This is the first time I have posted here, so I'm a bit nervous. This is Chapter 1 of a larger piece on Quinn/Sith Warrior told from Quinn's perspective. This chapter is a prequel, if you like, as it happens about a year before he meets the warrior. I wished not to ... just use the warrior story, but establish him a character in his own right and explore his time on Balmorra. This chapter contains very few spoilers, but a few from Quinn's backstory.

 

PS: Please ignore the title saying Chapter 1, all chapters (up to 3 now) will be posted here.

 

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From: Quinn, Malavai

Subject: A New Assignment

Dear Kairoth,

I thought you would be interested to know I have been given a new assignment. I recently was seconded to part of a task force gathering information on recent resistance activity. It seems that, due to a shortage of manpower, I am to continue with this team in the final stage of the operation. This is a very exciting development and I am greatly looking forward to advancing the cause of the Empire in a way that involves more than reports, troop assignments and trawling through the holo net for scant bits of intelligence. My occasional assignment for Darth Baras notwithstanding, the work here is very dull, I'm afraid.

 

Perhaps this will be the beginning of a new chapter in my life, where once again my talents are valued, although I highly doubt it. Regardless, at least I will be able to make some contribution, however minute, to our cause.

How are things on Dromund Kaas? Are the students behaving or are they as unruly as we were at that age? I know you said your leg has been giving you trouble, have you seen anyone about it yet? I know you feel it's a minor inconvenience, but I do wish you would take your health a bit more seriously. How is Geneste?

I look forward, as always, to hearing from you,

Malavai

 

From: Agilo, Kairoth

Subject: Re: A New Assignment

Hey there! Been nearly two weeks, I was wondering what kept you so busy on a backwater planet like Balmorra! You've not just been sitting around playing chess have you? It's great to hear some enthusiasm from you about something and it sounds like your new assignment has given you a reason to be optimistic. I know I can't ask the details, but I do hope it goes well. Be careful! My life would be immeasurably duller without your letters to cheer me up.

 

Dromund Kaas is... the same. Rainy, beautiful and uncompromising. The damp does play havoc with the leg, but I'm weathering it well enough (geddit? I blame the student's bad influence on my use of the popular vernacular as I'm sure you'd put it....). No I have not seen anyone about it. Who are you, my mother? Emperor's sake Mal you need to stop worrying so much. It's been almost ten years, it's not going to drop off! I know I'm your only real friend, but I'm not about to keel over and die on you.

 

Stop feeling guilty! What happened wasn't your fault. I know I keep telling you, but I get the feeling I can say it as often as I like and you'll still blame yourself for Druckenwell, especially for what happened to me. You have enough to worry about. Anyway, my leg and I have a good thing going. Like an old, married couple we try never to speak. Plus the cane has its charms believe it or not. Gen thinks it makes me look distinguished, but I can't say I can see it myself. It's also great for disobedient students! I jest.

 

Gen's doing fine, she sends her love; wants to know when we might see you again so she can have the bed made to regulation for you. I'm still catching flack for you leaving the room in a better state than you found it! I honestly think she still believes you carry around a pair of white gloves to check for dust.

 

The academy seems to be turning out reprobates at a rate of knots!! No, I'm joking they're good kids for the most part and yeah, pretty unruly too. Seeing them running down the halls really takes me back to us at that age - the chess prodigy, precise and organised and the artist who was everything but. I admit, though, I do seem to remember even when you ran with me, you did so neatly. I swear you were born 40! Still, it makes me miss you more. Will you ever get leave again? Once every three years is too long for a best friend.

Good luck with your thing, let me know when you're back safe.

Kai

~

 

Quinn donned his flight suit, other than the few hours of flight time a month he needed to remain registered as an active combat pilot, he had spent virtually no time in space and he missed it. There was something immeasurably satisfying about the hum of the engines and the sight of blackness out of the window.

 

Once he was fully dressed and had thoroughly checked the integrity of each element of the suit and the helmet, he headed to the spaceport, only a few minute's walk from his barracks in Sobrik. He walked past various troops, guards and civilians heading for the more heavily guarded military hangars that were off to one side of the bustle of the main port. Two guards stood by the entrance, coming to attention as Quinn approached.

 

'Sir, we will need to verify your identity.'

 

He stood there while the guard scanned him. There was a pause and the guard nodded, 'Thank you, sir. Good luck.'

 

Quinn continued into the hangar itself, it was a massive space containing three F-T6 Rycers, two FT-2 Quells and a few TZ-24 Gladiators as well as a number of other vessels. At the far end stood Captain Massarano, who was in charge of the operation. The captain was human and younger than him by some years with dark curly hair, very dark eyes and a round face. While Quinn liked and respected Massarano there was a minute part of him that was envious. After Druckenwell and his court martial, his career was in tatters. Looking at the captain reminded him of what might have been. He pushed the thought away, he needed to focus; the Empire needed him and he would not be found wanting.

 

The captain looked up as Quinn stopped in front of him, coming to attention and saluting. The other man returned the gesture, 'At ease lieutenant. Right on time, I see.'

 

'Thank you, sir,' Quinn replied and relaxed, standing at parade rest, his helmet held in both hands behind his back.

'It's good to have you here,' Massarano said, smiling and extending his hand, 'I appreciate your help. I've heard you're quite the pilot, I'm looking forward to seeing you in action!'

 

He took the proffered hand and inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment, 'I am grateful for the opportunity to serve, Captain.'

 

'Follow me and we'll start the briefing.'

 

The two men headed to the nearest door which contained a set of stairs that lead to a briefing room. There were already four others waiting for them, three women and a man all human unsurprisingly and of varying ages. They stood to attention as Massarano and Quinn entered, 'At ease,' the captain said, gesturing for Quinn to take his seat, 'For those of you who don't know, due to a shortage of manpower Lieutenant Quinn will be joining us for this mission. I know this is atypical, having the briefing so close to hitting space, but we have reason to believe there is a spy in Sobrik and we can't take any chances.'

 

The captain stood at the front of the room and the lights dimmed. He activated a holo projector showing the near orbit area of Balmorra, 'Okay this is what we're dealing with. Thanks to Quinn's quick work on the intelligence, we have intercepted a number of transmissions between the resistance on planet and a wanted freelance smuggler name of Marrodyn Tyrresta,' as he said the name a picture from a personnel file was displayed, with some basic details and the smuggler's wanted status.

 

'His ship is this one - The Harlequin,' the picture transferred to an older style freighter, 'Don't let its battered appearance fool you, it's fast and has a lot of special modifications on it. We've never been able to get close enough to account for all of them. It's evaded us for the last four years and should *not* be taken lightly. Anyway, it looks like Tyrresta is being paid to bring in a load of heavy ordinance from off world, probably specialist stuff they can't steal from us here. We're not sure why the resistance wants this stuff, but it's for something big, really big. The transfer is going to take place in orbit here,' once again the projector changed, showing the far side of Balmorra, away from most of the Imperial forces, 'Using the second moon as cover when it's at apogee. Now we are going to be split into two teams,' there was a groan.

 

One of the pilots spoke up, she was wiry with her blond hair tied back in a severe bun, 'This is bantha ****, sir! We barely have enough to make one full team.'

 

Massarano raised his hands to the mumbles of agreement from the rest of the group. Quinn scowled, it was inappropriate for a pilot, even a senior one to question her orders in front of the others. It lead to discontent. Yes, Balmorra was a backwater, yes, no one in High Command seemed to care about it with so many other conflicts raging. Yes all departments were severely understaffed, but to make such a claim during a briefing; it was against all protocol.

She should keep quiet and make do, like the rest of us, he thought.

 

'That's enough Lieutenant Dillayan! No one is happy about this situation and we would be even less of a team if Lieutenant Quinn had not volunteered his services. We're doing this people, so better get your game face on!' He scowled at the lieutenant, who shook her head, but said nothing more.

 

'Team Besh will be in the Rycers, and will consist of Scadi as leader, Jolchri and Quinn. Your objective will be to destroy the resistance transport and any escort it has; take those weapons out of circulation. If you can capture the shuttle, fine, but don't take any risks, the order is kill on sight. We cannot allow those terrorists to get their hands on that type of heavy ordinance. Team Dorn consists of myself as leader and Dillayan in the Quell with Rivest in the Gladiator. Our objective is to capture and detain Tyrresta and his crew for interrogation and impound his vessel'.

 

The holo changed again, 'Here are the rendezvous points, 1-6. All the coordinates are already programmed into your ships. Now, once we're off we'll rendezvous at point 4 and fly in together. If we time it right we should catch them mid-transfer, which is bound to cause panic. Besh, once you have destroyed the resistance transports, you will meet us here in at point 1,' the holo once again changed to show a point above the south pole of the planet, 'and we will escort the Harlequin to the secure hangar here. Should we end up in a fur ball, the fallback position is here, at point 3. Any questions?' Massarano looked around, when none was forthcoming, he continued, 'Good, then dismissed. We hit space in half an hour.'

 

Twenty minutes later, Quinn was sitting at the controls of his Rycer as a tech stood next to the canopy and attached the various hoses to his flight suit. Quinn pulled the helmet over his head and sealed it to the neckbrace, listening to the hiss of air and change in the sound of his breathing to his own ears. He adjusted the front slightly, this was the issue with spending so little time in the suit, the fit was tight and made him feel slightly claustrophobic for the first few minutes until his body adjusted to breathing in the recycled air it pumped. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep, slow breaths to help calm himself while the tech finished her work. Once she had stepped back and given him the thumbs up, he sealed the canopy and flipped the comms switch, 'Tower, this is Besh 3, call sign Ultraviolet, checking in.'

 

'We read you Besh 3, please standby,' the controller paused for a minute or so, 'Hangar is safe, you are cleared for engine start and immediate departure. Emperor's speed, Ultraviolet.'

 

'Copy, and I thank you,' he replied as he punched buttons bringing the main engines online and grabbing the throttle and controller. Carefully, he brought the Rycer up off the pad, disengaging the tethers and nudged it out of the hangar and into the blue sky. Freedom!

 

He rendezvoused with the rest of the group as planned, forming up neatly on Besh 1's port side. Once in formation each three person team accelerated to attack speed, hoping to surprise the terrorists and their supplier. Stars, he had missed this!

 

As they cleared the second moon, Quinn's sensors beeped and he heard Massarano in his ear, 'Confirmed, I read two ships, still attached. They must be making the transfer now. Once they've seen us, you all know what to do.'

Quinn was just considering running a scan of the immediate area when his systems beeped again and he heard Besh leader, Jolchri's voice over his comm, 'Confirmed, Dorn 1, the Harlequin is powering up its deflector screens. We've been detected.'

 

'No time like the present ladies and gents,' came Massarano's voice back, 'For the Empire!'

 

The two target ships separated suddenly and Quinn noticed that there was debris and gas evaporating from the devastation. Someone had panicked and pushed the emergency override, closing the airlocks and blowing the ships apart. To his horror he saw a figure floating in the vacuum, he turned his eyes back to his controls, he had enough to worry about without considering mercy for the guilty. Again, his controls signalled for his attention. The resistance shuttle was powering up its engines, getting ready to flee. He was just about to make this known when he was distracted with more signals. He checked, three more targets had appeared on his screen that had not been there a moment ago.

 

He flipped his comms, 'Looks like we have company, Besh 1,' he said.

 

'Copy that, Ultraviolet, I see them. Confirmed. Three additional units, hold on they're coming in hot!' Jolchri's voice buzzed in his ear.

 

Quinn immediately started his evasive manoeuvres, the Rycer was an extremely nimble craft, but with minimal defences. He checked his instruments, the new contacts were three old TZ-24 Enforcers, probably left over from the days when Balmorra had been under Republic control. His instinct had been correct, they were already firing, rather wildly. Quinn guessed that the pilots were probably inexperienced, relying more on their surprise tactics than sound ability. However, the scheme had worked, his other team member Besh 2 was now scattered into so many pieces of debris. He checked his own systems and swore. The Rycer's power couplings had been damaged meaning his usual six hour flight time was rapidly draining away and would soon affect his half hour reserves as well.

 

He brought the craft up sharply into a steep roll, and using his position, coming out of the sun directly at the pilot to his advantage. He activated his blasters, disabling and then destroying the enemy fighter before banking hard, bringing the Rycer around for another pass, firing from below the second ship and destroying it.

 

As he levelled out, scanning for the last fighter, he saw that Jolcri had beaten him to it. He quickly punched his scanner, moving to mid-range and swore; in the confusion the resistance shuttle was making a run for Balmorra itself, its trajectory indicating that the pilot was going to try for a fast atmosphere insertion, hoping to lose any pursuers in the violence of re-entry. He initiated his jammer, as the craft was rapidly retreating, it would soon be out of range of the rest of the team's devices. It was imperative he stopped the shuttle from talking to anyone else out there who might be willing to help. The terrorists always had some sob story about women, children or refugees, preferably all three, that they plied to any bleeding heart foolish enough to listen.

 

He pitched hard, coming about and activating his auxiliary thrusters to get to the shuttle as fast as possible. Once he was safely on course, he scanned for his team mates and discovered Massarano was the only one still in range. He punched his comms, 'Dorn 1 this is Besh 3, I've located the resistance shuttle but they're going for a drunken 'pub, I'm going after them.'

 

'Copy that, Besh 3,' responded Massarano, 'I'm going to steal back Besh 1, we're still trying to lock down the Harlequin.'

 

'Copy Dorn 1, she's too far out of reach to be any good to me. I'll catch up with you at point 1. Good luck. Ultraviolet out.'

 

Malavai glanced at the readout and saw he was in range. He also knew his target had to be destroyed.

He checked his systems again, the power drain had slowed to a crawl, but the previous damage had left him with virtually nothing for the task at hand. Performing some quick rerouting of the power for life support and taking the minimal shielding offline completely allowed him to pour all the remaining power to engines and weapons. Using the boost in power, he then switched from lasers to the Rycer's more powerful burst laser cannon, which had a better spread and a more powerful impact.

 

Finally, he adjusted his trajectory, so he would be coming straight at the shuttle, giving his weapons the best possible chance of success. As a pilot he knew that it was risky at this speed, there was every chance the gravitational pull of the planet itself coupled with the momentum of his vessel would cause him to lose control and crash into the atmosphere. However, if it stopped the rebel scum then he considered it worthwhile, even if it meant whatever was left of him would be stuck above Balmorra, quite literally, forever.

 

Quinn took a deep breath and brought up his targeting computer, taking careful aim as the alarms started to scream at him, indicating he was reaching a speed at which he would no longer be able to evade the planet below. He slowly exhaled and pulled the trigger, sending a barrage of heavy fire towards the shuttle. The first hit the deflector, as did the second, but the screen visibly fizzled, knocking it out. The final salvo impacted the rear quarter of the shuttle, disabling its engines.

 

Ignoring the continued wailing, Malavai sent another three rounds at the shuttle, the first was slightly wide but the second and third found their mark, blowing the shuttle into tiny pieces. Quickly, he punched buttons on his console, activating the forward keel thrusters as he banked and pitched in a desperate attempt to avoid Balmorra's atmosphere.

There was a miniature explosion behind him as the auxiliary blew under the stress. He held the Rycer steady, as around him the canopy glowed with friction. Checking his instruments he realised it was no good, without more power he did not have the ability to escape.

 

Without really thinking Quinn played his final card and deactivated his life support, pouring all the remaining energy to the engines. He knew that the emergency backup would activate, giving him exactly 10 additional minutes of oxygen before that too ran out. It seemed a fair trade, considering that if he couldn't pull out of the atmosphere he would not last another 10 seconds.

 

He fought with the controls, trying to gain the right trajectory to escape Balmorra, but it seemed to be a losing battle. He wondered briefly if it would be painful.

 

Suddenly, he felt the craft pull slightly and start to lift, he gave the Rycer one, final nudge and it pitched upwards coming out of the atmosphere; the view outside the canopy changing from red and orange back to black. He wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but realised that it would use up valuable oxygen he could no longer spare.

 

Checking the readout Quinn saw that his ship was nearly out of power. There was no way he would be able to get back to the rendezvous. He activated the emergency beacon, with any luck someone would pick up his distress call and he would not have to die alone in space.

 

Nearly ten minutes later, Quinn sat completely still his breathing shallow and infrequent in an attempt to conserve what little oxygen remained. He found his thoughts turned to Kai, he missed his friend and he imagined that Kai would be devastated to find out Quinn had died. At least it was in a good cause, he smiled to himself. Mission accomplished!

He briefly thought of Jesvia, he knew that it was long ago, nearly 10 years, but at times like this, when he was left with nothing but his own thoughts, they kept returning to her. It was as if his broken heart would not be quietened. There had really been no one important in his life since.

 

The closest he had come was Pendeni, nearly three years prior on Dromund Kaas. At first it felt like she had been doing him a favour - not many women would touch an anti-social and disgraced officer sent to the back end of nowhere. However, she was in no way his intellectual equal and he found himself increasingly bored talking to her. After four months, two days he could stand it no longer and he ended it as gently as he could.

 

After that he had given up. As a young man he had hoped one day to marry and have children, to be normal in that way if no other, but his intelligence and awkwardness had always held him back. He was not husband material, apparently, and since the last disaster he had considered himself above such feelings for the most part.

Besides, he didn't need romantic love, he served the Empire and was content. Being part of something greater, something that mattered and would survive long after his passing. That was more than enough. Yet at that moment, he wished for...

 

Before he could complete the thought he felt a change in the craft, it was under someone's control, no longer drifting. He opened his eyes to see he was being towed and a voice came over his comms, it was Massarano.

 

'There you are, Ultraviolet. We were scared we'd lost you. Just sit tight, I have a priority clearance, we'll have you on the ground in no time.'

 

Quinn was vaguely aware of the sky outside the canopy turning from deep black, to purple and then blue before he passed out.

 

He came to slowly. When his eyes finally focussed, he found himself looking at a white ceiling. Quinn took a deep, luxurious breath. There was nothing like nearly dying from hypoxia to make one appreciate the little things, like free-flowing oxygen.

 

'Look who's back with us,' said a voice.

 

Turning his head, he managed to focus, rather hazily, on Massarano. The younger man was sitting in a chair next to his bed, smiling broadly. Quinn tried to move, but the other man put a hand on him.

 

'Easy there lieutenant, you're not going anywhere for a few hours,' Massarano told him, 'Don't worry, all is well. We got our guy, impounded the ship and you destroyed the shuttle, oh and two bogies as well. Couldn't have done it without you, so it seemed only right I should be here when you woke. By the Emperor, that was some flying you did there, Quinn. I can see your reputation is well deserved!'

 

'Th...thank....' he tried, but his throat felt like it had razor blades in it.

 

'No no, don't try and speak. The nurse will have forty fits and I'll be kicked out of here like a naughty child,' Quinn smiled wryly, as the other man continued, 'They're keeping you in overnight. I just wanted to say thank you. You're an amazing pilot and I will be putting you up for a commendation for this day's work. Now rest.'

 

Quinn closed his eyes and allowed himself to sleep. The job was done and now all he needed to do was recover.

~

 

From: Quinn, Malavai

Subject: Back Safe

Dear Kairoth,

I'm now back from my "thing" as you put it and all is well. Mission accomplished. I will say no more. Of course I worry about your leg, you say it hurts, what else would you have me do? Go and see someone! Maybe they can help. Don't be such a baby about it!

 

I'm glad Dromund Kaas is the same as ever, it makes my life here immeasurably better knowing that someone, somewhere is enjoying the weather there. I'm sorry for the delay in responding, but I was injured during my mission and needed a day to recuperate. Yes I'm fine before you start. Who are you, my mother?

 

I'm afraid tomorrow I'm back on full duty, so it will be the same old slog as it has been every other day. I can't say I'm looking forward to it, but the assignment was worth it and I will remember it fondly. Even if I was injured.

I'm not sure when I will be given leave again, but if I am I will let you know. Obviously I miss you and would want to come and see you. Would you allow me to sleep in your guest room again? Are you sure Geneste wouldn't mind, her joke about my fondness for hospital corners aside? I still feel like I'm intruding on you both, despite it being nearly seven years. Problem is I do prefer staying with you. I know I could stay with my parents, but there is something hugely depressing about sleeping in the room you grew up in with your mother fussing and your step father rolling his eyes at you in sympathy.

 

How are your new pieces coming? Are you just doing more line drawings? I would love to have another to put in my barracks, they do cheer the place up.

Best,

Malavai

 

 

From: Agilo, Kairoth

Subject: Re: Back Safe

Dear Mal,

I am NOT being a baby, I don't like doctors that's all. They seem to poke and prod you and none of it seems to do any good. I don't even think they know why my leg hurts, so half the time it feels like they don't believe me. The other half they're just patronising about 1. drinking less, 2. eating more vegetables (that magical cure for crush injuries) and 3. doing more exercise. It's annoying and unhelpful. I nearly hit the last one with my cane.

 

Glad to know you're back safe. As you've been snippy about it I won't ask about your injury, but I am glad you're all right. However, let me reiterate that your tendency not to tell me about your injuries is irritating. You're my friend and I see you rarely, so knowing everything makes me feel better. I always look out for you, you know that, have been since we were 8.

 

If you do get leave of course you can stay in the spare room, Gen loves having you over, but you make her a bit nervous. She is used to people who are more laid back and less authoritarian. I think your stiff demeanour make her feel like she's back at school. She knows you're my best friend and you're important, so she just wants you to be happy and comfortable in our home, Mal.

 

Anyway, you know Odile and Paria love seeing their Imperial Guardian! They're always asking about uncle Mal and his wild adventures on Balmorra. It's become the bedtime story of choice, yeah okay I exaggerate the adventures a bit, but it's in a good cause. Odile is very precocious for a six year old and says he wants to grow up to be just like you, and I think he's well on his way. He recently won a game tactics proficiency award at the pre-Academy prep. I'm sure you did just as well at his age, I seem to remember seeing a similar award in your room. Maybe you could introduce him to chess next time you visit?

 

I know your mother irritates you, I can't believe she burst into tears the last time she saw you! That must have made for an awkward half an hour for you, knowing you as I do and your feelings on public displays of emotion of any type. I feel for you, Mal, I really do. You're always welcome with Gen and I. Anytime. Day or night.

 

The drawings are mainly line. I'm experimenting with charcoal, it's tactile and I like the subtle additions you can make with it, especially to surfaces and clothing. I might go back to colours, I do feel line and colour is my strong suit really. Of course I'll do you another, I'll see if I can get it on the courier in the next couple of months, so you should have it by the time you're 60!

 

Send me more tales of your dashing exploits, I'm running out of bedtime stories!

Kai

Edited April 22, 2017 by Denshah
Changing the Title (as it's misleading) to remove Chapter 1 as I intend to post the whole thing here.

I'm so happy to see you posting here. It'll be easier for me to keep up with it here than in DA. As I said in DA I really enjoyed it and look forward to reading more.

Hi. Happy to see you posting here as well although I believe I already wrote something up in your DA post, the same still applies. I love the whole letter writing aspect and the way it develops Quinn as an individual, he did have a life before the warrior showed up.

Welcome! It's always nice to see more people share their stories here.

 

The letters work well to give Quinn a more personal background. I can see Quinn losing all false friends after his demotion, leaving him with this one true friend.

I also liked the fight in space. Quinn would certainly put the success of the mission above his personal wellbeing.

Looking forward to the next part.

I'm very glad you finally took the step of posting your work here.

 

I really enjoy the feel of Kai and Quinn's friendship, their letter exchanges and the way they offer us a glimpse into his life. Into some of the things he'd been up to thus far.

 

The detail you've put into the space battle and Quinn's mastery as a pilot is stunning to be honest and extremely well done. It all felt and looked so real.

 

I will second Kai and say I look forward to reading more about Quinn's 'dashing exploits'.

Welcome! It's always nice to see more people share their stories here.

 

The letters work well to give Quinn a more personal background. I can see Quinn losing all false friends after his demotion, leaving him with this one true friend.

I also liked the fight in space. Quinn would certainly put the success of the mission above his personal wellbeing.

Looking forward to the next part.

 

I hadn't actually thought about it like that but I think you're right. I think I just assumed he isn't particularly good at holding onto people, as he's not really warmed to them. But any "hangers on" and acquaintances are bound to fall away in the face of his banishment, totally agree. Thank you for the fresh perspective!

 

But it was early on in the development of this particular fiction I thought "Quinn needs a Bucky" and so Kai was born! He looks like my tattoo artist as he was listening to me waffle on while I got my leg permanently marked by SWTOR

I want to thank you all for the lovely comments and support. I really appreciate it. Sorry I've been so bad at posting replies, but I've been laid up with a jaw infection

 

Anyway, I plan on posting 2 now and then 3-5 over the next few days as they're ready to go now. Special thanks to MishaCantu for their edits on 4 and 5 and everyone else for being so welcoming and positive!

 

Quinn activated his secure line to Lord Baras on the console and then turned to face the holoprojector. 'Lord Baras,' he bowed his head respectfully as the Darth's image appeared before him, 'How may I be of service?'

 

'Ahh Quinn, I have a little task for you,' as always the Sith's voice was dry, and matter of fact but with that hint of amusement that grated against Quinn's sense of propriety in professional matters.

 

'Of course, I am, as always, ready to serve, my Lord.'

 

'Good! I have read the reports of one Captain Massarano. Your piloting skills are quite exceptional, apparently and I have need of an outstanding pilot.' Quinn inclined his head at the compliment as Lord Baras continued, 'I require some cargo transferred very discreetly. It will be ship to ship with no stationary transfer point. You will then need to drop it from low orbit onto Balmorra. Think you can handle that, lieutenant?'

 

'Yes, my Lord.'

 

'Excellent, I will ensure all the details are forwarded to you as soon as possible and a ship is made available for you. Your assignment, codename Achilles, will start the day after tomorrow. We shall speak again when you have returned,' and with that the holo disconnected.

 

Quinn went to his desk and continued to work on his report for Imperial Intelligence on the use of Imperial agent assets in the Balmorran resistance. It was a few hours later when his console beeped. He carefully read the attached document, entitled "Operation Achilles" which stated, rather bluntly, that he should report to a special Sith hangar in Sobrik, which would be made available to him for his mission.

 

He was to join a routine patrol of the first moon of Balmorra and on the way back rendezvous with a shuttle designated Chronicle from the Harrower class dreadnought Oppressor that would have his cargo. The whole thing had to look as natural and part of the customary activities of Imperial forces, to help avoid raising suspicion. Once the cargo was transferred, he was to do a low altitude drop to a designated location and return to Sobrik.

 

Checking through the orders, he noted that nowhere was it specified what the cargo was. It seemed likely it was "need to know" and he didn't, which was standard operating procedure for one of Lord Baras's missions. The Darth compartmentalised everything with ruthless efficiency.

 

The description of the cargo was a single, sealed crate 2m by 1m by 1m which was miniscule. No wonder Baras needed a first rate pilot, transferring something that small between ships that were both in motion was not going to be easy. The whole thing was fraught with risk, both for him and the other pilot. Briefly, he wondered what was so important to make it worthwhile, but quickly pushed the thought to the side. It was not for him to question orders and at least he would be back in space!

 

He closed the file and went back to the letter currently open.

 

From: Quinn, Malavai

Subject: More Tales from Balmorra

Dear Kairoth,

 

I hope Odile and Paria enjoyed the space adventures of uncle Malavai as I recounted in my last letter and that you have actually now finally, after much gnashing of teeth, gone to see someone about the damned leg!

 

It is not often I pester, but I am now. I know you, Kairoth, you say "Oh it hurts a bit" what you actually mean is you're not sleeping properly because you're in agony. Emperor's sake! No I am not your mother, but I am your best friend and I will write to her AND Gen if you don't start taking better care of yourself.

 

It's been nearly three months since my last assignment in space, and the interim has been awfully dull. I am glad I did my duty, don't get me wrong, but I miss space. There is something inexplicably wonderful about the hum of the engines and a ship that is running well. I like the clean, crisp order of it as opposed to the bug infested organic mess of being stuck on-planet. Still, I wouldn't trade a single second of it, however much I miss it when I'm trapped on the ground once more.

 

The closest thing I currently have to excitement is some part-time secondment work with the idiots, which I cannot talk about, but even if I could would put you to sleep. Still, it's important work and I am glad that someone is utilising my brain for something more important than troop deployments.

Your last letter sounded a bit... down, hence my nagging about the leg, as I assumed that was the issue. Let me know how you are, Kairoth. I worry about you.

 

Write soon,

Malavai

 

From: Agilo, Kairoth

Subject: Re: More Tales from Balmorra

Dear Mal,

 

You're invoking the "women in my life" clause? Wow, pretty drastic, Mal. I'll think about it, okay? I'm not sure I would consider myself to be in agony no, but it has been getting worse and ... yeah... maybe I need to think about doing something about it.

 

Pari and Odile were thrilled with the latest tales of pilot Malavai Quinn, saviour of the Sith Empire, confidante of Darth Baras and all around wonderful guy! Don't worry, you're always the dashing hero who gets out in the nick of time and sometimes gets the girl.

 

Odile wants me to do a picture of you for his birthday, but I know it would mean so much more to him if you sent him one? I know you always remember and send a holocard and present, but he would really, really like to put you on his wall with the rest of his heroes.

 

The stories really make them both smile and I think right now they could use it. Gen's currently having another bad turn. I'm not sure what's wrong, but she's been quite distant with me over the last couple of weeks. I've suggested the doctors as well, but she says she's "fine" (which, by the way Mal, is wife code for "not at all fine in any way and screw you for not knowing why"). The kids are starting to notice and I'm running out of excuses.

 

Sorry not to have more fun news for you, but ... yeah I could really use some advice. Weirdly, you seem much better at giving it to me than you do actually following through on it yourself.

 

Miss you!

Kai.

 

From: Quinn, Malavai

Subject: More Tales from Balmorra

Dear Kairoth,

 

I am so sorry. Is it the same issue she had after Paria was born? I know that was very rough on her and you. My first instinct is to say be supportive of her. Upon receipt of your letter I went and did some research and my general understanding is women don't want space and when they say they do, they want to see if you will chase after them to prove you care enough to see what's wrong.

 

It seems very counter-intuitive to me, but then I find most things about people difficult, regardless of their gender. I'm guessing you already knew this. Sometimes I envy you and your innate ability to understand these things. The research is such a hassle.

 

Drawing on my own experiences, I was thinking perhaps don't make excuses for her but spend more time with the children while she is ... unwell? Be honest and say you don't know what the matter is but that you all need to try and support her. At least then, if something more serious is wrong, they do not feel like you have lied to them about it. I wish my own mother had done that when my father died. Children are tougher then we often realise and they will want to help too - maybe they can help you?

 

I will forward a selection of holoimages of myself, including one with my ship and in my pilot's gear for him. I cannot guarantee they will arrive in time, but I will do my best. I know a transpo officer who owes me a favour and might be able to fast-route it to Dromund Kaas. I will also write Odile a letter and tell him it's on the way. Would that help? Anything to help cheer them up, and you as well!

 

I'm glad you're thinking of seeing someone. I would suggest if Gen is not herself that this is even more imperative as someone has to be able to tend your lovely children. I really wish I could get some leave, but I don't see it happening. Damnit, I want to be there for you!

 

Also, I might be gone for a few days, I can't say more, but don't worry if there is some delay in my replying.

 

Take care,

Malavai

~

 

Quinn entered the hangar and gasped in surprise, then smiled thinly and exhaled. In front of him was one of the Mark VI Supremacy-class starfighters, also known as an ISF interceptor. Beautiful. Deadly. A joy to fly, or so he had been told. He found his fingers flexing of their own free will, itching to get their hands on the controls, feel the sheer serenity of becoming one with such a machine.

 

Before proceeding further, he managed to talk the tech, an alien, into taking a dozen holoimages for him, and then walked back to the hangar entrance and instructed one of the guards to return his holocamera to his office. It was incredibly awkward for him; he didn't enjoy having his image taken at the best of times, because he tended to fidget and look far too serious. Still this was important so he pushed the feelings to one side and did his best.

 

He had promised Kai and it was important to Odile, who was not just his best friend's son, but also his Imperial ward. Both Kai's children were. Part of Quinn's duty, as their Imperial Guardian, was to ensure the continuation of the Agilo legacy, the proper instruction in the ways of the Sith Empire and Odile and Paria's transition into adulthood. It was a duty he took extremely seriously, even from Balmorra.

 

When he returned to the hangar, he took a closer look at his interceptor. It became immediately obvious that most of the weapons had been stripped from the craft and replaced with a military grade tractor beam. At least it was now clear how he was supposed to ferry cargo in a fighter. The Mark VI had minimal shielding, a sacrifice the pilots he had spoken to believed was worth the superior manoeuvrability it afforded them.

 

The combination of the lack of shields and now the lack of weapons would leave Quinn in a very precarious position should things go wrong. Nevertheless it was a risk he was willing to take. He had faith that Darth Baras would not be asking him to risk his life if it was not important. Anyway, he owed Baras his career, and he was more than willing to die to repay his debt.

 

Quinn walked over and took his gloves off, tucking them in his belt. He allowed his hand to run along the edge of the wing, still smiling, feeling the smooth, cold metal under his fingers. Everything about the fighter was beautiful - the clean lines, the tilt of the wings, it just looked as though it was designed for speed. It one of the gratifying aspects to working for Lord Baras; he always had the best equipment and was willing to assign it to the agents he had on various planets.

 

The tech walked over and nodded, bringing Quinn back to his assignment. He nodded at the Chiss then climbed the ladder into the cockpit. While the tech attached the various hoses to his suit, he put on his helmet and gloves, listening to the hiss of the air and the strange otherworldly sound of his own breath. Eventually the ladder was withdrawn and the tech gave him the thumbs up. He leaned forward and sealed himself into the cockpit, then activated the comms, 'Tower, this is call sign Ultraviolet on special assignment unlisted 5 checking in.'

 

There was a pause, presumably while the tower checked his unlisted status, 'We read you Ultraviolet, please standby for final clearance,' the controller paused for a minute or so, 'Hangar is safe, you are cleared for engine start.'

'Copy,' Quinn brought the engines up, feeling how quickly they activated, 'Engines online, awaiting final confirmation.'

'Copy Ultraviolet, standby,' there was another pause, 'Ultraviolet, you are cleared for launch.'

 

'Thank you tower, Ultraviolet out.'

 

Quinn grabbed the single controller and placed his feet on the pedals. It was a very different cockpit from the Rycer, and it had taken him a minute or so to adjust. Slowly, he brought the interceptor about and nudged the controls. The interceptor shot out of the hangar, making him hum contentedly at its responsiveness. It really was a beautifully designed piece of engineering. Whatever else this mission might be, it was going to be a wrench to return this piece of cutting edge tech!

 

Once in space, he set a course for the Oppressor. He then spent some time testing the controls, adjusting his movements to get the exact response he wanted from the Interceptor. He had never flown anything with controls so sensitive, so it took him a few minutes to adjust completely to its precision.

 

After ten minutes, he began his approach to the Oppressor itself and his comms activated, 'Unregged interceptor 5, this is Oppressor control, please activate IFF and transmit your authorisation code.'

 

'Copy, Oppressor,' he replied, flipping the identify friend or foe switch used in combat and then transmitted the codes Lord Baras had provided for him. There was a pregnant pause.

 

'Copy Ultraviolet, you are cleared for approach. Board is green. Forward upper bay. Speed 125. Call the ball.'

'I read you Oppressor. Forward upper landing bay, I make my speed 1-2-5. I have the ball,' he replied as he piloted the interceptor between the two massive forward sections of the destroyer and manoeuvred into the upper landing bay.

Once he felt metal hit metal, he activated his comms again, 'Oppressor control, Ultraviolet. Interceptor unlisted 5 is secured.'

 

'Copy Ultraviolet, welcome on board the Oppressor. I've been informed you're to stay with your ship, we'll refuel you and your squad will be ready to go in 10 minutes. Control out.'

 

Once the ship was fully secured and swarmed by techs, he opened the canopy and a ladder was shifted so he could disembark. He removed his helmet and descended, then sat on the bottom rung of the ladder and just waited letting himself enjoy the feeling of being back on a bustling Imperial ship; the sound of the people, the engines, the smells he associated with serving in space. Even the recycled air had its charms.

 

Some minutes later a woman approached, she was young, perhaps 20, and red haired. Quinn stood as she stopped in front of him.

 

She saluted, 'Sir, Ensign Halkina Shelay. I understand you will be completing patrol Peth with us today?'

 

He returned the salute, 'That is correct, Ensign. Lieutenant Malavai Quinn.'

 

'Nice to meet you, lieutenant,' she replied, 'I'm afraid the Captain has been told to have no direct contact, but he wanted someone to welcome you. I'm the rook, I got the job. He says you don't need to be briefed, is that correct, sir?'

'That is correct Ensign, but please inform your Captain I appreciate his or her courtesy.'

 

She nodded and smiled at him again, touching her hair, 'Th...thank you sir, you may as well get ready, we'll be hitting space in five,' she saluted again and walked away.

 

Quinn furrowed his brow, the number of women who seemed to feel the need to touch their hair in his presence had always baffled him. He had never quite been able to work out why, but he was not good at body language. He turned and headed back up the ladder and into the cockpit, re-donning his helmet while the flight crews and the techs fussed around him and the interceptor.

 

Finally, he was back in space, enjoying the feel of the interceptor's sensitive controls and seeing the cool, crisp black out of the cockpit window. He completed the patrol, as expected it was virtually eventless and then peeled off for his rendezvous as the rest of the squad headed back for the Oppressor. They had barely said a word, but that was to be expected.

 

There were a great many crafts around at that moment, as shuttles and patrols arrived and departed the Oppressor, so his small diversion would hopefully go undetected. He saw a shuttle appear from his starboard side and he cut his engines and used the inertia to form up on its six. After a moment, he saw the bay door open and a small pod float out.

 

Quinn knew the timing had to be precise, he used his targeting computer to help him line up, understanding this had to be as fast and natural as possible. Several seconds passed and he activated his tractor beam, and used the controls to bring the pod closer. After a moment, he heard the clang of metal on metal and realised that the cargo must have a magnetic lock on it. Captured. He'd got it. Throttling up, he came about and headed back towards the blue green of Balmorra.

 

He used the onboard computer to calculate the best re-entry point for the drop and then adjusted his trajectory and speed for optimal cover. The interceptor was just starting to skim into the top of the atmosphere, the bottom of the wings starting to glow with the friction of the atmosphere, when his proximity sensors sounded. Quickly, Quinn checked the readings and swore, another TZ-24 Enforcer was coming at him, firing. He theorised it had waited until the last possible second to minimise the superiority of the interceptor's speed and manoeuvrability.

 

Damnit, I'm stuck. Nothing I can do. Just hope I can weather it, he thought.

 

He was nearly through the atmosphere when suddenly there were a number of explosions to his port, mainly aft side. He heard the wail of the sirens as the airtight seal of the craft was breached and felt the pain in his shoulder and torso as shrapnel tore through both his cockpit and body. The pain was white hot and dull at the same time and he cried out, trying to fight the surge in adrenaline that was making his arms shake and mouth dry. Checking his damage report, he discovered his port propulsion was badly damaged and his already minimal shields were completely knocked out.

Quinn throttled back, wincing in pain as his shoulder protested, in the hopes of preventing the craft yawing and ending up in a flat spin by matching the two engines speeds. Suddenly there was another violent explosion, probably from a ground to air missile.

 

He fought with the interceptor's controls, trying to keep his ailing craft level and the pain in check. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was less than a kilometre to the drop point so he activated the tractor beam and saw the pod disengage from his hull.

 

Once it was a safe distance from the Interceptor's hull he released it and, his duty done, checked the damage report. It was hopeless, this lovely craft was going down and there was nothing now that would prevent it, but he needed to hold it in one piece a little longer to get himself away from the pod's landing zone. Allowing the craft a bit more leeway now the drop had been completed, he turned the Interceptor more north west then cut the engines to a minimum. Keeping his eyes on the readouts he more or less glided for another few kilometres, hoping to make it to a friendly outpost in the area.

 

He was cold and starting to shake, which he imagined was a combination of shock and blood loss. Checking the readout again, he was now at least 10 kilometres away and well to the west of the pod site. The craft was not going to stay airborne much longer, so he reached up above his head with both hands, crying out again as the pain nearly overwhelmed him, grabbed the emergency cockpit ejection handles and pulled hard.

 

The explosive bolts fired and the cockpit, as one piece, came away from the chassis. Quinn felt the secondary thrusters activate, driving the pod back into the air, then the jerk as the parachutes opened. There was nothing for him to do but sit there, slowly bleeding to death, hoping that he was found by friendlies. It seemed unlikely. He passed out.

Quinn came to sometime later, he was lying face up in a cot. His flight suit was gone and he was dressed in a tunic and pants made from rough, thin cloth. He tried to move his right hand and found it was handcuffed to the cot. Opening his eyes, he discovered a drip sticking out of his arm, it looked like they were giving him synthetic blood.

'I wouldn't move around too much, Imp. We've patched you up best we can, but those kolto patches are going to take a while to work and you lost a lot of blood,' said a gruff voice.

 

He looked over to see an older man, white haired and bespeckled, looking at him and leaning back in a chair.

'Quinn, Malavai. Lieutenant. INDKR-25365527.'

 

The other man kicked his chair back forward, 'Yeah they all start like that. We'll see, Imp. We'll see. I'll see you get some decent chow before we start. Least I can do. Tomorrow though, now you need to rest. That shrapnel tore your guts up pretty good.'

 

The man got up and walked to the door, before looking over his shoulder, 'Usually we wouldn't bother healing Imp scum like you, but pilots tend to be ultimately tradable. The Empire puts too much effort into an Interceptor pilot to let him rot in a cell for long and we have our own people to get back, so we're hoping you'll be valuable to us.'

 

Quinn lay there and tried to work out how long it had been. It was difficult to tell. It seemed likely he had been captured by the resistance. He imagined their interrogators to be a shade on the amateur side, but that in itself was dangerous. Pain could be a powerful motivator, but in the wrong hands it killed the detainee before it broke them. Judging by the primitive medical facilities, he did not hold out much hope if he were to be injured again.

 

While lying there, he mentally prepared his lines of defence. The various bits of intelligence that he could give up to the interrogator so it looked like he was breaking and then broken. The small lies he might get away with, some operations which were unimportant and some misinformation he might be able to use. He also considered the things he might need to bear in mind during the process that might save his life. The position of the room, the number of guards, any small details that might give him a way of escape or a clue to where he was.

 

He was awoken in the middle of the night, sat up roughly and hooded. Hands grabbed him and pulled him out of bed and dragged him down a number of corridors to a cold, dark room. Confused and shackled, Quinn could do little but be punched repeatedly, while a group of what sounded like mainly men cheered and whooped before being picked up from his knees. A man stood near him and whispered, 'That's for my family.'

 

Again, he was roughly marched down a corridor and handcuffed back to his bed. When the hood was removed, a woman spat at him, 'You baby killer!'

 

He offered no defiance or witty repartee, resistance fanatics all had some sob story about losing their families and children to justify the orphans and widows or widowers they, themselves created. As if somehow that evened the score or excused their atrocities. There was little point arguing. Best just to let them have their fun and get it out of their systems.

 

The only downside, besides the black eye he could feel swelling, was the unpleasantness of wiping saliva from his face. He wasn't a germophobe per se, but it was distasteful to his sense of decorum.

 

For approximately the first three days nothing happened, Quinn postulated that they were letting him heal up and regain some strength before starting his questioning in earnest, but he was disturbed and beaten most nights. He guessed it was against orders, but a nice morale boost for those involved.

 

The next five days, or so, he couldn't be entirely sure, were a blur. The sessions themselves were batteries of questions, followed by beatings, followed by more questions on and on and then a random period of rest, which could be minutes or hours. Once the beatings proved ineffective, they moved onto electricity. Quinn was moved several times a night and once was forced into a stress position for several hours. Always, he was kept in isolation.

By about day six he began, slowly, to give up some intelligence, small pieces of gossip and anything else he could think of to make the interrogators think he was starting to break. Despite the Republic's belief that there were men who were too tough to break, it was just nonsense. Everyone broke in the end. Everyone.

 

He had once read that surviving an interrogation was a race, if he could give them enough without breaking and they could hurt him enough without killing him. Either way, they seemed to feel they were making progress and that meant less muscle and more food, which was good for him as his wounds were still painful and felt hot sometimes. He suspected their medics had not done their job properly and his wounds might well be infected.

 

There was also some hope, he had heard the guard talking when they thought he was asleep, the area he was being held in was not secure. It did occur to him that this was some form of psychological technique to encourage him to talk, but none of the people he encountered on the base seemed to be professionals. Unfortunately, his interrogator was a talented amateur.

 

Quinn estimated it had been about two weeks and he was starting to develop a rapport with Isin, his interrogator. He was bright enough to know Quinn was holding back, but stupid enough to believe he was making real progress. The muscle continued, though at less of a pace with the question sessions and breaks being longer and more relaxed. He got the feeling Isin was in a rush, but was pleased enough with the progress not to push him too much harder. It also seemed he had yet to divulge the exact nature of the real question he wanted to ask. It was nothing but a hunch, and, for the time being, was completely un-testable.

 

Quinn had studied the room they used and knew it well enough that if the opportunity arose, he might be able to escape. He was sure it would be at least another week before they realised he was not as forthcoming as they would have liked, as by then the pieces of operations he had been able to give away would be proven to be fake or misinformation. The other bad news was he had a fever and chills, which meant that it was very likely his abdominal wound was infected. Trust the resistance to mess up a simple patch job.

 

The days became a blur and truthfully Quinn had lost count. He felt it had been about twenty days, but it was a wild stab in the dark to keep his mind tied to some sense of order. He was sitting in the room, tied to a chair, shivering in the thin trousers and tunic they had given him. He dragged himself back to listen, but was finding it increasingly difficult, '... so we wanted to ask about the Oppressor.'

 

Quinn focussed, 'Oh? Ask me what?'

 

'We would like some more information about getting aboard.'

 

'Aboard the Oppressor?'

 

'Yeah, the standard codes the Imps use. Anything that might help us.'

 

'I don't know all the procedures of the big destroyers. They... they... have changed...'

 

'Don't make me punish you Quinn. You know I can tell when you're lying,' Isin replied quietly.

 

No, but you can tell when I want you to know I'm lying, he thought.

 

'I'm... I'm sorry, I'm not well Isin. There's something wrong with my wound.'

 

'I know, we're trying to get in some better equipment and a doc. Maybe we can fix you up, huh? You tell me this and I promise I will ensure you live.'

 

Quinn looked up at him, bleary eyed, 'You... you can't promise me that. I doubt you have the facilities...' he realised that, in his weakened state, his mouth had engaged before his brain and that answer earned him a punch from one of the men who always stood by his chair.

 

He leaned forward and spat out a mouthful of blood, then caught his breath and sat back up, feeling his lip swelling.

Isin shook his head, 'I thought we were starting to trust each other, Quinn. Now I've given you as much leeway as I can and now I need to know,' he indicated a large basin of water off to his left. 'I don't want to have to do this, Malavai, but I will. I need to know how to get aboard the Oppressor.'

 

'I...I ... I don't know. The codes, they change and....' another punch followed by Isin nodding at his guards.

'Sorry Quinn, no choice. I need that information and I'm going to get it, one way or the other.'

 

With that he was roughly unchained and stood up, his hands rebound behind his back. He tried to get his feet under him but couldn't, his legs were too weak, his guts on fire. The two guards grabbed him under the arms and dragged him over to the basin, letting him drop to his knees. He looked at his own reflection in the water - there were dark circles under his eyes and a fair growth on his beard, plus the various bruises from the repeated beatings. His skin was so pale and he realised, in some ways, he barely recognised himself.

 

As Quinn braced himself for the inevitable, there was a sudden explosion and all the alarms in the room went off at once. It was chaos, the lights dimmed and the whole place was filled with smoke and noise. The guard just dropped him and he managed to fall sideways, avoiding the basin altogether and landing roughly on his right side.

 

Even in his diminished state, he struggled weakly against his bindings hoping to free himself and escape in the confusion, but to no avail. They were biting into his skin and he thought he could feel blood in his hands. After a few minutes there was a blur in front of him, an Imperial soldier bent over, 'Sir? All you all right sir?'

 

'Lieutenant Malavai Quinn.'

 

'Yes sir, Corporal Glasca. Can you walk?' he asked, cutting off the hand ties.

 

Quinn tried to sit up, but immediately fell, and only avoided hitting his head through Glasca's quick thinking.

 

'Don't worry Lieutenant, we'll have you out of here in no time,' he turned and spoke into his comms unit, 'Glasca here, we need a stretcher and medic in sector A, room 4 north side.'

 

The solider broke off the comm and turned back to Quinn, 'We didn't know there were Imperial prisoners here, we were looking for some 'Pub scientists, we had intel they had been shipped from off world for a special job, something really big. You're lucky, usually we would have just bombed this place. You seen anyone like that, sir? Any labs?'

'I'm...no.. only guards... Isin my int..interrogator... that... that's it.'

 

'I'm going to leave you and continue my sweep. The medics will have you out in no time,' replied Glasca and turned, running out of view. He lay back and stared at the ceiling, his body still tense, wondering if he might die before he reached safety, or worse if his captors would return.

 

Sometime later Quinn was aware of a number of medics kneeling beside him, assessing his condition. His body relaxed as he was loaded on a stretcher and removed from the building. He floated in and out of consciousness, remembering the sight of the black sky above him and the smell of the plants and flowers mixed with fuel and explosive residue.

 

Then there was the feel of the lift of the medical craft, the Imperial comms chatter and the sounds of the medics talking as they examined him. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the zip, zip, zip of the lights going past above him, the sound of many voices shouting and concerned looks from a nurse holding something over his nose and mouth. Glancing around he saw the clean whiteness he recognised as the hospital in Sobrik. He vaguely remembered being shifted onto an examination table and swarmed by a trauma team before the blackness overcame him and he sunk into its welcoming arms.

 

From: Agilo, Kairoth

Subject: Re: More Tales from Balmorra

Dear Mal,

 

It's been a while since I heard from you, nearly five weeks. Is everything all right?? I am growing quite concerned. I checked the KIA for Balmorra and you're not listed.

 

Write to me, Mal. Please, I need to know you're okay!

 

Kai

 

From: Quinn, Malavai

Subject: Re: More Tales from Balmorra

Dear Kairoth,

 

I apologise for my tardiness in responding but I am in hospital recovering. I was shot down during my last mission and captured by the resistance. Before you get all upset, I am all right. I am still listed in "guarded" condition whatever that means. I was finally allowed a data pad today after threatening my nurse with pulling out all my IVs and escaping.

Now that I am sufficiently recovered from the surgery and internal regen the doctors had to do, I am going in a kolto tank. They expect me to be in and out for about a week. Luckily they let me write this first. I took the holoimages for Odile, they are on my desk and I will send them as soon as I am out. I understand I am to be on light duties for at least month!

 

Please don't worry, I'll write as soon as I am able,

Malavai

 

From: Agilo, Kairoth

Subject: Thank the Emperor!

 

Oh Mal I've been in a flat panic. I'm so glad you're okay.

 

Just sending this back quickly so you know I've read your mail. You can tell me all about it when you're out of the tank.

Kai

 

From: Quinn, Malavai

Subject: Re: Thank the Emperor!

Dear Kairoth,

 

Let me, once again, apologise for a tardy response. They kept me in the tank for an extra four days and then insisted on keeping me in a recuperation wing in the hospital for another two days with no access to anything. I've been bored silly reading awful popular magazines while a bunch of nurses fussed around me as though I were 10. Plus not a chess board in sight!

 

It is perhaps the worst aspect of my "incarceration" on Balmorra, there have been so few opponents for chess of any note. The Chief of the Civilian police, a tall, bad tempered fellow named Barr indulges me when he has time, but he is too impatient to be a consistently good player and you have to catch him in the right mood.

 

At least I'm back in my barracks now, never have I been so glad to see the place! I have been put on bed rest for another two weeks and then light duties for three whole months minimum. None of my superiors have asked to speak with me, it is hard to know if that's a good or bad thing. Although they are always forthcoming with any complaints about my performance.

 

I've had a look at my fresh set of scars. Some shrapnel and repeated surgeries have left a number of round marks on my lower abdomen, not that anyone will see them apart from the medical personnel and myself. Still I find them slightly... displeasing. Perhaps it is just because it is a reminder of my own failure. You will be amused to hear they are making me use a cane as well, something about giving my lower body extra support. I don't think anyone would say I look distinguished though, I think I mainly look tired.

 

I've been told I'm not allowed to exert myself in any way, as my body has been through quite a trauma. Also, they have told me I have to see the base councillor because talking about my experiences while captured can help me to get over them more quickly. Load of damned nonsense really. I have done some research into the effects of interrogation and I am sure I will experience some of them, but I don't really need to be discussing it with some stranger sitting on a trendy chair trying to "put me at my ease".

 

I tried explaining I am a private man and that I do not wish to discuss what happened to me, but they will not sign me as fit for active duty until I have "made the effort to come to terms with it". It was all I could do not to swear at them, but I did settle for a scowl.

 

How are things at home? I've been quite concerned about you and Gen, I thought about you a lot while I was locked up. The first thing I did when I returned was get the pictures for Odile and write him a brief letter apologising for missing his birthday. I do hope they arrive soon.

 

Please let me know.

Malavai

 

From: Agilo, Kairoth

Subject: Thank the Emperor!

Dear Mal,

 

First, I sat Odile down and explained that sometimes serving officers have to disappear without much explanation and that it is always for the good of the Empire. He was, yes, disappointed, but he also said that he understood that your duties came first. I was very proud of him being so mature about it. I let him know when I got your mail and he went into transports of delight, so he's really looking forward to it. I didn't tell him about being injured, just that you were on an assignment. I decided the injury he didn't need to know about.

 

I'm so glad you're all right, I know it's part of the job but I worry. You're my best friend and the idea of losing you, well... I can't bear the thought. You're like a brother to me, Mal and I love you. Yes I know you're not comfortable with such emotions, but this time I feel the need to tell you. I worried and fretted the whole time you were in the tank. It's the worst thing about this distance, I can't even just come by and see you, make sure they're looking after you properly.

 

So, anyway, deal with it - I love you.

 

I know you don't like the idea of "talking to some stranger" but they can help, honestly. Yes you're incredibly private, perhaps a bit too private and that in itself can have a negative effect on your mental health. Talking about what happened while you were detained is important. They made me go because of my leg, after Druckenwell and like you I thought it would be a waste of time, but it really wasn't. The guy I saw had been injured himself, knew what I was going through and I could talk to him about stuff I was too scared to tell Gen.

 

Give it a go before dismissing it completely. Private or not, they're right. Interrogation... oh Mal, I can't even imagine what you went through, but sometimes it keeps me awake at night. Consider this being my version of "have you seen someone about your leg"? *evil grin*

 

I bet you do look distinguished with a cane, more so than me in all likelihood, and you have the rather stuck up attitude to match! Just think, it might be a lady magnet, not that you'd notice of course! Promise me you'll take it easy, huh? Get the rest they want you to - don't overdo things (as you are known to do)? Don't make me threaten, because I will!

Gen... I don't know exactly. She seems a little better, she's less distant with me and we're talking now. We actually had sex last night for the first time since this started, and this morning she was humming to herself in the kitchen while she made tea. So perhaps things are improving; I live in hope. Really I just want her to be happy, I love her more each day we are together. I feel so lucky to have her in my life.

 

I mean what I said about the counselling and looking after yourself, Mal. Don't make me tell you how much you mean to me again, I can see you blushing from here!

 

Love ya,

Kai

I really enjoyed the chapter. You do the aerial space stuff so well, very realistic. I was also very intrigued by the mission he was running for Baras, codename Achilles, that was great.

 

Poor Mal though, it hurts just to think of all he endured. The letters between him and Kai are lovely, it's heartwarming to see their friendship, so like brothers. Very nice.

Kai is probably right. It's often not the visible scars that are the biggest threat to our wellbeing.

I like the view of the Empire you show us here. They are not just evil for evil's sake. No, they care about their soldiers. They try to get their POWs back, and they offer or even insist on proper counseling.

There has to be something besides super-bad Sith to make the system work.

I really enjoyed the chapter. You do the aerial space stuff so well, very realistic. I was also very intrigued by the mission he was running for Baras, codename Achilles, that was great.

 

Poor Mal though, it hurts just to think of all he endured. The letters between him and Kai are lovely, it's heartwarming to see their friendship, so like brothers. Very nice.

 

Thank you Luna, I really LOVE planes and it annoys me that Quinn says he's a "top notch pilot" yet he never effing pilots anything, not even in the KOFTE cutscene!! So I wanted to show off his skills and his bromancy appreciation of the Mark VI comes from my own thoughts about it.

You will find its a running theme in this fiction, he'll eventually be piloting the Fury in space combat, so it's nice to know I have the "lingo" down. My research consisted of watching Battlestar ("it's all hands on here, COMMANDER Adama's orders"), because it sounded authentic enough and... well, I didn't even change the speed.

 

It hurt to write that part, but it can't all be wine and roses with him, and I wanted to do it properly. My inspiration for some of it was Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy as it seemed to be the way someone with training deals with torture and this idea that "real men don't break" is so much hokum. I love writing the letters, Kai sometimes allows me to say what I'm thinking (or I think the audience might think), and they inject some much needed humour too!

 

 

I DO always feel I should have an author's note that says "I LOVE PLANES/SHIPS!!" So... I suppose consider that your author's note!

Kai is probably right. It's often not the visible scars that are the biggest threat to our wellbeing.

I like the view of the Empire you show us here. They are not just evil for evil's sake. No, they care about their soldiers. They try to get their POWs back, and they offer or even insist on proper counseling.

There has to be something besides super-bad Sith to make the system work.

 

Thank you for your feedback

I can tell you for a fact that this kind of thing leaves scars, as I know people who have been through it and somehow I think if it is done for two long you do not get the same person back. I tried to balance that quite finely because I didn't want it to go too far where the aftermath would be very difficult, but it shouldn't be too easy either.

 

I'm not sure I believe the Empire are evil at all, they're different - some good, some bad. I know people like to reduce it to good and evil, but I take issue with that because the Republic are definitely not good and I can't help see it as a more nuanced world that that. I suppose for me it's about ideology. Not necessarily a huge fan of the Sith being better than everyone, also not a huge fan of the Jedi "no feelings" and "anger leads to the dark side" stuff. On the whole I prefer the Empire in the game because I prefer the classes

 

From: Quinn, Malavai

Subject: Stating the Obvious

Dear Kairoth,

 

It has been a week and I have now had two sessions with my councillor who wishes me to call him "Jax", but is actually Doctor Jacalan Narsil. Jax? I ask you!

 

So far he has managed to glean that 1. I am private, 2. interrogation does terrible things to people and 3. I am not sleeping properly, which is probably linked to 2. I'm so glad I have him to explain these complex concepts to me. That never would have occurred to me without his excellent guidance. When I pointed this out, he said I was being uncooperative then called me "Mal". I don't know what he said next because I stormed out. Did I mention he looks about the same age as Odile? I did want to ask if his father was available.

 

I have had an open row with admin because they will not agree that the second session is completed because "I walked out half way through" and therefore does not count. I told them it was patently ridiculous. So apparently I still have another 11 to go (10)!!

 

Dr. Narsil has sent me a datamail apologising and suggesting that we meet somewhere other than his office, perhaps my office, where I might feel more comfortable opening up. Apparently he wishes to talk about the scarring on my abdomen and my sleep issue. He also says he needs to ask me some personal questions about my "habits and proclivities". I have no idea what that means, but I am dreading it. Apparently standing up and shouting "I have nothing to say to you" has not indicated to him that I have nothing to say. I wonder if the sessions count if I sit and say nothing while he blathers on about my "feelings"? Like I would tell him! I will finish this off after my session.

 

I have just met with Dr. Narsil. NEVER have I been so insulted in my life! He says I'm "repressed" and that it is very bad for me. Apparently if I just talked about my feelings I would feel much, much better and everything would be fine then. As if confiding in him that it was awful, that I have nightmares that there are times I look in the mirror and feel hollow.... I do not wish to talk to him about this. I cannot talk to him about it. So for now I am going to talk to you. At least here, in these letters I feel I can be honest.

 

I cannot remember the nightmares for the most part. I wake up screaming, bathed in sweat. A few days ago I started crying afterwards, I couldn't move - it felt like I couldn't breathe. It was awful. I think the insomnia is probably more anxiety about the nightmares than anything. I also find the slightest noise wakes me, I have found no way to prevent this and the doctors who examined me now say it's hampering my recovery. I am not eating properly and they are considering readmitting me because I am struggling to care for myself properly. I am scared, and alone on a barren world because I once did the right thing, Kairoth, and I don't know what to do. I just know I cannot continue like this.

 

Let me know,

Malavai

 

From: Agilo, Kairoth

Subject: Re: Stating the Obvious

Dear Mal,

 

Okay well let's deal with the last thing first. Of course you can talk to me. Tell me whatever you wish, everything, nothing, anything that will help you. I have never been through it, so I can't offer any advice really, but I'll try, you know that. However, I really think you need to ask to see someone else. I have a friend who knows people, let me see what I can arrange.

 

Three italics wow, he really did piss you off, didn't he? You'd think he'd at least have the decency to ask what you wanted to be called before taking such liberties. Oh dear, I'm starting to sound like you.

 

I'll tell you a bit about what's going on here, but I'll keep it brief as I want to make sure that this gets back to you asap. Odile got your holoimages and is thrilled, you are now projected onto his wall with that slight scowl I recognise so well. You're still as handsome as ever, Mal, when will you be bringing a girl home to meet us?

 

Gen and I are kind of better I think, she is much more engaged with our marriage and much happier, so I'm hopeful things will continue.

 

Listen, after your last letter I called in a couple of favours with my famous Agilo charm and wit and Dr. Ashkaia Lonash is now on her way to Balmorra to meet you, arriving tomorrow on a priority shuttle from Dromund Kaas. She says she will want to see you every day for the rest of the time you are on bed rest and might extend it. She's good, Mal, highly recommended and top of her field. Being a favoured instructor at the Academy must have some benefits, eh?

 

Write soon, tell me everything Mal!

Kai

 

From: Quinn, Malavai

Subject: Ashkaia Lonash

Dear Kairoth,

 

I wanted to let you know that the doctor you sent for, Dr. Ashkaia Lonash, has arrived in Sobrik and we are seeing each other multiple times a day.

 

I have held off writing to you because I wanted to adjust to this first. Dr. Lonash is very helpful and I have found our sessions invaluable - light years better than the previous imbecile! I seem to be improving slowly. Dr. Lonash feels that, because I was only held for a short while, my recovery should be quicker, but will still take a significant amount of time. She wishes to continue my intensive therapy for another two weeks and has extended my rest period to match.

 

She says she will then drop the sessions to remote and three times a week and then diminish them more and more as I improve. I cannot thank you enough, Kairoth, she has really helped. As well as the normal "post traumatic" shock I have also been diagnosed with something called hyper vigilance, which is also fairly standard, but explains the constant waking. Something to do with being in a heightened state of alarm because of my experiences. She has provided me with a recording of sounds from an Imperial dreadnaught to aid that. I was sceptical, but I have found the engines, announcements and other noises I associate with serving on a big ship very comforting and I am sleeping better and even through the night! I am glad Odile is pleased with the images, I am not a huge fan of such things, but I know how much it means to him, and to you.

 

The doctors say my physical recovery is also good now and my appetite has improved. Generally, considering, I'm in very good spirits.

 

What is the news from Dromund Kaas?

Malavai

 

From: Agilo, Kairoth

Subject: Re: Ashkaia Lonash

Dear Mal,

 

Thank the Emperor that is good news! I am ... so ... so relieved. It sounds like you're really trying and it's even helping! I was all ready to book the next shuttle out to Balmorra, but Gen is starting to waver again and I'm too scared to leave her. She kept saying I should go and help you, but my gut told me that it would be a poor decision on my part. She's not exactly pulling away, but she is more distant. I am not sure what to do about it, I'm just trying to be supportive, but I wish I could actually help her. I feel guilty about not coming out to you, but ... Gen comes first.

 

Odile and Paria continue to ask after you, I've not told them about your recent experiences, obviously that would be inappropriate. Odile is working on a thank you letter, he wants to include some of the work he's been doing at school and gave me, I kid you not, a BOOK of things. I told him he could choose two. Expect something from us in a month or so. I'll include your new drawing, I think you'll be pleased!

 

Let me know how you are, I still worry about you,

Kai

~

 

A New Skill

Once again Quinn stood in front of his console and activated the holoprojector. 'Lord Baras,' he said and bowed, 'how may I be of assistance?'

 

'Ahh Quinn, I was rather surprised to find out that you were still alive after your Interceptor was lost. I have a new assignment for you.'

 

'Of course, as always I am glad to serve,' he replied.

 

'I notice you are now on light duties. You are fortunate that I have this task as I still require you to be useful. I wish for you to partake in a series of courses in medicine, as I feel your remit could be usefully widened. I plan to use all your remaining light duty time with an intensive course and some of your on duty time with practical work in the field. Luckily, as Balmorra is rife with conflict, there are a number of programmes on offer in Sobrik itself. Many of the Empire's best and brightest have trained there on the wounded and dying. I expect you to be one of them. Details will follow, as usual,' he finished and ended the call.

 

Quinn sat back down at his work console feeling his sore abdomen protest at being mistreated. He groaned slightly, the doctors said it was to be expected, but it annoyed him that in a time of such advanced medical science sore muscles were still sore muscles.

 

The console beeped within a few minutes and he sat and skimmed his new orders, which was unusual. His last few missions for Darth Baras had taken hours or days for the orders to be transmitted. He was expected to present himself the following day at the Imperial Medical Training Centre in Sobrik, all arrangements had been made. Apparently his training was to start immediately and his sessions with Dr. Lonash had been moved to the evening, three times a week. No further details were given about the course.

 

The following day, Quinn presented himself as instructed and was taken to see Captain Chen. Her office was rather austere and lined with medical texts. She was a young woman, with golden tan skin, dark eyes and hair that was tied up in a bun. As Quinn approached, she looked up and smiled and he was struck by how warm her smile was. In such a stark place, it was unexpected and beautiful.

 

He saluted, 'Lieutenant Malavai Quinn reporting for Course IMC001 Basic Field Medic.'

 

'At ease, lieutenant,' she replied, suddenly all business and he shifted to parade rest.

 

The Captain stood and Quinn became aware of the click, click of her shoes on the floor, they echoed somewhat more than he would have expected. She stopped and looked at him, 'Good. I've had a look over your records and, frankly, I don't want to train you on IMC001, hence why you're here. I looked up your records, no one comes through those doors without my knowing who they are and what they've done. I've seen your whole jacket.'

 

Quinn felt his stomach tighten, he wasn't sure if it would be about Druckenwell or the fact he worked for a Sith, either way he had a bad feeling.

 

Chen continued, 'You came top of your class at the academy, your instructors consistently describe you as having a gifted mind. I would prefer to start you on the more accelerated course. It's a more challenging programme, you'll work harder and longer, but you'll get your basic qualification in half the time. That means, if you're willing, you can move onto the more advanced training before going out to the field. Your orders indicated you are to be as well trained as possible, and I feel this is a wiser course. Are you willing, lieutenant?'

 

'I am, Captain' he replied without hesitation.

 

'Good,' she replied, then stopped in front of him, 'I have seen the order for your inclusion on the programme and I want you to know we don't play favourites, no matter your sponsor.'

 

'I would expect nothing less, sir,' he replied.

 

She held his gaze for a moment before nodding, 'You will be in Captain Nixesse's group. Report to the mortuary, Lieutenant, now we get to see how strong your stomach is.'

 

Quinn returned to his barracks that evening exhausted and aching but happy. It had been a good day, the first really good day for a while. He had not expected to enjoy medical training, imagining it to be too gruesome for him. Surprisingly once he got past the initial shock of dissecting the dead body lying in front of him, he realised it was just another type of problem solving, something at which he excelled. Captain Nixesse was a competent teacher, but Quinn suspected he would need more to challenge him mentally, even on the accelerated course. However, he did have a considerable amount of work to complete, mainly memorisation, but in pursuit of the greater goal the tedium was well worth it.

 

From: Quinn, Malavai

Subject: Something Different

Dear Kairoth,

 

I appreciate your concern, but there was no need for you to come rushing to see me. You would have been just as useless here and in the meantime Geneste really needs you. You should never even think of choosing me over your wife, Kairoth, neither of us would thank you for it.

 

I have been given a new task by my superiors, I am learning medicine. It is not something I had ever really considered, but apparently I need to expand my remit. So expand it I shall. I am really enjoying it, to tell you the truth, light duties are dull and this, at least, is keeping my mind occupied while my body finishes healing. My healing is going fine, and my doctors seem happy with it. I am mainly just experiencing periods of stiffness that can be painful if I stay in one position too long, apparently this is an issue with abdominal muscles.

 

I am continuing my sessions with Dr. Lonash and I have to say the nightmares have abated, for which I am very grateful. I think that is helping my energy and healing, as I am getting a decent amount of sleep most nights. She seems pleased with my progress and has said she is hoping to drop us to two sessions a week within a month.

How is Geneste doing? How are Odile and Paria coping? I worry about your little family in light of her continued problems. Is she feeling better, it's not, and I mean no disrespect, to do with her monthly cycle is it? I wish I could be of more use, but I have no favours to call in and no one to send to help her. Still I hope to be of some, small service to you.

 

I will let you know how I get on, my first class started today, and already I am looking forward to getting back to it in the morning.

 

Malavai

 

From: Agilo, Kairoth

Subject: Re: Something Different

Dear Mal,

 

A medic? Wow! Is there anything you aren't good at? I will expect to hear regular (if gruesome) updates from your anatomy classes!

 

Gen is a bit better, she seems to get closer to me for a while and then she slips away again, but today she was smiling at me and kissing me again. No it is not to do with her period, Mal, seriously! Please never say that to a patient lest having your head bashed in with something heavy offends! I know you mean well, but perhaps you need to, you know, LEARN something about women? And I don't mean reading, I mean, you know, dating? Going out with one? A real one? Talking to her... that kind of thing?

 

Odile and Paria are very busy at school and as she is okay with them currently I don't think they've noticed. I don't want to bring it up and worry them if it's nothing serious. I have taken over the bedtime routine for the time being, but I'm enjoying it. Seeing you scowling from my son's bedroom wall gives me something to smile about most evenings.

I admit, I'm feeling rather down myself right now. My life is not what I imagined it would be. I thought we would be serving together in the far flung reaches of the galaxy. As was always the case, with you leading and me following.

 

I do not regret marrying, I love Gen so, so much and without my injury I would not have her, but I would also like my life to be about more than raising children and being a good husband to her. She has her own friends and has expressed an interest in a new hobby. We are not a couple who "do everything together", which is fine, but sometimes it just feels like it applies more to her than to me. I think I just want some time for myself to be my own man. If I can't be the man who follows you proudly, I would like to be the man of whom you're proud for something more than just my drawing.

 

Before you say you are proud of me, I guess I know that, but I miss you. Life is different without you and I miss the closeness of our friendship before I was injured. I love my life, but there is always a tiny part of me that wonders what might have been for us together, as friends, conquering for the Empire. I have never blamed you for Druckenwell. As much as you hold yourself responsible, we both know who the culprit is. I just read your letters and sometimes feel wistful for military service: for the life I imagined. I know yours hasn't exactly turned out how you hoped either. I suppose maybe we both lost more than we bargained for that day.

 

Sorry to be such a downer, it's just you're the only person I trust with this stuff. Hey, write me and make me smile!

Kai

 

From: Quinn, Malavai

Subject: Re: Something Different

Dear Kairoth,

 

I apologise, first for the delay in writing, my studies have been keeping me very busy. I am also sorry that I have been so wrapped up in my own issues that I have not considered yours. Yes, you're right I am going to say I'm proud of you - because I am. You are teaching the next generation of Imperial leaders, of Grand Moffs and those who will shape the Empire! It is a great honour and responsibility.

 

Like you, I had hoped to have more of an impact, I had hoped one day to rise to the rank of Grand Moff and to take the Empire into the future, but I have long since put that dream behind me. You, my friend, are having more of an impact that I ever will, and I AM proud of you. Yes I know sometimes you read my letters and are wistful, but I read yours and feel the same. You nearly lost your leg, you nearly lost your life and you came back from that to a profoundly important career, a wife who loves you and children on whom I know you dote! To make such an impact on the Empire and moreover to love and be loved in return. There is something rather beguiling in the idea of having such a life!

 

I too miss the closeness of our friendship when we served together, but I also understand that friendships such as ours have to evolve and change and, frankly, I think ours has done rather well considering. If you wish to be more than you are, then my strong advice is do so. Not to the extent that it hurts your marriage, but if you are not a "do everything together" couple, then don't try and be one. Any disparity should be addressed through careful discussion according to my research. If she is interested in a new hobby, perhaps try and find one yourself or plan the activities you wish to explore into a time when Geneste is engaged with this hobby?

 

I have found that the medical course is very interesting and I have already come top of the class in my first examination. Many of the students now seem interested in being friendly with me, when before they all avoided me. I have decided to steer clear of them as it's obvious to any idiot they simply wish for me to help them with their studies and I am neither interested in being their friend nor in improving their obviously deficient minds.

 

The practical stuff is, yes, gruesome is a good word. I've been around my fair share of dead bodies, but having actually to touch one for long periods takes some getting used to. We had two students faint and one was seriously sick. I am, so far, unaffected but the smell of the corpses is... distasteful and I do not like it. Apparently one simply gets used to it, but I am sure it will be no issue with a living person. It is nice to be learning a new skill and I find I'm rather enjoying the subject itself. I had never thought of being proficient at healing, but I am looking forward to putting it into practice.

 

I hope this cheered you up somewhat,

Malavai

~

 

The next six weeks flew past as Quinn got to grips with his training. As he predicted, it soon became apparent that even the accelerated programme was not fast enough for him, so in the end Captain Chen agreed to teach him herself, as he was easily scoring top marks on all her exams. She threw everything at him, often at once, but she was a very good teacher and they soon reached a good pace at which he would be mentally challenged without being overwhelmed.

 

As he was not allowed in the field until the end of his period of light duties, his practical experience was limited to the hospital in Sobrik itself. He had fully expected his rather cold demeanour to be a disadvantage when dealing with actual patients, but he found that it gave him a gravitas most of his fellow students lacked.

 

He spent the intervening time completing a number of other courses including advanced field and trauma medicine and advanced in-combat techniques. It surprised him how much he enjoyed medicine, especially the trauma side as the patient was usually unconscious and in critical condition so being able to make snap decisions based on available data was a skill that was valued and encouraged.

 

After he was signed back onto full active duty, Chen sent him to the field. She decided that Sundari Imperial Outpost with its constant influx of casualties was the best place for him to get a taste of the practical side of medicine. It was certainly overwhelming. He worked 12 hour shifts, at first shadowing more experienced team members, but soon as a leader of his own team as the lack of experienced and qualified personnel became critical. The flow of patients was nearly non-stop and the injuries ranged from minor cuts and scrapes to major traumas of every kind imaginable. Quite often Quinn found himself working longer than his shifts, just to see cases through to the end.

 

After three months he was also recommended for an additional course in basic trauma surgery by the commander of the medical unit at Sundari. He was even allowed to complete his book studies alongside the practical work he did on shift.

 

For the first time in a long while he was content. The work was gruelling, yes, but it was a place where he was appreciated, and his skills and intellect were being used to a reasonable level. He didn't want acknowledgement, or even advancement particularly. Being able to push himself mentally and seeing results, men and women able to walk away from horrific injuries because of his effort was the real reward. It was a tangible result and that was strangely pleasing.

 

Agent Provocateur

Quinn was about half way through his shift, which had actually been relatively light due to the new ceasefire, when a man was brought in. Dr Shelbra called over, 'Team two! You're up with this one, patient Echo Peth 729."

The paramedic team rushed in with a patient on a stretcher, they quickly moved him over onto the examination bed. Once moved, Quinn looked up at the paramedic, who he knew to be Jacwayn Chilavi, a seasoned, stocky and weathered man with chestnut skin, a round face and closely cropped, greying hair. His partner was extremely new, he stood just to Chilavi's right side quietly.

 

'What have we got, Haifar?' he asked the younger man. Chilavi smiled, Quinn knew he always appreciated seeing the lesser experienced team members being included in the process.

 

'Patient is human, male, no id, appears to be in his late 20s. Found at 1127, KO'd at the scene. He was lying on his front, two blaster wounds, both penetrating and cauterised. One to the posterior scapula and one to the popliteal fossa both from behind. Sats 82, we bagged him and they improved to 92. BP 118/74, pulse 119 and stable. He was given 10 of gioss at the scene and has had fluid. His temp is low at 36, we think he might have been out there all night, but he responded well to being warmed.'

 

Quinn busied himself doing a preliminary check; the patient was in his late 20s with an oval face, wide mouth and deep olive skin. His shaggy, fawn hair and bright amber eyes made him look younger than Quinn suspected he actually was. The man had no tags or scannable chip to identify him. He looked up at Chilavi, 'Why did you bring him in, there's no indication that he's Imperial?'

 

The paramedic sidled closer, 'When I scanned him, I found this,' he replied passing over a datapad.

Quinn looked down and read the file, it was an ID from a deep brain implant, apparently undetectable to normal scanners. The file indicated the man was not only Imperial but if he was found all efforts must be made to ensure his safety as he was considered a "special asset". No more information was given.

 

Quinn raised an eyebrow at Chilavi, who shrugged, 'Never seen one before.'

 

'All right, thank you both,' he replied addressing both paramedics before they left.

 

Quinn and his team worked on the man for nearly two hours, before he stabilised and was moved into a kolto tank in the critical care centre. Unfortunately for the patient, he had missed the patient transfer shuttle by a day and so would be there for nearly a week before the next one.

 

Three days later, Quinn was sitting having a somewhat leisurely breakfast when an explosion made him tense. He was used to the sound of gunfire and explosions but this one had seemed quite a lot closer than he was used to and his body tensed. He put away his datapad and rushed out of the mess tent to see a cloud of black smoke near the medical unit, followed by the sound of blaster fire. Some sixth sense made him rush to his bunk and grab his own blaster. Everything about the incident seemed deeply wrong - he had been at Sundari nearly six months and had never heard shots fired inside the camp before. He had a feeling it was related to their strange guest in the kolto tank.

 

He headed away from the sound of blaster fire and into the CCU, finding the correct tank and pressed the emergency release. It seemed better to be wrong and put the man back in the kolto than risk his life by indecision. The liquid immediately drained as the tank pumped it away while simultaneously injecting the occupant with a drug to revive him quickly. By the time all the liquid had been removed, the man was fully conscious and removing the breathing apparatus.

 

He looked at Quinn, 'I'm guessing there's trouble?'

 

'Yes, I think whomever shot you is back to finish the job. Sound likely?'

 

The man nodded, 'It does, yeah,' he had the rather languid drawl of the Republic, but Quinn guessed it was for cover, rather than preference.

 

'Then we need to get you out of here. Come on,' he replied, then looked at the man's state of undress 'Don't worry I'll find you some clothes, but not here. Follow me.'

 

Together, they headed out of the back of CCU and skirted around the various other installations before reaching Quinn's bunk once again. Quickly rummaging through his locker, he found some suitable clothes and a pair of boots. While the man dressed, he put together a field supply medical kit and some rations.

 

'I'm Jarezka, Jarezka Roos,' the man held out his hand and smiled an easy-going smile. Briefly, he wondered how many people had been taken in by his youth and nonchalant attitude.

 

He gave Roos a withering look, he wasn't overly fond of deep cover agents, thinking them to lack honour.

 

Lieutenant Quinn,' he replied taking Jarezka's hand rather reluctantly.

 

'Odd first name, lieutenant,' he replied, smiling 'How do you suggest we get out of here?'

 

Before he could reply, four people ran in, three men and a woman, heavily armed and definitely not friendly. The woman shouted, 'Hands up!"

 

Both he and Roos raised their hands, locking their fingers above their heads. Two of the group approached and began a pat down while the others kept them covered. Once disarmed, the apparent leader approached, them, pointing his blaster rifle in Quinn's face, 'We're looking for a patient. He would have been brought in 3-4 days ago.'

 

'All right, well we have about 50 of those,' he replied carefully, 'You're going to have to be more specific?'

 

'He was in his late 20s, human, name of Dalgian Rylos.'

 

'Doesn't sound familiar. I can check our register?' he suggested.

 

'First identify yourself.'

 

'Lieutenant Malavai Quinn, trauma field surgeon, this is my technician Jarezka Roos.'

 

'How long have you served here?'

 

'Six months,' replied Quinn promptly.

 

'About a year,' replied Roos.

 

Suddenly there was another violent explosion and more blaster fire, the foursome exchanged looks and two ran out. Roos seemed to take this as his cue and brought his hands down. Flicking his wrist almost nonchalantly, a dart shot out from a device hidden there and hit the first man in the neck. Simultaneously, Roos jumped towards the other man, using the chaos he'd created to get the upper hand. He kicked the back of his knee and fired twice, killing both. Quinn rushed forward taking his own weapon and holstering it before grabbing the larger rifle.

 

Roos turned and looked at him, 'I suggest we want to go out the back way?'

 

Quinn nodded, 'Yes, I think we're going to have to head out into the wild until this dies down.'

 

The two men slipped quietly out of the back of the building and Quinn found a patrol speeder, charged and ready to go. The other man climbed on behind him and Quinn handed him his blaster, 'You're going to want this, those rifles are two handed.'

 

Roos took it gratefully, 'Do you know where we're going?' he asked.

 

'No. Hold on!"

 

The speeder shot out of the bay and he guided it towards the nearest gate with Roos on the back, hanging on with one hand and shooting with the other. Internally, Quinn groaned, he felt like he was in one of those extremely puerile action holos where the dashing hero always managed to escape whilst performing impossible stunts against ridiculous odds.

 

Another day in the life of the idiots. Bast.ards! he thought.

 

Once they were across the bridge and clear of Sundari itself, Quinn turned west towards Gorinth Outpost. He was just thinking of slowing the speeder to get his bearings when the scream of engines made him look round, a light armoured skiff was coming up on their six. Hitting the throttle, he began some basic evasive manoeuvres, scanning the horizon for some cover just as the skiff opened fire. As the speeder banked and turned, Quinn was vaguely aware of Roos shooting back.

 

Stupid, like you're going to be able to bring down that thing with a blaster.

 

Unfortunately on war-torn planets like Balmorra cover was hard to come by, but just ahead on the right, there was a small canyon that might do. As they headed into the canyon, Roos tapped Quinn on the shoulder and shouted, 'Stop here! We might be able to hit it with the rifles!'

 

He pulled up quickly and they both jumped off, finding some rocks for cover, both men took aim and started firing rapidly at the skiff as it approached. A number of shots hit the starboard engine and it caught fire, causing the skiff to lose altitude. It quickly became obvious to Quinn, as an experienced pilot, that it was going to crash.

 

He looked at Roos, 'We have to move! NOW!'

 

They both turned and ran further into the canyon, Quinn ducked behind a boulder just as the craft hit the ground and the whole area was engulfed in flames.

 

Once the smoke had cleared, he looked around desperately for Roos, but he was nowhere to be seen. Carefully, Quinn started to shift debris, until he found the man lying on his back impaled on a twisted piece of metal .

'Roos?' he said quietly.

 

The other man's eyelids fluttered open and fixed on him, 'Hey there. Guess this is going to be a slightly different conversation than the one I thought I would be having,' he said, smiling ruefully.

 

'Try not to talk,' replied Quinn, busily unpacking his medical kit.

 

Roos put his hand out to stop him, 'No, lieutenant, it's too late. I think we both know that. Now you have to listen to me, it is vital this information gets back to Darth Baras.'

 

'Darth Baras?' he asked, confused.

 

'I've been working for him. I was dropped into Balmorra in a box about six weeks ago. I've been helping the resistance build a bomb. All the information about the people involved, the plan, their deployments and everything I could find out is stored in my implant. Once I'm dead, which won't be more than a few minutes, you need to extract it. Go in through the eye and you'll find it don't worry. You have to get it back to Sobrik and then transmit it to Dromund Kaas by any means necessary. The frequency, clearances, it's all on there...'

 

Quinn nodded, 'I will see that it gets there, I swear it on my honour.'

 

Roos looked at him and nodded but said nothing more.

 

He scanned the horizon, 'Once it's done, I'll wait for the cover of darkness, then head to Gorinth, it's only a few kilometres from here,' when he looked down he realised that Roos had slipped away. Carefully, he checked the medical readouts. No pulse, no signs of life. He closed the man's eyes and bowed his head for a moment out of respect before beginning the rather gruesome extraction procedure. After storing the implant safely amongst his medical equipment, Quinn headed for higher ground to wait for the cover of darkness.

 

The walk to Gorinth took Quinn about 2 hours, mainly because he kept having to stop to avoid random patrols, maniac droids and local wildlife, none of whom were very friendly. Usually he would worry less about confrontation, but carrying the precious information he had been entrusted with, he decided he needed to avoid drawing attention to himself.

 

Once at Gorinth he commandeered a shuttle to take him straight to Sobrik. The duty sergeant gave him a lopsided look as he was covered in black soot and blood, but as his clearances checked out, the woman had no choice but to obey. He strode back to his barracks and immediately loaded the data, input his own clearance and followed the instructions provided on the implant itself. With his duty complete, he opted for a long shower in his own refresher and a quiet night in his bunk before catching the 0400 shuttle back to Sundari and his regular duties.

 

In many ways he hoped he was never recalled from the field, but after two more gruelling, wonderful months he received a message on his datapad informing him that Darth Baras required him back in Sobrik and he was to be briefed the next day. Packing his meagre belongings and getting on the shuttle was the hardest thing he had had to do since being assigned to Balmorra. Despite that, he felt, once again, that at least he had contributed to the advancement of the Empire, and that, in the end, was all that mattered.

I enjoy the back and forth between Kairoth and Mal and the ease of their friendship. Some fascinating developments here, and I look forward to see what comes next.

This is great ! I love the idea of Quinn's life *before* the Sith Warrior story! And I also love more military stories in Star Wars.

I love your approach here; the backstory woven about Quinn's life prior to meeting the Sith Warrior and actually making him the main protagonist. It's also clever how you're balancing the "glimpse into Quinn's life" through both action and his letter exchanges with Kai.

 

Your skill for writing space battles and missions, I'm a little envious, they're wonderful. Seeing Quinn captured and tortured was, grueling but I'm glad he got out of there and managed to work through it. And now he's become a medic.

 

Keep up the wonderful work.