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There is no death, there is only Wrath


bright_ephemera

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A Dark Side female Warrior who puts storyline spoilers all over her life. No idea what standard fanfic protocol is, so, here I go.

 

(Edit: Filling in here a bit: Dark Side female Warrior Nalenne has her class Interlude distressingly interrupted when an old friend returns to take up residence on her ship. 400-700 word scenes, posted as I see fit, with spoilers throughout the Sith Warrior line.)

 

 

There is no death, there is only Wrath

 

Featuring Nalenne and co.:

 

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/NalenneContinuitySmaller.png

 

 

Table of Contents

 

1. In which Vette skips town and Nalenne reads comic books

2. In which Quinn shows up

3. In which Pierce freaks out and Quinn criticizes

4. In which Nalenne improves herself and Broonmark helps

5. In which Nalenne seeks her sister's advice and Quinn gets worried

6. In which the men of the house consult with Nalenne

7. In which ghost experts pay a visit (I/II)

8. In which betrayal surprises no one, but something else surprises several (II/II)

9. In which Vette and Jaesa get home

10. In which Jaesa gets a word in edgewise

 

11. In which Nalenne tests Quinn's limits

12. In which Vette and the crew check the couch cushions

13. In which the crew discusses life after death and also pop music (I/II)

14. In which Jaesa observes the crew (II/II)

15. In which Nalenne reads comics and Jaesa expresses concern

16. In which we remember why it didn't work out and a fight starts

17. In which Pierce observes Tatooine and Vette disapproves (I/IV)

18. In which the crew explores Tatooine and rakghouls (II/IV)

19. In which the rakghoul mystery is largely ignored (III/IV)

20. In which each contributes according to his or her talents (IV/IV)

 

21. Mini-snippet: In which Quinn customizes 2V-R8

22. In which Nalenne gets a job update and Quinn comments

23. In which Broonmark marks the occasion and Vette wonders why

24. In which Jaesa's reading habits come to light

25. In which a widow and her husband reminisce

26. In which Nalenne asks Pierce a long-suppressed question

27. In which Nalenne meets someone and some disapprove (I/II)

28. In which the Hand shows its hand (II/II)

29. In which Nalenne reports to her sister

30. In which Quinn steps slightly out of character to get jealous

 

31. In which the Wrath arrives on Ord Mantell (I/III)

32. In which Nalenne mixes it up with a Knight (II/III)

33. In which Nalenne leaves Comic-Con Ord Mantell (III/III)

34. In which Vette and Pierce take Nalenne to Korriban (I/IV)

35. In which a question is asked and answered for Quinn and Nalenne (II/IV)

36. In which Nalenne examines her vows (III/IV)

37. In which the crew seeks Voss answers (IV/IV)

38. In which Nalenne encounters a Gree representative

39. In which Jaesa bothers Nalenne about Quinn

40. In which Nalenne witnesses a Republic operation

 

41. In which Nalenne and Quinn have a serious talk

42. In which Nalenne catches Quinn conspiring

43. In which Jaesa's extracurriculars draw scrutiny

44. In which Nalenne kills time (and wampas) on Hoth

45. Mini-snippet: In which Quinn cleans house

46. Mini-snippet: In which Nalenne practices

47. In which Nalenne and Quinn review the paperwork

48. In which Nalenne finds a smuggler (I/II)

49. In which Nalenne argues a job with a smuggler (II/II)

50. In which Vette speaks her mind to Quinn

 

51. In which Broonmark cheers Nalenne up

52. In which Quinn first extends an olive branch

53. In which we see the average day in the life of the Wrath

54. In which we reaffirm heroic opinions

55. In which a distraction tactic is considered

56. In which Vette badgers Nalenne to try something new (I/II)

57. In which Nalenne talks to herself (II/II)

58. In which Nalenne calls someone

59. In which Jaesa and Vette talk it over with Nalenne

60. In which Nalenne follows Jaesa into trouble

 

61. In which Nalenne corresponds with Lord Grathan and complains about love

62. In which the crew drinks, drinks, and makes merry

63. In which Nalenne and Pierce test Broonmark's work while Quinn disapproves

64. In which Pierce cleans up after Servant Nine

65. In which Nalenne and Jaesa analyze a military attitude

66. In which Nalenne subcontracts to Imperial Intelligence (I/II)

67. In which Nalenne and Dahlia chat (II/II)

68. Mini-snippet: In which Nalenne checks her romantic status

69. In which Nalenne has a full life and avoids Vette's latest idea

70. In which Pierce pays his debts

 

71. In which Nalenne questions Quinn's behavior

72. In which Nalenne finds a change vis-à-vis Servant Nine

73. In which Quinn extends a second olive branch

74. In which Quinn compromises his principles

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

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

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

78. In which Nalenne wallows in self-pity

79. In which Nalenne lays out Plan B

80. In which Nalenne faces the Imperial Government

 

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

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

83. In which Nalenne has and holds while Broonmark questions

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

85. In which Nalenne gets an unexpected tip

86. In which we beseech the powers that be for class rebalancing

87. In which we learn the price of disobedience

88. In which Quinn and Nalenne don't start

89. In which Niselle and Nalenne talk some more

90. In which the crew considers their options

 

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

92. In which Quinn lets the cat out of the bag

93. In which Niselle makes Nalenne an offer she can’t refuse (I/VII)

94. In which Nalenne locates Niselle (II/VII)

95. In which Nalenne confronts the Jedi Knight (III/VII)

96. In which Quinn makes demands (IV/VII)

97. In which two couples discuss (V/VII)

98. In which Nalenne and Quinn go to Belsavis (VI/VII)

99. In which Nalenne and Quinn verify things (VII/VII)

100. Epilogue: In which things are no longer normal

 

 

 

Part 1: In which Vette skips town and Nalenne reads comic books

 

There once was a Twi'lek named Vette

(Who, astoundingly, ain't been killed yet)

Though twice caught and enslaved

She just kept getting saved...

But she's not so well off now, I bet.

 

 

"Hey. Lord High Sith-a-muck."

 

Nalenne looked up from her comic book. Vette stood in the doorway between the holo room's reading nook and the bridge. "Yeah?" said the Sith.

 

"Weren't you supposed to get a job?"

 

"I have a job. Emperor's Wrath? You were there." She tapped the datapad to the next page, where Duranium Man was demonstrating his superiority over the costumed Jawa called Blizzard in both suaveness and combat prowess.

 

"Yeah, but...have you noticed he hasn't asked you to be wrathful lately?"

 

"All in good time."

 

"And you're not worried about the silence?"

 

The Pureblood looked up again. "Should I be? The Hand tells me the Emperor's sleeping off some disagreement, so that's fine. As for anybody else...a few weeks back I pummeled my second Dark Council member into the dirt. And my sister got herself a chair there, too. Nobody's going to mess with me, I'm getting paid from the Council's coffers, and if anybody does come to kill me I can deal with 'em."

 

"You sure about that?"

 

Nalenne set the datapad aside - Blizzard's ice beam was malfunctioning mid-party-trick and Duranium Man was obviously setting up for some killer one-liner, but the Twi'lek was getting worrisome here - and stood up. "I'm pretty sure. Don't get any ideas. That collar's still on."

 

"The one you lost the remote for a year and a half ago? Yeah, I'm quaking here." Vette tapped the slave collar on her neck and wrinkled her nose. "I can't just wander off without raising major questions, but you can't punish me."

 

Nalenne raised her arm for a backhand.

 

"Um, you can't shock punish me specifically," Vette said quickly. "You are so sensitive, you know that? Ever since - well, before Baras. Ever since you killed Captain No-Fun, you've been wound up as tight as he used to be."

 

Ouch. "Thanks. I hadn't noticed."

 

"Just sayin'. If we're not on the job, I was thinking of maybe a Nar Shaddaa outing? There's this festival they have every year down in the Nautolan projects - sounds sketchy, is sketchy, but it's a great time, and I figured a week-long vacation..."

 

"You mean a week-long bender."

 

"Vacation. That's what I said."

 

"You don't seriously expect me to come with you."

 

"No, I expect you to let me whisk Jaesa away. I get girl time, you get...don't ever tell me what you get, I'll just enjoy the aroma of blood that'll be there when I get back, knowing you had a good time."

 

Never mind the sarcasm; there were magic words in there. "If you'll take Saint Jaesa off my hands, I'll fly you anywhere you want."

 

"Yess! Hyperspace coordinates are already in. We'll be out of your hair before you know it. Or would be, if you had hair." Vette bounded off.

 

Nalenne settled back on the couch and tapped the datapad again for a full-page portrait of Blizzard getting thrown through the window of a skyscraper's observation deck. Duranium Man stood in the jagged remains of the windowframe, fiddling with a couple of freshly loosened screws near his shoulder, looking down at the falling Jawa: "Next time? Try stealing the jet thrusters first."

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Having met or mentioned the female half of the crew, let's get to the reason for our title...

 

Part 2: In which Quinn shows up

 

 

There once was a man from Balmorra,

Took a job with a Sithy signora.

Got in over his head,

Double-crossed her (it's said),

Now he's food for Corellian remora.

 

 

"Pierce! Broonmark! Good news! We're gonna go party on Ilum."

 

Pierce and the Talz both showed up in the holo room at Nalenne's yell. "Finally," said Pierce. "Thought I would die of boredom here."

 

"We've been out of combat for all of eighteen hours, Lieutenant."

 

"Yeah. 'Bout time I got some action." Broonmark blipped agreement. "Hey, you think Jaesa and Vette will stay gone this time?"

 

Nalenne sighed. "We can always hope. But no. You know I have to keep Jaesa on a leash or she'll start using her goody-goody power to bring about goody-goody freedom for the good of all."

 

"We could just kill her."

 

Nalenne hesitated. It was true, and it had been brought up many times before. "No. I went through too much to get her here."

 

"And now you won't stop whining about - " Pierce finally caught the look on her face. "Right. I'll just get my rifles prepped, then get us on our way."

 

She nodded and went to her quarters. She stepped in, let the door fall shut behind her, finished fiddling with the datapad, set it aside, and looked up.

 

Malavai Quinn was standing there.

 

I killed you. Panic kicked Nalenne's Force awareness up - there was a weird empty feeling where he stood instead of the glow of life, but it was definitely him. She drew her saber and slammed a crushing blow into...open space.

 

"I am already dead, my lord," he said apologetically.

 

She blinked. She blinked again. He looked all right for a dead guy. Immaculate uniform, which was funny because when he died it had been pierced and slashed in multiple places by a lightsaber. She took a minute to marshal her thoughts. He stood at a taut parade rest and waited.

 

"So are you a Jedi now?" she said. "One with the Force? You couldn't even see the Force!"

 

"My lord, please," he said disgustedly. "It's nothing like that. I have a job to finish."

 

"That job being killing me? Little late for that, don't you think? Your old boss is dead."

 

"I know. I am no longer required to try to harm you."

 

"So why. are. you. here."

 

"I am not certain, my lord. I believe that, contractual obligations being what they are, I am still slated for service to you. It was iterated in the recruitment speech, the wedding vows, and four other occasions. At the same time, when I found myself...aware, I had an obligation to Baras to kill you. I thought it advisable to temporize until one of these requirements was lifted." He shifted his nonexistent weight and looked around her bedroom. "Now I'm here."

 

"What if I don't want your service?"

 

"You could try divorce, my lord. I'm not sure it would fully resolve the situation."

 

"So what'll it take to get rid of you?"

 

"I don't know yet."

 

Nalenne considered. She experimentally jabbed at Quinn's midsection. Her saber passed through the apparition with zero resistance. She had never heard of a non-Force ghost before.

 

"I'm not happy about this, captain."

 

"It is not what I would have chosen myself, my lord."

 

"Hmph. Well, apologize and then you can return to your old quarters for now."

 

"Yes. Well. I'm...sorry?"

 

"For what?" she prompted.

 

"Trying to murder you?"

 

"And for opening fire on that Jedi back on Belsavis."

 

"My lord..."

 

"Say it."

 

"I'm sorry for opening fire on the Jedi. Never mind that he was obvious trouble and - "

 

"Now for letting me sweat when I thought General Faraire was going to get away, rather than bothering to call me with the plan."

 

"Were you keeping a list?"

 

"Oh yes."

 

Some time later she finally let him go. This was bad. The thing about the people she killed was, they were supposed to stay dead and out of the way and definitely not show up back at her ship.

 

Worse, Quinn must already have realized that she couldn't enforce discipline on an incorporeal being, not without much better fine Force control than she had. She had to hope he would obey her out of habit.

 

Hmm, or out of the hope that proper service would let him free.

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Part 3: In which Pierce freaks out and Quinn criticizes

 

 

A perfidious bastard named Quinn -

Hold on. That's not fair. Try again.

What I'm trying to say

Is the man was okay

'til he shivved me. I did that jerk in.

 

 

 

The boys were out on errands planetside. Nalenne needed time alone to think.

 

For quite some time she failed to think of anything useful at all. At some point ghost-Quinn emerged from his quarters and approached her. "My lord."

 

"You."

 

"I am not surprised you converted my quarters to storage..."

 

"Nor should you be."

 

"...but I did not realize you were going to expand your collection of hard-copy comics."

 

"Problem?"

 

"I was willing to tolerate the entire two-hundred-year run of Captain Kaas in the cargo bay, but this..." He huffed. "Are you really collecting Scarlet Nexu?"

 

"Do you have a problem with Scarlet Nexu?" No wonder I killed him.

 

"In all our time together you always assured me you were heterosexual, but ‘story-free softcore’ is too charitable a term for that entire degrading - "

 

"Quiet, they're coming back. Also you haven't even seen the Insatiable Nexu run they did with - never mind. Boys!" Quinn hurried to the bridge. Pierce and Broonmark banged their way onto the ship and into the holo room, both carrying full cases of plant samples. "Drop it all off in the freezer, then have a seat. I have news."

 

Once they were settled on the reading-nook couch, she cleared her throat. Time for a very awkward talk. "Good work today."

 

Broonmark burbled. Pierce frowned. "Wait a minute. Just realized, if I'd placed those charges this morning on the pillar over, angled things just a bit, the whole mine would've collapsed much neater. Must be losing my touch."

 

"Pierce?"

 

"Listening, milord."

 

"Wait a minute, you blew up a mine this morning? I sent you out to pick flowers!"

 

"Job came up," muttered Pierce. "It was legitimate."

 

"I won't even ask. Something's come up, and I can't explain it and I can't kill it and neither can you, but it looks like, um, Captain Quinn's not half as dead as we all thought. Sit down, Pierce. He’s a ghost or something. No Force required. I don't understand it, either. Come on out, Quinn."

 

The captain took up his old station at her side.

 

Pierce grunted and lunged. Good, good, no blaster fire. The big man charged through the apparition at a sprint, hands outstretched to grab and shove his opponent. Instead Pierce stumbled and stopped just short of the far wall. He whirled, growling.

 

Quinn turned to face him, brushed imaginary dust off his sleeve, and sneered. "I see you still can't quite get your hands on the things you want." He looked to Nalenne and back to Pierce so fast she couldn't be sure anything had happened.

 

Still, the intent was obvious. "Quinn. Cut it out."

 

"I apologize, my lord," he said calmly.

 

"So our new job is going to be destroying him for good," she announced to the living.

 

"M-my lord?" said Quinn.

 

She ignored him. "This ghost thing isn't my area of expertise, but there must be something we can do."

 

Pierce rolled his shoulders. "Guess there's an upside to this after all. I was sorry to miss out on your first death, captain."

 

"You're sorry in many ways, lieutenant."

 

"Oh, you're gutsy when you know I can't hit you."

 

"Boys? Boys." Before she could think of anything else to say, a freaking torch came into her field of view, followed by Broonmark. The Talz - when had he moved? - jabbed the flaming brand - and where had he gotten a flaming brand!? - at Quinn, who looked annoyed but not at all hurt to be sharing space with it.

 

Broonmark stared at the apparition and the hissing flame that, despite burning exactly where Quinn's heart should be, didn't seem to distress him at all. "Plork," said the Talz. Nalenne knew that one: "Trouble."

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Thank you both! :) Judging by my last few brainstorming sessions, Nalenne will keep me busy for a while.

 

Part 4: In which Nalenne improves herself and Broonmark helps

 

A Talz’s insane killing spree

Caused his clan to eject him. So he

Dealt some payback extreme,

Then continued his dream

With a Sith who endorsed him, guilt-free.

 

 

Nalenne took her time massaging the anti-aging cream into her subtle Sith face ridges that evening. The glare of the vanity lights on her mirrored face was almost reassuring: here were her fine red-skinned features, corrupt yellow eyes, and of course ridges that were not going to start sagging before she turned forty, oh no. Everything was going to be just fine.

 

But as she often did when she was feeling troubled, she found herself heading to the cargo hold.

 

Broonmark was there as usual, using a special setup of motorized fine-tuning instruments to convert the motions of his huge hands to the fine work of reducing plant samples to useful compounds. He looked up when she entered. His upper left eye quivered in that way that meant he was pleased to see her.

 

She puffed her cheeks a couple of times and carefully gave herself the small Force-choke variants that would prep her vocal cords for inhuman sounds. "Brrr bloop bip?" It was supposed to be "More killing?" The idea was to ask about more Talz lessons, but every time she asked for a translation for 'Talz lessons' she was given 'killing."

 

Broonmark nodded. "Blip." He moved silently across the cargo bay to settle on the big couch in the corner - Nalenne liked to have couches available everywhere on the ship - then patted the cushion to get her to sit. She snuggled up close to his furry, somewhat acrid-smelling arm. He pulled the datapad he had personally modified for translation out, tried briefly to tap things with his enormous clawed fingers, then gave up and raised the datapad to his proboscis. The edges of it started a genuinely creepy wiggling motion that sufficed to navigate the datapad to the right subject.

 

Broonmark then handed the pad to Nalenne. "Today," she read, "Review 'murder,' learn 'massacre' and 'mayhem.' Murder. I've got this. Brrrrrp'kop?"

 

The datapad had realtime translation capability, but it didn't even deign to translate that. Broonmark spoke in Talz while she read the translation of his words: "That was 'clan breakfast dance.' Try again."

 

As the lesson progressed, they got to talking about life. They always did. A mishmash of burbling, speech, and datapad reading kept the conversation going.

 

"I just don't know how I'm going to get rid of him. You know? Dead people should stay dead."

 

The translator balanced on Broonmark’s leg glowed while he blipped. "Agreed. Maybe Sith clan kill traitor again?"

 

"If I could, I would."

 

“Is bad to leave enemy stuck. We will find killing. Until then we will kill other things.”

 

She patted his arm. "You always know just what to say."

 

A reassuring, nonverbal series of clicks. Then: “Now, try to say ‘mayhem’ again. Sith clan cannot distract us.”

Edited by bright_ephemera
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A few administrative notes: First, I haven’t forgotten Vette and Jaesa! The stage was already set to get crowded in the next few issues…so let’s leave them to their partying on Nar Shaddaa for now.

 

Second, today’s story has spoilers for a Sith Inquisitor plot ability known by the end of the Act 2 intro, and for the Sith Inquisitor’s endgame title.

 

Third, I’m still undecided on my posting schedule. Having written upwards of 20,000 words in the first four days of Nalenne’s conceptual existence, I’m leaning toward doing four posts per week, perhaps Sunday-Monday-Wednesday-Friday. I need to find a balance between spamming the forums and working up a billion-post backlog because my brain won’t stop producing.

 

But enough about me. Let’s talk about Nalenne and co…

 

Part 5: In which Nalenne seeks her sister’s advice and Quinn gets worried

 

A pirate on vengeance fixated

Met a Sith in the desert, and traded:

A t*t for a tat,

I find this, you kill that,

And from there, well, their romance was fated.

 

 

 

Nalenne knew she only had a faint chance at raising her sister on holo. Niselle had been impossible to reach ever since that Lord Zash had given her a ship.

 

She got Niselle's pirate, at least. Andronikos Revel gave her one of his sly smiles. "Wrath, good to see you.” He had a nice voice. It was eerily similar to a hundred voices she had heard before, but that rough edge never got less pleasant. “The Kessel offer's still up, if you've given it any thought. I know some guys. It'd be a good time."

 

"I do not need the likes of you setting me up with the likes of anybody. No offense. Is Niselle alive?"

 

"Yeah. What's up?"

 

"I need to meet with her in person. I have an academic question."

 

"Didn't know you'd turned scholarly."

 

"I don’t want to. That's why I'm asking her. Any chance we can meet up on Korriban, soon?"

 

"Yeah, sure, let me check with her on scheduling." He looked off to one side. "Uh, eight would-be assassins down, two to go. Shouldn't be more than half a minute."

 

"You answered the holo during someone’s attempt on your wife's life?"

 

"Eh, she insisted. She cares about family."

 

Quinn walked in out of nowhere and took up his old station by the holo controls, except a little to one side this time, so as to be off camera. Nalenne ignored him. A crackle and a distant, inhuman scream sounded through the speakers. Andronikos smiled tenderly and extended an arm to wrap around Niselle's waist as the Sith Pureblood moved into the holo image.

 

Niselle was Nalenne's twin, except meaner, uglier, sicklier, and generally a horrible brat. Her ascension to the Dark Council had only made her native arrogance worse. And she had taken up two truly stupid habits, namely, trying to remove Nalenne from the equation and trying to set Nalenne up with a suitable man. She didn’t appear to see a contradiction between the two. In between assaults, though: "Lenny," the newcomer cooed, "it's so good to see you!"

 

"Nis, you zapped right through the gift I sent you!"

 

She laughed, looking offscreen. "Cute, but those weren't yours. You're far too old-fashioned to send hirelings after me. Come now. What news from the S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier?"

 

Andronikos snickered. He did that every time anybody said the name of Nalenne's ship. Well, let him. "Listen, Nis, I had a question that's right up your alley. Suppose I had a spirit. And I needed to kill it."

 

Quinn stared pleadingly at her. She ignored him.

 

Niselle's bleach-pale eyes lit up. "You want me to eat it?"

 

"No! No! Do not do that! I want him just...I don't know, dead-er, or else put in a body where I can kill him properly, or something."

 

"It might be easier for me to eat him," said Niselle.

 

Quinn made a small desperate gesture and started trying to use the holo controls. His fingers passed right through the console.

 

"You wouldn't want to," said Nalenne. "He's not even a Force-user."

 

"Oh, yuck. I really wouldn’t, then. He would probably lessen my power just taking up space. And I can't imagine the sensation of all that worthlessness would be pleasant..."

 

Worthlessness? Nalenne’s compulsive need to disagree with her sister kicked in full-force. "Watch who you're badmouthing! He’s all kinds of useful. He's clever and strong-willed and brilliant and, and he's got personal power written all over him!"

 

A wide-eyed Quinn was frantically slashing his hand across his throat. Meanwhile in the holo image, Niselle was raising her hairless brow. "Now you're making me want to eat him again. Who is this morsel?"

 

"My ex-husband."

 

"Ha! You're joking."

 

"Hardly. He's haunting me - I mean, walking around whining, but incorporeal - and I really want to stop it."

 

"Oh, this is rich. Does your crew know?"

 

"Half of them do."

 

Niselle kissed the top of Andronikos' head and smiled her trademark sinister smile. "Lenny, I think it's time I came to visit."

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Administrative note: Sod the schedule, I need to post until production slows down.

6. In which the men of the house consult with Nalenne

 

A lieutenant in Taris's muck

Figured somehow he must get unstuck.

When a rampaging Sith

Gave a chance to come with,

He angled a transfer - what luck!

 

This entry contains spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor's endgame title.

 

 

"My lord, your sister will devour me the minute she steps onto the ship."

 

Nalenne folded her arms and fixed her husband's ghost with a cold stare. "I consider this an acceptable solution. Not optimal, since you would then be yammering at her for the rest of her life, but – wait. Wait, yes, then she’ll know what I had to live with. Eating you would be perfect!"

 

"Have you considered that simply letting me follow through on my original promises - to serve your interests, to aid you as I failed to do - might resolve my ghostly state?"

 

"Serve me? You'll, what, rattle your chains at the bad guys until they go away? That'll show 'em. Tomorrow Niselle is coming. And I'm bumping you off. Again."

 

"And what do I do until then, my lord?"

 

"Complain, I imagine. Here, have a seat. We need to talk house rules."

 

She pulled Pierce from his quarters and Broonmark from the cargo bay and sat them both down on the couch. She settled deep in her big cushy armchair. "So here's the thing. The captain here is going to, um, stay, until we figure out how to get rid of him. - Have you tried just leaving?"

 

"It doesn't work, my lord. Even if I step through the walls out to space, if I drift too far I get pulled back to the bridge."

 

"So he's stuck," she concluded.

 

Pierce snorted. "I like this. He'll be no more useless than he already was, and now he can't raid the freezer to finish off every ice cream carton I buy."

 

Nalenne glared at Quinn. "You told me that must've been Vette!"

 

Quinn shot a dirty look at Pierce. "I told you a great many things must have been Vette, my lord. I apologize."

 

"That's it. Time to lay down some rules.”

 

“I will submit to any terms you set, my lord,” Quinn said meekly.

 

“Pierce, Broonmark, I'm open to suggestions."

 

There was this thing the muscles in Quinn’s neck did when he realized he had catastrophically miscalculated. They did it just then, very hard.

 

“First things first,” said Pierce. “He doesn’t outrank me anymore.”

 

“Yes I do, lieutenant.”

 

“No you don’t, captain,” said Nalenne.

 

Quinn turned to her with an outraged look. “But you just called me…you haven’t forgotten how ranks work, my lord?”

 

“I fired you. I’m only addressing you by the title for old times’ sake.”

 

“I would’ve been promoted by now,” grumbled Pierce, “if everyone aboard hadn’t agreed that it would be cripplingly awkward to call me ‘captain.’”

 

Broonmark leaned over to hand Nalenne the datapad he had modified for translation, then burbled. "Rules: No hiding in walls," she read.

 

"No watchin' us or eavesdroppin’ from where we can't see him. Ever." said Pierce.

 

"Both reasonable. I'll add no reporting our activities to outside parties of any kind." She made a face at Quinn.

 

"I haven't done that in months, my lord,” he said with an air of wounded dignity.

 

Pierce cupped a hand behind his ear. "What's that, dead-boy? Can't hear you over the sound of how completely worthless your word is. Oh, also stay out of everyone’s quarters.”

 

“No trying to kill Sith clan,” added Broonmark.

 

“And no more blaming your own bad behavior on everybody else," said Pierce.

 

“Is that enforceable?” asked Nalenne.

 

"Simple. He says something bad about anybody ever, or claims random chance struck, hit him. He's probably lying to cover himself."

 

"But he's always said a lot of bad things about people."

 

"Well...yeah. You should've hit him then, too."

 

Nalenne looked to Broonmark for support. “Sith clan artillery speaks truth,” quorked the Talz.

 

“Hm. Hit him, you say.” Nalenne threw an experimental kick at Quinn. It passed right through him, of course, while he stood there looking all stern and annoyed. “Seems I missed my chance,” she said sadly.

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Part 7. In which ghost experts pay a visit (I/II)

 

This entry contains spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor's endgame title.

 

 

Consider this Dark Council seat:

To win it's a glorious feat.

But this chair, I fear,

Sees more butts in a year

Than an ashtray on Hutta's Main Street.

 

 

Nalenne touched down on Korriban just in time to hear Niselle’s incoming signal. She met her sister at the door. Her sister had two men in tow, Andronikos and…

 

"Who's this?" demanded Nalenne.

 

"Lord Draven, Wrath. It's an honor." The human youth made an extravagant bow. Killer baritone voice. It seemed that Niselle was out of the "distract Lenny with something different" phase and back to “play to Lenny’s taste”: Draven was tall, slender, dark-haired, very neat. Unlike Quinn, the newcomer had stylish dark robes and awfully nice brown eyes.

 

"What is he doing here?" Nalenne asked Andronikos.

 

"We thought he might, uh," said the pirate, looking to his wife.

 

"Lord Draven is an expert in localized hauntings," said Niselle smoothly. "And he's single."

 

Nalenne placed a hand on her lightsaber's hilt. "How nice. Draven, how did you dispose of the last 'localized haunting' you had to deal with?" Cue the stammering from another random handsome guy they probably kidnapped off the street on the way here.

 

“A combination of research and Force rituals on the haunting site identified the malevolent force, at which point I summoned the ancient Sith by name, we fought a bit, had a long talk about who he was and why he was killing everyone who stepped over the threshold, and ultimately he agreed to stick around the dwelling and protect it on the current owner’s behalf, as an alternative to me annihilating him.”

 

Niselle gave her twin a "Ha-ha, weren't expecting that, were you?" look.

 

“Hmph. Fine. Come in.”

 

Pierce nodded to Nalenne and her guests on his way out the door. He had perimeter duty. Niselle had a habit of bringing in apprentices as surprise backup during her attacks.

 

Nalenne led her visitors into the holo room and yelled. “Quinn?”

 

Obligingly, Quinn strode through the wall from the direction of the bridge. Nalenne watched her sister's eyes: surprise, amusement, curiosity, excitement, calculation, hunger.

 

Quinn was right. Nis is going to devour him on the spot.

 

Since nobody was talking, Nalenne stepped in. “So. Everyone. This is my ex-husband Quinn. He’s supposed to be dead, but he’s bad at it. Quinn, you know my sister Darth Niselle of the Dark Council, her husband Andronikos, and this is one Lord Draven, who I’m hoping will know how to exorcise you.”

 

Draven eyed Quinn up and down. “That’s your haunting?” he said uncertainly.

 

“In the fle- um, in the…yes.”

 

“But there’s no Force presence whatsoever. He may as well be empty air.” Draven leaned forward to pass a hand through Quinn’s face. “Is this a trick? A hologram?” Quinn scowled at him.

 

"If I were to pick out a hologram roommate, it wouldn’t be him," said Nalenne. Quinn scowled at her.

 

"I feel nothing. What have you done?" said Draven.

 

"Killed him, months ago, half a galaxy away."

 

"That doesn't explain this. There’s nothing here but...what you see. This is impossible."

 

“I’m sorry to hear you say that, my lord,” said Quinn. Draven started, but didn’t say anything in reply.

 

“Don’t tell me,” drawled Niselle, “that your keen senses can’t distinguish anything? I was told you were the best.”

 

Draven’s upper lip twitched. “And I was told there was something more than some projection trick.”

 

Niselle, harpy that she was, pressed on. “Really? Nothing? Your expertise yields ‘there’s obviously no ghost here apart from the one standing there watching us’?”

 

“I could sense a true spiritual presence a hundred meters away,” he snapped. “I don't know what you're playing at, but that's not a ghost - " he pointed to Quinn while glaring at Nalenne - "and she's one wedding ring up from ‘single’!" - he pointed to Nalenne while glaring at Niselle. "There's nothing for me to do here!" The handsome Sith Lord stormed out.

 

Nalenne stared after him, mouth hanging open.

 

"Honestly," said Niselle, "do you have to keep wearing that stupid ring?"

 

"Shut up, Nis."

 

"Get a life, Lenny. You know, I am just about done with you. Come on, Andronikos, showtime."

 

And that could only mean one thing. Niselle had circled around to Nalenne's back; Andronikos was still standing in front of her. He drew his blasters and shrugged. "Sorry."

 

Nalenne slapped his weapons from his hands with one hard Force wave. "It's okay. I appreciate you looking out for her, you know?"

 

"Yeah." And just then a sparking force stung her back and froze her in place. Fast as thought, Andronikos grabbed a small sharp object from his belt and whipped it toward her eyes.

 

to be continued

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:eek: That's a horrible moment for a break... Pretty cruel to make me (and others) wait for the next part^^

 

Ah, well, see, Andronikos kills Nalenne in the first sentence of the next post. After that the whole series is about Niselle taking all of Nalenne's stuff and laughing. :jawa_angel:

 

(...that was a lie. Though it would be interesting to see a series in which a Sith Inquisitor devours a powerful representative of each of the other three Force classes and has to run around listening to the contradictory knowledge and opinions of three other very vocal player characters...)

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8. In which betrayal surprises no one, but something else surprises several (II/II)

 

"BROONMARK!" Nalenne screamed. She would have dodged the incoming projectile, but she couldn’t move for the crackling energy grip on her back. Niselle. Lightning-thingy. Damn. She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed what muscles she could control to move aside the second Niselle's stun broke.

 

Which it did, almost before that thought could finish. You’re losing your touch, sister. Nalenne lurched to one side. Andronikos' blade stung her temple and fell away. Nalenne drew her saber and flowed into an attack. The pirate was fast, but he was disarmed and she was angry. One solid hilt blow to the head took him out of the fight.

 

The next strike of Niselle's lightning was less arresting. The twerp only had so many tricks. Nalenne activated her saber and shoved the blade into the flashing Force arc, pushing towards her sister.

 

Broonmark finally saw fit to show up. Even at a sprint he was close to silent. Niselle actually yelped when his fist took her neck.

 

"Don't kill," warned Nalenne, and hurried to shove Niselle to the ground and kick her in the head. "Let's be nice about this." She kicked her sister again. "You realize, Nis, I still have no interest in harming you."

 

Nis managed to look arrogant while lying flat on her back with a fresh head injury. "You might not have had before I started trying to kill you, but now you've got self-defense to claim. Everyone knows what you did to Baras."

 

"Baras wasn't my sister!"

 

"Good thing, too. If you managed to look that bad with my genes I shudder to think how being related to him would've worked out for you."

 

"The girl who bleached and blackened her way from red skin to Rattataki impression in a single Dark Side binge wants to tell me I’m ugly? I could kill you right now. Brat."

 

"You won't. Sissy."

 

"I could kill your stupid pirate."

 

"You wouldn't."

 

"Worried that time, eh?" Nalenne chuckled maliciously. "So what stopped you from holding me in place while your man put a needle in my eye?"

 

"I was interrupted. Your man punched me in the face.” Niselle jerked her head towards Quinn.

 

Nalenne goggled. “Get out. Really?”

 

Quinn himself was standing by the wall, watching the two of them. "My lord. You know I cannot physically affect anything, but I surmised that reflex may not distinguish between solid objects and solid-looking objects coming at the eyes. I was able to break her concentration long enough for you to escape.” He looked down to where the pale lord of the Dark Council was sulking on the floor. “Please understand, my lord, I hold the utmost respect for your position. But my duty lies with the Wrath.”

 

“Stow it,” snapped Niselle.

 

“Quinn, you’re a genius. Only you would say ‘I have no body, Force powers, or tech, guess I’d better go turn the tide of battle anyway.’ I love how you- ” Nalenne checked herself. “I’m still mad at you. Just…wow. You hit my sister.” Her delight bubbled into laughter.

 

Niselle was checking her chronometer. “It looks like my combat support isn’t coming,” she said in a tone of supreme irritation, “so I’m done for the day.”

 

“Combat support. More apprentices? Pierce probably took care of ‘em.”

 

Niselle struggled to her feet. “He probably did,” she said sourly. “You should teach your pets to respect Sith.”

 

“You should teach your Sith to be even vaguely worthy of respect. My captain punched you in the face.” Nalenne started giggling again.

 

Niselle slung Andronikos’ arm over her shoulder, gave Nalenne one last dirty look, and left.

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9. In which Vette and Jaesa get home

 

A Twi’lek of devious mind

Can do well, for a slave of her kind.

A bribe and a nudge

May help even a drudge

If it makes her lord kindly inclined.

 

 

Vette clattered up the gangplank and into the holo room with shopping bags lining both arms and several bright scarves wrapped around her lekku. “NALENNE. You would not believe what I got.”

 

“I’ll see whatever you’re carrying and raise you a bigger surprise. You first.”

 

Vette tittered – she actually tittered – as she disentangled herself from her bags, spreading them out on the holo room floor. Jaesa struggled into the room with another load, most of which was probably also Vette’s. The Twi’lek knelt over one shabby plastifiber bag and pulled out a brown paper package. “I was chatting up this guy at the festival, right, and we started with some fascinating common ground about whiskey opinions, so we talked some more, and he had this incredibly cute brother….”

 

Jaesa interrupted. “What Vette means to say is, the boy’s brother was trying to sell some things to get the money to go offworld, and…”

 

“And he had. I kid you not. I had it checked and everything. Two out of the three issues from the o-ri-gin-al print run of Dark Son.”

 

“No. Eighty percent of all its hard copies were destroyed in the Sacking of Coruscant.” The reimagining of Ultraguy as a stalwart Imperial was an artistic tour de force that had been wildly popular at publication, back in the previous war…until the Republic cut off exports of the “subversive” story, launched one of its only successful SIS missions ever to destroy stray hard copies in Imperial space, and rounded up most of the print run back on Coruscant for “safekeeping.” Barbarians.

 

Vette handed her the package. “Read ‘em and weep. Or cheer, or whatever.”

 

With the swift trembling care of a collector Nalenne opened the package. There was the cover she had seen pictures of, and as she took stock of the two paperbacks she noted that they were both near mint. Beautiful. This was history made tangible, art made satisfyingly real. No holoscan distortions, no nothing, and she was the first of her friends to get her hands on one. “Vette, you’re amazing. Thank you. Thank you. I swear if I ever find the remote control for your collar I’ll take it right off you.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” beamed Vette. “I charged his asking price plus his bar tab and the entire cost of our vacation to your account. So you said you had a surprise?”

 

“Oh. Yeah. My dead husband’s back, ghost or something, he’s hanging out on the bridge. Would you look at this, Darth Marr is going to flip his lid when he finds out about these….”

 

What?” said Jaesa.

 

“Are you still here? Shoo,” said Nalenne.

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10. In which Jaesa gets a word in edgewise

 

A padawan, Jaesa by name,

Sought a virtuous master to claim.

But what snagged her instead

Was a wacked-in-the-head

Once-Light Sith going bad without shame.

 

 

Quinn walked in from the bridge before Vette and Jaesa could go to investigate.

 

“Huh. Cool trick,” said Vette.

 

Jaesa smiled a terribly sweet puppyish smile. “Captain Quinn, but…how?”

 

“That is still uncertain, Jaesa. All we know is that I am here, I am limited to staying near the ship, and apart from the ability to speak I am entirely unable to interact with the physical world.”

 

“Look at this,” said Nalenne. “Look at this. Perfect. He must’ve had it in shrink plastiform.”

 

“Could be worse,” said Vette. “You could be stuck with only being able to knock people’s hats off, or only being able to feel your nose but not scratch it.”

 

“Yes, thank you for that insight,” Quinn said flatly.

 

“Happy to help.” Vette started gathering her shopping bags to bring them to her quarters. “Have fun now.”

 

“Why did it happen?” said Jaesa. “Were you some kind of latent Force user, or was there some ritual laid on you, or….”

 

Nalenne squealed. “And they have the tear-out dataslips for ordering other series! I’d forgotten Coruscant Comics still does that! Crazy Republic….”

 

“I’m glad you’re back,” said Jaesa. “But I hope it’s not unpleasant for you.”

 

“I trust we’ll find a solution soon.”

 

“I’ve never even heard of something this…this amazing. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

 

“There’s no need for concern, Jaesa.”

 

“I am trying to be compassionate here.”

 

“Has that ever had the slightest effect on me?”

 

“I’m having these framed,” said Nalenne. “They’ll go up in my room. This is gorgeous.”

 

“I’m just…this is astonishing.” Jaesa paused, radiating gentle concern. Quinn stoicked*. Jaesa sighed. “I’ll just go to my quarters, then. And meditate on the mysteries of the Force.”

 

“Yes, please do.”

 

Nalenne hugged the paperbacks to her chest and yelled down the hallway. “I’ll find your collar remote, Vette. I will. And set you free. Wow. Thank you so much.”

 

Vette leaned out from her quarters. “If you really want to thank me, re-dump the boyfriend.”

 

Nalenne started. “Hey. He is not my boyfriend.”

 

Jaesa looked stricken. “He’s not?”

 

Nalenne rolled her eyes. “You noticed the homicide, right, Jaesa?”

 

“But…he’s back. It’s going to be okay.”

 

“It’ll be okay because as soon as we figure out how to get rid of him, he’s gone.”

 

“Good call,” yelled Vette.

 

“But master, that’s terrible,” said Jaesa. “I know how much you mis-“

 

“Jaesa, you are ruining the moment. I just got the collector’s catch of a lifetime, and all you want to talk about is - is irrelevant, that’s what it is. Quinn bad. We can talk about that later, okay? Go meditate or something.”

 

Jaesa looked uncertainly at Quinn. Quinn held her gaze and tilted his head back in Nalenne’s direction with a “Listen to her” expression. The Jedi sighed and went to her room.

 

“Where have you been all my life, beautiful,” sang Nalenne softly as she sashayed off to her own quarters, holding the Dark Son close. Quinn watched her go with a very odd look on his face. Eventually he shook himself out of thought and returned to the bridge.

 

 

*Stoic (v) (past tense stoicked): To stand stoically. And refuse to respond in a normal human manner to anything. See also “being Malavai Quinn.” (etymology: this is not a real verb)

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*Stoic (v) (past tense stoicked): To stand stoically. And refuse to respond in a normal human manner to anything. See also “being Malavai Quinn.” (etymology: this is not a real verb)

 

 

ROFL!!! I honestly laughed out loud at that one.

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11. In which Nalenne tests Quinn’s limits

 

A rare Alderaanian flower

Pops and closes in less than an hour.

The fact that santaal

Reproduces at all

Is a proof of life's limitless power.

 

 

"Quinn. With me."

 

The Helicarrier had left the major war zones for the time being and was presently settled in a remote alpine meadow on Alderaan. The crew was doing nothing in particular, except for Broonmark, who was out nerf-hunting with his bare claws.

 

Ghost-Quinn, who had spent the last several days being ignored by everyone on board, hurried to fall in step while Nalenne debarked and set out through the tall grasses. A cool breeze blew down from the nearest snowy mountain peak. The sun rode high in the cloudless azure sky, its brilliance reflected by a thousand alpine flowers. The riot of blossoms and delicate curling vines formed, with the accidental elegance of the wild, an exquisite arabesque roadblock. Nalenne drew her saber and started cutting a path.

 

"If I may ask, my lord," said Quinn, slowing his steps to match the person who actually had to interact with matter, "what are we doing?"

 

"Determining whether you're tethered to the ship or to me. What did you do between waking up and showing yourself, anyway? You said you were aware while Baras was alive."

 

"Yes. The immediate...urges...were to defend you and kill you, so I thought it prudent to stay just outside the ship's hull until one of these requirements resolved."

 

"That was considerate."

 

"I was not eager to repeat an assassination attempt just then."

 

“You’ve still got a noticeable post-Baras gap to account for.”

 

“I was trying to be dead. I was unsuccessful.”

 

“Failure after failure. You’re really on a roll.” On a whim she stopped hacking at the vegetation and turned to hack at Quinn instead. The saber passed through him, of course, which struck her as terribly funny. Quinn stood patiently while she ran through a wild series of slashes and jabs. Eventually she got bored and pressed on, continuing her straight line away from the ship.

 

"I have a thought," she said. "Suppose, just for a moment, that I don't want to destroy you. Or that I can't. I need to figure out a use for you. What have you been up to ‘til now, anyway?"

 

"I can't use a console, so I have been practicing other things. If I concentrate very hard while I'm standing in your comic books I can pick out one page at a time to read."

 

"See? Scarlet Nexu came in handy."

 

"My lord! I was in the cargo hold with Captain Kaas most of the time. Broonmark can corroborate."

 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're allowed to enjoy a little over-the-top fan service."

 

"There's nothing to enjoy in that tripe. The physical improbability alone...you realize that with a bust like that she would break her own nose just on the upbounce during those gymnastics."

 

"So you did look at some!"

 

"Broonmark drove me out of the cargo hold and back to my quarters - and your Nexu collection. He threatened to...do things...if I didn't get out of his fur."

 

"'Do things'?"

 

"I don't want to talk about it, my lord."

 

"I could just drop some Captain Kaas in your quarters."

 

"It would be appreciated.”

 

"Anyway. I can't use you in combat except as a distraction, but you can still do your analysis and planning thing, right?"

 

"Given the relevant information, certainly."

 

"I'll assign 2V as your aide."

 

"Must you?"

 

"The alternative is solitary confinement with my comic books."

 

"2V will suffice, my lord."

 

"He'll handle consoles and things for you. But he won’t help you act against me. You have to behave this time.”

 

“I will. You have my complete allegiance.”

 

“Hmph. Heard that one before.”

 

“My lord, I still assume that I’m here because of an unpaid obligation. I can only fulfill that by serving you, as I promised to.”

 

“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically.

 

“If I pay off my debt, I’m hoping for an easy release.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Especially if the alternative is getting killed by you again. The first such experience was extraordinarily unpleasant. You weren’t gentle about it.”

 

“Yeah, well. I was upset.”

 

There was a long, awkward silence.

 

In time Quinn slowed and stopped, looking everywhere but at Nalenne. "I've never gotten this far from the ship without snapping back."

 

“Okay, so you can anchor on me or the ship. That gives a bit of flexibility – hey, can you teleport back at will?”

 

“No.”

 

That answer came too quickly. “Have you tried?”

 

Quinn’s gaze flicked left and right in that way he had when he thought she was being unreasonable. “I, er, yes. Yes, I’m trying just now. It seems I am unsuccessful, my lord.”

 

Nalenne helpfully brought out her saber and jabbed through his torso.

 

“Is that supposed to help, my lord?”

 

“If you’re trying to be elsewhere? It might. Universal principle of nature: things try to avoid lightsabers. You’re failing. Again.”

 

“I’m beginning to suspect you just enjoy stabbing me.”

 

“Oh, tell me I’m unjustified there, droid-boy. I dare you.” She deactivated and sheathed her saber. “Come on, let’s go home.”

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12. In which Vette and the crew check the couch cushions

 

A collar, for Imps, can suffice

To show social status precise.

From an officer’s black

To a Sith’s weird hoop rack

To a slave’s cold controlling device.

 

 

“Hey. My lord. Wakeup time.”

 

Nalenne lay flat on her back and cursed her sudden alertness. Then she cursed Vette. “Are you joking?”

 

“Nope. It’s couch-tossing day.”

 

“It was couch-tossing day last week. We’re not up for another three.”

 

“Really?” said Vette. “I’m bad with time. Guess we should do an out-of-cycle one, since you’re already awake.”

 

“If your slave collar remote were in the furniture, we’d have found it by now.”

 

Vette jumped onto the foot of Nalenne’s bed. “Go.”

 

Nalenne sat up fast, pillow in hand, to hit the Twi’lek’s shoulder. “Fine.”

 

They started in the cargo bay. They always did. Jaesa and Broonmark started in the crew quarters. Pierce ran secondary checks/cleanup. Every box, every case, every databank with a loose chassis, every seat cushion, every couch frame: opened, turned, searched.

 

“What would you do if you were free, anyway?” asked Nalenne as the two of them fished around in the depths of the reading-nook couch.

 

“Leave forever,” chirped Vette cheerfully. “See what the old gang on Nar Shaddaa is up to.”

 

“But you visit them every few weeks anyway.”

 

“The collar kinda dampens the fun. It gets old, having everyone who sees this slave-without-a-master checking my collar registry and calling you to inform you I’ve ‘escaped.’”

 

Nalenne moved on to the first of three armchairs. “I feel I should remind you that the slave collar wasn’t my idea.”

 

“Seems like keeping track of your stuff wasn’t an idea of yours, either.”

 

“Hmph. Anyway, I’m struggling to envision you holding down a job as a free woman.”

 

“I have skills. I can sneak, rob, kill. Act as secretary and reality buffer to disorganized overgrown children.”

 

“I would miss you.”

 

“I could go a whole week without being party to any deranged killing sprees. No more up-close views of Force chokings or wild abuse of authority or that cringeworthy evil laugh.”

 

“’Cringeworthy’?”

 

“Yeah. The cackle’s kind of awful.”

 

“She’s right, milord,” said Pierce from across the room.

 

Nalenne sniffed. “Well then, maybe you really would be happier elsewhere, Miss Judgy.”

 

“Hey,” called Jaesa from where she knelt by the holoprojector. “No remote, but I think I’ve got a new contender for record-size dust bunny.”

 

Pierce whistled at the sight of the dust-fur-hair monstrosity Jaesa held aloft. “Nice. That’ll definitely make top three in the hall of fame.”

 

“I’m glad there’s an upside to my suffering,” sighed Vette.

 

“Hey,” said Nalenne, “don’t be like that. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy back one of your Twi’lek artifacts from whatever thieving conqueror has it so your friends can do their cultural thing with it, okay? Plus one shopping spree for you. And you don’t have to come with me on my next enforcement run.”

 

Vette smiled graciously, not to say triumphantly. “Suffering slightly lessened. For now.”

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Before we start, the dust-bunny competition inspired images of what I imagine was a much earlier couch-tossing day, in which, say, Pierce got a good dust bunny contender while searching for Vette’s remote. (The top five dust bunnies, by the way, are displayed in a case in the cargo hold.)

 

And so Pierce walked into the holo room cradling the mass of hair and dust. “Take a look at this. Believe I’m taking first place with this one.”

 

Broonmark looked over from where he had been picking through a crate of stuff. The Talz stretched and then ran his claws over his back, around his shoulders, and down his arms, mashing the two resulting masses together into one furball that dwarfed Pierce’s item. “Bllolorp.”

 

Nalenne giggled. “You know that doesn’t qualify, Broonmark.”

 

The Talz growled. The low menacing sound needed no translation. Then: “Sith clan unfairly excludes us from the great hunt.”

 

 

13. In which the crew discusses life after death and also pop music (I/II)

 

The Nexus Cantina’s a place

That can mix every species and race.

Though conservatives may

View the place with dismay,

It’s a scene some are glad to embrace.

 

 

"I never believed in an afterlife," said Quinn to nobody in particular.

 

Pierce looked up from his supper and snorted. "Neither did I. But I'm faster to question the great beyond than I am to question milord's word when she says she offed you, so, there you have it."

 

"It is known that the hunting grounds beyond the white veil are endless and beautiful, with eternal glorious battle, but no Talz has ever returned to give us word. The clan passes through the veil but once, and so we must trust that the words of our ancestors are true to the mystery, and face it ourselves without fear. If Sith clan's dumbest one has returned, surely the veil itself has rejected him and denied him the killing frenzy that true warriors are granted," said Broonmark.

 

"Anybody catch that?" said Vette.

 

Nalenne shook her head. "I got hunting, death, battle, death, death, terror, my weak stupid prey, death, killing, battle. I'm missing a bunch of stuff in between."

 

"Sith clan makes progress in understanding," buzzed Broonmark affectionately.

 

"Aw," said Nalenne, who had learned to recognize his few encouraging statements long ago.

 

Vette looked dubiously at the Talz. "He's pretty focused with the vocab lessons, huh?"

 

Nalenne shrugged. "We talk about what we have in common."

 

Jaesa leaned forward. "I’ve been doing some reading, but I simply can't find documentation of after-death appearances from non-Force users except in the case of catastrophically huge Force disturbances."

 

"I didn't Force choke him that hard."

 

Quinn frowned and opened his mouth, but closed it again without saying anything.

 

"I would hope not, master. I'll keep looking, but it's very hard to find a starting point for an investigation."

 

Nalenne scarfed down the last of her meal. "Good to know. Let's do some talking about not-Quinn. Anything good on the concert circuit back on Dromund Kaas? Vette?"

 

"You told me - let me recall your exact phrasing - 'Tubby Stripes and the Yowlcats' isn't acceptable, even though the Cath Attack – which is what they’re actually called – their music is fine - "

 

"They sound like mankas in heat."

 

"Every pop act rimward of Taris does that nowadays."

 

"Every pop act rimward of Taris is stupid and wrong. Next suggestion?"

 

"Green Nebula's up at the Nexus Room in a couple of days."

 

"Green Nebula. That mixed-species band with the Nautolan frontman?"

 

"The one you think is totally hot? Yeah."

 

"I do not think Leb Gesheel is hot."

 

"You remembered his name? I thought you ‘just happened to overhear’ one ‘tolerably okay’ song of theirs once."

 

"That doesn't change the fact that I never said he's hot."

 

"You were thinking it. You're thinking it right now. And last time we walked by a shop that was playing that single with his big vocal solo, your eyes practically rolled back in your head."

 

Quinn frowned and opened his mouth, but closed it again without saying anything.

 

"I'm sensing we should buy tickets," rumbled Pierce. He was grinning. Evilly.

 

"What," snapped Nalenne, "one for watching the band and then two for watching me?"

 

"Three," blipped Broonmark.

 

"Shut up," said Nalenne.

 

"I think it's healthy," said Jaesa. "You know you haven't really...since...I mean..."

 

Vette threw up her hands. "What she means is, you haven't kept more than two seconds’ eye contact with a man you weren’t killing ever since Quinn over here kicked it. - And, Quinny, let’s not kid ourselves, you're off the market now.”

 

Quinn struggled to remain expressionless. “Did you just call me ‘Quinny’?”

 

“Yup. You gonna stop me?”

 

“My lord….”

 

Nalenne felt a small rush of malicious glee. “You’re on your own now, captain.”

 

Quinn frowned and opened his mouth, but closed it again without saying anything.

 

Vette pressed on. “Come on, Nalenne. With your name to throw around I can snag us front-row seats for all the eye contact you can handle. Ooh, and maybe backstage passes..."

 

"I don't want to see Green Nebula."

 

"Shoulda thought of that earlier."

 

Nalenne fled.

 

Broonmark watched her go, his four eyes winking in a thoughtful pattern. "Sad. Sith clan’s dumbest does not want to move from clan chief’s favored side. Clan chief does not want to move on from clan’s dumbest. But time and battle move on. Always they move on. We would gladly kill a thousand thousand creatures if it could help."

 

"Huh?" said Vette.

 

Broonmark shrugged. "Brrrrlb."

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Double post tonight!

 

14. In which Jaesa observes the crew (II/II)

 

There’s risk in a Sith Lord, er, ride;

Faint of heart? You should leave it untried.

When planning protection

Don’t fear the infection –

Fear who’s going to wake at your side.

 

One AM. Jaesa woke up to hear Pierce and Broonmark returning to the ship, chattering and laughing. Pierce, she noted, had an impressive bass singing voice.

 

Three AM. Jaesa woke up to hear an individual banging onto the ship and bumping from wall to wall on the way to Nalenne's room. Meanwhile, Pierce still had a great singing voice.

 

Six AM. Jaesa woke up to hear Vette knock something over in the holo room, but otherwise stealthily sneak back to her quarters.

 

Nine AM. Jaesa got up for breakfast. Vette was already in the mess, nursing something that appeared to involve both citrus fruit and Tarisian bloodglobes. And salt. And a weedy-looking garnish Jaesa couldn't even identify.

 

"Morning," said Vette. She was halfway bright-eyed despite the sleep and booze and whatever else of the night before.

 

"Enjoy yourself?" said Jaesa.

 

"The plan backfired." Vette smiled dreamily. "Leb reeeeaallly liked me, though."

 

"You actually...?"

 

"Oh, yeah. Heh. The backstage chat went great. Couldn't really get him stuck on Nalenne, but the drummer stepped up to the task."

 

"You took the guy Nalenne's into and left her with the drummer?"

 

"I don't think she could tell the difference at that point. We were both pretty drunk."

 

Pierce padded into the mess. "Morning. The Wrath's cryin' again. You can hear it from the holo room."

 

Vette looked suddenly guilty. "Wait, you think she did notice?"

 

Pierce folded his arms across his chest. "She going to keep doing this every time she gets laid? Seems to defeat the point, if you ask me."

 

"She's making progress. There was actual eye contact this time," said Vette. "Small steps.”

 

Jaesa stood up. "Maybe I should...."

 

"Sit. Down." said Vette. "We give her some time, we get her some ice cream, we find a hotter guy to try again with later."

 

"Ice cream I can get," said Pierce, heading toward the door.

 

"You rock," said Vette.

 

"Anything for the boss," said Pierce.

 

At some point Broonmark had come to listen outside the mess door. The Talz moved aside to let Pierce through, then blipped something and turned to go himself.

 

"Hold," said Vette. "If that was 'I'm going to kill the drummer,' don't."

 

Broonmark slumped and gurgled sullenly.

 

"He didn’t do anything wrong. She’ll be fine," said Vette.

 

Quinn sidled into the room. "Vette, Jaesa, I have not been breaking the no-eavesdropping policy, but…you can hear the Wrath sobbing from here. What happened?"

 

"The interesting people went out to that concert we mentioned," said Vette. "A good time, fun was had by all, especially what's-his-name the Nebula drummer and our good friend the Wrath, now she's doing her traditional morning-after thing."

 

"She never had hysterical morning-after breakdowns with...that is, I don't see how you can call it 'traditional.'"

 

"Funny you should say that. Before she met you she was fine. A crazed evil Sith, but a happy one. And with you I never had to step in. But since then? She is a wreck, and a boring one at that.” Vette’s pale blue eyes caught fire. “I've known her longer than you have, captain, and now that you're back I can safely say that you are the worst thing that ever happened to her. Twice. So you will just stay out of sight today. And possibly tomorrow, too."

 

"I don’t take orders from you,” he said stiffly.

 

Vette glared up at him. "Name one way you could possibly improve Nalenne's love life right now."

 

Quinn hesitated. "I...could stay out of her sight today," he said slowly. "And possibly tomorrow, too."

 

"That's what I thought."

 

Jaesa watched him retreat. "You're good at this," she told Vette.

 

"I know. Nalenne’s an arrogant shallow psychopath, but I like to make sure she’s all right. She grows on you, you know?"

 

"I know. And it's better when we're looking out for each other."

 

"Well. Traffic control accomplished. Make sure Broonmark doesn’t sneak off the ship, okay? I’m going back to sleep.”

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Bright, as long as you want to keep writing these, I'll keep reading. Quinny - too funny! And although I've heard nothing but bad things about Broonmark when I actually level my baby sw I'm probably going to have your version in mind when I get him and it'll all be good lol.
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