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Chapter Text

The corporal (his name didn't matter, Jellins or something) scampered out of the room the moment Quinn was done threatening him. Watching the man trip over himself in a desperate attempt to be out from under foot, hopefully somewhere actually useful, meant Quinn was facing towards the door when she walked in.

Lord Fallon Noicrothatch. A missive from Darth Baras had arrived a day before her. She was his latest… acquisition. The spoils of a power struggle in Baras's favor. She was, apparently, extremely valuable and extremely dangerous, a resource to be tapped, but Darth Baras also wanted her watched.

Watching her wasn't going to be a problem. She was striking. Having to guess, Quinn would pit her in her early-to-mid thirties, though it could be hard to gauge that with pureblood sith. She carried herself with confidence but not the swagger he'd come to expect.

Particularly from the new enforcer.

What research he'd been able to do traced her origins to Dromund Kaas, though not Kaas city itself. Her mother and father were both Lords in their own right, though the family power seemed to be more financial than political.

But that was all.

She moved like highborn aristocracy, emanating a sense of easy control and understated power

Walking alongside her, head held high and looking around to take in the scenery, was a a twi'lek slave. Though, curiously, without a collar.

He made a mental note that Lord Noicrothatch must be applying a subtler control in case it became relevant later.

Lord Noicrothatch and her slave stopped a short ways from him and he was forced to realize how tall the woman was. At six foot, Quinn wasn't a short man, but the sith was a good couple inches taller with her black hair styled out of her face. From the angle he couldn't help but notice how vivid her eyes were, brighter than the gold jewelry around them.

"My Lord." He bowed his head respectfully and straightened when, with an elegant twist of her wrist, Lord Noicrothatch granted permission. "I apologize for the delay. Lieutenant Malavai Quinn. I'm to be your liaison here on Balmorra."

"Well met, Lieutenant," she said. "This is my traveling companion, Vette." She indicated the twi'lek beside her who offered a—frankly inappropriately cheeky—wave.

He offered a curt nod in response. Was she not a slave then? It would explain why she didn't behave as one, which is to say respectfully and somewhat afraid.

Darth Baras had said slave though.

"Lord Baras will brief you personally, but I'm to acquaint you with the climate here on Balmorra first."

She nodded. Her yellow eyes were bright and boring into him, little yellow suns. "Proceed."

"Even though the Empire wrestled control of Balmorra from the Republic during the war, we were never able to completely eradicate them. There is a rather sizable resistance movement. No one wants to admit it, but it's clear the Republic is backing it."

"Well that fits with what you were saying," the twi'lek—Vette—said. Her weight rested on one leg and her arms were folded over her chest.

"It does, Woyonuks, but we'd be remiss not to utilize the Lieutenant's knowledge." Lord Noicrothatch looked at her companion and then back to him, her tone conversational. "Is anything being done to handle the Republic, Lieutenant?"

"Something tells me your presence here will leave an indelible impression on the state of things. And I look forward to it."

The small chuckle Lord Noicrothatch offered was small but as warm and dark as the caf that so often kept him upright.

"I have a secure line to Lord Baras. I'll patch him through immediately." Quinn turned and opened the channel, turning back to the Sith Lord as Lord Baras flickered into sight.

"Ah," Lord Baras said in a congenial voice. "I see you've convened with my asset. Very good, Lieutenant. Leave us."

Quinn gave a shallow bow, turning to leave.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Lord Noicrothatch said as he passed her.

Quinn was used to being thanked as an afterthought. His contributions expected and only ever commented on when he went above and beyond. And while he often went above and beyond, the difference was still notable.

At his console, he resumed tracking the Jedi Agent Baras had mentioned in his earlier missive. Lord Noicrothatch's presence was almost certainly related, but he hadn't asked. Asking wouldn't have yielded anything, he was a tool and he was stuck on Balmorra until he proved himself a useful enough tool.

It had been ten years at this point, and Quinn wasn't sure he'd ever hated a place as much as he hated Balmorra. A light on the console flashed, indicating that Lord Baras wanted him back in the room. He grabbed the explosive charge and rejoined the Sith with a short, deferential nod towards Lord Baras as the call ended.

"My lord."

Lord Noicrothatch turned to face him and indicated for him to continue with an elegant and minute twist of her wrist.

"I've prepared what you need for your assault on the satellite control tower." He extended the charge and the twi'lek took it. "In order to destroy the mainframe, you'll mount this charge to the base and activate it. Then contact me and I'll be able to detonate."

"Thank you," her lordship said again. "We'll be back shortly."

He remained at attention until she'd left the room and then slowly let his shoulders relax. Dealing with the Sith was always something of a gamble and everyone in the Imperial military knew it. In-fighting moved platoons around, sudden deaths affected the chain of command in strange and fascinating ways. There were powerful Sith and there were Sith who were only so powerful.

Quinn turned back to his console and resumed trying to pinpoint the location of the Jedi agent. The trip from Sobrik to Sunstock—taking the designated taxi—was about two hours, add to that an hour for handling the mainframe and then two hours back, half-an-hour to an hour for dinner depending on Her Lordship's tastes and preferences and it was looking to be a long night.

Which was fine. He only needed a few hours sleep to remain in good form and seeing to Lord Baras's—and thus Lord Noicrothatch's—needs was of higher import.

The call came a full ten minutes before he had expected. Darth Baras had forwarded further instructions about a republic ensign he wanted Lord Noicrothatch to deal with and the quickness with which she'd responded about the communications tower had given him very little time to track down what he needed.

Quinn very quickly wiped the surprise off his face as he inclined his head to Lord Noicrothatch. To his surprise, despite the accelerated timeline, she looked like she hadn't done anything more rigourous than a stroll. Her hair and make-up remained precisely where they had. "My lord, I mark your progress, and see that the charge is armed. I will detonate once you are at a safe distance."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she said.

"But first, I have Darth Baras on holo for you. I will retreat and leave the line secure for the two of you."

She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement and Quinn transferred the channel.

Lord Noicrothatch posed something of a puzzle. It was clear now why Darth Baras wanted her watched—the sheer efficacy—but she didn't behave like the brute Quinn had been ready for. Her manner was dignified, an 'old money' aristocracy air hanging around her.

He didn't have the details of how she'd come into Darth Baras's service, or at least not more the bare minimum, but she didn't carry herself like someone who would take that very well.

"My lord, Ensign Durmat is being detained in the brig of the Republic crater outpost, awaiting questioning by the mysterious agent Darth Baras has me tracking." He held himself stiffly, straighter even than usual and feeling more eager to please. "I will alert you if the investigator appears to be heading there. I assume you want to get to Durmat before she does."

Lord Noicrothatch nodded. "Letting people I need to dispose of be interrogated by 'Jedi Agents'," she didn't make the air quotes but they were heavily implied. "Would generally be counter-productive."

"Then I won't delay you any longer. Good luck on your mission, my lord. I'll be here if you need anything."

The line went dead and Quinn resumed typing. She had crushed odds he'd calculated as almost impossible, and she'd done so without disrupting her hair. He wanted—needed—to see more. What else could she do?

Unfortunately, following this line of thought reminded him that she was also deeply beautiful. Tall, strong, with burning yellow eyes and rounded hips. Tits you could command a battalion from.

None of which was conducive to actually doing his job.

He was his job. It was all he had, all he had been for almost twenty years.

Her Lordship returned. Quinn apologized for misunderestimating how long the mission should have taken her and her Lordship smiled.

What he'd said exactly was immediately forgotten when Lord Noicrothatch chuckled. The sound was dark and soft. Easy to collapse into and friendly in a way Sith generally were not.

“You’re saying I excite you, Lieutenant?” her lordship asked, raising her brow at his phrasing with a small smile.

“I… well…” He couldn't remember the last time he'd been reduced to stammering. The Academy, probably. That was almost twenty years ago.

“You’re blushing,” Lord Noicrothatch said idly. The twi'lek was nearly in stitches.

“I wasn’t expecting the question, my Lord.” Quinn cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders back like that would somehow mitigate his mortification. “If I might continue to brief you on the situation at the arms factory?”

Lord Noicrothatch 'considered' for a moment, her bemused expression playful. "Of course, Lieutenant, but I may choose to readdress the subject."

Quinn swallowed but offered the same nod he did to most of his superiors. “That…that is your prerogative, my lord.”

He wasn't usually out of his depth and women were no exception. Then again, the women he interacted with in a non-professional setting were solely means of unwinding. They were not his superior and they were not sith.

And because she kept shifting the conversation along those lines, Quinn was forced to think m>again about the fact that she was… beautiful. A little taller than he was, her red skin glinted with the gold pierced through it. Her eyes were vibrant.

Which was not productive.

Lord Noicrothatch left after the briefing, long leather coat swishing behind her. Quinn stood stock still until he was certain he was alone before he let himself lean against the wall. It had been years since he'd been this affected by a pretty face, but he couldn't deny that there was a certain amount of excitement in merely the flirtation.

He'd lost interest in flirtations and the romantic back and forth a decade before. The near-court martial and miserable posting he was now trapped in had sapped a lot of who he'd been.

Which had probably been the point.

His career had always come first. Duty to the Empire, then Darth Baras, then himself.

But Balmorra had drained everything else from him.

And for a moment he remembered that there were other things. And that was… well it was certainly something.

But she had started it.

And he was willing to let his imagination wander so long as it doesn’t get in the way of work. She would be gone soon enough.

Lord Noicrothatch unignited her lightsaber and the Jedi agent slumped at her feet. Lord Noicrothatch pushed the still living (for a moment, anyway) woman backwards with her boot. She turned an gave him a bemused smile. "Lieutenant, I could kiss you."

The words washed over him, and Quinn wasn't entirely sure he appreciated it. She was a Sith, out of reach even if she wasn't his direct superior in this matter, and therefore unattainable. Still, he would be lying if he said he wasn't interested. He brushed the comment aside with 'merely doing my duty, my lord.'

The Jedi, clutching her stomach where Lord Noicrothatch’s lightsaber had struck deep, was holding onto a mask of serenity, her faith crushed beneath his boot.

Victory, as ever, was sweet.

Lord Noicrothatch clipped her lightsaber hilts to her belt. "Get her medical treatment if you think the information would be worth it. Shoot her if not."

"My lord," Quinn said, inclining his head respectfully before shooting the agent because moving a jedi was going to be more effort than it was probably worth. He inclined his head politely and left the spaceport when he'd been dismissed.

His mind wandered on the way back to the barracks. "I could kiss you" had certainly been a figure of speech, but it had been a long time since he indulged himself and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like. Her mouth crushed to his, the curve of her back under his gloves.

Malavai felt a twinge beneath his uniform slacks. He considered that, perhaps that evening, he'd take an evening to himself and hire a prostitute. The Cantina wasn't worth it. Most of a decade ago, when he'd first been posted on Balmorra, the girl he'd picked up at the Cantina had been with the resistance. She'd been easy enough to deal with, but the risk (and the mild mortification of having to call someone to remove the dead woman from your quarters) was enough to make simply hiring someone easier. She did her job, he paid her, simple.

At his terminal, Quinn contacted Darth Baras to report that it was done. He risked irritating his master for the first time to allow Lord Noicrothatch the honor of giving the details. It had been her victory, and the small thing he could do to acknowledge that was let her talk to Darth Baras first.

He stood of to the side and felt his chest inflate a little as her lordship described his efficacy and utility without exaggeration or embellishment. But still extremely complementary. Being acknowledged for his talents was something of a private pleasure even beyond hungering for a promotion that was never coming. Despite Broysc's best efforts, Quinn's pride had not been broken.

Watching the pair of Sith though, Malavai noted the first hint of Lord Noicrothath's temper and noted that his earlier assumption was correct: she didn't appear to appreciate her position within Darth Baras's employ. Pride was etched in the strong line of her jaw and the way her shoulders stiffened.

But the only real sign of her irritation was the way her shapely mouth thinned.

The twi'lek, he noted, was off to the side where she was least likely to be caught on the holocall and quiet for arguably the first time.

When Darth Baras commented on Lord Noicrothatch's carelessness about causing an incident (Malavai's own mouth twitched slightly trying to recall what incident because everything had gone much more smoothly than he would have anticipated) he noted the way mild irritation became anger on Lord Noicrothatch's mouth. Her nostrils flared slightly. The muscles in her jaw tightened.

He was watching her face with far too much interest he realized, and quickly rationalized it away as simply gathering data.

Still, he couldn't escape the desire to see her break loose. In monitoring the Jedi's comm channels, he had heard her conversation with Rylen and knew there had been a fight.

But to look at her, you would never have known. She was just as kempt and unbothered as she had been upon arrival.

What would it be like, he wondered as the Sith discussed, to see her undone? Her black hair in disarray, her eyes bright, her lipstick marred with someone else's blood. The question was pushed aside in favor of more immediate matters when Darth Baras addressed him. Malavai fought to keep his posture rigid, rather than slumping slightly with relieved delight as his lord commended him for his promotion. His first in a decade of hard work.

More exciting, though, was the moment Darth Baras told him he would be allowed to choose his own posting. Honestly, other than Hoth, he'd have been happy with anywhere but Balmorra. Ambitions that had been smothered for nearly a decade filled him the way a starving man gorged himself at a feast. Working for a Sith Lord directly was never straightforward and Quinn knew that he was mostly just exchanging one debt for another.

But if it got him off Balmorra it was worth it and he had no doubt that Darth Baras worked with the Empire's best interests in mind.

It was upwards movement and that was all he cared about.

Lord Noicrothatch turned to him as the terminal turned off. "Congratuataions, Captain," she said. "I'll miss your rugged good looks."

He was nearly forty and could not, at any point in his life, be described as 'rugged'.

The twi'lek tittered and to his surprise, Lord Noicrothatch set a hand on her shoulder to quiet her, rather than scold, order, or berate. Which, in his experience with Sith, was unusual. The pair departed without any more fanfare. As they left he caught the twi'lek asking if they could grab something to eat before leaving, her hands clasped behind her head as she walked. And then the caf-dark chuckle. "Of course, Woyonuks."

The notice came on Quinn's personal comm as he was packing his few personal possessions and thinking about where he wanted to be posted. Somewhere beneficial. As beneficial as possible.

But not on Balmorra.

And not on Hoth.

He straightened and produced his comm. He wasn't surprised to see Darth Baras (very few people contacted him personally) but he was a little confused.

"My Lord," Quinn said, standing straight.

"Captain," there was a bemused note to Darth Baras's tone. "What do you make of Lord Noicrothatch?"

Quinn's thoughts flashed to her figure. Tall, strong, bright red skin accented with gold and toned muscles on easy display in her tube top and trench coat.

"She appears to be extremely efficient, my lord," he answered. "I will admit her demeanor surprised me, but I was extremely impressed."

Behind his mask, Darth Baras's expression was unknowable. "I am embedding you on her vessel," he said. It contradicted the claim that Quinn was free to choose his own posting. He could understand why he'd been lied to—the lie had been for Lord Noicrothatch and he was a simple casualty.

Darth Baras's motives didn't matter, only his orders did.

"Yes, my lord," Quinn said obediently. "I'll report to the hangar immediately."

"Good. Should she inquire, the choice of posting is your own."

The line went dead and Quinn packed more quickly and made his way to the hangar to wait.

The new posting posted a single complication, and that was his physical attraction to his new Lord. It wasn't insurmountable. His thoughts were his own and his personal discipline such that he wasn't really worried about overstepping the bounds of propriety.

The hangar was empty when he entered. He set his bag down and turned to look at the ship. It was a Star Fury, and an older model at that. Checking the tags while he waited, he found that she was registered as The Black Sky, property of Lord Fallon Noicrothatch. From what he could tell, based on the year of purchase, she had received it ten years prior meaning it hadn't been a gift from Darth Baras.

It was possible that Quinn was being assigned to her retinue because Darth Baras didn't have eyes on the vessel itself. You never could tell with the Sith.

Voices turned his attention from the vessel and he tucked away his datapad and turned at parade rest to await Lord Noicrothatch and her twi'lek.

Lord Noicrothatch turned her attention to him and lifted one brow, gracing him with a small smile. "Captain Quinn," she remarked.

Quinn nodded and prepared to offer a lie wrapped in truth. Or maybe, right now, it was truth wrapped in lies. Some days he couldn't really tell the difference. Nor did it matter. “My lord.” He inclined his head. “I hope you don’t find my presence here too obtrusive, I beg an audience.”

Lord Noicrothatch brought up one gloved hand and wagged her finger from side to side like a disapproving school marm. Teasing and personable in a way he wasn't sure what to do with. "Begging doesn't generally become an officer, now does it?"

“Pardon my word choice, My Lord. I will speak plainly.”

“Good,” the twi'lek—Vette since they're going to be in close quarters— gave a small snort. “She’s big on plainly.”

Lord Noicrothatch gave a small sigh. "Vette."

"Sorry, Fallon."

Her Lordship's first name? The relationship between the two women was starting to feel less like the Vette was an overly-indulged pet. Which was strange for a sith… at all, in Quinn's experience.

"It's fine, darling. Get the Sky prepped for launch before you use the fresher. I detest this place."

Vette smiled and dipped her head a little. "You got it," and then she moved past Quinn at a relaxed pace. Humming.

Lord Noicrothatch turned her attention back to Quinn and alone, the large and mostly empty space felt almost intimate. "You were saying, Captain."

“Thank you, my Lord," he said. "As you know, Darth Baras enabled my reassignment anywhere I choose. It is an evolution I longed for and assumed it would never come.” It was almost true. All but the detail that the illusion of choice had been offered to fool her specifically. “Aiding your mission on this planet has reawakened the ambition I began my career with—to make the most profound impact for the Empire.” And that was true. Something about her, her manner, her skill, her unassailable facade of calm, made it feel possible to shake the Galaxy to its foundations. In the short time they’d worked together she had bested odds that would baffle others without breaking a sweat.

“A worthy motivation," she said, watching his expression with careful interest. "And one I share."

“Yes, I sensed as much.” He nodded and took a knee before her, tilting his head up to look at her.

Her lordship towered over him, and he couldn't tell if he'd imagined the slightly widening of her eyes and tiniest change in her breathing. Just a note sharper.

He noticed these things professionally because nothing good was going to come of noticing them unprofessionally.

“I cannot think of a more glorious and honorable way to make a difference in the galaxy than to serve you.” He continued. “I’m here to pledge myself to you. I’m ready and willing to serve in whatever capacity you see fit.”

“Whatever capacity?” The tiny chuckle that accompanied her words was stirring. “How exciting.”

And it was. Malavai’s heartbeat quickened beneath his jacket. He could pinpoint a dozen uses for himself just in that moment, just where he is. On his knees in front of her.

This was probably a mistake.

But it was nothing he couldn't handle. They were Darth Baras's orders and not sleeping with your commanding officer wasn't exactly a new tenet of military life.

Though where Sith stood in regards to the chain of command was just nebulously 'at the top' except where it wasn't.

“My lord,” Quinn found himself speaking just a little louder, boyish enthusiasm and an earnest desire to prove himself leaking through his decorum. He had been promoted. After all these years, he had finally been given a way off this dead-end posting. “If given the chance I know I will prove myself to you. I’m a top-notch pilot, a military strategist and a deadly shot. I can fly this ship, plan your battles, assess your enemies and kill them. You won’t find a more tireless and loyal subject. I offer my military prowess and dedicate every ounce of my strength to your cause.”

“I’d be pleased to have you.” She extended a hand to help him to his feet and her grip was sturdy but not crushing.

“The pleasure is mine, my lord. Thank you, I will submit my reassignment papers as we depart.”

She nodded and walked past him up into the ship, giving him an eyeful of the way she moved, the bantha-hide of her coat swishing behind her. Once they were aboard, and her lordship had indicated his quarters, Quinn took a moment to breathe. Leaving his room he heard the sound of the freshier, indicating a few moments with her lordship without her… whatever Vette was. Which meant the first order of business was working out the chain of command here.

Lord Noicrothatch was in the cockpit when he found her, guiding the ship off world and clicking their next coordinates into the navcomputer.

"Captain," she said, turning a little.

"My lord, if you will indulge me, I have a question about your—"

"If the word slave comes out of your mouth, Captain, you will find my sunny demeanor souring very quickly," she said, her tone taking on a sharper note without becoming a true reprimand. She extracted herself gracefully from the chair and indicated it.

His chair.

"However, I can see the confusion," she continued. "Darth Baras almost certainly referred to her as such. For your purposes, Vette is an external contractor. She takes no orders and mostly takes requests from people other than myself when the whim suits her."

This… didn't feel like a particularly efficient working relationship to Quinn, but the results on Balmorra spoke for themselves.

"I see," he responded because there wasn't much else he could say to that. "How long has she been in your employ, my lord?"

"Two years," Lord Noicrothatch said. "She was in the slave pens on Korriban, a little slip of a thing. I informed the jailer that I was taking her and it would be extremely difficult for him to voice a complaint with his head in one corner and his entrails stung up like life day wreaths.

Vivid. Probably pointed as such to make her stance on Vette's treatment clear. "I see," he said. "Thank you, my lord. I work best when I have all the pieces."

"Don't we all," she said. "Welcome aboard, Captain."

Chapter Text

Lord Noicrothatch's painted lips curved into a nearly beckoning smirk. "I don't think I've ever seen someone sidestep a proposition with such grace, Captain Quinn. Particularly without knowing what he was being propositioned for."

It was true. She had not actually invited him to do more than have a cup of caf, and much of the innuendo and implication may have been his imagination.

His catastrophically wishful imagination.

It had been less than a day and they were still some time out from Nar Shaddaa.

"I am here to do a job, My lord."

She studied him for a moment. Her head tilted to the side and right hand curled delicately under her chin. "Yes, I can see that." Her manner shifted and the playful smile fell from her mouth with such ease that he was forced to wonder how genuine it had even been. Still, while emotionally closed off, her lordship didn't seem to be either offended or hostile. "If you note any deficiencies or you have suggestions about my operation, you are to inform me immediately, Captain."

Quinn pulled himself to his full height, standing straight at attention. "I will make such things clearly known, my lord. You can count on me."

"I've no doubt, Captain."

She exited the cockpit and Quinn moved back into his seat. There was more down time on The Black Sky than he was used to and, it having only been about a day, he wasn't sure if that was standard. He'd never served a Sith Lord so directly before and he wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

A little while later, fifteen minutes or so, music began to play through the ship. He was passingly familiar with Sith Opera, but not the piece playing.

Music hadn't been a huge part of his life since before the Military Academy, really. Military bases weren't precisely known for letting anything impede the ability to communicate orders as quickly as possible and he'd never cared much for the garbage the Cantina played. But it was… nice having the melody drift lightly through the cockpit.

He enjoyed it.

A day out from Nar Shaddaa and Quinn received notice from one of Darth Baras's other contacts that Moff Broysc had heard about his reassignment. He wasn't sure what Broysc could do about it—almost certainly nothing—but just reading the man's name set Quinn's teeth on edge.

More importantly, he recognized, it dictated that he needed to tell Lord Noicrothatch about Druckenwell himself before she heard about it from another source. Fortunately, it seemed that Lord Noicrothatch liked the quiet of the stars as much as he did and it wasn't long before she joined him in the cockpit. He got up out of his chair and saluted. Her lordship's clothing was understated—a simple black dress—but her posture remained imperious.

“Permission to speak freely, my Lord?” he asked.

Lord Noicrothatch nodded and took her eyes off the void to focus on him. “You may always speak freely, Quinn. I abide hedging and unquestioning obedience only from disposable pawns.”

The use of Quinn rather than Captain felt significant, but he couldn't pinpoint why in the moment.

Lowering his arm, Quinn cleared his throat. "I will keep that in mind. I am unaware of how much of my service record has been relayed to you, my Lord."

"Baras wasn't particularly forthcoming. Regale me."

She didn't call him Darth Baras, Quinn noted. Like she objected to the respect Darth Baras was entitled.

“There’s a reason I was languishing on Balmorra before you arrived," he began, choosing not to bring up the fact that he was a lieutenant despite two decades of decorated service. "A decade ago I served under Moff Broysc at the Battle of Druckenwell.” Her lordship nodded. “Moff Broysc made a critical oversight that brought the fleet to the brink of complete defeat. I ignored his order and turned the tide to victory.”

Her expression remained interested and lightly bemused, but he felt the slightest pressure against his thoughts. It lasted only a moment and her lordship's expression warmed, a small smile on her perfectly painted lips. “Then you are to be commended, Quinn. I remember reading about Druckenwell shortly after leaving the Kaasian Academy. From the reporting it was impossible odds turned on the flip of a coin.”

Despite himself, Malavai smiled at the compliment and shrugged. “Well, that’s not how the Moff saw it.” Noting his sudden lapse—and trying not to note her lordship's lips curve and chest lift with an unvoiced little laugh—Quinn straightened and cleared his throat again. “Broysc took credit for the reversal, which is fine, but then he court-martialed me.” The fury started to build again but he choked it down, almost missing the way Fallon’s lips parted and her eyes seem to glow.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t have let him take credit," she said conversationally. "It was his blunder, he should have borne the fruit. But,” she gestured elegantly. “Continue.”

“I—thank you, My lord." It was somehow a relief to have her agree with him and her way of doing so was more personable than professional in a way that, given the subject matter, was fortifying. "Darth Baras had me assigned to Balmorra or my career would have been over. Broysc has blocked every transfer or promotion I’ve been up for since.”

"Has he?" she said.

He could see gears behind her eyes and wasn't sure it was going to be good for him.

However, she brushed the comment aside with a small scoff. "I've no tolerence for that kind of foolishness. You turned the tide of the battle and would almost certainly have been of greater value to the Empire somewhere else. Sobrik was a garbage dump."

He smiled a little. "I could say more about him,” Quinn’s posture, still straighter than a ruler, eased just a little. “But my point is made.” He met her eyes and forced himself not to blink or look away. “I serve you now. I have no regrets.”

"I'm glad to hear it." Her posture shifted, indicating that she intended to leave. "Put the ship on autopilot until we arrive, I intend to have you accompany me on the planet's surface and you may wish to rest first. Emperor only knows what we'll have to deal with down there."

"Yes, my lord." He saluted as she departed the cockpit and waited unil she was gone to sit back down and begin plugging instructions into the autopilot.

It had been a decade since he'd felt optimistic about a posting. He owed Darth Baras for the opportunity and would be sure to repay it in any way he could.

He joined Lord Noicrothatch and Vette in the main room with the holoterminal for Darth Baras's briefing, noting that her lordship was once again dressed more practically. He had never been to Nar Shaddaa before—simply a lack of opportunity—but nothing he'd heard made it feel like it would have been worth the visit.

"Ah, Lord Noicrothatch," Darth Baras said as he flickered into view. "I see you've landed on Nar Shaddaa. It is, I'm afraid, the armpit of the galaxy."

"I'm aware," Lord Noicrothatch said. Her posture and tone were polite, but the expected deference was… lacking. Likely the reason Darth Baras wanted her watched. "Who do you need eliminated?"

"Your lack of respect continues to discredit you," Darth Baras said. He didn't, however, harp on the subject. "But you are there to eliminate my spy, Agent Dellocon. Normally, it would be a trifling task, but Dellocon has acquired a powerful ally."

"A rival sith, I assume," Lord Noicrothatch said.

"Indeed. His new benefactor is a young Sith Lord named Rathari, an upstart who openly disrespects my methods."

Vette made a small, amused noise that Quinn was relatively certain wouldn't be picked up by the holoterminal.

"Rathari prefers a more blunt approach, so I'm certain you can counter him. The Dark Council granted him dominion over Sith interests on Nar Shaddaa."

"I see," Lord Noicrothatch said.

"Agent Dellocan knows much about my organization. I cannot have Rathari in possession of such a resource."

"It would be extremely awkward if Master Karr's padawan allied with Rathari, I suppose."

Darth Baras's expression was inscrutable behind his mask, but Quinn stole a glance at Lord Noicrothatch with half a mind to question the lapse in respect. He didn't, because he wasn't suicidal and Darth Baras needed him there, but it was still surprising.

"Noicrothatch," Darth Baras rebuked her.

"Where can I find Rathari?" Lord Noicrothatch asked, instead of apologizing.

Darth Baras's posture was tense and his tone tight as he gave the name of the woman who ran his slave operation on Nar Shaddaa. The terminal clicked off and Lord Noicrothatch turned to Vette.

"Slave operation," Vette said with a small sigh and a shake of her head.

"An unfortunate reality, Woyonuks," Lord Noicrothatch said. "Men claiming to build their own fortresses while only ever using someones else's hands."

Quinn's surprise at her distaste for the caste system despite her clear upbringing was kept behind his teeth as Vette chuckled.

"Is that from one of your operas?" Vette teased.

Lord Noicrothatch shook her head a little. "Resupply while Captain Quinn and I go deal with Rathari, darling."

Vette nodded. "Have fun."

"At the very least it should provide a workout." Her lordship turned to look at Quinn and he straightened automatically. "Captain."

"Yes my lord." He followed her out of the ship. Menzeti spaceport was much like any other spaceport as they left the hangar, fewer flags than you got in an Imperial spaceport (obviously) and people loitering around like they had nowhere to be.

Lord Noicrothatch's pace was relaxed, but not slowed. "You have a question," she said, turning to look at him as he walked at her side.

Quinn nodded, admittedly a little surprised. "Your response to the slave trade, my lord. It seemed… unorthodox."

"I suppose it would," she said. She turned to look at him and he noticed again that she was several inches taller than he was. "Are you familiar with the Sith Code, Quinn?"

"Yes, my lord."

"I believe that slavery should be earned the same way accolades are," she said. "A vanquished foe is one thing, I tend to consider it more of a utilitarian tropy. But generational slavery? Simply slapping a collar on someone for being neither human nor pureblood? I find it extremely counterproductive."

"I see."

"Your thoughts?"

He wasn't entirely used to someone asking his opinion on something like this and he offered a small shrug. "To be honest my lord, I've never given it much thought."

"Knowing the foundation of a power structure is the basis of both strengthening and ascending it," her lordship said, her tone conversational and pleasant and her manner relaxed.

Malavai nodded again. "I hadn't thought of it in those terms, my lord."

Her head turned and she raised a brow before turning back to watch where she was walking. "I find that almost a little difficult to believe, Captain. I checked your service record and you've been described as 'extremely shrewd and calculating.' I would be surprised if that shrewdness hadn't translated to your own chain of command."

It didn't feel pointed, but before Quinn could ask what she meant, feeling bold enough to do so by her manner, they had reached Halidrell Setsyn's operation and the conversation had ended.

Halidrell was surrounded by armed men wearing Exchange colors. Quinn moved his right hand back to his blaster, but Lord Noicrothatch continued forward without much change in her poise. Having only worked with her briefly, Quinn couldn't tell if it was a front or genuine disconcert, but in either case, the facade was seamless.

He noted it because Darth Baras wanted her watched and not at all out of his own interest. He was a consummate professional.

"Believe me," said Setsyn. "You're going to prefer the sugar to the spice. Take one step closer, and there will be two dozen Sith surrounding you."

"Two dozen?" said the gangster. "That's a dead giveaway darlin'—" the condescending remark was cut short as the man dropped, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.

Quinn took the hint and fired three shots, one into each of the stunned thugs, dropping them and then holstering his blaster.

"Two dozen is excessive," Lord Noicrothatch said idly. "You have better luck with a single digit, think one Sith per five gangsters."

"You're the one Darth Baras prepped me for, yes?" asked Halidrell.

Lord Noicrothatch's nostrils flared slightly. "Baras sent me, yes. This is Captain Quinn, my attache."

"Halidrell Setsyn. So you're here to take out Lord Rathari. Won't be easy, he usually just appears, devastates, then disappears."

Lord Noicrothatch gave a slight nod, prompting Setsyn to continue.

"You'll have to draw him out. He's been making some major power plays, and disrupting them will get his attention."

"It usually does. I expect you have a particular play in mind, Ms. Setsyn."

"I do," said Setsyn. "Rathari's been strong-arming the Hutt Cartel. From what I hear, they're close to signing over some important territories to him."

Lord Noicrothatch folded her arms over her bust and set the gloved knuckle of her right hand against her chin between the elegant barbs jutting forward from her jaw. "Continue," she said with a certain note of thoughtfulness.

"He and his apprentice Girik are in conference with the Hutts at one of the Cartel's headquarters. If you burst in…"

"A very clear picture. Thank you Ms. Setsyn. Forward me the address."

"Yes, my lord."

Lord Noicrothatch turned, coat flickering behind her and Quinn falling into step beside her. "An interesting move for a blunt instrument, don't you think, Quinn?"

"It's a risky strategy. The Cartel is currently an Imperial ally." For some reason.

She nodded. "Indeed, and I feel very certain it's about to blow up in his face." She smiled at him and Quinn felt compelled to smile back, however small he forced it to be.

They made their way towards the taxi. They settled into the vehicle and she turned her head to look at him. "Oh, and Quinn?"

"My lord?"

"I'm impressed. Usually when a man claims to be a deadly shot he's at best slightly above average. You actually seem to be."

He couldn't help the small swell in his chest. "I strive for accuracy in my reports, my lord." He had been a good shot before his assignment to Balmorra, but frustration with Broysc, with the court-martial, with some of the people he worked with, had led him to spend a great deal of time at the range getting better.

"Not much to do in Sobrik?" she asked, almost teasing with her yellow eyes bright. Even playful, her voice was dark, low, and even.

Quinn tilted his head a little in acknowledgement. "My superiors would have been annoyed about my actually shooting my more inept subordinates," he said, feeling himself fall for the trap of her personability in the confines of the cab. It was just them and her posture was straight but approachable. "The range was much less likely to file a report."

Lord Noicrothatch chuckled and turned her attention forward.

Her lordship was businesslike once more as they left the cab and headed to the Cartel's safe house. A few Anti-Empire agents attempted to delay or hassle them but Lord Noicrothatch handled them with a brutal efficiency that he appreciated.

On more levels than was professionally appropriate.

Her Lordship's clothing choice—a tube top, cargo pants, and a long black trench tench coat—all accented her warm red skin and the way her eyes seemed to literally glow with malicious delight as she carved a swatch through the limited resistance.

Quinn was going to blame the moderate distraction on being posted on Balmorra and not spending much time with extra-military individuals. Much less attractive women in tube tops who were competent, intelligent, and had spent much of their brief acquaintance flirting with him for reasons he neither understood or, frankly, trusted.

Still, she was something of a wonder to watch in action, which he had theorized on Balmorra, but was pleased to witness. It made a lot of sense why Darth Baras had acquired her services and tolerated her disrespect.

Entering the room with where Lord Rathari's apprentice was brow-beating the Hutts, Lord Noicrothach held her head up high and used the fact that she absolutely towered over the other sith as a means of what seemed to be understated intimidation.

She inclined her head slightly to the Hutts. "I'm here to offer you an alternative,"she said. "I doubt the Dark Council would approve of the way Rathari has risked the Empire's relationship with the mighty Hutt Cartel."

It was an unavoidable truth that dealing with the Hutts required careful language.

<< This is a private meeting, >> said one of the Hutts. << You do yourself no favors with this intrusion. >>

Lord Noicrothatch tilted her head a little. "I apologize for the intrusion, but it seemed prudent to get here before you were forced to sign over territory to an upstart."

Rathari's apprentice was practically steaming, his posture tense and when he snapped he was all but gnashing his teeth. "This is the arm of an over-the-hill Sith Lord named Darth Baras."

Lord Noicrothatch turned her head slightly, like she was deigning to acknowledge him. "My, you are fresh from the Academy, aren't you?" She looked back to the Hutts. "Will you hear my proposal?"

The Hutts seemed to confer for a moment and then granted her permission.

She lifted one gloved hand and the apprentice rose into the air, kicking his feet as she crushed his throat tightly enough to keep his gurgles quiet. "I will kill him, and then remove Rathari as an obstacle, leaving the Hutt Cartel's relationship with the Empire unchanged by his grasping hands."

<< Intriguing. >> said one of the Hutts. << We agree. >>

Her fist tightened and the body went slack before she dropped it. "A pleasure."

She turned and Quinn followed her out of the room.

Once they were away, heading back to the taxi she rubbed her temple with two fingers, betraying her irritation. Still, her pride hadn't impeded her efficacy, even dealing with the Hutts. She had furthered the Empire's interests while accomplishing her task.

Even if he hadn't been assigned, Quinn couldn't think of a place he would rather be serving. She pulled in a breath and looked at him, yellow eyes meeting his own. " I need something to clear the Hutt stench from my nostrils. We will be making a small detour on the way back to Halidrell."

"My lord," he said obediently.

He followed her dutifully to the taxi and then to the Promenade and then to a small cafe, upscale, but not crowded.

They took a seat beside a wall of synthetic plants and her lordship got a cup of caf, unsweetened and undoctored, the way he took his. She looked at him. "Get yourself something, Quinn. No point in you just watching me have a refreshment before we get back to it."

"My lord." He ordered the same thing and sat across from her. Malavai rested both hands on the table, clasped together.

"Have you been to Nar Shaddaa before, Quinn?" she asked.

"No, my lord."

"I'd say you haven't missed much, but I don't know your hobbies," she said. "We likely won't be lingering after my business with Rathari is finished."

He nodded. Their caf was brought and he took a drink.

Lord Noicrothatch sipped hers and then lowered it. "Do you usually take your caf black?" she asked conversationally.

Quinn nodded. "I do."

"Preference or necessity?"

"It began as the latter, my lord, but I do prefer it." Her eyes were gentle, watching him, but not scrutinizing. As if they were just out for caf. He didn't think he'd been 'out for caf' since before Druckenwell.

Was she testing him?

Lord Noicrothatch chuckled a little. "I can certainly relate to that. I couldn't stand undoctored caf for years. I had a hideous sweet tooth as a girl."

"What changed?" it likely wasn't an appropriate question, but she seemed to be inviting him to test her in turn.

"Are you familiar with the traditional brewing of Korribani caf?" she asked. When Quinn gave a small shake of his head, she continued. "It's not the ancient tradition it sounds like, dating back to… I believe shortly after the Empire made contact with Garqi. The beans are ground particularly fine and mixed with water and then heated over sand—hence the name. The result is a dark, strong brew and a black paste of ground at the bottom of the cup that's usually just eaten with a spoon."

Malavai took another drink to cover the small smile trying to force its way onto his mouth.

Lord Noicrothatch's mouth warmed. "Tradtionally, it's also made with sugar, but my father preferred it plain. There was such an artistry to the whole thing that the bitterness didn't bother me and, like that, I started experimenting with just having my caf plain."

The diversion was over before too long, less than a half hour, and then they were back in the taxi returning to Setsyn.

He stood to the side as Lord Noicrothath and Halidrell Setsyn discussed Rathari's reaction to their interference. Listening, he wondered if part of their detour for caf had been to give Rathari time to fume. It had been a pleasant diversion in any event.

He followed Lord Noicrothatch back to the taxi and their next goal—a republic outpost near where Rathari had been making another play.

Lord Noicrothatch sat comfortably in the backseat, watching the neon lights that drifted past, like a nexu conserving its strength.

The Imperial troops assaulting the outpost hesitated long enough for one of the men to ask who she was and another to point out that she was there to take out Lord Rathari and the events that followed were predictable. Her Lordship sliced through the Imperial troops with practiced ease and no outward distress at cutting down Imperials and Quinn followed along behind her, trying to be equally unconflicted but forced to think about the fact that he and the dead men were wearing the same uniform.

"Men!" An Imperial shouted. "Fall back! Rally here!"

Her Lordship, Quinn at her heels, made her way over, hooking the lightsabers to her belt as she moved.

"My Lord," said the general—marked by the stripes above his heart. "What is the meaning of this? We are on the verge of striking a major blow to the Republic. I am General Kligton, commanding on the authority of Sith Lord Rathari, appointed to Nar Shaddaa by the Dark Council! Why do you attack the Empire's men?"

Her Lordship held her head tall. She was already over six foot and the short heels of her boots made her properly domineering. "I need to have a word with your master," she said. "Your men made the mistake of firing at me first, I suggest you don't repeat it."

"He is attending to other matters," said General Kligton. "You belong to Darth Baras—" He clutched for his throat as Her Lordship reached forward and grabbed him, her black-gloved hand complimenting the power she wielded through the Force.

"A poor choice of words," she said simply, crushing his trachea and dropping the body. Before the few remaining members of Kilgton's forces could react, Lord Noicrothatch cut them down.

"My Lord?" Quinn asked.

She turned as Quinn heard footsteps behind them that interrupted the question. The Republic Captain that had been holding the outpost had moved down to the street, outside of his protective blockade. He looked at Her Lordship with bravery trying to mask the fear in his eyes.

"Sith," he said. "I am Commander Naughlen. I'm in charge of this defensive. I'm unarmed."

"I'm impressed," she said. "Not many in your position would approach me openly." Her weight swayed, settling more on one hip than the other and one arms folded up to rest the knuckles of the hand under her chin.

"I doubt that a blaster would save me," Naughlen said.

Her Lordship nodded in agreement. It would not.

"We do not wish a fight, but we also cannot relinquish this area. What are your terms?"

"My terms are simple," she said. "I have dealings with another Sith Lord in the area, when I am ready to handle him, I will call upon you and you will repay my mercy."

Commander Naughlen nodded and produced his holofrequency, which Quinn took down as Lord Noicrothatch nodded.

"I will answer your call, you have my word. Until we meet again, Sith." The Republic Commander turned and started shouting to his men to attend to the wounded while her lordship swept back towards the taxi, leather coat billowing behind her.

Quinn's stomach twisted as she stepped over the bodies of the slain Imperials. “Troubled, Captain?” Fallon asked without looking at him, moving towards the exit.

“Why spare them?” Malavai asked, keeping pace. “The Republic Soldiers, I mean.”

“You don’t approve?” She spared him a curious look but only momentarily. “I know nothing of Rathari, and having a few Republic Commandos to hurl at a problem is rarely a poor idea.” She wrinkled her nose. “We're not technically at war yet and if you have a tool, better to keep it around until you know you don’t need it or it becomes a liability."

It was a load-bearing 'technically', but her lordship wasn't wrong. "I believe many would consider it wasteful to invest in tools you don't need."

"Yes," she said. "I suppose 'many' would. And those 'many' are fools. Look at Commander Rylon. Even with his cover blown, he could have been extradited and provided key insight into our enemies workings. Rather than kill his son, we could have used the boy to ensure his loyalty.” She shook her head. “The death of the Imperials is a tragedy, but so was their commitment to following bad orders.”

"A soldier can't choose which orders to follow, my lord."

She stopped walking and turned to look at him, yellow eyes sharp and calculating. "Then what, Captain Quinn, is the difference between a soldier and a slave?"

His answer was interrupted by the beeping of Lord Noicrothatch's holodevice. She watched him for a long moment, like she expected an answer before answering, but the beeping was insistent and she produced the comm to take the call.

"My Lord!" Halidrell shouted. "My base…! My base is under attack! The last of my men and I are holded up in the command center, but the doors are about to give!"

"I'm on my way," her lordship said. "Hold out as long as possible."

Halidrell's terrified hologram nodded and her lordship broke into a run, heading back towards the taxi, her heavy boots thundering on the welded durasteel flooring.

Malavai chased after her.

Halidrell was dead by the time they arrived. Lord Noicrothatch swept through the bodies and lifted a hologram left by Halidrell's corpse. From where he was standing, behind and slightly to the side of his lord, Quinn couldn't make out her expression. But he could see the tightness in her shoulders and he could hear Rathari.

The edge of a gloat so common to the Sith that Quinn had dealt with before.

"If you dare show," Rathari sneered over the hologram. "I will grant you a duel to the death. Be honored."

The hologram ended and Quinn took a step forward. "My lord," he said, waiting for the minute head tilt of acknowledgement. "If I may, I smell an ambush."

Her lordship spared him a thin smile. "Not just a pretty face. But yes, I agree. Commander Naughlen and his men owe me their lives.” She folded her hands behind her back after gesturing to him with a delicate flick of her wrist. “Hail them.”

“At once, my Lord.”

The holo of the Commander in Quinn's palm looked annoyed, but he didn’t falter as her lordship passed along the instructions.

“The proper tool, Quinn,” she said as he tucked the device away. “When we spring Rathari’s trap, he’ll spring mine.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Not just a pretty face.

Nar Shadaa's Network Access area was pretty in ways the rest of the neon jungle simply wasn't. More elegant, less ostentatious.

Maybe this was because there were fewer garish billboards demanding his attention.

While they were in the taxi, Lord Noicrothatch produced her comm and called the ship, a soft smile gentling her features as Vette answered.

"Hey," Vette said with exactly none of the deference their lord was due. "How's it going."

"It's going fine," Lord Noicrothatch said. "We should be almost finished. How are our systems?"

"The ship's fine," Vette answered. "I haven't refueled yet because I didn't know how long it was going to be but I'll get that started. Already did the supply requisition and," there was the hint of a sing-song on the conjunction.

"And?" Lord Noicrothatch asked, apparently willing to indulge Vette's nonsense.

"I found something you'll like. But it's a surprise for when you get back so you don't abandon me in the armpit of the Galaxy."

Her lordship chuckled. "I could no more abandon you that my left leg, Woyonuks. I'll see you soon." She tucked the comm away and turned her head slightly, lifting her flawless red brow at Quinn like she expected him to comment.

He knew better than that.

The taxi settled and her lordship, reaching one hand back to check that her hair was still perfectly coiffed before she made her way up to where she was supposed to face Rathari.

Rathari was tall for a human, but still a good inch shorter than Malavai himself and several shorter than Lord Noicrothatch. This did not, however, stop him from attempting to loom. "Ah, you showed," he crowed with self-importance. "You lack your master's caution; I applaud that."

Her Lordship looked little more than bored.

"Dellocon," Rathari said, turning to the short man beside him. "Bara's lackey is here. So say your piece and do it before I kill this would-be assassin."

"Captain," her lordship said.

Quinn's blaster was in his hand in a flash and he shot Dellocon through the throat.

Rathari's attempt to intercede was cut by Lord Noicrothatch stepping into him. Her elbow caught him in the throat and then her hands curled around his wrist, snapping it with a scream and she leaned in and flipped the other Sith Lord over her shoulder, following him to the ground with her knee planted between his shoulder blades and his arm bent against his spine at a hard angle, the strain in the muscles evident.

"Excellent shot, Captain," she praised idly.

"Thank you, my lord," Quinn said, trying to neither look nor sound mesmerized at the sheer efficacy of the way she pinned the other Sith Lord.

"Call off your dogs, Rathari," her lordship said with a saccharine sweetness. "Before I have to call in mine."

"I yield!" It was more of a yelp than Quinn had ever heard from a Sith. "I yield!" Her lordship pushed his broken wrist a little higher on his spine and he cried out. "It's clear to me now—someday you will rise above your master. It is you, not I, who will be Darth Baras's end!" He gasped for the pain. "Grant me mercy, my lord, so I may live to see it. Honor me with some small part in it."

Quinn tried to swallow the prayer that Lord Noicrothatch would object to the idea of such a treachery, but even as he did, he knew that her lordship bore Darth Baras no love. He was on her ship specifically because she couldn't be trusted.

The best he could do was watch and maybe try to sway her back towards their master.

“From now on, Rathari," Lord Noicrothatch said as she rose from where she had him pinned to allow him to stand. "My power, my will, is now your only interest in the galaxy."

Rathari nodded, cradling his shattered wrist in his other hand. "You have siphoned all other ambition from me, my lord."

"Good. I'll call when I need you." She dismissed him with a twist of her wrist and waited for him and his men to leave, a display of dominance that this place, this planet now belonged to her.

She turned her attention back to Quinn and graced him with a little smile.

“The proper tool, my lord?” Malavai asked, still awestruck.

“Rathari’s operation, as we’ve seen, is extensive. It’s now mine.” Her mouth warmed to a cruel smile. “He’ll plot to kill me of course, but with the right application of carrot and stick, Rathari will prove a useful tool.”

“Much like with Vette?”

Lord Noicrothatch shook her head. “Vette has been with me for a couple of years. She is not a tool, Quinn, she is a trusted asset. I reward all things with their due: cleverness with credit, loyalty with protection, fealty with love. Rathari is a weapon: useful if pointed the right way, potentially dangerous if not. Vette is an ally.”

“And me, my lord?”

Her smile shifted and became hard to read. Her yellow eyes followed the contorts of his face as she studied him. Then she hummed and gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “I’m still figuring that out, Quinn.”

His knees felt like water.

Chapter Text

Upon finishing with Nar Shaddaa, Darth Baras commanded them to a Republic Monitoring Station, a few days' flight from the planet. Lord Noicrothatch failed to mention to Darth Baras that she had spared Lord Rathari (which wasn't particularly surprising) but Quinn had been sure to include that detail in his own report.

Besides that, he was still doing his best to settle in but neither Lord Noicrothatch nor Vette were making that particularly easy.

Vette was disrespectful in ways that made him grit his teeth and her Lordship was overly indulgent of the twi'lek's nonsense. This was evident in the way Vette tended to lounge. The surprise she had mentioned to her lordship had turned out to be a bottle of Apnack Wine from the vineyard the Noicrothatch family owned and a bushel of the fresh fruit.

And her Lordship was… distracting. Outside of combat she oozed a sort of predatory elegance that made it hard to focus on what he was doing rather than watching her out of the corner of his eye, and she seemed to enjoy pulling him into light conversation.

Which he enjoyed.

Which did not help matters.

Quinn had been using the unprecedented amount of downtime and generally lax environment to pursue his own interests. Specifically in the moment, resuming the pursuit of the Republic agent Voloren who had been causing unchecked damage because Broysc was too much of an idiot because Moff Broysc had had other priorities.

Stepping into the lounge he held the disappointed breath in his lungs instead of exhaling it. Vette was on the settee beside Her Lordship, her lekku over Lord Noicrothatch's lap and her knees over the back of the of couch. She was humming along with the gentle opera that seemed a perpetual backdrop aboard The Black Sky.

He considered coming back later, but the information he was holding was relatively time-sensitive and what time he'd spent aboard Lord Noicrothatch's ship had been enough to tell him that there wasn't going to be a more appropriate time because Vette was always going to be like this.

Her lordship, one hand holding a datapad and the other a small glass of wine, raised her striking yellow eyes to meet his. "Quinn," she invited with a small nod and the gentlest touch of a smile. "Something on your mind?"

“My lord.” He gave a short bow, tuning out Vette’s little snort as he did. “I have been working on something in my spare time, you may be interested.”

“Regale me.” Her eyes moved to the seat across from her. An invitation—but not an order—to sit.

She didn't give many orders about that sort of thing, he'd noticed.

Malavai remained standing, he looked at Vette and back to her lordship and her lordship lifted her brow slightly, daring him to ask. Nothing he was about to share was sensitive, but it was for her and her alone.

Idly, a back part of his brain wondered how desperate he was to impress her. How far he would go. How many stories of near-victories that should have been victories he had to share. He had languished on Balmorra for a decade, the idea that Lord Noicrothatch might think it was because he was anything but cheated made his blood boil.

The silent confrontation was ended by Vette, who rolled her eyes and then rolled up to sitting. “Yeah, yeah. I get it,” Vette sighed. “Nice chatting with you, Boss.”

Lord Noicrothatch took her eyes off of Malavai to look at Vette as the twi'lek got up and left the room with her apnack. Her lordship set down the datapad and returned her attention to Quinn.

Quinn cleared his throat and stiffened his spine. "My lord," he said. “Years ago I was zeroing in on a notorious SIS Agent called Voloren when Moff Broysc recalled me to the Battle of Druckenwell.”

Lord Noicrothatch nodded.

“I had the spy cornered. I briefed Moff Broysc so he could send someone else to take Voloren out. He ignored the opportunity.”

“Is that a sliver of rage, Quinn?” Her tone was deep and warm, washing over him in lightly mocking waves. “Is this a personal vendetta?

There was a note of approval in the way she asked that rolled through his spine in waves. Quinn stiffened his shoulders to keep the weakness from watering his knees, forcing the wall of professionalism between them. “I… admit, knowing I was so close to ending his career made languishing on Balmorra even more difficult. But I take this on only for the good of the Empire."

She lifted the glass to her painted lips and took a small sip, giving the impression that she didn't quite believe him. Which was reasonable, as it wasn't quite true. But it was supposed to be true so Quinn ignored it. "This spy has caused immeasurable losses. I know his signature and by tracing his accomplishments, I’ve picked up his scent.”

She folded and unfolded her legs, the movement drawing his eyes. The pants she was wearing were tight and even without a hint of the red skin beneath, he found himself enticed. Quinn forced his eyes back to hers. “Then it’s imperative you find him,” she said.

“Very good, my lord.”

"When are we slated to reach the Outpost?" she asked.

"Three hours at current velocity, my lord."

"Good," she said. “You continue to impress me, Captain.” The words held a purr and he remembered what she'd said about carrots and sticks and not knowing where he fit yet. She reached into the basket on the table and selected one of the shiny green fruit. He watched the way her fingers gently checked the flesh for blemishes or bruises before she lifted it in an offering. “Vette’s had hers, Quinn, have an apnack. A taste of Dromund Kaas that you’ve been missing.”

Malavai's fingers brushed hers as he took the fruit. "I am overwhelmed, my lord." The words were softer than he had intended. Truer. "I shall alert you when we arrive at the outpost."

"Thank you, Quinn."

Quinn snapped a salute, transferring the apnack to the other hand as he did so before turning and returning the to cockpit. He settled in his chair and looked at the fruit.

He hadn't been back to Dromund Kaas in eight years. His thumb pet the skin of the fruit, feeling the small scales. Apnacks grew best on Dromund Kaas, one of the few fruits that thrived in the near-constant rain. He didn't think he'd had a fresh one since the last time he'd been home to the Capital.

And that trip had been brief. A few days of leave to attend his father's funeral.

Malavai sunk his teeth into the skin closed his eyes, like blocking out the other sense would let him better enjoy the taste. Apnacks were spicy when cooked through, adding a layer of heat to any dish, but when raw the fruit was juicy and sweet, just the touch of numbing bitterness near the pit.

Familiar and aching of home.

Quinn followed Lord Noicrothatch onto into the Outpost Darth Baras had directed them to. The Republic Outpost itself had little in the way of defenses, clearly relying mostly on remaining undetected for defense. For Quinn, this was another example of Darth Baras's command of information, but he chose not to share that observation with Lord Noicrothatch.

She fought through the small number of Republic soldiers aboard the station until she reached the security chief and collected the codes off of his corpse.

"This way, my Lord," Quinn said. Republic stations were laid out in a predictable fashion and he had the general blueprint memorized. "It should be the quickest route to the Communications Center."

"You have a good sense of the layout," Lord Noicrothatch said, going the direction he indicated. "I'm glad I chose you to accompany me."

He smiled despite himself. "As am I, my lord."

The codes they picked up allowed Lord Noicrothatch to stroll into the Comn Center with ease, Quinn following behind her.

One of the techs was looking up at the holo of Master Nomen Karr (easily identified by a file Darth Baras had sent Quinn some time ago, in case the Jedi showed his face on Balmorra personally). The tech's posture was tight, trying to not be terrified.

Quinn's hand, curled around the grip of his blaster, was settled at his side, ready to raise an fire at her lordship's command.

"Calm your fear, Hirosho; it will not serve you. I will speak with your visitor when the time comes."

"I believe that would be now," Lord Noicrothach said, lifting Hirosho with the Force. She snapped his neck and dropped the body off to the side. "Master Karr."

"Sith," Master Karr said with no acknowledgement of the dead man. "I presume you are Darth Baras's new apprentice. I am Jedi Master Nomen Karr. Do you know me?"

"You presume wrong," Lord Noicrothatch said evenly. "But, yes, I know who you are."

"Baras and I like to keep tabs on each other. So when I heard he was moving a new piece on the board, I investigated. These men were merely monitoring the equipment. Following orders. There was no need for bloodshed here."

"If you wanted them out of harm's way, you shouldn't have had them tracking my movements," Lord Noicrothatch said. "I take a dim view of such things."

Quinn felt a small shiver of fear down his spine. He was monitoring her movements. But he was doing it for Baras and the Empire, which was different. It had to be different.

"Such a sad attempt to deflect responsibility, Sith," said the Jedi. "I shall honor Hirosho and his men's lives by dedicating myself to thwarting you and your master."

"I thought it was unbecoming of a Jedi to lie," her lordship observed. "You were already dedicating yourself to thwarting Baras. If you weren't they wouldn't have been in my path in the first place. But I suppose retroactive justification is all you have at the moment."

Master Karr took a breath, his expression remaining calm. "It calms me that you and Baras have no idea what you're up against."

"Your padawan?" Lord Noicrothatch said. "The one with the great power that will reveal Baras's web of spies within the Republic? Yes, I am quite aware of her."

There was a beat, but the Jedi's expression remained placid. "You know more than I thought. How unfortunate. I've kept her name and location a secret. So you and your master are just feeling your way in the dark. My padawan is of supreme importance to me and the Jedi Order. I will not let harm come to her."

Her Lordship looked at the body on the floor in front of her and then up at Master Karr. "You do have quite the track record of protecting people from the Sith."

There it was, a glimmer of emotion—in this case irritation—from the Jedi. Master Karr's jaw tightened. "You're about to find out how resourceful I can be."

Boots echoed behind them and Quinn looked over his shoulder to see the republic troopers thundering in to the room. He moved, positioning himself between the soldiers and her lordship.

"These troopers are among the Republic's finest," Master Karr said. "Surrender, and the Jedi Council will be lenient."

A sharp, hateful laugh cracked out of Lord Noicrothatch. "Will they?"

She turned, smoothly stepping around Quinn as the soldiers moved to close. Her hands lifted and then turned and she pushed a wave of telekinetic force forward, sweeping the troopers off their feet and backwards towards the door. Many of them landed on their backs and before they could stand, she twisted the Force around the controls holding the blast doors up and loosened them, causing the durasteel to drop, slamming into the bodies with a crashing force. Dismembering them from the sheer weight. Legs and arms flew away from the point of impact and the bodies—clad in 30 kilos each of durasteel—popped from the pressure like gore-choked balloons.

Red and brown and yellow spattered the doors and the floor and then Fallon gestured and the door rose again, intestines dangling like party streamers.

Quinn, who considered himself to have a strong stomach, fully winced. But at the same time… it was masterful. There was a power to her he had never encountered and a sort of brutal, tactical, genius.

The display froze the remaining troopers solid, staring at what had become of their comrades, and Quinn was able to pick them off without any difficulty.

He used the way she turned back to the holoterminal as a chance to surreptitiously adjust his uniform slacks.

"It seems Darth Baras has found himself a singularly vicious weapon in you," Master Karr said. There was something… unsettling about his calm demeanor given what had just happened. "This experience has given me valuable insight. I'll be prepared for you next time, Sith."

"Lord Noicrothatch," she corrected. "Captain, cut the transmission."

Quinn nodded and stepped forward, cutting off the transmission.

Her lordship turned and eyed the bodies. "Captain," she said.

"My lord."

"Don't mention this particular display to Vette," she instructed. "It would give her nightmares."

"Yes, my lord," Quinn agreed. "May I ask how you knew it would work? I've never seen a Sith dismantle the door controls in such away.

Her lordship began to head back to the ship, past the bodies that had been pulverized and dismembered by the force of their demise. "You mentioned when we docked that the station had little in the way of defenses, meaning that they were relying on being undetected," she explained. "That, combined with the minimal resistance we faced, indicated that they likely wouldn't have spent extra to coat the door-hinges with cortosis. That the door opened upwards was simply a happy coincidence." The sharp smile she gave him nearly stopped his heart, playful and nearly teasing, shooting straight through his groin. "Besides, I think the display unsettled Master Karr."

"Very likely, my lord," Quinn said.

Alone in his bunk that night, Quinn's thoughts ran away with him. At first he tried to force his thoughts away from her lordship, but they kept circling back. It was late, the rest of the ship was asleep as they headed towards Alderaan for the next step of Baras's plans to corner Karr's apprentice.

He had been pent up since boarding the ship.

No one would know.

Quinn's hand pushed beneath his boxer-briefs and curled around his half-hard cock. He closed his eyes and stroked the to idea of Lord Noicrothatch on her knees. Her perfect black hair in disarray, jewelry glinting in the low light, and mouth wrapped around his cock. His strokes quickened as in the theater of his mind he listened to half-choked moans from the throat of the most powerful woman he'd ever met.

He wanted her attention. He felt desperate for it.

He came with a silent shudder, hips thrusting his cock through the ring of his fingers. Exhaling slowly to bring his heart back down, Quinn cleaned himself up and tilted his head back on his pillow.

Being attracted to his new lord was inconvenient, but not likely to go away. He would proceed in duty and silence, and lust after her only in the dark.

The Black Sky docked at the Rhu Caenus Spaceport on Alderaan. The soft sound of boots behind him warned Quinn of Lord Noicrothatch's approach before her red hand settled on the back of his chair. "I want you to accompany me, Captain," she said.

“Of course, My Lord.” He got up from his chair, straightening his uniform jacket as he did.

She had changed her tube-top out for a long sleeved shirt with puffed sleeves that narrowed at the wrists where her black leather gloves covered them. The neckline dipped, however, preserving his view of the sharp v-shaped ridges that pointed his gaze to her full round breasts before his eyes lifted again to be professional, hopefully before she noticed.

“Have you been to Alderaan before?” her lordship asked as she left the ship, Quinn following at her heels.

“No, my lord. I have not.”

"It's considered the jewel of the core worlds," she said. "A truly stunning landscape marred only by the pettiness of its ruling class. It’s a planet of motivation and simmering tempers held back by the bridle of civility and hidden hedonisms." They reached the airlock. "I haven't been here since I was a girl."

"Your father was a diplomat, I believe," Quinn said.

Her lordship nodded. "He preferred running the family vineyard and tending the orchard, but he had a knack for noticing the weaknesses of others. It made him invaluable in his sphere."

They exited the ship to the bustling dock and people parted before them. It was easy to find Duke Kendoh Thuul and Quinn felt an immediate contempt for the rude little man that was not helped when he ordered the pair of them killed.

"FimmRess," Duke Kendoh said as he sat. "Make these intruders a distant memory, will you?"

FimmRess—a sith who was taller than her lordship and twice as broad—offered her a low and polite bow that was mirrored by the other sith present. "I'm sorry, Duke Kendoh, we are assigned to protect you and support your interests in the struggle for Alderaan, but we serve the Emperor first. We will not cross Dath Baras nor his vassal."

The use of the word 'vassal' was interesting. It was, technically, the more appropriate term. Lord Noicrothatch had been acquired in a power struggle. Darth Baras wasn't training her in any sense.

"Your deference does you credit, FimmRess," Lord Noicrothatch said, returning the bow by tipping her head and bringing her hands up together in thanks.

“We consider you an ally, friend,” FimmRess said.

Her lordship turned her attention back to Kendoh and she raised her brow skeptically as he stammered over himself.

He was a worm, but for the time being, he was a necessary one. "It… seems I may have been hasty regarding your master's needs. How can I make amends?"

"I require information," her lordship said. "You will supply it and then, as an act of good will towards FimmRess and his companions who are charged with your protection, I will forgive your earlier insult."

Duke Kendoh swallowed. "As I recall, Darth Baras wanted information on a girl who was taken off-planet to train with Jedi Master Noman Karr."

"Correct," said her lordship.

"I was to locate her family so that you could, well, send the girl a message."

"And have you?" Lord Noicrothatch asked.

"The truth is, information about this girl is difficult to come by. I managed only one lead. Nomen Karr's padawan fits the description of the former handmaiden of a noblewoman in house Alde named Lady Renata. I'd have questioned her already, but Renata is protected by House Alde's greatest champion…" his words slowed as they left his mouth. Duke Kendoh reached up a hand to his temple and shook his head like he was trying to dislodge something. "The man has—"

"And the truth?" Lord Noicrothatch asked.

Duke Kendoh swallowed hard. "My Lord… I…"

He rose in the air, his hands coming to his throat, not choking, not yet, but being lifted so his toes barely scraped the ground.

"Kendoh," Lord Noictrothatch said with a maternal weariness. "Are you aware of how brain death occurs when the organ is slowly deprived of oxygen? I can describe it to you if you're in need of a reminder, but the short version is that if you attempt to mislead me again I will leave you a vegetable and the Empire will be forced to allow FimmRess and his companions to serve a more worthy master."

Duke Kendoh swallowed. "I… her name is Jaesa Willsaam," he said. "My sources suggested she served Gesselle Organa before the Jedi took her."

"And where can I find Geselle Organa?"

"She's a general now," Duke Kendoh licked his lips with fear as the quick breaths he took dried the skin. "I imagine she'll be on the front lines in the war against House Ulgo."

Lord Noicrothatch dropped him. "Location," she said. "Now."

Duke Kendoh picked himself up and turned to his computer terminal and began to type. "Her headquarters is protected by an impenetrable force field. No firepower can breach it. The force field allows Geselle and her advisors to be stationed very close to the front and maintain a more hands-on command."

Her Lordship nodded. "Clever," she said. "I admire that in another woman."

Duke Kendoh nodded. "A force field needs power to maintain itself, yes?" He took a step towards her like they were confidants and then rocked his weight back on his heels and cleared his throat, dipping his chin respectfully. "I believe I know exactly where Gesselle is getting her juice. If I'm right, you could just walk through the front door."

"And if you're wrong, the consequences will require at least a week in the bacta tank to rectify," Lord Noicrothatch said mildly.

Duke Kendoh cleared his throat. "Almost all power on Alderaan is supplied by the planetary generator. Gesselle must be piggybacking the system to power her force field. Several of my fellows do this to maintain their special security needs. A precise charge at the generator will force fail-safes to fire. The planet won't miss a beat, but ancillary systems like Gesselle's force field will have to be manually reset. Which could take some time."

Lord Noicrothatch turned her attention to Quinn, who straightened automatically. "Your thoughts, Captain?"

Malavai considered the plan. Kendoh was a snake and certainly using her lordship to his own ends, but if the information was accurate, the plan would work. "It's sound, my lord," he said. "If the force field operates on an emergency power tap, when the system transfers to backup sources, the tap will have to be re-engaged."

"Your man knows his stuff," said the Duke.

“Captain Quinn is by far the most capable Imperial I've come across," her lordship said.

Quinn felt heat rush towards his cheeks.

Lord Noicrothatch turned. "FimmRess," she said, lifting her chin slightly. "You will forward the coordinates and known security systems to my ship. My agent will take custody of it and see that the shield is brought down."

"Of course, friend," FimmRess said with a small bow.

"You… won't be going yourself, my lord?" Duke Kendoh asked.

Her lordship turned her head slightly to look at him and the weaselly little man shrank away.

"Come, Captain," she said. "We have a general to meet."

Quinn followed her out of the estate and into the Alderaanian chill. Lord Noicrothatch rolled her shoulders back to release the tension and stretched her neck from one side to the other.

"It will take Vette some time to reach the planetary generator," she said. "We want to be at Gesselle's bunker when it goes down in case she was clever enough to have someone near the tap to re-engage it." She stretched her spine back, fingers beneath her ears near the start of the spurs that shot elegantly down her chin. Her full breasts lifted into the air as she bent and he corrected his attention elsewhere.

He wanted to ask if she'd meant it when she called him the most capable Imperial she'd come across or if it had simply be for Kendoh's behalf. However, he had no idea how to ask, nor how asking would affect her thoughts, so he didn't.

"Captain," she said.

"My lord?"

"I want you to contact the head of our forces here and alert them to our plan with the planetary generator. There may be high value targets behind some of these auxillary systems and we should capitalize on the exposure."

Quinn's chest filled. "At once, my lord."

He tried not to notice the amused little chuckle she gave him for it.

He contacted the higher ups to inform them, allowing the Empire to move into position. Meanwhile, Lord Noicrothatch filled Vette in on her role.

And with that they headed to the thranta stables to fly to the Juran Mountains.

General Organa's bunker was hidden away, but that in part meant there weren't many troops between it and Lord Noicrothatch's assault. As they neared the compound, her lordship tapped her comm—audio only—to speak to Vette.

"We're in position, Woyonuks," she said.

Quinn watched the road ahead and saw the security system go out. "We're in, my lord."

"Well done, darling," Lord Noicrothatch said to Vette. "Head home, we'll meet you there when we're finished." Her lordship lowered her hand from her comm. She gave Quinn a sharp smile and strolled into the compound.

A handful of Organa guards tried to stop them, but her lordship batted them like flies, stepping into the command room where she ripped the blaster out of a man's hand—causing him to scream as his fingers where bent back and ripped from their sockets.

"General Organa," she said, her voice dark and soft.

"Gesselle!" A man, tall, blonde moved automatically between the General and Lord Noicrothatch. "Get behind me."

"I would like to talk about Jaesa Willsaam," her lordship said conversationally.

General Organa stepped around the man trying to protect her. "Did I hear you right? You've perpetuated all this in search of my former handmaiden?"

"There is also a struggle over Alderaan that the Empire has been dipping its toes in," Lord Noicrothatch said. "But yes, Ms. Willsaam is my primary concern."

The General held her head up high. "You have decimated my forces outside. They were to be deployed to secure a part of my front that's about to fall. Now I have no reinforcements. You seek information only I have, and my front needs bolstering. Perhaps we can help each other."

"I admire a woman willing to stare death in the face for her goals," Lord Noicrothatch said. "But I have no interest in playing lackey for you." She extended a hand and the man who had thrown himself in front of General Gesselle began to rise into the air, his breath straining.

Geselle swallowed. "I'm not a commander with a soft heart. My actions are always dictated by the big picture. Even if you destroy my flea of a servant you'll get…"

Lord Noicrothatch gave a bored nod and the man's feet kicked helplessly. He lifted his hands and clawed at his throat. “Flea of a servant? Hmm?”

He made a noise, like air trying to escape a narrow space.

"If her eyes leave him, Captain, give her a warning shot in the right knee."

"Yes, my lord."

“This isn’t working.” Gesselle swallowed. “I’m not so… not so easily… Please! Blenks is my lover!” Gesselle broke. She spilled out information in rambling sentences between breathless pleas until her lordship dropped Blenks.

“Pray your information is useful, General,” her lordship said softly. “Your man gets to live.”

They left the compound, reemerging into the white snow and crisp, clean, air. Lord Noicrotatch turned her attention to Quinn as they left. “She’ll be fortunate if he’s not a vegetable.”

“I assume they’ll get him into kolto quickly.”

“It might not matter," she said easily. "Some people never really recover. Regardless, it should keep her distracted from the war effort. That combined with various shields being brought down should prove valuable. If our forces are clever, this could lead to a decisive victory.”

Quinn felt himself smile. "I will admit that I am impressed, my lord."

She looked at him. "Are you surprised?"

"I have not served you long enough to say," he said, covering.

Her lordship gave a hum, skeptical and teasing, but didn't press.

They fought their way into Castle Organa because there was no other choice, but trying to seize it with just the two of them would have been foolish so they elected to be clever. Bodies were cleared and left out of the way as they proceeded, until at last they found the Willsaams.

The pair were old, dressed neatly but not well—servants. Their faces were lined more with stress and work than with age. Quinn focused his attention on the Jedi with them, waiting to see what he would do.

But it was Lord Noicrothatch who did the unexpected. She clipped her lightsabers to her belt and held her hands up, palms to the ceiling to entreat them. As beautiful and serene as the statue of a goddess of mercy.

She offered them relief from their bonds, to live well and safely in Dromund Kaas. And the Willsaams agreed, rather than die where they were.

The Jedi attempted to intervene and was shut down—not, Quinn felt—that it would have mattered if he'd tried to force the issue. So he was forced to just watch as Lord Noicrothatch, and Quinn, and the servants he had failed to safeguard, just… left.

"Captain," her lordship said, a smile in her tone. "Escort the Willsaams back to the spaceport. I will meet you there and make the arrangements myself."

Quinn gave a short bow and escorted the terrified pair of (former) servants back towards the thranta stables.

"May I ask," Jaesa's father started. "What kind of woman is Lord Noicrothatch?"

Quinn held himself stiffly. "The practical kind," he said. "I have not served her long, but I have never watched her break her word. As long as you are more useful to her alive and within the Empire than dead in the hands of the Republic, you should trust that she will uphold her end of the bargain."

The Willsaam's exchanged a frightened look but were silent for the rest of the trip to the spaceport.

They waited in silence for about half an hour before Lord Noicrothatch joined them. "Apologies," she said. "I had some business with Duke Kendoh and got caught up speaking with FimmRess about his next assignment." She turned her attention to the Willsaams. "Come, We'll have something to eat and I want to hear everything about Jaesa."

Jaesa's mother swallowed hard. "Why? Isn't this… isn't our betrayal enough for you?"

"I don't think killing Jaesa is the solution," Lord Noicrothatch said. "With your help, I can spare her as well." She looked over at Quinn. "Get the ship ready to fly, Captain, we leave when I return."

Her Lordship returned an hour and forty-five minutes later, long enough for Malavai to have something to eat in the cockpit and check his messages to see how his own endeavors were progressing. The smile that pulled at his mouth was sharp and he got up from his chair, leaving his most-empty caf cup on the console.

He carried the datapad with the information he had been waiting for and rapped on the door to her lordship's private quarters.

The door opened and he stepped inside, greeted immediately by Lord Noicrothatch sitting up from where she had been reclining on the bed with her music. Her jet-black hair was down and a loose fitting and near see-through robe drew his eye to the small black negligee she was wearing.

He cleared his throat. Focus. "My lord."

“Captain?” she replied.

“I apologize for the interruption, but the information is time sensitive.” He lifted his chin and kept his eyes fixed to her face. “My efforts to locate SIS Agent Voloren have paid off. There is a small window of opportunity to confront him. I can handle the matter personally; permission to intercept and bring him down?”

She nodded. “There’s no time to waste. He must be stopped.” Her eyes were like candles in the dim red light.

“I appreciate your decisiveness, my lord.” Malavai saluted. “The Empire will finally be served. I’ll return shortly.”

“Holo for our location,” Her lordship instructed. “We will likely be on Tatooine.” She rose off the mattress, liquid grace in inky black. Moving to the small bar she kept along one wall of her quarters, she removed the cap of a crystal bottle of purple spirit. She poured herself a drink and lifted the highball glass in a salute. "Good hunting, Captain. Try to enjoy yourself."

She smiled as she took a sip.

Chapter Text

Quinn cornered Voloren in a shuttle bay, the lights of the ship flashed as an automated voice told them to get to the escape pods. He shot the Agent in the knee to keep him from running and then in back, causing the Republic spy to topple forward, onto his face with a grunt. Quinn stalked forward and kicked the other man’s blaster to the side.

Voloren rolled over onto his back, looking up at the barrel of Quinn's gun. Malavai permitted himself a moment to relish the terror on his enemy's face before he planted three blaster bolts in it. Victorious, he commandeered a small craft and made his escape, all told a job well done.

The elation lasted as he holoed The Black Sky for their location and it dimmed only when he was met with Vette and not with her lordship herself.

Which wasn't… surprising. He tried to mitigate his disappointment because there was no reason Lord Noicrothatch would have answered the holo herself.

“Great, it’s you,” Vette said, rolling her eyes. “Faaaaaalllloooon.”

“I will assume you are only so informal because it’s Captain Quinn on the other end,” Lord Noicrothatch called from out of view.

“Obviously.” Vette left and Lord Noicrothatch appeared in her place, looking somewhere between exasperated and amused. Her full lips pulled up into a smile and she gave a small shake of her head, yellow eyes closed, as it to say ah, children.

The result made her seem more grounded in reality, less like the Sith he had interacted with in the past. “My lord.” Quinn inclined his head in deference. “I’m pleased to report Agent Voloren’s decade of espionage has been brought to an end. It is a great day for the Empire.”

Lord Noicrothatch offered him a small clap, her expression bright and warm. "Well done, Captain. It’s not every day you get to close the book on an old score.”

“It was long overdue. Thank you for allowing me to pursue this, my lord.”

“Ensure that you get credit,” she said. “You said you had ambitions, I expect you to chase them. In the meantime, however, head for the Mos Ila spaceport on Tatooine.”

“Yes, My Lord. I will meet you there presently.”

The holo clicked off and Quinn stared for a long moment at the space where her face had been. The little smile, the obvious pleasure in her tone.

You said you had ambitions, I expect you to chase them.

He couldn’t help but wonder how high she would let him climb. He’d stopped hungering to be a Grand Moff when his career was almost ruined, but now there was the pang in his stomach and at the corners of his mouth.

If he was loyal to Darth Baras, if he was loyal to Lord Noicrothatch, perhaps they would let him reach the top.

Nar Shaddaa had been unpleasant, but not nearly as much as Tatooine was. From the moment his shuttle touched down at the Mos Ila spaceport it felt like the air itself was trying to choke him. The air itself was blisteringly hot and he could feel himself begin to sweat in his uniform. His skin trying to make up for the utter lack of humidity.

He reached the hangar where The Black Sky was docked and took a brief moment to admire Lord Noicrothatch's bare shoulders. She had left the jacket she usually wore aboard the ship and was in the process of rubbing a protective sun-cream over her well-muscled red arms.

As he got closer, she turned her head to acknowledge him. “You’ll be miserable in that outfit,” she told him. “Lose the undershirt, I know you’d feel out of place without the jacket.”

“I would, my Lord,” Quinn said. “It feels wrong working without the uniform.”

"I wonder if he sleeps in it," Vette said, parked on a stack of crates.

"Woyonuks," Lord Noicrothatch said. She let the mystery endearment linger for a moment before continuing. "Resupply and see if you can pick up any data about Ms. Willsaam. Hopefully this won't take too long."

Vette hopped off the boxes. "The fact that I get to stay in the air conditioning is proof that you love me more than Quinn."

Lord Noicrothatch chuckled.

Quinn changed on the ship, and reemerged feeling strange but cooler and still looking like an Imperial officer. There was something… almost exhibitionist about wearing only the jacket. As though he was secretly naked.

Which he wasn't.

He wasn't sure he entirely disliked the feeling either. Particularly not when her lordship gave him a tiny smile, as though she knew. As if she approved. Quinn cleared his throat and fell into step beside her.

"What is our mission, my lord?" he asked.

"Jaesa trained here with a Jedi Master named Yonlach. He's proven difficult to track down, but one of Baras's tools is supposed to have a better idea."

"Do we know what our contact looks like?"

Lord Noicrothatch looked around and tipped her chin to a young human woman with stark white hair who was rushing up to them. "Were I to put money on the matter, rather like her."

The woman stopped in front of them and placed her hand over her heart, bowing in front of Lord Noicrothatch before looking up at her with wonder and reverence.

Both of which were deserved, but Quinn usually expected a touch more fear in the mix.

"The harsh sands of Tatooine welcome you. I am Sharack Breev. Our lord and master Darth Baras bit me to impart my knowledge of this planet and help you track down the Jedi Master Yonlach."

"What have you heard?" Lord Noicrothatach asked.

"It is not simple, my lord," Breev said. "You will find Master Yonlach by tracing the path the Padawan and her Master took. I can tell you where they started." Her lordship gave a small nod and Breev continued. "I followed them to the forbidden lair of the ancient sand demon, a terrible beast. The Padawan left her weapons and entered alone. Impossibly, she returned unscatched."

"There's more to a Jedi than flashy lightsaber acrobatics," Lord Noicrothatch said. "The Force is a powerful tool."

"I have witnessed the power of the Force, but this goes beyond wonder. The sand demon is the fiercest creature on this planet. You don't just walk into its lair and return without a scratch. I investigated futher, the beast was there, also undamaged—and what''s most perplexing, its skin was glistening."

Breev was an eccentric, Quinn decided, and possibly not that reliable. For starters, he was fairly certain that the 'fiercest' beast on Tatooine would have been the Greater Krayt Dragon. Or possibly the womp rats if you were looking for sheer violence without any majesty.

The conversation concluded with the name of a soothsayer who might be able to tell them more. Sharack Breev left and Lord Noictrothatch had her personal speeder lowered down from cargo. She walked it out of the spaceport and into the burning sun.

Quinn fought the need to hesitate before throwing his leg over and setting her hands on her hips. There was a small growl in the back of his mind, the urge to scoot closer and tighten his grip. But, given the twitch in his trousers, it would be profoundly unwise. And it was too hot to be that close regardless.

“Quinn,” her lordship said his name softly. “Scoot up and hold on.”

He obeyed. The thin line of sweat on her crimson shoulders made her skin cool to the touch as his chin accidentally brushed it. The back of her neck—like her sternum—featured descending ridges down her spine. They would have been delightful under his fingers.

He wanted to drink her in.

And that was incredibly inappropriate. He focused on being uncomfortable instead. Uncomfortable was easy. The air was blistering and dusty. There were womp rats a metre long. The speeder vibrated between his legs (and between hers and that wasn't a productive line of thought at all) his jacket was just the slightest bit itchy, not meant to be worn by itself.

The soothsayer was what Quinn had expected from a soothsayer: old, obtuse, likely a waste of time. But Lord Noicrothatch played polite and got the information they needed about where the sand demon's cave was and the next step, which was to bathe in the blood of the beast.

The sand demon's lair was rank, but it was quiet and out of the sun. Quinn followed Lord Noicrothatch deeper in and spotted the demon before it spotted them. It was, indeed, a fiercesome creature. Insectoid—much like the colicoids on Balmorra—but it held its body more horizontal. Like a two layer table covered in spikes.

"My lord," he said, keeping his voice low and moving closer to her. "Permission to speak."

"Granted, of course."

"I have thoughts about our present undertaking," he said. Lord Noicrothatch indicated that he should continue. "I'm not sure what Jaesa Willsaam could have done to avoid a physical confrontation with the sand demon. No doubt some Jedi mind manipulation."

"Are you suggesting the thing in front of us is cognizant, Captain?" she asked with a small smie.

"Most predators are to some degree or another, my lord," he said. "If a girl nascent in the Force can quell the beast, surely you can. And then we can slaughter it with ease."

"Clever," Lord Noicrothatch praised.

"Thank you, my lord, I will back you up."

She tucked her sabers away and walked ahead of him, her pace measured and steady, maintaining easy eye-contact with the monster in front of them.

The sand demon clicked and roared, but Lord Noicrothatch remained unmoved.

“I will not run,” she said evenly, neither shouting nor hissing. Her chin was held high. “This ground is mine and I will hold it.”

The demon clicked again, more quietly, shifting its weight as though unsure of what to do with itself.

“Meet my gaze, monster." Her lordship took a step closer as she was obeyed. “Be at peace.”

The demon slumped to the ground and Lord Noicrothatch ignited her saber and sliced through its carapace with ease. The blood that seeped out was pungent, thick, and rather more copious that Malavai was expecting. Particularly given that lightsabers usually cauterized.

"I’ve never seen a creature bleed so much. It seems we are really intended to bathe in its blood.” He watched with muted horror and fascination as her lordship whipped off her gloves. She knelt and smeared the thick liquid over her arms and chest, leaving them glistening.

“If you are concerned about stains, Captain,” her eyes were bright. “I would leave your jacket with the speeder and carry on without it.”

The stench was foul, he focused on that as he undid the buttons and permitted—not that he could have stopped her—Lord Noicrothatch to dribble the blood over his shoulders.

He tried not to breathe, both to spare himself the smell and to keep his breath from catching as she smeared the blood with her fingers, increasing the coverage and painting over him.

It had been… a very long time since someone had touched him really. much less a woman he was undeniably attracted too.

She stepped back and surveyed her work. "I will say, Captain, blood red is a good look on you."

He cleared his throat.

Lord Noicrothatch turned on the ball of her foot and headed out towards the sand people's village.

The blood dried almost immediately in the desert sun and was both brighter and less foul the less wet it got. As they approached the village, the sand people fled.

Lord Noicrothatch barely seemed to notice, as if an entire village fleeing before her was commonplace. And stars, it might have been.

Breev met them at the center of the village and then followed as Lord Noicrothatch identified the lodgings of the chieftain, which would logically be more comfortable.

Breev's eyes were wide as they drank in the blood painted over both Sith and servant. “I could not believe my eyes,” she said breathlessly. “The Sand People all ran from you. What transpired within the Sand Demon’s cave to make this so?”

“The beast is slain,” Her lordship answered easily.

“You’ve bathed in the blood,” Breev’s mouth fell open in wonder, eyes tracing the red patterns on Quinn’s shoulders, where they stood out more starkly than on Lord Noicrothatch's. “Its essence fills the air. Izeebowe said your path would be illuminated he—”

"My lord," Quinn interrupted softly as the skin that made up the door moved. A sand person was standing in the doorway, clutching something in his fist.

“The Shaman,” Breev clarified, stepping back.

The Shaman shuffled, face down, towards where Lord Noicrothatch had made herself comfortable on the bedding and extended shaking hands to offer her a weathered parchment. When she took it, the shaman backed out the way he'd come, trembling all the way.

“My lord?” Quinn asked.

“It’s a map, crude, but clear enough." Lord Noicrothatch offered the map to Breev. “You are our guide.”

“Yes.” Breev studied the pictures and nodded to herself. “It marks a door carved into the side of the Desert Wound Ravine.” She frowned and shook her head. “I’ve mapped the Ravine, there is no such door.”

“It might be a special door." Lord Noicrothatch's eyes found Qunn's for just a moment and he felt his heart thump. "Sometimes there's a trick to it." She turned her eyes back to Breev. "Regardless, if Jaesa went, we must follow.”

“I shudder to think what awaits you there,” Breev insists. “Here are the coordinates, I will follow, stealthed. The ravine marks the farthest I or anyone I know have gone in the desert.”

“Well, that will be exciting.” Lord Noicrothatch's mouth quirked into a small smile. “And an issue for tomorrow. For tonight, we camp.” Still settled on the Shaman’s mat, her lordship located a scrap of cloth. Using sand as an abrasive, she began scrubbing the blood from her skin.

Malavai excused himself to do the same, and offer her some privacy. His mind wandered as he scrubbed he blood off of his skin. Tatooine was inhospitable to those who knew it, much less offworlders like themselves. He wasn’t sure what they would eat; there were some rations in a compartment on the speeder but he had always felt very strongly that rations were to be used after foraging in case of an emergency. The cave they were in, while better than being out in the open, was the home of sand people who would likely want it back. Moreover, the lack of clouds during the day meant that the night would likely be frigid.

(And even with all of that he pictured her lordship rubbing sand over her breasts and shoulders to clean them. The expression of determined discomfort on her face.)

Quinn pulled on his jacket and buttoned it up. Protected and professional once more.

Breev was gone when he returned to the Shaman's hut.

"My lord," he inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"Sharack went to find something for us to eat," she said. "So we have a little bit of time to ourselves."

Quinn nodded.

Her lordship gestured to the mat beside her.

“The night will be cold, My Lord.” Quinn said, stepping to her side but falling into parade rest, rather than sitting.

“Yes, I know," Lord Noicrothatch said. "So, tell me about your conquest over Voloren.” Her smile was sharp. “And sit, I don’t want to have to look up at you.”

At that, he settled near her but still not on the mat. He delivered his report, the relevant information about the system he'd tracked Voloren to, how long the engagement took, what he'd gleaned about Voloren's plans.

“Malavai."

He startled a little. People didn't use his first name, at least not on its own and not with a touch of bemused exasperation. He looked over to his liege. “When I want a report, I will read one. I want the story. I want to know how it felt to look into the eyes of an enemy denied you for ten years and finally finish him.”

“Apologies, my lord.” He fell silent with shame, unsure if he should start over and less sure of how he would even do that. He chanced a glance back at her, skin shiny and raw from her sand bath.

She was stunning, in the literal sense. She left him floundering.

“We’ll be warmer if we sleep together,” Lord Noicrothatch said. “The three of us.”

Quinn nodded, his eyes pointed forward, trying to keep his ears from burning.

He was almost forty. This was insane.

“Yes, my lord. I would suggest that Breev take the middle. She’s the smallest. Or you, my lord, as the most important.”

“I’m the least at risk of freezing, Captain.” She lit the fire and stretched back. “Early sith training involves a lot of mitigating outside factors. When I was…." she hummed. "Twelve or eleven, I suppose, my father had business on Alderaan and my mother left me in the Juran mountains for three days. I had a comm, of course, but I was so proud that I wasn't going to call them for anything short of a catastrophe." There was a smile in how she said it, a happy memory. "The Force is a powerful tool, and it makes an excellent blanket if you're smart enough to sleep on something that isn't the bare ground."

"What did you sleep on, my lord?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"A vorn tiger," she answered. "My parents kept the pelt. It's in Vette's room these days."

Breev returned shortly after with some meat (Quinn decided that it was probably best not to ask what kind) and cooked it over the fire as the air started to cool. Soon, the smell of roasting meat filled the air, overpowering the traces of sand demon blood.

Malavai ate and Lord Noicrothatch beckoned Breev to her and explained in low, soft, tones, the plan for the evening. Breev nodded her agreement and Quinn felt a twitch in his trousers as Lord Noicrothatch's long red fingers traced Breev's hairline and her yellow eyes and sharp smile turned almost predatory.

After both women had eaten, Lord Noicrothatch stretched herself out on the bedding and then rolled over to curl around Breev as the younger woman joined her, pulling the blankets they'd gathered up around her shoulder. Lord Noicrothatch's eyes are bright in the dark. “See you in the morning, Captain.”

Quinn spent a long few minutes sitting up. He put another log on the fire and then decided that he wouldn't be any use at all if he froze to death. So he settled on his back on the other side of Breev and set his hands on his stomach, hoping for a few hours of black before the day began.

In the night Breev curled her arm around him, shifting to use his shoulder as a pillow and it jerked him awake just enough that he turned his head and met her lordship's eyes for the briefest moment. She shrugged one shoulder and inched closer, her long limbs wrapped around Breev to leech the heat from their guide. Breev made a small noise, almost desperate, high in the back of her throat. Quinn cleared his throat and counted backwards until he fell back asleep.

Her breath is hot in his ear, her red hands twisted in his uniform jacket. Her lips are bloodslick when they press to his. There’s blood on his hands, Voloren’s blood, when he cups her cheeks and drinks her in, tasting rust and apnack on her tongue. He leaves red smears like make-up over her cheekbones and they are glossy in the light. Lord Noicrothatch's sharp teeth rake across his lower lip when they part. She sinks to her knees—all poise and all grace and all his—and runs her tongue along the length of his cock. She takes him apart by inches, feverish and hot. He thrusts into her mouth, gripping her perfect hair with his bare hands until he cums and she withdraws, yellow eyes teasing up at him. She licks blood off her upper lip, inviting him to taste it himself.

Quinn was the first one awake.

The dream lingered for a few moments and he surreptitiously checked that both of the women beside him were asleep and that he hadn’t ruined his pants. They were and he hadn’t, though he was painfully erect.

Quinn slowly disentangled himself from Breev’s embrace and slid out from under the covers, shivering just a little. The cold was good. He headed outside to relieve and relieve himself. It would be warm again soon, and then too hot.

He returned in short order, in time to watch the blankets stir.

Her lordship shifted as she woke up, her long black hair down around her shoulders. She sat up and stretched, yawning like a cat and utterly unaffected by discomfort or circumstance. Her eyes met Quinn’s and then lifted from his eyes to his hair—still uncombed—and the smile on her mouth warmed just a little and made him feel extremely self-conscious.

Quinn took the opportunity—as her lordship adjusted her hair—to manage his own as surreptitiously as possible.

“Have something to drink, Quinn,” Lord Noicrothatch said, offering him the canteen—which he took gratefully. “And then let’s see what secrets are hidden in this ravine.”

All through their morning preparations, Quinn kept expecting her to comment on his condition in the night, but if she noticed, she didn’t seem compelled to anything. Perhaps with Breev there she simply hadn’t noticed.

Quinn settled on the back of Lord Noicrothatch's speeder and considered that he had never been this distracted while working in his life. It might very well be heat exhaustion. Heat exhaustion would be less inconvenient. At least it hadn’t seemed to detract from his efficiency. Lord Noicrothatch had voiced no complaints and even implied her general pleasure with him.

Which yes, might be the problem.

Efficacy over all, however, had not been effected. And if at any point it was, he would ask to be reassigned.

The Oasis pool was still and crystalline blue, desperately inviting in the heat. Quinn settled at parade rest as small way back from the shore in the shade of a rare tree.

Her lordship knelt at the water. Quinn watched as her breathing slowed, the familiar sight of her sinking into a meditative state. Movement caught his eye and drew it futher over the pool and up as a double of her rose from the water to deride her for being a monster. The reflection glowed with a soothing blue light.

“Malavai,” Lord Noicrothatch said his name with a lover’s tenderness as she stood. She didn't go for a weapon, but she brought her hands up, clenched to fists, and adjusted her stance to that of a brawler. “Stay out of this.”

Quinn swallowed. "Yes, my lord."

The matched pair of sith leapt for one another, exchanging blow and block, sweeping out and snarling. Blue and red and black swimming together over the pair of them until Quinn couldn't tell which was which. One of the two caught her double by the throat and slammed her into the dirt, pinning her in place and baring her teeth. “This, is passion,” she growled. “Fury. Strength. You will relent.”

The glowing imitation cried out, but not with pain. Her head tilted back and she dissipated with a swoon, absorbed into Lord Noicrothatch’s very skin.

Lord Noicrothatch straightened and rolled her shoulder and then her neck, stretching a little. “The Forbidden Pass,” she said. “We’re nearing our quarry.”

“Did—” Breev blinked, stepping out from the shadow. Quinn startled a little, having been so absorbed in the watching that he didn't notice her arrival. “What did I just watch? Did you just tell yourself to venture through the Forbidden Pass?”

“Yes,” her lordship replied.

“I am chilled to the bone." Breev curled her arms around herself like it would shield her from some unknown horror. "The desert beyond the Forbidden Pass is an area that no one can survive. No one. Even the Sand People dare not go. You mustn’t go.”

Her lordship chuckled, a low, deep sound. She stepped over to Breev and pet the younger woman's cheek with her gloved hand. Breev leaned into the touch and Lord Noicrothatch's thumb tapped her lip. “And yet I will.”

“No,” Breev whined. “This isn’t some silly superstition, I cannot, I will not follow you there.”

Her lordship tilted Breev’s chin up and pressed her mouth to the younger woman’s while Quinn’s eyes widened. The kiss was deep and hungry and Breev groaned with disappointment as it ended. “I’ve appreciated your assistance to this point, I will tell Baras you served well.”

“With—” Breev swallowed and licked her lips. “With a heavy heart I give you the location of the Forbidden Pass. I fear I will never see you again.”

Her Lordship turned to look at Quinn and her expression became immediately bemused. He forced himself to relax. "My lord?"

“Come, Captain. We have a Jedi to slaughter.” She forged past, back to the speeder.

“My lord.” Quinn found his tongue as he caught up with her. “May I ask—”

“You didn’t hear us last night?” Lord Noicrothatch asked, her eyes bright and teasing. “And here I thought Sharack grabbing your chest in her passions would have given us away.” She threw her leg over the speeder. “She was quiet, however, which was what I wanted most.”

“Last night,” he said, disbelieving.

“She moved my hand in her sleep,” Lord Noicrothatch explained. “When I woke her to check, she was still interested. I’m sith, I feed off my passions.”

“I had no idea you were attracted to women, My Lord.”

“I prefer women in every sense," she told him. "When I do happen to be attracted to a man he has to be fascinating for me to deign to act on it."

Settling on the back behind her, Quinn wondered if he was fascinating. If the flirting was a means to an end. If he wanted it to be a means to an end.

He wanted to be fascinating. To her, specifically.

Master Yonlach's hut was nestled amidst the sea of sand. Quinn's high collar was soaked with sweat as followed Lord Noicrothatch into the small building.

A younger, broader man turned to the door as they entered. "Master Yonlach, the Sith you've been tracking is upon us. Retreat to safety. I will take the intruder on!"

"My," Lord Noicrithatch said with a sigh. "Aren't you enthusiastic?"

"No, Yul-li, control your feelings." From the back of the hut a figure moved, getting up off the floor and making his way over. Older, wisened, very slight. "I will face this trespasser."

"Master Yonlach," Lord Noicrothatch greeted. "It's hard to see you behind your trained gundark. Perhaps he should go sit outside while we conduct our business.

The master's expression darkened, stopping short of a proper glare. "I know why you've come. Master Nomen Karr's padawan threatens you somehow. You seek to flush her into the open and silence her."

"I am here for Jaesa, yes," her lordship said. "You don't really need to know more than that."

"She came to me for guidance, and the bond we struck was the most profound of my life."

Quinn watched Lord Noicrothatch's posture change from moderately interested to tense—ready to strike.

"We are psychically linked, she and I," Master Yonlach continued. "And I have already warned her about you. She will not fall for your manipulations."

"My manipulations?" Lord Noicrothatch said with the dark edge of a laugh. "Not the master using her or the parents trying to marry her off? Not the Lady using her talents to out-maneuver her rivals?"

Master Yonlach's expression shifted a little, his jaw clenching.

"Tell her I'll see her soon, and she need no longer be bound to broken old men." She drew her lightsaber and ignited it. "Captain, focus the apprentice."

"You face us alone," Master Yonlach raised his hand and Quinn fell into blackness.

Malavai woke with his head elevated slightly and someone humming. He opened his eyes and looked up into the face of Lord Noicrothatch, realizing that his head was settled in her lap.

"You're awake," she said.

Quinn picked himself up and looked around. The signs of the fight were impressive, not a piece of furniture remained unscathed—Yul-li was missing an arm and a leg, Yonlach's torso was half behind a chest and half beside his desk. The stink of charred skin and hair and fabric filled the room.

Quinn adjusted his uniform, looking around and trying to forget the near serenity of Fallon’s features when his eyes had first opened. “My Lord, I’m sorry I was of no use to you. I did not expect the Jedi’s incapacitating tactic.” He frowned. Being caught by surprise was the worst feeling.

“You’re too hard on yourself.” She followed him to standing and kicked the orphaned leg away from her. “I fight better when angry.”

Angry at him or because he was targeted? In addition to it being good data should Darth Baras require it, he was also just… curious. “I’m just thankful my support proved to be unnecessary," he said. "Sharack Breev said she would meet us at our ship. She thought we were doomed. We should inform her of our success.”

“She’ll be so surprised."

Quinn snorted. “She should not have doubted you.”

"Generally," her lordship said. They exited the hut and reached the speeder that they had parked some small distance away.

"You seem to be in a pleasant mood, my lord."

"We're a step closer to greeting the enigmatic Ms. Willsaam," Lord Noicrothatch answered. "And I do enjoy kicking in the teeth of old Jedi who try to lecture me. A girl must have her passtimes."

He smiled despite himself. "Yes, my lord." Footsteps on the sand pulled Quinn's attention briefly back to the hut where he watched a slight figure in pale brown and dark green head into the hut.

Lord Noicrothatch settled on the speeder and Quinn settled behind her. They were starting to pull away when her lordship straightened. She reached back and grabbed his hand, pulling it onto the handlebar.

"My lord—"

"You're going to need to drive," she said a warm, wistfulness filling her tone as someone screamed behind them.

Her lordship rolled off the speeder suddenly and when Quinn managed to turn the vehicle around she was clashed in combat with a much younger man. The young jedi (presumably) flung himself at her with speed and fury and Lord Noicrotatch blocked, fighting defensively in a way Quinn had never seen.

Generally, Lord Noicrothatch favored overwhelming offense but here it seemed she was toying with the young man. Perhaps, as Quinn drew closer, because he couldn't have been much more than a teenager.

The jedi missed a parry, allowing Lord Noicrothatch to close. Her boot slammed onto his foot, holding him in place while she used her superior height and weight to bear him to the ground. She twisted his lightsabers out of his hands and hurled them into the desert before standing and slamming her foot down on the boy's lower leg. He screamed as the tibia snapped.

"Quiet," her lordship said. Not a snap, but a simple command. "It's to keep you from following me. A week in the bacta tank and it shouldn't do more than twinge." She snapped her lightsabers back to her belt and then levitated the boy up and carried him into Master Yonlach's hut.

"Put me down!" The youth tried to twist in her grasp to no avail.

"If I leave you in the sun with a broken leg you will roast," she said. "Hush."

The boy was stick thin and wiry and he went limp out of sheer petulance.

Like lolth-cat going boneless.

When Quinn followed her into the hut, Lord Noicrothatch had set the youth up on some pillows.

"Why are you doing this?" the jedi snapped. Quinn echoed the sentiment, but remained quiet.

"Sparing you?" Lord Noicrothatch asked to confirm.

The young jedi nodded.

Lord Noicrothatch set a canteen of water and a ration bar beside him. "I see a future in you," she said. "One I find curious." She smiled a little. "And it's been… oh… fifteen years since I've seen lightsaber skills like that. It would a shame to cut your development short."

The padawan growled at her. Actually growled.

Lord Noicrothatch chuckled and then turned back to Quinn. "Captain."

Quinn looked down at the Jedi, meeting the boy's glaring silver eyes, and then looked back at her lordship. "At once, my lord."

It was dark and growing cold when Quinn and Lord Noicrothatch reached the Mos Ila Spaceport. Sharack Breev was waiting in the hangar, speaking to Vette who had her arms crossed and was clearly unimpressed about something.

"Woyonuks," Lord Noicrothatch said, lifting her voice.

Vette turned. "You're back!"

"Yes, darling, I'm sorry for the delay. Would you start caf? I think I want some with my brandy tonight and I want to hear all of your adventures while I was out."

Sharack Breev turned as Vette headed aboard. Her composure slipped, knees clearly weak as she studied Lord Noicrothatch and babbled about how inspired she was.

“I will remember you fondly as well,” Lord Noicrothatch offered and then gestured for Breev to leave.

Quinn’s posture relaxed as soon as Breev was out of sight. “It will be good to put this overheated sandbox behind us, my lord.”

She eyed him, sharp smile on her mouth. “You look good with a tan, Captain,” she teased .

“I hope it hides my blushes, my lord," he said it as dryly as possible.

“It does not,” she observed. “Which may be my favorite thing about it.”

The ship was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound. Quinn couldn’t sleep, pinned to his sheets by the knowledge that, just the other night, Lord Noicrothatch had rubbed Breev raw against him and he’d never noticed. Never suspected.

Because he’d been determined not to look down, not to notice anything. Because he needed to remain professional. But currently he was in his quarters, the door shut and locked and it was easy enough to relieve his own tension. Behind his eyes the scene played out differently than it must have in life. Fallon’s long red fingers work in Breev, the younger woman writhing against her, stifling her cries by biting into Quinn’s jacket.

When he came he cleaned himself off and sat up out of bed, now far too awake to return to sleep and only an hour or so ahead of schedule. He pulled on his pants and undershirt and headed for the fresher, stopping when he noticed a dim light on near the little lounge and music.

The tune was soft, one of the arias her lordship loved so much. A gentle piece sung in ancient sith by a woman with a high, airy voice.

He paused as he noticed Lord Noicrothatch reading, her near translucent sleeping robe draped over her frame, accenting the crimson of her skin. She was picturesque with her hair down and a cup of steaming caf on the table in front of her.

Quinn looked back into his room, wondering if he should grab his jacket. If he should try and look a little more professional than his undershirt and pants made him. This was the trouble in living in close quarters with one’s Commanding officer.

“Care to join me, Quinn?” her lordship said, her yellow eyes lifting off the datapad briefly before dropping back down.

“I had intended to use the refresher, my lord,” Quinn straightened as he spoke. “Perhaps after?”

“Of course.” She sets the datapad aside as he passed her and offered a small, chiding sigh. When he looked she is wearing a teasing smile. “You know, you could drop the stoic soldier routine when it's just the two of us. I wouldn't mind a little attention.”

Quinn froze.

Her eyes brightened.

He swallowed. “I’m not sure what you mean, my lord.”

He knew exactly what she meant. He knew exactly what kind of attention he wanted to show her.

Had he cried out? Had she heard him?

“Don’t tell me I’m not your type.” She raised her cup to her lips.

“Indeed not,” Quinn answered, almost too quickly. “You are not a type, my lord. You are a wholly unique woman.” He cleared his throat. “I am unused to balancing business and pleasure. I am here to do a job.”

She took a drink and set her cup down, lifting her datapad in its place. “So you’ve said. If you’re not interested, Quinn, simply say so.” The entire action felt dismissive. “Enjoy your shower.”

Chapter Text

A few days passed aboard The Black Sky in relative peace, the three passengers waiting for word from Darth Baras about Jaesa Willsaam's whereabouts. Quinn kept to himself mostly, replaying her lordship's offer—if it could be called that—and listening to the music that filtered through the air.

He received a message while her lordship was issuing a standard status report to Darth Baras. The reports weren't necessary—Quinn was present to alert his master about any inconsistencies—but he supposed the routine was meant to keep Lord Noicrothatch at ease.

He didn't think it was working, however.

Quinn wasn't an idiot, he knew how the sith worked. Likely someday Lord Noicrothatch would turn on Darth Baras and Quinn had been placed as insurance against that. The tensions between them were already building. It seemed to be as much a philosophical dispute as it was the younger lord pulling at the reins. And, as she explained her problems with their master, Quinn was distressed to realize that he understood, sympathized, and worse, even agreed, with many of her points.

She was building a power base and he was keeping an eye on it. But serving her felt more natural than any previous posting in his life.

Quinn queued up the recording and headed for the lounge where the Sith were finishing up. He frowned at Vette where she was lying upside down on the settee, again, her lekku spilling out on the floor.

Inappropriately casual for their situation and locations.

Vette stuck her tongue out and he bit down on reminding her that she was a woman of twenty not a child of nine because he suspected at least some of the reasoning behind her behaviour was trying to goad him. And he wasn't going to let her.

“My lord,” he said as the call ended. “I thought it prudent not to interrupt Darth Baras. We’ve received a recorded transmission, it is queued when you are ready.”

"Play it, Captain," she instructed.

The holo clicked on, presenting them with a human woman, perhaps a little younger than Vette. Her brown hair hung around her shoulders and her clothes were of simple make—jedi robes, probably—devoid of ornamentation. However, she held herself well and spoke with a strong, clear voice, introducing herself immediately as Jaesa Willsaams.

"My master," she said. "Nomen Karr, has no idea I'm sending this message." Her shoulders slumped subtly. "Let's be real—we both know that this isn't about us. Our masters pretend otherwise, but this is personal. You and I are only pawns in their private war and those I care about are caught in the middle. It has to stop."

“Gotta give it to her,” Vette said, watching the holo. “She’s sure got guts.”

"She certainly has," Lord Noicrothatch said. "Imagine if she managed to unchain herself."

“I sense… I don't know what I sense. You spared my parents but you killed Master Yonlach… I don't know what to believe." the recording continued. "Maybe you’re as tired of all this passive-aggressive foolishness as I am. This message includes coordinates where I’ll be waiting in my ship. Let’s discuss this face-to-face, no more nonsense.”

The message ended and Lord Noicrothatch turned to face her miniscule crew. “Impressions?” she asked, looking first to Quinn.

“It could be a trap, my lord. Nomen Karr could have put her up to it.”

“Oh, don’t listen to Captain Paranoid,” Vette huffed. “I believe her.”

Her lordship nodded, but kept her own assessment of the situation private. “Keep this between us for now, Baras will be informed when I deem it so.” Her eyes fixed pointedly on Quinn’s. “No need to worry, Captain, I don’t intend to keep it to myself for long. Put the coordinates in but don't adjust our heading yet." Her posture and demeanor softened a little. "We have business first on Nar Shaddaa."

Vette bounced a little, just the small movement on the balls of her feet, beaming like a small sun as she followed Lord Noicrothatch back towards the sleeping quarters.

Nar Shaddaa was nominally on the way to the coordinates Jaesa Willsaam had given them. Quinn didn't ask for details, and her lordship didn't offer any, but he did find it noteworthy when she left the ship with Vette instead, leaving him to watch the Black Sky.

The hours passed uneventfully, but gave him a chance to think. It was quiet. Generally, he appreciated the quiet, but the nagging question of where she and Vette had gone and what they were up to lingered.

He didn’t need to know, but he also didn’t like not knowing. Being caught off guard was his least favorite state.

Moreover, than that, he realized as the hours pass, he had grown accustomed to her lordship’s presence. Despite it only being most of a day, every time he moved through the lounge he was surprised when she wasn’t reclined on the settee reading or listening to Vette’s chatter. The soft sound of Opera that often carried through the air shafts was missing. She wasn’t standing behind his seat, watching the stars.

It had been months since Balmorra and so it wasn't surprising that he had acclimated to her presence. The only surprise was that, as opposed to other people he had worked with, Quinn found that he missed her.

Which was probably not a good thing.

He checked firing algorithms and ran automated tests of most of The Black Sky's systems until laughter filled the ship, signalling the return of her lordship and a very amused Vette.

The sound grew closer and he turned his head as Lord Noicrothatch came up behind his chair. She extended an apnack to him. “You seemed to enjoy them.”

He nodded and took the fruit, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Yes, My Lord.” He didn’t add that they had been a childhood favorite. That they were one of pieces of home he missed most. “I trust your mission was a success?” Quinn looked up and found that her eyes are warm, cheeks flushed to a shade darker which made the gold around her eyes stand out more starkly. A single strand of perfect hair was out of place, curled against her forehead. The effect was striking.

“Vette is grinning like a newborn star," she said, stepping away and leaning against the wall, looking content and pleased. “And it has been a while since I celebrated. I forgot my fondness for Nar Shaddaan ice wine. Take us out, Captain.”

“Right away, My Lord.” He plugged in the take-off sequence and waited for the go ahead from the landing crew. To his quiet pleasure, her lordship lingered in the cockpit as they took off.

Had she missed him as well, he wondered.

"At once, my lord."

Quinn followed Lord Noicrothatch onto Jaesa Willsaam's ship and couldn't muster any surprise when instead of the padawan they were hunting they found a pair of Jedi waiting for them instead. He cast a surreptitious glance at her lordship and saw that she wasn't particularly stunned either. In fact, she simply sighed and gave the more talkative of the two an irritated glare.

Her glower cleared in short order and turned into a mocking smile. “You want to kill me,” she almost laughed as she said it. “You’d be disappointed if I gave up.”

“Not at all,” the larger, calmer of the two Jedi said. “We don’t go around picking fights.”

This was patently untrue of the Jedi in Quinn’s experience, but he remained silent, hand near but not on his blaster as he stood a half-step behind her lordship, just to her right, where he could fire unimpeded if required.

“I wouldn’t trust it if a sith surrendered,” the shorter one told his companion. “I prefer the sureness of death.”

Quinn watched the way her lordship's weight shifted to be non-aggressive and he adjusted his own posture to match.

“True Jedi don’t attack to kill,” she said, tilting her head slightly to the side. “The light side of the Force demands temperance.”

She was calm, stoic.

In contrast, the brasher jedi flew into a rage, starting to shout. “Who are you to lecture about the light side? The Sith force us to take measures like this!”

"I'm not forcing you to do anything," Lord Noicrothatch said. "I came to speak to Ms. Willsaam. You two needn't be a blip on my radar."

“You, Sith, pose an exception,” the larger of the two said, his voice still measured and calm. “Your vile attempts to hurt Nomen Karr and Jaesa Willsaam are provocation enough.”

“Adorable,” her lordship said evenly. “You’re rationalizing your behaviour because you want to fight me. You’re looking for excuses that make it permissible." She shook her head a little. "The shackles your order talks you into, it's such a shame. If I don't attack, there's not much you can do about it, is there? I arrived to speak with Ms. Willsaam, nothing more.”

“That’s enough out of you!” The smaller jedi snapped. “Ulldin! Let’s end this.”

“No, Zylixx. I—” The larger jedi dropped his gaze, resolve shaken. “I am unsure. Master Kaar claims this Sith means Jaesa harm, but we have no proof. We know that Jaesa reached out herself. If the sith has come in peace…”

“Master Karr’s word is proof enough. I have no crisis of conscience assuming his assessment is sound.”

"Master Karr is harboring something of a grudge against Darth Baras," her lordship supplied. "I wouldn't have thought it was personal—Jedi aren't supposed to do that—but it does seem like something happened between them while Master Karr was undercover."

Ulldin paused, hesitating.

"I'm not suggesting Master Karr broke your code in his heart of course, simply saying that he may have needed to put on quite the act. Sith are famously debaucherous."

Quinn blinked, trying very hard not to process her allegations.

Ulldin swallowed and then turned. “I will not engage. I must walk away and I urge you to do the same.”

Ulldin left and, to Quinn’s surprise, her lordship allowed it, instead focusing on Zylixx. Quinn remembered her assessment of General Gesselle, how sometimes it was better to break an enemy than to destroy them. Ulldin’s faith in his code had been shaken and now there was only one adversary.

It was clever, even if it meant letting a Jedi walk away unharmed.

“You may have derailed Ulldin’s resolve, Sith,” Zylixx spit the title out from between his teeth. “But your luck ends here. I’ll take you on myself.”

Lord Noicrothatch's saber was in her hand in a moment, brilliant red and black against the Republic trappings that decorate the ship. “If you think you're quick enough. By all means."

The Jedi was all agility and speed, but he was distracted, uneasy, letting his eyes dart for the person who should have been watching his back. He swung wildly, trying to hammer at her lordship's defenses, but she fought almost like she was proving a point. She moved backwards defensively and when the moment was right her eyes flashed to Quinn’s and he took the shot, sending a blaster bolt through the back of the jedi's head and dropping him instantly.

Lord Noicrothatch stepped backwards once more to keep her boots out of the blood. “Excellent shot, Captain.”

“My pleasure, my lord.” He gave her a small, pleased, bow. “But, if I may ask, why?”

“Humiliation.” She explained simply, jacket whipping behind her as she turned and started back towards the airlock.

Quinn nearly had to jog to keep up, careful to keep his boots clear of the pooling blood. There wasn't much harm in leaving a trail, but there’s also no point to it.

“The Jedi will find him—a knight of their order—and see that it wasn’t a sith who killed him. It was his own lack of focus, his own arrogance. The abandonment of his fellow.” Her smile was sharp and cruel. “Not just anyone could have pulled it off, however. Regardless of how off-guard the Jedi was, that was a very clean shot. Well done.”

He smiled. "Thank you, my lord."

When they returned to the ship Quinn's attention was taken by the blinking light on the holoterminal. "Disengage the airlock, Captain," she said. "I'll inform you of our next heading."

"Yes, my lord." He gave a short bow and returned to the cockpit to begin separating them from Jaesa Willsaam's ship.

As little as a few moments later, Lord Noicrothatch entered the cockpit, her irritation writ large in the line of her shoulders.

"My lord?" he asked.

"Take us to Hutta," she said. "Darth Baras feels he has 'outgrown' his feud with Nomen Karr and so it falls to me to handle it."

Quinn's fingers moved automatically, inputting the coordinates. "Perhaps, my lord, Darth Baras expects your presence to take Master Karr off-balance."

She gave a small, disdainful snot. "More likely Darth Baras knows that he doesn't stand a chance against the other man in a straight fight and is cowering beneath the caul of disinterest to hide it."

The immediate urge to rush to Darth Baras's defense was quelled largely by knowing that irritating the Sith Lord in the room with him was a mistake.

She touched his shoulder and then swanned out of the cockpit.

Once she was gone, Malavai reached up and set his hand on the faint impressions her touch had left in the fabric.

As little as he had liked Tatooine, Hutta was possibly Quinn’s least favorite planet. Everything about it carried a stench. It was not as hot as Tatooine, but the air compensated by being unbearably humid and carrying the stink of filth. It was more openly criminal than Nar Shaddaa and without the charm of Nar Shadda’s more elegant establishments. As he followed Lord Noicrothatch through Jiguuna's streets he wasn't certain if he’d stepped in waste or mud and he was certainly not about to check.

Her lordship moved as though she didn't notice the smell, the squelching, or the criminal element. Her long coat billowed behind her, lightsabers proudly displayed on her belt. They took a speeder into the swamp, heading for the coordinates Karr had sent to Baras.

Lord Noicrothatch parked and unslung her legs, landing in the mud with a squelch. "No doubt Baras has commandos on stand-by," she said. "I don't know what we'll find inside, but keep your blaster drawn, if lowered."

"My lord," he said affirmatively. He drew his blaster and quickly checked that the battery was full before following her into the hideous metal structure stuck in the swamp.

Nomen Kaar was indeed alone. He looked much the same as the holos Quinn had studied, if more run down. Weary. He gave a disappointed breath to see them instead of Darth Baras, but he notably didn't look surprised. “Your presence tells me that my fellows Ulldin and Zylixx have failed. Pity.” He exhaled a slow, even breath. "I should have known your master couldn’t be trusted."

"You really should have," she said simply.

"As a man of my word, I’m here alone, as agreed upon. Your master shows himself a coward, sending you in his stead.”

“You sound upset, Master Kaar,” her lordship said. “Angry, even.” She made no comment on Baras’s choices or bravery and Quinn wasn’t sure what to think of that. Surely, she ought to have defended the action, after all, sending her had been the smart move and Baras was her master.

But she had made it very clear she harbored nothing but disdain for Darth Baras (hence Quinn's position on her ship, to watch her) and even if she had, he couldn't really picture her being overly concerned with the opinion of a single Jedi master.

“Your crusade has affected me, Sith," Master Karr said. "I’m not blind to that. But I’ve wandered the line between dark and light before. I walked among your master and the sith. My connection to the light survived them. It will survive you.”

“I’m curious.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Did you leave Baras or did Baras discover your allegience and leave you?”

There was that accusation again and it stuck in Quinn’s thoughts. They really did act like something had happened.

“There isn’t time for reminiscing. Whatever adulterated version your master told you will have to suffice.”

“My Master,” Lord Noicrothatch said with a chuckle. “Stars, you can’t even bring yourself to use his name, can you? I'm starting to suspect it's the latter. The real question then then becomes were you more heartbroken or humiliated? I can see both.”

Karr’s nostrils flared. “Once you are out of the way Jaesa will provide the proof I need to open the council’s eyes and expose Baras’s network of spies.”

She ignited her sabers and Quinn stepped back, bringing his blaster up.

“Another foolish old man," she said. "I really ought to start collecting your heads." There was a cruel twist her movements. "Either head, I suppose."

By this point, Quinn was familiar with the way her lordship fought. Lord Noicrothatch was more brawn than acrobatics. She was s tall, reasonably broad, and strong, and she brought it all to bear. His blaster shots served as little more than a well-placed annoyance as she darted in and slid low, clicking one saber off as she slipped beneath the jedi's guard. Karr’s blade passed over her head but he caught her in the chin with his knee. They were locked in combat that was more of a brawl than it was the spectacle Quinn was used to from Force users.

The first time she beat Karr down, her lordship flung him across the room. Karr hit the far wall and screamed. The red and black glow of the dark side flickered around him, plainly enough that Quinn could see it.

“Easy Nomen, you're starting to slip,” her lordship goaded. With a wave she pushed Quinn to the side, out of harm’s way, as Nomen Karr charged her. He beat at her guard and grabbed her by the throat with the Force, lifting her into the air. Quinn fired, three shots at Jedi's head, and then dodged as the bolts were reflected back. The distraction was all her lordship needed to deliver a shattering kick to Karr’s temple and force him to drop her. She wrenched his lightsaber away with a twist of the Force around his wrist and above the pained shout, Quinn could hear the pop.

In desperation, babbling like a madman about how she must fall to him, Karr grabbed Quinn around the throat. The pain was intense, but short lived. There was another pop, another scream, as she shattered Nomen Karr's other wrist and growled “don’t ignore me,” before hurling him backwards in the wall, pinning him, weaponless, in place.

Out of combat, some of Karr’s madness seemed to pass. “Kill me," he grunted. "At least I can die knowing Jaesa will be safe.”

“It’s never even entered your empty head that I don’t want her dead, has it?” Her lordship clicked her tongue in disapproval. “You are a short sighted fool, but at least a short sighted fool who won’t be a nuisance for much longer.” She brushed her hair back, some of the black strands had come loose in the confrontation. "That poor girl, forced to endure your nonsense this entire time."

Quinn turned at the sound of boots, blaster ready, and relaxed slightly when he saw the Imperial Commandos.

"The commandos, my lord," he said, announcing them to Lord Noicrothatch.

Her lordship nodded affirmatively.

“My lord," said the squad leader. "Darth Baras sent us in case you…” the word failed hung over the room like the pall of death, but the commando thought better of voicing it. “Needed help. Clearly that’s not the case. He ordered Nomen Karr be kept alive, may we stabilize him?”

“No!” Karr railed, still pinned in place with Lord Noicrothatch's will. “Baras… Baras be damned. I want to die. Then Jaesa will be safe.”

"Shut up," her lordship said with a tired sigh. Her will tightened around Karr's throat, cutting off the airway. The jedi slumped, unconscious, and she dropped him for the commandos before moving to Quinn's side. She was darkly radiant, still glowing from the fight. Her tongue poked out to collect a trace of blood off her lip where it was marring her lipstick. “Are you alright, Captain?

“Fine, my lord.”

“I’m relieved.” She picked up Nomen Karr’s lightsaber and tucked it onto her belt, a trophy, perhaps. From one of the pockets in her pants she produced a compact and Quinn watched, surprised, as she fixed her makeup and the traces of darkside corruption around her eyes started to fade. She carefully fixed her hair next, the strands that were loosened in the fight all tucked back into their proper place.

It felt vain. Pointless. But it wasn't his place to question and so Quinn remained silent about his opinion.

When Karr regained consciousness, her lordship had him bound to a chair in the center of the room, the perfect bait. Quinn received the notification that Jaesa Willsaam had arrived and something warm passed over her lordship's eyes.

“Stand aside, Captain,” she said in a gentle tone. “Make room for our guest.”

He nodded and stepped away, hand on his blaster just in case. Though he noted that Lord Noicrothatch's hands were nowhere near her sabers.

“Sith.” Jaesa was smaller in person, still outwardly confident but achingly human and fragile. “I have come. Seems I was expected, your men outside let me pass. Release Master Karr, your efforts to draw me out have been successful.”

Before Lord Noicrothatch could speak, however, Karr interrupted her. “Jaesa! No! I told you to stay put! How dare you defy me!”

And just like that, Quinn understood why Lord Noicrothatch adjusted her appearance. Between her and Nomen Karr—raving while tied to a chair and dripping with dark side corruption—there could be no doubt who the saner party was. She was the elegant, graceful victor and it appeared as if she hadn’t broken a sweat.

“Miss Willsaam,” Lord Noicrothatch's voice was warm and soft, dark as caf. “It's good to finally meet you. Welcome.”

“Stupid child! All my sacrifices were for nothing! For all your power you have understood nothing.” Karr snarled.

Lord Noicrothatch ignored him.

Quinn considered hitting him to shut him up.

Jaesa actively recoiled, horror and panic in her eyes as they flickered between Lord Noicrothatch and the broken Jedi Master. “What have you… What have you done to him, sith?” She slapped one hand over her mouth, trying and failing to hide the disgust. “Has this… has this been inside him all along?" She looked up at Lord Noicrothatch. "It can’t be, no one can hide such darkness. Somehow you’ve turned him mad!”

Lord Noicrothatch shook her head. “Jaesa,” she said gently. "You don't need me to tell you. All the answers are in front of you. You just have to look for them." She gestured to the broken jedi with one hand, her movements measured and non-threatening. “Tell me what you see.”

Jaesa Willsaam began to channel. Light spilled from her hands and chest, flooding up around her. It reached out and Quinn had to fight the urge to step further from Nomen Karr as the tendrils of Force Energy wrap around him, probing and poking. It was a thorough search and Nomen Kaar thrashed in his chair, trying to shake her off. Jaesa recoiled suddenly, staring down at her shoes. She described what she saw in a dull, mute voice, blinking away tears.

Lord Noicrothatch stepped forward. “Your order is mired in lies, Jaesa.” Her voice was as soft as silk brushing against snow. "You have been used, sweet girl. Let me break you free from that."

Jaesa looked up and the tendrils poured out of her. Lord Noicrothatch opened her arms and accepted the winding gold snakes like she had nothing to fear from them. The light bit into her and Lord Noicrothatch's expression shifted with discomfort, but she didn't resist. Didn't fight it.

The light died and Jaesa dropped her chin, staring at the floor. "You don't even know me."

"Neither do you," Lord Noicrothatch said. "You have been used and shackled all your life."

“All my life I put up with deceit and denial. I thought the Jedi would be different.” Her eyes strayed up to Nomen Kaar and then immediately back to her shoes. A small, lost girl instead of a woman in her twenties. She took a deep breath and looked up at Lord Noicrothatch. “You’ve exposed Master Karr for what he is. It’s your power that reveals a person’s true nature. The fear you inspire forces truth to the surface. I want that.”

“Then it will be yours," her lordship said. "I name you my apprentice. I will teach you that and more. Together, we'll meet you.” She extended her hand and beckoned Jaesa into her with two fingers, enfolding her into a hug when she took the few timid steps forward. The Jedi were touch-starved and Jaesa froze in panic and then folded, her hands shaking and then gripping at Lord Noicrothatch's coat as though it was her mother’s skirts. She trembled and Lord Noicrothatch set her palm against the back of her head, tall and scarlet and above all gentle. “I will show you the power of the dark side,” she promised softly, her cheek against Jaesa’s temple. "And all the wonders that come with it."

“I am honored,” Jaesa exhaled. “My lord.”

When the embrace ended, Lord Noicrothatch rested one hand on Jaesa's shoulder as they turned to look at the Jedi. Jaesa exhaled hard. “What do you wish of me? What should be done with Master Kaar?”

“Master Kaar will be taken to Darth Baras," her lordship said. She took Nomen Kaar’s lightsaber off her belt and pressed it into Jaesa’s hands, a gift. “And he is no longer our concern. Come, let’s return to our ship and get you settled.” She looked at Quinn and smiled, sharp and predatory. “Jaesa, this is Captain Malavai Quinn, a trusted asset.”

Quinn gives her a small bow. “My lord.”

It worried him all the way back to the ship and through take off as Vette helped Jaesa settle in and Lord Noicrothatch lingered near them to offer the odd bit of comfort and advice. In a short time, less than a year, Lord Noicrothatch had achieved more than Darth Baras could have expected. But in doing so, she had shown that she was stronger than him. More clever in the moment. Her recruitment, rather than destruction, of Jaesa Willsaam would be the final clincher. Baras did not suffer threats idly, and now Lord Noicrothatch had become one.

Nomen Karr had nearly killed Baras.

Lord Noicrothatch had beaten and humiliated the jedi.

Quinn controlled his exhale and just… hoped her usefulness would continue to outweigh the dangers.

He left the cockpit to get another cup of caf and paused when he heard weeping. He hesitated and looked over to see Vette in the lounge.

"Jaesa," she said, answering his unspoken question. "She just went through a lot."

"Where is her lordship?"

"In with her," Vette said, rolling her eyes like he was an idiot.

"Darth Baras will likely be calling soon," Quinn said.

"She knows," Vette picked up her datapad and rolled back so she was resting on the settee. "Jaesa's going to take precedence for a bit. Relax. Assuming you know how."

It seemed unorthodox to put the tears of an apprentice above the whims of a master, but Quinn wasn't in a position to question it.

Caf in hand, he returned to the cockpit until summoned back to the lounge to take Darth Baras's call.

Jaesa was more collected and she stood there silently as Darth Baras preened over his victory and Lord Noicrothatch introduced her new apprentice.

They were granted a brief relief from duty.

"I think we're going to need a bigger place," Vette said, looking at her lordship once the call had ended. "I love our little place at the Orchard, but it's pretty small."

"I agree," her lordship said. "Take Jaesa to my room and start looking at listings in Kaas City, Woyonuks. See if there's a large place—at least five rooms—that you two can agree on. I'll join you shortly."

Vette nodded and turned to Jaesa, tilting her head for the new apprentice for follow.

Lord Noicrothatch watched them go with a warm smile and then turned her attention to Quinn.

“I wonder, my lord, what are your plans now?”

She smiled. “They haven’t changed, Quinn, we will crush the Empire’s enemies and bring the Republic to its knees.”

Quinn wanted to grab her, crush her mouth to his. He remained still. “I hope to be there when you deal the final blow, my lord.”

“I intend for you to be, Captain," she said warmly. "Afterall, I think I'll always have use for someone to can fly my ship, plan my battles, note the weaknesses of my enemies, and kill them. The fact that you're an extremely competent pilot and easy on the eyes is just the glaze on the cake." Her eyes were bright, her smile was teasing, and then she left the room before he could work his jaw open.

Chapter Text

Vette and Jaesa had been able to come to an agreement on residential listings in Dromund Kaas quickly and so the datawork was all handled before The Black Sky docked at the Dromund Kaas spaceport. With no other instructions, Quinn accompanied the others into the taxi.

"Our new stronghold," Vette said, elbowing Jaesa a little as the taxi pulled up to a high-rise apartment building that overlooked the city center.

Jaesa was looking out the windows. "This place is steeped in the dark side."

"It is," Lord Noicrothatch said. "Take it in slowly, darling. You have all the time in the world."

The listing (Quinn had checked) described the new residence as an apartment. Apartment in Quinn’s mind had been limited to a single level and Lord Noicrothatch's new home was two floors, garage and balcony, with a sprawling floor plan on each. There were three bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs.

Quinn stared out one of the large windows, watching the rain beat down on the city below. The city had changed since his boyhood—the unrelenting march of the decades would do that—but the rain remained a comfort. It was strange being back. He got leave briefly to attend his father’s funeral, but beyond that one sad duty, he hadn’t been to Kaas City since Druckenwell.

This, he thought, watching the streets and buildings glisten in the rain, is the seat of what I’ve been fighting for..

Movers arrived with the pieces of furniture Jaesa and Vette had purchased. From what Quinn could tell, both stuck to the budget that had been set, but Quinn watched the intricately designed bedposts heading into Jaesa’s room and wondered how closely they adhered. While the movers responded to the demands of both girls as they decorated with the fervor of two people being given their own space for the first time (he wasn't sure how true that was of Vette, actually, her lordship was overly indulgent of her) Lord Noicrothatch settled on her living room couch and gestured to Quinn that he was welcome to sit.

Which he did, settling stiffly into the seat beside her, the bowl of apnacks between them on the table and a cup of caf in front of her. “My lord?”

“There is a room on the first level if you would like,” she said.

He went blank for a moment.

“You are assigned a post on my ship," her lordship continued unabated. "But with Nomen Karr handled and an apprentice to train, I may not always be traveling. Hence the,” her lips pulled up to a small smile, “stronghold. You’re welcome to stay wherever you choose, of course, but convenience would suggest that here is easiest.”

“Yes, my lord.” The temptation was staggering and he let himself slip, just a little. Like when they got caf on Nar Shaddaa, he wondered if he was being tested and if he was passing. She looked comfortable, at peace, and the sense was infectious. “Have you decided then where I fit in, tool or asset?”

Fallon laughed, a rich, warm sound. She shook her head and smiled at him, yellow eyes bright. “Weren’t you listening when I brought Jaesa into the fold, Malavai? You are an asset, trusted and cared for.”

“I am overwhelmed, my lord.” He inclined his head. “I would be honored.”

Weeks passed and Malavai realized he was mostly unsure of what to do in an environment as relaxed as Lord Noicrothatch's stronghold. But he was enjoying it. He read reports by the window, listening to the soothing pattern of the rain and sipping a very fine blend of caf. He watched from the corner of his eye as Vette tinkered and her lordship combed her fingers through Jaesa’s hair, offering advice and little lessons. The seduction of the dark side, Fallon had explained one evening when it was just the pair of them, need to be handled delicately in someone like Jaesa. She was affection starved and bloodthirsty, and Fallon seemed to be taking pride in showing Jaesa the gentle art of using those traits its to her benefit.

She was lavish with her affections and in return Jaesa’s loyalty appeared unwavering. After her lordship and Jaesa returned from visiting the Willsaams (given the sudden increase in the accounts and Jaesa's demeanor, likely for the last time) it became clear that, on Alderaan, Jaesa was ignored unless she was useful. Her youth and beauty, for example, had been leveraged as a chance for her parents to rise from servitude. General Gesselle had used to her for her own political machinations. Within the Jedi affection was forbidden, and Nomen Karr had cared for her power, not her person.

But Lord Noicrothatch was indulgent and open. She had named Jaesa her heir upon arrival and taken her out to meet 'her grandparents' at the vineyard and orchard the Noicrothatches owned.

Jaesa Willsaam had become Jaesa Noicrothatch.

So now, Malavai watched Jaesa turn into Fallon’s palms and weep a little with joy when Fallon combed her hair or helped with her makeup. Fallon asked for nothing in return for her love, and thus, Jaesa offered everything she had.

It was unlike any dynamic Quinn had come to expect from an apprentice and master. It was maternal.

Fallon was open with her advice but never judgemental, and so Jaesa came to her with every conceivable question (more than once Quinn entered a room and left again immediately as Fallon explained a masturbatory technique Jaesa had heard of and offered a plethora of new ways to enhance an experience). There were no secrets, as far as Quinn could tell, no taboos. In a few years, it likely wouldn’t occur to Jaesa to plot against her master.

Which might have been the point.

The leash was there, and when Lord Noicrothatch was stern, Jaesa heeded every irritated syllable with a devotion that would make other sith sob.

It was mesmerizing, and for the life of him, Quinn couldn't tell if it was calculated or simply in Fallon’s nature.

It must have been calculated.

And yet.

It was similar enough to the affection Fallon displayed towards Vette that Quinn had his doubts. If there was point to the twi’lek beyond the… pleasure of her company (an unpleasant thing, in Quinn's experience) he hadn’t seen it. But Lord Fallon was indulgent and playful. She took delight in Vette’s stories and escapades, in simply being around her.

So perhaps it was genuine.

“Sure is Broysc out there,” Vette said, flopping into the chair across from him and grinning, proving his point about her company. “It’s just such a Broysc day.”

He'd been enjoying himself even. The rain, the soft light, his caf.

Quinn stared at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s such a Broysc day,” Vette repeated, grinning at him. “A perfect day for telling me exactly why you hate that Moff Guy.”

“Go away.”

She flapped her wrist. “Nah.”

“I’m working,” Quinn repeated, as if it was going to help.

“Broysc,” Vette set her elbows on the table. He considered the drawbacks to smacking her and decided there were far too many to make it worth the brief satisfaction.

Unable to actually do anything about her because it wasn't worth aggravating their lord, he settled for ignoring her. This worked after a few minutes and Vette, bored, got out of her chair to leave. He let his guard down for a moment, thinking it was over, and she appeared behind him and whispered “Broysc,” in the same tone that some people said “moist.”

Quinn had to tense his shoulders to keep from reacting.

This continued for nearly two weeks. With Vette randomly dropping Broysc’s name nonsensically into conversation or sending him a message with nothing else.

At one point, after finding the name scrawled on his mirror in lipstick, Quinn changed his door code and resolved to speak with Lord Noicrothatch, thoroughly embarrassed that it had come to that point.

He caught her alone at night, listening to her favorite Opera (Jen Saarajikut, Hidden Truths) and waited to be acknowledged. Fallon turned the music down, but not off, with a wave of her hand. “Quinn?”

“My Lord,” he gave a small bow to apologize for the interruption. “May I ask you to have a word with Vette and ask her not to disturb me when I’m working?”

"That would cut her ability to disturb you by ninety percent, Quinn," Fallon said with a teasing smile. "That's almost unfair."

Quinn frowned and she batted the concern away, just teasing.

“Exactly how is she disturbing you?” she asked and he wasn't sure what to make of the mild amusement in her eyes.

“She’s not wired for military precision,” he said immediately, professional tone dropping to be filled with all the irritation he'd been bottling. “And there’s no filter on that twi’lek mouth.”

Lord Noicrothatch raised her brow curiously, surface piercings glinting with the movement.

Quinn exhaled the irritation and stiffened his back, determined to be dignified and professional again. “When I was tracking down Agent Voloren, she must have overheard me refer to Moff Broysc and now she’s taken to persistently pestering me about him.” He huffed, irritated all over again. “She keeps slipping his name nonsensically into conversations just to annoy me. Says she won’t stop until I tell her why I hate the man.”

Fallon’s expression, while beautiful in the dim light, was not particularly comforting. She looked a little like she was trying not to laugh, which wasn’t what he was going for. Then she sighed and shook her head. “Quinn, Vette is relentless. Once she gets her teeth into something she almost never lets go of it, it's part of what makes her so effective. You'd be better off just telling her.”

Quinn frowned and his posture stiffened. “It’s neither appropriate nor in the Empire’s best interests to discuss the matter with non-military personnel.” And he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. That was a lot of it. Not that he could, or would, say that. “Besides, knowing her, the details of Broysc’s collapse at Druckenwell and his and my subsequent conflict would only give her more fodder.”

Her lordship studied him and then her expression softened and her eyes lowered a little, smile becoming sweeter and less teasing. She nodded. “I’ll talk to her, she’ll stop bothering you.”

“Thank you, my lord. I was hoping you’d say that. I apologize for interrupting your evening.”

She brushed the concern away. “Not at all. You may join me, if you’d like, we’re only on the second movement. It lacks the punch when it’s only the audio, but allows me to read.”

Despite himself, the durasteel went out of his spine and his posture softened to something much more human. “I would enjoy that, My Lord.” He took a seat on in one of the chairs as Fallon dimmed the light and turned the volume up with a small wave. The piece was in Sith, and he couldn’t make out a word of it, but it was beautiful.

Moreover, Fallon—lying on the couch with her eyes closed and her expression placid and relaxed—was truly stunning. “The story is one of my favorites,” she said without opening her eyes. “Darth Moxzae, a formidable lord of the Sith—that’s her there, the alto—has met a young Nautolan Jedi Knight by the name of Shot Kunne—the watery soprano—and decides she must possess her.” Quinn watched Fallon’s lips twitch with a smile. “Moxzae is passionate and forceful, Shot Kunne is highly disciplined, but young and uncertain.”

“A nautolan?” he asked for clarification.

“Oh yes, it caused quite a stir,” she said, smiling a little. “The opera itself is fairly new, only about ten years old, and the part was written for a Nautolan. Initially for the stage production they attempted to cast a human in the role and alter her appearance with costuming, but human vocal ranges are limited and the part was given to the woman it was written for.”

“The singer now?”

“Soh Ondumt, a slave of one of Darth Malgus’s apprentices.” Fallon’s nostrils flared with irritation.

“You disapprove, my lord?”

“A long story, Captain,” she ended the conversation with four simple words. “Simply enjoy the piece.”

Vette, he remembered, was found in the slave pits.

It was as perfect an evening as he could remember. The rain was soft on the windows, the room was dark and close. The music was sweet and moving.

And Fallon seemed at peace, content in his company in a way no one had really been before. He marked her face. Her full lips were painted black, her glossy dark hair was down. The spurs from her chin framed her throat.

He adored her.

Fallon's eyes opened and met his, looking up at him from her back. "May I confide something in you, Malavai?" she asked softly.

He nodded. "Of course, my lord."

"As much as I despise Baras for how he came to hold my billet, I find that I'm grateful to have ended up on Balmorra. I have never met a more tireless servant of the Empire, nor a more interesting man."

His throat felt like it was going to close with how dry his mouth was.

She rose from the couch. "Goodnight, Malavai. Rest well."

Chapter Text

It wasn't a secret that Quinn hated the Treaty of Coruscant. He schooled his features to neutral as Lord Noicrothatch summoned him, Jaesa, and Vette to the stronghold lounge to deliver Darth Baras’s edict that they would hunt down and eliminate not only General Gonn, but also the traitors working with him. Her eyes lingered on Quinn’s for a moment, holding him in the room as she dismissed Vette and Jaesa to pack.

“Are you excited, Captain?” she asked, gesturing for him to follow her up to her bedroom to grab the few things she wanted that she didn’t keep aboard her ship. Their ship. "Eager to snap the Treaty of Coruscant under your boot?”

“I am, my lord.” Quinn nodded, not even bothering to hide the small smile because it was just the two of them. He had never been more certain that his loyalty to Baras was well-placed. Darth Baras would crush the Republic and carry the Empire to greatness.

And if they were at war, Lord Noicrothatch would remain a greater tool than she was a threat.

And that, if he dared to admit it to himself, was a weight off his mind.

Lord Noicrothatch chose Quinn to accompany her once they reached Nar Shaddaa to find the first victim of Darth Vengean’s plot to maneuver the galaxy into war. He followed her willingly into the glittering Nar Shaddan streets, keeping easy pace with her as she navigated the corruption and the gang territories to get where they needed to go.

They caught General Gonn in the middle of negotiations with a Chiss—Fawste. From the conversation before they noticed her lordship (implying that they were both dumb and, possibly, blind; Lord Noicrothatch dominated any space she was in). Fawste had assisted an unknown Jedi Knight in discreetly landing on Hoth. Something he would alert Darth Baras about if Lord Noicrothatch chose not to for some reason.

Quinn stood stiffly, his blaster in his hand but not yet pointed, waiting for the order to kill them all. In contrast, Lord Fallon leaned against the wall, watching with bemused eyes, content to wait until they noticed her or the opportunity to introduce herself arose.

“You’re a valuable asset to the Republic, Fawste,” General Gonn said, pride filling his words. “Someday, the rest of the Chiss will follow your lead.”

“That seems profoundly unlikely,” Fallon said, breaking her silence and pushing off the wall. Her eyes glowed with approval as she straightened. “Excellent work, Fawste, leading me to the General.”

“I—uh—” Fawste swallowed and licked his lips nervously. He took a small step back and his eyes fixed on Quinn and then, more importantly, Quinn’s blaster.

“Men! We’ve got trouble,” an armed woman said, moving forward with her gun raised. “Surround the general.”

Quinn aimed at her throat.

Lord Noicrothatch seemed unfazed.

“What’s this Fawste?” General Gonn pulled his gun and leveled it at Fallon’s face. Quinn tensed, but General Gonn’s eyes and attention were fixed on Fawste. “Have you double crossed me?”

“I—No! No General, I—”

“Oh, give it up, Fawste.” Fallon chuckled darkly. “The General’s not an idiot. Why else would I be here now? There can't be that many spies in his contingent, can there?”

“No! It’s a lie, General, I swear.” Fawste was panicked, looking around, almost pleading. Pathetic.

“I believe you.” Gonn’s eyes moved back to Fallon and she offered a coquettish chuckle, batting her long eyelashes and shrugging playfully in response. The display of overt girlishness felt pointed, removed from her usual refinement.

Quinn fought the urge to snort with amusement. She was never coquettish unless she felt the need to actively mock someone. Teasing at, as she said once, the patriarchal military complex that painted women as victims to be protected and femininity as profoundly unthreatening.

Her assessment, at the time, had been something of an annoyance. He didn't think like that.

Except that he had been caught off guard by women for underestimating them. So now he embraced it as a lesson to improve his own efficacy.

“Sith are notorious liars. Our bond is not broken." Gonn lifted his chin in challenge at Lord Noicrothatch. "I think I can guess who you are, Sith. For all of Darth Baras’s covert manipulations, you have banged around the galaxy loudly enough. Now Baras has found me. I’ll have to be more careful moving forward.”

“Very little hides from me, General,” Fallon said, the playfulness dying quickly.

“I was successful once, I’ll be successful again.”

"Delusion's a good look on you General. I think it matches the brown-grey the Republic tends to wear, adding a… spark… of naivety to the ensemble."

A smile clawed for purchase on Quinn's mouth.

“Sith…” Fawste said from the background. "You uh… you're the warrior that defeated Nomen Karr?"

She nodded. "You heard about that, did you? Makes a general look small in comparison, doesn't it?"

Fawste nodded quickly. "This, uh, this isn’t what it seems.”

“Oh really?” She laughed. “What is it then, I’m all ears.”

“We were—” Quinn watched him scramble for something that she might believe. “We, uh, cooperated with General Gonn to learn, uh, what he was up to. So at the right time we could, uh, betray him.”

It wasn't wildly convincing, but it incensed the General, possibly because it proved that the Chiss knew who was more likely to come out ahead in this fight. And it wasn't General Gonn.

“Nicely played, Fawste,” Gonn snarled. “You’re a real lowlife. When this is over, so is our alliance.”

“And the Empire will welcome you with open arms,” Fallon said.

“He’s about to find himself all alo—” the General’s threat was cut short into a gurgle and then a snap as Fallon reached out and succinctly snapped his neck. Quinn fired into his supporters, taking them down before Fallon needed to draw her lightsaber. He gave her a small nod in exchange for her approval and they both turned to look at Fawste.

“You… you killed them all,” he whispered, terrified.

Fallon nodded, thoroughly unimpressed.

“We—Mercy, please. My men and I, we will rededicate ourselves to the empire.”

Her posture moved, heels coming slightly more together to add to her already impressive height. “Tell me about this Jedi you landed on Hoth,” Fallon tilted her head, asking a question instead of deciding one way or another. She rested her right hand on her hip, where she could grab her saber easily.

“I—I helped him—a knight named Xerender—land on Hoth undetected. I believe he’s searching for something in the starship graveyard but that’s all I know I swear.”

“I believe you," she said. She gestured past them, to the exit. "Report to Darth Baras and tell him everything."

"Y—yes my lord."

The Chiss filed past and Fallon stood next to Quinn, she gave him a small smile. "Captain, how many traitors does it take to report to Darth Baras?"

"I don't imagine it would take more than one, my lord," Quinn answered.

"Shoot Fawste first, leave his lieutenant."

"At once, my lord." Quinn trained his blaster on the retreating Chiss traitors and whittled their numbers down while Fallon collected the datapad General Gonn had been using.

They returned to Dromund Kaas shortly thereafter and Fallon changed into nicer clothes. She gave Jaesa leave to go hunting on the grounds that she didn’t drag anything home with her and Vette took the afternoon to go home and nap. Quinn, faithful as ever, followed her Lordship to Baras’s sanctum.

He had never actually been to the Sith Sanctum on Dromund Kaas, despite his long tenure as Bars's servant. Now that he was thinking about it, he'd never met the man in person. This wasn't unusual with Sith in general and particularly not with Baras who, very cleverly, tended to work through multiple levels of obfuscation.

But it did make Malavai appreciate the immediacy of her lordship. She was an active part of his life and routine, not a dangerous figure on the other side of the holocall. It made her pleasure and her irritation much more of an immediate concern.

Fallon led Quinn down a flight of stairs past a number of armed soldiers, their weapons held at attention. Two at the start of the stairs. Two on the landing. Two on the bottom of the stairs, and then… ten… along the walls of Baras's office. Just waiting.

"My," Fallon said. "I think this is more than last time."

"My lord?" Quinn asked.

"He must be actually here himself," she told him. "That's a refreshing change of pace. Usually he's away on business in another room and I have to deal with the holocomm."

Darth Baras was in the middle of a holocall with Darth Vengean and Fallon held up a hand to hold Quinn back, waiting until they were acknowledged and summoned forward. When acknowledged, her lordship stepped forward and inclined her head respectfully, playing the supplicant.

Immediately, Malavai noticed the differences between his lords. Baras was shorter, his mask obscuring his face to make him inscrutable. His weight rested back a little, as if prepared to dodge as Lord Noicrothatch approached. She was always dignified, but here she was old Sith blood, sharp features and gold jewelry. Unbowed, unafraid, her movements smooth.

Quinn wondered how much of it was an act for Darth Baras. Was she more afraid of him than he was of her? He was older, stronger, more highly positioned.

The guards were a display of power and authority. A little on the nose, perhaps, but Darth Baras did regard her as a blunt instrument.

He was wrong, but Baras was wrong rarely enough that it felt notable.

Fallon listened to Darth Vengean as he laid out his plan to eliminate a number of the Republic's most powerful generals. It was a masterstroke, assuming it could be executed properly.

Quinn felt a stirring of excitement in his chest. This was what he’d been waiting for. The war was almost upon them and from where he stood, just behind Lord Fallon in front of Darth Baras, victory felt assured.

They were dismissed immediately. Their first targets were on the planet Taris, Darth Baras had been tracking them for years. Waiting.

Once they were outside of the Sanctum, waiting for the taxi that would take them back to the spaceport, Fallon produced her comm. “Vette, darling,” she said sweetly. “I hate to cut your afternoon short, but we will be leaving imminently. Meet us at the ship.”

“Yes’m,” Vette said without argument.

Fallon then caught Jaesa by holo at the Cantina and delivered the same instructions. Jaesa, however, sighed, nearly put upon. Fallon chuckled. “Now, now, it’s time to feed other appetites, my darling."

Jaesa nodded and offered a supplicating nod. “Of course, my master.”

Fallon tucked her comm away and looked at Quinn. “You feel ready to bubble over, Captain.” Her smile was sharp enough to cut him. “It’s a marvelous look on you.”

There was hunger in her eyes and he could feel the blood climbing treacherously towards his cheeks. He swallowed down a responsive flirtation: Better than the blush on Tatooine, my lord? and cleared his throat instead.

Her lordship chuckled, and Quinn wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that.

He headed for the cockpit as soon as they were aboard The Black Sky, passing Vette as she moved through the lounge to greet Fallon.

“Taris, huh?” Vette sighed. “We never go anywhere nice.”

Fallon’s chuckle followed him to his seat.

He put in the coordinates as they cleared Dromund Kaas's atmosphere and plunged into the blackness of space. For a moment, the excitement was all encompassing. Regrettably, Broysc was never far from Quinn’s thoughts and the flight to Taris—the reminder that soon they would be at war again—gave him time to simmer about it. Quinn barely noticed he was doing it until he heard the crinkle of leather and looked up to find Lord Fallon leaning against the wall in the cockpit sipping her caf.

She lingered in his space, he was realizing. Seemingly content to simply be around him. At first he had thought it was because she didn't trust him, but now, with her peaceful expression and her cup of caf in her hand, he wondered if she simply enjoyed his company the way he had come to value hers.

“My lord,” he said after a little while, breaking the silence between them. “May I seek your advice?”

Fallon lowered her mug and turned her attention to him. "Of course, Quinn. What's bothering you?"

He held his chin high, holding her eyes. “As a military man, above all else, I value discipline, the chain of command and uncompromising dedication to serving the Empire’s interests.” He waited for her to nod before he continued. “But there’s a built-in dilemma. When my instincts tell me that a superior is jeopardizing the Empire, it makes my path less clear.”

Fallon’s mouth moved to a small, knowing smile. “That’s the problem with the Military. No matter the rank, no one should be above reproach.” She raised her brow and took another sip of her caf. “So, is it my leadership or Broysc’s that has you concerned?”

He felt a small blush climb up his cheeks. “Broysc’s. I apologize for giving any other impression.” He tilted his head back against the seat, a rare breach of his discipline. “It’s been a difficult lesson to learn. But it’s… tricky. The criteria to criticize a superior must never be softened.” He frowned and looked out towards the stars, nose wrinkling with disgust. “I stood by as Moff Broysc’s random whims compromised countless missions. It is a mistake I refuse to repeat. Defying him ruined my career, but I should have done it sooner.”

“True,” Fallon said. "But look at it another way. His failings have become your strengths. You are exacting and tenacious, more disciplined and driven than anyone I’ve met." He blinked and looked up at her. She was looking out the window, a small smile on her painted lips. "You should almost thank him.”

The compliment took him entirely by surprise. There wasn’t a trace of a flirtation in it. Her expression was neither mocking nor condescending. She wasn’t even looking at him, her attention focused on the stars.

“That is a startling perspective, my lord.” He forced his eyes back to the stars, and they seemed to burn half as brightly as she did. “Your example and guidance give me clarity. Thank you. I am more focused now.”

Fallon pushed off the wall and moved over to his chair. “I have no complaints about either your thoroughness or commitment.” She set her hand on his shoulder as she turned to leave, nothing more than a brush of her long fingers over his jacket but it felt electric.

“I’ll never give you any reason to, my Lord,” he said urgently, like it was the most important thing he’s ever said.

“I know, Quinn. It’s why I’ve come to rely on you.”

He swallowed and looked at the galaxy map when she left, praying silently that he never had cause to betray that trust.

Chapter Text

As little as he liked Hutta, Taris was possibly Quinn’s least favorite planet. The history holos indicated that it had been beautiful once, but then Darth Malak had broken it open like an egg, released the rakghoul virus and turned the whole planet into one toxic disaster.

There were very few places Quinn felt might be better ceded to the Republic, at least until they were crushed, but Taris was top of the list.

They couldn't surrender Taris, it was too close to Dromund Kaas to risk letting it become a Republic staging are, but the planet was still unpleasant.

At least Hutta’s swamps weren’t actually caustic. And the criminals on Nar Shadda wouldn’t literally eat anyone alive (generally speaking) unlike the rakghouls.

Which brought him to the second issue: The Rakghouls.

Fallon and Vette couldn’t contract the virus, but he and Jaesa certainly could.

The rakghoul question seemed to linger in Fallon's thoughts as well as she stood in the cockpit, listening to his conversation with the control staff and bringing the vessel in to dock. At length, however, she looked at him. “Captain, unpleasant as it is, I want you down on the surface with me."

"Of course, my lord."

She gave him a smile. "However, in light of your species, you’re going to need the Rakghoul vaccine. I understand the side-effects can be unpleasant.” Her expression narrowed. “The irritability in particular is notable.” She kept her voice low.

"Is this why you would prefer my company, my lord?" he asked, rising out of his chair.

She gave him a small smile. “I don't doubt her abilities or her loyalty, but the path down the dark side is one that must be measured, she needs to delight in her fury, not succumb to the equivalent of an itch.”

Quinn nodded. “I will serve faithfully.”

She gestured for him to follow her. “Besides, I think you’ll enjoy ‘putting the boot in’ on the War Trust more than she would. Jaesa enjoys bloodshed but for you this is a chance to serve the Empire.”

He smiled and dipped his chin a little. “I appreciate it, my lord.”

They left the ship and headed through the umbilical down to the orbiting station.

The sleeves of his jacket didn’t really roll up and so Quinn was forced to undo the front and pull it down over his shoulder that way. Fallon watched with muted interest as the Imperial Medic pushed his undershirt up over the shoulder and injected a clear serum into his bicep that stung the minute it entered Quinn’s bloodstream. Quinn wrinkled his nose in displeasure and looked up when Fallon chuckled a little. She shook her head slightly, dismissing the question before it could form.

They took a shuttle down to the planet's surface, landing after the sun had set. The jungle world was cast in inky blue and dark green shadows. Given the inherent nature of the planet and its risks, Quinn tightened his jaw and remained alert as he followed her lordship into the building where they were supposed to meet Moff Hurdenn.

Moff Hurdenn was a small, mousy man with an equally small mustache accompanied by a brute of a lieutenant. The Lieutenant was taller than Fallon (no mean feat) and twice as broad. His arms dropped casually to his sides as Quinn and Fallon entered the room and he stepped away from the holographic map. “Moff Hurdenn,” he said without even the smallest hint of a salute. Quinn placed his accent as being from Imperial Space but not from Dromund Kaas. Ziost, perhaps? Red Sith in his heritage would explain the size. “The Sith is here.”

“What’s that Lieutenant?” Moff Hurdenn looked up from his device. “Oh, I didn’t see you come in.”

Fallon's weight swayed to the side, unimpressed.

Moff Hurdenn gave a poor bow, but a bow, to Fallon. “You must be the sith Darth Baras sent. Welcome to Taris.”

“Indeed.” Fallon’s tone was polite, but not friendly. “My mission is of the utmost importance however, so I require all the information you have immediately.”

“Yes, right. As I told Darth Baras, I have long sought an opportunity to assist him and am eager to contribute however I am able.”

“I doubt she came all this way to be fawned on,” the lieutenant interrupted with nothing short of disdain. Quinn wasn’t certain what to make of that. It was blatantly disrespectful but also very true and the Moff’s pandering was… irritating.

Disconcertingly, Quinn noticed Fallon crack a small smile.

“Of course,” the Moff said, a further troubling development. “May I Introduce Lieutenant Pierce, on loan from our notorious Black Ops division. I give you exclusive reign of him while you’re on Taris, which I trust will accommodate your every need.”

Black Ops, Quinn thought, that explains a few things.

Fallon turned her sharp yellow eyes onto Pierce and smiled, showing just a hint of tooth. “Lieutenant, your service to me begins immediately.”

Pierce, to Quinn’s muted dismay, returned the smile with one of his own. “Good. I heard what you did on Alderaan, Lord Noicrothatch. Secured the planet for our interests basically on your own. Glad to have you here.”

"Thank you, Lieutenant. It's nice to be appreciated."

So Pierce knew who she was. Given that the Moff simply referred to her as 'sith' Quinn was forced to wonder who was controlling what information and where the real power in the room lay. It appeared to lay with Pierce, which he found distasteful.

The Moff cleared his throat, standing between giants. “Well, I leave you two to your mission, then. As you proceed, if I can offer any further aid, do not hesitate to contact me.”

Lieutenant Pierce waited until the Moff was out of the room before speaking, meeting Fallon’s eyes with a sureness that most men failed to possess. Quinn didn’t like it. With the way Moff Hurdenn behaved, and the way Black Ops tended to operate, he suspected the lieutenant was blackmailing his superior.

At least, Quinn consoled himself, if the lieutenant was foolish enough to try such a thing on Fallon, he would be dealt with.

However, Quinn's complaints about decorum aside, Pierce had clearly done his homework, revealing to Fallon that he’d caught a Republic scout and “leaned on him, hard” to get the location of several supply routes to one of the War Trust Generals. Frellka, the newest member.

Fallon listened as Pierce laid out a strategy for triangulating the General’s location, and lifted her brow as he complained that The Moff couldn’t spare the manpower.

Her eyes moved to Quinn, just for a moment, and he met her gaze, giving the smallest nod on impulse.

“The Caravans aren’t an issue, Lieutenant." Fallon said. "Captain Quinn and I can handle them ourselves.”

“Guess I’m running the tech then,” Pierce looked almost disappointed about it, which Quinn enjoyed. “Here are the coordinates, caravans run daily, but they vary the timing. I’m sure you’ll come upon them eventually. Hit enough and snag the transponders, I’ll figure out where they’re going. Should zero in on General Frellka.”

“Excellent. I will be in contact.”

“Good. Glad to be moving on this, M’Lord. It’s been a long time coming.”

Fallon requisitioned a speeder from the garrison. Quinn followed her out and settled on the back. He could feel the vaccine’s effects and resisted the urge to rub at his biceps when Fallon was looking at him by virtue of being career military. It would have been easier if it hurt but it didn’t. It just itched.

The foliage was thick around them as they parked the speeder and Quinn expected more insects, but they seemed to be avoiding him. He stole a look at Fallon and wondered.

If she was deflecting the insects somehow, it was possibly just to make him as efficient as possible. But he didn't know if she was and thus couldn't ask for fear of embarrassing himself.

They attacked the caravan and grabbed the transponder, standing amidst the Republic corpses. "Lieutenant," she said as she sent the information.

"M' lord?"

"Requistion some of Hurdenn's forces to collect the supplies as we deal with the caravans. It would be a waste to let the swamp have them."

Pierce cracked a laugh of the other end. "Right away, m' lord."

When they sent the third transponder coordinate Quinn could feel the start of a headache. It was likely caused by the vaccine, but he was inclined to blame it on Lieutenant Pierce simply because that was easiest.

Fallon watched the holo as Pierce worked, studying his expressions in miniature and the way he worked.

Had she studied him that way? Quinn wondered. He felt a brief flare of jealousy in the pit of his stomach that he was certainly going to blame on the vaccine.

"Transmitting coordinates," Pierce said. "Has to be General Frellka's location."

"Quinn?" she said.

"Recieved," he answered, checking the coordinates as they were sent. "It appears to be a tunnel system, my lord."

"We beat the Reps out of there a few months back," Pierce said. "All we found were rank caves that pirates used to use. If they snuck back in, they're after something."

"Noted," Fallon said. "Please have someone make up a pair of rooms for my return."

"Will do. Good hunting, m'lord."

Fallon clicked off the holo and tucked it away, turning to head back to the speeder. “How are you feeling, Captain?”

“Itchy, my lord,” Quinn answered. She gave him a small smile and he cleared his throat to answer properly. “Enthused to take down a quarter of the War Trust.”

"Do you know anything about General Frellka?" she asked, tall boots stomping through the underbrush.

"Some, my lord," he said. She settled on the speeder and he hesitated. "I doubt you'd be able to hear my evaluation over the wind, my lord."

Fallon smiled at him. "You'll have to speak into my ear, Quinn. We don't have any time to waste."

Quinn swallowed but settled behind her. He curled his arms around her waist as she kicked the vehicle into gear and leaned forward to speak into her ear, offering up what he knew and trying to ignore the thrill that ran down his spine when his lips accidentally brushed her skin.

She was doing this on purpose. Testing him or toying with him but there was such an air of genuine affection around her that he relished it anyway.

He could see all the mistakes ahead of him.

The cave was full of miners and Republic troops. Quinn watched Fallon’s features brighten with the sheer love of violence as red-black miasma swirled around her hands and ankles like smoke. She leapt and the ground quaked where she landed in the middle of a small patrol, knocking the soldiers onto their knees before she parted their heads from their necks with elegant strokes, the stink of burned flesh growing in the contained space.

She was radiant, unrestrained, a typhoon of carnage falling on the miners in their way. Quinn followed her, picking off the men and women who tried to flee.

Fallon cornered the mining foreman, chucking the body of a dead guard towards him to herd him.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” The foreman shouted, moving backwards until he bumped into the wall. His voice shook and his hands were up waving frantically as if to take Fallon's attention off of his more vital parts. “You got all the soldiers, we’re just miners, contracted miners at that.”

Fallon, still glowing with bloodlust, was profoundly unmoved. “Where’s General Frellka?”

“He’s the overseer, but he ain’t exactly hands on,” the Foreman explained, as far back against the wall as he could be. “Hasn’t been by in weeks. You gonna kill him?”

“Yes.” Fallon’s smile was wolfish. “Do you have a problem with that?” The tendrils of power, red and black, curled around her wrists and twined up her arms like snakes. The representation of her majesty and might.

The Foreman considered, and then shook his head. “Not… not really,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Every job ends at some point and the Republic don’t pay me enough to get in your way, believe me.” He swallowed and licked his lips before looking down and away. “If—If I hit the silent alarm, Frellka’ll come with his personal guard. If that’s what you really want, I can bring him here.”

Fallon dropped the point of her saber, extinguishing the second and hooking it back onto her belt. “Do it.”

The Foreman pushed a button on his comm and exhaled. “There, it’s done. Can we go?”

Fallon nodded. "Of course." She gestured for him to move past her and then jammed her lightsaber through him, burning away the scream before it could start. “The rest of you can leave.” She clicked the beam off so the body simply fell as she took a step backwards to keep it from scuffing her boots.

The miners fled in a panic and Quinn moved towards his lord. A single civilian—braver than she was bright—screamed and rushed him with a shovel. Quinn shot her in the chest before holstering his weapon and continuing to close the distance between himself and Fallon as she made her way to the center of the room.

Fallon leaned against a barrel and offered him a warm smile, the rust in her eyes fading until they were brilliant orange once more. “So, did you listen to Wokun as I suggested, Captain?”

The use of his title felt playful, more than authoritative. Perhaps the closest he had ever come to having a nickname that he didn't hate.

“I did.” He folded his hands behind his back, standing at parade rest. “Regrettably, I don’t have a good grasp of Ancient Sith.”

She chuckled. “It’s actually a modernization of Ancient Sith, a revival of the tongue.” The way she said revival of the tongue stirred a small longing in his chest. “The plot itself is convoluted, but I can offer a summary if you’d like and Quinn?”

“My Lord?”

“Pretend to be nonchalant. We’re waiting for a General.”

He smiled despite himself, a tiny laugh breaking out of his mouth. He leaned against the barrels at her side. “Of course, my lord. Now, about that second movement, precisely what was going on?”

Fallon’s eyes were bright, warm, as she began to explain. Wokun, she said, translated loosely to Only One and the opera followed a class of prospective apprentices vying for the attention of Sith.

To his shame, Quinn found that he was retaining the plot, but none of the details. His eyes dipped to her full mouth, the perfectly painted lips and the sharp spurs of bone that jutted from her chin, and then up to the gold around her eyes.

He remembered intimately the way her brow lifted when she'd said he could 'show her a little attention'. This was attention (he always paid attention to her) but much like wondering if she had simply come to enjoy his presence, the way he had hers, Quinn wondered if she might have just meant… attention.

Fallon’s lips pulled to a smirk and he knew she noticed. He'd heard stories of the sith being able to read emotion and wondered how much of his own, private, longing she was privy to. But she didn’t seem displeased and he could still remember how soft the skin of her ear was the few times it had brushed his lips. Which had felt pointed and inviting.

“Is it common within the Sith Academy for entire clusters of students to be slaughtered?” he asked.

“No. Though it does happen," she said. "It’s more common on Korriban than on Dromund Kaas.”

“Did you study at Korriban?”

“For the end of my tutelage. I had been at Dromund Kaas, studying to serve under Master Bralvao Zorn.” Fallon’s smile faded. "She had me sent to Korriban for the end of my instruction and was there to greet me upon my victory.”

Quinn's expression puzzled.

Fallon shook her head a little. "She was outplayed some years later, after I had become a lord. Darth Baras subsumed her assets, myself included."

"If I may, it seems like you held some affection for your former master."

"I did," Fallon answered. "My family and hers are some of the few who follow the older Sith teachings. Taking an apprentice is an act of adoption, of blending the familial lines. Sith Alchemy is unpredictable, but your descendants are a surer form of immortality."

"Is this why you adopted Jaesa legally, my lord?"

She gave him a smile and it warmed through him. "She is a remarkable young woman. And yes, in part."

"In part?"

"She needed a home, Quinn," she said. "All her life Jaesa has been recognized for her abilities, for what she can do for others. The Jedi wanted her power, her parents wanted her to elevate their status. Gesselle used her to outmanuver her political rivals. She needed someone to love her for her, to nurture her growth in the direction she desires."

It was, as far as Quinn could tell, an unusual motive for taking an apprentice, but they were interrupted by voices coming down the tunnel before he could work out if he should ask. Fallon turned her head, looking little more than bored as General Frellka and his soldiers stormed down the tunnel.

Frellka himself was an older man and his soldiers were enthusiastic. He stopped short as Fallon straightened and turned to address him.

“You show uncharacteristic mercy, Sith," Frellka said. "Letting most of Varl’s crew live. Even if you did murder him.” He kept his weapon pointed at her face. “I am General Elaxis Frellka of the Republic Strategic High Command. Your incursion here is a violation of the—”

“Yes,” Fallon said, interrupting what was promising to be a speech and affecting near-boredom. “I know who you are. That’s why I’m here.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Sith.” Frellka held his chin up high. “It’s unfortunate that you’ve discovered our plans, but no matter. The wheels are already in motion. Our new technology will deliver arms superiority to The Republic and I’m ready to give my life to defend this installation.”

New technology? No one had mentioned anything about that. Quinn kept his blaster trained on the man to Frellka's left.

“What exactly are you talking about, General?” Fallon asked, her tone clipped.

Frellka smiled coldly. “You don’t know? Oh, this is too rich." Mocking Lord Noicrothatch was always a mistake. "Men! This Sith must not be allowed to reveal our operation! Attac—”

Quinn fired, catching the man to Frellka’s left in the throat as Fallon crushed Frellka’s trachea from a distance. They dispatched the rest of his contingent of men and Fallon knelt to begin rifling through the General’s pockets, making a small, pleased noise as she pulled out his keycard.

"Shall we see what he was babbling about, Captain? she asked, holding the card between two fingers and then offering it to him.

"At once, my lord," Quinn said.

They moved to the mainframe and Quinn inserted the card and began to search through the files until he located something called Project Siantide. He relayed the information as he found it.

"What is Project Siantide?" she asked.

"It appears that the Republic has found a way to turn the residue of the life-forms killed in the Taris bombardment into an energy source," Quinn replied.

"Ghastly," Fallon said with some bright amusement. "Download the files and send them to Lieutenant Pierce. Then see if you can locate our next victim."

"At once, my lord." He did so and then found the location of General Minst at a nearby reactor.

They strolled from the mine and Fallon's comm beeped. She produced and it and Quinn irritation, offered a small, professional smile to Lieutenant Pierce.

Her eyes narrowed as Lieutenant Pierce updated her on the situation, that Moff Hurdenn (in the lieutenant's opinion) was killing their chances of actually dealing with General Durant’s battalion. On a surface read, Quinn agreed that it would have been better to follow the General, rather than attack him outright, but Moff Hurdenn was privy to reports that Captain Quinn and Lieutenant Pierce were not.

Not every moff was Broysc.

Fallon lifted her chin, nostrils flaring just a little.“Summon the Moff,” she growled. “I will address him.”

"M' lord."

Moff Hurdenn was too busy preening to notice Fallon’s displeasure, and that was something of a feat. She seethed silently through his self-aggrandizement, her nostrils flared and her yellow eyes narrowed and tinged with copper.

She was breathtakingly beautiful and Quinn was intensely grateful that her expression was not directed at him.

For a number of reasons.

He held his tongue when she snapped at the Moff and ordered him to withdraw his troops and give Pierce’s Black Ops squad the chance to scour for Durant’s headquarters. The relationship between the military and the Sith was tense and somewhat nebulous, but for all her might, Fallon was a lesser lord and should have at least pretended it was a suggestion. Moff Hurdenn apologized and complied. Fallon clicked her holocomm off and Quinn wanted to comment that it was Hurdenn’s call, not hers and certainly not Pierce’s.

He held his tongue, rather than risk losing it.

At first impression, Minst appeared to be a somewhat panicked rodian.

"He seems skittish, my lord," Quinn said. "More so than I would expect from a general with Minst's reputation.

"I agree," she said evenly. She shifted her head a little. "Are you left or right handed, worm?" Then as if for Quinn's benefit, she added, "always start with the off-hand." In the same tone she used to instruct Jaesa.

"Noted, my Lord."

“Minst” stammered and tripped over himself, causing Quinn to swallow a laugh. He'd never heard a rodian trip over their strange, musical tongue before.

The imposter cracked. << I—uh—I can’t do this. I’m not General Minst, I’m just a grunt. I’m not going to die for this.>>

Fallon gestured elegantly for him for continue. In exchange for the just the hope of his life, Minst’s imposter offered Minst’s location (the fallout shelter) and revealed that the reactor was set to explode in five minutes, taking the warning system off of mute.

The countdown was undeniable, echoing off the metal walls to reverberate around them. Fallon was unshakeable, and Quinn took his queues from her. She took the code to the shelter and snapped the rodian's neck, turning on her toe. "We should hurry."

"Yes, my lord."

When they reached the door, she handed off the code to him and stood to guard his back. As the countdown wore down his fingers felt too slow. Too clumsy. Even though he never missed a number. He could think his way out of a lot of situations but a reactor explosion wasn’t one of them.

Moreover, the imminent threat of death brought with it to mind the very real threat of ending the time he spent with her. She would die. The Empire would suffer.

But mostly…. he didn’t want to lose her. He wanted a hundred more nights with her opera playing and her smile warm and knowing. A hundred more battlefields following the carnage in her wake.

He didn’t want to be vaporized himself, truth be told, but that felt frustratingly secondary in the immediate.

He heard the hum of a lightsaber and kept his eyes on the keypad.

“Quinn?” She asked.

“Nearly, my lord." He fought to keep his tone controlled. "However, this place will explode in exactly ten seconds… now.”

“The reactor core will self-destruct in ten seconds,” the system confirmed.

"Well, if there's anything you've been holding back, I believe now is the time."

His index hit the button to enter the code, knowing it was probably too late. “I believe you know how I feel about you, my lord."

He looked up and met her yellow eyes, finding her brow furrowed.

But then the door opened and she waved her hand, throwing him into the safe room and then diving after him.

The door slammed closed behind them and an angry rodian (who did, in fact, look like the imposter they’d confronted) accused Fallon of recklessness.

"General Minst, my lord," Quinn said, trying to brush past his admission.

Fallon stared at the general, almost as if she was struggling to comprehend his presence. Tendrils of darkside energy curled over her shoulders like a lover’s hands, petting down her arms. She blinked as Minst babbled about how he should have sacrificed his advisor instead. She raised one elegant, gloved hand, and snapped Minst's neck, twisting it a full 145 degrees before nodding at the advisor.

Quinn shot him in the head.

The scream of the blaster shot lingered in the small, metal room. Fallon turned and studied Quinn, forcing him to consider what he said as she let her eyes devour him and the tip of her tongue wet her lips.

They were achingly alone.

They were achingly alive.

His breath caught. Fallon was still glowing with power, towering and inspiring and deadly. She considered him without reservation and he wanted her to act. Wanted to pin or be pinned and let himself drown in relief that they were alive and that she existed.

She opened her mouth to speak when they were interrupted by her comm. Her expression swung back to composed professionalism and Quinn exhaled and forced himself to be relieved, rather than disappointed.

“Pierce here," Pierce said.

“Report, Lieutenant," Fallon responded.

“Tracked General Durant’s battalion, led my black ops troopers on a recon run. Found Durant’s hideout. He’s got a full battalion guarding the compound. They’re establishing a perimeter of electronic defenses around the General.”

“Send me the coordinates. I’m on my way.”

“Sent. My black ops troopers and I were able to slip past the perimeter before they got the systems online, but we were spotted. We’re taking fire. Outnumbered. Should be able to hold them off long enough for you to get through but that’s it.”

“I’ll be there promptly.”

“Well, we’re not going anywhere. Knock out those defense systems. We’ll hold position for you. Or worst case, our bodies will slow down their charge.” Pierce drew himself up and performed the first salute Quinn had seen him offer. It was flawless and that made its earlier absence all the more suspicious. “Proud to have served, My lord. Pierce out.”

Fallon gave Quinn a silent nod to open the blast doors. Whatever they might have said or done, the moment was past.

And as Quinn put the code in, he tried very hard to be relieved about that.

Behind him, Fallon conjured Jaesa. “Jaesa, get the Rakghoul vaccine and get to the surface immediately. Meet Quinn and I at these coordinates.”

“Yes, Master.”

The door opened and Quinn turned to look at Fallon. “Will she be in time, My Lord?”

“We will clear a path for her," Fallon said.

Jaesa met them at the coordinates to Durant’s compound, following the trail of bodies Fallon had left. Her robes were spotless but Quinn could smell charred skin and hair as it clung to her. Purple-black light arced over her shoulders and down her arms like lightning and her eyes glowed a dark rusty orange.

“There you are, darling,” Fallon beamed. “Help me clear the way, will you?”

“With pleasure, Master,” Jaesa said in her low voice. “I have longed for a chance to test my skills beside yours.”

Fallon's chuckle was warm and dark and Quinn wanted to drown in it.

With two sith working in tandem and Quinn’s blaster picking off the strays, the trio made their way through the compound, disabling the defenses. Every time Fallon’s holo buzzed, it was Pierce with a more urgent update. The black ops troopers were dying.

But the time they destroyed the second laser gate, Fallon was informed that Pierce was down to three men against three hundred. “Hoped we could take out a whole battalion, my lord,” Pierce said with a worn smile, clutching a blaster burn in his side. “Seems we’ll come up short.”

Pierce was going to die valiantly, and Quinn was alright with that.

“They were weak,” Jaesa said as the comm flickered out.

Fallon shook her head. “No, Wontyuk," she said. "The odds were insurmountable, and to take out nearly half a battalion with a handful of troopers is no mean feat. All we really have to do is mop up and kill the General. I’m most impressed.”

“As you say, Master.” Jaesa’s cheeks were red with embarrassment from the percieved rebuke and Fallon set a calming hand on her shoulder and then pet her cheek with her knuckle.

Motherly.

“It’s a lesson, Jaesa. Embrace it as you embrace all the others.”

Pierce was alive when they found him, his knuckles bloody and the body closest to him having been beaten to death instead of shot. He looked up at the sound of boots and dragged himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall. “My lord,” he grunted. “I spent all my ammunition and I’m down to my last medpac, but Durant’s battalion is down.” He exhaled, face screwed with pain. “So is my unit. Never seen men stare death in the face more bravely.”

Fallon’s features warmed. She closed the distance between them and pulled her spare medpac from its pocket in her pants and set it in Pierce's hand. “You did well. Will you survive?”

“Lost a lot of blood, but I’ll try to get back to base and get patched up. General Durant and his guards have retreated inside the compound. Proud I ushered you to the doorstep, my lord.”

“And laid out quite the welcome," Fallon praised. "I’m beyond impressed, Lieutenant.” She turned and looked at Jaesa. “Jaesa, ensure the Lieutenant makes it back to base and is treated immediately. Then you may take the evening to enjoy yourself. Taris is famed for its wines. Please also take a bottle to the ship for Vette.”

Jaesa smiled and set her hand over her heart, giving a low bow. “Yes, Master.”

Fallon watched Pierce limp after Jaesa with an almost maternal fondness and then turned back down the hallway. “Have you caught your breath, Captain?"

Quinn smiled despite himself. "Yes, my lord."

"Good. We might need to jog."

General Durant was human and physically unimposing. His only advantage was that his blaster was using a prototype of the Siantide batteries. He fired it exactly once, catching Fallon in the shoulder. She screamed—more with fury than pain—and her right arm went limp as the bolt hit with enough force to shatter the bones in her shoulder and knock her off balance.

"My lord!" Panic lanced Quinn's vocal cords as he shouted.

Fallon's arm flapped behind her as she sprinted forward, swinging with her off-saber. She severed his right arm in exchange for hers and kicked him onto his back, Force blasting his special blaster out of arm's reach and setting her boot on his throat, with just enough pressure to keep him pinned but not strangled. Her chest heaved.

“You will not… defeat… General Faraire,” Durant croaked.

“You won’t be around to hear about it.” She pressed down with her toe, like a child compressing a noise-making toy. Durant fought for air, making small rasping noises. “You’re lucky,” she growled. “My right arm isn't the worst thing you could have damaged."

Quinn watched, unsure of her meaning but more importantly mesmerized as Durant clawed at her shin and then went still. “Shoot him to be certain, Captain," she said as she stepped away.

Quinn put a hole in General Durant's head and moved to check on his lord, hand already producing a painkiller from his medpac. "My lord, are you—"

“I will need to spend the evening recovering.” She interrupted him. “You’ll have to drive.”

“Yes. Of course my lord.” He held up the syringe. "May I?"

Fallon nodded and Quinn pressed the syringe above her collar bone, able to breath in her blood and sweat. He stepped away once the drug was administered.

Fallon's comm buzzed and she pulled it out with her left hand, clearing away any sign of pain from her features. “Jaesa.”

“My master,” Jaesa said, bringing her hands together and bowing her head respectfully. “Darth Baras called and has been updated. Both he and Moff Hurdenn wish to speak to you.”

“Patch them through, Jaesa.” Fallon’s eyes flicked to Quinn’s, as if daring him to mention her injury. He shook his head once—he would not betray her confidence—and fell into parade rest as Darth Baras flickered into place on the comm.

“Lord Noicrothatch, your progress has been conveyed to me, and I have been briefed on the search for General Faraire. Moff Hurdenn informs me that Faraire has relocated all of the Republic’s forces on Taris to protect his command center at the Republic stronghold.”

“Then we know where to find him. Excellent.” Fallon answered.

“First, you must convene with me. This assault will take all our firepower. I’ve summoned your crew to the base, they will all be utilized.”

She nodded.

“And I’ve informed Moff Hurdenn that you are commandeering the entirety of his forces.”

“Yes, Right.” Hurdenn flickered into view. “They are yours to command, my lord.”

“Good.”

“You will finally sink your teeth into full-scale war," Darth Baras said as he took the spotlight again. "Rest for the evening, then rendezvous with Moff Hurdenn at dawn. There is much planning to do.”

Fallon lowered her eyes respectfully and kept them lowered until the comm flicked off. She exhaled and looked at Quinn. “Take the General’s blaster, Quinn. We may need it.”

He picked up the blaster and holstered it.

"If I may, my lord," he said. "I was top of my class as a field medic."

The little smile she offered was worn, but affectionate. "I have wanted a chance to keep you up all night."

"You need to rest," he said, pushing his luck and more worried for her than about what she might do to him for speaking out of turn.

"There's no time. But with your help, I'll be able to use the arm tomorrow. Come."

Sitting in front of her on the speeder was strange. He tried to be as distant as possible when seated behind her, out of respect and self-preservation, but Fallon had no such qualms. Her left arm curled around his waist and latched onto his belt to hold herself secure. She let her cheek rest against his shoulder and he could feel the change between her cheek and bone spur as she pressed tight to his back. He could feel his heart race and he knew she could hear it, but Fallon said nothing.

She didn’t even comment on what he told her before the reactor exploded.

He followed her into the quarters he requisitioned and she turned. "I need you to pull the jacket off."

"My lord," he said. He stood behind her and grabbed the lapels of her jacket, pulling it down as she freed herself. The gasp she gave was sharp, but nothing more than a gasp.

Fallon turned and he was able to see the wound. The crimson skin was blackened around the injury. "Quinn," she said.

"My lord."

"I need you to go get three medpacs, some kolto, the strongest adrenal you can get your hands on, and Jaesa. Bring them and whatever you need to plan my assault back here."

He nodded. "At once, my lord."

He found the medical supplies first and then took them with him to find Jaesa. She was outside, watching the dark sky as it moved.

"Jaesa," he said, holding himself firmly.

Jaesa turned her head, purple-painted lips pulled to a scowl at the interruption and her burned orange eyes full of hate.

Quinn stood his ground.

"Her lordship requires you," he said, watching the change on Jaesa's face, from hate and irritation to understanding. "She's been injured."

Jaesa was on her feet immediately. The change was remarkable, the love that Fallon inspired, the devotion.

Quinn handed Jaesa the medical supplies and watched her leave before going to procure the information available on General Fairare's compound before rejoining the sith.

Jaesa was sitting on the edge of Fallon's mattress, the conversation low and ending enirely when Quinn joined them.

"Good," Fallon said as Quinn closed the door behind him. She looked at Jaesa. "Are you familiar with Force healing techniques, darling?”

“Some, Master,” Jaesa’s tone was gentle. She lifted a small cloth to catch the blood seeping from the hole to run in rivers down Fallon’s crimson skin.

“That’s all I need. Quinn?” She looked up and locked eyes with him. “You’ll handle the other half of this. I need the stim to keep me conscious and your expertise setting the shoulder while Jaesa and I focus on the damage.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Jaesa curled both of her hands around Fallon's right. Her eyes moved to the wound and then back to her master and Fallon offered a little chuckle and a small nod. Jaesa snaked her tongue out to catch some of the blood running down Fallon’s arm.

“I apologize for the impulse, my master,” Jaesa said.

“Don't apologize, Jaesa. I've been known to fight the same urge on occasion.” She looked at Quinn and her smile sharpened. “Care for a taste?”

The corners of Quinn's mouth ached, but not at the thought of blood. The invitation to taste her skin was almost more than he could stand. “Not my appetite, my lord,” he said.

"Suit yourself," Fallon said.

They worked for six long hours before Fallon sent Jaesa away to rest, kissing her temple, and injecting the stim into her inner thigh with her left hand, Quinn still holding her right arm to keep it in place.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"Fine, my lord," he said.

"Good." She arched her head back and Quinn watched her throat. She exhaled and fell back into her trance.

Her tolerance for pain was remarkable. Her focus was praiseworthy.

It was an hour before dawn when Fallon tried to rotate her arm. The pain was there, Quinn could see it in the way her jaw tightened, but the arm moved. She bent it up and rotated her wrist before turning her attention to Malavai. “Can you still plan my battles, Captain?”

“I can,” Quinn promised and gestured to the pad on his lap. “I’ve been studying. I’ll take a stim before the meeting, not my habit but—”

“Desperate times," she finished for him. “You failed to mention that you were a medic when you pledged your service to me.” Fallon raised one brow. “A grievous oversight, Malavai.”

He smiled a little and gave a short bow. “Forgive me. I’ll strive to be more forthcoming in the future, my lord.”

"Mm," she said.

Quinn excused himself to the refresher to clean up and take a stim.

Fallon was the last one to the Council, but no one who wasn’t told would have been able to guess that she had been up all night and grievously injured. The only hint was the flash of white bandages beneath her coat. She held her head high, eyes bright and commanding.

"Let's begin," she said, offering Darth Baras the barest acknowledgement.

“Yes," Darth Baras said. Quinn couldn't tell if the slight had been noticed, but trusted it had been, and that Baras chose not to say anything because the mission was more important. "Time is of the essence. Lieutenant Pierce, Captain Quinn, bring Lord Noicrothatch up to speed on our enemy’s activities.”

“Yes, my lord.” Quinn bowed his head before turning to address Fallon. “It’s a fairly complex situation—”

“General Faraire, the War Trust’s most senior member, is garrisoned in a fortified wing of the Republic’s base,” Pierce interrupted, pulling Fallon’s attention onto himself. Quinn bristled, but forced himself to remain still and silent, professional. He would not be overshadowed by the guid at his side and the Lieutenant was, at most, a momentary irritation. “He’s got a huge army protecting him, more reinforcements on the way. We’re outnumbered eight-to-one.”

“My Lord,” the title was just a little strained as it left Quinn’s mouth, pulling Fallon back to him. Her mouth moved, offering the hint of a smile before it returned to interested placidity. “The Lieutenant’s statistics are inexact, but the general thrust is sound. The numbers favor Faraire, but there are ways around that.”

“Bet he’d like to give you the general thrust,” Vette murmured to Fallon’s left, just softly enough that no one commented and loudly enough that Quinn was certain everyone except Baras heard. He wasn't even sure if she meant him or Pierce and that was probably the point.

Fallon’s mouth twitched. But only a little. “What do you have for me, Captain?” she asked.

Quinn nodded and folds his hands behind his back, outlying the plan he’d spent the night devising and the morning rethinking.

Three simultaneous strikes. The power station, the spaceport, the conscripts.

“Captain Quinn will coordinate from the base," Darth Baras said. "You will lead the frontline offensive. Beyond that, decide how to assign your men.”

Fallon nodded. Once Darth Baras had left the call, she turned her attention more fully to Quinn. "How protected is the power base, Captain?" she asked.

"Traps, mostly, my lord." He inclined his head a little. "I would suggest that Vette has the most experience with them."

"Aw," Vette said with a teasing laugh. "You noticed."

"Be careful, Woyonuks," Fallon said. "And quick."

"You got it."

Fallon turned back to Pierce. "That leaves you to handle the spaceport."

"I'll get it down," Pierced assured her. He eyed her warmly and Quinn wondered if he was imagining the way the Lieutenant’s eyes dipped down to nestle in the crimson ridges of Fallon’s sternum.

“Good luck, My lord,” Quinn said, hoping his eyes conveyed everything his tone and posture couldn’t. “I’ll be coordinating the assaults from here via holo.”

“Very good, Captain, I’ll see you upon our return, when I have Faraire’s head for my wall.”

“Don’t worry, Captain.” Pierce leered and Quinn hated him. “The real soldiers have got this one.”

"How is she progressing?" Darth Baras asked. They had a few moments before any of the three assaults began and that meant Quinn checking in with his true master.

"There has been nothing out of the ordinary, my lord," Quinn reported. "She remains a loyal servant of the Empire."

"I did not ask about the Empire, Quinn," Darth Baras reminded him. "She is headstrong and difficult."

"Yes, my lord."

The light on the console blinked, offering a reprieve. "Forgive me, my lord, Vette has encountered the traps at the power supply."

Darth Baras ended the call and Quinn returned to his duty coordinating the assault.

As suspected, Vette went through the Republic’s traps like they were nothing, Quinn could hear her humming over the comm (Nexus Bloody Nexus from Wokun) and wished she would stop but couldn't deny her efficiency.

Maybe the humming helped.

He tapped into Fallon's comm to report Vette's success.

Fallon smiled. “To no one's surprise. I'll something nice set aside for her when we return to the ship."

“She’s quite useful when she applies herself, my lord.”

“And Pierce?” There was a teasing brightness to the way she asked.

“The Lieutenant was able to sabotage the Republic spaceport force field controls,” Quinn said, perhaps a little dryly.

“After his success with Durant's battalion, I'm not at all surprised.”

Quinn nodded. “Yes, it seems that under that insubordinate exterior lies quite the capable soldier.”

To his mortification, Fallon laughed. "Was that a compliment Captain?"

He cleared his throat, eager to be done talking about Pierce in anything that could be misconstrued as a positive light. “Now the General’s reinforcements will be caught behind the force field and unable to join in the fight. Still, the General’s elite guard clogs the way to the command center. They are quite formidable.” He wanted to express his worries, make sure her arm was alright.

“It would be boring otherwise.”

I hope you’re entertained, my lord,” he said dryly. He took a risk and licked his lips, letting his posture soften just a little. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, Quinn.”

He could hear the smile as she said it, imagine the warmth in her yellow eyes. He cleared his throat. Now was not the time. It would likely never be time.

He summoned Pierce to meet him at the back of the compound and when Faraire tried to run, he ran directly into the sights of Pierce’s blaster and was forced to walk backwards back into the room where Fallon and Jaesa had beaten him.

“Not so fast, General," Quinn said, perhaps a little smuggly. "I thought you might try to run.”

“Always precisely where I need you,” Fallon said. "Quinn you are a marvel."

Quinn’s chest swelled with pride, a Moff beside him, his enemy in front and Fallon standing there looking bemused and just a touch surprised.

The General surrendered and Fallon shrugged in response to his petition for capture. Her lightsaber passed through him easily and he collapsed in pieces. As Fallon hooked her lightsaber back to her belt, Quinn watched her for any sign of injury, but she seemed fine.

Jaesa was grinning at the corpse and it was more than a little unsettling.

"Master?" she asked.

"Yes, darling," Fallon said like an indulgent mother. "But you have to store the head in your room until you get it cleaned. I won't have you upsetting Vette with it."

Jaesa carved General Faraire's head off.

And just when things seemed to be looking up, Moff Hurdenn gifted Lieutenant Pierce to Fallon.

"Works for me," Pierce said. "Done what I can here on Taris. Glad you're willing to let me go, Hurdenn." Not 'Moff Hurdenn'. Not sir. Overly familiar and somewhat disdainful.

"Good," Fallon said. "I was going to insist."

Pierce barked a laugh.

Quinn frowned. “Fall in, Lieutenant, I’ll brief you on how things work here once we are aboard The Black Sky.”

Aboard The Black Sky, Quinn was forced to watch in horror as Fallon accidentally (he hoped) destroyed any hope he had of deluding Lieutenant Pierce into thinking that her operation was run as a traditional military one. She tossed her jacket on the back of the couch and undid her bandage, checking the injury to ensure that she hadn't exacerbated it during combat.

Vette hissed with sympathetic pain.

“I’m fine, Woyonuks,” Fallon assured her, reaching up to pet Vette’s head fondly. “Bring me something to drink and then tell me everything I missed.”

Quinn was too aware of the way Pierce was paying attention as Vette lightly bonked her head into Fallon's. “You got it.”

Pierce had been holding undue influence over Moff Hurdenn somehow and Quinn realized immediately that if Fallon did have a weakness, that weakness was Vette.

Malavai inclined his head to Fallon, quietly petitioning for dismissal. When she nodded, he left the lounge but headed for the galley instead of the cockpit.

Vette was humming to herself, pulling down the crystal bottle of brandy to add it to the drinks she was making.

"Vette," he said, keeping his voice low.

Vette gave him a suspicious look and lowered the unopened bottle.

He closed the distance between them, ignoring her immediate defensiveness as she backed into the wall and brought the bottle of brandy up like a shield or a weapon. "Be careful around the lieutenant."

Vette frowned at him and lowered the bottle. "I'm careful around all of the Imperials." She turned as set the brandy down to start filling Fallon's glass, flapping her wrist at him dismissively. "Except you because I know you know Fallon will feed you to the airlock if you try anything."

"Precisely," Quinn said. "Jaesa is a sith in her own right, but you are the weak link. I believe Pierce was blackmailing his previous superior."

He met her eyes evenly to see if she understood.

Vette nodded, lekku shifting behind her head. "I get it," she said. "I'll watch my back."

"Good."

"Also," she said. "If you corner me like this again I will hit you with whatever I'm holding."

Quinn nodded and headed back to the cockpit.

He would shoot her himself before letting her be used against Fallon.

Chapter Text

Fallon cries out sharply, her head tilted up and back to accommodate Quinn’s hand around her neck. The steam from the fresher rises up in a mist around them as Quinn drops his left hand to her clit, massaging in small circles as she tenses and squeezes around his cock. Harder, she breathes. More. She arches back to catch his mouth and sinks her sharp teeth into his lower lip, pulling away from him and turning so they are face to face. Her long red legs wrap around his waist and her nails tear into him. More.

It was almost a routine at this point. Quinn woke in his bunk, rock hard and breathing like he'd been in a fight. He could taste her on the edge of memory and managed his difficulty quickly so he could dress and use the fresher.

This time, however, it wasn't too long after he'd turned in for the evening and that meant there was a chance she was still awake. With three other people on the ship finding a moment to speak to her alone was already difficult. Finding a moment to speak with her alone about things he didn't want to deal with the others about was damn near impossible.

So Quinn took the opportunity.

He headed for Fallon's chambers, taking the opera drifting through the closed door as a good sign. He knocked and the door opened, revealing Fallon on her bed, wearing the little black negligee that had starred in so many of the dreams he needed to talk to her about.

He stepped into the room and the door closed behind him.

“Something on your mind, Quinn?”

“My lord,” he jumped right in, feeling that if he didn’t speak precisely as he rehearsed he’ll lose the whole thing. “You’ve caused me some… difficulty, and I’d like to confirm it was unintended.”

Fallon set her brush aside, turning her torso slightly to give him her full attention.

“Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but some time ago it seems you expressed an interest in me beyond our professional relationship.”

"Some time ago," she echoed. "Would this be after we picked up Jaesa, or when you moved into the stronghold, or on Taris, or earlier at dinner?" Fallon drew herself up, from lounging to sitting to standing and with the topic being what it was, Quinn couldn’t help but let his eyes follow the long slope of her crimson legs beneath her near translucent sleeping robe.

“…Yes.” He cleared his throat and forced his eyes to hers. “Which is why I bring it up. I’ll admit you have a knack for… surprising me. I’m typically swifter on my toes. I should have immediately said that any personal involvement between us could cloud judgement and jeopardize your campaigns.”

Fallon took a few strides towards him, robbing him of the distance he was using as a shield. She set her hand on his chest and his heart fluttered under the jacket. “You’re a brilliant analyst, Malavai," she said. Her other hand lifted and her fingers brushed against his hairline as his hands fell to her hips like they'd always belonged there. "Do you honestly think risk has ever dissuaded me from something I was interested in?”

He shook his head silently and when her mouth brushed his, barely more than a tease, he reacted. His mouth pressed to hers, kissing her hard. Her tongue coaxed his mouth open and he groaned against her teeth.

He had wanted this for a year.

But he couldn't.

He pulled away and Fallon let him. She tilted her head, curious and playful, smirking victoriously. Beautiful and fierce and everything he’d never let himself want.

But if Baras needed her dead, Quinn would have to play the trigger man.

It wasn’t just her campaigns that he might ruin.

“This…" His eyes fell rebelliously back to her mouth even as he tried to make his excuses. "My lord, I am drawn to you, make no mistake. But this should not continue, it’s… improper.” He felt like a child, hiding behind rules because he was frightened. His hands rose slowly, grudgingly, off her hips to fall back at his sides, limp and useless.

Fallon took a step back. Her eyes moved to his mouth and he forced himself not to kiss her again. She gave him a small nod, little more than an acknowledging tilt of her perfect chin. “I’m old enough to practice restraint in some areas, and I have no intention of forcing the matter.”

Taris had been a nightmare, they had almost blown up, her arm had been broken, he'd had to sit back and wait while she took the front lines (not something he usually worried about).

He'd admitted, though not in as many words, that he cared for her. That he might even be in love with her. And there he was, watching her want him the way he wanted her.

Which almost made things alright, but mostly just made them more complicated.

“You’ve given me much to think about, my lord.” He chickened out with a small bow. “I will return to my duties.”

The door opened behind him and Fallon smiled. “Malavai?”

“Yes?” the response wavered more than he meant it to.

“It’s late, get some sleep."

“So.” Vette flopped onto the settee, waiting for silent permission before she set her head in Fallon’s lap. “Is Lieutenant Mountain moving in?”

Quinn had hoped that his conversation with her in the galley would have encouraged Vette to be more cautious, but it hadn't and, frankly, he felt a little stupid for thinking it might.

Fallon huffed a quiet laugh and set her hand on Vette's forehead, knuckles petting the blue skin. “He already been assigned to our ship, Vette.”

“Yeah, but is he moving in because the image of him and Captain Paranoid sharing a room is hilarious.” Her grin sharpened, teasing and vibrant. “Do you think there’ll be pillow fights?”

“Absolutely not!” Quinn’s eyes flashed towards the refresher where Pierce was taking his time and thus not involved in the conversation. “My lord, I would—”

Fallon held up a hand to silence him. “If Pierce does move in, he will be afforded his own room.”

“He could always stay in yours, Master.” Jaesa hung against the wall, a glass of blood red wine in her hand. “I heard him offering his… services… earlier.”

Quinn’s expression cleared, carefully keeping the fury from his features. His eyes flickered to Jaesa’s and her mouth moved to a cruel smile. Of course she knew. Sensing people's desires and secrets was one of her particular talents.

“The lieutenant merely wanted to be certain I knew he was fit for duty in whatever way I required,” Fallon said with a small laugh. “But even if I were interested in taking him up on the offer, he would be afforded his own room. It would take something extraordinary for me to share my space long-term with a man, even the one in my bed.”

“So you’re not interested in him?” Vette asked.

Quinn was forced to wonder if she was ignorant of his attraction or purposely goading him, both were equally likely and in any case he couldn’t do anything but listen and wait for the answer.

He sipped his caf.

"My interests lie elsewhere, Woyonuks. Don't pry."

"Alright," Vette said with a little huff.

For Quinn it was a victory.

Their next assignment came a few weeks after leaving Taris. It gave the crew time to settle into the change in dynamic having a fourth person on the ship induced. Vette, Quinn noticed, did avoid the lieutenant as he had instructed, but Jaesa seemed broadly indifferent to his presence and Fallon… seemed to like him.

More than once Quinn left the cockpit to get another cup of caf or something to eat or to relieve himself, and the two were sitting in the lounge just talking.

While it was comforting that her eyes would move to Quinn when he passed and she'd smile a little, it did seem like the lieutenant was already displaying undue influence over her.

Not that there was anything Malavai could do about it. She was Sith and he wasn't in anyway permitted to voice his concerns over her social engagements. Particularly not after trying to put a wall between the two of them.

Not that he felt he'd done so successfully.

"Message from Darth Baras, my lord," Quinn said, stepping into the lounge.

"'bout time," Pierce grunted.

Fallon rose gracefully from her seat. "Put him through, Quinn," she instructed.

Quinn did so and the translucent image of their master clicked into place.

"Lord Noicrothatch," Darth Baras greeted.

Fallon tipped her chin slightly.

"The War Trust's dismantling has been your finest hour, but a new challenge arises. One of our missing targets, Admiral Monk, has revealed himself. As you may recall, my master, Darth Vengean, set off to conquer the fringe systems and inspire the Dark Council to reignite the war."

"I recall," Fallon said evenly.

"Somehow, Admiral Monk caught wind of the plan and was waiting in ambush. He is laying siege to the flagship as we speak!"

Fallon turned from Darth Baras. "Quinn. Now."

"At once my lord," Quinn said, moving back to the cockpit to plug the coordinates in. He turned on the intercom so he could hear the lounge in case of further instructions.

"Master?" Jaesa asked, implying that the call had ended while Quinn was moving. "I can feel the irritation arcing from you."

"Blind old men and their petty ambitions," Fallon said. "Pierce, select your largest armament and join me at the airlock. Vette, I want you to take the guns in case the admiral's ship is not alone. Jaesa, you are to join Captain Quinn in the cockpit to receive further instruction. Hone your attention on me, darling, it will tell you if something goes awry."

"Yes, master," Jaesa said.

"You got it," Vette confirmed.

"Captain," Fallon said, to the intercom.

"Yes, my lord."

"Begin monitoring all transmissions in the area as soon as we jump from hyperspace."

"Yes, my lord."

Darth Vengean's ship was, indeed, already under siege when they arrived. As instructed, Quinn began to monitor the comm channel as The Black Sky connected to the dreadnought via the umbilical.

"Captain," Jaesa said, standing by the window with her orange eyes fixed on the ship before them. "How long have you served Darth Baras?"

"A decade, my lord," Quinn answered without looking up from what he was doing.

"How closely?"

He looked up at that. "Not particularly," he answered. "Darth Baras had more important things to do than micromanage his tools." His face turned back to the comm channel. "And I had my duties on Balmorra."'

For all they were worth.

"He seems small," Jaesa said. "Scared. He reminds me of the nobles on Alderaan, so preoccupied with their own schemes that they had lost touch with the world at large."

Quinn bristled because that was… if not treason at least treacherous. But he couldn't rebuke Jaesa. She would just kill him and he had a job to do.

The flare of anger did however, cause Jaesa to turn. Her bright eyes were cold, calculating, and for a long, tense moment, he wondered if she knew that he served Baras above Fallon.

She turned back to the window suddenly. "Something's happened."

"Is she alright?" he asked immediately.

"She's furious," Jaesa answered. "She burns like a cold star." He could hear the smile as it spread across her painted mouth. "I hope she lets me help."

Quinn allowed himself a moment to wish he had been with her instead of Pierce. However, he wasn't and so he continued to monitor the situation until a call came in.

"Captain," Fallon said.

"My lord."

"Dock with the Quesh Orbital and bring Jaesa down to the planet's surface with you. I will instruct Vette personally."

"Of course my lord," he said. "May I ask what happened?"

Over the holo the smaller details of her face were lost, but he had spent over a year reading her moods. He knew her nostrils had flared with irritation. “Moff Masken is dead,” she answered. “A leak he blamed on Baras and myself. The Admiral has escaped, somewhere on Quesh.” Her lips curled up and back in a snarl. “There are pieces out of place, Captain, and I dislike being taken for an unwitting pawn.”

"I understand," Quinn said. "We'll join you promptly."

Any concerns Quinn might have had about how pleasant Quesh was going to be were shoved gracelessly to the back of his thoughts. He pulled up the wrist of his jacket to let the medical droid innoculate him against the highly toxic atmosphere before he and Jaesa boarded the shuttle that would take them down to the planet's surface.

Quesh was of considerable tactical importance. Top rate stims and adrenals were manufactured here by the Hutt Families. Both the Empire and the Republic had a presence, but hostilities were—or at least had been—kept to a minimum.

Who knew how that was going to change with the war, however.

Fallon and Pierce were waiting near the arrival point. She touched Jaesa's cheek fondly and then held herself straight. “Pierce,” she said. “I want you and Jaesa to assist the Military while we’re here. Speak with Moff Dracen and keep in constant contact with me.”

“Why?” Jaesa asked. “It will be done, Master, but—”

Fallon shook her head. “Because, Wontyuk, this war is more important than the in-fighting of the Sith and it would seem that some of our 'superiors' have forgotten that. I intend to remind them and to keep the Empire strong while doing so.” She turned to Quinn. “Quinn, if you would prefer, I will take Pierce with me to deal with Admiral Monk and you can report to Moff Dracen.”

Quinn looked at the Lieutenant and tried to convey triumph amidst nonchalance. He was given a choice. Pierce would have his leavings. “No, my lord.” Quinn shook his head. “I will stay with you.”

Fallon nodded and gave him a small smile but he couldn’t ignore the hint of something worrying hiding in the corners of her yellow eyes.

Couldn't ignore it, but he also couldn't ask. It would be out of line, undermine her position in public, and blur the lines between what they were and what he wanted them to be more than those lines already were.

He followed her away from the base, keeping pace so he was beside her but never stepping in front. She was quiet as they took a speeder to where Admiral Monk had fled. He sat on the back and resisted the urge to pet his hand over her arm and try to… steady her.

Not that she needed to be steadied.

Not that she needed him at all.

Fallon exhaled as they parked. "This may be unpleasant," she said.

"I am with you, my lord."

"I know," she said.

He followed her into the shelter, blaster drawn.

Admiral Monk and his men didn't seem frightened of Fallon. Which was strange, most people were at least a little afraid of her, but Monk was angry instead.

"What does Baras think he's doing, sending you here after me?" Admiral Monk snapped. "Is he trying to make it look good? Give himself an alibi? Because you can tell him 'mission accomplished." He was growling and tense. "Almost all my men are dead. You've done a great gob making this look legit." He jabbed his finger into Fallon's chest. "Now back off!"

Fallon grabbed the Admiral's extended finger and snapped it. He screamed and his men pointed their weapons at them.

"How long have you been working for Baras?" she asked. "He just sent me to kill you."

Monk cradled his hand to his chest and snarled at her. “This is foolish! We’ve been loyal to him for over a decade; our covers are intact. Why would he destroy something so valuable?”

Quinn couldn’t help but hear Fallon's complaints about how Darth Baras discarded Rylon from more than a year ago. Baras’s habit of casting away useful tools. Although, having a highly-positioned Republic Admiral seemed like the sort of thing it would be smart to hold on to.

Then again, Rylon had been well respected.

It didn’t bode well for her, he thought. Fallon was useful, clever and powerful, but she was headstrong and Quinn understood at least the basis of how the Sith worked. Darth Baras would tolerate her as long as she walked the gentle balance between useful and threatening and then nip her in the bud.

It was brilliant, if disconcerting.

Fallon cut Monk down and then advanced on his men. Quinn looked at the body on the floor and wondered how long it would before the Empire's greater good required Baras to dispose of him. It would be a while at least. Baras needed him as insurance against Fallon and Quinn owed him everything.

He had been loyal for ten years. Loyal, well-positioned, and unable to rise up even if he'd wanted to. All he had ever wanted to do was serve.

He would stay loyal.

"Quinn," Fallon said.

"My lord."

"I've had enough of this place."

"Agreed," Quinn said. They left the shelter and he took a moment to be bold. "My lord," he said. "If I may?"

Fallon raised her brow at him, surprised but seemingly unannoyed, and gave a slight nod for him to continue.

"I don't know what Jaesa and Lieutenant Pierce are pursuing for Moff Dracen, but it seems likely they will be occupied a while longer."

She nodded. "Yes."

"The cantina caf will not be to your standards, my lord, but I would be happy to procure you a cup."

The way she smiled warmed him in ways Quinn knew would be a problem later.

"Unorthodox, but I don't remember the last time someone asked me to caf," she said. "Thank you, Malavai. I appreciate the sentiment."

Caf was had in quiet in a corner of the command cantina. Despite the lack of conversation, Quinn found himself more relaxed. Fallon sipped her drink and he didn't ask what was on her mind, watching the dark wheels turn behind her beautiful face.

Was there more he could do, he wondered?

Was it strange to be content in silence beside her?

They received a call from Jaesa that they were closing in on a Jedi Master who had been causing problems.

"Wonderful, darling," Fallon said. "Return to the ship when you've finished, I'll want to hear everything."

"Of course, my master."

Fallon tucked her comm away and rose, Quinn getting to his feet after.

Standing in line for the shuttle, he felt something curl around his thoughts. Something warm, soft. It exerted no influence and made no demands. It was just there, comforting and… affectionate.

He turned his head a little to see if Fallon was feeling the same thing and she gave him a small smile.

It was her.

A gift. A reward for anticipating her needs.

Quinn swallowed and tipped his chin down.

The sensation passed, but did so gently, like fingertips slowly leaving his own, prolonging the contact for as long as they could.

Pierce took extra time in the refresher when he and Jaesa returned to The Black Sky and Quinn was mostly just glad he didn't have to deal with him. Jaesa sat at Fallon’s feet to regale her about taking down a Hutt and Republic Adrenal factory. Fallon smiled faintly, pulling her brush through Jaesa’s dark hair as her apprentice described kicking Master Fraal into the Quesh Venom.

The certainty that Baras would betray her felt out of place when Quinn watched her lavish affection on her own apprentice.

But then… Baras had won Fallon in a game of manipulation and power. Fallon doted on Jaesa.

He'd looked up a history of sith traditions and found that, centuries ago, the family line was traced through power, more than blood. Taking an apprentice—formalizing that apprentice—was taking an heir.

Jaesa, legally in the eyes of the Empire, was the daughter of Fallon Noicrothatch.

And that was… different.

“You seem tense,” Vette said, flopping onto the settee on Fallon’s other side, careful not to jostle Jaesa with her knee. “Anything I can do?”

“Very likely, Woyonuks,” Fallon said, setting the brush aside. “Tonight, however, I just want some girl time.” She smiled at both Jaesa and Vette. “Come on, I want your opinions of some things.”

“Ooh!” Vette grinned. “Can we break into the brandy you’ve been saving?”

Fallon nodded but the chuckle Quinn had come to expect in response to Vette’s inane antics didn’t follow it. “I don’t see why not.” She extended her hand and took Jaesa's as the other sith stood.

Something about the whole interaction was suspicious, but there was nothing Quinn could say as Jaesa and Vette follow Fallon into her room.

He shook his head and returned to the cockpit.

Later, Quinn listened in as Fallon lied to Baras, claiming that Admiral Monk must have killed Moff Masken. Since Monk himself was dead, Baras declared the mission a success and lavished her with praise that was painfully insincere. Quinn’s stomach hurt.

To distract, he turned to monitoring the comm channels and came across a series of broken Imperial Signals on one of the encrypted channels he was familiar with. The interference was impressive, but after an hour he managed to trace the source.

He didn't want to interrupt Fallon's time with Jaesa and Vette, but as he uncovered that the person sending the distress signal was Major Ovech, he felt didn't have a choice.

Quinn had respected Ovech, and he largely still did. The Captain (at the time) had been one of the few officers willing to speak out when Broysc was unstable. He had first put Quinn on tracking down Voloren and when Quinn was court martialed had been the one voice arguing in Quinn's favor.

Which was probably why he was sent to Balmorra and not Hoth.

He hit the intercom, rather than interrupt in person. "My lord," he said.

"Yes?" Fallon asked.

"I request an audience at your convenience."

"I'll be right there."

The line went dead and Quinn swallowed, hoping she wouldn't be annoyed at him for the disturbance and that she would understand the urgency.

Fallon stepped into the cockpit with her hair down and wearing a soft dress meant for lounging. "What do you need?" she asked.

Quinn stood and held his shoulders stiffly. "Forgive the interruption, my lord. I've been tracking a series of broken Imperial signals on an encrypted channel. Tremendous interference. I've identified the source—Major Ovech, commander of Moff Broysc’s elite infiltrator unit—but that’s all I’ve found.”

Fallon nodded, and (thankfully) didn’t comment his tendency to harp on Broysc as a theme. Ten years of having a powerful man dedicate himself to destroying Quinn’s life was apparently an acceptable reason for an almost obsessive grudge.

“Do you know Ovech?” she asked.

“I served with him for many years,” Quinn answered, fighting the urge to smile at the memories. “He’s a tactical thinker and inspires staunch loyalty from his men. Moff Broysc’s ship does not respond when hailed and my gut says there’s trouble. Permission to investigate further?”

“Of course, Captain.” Fallon said with a little glow in her eyes. "Tell me what you find."

He saluted as she left the cockpit and then settled back into his chair, intending to have results for her promptly.

Chapter Text

With Fallon’s permission, Quinn was able to dedicate actual resources to clearing up the channel enough to establish contact.

He waited for Fallon to join him at the holoterminal before patching the line through. Quietly, Quinn felt a spark of relief to see Ovech again. A major now—the promotion well deserved—and still every inch the example he'd been when Quinn had been a younger man.

Maybe everyone felt that way about their first real superior officer.

"My lord," said Major Ovech. "Your captain there is one in a million. I'd given up hope anyone out there would hear my distress calls."

Quinn’s chest swelled with pride. It was good the think that the fondness was shared between them. That he'd left an impression on one of the finest men he’d ever served under.

Fallon gave a knowing nod. “Captain Quinn has proven invaluable to me time and again.”

“Wish I still had him in my detail.” Ovech gave Quinn a glance for a moment before returning his attention to Fallon. “Probably would have avoided this mess.”

"You can't have him back," Fallon said with a tiny smile. "What's happened?"

“Moff Broysc dispatched me and my officers to a secret weapons warehouse on Cato Neimoidia. Trouble is, it ain’t a secret no more. We’re holed up, surrounded by Republic forces. Trying to get Broysc to send the rest of my unit, but he’s gone radio silent.” Ovech shook his head and sighed. More irritated than surprised.

“It’s worse than that, my lord,” Quinn said, folding his hand behind his back. “The major’s ship has been commandeered by the Moff’s personal commandos and ordered to stay put.”

Falon reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why the fuck—” the swear felt indelicate on her painted mouth and Quinn loved it.

He cleared his throat and tried to unthink it.

“That tears it,” Ovech snorted. “Seen it a hundred times with Broysc. Better to cut bait and let good soldiers die than admit a mistake.”

Fallon lowered her hand. “Actually, it sounds more like Moff Broysc wants you dead. Any idea why?”

“Same reason he demoted and exiled Quinn, I’m guessing.” Ovech frowned. “I’m his only officer who’s not shy about my opinion.” The sound of blaster fire erupted from the holo. “Enemy was just pausing between breaths, gearing up again. Looks like the end of the line for me, but I’m not going down without a fight! Ovech out!”

The channel went quiet and Quinn spun on his heel to face her, speaking quickly. “My lord, Ovech would be a terrible loss. I served on his ship, I know it like the back of my hand. I can infiltrate and try to restore command to his men. Then they would be free to join the fight.”

“Move out immediately, Captain.” She ordered. “Take the shuttle.”

“Coordinates are--”

“Immediately,” She repeated. “We’ll pick you up. Go.”

He turned and as he was leaving her hand caught his elbow, long nails a shiny accent against his black uniform. "Send me Ovech's personal frequency once he's secured."

Quinn nodded sharply. "Yes, my lord."

Quinn returned two nights later, his chest still pumping from the adventure. Pierce, even, looked a little impressed with him, though it wouldn’t last. He forced his breath to even out as he made his way to the cockpit. Fallon was in the Captain’s chair when he entered the room. He didn’t care why Vette wasn’t flying. All he cared about was that they were alone and he was victorious.

He cleared his throat for her attention and snapped a sharp salute as Fallon turned down her music. She smiled and rose, stepping around the chair so they were face to face.

“My lord, returning from action.” He smiled despite himself as his arm dropped. “Pleased to report that Major Ovech and most of his officers were saved.” He remembered what she said about wanting a story after Voloren and cleared his throat, willing to try at least. “I was able to infiltrate Ovech’s starship and seize control of the operating systems, disabling Broysc's men to avoid costing the Empire any further. I identified where his men were being held, freed them, and locked Moff Broysc’s occupying force on the Bridge using a false alert to draw them there and disabling control of the blast doors through the system. Ovech’s men promptly rescued him.”

He didn’t have a gift for storytelling, but his enthusiasm was apparent and her yellow eyes glowed fondly. Her eyes dipped to his mouth and he thought about the one kiss they shared and how good it would be to share another.

His heart threatened to race again.

“Efficent, quick, and clever,” Fallon said. She took a step into him, tall and warm and smiling. “I find that level of competence extremely attractive."

“I—thank you, my lord. You’re too kind.” He cleared his throat. “The Empire is stronger with Major Ovech, it would have been a shame if he was squandered. Thank you for the opportunity, I will return to my duties.”

Fallon smiled. She shook her head a little and pressed a small kiss against his cheek, doubtlessly marking him with her black lipstick while he froze.

His head turned automatically as she pulled away, mouth trying to catch hers despite himself and despite everything. "Eat something and rest, Malavai," she said. "Your work will still be here."

He licked his lips and nodded "Yes my lord. What's our heading?"

"Hoth," she said as she brushed past him out of the room. "Get some rest."

Hoth was in the running for worst planet in the galaxy as far as Quinn could tell. Most of the Imperial military felt similarly. It was a common 'joke' that the reason the Empire played nice with the Ascendancy was so good Imperial soldiers had to spend less time on the ice ball. Quinn looked at the holo-projected map and shivered automatically. Hoth was lifeless and frozen, the storms played havoc with communications. There were probably worst posts, but they were all invented by particularly sadistic brass.

He didn't usually feel grateful for being sent to Balmorra, but looking at Hoth was one of those moments.

“Captain?” Fallon said, the sliver of a smile in her tone.

“Back in the day I managed to escape assignment here,” he explained. “It chills my bones just to be in orbit around this frigid planet.”

“Uhm, yeah,” Vette gave an extremely fake cough. “You should leave me on the ship.” She coughed again. “I think I’m fighting off a cold.”

Pierce snarled. “Forget those cowards, my lord. A little snow won’t stop me. I’m ready for action.”

“The soldier mirrors my attitude, master, I want to consume every experience I can.” Jaesa’s tone was low and even, she eyed the holo with hunger before looking back at Fallon.

Fallon nodded, her smile dark and sharp. “Well, that’s straightforward enough. Vette, Quinn, you’ll stay here. Pierce, Jaesa, let’s go murder a Jedi Knight.”

“Yes, my lord!” Pierce grinned. He shot Quinn a dirty look and then looked back at Fallon. “And if you get cold, I can get hot enough for the both of us.”

Quinn's jaw locked to keep from growling, which was not helped when Vette gave a sassy snap and both she and Jaesa laughed.

Fallon rolled her eyes, but her smile was warm and inviting. She disappeared into her quarters and re-emerged in layers, wearing white for the first time in Quinn's memory. She adjusted her gloves and smiled fondly as Pierce and Jaesa joined her near the airlock, dressed similarly.

“Captain,” she turned and gave Quinn a nod. “The ship is yours.”

Vette left him alone and Quinn wasn't sure why. He usually wanted her to leave him about, but there was something unsettling about the fact that she suddenly, was. Normally she found some excuse to pester him, but the ship was silent, devoid even of music. While on his way to the fresher, Quinn found Vette working on… something, one lekku over her shoulder. She chewed her lower lip and stroked the lekku for comfort and then she shrugged it back and resumed typing.

Quinn returned to the cockpit, waiting for orders. His personal comm buzzed and Quinn straightened immediately as he produced the device from a pocket and gave Darth Baras a low bow. “My lord.”

“Quinn,” Baras’s voice was almost slick when he spoke, demanding an update of their activities, just in case Fallon had overlooked any details. Quinn was as precise and emotionless as possible as he answered every question honestly and provided extra information surrounding each event.

“Well done, Captain. I shall be in touch.”

“Yes, my lord,” Quinn said. The channel went dark and he deflated. At least Fallon was serving the Empire. She was useful and beneficial and brilliant and hopefully she wouldn’t give Baras any reason to eliminate her.

Hours passed and it would be dark near Dorn Base, where Fallon was heading to meet Commander Lanklyn. The ship’s holo beeped and Quinn’s eyes lit up. He took the call at the terminal, rather than in the cockpit and forced himself not to smile when he saw her, bundled up in a thermal suit with her hood down because she was calling from inside. The line was staticy and she wavered in miniature, distorted as the signal struggled.

He hoped Pierce was miserable.

“Ah, Captain,” she said over the static. “Good. I want you to resupply and refuel while you’re docked with the Orbital station. We’re going to be here a bit longer than expected. Xerender’s super weapon is Jedi Master Wyellett and there’s a rogue Talz in the mix." She shook her head a little "Moreover, Baras was frustrated with Commander Lanklyn. Update our records to show that Commander Slinte is now in charge of Darth Baras’s dealings on Hoth.”

“Of course, My lord.” Quinn gave a small bow. “You seem in high spirits.”

“The cold air gets the blood boiling.” Fallon offered a sharp smile. “And I’ve decided that, after a particularly poor choice of words on Xerender’s part, I’m going to rip his throat out with my teeth.”

Quinn couldn’t help the image: blood dripping down her chin like apnack juice, her eyes vibrant and alight with power as her tongue snaked out to lick her lips clean.

It wasn't uncommon for Sith to feast on the blood of their enemies—particularly Sith who were more traditional the way Fallon was—perhaps she’d finally found one she considered worthwhile.

“Very good, My lord,” he said, sounding just a touch more strained than he would have like. He wanted to ask if she intended to take Pierce up on his offer of warmth but it wasn’t his place.

And he wasn't sure he wanted the answer; remembering Breev back on Tatooine. Sith embraced and fed their passions.

“How are things aboard the ship?” Falloned asked.

“Quiet, my lord. I think Vette is up to something, but I’m not sure what and it’s keeping her quiet.”

“Her project has my sanction,” Fallon said easily. “And I’m impressed with your restraint. Inform Vette that she has an extra stipend of two hundred credits for personal use while she’s resupplying.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The channel went quiet. Quinn relaxed and let himself smile at the empty space. Alone, where no one could see him, he hoped she was staying warm, that the hunt was proving worthwhile and invigorating.

That she was thinking of him.

Her skin is soft and lightly scented. Fallon’s thigh tenses as his teeth graze it but the way she curls one hand in his hair is encouragement enough. She smells like the rain on Dromund Kaas, she smells like the smoke clearing from a battlefield, she smells like everything he has wanted to serve. He circles her clit with his tongue and feels her arch backwards, crying out his name with abandon, her nails on his scalp. When her cries become more desperate, Fallon claws at his jacketed shoulders and pulls him up, her legs wrapping around his waist. He tastes blood when he kisses her. He melts into her.

He heard nothing for another two nights. To fill the space he played music in the background: Jen Saarajikut, Wokun, Hylahâsk, a few others because anymore the silence felt deafening.

Further troubling was just how relieved he was to see Fallon’s face over the holo, her stern crimson features redone in wavery monotone blue and her head held high and victorious. “It’s done, I’ve updated Baras as to the deaths of both Xerender and his Master Wyellett.”

Quinn’s heart beat hard in his chest. “I’m pleased to hear it, My Lord.”

“Thank you, Captain. You may expect us within the day.”

“Yes, my lord. I'll alert Vette.”

The call ended and Quinn headed from the cockpit to the engine room. Vette was lying on her bed, feet kicking as she scrolled through something on the datapad she was reading.

"Her lordship will be returning shortly," he said.

Vette startled at the intrusion and rolled to look at him. "Good," she said. "Being cooped up with you is the worst."

Quinn snorted. "Your presence is preferable to Pierce's but only by the smallest margin."

To his surprise, Vette smiled. "Right? I'll have to remind myself that being stuck with you is only the second worst."

Quinn nodded. Common ground at last.

Fallon returned to the ship a few hours later with Pierce and Jaesa and carrying a sealed bowl. Quinn met them in the lounge beside the Holoterminal. “My Lord, I trust everything went well?”

“Marvelously,” Fallon purred, her eyes aglow. “Pierce, I need to check in on Vette but we'll continue our conversation afterwards."

"Yes, m'lord," he said. He laughed. "No way he’ll drink it. He’s got less stomach than that twi’lek.”

"Pierce," Fallon said with a bemused huff.

“I have a name!” Vette shouted from the engine room.

Fallon transferred the bowl to just one hand and shooed him before turning to Jaesa. "You may have the first turn in the shower, darling. Then take the evening to yourself."

"Yes, master."

Once they were alone, Fallon holding her bowl and Quinn still at parade rest because he hadn't been dismissed and felt no desire to leave, Fallon turned her full attention to him. He expected her to say something exasperated and fond about the others, but instead she peeled the lid off her bowl and offered it to him. “It will need to be reheated, but I thought you might enjoy it.”

Quinn took the bowl, allowing himself to frown in confusion, and looked down at the most frozen scarlet liquid. “My Lord?” He looked back at her, waiting for an explanation.

“You’re not squeamish, are you, Quinn?” She raised one brow like a challenge and he recalled Pierce’s parting shot. “Bloodsoup," she explained. "Courtesy of Jedi Knights Xerender and Wyellett. My father’s take on the recipe, missing a spice because apparently no one on Hoth uses irroc.”

Quinn was silent for a moment, lips parting in surprise. “I… I'm… overwhelmed, my lord,” he managed softly, rendered almost speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well." Fallon's smile was warm and affectionate. He couldn't tell if the slight darkening of her red cheeks was real or his imagination but it made his insides flutter. “It is generally considered rude to talk with your mouth full.”

“I did it!” Vette’s shout ruined the moment, her elation crashing through the intimate silence of Quinn, Fallon, and a truly personal gift.

Fallon’s eyes narrowed briefly with irritation and then her expression cleared, a small smile on her mouth. “Duty calls. Enjoy your soup, Captain.”

For the first time, as she left to investigate the source of Vette’s delight, Quinn watched her leave and almost begged her to call him Malavai.

He reheated the dish in the galley and then carried it to his room. He'd never taken food to his bunk before, but it was better than risking his enjoyment of this gift on Pierce stomping in and reminding him that he existed. He settled on the bed with the bowl on his knees and tasted it. The blood came through, reminding him of all the times he’d swallowed his own, but then there were the spices. The dish was spicy, but not overwhelming. There was a sweetness beneath the copper that he couldn’t place.

As he ate, he remembered Fallon's threat to tear Xerender's throat out with her teeth. An indirect kiss through the blood of an enemy.

It was good. He smiled at the bottom of the bowl, spoon against it. He liked it.

And he felt treasured.

Loved.

Chapter Text

Fallon decided on a detour on the way back to Dromund Kaas and it was not Quinn’s place to question. They docked on Nar Shaddaa and Fallon instructed the crew to take some leave before she and Vette disembarked. Vette was bouncing on the balls of her feet whenever she stopped walking. Looking clearly excited but also more than a little nervous.

Quinn was outside checking the landing equipment and Pierce swaggered down onto the dock.

“You’d think Fallon was takin’ her to a prostitute for the first time,” Pierce commented, leaning against the ship and chewing loudly as he watched them leave.

Quinn shot him a withering glare. “Lord Noicrothatch,” he corrected automatically. “And your crassness knows no bounds, Lieutenant. I am certain there is something more productive for you to be doing.”

“Not right now," Pierce said evenly. "And I take my orders from her direct.” He pointed after Fallon with the same hand that was holding his snack. “So, Captain, are you ever gonna actually fuck her?”

Quinn set his jaw and refused to dignify the question with a response. Probably, Pierce was solely trying to get a rise out of him and Quinn was determined that it wouldn’t work.

“Leave it too long and I’ll get there first.”

Not for the first time that afternoon, Quinn wondered if Fallon would have believed that the Lieutenant had committed suicide or wandered off or simply needed to be shot.

She wouldn't and Pierce was a competent soldier and an important part of her power base.

But it would have been nice.

“Hah! Your skin's too thin, Captain.” Pierce pushed off the landing gear, huge and leering. “She’s Sith. Proper Sith. I’d be disappointed if she really went for your tepidity and all that stuffed shirt posturing you do. Maybe she just wants to see you break.” He laughed again. “Well, shore leave is shore leave. I’ll be back when she needs me.”

Quinn was grateful for the silence.

Jaesa left shortly after, out for blood or pleasure or both in one of the seedier districts (and nowhere did seedy like Nar Shadda).

Quinn, alone, took some time in refresher to work out his frustrations, grateful for the empty ship as he did. He dried off and combed his hair into place, heading to the cockpit to try and improve productivity in some vein or another.

“Not enjoying your shore leave, Captain?” Fallon asked, stepping into the cockpit. “I did suggest the crew take some down time while I was busy here.”

“I was recalibrating our firing algorithms, my lord.” Quinn lied, standing up and straight before he gave her a small nod. “We should see a small increase in accuracy.” He’d been wondering where she was, what she was doing. If she was thinking of him. He had been trying to recalibrate the firing algorithms, because it would have been productive. But he hadn't gotten much done.

“I’m sure that will please Pierce once he’s back.” It was clear she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t press.

He wanted to say something about how he didn’t give a solitary bantha shit about what pleased Pierce, but he refrained. “Was your business here a success?”

“Yes,” Fallon said with a little smile. “You might even have a little bit of peace for a few days." Rather than elaborating, Fallon simply turned and exited the cockpit. "We’ll continue on to Dromund Kaas once Jaesa and Pierce return."

"Quinn," Fallon said as they reached the spaceport and were waiting for the shuttle that would take them into the city. "I want you to accompany me to the Sanctum to see what Darth Baras wants."

"Of course, my lord," Quinn said.

He sat beside her on the shuttle, listening to Pierce and Vette chat about furniture placements. They were contriving some plot to annoy him, Quinn was certain. But perhaps Vette would split her efforts between harassing him and harassing Pierce.

“So you’ve decided that the Lieutenant has a place in the stronghold?” he asked, almost accidentally using the nickname for the apartment.

Fallon’s mouth shifted to a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, her long legs shifted, brushing his. “He proved himself on Hoth. While Pierce is crass and disrespectful, I’ve found him driven and loyal. I have faith in his service to me.” She chuckled. “Moreover, he makes me laugh.”

Quinn didn’t quite feel it when he said, “Very good, my lord,” but he managed to get the words out without choking on them or frowning too deeply.

"Are you worried about my affections, Malavai?" she asked.

Quinn shook his head automatically. "It wouldn't be my place, my lord. Though I do worry with regards to his… record." His eyes flitted briefly over to where Pierce and Vette were talking.

Fallon nodded, unconcerned. "He'd found out about Moff Hurdenn's rodian mistress and used it to actually get things done on Taris. I have no skeletons that can be used against me."

Quinn frowned a little. Vette and Jaesa were potential weak points, but he couldn't say that.

Fallon gave him a smile. "Pierce and I have an understanding where the girls are concerned. As do you and I."

The understanding being unspoken awareness that any harm that befell either girl at his hand would be extracted from him by ounces.

The taxi stopped by the stronghold first and the rest of the group disembarked. Fallon exhaled and Malavai watched her careful wall fall a little, her mood souring as they got closer to the sanctum.

They stood outside the massive black building and she turned, expression serious. "Quinn, I suspect that Baras is going to order me to move against Darth Vengean. When he does, your first and most important duty will be to keep yourself alive and at a distance.” Her jaw tensed. “Is that clear, Captain?”

Quinn blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. “Yes, my lord.”

"Good."

She turned and strode into the sanctum, Quinn on her heels.

Darth Baras wasn't there. At least not in person. Fallon didn't look surprised as she looked up at the hologram.

"Listen up," Darth Baras said. "Plan Zero was always my desire. I've been whispering in my master Darth Vengean's ear for years. Incitingfull scale war was but one goal. The other was the downfall of Darth Vengean so that I may ascend his seat."

Fallon nodded.

"The council doesn't appreciate being undermined—they're all but calling for Vengean's head. A strike against him now would be met with universal support. How would you like to face off against one of the twelve most powerful Sith in the galaxy?"

"My schedule is free," Fallon answered, without the respect Darth Baras was due, but Quinn couldn't rouse the surprise.

"I suspect it is," Darth Baras said dryly. "There's another wrinkle. Darth Vengean's apprentice, Lord Draahg, has been secretly working for me—which Vengean discovered before I could recall him. Vengean's rage is growing. You must free Draahg and face Darth Vengean together."

She inclined her head and turned on her toe, billowing out of the room.

Quinn hesitated, turning his attention to Darth Baras.

Baras gestured after Fallon.

Quinn saluted and hurried after his dark lord.

Keep yourself alive and at a distance. They were strange orders from a Sith. Quinn couldn’t help but wonder why she'd given them. He had hopes, but they felt presumptuous.

Over the nearly two years he had served her, Quinn had seen Fallon in countless conflicts and he had reveled in the precision and the fury, in how blissful she was as she sliced clear through the obstacles in front of her. There was anger, but the anger had always been positioned beneath her adrenaline fueled ecstasy.

This was different. The heat was missing. Fallon dispatched Vengean’s disciples and guards but her eyes didn’t glow. Her mouth was a thin line, the razor smile was missing.

Something was wrong and Quinn couldn’t ask what.

They found Lord Draahg in a torture chamber. He was a human male strapped to an interrogation table with weak life signs. There was a long moment where Fallon studied the apprentice like she was making a decision. She sighed and gave Quinn the go-ahead. He produced a stim and stuck it in Draahg’s arm as Fallon spoke. “Lord Draahg, Darth Baras sent me. My man is administering a resuscitation stimulant.”

“I—” Draahg winced and moved, sitting up and rubbing his wrists. “I’m grateful. To you and to Baras. I look forward to serving him directly once Darth Vengean has been destroyed.”

“I was told you know where to find him.” There was something different about her voice. Empty, dispassionate, icy.

“He’s in his inner sanctum," Draahg explained. "Communing with the dark side, channeling his rage and power. We have to confront him there, but it won’t be easy to access.”

Quinn watched Fallon's face as Draahg outlined the defenses and what needed to be done. Her expression remained unmoved when he gave her a small bow and swore that they would make a good team. She met Quinn’s questioning glance with a small shake of her head.

Draahg flattered her when he met them at the final door to Vengean's sanctum. Fallon narrowed her eyes at him. “I have little patience for false praise, Lord Draahg,” she said, the hint of a snarl underlying the words.

“Then believe it’s sincere,” Draahg replied. “I almost didn’t make it. There were traps in the passages. I got the key, but Darth Vengean almost certainly knows we’re coming.”

“Irrelvant,” Fallon said.

“I will feed off your confidence," Draahg said as he began to enter the passcode.

Fallon caught Quinn's eyes while the other sith was distracted.

He had his orders.

Quinn gave her a silent nod.

The door opened.

Darth Vengean was indeed waiting for them. He threatened Draahg, which Quinn expected, but he turned his eyes to Fallon and gave her a dark smile. “And you. Before you, Baras was but a bit player. He would be nothing without you.”

Quinn bristled.

“I'm aware," Fallon answered coldly. "Baras’s true talent is acquiring the brilliant. Not that it matters in the moment, however.”

“Your talents are wasted on that man,” Darth Vengean said, shaking his head and wrinkling his nose. “It sickens me. Your master doesn’t deserve you. He’s a coward, pushing buttons from the darkness. You and I are people of action.”

“I am,” Fallon nodded. “You were.”

“You’ve been outplayed,” Draahg drawled. “Darth Baras has shown the galaxy that your wits are dull and your reach is short.”

“Enough!” Vengean shouted, the room rocking as he did. “I will not be insulted nor patronized! Beg me. Beg for mercy and I will kill you quickly.”

Finally, there was a flicker of true emotion on Fallon’s face. Her mouth twitched and her lightsaber ignited. “I do not beg.” She leapt forward and Draahg darted to her side.

As instructed, Quinn hung back, firing at the Darth and administering kolto from a distance to keep Fallon on her feet as the Dark Lord bombarded her with blow after blow.

But, as he had noted before, Fallon was an indomitable force. She commanded Darth Vengean's attention until Draahg drove his lightsaber into Vengean's back. The dark lord's howl was cut short as Fallon severed his head and it hit the floor with a bounce.

She accepted Draahg’s compliments with silent contempt and then nodded and turned to leave—Quinn at her side—when he said he needed to clean up a few things before he met her back in Baras’s chambers.

The walk back—over the corpses—was silent.

Quinn wanted, with every fiber, to ask if she was alright. To be her confidant in this moment when she clearly needed one.

But Fallon was silent, and he couldn’t ask her to place her trust in him and more than she already had. He was loyal to Baras and he would have had to be blind to not know that Baras was the thing concerning her in the moment.

He knew that he couldn't be trusted. Not when it was between her and Baras. Not when he owed Baras everything.

Vengean’s death was another step in Baras’s rise to power, and the revelation of a secret apprentice was a troubling development.

But surely… it would be lunacy to discard her. Quinn had never seen someone more capable or more comfortable dealing out death and destruction. Even on the Council, Baras would need his enforcer.

Neither Baras nor Draahg were there in person when Quinn followed Fallon into the room. Instead, one of Baras's slaves assured them of his pleasure and that he was en route to Korriban to claim Vengean's seat.

At a loss for anything else to do, Quinn sat beside her in the back of the taxi. Almost without his permission, his hand lifted and moved, settling on her thigh.

This should be a celebration.

But all he could muster was simply to assure her that he was there.

The stronghold was quiet in the evenings and, despite the limited amount of time they were able to spend there, Quinn had found that it was more of a home to him than anywhere he'd lived in his adult life. Jaesa and Vette had gone out, enjoying the nightlife at the Nexus Cantina.

Malavai made his way up the long, curving staircase, past the Imperial flags and the flowers that decorated the walls, hoping for a moment of Fallon's time. Distressingly, not for any reason. He just wanted to spend the evening with her and over the near two years he had spent in his service, it felt reasonable natural to seek that out.

“Gaius,” Fallon said with a laugh. "You're such a tease." Her tone was warm and flirtatious and it curdled in Quinn's gut. He paused in the doorway, out of sight. In the dim light he could make out Fallon on the sofa and Pierce's silhouette against the window.

Also... Gaius? She was using his first name?

She knew his first name?

Quinn had had to dig to discover it because Black Ops was an appropriately black box.

“You know I’m good for it, my lord," Pierce said.

“Yes," Fallon said fondly. "But not out of any interest of your own.”

Pierce rolled his shoulders as he laughed. “Noticed that, did you?”

She gave an affirmative and girlish hum. While Quinn was… comforted that apparently the Lieutenant's lust was performative, he still didn't like how friendly the two were being.

“True enough," Pierce said. "I’ve never had a taste for women, my lord. Or men, before you start thinking I’ve got any interest in that trussed up ponce of a captain.”

Fallon’s laugh was rich and it carried.

Quinn leaned deeper into the shadows to keep from being spotted.

“Never crossed my mind," she said. "But I am curious, if you’re not interested in sex for yourself, why the offers? Just to upset Quinn?”

"That's more of a side benefit, and an easy one at that," Pierce said wolfishly. “Orgasms are good for the health, m’Lord.”

Quinn tried to be comforted that at least Pierce had the decorum to call her my lord even if every other aspect of this conversation is disconcerting.

And he was not a trussed up ponce. Not that he had any interest in Pierce or any concern for Pierce’s opinion.

“It’s good for the heart,” Pierce continued. “And what’s good for the body and mind is good for the job.”

“Very true.” Quinn could hear the way Fallon smiled. “And I suspect the strings people imagine around sex allow for you to predict their movements and propel yourself up the ladder.”

“Yes, m’lord. It’s a tool like any other.”

“Brilliant,” she praised. “And medically sound. I may suggest an arrangement to Jaesa, if you’re willing to… play doctor?”

“Long as I’m breathing at the end, sir.”

“I’ll be quite clear with her. She tends to find her own outlets, but when we're on campaign that can be difficult."

“I understand that." Pierce's silhouette shifted, making itself comfortable. "You know, it’s a bit of a wonder Quinn hasn’t tried to use it. Perfect excuse into your bed, my lord, as ship’s doctor.”

Quinn’s ears went red and his cheeks flushed. He looked around for something to discreetly knock over and interrupt the conversation, but there wasn't anything convenient and he wanted to hear her response.

That response was a rich, clear, laugh as Fallon stood up off the couch and crossed to the window near Pierce. The shape of her in the dim light made Quinn's knees weak. She touched the glass with one elegant red hand, watching the raindrops outside. “He’s the only person who thinks he needs an excuse. It’s almost as touching as it is frustrating.”

Quinn nearly stopped breathing. Something about her confiding in Pierce about it made it real. She wasn't just toying with him.

“Could just pin him in place, my Lord,” Pierce suggested.

Quinn couldn't help but picture it: being held in place by the sheer force of her will. One of her hands around his throat and her tongue in his mouth. He closed his eyes and bit the inside of his lip and slowly, careful to keep his footfalls from echoing, backed out the way he came, thinking to spend some time on the lower balcony under Dromund Kaas’s icy rain.

“Not unless he asks first." Fallon's voice followed him. "But a girl can dream."

Quinn closed his eyes, letting the movement carry him away. Jen Saarajikut, Fallon’s favorite opera. He exhaled and opened his eyes to look at his ceiling, realizing he had memorized the scene, even if the words were in a language he didn’t speak. Moxzae and her would-be lover (Shot Kunne, an impressionable Jedi) meet for the first time in combat and Moxzae swears that, not only will she break Shot Kunne’s guard, she will break her chains.

But it wasn't the content of the scene that worried him. The troubling part was that it was Fallon’s opera. She sang it in the refresher and hummed it when going about her day, favoring Moxzae’s parts because they were deeper. He had memorized all of Shot Kunne’s lines, even though he wasn't a singer himself.

The longer they went without news, the more Quinn worried. The crew fell into a routine in their downtime, becoming something Quinn couldn't quite… identify. The little dislikes remained, but there was a solidarity beneath it. They were a cohesive team, no matter how little they seemed to like each other.

And he wasn't unaffected.

While out at a market with Vette—running an errand—someone asked him about his slave and Quinn had the man's collar in his fist before he even really thought about it, snarling into the seller's face.

He and Vette had agreed to never mention it again.

But it was indicative of a change overtaking all of them.

Vette was Fallon's, Pierce and Jaesa were Fallon's.

He wanted to be Fallon's.

He had hoped, briefly, that as a member of the Dark Council, Baras might have been secure enough to not need to discard Fallon, but the more Quinn listened to Fallon instruct Jaesa, the more obvious it became that Baras was going to call on Quinn to end her.

She was too strong, too clever, too ambitious. She would be a threat to him as long as she was alive.

And Quinn, despite his efforts, was forced to realize that he had fallen in love with her. With everything about her. Fallon was a torch and she set everything aflame. Her voice, her smile, pulled him awake more than his caf ever had. Her presence more addictive than any stim or victory. He wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and belong to her. To watch her pull the Empire to glory.

But it wasn't even that innocent. He wanted to fuck her. He desperately wanted to fuck her. His nights were tormented by visions of her hips and tits and thighs. He imagined gripping her ass and sinking his teeth into her to quiet his cries as he drove her into the wall. The bed. The side of the refresher. His chair in the cockpit. The dining room table. The engine. The tall stronghold windows. Any surface he was forced to look at for more than about five minutes really. He wanted to grab her by the hair and thrust into her mouth and he wanted to drop to his knees and take her apart with his tongue so keenly that he blocked out every ambition or thought in her head if only for a few moments.

It was… the situation was untenable.

There was only one option and it may have proven to be the hardest choice of his career. Quinn pulled on his uniform, pressed and straight and checked his reflection to ensure his armor was perfect.

He was a Captain. In that moment, he needed to be a Captain more than he was a man.

He left his room and mounted the stairs to Fallon's bedroom. Quinn squared his shoulders, adjusted his jacket, and knocked, waiting to be admitted.

"My lord," he said, stepping over the threshold, the door closing behind him.

Lord Noicrothatch looked him up and down and a small confused smile curled over her mouth. “Captain?” She gestured for him to join her and he forced himself to just be grateful that she was actually dressed, rather than in her negligee. Jen Saarajikut played in the background, the same movement he’d been playing in his quarters. Her lordship waved her hand and it softened. Outside the rain beat the windows, adding an atmospheric soundtrack he could do without.

“Thank you for your attention," he said stiffly. "I must officially request to be reassigned.”

She stared at him for a long moment and then offered him a skeptical smile and raised her brow. “I assume you have a reason?” She stood up off the couch, meeting him on his level but not closing the distance between them.

“For the sake of you and the crew,” Quinn said, letting urgency drip into his tone. “I must speak freely.” He reached up absently and carded a hand through his hair, undoing all his hard work and looking away from her. “I am compromised. Thoughts of you have begun to… distract me. My feelings affect my ability to concentrate. I can not, in good conscience, continue to serve.”

She studied him for a long moment, her yellow eyes moving from his tousled hair to his mouth and then back to his eyes. She exhaled and tipped her chin a little. “If you insist on reassignment, Captain, it will be a shame, but I’ll grant it.”

Quinn’s mouth fell open. He hadn’t actually expected her to agree, but there she was, willing to let him go if it was what he requested.

"I'm not going to hold you against your wishes," she explained, answering the unasked question. "I respect you too much." She brought her hands up, palms towards the ceiling. "I value your contributions and Force knows how I'll find someone with qualifications, but if you want to go, that's all you have to say."

He didn't want to go and faced with the realization that she would let him, that she respected his wishes in a way no one ever really had before, he wasn't sure he could. Leaving wasn't going to get her out of his head, it was just going to rob him of what peace he had found when he was with her.

Wordlessly, Quinn shook his head and then cleared his throat. “I—No.” He swallowed. “I’m an idiot."

"I wouldn't go that far," Fallon said, moving towards him. "A little foolish sometimes, perhaps."

"Permission to kiss you, my lord?”

Her smile was bright and sharp as she stepped into him and his own expression warmed. “Malavai," she purred his name and it sent a shockwave through him. "You don't need to ask.”

Malavai grabbed her around the waist and jerked her into him. His right hand came up to curve around her cheek and he kissed her, hard. Her mouth was insistent against his and she pressed into his arms.

It had been so long.

Two years.

When the kiss broke he was smiling into her yellow eyes. “Now more than just duty and honor will be driving my work.”

“My parents used to tell me that passion was the true font of strength," she said, nipping his mouth again and pulling him gently back to the sofa near the foot of her bed.

"I believe they may have been onto something," he said.

Fallon chuckled, her eyes bright. "Maybe."

Quinn followed her onto the seat, pinned beneath her as she straddled his hips and combed her fingers through his hair. The little tugs sent shivers down his spine and as she rocked her hips over his he knew that she could feel how needy he was.

“I want to fuck you, Malavai,” she said softly. “But I can feel your conflict.” She kissed him. “There's no hurry.”

Quinn pet his hands up her sides. "May I stay for a while regardless?" he asked, mouth finding hers.

He could be her toy or her distraction or whatever she wanted him to be. At least for a while.

"As long as you'd like." Her strong red fingers pet down his front to unbutton his jacket, pushing his armor aside so she could worm her way beneath it. "Whenever you'd like."

Quinn found a certain freedom after that conversation, one he'd never had before. He noticed it first the next morning when he sat to read and drink his caf. Fallon’s hand lingered on his shoulder as she leaned over the table to select a piece of fresh fruit. Her hand moved to the back of his neck and then discreetly up into his hair to give a short, sharp tug that made his toes curl.

But instead of clearing his throat and looking down when she pulled away, Quinn caught her hand and drew her knuckles to his mouth. He was careful, he was certain that no one saw, but Fallon rewarded him with a smile and a squeeze of her hand, brushing her mouth against his temple.

They were small steps, but he had never felt more alive.

It was a mistake, and he knew it. Everything was going to be worse when it did come to a head because of these little indulgences. But Fallon’s nails in his hair set his scalp tingling, and he didn’t think he could bring himself to pull away now even if he wanted to.

He would be careful and not let things progress any farther, putting an arbitray line at actually fucking her for what would truly truly break things.

Even as he thought it, it felt like a lie.

Chapter Text

The brief interlude on Dromund Kaas felt to Quinn like a pleasant dream. He never kissed Fallon in front of anyone, but more than once he had spent most of an evening pinned against her, tasting her lipstick and trying desperately to find ways to make her cry out.

But Baras didn't remain idle for long and the dream ended when they were ordered back to Quesh.

He noticed the darkness around Fallon's eyes as she called her crew together.

"I'll go down myself and meet with Commander Ollien," she said. "Pierce, I want you to make yourself available to Moff Dracen, nothing long term but I'm sure there are Republic teeth that need to be kicked in. Jaesa, I want you to study while I'm gone. Vette, monitor communications. Captain—"

"I'll go with you, my lord," Quinn said. The assertion was out of place, but he recognized worry when she wore it and he needed to believe that she was wrong. That Baras wasn't striking against her yet. "I have the most experience with the military structure, it may be of use to you."

She nodded and didn't question his breach of protocol.

Quinn followed Fallon down from the Orbital station to meet with Commander Ollien at one of the Quell mines. He settled on the speeder behind her, hands on her hips and sitting respectfully back before a small, sharp smile curved over his mouth and he was seized with an impish impulse. He slid forward and gripped her more tightly, pressing a small kiss to the join of her neck and shoulder.

It had the desired effect. Fallon gave him a dark chuckle and revved the vehicle.

Maybe it would be alright.

Her eyes remained bright as Commander Ollien gave her the rough coordinates of a Republic assault squad and some caverns beneath the command center. The assignment comforted Quinn a little bit. Baras wouldn't risk their command center on Quesh just to kill Fallon, and an assault squad wouldn't be enough to do it.

They had more time.

More comforting, as they entered the caverns, was the actual presence of the Republic assault squad, meaning the threat wasn't fabricated. Fallon cut them down with ease and for Quinn it was enough to just see her relax, letting the tension ease from her long limbs.

Then her comm buzzed.

When she answered it and the small holo of Lord Draahg appeared in her palm, Quinn’s stomach twisted.

Draahg was still all smiles, but rather than the sycophantic tone he’d taken with her in Vengean’s Sanctum, his every word dripped with sarcasm. “Well well well. Well done. Mission accomplished, eh?”

“Draahg.” Her eyes narrowed and Quinn could hear the hint of a snarl.

Draahg’s smile widened. "Captain Trey-yen was sent here by one of Baras’s Republic moles. The explosives were never wired to his detonator.” He produced a thin cylinder. “I have the real detonator. An elaborate trap for you.”

Quinn froze. Half of him was amazed at Baras’s tactical expertise, using an Imperial Command post as bait for Fallon, knowing she’d answer the call. A part of him was furious that the Imperial Base would be caught in the blast.

But would the price of killing her really have ever been anything less?

"Quinn," she barked. "Run."

He couldn't. Instead he just stared at her, trying to commit every black lock of hair to memory, every skin cell. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want her to die.

Draahg depressed the detonator and the world shook. Invisible wires coiled around Quinn and Fallon hurled him towards the cave mouth where it would be at least safer. His head cracked against the wall of the cavern, and everything went black.

Quinn woke up against a wall, the back of his head cracked and the blood and dirt already dried in his hair. But he did wake up. The cave mouth had been more stable, held up by durasteel pillars put in by the miners. Woozy, Quinn set one hand on the wall and used it to stand. He took a few breaths, waiting for the dizziness to pass, and moved back into the cave. Fallon was half-buried, but alive. She had managed to deflect the worst of the damage with the Force—likely she could have escaped entirely if she hadn't spent precious seconds moving him to safety.

Baras wanted her dead. It would have been easy to finish her then and there while she was unconscious. It might be his only chance, honestly. He wasn't foolish enough to think he stood a chance against her in a fight. He had his blaster. He had never been squeamish about using it, regardless of whether the target was unarmed.

But he couldn’t do it. He wouldn't murder her while she was helpless. She deserved better. And he was going to hold on to the hope that someone else would be tasked with her end. Killing her would be a triumph, surely… surely Draahg would want that honor for himself.

Kneeling beside her, Quinn started to clear the rubble and survey her injuries. He wished he had transferred but even if he’d had the strength, Baras would never have let him. This had been a possibility from the moment he left Balmorra and he had no one to blame but himself for the emotional difficulties.

Fallon's red skin was badly bruised, but he couldn't tell if anything was broken. He administered a medpac and exhaled as her face contorted with pain and then her eyes opened. She pushed herself upright and wiped the blood off her mouth. “The command post,” she said, shrugging off her ruined jacket. “Can you walk?”

"Yes, my lord.”

"Good."

They returned to the Command Center and Quinn was relieved to see it intact. Relieved and trying very hard not to be surprised because surely Baras would not have sacrificed the Empire’s operation on Quesh just to kill one woman.

Whomever that woman was.

But the doubt was there, and that boded poorly.

Fallon walked like a woman possessed. Limping and furious as she bypassed Commander Ollien entirely and headed into a building on one side of the small compound. Quinn stayed close, curious, and hung back by the door when Fallon was met by two red sith, one hooded and one not.

She narrowed her eyes at the one with his head bare and he acknowledged her by lifting his chin slightly. “We are impressed. You are worthy to be the Emperor’s Wrath.”

The Wrath? The Emperor's Wrath was his chief enforcer.

“My patience has been run incredibly thin,” Fallon snapped. “I suggest an explanation.”

“We are your ally, friend,” the hood-less sith responded, his hands folded at his navel. “I am Servant One; this is Servant Two. We are the Emperor’s Hand. The Dark Council runs blind. We alone oversee the Emperor’s Will in the Galaxy.”

The Emperor?

Or at least people claiming to work for him. They might be lying.

Quinn… needed them to be lying.

Fallon took a deep breath—the action clearly painful—and then exhaled and inclined her head respectfully. “You honor me.”

“We sampled the Wrath some time ago,” the hooded servant—Servant Two—said.

“The Emperor tasks The Hand with a great undertaking, and you are to become his Wrath. Darth Baras seizes power against the Emperor’s wishes, he must be stopped.”

They might have been lying. Or working for someone who was lying.

Quinn bit down hard on the inside of his cheek and used the pain and the little bit of blood to ground himself. Ultimately, it didn't matter. He was loyal to Baras—to the Empire—above the Emperor himself and it was hard to work out any immediate priorities beyond making sure Fallon was going to be alright for the short period of time they had.

Fallon nodded. “Seeing as he very nearly blew up myself and Captain Quinn, consider me in agreement.”

“The betrayer has motivated the Wrath,” Servant Two observed. His eyes moved to Quinn for a moment and Quinn felt his blood run cold.

But Servant Two's interest in him seemed to only last a moment.

Servant One nodded at this and brought his hands up. “Since the Treaty of Coruscant, the Emperor has withdrawn from the known Galaxy, preparing for a great calling. Darth Baras learned of this and now claims the Emperor speaks through him. If the Dark Council declares him Voice of the Emperor, he will have supreme power over the Empire.”

“Where is the True Voice?” Fallon asked, apparently familiar with the title.

“The True Voice has been silenced,” Servant Two lamented.

“And in its absence, there is nothing to deny Baras’s claim. Some of them truly believe; others see an  advantage in supporting him; and Baras plots against those who oppose him.”

“I’ll say this,” Fallon shook her head and set her hands on her hips, wincing and frustrated, “Baras certainly sets his sights on the top. I'd like to just corner him and be done with it, but the bastard is too crafty for that.” Her strong jaw tightened with irritation and then her chin lifted a little. "We must support and bolster his enemies, Force knows he has them. Run him to ground and then I'll finally get to deal with him."

“Eventually,” Servant One said. "You will have your chance."

“The Wrath must build before reaching pitch.” Servant Two’s eyes moved to Quinn, through Quinn, and he felt his stomach twist. But the hooded sith’s gaze returned, just as piercing, to Fallon.

“Your crew awaits you at your ship,” Servant One gestured to the door. “They have been informed of these developments. Baras means to force the Council to bow, but he believes you dead. That is our advantage.”

Fallon nodded and left, Quinn on her heels.

She was bruised and battered but no less proud as they waited for the elevator that would take them up to the shuttle. Breathing was uncomfortable, but Quinn managed to hold himself straight even while his mind raced with concerns. They were now actively opposing Darth Baras. It would have been easier, perhaps on all of them, if he'd just shot her while she was helpless. There wasn't an easy way out of this. All he was doing was delaying the inevitable moment where he had to kill her.

Or try to, at least. He had a grim sliver of comfort in the knowledge that he might not be able to, physically, and that when she killed him it would all be over.

"Captain," Fallon said quietly. "I'd given you an order."

"Yes, my lord."

"You've never disregarded my instructions before." She turned to look at him and Quinn forced himself to bear the scrutiny. He wasn't afraid and every other time (once) in his career he'd disobeyed an order he'd done so proudly.

This was different.

He hadn't disobeyed for the greater good because it was a stupid order.

He just… hadn't been able to leave her.

"Do you intend to make it a habit?" Her yellow eyes were questioning, solving him like a problem.

"No, my lord."

"So why your departure here?"

He could feel his expression gentle even as he fought against it. "You could have died, my lord."

"Your presence wouldn't have prevented that, the ceiling was coming down."

Quinn nodded. "Yes, my lord. I'm aware."

I believe you know how I feel about you, my lord.

He was compromised. Wholly and entirely rent in two. He owed Baras everything and he wanted to give that everything to her.

Fallon exhaled, her hand shifted, fingers lightly touching his for a moment. Only a moment, but it stretched. Despite every screaming red warning, Quinn flexed his fingers against hers.

She was Sith, and he knew how much his hot and cold must irritate her. She was a creature of passion and fire and he knew how painfully tepid he had been with her. A tepidity he would need to resume. And he knew she could feel how badly he wanted to break free of it. She could feel the longing as it rolled off of him in desperate waves.

He had to keep that wall up, now more than ever.

She let him remain professional, safe in his shell, until they were on the shuttle and out of sight. She remained standing for a moment after he'd sat. Gingerly, both of their bruises still fresh, she tilted his chin up and pressed a small kiss against his mouth while his hands settled on the swell of her hips. Unable to help himself, he kissed her back, the contact tingling through his skin.

"This all has to be extremely unpleasant for you," she said as she pulled away, crimson thumb petting down his cheek. Her brilliant yellow eyes were worried and he wanted nothing so much as to ease that.

He felt like he was going to vomit. He wanted, so badly, to confess everything.

"My place is with you."

But he couldn't.

He owed Baras everything.

"We'll weather this together, Malavai."

Two years with this fiery goddess who consumed everything about him didn't blot out a ten year debt.

But he wished it did.

Aboard their ship, Fallon was immediately fawned over.

"Mother!" Jaesa was at the airlock as it opened, her burned orange eyes dark and worried.

It the first time Quinn had actually heard her use the endearment.

"Fallon?" Vette was close behind.

"I'm alright," Fallon said. "Bruised." She pet her hand down Jaesa's dark hair. "Can you bring me a kolto shot, Wontyuk?"

"Of course."

Fallon headed to the couch and sat down. She arched her neck back and exhaled through her nose. "He didn't move on the rest of you, did he?"

"Nah," Pierce said from where he was leaning against the wall. "Probably thought taking you out would be enough." He folded his arms over his chest. "He thought wrong."

"Baras has a tendency to do that," Fallon said. "Thank you, Gaius."

“Are you alright?” Vette asked, hovering over the back of the couch. “You look rough.”

“We were caught in an explosion, Woyonuks." Fallon reached her hand up and touched Vette's cheek. "But Baras thinks we’re dead, that gives us at least a brief advantage.” She frowned. “It won’t last.”

“Pah,” Pierce tossed one hand. “Never cared for Old Man Baras anyway.” He said it while glaring at Quinn.

“Still," Vette said, her lekku tensing. “I don't know. Those Hand weirdos sorta creep me out.”

"Many things 'creep you out', Vette," Jaesa said as she re-entered the room. "We move nearer to ultimate power and my ability to wash my feet in Baras's open chest cavity."

Fallon chuckled a little, taking the kolto shot and kissing her daughter on the cheek.

"You move closer to ultimate power," Vette said. "I just don't want people getting ideas about slave collars."

"I will make a collection out of the hands of people who try," Jaesa said. It was probably meant to be comforting and Vette rolled her eyes.

"Fallon."

"Easy, my darlings," Fallon said. Her eyes met Quinn’s, and her mouth hardened to a line. Her eyes, though, were worried and pale, not their usual vibrant gold.

“Well, I'll update my scorecard.” Vette leaned in and gave Fallon a gentle headbutt. “I’m glad you didn’t blow up.”

“Thank you, Vette.” Fallon took her eyes off Quinn to turn her head and smile at Vette. “I hope your adjustments to the engines are paying off.”

“You bet they are.” Vette grinned. “I’m great at this.”

“Excellent. Jaesa? Would you make tea before we withdraw to the training room?”

"Yes, master," Jaesa said, inclining her head and heading back towards the galley.

Vette's thin blue hand settled on Fallon's shoulder. “Is that a—”

Fallon silenced Vette with a glance and a delicate lift of her brow. “Even like this, I am more than a match for most. Jaesa’s training is important, it will continue uninterrupted.”

"I get it," Vette said. "Just go easy? For my sake? I don't know what I'll do if you keel over."

Fallon chuckled. "You're never going to find out."

Quinn took the opportunity to return to the helm. He sat and began making the flight checks needed to disengage from the orbital when he intercepted a message.

Broysc.

He exhaled through his nose as the Moff began to rant, calling him Admiral Malcontent and demanding that he return to Balmorra at once as he was in direct opposition to Broysc’s orders.

Quinn stared at the holo as it went dark.

That was what Darth Baras had saved him from. Ten years at a nothing post with no hope of advancement. Darth Baras had kept him from wasting into nothing.

That was the debt he had to repay.

Chapter Text

Filtered in through the nonsense from Broysc came a little bit of good news. Quinn couldn’t help the fluttering pride in his chest when he opened his messages and saw that he had passed the trials for Captain, second grade. After ten years stuck as a lieutenant with every avenue of relocation or promotion blocked, seeing in writing that he was moving up the ranks was a feeling he’d forgotten how to prepare for.

And he had only spent two years as a first grade Captain.

There was one small hurdle: it required the approval of his CO to go into effect and that should have been Baras. But it wasn’t and he still hadn’t commed Baras to say that he, and more importantly Fallon, had survived.

He would.

He was just… bidding his time.

So he waited for Fallon to visit him in the cockpit, as she often did. He rose out of the chair when he heard her familiar footfalls behind him and turned to greet her. “My lord,” he said, trying to keep the pride in his voice down to a professional level. “I’ve just been informed that I have passed the trials for Captain, second grade.”

“Congratulations, Captain.” Fallon’s eyes warmed and her mouth twitched with a smile. “It’s well deserved.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t seek acknowledgement; it requires your approval to go through.”

She nodded. “Consider it done. I’ll have it sent to Dromund Kaas within the hour.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He inclined his head and turned to settle back in his seat.

Once he was settled, Fallon's hand settled on his shoulder. She leaned over the seat and pressed a kiss to his temple.

"Well done, Malavai."

She pulled away and left the cockpit, leaving him warm and hollow all at once.

Belsavis was a secret Republic prison world. Quinn was a little impressed, having generally thought the Republic lacked the stomach for such a thing. Of course, the prisoners could have been put a productive use, but it was least something.

They docked with Belsavis’s orbital station and Quinn headed out to lounge where Fallon had gathered them around the holoterminal. She gave Pierce a nod when the holoterminal beeped and Servants One and Two flickered into place.

“Wrath,” Servant One said. “Belsavis has been the Republic’s best kept secret, hidden even from the Hand.”

“The disappeared, reappear,” Servant Two chimed in, possibly helpfully, possibly not. Quinn wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.

“The planet has been a prison for the galaxy’s most dangerous criminals and many presumed-dead Sith Agents,” Servant One offered as clarification.

“It houses the blood of the betrayer.” Servant Two said.

Fallon nodded as though this made sense (it didn’t) and then patiently waits for Servant One to elaborate. She held her hands behind her back, attentive but not submissive.

She was never submissive.

“When the prison manifests were leaked, Darth Baras discovered that his sister, Darth Ekkage, was alive and imprisoned there.”

“The blood of the betrayer.” Servant Two repeated more earnestly.

Fallon nodded, apparently familiar with the name.

“Darth Ekkage was a member of the Dark Council and leader of the Sith infiltrators. If she is reunited with Baras, many more will bow to him.”

“Well, we can't have that,” Fallon said with a small shrug. “Jaesa, I want your company for this.”

"My pleasure, master."

Quinn kept his expression clear, but this development changed things. He needed to tell Darth Baras and he would only have the opportunity while Fallon was off the ship with Jaesa. They would see through him otherwise.

Fallon would sense his discomfort and she was by far the more gentle option. Jaesa delighted in ripping things apart and he doubted she would make an exception for his psyche.

He saluted as the Sith departed and then returned to the cockpit. The hours passed, Quinn counting them down to find the point where disappearing to the refresher wouldn't be suspicious but Fallon wouldn't be back yet. When he thought he could get away with it, Quinn moved to the Refresher, closing the door behind him and producing his personal holocom. He exhaled and straightened, the picture of professionalism, when Baras flickered into view.

“My lord,” Quinn gave a stiff bow, "I’m reporting in with an update.”

“Ah, Captain.” Baras’s tone was pleased but in being so gave away nothing about his actual mood. “I’m pleased you survived.”

“Yes, my lord.” Quinn inclined his head and tried to ignore the way his stomach threatened to give out. “I’m calling to report that Lord Fallon Noicrothatch has also survived.”

Baras was silent for a moment.

“We are currently in Orbit around Belsavis. Lord Fallon and Jaesa Noicrothatch have gone down to the surface.”

“Do you know what they intend to do there?”

To his horror, Quinn considered lying. He couldn’t, of course, Baras would know and more importantly he was loyal to Baras. Baras saved his career from becoming nothing and he was nothing if he was not his career.

But he thought about it, and he thought about it for her. “I believe that are looking for Darth Ekkage, my lord,” he replied.

“Tell me, Captain, does Lord Noicrothatch suspect your loyalties?”

“I do not believe so, my lord.” Somehow Quinn managed not to wince. “She has made overtures of trust that appear genuine.”

He could taste her skin, her knuckle against his mouth. He could feel her fingers on his shoulders.

“Good. Very good. You will remain in position, the knife in her back if I need it.”

When he needed it.

Quinn fell silent and Darth Baras laughed.

“Having second thoughts, Captain?” The question was a trap. Quinn had seen Baras kill from a distance. One false step, one false start, and Fallon would find his body on the floor of the refresher, his treachery revealed.

He wanted to live.

He needed time. Time with her and time to see if there was any way out of the pit he'd dug himself.

“No, my lord," Quinn said. “It will be done.”

“Wait for my word, Captain.” Baras said. “And you will be rewarded when Lord Noicrothatch lies dead.”

The holocom went silent and Quinn ground his teeth together. He stripped off and stepped into the refresher itself, turning the heat all the way up, as though the steam could blast away his discomfort and his crimes. He rubbed his pale skin raw, leaving himself pink and shiny and sore and not feeling any better for it. Quinn rested his forehead against the wall as he twisted the knob to stop the steam and let the cold set in, water condensing on the plastiglass and in his hair to drip down his nose. He was 40. It was unseemly to be so affected. Nothing should come between him and his duty to the Empire.

He was in love. And that didn't matter.

He thought sometimes that maybe she loved him. And that didn't matter.

He had so many doubts about Darth Baras's decisions. And those didn't matter.

Duty mattered. His role as a cog in the machine driving the Empire to glory.

There wasn't a choice. This had always been a possibility and it was something he told himself he'd been prepared for since Baras assigned him to The Black Sky on Balmorra.

Quinn emerged from the refresher to find Pierce in the lounge, waiting for him. Briefly he wondered if he'd been overheard but figured that Pierce likely would have just shot him if that had been the case. Stars knew the brute would have jumped at the excuse.

"Fallon called," Pierce said, using her first name in a way that made Quinn's jaw clench. "She wants us down on the surface freeing Imperial prisoners."

Quinn nodded.

"She'd have told you herself, but your comm was tied up," Pierce said. "Personal calls?"

Quinn chose not to rise to the Lieutenant's jibe. He lifted his chin. "Fall in, Lieutentant. You may brief me on the way to the planet's surface."

They were briefed at the shuttle by a nemoid who saluted, looking at the space between Quinn and Pierce like he was nervous about making eye contact.

< < Captain. I am attache to Commander Calum of the Imperial Guard. Lord Noicrothatch instructed me to send you and your Lieutenant to the Commander immediately. He is waiting for you in the strategy room. > >

"Good," Quinn said curtly.

The nemoid saluted and Quinn marched to the strategy room, Pierce behind him. He folded his hands behind him, stiff-backed and ready to both serve and provide the best impression of Fallon's operation.

Commander Calum was a sith in all red— one of the Emperor's personal guard. "Approach," he said. "Your master has garnered the attention of mine, The Emperor. She has expressed your competence, do not disappoint me."

"Of course, my lord," Quinn said.

"This planet holds the Republic's diriest secret: a maximum security prison, home to the galaxy's most depraved convicts." Commander Calum paced a little, and Quinn stood perfectly still. "We've come to free them. Specifically the Dread Masters—elder sith who could change the course of the war."

"Where would we find them, my lord?"

"In time, Captain," Commander Calum said dismissively. "We've deployed a heavy Imperial presence, led by five special operations groups. They've freed prisoners and sparked riots. But during the chaos, we lost contact with all five teams. You will need to restablish contact, and if necessary, relaunch the operation to free the Dread Masters."

"We'll see it done, my lord."

"Dismissed."

At the shuttle, Quinn turned to look up at Pierce. "Can you handle the inflitration on your own, Lieutenant?"

Pierce nodded. "Without breaking a sweat."

Quinn nodded. "We'll get an armor cam and the materials to link me to the squads as you find them before launching an offensive on where they are holding the Dread Masters."

"Vette could probably help dig through the files to find the prison," Pierce said.

Quinn nodded. "I'll contact her once you're in the field."

On the planet's surface Quinn and Pierce met with Lord Medechas. To Quinn's surprise, Lord Medechas inclined his head. "Lord Noicrothatch has instructed that you be given anything you require in securing the Dread Masters." He gestured to a small command room. "The Emperor expects results."

"He'll have them," Quinn said. He stepped into the small command center. "I may require the assistance of a member of my crew," he said. "She is a rutian twi'lek by the name of Vette, please instruct your men that she is to be unaccosted." He looked up at Pierce. "Let's begin."

Pierce didn't salute, but he did nod before turning on his toe to head to the armory.

Quinn connected the systems to Pierce's armor cam, giving him a view of the battlefield. Then he produced his holocomm and contacted Vette.

"Need something?" Vette asked.

"I need you to start slicing through the Republic's records," Quinn said. "You're looking for any references to 'The Deep Prison' or 'The Dread Masters'."

Vette nodded. "Might be easier from down there."

"I know. I've given instructions that you are to be unharrased on your way to my office."

"Aw, you do care."

Quinn's nostrils flared a little with irritation but Vette ignored it.

"Military grade caf sucks," she said. "I'll bring a bag of the good stuff."

"Just get down here," Quinn said, trying not to sound touched.

He got tapped into Pierce's camera and comm and nodded to Vette as she joined him.

The first order of business was releasing several prisoners from carbonite to act as leaders within the prison break the Empire was orchestrating.

Better to let them get shot at if possible, rather than the Imperial troops.

"He's enjoying himself," Vette noted, looking from Quinn to Pierce's armorcam feed.

Quinn took a sip of his caf, privately pleased that she had brought the grounds from the ship; they were superior. "Much as it pains me: for all that he's a brute, the Lieutenant is a very effective weapon."

"Like throwing an ion grenade into a droid factory," Vette agreed.

Quinn's mouth twitched despite himself. "Only more irritatingly insubordinate."

"Problem," Pierce's voice broke over the comm. "They cut the gallery off from the grid. I've got enough power to thaw one block."

"What are our options, lieutenant?" Quinn asked.

"Got murderers on one hand and agitators on the other," Pierce answered. "Murderers could do a lot of damage."

"Undirected damage," Quinn said. "They could cause as many problems for our forces as for the Republic. Thaw the agitators." He waited for Pierce to argue, but no argument came. He watched through the cam as Pierce thawed the appropriate grouping and tried not to be surprised that the lieutenant was doing as he was told.

The holoterminal attatched to the control panel fired up as Pierce finished entering the command and Quinn watched through the cam as a man in a Republic uniform appeared over the holo.

"I hope you're proud," said the man on the other end. "Your time on Belsavis is up."

"Don't take orders from you," Pierce said. Quinn couldn't be certain of course, but he doubted Pierce even looked up as he said it.

Back in the command room, Vette bumped Quinn a little before going back to her work. "He takes orders?" she asked under her breath.

"He tends to take Lord Noicrothatch's," Quinn said, attention fixed on Pierce's conversation.

"Yeah, but they're besties," Vette commented.

Quinn scowled at the reminder.

"Listen close," said the Republic commander to Pierce. "I've been serving reality to slime like you for near twenty years. So let me make this perfectly clear. You've made a mistake. Time to pack up and fly home."

Pierce killed the channel. "Mission success," he reported to Quinn. "Where to next?"

"Locate the nearest Imperial outpost lieutenant," Quinn instructed. "Wait for my orders."

There was no 'aye', no 'sir', but Pierce did move.

"Alright," Vette said, pulling Quinn's attention off of watching Pierce's feed move through Belsavis's jungle. "The guy who showed up to threaten Pierce was Marshal Ruger. He's in charge, more or less. In charge enough."

"Can you locate his base of operations?" Quinn asked.

"Already done," Vette said. "His base is protected by a force field. Luckily, the guy who has the key is outside the walls. His name is Gholan."

"I'm sensing an 'unluckily', Vette," Quinn said flatly.

"He's an insane Devaronian with Force powers who thinks he's immortal," she said, shrugging.

Quinn frowned. Force sensitivy complicated matters. Pierce was insubordinate and Quinn disliked him on both a personal and professional level, but he was useful and Fallon adored him for no adequately explained reason. Sending him alone against a Force user if there was a way to even the playing field would have been irresponsible and have irked Fallon. Ideally, Quinn would message her lordship and see if he could borrow Jaesa, but it would be improper and he had no way of knowing what Fallon's status was at that exact moment. He didn't want to distract or interrupt sa crucial part of her operation.

"Hey?"

He turned to see what Vette wanted and found that she had turned on her comm and contacted Fallon. "Can we borrow Jaesa for a minute?"

Mortification washed through Quinn like a tide of salt water.

"What for?" Fallon asked.

"There's a Force Sensitive Devaronian who might give Pierce trouble on his own."

Fallon nodded. "Send the coordinates, Woyonuks. Jaesa will meet Pierce there and then return to me."

"Are you alright?" Vette asked, her head tilting slightly and her lekku shifting a little. "You seem frustrated."

Fallon gave a huff of exasperated laughter. "I have encountered an extremely aggravating Jedi, Woyonuks. It'll be fine."

"Isn't that most Jedi?" Vette asked.

"Yes, darling. But usually they're not behind a wall where I can't get them."

"Bummer. How's Jaesa handling that?"

"Threats mostly," Fallon replied. "I think if I don't let her land the killing blow when we do deal with him she may spend the rest of the week pouting about it." The adoration and fondness spilled through her tone and Vette laughed.

"Can't have that. I'll call if we have another critical update."

"Thank you, Woyonuks. Do be safe."

Vette offered a salute and earned a pleased little laugh before shutting her comm off. She turned and lifted an eyebrow at Quinn. "What? You weren't going to call."

Quinn's expression narrowed with a scowl that Vette met by dispassionately lifting her eyebrows.

"I like Pierce maybe a little more than you do," she pointed out. "But if we let him get murdered Fallon will be extremely annoyed with probably you."

Quinn puffed air out of his nose because he was too dignified to actually snort and too proud to admit that Vette was correct and went back to monitoring Pierce's feed.

There was a brief lull while Jaesa and Pierce travelled to meet up and then locate Gholan. Quinn's comm buzzed and when he answered it, he felt himself relax a little as Fallon smiled at him from the palm of his hand.

"My lord," he said.

"How are things progressing, Quinn?" she asked.

"Well, my lord," Quinn responded. "I've sent the location of Ruger's base to Pierce and arranged for a unit to meet him there to ensure Ruger doesn't flee. Once he and Lord Noicrothatch have dispatched Gholan, the plan to reestablish contact with the other Imperial squads will continue."

"Very good," she said. "Keep me informed."

"Yes, my lord."

After Pierce and Jaesa defeated Ruger (handedly, Quinn would add when describing it to Fallon later), operations proceeeded smoothly. The squads had all run into some manner of trouble, most of which involved a previously unknown alien species dubbed 'the Esh-Ka' which had a propencity for Force sensitivity and were ruthlessly efficient when targeting either the Republic prisoners or the Imperial soldiers.

Where they'd come from was broadly immaterial; they were being a nusiance and Quinn pushed the fact that he had been allocated whatever resources he needed in order to put a different squad on containing that particular problem so the teams Pierce was recovering could focus on their actual task of locating The Dread Masters.

While Vette located The Dread Masters' prison, Quinn had Pierce lead a squad to reclaim the landing zone for Commander Calum's men and was reminded that there was nothing in the galaxy quite like watching his orders lead to greater victories.

Moreso because those victories benefited both the Empire and her lordship.

Once they were released, he would ensure that The Dread Masters knew it was on behalf of Lord Noicrothatch. That Commander Calum knew it had been on her behalf. And when the Empire won the war, with the help of the recently freed Sith, it would be one more little thing on the scales in Fallon's favor. A little way to ensure her legacy even after Baras forced him to finally move her into whatever trap he'd set.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

But he would keep adding to those scales for as long as he was able.

Quinn and Vette continued to direct Pierce through the steps needed to locate the Dread Masters and as a final staging ground was decided on, Quinn turned to Vette. "Return to the ship," he instructed.

Vette raised a defiant eyebrow and Quinn deflated slightly. Ordering Vette never worked. It had been three years, their working relationship had been defined from the beginning as Vette being a contractor who 'sometimes took suggestions' from people other than Fallon, but Quinn had somehow never lost the optimism that this time would be the time where Vette would just do as she was told.

"Vette," he said, knowing he was going to have to explain what should have been self-evident. "Do you want to be anywhere near The Dread Masters?" he asked lifting a eyebrow.

Vette frowned and her shoulders flattened. "Not really."

"Then return to the ship."

For a moment it looked like she was going to argue purely on principle and Quinn let himself explore the possibility of whether it would be better in Fallon's eyes to let Vette interact with The Dread Masters or to knock Vette unconcious and delivered back to the ship to avoid that.

He might get away with the latter if he could do so without physically striking Vette. Maybe.

Fortunately, probably for both of them, Vette saved him to trouble. She sighed and turned, throwing a parting salute over her shoulder as she left the room to meet the shuttle. "Bring the caf back up with you, Admiral," she said.

Quinn rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled his irritation. Fallon would be furious if anything happened to Vette and there was a non-zero chance that a group of Sith Lords called The Dread Masters would fall under the umbrella of 'something happening to Vette'.

He checked the coordinates for the staging area Pierce was heading to and put one of Lord Medechas's men on the console to monitor communications in case they needed further backup or support. Then he left the command center and headed for the deep prison to rendezvous with Pierce and the Imperials sent for the ultimate rescue of the Dread Masters.

"Down on the ground with the real soldiers?" Pierce asked, disrespect dripping through his tone as Quinn arrived at the staging ground.

Quinn looked at the other soldiers and recognized the problem. He couldn't handle Pierce the way he would any of the others, but he also couldn't tolerate Pierce's disrespect or he would risk losing control of the operation.

He folded his hands behind his back, barely acknowledging his subordinate. "Lieutenant," he said. "I will remind you that the only reason I have not shot you dead is that Lord Noicrothatch values having someone she can send directly into the krayt dragon's mouth. The minute this is no longer the case, I will have you reassigned to somewhere unpleasant. Possibly hell."

Pierce laughed.

"Who's this?" One of the less intelligent grunts asked, clearly inspired by Pierce's disrespect. "Didn't know the Brass was sending someone to triple stamp the report."

To Quinn's surprise, Pierce shot the man a withering glare. "Captain Quinn is your commanding officer, Corporal, and probably a better shot."

The corporal wilted.

"You gotta earn the right to sass your superiors," said the Lieutenant. "Don't know how you made it out of bootcamp without knowing that one, probably had to enjoy the taste of bootleather or your drill sergeant's cock."

"Sorry, sir."

Quinn wasn't sure how to feel about Pierce defending his command, but he wasn't going to focus on it because there was work to do.

Operations Group Two had been slaughtered, their wounds consistent with what they'd seen from the Esh-ka. Resistance was going to be more than Quinn wanted, but likely not more than he had anticipated.

The group they were leading made their way into the Vault where the Dread Masters were meant to be kept. The Esh-ka were a plague in the area, but Pierce had acquired an assault cannon and proved very efficient and clearing the way in front of the group. It thinned the alien numbers and limited their ability to rush the squad as even the Force sensitive fighters were reticent to charge up the sloping down ramps into the spray of bolts.

Still the Imperials took losses, though Quinn wouldn't call them heavy. Of the twenty members of the squad, they lost seven on the way to the room where Vette's information had indicated that the Dread Masters were being held in stasis. That was less than half and Quinn found that acceptable when weighed against the magnitude that freeing the Sith represented.

Irritatingly, the room that should have held the Dread Masters containment cells was empty. Quinn stepped over Esh-Ka and Republic corpses to check a console, bringing up a recording of the Esh-Ka moving the Masters.

< < Place the dark ones in the Cave-Under-Tree's embrace,> > said the Esh-Ka who seemed to be in charge over the recording. < >

"Better hoof it," Pierce grunted.

Quinn nodded and chose not to rise to what he hoped was an unintentional pun about the Esh-Ka's appearance. "Agreed. Have the men address their injuries and be prepared to move out in ten minutes."

"Any thoughts on this 'Cave-Under-Tree'?" Pierce asked, turning to start bellowing orders.

"A few," Quinn said. "I'll double check them while we move."

Pierce nodded and shouted for their surviving troopers to move out and as he did, Quinn pulled out his comm to contact the ship. "Vette."

"Yeah?" she asked, the blue lines of the holo wavering in his hand.

"Are you still able to access Belsavis's files?"

She nodded.

"Search these keywords: Esh-ka, Cave-Under-Tree."

He watched as she started to type, her face pinched with concentration. He held the comm in his outstretched hand, watching her through his periphery as he started after the troops.

"Got it!" She looked up and grinned with self-satisfaction. "It's an Esh-Ka sacred site, sending you the coordinates."

"Thank you," Quinn said. "Good work." He closed his comm and jogged a little to catch up with Pierce and their squad. "This way, Lieutenant."

In the Cave-Under-Tree—a Rakata ruin located under an appropriately large tree—Quinn and Pierce found carved tunnels that lead to natural tunnels and then to a functioning command center.

The Esh-ka had moved the containment pods holding The Dread Masters into the center and arranged them to connect to an ultimate power-source, intending to use the pods—or perhaps the Masters themselves—to power… something.

It didn't matter what and Quinn had put other people on thwarting it regardless.

Quinn aimed his blaster. "Lieutenant," he said.

"Got it."

The bolts ripped from Pierce's cannon into the aliens as the rest of the troopers surged forward. Quinn popped one alien in the head and slipped through the combat to find the controls on the Dread Master's stasis pods. Freeing them was the job and would make things go much more quickly.

"Keep them off me, Lieutentant," Quinn instructed as he worked to disconnect and open the stasis pods. "I've almost—" There.

The room filled with an invisble miasma of choking fear as the stasis field was released. It sank through Quinn's very skin like a cold sweat and he turned away from the console like a panicked animal and then recoiled automatically. He took a step back and immediately felt caged in by the machine at his back as the five sith lords landed on their feet outside their pods.

"Pierce," he barked. "Here."

Pierce moved to Quinn's side and the two men stepped closer to one another in an almost instinctive display of solidarity and mutual protection as the Dread Masters vented their fury on the remaining Esh-Ka, speaking one after the other in a monotonus and grating tone that threatened to shred Quinn's frontal lobe. One picking up before the other's sentence had finished.

They turned when all the aliens were dead and Quinn swallowed. He lowered his head in submission. "My lords," he said, forcing the waver from his voice. "We were sent to find and liberate you in the name of the Emperor."

"Terrified," said one.

Quinn clenched his jaw.

"Deferential," said another.

Quinn forced himself to breathe.

"Who sent you?" said the third.

"Lord Fallon Noicrothatch," Quinn answered, holding himself stiff and straight and forcing himself to bear the terrible gazes biting through him from behind the Dread Masters' masks. "On behalf of Commander Calum of the Imperial Guard."

"We will remember this," said the fourth.

"And her."

"And you."

The Masters left and Quinn exhaled. His posture slackened and his left arm fell back to brace against the computer as his weight rested against it.

"I need a drink," Pierce said, his tone just a hair softer than usual.

Malavai nodded his agreement. "I'll manage the report and have someone assigned to collect the bodies and anything useful off of the system. Report to the ship when you're done."

"Aye," Pierce said. "Job well done."

Quinn nodded again, still staring after the Dread Masters, having felt their words in his brain like claws of ice. "Indeed."

Upon returning the ship Quinn pulled rank—and Pierce didn't argue—for first turn in the refresher like the steam could lift the feeling of being watched that had clung to him like a heavy perfume after dealing with the Dread Masters. It worked, mostly. Though as he dried his face and met his reflection in the mirror Quinn worried it would take another few days for him to stop feeling like there was something just outside of his periphery.

He returned to his post to check the communications array and got the notifcation that the airlock was opening. He moved from the cockpit to the lounge in time for Fallon and Jaesa to enter it. Warmth washed through him, easing the grip the paranoia had on his senses and Malavai didn't know if it was something Fallon had done on purpose or if was just the result of seeing her safe and… home.

It didn't really matter.

He smiled a little and then felt a different terror and despair wash through him.

She would die by Baras’s command.

Quinn's warm feeling dried up and he wanted to vomit.

He took cold comfort in Fallon’s blissful ignorance with regard to his inner turmoil when she had him contact the Hand. She folded her hands behind her back, waiting until Servants One and Two flickered into being.

“The Wrath ascends,” Servant Two said, sounding almost giddy.

Fallon let her posture relax. Her weight moved more to one hip, her chin was lifted with pride.

That hint of swagger that Quinn found so intoxicating.

"Ekkage has been dealt with," she said.

“Yes,” Servant One said with a nod. “With Baras’s sister silenced, our enemy grows angry. But he has other endeavors that must fail. The key Dark Council member who opposes Baras’s attempt to be named The Voice is Darth Vowrawn.”

Quinn checked the name in his head. Vowrawn was one of the older Council members. Possibly the oldest member of the Council. He was powerful and in charge of the Sphere of Production and Logistics. He spared a glance at Fallon and saw her nod, familiar with the name.

“Vowrawn is spearheading the battle for Corellia and Baras secretly undermines his efforts. He hopes to orchestrate Vowrawn’s failure or death.”

Quinn tensed and heard a snarl from Pierce on his right. Fallon’s voice was low and dark when she spoke. “He’s willing to risk losing Corellia?”

“His personal goals override the war,” Servant One confirmed.

“I’ll kill him myself,” Pierce muttered.

Fallon chuckled a little. “That would be interesting. However unlikely.”

“A man can dream, my lord.”

“And your ambition is a credit to you, Lieutenant.”

“The Pendulum swings with Vowrawn’s weight,” Servant Two’s eyes moved to Quinn, but no one seemed to notice or comment.

It filled him with dread.

He was loyal to Baras. He had to be loyal to Baras. The Emperor had been silent for a decade, Baras acted in the best interests of the Empire. He was present.

But was Baras really willing to sacrifice the war effort for power? Quinn couldn't believe it. Baras had a long term plan. Unite the Empire and then crush the Republic.

He tried to catch up with the conversation, having spent too long in his own thoughts, and caught Griest, Armageddon Battalion and Hoth.

The General was well respected and the battalion feared, Quinn couldn’t be certain why they were on Hoth of all places. He should have been listening.

“I will convince Griest to move the Battalion to Corellia where they’re actually fucking useful.” The swear dropped out of Fallon's mouth with venom and hate.

Pierce rolled his shoulders so he was standing even straighter and met Fallon’s eyes with ease. “I served with General Griest for a time, my lord. As tough as they come and stubborn.”

“I doubt, Lieutenant, that he is tougher or more stubborn than I am,” Fallon replied, the hint of a smile on her mouth.

“I've never met someone who is, my lord."

Fallon chuckled darkly.

Quinn clenched his jaw.

“Resistance cannot be accepted,” Servant One said. “Armageddon Battalion must be reassigned. Do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

The holocall ended. For a long moment the room was quiet, everyone absorbing the information in their own ways. Vette broke the silence with a sigh. She rolled her eyes at Fallon. “Great, back to the deep freeze.”

"Back to the deep freeze," Fallon confirmed.

Quinn’s thoughts tripped over themselves. Maybe Baras had Armageddon Battalion on Hoth to keep them in reserves, so that after he crushed Vowrawn he could move them in and mop up the remaining Republic defense. It was a risk, certainly, but it made more sense—he needed it to make more sense than Baras being willing to risk the war effort in its entirety.

“Hoth is a big place, my lord,” he said when he noticed Fallon’s eyes move to his. “It could take a long time to find Griest.”

She shook her head. “Slinte is Baras’s man there. He’ll know where to find Armageddon Battalion.”

“Ah, yes.” He felt like an idiot, hoping she would have forgotten about Slinte. “Excellent thinking, my lord.”

Fallon’s expression closed off, narrowing slightly.

He forced himself to look briefly confused and then forced his expression to clear. “Of course, Baras is rather tough on underlings. Assuming Slinte hasn’t been disposed of, he’s your best lead.”

She nodded. “Dismissed, all,” she said, “Quinn, a word?”

“Of course, my lord.” He hoped he didn’t sound or look nervous. But she knew, she knew and she was going to kill him for it.

And then it would be over.

The rest of the crew left and Fallon moved over to Quinn. She extended a hand and lightly cupped his cheek. He wanted to break. The softness was unbearable and his eyes closed to let his cheek tilt against his hand. Her thumb brushed his skin, the leather of her glove textured from use. His eyes opened as her hand slid up to his hairline, disrupting the well-maintained tresses. “I can not imagine how disappointing this must be for you, Malavai,” she said. “We will see it through together.”

“I serve you,” he reminded her, hating the lie on his tongue. “Willingly and Eagerly, my lord.”

He wanted it to be true and he knew that didn't buy him very much.

“Good.” Fallon was taller than he was, only by about six centimeters and it only seemed to make a difference when she wanted it to.

Here though, she wasn't being dominating or imperious. She was warm, sincere, and he was actively betraying her. Fallon kissed him and he froze, wondering if she could taste the lie that had fallen out of his mouth. She must have, with how bitter it was. Malavai curled his arms around her and kissed her back, soft and slow and when it broke Quinn let his forehead rest briefly against hers.

"Commander Calum conveyed his thanks. It's all confidential of course, but you made an impression," she told him gently.

"It's an honor to serve," he answered with equal softness. "I'll set course for Hoth, my lord."

"I'll go tend to the girls."

She left his embrace and Quinn watched her go, wondering how torn he had to feel before he eventually ripped himself in two.

Chapter Text

A distraction from Quinn's existential angst arrived in the form of another fifteen messages from Moff Broysc. It served the dual purpose of getting Quinn's mind off what he was doing while reminding him that this was what Baras had saved him from.

Which at least made him feel… if not better, more stable.

This newest message made it clear that Broysc had completely lost the last remanants his mind. It was, as some would say, officially above his pay grade. Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose and went to find Fallon in her room. 

“My lord.” He gave her a small nod as he was admitted. “I’ve been dealing with a situation that’s getting out of hand.” 

Fallon elegantly unfolded from the couch—Quinn's eyes falling to watch her legs as they moved before he corrected—and padded over to the doorway where he was standing. “Oh?” She raised her brow curiously. “What sort of situation?”

“Moff Broysc.” He tried—and failed— to keep the venom from the name but something about the way he spat it warmed Fallon’s eyes. "He contacted the ship and was incensed to find me at the helm. He’s been sending recorded messages that are progressively more nonsensical.” 

“Really?” Fallon said, sounding almost amused. "Did he want anything in specific?

"I have no idea, my lord," Quinn admitted. “If there was a reason for him to contact you, it seems to have been lost. He’s always been scattered and aggressive, but now he seems completely unhinged.” 

She nodded and shook her head a little, shiny black hair catching the red light of her quarters. “I'll speak with him if he calls again.” 

Quinn nodded and cleared his throat. He could imagine what would happen if they were in a room together. There was something almost erotic about the idea of watching her unleash her fury on the moff, dying his white uniform red ever so slowly with the painstaking care she could put into pain when she was furious.

He cleared his throat. “I would appreciate that, my lord.” He straightened, forcing himself to mean that as professionally as possible. “Tens of thousands of soldiers and some of our most critical campaigns are at the mercy of his commands.” 

And there was the real problem. They were now at open war. Broysc was no longer a weakness the Empire coud afford to tolerate. His decade long grudge against Quinn was just the tip of an iceberg and now, finally, the rot needed to be cut away. 

Fallon was quiet for a long moment. She tilted her head to one side and raised one scarlet knuckle to her chin in consideration, yellow eyes studying Quinn intently. 

“My Lord?” 

“Private musings, Quinn," she assured him with a gentle gesture. "In any event, Broysc is a liability. I will see it dealt with.” 

"Thank you, my lord.” Quinn gave a small bow. “I will keep you informed.”  

“We are heading to Hoth, my lord,” Quinn told the tiny, flickering image of Baras in his palm. “Lord Noicrothatch intends to reassign General Griest to Corellia.” He held himself stiff as a board, voice low and the steam running behind him to disguise the sound.

“I will have Lord Draahg meet you there. She will think twice about interfering after he kills her crew. Ensure that you are not present, Quinn.” 

At least he had anticipated that.

“My lord.” Quinn shook his head. “If I may. I’ve studied her movements and her methods. If you injure, but do not kill the crew, you will stand a better chance of dissuading her. Lord Fallon will react to their deaths with fury and vengeance. She is tenacious, my lord. She will never stop hounding you. But if you remind her that they are vulnerable, you may get through.” 

He wondered if the pang in his stomach was indigestion or concern. He hoped it was indigestion, learning that Jaesa or worse Vette have wormed their way into his care would be functionally intolerable if they found out. 

Fallon loved them, and on the occasion he saw them through her, he almost understood. He watched Jaesa—who he usually considered dangerous and less than stable—brighten with delight and display an unwavering dedication not only to Fallon, which was expected, but to Vette, Pierce and even to a lesser extent himself. He could see in the way Fallon treated her all the traits that Fallon adored.

With Vette it was the same. Vette was irreverent and irritating, but also brilliant. She had a way with traps and machines and she approached the problems in front of them with optimism and a level head. He could see, in those moments, why Fallon adored her.

Protecting 'the girls', her girls, was all he could do.

Killing them would likely dissuade Fallon, or at least distract her to the point where she would be reckless and more easily dealt with.

But he couldn't allow it.

“Fallon?” Baras repeated the name with a cruel, mocking tone. “You are close to her?” 

“Yes, my lord.” There was no point in lying about it. It made him a target but if Darth Baras killed him at least it was over. And while she might mourn, it would be less of a blow to Fallon than losing either of 'her girls'.

“Very well, Quinn. The crew will be spared, for now.” 

Quinn inclined his head until the call ended. He knew he had bought time and nothing else. With luck, he would be able to persuade Jaesa to swear to Baras when Fallon was dead. If only long enough to formulate a better plan. He would collar Vette, keep her close. It was an indignity neither of them would enjoy, but it would only need to be long enough for him to get her to safety.

The Sith sought immortality. Traditionally, according to Fallon, this was sought through legacy.

He could protect her legacy, something that would matter to her and that Darth Baras might not even think about.

He looked into the mirror and thought of better days. Days when he didn’t care. 

And then, unbidden, he thought of breathing hard against Fallon's skin. Of the way she smiled at him and called him clever. He thought about the music that drifted through the ship and being on the frontline serving his Empire.

Making a difference.

These were his better days. Or at least they had been.

Maybe Fallon would discover his betrayal. Maybe whatever affection she felt for him would make his death quick and reasonably painless. It wasn't a cheerful thought, but it was the only one he had. 

They docked with the Adamas Space Station and Fallon dressed in her white thermals, the wampa-fur hood lying down on her shoulders. Pierce was dressed to match, tall and overbearing and Quinn hated that volunteering to go himself would be suspicious. 

The doubt was there, the question. Did she suspect? Had she told Jaesa or Vette to watch him? 

Would Draahg actually adhere to Quinn's suggestion and leave the crew alive?

Fallon stole a kiss before she left, leaning over his chair in the cockpit and tilting his face up to hers to drink him in.

“Be safe,” he muttered against his better judgement as she pulled away. “I’d hate to lose you."

“You won’t,” she gave him a sharp smile and took another kiss. “Resupply while we’re gone.” 

“My Lord.” 

While he waited for either Draahg or Fallon, Quinn received no fewer than eight holo transmissions from Moff Broysc. He stared at the third one in disbelief and resolved that, assuming Fallon survived her encounter with Draahg (and he wanted her too and he felt terrible for it) he would bring it to her attention. 

Jaesa felt Draahg a full five minutes before the airlock door was forced open. Quinn joined the girls in trying to fight him off, but no matter how many times Jaesa’s lightsaber went through him, the monster would not stop.

Quinn noticed Draagh moving for Vette and put himself between them. He fired, catching Draahg in the throat and the sith's eyes glowed with rage. But he didn't die.

Draahg reached out and the Force squeezed around Quinn's neck, lifting him up off the ground. He clawed at his throat, trying to relieve the pressure and only succeeding in drawing red lines down his pale skin.

The pressure let up when he was on the edge of consciousness, the glow of Jaesa'a dualsaber drawing Draagh's attention.

Quinn hit the metal deck, hard, his head bouncing off the durasteel.

As he plunged into blackness, he remembered Alderaan and the unbidden thought that passed through his brain as he lost consciousness was to wonder if Fallon would be as distracted by his injuies as General Gesselle had been when it was her lover.

Blackness was a reprieve. 

Quinn woke up in his bed, wearing his underclothes with bandages on all of his cuts. Wincing, he got up and dressed, heading for the lounge. He stood in the hallway for a moment, watching Pierce and Fallon. For her part she was the least kempt he had ever seen her. Her black hair was undone, stray strands in her tired eyes.

Pierce had set a cup of tea in front of her and his broad hand settled on her shoulder.

"Jaesa did more than her share of damage," Fallon said. "I think she still has Draahg's blood under her fingernails."

"Think so," Pierce agreed. "Gotta teach her to go for the soft parts if she loses herself to the rage like that." He gave her shoulder a small squeeze. "I can manage that."

"Thank you, Gaius."

“Vette’ll wake up soon, my lord.”

Fallon nodded, distracted and when her head moved the light shone on dark purple bruises along her neck. She looked up and caught eyes with Quinn. Wordlessly she rose from the couch and crossed the room to him, touching his cheeks and carding her fingers through his hair with such tenderness that Quinn’s eyes rolled closed in contentment. She didn’t seem to care that they weren't alone, and he wanted to but he was woozy and her hands were cold and soothing.

"I thought I'd lost you," she said. Her forehead rested against his. "Baras is going to burn for this," she promised.

Quinn felt like he was going to vomit, but Fallon seemed to attribute his wince to pain. 

“Rest," she instructed. "Pierce is a capable pilot and I need you at your best.”

“I’m fit, my lord.” Quinn forced himselt to stand straight. “What’s our heading?” 

“Voss,” Fallon said. She didn’t question his fitness when he asserted it. Didn’t correct him for correcting her. “Coordinates have been added to the galaxy map. Fly slow.” She shook her head. “Everyone is going to need another few days to recover.” 

"Yes, my lord.

She exhaled and turned back to the room and to Pierce. “I’m going to go check on Vette. Pierce?” 

He saluted when addressed. 

“Tell Jaesa we’ll be having tea in my quarters, a little late.” 

“Sir.” 

"Hey, Jerk."

Quinn cast his eyes first to the ceiling in bid for patience and then turned to look at Vette as she entered the cockpit. There were bandages on her lekku, but she was moving under her own power, stepping into the cockpit with a cup of caf.

"Did you need something?" he asked.

Vette set the cup down on the console, frowning. She exhaled and held her chin up. "Thanks, Quinn."

He blinked, trying to figure out what she was talking about.

Vette rolled her eyes. "You moved between me and that monster," she said. "Took his attention."

"I'm the better shot," he said, trying to deflect.

"Yeah, whatever." Vette shrugged. "I just wanted to say thanks. A couple of years ago, I don't think you would have."

"We're on the same crew," he reminded her. He looked down at the cup, the steam gently rising from it. Malavai exhaled. "I'm glad you're alright. Her lordship was distraught."

Vette nodded. "Back at'cha." She turned and left and Quinn picked up the cup.

He took a hesitant sip, half-expecting it to have been made with vinegar or, best case, with cream or sugar. The caf was black.

Quinn took another drink, and found himself hoping Vette would forgive him for what was bound to happen.

Over the next two days, Broysc sent no fewer than fifteen separate messages and Quinn finally sighed and went to find Fallon when the last one was actually live. Broysc, older, thinner, and somehow less stable, continued ranting even as Quinn left. 

He found Fallon leaning against the wall in the cargo bay, listening Pierce talk about some campaign or another while he moved some crates. She was smiling. It was a wonderful sight.

Even with Pierce there.

“My lord?” Quinn said, hating to interrupt the moment for Broysc of all things.

“Quinn.” Fallon turned. “Did you need something?” 

“Moff Broyc’s holo transmissions have increased. They are beginning to disrupt operations.” He shrugged. “He’s nearly incoherent—I can only assume some sort of dementia has set in. I have him on holo right now.” Quinn straightened, hands behind his back. “I believe it’s going to take your personal touch to assuage the situation.” 

“Of course.” Fallon said easily, she turned back to Pierce. “You'll have to regale me later.”

"Looking forward to it. Have fun with Quinn's moff."  

Quinn felt himself puff with indignation. Broysc was not his moff. He wanted nothing to do with the man.

Fallon, however, didn't feel the need to comment and instead followed Quinn out to the lounge, pinning her hair back as she did. Quinn forced himself to ignore Vette, still bandaged and perched on the back of the couch, as he transferred the call from the helm to the holoterminal in the lounge

Broysc was still ranting.

“Here he is,” Quinn said, wishing he could do away with their audience and knowing full well that even if Fallon let him, Vette would linger just out of sight.

There was nothing for it.

“—flew the coop!" Broysc shouted. "Your new cage will be smaller and tighter! Coffin-sized. Urn-sized! In a Locket I’ll wear around my neck!” 

Quinn exhaled. “He’s… unlikely to stop, my lord.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a nauseating wave of second hand embarrassment. “He didn’t even know he was on hold.” 

“Druckenwell proved my point!” Broysc howled. “My glory is mine! Mine! You’re nobody.” 

“It's not that I didn't believe you about the grudge, Captain, but I had expected it to be less… loud.” Fallon offered the holo a sharp smile. “Though there’s something almost romantic about wearing someone in a locket around the neck.” 

Pierce snorted from his corner—so it wasn't just Vette eavesdropping. 

“I would… rather not think about that, my lord.” Quinn huffed, but his embarrassment started to flicker away. She clearly wasn't judging him about it.

“Where’s my blaster!" Broysc continued. "I’ll shoot your face! Personally! And Again! Druckenwell won’t save you! I could blow Balmorra away! I’ll blow Balmorra away this time.” 

“You made an impression.” Fallon turned to look at Quinn. “I’m impressed.” 

“Thank you, my lord,” he said dryly. 

“Wait! What? Gone!” Broysc stopped and glared at Fallon as though noticing her for the first time. “Where’d he—there’s a sith on this! Why did you transfer me, Rodjnik? I’ll ship you off to Balmorra too.” 

Fallon turned her head a little, looking at Quinn for an explaination.

“Rodjnik is his communications officer, my lord.” Quinn couldn’t help the pity in his voice. Poor Rodjnik. “This… is how it has been.”

"And you didn't mutiny," she mused. "And here I thought your restraint made me unique."

Quinn's cheeks flushed. He was very aware of Pierce and Vette, but he cleared his throat and forced his shoulders to square. "Very different restraints, my lord."

"Mmm," she hummed. "I should hope so."

“Rodjnik am I through? I’m through? Yes or no?” Broysc shouted. “I don’t see—is this broken? All I see is a Sith.” 

“It’s rather like watching a collision, you just can’t tear your eyes away,” Fallon said, tilting her head to consider the holo.

“Wait!” Broysc snapped. “Now I’m understanding this. It was you, Sith, wasn’t it? You dared liberate The Admiral! Have you lost your mind?”

“The admiral?” Fallon asked, turning her head a little to look at Quinn.

Quinn sighed. “He calls me Admiral Malcontent.” He frowned when she bit back a chuckle. “He seems to think that’s my actual rank and name.” 

"Admiral Malavai Malcontent," Fallon mused.

"My lord," Quinn objected.

She smiled at him and he gave a distressingly mollified huff.

"Don’t you know he’s the one that lost the Battle of Talay?” Broysc demanded. 

Fallon looked to Quinn. 

“Broysc’s earliest command.” He shrugged. “Before I was born.” 

“It was his blunder that allowed the escaped Jedi targets to flee Taris before the bombardment!” 

“Ancient history,” Quinn gave her a tiny smile. “Broysc wasn’t even born.” 

“You are far better looking than Darth Malak was,” Fallon complimented, her smile as small and equally teasing as his. Quinn’s cheeks flared just a little bit pink. "And more clever, from the records we have."

"Thank you, my lord."

“He sabotaged the Glory Space Station for crying out loud!” Broysc shouted, clearly irritated that he wasn't being listened to. 

“I have no idea what that is.” Quinn shook his head but the smile remained.

Fallon chuckled warmly. "I'll assume it was a daring solo raid on a Republic holding," she said. "Seems like something you would do."

Quinn flushed a little darker. "Thank you, my lord."  

Vette made a gagging noise behind them and Pierce huffed a laugh.

“I hear him!” Broysc snapped, pointing wildly but only mostly at Fallon. “He’s talking! His insubordination is lethal! Paralyzing! It threatens the Empire and you do nothing!” 

“So this is the man who blocked your every promotion for ten years? Didn't your insubordination turn the tide of battle in our favor?” Fallon turned to look at Quinn, and shook her head when he noded. “Admiral is something of an understatement. You could have made Moff by now, you realize?” Something dark passed over her features. She turned to look at Broysc. "You ought to be muzzled before you do any more damage."

“You will not defy me!” Broysc growled. “Fight his disease, Sith!” The old man’s fingers twitched as he brought them up and clenched them into fists. “Save yourself and deliver him to me for execution! NOW! Are you listening?”

"Captain Quinn is mine," she said. "And I do not turn over valuable men to doddering fools."

“Then I accuse you along with him,” Broysc snarled. "Rodjnik! Cut transmission! I said cut it now!” 

The holo went dead and for thirty seconds there was silence before Vette started to giggle, rapidly joined by the deep, full chuckles from Pierce.

Assaulted by laughter and ignoring them to the best of his ability, Quinn turned to offer Fallon an apologetic look. “With Broysc in command, The Empire is in critical danger.” 

"It certainly seems that way," she agreed.

“I must implore High Command to do something about it.” 

“Any help I can offer is yours,” her eyes glowed, “Admiral.” 

Quinn sighed, but from her, the infuriating nickname felt gentle and loving. “A prepared statement would be beneficial. Thank you.” He looked past her to Vette and narrowed his eyes. “Satisfied?”

“Sure am, Admiral Malcontent. Suuuure am.”