Disclaimer: Star Wars: The Old Republic and the characters in this story belong to EA, Bioware, and Disney. I, in no way, intend to benefit or monetarily profit from the use of this setting and these characters.

Chapter 1: A Sickening Proposal

The feeling of finally leaving Balmorra, where I had been wasting my sharply honed potential and life, had been the highlight of the last decade for me. Earning a Captaincy and being given the option to serve the Sith directly under my master's apprentice, was near euphoria. I had finally endured and suffered enough. Things were finally beginning to look up. My Lord, Scarlette Uthallis, is a wily, passionate, sarcastically playful, and deadly Sith. As the apprentice to my master Darth Baras, she is in an exclusive club of the up and coming. He chose her, in part, due to her inherent ability to project emotions on those in close physical proximity to her. This could also be part of the reason for her quick escalation through the ranks of the Sith Academy. I do not understand if this ability is a fault in her force training, or an innate ability wholly unique to her, nor if it is a blessing or curse. I have not yet spent enough time in the direct company of a Sith to understand this phenomena, but it remains to be a complication that I must continually struggle against and accommodate for.

Scarlette had been acting unusually the entire walk back to the ship. That is to say, unusual for the few weeks that I've spent studying and serving under her. On any other occasion, after destroying her opponents and meeting her objectives, there would be a spring in her step and a smile on her face. She would radiate confidence and pride. I had come to greatly enjoy those small moments of victory before the next mission. At that moment on Nar Shaddaa, walking through the Mezzenti spaceport in route to our ship, I did not feel the usual cheerfulness and exhilaration of accomplishment washing over her. Instead, I felt disgust mixed with shame and the beginnings of what I thought to be an anxiety attack.

Following slightly behind and to her right, I chanced a glance at her face. Our surroundings passed us by and she did not seem to notice that I was still with her. Her face was stuck in a scowl and she kept furrowing and unfurrowing her brow, as though she were working out complex tactics in her head. It was unlike her to let down her guard and display any public weakness. If an enemy with equal knowledge to mine were to see what I was seeing, they may deem it an opportune time to strike. Although Lord Rathari had pledged himself to her cause, the Sith were hardly known for their exceptional loyalty and truth telling. At this thought my stance widened and my hand fell to rest on the holster of my blaster. I searched the terminal, glancing over alien tourists and Hutt cartel goons. If anyone dared to strike, they would first have to go through me.

As though she sensed my discomfort at the situation, she quickly halted, snapped her head and looked me dead in the eye. I have always thought her to be quite visually striking. A classic beauty, with a small frame, pale ivory skin, long shimmering black hair braided tightly to her scalp for battle, and shapely hips that beckoned one to watch while she tore through her opponents gracefully. Her eyes were an intense deep gray, but with the glowing red ring around them that signified her attunement to the dark side of the force. At times these rings were unnoticeable, and in the midst of battle when she was channeling the force, her eyes would be enveloped completely in a crimson glow. I snapped to attention, posture straight, with both hands held behind my back. I still felt her anxiety and growing level of disgust, but her face no longer displayed those emotions.

"Quinn," she said huskily with a wide grin spreading over her mouth. "I think we'll need some liquor to help us celebrate leaving this filthy planet behind."

"My lord?" I meekly questioned.

She seemed confused and cocked her head slightly to the right. "Nar Shaddaa, Quinn. The armpit of the galaxy I believe you called it. Baras be damned, we'll be off this rock before sundown."

"Yes, my lord."

She eyed me up and down and I could begin to feel a mild ease in her discomfort. Another, more familiar emotion was replacing it; however, I could not quite figure it out. "I believe Baras mentioned in his report of your prior performance that you, from time to time, appreciate a good Corellian whiskey."

Then it came to me, and I understood. She felt this way when she was being facetious, teasing me, or attempting to catch me off my guard. It was a mash-up of amusement and friendly affection. I knew she was up to something, but was relieved that her amusement at my expense was easing her tension.

"Yes, my lord," I said brusquely, "when I am caught up with my duties and during times of celebration I do find-"

"Good then," she interrupted while fishing her credit stick out of her side pocket and placing it in my hand, "as it also happens to be my favorite, I want you to take my credit stick and procure a case for the ship. Since you're new on board, I think it may help us get to know each other a little better," she winked at me coyly, "I'll send Toovee to help you carry."

Without any further instruction, she confidently turned on her heals and vanished through the open elevator door that lead to our hangar. I glanced at the credit stick, hand painted silver with what appeared to be nail enamel and covered with tiny pink decorative crystals that spelled out her family name 'Uthallis'. I'm positive that I scowled at the childishness of it as I turned toward the nearest cantina, content that my lord would make it safely back to the ship on her own and without incident.

The moment the elevator door closed and I was certain that I had left Quinn behind; my body was wracked with a sickening shudder. "Eww yucky," I found myself muttering and I pressed the button for our hangar. Everything had gone well today. Agent Dellocon had been successfully neutralized. His body guard, Sith Lord Rathari, was now in my pocket. For sparing his life, he had offered his talents to aid in crushing my master, Darth Baras. Only, that was not all he was offering. He also had something much more primal and sinister in mind when it came to our future.

My force powers often manifest themselves as an affective projection. If I am having a mood swing, those in close proximity also tend to feel the effects of my emotional state; the stronger my emotions, the stronger the reaction of others. It has been this way since I was a small child throwing tantrums that had the capacity to make my playmates and family become so angry they would destroy property or resort to deathly violence. This ability of mine works in reverse also, although not nearly as well. I find it very easy to discern the emotional states of others, but I am not generally overwhelmed by the emotions of others. I could count on this fact until today, when Lord Rathari got on bended knee and begged me to spare his life. He wanted more than just that out of me, and I believe the overwhelming miasma of force power around him aided in getting his point across.

I replayed the moment back in my mind. His glassy eyes roamed all over my body. He was saying all of the appropriate words, but behind those words I could feel his urge to strip me and hurt me, forcing my legs open to desperately impale me with his cock. Staring at him, more machine than man, his pasty white skin chapped around the edges of his neural implants, I felt ill. His body had long since been corrupted by the force. His veins bulged grossly and his skin was grayed in splotches. Also, it was plainly obvious from his wide girth and the presence of a double chin, that this had been his first foray outside of an office in quite some time. In hindsight, I should have killed him, scorched him from groin to throat while I had the chance!

I could not seem to shake it. I was horrified and disgusted waiting for the elevator door to open at my appointed floor. My body continued to shudder as though I was a weak willed rape victim, unable of defending herself. I found myself physically nauseated as I marched quickly through Imperial customs and across the hangar to my Fury Interceptor and quickly entered the security code for the ship. By this time I was frantic and hardly able to control the waves of abhorrence and nausea washing over me. The ship's droid, 2V-R8, or Toovee for short, was not at its usual place at the ship's entrance. I looked left toward the crew bunks and conference room; there was only silence. To the right, toward the engine room and cargo bay, I heard the tinking of a hammer and soft Rodian pop music. I turned the corner into the cargo hold and saw my willful former slave and companion Vette working at the craft station modifying her blasters. Toovee was in the corner of the hold sorting through and organizing components for her project.

She turned to me with a smile, "Welcome back Scar. I was just working on-"

It only took a moment before she began to feel the effects of my emotional state. I could see her dark red lekku visibly pale and begin to twitch.

"Toovee," I tried with all my might to hold myself together while swallowing down the bile that had risen in the back my throat, "go meet the Captain at the Mezzenti Cantina immediately."

"Excellent, I was just wondering what I could do to please you." The droid quickly laid down its current task and left the cargo hold. Moments later the familiar tones of the ship's exit door sounded, letting us know he had left the ship.

My stomach lurched and I began to add fear and helplessness to the already volatile emotional mix. Vette was now in the corner, shaking and tightly clutching her abdomen.

"Vette, I'm sorry I-" I fell to my knees as my stomach began to relinquish its contents, rather spectacularly, all over the floor of the cargo hold. I fell to my side heaving, being overtaken by tormented sobs.

I saw Vette, still shaken, reaching for her pocket holocommunicator. The familiar call tone sounded and Quinn appeared.

"Yes, what is it Vette?" The captain predictably sounded annoyed at the Twi'lek's contact. She carefully turned the communicator around toward me. What Quinn saw was me violently weeping, lying next to a puddle of my own sick. Even across the room and through a holoprojection, I could see his eyes widen and feel his emotions turn toward worry.

"Quinn," I managed to gurgle, "help me."

"On my way."

The communication ended and a brief respite of relief washed over me. I was going to be okay. Quinn, with all of his technical, medical, and military expertise, would be able to find a way to make it stop. I laid my head down on the cold metal floor and let unconsciousness sweep me away.