Balmorra, eleven months earlier …
Vette wrinkled her nose the second she and Xhareen exited the Balmorra spaceport.
"Eww, you ever been to Ylesia Prime?"
"Is that a backhanded way to get information about my past out of me?" Xhareen poked her Twi'lek companion on the upper arm, to reassure her she was joking. Although whether it was coincidence or Vette had uncovered something substantial, Xhareen wasn't sure. Vette had proven herself wily and invaluable since leaving Korriban; only the Maker knew what she'd gotten up to on her off hours or during the flight here from Dromund Kaas.
"That would be an awkward 'No,' my Sithy friend. I was going for 'this place stinks the same as the port there.' "
Xhareen knew that smell, although for her, for several years that smell meant home. She'd flown out of the Prime city port many times; maybe it was just excitement and relief that had colored her senses with the unmistakable mix of fuel and spice and sex and dozens of alien food shops.
This place just smelled of death, fuel and bombs. But she had work to do, and masters to please.
And a lieutenant to meet.
"The sooner we get to our contact's office, the sooner you can escape the smells, Vette." Xhareen had checked her data pad a half dozen times since landing and still it said the same thing: Lt. Malavai Quinn, Logistics, Materiel and Resource Planning coordinator, Sobrik City. Building Aurek 2, Sector 7.
Seemed like an important job for a lowly lieutenant, even one with Baras's backing. There were two majors in charge of logistics just at Kaas City spaceport alone. Not that this rock compared to the capital world, but still. This one probably had good connections. Someone's golden boy , she thought. Probably let everyone else do the work for him .
Xhareen decided she already didn't like him.
She looked over at Vette, whose left lekku began to twitch. "I know something," she half said, half sang.
Xhareen raised her eyebrows above the plasteel visor that covered the upper part of her eyeless face.
"Yeah, while you were pigging out, I was checking out this contact of ours on the holonet."
Vette wasn't going to just give up information – at least that's how things had been between them so far. "OK, what do I have to do to get the information from you?"
"Just ask?"
"Really, that would work?" Xhareen was truly shocked.
"Yeah, well in this case, it's something so potentially juicy, I have to share it with you. Apparently, he pissed off some moff, who is not at all well-liked, who busted him and court-martialed him.
Don't know why. Something to do with a big space battle. That's all I could find, and it was on some pretty shady channels. You know, hackers who like to court death by borrowing access to military secrets and all."
Xhareen found Vette's story hard to believe. Maybe that's why she was so willing to share. She'd made the whole thing up out of boredom. Why would Baras rely on someone with a notorious past as a troublemaker? He preferred secrecy, especially in his non-Sith contacts. Hells, that's why Xhareen was here, to track down one of Baras' spies buried so deeply in the Republic army, Baras could not locate him from the Citadel.
Then again, this Lieutenant Quinn could be just some functionary, and not really an "agent" of her master. Baras had an overbearing sense of his own importance. He probably thought the luggage porter at the space dock was his own personal agent, too. Like that unfortunate creature who met them on Dromund Kaas.
OK, she thought. Maybe I'll give this Imperial a second chance.
Lieutenant Quinn tossed the holocomm on his desk in disgust. Jillins again. He had to deal with the matter before Darth Baras's apprentice showed up. He needed to make a good impression, because he'd need Baras's approval if his final shot at getting off Balmorra and out of exile were to happen. Didn't do him much good if he had to explain why he allowed cowards in his command, even if that coward was his second cousin once removed.
My command , Quinn thought, picking up the holocomm and slamming it down on the desk again. Fifteen years of his life given to the military, saved tens of thousands of lives at Druckenwell, kept this cesspit of an operation out of resistance hands for 10 grueling years, and all he had to show for it was a single bar on his collar. All his planning, all his analyses, everything he could possibly contribute for the Empire, all of it wasted. Every request for transfer denied. Every application for promotion binned.
Days like this, he thought his mother perfectly justified in disowning him after his court martial. He never should have taken the deal. He thought his silence would buy him good will, instead, it made him look guilty. Incompetent and guilty, even worse. He thought he'd spend a few months, a year at most, at some remote outpost like Hoth, then be welcomed back. Instead, he'd been dumped into a black hole prison site and told he was going to be executed. Darth Baras had genuinely saved his life.
But for this?
He slammed his fist on the desk, grateful for the privacy of his spacious suite that served as private office and his quarters. He didn't like such displays of emotion, especially from himself, but Jillins was gaining a reputation as "the cock-up corporal," and it had been Quinn who recommended his first promotion. Quinn who had personally trained him in firearms competency.
And now, with the lives of his squad mates on the line, Jillins had been unable to pull the trigger on a terrorist resistance fighter running toward them, as it turned out, with a live grenade. As always, it had been Sgt. Drix'el who covered for him, took the man down with a single shot.
A light on the desk flashed, summoning him to the command floor. He could have dealt with Jillins in private, but decided against it. The rest of the men needed to see he held no favorites.
Jillins was already waiting, shaking and nearly sobbing. "Report, Corporal. Tell me why we are having this conversation again." Quinn tried to keep his voice steady, but that wasn't likely to happen.
"I … I couldn't pull the trigger, sir."
"Why not, soldier? Did you forget how? Did you forget all the hours I spent tutoring you on how to use your weapon?"
"No, sir, not at all. It's different when you're pointing at a simulator, or an animal carcass. I can't …"
"You can't shoot an enemy. One who was coming to wipe you and your entire squad from the galaxy."
Jillins looked down at his boots.
"It's your job, Jillins. To shoot the enemies of the Empire. To keep your comrades safe, like you'd keep your family safe.
"Sir, I apologize, sir. It was the best I could do."
Quinn grabbed him by the collar and got right up into his face. Politeness, propriety, all that was garbage if you couldn't do your job. He knew his anger was getting the better of him but for this moment, it was called for.
"If that's your best, you're useless to me. I can shoot you dead with a clear conscience. Is that what you want?"
"N-no, sir."
He pushed the boy away. He wanted to put him in the brig but he needed every hand he had. For now, he'd let him stew for a few hours, then send orders for three weeks of double cleaning duty shifts. That's what amounted to punishment for cowardice nowadays, whereas bravery and fast thinking that saved the Fleet had gotten him three months in solitary. He wasn't sure who he was more disgusted with, Jillins, or his younger self.
"Then focus, Jillins. Dismissed."
Just then, the room seemed to brighten into a lighter shade of gray and the temperature rose a dozen degrees. Quinn saw he was being stared at, by a brown-skinned humanoid woman wearing a cybernetic visor, and a blue-skinned Twi'lek not wearing a collar. Stars, she probably talked as much as Drix'el did.He was a highly competent officer, and as a Twi'lek, able to blend in with the locals when necessary, but his incessant need to "keep you company, loo" drove Quinn mad sometimes.
But this Twi'lek was quiet and walked a circumspect distance behind the Sith, who held her head high as she strode across the situation room. A young woman, yet she radiated power. Quinn prided himself on his ability to read people, even if he felt awkward moving on from that point.
He couldn't quite bring himself to make the connection that this was, indeed, Darth Baras's apprentice. Baras generally favored male apprentices, and the ones he'd sent here previously had all been rather blunt and brutish.
But enough dawdling. Quinn recovered quickly. There was no doubt this was a special person, of that he was convinced. But she was Baras's person. His apprentice. She was here because she had a job to do.
As do I , Quinn thought. No matter what his intentions were for getting off this planet, he would do his job. Service is its own reward.
He bowed as she walked up to him.
"I apologize for the delay, my lord. Lt. Malavai Quinn. I'm to be your liaison here on Balmorra."