Not so much fluff, here, sorry.

Quinn ducked his head as he leaped down from the shuttle when it touched against the hangar floor, listening to the droning call of the computerized voice overhead warning of his team's return. Sweat etched a path through the grease-smeared grime on his face as he unbuckled the head gear he'd yanked on for the mission, but he couldn't help the twist of his lips when Pierce stepped up alongside him to groan loudly, "Getting old, I think. That's what has me aching for a long, hot soak in a tub, even more than downing a pint of something cold, I just know it. Damn, I'm tired."

Quinn rolled his own shoulders, thinking sourly that Pierce was probably correct. Except it wasn't a pint of anything he wanted right then. A good hour soaking inside his wife, more like. He felt his groin twitch at the mere thought of her slim legs wrapped around his hips, hugging him close to her warmest core. He coolly ignored the sardonic grin that Pierce shot him as he canted his hips to the side, trying to ease the gnawing ache in his groin that had persisted for the last several weeks, now. Gods. He really was getting old, if the thought of another month-long mission away from his wife sent such a bitter pill rolling through his stomach.

The strength of his feelings, of course, roused the bond he shared with Lusiel. He felt her, the winding stretch of her there in his mind, just a brief flare of warmth and desire. Enough that he knew she shared the sharp edge of wanting that he felt right then.

He snatched up a cloth, to scrub against his face as he watched over the rest of the soldiers tumbling out of the shuttle, listened to them grumble and mutter as they went about securing the weapons they'd retrieved from some absurdly stupid pirates trying to buy their way into the good graces of the Cartel by stealing the things from the Empire. He tightened his uniform, until it fit firmly into careful place along his lean frame once again, before stepping forward to properly direct them in their work, concentrating on the task rather than his fervent desire to return home. Or, at the very least, settling with a cup of hot caf over his holoterminal as he retrieved his messages, knew he'd have several from Malissel at least.

His youngest was avidly fascinated with the intricacies of the holonet, the lightning fast communications that occurred using varied hyperwave transceivers throughout the galaxy. Malissel's tutors were overwhelmed, in fact. His daughter had a sharp, engaging mind, and she was strong-willed enough she refused to be stifled, regardless of what her teachers deemed "normal perameters for her young mind". She usually became quite frustrated, kicking against them with her small feet in fits of temper before insisting that someone else answer her questions. Quinn himself was her regular "someone else". It wasn't even unusual for her to rush into his study and stomp her feet, insisting he stop whatever meeting he was involved in, just to attend her curiosity. That last one had proved particularly amusing, if he recalled correctly.

"But, sir! She knocked me off my feet when I wouldn't compare the velocity of a blaster bolt up against a lightsaber thrown by a force-user, to determine which would move faster! I wasn't expecting that strong a blow from such a young child. She's only four years-old!"

Liss had wrinkled her tiny nose in disgust at the man, looking so much like her mother - with her deep brown eyes flashing angrily - that he'd had to choke back a bark of laughter. "If you didn't know how to find out, you only had to say so!"

"But I know how to do it!" He'd looked bewildered, actually. Quinn thought the fellow couldn't understand how it was he 'd become involved in a real argument over logic with a child just barely far from being called a toddler. Actually, he wasn't certain what he found more amusing. That the man had descended into the argument in the first place. Or that he ultimately lost it to her. Because Liss had stood there in front of his desk, her small arms crossed over her chest as she rolled her eyes, sighing, "Mabey it was how young I am. It made you forget."

Quinn had saved the man, finally, simply waving him from the study before assisting Liss in setting the standards of her experiment into proper context. It had provided a rather interesting afternoon, in fact. What with Pierce's determination to make the gambit a real contest between his blaster and Lusiel's lightsaber. He'd grudgingly lost the match, of course. His bitter self-recrimination after he lost had made for several very enjoyable hours for Quinn himself. It was made so much better when both of Quinn's daughters trilled loudly, "Knew it," as they celebrated Lusiel's victory. The look on Pierce's face had proved priceless.

Now, Quinn only briefly acknowledged Pierce's weary complaint, nodding, "A bath would be … pleasant, yes." He glanced back at the rest of the team. Arlos and Cole were busily directing several of the ship's personnel handling the packs that contained the stolen weapons they'd retrieved from the Cartel's pirates, stacking the things carefully inside of cargo containers for transport back to Dromund Kaas. He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it out from the dry stiffness his helmet had left behind, "See that Captain Lorant records the name of the man we lost, Pierce."

Pierce grunted, glancing down at the dried blood staining Quinn's thigh. Not that the blood detracted from his overly neat and tidy appearance, either. Even the small streaks of dirt and sweat served to mark him a steady, capable Imperial officer, a real professional who ran up there at the front with the entire team, rather than that he was haphazard or unkempt. Fuck him if he didn't manage to keep his uniform straight and sleek even as he was doing what needed doing - bloody amazing. Pierce grumbled sourly, "He was too eager for glory, for making some sort of name for himself. Damn fool, running in there like that. Trying to save 'im nearly got you killed. And, shit. One of these days I'm going to figure out how to look as damn good as you do after sweating like a pig through one of these missions."

Quinn shrugged. "Haven't managed it in all these years, Pierce. You'd think you would've given up by now. Count it an exercise in futility, perhaps."

"I still hate you."

"That's good."

"Oh, my. You're special forces, are you not, Imperial? On a mission of some sort? And injured? How thrilling."

Quinn inwardly winced as he turned until he faced the fresh-faced Sith who's blue eyes gleamed eagerly as she scanned his frame for signs of blood and pain, looked past him towards the soldiers tiredly gathered around the crates they were sealing. She was young, this Sith, with her pale blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun against the nape of her neck. But her eyes were lit with diabolical fascination as she regarded them. Quinn imagined her panting with excitement over the signs of battle stretching across each man's face and body as they wearily catalogued their losses and gains, there in the hangar. Still, he mentally tucked aside his frustration with the woman's mean interest, along with his longing for a warm bath and night's rest, neatly shutting the doorway in his mind behind such simple issues, as he focused on Darth Acina's apprentice. Ahnn was her name, he remembered.

"A grazing wound only, my lord. I'm sorry if we're disturbing your own work, here." He glanced towards the section of the hangar where Ahnn was supposed to be overseeing the transport of several crates she'd insisted contained highly dangerous materials. Which was precisely why he'd argued against docking there in the same hangar. When a Sith apprentice to the Sphere of Technology claimed a thing was dangerous, you were well-advised to keep your distance from the thing, he believed. But space on the Imperial cruiser was finite, the demands of the war taking precedence over their varied missions. Weapons powered by isotope-5 were precious things, of course, but hardly so valuable that anything smaller than a cruiser could be diverted to retrieve his team.

Probably why the chances of him actually getting a bath anytime soon were slim to none, too. His cabin was equipped with a sonic shower, rather, with room enough for only one figure to stand upright in. A slim figure, to boot. The most relaxation he could hope for was to eventually fall down asleep into the tiny bed he'd been allotted. It's why he'd been looking forward to time spent with pictures and voices from home, moments soft enough he'd be able to forget the look in the eyes of the soldier he'd been unable to keep alive. And the sleep he'd enjoy afterwards might be enough to get him through the next few days, to boot.

Only a few days more, before he could rejoin his wife. He missed her. He missed the way she slept with her head tucked right up close to him, under his chin, missed the way she laughed over his careful organization routines in the closet they shared, missed the way she licked his ear right before some high-ranking nabob visited her offices, just so he'd shiver in anticipation of the fool's leaving. He especially missed the way she looked sprawled across her desk, there. Thinking of Lusiel made him even more keen to avoid the woman in front of him. He glanced sideways towards Pierce, subtly inclining his chin. The big soldier grunted softly as he looked to make sure the crates were more quickly prepared for transport, watched as the team rushed to finish the task.

Ahnn clicked her tongue against her teeth as she leaned sideways to better see the temporary bandage Quinn had secured against his leg. "How unfortunate, that they'd mar such a delicious-looking body. Is there any chance to avoid scarring? I'm sure a small bit of force-strong healing would help you avoid such a possibility."

Quinn frowned, glancing sideways towards Pierce. The soldier's low grumble and studious consideration of the floor belied his keen awareness of the byplay. He had a sudden memory of Pierce in the mess on the Black Wing, sitting there as if uncaring while he chanted statistics regarding Sith relationships, "They're over two hundred percent more likely to commit adultery than normal people." Ahnn didn't appear to be any sort of Sith to challenge such norms, either. He'd neatly avoided Ahnn's regular advances towards various officers on the cruiser, concerted enough that he knew she was completely unaware who it was he served. He'd even taken to consuming meals in his quarters. With Pierce, no less.

Pierce had avoided the woman like she was the plague, too, anyway. He practically ran if he saw her coming through a doorway. Self-preservation at its most precious, Quinn silently laughed. His wife's apprentice was only slightly less possessive than his own wife, actually. Pierce had muttered to Quinn once, even as he scampered out of the officer's mess one afternoon, "Damn it, Jaesa'll fry my sorry ass if she thinks I even looked." Quinn might have laughed over the situation, if he didn't sense the truth, that Ahnn's provocative behavior had far more to do with perverted delight at causing even perceived pain and distress to the married men she victimized, than any sort of desire for sex. She made it a point to mark the men, even. He'd noticed tell-tale scratch marks against the neck of the ship's captain, marks he was sure would scar just in time for the man to return home to his wife. The pitiful fellow actually shuddered when he caught sight of Ahnn walking down a corridor, dropping his eyes shamefaced whenever he regarded her.

She wasn't the first Sith who showed such ... tendencies. He'd only hoped to escape her notice long enough, just long enough, is all. He carefully hid his disgust behind a stony expression, now. He gathered himself, "As I indicated, it's a minor wound. I highly doubt I'll bear any permanent mark from the encounter."

She smiled slowly. "It's perhaps best to be certain, however. You should soothe the injury in a hot tub of water, keep it from swelling. Your … wound, that is. I heard you mention your desire for a bath, anyway." She actually drawled the word desire.

Pierce inhaled, looking back again towards the last of the weapons crates the team was sealing shut. He grunted helpfully, leaning closer to Quinn, "Need to get those guns stored properly, colonel sir. You're required to sign them into storage."

Ahnn shot the soldier a frosty glare. Quinn felt like laughing all of a sudden, as he realized the irony in the situation. He quite nearly remarked how lucky he was, not to have invited this Sith to use a holoterminal in his quarters. His life had never quite been the same after the last time he extended a Sith such an invitation. Of course, he'd been enthralled from the start by that Sith, to the point he delighted in her flirtatious overtures. It was one of his favorite memories, in fact. This Sith? He only felt the purest disgust as he considered her.

Ahnn was snarling at Pierce, "Perhaps you should show some initiative … captain, is it not? I'm certain your colonel would … appreciate it. Would you not, colonel?"

Quinn's face was carefully blank, as he leaned back onto the heels of his boots, clasping his hands loosely behind him in as relaxed a stance as he could manage. "The captain is correct, however. My attention is required to oversee the handling of the weapons we retrieved on Nar Shaddaa."

Ahnn looked at him calculatedly, smiling with the purest cruelty. He braced himself. "You ... captain. You will leave us alone. Your colonel is going to appreciate what it means to service a Sith."

Pierce stiffened slowly. Even methodically. He stepped closer to Quinn, until they stood nearly shoulder to shoulder. Quinn imagined the calculations the soldier was making, furiously fast as he stood there. He'd once described to Quinn Lusiel's response to some perceived threat he'd made against him. Right after the incident, in fact. Pierce had offered to throw Quinn out of the Wing's airlock and Lusiel hadn't hesitated, hadn't stopped even to wipe the blood Quinn had left her to bleed across her abdomen before she backhanded Pierce with a force punch he swore lost him half his teeth. "You ever threaten him again, and I'll kill you, Pierce! Don't you ever dare to question my judgment!"

Pierce stood straight as he faced the Sith apprentice, now. He looked over the woman's shoulder with his own roughly neutral expression. "Can't do that, my lord. I'm obliged to my own Sith Lord, in fact. Colonel Quinn's needed to complete this task, rather." He carefully canted his shoulder, drawing attention to the blackened edge of his armor, there. The marking described his loyal service to a Sith Lord. Not that Ahnn seemed overly impressed, either.

Ahnn's pale blue eyes were flinty as she regarded them. She waved a single hand, "My master is Darth Acina. She sits on the Dark Council. Your lord would understand, I'm certain." Her gaze blazed when Pierce stood firmly in place, unmoving. She stepped closer, glaring at them both, "You'll leave him to me, Imperial."

Pierce stared at her, "No. My lord."

She shrieked in pure rage, the sound echoing through the bay. Quinn tried interceeding, raising one single hand before she acted. But she was already flinging the force towards Pierce. Shouts resounded through the space as Pierce's hulking frame went flying. He yelled out, ducking his head down in a well-practiced move as he barrelled into the crates the soldiers were packing carefully. Quinn thought crazily how lucky Pierce was, that Jaesa had made such a practice of flinging the man all around the place. Made him rather proficient at staying in one piece, today. The crash of the impact resounded, a booming sound interspersed with the wild shrieks from terrified technicians and enginners in the place who went running out of the way of the maddened Sith.

Pierce sat up from his prone position behind the tumbled crates, looking towards Quinn with a frantic expression. He waved him back, shouting, "No, Quinn! Damn it, get away!" But Quinn was already rushing to stand between him and the Sith, holding his hand up once again as if to stop her. She stalked towards him, her gaze hard and cold, like glass. He breathed slowly, "My lord, if you will only ..."

She lifted him suddenly, wrapping him up in the hard, terrible bounds of her force ability. He gasped as he felt the powerful squeezing force she compelled against his chest, wheezed out a pitiful huff of air. Pierce shouted something, but Quinn couldn't understand it through the ringing in his ears. The Sith leaned closer to him, murmuring, "You fool ... I would've given you pleasure. But now I'll make it hurt!" He saw stars dancing in the air in front of him as he started to lose consciousness, but she withdrew just enough that he was able to inhale fresh air, gasping loudly. She laughed as she reared back, using her force ability to drag painful sensation down along the entire length of his body. It hurt! He dug his teeth into his lip, strived to keep from screaming, and he felt a sudden spurt of blood in his mouth.

Quinn held his head back, yelling, "Stop!"

And then she was there. "Malavai." Her voice in his head was simple and cold. A sign of how enraged she really was, how bitterly her anger ran. The normal easing into their bond was more of a harsh, terrible snap this time, as Lusiel's awareness was only suddenly there. It completely overtook him, until it seemed she'd actually entered his head, seized him and shoved him - hard - into one of those rooms there that he'd once described to her. Complete and utter safety, the feeling washing over him. And then everything went black and Quinn stopped.

Ahnn froze, her laughter stuttering into confused silence as she felt her force ability seized, held in place. The power of that grip was tremendous, terrifying - like the darkest places where fears were actually made, where they were shaped and formed into the most terrible forms imaginable! Ahnn felt it, this force, this rage ... It was watching her! What was it, she agonized. But it was holding her, keeping her frozen in place. And then it abruptly wrenched against her, hard enough the pain she was causing actually reflected back upon herself. She screamed, shrilly, strident with fear as she fell backwards to land hard upon the floor straight on her ass.

Ahnn watched as the Imperial officer fell, crumpling towards the floor. She felt perverse satisfaction at the thought he'd hit the floor even harder than she had. But he actually slid through the air, rather. Pierce leaped forward, catching Quinn's body up against his chest and held him firmly as he glared over his shoulder towards the Sith woman. He heard the rasp of Quinn's voice, strained and choked, "Pierce ... kill her. Now." Pierce startled, his eyes wide as he jerked his gaze to Quinn, considered the bleary look in his eyes.

And he understood. Not Quinn's order at all. Nor would he ever, ever tell a single soul that he knew - knew down deep! - that the order was Lusiel's ... straight from her, direct and succinct. Even if it was offered through Quinn's pained voice. Pierce slanted his eyes towards the Sith woman, watched as she twitched and jerked there against the floor. He'd once told Quinn about Lusiel's punishment, the way she'd knocked against the side of his face with a tough force-powered punch. He remembered spitting several shattered teeth against the floor, remembered telling Quinn about that, too.

What he'd never told Quinn had far more to do with the promise he made to Lusiel afterwards. You simply didn't tell any man how much you admired his wife. Not when that man knew good and well you'd gotten a good, strong erection the first time you met her. Because let's face it, Lusiel was a damn attractive piece of woman. Wasn't a man alive who wouldn't want her, he thought. But Pierce didn't imagine he'd ever touch Lusiel like that, and he didn't really regret it. Mostly because he really did like to touch Jaesa and she'd probably rip his cock off if he even thought any different. Didn't change that Pierce mightily respected his Sith Lord, though. To him, she was like a diamond. This glittering, shining thing that was still so fucking tough it'd shred steel into pieces given the chance.

And that damn Baras had struck at her, used Quinn against her, like a damn bludgeon. Pierce had felt it like the keenest sense of personal failure. Firstly, that his ship was penetrated, overtaken. But more that someone on his team had paid such a heavy, personal price for that failure, that the leader he followed was targeted for it. He'd felt like hitting something, someone. He'd taken the blow straight to his pride, taken it personally, because he should've seen it, stopped it. Fuck, Jaesa had told him beforehand that something was wrong! It was utterly galling. Every one of them had paid the price for his fuck-up, even, because they were all left reeling from the incident. None more than Quinn, he knew. He'd interrupted Quinn from a nightmare once.

No, Pierce had decided he'd fucked up all but royally. He'd failed his ship, his crew, his team. He'd failed his commander, the one he personally respected more than anyone he'd ever followed. That's why he promised Lusiel - told her, "He'll come to no harm while I can prevent it. I swear it." And he'd kept the promise through every day and year since then, too. Wasn't going to change today, not with Quinn's form slumped against his chest and Lusiel's fierce rage blazing out from his eyes. Even if Quinn got on every one of his last nerves. And truth be told ... nope, he couldn't do it, he thought to himself, scowling. He simply couldn't admit that sometimes he even liked the fucking nabob. Leastwise, not out loud. The damn prick still got on his nerves too often. No, he only tucked his head close to Quinn's ear, and he grunted, "Yes, my lord."

Pierce slowly stepped apart from Quinn, waited until he was sure the man was able to at least stand there in place. Then he edged around him, ignoring Cole calling to him, asking him what was happening. Pierce just stepped towards the Sith. Once, then twice. He stood there, looming over her. She glared up at him, "You, Imperial. You'll help me rise. Do it." But he shook his head. He figured at the last she deserved a bit of understanding. So he grumbled low, "Warned you I'm obliged to a Sith Lord already."

He leaned down, watched her blue eyes going wide with shock as she slowly realized the truth. He smiled tightly as he knelt over her, as he slowly straddled her paralyzed figure, "Lord Lusiel is a tad possessive of her husband, you see. So this is real personal. I'm not sorry for it. Just wanted you to know." Ahnn blinked slowly, watching in frozen bemusement as the soldier raised a single, large and beefy fist over her head. She wanted to scream. But the power holding her in place didn't allow it, didn't allow her to cry a single tear or even whimper a single brief sound. It made the entire process singularly eerie, the soldiers gathered nearby would say much later. They'd shake their heads as they described the scene, the way that Sith lay there against the floor. Not making a single sound as Pierce slowly and steadily beat her to death.

"Darth Acina, let me be quite clear. Your fool apprentice assumed she could insult my husband, during the course of his duties in service to the Empire. She went so far as to impede him and the soldiers he was leading, hindering them in retrieving weapons essential to the martial abilities of our Empire's fighting forces. So, no. The soldier who acted in defense of my interests has been duly rewarded for his efforts, in fact. Now. Offend me with further complaints and endless whining curiosities, and I will make sure to meet with you personally to discuss my sense of personal upset still further. The last Sith I met in such a fashion wore a title of Darth and sat on the Dark Council, too. Do not mistake me.

- Holotransmission recording; from Lord Lusiel Phyre, the Wrath of the Emperor; to Darth Acina, of the Sphere of Technology on the Dark Council

"Lord Lusiel, I truly believe you've misunderstood! I only hoped to convey my personal respects, as well as my hopes your man has been cared for as befits a hero in service to the Empire. Both of them, in fact. There is no need for any further communications in regards this matter, trust me. Sincerest hopes."

- Holotransmission recording; from Darth Acina, of the Sphere of Technology on the Dark Council; to Lord Lusiel, the Wrath of the Emperor