For the duration of Quinn's story it is up to the reader how much of this information is conveyed to Jaesa and how much is kept within the confines of Quinn's own mind. Readers get the unfiltered version. ^_^
-J-
Alderaan, Part IV
I wished to all the stars Her Lordship would consider wearing a top that offered her a bit more protection. One would think whatever had marked her—some creature undoubtedly, with scrabbling claws—would have taught her the value of protecting her soft spots.
Permit me to rephrase: to protect vital regions. One could take a credit and bounce it off most planes of Her Lordship's body, the way one performs a bunk check in basic training.
I'd have to be content to leave the kolto patch to do its work and pray she didn't rip the butterfly strips beneath the patch out of place, thereby opening her wounds further. Fortunately, Her Lordship is not a Sith convinced of her own invincibility—possibly owing to the scars working their way down her left side from under her breastband almost to her knee… and possibly owing to the fact that they were relatively recent, those scars.
The relief that she would let me do my job, fix the injury properly once we were in a safer locale for doing so, was mild. Mild because I knew her work would just get her banged up again. It was silly sentiment to entertain for a variety of reasons.
As we made our way through Castle Organa, Her Lordship worked herself into a towering rage—a rage held in check only by the discipline instilled in her to have a place to direct one's rage as though it were a missile rather than simply throw it around to impress or intimidate people.
I'd never really wondered much about the Sith, their training, how they thought—it was all above my pay grade and lot in life—until Her Lordship appeared. What was it the Jedi called her? 'A fascinating and contradictory example of her Order.'
She's certainly that, not given to intemperate rages or abusing inferiors without cause, exercising her power rather than wasting breath to convince others she has it through weight of words. In some ways she reminds me forcibly of Darth Baras… yet I would never say that out loud, which in itself is suggestive. Like but not like, so to speak.
By the time we reached the biggest, most ornate set of doors—I could only assume Her Lordship was employing some strange Force-scrying ability to pick her direction—she seemed almost beside herself, like a bomb ready to explode if jostled.
An ironic turn of phrase, really, because with a brisk motion the doors in front of us nearly flew off their hinges, slammed by some powerful, invisible force (another ironic turn of phrase) to allow us access. A brief survey revealed an assembly of house troopers superintended by a Jedi—all of whom looked discomposed. Behind this questionable line of defense was an older couple, both stark white and pasty, fear-sweat standing out on their skins.
For a few moments, up until Her Lordship stopped walking into the room, the only sound was that of our shoes on the glassy marble floor.
Such an exorbitant place, Alderaan, and the only place thus far that's gotten under Her Lordship's skin. She was fine on Balmorra; she was interested in Nar Shaddaa; even Tatooine's pervasive skin-searing suns didn't ruin her mood. Alderaan, though… I'd never seen her like this. In fact… I daresay she would consider it a reward to be allowed to stay in order to grind this world under her heel for no other reason than the satisfaction of hearing bones crack and flesh squish.
I could only suppose this came from her life as a member of the social elite rather than her life as a Sith.
The red light from Her Lordship's lightsaber flickered as she gave the weapon a twirl—less for show and more to keep her wrist loose. I've noticed she does it when she's thinking too, even if she's not holding a weapon.
I let my attention place her, the Jedi, and the Willsaam couple in my mind, leaving me free to concentrate on the troopers.
"Well, here we all are. At long last," Her Lordship declared softly, her purring tone hiding the bomb of emotional fuel upon which she sat.
"I didn't think one assailant…" the Willsaam man—Gregor, if I remember correctly—stammered, looking utterly flummoxed and more than a little shaky. He shook his head in lieu of finishing his sentence.
I had to agree with him, or would have… have done, as I think about it. On Balmorra, when I attributed typical Sith capabilities to Her Lordship. Not so, start to finish.
"I warn you, Sith, you will not harm Parvan and Gregor Willsaam. I have sworn it." The Jedi's voice was young, a clear tenor, with a timbre of someone who believed so fully in the fallibility of Sith and infallibility of his own Order that it made me want to retch. He wasn't taking Her Lordship seriously enough, which made me suspect he was attached to House Organa by blood and allowed himself to bask in the comfort of the home ground advantage.
House Organa likes to paint itself as one of Alderaan's heroes.
Thul is more practical: there are winners and there are losers.
I could almost hear Her Lordship's lip curling at this Jedi's blind surety. Surety without grounds to base it upon. "And your oaths have what to do with me?"
The troopers with the Jedi shifted uneasily, like so many nervous birds.
The Jedi grew tense, probably sensing even more forcibly than I did Her Lordship's bad mood sheeting off her, like rain on a Dromund Kaas window.
"Please, wait," Gregor intervened.
The Jedi turned, keeping one eye on Her Lordship, to give the man his attention. "Go ahead."
At least he had the sense not to look away completely. Taking his eyes off her for even a second would ensure he'd never see anything again.
"If we are really the cause of all this death I-I want to know why."
Easy: Her Lordship is a Sith hunting a Jedi. That much ought to be obvious. It astounds me how many people not allied with the Sith are surprised by their behavior. Nomen Karr on that little station, for instance, so surprised that Her Lordship was willing to destroy the inhabitants. As if she could have let them live—operational security demanded their lives. And as if their being unarmed was a fact worth considering. It's as if the Jedi preach how low the Sith are, yet expect a higher standard of action from them.
Ridiculous.
"Surely you've told them?" Her Lordship inquired of the Jedi, ignoring Gregor's question.
"So it is about Jaesa," Parvan said, her lined face clouding as she studied Her Lordship, all fire and darkness, capability and strength.
"Very much so," Her Lordship answered calmly.
The Jedi ignited his lightsaber, a quick gesture, a nervous gesture, like flicking out a claw, as if it ought to frighten or intimidate Her Lordship… or bolster his own sense of security.
Her Lordship didn't flinch, didn't adjust her footing, didn't give any indication the Jedi had done anything worth more than simply noticing.
The Willsaam couple, at Parvan's direction, took a few steps back, seeking to give the Jedi elbow room.
"Please, no more bloodshed!" Gregor bleated, holding up his hands placatingly. "If there's something you want from us, I'm willing to listen!"
"Gregor," his wife said softly. "The only thing this Sith wants from us is our lives."
Her Lordship chuckled at that. "Give the woman a prize. It must be you from whom Jaesa gets her Force sensitivity."
Her Lordship seemed to compress, a movement almost like relaxing but which ended in tension. I don't think anyone who didn't know her, who hadn't watched her jump from at-rest to full-action would notice.
I readied myself, re-placing all the people in the room again before picking my targets and assigning the order in which to take them.
Her Lordship did not spring forward as the woman babbled to her. That can only mean Her Lordship derives information, real information, from the conversation. And yet, it's only about the daughter's role…
…but Her Lordship has expressed an interest in obtaining the girl for herself, to turn the Padawan to the Dark Side and bring her into the fold. It makes the girl less a threat to Darth Baras in the immediate future…
I recognize a shot being put in a locker for future use. Just in case. It made me wonder how long it would take before Her Lordship and Darth Baras finally turn on one another… and what I'll do when that time comes. The thought ached like a bad tooth. It would be a battle between titans, even though Her Lordship begins at a disadvantage of resources.
I flinched inwardly as, suddenly in the midst of my thoughts and the conversation around me, Her Lordship's holocommunicator went off. It might have been amusing had the timing not been so poor.
She ignored the chirrup.
If it's Duke Kendoh, she'll kill him. Then again, I suspect she's looking for a reason—has orchestrated a reason—to do just that.
Anxiety picked at my nerves.
"You're not going to get that?" the Jedi asked sweetly.
"It will keep," Her Lordship answered darkly.
The call cut out, then started up again. Someone who really wanted to speak to her.
That shortens the list of who it might be. I only hoped it wasn't Darth Baras—as improbable as it was for him to call her in the middle of a task. After all, why should he? He's not one to micromanage.
"Are you certain? It sounds important and I can wait."
It was Darth Baras. Her Lordship tensed out of battle readiness as she regarded his squat metal-faced personage.
I wanted to groan aloud as a cold hand grabbed my innards and twisted.
"Apprentice. So kind of you to take my call." The glare was audible.
The Jedi looked surprised by this unexpected address, then smirked like a schoolboy seeing a fellow of whom he was not fond being chewed out by the teacher. I half expected him to pull a face or stick out his tongue. Something juvenile.
"Forgive me, my master, but I shall have to call you back," she declared quite calmly, severing the call before sticking the unit back in its pouch.
The Willsaams were dead before anyone could move; the troopers were all dead by the time Her Lordship staggered the Jedi. She pressed him hard and was done in moments, overwhelming him like a large wave slamming into a small village.
Her visage was white with fury as she drew out the holocom. For a moment she hesitated, pulling herself together, then beckoned me closer to observe the conversation. She took another moment to compose herself then exhaled and opened a link to Darth Baras.
"I hope your explanation is compelling, apprentice," he declared darkly.
"Pardon me, master, but I believed you might prefer the Willsaam family dead before I reported in," she answered courteously. If she was nervous, uneasy, anything, it didn't show in her words, her tone, her posture.
"So, they are dead, then?" Baras asked, his tone evening out.
Her Lordship padded over to the corpses, adjusting the unit so Baras lost sight of her but had a good look at the corpses of Jaesa Willsaam's parents. "Quite dead, my lord."
"Then it seems my suspicions are unfounded," Baras answered, giving the impression of setting aside whatever punishment he had in hand should it be necessary to employ it.
"Suspicions? Cast by whom? What were you told?" Her Lordship asked, but I thought she rather suspected who the rumormonger was. Her bad mood seemed to evaporate in light of the hope of a Baras-issued reason to destroy the man. After all, if he lied about her to her master—which could have resulted in her death had Baras not been a cautious sort, not prone to rash reactions—it counts as a personal attack. Those are something no Sith can endure without reciprocity at risk of others trying the same tactic.
"Duke Kendoh contacted me with an update on your progress. Unfortunately, these corpses allay only part of my concerns."
Her Lordship returned herself as the focus of her holocom's capture. "Tell me what that maggot said," Her Lordship spat the word as if it was acid. In a fair galaxy it would have burned a hole in the floor wherever it landed.
Baras chuckled to see her ire. He probably assumed the same thing I did: the Duke just lied his way into a coffin. "Firstly that you've been busying yourself with personal exploits and disregarding my mission… though that seems to be false enough."
"And?"
"And that you set an explosion that killed several Thul dignitaries."
"Why would I do something that damages an Imperial ally in that fashion?" Her Lordship demanded.
…no comment…
"That's not what happened? Shouldn't surprise me. Finally, he said you had the general of Organa's army at your mercy and that you spared her—suggesting that you are a traitor."
Her Lordship turned, shoving the holocom so I appeared abruptly in the line of capture. It also served to hide the expression that crossed her face, a homicidal flash that said just how much the accusation of being a traitor incensed her. "Quinn is still alive. How could that woman be also?"
The implication being, of course, that a patriot like me wouldn't just stand for the General being allowed to go about her anti-Empire business. The suggestion of treason seemed to offend her more than the knowledge that the Duke had capitalized on her mission.
"Ah, Quinn."
"My lord." I inclined my head, nerves beginning to tingle unpleasantly.
Baras was silent for a moment, then nodded. "I see. My susceptibility to Duke Kendoh's accusations does seem quite foolish given the weight of evidence."
No Sith would just assume it was idle gossip or slander; all present knew that.
"Apparently the Duke has taken it upon himself to slander you. I have no further use for him. Punish him, if you like. If it were me… he would pay severely," Baras declared silkily.
Her Lordship's smile blossomed across her sweaty face, her already bright eyes glittering. "I'll handle it, my lord," she assured him, that catlike grin lighting her features.
"Enjoy the rest of your time on Alderaan. I shall contact you soon."
"Enjoy my time," Her Lordship growled once Baras severed the call, bristling her dislike of this planet. She huffed a sigh, then seemed to wipe away her anger as well as the perspiration on her face. "Well, Quinn. It seems we have something to look forward to."
Well, she might look forward to killing the Duke.
"Have you any preference in the matter?" she asked solicitously as we strolled out of the castle as though she were the legal owner and not an armed intruder.
"Something quick and ignominious, my lord," I answered blandly. "He's not worth more than the barest minimum of your time, to say nothing of your effort." He truly isn't… and my eyes slid to make sure the bandages around her middle didn't show signs of blood seeping from a reopened wound.
"Still worried about that slash?" she asked as she fingered the bandage, suggesting I hadn't been as subtle as I thought.
Guilty as charged.
"It is my duty to ensure you remain fighting fit."
She paused, as if teetering on telling me something… but then she shook her head with a sigh almost indulgent. "Let's get out of here and I'll let you fuss to your heart's content. Kendoh isn't going anywhere."
Now or ever.
Interlude: Jaesa
The Captain paused in his telling, as if to see how a picture of my parents' deaths affected me. If he'd been concerned he would have skipped over it, but I was glad he didn't. It was good to know my parents hadn't suffered overmuch, that Her Lordship had been merciful to them and that someone other than herself could perceive that mercy.
I nodded for him to continue, casting a few dark thoughts in the direction of Baras and Karr… and then wondering if I should. After all, without their bickering I might never have come under Her Lordship's tutelage. I'd still be out of contact with my parents (almost the same as losing them) and unhappy.
No. I'm grateful to Her Lordship. Karr… and, to be fair, my parents… would have used me. Baras would have killed me. The only one in this whole mess who really cared about me was Her Lordship. For that, I owe her everything.
Alderaan, Part V
"My lord," I frowned. True to her word, she'd gone to the nearest semblance of a medical bay and plopped down in a chair before giving me a teasing look of mock contrition for the carelessness that ended in such an injury. It was rather spoiled by her smirk as humor reasserted itself now that the focus for combat was no longer required.
"Yes, Quinn?" she asked sweetly as I examined the wound.
It was better-healed than it ought to have been, which led me to believe she'd performed some strange physiological manipulation to accelerate the process. I didn't know Sith could do that. Perhaps it's an ability any Force user can learn, something independent of which Order they serve.
"I'm afraid this is going to scar."
"Good."
I blinked at this, then looked up from the healing slash. "Good?" I repeated.
"Yes. It was a good lesson, one I should remember as I advance," she mused.
"Is that why…" The question died, clipped off but not soon enough. The scarring on her body had caught my attention again. With that attention came the desire to trace the white marks with my fingers.
"Curious about my scars, are you?" she asked, with a tone suggesting she would answer if I asked. "I don't blame you. They are rather unsightly." A fact which caused her no concern whatever, to judge by her tone.
I took the bait. "…how did it happen?"
She fingered one of the marks. "A beast on Korriban decided to do a jig on someone who made a fool's mistake. It was some time before I could get it properly treated. Some of the partially closed wounds tore back open. Hence," she added, "why I'm so amenable to letting you have your way with me just now." She grinned at me, orange eyes glittering.
I exhaled sharply as she chuckled.
Having a Sith's attention is an uncomfortable thing. One never really forgets the rumors about their depravity and sadism, their disregard for partners. Her Lordship never struck me as being of that sort, but one never truly forgets… and that, specifically regarding Her Lordship, creates a certain degree of curiosity.
One never forgets that she is Sith, the social elite, beautiful and deadly. I would prefer not to watch her grow bored with me.
Still… it was hard not to smile and I wasn't successful in not doing so. "You're incorrigible, my lord."
"Oh no. Simply persistent."
It was only once I deemed the injury as well-treated as I could manage—and still let it scar, per her ridiculous preference—that I realized she'd been waiting for me to tell her I wasn't interested, that she should back off or give up. That I didn't want to play her game.
In retrospect, it was so obvious… what does it say that it took me so long to figure it out?
Alderaan, Part VI
Her Lordship entered the Duke's office to the same reactions a sudden clap of thunder might produce. She slammed the door open—kicked it open, actually—which made everyone in the room jump. From what I could tell, the Sith had a moment's warning before she actually appeared, for their hands did not jump to weapons nor did weapons jump to hands. Rather, hands already strayed towards weapons strayed away as a sense of anticipation filled the air.
She was, after all, Darth Baras' apprentice and they'd already made it quite clear that crossing her was crossing her master, which was not something they were inclined to do. Not for the Duke anyway, who had gone to no lengths to secure the goodwill of his protectors.
"Duke Kendoh," she snapped, her voice hard and driving. Had it been a physical force it would have slammed him up against a wall and held him there.
"Ah… Lady Sith…" the Duke chuckled nervously.
"Don't sit there whinnying at me like that," she said, pointing one of her unignited lightsabers towards him. The dramatic effect she achieved with such a simple gesture—one she's used more than once—was never amusing, never overly theatrical. It was simply punctuation to her words and seemed entirely natural. "You told Darth Baras I murdered your fellow Thuls, then you accused me of treason." The words sliced like scalpels.
The Sith present gave no indication that these events were news to them.
"Oh… you… you heard about that, did you? How awkward for me…" the Duke seemed to wilt as Her Lordship towered over him, a spire of flame, darkness and deadly promise.
I didn't think for a second I was the only one in the room who appreciated the sight.
"Let-let me explain…" the Duke entreated.
Her Lordship did not answer—which told everyone but the Duke these were his last words and they had no chance of swaying her to mercy—which the Duke, in his folly, took as permission to plead his cause.
"I knew some of my fellows would be caught in the blast… I just took my chance to eliminate them!" He tried to paint it as an emulation of Sith games and failed.
Her Lordship ignited her offhand lightsaber, the hum of it filling the room.
The Duke's eyes fixed on the glowing blade that edged Her Lordship's pale flesh in red tones that seemed to accentuate the paleness the Dark Side had marked her with. "I, ah… had-had company when Darth Baras called and I had to keep my fellow Thuls blind to my maneuvering…." He twirled his finger nonsensically in weak little circles.
"That is a lie," FimmRess snapped, stepping out of place to address Her Lordship. It was hard to tell if his tone held eager savagery or simple excitement. Maybe it was both. "He contacted Darth Baras himself, alone."
Her Lordship cocked her head. "Did he, indeed?"
"The fool didn't think about our being present," FimmRess supplied, indicating himself and his comrades who nodded in affirmation.
"My, my," she purred softly, returning her attention to the Duke, igniting her other lightsaber. "You do seem to be in a spot of trouble, my dear Duke."
The Duke swallowed, his complexion ashen, the wrinkles in his face deepening, the mustache on his lip quivering as sweat began to break out on his skin. His death would be quick and ignominious. The run-up to it, however, would not. This was no towering temper with which she would flatten him. This was something colder, stronger, deeper, a true rage she would plunge into him like a dagger repeatedly before she finally gave in and killed him.
I had to wonder how much was for her benefit and how much was catering to the Sith in the room. As I considered FimmRess' expression, I decided it was a little for her and a lot for them. She was enjoying making the Duke squirm. The Sith certainly enjoyed watching her make the Duke squirm.
"I-I-I…." the Duke chattered, pushing himself back in his chair while glancing sidelong at his Sith, all of whom had eyes for Her Lordship… even if part of that attention was just so they didn't have to look at the Duke. "I only wanted Baras to know I was looking out for him!" the Duke said, an edge of panic in his voice, a flush suffusing his face.
He should know, bawling in front of her Lordship won't help. It will simply disgust her further.
"It was harmless! I knew you would succeed and all Baras would care about was that!" His eyes flicked to her lightsabers as she raised from at-rest to readiness. It was like watching a cobra flare its hood. "Please… please, don't kill me…" Then, without waiting to see if she would respond he twisted in his chair to regard FimmRess, whose attention remained pointedly fixed on Her Lordship. "FimmRess! You are assigned to me! If she attacks you must—"
"I have already told you we will not cross this Sith," FimmRess declared flatly, making a slicing motion with his hand. "If she decides you die… then you're dead."
The words seemed to strike the Duke like blows to the face. A palpable sense of excitement, of eagerness, suffused the air, radiated by the various Sith. Her Lordship was ready for the kill. The Sith watching were eager to see her kill. It was impossible to tell if it was based off her natural appeal or their own distaste for their assignment. Probably both.
I myself have admitted that watching Her Lordship engaged in violence is far more fascinating than it has any right to be. And I'm not Sith.
"Don't worry, friends," Her Lordship purred, "your servitude to this… worm… ends today."
FimmRess' mouth twisted into a lopsided smile. "It will be a relief to be done with this assignment. Do you require any assistance?"
"That's kind of you, but no. Simply watch… and enjoy."
It was quick. The Duke tried to take refuge under his desk—mostly because his muscles failed, leaving him soiled and slack, therefore he slid out of his chair to disappear beneath the heavy article. Her Lordship followed him, resulting in a brief scuffle as the Duke tried to keep the desk between them. She pounced as soon as she could, towering over him, weapons ready to bring death in one quick motion.
The Duke's last words were as pathetic as the rest of his life. "You… were supposed to protect me…" he whimpered, getting to his knees.
She snapped herself around, the spin accelerating the strike and passing the blade through the Duke at an angle that severed him into two halves: his head and one arm, then the rest of him. Her robes flared out around her. As one who has seen her in combat many times, I could tell she'd put a little theatricality into the decapitation.
"The brevity of that display was cruel," FimmRess declared bemusedly.
"But the reek is such that I wouldn't like to keep you in it." She shook her head as one of the other Sith opened a window, letting a draft of cool Alderaanian air into the room.
Conclusion
I sat back in my chair, considering everything the Captain said and everything he had not. When he spoke of FimmRess, I had the distinct sense that he worried—or had at the time. "Did FimmRess call upon Her Lordship after that?" I asked.
The Captain's aura lurched, then smoothed out. "He did."
By which I take it he called upon her and she kept things strictly courteous. He's a funny man, the Captain. He wants her at a distance but at the same time he doesn't want her too far away. Maybe he really is a masochist.
"From what I gather, his master on the Dark Council received quite the favorable report about Her Lordship."
One can never have too many people singing one's praises. "Thank you, Captain, for taking the time to share all this with me."
And for not boiling it down to six words: she came, she saw, she devastated.