Deal Breakers and Queen Makers

By LadyRavena

Epilogue: Bring out the best and the worst you can be

Mitth'ryl was staring at one of the second floor's painting when Parck, with the admiral's long coat slung over one arm, finally found her. Head tilted to our side, hands behind her back, she looked a little like a young slip of a girl at her first prom. The painting was of a female Chiss from ancient mythology, with an avian on one outstretched hand, a sword braced against an ancient hardwood in the other. Parck wasn't sure which myth was being represented, but it was a beautiful piece.

"I've never really been able to understand the choices in hotel artwork," she said, not turning from the piece. "Almost every piece in this hallway contradicts each other and sends completely different subliminal messages to the viewer. There is no theme, obvious or otherwise, no colour scheme is followed, and half of the pieces contradict the one next to it. How very disconcerting."

"Perhaps they were simply picked for the prettiness of each painting by a dozen different designers," Parck suggested, coming to stand next to her.

"A carnival of idiots pick these paintings for hotels and offices."

Parck laughed softly. "It can't be all that bad."

"Oh, really? I distinctly recall one such painting that was originally supposed to be in the Grand Admiral's offices. The entire painting seemed pastoral and benign, until he studied it closer to reveal the artist's desire for mass genocide."

Parck went to speak, paused and frowned. "That farm scene? Mass genocide?"

She nodded. "Didn't you wonder why the riverbed was littered with small teeth and pieces of bone? Tradition pieces of bounty hunters from that culture."

Parck shuddered, and then shook his head, dismissing the thoughts. "I brought the final reports on the engagement with Tha'newlis's fleet. You'll also be pleased to know that our security forces caught Lord Tha'newlis before he even boarded his private yacht."

"Damages?"

Voss shook his head. "Minimal. We lost one clawcraft, but the pilot ejected in time, and was collected without harm. Shields took the rest of the volleys."

"Excellent," she said, turning from the painting and finally facing him.

One look at her face brought a frown to Voss's. "You look exhausted," he said, holding up the admiral's coat.

"Why, thank you. What a kind thing to point out," she groused, allowing the heavy coat to land on her shoulders. "It amazes me to this day that you aren't plagued by women beating down your door for such beautiful words."

Parck rolled his eyes. "I meant that--"

She raised a hand and started walking toward the large staircase. "I know, Voss," she said a bit more warmly. "It has simply been a very long day." After a moment, he joined her, shortening his strides to match her dress-hampered ones. "The full briefing will be tomorrow as planned, I trust?"

"I see no reason to change that. A sketch briefing on the way back to base will do for tonight."

She nodded, taking extra care on the thick carpeting on the stairs. "I trust all of our operatives returned safely?"

"All accounted for," Voss confirmed, glancing once at the datapad. "Eri'dantae is waiting for you at the shuttle outside, and our waiters have 'gone home' and subsequently been picked up."

Clearing the carpeted stairwell, she felt balanced enough to stretch her legs out. The grand entrance hall was empty save for two actual hotel guards, standing tall on either side of the doors. Nodding good evening to both, the pair walked through the doors and into the night air.

Two massive Lambda-class shuttles stood awash in light from the under lights, both of which had the boarding ramps down. Stormtroopers from the 501st legion stood guard over the far shuttle, where several of the higher-level guests were being escorted inside, cuffed and angry. Another trooper stepped forward, no doubt to escort her and Parck to their own shuttle.

"The last of the prisoners is being loaded now, Admiral. We will be leaving shortly."

"Very good, trooper," she murmured, eyes focused on the last prisoner who was surrounded by four of her finest troops.

Lord Tha'newlis, haughty even in captivity, strode toward the shuttle, eyes roaming the grounds in distain… until they reached her. His eyes took in the lack of guard, or bindings, and the presence of the admiral's coat, and reached the most logical, correct conclusion. Mitth'ryl felt her spine stiffening, straightening her form into military precision, her chin rising. His eyes flashed at her, and uncharacteristic emotion shone on his face, highlighted by the stark light of the shuttles. Anger at being played, betrayal of one that he planned to trust, disgust that he would allow a pretty face to turn his head, and half a dozen other emotions that she couldn't hope to identify at this distance took their turns. Finally, though, an unexpected expression settled on his face. With a dip of his head, his face twisted into an ironic smile, he spoke one sentence before being escorted into the shuttle. Even across the landing area, she could read what he had said:

"Already a Queen."

She smiled to herself as she stepped into her own shuttle. "Pilot," she said, settling down in her seat, "take us up."

The End.

Thank you all for reading, and reviews are always welcome.

Questions are answered as promptly as possible.