Chapter 11

Quinn was sitting on the bridge, running a routine scan of the Imperial holo frequencies while the Fury sat docked in Corellia's Imperial controlled spaceport. They were on Corellia to enlist and protect a Dark Council member named Darth Vowrawn, who would be a strong ally in their fight against Baras. Morda had already tracked down and defeated two would-be assassins sent by Baras to take out Vowrawn before he could lend his considerable clout to Morda's cause. Baras's network of spies was extensive and well concealed - as well Quinn should know. Discrediting Baras's bid to become the Voice of the Emperor started with undermining his vast power base.

A light blinked on the console before him, accompanied by a quiet chime, signaling that the airlock had been disengaged. That would be Vette returning from her latest mission. Quinn paid it little mind. A few minutes later, the door to the bridge slid open and Vette hurried in.

"Captain Quinn." Her voice was hushed and urgent. When Quinn looked up he saw that Vette was clearly upset. She dimmed the lights on the bridge and leaned forward, peering out the window into the spaceport.

"Someone followed me," she said. "Do you see him out there?"

"Who? Some spaceport ruffian?"

"No," Vette said. "I think it was a Sith. Seriously creepy guy. Well, more so than a regular Sith I mean."

Quinn squinted into the empty recesses of the spaceport, trying to pierce through the gloom. He saw nothing.

"I don't-"

"There!" Vette hissed. "See? See him now? By that barrel! It moved! Did you see it? Did you?"

Quinn stared at the spot where Vette was pointing but still saw nothing. Then the faintest flicker passed across a shadowed corner. Had he imagined it? They both watched the spot outside the ship for many long moments.

"It's gone now," Quinn said. "I'll put it in my nightly re-"

There was a loud bang as a hulking shape leapt onto the front of the ship and hurled itself at the window. Quinn caught the briefest glimpse of glowing red eyes inside a cowl and then a fist came down upon the glass, followed by a thunderous blast of what could only be Force power. Cracks spiraled outward across the bridge's viewport.

Quinn stumbled backwards out of his chair. Vette let out a loud swear.

"He can't…he can't break that glass can he?" she cried.

"It's designed to handle the pressure of space travel. No one can break that!" The cracks clearly said otherwise though. Quinn began tapping out a distress signal to the local authorities but was halted by another blast rocking the ship. The cracks spread wider.

"He's a madman!" Quinn couldn't believe what he was seeing. Surely this Sith wasn't capable of breaking onto the bridge? Morda was out meeting with a General, and Pierce and Broonmark were out on missions. Quinn went to send a message alerting Morda of the attack, but the Sith struck again and this time the glass made a loud crackling noise.

"Get out! Get off the bridge!" Vette shrieked.

"Protect Vowrawn!" Quinn called. "I'm going to lock everything down." The elderly Darth was their primary concern and had to be kept alive at all costs. No doubt that was who the assassin was after. Quinn began inputting the codes to bring all the controls off line and under password authorization. Would the Sith try to hijack the ship? Sabotage it somehow? Was he just trying to get onboard by bypassing the main entry? Quinn initiated a full emergency lockdown of the bridge, which would close the secondary, heavy blast-proof door and seal off the whole area within ten seconds. Quinn hit the switch and got ready to run.

At that moment, the glass shattered under the Sith's final blow, and the viewport broke into a spray of tiny edgeless beads, a safety precaution that all Imperial battle class ships had been designed with. The glass gave way like a wave crashing onto the deck of a boat, pelting Quinn like rain and scattering the beads across the floor in an encroaching tide. The buzz of the Sith's lightsaber cut through the tinkle of falling glass and Quinn threw himself in the direction of the door just as the thud of the Sith's boots hit the floor.

The glass beads weren't perfectly round, but they still caused Quinn's feet to slide out from under him as he ran. One moment the doorway was looming closer, and in the next he was hitting the floor, with the threshold just out of reach. He scurried across the ground like a desperate animal, using hands, knees, feet - grasping for purchase anyway he could. Above, the heavy metal door was beginning its steady descent towards the floor. Quinn's every nerve tingled in anticipation of when he would feel the sting of the Sith's lightsaber biting into his flesh. There was no time to reach for his blaster; he hoped instead that the assassin was struggling over the cascade of glass just as he had, with no time to aim a severing strike.

In the room outside, Vette was escorting Darth Vowrawn towards the ship's exit. She looked in Quinn's direction, her eyes wide.

"Quinn!"

Quinn threw himself across the door's threshold, trying to scramble his way to the other side.

I'm not going to make it, he thought, I'm going to be crushed.

Vette was running towards him and Vowrawn's hands were sparking with flashes of light. Vette slid to the ground and reached for Quinn. Her fingertips grazed his but then she abruptly pulled back and let out a scream.

Quinn felt a terrible weight crash into him, slamming hard in a line across his lower back, pinning him to the floor. The pressure was intense, driving all the air from his lungs. Please let it be quick, he thought. He was being ground into the floor, the pain increasing and quickly becoming a white hot band across his middle. Then the closing mechanism abruptly disengaged. In the brief quiet that followed, Quinn heard the hum of a lightsaber from behind him, along with a terrible, chilling laugh. If the door doesn't cut me in half, he thought, that Sith will. Quinn braced himself for the inevitable.

From back on the bridge Quinn heard the sound of another lightsaber being drawn, followed by Jaesa's voice.

"I will enjoy spilling your blood."

Jaesa must have crept up on the assassin from behind, getting onto the bridge from the outside, just as the assassin had. Quinn had never been more thankful for her timely arrival.

Quinn blinked and saw Darth Vowrawn's boots in front of his face. He craned his neck upwards and saw the Darth with his hands raised and a look of concentration on his face. There was a rumble and the weight of the door eased as it was made to rise, the motor squealing as it rode backwards against its normal momentum. Vette stood and fired a few shots into the gap while Quinn pulled himself, painfully and oh so slowly across the floor. He pulled the rest of his body across the threshold, and Vowrawn dropped his hands. The door crashed shut behind him.

"Thank you," Quinn breathed. "Get...get out now. To the spaceport guard station. I'll meet you...there."

Vette looked at him doubtfully, but then nodded, leading Vowrawn off the ship. Quinn started to get to his feet but was met with a stabbing pain across his back. He tried to take a deep breath but that too brought on another bout of pain. He settled for taking a few shallow breaths and tried again. This time he was able to stand but not without considerable effort. He was alive at least, and there would be time later to run a proper assessment of his injuries.

Pulling his comm unit out caused an uncontrollable throbbing to begin in earnest, but Quinn ignored it and punched in the frequency for the spaceport guard station. He got some ruddy-faced kid on the holo who hesitated when he heard that the attacker was a Sith.

"I'm...I'm just a private, sir! I can't authorize troops like that!"

"Just get your guard down here or you'll have another angry Sith to contend with, and I'll file a reprimand with your superiors on top of that." Quinn closed the connection and gasped for air, feeling hot and dizzy. The sounds of a lightsaber battle still raged from beyond the door. If Jaesa were cut down, he'd be next unless he got off this ship now.

There was one last thing he needed to do. The ship had an alarm that was triggered to sound under various emergencies. Normally, a breach in the hull would be one such reason, but with the ship grounded, it had not gone off. The alarm was loud and would call attention to their plight as well as send an automatic report to the nearest Imperial space station. According to Imperial Military code 2654 they were required to respond and send help. Hopefully there would be someone competent there to receive the transmission. Quinn limped his way down the hallway to the engine room, where the manual override for the ship's alarm was located.

The blare of the alarm made Quinn cringe, jolting his back muscles into more painful spasms. He hurried through the corridors which were drenched now in a sinister red light. He left the ship and its infernal screeching and encountered Jaesa outside. She was breathing hard, her eyes ablaze.

"The cretin ran when he heard the alarm and saw the guard troops coming. I never got a good look at his face."

Across the hangar Quinn could see a small contingent of Imperial guards headed their way. Quinn waited for them to approach, conspicuously aware of a sticky wetness that was forming along his right side. He directed the troops to search the premises and the entire ship just in case, but he suspected that what Jaesa said was true and that the assassin had gotten away. He could already picture what a sorry report this whole incident would make.

Making it to the guard station was one of the longest walks of his life. His body felt hot and shaky. He ran a hand through his hair, hoping his discomfort wouldn't be noticeable. Darth Vowrawn had a holocomm in his hand, the image currently blinking static. He looked up as Quinn entered, wide-eyed and in jubilant spirits.

"Well, that sure was exciting now, wasn't it?"

Vette came and stood next to Quinn. She leaned into his ear and muttered, "That man is entirely too cheerful."

"Ah, here we are!" Vowrawn exclaimed. The holo blinked and Morda appeared. Quinn barely listened as Vowrawn reported the situation. The lights in the room were hazy and dim. Had they always been like that? There was a distracting rushing in his ears. He tried to ignore it. His name was mentioned and he was pulled out of his daze.

"...must be commended! He acted with courage and showed no mortal concern." Vowrawn was nodding at Quinn. Vette nudged him and he stepped forward.

"I'm...I'm making up for a past indiscretion. My commitment to my lord is unassailable now."

"Well now!" Vowrawn declared. "Such dedication!"

Quinn didn't hear the rest. He excused himself and went back to the ship. A few minutes ago his skin had felt like the burning sands of Tatooine, but now the dark hallways of the ship felt chilly. He stumbled into the medbay and began to ready a surgical probe. His side was soaked with blood and he peeled away his uniform with care, dreading what he might see underneath. The damage wasn't as severe as he had feared, but the gash was ragged and would need stitching. He set up the probe and crawled onto the nearest cot to close his eyes while it worked. His whole back throbbed to the beat of his heart. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day.

00o00

Morda slogged down the hallway of the Fury towards the promise of a comfortable bed. Droids had been installing a new viewport window on the ship all day and it had been hard to hear herself think with all the racket their repairs caused. It was not safe to keep Darth Vowrawn on the ship any longer. She had made arrangements for lodging at the old Corelllian legislature building, which had been taken over by Imperial Command, but rooms wouldn't be ready for them until tomorrow.

Morda had gotten as far as her bedroom door when she remembered that she had given Darth Vowrawn her room for the duration of his stay. She would have to sleep in Quinn's old bunk in the crew quarters. At least she was tired enough that even one of those miserable beds would probably feel like paradise. She turned and started to move away from the door when she felt it from across the hall; a pain so sharp and encompassing that it smothered her like a blanket. It was coming from the medbay where Quinn slept. She pressed herself to the door and reached out with Force power. Mental anguish or physical? Should she leave him be? Then she heard the sound of glass shattering. She threw out a blast of Force power and wrenched the door open.

Quinn was hunched over his desk, standing with his back to her. For a moment, she almost didn't recognize what she was seeing. Quinn was shirtless, but his entire lower back was so discolored with a sickening black bruise that his skin looked more like that of a dead man's. Wrapped around his waist was a bandage, part of which was soaked through with blood. He appeared to be barely holding himself up, his arms shaking as he pushed clumsily through a pile of medicines that had fallen from the cabinet above and scattered across the surface of the desk. A few had rolled off and shattered on the floor, leaving behind a sticky puddle that was slowly creeping around his feet.

"Damn it Quinn! Why didn't you tell me you'd been injured like this?" Morda raced into the room and learned over the desk to peer into his face. His skin was pale and slick with sweat, and when his blue eyes belatedly rose to meet with hers, Morda saw they were glazed with pain.

"I am…" Speaking seemed to cause him even more pain and he grimaced and struggled for breath. "…behind on the painkillers."

"No," Morda said. "What you need is a kolto tank." Was Quinn coherent enough to help her work this thing? She spun the dial and set the tank's levels, hoping the base setting would be enough. She wasn't sure how to activate the more advanced features. When she turned back, she saw Quinn fumbling with one of the vials, trying to fill a syringe. He stuck it into his thigh and closed his eyes.

Morda began rummaging through the cabinets looking for the breathing mask for the tank. She was clearly making a mess, but Quinn's silence at her destruction of his carefully organized space prickled her nerves even more.

"I'm putting you in this tank."

Quinn didn't protest. He began to pick at the bandage around his middle, tugging on it and trying to unwrap it. Morda took over, trying to be gentle as she lifted the cloth to reveal an angry-looking wound that had been stitched closed. The bandage stuck a little, and even though she peeled it away as carefully as she could, Quinn made a gut-wrenching noise and shuddered.

"I'm going…going to be…get the bucket." He began retching. Morda jumped and began knocking things around.

"Where is it? Damn it, where is the kriffin' thing?" By the Force, I'd make a terrible nurse, she thought.

She found it and thrust it onto the desk underneath Quinn's chin. He clutched at the bucket and heaved a few more times, but nothing came out. A bead of sweat was dripping down his temple and Morda noticed that his hands shook when he finally pushed away the bucket.

"Tank…" he said hoarsely.

Morda put her arm around him and guided him away from the desk. He weaved alarmingly on his feet, and Morda stumbled back against a nearby chair when she tried to hold him up. She used Force power to augment her strength to get him the rest of the way to the tank. She flung open the door and propped him against it. His head was lolling strangely and she feared that he was losing consciousness.

"Quinn…" She cupped the back of his head and tilted his face towards hers. "Stay with me. I didn't spare you so you could become a martyr. You hear me?"

"Yes, my lord." His voice was barely a whisper. "Looks worse than it is…Just…just didn't expect the pain."

"Ok then." She fitted the mask over his face and hooked it up. He stepped in and immediately slumped to the floor. Morda shut the door and watched as the tank filled, slowly lifting Quinn from the bottom of the tank and buoying him until he floated serenely among the blue liquid. She climbed onto the cot that he used as a bed and laid down, but she couldn't stop herself from cracking open an eye every now and then to check on him.

I don't want to lose him. Morda regretted how much she had taken Quinn for granted. She had relied on him to always be there, to make sure things ran smoothly, to be the responsible one. There were times when she had sought comfort from him, reaching for his hand, just assuming that it would be given. He had waited for her to return when she had left the crew to have Mordius, faithfully looking after her ship and the other crew members. He had been selfless to the end.

He gives and gives and gives, expecting nothing in return, Morda thought. I'd like to change that.

00o00

Quinn rose slowly from sleep, gradually becoming aware that he was not laying in his own bed. This bed was cushioned and far softer than the cot he used in the medbay, and the covers were warm and heavy. At first, he noted this with curiosity, but that soon turned to alarm as his consciousness grew. He cracked open his eyes.

He was in Morda's room and that meant that he was also in Morda's bed. Memories returned to him, fuzzy and halting. Pain, Morda's arms around him as she led him across the room, the Kolto tank. He wiggled his limbs experimentally. His muscles were sore and a bit shaky, but he felt whole. He hoisted himself into a sitting position, seeing that he was alone. How many days had he lost in the Kolto tank? He needed to get back on duty as soon as possible.

He rose on unsteady legs and discovered that he was dressed in nothing but a pair of undershorts. Dry undershorts, he noted. Someone had changed him out of his wet clothes after removing him from the tank. The thought of him naked, vulnerable, and under someone else's care made him nervous. Who had taken care of him while he was unconscious?

A spare uniform waited for him at the foot of the bed, folded neatly. Once clothed, he felt a little more like himself. He was just fastening the last cuff when he heard the droid's voice on the other side of the door.

"Captain Quinn?"

The door slid open before he could reply, and the droid stepped in.

"Oh, splendid!" it exclaimed. "You are awake. The Master bid me to keep an eye on you. She asked that you go directly to your quarters once you awoke."

"Who left these clothes?" Quinn asked.

"Oh! I took care of everything. I took you out of the tank, redressed you, and left you a clean uniform, all as the Master directed. She wanted you to be undisturbed while you were recovering."

Quinn nodded to the droid and made his way to the med bay, relieved that Morda had shown him the courtesy of keeping his privacy and dignity intact. It was apparent that the droid had cleaned most of the mess that had been left behind in the med bay as well. The floor was clean, the broken vials had been swept, and most of the medicines had been returned to their cabinets. Quinn turned slowly, looking things over. His holopad was blinking by his bed.

Morda had left him a message. Her tiny image flickered in his hand, but even at that size he could see that her look was stern.

"Captain, from now on I expect you to own up to your injuries and attend to them." Quinn automatically straightened his posture without thinking, even though she couldn't see him. Was she angry with him? He'd no doubt lost a lot of time recovering and perhaps he had set them back on their plans. Morda's next comment took him by surprise. Her forehead creased and she leaned forward slightly as if she was about to impart something very important.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, Quinn. I would be...I..." She trailed off, her miniature face pained with worry. "I value you more than you know."

Quinn stared at the image, unexpectedly moved by her declaration. It was only the briefest pause, but the silence that followed felt significant. She had not spoken of his service, she had said that she valued him. Was he reading too much into her choice of words?

"Take the rest of the day off," she continued. "That's an order. And check your desk. I left you something to occupy your time while you are recovering. I expect to see you back on the bridge tomorrow morning." The message ended.

Quinn turned and spotted a small package sitting on his desk, wrapped in plain paper. It was shaped oddly, too oddly to be a stack of reports to file. And she wouldn't have wrapped a new shipment of med supplies like this. The paper fell away and Quinn held the object in his palm, too stunned for a moment to understand.

It was the miniature soldier figurine that he had pulled from the wreckage of the toy shop. She must have taken it when he wasn't looking and saved it for him. There was more. With it was a new set of paints, and not just any kind of paints. It was the correct kind for detailing such miniatures, and included natural tones as well as a few brighter colors. He set the soldier on the desk and slowly sat down. This was a very personal gift and one which she had obviously taken care to research. He tried to imagine her, a Sith lord, walking into a hobby shop and conversing with the merchants there, asking the right questions, being led to the right merchandise. Never had one of his superiors done anything like this. Indeed, it was not the kind of thing that a superior did for a subordinate at all. Quinn smiled. How much time did he have until bedtime? Maybe he could do just a little painting on it now.