Eight

Imperial Base, Telos

13 ATC

Moff Drayle had assembled a delegation on the main landing pad to greet the Wrath when she arrived, as was appropriate, but the longer they waited the more Quinn wished he'd had some feasible excuse to opt out of it. Nervous anticipation writhed nauseatingly in his gut, and the more he tried to suppress it, the more it tightened its coils.

He showed none of this outwardly, of course. Every Imperial officer was trained to maintain proper decorum at all times, even—or perhaps, given the military's relationship with the Sith, especially—when being eaten alive by fear. He was not afraid, not exactly, but he could not deny a degree of uneasiness as he speculated about the Wrath's motives.

Why would she come to Telos? Merrik could be a smooth talker, but Quinn doubted even she had the rhetorical prowess to convince the Wrath to go to a place where she surely knew he was. She had wanted him gone badly enough to transfer him far away from her, but now here she was, about to willingly put herself in contact with him again. It didn't make sense.

Perhaps she intended to kill him. It would be the Sith thing to do, and given how he had wronged her, not unreasonable. She had let him live then, but perhaps she had decided that his time had run out.

If that proved to be the case, Quinn would offer no resistance. What would be the point? He only hoped she wouldn't make a spectacle of it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the thunder of engines as a Fury-class starship broke through the low-hanging clouds and settled on the pad in a near-perfect vertical landing. Though largely indistinguishable from any other ship of its class, the slight wobble the vessel made as it touched down was distinctive, stemming from a minor fault in the port engine's wiring. The only way to prevent the wobble was to recalibrate the power couplings after every flight, a task to which Quinn had, in better times, devoted many hours.

It was the Alecto, there was no doubt about it. Whoever had landed it had done a very good job, which made him wonder. The Wrath was a gifted Sith, but she was a terrible pilot. Someone else had to be flying the ship. Someone who had replaced him.

A brief pang of regret went through him as he stood at attention. Moff Drayle walked down the short line of people, making sure everyone was in order, before settling himself at the head of the group. Merrik, standing close to the Moff, radiated smugness, and for a moment Quinn disliked her a great deal. But he couldn't hold her at fault for somehow bringing the Wrath there; she was only following orders.

Just like he had.

The Alecto's boarding ramp lowered to the floor. Quinn held his breath. A moment later, she came marching out of the ship.


A'tro stalked down the ramp with Janeth and Zariel trailing behind her. Moff Drayle had assembled an entourage to greet her, as was proper. It was a smaller group than she would have expected, given her rank. An indication of personnel stretched thin, perhaps?

She scanned the faces, keeping her own expression grimly blank. Drayle stood in front in a white uniform; she skipped him over after a cursory glance. Merrik was standing not far behind him. She must have gotten a flight back immediately after speaking to A'tro.

And then there was Quinn. A'tro didn't particularly want to look at him, but she found herself doing it anyway. He looked much the same as he always did: straight-backed and stone-faced, looking like something out of a propaganda poster in his well-fitting black and gray. He was not looking at her.

A'tro reached Drayle, and was forced to pay attention as he launched into a greeting.

"My lord, welcome to Telos. We are humbled by your presence," Drayle said, bowing deeply. "It would be our utmost honor to fight alongside your illustrious self."

The constant flattery that came with high rank was starting to make her nauseous. "I look forward to aiding this campaign," she said. "We will lay waste to the Republic."

"Yes, my lord." Drayle gestured to the rest of the welcoming party. "My command staff and myself are at your disposal. Would you care for a tour of the base?"

A'tro suspected that the base was much like any other, but one had to maintain the formalities. "I would indeed."

"Very good, my lord. My apologies for not being able to escort you personally; I must return to the command center at once." Drayle turned towards the assembled personnel. "Quinn, show the Wrath our facilities."

A'tro had never believed in the Sith right to summarily execute anyone on a whim, but she suddenly understand why they might want to.

"Merrik, Lyn," Drayle continued, "I'll need you both in the command center. The rest of you, back to your posts." He turned back towards A'tro, oblivious to how close she was to snapping his neck with a thought. "My lord Wrath, it is an honor to have you. I promise my men and I will not disappoint." With another short, formal bow, he turned and left the landing platform.

The small group dispersed, leaving A'tro, her two silent guards, and Quinn.

"Captain," A'tro said, the word rasping through her suddenly dry throat.

"My lord," Quinn said quietly. He made eye contact for the briefest of instants, then broke it with a bow.

Was he nervous? She hoped he was nervous.

Quinn straightened and took a breath. "My lord, welcome to Telos. If you would follow me, I will bring you up to speed on the nature of our fortifications."

Now he sounded like himself, all clipped formality. A'tro supposed it would have been too much to expect for him to give any kind of discernible reaction to her arrival. She briefly prodded at his presence in the Force, but found nothing that she could interpret.

"Let's get on with this, shall we?" she said briskly. Continuing to stand there would accomplish nothing, and she didn't want Janeth and Zariel to figure out anything close to the truth of the situation. Her history with Quinn was none of their business.

Quinn inclined his head acquiescently and started walking. A'tro followed, feeling unsettled.

The tour proved to be entirely unnecessary, as the base was constructed from prefabricated units arranged in the standard configuration of optimal defensive capabilities calculated by the Ministry of Logistics. It was smaller than A'tro would have expected, given that it was the launching point of an entire planetary invasion. She had a feeling Drayle had fewer resources to work with, and was faring far worse, than either he or Merrik had let on.

She let Quinn talk, giving an occasional affirmative monosyllable as he glibly rattled off the functions of each part of the base. She hoped that Janeth and Zariel were paying attention, because if there was anything important in Quinn's explanation, she was missing it. She was much too busy trying to act normal to actually focus on his words, instead letting it all fade into a steady background hum that was surprisingly soothing.

I always enjoyed listening to him talk. That was a treacherous line of thought to follow. A'tro forced her attention back to the present as Quinn finally stopped walking outside a door set on a narrow hallway that was out of the way of the main traffic area.

"This is an office space that has been made available to you for whatever business you may wish to conduct, my lord," Quinn said. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "If there is nothing else you require of me, I will return to my duties."

A'tro nodded. "That will be all. Dismissed."

Quinn bowed and walked away quickly.

A'tro looked to Janeth and Zariel. "Are you capable of performing a security sweep of this room?"

"Certainly, my lord," Zariel said.

"Good. Do so. I'm going back to the ship." A'tro turned sharply and walked away in the opposite direction from where Quinn had gone. I need time to think.