Thirteen
Imperial Base, Telos
13 ATC
Following the Imperial victory at the Republic encampment, Quinn found himself back in the command center, looking over the data collected from the various reports on the details of the attack. The Imperial troops had performed capably at a level matching his estimates, which was not bad, but it was clear that the true credit for the decisive victory went to the Wrath.
He'd watched her out there, cutting through the enemy with such grace and finesse that she made it seem effortless—and knowing her abilities as he did, it probably was. She had even managed to scare off the three Jedi; they had not attempted to engage her, instead guarding the survivors' retreat. It was standard Imperial policy to always let a few get away and spread fear with tales of what they had seen.
They'd seen plenty, and so had Quinn. The attack was something that should have already happened. His research suggested that Moff Drayle was not an incompetent commander, but it seemed that the man was becoming increasingly crippled by paranoia. It was a shame, really.
Sometimes the mind is the most difficult enemy to defeat, Quinn reflected.
The thought rang particularly true for himself. Watching A'tro move with the silken lightning assuredness of an apex predator, primal joy burning in her golden eyes as she dominated the battlefield like an ancient Korribani death goddess brought to spectacular life… It had reawakened things within him that he'd thought buried. Sentiments he had believed to have withered away.
He knew it didn't matter what he thought or how he felt, but it was inconvenient. This was going to keep him up at night.
Quinn was so absorbed in his thoughts that it took him a moment to notice that the technicians chattering nearby had fallen silent and were looking in his direction with barely-concealed trepidation. He turned away from the console where he had been viewing the data and found himself face to face with one of the Wrath's Imperial Guard entourage.
"Captain Quinn," the Guard said, her voice crackling through her helmet speaker.
There was something familiar about her voice. Quinn started to feel uneasy.
"The Emperor's Wrath requests your presence in her office here on the base," the Guard continued. "She wishes to hear your analysis of the recent battle."
He recognized her voice now. He'd only heard it a few times in his life, but it surely had to be… "Commander Zariel?" he asked tentatively, using the title he'd last known her to hold.
Arden Zariel inclined her head slightly. "I advise you not to keep the Wrath waiting," she warned.
Quinn saluted her stiffly. "Yes, sir." He turned off the console and walked towards the command center's exit, leaving his mother standing silent and implacable in her faceless red armor.
There had always been two distinct schools of thought in Sith philosophy. The first, considered to be the more traditional approach, taught that the power of the dark side came from intense emotions, particularly rage and hatred. The second, less acknowledged but always present, taught that true strength came not from emotions, but from their absence, for while stars burn brightly for a time, in the end even they must succumb to the empty cold of space.
A'tro had always subscribed to the second doctrine; an avid reader of history, she had noted that the strongest Sith always seemed to be those capable of great cunning and calculation. Naturally, she had wanted to be the strongest Sith she could possibly be, so she had forced herself to learn discipline and control. It had not been easy. She had never been able to make herself feel nothing, but she was able to keep her feelings from controlling her. Or so she'd thought.
Years of ingraining the concept that emotion is weakness deep into her mind led to every instinct she had screaming at her that what she wanted to do now was wrong. It was wrong, and it was foolish, and she would surely suffer consequences if she went through with it.
She ignored her instincts and focused on the small voice that whispered when was the last time you let yourself have something you wanted?
What she wanted was Quinn, of course. It had been a mistake to push him away on Voss, and she had only continued to make error after error in dealing with him since. Removing him from her life only made her want him more. Denying that only made her conflicted, and the Emperor's Wrath couldn't afford to be conflicted.
It wasn't as if the other members of the Dark Council abstained from romantic relationships.
There was, of course, the jurgoran in the room—the fact that Quinn had tried to kill her. But that had been on Baras' orders, and given how A'tro had just clumsily broken off their relationship, she really couldn't blame him for carrying those orders out. She would have done the same thing in his place.
She had never taken the events at the transponder vessel personally. Why would she? It was how Sith lived. In all her deliberations, it was barely even a factor.
Baras was dead, so the likelihood of him sending out any more assassination orders was rather slim. Quinn was a loyal man, and she was reasonably certain he wasn't secretly working for anyone else. She would much rather be with someone who had only once tried to kill her on someone else's orders than with a Sith, who would almost certainly make multiple attempts because it was expected and because they could.
She had made up her mind, finally. She had sent Zariel to fetch Quinn under the pretense of wanting to consult with him about the recent battle.
The desk in the office assigned to her was slightly too high for her to sit on and still keep her feet on the floor, so she settled for leaning against the front of it, gripping the edge so tightly she could feel the metal slowly giving under her fingers.
She would be honest with him. It was all she could do, even if it went against everything she had ever been taught. If there was anything she'd learned from her experiences of the past few years, it was that the Sith, and their teachings, were not infallible.
What is the point of this? the logical part of her mind demanded. You're going to bare your soul to him, and he probably doesn't even want anything to do with you ever again. What is this going to accomplish?
A'tro closed her eyes and breathed in, held it, then exhaled slowly. She repeated the exercise until her heartbeat was steady and her mind was as clear as she could make it, given the circumstances.
Closure, she told herself. If nothing else, this will give me closure.
There was no reason to argue with that.
