Chapter 4

Morda was practicing combat forms in the cargo area of the ship when Quinn appeared.

"My lord…" His voice was pitched cautiously. Morda recognized the tone as one he used when he was about to disagree with her over something, or when he was worried. She stopped and grabbed a towel to wipe her forehead.

"What is it, Captain?" She knew she sounded a bit cross, but it couldn't be helped. Many force-blinds were afraid to express differing opinions around the Sith, and that was understandable, she supposed. However, she would much rather those who served her spoke their minds and were plain about it. It wasn't her job to decipher nuances and subtext when all that could be easily avoided if people just said what they really meant. Worse yet was when she suspected that underlings were trying to manipulate her with insincere flattery. And she couldn't tolerate whining. In this case, she suspected that Quinn was about to make a complaint, perhaps about Vette again.

"I request a reassignment." Quinn stood now with his hands clasped behind his back and a look of determination on his face. It was not like him to act hastily, so he obviously had thought this through. It came as an utter surprise to Morda, however.

"Why ever in the galaxy would I want that?" This was highly inconvenient. Now she would be without a pilot and field medic again. "Is this about that kiss the other night?"

Quinn colored slightly. "It…well, that and other things, yes. My lord, I am compromised. I cannot, for your sake or the sake of the crew, stay on any longer."

Morda stared at him. He looked genuinely distressed. Causing him anguish had never been the intention when she had decided to pursue him. Luring him out, freeing him from his own stubbornness, it was a valuable goal, but the game was no fun now. Perhaps the stakes were higher than she had realized. Now she would lose a valued crew member over this. She frowned, then quickly tried to hide her disappointment.

"If that is what you really want, Quinn, I will grant it."

He looked relieved. "Thank you, my lord. I will write up the paperwork right away and present it to you tomorrow."

Morda nodded. She couldn't think of anything else to say. Quinn gave her a crisp bow and retreated.

00o00

Everything was going wrong. Taris was a dreary planet, where mournful birds cried from the treetops, and pools of toxic waste had replaced what had once been lakes. Morda stepped in an outrageously deep puddle and now her foot was slimy and cold with muck. She had four war generals to track down and kill, and some annoying Sith apprentice kept butting into her business, with pathetic attempts to compete with her, ruining her objectives. Quinn was leaving her…wait, had she actually been dumped? She stomped down the muddy pathway. She hated this place. What was that smell?

She stopped abruptly, just as she was about to stumble into another puddle. Vette smacked into her from behind.

"Watch where you're going!" Morda spun around, scowling at Vette. "You have eyes on the front of your head, don't you?"

"Touchy, touchy. Who put the flutterplume up your butt?"

Vette had quite the mouth on her, for a slave. Morda wondered sometimes if she was a bit too lenient, and was about to reprimand the girl, but then a laugh burst out of her instead. "A what up my butt?"

Vette grinned. "See? You're in a better mood already."

Morda muttered, "Like one of those would fit..." and started down the path again towards the barracks.

Baras had instructed Morda to meet with a Moff Hurden, and once inside the building she found him standing in the command center doling out orders. She had him fill her in on all the latest intel available on the generals she needed to eliminate. Then the moff called over one of the soldiers under his command to meet with her.

Lieutenant Pierce was broad shouldered and massive, his bulk easily towering over both her and the moff. Morda could tell that he was no green recruit. He struck her as confident, maybe even cocky, but Morda had no doubt that he had earned the right to brag. A map of scars criss-crossed one side of his face, and he wore his armor like he had been born in it. He was neither fawning nor timid in her presence, like many soldiers so often were, and he nodded to her in the way of one warrior to another. Morda decided that she liked him immediately.

She found his speech to be blunt and sparing, and he occasionally dropped some colorful slang into his descriptions. When she pressed him for details on the mission at hand, he responded readily, and with suggestions that clearly showed that he knew the realities of battle planning. The moff left them alone with a word to Pierce on how he should accommodate her with whatever she needed.

"So, Pierce," Morda said, looking him in the eye, "are you ready to accommodate me?" She smiled. "It can be very rewarding."

"Sounds good," he said. He eyes scanned over her unflinchingly and with obvious interest.

"Wonderful. I look forward to working with you." Morda turned just in time to catch Vette rolling her eyes, but it barely seemed worth noting. Maybe today would be salvageable after all.

When Morda got back to the ship, Quinn was waiting for her. He was collected and formal as always, but his undercurrent of nervous energy was more noticeable now in contrast to Lieutenant Pierce's calm assuredness. Morda had almost forgotten that she needed to give official authorization to Quinn's transfer request. It put a pall over her mood.

"Hand it over," she said.

"My lord," Quinn began, "I have had a change of thought. I was hasty in my judgment yesterday and I believe that my taking service elsewhere now would be a mistake. I would like to stay in your service, if you will allow it."

Morda looked him over, trying to assess his state of mind. She couldn't decipher what had brought on this sudden reversal. "What's going on, Quinn?"

"I feel that both our interests are better served by us continuing to work together."

Ah, Morda thought. So that was it. "I'm good for your career, am I?"

Quinn blushed and looked away quickly. "You have given me opportunities I would not have gotten elsewhere, it is true. I'd be an idiot to throw that away. But moreover, my lord, there is no reason for me to deny you my service. I can better serve you, and the Empire, here under your charge."

"Well, whatever your reasons, I'd be glad to see you stay."

Quinn's shoulders noticeably relaxed. "Thank you, my lord." He paused. "Although, there is one thing I would like to add, if I may be so bold."

"Yes?"

"I must request that our relationship remain at a professional level. It-"

"Fine," Morda said. She waved a hand to stop him from elaborating further.

"Well…that's…that's settled then. I appreciate your understanding."

Quinn left the room and Morda stared at the open doorway for a moment longer. She was glad, most certainly so, to have him back. So maybe he wasn't turning out to be beddable material. But she had other options, didn't she? She imagined Pierce's oversized, calloused hands roving over her body and smiled. Yes, she had other options.

00o00

Things had most definitely changed between him and Morda. Quinn was surprised, somewhat relieved, and strangely disappointed. He was ashamed of the last part. Surely he had more pride than to go seeking after the lascivious attentions of an overly bold Sith. Having relations with a mission partner was always a bad idea and nothing good ever came of it. He had seen the havoc such things caused too many times to count, and took pride in keeping to a higher standard of discipline. It was preferable to draw a sharp dividing line between work relationships and personal ones.

Many soldiers dealt with this problem by satisfying their physical needs separately. This was, he assumed, what Morda was after. He'd been told often enough that he was attractive, even taken less seriously because of it on occasion. He was a plaything to Morda, he reminded himself, and nothing more, sure to be discarded as soon as she had had her fill. In fact, isn't that exactly what had happened already?

Quinn rarely indulged in casual sexual encounters. He was aware that his fellow officers shared humor at his expense over this, sometimes questioning his prowess or skill. But there was something they didn't understand. It took diligence to know and to adhere to one's personal limits, and Quinn knew his. He gave his all to every task he took on, and he doubted he was even capable of being satisfied with any lesser effort. Things that held little interest to him barely registered as worth his time or thought, yet the opposite was true when he found something that captured his attention. His thoroughness (so he'd been told) sometimes bordered on obsession, and he dedicated himself, heart and body and mind, to whatever it was that he had chosen as his focus. Likewise, he had found relationships to be a terrible burden. How could he share such intimacies of the body without his heart following soon after? He'd pined after a fellow soldier once already, and her eventual rejection had devastated him, consuming his thoughts for months afterward. He had relived every torturous moment, trying to analyze where things went wrong, and had admonished himself over his faults or misjudgments. Those were the mistakes of the young and inexperienced. He knew better now.

He needed to focus single-mindedly on the task at hand and not let his mind wander to such unproductive thoughts of Morda. He had plenty of work to keep him occupied, and that could be its own source of comfort.

Work did not prove to be the escape that he had anticipated. Moff Hurden had assigned a soldier to assist Morda while on Taris, but this Lieutenant Pierce was difficult to work with, lacking in forethought or refinement of any kind. He was a brute of a man, the kind that was good for front line fodder and little else, but Morda had taken a shine to him, inexplicably. Pierce preferred to blunder headlong into battle, ignoring or even disparaging Quinn's well thought-out advice, and Morda seemed to be following his lead. Worse yet, Pierce showed a complete disregard for rules and proper procedures. Quinn was left to cover up his indiscretions after the fact, and had once even been forced to provide false information on a report in order to not cause suspicion. It grated on him, yet Morda was either oblivious or condoning, so he had no recourse but to hold his tongue.

They were nearing the end of their mission on Taris. Lord Morda had plans to assault the bunker of General Faraire, yet he was more heavily guarded than any enemy they'd yet faced, and careful coordination of their efforts would be needed to break through the defenses protecting him. Quinn had considered the strengths of every member in their party, and had drawn up customized battle plans for each of them. They would need to simultaneously attack the base's power station, spaceport, and the army surrounding the base in order to reach the General. Quinn stayed up late preparing a report detailing each critical juncture of the plan and presented it at a meeting the following morning. Jaesa would travel with Morda, taking on the troops guarding the General, while Pierce would block access into and out of the nearby spaceport, and Vette would rig explosives around the base's power station. He would stay back at the Imperial base to be a liaison between them.

Pierce interjected before he'd even gotten to the end of the report.

"I have the most experience infiltrating such highly guarded targets, m'lord. I should go with you."

Morda did not even reprimand him for his interruption, she merely nodded. "Of course. I will take Pierce with me to the base. Jaesa, you will go to the spaceport."

"My lord," Quinn said. "I do not recommend this course of action."

Pierce turned to Quinn with a curl of his lip. "Don't worry Captain. The real soldiers have got this one."

Vette gave Quinn a sympathetic look – which only made matters worse – as Morda left and the others trailed behind her.

As he had predicted, there were complications. Morda and Pierce barely made it through the General's defensive line alive. Quinn was certain that Jaesa would have been able to sway the loyalties of the General's paid mercenaries, using her unique power in the Force to take them out of the equation, leaving fewer soldiers for Morda to face. Afterwards, as he reported to Morda over the holocom, he dared to point out how her decision to follow Pierce's advice, and not his, had nearly cost them the victory. He had expected her anger, maybe even her contempt, but instead she merely shrugged at him.

"People make mistakes, Quinn." Then she had cut the call.

Quinn didn't think the day could have gotten any worse, until it did. He returned to the ship that evening to find Pierce sitting in the common area. He was engaged in regaling an animated tale to Morda, no doubt featuring himself as the hero.

"Captain Quinn." Morda spotted him and rose. She gestured to Pierce sitting at her side. "Lieutenant Pierce will be joining our crew. I'm sure we'll all find him a great boon."

"Yes, I'm sure," Quinn muttered. He nodded to Pierce –- no one could say that he wasn't polite - and gave an excuse to make a quick exit.

Later that evening, Vette stopped him in the hallway.

"Hey." She planted her feet on the floor, blocking his further progress down the hall.

"What do you want, Vette?"

"You know, you don't have to be oh soooo friendly all the time." She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, but then leaned in close, glancing about quickly before whispering, "What do you think of Lieutenant Pierce?"

"I try not to think about him actually."

"I hear he blackmailed Moff Hurdenn in order to ditch his posting on Taris. I wonder what dirt he dug up on him?"

"I don't know and I doubt it's any of your business either."

"Hmm, well, I just thought you might like to be a part of the talk going around, you know, now that we have something to talk about other than you." She grinned.

"You should know by now that gossip doesn't interest me. I advise you to pay more attention to your duties and less to the affairs of others." He pushed past her.

Later, he lay on his cot, watching the blue flickering lights from the kolto tank play across the ceiling. He did not doubt Pierce's loyalty. But Vette's story just added another layer to the lack of scruples that the Lieutenant had displayed. He didn't like it.

At his age, he should be well beyond caring whether or not others gossiped about him. Yet, he found himself ruminating over Vette's comment about him being a source of talk on the ship. Most likely she was just trying to get his hackles up. It was a talent of hers. Still, he found himself wondering what was being said about him and to whom. It was a good thing that he had not slept with Morda, he decided. He imagined her, Vette and Jaesa sitting around in their pajamas comparing him with Pierce and giggling about the size differences between them. Ridiculous. He needed to stop this line of thinking right now, because it was going nowhere. He rolled over and tried to sleep.

00o00

Quinn could not disguise his contempt for the Lieutenant, and Pierce made no effort to be friendly with him either. After only six days on the ship together, the tension between them hummed like a live wire. At night, Quinn could hear Morda laughing from her bedroom across the hall, and Pierce's answering rumble. Eventually he turned on the Kolto tank so that's its gentle gurgling hum blocked out any other unwelcome sounds.

The following morning, Pierce entered the kitchen as Quinn was making a cup of caf. Everywhere he turned, Pierce's bulky presence was in his way, blocking a cabinet, closing the fridge just as he was about to open it, taking the last clean mug. Quinn said nothing, feeling that any attempts at conversation would surely fail.

As Quinn sat down at the table, Pierce leaned against a nearby counter, slurping from his cup and eyeing him with blatant distaste. A sneer was forming on his face.

"So, Captain, were you frakking Lord Morda before I came along?"

Quinn nearly choked on his drink. He set his cup down carefully, and wiped the small spill from the table.

"I will not grace such crudeness with a reply."

Pierce chuckled. "No matter." His scarred face crinkled under another ghastly grin. "She's got herself a real man now anyway."

Quinn was on his feet in a moment, with his blaster in hand and leveled at Pierce's broad chest. Pierce's mug landed on the counter with a thunk and he held his hands out.

"Hey, hey. Don't want any trouble."

"You will show respect for your commanding officer, is that clear? Or I'll make your life a misery. You'll be back on Taris, or somewhere even worse, at my say so."

"Fine," Pierce grumbled. "Just got a raunchy sense of humor is all."

"What's this?" Morda had appeared in the doorway. "What's going on? Pierce? Quinn?" She stared them both down, her red eyes flashing.

Quinn holstered his blaster. "All is well, my lord," he said, his eyes never leaving Pierce's face. "The lieutenant and I were just coming to an understanding."

Pierce nodded to Morda and squeezed out the door.

"I apologize, my lord," Quinn said. "I let him goad me into a temper."

"Yes," she said, and the smile that touched her lips was coy. "I felt it. I trust your judgment, Captain. I will have a little chat with Pierce about the chain of command around here."

Quinn's heart was finally starting to slow to a normal speed. "Thank you, my lord. I am grateful for your support."

She turned and her bright eyes met his. "You'll always have it, Quinn."

He felt himself flushing. He nodded and busied himself with his cup, until he was alone once more. Maybe she did still value his service after all.

00o00

Morda was sitting on the bridge when she caught the unmistakable crackle of anger coming from another part of the ship. Her apprentice Jaesa was a fountain on unrestrained passions now that she had set them loose, but this anger had a different feel to it. It was not Jaesa. It was tight and refined and sharp like the pulse of a whip. It was gripping, seductive even, and Morda rose to investigate. She reached the door and knew. Quinn. Excitement built in her chest. She wanted to see this.

Quinn was staring down the barrel of his blaster at Pierce. Their clash in personalities had become obvious after barely a day on the ship together, but Morda was curious as to what Pierce had done to have incited such a strong reaction in Quinn. Annoyance drifted off of Pierce, but Quinn was surrounded by a torrent of indignation and disgust. His color was high, the blood drumming under his skin, sending out waves of power that Morda could feel through the Force. His anger touched her like a heady caress, sparking a burst of excitement inside her. I'm still attracted to him, she thought.

After the situation was diffused, she promised him she would discuss the matter with Pierce.

Pierce. She had found working with him these last few weeks to be rather refreshing. He wasn't afraid to do whatever it took to get things done. He also had no qualms about accepting her nightly invitations. That first night she had been plagued by a dreadful itch that had gone so long unscratched, that she had been a bit over eager. Pierce was a big man, but Morda gathered Force power in her hands and threw it outwards, knocking him back onto her bed and pinning him there. He had laughed, a deep, throaty laugh that tickled that annoying itch into a frenzy. "You're the boss," he said, and his craggy voice vibrated down her spine in a delicious spiral.

To her surprise, Pierce had not been intimidated or put off by her power. In fact, he seemed to enjoy letting her take the lead. His face, normally so severe and hard, had broken into a sexy grin when she had pushed him onto the bed and mounted him for a hard and frantic ride. What he lacked in technique, he made up for in exuberance and stamina. After a short rest, she toppled him down again among the pillows, and he was just as ready for another go as she was. "Plenty more where that came from babe," he told her with a grin.

She wondered now how he would react to being reprimanded. Morda entered the crew quarters and closed the door behind her. Pierce was seated on one of the bunks, polishing the barrel of a blaster. He stood immediately, his broad shoulders blocking one of the ceiling lights and casting a wide shadow across the floor. He nodded respectfully and waited for her to speak.

Morda didn't bother with pleasantries. They were just a waste of time. "Do you have a problem with Captain Quinn?"

Pierce narrowed his eyes. "Little pussy-footed prick pulled a gun on me."

Morda hardened her voice. "You were out of line."

"Sorry, m'lord. Quinn and I don't see to eye to eye on things. Can't do a thing without his approval. Didn't know the captain ran things around here. Rather take my orders direct."

"Quinn handles the details, but you answer to me."

"Got it. Just like to know where things stand."

"Your talents won't be wasted here, Lieutenant. I can promise you that."

"Good, just keep Captain Protocol off my back. Moff Hurden was all about regulations too. Took longer than it should have to take down the War Trust because of it. The moff didn't think soldiers could strategize." He grunted. "Proved him wrong. Don't want to relive the same damn situation with Quinn. Give me freedom to operate, and you'll see results."

"I like what I've seen so far," Morda said.

"Pleased to hear that m'lord."

Morda nodded and prepared to leave, but Pierce shifted on his feet.

"Do you have more to say?"

"Quinn acts jealous. Are you involved with him?"

Quinn had turned her down, and now he had the gall to act jealous? Is that was their argument had been about? The question was intrusive and brazen, but Morda understood Pierce's concern. It was no secret among the crew that Pierce came and went from her room at odd hours of the night. What she didn't need was two men having chest-beating contests on her ship. As entertaining as it might sound, it was really a nuisance.

"No, we're not," she said. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

He gave her a direct look and then nodded.

Morda left him, but her thoughts were on Quinn. Would seeing her regular dalliances with Pierce be enough to propel him into action?

As the weeks went by, Quinn acted distant and professional towards her, and while his work was impeccable, they conversed little beyond what was needed to handle the task at hand. Morda spent a short time on Quesh, and then moved on to track down a Jedi on Hoth. She continued to take Pierce with her on most missions. If Quinn minded that he'd been relegated to the sidelines, he showed no sign. He took orders without complaint and managed all the details that Morda didn't have the time or the inclination to oversee herself. It was easy to forget he was even there at times. He was the perfect crew mate, always prompt and reliable, and if ever there was something crucial that had been overlooked, Morda could count on Quinn to spot it and alert her.

In the meantime, Morda was quite enjoying herself. She felt so alive and energetic these last few months, and working with Pierce was one adrenaline rush after another. Her reputation was growing, and she found recognition and accolades everywhere she went. The only thing that niggled at her was Darth Baras's growing secrecy regarding her assignments. He tricked her once, sending her on what she thought was a rescue mission, until Morda discovered that the whole scenario had been an elaborate set-up and her role had been to be a mere pawn. She was angry that he had seen fit to exclude her from his true purpose, and was suspicious of his motives. Did he think of her as one of his petty minions, no better than some Force-blind operative or soldier? He had even taken on another apprentice, a Sith who had already been declared a Lord. She was insulted. In was in his name that she earned all this glory after all.

Hoth was miserably cold, and Morda began to long for the hot, sunny days on Korriban. Every trip required extra time to prepare cold weather gear and supplies, and Morda was nearly blinded each day from the glare of the distant sun off the snow and ice. Vette and Quinn both openly shared their distaste of going planetside under such conditions, but Pierce readily volunteered, and it was his presence that made it all bearable. He told jokes, openly taunted their foes, and carried a confidence about him that was as contagious as it was inspiring. He was happiest in the throes of battle and never turned down a chance to showcase his prowess on the field. They took on increasingly difficult challenges, spurring each other on, even engaging in contests of skill to see who had the highest body count. Morda would return to the ship cheerfully exhausted and covered in scrapes and bruises. Quinn took in her frequently common visits to the medbay with silent resignation, dressing her wounds without comment and ordering more supplies when she quickly ran through their stock of bandages and anti-infectants.

Her renown as a warrior grew. She even acquired the loyalty of a Talz fighter named Broonmark who attached himself to her and declared her his master. How could she refuse such adoration? She took him onto the crew, although the rest of the crew gave her some strange looks.

Such a pace couldn't be sustained forever. Her exhaustion at the end of the day taxed her enough that she began forgoing her frequent sexual encounters with Pierce in favor of simply going to bed early. It was only when her energy continued to decline that she began to wonder if something was wrong. A virus maybe, or stress. No other symptoms surfaced however, and she didn't seem to be getting better. Annoyance plagued her at first, and then a pang of worry set in. One day a startling possibility occurred to her.

She got up early, when she knew that Quinn would be out on a supply run, and crept into the medbay. She pawed through three different drawers trying to find the bioscanner, and rifled twice through the same cabinet. By the Force, had he alphabetized everything? Finally she found it. She gave it a prick of her blood and watched the graph jump as it analyzed her chemical composition. At first it told her she may have some rare lung ailment only suffered by Mon Calimari, until she fiddled with the dials a bit and got in the right testing parameters. How did Quinn manage this thing? It beeped with a new diagnosis.

Damn it all to the void. She was pregnant.

Foolishly, she had assumed that she would be more attuned to her own body, that she would even be able to stop such a thing from occurring. Careless of both of them. Now what? No one needs to know, she thought. She still had time, a few more months at least, before she would start to show. Then she'd...well, she'd figure out something then. No need to have it all worked out right this minute, was there? She went back to bed.