Chapter 7

Jaesa, Pierce, and even Broonmark acted as if their brief time as a crew together was barely a memory. Jaesa openly declared that she expected Lord Morda to never return. It had been many months, but Quinn had not forgotten.

He did as he was told by his superiors at the Quesh base, overseeing a few space missions and managing transfers and personnel matters. That is how he discovered Pierce's unsanctioned trip to Korriban. Pierce had applied for extraplanetary leave, going through all the proper channels. The time off itself was approved, but he had not supplied the proper documentation for his request to leave Quesh, and so that had been denied. Quinn noted this with vague disinterest. His curiosity was peaked however though when a higher authority had overridden the denial, approved Pierce's pass for interstellar travel, and then marked his destination classified.

Quinn investigated, which required pulling in a few discretely worded favors, and was rewarded with Pierce's flight schedule. The Lieutenant had gone to Korriban. A common soldier had no business on the predominantly Sith planet, only those connected to the academy, invited by a Lord, or doing the bidding of the Dark Council itself ever went there. Quinn stared at Pierce's itinerary, stunned at how blind he had been. Morda's family lived on Korriban. Had she simply gone home? Had she been hiding in plain sight all this time?

It stung to think that she had called Pierce to her without notifying him or any of the others. Her ship was under his command, and he had done everything she had requested, keeping the ship maintenance up to date, monitoring the rest of the crew's activities, and of course, patiently waiting for her return. Was this how she rewarded him? Something odd was going on. After letting it eat away at him for two days, Quinn decided to travel to Korriban himself.

Three days later he stood outside the gates of Morda's family's estate, looking over the high walls from a vantage point of a nearby hill. Could he walk right up to the door and request admittance? If Morda had gone to the effort of hiding her presence here, then he doubted her family would give her away that easily. The thought of having to deal with Morda's mother, Lord Morella, made him flinch. It would not be wise for him to be seen, he decided.

He lost another day making plans and watching the estate from his distant vantage point, marking the daily routines of the slaves and whatever comings or goings that might occur. He saw no one enter or leave however. He slept that night in a nearby cave, determined to implement a scheme that would get him the information he required.

Early the next morning he slipped through a crumbled and neglected corner of the enclosing wall and approached the gardens. He carefully padded his steps so that the gardener would not notice him, until got close enough to see the door that led from the garden to the house. Yesterday morning, a few slaves had come out and gathered flowers and other herbs, and Quinn had noticed that none of them were wearing collars. Some Sith, he was aware, considered this a sign of their power, that their slaves obeyed them without need of an external crutch. This would make things easier. By the time his right leg had gone numb from squatting, he was awarded with what he sought.

A skinny rose-skinned Twi'lek entered the garden, tip-toeing delicately through a flower bed, and began snipping choice buds of some of the flowers there. He readied his darts and waited for her to come closer. He had expected to have to tag her from a distance, but she came surprisingly close to his hiding spot, and he held still, holding his breath, as she entered an area of the garden that was barely a few paces from him. He shot the tranquilizer dart and she slapped at her neck, muttering. In the next moment, she was wavering on her feet, and then she crumpled to the ground.

Quinn darted forward and lifted her in his arms. Thankfully she was wisp of a thing, although now that he was up close, he could see that she was older than she had first appeared, a woman well into her prime. He carried her back to the cave he had been using as a base, and set her on the dusty floor. Then he opened his med kit and began arranging his tools on a nearby rock, while he waited for her consciousness to return.

He had just started preparing the first of the syringes when she moaned and rolled onto her side. She propped herself onto her hands, took one quick look at the tight, dark walls of the cave around her, and then visibly jumped when she spotted Quinn. She scrambled backwards on all fours until she hit the wall behind her, whimpering.

"I certainly hope that you speak Basic." Quinn rose and approached her until he stood over her, looking down. He had done a few interrogations back on Balmorra, but the more reticent prisoners he had handed over to those with greater skill than he, and so he hoped now that this girl would be pliable. He didn't have the proper tools for such a job, but he knew how to get creative with his medical supplies. He stood a little too close, emphasizing his height advantage, and crossed his arms as he studied her. She quickly grew uncomfortable with his wordless stare and finally blurted out in accented Basic, "What do you want?"

He grimaced at her and backed away, settling himself next to the rock, and picked up the first syringe. "I need information. If you cooperate, this doesn't have to be painful." He filled it, holding it up so that she could easily see the liquid as it entered the vial, and then fastened the needle onto the tip, turning it experimentally in the faint light. Her eyes were round and wide, and they darted from the needle to him and then back again.

"Where is Lord Morda?"

The slave shook her head, her head tails swaying across her shoulders. "She's not here."

"Where is she?" he repeated slowly.

She took a quick breath that sounded more like a sob and choked out, "I don't know."

"That's not the answer I'm looking for." By the stars, what if she really didn't know? This could go badly. He set down the syringe and filled another, lining it neatly on the rock's surface next to the first. "Do you know what this is?"

The slave stared, her pupils bare pinpricks within the whites of her eyes.

"This is an adrenal, used to rouse unresponsive patients under the effects of certain sedatives or coma-inducing poisons. It is a strong stimulant, and when given in a concentrated dose, it causes increased respiration, elevated heart rate, tremors, sweating and eventually convulsions. Unpleasant, but bearable perhaps, depending on your tolerance for such things. However, when combined with this," he held up the second syringe, "together they induce severe itching and powerful hallucinations. Sufferers end up clawing their own skin into bloody tatters before the effect has worn off, or sometimes even poking out their own eyes. Now," he paused and picked up a third vial, which he also began to prepare for injection, "this third serum here causes muscle paralysis, but an overdose brings on severe shivering and causes the muscles to seize up painfully. It's agonizing, I'm told."

He picked up the first syringe and stepped closer to the slave. "I have lots more medical supplies where those came from." He bent close to her and held her eyes. "What do you say?"

"My masters will have you flayed alive," she sputtered. Her voice was tremulous but he could hear the forced courage in it. What if the slave's fear of her masters was greater than anything he could inflict? He decided to try a different tactic.

He stood and nodded to her. "You loyalty to your masters is commendable. I work for Lord Morda. I know she is in hiding. However, she is in danger and I cannot warn her if I cannot reach her. If you help me, you are helping her, and you will be rewarded." It was close enough to the truth. "There was a visitor to the house a few days ago. A soldier. Do you remember him?"

The slave shook her head rapidly.

"I know Lord Morda was here," he said. He didn't know, but his suspicions were strong and it might be easier to get her to admit to suggestions than to offer up her own information. "And that she met with Lieutenant Pierce."

"He left. Days ago."

"Did Lord Morda leave with him?"

The slave shook her head. "He left alone."

"When did Lord Morda leave?"

"I don't know."

"There was a Twi'lek slave with her, named Vette. Do you know of her?"

The slave's eyelids twitched. "I saw her around a few times."

"Is she here?"

"No, she's gone too."

"Did she leave with Lord Morda?"

The slave said nothing. He was growing tired of this charade. He lunged at her without warning, grabbing her by the arm. She shrieked and kicked at him wildly, trying to scramble across the floor to get away. He threw her back into the dirt and straddled her, sticking the needle into her arm and emptying its contents. He had told the truth about all the serums, but this dose was milder than he had let on. It would cause some of the initial uncomfortable symptoms, but not the convulsions. She fell limp and started sobbing. He stood up.

"You are making this hard and I am growing impatient."

"Who are you?" she whimpered.

"I am the one asking the questions, not you!" He crossed the room and snatched up the second syringe. She was on all fours, skittering clumsily towards the exit, but he caught up with her, pushed her to the ground and then pinned her there, holding the syringe before her face.

"Wait!" she cried. "Lord Morda left with Vette two days ago. She didn't tell anyone where she was going, but she took a public shuttle off Korriban. I overheard the lady of the house saying that she had stolen her I.D. pass."

"Lord Morella you mean? She's traveling under her mother's name?"

"Yes!"

He released her and rose. The slave curled up on the floor, shaking and gasping. Some of it was probably fear, but Quinn also suspected that the serum was starting to kick in. "You can go."

"What?" She sat up and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Get up." Quinn rummaged in his medical bag while she got awkwardly to her feet. "Listen, you were in garden, when you realized you were not feeling well. You fainted. You are sick and need some rest."

"But-"

He pulled her toward him and shot her with another injection. She yelped and pulled away. "What was that?"

"You're going to pass out soon. You'd better hurry back. Your blood pressure is dropping." She stood there just staring at him. "Get going!"

She tripped towards the cave exit and began running. He watched her go, and then followed her a ways behind. If she didn't make it, he would have to carry her back to the garden himself. She stumbled a few times, holding her head, and finally he saw her cross into the confines of the garden. She made it a few more steps before falling to the ground.

Quinn pulled out his holopad and began searching the flight records for the nearest spaceport. He found that a Lord Morella had indeed been registered for a flight with her personal slave to Nar Shadaa only days ago. He knew where he needed to go next.

00o00

He didn't like this section of the city, it had far too many aliens and people with Republic accents for his comfort. He'd been following Vette for two hours, and his search had ended here, at this unremarkable cantina. He had wisely chosen to wear street clothes, grabbing what little options he had in his wardrobe and ending up with a nondescript black shirt and trousers. Still, he was growing concerned that his clean cut appearance and Imperial accent would mark him if he had to stay in this place too long. The cantina was near one the main spaceports, and catered to spacers and other transients. He did not fit in here.

Quinn had chosen a small table near the door, and had been watching a certain elevator for a long time now. Clientele with enough credits could request a private room for meetings or other social gatherings and someone had apparently paid for Vette do reserve such a room. Vette had gone into the elevator nearly a half an hour ago and had still not come out. She was meeting with two others, who had shown up a few minutes after her, another female Twi'lek and a male human. The Twi'lek looked like a shady sort, with two impressively modified pistols on her belt and the confident, sardonic swagger of one who believed that the usual laws did not apply to them. Her companion had to be a mercenary or bodyguard by his dress, but looked like he was barely old enough to have a pilot's license, let alone be capable of protecting someone.

Quinn finished off his drink and was about to order another when the spacer and her companion reappeared. They left quickly, not chatting with each other and acting in a hurry. Vette soon followed, looking around furtively before heading for the door. Quinn and made to follow, but sat back down quickly when a third woman emerged from the room, who he had not known was there. She must have arrived before Vette. She wore a long red trench coat and a spacer's hat. She flipped a few credits at the bartender, giving him an arrogant and somewhat flirtatious smile before leaving out the main door as well. Quinn rose and left.

Vette and the strange human woman were just outside, embracing like dear sisters about to part. "Are you sure now?" he heard the woman say. "Because you know Captain Visia smuggles out slaves all the time. We could get you out of here in a jiffy."

Vette rubbed her eyes, as if wiping away tears, and shook her head. "Thank you Risha, I mean it, really. But…not now. She needs me and I couldn't do that to her."

"This Sith better be treating you like a rare artifact for you to be talking like that." The woman named Risha sighed. "Fine, but you know where to find me. I've got to head out. I won't be there for the exchange at the ship. So...I guess this is goodbye."

The two women embraced for a long time, holding each other tightly. When they finally parted, Vette just stood on the sidewalk, looking about and sighing. She wasn't wearing her collar anymore, Quinn noticed. She began walking to where she had parked her speeder.

Quinn had already set a tracer on her speeder, but all of this was just getting weirder by the minute. He made a quick decision.

He bolted after her. She heard his footsteps and spun, reaching for a set of blasters at her hips. How had he not noticed that Morda had let her be armed? Quinn knocked aside one of the guns and grabbed her other wrist, forcing it behind her back.

"Damn it Vette, don't shoot me," he hissed. "And don't cause a scene."

"Captain Quinn," she sputtered. "What's going…what…what are you doing here? Ugh, let go of me."

He released her and she put her blasters away, glaring at him.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said. "Meeting with smugglers, Lord Morda completely absent…what are you doing?"

"I can't believe you found me here. I'm acting on Morda's orders. Which you obviously aren't."

"Lord Morda disappears for almost a year with no explanation, and then I find you here, conspiring with outlaws. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't think that you are a traitor?"

Vette made a noise of disgust. "You want to know what happened? Fine, be a jerk about it. Morda got pregnant, ok? Pierce is the father. The baby is not force-sensitive and so he needs to be smuggled out of Imperial space."

Quinn took a step back. Pregnant. By the void, how had he not realized this? She had been acting strange, her bioscans were off, yet he had spent so little time exposed to such situations that it had never occurred to him. Emotions flitted through him. Shock, guilt, disgust, confusion. Pierce, the father of Morda's baby? He didn't deserve such a distinction. Then it registered what Vette had said last.

"What do you mean she's smuggling him out of Imperial space?" The thought almost filled him with a physical pain, and he was surprised at his own reaction. Did she think so little of Force-insensitives? Like he, like her own baby, were worthless? "You mean she's throwing the child away because he'll never be Sith?"

It came at him so fast that he didn't even see what had hit him. He rocked back on his heels and then bent over his stinging cheek, looking at Vette in shock.

"You are an idiot, you know that? The baby is a Pureblood and he has barely any connection to the Force. She's sending him away to save his life. Gah, you are impossible!"

Quinn was speechless for a time. He couldn't imagine what Morda had been going through and he suddenly felt very petty and insignificant. "I apologize," he said, his voice barely a hush.

"Yeah, well, you'd better."

They stared at each other for a moment. Finally Quinn said, "So much for not causing a scene."

Vette smirked. "Just a lover's spat. That's all it looks like." Then she grew serious. "I need to go. Don't follow me."

She got on her speeder and took off. Quinn waited until she was out of sight and then followed her anyway.

00o00

He found a place near some supply crates on an upper level balcony where he could watch the goings on in the hanger. The Twi'lek smuggler was here, milling about next to a wreck of a ship that looked like it was being held together with nothing but tape and some wires. Her companion sat on the ship's gangplank with a blaster laid across his lap. Vette paced by the hanger entrance. She had made a holocall earlier to Morda and now she waited.

Quinn was getting a cramp from craning his neck trying to see Vette when Morda appeared. She looked the same as he remembered her, statuesque and proud, dressed in black with a cape that billowed behind her like a shadow. She carried both her lightsabers at her hip. The only incongruence in this whole scene was the baby that she cradled against her shoulder. He was surprised to see that Pierce was not present.

The smuggler stiffened when she spotted Lord Morda approaching, and her companion got up and stood next to her, looking nervous and on high alert. Vette ran to meet Morda, nodding to her and then falling into step just behind her. The two groups met in the middle of the hanger. Quinn was frustrated. He couldn't hear their words at this distance, but he watched them exchange some awkward pleasantries and then Morda handed the smuggler a credit stick. The smuggler tapped it against her holopad and studied the read-out a moment before nodding. Then she turned away and wandered off, leaving Morda and Vette alone.

Quinn didn't understand what was happening at first, but then he realized that this was Morda's chosen time to say goodbye. He felt self-conscious and uncomfortably voyeuristic witnessing such a thing. Morda tucked a small object, perhaps a toy, into the baby's wrapped blanket and then stared at him in silence for a long while. Vette stood nearby, pretending to be interested in her surroundings. At last Morda kissed the top of the baby's head and then walked back towards the ship.

The smuggler approached and for a moment the two women just looked at each other. Vette lightly touched Morda's arm and said something. Morda clutched the baby to her chest and Quinn thought that she was about to change her mind and dash from the room, but after an awkward silence, she handed the baby over. The smuggler took the child and then immediately gave it over to her companion, turning back to take a bag from Vette's outstretched hand. Morda backed away slowly, then turned to walk stiffly back through the hanger. Vette raced to keep up with her, and reached out a hand to touch her on the arm, but Morda flinched and pushed her away.

The smuggler went back to the gangplank and stood there a moment. She was almost directly underneath Quinn and close enough that he could make out the design on the decorative band around her forehead. Her companion held the baby with surprising gentleness and was peering curiously into the blanket.

"Captain, you've barely looked at him," he said. He had an accent from some backwater planet, no doubt a Republic world.

"I don't need to. I know what Sith look like."

"Aw, he's not too bad. He's actually kind of cute…" he paused and scrunched up his face, "in a homely, sithy sort of way."

The smuggler smiled kindly at him. "You would think that Corso."

"Can we keep him?"

"What? No way."

"Well…just asking." The baby began to fuss and Corso frowned. He put the baby up against his shoulder and snuggled with it, patting the baby's back. The baby quieted immediately.

"We've got an interested party already. We'll get our turn to have a baby someday." She walked over and kissed his cheek. "I promise."

She disappeared up the gang plank and Corso followed after her, calling out, "I'm going to hold you to that Captain!"

Quinn backed away and crept out of the hanger.