Jun 17
Quinn: my Lord, I don't expect you to show mercy after what I've done-
Sith Warrior: Here's how I'll torture you, Quinn. #1: the Marrow Furnace.
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Quinn: my Lord, I don't expect you to show mercy after what I've done-
Sith Warrior: Here's how I'll torture you, Quinn. #1: the Marrow Furnace.
Chapter 45. Sith Warrior
From Part 8. Conclusions and Continuations
Galaxy Without End
*
Committed
*
It was hard for the Light Red to pass in military zones. The sleek pink yacht simply wasn’t something that could blend in or be easily explained. An automated station designed purely to hand out transponder codes…well, Ruth would have to chance it.
She walked ahead of Quinn onto the station, and he directed her with quiet words. The risk had to be hers; if something opened fire on him he had no way to block it. She gladly took on that risk herself.
They walked into a large round room, pretty far from the Light Red’s airlock. He passed in front of her, took a few paces, and turned around.
“Quinn? Do you see a terminal I don’t?”
He tilted his head back just enough to look down his nose. “Ruth. For over a year I have known that if you do not change it is my fate to watch you die. And for almost as long, I have known that it will likely be by my hand. Baras is my true master. And your time is up.”
The words jumbled in her head. She seized the first ones. “Malavai. He's a serial killer driven by paranoia. He tears down as much as he builds, you know that.”
“His vision is the Empire,” Quinn said fiercely. “Rule through strength, my lord, not compromise. The Emperor is an absentee landlord and his chosen Wrath has not—my lord, you grasp so little relative to your reach. I have tried to guide you, and it wasn’t enough.” If durasteel could feel pain, his face would stand explained. It was hard to pity metal. “Unlike you, I follow my orders in the spirit in which they are given. You are here to die.”
“No." His face was determined, but he always deferred to her. "I don’t believe you. You got an offer, but you don’t have to take it, we can still win, we can be better than this.”
“What is your ‘better’?” Frustration edged his voice. “Time and again you have allowed problems to pass out of your reach. Enemies, Ruth, not innocents. Why?”
She wasn’t used to talking about this with anyone but Jaesa, there in hiding where the Empire’s authorities wouldn’t hear. “Life." Didn’t it all add up to that? "Life creates the Force, sustains it. I cannot diminish it every time I run into a disagreement.”
“Yet the Empire lives on those who do.” He stopped as if waiting for her rebuttal. She was too confused to give him one. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.
“This room was built to my specifications,” he said, and touched a control on his wrist. Doors opened all around the chamber. Some held turrets. Two held six-legged war droids with scorpion-like tails, each unit carrying three blasters. “You will never know how hard I fought to prevent this exact scenario.”
She assessed. Of course she assessed. Her tactics were already laid out. “Quinn, stop it. Stop it. Stop this. I love you.”
“You can't talk this through.”
The droids raised their tails and fired at Ruth from a wide angle.
She activated her sabers midair. The droid she attacked skittered out of its alcove, swerving clear of her swings over and over again. With three blasters mounted, it could keep her under pressure without ever having to stay in melee range. He knew exactly how to get to her.
Baras is my true master. Impossible. Crossfire sailed in. The droid was hard to press and it had a twin at her back. Unlike you, unlike you, I am unlike you. She Force lifted one of the droids and smashed it into the other. She wasn’t just a pair of lightsabers. She used her feelings, she always used her feelings, he had always given her such feelings. She launched herself at one of the wall turrets, whirling her sabers in midair to deflect the maelstrom of blaster fire. At the moment of impact, she plunged both sabers into the turret and heard it shriek in coming apart.
She turned around. Quinn was sighting down his sidearm. It only looked like he was staring into her eyes. His face was a white mask.
When one crumpled droid raised one blaster-wielding tail, she crushed it with one closing hand. There was fear in her, subsiding, already giving way to something warmer and redder. He had lied to her.
No.
He had fucked her, eagerly, over and over.
That couldn't mean nothing.
He hadn't thought her soft when she helped him deal with Moff Broysc.
He had used her. And used her, and used her. For a paycheck, professional advancement, his thrills, his petty confessions—never the big one—for a meal ticket, for the warm glow of adoring support. She had given him everything and he had taken it without ever telling her his attentions hinged on something more.
He knew. He knew, all this time, what his decision would be. And he'd touched her anyway.
The droids were flattened, the turrets destroyed. Quinn still shot at her.
She ripped the blaster from his hand and smashed it against the floor. She hoisted him against the far wall with the Force, pinning him there by his throat. It was a classic pose, the Sith and the fool.
The fools, together.
In the new inferno of feeling something whispered for her attention. Something small, something…inside.
When she dropped Quinn, he crumpled on the floor. She dragged her focus back outside and stalked up to where he lay on his side, torso heaving.
She had to choose what to do with him. And she could not kill him yet. Her heart reported that bitterly. She could not kill him yet.
“I could send you back to Baras now,” she said. “Naked, maybe. Do you want to see your master again?” His breath whistled. She kicked his ribs. “Answer me when I speak.”
“No, my lord.” He twisted to face upward at her. “Let me stay.”
She kicked his ribs. “It's inappropriate for a man in your position to make jokes.”
“I can help you,” he croaked.
She stooped and raised him once more, this time with a hand around his throat. She brought him up eye to eye while his boots drummed on the floor. “I do wonder one thing, my love. Was it good for you?”
“My lord…”
“Yes or no.”
“Beyond dreams.”
“You aren't entitled to dreams anymore. You will learn before I get bored of this.” She tossed him aside. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists and bled, surely she was bleeding. “Get up. Get up.”
She marched him back to the Light Red.
Her crew was waiting in a haze of tension when she walked into the holo room. “Quinn is Baras's man. I'm storing him until Baras is resolved. Pierce, please make sure he doesn't get himself or any communication out. Lock him in his quarters, break the holo, and don't tell me anything he says or does. I want him lucid and with all his parts attached. Beyond that, I don't care.” She felt the twin surges of fear and vicious delight. She rounded on Quinn. “If you think that's the harsh part, you truly underestimated me.”
Vette said, “Can we talk about this more?”
Pierce said, “What’s to talk about? He’s a moron and she’s free to choose her own way. Congratulations, I say.”
Jaesa said, “Ruth. What can we do?”
“Get us to Corellia. I have things to do. If anyone interrupts me for anything less than the Emperor’s will, I will cut off a body part of my choice.”
Somehow, she got back to her quarters. Quinn’s light footprint was a hideous oppression. She gathered up his spare uniform, his blaster cleaning kit, the sheet they had stained and laughed about. She threw it all out into the hallway and stepped back in and fell to her knees on the floor. She leaned over, choking on something, unable to cry.
She directed her attention to the thing that had stopped her. Something deep inside, something foreign and possessed.
She wanted to reel back, but the rush of horror only illuminated the new life more brightly. A mere week ago she would have been glad of it, but now she only wanted to distance herself from her womb, as far as she could.
Quinn had done one last thing to her. And in that moment, she hated them both with all her heart.
*
Ruth answered the door when Vette knocked. Vette was trying not to think about what had happened to the ship, when it seemed all the pink sections had started to bleed. Ruth looked deadly tired after six hours’ solitude.
“Ruth, Emperor’s will, don’t cut my parts off.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there's—"
Thud from Quinn’s quarters.
“—The Hand on the holo.”
“Yes,” said Ruth. Thud. “The actual reason for being here.”
Thud. The worst part was, there were no voices. Pierce wasn't presenting a path toward not getting beaten, and Quinn was taking it in total silence.
Ruth went to stand before the Servants. “Wrath,” said Servant One.
“The Wrath is unleashed,” quavered Servant Two.
Thud.
Vette edged toward Jaesa. “Should we…?”
“Be quiet!” Ruth shouted. Vette had never known her to shout, except to cross distances. “Destroy Baras's pawns and help Darth Vowrawn. Nothing has changed.”
Thud
Ruth’s lip curled. “Jaesa, tell him to stop. It's annoying.”
“And…evil…?” Vette offered. She was as pissed off at Quinn as the next person, but whatever was going on in there was torture. Ruth had never given Pierce free rein. Ever. It would have been horrifying.
It was horrifying.
Ruth rounded on her. “Are you in or out?”
“I'm in. You know that. Let's go get some spies.”
*
Jaesa watched the door to Ruth’s quarters. The pile of Quinn’s belongings lay just outside.
She boxed them up and put them in a storage closet. Then she waited by the door.
Pierce left Quinn’s quarters. His knuckles were bloody, and he looked satisfied. “Always wanted to do that,” he said.
“Ruth always stopped you,” Vette said. “Because she’s not a psychopath.”
“I don’t think any of us knows what she is,” said Pierce. “But we’re going to find out.”
“Who’s piloting this ship?” Vette scampered off.
Ruth didn’t emerge until they were on the ground. Coronet City was bombed halfway to ground level. Jaesa’s heart ached, looking at the pointless destruction. She knew that if this red-eyed, dry-cheeked, jaw-clenching woman were feeling like herself, her heart would ache, too.
Ruth stalked off the ship without looking at anybody. Jaesa followed, and Pierce too.
“We have a couple of ‘Jedi’ spies to find,” Ruth said without looking at anyone.
*
There were seven Jedi in the room along with a scattering of Republic guards. Everyone turned when Ruth entered. She signaled for Jaesa and Pierce to stay by the doorway while she walked a little ways in and permitted the Jedi to surround her.
“What is this?” asked one of the Jedi, his clothes and bearing suggesting leadership of some degree. “Sith, stop where you are. You’re badly outnumbered.”
She spoke to the room in general. “Darth Baras’s spy—identify yourself so you don’t die with these Jedi.”
“Are you suggesting that one of us is Sith?” said the Jedi leader.
“A pathetic trick,” said another Jedi. “She’s in over her head, and so she makes a desperate play to destabilize us.”
Ruth had intelligence that one of Baras’s deep cover agents was such a Jedi and was leading this party into a trap designed to pit the Jedi against some of Baras’s Imperial enemies. The agent’s entire purpose seemed to be tipping off and leading the Jedi like that: practically Baras’s personal strike force against his own rivals. That had to go as part of Ruth’s bid to cut his support before striking at him. “Last chance, my fellow Sith. Speak now or die with your pretend brethren.”
“Hold. I must speak.” A middle-aged brunette stepped forward and bowed slightly to Ruth. “You’re becoming a legend among us, my friend. I am thankful you’ve given me a chance to save myself.”
The Jedi leader struggled for words. “Master Injaye…?”
Injaye smiled. “All these years, right under your nose. I was to lead you to your deaths today. Instead I’ll watch my new friend destroy you.”
Ruth’s voice transformed, suddenly thick with something Jaesa didn’t recognize. “You really won’t, traitor. Did you think I was here to save you?” Ruth drew her saber; a murmur ran around the room, but the Jedi did not move to intercept. “You chose the wrong master. I’ll be sure to let him know you failed.”
Too late Injaye went for her weapon. Ruth struck her down before she could raise a defense.
Jaesa had clearly missed the moment where she could have been useful. The Jedi leader spoke. “She was leading us into a suicide mission, then. We’d be walking to our deaths if not for you.”
“Spare me your gratitude,” Ruth said. “It sickens me you couldn’t see her for what she was. Have you Jedi ever gotten anything right?”
“I think it would be best for us to part in peace. Now,” said the leader.
“We should arrest her,” said another. “Whether she saved us or not, she’s a Sith Lord, and no friend of ours.”
“Blind! Arrogant! You have no idea what you’re fighting!”
One Jedi raised his saber. Ruth charged.
“Master, no!” shouted Jaesa, starting forward.
Pierce barred her path with one arm. “Let her go,” he said quietly.
Some Jedi were standing back, Force throwing things in Ruth’s direction.
“But they aren’t–”
“She finally figured out we’re at war,” said Pierce. “And she needs to fight. Let her go.”
Ruth’s frenzy commanded Jaesa's attention. She had always sought peace with Jedi. Now darkness visibly curled around her as she battered down the defenses of her opponents and dealt savagely powerful killing blows. The ugly pained fury Jaesa knew from lesser Sith’s expressions looked utterly out of place on her face.
She could have negotiated. They could have been useful against common enemies. She didn’t have to make it slaughter.
Pierce, prompted by Jaesa didn’t know what, readied his blaster rifle. “Go on in. I’ll trim the edges. You let her do what she needs after.”
Jaesa nodded and pushed into a rapid sprint toward the battle. There was no question of survivors. She could just end it faster.
*
Darth Vowrawn gushed when Ruth rescued him from Baras’s agents. A member of the Dark Council. Maybe once she would have called him an ally. Now he was one more possible death to track, in possession of a few pieces she might be able to move.
From now on, it would always be like that. Red clouds billowed and washed through her all the time. She kept waiting for Quinn to get back to his customary spot behind her left shoulder.
He never would. Not ever again.
She already knew she was going to investigate this possible Entity location. She called Darth Vowrawn, arranged the rendezvous, and hit the road.
With Vowrawn and her crew she entered a broad, relatively squat building in Corellia’s government district. She descended with them into a sub-basement, where they found an enormous hall, lavishly draped yet bare of furniture.
In a column of red light hovered a woman’s figure, an image that absorbed the light and released nothing but a velvety heat of Dark Side energy.
“Is she not beautiful?” Vowrawn said happily.
“I’ve never sensed anything like it,” Ruth admitted.
The answering voice seemed to rasp from multiple directions at once. “Come closer. You are here to aid. Baras knows. I cannot resist.” Her captor sensed that so soon? “I am bound. Every extraction pains. If you fail, he will punish me. For welcoming you.”
Yes, well, that happened to everyone. It was Vowrawn who spoke. “Don’t fear, Entity,” said the Pureblood. “The trial is over. I know the incantation. Now it is a simple matter.”
“No. You do not understand. We are not alone.”
Ruth and Vowrawn turned in unison toward the newcomer they sensed. A big man, seemingly more cybernetics than flesh, but something of his ruined face was familiar.
He extended a hand and Vowrawn simply crumpled under a cloud of red painful even to Force sense.
“At last,” said the cyborg, and the voice was that of Baras’s old apprentice Lord Draahg. “I’ve caught up to you again. I told you, I cannot be killed.”
She didn’t know how he was back. She had killed him weeks ago, after he had announced Baras’s displeasure with her. She couldn’t let fear cloud her senses now. Sheer returning arrogance seemed to be the way to go. “Are you not tired of failing yet?”
“Pain sustains me,” he said thickly. “I ate of suffering as you watched me burn. I drank of anguish as Baras rebuilt me. My eyes are no longer flesh. I see in a new way now. And the sight of you sickens and delights me.”
“Hm. I can return half of that.”
“In minutes the great Darth Vowrawn and his hard-won knowledge will disintegrate. Then the Entity will forever be in Baras’s control.”
“Truth,” grated the Entity. “The death field is powered by the machinery of Draahg’s.”
“But I’m forgetting myself,” added Draahg. His face twisted and puckered around the dark cybernetics when he smiled. “Your father sends his regards. I must say, he didn’t put up a very impressive fight.”
Ruth's heart seized up. By arrogance alone the statement might just have been a taunting lie, but she felt truth in it, the truth that had robbed her of her father the day before she had come to this forsaken planet.
Combat preparation was not a breath, not a focus. It was red.
Draahg laughed when she raced in to meet him. She deflected his first push of raw Force energy without thinking and was dimly aware of something collapsing some ways to one side as a result. She swung into battle at Force-enhanced speed, observing a couple of very slight stiff elements in the big cyborg’s motions.
She found out quickly enough that his raw power more than made up for that weakness.
Everything blurred. He struck at her. He struck at her friends. He struck because she hadn’t stopped him the first time. And although she fought back, he was bigger than she, and he hated as much.
“You fight better than the old man did. I was honestly embarrassed I had to fight that. You're pretty good, apprentice.”
Apprentice? Enough. “My name is Ruth Niral. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
Somewhere after she knocked him away from Pierce and closed to lock him down, he suddenly reached in and grappled with her. When he saw the look on her face he laughed aloud.
She went for the eyes.
Not even the savagery of the Force pushback that flattened her friends could stop her when she went in for the kill. She swept, struck, knocked him to his knees, kicked him to the ground, struck again. She felt it with her whole being when Lord Draahg died.
Before he fell she lopped off his head. Then followed where it rolled and sliced it in half. She returned to dismember the cyborg corpse, hacking piece from piece until a junk vendor would find nothing to salvage. She picked up the small leather lightsaber hilt he’d had at his belt. Her father’s lightsaber.
Still it hurt. Still she raged. She fell to her knees by his smoking, malformed boots, and held her sabers pointing backwards at her sides, and screamed. She screamed for what she had failed to protect and what she had failed to calculate. She screamed because once, they had worked together, and now he was just another man who wanted to hurt her, and she’d won. Wasn’t that great. She won.
She was folded over, crying in shuddering peals. There were people at her side, hands on her back. Vette. Jaesa. They didn't understand. But at least she had torn away another of Baras’s tools.
“Oh, Wrath,” called Vowrawn, “don’t cool down just yet. That connection will be necessary; I’ll require your assistance to complete the ritual.”
Of course. The Dark Side and its continued demands were waiting. The crew would not understand it, but it was necessary. She surged with something that felt like shame. She turned away from Jaesa and stalked over to contribute whatever it was Vowrawn needed to release the Entity and push the mission onward.
*
Ruth hadn’t been to Dromund Kaas since before she lost Baras’s good graces. Now she stalked the retail district, looking for something necessary.
“Okay,” said Vette, “black, classic. I get it. Why are we still looking? You can only wear one suit of armor at a time.”
Ruth ignored her. She had discovered that Vette didn’t actually need encouragement to babble. Once, it had been charming. Now Ruth wondered what thoughts festered under the chatter. A slave learned to hide faces.
She saw it in a huge red showroom that had a dozen elaborate Sith outfits on contorted mannequins in the front window.
She walked in and a saleswoman presented herself immediately. “My lord.”
“The mask,” Ruth said. “The plain mask.” She pointed at the mannequin.
“Ah, an excellent choice. Hidden vents along the jaw and under the nose for easy breathing, and the eyes have circumferential screening to allow peripheral vision without revealing too much of the face beneath.”
“I want it now. How much?”
Vette made a tiny sigh when she saw the mask the saleswoman presented. It was smooth, black, featureless, with a black cowl that would totally hide Ruth’s hair and neck.
“Ruth, you’re not trying to scare children. Are you?”
“They tell me my expression always shows. Not anymore. This is worthy of the Emperor’s Wrath.” At the mention of the rank, the saleswoman nearly dropped the mask before recovering to test its fit. It clipped on perfectly.
Ruth paid and stalked out into the drizzly day. Vette followed. “Do you feel badass enough yet?”
“Why are you following me?”
Vette’s cheek twitched in surprise. “Because Baras’s people might come at us anywhere?”
“That’s a dangerous thing to care about.”
“But I do.”
Ruth was confused and angry and grateful that now nobody could see that. “What did you do on Voss while I was getting fucked in the Dark Heart?”
“I told you. Odd jobs in Gormak land.”
“And who paid you for it?”
“I was fighting the Gormak threat against the Voss.”
“And who paid you for it?”
Vette bit her lip. “The Republic’s ambassador.”
“And did you think I wouldn’t notice, or that I wouldn’t care?”
“You would’ve done it with me. There is no future in playing by the Empire’s rules. You always knew that. It hasn’t changed just because one guy is an asshole.”
“I think you’d better go back to your ship.”
“When Baras is dead? I will. Ruth, he hurt me, too.”
“Revenge. I suppose.” Ruth walked on.
*
Jaesa stayed on the Light Red and prayed that Vette could ease Ruth’s mood. Ruth had been cold and snappish for all of Corellia, and now she was preparing to face Baras on Korriban.
Jaesa just hoped she and Vette could bring Ruth back from the edge first.
She had hesitated ever since it happened. But Ruth was out now, and Jaesa did have the unlock code for Quinn’s quarters. She knocked and let herself in.
Pierce had made good on his promise to remove Quinn’s things. The walls were bare, the furniture was gone, a metal plate had been bolted over the holoprojector. There was nothing here but a kneeling man with spacers locking his wrists a few inches apart.
Quinn’s hair was greasy and unkempt, his beard ragged and shot with gray. His uniform was wrinkled and slightly off center. Cuts and bruises decorated his face, his neck, his wrists.
Nothing about his eyes had changed. “I don’t want your compassion,” he said hoarsely.
What, had he been waiting to say that? “I wasn’t planning on bringing it.”
“Oh? Are you ready to gloat yet?” he said.
As if she could take pleasure in a symptom of Ruth’s newfound cruelty. “How could you? She loves you.”
“Love doesn't win wars, girl. Ah, I enjoy not having to call you ‘milord.’ I gave her a thousand chances to truly commit to Baras's service. And every time, she chose you. Your weakness, your sentiment.”
“She had those strengths before she ever met me.”
“She could have been great! Her power, her drive, her courage." His voice broke. "Her beauty. If her loyalty and her self-interest had kept up...Jaesa, why did you drive her against Baras? A loyal apprentice could have lasted years, decades. You took that from her. From me. Had she not risen high enough? Did you have to bring her childish crusade to the fore?”
“Childish? No. You hate me because I walk her path, rather than her walking yours.”
“Hate implies caring.”
No remorse. “How can you be so dismissive? You supported her. You married her. Obviously something about her pleased you, just not her principles.”
“She was nearly great. If she could only ignore this menagerie she composed, she could have been a Sith to make planets tremble. Instead of a girl I couldn't save.”
“You could have saved her! By not shooting at her! By believing in her the way she believed in you!”
“You understand nothing. The one thing you could have done to help her, you never bothered. Where was your inner sensing?”
The question stabbed her. “I saw darkness in you. She said you'd been brought up that way, and that she could show you a better way to live. That you would come around if she proved herself.”
“Then we were working at cross purposes all this time.” His mouth worked a few seconds longer, speaking nothing.
“Why did you pretend to love her?”
His eyes sparked. “I do love her. More than I've ever loved anything. I know her strengths and flaws intimately, I have supported the former and compensated for the latter since before you knew her. I have always wanted the best for her.”
“Then why did you provide you?” The core question, the only real question. Why was this the thing he had chosen to give her?
“Answer me one more thing, Jaesa. Is she stronger? Is she harder?”
As if that would redeem anything. Jaesa set her jaw and wished her eyes could shoot lasers. “I'll tell Pierce I'm done here.”
That, at least, seemed to shake him. On this awful, awful board, it was the only move she had against him.
And Ruth, these days, was fixated on the board.
*
It was a little early, but if Ruth couldn’t give commands to the Army, she would just come back after Baras’s death and make it an order. She was fully prepared to lean into being the Emperor’s Wrath. Being so important, smart people would steer clear.
Highly ranked Army officers had offices in the Citadel. Baras was busy on Korriban. Ruth could walk where she wanted.
Pierce walked behind her to her right. He smiled at her mask as easily as he had always smiled to her face.
“General.”
“Lieutenant. Lord Niral here has been singing your praises. You've come a long way since Taris. Apparently all it took was the right Sith.” He paused as if hoping one of them would volunteer more details. “Per her command, I am promoting you to the rank of Captain, effective immediately.”
“Milord. Sir. Thank you.”
“Lord. I hand him over to you.”
“Pierce, you should celebrate. Tell me where you want to go to meet your friends.”
The soldier smirked. “Oh, I'll bring them in.”
“Acknowledged. Thank you, General. Dismissed.”
“Milord.”
Back on the ship Pierce stopped at her bedroom door, stood aside, and showed his teeth. “Any other captain's duties?”
A frantic passion, she because she was nineteen and in love for the first time, he because, she could only imagine, he already knew it would have to end. “No.” Never again. “And if you let anyone believe we have, I will castrate you. Take anyone, anywhere, I don’t care, but not me. Understood?”
Milord,” he said calmly. “At your service.”
*
Baras named himself ‘Voice of the Emperor’ before the Dark Council, and no one stopped him. But then he tried to get them to quash the ‘Emperor’s Wrath,’ and no one moved. It seemed that he would have to prove his case.
Ruth wore her new black mask, and new segmented black armor. She felt like a bug that got around by curling into a wheel and rolling, lightless, abject.
But angry.
Baras drew one red lightsaber and took up a guard that seemed to swim in darkness. He wasn’t here for saber technique. He was here to crush her with the Dark Side.
Well, she had a few weeks’ practice turning that to her own advantage.
She fought for herself. For her father, who was dead. For her dreams, which were stupid. For Vette, who was in the employ of the Republic. For Jaesa, who conspired with Light Side Sith like there was a point to rebellion. For Pierce, who would ride her as long as she was going up. For Quinn, whom she had loved.
Baras locked his saber against hers and began to gather energy with his free hand. “Do you feel your grip on life slipping, apprentice?” It was what he had said on Voss. Only…now Ruth felt the warm glow of hatred. She had never been stronger.
Life? What was life? Her grip on hatred was firmer than ever. She cut through his mounting energy and parted her sabers until one of them crackled off the tip of his and pressed the attack. She fought because nobody else would for her, not ever again. She fought because Baras chose her and that would be the mistake that blotted him out of history.
She fought because she had no choice, and even if she had, she would be here now.
“I am so turned on,” Darth Scythia said dryly from her high seat. Ravage chuckled.
A single direct hit from Baras would cut Ruth in two. She knew this, and she stayed moving, trying to block with one saber while stabbing with the other. Her husband, her father...he had taken everything from her except a stupid yacht and two baby friends. The least she could do was stab him, bear him down, and slice his throat.
She did. With the saber from Korriban, and the saber her father had died wielding. The beginning and end of her wandering path. The justice Baras deserved.
Ruth looked up at the watching Darths. “The Emperor has put down the impostor,” she said. “I am his Wrath.” And she would be great at it, because she understood this master. Yes, she would defend the Empire, like always. She would never transcend the chain of command. So she might as well perform it. With this master, and no other. “Not even you can stand on a lie before him.”
Darth Marr, foremost of the people she had once thought she could undermine, stood, rested a hand on his chest, and half bowed. The other Dark Councilors followed, even Scythia. Not because Ruth was a reformer or the pioneer of a better way, but because she was stronger than even the most arrogant of rebels.
Ruth nodded and walked out. She was tired of this.
*
Ruth stood alone in the Light Red’s side lounge. For the sixth time she put on her featureless black mask, this time to stay. She was not here to exchange emotions.
A knock came. Quiet, uneven. Jaesa, conducting the prisoner.
“Come,” Ruth barked.
Quinn walked in.
He was in a clean uniform. Unbruised, faultless posture, neat hair. He had shaved, and slightly scented—what did he think this was going to be?
He bowed silently, and took up parade rest with his hands behind his back, and stared at her.
“I've signed your transfer,” she said. “A recommendation will follow. I realize that because I hurt you you're going to call me a threat to the Empire and come after me, sooner or later. I give you your freedom anyway. Maybe this time you'll be wise.”
Then she silenced herself. What would he say after a month in the makeshift brig?
“My lord, if I offered to serve you in truth? Knowing all that we are together—"
“I'd spit in your eye.” Of course he hadn’t apologized. Then again, why would he? He'd been right. Only hard people survived. “You will never be with me again.”
“Then why am I here, my lord?”
“One question.”
Quinn didn’t move.
“Did you speak a word to Darth Baras about my father?”
He looked hunted, but his voice was level. “Why do you think I avoided meeting him for so long? I told Baras he should save your father for last. That he wasn't significant. That no one would miss him. I lied, to both sides, when I was too far in for it to matter. And for all that, I didn't save him. Yes. I spoke of your father to Baras. Do what you will.”
Ruth quivered with the darkness. She should have killed him already. But a more vicious kind of vengeance came to mind. Something to punish him for longer than a lightsaber's cut.
“The thing is,” she said coldly. “my father will never know his grandchild.” Some sick cosmic humor stretched her mouth. “Congratulations.”
“I know,” he rasped.
Her enjoyment curdled. “You what?”
“It's a boy. A son. He will live at least to age twelve.”
“How are you…”
“My lord, what did the Voss show you? Did it come true?”
Her head spun. “The words Baras taunted me with…”
“Our son was just learning what happened between us. He was very upset with me.”
Why would her son be talking to Quinn? “Was I alive?”
“I don't know.”
“How convenient for you.” She tried to stop, and couldn't. She was grateful for the mask. “What did he look like?”
“Like me. Something of your eyes, the width of your jaw.”
“Where were you?”
“I don't know.”
She reached up and across. Not to touch, but to grip his collar with the Force. “You must have seen something.”
“He was in clothing like your sparring gear.”
“Was he…like me, then?”
“I would infer as much. I don't know. He held no weapon.”
She squeezed. “I want more. There has to be more!”
He choked and struggled, but there were no more words. Nauseous, she let him drop on his heels. She stared past him while he recovered. “What did I name him?”
“I don't know.”
“Noted.” She forced herself to cool down. “Well, there's only one thing left to say.”
He spoke rapidly. “You have truly come into your own. You must understand that I have always lo—"
She choked him harder that time. “My son won't know what a father is until he goes to school and discovers that all the other children have one.” That time he dropped to his knees. She told him what he should know, when he asked why she kept her child away. “You arrogant fool. I love you. I'll go to my grave loving you. And for that above all I will never forgive you.” From his knees he stared into her eyes, fierce and still maddeningly untamed. “Dismissed.”
He stood stiffly, bowed deeply, and walked out into custody. They would send him on his way, free, and she would tend…a son. Her son. A boy who looked like his father.
Unless Quinn was lying, which he so easily did. He now knew the only advantage he had left: his sponsorship of her child. And the fact that she would listen to him if it was about that.
Yes, he had better go far away. She needed to be alone.
*
A/N. Ruth and Quinn’s ship name is Ruin.
*
Story Index
The Quinncident and other outcomes
So in the SWTOR Sith Warrior storyline, you have three ultimate reactions to how you deal Quinn. You do get the chance to force choked him if you want but only into unconsciousness. The game won't let you kill him.
Instead you
Forgive him completely
Give him a chance but say you don't trust him
Tell him he has one final chance and if he steps out of line you'll destroy him
I just wonder what it would be like if you left him for dead. Quinn wakes up alone on that transponder station after you force choked him. How would he react? Would he realize how badly he fucked up, or would he try and find some way to come after you?
Theron: *betrays my Sith Warrior*
Lana: "..."
Sith Warrior: *interally* "not again"
Lana: "Well Commander, I'd be lying if I said you didn't have a type..."
“For the last time, Quinn - I DUMPED YOU.”
“This is pathetic. Seriously? You betrayed and tried to murder me, Quinn. Popping up uninvited and half-naked in my stronghold will NOT make me change my mind. This is worse than sending a ‘dick pick’ to your ex.”
Yesterday i was playing my personal least favorite class, Sith Marauder (Juggernaut is fun especially Tanking) and now all i wanna do is play it.
To Let Traitors Live
Summary: Quinn makes a bad mistake and gets kicked around like a football for it, which is remarkably merciful as far as Zavi's punishments go. It's the Quinncident, y'all know how this goes by now. Obvious spoiler warning for Chapter 3 of the Sith Warrior storyline is obvious.
Tags: Torture, choking/Force-choking, Force lightning, Zavi’s bad habit of viewing people as Sith property, canon-typical violence, I don’t think this is graphic violence but I’m not totally sure, read at your own discretion, Zavi does get shot but not badly, Quinn gets kicked around like a football but he’s okay in the long run
Find me on AO3 at Dragonheart37!
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Zavi paused as prickles ran up the back of xir neck, an old danger-warning xe was well familiar with. Xe scanned the room, but found nothing obvious to cause it – no people, no droids, not so much as a blinking light that might indicate an explosive. The only other moving thing in the room was Captain Quinn – who, speaking of, hadn't stopped when Zavi had. He'd kept moving further into the room, steps brisk with purpose.
Before xe could do more than raise an eyebrow ridge at this, he stopped and folded his hands behind his back, still facing away from xir. “My lord. I regret that our paths must diverge. Out of respect, I wanted to be here to witness your fate.”
Zavi narrowed xir eyes. “I don't like the sound of that.”
“Your senses always have been keen.” Quinn turned to face xir, face impassive and hard despite the cold, tense dread and anticipation radiating from him that he couldn't hide. “It pains me, but – this entire scenario is a ruse. There's no martial law, and no signal emitter.” The lines around his mouth deepened, and Zavi knew what he would say next before it crossed his lips. “Baras is my true master. He had me lure you here to have you killed.”
Zavi thought about unclipping xir lightsaber from xir belt, but left it there for the moment – the warning prickle at the back of xir neck was still quiet, not yet imminent, and Captain Quinn was a threat xe could handle. “You would betray me now, after all this?” xe asked, low and dangerous. “I have protected you, Captain. I helped you eliminate Moff Broysc. You owe me.”
“You've helped me immensely,” he agreed. “I act today with a heavy heart.” Scripted tripe. “But without Baras, I'd have no career. I owe you, my lord, but I owe him more.” He turned to pace away, not a threat but an inability to keep still released in carefully measured steps. “I didn't want to choose between the two of you. But Baras has forced my hand, and I must side with him. Once you're gone, your crew will either join Baras with me, or be killed.”
Zavi curled xir lip with distaste. “You know who I'm working for now, Captain. If you stand with Baras, you stand against the Emperor himself.”
“The Emperor is an absentee landlord,” Quinn snapped. “Baras is doing what any true patriot would do.” He unfolded his hands from behind him, revealing something in his hand – the warning prickle along Zavi's neck grew in intensity, and xe reached for xir lightsaber as he pressed the button. The door behind him slid open as he spoke, revealing two heavy war droids – specialty models Zavi didn't recognize, lurching forward to stand on either side of Quinn. “After all this time observing you in battle, I have exhaustively noted your strengths and weaknesses,” he continued. “These war droids have been programmed specifically to combat you. I calculate a near zero percent chance of their failure.”
Zavi laughed aloud at that, crimson lightsaber snapping into existence with a vicious hiss. “After all this time observing me, you should know better,” xe sneered. “But then, your confidence in the odds always has been your biggest weakness. You should know by now that the Sith are beyond your petty calculations.”
“If anything, I am underestimating my droids' chances,” Quinn said evenly, though xe tasted fear in the Force. “But I suppose we shall see. You'll find they are virtually immune to you.” He pursed his lips. “I'm sorry it's come to this, my lord.”
Xe barked another laugh, far less amused this time. “Don't waste your breaths on apologizing. You have so few left.”
And the droids opened fire.
The first shots were far too late – xe was gone well before they blasted a smoking crater into the durasteel where xe'd been standing, leaping in an arc up over their heads. They turned to track xir in the full arc, not restricted in vertical movement like most droids, and xe was forced to dodge again, rolling to the side as they fired again. Xe slashed at the nearest one's leg, but xir saber ricocheted off – in the shock of that, xe was slow to dodge the next volley, and heat blazed past xir arm, painfully hot through xir armor.
Zavi hissed, launching xirself again. This time, xir saber carved an arc across the body of the droid as xe passed it in the air to land on the other side – but the damage was superficial, a glowing mark across the reinforced exoskeleton. Cortosis, or something similar – Baras had spared no expense, and neither had Quinn.
Quinn. The skin of xir back went ice cold as if cued by remembering him, and xe rolled forward as a shot darted overhead – not one of the droids, but a blaster pistol. Bastard. Zavi snarled, forced to parry a shot from one of the droids – the force required pulled a guttural noise of rage from xir, and immediately pain seared across xir belly as another blaster shot rang out – glancing, through Zavi's armor, but burning pain nonetheless.
Zavi darted under one of the droids, narrowly avoiding being stabbed by one of its legs, thoughts racing. Quinn had indeed done a good job, as always – the usual weak points on a war droid were reinforced on these, enough to withstand a lightsaber blow, and their shots were both fast and powerful. Already the walls and floor were seeping smoke from pitted wounds where the droids' blasts had punctured the thick durasteel. Even the near miss Zavi had already taken was screaming pain from the heat through xir own armor. One solid hit, one mistake, and this would be over.
Wait.
Xe backed up, watching the droids track xir movements, then launched xirself again before they could be ready to fire, directly at the body of one this time. Instead of attacking and leaping away again, xe clung to it like a burr, too close for it to do more than spin uselessly as it tried to target xir.
The other one, however, had no trouble finding its target. A split-second whine as it prepared to fire, and xe tensed, preparing to leap away again -
A blaster shot, and pain exploded in xir thigh. Xe screamed, in shock as much as pain, and stumbled as xe flung xirself away from the droid just in time, stumbling on the wounded leg as xe hit the floor. The droid xe'd been riding refocused on xir just in time for its fellow's shot to hit it full on with a scream of metal, rending it where Zavi's lightsaber had weakened a seam in the metal. The droid staggered, and for a terrifying moment xe thought it might right itself – but then it toppled, half its legs kicking frantically as the other half collapsed beneath it.
Zavi dared to spare a glance for Quinn, blaster still pointed at xir, and let out a screaming roar, fueled by hatred and rage and pain and accompanied by a blast of Force that knocked him clean off his feet and sent his weapon skittering across the floor. Xe had no further time to spare for him; the second droid was firing again and xe had to roll away, shouting to vent the pain without slowing down. Xe circled the droid, managing not to limp too much, and in a moment of desperate fury gathered the Force to xir and shoved.
It didn't knock the droid over – it was even heavier than it looked – but it did make the next volley go wide, and gave Zavi an idea. Gritting xir teeth against the wrenching agony in xir thigh, xe ran forward, ducking and rolling to slide underneath the droid again – and this time stabbing xir lightsaber straight up overhead, with as much force and Force as xe could muster behind it.
The droid shrieked and threw off sparks, making Zavi shield xir face with an arm as xe scrambled out from beneath the thing, not trusting xir ability to hold it up off xir as it fell. Xe slashed at the gun barrel and took it off for good measure, but the droid was already dead, computer core pierced and destroyed.
When xe was sure it wasn't going to get up again and have another go at xir, xe turned to Quinn.
He'd gotten up and was going for his blaster. Zavi yanked it to xir and flung it to the side; it hit the wall so hard it burst into pieces of metal and sparks. Quinn stared at Zavi with wide, frightened eyes – his fear was palpable in the Force between them, and it did nothing to stem xir pain or xir anger.
He swallowed hard. “I don't – I don't understand,” he stammered. “What went wrong? I calculated precisely, you – you should be dead.”
Zavi took one step forward. Quinn took one back. “You are a fool,” xe hissed. “All your observations, all your calculations, and yet you still don't understand.” Xe took another step forward, and this time he held his ground, apparently realizing there was nowhere to go. “It is useless to defy me.”
The fear staining the Force black only grew as Zavi drew slowly nearer, and yet Quinn managed still to keep it from making his voice shake – he always had been good at that; xe should have realized sooner it would have made him good at deception. He sank to his knees. “My lord,” he started.
Zavi bared xir teeth in a warning. “I do hope you're not thinking of debasing yourself even further by begging for mercy.”
He shook his head. “I have betrayed you,” he said, lowering his head. “Conspired with your most hated enemy. I – I don't expect your mercy.”
Zavi closed the Force around his throat, lifting him off his knees as he grasped instinctively at the choking force. “That,” xe hissed, “is the first intelligent thing you've said today.”
Xe threw him backward with enough force that he slammed against the back wall, knocking the breath out of him with a choked noise before he slid to the floor. Xe stalked toward him, closing the distance at an almost leisurely pace, in no rush now that there was no further threat. No, mercy was not a word xe found in xir vocabulary today – xir wounds burned as xe moved, and the pain only fueled xir anger further. The droids had been some challenge, but droids weren’t satisfying prey – droids didn’t feel pain or fear, didn’t feed Zavi’s bloodthirst, much less sate it.
Quinn got up to one knee before Zavi lashed out again, snatching and flinging him with the Force in one movement, sending him tumbling across the floor. His ribs, already bruised from the first impact, threw out pangs of pain as they cracked under the blow, and Zavi drew them to xirself, reveling in it. Xe coiled Force around his throat and squeezed, lifting him off the floor – his stifled fear cracked and bled panic, an instinctive terror too deep to suppress. He clutched at his throat, legs kicking instinctively – xe bared xir teeth in something between a smile and a snarl at the panic and fear staining the Force around them. He would fight back, betray his lord? Then xe would remind him why the Sith reigned rightfully supreme.
It was only when his movements started to grow more feeble and the light of his consciousness started to flicker that xe dropped him again. He crumpled, coughing and gasping, and Zavi circled him at a distance, hissing fury between xir teeth until Quinn finally recovered enough to hear xir properly.
“Did you think me an idiot?” Zavi asked. “Did you think you were stronger than a Sith lord?”
Quinn opened his mouth as if to answer, and xe snarled, throwing out xir hands toward him. Rage and hatred boiled under xir skin, lit paths of fire down xir nerves and exploded from xir fingers in brilliant crimson light that arced to his body and killed whatever he was going to say before it could leave his lips, twisting it into a pained cry as his body convulsed. Xe swallowed his pain and demanded more, held the lightning until xir arms shook.
“Did you think,” xe hissed, “that you could defeat me?”
Xe let the lightning subside and Quinn slumped to the floor, body shuddering and twitching from the aftereffects as he lay prone. Zavi stalked around him again, restrained fury driving xir to restless pacing, as he struggled to bring his limbs underneath him again and push himself slowly up to hands and knees.
Xir boot came down on the back of his neck, forcing him back down with his cheek pressed against the floor. Xe curled xir lip at him as he struggled for breath. “I don't recall giving you permission to get up.”
His chest heaved, pulse racing under the press of the hard leather – xe couldn't feel it through the war boots, of course, but the Force was as attentive as always – but he didn't try to move again. Zavi watched him gasp for air for a moment, supply limited but not choked off completely by the pressure from xir boot on his neck, and took a few deep breaths xirself to reorder xir thoughts.
The urge to wring his life from his miserable body was undeniably strong, the Force singing for blood still – but Zavi was the master of xir emotions, not the other way around, and logic made xir hesitate to rend him limb from limb just yet. Much as xe would have liked to crush his bones and bleed him dry, to make him suffer for this betrayal, something gave xir pause as xe looked down at him, helpless at xir feet.
“You make a unique problem, Captain,” xe admitted, watching his face as he silently fought for breath. “Up to this point, you have been exceptionally useful to me. It would be a shame to lose you now, when my fight is coming to its peak. But to allow a traitor to live?” Xe clucked xir tongue. “It simply isn't done. Nor am I personally inclined to ideals so impotent as forgiveness.”
Xe released him, turning away as xe spoke. “On the other hand, you may yet be useful to me. And to face my dear master with the very soldier he tried to use against me at my side...” Xir lips curled in a twisted smile at the thought. “It does ring of poetic justice, doesn't it? After all, what is his shall belong to me by rights soon enough. Why not make a point of starting early?”
Zavi turned back to Quinn, examining him. He hadn't tried to get up this time, not even to hands and knees – had simply shifted himself enough to turn the awkwardly pinned posture into true prostration, kneeling with his forehead pressed to the floor, palms flat beside his head. He didn't try to answer, either, apparently realizing it was a rhetorical question. He always had known when to shut up and quietly put himself at xir mercy like a good Imperial.
“No, I don't think Baras would like that at all,” xe mused. “What disrespect, to allow his would-be assassin to live.” Xe smiled coldly down at Quinn. “What outrage, to make his most useful toy mine.” Xe tilted xir head. “And what do you think, Captain? You've always been so delightfully adherent to tradition and custom. What do you make of my new dilemma?”
He hesitated. “Darth Baras would never forgive such a failure, my lord,” he said slowly, not daring to look up at xir. “Most Sith would not. But... your assessment of his reactions is likely accurate. It would make a point.”
Zavi smiled again, mirthless this time. “Not even going to try to convince me to spare you?”
“You asked for my honest assessment, not to be convinced, my lord. I didn't think it would be appreciated.”
“I do appreciate an Imperial who knows not to overstep his bounds.” Xe considered him for a moment. “Sit up, then, and say what you will in your defense.”
Quinn sat up to his knees, raising his head. “My lord, I... if you will permit me to stay in your charge, my dedication to you will never come into question again. I swear it.”
“Pretty words, but I've heard them from your lips before. It didn't prevent this betrayal.”
He swallowed. “I will do my utmost to make up for it, my lord. I know I don't deserve your mercy, but should you choose to grant it, you will have my service for life. You will never find a more faithful servant. The loyalty that forced my hand today belongs to you now.” He bowed his head again in deference. “My life is in your hands, my lord – as it always was; I see that now. I was a fool to ever stand against you.”
Zavi reached toward his mind and pushed, brushing aside what little resistance his disciplined mind afforded him with barely an effort – he wasn't trying to stop xir from looking. His words rang true; even as his mind was tense with fear, there was clawing regret and deep devotion there that xe had felt from him before. This time Zavi went looking for its source, and found only xirself as xe existed in his mind – a burning god of crimson and gold, power and glory demanding the awe and fear of those beneath xir. Quite the flattering image. He was aware of xir flaws – had used them against xir today – but they were overwhelmed by xir virtues in his mind, which was just as well.
And Baras – Baras had been banished to a shadow in his mind, surrounded by fear and dread, but connected to that undercurrent of loyalty only by the thinnest remaining strands. For a moment, Zavi was tempted to snap them xirself – but xe had never been good at manipulating minds, and to break him now with unintended consequences of an apparently small change would be an utter waste.
So instead xe withdrew, satisfied with what xe had seen, and said coldly, “I will keep you alive today, Captain, and we shall see if you can regain my trust. But,” xe continued, holding up a finger to stop him from responding as he looked up, eyes wide. “Your life is now on a timer, Malavai Quinn. I cannot afford to replace you at this moment, but when Baras dies, I will have time on my hands to re-address this again.” Xe narrowed xir eyes at him. “You have a silver tongue, Captain, but it will not save you forever. You had best hope you can prove yourself both loyal and useful to me by the day your timer runs out. And if I ever think you will betray me again...”
“I understand, my lord,” he said, bowing his head to xir. “I am most grateful for the chance to redeem myself. I will not repeat my mistakes, I swear it.”
“We shall see.” Xe flicked xir fingers at him, clipping xir lightsaber back onto xir belt. “Get up. We're going back to the ship.”
He obeyed, moving to fall in beside and behind Zavi – xe stopped him with an outstretched hand and a cold stare. He flushed with embarrassment but reluctantly turned to walk in front of xir, more a prisoner than a companion now as they returned. At least with him in front of xir, not watching, Zavi could allow xirself to favor xir leg a little more, still trying to bleed the pain into the Force and ignore it. It wouldn’t cripple xir - if it were going to, it would have already - but it was painful.
What a bother. And now xe had to sort out how to inform the crew without causing anarchy. Pierce would try to undermine Quinn immediately, and perhaps xe would even let him for once. Vette would be hopelessly obnoxious about it. Most problematic, they would no longer trust him - they would be uneasy every time Zavi took advice from him, and that could undermine xir authority.
Xe resisted the urge to sigh. This is why Sith don’t let traitors live.
I fucking love that "Quinncident" is a recognizable thing in this fandom. If you've gotten there, or seen it, you know what the fuck is up, but without that knowledge it's just a spoilerless way of acknowledging what goes down in the Sith Warrior storyline. No explanation needed. It's self explanatory.
Quinncident.
Fuckin amazing.