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The Empire seemed bigger than he remembered. Quinn had been staring at the list of available captain posts for the better part of the day, watching near mesmerized as it updated in real time with countless possibilities. When he had imagined being transferred in the past, he had never been paralyzed with indecision. To be fair, the choice had so rarely been his to make, even in those daydreams. He was a military man, used to receiving orders and following through. He was not used to freedom.
Quinn sighed, rubbing his temple as he poured himself a second glass of brandy. Frustrating and all-consuming as the decision was, he was more relaxed than he had been in almost a decade. And yet… he ran his fingers over the rim of the glass, watching the screen update once more, without truly seeing it. The alcohol was pushing his thoughts to wry smiles on bow lips and long dirty blonde hair.
He couldn’t lie to himself—his indecision was partially influenced by her, Baras’ apprentice, Persefeni, by some vain hope that she would reappear on Baras’ behalf. It had become part of his routine to see her every few days, dusty and worn from fighting, but never so tired that she would turn down a drink or discuss her mission with him. She was good at chess, he had learned, and very inclined to cheating, as Vette, her Twi’lek companion, had warned him. Her accent was decidedly Kaasian, but with a slight lilt that indicated it was crafted, not natural. From her conversations with Vette, he could gather that she was not the galaxy’s best pilot. She was intriguing, intimidating, and quick-witted—more so than him, which didn’t happen often. But it had been more than a week since he had last seen her.
He would likely never see her again.
So, why could he not get her voice out of his head?
It wasn’t that he was starved for female companionship. Everyone in Sobrik sought comfort in the arms of others, and he was not modest enough discount his own good looks. But he was also realistic—there was not a Sith in the galaxy who would choose more than a dalliance with an Imperial. And he was past the point in his life when he would be satisfied with that.
Quinn grunted in disgust at himself and deliberately refreshed the captaincy listings in front of him. The past few weeks had been a memorable diversion, no more. There would be more memorable moments in his future, surely.
He could begin by eliminating placements on Hoth and Tatooine—he didn’t know who would choose a posting there. Probably the same faction who would choose one of the vacant postings on Korriban, he thought to himself as he minimized that window with a small shudder. In fact, he could eliminate all planetary postings— working aboard a dreadnought would mean seeing multiple worlds; that was far preferable after being marooned here. He smiled at the thought at being back abroad a fleetship—that was where he had intended to be for the entirety of his career, after all. But the thought of long months in the blackness of space no longer excited him.
He could take a post back on Dromund Kaas—the best choice, logically, to repair the damage to his reputation that Broysc had sown at the Navy’s headquarters, and he’d be close to his parents and siblings for the first time in a decade. He and Minder Thirty Seven (or whatever title his brother held these days) could get caf together in the mornings again. But the prospect of doing nothing but training new recruits and dealing with politicians made his eyes roll back in his head—and the Quinn family loved each other best at a distance.
His holocom blinked and he answered it without checking the frequency.
“Captain Quinn, receiving your transmission.”
“Enjoying your new title, Quinn?”
He jumped at the voice emerging from the speakers as Baras’ form flickered into being above his desk. Quinn stood quickly, redoing the buttons of his jacket and hoping Baras could not sense the amount of alcohol he had ingested.
“I apologize profusely, my lord.”
“I’ll forgive your familiar greeting, Captain. I noticed that your transfer paperwork has not been submitted yet. The anticipation may kill me: have you decided to remain on Balmorra? Or have I missed the notice?”
“No, my lord. I’m… trying to make the best use of the opportunity you’ve given me.”
Baras laughed, “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t expect less of you than the tireless examination of all eventualities, Captain.”
Quinn swallowed. “Do you have a preference for the post I should take?” If Baras provided him a direction, he would take it. It was far simpler that way, and the Darth had been his guide in the past.
“Of course not, Quinn. As I told you, your debt to me is repaid. You stopped an amateurish mistake by my apprentice from becoming an irreversible catastrophe.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Though I expect that to stay between us— her mistakes are few, but I would not lose my apprentice to such foolishness, nor, more importantly, have my network exposed.”
“Of course, my lord. I am sure Persefeni will not repeat that mistake.”
“Yes, she is a fast learner, isn’t she? Although too willing to lend an ear to that Twi’lek of hers. A pity she doesn’t have a more experienced advisor— or at least a human one. But she will learn, or fail and die, I suppose.”
“Yes, my lord.” That was the Sith way. It was how the Empire succeeded where the Republic failed, time and again. Quinn knew that. So, why did the thought of Persefeni suffering those consequences fill him with what could only be called dread?
“Well, I suppose it’s not your concern, Captain. You’ll decide on where you’ll be transferring soon, I trust— if you return to Dromund Kaas, do let me know. If you catch the shuttle that leaves tomorrow, you might even bump into Persefeni at the spaceport.”
Quinn frowned, “I thought she had already departed, my lord?”
“Darth Lachris had her remain on for a few days after her defeat of Cheketta. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be so amendable, but it should help establish her presence on the battlefield and further obscure Rylon. In addition, it should give her an appreciation for my flexible nature as her master.”
Quinn could not tell if Baras was joking or not, and he was grateful when the Darth cut the transmission off soon afterward, leaving him to lean back in his chair, once again watching the scroll of posting pass in front of his eyes.
He packed quickly the next morning—the shuttle to Dromund Kaas left promptly each day and Quinn told himself he was going to catch that. After all, he didn’t have to take a post there—he could research where to go next from the comfort of a restaurant in Kaas City as well as he could under the sounds of artillery fire. And yet, he could not stop himself asking the protocol droid if the ship docked under the clearance code he had been given when she had first arrived was still there, and his heart leapt when the droid confirmed that the Fury-class starship was scheduled to depart in an hour.
He could say goodbye to her, then. Perhaps when she was next on Dromund Kaas, they would bump into each other. She wouldn’t be hard to spot—a Sith with a Twi’lek companion would cause gossip no matter where in Imperial space she went, but especially in Kaas City. Surely, she knew that—but he remembered how she pronounced her vowels, how her laugh would sometimes break her refined accent. Perhaps she didn’t know. Perhaps she didn’t care. He wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.
Quinn found a spot in the hanger that was out of the mechanics’ way, dropping his duffel bags at his feet and making sure his uniform was straight. He watched as one of the mechanics adjusted the shocks of one of the feet, a clear sign that the craft landed roughly. He suppressed a small smile, and then heard quiet footsteps behind him.
He knew it was her, and he couldn’t lie to himself about why he was there in her hanger anymore. He could tell himself it was because she needed him—he had navigated the waters of Imperial politics longer than she had, had more experience working with average Imperial troops, could make sure the injuries she sustained on the battlefield never slowed her. But it was more than that—he didn’t want to go to anywhere else.
He wanted to serve her.
Persefeni was on guard, he realized, her hand shifting just slightly as he turned, seeing Vette’s hand rested on one of her blasters as well. Quinn swallowed—he hadn’t thought his presence would be unwelcome.
“My lord, I hope you don’t find my presence here obtrusive. I beg an audience.”
“Begging does not become an officer, Quinn,” Persefeni visibly relaxed, though Vette’s hand stayed put as she watched him.
“I chose my words poorly. I wish to speak to you, before you go.”
Persefeni gestured for him to continue, and he began to pace, the measured steps helping to steady his words, “As you know, Darth Baras enabled my reassignment anywhere I choose. It is an evolution I’ve longed for but assumed would never come. Aiding your mission on this planet has reawakened the ambition I began my career with—to make the most profound impact possible for the Empire.”
“We share the same desire, then, Captain.”
“I cannot think of a more glorious and honorable way to serve the galaxy then to serve you. I’m here to pledge myself to you. I’m ready and willing to serve, in whatever capacity you see fit.” Quinn knelt—it seemed both too formal and not formal enough a gesture.
“Whatever capacity I see fit?” Persefeni’s voice had taken on the same teasing tone she had spoken with in his old offices and he hoped the flush he felt was not showing on his face. “How exciting.”
“I was thinking nauseating,” said Vette, as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
“She thinks she’s funny,” said Persefeni, as she mimicked Vette’s posture. The Twi’lek stuck out her tongue like a child, but Quinn spoke before she could.
“My lord, if given the chance, I will prove myself to you. I’m a top-notch pilot, a military strategist, and a deadly shot. I can fly this ship, plan your battles, assess your enemies, and kill them. You won’t find a more tireless and loyal subject.” He was near babbling, but he couldn’t help himself. If she said no, he had no idea where he would go.
Persefeni smiled, holding up her hand to stem the flood of words, “You’ve already proven your skills to me, Quinn. I would be pleased to have you.”
“The pleasure will be mine,” he said, rising to his full height once again, “I will submit my reassignment papers as we depart.” The smile that raised his lips felt like it might crack his face open—he had not remembered how good it felt to smile like this.
“If it means that you never pilot again, my lord, I’m happy,” said Vette, as she grabbed one of Quinn’s bags from where it sat at his feet, “And hey, this brings our peaceful departures from a planet we’ve been back to an even zero!”
Quinn lifted his second bag, shooting a curious look after Persefeni, “Do I want to know?”
Vette waved a hand dismissively as the two of them followed Persefeni up the gangplank, “Let’s just say that some people have no idea how to repay a favor. I mean, the classic would be a fruit basket, but sometimes, people think it’s a better idea to send really dumb assassins.”
Persefeni smiled at him as she opened the door of the ship, “Get used to long-winded versions of our adventures, Captain. You’ll be hearing a lot of them.”