Arlys stomped back through the Promenade, the ring held tightly in her hand, ignoring the sounds of chaos from the cantina behind her. It no longer mattered. This was a dead end. No one there had known anything about the message sent to her. She had hoped that there would at least be some sort of ambush for her to vent some of her rage on, but no. Whoever it was had just been taunting her. It was infuriating to know that the person was still out there somewhere. She should probably tell Quinn, let him work his magic and hunt down the source— She stopped that train of thought and the mix of emotions that accompanied it. Rage was easier than thinking about that whole mess, and as childish as it was, ignoring Quinn was easier than figuring out what she was supposed to do with it all. There was time to deal with it later, she told herself, pulling the rage up around her as if it could shield her.

"Master, I'm confused," Jaesa said from behind her. "Was it really necessary to destroy the artifacts the auctioneer was selling?"

Arlys didn't even bother responding.

"And I noticed you didn't actually kill anyone despite the rather spectacular explosion you caused in the main room," Jaesa persisted.

Arlys gritted her teeth. "Our target wasn't there."

"Perhaps if you told me what we were looking for—"

"I'll tell you when you need to know," Arlys snarled, cutting her off.

They were silent for a time.

"My Lord," Jaesa began.

Arlys was about ready to blow something else up, but before she could say or do anything, Jaesa continued,

"I've just got word from the others. The ship has been attacked."

Arlys' blood ran cold for a moment, a sudden and completely unwelcome wave of concern for the others overriding everything else. She smothered it, like she always did, with the rage. Someone attacked her ship, her crew, and they needed to die. She was too preoccupied with that to wonder if it was connected with the auction.

Quinn knew nothing except for the pain and the screaming. It wrapped around him, invaded every part of him, chasing away all thought. It felt like he was being ripped apart all at once and he could do nothing except wait and hope death claimed him soon. Finally it stopped and he found himself lying on the floor curled in on himself. The rawness of his throat as he gasped for air told him the screaming had been his own.

"Make this easy on yourself," he heard Draahg say somewhere nearby. He was too tired to look up and find the source. "If you tell me where she is, I might even let you serve me for a time."

He was talking about Arlys. He wanted to hurt her.

Quinn had betrayed her once before. He still remembered her face, the confusion and the hurt when he had revealed his treachery. He had been selfish, allowing himself to grow close to her. Why? Because he was afraid of Darth Baras' wrath should he fail? Because Quinn was cruel enough to want to steal a short time of happiness with her before he tore her heart out? The least he could do after all of that was allow Arlys her revenge, so he had played the part of the villain. He had gloated and postured like Baras would have so she could kill him without remorse, but she hadn't. She had spared him. He saw the rage and the hatred in her eyes and he knew she would never forgive him, but it didn't matter. He would spend the rest of his life making sure no one could betray her again.

Quinn was having trouble controlling his muscles, but with the wall for support, he managed to drag himself to his feet and stand at attention or at least something vaguely like it.

"So be it," Draahg sneered and raised a hand.

Quinn's world descended into agony once again.

By the time they finally reached the ship Arlys was beyond furious, the Force emanating from her like a heat haze. The news that they had been attacked in her absence was bad enough, but the infuriating roundabout way she had had to take to meet up with everyone again, apparently to avoid drawing attention, had burned away what little was left of her patience. Pierce, Vette, and Broonmark were waiting for her, all looking apprehensive. Vette was half hiding behind Broonmark.

"Who was it?" she demanded, fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. She paused a moment, scanning the room, then added, "And where's Quinn?"

Their silence was answer enough. For a moment she wavered, her carefully constructed mask of indifference threatening to snap, an icy terror overwhelming her as she realized he could already be dead. She clenched her fists even tighter, pulling up her rage, feeding the Force and letting it burn through her all the brighter. She couldn't think of any of that now. She had to move, to fight and kill and get him back if he was even still alive, get revenge if he wasn't.

"Who?" she repeated, eyes flashing red.

"Draahg attacked, captured Quinn when he left," Pierce said.

"Where is he?" she demanded, already turning to leave the ship again. She couldn't even be surprised that Draahg was somehow back. It seemed he was destined to plague her forever.

"Already left the station, my lord," Pierce replied.

"He lured us here," Vette said, poking her head tentatively around Broonmark. "Quinn thought something was up so he was looking into it before we were attacked. Thanks to him we have some places to look," she finished hurriedly as Arlys turned that hard stare on her.

"We leave immediately," Arlys said.

"Of course, my lord." Jaesa moved towards the bridge, gesturing for Vette to follow.

"Well that was terrifying," Vette said once they were out of earshot.

"She's worried about Quinn," Jaesa said. "I don't know what happened between them, but she doesn't want to lose him."

"Right," Vette muttered. "Let's hurry and get Captain Killjoy back then. It was bad enough when they weren't talking. I'd rather not see what she's like if he's dies."