The irreverent, episodic story was, for a long time, the canonical followup to Ruth Means Compassion. KotFE/ET changed that, but Captain, Cipher, Soldier, Spy, a loosely associated collection of short scenes with no particular endpoint, remains dear to my heart.
The remainder of this description contains spoilers for the end of Ruth Means Compassion.
Cut adrift without direction after the destruction of the Emperor, Wynston takes up galaxy-saving on the stolen Aegis and Quinn, dealing with his own problems, joins him in honor of Ruth’s mission. It’s a buddy cop story for the ages.
(SWTOR Forums) (PDF)
This story example is long, but illustrates the relationships pretty well (Rylon is Ruth and Quinn’s son, Pierce Junior is self-explanatory):
“If you say anything,” murmured Wynston, “I will kill you.”
Quinn smiled almost playfully while he stretched, enjoying the ambient steam’s play over his bare chest and back. “And what part of that is new?”
The Chiss hadn’t backed away yet. His gaze trailed downward while he set his hands on Quinn’s chest and ran slowly toward the tantalizing progression of his abs. “Everything,” he growled.
When Quinn stepped closer Wynston kissed him hard, eyes like living embers burning at the tragic shadows Quinn had held for so long, as if one night could make up for all. Those long-fingered blue hands traced, explored, searched, until Quinn gasped softly and pushed Wynston into the wall.
Quinn held the smaller man there, enjoying his slight deliberate struggle as it defined each shifting muscle in glistening highlight and sapphire shadow. He leaned in close. “We should resolve more of our disputes this way.”
With a knowing smile Wynston slipped one arm free and, rooting his hand in Quinn’s thick black hair, pulled him even closer. He nipped his ear, a hot sharp sting with a flick of tongue. “I told you not to say anything.”
“So stop me.”
…The narration on the loudspeakers, as read off by a deep and theatrical voice, continued in this fictional vein with no sign of stopping.
Then the door to the Aegis’s main comms room slammed inward, the blowtorch sputtering out now that the fused hinges had been cut free.
“Junior,” panted Wynston, throwing his mask aside. “What. The hell. Is that.”
A small holo image of a panicked-looking Rylon was being projected next to the main console. Pierce Junior stood next to it, one foot on the adjacent chair, grinning at the text-scrolling console beside him, the shipwide announcement system microphone before him, and Wynston.
“It’ll stop, and I’ll let mini-Quinn there out of that room I locked him in, as soon as he agrees to bring me on his Korriban diplomacy run. If he’s going to meet Darth Irrex? Hell if I’m not getting me some of that.”
“You’re going to blow the Academy up and start a war or something,” yelped Rylon. “Dad told me specifically not to let you anywhere near Korriban no matter what.”
Junior beamed at Wynston. “I was just persuading him. He gives me what I want, I stop reading out loud.”
“Rylon,” said Wynston, “you were allowed to cave to that demand.”
Quinn entered at a full sprint, stopping just shy of the opposite wall before spinning. “Pierce, you are depraved.”
“Rylon could’ve stopped it at any time,” Junior said cheerfully.
“Dad, he was going to wreck Korriban. You always told me to stick to what’s needed, no matter the cost.”
“Not ever hearing that was needed, Rylon,” shouted Quinn. “Merely unleashing Pierce Junior on the irreplaceable-history-laden stronghold of the Sith during this time of critical diplomatic and strategic delicacy was an acceptable cost. That should be common sense!”
“You taught me not to give in. It was a matter of principle,” Rylon said unhappily. “Really painful principle.”
“Any principle you have,” snarled Wynston, “stops where the cerulean contours of my lithe but powerful body start, is that clear?”
“I hadn’t even gotten to the good parts,” said Junior.
“Why would you even torture him with that?” demanded Quinn. “Couldn’t you just break his bones or cut him open like any normal person?”
“Thanks, Dad,” muttered Rylon.
“Some trauma is more easily repaired than others, Rylon,” scowled Quinn.
“Torturing a Sith in person probably ends with me getting choked to death.” Junior shrugged. “Your boy can’t choke via holo yet so I figured I’d trap him and torment him from here, and as for the subject matter, well, didn’t have anything more painful ready to hand.”
“But you had that ready to hand,” Quinn said disbelievingly.
“You wrote that,” accused Wynston.
“You’re confined to the brig,” said Quinn.
“You’re fired,” said Wynston.
“You two are cute when you’re mad,” said Junior. “Didn’t even think you were in today, but I’m starting to think it’s more fun that you are.”
“You’re dead,” said Quinn and Wynston.
“What I am,” said Junior, “is going to Korriban, usin’ your son’s clearance, to meet a legendarily attractive Sith Lord.”
“I’m not gonna fight that anymore,” said Rylon.
“That’s what I thought.” Junior pressed the control release for Rylon’s holding cell and then headed out with a swing in his step.
Quinn drew his blaster and leveled at the console that was still scrolling Junior’s story. He didn’t look at Wynston out of the corner of his eye. Much.
Wynston drew his blaster and leveled at the console that was still scrolling Junior’s story. He didn’t look at Quinn out of the corner of his eye. Much.
They fired until their respective ion cells gave out. And then, without looking at each other, they turned around and left.
(SWTOR Forums) (PDF)
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