Morgan let his spear fly the moment Marr came close, watching the man move to the side. But this was less a spear than the idea of it, so Morgan narrowed his focus. Forced it to follow, impacting a shield and detonating violently.
Marr was thrown back, stabilising quickly, and didn't seem wounded. Morgan reached for Fate, finding the Darth's resistance no equal to Star's. That didn't mean he could bypass it, let alone break, but it was another thing for the man to keep track of.
The Darth retaliated by manifesting a hand of dark shadow, the same that had kidnapped him before, and Morgan grunted. Shifted his mindset to push backwards, doing so again as it followed. Marr let the hand drop, rolling his shoulder.
"It was a good trap." Morgan said, taking the time to calm his anger. Peace would serve him better, and the clarity better still. "Expensive, but good. Guess I should have expected the ruthlessness from a Dark Council member, though I don't think the admiral knew."
"You were not this talkative in captivity."
Morgan snorted, preparing an attack as Marr did the same. "She's dead, by the way. Another tool thrown away for an attempt at my life. I should feel honored, but honestly, I'm just done with you."
"The Republic will never make peace, not with the Enosis and not with the dreaded Lord Caro."
"Nice non-sequitur. And won't they?" Morgan mused, finishing his attack. A whip of grief, burning as brightly as fire. "We'll see."
The weapon struck and Marr shielded himself, manifesting a steel wall of what Morgan assumed was a memory, then threw something. A dagger, quick enough he had no hope of dodging. Morgan's shield groaned, the first layer shattering, but it held.
Layering. Such a simple concept, but so hard to implement. He could do three, on a good day, and two in combat. Star had found the idea intriguing, helping to test it out, and the outcome was worth the suffering.
Then Marr duplicated himself, somehow, and Morgan narrowed his focus. Ignored the illusions, because all that mattered was intent and the Darth had not doubled that, and struck at the real thing. Which was technically both of them, then neither, and he shook his head.
Morgan struck the whip left then right, skill mattering far less than what he envisioned. The real Marr faded into sight to shield, the copies vanishing, and Morgan was thrown back. By a wave of something he did not see, at that, and he wondered when the Darth had gotten so good at stealth.
Or had he? Morgan focused on his detection, fusing it with the desire to know, and found another attack fading into sight. He braced, feeling it crack his shield but little more, and felt a small grin take over his face.
Nothing, nothing at all, was as good an instructor as real combat.
Morgan hit Marr first, the distance steadily closing as they fought, and Marr twisted aside. Grabbed his arm and snapped it, stepping inside Morgan's guard to shatter the whole appendage. Morgan let himself turn to nothing, materialising a few feet away, and kicked.
Marr went translucent as his defenses showed themselves, and Morgan cracked the man's shield with a blow. It was all about souls, here, so his fist didn't actually have weight behind it, but the essence of righteous rage made it hurt anyway. The Darth tumbled back, creating distance.
"You know." Morgan said, stitching a tear in his side. It was just a representation of where his actual soul was wounded, but all the same. "You aren't quite as good at this as I was expecting."
To his surprise, Marr answered. His tone was gruff, strangely tired but not the least pained. "And you imagine I do this often, do you? Half the Dark Council isn't able to manifest a body, unable to imprint their intent deeply enough, or are too concerned with physical power to care. There was a time the Emperor himself tested their suitability, but standards have slipped as the years passed."
"I remember being dead." Morgan offered. "Mostly. I think it's just my brain trying to make sense of something it can't, because the memory of that place keeps shifting, but I remember. I suppose it would explain why some of this comes naturally."
The Darth gathered the Force around himself, a great pillar of pitch-black water collecting behind him. "Perhaps. But natural or not, you are young."
Morgan skipped away and found himself drawn back in, the wave of not-water washing over him. His soul drowned despite never having needed air, Morgan losing his physical form and being dragged away.
Drowning was not fun. It also wasn't immediately lethal, Morgan corroding the intent within the attack like he'd done with Marr's prison. Separating it, the act almost easy compared to what he'd had to do last time. He slipped through, solidifying his form just in time to intercept a poisoned dagger.
A dagger dripping with vile green liquid. It shattered Morgan's first shield, infecting the second with corrosion laced purpose. Fleshcrafting intent wiped it clean, his very memory of breaking down foreign substances all but obliterating the technique.
Marr slammed into him as he was busy with that, Morgan's attention having slipped away from detection. Just for a moment, but the Darth didn't care about excuses. The man gripped his still reforming shields and shattered them, reaching down deep.
Morgan did the same, and the man had to choose between defence and attack. Inflict damage and risk Morgan getting past his shields, doing god knows what, or abort and guarantee defence.
Darth Marr chose defence. Morgan was surprised enough his attack failed entirely, managing to turn it into a move that created distance. His memory, stories, past experiences. Everything had told him Marr was an aggressive fighter.
It clicked after a moment, Lachris's death flashing in his memory. The man's apprentice, who Morgan had killed by infecting her with a Force-based disease. He wasn't actually capable of doing that here, it was based on fleshcrafting which in turn needed physical proximity, but Marr didn't know that.
Suspected, no doubt, but he wasn't confident enough to take that risk.
"So, just for my own ego, how fair would this match be face to face?"
"I would snap you like kindling." Marr responded. "Now cease your prattling and die."
Morgan slipped away as an actual lightsaber was condensed, feeling the purified nature of the weapon. He knew what a lightsaber was, a tool for killing, but his understanding of it felt shallow compared to the thing he was now facing. And Marr had been a sith for a long time, so he wasn't going to try and contest the solidity of his intent. Not when it came to lightsabers.
And winning would feel good, but it wasn't the point. His sense of time had been getting better, if still somewhat rough, but time didn't actually pass any faster. Someone's perception did, but only if they let themselves relax. And a fight did much, but not that.
He'd need to buy time, that was the point. And a better sense of it meant he could gauge how long had passed, and more important how long Enzo still needed to do his job. Marr could undoubtedly support a fleet, be that as Morgan himself did or otherwise, but the Enosis had isotope-5. He could count on them getting away, if not without losses.
Flying at top non-hyperspace speeds alone would be enough. And if Marr was too busy fighting him to mess with that, all the better.
The Darth came charging at him with murderous intent, fake-lightsaber at the ready. A fake lightsaber that felt more real than a physical one did, at that, so Morgan summoned a sword for himself. One made of Beskar, a material he had spent a fair amount of time on with his artifact training.
A sleek, black sword appeared, and Morgan blocked the overhead strike. Didn't mind the transition to physical combat, since it appeared they were fairly evenly matched when it came to concept-only fighting.
Marr's lightsaber did cut through the sword, which came as both a surprise and not, but not quickly. Morgan's foot kicked out and Marr grunted, breaking contact and skipping back. Looked at Morgan's sword, the crack on it already closing.
Whatever conclusion the Darth came to, it wasn't shared. Morgan smiled and kicked back, using more the memory of it than actual muscles, and felt something approach. They were in the deep Force, here, and Marr didn't seem to have any difficulty moving, but they weren't that deep. Morgan went this far without Star all the time, nevermind with the Other actually there.
And the thing that was coming was distinctly an Elder, so he dived deeper. Dragged himself down until the current inverted, like going too far out at sea. This far was still doable, but pushing it.
Marr followed, never having vanished but growing hazy, and solidified. Morgan didn't really care, bowing politely to the Eye as it blinked at them.
An Eye that deserved capitalization, and Morgan realized he couldn't think of it any other way. Marr had frozen, power poised to strike but clearly hesitating. Morgan was more than happy to take the initiative.
Apologies, great Elder. He sent, the Eye appearing closer. Not moving so much as teleporting, going from house to planet-sized in moments, before shrinking back down. Morgan did his best to ignore that. We did not mean to disrupt your rest. We would offer our apologies as recompense.
A literal offering, at that, and the Elder agreed. The Force shook unlike anything Morgan had experienced, it seemed to freak Marr out something fierce, but Star had warned of that. Nothing more than the ripples of their actions, like a foot stepping into a puddle.
Morgan crafted his regret, using memory and intent, and sent it over. The Eye accepted it, blinking in appreciation, and turned to Marr. Who had clearly been weighing his options, wanting him dead but probably never having seen an Elder before, and didn't speak their language besides.
That was what Morgan hoped, anyway. He'd offered their regret, and if Marr didn't, say if the Darth had no idea he was even supposed to, the Elder would take offence. Kill him, even, if Morgan was particularly lucky.
The Eye blinked again, Morgan was slightly alarmed to interpret that as it crafting time itself, but managed to keep his calm. Only just, but managed it. Marr spent another second hesitating, god knows how long that second took, and fled.
To Morgan's disappointment, the Eye let him. He kept it carefully under control, bowing towards the Elder again. He is rude, great Elder. My apologies. I will leave now, to let you retu-
Do not take me for a fool, Morgan of the Milky Way. Reality split as the Eye became all encompassing, splitting into a thousand-thousand fractions that spiralled into every direction. Its voice thrummed like a thousand heartbeats. You speak our tongue, you are learning our ways, but you are foolish. Young. You wished for me to kill him, to meddle in mortal affairs I care not for.
Morgan thought he knew what it was like to die. To suffer, to be dead and be reborn. Now he was held in the precipice of it, experiencing a hundred ends without ever crossing the threshold. His soul tore into a million fragments, restitched and torn again as his senses rebelled.
It was an experience he could not describe, could scarcely remember even as he formed those very memories, and seconds became eternity. There was only the Eye, only the Elder, and it weighed him as the Force became distant. Weighed his potential, his worth, his friendship with Star and the actions he would yet make.
Go. Do not involve me or my fellow Elders again.
Morgan blinked, finding himself alone. He dragged himself out of the deep Force as his soul reeled, spending precious moments trying and failing to comprehend what had just happened. His soul was fine, uninjured and unchanged, but he remembered.
It was seared in his mind, the all consuming control, and some part of him was hungry for it.
But the rest of him was tired, scared and out of time, so he let himself drift upwards. Returned to his body, Marr having done god knows what in the meantime. It also gave him time to berate himself, because of course that had been a bad idea.
Star might talk fondly of them, in an annoying-parent-figure way, but he hadn't really considered what they were. More powerful, inattentive Others, dangerous with their curiosity but ultimately not meaning ill. A stupid, dangerous assumption to make.
It had let him live, but the Eye very much hadn't been just curious. It had wanted something, though Morgan had no idea what. It had let Marr go, which would fit its neutrality stance, but what else? Why speak to him? Warn him?
Nothing came to mind, and Morgan snapped his eyes open. He was sitting against the wall, still on the bridge, and four bodies loomed over him. Sith. His sith. The man and woman bowed as he climbed to his feet, Morgan speaking even as his voice sounded alien. "How long?"
"Four hours, my Lord."
Four hours. They were alive, so that was something, but…
The souls. There were so few of them, for a moment his mind was pulled back to the Eye, and Morgan closed his senses. Right, better give that some time. "Where's Senior Captain Enzo?"
"Wounded, Lord. Captain Ikkus has assumed command over the survivors."
The survivors. Morgan kept his face impassive. "Is Enzo awake?"
"He is, sir." Ikkus said, having moved closer. Noticed the commotion, probably. "Resting in his quarters. I can give you the sitrep, if you'd prefer?"
The man's voice was calm, but his eyes weren't. It wasn't quite blame, but they were cold. Apathetic, like he'd seen Kala get after their losses on Belsavis. "A short one. Then I'll be helping with the wounded."
"The med bay has that in hand, sir." The captain assured. "Captain Enzo was wounded due to a partial collision, losing his balance and receiving a head wound which led to a dizzy spell. Brain trauma was detected, so he voluntarily stepped down from command. I am now the acting Senior Captain of the first fleet."
"Understood. Continue."
Ikkus did, tone still carefully even. "After the ambush by the Imperial fleet, and after you yourself became unresponsive, Senior Captain Enzo ordered all personnel to return to the ships. Quick exfiltration training saved lives, and we only lost two boarding crews still working on securing the detonation devices. When it became clear they would not make it, the Senior Captain ordered the fleet to maximum speed and away from the enemy, new hyperspace calculations being run all the while."
"Which should have been the end of it. We can outrun them easily with the isotope-5 engines."
"Ordinarily, yes." Ikkus said. "But the enemy dreadnoughts matched us for speed, the most likely explanation being that they have secured their own modified engines. With our fleet still weakened from the previous battle, we could not make enough space to finish our calculations."
"The dreadnoughts separated themselves from their fleet?"
"Yes sir. Once it became clear we would be chased, and with the increased chances of our more damaged ships failing, captain Enzo made the decision to fight. Hoping to overwhelm them, perhaps, though the exact reasoning will have to be asked of him directly."
"I presume that plan failed?"
"It did, and it did not." Pride crept into Ikkus's tone. "The Yamada crippled the first, the seven of our most undamaged destroyers facing the second. Their dreadnoughts had thick plating, they seemed to have more shielding than normal, but we were still winning. Then, as colonel Elarius described, Darth Marr awoke."
Morgan felt his stomach drop. "How long ago?"
"Approximately forty five minutes, my Lord. Our contingent of sith on the bridge combined their power, and I heard that your apprentices nearly managed to rebuff him when they joined, but the Darth won. The Yamada experienced technical failure that was only explained after we pulled apart the console when the battle was done, large parts of the bridge's internal wiring destroyed."
"Which the enemy dreadnoughts took advantage of."
"Which the enemy dreadnoughts took advantage of." Ikkus confirmed. "We do not know the name of the vessel, but it attempted a ramming manoeuvre. It was only partially successful, but captain Enzo sustained his head wound at that time. It was, to be blunt, chaos."
"The end result?"
"The dreadnoughts bought enough time for the rest of Darth Marr's fleet to close the distance, at which point captain Enzo, who was being treated on the bridge, and myself made some difficult decisions. In short, half the First Fleet is gone. The remainder consists of the Yamada, heavily damaged, and eleven destroyers. Forty one remaining frigates, and we have a rough loss calculation of thirty eight percent of our active military strength."
"Half the fleet." Morgan summed up, the Eye pulsing briefly. "More. Half our destroyers, gone. The crews, the captains, the soldiers. Gone."
"Yes sir. We took heavy losses after falling for the ambush."
Morgan grunted. "No need to sugar coat it, captain. This was my expedition, so it is my failure. And I will atone for it, you have my word. I cannot bring back the people lost here, I'm not sure I should even if I could, but they will not have died for nothing. I will not allow them to have died for nothing."
"Understood, Lord." Ikkus replied, posture straightening. "The First Fleet requires a shipyard sooner rather than later. A corporate installation has been identified approximately two jumps away, which we are making our way towards now. The damage we received is slowing us down, as is the evasive route we are taking"
Morgan nodded, staggering as the memory of the Eye flashed in his mind. Ikkus narrowed his eyes and nodded to the sith, who all but escorted Morgan off the bridge and to his chambers. The memory sealed itself again, and he tried his best not to think about it.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Morgan let the airlock open fully before leaving, the half-a-hundred Reborn soldiers behind him marching in formation. Their welcoming party consisted of Hoersch-Kessel Drive security employees, none of them looking particularly confident, and someone who looked like a typical mid-level bureaucrat. The representative.
Jirr interrupted the woman before she could speak, the wookiee towering over everyone else around. His men had paused, snapping to a standstill, and the company's security took an uncertain step back.
"Your CEO, Nella von Yorish, will make time to speak with Lord Caro." Jirr rumbled, the representative he was speaking to swallowing. The wookiee narrowed his eyes when no immediate reply came. "Now."
"O-Of course."
Brushing past, and barking at his men to continue, Jirr moved on. Following Morgan, because he hadn't stopped walking. His fleet was broken, his people were low on morale and this station offered a solution to both. Whether Nella was feeling like it or not, those issues were going to be resolved right here.
Carrot or stick. A large number of angry, depressed soldiers wanting to drown themselves in booze, along with a very nice bonus for fixing his ships, or the pissed off sith Lord looking to vent. Personally, he'd go for the former.
But you never knew with the corporate types, so Jirr was there to be a physically impressive backdrop. And if the wookiee was good at anything, it was anticipating what he was needed for.
Four lifts and some walking, along with an impressive view of his wrecked fleet, and Morgan was coming up on her office. A word from Jirr and soldiers were shepherding people away, which was exactly the sort of heavy handedness Morgan was looking for, and the wookiee literally barged inside the woman's office.
Then stepped aside and saluted, allowing Morgan entry, and his mood lifted for the first time in nearly a week. A week of waiting on emergency repairs, doing careful hyperspace jumps and trying their best to lose a pissed-off Marr.
That sinking feeling was back, the guilt and self-doubt, but he pushed it down. Let it be washed away under the peace, the reasoning that it was for the greater good. Morgan didn't let himself go down the rabbit hole of lesser and greater evil, nor morality in general. This needed to be done, and one defeat wouldn't see him scurrying away with his tail between his legs.
Nella von Yorish was still seated behind her desk, doing a good job at appearing calm, but Morgan could feel the fear in her anyway. He ignored it, nodding in greeting as the woman rose gracefully.
Someone who valued their appearance, Morgan determined. Older, over fifty, but with smooth skin and luscious hair. His senses reached out and flesh whispered its secrets, another new development since his prison time.
Now it told a story of surgery and implants, aimed at both the appearance and effect of youth. Career driven, by the stress she carried, and seemingly pragmatic from their interaction so far.
That would make this easier.
"My name is Morgan." He said finally, tired of waiting for her to speak. "Lord Caro, if you value titles. My fleet is in need of repairs, my people in need of rest and distraction."
Several emotions flashed through her before she settled on resignation. None of it showed on her face, and she was one of the better actors he'd seen. "Nella, chief executive officer of the Wayward shipyard. A pleasure to meet you. Hoersch-Kessel Drive inc is always happy to discuss business with new customers, especially on one of our more experimental stations. What kind of repairs are you looking for?"
"Hull and plating damage, internal wiring, replacement of consoles and much more. The kind you need after battle, in other words." Morgan answered. "How long will it take to repair eleven Terminus and S-class destroyers, forty one Imperial frigates and a harrower-class dreadnought, along with a number of modified civilian freighters? Do you carry military-grade ammunition?"
Nella paused, clearly running the numbers in her head, and Morgan's opinion of her rose. "It depends on the extent of the damage. The frigates will fit in our regular docks, that won't be an issue, but we only have one capable of housing a destroyer-class vessel. Repairs can be done outside one, but that will take longer. A dreadnought won't fit, not in what we have. Repair barges can be deployed. And we carry the only munitions we are allowed to according to Republic regulation, officially speaking. Unofficially, we likely have what you need."
"How long?"
"Weeks." Nella said. "More depending on the damage. There is the issue of both security and payment, my Lord."
"You've dealt with sith Lords before?"
"Once. But you are not that, Lord Caro. Not a typical one."
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "You know of me. Then you know I keep my word, and the Enosis will pay its debts. We are being hunted, but proper care was taken when we fled. Communications have been blocked since the moment we entered your system, a measure I'm going to have to insist on for the duration of our stay here, and no one leaves before we do."
"That's an imposition. People won't be happy."
"Thirty eight thousand, five hundred and eleven of my people are dead." Morgan wrapped the Force around himself, intent seeping through the room. She stiffened. "I am willing to be generous, Nella von Yorish, but make no mistake. My people will be cared for, their recuperation as secure as I can make it. You and your people will be compensated for the inconvenience, but it is happening."
He released the Force, Nella's breathing a touch quicker. "Yes, of course. I never meant to imply we are unwilling to assist."
"Good. My own people will be ensuring security, both for the docks and the repair barges, and I would advise you to impress the foolishness of sabotage on your people. Payment will be transferred when the Enosis can arrange safe transport for it."
That didn't seem to be a pleasing statement, but Nella didn't complain. "Please understand that we mostly deal with civilian crafts. Pleasure ships and merchant haulers, that sort of thing. We do have a few military contracts for smaller governments, but nothing more. Your own engineers would be welcome to join ours for the restoration."
Morgan nodded, already planning on doing that anyway. She offered so she'd be less likely to be blamed if something went wrong, but that was immaterial. Concerning the contracts, though.
"The vessels currently being repaired will have to wait." He said. "This takes priority."
Nella smiled, inclining her head, and Morgan felt her irritation be tempered by fear. Good enough. "Of course, my Lord. The Hoersch-Kessel Drive corporation always aims to ensure positive business relations are established."
Meaning they wouldn't bitch as much as they might have because the Enosis was a big potential client. Pragmatic indeed.
"One last thing." He said. "Our records insisted it is not the case, but I will say this regardless. If me or my people find any slaves, be they obvious or indentured, there will be a problem. A large one."
The CEO shook her head. "We do business with the Republic, even out here in Wild Space. No slaves of any kind are allowed on the station."
He nodded, waving to Jirr. The wookiee stepped up, a broad smile on his face and a datapad in his hand, and Morgan made towards the door. "The major here will discuss the details of the contract."
And that was that. Morgan left the office and half the men accompanied him back to the Yamada, or at least the shuttle bringing him to it, and he waved them back to their major once he was onboard. The wookiee would do a good job, he was somehow certified for negotiations, and Morgan was more than happy to leave the man to it.
Three weeks, if not more. No communications meant nothing towards Vette, either, though he'd contacted her and the wider Enosis shortly before one of their hyperspace jumps when travelling to the shipyard. Perhaps they could create a secure line in time, but for now it left him with no distractions.
Meditation was needed. He had trouble suppressing the memory of the Eye if he didn't.
Exposure therapy, slowly letting himself get used to the imagery. Not the actual memory, he wasn't ready for that, but an echo of it. Nightmares were common, which he hadn't had for a long while, and the one time he'd talked with Star had been almost crippling.
It was the Other that helped him through it, ironically, and had spent a not inconsiderable amount of time chewing him out for bothering an Elder. And not just bother, attempting to use. Lesser meddling might have been forgiven, ignored, but trying to make them kill someone? A mortal, no less?
Morgan shook himself free of that memory, taking a breath. Live and learn, learn and live. No more messing with Elders, they were not simply more powerful Others, and the vision he would get used to in time. Hopefully.
Just another scar on his psyche. Nothing to worry about.
At least he survived. It had been days since the Eye, almost a work week, and things were already improving. A consequence of his fleshcrafting, he had decided, and how deeply it had connected to him. His soul was him, and the art was part of that. Distilled into concepts beyond broken bones or enhanced strength, the very essence of healing. Of change and growth.
A focus, in other words, though he didn't exactly have someone to talk to about this stuff. Star was useless, Marr wasn't likely to entertain the question and that was pretty much everyone he knew that had any experience on the matter.
Three hours of meditation made him feel stable enough to sleep, dropping the pretence of strength in the privacy of his own room, and it took him quickly.
The nightmare came, of the Eye and its thousands of mirror images, and he turned in his sleep. A dream on the verge of lucid, on the verge of understanding, but he jerked awake. Covered in sweat, heartbeat pounding, snapping his head to look to the side.
Because it hadn't been the dream that woke him. Those seemed more than happy to torture him all night long. It was his passive detection, warning him of danger. Warning him about someone dangerous.
A girl, she couldn't be older than seventeen, and holding a knife. Morgan flung her away, the Force going through her as if she was translucent, and all it did was make her stagger. The girl's eyes widened , as if that wasn't supposed to happen, and he sunk into the Force.
Others swam around like sharks trailing blood, none that he knew, and he ignored their forms. A lumbering giant and a globe of water, a cracked stone and a legless spider. They weren't important.
The girl was there, her soul strengthened by five others. Bound by chains of something he could not interpret, strong and clawing. The soul where't there on purpose, clearly. It did, however, betray her identity. And assured him she wasn't physically in his room.
"Darth Nox." Morgan sighed. "I'd heard you claimed a seat on the Dark Council. Can we just not? I'm tired."
The Others circled around them, and the girl giggled. Held out her hand, the lumbering giant moving as if to sniff it, then looked at him. Morgan crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.
The giant moved back, a deep rumble of air leaving its lungs. Nox frowned, looking back at him. "You made them stop playing."
"What?" Morgan opened his mouth, closing it again. "No, actually, what?"
Nox stamped her foot, a wave of Force rolling out. Morgan collapsed a small section of it, letting it pass unaffected. "You made them stop playing! I wanted to keep playing!"
The Eye flashed in his mind, Morgan suppressing a stab of fear. But it never came, and the flash was just a memory of an echo. Nox stamped again, another wave of Force detonating, and Morgan looked at her. Properly looked at her. "How old are you?"
"Old enough to be on the Council." She gloated, sticking her tongue out. It looked rather adorable, really, if it wasn't for the souls writhing in agony around her. She pulled on the connection, the Force swelling into her. "Old enough to kill you. Marr said I had to, but he seemed scared. Stupid Marr. No one should be scared of a pretender that can't even leech souls."
Morgan held up a hand, indicating a pause, and Nox nodded with an exaggerated swing of her head. Her intent-made body was about seventeen, but her soul was younger. Ten? Christ, that was an actual child.
"What'd you do to your body?" He asked, honestly curious. "I'm pretty sure your flesh and blood one looks just like this one, and I'm interested from a fleshcrafting point of view."
Nox beamed. "I learned that! Did the flesh moulding until I looked old enough to graduate, then killed my instructors. Poor, sad Harkun. Thought he could control me, but he was wrong. But I'm still young, so I found friends to help me. Just until I grow into my own power properly, of course. Then I'll let them go."
The souls screamed for death, for mercy and oblivion and an end to their torment, and Morgan looked away. Focused on Nox, the girl tapping her foot impatiently. "Just one more question. What's with the Others? They don't travel in packs."
"Shapy-shapes." Nox corrected. "Cause they change shape. They're here to kill you! I promised them my soul in exchange. Silly shapy-shapes. Can't even tell when they're being lied to."
You follow a mad child? Morgan asked them, bemused. A lying, mad child? She doesn't even speak your tongue.
"Hey! No talking like I'm not here."
Both Morgan and the Others ignored her, which made her lash out, and Morgan dodged the poorly aimed attack. The globe of water sloshed, intent-driven speech uncaring about mediums.
She lies? We tasted no such intent when a bargain was struck.
"Nox?" Morgan asked. The girl nodded at him, having been distracted when the giant shifted to a cloud. "Did you actually mean it when you bargained your soul for my death?"
"Yup! Now I changed my mind. Can we start yet?"
She's definitely lying. Morgan told the assembled Others. Just not back when she made the deal. She's crazy and probably wants to leech you like she's doing to the souls she already has.
Indignation rippled through the crowd, the globe of water taking it the hardest. It lashed out at her, a purple dome of power shielding the girl, and she staggered back. Shot them a betrayed look, pulling her tormented souls close as she hesitated.
Morgan tried to close the distance, to finish her off before she could do something utterly stupid, but the giant-turned-cloud blocked him. Insisted it was their hunt, all but him and the globe already gone.
Nox fled, the Others chasing her, and Morgan exhaled.
What in the actual fuck, and did he want to get involved?
No. The answer was definitely no.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
"Hmmn." Vette mused, watching the figurines on the holo. All six of the men and women stood at attention, and her own face would be shrouded. Having one of the galaxy's premiere slicer groups working for you had lots of benefits, but stuff like this was the most fun. "Cornus, you've screwed up the least. You and the Hungry Hunters get the contract. The rest of you, back to work."
The five remaining contenders bowed, a level of respect she wasn't usually afforded. But she wasn't Vette the unpredictable twi'lek, not to them. She was the unnamed, unseen shadow queen who was seemingly omnipotent, which came around to her slicers again. Them and her spies.
Cornus, a rather small man with a not-so-small army under him, didn't fidget. That was fair, being around sixty and having lived half that on the battlefield, but he was also known to have a foul mouth.
He'd been nothing but polite.
"Your job." She continued. "Is to go to the Rutan system, which lies along the Hydian trade route. Among its asteroid belt and on the planet itself you will find an organization known as the Emperor's Hand. I want it to vanish. Every soldier, every leader. No interrogations or prisoners. Just fire and orbital bombardment, a ground assault only if necessary."
The mercenary leader grunted. "Numbers?"
"Unverified, but estimated in the high thousands. Force users are likely, so the Hammers of Irritil will be going with you. Their numbers have expanded in recent times, and I'm sending a few associates just in case. But just to be clear, a ground assault will be unfavourable."
"Never known a jedi to survive high-yield explosives." Cornus mumbled. Vette didn't correct the man, either about the jedi part or the surviving. Most people, she found, had a rather basic understanding of the Force. "When's it got to be done?"
"As soon as possible. They will likely know you're coming, so start hard and go from there."
A rare smile spread over the man's face. "That's what I like to hear."
"Good." And it was that. Not a nice fellow, that Cornus, but good at what he did. Very good. "You'll enjoy this less. They will scatter either before or after, and I'm sending you to hunt them down. You'll have a discretionary fund of fifty million, which will be in addition to your regular operational budget."
That did, in fact, displease. Not that Vette cared. Cornus grunted again and she hung up the call, leaning back in her seat.
A sigh of contentment left her as she picked up her drink, taking a sip as her other hand flew over her datapad. Approved the mission as she'd just explained it, preparing for her next call, the works.
But at least this particular ship was built for comfort. A pleasure vessel, custom ordered by some rich slaver that was now dead, and her people had acquired it for her. Personally, at that, her Corellian branch leader rather desperate to make up for a recent blunder. She wasn't going to be using the ship again, but still.
Comfortable.
Alas, she had a war to run, and this ship was worth just over forty million. Money she would much rather spend on weapons and training, and she already had a buyer lined up. Another thing her intelligence network was good for. Fencing stolen stuff.
First it would drop her off in Enosis territory, where her current escort vessel would become her primary one, before going further. The buyer lived deep into the Unknown Regions, which wasn't all that unknown if you had that much money. Conveniently located for her, though.
But as much as she'd like to meet this mysterious rich stranger, and possibly steal from him, she had something else to take care of. Which wasn't the Hand, though she would love to take care of that too. No, this concerned the Enosis.
Specifically, their lack of qualified and loyal personnel.
She had no doubt that Zethix and Morgan had put the right people in charge, but their main supporter base was out and about. Lana and Kala, Quinn and Master Volryder. All key people in power, all gone with the fleets to wage war.
Which left the newer people, like moff Vylon. A skilled administrator, from what she'd been told, but new. The general Octavian was gone too, though that was neither a win nor a loss. Then there were the people she didn't care to remember, people who had been promoted instead of recruited, and it was anyone's guess with them.
So that was what she was doing. Admittedly with an alternative motive, which was that the price on her head had been upped to two billion after her one credit bounty on the Supreme Mogul had been officially posted, and security needed time to vet those she came in regular contact with.
That much money would tempt anyone, so Amelia was ensuring her personal security was absolute. But that left her with free time, and what better than to spend it making sure Morgan's people didn't turn on him?
He'd do the same for her, no doubt. Probably with less style and more terror, but he'd do it.
Fortunately, she'd already spoken to Zethix about it. So now she was the Vice Deputy of Internal Affairs, which held sweeping power over pretty much everything. Temporarily, of course, but she did always approve of decisiveness.
That title flashed over her screen as she entered Enosis space, signifying her ship had been noticed and allowed entry, and she made her way towards Gamma station. The industry one, she was pretty sure, and the largest of the three. Also where she would find the moff who wasn't and was still a moff. An Enosis moff and a traitor Imperial moff?
Not important. What was important was the fact she saw an alarming lack of ships, only two frigates peeling off to escort her. She knew they relied on secrecy for protection, which was a sound strategy, but still.
The recent losses probably hadn't helped. Vette forcefully pushed her mind away from Morgan's defeat, the worry pointless. His first significant one, and he was no doubt blaming himself, but there's no point in thinking about it, Vette.
Regardless, this would be a nice vacation. Her not-so-little-anymore syndicate would do what it could, she'd probably have to kill a few of her branch leaders when they turned traitor, and then she would go back to claiming the criminal underworld for herself.
She amused herself with the very comprehensive entertainment system, work, and another call, and by then her ship had docked. A dozen Valkyries, which had already been cleared, met her at the door. From there it was seconds before she stood on Enosis grounds, a small but private hangar spreading before her.
The second ship, much more inconspicuous and better armed, landed and she nodded at it. Not that she could see the pilot, but still. Manners mattered. And speaking of manners, there was a man here to greet her.
Technically three, but two of them were soldiers. Enosis military, their uniforms Imperial but for the purple markings they wore, and standing at proper attention. The unarmed man had that 'I've been told you're important but I don't see it' look about him, which she didn't blame him for, and her Valkyries exited the ship behind her.
The soldiers tensed and Vette grinned. Her days of scrounging second-rate gear were well and truly over, especially for those guarding her life. Top-shelf armor with strength augmentation, weapons that weren't sold on the open market, the works. Faceless, too, and their helmets were styled in an almost primitive fashion.
When you paid that much money per suit, customization was usually allowed.
She herself didn't wear one, though she did own a pair, but her Beksar lined light-armor fit her like a glove. The greeter shuffled nervously, realising how rich she was and probably still being too conservative, and she looked at him.
"Moff Vylon offers his greetings." He began, nerves smoothing away. A professional, then. "He has assured that your position as Deputy will be respected by all within the Enosis, and that his staff has been instructed to assist you in any way possible."
"Let's go talk to him."
The man paused. "Your arrival was not according to the expected time table, and the moff cannot simply clear his schedule at the drop of a hat. I'm sure if you reque-"
"Nope. Leaving now." Vette declared, her datapad pinging. The route to Vylon's office was laid out, courtesy of her new -albeit temporary- title granting her people access, and she moved. The soldiers tensed, her Valkyries followed suit, and the diplomat hurriedly waved his people down. Vette shrugged. "I'm not here to make friends, and I care less than nothing if I step on anyone's toes. I'm here to do a job, I will do that job, and so help me Goddess if you stand in my way."
Never having stopped moving, and with her Valkyrie close behind, the man stepped aside. Morgan's people or not, the Enosis was growing large. Large enough bureaucracy was becoming centralized, which meant politics and paper-pushing were imminent.
Dozens of brains left her escort vessel, her name for the Very Smart People she had on her payroll, and more Valkyries left with them. The brains were the ones doing the actual finding out, going over hundreds of thousands of pages of paperwork to find discrepancies and betrayal, while she was going to go do what she did best.
Annoying people into revealing their true self.
And the moff was first, though by no means the last. She had a list, forwarded by Zethix, and more people of interest would no doubt reveal themselves in time.
But for now, the moff. His office wasn't that far, not at the pace she set, and she only encountered resistance at the very end. Before that the diplomat waved everyone aside, but this time the soldiers refused. Insisted on proper identification, and Vette handed over her temporary badge with a smile.
The soldiers stiffened when her rank came back, which she knew to be flagged as investigative and thus wielding vast power, and they were let through. More walking, this time through a government building, and she finally arrived at the man's office.
Who was, as the diplomat had warned, in a meeting. Vette ignored the secretary trying to stop her, waved at her Valkyries to wait, and threw the door open. Strode inside like she was late for the meeting, taking one of the free seats and dragging it to the corner.
Behind the moff, at that, so she could watch him and his guests at the same time. It was a rather blatant insult, rude in all the ways bureaucrats like him despised, and his response would be a good start to her investigation.
Moff Vylon, as she expected, took it in stride. Welcomed her briefly before turning back to his guests, which appeared to be defecting Imperials. A captain, two paper-pushers and a soldier, if she read them right.
She listened to the moff address their concerns, break the news that none of them would be keeping their ranks without going through remedial training, and dealt with the resulting complaints.
A competent administrator, something she already knew. But seeing it was something else, and he didn't seem to mind her looking over his shoulder. A good skill to have in the Empire, she would admit, and almost necessary for a moff, but still. Impressive.
She'd annoyed quite a lot of people like this, and he was easily in the top five of handling it.
But all good times ended, and soon enough she was left alone with him. Vylon turned his chair so he was facing her, face relaxed and his tone calm. "Was that necessary?"
"Yup." Vette replied, popping the p. "I'm here to make sure you kids don't burn the house down when daddy's away. Or steal from someone I love in his absence, more accurately. Goddess forbid anyone tries something really stupid like treason or a coup. I might actually have some fun in that case."
Vylon nodded amiably. "And you think I'm an idiot? Lord Zethix is an experienced manager, and a great many people in power have been with the Enosis for a long time, but even if not? Lord Caro is at war to guarantee our freedom, many of our bravest men and women with him, and it would only be the greatest of fools that risks treason now. Being pulled apart by a mob, for one, would not be an unlikely consequence."
"You? No, I don't think you're stupid." Vette shrugged, realising both their first names started with a v. Annoying. "Other people? Oh yes. But that's what my brains are here for. They'll find the embezzlers and thieves and idiot traitors. I'm here for you. And people like you, of course, but mostly you."
His face twitched, the first sign of real annoyance since she entered. "I risked a great deal to join the Enosis, from my career to my life, and I am good at what I do."
"You joined the Enosis because your career was dead." Vette countered, pulling out her datapad and making a show of reading from it. She never even turned it on, which she made sure he saw. "Got invited to join a group of Imperial dissenters, rose through their ranks, offered to join the Enosis without their official approval. Purged their ranks once the expected outcry began, securing your power, et cetera, et cetera. Good at what you do, and adapting admirably to the non-racist, inclusivity based style leadership of the Enosis, but slipping up here and there. Nothing that got you more than a stern talking to."
Vylon's face tightened.
"Oh, you thought I didn't do my homework?" She asked, faking surprise. "Well, you'd be right! But I have so very many people to do my homework for me, these days. See, this is a favor for a friend. A job I don't mind doing, and I am going to do it well, but a favor. I expect your full cooperation, it means that I'm going to make people hate me, and after I'm done you can be sure the Enosis harbors no traitors."
The moff relaxed with a visible effort of will, offering a polite smile. "Of course. I never meant to imply otherwise."
"Good. Let's start with the staff you took with you when you betrayed the Empire. How long have each of them been in your service?"
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Morgan stretched as he rose from his seated position, his room on the Yamada coming back into sight. Two months he and the First Fleet had left the Enosis, two months of sparse contact and the threat of danger. Even more so here, on this shipyard station of the Hoersch-Kessel Drive corporation.
At least Nella, and the workers in general, had gotten more hospitable after the Enosis cleared their debt. The treasury taken from the Sanctuary had been delivered home, which allowed them to send payment for the repairs of the fleet.
He spent most of his time meditating, in truth. Trying to find the limits of the Eye's memory, and what he found was both relieving and unsettling. It could have done more, a great deal more, and instead contented itself by burning a memory into his mind.
A memory of pain, but in that it had miscalculated. After his torture with Marr, and to a lesser extend that of Korriban, pain didn't scar as deeply as it should. The reminder of it not inflicting as much terror. Unpleasant, certainly, and he learned his lesson, but he was not crippled. Not for long.
And today was a good day, so he showered and got ready. Limited contact meant he didn't have much of an idea what Lana and Soft Voice were up to, not beyond the basics, but the former was coming here. She'd been winning, that much he did know, but taking losses doing so, and the plan was to combine the First and Second fleet into one.
Bolster their numbers, then strike out again. This delay for repairs had already cost them some momentum, though Soft Voice certainly had been trying to make up for it by winning two decisive battles, but they couldn't lick their wounds for too long.
He set out once his mind had adjusted back to reality, his meditation having taken him deep into the Force, and set out to board the station. Lana would arrive within the next few hours, so he had until then to ensure his fleet was ready to go.
It wasn't.
Well, that was somewhat unkind to Senior Captain Enzo. Time had let morale stabilise, the Force infused food helped more than he had anticipated, but mistakes happened. Soldiers and crew fled, though Morgan had been assured it was much less than usual and none had gotten away, and the engineers repairing their vessels weren't all used to military ships.
Morgan spent his remaining time smoothing over wrinkles, be that through diplomacy or simply his presence, and the last frigate left the shipyard fifteen minutes after Lana's fleet was announced. He cast a final look around the somewhat dirty streets, two squads of Chosen ensuring he had space to move.
He wasn't going to miss this station. True enough, they had treated him well, and the communications blackout had been observed, but it wasn't his. Arrogant, perhaps, but he preferred his own people.
Maybe it was the fact that despite being here for weeks, he had no real memories of the place. He mostly spent his time on the Yamada, mediating and helping Enzo and Elarius organize, and what time he did spend on the station itself was purely business.
It had a lovely dining district, or so he heard, and apparently the alcohol was both cheap and plentiful. But neither was something he would enjoy alone, and he had no friends here. His officers were just that, subordinates, and the Chosen never relaxed with him around.
Not that he was lonely, not really, but he had come to realise it was people, not places, that he valued. A realisation that came late, perhaps, and one he felt he had known for some time, but only now it crystalized.
Half an hour later he was standing in the airlock, opening to reveal Lana Beniko. She looked a little worse for wear, less physically and more in the way her eyes scanned her surroundings, and he was glad they'd agreed to meet privately.
There'd be a proper ceremony later, with captains and officers and fanfare, but it was good to see his friend again. So good, in fact, that he opened his arms wide for a hug.
Lana stalled, watching his approach and probably deciding if she should dodge, and just kind of stood there as he wrapped her in a bear-hug. Morgan let go after a long second, smiling grandly. "I've missed you."
"And I you." She replied, clearly pretending that hadn't just happened. "And it will be good to see you again, after I've killed this poorly prepared pretender that has taken Morgan's place."
"You wound me. I've always been affectionate."
"I cannot begin to express how glad I am that that's a lie. Now stop stalling and tell me what happened."
Morgan sighed. "Fine, fine. You know the basics already, but Marr lured us into an ambush. Miscalculated, from what we've determined, because it was probably the plan to arrive the moment we locked into combat with the fleet already stationed on Hoth. And if he was uncertain about how much faster isotope-5 made him before, he won't be now."
"Then I shall bring some good news to the table." Lana said, waving vaguely behind herself. "The Second Fleet has been winning minor victories, though damage has added up. Enough so that we have been reinforced ourselves; eight destroyers with another eleven frigates added to our ranks. Crewed by a mix of defecting Imperials and graduates of Enosis training. A freshly graduated class, to clarify, and one of the first of the Naval Academy on Omega station to do so."
"That is good news. And where shall our combined might be sailing?"
Lana smiled. "We, my apparently dear friend, are going to relieve our holdings on Taris."
"Our holdings?"
"Oh yes." She grinned, a sharp edge to it. "Moff Qalli there has officially declared for the Enosis eighteen hours ago, and an Imperial fleet has been seen moving towards it. By our estimates we'll beat them by approximately six hours, if we leave now, and won't they be surprised to find a war-fleet waiting for them?"
Morgan let teeth peek through his smile. "You really are a dear friend to bring me a gift such as that. Let's go back to Taris, then, where our friendship began."
"Rhyming, seriously?"
"Shut up."
Afterword
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