Value Loyalty Above All Else [Star Wars]

"Click clack." The soldier muttered, eyes intently on his rifle. He'd been doing that since Morgan got trapped in the room, the door closing after another had left. So much for a shortcut. "Clean the blaster, clean the cap. A proper soldier doesn't wear crap."

He also reflected that he wasn't all that good at this stealth thing. He hadn't been discovered, true, but the moment he'd slipped past their shield it had been one setback after another. That, he realised, might have been the only part that had gone as it should have. Vette's people had found the general's link to the planetary generator and introduced a glitch, but that would only work for a limited amount of time.

Twice, in fact. So Morgan took a breath and sank a little deeper, because if he failed here more of his people would die. The general would have to be ambushed, lured out, and nothing would be as clean as this would be. The door opened as he pressed the button, the soldier looking up.

And blinked, shaking his head as Morgan walked through. "Old fucking base. You hear that, Betty? Place' so old it's gotten a life of its own. Maybe you'll wake up one day, eh? Appreciate that I spend half my waking hour making sure you look as nice as can be."

Morgan ignored the clearly insane soldier as the door closed behind him, his helmet's display pointing the way. It was smooth sailing for another two corridors, past four clerks and a checkpoint, before he cursed. A droid was guarding the door leading deeper, one that seemed disinclined to move.

Waiting a beat, and watching an officer approaching said door, the droid only moved after verifying the women's identity. Verified by way of scanning, which would mean being recognized. And probably set off every alarm bell in the base when it flagged him as unidentified. Or worse, the enemy.

Force stealth, he found, was very much about acting normal. About the mindset that yes, actually, he had every right to be here. That nothing was abnormal about his presence, and everyone should go back to what they were doing. Unless there was a jedi here, or another House trained Force user. But he'd made sure there weren't. And if they could hide from both his detection and Vette's people, he had bigger problems than a failed mission anyway.

The unfeeling machine of war moved back in place the moment its charge passed, blocking the door with its bulk, and there was no way he was slipping past. Not without getting very close to someone also going through the door, and that had the habit of failing. Getting spotted by his own men while skulking through the Aurora had been embarrassing. Getting stopped here would be disastrous.

But there was no other way that was less heavily guarded, the longer he spend here the more chances he got to fuck something up, and as a messenger moved through the door Morgan joined him.

And immediately made the man tense, looking over his shoulder. "X-four-o, did someone just pass me?"

"Negative. No sentient, organic objects found within ten point seven feet."

"Scan again." Morgan moved further in, not stopping to see how it turned out. Either the man would raise all hell and he was on a time limit, or he would dismiss it as paranoia. No need for him to stick around. The droid replied negatively, this time being correct. "Fuck. Fine, guess a lack of sleep is catching up to me. Just to be safe, send a report to the captain. I'm not getting accused of ignoring the increased security directive."

"Affirmative."

Morgan swallowed as he ducked into a mostly abandoned hallway, relaxing his focus. Enough so people would ignore his existence, but not if they came too close. Something about the brain reacting to danger the closer a threat came, though Teacher had expressed ignorance on any deeper knowledge. Either way, he wasn't quite so practised as to keep it up for long.

From there, at least, everything went well. Until he came to the general's quarters, which had no less than eight guards stationed around it. Four droids and four soldiers, all hyper alert and keeping anyone from getting too close. Morgan wanted to groan. So much for making her call her lover.

Eavesdropping and making a list of her officers was easier, fortunately, and while the name was somewhat fuzzy he was pretty sure this was him. Captain Blenks Carmichel, senior communications officer. His room, by comparison, was undefended. It was also empty, and Morgan dearly wished to break something as he located the man. Giving a presentation on proper encryption and data security, mainly aimed at lower ranking officers. His irritation cooled as he took a seat in the back, though, since it was somewhat interesting.

A full room of engrossed listeners, Blenks was a good presenter, did allow him to relax further. Let his mind rest some, since no one was really looking at him anyway. So he let himself drift until he was just beneath the waves, to make anyone watching the camera feed skip over him, and rested. Waited for his target to finish and go somewhere private, and learn something about information redaction as a bonus.

The rest lasted an hour or so, making it the second he'd spend in enemy territory, and to his surprise his stamina was holding out fine. Lacking raw power was something he had gotten used to, by now, but his reserves weren't even below eighty percent yet. Roughly speaking, of course, but they ticked up a little more as he stood. A discipline relying on control and skill rather than power, just like fleshcrafting. Lucky him.

Stalking Blenks back to his quarters was easy enough, as was slipping inside before the door closed. The man was engrossed in his datapad, whatever it held, and didn't even blink as Morgan walked up behind him. He did startle as a hand was pressed to his forehead, but he had only a moment before slipping into unconsciousness.

Morgan waited a beat, hearing no alarms going off, and picked the man up. Setting him down on his chair, and taking his own helmet off, he sighed. Now for the nasty part. "Wake up."

Blenks groaned, shaking his head as if drunk. Then it snapped to his, and all colour drained from the man's face. "You."

"Me. I assume you know who I am, then. You are going to invite the general to your quarters, and you are going to do so without warning her I am here."

"What?" Another groan, before his body relaxed. "Why would she listen to me? Captains don't get to summon generals. Me contacting her would raise suspicion."

"Because you love her, and she loves you. I doubt this is the first time you've snuck into each other's rooms."

A sad smile fluttered over Blenks' face. "We broke it off two months ago. She said the war was getting too intense to risk it. I'm transferring to the Republic fleet in two weeks, on loan from House Organa."

"Seriously?" Morgan looked deep, peeling the man layer by layer, and found little but aching sadness. Love, too, but tainted by grief and buried by duty. "Jesus christ. Well, that complicates matters."

"Sorry to disappoint. What do you want from her, anyway?"

Morgan waved his hand. "Nothing that concerns you. Alright, call her anyway. Tell her you wish to talk, that you've changed your mind about leaving."

"No, sith. I am an officer of House Organa, duly appointed by the true Alderaanian government. I will not help you kill her."

"I'm not here to kill her. You know me, about me. When I give my word I keep it, and I give you my word that, if she gives me what I want, I will not harm her. Will not kill her, or you, and leave here in peace."

Blenks took a moment to process that, tapping his fingers on the chair. "You mean that, don't you? King be good, a sith that values honour. If that was meant to convince me to help you, it failed. I'm more determined than ever to make sure you don't leave here alive."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Morgan reached out, ignoring how the man flinched, and locked down his nervous system. A profoundly uncomfortable feeling. "But if I don't get what I want, I will kill her. And you, and then your entire chain of command. One by one, until this army of yours is nothing but grunts scrambling for orders. Everything she fought for, gone. House Organa reeling from the loss of their greatest general, forced to give ground to House Thul."

He let go, Blenks taking deep gulps of breath. "Alternatively, you call her. She answers a few questions, which won't endanger the war effort, and you can pretend this never happened."

"And if I still refuse?" His voice was steady, his emotions muted, but Morgan still smelled the fear in him. The terror. "If I would rather die?"

Then nothing, really. He wasn't going to torture some random officer to death, not for something he could figure out on his own. With risk, and without being able to explain how he made the leaps of logic he had, but he could.

Not that the man knew that. "Then I will puppet your mind, make the call anyway, and you suffer a fate worse than death. Then I'll do the same to the woman you love, and you can watch her psyche shatter under the strain."

Blenks made the call, the terror bordering on a panic attack, and Morgan reigned in his aura. Good for intimidation, that. "It's me. Yes, I know. We need to talk. Please. One last time."

The datapad shut off after she agreed, and the man turned defeated eyes on him. "Keep your word, sith."

"As long as you don't give me a reason not to."

Morgan stood in the corner next to the door, in that place people looked last when they scanned a room, and sank in the Force again. It freaked Blenks out more than the artificial fear had, for some reason, but at least it kept him honest. His eyes kept looking around, skipping over him and sometimes sticking, and that stopped after a few minutes too. Then it was silence and meditation, a rest before the next task.

Which came with the hiss of an impatient woman, Gesselle Organa marching inside with her guard nowhere to be found. She did scan the room, he sank a little deeper just in case, before finally turning to Blenks. "I'm here. We agreed to stop doing this, captain. That a clean break was best."

Didn't even use his name. Morgan winced in sympathy as he felt the man's grief spike, and dropped the veil as the door closed. "Hello, general."

Gesselle turned and drew her weapon in one smooth motion, her finger less than an inch from the trigger when Morgan froze her hand. He walked up to the woman, who immediately tried to stab him while calling for help, and pressed a hand to her wrist. She collapsed on the bed like a boneless heap, making Blenks jump to his feet.

"What did you do?!"

"Relaxed her muscles. Not to worry, she'll regain control in a minute or two. I would like you to use that time to contemplate your next actions, general. One that doesn't end with your forsworn lover suffering needlessly."

He waited patiently as the woman regained control of her body, raising his hand when she did. "Don't try to raise the alarm, please. If I was here to kill you I'd have carved through your guard and done it while you slept."

"Then what do you want?" Her tone had bite to it, an undercurrent of steel, but it was also moderated. Cautious. "Your file indicates you don't care about Alderaan's struggle."

"I don't. Jaesa Willsaam. Tell me where her family is."

That, for some reason, made her more confident. She even smirked, though lightly. "Ah, figures a tool of Baras would be after Nomen Karr's apprentice. I'll make you a deal, sith. There is a compound twenty clicks north east of here, belonging to House Rist. Destroy it, and I'll tell you where they are."

"You are missing a critical piece of information, general." Morgan sighed, stepping right. Blenks fell to his knees as his hand touched the man, a silent scream contorting his face. "I can feel your emotions. You are a hard woman, a dedicated soldier, but you knew he was a weakness. It's why you ended it, I reckon, and planned to have him sent far away. You knew someone would use him against you, sooner or later."

Her face was an iron mask, even as her heart rate spiked and adrenaline flooded her body. "I am the last hope of House Organa, the future of this planet depends on my actions. Kill him, and you'll never find them."

"I admire your zeal." Morgan said honestly. "And your poker face. But we can't choose who we love, and shutting down the bonfire of passion can be so very hard indeed."

Blenks stood with jerky movements, taking the knife floating to his hand. The horror in his eyes was clear enough, as was the way his movements weren't his own. Gesselle cracked as he put it to his throat, taking half a step forward. "Wait, stop. Please."

"A wise choice, general." He let go, making the man twitch. The knife he'd given him almost keened as it went for his neck, missing by a margin as Morgan leaned sideways. "Less wise, but I'll forgive the attempt considering the circumstances. Sleep."

The captain went boneless like the general had, leaving them alone. Gesselle went blank even as hatred and fury turned cold in her stomach, and he was glad he'd thought of a backup. "Jaesa's parents are stationed as servants on the other side of the planet, hosted by House Teral. They took the names Elenco and Yelonta."

Morgan nodded, bowing his head. "Thank you. Blenks bargained for your life, and I will keep my word."

"You have to know I'll warn them. That they'll be moved, and that you've made an enemy for life."

"Not the smartest thing to say, but yes, I do. Fortunately, I came prepared."

She took two steps back as he pulled a syringe, making him raise an eyebrow. Shaking his head, and closing the distance quick enough she flinched, it went in her neck without trouble. She blinked as he did the same to Blenks, wobbling. "What. What did you do?"

"Memory loss drug. I recommend you sit down."

Gesselle did, her hands shaking. "How long?"

"No more than an hour." He assured. "I hold no personal enmity to you or yours, despite recent events. Sleep, general, and this won't even be a bad memory."

When she lost the battle of consciousness he picked her up, laying her down on the bed next to Blenks. John had told him the drug makes people more inclined to rationalise their loss of memory, more so than the brain normally did, and hopefully they'll see this as nothing more than a relapse in their relationship. It might even make her send him away sooner, which would be good for everyone involved.

Either way, his job was done here. Morgan grunted as he stood, opening the door and mentally planning his route out.

And he didn't even have to kill anyone, this time.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Vette dropped from the bar as the door opened, landing with such grace she nearly giggled. And not the cute kind, the one she pulled out when she wanted to see Morgan sigh in disappointment. The creepy, giddy sound was more often found when serial killers finished their ironic and long awaited murder, and she didn't care.

Being this strong was awesome, and she'd hear no arguments to the contrary. Her good mood died as she saw who'd entered, though, and her hand went to the knife on her hip. Quinn held up his hands, a strained smile on his face. "Please, let's not complicate this with unnecessary paperwork. I just wish to talk."

"And why would I entertain a traitor?"

The captain sighed, Vette decided it was much cuter when Morgan did it, and walked further inside anyway. "This has to end, Vette. We're Morgan's left and right hand, I won't argue who is which, but we can't pull in different directions. It adds strain to an already stressful job, to speak nothing of what would happen should it get in the way of our work. Or would you like to explain to him the mission failed because we couldn't talk like adults?"

She hid a flinch rather expertly, in her opinion, and made her tone twice as biting. "He forgives too easily, and it's the only reason you're still alive."

Quinn shook his head. "You're skilled, I won't argue that, but don't forget I've been a soldier for a long while now. I have the same strength coursing through my veins as you do."

"You think you can beat me, eh?" She smirked, a sharp edge to it. "Care to put that to the test? Or are words the sum of you, soldier boy?"

He pulled his jacket off, revealing a rather well muscled physique underneath. Not that that said much, with fleshcrafting involved. "I would like to think not."

She pushed instead of answering, a jab going for his side. He stepped back and rolled on his feet, fists balled. Vette grinned, stepping back as he tested her reach, and decided that, at the very least, the man wasn't a coward. Nor unskilled, because his fingers grazed her elbow.

However well trained he was, though, he hadn't kept up with it. She adjusted to his longer reach with practised ease, dancing around him as she resisted the urge to get too rough. Morgan would be upset if a friendly spar ended with broken bones. Quinn stepped back twice, creating space after trying, and failing, to grapple her.

"That all you got, Imp? And here I thought the training I underwent on Dromund Kaas was substandard."

He answered by taking a breath, fending off her assault when she ran out of patience. He was better at defence than attack, she noted, but it didn't stop her from twisting his arm sideways. Unlike most others she fought, though, her strength didn't make that an automatic win. He pushed her hand to a weaker angle, breaking her grip with a surge of strength.

Which was when her foot connected to his torso, and he nearly lost his balance as he was forced back. "You're stronger than the Chosen."

"Perks of sleeping with the boss. And I actually know how to force the most out of it, pardon the pun." A slap nearly broke through his defence, deflected at the last moment. Instead of his face it landed on his shoulder, but it still had enough power to make him flinch. "Besides, you're a soldier."

Quinn scrambled as she abandoned defence entirely, trying to regain the initiative when she kicked his leg out from under him. After that he lasted another three moves, which was, admittedly, more than most managed. She took a few steps back as he pulled himself to his feet, disinclined to assist.

It set the norm for the next fifteen minutes, the captain landing on his back more often than not. He was getting better, if slowly, as he adjusted to her way of fighting, but she still found it lacking. The military placed little focus on hand to hand, even her own training with them had mostly insisted on aim and endurance, so she supposed he put in the work. Didn't stop her from ramming her shoulder in his chest.

The man grunted as he leaned against the wall, breathing stabilising after some seconds. "Feel better?"

"Somewhat." She admitted. "Still doesn't make me trust you."

"No, I suppose it wouldn't. So you'll keep watching for a betrayal that won't come, I'll continue to do my job, and you'll know for sure when Morgan's plan with the jedi works out."

Vette shrugged. "And until then we've got little to talk about. And if she clears you, don't think that'll make me forgive and forget. Do your job, I'll do mine. We'll see what happens."

"Fair enough." He pushed away from the wall, picking up his jacket. "And it's good he has you. And that you have him, for that matter. An eye for an eye may not make the world go blind, but it does burn through competent help alarmingly quickly."

Her datapad pinged as he left, interrupting her efforts to cling to her anger. She grunted as she picked it up, seeing Amelia's face stare back at her. "Yes? I'm trying to find a reason to keep hating someone instead of merely being suspicious of their existence."

"I'm sure you can keep an eye on captain Quinn without hating him, ma'am." Amelia replied, a small smile on her face. "Even if Lord Morgan has already put that behind him. He is a remarkable man, balancing kindness with weakness."

Vette smirked. "You're just saying that because he did weird magic stuff to you."

"Yes. Do you have a moment?"

"Sure." She checked the time, and the agenda that had been setup for her, then nodded. "Yup. Look, I even checked my schedule this time."

Amelia sighed. "After agreeing, but yes. Well done. Could you please return to the ship? John Doe wishes to speak with you."

Morgan's spook? Eh, why not. "On my way. Keep him away from the consoles. Or the men. Actually, don't let him on the ship. I'll be very annoyed if I find him snooping."

"The new security protocols should catch him. It was a good idea to collaborate with captain Kala."

Vette preened before disconnecting, the smile slipping from her face. John wanting something wasn't that unusual, they procured stuff for him in the past, but that usually went through her merchants.

Skulking out of the ship was easy enough, as was procuring a seat on one of the civilian shuttles carrying people to and from the planet. Her ship had to make do with a dock on the surface, those cheap Alderaanians had been lazy with expanding their station, but in this case it served her well. She didn't need to be seen coming and going from Morgan's ship, thank you very much.

It was almost fun, stretching those old muscles. Space stations always were a rats-nest of tunnels, secret passengers and short but exhilarating spacewalks, and doing so again was nostalgic. That she was dodging watchers instead of security mattered little, aside from the fact the former knew what they were doing. Sometimes, anyway, but it would get boring otherwise.

Her Valkyries were waiting near the ship, displeasure written on their faceless helmets. "Sucks to suck. What did we learn about overlapping patrol communication?"

"Don't assume, always check. We'll remember, ma'am."

"You better. Next time I'm taking a nipple as punishment."

She liked to think they blanched in fear, but truthfully she couldn't tell. Either way, she waved them onwards. Not like taking it would be permanent, anyway, and she could already imagine the sheer disappointment Morgan would let out when he heard about it. Probably not what he was thinking about when he fantasized about her touching other girls' boobs.

Wait, did he? She made a note to ask, just knowing he had some clever answer to that. Something like how he never thought about another girl before, actually, and she was the first one he's ever seen. A perversion of the natural order, she condemned. Again, even, which made her all the more certain something was wrong. Men were supposed to be the horny ones, unable to keep it in their pants.

John interrupted her by strolling out of the nearby restroom, her guard surging to contain the unknown element. The man raised an eyebrow, amused, as two blasters were shoved in his face. The other four took positions to cover everywhere else, and he nodded. "Good, very nice. Contain the threat, assume others could be incoming. I see you've been training them."

"It passed the time. I remember telling Amelia to not let you on the ship."

"Must have forgotten to inform me." The spook shrugged. "Can we talk? Without your lovely ladies half a second away from shooting me, preferably. We'd make a real mess of the ship."

Vette waved at them to stand down, motioning for the man to follow. "I'm not him, don't be presumptuous. And I will tell them to open fire on you next time."

John nodded amicably, falling in step as she moved to leave again. No way was she going to have this conversation in the ship, with its many people fighting for gold above all else, though her Valkyries followed. Those were a little more personally loyal, something she'd spent not an insignificant amount of time assuring.

It was all about brand loyalty, she thought with some amusement. Get them when they just started their career, a year or two under their belt, and pay them twice their worth. Train them to be better, give them someone to look up to, and most dedicate their lives to it. Not like people with loving families and happy memories become mercs, anyway. Give them that, family and friends, and they'll fight to the bitter end.

There were some outliers, those who wouldn't care no matter what, but she was a good judge of character. And employed many who were even better, though they themselves were here for a paycheck. She waved her guard away as they came to a stop, a pretty little garden being overturned as her people secured the area. "So, stranger who doesn't know what boundaries are, what can this humble merchant do for you?"

"I feel some amount of sarcasm directed at me. Have I done something to displease?"

Vette grinned. "Oh, nothing big. Compromised the security of those I love, not taking hints, stuff like that. Still looking for a reason not to shoot you for that, really. But Morgan always says I get bored quickly, so it might be best if you start talking."

"Mah." John waved his hand, bending down to pick up a flower. He presented it for inspection, tugging it away when she shrugged. "Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you, for one, and the opportunity I'm going to present needs you sharp."

"I'm sure my simple twi'lek brain can't keep up with your mighty human one. Please, oh wise master, spell it out for me."

The man actually winced at that, his eyes checking her guard. Out of earshot, as they should be. "Morgan hears about you calling me that and he might actually kill me. Kindly don't sic your sith boyfriend on me, it makes verbal sparring unfunny. And if you really want me to say it, fine. I'm pushing so you adapt, because the wider galaxy doesn't excuse newcomers their mistakes. Better someone that plays a few harmless pranks than an Exchange assassin, or a hutt suicidebomber."

"Just remember that people have limits, Jonny boy. It stops being a fun little exercise when one of my people shoots you on sight."

"Point taken, my gracious companion. Now, my gift to you. I found who's been messing with our mutual friends business, and why. Seems Nomen Karr has fingers in many pies, cause off-duty SIS officers are making it their life purpose to stop Morgan from getting to Jaesa's parents. Flipping port control officers, redirecting jedi assignments, giving away classified files like candy, you name it. Might be best if those got taken care of before they do something drastic."

Her mind processed that as she leaned to the side, a scowl on her face. "Is that right? And why would the very bestest assassin in the whole wide galaxy need help with that? Don't tell me this is for me to learn, to stand on my own two feet."

"Nothing of the sort. I could take care of it on my own, sure, but not at the same time. They, being somewhat well trained, organised their efforts. One group to track him, another to hide the parents. Yet more to sabotage and salt the earth, and hitting one means the others go to ground. Or worse, call in their friends. Don't want to get blamed for starting another war. That's how people get reputations, don't you know? Horrible for business."

"So you need my people for numbers while you supply the intel? Laziness suits you."

He looked somewhat insulted by that, to her amusement. "I think not. I thought it would be a good time for you and me to get to know each other, maybe share some tips while we're slitting throats. You might need some sage advice if you want to keep expanding as you do."

Tutoring, in other words. Not the worst idea, seeing the shit Teacher taught Morgan made her more than aware how valuable a mentor could be, and him killing her would bring all kinds of hell down on his head. And she was fairly sure she could escape if needed, though not kill. He smiled widely as she nodded, pulling out his datapad.

"Excellent. This is what I've collected so far, thought you and I could go over it. A second pair of eyes and all that. And I've got the memory suppressants for Morgan, might as well give them to you. Make sure he reads the warning I wrote."

She accepted the syringes with a shrug, putting them away in her pouch. As she did the little scrap of paper unfolded, and she glanced at it. In big, bold words it read; Warning, removes memory of target. Do not fall and inject self.

"How stupid, exactly, do you think he is?"

"I've been assured he is a man of reasonable intelligence. Doesn't hurt to be safe."

Vette smiled thinly, John shrugged, and that was that. She sent a runner to get Morgan his forget juice, had a private, stern talk with the Goddess to make sure his infiltration went well, and sat down with the spook. Who spent the next half hour making her feel stupid, which didn't feel great.

But sucking at something was the first step to be kind of good at something, so she resisted the urge to stab and absorbed as much as she could. Because the man knew his stuff, of that there was no doubt. Then she met with the squad leaders that would be doing the actual assignments, abandoning John to his disappearing act, and Amelia smiled at her as she walked in the meeting room. "Ma'am. Elma, Gretha and Bob are on their way."

"Bob, right. Knew it was a mistake to offer free identity changes."

Her second shrugged, showing muscle where before there had been delicate shoulders. "Him and Gretha are experienced, but Elma is new. This will be her seventh command in the field, not counting training."

"Read the file you sent me. Young, loyal and competent. Haven't met her, even if she is another twi'lek."

"Asked around when Dorka suggested her. She's quite taken with you, apparently, and has taken better to military structure than most. If this goes well Dorka wants to fast-track her, put her under pressure to see if she could be captain material."

The table winked to life, Miraka's face appearing without warning. Vette scowled at the woman, who at least had the decency to look cowed. "Don't hack into our own communications, Miraka."

"It's hardly hacking when you build the entire network." She countered weakly, perking up immediately after. "But I went over the data packet you sent. Even put the new guys on it, good practice, and you won't believe what we've found."

"Not without you telling us."

"Right, so, check this out." A document appeared, Vette squinting as she tried to read it. It went to the second page too quickly, and she grunted. Miraka cleared her throat. "Sorry. I'll summarise. So, the SIS peoples? Not here with official backing. Like, they're all off duty, but their bosses think they're halfway around the galaxy getting high and fucking hookers or something. Black ops so dark it wraps all the way around to illegal again, since the Republic's official stance is to limit interference on Alderaan."

Amelia grinned, mirroring her own. "So when they mysteriously vanish, it'll take months to track them down. It removes the threat of escalation to a point of non issue, even. You think John knew about this?"

"Maybe." Vette hedged. "Maybe not. Either way, good news for us."

A polite knock on the door and one of her guards let the squad leaders inside, casting a look at Miraka. The example of proper decorum and respect was somewhat undercut by the fact the woman wasn't looking, eyes focussed on something Vette couldn't see. Whatever, she'll have to drive the point home later.

"Ma'am." Bob saluted, if somewhat hesitantly. An old hand in the merc business, but not used to the new way of things. Maybe not ever, but he was experienced all the same. "Reporting as ordered."

The holo changed again, this time with the four locations provided by John. "At ease. Your targets, as displayed, are as follows. Lieutenant Elma, yours is in sector four. A listening post that doubles as an armoury, so expect armed resistance. Bob, you and Gretha are going to sector nine. Your targets are located in the same city, both working under the cover of long haul transport. They bring in intel, supplies and manpower from offworld, so eliminating them will be crucial. An intel package will be sent to your personal datapads soon."

Elma nodded, her posture comfortably military. Bob and Gretha less so, though it was the former that spoke up. "Are they related to the Nine Fingers?"

"Need to know." Elma cast a look at both of the more experienced fighters, even as she rolled her eyes. Obvious to her, probably. Vette shrugged. "You don't. But in the interest of transparency, and because you'll probably find out anyway, they're former SIS. Spies, in other words, not soldiers. The Republic doesn't know they are here, and I'd like to prevent them from causing more trouble than they already have. Is that reason enough, sergeant?"

Bob stiffened at her tone, nodding tensely. "Ma'am."

"Good. Prep your squads, you leave in two hours. All targets will be struck simultaneously, so maintain holding positions until the order is given."

They filed out, Miraka disconnected after sending them the data, and Amelia smiled at her. "That went well, I think. They are still adjusting."

"People like Elma will be the key. Get word to the recruiters, keep an eye on them. See who breaks." She sighed, collapsing on the chair. "The sooner I can delegate this whole military thing the better. Not my speciality."

"A private army will make taking over the galactic underworld significantly easier. And having a figurehead is important for morale, you know this."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it. Find me more Elma's, I'll train them to run the day to day. I'll happily scheme the downfall of my enemies, or slit their throats myself, but I'm no military girl."

"Could have fooled me. John is waiting."

Vette grunted but stood, waving Jess closer as her Valkyries closed in around her. The woman was seemingly never quite busy enough not to be here herself, even if she led her guard as a whole. "Take the day off, I'm going to do some illegal shit."

"The purpose of having a guard is trivialised if you never bring us with you when danger is expected." The woman countered. "We're ready, ma'am. And we'd like to actually do something worthwhile, for once."

"Your purpose is to guard my back, but fine. You think you're ready? Let's go. Stealth first, so drop the heavy armour. Be at the main loading dock in five."

They ran, making her snort, and she made her way there herself. Having to babysit six overeager soldiers would suck, but maybe they'll surprise her. If not, it should at least calm them down. She had absolutely no interest in being stabbed by the very people that were supposed to protect her, thank you very much, and that meant keeping them somewhat satisfied. Their displeasure taking the form of trying to prove their competence and loyalty, well. She wouldn't complain too loudly.

So there she was, six overly enthusiastic women trying their hardest to follow her without it being obvious. It wasn't terrible, she supposed, but neither was it good. Maybe just about passing the bar for competent, though John grinned so wide she was reminded that wasn't nearly good enough. "That has to be the worst stalk job I've ever seen. I mean, at least pretend you're not watching us at all times. I hope they're not going to follow us too close to the target? I'm good, but I'm not sure I'm that good."

"No, they are not." Jess drooped in a way that actually made her feel bad, being just in earshot. "But they'll secure the site. If any of them rabbit my people will take care of them."

They straightened at that, and she briefly wondered what in the Goddess's name she was doing to these people. Then the spook distracted her with his datapad, and she focussed. "Sure, if you say so. Alright, here's the hideout. Their central one, best I can tell, and the two people spearheading this whole thing practically live there. They have some men and such for protection, but the really dangerous one is the green jedi kid they have with them."

"The what? Vette hissed. "Those aren't supposed to leave Corellia!"

"Found out myself when I scouted the place again twenty minutes ago, so that would have been a nasty surprise. It's just a padawan, though, and the two of us should be able to take him out. Even if that order plays soldier a little better than the normal jedi do."

She shook her head, nodding. Killing Force users was fine, really. She'd sparred with Alyssa and Inara, even with Morgan before he grew too strong, but fighting one for real was different. As a pirate the jedi tend to hack first and ask questions never, so everyone learns to not fuck with them. Or they die, which just proves her point. "Sure, fuck it. Kill the jedi, kill the spooks. My people can take care of the bodies."

"Wonderful." His tone was dry enough to make her scoff, though he seemed genuinely pleased not to have to do it himself. "Let's get going, then. No sense in letting them spot us because we wanted to have a chat."

Vette followed as he led the way, giving her people instructions as she did. There were no complaints about being put on watch duty, and at this point she wouldn't tolerate any either, but it felt nice. To have people watching her back. Her own people.

It caught her off guard, even. This whole thing had been an idle flight of fancy back on Nar Shaddaa, something to kill time as Morgan did his thing. Then it ran away with her just about hanging on, delegating with just enough skill she was left holding the reins. But the Valkyries, especially them, looked up to her. Trusted her to lead them. Most of the rest were here for a good paycheck or following a growing legend they'd never meet, numbers on a page in both cases.

But here six people shadowed her with the sole purpose of backing her up, to come to her aid if she but called, and it felt good. Secure. Maybe it was the twi'lek in her, craving a tribe to call her own.

So when she snuck past a watchful but bored man and sliced open his carotid artery, spilling blood just about everywhere, she did it with the grim realisation that she had to do right by them. Her Valkyries, at the very least, and more besides. The second man, a devaronian of small stature but bulking muscles, died when she shot him. Then another one, and a fourth. Moving through the office building without a sound, instincts quietly guiding her steps as she ducked past cubicles and abandoned offices.

Which was when she saw John and the kid jedi fight, lightsaber nowhere to be found. Nor did either party seem to notice her, the spook merrily kicking the boy's teeth in. Which, as she found, wasn't as close a fight as she first thought. The kid was green, pun notwithstanding, and John was clearly his superior in skill, but the jedi moved. Faster even than her enhanced pseudo-friend, though his strength held up.

But fights, as she learned long ago, tended to end without fairness or respect. In this case it ended when she shot the kid, her eyes never having stopped tracking his form. Her finger moved before she consciously decided on it, aiming just to the left of where he was. He jerked, tried to abort his feint, but the laws of motions still held some sway. The jedi dropped with a muted groan, John ending his life with an uncaring slice.

"Thanks for the assist. It feels good to be alive, doesn't it?" Vette ignored him, moving closer and rolling the jedi over. Two more shots cooked the brain, making the man nod encouragingly. "I was just about to get to that. Anyway, good work. Want some notes?"

"Enlighten me. And when did you even get the time to take over their security cameras to watch?"

He sat, ignoring the corpse on the floor and her question without a blink. "You walk like it's a battlefield, a ship to be raided or hideout to clear. High level espionage always operates behind official cover, be that government or civilian. They cannot, in most cases, immediately open fire. They have to verify you're not a civilian getting lost, some kid looking to get drunk or high. Learn to walk like you belong, like you have no training at all, and they'll hesitate. Even without, it's good practice not to look like you can kill everyone in the room. Works for the sith, doesn't for us."

"Noted." She rolled her eyes, mentally doing just that. "Anything else?"

"Killing like you do is efficient, practical. People know what that looks like, let's them know it's a professional. Shoot off center mass, knife them in the stomach instead of the neck. Otherwise, though, your stealth is good. Sharp instincts, good judgement. Another few years, assuming you listen to me here and now, and you'll rival any agent of our fine Empire. With superstrength, because sith are bullshit."

"Sith are bullshit." Vette agreed, grinning. "Luckily for the both of us, he's my bullshit."

"So he is. Care to go over the rest? Don't tell me you're one of those that gets annoyed when someone tears down their hard earned skills in the name of progress?

She kicked his shin, which he only just about dodged, and waved her hand. "Get on with it."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"This is not what I imagined the mysterious healing to look like." The old man mumbled, clutching the warm meal with shaking hands. "Didn't expect there to be actual healing, honestly."

Morgan paused as he finished swapping two hands around, leaving the middle aged woman and twenty something girl staring at it. Suddenly having perfectly young skin or a wrinkly hand must feel strange. "If you thought this was a trap, why come?"

"Your boy paid up front. I have loved ones and very little time. Seemed fair to trade one for the advancement of the other."

The older women scoffed, though not loudly. Morgan had insisted on going without names, for his peace of mind more than operational security. Likewise, they were in some abandoned warehouse Vette had found them. And he wasn't a sith, no sir. Just a wandering jedi doing some research. "I am sorry I can't cure you. Genetic disorders like that are beyond me."

"Bah." The girl, and he couldn't think of her as anything else, snorted. "Nine years of disappointment hardens the soul. Find something interesting in the time you have left, that's my goal. And this qualifies, oh yes. You gave me arthritis, by the way, and for that I proclaim you a dick."

"I swapped your hand with hers, I didn't make it. And we'll be going further than that, as discussed."

"Yea, yea. Do your thing, you oddly polite mad scientist. As the ancient one said, you paid up front."

"You'll be ancient before long." The old man snapped back, glaring. Then his eyes glazed over, muttering mostly to himself. "And I'll be twenty again. And a woman, which I guess is something I've been curious about?"

"Does he have dementia? I don't want to get dementia. My mind's one of the few things I have left!"

The older woman, who he stubbornly refused to nickname, sighed. "You'll do whatever the insanely powerful, biology bending jedi tells you to do, kid. Cheer up, it'll be interesting."

Morgan tuned them out, bending down over the old man and the girl. Looking at one set of soul essence, a woefully inept name for the whole that makes someone who they are, and copying it to another person was strange. Not that difficult, which was another thing, but just plain strange. Trying to make it up from nothing was a fool's errand, it was way too complicated for that, and touching the brain was beyond him, but everything else? Just snip off the bit of their soul that corresponded to the desired area of change, swap it around, and help along the body as it tries to adapt.

Not easy, not hard. Just work, in a sense, and he blinked out of it to see the old man and the girl compare their feet. All the way up the knee, this time, so he was getting better. Because switching too much of the souls at once would be bad, something he hadn't tested but was very sure about. Like old elastic creaking with protest, on the edge of snapping. An instinctive warning he felt more than knew.

Just like how he had to be careful not to touch too deeply, or in the wrong places, and remove parts of their personality. The brain might govern it, but messing with the soul part of memory was another thing that made him hesitate. Something about it felt wrong, like kicking kittens or stealing from a starving man. Hesitation not because of logic, or reason, but feeling.

Still, he practised. Originally he'd wanted to do this for at least a few days, no matter the risk Jaesa's parents might be gone by then, but as it was now? By the evening he was looking at the same three people, all very awkwardly looking at each other.

"I changed my mind." The old man spoke up, resisting the urge to touch his chest again. The girl had hit him with his own fist for that, something that had made her grimace. "Can we stay like this?"

The old woman, currently the only one in her original body, grunted. "We're still dying, if in new and exciting ways. You want to greet oblivion as you, old man, or a pretender?"

"If we're voting, I say change us back. Preferably before the old pervert molests me again."

"It's my body! What, you want me not to touch my own body?!"

"Yes." The girl scowled, crossing her wrinkled arms. "Very much so."

Morgan clapped his hands, shutting them up. "I'll change the two of you back after we do the tests."

They complied with various levels of enthusiasm, but they complied all the same. Blood, hair and teeth were tested with loaned equipment, the single medic he'd brought joining as he called. No need to have the man privy to everything here, even if he was necessary.

And he did his job, silent as the grave and working with steady hands. Morgan reflected this must have been strange for him, called off his normal routine and told by his commanding officer the sith wanted him. Just that, since this was a hush hush operation, but the man hadn't even blinked. Not when he showed up, back straight and carrying what few things Vette hadn't been able to get on short notice. Not when Morgan had ordered a full workup on three strangers, none of whom recognized him in civilian clothing, or when he clearly pieced together what was going on.

Morgan made a mental note to thank the man, for what little that was worth, and ask Quinn to keep an eye on him. Competence and loyalty should be rewarded, especially when going outside normal duties. The man nodded to the three volunteers, indicated the old man, and got to work.

It didn't take long, only around half an hour or so, and after getting a thumbs up he got started on changing them back. And, after another set of tests, he left them to it. Still chatting as they walked away, and Morgan smiled lightly. Who knew, maybe they'd remain friends.

For however long they still had, anyway. He tried not to think about that as he made his way back, nor the fact he could cure them by transmitting the disease to another, more deserving, target. But that would run the risk of Baras finding out he could fake death, and that would lead to a lethal amount of scrutiny. So he condemned three to die, and tried to feel worse about it than he did.

Boarding the hired shuttle to take him back to the ship gave him more time to think, which wasn't great, but necessity demanded it. A little more subtle than his own, with their Imperial decorations and such, though more expensive. For this subtlety was worth it, though, so while it took longer and cost more, he eventually made it back to the Aurora.

Where he met one impatient cube floating in circles, glaring at him as he entered his customary training room. "There you are. Tell me how it went."

"It went well." He replied, frowning. "And not to put too fine a point on it, but it was your idea to stay behind."

Teacher slowed, his tone more even. "It was. I would still like to know in more detail."

"It was easy. Comparatively speaking, anyway, but there were no setbacks. No missing gaps of skill I needed to figure out on the fly, or scrambling to fix mistakes. Just employing skills I already had in a different way or combining them, and then practise."

"That's no great surprise." The cube tilted forward slightly, resembling a nod. "It is not an ability I ever found much use for, but neither was it hard to acquire. A prized weapon in the intelligence service, I will admit, and I have bargained much for it in the past. Just as you are, if your stories aren't huge exaggerations."

Morgan shrugged. "I don't have much need for embellishing. Assuming I ever do need to impress or intimidate, words have so much less impact than swelling your aura. Or demonstrating you can kill them without breaking a sweat, though that tends to sour their opinion of you."

They were interrupted as Vette barged inside, ignoring Teacher entirely as she marched up to him. "You, fight me."

"Alright?" Morgan moved and picked her up, slamming her into the wall with just enough force the breath was knocked out of her. She blinked twice, making him shrug. "There, we fought. Can I finish my conversation now?"

She nodded faintly, making him turn. "As I was saying, it all went well. I'm going after the parents somewhere tomorrow, when Quinn locates their exact position, and by then their route off world should be ready too."

"Very well. We will train later, apprentice." Teacher floated off, his tone scathing. "You animals have fun exploiting redundant hormone systems."

Vette grinned, having composed herself. "We will!"

The door clicked shut, leaving them alone. Then it locked, a wildly grinning Vette turning to him. "Now, let me start off by saying that, should the mood ever strike you, picking me up and pushing me against the wall is something I'm all for. It was not, in this lone instance, what I meant."

"Then I'm not sure what you want? We stopped sparring because it wasn't getting us much."

"Very true. I, however, witnessed John beat up a jedi. A green jedi, which is a can of worms I'm not opening right this second. And it made me realise I've been taking this enhanced strength somewhat for granted, seeing as I rarely fight people that can match it anymore. Us fighting would help, hopefully, and you can practise battling people you can overwhelm in moments. You know, just in case a moment comes where you have to fight someone without killing them. Such as tutoring."

"Not killing?" Morgan shook his head, frowning. "But then why do I even have a lightsaber? I'm sith, I should be allowed to kill!"

Vette rolled her eyes. "That's you, the big bad sith everyone should be afraid of. And not someone that likes to cuddle after dinner or hugs me like a teddy when we sleep."

"I, for one, do not subscribe to the notion one should be ashamed of what brings them comfort. Or avoid what they like because they think it makes them less masculine, because nothing is more manly than being who you are."

"That's right, dear, you tell them." She rolled her eyes harder, stretching her shoulder. "But I'm serious. I want to get better at fighting Force users, just in case."

"We can spar, of course we can. But first, tell me about that super secret mission you've been all mysterious about."

"I wanted to wait until I had all the details." She huffed. "Team two didn't return until this afternoon, the lazy sacks of shit, and I don't care they had three wounded. You fucking call in when a mission goes south."

"Not so great, then?"

"What? No, all objectives were secured. Nomen Karr's influence on the planet has been kneecapped, all evidence of their existence erased. Full disclosure, that was mostly John. He used it as an excuse to shadow me, I guess. Show me some stuff. Elma did the best out of all of them, no casualties. The other two got the job done."

"She's your grooming project, right?"

She groaned. "Yes, but please don't say it like that. Of all the things I'm into, little girls aren't one of them."

"Good to hear she's living up to your expectations, in any case. Shall we get to sparring? I'm wondering how long you'll be able to keep your hands off me."

"Feeling confident, are we?" Vette shook her head sadly. "The horrors of the male mind. You let them tie you up once and they think you can't get enough of them."

"More than once, if memory serves."

"Irrelevant. But there was something else, actually."

"Oh?"

"Jaesa. What's the plan for her?"

Morgan tilted his head. "Assuming everything goes right? Take her as my apprentice, I suppose. Use her talents to secure my position in the Empire, make sure Baras won't be able to kill me without significant cost. Maybe train her as a je'daii, should she be interested."

"That your future sight talking?"

"Some. According to that, sparing her parents is good. So is not killing her master on Tatooine, but I failed that rather miserably. In my visions, however, she joins no matter what. I have a feeling it won't be quite that simple, though I'm open to being wrong."

"And after? You teach her Force magic stuff, she uses her talents so Baras won't come to kill us all. What then?"

"We live." He stepped closer, putting his chin on her head. "We try to stay alive. Build a base of power so others will hesitate to come after me. You keep working on becoming the queen of the underworld, the Enosis keeps growing. If we're strong enough we can do whatever we want."

She sighed, leaning into the hug, before pulling back. "I suppose so. Speaking of, let the 'abuse Vette' session begin."

"Sure." He grinned, mock sternness in his tone. "But after that we're sparring."