Value Loyalty Above All Else [Star Wars]

"This." Vette muttered, carefully setting down her datapad. "Is a screwup of such epic proportions I am considering having all three of you hanged."

Hanged. Goddess, she really was turning into Morgan. The rebellion leaders did look suitably chastised, at least, though not happier for it. Tough. If they could free Ryloth on their own, confident in their ability, they shouldn't have begged for her aid. "We tried, we did, but the hutts sent too many. Please, if you can send more warriors, do so."

"I would love to. Except that I can't single handedly supply an army large enough to free our planet, which was never the plan to begin with. I arrange for supplies, weapons, instructors and munitions. Everything needed to build and run a successful uprising. You supply willing, eager recruits who learn well and fight hard. I delivered, did I not?"

All three nodded with hesitant eyes, making her frown. Really, this was her own fault. They'd been slaves, or near enough, not two months ago, popularity notwithstanding. Being known was helpful, and saw many flock to their cause, but it seemed they didn't flourish under pressure. "You did, Lady. Please, we beg forgiveness."

"Fresh out. You'll get something much more useful instead, assuming you care at all about the plight of our people. Less responsibility. No more leading military matters, no more endless arguing about strategy and command. Dorka, my own left hand, will take that burden from you. Focus on recruitment, swaying others to our cause and crafting the new government. Tasks you should be suited for, yes?"

"My Lady, please." The man gritted his teeth even as he became twice as nervous, an interesting combination. She almost wished she was there in the room with them instead of half the galaxy away. "We need no outsider to lead us."

"He's effective, experienced and loyal. Two qualities more than the three of you seem to possess, but you can argue about who is which on your own time."

The only other woman present shot a glare at the man, her tone soothing. "Lady, Archos speaks in haste. Yonzo and I agree we are not suited, but this is too much. Our people were promised freedom by twi'lek hands."

"They were promised freedom." Vette countered, the last of her patience leaving her tone. "And it is done. He will arrive within the day, bringing his own personnel and captains. You are to impress the importance of cooperation, of following his command, or my assistance will stop. So help me Goddess, I will leave you all to burn."

They believed her. She hated that they believed her, she hated that she had to corral and threaten them like children, but her home would be free. Damn anyone, everyone, that got in her way, but her home would be liberated.

She cut the connection as they murmured agreements, exhaling. Being without her own people was a loss, she only had her Valkyries and Amelia, but Dorka would get the job done. He'd even been training mandalorians in his own image, with her permission, and seemed eager to blood them.

"That went well, I would say." Vette turned to look at the voice, shaking her head. Amelia smiled serenely. "They are not happy, no, but they will see this is for the best. Even if they do act against you, they hold no power."

"They have popularity, which does matter, but you're right. Let's go do anything but this."

Her aide raised a hand, making Vette pause. "A moment, if you please. I am finishing up the report and noticed your recollection was somewhat hastily done. I found this odd, seeing as you suggested them in the first place, and wish to ensure they are accurate."

"I found my criminal empire had grown large enough, and rich enough, to smuggle weapons to my home planet. We encountered people being worked or sold as slaves, found a local rebellion was brewing, and supported it. I'm pretty sure that's what I wrote down."

"You did." Amelia allowed, looking at her datapad. "What of Archos, Yonzo and Niama?"

Vette waved her hand dismissively. "Three leaders of their own separate movements, each focussed on a different thing. Archos was military, or what qualifies these days, while Yonzo ran a group of free merchants. Niama was, is, the matron of the Azure Moons, one of the more popular slave brothels. Intelligence, mostly, though she ran some assassination stuff. I put them in contact, used the fact people knew them to recruit and let them run the thing. Until five minutes ago, anyway."

"I see." She wrote it down with smooth motions, nodding. "And what of the hutts?"

"They own it, what else? Miraka and her people are interfering with their long distance calls, as well as their bank accounts, so their response is slow. They are buying us time to grow, but you know all this. Helped plan half of it."

Amelia shrugged her shoulders. "It is good to verify. What of the other branches?"

"Nar Shaddaa is rich, growing and the headquarters of our official holdings under the Medinal Corporation. Gregor is doing a fine job. Alderaan is getting back on its feet, Bob is just about done cleaning house, and I'm not going down the list of the others."

"Please. It would help."

Vette sighed deeply. "Yes mother. Manaan is slow going but making good money, though they're cracking down on our operations there. Vandor is functioning fine as a smuggling hideout, sparsely populated as it is, and we had to abandon Triffis. Corellia is being a pain, the less said about that disaster on Felucia the better and I'm really not going to list every station, port and moon we have a minor presence on."

"Of course not. I am happy you know all of this by memory."

She shot her aide an insulted glare, the former slave all but immune. "I'll have you know I'm good at things. You know, stuff. Like building syndicates and remembering where I send people to do what. Also dancing, but that's beside the point."

"I'm sure Lord Caro is perfectly satisfied, ma'am."

"I just said it was beside the point." Vette hissed, pointing at the togruta. "Why doesn't anyone ask him if he leaves me satisfied?"

"They hesitate because of fear."

"What, you're saying the armoured, armed sith Lord with vague, terrifying powers commands more fear than I do?"

"I'm afraid so, ma'am."

"Nonsense. I'll talk to him, see if we can't work something out."

Her aide moved away as she left her little safehouse, what Valkyries on duty nodding to her. Going back to Morgan's base was easy enough, as was entering, though she got a few looks. New people not used to her skulking about, probably. They'd learn soon enough.

His room was found without issue and entered without knocking, but as she did an unwelcome sight greeted her. Namely, another woman was there. One that, judging by the look of her, believed herself very comfortably at home. She narrowed her eyes as the human waved, scanning the rest of the apartment. No Morgan to be found.

"Hello."

"Not really." She replied, showing more teeth than was necessarily polite. "I don't know you, you're in a room no one is supposed to be in and I don't see the actual owner. Explain."

The interloper tilted her head, realisation dawning. "You must be Vette. Morgan told me about you, though not all that much. He's taking a shower, but the one here isn't hooked up yet. Excuse my appearance, he didn't take it easy on me. I'm Lana."

"I see. No, wait, I don't. How come someone didn't shoot you for trespassing?"

"I am a sith Lord, as much as I don't care for titles." Lana shrugged, stretching her shoulder. "Killing me isn't easy. Besides, your Master invited me."

Vette felt her relatively light mood drain, smile going with it. "He's not my Master. Leave, now."

"And I got here just in time." Morgan interrupted, putting a hand on her shoulder. She sent him a glare for sneaking up on her, as well as inviting strange woman into their room. That was her job, dammit. Not nearly as fun the other way around. "Lana, meet Vette. Vette, Lana Beniko. She's agreed to work with us for a while."

Lana eyed her with interest, standing as if the wind itself lent her its grace. "Charmed. Excuse me, the shower should be empty. Lord Caro."

"Lady Beniko."

Vette whirled on him as the door clicked shut, Morgan putting up his hands. "Just in case it needs to be said, I didn't sleep with her. Hell, I keep that locked down pretty much always anyway. Before you stab me, can I explain?"

"What? No, I'm not that shallow. She was sweating on my couch. I've got a good nose, it'll take me hours to clean it properly."

Morgan relaxed, smiling lazily. "I've never actually seen you clean. Neither of us do, really. I like to believe magic fairies come in when we're gone and tidy up."

"That's beside the point. Who is she, anyway?

"I met her eye on Korriban, which somehow resulted in her stalking me across the galaxy. Finds me interesting, another thing I don't get, and if I can convince her to be an ally she'll be invaluable. She should be working for Darth Arkous, but she's not. Probably my fault, though I don't know the timeline that well."

Vette ignored the slight anxiety attack that came whenever he talked like that, focusing on the much more important issue of her sith being stalked. "She seems nice."

"I don't know yet." He replied, kissing her forehead. "I love you, because I don't say that enough."

She knocked her head against his chest, mood brightening with treacherous speed. "And don't you forget it. She's sticking around?"

"For the time being. Jaesa vouched for her, which is good, but I'm trying to judge her for her. Gets confusing, sometimes, to reconcile what I remember with reality."

"Hmmn. You have dinner yet?"

"Nope. Spend the afternoon sparring with her and getting my ego thoroughly bruised. Here I thought thicker skin would be an advantage."

"My people picked up some chatter that the Republic is losing its shit over the fact a sith Lord entered Taris without their knowledge." Vette kissed him and moved deeper inside, ambeling over to the fridge. "I wouldn't worry about it. Oh yea, there's the fact a soldier is screaming her lungs out the jedi should send a kill team because apparently you flipped a tank?"

He shrugged, dropping on the couch. "I did do that, though I find it unfair sparing her life counted for nothing. Not that I used that strength against Lana, of course. Not used to it yet."

"Life's unfair. Did you cook yet? Can't find that pasta thing you said you made."

"Pretty sure that's still up on the Aurora."

Vette grumbled, poking around. "I found edible things, enough for three portions. Want to have her stay for the evening?"

"Sure. Are you-" He paused for a heartbeat, looking slightly too disinterested. "Are you adding stuff?"

That was cruel. "Don't be nervous, just reheating."

"I haven't been nervous since two thousand and four."

She ignored the weird reference with practised ease, throwing things out of containers and into pans. That was the key to cooking, really. Heating food in pans made it feel real.

Lana returned some minutes after everything was done, doing a pretty good job at being gracious. She took a seat when offered, saying all the right words, and even deferred to her when it came to eating. Not that Vette was fooled. The sith wanted something and she was going to find out what, no matter how knowledgeable her Morgan was.

He needed protecting from those that would abuse his good nature, she found, and doing that was one thing she and Quinn had in common. Him with his professional life, her with his private one. No lady flashing him a smile and being in his memory was going to take advantage while she was around, no sir.

"So." Lana said, appearing for all intent and purposes like she was visiting an old friend. "How did you two meet?"

Vette answered as Morgan inspected a piece of steak, sniffing it suspiciously. She kicked his shin, probably hurting herself more than him. Her cooking wasn't that bad. "Oh, you know. I was gifted to him as a slave, we completed his Korriban tasks together and found we worked well as a team. Pretty normal dating stuff."

"Really? I found Korriban horrible, effective and scarring. Who did you have as an Overseer?"

"No one. Straight to Darth Baras once I completed basic training."

That was a lie, Vette tilting her head. "Tell me, Lady Beniko, however did you get out alive? Miserable doesn't even begin to describe the place."

"Lana is fine, please. I survived with luck and fortitude, as I suspect many did. I left more than a few fellows behind."

Morgan nodded, smiling a sad smile. "Tell me about it. How did you learn basic saber skills? Droids were my teacher, and let me tell you I won't ever put my apprentices through that. Good last option, very not good at creating mentally stable students."

"Beasts, mostly." Lana flexed forearm, a motion she could find no fakeness in, and Vette refrained from interrupting. "Though I had a teacher or two when my Overseer sent us to the training rooms. I only learned my foundations properly when I graduated, months and months of practice as I did what my Master commanded. I'll be honest, I bought a treat when that man died."

"I feel that. If it wasn't for Soft Voice I'd be dead twice over, nevermind actually surviving Baras."

"Soft Voice?"

He looked up, eyes flickering to her as he shrugged. "It's no great secret, I suppose. I was trained in one of the special projects, funded by a Darth I never did learn more about, and only went to the academy proper for a little while. Soft Voice was the name I gave Zethix, seeing as it was better not to get attached. He taught me to fight back when I was fat and blessedly innocent."

"You, fat? Forgive me, I can't picture that."

Vette shot him a look, rolling her eyes. "Neither can I, really. He seems to forget he's ripped, sometimes. Must be all the magic assisted fighting he does."

"The Force does help one's figure." Lana allowed, looking at her. "Not that you seem any less for it."

"I keep in shape. What does a sith do, exactly, when she doesn't have a master? Seems a waste the Empire wouldn't tolerate."

"This and that." The woman shook her hand, the other spooning up a portion of meat. She, at least, didn't treat it like potential poison. "I keep away from other sith, most of the time, but there are plenty of projects that keep me busy."

"Not so much lately, if you're here."

"Not so much lately, no. What is it that you do, Vette? Morgan was rather vague about it."

Morgan looked at their guest with a bland expression, not responding to the bait, and she kicked his shin again. "I keep busy. How did training go? He told me you two sparred."

"We did. A good duelist, especially for one that hasn't been operating long. He must have no short list of admirers."

"Sycophants irritate him, as they tend to do. It can be a fine line to walk."

"Well, no matter." Lana's lips curved as she looked between them, humour dancing in her eyes. "It does seem you have him house trained, at least. Always a bad idea to get between ladies and their gossip."

Morgan shook his head, taking a drink before answering. "That's me, tame as a kitten. Say, my dear guest, would you mind doing me a favour?"

"You are my honoured host." She demurred. "It would only be proper."

"Stop sniping before I do something violent. This is my safe space, pardon the term, and I don't enjoy having to conform while inside it. Play your game, I expect little else, but do keep it civil."

If the sith was annoyed at the threat she didn't show it. "Why, it was never my intent to insult. Please, accept my humblest apologies."

"And people wonder why Lords keep dying around me like flies." Vette suppressed a smirk as Lana twitched ever so slightly. "Speaking of, how's Darth Arkous doing? It is ever so rare for them to entertain us new folk."

Lana's manner stuttered before she caught herself, smiling a demure smile. Then that slid off her face too, leaning back in her chair. "Talk like that has a goal, you know? To sound out the other person, able to retreat or advance without giving offence. Bringing a sledgehammer is plain uncivilised. You know very well that isn't public knowledge, which makes me wonder how you know. Which you knew would happen, and I can't help but feel there is a reason behind it."

"Me, having purpose? Don't be absurd. I'm a sledgehammer, remember? A common brute, good at killing and little else. Why, it sounds like you're suggesting I possess highly classified, tightly guarded information. That doesn't sound like me at all."

"You've made your point." She said, tilting her glass left to right. "No poking at business that isn't mine. I do get bored, you know?"

"Then find something productive to do."

His tone made her sigh, standing. "I think I'll leave you to your meal. Thank you, it has been a long while since I enjoyed something homemade."

"That was rude." Vette scolded, the door having clicked shut. "I was enjoying coming up with vague, threatening statements to make."

"I'm sure she can use her imagination, and it's important to set boundaries early. Dessert?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"Apologies for waking you." Quinn said, Morgan stepping inside. Slow mornings were a thing of the past ever since the Force became a permanent fixture in his life, but even so he still blinked blearily. At this point it would have been better not to go to sleep at all. "We have a problem."

"I would certainly hope so. Is it Lady Beniko related?"

"No, no. She left the base around four hours ago." A wave of the colonel's hand and the holo-table activated, projecting Taris as seen from space. "Nine minutes ago moff Hurdenn's people alerted us to an increase in Republic activity. Two minutes after that a signal going out of system was intercepted by the Aurora, calling for the immediate extraction of the War Trust. It was successfully diverted, fortunately, but only so because the communications officer was running unscheduled exercises."

"We got lucky. What did the moff say?"

Quinn shook his head. "We haven't heard from him yet. Were I in the position of the Trust, with one of my team going missing and his army ending up attacked, fortification and escape would be the order of business. They will try to contact off-world assets again, no matter that I've ordered captain Kala to maintain a full system-wide block, and wait for assistance."

"The Republic can't be happy about that."

"They aren't. Taris is a grey area concerning the Treaty of Coruscant, and as such they hold no major fleet close by, but all eyes are watching. Three cruisers have been observed to deviate from their normal patrols, mirroring Imperial vessels, and things are going to go very wrong very quickly unless we calm things down."

Morgan frowned, hoping his allies were feeling in a helping mood. "I'll talk to Bundu, see if he can't assist. The War Trust is supposed to be working in secret, anyway, so I doubt the Republic is all that happy about them kicking up a fuss. Can you handle the moff? Last thing I need is that man getting twitchy."

"I should be able to." Quinn said, tone doubtful. "Depends on whether your reputation will cow him enough to listen to reason. If he starts caring about the chain of command I am rather outranked."

"Tell him you speak with my authority, which just so happens to be true. Keep him contained, colonel. Continued peace might very well depend on it."

He strode from the room as his armour attached itself to him, telekinesis ensuring he wasn't slowed down. He forewent a helmet, seeing as it wasn't doing much anymore, but even without the weight of it was comforting. A full suit of Phrik would be invaluable, though Vette had admitted that was beyond her. The stash she'd found on Tatooine had been a treasure, apparently.

The communicator room was empty as he arrived, a sweep of the area revealing no curious troopers sticking around. His Chosen were loyal, yes, but the rank and file didn't need to know about his affiliation with jedi. Not yet.

Bundu picked up after two long seconds, face stark and eyes humourless. "Lord Caro. Might it seem reasonable to suspect you are responsible for the recent tension?"

"Yes. There was a reason I requested you and yours to be here. How are Kell and Gasnic?"

"Questioning their decision to follow me." The man kept his posture for another heartbeat, sighing deeply. "You say you do not want to start a war but assault Republic soldiers and kill high ranking generals. If I didn't know better I'd think you were playing me."

"But you do, and I am not. Frellka isn't dead, I need your help. Do I still have it?"

Another pause, the Knight sighing again. "You do. What do you need?"

"Information, for starters. What are the captains thinking, and are their decisions backed by the wider Republic? We intercepted the War Trust sending messages out of the system, which we put a stop to, but we can't exactly open fire if one of the cruisers decides to leave."

"Confusion reigns. The captains know nothing of the War Trust being on the planet, nor that you are here for them, and believe the convoys you attacked were part of the reclamation effort. They hope to pressure moff Hurdenn so that the man orders you to desist, once again knowing very little about the situation. I am trying to caution patience, but I am not well known."

Morgan tapped his fingers against steel. "So I'm the bloodthirsty sith attacking peaceful settlers, great. The Republic?"

"Political. No one seems quite willing to take responsibility for the mess, adopting a hand-off approach until they learn more. What of Darth Gravus? I heard rumours he was overseeing Imperial interests on the planet."

"Not here, and if he was he's not so now. I doubt the Empire would waste one of their precious Darth's, no matter how bad it would be for the Republic to resettle the place. The confusion is good, at least. Do you think it will last?"

"Not if you keep being this aggressive." Bundu grunted, turning away. A short few words were exchanged with someone Morgan couldn't see, the man's attention returning. "But otherwise, probably. No one wishes for open warfare, least of all them. Not to say they won't if pressed, and you know I have no command over them. I am an advisor and a symbolic one at that."

"Do what you can. Thank you, my friend. I would not be here had I another feasible choice."

Bundu hesitated, speaking after scanning whatever room he was in. "I believe you. Should it come to war, I will not fight with them. Be kind, if you can. Too many here share your desire for peace."

The connection cut before Morgan could respond, hearing the door open not a second later. Vette all but draped herself over him as she yawned, sleepy eyes blinking at him. He thought about explaining, asking for her advice, and picked her up instead. She nestled her head on his shoulder as he walked out, smiling down at her as she promptly fell asleep again.

An hour and a half later he found himself sitting down at a much more formal briefing, Quinn's high command sneaking glances whenever they thought he wasn't looking. Only Jillins and his second refrained, which just went to show exposure really did cure fear.

Not that they felt afraid, but every now and then he liked to pretend.

"Let us begin." Quinn pointed to the centre of the table, a report being projected for all to read. "Approximately two hours ago we intercepted an attempted communication to out of system assets, which originated from the War Trust. Soon afterward Republic forces began patterns of mobilisation, lockdown and increased patrols, all of which we have responded to with the following."

Morgan listened with half an ear as the colonel recapped the day, which had started far too early, and let his mind wander. Coming up with solutions wasn't his stronger side, though not the weakest either, and he found not actively looking for one helped. To let the mind wander and digest information, making connections and discarding plans more on autopilot than direct planning.

Not that one was forthcoming, sadly. He focussed as Quinn continued, the man's eyes flickering to him. "As for what we learned about the War Trusts objective, it is as follows. Having finished combing through the data recovered from the mining operation general Frellka was overseeing, as well as the man's own interrogation, they appear to be working on a new brand of weapons technology. How, exactly, they are turning the residue from a trillion dead into advanced energy cells remains opaque. With the operation's destruction the project faces months of delay, if they ever recover at all."

"How does this correlate to the other generals' activities?" Jillins asked. "Perhaps more importantly, do they have functioning prototypes?"

"It matters because they appear to be protecting what remains of their mission, and we do not know if they managed to fabricate any working weapons. The data had been encrypted quite thoroughly, something I expect will only become worse without the element of surprise."

The meeting went on from there, with plans and contingencies being proposed and debated, but soon enough Morgan found himself reaching the same conclusion they had. The Republic had to be calmed down, their actual locations had to be found and there would be no more large scale engagements. Not as openly as before, at any rate. And here he thought having a large army would simplify things.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Morgan settled down on the floor as Jaesa entered, her eyes cast low. He resisted the urge to sigh, knowing it would do more harm than good. Who knew teaching could be this difficult? "I am not angry, Jaesa. It takes a great deal more than that and makes itself known much more readily."

"I can't tell if you're lying." She admitted. "It isn't right, you know? I'm supposed to be able to tell. Sith are meant to be filled with wrath and spite, exploding at the slightest provocation. Nothing I've been taught applies, less what I've experienced correlates to what I expected. I don't know, not really, what you want. People have told me, insisted you don't desire anything but our best, and I find it so very hard to believe. To stop myself from expecting the worst."

He looked at her, tilting his head. "I can't control what others see in my actions, as much as I wished I could, nor can you undo the past. All we have is the present, the choices we make, and how we plan to act in the future. I am not all good, Korriban beat that out of me very thoroughly, but I wish to be decent. To give others a chance, especially if they afford me the same courtesy."

"Was it truly that bad? The jedi know so very little about what goes on there."

"It is a crucible." Morgan took a moment, failing briefly to put it into words. "A trial without end. Imagine instructors that wish to forge you into something great, but expect most of you to die in the process. Who are given classes of dozens, yet only need deliver one. Complete power over those they teach, expected to cull all who prove unworthy. Day after day, week after week. Months and months until you find yourself surviving for a year, shocked at what you have become. Survival, I suppose, is the word that suits it best. You survive Korriban and take what it taught you to the stars, learning you didn't escape the chains as thoroughly as you imagined."

"But I am not a slave. You will not stand for them, I feel that clearly if nothing else. Not one inch, one second, will you tolerate the coerced and bound."

Morgan tilted his head, nodding. "I will not. Much I have done I regret, done what I would not have chosen otherwise, and never will I force others to make the same choices. To carve themselves, piece by piece, until they fit the mould required to survive. The more power I wield the more I discover how powerless I am, but that I will not bend on. If you so choose you can leave tonight. This very second, if you but say the word. I will not pretend to be virtuous, Jaesa, but I will never never be a slaver."

"I know." Her tone was soft, considering, and she looked at him with curious eyes. "You are something else, aren't you? Something that should not be. It whispers, sometimes, and I shy away from it. From shields that make me shudder, the Force that watches me like an infant god, and impresses on me the foolishness of attacking you. I wonder, sometimes, and wish I didn't."

"We are who we are. No matter the circumstances, no matter the price, sometimes we must stand for what we believe in. Enough of eldritch things. Tell me about Lana. About who she is."

Jaesa took a breath, tone becoming more distant. "A wind blowing ever onward, seeking that which entertains it. Purpose without a goal, never knowing when it will find what it craves. Curiosity tempered by hardened steel, cutting deep should it be betrayed. She is complicated."

"Treacherous?"

"Her motives are pure." Her expression became slightly teasing, testing, in a way he found encouraging. "Eager, sometimes. Not good, necessarily, and she will do terrible things if she believes them to be necessary, but closer to you than most other sith. She will make a fine lover, Lord."

"Don't you start. Vette is thorny enough as is, and neither of us want to see her truly territorial."

She winced. "Yes, I suppose we don't. Never knew those without the Force could inspire fear like that."

"Hard times." Morgan shrugged. "Regardless, how did you fare on the mission? I prefer to hear it in your own words."

"Badly. Or very well, depending. I killed not a soul, completed my objective and saved some of those under my charge. The Republic soldiers hated me like I was evil itself and appealing to their better nature earned me nothing but scorn. I. Master Karr always told me they stand for something greater. Something good."

"Soldiers are soldiers. Exchange any one on either side and you won't be quick to spot the difference." He shook off his discomfort, speaking anyway. "Take the Chosen, though they are not typical. Why are they so loyal?"

"Because you gave them power."

"True. Why does that matter to them? They are not sith, nor politicians, and some don't ever wish to rise above their current station. Why do they care beyond some initial fascination?"

Jaesa was silent for a long moment, voicing her answer like a question. "Because they worship you?"

"That's circular reasoning and not something I encourage on either topic. They care because their lives are hard, filled with death and sacrifice. Being stronger, more enduring, makes them more likely to survive. Whatever path led them here, they realised becoming part of Chosen ranks increased their survival rate instead of decreasing them."

"No." She seemed surprised at her own firmness, though she overcame it quickly. "It makes sense for most, for many, but not all. Some burn with fire so bright it nearly blinds me, reason and logic hidden behind devotion. That cannot be inspired by borrowed power alone."

"Given, not borrowed. And that isn't what's bothering you. You don't have to tell me, not now or later, but do decide if it is something you can work through on your own. If not, seeking help is so much less painful than the alternative."

Jaesa didn't speak, he nodded, and their lesson continued as normal. Alyssa and Inara, while not true sith, didn't really seem to care about where their power came from. They meditated closer to his way than not, but he rarely oversaw their practice or Je'daii training. His newest apprentice, however, very much wanted to find out. To learn the mindset he had outlined and develop along paths she never thought she would.

It was routine, in a way, as they finished flushing out her system and securing the purity of her reserves. He ended her guided meditation with a spar, which he found helpful to gauge her progress, and nodded. She was growing, especially now that she knew the basics of fleshcrafting and the strength it granted her, but it was clear she held no great love for fighting. Fortunately for both of them, Bundu had been more than amenable to send over some of his own training regiments. Those of stealth and ambushes, damn the inability to conceal her gift.

Without using it her stealth was as good as his, the challenge would only push her to greater heights and he waved her off as she bowed. Another few minutes and he stood, shaking his leg from where the lightning hadn't fully dissipated. His lack of control in using that had been sloppy, nearly launching himself face first into steel plating, and practice was slow. It had an all-or-nothing quality to it he found hard to modify.

He made his way out himself, slowly walking through the base as he massaged sore muscles. Fleshcrafting made that art rather more effective than normal, a neat trick he didn't find himself using all that much, and he walked past an engineering station with the door ajar.

Morgan paused, taking a few steps back until he faced the room properly. There, just about visible through the crack, was a body.

The door flung open as he strode inside, finding a man bent over said body. Morgan picked him up and slammed him against the wall, keeping him there as he looked around. A stack of datapads had spilled over the floor, the woman currently knocked out had an almost comical bruise on the back of her head and seemed half undressed.

John grimaced, face shifting to an easy smile as Morgan faced the Cipher fully. "So, this is all a massive misunderstanding."

"Simplify it." His knife bit deep just beside John's neck, a surge of power countering a reflexive jerk. "Quickly."

"Woman is spy, has information packet buried in her abdomen. Found out, ambushed her, went to remove it. Mind putting me down?"

Morgan didn't, eyes narrowing. "And why not bring this to my attention, or Quinn's?"

"Need a favour, figured it could score me some easy points. Made a mess of that, I'll admit." He struggled briefly before relaxing. "Is it just me or have you gotten stronger?"

"So you break into the base of a sith Lord, bypass his security and assault one of his soldiers? Tempting the wrath of those you do not know, where my apprentices would cut first and ask questions never, and risk engaging Chosen who make ready for war? That is a rather grave error in judgement, but I suppose you've done right by me in the past. Fetch me proof of your accusation."

John moved to the body the moment his feet touched the ground, a scalpel appearing in hand. "Like I said, I made a mess of it. Full disclosure, I was curious. Didn't really think you'd teach your apprentices on how to enforce others, so the rumours of an army of Chosen rang false. Seems I've been away too long, eh?"

"Proof, cipher four. Your continued health depends on it."

"You've lost your sense of humour." The spy cut a neat line and dug his finger into it, extracting a small chip within seconds. "One encrypted, treasonous piece of tech. Unlocking it wouldn't take more than a few moments, really. Shame your apprentice didn't catch her, but then I suppose there's no substitute for skill."

The door opened again as a sergeant walked inside, four men on her heels. The Chosen saluted, her men keeping their weapons down but ready. "How can we be of service, sir?"

"Arrest this woman and ensure she cannot commit suicide. Bring what she carries to the colonel's office, and if he doesn't learn anything interesting it is the last I want to hear about its existence. Jaesa isn't foolproof, John, and I never claimed her to be. Neither is creating an overreliance on her skills what I wanted."

John handed over the chip with a shrug, stepping aside as the woman was picked up. Not a Chosen, thankfully. He'd have to get personally involved if it had been. "Calling security, boring but sensible. How the mighty have fallen. A figure of speech, mind."

The sergeant left after Morgan nodded, turning back to the spook. John had picked up one of the datapads, swiping without seeming to care much about direction, and raised his eyebrow when he looked up. The man stayed silent as Morgan did, gaze slowly returning to the device, and gave a sigh when he didn't rise to the bait.

"You know, I think I liked you better as a green apprentice. Less ominous silences, had to invoke the name of others to inspire fear, actually seemed somewhat wary about what I could do. Now it's all 'sticking people to walls' and 'if you don't speak this very second I'm taking an organ'. Honestly, it's like one little title strips all the chill from people."

"What do you want, John?" Morgan ground out, forcing his lips to remain stern. "Believe it or not, I have work to do."

"And that is exactly what I came to help with."

"You said you needed a favour."

Cipher four shrugged. "I did. But I also came bearing gifts, just in case. You see, I found the generals. Hidden away like scared mice, trembling at the very mention of your name. Terrified people make mistakes, though, and theirs led to their downfall. Honestly, not hooking their power generators up to a silencer. Don't they know seismic equipment can pick up things like that?"

"That's a good gift." Morgan admitted, frowning. "What's the price?"

"Nothing major. And don't think of it as a price, friend of mine. Just two buddies exchanging favours, nothing more. Life gets so much easier when you have stout companions. Just need a little signature and I'm happy as can be."

"Don't call me fat. What for and will it blow back on me?"

John waved his hand. "I haven't actually seen a fat sith that wasn't putting on a front, fucked with their metabolism or just freed from captivity. Mostly the first two, admittedly. And no, it won't. Not before you blow the whole thing skywards anyway, at which point it won't matter. What for, well. Let's just call it intimidation."

"When you say things like that it makes me believe you're lying."

"Downplaying, very different. Say, you wouldn't mind signing the piece of paper now, would you? It'll be a big help."

Morgan looked at the man, peeling his soul bare with barely a thought. Few secrets could be divined, he wasn't Jaesa and the man was too good at regulating emotions, but it helped him think. The fact John seemed to notice, and had to suppress discomfort, was just a bonus. "I'm going to do something naive and decide to trust you. Don't make me regret that, please. Neither of us will enjoy what happens afterward."

"Sure, of course." A flash of something unreadable replaced his expression, gone after a moment. "Here's the thing. While you sign it, just boilerplate stuff there's no need to read, I'll regale you with a tale most daring."

"Skip to the part where you tell me the coordinates."

"Rude beyond reckoning, you are. That sort of insensitivity can make one all sorts of enemies. I am not one of them, fortunately, so I will accept your barbaric lack of taste with grace and humility. Trade?"

He handed over the datapad he'd been fiddling with as Morgan returned the signed document, having skimmed the first paragraph. Something to do with operating in Imperial space without Keeper oversight and removing Minder one-dash-nine from their regular duties. Whatever that meant. The list of exact locations was much more informative. "How smoothly business goes when you leave poetry out of it."

"And how bored I get having nothing to fill my time with but harsh contracts and harder days."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Stop whining, you're supposed to be old. Old people have dignity. Venerated wisdom. All you have is complaints."

"You don't speak to many old people, do you?"

"That's very true. With only you as my sample size all senior citizens are hardened spies, unable to speak without deceit twisting their words and horrible kleptomaniacs. It's a wonder they don't rule the world."

Cipher four leaned back, an insulted look on his face, before it melted into something predatory. "We are in the business of conquering stars, Lord Caro. Settling for a single planet would be a disservice to our potential. Speaking of which, let's talk about this one. And how we can make it fear the day it attracted my personal attention."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"I am fine, apprentice." Teacher huffed, floating upwards. The silence that followed when he missed the table made Morgan wince, the man's voice a little forced. "Not fine, perhaps. Put me somewhere dignified, would you? I am dying, not dead, and prefer not to be discarded like trash just yet."

Morgan did, being a little more careful than he otherwise would have been. "You did promise not to die before teaching me everything you know."

"That is not how people grow. I have trained you in the basics, shown you a few of my techniques that suit you well. The rest will come with time and experimentation, from which you will learn more than I could ever preach."

"I doubt enhanced strength and a thick skin is the sum of your power."

"Of course not. I could instruct you on how to mould the minds of prisoners, removing their independence while retaining skill. I could show you the finer details of shapeshifting, tell you every secret and piece of arcane knowledge I acquired over my long life. What will that do, hmm?"

"Make me strong?"

Teacher scoffed. "Obviously. A bumbling ape could rule entire star systems with the things I could teach, and you are far from the mundane. But where would that leave you? Walking the steps I used to, making the same mistakes and contributing nothing to the discipline? You will do things I have never imagined doing, things you would not do if I told you they were impossible. A creative mind, hardened by failure and sharpened by need, that is how we grow. How we rise above those that came before. But fear not, I still have a number of things to impart."

"I am in awe. This humble disciple is unworthy."

"Be that I was still in my prime, where hundreds of you would compete viciously for the honour of being my apprentice."

"I'm sure that made for stable, well adjusted pupils."

"It did not." The man admitted sourly. "Too late in life did I learn the value of loyalty, both in giving and receiving. I am happy that is one area you do not resemble me in, but enough of ancient problems. We, you, will harden the spine along with your ribs. The first bone hardening session we will do, and far from the last. Complete mastery will see every inch of your frame unbreakable, even lightsabers whining at their durability. It is one of the better survival techniques I developed, if not able to be done on others."

Morgan tilted his head. "I bet. Being sturdy sounds useful, and why not give this to the Vette?"

"Because it needs constant vigilance to maintain balance with the body. This is not a one and done procedure, like what you did to the Chosen, but more like we did with your skin. The body will try to reject the changes, something that you must prevent. I was able to ensure it was slow, so that one does not die in their sleep, but make it a habit to check it over. And yes, it is useful. Falling from great heights will do little more than bruise, losing limbs a thing of the past. It is the power of those able to endure, to survive, that often wins the battle."

He fell silent as Morgan closed his eyes, some minutes later, and he took the time to get into a proper frame of mind. This was no exercise or training, though neither was he going to sprint full speed ahead without some caution, but aside from making him stronger, this was a test. Teacher had explained the theory, what the common pitfalls were and how to avoid them, and the rest was up to him. To struggle and adapt, as he would have to do soon enough.

Because there was no fixing the holocron. He had tried his hand at artefact crafting, hoping he might perhaps share the same affinity for that as he did fleshcrafting, and found himself sorely disappointed. Teacher had mocked him, expecting to master a discipline in months where it had taken the man decades, but even he had sounded disappointed. Hoping for a miracle, he supposed. Both of them.

But there were no miracles, no wishes granted, that were not made with mortal hands. Made through expertise, sacrifice and hard work.

Morgan shook the thought away, putting his focus on false rib number ten. No ribs were unimportant, really, so it was as good a place to start as any. The whole thing, as Teacher had explained, was deceptively easy. Filling the bone with more bone, condensing it down, then infusing it with the Force. Done properly, bonding deep and steady, vastly increased durability. It could also detonate into hundreds of lethally sharp shards, shredding everything in sight. No power without a price.

He worked slow, pressing down while urging more to grow, and he understood why Teacher had waited so long. Without his control, gained both from fleshcrafting and telekinesis, the whole thing would have gone horribly wrong already. With none of the practice he gained controlling vast amounts of energy gained from the lightning, a name that made the man grumble endlessly, it would have destabilized and blown apart.

But he had, so he opened his eyes with a victorious smirk on his face. "Done."

"And it only took forty five minutes. One of twenty four, so I suppose this might take a while. Do the whole rib cage first, since it is far less delicate than the spine, but I suppose you can do so on your own. Not that I can do much to help, of course. Moral support, that is what I am."

"I have someone else for that." Morgan rebuked. "And frankly, she looks much better cheering me on than you do."

"One little success and his ego blooms. I shall soon be without an apprentice, I would think, for my current one will die challenging the sun. Tell me of your idea and if you managed to make it less suicidal."

"You said it was inspired."

"I said it was possible. Lots of things are possible. Progress, apprentice. Tell me."

Morgan grunted. "It's going fine. This will help, good practice, but I'm still looking for the right subject. I wrote down a summary, if you're interested."

"I would be, yes. Timeframe?"

"If I'm lucky? Weeks. If not probably months."

"You don't have months. Maybe not even weeks. Baras will find out, he will come for you, and if you are not ready you will die."

Teacher sighed as Morgan shrugged. "I don't know what you want here. I'm working on it, it seems promising, and if not I'll have to figure something else out. Running to the edge of known space is always an option, building a life there."

"Is that what you want? For those you love? For yourself?"

"I will do what I need to." Morgan spoke, feeling the truth of it in his bones. "Whatever I damn well need to. I will try, I will kill and fight and struggle, but if they make me choose between those I love and abandoning a million souls, those souls will burn."

"Good. Resolve, apprentice. Resolve is what matters. More than power, more than purpose and goals and goodness, resolve is what separates petty tyrants from Gods. From bullies wielding their power, impressing a thousand, to Emperors who trillions kneel to. I rose high, so very high, and I expect nothing less from you. Remember your resolve and nothing will break you. Remember your resolve and nothing can withstand your might."

"Resolve." His perception turned inwards, bending the Force to his will. It sprung to action like an eager hound, feeling almost gleeful. "I am your apprentice, and, in large part, the man I am because of you. This I can swear, Teacher. I will not go quietly into the dark."