Value Loyalty Above All Else [Star Wars]

Morgan took a steadying breath as he fought to maintain his posture, meditating cross-legged in his room. No one else was here, neither Vette nor Lana, and the door was locked. Failing wouldn't be so bad.

But he didn't want to fail. Now more than ever, perfecting skills was important. This one was a while coming yet, practising whenever he didn't have something more important to do, and by all the hells it was going to work.

He smiled widely as the door opened and he didn't lose concentration, balancing the strings every so carefully. Vette stalled as he turned to her, gently tugging at the framework, and she rolled her eyes. "Why are you flying over the table?"

"Why do you open locked doors like they aren't?" He countered, dragging himself up slightly higher. "Come on, admit it, you're impressed."

"Impressed you've found a way to lower my opinion of the Force yet again, maybe."

"Don't be jealous. Flying like this is just the most wonderful, relaxing feeling I've had in ages. Nothing for you to covet."

Vette threw an apple, which he intercepted, but the lack of attention broke the web of strings. Morgan grunted as he fell, managing to at least maintain his posture, and glared at her. "That was uncalled for."

"You said covet. I throw fruit at fancy people. Balance in all things."

"At least let me brag about how I did it?" He caught a flash of interest before she covered it, drawing himself up. "Very good. In essence, through arduous training and that utter filth you had me look at, I came up with an idea. My near perfect control allows me to separate strong bonds of telekinesis into thousands of smaller ones, each possessing but a fraction of power. Attaching these to my own body and my surroundings allows for fine motor control, letting me mimic flight."

She pointed a finger at the ceiling, her other hand tapping on her datapad. "As long as you're indoors, which can't be too big, and sacrificing grounded balance for a slight increase in mobility. Which you already had through Force assisted agility and strength. Also, that was shibari suspension. It's an artform."

"It's degenerate filth and you know it. Maybe once things calm down and I can properly learn it."

"That could be weeks." She complained. "Months, even. Come on, with my increased strength nothing will go wrong."

Morgan shook his head, reconnecting the web. He rose, if slowly, and he tested their strength. She wasn't entirely wrong, sadly. Limited flight didn't have many practical applications. Good control training, though. "And we agreed it's up to me to set limits. I'm not saying no, I'm saying later."

"Fine, be that way." She huffed, moving to throw a pillow. He managed to block it without losing balance, adding it to the web. Vette rolled her eyes again. "Now you're just showing off."

"This is hard to do! I can't use myself as a base, these strings have to be strong and it's allowing me to test their stability. Good for all sorts of practical, useful applications."

"I'm sure it is, dear."

He sniffed, dropping down and turning away from her. "Well, I brought you a gift, but now I'm not so sure you deserve it."

"A gift?" She bounded over, draping herself over his shoulder as if he had it in hand. "Mine? Give? Give now?"

"Only if you compliment my magic trick."

"It was beautiful and wonderful and powerful and successful." She praised, not meaning a word of it. Morgan glared as she leaned closer, poking his chest. "Gift now?"

"No. You were mean, now you don't deserve nice things."

She drooped in a way he knew to be fake, sadness filling her frame, and he scolded himself for feeling bad anyway. Vette perked up as he sighed, flexing the Force to bring over the present. "You're a horrible, manipulative person."

"I'm your horrible, manipulative person." She corrected, turning the box over in her hands. "How does it open?"

"Not with your hands. Had to find some way to stop you from peeking, didn't trust locks or hiding places to do the job, so it can only be opened with the Force. Wasted effort, apparently. You didn't even look."

Vette poked it before shifting her grip, moving to break it open. Morgan snatched it away, making her pout. "Don't you dare take it back now."

"Breaking my presents like some barbarian." He clicked it open as the puzzle completed, complex enough neither of his apprentices could have managed it. More wasted effort, though making it hadn't been hard thanks to his practice maintaining Teacher's holocron. "But fine, here."

She stole it back, opening it before tilting her head. "A gun?"

"A Siantide blaster, yes." He watched her pick it up, ready to grab her wrist if she looked to try it out here and now. She didn't. "One of their heavy repeaters took my leg clean off, so it should pack some punch. Make sure to test against something sturdy, I'm not sure how strong it really is."

Her face lit up as he explained, grinning. "A rare, prototype weapon with unknown levels of power. You really do know the way to a girl's heart, don't you?"

"The cell powering it should last the rest of your natural life." He added, pleased. "Stable stuff, especially for how unstable it was in raw form. It's the only part that's really special, the rest can be modified as you see fit. One of a kind, and it'll remain like that. I'm not handing the Empire, or anyone, the means to reproduce this on a mass scale."

"I love it." She leaned against him in a half hug, voice growing soft. "I didn't get you anything."

"Aside from a battleship, several corporations and a truly staggering amount of money? Oh, and Phrik. Can't forget that ultra rare, lifesaving material. And a second ship. And information. And I can't think of anything else, but I'm sure there's more."

Vette shook her head. "That's impersonal, helping out with the mission."

"I got you a gun." He pointed out dryly. "Making you more dangerous. Really, it's fine."

Her tone grew insistent. "I care about guns. You don't really like weapons and ships and money. Oh, you'll take it, use it, appreciate it, even, but it's not like you can't get that any other way. I'll find something, you just wait."

She dragged him to the couch as he swallowed his denial, knowing it would be ignored. She was feeling cuddly, apparently, and Morgan found no issue in the slightest indulging her need to lounge on the couch. He had some spare time, even, which made it even more relaxing. Trying to do so while knowing you were getting behind on other work wasn't the most soothing.

Her fingers were drawing symbols over his shirt as he rested his head, luxuriating in the steady pulse of her being. The time when her Force resistance stopped him from feeling her had passed some time ago, allowing him to pseudo-meditate on her soul, and if he was honest it really wasn't as great a defence as he'd like.

Able to lessen or outright stop weaker attacks, sure, but it wasn't going to do anything if some jedi Knight or Master wanted her gone. Forget about sith Lords, and the time she had been captured on Tatooine came to mind. It had ended well, better than well, but the sheer anger he'd felt had been surprising. And disturbing, though deep meditation had shown it was purely human made.

"So, how does this work?" He focussed on the present, seeing Vette had rolled up his shirt. Apparently drawing on skin was more fun. "The extra heart, I mean."

"Well, it allows me to love you twice as much."

She slapped him over the shoulder, though he spotted a small smile on her face. "I'm serious."

"So am I, but if you must know. An extra heart wasn't hard to make, I already had one and copying is always easier than designing, and hooking it into my circulatory system was straightforward enough. Allowing for continuous blood flow, instead of waiting between each beat, has its advantages. I won't bore you with the details. Safe to say, getting one damaged when you have two is much less crippling."

"Sounds cool, I guess, but I meant how did you fit it in? Remove part of your lungs?"

"Oh, god no. I made both smaller, since its muscle my reinforcement effects it, and I only really had to ensure my arteries didn't shrink with them. I only stopped my heart four times while doing so, and before you hit me, that was a joke."

She lowered her hand slowly, eyes suspicious. "For some reason I don't think it is."

"Well, I mean." He looked away, ignoring her glare. "Technically speaking I was never in any danger."

Vette bit his arm, which made him turn, and he snickered when she couldn't break the skin. Then her jaw flexed and she did so anyway, his fingers flickering her forehead. "No stealing my blood."

"I'll steal whatever I please." She denied, watching the small bite-mark fade and disappear. "So I suppose you'll do the same with the rest of your organs?"

"Make them smaller and efficient before shuffling them around? Pretty much."

"Morbid. Also cool."

"Morbidly cool, I agree. Then again, my definition of morbid has changed over the years."

She hummed, poking his side. He retaliated by dramatically falling over, trapping her underneath as he went boneless. Vette accepted it with surprising ease. "Now that I'm locked here forever, doomed to wither and die, whatever is the Enosis up to? Feels like they kind of abandoned you after the ceremony on Korriban."

"I didn't tell you?" Vette shook her head, ignoring the fact it banged against his neck. Rude. "Nothing exciting. Soft Voice seemed insistent they'd prepare and lessen their need on Imperial supply lines. Actually, I'm pretty sure he's hired you for it."

"He did? Oh, no, I remember. Kinda mostly had Amelia deal with that. Nothing exciting, as you said. Food, medical supplies, lightsaber materials. Not kyber crystals, though. Those damned things are annoyingly hard to get. Guns too, lots and lots of guns. Might have put them in contact with a rogue shipyard out in deep space somewhere. I'd have to check."

Morgan ignored her wiggling, nudging one of her lekku to the side. "Please don't rip off my friends. Well, friend. Either way."

"Don't need to. Apparently they don't report even half of the money they make from battle, if that. Bringing in millions and millions for little old me."

"Sometimes I wonder how in the hell you manage to run a galaxy wide crime syndicate and still have time for cuddles. You know, without people immediately seizing control the moment you turn your back."

Vette shrugged. "How do you?"

"I hold a rather great amount of personal power, collected a startlingly competent second in command and lead soldiers, not thieves and mercenaries. I also don't leave them alone much."

"Eh. Don't forget my strength is still intimidating, even if you massively outclass it. Different circles we play our games in, to say the least. And I did pretty much the same, you know? Amelia is sent by the Goddess, Dorka is much too happy fighting to consider taking over and I made sure to build the illusion I'm dangerous."

"You are. Insane too, usually the good kind."

A nock on the door interrupted her reply, making Vette shoot it with a glare. It intensified briefly as Lana's voice rang out, vanishing as he turned. She shrugged. "Go have fun with your friends."

"Oh yes, such fun." He leaned over and stood, kissing her on the head as equipment attached itself to his body. "Finding the last general, on high alert for more Siantide weaponry, trekking through swamp after swamp. Truly, my dream come true."

She waved as he left, turning to her datapad. Doing god knows what, though it would probably involve crime. She'd complained her official holdings were boring, requiring nothing but mindless paperwork, and promptly shoved the whole mess on Amelia's lap. The poor woman.

Last he heard she was building a department to take care of it, though that had been before Alderaan. Hadn't seen her much, something which suited him just fine. The togruta hadn't made as much progress with her fascination as he'd like.

"Am I not enough to hold your attention?" Lana asked, raising an eyebrow. "We are going into battle again, thanks to your apprentice. It seems her suspicion that Minst knew more than he should paid off."

He shrugged, nodding to the lieutenant to get on with it as they arrived at the gate. "She's good at what she does. Speaking of, how are we looking?"

"Good, sir." The woman saluted, her squad standing at ease. Actually at ease, too, and he recognized a few familiar faces. Used to sith, or at least his version of them. "The craft is prepared and my men are ready. Objective?"

"Capture general Faraire, preferably unwounded, and neutralise any security he has. Alive, if possible, but I won't micromanage your men in active combat."

"Understood."

They boarded the transport as Lana struck up an idle conversation with one of the specialists, the older man's answers short and to the point. Morgan let her have fun, watching as they took to the air. A low altitude would be required, to avoid any over-sensitive Republic equipment, and to their luck the general hadn't made his base close to a Republic one. Probably afraid of spies.

He sure had been, before Jaesa. Now he enjoyed a blessedly informant-free base of power, something few in the Empire could boast of. Unlikely to remain that way as they grew, she was already stretched to the limit at four thousand, but that was fine. A private never knew as much as a captain, they not as much as a colonel. Having her screen officers would have to do.

The rest could amuse themselves with Quinn's ever growing internal investigations unit.

He nodded to Lana as stepped next to him, raising an eyebrow as he kept staring at the planet. A desolate, ruined wasteland that once used to house trillions. Families and soldiers and bakers and more, all gone because one sith wanted another dead. The apprentice turning against the Master, one who didn't even remember being such at all.

Revan. Here's hoping he'd never have to deal with that mess, truth-seeing old woman on Dromund Kaas notwithstanding. "Does it bother you, sometimes, about how much power we possess?"

"Not once." Lana denied smoothly. "We are born to conquer, to dominate, and we cannot deny our nature. That is what you expect me to say, no?"

Morgan shrugged. "Maybe. Look at that. What do you see?"

"A waste. People that could have been turned to a better purpose bombed for reasons we could not begin to guess at."

"For power." He corrected. "Always for power. In the forms of money or reputation or fear, but always for power. Tell me, oh sith Lord. What would you do if this planet was under your control? As it once was, I mean."

She sighed. "Kill the alien, enslave the young, recruit the zealous. Can you start asking questions you did not already answer for me?"

"Tell me, then"

"Stimulate the economy, strengthen defences." Lana waved her hand, indicating a quickly disappearing crater-lake. "Avoid that at all costs. Recruit those I think loyal, build an administration working in my interests. And no, I don't particularly care about blood purity or human centric idealism. All beings suck equally."

It startled a snort out of him, making him shake his head. "That they do. Are you talking to me for a reason? I heard you amusing yourself with the specialist."

"I need no excuse to speak to you." She sniffed. "And he proved too agreeable. If you insist, however, I did find an irregularity."

"In my flawless operational command? Impossible."

Lana ignored the sarcasm, indicating the men. "Why only one squad? Last time we assaulted them with a hundred men, as well as your apprentices. Not that I don't think we're not enough. One of us would be."

"The Chosen needed experience with their enhancements, that which cannot be built in a sparring room, and live combat teaches like little else. My apprentices with leading men, new officers with the same. All that, however, is done. For the time being, at least, but Quinn admitted his wish to have them stress tested no longer made sense. I am also, pardon the arrogance, done here."

"Done?" Her tone grew surprised, eyes alight with mirth. "You mean to say you are not solely here to do the bidding of the Master that wishes you dead? How slippery of you, Lord Caro."

"It was never my wish to deceive you." He lied. "But you know my nature. A regular politician, I am, lying as if it were my breath. I can also level buildings, admittedly, which removes some of the risk of being caught in one. Also, I have backup. Lieutenant!"

The woman whirled, giving him her full attention. "Sir!"

"What would you say if I told you to shoot our guest here?"

"I'd remind the Lord she can hear us." The soldier replied, no hint of humour in her tone. "And then I would obey."

Morgan felt his good mood drain, waving her off. Lana turned to him, eyebrow raised. "And what, exactly, did that accomplish?"

"Reminded me who I was talking to, clearly. And that I'm tired of pretending. Jenna, how long until we arrive?"

"You remember me?" The pilot turned her head, jolting. Then it snapped straight ahead. "Two minutes, sir."

"Very good."

They passed in silence, Lana clearly intrigued but remaining patient, and Morgan looked down at the craters as detachment grew. The area was littered with them, most having turned into lakes or covered in growth, but this one was special. Underground, a dozen feet deep, there had once been a military installation. That was an educated guess, he would admit, but close enough. The schematic they'd dug up hadn't been labelled.

He stepped back as the specialist moved forward, the hatch separating them from the outside opening, and tracked the backpack as it fell. Then sunk, deep and quick, before exploding. A clever application of concentrated power, near all of it going straight down, and he stepped off the edge before the water could calm.

It was a short trip down, not even three seconds, and armour kept water from obscuring visibility. Made him heavy, too, which just let him reach the bottom faster. The deep crack hadn't made it clean through, though he could see water seeping down, so he took a breath. Energy filled his frame as he anchored himself with telekinesis, thousands of threads securing him to the stone like rope, and kicked.

His armoured boot warped as it shattered the rock, the threads flickering down first to help him descend, and water rushed with him like the wrath of god. It washed the four unfortunate soldiers occupying the hallway clean, shaken from the explosion but otherwise unharmed, and Morgan pulled on the strings. He shot forward, going through the wall separating the corridor from the base proper, and straightened as water rushed past his legs.

"H. Halt! In the name of the Republic, you are to surrender!"

The man seemed to question his own words as Morgan didn't answer, taking a look around. Nineteen enemies, eight of which droids, and one heavy handheld Siantide repeater. His knives slipped free as water continued to stream into the room, swaying gently as they formed a ring around his head. "Flee."

Fear heightened as he pressed on the Force, dragging back old terror and feeding it into their minds. Seven ran, dropping their weapons as they did, while the droids and remaining soldiers advanced. They had to fight against the rushing water, which slowed them, and one even lost its footing. The woman mounting the repeater opened fire, braver than most, and his knives found metal as he leaned to the side.

The shot that would have taken his heart enveloped an arm instead, shearing away everything past the elbow, and Morgan rotated the arm. Bone was still there, held in place by willpower alone, and muscle regrew as he manipulated his skeletal-fingers. They waved at the woman, whose fear spiked, and Morgan kicked the single remaining droid as it ran past his blades.

The thing broke against the wall, rough stone instead of a divider, and his weapons returned as the woman ran. A rather hastily assembled resistance, in his opinion. If one at all. Maybe he caught them on the way back from lunch.

Lana stepped next to him and looked at the arm, tone forcefully neutral. "Neat trick."

"I've been known to progress." He answered, apathetic. "Shall we? Shock and awe would work best here, I think. It seems our friend Faraire doesn't enjoy leading only the best of the best."

He didn't wait for her reply, expecting her to follow, and he knew the lieutenant would do her job aboveground. Which mainly consisted of securing the transport, keeping a bird eye view in case the general tried to run.

More soldiers tried to block his path, two hallways and a ruined kitchen later, and he stalled. No Siantide weapons that he could see, this time, and the fact he finished his bone treatment had him feeling secure. Regrowing an arm took time, much more so than regrowing muscle and flesh. Almost strangely so, but the Force wasn't science. Not even fleshcrafting, though it came closer than most.

His arm wasn't gone, after all, just wounded. Much less severe. "Three."

Summoning the fear saw it spread like smoke, making many hands shake with nerves, and he counted to two as the first broke. Followed by the second soon after, the crude barricade emptying before he could get to one.

"Interesting tactic." Lana murmured, face tight. He let go of the Force, allowing emotions to calm, and he looked at her blandly. "I was not aware you were so well versed in terror-techniques."

"Deep meditation can sometimes return buried memories."

"I don't know what that means."

Nor was she meant to. He'd died once, shoving the experience so far down his psyche he'd tricked himself into forgetting. The desperate scramble to remain alive, brain flooding with chemicals and body with adrenaline. The utter dread as he knew he was going to die, the impulse to do anything, everything, to remain alive. Then being reborn, or some version of it, and locking that away too. "Come, the base will overflow sooner or later. Better we are not here when it does."

Lana nodded the tiniest bit too quickly, he ignored it, and walking past the barricade showed it as hastily erected as he'd suspected. Traps would still be possible, of course, but he was on the clock now. Baras would tolerate no delays, he'd made that clear enough three days ago, and the way the man had been acting leaned a little too much towards the disinterested.

His time had run out, which meant everyone else's time had too.

No more obstacles came his way as he poured on speed, Lana keeping pace rather effortlessly, and finding the escape hatch wasn't so hard. The throng of people filling it, trying to push those ahead forward, made it easy to spot. Morgan had expected it, even before Quinn had taken the liberty of warning him the generals would not make the same mistake twice.

A wrong bet by Minst and Durant, hoping the greater secrecy would make up for the lack of escape, would not be repeated by Faraire. And, to his own fleeting amusement, it didn't matter.

The moment he ripped the door keeping the tunnel hidden people started a mad scramble for escape, some very few putting up a fight, and he disregarded them all. Blaster bolts were dodged as people were pushed to the side, the tunnel three-man-wide space making that easier than it could have been. It took no time at all to reappear above ground.

Where a small army was waiting, the people he'd overtaken running back into the flooding base. Faraire was there, old and stern and steady, while Lana held back. Curiosity? Morgan found he didn't much care, even if it did leave him alone.

"Lord Caro, in the flesh." The general smiled at his own joke, indicating the soldiers around him. "We have you outnumbered. I'm sure we could come to an understanding, as you have done before. None need die here today."

Morgan reached back into that dimension he could not see yet feel better than any, pulling the Force around himself. The first time he ever purposefully called on the things dwelling there. Many beings used the Force, he found, and some left behind imprints long after they were dead. Old things. Terrible things.

Mind bending terror swept forth as the Other draped itself over his shields, surprisingly gentle. Morgan swept his power forth, flavoured by eldritch amusement, and his tone never rose above a whisper. "Kneel."

The word echoed over the soldiers, the thing twisting around his soul bubbling in approval. Men and women fell to the ground, even Faraire himself blanching stark white as he collapsed. A moment passed and he was surrounded by nothing but fear and compliance, all thoughts of resistance washed from their minds.

"Any who does not stay kneeling will die." He said, contacting the lieutenant when none seemed ready to disagree. "Come, I have a general for you to collect."

Lana stepped up next to him as he looked around, her presence blooming in the Force. Checking them over herself, he determined. Whatever she found she didn't complain, voice low. Low enough none would hear them speak. "Might I ask about the nature of whatever you just summoned? On account of never having seen anything remotely like it, you see."

"It is harmless." He took a moment, finding himself unwilling to share. Still, some could not hurt. "Terror, in a word, and used to augment my own abilities. They seem to like me."

"They?"

"Oh yes. Many come, most do not stay. Like curious cats. Not quite sapient, though very sentient, and with ever shifting whims. I often do not notice them myself if I am not looking."

"And they are harmless, you say?" Her eyes flickered to the crowd around them, gripped by terror not yet shaken. "Really?"

Morgan shrugged. "They are to me. And you, mostly, though some say you lack the smell of subservience. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Lack the smell of subservience." She repeated slowly, as if tasting the words. He shrugged. "Do they often judge people for not being obedient to you?"

"Different perspectives. They like me, for reasons I could not begin to guess at, and so root for my success. Complex relations are alien to them, I appreciate the irony, and so they believe if someone is not below you they are the enemy. I'm working on explanations."

Lana didn't seem to know what to say to that, opening her mouth twice before speaking. "Should I be concerned?"

"No. As of right now I have not found one that can act in the material plane, for a lack of better description, without a medium."

"Right. Good."

Silence followed as they waited, Morgan waving the general to silence when he regained his mental fortitude, and his transport landed soon enough. If the lieutenant found something odd about half a hundred Republic soldiers collapsed like children, she didn't voice it. Her squad collected their target, with only token resistance from his guard, and he watched the crowd shrink as they ascended.

He nodded to the pilot as he was joined by Lana, clearly wanting to ask something and keeping silent anyway. "Speak. I have not lashed out over mere words before, nor will I start now."

"You got the generals. The mission is complete. A bit faster than anticipated, but completed all the same. What now?"

"Now I stretch as much time as I can before Baras has me disposed of. We'll stay on Taris for a few days, preparing to depart, and your presence won't be a burden. If you want to st-" He paused, feeling the Force constrict in a way it never had before. Almost in warning, though he wouldn't have recognized it before paying more attention to the Others. Suspicion turned to resignation, that turning to resolve. "Scrap that. Jenna, contact the colonel. Priority line one."

"Sir." She flipped a switch, waiting a few brief heartbeats before nodding. "Ready, sir."

"Quinn, Baras found out. Execute plan Bundu, get our people back to the ship. We're leaving for Hoth in two hours."

The colonel nodded, barking a few orders to someone he could not see. "Copy. Vette isn't on base, having left soon after you did. We'll be off planet in ninety, ready to depart in one twenty. Most of the base will have to be left behind."

"I'll tell her, do as you see best."

The line cut as Lana raised an eyebrow. "Plan Bundu?"

"Not important. I'll have your stuff set aside on the Aurora, a long range transport ready to shuttle you wherever." He waved, casting a last look at the planet. "Best you not be here for this part."

"Are you kicking me out or suggesting I leave for my own safety?"

"The latter."

"Then I'll stay, for now"

Morgan shrugged, pulling up a datapad and scanning the notes he'd made. The specimen was the most promising he'd found, Hoth was sparsely populated and he had no time to look for another regardless. "As you please. I'd appreciate it if you could assist Quinn and secure the Aurora, I have no doubt Baras would gleefully set both on fire, and I'm sure we can find something for you to entertain yourself with. Here's to unexpected betrayals, I suppose. Whoever could have seen it coming?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Vette sighed as the door closed, rolling off the couch and springing to her feet. "Right then, Vette old girl, enough being a depressed potato. Time to get some work done and rain terror on those possessing many shiny objects, not saddened in the slightest your boyfriend didn't spend all day lying on top of you."

Her departure from the base was as stealthy as she could make it, though she relented and properly signed out at the gate, before turning to a jog. Then a run, legs moving so smoothly it barely felt like exercising at all. Being in good shape was one thing, this was another. Force assisted shenanigans, her favourite.

Her very own base, consisting of a small hired complex under the lease of a resource investment-and-management group, appeared soon after. They really weren't that far away from Imperial controlled settlements, something which she appreciated, and her Valkyries saluted as she entered.

Ah, her own people to torment. Truly, dating a sith Lord never stopped coming with perks. Well, she mostly built this on her own, but crediting Morgan with things he hadn't done was funny. Especially because he was always so insistent she'd take credit for her own work, the adorable teddy that he was.

Nevermind he could probably exterminate the planet if he wanted to.

"Ma'am." Jess saluted, nodding to the main building. "Amelia is waiting, ma'am."

"Very good, captain. Did I make you a captain? You're the captain of the Valkyries, so it is decreed."

"Yes ma'am. Have been for months, ma'am."

"Oh. Good. Carry on. Remind me, how many of your people are here?"

"Thirty four, ma'am. Another sixty potential recruits are being trained on Nar Shaddaa and Alderaan, they should be here in a week or so for final assessment."

"Almost a hundred men and women protecting little old me? I'm flattered."

Jess sighed. "Only woman, ma'am. You ordered us to remain solely female."

Right. That had mostly been a joke, though it seemed she was stuck with it. Ambushing Morgan with them had lost its appeal, for now, but whatever. "Right, sure. Good job, captain."

"Ma'am."

She skipped inside and nodded to Amelia with a smile, watching curiously as Dorka reported something over holo. He had time on Ryloth, now, so he should have accomplished something. She'd never known the mandalorian to be reserved.

"Lady." Amelia greeted, making Dorka turn. "Just in time. Me and my well armed counterpart were catching up on our duties."

"I started twenty five minutes ago."

Vette waved his complaint away. "Perks of being the boss. Give me the short version."

"It's going." He said, running a hand through his hair. "Turning enthusiastic, dangerously motivated twi'lek into an army isn't as easy as one might think. I'm lacking experienced officers, proper training facilities and time, the last of which is not something I can do anything about."

Amelia smiled. "And yet."

"And yet I'm making progress." Dorka admitted. "I'm not being kind about it, sink or swim would be an accurate description, but it seems your people are thoroughly done being oppressed. Every victory, no matter how minor, emboldens more and more to act. Four separate movements have sprung up and have been assimilated, supplying tens of thousands of new recruits, and I've resorted to making large, mostly autonomous companies for anyone showing the slightest hint of competence."

She joined Amelia proper, stealing her drink. "This is good, yes?"

"It's going." He repeated. "The hutts are bringing in hundreds of minor mercenary bands, as well as more of their own numbers, and it's only a matter of time before it turns into a proper war. One, I will stress, your people will die in by the millions."

"Freedom isn't granted. It isn't bargained or pleaded for. Freedom is taken, with blood and death until all that keeps you in chains lies broken on the floor. Lord Caro said that to me, seeing my worth even when I did not. Do not underestimate what the thrall will do for liberty."

"So I've noticed." Dorka pointed to the side, presumably to emphasise his point. "You'll have a great many angry, trained and experienced rebels to contend with once we've won."

Vette shrugged. "Take those with fire in their blood and recruit them to the cause. I'll find a use for them. That everything?"

"No. No it is not. You asked me to, in essence, conquer a planet. I'm drowning in shadow-skirmishes, assassination plots and supply issues. Endless killing, training and manoeuvring. Ground won and lost, martyrs forged and forgotten. We're balancing on a knife's edge day after day, growing only when we inspire more than we lose."

"Having fun, then?"

Dorka's face split into a savage smile. "This is what I was born to do. You shall have this planet, boss. I'll deliver it to you over the broken corpses of a hundred thousand slavers."

"I want it free, not taken over."

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "I thought the plan was to take over most, if not all, trade? You know, jumpstart the economy while owning most of it?"

"Someone's going to make lots of money, might as well be a person vested in ensuring their freedom. Anyway, how's the mandalorian recruitment going?"

"Some have what it takes." The man flicked his hand. "Others do not. My clan is growing. There is another matter of some importance."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Two jedi came to Ryloth some days back, their purpose unknown, until four hours ago. It seems they are here looking for you."

Vette tilted her head. "Me? I'm not there."

"I'm aware of that. It seems you are wanted for questioning by the Green Jedi of Corellia concerning the death of one of their members."

"That's what they get off their ass for?" She complained. "Not fighting sith, helping the enslaved or spreading goodness, Goddess forbid, but revenge. Just peachy. Hypocrites."

Dorka shrugged. "They are assisting with the liberation of your people. Sooner or later they'll figure out you are not here and leave, but until then I'm throwing them against the enemy."

"Fine, sure. I hope, for their sake, they don't try to arrest me when Morgan's nearby. I'm thinking he won't be very understanding."

She spent time discussing more details, ensuring supply routes and reinforcement convoys weren't discovered and ambushed, and before long her right hand got back to work. Leaving her with little to do but annoy her left hand, Amelia taking it with so much grace the fun was lost, and she almost wished she could be there. Be on Ryloth and help her people, stop any more little girls from going through what she had to.

But a single additional gun wouldn't do much, not even hers, and the resources she was funnelling to the uprising was worth more than she could achieve in a lifetime. Contracts from Nar Shaddaa and Alderaan, guns and foodstuffs from a hundred small stations. Oh yes, she could do so much more coordinating than wielding a blaster.

If only Morgan could come with her, having it both ways would be great, but he had bigger problems to deal with. If she had to be somewhat useless she'd rather be so with him than without. And speaking of, he was calling her.

"I was just thinking about you." She greeted, smiling sweetly. "Think we could arrange some vacation time to Ryloth? You know, you tearing through armies, me stealing anything that is and isn't nailed down. It'd be just like old times."

"It will have to wait. Baras found out, god knows how, and I've ordered everyone off the planet. We'll be leaving for Hoth within the next two hours."

Her smile drained. "Shit. Is it ready? Are you?"

"I will have to be. It won't be two sith Lords, not this time. Worse case it's him, I'm assuming they can track us somehow, and if not it'll still be bad. Lana's agreed to guard the ships, but if you'd rather stay here?"

"No." She said firmly. "I'm coming, but it will take me more than a few hours to get everyone out. I'll talk to Clara, see if we can't find a rendezvous point halfway. Be careful. Bundu and Volryder aren't here this time."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, settling into grim determination. "If this goes right, and it will, I won't need them. And Baras might come after you too."

"He is welcome to try." She grinned. "Within Imperial space he might be mighty, his ties to the underworld aren't that strong. John's been helping me regardless, and I know how to disappear better than most. Focus on you, alright? I'll be fine."

He nodded, running through the quick version of his own mission, and she watched the holo turn off as he disconnected. Amelia offered her a solemn nod and silence, which she appreciated, and a minute of ordering her thoughts made her stand.

"Right then. That pirate treasure thing, did the rakghoul presence lessen?"

"It did." Amelia confirmed. "But only because the original owners returned. That or they have very good intel, since they went straight from orbit to the site. A little over two hundred men, though first hand knowledge is hard to come by."

"Marvellous. I'm not leaving here empty handed, that would go against my every instinct, and it's the best damn thing this planet has to offer. Take six Valkyries and pack up everything worthwhile, the rest is with me. We're going hunting."

Hunting, she found, was more fun with friends. Or a sect of warrior-woman sworn to her service, but either way. It both surprised her and not, really, how well the Valkyries obeyed her. Not, because, well, she knew what she was doing, but surprising her all the same for how well it worked.

Still, ghosting along the ruins with her people felt right. Some were eager, hounding for blood, while others stepped with that cold detachment she could relate to so very well. She had almost become it herself, masked by sarcasm and violence, if it hadn't been for a certain sith hopeful.

But he'd given her something to smile for, and she'd passed it on. Most of her Valkyries where damaged enough caring was reserved only for the most precious of people, their sisters or lovers or more, and when in work mode they'd kill the greatest monsters with the same ease as children.

Good thing she was in charge, then. Killing kids was somewhat outside her comfort zone.

The site spread before her as they hid behind the crumbling stone, dozens upon dozens of mercenaries and pirates working equipment. More were scanning the perimeter, armed to the teeth, and Vette found her mouth stretching into a smile. Gear like that implied the job was worth the expense, meaning something very juicy was buried there.

Good. She had been meaning to buy Morgan a gift, even before he got her one, and something that he couldn't simply take himself was hard to come by. Money would help, though she was hoping for something more exotic. The nerve of the man, gifting her a one-of-a-kind blaster and earnestly wanting nothing in return. Now she had to scour the galaxy for something suitable, lest he believe she was taking him for granted.

"Clean and simple. I want bodies on the floor and blood soaking the dirt, no heroics." Her voice echoed as her helmet muted the sound, her guard primed and eager. How silly of her to leave their bloodlust unsated. "Hunt, my lovelies. Hunt."

Her Valkyries bounded forward, silent as the grave, and she joined them with a sharp grin. Shields deflected initial shots as they came at the enemy, throwing a grenade as her feet pounded the ground. She, unlike someone she liked to annoy, couldn't regrow limbs. As such, investing in good quality armour and shields was a must. The same went for her guard, bolt after bolt being absorbed until they were among their lines. And even if her shield failed, which it would not, she had her Phrik vest. An electro staff made from the same, too, but that wouldn't matter until she met someone wielding a lightsaber.

A twist and she passed their perimeter, grinning. Sloppy, really, to have no physical barrier stopping people from entering. Nor being able to trust their own fellows, too busy watching eachother for any potential theft. Her vibro-knife slashed as a man fell, throat cut, and she shot another two as she turned. A sad thing her gift still needed to be tested, but someone would remind her. Amelia was attentive enough to think of stuff like that.

A savage howl picked up as one of her newer girls snapped limbs, picked up by most others. Vette shrugged and joined, the noise augmented by her speakers, and the man she faced flinched back. The horrors of incompetence.

She punished his hesitation by shooting him, as was proper, and shifted her weight to avoid getting stabbed. Her own blade flashed, much more accurately, and she kicked out as three tried to surround her. The man went down groaning, knee a ruin, and she could see why Morgan enjoyed doing that.

The other two hesitated, lots of that going around, and she jumped the one closest. He rolled, a smooth motion, and found himself with a pierced skull anyway. Honestly, trying to create distance. She acknowledged that, perhaps, sparring with sith might have raised her standards. Only slightly, of course, but raised them all the same.

She killed six more before finding herself without an enemy to fight, looking around. Some of her Valkyries chase cowards into the swamp, running as if the Goddess herself was chasing them, and Vette wiped her blade clean. "Everyone good?"

"Alive." Jess called. "Squad leaders, full check in."

Vette amused herself with inspecting the site as her people reported, ignoring the sea of dead bodies. She couldn't spot any of hers, the wonders of a surprise attack, but after half a minute she found three of her own dead. Two veterans and a learner. She grunted. "Pack them up, they deserve a proper funeral. Everyone else, looting time. Jess, get that equipment moving. I want to know what was worth three of my people's lives."

A cloth removed the worst of the filth, fighting was messy work even if blasters cauterised wounds, and she took a second look. A proper one, not scanning for enemies or advantages but to take in the sights.

The ruin, at first glance, was nothing special. Men and mining equipment had been moved in, she could already hear Jess order a squad to clear the cargo-transport stationed nearby, but other than that it was unremarkable. Add to that a rakghoul infestation, which had existed until quite recently, and she couldn't blame anyone for not finding the treasure.

Landing on remote worlds, moons or asteroids and burying illicitly gained loot was a surprisingly common tactic. Finding fences for common materials wasn't too hard, nor was it a problem if you stole only credits, but rare goods raised eyebrows. The law would ask questions, others would want to steal it, and even if you did manage to sell? Slicers syphoned entire fortunes all the time, keeping their eye on sudden increases in wealth.

No, digging a big hole and hiding your stuff was a surprisingly safe option. Why'd they chosen Taris she would never know, nor did she care, but it must have been here a while. You only dug that deep if you planned to leave it be, for retirement or bargaining, but fortunately for her most of the work had already been completed.

As such, when her people got the machines working again, she didn't have to wait long. Nor did she have to keep a close eye on those inspecting the loot, unlike the people here before. Her Valkyries were very well paid, not to mention bound by something more than greed, and experienced with her wrath. Proper training helped, which, as she rolled over a corpse, some of these hadn't gotten.

She looked over the pile of stuff as the last of it was retrieved, ignoring the machines used to get it. It would sell, sure, but she didn't have time or patience to get it off-world. Jess joined her, eyebrow raised. "Are you pleased, Lady?"

"Not until I'm sure their ship won't return and blast us into dust." Vette snapped her fingers twice, looking up. "But I was assured their ship left after depositing them, they probably hired one, so I shall be cautiously optimistic. What's the score, captain of mine?"

Jess cleared her throat, looking at her datapad. "This is a rough estimation, and some of the materials haven't been classified yet, but, ordered by least valuable first; Seven crates of wine and wine adjacent, looking nearly a century old. Worth maybe fifty grand, more if we sell it to a collector. A crate filled with miscellaneous jewellery, decorations and paintings, worth at least a hundred grand. Probably more, but the materials will need to be tested for purity. Four dust-sealed stacks of gree technology, worth at the very least ten million."

"Military?"

"Farming, from what we can tell, but with the gree it's anyone's guess." Jess shrugged. "A painting worth fifteen million, though we'll only get a fourth of that if we sell back to the original owner, and the grand prize. Nine suits of mandalorian Beskar, pure and labelled. Probably worth around the hundred million mark, if not more, though I'd recommend finding a smith to melt it down. Mandalorians aren't known to be understanding when people own this stuff."

Vette grinned, knowing just what she was using that for. Her sith was going to be very well armoured, oh yes. No more losing limbs for him. Still, that would probably take one, if that. She did love when luck was on her side. "I'm taking two sets for personal use, wearing it myself will probably make Dorka defect, but gifting him one should be a nice bonus when he frees Ryloth. The other goes to Morgan, the man can take it up with him if he doesn't like it, and it seems a few of our projects are going to be starting sooner than expected."

Unfortunately, getting it made before Morgan confronted whatever nastiness Baras was going to send wasn't doable. Smiths and armourers able to work Beskar and Phrik weren't exactly common, not unless you happened to live with an old mandalorian clan, and contacting the one she used last time would take weeks.

And not even count as a gift, damn her. He would like it, be thankful for it, but by her own rules it had to be something he would love.

"Of course, ma'am." Jess said, dragging her attention back. She'd think on it later. "There are also nine or so containers with miscellaneous content. Food, medicine and some entertainment, at first look. Likely meant for long term remote survival."

"Good thing my limitless network of informants informed us of it, then. I do love being told all the juicy gossip."

"Limitless it is not. I'm sure Lady Amelia has a list somewhere."

Vette made a face. "Probably. Let's get this stuff back to base and help your sisters pack up, since I'm pretty sure this was the only interesting thing around. "

Shadowing Morgan would be a chore, she could already tell, and she couldn't even do anything this time. Whatever wrath Baras would bring would be well beyond her. No, better to ensure success after he won, focussing on what she was good at.

He would grow in personal power, as he tended to do, and she would grow herself. Soon enough Ryloth would be free, bringing recruitment opportunities like never before, and she could get started on some of her grander plans.

It was going to be glorious.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Baras smiled as another report was finished, putting it aside with the others. That little device his traitorous apprentice had retrieved was proving most useful, if needing to be kept away from other Darths, and already his intelligence was growing.

Locations of hidden artefacts, which would disappear into obscurity as their owners died without breaking, and useful techniques were all retrieved. Even better, it could be used without the Force. Or even without a fully conscious prisoner. All he had to do was arrange the subject to arrive, have its mind broken, and read the report.

No need to get anywhere close, which was a good thing. Vengean was watching his every move, Draahg was slow in finding the man's secrets, and he almost wished to dispose of Master and apprentice both.

But not yet. Soon, if all went to plan, but not yet.

He got back to it with a mental push, working through reports of an empire of spies. Irrelevant details strung together to pave the way for conquest, one sickness causing a company he controlled untold wealth. An order for assassination, replacing a primitive chief with their own man, would lead to the recruitment of dozens of Force sensitive children.

Children he could train as assassins and guards, loyal only to him, and he hummed as his brain organised it all. A vast network of strings and connections, lore and plans, all primed to catapult him to the highest reaches of power.

Which was why, as he received a priority alert from one of his agents, he just sat there. A dozen seconds, maybe, as everything he had planned ground to a halt. So sure he had been, believing his apprentice to be cowed. That the boy would do what he needed to buy time, maybe run in another few weeks. Use those contacts of his slave to disappear.

Instead one of his few remaining people managed to catch Chosen transporting the generals. Transporting them frozen in carbonite, which means the fool was storing them. And not, importantly, killing them. Like his own Master had ordered, one who he needed another month to prepare for.

Rage built until it boiled over, the room ripping itself to shreds as he released it in waves. The table splintered against the wall, trophies and droids and more breaking beyond repair. Sheer fury rippled the Force, spreading wide and far, and he recognized he would only bring attention to himself if he went into a proper rampage. By the time he had calmed four dead attendants were on the floor, Baras only briefly remembered killing them, and he took a shaking breath.

Calling his other apprentice, his soon to be only apprentice, and more time brought more calm. Draahg entered with the hesitation of the cowardly, and his mind recognized that, for all his treasonous actions, Morgan at least didn't make for a spineless one.

"The Fleshcrafter Lord," He spat the title, Draahg flinching in the Force. "has betrayed us. Take four, find and kill him. I suspect my agents will soon be dead, but they will deliver his destination. If he is moving so brazenly, he has a plan."

"Four? He escaped two by sheer luck alone."

Baras resisted snapping the idiot's neck with only the greatest restraint. "Do not question me. Go, and do not return without his head. Kill him, then kill his slave. His colonel Quinn, his apprentices and any other he has surrounded himself with. Lana Beniko and Jaesa Willsaam, captain Kala and Clara. Everyone."

"Master."

Draahg slinked away, more aides scurrying inside to replace his furniture. He paid them no mind, going through the plan. If Vangean found out Plan Zero failed he would move first, something that could not be allowed to happen. He would have to act, contingencies be damned.

Losing a few Lords would be bad, those didn't grow on trees and he already lost two, but it would be worth it. They were loosely affiliated anyway, though he'd have to give them a rest after this. Other Darths would want to use them, getting into a fight with them now would be disastrous, but it would be fine. He'd needed two jedi to save him last time, though unlike Draagh he knew it not to be because of weakness. Five would be the end of him.

But it would take time, if only to travel, and he couldn't wait any longer. Members of the Dark Council had resources he did not, and the chance of Vengean finding out about his own plans would be disastrous. The man would have to die.

The Voice of the Emperor would rise, he would rise, and nothing was going to stand in his way.