Value Loyalty Above All Else [Star Wars]

Steel boots clacked against steel as captain Kala Tre stood on the bridge. Her executive officer was beside her, a man she had known for six hours, and she hated how he flinched every time the sound came closer.

But Bealc had been forced on her, unfortunately, so she couldn't get rid of him. She eyed Clara, the woman who she actually wanted as her xo, and suppressed a sigh.

At least she knew most of her command staff, unlike her crew. She'd had two hours to scrape together who she could, and four more would arrive in a few hours, but the command deck looked empty regardless. If she'd been closer when the vacancy reached her, or if her duties hadn't postponed submitting her application, she might have had more time.

As it was she'd spend three days in a shitty transport to get here, only to find they'd be leaving in seven hours and her supposed xo had done only the bare minimum to prepare.

She stretched, looking around. It was, admittedly, one hell of a career move to go from commanding a hunter of twenty to a destroyer of three hundred. Not to mention working for a sith, but she knew that could go either way.

The doors opened, but it wasn't the sith she saw. A twi'lek came first, followed by a rather normal looking man quietly talking with her. Bealc stiffened, everyone else on deck trying their hardest to look busy.

She snapped off a salute her old drill instructor would've been proud of as the sith stopped before her, holding out his hand for her to shake as he nodded to her xo.

Kala shook it, looking him over and trying to reconcile the stories she'd heard over the last few days and the man before her. His eyes didn't pierce her very soul nor did he drip with dread incarnate. The only way she knew this was as sith at all was the lightsaber hanging off his belt.

"Captain Kala. Pleased to meet you, sir."

The man smiled, the twi'lek looking past her xo. "Morgan. The pleasure is mine, captain. This is Vette, who has no manners and thus got distracted by shiny chairs."

Vette squawked, rounding on him. "It's a very nice chair and you know it. Would look great in our room."

"We're not taking the captain's chair."

Kala hid behind her officer face as the man turned away from the twi'lek, provoking an insulted hiss. "Excuse her, she wasn't raised. Are you clear on your duties?"

She nodded, deciding to ignore the byplay. "Sir. I am to captain the modified Terminus-class destroyer known as the Aurora and its complement of navy personnel, command her should we engage in naval combat and transport you and your men to wherever needed."

Morgan smiled again. "Very good, captain. Two last minute passengers have been added, Alyssa Gray and Inara Bakker. They are both sith, and will accompany us to Nar Shaddaa."

She nodded calmly, no hint of her alarm showing. The sith tilted his head. "Not to worry, captain. They are under my command, and I expect you to report to me should you have any issues with them."

Vette broke in, bouncing on her heel. "I don't think they'll be leaving their cabin until we dock or get attacked, but what do I know?"

"Nothing at all, but your sparkling personality keeps me entertained." He shot back lazily, turning back to her. "I have other business, but is there anything you wish to discuss with me before I leave?"

'I'd like this incompetent, daddy-ensured-my-promotion commander off my deck and to promote Clara in his stead. Otherwise nothing, sir. Just some light career suicide for me and my friend, who I had dig into his past two hours after meeting him.'

She shook her head. The sith looked at her, his tone calm, but she finally understood the stories. It was the eyes, the calm part of her brain decided. How they seemed to look past her flesh. "If there is anything, anything at all, I would like you to tell me, captain. Honesty is something I value in my people, especially those that will advise me on matters I have no experience with."

Kala flinched as the twi'lek seemed to appear beside her, casually leaning on her shoulder to whisper in her ear. "Pinky promise that, whatever it is, he won't take offence."

"I'd like to fire Bealc." She blurted. "Uhm, sir. I believe lieutenant Clara would be a significantly better fit as my second in command than commander Bealc, sir."

Vette sniggered, looking at the man in question. "Drama already. I do so love the navy. Well, not really, but I love that they do drama, apparently."

Bealc had gone white, looking at her with wide eyes. 'I'd apologise, but I think you're a disgrace to the uniform. Still, I didn't mean to just blurt it out like that.'

Morgan turned to the man, looking him over. "And why would your commanding officer doubt your competence, commander?"

Bealc cleared his throat, bowing as his high society manners kicked into gear. Kala rolled her eyes, heaving an internal sigh of relief when no one witnessed her breach of protocol. "I wish I knew, my lord. I passed all my academy classes, possess a high degree of skill in diplomacy and have four years of officer experience. I truly cannot see a reason for her dislike of me, my lord, as I have just met her."

Morgan nodded, smiling at the man. "Did you know, commander, that I possess the ability to tell when people are lying to me?"

Bealc's face formed into polite confusion, his hand twitching before he stilled it. She had to suppress a grin, a small ray of hope starting to bloom in her chest. "And that I have a strong dislike for people lying to me? It's a personal thing."

Kala startled slightly as she lost track of the twi'lek, finding her standing casually behind the commander. She narrowed her eyes as the woman silently tapped the knife on her belt, looking at the sith.

'She's going to slit his throat.' She realised, wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into. Bealc spoke, his voice remarkably even. Her's wouldn't be, in his situation.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, my lord. I've only just met the captain."

"That's true." Morgan admitted easily. "And so you lied that you had no idea why the captain dislikes you so. Does anyone wish to shed some light on the matter?"

The sith waved his hand, turning to the deck at large. "I know no one is actually working. Anyone?"

Kala desperately wished it wasn't Clara climbing onto the deck, but when the footsteps finally entered her field of vision she saw her friend standing prim and proper at attention. "Sir. Commander Bealc has questioned her command, remarked several times how a woman of her species is fit only for a slave-brothel and has attempted to replace her as captain by appealing to his father, sir. I also wish to inform you that it is widely believed the commander's father pulled strings so that the commander would not have to redo several of his classes, but nothing was ever proven. I believe that is where her dislike comes from, sir."

Morgan looked briefly surprised, Kala managing to resist snorting. A human sith wouldn't be confronted with racism all that often, she imagined. "With a yes or no answer, have you remarked that your commanding officer is only fit for a slave-brothel?"

Bealc looked like he couldn't decide between terror and anger, managing a strange looking middle ground. "Yes."

"With a yes or no answer, have you attempted to use personal connections to replace your commanding officer as captain?"

Bealc grit his teeth, forcing out the words. "Yes, but-"

"Get off my ship, commander. Captain, replace your second in command as you see fit. Believe me when I say I'm not here to micromanage you, nor do I have the expertise to do so if I wanted to. Excuse me, I really do have other business to attend to." Morgan nodded to her, turned and left. Bealc took a step forward, his lips forming words of protest.

Vette surged, the butt of her knife coming to his temple. Bealc collapsed in a heap, Jillins and two of his men stepping onto the bridge moments later. They saluted as Morgan passed, the sith nodding to them. She'd been reading up on the soldiers on her ship, although she didn't know the two accompanying the corporal by name. "You called, ma'am?"

Kala watched Morgan walk away, his stride unhurried. She turned as the corporal spoke, wondering when the twi'lek had done anything of the sort. "Dump this waste of space off the ship. Don't worry about bruising him, and if he ever attempts to intervene with our people again, new to the job or not, kill him."

The corporal saluted, his two men stepping forward and dragging the unconscious commander away. Kala looked at the twi'lek, once again looking like a cheerful young woman someone had given far too many weapons. "Now that that's dealt with, and in the effort to avoid listening to Quinn report on whatever he found so important as to bother Morgan with, let's get to know each other, you and me."

Kala shot a panicked look at Clara, the woman smiling wildly at the twi'lek as she intercepted her.

'No please not another one I'm begging you.'

Clara bounded forwards, her decorum forgotten as she introduced herself cheerfully. Kala watched, helpless, as the innocent looking pair gravitated to the captain's chair.

'Clara no wait stop that woman just ordered a navy commander shot and the soldiers just went with it what the fuck please.'

Her internal pleading was kept under a professional mask as she made her rounds to double check supplies and their destination, half her mind panicking while the other was drafting the letter that would promote her friend to the new xo.

She calmed as she worked, the pair chatting still chatting like old friends, and finally shook her head.

'Dismissing a commander like an errant dog and giving me leave to staff my command as I see fit, only to turn around and find he'd given the same liberty to a possibly insane twi'lek. What have I gotten myself into.'

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Morgan walked quietly through the ship, saluting crewmen stopping left and right until he passed. He ignored them, returning polite nods to those he made accidental eye contact with.

'She's been getting more protective.' He mused, passing through a bulkhead door two feet thick. 'That commander, whatever his name was, wouldn't have been able to scratch me even if he'd been stupid enough to attack.'

He opened the door to Quinn's office, finding the man bent over a table. He didn't look up, so Morgan waited politely.

He decided to use the time to perfect his stealth, not so much drawing on the Force as settling it around himself. He noted some progress, but Teacher still saw through it with ease. 'Progress is being made. Maybe I'll even be able to turn invisible some day.'

Morgan smiled to himself as he imagined sneaking up on Vette, then smiled wider as he imagined the sheer outrage that would follow.

Quinn looked up and nearly shot out of his chair, saluting unnecessarily. "Stop that. You're an army captain, not some fresh recruit. I get enough saluting from the crewmen."

"My lord. Apologies, I didn't hear you come in."

He waved his hand, taking a seat and bemoaning his lack of armour. He'd gotten used to wearing it, and now he had to wait until Nar Shaddaa to get a new set. "You had something you wished to update me on."

"Ah, yes." Quinn cleared his throat, regaining his footing. "Over the last four days I've been able to recruit those I believe to be a good fit, and adding that to the three recruits Vette picked up, we're sitting at twenty soldiers. Lieutenant Helen has settled in well, but we have encountered a problem."

Morgan sighed. "It's the money, isn't it? It's always money."

"Precisely. We have been reassigned to your entourage, and this does come with several benefits. Reassigning skilled, willing soldiers is significantly easier with a sith's backing, and I will not have to manoeuvre around the Imperial chain of command when we arrive at Nar Shaddaa." Quinn finally sat down, handing over a datapad. "As you can see, there is a downside. The Empire expects sith to fund their own entourages, likely in an effort to stop them from dividing the military into their own private armies."

He looked it over, flinched at the sum. "Baras did tell us this."

"He did." Quinn allowed. "I found it prudent to get an accurate account of our finances. As it stands, even with the generous donation made by Vette, we will be able to get to Nar Shaddaa and no further. Fuel alone will drain the coffers, not to mention salaries, combat pay and repairs to the ship."

"Vette's working on it."

The captain nodded, his face carefully polite. "You don't approve. Speak freely, Quinn."

"Using a military vessel to smuggle does not sit right with me, sir. It's dangerous to transport unknown goods, not to mention unethical."

"Unethical." Morgan repeated slowly. "Firstly, captain, Vette inspects all goods that we transport. I'm the last person that wants explosives or god forbid slaves in my hull. Secondly, said hull is as good as empty. Her connections are the only reason we won't be stuck on Balmorra, unable to pay for the fuel needed to leave."

He put a hand to his chin. "Unethical. I believe the only war crime I have yet to commit is rape and the slaughter of children, and that is if you don't count stupid eighteen year olds picking up a rifle as a child. Speaking of war crimes, the Empire is want to enslave, burn and conquer any planet it sees fit, nevermind the ethics. The Imperial military has conducted some of the single most gruesome, unnecessarily barbaric campaigns imaginable. I will allow the vast majority to have been committed under orders of the sith, yet they were committed all the same. Don't tell me avoiding tax is unethical when we just participated in a battle that killed thousands of people fighting for their freedom."

Morgan sighed, holding up his hand. Quinn's face had gone blank, his hands carefully relaxed. "Apologies. I do not blame you for the whole of the Empire's actions, nor do I believe you to be the man to commit them."

Quinn waited for a second, looking, before deflating. "I know. It's an objection I had to raise, seeing as smuggling is illegal under Imperial law. The true downside is that we can't submit its gains as income. Donations have to be taxed, but any income made by a sith is exempt."

"I don't know what to tell you. Start a business, sell stuff?"

The captain shrugged. "Passive income would be best, but I admit to not being a trained economist. I'm afraid I don't have an answer, my lord."

Morgan hummed, setting the matter aside. "I met captain Kala. She seems young, for someone of her rank."

Quinn shrugged again, handing over a different datapad. "Top three percent of her year, shunted off soon after graduation due to her race. She's seen actual combat, quite a lot of it, in fact, and has an exemplary record. The best of those available, not to mention someone who will rise far with your protection, my lord."

"Combat?"

"Pirates and the like. They send her on suppression missions, mostly as a lone vessle. She's flourished, in my opinion. Most of her crew went with her when she accepted this assignment."

"I see. I fired her xo, by the way. Shouldn't be your problem, but heads up."

"So corporal Jillins has informed me." Quinn nodded. "I've impressed upon them to not shoot a commander of the Imperial Navy, and I will assume Vette meant that figuratively."

"She likely did not. I'll talk to her." Morgan stood, having no intention of doing so. He found it rather adorable when she got protective, actually, although he could imagine others found it significantly less so. "Keep me up to date, captain. We'll be departing in a few hours."

The captain nodded, looking back down at his desk as Morgan left again.

'That took significantly less time than I thought it would.' He contemplated, walking aimlessly. Appearing busy when he wasn't was an old skill, one acquired long before lightsabers and twi'lek became a staple in his life, but these days he hadn't much need to employ it.

His feet brought him to his, their, room. He hadn't explored much of it yet, and taking one look at his small pile of stuff made him decide to change that.

Packing his things away didn't take long, he travelled light, and then he was back to being bored again.

Teacher would likely scold him and set him to training, but it was all he'd been doing since arriving at Balmorra. A soulless drama had him somehow more bored than doing nothing, but by then his stomach reminded him he'd skipped lunch. Again.

He snorted. "From overeating to not caring about hunger to the point of starvation. Upgrades people, upgrades. Still, might as well."

Inspecting the kitchen he found an actual kitchen, a four pit stove standing next to a tall fridge. Looking inside revealed rows of neatly arranged vegetables, meats and cheeses, most of which he didn't recognize.

Morgan didn't so much decide to make dinner, but eating some cheese led to inspecting the steak. That led to baking it, and who eats steak without potatoes anyway? Some strange looking plant tasted just like cauliflower, so he set some water to boiling.

He hummed as he chopped onions, blue but otherwise tasting fine, and used his telekinesis to hunt for something to drink. He found wine, but a small taste revealed his pallet to be as unrefined as ever. Shrugging and pouring himself a glass, his hands still busy chopping onions, he resumed humming. He heard the door open, soft footsteps padding inside.

Turning, he saw a bemused Vette standing in the living room, eyebrow raised. "Whatya doing?"

"Making dinner?" He offered with a shrug, setting down the knife to flip the stake. "I was bored and someone went through the trouble to stock the fridge. Would be rude not to, at that point."

She hummed in agreement, skipping over and kissing him on the cheek. "Anything I can do?"

"Set the table? You'll have to find the plates yourself, if we even have any."

Vette nodded resolutely, throwing open cabinets until she found what she was looking for. Morgan turned back to the potatoes to find them mostly done, cutting the steak in half.

So they could share, of course. Certainly not because he'd forgotten how long ago he put it on and needed to check how rare it was.

A few minutes later found Vette kicking her feet on the counter, watching him work. "I didn't know you could cook. I can't, for the record. Frozen dinners all the way."

"Not a skill the sith taught me, that's for sure." He floated over the cheese when she made grabby hands for it, shrugging. "Used to be a hobby. Feels like a lifetime ago, honestly."

She hummed, breaking the cheese and throwing him a piece. He bent over backward, keeping the pan level as he caught it with his teeth. He smiled smugly. "Force agility, suck it."

Vette scoffed, flicking a piece high and catching it. "What did Quinn want?"

"Oh, that. So, basically, we're broke."

"We knew that already." She accused grandly. Morgan chuckled. "So we did. Unfortunately, relying on your donations won't cut it. Worse than being suspicious, it's taxed. Any business or property I own isn't, but how do you even buy a business?"

She made a face, throwing the cheese back toward the fridge and missing. "Taxation. Truly, the evil of the Empire knows no limits. This is why I became an outlaw in the first place."

He caught the cheese with the Force and put it back in the fridge, throwing a spoon at her. "Don't throw food, it's unbecoming."

Vette dodged, sticking her tongue out. "How long is this going to take, anyway?"

"Another twenty? The steak needs to rest."

She hopped to the ground. "I'm going to take a shower, then." She lingered near the door, finally turning back. "You can't actually tell when people lie, right?"

Morgan waved, turning his focus on the cauliflower. "Not as such. I can feel what they feel when they lie to me, and that man's anxiety spiked whenever he did. Someone with excellent control over their emotions would be able to lie to me easily enough."

She nodded, throwing her clothes to the floor before disappearing into the bathroom. He picked up a piece of vegetable, judged it about done and went to check the table. It was set well enough, although he straightened the cutlery and added the wine bottle. Placing some candles completed the table, having found some when hunting for a cheese grater.

Vette returned to find the room darkened, shadows cast in the soft orange of fire. "Romantic."

He tilted his head, looking it over. "I guess? Honestly wouldn't know. It's a miracle there are candles in the first place, by the way."

She accepted a glass of wine, taking a seat as Morgan did the same. Her feet immediately began fighting for space, making him scowl and pin them in place. "Behave. The food's getting cold."

She glared back but started eating, taking a sip of wine and raising her eyebrow. "If I didn't know better you're trying to get me drunk. This is strong stuff."

He shrugged. "Automatic poison filtering, I need at least this much to even start feeling it. Besides, I don't think there's much you do drunk that you wouldn't do sober."

"Fair. Steaks' goods, by the way. Nice and juicy."

Morgan smiled, inclining his head. "Good ingredients are half the job."

They ate in companionable silence, finding himself with an armful of twi'lek afterwards, curled on the couch. He floated the dishes into the kitchen to be tomorrow's problem, playing with her lekku as she flicked through channels endlessly.

"This was good. Nice." She said after a while. "I. Fuck. I've never really done this stuff before. I've been wined and dined once or twice, but that was them trying to get into my pants. It's nice to just relax."

He kissed her head, smiling. "I had fun too. Better enjoy it while you can, I doubt we'll get much time when we get to Nar Shaddaa."

Vette grumbled, hugging his arm as she finally settled on a drama. He watched with her, uncaring for the show but basking in the moment of peace. "I love you, you know. Never thought that would happen."

She twisted her head up, kissing him and burrowing again. "I love you too, you surprisingly big softy. Now shush, it's just getting good."

He smiled, keeping quiet as he traced circles on her shoulder.

'I'll make time.' He promised silently.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Nar Shaddaa, Vette saw, hadn't changed much.

Granted, she was still in orbit and they hadn't even made it to landing yet.

Quinn was standing a half step behind Morgan, both looking stoic and professional as they talked with some customs agent.

There had been a problem, apparently, and the dock assigned to them had been taken by some hutt. Said hutt had promptly refused to vacate the spot, pulling on family connections to make life difficult for everyone and claiming she owned it in the first place.

The woman was some big important export magnet, she hadn't listened too closely.

But a hutt wanted something, and so they got it. Nothing had changed.

"Please bring her into this call, officer Grethic. I will talk with her."

The customs agent nodded tensely, and Vette imagined he had to be hitting every panic button he had. She could sympathise.

The woman was quick to join the call, at the very least, but looked not the slightest bit intimidated. "Ah, the little sith that believes the universe bows when he demands it. Nar Shaddaa belongs to the hutts, not the Empire. We loaned you our docks, we haven't sold them."

Morgan nodded, surprising the woman. "Correct, in a sense. This dock, however, is the only one available for my ship at this moment in time. If you would be so kind as to lend it to me for a number of weeks, I can complete my business and we'll be on our way."

A wheezing laugh came over the speaker, the woman smiling broadly. "A begging sith, how interesting. We can arrange something. Come, speak with me in my penthouse."

The image cut off, the whole deck silent as the grave.

"Well." Vette broke in cheerily. "That went about as well as could be expected. So, we're off to kill her?"

Captain Kala choked silently as Morgan sighed, turning to her. "Perhaps. Quinn, hold down the ship as I go talk to her. Best not to start a war with the cartels, no matter how annoying to deal with. Someone fetch me Alyssa and Inara."

The two linked up at his smaller fury-class ship, both looking like they'd just crawled out of bed. Inara returned her broad grin, miming something she couldn't quite decipher.

It earned her a harsh look from Alyssa, so she didn't imagine it was polite.

"We will be dealing with a hutt, and since I do not wish to plunge the Empire into a war with the cartels quite yet there will be no violence unless I order it, understood?"

Both women bowed, murmuring assurances before they finally got moving again. Landing an interceptor was significantly easier than a destroyer, the short trip lasting minutes before they were walking on Nar Shaddaa proper.

The penthouse was some ways away, but securing transport was easy enough. The ride was mostly quiet, the lovebirds horrible at smalltalk and Morgan staring broodily out the window.

"Stop sulking." She chided. "At the absolute worst we'll kill her and let the chips fall as they will. The ship will be fine in orbit, if not capable of serving as our base of operations."

He looked at her, eyes tired. "It's not that. Annoying, sure, but it's not that. This is an old place, and older things stalk its darker corners. I'd like to avoid them like the plague, but I don't think they'll let me."

"Cryptic." She murmured approvingly. "You'll be scaring young sith in damp tombs within the year, mark my words."

He smiled faintly, turning back to the window as towering skyscrapers raced past. 'It's also creepy as hell when you spout arcane knowledge like that, 'cause so far they've all turned out to be true.'

The penthouse was a grand thing, glittering windows and spouting fountains framing their landing site. The guards looked well armed and competent, but she saw rather less of them than she had imagined.

Their party made it inside without trouble, the hutt's seat dominating the grand, and only, room in the space. Said hutt waved her arm as they approached, the music falling still. "Ah, the sith. Welcome, welcome. I am Wisi the magnificent. Please, take a seat as I finish with some business. "

Vette wanted to hiss at the insult, but Morgan nodded politely before she could jump at the thing and strangle it. He put a hand on her shoulder, leaning close. "We aren't pressed for time, and I'd like her feeling confident instead of cornered. Go see what information you can gather while I stand over there with these two and terrify the guests."

She nodded, holding her anger tight as she looked over the room. As expected from a hutt it was filled with adoring fans, most too terrified to leave, bounty hunters, mercenaries and slavers. Her anger spiked as she caught the dancers, looking miserable but hiding it well. They looked fed, at the very least, but she knew something about the weight of their collars.

She ignored the slavers entirely and walked over to some bounty hunters playing pazaak, drinking like it was going out of style. They didn't much like her, but she had credits and a carefully cultivated air of ignorance about the game.

Over the next ten minutes she lost about as much as she won, but more importantly the hunters started to relax again. She bought a few rounds, earning her appreciative grunts, and they finally started doing the thing she was here for.

Complaining. "I swear, it's factory duty one week after another. Boss doesn't know what the hell to do with us, I'll tell you."

His neighbour laughed, taking a long drag from some pipe on his shoulder. "We're getting paid to sit here and look rough while we drink and play, won't hear me complaining. Sides, with the way things are going we'll get another bonus soon enough, then we can go looking for some real work."

Filing that away and slinking off, the group laughing at her spectacular loss, she joined another. Trio of mercenaries this time, intently watching two droids in a ring and cursing as one dropped. "You boys have room for little old me? I've credits."

One of them, who looked to be an actual mandalorian, snorted. "I don't drink on the job, so unlike those idiots I saw you come in with the sith. What do you want?"

She seated herself, throwing a handful of credits on the small pot in the middle. "Everything on black, round three elimination. Just wanted to see who managed to peak the interest of my boss, then was stupid enough to tell him to sit and wait like a dog."

The mandalorian huffed, writing down her bet while she nodded to the two others. They didn't seem in the mood for talking. "Did seem a little laidback for one. Fought a sith once, or saw one butcher half my company, anyway. Your boss gonna start something? Don't reckon too many will stand and fight when that trio starts breaking spines."

"I'm Vette, and not if she keeps the insults to a minimum. He's got purpose here that's more important than dealing with her."

"Dorka. Words to make any wise man shiver."

He fell silent as the droid's fight intensified, turning back when a pretty woman appeared to promote a new drug. "Wisi isn't stupid, won't hear me say that, but she might be having some trouble. Suppose that's what she gambled on your boss for. Employing a sith, or appearing to have one working for her, would solve many of them."

She hummed, keeping an eye on the game as the third round started. "That why there's few guards but too many mercs?"

"Can't say I have an opinion about that." Dorka shrugged noncommittally. "But anyone with eyes could see the mercs and hunters are bored."

The black droid knocked the red one out of the ring, making grand gestures of victory. Dorka snorted and shoved the pile of money her way, the two silent mercs scowling. "Nice meeting you, Dorka."

The mandolorian waved, and she joined Morgan where he was quietly talking with his two bodyguards. "And why did Soft Voice send you, exactly?"

Inara shuffled awkwardly, Alyssa frowning. "I believe his exact words were to guard you, my lord. I could not begin to guess at his true motive, should that not be it."

She broke in, the other woman taking a step back to give them space. "Found out why the hutt's being a cunt. To summarise four brilliant insights, one skillful interrogation and several spectacular bets, she's having trouble. Lost too many of her guards and is compensating with bounty hunters and mercs, but they're getting bored with securing her factories. Having you work for her would scare away whoever is muscling in, but I have a plan."

Morgan rolled his eyes, which was uncalled for, but listened. "So, basically, I steal it first. That way I can be the queen of the underworld and make lots of money." She eyed the dancers. "Maybe free some slaves while I'm at it."

"Brilliant." He said dryly. "It might possibly be too well thought out, actually. Best not to make it too complicated."

"You may approach, sith." Wisi called loudly, what conversation still going on in the room falling silent. "Wisi the magnificent will hear your plea."

"Play along please." She whispered. "I'd really like to steal a syndicate. Think of the money. So much money."

Morgan nodded, stepping forward while she stepped back. If violence were to erupt she'd be in a better position in the back, not that it would. Dorka was right when he'd said mercs don't fight sith. No matter the money, can't spend it when you're dead.

"Not a plea, but yes. We need to have a conversation." Morgan said. "The Empire is renting several large hangars in this port, one of which was assigned to my ship some days ago. It is currently occupied by one of your vessels, and I would like it empty."

Wisi laughed, and it just occurred to her she was speaking basic. She didn't know if she was broke or less arrogant than most hutts, although from this experience it looked like the former.

"That hangar belongs to me and I will do with it as I please, no matter the meddling of the Empire. I can, however, make an exception."

Vette frowned, shooting Inara a warning look when she stepped forwards. She ignored how she had wanted to do the same, and how Alyssa's hand was itching to her lightsaber. 'No wonder she's losing control of her people if she's this bad at reading a situation.'

Morgan nodded sympathetically, taking a small step forwards. "Business is all about exchanging services. What did you have in mind?"

"Very good." Wisi praised. "Using the brain is a rare thing for your kind. There is a warehouse in the corellian sector, once belonging to the great Wisi, that was unjustly taken from me. Retake it in my name, and the hangar is yours for as long as your business lasts."

Vette wanted to shoot her, no matter that she just stopped the lovebirds from doing the same, but Morgan agreed before she could. "Very well. I will need the hangar now, though."

Wisi laughed, waved her hand agreeably, and music started to play again. Morgan walked their way, not saying anything until they were in the car again and he'd informed captain Kala the ship could be landed. "That could have gone worse."

Inara hissed. "She insults you, takes what is yours, and it could have gone worse? She thinks you are weak, to be ordered around."

Vette agreed, but also didn't particularly want the reproachful look levelled at her either. "And what a surprise it will be, when she finds out I am not. Her opinion of me matters less than dust, her threats smoke in the wind. Immediate, overwhelming violence is the way of normal sith."

Morgan looked at Alyssa briefly, turning back to the fuming Inara. "Are we normal sith, Inara? To be swayed by our emotions, our anger?"

She shook her head minutely, Alyssa putting a hand on her shoulder. Morgan nodded calmly. "You two are here to guard me, learn from me. I will value advice, and I always will, but it will be given in private. Do not contradict me in public, nor attempt to steer my actions directly."

Vette didn't much like the strained air in the ride, not that her boss seemed to even notice it, and when they finally came back to the hangar she welcomed the relatively fresh air. Kala had landed the Aurora, not waiting for the hangar to be fully cleared, and Quinn's men were chasing out the last stragglers. "I will speak with Baras. The day is yours to fill as you see fit."

The two sith bowed, Inara somewhat stiffly, before departing. Vette spoke up when they were gone, looking him over. "Was that wise?"

He looked at her, sighing. "She'll get over it. Astara sent them here to temper, so they can study under me. They will obey me, even if, especially if, they don't like it. Fanaticism is a dangerous thing, forming a disconnect between who you are and who your followers think you are. If you let it spread, let it fester, that distance will grow. One day what they think you should do, and what you wish to do, differs entirely. "

She hummed, giving him a kiss and shove. "You're the expert, but for the record I don't like the way that hutt talked to you. Go, you have scary sith lords to talk to. I'll find something to entertain myself with, don't worry."

"Don't burn down the moon." He chuckled half-heartedly. "At least not until we're done here."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"Apprentice. I see you have made good use of your new ship."

Morgan bowed, Darth Baras's image looming over him. "It will serve me well, my Lord."

"See that it does. Onto the matter at hand. Nar Shaddaa is, I'm afraid, the armpit of the galaxy. It's a planet of frivolity and distraction, gambling, spice and gang disputes filling every corner of the place. Its black market can be useful, however, so do not discount it entirely."

He stayed silent, nodding along. "But you are here to eliminate my spy, Agent Dellocon. Normally it would be a trifling task, but Dellocon has acquired a powerful ally. When his position came under scrutiny from Nomen Karr's padawan he figured I would kill him, and sought protection from lord Rathari. An upstart, by all measures, but the Dark Council has granted him dominion over sith interests on Nar Shaddaa."

"Will his death be required, Lord?" Morgan asked. "It might bring scrutiny from the Council should I succeed."

Baras scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Leave the Council to me, apprentice. Agent Dellocon knows much about my organisation, and so Rathari cannot have possession of him. The spy must die. If you find a way to do this without killing Rathari, feel free to do so."

"Of course, my Lord." He didn't sound confident that would be the case, but Morgan didn't fancy fighting a sith Lord quite yet.

"Halidrell Setsyn runs my slave operations on Nar Shaddaa, and has been a valued operative for many years. She is ready to receive you and can fill you in on Rathari's movements and interests. That is all."

The image cut off, leaving him standing alone in a dark room. 'Slavers. Of course it's slavers. Well, if I might be fighting a sith Lord it's back to Teachers lessons for me.'

He walked to the training rooms, finding surprisingly well equipped facilities greeting him as he walked inside. 'Then again, Quinn might well have arranged for the equipment on Balmorra to be transferred here. I swear, that man doesn't sleep.'

Teacher floated off his belt, the holocron clicking open. "I see you have managed to extract yourself from the pleasures of the flesh."

"Don't be snide, I was busy. Not like I stopped training." He demonstrated by cloaking himself in the Force, his perception finding himself muted. Teacher scoffed.

"That won't fool a clever dog, nevermind a Darth. I see that you have, at the very least, managed to not alert your master. Small miracles. That is not what we will focus on today."

Teacher floated closer, looking at him carefully. Morgan shuddered when he felt only the barest hint of the scan. "Your shield is adequate, I suppose, and will grow in power on its own. You might just be ready to try and unravel hostile techniques before they reach you, allowing for a higher skill ceiling."

Morgan frowned, remembering the Overseer talking about that. Or most of her lecture, anyway. "My old Overseer said that trying both at the same time is near impossible."

The cube wobbled. "Not untrue, and it won't be a skill mastered easily. It will, however, prevent a repeat of your disastrous fight on Balmorra. Your relatively high degree of skill means you have stamina despite your lacking reserves, but against those that can tax them directly you are woefully underprepared."

"Alright, alright, I get it. No more slacking. It was only a few days. How does one counter Force techniques, exactly? The Overseer didn't mention."

Teacher floated closer, his voice dropping. "I do not push you to be cruel, apprentice. You are stacked against giants, those that have decades of experience to draw on. You either become one yourself or die, no matter your own desires. Now, what is a Force technique?"

Morgan tilted his head, shaking his head at the warning. "A structured interaction with the Force, guided by intention and will. It's no science, I can tell you that."

"Fair." Teacher floated back, pacing by slowly moving side to side. "Study, while having revealed some of its secrets, remains slow and clumsy. There is no guidebook, and each practitioner draws their own path. We teach them to push, how to structure thought and will. What path they take to accomplish a push is their own, for we do not know how to."

"How can we do something yet not know how to do it?"

Teacher scoffed. "Tell me how to sleep."

"You lay down, preferably in a dark room but not always, and-" Morgan opened his mouth, closing it again when he didn't find anything else to say. "I see your point."

"Good. To get back to the lesson, to unravel is to feel the structure of a hostile technique. To know it, as you know your own. When you do, know it so well you can see how it is built from nothing to completion, you can break it. You can find that one point where a small application of Force will destabilise it, rendering it harmless."

The cube laughed. "Doing so while it is actively trying to harm you is where the difficulty comes in. Nor can you devote all your attention to it, lest your opponent cuts your head off."

A small, harmless push hit his shoulder, coming with so little warning his arm jerked back before he could dodge. "Lucky for you it is not difficult to train, merely taking practice. Pay attention."

The next came slower, thankfully, so Morgan could lean out of the way. A slap caught him on the cheek, turning his head with its strength. "This is not avoidance training, apprentice."

He grunted, sitting down and crossing his legs. The slaps kept coming, but after the initial surprise they bothered him little. Instead he focused, finding it easy enough to home in on the techniques as they came. Unravelling was another matter, until he found a rather glaring hole in one of them.

Poking it dissolved the technique, but he couldn't say how he knew there was a weakness there. It just was, like studying the techniques of others, seeing what he could copy.

Another came, and he realised this was almost exactly how he copied techniques in the first place. Not so much lately, true. Darth Lachris had been the last, and finding those he could fight where he could both learn something, yet devote part of his attention to analysing their techniques where few.

The unravelling was new, but not something he had all that much trouble with. Opening Teacher's holocron had been far harder, especially near the end. "I wonder, sometimes."

He opened his eyes, seeing Teacher orbit his head. "Wonder what?"

"What you would have become, had Baras taught you properly. There is no substitute for a real mentor, not even the most brilliant of trapped minds."

Morgan shook his head. "I have no wish to see what he would have moulded me as. I take it I wasn't supposed to get it down so quickly?"

"No you were not." Teacher hummed. "But it was ignorant of me to discount your perception and the thieving it allows. Don't be offended, thief will be among the kindest things they call you."

He didn't feel particularly offended. "What now?"

The cube shrugged. "I cannot produce more Force attacks than what I already have. It allows me mobility, a fair amount of it, but nothing more. It was a mistake I implore you never to repeat. I am quite literally at your mercy, should you wish me harm."

"Good thing I don't, then. I'll call Alyssa and Inara."

Calling a crewmen to fetch them wasn't hard, and he filled the time with some light meditation.They arrived soon enough, Morgan feeling a surge of amusement at the sight of them. "I hope my summons did not interrupt anything important?"

Alyssa stood with dignity, her hair a mess and her clothes less than their usual neatness. Inara shook her head, smiling broadly. "None at all, my lord. It proved an interesting time constraint to our activities."

Her girlfriend shot her a dangerous look, taking half a step forward before she could say anything else. "What can we assist you with, my lord?"

"My apprentice is learning to unravel hostile techniques." Teacher cut in. "You will both attack him with relatively harmless but varied attacks, and when he has learned to defend against them you will spar."

"Alyssa, Inara, meet Teacher. Teacher, two of Enosis's new recruits."

Teacher floated closer. "Did I stutter? Begin!"

Morgan snorted, motioning for them to start as he took a seat on the floor. Two attacks came soon after, one a structured telekinesis punch while the other felt more like a wave. They came slower than Teacher's attack, yet took more power and concentration to unravel.

"Techniques with more power behind them will take more to unravel." The cube lectured, mirroring his own thoughts. "Their structure is more solid, although the skill of the practitioner can make it more difficult the more perfect their craft."

He pricked another one, stabbing a Force tendril through it as it dissolved into nothing. The next caught him, knocking the air out of his lungs. He laughed, turning away three more before the fourth caught him across the leg.

His reserves kept steady, each unravelling taking only a tenth of what shielding would have. Morgan smiled as bruises started forming, standing and slowly walking around the room.

Alyssa and Inara exchanged wary glances, their previous levity forgotten as Morgan turned their attacks into nothing. An hour later they sat on the floor, sweat dripping from them as they recovered.

Teacher was having none of it, hovering over his shoulder. "Two minute break, then we start with sparring. Training sabers only!"

Morgan smiled, petting the cube as another life saving skill was added to his bag of tricks. "Don't know what I would do without you."

Teacher floated away, knocking his hand off. "Lay dying in a ditch. Refrain from petting me like a cat."

He snorted, closing his eyes as bruises faded. "I probably would be. Back to it?"

Inara groaned, dragging herself up as Alyssa rose smoothly. "As you command, my lord."

He threw them two sabers, holding one himself. Teacher hissed. "Enough with the theatrics. Begin!"

Morgan smiled, blocking an overhead blow as he failed to unravel a cutting wave of Force. Blood welled as his leg screamed, pivoting to avoid Inara hitting him over the head.

'This might take some practice.' He thought happily, closing the wound on his leg and kicking Alyssa across the room. 'But that only means I'm improving.'