Value Loyalty Above All Else [Star Wars]

Captain Kala looked at the port official on the holo, wondering if, if she tried very hard, she could ignore what the man had just said. Her Lord was standing on the bridge, one eyebrow raised. "I'm in a good mood, you utter buffoon, so I'll give you one chance to retract that statement."

"Imperial vessels are not allowed to dock." The man repeated, eyes hard. Not one that seemed scared, Kala thought. She wondered if she was going to have to break their pathetic blockade, and kill thousands of people, because of him. "Alderaan belongs to the Republic. Your presence here is a violation of the Treaty of Coruscant. Retreat, or we will open fire."

"Alderaan seceded from the Republic, specifically because of the Treaty, and so its rules do not apply. I have approval from House Thul to dock at this station. You will stand down, or I will order my ship to ramming speed and come see you in person."

"We will break open your hull before you can."

Kala sighed, hoping no one saw, and gestured for her people to get ready. Her second was already moving among them, double checking targeting solutions and making sure everything was as it should be. Clara was sent from that small part in the galaxy that was pure good, she was sure of it.

Morgan grunted, smiling a smile that sent shivers down her spine. "You can try. Mind you, my master, the Darth, might be a little upset if you succeed. I'm not sure Alderaan will survive that level of Imperial attention."

The man moved to say something, she had no doubt it would be snarky and uncooperative, before he was all but dragged from the holo. A woman took his place, looking scared out of her mind. "Please, that won't be necessary. Dock nine-four has been cleared, as per your agreement with Duke Kendoh, and will be available for as long as your stay lasts."

For as long as we damn well pleased, she translated. She thought her Lord might push the issue, and she wouldn't blame him, but he smiled at the women. Rather more friendly than before, too. "That will be excellent. I appreciate your cooperation, ma'am."

That was that, the holo cutting off after some more grovelling. She waved at her people to stand down, moving to dock the ship. It didn't take long, her Lord standing on the bridge like a patient gargoyle, and her people moved around him. He was just looking down at the planet, seeing space knows what, and she resolved not to bother him about it.

Captain Quinn walked onto the bridge as the outer doors opened, half a hundred soldiers moving to secure the hangar. She could see it from the holo, tucked away where it wouldn't be distracting, as they went about their work. Chasing workers and dignitaries out, setting up guard posts and letting her engineers do their job in peace.

"Thank you for your trust, captain." She startled, whirling around to see her Lord stare at her. In good humour, thank the void. "But rest assured I was not going to order you to ram the space station."

"Of course, sir. I would have, had it been necessary." She meant that, too. Alderaan might be a rich planet, and it might have moved much of that money to war in recent times, but the defences around the station were less than impressive. She guessed it should have had a fleet to back it up, though she had no idea where it was. Something to watch out for. "He sure seemed eager for it."

"That he did."

With that the sith strode away, the captain close behind, and she was alone on the bridge. Well, not alone. But alone in the sense she was the only one in charge. Clara walked up to her, shaking her head. "Honestly, you wonder how some people manage to get out of bed in the morning."

"He seemed confident, so he probably had backing from House Organa. Double check the ship? With a proper dock we can test the engine, and I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Already on it."

Well, that left not much to do. She spent some time double checking things, hiding a grin as her people got more and more annoyed at her interference, and then spent more time reworking security. She was no spook, and the navy didn't offer much training beyond the basics, but she read. Had ideas, and the best part about being in charge meant people had to listen to them.

She took criticism, of course, but people still listened. Her plans to strip much of the ship's internals and install bug sweepers, or get the computers working on facial recognition. No one that looked the part but wasn't should be allowed onboard, in her opinion. Workshops to make people aware who should be where, so no one with a clipboard and confidence owned the ship. But she had to work out those plans before showing them to Clara, rewrite and reorganise before showing them to her staff. Work on implementation and realistic outcome expectation and a hundred other small issues that ate away at the hours.

The officer's quarters wasn't somewhere she went to often, best if her people got a chance to vent and complain without their boss hanging over their heads, but today she decided to make an exception. The room was rather crowded already; the ship, while mimicking military life closely, wasn't built by regular Imperial contractors. Her people made room all the same. Clara smiled and handed over warm stew, she didn't try to figure out what it was made of, as if she'd known she would show up. She probably did, at that.

"So, who got on the boss's shit list today?" Her comms officer was a casual man, and very good at his job, but thankfully knew when to keep his mouth shut. Now was not that time, it seemed. "Not that our little bout of war starting chicken wasn't fun, of course. Figuring out how to block communications for an entire planet was a good challenge."

A good challenge. Never let it be said the man complicated his life more than he needed to. Clara shrugged, answering as Kala inhaled the stew. She'd skipped lunch, because of course she had. "We figure the official was either part of the Organa faction or otherwise doesn't like Imperials. Nothing to be done, though our Lord has since assured the captain his threat of ramming the space station was just that. A threat."

"Sure." The man drawled, spearing a piece of bread. The good stuff, too, not that vacuum frozen crap. Uncooperative port authorities or no, they could get better supplies here than on Tatooine. Using up the last of their good stock wasn't so bad. "Still hate to be the guy that organised that little display."

So would she. Actually, that reminded her. "Speaking off, and ignoring the theatre that just occurred, we're guests here. No one leaves the ship unless on assignment or under guard, and anyone, from the lowest crewman to one of you, starts something, I'll hang you by your balls."

That put a damper on the mood, but no way in hell was she explaining to the sith why one of hers put his mission in jeopardy. The dinner continued, though she let them be for most of it, and soon enough she was finishing up a report in her quarters. Being captain was nice like that, no more slumming it with other people. Her aggression might only come when ship combat was involved, but she still got annoyed at snorers and loud eaters. Or the ones that thought they could get away with rubbing one out real quiet.

By the Emperor, that was a memory she'd rather forget. The door opened, Clara walking inside, and she grinned as coffee was deposited on her desk. "You are goodness itself."

"I aim to please." She sat on the desk, informal like she couldn't be out there. "So, want the highlights?"

The gossip in her was going strong, so why not. She'd gotten better at filtering out the asinine info since their academy days, at least. "Two things. Firstly, Jillins is now leading the Chosen. Nothing formal, not yet, but they've been training like someone kicked the hornets nest. They've been talking to some of the other soldiers, too, though again, nothing formal. Second, Vette spilled why we're here in the first place."

"I read the briefing." Vette usually knew more than she did, though. Perks of being in love with the boss. "We're not here to support house Thul, find some VIP?"

"We are. But the VIPs are a bit more important than the rank and file know, and Thul is on the sith's shit list. Apparently they accepted Imperial aid, took all the money, and then decided to shirk their duties. Morgan's been ordered, and I quote, to realign the Duke's priorities."

That sounded nice. Especially because it had absolutely nothing to do with her. "So we hold, prepare to offer support if needed, and finish stress testing the ship. Sounds good to me."

"Yup, but there's something else." She focussed, seeing Clara frown. "This planet is a powder keg, and we're the only big Imperial target around. We could take any of their ships, even the modern ones they've hidden or sent away, but not their fleet. Reinforcements are unlikely, so if they try something, or we're forced to act, it will be on our own."

Well, not exactly the relaxing vacation she'd hoped for. Still. "Then I supposed we better make sure we're ready. And implement those measures, because even with half a hundred soldiers scaring everyone away, sabotage is their best bet at taking us out."

And on it went, planning and revising and sometimes seeming to make no progress in the slightest. But even so it felt worthwhile, because she had something to work towards. A goal to achieve. When she ran a fleet numbering dozens, because even if she tried to stay humble she was the best damned tactician around, she would be ready. Oh yes.

And the Empire would beg to get her back, on their knees, and she would laugh in their face.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"It's hard to skulk with you lot following me around everywhere." Vette muttered, her Valkyries silent as they matched pace. "I mean, just look at you. It's like someone turned all of you into an army or something."

"We're a legitimate business, ma'am." Jess had shaped up, enough so she was leading her very own squad. She was also the only one that backtalked, even if Dorka's lessons on respecting the chain of command had sunk eerily deep. "And you are our charge to protect. Business owners worth millions don't skulk by definition."

Well, and there was that. Miraka had done some fancy slicing stuff, wiping their past from the system. Registering as a company had taken Amelia less than a week after that, even if their growth had drawn some questions. Bribes had taken care of that issue quickly enough. Now they could buy and sell whatever they found, stole or claimed as spoils, with no one the wiser. Besides, it's not like big corporations are all that different from them. They just had longer to work on their public relations department.

Her ship had been docked somewhere out of the way, in those places any corp could hire if they had the money to spare, and them being heavily armed wasn't so unusual. It helped that they looked the part of a security force, uniformed and organised. Not some band of thieves, mercenaries and killers. Goddess, no. Just her own personal guard, since Alderaan was a risky investment. They'd understood, after some light bribery, and now her people were setting up camp.

She walked into the ship, her guard splitting off until two remained. Drakka of all people had suggested that, to give her more presence. The trandoshan she'd picked up on Tatooine had been lost in the reorganising, and to be honest with herself he'd been a momentary amusement. He'd get his paycheck, same as all the others, and she'd made it clear he could quit if he wanted to.

Dorka had agreed, however, so now she had two people following her around even in her own ship. She'd thought, perhaps naively, that being in charge meant she had the final say on stuff like that. Morgan should have warned her, the traitor. Or maybe he didn't know. Not many people tried to coddle sith, that was for sure.

Now there was an idea! Spread the misery around and convince. Convince who? Quinn? She wasn't talking to the fucker, and Kala was far too new to stand up to him like that. Jillins? He'd go for it, sure, but all Morgan would have to do is say no and he'd fold. That left… her? Alyssa and Inara? Whatever, too much work.

Her war room was filled, both with actual people and those joining in via holo, and her two Valkyries took up positions in the corner. Like gargoyles, really, and if she didn't know exactly what Dorka had been teaching her people she would have been worried. Now the mandalorian nodded at her, stepping slightly to the side so she could take the head of the table.

Amelia was to her left, her favourite slicer was blinking like she'd just woken up and joining in from afar, and the group rounded out as Gregor connected. The man nodded to her, taking in the room before setting his eyes on the map. That was everyone, and even though four shouldn't have made the space feel cramped she decided a bigger room was needed. "Ladies and gentleman, welcome to our first official war meeting! I'm very excited to hear your thoughts on my complete hostile takeover of Alderaan, and I expect to be sitting on the throne within the fortnight. Questions?"

"Do you want the Republic to send a hundred warships before or after you murder their biggest ally on the planet?" Miraka, at least, was smirking a little. The rest of them didn't seem amused, which was too bad. "And how does my slicing come into play?"

"Vette, please."

She sighed, waving her hand to Dorka. The man didn't flinch when it came within an inch of his face, staring at the map. "Fine, fine. Main objective of our visit here is to subsume, eradicate or infiltrate the Nine Fingers, one of the planet's most independent syndicates. We'll have to maintain the facade they're still in charge, of course, since the Houses rather dislike offworlders taking over their crime rings. If we play it right we can leave most of their business and contacts in place, since, by all accounts, it's rather light stuff. Gambling, smuggling and hired muscle are their main sources of income, though they have some forced prostitution, drug running and protection rackets going on. They'll have to be dismantled when we're in charge, but from what our sources have managed to gather that make up less than fifteen percent of their profit."

"Before we continue, ma'am, perhaps it would be a good idea to recap our current position?" Amelia made it a suggestion, which she appreciated, because she'd forgotten. Oh well. She continued at her nod, smiling blandly. "Thank you, ma'am. Gregor, perhaps you'd like to start us off?"

"Of course. Nar Shaddaa operations have been running smoothly, and the hutts are keeping their harassment out of the public eye. Funding rival businesses, trying to poach people, that sort of thing. Two more branch offices have gone up on Quesh and Sriluur, with feelers being put out into Imperial space. Profits have steadily increased as we expand, and we've begun funnelling large sums of credits into the Medinal Corporation."

Bah. She hated that name, though Amelia had managed to convince her a boring one was better than a provocative one. Still, good news all around, even if she'd known most of that. "Good. The more legitimate business we have the easier it will be to launder the rest. Miraka, you're next."

"It's been pretty quiet after I got everyone out of the system. Not easy, I might add, and it required some creativity I'm not sure I can replicate at will. And not foolproof, either. Some backup gets restored, or some smart asshole actually wrote something down, and they'll know."

Vette shrugged. "But not enough, so our lawyers can deal with anyone trying to make a fuss. And if they can't I know some people that can be mighty persuasive. That's all?"

"Pretty much. Oh, I'm training those refugees you send me, but it's slow going. I'll be able to do some big things when they're up to standard."

"Good. Dorka?"

"Everything's running. Training and integrating the people we're linking up with goes quickly now that the right people are in place, and I'd estimate we'll have a thousand men at the end of the week. If you want more we'll have to look into transport and some way to move them without causing a panic."

"A thousand is good. Well, now that that's all done, let's get to planning the takeover of the Nine Fingers. And for the record, I would change the name if I could. Let's go exploit a civil war, people."

Planning took time, as did revising and double checking, but before long she was free to roam the city. To properly skulk, because for this one she wasn't going to accept a guard. Strange, that. How she had two jobs. The gang boss suffering the competence of her lieutenants, going along with their schemes because it was better than stomping out initiative. Then there was the thief, the spy and assassin that watched her boss's back.

And the gang boss might accept their compromises, but the assassin sure as fuck woudn't. So she slipped away from her Valkyries, leaving a note explaining exactly what would happen if they tried to find her before she got back, and watched the city. The clean streets and laughing people, how no one seemed afraid of the dark. It disgusted her, on some level, that places like that existed. And that she wasn't born in one, though jealousy of that order wasn't something she entertained much.

Still, snooping was fun. Finding information a little less so, but no matter how pretty everything looked, the underworld welcomed her with open arms. Know how to move, how to talk and act, and no one questioned an outsider. They'd think you're just another mercenary, another corporate spy or pirate or smuggler, and they'll leave you be. Flashing credits, and she had plenty of those, these days, at the bartender got her a strong drink and a name. The information broker wasn't great, she'd certainly employed better, but he knew the lay of the land.

Such as that the Imp's weren't as involved as they claim to be, and House Thul only got minimal support from them. A few sith, and not particularly strong ones, and support personnel. No soldiers, no heavy armaments. Just money and people, just enough so they could claim their spoils if their puppet won. If not, nothing of importance was lost.

And the Republic wasn't much better. The Empire, for all its horrors and xenophobia and slavers, was a rich nation. Even more so than before, since the Treaty of Coruscant was written on their terms. The Republic wasn't, and from the way House Organa were selling their off-world assets, not doing much to support their ally. All stuff Morgan might be interested in.

Then she spent some time getting information for just her. Spending tens of thousands like it was going out of style, pretending to be a corpo-reaper. Those scary bastards that looked for collapsing planets to buy up, no matter what they had to do to make it happen. It was even true, if you squint. But she wasn't here to take over all export and import of their slice of paradise. Not yet, anyway. She was here to take over the Nine Fingers, and what self-respecting corporation doesn't want to know about local crime before spending billions?

So she worked, talked and laughed and drank, and before long she had what she needed.

Now all that was left to do was get her people in the right places, and no-one would be moving a crate of fertiliser without her knowing about it.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

His boots clacked on the marble floor as he walked inside the mansion reserved for House Thul, its guards shooting him unfriendly looks. Inara grinned back at them, tapping her lightsaber in what might be considered a threat, and they went back to doing their job. Alyssa shook her head, Quinn busy conferring with lieutenant Jillins. The former corporal walked with purpose, these days, and the captain had informed him the only thing holding the man back had been resolve.

Which was good, because he seemed less prone to bouts of near religious zealotry these days.

Inside the mansion itself the Imperial presence was starting to become noticeable, everything but soldiers scuttering about. He saw engineers, medical officers and no less than four high ranking diplomats before he even made it out of the entrance chamber, what personnel he passed pausing their work. One sith was business as normal, especially in an soon-to-be active warzone, but three was not. Less so when the first two answered to the third, the diplomats bowing. Figures they'd known who he was, just as he knew by their fancy uniforms they held a surprising amount of power in the Empire.

Or perhaps not, when the Empire is ruled by a large collection of murderous sith. Ones who would just as happily tear into each other as the enemy, at that. Diplomats were the lifeblood of the state, in a way.

Then there was the moff supposedly here to advise the Duke, but he wasn't going to be touching that with a ten foot pole. And the man couldn't make him, the most appreciated perk of being the apprentice to a Darth. Morgan was more than happy to leave the political backstabbing to Vette, especially since he was less than concerned about who sat on the throne.

"You lack patience, Duke Kendoh. There are standard procedures that must be adhered to." The Duke didn't seem to notice his entrance, though his sith bodyguards did. They bowed, lower than protocol demanded, and the other figure on the holocron spoke up. "Your disregard for our family rules is appalling. You are an abomination. Goodbye, cousin!"

"Fools. They won't be feeling much of anything for long." The Duke turned, noticed Morgan, and shook his head. His voice dripped with impatience, as if he'd trained for it. "You're not on my schedule. I don't appreciate being interrupted."

Alyssa wrapped the Force around his throat, tilting her head. The Duke went to his knees, gasping, and Morgan raised an eyebrow. She had been training, it seemed. "Do not ever speak to our Lord like that again."

The man nodded, more frantic than calm, and she let up. He surged to his feet, anger etched on his face even as he panted for breath. "This. I am a Duke! FimmRess, show this arrogant asshole what it means to attack the Nobility of Alderaan!"

He went down gasping again, Inara putting her hand on her lightsaber. The Chosen had been taking the time to spread out, overlapping fields of fire being pointed to the unknown sith in the room. Those sith exchanged a look, keeping their posture relaxed. "Please, do not kill him. He is an important asset to the Empire."

Morgan shrugged, waving at Alyssa. She let him go, having gripped a little harder this time. The Duke struggled to his feet, collapsing on a couch lining the walls. "What. FimmRess?"

"I'm sorry, Duke Kendoh. We are assigned to protect you and support your interest in the struggle for Alderaan. But we serve the Emperor first, and we will not oppose Darth Baras, or his apprentice, in their mission here."

Inara snorted, letting everyone know how little she thought that was even a possibility, and the Chosen relaxed. Somewhat, at any rate, and Morgan saw them take up positions at the entrance. No more interruptions, something he approved of. "Are you done, duke?"

It was the first time he'd spoken since entering the room, and the Duke seemed to realise how little he could actually do. The man bowed, his face settling into a polite mask. Arrogant or not, the man was still trained nobility. "Please accept my apologies, Lord. How might I make amends?"

"Jaesa Willsaam. What have you discovered?"

"Ah, yes, of course." He shuffled some, and it was a moment's effort to read the man. His emotions weren't as controlled as one might expect from someone of his position, and Morgan shut it off again after a second. Fear, anger and greed warred in his mind. He had very little desire to keep looking at it. "Information about this girl is difficult to come by. I managed only one lead. Nomen Karr's padawan fits the description of the former handmaiden of a noblewomen in House Alde named Lady Renata. I'd have questioned her already, but Renata is protected by House Alde's greatest champion. The man has never met his match in melee. He's killed two sith, and battled a jedi. The latter was supposed to be a closed spar."

Force sensitive? Without proper training there were limits with what you could do with it, but still. "Is that all?"

"I would be indebted if you brought Lady Renata to me. After your own needs are met, of course, but she would be very useful to us." Lust? Not that he could detect, which was good, but even so. Morgan shrugged, not knowing the women. If she made life difficult, perhaps. The Duke bowed his head. "I thank you for your consideration, Lord. While House Alde is a small player on Alderaan, it is affiliated with House Organa. Therefore, Lady Renata's estate is in hostile territory and very well defended. Be cautious."

That was that, walking outside with an escort that seemed ridiculously large and would likely only continue to grow. He'd already read over the reports Quinn sent, written by Jillins and going over the rank and file. Who would be a good fit for the Chosen, who could lead a second squad, what have you. The more Chosen, the less picky they'd have to be. Train a unit just right, give them experience and slug-throwers, and many low ranked sith would fall. Not without losses, not without blood, but they would fall. The same went for the jedi, and where Force sensitive recruits were rare, he could make Chosen whenever he pleased.

And the closer they got to Baras's goal, and for a little while afterwards, the more irreplaceable he became. Which meant he could afford to enhance more of them, which would draw more supporters. A cycle he couldn't stop even if he wanted to, but for now his escort numbered just under a dozen.

"I should have taken his tongue." Alyssa muttered, Inara patting her shoulder. "Insolence. Worse than disrespect, survival instincts that poor make for an unreliable asset."

"I'm sure he learned his lesson." Quinn noted. "Shall we return to the ship, sir?"

Morgan waved his hand. "Sure. Alyssa, Inara, stick with me for now. We're going sightseeing."

They fell in line as he picked up speed, relishing in movement. The Force was always happy to be used, and it cared little for what, but now it came with something else. A moment of peace, speeding through the countryside at a pace speeders would have had trouble keeping up with. Not on flat ground, maybe, but here? With mountains and trees and wildlife far more savage than the planet would suggest? Here mobility was everything, and being able to leap onto the highest rock and clear the fastest river, few machines would be able to match them.

He did slow as he noticed his two minions tire, a thought that made him snort. Two highly trained, insanely dangerous sith that somehow believed him when he said he was worthy of their loyalty, and he thought of them as minions. Still, even at a slower pace they made good time, and soon enough the estate came into view.

Morgan accepted the binoculars when Inara handed them over, high in a tree and invisible to their long ranged scanners. It was rather more decorated than he expected, especially for a planet at near war, but the estate seemed almost exactly as he imagined decadent nobility to look like. Sprawling, with a low wall meant more for decoration than defence, and with plenty of leisurely entertainment. Large ponds housing all manner of birds, orchards grown for esthetic rather than food.

There was even a maze, though one low enough jumping would have you see the solution. The housing was clearly spacious and constructed for the rich, large windows giving a splendid view of the surrounding nature.

That was where the prettiness ended, though. The main entrance had been fortified with mounted turrets, some dozen soldiers patrolling the gate. The low wall had been fortified with a laser grid, extending its rather pathetic height to one that would actually deter attackers. Anti-air defences had been installed, along with what he suspected were anti-tank mines along the main road. More soldiers patrolled inside, along the walls and not, and what civilians were out and about hurried to do their business.

Spending a short hour mapping the entire estate from several vantage points, and having both Alyssa and Inara come up with plans of attack, he called it a day. The trip back was almost as relaxing, if a bit more tedious than before, and he ignored some bureaucrat as she tried to get his attention.

Then, because this planet seemed designed to test his patience, the women pressed. Actually walked up to the transport he was boarding, two of Quinn's men inside.

Not the Chosen, they didn't have that feel to them, but his men all the same. They must have picked up on his annoyance, or perhaps they sympathised, because when the women tried to follow they blocked the entrance.

"I am Seranta Elklaar." She said, as if that was supposed to make the two soldiers back down. They didn't, their helmets surprisingly expressive as they glared at her. "I am the aide to moff Sarek himself, and you will let me pass."

"They won't." Inara explained, always the kind soul. "Moff or not, they serve in a sith's retinue. One who you are currently annoying with your presence, though you wouldn't be the first to display such atrocious survival instincts."

"The moff demands your presence."

Inara snorted. "Kick her out. If she insists, shoot her."

The soldiers moved to obey, but she turned out to be smart enough to leave herself. The door hissed closed, Morgan nodded absentmindedly at the two soldiers, and they arrived back on the Aurora after some brief meditation.

The actual planning would take time, he was still debating himself whether just the Chosen would come or everyone, but as he arrived in the training rooms Teacher demanded his full attention. The cube was flying, as usual, and he sat on the ground as he let the last of his irritation leave him. "So, mental attacks."

Teacher hummed. "Indeed. One of the most dangerous disciplines I know of, if mastered properly. Defence against it has been getting more popular, as the balance of war demands, but you experienced firsthand how devastating it could be. A jedi master flinched against it, though by his own admission he was not well versed in art. Constructing a proper attack, and not the wasteful club you've been using, will take time. But, once you do, few will stand against it."

"That kind of talk, if personal experience can be believed, usually leads to lots of painful training."

"And it has given you power few can dream of, so do not complain."

"I am humbled and touched." Morgan muttered. "How come every sith Lord isn't going around wiping out entire squads of jedi?"

The cube actually sounded scornful, which was always a good indication standards have been slipping since his time. "Because most of them are hammers, and know nothing of the deeper mysteries of the Force. Same goes for many Darths, which is such a disappointment I dearly wish to burn Korriban to the ground and start over from scratch. What few possess the know how use it to their own benefit, and not in the public eye. That would only invite the jedi to become better at defending against it, and give them nothing in return. The current status quo serves them well enough, with the jedi feeling secure in their protections and the sith Lord's bumbling along."

"Well, I'll try not to upset the balance."

Teacher snorted in disbelief. "And whyever not? You are my apprentice, a sith more worthy of a Lordly title than most of those idiots that dare call themselves such. It is the right of the strong to make their own way in life, no matter the consequences. Do not ever think I would disapprove, pupil, because I can guarantee you I have done worse."

"I understand." And he did, too. With enough power, mercy and ethics were back on the table. A point of pride, so to speak, to not have to resort to their level. "How do you perform a proper mind attack, then?"

"Simple, in theory. Attacking the mind is little different than attacking the soul, trying to achieve damage while your opponent tries to stop you. This is effective if enough damage can be delivered in a short amount of time, and can be fatal if performed by a strong enough Force user. You are not, nor will likely ever be, among those ranks. Do not take that as an insult, the strong often lack imagination."

Morgan wasn't insulted, but it seemed Teacher was in a good mood today. "You have skill, however, so you will learn distraction. Breaking the mind will consume too much energy, so instead we will confuse it. Make them see things that are not there, hear sounds that don't exist. Let their instinct work against them, and their paranoia sap their strength."

"Doesn't that still mean I'd have to break their shield?"

"It depends." The cube hedged. "But there is only so much power you can spare. Shattering a shield whole is more intensive than slipping past, or opening a small crack. Creating even the smallest opening can lead to victory, and you well know how much a split second of distraction can cost. Make them hear footsteps behind them, just soft enough to be noticeable, and they'll think they've missed something. Make your attack from the right while showing him one from the left."

"Won't it be easier to blind them, if I have access to their brain?"

Teacher shrugged. "Feeding stimulation is far easier than selectively disabling senses, but if you can, yes. If you manage to gain access without their notice, however, blinding them would somewhat tip them off. A noise might not, and win you the fight with your reserves intact."

"Then I suppose we better get started, yes?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It was always interesting, watching her Lord prepare for an assault. He himself had little military experience, though by now none of them could be called amateurs, so he spent most of his time removing problems. Making sure the people who knew what they were doing, in this case the captain and his men, were free to do so.

Not that there were many. House Thul was on its best behaviour, the moff had actually gotten the point and stopped bothering them, and House Organa couldn't do anything until the actual battle. Even if it was obviously coming, because this planet was on a knife's edge and they were so very afraid of tipping into open war.

She and Alyssa were going with the captain, some hundred men preparing for an all out assault. It would be their largest engagement, both for the troops and her, and she wasn't nervous.

Alyssa clawed at her hand with her pinky, capturing her own, and she rolled her eyes. Alright, perhaps some nerves. But not for the battle. People would die, even theirs, and that was inevitable. No, what made her nervous was their Lord. How he was only growing, and they struggled to keep up. Even with extra lessons from the Enosis, going both ways, and those special sessions with Teacher.

Even then, with the two of them, he was growing faster. Picking up more skills, more tricks and awareness and insight that sometimes made her shudder. Because it wasn't normal to have the Force watch you like some proud uncle, no matter how deep Mirla dug through her records, and it wasn't something they could replicate.

How they would be left behind sooner rather than later, and her biggest source of new strength would be cut off. To be just another face in the crowd, among hundreds serving from afar. Not thrown aside, this wasn't some Dark-addicted congregation ready to implode at the slightest provocation, but no longer special. No longer receiving lessons and information given so casually you could be forgiven for thinking it was worthless.

Alyssa and her had talked about it, of course. In those quiet moments where nothing else was expected of them, and they could decompress on the couch as they basked in each other's presence. But they had found no solution, found that the only thing they could do was keep trying, keep proving their loyalty, and hope for the best.

So she watched, almost hand in hand with her girlfriend, as the man boarded his transport and rose into the air. They would be flying slow and low, to avoid detection as long as possible, and hit them from behind. Him and the Chosen, who had finally seemed to have found some purpose.

She, and the rest of the men, would be staging the main assault. Cautious and grinding, to draw as many of their men to the front gate. Then her Lord would hit from behind, cut through their compound like butter, and collapse their morale. Together they would flood the base, ensure no escape was possible, and get what they were after.

Inara didn't like Vette, necessarily. They weren't friends, not now and probably not ever, but she could respect competence. Like how she'd managed to find all three escape tunnels, and had put some of her more discreet people at each. To block, more than anything, and make sure their prey stayed right where it was.

And soon enough she found herself loading onto her own transport, watching the countryside fly by as they prepared to start a war. Or enflame the one already ongoing, but she had left such petty distinctions behind on Balmorra. She had bigger things to worry about, though the wilderness of Alderaan was beautiful enough she indulged in some mindless staring.

Things like how to keep up with her Lord, though she scolded herself for the near obsessive thought. Alyssa was standing next to her, as was right, and though they couldn't quite read each other's minds she knew she had her support. And a training partner, fuck-buddy and whatever else she might need. Someone who was there, now and always.

But the ship touched down some two clicks away from the compound, keeping behind a mountain, and the soldiers disembarked. She didn't stay to watch, instead putting on speed and scouting the immediate surroundings. Their sensors could only get so much information, especially with stealth tech around, so they cleared it themselves. Not the most glorious job, but then the Enosis hadn't been all that fond of personal glory in the first place. Leave that to the arrogant shits from Korriban, dying confused and alone as they wondered why no one would help them.

She would live because others were there to catch her stumble, and to help them in return. Such a simple concept, yet the sith all but hissed at it. Needing help, growing strong not through lies but unity. Almost jedi in nature, though that order had its own problems. Her lightsaber sliced through some beast or another, four times her weight and an apex predator. That word didn't mean much to them, mind, so it died all the same.

"I think we should contact Mirla again, see if anything new was discovered." Inara tilted her head, considering, and Alyssa grinned. "Maybe annoy Teacher again until he spills more secrets."

"That was a one time thing, and only because our Lord was busy and Teacher impatient."

She shared a grin, knowing just what he had been busy with, and shook her head. Alyssa pointed vaguely at the estate. "We should link up again. Contact Quinn?"

She nodded, pulling up her communicator, and idly observed a cat slink away through the underbrush. Should they get a pet?

"Yes?" The captain always was short when in battle, especially one this big. Well, big for them. More of a skirmish in the grand scheme of things. "Is the area clear?"

"No stealth army, nest of underground bugs or any signs of an ambush." She reported, picking up speed as she followed Alyssa. "We'll arrive in one."

The man cut the connection after a nod, and soon enough they were there. The captain had been smart about it, she was glad to find. With hard targets, walls and turrets and soldiers that knew how to defend them, a full assault would do little but get most of their men killed. Instead he'd been turtling up to them, slowly moving their own shields up until they got within firing range. It had already become a game of chicken, seeing who retreated first as their power ran out and the shields collapsed.

It would be them, most likely. The estate had much more room for generators, while they had to make do with portable ones. But they had her and Alyssa, which meant soldiers could be a bit more aggressive. Being used as mobile defence platforms wasn't that bad, it was a good test of her defence in any case, and they learned to stop throwing grenades real quick after she threw the first few back. The soldiers directly behind her could stand and fire at will, angled just so where their fire couldn't be absorbed so easily.

A shame domed shield generators were so rare, and greedy for power, that they had to make do with flat ones. Still a godsend, and they ever so slowly inched forward as more and more defending troops arrived. Good. They weren't here to win, or to kill soldiers. They were here to draw as many of them to the main gate, giving the second assault a good distraction.

See how'd they like a sith in their ranks, caring so very little for their pretty shields. It was almost like a meditation, she found. Step, block left and redirect. Step, duck low and send a bolt back to its owner, who didn't dodge fast enough. Ignore his screaming, and scramble back behind the shield as one of the turrets turned her way. It couldn't do much against the shield, though it'd drain their power something fierce, and they didn't have enough of them to keep both her and Alyssa pinned down indefinitely.

The turret swivelled, and she helped one of the soldiers to stand. An old hand, his armour 'damaged' in a way that denoted badges of honour. The man had fear in him, both for her and the enemy, but nodded grimly as she stepped past the shield again. Four troopers joined her, safe behind her ever moving lightsaber, and they could shoot while the enemy could not. Nice thing about shields, that was. You couldn't shoot out of them just as much as they couldn't shoot in. Which meant any enemy that wanted to fire needed to stick his head out, and her men punished that with inspiring efficiency.

Then the screaming started, just as she was getting in the groove of things, and Alyssa's laughter washed over the battlefield.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"Lady Vette will not be joining us, then?"

Morgan turned to Jillins, the man looking back with what could be called cool composure. He still felt like a moth drawn to a bonfire, every now and then, but at least he'd learned to pretend. "She will not. Busy, as usual, though she has seen fit to lend us some of her people. Renata won't be rabbiting."

Their transport sat down, further away from the estate than the main assault, and the Chosen climbed out. He was the last, everyone falling in line as he moved. The pace he set was disappointingly slow, though still far faster than most normal soldiers could keep up with, and he idled away the time by watching his men.

Because the Chosen were his more so than any other, that was for sure. Men and women made superior by his own power, whipped into a frenzy by a zealous young soldier with such ease it was a miracle they weren't preaching his good name for all to hear. But Quinn wouldn't stand for that, and before all they were soldiers.

So their zealousy warped into a strange mix of composure and savage loyalty, now led by a man who he himself had opened his mind to. Not something he was going to make a habit of, that. But he'd been young on Balmorra, even though so little time had passed, and the then corporal had seemed so lost.

He wasn't unaware that the best way to get loyalty was by not wanting it, and that he was fucked no matter what he did. So Morgan would have to settle for having them behave as if they weren't, and not look too deeply at them in the meantime. Who knew, he might even get used to it!

'And then promptly start believing it is only right for people to worship the ground I walk on, and get killed before I turn thirty.'

But now he had a job to do, so he put it out of his mind. The estate of House Alde slowly arrived in the distance, and he checked his display. Only a minute or so before the assault was to start, and most of the defenders would be drawn away. He pulled his aura tight, slipping into that half state of camouflage where it was hard to feel his presence. But not too hard, because Vette had been snooping.

Snooping and skulking, her exact words, and she had found there was a jedi on the estate. Sent there recently, no less, so organised by House Organa when they found out he was coming to attack. And not only that, Alderaan investigated any jedi coming to their planet. Those secrets had been spilled by a sloppy noble, and Vette had seen fit to acquire the file on the woman.

A knight, no surprise there, and one that had seen combat before. But more interestingly, she had been trained by a master specialising in tracking down sith assassins. Which meant she likely knew how to feel for hidden presences, and would come running the moment she felt him sneak up from behind.

That was the best case, of course, but if she didn't and joined the main defence, no harm done. Alyssa and Inara could hold her off until he got there. There was the possibility she would warn the defence and then not come herself, but why would she? Her file suggested she had killed sith before, even a high ranked marauder serving under some Lord, and that she favoured direct confrontation. No reason for her to overthink when a sith was being underhand, and especially no reason for her to suspect he wanted her away from the rank and file.

Because they, both sith and jedi, served as something of a beacon. As long as they lived, and were seen fighting, morale would hold. Why wouldn't it, when they could turn the tide of any battle at a moment's notice? And a protracted battle would mean more chances for his people to get killed, or reinforcements to arrive. No, drawing her out would be best.

Morgan crept up to the walls with Jillins close behind, staying low and moving fast. The estate had cameras, of course, but it would take time for people to respond. "Setting charges now."

The joy of having a demolition expert on hand. Jillins' father had been a miner, if he remembered correctly, though whatever path the man had seen for himself changed when he joined up. Now he used those skills to blow up a wall, and hopefully create more confusion in the process. He joined the lieutenant in turning away, the rest of his men stacked on both sides of the soon-to-be entrance, and the man pressed the button.

Before the smoke had even cleared Morgan blocked the lightsaber coming to take his head, something that had been happening far too frequently. Whatever happened to slowly bleeding your opponent to death, letting a fight drag on for minutes and minutes? Or maybe she knew he could heal, which would make sense. "You know your assignments."

The jedi, who probably wasn't going to introduce herself, tried to block their way. Tried, and was kicked into the wall as punishment for splitting her attention. Honestly, being able to kick people really hard was more therapeutic than it probably should be. "So, Yelesda, any chance we could talk this out like the adults we're both pretending we are?"

"Die as you lived, monster."

Bantering during a fight was a bad habit, really, but oh so fun. Especially because her soul shield was looking a little weak around the edges, and her mind was protected by something resembling a thin piece of paper. Being able to end the fight at any time did bring confidence bordering on arrogance, so he sighed. Still, one more taunt couldn't hurt. "Trying to be happy?"

And she hadn't even asked how he knew her name. Morgan sighed louder, stepping as she raked her lightsaber over his chestplate. Or tried to, because one of his knives turned it aside just enough for him to slip past. His Phrik knives, which surprised her enough he broke past her defences. She still blocked, of course, but that was alright. The second knife impacted her chest, her armour offering so very little resistance after he gave it an extra push with the Force, and came out clean on the other side. She staggered, and he ended it before she could do anything rash.

Her headless corpse fell behind him as he strode through the hole, seeing his Chosen had cleared the other side. Just a few stragglers, though he saw more closing in as he looked around. "Jedi's taken care of. Is it just me, or are they getting weaker?"

"Might be." Specialist Horas grunted. "Or you've been getting stronger."

"Or that." Morgan allowed. Jillins tapped on his wrist communicator, pointing the way, and he followed the lieutenant as they cut through what little resistance they faced. Even on his own his knives would have probably sufficed, whining in the wind as they cut through soldiers and flesh, and with a squad around him they often floated idly over his shoulders. Right until they arrived at the main gate, and they faced a wave of blaster fire.

The Chosen hunkered down, diving behind cover at speed, and he himself leaned left. Bolts flew as he walked forward, nearly dancing as they continued to miss by a little as a half a foot. Then he put on speed, when he felt their fear spike and hopelessness settle in, and sliced through one of their turrets. Screaming started soon after, in despair and anger and pain, and a voice joined them. Laughter, much more menacing than it had any right to be, and a few of the soldiers broke rank.

Followed by a few more as he finished their second turret, and then the floodgates opened. Without order his knives reaped a bloody harvest, though what soldier dropped his weapon was left alone. The few brave, or foolish, men still defending the gate died as his two sith surged forward, and then the battlefield turned quiet.

Contrary to what one might expect, he wasn't that much better at stabilising the wounded than the medics were. They could stick them full of kolto, which was specially designed for that sort of thing, and they had numbers. No, he'd look after them when the battle was over. For now he had a mission to finish, and ensure they could leave before the full might of House Organa showed up.

Which led him here, to the point of fiercest resistance. Alyssa and Inara had joined him, fighting with a fury he found somewhat uncharacteristic, and the Chosen made efficient work of killing. Closed hallways and narrow rooms ground fighting to a slog, normally, as numbers ceased to matter. Unless you had sith with you, in which case it didn't really matter what you threw at them.

Some tried to be clever, mining the room and throwing explosives with very little time left on their detonators, and that might have even worked. But only might, because he was somewhat experienced with telekinesis. Rolling up carpets to spot the mines wasn't so hard, Inara took an almost impolite degree of happiness in throwing them back to their owners, and exploding the grenades early neutralised them fine. Not being able to throw them back was a shame, but needs must.

"We surrender!" The last room had grown brains, it seemed. Morgan held up his hand, causing the Chosen to cease fire. Alyssa and Inara came to a halt slightly behind him, lightsabers held close. "If you promise to let us and the Lady live, we are willing to discuss terms!"

He stepped forward, rounding the last hallway, and saw the man on the other end. Early thirties, his helmet laid someone behind him covered in blood, and feeling scared out of his mind. Morgan smiled, not that the man could see, but knowing it would only freak him out more as it translated to his tone. "No discussions, soldier. Unconditional surrender, and I promise to let you and the men go. No prison camp, no illegal but guaranteed to happen mistreatment. You'll be disarmed by my men, allowed food and water, and escorted out into the wilderness."

The man hesitated, fierce whispers came from behind him, and hung his head in shame. "I agree. Forgive me, Lady."

Quinn and the rest of his men were securing the estate, taking prisoners and assuring the staff they weren't about to be lined up and shot, so he contacted him. Arranging a squad or two to come pick up their new prisoners wasn't hard, and Morgan shook his head at the captain. "Let them go. All of them. I want this estate as empty as a ghost town."

"Sir."

That was that, and he walked further inwards as he appraised the art. Untouched, after the areas they'd fought in, and rather tasteful. He wasn't the biggest fan, paint was paint no matter how you threw it at a canvas, but some pieces he liked. Not enough to steal them, but their nobility didn't spend their hard earned tax credits on golden statues. Or this noble house didn't, which admittedly wouldn't translate to the whole planet.

He focussed as they crossed into a larger hall, more akin to an indoor football field than anything that could resemble a room. Two people were there, staring at an open, secret, exit as the man whirled around. Their escape tunnel? With the amount of dust on this side of it, Vette's people must have set off explosives. "Halt, sith."

The man sounded calm. Confident. His weapon, a plain looking sword, was held at his side. Considering they had lightsabers he was either ignorant of the danger or it was made of something that resisted them. He'd plan for the second, seeing as the man was known to have killed sith before. Morgan walked forward anyway, causing the man to tense.

"You are not here by invitation, stranger." The woman, Lady Renata by process of elimination, sounded less calm. Still fairly normal, but an edge of fear was there. "Leave, or I will tell my guard to remove you."

Morgan snorted, tilting his head. "Your army is either dead or have surrendered, the jedi House Organa sent you has been dealt with, and I have a hundred men securing your estate. Reinforcements, which you will no doubt have called by now, will arrive too late. I need only information, and assuming you don't lie to me, you can leave here alive."

"I think not. Windredd, escort this intruder out."

Her polite noble talk was somewhat undercut by the way Windredd immediately went for the kill, and Morgan forced himself back as the man exploded into movement. And a return blow was blocked by the sword, confirming his suspicions. Alyssa and Inara tensed, eager as they were, but he shook his head. "Secure the room, make sure she doesn't escape."

He ducked as the blade passed over his helmet, moving to kick. Unlike the jedi, Windredd put up a defence that didn't immediately crumble. Instead the man was pushed back some, eyes cold as they looked at him. Calculating rather than angry, sharp rather than righteous. Not someone trained by the jedi, that was for sure.

Yet he fought almost as well as Soft Voice did, his blows coming with strength nearly as devastating. Morgan smiled, swiping left as his knives shot out. Windredd twisted, a move that would have put any acrobat to shame, and managed to dodge one while grabbing the other. Morgan's telekinesis failed as it was thrown back, shearing over his shoulder and taking some material with it.

But no blood, and Morgan pressed as the man fell back. Giving ground, letting his opponent tire himself. Smart. But not something that worked all that well on him, and after another four exchanges Windredd changed tactics. Became hyper aggressive, ignoring his own wounds in favour of scoring them on him. Even with an actual lightsaber Morgan struggled to achieve a wound that mattered, though the man had as much trouble doing so to him.

Push, twist, block a knee strike that would leave him crippled. Morgan landed a glancing fist on his shoulder, knives slicing through armour, but again it was a glancing hit at best. Ten seconds passed, Windredd putting on speed as Morgan did the same. Faster, more exotic. Trade blows that would have made metal scream, avoid the kill strokes coming after his head.

His armour took a beating, though the Phrik reinforcements held well against whatever the man's blade had been made of, and it was after half a minute that they separated. Morgan took a deep breath, grinning under his helmet as his wounds knit themselves back together again. Windredd pressed a button on his wrist, his stance relaxing as kolto did its work.

"You fight well. Much better than the sith Duke Kendoh sent last time. What is a man such as you doing answering to a worm like that?"

"I am the apprentice to a Darth, Warrior." Morgan took off his damaged helmet, causing Windredd to do the same. His smile grew. "The worm answers to me."

Windredd nodded, Morgan bowed, and a capsule was shot at his face. Red mist enveloped as he jumped to the side, not liking that in the slightest, and his knives went back to trying to gut the man. Not an easy task, his evasions growing smoother by the second. An experienced fighter, Morgan thought, and more than used to adapting to new techniques.

And he revelled in it. Not quite as he did with Soft Voice, that was sparring and nothing more, but too many of his fights had been one sided. Desperately surviving against a jedi master who could kill him at a whim. Battling a sith Lord hobbled by a godling, a man filled with anger and spite. Or the other way around, cutting through jedi and soldiers like carving a steak. No challenge, no honour. Just work, having to resist the temptation to play as he tried to avoid boredom.

The last proper fight he'd had had been back on Balmorra, even though he'd lost. But the jedi had to work for it, back then, and he'd won anyway. Even if they'd killed him his mission would have been completed. So as Windredd tried his best to separate head from body, and his knives eagerly hunted for flesh in return, Morgan smiled.

A proper fight, against an opponent who respected the art. He could almost feel his skill growing, trying tricks and strategies he'd only theorised. Blending more aggressive attacks with telekinesis, or working to time the attacks of his knives. How he was forced to recognize and compensate for flaws in his form, where a mistake meant certain death. It was exhilarating like so little was, but everything had to come to an end.

Which was not in his favour, he acknowledged. Windredd paused as his blade rested against Morgan's neck, eyes showing his confusion as Morgan carefully extracted himself and closed the nick. "You are a marvel. An utter marvel. Bravo."

"What are you doing?!" Lady Renata screamed, composure forgotten. "Kill him!"

Morgan waved, Inara appearing next to the women. She put a finger to her lips, smiling wickedly, and the noble quieted. "He would. You have a bodyguard worthy of a king, Lady Renata. But as much as I admire his skill with the blade, which is more than you can fathom, he is not sith. Or jedi, though he's had some instruction."

"Soul defences." Morgan clarified, seeing the woman's confusion. "And mind protections, for that matter. They aren't bad, and he clearly worked hard at them, but whoever instructed him was far from an expert. And his body strengthening technique is nearly all instinct, which is incredibly impressive, but it has given him a lack of internal control. I wouldn't be able to freeze his body like this otherwise, believe me. He is wasted on a petty noble like you."

He stepped closer, taking Windredd's blade from slack fingers. "I know the answer already, I do, but I would be a fool not to ask. Work for me, work with me, and I can show you how to fix it. How to achieve control over the Force like you couldn't imagine, and climb to heights that would make sith Lords flinch. Dying here would be a waste, Warrior."

Releasing control, and keeping watch just in case the man tried to finish the job with his bare fists, Windredd shook his hand. "That was uncomfortable. I am sorry, my Lady."

The man closed the distance, Morgan exhaled, and Windredd fell as his body was cut in two. "And the man still nearly dodged, even without a weapon of his own and cramping muscles. I hate you, lady Renata, just a little, for not sending him to the jedi. For keeping him here, and not letting him spread his wings properly."

Lady Renata wilted under his glare, more sith entered the room, and Morgan felt his melancholy turn to a flash of irritation. "FimmRess, showing up after all the work is done. You better not have hurt any of my men to get down here."