Value Loyalty Above All Else [Star Wars]

Jillins felt his heartbeat thump and thump as the Alde champion fell to the ground, keeping his rifle trained on the entrance. The captain had called and said sith had come knocking, and that he'd decided to let them through. The right call, he thought, though he would have had to step in if they had arrived earlier.

His Lord was having fun, the manic grin on his face was proof enough of that, and he knew that was a rare enough occurrence. The sadness at killing a warrior that now seemed etched in his face was something he could do little about, and then that fell away too.

Perfect blankness, a pond calming after a stone had been thrown, and Jillins ordered his men to spread out as the sith entered. "FimmRess, showing up after all the work is done. You better not have hurt any of my men to get down here."

Sith killing tactics, Jillins found, were both easy and complex. Easy, because they bled the same as mortals. Hard, because getting that precious fluid out of them required some creativity. Slugthrowers too, of course, though they carried attachments to their blasters for that. A clever little contraption Lady Vette had secured for the Chosen, and subtle besides.

Well, subtle until they fired. Then metal would come screaming at their enemy like death itself, and their lightsabers would do so very little indeed. "Pete, you and yours left. Horas, right. Overlapping zones of fire, and account for enhanced speed."

Confirmation came quietly, as his own voice had. Muting their comms was a standard tactic, really, but sith had senses more sharp than normal. He watched with grim resolve as his men spread out, blasters pointed down but held steady. If it came to a fight some might well die here, though Horas himself was living proof anything short of that would be temporary.

"Nothing of the sort." FimmRess assured, looking at the corpse. The man's sith escort eyed him and his men, though neither went for their lightsaber. He also saw Lady Alyssa and Inara mirror the strangers, and his men accounted for it with practised proficiency. "The Duke congratulates you on your impressive venture into House Alde. I'm here to take the fair Lady to him."

"Not until I'm done with her." His Lord dismissed, turning to the woman. FimmRess bristled, it was almost enough to make him raise his blaster, but nothing happened as the Lady blanched in fear. "Has your memory refreshed, lady Renata?"

She took a moment to compose herself, her face resettling into polite submission. He didn't think it was very convincing. "I'm sorry I ordered him to kill you, sith. I hope you don't hold it against me."

"We all have our roles to play."

"R. Right. You see, I've been fending off Duke Kendoh's advances for some time, and I just assumed you were here for him. If the Duke didn't send you, I'm happy to help. You mentioned a girl that left with the jedi, right?"

His Lord nodded, patient in the same way stone was. An absence of feeling rather than kindness or empathy. He'd have to inform Lady Vette, see if something could be done. "So I did."

"I was aware of the young handmaiden who left Alderaan with a jedi master, but I'm afraid your sources were mistaken. The girl never served me, and I didn't know her. I. I know who she worked for, if you keep me away from Duke Kendoh."

"I felt no lust in him." Jillins suppressed a shudder, reaffirming his own conviction. Strong he might be, dangerous he might be, he couldn't read a person's heart by looking at them. "Why does he scare you so?"

"He acquired appetites, those only known to the uncivilised, when he was exiled. I have no desire to be part of it."

"Consensual?"

"As far as I know." She admitted. "Promise you'll keep me away from him, and I'll tell you everything."

"I promise."

The woman sighed in relief, but Jillins knew better. His Lord would keep his word, yes, but that was by no means an ironclad promise. "The girl's name is Jaesa Willsaam, and she was a handmaiden of Gesselle of House Organa. She was always by her side. Before the war, Gesselle was an aristocrat like myself. Now she leads the Organa troops against House Ulgo. Her headquarters are somewhere on the front line."

"The Duke will know where to find her." FimmRess confirmed. Jillins couldn't predict the man, if sith ever could be predicted, so he ordered his people to stay alert. No stupid mistakes, not now.

"Then the Lady is not to go to the Duke."

FimmRess scowled, but bowed his head. The pecking order was still solid. Jillins relaxed marginally.

Then a knife keened through the air, and Lady Renata of House Alde dropped dead on the floor. "That's for ordering my death and wasting talent. He was a blade, and I don't blame steel for drawing blood."

Jillins watched FimmRess calm at that, which he found strange. But then again, the man was sith. Revenge he could understand, even if his mission here was impossible now.

And that was that. He pulled his squad back as they assembled and returned to the transports, ordering their arrival craft to leave without them, and stuck close to his Lord as the man boarded the largest of the ships. The one carrying the wounded, at that, and medics were already crawling over them.

There was enough room he wasn't kicked out, which was good, so he hunkered down with the other soldiers and watched. Watched as the sith walked over and past the wounded, numbering some two dozen.

Four of them were dead, covered and tucked in a corner, but the living drew attention. Kolto was great for stabilisation, for keeping you alive, but it didn't take all the pain. Didn't stop the horror of trying to raise your arm but failing, because there was nothing to raise anymore. So all the soldiers here would live, but for most of them their careers would be over.

Medical pay wasn't terrible, in the Empire, and neither was the social stigma that came from being wounded, but it wasn't nice. Not some cushy retirement, being taken care of by the state. It meant cheap prosthetics and cheaper drugs, enough to take the edge off the pain but little more. Certainly no kolto, even if it could fix the injuries you had.

So he didn't blame them as some started crying, the sith kneeling next to them with a hand on their shoulders. His expression was still flat, muted and absent, but few seemed to notice. They were too busy looking at the man knitting flesh back together, soldiers shaking their heads as they snapped back to focus. Concussions were a bitch, Jillins sympathised.

No one was quite so out of it to touch the man, though a few reached out, and his Lord didn't pause. Just moved from one to the next, though he didn't regrow limbs. Flesh smoothed over the stumps, as if undergone hour long surgery or a fortune of kolto, but that was it. The pain was gone, though, and tears turned to relief.

Jillins followed his Lord as the man followed the wounded, docking at the Aurora and being moved to the med-bay. Some were discharged immediately, the place wasn't so large, but none of the amputees were. Those were grouped together, and after double checking everyone else, his Lord moved over. Jillins was sure the man knew he was watching, but no one said anything about it.

"I'm sure you've heard about me regrowing specialist Horas' limbs. I am willing to do the same for you, but be warned, it will hurt. And it will take time, so we will make a schedule. I'm sure the medics would be willing to assist." The medical officer in charge nodded quickly, though the sith hadn't turned to look. "Thank you. Private Gammares, the nerves weren't burned out completely. It made the pain worse, but will also make it easier for me to regrow the arm. Sit."

The man sat, trying so very hard not to scream as flesh bubbled, and failed not long after. Jillins wondered why this hurt but the operation for Horas hadn't, and then looked at the soldiers. Not ones used to sith, by the way they were sitting, and suspicious of their fortune. Sith were to be obeyed, yes, but never trusted. An unofficial rule in the Imperial military, and one anyone with brains kept to.

But now there was a price to pay, pain to endure, and they relaxed. They knew pain, even if they feared it, and that wasn't so bad. Not as terrifying as a kind sith, wondering if they were about to become another cautionary tale.

Jillins stood as his Lord left, he'd stopped paying attention to the time somewhere after the first half hour, and approached the group. They were crowded around the two that had all their limbs back, prodding and whispering among themselves.

"Lieutenant!" The whole group shot up like fresh recruits, spines so straight he could have put a ruler to them. His thoughts wandered, wondering when men twice his age had started doing that. "Sir?"

Ah, right. Jillins cleared his throat, looking them over. "I'm here to talk about the Chosen, and your future.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Vette grumbled as she lounged on the couch, talking to herself and not bothering to be concerned about it. "Honestly, not taking me with him. The nerve of that man. I'll get him, don't think I won't. And then demanding I hand over my people to make sure his prey doesn't get away? I shouldn't even be here, waiting on him."

She ignored her datapad on the first ping, scowling at the wall, but looked over as it made a more urgent sound of distress. Lieutenant Jillins contact id flashed, and she quirked an eyebrow as she picked it up. "Ma'am. Let me assure you that the mission was a success, and that Lord Morgan is uninjured and on tending to the wounded. During the mission, however, I witnessed him fight, and enjoy said fight, an Alde champion. He then emotionally shut down after killing the man, and has not displayed any since. It is not my place to intervene in this matter, but I found it prudent to contact you. If I have overstepped I apologise, and will report to captain Quinn for suitable punishment."

'Emotionally shut down?' Had she seen him do that before? Angry, sure, and exhausted, but never quite so bad his own soldiers snitched on him. Damn, now she felt bad for being irritated. She sent a reply to acknowledge she had it in hand, then stood. 'So, how to fix that? Stripping seems unlikely to work, so let's pretend to be great at this relationship thing!'

Finding him wasn't hard, more time consuming, really, and he nodded when he saw her. Not even a smile, which wasn't a great sign. "Hey. You done here?"

"I am. Something you need?"

"I do." She grinned, dragging him away by the arm. He matched pace easily enough, uncaring about their destination. "You went ahead and did stressful work, without me, I might add, so it's relaxing time. And I won't take no for an answer!"

His mouth clicked shut. Good. Their personal quarters were neatly organised and clean, she suspected someone did it for them, and pushed him over to the couch. He sat with the kind of ease usually found in granite, all edges and straight lines, but she ignored it. Throwing herself on his lap was always fun, he was way too strong to drop her, though trying to push him into actually using the back support was met with mixed success. "I really do have some work to do."

"Nope. I'm an expert at running away from my problems, made a career out of it, in fact, and I'm not letting you do it. So, we're gonna sit here, cuddle, and you'll talk if you want to."

Putting on a drama for something to watch, and wiggling around until she got comfortable, she ignored him entirely. This was fine, right? No pressure, he could leave easily enough if he wanted to, and something to distract him. Not that he liked drama's, but that wasn't the point. Being put under a microscope never set anyone on ease, so it was more for her than him.

It took time, maybe around forty minutes, before he reclined and actually got comfortable. Then he blinked after another ten, sighing and wrapping his arms around her. More like trapped her, really, as if he was afraid letting go would make her run off. "Sorry. I don't know why I got like that."

"It's alright." She said, petting his hair. Not much to pet, admittedly, but her nails dragged soothing circles over his scalp anyway. "Walk me through it?"

Morgan hummed, tightening his grip. It would be uncomfortable if she wasn't as strong as she was, but she found it more enveloping than restricting. "The battle went well, the jedi they sent died without issue, and we confronted Renata. She had a guard with her, Windredd, and a light scan told me he wasn't a jedi. Static soul defences, not weak but unable to respond to proper attacks. Could have ended the fight without touching my lightsaber, but I didn't."

The urge to scold him for that came, of course it did, but she pushed it away. So very much not the time. "He was good. As good as me, if not better. Strong, fast and experienced. Adapted to my fighting style like he was born to it, that sword of his more than able to keep up."

"He didn't have a lightsaber?"

"Just a normal sword, probably a relic. Made from Beskar or Phrik, though." He shook his head, a grin appearing before vanishing. "Even grabbed one of my knives out of mid-air, that never happened before. We fought, neither of us could get a clean killing stroke, and I started to enjoy myself. To push harder without risking immediate death, or my opponent folding like a deck of cards."

She hummed to let him know she was listening, lowering the volume on the drama. Screaming couples usually entertained her, but not so much right now. "So we fought, and I lost. Not the fight, but he was better at the sword. Quicker to find flaws, better at exploiting them. I froze him before he could cut my head off. Not one to hesitate, him."

"Cut your head off." Vette hummed, hoping it would mask the growl. "How close did he get?"

"Second layer of skin. He was fast."

She swallowed. "I see. Then what?"

"I was still high off the fight, so I offered him a job. To teach him how to fix his deficiencies. Took his sword, and let him go. He didn't have many good options." Morgan shrugged, her body unable to resist the movement. Damn her if he wasn't getting stronger. "If he ran I would have let him go, but he wouldn't. Not without his lady, and if he took her I would have frozen him. He knew I would see through a lie, would kill him if he tried to delay, so he attacked. Still nearly dodged my lightsaber, and it was just a waste. A waste of him serving that self obsessed noble, of not learning to hone his potential. A waste of death, because honour meant more than life. Just a waste. Then FimmRess came, I felt a flash of irritation, and then nothing. Buried it all, though I can't remember consciously deciding to do so."

"Old habits?"

He stiffened, and for a moment she panicked and wanted to hit herself over the head, but he calmed after a heartbeat. "From the project. Soft Voice was my only friend, back then, though I was cordial with the others. More like coworkers, I guess? I closed everything off back then, too, to keep myself productive and focussed and alive. To do stuff I didn't want to do, but had to. He was good at tricking me out of it."

"Sounds like today. Are you alright?"

"It wasn't a dissociative episode or out of body experience, nothing like that." He dismissed, and she startled. Those weren't exactly the most common things to know about, even if she did. But she'd spend a year learning the crap out of medical techniques. Seeing one of your crew vented into space had made her all kinds of paranoid, back then. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

"Oh, are we starting with the platitudes?"

He grinned, and she felt a pleased thrill make her smile in turn. "No. Those are only for the other people, right?"

"Damn straight. Masks are fine, or at least expected, as long as we don't start using them with each other. So just tell me if you have another one, alright? I can do this all day."

"Cuddle on the couch? I'd lose those abs you keep salivating at."

"Not with fleshcrafting you won't. We could not exercise another day in our lives and look great. No sagging tits for this twi'lek, no sir."

Morgan snorted. "There used to be a time I'd have given an arm for that. Or maybe a finger. My left pinky, at the very least."

"I mean it, though. Tell me, please?"

"I promise." He said, and she relaxed further as he dug his palm in her shoulder. Super strength massages were the best.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Despite her complaining, which he called out as whining to her great horror, Morgan left after another hour or so. And feeling better, too, which was a bonus. Feeling like that wasn't bad, he wasn't feeling much of anything, but it was nice to have someone there to pull him out. Or, you know, fucking amazing.

Regardless, he still had work to do. Quinn would want to speak to him about the assault, going over tactics and mistakes and casualties, and he was more than happy to learn. Not that he was particularly good at it, mind you, but knowing what he was talking about would help. No need to become some genius military strategist. He had people for that now.

The captain, unusually, wasn't in his office. When he met the man he had been a front-line combatant, someone leading missions in the field, so finding him comfortable behind a desk was almost strange. But the captain had been a high officer before his downfall, so he supposed it made sense. Checking his datapad he found a meeting had been scheduled, one which he had been invited to, and he set off again.

Walking into the room caused it to freeze, Quinn and his two lieutenants bend over a table. Seven other soldiers stood in the room with them, squad leaders and sergeants, and four Chosen watched it all from the corners. A bit overkill this deep in the ship, but having your entire command structure in one place warranted it. "Captain."

"Sir." Everyone saluted, though Quinn settled on a nod. "Are you here to join the debriefing?"

Ah, getting chewed out for being late. Not something that happened much, these days. Morgan inclined his head, a silent apology. It had been scheduled right after the battle, but Vette had captured him. Nothing for it, though someone would have probably fetched him if he hadn't been in his personal quarters. "So I am. I hope I didn't miss too much."

"Just going over battle preparation and intel vetting. We were about to start the main assault." Quinn waved at the table, a map of the estate spread out. "Care to start us off?"

Morgan shrugged. "You know most of it already. We blasted through the wall, I killed the jedi, we linked up at the main gate. Routed the defence force, split off again, and my team went after the lady. Battled her guard, got the information I needed, then killed the woman."

"And if the laser grid had gone to the ground, hidden within the stone, as a means to lure attacks into a false sense of confidence?"

That was a good point, actually. They hadn't, sure, but why not? "Then I'd have jumped it. The Chosen might have been able to join me, assuming they left some of their heavier gear behind. If not, turn the pylons directing the grid to slag with my lightsaber. Had that not worked, blow a hole in the ground and check if it extends underground too."

Quinn nodded, satisfied, and the meeting went on. The casualties were low, though four dead still made him grimace, and he decided it was good he hadn't come here feeling nothing at all. Not caring when you got four of your people killed would be bad, to say the least.

Yet it wouldn't stop him from doing what needed to be done in the future, and he wondered if this was how monsters were made. They did what they thought they needed to do, what they had to do, and felt bad about the consequences. Until they felt a little less bad, until the need got a little more pressing, and before you know it you're sacrificing people on the blood soaked altar of the Greater Good.

Private Bruce O'grand. Specialist Isabel Highwater. Private Harun Marrow. Private Sola Zapal.

So he memorised the four names, scolded himself for not doing so back on Nar Shaddaa, and promised himself he wouldn't ever come to think of them as acceptable casualties. Unavoidable, maybe, but never tolerable.

The back and forth went on and on, longer than the battle itself had lasted, and Morgan mostly listened. Officers were quizzed, rebuked or praised, and he tried to add to it where he could. Nothing big, and nothing as insightful as the captain managed, but a kind word was better than nothing.

And that was that, the meeting ending as everyone went to get some much deserved rest. But not him, because he didn't really feel like it. Better to keep busy, and there was more he could do in the med-bay.

"Don't move the shoulder, the muscle needs time to strengthen." The soldier nodded quickly, a young woman, and he made the mistake to scan her over. Either she hadn't calmed down from the battle yet, too much adrenaline in her, or she really liked it when he touched her shoulder. Not knowing how to deal with that in the slightest, and wishing to save her life from Vette, he resolved to ignore it entirely. "Have the medics check you over."

The woman saluted, Morgan looked away as she swayed her hips a tad too much, and his datapad chimed as he was about to move to the next cubicle. Technology that still felt alien, sometimes, and actual lightsabers, but people still had to make do with cloth for privacy. "What?"

"Morgan, old friend. I'm in town for work, thought we could grab a drink."

He didn't recognize the voice, his datapad was confident this person was allowed to call him like this, and he sighed. "I don't have any old friends, John. And you know Vette's going to have her slicers up in arms when she learns you broke through my security."

"She doesn't have to know." John dismissed. "I'm good at my job, she'll never find out."

"She will when I tell her."

"Eh. It'll be good for her. Miraka has been getting bored after her galaxy wide data wipe anyway. Inspired, that was. So, drink?"

"Haven't been making friends. I show up at a bar and we wouldn't be able to finish the first round before half the patrons are replaced by spies."

"Don't worry about it. There's a little cantina tucked away past some dead nobles' embassy. We'll have privacy."

"If you say so. Give me half an hour."

"See you then, old buddy."

Morgan disconnected, sending a message to both Vette and Quinn. Informing the medics to set aside some of the more complicated wounded, those that would take too much kolto or where the stuff would do a bad job, he left.

The city was quiet as he walked through it, no one batting an eye as he passed them. Not because they didn't care, of course. He was sith, and even the most arrogant noble kept a wary eye on those. No. It was because he was currently sinking himself beneath the waves of the Force, blending and mixing his aura to that of his surroundings. It wasn't true invisibility, not quite, but people ignored him.

Just part of the scenery, and not something to be remembered. The cantina was easy enough to find, exactly where John said it would be, and he sank a little deeper as he walked inside. It was hard to maintain this level of concentration, to keep the mindset needed, but it was worth it.

John's eyes skipped over him twice before they focussed, and an actual flinch went over the man's face. He came within ten feet, too, and it must have annoyed the spook. "John. Started without me?"

"Nothing of the sort. Just something to wet my tongue." John recovered smoothly, of course he did, and waved at the droid serving them. "I checked the old rust bucket myself, we can speak plainly."

"That's good. Were you humouring me, just now? If you answer truthfully I'll tell you how to ward against it."

A heartbeat of silence passed as the man considered, nodding his head lightly. "Yes and no. I have some countermeasures against Force assisted stealth, and they work well, but I suspected it was you. Doublethink. I wasn't waiting for you, just a friend. That sort of thing. Activating the hormones comes with consequences, so I didn't bother. Might have if you'd gotten closer, though. Damned scary stuff."

Truth? Close enough, Morgan decided. "Good to know. Force stealth works partly on a mental level, which you seem to have already known, but we can't pass through solid objects. An automated nanite swarm would have found me easily enough, and if set up properly can warn you without interference. Are those countermeasures common?"

"And I'm sure you'll be keeping that weakness unguarded against." John grinned. "And no, they are not. Not to say you shouldn't keep in mind they exist, though."

"I've been busy, will get busier, and as fun as this is I have appointments to keep. What do you want?"

Cipher four sighed dramatically. "You're getting less fun by the month. But fine, if you insist. Been taking the time to get used to my new and improved self, stress testing and such, and it works like a charm. Figured I owe you an explanation, seeing as you delivered on your end of the bargain."

"That would be nice."

"Wouldn't it just. So, my faction within Imperial Intelligence has been getting somewhat ambitious. Keeper is doing his best to mediate, as is his job, but the old man is getting tired. So, we…" John trailed off, surprise flickering through his otherwise impeccable emotional control. "You know who I'm talking about? You really, really, shouldn't. Most sith Lords don't."

"Don't worry about it."

The man very much seemed to want to worry about it, but moved on after a moment. "Alright. Anyway, Keeper's been doing his best. His best wasn't quite good enough, and since I needed to test my body, I took some initiative."

"You wiped out your own organisation?"

"Don't be daft." John snorted. "That'd take me at least a year. No, I just thinned the ranks some. Took care of the more idiotic Minders, made sure the Fixers knew who they answered to, and had talks with the other Ciphers. You know, before some sith Lord decides we overstepped one too many times and comes to pay a visit."

"The Dark Council wouldn't stand for a Lord attacking their Intelligence division."

"Maybe not." The spook allowed. "But perhaps they won't mind if they promise to hold back. Perhaps some ambitious Darth sends his up and coming apprentice, who knows much more than he should, to remind us who we answer to. Or they send one of theirs to take direct control, which wouldn't solve much. Few sith make good spies, trust me on that."

Morgan shrugged. "Sounds like you've been having fun. Anything to share that's more related to my job here?"

"Don't play dumb, you're not good at it." John frowned. "You know as well as I do that having Intelligence on your side will be crucial. But no, not really. If Baras could get the info you needed from us he wouldn't have bothered to send you in the first place."

"Fair enough. A question, then, about subverting orders. You seem to be good at it."

The spook grinned. "Sure, sure. I'm technically, partly, working for you. Mostly. If you squint."

"I'm here to kill the parents of Jaesa Willsaam, to destabilise the woman and draw her out of hiding. Problem is, I want to recruit her instead. Killing those she loves would be problematic."

"That it would." John waved his hand side to side. "This the girl that can see the true allegiance of anyone close to her? Don't see why Baras would let you keep her."

"Baras is a Darth, a sith who has gotten his way for a very long time. He believes he owns me, which is accurate for the moment, so he would control the woman through me. He needs her dead, but if I recruit her instead he would have to kill me to do it. Something getting less easy as time goes on, and escaping with her is a possibility. Which would set him back to step one, this time with me as his enemy. The most logical option would be to let me have her, then kill me a month or two later."

"You assume Baras is a creature of logic." He put a hand up, grinning. "Not saying you're wrong, but keep that in mind. Cruelty and short-sightedness runs in their blood. I agree it's probably your best bet. What's your question?"

"How do I kill her parents without killing them? Baras gave a direct order, I've got little leeway."

"So present two bodies for his people to find. Faking death is an old art."

"And his people will be far better at it because of that."

John shook his head, disappointment dripping from his face. "You are a fleshcrafter. Take some corpses close in height and weight, do your thing. Or are you telling me that's beyond you?"

Is it? He hadn't tried before, learning shapeshifting hadn't been all that pressing, but it sounded possible. Teacher would know more. Morgan smiled, inclining his head. "That is an excellent idea. You seem unworried about me recruiting Jaesa, though. Or are you telling me your loyalty is to me and me alone?"

"I wouldn't insult you like that." Cipher four chuckled. "But I am, contrary to expectation, just as I present myself. Tricking a sith is good fun, don't get me wrong, but I know when to play nice. A living ally is so much more useful, wouldn't you agree?"

Morgan stood, draining the drink that had just arrived. "I do. Good luck, my newly made old friend."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Leaving house Thul after squeezing the Duke, and Morgan was almost tempted to do so literally, he took a breath of fresh air. Vette was tapping away on her datapad, having insisted on coming along and then spending the entire time not paying attention. "Going to tell me what you're up to?"

"Nine Fingers warehouse was struck with all signs pointing to us. Which is strange, because we didn't do it. False flag attack, probably, and it turned some neutral players against yours truly. Having to overhaul some plans, accelerate assassinations. Nothing I can't handle."

The last part was said almost challengingly, as if he had anything but faith in her. He said as much, and she looked away. "Everything alright?"

"I'm fine. Still takes me off-guard, sometimes, to have someone believe in me like that. Anyway, what now?"

She put the datapad away, smiling wickedly. Morgan sighed. "No, we're not robbing the man. Not that much to steal, for one. Being allies is a distant second, but niceties must be observed."

"As if he would ever find out it was us." Vette scoffed. "What then?"

"Training. We know where general Gesselle is thanks to our dear friend the Duke, so that's our next target. And it won't be a full assault again, before you start complaining about being left behind. Her forward base holds some five thousand troops, not something we can take on, so subtlety is the name of the game."

"You plan to sneak in?" He nodded, prepared for the argument. She took a breath, face set, before deflating. "Faith, huh? I trust you to be careful."

They were in public, he reminded himself, so sweeping her up and carrying her off to do heinous things to her was inappropriate. By the way she startled she must have picked up on it, which, since he actually had something of a time-limit on this whole shapeshifting thing, meant it wasn't happening anytime soon. Vette growled, low and annoyed, before stomping off and muttering about the proper order of sexual aggression.

Morgan grinned, his good mood lasting all the way to the training rooms. Teacher was already there, floating as knives cut across the space. Morgan plucked one out of the air, raising an eyebrow. "Bored, are we?"

"Training, apprentice. Even us masters must keep up with the times. Learned a new trick to ape?"

"Catching things? Never would have thought of it on my own, true. And I'll have you know imitation is the most sincere form of flattery."

"A planet would be better. People love being gifted planets."

He frowned. "They do? I don't believe you, you demented cube. Pulling tricks on your poor disciple, the shame of it."

Another knife came at his face, faster this time, and he leaned to the side. It embedded itself in the door, rather deeply, and Morgan grinned as Teacher huffed. "Please, go slower. I almost can't keep up."

That led to a few frantic minutes of dodging and rolling, an ever increasing number of knives hounding after his head. They drew blood, too, and he thanked his past self for getting into training clothes before entering. Still, they eased after a little while, the cube grunting. "My instruction must have finally started to sink in. Come sit."

Morgan sat, smirking lightly as Teacher immediately joined him. His control over the Force had been strengthening as they worked on repairs, but it seemed he had a while to go. He let it be, though. No sense poking at sore spots before asking for a favour. "So, I'm looking to fake some deaths."

"Oh?"

"The girl we're after won't be eager to join if I killed her parents, but I can't quite disobey Baras either. So an asset gave me some advice, and pointed out that fleshcrafting is uniquely suited to creating fakes from corpses."

"It can." Teacher allowed. "But fleshcrafting is a Force discipline, and cares little for the dead. It would require you to infest a corpse with your power, in essence creating an undead, and then shape it. This will, to those not blind and senile, leave marks."

Morgan sighed. "So much for that, then."

"Some trust, apprentice. While moulding the dead is not suited to the art, those alive can be altered just fine. Especially so if you have a template to work from, such as the girl's parents. All it would require is to have two subdued, preferably unconscious, prisoners."

"Oh." He perked up, leaning forward. "Good. How do we do that?"

"By practising, of course."

"Of course. I'll go get some meat from the kitchen, I suppose?"

Teacher wobbled. "That won't work. Changing just the skin won't fool anyone, so you'll have to go deep. Bones and DNA, hair and teeth. Not something you're going to learn from a slab of steak."

"I'm not subjecting my own people to experiments." He held up a hand, face hard. "Not even if they volunteer. Not that that word means much, anymore."

The cube sighed, floating up again. He still took it slow, but occupied his seemingly favourite position. Orbiting Morgan's head, changing distance and speed at a whim. "You won't learn this any other way. Who would you consider acceptable subjects? Prisoners of war, perhaps? Murderers, thieves. Rapists? Ah, rapists. Always a good source for morally acceptable sacrifices."

"Don't make a joke out of this."

"I'm deadly serious." Teacher objected, voice low. "The best way to keep a populace docile while getting what you want is by isolating those they deem lesser. Those they can convince themselves to not care about, for what soul rapes another? What monster kills a child, and why should I care what happens to them?"

"Enough. Do not become a whisper in my ear, Teacher."

The cube distanced himself, tone returning to normal. "As you please. You will need to understand evil if you are ever to fight it, apprentice. Make sure morality doesn't invite weakness, for others don't share your moral fiber."

"I will try my best." Morgan kept his tone flat, even if he allowed some warning to slip into it. "How many?"

"No more than four. They won't have to suffer, they won't even have to know."

"No, Teacher. I won't be slipping down that slope just yet. I'll be asking Vette to find me terminal volunteers, those that won't survive no matter what, and offer proper compensation."

Teacher shrugged. "If that makes you feel better. Don't mistake me, I approve of your compassion. It is a weapon few wield as well as they think they do, but it is a weapon all the same. Harden yourself against those that will throw it in your face. Some cannot stand kindness, and will seek to break you because of it. For now, let's work on your stealth."

Morgan was happy enough for the change of subject, sinking into the Force and telling the man about his encounter with John after sending that message to Vette. It was heartening to see success in the field like that, and might make breaking into the military base doable. If Force stealth could be defeated by sensors and dogs, after all, no one would have bothered.

Training stealth and meditating overlapped, sometimes indistinctively so, and by the time he regained awareness his stomach had that strange feeling of emptiness. Not hunger, it hadn't been close to enough for that, not in deep meditation, but it let him know time had passed. Roughly two days, by his reckoning, and since no one had woken him up he took the time to stretch.

"Don't you eat?"

He turned, seeing captain Kala standing in the door. He'd heard her, of course, but reacting before people knocked creeped them out. A measure of fear was unavoidable, but he would rather not make people so paranoid they wouldn't speak to him. "I do. Deep meditation allows the body to feed from the Force, allowing us to go without the essential three for a period."

"Oh. Right. I brought some food."

He took it, smiling. "Thank you. I hope you haven't been standing there long?"

"Not at all." He'd meant it as a joke. Either it sucked or she ignored it, since she didn't even crack a grin. "Someone has been monitoring your training, though Alyssa managed to dissuade us from causing a panic when you disappeared."

"Ah, yes. Apologies. I achieved no great breakthrough, but slipping in and out of visibility would be concerning to watch."

"No trouble, sir."

Kala shuffled, he didn't need his emotional sense to know she wanted to ask something, and was clearly nervous about it. "Speak freely, captain. I believe I've said that before."

"Why are you the way you are? I mean, I didn't-"

He cut her off with a raised hand, waving at her to sit. She did, if somewhat uncomfortably. The sparring mats were thick, which should help, but he supposed not everyone was comfortable sitting on the floor. He hadn't been, before. "It's a fair question. Also a broad one, though the cheap answer would be Korriban. I gather that wasn't what you meant."

"It wasn't. I've heard stories, though. Everyone has."

"Most are probably true, or worse." Morgan shrugged. "It is a place where the strong rule and the weak try their best to survive. Take it from someone who's been both, neither is conducive to a long life. What specifically did you want to know? I won't be upset, even if I decline to answer."

"Sith. You are sith, but you don't act like them. I've been talking to those that served with them, under them, and the horror stories are plentiful. Disregard for the lives of their men, horrendous punishment for failure, the fear some would be selected as their toys. You don't expect anyone to do anything but their job."

"I will take that as a compliment." He rolled his eyes as she stiffened. "Relax. Anything short of extreme disrespect or a direct attack I'll take in good humour. I get being social isn't your strongest point. As for my behaviour, I was lucky. Found a teacher who trained me without prejudice, and my mission lets me act as I please. As long as it's accomplished, mind, but I hold more freedom than most."

Well, that and the fact he didn't use the Dark. That helped. Not an excuse, though. The Enosis used it heavily without succumbing to their baser urges. Kala nodded, but didn't seem satisfied. "That isn't how power works, though. Being kind, pardon the oversimplification, means others who aren't can take your place. The military is filled with examples, good honest officers replaced with sycophants and yes-men."

"But I am not just another soul. Not to sound arrogant, but stabbing me in the back won't get you far. Those that wield the Force hold enormous personal power, and that lets them act as they please. As long as others with the same don't oppose them, true, but the point stands. If I wish to be kind, I'll be kind. And if anyone doesn't like that to the point of treason, well. I graduated Korriban as an apprentice to a Darth. I'd wish them luck."

She was quiet for a moment, looking down, and when she spoke her voice was soft. Hesitant. "Am I Force sensitive?"

"No." Morgan sighed, making his own tone as kind as he could. "You are in the sense that everyone is, but not enough so to interact with the world around you. Did something happen?"

"Not recently. High naval command blocked my advancements the moment I graduated, if it wasn't for Quinn telling them to back off when I put in my application I'd still be hunting pirates at the edge of Imperial space, but now I command a warship. I don't know if anyone told you that. That by not caring what species I was, you saved my career."

"Quinn told me, yes. It might just be me, but I never understood how xenophobia survives. I get why people think that way, even if it's stupid, but it's not like humanity was here first. The sith purebloods build the sith order we know today, the Empire couldn't exist without allowing new people to join it, and taking strength from those different than yourself is so much more reliable than keeping things pure."

"Survival means adapting, nothing stays the same." Kala muttered, clearing her throat. "The rest of the Empire won't like that attitude."

Morgan grunted, going for another joke. "Well, good thing I've got a brilliant strategist to lead my ship, then."

She nodded, he wanted to sigh when she seemed to take that statement far too seriously, and watched her stand. "I'll take up no more of your time, sir. Here is a report of the last few days."

He took it, thanked her, and then he was alone again. Not too long, even if he managed to finish reading the file. Supplies had been delivered and secured, the last of the injured had been taken care of, and he still had several limbs to regrow. Vette came marching inside like fury itself, slapped a datapad down on the floor, and collapsed in his lap like the world's angriest kitten.

"Two fucking days, you utter ignorant asshole. Two days of leaving me all alone, off in your little magical world. Two days with everyone asking me questions like I was supposed to know what you were up to. Two days of-"

He silenced her with a kiss, grinning madly, and put his chin on her head. "I missed you too. You could have woken me up."

"Fuck you." He could almost feel her glare, though her tone turned sullen rather than mad. "Sometimes I think you're doing all this to torture me, but you honestly don't know better. You're a bad boyfriend."

"The absolute worst." He agreed, only partially as a joke. "I should have told you, I'm sorry."

"Shut up. You don't get to put yourself down."

Morgan kept silent, grinning, and she leaned back to pout at him. "Oh, did you want something?"

"Bad boyfriend." She repeated. "I've had to be all knowledgeable and responsible and in charge for days without a break, so you get to make it up to me now."

He weighed that over, confirming her emotions just to be sure, before standing and dumping her on the floor. She squawked indignantly, looking up as he towered over her. "That would be nice, but I feel someone trying to get my attention. Be good till I get back, will you?"

She gaped at him, silently horrified, and he strode out the room with a fond smile on his face. Honestly, she was too good for him.

And would probably get him back for that. Morgan snorted before focussing, pinpointing the presence he'd felt. This being an ambush was unlikely, he reasoned, since the man's oath wouldn't look kindly on it, but all the same he approached with caution. And stealth, though hiding from Force users was not something he was going to be able to do yet. Not for a while.

The city sported many isolated locations, from decorated alleyways to small islands in man made ponds, but the one his contact had chosen was more ironic than that. A children's playground, perfectly maintained but empty all the same, and he found Bundu standing in a sand pit.

"You are aware those things are filled with unspeakable foulness, yes?" He greeted, since the jedi seemed far too busy staring at nothing. "I mean, not like we get sick, but still. I'd clean those boots."

"Your good mood is an insult to the natural order of things."

Morgan paused, considering. "Are you upset I killed people during a war? Soldiers that knew what they signed up for, and were trying to kill me in return? I know people joke about jedi having bleeding hearts, but that's going a bit far."

"You killed an unarmed, surrendering woman."

"The noble? You mean right after she sent her prolifically skilled, Force using bodyguard to kill me? The same woman that would have gleefully watched me and mine be hanged? That innocent little flower? How dare I. How'd you even know she surrendered?"

"She would have been a fool not to."

"That's true. Oh, the humanity. The nobles are waging private wars to fight for their precious throne, killing thousands of their own people in the process, but the moment I touch the people that started it all I'm the asshole? Not to mention they are, in fact, nobles. Getting rich while doing nothing is in their job description."

"I do not cast blame." Morgan snorted. The liar. "You have given your reason, the Force judges your words to be truthful."

"Thank god for that. Would be a shame for you to die here. So, got the moralising out of your system?"

"I am ready to get to business."

Morgan paused, breathing in the Force. His aura swelled briefly, enough so to saturate the immediate area, before letting it dissipate. The man took half a step back, surprised and wary, before Morgan nodded. "Good. You called it, you start. What do you want, Bundu?"

"The secret you told me on Tatooine has prompted me to meditate. I have found meaning in balance, and have attempted harmony. It is not going as well as I hoped."

"Sit." Morgan walked into the sand pit, crossing his legs as steel groaned. "Show me."

Bundu did, and to his credit there was no hesitation. Morgan looked, curious to watch the man's defences lower, and observed the Light clinging stubbornly to the man. How it infused every bone, every fiber, and was so very reluctant to leave. "What do you see?"

"The Light being stubborn. What do you think of when you draw on the Force."

"Harmony. Balance. The true nature of the universe."

Morgan shook his head, lowering his own shield and inviting the man to look. "Every interpretation of the Force is valid, and so none of them are. It just is, and bends to our expectation. You still think, on some level, that the Force should be Light. Order and purity, righteousness and purpose. You need to let go of that, and take it without expectation. Not how you want it to be, not how you expect it to be, but as nothing. Colourless energy, though even that is in interpretation."

The man tried something, he wasn't entirely sure what, and nothing of note happened. The Light wobbled, maybe, though that felt like a lacking description. "I don't understand."

"It is hard to teach what I did out of instinct. We will practise."

They weren't disturbed as they did, as he tried to explain or shed understanding, and as hours passed the man seemed to get it. Slowly letting go of his instinct to shy away from parts of the Force, as he'd no doubt been trained to.

No magical revelations were made, but progress was achieved. Morgan found that good enough, Bundu didn't seem disappointed, and he moved to leave before pausing. "This might be what some would call a stupid risk, but I have something I would ask your opinion on."

"I will answer if I can."

"My mission on the planet leads me to one general Gesselle Organa, who surrounds herself with an army. I plan to sneak inside, take what I need, then kill her. Is that going to be a problem? If so, I would rather we work it out now."

Bundu didn't say anything for a few seconds, then bowed his head. "If that is what needs to be done."

"Really? You seemed rather opposed to my actions earlier."

"I seek to understand you. Killing an unarmed civilian did not fit the pattern, and so I sought an answer. You do not consider those in power civilians, which is an opinion I can understand. I thought you were slipping, before. Now I know that you are not."

"That's all, then?"

"Why is it more honourable to kill a thousand men in battle than one in her bed? The Republic will not suffer terribly by her loss, and it is better than the entire army being destroyed."

Fair enough. He took his time walking back to the ship, though. His good mood had settled into low contentment, and he sought to enjoy it. It led him to the med-bay instead of his room, nodding to what personnel were on duty. There were another few who needed their limbs regrown, and the bunch stiffened as he came close. "At ease. Who's next?"

The group looked at the only woman left, who nodded grimly and bit down on a mouthguard. Morgan started after she nodded again, annoyed at the fact this had to be painful. Needless suffering, in other words. These weren't his Chosen, unfortunately, or other sith. These troopers knew little about him, and had listened to far too many horror stories. A kind sith meant a dangerous one, and gifts had to be avoided at all costs.

He finished up as he mused, the process growing easier as time passed. Not like he was doing the heavy lifting, anyway. Just providing the needed fuel and some direction, removing stem cell limits and encouraging them to multiply. It looked strange, admittedly, but that was just because he was hiding it from view. Low level illusions weren't his forte, for sure, but seeing an arm regrow as it really did might be a bit much for them. Bubbling flesh was nasty enough to look at.

Only then did he get back to his room, opening the door to see Vette reading on the couch. The picture of bored surprise flickered over her face, waving as if nothing was wrong. Morgan took a second to think that over, nodding easily. A game of pretend. Game on.

So he took the time to make food, feeling her increasing frustration and annoyance as she did her work. Actual work, from what he could tell, which was an impressive level of multitasking. He put down the meal in front of her, smiling as she thanked him with a distracted murmur.

And then, because cheating didn't matter as long as you won, he opened his mouth. "So, I've been meaning to ask for a favour."

"Oh?"

"Yes. The general we're supposed to kill, she's hidden behind a shield. One linked to their planetary shield generator, but not officially. Think you can find some people to cut their connection? Just a glitch or two. Long enough for me to slip past and get the answers I need."

Vette shifted, Morgan grinned as she accidentally flashed him, and made sure his eyes stayed on hers. "Probably. If it's an unofficial job someone will have heard. When do you need it?"

"Not that quickly." He assured, stretching his arms until his back popped. Vette resolutely ignored him, her focus taken up by her datapad again. "The sooner the better, but I'm in no great hurry."

"I'll look into it."

Morgan shook his head. "Thanks. I'll go take a shower, if you don't mind."

"Why would I?

"No reason." He stood, knowing more than seeing that her head tracked his movements. "Say, do you have that key somewhere? You know the one."

Her breath hitched, if not terribly so, but her voice remained steady. "Should be in the closet. What do you need it for?"

"Nothing. Just thought I'd hang on to it. You know, for safekeeping."

"Right."

He grabbed it, made sure the drawer was locked, and turned the shower on. Locking the thing wouldn't stop her, wouldn't have even before she got super strength, but it was fun seeing her squirm. It was also fun walking back in the main room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, because it actually caused her to crack.

Ah, seduction. Nice to know all those hours of training didn't just keep him alive. Vette put her datapad down overly gently, scowling deeply. "Fine, fuck. You win. That what you wanted to hear?"

"It is nice." He allowed. "But I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about. Say, did I tell you yet what my plan is for the general?"

"No." By her tone she didn't care much, either, and advanced. He raised a hand, not able to hide an amused grin as she froze in place, and gestured for the couch. She sat with barely restrained patience, tapping her foot. "I suppose you're going to tell me?"

"I am. So, the general is a hard woman. Prefers to lead from the front, makes sure her soldiers know she's fighting just as hard as they are. She surrounds herself with good officers, has had more than enough time to make mistakes and learn from them, and generally speaking doesn't have any weaknesses."

"I'm riveted."

"Shush." Her mouth clicked shut, glaring with what he supposed she meant as anger. It came off rather needy, but who was he to judge? "Anyway, no obvious weakness. Not a problem if my job was to kill her, but I need to know who Jaesa's parents are. And I can't even cheat, because someone was smart enough to hide their identities. So I'll have to interrogate her, somehow ensure what she's telling me is the truth, and then kill her. All that before the entire army gets woken up and I'll have to make a run for it."

He waited a beat, but she didn't interrupt. "Here I am, though, and I know a little secret. You see, she took a lover. Scandalous, I know. She chose poorly. One of her officers, Blenks. Blanks? Close enough to find the man, in any case. I plan to threaten him in front of her, and if she doesn't crack, hurt him. Might even get lucky and find them together."

"Thoughts?" He asked, when she didn't reply. She flicked her hand.

"Cut off a few fingers, I don't see what you need my expertise for."

"Fair. I'm more asking for your moral opinion."

She focussed, tilting her head slightly. "Do you feel bad about planning to do that?"

"No. Not really."

"And I don't care about some soldier I'll never meet. You have my blanket permission to do whatever. Happy?"

Morgan thought on that, taking a few seconds, then nodded. "I am. How about you? What do you need to be happy?"

Her clothes came off so quickly he was pretty sure she tore something, and he grinned as he found himself with an angry ball of twi'lek in his arms. Which, being an intelligent and thoughtful man, he promptly carried off to his bed. Vette squirmed as he unlocked the drawer, and Morgan grinned wider.

A roller coaster of a few days, but it seemed to be ending on a high note.