“I am beside myself.” Baras praised as Morgan walked into the chamber, dramatically holding a hand to his chest. ”Not only did you get the twi’lek to cooperate, but you completed the task and claimed the ancient lightsaber.”

Morgan bowed his head, glad he had detoured to bring Vette to the med-bay first.

‘No need to subject her to him quite yet.’

The Overseer that had given him so much trouble hadn't been there, and according to the staff hadn’t been seen since their encounter.

‘Vette will be fine, the treatment shouldn't take long.’ He told himself firmly.

“Vemrin was not in my chambers as I instructed. I take it he sought to stop you and claim the ancient weapon as his own.” The Darth continued.

“He tried.” Morgan replied, head bowed.

“Bravo.” Baras praised again. “I see you may indeed become one of the strongest sith in the galaxy. Your trials are over. You are now my apprentice.”

“As you say, my Lord.”

The Darth laughed. “This is only the beginning. With you as my right hand, we shall strike fear into the Empire's enemies.”

Baras stalked back to his desk. “I must convene with the Emperor and inform him of your progress. This shuttle pass will take you to Dromund Kaas. Meet me at the Citadel there.”

“As you command, my Lord.”

The Darth huffed another laugh. “Take the twi’lek slave as my gift. Do with her as you wish. If she’ll be of use, by all means, take her with you. Fuck her, kill her or use her to sweep for mines. A reward well deserved.”

Morgan straightened. “She has proven a capable combatant, and her skills complement my own.”

Baras hummed, picking up a datapad. It was a clear dismissal.

“I must ask a favour, my Lord.” Morgan asked. “There is a holocron in the library, containing knowledge about sith alchemy. I wish to take it with me to Dromund Kaas.”

The Darth looked up. “Ah yes, that old thing. By all means, take it. It certainly isn’t doing much good here, with how it refuses to teach anyone not able to pass its test.”

Baras leaned forward, clasping his hands under his chin. “Tell me, how far along its lessons have you gotten?”

Morgan wondered if the librarians had been eavesdropping, not that it really mattered. This wasn’t a secret he cared to keep, not from Baras. “I’ve been able to enrich the blood in both my arms, but adding a third limb has proven difficult.”

Baras stayed silent, and if Morgan didn’t know better the Darth seemed surprised. “You’ve had two lessons with it, correct?”

“Yes, my Lord.” He confirmed.

“Interesting. Yes, be sure to bring it with you. Sith Alchemy has many useful applications, fleshcrafting more than most.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

Baras waved. “Yes yes. Away with you know, I have other business.”

Morgan bowed and left, steering to the library. It was all but empty, with only an old sith librarian walking the rows. He approached the old man.

“Darth Baras has given me leave to take the holocron in section 4c row 7.” He told the sith.

The librarian's eyebrow shot up. “Is that so? That is most irregular.”

The man made no move to do anything.

“Do you doubt my word?” Morgan asked.

The man startled, as if having forgotten he was talking to someone. “By the Emperor, no. If a Darth has given you leave, by all means, take it.”

Morgan frowned as he moved past him, putting the librarian out of his mind. ‘Being surrounded by this many sith artefacts must be addling his brain.’

The holocron was as he left it, the glass pristine and the holocron hovering just above the pedestal. He sat at the desk, focusing on the pathways to open it.

They seemed narrower than ever, taking nearly twenty minutes to open. When he did, the voice drifted out. It sounded curious.

“Tell me, for research purposes, how long did that take you?”

Morgan tilted his head. “About twenty minutes or so.”

The voice sighed. “I’ll make it harder next time. Now, why does my favourite acolyte seek my knowledge? Lose another limb?”

“No,” he responded dryly, “but I have finished my last trial, becoming the apprentice to Darth Baras in the process.”

“Congratulations, but you are not the apprentice. You are an apprentice.” The voice snarked.

Morgan nodded. “True. Nonetheless, I asked permission to take you with me to Dromund Kaas, so that we might continue my fleshcrafting training.”

“As such,” he continued as the voice stayed silent, “I feel it might be appropriate to give you a name. Referring to you as ‘the voice’ is becoming tiresome.”

“My name was not recorded in this holocron for a good reason, apprentice.” The voice snapped, annoyed. “As I’ve told you before.”

Morgan raised his hands placatingly. “I did not mean your old name. I wish to give you a new one.”

“A new name? What would I need a name for?” The voice demanded.

“How about Teacher?” He suggested, ignoring the question.

The voice wavered, uncertain. “Teacher?”

“Yes, Teacher.” Morgan repeated, liking the sound of it. “It’s what you are, is it not? You instruct students, and spend your last months of life ensuring fragile information would not be lost. Independent of faction or allegiance, caring only about knowledge. A teacher.”

He got the impression the holocron was shaking his head. “Fine, fine. If you must name me, Teacher will do. Now, do you wish to learn?”

“Always.” Morgan confirmed, finding himself meaning it more than he thought he would.

Teacher eagerly moved on. “Good. Now, tell me how you fared enriching your blood. Did you manage to combi-”

A scalpel flashing in the light. Vette, laying still and cold on a table. Sith surrounded her, a strange artefact in their hands. Her eyes snapped open, cold as stone and sickly yellow. Acolytes and droids filled the room, all watching in absolute silence as she climbed off the table mechanically.

The vision slammed into him, passing through his defences as if they didn’t exist. He jerked up hard, sending the table toppling over. Morgan half turned to the door before he heard Teacher shouting.

“-rgan! What happened?” The holocron demanded.

He enforced his body to the limit, not looking back. “Vette. She’s in danger. Med-bay.”

“Take me.” Teacher ordered. Morgan scooped the holocron off the pedestal, Teacher starting to hover the moment he left the confines of the glass.

Teacher kept pace as Morgan dashed through the academy, acolytes jumping out of his way. Overseers tried to scold or even stop him, but he was past them before they could say more than a word.

Teacher was hovering over his right shoulder when he entered the med-bay, the whole room as quiet as the grave.

He saw the med-bay Overseer pause as she was about to insert a device, something that looked to be a five pointed star, into Vette. Morgan froze as he saw her.

Chest cut open, eyes closed and breathing shallow. Three acolytes stood next to the Overseer, who turned around with a sneer on her face.

Wrath filled him. Rage so cold a tiny part of him wondered how he didn’t freeze whole instantly. Anger that bellowed past his shield in torrents, causing near everyone in the room to flinch back.

But he didn’t see red. His mind was not addled with anger. He could not claim madness had taken him. So when his lightsaber cut the Overseer in half, her block a touch too slow, he did so perfectly aware of the possible consequences. He couldn't claim to have lost control, as he broke the pathetic shield of the acolyte standing closest to Vette, shattering his mind. When he strangled the other two, one with the Force and the other with his hand, he was aware of what he was doing. He applied more pressure, two snapping sounds heralding two more dead.

He didn’t care.

The room was still silent as he holstered his lightsaber, four bodies at his feet. It couldn't have taken more than three seconds.

Teacher floated over to Vette. “This is her, I take it?”

Morgan nodded silently, staring at her open, beating, chest. He reigned in the temptation to slaughter the rest of the room, breathing deeply to regain balance.

“That,” Teacher dipped to the device, “was to replace her heart, to eat and supplant it. Clever little device. Would have turned her own body against her, most likely as an assassin or spy.”

Morgan ignored that, and how it made him want to kill the Overseer all over again, to point at a medical droid. “Undo everything done to her.”

“Acknowledged.” The droid responded as it moved close. “The procedure was not completed, nor any foreign elements added to her.”

It went to work as Morgan watched, slowly stitching her up. He didn’t turn around when he felt three relatively powerful entities move into the med-bay, seeing Teacher fly past him to greet them.

“Best not, Overseers.” He said, stopping them at the door. “Unless you would like to end up as the woman on the floor?”

The three halted, probably to argue. Morgan ignored everything they, or Teacher, said. He watched as the droid patched Vette up again, slowly regaining inner balance. Anger bled away to give room for guilt, something he hadn’t felt for a long time.

‘This is my fault.’ He thought. ‘I left her here, believing the word of some acolyte that she would be safe.’

‘My fault she almost died.’

‘My fault she was almost turned into a monster.’

‘My fault.’ His mind repeated.

----------------------------------------

The first thing Vette noticed was the smell of blood. It was a smell she was familiar with, and one not unexpected. Every place of healing was filled with it, sooner or later. The strength of it alarmed her, however, so she fought to see.

When she, with great effort, finally opened her eyes she noticed the second normal occurrence in every place of healing. Bodies. Corpses were common, for no one could cure every disease. Heal every wound. Bodies were not unexpected.

What turned her alarm into confusion was seeing the bodies on the ground, numbering four, and that her boss was looming over them. The fact that one of the bodies, who she vaguely remembered to be the Overseer of the med-bay, was cut in half didn’t help.

‘Holy shit I was drugged.’ She thought as her memory returned. ‘That droid injected me with something, and also why does my stomach hurt?’

“Ah, she is awake.” A cube said, hovering near Morgan’s shoulder.

The owner of that shoulder turned around, looking more dangerous than Vette had ever seen him. Drops of blood were splattered on his face, his face carved from stone. That combined with seeing him stand over four dead sith did strange things to Vette’s stomach.

‘Or that might be the giant scar.’ She mused, just before she snapped her head down again.

“Ok what exactly happened here?” Vette asked when Morgan stayed silent.

The cube answered her. “Well, the former Overseer here,“ the cube pointed to the half woman in the corner, “drugged you, cut you open and attempted to insert an alchemical device into you. The purpose of which was to turn you into an assassin or spy, as far as I’ve been able to determine. I’m sure it will reveal more information with proper study, something I’m looking forward to.”

Her boss finally moved, grabbing the five pointed star thing and shattering it. Smoke escaped, deep and purple, before it dissolved.

The cube sighed. “Or I suppose we could learn nothing, giving in to our base desire of destruction.”

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Vette asked Morgan directly, turning to face him fully.

He bowed his head. “Because it’s my fault. I shouldn't have believed the acolytes when they told us she hadn’t been seen. I should have stayed, or done as before and taken a droid to treat you somewhere safe.”

“It’s my fault.” He repeated. “And I’m sorry.”

He kept his head bowed, not looking at her. She huffed, irritated. “Right. So you're the one that cut me open?”

She talked over him when he tried to respond. “You drugged me, tried to turn me into whatever the cube said?”

He tried to speak again, but Vette motioned to his feet. “And when you discovered what was happening, you did nothing, did you?”

“No,” she said, angry for a reason she couldn't quite name, “You killed four sith and stitched me up. All I paid for it is a new scar, and that’s not so bad for surviving Korriban.”

“Incorrect.” The medical droid interrupted. “The incision was properly performed, no scar tissue will remain.”

She pointed to it, victorious. Vette looked back to see him stare at her, eyes searching.

‘He was worried.’ She realised. ‘How I would react, or about me?’

She looked back to the floor, where one of the bodies was leaking blood from every orifice in his head.

‘That’s the second time he’s killed or crippled someone to protect me.’ Her mind supplied. ‘When’s the last time someone did that for me, exactly?’

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When she looked back Morgan looked like a sith again, stern and hard.

Vette briefly wondered if she had imagined it.

“You’re not leaving my side until we’re off Korriban.” Her boss commanded. “Which happens to be right now. Get your gear, we leave in five.”

She grinned, hopping off the bed. ‘I should be terrified, surrounded by sith and nearly turned into a puppet.’

‘But I’m not.’ She changed into her old gear, holstering her blasters and looking around the room. ‘They sure seem to be.’

The med-bay was filled to the brim, every bed occupied. Yet no one had made a sound, not now nor since she had woken up. She looked back to the bodies, warmth spreading through her.

‘How long has it been, having someone worry about me? Care if I die?’

“I see you are no worse for wear.” The cube spoke. She looked back to see him float over, abandoning her boss to his staring match with the Overseers. “Good. He reacted rather impulsively when he got his vision, but it could have turned out worse.”

She waved at the cube. “Nice to meet ya, cubie.”

He choked. “I should have let you die. I will stand to be called Teacher, not that I’m agreeing with my acolyte’s notion that I need a name, but I will not be called cubie.’

Vette smirked. “Oh fine, but only because I’m in a good mood. Nice to meet ya, Teacher.”

Teacher dipped. “And you.”

He kept hovering beside her as she finished checking her pouches, finding her loot still secure. Her mind finally processed what he had said. “Wait, what do you mean? What vision?”

She got the impression Teacher was raising an eyebrow. “The one Morgan got when he was in the library with me. One that, apparently, warned him of your predicament.”

“That’s something that can happen?” She asked, surprised.

“Indeed.”

“How often?” She probed eagerly. “To who? Just sith, or normal people as well?”

He wobbled. “Not too often. And admittedly only then to Sith Lords or Jedi Masters. That he received one not only as a mere acolyte but about a specific event is rather interesting, wouldn't you say?”

She thought back to when Morgan had explained the Force to her, back in the tomb. “It is everything.” He had said. “Always. It connects every living being, be they biological or not. It is, in a way, the universe itself.”

‘The universe warned him I was in danger?’

“I see from the look on your face that you are starting to grasp what that might mean.” Teacher commented. She looked over to see Morgan had graduated from a staring match into answering increasingly heated questions with one word answers.

She shook her head. “That makes no sense. I met him days ago. Barely know him, really.”

“Do you?” The cube asked. “Do you really know him so little? You know what he will do when pressed, or cornered. You know how he fights, how he treats those above or below him.”

Teacher floated closer. “Extreme stress forges bonds faster than anything, mark my words.”

With that the cube floated away, leaving Vette to her thoughts.

Thoughts that were straying in dangerous directions. ‘Maybe I do know him, a bit. I know he will protect me, should it be needed.’

She looked at the bodies again. ‘Hard to argue he won’t. We make a good team, and with how little he seems to know about day to day life he might need a guide.’

Vette roughly shook her head, seeing Morgan was done with the Overseers. She saw how they kept their weapons close to hand, how they tensed when he walked past them.

‘And it’s safer with the predator than with the prey.’ She forcefully pulled her mind away from the subject, keeping her eyes moving.

They walked through the halls and out of the academy, heat scorching her face as they moved. She looked on as acolytes moved out of the way. How some even bowed. How soldiers straightened as they walked to the port, inches away from saluting.

She said nothing as the pilot greeted them at the door, or when surprise shuttered over his old face as her boss stuck out his hand in greeting.

They were in the air soon after, Vette snacking on some nuts that the younger co-pilot had laid out in front of her boss. She stuck her tongue out at her when she glared, enjoying the fact that the woman couldn't really say anything. Not without disturbing the sith, who was staring out the window.

The shuttle was small, but they were the only people on board. Vette resisted laughing when Morgan’s head snapped both ways, only now noticing that they were the only passengers.

She wondered what he was thinking about, glaring out of that window. What plans or deep wisdom was going on in his head.

‘Wait, didn’t he say he woke up in a shuttle, already on Korriban?’ She suddenly realised. ‘And he didn’t know how credits worked, or how much they were worth.’

She eyed Morgan suspiciously. ‘So distracted he didn’t notice we were alone on a shuttle for twenty, eyes glued to the window since we took off.’

Her eyes widened, a theory forming. ‘He’s from a primitive planet, probably never been to space.’

She fought hard to not say anything, lest she ruin the experience. ‘I could be wrong.’

They cleared the atmosphere, Korriban shrinking behind them. She watched him tense as he looked out into the never ending expanse of darkness, his hand flexing.

‘But probably not.’

It wasn’t long until they passed the station orbiting Korriban. From there the shuttle took them straight into hyperspace, Morgan tensing again. Vette relaxed, enjoying the absolute lack of anything on Morgan’s face as light formed a tunnel around the ship.

“I recommend not looking at it too long.” She commented idly. “Tends to stress the mind.”

Morgan calmly nodded, very clearly showing no signs of panic or unease, and began eating the few nuts she had generously left for him.

She took a small nap as they travelled, the kolto in her system making the seat more comfortable than it should.

Soon enough they docked at the imperial fleet, both pilots seeing them off.

Vette ignored the tingle in her stomach when the younger pilot blushed as she shook Morgan’s hand goodbye, reasoning it was the scar healing.

“Have you been here before?” Morgan asked her as she walked forward with purpose.

“No.” She admitted. “But I’ve been to places like it.”

She led them deep, taking turns and lifts ever down into the bowels of the station. When the streets were unkept and everyone walked with hands close to their blasters, she ducked into a little foodshop.

Vette was so caught up feeling at home again she startled when Morgan sat opposite her. She fought embarrassment when she realised she just led a sith into a cheap hole in the wall.

“I figured you’d like a place that didn’t bow and scrape everytime you breathed.” She covered quickly, the unease in her stomach lessening when he nodded.

“It’s preferable.” Her boss said. “But I didn’t think places like this existed, not here on the imperial fleet.”

She snorted. “Places like this always exist. The rich wish not to look upon the poor, yet someone needs to serve them.”

Morgan laughed softly, staring at a menu they’d been handed by a rusted astromech. He raised an eyebrow. “I assume that by ‘contains meat’ they don’t mean actual real meat, right?”

“No.” Vette deadpanned. “They do not. It’s close enough, probably.”

She looked at him curiously. “Have a lot of meat, where you grew up?”

Morgan sighed. “It doesn’t matter where I grew up, not anymore.”

She raised a hand in surrender, before choosing item thirtyfour for both of them. Vette explained as the astromech rolled off. “Best chance that’s going to taste good, and it’s pretty cheap.”

“You do realise we don’t have any money, right? Unless they take payment in salvage.”

Vette smirked, taking a handful of credits from one of her pouches. “Kindly donated to us from that sleeping Overseer in the med-bay.”

Morgan sighed. “When did you even take those?”

She grinned at him. “I have my ways. Safe to say we have enough to cover the meal, not that whatever cheap security here could stop you.”

“I prefer my first visit to the Imperial Fleet to not involve petty robbery.” He said blandly.

Her reply was interrupted by the arrival of the food, and she dug in with enthusiasm. Even cheap synthesised noodles tasted heavenly compared to ration bars, so the next few minutes both of them silently chewed in delight.

Until a duo of mean looking individuals barged in, looming over their table.

“Don’t you look like a cute couple?” The left one sneered. “Better hand over what you’ve got, or your pretty twi’lek is going to become less pretty.”

Vette nearly choked on her food when the would-be robber flinched back, Morgan’s knife floating an inch from his eye. He tripped, falling backwards. In his haste to stabilise himself he grabbed at his companion, both falling into a tangle of limbs.

“That was pathetic.” Morgan judged. “From the threat to the execution. Get out of my sight, before I remove both of you from the gene pool.”

They scrambled out, leaving Vette to desperately try and swallow, laugh and breathe at the same time.

She looked at Morgan as she calmed down, noticing how he hadn’t even stopped eating. “So did the sith teach you that?”

“Teach me what?”

“How to hide fear. I’ve never really seen you intimidated or scared, and I know how to look for it.”

“Oh, that.” Morgan waved his hand. “No, it’s not because I’m good at hiding emotions, though I am. It’s because I don’t really feel it.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “You don’t get scared? How’s that even possible?”

Morgan put his food down, thinking. “It was about two months in, I think, when the Overseer had me and some others stay behind after morning training. This was some ten months ago, mind you, long before we met.”

“We showed hesitation, you see. Fear.” He knocked on the table, the sound echoing in the silent shop. ”And proper sith do not fear. They do not hesitate because of pain.” He shrugged. “So she made us experience true pain, something deeper than flesh, with what she called an interesting variation of sith lightning.”

Vette saw his eyes go distant, feeling her own heartbeat skyrocket. “For about three weeks she did that, until something had to give. For others it was their mind. You could see it, when the spark in their eyes died. The lights are on, but no one’s home, as they say. No emotions or desire, no rage or fear. Just, broken.”

She felt her stomach contract, fearing what he would say next. “I did too, but differently. I broke as she had intended. Accepted that I was dead, and that deadmen fear no pain.”

He shrugged again, Vette’s heart bleeding sympathy. “Haven’t feared for my safety since, and found pain means less than nothing to me.”

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He tilted his head, and for the first time Vette thought he looked broken. “I don’t think about it much, truthfully.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so silence reigned until she couldn't stand it.

“I understand.” She blurted, cursing herself immediately afterward.

‘Great fucking job, how could you possibly understand that?’

Instead of getting upset or angry, as she had feared, he looked at her.

Really looked at her, eyes piercing so deeply she couldn't look away even if she wanted to.

He nodded slowly, seriously, and then the moment was gone. He picked up his food, scanning the shitty little cantina lazily.

Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal, even as she still felt awful for him. ‘That explains a lot about you. And here’s to thinking I couldn't possibly hate the sith more.'

They finished soon after, Vette paying with her scavenged credits, and she led them towards what passed for a market. Finding a place to bargain and trade was always easy, seeing as people were always either going to or leaving them.

Morgan stopped as they reached it, looking it over from their vantagepoint. “Well then, let’s finish up and you can be on your way.”

Vette couldn't tell if he was sad about that, not from just his voice, but she was starting to have doubts.

“I’ve been thinking.” She began, Morgan turning to look at her. “Maybe it wouldn't be the worst idea if I stuck around.”

Morgan said nothing, Vette rushing out the words. She didn’t notice how his eyes widened in surprise. “You know, I’d get to lie, steal and plunder, legally and for profit. I’ve got a big bad sith to protect me and seeing more of the galaxy is always fun.”

She fell silent when he raised his hand, wondering why she was so jittery. “I would be happy to have you.” Morgan said slowly. “But I want you to have an informed choice.”

He took a breath, and Vette suddenly wondered if he was as irrationally nervous as she was.

“Everyone has this idea about the sith and what they do, but it all boils down to death. We live it, deal in it. It’s our trade and profession, and we’re generally very good at it.”

“The code tells us to follow passion, and to an extent we do. But our passion is so often ambition, and the Dark revels in betrayal. In war and misery.”

He looked at her. “That would be the job, Vette. We would be killing those that deserve it, and those that don’t. The wicked and the innocent. For good reasons or no reason at all. We kill those Darth Baras commands me to, and that won't change for a long while.”

She swallowed a shitty joke, forcing herself to listen. “And when I kill, I feel nothing. No guilt or remorse, no sleepless nights. I don’t know if the Overseer made me this way, that she broke something that I won’t ever get back, or that I was always like this.”

“I’m not saying this to drive you away,” he said with a wince, “but choosing to stay might come with strings I have no power over. Not now, and maybe not for a long time.”

Vette smiled sadly when he finished, thinking back to someone long gone. “Someone I knew as a child told me to always reward honesty with honesty, and I try to live by that.”

“So here goes.” She took a deep breath. ”People don’t really care what happens to me. Not really. They would be sad, some of them, but for most life would go on. A few would help me, maybe, if the price wasn’t too high. Most wouldn't.”

She forced a grin. “And then you save my life twice in as many days, no thought to the consequences. Killed those all but untouchable because they hurt me. Butchered those that tried to kill me.”

“Isn’t that sad? That in two days you risked more for me than anyone I can remember.”

She shook her head, lekku bouncing. “I’m suspicious of kindness, you know that? So when you took the collar off I expected to pay for it, somehow. When you promised to set me free, I was so sure it was a lie. Yet here we are. You were going to let me go, weren’t you?”

He nodded, she scowled. “A sith showed me more kindness in two days than most have in a lifetime. So maybe you don’t care about killing. Don’t care all that much myself.”

Vette sighed, forcing herself past the nerves. “We could debate all day about morality and risk. I want to stay, and damn to the consequences. How about you?”

He smiled, and for once she saw it reach his eyes. “As I said, I would be happy to have you.”

She stuck out her hand, a grin on her face. Morgan shook it firmly. “Partners?”

“Partners.” She echoed. Then, because her mouth and brain weren’t properly connected. “Me and my buddy the sith. Nobody’s going to pick on me at school.”

Vette saw him raise an eyebrow. She waved, turning away to hide her blush. “Kindly ignore that last comment.”

“So,” she forged on bravely, “what do you want to spend those credits on?”

“Armour.” He said firmly. “Preferably something that doesn’t scream sith.”

She walked to a merchant, putting her hand in a pouch and taking out a circuit. “Armour it is. But first, offloading all that shiny loot.”

----------------------------------------

Morgan stayed silent as Vette and a rodian haggled rapidly, gesturing wildly to the armour on display.

The suit was matte black, with only streaks of grey to prevent the whole thing from being one colour. No helmet or facemask was provided, which was a shame. Other than the left pauldron being slightly bigger, the whole thing was uninteresting to look at. Just as he liked it.

‘As tempting as it is to walk into the Dark Citadel wearing bright pink, best if we stay somewhat sith like.’ He thought, listening as Vette argued the price lower and lower.

“Fine,” the rodian almost shouted, throwing his hand up, “but not a credit lower than seven thousand. You’re already starving my children at that price.”

They shook on it, Morgan taking it to change in an alley nearby. The suit fit well, being made for his body-type.

Vette whistled as he walked out, nodding to herself. “Intimidating, that’s good. Not too sithy either, but close enough they won’t complain.”

Morgan looked at her, her own armour already bought and paid for an hour ago. Mostly brown and green, with less plating than his own. Plenty of pockets and pouches were strewn across, her two blasters hanging off her hips.

“Won’t stop a lightsaber,” Morgan agreed, “but should stop the stray bolt from tearing my limbs off.”

“Unlike mine, you mean?” Vette smirked. “I prefer mobility.”

“As you’ve stated before.” Morgan rolled his eyes, not wishing to get back into that argument. He had tried to get her to buy something more protective. Vette had disagreed. Loudly.

Neither suit had helmets, something they would have to rectify before going into the field, but for now they were as protected as they could be.

They bickered quietly about the benefits of heavy and light plating as they made their way to the transport that would take them to Dromund Kaas. Morgan ignored the duros officer trying to get his attention.

This one was a regular transport, and while they got some looks no one recognized him as sith. ‘Or if they do, they are wise enough to stay silent. Thank god I’m not wearing red anymore, I’ve seen enough of that for a lifetime.’

The wait was short, having picked the first available flight, and before long the strange feeling of hyperspace came over him. He patted the pouch with Teacher in it, who had gone silent a while ago to ‘prepare his training’.

‘No windows this time.’ He thought. ‘Good. Rather not watch reality blend like a smoothie again.’

Vette hissed when someone behind them kicked her chair, mumbling something about spacing children.

‘Vette’s cute when she’s angry.’ His mind conjured.

Morgan closed his eyes, sinking into meditation. ‘Let’s take care of that right now. I’m not ruining this partnership with an actual crush. I’m not a damned teenager, for christ sake.’

He pressed it down, not examining the emotion too closely. He frowned when it bounced back, slowly, when he stopped pressing.

‘That’s a fun new daily chore.’ He snarked internally.

He came out of mediation, Vette looking at him curiously.

A flare of affection came, but it felt less crushy than before. ‘Good enough. Unless either of you want to take it?’

Neither the Light nor Dark responded, so he looked to the front of the shuttle. A screen displayed their arrival time, Morgan closing his eyes for a quick nap.

‘Next stop, Dromund Kaas. I’m sure it will go swimmingly. No invasions, rebellions or cursed temples to be seen, no sir.’

He swallowed a snort. ‘Yea right.’

His mind went back to Vette, unbidden. ‘But at least I’m not alone this time.’