“You crushed Alderaan under your boot, apprentice. I am incredibly impressed; the planet will feel the sting for years to come.”

Morgan bowed his head in silent thanks, very carefully limiting his emotions. There was technically a third shield, a brother to the soul and mind, for such things. It was mostly combined with the defences for the soul, since their function held much in common, but not technically the same. He had not practised the latter much, seeing as the second mostly sufficed, but it seemed enough to hide his disbelief.

Not disbelief, perhaps. Doubt. Baras sounded sincere, probably even pleased the mission was near its completion, but it was no more than that. Any uncertainty he’d felt about the man keeping him around after Karr evaporated. “I am your humble servant, Master.”

“Nomen Karr’s padawan can no longer hide in anonymity. I am pleased.” Again there was no anger, nothing he could detect that the man suspected Morgan was lying through his teeth. But it was there, oh yes. “By rooting out Jaesa Willsaam’s parents you have reached across the galaxy to strike a sharp blow at our enemies. Every lead followed to the end. Every planet ravaged. Our adversary is growing antsy, I can feel it. Know it, in fact. I have received a transmission from Nomen Karr, calling me out. Challenging me to face him to the death. Our enemy has become desperate.”

“So soon? I only just completed the mission on Alderaan.”

Amusement flowed out of the man, and this time Morgan was unsure if it was genuine or not. “Perhaps he expected his agents to fail as they have before. You are rather effective, apprentice.”

“Effective enough to face him in your stead?” He made it a question. It wasn’t. He knew, would have known even without remembering. Baras was not a man fond of doing tasks he deemed beneath himself.

“You have read my mind. Karr fails to understand I have outgrown our personal dispute. He expects me to jump at the chance of strangling him, but will be unprepared for you. The duel is to happen on Nal Hutta, at the site of his betrayal so long ago. A fitting place for this to end.”

And should Morgan die, no great loss. He had little doubt there were contingencies in place, none of which ended with him as a problem. Great.

“Defeat him, but do not kill him. His torment will reach out to his padawan, he will be the bait that brings her to you. Subdue the master, and the pupil will come to save him. I have foreseen it.”

The call ended with a flick of his wrist, Morgan staring at the dead connection a while longer. If Baras moved on him directly after Karr’s death, it would be over. A sufficiently strong sith could kill him without too much issue, he had little doubt Baras had a few of those, and not going after the master wasn’t an option either. Not if he wanted his plan to have any semblance of hope. So he’d have to defeat Karr, turn Jaesa, hope Baras’s plan didn’t immediately activate and make sure he had a few months after that.

With Jaesa that should be doable, assuming she hadn’t abandoned her search for his spies, and with her any assassin would be hard pressed to get close.

He left the room to find everyone already assembled, somewhat pressed together in the still damaged hallways. Engineering crews had the right of way, especially now, and they had no issue cursing at people if they moved too slowly. Even him, once, though the man had apologised after. “Sir. Everyone is ready and the ship is prepared. Our pilot wishes to inform you she is honoured to be of service.”

“Good work, lieutenant.” Jillins straightened further, made impressive by the alright rigid position of his back, and Morgan withheld an eye roll. Somehow he doubted Jenna was feeling all that pleased. “Our landing on Nal Hutta is arranged?”

“Lord Baras sent the information when he first contacted us, sir. Out of the way and close to our destination.”

“Perfect. And the actual route we’re taking?”

Jillins grinned. “Lady Vette assured us we won’t be noticed, though I didn’t know she possessed influence in hutt space. Nor how she did it so quickly. She also wished for me to tell you to be careful, and that she is preparing things should the mission go sideways. ‘Just in case’, she insisted. She was very clear on that.”

“I can barely keep up myself, lieutenant, and I appreciate the update. The decoy?”

“In place by the time we arrive. The man is well paid and will do as instructed, but don’t assume he will hold up under questioning.”

“Never do. Should buy us a few minutes, hopefully, if Baras does plan to get rid of us prematurely. Let’s go.”

They picked up Alyssa and Inara on the way, armoured and serious looking, and the shuttle itself was boarded without issue. It would be a while before they’d arrive, the shuttle wasn’t that spacious, so Morgan led both of them to the back. Jenna took off with a last check to the captain, Kala wishing them good fortune, and his apprentices joined him on the floor.

Meditation served many purposes, as he’d been taught, from increasing one's Force connection to steadying the mind. Soft Voice had been a good teacher, patient but demanding excellence, and he tried to emulate that here. Teaching these two fleshcrafting was an ongoing project, something that was going to take months rather than weeks, so taking advantage of moments like these was only logical.

They continued their control exercises without complaint, working to stop him from disassembling them piecemeal, and he split his attention in two. Then he went a step further and rotated an old coin he’d found, trying to tilt it left to right without spinning. Fine control with telekinesis wasn’t something many focused on, preferring powerful but crude shoves and such, but he rather liked it. It helped his knives, being able to control them more precisely, and it was plain useful outside of combat.

Time slipped by as they practised, Morgan lost in peace as he meditated on something greater. He did eventually let his two charges go, to replenish their reserves and talk over his teaching, but he stayed.

This would be the turning point, he felt. The act of no return. Recruiting Jaesa wouldn't be ignored by Baras, not while she was such a threat to his power, and he himself was growing too quickly. Too focused. He probably suspected Morgan had another master, either from his rivals or not, but the man seemed strangely ignorant about Teacher.

His existence was closely guarded, yes, but not that closely. A few in the Enosis knew, along with half a dozen on his ship, and that was too many people to keep a secret. Might be they managed it, against all odds, but it seemed more reasonable to think Teacher added protections to his holocron. Against divination and Force sight, because he himself sure never could get a look inside.

He could ask, Teacher would probably tell him, but it was something of a moot point. Either Baras knew and never mentioned it, or didn’t and it was a non-issue. To get to Teacher someone had to break into the heart of his powerbase anyway, and at that point there were more pressing issues.

Clearing Nal Hutta space, as it turned out, went smoothly. They were still using Baras’s credentials for that, Vette didn’t have that much pull, but afterwards they veered off course. Made for a landing six clicks west, as far as they could get from their supposed destination. Another shuttle, one very close in make to their own, would be landing where they were supposed to.

Jillins organised his men as Morgan resisted the urge to sweep out his senses, looking over the terrain. An industrial nightmare of waste and chemicals, his helmet already complaining about having to filter it all out. Not that it would do too much, even without fleshcrafting those using the Force where hardier than most, but he’d rather not breathe it all the same.

He snapped his head to Inara as he felt her presence in the Force swell, though she cut it out quickly. Just linking up with Alyssa, he realised, and not broadcasting their position to anyone with good perception. Like Nomen Karr, who would no doubt be watching for it. Morgan didn’t think he could sneak up to the man, stealth or not the jedi had several decades on him, but neither would he like to make it that easy.

“The men are ready, sir.”

“Very good.” Morgan looked them over, sixteen Chosen and two sith ready to fight and die on his command. He ruthlessly squashed the urge to send them all away and do this himself. “Our target is Nomen Karr, a jedi Master and seasoned veteran. His achievements are many, though he is most famous for being one of the very few to infiltrate Korriban. He managed to rise to the rank of sith Lord before fleeing, dealing a near crippling blow to my master. I tell you this not to scare or intimidate you, but so that you understand what I’m about to tell you.”

He took a moment, mentally trying to impress the importance of what he was saying. “You are not to fight him. You are not to help me fight him. You are not, under any circumstance, to do anything but run if he approaches. You have fought sith and jedi before, won against most, and he will kill you anyway. Like snapping his fingers, you will fall. You will not tire him, or wound him, and your death will not serve a greater purpose. You are here to secure the perimeter and oppose anyone trying to interfere, nothing more. This goes for both sith and Chosen, and in case I was in any way unclear, you are not to fight him.”

Morgan swept his sight over them, using as little power as he could to gauge their reactions. Displeasure and irritation, even a rebellious urge or two, but they settled after a moment. Personal feelings buried under discipline, and he nodded.

“Good. If Jaesa Willsaam approaches you are to let her through. If she attacks you you are to defend yourself but not kill her.” He held up a communicator, displaying the image lifted from her transmission. “Her level of ability is unknown and considered to be substantial. Now, does anyone here think there is a reason to disregard these orders? That was a trick question, because there are none. If I die, you are to run. If I am captured and Noman Karr isn’t greeting the reaper himself, you are to run. We move in two.”

One last look and he turned, taking a mental breath. For all that Force stealth had come in extraordinarily useful, and would prove more useful still, he and Teacher hadn’t meant it to avoid jedi. To confuse soldiers or accidently sneak up on his own men. No, he’d been training to avoid Baras.

To close down the tenuous bond between master and apprentice, which would let the man locate him from halfway across the galaxy. Not precisely, it didn’t hand over a neat list of coordinates, but close enough. A planet or sector, if he was far enough away, and within a few miles if they inhabited the same planet. Something which the Darth could follow until they were face to face, and Morgan would rather not.

So he did the one thing he’d always been very careful to avoid, and clamped down on the thread. Took the connection between them and shrouded it in fog, blurring the line keeping them together. Teacher had insisted that he’d find several mental frameworks for it, claiming the bond would become clearer if he did, and Morgan was thankful for that now.

Because doing something without practice, and then having to achieve success on the first try, was a lot more difficult than he thought. It seemed to pulse in agitation, fighting against his control, and after a few seconds Morgan gave up. It would have been better to keep it intact but useless, Teacher had seemed nearly gleeful about what they could do with it, but it didn’t seem feasible.

Morgan snipped it, interposing a barrier of nothing between the ends. It would cause the connection to degrade soon enough, rather than reconnect in moments, and a tension eased. A pressure long since having faded to the background, glaring for its absence. He exhaled, a smile tugging at his lips.

Despite the risks, despite the consequences, it had been worth it for that alone.

After that they were on the move, coming ever closer to Karr’s hideout. An abandoned refinery, Baras’s information packet told him, and unoccupied for years. Still structurally stable, mostly, but the possibility of harmful chemicals in the air was significant. A lovely place for a hideout, though admittedly one that was left well enough alone by everyone else.

His men spread out as they arrived at the facility, three quarters of his soldiers moving to secure the space. He’d need hundreds to do it properly, of course, but it wasn’t like he wanted to occupy the thing. Having people lie in hiding near the entrances was more than good enough, an early warning system against the uninvited.

Karr was found deeper inside, a spacious but empty room with him at its centre. “I should have known Baras couldn't be trusted. As a man of my word I’m here, alone.”

Morgan had seen pictures of Karr, both as a jedi and sith Lord, and it didn’t do reality justice. The man seemed real, more so than anything else in the room, and his eyes pierce flesh as easily as air. Simple but sturdy robes completed the frame of a jedi following his mission above all else, abandoning near everything so as to leave no weaknesses.

“You trusted Baras?” He asked, amused despite himself. Karr had sounded actually disappointed. “The megalomaniac sith with a habit of torturing those that displease him?”

Karr shook his head. “Your master shows himself a coward, sending you in his stead.”

“Yup.”

His easy agreement seemed to displease the man, Morgan batting away a few simple probes. Returning the favour showed him what he expected, shields strong enough he had little hope of breaking them. Karr grunted. “Your crusade has affected me, sith. I’m not blind to that. But I’ve wandered the line between the Dark and the Light before. I walked among your master and the sith. My connection to the Light survived them, and it shall survive you.”

“No it won’t.” Morgan held up his hand. “I mean no offence, I really don’t, but if you think allowing the Dark in your heart and expecting it to behave has ever worked out for anyone, you’re delusional. It is a hungry beast ever eager for more, always waiting and observing and hoping. Hoping for that littlest mistake. Can’t you feel it?”

He indicated the room with his head, retracting his own presence to give the man an uncontested look. “How it’s watching us even now? It is not here for me, I can tell that much. No, Master jedi. It's here for you.”

“I am in charge of the Dark, not the other way around.”

Morgan barked out a laugh. “Then you are a fool. How long did you walk on Korriban, Karr? Years? Months? We both know it's closer to the latter. Did you ever delve deep into the tombs, see the ancient texts and desperate experiments for yourself? The warnings written in blood, begging all who read them to stay away? To run and hide and never return to this cursed planet? How well do you understand, do you think, the power it holds?”

Karr seemed actually disturbed, shaking his head. “It is a terrible beast, I know this. But it is not all powerful. It is not all consuming. It can be used for good, if never becoming so itself.”

“You are a dabbler grasping at dogma.” Morgan accused, having to do very little to fake his irritation. “A priest begging God for salvation. That, that alone, means you have not understood the Dark at all.”

The jedi snapped his lightsaber to hand, a fierce look on his face. Morgan tasted, however briefly, fear. “I have no choice but to put an end to you. Then all will become calm again.”

“Better.” He praised, tone mocking. “Kill anything and everything that disagrees, lest you run the risk of having your opinion changed. How very sith of you.”

Inara and Alyssa backed well away, as agreed, and turned to guard the room. Karr didn’t seem inclined to drag them into the fight, Morgan didn’t want them there in the first place, and any worry he might have had about the jedi using them as hostages disappeared as the man tried to kill him.

Quite literally. No sounding out his range or technique, seeing as they’d never fought before, or dancing around each other for a while. Straight for a lethal strike, aiming to sever neck from body. Maybe playing into the man’s expectation of the Dark had some unintended consequences.

Not that he’d lied, really, but he himself didn’t believe in it. That was the true power of the Dark, ironically. The more it was feared the more the Force would twist to make it reality.

Karr kicked him in the stomach, slipping past his defences with a move not even Force users should have been flexible enough for, and Morgan grimaced. Right, bad idea to get even the slightest bit distracted. The jedi twisted as he swiped, Morgan forced to block, and found his strength matched.

Well, good thing he never expected to win honourably. He abandoned attack to spend his focus elsewhere, probing the man’s mental shields and finding them degraded. Not at first glance, or even the second, but he was clearly in a bad mental state. Minute flaws, those that shouldn't exist at his level of skill, and he was more than happy to take advantage. Had counted on it, in fact.

The jedi was going to fall, sooner or later, and he would prefer the former. Let the man reap the poisoned gift of power it would bring, having it wreak havoc on his control and skill would be more than worth it. He would, however, have to survive until then. Seeing as he already had to choose between lesser evils instead of dodging entirely, he didn’t have the time.

He jumped, taking that split second where Karr centred his balance, and used a combination of lightsaber and telekinesis to go through the ceiling. The jedi followed, having to expend twice the power to deflect the slab of steel Morgan threw at his head, and Morgan made his first attempt.

A failure, but not a bad one. He scrambled back as he tried again, managing to exploit an infinitesimally small crack and widen it to something usable. Then he started whispering to the man, because why not add some background horror to the fight?

Nothing distracting, of course, that would be noticed in a moment. Nothing so crude as audible voices either, going for a background of murmurs instead. Too soft to really hear, but there.

Karr didn’t seem to notice at first, going about his business of rapidly assimilating Morgan's fighting style and scoring ever more wounds, until Morgan managed to hide. Hidden away behind some machine he didn’t know the purpose of, muting his presence in the Force as much as he could.

It took the jedi a second or two to hone his own detection before he found him, but that was enough. Karr’s eyes narrowed slightly in stress, his attack switching to something more brutal. Aiming to kill with every stroke, satisfied with how much he’d learned. The man seemed to have forgotten about Morgan's knives.

They shot out and behind, lazily circling them both as Karr aborted his attack. Another few moments where he couldn't quite ignore the whispers, and his hesitation was taken as weakness. The Dark grinned in glee, Morgan himself tightening his shields.

Just because he didn’t believe in it, that it was just Karr’s expectation that was giving it form, he still had no intention of letting it anywhere close. Not that it would, really. It was far too keen on the jedi. The man expected it to be sly, to tempt him and offer him power, so it did.

Not all at once, of course. Karr wasn’t so far gone. But a little was all it took to start, and Morgan was more than happy to take the time and heal his wounds. A rather nasty burn on his thigh, armour near slag, and another on his shoulder. Flesh knitted itself back together without issue, though the warped metal wouldn't do much to slow down any strikes in the future.

Good thing his chest piece was made of Phrik, having turned two crippling strikes aside already.

And still, with Karr playing on his worst day and Morgan having stacked nearly every advantage he could, still he was only just staying alive. To say nothing of winning, the man utterly uncaring about the few counter attacks he made. They were either turned aside with an ease that reminded him of Korriban, those first few weeks where Soft Voice taught him the blade, or evaded entirely.

If it wasn’t for that man’s mental instability, and his own ability to worsen it, that would be that. Running wasn’t an option when the man could chase him down, Alyssa and Inara wouldn't even slow the man and his Chosen could do little against the reflexes displayed.

Morgan swallowed a grin, recognizing that, perhaps, Korriban had done more to change him than he would like to admit. Because, as he narrowly turned a killing blow into a lesser wound, he revelled in it. The fight and uncertainty, battling someone that didn’t crumble and die the moment he got serious. Arrogant, perhaps, and he would have to be careful about it, but it was fun. Enjoyable to test his own strength, the consequences of a real battle forcing his skill ever higher. How his mind focused to a razor’s edge, endlessly analysing and refining his own style.

His knives keened for flesh as he managed to disengage and create distance, kicking open a locked door and flinging the resulting scrap at Karr’s face. The jedi responded with a grab of his own, Morgan scrambled to unravel it before it could crumple his shield like paper, and tanked the resulting hit. Either Karr overestimated his reserves or didn’t have that much to spare himself, because he didn’t try that again.

With a scant second of reprieve he redoubled his mental assault, enjoying the way Karr’s face tightened. ‘That’s right, master jedi. Take that power. Wasn’t he being annoying, slipping through your fingers again and again. A little more raw strength would solve that, surely. Yes, you can always rededicate yourself to the Light afterwards, because isn’t it the great cleanser? The Dark wouldn't stand a chance, perish the thought.’

Karr came at him with a little more speed, a little more aggression, and his style suffered for it. Morgan scored his first drop of blood, his knife slicing just past the neck, and kicked off from the wall. Nearly losing his foot in the process, mind, but sliced tendons are healed easily enough.

“Womp rat bastard.” Karr cursed, voice slipping into anger. “Stand still.”

“Are you name calling? Have some dignity.”

Morgan ducked as the man threw a cooling unit at him, rolling to avoid the second. Waste of power, that. The jedi hissed before stopping himself, face reassembling into something more reserved. “Could you please stand still?”

“No, but thank you for being polite.” Morgan approved. “Just because you’re falling to the Dark and we’re trying to kill each other doesn’t mean we have to become uncivilised.”

To his surprise, and private amusement, the needling worked. Karr jumped in a reckless charge, having to abort it halfway when Morgan interposed his knives. The man landed hard, glaring.

Maybe he’d hit a nerve, or something, because it was followed by an overwhelming wave of power. Far more than Morgan could ever shield against, rolling towards him like a tsunami. He pulled it apart at the seams, power bleeding away like crazy, and weathered the surviving attack just fine.

Karr seemed to realise that too, his presence becoming noticeably more controlled, but even so it had degraded. And Morgan didn’t plan to give him the time needed to pull himself together entirely, slowly but surely building up the whispers. Temptation and offers and praise for the man’s restraint. For his dedication to the Light. He was strong, both in mind and the Force. What could it hurt, to do as he had before? His connection to the Light had survived Korriban, hadn’t it? This would be child's play.

Morgan winced as a lightsaber cut most of his hand off, dangling off flesh more than bone. Not his fighting hand, thankfully, but all the same that fucking hurt. He answered by snapping out his foot, very nearly managing to break Karr’s shin as the man flowed to the side.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

The fight turned desperate after that. More defensive. He could only spare his hand enough attention to ensure it didn’t fall off completely, stemming the blood and picking out the bits of molten metal. Then it was back to surviving against a thoroughly enraged jedi Master, trying not to lose any limbs.

His mood dimmed as it became clear Karr was losing control slower than he himself was losing the fight, turning to disengage more than fight back. Buying time was all that mattered, here. Which was when his two apprentices intervened.

Not physically, they weren’t stupid even if they did disobey his orders, but by distracting him. One of their combined Force pushes, crude but powerful. Karr dismissed it before it managed to reach halfway, plucking the core of the technique apart and letting the rest dissipate, but it cost the man half a second.

Then they did it again, ten moves later. Pulling at the man’s foot from a safe distance, Karr never even attempted to go after them for it. It would have been nice to punish that sort of foolishness, now that he knew the man’s fighting style, but nothing for it. Morgan took the opportunity to fully reattach his hand, shaking it dramatically in Karr’s direction.

That was the last straw, Morgan hastily retreating out of the man’s mind as he purposefully drew in the Dark. It surged, eyes wide as power kept pouring in past his own want. This. This was why Master jedi falling to the Dark was such a problem for the order. They already had strong connections to the Force, fully believing the Dark was an easy path to power that must be resisted. When they didn’t, that happened.

Morgan grimaced, taking a breath. Now for the dangerous part.

With the Dark rampant Karr’s fine control degraded to near abysmal levels, making it almost easy to slip inside the man’s mind again. Cautiously, of course, and with every intention to retreat if the surge of power had done something unexpected, but no. And he wasn’t going for subtlety this time, either. A scream of pain and horror cut deep and wide, making the man flinch back and lash out in response. Morgan jumped to avoid the attack, a wave of Force rather than anything targeted at him specifically, and swallowed as it went straight through one wall and then a second.

Better not get hit, just in case. He pulled up even higher with a boost from telekinesis, the jedi jumping to catch up. And nearly succeeding, managing with physical prowess what Morgan had to do with the Force. A scream of horror and pain distracted the man, however, and he failed to capitalise on his advantage. Then he shook his head, focussing on Morgan alone as shields reformed around his mind.

Right. That probably wouldn't work a second time. The distraction, that was, not the mental influence. Karr’s shields were impressive things of strength and fear, lashing and gnawing at everything coming close. Morgan broke it open with a small surge of effort, leveraging one of the many small cracks and worming inside again. No way was he giving that up, not when it was his largest advantage.

The man knew he was doing that now, of course, but it didn’t matter. Shields had always been about power and control, one compensating for the other. Having both was something Karr had been luxuriating in for years now, he assumed, and being stripped of one brought him off balance.

So he attacked again, using up a fair amount of reserves and slicing deep. Karr didn’t scream, that time, but did lash out again. And was smart about it, which wasn’t good at all. Two waves, one hidden behind the other. A distraction and attack, woven together in a way Morgan hadn’t seen before.

As such he only realised it at the last moment. Dodging the first was easy enough, it glared like the sun to his perception, and he scrambled to pull apart the second. Too little, too late.

It swept him up like actual waves might, battering his shields to nothing and slamming him into the wall. Even his reinforcement had been impacted, lessened and weakened, and it was a testament to his fleshcrafting his spine didn’t snap. It would have, he was sure of that.

Not devoting the rest of his power to shielding had been the right call. He rebuilt his defences, using the scant few seconds where Karr was muttering to himself, and stood.

“How.” The jedi demanded, eyes wild. “How do you make it stop?”

“Pardon?”

“The whispers. How do I make it stop?!”

Morgan shrugged, more than happy to keep talking. Spines were annoying to fix at the best of times, and his had gotten nice and bruised. A rush job still, but slightly less so. “Oh, that. Yea, you don’t. Welcome to the Proper Dark, Karr. Was the power-up worth it?”

“Shut up!” The man tried to do something, god knows what, and failed to achieve much of anything. “How? Tell me how!”

“You can’t. I told you, jedi. You don’t understand the Dark. The true Dark. Either you surrender yourself to it, soon followed by madness and a swift death, or you live like this. Try and regain the Light, if it’ll even have you as you are. I heard it can be somewhat judgemental.”

“You did this. You did this to me!”

That. That was probably true, actually. Morgan shrugged again, refusing to feel guilty. He might have primed the man, fed his worst fears, but he himself opened the floodgates. Accepted power without caring about the cost. He just altered the perceived notion of what that might look like, which manifested itself as whispering.

Karr was done talking, though, and jumped at him. And not aborted it, this time, accepting two knives burrowing into his flesh for a chance to kill him. Morgan glided to the side, refusing to meet the man, and pushed himself further still as another wave of Force came.

Morgan pulled apart the hidden attack before it could land, now that he’d seen the trick, and did something new. He pressed down on the visual cortex of the brain, curious about what it would do. More pain would just make the man angrier anyway.

That, as it turned out, made people go blind. Go figure. Karr didn’t seem all that hindered by it, truthfully, though it took him slightly longer to locate him when Morgan hid. Which he did, often and without shame. Time like that was useful for all sorts of things, such as healing whatever injury his escape would have cost and crafting another mental assault.

And then, taking him off-guard, Jaesa arrived. His helmet had long since been sacrificed, so no one had notified him, and she was good at muting her presence. She was also, he found, an idiot.

“What the hell are you doing, barging in here?” He hissed, making her pause. Karr had frozen when she arrived, looking between her and the ceiling. “What, you thought my people were hanging back because this shit is risk free and Karr is mentally stable?”

“Ignore that order, padawan. This is good. Yes, this will do nicely.”

Morgan shook his head. “Nothing ever good has followed that kind of talk.”

“Silence. I will deal with you later. Padawan, come here.”

Jaesa, in a stunning display of self-preservation, didn’t. Neither did she come running to him, which was fair, but at least she wasn’t stupid. “Come here. Come here now.”

“What have you done to him, sith?” Jaesa asked, her voice hard. It didn’t quite hide her confusion, or hurt. “Why does he feel like that?”

“Like what? Pardon, not everyone can casually see into the very depths of someone’s soul.”

She took a moment, taking a step back as Karr took it forward. He halted, scratching at his chin while muttering to himself. “Like tar and screams, grief turned to madness. Like the smile of a blade, hungry for blood and chaos. He feels like you, sith.”

“He does?” Morgan blinked, confused. “Really?”

“I need not feel you to know what you are.”

He stared at her, unimpressed. “Right. Go take a look, just to be sure. I won’t mind.”

“Enough of this.” Karr ordered, seemingly done consulting the voices in his head. “Jaesa is mine, sith. Mine to shape and command, mine to use and mine to share. You will die, Baras will be exposed and I’ll be the Hero of Tython. That is how it will be.”

He blurred and attacked so quickly Morgan was only halfway done dodging, the lightsaber cutting through his thigh and staying there. Pain spread through his body like daggers in his blood, one hand shoving againsts Karr’s shoulder and doing little more than exposing flesh.

The jedi laughed, deactivating his lightsaber and turning back to his padawan. “See how they fall, Jaesa? That is what it means to be sith, arrogant to the end.”

“Funny you should mention arrogance.” Karr froze in place, eyes confused as Morgan's shove turned to an iron grip. “And I should probably mention another little factoid about the Dark. It doesn’t like those who lose.”

The Force was already fleeing from the jedi, trickle turning into a flood. It made locking down the man’s nervous system far easier, Morgan gaining ground with every passing moment. It took another two before Karr realised what had happened, moving to shape what Force he had left, and Morgan put him to sleep.

Then he took a step backwards, careful to not put any weight on his bad leg. That would take some time to heal, seeing as his reserves were coming up on empty. Still, the plan had worked out in the end. He owed Teacher thanks. He’d been very right about fallen jedi getting drunk on power.

“Is he dead?”

Jaesa didn’t seem to want to know the answer to that, but he spoke anyway. “No. Just sleeping. Rather deeply, I will admit, and he won’t wake naturally, but he’s alive. Sorry, you were about to tell me about myself.”

Alyssa and Inara joined them as Jaesa stared at her master’s body, bowing to him before giving them space. It took Jaesa another few seconds before she spoke, sounding lost.

“Fire. Growing and condensing, getting hotter with every passing day, but shielding those it cares about. Providing warmth and light, shelter and safety. I. What is happening?”

Morgan tilted his head. “Interesting. Is your power always so abstract? Not that I’m saying you’re wrong, necessarily, but I’ve never thought about myself like that.”

“What people think and are will always be different.” She dismissed. “Answer my question, sith.”

“My name is Morgan, and I’ll answer yours if you’ll answer mine. Do you love him, your master? Do you care for him, as a friend or father? Does he for you, as his daughter or padawan?”

“He is the one that cared for me after my parents stopped. Sheltered me, trained me. Gave me purpose.”

“That isn’t what I asked, is it? You can know, more so than anyone. Don’t tell me you’ve never looked, I won’t believe that for a second.”

Her answer never came, Alyssa and Inara joining his side again. The latter leaned close, whispering in his ear. “The guards report two unknown sith entering the facility. Three of our men died when they asked for their business. Gammares, Eve and Pete.”

Morgan nodded, feeling his face shift into a mask. Jaesa wasn’t fooled, clearly, as her own guard tightened. He didn’t really care, not right that second. Three of his men dead for asking a question, people who’d sworn him their lives and trusted him to lead them. Dead, for nothing.

The two sith that entered the room, not a minute later, could best be described as typical. Dark robes, light but sturdy armour underneath, and faces obscured by hoods. Blood splatterings could be seen on the left man, covering his chest and arm, and red eyes gleaming from under the hoods completed the picture.

“The Fleshcrafter Lord. How presumptuous, to name yourself that before ever achieving the rank.”

Morgan grunted, turning to face them properly and taking a step forward. They felt strong, strong enough to be sith Lords themselves, and he cursed internally. It seemed Baras didn’t feel like waiting after all. “Who are you to kill my men?”

“Your executioners, and hers.” The same man chuckled, hand emerging from under his robe. The severed head of Pete was dropped to his feet, as if discarding a toy. “But Baras is merciful. Kill Jaesa, as he has commanded, and we’ll make it quick. We might even spare the rest of your minions, though we’ll be keeping those you call apprentices. They should make for good pets, assuming they last the week.”

A sigh escaped him, Morgan testing his leg. Decent, though not fully healed. “Merciful indeed. Let me be clear, just in case you two are as thick as you seem. You killed my people, threatened those under my charge and lied to my face. I’m going to lock you in your mind, amputate your limbs and suspend you as scarecrows.”

The sith laughed, and he knew he’d made a mistake. Bluffing never worked when your opponent was fresh, you were wounded and they believed themselves above you. He turned his head slightly, glancing at the three women behind him. “So, how do you want to die?”

“In my bed, drunk on wine and over the age of a hundred.” Inara smiled humorously, eyes turning on Alyssa. “Failing that, on my feet and lightsaber in hand.”

His other apprentice licked her lips, smile just a little too wide, and Morgan nodded at them both. “Very good. Let’s take at least one of them with us, yea? The one on the left has my vote.”

“Before we begin.” The right one interrupted, tone even. “Let us exchange names, so that I might better craft tokens of this battle. I am Lord Greatos, the man next to me Lord Helbaster. We are not, as you might expect, apprentices of Darth Baras.”

Jaesa joined Morgan, having palmed her lightsaber and dropped her stealth. Morgan found her surprisingly powerful, though how much that came from her gift he didn’t know. She spoke with a flat tone, as if uncaring. “I know. You are mercenaries, of a sort, and do work for many. Only those you deem powerful, or those that have something you desire.”

“Karr has told you about us, then.” Helbaster preened. “Good. Fear me, child. I am the reaper.”

“He has not, and I do not. There is no death, there is the Force.”

Morgan grinned, a thing filled with spite. “In balance with chaos and harmony, immortal in the Force. Come, cowards. See which one of you dies here today.”

Helbaster sped forward rapidly enough Morgan could do little but block, finding his strength overcoming that of the sith. The Lord hadn’t expected that, clearly, as it took him a moment too long to get out of the way. His lightsaber raked a strip of flesh from the man’s side, just deep enough to be a hindrance, and grim satisfaction bubbled up.

Unfortunately, the sith’s smile dropped. The next moment a surge of Force crashed against Morgan’s shield, only having time to bleed a fifth of its power, and his reserves dropped to nothing. Just barely enough to reinforce himself, nevermind anything else. So much for that, then.

Teacher had always warned him this would happen. No matter the skill, or the technique, those with raw power had an advantage that was hard to beat. And these two knew how to wield the Dark, unlike Karr. Had spent years honing their craft, even if their control was still worse than his.

It was eye-opening, in a way. He could hide from Baras, maybe even blackmail the man to ensure no more attempts on his life would be coming, but in a straight fight? Even with another decade, time he didn’t have, the man would be able to overpower him. Something would be needed, though he had no idea what. Fleshcrafting related, most likely.

Not that it was going to matter. Another attack, now that he was on his last leg Helbaster seemed eager to play with his food, and he sacrificed his left arm to craft a mental probe. His shields dropped to a whisper of smoke as he took the power to fuel it, managing to use the man’s glee against him. Sloppy, that, to think he was without a card to play.

He pressed, using what he’d learned against Karr, and a section of the man’s brain went quiet. Dead. Not all of it, he had hoped to kill the man’s sight entirely, but Helbaster had caught on at the last moment. Infused his head with Force, a crude but decent defence against his attack. And still the man’s right eye dimmed, gone forever. It would have to do.

A glance told him Alyssa, Inara and Jaesa weren’t doing much better. Greatos was beating them around lazily, knocking them down the moment they got up. Even with their power combined his apprentice's Force attack’s weren’t doing any noticeable damage, Jaesa didn’t seem to have any skills but those with the lightsaber, and Morgan looked away.

‘You’ll be alright.’ He thought, mind going to Vette even as he fended off another strike. ‘John likes you, and you’re more than able to hide from the Empire even if he didn’t. You’ll be just fine.’

“Any last words, little sithling?” The kick slipped past his defences as his reinforcement failed, making him slow noticeably. It fractured more ribs than he cared to count, sending him halfway across the room and breaking his remaining arm as he impacted the wall. His vision darkened a moment as he blinked, Helbaster appearing in front of him. “Some begging, perhaps? I do love it when people beg. Come on, beg for me. Beg for the life of your slave, your soldiers and loved ones. You seem the type.”

A shadow dropped from the ceiling as Morgan contemplated, managing a bloody smile. “All according to plan.”

He blacked out as Bundu’s lightsaber gored the man, going through the heart and carving downwards. Helbaster managed a brief look of surprise before his neck was broken by hand, lightsaber still in his gut. Yes, exactly as he had planned.

To say he dreamed would be a lie, though it wasn’t true nothing either. A fog swirling around and inside him, seemingly curious more than malicious, and Morgan wanted it gone. It retreated with a jerk, managing a frown before leaving and turning confusion to irritation.

Morgan awoke with a jolt, blinking blearily as an unknown silhouette loomed over him. He just about stopped himself from lashing out, recognizing one of his Chosen more by presence than sight. “What happened?”

“Sir. Can you stand?”

Adrenaline, right. He stood with a confused frown, looking down at his arm. Oh. He’d lost one. “Anyone see my appendage?”

His question was met by silence, and he finally noticed the room was rather tense. Helbaster was still where he fell, looking very dead, and he mentally calculated how long he’d been out. Not more than a minute, he reasoned. In that time things had gotten rather messy, because nothing could ever be easy and god was a bastard.

“Alyssa, Inara, with me. Jaesa can speak with the jedi if she so pleases.” They obeyed, standing a little closer than was necessary. Honestly, you have one sure-death encounter only foiled by a master assassin and everyone gets all protective. “Bundu, Volryder. Twice now I owe you my life, that isn’t something I’m going to forget. Not that I know how you’re here, exactly, but thank you all the same.”

The jedi Master bowed his head in greeting, robes covered in blood. Greatos was next to him, missing a hand and one of his legs a bloody ruin. Were those slugthrower marks through his skull? “We came at the behest of someone named Vette, claiming I owed you a debt. A bit crude, she was clearly in a hurry, but not untrue. Killing sith such as these I would have done regardless.”

As if he needed more reason to love his twi’lek. Jaesa was looking between the sith Lords, her former Master and himself, moving hesitantly towards the jedi, and he shrugged. She took that as confirmation he wasn’t going to do anything, clearly, and joined them properly. She and Volryder started whispering to each other, Bundu standing close but noticeably apart.

“Jillins, report. Where is my arm?”

“Sir.” The lieutenant walked up, having been overseeing the proper handling of his three dead men. Morgan grimaced, shaking his head. A reckoning would come for that, though not soon. “Your limb was destroyed by the one called Greatos, seemingly as an act of spite. Specialist Horas managed to land a high calibre round shortly afterward, the sith unable to dodge thanks to the jedi. We secured the room and awakened you shortly after, reasoning you are by far the best healer we have. Apologies if that wasn’t the right call, sir.”

Morgan bent down, touching the dead body at his feet. Helbaster was soon without a brain or organs, liquefied into a sludge like consistency. Greatos followed after a moment, even though his brain was already a mess, and Volryder stepped aside politely. “None of that, lieutenant. Have these two hanged with rope, high up, and be sure to throw them off. I want all of Baras’s people to see what happened to them, broken necks and all. I’ll get to the other wounded in a minute, assuming none are critical.”

Jillins moved to obey, shaking his head. “None, sir. The jedi Master has sustained heavy injuries, but he has assured us he will survive.”

It was Jaesa that spoke as the lieutenant moved away, walking towards him slowly. Morgan was glad she didn’t seem in a fighting mood, seeing as she’d probably have a good shot at it. Well, without Alyssa and Inara ready to cut everything that breathed at him wrong. Or the jedi Knight that just came to his defence. Or the soldiers. Maybe not such a good shot.

“No. To answer your question about Master Karr, no. He treated me well, cared for my health and taught me many things, but I was always a tool to him. A treasured tool, the one he needed to finally beat Baras, but never more than that. Even being his apprentice, his padawan, always came with a sense of obligation rather than desire. You wish to recruit me, then. I suppose I have my answer as to what is happening.”

He shrugged. “That’s true. But, unlike what I imagine happened before, it's your choice. Not a single one of my people is with me by force, not one. Feel for it yourself, if you wish.”

“I have. Your soldiers draped in suits of Force, their strength fueling dedication. The sith that dog your every step, motivated by longing and gratitude. The jedi you turned from the Light, ever watching for a betrayal he’s starting to suspect will never come. My own Master on Tatooine, a man that taught me so much about myself I fear the person I would be without him. Even he gave you his blessing, sacrificing his own life for a purpose I can’t even grasp at. Spared my parents when not doing so would have been significantly easier, fought in my defence to near death. I have felt quite enough.”

“Then the decision is yours. I can teach you the skills and mindset of the Je’daii, as Bundu has. Train you to be strong, strong enough none can tell you how to live your life. But now and always, you shall have the power to choose.”

“You mean that, don’t you.” She tilted her head, eyes half closed. “No, not just mean. It is the essence of you. The turning point in your life. The moment where you chose defiance, damn the consequences. I.”

She flinched away, blinking rapidly. Morgan grunted, suppressing the chill going down his spine. No wonder Karr believed she could bring Baras’s empire to the ground. “I know better than most the depth sith will go to for power, Jaesa. I know how cruel they can be to those they deem lesser. So yes, I chose defiance. I realised I had a choice, and swore to myself that everyone who worked for me, worked with me, would have the same.”

“You can protect me from Baras?”

Morgan snorted, offering his remaining hand and ignoring the bone sticking out. “You can protect us both.”

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

Jaesa watched the Imperial officers closely, warily, and he couldn't blame her. She spent quite a while running from them, being among them would be an adjustment. He wasn’t too worried.

He ignored as people stared at his stump, already growing a new arm. He had to take it slow, seeing as he also had to make sure his fleshcrafting specific reinforcement attached properly, and he hadn’t bothered with any low level illusions. People could deal.

“I understand why he had to die, I do, but I still want to believe he could have regained his sanity. Killing him wasn’t right.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, turning to look. “Perhaps not. Perhaps he could have flourished somewhere far away from war and battle. But Baras wouldn't stand for it, and what we have might not be enough to save even ourselves. You agreed, Jaesa. A clean death.”

A silent Vette stood in the doorway to their room as he looked over, changing his mind about escorting Jaesa himself. A wave and Alyssa took over, Morgan stepping inside. Vette actually squeaked as he engulfed her, giggling a little too sinisterly as he picked her up.

“You’re alive. You’re alive and you're perfectly fine. Minus an arm, and holy shit that looks narly.”

“It’ll grow back. Thank you for sending the jedi, it saved my life.”

Vette stopped laughing, only answering after she came back up for air. He himself could keep that up for far longer, but he supposed some still obeyed natural laws. “I had a hunch, figured it wouldn't lose me much if I was wrong. Glad I did. Very glad. You pick up another stray?”

“Jaesa, yea. Agreed to become my apprentice if I protect her from Baras, teach her more about the Je’daii. Turns out she’s a curious soul.”

She hummed, looking at his stump again. “You’re not as healthy as you’re pretending, are you?”

“No.” He admitted. “I’ll need to regrow the arm, obviously, but the leg is in bad shape. You’d think regrowing something would be harder, and to be fair it is, but still. Spine’s still bruised, need to make sure all those very many nerves stay in the right place, and I won’t bore you with the minor stuff. It's gonna take some time. Speaking off, I need to go.”

A protest formed on her lips before she swallowed it, nodding. “Right, do your thing. I’ll be here, armchair generaling an operation that has nothing to do with any of this.”

Morgan kissed her again before leaving, clearing his head. Jaesa could wait, for now, and all the wounded had been taken care of on the flight over. He owed Baras a mission report.

The long ranged communicator room was empty as he arrived, inputting the Darth's personal connection. It winked to life after a few moments, and for once Morgan was the one to speak first.

“I’m happy to report the mission is complete, Master.” He bowed, keeping his face blank. Grinning would be a step too far. “Karr is dead, no longer able to use his apprentice to obstruct your efforts. Unfortunately, two sith Lords ambushed me not long after. They had terrible timing, refusing to listen to reason, and so, unfortunately, both are dead.”

More silence, Baras looking at him for a long few seconds. “I see. Unfortunate indeed. The padawan joined her teacher?”

“No, Master. I felt she could do more as my apprentice, her talents bend to our purpose. She was amiable to the proposition.”

“I am ordering you to kill her.” The man ground out. “Right now.”

Morgan tilted his head, genuinely curious. They were dispersing with subtext, then. “Or what? The lackeys you send are dead, hanged like common thieves. Any more you send will follow, unless you feel like coming out here yourself. If you can find me, that is. But really, none of that will be necessary. I’m quite happy with our arrangement so far.”

“And why, pray tell, would I want an disobedient pup as my apprentice?”

“Beliarus Kell, Dromund Kaas. Sector nine, apartment complex four and I’m sure you remember which room.”

Baras stilled, a heavy feeling pushing down on the room. Morgan flexed his own presence, chasing it away, and remained silent. It was the best card he had, really, and they both knew it. Question was, would Baras want him dead so badly he’d risk war with one of his rivals? Spying on Darths was ever so risky business, after all, especially if doing so via the woman’s lover.

“Only the most accomplished among us are named Lords among the sith. Come to Korriban. You will have your title, your prestige, but you will still obey me as your Master. You will still carry out my will.”

Morgan bowed, Baras cut the connection, and Jaesa stepped out from the shadows. She really was good at hiding, not a surprise considering Karr’s extensive knowledge in the field, and even managed to not seem afraid. He could still feel it in her. “He wasn’t lying. Not about what he said, at least. I don’t know if he’s going to change his mind.”

“A risk we’ll have to take. And while I appreciate initiative, treasure your assistance here and now, do not presume to ever spy on me again.”

She nodded, swallowing, and he turned to the door. “Thank you. Alyssa and Inara will show you the basics of fleshcrafting, a discipline all those under my tutelage will learn, and we’ll start on your lessons proper tomorrow. Be aware my captains, Kala and Quinn, will wish to make extensive use of your abilities. Assist them as best you are able.”

A shallow bow and he left, making him shake his head. She’d need work, that was for sure. But all that was for tomorrow, as tonight they had a funeral and celebrations. He’d been pushing his people hard, soldiers and crew both, so they deserved a few days of merriment. He could use the rest himself, truth be told.

Morgan straightened as half his focus turned inward, working slowly but steadily at his wounds, and the other half turned to the future. He’d need something, a skill or ability or cheat, to bridge the gaps in power.

Teacher would know more, assuming the man woke up anytime soon. Maybe Korriban would help with that.

Work never ended, but he’d bought them all a breather.

It remained to be seen if it would be enough.

End of Arc One.