“Now this is a proper tomb.” Soft Voice enthused, waving his hand. Natural cave structures large enough to house skyscrapers spread before them, connected by smaller tunnels both made and formed. Republic steel gave way to ancient stone, stronger in ways Morgan found hard to interpret, and carvings about rakatan glory could be found everywhere. “None of that, I could sprint through here in minutes, kind of stuff. A proper, fuck-you enormous vault filled with all the most dangerous things possible.”
The Tomb, as his friend so eloquently described, certainly was that. Statues, too, runes and text marking nearly everything. Not that he could read that, but he was fairly sure it was self-aggrandising fluff.
The ice did lend it a fearsome backdrop, he would admit. Back at their landing site and the surrounding prison complex, it was distant. Clearly in an ice age, with mountains of the stuff rising hundreds of feet, but kept at bay. Here? In a part of the prison the Republic barely built on?
This was old. Primal. Lava steamed between broken rock, whole pools of it visible to the naked eye. Despite that, the air was cool. Unnaturally so, though they’d done tests when they first arrived. Artificially held in check, made breathable and almost pleasant to the touch.
No Republic technology did that, he was sure.
There were beasts too, the kind that bred quickly and hunted in groups. Nothing he could name, though people did as people do and did it for him, and looking vaguely like large lizards. Hyper-aggressive, which was more or less the norm down here.
The Esh-kha, thankfully, were still in stasis. Morgan would very much like for them to stay there, even if he’d forgotten their names until reading it on a report. The operation to set free a number of species for interrogation, including that one, had been stopped when he took command.
General Calum had been none too pleased, hating the waste of resources, but then the man didn’t know what those madmen would get up to. The rakata had imprisoned them for burning whole worlds, even the galaxy conquering species finding them too savage, and Morgan didn’t think thousands and thousands of years of stasis had made them friendlier.
Truthfully, Morgan didn’t know much about them either. Only thing he remembered was them messing with the World Razor, possibly something about the Dread Masters, and generally causing a mass amount of destruction.
The Dread Masters. Another potential problem, and one they were getting fairly close to. Six sith Lords of unspecified power, wielding terror like a blade. Old, centuries at the least, and serving as the Emperor's advisors. Defeated, imprisoned, soon-to-be set free.
Which would be bad, because they would almost immediately rebel against the Empire and set about terrorizing the galaxy. Also not something he was remotely confident in dealing with, so it was set on the back burner. Darth Ekkage first, insane sith Lords later.
Or never.
But, since the Esh-kha were still contained, the Tomb was relatively peaceful. Their absence let the predators expand rapidly, which wasn’t great, but he’d take animals acting on instinct over an organized army anyday.
Controlling them was a chore, each one being surprisingly individualist even as they hunted in packs, but it was doable. Left Lana and Soft Voice at full strength, not to mention his Chosen uneaten, while also giving him more practice.
They were joined by vrblthr, kintan, something the scouts called gargantuans, and more. Words that meant nothing to him, teeth and claws in different configurations doing pretty much the same thing.
Find prey, eat prey, breed, repeat.
It became less prison and more inhabited cave the deeper they went. Still with rakatan statues and facilities, but without paths or guardrails. Something of a problem when the floor was replaced by lava.
Another pack of beasts set off his newest guards, monsters fighting monsters, and Morgan sighed as he added the survivors to his web. It worked, and allowed them to be down here without a massive army, but damn if it wasn’t annoying.
The Chosen, at least, were performing well. Nearly unable to tire, reacting at impressive speeds and healing relatively quickly. All three of their Lords being here made taking any more Enosis sith a problem, leaving them all behind to deter Thos or Medechas was a necessity, and taking Morgan’s own still gave them soldiers to work with. A smaller, mobile force.
“He’s doing that thing again.” Lana muttered, making Morgan focus. Soft Voice leaned closer to her, doing a horrible job of appearing subtle. She sighed. “Just. Just leave me alone.”
“You wound me, miss Beniko. I am merely wishing to assist in your active rebellion against our glorious leader’s character. I, too, have noticed him stare at nothing.”
Lana mumbled something about them being allies, making the giant devaronian snort, and Morgan waved his hand. His pack of predators, down to nineteen, surged forward as he spoke. “If I'm the glorious leader, how about you kill that thing? It would probably wipe out my horde.”
Soft Voice bowed his head in a somber salute, bending his knees slightly. Then he was flying, aiming for the gargantuan. The enormous beast had just enough time to bellow a challenge before his friend ignited a lightsaber, landing hard.
The gargantuan fell, brain savaged by plasma, and the devaronian pushed off. Soared until he landed in the middle of another pack, scattering them as a shockwave detonated. Morgan hastily pulled his own beasts back, the sith Lord slaughtering apex-predators with about as much trouble as taking a flight of stairs.
Slightly exhausting, if you hurried, but nothing all that challenging.
“You two planned this, didn’t you?” Lana asked, motioning towards the chaos. “Back when you were on Korriban, I mean. Got together and realised that appearing like fools was to your advantage. That it would make your enemies underestimate you, humiliate them when they are beaten by clowns.”
Morgan shrugged. “I mean, I’d like to take credit for being that farsighted, but we pretty much came up with it separately. You don’t spend too much time with ‘normal’ people, I take it?”
“Not much, no. They tend to either cower, try to send me on missions or attempt to kill me.”
“Figures.” He snorted. “Well, you’ve done so now. Spoken with both my own people and those of the Enosis, even if that distinction is slowly disappearing. What’s your verdict?”
“Those without the Force are slow, fragile and too easily frightened. Herd animals flocking to each other for safety.” She paused, sighing. “But there are exceptions. I will admit I have enjoyed some conversations with them, realized insights I likely would not have had without their input.”
He nodded. “Exactly. You won’t get that if people are afraid you’ll snap their neck if they breathe wrong, so it's better to appear eccentric than some avatar of power. It lets them pretend they’re speaking with someone who is their equal, share ideas and thoughts freely.”
“They are not our equal.”
“That’s why I said pretend.” Morgan said dryly, seeing Soft Voice was about finished with his slaughter. “Try it out, see if you like it. Believe me, it's a lot less stressful than appearing infallible. Only with those you trust, obviously, like that captain you’ve been talking to. Harran, I think his name was.”
Lana stiffened as Soft Voice rejoined them properly, rolling his shoulder. “You seem on-guard, miss Beniko. Did my churlish friend say something to offend you?”
“Reminded me I have no privacy, clearly.”
Morgan shrugged. “Then don’t steal him away from his shift and get him reprimanded, next time. And make very sure he’s not feeling pressured by the power difference. I’m good at being foolish, as we’ve established, but I take the wellbeing of my people nearly as seriously.”
“Noted.”
“Well, now that everything is awkward, I think that one has something important to say.” The devaronian pointed, one of their scouts returning to the group at full sprint. “Very important, it would seem.”
It took a moment, the woman filling in her squad leader before that one filled in Jillins, but the man came over after half a minute. “My Lords. A heavy Republic presence has been sighted at one point five clicks north east, at least four jedi with them.”
Morgan stilled his mind, sweeping out his lightest scan. It confirmed the report, though it was also noticed by one of their own. That one had very sharp senses, apparently. Great.
“So there is. How many?”
“Roughly fifteen hundred. Not enough to explain their lack of presence in the prison. Only four Republic stations have been found, as of half an hour ago, and each was crewed by non-organic personnel only.”
“We could always ask.” Morgan replied, waving in the jedi’s general direction. “They’re moving over. Hold and fortify.”
The captain nodded, barking at his officers to get moving. Four hundred souls, along with a detachment of scouts from Sam, hustled closer to the wall. It would give them something solid at their backs, allowing static shields to be deployed with overlapping fields of protection.
Sam had insisted the men he’d sent knew the area, but honestly Morgan was beginning to doubt it. Each had rakatan technology fused to their bodies, which allowed them to keep up, but still. Not much use out of them since they’d entered the Tomb itself.
Maybe a little unrealistic to expect them to be familiar with the Republic's maximum security facility. And the man had managed to haggle a breather on the removal of rakatan enhancements, too. Had argued that Belsavis was dangerous, and sending them out on missions without professional training or their own advantages was irresponsible.
Morgan found the man surprisingly quick to adapt. Nothing like the stubborn, set-in-his-ways old soldier he’d feared. Instead Sam had made his choice, threw himself into work and was willing to argue when he saw a better solution. Rough around the edges, maybe, but a good find.
He lost the opportunity to think of it more as Soft Voice tugged him back towards their lines, scores and scores of Republic soldiers appearing across the chasm. There were plenty of points to cross, so Morgan didn’t think Jillins had chosen the place for that, but still. It made for a convenient place to hold neutral talks.
Which, to his muted surprise, is exactly what the jedi started with. A party of six, four of them Force users. Now that they were closer Morgan knew another three were staying behind, one of which was feeling as dangerous as a jedi Master.
Lana joined them as they walked forward, an unspoken agreement being reached that they’d at least try the diplomatic approach. Just like with the escaped beasts, his company wasn’t here to waste power fighting the Republic.
“Sith Lords Caro, Zethix and Lana.” The lead jedi began, speaking well before it would have been comfortable. Eighty feet, at the least? Not that anyone who used the Force cared. “I am jedi Master Timmns. You have violated eighteen points of the Treaty of Coruscant, nine counts of precedent about the treatment and housing of prisoners and I will save my breath on the ethical breaches of conduct.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “You know us?”
“I know you, Lord Caro. You are the one that killed jedi Master Nomen Karr, turned his apprentice away from the Light, and took command over the largest prison break in recorded history. Nomen Karr is, was, my Master.”
“Oh.” Morgan exhaled, rolling his shoulder. “Well, fuck. I suppose that’s the peaceful option out the window, then? In my defence, the man started drinking from the Dark on his own volition, and I really would have preferred not to be there.”
“Do you also claim innocence about kidnapping Jaesa Willsaam?”
“Yup. Gave her the choice, she chose. Any chance you’d tell me why you’re down here? We might be working towards the same goal.”
Timmns snorted. “I doubt it. But I suppose it does not matter, does it? We are here to kill Darth Ekkage, along with several of the more dangerous prisoners.”
“You are here to neutralise the most important assets to the Empire.” Lana interrupted. “Sacrificing the rest of the facility to slow us down. I would be very surprised if the Dread Masters were not on that list, if not your primary purpose.”
Morgan frowned. “Not to tell you what to do, really, but that last bit is foolishness bordering on stupidity. Which, from our interaction thus far, you are not. You have someone here that can shield you from their corruption? Ah, him. Hello again, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name last time.”
The jedi Master pulled the kid back as he waved, having taken a step forward. No older than fourteen, by Morgan’s reckoning. Barely a padawan.
“You know, I’m getting really sick of jedi bringing kids out onto the battlefield.” Soft Voice said, his tone flat. “On Balmorra, then on Taanab. Now on Belsavis, risking the young for reasons no grander than blind apathy.”
The man pushed the kid further back still, nearly at the center of their formation. “He is not here to fight. I would not expect a sith to care about children, Lord Zethix.”
“Then your ignorance is only eclipsed by a lack of military understanding. No matter why you thought you brought him, this is a warzone. That means he is, by definition, a soldier. A child soldier.”
Morgan shot his friend a look, stepping forward. “I’m sure there is more to it than that, but he makes a good point. Last time I saw you, kid, you were on Tatooine. Does Artemus know you are here?”
“The Underseer does not wish us to speak to you again.” The kid replied, sounding like someone trying to appear confident. “You are not welcome on Tatooine any longer. He wishes you to know the future of inevitability is set.”
“Alright then, cryptic as ever. Do give him my greetings. So, Timmns, would you believe that we are also here to kill Darth Ekkage?”
He speaks truth. A voice whispered, Morgan tilting his head. He wishes for unity. He w- He can hear us.
It cut off before he could narrow it down, but he had a pretty good idea about who that was anyway. He waved at the mostly hidden jedi Master, shielded by Republic troops. “Is she going to join us?”
“No. Would I be the first jedi to wish you dead? Before you grow out of control, become another monster that needs a half dozen Masters to cut down?”
“You would not be. Unfortunately, you didn’t bring enough jedi.” Morgan’s eyes flickered to the side, a stoic Soft Voice and apathetic Lana standing slightly behind him. “Certainly not right now.”
“Yes, the sith that made allies. I dislike you, Lord Caro. Not for killing my Master, I felt more acutely than most how far he fell. Not even for the lives you claim or the power you might grow into. I dislike you because you understand the need for unity. It makes you more dangerous than any Darth, more potentially catastrophic than any Imperial plot.”
“But right now it is to your benefit.”
Timmns bowed his head. “But right now it is to my benefit. Our primary mission is to ensure the Dread Masters die a gentle death, still locked in the cells they inhabit. Without ever waking from their induced sleep, I should add. Padawan Hemin will shield us from their influence, for even as they dream they warp the Force into terror unimaginable, but it remains a risk. One that, with your help, can be mitigated.”
”More imaginable for some than others.” Soft Voice replied, relaxing slightly. “I will agree to a temporary alliance.”
Lana nodded, Timmns seemed to speak for his entire operation, and Morgan felt everyone relax as hands were shook. “Well, I’m glad we can all be friends. For what it's worth, I didn’t want to kill Karr.”
“It appears not. We shall speak more of this later, if that is agreeable.” Timmns visibly collected himself when Morgan nodded, waving to his men. “Is it clear the Dread Masters should be our main priority? The threat they pose is nearly equal to the Emperor himself, especially together.”
“It is. Afterwards, however, we will deal with Ekkage as unfairly as possible. Jump her with every Master, Knight and Lord we have. Even weakened I don’t see her being an easy target, but let me assure you her escape would not serve the Republic.”
The jedi agreed, clearly finding that an excellent idea, and pointed further down into the Tomb. “Many monsters make this their home, one of which is of particular concern. You have met the large ones? They have bigger, tougher siblings. Enough so we were forced to detour twice already.”
“I’m good at steering animals.” Morgan offered, turning to the side. Timmns joined him, standing together rather than opposite. “Making them fight one another. The pack of predators I kept in reserve to ambush you speaks to that, so unless these gargantuan are gargantuasly Force resistant, they won’t be a problem. And yes, I think their name is wrong.”
“Very good. According to our maps it is another five clicks until we arrive at the Cells of the Lords of the Infinite, a place where we can potentially run into Scorpio, an advanced artificial intelligence unit guarding a number of security wards. SIS has informed me her priorities are, let us say, not for me to alter. Fortunately, both our targets are not located near ward twenty three.”
Morgan nodded, wincing internally. Right, Scorpio. Someone who could be a great ally, if he had anyone remotely capable of countering her when she went rogue. Which she would, sooner or later. He didn’t remember much about her, but a true ally she was not.
“That’s good. So, I assume you’re not planning to throw away your men’s lives in a fruitless attempt to tire the Dread Masters?”
“No.” Timmns replied dryly. “I am not. When we enter their area of influence all but me, Master Yolanda, padawan Hemin and jedi Knights Elukard and Sophia will stay behind. Now that group shall include you three, giving us a much better chance of survival when something inevitably goes wrong.”
He felt they had a pretty good shot, actually, considering the Others did essentially the same thing, but then again maybe that was what the Dread Masters used? Each with an Other curled around their soul, flavoring their presence? That would mean they had centuries of experience using something he himself just got started with, a not terribly tempting proposition.
Then again, maybe they used something else. Sadow had said the Emperor didn’t have a great understanding of the Other, so it would be strange if his advisors specialised in the art. That man wouldn't stand for his followers being better at something.
Either way, they got moving. Not quite combining their forces, that would take a measure of trust that wasn’t likely to develop, but moving to secure each other's flanks. Morgan kept his promise to ward off the predators, taking a forward position with Lana as Soft Voice remained with the Chosen, and time dragged on.
Making good progress for half an hour, then being forced to dig in as a wave of kintan surged from some hidden cave. Kill them only to find the smell of blood attracted vrblthr, having to do the exact same thing not ten minutes later.
His ability to steer animals was growing, at least, but he was coming up on mental fatigue. Lana took over soon after, wiping out near half a hundred of the things on her own, before he covered her in turn. Took half a dozen of the more cooperative beasts and surged their strength, a crude but workable reinforcement that saw them savage four times their number.
Before dying, but he wasn’t overly bothered. The lesser strain allowed him to set a more sustainable pace, as well as the fact the jedi were taking care of their own, and soon enough the day fell into a pattern.
Advance, inevitably trip over a monster nest, dig in. Watch his Chosen deal with the initial wave, their enemy growing confidant victory was near, step in once the beasts committed their forces. Not exactly tactics, not from animals, but they fought with cunning. Which, he had to admit, could be enough.
“I’ll go help them.” Lana offered, making him nod. “You’d think even jedi would have learned their lesson by now.”
Morgan shrugged, watching her move over to assist the Republic forces. Even at twice their number they had no mobile shields, which could slow the beasts for just a second, and without enhanced reflexes their aim wasn’t the best.
The two jedi Masters were doing work, yes, and their Knights held the line, but their version of crowd control involved pacifying the things. Which, after a few seconds of confusion, would just make them attack again. It staggered the wave, maybe, but not as neat a solution as his.
Lana tore into them with a vengeance, summoning power like it cost her nothing. Vrblthr where flung around like toys, usually with broken necks, and any that tried to get close lost a limb. Her style was more graceful than either his own or Soft Voice’s, lacking the brute physical strength they applied, but no less effective for it.
Their sparring sessions could attest to that.
A shame, really, that his split-seconds of enhanced strength only worked particularly well on those that didn’t expect it. Those with experience, such as the time he’d accidentally shattered Lana’s jaw, tended to work around it. Play for distance until he was forced to let it go, his regeneration not able to keep up with the damage it was doing.
Morgan rolled his eyes as one of the Knights made a tense gesture to his partner, Lana turning towards them. They didn’t exactly pose a threat, not to her, but he supposed it was bad form if he were to just stand by and watch.
He was just about to move over before Timmns beat him to it, waving the Knights away and bowing his head in thanks. Lana returned, briefly blurring across the landscape, and he didn’t say anything as they got back to work.
“Bringing the Chosen was a good plan.” Soft Voice said, Morgan moving towards the main force to be relieved. The devaronian was munching on something resembling meat, dried and cured to the point of being unrecognisable. “Saves us from having to eat rations. That and fighting Darth Ekkage with a horde of monsters on our tail would have been irresponsible. Funny, maybe, but not to our advantage.”
Shrugging, and stealing the rest of the man’s food, Morgan indicated the front. “Back to work, you. It's my time to sit here and pretend to guard the troops. Besides, we might be fast enough to outrun them, but they don’t seem the type to give up. Would be mighty awkward if we got lost and had to run in circles to avoid them while we figured out where to go.”
“Good thing the jedi brought maps, then.”
Morgan relaxed as the man left, meaning he took care of the occasional straggler that made it past everything else, and was somewhat surprised to find Timmns joining him a little while later. The Chosen didn’t seem overly happy about that, several squads moving to get a better position against the jedi, but if the man noticed he didn't say anything.
“Lord Caro.”
“Master Timmns. You can call me Morgan, if you’d like. Not overly attached to formality.”
The jedi shook his head. “I prefer to remind myself of your nature, no matter how genial you might seem. I will not become another jedi for you to lure off the path.”
“Sure, sure.” Morgan agreed easily. “Must keep our minds fully closed to new ideas. We might learn something, otherwise, and that would go against scripture. But why worry? I only lured a padawan. I’m sure a big, strong Master like yourself would never be tempted by little old me.”
“Mock me as you wish, sith. I will remain firm in my conviction. And we both know it was more than just Jaesa, though that alone was a terrible loss. Had you brought her I might have been forced to take her away.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “She might have something to say about that, as would several thousand other people. As long as she wishes to stay, she will enjoy my full support. But then I’m sure your strong feelings on the matter have nothing to do with latent guilt; bringing a child to a place that could very well kill him.”
Timmns’ shields tightened, which was amusing since Morgan hadn’t even been looking, and the jedi didn’t reply. He shrugged, ready to let the matter drop, until the man spoke after some seconds of silence.
“It is the only way. You guessed correctly that he can nullify the power of the Dread Masters, if only to a number of individuals at the time. His Master sent him to us three weeks ago, alone and with a single letter of explanation. Belsavis hadn’t even been attacked back then, nor were we anywhere close to the planet. The only reason we managed to get on the surface was blind luck, rallying what few troops we still possessed.”
Timmns took a breath. “You can think me a monster, sith, but his involvement will save lives. Millions of them.”
“Billions.” Morgan corrected, making the jedi snap his focus to him. “The ends justify the means, I get it. Looming consequences that make you feel like you have no choice at all. Think us monsters, jedi, and you would be right nearly always. Look at why we are monsters, and you might find more tragedy than sadism.”
The jedi narrowed his eyes. “This does not absolve them of responsibility.”
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“No. It doesn’t. But you cannot push people until they break then act surprised when they choose to inflict pain rather than receive it. Cannot look at a place such as Korriban and shake your head in sadness, wondering how the sith always manage to pick such deplorable people to train.”
“I know this.” Timmns replied, tone strained. “The kind die and the cruel rise, corrupted by the Dark. It is what we are trying to stop.”
Morgan shrugged. “Yet you ignore a rather important issue. Is Korriban such a Dark nexus because it corrupts people, or has millennia of bloodshed, torture and more tainted the planet? Is the Dark real because people draw strength from it, or do people see the Force only as Dark because it was used to break them down?”
“How would you explain fallen jedi?”
“Perhaps they hear stories about an easy path to power, fall to their own worst nature.” Morgan waved his hand. “I do not claim to have all the answers. Yet no explanation I’ve heard, from jedi or sith, have ever felt complete to me. So, as sentient beings have done since the dawn of time, I sought to seek my own.”
“And what have you found?”
Morgan shook his head. “I’ll let you know.”
The jedi nodded, seeming to take the statement seriously, and Morgan was left alone. He spend some time properly reinforcing three kintan, their vaguely ape like bodies stronger than those of the vrblthr, and watched as they tore apart a gargantuan.
But, inevitably, they got to the containment cells. The actual prison within the tomb, rakatan honorifics swelling to near annoying levels. Statues, vast murals, text wrapping around stones the size of ships. On and on the boasting went, though at least they had competent stonemasons.
Everyone came to a halt as Timmns judged it the furthest non-Force users could go, two camps being set up as the eight of them continued. Slightly worrisome, since there were still jedi with the Republic force, but his Chosen could take care of themselves.
Hell, if the jedi attacked there would be a very nasty surprise waiting for them.
Morgan put it out of his mind as they got closer still, walking through old fortifications and ancient hallways. He wasn’t being humble when he judged his senses better than most, so the fact he hadn’t felt a hint of influence struck him as wrong.
The Dread Masters should be in stasis, dreaming as their powers lashed out of control. It was why they’d been moved down here in the first place, twisting thousands even when unconscious. The absence of power suggested a rational mind, something that would make their job far harder.
Timmns passed newer, Republic fortifications as they went deeper still, disabling security with information rather than violence. Which, Morgan would admit, was fortunate. Doors thick enough a lightsaber would prove too short, automated defences numerous enough to overwhelm even a Lord’s speed and reflexes. A passive army of droids, row after row standing ready to keep their charges as they were.
“I assume the self-destruct function failed?” Lana asked, eyes roving over the machines. “Along with the other two dozen plans you must have had to contain a potential escape?”
The jedi Master grunted, seeming to like the silence no more than they did. “The droids stopped responding to orders when the Empire attacked, we’ve only been able to determine it was mechanical failure rather than a signal blocker, and there isn’t a bomb buried in the basement. A panel of senators judged it too severe for an already barbaric institution.”
“And you wonder why the Empire managed to nearly win the war despite our severe economical disadvantage.”
Smiling at her scathing tone, and judging them right along with her, Morgan pointed. “That’s the last door, correct? Inside should be six sith Lords of horrific power held in perfect stasis, no more able to twitch than the dead.”
“You think they escaped?” Soft Voice asked, eyebrow rising. “All the security was intact. From what little I have read of them, they are not subtle.”
“I’m hoping they have. Because, as I see it, either they’re gone or we’re about to get ambushed.”
Timmns pushed in the last code, a surprisingly small room revealed itself, and the six tube-shaped containers meant to hold the six Dread Masters were empty. The jedi slowed as he looked around, an increasing feeling of panic leaking past his shields, and the other Master walked towards the control panel.
She didn’t speak much, aside from when he caught her whispering into Timmns’ mind, but she seemed capable enough. The Knights joined her, Elukard speaking. “It says the field keeping them suspended failed twenty three hours and fifteen minutes ago, triggering an automatic euthanasia of the subjects. Nothing in our documents say such a feature exists, and we have been assured by four different offices, including the SIS, that it is the most complete record in existence.”
“Someone probably had a moment of clarity while setting up the chamber.” Morgan muttered, approaching the tubes. Just enough for a grown man to stand in, unable to stretch their limbs fully. It would keep them literally suspended in the air, a feature he judged somewhat redundant, though he thought the same about them floating upright. “And it failed all the same. I wouldn't recommend anyone touching these.”
He touched them, feeling the presence that was lacking in the room. It shot up his arm, invading flesh and bone without pause or care, and suffered greatly for it. By the time it reached his brain his passive defences snuffed out the remnant of power, Morgan shaking his hand.
Soft Voice shot him an unimpressed look. “Must you touch everything?”
“Just getting acquainted with their flavor of corruption.” Morgan defended, doing a thorough inspection of his own body. Two latent, nearly impossible to detect traces remained, being snuffed out before he could do it himself. He looked over to see Hemin with his eyes closed, opening as the kid relaxed. “Thanks. Anyway, don’t touch those. I will put down the first soul stupid enough to get themselves corrupted.”
Timmns nodded to himself, not paying Morgan any attention. “Padawan, do you have the scent?”
“I do, Master.”
“Good. The Dread Masters remain our priority, even more so than Darth Ekkage. This is where our paths will split, Lord Caro.”
Lana relaxed in a way that made her look less likely to attack, Soft Voice taking a very unsubtle step closer towards them both. Morgan folded his arms. “You agreed to join forces to kill Ekkage. I see no reason the absence of the Dread Masters would alter this.”
“But you will kill her regardless.” Timmns replied, a faint smile on his lips. “Even if we do not help. She poses too great a threat to you and your allies.”
“Then why should I assist any further with the Dread Masters?”
The jedi looked damn near smug. “Because you want them dead almost as much as me. I am not, however, wholly unrepentant. We will swing past the sub-section where they keep her assassin’s, give you the codes and maps needed to find your way to her. I have enjoyed our talks, Lord Caro. It has given me an understanding of your nature.”
Morgan held up a hand as Lana made ready to surge forward, seeing her pause with clear reluctance. Soft Voice smiled a smile that looked more threatening than a scowl, angling his body forward.
“Then it seems you have guessed correctly.” Morgan said, tone forcefully calm. “Good luck, Master Timmns. You can inform me on this address when you have located our prey.”
The jedi withdrew as Morgan pulled out his datapad, sending the man his contact information. Another message to Jillins told the man to keep his guard up, though Morgan didn’t think it had ever gone down, and he tucked it away as the maps and access codes arrived.
The cell grew silent as footsteps grew quieter and quieter, Lana exhaling deeply. “Jedi. I say we hunt them down, tear through their pathetic Knights, and see what breaking their word gets them. Two Masters are no match for us.”
“No.” Morgan ordered, tone firm. “I won’t lose my chance to kill the Dread Masters over wounded pride. You are free to hate them, if you wish, but this alliance holds until our target is dead or we are attacked.”
Lana stared at him, on the verge of saying something, and backed down after a long second. “As you say. I shall secure our route back to the men.”
She disappeared as he turned back to the prison-tubes, putting a hand on the next one. The little traces of power that tried to sneak past his detection were acting more on instinct than thought, he found, so after the first he found them without too much issue.
Soft Voice spoke as he moved to the third machine, intent to drain every last one. No sense in keeping that around, and it even got him some practice. “I think miss Beniko dislikes being betrayed, even as shallowly as what just happened. Not to say I enjoyed it, of course. Backstabbing and politics is why we build the Enosis to begin with.”
“I’m sure the jedi High Council is more than happy to receive your complaint.” Morgan answered, finding each Dread Master had left their own impression in the Force. How each of their imprints tried to influence or kill him in slightly different ways. “And I’ll extract my revenge, not to worry. Might not come in the form of lightsabers and blood, but I’m sure I can think of something. Turn these to shreds?”
His friend shrugged, tearing the room apart as Morgan banished the last of the corruption. Not every day you’d get to practise fighting off heinously corrupted Force constructs, not even for him. Practise like that was always useful, especially if he was fighting their creators soon.
They rejoined Lana as the room was left in ruin, linking up with the Chosen soon after that. The Republic was already gone, they reported, but had left them well enough alone. Morgan shared his newest batch of intelligence, making their progress much more rapid, and he joined Lana as she pushed ahead.
“If you don’t mind, Lord Caro, I’m not in the mood to listen to you talk.”
He raised an eyebrow, inclining his head, and she didn’t insist he’d fuck off. So he didn’t, helping her fend off the occasional pack of beasts in silence. The majority of their ranks seemed to avoid the inner Tomb, only the most savage of them daring to roam this deep, but the elite of the primal beasts didn’t pose much of a threat.
Numbers had the possibility to slip past and get at softer meat. A vrblthr or kintan champion, even if they banded together?
A different issue. One they, as sith Lords, were very used to dealing with.
More time passed, their progress fast if still slower than he’d like. The Tomb was built for size, that had been clear for a while now, but the distance between each ward seemed excessive. Or maybe not. He had little experience with securing prisoners.
“I dislike being lied to.” Lana said, so quiet he had to sharpen his senses. “People have secrets, I can accept that, but saying one thing while doing another? It angers me, sometimes to the point of blindness.”
He accepted the unspoken thanks with a nod, pointing forwards. “That’s where the maps say Ekkage is housed, if my eyes don’t deceive me. Let’s hope the access codes work.”
They did, apparently the jedi hadn’t entirely screwed them over, and the door opened. Slowly, at that, multiple feet thick and showing its weight. He called over Jillins, had the captain stagger his men squad by squad along the hallway. He wanted absolutely no interruptions when confronting Ekkage.
Which, if all went well, would only take a number of seconds. Seconds to put a lightsaber through her skull, the sleeping Darth no more aware of them than the dead.
He had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that simple.
“Remember.” He said, Soft Voice stepping next to him. Lana breathed, any lingering emotion draining with it. “No stupidity. I fully expect something to go wrong, for her to escape at the last second, so be ready. Sound her out, focus on defence. She should be weakened from captivity, even with the Force sustaining her, so I’m counting on stamina. Wear her out, put her down.”
The facility was still large, if much smaller than the one for the Dread Masters, and more automated defences greeted them. The access codes showed them to be allies, the programming was purposefully left fairly basic, and they marched past it with trouble.
No sense letting a droid develop sentience, attract the Force, and give Ekkage something to sway to her side, after all. Morgan approved of the caution, even if it meant three sith Lords could pretend to be high-ranked inspectors.
Which they were, in a sense.
Squads of Chosen peeled off as they moved deeper, setting up staggered defences that would slow anyone in pursuit. Shields, heavy repeating blasters, soldiers trained in the use of close quarter weapons. Men that sparred against Force users and wielded specialised weaponry to kill them.
Morgan left them to it, slowing his step as they got closer to Ekkage. Unlike with the Dread Masters, her presence was easy to spot. Heavy, almost, and strong enough to put any Lord he’d met to shame. Alone this would have been foolishness, and even with two others at his side hesitation crept up.
He strangled it, stepping to the last door. For all her power, for all that they were within fifty feet of her, her presence remained unfocused. Lashing about without reason or strategy, control forgotten in favor of anger.
The door opened, granting them the sight of the trapped Ekkage, and he suppressed a sigh of relief when they found her exactly where and as she should be. Suspended and unconscious. They walked inside, Lana moving over to the console, and he looked at the Darth.
Old, which wasn’t really a surprise, but not wearing her age well. The Dark was almost leaking out of her eyes, which suggested she had participated in some rather nasty rituals, and her frame was thin. Sickly, he would almost say, if it wasn’t for the strength he felt.
Lana nodded, indicating her restraints were secure, and Morgan grasped his lightsaber with the Force.
Carefully, without leaking the lightest bit of intent, he brought it forward. Ignited it with the sheer purpose of carving his name into the stone, his whole mind focussed on the act. Pressure built as he readied and held a slingshot technique, which would catapult the weapon forwards at ludicrous speed, and aimed it just over her shoulder.
At the last moment, as if the idea had just occurred to him, he trained it on the Darths face; a split second passing between that and the release of his technique. The lightsaber accelerated as if shot, racing towards its target and intent to destroy the brain. To leave Ekkage no chance at resurrection, even if he was going to melt the body afterwards regardless.
The woman’s eyes shot open the moment his aim changed, flickering to him and his allies. A surge of power he had no hope of contesting broke the machines keeping her chained, the Darth landing on the floor gracefully.
Morgan recalled his lightsaber, snapping to hand a moment later, and Ekkage straightened as he suppressed a groan. The hard way, then. “Twelve years since they put me here. Nine since the last of my loyal soldiers managed to bribe a guard to embed a subroutine in the access codes. I had been so sure some jedi would come to gloat, a senator wishing to interrogate me, and I could wake to torment them without risk. But it did its job, I suppose. Eventually. You, little sithling. You have come to kill me. I owe you thanks. The stasis-prison would have shattered my soul had I tried anything before you now.”
“You’re welcome.” He replied, shifting his stance. “That’ll teach me to rely on outside information, I suppose. Should have spent the time to break this place open manually.”
Ekkage smiled, her mouth twisting further than it should have. “Don’t worry about such trivial things as learning from your mistakes. You smell like one of Baras’ pets, sithling, but you don’t obey him any longer. No. My weak little brother, unable to control his apprentices. He’s always been the runt of the litter. You, on the other hand.”
“Yessss.” The Darth crooned. “You allied with jedi to kill my assassins. I smell their hatred, their desire to come to my aid. I shall reward them for their dedication, oh I shall, but first you will be taught some manners. Bow.”
Waves of mental pressure descended on his mind, Morgan feeling his entire focus narrow to a point. Massive amounts of energy bled away as it passed through his flesh, scattering uselessly, and his mental shields had been as strong as they’d ever been. Still he felt them crack, all his control just about able to keep them from shattering. He grunted, spreading his focus like he’d trained with Naga Sadow, and pierced the attack.
A roar of rage signalled Soft Voice shattering his own, breathing hard but otherwise fine, and Lana seemed to have sidestepped parts of the technique. Morgan didn’t know how, exactly, and didn’t have the time to ask.
Ekkage giggled, the sound twice as disturbing as it should have been. “Interesting little pets. I think I’m going to kill you now.”
Morgan felt his perception twist as the Darth reached her hand through nothing, pulling back to reveal a lightsaber in hand. It pulsed with the Force, being taken from somewhere he had no sight of.
The Other came as he called, curling around his soul as it crossed into the lower dimension of the Force. Morgan exhaled as Ekkage narrowed her eyes, the amusement on her face draining away.
Showing his best trick that early was premature, perhaps, but he had a feeling she wasn’t going to give him time to do it later. He opened his mouth to bark a pre-arranged strategy, the Force screaming in warning.
His lightsaber just about managed to block the attack as Ekkage went for the kill, her plan to play with them seemingly abandoned. Morgan’s arms strained as the Darth upped the pressure, forcing him to call on his second trump-card in as many seconds.
Strength flowed through his frame as Ekkage pressed harder, equalising after a moment, and she seemed almost as shocked as he was they found themselves equal.
Soft Voice rammed her like an angry mudhorn, forcing the woman to disengage, and she landed some ways away as Morgan flushed his system. No one, not one, had ever managed to match him when he did that. Not in pure strength. Lana was engaging her for the scant few seconds he needed, torn muscles knitting themselves back together.
He joined a moment after Soft Voice, falling into step beside them both, and did his absolute best to take Ekkage’s head. To end it quickly, even if he was getting increasingly certain that wasn’t going to happen. Even it had never been the plan.
And even three to one the Darth kept up, fending them off while scoring shallow if frequent moves. She, Morgan realised, simply had more experience. Had fought in an actual war, battled jedi and other Darths. Risked her life over and over until she stood over a pile of corpses, screaming her victory to the heavens.
He swallowed a hiss as his guard was broken, having been too slow to call on his own enhanced strength, and felt plasma rake through flesh. His stomach held well, better than it should, but it was the type of wound he couldn't afford to heal mid battle. Not anymore.
Lana managed to take two fingers and lost a large portion of her shoulder in turn, a thin layer of Force condensing over the wound. Ekkage didn’t seem bothered by her loss, the stumps not even seeming all that singed, and blocked Morgan’s strike as she backhanded Soft Voice.
The devaronian had his neck turned so fast Morgan was afraid it had broken, his friend retaliating with a scream of Force. It made the Darth stagger, just for a moment, and Lana swooped in with a vengeance.
Off-balance and forced on the defence, Ekkage failed to stop Morgan from healing Soft Voice injuries, a bruised neck and torn spine fixed in moments. The devaronian jumped her the second Morgan was done, crafting a technique that the Darth had to spend precious moments defending against, and Lana was healed as well.
Morgan was tempted to grin as Ekkage scowled, choosing to attack instead. Power flooded his veins as he accelerated, aiming a strike at the woman’s side. Lana flowed to cut off her path of retreat, forcing her to block, and Morgan put everything he had into overpowering her defences.
Still a tie, to his silent disappointment, and when Soft Voice used the opportunity to cut her leg off she send them all flying. A crude attack that bypassed any defences, affecting the air instead. It had stopped the amputation early, leaving part of her leg attached, and as Morgan rushed back black threads knitted flesh together.
Not healing, not quite, and it didn’t seem to slow her down, but as Morgan pushed again he realised it almost at the same time she did. In a matter of endurance, they’d win. Just like he had hoped for.
So she stopped trying to tire them out, pulling out every large scale move she had. Vanished into the Force until even Morgan’s senses couldn't pick her out, the Other around his soul whispering her location. Waves of lightning sweeping through Soft Voice as Morgan bled the technique dry, the devaronian toughening it out.
Another mental attack sent Lana staggering, one hand clutching her head, and Morgan just about managed to knock her out of it before Ekkage was on her. Lana shocked her in turn, a short ranged blast the Darth couldn't dodge, but no one managed to capitalise on her moment of weakness.
The air thickened as if turned to mud, Ekkage taking the surrounding Force in hand and moulding it. Her lightsaber passed Morgan's defences as he struggled to adapt, opening his neck wide as Beskar armour saved his life, but the Other intervened. Hissed as if highly offended, corrupting her working as it touched on a deeper part of the Force.
The Darth was sent reeling, blood dripping from her eyes, and his two allies kept her busy as Morgan stopped the damage from spreading. A wave of weakness swept over him, banished with a soothing ripple of healing, and he shook his head.
He hung back, sending his knives to harass. They didn’t do much, as expected, but allowed him to support his friends as he took a moment to recover. Ekkage actually wrestled control away from him for a moment, another thing that hadn’t happened for a long while, and he called them back.
It was becoming increasingly clear that they weren't much use when fighting high level opponents. Great for crowd control, yes, not so great when they could be turned against you.
Wounds accumulated and the prison paid the price for their fight, be that deflected lightsabers or durable bodies slamming into the walls. Morgan began to run low on reserves sooner rather than later, even if he’d been using it as efficiently as he could, so anything that didn’t hinder their ability to fight stayed.
Then things that did hinder their ability, but weren't immediately lethal. Burns and bruised bones, deep lacerations spreading a burnt smell through the room. Soft Voice lost his right hand, fighting almost as well with his left, while Lana was missing part of her eye.
Morgan himself felt his wounds all too keenly, though bone-inlaid skin and a reinforced skeletal structure made most of it superficial. Exhaustion was starting to become a constant, enough so he only drew on his extreme strength when he had no choice, and from the looks of things his allies weren’t much better.
But for all that, Ekkage looked worse. She had no healer to patch her up, stitches of whatever technique she used to close her wounds visible all over. Had no allies to give her a moment to breathe, for none of her assassins had come to her side.
He stepped in front of Lana and took another mental attack, dragging the technique to himself instead of being able to cancel it out entirely, and allowed his friend to rake her lightsaber over flesh. Morgan took the damage with a grunt, getting better at unravelling her favored assault in the split-second he had left. Slowly, but getting better. Her outer boundaries were flawless, resisting all attempts at piercing, but slowing one side while not the other caused micro-tears to appear.
One’s that he was all too happy to widen.
Ekkage shied away, though still Lana managed to score a wound by pushing her lightsaber forward with crude telekinesis, and Soft Voice kicked her wounded knee. The technique holding it together gave, making the Darth stumble, and Morgan finally got what he’d been angling for the entire fight.
Fingers brushed skin as he invaded her body, disassembling anything he could get his hands on. Muscle, bone, flesh and fat. All of it turned to vicious disease he encouraged to spread. Infected her blood with something she had no good way to stop.
If she had her full concentration, maybe, she could have contested him. Fight him with control better than his own, even if he didn’t like to admit it. But she wasn’t used to fighting like this, nevermind inside her own body, nor could she afford to give it all her attention.
Morgan accepted the lightsaber entering his gut to maintain his hold on her upper arm, Lana cutting off Ekkage’s other as Soft Voice distracted the Darth. She gurgled as her lungs filled with blood, spitting it into Morgan’s face. He didn’t care, itching his way every closer to her brain.
A shame Beskar armour only made him resistant, not immune. And Ekkage was more than strong enough to force it through, at that.
“Ignorant fools.” Ekkage hissed, managing to twist her way to freedom. The damage had been done, though, and Morgan summoned his lightsaber back to hand. “I will not bow to the idiocy of yo-”
Soft Voice pressed from the side, ignoring her monologue, and as she turned to defend Morgan pinned his focus on her. Willed the connection to resume, for distance should not matter to those wielding the Force. She stuttered as he froze her muscles, managing it for a quarter of a second, and Lana put her lightsaber through the woman’s head.
Darth Ekkage fell as though her string were cut, collapsing, and Morgan turned her body to sludge. Fed it the last of his power to speed up the process, the flesh all but melting in front of his eyes.
“Didn’t know you could affect them without touching.” Soft Voice panted, staggering back. He fell, just about able to turn it into a controlled one, and stayed there. “Fuck I’m tired.”
Morgan spat out blood, closing the puncture leaking the stuff into his lungs. Getting stabbed through the chest hurt. “Neither did I. Just sort of did it.”
“True battle is, as ever, the best way to improve.” Lana mumbled, grace forgotten as she collapsed against the wall. “I would appreciate some healing, if you can spare it.”
Soft Voice raised his stump, waving it vaguely in Morgan’s direction, and he sighed. “Getting right on that. After I spend half an hour meditating, cause I’ve got just about enough to create a stiff breeze at the moment.”
He sat on the floor as the Other detached, growing bored now that the fight was over. Not his greatest fan, this one, but it had been closer than any of its brethren. Morgan blinked slowly, already slipping into meditation.
‘I suppose that’s exactly what they are. Fans. Beings looking for entertainment, either apathetic or invested. Willing to intervene or wishing to watch it play out. Someone to root and cheer for, but risk themselves only sparingly.’
“We just killed a Darth.” Soft Voice said, Morgan opening his eyes. “A weakened, outnumbered one that focussed on stealth and sneak attacks, but we just killed a Darth.”
Lana grunted, raising her head. “Let Morgan meditate so he can heal us, please. But yes, I suppose we did. A former Dark Council member, at that, though it was mostly thanks to the Other that she could not employ her stealth.”
“All according to plan.” Morgan muttered, closing his eyes again. “Now shush.”
He sent a wave of thanks after the disappearing Other, no need to be discourteous, and breathed as he patched up the hole through his body. It had deflected off a rib, which was a very strange sentence to use when lightsabers were involved, but as a result it had done more damage than it otherwise would have.
Ironic. Regardless, his improved constitution could handle it. Not forever, certainly not without issue, but enough to finish a fight. Or lose one, for that matter. Not that healing was a problem if that happened.
His reserves filled as the minutes slipped by, standing as a pained complaint reached him through the Force. Soft Voice smiled as his hand regrew, as skill Morgan was getting increasingly efficient at, and he left most of the other injuries alone. Those would heal regardless, and it was good practice for the man to heal himself.
The devaronian was insultingly bad at fleshcrafting, worse even than his apprentices, so it would be a teaching moment.
Lana’s good eye focussed on him, no hint of the pain she was no doubt feeling in her expression. He put a hand on her shoulder, letting her body figure out how to regrow the thing. Not something he was going to interfere with, even if it would be more cost-effective, but unlike himself she still had her soul-template.
“So, how’d you sidestep a mental attack?”
She touched the flesh around her regrowing eye, swallowing. “This feels strange. And I have my secret techniques, just like you.”
“It would appear so. First time I’ve ever seen you fight, I suppose. Properly, I mean.” He finished with her eye, realigning the spine with a vaguely worrying snap. Lana exhaled as the nerves were relaxed, pain disappearing with it. Morgan withdrew his hand. “The rest will heal on its own, or I can do so in a few hours.”
The sith Lord bowed her head in thanks, more hesitant than he’d seen her in a while. “Would it be possible to receive some basic lessons on fleshcrafting? Enough for initial self-healing, I mean. Nothing too advanced.”
“Of course.” Morgan replied, shrugging mildly. “I thought you simply didn’t care for it. We’ll start when our business on Belsavis is finished? I have plenty of prepared material that I sent over to the Enosis a while ago.”
Her expression flickered strangely, hidden as she turned towards Ekkage’s remains. “Most sith guard their power zealously, some small measure of it passed to their most favorite apprentice. Thank you.”
“You just fought a Darth on my behalf.” He snorted. “Soft Voice is stuck with me, what with his insolence and oath swearing, but you didn’t really have to be here. Still don’t, for that matter. It would be my pleasure to make an ally self-regenerate, especially so if they continue to fight at my side.”
Soft Voice hobbled over, which Morgan found extreme considering his legs were fine, and sent a hurt look his way. “Where’s my private tutoring?”
“You know as much as the Enosis does.” Morgan dismissed. “Not my problem you’re not even the best fleshcrafter there.”
The devaronian straightened. “I resent the accusation of me being lazy. And it's hard, alright? Much better time-management to increase my other strengths, leaving my injuries to passive regrowth.”
“I didn’t call you lazy, I called you incompetent.” Morgan corrected. “And if that’s true, why’d I have to heal you?”
“It is slow, stimulating recovery while you sleep. Not a surprise you haven’t heard of it, since it’s redundant when you can regrow limbs in half a minute flat, but it's the best most of us have. Not exactly enough to heal injuries mid battle, even if they last as long as this one.”
Morgan felt his stress drain as they bantered, leaving the room and its molten prisoner behind. Out and through the still inactive defenses, linking up with the Chosen stationed closest to the fight. Their sergeant informed him enemy contact had been met and soon afterwards repelled, though apparently Jillins wanted to report the full details in person, and Morgan nodded. Moved on as soldiers packed their gear.
His increasingly good mood drained when he came to the second line of defence, Jillins and two of his officers waiting. Three bodies laid next to them, covered in a sheet and tucked in a corner, and Morgan saw Imperial boots peek out from under them.
“Explain.”
Jillins straightened. “Sir. Approximately ten minutes after the entrance was barricaded and the doors sealed, four unknown sith forced their way inside. The delay of having to break through the outer gateway bought us time, allowing us to deploy the special unit you created, and battle was engaged soon afterwards.”
“Our men fought well, much better than the sith expected, but after two of the enemy number was killed they employed stealth. Area denial tactics were deployed, catching one, but the last managed to engage our line. Tomson managed to put her down, ignoring a telekinetic push and shooting her at close range, but not before she killed three.”
Morgan grimaced, looking over the wounded three-squad unit. His insurance for the mission, arranging it so his men had people capable of matching Force users. The best fighters, already with enhanced strength, reflexes and stamina, given prototype Siantide weaponry and resistance to the Force.
All but two of the the weapons taken from Taris, since the Enosis research and development department wasn’t getting anywhere with them anyway, and each of the soldiers had experience fighting Force users in the past.
“They were hungry for blood.” Morgan said, moving to the wounded Chosen. He healed them with a touch, having more than earned the respite. “Otherwise they'd have all gone stealth the moment the door was broken. Well done, each of you. Those weren’t some fresh sith or padawan jedi. They were the elite assassins of a Darth, a Dark Council member, and you made them look like flailing children.”
Spines straightened as he praised their efforts, swallowing a moment of guilt. Calling those sith elite was factually accurate, but they were also weakened from imprisonment. Made stupid by a lust for battle, arrogant to the end. Too eager to join their mistress to play it slow. Timmns might even have wounded them, though it was hard to tell after the fact. Still, some getting through the jedi was exactly why the Chosen had been here in the first place.
But that wasn’t what they needed to hear, and Morgan had no doubt Jillins would have them run through simulations of this battle for weeks to come. Morale was more important, especially now.
Jillins flickered his eyes to the men, nodding. “What’s our next objective, sir?”
“Now, captain, we go talk to a machine older than most species, hopefully barter for something useful, and get some rest after that. We’ve earned it.”