Morgan walked through the hallways of the Yamada, echoes of peace still lingering. Walked with a surety of movement that felt right, especially after his crippling state the past few weeks. Ever since Belsavis, really.
How strange that you only notice how bad something was after it vanished. Nonetheless, he was whole. Happy and content, though his rational mind knew that wouldn't last. Not this potent. And going back was a risk, even if he still planned to do it.
Maybe he could work something out with Star, but then repeated anomalies in the Tython vergence point would probably see the jedi call on their heavy hitters. The specialists that even the Other would have to be wary of, risking discovery if not death.
But that was for later. For now he had work to do, and the first step was to find Soft Voice.
Who, as he discovered, was gone. Off to do some mission, the details not mattering until the man needed help. Morgan nodded to the officer, the man bowing deeply before getting back to his job. Muttered to his fellows, confused at the feedback his senses gave him.
Lana was gone too, taking a number of ships and beating back an aggressive pirate horde, so Morgan supposed it was just him. The one in charge, though fortunately Mirla, Kala and Quinn were still here to actually run the place.
He rounded another corner, walking with less purpose and more feeling, and found himself encountering his apprentices. Apprentices which were accompanied by dozens of Enosis healers, the whole group falling silent as Morgan appeared.
“Master.” Alyssa greeted, bowing. It set off a wave, forty one souls itching to come closer. Translating to physical movement, unconscious steps and reaching hands the most common. The pureblood exhaled, shooting a look at her fellow apprentices. “The procedure has been a success?”
Morgan nodded, tilting his head as the other two calmed the group with harsh gestures. “It has. Yet it appears there has been an unreported side-effect. Care to share your perspective?”
“You feel warm.” His apprentice said, swallowing. “Comforting. Powerful, but less dangerous and more inviting. Your aura isn’t leaking, but I can feel it anyway. Feel it pull, some part of me insisting you are- Insisting you a-.”
The pureblood fell silent, shrugging helplessly. Morgan frowned, turning his attention inwards, but there was nothing out of place. He was doing the same as he had been for months and months, ensuring this presence didn’t spread beyond the body.
Jaesa and Inara got the crowd fully under control, which was something, but even then their souls pulsed. Fighting to come closer, to unite with the larger whole. Morgan hardened his defences, shutting off any and all access to it, and the effect lessened.
But didn’t disappear, which was concerning. At least no one seemed keen to touch him, which was good, but it was something he was going to have to keep an eye on.
“Right. Putting that aside, I assume this collection of fleshcrafters is gathered because we’re finally selling our services to the rich?”
“Indeed so, Lord.” Alyssa replied, indicating the group. “Most are here to learn, and since it would be very bad for advertisement if our first ever customers were to die, our best will do the operation in tandem. We only have nine individuals willing to risk it, regardless. At a million credits each, and taking the risk to travel here, they're desperate. The kind where nothing they have bought has alleviated or fixed their symptoms.”
“Well, if they are our first, we better ensure they tell all their friends. Vette didn’t have trouble finding and getting them here?”
Alyssa shook her head. “None that she has reported. Insisted many more will come once word spreads, since rich people rarely take the recommendations of anyone but other rich people.”
“I’ll have a look at them myself.” Morgan decided, moving forward. The patients were easy enough to find, their souls weak and trembling, so he moved inside. Found them in a well-appointed waiting room, raising an eyebrow at Alyssa. “Will the Yamada be the customary place for this?”
The pureblood shook her head, clearly finding that a redundant question. “No, Lord. Only until the proper facilities are completed. A cruiser is being retrofitted, I believe, and I can double check the details if you wish.”
“No need.” He waved, turning to the sick people. “Good afternoon. My name is Morgan, your healer for today. Your confidence in this program is heartening, and I’ll be personally ensuring your recovery. Please follow me.”
The group stood, confusion and indignation smoothed behind trained masks. Their aides helped them up, men and women of seven species in tailored clothes. Personal servants, he supposed, and well trained ones at that.
He led the slow collection of people to one of their amphitheatres, waving at his healers. Grown men and women, a rare few with medical experience, filled the room like students. Morgan turned towards the most sickly-feeling woman, an annoyed expression on her face.
Also the only human, which would make for a good baseline. Still, the rich old lady opened her mouth, and Morgan listened with curious attention. “I am Lady Vonth Meyers, heir to a dynasty lasting seven generations. I will not be used as a training aid to your students, let alone sacrifice my dignity after the price I paid.”
“I’m Morgan.” He introduced, bowing his head in greeting. “Sith Lord in open rebellion to the Empire. I claim to have killed two Dread Masters, a former Dark Council member and enough sith Lords the names escape me. Get on the table.”
Silence was his answer, creeping from one second to two, before recognition appeared in the woman’s eyes. Fear spread through her like the sickness sapping her strength, so he stepped closer. Put a hand on her shoulder, disconnecting the nervous system from her brain.
Lady Vonth Meyers collapsed, of course, but he caught her with telekinesis. Gently put her down on the table, her eyes widening as Alyssa showed him her chart. “This- The pain- Five years and no doctor managed to even take the edge of it. How did you-?”
“They didn’t help the pain because the problem is parasympathetic.” Morgan explained, shrugging. “In layman's terms, your nervous system is on fire. Incurable, not by conventional medicine at least, but then I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. We’ll try the easiest method first, which I expect will accomplish little, and move towards more specialised techniques after that. Should all else fail, for I will be honest and say I didn't even know this disease existed before reading it off your chart, I will put a threshold on your ability to feel. Should you experience a sensation approaching pain, the area will go temporarily numb. Not a good solution, usually, since it removes the ability to use the affected tissue, but it would work for you.”
He put his hand on her shoulder again, turning his gaze to the audience. “Now, I’m going to try and flood her system with healing energy first. A crude and wasteful application, but one that requires little skill and carries less risk. Efforts become less effective as you call on more and more power, since it starts to leave the body without accomplishing anything, but for most injuries it is sufficient.”
The Force came as he called, he twisted it into general purpose healing, and send it into her body. Not something he had learned on Korriban, this, and much closer to what the jedi used, but it worked fine. Usually.
Lady Vonth Meyers gasped as adrenaline spiked, the lines around her eyes relaxing. It did not, however, fix the issue. Morgan shrugged, letting go of the technique. “As expected, it didn’t work. I caution everyone here about relying on it overly much, lest you stunt your own understanding.”
“Pneumogray, and pardon me as I read off the datapad again, is a degenerative disease centered around the bones. Specifically, it poisons bone marrow. Which, producing blood cells, is doing a great amount of damage even kolto can only just about keep up with. Surgery would have to replace it with an artificial replicant, and she was deemed too unstable to operate. The pain stems from continued inflammation, which puts stress on various parts of the body. Without specific treatment this will kill the subject in a manner of weeks, and few survive longer than a year.”
Morgan concentrated, seeking out the infected marrow, and destroyed it. Destabilized the cell structure as he set healthy tissue to grow. “And now she’s cured.”
The woman blinked, confused, and he shrugged. Reattached her nerves as he flushed out the sickness, giving her a boost of vitality to counter the strain.
“I’m cured?” She asked, skeptical. “I’m going to have my doctors confirm that.”
He gave her an uncaring glance. “If you’d like. Hell, you can pay afterwards. I would strongly advise against trying to get out of it, however. Next.”
She got down from the table, surprised at her own strength, and he beckoned the next one forward. Fixed the trandoshan suffering from a genetic defect, then held up a hand as the third made to move forward. Pointed at one of the senior Enosis healers, a woman with nine years of medical experience before being taught fleshcrafting.
They didn’t have many of those, in fact there were only four, but each was a treasure. New at using the Force, yes, but combining both disciplines to great effect. Finding them was a priority for recruiters, but so far it had been slim pickings.
He oversaw her work, more as a show for the patients than any lack of confidence in her skill, and nodded at her technique. More targeted than his own, creating a cure than would fix the man over a period of weeks, but a good solution. An effective solution.
With each success the waiting patients grew more eager, two even paying before it was their turn, and Morgan wanted to shake his head. A million credits, for them, was hardly a fortune. Still expensive, otherwise Vette would have asked for more, but nothing that would cripple them. Spending it to increase their quality of life tenfold?
Morgen wasn’t surprised.
Soon enough the room was empty, only the second to last patient needing additional assistance in the form of soul patching, and all in all it took twenty minutes. Twenty minutes with breaks to lecture, letting less experienced healers try their hand. Jaesa took over and started her presentation, explaining how the program was going to work to the people actually working it, and he stepped to the side with Alyssa.
“Fortunate that you were here, Lord.” She said, her soul fighting to get closer. The pureblood, at least, had enough self discipline to not act on it. “Made for a good show of unity and influence. Lady Vette reported it is a relatively untapped market, only some washed-out jedi her competition, and was more than happy to expand her search.”
He snorted. “For a price, I bet. Good on her. Projected income streams?”
“Hard to predict, since it depends on word-of-mouth advertisement.” The pureblood shrugged. “That and the fact the Empire, sooner or later, will learn what we’re doing. Will try to stop it. Them or the jedi, though I don’t think the Republic as a whole will care. Mirla, however, estimated five hundred million a month once everything is up and running.”
“Is that enough?”
Alyssa wiggled her hand. “For expenses, yes. To expand? It will help. Warships are expensive to repair, let alone build, and dreadnoughts even more so. It will certainly allow us to keep going as we are without resorting to more drastic measures.”
“Well, good work. I’ll brief the three of you on my experience during meditation at our next training session, where we will work on connecting with Star, but for now it seems I have the powerup of our rakatan droid factory to oversee.”
His apprentice tilted her head, confused, and his datapad pinged some moments later. Showed the request being forwarded to his person, the man Soft Voice had put in charge urging him to take command.
Morgan frowned at it. “Alright, that’s new. Anyway, tell the others.”
He left her to it, moving back towards the public transport system ferrying people to and from the planet. Was intercepted by a very polite but oddly insistent non-Force using attendant, who’s soul didn’t seem drawn in the slightest, and got his own private shuttle.
Something he would have at least made a comment on, before, but now it didn’t seem worth the effort. Too many people were telling stories to too many others, none of whom had ever met him, and stopping it seemed impossible. Well, at least this one didn’t seem to want to touch him.
Small steps.
He watched the man’s soul as they travelled, comparing it to those of Force users, and made a mental note to write the results down. It was interesting how the soul thickened, yet not expanded, when using the Force. Almost like a reaction to channeling powers it wasn’t used to, which could explain why Force users grew in power over time. And why he himself was growing faster and faster.
Still not average, not for a sith Lord, but catching up. Slowly but surely, though his other increases in power meant he would always be playing against those with more. Morgan shrugged, nodding to the pilot as the soldier escorted him to the private vessel.
Was greeted by a captain, her soul seeming drawn again. Not so much that she lost decorum, fortunately, but he imagined she would have if he hadn’t been keeping up his active defences. Ironic, using protections meant for keeping others out to keep something in.
“Sir.” The captain saluted, two of her officers with her. None of them human, he was pleased to note. “Commander Ooris regrets his absence, yet found it necessary to delegate command of the operation to me until your arrival. The rakatan device has seemingly activated redundant security protocols, one of which consisted of a corruption module. Protocol demanded we maintain one squad of fully trained sith on the device at all times, which stunted its attempts at producing hostile droids.”
Morgan hummed, getting them moving by walking towards the shuttle. “Summon a battalion of soldiers who’ve never been within a hundred clicks of the artifact, then have them fetch everyone who’s been in contact. Every trooper, engineer and pilot back from when we first located it to now. Everyone. Those who resist will be restrained.”
One of her officers peeled off, moving to carry out the order, and the captain’s soul tightened. “Sir. Commander Ooris and I agree this was an unforgivable laps in both security maintenance and contingency planning, and we both offer our resignations for this failure.”
“Denied. This is rakatan technology, captain. Intact rakatan technology. Something like this was bound to happen, and if we’re pointing fingers the failure is mine. I cleared it for active use, I deemed it properly cleansed and I signed off on the protocols. Send the full report to Mirla, if she doesn’t already have it, and tell her to send Vette a copy.”
“Sir.”
Morgan stepped into the second transport to get to the actual site. Which, as per protocol, had been constructed on the other side of the moon. In a separate military installation, at that, with a significant investment of sith personnel. Four squads, each having completed the mental defence courses, and with mandatory screening from the best healers they had.
And it hadn’t been enough. Still, it would all be worth it. Worth it because two dozen war droids a day was one hell of an increase in firepower, since these wouldn't be limited by budget. No. Big, both humanoid and not, and capable of serving as mobile artillery installations. Good at following orders, if not creative problem solving, and nearly unhackable.
That was the theory, admittedly, gained from both his own impression back on Belsavis and initial testing, but it seemed solid. If only he’d done a proper job the first time around.
A more advanced lobotomy was required, clearly, and Morgan didn’t doubt he could do it. Better than on Belsavis, at the very least, and likely more. His understanding of souls, not to mention the deeper mysteries of the Force, had undergone something of a crucible, which he wasn’t ashamed to admit made him more able.
Not in a physical sense, perhaps, but then the Force wasn’t just used to enhance the body. He set the topic aside as they came closer to their target, making him turn to the captain.
“So, the following is going to happen. I’m going to walk inside, inspect those present, and we’re going to stay there until everyone has been personally cleared by me. It will be uncomfortable, more so for Force users than not, and it will be invasive. Inform them, please, and get the Aurora to monitor their activity. I am fully prepared to hunt down any runners. Like the commander, for example. Smart of him, to pretend, but not smart enough.”
The captain swallowed, nodding, and he turned back to the window. Enjoyed the view for a few minutes more, sighing as he narrowed his focus. Felt the tendril of corruption snake towards his soul, which he let happen. Let it make contact, grinning as it flinched back.
Traced the thing as it fled, breaking any resistance in his way. It had grown, clearly, and managed to keep its presence hidden. Fool the daily inspections, which was as impressive as it was annoying.
Located the proto-soul, the one he thought subdued, and shook his head at his own inexperience.
Did it properly this time, surrounding it whole and crushing from all sides. Felt it push back, a strong few seconds followed by weakness. Stopped just a hair shy of rupturing its barrier, feeling it surrender.
Poked holes, invading the hostile soul like he had done on Belsavis. Did so with much more finesse, actually understanding what he was doing. Tried to trace the threads attaching it to corrupted souls, feeling them shatter abruptly.
Punished the thing by ripping large parts of its personality away, effectively lobotomizing it. He’d been half-joking, but whatever. He felt little sympathy for those who tried to corrupt his people.
Didn’t finish it off entirely, because god knows how long it would take to replace it, but took manual control. Shut-off the droids it had already produced, which were being contained by the four sith squads stationed on the base. Then, finally, he shattered the module responsible for keeping it connected to its creations entirely.
Invited Star to double check his work, the Other arriving after a few moments of silence. Got judged passable, which was the highest praise he’d gotten for any soul related techniques yet.
Backed off, letting the proto-soul regain control. It was sluggish, tentative, but there was no anger. No rage or recognition. It seemed to accept his presence with the uncaring nature of a child, not knowing he wasn’t supposed to be there.
Good enough. Morgan left, returning his focus to the shuttle, and indicated the captain’s datapad. Made a note to have him summoned in a few days, personally, then periodically afterwards. It shouldn't be able to lie, not when he was literally inside its soul, but better safe than sorry. And, if it actually was able to construct a fake soul to fool him, it would have just taken over already.
He handed back the datapad, shrugging when the captain’s eyebrow quirked in curiosity, and left her to it. Killed a few more minutes as he went over the procedure, realising how easy it would be to do the same thing to an actual person. Was that how the Dark Council secured their own power?
No, there wouldn't be any infighting or rebellion if they could. Maybe Vitiate was able, but if he was the man had clearly chosen not to. Or was unable to for those that mattered, since the soul of a sith Lord was stronger than the proto-soul had been. Not in raw strength, perhaps, but in skill and resilience.
“There was an attempted escape.” The captain spoke, voice tight. “Sixteen people have been arrested, though the non-lethal weaponry did their job and no one died. It is currently unknown how many more are compromised.”
“Between forty and sixty. My order to collect all personnel that got in contact with the device stands. Inform Mirla I’m making it a fleet-wide priority.”
The captain swallowed, nodding, and did as ordered. Probably watching as the whole Enosis was thrown on high alert, and stressed because of it, but he shrugged. It would be good practice for all the new recruits, and the situation warranted it. Besides, Jaesa being their only reliable way of ensuring the ranks remained uncompromised was growing increasingly insufficient.
A wakeup call would drive the point home, allow them to practise with him as a safety net. Work to do, ancient tech to oversee, new abilities to restrain. He sighed.
It was going to be a busy few days.
----------------------------------------
“Don’t make me force the door, Pletr.” Kell warned, Gasnic more amused than he probably should be. Unintentional puns were one of his hidden pleasures, but this was a serious visit. “We know you’ve been hiding them, just like you hid us, and we only want to talk.”
Pletr groaned as she all but punched the door, the non-security entrance creaking. “Please leave. I don’t work as a safehouse anymore, and I want nothing to do with this madness the Master has convinced himself is necessary.”
Gasnic held up a hand, making Kell pause, and twirled his fingers twice. Take it down a notch.
Fine. “Pletr, we’re not with the Order anymore. You know that. We made sure you knew that. Actually took care of the hunter sniffing around, so you’re welcome. But if you don’t let me in, if you let me stand in this shitty weather, I’m going to lose my patience.”
He rather enjoyed the rain, actually, but to each their own. The door finally opened, a reluctant Pletr being backed-up by four Knights, and Gasnic figured that’s where his sudden confidence came from.
But testing their defences, little more than a cursory probe, showed how tired they were. Wounded and with low reserves, which supported their hunch that they’d been fighting. Kell rolled her eyes, barging forward.
The Talz cringed back, followed shortly by the Knights, and Gasnic walked in after her. Gently shut the door as Kell gave them an unimpressed glare, motioning for the most visibly wounded to sit.
Started healing the woman, which relaxed the other three, and Gasnic supposed violence wouldn't be needed. Which was good, because he wasn’t sure they’d win. Not against them and the other twenty down below.
One of the larger splinter cells they’d found, the entire branch going awol after the command came down to restructure. Took their nine padawans with them, at that, though Gasnic knew they weren’t here. On Tython, if they had any sense, and safe from the infighting.
The Master hadn’t taken their defection well, clearly.
Yundas, the former chapter leader, folded his arms and took a step forward. That answered the question on who was in charge now, at least. Gasnic mirrored the man, ensuring Kell had space to move while securing her flank.
“If you are here to help, you are welcome. Healing is appreciated, but in truth we simply need rest. Time to figure out our next step.”
Kell finished up with the woman, gesturing for the next one to sit down, and shot Yundas a look. “You need allies, is what you need. A greater whole to supply resources and information. We might be able to help with that.”
The Knight raised an eyebrow. “Direct as ever. We are still jedi, Kell. Tython would welcome us home, as would Coruscant.”
“If you wanted that, you’d be there.” Kell countered. “Wouldn't be hiding out on this deserted rock, nice as the fields look. You’re dissatisfied by their stance on emotional limitations, something our collective former Order didn’t much care about. We’re here to supply an alternative.”
“To recruit us, you mean. What if we aren’t interested?”
Gasnic tilted his head. “Then we go chase one of our three other leads and leave you to die on your own.”
“Harsh.” Yundas scoffed, expression opening up anyway. “But I suppose we don’t lose anything by inviting you for breakfast. Roof-rules?”
Kell nodded. “Anyone attacks, we band together. No violence from either party. Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
The group moved deeper inside as Pletr checked the door, his large body filled with nerves. Hiding jedi was never risk-free, especially in neutral territory where anyone could show up, but even then it was a bit much. Spooked by the recent fighting?
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Shrugging, and moving deeper inside, Gasnic joined Kell as they sat. Found a small living room cramped with jedi, most in deep meditation or covered in bandages. Both, for some. He even saw missing limbs, though nothing that would threaten their lives.
A good recruiting point, though, and he was happy to see Kell noted the exact same thing. Jedi healers could regrow limbs, though it was a fairly laborious task, and they’d most certainly need to go to one of the big temples for it. Maybe a travelling member would be sent, if they asked, but the odds were slim.
Some of the wounded would be fine with one hand, it didn’t hinder their fighting ability that much, but as a signing bonus? For those that lost a leg and needed prosthetics? It could be attractive. Especially so soon after having lost them.
Yundas came with soup and each of them drank, signifying host and guest relationships, and spoke after setting it down. “You are a straightforward soul, and I am the same. Tell me who you are recruiting for, and we will talk.”
“Lord Caro, the Enosis in a broader term.” Kell said, ignoring the tension that sprung up in the room. “We are, for the thick among us, recruiting for a sith Lord.”
Their host looked at them for a few seconds, grunting. “You do not jest. You are also not fallen nor corrupted. A sith Lord, however? One with a target on his back, a bloodthirsty reputation and powers bordering the Dread? One that grows so quickly he strikes fear into Masters decades older? I said we would entertain you, not commit ourselves to folly.”
“You raise some good points. Tell me, Knight. How did he get this target on his back? To whom has he been so bloodthirsty? I will tell you, because I was there. The Empire came to kill him because he was ensuring the most dangerous prisoners of Belsavis did not go free. Darth Ekkage, the Red Death. Four of six Dread Masters, allying with jedi Master Timmns to see it done, and more besides. He did more for the Republic in a week than some Knights do in a lifetime.”
“Sith infighting.” Yundas dismissed, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. “A power grab.”
“Concerning Darth Ekkage, perhaps. Yet she is dead. For the Dread Masters? What increase in position would be worth the wrath of the Emperor? It was his advisors Lord Caro killed, denying the Empire weapons so dangerous we didn’t dare kill them. Stopped a plot to drain the galaxy of life, organized by the very man leading the Belsavis prison break. Come then, you have more examples of his supposed depravity.”
“He killed Master Karr, corrupted his padawan t-”
“Karr fell, you know this just as well as I. If Lord Caro had not killed the man, our former Order would have. And unlike you, I have spoken to Jaesa Willsaam. She is not of the Dark, nor was she forced to anyone’s side.”
Yundas frowned. “You cannot deny he used Dark powers to twist a fleet into madness.”
“I can’t, nor would I.” Kell answered, Gasnic inspecting the people listening. Not exactly overjoyed, but outright denial was starting to turn into uncertainty. “And how quick you are to denote Dark and Light for one having joined an Order seeking the balance of the je’daii. Was that not our purpose, once? And you say he grows in power quickly? You’re right. So which would be the best time to join? Now, guaranteeing position and status, or when you’re just another in a crowd of thousands?”
One of the listening jedi piped up, on the younger side. Also missing his left foot, not looking all that happy about it. “I heard he can regrow limbs. That he rains fire on anyone who harms his people. That promotion is based on skill, techniques given not as a reward but to challenge yourself.”
Yundas send the man a glare, but the other wounded men and women were nodding. Some stopped themselves, a flash of guilt crossing their features, while others shrugged. It was one of the shrugging ones, with a hard look to his eyes, that spoke.
“I have killed and hunted for our Master, nineteen years of it. Hardened the Light in ways that felt counter to my training on Coruscant, set aside morals and opinion to serve my purpose. Let the Light take my emotion until I felt a shadow of myself. Now you say you know the answer? The end to our endless search?”
Gasnic answered by taking a breath, dropping his shield, and letting them see for themselves. Calling on the Force without expectation, streams of it fueling his body. Supple, flowing, and so very unlike either the Dark or Light. The older Knight stiffened, turning to Yundas with a frown.
Who himself was looking at it with wide eyes, Kell answering the unspoken question. “We won’t divulge how it is done, since it is not our secret to tell, but know that our training as jedi makes it near impossible without the key. The method. The moment we completed our padawan training, it became vanishingly unlikely we would ever find it.”
More and more jedi started looking curious rather than dubious, shooting questioning glances at their leader, and Yundas didn’t really seem to know what to say. Gasnic supposed denial would be the play, but Kell had a habit of speaking with confidence. Surety. And after a demonstration, well.
Yundas sighed, caving to the desire of his people. “I promised to hear them out, so hear them out we will. Speak, because I have concerns. A great many of them.”
Kell nodded, clearly suppressing a smile, and Gasnic moved over to some of the hardened jedi. Spoke with them, sharing stories or assuaging fears while promoting his cause. Not that he was terribly invested in this recruitment drive, but he did believe these people would be better off in Enosis ranks than not.
So if he could complete his mission while improving their lives, all the better.
----------------------------------------
Morgan smiled at the holographic image of Vette, clearly annoyed and frowning in the way that meant a great many people were about to get injured. Fortunately, she was very many lightyears away and it wasn’t his problem.
“And then, because the Goddess hates me, he offered his hand in marriage. Did it as if it was worth something, a great concession during negotiations. Honestly, I hate dealing with nobles. Still secured the shipping rights, though. One less resource chokehold for Ryloth to worry about.”
The smile slid off his face, something to which Vette grinned at, and he reached out to pinch her. “I know you enjoy needling me, but kindly refrain from putting the lives of everyone on the planet in danger because you felt bored.”
“The fuck.” She blurted, rubbing her arm. “Did you- Did you just use the Force on me? A fifth of the galaxy away and through my resistance?”
He nodded, pleased, and wasn’t going to tell her he could do little more than that. Enjoyed the righteous indignation as she complained about propriety and growth statistics, only seconds ago loudly proclaiming her wish to see nobility shot.
“So.” He interrupted, making her pause in her tirade. “Did you just go over there to be proposed to?”
“Nah. It was a good excuse to enter Pasaana territory, which let me get in contact with a smuggling ring there. A very profitable one, now under control of yours truly. Had to get a bit rough with them, sadly, but it was a good excuse to blood my new twi’lek recruits. Honestly, you’d think they’d be better fighters after fighting in an actual war.”
“Fun.” Morgan replied dryly, making her preen. “I gave you credit for isotope-5, by the way. Made me seem a tad less knowledgeable. Also makes you a lot of money, I’m guessing, but after the rather massive success of our joint healing operation I’d say the Enosis can afford it.”
Vette nodded, her lekku bobbing up and down. “I’ve actually had to reshuffle some of my more experienced people to handle the influx of patients. Fights broke out and everything, even started a bidding war. Seems you made an impression on Lady Vonth Meyers. Good choice, she’s rather influential in certain circles. You know, money is starting to mean less and less to me because of you.”
“You’d have built this on your own anyway.”
“I would have.” She allowed, shrugging. “But it would have taken time. Especially without the shield of belonging to a sith, which bought me quite a bit of fear. Oh, speaking of sith, did you know Baras tried to have me kidnapped?”
Morgan straightened in his seat, choking on his drink. “What? Don’t spring shit on me like that when you see me taking a sip, dammit.”
“Sorry, sorry.” She said, not seeming all that sorry. “But he did. Sent a whole gaggle of sithling assassins, buying passage for them from a very good smuggler. Unfortunately for Baras, he brokered the deal through someone who owes me a favor. Let’s just say we had a very good laugh as the would-be kidnappers were given faulty hyperspace coordinates. They can’t survive being flown into a sun, right? I’m pretty sure they can’t, but better safe than sorry. Also, intent being their weakness is such good information to know.”
He grit his teeth. “No, they can’t. Just ensure you actually watched them enter. And I’m sending you a few squads of sith. Use them as instructors or lampposts, I don’t care, but I don’t want one getting lucky. Not a singular one.”
“Peace.” Vette soothed. “You’re not the only one recruiting Force sensitives from Ryloth. I’ve got eight of them in the Valkyries, and Mirla and I worked out a deal. She sent me some trainers with instruction material, and they’re working fine. I won’t boast to be protected by sith Lords, but then I don’t think Baras will send those in the first place.”
Morgan relaxed marginally. “He might, one day, but he needs his resources. Losing the sith he already has will be bad enough, especially to someone without the Force. He’ll hate you, and might try to hire regular bounty hunters and the like, but he’s too busy dealing with the rest of the Council for anything more. For now, I should stress.”
“Regular threats I can handle. His influence outside Imperial space is as lackluster as expected, probably on the level of most syndicates. The normal ones, I mean, where they pay one of the big players to do their business. I suppose it's somewhat frightening he’s got even that much as a side project, but still. My full focus against his distracted efforts? Not that bad.”
“Yes, well, you leave sith stuff to me, I leave criminal stuff to you.” Vette considered that, finally nodding as if giving a great concession. Morgan pinched her again, enjoying the look of both fake-outrage and the way her soul delighted. “Anyway, the meditation was a success. I wish I could take you, I really do, and maybe one day I’ll be experienced enough to shield someone without blocking the sensation. Manually cycling it through you? Wait, could I make Force sensitives like that? I mean, if you think about it, the soul is all that matters. Attach threads to the shell, th-”
Vette waved her hand to grab his attention, rolling her eyes. “Consider your unethical experiments later, though I’m glad you’re feeling better. Would have hugged you if I could, but you locked yourself in your chamber of claustrophobia. No one considered me shaving you bald a valid reason for entry, either.”
“I can stimulate hair growth, and keep it short besides. How’s your sexist group of guards doing?”
“I was sexist when I made them.” She corrected. “They’re pretty chill when it comes to gender. And they are doing just fine, thank you very much. Got nothing else to talk about, huh?”
He grunted. “I’ve been not here for the past two weeks, thank you very much. I did correct a small rakatan rebellion, made everyone in high command upset by declaring it a fleet-wide priority, then mostly sat back as they fixed it. It's good for them to be self-reliant, you know?”
“I somehow doubt anyone was upset. Mildly annoyed, at most, and then you’d only know if you can look at souls like a dirty cheater.”
“Want me to tell you what yours does when I pinch you?”
Vette actually blushed, which was adorable, and changed the subject with as much subtlety as a crashing star. “I found another smith for your Beskar armour, one that’s amenable to be employed long term. Figured you’ll be going through the stuff quickly.”
“About that.” He said, letting her off the hook this once. “It's not really holding up to expectations. Lightsaber resistant, yes, and able to deflect glancing blows, but the opponents I fight don’t care for that. They go for the kill, center mass or headshots. Cripple me, maybe. And with the strength behind their blows, Beskar doesn’t do much. Actually makes the injuries harder to heal, since it doesn’t melt quick enough and forces me to push out fragments. It’s helped me in the past, but I don’t see it doing so in the future.”
“That’s a stupid decision.”
Morgan shrugged. “Maybe. But the body is just a vessel for the soul, and there is no damage that cannot be undone. No limit from which I cannot recover. Without the armour I’m faster, Soft Voice and I tested that with high-speed camera equipment, and my bones are tough enough to slow down lightsabers anyway. Too much pain for too little gain, in short. Maybe the technology hasn't matured yet?”
“I disagree with this.” Vette declared. “Officially and on the record. I also reserve the right to laugh at you when you come complaining about a lack of proper protection, but fine. I won’t pretend to understand this soul searching journey you went on, so if you say you don’t need it, you don’t need it. Also, matured?”
He smiled. “Thanks, and don’t worry about it. Future stuff that doesn’t affect us. I’ll talk to you tonight?”
She shrugged, waved then disconnected. He had only seconds of peace before someone knocked on the door, a major being sent by her colonel for clarification on a project Morgan vaguely remembered agreeing to, and he walked with the woman. A rather severe looking one, her soul none too impressed with him. Tibena, he recalled.
Career Imperial, transferring here shortly before the battle of Belsavis. Her uncaring nature didn’t change as they got to the hangar filled with soldiers, though there were plenty of others. Crewman and engineers, cooks and pilots. All, however, were military. And all had been enhanced.
A spot check, taken at random. His apprentices had taught others on how to reinforce people, though only the defence upgrade, and the application had spread. There really wasn’t a reason not to make his people more durable, after all, even if the risk of some third party acquiring the ability increased.
Very few had the knowhow, people or drive to actually implement it, though. The Empire could, as could the Republic, but neither would. The Empire for the same reason it did lots of stupid things, the sith wanted more power for themselves, and the jedi wouldn't stand for such an evil art being offered to Republic soldiers. Or perhaps they would, but simply lacked the control to learn fleshcrafting.
Either way, he was hoping it wouldn't force innovation.
The entire room shot to attention, he got to work, and as he did the major kept close. Shadowed him, almost, though didn’t say a word. Morgan put her out of his mind, checking the work on the enhancements, and turned to her after the first couple dozen anyway.
“Something I can help you with, major?”
“No sir.” She replied, tone exactly as polite as it should be. “Simply ensuring the wellbeing and security of my men, however temporarily under my command they may be.”
Morgan tilted his head. “Right. You don’t like sith much, do you? I have my fair share of bad experiences with them, and I know saying that I’m one of the good ones means exactly nothing, but if you dislike sith so badly perhaps transferring here wasn’t the best call.”
“Sir.” The woman’s lips pressed into a straight line. “I transferred here under colonel Pabri-”
“Pabrion Eknis, joining the Enosis a month before the battle of Belsavis. Managed to ensure his entire staff, including you, maintained their previous rank. Accepted oversight and restrictions on his own privilege in exchange, and does good work. You, major Tibena Hobbs, have been part of the Imperial military for twenty four years. Passed over twice for promotion before joining the colonel’s command, where you flourished. I keep up to date.”
Her forcefully neutral face didn’t change even as her soul flinched in surprise, the major answering in a clipped tone. “So it seems. I will follow orders, sir, but do not expect me to join those who feel you are the future. I have seen too many sith promise the same.”
“I never do.” Morgan replied, erecting a privacy screen. “And perhaps it would be a good idea to ensure that opinion isn’t heard by the wrong people. You are, to my everlasting if mild irritation, in the minority. Saying what you just did, for example, in a tone that could be considered rude while surrounded by soldiers. Well. Look for yourself.”
She did, her face finally cracking at the unfriendly looks she was getting. Those soldiers snapped their heads straight the moment she did, of course, but not fast enough. Tibena frowned, more angry than afraid. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
“Be sure that you do. You are dismissed, major.”
The woman saluted, leaving, and he got back to it. Send a message to her colonel explaining the situation, Morgan had very little wish for her to get stabbed, and grunted as yet another soldier was far too happy about being touched. It made him uncomfortable, honestly.
The work came to an end soon enough, luckily, and he only found two defects in all. Send that data off to his apprentices, who would be double checking the work of the one responsible. And signing him up for additional lessons, but that was beside the point. At least it was just the one. More, less thorough inspections would be performed as they went along. Mostly to ensure there wasn’t a particular weakness that would see hundreds of his people dead.
As it was, another chore down. It left him with some free hours, which he spent meditating with Star in his room, but nothing exciting happened. Just calm and reflection, trying and failing to feel the energy in metal again. A difference between the source of ore?
Not in the right state of mind, he finally decided, though he had to choose if he would pursue it. Becoming a crafter, creating metals stronger and more durable than Beskar, would be useful. But it would also be a time-investment, a project that had no guarantee of success.
Better to focus on the actual Force, since he was sure he could wring a little more power out of his reinforcement. His regular one, that is, though it had mostly blended with fleshcrafting these days. Becoming so efficient it counted as passive strength, though it wasn’t quite good enough for the level he was fighting at.
With how pure the Force had felt in the nexus point, though, he was sure he could improve it. Streamline it. The technique was as flawless as he could make it, which admittedly didn’t mean much, but the fuel was another matter. If he could refine his connection so only the most pure could get through…
Morgan shook his head, dropping the idea. Nothing he had seen suggested the Force had levels of purity, only agitation. Tython was just unusually calm, and that wasn’t something he could replicate.
His datapad chimed as the alarm went off, also informing him that both Lana and Soft Voice had returned while he meditated, and he stood. Stretched nearly twenty hours of stillness out of his body, the Force making mobility-restricting cramps a thing of the past.
Freezing briefly, he sent an apology to Vette. Forgetting a meeting he set was definitely going to get him shit, he already knew it. Damn the Force and its habit of messing with his sense of time.
He set out, making his way towards the shipyard. Took a shuttle and ignored the passengers, who ignored him in turn. Honestly, stealth was the greatest skill he’d ever learned. Top five at the least. Letting him not bother with people when he didn’t want to was heavenly.
Almost managed to sneak up on Soft Voice, too, though the devaronian noticed him at the last moment. Still got within ten feet, which the man’s security certainly didn’t like, but they got waved down.
“Done with your whatever-you-where-up-to?” Morgan asked, leaning against the wall. “Disappearing while I was asleep like some one night stand, honestly.”
Soft Voice finished signing a datapad and handed it off, turning. “You’ve never had a one night stand, so don’t pretend you know what it's like. You seem better.”
“Feel better, too. Meditated on Tython, properly cleansed my soul. I’m taking you and Lana with me, next time. Trust me, it's worth it.”
“Does it involve brushing against the Other?”
“Probably.”
“Then I’ll have to pass.” The devaronian said, shrugging his shoulder. “My meditation is done old fashioned, which is where you physically travel to where you want to do it. Lana wishes to speak with you, by the way. Something about her pirate suppression mission turning up an opportunity. And yes, she was as vague as that with me. Did seem agitated, though.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Then I suppose I’ll go see her. Know where she is?”
“The bridge of the Yamada, talking with captain Ikkus. Something about borrowing command of the ship, testing out the new engines on a combat run.”
He shrugged and made his way there, slipping into stealth again as he took a transport. Lana had greater awareness of her surroundings, having spent more time on her own than not, so he only made it to the bridge before she turned to him. Not that he tried his very hardest, but it was good she was well-rounded.
She also didn’t break her conversation with the captain, making him wait, and he amused himself both with the view and how increasingly nervous said captain was getting. A Force user, though not a particularly skilled one, and he clamped down on his defences again.
That whole soul attraction thing was starting to get really annoying.
Did it count as mind control? It influenced their behavior, true enough, but he wasn’t doing anything. It was their souls that responded to him, not him affecting theirs. He was still thinking about it when she turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
“What?” Morgan asked, not bothering to turn. Her soul was expressive enough, anyway. “You asked for me, remember?”
Lana walked closer, face going from a small frown to neutral to a more pronounced frown. “Why is your soul making mine vibrate?”
“Side effect of meditating on Tython, I think. That or I’ve crossed some initial threshold with Star. I’m taking care of it. More importantly, why am I here? And why are you slipping back into bad habits and playing power games?”
“Says the man making me walk over like a servant.”
“I am, as ever, a mirror. You make a dominance play and I’m more than happy to compete. And we both know if I choose to push, I can push. What’s going on?”
Lana was silent for a moment, sighing. “Me and four of our destroyers chased a group of pirates invading the access lanes, the ones we use to get people here, and managed to track and destroy seven. Cheap, converted haulers that just about managed to scratch our plating. When we won three more fled. We followed them, hoping to find their base of operations. We did.”
“Turns out they were hired by the Octavian Mining Group, a wild-space resource collection conglomerate. Their headquarters were pretty close, though I had to look them up. Mostly do what their motto and name suggests, acquiring raw resources for a competitive price. Cheap enough, in fact, that we took a closer look. I’m thinking you can guess what we found.”
“Slaves.” Morgan grunted, eyes narrowing. “Lots and lots of slaves.”
She nodded. “Of two kinds. The labor is both droid and organic based, and conditions are about as brutal as corporate boards could make it. All in the name of profit, of course, and damn the suffering. Second kind might actually be worse, even if the physical suffering was less. Their headquarters are staffed by indentured servants, born with debt and spending their lives working for the company. Low and mid level, mostly. That’s all we could get before they jammed our scanners and listening arrays, but safe to say suicide rates where high enough the architecture was modified to prevent it.”
“How many?”
“Several hundred thousand in their headquarters, few million more spread around on various mining sites. Have their own private military, planet, combat ships and defence-installations, which was why I backed off. Figured we take the Yamada and show them what proper military firepower looks like.”
Morgan nodded slowly. “That and more. Captain, summon me the Reborn. It is time for colonel Ellarius to show if his budget increases have been fruitful. Inform Jillins I have need of the Chosen, and fetch my apprentices. Prepare the Yamada for departure, and only her. It will be enough, and I wish to see her new speed without being slowed by an escort.”
Captain Ikkus saluted, barking at his staff, and Morgan turned back towards the window. The Yamada would be emptied of non-combat personnel, her isotope-5 engine prepared and fighters made ready. Filled to the brim with soldiers already having proven their aptitude for chain-breaking, the Chosen there as his fist.
Slavery would not be tolerated.
----------------------------------------
Lana ignored the shifting Force as they entered hyperspace, the process smoother than she’d ever felt it. Lord Caro was standing next to her, not having moved after his speech even forty minutes later, and she kept her features schooled even as she berated herself.
She had been annoyed at her inability to do anything, especially after images of cramped slave-offices had been acquired, but he was an undeserving target. He even called her on it, which had been an unpleasant surprise, but back then he had seemed calm. Mellow.
Which disappeared the moment he’d made up his mind, her Force Acuity shrieking in alarm. Years she spent refining that technique, ever since the concept came to her on Korriban, and now it curled away in pain.
Because the Force shifted as Lord Caro committed himself, like it had as they entered a different dimension, and she couldn't make sense of it. Hadn’t felt anything near this influence from him before, not even after Belsavis.
“Deployment completed in thirty one minutes, my Lord.” Captain Ikkus reported, saluting as he came closer. Lana had to admit Morgan cut an imposing figure, standing calm and still as the bridge swarmed with activity, but there was no need for the man to feel nervous. “Fighters, crew and passengers all accounted for.”
“Very good, captain. Estimated time of arrival?”
“Seven hours, sir. Nearly thirty percent faster than the engines managed before.” His tone was almost in awe, though Lana could tell it wasn’t for the sith himself. “The same for regular acceleration and maximum speed. Pardon the presumption, my Lord, but it will guarantee our independence.”
Lord Caro nodded. “For now. Until some of our ships get captured, stockpiles stolen, what have you. This is and was never meant as a permanent boon, which admiral Kala is aware of. It will spur our growth, let us win some early victories, but do not become reliant on it.”
“Understood, sir.”
Lana flicked her hand as the captain hesitated, dismissing the man. This was delicate enough as it was, and she didn’t need a sycophant complicating matters. Her mood deteriorated further as she paused, wondering why making things right was so important.
Examined her soul, seeing it push and pull towards the other sith. Clamped down on her emotions, which lessened the effect, and kept her expression even. “You are aware people might react unfavourably if this continues?”
“I am.” He turned to her, sighing. “I’m working on it. Until then, this would be a good time to continue our fleshcrafting training. You’re getting close to the adept level, which I’ve just made up and doesn’t exist. Come.”
She followed as they left the bridge, traversing crowded hallways and making for one of the training rooms. Somewhat unnecessary, since all either of them did was sit still, but perhaps he wanted to spar afterwards. Lana rolled her shoulder, finding that agreeable.
It had been a little while since she could do so without restraint.
Whatever else he was, Morgan was the perfect sparring partner. Tough, self-healing, skilled and unafraid to punish weakness. Someone who adapted quickly to tricks and pushed her own skill forward.
Rare to find people to do that with, especially while being able to trust them. That let her grow without documenting every weakness, happy enough to share his own power.
Well, she wasn’t that naive. He shared it because he wasn’t threatened by her, which Lana was forced to admit was fair. He might not be able to kill her, assuming she had space to move, but her killing him? No. Not even before this recent change.
She put it out of her mind as they arrived, joining him on the floor. Breathed and centered herself, nodding when she was ready.
Tried her best to keep up as he cycled through the exercises, going from easy repetition to harder variation quickly. Didn’t insult her by taking it slow, which was good, but it did push her. Hard.
Then, after being corrected on some minor issues, he offered his hand. Lana knew what was coming, the man’s apprentices had even warned her about it, and was still unprepared. Stiffened as he invaded her body, the Force twisting in ways she wasn’t used to. Threads splitting and weaving, destroying and invading. A crude counter-attack was ignored, unravelling as it touched his skin, and Lana grunted.
Did her best to keep him out, her limited skill pushed past its breaking point. Her defences shattered, the weave keeping her body safe breaking, and he pulled back. Not, however, before his power shot through her. At which point, she knew, he could turn her brain to soup in moments.
Well, she had other defences, but this was meant to train her fleshcrafting. Control fighting against control, using skin and bones and muscle as a medium to battle. Morgan gave her a moment, nodding afterwards. “Again.”
Lana offered her hand, weaving her defences tighter, and fought. Adapted and learned, even if this was past the point where her experience could help her. Force Acuity had shown her insight into the art that skyrocketed her growth, but this was different. She could see his defences, his attacks, but that meant nothing if he brushed aside her attempt at rebuffing them.
Less still as he seemed to figure out she could do so, making them more complex to strain her senses. More complex in a way that added little to their effect, at that, but made it near impossible to figure out what it was supposed to do. Trading efficiency for her ability to predict.
He pulled back again, leaving her weave intact. “Good. Evaluate your own abilities.”
“Growing.” She replied, ignoring back the instinct to remark on his tone. He was the teacher, for now, so she supposed he got to be in charge. Lana sighed. “But honestly, I think we’re running up against my limit.”
Morgan smiled. “We are. It's good you recognize your own limits, since it's the only way to pass them. We can work on implementing some proper techniques as you continue to practise on your own. Enhanced strength, increased flexibility, regeneration, reflexes. All should be within your grasp, though they will require practice.”
“Enhanced strength like what you have? The energy one?”
He shook his head, calling on it, and she focused on his arm. Saw how he repaired thousands of microscopic injuries every moment it was active, even then unable to keep up with the damage being done. Close, but unable. Her senses groaned and she shut off her technique, shaking her head as pain made itself known.
“Reflexive regeneration.” He repeated. “No way can I focus on both that and my opponent, so I trained myself to heal during activation. We can work up to it.”
Lana smiled, nodding, and checked her soul again. Found that it was calm, meaning her improved mood wasn’t artificial. Which was almost worse, in a way. He didn’t demand anything for this, for sharing his power, and it made her feel bad. Which served to keep her at his side better than anything she could think of, at that.
“Let’s get started.” He said, clapping his hands. His knife unsheathed, hovering over his shoulder. “First, self-healing. This is going to hurt.”
She was no stranger to pain, shrugging, and suppressed another smile as it shot forward. This. This is why she survived Korriban.
The thrill she felt at her growing power.