Value Loyalty Above All Else [Star Wars]

His weapon swept left then right, clearing the room as his team crept forward. His slicer connected to the elevator and gave him a thumbs up, making his breathing slow.

The other four members of his squad followed him as the doors opened, crouching low and keeping their weapons ready. Two gestures and both grenades and EMP's were readied, thrown the moment the door would open. He was considering every single person here an enemy, damn the mission directive.

Still, his contractor would be cross if he'd killed the target. Better avoid that if he could, though not at the cost of his own life. No one could pay him enough for that.

The door opened and explosives were thrown, uncaring if the hallway was empty. It wasn't. Soldiers died and droids fell as he opened fire, two of his team walking forward. Amorac interfaced with one of the droids, taking a few seconds longer than he should have, and nodded. Their target was here.

Balec smiled thinly, finishing off the wounded man. Republic uniforms were a complication he'd been warned about, as the fact Imperial one's could be fighting with them, but that was fine. He cared little about one side or the other, less for their motivations and would do his job just fine either way.

More soldiers died as he advanced steadily, glancing at his hud. Shields where holding and armour integrity was fine, just as he liked it. He tapped his foot as the door was sliced open, rolled his eyes as someone tried to engage with a vibrosword. He shot that one twice as he fell, because who uses swords?

"General Gonn, I'm happy to report that jedi knight Xerender has landed safely on Hoth. I saw to it personally."

Belec raised an eyebrow as he listened, just out of sight. Must have been an important meeting for them not to stop, though sending the all-clear signal should have helped. Amorac had been worth the cost, he decided. Good slicers usually where.

"You are a valuable asset to the Republic, Fawste. Someday the rest of the chiss will follow your lead."

Chiss? He liked chiss, they had the most interesting stories. Or maybe that was his bias speaking, since he never quite could get her out of his head. He must be going soft, falling for an escort like that. She was softer still, though. He shook his head.

He was working, and he hadn't survived this long by being careless. A nod and the door hissed open, sedatives canisters and stun grenades rolling inside. It closed immediately after, having been unlocked for half a second. Muffled panic spread as he counted, grunting as his slicer giggled.

A sadist, great. Hadn't put that on his resume.

He gave it twenty more seconds before nodding, finding all but two having succumbed. Their target was one of them, unfortunately, and glared over the mask pressed to his face. The second was the chiss, backed into a corner and cowering. Shameful.

"You. I know who you work for. Baras didn't even send his apprentice for me? I should be insulted."

"No clue who that is." Belec shrugged, drawing and shooting in one smooth motion. The chiss died with a short scream. "Nor do I care. Disarm, or we get nasty. Well, Elisa will. I'd recommend against it, but maybe you're into that sort of thing."

Karastace Gonn dropped his weapon as his people secured the room, taking care of the sleeping soldiers. The man flinched every time a weapon fired, but otherwise remained composed. Hard man, that. "You might be interested in who gave you this information."

"I'm really not. Hold still." His medic walked up, shoving the scanner against the man's wrist. "Just making sure you won't die from the carbonite. Some people are allergic, did you know? Not making that mistake again."

"You're capturing me. Why? What does the sith want?"

"Don't know, don't care. My orders come from a syndicate, though, not from sith. Don't do business with those insane fuckers."

"Ah." Gonn nodded, relaxing further. "I think I understand. If this is a question of money, we can come to an arrangement. I've quite the emergency fund."

"Pass. He ready yet?"

"Ten seconds, captain."

Belec grunted, rolling his eyes as the man opened his mouth again. When will people learn? "I can make you rich. Rich enough you won't have to take another contract for as long as you live. This could be your last job, forever."

"You don't get it, do you?" He fired the moment Amorac went for his pistol, raising his eyebrow. A sadist and stupid, just his luck. The rest of his team shook their heads, making him nod. "Better. I like money, I do, but this isn't about that. You see, Republic man, the reason people hire me is because I live for this. The chase and thrill, the fire in my veins and the feeling of a gun in my hands. Dose him."

His target moved as Elisa sprayed him, not getting out of the way fast enough. He fell with a loud thunk, the carbonite already hardening, and Belec activated his comms. "Package secured, eta two minutes."

He couldn't resist a jaunty whistle as he watched the man get picked up, turning around. No feeling like a job well done.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Morgan strode into the room with Jaesa at his side, a dozen Chosen on his heels. One's he didn't know, at that, though all were as serious as the ones he did. Captain Jillins's fault, no doubt, but he shook his head. He'd asked for an army that could fight hard, the man delivered. He had no right to complain about their personal feelings.

Not even if they verged on the religious.

"My Lord." Moff Hurdenn bowed, a small smile on his face. "A pleasure to meet you. I have never had cause to assist Darth Baras before, but I have long been an admirer of his work. And yours, of course. How may I be of service?"

"I doubt he came all this way to be fawned over."

The moff glanced at the mountain of a man, blinking. "Of course. May I introduce lieutenant Pierce, on loan from one of our notorious black ops divisions. He is hands down my finest officer. I give you exclusive reign of him while you are on Taris, which I trust will accommodate your every need."

Ah, that was why the man had seemed familiar. Jeasa leaned over, voice so quiet he barely understood a word. "A wolf not yet tamed, finding thrill in the hunt. Biting at the hand that feeds him, which happens often. A loose cannon, Master."

"Thank you, moff Hurdenn, but his services won't be needed. As you can see, I brought my own soldiers."

"So you did." The moff's eyes tightened, ever so slightly, but the smile stayed. "May I ask how we can be of help? Accommodating some four thousand men won't be an issue, I assure you."

Morgan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was sure Baras wouldn't mind that at all. "I won't strain your resources unnecessarily. We are fully provisioned and able to establish our own camp, rest assured. The information?"

"I was planning to leave this to the lieutenant, you understand, but I will be happy to assist more directly. Pierce, you are dismissed."

Instead of leaving the man took a step forward. The Chosen tensed, as did Jaesa, but Morgan put a hand up. "Think carefully, soldier, before you say a single word."

"I can be of great help." Pierce insisted, eyes flickering to the soldiers. "More so with their strength coursing through my veins. I did my homework, acquired the location of general Frellka's supply convoys and worked out a plan. I can be a great asset, don't be so foolish to throw that away."

Morgan raised an eyebrow, uncharacteristically annoyed. He had far too much on his plate to keep an eye on the man, his skills weren't needed and Jaesa's warning was clear enough. Instead of acting himself, he waved his hand.

Two Chosen surged forward, grabbing the man and wrestling him to the floor. Pierce fought back, and hard, but even his bulk couldn't quite manage it. Morgan looked down, meeting the man's glare. "Normally I pride myself on being appreciative, to accept help when it is offered. But not today, so it will limit itself to sparing your life. Drag him out, and if I see him again, shoot him."

He turned back to the moff, who watched in silence, and the man bowed his head. "You have my most sincere apologies. I will ensure the lieutenant is punished accordingly, my Lord."

"Don't care. The information, if you please. Preferably in writing."

The man beckoned an aid and handed him the datapad, making Morgan nod his head. That done he turned, striding out of the room as Jaesa caught up. "The moff feels slimy but cowed, I don't think he'll try anything."

"That's my assessment as well. Quinn pick a site yet?"

"Twenty flicks away, clear ground. Why didn't he pick one of the forts already here? Taris is littered with them."

Morgan raised an eyebrow, idly watching the moff's people scurrying around. How strange, one little title and most of life's small annoyance evaporated. "Been here before?"

"Once. I was barely trained then."

"We all start somewhere. Mine started in a hole populated with a sadistic sith overseer, training droids and murderous acolytes. Taris doesn't seem so bad in comparison. To answer your question, because they leak. Better to build fresh and control all the variables, especially if you have the materials."

His Chosen swept forth and secured the ship, Morgan boarding with a last look around. Probably the last time he was setting foot on already established Imperial ground. Those months his blackmail had bought were running out, quickly, and he was taking no chances. Which was why he didn't complain as two fighters rose into the air the moment he did, escorting him for a whole three minutes.

A minute of that was the pilot making sure their landing space was clear, according to his instruments it wasn't, and when they landed again Morgan relaxed. Being back among his own people felt good, and something he was getting comfortable with.

The camp wasn't too big, of course. Not for the full four thousand. But Quinn had assured him they needed a staging area for the Chosen, those he would be leading into the field, and shuttling them down from the ships wasn't an option. Two more orbiting Taris wasn't so big a deal, nor was half a day of ferrying soldiers and materials down, but constant back and forth would draw attention. The kind that might make the War Trust nervous, and they couldn't have that.

Vette waved as he entered the command tent, his escort peeling off. Morgan nodded to her, and to Quinn, and smiled as she demanded a hug. "How was the moff?"

"Fine. Subservient, which was convenient, though one of his men got pushy."

She hummed. "Do I need to arrange another kidnap job?"

"I managed." Morgan murmured, burying his face in her neck. Being apart for a month and a half had only just about been bearable, nevermind fun. Quinn didn't seem to care, and he was the only one in the tent. Indulging was fine. "Contemplated shutting him down, but I outsourced the issue. The mission went well, then?"

"One elusive, highly decorated Republic general frozen and on route. Should be here by evening. Before you ask, he's unharmed. Just like you wanted."

"Knew I could count on you." He praised, tilting his head. "Though I'm not sure what that message was about."

"That was yesterday, and not meant for you."

"Then why did it show up on my datapad? Under your contact, no less."

Vette sniffed, turning away. "Miraka thought she was being funny, conveniently forgetting the consequences of her actions. Nothing for you to worry your handsome face about."

"You do more for me than I can ever repay, you know that. I would like to help if I can."

"I know." She made a show of standing on her toes, kissing his cheek. "But I'm a big, independent pirate queen that doesn't need no man to save her. Also, ignore any news you might hear about a vicious, bloody uprising on Ryloth. Definitely nothing to do with me."

"Do you need to leave again? You just got here."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, you big softie. I just said it has nothing to do with me."

"Meaning she ordered her people to do it, using mine to help plan the whole thing." Quinn cut in, apparently growing impatient. "Not complaining, it was good practice for my officers, but we can't have anything to do with it now. Does anyone mind if we get started?"

"Yes colonel sir. Good soldiers follow orders."

Morgan stepped forward, smile slipping off his face. "Just so. Here's the information Hurdenn gave me, though I'd prefer independent confirmation."

"What was that?" Vette turned to him the moment Quinn looked away, whispering loudly. "Something I said?"

"Nothing important, don't worry."

"Seemed important. Made you stop smiling, in fact, so might be something I have to spill blood over."

"Good soldiers follow orders." He repeated, shrugging. "Made me remember something, is all. Don't pout, it's unbecoming."

It remained, through her eyes narrowed. "This have anything to do with your knowledge dream?"

"Stop calling it that. And yes, but like I said, it doesn't matter."

"It mattered in the past." She pointed out, tilting her head. The pout disappeared, though her face only became more curious. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine."

"It won't happen for thousands of years, if at all, so it really doesn't matter."

Vette's eyes widened, though she tried to hide it by turning. "Oh, right. That. Kind of wish you hadn't told me that bit."

"You kept nagging." He mocked. That hadn't been a good conversation, especially over holo. "Even after I warned you. Something about it being depressing, irrelevant and moot, if I recall."

"Irrelevant and moot mean the same thing. Also, Quinn is doing that thing again where he pretends to be busy while waiting on you."

Morgan turned away from her, huffing, and suppressed a smile as she leaned against him. "What do you have, colonel?"

"The moff's intel was good. All four War Trust generals are on Taris, meaning they're planning something big, and one lieutenant Pierce collected actionable intel. A rather sloppy report, I will say, with more details missing than I would allow. Can I expect him to be working with us?"

"You cannot."

"Understood. It seems he found and interrogated a republic scout, securing the supply route for general Frellka. A junior member of the Trust, though not one that is to be underestimated. My scouts confirmed several heavily armed Republic caravans running along carefully staggered routes."

"So quickly?" Morgan looked at the holographic table, showing nearly a thousand souls scurrying about. "Camp's not even finished."

"Intelligence is the lifeblood of warfare and always the first order of business. My scouts have been setting up stations, patrols and informants before we ever arrived. If we hit the caravan we could pull the transponders, triangulate their destinations and find the general. We only get one shot at that, too. No sane commander will ignore an attack that direct."

"Other Imperial elements?"

Quinn waved his hand. "Nothing to worry about. We're not the largest out here, or even the best supplied, but everyone is too occupied with hindering the Republic. And wasting their potential, in my opinion, though I can understand not letting it fall into their hands. The Empire can't afford to give them a staging point so close to Dromund Kaas, and Taris would make a good one. The bombing was severe, yes, and most of the planet lies in ruin, but the deeper foundations are still intact. It would cost less to build one here than almost anywhere else."

"Resistance on the caravans?"

"Heavy, though manageable. We'll have to hit them all at once, something that isn't going to be easy. I'd recommend splitting our forces, we'll need four if we are to manage it, and that you focus on the third." Quinn pointed to a section of land, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. "It is the most heavily reinforced, possessing two tanks and no less than three hundred men, and will need to be crushed quickly. All of them will, of course, before they can overcome signal jamming, but they are the ones most likely to succeed."

Morgan nodded, shifting his footing. Vette grumbled, shifting her own stance to match. "I'll go alone. Concentrate on the other three, and take my apprentices. One for each assault, I should say, but I leave that up to you. Jaesa might hesitate on killing Republic uniforms, though I've worked with her on that, so maybe give her something non-critical to do."

"Alone?" Vette looked at him, abandoning her datapad, and scowled. "I thought we were over that particular issue."

He smiled, taking off his gauntlet. She raised an eyebrow as he took her hand and put a thumb on his wrist, smiling wider as she recoiled. Two heartbeats thrummed in sync, low and strong, and he took a moment to strengthen himself.

Lightning surged in his veins as his eyes glowed, dim but noticeable, and he had to resist the urge to fidget. "I have some advantages, these days. A secondary heart is one, short bursts of massive strength another. Testing will do me good, the tanks should suffice, and even if not my skin is blaster resistant. To a point, I will admit, but better than it used to be. No explosive will tear me apart, not one that also can't tear apart a building."

"Oh. I'll need to examine that later."

Morgan smile turned to a grin. "Didn't know you'd become an expert on fleshcrafting."

"I can always not, if you insist."

"How often are you gonna play that card? You know it doesn't work."

"I can play what I damn well please. You, for instance. See, maybe I found a boyfriend when I was gone. It was very lonely, don't you know?"

"I'd have to kill a few people." He shrugged, leaning over her. She leaned forward, just slightly, and he chuckled. "Maybe a city or two. Spurned lovers always get so jealous."

Vette cleared her throat, blushing adorably. "At least you're not insecure anymore. Quinn, you traitorous fiend, mind giving me a distraction?"

"There is the matter of our goal." The man admitted, as if reluctant to help her out. "The fact we are committing treason, namely."

"Only technically, and not yet. Actually, no, we are. Baras ordered general Gonn killed, not captured. Fair enough. Your question?"

Quinn shrugged, indicating the map. "Why we are doing it. Darth Baras is powerful, yes, but has people that can keep him in check. Darth Marr fights against anyone messing with the military, too many Lords and Darths want to see Baras humiliated or dead, but the man answers to another. Which is the problem, seeing as Darth Vengean is a member of the Dark Council. One word from him, we hang."

"Very true. He is also a warmonger, traitor and soon to be dead man. Baras is, in true sith fashion, scheming for the man's downfall."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Morgan looked at the man. "No, it doesn't. We are committing treason because I will not be the man to spark the next war, billions dead before it ends the same as it always does. Don't mistake me for a pacifist, there are times when there is no alternative, but I will not condemn death on that scale for ambition and pride. I will not go to war for a cause I do not believe in, nor risk those I love under anyone else's banner. We are buying time, ensuring my master and his don't get their glorious conquest, and we are going to survive. Is any of that a problem, colonel?"

"No, my Lord." Quinn said, bowing his head. "It is not."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

He ignored the soldiers as they scrambled to their feet, the whole room going at attention. Morgan waved them down with a nod to their lieutenant, the woman nodding so low it seemed like a bow, and everyone went back to what they were doing.

Or pretending to, anyway. He walked through them to his destination, the sparring rooms at the end, and disappeared from sight. He could feel the tension bleed away as his Chosen got back to relaxing, preparing and eating, wishing he could have hidden from them too. But their reinforcements made them sensitive to the Force, enough so they could notice something was wrong, and he had no wish to set the base on high alert.

He opened the door and let his amusement bleed into his tone, watching two heads turn. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, my Lord." Inara let the pureblood go, managing a clean bow. Alyssa less so, seeing as her hands were bound. She tore the bindings apart quickly, making him suppress a grin. "Not at all. How can we be of service?"

Morgan shook his head, tone light. "At least let her catch her breath. Terrible aftercare, that. Are you sure I should not come back?"

"No, no. Please, stay." Alyssa coughed, voice returning to normal. "We were just practising on how to best escape capture, is all."

"A sound idea. Perhaps I can be of assistance as a stronger captor? It is my job to teach you both, after all."

They exchanged a panicked look as he kept his face pleasant, Inara's eyes searching for a way out. "It is something we are managing well on our own, Lord."

"Of course, of course." He knocked on the door, an inch above the lock. "Perhaps, for next time, you will remember to secure your privacy. As for the reason I'm here, I wished to go over the assault with you both. And to inform you there will be an assault. One where you will be splitting up, in fact."

Their faces turned from embarrassment to confusion, the pureblood speaking up. "We function well as a pair, Lord. Far better than apart. You yourself helped us connect, blending our Force powers together properly."

"Indeed I did, and I stand by that. I asked some jedi friends of mine, see what they thought, and it seems not even they manage as well as you two have. Combining powers is far from rare, an essential tool for jedi Knights, but you two seem to do it better than Masters. You are also growing to rely on it, no matter how powerful a tool. For this mission you will be going separately, though not alone."

They didn't like that much, clearly, but nodded all the same. Good. Morgan indicated the floor, sitting himself, and held out his hands. Alyssa tilted her head. "Goal?"

"Keep me from going past the elbow." He decided, taking a moment. "And give it your all. Fleshcrafting, as I have learned, is the gateway to some very powerful abilities. The better you learn, the faster you'll have access to it."

Inara paused, slowly taking his hand. "You'll teach us?"

"Of course. It would be somewhat unwise to immediately use that to backstab and betray me, mind, but I see no reason not to."

They found that funny, for some reason, but he shook his head. He was here to evaluate them, realign their lessons if needed, but he didn't have that much time. No way was the Trust going to ignore a direct attack, let alone have it pass unpunished, and there was work to do. Contingencies to prepare. But he had an obligation to teach, though not one so urgent as to delay.

His mind wandered as his apprentices fought to halt his advance, having to pay very little attention. Not a slight on them, they were progressing well, but Teacher had been very insistent on increasing the intensity of their training. A secondary major organ was only the start, at that. As his control sharpened yet again, through the insane art of messing with one's own biology, he would have spares for them all. Skin able to ignore heat and cold, bone dense enough to slow lightsabers. Then there was the strength.

He called it, feeling the lightning crawling across his limbs, and let it dissipate as his apprentices tensed. No need to distract them.

Teacher had promised more still, abilities that boggled the mind, and he wondered how anyone had managed to kill the man. Or force him into a holocron, at any rate. With power like that, condensed into one body. Well. He couldn't think of anything beyond reach.

Hah. Maybe that had been the man's downfall. Arrogance. Feeling so invincible he neglected to prepare for or concern himself with others. Not that it mattered.

Soon enough the man would be gone, decayed to nothing, with very little he could do about it. He was no artificer, holocron crafter or true alchemical master. No. He specialised in fleshcrafting, and the repairs he did was the limit of him. Maybe the man would tell him who he was, at the end, or maybe not. Maybe he truly did not remember.

"My Lord. Please."

Inara's pained voice snapped him back to the moment, seeing their arms blackened and broken. He winced, retreating his attack. "Apologies, that won't happen again."

"None needed, Master." Alyssa demurred, seeming strangely upbeat. "It simply shows we have a long way to go. Might we attempt to heal this on our own?"

Morgan tilted his head, shrugging. "Sure. I'll shadow you, make sure nothing goes irreversibly wrong.

He watched as they worked, slowly but surely guiding life back into blackened limbs. It really was a good exercise, if one unsuited for combat. Very few opponents would let him maintain skin contact, let alone for minutes at the time, and paralysing them was far quicker anyway. Cutting their heads off was quicker still.

They finished up as the door opened, Morgan taking a moment to look over their work. He only found two issues that needed correction, pointing them out and explaining how to fix it, and he was rather pleased with their progress. Enforcing the Chosen had done them good.

"Lord." Jaesa sat down, nodding to her fellow apprentices. Not fast friends, those three, but he could live with them being coworkers. "Can I ask something?"

"You just did."

She smiled a strained smile, clearly resisting the urge to cringe. "Yes, Master. I wished to ask about the planned attack on Republic soldiers."

"Not going to fight them for the fun of it." He pointed out, ignoring Alyssa and Inara exchanging a look. "But the alternative is going rogue this very second. Ignoring the fact most of the men wouldn't follow, or that we'd be hunted down and slaughtered, Baras will send someone else anyway. I'm the most convenient choice, the one he has available right now, but give it a month or two and someone else will take my place. One that will happily start a galactic war on his orders, condemning billions with a smile."

"So our lives matter more than those of others?"

Morgan raised a hand, halting Alyssa as she scowled. The pureblood obeyed but kept staring, eyes boring into Jaesa's head. "That is so for every sentient being. We value our own lives more than those of strangers, sometimes more than those of our loved ones. I will always, always, prize my people more highly than those I do not know. You might not agree, which is your right, but it won't change my mind."

Jaesa grit her teeth, fingers itching to clench. "They won't stand a chance. The Chosen will rip them apart, to say little of the three of us. You? They might as well be children."

"But they are not." Morgan intoned, ignoring her swelling aura. He wasn't getting into a pissing match with his own damned apprentice, not over this. "They are grown men and women, those that knew the risks of wearing the uniform. Being a soldier is never easy, never without consequence, and they chose it anyway. I won't burn homes and hang civilians, you won't ever catch me or mine shelling residential areas or refusing medical aid to those in need, but soldiers? If you enter the battlefield, if you wield a weapon with intent to kill, I will treat you as an enemy combatant."

"I see. Thank you, Lord, for clarifying."

He sighed. "Give me an alternative, then. How do we capture the generals without killing their soldiers, ensuring Baras won't figure out we've betrayed him? How do we buy time without spilling blood, either our own or those of others?"

She kept silent, eyes angry, before she slumped. Inara put down the knife she'd palmed, relaxing as Jaesa's aura vanished, and Morgan looked at her. Really looked, slipping past her defences and training his perception on her core. The Light swelled strong, there, but the Dark was clinging stubbornly to the edge. He narrowed his eyes, making her flinch.

"I don't have one, Lord. My apologies."

"Hold." She froze as she tried to stand, his presence flooding the room. "Sit down."

She sat, staring straight ahead. "Lord?"

"You've been practising without my supervision. Trying to balance the Light and Dark in direct contradiction to my orders. Did you think I set limits because I wished for you to stay weak? It requires a calm mind, clear direction and a belief that is antithesis to you. Now you have the Dark whispering in your mind, trying to overcorrect with the Light. Neither of those exist."

"Knight Argrava practised on his own just fine."

He focussed his aura on her, her eyes snapping to his. "Bundu is a jedi Knight that should have been a Master years ago. A man that has spent most of his life looking for the way of the Je'daii, dedicating himself to his craft with a focus I have rarely seen. You are not him."

Jaesa said nothing, fear starting to creep into her expression as he pressed down on her, and he released his presence. "I. Why. How do I fix it?"

"You don't, not alone. Alyssa, Inara, give us the room and inform Quinn I will be delayed. This might take a few hours."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Morgan overlooked the convoy as it trudged through the broken factory, leaving a small army of rakghouls in their wake. Vicious animals, they were, though he himself had little to fear. Whatever virus, contagion or plague they carried, fleshcrafting disassembled it just fine.

Some shouting could be heard as he waited, the vehicles grinding to a halt, and he raised an eyebrow. He had another ten minutes until the assault should have begun, but it seemed someone had started early. A pity, he'd planned to drop on them from above, but all the same. A prepared, hardened enemy would be a better test anyway.

A flex of his legs and he soared, hundreds of Republic troopers setting up a perimeter with great efficiency. Not the rank and file, clearly. The two tanks gave hardened cover as shields were deployed and activated, bathing the area in strange hues. Morgan took it in as his speed bled off, starting to fall. The shouting reached a peak, they'd noticed him, and they had another two seconds to prepare before he landed.

Four knives slipped from his armour as soldiers opened fire, his lightsaber snapping to hand. He moved toward their rear flank, even he couldn't block a hundred shots at once, and his Phrik weapons started their harvest. With his increased control he had enough range to cover most of the convoy, and the perception to remain accurate, so he put that part out of his mind. Easy enough to have it run on autopilot, these days.

He took a moment as he arrived, watching the tank swivel towards him. He could dodge, keep it from ever getting a clear shot on him, but he was here to test himself. So he took a moment and called the lightning, feeling his body nearly vibrating with energy, and pushed off.

Too hard, he reflected, and he had only just enough time to turn his charge into something useful as he was flung at the fifty ton piece of metal. His lightsaber attached itself to his belt, leaving his hands free, and a split second before he impacted he braced his shoulder. Muscles groaned as he gripped hard enough to dent steel, bending his legs, and with a surge of strength he pushed.

Durasteel screamed as he lifted the vehicle, ignoring the few shots pinging off his armour, and with a final shove the thing tilted sideways. Muted screaming came from within as it collapsed, the escape hatch opening, and Morgan paused. Two torn muscles, both in his left arm, but otherwise he was fine.

His distracted mind allowed some enterprising soldier to throw a bundle of grenades, which he promptly flung backwards into their ranks, but one detached itself from the cord. It detonated before Morgan could grip it properly, not two feet away, and he grunted.

Metal ruptured as his helmet was punctured, half of it being shorn away, and he wondered why he even bothered with the thing. His Phrik chestpiece was fine, as was his leg, so he turned toward the soldier that had been ever so clever.

The woman flinched back as he looked at her, forcing pieces of metal out of his face. Hadn't even managed to penetrate the third layer of skin, which made him happy, and it seemed his smile was interpreted as something else. The soldier ran, barking into her helmet.

"He just flipped a tank! I don't give a single shit about stealth, get that fucking AP cannon loaded or there won't be a convoy to protect!"

He better get on that. His knives returned as he lost sight of that part of the battlefield, hovering over his shoulder idly, and a casual sweep told him what he needed to know. One of the officers was rallying men around his actual target, the storage truck and its transponder, and where moving shields around to cover all directions. He sent one of his knives to harrasses the woman and her quest to acquire the anti-personnel cannon, who managed to shoot his weapon with her own, and Morgan jumped again.

High, this time, and the truck appeared as he reached the apex of his flight. A mass of soldiers was crowded around it, some of which were handing out strange looking weapons, and as he descended he realised attacking the same way twice had been stupid.

Slugthrowers tore into armour as he failed to alter his trajectory, telekinesis pulling apart the crumbling ruin instead of granting him mobility, and the vague sensation of pain swept over him. He kept his lightsaber on his belt, no need to make it molten metal, and landed hard. Less gracefully, too, though still standing.

Fleshcrafting told him his face was scored with welts and scratches, as was every part of him that wasn't covered by Phrik, but none managed to wound him deeply. His three remaining blades hounded for flesh as he kicked the officer, turning away as the man broke his spine against old stone, and swept out his aura. Fear swelled as he ignited his lightsaber, bisecting four as he lunged, and something happened he hadn't expected.

They surrendered.

The woman, still without her AP cannon, was the first. She'd been running up with two dozen soldiers at her back, carrying more slugthrowers, and had been just in time to see him kill four men with one swipe. She threw her weapon down, both in fury and desperation, and the men behind her did the same. His knives halted as more and more gave up, some even getting down on their knees, and sheathed themselves as he noticed no more enemies in sight.

"Clever indeed." He said, the woman avoiding his gaze. "Show me where the transponder is."

She led the way, tense and smelling of terror, but her steps were steady enough. Definitely a veteran, then. Maybe even one who'd fought sith before, by how she reacted. The crew of the truck scrambled to exit as she knocked on the door, pointing to the dashboard. Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Hand it to me, if you please. And don't try to sabotage it."

"I'm not dumb." She snapped, nerves fraying. A few seconds of work and it came loose, being handed to him with a huff. "Get on with it, then. I've never known a sith who didn't enjoy a slaughter."

Morgan shrugged. "I have, though not many. In this instance, however, I think I will indulge in some mercy."

"Mercy." She looked around, glancing at the broken convoy. "Forgive me, sith, but this doesn't seem like compassion to me."

"No, I suppose it doesn't. I have a question, if you'll indulge me."

"Like I have a choice."

"Everyone always has a choice. Often bad ones, ones that feel like no choice at all, but there is always a choice."

She grunted, hand clutching her shoulder. "Fair. I'll answer, if I can. Don't know much."

"Not after information. Why did you surrender? By my count there are some two hundred of you left, if not more. I only killed forty seven."

"You're kidding, right?" A second passed as she laughed, sounding so very tired. "The hell use are we dead? Slugthrowers kill sith, they said. We've supplied enough to arm half the men, if it comes to that. Damn things didn't even make you bleed. Better to take the chance in an Imperial prison, if you felt merciful, than die for nothing. Sides, you can always pick a weapon back up. Sometimes you gotta take the long odds."

He reached out, making her flinch, and she rolled her shoulder as he turned away. "Then luck seems to favour the smart, as it so often does. For what it's worth, I hope our paths don't cross again."

Returning to base was both easy and annoying, though his stealth made it more the former than latter, and as he did he found good news waiting. Despite the early attack, and thus warning the other convoys, everyone had completed their mission. Even Jaesa, who had seemed eager to make up for her earlier mistake.

Not that she'd actually killed anyone, he'd asked the captain accompanying her to keep an eye out, but that was fine. She'd gotten her job done, and if she could do that without taking life then more power to her. His colonel would have the full briefing.

Quinn nodded as he entered, listening to Jillins as the man reported on the other missions, and the three senior lieutenants saluted. Busy busy, but then he normally found everyone left the room when he entered. Something to do with respect, he was sure, though the opposite could be just as true.

"In short, all objectives were accomplished with minimal casualties. I would like to thank Lady Inara, Alyssa and Jaesa in person, if I can. They saved a lot of lives today."

"I expect a full report within the hour." The colonel said, eyes flickering to the lieutenants. "You're dismissed."

They left, Morgan moving to take their place. Jillins bowed, he was starting to suspect where the Chosen were getting that habit from, and wondered why the man felt so tense. Morgan placed his objective on the table, eyebrow raised. "Got mine, in case there was any doubt. Let's nab ourselves a general."

"About that." Quinn tapped his datapad. "It turns out we were able to triangulate the position with three, not four. I expected a decoy, and there might still be one, but that's beside the point. Alyssa and Inara linked up soon after, their lieutenants combining forces, and moved on the generals position. He's in custody."

Morgan blinked. "Oh. This is good, right?"

"It is, looking back. It was a large risk they did not have the clearance to make, the officers bending to their desire, and could have gone disastrously wrong. Such as when a squad of Republic fighters dominated that airspace not half an hour earlier, or when they barely dodged a full platoon of regulars that was dispatched to help protect the convoys. Everything went well, this time, but had they reported back they would have known. Been prepared, if I had given permission, and avoided danger if not."

"I'll impress upon them the importance of following orders." Morgan promised, raising a placating hand. "Though, having said that, Jillins has done good work. His officers are well picked and my apprentices are not so green in the art of war, though I agree they should have reported back. Do not be too harsh on initiative, especially if well thought out."

Quinn snorted, waving his hand. "Look at you, lecturing me on commanding men. Not so long ago you all but threw the duty at me, gleefully distancing yourself from the obligation."

"I like to think I've grown. You know, as a person. And as a living weapon of mass destruction, because I just managed to terrify hundreds into surrendering. Felt good, not having to kill them all."

"I applaud your effort." The colonel replied, a tad dryly. "Are we doing body doubles again? I believe that was the plan."

"So it was. Captain, did you manage to secure a worthy candidate?"

Jillins nodded, shifting his weight. Two of his Chosen dragged a man inside as he called, arranging his body on the chair. "Serial rapist, among other things, and enjoying the planets outlaw nature. Not so much when my men found him, of course. Then he started demanding due process. Got a lead on a few more, though the facts haven't been verified yet."

"Good work." Morgan grinned, bending down over the man. Opening one of his eyes showed him to be thoroughly drugged. "I normally don't enjoy this sort of work, but for you I think I'm going to make an exception. Fetch me general Frellka, if you please."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The man snapped his eyes to the door as he entered, Morgan nodding in greeting. For all the fear in him, he seemed perfectly at ease. "General Gonn. Please, excuse my manners. I had some doubts as to whether you would meet with me."

"Why would you think that?" The general asked, as if distracted. "I always have time for interesting people."

Morgan pulled up a chair, sitting down with a nod. "We have that in common. Normally, however, I do not have them kidnapped and flown halfway across the galaxy. For that you have my apologies."

"And what about my men? Do they have your sympathies too?"

"No." Morgan admitted. "I won't pretend to care for those I have never met, nor for those who wear the garb of a soldier. You live by the sword, as do I, and we both know what that means."

Gonn paused a second, inclining his head. "Fair enough. What do you want, sith? I don't get the feeling you're here for tea."

"He's speaking the truth." Jaesa whispered, Morgan resisting the urge to scratch his ear. Small and unnoticeable the earbud might be, it wasn't comfortable. "He doesn't like you, but he knows the risks of being a soldier."

He could work with that. "To talk. See if we can't come to some sort of understanding."

"You're planning to turn me?" Gonn asked, amused. "You realise that's my trick, right?"

Morgan snorted, shaking his head. "Nothing of the sort. Say, what kind of work do you do in the outer rim, anyway? I never got around to looking into it."

"Disregarding exact troop placements, classified intel and such? Mostly ambushing Imperial scouting parties. Sieging slave moons is probably the most good I do out there, that isn't need to know anyway, but it's mostly just work. Repeating the same skirmishes, against the same ships, as we play hide and seek for the outer planets. Repair, engage, win or lose, repeat."

"Truth." Jaesa confirmed. "He's being very forthcoming, all in all."

"That's admirable. Never been a fan of slavery myself, but don't go spreading that around."

Gonn leaned forward slightly, as much as his restraints would allow, and an inquisitive glint entered his eye. "And why is that? A big, scary sith Lord such as you doesn't have much in common with them."

"Not now, maybe. Used to be I knew it very intimately. For all the horrible things I do, and I have done plenty, slavery hasn't ever been one of them. Now, general, let me ask you a question. Say you walk out of here, right now, and rejoin your fleet, what would you do?"

"Return to my job, obviously." The man rolled his eyes, lips curving upwards. "I hardly brought the full extent of my resources to Nar Shaddaa, not that I'm ever going to be so careless again, and returning to my work should be easy enough. It's rude to tease, though. We both know I'm not leaving here alive. You'll get what you came for, using whomever is behind that mirror to verify my answers, and then I'll die. A shame, I had wished to see Kashyyyk again. Most beautiful underground lakes in the galaxy."

Morgan nodded, annoyed but pleased. Here he thought he'd been subtle. "Good, good. One more question, if you please. If I were to fake your death, grant you a new face and body, and let you get back to freeing slaves, would it be possible for us to work together? Not officially, of course, nor extensively, but form an alliance all the same."

The man stilled, eyes narrowing. "And why would you turn against the Empire? Forgive me, but few Lords hate the power they wield."

"Because they shackled me, tortured and broke me until I conformed to what they wanted me to be." Morgan answered, tone growing cold. "Because while I do not hate the man I've become, I hate that they never gave me a choice. I would sooner let Korriban burn than see one more soul train in its halls, crack Dromond Kaas in half before they can wash their hands in the blood of a hundred slave races. I have risen high, general. High enough to do something about it."

Gonn remained silent for a moment, considering, and his eyes flickered to the window again. "What you suggest would be treason for the both of us. What I do I do with very specific targets, those the Empire doesn't care much about. Should this come out? Losing my job would be the least of my problems."

"I'm here to kill the War Trust, ignite open warfare and grant a warmongering member of the Dark Council his wish for galactic chaos." Morgan replied bluntly. "I'm doing what I can, which will hopefully be enough, and if it is not we'll be revisiting our grand old war this time next month. I'd agree that losing your rank really would be the least of your problems."

"He knows who you are referring to, and will do anything to avoid it. The Republic isn't ready, not yet." Jeasa informed him, voice low. "He is wavering."

"What you say cannot be allowed to pass."

"It will if we don't do something about it." Morgan folded his arms, leaning back. "As long as the Dark Council reigns, it won't ever end."

"And you propose we stop them how? You are not so big a fish."

"Not yet, perhaps. And I might very well fail. That sound like a good reason not to try to you?"

Gonn grunted, leaning back himself. "What do you suggest?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

She observed the nervous soldiers with something akin to amusement, waiting patiently as they verified her credentials. Making a good first impression was important, she found, and she'd done her research on the man. One of those that valued his subordinates, though not to the point of inefficiency, and had brought terrible wrath down on those harming them in the past.

Not that she needed to make a good first impression, of course. She was here because she was curious, lacking anything better to do and because she was putting off speaking with Darth Arkous. Maybe it was just the fact he was a Darth, and maybe she'd get used to it in time, but she got a bad feeling from the man. Instinct like that was important.

Especially she didn't have anyone to catch her if she stumbled.

"Lady Beniko?" She looked over, seeing a pureblood bowing shallowly. "I am Alyssa Gray, apprentice to Lord Caro. If you would follow me?"

Lana shrugged, motioning them forward. "Of course. I assume you'll be taking me to him?"

"Beg pardon, my Lady, but certain protocols must be observed before an unaffiliated sith is granted an audience. Lord Caro asks for your patience."

Protocols, right. She nodded but kept silent, wondering if it would cause the little sith to squirm. It didn't, the pureblood bowing her head and taking off. Not lacking in confidence.

Then again, she was in her own base. Hundreds of soldiers were moving about, quite a few of those felt like Chosen, and if she was the hesitant kind she wouldn't have ever set foot in here. Too unlikely her escape would come easily. Or at all, if she was feeling the man's presence right.

She'd mistaken him for one of the apprentices, seemingly having grown weaker rather than stronger, and she blinked as his aura pulsed. Not weaker, hidden. Interesting. Few mentions of his stealth had been made, the only true piece of evidence coming from a redacted mission file backdating to Alderaan.

Getting her hands on that little piece of intel had been almost difficult, whole servers having been wiped clean on anything involving the new Lord, and Lana suppressed a scowl. Imperial Intelligence, of course. She felt stupid for not realising sooner. What the hell were they doing, messing with sith business?

"Please, if you would wait here? This won't take long."

She looked around as to what, exactly, would be happening at all before a new presence bloomed. Good at stealth, that one, but too powerful by half to hide it. His newest apprentice, the fallen jedi. The one without a clear purpose in his organisation.

"Thank you." Alyssa said, pointing to the door. "Lord Caro will see you now."

Related to security? She'd felt no hint of a scan, Force based or otherwise, and frowned. Her curiosity was well and truly captured, yes, but so was her wariness.

Her train of thought was derailed as she entered a seemingly normal room, the pureblood leaving, and found the man inside. He was, to her well hidden surprise, eating. "Lady Beniko. Forgive me, it was something of a hectic day. Do you mind?"

"Of course not, Lord Caro." She replied, bowing her head. Was the eating a snub? If it was, he didn't seem to be watching her reaction. "I am well accustomed to them. May I sit?"

"Please. I can order something, if you are hungry. We could make it a work meal."

That seemed to amuse him, for some reason, and she found it extended to his eyes. Quite a difference from the stark, blank faced Lord she'd seen on Korriban. "I already ate, but thank you."

She sat, folding one leg over the other as he put down his spoon. "Now, Lady Beniko, what can I do for you? My resources are at your disposal, should you have a need for them. We sith Lords need to stick together."

Lana waited a pause, just enough to be polite, then laughed. It was a practised, smooth sound she had spent a not inconsiderate amount of time mastering, and used the time it bought her to look him over. His posture was relaxed, there were no soldiers or minions to intimidate her, and she found he wasn't even holding his shields particularly tightly. He batted her probe away, almost playfully, and the thought struck her that he wasn't worried.

Not about her purpose, presence or being a potential assassin. Not about being attacked or blackmailed, about seeming powerful or impressing her. He was treating her as if he knew her, which was impossible. "Kind of you, but I did not come here for soldiers or ships. I could requisition both easily enough, had that been my purpose. No. I came to meet with you."

"Ah, the freedom of having avoided politics." He sounded wishful, picking up the bowl and drinking deep. She found the gesture strange. No, not strange. Real. "I, or, more accurately, my people, have to fight tooth and nail for every soldier, rifle and fighter. And I am flattered, of course. You cast no meek shadow."

"Neither do you. Your reputation is growing almost as quickly as your number of followers."

He sighed, pushing the bowl away as the last of the broth vanished. "As you might have surmised I am not one for decorum or high society manners. Accepting the risk of appearing blunt, Lady Beniko, what do you want from me?"

"I think I shall return the favour, then." She leaned forward, letting go of her power. Presence flooded the room, that which she always exuded when not reining herself in, and he raised an eyebrow. "You shouldn't work. Your alliance with Lord Zethix should have crumbled and succumbed by now, your friend turning against you. Darth Baras should have taken your head for growing as quickly as you do, he is not known for being accepting of strong apprentices, and all that goes without mentioning the Chosen. Because the rest? That could be explained. Rationalised. Them? A strong, durable force of soldiers loyal only to you? Growing, no less? You should have been dead months ago."

He pushed his own aura out as he stared back, battling her's. It was an uncomfortable realisation to sense she was losing, though not because of power. The Dark seemed to shy away, however slightly, from his own. Morgan grunted. "I'm not hearing a reason for you being here."

"I am here because you should not exist, and I want to know why you do."

"And why would I tolerate a sith Lord poking in my business, learning of my operations?" A dangerous gleam entered his eyes, one she had to stop herself leaning into. "You have power, that much is clear, but power without control is chaos. Dangerous chaos, no less, and not something I ever put much faith in. Why, Lady Beniko, should I trust you?"

That was a good question, actually, and she forced herself to step back. To disengage and think, lest she say something she would regret. "Before I answer that, since I suspect it is a rather pivotal question, I propose a spar. With training sabers, of course. No need to make this any more tense than it already is."

"That seems like an excellent idea." He agreed, his whole body relaxing. By the way his eyes tracked her he was anything but. "I seem to have acquired a need for training rooms, my people sure put them wherever I go, so as long as we don't deliberately cause destruction it should hold. Please, follow me."

She did, making mental notes as they walked through the base. People got out of their way with both speed and deference, as they should, but she found little fear. Wariness, aimed solely at her, and more than a little awe at their Lord, but no terror. She was the unknown here, so that was fair, but it still rubbed her wrong.

People feared sith, that was how it had always been. Ever since she graduated Korriban with more blood on her hands than seemed possible. As a lowly apprentice to an uncaring Lord, then a sith Lord herself. Terror and obedience, that was what she found around every corner. And yet here, especially among the officers and Chosen, she found deference. Respect and acknowledgement and more. But no fear.

Some bowed their heads to the man, some fewer he nodded back to, and for a brief moment she wondered what it was like. To be trusted and have trust, no longer having to be quite so guarded. Then she shook it off, because she buried idle fantasy along with her friends back on Korriban.

"Here we are. Excuse the rough appearance, we've not been here long." Lana looked around, shrugging. He smiled, and she dismissed its fakeness. "Glad to see I'm not the only one valuing function over form."

A small effort of will and one of the sabers flew to her hand, Lana infusing it with the Force. A rather basic trick, really, though one often neglected by younger apprentices. Lightsabers were better in near every situation, that was true, but she'd found that losing one was rather crippling. Being able to strengthen any weapon she came across had come in handy more than once.

She nodded to show she was ready, he did the same, and she wasted no time launching a barrage of probes at him. He actually rolled his eyes, her attack being decimated before it ever reached him, and she grunted. Probing like that was rather basic, but he had no need to be sarcastic about it.

Her opponent pushed off and went for an overhead strike, one she could dodge or block at her leisure. She blocked, since it was good to know her strength in relation to his, and felt the Force scream at her a moment later. Just enough for her to shift her weight, lessening the blow as it pushed through her guard and impacted her shoulder. Bone held, as did muscle, but it was a near thing.

Retaliation was as swift as she could make it, flowing down and around to strike at his legs. He stepped over it, pivoting smoothly, and she used the Force to push her saber up as he did. He stuttered, clearly never having seen that trick before, and it hit his thigh hard. Or she thought it had, but the feedback felt all wrong. Like hitting stone, if not quite as unyielding.

Four knives were blasted at her as she turned, managing to dodge three. The fourth hit her lower back and failed to hurt her badly, but she conceded the point. His use of Phrik was fairly well known, though few knew how he got his hands on it, and she'd spotted the knives laying in his room.

More concerning was that they started to orbit them, shooting at her the moment she was occupied. She adapted, of course, and would have done little damage even if they had been real, but it was another thing to keep track of.

Then he managed to anticipate her attack and slipped his foot past her guard, impacting her stomach. The loss of balance would be had, one she was already compensating for, but her eyes widened as she was thrown clear across the room instead. The wall groaned as she impacted it, hard and painful, and she sprang to her feet just quick enough to avoid being pelted by the knives.

That set the tone for the rest of the spar, to her annoyance. He was just the slightest bit quicker, the littlest bit faster at disassembling her fighting style. At predicting her movement and punishing her flaws. But, as she watched a horrible bruise on his neck fade and heal in moments, she realised that wasn't it.

He was better than her, by however small a margin, but he took hits like they were nothing. Healed the solid blows she managed, outright ignoring glancing ones to attack her instead.

Lana prided herself on being graceful in defeat, to admit when she'd met her match, so she didn't let the scowl overtake her features as he put his saber to her neck. Thrown to the ground like some fresh acolyte, bruised like she just finished a task in the Tombs. Disgraceful.

Then she detonated half her reserves as he flickered his eyes away, too close to pull her attack apart. He went flying through the room, much like she had, though he twisted with it. Still crumbled to the ground after denting the wall, a groan escaping his lips, and she smiled politely as she stood. "Never think an enemy is defeated until they are dead, restrained or knocked out."

"I got that, thank you." He stood, flexing his shoulder. It popped loudly, like it had dislocated, and the smile left her face. "Don't assume a wound you deal is permanent, not with me. You've had your spar, Lady Beniko. I would like my answer."

"You shouldn't. Trust me, that is. There's no logical reason for you to do so, not when we don't know each other. But, as the price to satisfy my curiosity, I will defer to your authority. Not in all matters, of course, but I'll respect that this is your operation. I'm sure it could use another sith Lord. Few things can't."

He looked at her, eyes seeming to consider more than what he was seeing, and she smiled as he nodded. Then he clicked his tongue, annoyed. "Stop that. If we're going to be working together, for a day or month or more, I'd prefer you keep the fakeness out of it. I won't get offended if you disagree, bite your head off if you don't smile, and we can both feel the truth anyway."

"Fair enough." She let it slip, tilting her head. "In return, you trust me to not slaughter, subsume or corrupt your people. I dislike being scrutinised at the best of times, and I get the feeling the people that work for you won't hesitate to report me if I step out of line."

Lord Caro bowed his head in agreement as he raised his saber, voice neutral. "Then I look forward to working with you, Lady Beniko. Another round?"

"Why ever not?"