Morgan folded his arms as he watched Lana finish with admiral Kala, Senior Captain Enzo moving behind them both. The admiral was preparing their fleet, motioning her protege closer to explain something, and the sith Lord she had been talking to moved towards him.
"They're late."
Lana rolled her eyes, tapping the console. "And every moment they are we gain more time to prepare. Six hours was an estimate."
"It's been thirteen. And the longer they're not here, the more it makes me think something has gone wrong."
"This won't be like Hoth." She said, tone brokering no argument. "We're fully prepared for combat and have friendlies on said planet if the worst comes to worst. Kala is confident we can win a two-on-one engagement, if needed, and that's assuming the enemy also has isotope-5 engines."
Morgan sighed. "I'd hoped to keep that advantage for a while longer. Preferably until we won, really. While we're waiting, you might as well tell me what you've been up to. And don't deflect again, you actually won your battles. How bad can it be?"
"Well…"
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Twenty one days, nine hours and fourteen minutes earlier.
"You said this would be an easy victory." Lana pointed out, slicing the near-feral man in half. "Not that these lowlives had stim-enhancements."
Kala shot a look towards the entrance of the bridge, thirty soldiers keeping a hundred privateers at bay. "Technically speaking, we're ripping their fleet to absolute shreds. Which I will admit doesn't mean much given that they forced ninety percent of their numbers into breaching pods."
Lana rolled her eyes, the girl definitely having spent too much time with Morgan. She didn't enjoy seeing people cower, really, but back-talking soldiers was still somewhat new to her.
Her lightsaber went flying as she shot it forward, a string of telekinesis spinning it through another wave. Dozens died, the weapon snapping back to hand as the rest flinched back.
But only temporarily, their drug addled minds soon forgetting their fear. More came, her whole damn ship was infested with them, and she looked over her shoulder. "Are they ready yet?"
"Making their way up now." Kala reported. "Who estimates losing seventy percent of their forces before they ever make it on the enemy ship and goes 'yeah, looks fine to me!', anyway? I've fought pirates before, they're usually the exact opposite."
Lana grunted, grabbing hold of the Force and sending a wave of it through the door. Her soldiers flinched back as the razor-sharp wind whistled past, unaffected though they were, and the pirates screamed. Their numbers seemed to be lessening. "Pirate hopped up on Imperial-supplied chems, clearly. Without their marauders the Imperial fleet we're after is doomed, so this is a good thing."
"You just complained about it."
"I'm a sith Lord." She grunted, surging forwards briefly. Twenty seconds and forty of the pirates were dead, the final wave finally realising they were doomed. The rest scattered when a team of sith hit them from the back, order being restored as she sheathed her lightsaber. "I can be contrary if I want to be."
She heard Kala snort before moving on, spending the next hour hunting down the last stragglers. Some tried to go back to their boarding pods, which were cheap and so didn't reverse, and others hid. With her senses hiding didn't really help, not anymore, and the contingent of the soldiers on board were feeling rather pissed.
The order to take prisoners never came, and Lana wasn't particularly inclined to argue. None of these men and women had the 'I was forced into this' feel to them, covered in scars and tattoos and more, and none offered to surrender anyway.
By the time she returned she had an update waiting for her, and Lana scowled. Three ships lost to the tide of mad addicts, a destroyer and two frigates. The rest would need at least a day of repair, though the damage these scum were able to do from inside was limited. Not while they lacked the proper tools and experience.
The pirate fleet, if it could be called that, hadn't even managed to take down a single of her ships before Kala wiped them from existence. Her casualties had come from the boarding parties.
Nearly a hundred and fifty of the damn ships in the pirate fleet, too. Mostly haulers and transport ships, some without even so much as weapons welded on, and horribly uncoordinated. Trouble if they landed, stuffed full as they were with drug fueled morons, but here? In space?
Tens of thousands had died just trying to board her ships.
But quantity had a quality of its own, so Lana sighed and got to work. Which was boring right until it wasn't, and Lana stalled as she entered the large meeting room. Being the highest ranked Enosis member on the fleet meant situations such as this were hers to deal with, but to her secret relief she spied Master Volryder already there.
He was already handling with it, and she had full faith in his capabilities. Lana turned and was about to leave again when the old jedi spotted her, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice. "Ah, Lady Beniko. Please, join us. I'm afraid the situation requires someone of your authority."
Lana contemplated ignoring him, but he'd drawn attention to her. The seven people in the room turned and she fixed an impassive look on her face.
"What seems to be the issue, Master Volryder?"
The jedi had the sheer gall to look amused, though the others weren't. The problem seemed to stem from a pair of teenagers, neither of whom could be over sixteen, and the disapproving gazes of most people in the room were firmly on them. They were also, she noted, standing quite close.
Oh.
"Was I called here because of teenage drama?" She asked, tone dropping dangerously. "Because I have around a hundred things to do, and none of them involve kids in love."
Volryder smiled serenely. "I'm afraid so. You see, Paul and Jenna here have be-"
"This is not done." A middle aged man interrupted. He looked like one of the jedi Morgan had Gasnic and Kell recruit, though she honestly couldn't remember. His tone was scandalous and a step away from enraged, but for now he was just waving his hands around. "Corruption to the Dark is not the way o-"
Jenna interrupted the man, and Lana felt a headache coming on. "There is no Dark. Isn't that why we joined the Enosis, to find a better way? What could be more unified than union itself?"
"Well said." Volryder praised, the girl flushing crimson. Paul seemed to be a bad scare away from a heart attack, opening and closing his mouth ineffectively. "Really, this should be celebrated. Seeing two young people in love is a balm on my old eyes, and w-"
"He's is sith." The middle aged man barked. "Who knows what he is going to do to my dau-"
Lana flooded the room with power, flexing her aura and pressing down with her intent. She wasn't particularly good at it, unlike a certain someone who seemed to be taking to it like a fish to water, but it worked well enough. Everyone shut up, blessed silence returning.
"You two." She said, pointing at the young couple. They startled, saluting, and she suppressed the urge to shake her head. "Is this consensual?"
"Yes."
"Yes!"
She nodded. "Good. That's done, then."
"But he's a-"
"It's done." Lana hissed, narrowing her eyes at the older jedi. "I am not Morgan, to be patient and understanding indefinitely. We have no rules against romantic relationships, they are right in stating the Dark and Light are but interpretations, and I can feel his devotion from the other side of the damned ship. Now stop complaining and be happy that she's happy."
"I am happy, dad!"
The older man sagged. "Oh sweetheart, I just worry. These are uncertain times, and-"
"Go do that somewhere else." Lana ordered. None of them moved, confused, and she pointed towards the door. "Get out. I need to speak to Master Volryder and the two jedi lurking in the shadows."
Three jedi faded into sight, forcing her to suppress a startle, and the room emptied. It was Volryder that acted first, striding towards the now visible trio.
"Bundu, old friend." The Master greeted, voice overjoyed. Lana would have found it mocking if not for the sheer sincerity in it. "I did wonder what you've been up to. And stealing Morgan's people? You've grown bold."
Bundu Argrava bowed politely, first to Lana then to Volryder. Gasnic and Kell copied the gesture. "It is good to see you again, Master Volryder. I was only reacquainting myself with my old associates, nothing more."
"Why didn't I feel you come on board the fleet?" Lana asked, not feeling nearly so genial. "And perhaps more importantly, why did you?"
The jedi bowed again, and she found it containing more actual respect than she anticipated. "Some time ago, many months now, Morgan and I had a talk about affinity. We meditated on the Nexus of Tatooine, and I embraced the Force without reservation. A realisation came some weeks after, inspired by my friend's relentless drive to improve. So I sought out a Master Shadow, which I can assure you is not a simple task, and convinced her to teach me her craft."
"That explains the first question, not the second."
"It does." Bundu replied. "I am here to see Volryder, to reacquaint myself with the Enosis and learn of what I have missed. It appears, from your numbers and activity, that I have missed much."
Lana sighed, relaxing marginally. "You have no idea."
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Current time.
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Really? Drug fueled pirates and a family marriage dispute?"
"I'd have stuck with just the pirates, but Volryder would have told on me, the snitch." Lana said, a scowl on her face. "We had another few battles after that, but nothing major. Found the fleet we were after, which was busy raiding some colony whose name I can't be bothered to remember for supplies, and took their destroyers after they surrendered. Six of them, before you ask, and they're back at Omega station getting repaired or refitted."
"I do love more ships. Gimme a moment."
Lana shrugged as he closed his eyes, taking a second to properly craft his intent. Infused it into his detection, casting out his senses with a feather-light touch. He knew Bundu well, if his signature more so than his personality, but if the man was now a self-proclaimed stealth expert…
Ah, there. The jedi, a term that was applying less and less to those joining the Enosis, was doing some sort of exercise. He also noticed Morgan's gaze, and promptly blinked out of existence.
Morgan frowned, doubling down. Bundu couldn't have actually moved all that far, so he let his metaphorical eye unfocus. The Force was neither calm nor active, thick nor thin, but even so the jedi seemed to have blended himself expertly.
Expertly enough it took Morgan almost a minute to find him, seeing the jedi standing still. If Bundu had moved there was no way in hell Morgan would have found him, so he sent the man an impressed feeling.
"Sorry about that." Morgan replied, shaking off the Force. "Bundu wanted to play hide and seek. He's damn good, isn't he?"
"Very. You found him, I take it?"
"And why would that make you sound resigned?"
Lana rolled her eyes. "Nevermind. I need your approval for something."
Morgan flickered his eyes to the window, the combined fleet spread around Taris standing over a hundred and eighty ships tall. Nearly a hundred thousand soldiers, some loaned from moff Qalli but the majority from the Enosis itself, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Bit last minute, isn't it?"
"Which I did on purpose to pressure you into deciding." Lana replied dryly. "Or I meant to bring it up after the battle, but they're late and so now we have time. Want to hear it or not?"
"If you feel it's important."
Lana shrugged. "Of a sort. The jedi defectors, those that Gasnic and Kell recruited and those from the main jedi Order, they're being treated with kid gloves. We have just over fifty of them here, all cleared for active fighting, and they're holding defence positions. Bridge guard duty, repelling squads, the works. When I tried to reassign them, I was blocked. Told to bring the issue up with you."
"That's an old order." Morgan admitted. "Basically, jedi dying is bad. It stops others from joining, antagonises their faction and most aren't even that useful. Their Knights are, yes, but those fifty you mention? Eight Knights. The rest are just jedi, not padawans but not promoted. I tested them myself. They've mastered the art of not cutting off their own limbs with a lightsaber, and are quicker than regular people, but that's about it."
"They failed to meet your expectations so they got put in time out. That's one of the harsher things I've ever heard you say, I think, as is the order to boot them back to bootcamp. But you know this is creating its own problems."
Morgan sighed, pulling up his datapad. "Yeah, I know. Sending a message to Quinn now, see if it's not too late to reassign them before battle starts. The Knights are going with the boarding crews, the others on active defence around the engine and bridge. I have been thinking about the issue myself, believe it or not."
"Good." Lana nodded, Morgan thought it was mostly to herself, and she offered a small smile. "You're adapting to this."
"Sending people to their deaths?"
"Being in charge."
"Hyperspace exit of potentially hostile vessels detected." An officer called. "Size of the hostile fleet is within margins for engagement. Seventy five ships, estimating fifteen destroyers."
Morgan looked at his admiral. "The show is yours."
Kala grinned with altogether too many teeth. "Set the fleet to intercept. Ensure they cannot flee, not without leaving half their fleet behind, and let's not pretend to be slower than we are. Full speed."
Morgan closed his eyes as they waited, finding no sith among the enemy. None that mattered. He was mapping out potential souls for sabotage, including the enemy admiral, when Lana tapped him on the shoulder.
He opened his eyes, confused, and found Kala had accepted a holocall. Not the admiral, his uniform marked the man as a captain, and as Morgan reached his perception through the link he found no one of a higher authority on that bridge.
Not allowing him direct contact with their high command. Smart. The man cleared his throat nervously, Morgan raising an eyebrow. "Yes? I was busy trying to figure out which one of your deaths would be the most chaos-inducing during battle."
"I surrender." The man blurted, clearly not having been planning to say that. He bleached white soon after, but forged ahead. "I cannot speak for the fleet, but the Blue Bailey will power down and await boarding. Our shields will remain intact out of fear of being targe-"
The connection cut to static, Morgan frowning, and Kala spoke with a sigh. "The Blue Bailey was fired upon by her fellow ships. Full destruction confirmed."
"Open a wide channel." Morgan grunted, shooting a look at Lana. "Can you find the admiral?"
"I can. Not sure I can affect him from this range."
"Just keep him in your sight, I'll do the rest." Morgan replied, seeing his comms officer nod. He turned back to the screen, no image greeting him but every single communication device in the system capable of picking up the signal. A dozen did, that number rising slowly. "Greetings, soldiers of the Empire. You just witnessed the price of refusing to throw your lives away in a futile battle. Your admiral refuses to show their face, hiding behind you, and will strike at the slightest sight of hesitation. Is that what a leader does? Punish fear?"
Lana held up a finger, clearly still needing a minute, and Morgan continued after a beat. "You are outnumbered. You are fielding inferior ships. You have no Darth to occupy me with. Your admiral thinks they are safe, thinks that they can hide and use your loyalty like a tool. Loyalty is not a tool. It is a choice, a promise from two sides, and they have clearly chosen to hold none towards you."
Morgan saw Lana nod, making him trace the connection she made. Her practice had borne fruit, clearly, and before he could strangle the admiral himself she snapped his neck. Well, she hadn't said that she was unable.
"She tried to hide." Morgan continued, the number of those listening continuing to rise. "She failed. Surrender. You will be treated well, much better than the Empire has and would treat me, and we can talk about the value of loyalty. Because I can feel you, men and women of the Empire. From your seasoned captains to the lowest private, and your dedication is wasted on the Empire. Discarded. Misused. Darth Marr, a man aiming to become Emperor, sacrificed an entire fleet to lure me into a trap. Thousands of souls, sacrificed for petty revenge. Is this the Empire you love? Can you still remember the zeal you felt when you joined the military? I offer you the chance to live, the chance to go home. The choice, for the first time in a long time, is up to you. Not your admiral, not your captains. You. I hope you choose well."
The connection was closed and Morgan exhaled, Lana looking at him. "You practised that."
"And it was still awful." He agreed. "Next time you can do the speech."
"It wasn't that bad." Lana assured, slightly too quickly. She grinned. "Now we wait, I suppose. Not that their entire fleet will surrender. Too many zealots and supremacists in charge."
"I'm hoping their people put a bullet in them."
Lana raised an eyebrow. "Some might. Most won't."
She, as Morgan found out, was right. The combined First and Second fleet was still moving full-speed ahead, steadily closing the distance, and every minute that passed a few more made the choice. The smart ones surrendered, a number which rapidly climbed to eight and now stood at twenty, but most were trying to make a run for it.
Whatever iron-clad discipline existed before was gone, their formation drifting as paranoia manifested, and Kala was almost grinning ear to ear. Ordering her ships to spread out, creating a large net to capture as many as they could.
Another minute, another two ships surrendered, and six managed to get away. Panic jumped, stranding themselves gods known where on a good day. Uncalculated hyperspace jumps could just as easily get you drawn into a black hole as get you where you wanted.
Then the Yamada got close enough, and what ships hadn't surrendered tried to fight. Morgan got to work, finding the difference between defiant ships and those who weren't fairly easy to discern in his soul-sight, and this time he had help.
Lana, apparently, could get somewhat competitive. She wasn't quite as good at this as he was, not without more practice, but she had raw power. And when it came to manifesting strength in reality, power mattered. Less the deeper you went into the Force, but here?
The end of the battle was as anticlimactic as he liked it, and another twenty two ships would be added to his fleet. Not immediately, the Enosis was running into a serious problem regarding the lack of qualified navy personnel, but still.
Making them serve as training vessels back in Enosis territory would be worth it alone.
And soon enough the work was done, Kala's officers taking care of the details. Damaged ships to be repaired, prisoners to handle and defections to arrange, none of which he would be needed for.
Lana looked over, shrugging. "What now?"
"Now." Morgan mused, looking to the right. Taris was but a speck in the window, and he only knew it wasn't some distant star by the souls shining within. "Now we go to Taris. Speak to the moff, take stock of our resources, the works. I also have something of a publicity stunt planned."
She rolled her eyes. "As long as I don't have to fight Rakghouls again. Irritating creatures.
Morgan smiled at her reassuringly.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Zethix shook his head as the holo stabilised, yet another flicker dragging on longer than it should. "Well, that isn't good."
"You know what's causing it?" Mad Mouse asked, his tiny form clearly curious. The holo flickered again, his friend growing hazy, and Zethix nodded. "Cool. So, what is it? The constant static has been annoying me."
"The way we communicate is through hyperspace, just like we travel - if different in application, and that requires maintenance. With the war going on the network is decaying, stressing the stable connections as the unstable ones die. It's big, bigger than you can really wrap your head around, but if this goes on for long enough…"
"Communications blackout." His friend sighed. "Great. I do love these talks of ours, they're always so uplifting."
"If you want sweet flattery you shouldn't have built a cult based on honesty."
Mad Mouse rolled his eyes. "Yes yes, mock me all you please. I'm about to travel to Taris's surface, take stock of what we gained. So unless you have something important to report, I gotta go."
"Actually, I do. Did you read the reports I sent about my battles?"
"I did."
"Do you remember them?"
"Nope."
Zethix sighed. "Why did I put you in charge again?"
"Good question. Probably because of my massive p-"
"Anyway." He interrupted, seeing the light smirk lurking in his friend's eye. "I'll summarise. My first major battle was against an Imperial supply convoy, which I learned about from a defector looking to curry favor. Me and mine hit it hard, looted it, then called in the nearby fleet with a fake sos signal. Beat that too, which puts me at around forty defeated vessels. Six ships lost on my side, which demonstrates the power of trusting your people to do their job."
"I was going to say; because of my massive passion for justice."
Zethix ignored the remark. "The second was against Acharon's fleet, which is one of the defecting Dark Council members, just in case you're as forgetful as you claim. That battle was mostly an accident, we came across each other at a bad time, but I won. The Darth wasn't there, anyway, but I added another two ships to my fleet."
"Now I just feel like you're bragging."
"Which made me question the following." Zethix said, ignoring him. "Where did Marr's fleet go? I had my people dig into it, and we came to the conclusion the Empire is bleeding from all sides. What stability it had was hit hard with the defections within the Dark Council, but it's worse than that. People aren't sure the Empire has a future, not anymore. They're burying it, and trying to fix the issue, but this last month alone they've lost over two hundred vessels to defection. Some to us, some to the Republic, a few went mercenary. Marr has the sith under control, for now, but even there we've been recruiting more deserters than usual."
Mad Mouse hummed. "So he couldn't keep his subjugation fleet together after his failure to kill me, because the Empire needed the ships. Makes sense. And the sith defections will be worse than you think."
"Oh?"
"You got lucky and avoided it, you and the early Enosis, but the rest of us?" A shadow passed over his friends eyes, and Zethix could feel the Force harden. Not anything his friend was doing, he was pretty sure, but a consequence to his emotions. "We're tools and playthings to our Masters, most of whom like to keep us close. Baras needed me, but his other apprentices? Discarded like trash the moment they outlived their usefulness."
His friend bit out a bitter laugh. "Some of them knew it, too. Knew it but could do nothing. How many, do you think, would take the opportunity to run? The grunts and minions, those souls who haven't been overly corrupted by the Dark? If they think their Master can't afford to chase them down, if they think they can live a life far away from them, hundreds will defect. Thousands, possibly."
That. That was a good point. How strange to think he had it relatively easy on Korriban, at least after the project. The pressure was high, looking after his people, but he had that. People. Sith that were used to working together, trained and loyal.
"I'll ensure we are prepared." Zethix promised. "Either to recruit or otherwise. But now that really is all I had to say, so unless you have something?"
Mad Mouse shook his head, they set a new meeting for tomorrow, and the connection cut. Zethix stood and stored his paperwork, sending a copy to a secure Enosis server, then grunted. Saw that he had about ten minutes to prepare for a meeting with moff Vylon, who was going to be over the moon about the scrutiny he was under.
But Vette was a brilliant judge of character, and her ever escalating quest to rule the criminal underworld had sharpened her nose for treachery. Jaesa was useful, very useful, but she could hardly keep scanning everyone all the time. And she was away, at that.
So he had more meetings, got a pleasant surprise when the moff told him their initiative concerning the Naval Academy had increased applicants fourfold, and did some record keeping after assuring the man Vette would be done soon.
Then it was another meeting with Bulwark Brothers inc., an independent shipyard which was amenable to building and repairing Enosis vessels, and Zethix forwarded them a number of designs. None would be done soon enough, maybe not even in time for this war, but it was always good to plan for the future.
Ensuring that the fairly positive relations Mad Mouse had created with Hoersch-Kessel Drive didn't withered came after, yet another shipyard the Enosis might do business with, and Zethix was very glad their healing services were making as much money as they did.
War was expensive.
But after that it was time for dinner with general Octavian, a not-so-subtly reminder that the man was still under probation. It didn't seem like he was regretting his choice, but still.
So that's where he found himself, trying not to inhale the frankly ridiculously delicious lizard-curry the cook had prepared. His Pride of Pursuit hardly carried chefs - dreadnought or not space was still at a premium - but the military cooks had an increasing amount of sith among them.
Sith that, ever since Mad Mouse's complement of the art, had taken to cooking. Force infused cooking, making even mediocre skill excellent. It was one hell of a morale boost, that was for sure, and apparently something of a competition.
Military sith had gone from fighting to avoid secondary duties to fighting over who got to cook.
It even helped with control training, though only to a point. Yet another one of Mad Mouse's idle comments that somewhat ended up benefitting the Enosis.
The general had almost as much trouble controlling himself, probably having skipped lunch as he himself had, so they postponed discussion. Finished in an almost impolite amount of time. The cook had come out after Zethix had demanded it, the man beaming as well-deserved praise rained down on him.
"A much better use of Force powers, if you'll forgive the implication." Octavian said, nodding to the man. "Bloodshed and death is simple, almost instinctual, but creating joy? Much harder."
The cook blushed, Zethix waved the man away, and looked at the general as the door closed. "You're good at cultivating loyalty."
"I wasn't lying."
"I know." Zethix shrugged. "That's why you're good at it. But that does mark the end of the pleasant part of our evening, so let's move on to your weekly review. Not to worry, I've already decided you're doing a good job. I do, however, need clarification on some subjects."
"I shall endeavour to answer truthfully."
"Excellent. Let's start with the directive to change quick-landing procedures."
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Hexid hummed a wordless tune as they disembarked from the merchant vessel, it's captain and his crew all but falling over themselves to assist her. There was little fun to be found in charming such weak-willed souls, but if it needed to be done she wouldn't complain. Much.
Celanon. Such a pretty planet with such an ugly shipyard. A beast of industry and scale, a hundred docks capable of housing anything from a one-soul speed-craft to a dreadnought.
It had one of those now, according to rumors, but Hexid wasn't there for that. No, she was here for the reactor. For Darth Shaar and chaos supreme, ensuring this ugly place didn't outproduce the Enosis.
Synar moved up next to her, the Darth smiling lightly. Eleven sith Lords spread behind them, their largest gathering in almost a decade. It would raise all kinds of alarm, no doubt, but the moment they had docked the fate of this station was sealed.
"Shaar knows we're here." Synar said, hands playing with a glass bead. "She's moving to lock down the station and has already warned her Master. Dark Council member Vowrawn won't be happy with us."
Hexid laughed. "Well, that just makes me feel terrible. How about it, my lovelies. Are you quaking in your boots?"
Eleven men and women grinned, their bloodlust unshackled. It spread like a blanket of terror, Hexid waving her hand. They bounded forward like hounds on the hunt, lightsabers igniting as prey started screaming.
"It's been a while since we did more than play for pleasure." Synar pointed out. "I do hope they'll keep to their assignments."
"They know what they have to do. They overload the reactor, we hunt Shaar. After that we can have some fun ourselves, though it doesn't seem like there'll be much after the Darth is dead."
"And all this to earn the favor of Lord Caro."
"Darth Caro." Hexid corrected languorously. "He's earned the title, and we're doing this mostly because you vouched for him. Unless you changed your mind?"
"No. But we have not moved this aggressively since the last war. If we lose, we lose everything."
Hexid shrugged. "Then we better win. Besides, I'm curious how far our little Master of Flesh will go. We've had prodigies before, those who rise quick and fall quicker, but he's fast even for them. And none of his predecessors can boast a third of the power base he has."
"You want to seduce him." Synar sighed, a noise more aggrieved than usual. "Why, and how is that in any way a good idea?"
"He can control his own hormones! You know how long it's been since I met someone with that kind of body-regulation? It'll be a challenge, and you know I get bored if I can't play. My last one died too soon. Poor, handsome Tomas. So strong-willed, so delicious to break."
"His name was jedi Master Jarek Lysar."
"Tomas suited him better." Hexid grinned, briefly lost in the fond memory. "Besides, he was all too happy to respond to it after his training."
"You worry me, sometimes."
Hexid shook her head. "Nonsense. Now come, we have a Darth to play with."
Synar led the way, her senses the more refined between them, and Hexid felt old instincts flare to life. Hunting was fun, she usually did so at least once a month, but few things in this universe were as dangerous as a Dark Lord of the Sith. A Darth, member of the Dark Council or not.
Rancors, Krayt Dragons, Acklays and more, none came close. Not even jedi on the High Council were quite as dangerous, though underestimating any that sat on those seats was for fools and dead men.
The shipyard, and the station it was a part of, had gone into full lockdown. Blast doors turned the expansive facility into a hundred small ones, many of them blocking their way. Her friend waved her hand and the metal groaned, a small one-person sized entrance appearing.
She had no doubts about her own prowess, but Synar did have her beat when it came to sheer Force power.
It was also where their exploration and occasional entertainment ended. The Darth rounded the corner as Synar slowed, Darth Shaar not looking amused in the slightest.
"This is treason." The woman hissed, Hexid honestly surprised. Treason? Her? "My Master will have your head for this, assuming I don't take it myself. Why throw your life away?"
Hexid hummed. "A few notes. Firstly, it's only treason if I'd sworn an truthful oath of loyalty. Which I didn't mean a word of, because, you know, sith. Second, while it was a decent mid-sentence recovery, don't assume you've lost before you even start the fight. That's just bad form. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, the why is so very simple. I was bored."
"Bored?" Shaar spat, shaking her head. "The Council should have taken you under their wing or taken your head. Independent Darths, the gall of it. Two of you, three if you count that fool Caro, and look at what has become of the Empire. At least what few others of you there are keep their heads down."
"Don't blame me for that. It was breaking itself apart long before I started involving myself in politics. And since I feel my reasoning hasn't sunk in yet, I'll spell it out. This is a game, the Empire is losing, and Darth Hexid does not lose. Now entertain me, oh mighty apprentice, and pray you don't lose too quickly."
Synar took a polite step aside as Hexid shot forward, bringing her lightsaber to bear as her body positively thrummed with power. Darth Shaar blocked, her own lightsaber in hand, and Hexid almost laughed when her opponent electrocuted her.
Like pain wasn't just another game.
Hexid danced and Shaar struggled, and she wondered why she'd ever contemplated calling this off. Why she would ever question a hunt as delicious as this over something as trivial as a naval battle.
A lost naval battle, yes, but the Enosis was just another shield. Another thing to be a part of so she could be showered in riches, having to do the occasional chore to ensure she could feast and hunt and play.
War was politics, but it could be a game. And the only reason Hexid played for the Empire was the Emperor. But the Emperor was gone, and now she could push someone else to hold it together. Maybe kill him, too, at the very end.
Life was a game, and Hexid simply adored playing.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
"Who am I going to talk to again?"
"Moff Qalli." Quinn repeated, straightening his jacket. Four others were in the small transport with them, two soldiers and an aide, and Morgan found the soldiers relaxed while the bureaucrat was nervous. "The moff governing Taris."
He'd noticed that more and more, actually. Men and women that served in the Enosis behaving rather casually. Even ones he didn't know, though that was most of them. They were polite and disciplined, followed orders without issue, but relaxed. As if they knew Morgan wouldn't hurt them. Not the aide, clearly, but progress.
Which he wouldn't, and he had been telling people that for months and months, yet only now they believed him?
"Yeah, I figured that part out myself." Morgan replied dryly, setting his internal musings aside. He was becoming a soldier's sith, apparently. "I meant more about his general demeanor, previous experience, reasons for defecting, that sort of thing."
"Jaesa checked him out. Self-serving, though not the worse she'd felt, and feeling guilty about an event she could not discern. I had my intelligence agents dig into it, and it turns out he had a child with someone named Lila. A neimoidian, which did not go over well with his superiors. Tried to hide the child, the mother died of an unspecified disease, and the child was taken by Imperial Intelligence for leverage."
"I take it that's not the end of the story."
Quinn shook his head sadly. "Something went wrong, there was a lot of blame shifting in the report, and the child died. Qalli had, and I've seen the recording, one of the most spectacular meltdowns I've witnessed to date. There were two sith in his debriefing, and both cringed back at the tirade that man unleashed. Was sent to Taris, which is seen as a career killer now that the Republic has abandoned its efforts, and here we are."
"They didn't fire him?"
"Couldn't." Quinn shrugged. "Killing a child doesn't go over well with anyone, not even hardcore human supremacists, so it was covered up. Not that I think they care, specifically, but it's one of the skeletons no one likes in their closet. The moff was smart about it, laid low for a while, then joined us. Probably realised that the powers-that-be would kill him sooner or later."
"And Taris is considered a dead-end assignment because of Rakghouls, right?"
His general hesitated for a long second, nodding. "I dislike that look."
"Nonsense." Morgan grinned, motioning to the man's aide. "Get me a company of soldiers, as well as a few work tables. Sturdy ones, please. With restraints."
The aid did as he was told, Morgan had the transport drop him off as Quinn continued to the moff, and stretched. Not a pretty planet, Taris, but he had a good feeling about this.
Such a good feeling, in fact, that he had Quinn invite the moff here to witness his very well-thought out scheme. Before he was sure it worked, at that.
But if it worked, well. He knew what the Rakghouls were, where they came from, and if he was right about it being a Force-based disease? Morgan rubbed his hands together.
This trip might actually be fun after all.
So that's where he found himself, an hour later, with a hundred Chosen setting up a perimeter as others assembled a workstation. He hadn't specified the soldiers to be them, exactly, but he wasn't going to complain.
Inara was there too, for some reason, though neither Jaesa nor Alyssa were. When asked why he got an unknowing shrug in return, and that was that. He had more interesting things to wrap his mind around anyway.
The thought had occurred the last time he was here, but too much had been going on. Yet now the planet was his, which was a somewhat startling realisation to come to, so why not fix it? He had the time, was probably one of the few with the expertise, could see no reason not to try, the list went on.
The temporary camp was finished, the immediate surroundings cleared and Inara had taken charge of the Chosen. Something his apprentices had been doing much more naturally after their mission for John, which was pleasing.
But now he needed a Rakghoul, and to his honest surprise they ran away from him. A whole pack, must have been forty of them, and they scattered like drunk teenagers seeing a cop-car. It made sense that animal instincts were more finely honed towards danger, but still.
Morgan suppressed his power, employing his seal and manually scattering what little of his presence was left, and the next group didn't run. Charged, foam literally spilling out of their maws, and he could see why they'd be terrifying.
Not that the squad of Chosen was scared. They opened fire as Morgan watched, hair-sharp aim culling the pack until only a few were left. Morgan dropped his seal, allowing him to actually use active techniques again, and the three survivors skittered to a halt.
It was almost comical, and two died as they tried to run. Blasters were turned to stun and the unconscious 'ghoul picked up, Morgan putting it to sleep properly as they did.
He could kill the disease should his men get infected, but why risk it?
And back they went, Taris feeling rather peaceful now that every nasty thing was running full speed away from them. He kept that up, ensuring their peace continued, but by the time he came back to camp Inara had beaten him to it.
Morgan's Rakghoul was tied down next to the other one, restraints and muzzle put in place and with a two meter clear-zone around each. Inara was watching hers, bowing absentmindedly as he came to stand next to her.
He was about to speak when she did so instead, looking to the right. "The moff is here."
"So he is." Morgan agreed. "But you have a question, and he can wait."
Inara was silent for another few seconds, watching the Rakghouls, and spoke as a Chosen stopped the moff from approaching some ways away. "This war, is it worth it?"
"Yes."
She looked at him, clearly surprised about the conviction in his tone, and nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll ensure you won't be disturbed."
The Chosen captain joined her as she walked off, Morgan nodding to the moff. The Chosen that was keeping him away stood aside. The man approached, clearly irritated, but smoothed it away.
It had been the plan to get the man here after finding out if he could actually do this, but nothing for it. Capturing a Rakghoul had taken longer than anticipated.
"Moff Qalli." Morgan greeted, nodding. "Apologies for the abrupt change of location. I shall keep this short, but rest assured that we will talk more afterwards."
"And what is this, exactly? I am well aware of the threat these things pose against me and my people."
Morgan snapped his fingers. The moff blinked. "Exactly! Now I'm going to wipe them from the face of this earth, and your dead-end assignment will turn into the restoration of one of the great industrial centers of this galaxy."
"What?" Qalli shook his head, looking between the slowly stirring Rakghouls and Morgan. "Why? How?"
"The exact details aren't important, and you can consider it a signing bonus. And a warning against betraying me, I suppose, but mostly the first thing."
Morgan cracked his fingers and moved towards the restrained zombie-things, moff Qalli not seeming sure how to answer that. The Chosen had mostly dissipated, though a few remained. Watching the Rakghouls, calm but ready.
And watching the moff, which the man seemed to find disconcerting, but Morgan put both out of his mind.
Rakhouls, from what he remembered, were an almost classic example of a sith spawn. Heinously dangerous, unnaturally created and aggressive as all hell. Some talisman or amulet was involved, he was pretty sure, and a dead sith Lord, but that wasn't relevant now.
They could, just like zombies, spread by bite. And unlike regular zombies, also by claw. A quickly growing horde of dangerous beasts, overrunning any defence if given time to build their numbers.
If Taris hadn't been bombed because of Revan, the plague festering in its undercity might have just finished it off anyway.
But silver linings existed, and what few people survived the destruction of the ecumenopolis found Rakhoul numbers greatly depleted. And, with a lack of people to infect, along with increased awareness of their behavior, the species reached an equilibrium.
There were quite a few ways to deal with them, really. Droids, with their immunity to infection, was but one. The true danger was them spreading off-world, specifically to other highly populated planets, but that hadn't happened. Not on any real scale.
Morgan touched one, the biology and soul of the creature unfolding beneath his senses, and he found his earlier hunch had been right. By bite and scratch the Raghouls injected small slivers of their soul into the victims, twisting and mutilating until another of their kind was born.
Ingenious, really. Not his style, not by a long shot, but ingenious. Their creator was most likely seeking immortality, so the presence of sophisticated soul manipulation was all but expected, yet as he delved deeper he found it more brutal than clever.
The souls of the beasts were cracked, allowing them to instinctively shave off pieces to fight with, but it was damaging. Much more so than it needed to be. Morgan mused that one could probably infect two dozen before the soul weakened to the point of death, which was far from the theoretical limit.
Anyway, no way in hell was he going to make an army out of these things. Not even if he could fix the obvious issues. His reputation as a 'good' sith was more valuable than an uncontrollable plague of monsters.
But it also made his job much easier. Their aggression was tuned shockingly high, a result of their damaged soul and several chemical imbalances, but they had surprisingly sophisticated brains. Enough so he almost felt bad about what he was about to do, even if they were a civilization-ending threat.
This was a relatively young one, only having infected one or two people, and Morgan hummed to himself as he twisted the creature's soul. It was no Force user, let alone capable of organized defence, so it bent easily. The shattered nature let him rearrange as he pleased, and their fairly complex brains allowed the soul to influence them.
"And done." Morgan said, opening his eyes. "Let this one free, if you please."
A pair of Chosen did as ordered, the moff taking a cautious step back. The shackles came undone, the beast was free, and all it did was sniff Morgan once before moving on. Its eyes landed on the other Rakghoul, still quite out of it, and it approached with a low growl.
It took a large bite out of its fellow zombie, which woke it up, but the snarls of pain and aggression died down over the next minute. Slower than expected, but workable. It let out a confused whine, looking around as its free brother started sniffing people again.
"I'll explain, since no one asked." Morgan started, the moff snapping his head around to look. "Their nature did much of the work for me, in truth, but I turned down their aggression for all but other Rakghouls. Couldn't get rid of it entirely, but now they have a focus for it. Their bite, just like before, injects a sliver of their soul into their victims. Which will now be other Rakghouls, who will be transformed into their newer biological state once infected. And best of all? The non-changed Rakghouls won't be able to tell the difference, and so won't attack the newer kind. Not until attacked, anyway."
Inara approached one, tapping it on the head, and all it did was growl at her. She growled back, to his amusement, and it cowered. She looked at him. "And once they're done mutating their own kind?"
"It's an efficient species." Morgan explained, shrugging. "They'll go a month without food, though less without water. The change makes them really bad at absorbing nutrition, which they also lack the drive to collect. In simple terms, they'll starve. I turned up the drive to hunt other Rakhouls, so that'll only happen once they've run out of prey."
His apprentice smiled, nodding to the moff as the Chosen captain moved to stand by her side. "I'll put them near nests to make sure it spreads. Congratulations, moff Qalli. Your worthless planet just became one of the most valuable colonisation sites in the galaxy."
Said moff was opening and closing his mouth, tracking the Rakhouls as Chosen stunned them. They were pretty much harmless to anyone but others of their kind now, unless you physically attacked them first, but Morgan approved of the caution.
"Thank you, apprentice." Morgan said, turning to the moff. "It's a pleasure to meet you properly."
The man composed himself, the effort almost visible, and bowed deeply. "The pleasure is mine, my Lord."
"I'm glad we understand each other. Let's go back to a more comfortable establishment, shall we? We have a great many things to discuss."
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Quinn stood as moff Qalli entered the meeting room, the once temporary Imperial command center having become a hive of activity. The reason he stood entered after the moff, his Lord seeming perfectly at ease.
The moff did not. Not something Quinn could blame the man for, not if he'd seen what Quinn had just read about, and his Lord had had that effect on people long before getting this strong.
Taris. Quinn didn't feel any particular way about being back, not really, but he did note the Empire had abandoned its people. Contesting the Republic was one thing, which they had been successful in, but to just abandon it afterward?
Oh, not completely. They'd left a moff and a garrison and some ships. But not enough troops to patrol and defend the scores of settlers, many of whom had flocked to this very command center for safety after the Republic withdrew.
It made for a more impressive Imperial propaganda poster, sure, but Taris and its rehabilitation had taken a massive blow. Until now.
The moff took a seat but remained silent, clearly deep in thought, and Quinn nodded to his Lord. Duty had taken them apart, especially with how quickly the Enosis was growing, but he still considered the man his friend.
His extremely powerful, reality altering friend. Who could, on a whim, solve a planet's habitat-suitability problem to earn some minor favor with Qalli.
Or that was what he thought, no doubt. Quinn knew the moff would see this as a display of power, and of a kind the man would not be used to, and as a warning. An, I can improve your life or make it worse. Your call.
"Quinn." His Lord said, nodding as he smiled. "The Rakghoul problem should be fixed. On this planet, anyway. There's an amulet somewhere that can make more, but I've no idea where that is. Cursed with some sith's spirit, or something. Can't remember the details."
Moff Qalli looked his way. "A sith Lord created them?"
"Well, I mean." Morgan shrugged. "Yes? I'm pretty sure he didn't infect Taris with it on purpose, but we're getting off track. About time a sith fixed another sith's mess, anyway."
Quinn sympathised with the moff's uncertainty, the man having no real experience when it came to dealing with reasonable Lords, and cleared his throat. "Shall we get this meeting started? The battle was won, but Taris is still in a precarious position. And I mean that both geographically, militarily and economically."
"Investors?" His Lord guessed. "Makes sense, I suppose."
The moff nodded. "Investors, yes. A great many will be interested in participating once the word gets out that a living plague no longer infests the planet. And to address the defence concerns, I managed to take three city-sized shield generators with me when I was transferred here. My engineers say they'll be operational within the week, and it will make any invasion of the planet much harder. Too hard to bother, I suspect."
"I'm sure the Republic wants their planet back." Morgan pointed out, looking directed at Quinn when he disagreed. "Right?"
Quinn sighed. He really needed to have a talk with his Lord about responding to people's feelings before they could be expressed. "Yes and no. They will want it back, yes, but I suspect the settlers here will be grateful the Rakghouls are gone. The Republic would look bad if they invade instead of liberate, not to mention the current political climate. They will probably adopt a wait-and-see approach."
"My people have concluded the same." Qalli offered. A small grin tucked at the man's lips. "It is one of the Republic's favourite strategies."
Lord Caro shrugged. "Alright, so Taris is stable for now. What kind of resources does it have? Specifically the ones that you can miss and are of use to the Enosis. Which, I will remind you, you are now a part of. I will be happy to allow a generous amount of independence, but this isn't the Empire. Political manoeuvring will be responded to in the spirit it is started as."
The moff stiffened, however slightly, and Quinn knew the point had been made. The man replied, pulling up a datapad. "Understood. The resources on Taris are as follows, and I have already excluded those unwilling to follow me to the Enosis. Not as large an issue as might be expected, seeing as I took many of my own people here."
What followed was a long, long, list of people, their skills, goods and supplies, military attachments and what supplies they had, the general population and their mood, on and on the list went.
Quinn summarised for his own report. Fifty million people called Taris home, very nearly all coming here during the Republic resettlement initiative. Some had left when the Empire took over, some had actually come here after, but the number was fairly stable. Three large cities, with the old Imperial command center being the largest.
One of those quick-cities, Quinn noted. Built mostly from prefabricated parts, assembled by droids and without any regards to beauty or style. Cramped, with stackable houses rising as high as skyscrapers, and most of it having happened after the Republic had left.
Ironic, that it was during the Empire's occupation that the actual progress had become visible. No Imperial supplies had been used, yet it looked like the Empire had done something where the Republic was content to let their people live in squalor.
After that came the military, about twenty five thousand soldiers, and the four warships they had. Only frigates, and meant to catch smugglers or ward away petty pirates.
And that was the end of it. Nothing the Enosis could use, not immediately, but at least they had someone to trade with now. Space stations, even those as relatively advanced as theirs, had some things planets simply did better.
It was after the moff had left, the door shutting, that Quinn sighed. "So we gain nothing and add another duty to our burdens."
"At least the publicity will be good." His Lord added, forcing a smile. It dropped after a moment. "I honestly don't expect to hold it, but I'll take a pleasant surprise. In another few years, though? The ruins run deep, and construction will be quick with that foundation. I think we had a conversation about that already? When we were here before, I mean."
Quinn shrugged. "If you say so. Master Volryder and company are here and waiting, as requested."
The door hissed open and the four jedi walked inside, his Lord's smile turning more genuine. The two younger jedi stayed somewhat at the back, the Masters taking center stage. Quinn saw his Lord frown.
"Kell, Gasnic." He said, beckoning the Knights forward. They did, bowing politely. "You two seem to be integrating well. Have a cookie."
Kell blinked as Gasnic took two, handing one to his partner, and Quinn startled. A plate of them was right there, in the middle of the table next to some glasses of water, and he hadn't noticed.
He caught Morgan's grin and shook his head. Right, illusions. Quinn resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Kell took a hesitant bite out of her treat, Gasnic having already demolished his own.
"Stop torturing those two." Volryder chided, waving his hand. One of the treats came flying over, settling calmly on his palm, and Quinn caught a satisfied edge to the jedi's smile. "Now tell me what we're here for, please. I was having a rather interesting conversation with someone claiming you fixed the Rakghoul plague."
Lord Caro fixed a polite smile on his face, Quinn taking the time to finalize the report. His aid would usually do it for him, but it had been a closed meeting. "Volryder, Bundu. I did call you here for a reason, yes, and I am only offering some refreshments. I suppose the catching up will have to wait, if you're in a hurry."
"Your soul is doing well." Bundu said, crossing his arms. "I did not enjoy having my skill invalidated."
"Don't look at it like that. You've improved massively, but there's always room for more."
The jedi Master took a moment, then nodded. "I would like to be told of my mission."
"If I knew you were going to be a sore loser I wouldn't have played." Lord Caro muttered. His tone returned to normal, and Quinn spotted a smirk tugging at the jedi shadow's mouth. "Right, the mission. The details are in here, but I'll give you the rundown. Essentially, I need you four to deal with the jedi joining the Enosis."
Volryder raised an eyebrow. "That is what I have been doing."
"Yes. So continue, but more officially and with help. Jedi defectors have been steadily increasing, if still being fairly low in number, and it's creating friction within our training program. Which, I will admit, was not made with them in mind. I know all four of you, I trust all four of you, and the whole thing needs to be restructured."
"I am an assassin." Bundu pointed out. "As are my former colleagues Gasnic and Kell."
Lord Caro shrugged. "I'm aware. But, and I'm speaking bluntly here, I need you back on Delta station. Joining sith and jedi together is only going to work if we approach it very carefully, and I expect fights to break out. Volryder, you'll be in charge."
"A priority message has come through from Darth Hexid." Quinn interrupted, looking at his datapad. "She has flagged it as urgent."
His friend sighed deeply. "Why do things always come at once like that? Better go see what she wants, I guess. Any questions? You have three seconds to decide whether you want the assignment."
Volryder hummed, looking at each in turn, then spoke. "We'll take it."
"Good." Lord Caro waved his hand. "Get out. We'll have a drink tonight, catch up properly, but until then I have to deal with the two Darths I sent to sabotage an Imperial shipyard."
There was some confused blinking, but the four of them shuffled out of the room soon enough. Quinn shook his head, motioning to the holocommunicator on the table. "It's ready when you are."
"Who really needs a break between meetings anyway, right?"
Quinn didn't reply and the call was accepted, the red-skinned zabrak appearing. Her eyes flickered to him before they settled on his Lord, which he found to be a fine state of events.
The Darth all but purred after some silent seconds, Quinn having no idea what had just happened, and her tone was positively flirtatious. "Your desire has been fulfilled, Darth Caro. The Celanonian shipyard won't be repairing much of anything, and Shaar's body has been cut into very many little pieces."
"Must we battle for dominance during every call?" His Lord asked. "I take the attempted assassination of my people seriously."
Hexid smiled, and even Quinn would admit the woman was startlingly attractive. Predatory, too. "Only an attempt, and one you didn't even let come close. What's life without some aggression? But I did enjoy the game you sent us to play, even if I'll need a few days to recover. But if you'd like we can wrestle again some time?"
Quin withheld a sigh as his Lord answered, mostly hinting that he had no one in his life but wasn't interested anyway, and wondered if he was going to have to listen to her unrequited flirting for long.
At least he'd been smart enough not to tell her about Vette. He had no idea what his friend would do if Hexid started digging around there, but it probably wouldn't be productive.
He reminded himself to remind his Lord to tell Vette about her, which would come a lot better from him than just about anyone, and hope that situation didn't blow way out of proportion. He liked the twi'lek, he did, but she was a tad possessive.
And probably capable of actually killing Hexid, these days. Maybe.
Quinn didn't want to find out.
Afterword
Discord (two chapters ahead for the low, low price of your soul) [Check author profile or pinned comment on the chapter.]