Chương 44: Chap 44: Quesh arc: Quest giver

Lana looked to the captain, someone who Morgan had put in charge of essentially everything, and did not like the way she was exchanging banter with her friend on a private line. The enemy would be here sooner rather than not, they might come with weapons and numbers they did not possess, and by the Emperor what kind of place was this?

"Captain, a moment." Kala looked, eyebrow raised. The two times she'd met the rattataki before now she'd been a nervous mess, shooting looks at her boss every other second. Now she seemed almost annoyed by a Lord's very presence, nevermind afraid.

"Should we not be preparing?"

"Clara and I have this under control. High value sith rarely travel without their own ships, especially not the ones likely to come after us, and if Darth Baras arrives we have firm orders to retreat. I count on you to warn me if he does, if that is amenable." Not even phrasing it as a question, the gall. Lana nodded once, expression forcefully neutral.

"I will do so. I will not, however, be able to give advanced warning before they leave hyperspace."

"That's fine. Anything short of a fleet will be dealt with, and if they bring one, well. I have contingencies in place."

"Are you going to share these contingencies?" Lana asked, letting some warning creep into her tone.

"I dislike being kept in the dark." Kala sighed, disappointed, as her friend whispered something.

"If you insist. The Enosis and I have been talking, their Lord somewhat annoyed they tried to kill his friend, and their full might is on route. Should be here soon, though not even I know exactly when. Hyperspace is void-cursed for coordinating, let me tell you. Must have taken me months before I got used to it. Then again, I was hunting pirates. Suppose I got more practical experience than most." Lana was about to reply when the Force poked her, drawing her attention to the side.

Warning the captain proved unnecessary, the woman already barking orders, and three ships appeared a second later. Three heavily armed vessels, if their scanners could be believed, and accompanied by a support fleet. Harrower-class, though she thanked the Emperor it was only the one.

"Now it's a party." The rattataki mumbled, finger tracking something on the console in front of her.

"They launched a breaching pod. At the planet, which is stupid. Assuming they put someone competent in charge of the best warship produced by the Empire, that wasn't a mistake. I do think we found our sith Lords."

"More than three, less than six. No Darth among them." The captain grinned.

"Perfect. Shame we can't blow it up, that would have earned me a day off if nothing else, but at least we don't have to retreat. Clara, defence matrix nine. Let's see if they're feeling confident." Defence matrix nine, apparently, called for them to sit there and do nothing. Even outnumbering them two to one, nevermind missing a support fleet, the enemy didn't attack. Lana wanted to ask why, she really did, but the rattataki made her hesitate.

Too eager for blood, her soul all but singing as she forced the enemy to make the first move. Stalling. Of course. Waiting for the Enosis fleet. She was glad she didn't ask. Naval combat was well outside her area of expertise, but even so appearing slow wasn't good for one's health. Alyssa asked the question she wanted to, though, which was nice.

"Why aren't they attacking?" Kala shrugged.

"Probably waiting until our Lord is dead. Which means they'll have to wait for a while. It'll become real interesting when he slaughters them all, mind you. Then they have to act on their own. Will they run, no longer bound by sith? Will they fight to avenge their masters, filled with rage? Either way, we have plans." That was reassuring. Lana tapped her foot as time dragged on, neither side doing much of anything.

Some posturing, sending out fighters and recalling them soon after, and that one time the enemy fleet had rearranged into a different configuration. She wondered if this was going to be a dramatic last minute rescue, their reinforcements arriving in the nick of time, until their scanners pinged. Twelve. Twelve ships big enough to count as destroyers, a full complement of support vessels with them. She supposed, just for the moment, she had no real idea what exactly the Enosis fielded when they went to war.

Their holoprojector hummed to life, the Enosis Lord appearing. Three men appeared soon after, all human and each old enough to have fought in the last war, who stood opposed. A courtesy, being added to their negotiations? Kala didn't seem surprised.

"This is an operation sanctioned by Darth Vengean." The central captain said, tone curt.

"And by extension the Dark Council. Remove yourself." It was? Lana was pretty sure Baras was behind this, but then again the man was a spymaster. Impersonating a member of the Council would be suicide, usually, but Morgan had told her he was moving to kill the man regardless. Zethix seemed unimpressed, folding his hands.

"You have ten seconds to retreat before I order my ships to attack." The enemy captain didn't reply immediately, eyes flickering to the side.

"You are beholden to Darth Marr, someone who has not approved your presence here."

"Has he not?" Zethix asked, shrugging. He waved his hand, showing a live image on the planet's surface.

"Maybe yes, maybe no. If you're waiting to see who's going to win down on the planet, I'll save you the trouble. Lord Caro is going to kill them, is killing them, and when he's done your time will have run out. So, as he would say, you have a choice to make. Die following the orders of dead men, or retreat." Silence. One of the captains said something the projector didn't pick up, making their leader scowl, and when he still didn't reply the same captain disconnected.

Followed soon after by the second, leaving the man alone. He exhaled, flicking his hand.

"I damn you, Lord Zethix. You and all you hold dear." They retreated. Twenty seconds after the call ended they had control over Hoth airspace, the Imperial presence on the planet more than willing to approve them doing so, and Lana cleared her throat as the devaronian turned to them.

"That went well."

"Better than well." Zethix confirmed.

"That Harrower would have made a right mess of my fleet, but all's well that ends well. Could someone be so kind as to switch their sensors to the planet's surface? I would like confirmation that mine are working as they should, since Mad Mouse just ripped someone's throat out." Mad Mouse? Lana shook her head, ignoring the near insulting name. The holo zoomed in then out, watching Morgan walk over to one of the corpses. That, in words she couldn't quite describe, was not possible.

You'd heard those stories, as an acolyte and apprentice, about titans. Rising up against their Masters with superior skill and power, taking their mantle and inheriting their followers. It happened, the stories came from somewhere, but reality differed. Most who rose against older, wiser and more powerful sith died, forgotten by history, while the few succeeding were often cut down by those still loyal. Even if not, the powerbase would fragment.

A fraction of a fraction would go to the apprentice, who found himself unintentionally acquiring all their Masters enemies. But seeing it, even if she knew it to be possible? For one sith, Lord or not, to kill five? Baras was going to have to answer for that, Darth or not. The Lesser-Lords, as some haughty nobles called them, were a resource shared. Not the best of the best, they'd be someone's apprentice if they were, but indispensable if you needed temporary muscle.

Darth's don't take too kindly to one of their own taking more than usual, let alone getting them killed. A blow to the man's reputation, to be without an apprentice, and a worse one still when it was one of his that did it. Not that it would cripple him. Hurt, maybe, and cause delays, but a man like that played in a league of his own. And still he would answer for it. The bigger issue was Lord Caro himself, turning to face the crafts surrounding him.

No sane commander would throw away his life, and that of his men, to attack now. No, the man was quite safe. For now. She was more worried about herself. The captain's voice rang out, her eyes turning on the image.

"Warm up the guns and get me targeting solutions. Any of those shuttles' twitch, kill them all." More madness. The rattataki woman seemed utterly serious as she ordered her people to commit treason, though Lana supposed it wouldn't much matter now. What's one more battalion of dead men when your Lord angered a Darth? Alyssa and Inara were watching with burning interest, the pureblood tucking a grin away when she looked over. A bloodthirsty pair, those two, and very committed to the cause.

Something about their training with the Enosis. Lana smoothed her own expression when Lord Zethix asked the captains' permission to come onboard, more than happy to ask the man some questions. Questions like; did your friend, which is something rare enough to have in this business, always display insanity like this? Oh, also, why is the Enosis here? You are under the command of Darth Marr, who's not known to meddle in situations like this, so why have you gone behind his back?

Why does no one around here seem surprised we won, or that people don't really seem concerned about becoming an enemy of the Dark Council? Shuttling them over didn't take much time, meaning she would have her answers soon, and Lana frowning at the image as Morgan petted his shoulder. Wounded? No, it seemed to be moving. She inspected it, lost in thought, until the devaronian joined her. Ignoring a flash of irritation, mostly aimed at herself, she pointed to it.

"What's that?"

"It appears to be a pet." Lord Zethix mused, leaning closer.

"Or he's finally lost his mind. Either way, we'll know soon enough."

"Encouraging." He barked out a laugh.

"Don't try to predict that one, I say. He's dancing to music no one else can hear. Regardless, it's a pleasure to meet the woman who's been keeping his attention. Not a small feat, especially not when he's been busy like this. Almost started a war on Taris, I hear."

"You heard correctly." Quinn said, walking up. A gaggle of officers and sith had come with the Lord, looking around curiously, and she saw he'd been talking with them.

"A risky plan, but we managed."

"Good to see you again, colonel. I do hope you've been keeping my friend safe."

"As much as he will allow. He becomes harder to sway by the week, only me and Vette managing it on occasion." Zethix shrugged.

"He'll listen to good advice, and I've never known him to keep quiet on his reasons if not. Have you spoken with major Elarius? He wishes to propose an exchange of service members, I believe. Improving inter-unit cooperation and such."

"He raised the matter." Quinn's eyes flickered to her, settling back on the devaronian a moment later. Something she wasn't supposed to know?

"If I may be so bold, has the major been endorsed? I will have to confirm with my Lord if not."

"In a manner of speaking. By all means, ask for approval before committing to the project, though it was my understanding Morgan was mostly hands-off about these matters. I could be mistaken, of course. It has been a while since we worked together properly." Lana tilted her head.

"You plan to stay? This is not a particularly good time to bind yourself too tightly to our predicament."

"It's the best time." Zethix countered, Quinn raising an eyebrow.

"We go back, Mad Mouse and I, and it is not so strange for us to go against the grain. I do believe, however, that our victorious hero is about to grace us with his presence." The bridge fell silent a second later, near all motion halting as Morgan walked onto the bridge. There wasn't a limp, exactly, but he didn't look great either. A new robe did much to hide the worst of it, and seeing him in that up close made her blink, but he still looked worn out.

Tired, in a word, though she sure wasn't going to comment on that.

"You look like shit." Zethix said, looking him over.

"Worse than that time the overseer had us run for nine straight hours. Still can't believe you only made it through seven, by the way." Morgan sighed deeply, tone as weary as he looked.

"You kill five Lords and you can look like this too, though most people have this thing called tact. Now pretend I'm not here for a few minutes, I need to fix this before Vette sees."

"Four and a half." The devaronian corrected, shaking his head sadly.

"Exhaustion is not an excuse for a lack of basic arithmetic, no matter how challenged the individual."

"How do you even- No, wait, I don't care. Fortuna, hiss loudly at anyone getting too close." Lana snapped her eyes to his shoulder, finding a small, fuzzy animal looking around with utter focus. Not gone crazy, then. She almost believed this was better. Zethix looked at it, as curious as her, but the man had turned his back to the room. She looked at Quinn, somewhat lost and unwilling to admit it. The man shrugged, looking at Zethix. Who, smiling widely, turned to look at her expectantly. Lana narrowed her eyes.

"You're having too much fun with this."

"Look on the bright side." He waved toward space, roughly in the direction the Imperial fleet had been.

"We could be engaged in a highly destructive battle right now, unable to do anything but trust our captains to see us through. I prefer smiling, though I will admit to indulging in some bloodlust on occasion." A ping, the kind made by communicators when receiving a priority message, went off. She looked, tracing the sound towards Morgan. He was holding it in his hand, grunting.

"I guess I'll finish the rest later, then. John, you called. And not stalked onto my ship like a vagabond, I appreciate the courtesy." John waved the matter away as Morgan ignored two curious sith Lords looking at him, grinning broadly.

"Lord Caro, my good friend. Do you have any idea how much money you just made me? Twenty nine to four, if you can believe it. Made me millions."

"Where." Morgan took a breath, ensuring his voice was even. A flex of power and he had some privacy, a technique, he was glad to note, that wasn't any more difficult than usual.

"Were you betting on my fight? On a fight concerning sith Lords, representing Darths, with Imperial fleets in the sky? Did you create it?"

"Don't be absurd. I didn't have to. Anyway, you made me rich. Richer. Awful name, Richard. I pity the poor kid that gets stuck with that. Why do you look so wounded?"

"Are you high? I will actually remove your ability to feel if you called me while high." The man shook his head, piering closer.

"Nope. Why do you look wounded, though? Never seen someone scratch you in a way that doesn't heal in moments."

"Power always has a price. Did you want something? Before I send a squad to drag you back here and have this lovely talk in person, you see."

"Don't be like that." John protested.

"I made you rich too! I split my winnings with Vette, just like she and I agreed. I'm sure she'll buy you something pretty." Morgan shook his head.

"See, that was one step too far. Vette doesn't gamble, least of all on my life. Should have quit when I was only seventy percent sure you were full of shit."

"Damn." Cipher four straightened, raising his drink.

"Good on you, boss. But congratulations are in order, yes? Gambling aside, it seems I backed the right man. Always good to have friends in high places. Regardless, I did indeed have purpose in disturbing your victory. That document you signed, when you pushed me against the wall and threatened to snap my neck, it finally showed results. Namely, information. Information about a little device you should be familiar with. The Ravager." What irritation Morgan felt vanished, eyes narrowing.

"Where?"

"Quesh, stashed there by our good friend Baras. Seems he figured out some tricks, because I couldn't find a single instance of that man ever visiting the planet. That either meant he slipped past my notice, highly doubtful, or he never bothered to show up in person. I did find some of his more discreet projects quietly relocating to this place, along with a steady supply of prisoners that never left. I do think you can piece the rest together, yes?"

"Should have crushed that horrid thing when I had the chance." Morgan hissed, drawing Soft Voices' attention. The devaronian walked up, tilting his head curiously.

"John, one second. Is your fleet ready to leave?" Soft Voice nodded amiably.

"Wherever it is needed."

"Good. We're setting course to Quesh, crushing one of Baras's operations. Think anyone is going to have a problem with that?"

"I do not." Morgan grunted.

"Thank you. I'm sure it'll be a good opportunity for me to get reacquainted with the Enosis. Marr going to be a problem?"

"Short term? No. In a few months? Opinions vary."

"We'll deal with that later, then. Get this fleet moving." The devaronian ambled off towards his command, catching Kala's attention. Morgan turned back to the Cipher, who'd take the opportunity to get a new drink. The man tilted his head.

"Think that's a good idea? Going right this second, I mean. Taking an opportunity when presented is one thing, but this seems rushed."

"Baras is busy." Morgan replied, spending a few seconds to seal an artery. Damn soul-fusing.

"Going to name himself Voice of the Emperor, the actual Emperor is distracted, and I'm more than happy to use it. Probably going to kill his Master before Vengean finds out Plan Zero is fucked and strikes first, too."

"Well, that's some terrifying information you just most assuredly did not tell me. See whole worlds glassed if the wrong people find out, sort of information. Fortunately, I've grown deaf in my old age. Tragic, I know."

"Don't worry, I mostly know what I'm doing." John didn't seem all that reassured, smiling thinly.

"So, what else have you been using my signature for? I doubt it was just spying on Baras."

"This and that. Untraceable, of course, I'm not some hack, but it opened doors. Might have implied I'm working for you."

"You do work for me."

"Details. Speaking of details, my dancer is here." Morgan raised a hand, making the spook pause.

"I won't get between you and entertainment, god forbid, but I'd like to hear a report on what you've been helping Vette with."

"Can't you ask her yourself?" His eyes flickered to the side, returning a heartbeat later. Morgan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and the man sighed.

"Fine, fine. I've been showing her some stuff, tips and the like, but when she got it in her head to free Ryloth we've made it somewhat more official. I am, rest assured, one of the most skilled spymasters in the galaxy. A great teacher, better lover and extraordinary fighter. Humble, too. Anyway, been helping her expand her own network. Good student, her. Sharp mind. Solid choice for a partner. Those green jedi will be a good challenge for her."

"I'm ignoring that until she tells me it's a problem. Regardless, thank you. I'll let you get back to your dancer, who, of course, is not a target in any way, shape or form. See you around, John." He cut the connection as the Cipher opened his mouth to reply, turning back towards the bridge. No one had been paying their talk any attention, his veil had made sure of that, and he cracked his neck. Right, time for some healing.

Lana walked up before he could start, making him half turn, and Fortuna wiggled on his shoulder. He petted the little murder floof as Lana spoke.

"Why couldn't I hear your talk with the spy?"

"That question answers itself, and that's not what you want to ask. Or say, perhaps. I'm a little tired, so forgive my lack of smalltalk." She nodded once, eyes flickering down to the planet. The ship was already turning, angling itself to enter hyperspace, and her eyes returned as the white planet disappeared behind durasteel.

"I have my answer, if you'd still hear it."

"Of course."

"What you just did, ignoring all the complications it caused and enemies you made, doesn't happen. Four sith Lords dead, a force that conqueres planets and changes the outcome of entire starsystems, and a fifth besides. It doesn't happen. Not outside stories. Stories, and the few individuals in a generation marked special. I would be foolish not to see how it plays out, but I do have a condition."

"I figured."

"Allies. I do not know much about your relationship with Lord Zethix, nor about any other contacts you might have, but we would be allies. I am not a soldier to snap at attention, nor an apprentice to order around. Is that amenable?" Morgan looked at her, nodding his head. He briefly contemplated drawing on an Other, filling the Force with his presence, and realised it wouldn't be necessary. So he leaned forwards slightly instead, voice even.

"I understand, and to avoid confusion, I agree. I do, however, have a condition of my own. You see, I am somewhat unconventional for a sith. Have strange ideas about how things should work, hold relationships others might find strange. If one comes up that you disagree with, that stands against your nature, talk to me. We will discuss, compromise, and hopefully resolve the issue. If you, instead, do not? If you spy, attempt to subvert or otherwise work against my goals? I will solve the issue regardless.

That is what I do, you see. I remove impediments." Lana grew still, like he'd see some do when they prepared to attack, but nodded instead.

"I understand. To a fruitful partnership, then?"

"To the very best. We'll be going to Quesh, removing one of Baras's more dangerous operations. I'm sure he'll have something of interest for you to appropriate." She didn't reply as he moved past her, ignoring the look Quinn sent him. Whatever he wanted could wait until his robe wasn't hiding a split torso, though thankfully he'd suppressed the nerves on the way over. He could deal with pain, distance himself and ignore it, but unnecessary suffering sounded a little grim even to himself.

The Force blurred as they entered hyperspace proper, the journey would take time enough without delaying, and he entered a small sideroom when he found it. He sat, ignoring the trickle of blood as a vessel burst, and closed his eyes. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Healing, as he'd more than found out already, was hard. No more leaning on the framework of his soul, letting it take care of growth and guidance.

Now dna had the nasty habit of multiplying out of control, especially when fed energy, and ever so careful guidance was needed to ensure proper mending. Add to that all his biological upgrades, none of which his body really knew about, and he slowed. Almost as much as the resistance he'd gained, though it was a poor comparison. Healing in the middle of battle granted him endurance, allowing the ever so useful technique of trading blows, but unless he got a lot more practice that would have to end.

Or at least be limited. Minutes passed as his body knit itself back together, standing with a deep exhale. No pressure on his lungs, good, and his ribs seemed to be taking the redone enhancements well. Morgan exited the room, leaving the robe behind. As much as it helped with his focus, with letting him detach from the world and look within, they really weren't his style. Not that he had a style. He entered his room still mulling that over, seeing Vette focussed on her datapad.

She lowered it when he sat beside her, dropping in his lap with a sigh, and held the datapad up again. He looked, seeing little more than numbers and statistics.

"You going to explain, orrr?"

"Big battle on Ryloth. A major hutt factory rioted, hanging the overseer with actual rope, and it spread from there. Took over an armoury, fortified the place, you name it. A mercenary army came to take it back, way too valuable to blow up or abandon, and Dorka broke the siege two days in. Big boost to his popularity on the planet, I'm just getting updated on it now."

"Going well, then. Always happy to hear about slavers getting executed. You seem suspiciously nonchalant about my fight." She flicked the screen, showing a playback of exactly that.

"I was watching. My ship might not be as fancy as yours, and I might not really understand what exactly happened, but you are fine. I am, to my horror, getting used to you being near immortal."

"I am very far from immortal." He assured, blinking.

"Wait, that came out wrong. Did it? Anyway, fused my soul to the Force. Slower healing, more resistance."

"Cool. Wait, no, that explains nothing. Didn't you plan to use fleshcrafting? That doesn't sound like fleshcrafting. You owe me many cuddles for nearly dying again, by the way."

"It wasn't. Not that hard, though. Not when I saw how these little things did it."

"So why hasn't anyone who is anyone done what you have? If it's not hard, I mean. Lots of sith and jedi around, stands to reason a few of them would have figured it out themselves." Maybe because they hadn't been pulled through reality and half remembered being dead. Morgan put his chin on her shoulder, watching the Battle of Ryloth's Freedom as it played out.

"Not that hard is understating it a little, perhaps. Anyway. It'll take time until we're at Quesh, which is where we're going by the way, so I'm all yours. Also, meet Fortuna. She's a good little hamster thing, and I think she'll be staying with us." The cricet hissed loudly when Vette reached over to pet her, Morgan admonishing her through the Force, and she begrudgingly settled down to be stroked. Vette cooed at her as he detached the broken armour, mumbling something about fetch, and he leaned back.

Sleep sounded heavenly right about now. He stood on the bridge on the Aurora as Quesh came into view, Lana at his side. Vette had transferred to her own ship on the last jump transit, saying something snide about not wanting to be seen with respectable people, but he didn't lack for company. The entirety of the Enosis was with him, all their ships and sith and soldiers, and from what he could hear tower control was losing its cool.

The communications officer, under firm orders to get them clearance and to not take no for an answer, was dealing with the man. Morgan rolled his shoulder, smiling.

"This might be the least subtle entrance I've ever made, and I've done some fairly blunt operations. This how it always goes?" Soft Voice snorted, back on his own flagship. His holo flickered briefly, interference being filtered out by their systems.

"Marr sent us to warzones, not mining worlds. It is hutt space, admittedly, so that might count, but they are our allies. Or so everyone assures me, but that hasn't stopped some unaffiliated groups from seeking our demise. You know how it goes. Someone seeks to kill you, you're better at it. Anyway, my experience in occupying an Imperially controlled world, infested by Republic elements, is as grand as your own."

"Wonderful. So, I'm usually a get-in-start-smashing kind of guy. How does one go about landing this many troops?"

"You will find power comes with convenience. My people already selected two potential sites relatively close to our objective, though it would be best if we were seen helping the Empire. No need to declare our intentions for all, yes? But assaulting the facility itself will be a grand affair. I've a few battalions of men that need bloodying, as well as a number of sith squads." Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"Right. This seems overkill. We have as many ships as the rest stationed in the system, let alone orbiting the planet, and I'm counting both hutt and Imperial ones combined."

"It'll be fine. Or, at least, no one will complain. If this is an issue of not having anything to do, I'm sure there won't be any objections if you wish to lead the mission?"

"I do want to lead the mission." He replied.

"But at this point we could start in an hour and be gone before dinner."

"Are you complaining that destroying a Darth's secret facility of horrors didn't take long enough?"

"Maybe? I don't know. This used to be harder. Challenging." Soft Voice shrugged.

"The more resources at your disposal the less you have to do yourself. Gives you time for the important things, like ensuring your people do their job, and for training. You won't be complaining when four jedi jump out of the shadows to shank you."

"That happened?"

"Oh yes. Got ambushed on Morellia, helping secure their homeworld from a pirate king. Greedy man, though he had enough ships to warrant our attention. Didn't like it so much when sith started boarding his flagship by the dozens. When we were done, and getting resupplied on the world we just saved, a jedi assassination team found us. Found me. Lost a lot of good men that day."

"Did any live?"

"What do you think?"

"Fair enough. Why'd they send them after you?"

"Because we were winning. Growing. Getting popular, which sith aren't supposed to do. I'm sure that will change if the war starts up again, but for now we kept the peace. Marr gave me operational command with almost no oversight, so I got to choose how to go about it. Wasn't hard to grow a good reputation after that." No, Morgan supposed it wasn't.

"Let me know when we arrive on the planet. Kala, tell Quinn he has command. Soft Voice, work with the man?"

"I am, as ever, eager to cooperate." He walked off, not taking the bait, and slowed as he came to his room. Two Valkyries were stationed outside, which was already unusual, and more so made by the fact they didn't move aside. Morgan opened his mouth to speak, finding he didn't really know what to say. Vette was on the ship, clearly, which she wasn't supposed to be, and since when did anyone block access to his room?

"You two." He waved at them, more confused than anything.

"What. What do you think you're doing? That's an actual question, by the way. I'm curious what logic convinced you this is in any way a good idea." The women straightened, fear starting to build, but didn't move. Or answer, for that matter. Morgan looked around, finding none of his people close by, and swallowed a sigh of relief. Having his men and Vette's people get into a fight was the last thing he wanted. One of the blank faced guards spoke into her communicator, causing something to fall inside.

"A moment!" Vette called, panic in her voice. Morgan sharpened his senses, the only reason he caught the rest.

"Shit, Kala was supposed to stall him if he left early. You two, in the bathroom. Leave it!" Morgan, with a great effort of will, resisted the urge to massage his temples. The guards moved aside, letting him enter, and as he did Vette was casually lounging on the couch. A flex of will and the bathroom door opened, making the two people inside flinch, and he nodded to the door. They scrambled out, nearly falling over each other to leave faster, and he watched the door close with ever growing confusion. Vette waved.

"How's your morning been?"

"Tell me honestly, do I want to know?"

"Yesand? It's good, I swear."

"So you'll show me?" Vette flicked her hand.

"Why would you think it was something that could be shown?"

"Because you had two of your people here to help? And block access to the room, which was kind of rude. So, show and tell or pretend nothing happened?"

"Fine." She huffed, moving to the bedroom.

"It's not polished yet, I wanted it to be shiny, but if you're going to be a dick about it." He followed, curious, and paused as he saw the bed. A suit of armour had been laid out on it, along with two dozen knives, and he looked it over. Sleek, unadorned and functional. Very much like the very first suit they ever bought.

"Is that..?"

"Pure Beskar." She gloated, tapping it.

"Head to toe. The knives as well, and I splurged a little. Should you lose one, or they get destroyed somehow, you'll have spares. The rush job cost extra, the bastard smith charges through the nose, but what's the point of extreme wealth if you can't armour those you love?" He picked up the pieces, making the thing float and inspecting it as he did. A smile broke out over his face, gently depositing the set back on the bed.

"It's perfect. Thank you."

"That's not the gift." She dismissed.

"Worth a lot, sure, but I stipulated it had to be something you actually cared about. So, I did something not so nice. I dug into your past." Morgan slowed, turning to her fully.

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry. I know you don't talk about it, I wasn't going to, but I was drawing blanks." Vette fidgeted, looking somewhere over his shoulder.

"I didn't find much, at first, and gave up never to mention it again. But then I asked John, cause I can't leave anything well enough alone, and he told me the deepest he'd been able to dig himself was just before you arrived on Korriban. Found onboard a captured Republic cruiser, with no record of you boarding, and that's it." She swallowed, talking faster.

"No digital footprint, no image of you on any station, ship or planet. It's like, one day, you appeared on a ship without warning or reason. John thinks there's an explanation, some experiment gone wrong or a twist of fate, but that's not it, is it? Because you just materialised one day, didn't you?"

"Pretty much." He admitted, moving back a step.

"First thing I remember in this universe is being shackled to that transport, not being a passenger on a cruiser, but yes. I shouldn't be here." Vette cringed at his tone, moving a step closer. He held up a hand, making her stop.

"I'm sorry. I know this brings up bad memories."

"I presume there is a purpose to this, then?"

"Yea. I found this." She leaned behind the bed, pulling out a square. Morgan's eyes drew to it, considering. Not a square, a holocron. An old holocron.

"I can't open it, obviously, but the collector we got this from said that the tomb it was found in contained a script. A script talking about people appearing from nowhere, telling stories of places no one could find." He took it as she handed it over, turning it around and around.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"A little while. Since after Tatooine." Vette said, sounding apologetic.

"I didn't want to tell you in case it turned out to be nothing, and the longer it went on the more I kept stalling. I really am sorry."

"So you've said. There was a reason I didn't tell anyone, Vette. Not because it's dangerous, or even all that private, but because it's done. Over. It happened, I suffered, and now I'm past it. If you'd wanted to know you could have asked."

"I know. I should have. Bad habits, I suppose. I kinda fucked this, didn't I? Are we. Are you alright?" Morgan took a moment, taking a deep breath, and wrapped her in a hug.

"You kinda did, but we're fine. Like I said, not something I kept because it was a secret. For the record, my gift didn't come with emotional strings." Her arms tightened in what would probably have been an uncomfortably strong hold, the pressure feeling like feathers against his skin. Inhuman, he realised. He was inhuman. More human? No longer mortal, though that would imply he was immortal. A demi-god?

"Not to be a nag, really, and yes this is me attempting to distract you, but you did promise to practise that thing we talked about. And the best practice is with a willing volunteer, someone who might be feeling a little guilty and thus less inclined to be a brat." He frowned at her disapprovingly, the corner of his mouth twisting up.

"Only if you buy me dinner after." Soft Voice turned back to the planet as the holo disconnected, feeling Mirla step up next to him.

"This is a mistake. I say this not because I disapprove, but because someone has to."

"Are you not happy to see our old friend again, general?" His tone turned humorous, raising an imperious eyebrow.

"Or do you not believe we should support him?" She scowled.

"Don't try to get me stabbed, and you know as well as I do that the title is ceremonial only. Besides, I apologised for the incident already."

"Yet I feel disinclined to stop, so here we are. Do voice your concerns, though. It would be poor ethics to ignore the advice of my second in command."

"You know why." Mirla sighed, throwing up a privacy shield.

"Making an enemy of Marr is bad enough without making one of Baras too. We were doing fine, building up resources and manpower while supporting him from the shadows. Astara was keeping everyone guessing, expanding her intelligence division tenfold while doing so, and the Reborn haven't made much noise after Lord Caro had a talk with major Elarius."

"Yet the organisation grows faster than ever, solidifying their ranks and planning for the future. But they are not why I act, and the major knows not to push the issue. No. Hoth was a turning point, I can feel it in my bones, and the time for distance has passed. We are here, we will support him as best we can, and that is that." Mirla set her jaw.

"Kripaa agrees with me."

"And how is our resident special forces commander? I haven't spoken to him in a few days."

"He agrees with me." She repeated, a flicker of annoyance passing her shields. Soft Voice turned to her fully, for she was far too well trained for that to be anything but on purpose.

"We ran the numbers, double checked our preparations, and we aren't ready. An influx of recruits would break us, nevermind that we don't possess the facilities to train them. Not properly. Any true pressure, even from just another Lord, would see it all shatter." Soft Voice raised an eyebrow.

"And who do you imagine will rush to crush us so? What happened with Master Karr on Nal Hutta few know about, let alone understand. Hoth, on the other hand? It is spreading far and wide. The Fleshcrafter Lord killed five and broke from his Master, rallying more to his side. What fool will hurry to challenge him, alone or not, instead of waiting? Seeing if someone else will try first?"

"That's hope, not strategy."

"It is the study of sentient nature. We have time in that regard, not so much when it comes to Mad Mouse. If we act too late, we will be set aside." Mirla paused her protest, tilting her head.

"What?"

"Oh, not intentionally." Soft Voice said, waving his hand.

"Nor with malice, but we will be one among many. He has goals to fight for, tasks to complete and quests to finish. He will need tools and resources for this, manpower and champions and more. If we do not supply them, he will not ask. He will simply get them on his own, firm in his belief we are doing something important and are not to be disturbed."

"Oh. I had not considered this."

"Because you do not know him as well as I do, which, as time passes, we become equals in. He is hard to predict, yes, but I can follow his logic. Understand his motives. If that changes we will be no better than the sycophants that will flock to him, the moffs swearing allegiance for political gain." He grunted.

"Enough of this. We have troops to land and plots to hatch, both of which I would rather do as long as both the Empire and Republic aligned hutts are scrambling." Mirla held up a hand, tapping on her datapad. She showed a message, meant for Imperial high command and clearly intercepted, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, we knew Marr wouldn't exactly be pleased. Still, we discussed this. He will be too busy with Baras's powerplay, and stopping the whole Council from descending into civil war, to do much to stop us. We secured our supply lines, both through Vette and other means, so that order doesn't mean much."

"It still limits how much we can interact with and rely on other Imperial elements. A non-compliance order isn't too strict, maybe, but you can't bully officers into submission with your Lordly status anymore. Not when they can hide behind it."

"We'll be just fine. I must speak with Elarius, get a few things straight. Are your fears assuaged? Contrary to my manners, I do appreciate them." She dismissed the privacy field with a twist, nodding.

"They are, for now. I'll take over here." Soft Voice nodded to her, stepping past as she took command. It was routine, really, switching back and forth. Exactly what a competent officer should be. A moment and he was off the bridge, walking through corridor after corridor as his people prepared for war. It wouldn't be likely, not on as large a scale as they were used to, but he found it was better to be prepared.

As such, when he stepped onto the deck reserved for the major and his men, he wasn't surprised to find them doing the same. Captains nodded while lieutenants saluted, both ranks inspecting men and sith alike. A tight ship, he would admit. Men and women spending near every moment honing themselves for combat. All Reborn, too, though it wasn't the extent of his influence. The major stood as he entered the man's office, bowing low. It was interesting, Soft Voice found, how respect had evolved.

Soldiers salute and sith bow, but what if you are both? If you wear a troopers uniform but are trained in the Force, are embedded with a squad of sith but hold no dominion over it? It mostly came down to situational awareness, as it usually did. He was here not as the major's superior officer, in fact he had no military rank at all, and so the man bowed. Had Mirla walked in here, to discuss troop placements or other, he would have saluted. A quirk of their unique nature.

"How can I be of assistance, Lord?" Ellarius asked, bringing him back to the present.

"Unless you are here to observe one of my men?"

"I am here for you. Colonel Quinn tells me your request to be attached to his command has been approved, with special orders to accompany my friend on any mission he might be undertaking." The major nodded.

"A privilege. I will ensure no shame will be brought on your name."

"You do not have the ability to bring me shame. I bring this up because, sometimes, people can have the wrong idea about Lord Caro. Have strong reactions when their ideal does not match with reality. This will be avoided."

"I am not a cultist." Ellarius answered, clearly resisting the urge to sigh.

"Nor a fanatic, zealot or extremist. Neither, to the best of my ability, are my people. We will not, to be blunt, freak out should he act in an unexpected manner." Soft Voice nodded, waving to the seats. He sat, the major following a beat after.

"I am not worried about him, you understand. He will butcher the lot of you, should you force his hand, though he will not enjoy it. No. But if this does occur, which I dearly hope will not, it will create tension. Mistrust. Fractions in faction as brother fights against sister."

"I am the last person to raise doubts as to his ability, I really am, but no man is an army. Not even a sith Lord. The Enosis taught us this, to hunt in packs and bring down the goliath. Many will die, of that I am sure, but no one is immortal."

"For the average Lord, this is true." Soft Voice said, tapping his leg twice.

"I myself helped bring down a jedi Master on Balmorra, one far above my own ability at the time, using such tactics. But there is an exception to every rule, one you will see in action soon enough. I have tolerated you, watched you skirt the line and climb ever higher, because it will benefit someone I care about. Don't disappoint me, yes?" Ellarius nodded, more curtly than before, and he stood when no reply was forthcoming. A short meeting, just as he liked them, but one that would hopefully mitigate any problems.

He stretched when the door closed, shielding the major from view, and looked at his datapad. Mirla had forwarded an invite from the local moff, Dracen, and he chuckled as he skimmed it. He had more than enough experience with their ilk to know he was being summoned, framed in pretty words and more, and briefly contemplated not going. Then he shrugged, double checking Mad Mouse had also received a copy, and started walking.

Might as well see what the man wanted, probably going to try and make them do something they weren't here for, but his statement about assisting the local Imperial presence still held true. Not that he was going to commit much. Just those that needed bloodying, maybe some sith for good measure. Nevermind all, that wasn't going to happen, and he pressed the elevator button as ideas condensed into a plan. A rough plan, but one all the same.

Time passed as he assembled his guard, adding a company of men just because, and his friend joined their transport a few hours later. A big transport, at that, though he hadn't memorised its make. A captured pirate vessel, surprisingly well put together, and further modified to allow quick troop deployment. Mad Mouse inspected it briefly, nodding to the sith squad assigned to the mission. The six strong team bowed nearly as one, making his friend raise an eyebrow, and Soft Voice shrugged.

"They do that. You read the briefing?"'"Shaking hands and presenting a strong front, nothing I haven't done before. I might be accused of ignoring local problems in favour of my mission, in the past, but I suppose we'll need his supplies?"

"Need is a strong word, but it would be convenient. Resupplying this many ships is always an annoyance without the Imperial Logistic Network to call upon. Harder now that Marr is blocking us, but not impossible. Could have been more vindictive, that's for sure."

"Maybe he doesn't want to lose a handful of Lords like Baras did." Morgan snorted, turning thoughtful.

"Think you, Lana and I can take a Darth?"

"Depends on who they serve." He answered, weighing the odds.

"And how well Lady Beniko does in a fight. Not that they're going to send one. An insult to whoever they send, for one, and they're only ever two dozen of those. No Dark Council member is going to sully himself coming after us themselves, not even Baras, and only their direct apprentices can be Darths."

"Why are you lecturing me on things I already know?" Soft Voice nodded to the gaggle of sith surrounding them, each paying close attention.

"I like to sprinkle knowledge around when I can. But, to answer the question, maybe. One of the weaker Darths, if we ambush them, though we better hope it isn't Lachris. I don't think she'll be too happy we broke from her Master, being her favourite on Balmorra notwithstanding, and I'd like to avoid becoming Marr's personal enemy." They talked as the transport lifted off, mostly keeping it light and catching up.

Hearing about his friends exploits was fun, especially while comparing them with the rumours, and getting to brag in return even more so.

"And then." He said, twenty minutes later and smiling fondly.

"Her father found us. You should have seen his face, truly. Angry like no one I've ever seen, yet unable to do a thing without the risk of war. Then he got his Lord involved, and things got a little less funny. Not going back to Sembla without invading the place, that's for sure. Damn nasty assassins, even for Force sensitives." Mad Mouse grinned, shaking his head.

"I'll take from that that you're a manwhore, got it."

"I like having fun." He rebuked smoothly, tilting his head.

"Say, why aren't my sith pretending they can't hear? Oh. That's a very smooth privacy veil." His friend shrugged.

"Thanks. Practice makes perfect and all that. I do believe we're landing, but I want to hear more about this woman that has captured your heart so."

"I slept with her once. Well, not once, but I only knew her for a week." Soft Voice looked, seeing he was right. He also saw a company of gleaming soldiers, as well as an officer he could already tell was meant to delay them somehow, and he grunted.

"Let the fun begin." Mad Mouse joined him as the doors opened, stepping on the planet as soldiers shot to attention. He paid them no mind, glancing at the enclosed hangar, and noticed two syringes being carried by a nearby medic. The officer, a captain by his jacket, bowed.

"My Lords. Welcome to Quesh, we hope your stay here will be fruitful. Moff Dracen has cleared his schedule to meet with you. Please, if you would bare your forearms? The planet's atmosphere is unsafe to breathe without proper inoculation."

"Curious." His friend summoned one of the vials, making the medic startle, and sniffed it. Soft Voice smiled as if he knew what the man was doing, putting the captain somewhat at ease, and Mad Mouse shook it.

"Done. Nothing foul I can detect, not biological, and it's fairly pure stuff. Here." His shoulder was tapped, Soft Voice dropping shields without complaint, and he felt absolutely nothing as his friend nodded.

"Done?"

"Hyper-stimulated your immune system like the vaccine would have. I'll do the rest of the men in a second, though just the sith. Don't feel like spending twenty minutes doing something they made machines for." The captain swallowed, an uncertain smile on his face. Hoping to keep their escort back under the excuse of 'we didn't bring enough inoculations', probably. Hah. He loved seeing people deal with his friends' bullshit.

His escort followed as they walked, the captain leading the way after finding no good excuse to keep them back, and in truth there wasn't much to see. Just another air-polluted, highly industrialised world that would probably be utterly unlivable within the next century, companies extracting as much wealth as they could in the meanwhile. The fact Quesh was home to some very valuable gases and such, among other things, didn't change the fact it was a wasteland.

He tilted his head as they entered the moff's building, feeling an aura blink. He flexed back, Mad Mouse doing the same a moment later, and the unknown signature whisked away. Another Lord, they seemed to be flourishing this time of year, though not a particularly strong one. Pretty good at keeping himself unnoticed, though, even if he hadn't been looking.

"My Lords." The moff said as they entered, the captain closing the door behind them. The Lord stayed silent, blood red eyes watching them over a masked face.

"It is a pleasure to host such fine company. Are you here to join in the war against the Republic?" Soft Voice smiled, waving his guard outside. A bit crude, showing up with force, but he found it helped deal with high ranked Imperials.

"Quesh houses something we desire, but you are our host. We would be amenable to an exchange of services."

"I see, I see." Dracen nodded, turning to the unnamed Lord.

"Allow me to introduce Lord Evergrice, on loan from Darth Vowrawn. He specialises in, let us say, creative problem solving." The man sucked in a laboured breath, Soft Voice found it a little much, and nodded to them jerkily.

"My Master's Master greets you, Lord Zethix. My Master's Master greets you, Lord Caro. With our combined attention, with our combined might, Quesh will be burned free of all the rats. All the rats." Mad Mouse blinked as Soft Voice nodded back, uncaring about the man's idiosyncrasies.

"It probably would, yes. Who am I speaking with, if I can be so rude? You or the moff?"

"Moff Dracen is head of all Imperial forces on Quesh. All Imperial forces." The moff inclined his head, pivoting back to them.

"Lord Evergrice wishes to keep his focus narrow, something that lets us play to both our strengths. And I think I know what you are referring to, Lord Zethix. You understand the Dark Council has made it difficult to aid you."

"And they have made it difficult for me to aid others." Soft Voice countered.

"Nor have they forbidden anything. They must have their reasons, something I am not going to speculate on here, but it seems any deal we make is up to us."

"Does Lord Caro not speak? Not speak?" Evergrice asked, more curious than hostile.

"Does he not wish for something? Crave for something? Does he not deal with us? Does he insult us?" His friend turned to the sith, raising an eyebrow. Armour glinted, Soft Voice just now realised it was a different suit than what he'd worn on Hoth, and when he spoke his tone was flat. Uncaring. Distracted?

"When I insult you, no clarification will have to be asked."

"I'm more than happy to speak for us both." Soft Voice said, interrupting whatever Evergrice had been about to say. The Lord fell silent, eyes flickering back and forth.

"So, moff Dracen, shall we deal?"