Chương 58: Chap 58: Growing Rebels arc: Expand

Colonel Ellarius watched with growing satisfaction as the pirate-fleet surrendered, another nine ships added to the fleet. Three, more realistically, since six looked fit only to be scrapped, but it would be a good addition to Enosis ranks. He and the other colonels had something of a game going, unofficially, to see who could contribute the most ships. Pabrinas was currently in the lead, the man seeming very familiar with this kind of operation, while the Reborn stood second.

Oeries came third, the muun new to command but brilliant nonetheless, and Tirish was last. Not her fault, really, since she was mostly focussed on training. Still contributed eight warships, and unlike most, hers were converted civilian freighters. Converted by her own people, at that, which made them uniquely diverse. Thousands of his soldiers moved to properly secure the new ships, Ellarius turning away from the windows.

A little dramatic, and he got his actual information from the orders his people verbalised, but it ensured he was left alone to think. The communications officer called his name and he sighed, moving over. Then straightened as the holo sprang to life, a sith Lord looking back at him.

"Lord Zethix." Ellarius saluted, surprised. The devaronian didn't look great, cheeks sunken and limbs thin, but his eyes seemed to blaze with power.

"How can I be of service?"

"When you are done with your current assignment, report to Gamma Station. They'll take care of your ships, and moff Vylon has requested your assistance with scavenging from the Battle of Irridun. Irridun. That must have been the fourth time the Republic and Empire fought over that worthless place, and he still wasn't entirely sure why. Not strategically important, holding no resources or production capabilities worth the effort and sparsely populated besides.

"Of course, Lord." He replied.

"Estimated numbers?"

"Over a hundred ships combined. Take everything that isn't nailed down, patch what ships are still whole, you know the drill." The communication closed, Ellarius sighing again. It would be his second time there, third overall for the Enosis, and they'd gotten good materials there in the past. Still, he wished to be out here. In Wild Space with its pirates and slave-companies, burning that rot away so the people might be free. But orders were orders, so he would do as he was told.

"Welcome, and congratulations on being accepted as probationary citizens of the Enosis." She let that sink in, the hundred and eight people in the room shifting in their seats. A rough mix of the fortune-seeker, the desperate and the defector, none of the groups liking one another much.

"I'll explain what that means in a moment, but we'll have to go through mandatory sanitation and health screening first. Please stand and make your way to the shower modules." The group did, shuffling over. Some looked overjoyed, others bored. The fortune seekers disgruntled they had to shower with the filthy people, but soon enough they'd all look alike. Taking their clothes while providing new ones, all in the name of health, was fairly thin reasoning. Worked, though.

They'd get them back anyway, and she wasn't going to stand for classism. It took nearly an hour, which was actually on the quick side, but everyone got back. Talked over the complementary fruit and drink stand, even the richer of the crowd happy to munch on fresh apples. Not every sort of fruit had been adapted yet, but the greenhouse initiative was well underway. Seating assignments were ruthlessly, if politely, enforced by her assistants, the groups suddenly unable to tell each other apart.

The general boost to vitality helped with that, one of the main perks of joining the Enosis, and now that everyone was clean even she had trouble separating them again.

"Please ensure all of your belongings are properly labeled." She said, mostly to make people quiet down. Some looked uncertain, but no one got up again.

"Now, work and living arrangements. During initial intake each of you has answered questions about skills and preferred employment, which will dictate to which station you will be sent." The holoprojector flickered to life, showing each of the three options. She pointed to the first.

"This is Gamma Station, the most civilian focused of the three. People working in agriculture, engineering and general support will most likely end up there. It is the largest, and some of you will have noticed the rough build, but don't let that fool you. Its housing and support facilities are on a higher average standard than you will find anywhere but on the Core Worlds."

"The second." She continued, pointing.

"Delta Station. Those of you who are Force sensitive, the testing of which will be conducted later this afternoon, will spend at least some of your time there. Remember; no matter your strength in the Force, it is training that matters most. And while it is not mandatory to use your gift while you live here, be that in the military or not, you will find the Enosis provides strong incentives to do so." She looked over the room, noting a woman clutching tightly to her two boys.

She felt fear, her senses picked that up easily enough, but also excitement. She pointed to the last of the stations.

"And last but not least, Omega Station. Military and Navy personnel ply their craft there, and it is the one with the least extensive civilian population. Travel between Gamma and Delta station is both free and encouraged, but any who wish to set foot on Omega need a good reason to do so. It is, as they say, by invite only." Several younger men and women looked intent, leaning forward in the seats.

The Chosen were rumoured to be stationed there, which she actually knew to be false, but their ranks were the highest non-Force users could theoretically rise. Without going through either the Naval or Military academies, naturally, but she wasn't going to bore her audience with that.

"Now, it has been four months since the start of the Republic-Imperial war, the Treaty of Coruscant having collapsed and war broken out. Enosis space is distinct from both, and as such does not necessarily follow laws from either. Please consult your manual should you have any concerns, though much of it will be as you are used to. Continuing on, every citizen is expected to undergo twice yearly medical examinations, where matters of general health can be discussed…"

She continued her speech and slipped into well-worn material, briefly wondering how her colleagues were getting on, before her mind went to lunch. Few things remained interesting at their seventeenth repetition. Vette's ship slowed as it entered Enosis territory, which was somewhat grander than it used to be. Somewhat meaning tenfold, and grander meaning heavily patrolled. Fortunately, dating their boss's boss had its perks, and her ship was cleared to enter without issue.

Her Valkyries busied themselves looking busy, Vette all but able to feel their unease. Their ranks had grown in recent times, and only their captain Jess had actually been among the Enosis before. The rest of the old guard was away, ensuring Dorka didn't get his head blown off, the fifty million credit bounty making that a fairly difficult job. Who knew stealing a planet from the hutts would get them so riled up?

The Valkyries weren't creatures of money, though, so one of the few groups in her little organisation she could trust to keep the man safe. That and his own clan of Mandalorians, though that was a different thing entirely. Honestly, it was all starting to get a little hard to keep up with. It had been months since she'd even seen Morgan in person, half that without getting into a fight, and it was making her antsy.

Sure, she was doing more good now than she ever could alone, but she was still a creature of direct action. Well, it was all arranged now. Miraka and her army of slicers were securing her financial empire, Amelia the Goddess-sent taking care of a large amount of organisational work and Dorka himself waging endless war. War against both the Cartel and the Exchange, though the two were more busy with each other than her.

Only by a small margin, her stealing Ryloth earned her plenty of attention, but her competitors had a very violent history. Being the third largest syndicate in the galaxy sure was tiresome. Making sure her competition didn't cease their hostilities, or worse - unite, and then worming her way ever closer to being able to smack them over the head with sticks. At least the money was good.

"Ranging Shadow, you are approaching Delta Station. Please state the nature of your visit and submit your credentials for verification." Two frigates altered course to intercept her, which she found somewhat rude, but then they took the sanctity of their sithy-homebase very seriously. She would have made fun of it to their face if it wasn't where Morgan lived.

"I'm going to fuck your supreme leader." The quip went unanswered and Vette frowned, finding that Jess had muted her moments before she spoke. Her captain sent her a look, sighing.

"Please don't antagonize the extremely well armed, well organized and massively dangerous sith cult this close to their war-stations."

"I'll antagonize whomever I damn well please." She snarked back, raising an eyebrow. Jess let go of the mute button, making Vette speak again after sending over her proof-of-identity.

"Visiting a friend."

"Acknowledged, Ranging Shadow. Credentials verified. Docking bay four is available for use, and a flight path transmitted." The line went dead and the frigates altered their course again, Vette rolling her eyes.

"It's like everyone is allergic to fun. They literally stole the station we're going to yet treat it like their self-made paradise. Honestly, some people." Jess looked at her strangely and Vette shrugged, knowing she had picked up a few weird phrases from Morgan. The pilot accelerated and it distracted her captain, so Vette slunk back to the cargo hold. Not exactly a big ship, though capable of running from pretty much anything now that the isotope-5 engine was installed, but big was relative.

Shut herself in her quarters as Amelia nodded to her, the woman busy typing away on a datapad. Doing Goddess knows what, and Vette wasn't going to ask. The togruta would probably spite her by answering. Enosis ships increased in number the closer they got to the station, her chamber console showing an tactical overview of their immediate surroundings, and the station itself registered as a massive blob. Technically able to move, which is how they got it here in the first place, but not built for speed.

In stable orbit around the sun, gleefully soaking up the energy. Redundant power sources were always good, even if the Sirius System didn't have the brightest star. She already knew the mining was excellent, thousands upon thousands of droids busy stripping the system clean, and defence installations had been installed. Railgun platforms, essentially. Slow moving but heavily armoured, stationed around strategic points. She assumed so, anyway.

Would be wasteful otherwise, and if the Enosis was anything it wasn't that. Her ship landed and she set foot on the station, Morgan inhabiting the same space as her for the first time in months. Building empires took time, but she had progress to show for her work. And she missed him, Vette sternly reminded herself. Work-brain truly was an insidious thing. She was very curious to see what he'd been up to in turn. Morgan grunted and shook his head, Soft Voice raising an eyebrow.

"That bad?"

"You're healing." Morgan allowed.

"But it's going slowly. I can't heal your soul the same as I do my own, and even though there isn't anything missing, Lachris managed to injure it anyway. Somehow."

"A Darth does as a Darth will. It's disconcerting, losing eighty kilos of muscle, but nothing I won't get back. I can feel it, though. My soul and the Force. Much more so than I used to." Waving dismissively, and closing his active perception, Morgan shrugged.

"Perspective can't be taught. I'd say another few days and your soul will be stable enough it'll stop trying to injure your body. Rebuilding the muscle yourself would be good for you, but I can do it if you'd rather not bother."

"I'm not particularly good at fleshcrafting." The devaronian sighed.

"Just doesn't click for me, for some reason. Trust me, I'd happily learn to regenerate, but it's going to take me a few years to work my way upwards." Morgan snorted.

"Yes, well, you survived a direct soul attack without any way to lessen the damage. Trust me, nothing is going to mess with it once you learn proper manipulation." Soft Voice's eyes glowed for a brief moment, grinning a who-says-I-haven't-already smile, and Morgan turned towards the door. Left his friend behind without so much as a goodbye, grinning as he heard the man huff. Delta Station was still fairly new to him, sure, but the last few months had allowed him to appreciate the sheer size of it.

Stolen by Tirish in a reckless, or brilliant, assault against a corporation that no longer existed. Recklessly brilliant, that summed up the colonel well enough. Big enough for half a million souls, once the cramped living spaces had been refurbished. Construction droids and engineers made short work of that, especially after their rakatan factory spit out a few dozen worker droids capable of limited self-replication, and Morgan smiled as he remembered the discussion about that.

Or a fight, really, between him, Soft Voice, Lana, Quinn and Kala. The rest of high command had stayed out of it, trying to stay still as the first real disagreement within the Enosis happened right in front of them. He and Kala had been for it, it would speed up their growth tremendously, while Lana had been arguing both sides.

Soft Voice and Quinn had looked at him with sheer disbelief as he dismissed their fears of an uprising, citing the fact that the very machine building the self-replicating droids had in fact rose up against them, but Morgan had held firm. Listened everyone out, gave his opinions and arguments, before putting his foot down. Safeguards were put in place, the most impressive of which being that the self-replication would worsen the further the generations went along, and Morgan had mostly put it out of his mind.

He had shared his strange confidence they wouldn't go rogue with Soft Voice later, then with Lana as his friend proved useless, but they hadn't been able to pinpoint why. Some intuition left over from when he crippled the rakatan machine, they determined, combined with his occasional non-combat Force intuition. Or the fact he didn't feel overly threatened by a machine uprising. Confidence aside, he did have somewhere to be. Specifically, Vette's soul had entered the Sirius System.

Along with several Force sensitive Valkyries, though that last part was a guess. They could be random Force sensitive people, but Vette liked her Norse-cosplaying guards. He tracked her soul easily enough and made his way to docking bay four, not earning a second look from anyone he came across. The station was filled with sith, and these days they had some very competent people among them, but his stealth was too advanced. Too deeply aligned with his own intent. Vette, of course, spotted him at once.

Even among the Enosis, where he spread the practice of not overly relying on the Force, people rarely recognized him. It was only when their perception screamed at them to notice that they did, but his girlfriend did not suffer from the same blindness. Wrapping her in a hug, and ignoring the way she purposely tried to make them both fall, he smiled. Murmured sweet things as she complained about his increased strength, though it wasn't like she had been able to match him before.

He spotted a few Valkyries a ways back, keeping their distance. Morgan ignored them.

"People are staring." She admonished, her tone fake-shy.

"At least wait until we're in private." Morgan raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on his face.

"One, I put up a privacy screen the moment you started sprinting. People won't pay attention, and the more they do the less they see. I do love intent-based Force techniques, and it's less intrusive than people seeing a patch of nothing, and I'll stop talking about that now. Two, you're the one being grabby. Three, no that's pretty much it."

"You wanted me to, dressing like that." Vette grinned impishly, ignoring his state of dress entirely. T-shirt and loose-fitting pants, neither coming even close to form-fitting.

"Besides, a guy likes it when we do that. It's a compliment."

"I'm going to have the Enosis rewrite their sexual-harassment laws."

"Then you can't do all those fun things to me I've corrupted you into liking." He picked her up with the Force, earning him a glare, and put her down an arms length away.

"I was corrupted long before I ever met you, thanks. Back for ten seconds and already I feel my intelligence eroding."

"Bah." She scoffed, bounding up and attaching herself to his shoulder.

"Come then, prudish-one. Explain to me why you fired every engineer with a sense of style." Shaking his head, and grinning despite himself, Morgan led her along. He kept the privacy screen, a small price to pay to prevent the horrific rumours.

"We stole Delta Station. Gamma Station is the ugly one, fused as it is from our old shipyard and the moon training facilities. That was always meant to be temporary, anyway, and structural integrity is more important than aesthetics."

"The station is ugly." She declared.

"Should have stolen a pretty one." Morgan looked at her and spoke with a dry tone.

"I'll let you steal us the next one, oh great queen of the underworld. You took over, what? Twenty five galaxy-spanning crime organisations in your relentless drive for power?"

"Renting two offices at opposite ends of the cosmos does not make a minor laundering scheme galaxy-spanning." Vette complained.

"How did you even know about that stuff?"

"You had Amelia send me weekly updates. I, heaven forgive me, read them. Risen to the third largest crime syndicate in the galaxy in a few months, your only true competition busy being at war with each other. I'm proud of you." Vette beamed, employing fake-modesty which he saw through immediately.

"Aaw, I love you too. At a certain point you grow big enough that absorbing comparatively small organisations is easy, so expansion skyrockets. The real trick is keeping it all together when you do."

"Like Agar. io." Morgan replied sagely. She shot him a frown, earning a sigh.

"Nevermind. I am proud of you, you know? There'll always be criminals and those who wish to employ them, but under you the true horror of it will be kept in check. Regulated." She shook her head.

"Says mister I'm-creating-a-utopia. Do you even know how many people are chasing the dream of the Enosis? It's a miracle you haven't been found."

"I employ people who are very good at managing secrets." He said.

"Besides, space stations have this nice benefit of being able to move. Hyperspace and all, though we need advanced warning to manage it. A fleet helps."

"Ah yes, you and your habit of stealing everything that can fly. I hope you're holding drills, by the way, or people are going to die when you yank them into hyperspace."

"Twice monthly. It's a wonder what people will put up with when you give them food, housing and free healthcare." Morgan paused, shrugging.

"But only if they're not used to it. And Well, that sounded terrible, but I suppose I am a military dictator." Vette leaned on his shoulder, somehow not falling over as they walked.

"A very nice dictator. Well, nice to those who are under your charge, anyway. You tend to get mean to people that don't leave you well enough alone."

"Look, a distraction." She looked, which he was somewhat caught off-guard by, and saw moff Vylon purposefully walk over towards them. The man wouldn't be able to see or hear anything they were doing, not really, but Morgan would grant that it was pretty obvious they were here. For those looking, anyway. The man stepped through the field, Morgan seeing the man suppress a moment of uncertainty and fear as he did, but his face never changed. Used to being in control, clearly, both of himself and others.

"Did you just walk up to your Lord, unable to verify he wasn't busy, and decide it didn't matter?" Vette asked, curious. Her hand not currently wrapped around Morgan's shoulder fingered her blaster.

"Bold man. Rude, too." Vylon floundered briefly as he saw Vette, who was wrapped around his shoulder, and Morgan found that fair. She wasn't particularly well known in the Enosis, these days, and only the old guard would really know her by sight. The moff was someone who liked to be well informed, though, so he put two and two together. Bowed his head, which took Vette off-guard, and Morgan was glad she could still be flummoxed.

"Lady Vette. It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of the founder of the Medinal Corporation." If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. Meaning he knew she ran a very big, very effective criminal empire. Morgan really did like competence. Vette recovered smoothly, only Morgan's unique brand of familiarity allowing him to catch her surprise, and smiled with altogether too many teeth.

"Moff Vylon. How do you like serving Morgan? Must be better than the Empire, considering you're here." The insult went unanswered, the moff ignoring her, and Vette's soul hissed. Morgan rolled his eyes, nudging her aside as he nodded to the man.

"Is it urgent, Vylon? You don't leave Gamma station all that often."

"Not as such, Lord. But it is something we should discuss soon. Reports of the Battle of Irridun have come in, colonel Ellarius having managed to secure four mostly intact destroyers. There was an irregularity I feel you should be made aware of, however, and I had business here regardless."

"Set something up for tonight." Morgan replied.

"And good work on the water shortage. It would have been awfully embarrassing to kill half our people so soon. Embarrassing being somewhat of an understatement."

"Of course, Lord." The moff bowed his head again and left, Morgan turning to Vette as he did.

"Must you antagonize everyone you meet?"

"Pretty much." Vette shrugged, smiling as her eyes followed the man.

"Not everyone can look at souls to see the truth of people. Some of us, and by that I mean me, have to rely on mood and personality readings. Something made significantly easier when they're angry or annoyed. Cold reading isn't easy, you know?"

"I do not. And while I sympathise, please don't mess with my people. I don't mess with yours, do I?"

"No." She said, clearly reluctant.

"Fine, fine. I'll keep my poking habits to a minimum."

"Thank you. Now, and please ignore the bowing sith squad to our left, do you want to get some lunch? I haven't cooked in a while, but I could de-rust the skill." Vette looked, sniggering as the two dozen sith bowed towards an area they could not see into, and nodded.

"That be nice. To the Aurora!"

"I actually don't live there anymore."

"Then where do you live? We live, I mean."

"An apartment? Lots of security, but it's pretty big. Enough so for a bath, meditation chamber, big kitchen and two bedrooms." She looked at him suspiciously.

"What use do you have for two bedrooms?"

"As a threat, mostly. I don't spend much time there anyway. Might have told the people moving my stuff to just copy everything as closely as they could from the Aurora."

"To your apartment, then!" Vette spied at Morgan as he moved through the apartment, the kitchen a riot of movement. Pans and knives cutting and collecting, vegetables flying and meat tearing itself into chunks. She'd told him to surprise her, it looked like he was going for a stew, but it seemed things had changed. Bit of a silly thought, not like she expected him to just quietly sit in his room while she was gone, but watching it was something else.

She remembered a time when it was just a few objects moving at once, straight lines and trained patterns. Now everything floated in a chaotic mess, missing each other by mere inches, but nothing ever fell. Never crashed or dropped, his body moving through the whirlwind of tools and food without ever touching anything. He was chopping another piece of meat, she suspected it was more for something to do, and suppressed the urge to step into the kitchen with him.

Then shrugged, realised the worst that could happen was getting stabbed. The chaos curved around her without any noticeable pause, Vette moving her hand in front of a flying knife. It dodged, doing a surprisingly good job at seeming disappointed, and she dropped her arm.

"So, uhm." She indicated vaguely, shrugging.

"What?"

"The seal around my soul is increasing my control. Useful for the threads, I can fly pretty well these days, and internal fleshcrafting. Telekinesis is just the most visible expression of it."

"I repeat my previous statement of both confusion and a desire to have said confused rectified." Morgan rolled his eyes, looking at her over his shoulder.

"My perception gained from meditating with Star is translating itself to the physical world."

"Well, you should have just said that from the start." Vette replied, tone dry.

"How's Star doing, anyway?"

"Pretty good. I'm learning to talk with him better, we're up to full sentences now, and he mostly complains about chores. You, uhm, you don't want to know what he considers chores." She decided he was right, shooting an angry look at his holo when it pinged. It floated up next to the cutting board, activating before she could say something snide.

"Yes?"

"Apologies for disturbing you, sir. Colonel Ellarius has requested your recommendation on his course of action." Moff Vylon did seem genuinely displeased, which was something, but she couldn't tell if it was because of the situation or for having to bother Morgan again.

"Unfortunately, he is unable to ask for clarification in person."

"Explain, please." The please was added as an afterthought, she could see the man realise Morgan wasn't particularly happy about being disturbed, and his posture stiffened slightly.

"Of course. A forward investigation team has shown up at the scavenge site before the colonel could finish the operation, declaring itself to be of Republic origin and demanding our people leave at once. Not something we would have contested, as per the guidelines, but there has been an irregularity."

"What kind of irregularity?"

"The model and make of the ships appear unusual for Republic use, and the codes used to prove their allegiance are old. Not terribly so, but considering how many ships have been left for anyone to pick over."

"They could be impersonating them, but you're not sure." Morgan finished.

"What do Ellarius' emotional sensors say?"

"Inconclusive. Their spokesperson seems of military background, but nothing conclusive could be drawn from that. What are your orders, sir?"

"Number of ships?"

"Seven, only one destroyer. It is not a question of whether the colonel could win the fight."

"Push them, see if they leave. Actual Republic ships won't, so make it clear he is not to engage in battle. Worst comes to worst, tell him to cut his losses. Salvage isn't worth my people's lives." The moff straightened again, nodding. Vette noticed a pleased flash of surprise over the man's face.

"Understood, sir. Apologies again for disturbing you."

"Now that I have you, update me on the integration of your people. Soft Voice said something about culture clash and an unfortunate incident involving unlawful arrest." Vette enjoyed the man's unease, though it wasn't clear in his tone.

"Yes. The first concerned the influx of people when my former shipyard was seized by the Empire, which created friction. The issue has since been resolved when Omega Station was cleared for use. The latter was a gross misunderstanding of the new directive, and all offending parties have been suitably punished."

"Describe it to me." Morgan said, tone growing colder. Not much, but enough for the moff to notice. Vette's grin widened.

"In detail." Vylon nodded once, face blank.

"Sir. Seven days ago at one thirty pm, residence five-nine on the seventh block in the second district was surrounded and the occupants arrested. The man responsible, captain Trin, claimed the people within gave shelter to a suspected spy. It has since come to light the captain was unsatisfied that the civilians, both belonging to the gran species, had been granted leadership positions among their local council."

"One of his men would have reported the discrepancy unless intimidated by a high member of authority."

"Indeed so, sir." The moff said, clearly not enjoying the conversation. Vette found it fascinating.

"Major Nirt was covering for the man's action, not deeming it inappropriate. As both the major and the captain belong to my faction, the ultimate responsibility lies with me." Morgan nodded, and Vette knew that was exactly the right thing to say. Shame, she'd been hoping to see him choke someone over the holo.

"So it does. Jaesa will re-audit your entire organisation, from captain upwards, and give her findings directly to you. Do not let this happen again."

"Understood, sir. It won't."

"Good. You're doing solid work, moff Vylon. Dismissed." The holo cut out, Vette dangling her feet from the countertop.

"So, that was fun. I meant that non-sarcastically, by the way. It's great seeing you get all authoritative."

"It means someone didn't do their job." He replied, shaking his head.

"Still, the man knows his business. There's just over two million souls on Gamma Station, and none of my people have experience administering that many. But enough about me. How's things with you?" Vette shrugged.

"Eh, you know. Fighting a shadow war against two stupidly vast criminal empires isn't as fun as I thought. I'm training people almost as quickly as the Cartels can kill them, the Exchange can subvert them or greed can ruin them, but I'm still growing. Mostly thanks to Dorka and my twi'lek army, in truth. Turns out not even my very well established rivals have a Mandolorian clan on their payroll, and freed slaves fight a lot harder than actual slaves. Oh, the isotope-5."

"What about the isotope-5?" Morgan asked after a few seconds of silence. Vette tore her eyes away from the dancing knives, refocussing.

"Vette?"

"Hmmn? Oh yeah, the super-fuel thing. We got about eighty percent of it now, I really like my key smugglers' ships being quicker than everyone else, but people started sniffing around. We closed our operations and made a clean exit, but don't expect no-one to figure it out. Especially not with the way you've been using it."

"It let us super-charge our growth." He shrugged.

"So it's worth it. The scavenging alone is giving us processed materials that would have bankrupted us, nevermind that our time spent travelling is cut way down. Which in turns lets us use the ships more in the same timeframe, like to steal the station we're standing on. They were a slave-using corporation, before you ask. There are a rather distressing amount of them in Wild Space, though seeing as we've moved from the far right to the far bottom it might not be as bad as we thought." Vette grinned.

"Quite the navigator. Learned those terms in navy school?"

"Shut up." Morgan complained.

"You know what I meant."

"I did, I did. But it is my solemn duty to mock you at every opportunity."

"And it's my solemn duty to sleep alone tonight." He waited as she opened and closed her mouth, turning away with a huff. She could almost hear the grin on his face.

"Thought so. Anyway, food's done." She snatched up the plate and sat at the table, Morgan walking to it as his own food followed him. It looked ridiculous, pans and plates and glassware chasing him, and Vette only ignored it with the greatest of restraint. A casual display of power he thought nothing of, which meant it was but a shadow of the things he could do. It had been months since Lachris had ambushed him, since he'd fought a Darth to a standstill, and she doubted he had taken the time to relax.

Inadequacy threatened to rise, which she crushed without mercy, and she opened her mouth to speak after taking a bite of the stew. Then paused, her artfully crafted change of subject dying an ignoble death.

"What?"

"What what?"

"What's in the stew?" She clarified, not liking his innocent expression.

"If you poisoned me I'm going to be mildly upset." His tone was smug, though he seemed just as pleased.

"The only poison I'll feed you is called love. More specifically, I infused the ingredients with the Force. A trick discovered by one of my sith, who used to be a cook. The Empire came, his life got burned to the ground, you know the story. Anyway, he still cooks. Now that he's actually capable of controlling the Force, instead of being a mildly lucky individual acting on instinct, he experimented."

"And what does it do, exactly?"

"Enhances taste, makes the ingredients slightly more nutritious, that sort of thing. The taste really is the main benefit, though. Never would have come up with it, though the man seemed willing enough to teach me." Vette rolled her eyes.

"Probably got scared shitless when you walked into his restaurant."

"A not inaccurate description." He allowed, seeming briefly annoyed.

"Last time I'm going to do spontaneous dining, I'll tell you that. Anyway, we collaborated on finalising a technique. It's being distributed among the military as we speak, so not all was lost."

"Well, it's absolutely scrumptious. Much better use of Force powers than becoming better killing machines." Morgan shrugged.

"I'm inclined to agree. The Force being combined with non-combat related disciplines would be a great way for those unsuited for fighting to still use their gifts. Healing is a good start, but I'm sure more can be achieved." Her own communicator pinged and she took the call, frowning as Amelia's face appeared.

"This better be important. I can't even seem to get through dinner without one of us being disturbed."

"Apologies, my Lady. My Lord." The togruta said, inclining her head.

"The situation warrants it." She shot Morgan a look and he shrugged, making Vette sigh.

"Fine, what is it?"

"Ma'am. Our holdings on Alderaan have been seized by House Organa, who moved with efficiency hinting at comprehensive knowledge about our operations. The Nine Fingers have been effectively neutralized, Bob only able to secure a twentieth of the war-chest before fleeing. Most of our people have been arrested or shot." Vette sucked in a breath through her teeth, contemplating.

"Who gave them their intel?"

"My question exactly, ma'am." Amelia replied.

"It's unlikely they acquired it on their own, so the obvious suspects would be the Exchange or Cartels. Miraka is looking into it, but so far her slicers haven't been able to trace any digital communication."

"Keep digging. Adapt our network to account for the loss, and make sure our more exposed branches are placed on high-alert. Estimated loss?"

"A few hundred million. More, if we take into account the loss of revenue."

"Not great, not terrible." She nodded, forcefully setting the issue aside.

"Use this as a test for the branch leaders, and start upping our production of war droids on Nar Shaddaa. Greger is doing well, very well, so time for him to contribute to the larger whole. We'll speak more tomorrow." Amelia bowed her head and disconnected, Morgan raising an eyebrow.

"A few hundred million isn't terrible?"

"Not really." Vette replied.

"Unlike some, I didn't sequester myself to a small portion of the galaxy. My people make profit from the unknown regions to the Core Worlds, be that in smuggling, protection or mercenary contracts. Gambling and clean pleasure houses make that in a month, nevermind what stealing from my enemies does."

"Clean pleasure houses?" She waved her hand.

"There's always people willing to have sex for credits. Clean just means it's consensual, has standards and the workers are protected. The price goes up because of it, of course, but people are willing to pay for quality."

"And everytime I think it would be rude to request an increase in my allowance, you say something like that." Vette snorted.

"At least you have an easy way to translate financial gains to military might. You have any idea how many hoops I have to jump through to keep even one of my mercenary groups semi-legal?" She felt old stress loosen as they bickered, finishing dinner and fighting over what to watch. Didn't sleep in an empty bed for the first time in months, despite vile threats, which more than outweighed the downsides, and she was stalking along the streets of Delta Station after breakfast.

With her trailing Valkyries, of course, but she had them well-trained these days. They'd stay out of her way. Morgan was giving a class on Others, apparently there were a few sith mentally capable enough to endure that sort of thing, and she sure wasn't going to spend her day alone in an empty apartment. Delta Station, as Morgan had said, was clearly built as a corporate haven. Unlike the Octavian Mining Group, which physically colonized a moon, whomever this place was stolen from clearly preferred mobility.

Alterations were still being made, that was clear enough to see, and there was a heavy sith presence. Everything from nervous new recruits, moving in groups of six or more, to people whom others moved aside for. Not moving as the man walked up was almost instinct, at this point, and she noted with some amusement how people were staring. A rather intimidating looking zabrak, she would admit, and not someone she knew. The man slowed, raising an eyebrow. Did something, going by his posture, and inclined his head.

Moved to the side and continued on, Vette left scratching her head. Probably felt she had Force resistance, but did that mean she was recognized? Oh, right. Morgan's Chosen had some sort of super-duper special squad with Siantide weapons and Force resistance. Probably assumed she was one of them. Oh well. A few streets later she saw what she swore was a group of jedi, though by the time she got closer they were nowhere to be found, and stepped into a complex that looked interesting.

Got promptly stopped by security, who firmly but politely turned her away.

"I'm not going to go all mad-woman and threaten to sic my boyfriend on you, though that would be funny, but at least tell me what this is?" The guards exchanged glances, clearly confused, and she suppressed a smile. She could see why Morgan was fond of doing that. Their leftmost member spoke, the woman clearly deciding it couldn't hurt.

"This is the Advanced Mental Course building, ma'am. The free comings and goings of the public is restricted for your own safety."

"Not much public to turn away." Vette pointed out.

"I mean, everyone here is either wearing robes or in military uniform."

"It will pick up after school is out, ma'am. Now please move along." Deciding to be merciful, and not wanting to be gently scolded by Morgan, she did. Ruminated on her new information, since school meant people lived here. Not here here, clearly, but somewhere on the station. Her communicator rang, finding Amelia back once again. The woman had a hard look on her face, Vette growing cautious.

"It's spreading. Our Nar Shaddaa Branch is under attack, and Ryloth is growing anxious as a surge of self-styled refugees enter the planet."

"I'm listening." Vette replied, mentally kicking her brain into gear.

"Call back Dorka, we'll need his full attention for this." Well, she'd gotten one good day of rest. More than she usually got. John stopped and saluted, the captain nodding to him. Not a hint of recognition, but then Morgan's little empire was growing quickly enough he didn't expect there to be. The security was good, he would admit, but outside of restricted areas it wasn't that good. He moved on once the captain had left line of sight, fiddling with the lock.

It opened after he put his datapad next to the scanner, making him step inside and shut the door. The warehouse spread before him, not a warehouse at all. Omega station was a bit of a mess, which was to be expected considering its age, but this seemed excessive. Or maybe Enosis high-command had just ran with it, keeping the derelict exterior to deflect attention. Nonetheless, there was his prey. Lord Caro himself, surrounded by dozens of pupils as they meditated in a circle.

Very cult-like, which John rather appreciated, and he was sure something suitably interesting was going on. Not being Force sensitive himself, however, it just looked like people concentrating really hard on nothing. He moved closer, a whole room of sith ignoring him like he wasn't even there. Mental discipline really was a great counter to precognition, though actually walking through their ranks seemed foolish. So he envisioned slicing a knife through Morgan's neck, and eyes snapped open.

He was surrounded before he could do more than blink, four lightsabers burning perilously close to his vitals, and another six covering their Lord. A Lord that opened his eyes without any hint of surprise, regarding him with mild curiosity.

"John. Of all the things you've done, every warning you have ignored, this might have been the most foolish. Especially if you had walked close to me, though I would have stopped you." The man stood, John struggling to retain his cool demeanour as something Other moved just beyond his perception. A wave from the man and the sith returned to their positions, John swallowing as the sith Lord approached him.

"Well." John said, shrugging.

"I'm sure you'd have let nothing bad happen to me."

"I would have tried, but could very well have failed. Star has been somewhat protective after my battle with Lachris, and he might have decided your soul looks much better in the fourth dimension." Cipher four smiled.

"I am actually aware that Others can't interact with the physical world, and that non-Force sensitives like myself are more-or-less immune to them as a result." Breach into thine Self; become Form without flaw. Reality tore as John witnessed something he never wished to, a curious tentacle wrapping around Lord Caro's shoulder. Morgan petted it and the thing retreated, waving absently to John's stuttering mind.

Time seemed to mean nothing as it did, dragging seconds into eternity, and his mind buckled until Morgan spoke.

"Other speech is rather difficult, but some phrases have become easier with practice. The words help to shape their physical form, if you were curious." Lord Caro said, an amused smile on his face.

"So please, stop pushing. I appreciate all the work you do and have done for me, so it would be poor manners to repay that with the end of your existence." His ability to speak returned, John nodding woodenly.

"Right, yes. Of course. No poking at Darth level Force bullshit, got it." Lord Caro frowned briefly before shrugging, indicating a small office to the side. John walked there and worked to compartmentalize the experience, finding the memory both slippery yet impossible to ignore. The door closed and Morgan indicated the seat, taking one himself.

"So, what can I do for you? I am assuming you're looking for me, and the fact that we're holding this class on Omega instead of Delta station didn't seem to have bothered you overly much."

"Security update." John replied automatically.

"It got reviewed shortly after you planned to come here. Wasn't a hard leap to make."

"I'll have to make a note of it." Cipher four relaxed marginally, the conversation flowing to more familiar ground.

"That would be a good idea. I would simply hate for an assassin to be eaten by your pet monstrosity. But yes, I am here for a reason."

"If it's another signature, I doubt it is going to do much. The Empire hasn't gotten around to formally declaring me a traitor, which says more about their own situation than they probably intended, but I am very much unwelcome."

"Not a signature." John assured.

"And yes, it does. My own people predict a public split in the Dark Council within the year, assuming no one does something to hasten the issue. Not pointing fingers, of course. As for the reason I am here; sith. I'd like to borrow a few.

""You are owed, so I am inclined to agree. I am, however, going to need details." John nodded amiably, finding his rhythm again.

"Sounds fair. So, you remember how I helped you by organising and executing the largest Imperial decapitation in decades? Well, it left me with a cabal of my own. Which is good, because Imperial Intelligence finally got around to being semi-capable. My overall influence and access has gone down, but I'm more versatile in how I can employ it."

"Being your own boss has that advantage."

"Right?" Cipher four said, pleased.

"I'm still technically employed by them, too. They dislike admitting how deeply I embarrassed them. So, my cabal. Nice collection of assets, spies, mercenaries and pirates. It's got reach, intel, funding and more. However, after my little pièce de résistance, some have begun grumbling. Words like 'severely reckless' and 'having outlived his usefulness' have been thrown around, which has been very hurtful."

"I very much doubt you are incapable of dealing with it." Grinning, and placing down his datapad, John leaned forward.

"Very true. But some have proven stubborn, and I need to put them down hard. Normally I'd request a few squads of special forces, maybe a sith or two from Korriban, and that would be that. But doing so would have my former colleagues all interested, so here I am."

"I am once again not saying no, but if it's soldiers you need, mercenaries would do."

"True." John admitted.

"And it would work. But it also wouldn't give quite the right impression. Nothing screams excessive force like a few squads of sith, and you're my only source of that. Fear not, however, for I never take without giving. I found out a delicious little secret. One you're going to be very interested in. See, I know where Baras made his lair." The sith Lord leaned forward, intrigue evident.

"That is a good secret. Not one I can take advantage of right here and now, not without provoking a distracted Empire, but soon. How many sith would you need?"

"Twenty would be wonderful." Cipher four replied.

"There won't be any jedi, nor Force users in general, so they'll mostly be there to make a point."

"And a point will be made. My apprentices will lead them, along with a company of Chosen. The three of them have been learning well, to the point that only experience can truly push them forwards, so it will be a good first step. They'll be under your command, but understand that they will report to me afterward." So don't do anything stupid, John translated.

"I look forward to seeing them in action. When can they leave?"

"Tonight. I'll let the proper people know, there are official channels now, but it shouldn't be a problem. Hand over what you have to Quinn so we can start planning, and I'm assuming Baras's base is remote?"

"Not on Dromund Kaas, no." John said, amused.

"Some out-of-the-way system, it used to belong to his Master and his Master before him. I'll give your people what I have, though I don't doubt Baras will have made alterations."

"They'll come in useful when I order it bombed from orbit." Well, that was a concerning thing to be told. Cipher four was no stranger to vast power and uncaring apathy, but sith Lords really took it to another level. He was used to soft power, John supposed. Favours owed and deals made. The occasional assassination and blackmail.

"Well, I've taken enough of your time." John said, standing. Lord Caro stood with him, nodding.

"I'll give my report on your security and its flaws when I hand over the stuff I have on Baras. Pleasure to be working with you again, Morgan."

"And you."