Chương 80: Chap 80: Epilogue

"Well, where is he?" John asked, narrowing his eyes at the spook.

"Tell me, you ingrate."

"The last we heard he went inside a tomb, sir. No one has heard from him since. Enosis high command is assuming complete control, Darth Zethix in overall command. Darth Beniko has been seen breaking what few pockets of resistance remain." John sighed.

"I see. Are they ready, at least?"

"They are, sir." John moved past the man, moving into the meeting room filled with what remained of Imperial Intelligence. Those that had fled Dromund Kaas before the battle ever started, and who Morgan had ordered hunted down. The room was full. It was also small, so that was easy to accomplish, but still. Nine of the most powerful men and women of Imperial Intelligence, all in one room. All together, which was a breach of protocol John would have never allowed. Four Keepers, one Minister and four more Watchers.

Together they controlled thousands of spies, assassins and enough information to become a serious problem. They wouldn't. Not once John was done with them. Because if he was right, and he usually was, Morgan had done something. Something stupid that worked out in the end, like going off on his own and confronting the enemy. And if he'd won, which John wasn't going to bet against, then he'll have grown in power. And if that had made him become even more powerful, there wouldn't be anywhere to hide.

No army, no navy, no jedi strong enough to shield them from his grasp. Not that John was planning to betray the man, he liked the kid even if his survival instincts had abandoned him, but it was nice to have the option. Now there wasn't one.

"So, I'm just going to say a few things before we get started." John began, scanning the collection of spooks and administrators. No one spoke.

"Thank you. First, you all work for me now. Some of you will be reassigned, mined for intelligence and exiled. Others will continue in their current position. All of you, from the lower informant to you, Minister, now belong to the Enosis. Say it." The Minister of Imperial Intelligence, an old woman with sharp eyes, slumped lightly.

"We belong to the Enosis."

"Very good. Now, when the new Imperial Intelligence takes all your resources, all your assets, what will you do."

"Cooperate to the fullest extent possible." The Minister replied, tone somewhat dry.

"I know how the game is played, Platus." Platus? Now that's an alias he hasn't used for a while. John shrugged.

"I know you do, Becca. But there's a new Emperor now, and I wouldn't bet that he won't be every inch as powerful as the last one. And this new Emperor of ours dislikes slavery. So what does that mean, Minister?" Becca was silent for a moment, all but speaking through clenched teeth.

"That we will break every chain, for we are loyal servants of his Imperial Majesty."" Very good. You might survive this yet, Minister. Omash, Enock, come in." The door opened again, two blank-faced je'daii stepping inside. Former soldiers, trained in the Force once potential had been found. Loyal, experienced and hard. There were very few of those, but now John had reach again. Reach and influence.

"Omash and Enock will be making sure the transition is, let us say, smooth. Carry on, Minister. You have a great amount of work to do." John stepped outside, finding Astara waiting for him. The togruta nodded, John nodding back. Her eyes flickered to the room.

"How did that go?"

"You already knew how it went, considering you've enhanced your senses to listen. Do we know anymore about Morgan?"

"The Emperor has, as Lord Zethix described it, secured our future and is now taking a well deserved rest. He has also risen in power and apparently killed the old Emperor in single combat. The details are still vague." Of course he had. John shook his head, a mostly fond smile tugging at his lips.

"I see. What else has happened?" Astara looked down at her datapad, humming.

"The Republic is unhappy, which comes as a shock to essentially no one. What Republic forces aided us during the attack on Korriban have retreated, a single ship the exception. General Gonn, Vesta is to leave with him. Vesta has declined and is apparently caring for an unknown woman on Academy grounds. The order came down to assist them with anything they require."

"Work work. Anything else?"

"Yes." Astara replied, a small scowl forming.

"With the civil war over, the Republic moved to block our deals with privately operated shipyards. Military elements were involved. The Hoersch-Kessel Drive has since approached us about moving towards Imperial space, shortly followed by an additional four intergalactic corporations. Negotiations are ongoing." John shrugged.

"It was only a matter of time. Good for us, bad for the Republic, tensions will rise. Nothing to be done about that now, but I hope Morgan wakes up relatively soon to diffuse some of the tension. Or threaten people into compliance, b-" Astara stiffened, John snapping his jaws shut a moment later. A presence swelled behind him, great enough even his non-Force aligned bones felt it, and Astara bowed more deeply than he'd seen her ever do. He turned, putting a laidback smile on his face. It wasn't a very good effort.

"Morgan, old friend. We were just gossiping about you." The thing that used to be a man smiled, John finding it exactly the same as always. Mostly genuine, disarming, utterly normal. Somehow the man still hadn't learned that kind of thing made him more terrifying, not less.

"I know." The Emperor said, eyes flickering to Astara. The woman took that as her cue to leave.

"I am here about something else. First, a number of issues. Would you mind taking notes?" John shook his head, disappointed.

"I'm trained to store and recall information better than most droids, my old friend. I have very little need for notes." The man went silent for a moment, doing whatever Morgan was wont to do, and John withheld a sigh. The more powerful he got, the stranger his friend became.

"The woman that trained you was Poniliy Vestrum. You loved her. She died. I'm sorry for your loss." I beg your fucking pardon? John had buried that. Erased it from the galaxy in a way no one, nothing, could ever recall it. He opened his mouth, being cut off when Morgan spoke again.

"The Force stores more information than I ever assumed. Every life, every death, every moment in between. For billions of years, a sea of knowledge so vast I could spend millennia lost in its depths." The Emperor shook his head, eyes returning to full focus. John opened his mouth, closed it, then spoke.

"You had something I needed to make notes on?"

"Yes." Morgan replied.

"The hyperspace network needs to be repaired. It will fail in six months and cause approximately seven hundred and nine million deaths. Ensure this does not come to pass. Vesta is caring for Vaylin. Tell her that this is a single chance, and that if the Eternal Empires comes to make war, and she joins her brothers, I will kill her."

"Noted." Morgan nodded once.

"Thank you. I am also here to repay a debt. To keep a promise. I have already ensured Vette, Kala and Quinn will not die of old age. I have done the same for a number of their people. Now it is your turn. Prepare." John blinked, having always prided himself on adapting to any situation and finding that skill failing him now. Morgan waited, perfectly patient, and John almost frankly nodded his head. Then he gasped, feeling his body change in ways he did know now were possible, and then it was over.

Not even four seconds. The Emperor hummed.

"You will grow younger until you have reached your physical peak. Speak to my apprentices should you wish for your physical appearance to be changed. The rejuvenating process will take approximately four weeks. Ensure that you eat well." And just like that the man was gone, there one moment and vanished the next. John exhaled, still reeling from apparently being immortal now, and tried to find some way to express what he was feeling. He failed, even four hours later.

Krovos and Ranken looked at him, the meeting room otherwise empty, and he held up a hand before they could speak.

"I don't know what you're planning," John said, standing straight and proper.

"I don't know what your games are, where you will seek advantage or for what reason. My warning? Don't. Just, don't." The pair looked at one another, more confused than properly afraid, and John shook his head. They'll find out. Everyone would find out, sooner or later. Gods were real, and apparently one of them was on their side. Satele was not having a particularly good morning.

"It has been two weeks." Saresh insisted "The longer we wait the longer the Empire, the Enosis, whatever they call themselves now, has to grow stronger. We could win. Wipe out the sith once and for all." Satele sighed.

"The jedi will not go to war with the sith. Something has changed, something drastic, and until such a time as that can be properly categorized, I will not lead them in a vainglorious attempt at 'victory'."

"They are weak." The Chancellor stressed. Satele shrugged, and the woman opposite her tensed.

"Fine. The Republic will deal with the issue you are unprepared to. The last war has proven very clearly that sith are not immune to orbital bombardments, and the Empire does not have a proper fleet. We will end this, Grand Master, and then we shall see about the role jedi possess within the Republic." The Chancellor's mind was made up, it seemed. Satele tensed, the force whispering danger, and she summoned her power. Power to attack, to defend or flee.

Half her attention strode towards the Deep Force, a trick that had taken many decades to master, and all she saw was a soul. A perfectly ordinary soul. Not powerful, not draped in terror or ablaze with the light. Just a vaguely shining orb, only its movements hinting that something was wrong. Then Satele tried to measure it, to probe it, and found there was no depth to the soul. Or a limitless depth, perhaps, but when she tried to measure its power, it returned nothing but static.

The Force whispered again, agreeing with her instincts that the entity was beyond dangerous. The man materialized in the office, Satele offering him a polite nod.

"Good evening, Morgan."

"Good evening, Grand Master Satele. I wish to offer you thanks for the assistance you rendered to me and mine. I am in your debt. Chancellor, good evening." Saresh stared for a moment longer, not quite seeming to know what to do about her self-proclaimed enemy appearing in her highly secure office, then predictably slammed on the panic button. Nothing happened, of course. Satele had seen him deactivate the small electronic device within said button, a small act that she found almost frightfully well controlled.

It spoke to a level of mastery of the Force that should be impossible, though the definition of possible had been stretching for some time now.

"I mean you no harm, Chancellor." The Imperial Emperor said, raising a calming hand.

"I am simply here to negotiate peace terms. For once it would be nice if the galaxy doesn't burn just so we can end up exactly where we are now." The Chancellor scowled, and Satele wondered if she realized how much danger they were in. She herself could get away, possibly, but bringing someone along? Impossible.

"You come here to threaten me." Saresh said, calm returning.

"I do not respond well to threats." Morgan tilted his head, just looking at her for a few moments. When he spoke his tone was even. Perfectly controlled, as Satele suspected everything about him was.

"If you insist upon war, upon death and fire and brimstone, I will kill you. Then I will kill the entire Republic high-command, because my people have been through enough. I am a child taken as a slave, finding power which he turned against the slavers. I am, by most definitions, a monster."

"You would do nothing?" Saresh asked, turning to Satele herself.

"Someone threatens me, threatens the office of the Chancellor of the Republic, and you do nothing?" Satele shrugged.

"He wants peace. It was all he wanted for as far as I could divine his past. He killed an Empire to get it, carved away pieces of his humanity until he had enough power to force the greedy and foolish to act beyond their own self-interest. I will not make the mistake of others, Chancellor. If it is peace he wants, there will be peace."

"And I want peace." The Emperor confirmed, not taking a seat.

"But you are not in the right mindset to talk of peace. Not while you feel threatened. Grand Master, would you accompany me? I wish to make assurances that the new Empire will not be the old Empire. I hold no grudges against the jedi, and neither do my je'daii." A tear opened in reality, one that should have sealed itself shut in moments yet remained exactly where it was, and Satele stepped through it after a moment.

It was not a trick she knew of, using the Force to move between locations, but as she inspected the working she realized it wasn't a trick at all. The new Imperial Emperor was pressing his will against the fabric of the universe, and the universe bowed. It was an overly grandiose thought, perhaps, but she found it hard not to think grandiose things when the Emperor blazed like the sun. Guided them through a portion of the Force so deep Satele would have drowned in moments, and it sparked something in her.

She had been dealing with the mundane side of the Force for a long time now. Years and years, ever since she was appointed as Grand Master. Paperwork had overtaken training, mediation had replaced meditation, and she realized it had dulled her spark. Her curiosity about the Force. The moment ended, the Emperor stopped being difficult to look at, and her feet gently touched down on a planet she'd only been on a few times before. On a planet draped in the Dark, though with an interesting flavor of light.

The man who had brought her here exhaled, and suddenly there wasn't any Dark at all. No Light, either. Just energy, pure and free as it danced over the planet. Satele could all but feel the thousands who'd frozen as their Emperor returned, a flurry of activity returning after a long pause. Another presence moved towards them the moment they arrived, one Satele knew very well. The absence of the Barsen'thor is one she'd kept quiet, but even she hadn't known the woman was here.

"Morgan." The Barsen'thor greeted, smiling happily. Satele blinked. Vesta was many things, but happy? The woman turned to her, bowing her head.

"Grand Master. Did it go according to plan?" The Emperor hummed.

"Fate decrees the war has been postponed by eight weeks."

"I agree," Vesta replied, starting to walk deeper into the building.

"Vaylin is doing well. Thank you for agreeing not to put limits on her power. What Tenebrae did to her created many scars."

"She is your responsibility, and I have not been given a reason to doubt. The Grand Master is here to observe the new sith order." Vesta shrugged.

"Sure. Hexid has collected a group, including Darth Krovos and others, to attempt to convince you to install them as the new Dark Council. I foresee this attempt going poorly, but they must be heard."

"They must be heard." The Emperor agreed.

"How goes the excavation of the Dark Temple?"

"The demolition teams have finalized their proposal on the amount of explosives necessary, and the last few spirits have been banished. One attempted to take control of the detachment of soldiers sent to support Lady Beniko, but that foolishness went nowhere. The structure should be wiped clean within the week." The Emperor nodded, and Satele realized she'd lost the Barsen'thor. The Miraluka was literally working with—for, it was hard to tell—the sith Emperor, and she seemed happy doing it.

Filled with purpose, where with the jedi she often detached herself completely. Vesta walked off after smiling brightly at her, and Satele followed the Emperor as the man started moving again. His stride was unhurried, but for all that it devoured distance until Satele had to rely on the Force to keep up. The man either didn't notice or didn't care, and as she walked she observed the Citadel. There was damage to be seen.

Scorch marks from where blasters had missed their targets, deep grooves in the metal from where explosives had ripped through the hallway. Everything had already been cleared, but the damage itself hadn't been fixed. And more than the damage was the people. Thousands of them, working to not only repair the structure but change it. Decoration and tapestries were being removed, statues taken down, whole rooms repainted. Little of it was finished, but what she did see looked… nice.

Pleasant colors, natural decorations, tasteful art. Rooms built for group meditation, soft cushions arranged in circles. There were sparring chambers, too, but they were neutral. Military, yes, but not designed to be brutal. Machines were inside of them, being tended to by technicians, and in one instance she saw a younger man going over training results with an older woman. A non-Force sensitive woman, who the man listened to patiently.

The jedi did that on occasion, mostly for those with military duties, but to see a sith deign to listen was a surprise. And not a pleasant one. She was not blind to the threat the new Emperor posed. Of course she wasn't. She simply believed peace would be preferable to more war, especially a war they would lose. They entered a room before too long, one filled with bowing Darths and Lords and all the enemies of the jedi, and none so much as glared at her.

Their entire focus was taken up by the man standing before them, doing nothing more than looking at them.

"There will not be a Dark Council." The Emperor finally said, and Satele was almost surprised there was no immediate protest. Almost.

"That does not mean you will have no voice. The time of fiefdoms within the Empire is over, but that does not mean you will not hold power. If you have any objection, speak now." No one said a word, and Satele Shan couldn't quite decide if that was more worrying or less. Alyssa walked quietly over the stone laid by a long-dead Empire, her two fellow apprentices by her side. Their fourth, Sera, wasn't here. A shame, but the girl needed more time.

She'd come far in two months, Alyssa found it unsurprising that the girl showed talent after being singled out by Morgan, but two months of peace was not enough. Jaesa made a noise that Alyssa could only call moral outrage, turning away as their master continued his unhurried stride. Alyssa sighed.

"Still nothing?"

"It's like looking at the sun," Jaesa complained, not bothering to lower her tone. Morgan would hear them regardless, and he seemed far too distracted to pay attention. Inara had made the mistake of asking what he was doing when he got like that, once. Their master had explained, and none of them had ever asked again.

"I connect more deeply to my power, I can read most Darths like flipping through a book, but him? Nothing but static and pain." Inara snorted.

"So nothing new there, then. Does anyone recognize this place?"

"Not really." Alyssa shrugged, Jaesa seeming to not care.

"I mean, it's Belsavis, that's easy enough to feel by that sleeping thing buried at its core, but I'm not sure what's in this old tomb." Her girlfriend grinned.

"I'm the only one who recognizes it? Lana does talk, you know?"

"She usually just beats me around and calls it training." Inara shushed her.

"This is where he met the Mother Machine. A promise was made, apparently, to set her free once Morgan became strong enough. He got… something in return. I don't remember. Either way, I'd say he now qualifies as 'enough'."

"Inara is right." Morgan said, and Alyssa swallowed her reply. Her master didn't turn.

"I promised Ashaa freedom, and freedom is something that I will give her. It is but the first of several loose threads that need to be completed." Alyssa cleared her throat.

"Is that why we are here?"

"You are here to learn. To temper your soul in the deep Force as we travel. I apologize if this is not entertaining enough for your young minds." Inara shot her a look, the one that meant 'isn't he about our age?' and Alyssa shrugged in response. Jaesa was the one to actually answer him.

"Nothing of the sort, master. We simply grow by questioning everything around us."

"A sound strategy. It saddens me that it is a lie. Now please observe and mentally prepare your report. I expect a twenty-page dissertation on Ashaa and your observations on her, both mundane and Force sensitive in nature." Alyssa suppressed a groan, shooting Jaesa a glare. They were the only ones getting assigned homework by their master, she was sure of it. No matter that each of them ranked as strong as any sith Lord. No, Jaesa had to be glib and get them all punished.

None of them spoke as they continued, walking that same unhurried stride. Well, if Alyssa could teleport she wouldn't be in a hurry either, but it was a little jarring. Months of war, years of fighting, and now they stood at the apex of the galaxy. Her Master literally scolded the Chancellor of the Republic by walking into her office, an affair which reportedly hadn't taken more than ten minutes. The tipping point, it seemed, had finally been reached. The point some had seen earlier, and most had not.

That her Master was not just a particularly skilled sith, that scorning his offer of peace was not in their best interest and that he, overall, wanted to help. Everyone who wanted him dead no longer thought they had any hope in achieving that goal, those who wanted to help would find funding and opportunity to do so, the galaxy would breathe a little easier for it.

And all it had taken was her Master repeatedly killing an increasingly strong number of sith—among others, but mostly sith—and proving he was the strongest being around. Calling him a person felt wrong, somehow. Disrespectful. They finally came to the center console, though the hallway hadn't been that long, and it sprang to life after a moment. An enormous projection appeared, looming over them imperiously.

Its form shifted from human to twi'lek to something Alyssa had never seen before, finally settling on rakatan. The projection looked down, her master looked up, and it wasn't hard to imagine the eyebrow he raised. It would be a mild gesture, filled with more curiosity than anger, and it would also somehow make the towering thing seem utterly foolish for thinking size equaled power. It stepped off the projector, its size shrinking until it stood as tall as her master.

The implied insult made Inara bristle, which Alyssa found an adorable gesture, and her master spoke after another long moment.

"Hello, Ashaa."

"Hello, Morgan." Ashaa replied, a curious frown on her face.

"You promised me it would take years. Decades. You act outside all established parameters. Your presence cannot be measured, for it breaks that which is sensitive enough to do so and ignores the crude systems of rough evaluation. What are you?" If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Other, of a sort. Neither, perhaps. I am me." Ashaa smiled as if that was the greatest answer in the world.

"You are you, and I am me. Have you come to fulfil your promise?"

"I have."

"I shall share with you all the secrets of the Infinite Empire." She promised, waving to a nearby console. It sprang to life, data strolling over its display far too rapidly to read.

"Twenty thousand years of experimentation, then twenty thousand more. The largest remaining cache of information from a time where technology and the Force became one." Her master titled his head.

"One plus one equals eleven, the color of green is not to be trusted. You will outlive the stars themselves, my daughter, and time itself will be your only enemy." Well, that meant nothing to her. Ashaa, though, went still. Froze her projection, which Alyssa supposed counted as shock for whatever she was. It only lasted a long second.

"You cannot know those words." The machine said, tone hesitant.

"It is a mathematical impossibility."

"The laws of physics do not hold sway in the deep Force, and I need not obey the constraints of linear time. My body does, but I do not. There is no information you could give me that I cannot find on my own." Ashaa sighed.

"A shame. I hoped to create a god. You shall still keep your word?" Morgan waved a hand, and Ashaa gasped before her projection vanished. The machines around the room whirled to life, Alyssa could vaguely hear droids booting up in the far distance, and her master turned as Ashaa did something.

"I removed the constraints around her soul. The remaining obstacles she will be able to overcome on her own. Do not make me regret this, Ashaa. I have declined to alter your Fate out of respect for your independence. Please do not force me to change that decision." The projection returned, seeming much more energized than before. Ashaa smiled widely.

"Never. Consider me an ally of the highest order, Morgan of Nowhere. Should you ever have need of them, my legions are yours."

"Thank you. Enjoy the sight of the stars, Ashaa. I have personally found the event horizon of a black hole utterly breathtaking." Alyssa barely had any time to react before they were plunged into the deep Force, a reflexive shield snapping around her soul. Jaesa let out a startled yelp, Inara managing to keep silent but clearly struggling. Morgan looked them over with a faintly approving smile.

"You are learning. Good. This will take approximately ninety-four minutes. I expect at least fifteen of those to be endured under your own power." It turned out to be a long, long fifteen minutes. By the end she, Inara and Jaesa were huddled together, souls pressing close to share as much power as possible. More than power, though, her brain felt fried. Pulled in too many directions, then pressed together. Over and over, until delirium started to set in and time started having very little meaning.

When her master's power took over she gasped in relief, all plans about playing it cool abandoned after the ten minute mark. Worse yet, Morgan seemed to just be breathing it in. No shield, no protection. Just inhaling the Force in the purest form she'd ever felt it, then exhaling slowly. Reality returned after exactly ninety-four minutes, which she found was starting to become the norm, and to her surprise she found herself back on Dromund Kaas.

The jungle was pretty distinctive, but even if it wasn't every world had its own signature. Some distinctive feeling to it she was only just starting to notice. Then an enormous terentatek roared at the top of its lungs, and Alyssa suppressed the faint desire to sigh.

"Why are we this deep in the jungle?"

"Pardon?" Morgan asked, turning back to them.

"I didn't tell you? No. I did not. Apologies. We are here to deal with the consequences of instilling a hive-mind onto the beasts of Dromund Kaas, which then retreated back into the jungle while we attacked Korriban. Their ability to adapt has proven greater than anticipated, and they are now forming a collective approximately three million strong. Their intelligence has already increased along linear paths, and they now approach human-like intellect." Right. Yes. Sure, why not?

Alyssa nodded, neither she nor her fellow apprentices having much to say to that. Time for… whatever this turned out to be.

"Ah ha!" Vette cried, assuming her most dramatic pose. Morgan looked at her with a raised eyebrow, eyes mostly focused on her. One of his good days, then. Excellent.

"I've caught you in the act." Sera scrambled off the floor and bowed deeply, though Vette ignored her. Morgan sighed.

"I'm starting to regret taking you with me."

"No you don't. And now that I've caught you, there will be hell to pay. Hell, Morgan, and I don't even know what that means!" He sighed again, more deeply this time.

"And what have I been caught in, exactly?" Sera tried to disappear into the wall, and while Vette would give her points for trying the je'daii wasn't having much luck. Vette ignored the woman, pointing at the lunch trays stacked in the corner.

"We were supposed to eat together."

"Those aren't mine." He pointed out, tone reasonable.

"I don't actually have to eat, you know that." She did know that. Still.

"Then what's that?!" He looked, the fool. He actually looked. There was nothing, of course, just an empty corner, but the act of looking established her own superiority while making him loo- There was a cat. Vette blinked. There hadn't been a cat two seconds ago. It meowed at her, a horrible sound she wished she could unhear. Nothing at all like what an actual cat sounded like.

"Oh, that." Morgan shrugged.

"That's Star in cat form. Star cat. Scat. Say hello, Star." The cat spoke, its deep baritone voice rolling through the sparring room.

"Greetings, mate of Morgan. It pleases me to see you again." Right then. This was going places she'd mentally prepared for, so time for a paradigm change. Vette pouted, her every best one, and turned her full adorabless on Morgan.

"I'm hungry. Come have lunch." Morgan hummed.

"Of course, dear. Sera, please continue your work on secondary soul defenses. Until you get those down you won't be able to keep up with the work Jeasa, Inara and Alyssa are doing."

"Of course, master." The woman replied, bowing deeply.

"Please forgive me." He waved his hand.

"Stop that. You're here to learn, you're learning. There is nothing to forgive. Now, Vette. I heard a rumor that the Cartel remnants lost a critical battle over the moon of Kartoffis. Why am I hearing about this from other people and not the person responsible?" Vette skipped out of the room, turning to see Morgan walking right next to her. Cheating, of course, and crossing the distance so rapidly her eyes literally couldn't keep up, but whatever. He was there, so that was good enough.

"I was waiting until lunch. Not my fault John and Astara are building you the largest and most well organized intelligence network in the galaxy. I have to work to infiltrate them. Me. It's magnificent. Almost as good as mine."

"I've met Elders with less of an ego than you."

"You told me Elders didn't have an ego because they technically don't exist."

"Exactly." That was an insult. Probably. Best to move on, considering she didn't have a good comeback.

"How's your apprentice?"

"Improving. She's talented, but a lack of conflict is limiting her. Once she's learned to properly protect her soul, body and mind, I'm sending her with the others to finish off the Korriban Ascendants." Vette frowned.

"Those are still kicking around?"

"Taking care of the Empire's every problem will do nothing but create a dependency it does not need. Kala is using them to blood the fleet, regardless. Too many green naval officers, or so she says. As usual I defer to her expertise."

"Fun. So, I have news. And don't look for it! I want it to be a surprise." Morgan shrugged.

"I actively monitor your Fate to ensure no harm will come to you."

"That's invasive and controlling." She noted.

"Hot. Anyway, no peeking."

"I shall let you live in this fantasy of being able to keep secrets from me." She was pretty sure that was just him being mean. Mostly sure. A fifty-fifty, at least. Vette decided it didn't matter as long as he was willing to play along, which he certainly seemed willing to do. Removing nearly all travel time between destinations freed up a lot of his time. And hers, for that matter, though she refrained from indulging too often. He would ferry her wherever she wanted, Vette knew.

But there was a big difference between being sassy and being a bother, and she would never be a bother. Well, not intentionally. Unlike some people she couldn't see the future. Well, he said he couldn't either, that Fate was not preordained, but bah. Feh, even. Only those with godlike power said things like that. Heh, Morgan was a god. She was the girlfriend of a god. Very excellent. The best excellent.

It only took another ten minutes before they got to where she had her surprise planned, the empty restaurant stretching out before them. Reserving the entire thing had been expensive, but honestly she could afford it. She could afford just about anything, really. Restaurants, armies, fleets, planets. Anything she damn well wanted. The server took their order, someone she ensured would not give a singular fuck about who Morgan was, and she shifted on her seat after he'd pulled it out for her.

His eyes were still a little distant, like she was only taking up a portion of his attention, but after a moment they sharpened. She did not make a rather unfortunate sound when his full attention fell on her. Everyone, and indeed everything, would corroborate that fact. Fate would too, assuming she could convince Vesta to cooperate. Morgan smiled at her serenely, and she resisted the urge to stab him with a fork.

The fact that the metal would bend around his flesh rather took the fun out of those kinds of threats, really, and she was important now. Had an image to maintain. Vette cleared her throat.

"I want to become the Shadow-Queen of the Empire."

"Of course." He replied, taking a sip of his wine. He looked at it, and she refused to grin in victory as he took another sip. Take that, godling. She was still better at picking out wine.

"I will let John know, and inform Lana and Soft Voice of the change." She groaned.

"No, no. That would be boring. I need something to do, what with my victory over the Cartels. The criminal underworld mostly runs itself now, and I have enough people with enough loyalty that I only need to spend a few hours a week to make sure everything is still running smoothly. You could just make the Shadow-Queen, yeah, but I want to earn it. Worm my way up the chain, find weakness to exploit, get to know this new Empire of yours properly."

"You are in fact aware that almost the entire upper branch of 'my new Empire' knows you exist, and will do quite literally everything in their power to not get in your way? John himself has become rather hesitant around me, so if you proceed with this plan, he's going to ruin your fun by giving you what you want." Vette groaned.

"Dammit. But I want to be a Shadow-Queen."

"You could take over the Republic instead?" She perked up.

"Oooh, I like that. You rule the Empire with an iron fist, I command the Republic through the shadows. Maybe make sure all those lofty ideals they keep preaching about actually get implemented. Maybe funnel more planets to you by altering legislation."

"I'm quite happy with the current size of the Empire."

"You've lost sixty percent of your territory." She pointed out.

"Not to be a bitch, but aside from Dromund Kaas, Korriban, Yavin—which is a wasteland—, Taris and some smaller places like Ziost, all that the Empire conquered in the last war is gone. Even those planets that defected don't add much." Morgan shrugged.

"Vulta is a beautiful place. More to the point, I'm glad the Empire has slimmed down. Rebuilding its ideals will be significantly easier to do without a hundred worlds to manage, and quality is more important than quantity. Dromund Kaas can be an economic powerhouse when taken off permanent war-footing, rebuilding Taris will see it return as one of the great ecumenopolises of the galaxy, and Ziost is surprisingly rich in culture and science. Tall versus wide, and I choose tall."

Great, more arcane references she didn't understand. But fine, not like she was hell-bent on galactic domination. Not the usual kind, anyway. The conversation lulled as the first course was served, and she spoke up again as she sampled her soup.

"So what's the rest of your day like, anyway?"

"I need to oversee the start of Korriban's proper destruction, bind Star to the Imperial Throne on his request, sever a potential but galaxy-ending plot before it can take root, then help Sera with a mental block she will discover in approximately eight hours from now. You?"

"The hutts are plotting against me, shock of all shocks, so I probably need to either approve their genocide or change their entire culture. An eight trillion credit deal is being brokered between the Republic's largest military suppliers and a certain ambitious chancellor, so I need to keep an eye on that too, then not much. No, actually, Dorka finished breaking the Zygerrian Empire. I need to accept his token of their conquest." Morgan raised his glass of wine.

"To a productive day, then."

"To hunting down every last slaver in the galaxy." She replied, clinking her glass against his.

"Oh, damn. I forgot to make my surprise reveal dramatic."

"I already knew."

"You're a liar and a spoilsport. Pass me the garlic butter?" Senya walked through the streets of Dromund Kaas with no small amount of wonder. Oh, this place was no Zakuul, but for a failed experiment of her husband's, it sure looked prosperous. Keeping her sons from starting a war with the thing that killed their father had been stressful, to say the least, and this was proving to be a good vacation. The city was bustling with activity.

Few soldiers, and those she could see were mingling with the people more than projecting strength, and she kept her own presence in the Force carefully suppressed. Her husband had taught her that, once. How to vanish from sight completely, like a breeze during a thunderstorm. Eleven months. Eleven months since her husband vanished and her children grew out of control. Vaylin gone, Arcann and Thexan growing more and more eager for vengeance.

The Knights of Zakuul obey her, for now, but soon enough one of her sons would try to claim the throne. Then it would be war, and Thexan was close to figuring out who'd killed his father. He was a gentle child, but too curious for his own good. Neither he nor his brother understood the danger her husband's killer represented. How easily it could kill what remained of her family. The monster had to die. No matter that without her husband she had been able to reclaim her old position.

No matter that Thexan was growing mature enough to see she'd only been trying to help when trying to take them away from Valkorion. Whatever had killed the man she still loved, it had to die. More streets passed by, filled with traders and artisans and workers, before she finally laid eyes on her target. The Citadel. The place where her target could be found, and a place she'd spent months gathering information about. Every leaked document, every disaffected sith. It had been hard.

It had put her skills to the test, but it had worked. The Empire was changing, quite massively so, and that created cracks. Leaks and tears, one thing growing out of the body of the old. All were weaknesses she could exploit. Even Fate had been deadened around her in preparation. It was an expensive ritual, both in time and sacrifice, but she was invisible. And while the thing that killed her husband could most likely kill her in seconds, the brain was still a weakness. Her husband needed a body to live, after all.

Not even he, the most powerful being she'd ever met, could survive without one. A twinge of doubt was pushed down, doubt that whispered her husband had kept secrets, and after a moment's pause she moved on. No matter. Even if her husband had kept secrets, he had been unique. A one in ten trillion child surviving ten million to one odds. A god, as far as that term applied. It was part of what attracted her in the first place. She shook her head, focusing on the task at hand.

A traitor was willing to take her into the Citadel itself, a traitor she met and thoroughly distrusted, but to her surprise no betrayal came. That particular sith tended to mutter to himself, yes, but after another hour she stepped through a rather minor side entrance without issue. The Citadel was not what she was expecting. It was full, for one, and filled with people of all manners. Aliens, young, old, jedi, sith, non-Force sensitives and Force sensitives alike.

A sea of people, none of which paid her any attention. She left the traitor soon after, pressing a few hundred thousand credits in his hand, and that was that. She was dressed correctly, she acted correctly, her presence was as unnoticed as possible. Up and up she went, rising to what used to be the Dark Council chambers. But there was no more Dark Council, she'd been told. Only so-called Advisors, which were apparently chosen from all walks of life. None of them were there now, and Senya quietly entered the room.

Only a few guards to take care of, and to the side stood the entrance to the Emperor's chambers. Well, an entrance to his wing. It was a rather big place, she'd been told, and after dispatching of the guards there, she went fully inside. Still nothing. No alarms, no sith Lords. Just regular guards, none even close to her equal. She killed none of them, of course. Not only would it be pointless, but death might very well alert some of the more skilled practitioners in the building. The wing was strange.

Half empty, room after room going by with nothing interesting inside. Spare bedrooms, bathrooms, dining rooms and sparring rooms. Lots of rooms, none of which she was looking for. Her senses finally picked up on her target after another few minutes of exploring, the presence so quiet as to be nearly undetectable. She was impressed, she really was. From all reports the Emperor was a brute, skilled but unsuitable. She'd seen some of what was available on the net. Violence and death, uprisings and speeches.

Nothing to imply he valued stealth. Well, she supposed that was rather the point. All the same, she was better. She focused on the signature, finding it asleep in its bed alongside another, and she grimaced. Killing a lover wasn't part of the plan, but so be it. She stalked her way to the room, quietly taking care of a hulking devaronian and what appeared to be a machine man, and opened the door. Two forms were sleeping on the bed, one twi'lek and the other human.

Senya pulled her knife, a knife coated with the most lethal poison found on Zakuul, and walked with unheard steps towards her target. The man continued to sleep, and she hesitated at the last moment. She took a step back, hackles rising. A voice interrupted her retreat.

"Well, I suppose you're not entirely foolish." Senya turned, hand falling to her lightsaber, and a woman greeted her. Human, average height, not a wisp of power flowing out of her frame. The illusion on the bed melted away, and Senya could feel more outside doing the same. She was standing in an empty wing, and the woman in front of her smiled lightly.

"I have been working on my illusions for some time now." The woman said, bowing her head.

"I am Lana. Morgan, the Emperor, asked me to wait for you here. Told me to test you. I will admit to being disappointed. I was sure my fiction of Zethix was subpar, but all the same." Fuck. Fuck fuck triple fuck. Trap. Had to flee, had to regroup and mana- Power flowed out of the woman like an endless wave, stilling any notion of disobedience. That. Not even Vaylin commanded that much strength, and she was the only soul Senya had ever met to rival her father.

"Will you not speak?" Lana asked, tilting her head.

"I won't force you to. Morgan read your Fate four weeks ago, and Imperial Intelligence had been tracking you for two. This was never going to go anywhere. But he seemed interested in you, so here we are. Trust me, that isn't as good as it may sound." Senya swallowed.

"Ho- What- Who are you?"

"Lana Beniko, as I've said." The woman waved her hand.

"I don't value titles. Let's just say Morgan entrusts me with various projects between my own interests, and is always willing to help me forge my soul in the deep Force. That man is more trusting than he should be, to be perfectly honest. Come." The sith walked away, and Senya followed after taking a calming breath. Calm, refocus, plan. Killing him was useless now, but- Why had she assumed he would be here? Why had she been so sure he would be sleeping in his bed?

Senya felt cold fear build in her stomach as more and more details clicked into place, the last few days suddenly feeling more like a dream than reality. She chewed on that for the entire time they walked, attempting to grasp Fate. To look into her own future, her mind flinching away from the thousand million paths she could take. Her guide snorted, glancing at her.

"Fate is strange. Even I struggle to wield it as Morgan can, and of all the beings in this galaxy only Vesta can claim to be his equal. When concerning Fate, I should stress. And while you have no reason to believe me, you are not a slave. Never that. Your Fate has been pruned, certain options removed, but your actions were your own. You could have abandoned this mission at any time." Silence fell, and they finally arrived at a comfortably appointed study filled with books.

A man was sitting there, reading something on actual paper, and Senya felt nothing from him. Nothing from the cat he was petting, either, though its eyes were far too piercing. If her own eyes weren't insisting he was real, he might as well have not existed. The man spoke after a moment, putting his book down.

"Please sit." Senya sat, and without a word the woman left. Turned and ignored a murmured thank you from the man, which the Emperor didn't seem to worry about much. She was content to let the silence be, to make him speak first, and before that plan could pass the fifteen second mark, the door opened again. Vaylin walked inside, and Senya had to stop herself from jumping out of her seat. The girl ignored her entirely, bowing with a scowl towards the man.

"You summoned me, Emperor?"

"I did. Thank you for coming. Vaylin, meet Senya. Your mother. Senya, your daughter. She has been recovering well from what Tenebrae did to her." Senya blinked, not sure what to think. It could be another illusion, though that felt wrong. It could be a lie, she and her daughter had not parted on good terms, or it could be the truth. She wasn't sure which would hurt more. Vaylin's scowl deepened.

"I don't care. You summoned me, I'm here. What do you want?"

"Manners, Vaylin." The Emperor replied lightly. The girl flinched.

"I am a mirror. Treat me with respect, I will treat you with respect. We have had this conversation before. More to the point, your mother came here to kill me. To end a threat to her family, one which is only barely restraining itself from waging war against me. How do you feel about that?" Senya watched the girl shrug, pained by the sheer display of apathy.

"Why waste emotions on the dead? Zakuul is mighty, mightier than anything the Empire or the Republic can claim to be, but if the Eternal Fleet is deployed you will simply kill whoever commands it and take it for yourself." Senya felt the blood drain from her face, tasting the truth in those words. Her daughter was many things, but foolish was not one of them. If she believed that, she had a good reason to believe it.

"So I would." The Emperor agreed, gaze returning to Senya herself.

"But it would be a whole ordeal. I would need to subjugate Zakuul, deal with Republic elements involving themselves, and destroy the Eternal Fleet to ensure it cannot be taken from me or my descendants. It would take time and energy I would rather spend on different tasks. In that light, here is the deal. We will go speak with your sons, I will activate the self-destruct sequence within the Eternal Fleet, and then Zakuul will be left alone."

Vaylin shrugged, clearly apathetic, while Senya found herself shaking her head.

"My sons will never accept that."

"I'm aware. That is why you are here, Senya Tirall. You will help me convince them, or I will deal with them myself. Make no mistake, widow of Tenebrae. I am not a nice person. I built my power through conquest and blood, and I have not softened while sitting on the Imperial Throne. If I have to choose between the lives of your family or war, I will wipe them out to the last." Senya's eyes flickered to Vaylin, who seemed more bored than anything, and the Emperor shrugged.

"Vaylin is alive because someone of whom I am fond of has taken responsibility for her. You could do the same for your sons, Senya. But this issue will be dealt with, one way or the other." And to that, Senya found, there was only one response. She bowed her head, a tear opened in reality, and forty eight hours later she watched the Eternal Fleet burn.

Her sons stood beside her, a being of rage to her left and one of faint relief to her right, and for reasons she could not name she felt this was a miraculous outcome. Zethix hummed to himself as they travelled through the deep Force, his soul straining lightly as he watched Mad Mouse play with Star. The Other was complaining about something Zethix did not understand, something to which Mad Mouse replied with perfect calm, and to his own not inconsiderable senses the Other looked healthy. Strong.

Eating Tenebrae did the Other good. Good enough, perhaps, to turn into an Elder himself. Or maybe not. Zethix was somewhat confused if that was even possible, but then neither was it really his business. He was getting used to the deep Force, yes, but Otherness was something he was going to leave well enough alone. It took a broken mind to accept that particular dimension. Heh.

"Hey Morgan, did you kn-""It takes a broken mind to accept the Other, yes. You make that joke in seventy eight percent of possibilities during our journey."

"That's rude beyond measure." Zethix replied, crossing his arms. Star mimicked him, which was kind of adorable.

"Also, you can't interpret all possible futures to make that percentage accurate, so I call bullshit. You only control some of Fate, not all of it."

"I could find a Fate where I leave you here to die." Zethix snorted.

"And deal with Mirla's complaining as my responsibility falls on her? You've already pissed her off enough by putting her in charge of training the next generation of Je'daii."

"She pretends to be annoyed but is secretly pleased. She enjoys teaching."

"I bet she loved it when you pointed that out." Mad Mouse sighed.

"She did not. Star, stop poking black holes. I'm not pulling you out of one again." The Other whined something Zethix didn't care to translate, focusing on the pressure of his soul. His latest augmentation to his shields was holding steady, which decreased the strain by nearly a third, but it was only incremental progress. No matter what he, Mad Mouse or Lana tried, none of them could figure out how to replicate ascendancy.

There were some other paths, one of which Lana was currently 'close' to cracking, but it seemed his friend would be the only godling around for a while. Oh well. The three of them were functionally immortal and practically unkillable. Not undefeatable, of course, but there wasn't a soul in the galaxy they couldn't run from. Which would be embarrassing, but if Mad Mouse erased them from existence no one would need to know.

The Force twitched as Mad Mouse created their exit, and from one moment to the next Zethix went from staring at a dimension so hostile he needed all his power to survive it to a flush green field. Trees framed the wooden property, a small herd of animals penned next to it. A pair of droids paused their work to stare at them, one continuing with its hedge-trimming while the other went inside the house. Mad Mouse didn't move closer, so Zethix contented himself with watching nature. It was a beautiful place.

Far away from any other people, technology being present but limited. Some droids to aid with housework, a few drones to keep an eye out. But no electric fences, no prefabricated houses. Just stone and wood, even the animal pen being made from simple fences. The door opened, and Zethix saw nothing but an old woman. Ancient, really. Stooped and squinting, as mundane as people could get.

The droid who fetched her hovered nearby, which in his experience was a sign of infrequent memory wipes and good treatment, but other than that she was ordinary.

"I knew someone would come." The woman rasped, tone amused.

"I didn't think it would be sixty seven years after I arrived here. I have been watching, oh mighty Emperor. Not much else for an old woman to do." Mad Mouse titled his head.

"Was it so obvious?"

"Not at first. Not when you were gallivanting around the galaxy doing little of real importance. But when the Enosis began to spread and I could not for the life of me remember them, I had my suspicions. When the Empire fell I knew. There has been no Emperor Caro, and for all that the butterfly effect is one I have come to appreciate, history is good at maintaining its intended course. Come, come. I will make tea." Zethix frowned. Mad Mouse hadn't told him much when asking him to come here.

Just that he wanted an independent judge, and that Zethix was one of the few he could trust. Not like it would take long, regardless, but if… Mad Mouse entered the house, and Zethix followed. The woman was humming to herself, directing her droid with absent commands. She turned to them, waving towards the couch.

"Sit, sit. I have spent years, decades, looking for others like myself. But alas, when I came here I was not blessed with the Force. Knew too little of real value, didn't dare disclose what I did know. My search was hard, and long. I gave up eventually, but I did find evidence of others. Thousands of years ago, sometimes. Scraps of French, a painting of the American flag, other things I likely missed. Sit, sit." Zethix sat, Mad Mouse having already done so. His friend cleared his throat.

"Foreknowledge?"

"The main movies, mostly. My boyfriend played the MMO, but that was so very long ago. I've written down anything I could remember, but I never did dare to use any of it. Too risky. Eventually I gave up, deciding I wasted enough of my life on a mostly pointless quest. I settled down, got married, carved out a slice of paradise for ourselves. Do you know why we arrived so far apart?" Mad Mouse shrugged.

"Gravitational forces bending time. Trajectory altering destinations through the deep Force. For all my power I cannot breach the veil between realities, nor do I have hard evidence such a veil exists. I am happy, here. I have purpose and love and friends. That is enough."

"Good lad." The woman murmured, taking the tea from the droids to set it down in front of them. An odd custom, but Zethix didn't mind oddness.

"You will do this galaxy some good, I think. No more slavery, for one. By God that was hard to get used to. I never really did, in the end. Shut myself away from all the pain and suffering. I never did know what happened to Revan. I'd have forgotten all about him if my young self hadn't underscored his name a dozen times. Indulge an old woman's curiosity?" Zethix listened as they talked, and with dawning horror he realized there were more of them. More Mad Mouses with their impossible knowledge and strange customs.

The pair talked about the past and future like it was prewritten, like it was entertainment, and the old woman wasn't nearly as tight lipped about it as his friend had been. Three hours later they were on their way back to Dromund Kaas, his friend not paying much attention to anything. Just drifting through the deep Force.

Zethix watched with detached curiosity as Naga Sadow—as Teacher—talked with Mad Mouse, readied himself for combat when his friend upset the man—something about only being permitted to visit reality after agreeing to a number of ground rules—then relaxed as the godling left again. Zethix watched as Mad Mouse sat on the Imperial Throne, petting who he now refused to call anything but Scat, and Zethix watched as a rebellious sith Lord was dragged into the chamber.

He kept watching as his friend decided on the man's fate, petting the Other as if it was a regular pet. Always more work to do, always more crises to solve and wars to prevent, but they'd made it. From lowly slaves to the very top of the Empire, climbing over a mountain of corpses to get there in true sith fashion. Soft Voice and Mad Mouse, masters of the universe. Who'd have thought?