How long until we can recapture Dromund Kaas?
That was the question on everyone's mind, including her own. Acina, the Empress of the Empire, looked around the room. Ravage and Vowrawn were there, though the former was wounded. The latter was writing down a report, something she'd never actually seen him do.
A report about Caro's abilities. Not from some 'reliable source', not weeks out of date, an actual proper report. Capabilities, endurance, strengths and weaknesses. She wasn't particularly liking what he wrote down, but she wasn't going to turn a blind eye to the truth.
Darth Caro could sit on the Dark Council tomorrow, pass the challenge and claim a seat of power. Baras' seat, customarily, though that was unimportant.
He could, and that was worrying. Not surprising, perhaps, but worrying. At least he was beaten back for now.
Five years, she estimated. One to recapture Dromund Kaas, four to wipe the Enosis from the galaxy. The Enosis fleet would be rebuilt quicker than their own, but the Empire had the numbers. The legitimacy. Now that they could freely move across the galaxy again a proper fleet could be assembled and the economy salvaged.
But one year was a long time, and morale was low. Six superweapons they had. A project that had taken months, had taken sacrifices and nearly bankrupted both her and her two allies. But they managed it, and a resounding victory was assumed.
Not expected, perhaps, but assumed. She was not going to underestimate the Enosis, not again, so drastic measures had been taken. Lords beaten into submission, the military freed from their oversight, competence chosen over politics.
Instead of a resounding victory, they were crippled. All superweapons gone, deterrents that had kept the Republic at bay time and time again. Their fleet ravaged, dozens and dozens of sith Lords dead, two Darths with them. They were running out of those, and even then those two had been just about passable.
Those people with the strength but not experience. Caro had, as predicted, torn through them without much issue. Vowrawn, though, not so much. And if Caro couldn't kill Vowrawn, he couldn't kill Marr.
If only she knew what happened on Dromund Kaas. She knew much, of course, but nearly all of it was useless. The Enosis had a core of stealthed assassins. The Enosis had enhanced, non Force using personnel. The Enosis won, the Enosis stole the treasury, the Enosis this and the Enosis that.
But what happened with Marr and Nox? Did they get through the protections in the Sanctum? Had any of the last-resort weaponry been stolen? So much they didn't know, and not a soul who was there was saying a word about it.
"We have only barely started the war." She said, the silence having dragged too long. "And we have won the first victory. We have won, no matter that the damage will take decades to recover from. Now is not the time to wallow in what we have lost. What grand dreams the Empire once held. Now is the time to move forward, and it begins here. Right here and now in this room."
People perked up, but not by much. Ravage didn't even stir, busy as he was dealing with his soul. Acina looked at them all, doing the best she could to impart confidence.
She was the Empress, after all. No matter that it was a lie. That she didn't earn the title, and that Ravage and Vowrawn ruled with her equally. A triumvirate, in a way. The last three Dark Council members. It was, in truth, more stable than anything they'd enjoyed in a long time.
Even the most arrogant Lord was keeping their urges in check, the triumvirate's complete power over the military allowed for much needed reforms and confidence in their leadership was at an all time high. Their pyrrhic victory didn't help with that, but having one person in charge worked better than having a dozen.
Because, really, even with a dozen Dark Council members there was always one in charge. It just required more politics, allowed for more infighting and created an altogether less stable whole.
Acina moved the meeting forwards, ordering the fleet to begin comprehensive repairs. It would lower their combat readiness, but the Republic was weeks away from even the most optimistic mobilization. Scouts had been sent to ensure the Enosis wasn't returning, though that was mostly a formality.
The Enosis fleet would be a problem, in time, and a crippling defeat was not ensured. But for now they had exactly that. Time. Time they desperately needed to rebuild. Which, curse Marr's insistence on defending the capital, Korriban was not well suited for. But this was the home of the sith, and leaving it undefended had not been an option.
The thousands of acolytes allowed them to replenish their sith ranks, yes, and she had ordered the Overseers to train them with that in mind, but there was no true shipyard. No farmable land, easy access to water or luxury items. The soldiers stationed here were both loyal and experienced, but only numbered a hundred thousand.
According to their report Caro had taken most of the men stationed on Dromund Kaas. Almost two million in total, it was said. They would have needed them with Korriban's defenses, but it was a problem regardless.
Some would defect, no doubt, when given the chance, but not all. No, many would follow Caro for two simple reasons. He was sith, and he had won on Dromund Kaas.
What did it matter to a soldier that Caro was more je'daii than sith? That the Force user healing their lost arm once called themselves jedi? Acina was not stupid. Was not blind to what Caro had been doing.
A display of power by killing Marr, a display of gratitude by freeing the slaves, a display of unity by taking the military with ranks intact.
Already the slaves were flooding training camps, the third appeased by his willingness to embrace the Empire's military doctrine, and the first impressed by the death of Marr.
That was one question Vowrawn's test had not answered. Caro should not have been able to kill Marr. Nox, perhaps, but not Marr. And yet he had.
The meeting ended after another hour, which was actually on the short end, and all but herself, Ravage and Vowrawn left the room. Acina sealed them in, both through mundane means and with privacy techniques. She let her posture slacken, the sheer exhaustion in her bones demanding it.
Vowrawn and Ravage would not care. The latter was worse off than her, and Vowrawn had been in a good mood ever since the Empire was on the brink of destruction. It forced people to actually accept the flaws in their system, and he had seemingly taken a great amount of pleasure in addressing them.
"Are you done writing yet?" Ravage asked, tone somewhat faint. "I need to return to my kolto tank."
"Soon, Ravage. Soon. And yes, I have finished. A complete, or near complete, account of Caro's ability. It is bad, but not as bad as we feared. With the proper combination of skills, particularly those aimed at the suppression of his healing ability, he can be killed."
Acina looked it over, skimming its contents. Durable, strong, able to regenerate and keeping a calm demeanour. Prioritises the greatest threat, often dealing with it himself if possible, but unafraid to seek help. Strongly concentrated intent, his ability to craft that into attacks seemingly still improving, and skilled at overlapping defenses.
About what they expected, then, but with far more detail. Favored attacks, thresholds to overcome defenses, relative speed and rates of regeneration.
"Excellent." Acina said, filing it away. It would be studied for later, and there would undoubtedly be a later. Caro was not a problem that was going to go away on its own. "Ravage, have you determined if Darth Synar is dead?"
The man blinked, stirred out of his meditation. A technique that, according to the holocron they'd found in Baras' personal vaults, allowed the soul to heal quicker than usual. Ironic, but about time the man helped the Empire.
"She is." Ravage replied. "When she ate my soul, which is not an experience I can recommend, I injected a small piece of myself inside her. It died when she did, though I meant it to track. We owe Caro some thanks, it seems. Had he flung it at Korriban it is doubtful we could have contained her before she grew too powerful."
"Caro will avoid civilian casualties if possible, though not to the point of foolishness. He has likewise displayed an aversion to indiscriminate attacks. Should he ever besiege Korriban, however, the low number of non-combat personnel will likely see him unleash various plagues or other devastating attacks."
Acina grunted. "I have already ordered the Overseers to begin screening for those with fleshcrafting potential. It will take six, maybe eight months before we have a dedicated core of them."
"It will take Caro that long to repair his fleet alone." Vowrawn said. "All agreed that study of his weakness should begin as soon as possible?"
Ravage nodded, Acina did too, and they moved on. "Lana. Her ability to both phase her attacks to ignore defenses, and defend against attack by phasing herself, vastly increases her level of danger. A much more traditional sith than Caro, though also a fleshcrafter of some skill. Synar is a non-issue and both Zethix and Hexid do not have any particular aptitude in the deep Force."
"I have spoken to the Lords that fought the former." Vowrawn said, putting his datapad aside. "Or survived him, I should say. He does not display any particular skill, no, but the strength he fights with makes him dangerous. A berserker through and through, and the fact we rarely see those at Darth level says enough. But, as you say, he is manageable. When outnumbered three to one I see no reason killing him should bring us any great danger."
"Very well. Hexid is in much the same category, though for different reasons. She does not display Zethix's raw fury, nor Caro's ability for growth, but she is more experienced than any in the Enosis. She will know our tricks and strategies, which means new protocols will have to be dis-"
The door slammed open, one of her admirals all but charging inside. Acina stilled the reflex of striking the man down, both because she couldn't afford to and because the man must have had a reason for interrupting them. Only one of three that could override the security, at that. "He's back."
"What?" Vowrawn said, standing. "Speak sense."
"The Enosis. Caro. They're back. They just attacked our fleet."
Acina's mind stilled.
What?
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Fifteen hours earlier.
They'd lost. Not a defeat, not a critical setback, a loss. Beaten back and outplayed, and he was to blame. He rushed the attack, gave Kala a fleet that was barely unified, never did check up with Synar about her issues. He was so certain Tenebrae would rush to Korriban to take control he never even imagined the man would just do nothing.
So very obvious, in hindsight. Morgan got tens of thousands of his people killed, lost damn near a third of his fleet and the remainder was done for. Some wanted to quit outright, which was fair enough, but many more wished to return to Dromund Kaas.
To heal, rebuild, train more je'daii and use the economic engine of the Empire to prepare. But that would let Acina do the same, and it would become a drawn out war.
Still, he probably would have agreed. He pushed too hard and now there was no choice. It would become a war that would last years, killing millions and affecting billions. The Republic would become involved, the jedi would become involved, everything would escalate.
He would have agreed anyway. Would have, if not for that instinct telling him they had to win here. Had to take Korriban lest everything was lost. And his opinion was valued highly, more highly than any one opinion should, but even the Enosis had balked at it.
The only one's really behind him as a faction was the Reborn. Them and Elkhart's people. But they were in the minority, and even Zethix said the logical play would be to return to Dromund Kaas.
No tranquil moment to turn the fight, no Force-magic to turn their rout into victory. Just a defeat and no solution to his problem. Yes, he was brooding.
Had been for a little while now. Ever since he was done ensuring the fleet wouldn't disintegrate the moment he took his eyes off it, which had taken almost four hours. He'd managed to get everyone to agree to another ten, for repairs and more, but then a decision had to be made.
And so far everyone wanted to go home. He didn't blame them. He also hadn't come up with a reason to fight that wasn't 'because I have a bad feeling'.
At least their soldiers were all but untouched. The unarmed civilian ships used to transport the two million he brought hadn't even seen battle. The fact they only had food for another week was another issue, though that at least Vette's smugglers could deal with.
Gods, Vette. It felt like a lifetime since he'd last seen her. He'd spoken to her a few hours ago, sure, but they were both so busy. Soon it would be over, soon they'd have more time, always the same thing. It wasn't quite breaking them apart, that sounded teenage drama even to him, but it wasn't helping.
At least instant communication across the galaxy meant they stayed in touch.
Morgan's head shot up, finding a pair of frozen soldiers staring at him. So lost in his own head he hadn't even felt them coming. Yeah, that sounded about right.
A sergeant and a private, and with a start he found he recognized the latter. Sera, the one he'd seen when attacking the fleet at Dromund Kaas. Then again when dealing with the ritual, and then those two had been together as well.
"I- We- Ple-"
The sergeant spoke over the stuttering private, tone professionally polite. "Apologies, my Lord. Please excuse us."
They made to move away, but Morgan caught the private's eyes. The sheer terror in them, but also the curiosity. The untapped potential, and there must have been a reason his tranquil-self singled her out.
"Wait." Morgan said, standing from his bench. He'd found a rarely used mess-hall, but ships were limited in space by design. Every inch was frequented, even the most unused parts. The pair had frozen, the sergeant all but pushing the private behind herself. "Relax, both of you. I'm not going to lash out. And now even I'm getting tired of saying that."
"We stand ready to obey, my Lord."
Morgan waved his hand. A distraction was exactly what he needed, really. "None of that. Private Sera, isn't it? You are aware that you are Force sensitive, yes?"
"I- I'm not sur-" Her tone wavered, but she rallied after a moment. Mostly because the sergeant had put a hand on her shoulder, he thought. "Yes, my Lord."
"Have you entered into any classes with the Enosis? Not all are combat oriented, if that is your fear, and healers are always in demand."
"I have not, Lord." She said, and this time her tone was firmer. "I was promised it was not mandatory."
Morgan tilted his head. "And it isn't. Buy why n- Ah, your siblings. Yes. One died and the other was corrupted by the Dark. Forgive me."
Sera blanched and even the sergeant seemed uncertain. The private took a small step back, though her officer wouldn't move.
"How did you know that?"
"I remember that fear." Morgan said, not answering. He didn't really have an answer that wouldn't be twice as terrifying as the unknown, in truth. "Shackled to a shuttle, no idea where I was or how I got there. The fear, the pain, the constant looming of death. I do not blame you for being afraid of your gift, not when you live in the Empire. But I started a war to end the sith, private. You have my word the Enosis is not the same."
"I'm not sure. N-Not that I don't believe you!"
He gave her his best patient smile, which did seem to put her at ease somewhat. "The choice, and as you might discover that is a theme around here, is up to you. But, if you would be willing, I could show you something. Consider it a presentation on the Force through memory exchange."
The sergeant didn't appear to like that at all, but Sera's curiosity came roaring back. So much so it almost over took her fear. Almost.
"Alright." She said, surprising him. So much for learning to predict behaviour based on feelings. "I mean, yes. My Lord."
Morgan linked his mind with her own, offering a handhold for her to grasp. It would be easy to connect to her directly, but he was curious. And vindicated, her instincts guiding her to take hold of the connection.
Good instincts couldn't be taught, not really.
But then training was important, so he stopped her before she took on too much at once. Her mind was fragile, not because her will was weak but because no shields protected it, and her soul even more so. Not that Morgan cared to damage either.
No, he shared a brief experience. Pulled her soul down to the shallow Force, the threshold of Lords. Showed her what it felt like to embrace peace with a Nexus, be that on Tython or Tatooine.
He didn't show her war or horror or all the things the Force could do to maim. She already knew that, he saw. Knew it like few people truly did. A child of the Empire, raised on its ideals even if she didn't care for most.
Duty, honor, pride. Solid concepts for her to build a life upon. Xenophobia, elitism, arrogance. Things she was taught but never truly valued. Morgan let her bask in something pure, in something wonderful, as he traced her potential.
A strong will held back by uncertainty and fear. Hard working, willing to die for something she believed in, lost and without true purpose. Cared about stability, about herself and her friends. Yes, she would do quite nicely. Jaesa, Alyssa and Inara would test her, no doubt, but that was alright.
He had a feeling she wasn't going to be dissuaded once she'd made up her mind.
Morgan let go of her soul, gently easing it back into her body as she startled awake. Tears were running down her face, which seemed to concern the sergeant, and Morgan gave her a moment. Not five seconds had passed in reality, but he let her explore his memory for almost ten minutes.
Curious, too. A necessary trait for those wishing to rise high.
"My apprentice Jaesa is better at sharing her perspective than I am." Morgan said, Sera looking at him with a somewhat dazed expression. It was true, too. "Would you like for her to show you some things? The Force can be wonderful, though I'll admit that's not the image I've been displaying."
The sergeant's eyes narrowed, though Sera looked intrigued. "I think I'd like that. There should be plenty of time on the way to Dromund Kaas."
Morgan kept his expression exactly the same, but the sergeant stiffened slightly anyway. Great.
"Of course. I'll tell her to expect you, though I myself will be busy for a little while. Don't let them scare you."
Sera smiled as if he'd made a joke, which he hadn't, but that seemed to be the end of the conversation. The sergeant all but dragged her fellow soldier away, whispering furiously, and Morgan turned back to his seat.
Then he paused, because there was no real point hiding from it. People expected to go home, they expected it to be over, and he felt that was wrong. That it was dangerous to leave now. Not only for the protracted war to follow, but because Tenebrae hadn't been seen anywhere.
It was wrong, and Morgan felt his own resolve settle. He straightened, turning back towards the door. There was no running from it, even if he had no idea how to convince people. If they could even be convinced at all.
Thankfully, most of the meetings were still ongoing. Almost endlessly, in fact. He'd excused himself a while ago, but his datapad helpfully updated him about who was at each. And, even more conveniently, someone had given him absolute power over the Empire.
So he scheduled a meeting with his entire high-command, nearly two dozen people in all, and watched the entire overview of meetings shift. An abuse of power, Soft Voice would no doubt claim. Tough. This job was shit, and Morgan was going to take his petty pleasures where he could.
It only took half an hour to get everyone in the room, and this time there were no aides. No second-in-commands standing behind their superior officers. The expected military presence was there, Grand Admiral Kala and Field Marshal Quinn and general Elarius and captain Enzo, as well as the Darths.
A representative from their logistics department, which was in essence a liaison for the army of smugglers keeping them supplied, and John and Astara rounded out that side.
Then Mirla, generals Octavian and Rykeland, some Imperial navy captain he didn't really know but was apparently a tactical genius. More still after that.
A room full of powerful people, all summoned because he wanted to convince them to go to war. To continue it. If that didn't bring his own political power into perspective, nothing would.
"Korriban is weakened." Morgan began, the room silent. "The Empire is on its very last leg. If we leave now, if we allow this to become a large-scale war, millions will die. Ours, theirs, civilians and soldiers and Force users alike. Attack is the best option."
Soft Voice sighed. "And I trust your judgement, my friend, but we are in no state to fight. Critical repairs alone will take ten hours at the least, and that's assuming the smugglers come through. I don't want a protracted war any more than you do, believe me, but there is no choi-"
"No." Morgan interrupted, that shadow of a feeling returning full-force. "No. You don't understand. None of you do. I don't blame you, for you have not seen what I have. Let me show you."
He seized the room. Those without the Force could do nothing, and in any other situation he would have given them a choice. Now he didn't. Their minds linked to his own, confused and surprised but mostly unafraid.
Those with the Force, like Mirla and Astara, could resist. But they didn't, because his own power dwarfed theirs by a magnitude that was almost ridiculous. With raw power alone he could have overwhelmed them, and his strength did not come from raw power.
Hexid, Soft Voice, Lana and Krovos could have resisted. Denied him, especially with how split his attention was. So he didn't try. Gave them a thread to latch on to, an invitation, before turning away. They took it.
"Let me show you what I believe will happen."
It was a memory. Not unlike what he'd done with Sera, though vastly different in intent. Morgan wasn't sure when he'd discovered it, really. When his brain had pieced together what had happened on Yavin-4, pulled from the Force like a hundred puzzle pieces.
Because that was the problem, wasn't it? They hadn't seen. Hadn't witnessed what kind of man Tenebrae was. All those here, even Lana and Soft Voice, had heard nothing but stories. Listened to Morgan ramble about Zakuul and godling children, but never truly understood what kind of danger the infinite fleet was.
Was he ready to face Tenebrae? No. Not unless something miraculous happened, and recent events showed him his tranquil state wasn't playing nice. But neither was anyone ready for the Eternal Empire, which would only move on that man's word.
A man that was now free and in places unknown.
The future was vague, really, and Morgan ruminated on that as everyone else saw Revan die. Saw an entire world be drained of life, though there was less fire and brimstone than he expected. The place, overall, would recover. Just not for a long while.
They watched the man laugh and smile, barely mortal, and Morgan turned his mind towards the future.
Realistically speaking, there was no way to win with Tenebrae still alive. The man had a base of power untouched by war, utterly loyal and almost completely hidden. Could invade at his leisure, held enormous personal power and had very little qualms about petty things such as massive civilian casualties.
But he would be on Korriban. Morgan was sure of that, and he had no idea why. It wasn't even the Force that told him, not really. Not logic or reasoning. Or maybe it was all of that combined. Morgan had no idea, and yet it felt right.
And even if it didn't, even if the man didn't show, a united Empire would stand a chance. Not a good one, but a chance. With isotope-5 ships, of which they still had a large stockpile, and with closer ties to the Republic.
If only his tranquil state would cooperate. He'd meditated, pushed himself, briefly considered pushing far enough his life might be in danger before deciding that was foolish, then meditated on Tython. Nothing.
Oh, the usual benefits came. A clear mind, introspection, being able to freely examine one's own emotions. But no tranquility. Not even a hint of it. With it he'd be a lot more confident about facing Tenebrae.
No use crying over spilled milk.
Morgan let go, finding everyone in the room a little worse for wear. The Force users because they understood, to various degrees, what they saw. The others because that was a weird thing to have happened, especially without warning. But a point had to be made, and as he looked around he saw it had. Seeing a world die tended to do that.
"That is what's coming. Either he will be on Korriban or he will not, but the last Imperial remnant needs to fall. Once it has fallen those undecided, like Ziost, will flock to join us. We can rebuild our strength, but we cannot do that properly if the Empire is split in half."
Unsaid was the fact that Tenebrae, who some here would recognize as the Emperor, was in fact still alive. The fleet was made up out of a great number of Imperial loyalists, loyalists that might feel the return of their Emperor was the perfect time to abandon the Enosis.
That was one of the biggest problems with accepting defectors, really. The risks could be mitigated, but it remained true that they had, in fact, betrayed their old oaths of loyalty.
"I have been working on revising our overall strategy." Kala started. None of the other Naval officers seemed surprised. "Not officially, and in truth a shift in doctrine will take months, but I know this changed Empire now. Know how they fight and do war."
John hummed. "And their Darths are probably on the planet, not on the fleet. The power structure of the Empire, even after a much needed modernization, still relies heavily on their presence. Ravage was injured by Synar, yes? It is possible we could hold the deciding factor during battle."
"They will be able to fight from the surface as easily as on the ships." Lana replied. "Even if the distance will weaken them somewhat."
And wasn't that a statement that was technically true yet not true at all? Morgan didn't argue, since their opinions on it were somewhat divided, but the base principle was that people simply didn't fight as hard when their lives weren't on the line.
That edge of being in real, physical danger. Of fighting for your life every second of the battle. And yes, their souls were still in danger, but it was different.
The reason why it was different wasn't clear, and also the exact reason none of them could agree on anything.
Despite Kala's words, the room still didn't seem convinced. But, honestly, he wasn't asking. Not anymore. This was still the Empire, after all, and the sith ruled. Kala and Quinn exchanged a look, but the others? Especially those with long careers in the military? Morgan said how it was going to be, and they bowed themselves to the task.
Not something he enjoyed doing, and the fact that he might be wrong wasn't lost on him, but still. This was the right call. He believed it, and doubt did not benefit those in charge. Better to act and be wrong than to second-guess yourself into paralysis.
One of the lessons his tutor taught him. Or tutors. An endless stream of them teaching him everything from decorum to the rules for rulers. It hadn't seemed that important what with the war, but he knew better than most how mundane skills matter.
He'd give a speech, no doubt. Soon. Abuse the unearned loyalty he'd somehow found himself with, then use fear for those who weren't loyal to begin with. But this fleet was not going to Dromund Kaas, it was not going to flee after defeat, and that was the end of it.
The meeting broke up, another set for two hours from now, and Morgan turned towards the window. It overlooked one of the hangars, engineers all but crawling over damaged fighter-planes, and Morgan didn't look back as all but Hexid remained.
"I owe you an explanation about Synar."
"You do." Hexid said, still lounging in her chair. "But before that I'd like to congratulate you on a job well done. You displayed power, showed no hesitation, fully believed what you were saying. You still have some growing pains, but you'll do as Emperor."
"I am heartened by your confidence."
"It's what I do best." She replied with a lazy grin. "Now what happened with Synar?"
"In short? She pushed too far, too quickly, and paid the price. Made me pay the price. But to say I had to put her down would be a lie."
Hexid raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"
"There was a moment I could have saved her. Where I could have tried to save her. A maybe, but better than the execution I performed. Yet there was so little time, her potential for damage so vast, that I chose the easy way out."
"You let her die where you could have saved her."
Morgan turned to her fully, arms spread slightly. "Yes. That is exactly what I did. Not because she was disloyal, or because I foresaw some benefit in her death. I let her die, I killed her, because it was the safest option. To ensure she could never threaten me or mine again, be that accidentally or otherwise."
"She fought for you, followed you, and you let her die."
"Yes. And you planned a game that saw me end up on a sacrificial table, and Synar was obsessed with devouring souls. None of us are perfect."
Hexid rose, tone not as flat as he thought it would be. Still. "No, I suppose we are not. But now I know where you stand, Morgan of Nowhere."
Morgan let power suffuse the room, clawing and cold and so very absolute. Hexid pulled her own presence tight, but it didn't serve her well as a shield. Not with his own pressing down and around her.
"And I have always known where you stand, Hexid. I have seen your feasts and hunts, your games and the broken puppets it leaves behind. I have seen the pleasure you take in killing, the web you weave to ensnare and cocoon. I have tolerated it because you fight for me, and I tolerated Synar because she did the same. But I will not choose your lives over billions of others, nor repay half-hearted dedication with unbreakable loyalty."
She flexed her own power, pushing him back briefly, and Morgan infused the full might of his intent. Kept pushing far past the point where it would be useful in combat, the air growing still. The future paused, uncertain, and the Force groaned as Morgan found depths he didn't realise he had. Star wrapped around his soul, the old friend he didn't realise he missed, and Hexid gasped an involuntary breath.
Make your choice, Darth Hexid. The most important choice of your life.
The words echoed around her, as if the Force itself had spoken, and Morgan waited for her answer. Waited for her to remember what she saw on Dromund Kaas, time and distance letting her forget.
He was not her equal, and she was not a loyalist. That meant many things, but mostly it meant that he found no excuse to hold back. To reassure instead of command.
She was here because she thought it was to her advantage. And that was fine, but only as long as she contributed more than she harmed. Synar had crossed that line, Hexid had one last chance to pull back.
Was it unfair? Perhaps. But fair had little to do with it, Morgan found. Hexid had to fall in line before the inch he gave became the mile she took. Had to realise who was in charge, for sith don't stop schemes until it became overwhelmingly obvious they would fail.
Hexid pulled back her power, bowing her head, and Morgan let go of his own. He turned, moving towards the door. "We have an army to wrangle, a planet to invade and an Order to annihilate. I'm sure we can find something to distract you from your grief."
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Inara looked between her two, now technically three, fellow apprentices. Not that little Sera was here. "This is happening, then."
"You doubted he would be able to rally the fleet?" Jaesa asked, raising an eyebrow. "The Reborn would have rioted, for one, and everyone felt him cow Hexid. Morale isn't great, but they'll fight. It is the way of the Empire."
"Forgive my ignorance. I don't spend every waking moment spying on people."
Jaesa rolled her eyes at the sarcasm, which Inara found rude. "And you two guard me while I do so. Considering my Chosen guards have become mutant freaks, you are more redundant than usual."
"I take that as a personal insult." Yish replied, the Chosen captain seeming perfectly at ease. The twi'lek towered over them, almost eight feet tall and twice their width. "I'll file a grievance report against this abuse of authority."
Inara snorted. "The Chosen have become quite mouthy after their metamorphosis, has anyone else noticed that?"
"I agree." One of the other Chosen said, a corporal. "The captain has become drunk on his own power."
"I can, and will, throw all three of you out of this airlock. Now simmer down."
Alyssa's tone was scathing, but Inara saw the shadow of her smile. Always so professional, though she didn't blame the pureblood. She was, after all, in charge of this boarding party. The boarding party that was going to take over a dreadnought, at that. One filled with sith Lords.
Inara exchanged a glance with Jaesa, suppressing a grin. Almost a shame Sera wasn't here with them, really. It would do the girl good to see they were just people.
"Respectfully, ma'am, their grotesque form is an insult to the cold perfection of steel." One of the je'daii piped up, the man not a day over nineteen. One of the mechu-deru, his bonded rakatan war droid behind him. "If they were not the personal enforcers of the Emperor I'd have Brutus prove his superiority right here and now."
There were ninety four Chosen in the transport, so she doubted that, but Inara appreciated his spirit. The man's squad leader slapped him over the head, his own war-droid standing some ways away.
"Apologies, ma'am." The woman said, the rest of her four man team silent. "The newest graduating class had an unfortunate incident with identity melding."
The je'daii shook his head. "It was not an incident, unfortunate or otherwise. I felt him, my Brutus, and from the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me."
"Shut up." His squad leader snapped, rubbing her temple. "And before you start putting in augmentation requests again, they are denied. And by the Emperor, if I find you purposefully trying to lose limbs in battle again I'll take Brutus away."
Inara ignored the horrified look on the young je'daii face, turning back towards Jaesa. Maybe for the best Sera wasn't here after all. "So, ready to kill more sith Lords?"
"We almost died last time." Jaesa pointed out, not seeming particularly bothered. The hesitant, confused girl Inara had once known was well and truly dead, it seemed. "If it wasn't for Lana's appearance in the fight, which I heard Morgan had to order her to return to, we would have been overwhelmed."
She looked pointedly to the ring on her thumb, Inara turning away. One of the recall rings their Master had made, though linked to each other instead of the Darths. She'd gotten separated from the fight, and honestly it felt more like a leash than a tool.
Not that their Master had seemed in an argumentative mood.
"Don't be sad." Alyssa murmured, quietly enough only she could hear. "It looks good on you."
So maybe Inara liked the ring. People were allowed to change their minds.
The transport hummed to life, meaning they were about to exit hyperspace. Not that it had been a long journey. Long enough for that wookiee to give another speech, though. The Reborn had somehow managed to get it transmitted fleet-wide, and according to Jaesa it had had a marked effect on morale.
It sounded like a lot of cult talk to her, but sure. Her Master could be a Messiah, she supposed. He'd hate it as much as being Emperor.
Ah, one of life's little pleasures. Getting to needle someone by calling them by their titles, then watching them be annoyed yet unable to complain. He deserved it, though. The man had been very callous when he refused to allow Fish to taste their souls.
"What are you scheming?" Jaesa asked, eyes narrowed. Hyperspace vanished as the woman spoke, their transport starting to hover. Boarding pods had been installed, giving the best of both worlds. Armor for the start of the journey, speed for the most critical part. "Actually, don't tell me. I don't want to know."
Inara smiled innocently. "Nothing at all, my dear fellow apprentice. Why would you ever assume I could do something as horrid as scheme?"
"You tend to smile when you're covered in blood."
"I do not." Inara protested, pausing. "Maybe. But Alyssa likes it when I do that."
Jaesa rolled her eyes. Damn but Inara missed the time when that girl could be made uncomfortable. Exposure therapy, she supposed. Hard to be embarrassed when your literal job is to feel someone's every intent. The girl never complained, but Inara didn't envy her.
Feeling Alyssa so deeply was a privilege. Feeling everyone like that would be a nightmare.
"Estimated time to launch, fifteen minutes."
Jesus, fifteen minutes. Inara paused, humming. She didn't actually know who that was. Just something Morgan said, so probably someone from whatever native planet he was from. He didn't talk about it, but it was there sometimes.
The wonder at technology, the strange sayings and words. He was hardly the only primitive that got mixed in with the larger galaxy, though they usually didn't become Emperors.
Speaking of Empires. "How did the 'definitely not a rebellion' work out, anyway? I didn't keep up with it."
"Some moff inherited Grathan's estate." Alyssa shrugged. "Probably assumed he could do as the previous owner and declare himself semi-autonomous. Gathered some support, too. Mostly those angry at the anti-slavery laws, which are many even if not all joined him. He probably figured the Enosis didn't have the means to stop him with the fleet off to war."
"And?"
"And the entire estate was reduced to rubble. They hadn't brought in any civilians yet, though a few thousands soldiers had chosen to follow their officers into treason. A team of assassins disabled their shield generator, then a pair of destroyers opened fire. Moff Vylon moved in ten thousand fresh recruits to look for and arrest the survivors. There weren't many."
"Damn." Inara said, grinning. "Almost sad I missed it."
"Don't be. There'll be plenty more until the Empire is reformed."
Wasn't that the truth? Change was never bloodless, though Inara found it cathartic it was the rich and powerful paying the price for once.
The conversation died down after that, though there was some muttering about Gonn's fleet being delayed. Inara hadn't even known the Republic general-jedi combo was coming to join them, but apparently Enosis high-command had played it close to the chest.
Gonn had been willing, ignored Republic warnings to stay out of it by pretending he never got an order to desist, then got waylaid by some solar-storm blocking a hyperlane. Honestly, for how much she travelled in space she really knew so little about it.
But things happened pretty quickly after that. Something that always happened. War was slow until it was far too quick, and then you had to clean blood off your armor. Figuratively speaking, of course. She hadn't done her own laundry since joining the Enosis.
She, Inara and Jaesa took one of the boarding pods, the high-tech kind they'd taken from some enemy she couldn't remember, and she joined her soul with her fellow apprentices. Cloaked that in stealth, Fish more than willing to discuss the principles on the absence of power.
Morgan had said to deepen their bond, that teaching it to them himself would be the lesser experience, and as usual he'd been right.
They vanished from the senses of everyone but the most skilled, and the Darths weren't going to bother them here. Not when outnumbered four to three, though it could be four to two. It depended on how hurt Ravage still was.
It left the three of them free to roam, though this time they were not hunting Lords in the shallow Force. In fact, they wouldn't be entering the shallow Force at all. That was for the other Lords of War.
The shock of launch travelled through her body, not able to do much more than annoy, and the two Chosen with them seemed similarly unbothered. It probably wouldn't have done much before, let alone now that they towered over even the taller species.
Their time in the boarding pod was short, another shock alerting her of their arrival, and cutting-edge lasers made short work of the dreadnought's armor. Not its thicker parts, of course, and their point of entrance would necessitate more travel, but that was fine.
Better than being stuck for half a minute and risk being blown apart.
The hatch opened, forcing weakened armor plating aside, and a hiss of air showed their pod had failed to seal itself properly to the hull. No matter. The two Chosen threw themselves into the hallway, literally smashing aside a small group of surprised soldiers.
Inara watched them. The Chosen, before, had been special forces. The kind of people that lived and breathed battle, possessing all the skills one needed to be lethal in a fight. Fists, knives, blasters and explosives, they were deadly to the last.
Six Imperial soldiers had responded to their breach, likely the rapid-deploy squad securing the hallway, and the Chosen would have needed a moment to kill them. Risk injury to do so, though death was unlikely.
Now seven to eight feet of muscle and armor threw them aside, weapons forgone for brute strength. Quick, bone breaking punches shattering ribs, their weight and sheer size creating chaos and death.
Alyssa stepped out of the pod, nodding to the Chosen as the pair straightened. Six corpses in less than two seconds, only one of the unfortunate soldiers able to get a shot off. It hadn't done much, not against the thick armor the Chosen's extreme strength lets them carry.
More would be assaulting the ship. Nearly a hundred, and she didn't doubt they would win. Sith would be a problem, yes, but the Chosen were not marauders. Were not berserkers, no matter what their size suggested.
They were soldiers, and they trained against lightsabers. Knew how to trap, confuse and kill those using the Force, and now they had the bodies capable of keeping up with Force enhancement.
"This way." Jaesa called, her senses spreading over the ship. One of the quirks of her gift, allowing for detection even when in deep stealth. "Six enemy Lords, all moving to contain us. Two high-end, four low-end."
Two veterans, four freshly promoted. Inara rolled her shoulder, another squad of Chosen rounding the corner to link up with them. Yes, she could work with that.
Their main target was the bridge. But before that, six was too many. Chosen fought well, and any regular sith was doomed when outnumbered, but not Lords. And the Chosen had already taken losses in the last battle, mostly due to ship destruction, so Inara saw no reason to add to that.
They were the Chosen of her Master, yes, but she was fond of them. And they were fond of her in turn, especially with how often the three of them worked with the men.
"Prioritise the weak Lords first." Alyssa called, starting to run. The Chosen thundered after them, each footstep echoing loudly down the hall. "Isolate, eliminate, move on."
Inara grinned at her love. "Good of you to remind me. I'd almost forgotten after a thousand hours of practising formations."
Alyssa glared at her, which was utterly adorable, and Jaesa sniggered as the pureblood turned away. Feeling each other's feelings was a side effect on the bond they shared, especially when they were linked like this, so Inara let the smugness rise.
Soul bonds, good for everything from power unification to embarrassing one's partner.
One hallway passed, then another, and the three of them left a trail of corpses. None of the soldiers here could stand against them, what sith hadn't been pulled out of their path fared little better, and the Chosen took care of the few that survived their passing.
Momentum. That was the key to battle. Always on the move, almost pushing, never letting the enemy recover or strategize. And soon enough the enemy did as Inara knew they would, and the four weaker Lords moved to stop them.
It was a pretty good ambush, all in all. The three of them rounded a corner, the hallway ahead of them offering no cover and with an attack already on the way.
That plan did require the three of them not to feel through their rudimentary stealth, of course. Which they had. A properly woven together shield intercepted the wave of rolling power, the defence more than the sum of its parts, and the Lords attack was met with a wave of mental pressure.
Fish had helped them with that. The Other knew quite a bit about mental combat, though only against other Others, and Inara had adapted it for mortal use. It was an odd combination of song and insistence, coming in waves and hard to predict. As such, people who hadn't encountered the technique before defaulted to their passive defence.
Hoping their mental shields held, in other words. Of course Morgan had just unravelled the whole thing before it could do more than mildly intrigue him, but she'd learned long ago not to hold everyone to his standard.
The Lords flinched back, not terribly wounded but staggering, and the three of them closed the distance. The droid-obsessed kid appeared behind the Lords, having somehow found a way around, and Inara wailed to keep the Lords attention.
A variation on the Force scream. Remove the physical component, pitch the sound high enough to bypass most helmet flashbang filters, then ensure your allies can protect against it. A trick she'd pulled in the past, but that had been against properly armored soldiers.
The Lords wore no helmets. Their attention snapped towards her, pained expressions on their faces, and the rakatan war droid struck. Good for a distraction, if nothing else.
Inara didn't quite hesitate when the war machine smashed a sith Lord against the wall, but her eyes did widen. Ah. The kid was cloaking it against precognition, enough so Lords didn't quite get the same forewarning they were used to, but that would be it.
The wounded Lord pushed the droid, metal groaning under the man's physical strength. The machine pulled back, the sith following, and metal snapped back into place. The kid had an expression of utmost concentration on his face, but he seemed pleased. Vindicated.
Inara grinned, four Chosen appearing behind the kid. Their slugthrowers filled the hallways with lead, her lightsaber came up and very nearly killed the most distracted of the Lords. Alyssa blocked an attack she couldn't have seen coming and yet more Chosen appeared on the other side of the hallways.
She didn't enjoy war, though neither did she hate it. But winning? Winning felt ever so sweet.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Morgan withheld a grunt of annoyance as Vowrawn evaded his attack, Lana moving some distance away as she fought Acina. Unlike before, Ravage wasn't here. Which meant Soft Voice was, and the two of them were slowly cornering the Empress.
She was surprisingly weak for someone who'd convinced two Dark Council members to follow her.
"You saved us quite a bit of time." Vowrawn said, slicing a whip of ice at Morgan. He dodged easily enough, but landing a blow was another matter. "We estimated five years to hunt down the last of your fleet. Now it won't even take five hours."
There was some truth in that, but not enough. The fleet had rallied through loyalty and fear, and Kala had seemed confident. Morgan felt the same when they arrived, the Imperial ships only just managing to get into formation before they'd closed the distance.
The enemy Darths had been somewhat slow to challenge them, actually, but he hadn't stuck around to do nothing. The four of them had dominated the shallow Force until all the sith Lords had fled, letting Enosis Lords of War entrenched themselves. Not something that would last, but a good start.
Hexid was still down there, venting her rage against those unfortunate enough to catch her eye, but she'd settle down. Probably. A problem for after Korriban. Krovos was with her, anyway. That one was more willing to give and earn loyalty.
"I've been arrogant." Morgan admitted, taking a mental step back. Vowrawn cocked his head. "My growth let me take on more of the burden, and I suppose I got used to standing under my own strength. Let my ego grow unchecked, which is not something I should have ever let happen. Thank you, Vowrawn, for showing me I have so very much left to learn."
Star rapidly ascended from the deepest trenches of the Force, a hundred tentacles striking at the Dark Council member. Vowrawn, predictably, knew how to ward against Others. Knew those techniques designed against them, and for all their power the Others were distinct. Unique.
Unique as a species, and they were not supposed to be here. As such Vowrawn had little trouble banishing the horror, though it took some moments of concentration. Moments that Morgan was more than happy to take advantage of.
A strike here, timed just right so Vowrawn noticed it a little later than usual, then a faint there. Star kept coming back, too, which was something the Elders wouldn't be happy with.
But unlike the torture Morgan had suffered under them, all Star would endure was a fairly bad scolding.
Vowrawn turned and left after another dozen exchanges, the last of which forcing him to shield instead of dodge. Morgan let him, Acina being the greater prize, but found the Empress dragged back towards the planet. Almost like she'd been summoned, which took him a moment to figure out.
She'd kept a team on the planet ready to drag her out should things go bad. Smart. Lana managed to shear off a piece of her soul as she did, but that was that.
Morgan nodded to her and Soft Voice both, that victory far easier than the last. But then last time they'd been fighting to kill, not chase away, and it was gratifying to see that both Vowrawn and Acina were still tired.
Endurance had been a large advantage to him and his, so he was glad to see that trend continue.
"Go deal with the Lords." Morgan ordered, sending Star a thrill of thanks. The Other preened. "Without a hard target to hit I'd expect both of you to kill at least a dozen each."
Soft Voice grinned as Lana mock-glared, both vanishing. Morgan opened his eyes to reality, happy to not wake up to a disaster this time. One of the comms units linked him to the Yamada and his Grand Admiral, her miniature body focused on her own task.
"I can influence four ships." Morgan reported, briefly feeling for his apprentices. They were doing fine, though somewhat hard to pick out even with his familiarity. "Another two in half an hour."
Kala didn't turn to him, though she did speak. "If this battle isn't over in half that time, we've lost. As impressive as your ability to rally was, our fleet is at its breaking point. Target ships in sector eight, nine and fourteen. Ignore the Lords, they're not in command of anyone. Not anymore."
"Targeting ships in sector eight, nine and fourteen. Confirmed."
He nodded to the captain of the Rapid Tide, the man seemingly doing an alright job of commanding his destroyer despite his age. Morgan focused his attention down, feeling nothing but Lords stand in his way.
A grim smile flickered over his face.
Kala didn't need his help, not anymore, but he would give it anyway. The Empire had done well, honestly. Very well. Recognized their own flaws, set aside blind arrogance, planned and strategized.
Star met him halfway to the enemy fleet, both of them moving so deep in the Force Lords could do nothing to them, and Morgan got to work.
He wasn't here to be fair. He wasn't here to be kind.
He was here to win.
Afterword
We're getting close to the end now. Two, three more chapters all in all. In fact, all but the epilogue are already on the discord.
The Warcrowned on Royal Road (pinned comment)
Discord (two chapters ahead for the low, low price of your soul) [Check author profile or pinned comment on the chapter.]