Chap 19. Balmorra arc: Cracking the shell

"The Balmorran Arms Factory will not be an easy assault." Soft Voice intoned. "Protected by large shields, automated defences and some of the resistance's most highly trained soldiers it will no-"

"Point of order." The admiral interrupted, Vette rolling her eyes. That marked the third time the man had said that in twenty minutes. "It is believed that most, if not all, resistance forces stationed in the Balmorran Arms Factory are former Republic soldiers."

She looked at the two Enosians stationed at the door, both glaring at the admiral. They'd been getting progressively more irritated as the man kept interrupting their glorious leader. She contemplated needling, but this meeting had gone on for too long already.

Especially since they'd been getting nothing done. Darth, whatever her name was, had given them additional soldiers for the assault. Those soldiers unfortunately answered to an admiral, who had then promptly brought no less than ten of his officers to this small, cramped meeting room.

Those officers had then started second guessing every decision, arguing over trivial agenda points and generally not contributing at all to the actual meeting. Morgan shuffled beside her, showing her his datapad.

'If that man says point of order one more time I'm killing him. I doubt Lachris will miss him overly much, seeing as she sent him here instead of helping her crush the rest of the planet-wide rebellion.'

She snorted, unfortunately pulling the attention of the most critical, vocal imperial she'd ever met. "Silence. This is a military matter, and you should be thanking your betters to be allowed in the room at all."

The rebuke didn't invite the usual indignation it would have, mostly because the man had immediately collapsed to his knees, grasping at his throat. Morgan shook his head, looking directly at the admiral. "A racist imperial, how shocking. Control your men, or they will be controlled for you."

The admiral glared, folding his arms. "I answer to a Darth, sith. You do not get to give me orders."

Soft Voice cleared his throat, spreading his arms in a peaceful gesture. "You do, however, answer to me for the duration of this assault. Your officers will show tolerance and decorum."

Most of the officers had gone pale, noticing how the two sith guards had taken a step forward. Astara whispered something to Kripaa. He shook his head sadly, the reply lost to Vette's ears as he waved off the two men.

"As I was saying." Soft Voice continued smoothly. "This assault will not be an easy one. The first and most critical part of this operation will be the deactivation of the shields. Seeing as they were designed to withstand orbital bombardment, this assault will grind to a halt should they remain active. As such, Mad Mouse and his team will infiltrate and destroy its generators during the first phase of the main assault."

Morgan nodded beside her, Quinn to his right. The lieutenant had been mostly silent so far, only speaking up now that they were getting to the actual planning.

"Apologies, my lords. It would be more effective to place the secondary armoured division in staggered formations. They will likely employ stinger missiles, which would destroy most of the tanks should they not be properly spaced in this sort of terrain."

Vette nodded thoughtfully, wondering if the admiral could get any redder. Soft Voice was taking it seriously, though, Mirla making adjustments to the operations map as the lieutenant spoke.

"Ah, perhaps it would also be better to not employ jump troopers during this engagement, my lords. The aerial advantage would be offset by the height of the facility in question, and previous skirmishes spoke up numerous well trained snipers. These will doubtlessly be employed here, leading to the unit's wholesale destruction."

One of the officers reddened, looking through the stack of reports in front of her. The woman nodded to the admiral soon after, Mirla taking the jump troopers off the map with a flick of her finger.

Quinn broke in several more times, Mirla adjusting the assault plan as he did, and soon enough even the admiral was reluctantly nodding along. It heralded the end of the meeting, to her great relief, Morgan staying behind to talk to his friend.

She, meanwhile, had other plans.

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Morgan blinked as he entered the room. The door clicked shut behind him, locking without his notice.

Vette was dancing, swaying and twisting as she moved through the room. He followed the spin of the lekku as it twirled, briefly mesmerised. The room was well lit, the holo display letting out soft, melodious music. Morgan frowned, contemplated if he was still dreaming, then cleared his throat.

She turned smoothly, her chest swaying as she smiled. Her hands traced her hips, drawing attention to three strings that served as her underwear. "Oh, hi. Don't mind me. You just caught me practising."

"Practising what, exactly? I have something to tell you, by the way."

"My heritage." Vette said secretively, her lekku bouncing again as she twisted. "I usually practise alone, but I trust you enough to observe. A great privilege."

Morgan sighed, having to force his heartbeat under control with fleshcrafting. "And why are you doing that in what could generously be called swimwear?"

"Tradition." She scolded. "Don't be culturally insensitive."

"Would it surprise you to learn I've studied twi'lek culture?" Morgan asked curiously. Vette stuttered, catching herself with a twirl that just so happened to give him a great look at her ass. He thanked his foresight to have come here with his hormones blocked, or that might have very well caused him to say something rash. "A curiosity since we've met. Anyway, twi'lek do have dance as part of their culture. It does not, however, involve being practically naked."

Vette slowed, scowling at him. He held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm not that thick. I'm just trying not to read into things."

She stepped closer, her eyes dipping to look at his crotch. "Do you need to try? At this point I'm pretty sure you're either gay or asexual. I'm stripping in my underwear and you're not even hard." She narrowed her eyes, glaring. "Unless Quinn was right and you're suppressing your hormones."

He kept the flash of guilt and alarm from his face, Vette throwing up her hands anyway. "Why, in the Goddess's name, would you do that?"

He grinned despite himself, Vette looking adorable as she scowled. "Quinn's fired. A general sense of self preservation? Horniness has been known to cause stupidity, and as I said, I'm really trying not to read into things here."

She glared, the flash of hurt in her eyes wiping any trace of humour from him. "Sorry. Look, it's a bad idea. The fact you work for me, however nominal, is bad enough. The power imbalance alone would be hilarious if it didn't make me feel like shit, nevermind that it could break everything."

Vette's glare softened. "Break what?"

"Now who's being thick? You're the only one that still treats me like a person. Who I can laugh with, complain to. Quinn's a soldier, assigned to my command. Soft Voice is my friend, but he has his own thing going on. His own missions. Let's not even talk about the Enosis. I don't want to wake up one day to find out I can't take off the mask of Morgan, the Fleshcrafter Lord."

He slathered the title with sarcasm, Vette rolling her eyes. "And that's a certainty, is it?"

He made to talk again, Vette stepping forward. She pressed a kiss to his lips, Morgan freezing in surprise. "There. Situation simplified."

She looked at him seriously. "Denial didn't work for me. I'm not in my underwear because the power imbalance puts me off. Quite the opposite, really. Do. Do you know anything about what I'm implying?"

Morgan rolled his eyes, seeing the gesture reflected in her iris. His brain decided to ignore the kiss to focus on the conversation, knowing he would probably spiral otherwise. "We did have the internet, yes. You'll have to be really out there for me to not at least know about it."

Vette stepped back, sighing. "I'll just go ahead and say it then, yes? I like you. I'm submissive, I'm hoping you're dominant, I'm really horny and I have the feeling this is all very new territory for you."

Morgan closed his eyes, easing off his hormone blockage. Getting that right had been a pain, and now he was doubting if he had ever needed it in the first place. When he opened his eyes he saw Vette looking uncharacteristically nervous, realising he'd just closed his eyes after she took a leap of faith.

"Fuck, sorry. I just took off my hormone block. You're right on the last count, at least. I don't know what I am, but my search history does tend to suggest being dominant, yes."

Morgan smiled, burning affection surging through him as he shrugged off his last emotion suppressors.

Vette grinned, starting to sway in place. "I'm really trying to take this slow. Well, slow for me, anyway. I'm the kind of girl that takes what she wants, but I can make an exception just this once."

Morgan nodded, lost as the conversation caught up with him. "So, uuhm. Now what?"

"Now I explain, we set boundaries, and then I'm hoping to have a very fun night."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"Not to be a bore, but did you happen to think about a condom last night? Or, you know, a dozen."

Morgan gagged on his drink as a soldier missed her step, glaring at her. "Be louder, I don't think they heard you on the other side of the building."

Vette shrugged. "I'm not ashamed. Are you?"

"Ashamed? No. Feeling the need to talk about it, loudly, where everyone can hear? Also no. To answer that very nonchalant, not at all serious question; I don't need one. I'm infertile until I decide not to be."

She laughed, skipping ahead. "Fleshcrafting sure has a lot of applications in the bedroom. Wonder if that's why they came up with it."

He nodded sagely, but Teacher interrupted before he could come up with something suitably sarcastic. "We need to talk."

Vette drew back, horrified. "Oh no, your wife found out. Quick, everyone for themselves."

She sped off as the cube floated from his customary pouch, turning to him with an accusatory tilt. "Sweet mercy, she broke you. This better not cut into your training time."

Morgan shrugged, altering course to an empty training room. "It seems so. Not to worry, I'll just tie her up when she gets too distracting. Should cool her off while I train."

"Forget I got involved." Teacher shuddered. "I have no wish to hear about your mammalian exploits."

He shrugged. "As you wish. What did you want to talk about?"

The cube floated to the middle of the room, Morgan shutting the door. "Your training."

"My training? It's been going fine. Sparred with Darth Lachris a few days ago, gave me some good ideas for improving my shield."

"Yes." Teacher hissed. "Darth Lachris, not your own master. What, exactly, has he taught you?"

Morgan tilted his head. "Nothing? I'm really not that surprised. I've been killing his apprentices, informants and spies for months. The kind of people with years or even decades of service to the man. The second I've outlived my usefulness I'm next."

The cube floated closer. "And you're fine with that?"

"Yes? I'm not just going to let him kill me, of course, but it's pretty much what I expected. I'm his enforcer and assassin, an apprentice only in name."

Teacher scoffed. "And you think you're going to learn enough to resist him, to stop him, on your own? Before he figures out you're growing too strong?"

"Nope. If only I had an experienced teacher, a scrappy, street smart sidekick and sith allies. Oh, and growing ties to the military. Alas, I am doomed."

The cube stayed silent. Morgan sighed. "Fine, yes. I've recently seen just how powerful a Darth is. Yes, Baras will kill me if I grow too strong. No, I don't have a foolproof plan to get out of it. Yes, I'm working on it."

"Spare me your sarcasm." Teacher said quietly. "Strengthen your ties with the military further. Many an arrogance sith Lord has suffocated in space, refusing to believe mere mortals ships could harm them. Sit, and pay attention."

Morgan sat, folding his legs under him. "They can only kill you if they can find you. Your control makes you well suited for a number of disciplines, fleshcrafting being by far the most versatile. Stealth is another, one that has not fit your skillset until now. Tell no one, and I mean no one, that you're learning this. Not Vette. Not that hulking friend of yours. No one."

"I trust both of them." He rebuked. Teacher laughed. "It is not about trust. A secret shared is no secret at all, and this must remain a secret above all else. I will not teach you how to blend with the environment. No. You will learn to become invisible in the Force itself. Appearing, to even the most skilled practitioners, as just another civilian. Your master finds out, gets even the slightest suspicion, he will kill you."

Morgan nodded. "I get your point, I really do. But trust is what defines us. Why the Enosis can exist."

Teacher sighed. "You and your healthy relationships. It's just until you have mastered the art. Until you learn to hide from even the Dark Council. Vette does not have the Force, but your friend does. Baras is, however, very unlikely to have spent the time linking himself to- What was his name? Soft something."

"Soft Voice. Zethix." Morgan answered. "How long will it take to learn? What's linking?"

"If it was anyone but you I'd say a decade. Creating a link between two Force users is a way of communication. The jedi use it to send feelings, and in some extreme cases, memories, over vast distances. Vast as in half the known galaxy, vast. It takes time, years and years of close proximity and bonding, to achieve. Most often found between a padawan and master. Baras has learned to ape this, in its crudest form. I can feel it on you. How it tethers your soul. He knows where you are. And he will keep knowing until you learn to hide. Now stimulate the Force, and blend. Let the Force settle around you like a blanket, hiding all from view."

Hours passed in sudo-meditation, trying to hide his, apparently glaring, signature from sight. Morgan finally opened his eyes, standing. "I can practise on my own from here. Blending should be easy enough to do anywhere."

"Remember to not actually hide." Teacher stressed. "Even if it's vanishingly unlikely you'll be able to for years to come."

He held up his hand. "I'll remember. Gods, haven't felt this incompetent in months."

The cube floated back to the pouch, getting the last word in as he dimmed. "Almost like you're learning a new discipline."

Morgan snorted as he opened the door, finding a surprised Quinn about to knock. Morgan hid his own surprise with long practise, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

The lieutenant straightened. "Sir. I wish to ask for a favour."

"I'm all ears, lieutenant."

Quinn coughed, more awkward than Morgan had ever seen him. "It's. It's the men, sir. They wish to spar."

"I'm able to snap steel." Morgan said dryly. "Doesn't sound like the best of ideas."

The lieutenant nodded, shuffling. "I told them that. I can't disagree with their reasoning, however. That jedi you faced, we were useless against her. Sparring with another Force user might give us the edge to assist in the future."

"There are very, very few people who can beat a jedi knight, lieutenant, nevermind doing so without the Force. Who came up with this idea?"

Quinn stiffened slightly. "It was a group decision."

"I'm sure it was. Who proposed the group decision."

"It was ensign Jillins, sir."

Morgan sighed. "Of course. Lead on, lieutenant."

He walked somewhat behind the man, taking the time to contemplate the soldier. Quinn was, by definition, the spy.

'Well, maybe not yet. I've no idea if Baras has already ordered him to start spying, or that he will wait until Quinn is part of the crew.' They walked through a door, a startled squad of green troops saluting as they passed. 'The lieutenant is nothing like how I remember. An imperial loyalist, to be sure, but no elitist. He's good to his men, competent and easygoing.'

Morgan smiled slightly, remembering yesterday's meeting. 'I've no trouble believing he was a rising star before Druckenwell. So that's the rub, isn't it?'

He nodded to an Enosis member, one he didn't know by name. The man flushed, bowing. 'New recruit, if I don't know him. Two choices. I treat Quinn as if he's going to spy on and betray me. He will feel ostracised, starting to resent me. Far more likely to betray me than not, at that point. I don't treat him any differently, he spies on and betrays me.'

Morgan looked at the back of the man's head, wondering. 'But that doesn't take into account the changes. Vette isn't the same, nor would I wish her to be. Baras is, well, Baras. Still, this is a living, breathing galaxy.'

They came to the training hall ensign Jillins was pacing, the rest of the squad lined up before him. Morgan followed the lieutenant inside, nodding to himself as he came to the only real choice. 'Judge by action, not suspicion. I suppose we'll see.'

He focused, watching Jillins pace. He had never been the most involved member of the military, but even he had found it strange their second in command was a rookie. He hadn't commented on it, and in fact the squad hierarchy seemed far less rigid than expected, but ever since his attempt at therapy Jillins had changed.

He'd actually missed it, at first. The soft conversations between him and Horas. The intensity of his training, above what even Quinn expected of them. How the rest of the men had fallen in line, one by one, until even Horas played along with a quiet sigh.

Jillins saluted as they came inside, the flash of tangled feeling overlaid by awe churning his stomach. The Enosis weren't half this bad. 'But then.' His mind whispered. 'They can shield their emotions. Who knows what they really feel?'

"Ensign. Quinn tells me this exercise was your idea?"

"Sir! I believe it would help prepare us to face jedi, sir."

Morgan settled his attention over the room, careful to keep it down. Fleshcrafters could inflate their presence far above most. A useful trick, but here he just wanted their full, undivided, attention.

"Next time we meet that jedi, ensign, I expect you to make any and all effort to disengage and retreat."

Mutinous protest flashed through the man, Morgan holding up his hand. "That is not an insult to you or the men, Jillins. Jedi knights are some of the most dangerous entities in this galaxy, however peaceful they may be. I do agree that we cannot always have what we want; to prepare for the worst. As such, the exercise."

He stepped closer to the ensign, looking him in the eye. "Be warned. Glorious displays of loyalty mean nothing to me. Do your job, get out alive. That last bit is most important, so focus on it. Everything, everyone, learns from failure. Everyone but the dead. I prefer a failed objective but a better soldier over a dead soldier with a completed objective. Is that clear, ensign Jillins?"

The man snapped another salute, the row of men behind him mimicking the motion with rigid precision. Morgan let the pressure drop, stepping back as they breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Good. Now, set your blasters to training grade four and set up over at that wall."

Quinn took over as Morgan walked to the other side of the room, leaving his lightsaber unignited.

"The objective of this exercise is to hit me. I will begin with evasion, blocking only when needed. Should you manage to overwhelm me I will start to redirect attacks back to you. Begin when ready."

Quinn barked an order, drawing his sidearm as blasters went up. Morgan leaned out of the way, stepping calmly as blaster fire impacted the wall behind him. Seconds passed until the lieutenant barked at them to spread their fire, eyes narrowed.

Morgan focussed, his areas of movement shrinking as they started to anticipate his motion. His lightsaber snapped to his hand some ten seconds after, redirecting a bolt into the ceiling.

He was forced to deflect more as Quinn focussed their fire, systematically boxing him in. It was another twenty seconds before a bolt slipped past, burning a hole through his shirt and leaving a slight red welt on his shoulder. Morgan smirked, starting to reflect the attacks back to them.

They spread out, covering half the room as Morgan dodged and twisted, occasionally sending a bolt back. They splashed harmlessly against their armour, only standing down when enough damage was dealt to 'kill' them.

Quinn ordered a halt another minute after that, Morgan's torso covered in angry red marks. He spread out his arms, smiling. "An excellent attempt. Restricting movement, covering multiple angles and limiting return fire. You might just be some of the best soldiers I've stood against. I can feel your pride, and you should be proud. These skills are hard won."

He clipped the lightsaber to his belt, pulling a marker from his pocket. "Pride should never become arrogance. I do this not to humiliate or discourage, but to give you understanding."

He moved, holding back most of his strength as Quinn was smashed against the wall. He drew a black line over his throat before he could gasp, dropping the man. Morgan turned, tackling Jillins as he received a similar line over his throat.

Horas backpaddled, aiming his blaster. Morgan glided to the side, grabbing the weapon from his hands and throwing it to the soldier taking aim some ways away. The men went down groaning as Horas lost his life.

None managed to score any hits as he killed them, careful to do little more than bruise. The room was covered in groaning soldiers after some seconds, Morgan putting the cap back on the pen and pocketing it.

"These jedi are trained for war. They will not hesitate. They will not flinch. They are my equal, if not more so." He looked Quinn in the eye, the man climbing back to his feet. "If you meet one, retreat."

Morgan stepped back, looking the room over. "Same time tomorrow. We have three days before the assault. You will be ready."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Vette hummed a quiet tune as she cut the last wire, Greta giving her a thumbs up as the cameras cut off. She once knew a guy that could have looped the images so smoothly they could have been in and out before anyone caught on.

This wasn't a high skill grab job, however, so killing the cameras would be good enough. The giant army outside should serve as plenty of distraction. Greta offered her hand to pull her from the wall's guts, her voice crackling over the radio.

"Cameras down, proceeding."

They moved down the hall, meeting no resistance as they cut through yet another security door by overloading the console. Morgan and the rest of the men were breaking through the defences around the generators, she and Greta having split off at the start to cut off the enemies eyes. Best to keep them guessing as long as possible, in her opinion. Quinn had agreed.

With the cameras down they were moving to link up, dropping down a shaft to avoid a hallway filled with turrets.

The infiltration had gone far smoother than she had anticipated, really. A traitor had given them schematics, helpfully informed them about an old smugglers tunnel that everyone had forgotten about, and only wanted a way off the planet in return. His information was accurate, to her surprise. A rarity with turncoats.

Using the tunnel had undercut the shield rather effectively. She shook her head. They really should have been more thorough.

The resistance had, annoyingly, embedded all their electronics deep in the wall, forcing her and Greta to split off and find the connection point between them and the rest of the base. Quinn had pointed out that, since the generators were so important, they would run in a contained system.

He'd been right, as usual. They had left one point where the wires connected, so by snipping it the resistance was blind down here. Horas had grunted that with a building this old, and with the increased pressure on the resistance, it was a miracle there was only one weak point in the system.

They'd undoubtedly send people down here eventually, their camera's mysteriously dying far too suspicious, but it would be low priority compared to the army outside.

She bent open the grate in her way, hopping out of the shaft and looking at her display. Only two hallways from the team's position, perfect. Greta crawled out, dusting off her blaster. "This is going quite smo-"

Vette bonked her over the head. "Shush. You can think it, but no speaking out loud."

She got an annoyed scowl in return. Or, since her helmet hid her expression, a grateful smile filled with adoration.

She was pretty sure it was a scowl. Shrugging, and setting a good pace down the hall, she turned the corner and froze.

A giant door locked off the hall, one that was not on their schematics. No console was in sight, and it seemed to be made of military-grade durasteel. Her eyes roved over the plans. "There. Two levels up and through an, ah fuck that's a mess hall. Alright, it's fine. Hopefully no one is having lunch. Though the mess hall and down another shaft. Should get us past the door."

Greta nodded, so they got moving again. The room was indeed empty, save for a terrified cook that fainted when Greta pointed her blaster at him. Vette shrugged, broke through a cheap, shitty padlock keeping the storage closet closed and pointed down at the floor. "Smash."

Her companion set a small, coned grenade on the floor, both of them backing off as it tore a hole through the thick ferrocrete. She hopped in, slowing her fall as Greta balanced on her shoulders.

Not the most dignified way down, but she was the only one strong enough to slow their descent. Faster than using a rope, anyway.

They detonated another low yield hole maker at the bottom, her own special name for the very boring, technically named grenades, and then she was looking at the other side of the giant door.

She checked the time, saw they were only four minutes behind schedule, and picked up the pace.

Soon enough they were running through rooms and hallways marked by battle, lightsaber touched corpses littering the floor. Her breath hitched as they caught up, finding Morgan walking forwards as the lieutenant ordered his men back.

Two robed individuals were blocking the only way inside the generator room. One of which she recognized.

The knight that had run after the ambush, still the only time she had gotten to use her beskar bullets. She'd had backup back then too. Morgan had told her it had been a padawan. A trainee.

Vette didn't judge this new companion of hers to be a padawan. Not at all.