Chap 28. Tatooine arc: Wrath

Morgan looked around, breathing deeply through his helmet. The cooling function helped, technically speaking, but it sure didn't make the desert any less fun to be in. Still, it was novel to be alone again.

No sith to keep in line or soldiers to keep a brave face for. No Vette, no matter how much he enjoyed her company, to derail his train of thought. Just him and a lightsaber, hunting a dangerous beast.

It didn't bring back fond memories, of course, but it did bring them back. Of doing the very same on Korriban, having just left that god forsaken project. Hunting and stalking and killing, all without a second thought. With no lives to risk but his own. That part he did miss.

Looking around, and tapping his datapad twice for effect, he shrugged. "Alright, so this is where the cave is supposed to be. Small problem, no cave."

Izzeebowe hadn't struck him as a liar. So if it isn't here, but should be… Morgan looked down, sighing deeply. "The desert buried it. Fantastic."

He sat, shutting off his senses one by one until nothing remained but the Force. The desert was surprisingly filled with life, small and big, but he wasn't looking for just any life. No, he needed a predator. A beast that all others avoid, surrounded by death. His perception turned down, feeling the Force knot like a chokehold.

"Guess that's it. That, or I'm going to need to bring heavy equipment."

Telekinesis wasn't a skill he'd been practising. Not as much as he should have been, anyway. Two knives sufficed to kill, and against other Force users more didn't matter as much. But it hampered him here, shifting sand and letting himself be dragged under. His armour was airtight, and came with hours of oxygen, but being buried alive still wasn't fun.

But he worked, pushing as he made his profile as slim as he could. His weight helped, pressing down on the sand and sinking with the slightest provocation. It took minutes, minutes that really hammered home that he wasn't one built for raw power, until his feet touched stone.

He reactivated his helmet's camera, opening his eyes. A vast cave stretched before him, tunnels dug with teeth and claw spreading in all directions. The chokehold was his guide, showing the way as he stepped past and over corpses in various stages of decomposition.

Dozens and dozens, most he didn't recognize, and all torn apart. Whatever the sand demon was, it wasn't shy about killing. Still, he looked around. The whole cave had been buried for god knows how long, but the bodies here were still rotting. No food would weaken it, and also make him seem more appealing to eat. Great.

He knew there was a peaceful solution to this. The details were a bit vague, but he remembered a sort of dance. Mimicking movement? Either way, he could do this without killing. He could, for once, use his knowledge as more than a bandage. He rounded another corner, pausing as the cave widened. "Well, could be worse."

His helmet muted all sound, so the beast didn't stur. It gave him time to study it, to approximate size. Not the largest beast he'd seen, but easily over forty feet tall. That would be around four small ish elephants, Morgan frowning. Spider-like legs, covered in thick carapace, and two extended eyes made it seem near twisted. Its mouth was filled with razor teeth, and as his visor zoomed he could see its legs ended in spikes.

Standing there, and trying to decide how to kill it should it come to that, Morgan blinked. The beast woke up, shaking itself like a dog, and moved over to the side of the cave. He could see a bunch of corpses there, less rotten than the others, and it spent some minutes digging through the pile.

He hadn't moved, but he hadn't been invisible either. It had looked, seen, and ignored? Not the behaviour of an apex predator. Blind?

That didn't make sense. He sat, the difference between standing and sitting not all that profound should a fight break out, and closed his eyes. Too much had been changing, for too long, for him to take things at face value. Too much had gone wrong not to take the time to figure things out for himself.

And here? Alone, with no deadlines and nothing to distract him? It might be the best chance he'd get to slow down. To think before being forced to act.

So he sank into the Force, seeing what he'd assumed was a chokehold being more. A pattern of sorts, pushing out and looping back around itself. The beast was blind, he realised, and used the Force to see. To feel, in a way, around itself. He studied it, the patterns too alien for him to make sense of, and poked it.

The beast whirled, taking a few aggressive steps. Morgan made the equivalent of a peaceful gesture, calming waves of the Force diffusing the tension. It didn't relax, pushing its sight farther out until it washed over him. It sniffed, the best he could translate, and actually took some of his power into itself.

Morgan calmed, soothing emotions and placating memories flowing to the beast with some effort. A mental attack, but one meant for communication rather than harm. It ate them, subsuming them to become part of it. Then it paused, and pushed some back.

Alien senses scoured the sands, hunting prey and water. What I found I devoured, only stopping when my hunger was sated. When my thirst wasn't so strong. Weeks I had spent, alone and confused, until I had found them. Things moving in packs, crunching as I bit. The water made me thrill in contentment, scaring the few others there. I didn't care about them, not now.

Hunting grew easier now that I could see again. I grew tired, even though I could run and jump and hunt, and I learned to pace myself. To bury prey in the hot sands and dig tunnels to bring water to my nest. At night I watched the skies, shining orbs I could not see but knew the existence of.

I was growing older. Older than I should be. No mate had come when I sang, not for weeks and months, but I did not grow lonely. Small, shouting things came. They wished to see as I did, but I could not speak to them. When I learned how, they had stopped coming. When they came again, they rejected my gifts. My water, my food. They came with anger, and I gave them to the sands. Then one more, after so many years in silence. One that shone like the stars I'd longed to see, and that shared with me her senses. I learned what she wished of me, and I gave it in trade. In barter, even though I do not know when I learned this practice. Perhaps more will come, to share with me their stories of the beyond.

Morgan recoiled, shaking his head roughly. The beast, Hunter, had settled after eating her fill. She watched him, intelligent eyes tracking him as he righted himself. How she did that without the eyes being able to see, he had no idea. "Well, that's new. You friendly?"

Hunter tilted her head, her eyes blinking. He knew she couldn't see, remembered she couldn't, and it still caught him off guard. And she couldn't understand speech, right. He took a moment to craft a memory, something more sophisticated than before, and send it off.

She stilled, a return coming after a few moments. He didn't let himself be pulled in, this time, and managed to distil it. Truce among the waters. Trade barter. Space.

He pulled up the first time he went into orbit, seeing Korriban shrink and shrink until he could overlay the Academy with his thumb. A thrill resounded off the walls, the returning memory coming soon after. Shining rock and running prey. Reflective sand and warring herds. Cold ones and speaking light. Breaking and tearing, until the light stopped attacking her mind.

Morgan blinked, looking up. 'Christ. Well, no more rakata on Tatooine.'

He sent back thanks, a memory of when Vette had unknowingly pulled him out of a panic attack and the profound gratitude that came with it, and they stalled. Hunter was still watching him, her eyes blinking in patterns more than need, and he didn't know where to go from there.

Space, distance. Running fast, over dunes and sand unending as she chased the suns.

Sending back the memory arriving on Tatooine, of watching the planet grow instead of shrink, he braced. The reply came, intense in all the ways he wasn't used to. Confusion, watching. Receiving without giving back. Intent before the hunt, of deciding today she would replenish her food supply.

Eyes closing, he was surer than ever Hunter wouldn't attack, he pushed a memory. Not one of this life, of an old one. Of staring at a screen, fat and happy and content, as pixels bathed in freely given blood.

Hunter blinked, clearly confused, but seemed uncaring of his origin. Morgan sighed, relieved, uncertain how else he would have gotten the point across, and something eased. The little ball of stress he'd been holding, easy enough to ignore, but that he never quite forgot.

That he was a stranger, here, and the hell that would follow should the wrong people learn of that. He didn't examine the part that felt horribly relaxed, now that one sentient mind hadn't turned on him the moment it learned.

The sand demon raised a spiked leg, seeming intent to pierce skin and give the blood he'd bartered for, but a quick memory made it pause. Morgan sent another one, of the discomfort of being filthy, and he got back a moment of joy when Hunter had found an oasis large enough to swim in.

Now what? Going straight to the Tusken Raiders was a possibility, but it had taken him most of two days to get here already. He knew where he had to go, and it would take another three without a new speeder. 'Fucking krayt dragon.'

Waiting as the waters emptied, patient even though she didn't feel like it. Hunting the sand worm had proven too much for her, especially while near blind. Waiting wasn't so bad, in comparison, and the thirst was manageable.

He sent back thanks, a memory of when Alyssa and Kala had saved Quinn's life. Long ranged radio wasn't working great, another facet that made the desert near suicide to enter, and then he got an idea.

Hunter stirred, intrigued as he sent over a proposal. Of coming with him, to his ship, and helping him with his hunt. When they were done, she could see the stars. To see Tatooine as he had, drifting in orbit.

She hunted the worm, enjoying the suns on her back and the strain in her legs. Then something went wrong, a shadow casting over her that could only mean one thing, and the worm had frozen. She sent it an offer, instinct bridging the gap where reason would have failed. The worm turned to the looming threat, and she made ready to join.

"I'll take that as a yes." Standing still as Hunter approached, and swallowing the pang of fear as she loomed over him, she motioned with her head. "Riding a sand demon. Yea, why ever not."

He stood and jumped, standing on its back. A short memory of swimming through sand made him lie down, expending some effort to anchor himself to Hunter's armour. Plenty of texture made telekinesis easier, although he wouldn't be able to hold it long. 'Really need to train that up.'

His raw power might be growing as slow as it could without stagnating, but practice made perfect. No matter how much he ended up having, using it more effectively could only help. Then they were swimming, his reserves emptying quickly enough he sent her a memory.

They surfaced soon after, her legs granting easy purchase on the loose sand. Another memory and they were off, back to the ship.

It would take time, so he got as comfortable as he could and talked. Trading memories of primitive cities cast in concrete and bickering comradery. Of when Hunter had first managed to slay a krayt dragon, having grown annoyed at their existence. Pinning down when, exactly, the memories took place was harder. She was centuries old, and putting aside a few where she was obviously still growing, looked nearly identical.

Scars were the only real hint he got, but as they kept talking more details clicked into place. This wasn't just speech. Memories carried more, and he managed to pick out mannerisms aplenty. Likewise, Hunter learned what it was like to walk on two legs. To live, and fight, with people of their own race and stature. To be part of a community, both kind and not.

His good mood dampened when they got back to the ship, grounded for repairs. Four others surrounded it, the Enosis vessels, and he frowned. Hunter was disturbingly good at sneaking into Mos Ila without being seen, although they likely tripped more than a few sensors. Something to deal with later.

This whole section of the hangar had been closed off, soldiers wearing Enosis colours rerouting traffic and keeping guard. They grew more than a little alarmed when he approached, Hunter sniffing with a pleased thrill, until a robed man waved them down. It parted just enough to see the armour underneath, dull black and lacking all but a captain's insignia.

Kripaa saluted, a startlingly military gesture, until Morgan remembered he'd been selected to lead Enosis's special forces. The pureblood seemed nervous, his eyes straight ahead, until Morgan hopped down. "Kripaa. Hunter is with me, and best she stays like that."

The man nodded, the sand demon walking forward carefully. To everyone else it must have looked like a predator on the prowl, but he knew better. Knew her better. "Why are you on guard duty?"

"Sir." The pureblood seemed to stiffen further, his shields tight. "I've been ordered to escort you to Lord Zethix without delay. He requests you speak to no other."

"Presumptuous." Hunter growled at the exact right moment, so perfectly in sync he wondered if she planned it. "But fair enough. I'm happy I caught Soft Voice before he left. Lead the way, captain."

They walked, Hunter keeping close at his request, and he observed. Four ships, military but clearly in need of refurbishing, dominated the large hangar. The Aurora was one over, dozens of engineers scuttering about as they worked. Soldiers, accompanied by sith, walked with purpose.

Many of the sith gave him curious glances, seeming to recognize Kripaa far more often than himself. Not that he blamed them, of course. He barely recognized any. Then a few startled, whispering to their fellows, and soon enough the whole hangar fell to absolute silence.

"So, I guess my request to not glorify your absentee leader hasn't been going well?" He had switched his helmet to a private channel, no need to make a fuss, but that also made it harder to read Kripaa's body language. "Captain?"

"Sir. Lord Zethix deemed it important you are not forgotten as our ranks grew. New acolytes are instructed to study our time on Korriban. To learn from it. You included, sir."

Something akin to worry pooled in his gut, some effort making his tone light. "You're not a fresh recruit, Kripaa, enough with the honorifics. Something's happened, clearly, and Soft Voice wants to tell me in person. I can accept that. Now relax. Whatever it is, I'm not going to lose it."

No answer came, he was distracted as Hunter took an interest in the ships, and he spent the time it took to walk to the ships hangar convincing her not to take a bite. The ship's storage bay was deserted, Hunter skittering aboard with childlike glee, but it was Soft Voice that took up his attention.

The devaronian hadn't changed much. Still hulking, still watching with eyes that spoke of intelligence. His armour had changed, having been fit for his frame, but his face still held the same easy composure. Or it had, because the moment he saw Morgan, it twitched. Growing a little more closed off, guarded.

Morgan thanked Hunter with an off-handed wave, the sand demon having taken his old friend's attention long enough he could compare the two states. "If this is a coup, I'll remind you that's against Enosis tenets."

Astara laughed, her eyes dancing with mirth, and the worry turned to something nastier. 'They're afraid.'

"Enough. What has happened?" Soft Voice sighed, motioning to the sand demon. Morgan tensed. "She will behave. What has happened?"

"Vette has been taken. Her second in command, a mandalorian by the name of Dorka, approached us for assistance. He knows of your relationship with her, evidently, and wishes for me to convey they are doing everything they can to locate her. The tracking device that she wears, which only you and Dorka can access, is blocked. No traces remain, but we are mobilising for a full scale search."

Power screamed as Morgan's control snapped, sith and soldiers alike flinching back. Only Soft Voice himself weather the waves of wrath with anything approaching confidence, his body language relaxed. Hunter ran over, hissing loudly as she stood over him.

Soft Voice motioned for calm, the hangar emptying as he waved. "Please tell Hunter to relax. I will not condone violence against our people."

It snapped off, as sudden as it had appeared, and Morgan brought iron shields over his mind. He placated Hunter with a thought, the sand demon relaxing slightly. "How long ago?"

Astara answered, the only other sith still in the hangar. She had recovered from his outburst, seeming little changed. "A little over twenty hours."

"Soon after my radio stopped working. My people?"

Soft Voice nodded to the Aurora. "Preparing. As the highest ranked sith on the planet I took authority over them. With your return this has, naturally, reverted back to you. Alyssa and Inara insisted they remained to assist captain Quinn, a request I granted. Your Chosen told Kripaa, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off when he came to collect them. A snag I have let be until your return."

Breathing slowly, and shunting off panic and anger behind his shields, he nodded. "Good, I'll deal with them later. Someone tell Quinn to fetch me something from Vette. Something she has attachment to."

Astara blurred, moving away. Soft Voice stepped closer. "I'm sorry, my friend. We will get her back."

"Even if I have to break this planet to do it." Morgan spoke without inflection, feeling Hunter bump him with her head. "I'm alright, pretty one. Hunter, this is Soft Voice."

He sent her their introduction, of fighting and surviving side by side in the project. Of dueling a Darth, laughing on a roof when they got their asses kicked. Hunter thrilled at him. "She says hello."

The togruta returned as the devaronian was introducing himself, holding out a blaster. "Her spare, but captain Quinn told me he remembered her obsessing over it."

"It's from her early days as a pirate." Morgan took it, holding it up to Hunter as he sent her a memory. She sniffed, more with the Force than anything biological, and nodded jerkily. "She got the scent. How soon until you can mobilise?"

"They can't be weak if they took her. Two minutes and I can have two dozen sith ready. Veterans from Balmorra and Korriban."

Morgan nodded sharply. "I didn't get a vision, hold off on lethal force until we know more."

"Of course." Soft Voice agreed.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Morgan turned and left, the monster close behind, and Soft Voice nodded to himself. "Could have gone worse."

"He nearly killed two people." Astara pointed out. "And since when does he get visions?"

"They are fine, and we have a method to track Vette. He has gotten them since Korriban, but not even I know the full extent."

"The sand demon, yes. I did some reading on them when we detoured to Tatooine. They can live for centuries, hunt krayt dragons for sport and this one appears Force sensitive. His captain didn't mention its existence, meaning it wasn't here before he left to find it. I'm pretty sure I remember the man telling me his mission was to kill it and bathe in its blood."

"That's our Morgan, always behaving as expected." Astara conceded the point, Soft Voice humming. "And he's been getting stronger. Well, more skilled. I wonder who will win between us."

"No offence, sir, but he's a Darth's apprentice. Training like that matters."

The devaronian shrugged, briefly contemplating whether she was playing dumb or genuinely didn't know about Teacher. "So it does. Come, we need to join the men."

He'd already ordered a strike team assembled when he got word his friend had returned, but he hadn't quite expected to move this quickly. Stupid of him, really, to not predict Morgan was going to show up with a Force bloodhound.

His people had assembled by the time he got to the hangar, waving Astara away. "Hold down the fort. I'll be fine."

A nod and he was inside, the hatch closing with a groan. He really needed to see about updating his equipment one of these days. Under the command of Darth Marr or not, budget cuts hit hard.

The sith inside were silent, Kripaa nodding to the pilot. Then the pureblood turned to him, eyes searching. "Is it true?"

"What is?"

"That Lord Morgan killed a Sith Lord, terrifying Nar Shaddaa into submission. That his soldiers are connected to the Force by his will."

"You have met them yourself. What did you find?"

"Nothing of the sort. Stronger, but that is all." Kripaa shrugged. "I was just wondering, sir."

"Wondering is fine. Let's make sure our old friend doesn't go insane and bring back his girlfriend, alright?"

"Of course. Though I doubt there will be much left after he is done with them. I remember what happened on Korriban, sir."

So did he.

Balmorra had allowed them time to train together again, something proving to be a luxury, but this was a visit. Nothing more than swinging by because they were close, to let the rank and file see the man. Instead it came down to this, and he only hoped it wasn't a Republic element that had taken her.

His friend would undoubtedly start a war. A war he was sure they would win, seeing as he didn't know of any jedi presence on the planet, but not one he wanted. He looked down through the heavy duty window as they flew out over the desert, frowning. Morgan was there, riding that beast of his, and they made good time.

A shuttle was faster, of course, right up until they got hit with a sandstorm. Or one of the suns would fry their vessel, or a dozen other things. On planets such as these using its own resources was often best.

He wondered, sometimes. His friend had come far under Teacher's influence, the few lessons he'd enjoyed on Balmorra worth their weight in gold, and he wondered. He didn't seem to have reached his potential, not like some of his men had, and neither did he seem to run out of motivation.

Their power bases were intertwined, much more so than was normal for their kind, but his was growing faster. More sith, more soldiers. More ships and more influence. The title of Lord wasn't far off, not with how he was performing, and with it would come more trust from a member of the Dark Council.

Yet his friend, while commanding no sith and fielding only a single ship, felt more dangerous. Not right now, perhaps, but in potential. What he represented. Zethix could force, bribe or inspire more men to follow, but Mad Mouse could make them more. Stronger and faster, durable and strong. Following such a lord would tempt many, much more so than money.

Then there was Vette herself, who was quickly becoming one of the most dangerous underworld leaders in the galaxy. Small, perhaps, but with talent. Able to find and entice competence and loyalty, spreading her influence far. The fact she and Morgan were all but inseparable didn't hurt, for him or her.

Not too long now, and Vette could supply anything his friend would need. The black market was not under sith control, not under anyone's control, so other Lord's couldn't contest him as easily. No blocking supply lines, ordering moff's to withhold support. An ever growing army, unconstrained by Imperial supplies and spurred on by the promise of power.

And the Enosis would be there to support him, as he had supported them. He had learned his lesson a lifetime ago. How even the greatest could not stand alone forever. About thinking he was so great the sky itself would bend before breaking him. Realised, perhaps halfway through their private hell on Korriban, that his friend would surpass him.

Not yet, but soon.

The craft slowed, snapping him back to the present. Their pilot spoke, voice calm. "Long ranged scanners are unclear, sir, but it appears an unmarked settlement is our destination. The sith and his mount are heading straight for it."

"Overtake him and set us down."

The pilot complied, landing some two hundred yards from the village. People, men and women both, exited as Morgan came to a stop. He jumped off the beast and landed hard, sand flying about. "Jedi."

Soft Voice nodded. His men were spreading out, forming a vague half circle along the entrance, and stayed in their groups. No snarling or aggression, no wrath on their faces. Perfectly calm, the Dark leashed instead of rampant. Veterans, all of them, and he took a moment of bask in pride. The jedi matched them for numbers, though none appeared armed.

"Greetings. How may we be of assistance?"

Morgan stepped forward, his tone flat. The rage was still there, frozen instead of boiling. A different sort of anger, Soft Voice knew, and no less dangerous for it. "Release her."

Their spokesperson, an elderly man with a bland look, spread his arms. "We hold no prisoners that need releasing."

"You're a massive idiot, though." The voice took him off guard, the twi'lek skipping past the old man with a grin. She was shaking her head. "If my Morgan wasn't so pleasant and kind and wonderful this whole thing could have ended rather nastily. With orbital bombardment, for example. Maybe set that beastie on you, though Goddess knows where he got that from."

His friend wrapped both his arms and the Force around the girl, doing something he had no hope of interpreting. A shield, of sorts, but none he recognized. Checking her over? He cleared his throat loudly.

"Could someone be so kind as to explain what is going on? Before we plunge this world into warfare over a misunderstanding, preferably."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Vette skipped along the road, doing her best to appear as innocent as she could. Being armed this heavily hindered her efforts, but that was no excuse not to try!

Whom, or what, ever was following her sure was being cautious about it. Morgan was gone to do his spiritual quest thing, so it probably didn't concern him, but who else could it be? The Exchange? They wouldn't be so hesitant about it.

Hutts? She giggled, the sound sending what few people still out and about scrambling indoors. The hutts would be about as subtle as a meteor shower.

She looked around the small village, the central hub for some two hundred moisture farms in the area. Small and rustic, build as much out of sand as metal. She rather liked it, actually, so making a mess would be rude. "Alright, alright. I know my masterful performance has been fooling you perfectly, but I'm getting bored. Whadda ya want?"

A robed figure stepped out of an empty alleyway, making her tilt her head. "Neat trick."

"You will come with me. You will not resist. You will not try to harm yourself or others."

"That's rude." She complained, tapping her blaster. "Want to explain yourself or should I just shoot you now?"

The man paused, his body language relaxed. "So it is true. A new fleshcrafter walks the galaxy."

"I'm getting real tired of this." Her voice remained carefree even as she tensed. After Morgan again, then. She was almost insulted. Couldn't people just try to kill her for her, for once? "And what's a fleshcrafter? I'm not into whatever cult you're selling."

"You will come with me." The figure waved his hand as if performing a magic trick. "You will not harm yourself or others."

"No."

Another pause, then a sigh. "A well trained fleshcrafter."

"Now hold on a moment." She shot as the man moved, missing by an inch. Scrambling back, the fucker was way faster than her, she pulled out a grenade. A hand grabbed the arm, its strength locked her in place, and she was forced to drop it harmlessly. "Don't go touching people without permission, weirdo."

She kicked him in the balls, the man's peaceful expression unchanged, and her other hand was captured as well. "Really? What's next, handcuffs? You're not my type, sorry."

"Please remain silent."

"You don't know me at all, do you?" She winked and licked her lips. "I'm going to drink your spleen."

They started moving, the man never releasing her for a moment, and she decided to go with it. Being loaded onto a speeder didn't give her an opportunity to escape, and her attempt to stab him with her vibro-knife went nowhere. Fighting was counterproductive, she decided, especially after he ignored another kick to the balls. Seriously, who does that?

"Oh." She narrowed her eyes, sagging in her seat. "You're a jedi. Isn't that a crime? To not wear a lightsaber, I mean."

"It is not. We are pacifists."

She snorted. "Right. Lots of pacifism in kidnapping someone."

"Would you prefer I hurt you, miss?"

"You?" She thought about that, considering. "Nah. I have a guy for that."

The jedi didn't respond, speeding through the desert. It wasn't too long, all things considered, but the wait felt like it. With the adrenaline of combat gone, she got bored. A dangerous thing, normally, but the jedi still had her in one of those stone grips. One hand only, bent halfway backwards to maintain his grip on both her and the steering wheel, and she wondered how he wasn't in pain.

"You in pain? I'm no stranger to holding extreme positions, but you don't seem the type."

"The Force blesses us."

She grinned. "Religion, now that I can debate. Did you know an old god of war was born when another, older, god cut an even older god's dick off? As a side point, does this mean the Light can take pain?"

"It can." He replied. She'd kill to have a poker face like that. "Are you educated on matters of the Force?"

"Weird energy thing, connecting all life in the universe. Makes you fine people capable of all the strange shit you do. Takes you when you die, or so you believe."

"Indeed." He seemed interested for the first time, the speeder slowing. A village appeared from near nowhere, blending in so well she blinked in surprise. "I would like to speak more on this later."

"You're the captor." She shrugged. When he let her go she mimed running for it, raising an eyebrow. "I can leave?"

"If you think you can survive the desert."

Probably not, then. Stealing his speeder was fair game, though. "Nah. So, what you need little old me for?"

"We will talk inside."

The village wasn't much, honestly. Little technology, just enough to survive this deep in the desert, and houses made of sand. Some four dozen people lived here, including children, and she stared when she saw a pregnant woman. "Isn't sex, like, forbidden?"

"It is not. Attachments are forbidden. Intercourse is encouraged."

She brightened. "Oh. Didn't know the jedi were cool like that. Casual sex is great, right? Doesn't compare to finding the one, mind you, but still. Good on you guys."

They entered the largest building, her kidnapper taking the central seat. Another five jedi were in attendance, forming a rough circle. She was left standing in the middle, turning her head. "Cool, cool. Very cult-like, well done. Is it usual for you guys to send your leader to kidnap innocent twi'lek off the street?"

No one so much as twitched, making her decide she didn't much like people that could let go of their irritation. She sighed. "Fine. Anyone going to tell me what I'm here for now?"

"We wish to speak to your master." The man said, the others nodding. Creepily in sync, too. Vette shuddered for effect. "We wish to ask him questions without jedi or sith interference."

"You guys are jedi." She pointed out. "Right?"

"We are a separate order, bound but not. We do not war, nor perform violence."

Vette nodded, snapping her fingers. "So when Morgan finds me here and starts killing you all, what then? Going to roll over and die?"

"He will not."

"You sound very certain of that. I mean, I don't judge what you're into, but I get pretty pissed when someone hurts him."

A woman spoke up, arms folded beneath her rope. "He has been observed. He does not strike the first blow."

"He didn't?" Vette asked, confused. "You guys did. You know, when you kidnapped his girlfriend?"

Silence followed, making her even more confused. "I. Do you know, like, anything about him? I'm not one to judge, but he's killed a lot of people. Mostly when they hurt those he loves, so I'm really not sure where you're getting this stuff from. He's going to come here, and if he sees me at all hurt, or even one word of complaint leaves my mouth, he's going to start butchering. Him and half a hundred sith that just landed on the planet, who, you know, venerate him."

The old man leaned forwards, eyes intent. "He will not negotiate? We foresaw an exchange of knowledge, a hard man turned to a kinder path. A chance to influence the sith that carries the potential to burn half this galaxy to ashes. To inspire more worthy goals than conquest."

"If you had sent him a postcard." She sat down, crossing her leg and turning her back on half their leadership. Not her fault they sat in a circle. "I mean, he's pretty reasonable. Unless, as I said, you hurt those he loves. Or in any way inconvenience them, really. He's still sith."

"You are in love." Another man declared, as if she hadn't just told them that. The man looked to their sect-leader. "We have erred."

"So it would seem. We are committed. We will defend ourselves."

She shrugged. "Sure. How many of you are there, exactly? I sure hope all of you are proper jedi knights, cause the fuckers coming for me make a living out of warfare. Gosh jolly, being attached to a Darth's apprentice sure does come with perks."

More silence, but no worried looks. No shuffling or wary frowns. Just plain acceptance, thinking over the next logical step. Their leader spoke, pulling down his hood. It revealed a plain face, clean shaven and almost comically wrinkled. "My name is Artemus. We would like your help in preventing this."

"Uuhm." She swallowed, taken aback. "What? You kidnap me, refuse to let me leave, and then ask for my help?"

"Yes."

"Why should I?"

"We teach what few know, fewer would impart, and offer guidance for your mate's quest."

Straight for the jugular, she approved. "Still not seeing what I get out of this."

"The location of lost treasures, hidden by time. Of enemies obscured, those that bring poison to our children." Artemus offered. Vette frowned, nodding after a few seconds.

Now, to turn this fiasco into something resembling a victory. "I can't promise anything. He usually listens to me, but that's his choice. I don't have any authority over him. None. He decides to kill you all, he will. Having said that, seeing me safe and sound should stop any knee jerk reactions. From there an apology, an honest one, should work wonders. The promise of knowledge will too. Also, he might be a little aggressive until he sees me. Try not to make any sudden moves."

Firm nods were exchanged in possibly the most synchronised manner she'd ever seen, the meeting ending. Artemus led her to a single room house, cleared and empty. She raised an eyebrow, causing him to shrug. "We prepared for visitors. One or four, we do not know."

"So you lot can see the future, then?"

"No one can see the future. We foresee possible futures and act accordingly."

"That something you're going to teach Morgan?"

Artemus shrugged. "Perhaps. It will take decades to clear his mind, to achieve balance complete, but we do not forbid any action before its time."

"Except pacifism."

"To kill is to remove variation, and variation is what binds the past and present to tomorrow." He pointed to a bed, fresh sheets and small pillars adorned on it. "Rest. He will be here tomorrow or in a week, but no later than two."

"Useless." She grinned, the old man's face serene. "I can do stuff like that too. You will die tomorrow or in two decades. Or anywhere in between, really. Maybe later than that."

The door shut without answer, making her huff. "Rude."

The room was nice enough. A kitchen was in a small side room, another revealing a small but functioning bathroom. The bed itself was expansive and soft, poking revealed it to be stuffed with some sort of feather, and she collapsed on it.

'So, escape or wait?'

If they could see the future they should have already deactivated the speeders, it is what she would do, but she could try without. Her body was as strong as ever, surviving a few days in the desert wasn't so unlikely. Especially if she could steal some water purifiers and rations.

'Eh. I run and these people die.' She snorted, rolling over and taking off her armour. 'That would make me feel just terrible. Still, he likes knowledge. Not that I have anything to apologise for, of course.'

She slept well enough, the early morning greeting her with some of the blandest food in existence. The men and women around her ate as if used to it, but she put it down after a few bites. Artemus looked at her. "You do not like the food?"

"You do?" She pointed at it accusingly, staring back at the man. "Did you remove your tastebuds with your sense of humour?"

"Yes."

She paused, shrugging. "Fair enough. Doesn't mean others did."

An hour or so of boredom later and the village kicked into motion, all those she suspected as jedi moving to the entrance. Harder to spot them than it sounded, seeing as none carried weapons. She joined, taking out her binoculars. Everyone else stood just inside, waiting patiently.

"Oh. He got a new pet. Beast? A sand demon. How would you face up against one?"

Artemus didn't even blink, hands folded in his robes. "Poorly. They are masters of the hunt, and their strength eclipses our own."

"Well, good thing I'm being so reasonable." She looked up, the shuttle appearing. "Cause they brought sith, too. Better hope those belong to Morgan. More reasonable than most, that lot."

She stayed somewhat back as Morgan landed, his face unnaturally calm. Wasn't even wearing his helmet, something she would scold him over later. Bad habit of his.

"Jedi."

Huh, he really was pissed. She sighed dreamily, a smile on her lips. What little girl didn't dream of being rescued by a shining knight?

Well, this one looked ready to bathe in the blood of every man, woman and child to get her back, but her taste always did run somewhat extreme. Artemus welcomed them with as much enthusiasm as a dead worm, Vette rolling her eyes. "Greetings. How may we be of assistance?"

She shook her head, walking forward. Not what they practised, but then she came to suspect the old man was somewhat out of touch with reality. Too in touch? Either way. Morgan's voice rolled over everyone present, strangely heavy for being spoken in this much open space. "Release her."

Artemus spread out his hands. "We hold no prisoners that need releasing."

"You're a massive idiot, though." She stepped in before someone lost their patience, her included. "If my Morgan wasn't so pleasant and kind and wonderful this whole thing could have ended rather nastily. With orbital bombardment, for example. Maybe set that beastie on you, though Goddess knows where he got that from."

He met her halfway, wrapping her in a hug that was only partly physical. She could feel the Force weave around her, checking every inch of her shields. She nestled her head on his shoulder. "I'm fine. They didn't do anything to me. Well, except make me eat really bland food, and though that does deserve punishment it shouldn't be death."

"Could someone be so kind as to explain what is going on? Before we plunge this world into warfare over a misunderstanding, preferably."

She snorted, pulling back. Morgan let her, clearly reluctant. Her voice didn't carry far, meant only for him. "Go tell your psychopaths to stand down. The old man does have good intentions. Feel free to kill them if that changes. Pretty strong, though, and I'm eighty percent sure he doesn't feel pain."

Morgan waved his hand, the devaronian nodding as if he'd expected it. The sith stood down, looking neither disappointed nor glad. Strange sith, they were. Vette ignored them.

"So, what you thinking?"

"That killing them seems fair. But that's anger talking, and I'm better than that." He sounded like he was convincing himself more than her, so she squeezed his hand. When he spoke again it wasn't to her. "For what reason did you kidnap her?"

"I am Artemus. We belong to an order known as the Ensong, seeking to align ourselves with the Force." The man looked at the retreating sith, Zethix with them. He waited until their ship had taken off, and it struck Vette as wrong that he and Morgan hadn't exchanged words. Then she looked at his face and felt stupid. Force magic, right. "We offer teachings, if you are willing to listen with an open heart."

"An invitation would have been better." Vette grinned, mouthing 'I told you so' at the old man. He didn't react. "And you are aware I'm the apprentice of a Darth?"

Artemus shrugged, waving his hand to something she couldn't see. "Had you been found by the jedi, Tython would have shaped you into the greatest healer this galaxy has ever known. Had you been trained by any but sith, your life would have led to fortune for all. But we must make do, so I will teach you what I can."

"I honestly wonder why I keep stumbling into you people." She looked at Morgan, finding his face had lost most of its anger. He also looked tired, a little resigned. "Ancient shadows on Korriban happy I killed their dog, seedlings left behind by a half mad Force user powerful enough to play at god. More insane gods on Nar Shaddaa, and now you lot."

"You draw them. A tear, plain to see for those that have witnessed true creation. Come, we mustn't delay. One week before the spies in your camp report your absence and your master takes an interest. One week to learn a lifetime of knowledge."

Vette kissed him goodbye, stealing one of their speeders. As much as she would have liked to spend some time with him, he would be busy. She had a criminal empire to keep under control, too, and her kidnapping to explain away. 'A trap, perhaps, to lure them out? Lure who out?'

Arriving back at her base was met with silence, people staring as she walked inside. Expressing deep confidence wasn't exactly new to her, so no one questioned her absence. To her face, anyway. They would be questing it behind her back, so she would need to fix that first. Amelia smiled as she walked inside her office, Vette detecting a hint of genuine relief. "I'm back. Did the kids burn down the house?"

"Not as such, no. Dorka kept them on mission, but your absence has been noted."

"Figured that. I was thinking that I led some gang into a trap, took their stuff."

Amelia nodded thoughtfully. "No stuff has been taken, of course, but we should be able to make do. Not the first time you've done something like that alone, so people will buy it. Dorka will need to be briefed."

"Already on it."

Settling her people took time, and even though she knew she had nothing better to do, she resented it. Endless talks with Dorka, the mandalorian insisting proper protocols were written and officers appointed, with little time for herself. Days passed, her entertainingly chaotic band of mercs turning into an army.

Dorka, as insistent as he could be, hadn't been wrong. She was the driving force behind it all, and without her it ground to a halt. Now mercs wore proper colours, streamlined armour and knew who they answered to. Specialties were tested and grouped, a chain of command codified and she even set up a death-fund.

She had the money for it, and though few had stable relationships, many in her employ had people they cared about. People that got a significant amount of credits if they died on the job, no questions asked. Looking after your own was an old twi'lek custom, extending it to her men didn't seem that strange. Expensive, maybe, if the worst should happen, but at that point she would have other problems.

Amelia entered, looking concerned. "You've been working for four days straight, ma'am. The Enosis representative has informed me they will be leaving later today, if you still wish to meet with them."

"Oh, that." She cracked her back, standing. "Yea, I do. Shouldn't be long."

"Take your guard."

She rolled her eyes, collecting them before she left. When she'd caved and let Dorka assign her permanent bodyguards her Valkyries had been a natural choice. Their ranks had to be expended, though they were still female to the last, and the six on duty fell in behind her. Another six would be resting, having finished their shift, and the last squad should be asleep.

Having eighteen people permanently occupied like that still seemed a waste, but it was fun having people to order around. Especially because she had selected young, inexperienced women for the job. The kind she could tease or teach, depending on her mood, and who were too enthralled by her growing legend to complain.

Not that she skipped out on potential. If they didn't have room to grow they wouldn't be here in the first place.

The Enosis encampment was as impressive as always. Rows of soldiers guarded the perimeter, sith stalking between their ranks, and heavy guns had been placed on chokepoints. The gate guards verified her authentication, apparently they knew she travelled with a guard, and before long Astara picked them up.

"Vette." The smile in her voice was fake, she knew, but that was a purely intellectual understanding. Here, now, she genuinely looked pleased to see her. "It's been too long."

"You know how it is." She waved to her guard, standing still and ominous in their unmarked armour. "These are my Valkyries. The gate guard said they've been cleared?"

"Morgan spoke to Lord Zethix. Said he would appreciate it if we could relax some of the normal security around you. Come, come."

The frankly sin-beckoning togruta led them deeper, talking as she did. "We've expanded, as you can see. Four ships, some four thousand active troops. A little under two hundred sith, though many have just finished training."

"Didn't know that many survived Korriban."

Astara grinned. "They don't. We recruit heavily from native populations, apply our own curriculum. It has been effective. Scouting and offering a place in our organisation to potential recruits is the primary duty of all full members for the first week on any new population centre."

"And it makes them loyal to you personally, not the Empire. Didn't know the Darth's went for that."

"Darth Marr cares more about results, something we deliver without fail. Many believe our sith are weak but numerous, so they do not feel us a threat. We prefer to let them keep thinking that. Rooting out spies is ever entertaining, I can say that much."

Vette shrugged, remembering Atermus's warning. Morgan having spies in his army wasn't unexpected, exactly, but the old man seemed more intent than that. And neither had Morgan seemed surprised. She shook her head. "So, what does Mars have you doing?"

"Darth Marr." Astara corrected, smiling. "Fighting in war zones, mostly. Our numbers are comparatively small, but fielding this many sith gives us unique opportunities in battle. Destabilising local defence efforts, shoring up desperate last stands. We haven't stayed somewhere longer than a few weeks, so we've gotten good at moving. Transit gives us time to train the new recruits, Lord Zethix's favourite hobby."

"A hobby." The devaronian corrected, startling her. Her Valkyries whirled around, hands on their weapons. She waved at them to stand down. "But I do enjoy it. Always heartening to see one's potential come to the fore. Vette, I'm glad you came."

The sith, Morgan's best friend and one terrifyingly competent fighter, smiled. She grinned back. "Zethix. Well, you know how it is. You can only spend so long reorganising a galaxy spanning syndicate before it gets boring."

"Too true. May we have some privacy?"

He was only polite because of Morgan, she knew that. Still, she liked the giant. His tongue was as sharp as his mind, even though she'd never heard him vicious. "Sure."

Astara stayed, but her guard and some loitering soldiers moved away. Not too far, only enough to give them privacy, and they kept an eye out regardless. The sith nodded. "Thank you. I hear your syndicate is growing. Why have you not named it?"

"Names make it known. I don't want it known, not now and maybe not ever. To always have people wondering who answers to me, and who doesn't, is an advantage I'm not keen to give up."

"Fair." Zethix smiled, his eyes joining in after a second. Happy, or that good an actor? "I was wondering if we could have a deal, the Enosis and you."

"Depends on what kind."

"We get much of what we need from the Imperial Logistical Network, but the ILN doesn't carry everything. Likewise, even though we are sith, supplies can run thin. Money, however, seems to be flowing like water. A problem smugglers could handedly solve. If only I knew someone in the underworld, a dependable and resourceful group that could take care of this need of mine. And get rich doing it, of course."

Vette shrugged, pulling up her datapad and sending over an address. "Talk to Amelia. Fair warning, she's pretty much fanatically loyal to Morgan and he's as blind as a bat for that sort of stuff."

"What does that have to do with smuggling?" Astara asked, tilting her head.

"Nothing. Needed to get that out there. Anyway, talk to her. She knows who and where I have people and actually keeps up with the contracts being signed. Fairly sure I can supply within Imperial and Hutt space, but again, talk to Amelia."

"I will." Zethix said, nodding to her. Then he was gone, leaving her with just Astara. The togruta looked at her, head vaguely tilted. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"The fanatical comment. I run Enosis's intelligence division, so you understand that I am very good at reading people. It bothers you, and I would help if I can."

Vette snorted, glad her guard was still at a distance. It would have limited her possible responses rather strongly. "Why do you care?"

"Because you belong to Lord Morgan. I will admit Enosis is growing too fast for him to have any meaningful impact on our future, but he is one of our founders. Not to mention my boss's friend, perhaps the only one he has."

She let the ownership thing go. Sith were strange like that, and she meant well. "What, you don't count him as a friend?"

"A poor choice of words. Equal, perhaps. Leadership brings loneliness, for sith more than most. He is a powerful man with a fast growing base of power. Other sith fear him, high ranking Imperial elements want to use him. But he and Lord Morgan go back to a time when none of that was true, so they have trust. Equality, and from it friendship."

Vette sighed. "Fine, fine. We had a fight about it, is all. I made a comment about how he was building a cult, he didn't like it. I pushed, he pushed back. We're fine, makeup sex is as great as advertised, but I still think I made a valid point."

"And you're afraid of restarting the fight even though you feel you are right." Astara said after a few seconds. "I've known him for most of my life as a sith, although I will admit my measure of him is somewhat out of date. I doubt he has changed to the point where he no longer values open discussion, nor an admittance of wrongdoings. Talking about it, pardon the cliche, will help."

She shrugged. "Unless this is about a deeper, underlying issue, in which case it isn't about cultism at all. I am not a part of your relationship, nor would I wish to be."

"Great, thanks." The sarcasm was almost an afterthought, Vette shaking her head. "I was just going to have a look around, see if I can steal something. Bye."

Her guard formed around her again, she paid them little mind, and she walked almost aimlessly around. She talked with Mirla at some point, little more than small talk, and sighed as she got back to her own ship. "Take a break."

"Commander Dorka ordered us to guard you until relieved, ma'am."

"Then get the fuck out."

They left, closing the door. She knew by their footsteps they'd ignored her, taking up positions outside the room. She cursed their competence, a small smile breaking through. She fell on her bed, putting on a meaningless drama as she stared at the ceiling.

Then she was pacing the room, trying to get some work done, and then she was drafting a letter. On paper, even though the pencil made her hand cramp.

Writing things down had been a recommendation of the only therapist she'd ever attended, something about how it allowed people to order their thoughts. She looked at it, almost two pages of it, which could be distilled to a plea. Begging him to trust her as she trusted him, no matter what. To just tell her.

She sighed, deeply and with little effect, before burning the piece of paper. Turning, and kicking the bathroom door open, she stared at herself in the mirror.

"Coward."