Chap 29. Tatooine arc: Prophesying is naught but the realm of God

Artemus joined him in meditation, deep in the desert. A cave had been dug here, thousands of years ago, to give shelter. Raw Force power had created it, reinforcing the stone until sand could not crush it. The entrance was protected by expectation, thousands of jedi wishing it to remain free to those that saw its value.

The old man was an interesting teacher. He'd had a few, now, and each expected different things. Teacher demanded excellence, allowing for time but never sloth. Lady Trix, his old blademaster from Dromund Kaas, had demanded suffering. To learn from pain.

Now he breathed, meditating on the Force of Tatooine. It was old, filled with echoes and memories of jedi past, and older still was the well of power deep within. A nexus of energy, clinging to the planet like a blanket of snow. He breathed out, feeling the Dark fill to counter the Light, and knew neither of those really existed.

That has been his conclusion, back on Korriban. That the Force just was, and only people's relationship with it gave shape to the undefinable. How he'd decided that neither was right, and both was just as meaningless as neither. Artemus sat, nodding his head.

Not a man of many words. His teacher preferred a soft touch, guidance only in the most abstract sense. When he'd been promised healing techniques to grow his fleshcrafting, this wasn't what he had in mind. Still, listening to the heartbeat of the Force was an experience he didn't want to miss.

"Tell me about Korriban." Artemus spoke not with words, though he did that too, but with feelings. Emotions and instinct. It was familiar to Hunter, currently sleeping within eyesight. She held no great affection for him, that was an alien concept to her, but she saw him as part of the pack. More honest, in some ways. He had the suspicion she learned her way of communicating from the people that now served as his hosts. "About the training there."

"You want me to spill top secret military information?"

"Do you care about their secrets?"

He snorted. "No. We, I, were part of a special program. A project meant to select the next apprentice of a Darth. One instructor, an Overseer, and droids to train us. Keep us in line. Other than that? You want something, take it. Power gives right, the very foundation of sith belief distilled into practice. Want a slave? Take one. Torture, rape, kill? If you're strong enough, who's going to stop you?"

"Did you?"

"No." He weaved the Force into a bowtie, worn by a horse. Artemus smiled the smallest smile he'd ever seen. "But not because I was inherently good. Fear, and a lack of strength, made my choice for me. The devaronian, you've seen him, he was the one that protected me. Taught me. My very first teacher, in a way."

"He is your friend."

"He is. One of very few. Kidnapping one wasn't smart. Divining the future is all well and good, but don't let it overtake the present. Don't let the Force become your eyes, lest you want to see with nothing but uncertainty."

Artemus nodded, though Morgan knew he would not heed the advice. "You grew stronger, though."

"Training and time, sure. By then the devaronian and I were friends, building a faction of our own. Unity above all, that's what we strove for. Us wretched and meek. Korriban took more from me than I can remember, more than I ever wished, but it did give me power. Oh yes."

Silence, and he turned to the Force again. The gentle drumming, a heartbeat because that is what he envisioned it as, which nonetheless had the potential to crack the planet in half. It was serenity, he found, to sit here and listen. No wonder the Ensong behaved as they did. "Would you come to Tython, if I asked?"

"No." The question startled a laugh out of him. "But not because I don't want to. By all accounts, the jedi are the better alternative. A little heavy on the brainwashing of children, but it's hard to not seem angelic next to the sith. But no, not even if the High Council approved it. Not even if I could, by some miracle, convince the people that have trusted me with their lives to come with me."

"It needed to be asked." Artemus stood, beckoning. "Come, we must practise. Time, I'm afraid, goes quickly here."

He stood, just then noticing how hungry he was. "How long have we been here?"

"Two days. Food, then we train. Pain means nothing to me, so you will have a volunteer for your fleshcrafting."

And that still bothered him. How willing they were to help him, an enemy, and how far they went with it. Oh, he had heard their reasoning. Turning him to a kinder path, trying to convince him to join the jedi, what have you. But it wasn't working. Meditation on the Force wasn't making him itch to join the Light, and neither were the admittedly interesting discussions bending his opinions. They were just… helping.

They knew it wasn't working, and didn't seem to care. He ruffled the hair of some kid who's name he didn't know, smiling as he ran off. No fear for the big bad sith in armour, no cringing away. Artemus led them to a house, opening the door. "We prepared for visitors."

The bed was nice enough, though he pushed the small pillows off, and after lunch followed by a short nap he was awake again. His teacher was too, sitting under a star heavy night. Morgan jumped on the roof with a push, sitting next to the man. "So, how do you want to do this?"

"I will destroy my arm on the molecular level, you will attempt to heal it. It will give me a good grasp on your knowledge." An arm was presented, Morgan gripping it. "Start slow."

He did, tearing at flesh with a delicate touch. What damage he could do was healed in seconds, so he ramped it up. And again, until Artemus held up a hand. The arm was fine, a little red, and at no point had the old man's face changed expressions. "Good. We will do the opposite with your arm, and I will show you."

Pain came, but he swallowed it. Seemed unfair to complain about it, and it didn't matter so much. The shield that guarded his mind dampened an uncaring itch to apathy, the rest of his focussing on his arm. Artemus' healing was distinctly different, change rather than accelerated natural healing, but he was already picking out interesting bits.

How the Light took essence from people, using it to ensure the healer did not grow tired. How fat and muscle was consumed to replace critical tissue, all perfectly in balance. His own application felt like a hammer to a scalpel, inelegant and blunt. Yet, when the old man's grip tightened and the pain shot up a level, he did something the old man hadn't. Couldn't.

Morgan hardened the tissue in his arm, feeding Force to cells and closing the structure of flesh. Another push, and he doubled down. More hardening, his skin turning a greyish colour as blood pooled away, and Artemus let go. "This is sith alchemy."

"Maybe." He shrugged, reverting the damage. It stuck, stubborn, and he had to take a moment to force it down. "It works."

"It does. You cannibalised fat, as the light does, but failed to account for hormone levels. Left unchecked the subject will go into a blinding rage, something that would be counterproductive to healing."

Morgan snorted. "Very true. Again?"

Learning with Artemus devolved into experimentation, two different methods of healing blending to give rise to something new. Not that his teacher wished to become a fleshcrafter in the slightest, but the point remained. The old man spent less time instructing and more time discussing, sharing ideas and theories until the suns rose and thirst became unignorable.

"Return before midday, we have much to do." Morgan raised an eyebrow, not having broached the subject of leaving yet. Artemus nodded. "Midday, no later."

Hunter lowered herself so he could climb on, his datapad being loaded with coordinates to the sand people. As much as he would have loved to take Hunter with him permanently, she was getting impatient. She wanted to see the stars, to taste nothing and find if it had a flavour, so onwards they went.

The cave they went to, the location provided by their supposed guide on this planet, didn't look like much. The Sand People of Tatooine didn't believe in vast settlements, not this close to the towns and spaceports of outworlders, and the cave reflected it. There were perhaps a few hundred warriors there, all kneeling in the most abject display of subservience he'd received to date. Not respect, or fear, but reverence.

It felt like Amelia did, sometimes, and he suppressed a shudder. The lure of being worshipped was not one he wanted to go down, least of all with people he had to interact with regularly. Far too easy to forget who he was, where he came from, and embrace the sith ideology. To dominate without exception, and get stabbed in the back before he'd reached thirty.

Only very few sith, those that rose high enough to be acclaimed Darth, managed to avoid that fate. Either they did as he had, handling others with a light touch, or they were skilled enough it didn't matter. He didn't know which one would be worse to fight, honestly. The Lord of the Sith with a legion of loyal followers, or the schemer that had planned his death long before he was even aware of their existence.

Jaesa would be needed. She would be able to root out spies and assassins like no other, but that presented a problem. Her switch of allegiance was all but guaranteed, before. Now, when he could no more spare her teacher or parents than attack Baras directly, it became more complicated.

Would she still join if he'd killed all those that matter to her? Would she see he did not hate, but had no choice? Perhaps not. Hunter thrilled, a warning, and who he vaguely recognized as the chief bowed.

A map was presented, one he scanned to his datapad in a moment, and he nodded to the man. The chief bowed deeper, and that was that.

"Sharack Breev." He greeted, the suns beating down on his armour. "I have what I came for."

"So it seems, great sith. How did you dominate the Sand Demon?"

"I didn't. Here."

He sent over a copy, Sharack pulling up her own datapad. She hummed. "It marks a door carved into the wall of the Desert Wound Ravine. I have mapped this ravine, there is no such door. Humans are very low on the food chain there."

"I am not human." She flinched, bowing. Morgan shrugged. "Anything else?"

"The coordinates. I will follow stealthed, using the dune's shadows."

He nodded, Hunter moving on. The track to Mos Ila took time, time he spent sharing stories with someone who did not care that they should be impossible, and he waved down the alarmed perimeter guards as they approached.

"Well, at least you know she entered this time."

"Hold!" A woman, tall and looming and seemingly built for war, imposed herself between them and the city. Morgan raised an eyebrow. "It cannot be allowed to enter!"

"Well, you're a brave one. Or stupid. Are you stupid, soldier?"

She didn't rise to the bait, even though he hadn't meant it like that, and repeated her demand. Morgan sighed, pointing. The woman looked to see a dozen sith approaching, paling rapidly. He repeated his own question, stroking Hunter's scales. "Please answer truthfully."

"I am not stupid. That thing is a threat to every civilian under my charge. By my honour, I cannot allow it to enter."

"Sir!" Kripaa saluted, turning to the guard. "Stand down, soldier. Right now."

"Kripaa." Morgan greeted, his helmet augmenting his voice. "On guard duty again? I suppose there isn't much for you to do here."

"I cannot allow them to enter." The woman repeated, clearly afraid but standing strong. "Please. It cannot enter."

Morgan hopped off, sending Hunter a memory. The sand demon thrilled, moving away and into the desert. She'd be finding another way in, now that he told her her normal route was guarded. The woman looked like she didn't believe that had actually worked, bowing her head low. "Thank you, my Lord."

Kripaa seemed about ready to take her head, Morgan smiling. "You are courageous. Are you satisfied with your job here?"

"I am where I am supposed to be, my Lord. My wife and children depend on me."

He sighed. "A shame. Take care of your family, soldier. Should you ever wish for a change of career, contact my people."

Kripaa fell in line as he moved to the spaceport, setting a pace that others would call sprinting. The sith took positions around him, the world's most unnecessary honour guard, until he arrived at the Enosis ships.

The perimeter was being broken down, he saw, and two of the ships were already in orbit. Not a moment too soon, then. It would have been a shame if he'd missed sparring with Soft Voice, especially since he had no way of knowing when we'd see eachother again.

"My friend." Soft Voice greeted, clasping his arm. What worry still lingered over their last meeting fled, a smile forming on his face. "How is Vette?"

"Busy. In her words, 'the kids misbehaved when I left them at home, so now I'm building an army'."

Soft Voice grinned, his mood light. Talking about nothing important brought Morgan back to those fleeting moments of contentment on Korriban, stepping inside the sparring room behind his friend. He waved at the rack of weapons on the wall, including two old practise sabres. Use had worn down the handles, but otherwise they looked in perfect condition. Morgan walked to them, picking up the leftmost weapon. "Are those?"

"From Korriban. Still lying where we dropped them. Some upgrades were needed, they nearly broke when I stress tested them, but yes."

Morgan snapped his up in one of the first guards he'd learned, oh so long ago, and he could almost hear the whine of the droids. Of endless repetition, pain and fear motivating him like nothing ever had. "Ready?"

His answer came by way of an attack, his saber sending the strike sideways with almost effortless ease. He sent his friend a look, part glare and part smirk. Soft Voice picked up the pace, and soon enough he was forced to move.

An old game of theirs. See how many exchanges you could survive without moving your feet, and every one you managed counting for a point. They'd stopped after one of the enslaved acolytes had hung herself, the joy of it gone.

Lightning flashed at his face, hot and screaming and alive, and he had to jump high to avoid it. Soft Voice grinned a smile of a shark, jumping himself and slashing down. Morgan grinned back, twisting as his leg kicked out. He went flying, his other leg bent to catch himself on the wall, but Soft Voice wasn't so lucky.

The impact rattled the room, the giant devaronian standing with a bemused smile. "I don't think I've ever met someone else that could kick me around like that."

"Then you have been lacking in opponents." Morgan went on the offensive, twisting low while aiming high. The blow was absorbed, if with a grunt, and his fist lashed out. Soft Voice's knee buckled, a retaliatory backhand forcing him back. Another flash of lightning was dodged, two knives floating off the wall. Blunted, of course.

On and on it went, the knives weaving and playing more than seeking to hurt. One particularly entertaining exchange gave him the opportunity to bonk him over the head with its handle, pausing a moment to grin a smug smile. It was punished with a rather brutal, not to mention crude, wave of telekinesis, but still. Worth it.

Soft Voice stuck out his hand, Morgan pulling on it to get back to his feet. Twelve to nine in his favour. A good day. "You don't fight many enemies, do you?"

"None. I train, and spar against those gifted enough to warrant my instruction, but few jedi present a challenge. Fewer stay to fight at all, and what enemy sith I face back down when they see the number of my followers. It's infuriating." He took a breath, rolling his shoulder. Morgan put a hand on it, burning some fat to ease the pulled muscle. "Thanks."

"What are friends for?" He jumped lightly, noting the time. "And I've got to go. Maybe get a proper high-end training droid, loosen its AI. A perfect sparring partner with only the light risk of intergalactic machine domination."

A chuckle was his answer, though Soft Voice did look intrigued, and he made his way over to one of the transports. Hunter was already there, as I'd asked her to, and was busy sniffing an utterly terrified engineer. "Hunter, come."

She came, the man she'd cornered scrambling away, and entered the shuttle with me. Excitement seemed to drum in her, her awareness pushing out and out as we ascended. We entered space itself not long after, her perception stretching so far I couldn't see the end of it, and I was struck by a sudden memory.

One of just now, the entire solar system enveloped in her sight. How the two suns were slightly outside of a stable orbit, ready to shoot off in millions and millions of years. How small the planet seemed, now that she looked at it as it truly was.

Morgan walked over, stroking her head as Hunter expended the last of her energy, and wrapped her in the Force as she stumbled. She thrilled, a bargain fulfilled, and life slipped away with a quiet breath.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Alyssa fought to keep her position, Inara doing something foul with her fingers, and ultimately lost her place. Her girlfriend took over, eyes intent as her fingers flew over her datapad.

Observing two high ranked sith as they fought was an opportunity they couldn't miss, no matter the consequences if they were found, and they wouldn't waste it. Not that they would be punished by either of the men sparring, mind you. They would take it with good humour, if give them a stern warning. No, the real hell would follow if Astara found them.

Both still remember their training under the togruta, and the re-education that would surely follow. Then an idea entered her head, and she turned to Inara. "You think we could take Astara?"

"Together?" The human tilted her head, a movement cute enough she contemplated abandoning what they were doing and dragging her somewhere private. To think she once felt revulsion when she saw the species. Idiocy. "Maybe. She did train on Korriban."

"And we trained with Lord Morgan, basked in the lessons of Teacher."

"Lord Morgan." Inara parroted, smirking. "Such honorifics. Careful, Vette might take offence."

Alyssa looked over her shoulder, as if the crazy twi'lek could appear at any moment, and glared at the woman she loved. "Don't joke about that."

"About what? How you would just love to present me to him, all tied up with pretty purple silk? About the heinous things you two would do to little helpless me? Hoping, perhaps, that he would turn it around on you?"

"He might be able to hear us." She hissed, hating how she blushed. Inara caught it, smirking wider. Alyssa huffed. "Keep taking notes."

"You like power, sweetness. Don't worry, I know you don't care for him beyond that.

Another half an hour and Inara scrambled back, Alyssa following out of instinct. They just about made it to an empty closet when the door opened, their Lord striding out. He walked past without a look, both of them heaving a sigh of relief.

"Come." Lord Zethix intoned, looking right at them. His frame filled much of the door, his face hard. "Now."

They obeyed, entering the room as their boss took a seat on the floor. They joined him, a respectful distance apart, and she folded her legs under her. Inara spoke before she could. "We didn't mean any offence!"

'Idiot. Never admit to anything.'

The devaronian's eyes snapped to her, as if he could read her mind, and she employed an effort of will not to cringe back. Double checking her shields, both soul and mind, confirmed he hadn't. "Apologies, my Lord."

"Mad Mouse is an old friend of mine. Far older than the two of you. Now, he likes you. You have even, if my understanding is correct, earned a measure of his trust. Don't ever pull this sort of stunt again."

Alyssa bowed, deep enough her head nearly touched the floor, and Inara joined her. Zethix's voice lightened. "Having said that, what did you think?"

"Skilled beyond words, my Lord." Inara said, her tone in near awe. Alyssa fought to suppress a wince. He didn't want empty praise. "But your control is lacking."

She shot her a look, relaxing when the devaronian laughed. "So it is. Come, stand. We will see what you have learned under his tutelage."

The sparring that followed was perhaps the most brutal she'd been a part of, their Lord taking both of them apart with a ruthless efficiency that reminded her oddly of their other Lord. She was so tired, nearly an hour later, that she only put the pieces together when she collapsed in bed. "Oh. It's because both of them received the same training. Right."

Inara moaned, her shoulder still a mess, and Alyssa resisted the urge to flip her over. She hadn't won their game, though, neither of them had. Her girlfriend patted her head. "Told you it was a bad idea to spy on them."

Alyssa hissed. "It was your idea."

"And I told you it was a bad one." She got up, a groan of pain escaping her lips. "You don't suppose the boss would fix us up?"

"I do not suppose so, no."

"Great." Inara stood, rotating her shoulder. They were both fleshcrafters, as was most of the Enosis, but the healing Morgan displayed eclipsed both of theirs a hundredfold. The best they could do was increased natural healing, they'd be fine by morning, but that was all. "So, ready for the next step?"

They left, taking a transport from the Enosis ship to the Aurora. Being sith had its perks, such as being known to be unpredictable. Few questioned their whims, whether it was recreational or not. So when they arrived at the Aurora, no one paid them any mind. The soldiers saluted, as was proper, and what few crew walked the halls bowed, but they went about their day with no resistance.

"I'm still saying it can't be him." Inara said, sliding behind the console. Few knew she had been a well-off slicer before war had come to Balmorra again. "I mean, he's got to know if it is, right?"

Alyssa shrugged. "Didn't the Enosis teach us that no one can be the best at everything? He's a fighter, commander, healer and Force knows what else. Not having an eye for subterfuge is hardly a flaw."

"What about Vette?"

"She does have an eye for it." She admitted, watching Inara work. "But this is military grade encryption. She seems more like a scoundrel to me, a people person. Besides, this is his domain. Wouldn't surprise me if she leaves it alone, trusting him to handle it."

"Which he hasn't." Inara scowled, pulling up a file. It had been scrubbed, and expertly so, but it was so very hard to truly destroy information. "Look."

Alyssa read, her eyes narrowing even as her anger rose. "That disloyal bastard."

"Should we call Lord Morgan?"

She shook her head, Inara scrubbing any evidence of her technically treasonous breach of military security. "No. Let's see what he has to say for himself first. Where is he?"

Her girlfriend was better at finding people in the Force, though if they weren't in space it would have been impossible. Feeling people was easy, finding a specific one wasn't. "In his room."

They went, found the place unguarded, and marched inside. Captain Quinn looked up calmly, his eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

Inara locked the door, using her sith credentials so none but their Lord could enter, and the captain stood. "What is this?"

"Treason." Alyssa hissed. "Yours, specifically."

For a moment she thought he would deny it, to have some clever reply to sow doubt and confusion, but he sagged. It was the first time either of them had seen him acting as less than the perfect officer, surprise pooling in her stomach. Not enough to stop, though. "What, no denial?"

"What good would it do me?" The man straightened. "Have you told him?"

"Not yet." Inara pulled up her datapad, sending over a message. "He will learn when he gets here. You have until then to make your case."

Quinn shrugged, tapping his desk. "What case?"

"Who do you work for?"

"Darth Baras." He noted their surprise, smiling bitterly. "What? It's always sith politics."

Inara stepped forward, hand itching to her lightsaber. "Why?"

"Because he wanted to keep an eye on his apprentice? Because he's a miserable bastard, unable to trust that even his own hands wouldn't betray him? Because loyalty can cut deeper than betrayal, and I owed him too much to refuse? Assuming that was ever a choice, something which I rather doubt."

"Past tense?"

Another bitter laugh. "Oh yes. I've served in the Imperial military for a long while now. Rose fast, fell faster. Do you know what I've learned? Sith don't care. Not about the troopers that risk their lives under their command, not about civilian population centres or prisoners of war. Nothing. And moffs aren't any better, are they? Power hungry fools, too busy covering their own asses to do something worthwhile. I thought, back then, that Baras was my lifeline. My saviour. I was wrong."

"And then another came." He stood, the motion sudden enough Alyssa tensed. "Another sith, someone I now served like I was some toy to be passed around. Tasked the lives of my men, the men I've recruited and trained, with suicide missions. The kind where sith gladly throw away troopers if it means they can claim more glory, more prestige. But that didn't happen, did it? I found a sith that seemed to care, however nominally, about our lives. Who demanded we do our jobs, yes, but no more. Who healed us, gave us power of a kind we'd never even dreamed of having."

"So why not come clean?" Inara had taken her hand away from her weapon, though she looked unsympathetic. "Tell the truth?"

"Because I am still sith, and by definition that means I cannot be trusted."

Alyssa whirled, the door having opened without a single sound, and watched as their Lord strode inside. Vette was a step behind, her usual grin nowhere to be found. "So, what evidence have we found?"

Quinn had snapped to a salute, Vette growling low. It should have sounded ridiculous, a child pretending to be a wolf, but Alyssa took a small step away from her. Inara handed over her datapad, a detailed report of all their actions listed by date. Morgan clicked his tongue. "Of course. Well, I should commend you two. Initiative, skill and a keen mind. Well done."

Inara preened under the praise, Alyssa bothering to hide it under a shallow bow. Vette looked at their Lord, her face disbelieving. "You knew?"

"Since before I ever set foot on Balmorra." The man said truthfully, shrugging. "I wondered if he would come clean himself, but that seems a moot point now."

Quinn, Alyssa saw, struggled with that. He opened his mouth several times, no sound coming out, before he sighed. "Why let me think I got away with it?"

"Because you knew nothing I would mind Baras finding out, and your services were sorely needed. Better it was someone I knew, someone who struggled with it. Guilt can be hard to place, at times, but it was clear enough with you."

"You knew." Vette whispered, seemingly to herself. Morgan grimaced, looking at her. "You knew. How could you have known?"

That was a good question, actually, but Inara stiffened. Alyssa frowned as she was dragged to the floor, kneeling in perhaps the most over the top gesture of submission they performed yet. He didn't care much for them, normally. "Please, let Alyssa live. I will take my life, but let her be. You could wipe her mind, send her far away. Please."

"Jesus." Morgan scowled at them both, Alyssa's mind catching up. Knew things before they happened, always seemed strangely knowledgeable about the most obscure things. Force premonitions, accurate and strong enough Lords would war over it. "Stand, both of you."

They stood, her mind racing. They would both die, she knew that. Quinn too, and it would be a miracle if Vette left the room alive. She lowered her eyes, feeling herself calm. She had died before. When her family burned and she spent four months healing in a rotting hospital, learning she was Force sensitive. Doing so again wouldn't be too bad.

Morgan groaned. "Everybody calm down. I'm not killing anyone."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

This was almost exactly why he didn't want to tell anyone. He was pretty sure they got it wrong, probably figured he could divine what was to come instead of knowing one set, increasingly inaccurate, future. And they figured he would kill them to keep it a secret, which, to his shame, he did contemplate. Only for a split second, but all the same.

"Everybody calm down. I'm not killing anyone."

They didn't look like they believed him. Fine. They respected strength, power. He pushed out his aura, constrained to the room and feeling abnormally alive, and looked at them both. "But I will need your word that you won't talk about it. To anyone. Ever."

They swore, words meaning so very little as opposed to intent, and his aura pulsed strangely. Almost like he'd seen Tatooine's soul do, for a lack of a better description. It wove between the three of them, twisting and layering until it faded away. Inara looked awed, grabbing at Alyssa's hand, but the pureblood didn't notice. She seemed to be looking deeper, her eyes glazed over. He cleared his throat.

"I have other matters to discuss. Dismissed."

Both women bowed, seeming surprised they were about to leave, and the door closed with a hiss. Vette was scowling at Quinn, the captain looking like he believed he was about to share none of their good fortune. He was also looking pensive, when he wasn't resigned, and one hand was tapping on the desk.

Vette wasn't, standing so very still. "You can see the future."

"Yes." He cringed at her level tone, his own voice coming quicker. "And no. It's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it."

He sighed, hand reaching for hers. She didn't pull away, exactly, but neither did she grab back. He let go. "I saw a future, back when I first arrived on Korriban. One set path, events and details and war. Which isn't set in stone, and is becoming more and more unreliable as time goes on."

"The Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas, how you insisted I get the mind shield. The Revanites, that apprentice on Korriban, down in the tombs. The Balmorran resistance, the facility down on Nar Shaddaa. Goddess, me."

He opened his mouth, but she spoke over him. Her tone was breathless, not angry as much as disbelieving. "You knew me. Before we ever met, you knew me."

"Parts." He insisted. "Often wrong. How your sister is dead instead of a slave on Nar Shaddaa. How you trained with the military on Dromund Kaas."

"But you knew. What buttons to push, what to say."

"And I let you go." Morgan clamped down on the flare of anger, taking a deep breath. "Yes, I knew. I knew how much your life sucked and how badly you wanted freedom, so the second we were off that god's damned planet I set you free. Insisted, if you recall, that you go deep into wild space."

"But you kept silent!" She bit. "Even after-"

"He was right to." She whirled on Quinn, blaster in hand. He didn't even seem to notice. "You have no idea what would have happened if Darth Baras had found out. Inaccurate or not, everyone here would be killed. He would be taken, interrogated and, at best, enslaved. Torture like only the sith can provide, until every useful bit of knowledge was pulled from his mind. I did a stint with Intelligence, a long time ago. The only way to keep a secret is by not telling anyone. No one. Not a single soul."

"And he did a great job of that." She grit her teeth, Morgan knowing her thought strayed to the Ravager. His sure had. "I knew something was wrong before we even got off Dromund Kaas."

"He did. Those examples you listed were, to the last, meant to ensure safety. Both yours and his own. Not to enrich himself, or attain power. To help."

She took a seat, more collapsing in it than not, and waved at Quinn. "Why would you take someone you know to be a spy onboard?"

"Because I knew him as a hard, uncaring Imperial Officer. Competent to the extreme, yes, but loyal to Baras above all. What I found was a man who cared for his soldiers, trapped by politics and leashed by Baras. Believe it or not, I could relate."

Quinn nodded, once then twice, and set his blaster on the table. "You have been good to me. Better than I deserve, if I'm being honest. I will be selfish and ask one last favour, my Lord. Don't tell the men. It would destroy the unity they've achieved, the purpose they've found. I wrote up a list for my replacement, although the only real choice is Lieutenant Helen."

"What makes you think you're going anywhere?" Morgan huffed at the man's protest, waving it away. "I've read over the reports you sent to Baras. How you portrayed Vette as being toyed with, an entertaining pet and most certainly not a weakness. The uselessness of most of it, hinting that I don't trust you enough to tell you anything important. Just enough he didn't replace you, not enough to reveal anything of note. No, captain. You're staying right where you are. Believe me, I'm not running this trainwreck on my own."

Vette whirled on him, her face set. "So what's going to happen on Tatooine? You foresee my kidnapping?"

"No!" His face flashed, something he couldn't quite stop, and she cringed back at the anger she found there. "No. It really isn't as powerful as you think it is. I'm surprised more often than not, and even if I'm right it's rarely how I foresaw it. Useful, yes, but nothing I can take at face value."

"So what's going to happen? You know where we are going next, don't you?"

"I do. And no, I'm not telling. Baras reads even a hint of it from either of you, everyone dies. Tatooine I can do. In order, an oasis, talking with a jedi master and knight, then kill them. I'd love not to, but a direct order isn't something I can get away with disobeying."

His datapad chimed, Morgan was fully prepared to ignore it, and then he read who it was. "Fuck. I need to go. Quinn, keep going as you have. Don't deviate in the slightest on what you've been telling Baras. I'm guessing, but as long as I'm useful to him you're safe."

He left the room behind, part sad and part relieved. Talking it out was the healthier option, the best option, yet his feet continued to carry him onwards. The Aurora, still in orbit, was big enough the walk took time. Time enough to settle his emotions, and worry to start gnawing at his stomach. He pushed it away as he arrived at the engine room, only a single occupant working diligently at some console.

John Doe turned as he entered, his easy smirk slipping away as he came to a stop. "Bad timing? Good and bad. Sorry and not sorry, then."

"What do you want?" Morgan remained standing, folding his arms. His armour was barely an afterthought at this point. "I assume it's important, seeing as you're burning your cover for it."

"It is. Look for yourself."

Morgan caught the datapad, reading out loud. "Apprentice Morgan, in service to Darth Baras and suspected fleshcrafter, is to be terminated. All known traces of his influence and power are to be terminated. The Darth will be distracted. Your mission is over, Cipher Four. Time to come home."

"I assume someone else is to carry out the assassination attempt, then?"

John shrugged. "Nah. Double talk. Time to come home means I'm the assassin."

"So this is either the strangest ambush I've seen yet, or you don't want to."

"Yes. See, I will admit to not having been completely truthful in my reports home. Imperial Intelligence has internal factions, what organisation doesn't, but the one I'm ostensibly part of is growing rather bold. Messing with sith politics isn't unheard of, mind you, but so far everyone's been smart enough to leave the Darth's out of it. I might have also somewhat understated your capabilities and resources, all part of the game, but that does make my task rather difficult."

"And the reason I'm not throwing you out of an airlock?"

The agent smiled, perfectly relaxed. Morgan had to admit he had a talent for it. "Well, I had been hoping my previous gifts would soften your stance somewhat."

"Tell me why you were assigned to me."

John sighed. "Boring. Intelligence has someone on Korriban. Someone that is supposed to watch a certain holocron, one that contains knowledge the current crop of politicians would rather remain unfound. Then our man, or woman, let's not be sexist, reports it's gone. Taken with authorization from Darth Baras, no less. So there I was, enjoying a cushy assignment on Dromund Kaas, when I'm reassigned. The rest you know, though I will say they've ordered your death twice before. I managed to dissuade them then, not so much now."

"How kind of you." Even to himself he sounded emotionless. John shrugged again. "If you're not here to kill me, what do you want? I doubt I could have stopped you from slipping into the night, assuming I had known you were aboard in the first place."

"To trade." John straightened, and suddenly it felt like Morgan was looking at Cipher Four. Not some performance or cover, but the man. Hardened from decades of service, smart and resourceful enough to survive in a world of sith. "I want what your Chosen have. Permanently."

"And what would you do with strength? I know little of your job, but I doubt it relies overly on physical prowess."

"I'm not stupid, Morgan." Cipher Four said, his tone even. "And neither are you. I am old, I have lived a hard life, and I can feel every inch of my years of service. Scars tingle, broken bones ache. My body is weakening even if my mind isn't, and I hate it. Hate it like I never thought I'd be able to hate anything. Stims make the issue worse, not better, and even kolto is losing its effectiveness."

Morgan tapped his gauntlet. "And what do I get in return? It's a not insignificant risk I'm taking."

"Not as much as you might think. Unlike those fine soldiers two floors up, I know how to be subtle. No one will know that I am stronger, and even if they do they will assume cybernetics before augmentation. The paper trail for the surgeries is already established, regardless. As for what you will get out of this, well. You've made plenty of enemies. How about an ally?"

"And what if I decide you're working for Baras, trying to entrap me?"

"He doesn't need proof, you know that as well as I do." Cipher Four folded his arms, posture calm. Patient. "He has six other apprentices, each of which with their own unique talents. You are not so special to him, nor is he desperate. Letting you develop for a few years before reaping his reward is no loss to him."

Morgan grunted. "Why not go to one of them, then? Or get those cybernetics you've already paid for?"

"Because they are drunk on power, too far gone to be of any help." If the man was feeling impatient, Morgan couldn't find a trace of it. "And cybernetics, while good, can't compare. They will degrade, malfunction, and be susceptible to electromagnetic pulse attacks. Yours doesn't come with any of those drawbacks."

"Aside from being beholden to a sith."

Cipher Four raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile appearing. "You aren't so bad to have as a master. I've been watching, remember? Steadfast, decisive, rewards loyalty and knows when to set aside morality. There are much worse people in the Empire to answer to, many of them without Force powers whatsoever."

"You are well read on the Force." Morgan decided, stepping closer. Cipher Four held his ground, perfectly relaxed. Morgan pushed out his presence, the room seeming to shrink and expand, and again it beat like a strange heartbeat. "But I am less than typical. I will give you what you want, agent. Strength and vigour like you're thirty again, in the prime of your life. But understand, the Force isn't some program. Not some machine to outwit and confuse. So you will have what you want, but only for as long as you don't work against me. If you prove useful, for as you've said I possess many enemies. Your hand."

Cipher Four gave it, a smirk on his lips that felt more fake than anything Morgan had seen on the man, and the Force pushed. Whirled around and inside the man, stretching and condensing until the breath was squeezed out of his lungs. Morgan could have made it painless, or at least less so, and chose not to. To make the man feel, make him understand.

Morgan let go, Cipher Four half collapsing to the ground, and walked away. "Rest, eat. I doubt I will need you on Tatooine, so take the time to get used to your new and improved self."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Vette watched him leave, angry and confused and terrified. Quinn seemed quietly shocked, sitting in his chair and watching the ceiling. "He can see the future."

"So it appears." Quinn paused, watching her. She resisted the urge to shoot him. "To both our good fortune."

"Don't fucking try it. I'm angry at him, yes, but that doesn't mean I'll just skip over the fact you're a spy."

He sighed, shrugging. "I don't blame you. If it helps, I never lied to you. Or him, for that matter. He never asked, something which I found strange before now. Neither did you."

"Because I trusted his judgement." She stilled, scowling. "Trust his judgement. Fuck."

"Is it really such a terrible betrayal? Sufficiently skilled jedi and sith can read minds, he would have been a fool to tell you before he found a way to protect it, and after I can think of a dozen reasons not to."

"You assume I value your opinion." She fought to regain some measure of balance, tapping her blaster. "One toe out of line, captain, and I'll kill you myself."

"I believe you, I do, and I know you're the more capable combatant, but threats don't really do anything for me anymore. I've had Baras breathing down my neck for a decade, worked with angry sith and proud politicians. All of them could have killed me like snapping their fingers, or devise a life far worse than death." Quinn shrugged. "I still consider you a friend, even if you do not feel the same. He trusts you more than most, more than I thought sith were capable of."

"But not as much as I trust him. Inequality like that is the death of relationships."

"I wouldn't know. My career hasn't left me much time to date, and the few I've had didn't survive the strain of military life for long. On the matter of trust, have you told him everything? Your pirate days, where you did things he would flinch at? Of your years as a thief, feeling so righteous in your cause the lives of innocents ceased to matter?"

She flinched, tone sarcastic. "What, been spying on me?"

"Yes. You are closer to him than many, can influence his actions more than any. I wished to know what kind of person you were."

"So, what? I either forgive you or you go running to daddy?"

Quinn looked honestly surprised, folding his hands on the table. "Is that what you think of me?"

"An hour ago? No."

"That's fair." He nodded. "And in that spirit, your anger is unjust. He did not trust you enough to tell you a secret that could bring death to all he loves, using it to protect both you and those under his care. You do not trust him enough to be honest about your past, because you think he will judge you for it."

She hated, hated, people she didn't like making valid arguments. "Fuck you."

"I've been fucked for years, Vette. Stuck between duty and loyalty, blackmail and guilt. This might honestly be the best I've felt in months. I regret how it happened, wished I had the courage to admit it myself, but it is done. How about you? How do you want him to find out about your secrets?"

She stormed out, refusing to recognize it as running away. She also didn't have a destination in mind, a hundred questions going through her head. Least of all those of the future, how she didn't quite know how to ask what was going to happen. Even if he answered, which he'd been pretty clear about. And she only saw him stubborn like that about one thing, usually concerning her.

'Alright, none of this is new.' Vette resisted the urge to smother the reasonable voice, glaring at the wall four hallways from the office. 'He's had that since Korriban, since before you knew him. What's he done with it?'

Free her, protect her. Complete his missions, grow in power. 'What would I have done with it?'

Get rich, go far away. 'Like he suggested, way back when we first got off that cursed planet.'

"Fuck it." She marched away, ignoring the fact John Doe just gave her a wave, and stopped. By the time she looked back the man was gone, and she just knew he was going to be insufferable the next time they met. "Where have you gone off to?"

She found him sulking in the engine room, though it wasn't clear from his posture. A straight back and folded arms, hands relaxed and breathing even. Still, she knew him. "Morgan."

He turned, surprised, and sighed. "Vette."

And then she didn't quite know what to say. A joke slipped out before she caught herself. "You know what I'm going to say?"

"It's not that kind of power."

"No. Why didn't you tell me? Before now, I mean?"

"Honestly?" She nodded, stepping closer. He was looking into the hyperdrive, hatch open. She looked away after a second, but noticed he didn't. "Because I know what will happen when I do. It's easy not to tell, to keep it close and hold all the cards. Instinct, almost, no matter how much I try not to be like other sith."

She could understand that. Still. "But it's not just the past, is it? I know you said you won't tell, I can see your reasoning, but shit like that isn't normal."

"Nothing about me is normal. Not anymore." Morgan smiled, wishfull. "I used to be unsure, you know? I thought it was all a dream, those blissful few seconds before I woke up when I could pretend it was all a lie. Then she broke me, pain unrelenting until I cracked or hardened. After that I decided it didn't matter if I was crazy or not, only if it was good information. The offer still stands, if you're wondering."

"What?"

"You can still go. To be free, far away from the storm that's coming. You'll need to go deep, no civilization, but with the right equipment you can live almost anywhere."

She considered that, turned to him, and slapped him over the head. He was fast enough he could have stopped her, of course, but she liked to think surprise made him too slow. "Now that that stupid statement has been properly answered, I have questions."

"I'll endeavour to answer truthfully." The smile on his face paled in comparison to his eyes, the lightest hints of stress vanishing. "But don't be surprised if I can't. I don't know everything, far from it."

"How do you know what you know?"

"I remember it."

Vette scowled, considered pressing, but the sad grin on his face made her reconsider. "Fine. What's going to happen on Tatooine?"

"Already told you. An oasis where I'll meet an alternate self, someone who made different choices than me. I don't know how it will go, precisely, but it should be interesting. The deep desert is where the Jedi master is hiding, training a knight. I have little wish to kill him, but I have my orders. I have a plan in the making."

"And after?"

"More stuff. Not another desert, I can promise that, but I really don't think it's a good idea to tell anyone more. Baras is not to be underestimated, and until I get enough power to properly secure my position he could kill me like snapping his fingers."

"What kind of power?"

"Political, military and personal. The first one is boring, I'll admit, but if moffs refuse to go after me it'll make my life easier. Military because having a giant army makes everyone so much more cooperative, and personal so he can't just snap my neck himself. Or the Force equivalent, anyway."

Vette hummed. "And Quinn? You took on a known spy."

"Quinn was fucked. I like talent, he is talented. I've been keeping an eye on him, in any case."

He had? Oh, feeling emotions. She shook her head. "Anything else you've been keeping from me?"

"Nothing that isn't already resolved. I am sorry for keeping it from you, even if I still believe it to have been the right call."

She nodded, leaning over to wrap him in a hug. The armour got in the way, even if it did look good on him. "Then we're good. I'm sorry for how I reacted."

"Thank you." Something bubbled, something she couldn't quite feel but knew to be there, and she bonked her head on his chin.

"Ask permission before messing with my soul." She scolded lightly, his eyes unfocused. "What you doing, anyway?"

"Making your soul and mind defences reactive."

"Oh. What does that mean?"

He pulled back, shrugging. "Don't really know. This isn't something I've learned from a holocron or tablet. It should, if I'm feeling it right, make the connection stronger. Fitted armour over mass produced, I suppose. Not stronger, but…"

"Better all the same, alright." She poked at his torso. "You going to do that for yourself too?"

"Sure." His eyes unfocused again and she thought she felt a ripple that time. "There. Wow, that's. I don't know how to describe that. Definitely not stronger, but it should let it react on its own? Like, automated defences? Not quite. Hmmm."

"Figure it out later. I do have something to tell you too."

His full attention landed on her, something she normally would be quite happy about, but now it made her hesitant. Nervous. "About my past. Things you might not know, though if you do and already worked past them, I won't complain."

"Won't be sure until you tell me."

She nodded, swallowing. "I spent a while as a pirate, did some nasty things. But it wasn't until I found a cause, something to believe in, that I did stuff I regret. Stealing from trillion credit corporations or other criminals doesn't inspire much pity in me, not like what came after."

He listened, patience itself, and she wondered how she ever could have thought he'd betray her. "When I found a cause, taking back artefacts and idols belonging to my people, I felt vindicated. Just. So we, I, took it further. Stealing from private collections, first. They were rich anyway, right? Even if they didn't steal my people's heritage themselves, it doesn't belong to them. Then their security get's uppity, but they were shooting at us. They knew the risks that come with carrying a blaster, so it doesn't matter. Not as much as retaking my past. Then the slope got slippier, stealing from people that didn't deserve it. A mother that bought a twi'lek ritual coin for her son, unaware it ever belonged to my people. A grandfather gifting his grandson their family sword, stolen so long ago the old man's own father didn't even know where it came from. When the old man objected, swearing it had been in his family for generations, we shot him."

"Did you, personally?"

"I let it happen, so I might as well have." He didn't judge her, not that she could tell, and she didn't know if that was better or worse. "After that I distanced myself, switched to a gentler crowd. But I killed a man protecting his grandson, defending his property. Because I felt justified."

"When was this?"

She shrugged. "Six months before Cada Bliss offered the Korriban job? The cage gave me time to think, if nothing else."

He nodded, wrapping her in a hug. Only her own strength stopped her bones from protesting, but it gave the gesture weight. Presence. "Then I forgive you."

"I wasn't looking for forgiveness." She retorted. "But thank you."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Jillins grunted as he completed the set, the old school gym strangely fun to exercise in. Especially because he just managed to bench press twice his usual weight, and though he'd been going for two hours he felt as though it'd barely been one. "Still not used to it?"

Horas grunted as he picked up the weight, setting it aside and switching it out. The old man loved his strength, Jillins knew, even if he bemoaned the loss of his limbs. Not out loud, of course, but bemoaned all the same. "Like you're one to talk. You're twice as strong as any of us, even if EMP's ruin your day."

A weakness like that wasn't great, he would admit, but the older specialist was good enough to work with it. The Chosen spread around them, exercising and sparring to kill time. "Better than losing half my pay to sabacc."

"That was fun." Jillins countered. "And I got laid for it. Can you even still get laid?"

Sniggering filled the room, the specialist not batting an eye. "My horrific injury did not take my balls, no. Do you often think about my genitalia, corporal?"

"Officer on deck!"

He snapped to a salute, Horas joining him. The room quieted as their Lord entered, Jillins straightening his spine further. His voice carried an air of casual power, the kind even their captain didn't have. "As you were."

The Chosen around them returned to their business, or pretended to, as the sith came their way. Jillins kept his salute, but Horas relaxed. "Sir. Something we can help you with?"

"Specialist. Recent events have given me the ability to remedy an old problem. I can give you your limbs back, should you wish for it."

Jillins didn't miss the way the room seemed to freeze. Not even kolto could regrow limbs, no matter the rumours, and neither could their Lord. Incredible healing powers, yes, but nothing of that magnitude. Unless you considered the fact that he was, relatively speaking, fresh off Korriban. Horas nodded, his face as placid as always. "I would like that, sir."

Horas had been watching out for him since Balmorra. Jillins didn't know why, exactly, but the specialist had taken an interest in him. Not a father, or even a fun uncle, but more like a brother. The fun kind, who had no issue making fun of you even if he showed you everything you needed to know. Weapons handling, physical endurance training, you name it. If he'd struggled with anything, Horas was there to help. Seeing him lay on that bed, limbs gone and that same uncaring look on his face, had instilled a rage he'd never known he was capable of.

Then their Lord had condensed months of physical therapy into minutes, growing nerves to connect directly to the cybernetics. That had seemed like magic, back then. Since, he'd come to reevaluate his opinion on the impossible. The act had installed a deep respect in him, the likes only captain Quinn had ever managed, and that had turned to something fiercer when they'd been enhanced.

Now he followed a stoic Horas to the med-bay, briefly panicking when he remembered he should have asked for permission. The sith didn't seem to mind, however, so he breathed. Then Horas spoke, as casual as if he was talking to someone at the bar. "When did you learn to do that, sir?"

"This morning. It is an extension of fleshcrafting, feeding stem cells the required energy to rebuild lost tissue. Doing so for a limb was too complex until I received further instruction, but now I am willing to try it. Even should it fail, which I find unlikely, we can reattach your cybernetics with no issue."

He listened with half an ear, too busy trying to downplay his excitement. Horas, of course, still looked the same. Sometimes, not often, he wondered what the other man had been before he joined the army. He never talked about it, in any case. Jillins watched as his friend layed down, detaching his metal limbs.

"I'm going to numb your body. Try to keep your breathing even."

A nod and the sith went to work, seeming to do nothing at all. Yet, as the perception of time slipped away from him, the arm regrew. Not in some horrid fashion, where bone would grow and be wrapped with flesh, but more like it was revealed. Never gone but hidden behind a cloth, a cloth that was slowly being raised. One after the other it went, and Jillins shook his head as their Lord worked with quiet patience.

"There. Move around, tell me if anything feels wrong."

Horas did, going through a stretching routine as if nothing was the matter. Jillins knew better. Having his limbs returned, to be the same as the rest of them, was nothing short of a miracle. He felt his indecision melt away when the sith nodded, never seeming uncertain for a moment, and Jillins clapped his friend on the shoulder when the man left. "How does it feel?"

"Amazing." Horas smiled, brief but genuine, and grasped his arm with real fingers. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

He had doubted himself plenty, his confidence in the sith strong but uncertain. Who knew what they could really do, after all? Enough rumours floated around, from relatively benign immortality to terrifying mind control. He'd owed the sith, however, and served with enthusiasm. Now?

"Come, let's put you through your paces."

Now, as he led Horas away, it was time for action. The Chosen had lacked a proper leader for too long, and even though he felt himself supremely unworthy, indecision was unbecoming.

They would rise, properly and whole. They would grow, and train, and rue to any who would dare to stand against the sith who had made his best friend smile.

Jillins grinned as Horas stumbled, planning the ascension of the Chosen.