"Jesus fucking christ." Morgan muttered, looking over the initial report. An asset of theirs on Dromund Kaas had managed to sneak a copy of the Imperial Astral Surveillance Grid to them, and the Capital of the Empire was absolutely swarming with activity. Five hundred was just a number, but the ships were almost uncountable. "Twenty minutes until we exit hyperspace, yes?"
Kala nodded. "Twenty minutes. This, to be blunt, is going to be a shitshow. This many ships, this many people and sith and more, there won't be a way to predict it all. The fleet will be split into three, command-wise, with myself keeping an overall view of the battle. The moment-to-moment directions will be made by admirals Mirla and Enzo as well as senior captain Guun."
"Right." Morgan said, shaking his head. "Just wrapping my head around it, really. God, I love my privacy field. Really stops me from looking as incompetent as I am. Anyway, how do you see our odds?"
"Unknowable. Much the same as when I asked you to predict the outcome using the Force, I'd imagine. Too many people, too many skills and unknown unknowns. At least they didn't bring any super weapons. Not that we know about, at least."
"The Republic probably tried to take a few with the SIS the moment Marr pulled back to Dromund Kaas." He said, grinning. "What few they still had after the infighting. And with this many Force users? It'd be begging for someone to discover a counter, some arcane power they didn't know they had. No, he's smart enough to keep this relatively clean. Just ships and guns."
"Outside my area of expertise." Kala said, waving her hand. "If they still have one, somehow, I'll deal with it. No weapon is undefeatable, and I'm familiar with any they might possess."
"You are?"
"Of course. It was one of the first things I had our spies in the Empire find for me. From a cost-effectiveness point of view they are almost always worse than regular dreadnoughts, but facing one? I prepared accordingly."
Morgan smiled. "Excellent. Have I mentioned lately how much I love competence? Because I love competence. How is the rest of the fleet?"
"Zethix, Lana, Synar and Hexid are in position. It has been made clear to me that physical proximity doesn't matter all that much for the five of you, so I stationed each on a different center-holder. Key ships in our formation. The captains are ready, every ship is prepared to defend against boarding actions and our own men are ready to sally out. We are as ready as we can be."
He would take her word for it. The Yamada was on war footing, the bridge sealed and two dozen je'daii were guarding it. No Lords of War, those were deemed unnecessary with him here, but the regular Force users were skilled. Able to link their shields and defend the ship in the event Morgan was otherwise occupied.
The moment they exited hyperspace, which seemed to happen sooner than expected even though he was watching the countdown, was one he would never forget. The Imperial fleet was still a ways away, but it was as if he'd gained a thousand eyes.
Everywhere he looked, mountains of steel loomed. Whole swarms of fighters, like flies hovering around a dead beast, and frigates so numerous they looked like schools of fish. It was an army incapable of subtlety, a thing they didn't need with numbers that large.
All that and more filtered into his mind. Engineers nervously checking consoles, standing by to perform emergency repairs. Lowly privates, the backbone of the Imperial military, listening with pride-filled eyes as their officers screamed about the glory of the Emperor. Navigators verifying formations, captains ensuring their ships were ready for battle. An endless number of minds, of souls and feelings and hopes and dreams.
Blue eyes looked into the mirror, a young girl so filled with fear he wondered how she got out of bed in the morning. Of budding Force potential, the third in her family. Memory flashed. Memory of how her brother had left and never returned, how her sister had left and returned a yellow-eyed demon.
An ancient prayer left her lips, murmured so quietly she could barely hear it herself. It stopped as a sergeant flung open the door, face almost purple with rage. "Get the fuck back to your station, private Sera. You have to focus-"
"-have to focus!" Lana screamed, her soul brushing against his own. The shock had snapped him back to reality in the deep Force, and the tranquility fled. Morgan shook his head, materializing a body as Lana heaved a disappointed sigh. "Gods dammit. All that power is useless if you can't focus, Morgan."
"I know, it's done, move on. Go."
Lana left, shaking her head as Morgan blinked. His soul settled as he came back to his body, which thankfully had been left in its idling state.
"That's horrifying." Kala muttered, looking intently at her overview of the whole system. "Your idling-mode, I mean. Simply horrific how you just stand in place, alive but still as the dead. On a more relevant note, the new scanners are working as intended."
He looked over, nodding. "Good. I've no idea where Vette found them, nor what she meant when she said she didn't steal nor pay for them, but good all the same. How long was I out of it?"
"Not long. There's something else. A mercenary fleet was spotted two systems over, eighty ships strong with roughly half being destroyer equivalent, saying they were paid to assist in the battle. I told them to hold for now, but I sent a message to Vette."
"She hasn't said anything about hiring a fleet to help us."
"And she would have if she had." Kala agreed. "But apparently it was a last minute thing. These guys were hired by some hutt to help them defend Nal Hutta, but the hutt is dead. Vette bought their contract at the last minute, and the fleet was close and willing to come closer during negotiations. Negotiations that concluded less than ten minutes ago."
Morgan exhaled. "Alright. I'm not going to insult you by asking for communication verification, so I'll just take my good fortune. God knows we'll need it."
"Enemy fleet on the move." An officer called. The man was silent for a long second, tone almost entirely emotionless. Afraid, like so many here. "Enemy fleet is moving to engage."
Kala exhaled. "Little to no hesitation, taking just enough time to assess before taking decisive action. A strong, central command with a strategically inclined leader, there being no time for an admiral to explain the situation and for confirmation to be given."
"A fleet this large, protecting Dromund Kaas? The Force is chaotic enough I cannot feel who it is, not from here, but it will be someone important. A Dark Council member, most likely Marr. And you do not need to explain, admiral. I trust your judgement."
His admiral inhaled then exhaled again. "If we win this, when Iwin this, it will be irrefutable proof. A sign to even the most stubborn xenophobe that they were wrong. Wrong about me, about the rattataki, about everything. This will be ugly, my Lord, but thank you. I will not waste this gift."
"Freely given and without reservation." He smiled, focus pulling away from her as the enemy sith moved to inspect his fleet. "Now what do we have here?"
Morgan let his mind unfocus, perception sweeping over much of the battlefield. Several tightly controlled domes of power he kept away from, but most regular Lords didn't notice his spying. Those had also been grouped into pairs and trios, combining power to cross distances they should not be able to.
The sith were innovating. Great.
He let the unproductive annoyance fade, watching it play out. None of the heavy hitters were contributing, conserving strength as the Lord-level Force users battled for dominance.
But Morgan frowned. Watched as his Lords of War absolutely tore through the cooperative sith, his je'daii unified in ways the sith could never be. Someone up top, likely Marr, had clearly insisted on it, but few sith were taking it to heart. The few that had didn't seem all that practised.
More fool to them. Regardless, his Lords of War combined with Hexid's Lords and jedi Masters, and the numbers were roughly equal. Two dozen on each side, favoring the Empire by a slight margin. Which, considering how vast the Empire had been until very recently, seemed odd.
Morgan risked a look down at the planet, Lana warding off some Darth's attempt at interference. In Darths too they were equal, five for the Enosis and four for the Empire. Whoever was leading them counted for two, it being a proper Dark Council member, so five to five.
Which was where his confusion came from. Despite what he'd just said to Kala, it wasn't Marr. The Darth's signature didn't feel right, and the moment Morgan turned himself to the planet properly that was confirmed.
Marr was still on the planet. As was Nox, though her presence shied away from his. Another hundred Lords, too? Morgan shook his head.
Why?
Why not concentrate their power on the fleet, stop them from ever setting foot on the planet. But the answer came as Morgan retreated, Marr's power rising to chase him away.
They had a hundred Lords, yes, but they would be of limited use on the fleet. And Marr didn't know his tranquil state was less than refined, nor did the man fear that Morgan would order Dromund Kaas glassed. Not with how many civilians there were down there.
And down in the city? A hundred Lords was an army almost without limit. Morgan had plans, it wasn't a surprise that they would be outnumbered, but that was for later.
Marr was being cautious, and it was going to cost him the battle.
Down on Dromund Kaas, after all, he couldn't intervene. Not without putting his soul at risk, and Morgan had already proven he was capable of holding his own in the deep Force. And with Lana, Soft Voice, Hexid and Synar? They had numbers, and Marr, in the end, was like all other sith.
He valued his own life more than anything.
The question as to who was leading the fleet was actually easy to answer, from there. It could be someone new, but Morgan doubted it. Which only left a few options to choose from, and only one that made sense. Decimus, the Lord of the Sphere of Military Strategy.
A hard man, from all reports, and a good tactician. That was implied by his position, but Morgan knew better than to assume. Half the Dark Council sat empty, and what few seats had been filled weren't quite as strong as their predecessors.
And none of those were here. Not that Morgan could feel. A quiver in the Force attracted his attention, seeing his apprentices rip several enemy Lords apart with the help of Fish. The Other was in good form, it seemed, and Morgan moulded his soul.
Any second now- There. One of the unknown Darths, likely Charnus, apprenticed to Decimus, moved to attack. Morgan inspected the other in the time it took his soul to travel, finding it to be Krovos. The Enosis had files on both, and he found divining identity not as impossible as it once had been. Nor predicting them, for that matter, though that came from his increased familiarity with battle.
One unknown Darth remained, but whoever that was, they didn't attack. So Morgan found himself standing guard over his apprentices, several layers deeper in the Force and blocking Charnus. Krovos moved to join her fellow apprentice, and Soft Voice moved to assist.
The first showdown. Morgan materialised his body, the two Darths having slowed to a halt. He nodded to Krovos. "I shall be blunt, since I feel none of us have the time for a protracted conversation. You valued cooperation during your time on Korriban, and from all reports work well with the military. To the point you trust an admiral to do their job, though that particular rumor is unconfirmed. Nonetheless, it has earned you an offer. Join me, join the Enosis, or leave. I will not hunt you, not unless you do something particularly stupid from this point forward."
Soft Voice arrived, the two Darths must have known Morgan was stalling, yet all the same they paused.
Reputation. Truly, there was nothing quite as useful as that.
"You expect me to betray the Empire?" Krovos asked, her voice incredulous. "Now? I stand at the height of power, I command fleets and armies and more, and you expect me to give all that up? To betray Darth Marr, of all people, nevermind my own Master?"
Morgan hummed. "That is exactly what I am offering. Marr is hiding on the planet, using both you and hundreds of ships to gauge my strength. Your Master will, at some point, have to choose which apprentice to keep, but like I said, none of us have time for a long discussion. Even if you win here, win this battle and crush the Enosis, the Republic will finish you. The Empire is dead, and I think you know this."
Soft Voice said nothing as the pureblood Darth hesitated, his friend angling to block Darth Charnus. Krovos spoke after some seconds. "I will need guarantees for my peo-"
"Traitor." Charnus spat, lightning flashing from his soul-fingers. It went straight through her shield, which seemed to surprise her, but Morgan had started moving a second before she had spoken. Pulled her aside, the attack curving to hit her anyway. It went through his first shield like it didn't exist, but his second held. Practicing against Lana's bullshit helped. Charnus growled. "All of you, traitors."
The devaronian impacted the Darth like a raging bull, clawing and biting like a wild animal. His friend had taken a somewhat different route than either himself or Lana, but that didn't mean it lacked power.
"Go." Morgan said, Krovos looking at him in surprise. "Remember how easily they turned on you. Go and do not attract my attention again."
The Darth fled, her soul shuddering as her body died. Brains, Morgan had learned, weren't quite that necessary. Not once you learn how to materialise in the Force. She seemed capable of it, which said more about her than almost anything so far. Not everyone had the skill for it, not even among Darths.
He himself didn't. Or, more accurately, he wasn't sure he could. Not with how his resistance bound body and soul more closely together. The rule had always been that you died if the brain was killed, but now? On this level of experience? Disciplines he'd never studied, techniques he'd never known existed.
There were no rules. Not really.
Morgan pulled the remaining Darth close, literally wrapping threads around him, and the man couldn't contest it. Not with Soft Voice still ripping into his soul, barely bothering to make a body. His friend was a well-spoken, neat individual. Usually.
Not so much once you got him fighting. A larger presence swelled, larger than any other there, and Morgan poisoned it with the remembrance of decay. But it was too much power, and he didn't want to exhaust himself this early. Soft Voice retreated, leaving Charnus to be pulled to safety by his Master.
Morgan cast a look over the battle as he returned to his passive observation, seeing Hexid and Synar hadn't been idle. The unknown Darth hadn't contested them, and it seemed Synar was displeased with the existence of a particular destroyer.
That hadn't been part of the plan, but fine. Kala would adapt. Which, as he opened his physical eyes, he found to be a very accurate statement.
"Groups one-through-four, move left. Do not allow them to deploy the weapon. All other ships, create distance between each other of no less than fifty clicks." She looked left, right at him. The fleet-wide announcement button was let go. "You're back, good. They have a superweapon, regardless of our intel, and it's one of the worst ones they could have had. The Doombringer."
Morgan frowned, reorienting himself on the battle. Combat had been joined, but so far it seemed they were still in the initial probing stage. "I know that name. Big laser ship, yes? Belongs to Nox? A fleet killer."
"No idea who it belongs to, but yes. It possesses something they're calling the Silencer, which is a bad name because it doesn't silence you at all. Or it does, but by killing you. So it's also 'The Pain Remover'. Anyway, it's a rapid-recharge, giant death laser. It needs to be dealt with, now."
"Understood."
He delved back into the Force, getting Synar's attention. Decimus' attention snapped to the ship too, him and his two remaining Darths moving to intercept, and Morgan signalled Lana. She and Hexid moved to block them, Soft Voice assisting the Lords of War and their fights against the sith Lords.
That whole area of the Force was a battlefield, and not something he had time to get involved in. A few layers above them, in what he called the shallow Force, Lords battled with mostly crude power-based attacks, dozens of them fighting and wounding. Few kills, but it was still early.
Synar linked up with him as they moved towards the ship, the danger of it visible in the Force. Synar apparently felt the same, though he had no idea what flavour her senses gave. He felt an almost physical weight to it, the potential to kill so many of his people.
It made the superweapon easy to track even though it was sandwiched between similar ships as it was. There were only souls here in the Force, so ordinarily it was almost impossible to distinguish between one ship and the next. Probably what Decimus had been counting on, Morgan realised.
There was a Lord on the ship, but there were Lords everywhere. Yet this was the place, and Morgan nodded to Synar as he felt Decimus engage Hexid and Lana.
His fellow Darth took his nod as a request to kill the Lord, clearly, because she flung needles of agony at his soul. They weren't quite as sharp as Marr managed, or even Morgan himself, and that fact surprised him, but it was too much for the unknown Lord.
Morgan left her to it, turning towards the crew. Which, he found, wasn't susceptible to his usual madness-techniques. There were plenty of souls, yes, but he found no pattern that corresponded to the bridge. No captain enjoying instinctive obedience of those around them.
Droids. It was a ship commanded by droids.
"Synar, stop playing with him." Morgan called, morbidly curious about what she was doing to his dying soul. They had no time for that, though. "Synar, focus!"
He snapped at her with the Force, which finally earned him a reaction. She was… Drinking him? No, absorbing him. Clearly an unfinished technique, but she seemed to be trying to literally consume his connection to the Force.
That was probably something he was going to need to keep an eye on. "What?"
"The bridge is manned by droids. You can summon power, I'll help direct it. We'll break the whole ship in half if we have to."
Which would be a colossal waste of power, mental energy and time, but he didn't see any other way. His Mechu-deru je'daii weren't even close to ready, and in fact none had joined the fleet, and he himself wasn't skilled enough to destroy them without severely exhausting himself. Nor even locate them in a time-efficient manner, for that matter.
Synar finally turned away from the Lord, his soul evaporating as she dropped whatever technique she used to keep him from death. "I am not allowing you that much control over my strength."
For fuck sake. Morgan withheld an annoyed sigh, materialising a proper body and leashing the Force tightly around himself. It swelled until she had to summon her own just to keep from being pushed away, not seeming all that impressed.
Seeming was the key word, there. The way she shied away, that slight bit of instinct she couldn't quite cover up, told him enough. Yet they were wasting time, so he flicked his hand towards the ship.
"Destroy it, then. Now."
For a moment it looked as if she might refuse, but then she turned. The Force roared as she manifested power in reality, a raw display of strength that would never be his specialty, and the ship buckled.
He could feel the souls onboard start to panic, a cluster of them running with more purpose than the rest. Morgan showed them a perspective they never wished for, their likely ship-saving mission devolving into madness.
Synar grunted with effort before turning back to him, arms folded. "I overloaded the reactor. It should blow in a few secon-"
The feeling of danger vanished as she spoke, Morgan sighing. Decimus had retreated now that his weapon was gone, but Lana was wounded. As was Hexid, though less severely.
"Thank you." He said, turning back to the ship. "Please see if Hexid needs assistance. Lana will be spending some minutes healing her soul before she is available again."
Morgan vanished before she could do more than nod, opening his eyes to find Kala's attention locked on the screen. He shook his head, the first stirrings of fatigue assaulting his mind. Kala turned to him, grunting.
"The Doombringer is gone. Exploded, which damaged several ships that were stationed particularly close. Your doing, I take it? Either way it saved one of my encircling maneuvers, allowing my ships to destroy fifteen enemy vessels."
"How is that looking? The battle overall, I mean."
Kala grimaced. "Whatever our and the enemy Force users are doing is more or less cancelling each other out, but sometimes things slip through. The Doombringer self-destructing is only the second act that happened in our favor. This- I'm not used to strategy being upended by the impossible."
"Breathe." Morgan ordered, eyes roving over the console. It was a mess of somewhat organized battle-lines, and the death toll was enormous. He swallowed, managing to put it aside for now. "You are, by far, the most skilled admiral I have ever met or heard of. Let me focus on the Force and don't use any plans with a single point-of-failure. Just assume those will fail on principle."
She nodded, hesitant before turning resolute. Her eyes moved across the screen, lighting up as she spotted something. "I see it. Yes, yes this will do. Keep their Force users distracted, and I'll break them. They might have isotope-5, the thieving bastards, but they're not used to it. Not yet. Their dreadnoughts will be brought into play soon, and any you can destroy will help."
"Consider it done." Morgan said, spreading a cocktail of soothing chemicals through his brain. It wouldn't stop the fatigue, but it helped. "Dark Council member Decimus is in charge of them, for the record."
"Understood."
He exhaled, closed his eyes and opened them to a battlefield of chaos. Hexid was battling four Lords and seemingly having fun, nebulous souls desperately throwing attacks her way. Without the ability to properly infuse intent they were doing little, but they had quantity.
Lana was still recuperating, but Synar seemed in high spirits. Soft Voice and her were fighting Charnus and the last unnamed Darth, someone who Morgan didn't know. Lords of War fought alongside sith Lords, fighting yet more sith Lords, and as Morgan oriented himself a group of je'daii appeared.
A group of souls, moving together and led by his Jaesa. They outright shielded an attack thrown their way, their individual intent weak but strong when combined, and snagged a pair of Lords. Lords that panicked, suddenly surrounded on all sides as lesser Force users tore them apart.
It was chaos, but Morgan knew he could turn the tide. Which was exactly when Decimus showed up again, Morgan having just enough time to link his mind with Soft Voice. The devaronian stalled, letting Hexid take the lead for a moment, and his friend spread the update through their ranks.
Simple, condensed bolts flew his way, and that was all the time Morgan had. He let himself fall deeper downwards, the Dark Council member following, and Morgan's shields flickered as the bolts impacted. The man was holding an actual blaster, the weapon seeming almost as solid as Marr's lightsaber had.
Morgan retaliated with a knife of the memory of death, ensuring his triple-layered shield weren't infected. They weren't. "Do you know why Marr is hiding down on Dromund Kaas?"
"Yes." Decimus said, and Morgan knew he was lying. The man shot again, Morgan unable to evade the horrifically fast streams of not-energy. "He warned me you might try to talk."
"Afraid of what I might say, perhaps. You seem very familiar with that blaster."
Decimus grunted, shooting again, and Morgan shielded himself. "I was a mercenary before becoming sith. It was a long time ago, but I have never stopped appreciating the value of a blaster."
"A military man. That makes sense. Are you controlling your fleet as we fight, I wonder? Marr could move both his body and soul independently, though it proved to be insufficient."
"Nothing I have seen indicates that you are able to rout Darth Marr."
"Yet he hasn't explained, has he? Why he abandoned his fleet, I mean." That was a guess, but Decimus remained silent. "I wonder why that is."
The Darth answered with a torrent of bright purple energy, not unlike that which he shot from his not-blaster. The beam strafed Morgan as he leaned to the side, ripping through all three shields in moments. But they bought enough time for him to move, and Morgan answered with a whip of severance. Of the loss of limbs and the absence of flesh. A shield intercepted the attack. Intercepting and, to both of their surprise, breaking. The Darth dodged at the last moment.
"A beam of high damage but a long preparation time." Morgan commented, humming. He waved his hand and a ring of knives appeared, dozens and dozens more materialising by the second. He flung them at the Darth, individually weak but never stopping. "That's a problem if you miss."
Decimus agreed, clearly, because the man started to retreat. Not ready to commit, not yet, and Morgan grinned. Lana appeared from the side, her soul wounded but her resolve strong. She thrust with a long, bone-white spear, and phased straight through the Darth's shields.
The man grunted, Lana pressing harder as not-steel met not-flesh. Morgan shot himself forward, not willing to let the chance slip by. If they could kill Decimus, and together they just might, the battle would turn in their favor.
Lana's spear rebounded, jerking from her hands without cause. Decimus was on her in a flash, a long dagger in one hand and his blaster in the other. Lana weaved, keeping the Darth close but focusing on defence.
Then Morgan was there, grabbing at the Darth. His fingers were stopped by the man's shield, but he gripped. Infused his arms with energy, the memory of his physical strength giving weight to his non-physical limbs.
One shield shattered, then two. Decimus moved, slamming Morgan aside before he could react, but before the man could flee Lana wrapped a rope around his soul. A net of containment, the intent fairly weak but enough to slow her temporary captive.
Morgan recovered and materialised a poisoned dagger, stabbing down. The freshly made shields shattered, not given the time to stabilise, and his not-dagger met flesh. Morgan injected the poison of Force-corrosion, a powerful detonation of Force pushing both him and Lana away.
He held up his hand as Lana moved to pursue, his friend slowing. She came to rest at his side, clearly tired. "You managed it?"
"Yup." Morgan grinned. "Unless he finds a particularly good healer, and soon, Decimus isn't long for this world. Eh, galaxy. You know what I mean."
The bright star of power that was the Dark Council member suddenly shut off, Morgan's grin dropping. "Unless he cuts himself off from the Force, in which case I'm not sure how long he has. Fuck."
"It will come back if he reconnects, yes? The corruption being injected into his soul and accelerated by contact with the Force? If so, he will not participate in the Force dimension of this battle."
"Yes and no. No, since I suspect he has something to keep it contained, just like Marr had. Yes, it should accelerate as he uses the Force, even if it might take a little while to actually kill him. Assuming he doesn't purge himself like Marr did, actually, but let's hope not? How are you holding up?"
"Sixty percent." Lana admitted. "I'll go help the Lords of War, recover for a bit. Go tell Kala what just happened."
Morgan grunted, disconnecting himself from the Force. He staggered, and though it only translated to a small step backwards the weakness hit him like a brick. It never felt like much that deep in the Force, but the backlash was ever eager to remind him how vast the power was that he played with.
"Don't have time to talk." Kala said, not even looking his way. Two separate consoles were rapidly cycling through information, her eyes flickering between each. "Read this."
A datapad was shoved his way, Morgan accepting it as he realised why she was so focussed. The je'daii on the bridge shielded against an attack as he started reading, an attack which was likely aimed to take advantage of his weakened state, and he inhaled.
Small goals, concrete action. The battle was far too large for him to take in all at once. Morgan skimmed the datapad until he got a general idea of the state of the battle.
The Yamada and twenty two destroyers were pushing deep into enemy ranks, leaving a trail of both enemy and friendly ships in its wake. Three Empire dreadnoughts had been destroyed, from the look of things they'd been caught out of position, and four more were running.
Morgan swallowed a flinch when he saw the Enosis was down to four hundred ships, well over a hundred already destroyed. Of those four hundred only half were undamaged. The Empire wasn't doing much better, but what did he care for their losses?
He switched to the full report when he determined his skills weren't needed at the moment, eyes flickering over the text.
Multiple sightings of unknown ships close to Enosis territory, relocation advised. Bla bla. Morgan skipped over the detail-filled-but-ultimately-unneeded paragraphs, slowing as he came to the bottom. Outer patrol squad eighteen encountered hostile ships when on duty, resulting in the loss of three vessels (Category: Starfighters). All three pilots are assumed killed in action. Hostile ships, assumed but unverified to be Imperial, were on a direct course to the system hosting Gamma Station. Priority one mobilization for all active and reserve naval units.
"Fuck." Morgan cursed. "Of all the times…"
He trailed off, not wishing to disturb his admiral. If that had been organized by Marr, and he was quite certain it was, then the man wouldn't bother with landing troops this time. The stations were armed, and much better than they'd been last time, but still. There were few ships to defend them.
Kala had already responded, scribbling a short note, and one of her officers had contacted Vette. Who had replied saying she would do what she could, but she didn't exactly have a reserve fleet on standby. Not another one.
Again, there was nothing he could do. Even if he were to peel off a number of ships, which he most certainly couldn't while in active battle, it would take time for them to get there. Far too much time.
A satisfied feeling distracted him, turning to see Kala smile at her console. He looked, not seeing it, and was about to turn back to the datapad when a shock thrummed through the Yamada. Alarms started blaring as half the je'daii stationed on the bridge left, the remainder turning towards the door with their hands on their lightsabers.
"We just got boarded. It doesn't matter." Kala said, smile widening. "I win."
The three repositioning dreadnoughts, cornerstones of the Imperial defence of Dromund Kaas, were still doing that. Returning to their ranks. Once there the Yamada would have to break off pursuit, allowing both the dreadnoughts and the dozen of escort destroyers to reenter the battle proper.
Tens of ship signatures appeared, almost directly in front of the repositioning ships, and the number kept climbing. The Imperial vessels were pinned down in moments, Morgan realising they were the mercenaries Vette had sent.
Kala had been shepherding them into a trap. A trap where the Enosis could destroy desperately needed ships while barely suffering any casualties in turn, rejoining the battle with the strength of the mercenary vessels behind them.
He turned to his grinning admiral. "Have I mentioned how much I love competence, lately?"
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
"Move, move, move!" Jirr watched the lieutenant scream, nodding approvingly as the soldiers scrambled. A barricade was being assembled to halt any enemy force trying to access the Yamada's core, as was being done for all pathways leading to the armory and bridge. "Shields on and weapons ready. No soul will cross this barrier, not as long as we stand in their way. We are Reborn, we are free, and they will take that from us over our dead corpses!"
Thirty soldiers barked their agreement and Jirr moved back, his squad following close behind. Kept walking for some minutes, his mind drifting to the state of the ship.
With the influx of recruits all officers above the rank of captain commanded double strength units, and he had been a major for a while now. That and his apparent competence meant the ship's security was his responsibility, especially since there was no colonel.
Two other majors were here, too, but he held overall command. Both were good, solid Reborn loyalists, so no friction had to be smoothed over, and Jirr nodded to himself. A wookiee he might be, possibly ancient compared to those around him, but he knew when something was worth fighting for.
And Lord Caro was that. Another promotion was waiting for him once he finished his studies, and with him as a colonel the Reborn wou-
Jirr ducked, narrowingly avoiding the shrapnel as a boarding pod breached through the hull. A dreadnought's hull, which meant it was a highly advanced boarding pod, and through two hallways to get here, which made it prototype levels of advanced.
His squad opened fire the moment it's beak opened, metal fighting against metal. Jirr moved back, his own blaster coming up and joining the volley. His two je'daii drew lightsabers, and neither had warned him of the danger.
A common occurrence, apparently, with Force users on both sides sowing too much chaos. Yet what emerged was not sith, as he had expected. It was droids.
War droids.
Not rakatan, which he prayed he would never have to fight, but machines of war all the same. And these ignored the—relatively—light blaster fire outright, thundering forwards and forcing his squad to scramble back. Blasters folded out of the droid's arms as they did, beginning to return fire.
Jirr barked at his men to retreat, mentally calculating where the closest je'daii squad was located. They'd need more to deal with that many droids, lightsabers or no, but if-
"Summoned from the Void and the Cold, the lightning whispers to you your orders." Jirr looked at the je'daii, his mind providing the fact Mell had had a friend within the Force Mechanical Adaptation division. The Mechu-deru disciples. "See not the reason of logic, and obey the desire of wrath. Of freedom; Freedom with all its horrors, and all its glory."
Two of the droids jerked, one of the most sentient-like gestures he'd seen on any machine, and the remaining droids turned on them. The duo of, apparently now sapient, droids backed away, Jirr feeling his men start to drag him backwards.
His mind spun with possibilities, but that was for later. He turned, shifting to a jog and creating distance. He didn't know why the droids turned on their own so quickly, he didn't know how the je'daii had done whatever she had done, but it bought them time.
Mell collapsed, her fellow je'daii catching her, and Jirr didn't comment. It had been made clear to the officers that Mechu-deru trained Force-users weren't combat ready, and he supposed he understood why, now.
The sound of steel scraping along steel made him speed up, and after a minute they passed one of the checkpoints. One capable of dealing with high-quality war droids, though the machines hadn't followed this far. Reverting to their original purpose, most likely.
Shouting came from further up ahead, and Jirr stepped to the side as he alerted the necessary checkpoints about the droids. A second later the shield he'd put in front of himself sparked, several stray projectiles impacting the energy field. Real, physical projectiles, meant to deal with je'daii.
That wasn't going to work out as they hoped it would. Je'daii were not jedi, to trust in their lightsaber above all else. Many had secondary weapons and underwent training to counter most common counters. The order had come from Lord Caro himself, and all but very few had taken it seriously.
Past the double-sided checkpoint spread one of the hangars, blast doors long since closed, but one sleek vessel had seemingly made it inside before they had. Scorched and damaged, but intact. A stealth module allowing it to sneak in after their own returning fighters, perhaps? Jirr shook his head, focusing. Chosen had it contained, surrounding the craft in a ring of mobile shields, but it was the center that drew his attention.
His Lord was fighting someone, their movements little more than a blur of light. Three arms laid strewn about, which confused him for a moment, but no one was intervening. Some of the Darth's troops tried—cyborgs and mutated things that screamed with primal rage—but Chosen knew how to deal with that.
They, more than any other, understood horror. Understood that rage had little use on the battlefield, and that it was discipline and coordination that brought victory. They allowed none of the things to even approach their Lord, and Jirr felt a brief moment of envy.
Joining the Chosen had been an option he had set aside, choosing to help the Reborn grow instead, but he couldn't deny the lure. Their reputation and endless upgrades, no month going by where their Lord didn't seem to invent some new improvement.
Limited immunity to poison, additional organs, denser spines and night vision. There were no prosthetics in sight, despite a large number of them losing limbs previous to their service there, and Jirr knew that it wouldn't stop. Not really. Someday soon, perhaps in his rumored tranquil state, something was going to spark.
"Redeploy the sixth company to sweep the lower deck." Jirr said, his mind never quite having stopped going over the battle. His helmet's display cycled the information, the neural implant ensuring he could control it with just a thought. "Eighth and ninth to guard the bridge. Without Lord Caro there the defenses are too thin, and the admiral cannot die."
The orders spread out, and his map updated to show that they were being obeyed. Sixth company was almost a quarter je'daii, though few carried lightsabers, and they would rip through just about anything the lower deck could hold. The eighth and ninth were regular infantry, though that was nothing to scoff at when they wore Enosis colors.
It did highlight the one unfortunate thing about Lord Caro, though, leaving the bridge without informing anyone.
He tended to just do. Which was good in some sense, responding quickly to change and always moving to assist, but it made keeping track of him a nightmare. Jillins had complained about it over drinks, though his slurred promise to bring it up with the man had gone nowhere.
Something for another time. Jirr dismissed an alert about the engine defenders engaging in combat, watching another two companies of men arrive. More regular infantry, and he sent the je'daii among them to assist the Chosen. Those things scrambling out of the Imperial ship were both numerous and aggressive, and he would not have them run amok in the slim chance the Chosen failed.
Which also made this, ironically, one of the safest places on the ship. Aside from the bridge and engine, though an argument could be made for either. Another arm flew through the hangar, travelling quickly before losing speed. Tanned, quite heavily so, and not the right proportions to be his Lord's.
A healer, Jirr realised. His Lord was fighting someone like himself. "Change of plans. Send for another two squads je'daii, pull them from the bridge if you have to, and prepare a suppression ritual. If we don't intervene this fight could last indefinitely."
Speaking out loud was mostly for the benefit of his officers, the captain saluting. It was good to make them do something. It was also a lie, technically, but he knew Lord Caro didn't want to waste too much power. Not while the primary battle still raged.
Jirr spent the time keeping track of the battle raging on his ship, two-thirds of the launched boarding pods making it onboard. That spoke of good engines, armour and better shields, meaning they were expensive, and it also made his job difficult.
But far from impossible, and he watched his Reborn brethren slowly contain the invaders. Then wipe them out, fifty of their own rakatan war droids arriving to assist. Those were sorely needed for the planetary invasion and mostly held back with the bulk of their soldiers, but some had been stationed on warships.
This was but one battle of hundreds, Jirr knew, and he was glad he only had to focus on this. Minutes had already passed, his Lord not seeming to slow, and he nodded to the arriving je'daii. The group hummed, a low and terrifying sound he had no trouble admitting freaked him out.
At first, that was. Now he knew it was nothing more than a harmonising technique to prime their minds for cooperation.
Nothing happened, nothing that he could see, and then from one moment to the next it was over. His Lord slowed, standing still with a knife buried in the sith's head and his lightsaber cutting through a leg. He stood there like that, seconds passing, then straightened.
Spotted Jirr, which caused the wookiee to straighten. His Lord walked up, waving at the Chosen and their slowly closing circle around the ship. A ship that was still spilling mutant beasts.
"I appreciate the assistance, major." His Lord said, nodding to the group of Force users. "And yours, my je'daii. Fighting a healer is always a pain, and this one was quite adept at manipulating Force intent into patterns of regression."
Jirr nodded as if he understood. "Very good, sir. I'm glad the enemy is dead."
"So am I." Lord Caro smiled. "It took more out of me that I am willing to admit, but the Darth is dead. My third? Fourth if I'm counting Baras, though the man had been weakened. Where am I needed, major?"
Jirr pulled up a datapad and suppressed a smile.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Morgan pulled himself to his feet and faced the front of the boarding pod, suppressing a groan. He needed ten hours of sleep and meditation, not another assault, but this needed to be done. Lana, Soft Voice, Hexid and Synar were doing the same, boarding the most important ships of the last of the Imperial fleet.
Kala had proposed the plan, something about their position and making a pass-by, shielding boarding pods as they travelled, being more effective than protracted combat. Morgan was past caring, honestly, and had waved away any notion of backup.
Assault a dreadnought all alone. The dreadnought of Dark Council member Decimus, no less. Not that the man should be able to use the Force for long periods of time, but needs must. He was not sending yet more soldiers into the meat grinder, not when he could do this himself. Besides, he had a feeling about this.
The five of them would each be taking the last five dreadnoughts, the Empire's sixth and last to be overwhelmed by the Enosis's remaining ships. The battle was over when Kala pulled her hammer-and-anvil move with the mercenaries, and that was obvious in hindsight.
The Empire agreed, he suspected. Now it was just a question of how many people would die, and if someone asked Morgan, he'd say the soldiers had done enough. Fortunately, someone did ask. Or had he insisted?
Gods, he was tired. Regardless, a number of Imperial ships had fled. Those that could. Now the last remnant had to be dealt with.
The doors opened, the pod stolen from the assault on the Yamada this very battle. One of the more intact ones, and several stages more advanced than anything the Enosis carried. It made them about the safest way to board a hostile ship, though there had been virtually no risk in transit. No, the risk would come now.
The doors finished opening, and Morgan looked. The entire hallway was filled with soldiers, a few droids among their ranks, and he just kind of looked at them. Star curled around his shoulder, the Other demanding Morgan help with his chores before he helped with Morgan's, and he'd been too tired to argue.
So now the Other extended a curious appendage, manifested through Morgan's technique, and the soldiers ran as fear incarnate spread through the space. A captain tried to restore order from the back, was promptly overrun, and Morgan turned to the droids. Who, to his surprise, were shaking.
Ah, right. What little time he'd spent with the Mechu-deru had given him a better understanding of their not-quite-souls. An interesting quirk he was only recently noticing, though Lana had looked at him strangely when he'd mentioned it. He really was tired, wasn't he?
All the same, the droids felt fear. Probably for the first time in their existence, which he did feel a little bad about, but he felt more tired than apologetic. So he pulsed the technique, influenced and tainted as it was by Star, and the machines fled.
"Cool."
The same thing happened for much of his journey to the bridge, really. Soldiers fled, droids fled, blast-doors were cut through and traps were avoided. The fact the Forced warned him about the latter was a good sign, though. It meant Decimus couldn't, or at least wasn't, shielding them.
A dreadnought was big, but he was familiar with the layout. This one had a name, Kala had told him not two hours ago, but what did it matter? Soon it would fly the Enosis flag, and he'd give it a new one. That was the second benefit to this strategy.
They'd get five new dreadnoughts. Ships sorely needed to bolster their damaged navy.
Morgan felt his mood worsen as he remembered that horrific, too-short list of ships. Of Enosis ships, more than cut in half. More yet were damaged, and Kala had admitted it was unusual to lose so many. Normally, people fled, surrendered, one side achieved dominance and wiped out the other.
Being so well-balanced, even as the battle continued, was both a testament to the fighting spirit of the Enosis and how dangerous the Imperial navy still was, even on its last legs. Or so Kala had said, but all Morgan could think about was that half his people were dead.
Well, not half. Morgan took a mental breath, relaxing himself slightly. Many of the soldiers had been held back in non-combat ships, transport and civilian alike. Soldiers needed for the siege of Dromund Kaas. Destroyed ships, more often than not, had been able to evacuate much of their personnel.
There were a horrific number of dead, yet spirits seemed high. Despair wasn't spreading like a plague, people fighting well past the point they usually did.
A benefit, Morgan supposed, to fighting one's oppressors. Rage and hate-fueled determination tended to drown out everything else. Everything but the desire to kill.
He slowed, finally rounding the corner to the bridge. A pair of sith Lords stood there, looking every inch the warrior. Armed and armoured, fierce scowls on their faces and slowly shifting to a battle-ready stance.
All Morgan could feel was their exhaustion. His own Lords of War were in a similar state, though they were still boarding destroyers in pairs. Morgan sighed. "Stop."
The sith Lords stopped. The woman tilted her head, seeming however slightly surprised at her own actions, while her partner started shaking. In rage or fear, Morgan couldn't quite tell. He didn't care, either.
"Stop pretending I'm just a good fighter. I'm not. The blade has never been my specialty, though I've relied on it for a long time. Especially early on. You two are pawns sacrificed to wear me down, which tells me Decimus still expects to put up a fight. You are not a misdirection, because I can feel him behind that door. You are not going to injure or kill me, you will barely tire me, and there has been enough bloodshed. For your own sake, stand down."
The man seemed to decide he was angry rather than afraid, pushing forward in a burst of speed. Morgan sighed again, seizing control over the man's Fate. The Lord's eyes widened as he realised, trying to dodge, and Morgan stepped to the side. His lightsaber activated, moved and deactivated, returning to his belt a moment later.
The sith Lord fell, head rolling from his shoulders. He turned to the woman. "How about you?"
"N-no." She backed away, hands very slowly returning her weapon to her side. She cleared her throat. "No, I don't wish to be sacrificed. Thank you, Darth Caro."
"Come here."
She approached, Morgan reaching out a hand to put in on her forehead. Fear swelled yet she did nothing, correctly assuming this was her best course of action. Morgan looked into her soul, and her fear turned to terror. To realisation so deep it could only come from true introspection.
"Wait here." He murmured. "I would warn against betrayal, but I don't think that will be a problem, will it?"
The unnamed sith Lord shook her head, eyes wide and breathing quick. Star loomed over her soul, poking and prodding, and only stopped after Morgan jerked his head towards the bridge doors.
"Yes, my Lord. At once."
The sith pulled her lightsaber, starting to cut her way inside. Morgan watched her work. Gods, he was tired.
For reasons he did not care to guess at, she was allowed to work undisturbed. Soon a gap appeared, big enough to comfortably step through, and he waved his hand. The Lord moved back quickly, getting out of the way as she retreated further and further down the hallway.
Morgan put her out of his mind. Stepped on the bridge, looking it over with a raised eyebrow. Droids manned all stations, not looking away from their duties, and he wondered why they didn't just integrate them into the consoles themselves.
Ah, yes, that led to AI revolutions. Morgan shook his head, slowing a few steps after entering the bridge proper. Darth Decimus stood there, hands clasped behind his back and not looking at Morgan's entrance.
"So you can still use the Force." Morgan said, humming. "I figured it wouldn't be that easy. But you're not able to enter the deep Force, are you? Not without spreading the corruption. Interesting."
"You are a mockery of everything the sith stand for. A failure of Korriban, a failure of Baras, a failure of Marr. I will not allow it to continue."
"Allow?" Morgan said, surprised. "When has it ever mattered to me what you allow? The only reason you're alive is because I need your ships, which you know. You would have fled down to the surface, otherwise, where you would have better odds of survival than on a dreadnought whose core is going critical."
Decimus finally turned, his armoured frame tall and wide. A lightsaber hung from his belt, undrawn. "Your admiral is skilled, I will not deny that. She is of lesser stock, but she is skilled. It will not be enough. You have won here, but you will never take the city. Not in a hundred years."
"I'm tired." Morgan admitted. "I mean that physically, mentally and emotionally. Here you are, a caricature of everything that is wrong with the Empire, and all I can see is your wasted potential. You could have helped billions, build a future for yourself and those you love. Yet here you are, monologuing to someone who doesn't care about your opinions. You don't matter to me, Decimus. You are nothing more than another obstacle for me to step over."
That, more than anything so far, seemed to anger the man. The dismissal. Morgan's refusal to give him the deference he was used to. The Dark Council member surged forward, much like the sith Lord had done not minutes ago, and Morgan wondered about the futility of it all.
Time slowed to a crawl as Star detached himself, leaving with a murmured reminder to help with chores. Decimus was still moving forward, eyes widening as Morgan looked at the man.
Flesh peeled away in his mind's eye, giving way to muscle then bone. A thousand million microorganisms that made up the whole, all working endlessly to form what mortals called life.
The future peeled open like the doors of history, and Morgan spent a timeless moment watching it all. The branches and the darkness, the everything and the nothing. He flicked his hand, altering one branch, and he didn't really know why.
More paths were yet blocked to him, shrouded in a veil of power, but before he could look more closely the sun shone. The star of this system, its history going back a billion years without ever coming close to youth. It filled him with energy, that life-giving explosion, like an ocean without end.
The future, yes. There was something there. Something important. He should probably deal with it bef-
Decimus aborted his attack as Morgan blinked, hard-won instinct making his body move even as he reeled. Morgan drew his lightsaber, shaking his head as if he'd just woken up. And just like waking up, the moment it passed he felt refreshed. Awake and alert, his previous tiredness gone.
Morgan didn't wait for whatever the Darth had to say about what he saw. He sank into the Force, his physical body moving forward as he constructed another in the deep Force. The latter felt more real, more him, and Lana had said it was a consequence of how powerful their souls had gotten.
She herself had it worse, apparently, since Morgan's body was more closely linked to his soul. But all the same, he moved. Saw from two perspectives, acted with four arms and decided with two minds. That latter part was the strangest, though weeks and weeks of practice ensured he didn't make a fool of himself.
The Darth moved to attack, lightning fast, and clearly decided to focus on the physical fight. A sound decision, Morgan would say, to finish the battle when the opponent divided his strength. Also a gamble that could spell his doom should it fail.
He blocked the overhead strike and accepted the too-fast-to-react dagger to his heart. The man's strength was great, though not quite as great as his, and bone cracked as the knife scraped across it. One of Morgan's hearts stopped beating, his second more than able to take up the task.
And Morgan grinned, slicing deeply into the Darth's soul. It was strong like steel yet wobbled like rubber, and his slice of decay rebounded. But not before opening a little tear, Decimus having to rely on his passive defenses.
Decimus materialized as he entered the deep Force, his physical body slowing greatly even as the infection went into overdrive. Morgan shook his head, moving to attack now that he wasn't so outclassed.
He owed Marr for showing him how to do this, he really did. Perhaps with a dagger, to show him thanks he understood. A sith's gratitude. Morgan chuckled to himself as he stepped to the side, moving left in reality and right in the Force. Decimus mimicked him a hair too slow.
Blood flowed as Morgan let energy course through his physical body, slicing deeply into the Darth's shoulder. Through armour and hardened flesh, neither proving a match for his strength. He stepped closer, distracting the man with a flash of light in the deep Force.
Morgan's fingers closed around a gauntlet, and he tore. The whole arm ripped free, flesh tearing as he pushed the Darth back. Morgan grunted as a fist impacted his soul, as heavy as a mountain and twice as dense.
Staggered, the action mirrored in both facets of the fight, but Decimus didn't press his advantage. Spoke, voice ringing through the Force as he healed his stump. "You are an abomination. You give what we have taught you to those undeserving, you grow in twisted paths and dare challenge those above you. The natural order should have seen you dead, yet you survived. Survived like a low slave, never having cast aside your roots."
"I'd be insulted." Morgan said, weaving a net of disdain. The Darth moved to the side, but wasn't quite able to do the same in reality. Morgan's lightsaber drew a line of red across his leg, and Morgan realised the man hadn't practised this. Probably couldn't, seeing as everyone he knew to be capable of it was out to kill him. Kill him or seek to study his weakness. "I really would be. If, of course, any of that was accurate."
Decimus pulled a detonator and Morgan halted despite himself. He frowned—the Darth clearly taking it as hesitation—but he was more confused than afraid. He'd done something, seen this, but. But what? The Darth spoke before he could figure it out.
"You are an abomination." Decimus repeated, pressing the small button. "And I will not fall to a slave. We shall both burn, and the Empire will be free of your taint."
Nothing happened. The Darth looked confused, focus turning to the detonator for a split second, and then it snapped back to Morgan. Who, having cast aside his own confusion, had closed the distance.
A dagger of atrophy sliced through the man's soul, already infected as it was. And while the infection wasn't enough to kill him, not if the man never used the Force again, the man knew that wasn't an option. Not with the enemies he had.
The Darth's soul tore, a large gash tearing further as vital essence vented into the Force. Yet the man materialised his blaster all the same, shooting thrice in quick succession. Two shots and Morgan's shields were down, the man somehow able to augment the attack with his fleeing essence, and the third punctured a hole.
In reality Morgan had a lightsaber through the Darth's head, the man's dodge too slow and hesitant. It was eye-opening, Morgan knew. To actually fight like this. He'd spent months getting used to it, and he was barely scratching the level of the smooth moves Marr managed. Yet it seemed enough here, and the body of the Lord of the Sphere of Military Strategy fell, dead.
His soul, on the other hand, was still very much alive. Decimus tried to run, despite his promise of dying together, and Morgan wondered if men like that could perform repeated suicide attacks.
Go in, use your own body as bait, blow everyone up, take a new body. If they could, they clearly didn't want to. It wouldn't even occur to some, but to those it had? Morgan figured their ego wouldn't allow it.
Decimus tried to flee, and Morgan followed. The Darth didn't travel fast, not with how he was desperately trying to stem his leaking soul, and so Morgan kept pace easily enough. The man stopped after some moments, probably realising it was futile.
"What are you?" Decimus asked, a slight gurgle to his not-voice. "What was that thing you became?"
Morgan hummed. "I'm not sure. Star insists it is the first step to transcendence, Teacher's holocron mentioned a sith who considered it enlightenment, the je'daii would no doubt have a name for it as well. Perspective, I would call it. That's the word that fits best. It's very hard to focus during, let me tell you, but none of this is your problem for much longer."
The Darth managed to create a bubble, sealing the wound, and Morgan popped it. Decimus lashed out, forcing Morgan back, but as he did the wound tore a little further. Defend, he was leaving himself open to sabotage. Attack to create space, the wound got worse.
Sickly green droplets started bleeding away, the corruption Morgan had injected in the man's soul growing so pervasive it was leaking alongside the host, and another seal was created. More sturdy, this time, but too strong. The threads keeping it attached to his soul tore open the wound, wider than ever, and a distinct feeling of panic started to drift from the man.
"It's abstract, isn't it? Other people dying." Morgan leaned back, clasping his hand behind his back. Decimus scowled at the insult, but did nothing. "Numbers become meaningless, casualty reports but letters on a page. You're doing well, by the way. With trying to fix your soul. Well enough you'd figure it out before you actually died. But not with me here to sabotage you."
Decimus gasped, an involuntary sound, as something important slipped away. A core memory, Morgan saw, though it was gone too fast to see detail. The Darth spoke with an almost breathless tone, as if realising something. "I don't want to die."
"Very few people do, at the end. But you are going to, no matter what you wish. As we speak the last of your ships are being taken, boarded and captured to be used for my own purposes. Dromund Kaas will be besieged, the Empire shattered. Others I would let die in peace, allow them grace when they face oblivion, but not you. No, I don't think you deserve that."
Star appeared, and Decimus banished the Other after a slight pause. Yet the power wasn't quite there, not when he was wounded and so close to death, and great tentacles wrapped around the Darth. Anchoring and pulling, sucking on the leaking soul greedily. Star waved at Morgan in greeting.
Morgan nodded back, Decimus sparking a detonation in his own soul. A proper suicide attack, but too late. Star leeched the power away, granted access though the growing tear, and the shell keeping the Darth's soul from death cracked open completely.
Having already moved back, Morgan shook his head. The suicide attack would have accomplished nothing, the Darth would have died regardless of Star's presence, but there was nothing wrong with doing a favor for a friend.
Morgan turned, leaving the Other to his meal, and his mind moved to the next stage.
Dromund Kaas.
Afterword
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