Value Loyalty Above All Else [Star Wars]

Morgan looked over the room as the Yamada ran its patrol, one of the few ships they had gotten fully combat ready. Emphasis had been put on it, Soft Voice wishing to ensure his newest and shiniest toy was ready to fight.

The man had phrased it as ensuring the safety and security of Enosis space, but Morgan could only shake his head. The devarionan had barely left the thing, let alone allowed another to use it.

But now was not the time to rightfully mock the man for it, the atmosphere far too serious. Something he was fine with, seeing as every single high-ranked officer in the Enosis was gathered in one room.

Soft Voice and his second, Mirla, occupying one end of the table. Astara was with them, representing the military intelligence department, while the Reborn where represented by their colonel Elarius. Jirr, the wookiee taking up almost as much space as Soft Voice did, stood behind the man.

On his own side both Kala and Quinn had taken seats, Jillins standing behind his former squad-leader. More officers filled the spots in between, but they mostly kept quiet. The split represented the divide between the Enosis and his own faction quite clearly, which Mirla had probably done on purpose when setting up the arranged seating.

It was also the reason they were here.

"Alright." Soft Voice began, tapping the table. What few conversations were being held stopped, everyone turning to the devaronian. "This meeting was called because, as has become increasingly necessary, a shift in structure is needed. Especially so for our high-command. We will be going over the broader details first before delving into specifics."

The man indicated Morgan, face serious even as his eyes grinned. "Now that our absentee founder has returned, and isn't planning to leave, he possesses the highest authority you will care about. Having said that, I myself will lead the actual day-to-day operations of the Enosis. If our orders contradict, use your best judgement until you can ask for clarification."

Jirr and Elarius nodded seriously, Quinn and Kala were somewhat more stoic, and what Morgan somewhat guiltily referred to as background faces nodded curtly. He really didn't have the time to get to know every officer in the Enosis, especially with how quickly the organisation was growing.

Jillins actually rolled his eyes, which he found amusing, but Soft Voice moved on before anyone could comment on it. "Our next point has been discussed by both Lord Caro and myself, and concerns the position of admiral. It may come as no surprise that Captain Kala Tre has more than earned the position, both for her exemplary service before and during the Battle of Belsavis. Admiral."

Kala stood, face so blank her emotions were almost easier to see because of it, and accepted the pin. A new uniform was awaiting her, too, but having her change here and now was deemed inappropriate.

"Very good, admiral. A full ceremony has been scheduled at a later time, and will see you officially sworn into office." Soft Voice bowed his head to her, the three captains in the room saluting, and the devarinian moved on. "Following that trend, our general. Malavai Quinn has, similar to our new admiral, more than earned the rank. As admiral Kala holds command over all vessels, you are to hold command over all military forces. This would include all sith with a military rank, attached to military units or otherwise not under the direct command of me, Lord Caro or Mirla. Again, a full ceremony has been scheduled at a later date."

Quinn stood, accepting the pin with a nod.

Soft Voice indicated Mirla, the woman not seeming all that bothered by having most of her duties stripped. "My second-in-command will assist as needed, having trained in and being experienced with both fields. Of course, all three of you are expected to find, train and prepare your staff. Redundancy is key. To be cold about it, I don't want any chaos should you die."

No one argued the point, especially after the recent battle. Kala's soul did shift, even if her face remained emotionless, but it settled quickly.

"It has already been decided that I shall assume command over the Yamada, serving as the flagship of our fleet. Since it is unwise to put all of our high command there, both Lord Caro and admiral Kala will remain on the Aurora. The ship, while objectively less powerful than a dreadnought, will serve them well. General Quinn will rotate as needed."

"Next, military intelligence." Soft Voice nodded to Astara, the togruta smiling sharply. "Quinn's department will be folded under your command, as your duties will also include that of internal investigation. Lord Caro's apprentice, Jaesa Willsaam, will work closely with you and yours. She is not, however, under your command."

The devarian indicated both Jillins and Ellarius. "The Chosen and Reborn will fold under the existing structures, though since their formation is unofficial no changes will be made. You will end up serving under Lord Caro directly, I suspect, but time will tell."

Morgan snapped his focus to the clock as time passed, seeing he had lost several minutes. Not the worst lapse, and as he concentrated he remembered what was talked about, but it grated. Annoyed him it wasn't an issue he could simply fix, for messing with his own brain was a step even he hesitated at.

There would be no do-overs if he messed up. At best he would emerge with a vastly changed personality, especially now that his soul was so close to his body. Or was it further away? Morgan shook his head, focus fraying, and forced it back to the meeting.

Yet he found himself more concerned with not losing time than actually paying attention. Fortunately, the important parts were done. Now it was just detail wrangling and opinion gathering, all of which Soft Voice could deal with.

It was after, when most people had left to start their new assignments, that he stood. Made his way over to their first and only general, Quinn discussing some last few words with captain Ikkus before turning his way.

The man nodded, waiting for Morgan to speak, and he did so after examining the man's soul. How large parts of it had steadied, some of his earlier drive settling into acceptance. It made him feel more grounded, more steadfast.

"General." Morgan said, cursing himself for letting the seconds slip. "A just promotion. We haven't spoken much lately, have we? Work seems to have consumed my time."

Quinn smiled, shrugging. "It means I did my job right. The army is there to support you, and that support is best given without consuming your attention. I hope to do just as well with my new post. I would say I am surprised and humbled, but you dislike lies. I was the only real choice, though I am thankful for your trust."

"Confidence is good as long as it doesn't become arrogance." Morgan agreed. "And you were indeed the only real choice. I hope my display on Belsavis hasn't made you reconsider your allegiance?"

The man's smile turned into a grin. "Working for a Dread Master? They were before my time, so I suppose it would be my only opportunity. But I have known you longer than most, even if I can't claim to have met you on Korriban. You did what was necessary, did what you thought was right, and you committed. My resolve is as strong as it has ever been."

"Well, you'll need it." Morgan replied. "Not only is it going to be a mess, one that you'll be expected to straighten out, but we're planning an expansion. More on that later, but know that you might outgrow the rank sooner rather than later."

Quinn shook his head. "Rank matters less than you'd think. People need to know who they answer to, who they can look to in a panic, and what position those people hold is often irrelevant. The Empire holds a standard of twenty to forty thousand soldiers under a general, the lower threshold something we've already passed, but if it goes beyond? I'll promote more colonels, nestle ranks between myself and them if needed, and go from there."

"You're the expert. High rank does come with privilege, though I've no idea what your vice actually is. Should any part of it be aided by biology, however, I would be happy to help. In fact, let's get you the ultimate Chosen package. Don't worry, I'm not calling them that. I'd like to go even further, make you properly tough, but without the Force to serve as fuel there's limits to how much the body can take."

"Toughness over physical might." The general responded, not hesitating for a moment. "I have very little use for my enhanced strength, as fun as it is to play around with. My power comes from authority over others, from my mind, and becoming harder to injure would serve that purpose better."

Morgan held out a hand, an offer, and Quinn took it after a moment. Didn't flinch as his biological makeup was rewritten without pause, Morgan finding it almost annoyingly easy. Regrowing an eye had been twice as hard, but he would be kind and admit he'd grown.

Quinn leaned on the table as strength was taken, Morgan whisking away the several weeks of physical therapy and weakness that would normally follow, and tilted his head. Stiffened the spine, added a bone neck-brace that would lock should it turn too fast, and fueled the skull to become stronger.

Toughened tissue around organs, increased lung efficiency to the point of ten minute oxygen retention, then enhanced the man's general healing factor by four. Took his time and double checked the work, supplying the bones with enough fuel to grow.

"That's about the limit." He said, letting go of Quinn's hand. The man swayed, taking a seat as his legs cramped. "The weakness will pass quickly. No more super strength, or enhanced reflexes, but you should survive a grenade even if you jumped on it without armour. Don't test that. Limited Force resistance, too. Everything will settle in a day or so when the bone finishes growing."

The general waved away a concerned aide, the woman clearly torn between supporting her superior and being terrified of offending a sith Lord, and rose to his feet with only minor shaking. "This feels strange."

"That'll pass too."

"Four minutes?" Quinn muttered. "No more than five, at most. Five minutes to achieve something the most cutting-edge gene therapy couldn't do in a year. Was it even hard?"

Morgan shook his head side to side. "Meh. Had to ensure everything was working right."

"Meh indeed. Thank you, Lord. I won't disappoint."

"I know." Morgan replied. "Now go eat. I'll send over someone to go over your new diet, since you'll need a different balance than you're used to. Less protein without the super-strength, for example. They'll figure it out in detail."

He left the man to it, ambeling towards Soft Voice. The devaronian disengaged his conversation with both Mirla and Astara before he arrived, disappearing as his datapad rang, but his friend wasn't the target. Both of the women turned towards him as he got closer, Astara bowing as Mirla nodded.

"Astara." He greeted, nodding towards the togruta. "Mirla. It's been a while."

Mirla hummed. "So it has. Responsibility, as ever, consumes time like little else. I trust the Enosis is performing to your satisfaction?"

"As it always has." Morgan replied, smiling at her blandly. "This merger should only increase its effectiveness. I hope there aren't any hard feelings about my people taking such a central role?"

The Enosis second-in-command shook her head, mask firmly in place. Morgan looked at her soul instead, ignoring her defences as if they didn't exist, and found her mostly honest. "None. A relief, in truth, as the scale was growing beyond my ability to handle. With a proper general and admiral to take over my duties I am free to further implement change and refinement. Aside from that, while Quinn and Kala might not be trained by us, many of their officers will be. But, as I hope this merger will see to, such distinctions will fade soon."

"Perhaps this lessening in responsibility will free up some time to train." Morgan suggested mildly. Astara stiffened slightly, less in posture and more in the Force, but said nothing. "While I often leave Soft Voice to the management of the Enosis, I do remember a time where I trained you. Refined your skillset."

Astara answered in Mirla's stead, tone humorous even as fear spread through her. "Am I deemed lacking as well, Lord? My job does not involve much fighting, this is true. Yet is that not the purpose of the Enosis? To let people specialise without having to endure the needless cruelty of sith? To ensure non-combat talent has its place, safe to practise their craft away from the brutes and savages?"

"So it is." Morgan allowed, looking at her properly. Her soul shied back. "Yet some measure of combat prowess must be retained. I will not demand that you slaughter Lords, either of you, but being unable to resist one is a security-threat. I am not implying I find your skills insufficient, simply curious about where they stand."

Mirla bowed her head. "I'll set something up. Excuse me?"

The woman left, leaving him with the togruta. Who, surprisingly, relaxed. Morgan chuckled to himself, believing her fear to be because of him. How his ego had grown.

"Does she scare you, Astara?" He asked. "Honestly curious. You are free not to answer, though in truth that would be an answer in itself."

Astara shook her head. "There are exactly two people who can talk to her like that, and Lord Zethix is much less direct. She has been overworked, adapting an obey-me-or-else attitude because of it. It is good for her, I think, to be reminded that she is not the only one working towards a better future for the Enosis. That not all responsibility lies with her."

The togruta bowed and joined her superior, leaving him to digest the conversation. He'd honestly meant it as an open invitation, not a command, but as he looked back none of that intent leaked through. Morgan sighed, resisting the urge to grit his teeth.

At least it wasn't another time loss.

His time to contemplate came to an abrupt halt as Lana joined the room, seeming none too pleased. He nodded to her, raising an eyebrow as she came to a stop. "I'm not going to scold you for being late, but this was an important meeting."

"I didn't get the invitation." She said, doing a great job at not seeming rushed. "Not until four minutes ago. Damn messenger couldn't find me, apparently, and I've been thoroughly assured it was no one's fault. Which, of course, fixed everything."

Morgan shrugged. "The downside of a big ship. It was planned well over six days ago, and I've spoken to you twice since then. Even mentioned the meeting, I think, not to mention the fact that your datapad should have received an invitation too."

Lana waved her hand dismissively. "I thought you were talking about a regular boring one, and I left my datapad somewhere and now I can't find it. Nevertheless, I am here. Too late, it would seem, but here all the same. Catch me up?"

"Me in charge, Soft Voice also in charge." Morgan recapped, a smile forming. "Quinn general, Kala admiral. Folded our powerbases. If you had one I'm sure we would have fit it in too."

She glared, making him grin, and he explained in more detail. Still left out some of the more boring details, if she was that interested she could read the transcript, but it did help him internalise what he'd 'heard' during his loss of time.

Afterwards, as the room emptied further still, she hesitated. It was interesting, seeing her soul, but in truth she was exactly as she presented herself. "Do you remember when we talked about me learning fleshcrafting?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Morgan replied, indicating the seats. It made the last captain leave, the door closing behind the man. "And I am still willing, assuming you are."

"I am. Have been studying on my own time, too, since the interruption of your schedule. While I wouldn't even call myself a novice, I was wondering if we could try something."

He tilted his head. "You watching as I run through the basic exercises, using your superior understanding of the Force to shortcut months of work? The thought had crossed my mind."

Lana gave him a strange look, which he smiled at, and shook her head. "Yes, well. Advanced regeneration, as well as a further increase in strength, seemed worth the price of asking. Shall I assume you agree?"

"Of course. Your strength is mine, just as mine is yours. I'll teach you all I can, though don't be offended when you prove to be the limit. It has been made clear to me I have the habit of underestimating my aptitude for the art."

"I'm a little offended." She admitted. "Shall we begin? I have internalised lessons one through nine, ending with the ability to manually control my heartbeat."

Morgan nodded, closing his eyes as he ran through those exercises himself. Nothing difficult, in fact separating them at all was not what he'd learned himself, and he felt Lana's attention approach as he did.

"Fleshcrafting." He said, doing the exercise again but slower. "Is about control. The finer your ability to manipulate strands of Force, the more you can do with it. Push the limits of the body, stabilise biology and correct automated processes."

His heart rates slowed, going from a steady sixty per minute to as low as six. "This could be considered hibernation, though the fact I have two hearts does muddle the waters. A great tool for when you are cut-off from supplies, sacrificing mobility and consciousness for a greatly slowed metabolism. The fact we use the Force means we can keep our faculties for days, though sleep does help the process."

"This." Morgan brought both organs back to normal, putting his attention on blood instead. "Is the next step. I'm sure the official material has broken it down in steps, but manual control over one's blood is beneficial for a number of reasons. Not so much in a fight, it does need a great amount of concentration, but for the fact it allows you to promote general health. Follow me, from the heart then outwards, and try to concentrate on one stream at a time."

Lana did, copying the exercise, and he smiled as she grasped it quickly. Very quickly. Expanded her control outwards until it suffused her body, though it was on the slow side. "Like this?"

"Exactly like that. I'll give you some exercises for finer control, focussed especially on speed, but it seems you're a natural. Let's do it again, but faster."

She settled as he gave some minor corrections, mostly letting her make and learn from her own mistakes, and felt himself calm as something in his soul relaxed.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"Breath." He repeated, pulling Star away from the girl. "Go. Relax and pick this up again next time."

The vurk bowed her head, standing with shaking hands as she left the room. Morgan turned his attention back towards the rest of the class, twenty eight students locked in concentration. "It is not a weakness to take breaks. There will be no punishment for failure, you will not be expelled for taking longer than normal. Prepare yourselves."

Star stretched out his presence as Morgan pushed and pulled, guiding it across the room. In truth, most of the students could barely feel him. Ironic, in a way, that Others became more dangerous the deeper your Force-connection was. Those without it could walk through them without feeling a thing, though that was only their passive form.

He was not having Star be passive. Gave it form through his own power, letting it descend to reality much closer than it normally could. Let the sith hopefuls feel what the deeper mysteries of the Force actually were.

A hard lesson, perhaps, but this class was voluntary. The third time he'd given it, at that, and attendance had gone from over a hundred to less than thirty. Only those having passed both mental defence courses could even attend, many not being able to take the strain even then. Thirty was already looking good.

Those that endured, though, benefited greatly. Already some moved a seat closer still, immersing themselves in what could be considered a lesser artificial nexus point, and deepening their connection to the Force. Were granted perspective, if not raw power, and bounded along their studies with increased speed.

Some moved back, the class arranged such that you could choose your own seat. Those with the most will, the most drive, sat closest. Those without sat further back, though at this point the entire room was sufficed with Star's presence.

"They are not inherently malicious." Morgan lectured, speaking after another few minutes had passed. "But, as with any sentient creature, have their own personalities. Extreme care must be taken when approaching, though a close bond sees much of the danger removed. However, they remain Other. They remain curious, even if they mean no harm, and are very much able to drive you insane. By accident or otherwise."

One of the Kaleesh raised his hand, bowing deeply when Morgan nodded to the man. One of twenty to join the Enosis, their tribe being devastated after challenging another for resources. Warlike and honorable, as was their culture, and their group in particular boasted four Force users. Survival of the fittest, he supposed, and the Force made them fit indeed.

"My Lord." The Kaleesh spoke. "Is it possible to harness their power? To wield them as one might wield a lightsaber?"

Star reached out a curious sniff, turning away when he felt nothing interesting, and Morgan answered when the hardened warrior stopped shaking. "In a manner of speaking. They can flavor one's power with terror, though in truth that is just what the mortal mind interprets. Directly using the power as you'd do your own is something else, and not something I'd recommend trying. They are of the Force, unlike us, and wield a much greater command over it because of that. Insult them, injure them, and they might react unpredictably."

The warrior nodded, moving a few seats back. His brothers joined him, moving together even now.

A twi'lek moved up, joining two others in the first row. Those already there said nothing, deep in meditation as they grew accustomed to the greatest pressure. Not the most Morgan could call on, not by a long shot, but impressive all the same.

The woman bowed her head to him, one of the many coming from Ryloth. Vette had no real idea on how to train Force users, though had apparently started some programs, so most went to the Enosis. Made up nearly thirty percent of their Force-sensitive recruits, which was more a result of them being the only ones with recruiting privileges.

Not technically true, but the few jedi on the planet had gotten a polite note not to intervene. Then a much less polite squad of newly trained mandalorians when they ignored her warning.

Nonetheless, the Enosis boasted hundreds of twi'lek recruits. More coming in by the week, though quality varied. Many simply didn't have the drive for fighting, the will for extensive Force training, but none were turned away. Even a moderately trained sith was useful as security or healer, emotional sense a boon no matter the level of fighting proficiency.

And there was always the few who the willpower, the drive, and joined his class. Hell, it counted as training for himself, if not particularly intense. It let him and Star cooperate, interact so that his soul and mind could get used to the Other. A distinction that was growing increasingly blurry, soul and mind, though not something that he was going to experiment with just yet.

Another half hour passed and the class ended, only one more student dropping out. An older man, having lived a hard life, and a competent fighter. Would make for a good squad-leader, what with his even temper and life experience, which Morgan made a note of.

The three front-row students hesitated, making him beckon them closer, and he spent some time answering questions. Questions he gave vague and non-specific advice to, since discovering it themselves would give them more than he ever could.

Then they left too, Morgan looking at the workstation reserved for the demonstration of fleshcrafting. Big enough for a human to lie on and then some, now empty save for his lightsaber.

"Sergeant."

The door opened, the Chosen and his men walking inside. One of the newer recruits, a duros with less faith and more resolve. Which, as the man was exposed to more and more of him, was changing. Morgan swallowed an annoyed sigh, waving his hand. "Secure the room. This is going to be somewhat experimental, so send a message to Lana and Soft Voice."

The soldier saluted, pivoting, and Morgan looked down at the table again. His lightsaber, the very same one he'd gotten from that old tomb on Korriban. The first time he'd met one of the older things lurking in the galaxy, giving him advice that seemed so trivial at the time.

Of course he wasn't going to spread around the fact he was different. That he'd achieved balance, though that interpretation had proven woefully insufficient as time passed. But this lightsaber had been with him through it all, even if he held no great personal connection to it.

It was a tool, even if it was favored. And as Ekkage had shown, it was necessary. Important to carry with you, lest you find yourself without the ability to defend. So now was the time to see if he could repeat his oldest trick and copy her technique, which would necessitate shaving off a piece of his soul.

Not something he had wanted to do while it was still reeling from diving with Star, but time had healed it. Calmed it. Now he was going to mess with it again, even if he had no real idea how.

Well, that was a lie. He had many ideas on how. Knowing which ones were safe, on the other hand, was the whole point of this. To experiment. Ekkage had probably done so on slaves, which was admittedly safer, but his had advantages beyond the moral.

Feeling your own soul was always easier, no matter the skill. It was yours in a way nothing else quite could be, and you knew it even the first you saw it. Not that many people ever had the privilege, but that was beyond the point.

His experiments, while slower and more dangerous, were of higher quality. Now, he didn't actually know how Ekkage had learned the skill, but if it had happened as he imagined, she probably hadn't employed careful note taking and risk analysis.

A dungeon with screaming slaves seemed more her style, though he was being slightly unfair at that point. Still, he felt confident that his method was superior.

The first method, the safest and slowest, was the one Vette used. To care for something so much a small part of you was imbued in it, forming a connection even those without the Force could feel. Vaguely, and written off as merely being fond of it, but feel all the same.

Unfortunately, he didn't really care about his lightsaber. Not beyond the services it offered, and if it were to be destroyed he'd get another one and move on. Maybe create one out of beskar, and the fact he was contemplating that just proved how unattached he was.

Next method, creating a tear. Syphon off some parts of the soul and, somehow, urge it into the weapon. Now, losing parts of your soul was bad. But neither was it made of porcelain, where one crack would shatter the whole. Grief, regret and self-hatred created plenty of leaks, none of which people died of.

Lose enough, however, and bad things start to happen. The mind deteriorates, the body grows sick and your mood drains. You'll get tired in a way sleep won't fix, hungry for something you can't ever consume.

There were ways to heal that, which he'd been almost disgusted to find out involved happiness and spending time with those you love, but at least made any potential mistakes non-catastrophic.

So he pressed, every so carefully, and pinched the membrane of his soul. Grabbed it as the barrier struggled, flickering between resistance and acceptance. It was him, after all, but neither was it used to being messed with. Fueled, sure, and even damaged, but not manipulated.

It tore as he persisted, and started leaking outwards. Morgan cursed, spending a futile moment trying to grasp it with his will, and patched the damage when nothing happened. Examined the already thin barrier between his soul and the Force, warping as his mind pressed expectation on it.

A ball, shining brightly with light. Then a fog, mirroring his body. An actual mirror, then a pool of water. A crow with eyes as red as blood, feathers dropping like shards of memory. A tapestry, burning at the center as more wool grew outwards. Himself, looking back with idle curiosity as his hand rea-

Morgan stepped back forcefully, shaking his head.

Calmed, emptying his mind as his soul returned to nothing. To energy, the closest non-idea he could have. Shapeless and formless, to be as it was without interference.

Spent some time meditating, going over what he'd done wrong, and concluded that creating then sealing the tear was the way to go. Chase after the piece of soul afterwards, which should stay coherent for at least some seconds.

Creating a shell of Force around it, to serve as a container, should work. He practised making one, time slipping by as the process became smoother and faster, and he tried again.

Pinched his soul until it tore, the membrane shuddering dangerously. Morgan ignored that for now, sealing the breach, and scooped up his freed soul-stuff. He'd have to find a better word for that in his after-action log.

And, to his surprise, it worked. Took continued concentration to keep it sealed, but it worked. He smiled, pleased, and pushed it towards the lightsaber. This part, at least, shouldn't be so hard.

It was.

Where the moon-pendant gifted to him by Vette seemed to all but cling to her soul, his lightsaber proved uninterested. Refused to accept it no matter how he pushed the two together, the sixth try resulting in his construct destabilising.

Which made him lose the soul-shard, a flicker of annoyance expressing itself in the Force. Only a small ripple, all in all, but he prided himself in not losing control. Another thing he should meditate on.

Morgan turned as the door opened, finding the sergeant back. He raised an eyebrow, the soldier stepping inside properly, and knew by the souls pulsing behind the man the rest of the squad was listening. "Yes?"

"Sir. I am not sure how to phrase this, sir, but I felt compelled to ensure nothing had gone wrong. Apologies, sir. Is there anything I can do to assist you?"

"Not unless you want your soul operated on." Morgan replied, tone dry. His sarcasm apparently went unheard as yet another soldier entered the room, the man all but skipping forward. "That was sarcasm, trooper. You won't survive the procedure if you're not a Force user, not even for training purposes."

The man wilted, actually making him feel bad, and the sergeant glared at the soldier. "Back outside, now. You do not interrupt a sith Lord without cause, nor try to draw the attention of one without being invited to do so. Apologies, sir. Won't happen again.

"No harm done. Back to it, I suppose. Thank you. That'll be all."

The man saluted, but before he could leave entirely the other soldier came back. All but barged in the room, dragging another one with him, and the new soldier looked more bewildered than scared. Then awestruck, which Morgan admitted might be his least favorite look on someone.

"You're going to be running laps until you puke." The sergeant said, tone dropping dangerously. "If I ever let you stop at all, that is. One word and I'll have you written up for insubordination."

The first soldier nodded, pushing his friend forward. "Sir yes sir. Hennis is a Force user, sir. Passed all four introductory classes with a perfect score."

"While that is something worthy of celebration." Morgan replied, faintly amused at how annoyed the sergeant was getting. "He isn't strong enough. No offence to you, Hennis, but the slightest mistake would vent your soul into the Force like a hull-puncture. I appreciate the enthusiasm and initiative, but do remind yourself of the chain of command. Sergeant?"

The duros nodded curtly, shepherding his squad out the door again. Morgan let his enhanced hearing fade as the poor private was berated, turning back to the table. Perhaps the practice of drawing a portion of the soul from its shell would be first, so there was no loss. It would cut down on any deterioration, though even then he would need to let it lie soon.

No need to inflict permanent damage on himself in the name of progress.

He was so absorbed in his work he didn't pay attention to his passive detection, which in hindsight was somewhat worrying, so as the door opened yet again he turned to it with a mild glare. What good was having guards to guarantee privacy if they kept interrupting themselves?

Lana was there instead, raising an eyebrow at his expression. "Experiments going well, then?"

"Not overly." He replied, turning back to the workbench. She joined him, looking at the lightsaber and deciding it wasn't all that interesting. "Doesn't help that I can only practise so much before needing to give my soul a rest."

She shrugged. "So the very enthusiastic Chosen said. You sure know how to pick them, I'll give you that."

"I don't." Morgan grunted. "They just kinda seem to conglomerate around me."

"As long as it isn't your fault."

He glared at her. "Did you come here with an actual reason or just to poke fun at my incompetence?"

"You're not the only one who can see souls." Lana replied. "And I see that you're at least halfway there. After seeing the technique performed once, I might add, and then not even this part. Brilliance insisting it's stupid can be rather insulting."

Rolling his eyes, and putting aside any hope of actually completing the project, Morgan waved his hand. "I'm far from brilliant, if that's what you're implying. And this isn't looking like it's worth the time. Always having a lightsaber ready in case of capture or ambush is useful, sure, but only in a redundancy way. Worst part is that I can feel myself making progress, but I can't practise enough to figure it out."

Morgan turned back to the table, thoughts turning away from the conversation and more towards potential ways to experiment, and looked back when something was dropped on the table.

Lana shook her head. "You're either hinting at it rather bluntly or being especially oblivious, and knowing you it's the latter. You need practice, practise on me. Figure I owe you for the fleshcrafting training anyway."

"This isn't exactly saving me some time." He protested. "Or even guaranteed to work. Dangerous, but I'll assume you at least understand that much."

"Saving time is exactly what I would be doing, you said so yourself. And I'm no stranger to danger, believe it or not. Try not to damage my soul."

Morgan narrowed his eyes. "You have something you believe will let you negate potential injury should I mess up, playing it off as a show of confidence. If I didn't know better, miss Beniko, I'd think you're trying to manipulate me."

"You're inconsistent, you know that?" She replied, soul flexing in surprise. "Oblivious then sharp, socially awkward then insightful. I can promise, however, I'll only manipulate for our benefit. Trust is what you're always going on about, is it not?"

He kept silent for a few seconds, looking at her, and inclined his head. "So it is. It won't be as informative as doing it on myself, but thank you."

Lana actually gasped as he gripped her soul, which was somewhat satisfying after her attempted social manoeuvring, but calmed quickly. He put her out of his mind, trying not to examine the very essence of her too deeply, and pinched.

Again, this part came easily enough. Practice had refined the technique, even if he lacked the two-sided feedback he'd gotten used to. The orb caught her soul streaming outwards, a much smaller puncture being created rather than a messy tear, and he turned to her lightsaber.

Pressed her soul against the weapon, which had the same result as before, but kept it there. Overlapping both until they blurred, though that was only the theory. He honestly didn't expect it to work, which was good because it didn't.

He had more ideas.

Carved rudimentary grooves into the piece of soul, trying to shape it, and promptly destabilised it. Took another after Lana gave the go-ahead, looking a little unsteady, and examined both soul and lightsaber. Set them side to side, one physical and one not.

A link. Not trying to merge them, but connect. It wasn't how his moon-pendant was made, but it was becoming clear artificial methods needed different processes. Punctured another tiny hole in the orb container her soul, pressing down with his will.

Forced the thin stream to funnel downwards, which was much easier now that it wasn't attached to the whole. It was also curious, splitting out thousands of little threads to feel its way around. Behavior he hadn't seen before.

He filed that away for later, guiding the threads closer to the lightsaber. It ignored metal and composite materials, the energy cell and casing, and approached the kyber crystal instead. Attached itself to the small bit of resonance between it and the amplifier. Which, now that it all but led him there, he realised had a microscopic soul-imprint of its own.

The threads wrapped around the crystal, tugging harder at the orb containing the rest of it, and Morgan widened the puncture. Watched it stream into the weapon in a way he hadn't been able to guide, fading to the background as it settled.

"I'll take it something has succeeded?" Lana asked, drawing him back to reality. "The thread vanished to my senses, but you don't seem upset."

"No, it worked. Hold this. Does it feel different?"

She grabbed the weapon, turning it over in her hand before shrugging. Activated it, a small frown appearing. "Maybe? Could be my own expectation."

"Could be. Only one way to find out, no? I'll summon and banish my pendant, see if you can get a feel for it."

Morgan banished the wood normally pressed against his chest, string vanishing along with it. A different string than the one Vette had given him, at that, though he hadn't wanted to experiment too thoroughly. Another second passed and he called it back, appearing in his hand.

Over and over, trying to slow the process down as much as he could. It did help him familiarise himself with the technique, which was useful, but after a dozen repeats Lana held up her hand.

Closed her eyes and concentrated, the lightsaber in her hand vanishing. Another few seconds passed and it reappeared, falling to the ground.

He grinned. "Takes some practice to have it appear where you want. I'll call Soft Voice. He's going to be insufferable if we don't let him in on this."

The devaronian arrived at record speeds, which was more than enough of an excuse for Morgan to mock him, and Lana turned away from them as the man made his excuses. Practised her new skill, slowly refining both speed and accuracy.

But there was a wall, Morgan already knew that, and it would never be fast enough for a proper fight. Another reason the skill wasn't a particularly great increase in power, even if it proved useful.

"I'm going to take your soul." Morgan intoned seriously, Soft Voice rolling his eyes. "Then I'm going to bind it to your lightsaber and delight in the screams of your anguish."

"Get to work, soul-boy."

Morgan grinned as the hulking devaronian stiffened, soul punctured, and worked a tad slower than he could have. Partly as a precaution, because the man's soul was rather displeased at being manipulated, and partly as punishment.

Still, now that he'd done it once failure was unacceptable. So he led the orb containing the soul-shard to the lightsaber, attached it to the crystal, and nearly lost control as Star chose that exact moment to talk to him.

Offered helpful, if utterly overwhelming, advice. How to bind the object so nothing and no one could take it away, fused to one's will. Infuse the metal with soul to create a substance twice as tough as beskar, useful for when you wanted to transport it past Gat- Guar-.

Only with the greatest effort of concentration did he maintain control over the working, resisting the urge to snap at the Other. Flinch at the pain of a partially understood name- Title. Flinch at the partially understood title.

Finished forging the bond, coming back to reality as blood dripped from his face. Lana was creating waves in the Force that pushed Star back, who seemed mightily insulted at being dismissed after just having offered help, and Morgan waved her down. Raised a placating hand as the Other came closer, sending the intent of patience.

"You alright?" Soft Voice asked, offering him a piece of cloth. "Cause your eyes are bleeding. At least they're not turning black, I guess."

Morgan groaned. "I'm fine. Took me off-guard. He's not hostile, Lana, just excited. Apparently manipulating souls like that is a rite of passage for- Children? I must be interpreting that wrong, cause they don't procreate."

"If you insist." She replied, folding her arms. "You realise we can't actually see anything it does, right? All we feel is a sense of danger accompanied by waves of pressure, something I have spent not an inconsiderate amount of time developing a counter for. A technique that needs work, it would seem."

"He was trying to help." Morgan repeated, fixing his eyes. "And he's getting better at learning what us squishy mortals can endure. It's only when he gets excited that anything bad happens, and his lapses are growing more infrequent."

Soft Voice rumbled, not seeming all that pleased either. "Used to you, perhaps. If there's anything you're good at, anything that you have based your power upon, it is the ability to tolerate damage. Your class has yielded positive results, but don't get our new recruits killed by overestimating their defences."

"Something I will keep in mind." Morgan assured, waving as the Other left. Star perked up, sending back an apology combined with a greeting to the angry-blocking-contained ones. "Well, you two have your toys. Time to make mine."

The devaronian barked out a laugh. "Hah, no. This is already generously stretching the definition of taking it easy, and you won't ever fully recover if you keep pushing yourself too far. Rest, you can make it in a few days time."

"You dare deny me what you've already received?" Morgan demanded, having to admit the man had a point. "Discourteous, is what you are. See if I'll make you anything after this slight."

Lana shook her head, already leaving, and Soft Voice grinned. "You know I'm right, so no complaining. Besides, you won't need it for the next few days. Anything comes that means to harm you, there's a fleet more than happy to blow it up. If something comes they can't handle, that trick isn't going to make any difference."

"Say it's my fleet and you're forgiven."

"I'll say that I allow you to believe that."

Morgan waved the devaronian away dismissively, stepping outside of the chamber. Found the squad of Chosen still there, privates saluting as their sergeant nodded. His good mood dimmed as the duros shifted further towards faith, but pushed past it.

He only had to write up his findings and methods before he could try out the monitored meditation modules, his fix for getting too close to the Other, and he was looking forward to it.. Still, paperwork first.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Morgan turned the holocron over again, contemplating whether he should open it. Logic dictated yes, since it could hold knowledge he might find useful, but some part of him wished for it to collect dust on a shelf. Or in a locked vault, more realistically.

Next to Teacher's holocron, a great many hours having been spent internalizing his old Master's knowledge. Combining it with the foundational insight bargained for with the Mother Machine, pushing his skill with fleshcrafting ever higher.

Two holocrons, both containing secrets people would kill for. Much more so in the former's case, admittedly, but he was pretty confident some fringe cult existed around the presence of those who should not be. Those who found themselves in this universe through methods they did not understand.

If they existed, Morgan didn't care about them. And the beauty of his rising power was that no one could really force him to, either. Not without risking his displeasure, something people were starting to avoid with greater and greater care.

Another twist, another moment of uncertainty. Let it lie, focus on the here and now, or delve into the mystery? Risk distraction for a reward that might not even exist?

His mind turned briefly to the soldiers. The crewmen and workers and engineers. All those who'd come here largely due to his will, even if it had been arranged by another. Men and women from a hundred species, united in the wish for a better life.

Would they chase idle dreams? Curiosities and distractions, good for nothing but personal satisfaction?

No. They did the work that needed doing, be that for selfish reasons or a grand dream of peace. To feed their families or build themselves a better life. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of them, more coming every week. From ecumenopolises like Nar Shaddaa and Coruscant to farming worlds so poor they didn't have official names.

All to build something better for themselves, trusting those in charge to do right by them. But he was one of those in charge now, and the greatest benefit of personal power was that he was beholden to no one.

Also the greatest risk, as the Empire had more than shown, but at least he had no supporters to appease. Brides to give out and treasury to manage. His power alone kept thousands honest, unwilling to risk corruption and greed for the penalty it carried.

So no. This holocron was an idle curiosity, one that he might revisit on a day he had nothing more pressing to do, but that would not come soon.

He put it aside, making a note to have someone store it properly later. Settled back down in the meditation chamber, a new addition to the training rooms. Essentially just a small closet, just wide enough he could touch either wall if he stretched. Soundproof and with some storage options, featureless walls and a semi-soft floor. What was here didn't matter, after all.

He attached the nodes keeping an eye on his body, measuring everything from heart rate to starvation levels. He was going to be here a while, so it was necessary. Not mandatory, perhaps, but then it was the first time a proper test of the chamber was conducted.

It was, he had agreed, the best way to regain full strength. There had technically been a meeting involved with some of the most learned Enosis healers, both Force users and not, but in the end he was the sole expert.

Still, some good came out of it. Someone would be measuring his vitals to ensure his body remained stable, even if they had very strict orders not to wake him, and the cocktail of nutrients and vitamins he'd drunk would keep his body stable for the next few weeks.

Only if he went into artificial hibernation, but that was easy enough. A skill he'd had for a long while, ever since passing the beginner fleshcrafting stage, but there hadn't been much use for it until now. Until training with Lana, and the seed of this plan had been planted.

Morgan shook his head, resolving to never phrase something like that around Vette or in general again, and started lowering his heartbeat.

Lower and lower until his thoughts slowed, letting himself fall backwards into the Force. Sinking deeper and deeper, though being careful about it this time. Ensuring the cloud that was his presence remained tightly controlled, buffeting his soul from the vast nothing beyond.

A nothing that gradually filled with things, one of which swam over. Extended a tendril of greeting, Morgan sending one back in turn. The Other turned and left, curiosity sated, and Star arrived moments after it had vanished.

Moments where Morgan watched, transfixed, as a sun died. Collapsed and went supernova, somewhere so far away it wouldn't affect the galaxy in the slightest. Watched as the organism burrowed within cried out with loss, the emotion rippling through the Force. Carrying the afterimage that he was looking at, so strong time buckled under the weight.

Star interposed himself between it and him, displeased at not being greeted, and Morgan shook his head. Felt how sluggish the motion was, turning his thoughts away from the event. Greeted Star with a handshake-signal, one of the ways they'd been practising communications.

The Other was also bored, apparently, because after declaring his intention of finding a no-danger-rest-recoup spot, Star joined him. Followed him as he tried his best to traverse this strange dimension, even all his practice not making him feel at home.

Star did pull him back from a few mistakes, one of which was treading past warnings Morgan couldn't see and the second from getting dragged into a move-space-pain-quick. A black-hole, Morgan was pretty sure. But after that it was smooth going, arriving at a nexus point.

Specifically, the nexus point on Tython.

He could feel a whole host of jedi somewhere above him, but hiding wasn't so much an action as a consequence. The Force flowed and collected here like few places did, feeling both stronger and calmer than Korriban or Tatooine, and he breathed. Let it cycle through his presence, his mind, and found he liked the feel of it.

Star shrugged and curled around the vergence, growing until it was able to envelop every inch of it, and settled down. Rested, though Morgan could feel how disappointed the Other was. To them this might be normal, he supposed. Uninteresting.

Not to him. To him it was wonder, a feeling that had been slowly fading as he grew more and more used to the Force. Started accepting it as a part of his life instead as something special. Something magical.

So he breathed, feeling his presence swell and ebb as the Force flowed. Ignored the few jedi Masters investigating the small tremor it must have caused, Star shuddering as he avoided their detection. Vibrated so everything within the nexus appeared normal, creating camouflage in a way Morgan didn't want to think about.

Because he wasn't here to learn or acclimatise to Star. He was here to heal. To rest his soul, his mind, and be at peace. Truly, utterly, at peace.

In and out. Inhaling the Force and exhaling it, the calmth of it dragging him further and further into serenity. Latent guilt from the Battle of Belsavis was smoothed away, the killing of an innocent soldier and the fear of losing his mind. All of it washed clean, leaving him with no other desire but to keep cycling the Force.

More attention came, an organised effort to examine the nexus point, and Morgan ignored them. Let Star hide them, swatting the insistent probe. The jedi Master, who Morgan was fairly sure sat on the Jedi High Council, reeled.

How did he know that? He contemplated the question as Star amused himself with the man's efforts, his strength eclipsing that of the jedi by an order of magnitude. Applied strength, to be fair, but it didn't matter. Not when the jedi gave up, Star growing annoyed and counter-attacking, or the fact he knew the man without ever meeting him.

Irrelevant, all of it. His soul relaxed for perhaps the first time in his life, stilling as he drifted. Let the ebb and flow of the nexus lull him to peace, fixing damage without Morgan's notice.

Star left some time later, Morgan waving idly as the Other claimed to have actual responsibility, and slipped back into the endless cycle of breathing. Watched approaching jedi with mild interest, tightly controlled focus piercing the vergence, and shrugged. Let himself slip underneath the waves of Force, observing them from below.

Stayed there as the team of investigators found nothing whatsoever, though if he had any actual bad intentions they probably would have found him. Hell, if he wanted to talk to them they probably would have found him. But he wanted nothing, so his presence blended into the Force so perfectly they passed him right by.

A content sigh left him as he got back to existing in the nexus, so very calm. Patient in a way not even meditation on Tatooine had brought him, guided though it had been. With no one to distract him and nothing to keep track of, Morgan smiled.

Smiled a true smile as he stretched out his presence, feeling the Force all but leap to obey. Basked in the feeling of being whole, only now realising how tired he had been. How wounded his soul had become, nearly unravelling in the name of progress.

He didn't resist the urge to stay a little while longer, inspecting the currents and flows of the Force, and lost himself in its beauty. The mesmerizing swirls and unending depth, almost seeming to wrap around him like a blanket.

But then he shook his head, promising himself he would be back, and left. Travelled back to his physical body, refining his method of movement. Of feeling which route was safest, which one would see him swept up and away, then step past them.

Arrived and stretched, inspecting both Soft Voice and Lana as they went about their day, and only then got back in his body. Stretched physically as he sent the Force through it in torrents, whisking away any weakness or complaint before it could manifest.

Pressed the button near the door, remaining seated as he enjoyed the after-effects of tranquility. It opened to reveal an older woman, one of the fleshcrafting healers with actual previous medical experience, who bowed her head somewhat awkwardly.

"Lord. You have been meditating thirteen days, four hours and twenty eight minutes. Body vitals are steady at ten percent of normal levels, already climbing. Recommended calorie intake and water consumption is as follows."

He accepted the chart, picking up the drink attached to the wall. Drank and enjoyed water, tasting it so thoroughly it was almost overwhelming, and cleared his throat. "Thank you. Any anomalies?"

"None that the equipment could detect, my Lord." She reported, eyes flickering to her datapad. "All systems green. The monitored meditation module seems to be a success."

Morgan smiled at her, seeing her soul go through about seven emotions before settling on low-grade awe. For the first time in a while it didn't bother him. "Very good. Send the report to Mirla and inform whoever needs to know I'm awake. I'm going to run through the pre-arranged tests now, but it seems to have worked."

Another bow and she was gone, leaving him to his exercises, and he touched the wall. Dragged his finger over bare metal and felt every groove of it, seeming to almost hum with nearly undetectable energy. Finished the exercise, probing and lightly stress-testing his soul, before being informed Vette was out-of-system. Nodded to that, faintly disappointed but happy she was doing her own thing. It meant she had mostly stopped worrying.

He made his way out of the tiny room and stretched his legs, mostly for his own mental benefit, and nodded to himself. There was work to do, things to catch up on, but he felt good. Ready.

Whole.

Afterword

Discord (two chapters ahead for the low, low price of your soul) [Check author profile or pinned comment on the chapter.]