Morgo's Bane, Part One

Posted on Sun Jan 6th, 2013 @ 12:45am by Thane & Morgo Le'Shaad

1,977 words; about a 10 minute read

Chapter: Chapter III: Relics
Location: Medbay, Red Raptor
Timeline: 1800 Hours, Day Seven

With the ship set on its course towards Tython, embedded within the Deep Core of the galaxy and situated just north of the Galactic Centre, and given the nature of this area of space - so densely populated by numerous stars and spatial phenomena - they would have a few days of journeying before arriving at the the so-called "Birthplace of the Jedi". Given the tumultuous time leading up to this point for those on board, that was not necessarily a bad thing.

Stepping through the doors of the medbay, Thane was impressed but unsurprised at the drastic shift in appearance since his last time there. The floors and surfaces had been extensively cleaned, cabinets restocked, machines tended to, as well as a few pieces of advanced equipment Thane had not seen in there before, nor understood how to operate. Seeing Morgo carefully and confidently move about the medbay only assured him of the decision he had made at the Galaxies Opera House.

"You've done very well, Miss Le'Shaad," he said firmly, more of a statement of fact than a compliment as he stepped in, pleased to see the bacta tank was now also in full working order. With the clenching of his fist, he could picture imaginary burns on his hand where Axion's lightning had tore into the flesh at Grogga's Palace. A tank would be far more efficient than bacta patches if any more serious wounds were to be inflicted on any of the crew.

Morgo looked over her shoulder at Thane, “Apparently, not well enough.” She said simply, as she opened a drawer below the counter and pulled out a pair of shoe covers, handing them to the Thane, “If you would kindly put these over your feet, yes? A protocol I can’t quite kick, I’m afraid.” She admitted, her own feet covered as well, keeping the floors as sterile as possible and making a note to post a sign above the medbay door.

Once she had forgotten and had run into her father’s laboratory as a child, eager to check on her bacteria colonies, birthed just the night before. Her father, Duke Scholar of Dromache, had caught her and her uncovered sandals and…well, let’s just say Morgo never forgot to cover her feet ever again.

Thane took the pair of covers and examined them for a moment before slipping them quickly on, respecting her wishes. "I hope you have some larger sizes," he said. "I don't think these would quite fit over Bomoor's sizeable feet... and you should probably get some for Bería's hands," he added, almost as an afterthought as he stepped further into the medbay, still impressed by the radical change in the few hours Morgo had had access to the area.

Morgo smiled, despite herself, “Ah yes, Berry. The innocent fool.” Morgo looked at the wall behind Thane thoughtfully, “She sees much more than she lets on, you know.”

"She is a... very unique individual," Thane agreed. "An idiot, really, but not through lack of intelligence - or potential. In any other situation than the one we were thrown into, I would have quickly overlooked and tried to ignore her, but it seems that Living Force Bomoor subscribes to has a lot to answer for in this instance, but blaming fate is no excuse." Once again he found her absent Force signature a wonder, a part of him always thinking and considering the abnormality. With narrowed eyes, he asked simply: "Why can I not sense you?"

Even as he posed the question, he continued to also find the absolute lack of emotions or thoughts - of anything - still perturbing. "No Human, based on what information I scoured in the Jedi Archives or elsewhere, has ever been naturally born that way," he said, full of curiosity and interest. "What happened on Dromache, truly?"

Morgo leaned her weight against the counter, “What manner of creature am I, you ask?” she said, voice amused, “Well, there are many schools of thought on that subject.” Morgo sighed as she studied Thane, wondering whether or not telling him would benefit her standing with him at all. Morgo had a feeling that Thane was not a man who cared much about the stories of anyone. Yet this was the second time now that he had asked her about why he could not sense her in the Force. Surely this meant something to him, the solving of a puzzle. Morgo blinked, looking at Thane from beneath dark lashes. Perhaps indulging him was in her best interest.

“If you were to believe my father," She began, "I was to be a goddess amongst insects, once he was finished with me. My step-father, Markus Fen was of a different inclination, as you may know.” Morgo smiled lightly, “You remember Markus Fen, don’t you?”

Something akin to a cross between a half-grin and a grimace crossed Thane's face, an expression that was becoming more common to him, and made him look slightly older than his actual twenty-five years, but his eyes showed a glint of pure interest. "The step-father you were accused of murdering. I have to admit, Dromachean court intrigues are," he gave a short scoff of a laugh, "well, intriguing, and I did follow your case when it was publicised."

He gestured towards a chair, asking if he could sit down. When given permission, he settled down. With the absence of his black cloak, it was a far quicker shift in posture. "Based on what little I know of your noble house and what you've said, I assume you were involved in some experiment? I can't deny an appreciation for how culture has developed on Dromache, though; if only more were so propelled by the need for greater knowledge." Thane then gave Morgo a knowing look. "But, of course," he went on, motioning to the other Human, "there are often prices to be paid."

Morgo was pleased, the man was perceptive. But instead of taking the usual route of this story, however, Morgo leaned closer to the ex-Jedi, looking into his blue eyes, “Do you think I killed Markus Fen, Verus?” she asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Whilst it should not have been a complete surprise to Thane that this woman knew more details concerning his heritage from Caanus than he expected, it was still highly strange to hear his noble house's title being used to address him; it had been many years since he had heard another even utter the word.

Finally, after examining her grey eyes, unique and flecked with deep intelligence, he gave his reply. "Yes, I do," Thane stated simply, "but it's poor manners to answer a question with another question."

“Yes it is, isn’t it? I apologize.” Morgo said, not sounding the least bit remorseful, “But it does pertain because you see…” The woman tilted her head slightly, “…Markus’ death was not the first. Before him, his beastly son, Castinnius, died when he jumped off a balcony. And before him, my own father, Acheron, died in the lab, during the last experiment of his life—me.”

A smile like a knife crossed Morgo’s painted lips, “This condition of mine that you sense, or perhaps I should say, that you cannot sense, is the result of this experiment gone horribly wrong.” Morgo continued. “My father, by then well versed in experimenting on me, thought it might be interesting to separate the Force from me, a non-Force sensitive. It didn’t go well. I died. He resuscitated me, and when I came back, nothing came with me. The Force had been amputated from me.”

Morgo slowly leaned back, eyes distant as she recalled her father’s last notes, “It prompted my father to note in his journal: If severed from the Force too suddenly, the serum injected all at once, the subject dies.”

Morgo’s laugh was hollow. Subject.

Thane's face didn't change, nor did it display any hint of surprise or any great emotion bar simple interest, unfazed by what the former duchess was explaining to him. He let her continue.

“But my father was wrong." Morgo continued, eyes glinting, "The Force hadn’t been amputated from me. Not fully. When I came back to life, I was so angry . He had killed me, I thought to myself, killed and violated me for the sake of his name. I wished him dead in that moment. With a rage unlike any other, I wanted blood—my father’s blood.” And then shrugging, Morgo’s voice was like honey with an edge, “And I got it. He died a bloody stroke the moment I’d laid eyes on him, conscious once again. It was the first favor this disembodied Force of mine has ever done for me.” Morgo said, watching Thane carefully for a reaction.

"And the second and third - at least - were the Fens," he replied, nodding as he assimilated the knowledge, find that although it answered his question - at least concerning the cause of her apparent void in the Force - it certainly raised many others. The fact she had been able to cause those deaths through what could only be considered a perversion in the Force meant there was still some connection, or that she was still able to influence the Force in some particular way.

Thane remained silent for a few moments, himself watching Morgo's grey eyes bearing into him, almost goading him into some sort of reaction she might be able to take amusement in, but he felt no great feelings towards what she had done or what had been done to her. More and more he was becoming curious about how much of an enigma she was - and about this 'talent' of hers.

"Are you able to call upon that ability whenever you wish, or is it involuntary?" Thane peered at her, pushing forward with the Force, sending unseen tendrils towards and about her body and mind, but only slightly to see what sort of reaction she would have to it, or to even test his own ability to affect her.

“Would you consider it voluntary if it did my will, but comes on its own accord?"

Morgo had decided not to correct Thane over the supposed ‘third favor’, when she felt something tingle at the edge of her mind, like fingers trying to find purchase. Immediately, Morgo’s eyes flicked to Thane, who sat in his chair, poised as any noble man. His stormy blue eyes were searching, however, and Morgo narrowed her eyes. It was an energy she had been separated from for most of her life. Of course she would feel it when it slithered back, even if it was coming from someone else.

Still, though, Morgo was curious as to what he thought to accomplish, and allowed Thane his little experiment. So instead of stopping him, Morgo considered how to better explain herself.

“When you become very angry, Thane, it is your weapon, correct? You can choke people, or choose to channel into something else. When I become very angry, people tend to die. Or commit suicide.” Morgo said, unsympathetic, “My anger isn’t my weapon, it’s my demon.” She said, smiling faintly.

In response, Thane gave a short laugh, ending his stretches with the Force and shifting slightly back in the chair. "How poetic of you," he said, grinning at the woman, satisfied that he had his answer. "But given you have chosen to share something with me, it is only fair I share something with you - a something I think you'll be most appreciative of, and a something that is quite pertinent to your comments on the weapon of anger..."

TBC

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