THE FATHER 

"Faraire has the numbers," Zabro spoke in a low, stern voice.

It would take Lord Sern hours to return to the Imperial base. Leena wasn't much of a woman who knew how to use the silence around her to her advantage, it was one of the things that she managed to inherit from Zylas of all people. Soldiers would tell rookies a tale on how Moff Zabro would even intimidate a young prideful acolyte or Sith apprentice with those staring emerald eyes of his own.

He understood that power does not come from telling people he has it, it's by showing it.

"The old man seems to be less green than we'd hoped." One of Moff Zabro's high ranking officers spoke up, starting the conversation between their crew's war council.

"If Hurdenn listened to warning then we wouldn't have lost those two hundred men."

"Is it true about Lord Sern?"

"Hurdenn and Moff Zabro were given specific orders that she is to lead the assault as the commander in this task," General Rymar answered on behalf of their Moff who continued to embrace the silence from his chair.

Another soldier spoke, addressing General Quinn. "It's a catastrophe if Hurdenn continues to lick the boots of our Sith superiors, perhaps it would be wise to take command from Lord Sern – if she agrees..."

But instead, the old General pushed his cup off the table causing it to break. At the same moment, Lord Sern's second-in-command Captain Quinn and her freed slave entered the room with the assistance of another soldier. Who quickly excused himself from the scene.

The crowded conversation going around the command center of the base has been an annoyance inside of his head. He didn't dare to speak, nor even give them the eye contact that they would expect on a few occasions. Rymar spoke, no one even dared acknowledged the newcomers. "There's your answer. Darth Baras saw to that when he decided to torture the girl into a vicious weapon. You will have an easier time drinking from that cup than to convince Lord Sern to pass the scepter to Moff Zabro. All of that… sentimentality aside – I believe taking command from her is better than Hurdenn."

"I'm told that Darth Baras has her on a leash."

"The first order of business is to kill General Faraire."

"No loopholes, we can't afford any mistakes. We should march on them at once."

"First, we must consult with Lord Sern before we make any advances—"

"QUIET!" Zabro's deep voice boomed through the room as he gave his commanding officers the stare, they were looking for a while back. Both Vette and Malavai were startled by the sudden voice from the old Moff. He startled people by going silent to booming in an instant – which grabs attention immediately.

But once he has attended, he quiets right back down. Making his quiet demeanor of interaction just as frightening as his booming tone, because no one knows when he's ever going to switch. "Get out – all of you."

Malavai had never seen so many Imperial officers with a higher ranking than him, scattered out of the room in less than two minutes. Zabro is a man who is very comfortable with silence.

Rymar gave out a small smile as he approached the two companions of Lord Sern's crew. Malavai quickly gave out a salute. "General Quinn."

The General nodded in acknowledgment. "Captain… Quinn. I will brief you immediately, follow me—"

"Not you Quinn." The General sighed, turning around to meet the Moff's cold gaze on him. It was a direct order to remain. Rymar gestured the two companions to follow him as they began to head towards Zabro who remained in his seat.

He quietly observes both of them from head to toe and turns back his gaze to his General. "Are these two them?"

Rymar nodded. "Yes sir."

Zabro says nothing for a few moments, making the Twi'lek gaze towards the Captain who remained still and quiet to where they stood. The old General was also quiet. They were all aware that this man, seated on his chair, is a man who knows what he wants and does things in his way and time. He almost always creates a situation where he gets the last word, and the conversation always closes on his terms.

The old man stood up in front of the Captain, looking down on him as if he was a rat in the Hutt pleasure worlds. "You are my daughter's second-in-command, yes?"

Malavai nodded. "Yes sir."

Zabro then turned his eyes to the Twi'lek. "And you are the slave she freed."

"Well, I'm not exactly a slave—"

"You were a Twi'lek with a shock collar and was lucky to be given to a Sith Lord who has a sense of mercy. You're not a slave anymore, you're more of an employee. Tell me Twi'lek, what did my daughter do to earn such loyalty from you?" Vette could see it in his eyes, he was looking for something. An answer to an unknown question.

As scary as Zabro is, standing before her – she gave a firm answer. "She gave me a choice. And I chose to stay."

He then turned to the Captain. "How about you Captain? Do you understand your job?"

"Yes sir." Captain Quinn didn't hesitate about the answer. In his years of service with the Imperial Military, it was only natural for him to know where he should be or what he should do, especially under Sith superiors. But that was not what the Moff was asking about.

"You understand the titles, your Captaincy – they are not the job." Moff Zabro spoke sternly not as the Moff but rather as a man who once married a Sith Lord himself.

"Sir?" Quinn turned to him puzzled.

Zabro sighed and turned his emerald hues onto the Captain. He knew what those eyes were when Quinn would gaze upon the Moff's daughter – their Lord Sern. The eyes of longingness. "She is the job. She is the essence of your duty. Being with her, protecting her – of course, you might someday miss your career if you continue down this path but doing this for her, doing this for me – can be a greater act of patriotism."

"I understand sir."

"Do you, boy? Do you really?"

The Captain wanted to avoid his gaze but couldn't. He wasn't so used to this kind of aura, a commanding presence that Broyc did not have nor Baras even. Moff Zabro was a man on a whole different level.

A rare enough thing, a man who lives up to his reputation – some would even ask who is the real power behind the Imperial Military. Several Moffs, united in fear of Erhart Zabro.

Even Grand Moff Rycus Kilran did not trust Moff Zabro, but he earned his respect. Zabro was no fool after all. These two men understood that sometimes they must work with their rivals rather than destroy them.

This is a man who has experienced all kinds of tragedy, and still even at his age, he kept on pushing himself to the limits and be the leader the Empire needed for Military achievement and victory against their enemies. Zabro was fully aware that the top brass of the Imperial Military is all squabbling men who would eliminate the competition and stick to the right Sith or Imperial Officer to gain such mighty favor, without skill, without talents, or without the core understanding that military leadership is a journey and not a destination.

After all, he had a legacy to uphold.

"Pardon, sir." An ensign entered the room with a stiff salute. "Lord Sern has arrived with her apprentice. Her assault on Generals Minst and Derunt is a complete success."

"Leave, I want a word with Lord Sern alone." Excusing themselves, it has been a while since Zabro saw his daughter without the mask. He wondered constantly if her eyes were yellow or orange, corrupting herself with the dark side of the Force like so many before her.

Zabro took a deep breath, remembering how the night was on Dromand Kaas when she was born. She was nothing more than another innocent being brought into the world. But that was decades ago, he does know this – if she is as corrupt as her Master, and carries the Empire's battles with an iron fist, who knows what she can do with such unyielding power.

"You wish to speak with me, Moff Zabro?" It didn't take long for the Sith Lord to appear in the quarters. She was everything he remembered Zylas to be – powerful and unyielding. This sense of terror resembles Zylas's later life and yet there was also mercy, an aspect that resembles Zylas's early life.

The mere presence of his daughter, his oldest girl – reminded him of how alone he was in the galaxy.

He didn't know how he did it. How he could stand there and tell himself that he's a decent man, after everything he did. He did as he was told, he did what he thought was right, he did what was needed for the Empire, for his family – and the ranks, the medals and the recognition he received were not enough to fill the holes his wife and his children left behind.

He disobeyed orders to make sure his children were alive, but they were gone from his life.

He murdered people so he could be with his wife, and yet she died anyway.

"The helmet." He pleaded, standing up as he stood before his daughter – his precious girl. He wanted to see her, he wanted to see those grey eyes again. He wanted to know how she was after all of these years. "Please."

Leena nodded. Taking off the helmet to reveal those familiar grey eyes, how white her hair had become. How much she looked like Zylas, it was slowly killing him like poison. He heard stories of how Darth Baras tortured her, trained her – Zabro was disgusted on how he raised her.

For a man of his genius, he finds himself a fool for listening to Zylas. Even beyond the grave, he finds himself listening to every will she had for her children to follow. This legacy that she wanted to continue. It was a constant conflict within him, not as a soldier but as a man – as a father.

"You look so much like your mother."

"Everyone says that." She quietly avoided his gaze for a while. Moments later she looked up to see his old emerald eyes. Though in front of her was the father who did not raise her, a part of her said that she cannot trust a man who serves under Sith. "Not that I even know what she looked like before Occlus gave me her Holocron – but we're not here to talk about how much of a clone I am to mother… don't we?"

"No." He shook his head, as he walked at the other side of the table-turning off the hologram map of the facility they were about to assault. "I called you here to talk about Lord Sern."

"I don't understand—" but before Leena could finish, Zabro raised his hand. She found herself in silence as he continued.

"Lord Zylas Sern." He paused, carefully thinking about his next words as he met those grey eyes – as if they were haunting him and his past. "About Zylas the Conqueror."

"Zylas the Conqueror?" Leena raised her brow, not knowing where this conversation would go. "Creative name."

"You heard nothing about your mother from other Sith Lords or Imperial Officers?"

"No." There it was. He knew that look – the cold gaze that Zylas would give him in their later years of marriage. "Baras would sometimes tell me that she would appreciate me being Sith – how she wanted me to have her lightsabers, but I only inherited one."

"Nothing… more?" There had to be more. Occlus had been meeting her in secret in Leena's early years as an apprentice. She could have heard something, from other Sith Lords or even Imperial officers whispering behind her back. He was looking for validation.

"No." She repeated. "The only thing I heard about my mother that she was a Padawan with a Jedi Master and later on became Sith under Darth Malgus. If you are here to educate me about them, I'm giving you full permission to do so. I know they're nothing but lies."

"What I'm about to tell you are not lies." Zabro quietly sat down, without even avoiding those eyes as she began to peak in curiosity. "At some point in my… Imperial career after I was transferred from Imperial Intelligence, I was given the Captaincy rank – second grade and was immediately posted under your mother as her second-in-command. I was at her side when she was at her best – whatever your mother's enemies or your enemies would say about her… they aren't lies, I am telling you now."

A part of her desperately wanted to know. She remembered asking Occlus about what she knew and was denied. Leena had the answer to her questions – all she had to do was give him the word: "Go on." She said.

Zabro did not hesitate. "Your mother was wise, kind, strong – everything I aspired to be. A leader who I was prepared to fight and die for in the name of the Empire. After your sister was born, your mother was summoned by the Emperor and changed. Instead of the usual smart tactical approaches – she commanded to use brute forces on the planets we were sent to tame, stop rebellions much like the ones on Balmorra. When we captured rebels and their leaders, she would murder their children in front of them. She would have men skinned alive and smirked as they screamed, and her efforts to stamp out dissent led to her untimely death on Alderaan – which killed every Sern from the mainline – except for a few."

Those yellowish eyes she saw in the Holocron, it was not a simple mind trick. She could only muster a few words from her mouth, trying to process all of this in a single moment. "I'm not my mother."

"I pray that you're not." Her hands were slowly trembling, all those moments where she could imagine being safe if her mother had lived – wouldn't be any different from her life with Baras. "Your mother gave our enemies the justice she thought they deserved, and each time it made her feel more powerful and right until the very end. I want you to think carefully about your choices and not to let emotion cloud your judgments."

Those words woke something inside of her. Those eyes became cold again as if she was staring into his soul. "My emotions do not cloud my judgments – my passion drives me forward."

"Then why is he still alive?" Zabro's stern voice placed the whole room into an uncomfortable silent ambiance.

"Who?"

"Your Master, Baras." Something was unsettling about his tone. Something Leena couldn't even point out for herself. "He killed your husband, didn't he? Why is he still alive if your so-called passion drives you forward?"

"It's too soon."

Zabro scoffed as if mocking her. "Too soon. You spend too much time worrying about who will kill you and how they will kill you."

"I could care less about who would try to kill me not until I kill them first." Leena tried to contradict. She knew good people in the Empire – of course, their methods are questionable but no one is truly innocent in the galaxy.

"Yes, of course, that's what you want people to think of you."

She rolled her eyes. "It is the truth."

"Tell me." He paused. "When you hear them whispering Baras's apprentice doesn't it bother you?" Leena couldn't help but heavily sigh with irritation. She didn't know that he could push her buttons this hard on their first meeting in years – it almost made her want to kill him like Duke Kendoh.

She answered. "Of. Course. It. Bothers. Me."

"A woman in your position and power shouldn't concern herself with the opinions of insects. You can't afford to be reckless around a man such as Baras. I'm granting you a couple of connections within the Military, powerful connections such as spies and other high ranking officers – you will bring that fathead of a Sith Lord to his knees and remind him that Serns are not easy to kill, and can never be killed if the game is played right."

"I didn't realize that you placed such a high value on my life."

"You're my daughter." He answered rather softly as he stood up from his seat, gently placing his hand onto her shoulder with eyes still in contact. "You may be a Sith Lord now but you will always be… my daughter. But each day you remain under Baras's leash the less your name commands respect. You are blessed with abilities that few Sith possess, you are blessed to belong in one of the most powerful Orders in the galaxy – and you're still blessed with youth. I need you to be smart with these blessings."

He continued. "The future of your legacy will be determined in the next few months. You could establish a dynasty that could last a thousand years – or you could collapse into nothing as your mother did." He then placed his hand onto her cheek. There was no sense of sadness in him, nor longingness – but anger and determination. "I need you to become the leader you were always meant to be. If you're going to play the game, win."

A good man does everything in his power to safeguard his children's lives.