Chapter Text
Korriban
The Dark Council was silent, even accounting for the fact that they were missing a third of their number. Everyone was on edge, uneager to broach the topics that needed attention. Not when they had their biggest mess they had to contend with, was one that no one was willing to bring up.
Even Vowrawn and Nox had nothing to say. The latter was trying to hide his nerves behind his droll sense of humor, but Marr wasn’t buying it. This was his maiden voyage as a Councilor, so Marr was hoping he wouldn’t make too big a fool of himself. Or put his upbringing on display by accident. The Dark Council needed someone like him, but if he was boorish enough to earn their ire—or worse, their annoyance—before entering into his own, there was nothing he could do to help him.
It was some time before Marr called to simply allow their guest to enter the chambers to address the Council.
“Greetings, Tiarna,” Marr bowed his head. “You wished to speak to us.”
“Yes. Hello.” She frowned at everyone. “Why do I get the feeling that nothing’s gotten done today?”
“Because it hasn’t. The magnitude of what’s happened—”
“That’s precisely why you need to get underway. The war is still going on out there, and we’ve lost a lot of momentum already.”
“No argument there,” Nox snorted. “We’re on the back foot here, and wrestling with a Rancor cub that is quickly maturing into a bull.”
“Besides, haven’t you heard? The Emperor was planning to kill us all. Vajra Devarath did us a huge favor by getting him first.”
“And we are grateful for that,” Marr growled. “But his side benefits a great deal more than ours. Our forces are demoralized, seemingly beyond all hope, while theirs has never been more energized.”
“Yeah, that is a pickle, alright!” she tweaked her perfect nose and contemplated. Perhaps in truth. “You have two options then. Sue for peace, or crown a new Emperor and resume the war effort. Whatever you do, please don’t frame it as seeking vengeance. The proof that he was trying to destroy us all is enormous. Nor should we defend a traitor.”
“You’ve turned on your new master quickly, haven’t you?” Ravage glowered. “Have you no sense of loyalty?”
“Don’t give me that! He used me. That brought back memories. He was going to kill me soon, anyway. Or worse.”
“In fact, it might be best to publish whatever proofs Grand Master Shan releases,” Nox added. “And admit they were accurate. Plus, whatever we can find on our own end. It might help our civilians shake off his ill-timed passing.”
Kaimeryn looked at him with approval, taking closer notice of the Council’s newest member, and liking what he brought to it. Nox shuddered slightly.
“Did you come here today to put forth your own candidacy for the throne?” Vowrawn asked. “Or influence the process?”
“Heavens forbid!” Kaimeryn exclaimed. “Look, I don’t care who you select as our new Emperor, so long as it isn’t me. Or if you do choose the truce option.”
“There are many of us who won’t stand for a peaceful settlement. Not after what that Republic soldier painted on the Citadel.”
The tall Sith burst into raucous laughter. “I thought it was hilarious!”
“Of course, you would,” Marr rolled his eyes behind his mask. “Is this why you came here today, then?”
“The Empire is in peril. What else could I do? Outside of this Council, I’m the highest-ranking Sith alive. I need to be here.”
“Some would say, that you rank higher than us.”
“It’s more accurate to say that I’m outside your purview. But you command the Sith Empire itself. I don’t. If I take on your role without your approval, it would undermine everything further. Why do you think I supported old Grinch, in the first place? Loyalty? I wanted Baras gone without the hassle of throwing the Empire into chaos.”
“You are the only one alive whom we can crown Emperor.”
“If you do that, I’ll be suing for peace. This war is a drain on all resources, swallowing up trillions of credits and lives.”
“And here I thought you were a warrior,” Ravage sneered.
“You thought wrong then, didn’t you? I’m a Prince. Well, a Queen now, I suppose. Fighting is my hobby, not my duty.”
“We cannot crown a new Emperor, if it’s not you,” Vowrawn sighed. “And we cannot sue for peace.”
“Whom do we even look to?” Mortis wondered. “One of our own? Or someone like Malgus?”
Everyone looked at each other. Tiarna Kaimeryn rolled her eyes. “Oh, please! You allowed Baras, of all people, to make a power bid—”
“And look where it got him!” Rictus snarled.
“You were the one who chastised us for that!” Ravage burst out.
“I ‘chastised’ you for not keeping your people away from my peers, and punished you when I didn’t like your response. Completely different.”
“And what will your role be in the new paradigm?” Marr asked.
“I will be semi-independent. I will support the Empire, but not be subject to its monarch’s whims and fancies. The Dracogriffs will go where I send them. But not in force. I need to rethink our tactics. Corellia was hard on us, all those tight spaces and hidden nooks for enemy artillery.”
“You did well, regardless. Fewer than thirty percent casualties, when the rest of our forces were at seventy.”
“Most of those casualties happened when we were screening allied forces during their retreat. I think the replenished Legion has proved its mettle.”
“Some good news, at least.”
“So what should our next step be?”
“Putting down uprisings?”
“I think you should fill our own numbers first,” Nox suggested. “And make them count.”
“That is sense,” Vowrawn nodded. “Malgus was soundly defeated on Dromund Kaas, but Occlus, Soverus, Arkous, and Atroxa have proved themselves over the years. Then there’s Darth Arho. Severin, too.”
“Occlus can take over Acheron’s post, and Arho from Darth Baras,” Marr suggested. “Soverus is a good successor for Decimus. As for Hadra, we don’t have a successor for her yet. We will have to think on it.”
“Let us notify the candidates then,” said Nox. “And reconvene when they’re ready to join us.”
“Very well. Unless you have anything else to say, my dear friend?” Vowrawn smiled at the Muinar.
“No, that is all. I wanted to make sure that the Empire was still running. We’re about to lose Carida as we speak. Whoops! I think it’s already lost.”
“We’ll get there. We appreciate your insight.”
Once she left, Darth Nox ventured “Why didn’t we grant her a Seat on this Council?”
“Because she already wields more power than the rest of us combined. She proved that when she took our territories virtually unopposed. Electing her amongst us is the same as declaring her the new Empress.”
“Why don’t we do that then? Let her sue for peace. Perhaps we need a breather.”
Everyone looked at each other.
“As a window building up our own forces,” Nox added in an irritated voice. “The Republic sure got stronger in the Treaty Period! There’s no reason why we can’t prepare for a comeback!”
“That is a good point,” Marr conceded. “But the Republic doesn’t trust us. In the last war, we used a truce as a trap to strip Coruscant of its defenses, and the Temple of its Jedi. They will not be so quick to trust us again. Not unless we travel to Coruscant with the smallest guard possible. And agree to humiliating terms. That would be seen as a surrender.”
“Didn’t the Supreme Commander even say as much, in his broadcast?” Ravage reminded everyone. “He doesn’t think it’s possible to foster peace with us still in charge. He wants us gone.”
“Besides, the Tiarna may be willing to do it, but her power is unquestioned. Ours is not. Confidence in the Dark Council is at an all-time low.”
“Let us take that break then,” Vowrawn sighed. “I’ll inform Occlus and Arho.”
Marr nodded. “And I’ll contact Soverus.”
“We’ll reconvene in two hours then.”
“Make it one,” Ravage said tersely. “Our forces on Ryloth just surrendered.”
*
Darth Nox entered the VVIP cantina booths nervously. He’d never been here before, and had looked forward to the first time he could enter this place. Ask the waiters if there was anything special for someone of their status.
He found whom he was looking for at once. Darth Kaimeryn was hard to miss. “Tiarna Kaimeryn.”
“Darth Nox. You’ve risen up, since we last met.”
“The Council resumes in thirty minutes—”
“Easy. I didn’t bring you here to hurt you. Or plot something.”
“Then why did you invite me here?”
“Well, you piqued my interest in there. I wanted to know exactly what kind of causes you’ll be taking up, now that you hold one of the reins of government.”
Despite himself, Nox blurted out the truth. “I was a slave. I know what it’s like, being a slave. You Sith seem to think it’s weakness that defines us, but it’s not. Many of us are strong. And without us, Imperial society would crumple.”
“Tell me about it, I doubt Ravage has done so much as pick up a fallen spoon without turning to a servant or slave in the past twenty years.”
Nox snorted. “Exactly. And the war has been driving masters to push, poke, prod, and punish until the slaves just drop down and die. We’ve lost a million slaves since the war officially rekindled.”
“So what is your solution?”
“I want to declare that slaves are too valuable to burn out like this. That if we don’t want to be reduced to doing our own dirty work, slaves need some rights and guarantees. And owners need checks on what they can do. Look at how far I’ve risen! I was a slave once! I still buckle at the sound of a whip—” he bit his lip. He was admitting to weakness, a fatal mistake amongst Sith.
“So you wish to improve the lot of the slaves, do you? And I notice you said ‘you Sith,’ and ‘us’ when talking about slaves.”
“The one lesson Thanaton taught me which I could not ignore, was how no one is going to forget my origin.”
“But is that what you are? What you think you are? A slave?”
“A former slave, maybe.”
“But you are Sith. The Dark Side is powerful in you. You follow our creed. It is your own. And you are on the Dark Council.”
“Because I bested a Councilor in single combat. Nothing more.
“A couple of years ago, a spy called Cipher Nine bested Darth Jadus in single combat. I’m not sure I could’ve done that, even. The man was the most powerful Sith born in two hundred years. But they didn’t stick her with his position. Well, technically he wasn’t a Councilor anymore at the time, as we all thought he’d been assassinated. But—oh, sod it! You get my point!”
“Where is this Cipher Nine, now?”
“Who knows? While everything’s a mess right now, Imperial Intelligence is functionally dead. Some genius disbanded it. Half their assets are missing. Another good chunk were KIA, doing jobs they were really not suited for.”
“Then where are we getting our Intel from?”
“Ravage has many contacts thanks to his work in diplomacy. And Vowrawn is one of the most charming people you’ll ever meet. Many Sith Lords had their own private networks of spies and agents. That droid over there—” she pointed covertly at one serving droid. “It belongs to Darth Mortis. It’s only thanks to this jammer that we have privacy.” She tapped on her wrist. “I have my own feelers out there, mostly in Imperial space. My ones in the Republic have been getting flushed out over the past few months. But that’s not my point. You are Sith. Talk like it. Act like it. Otherwise, you will be overthrown no matter how powerful you are. By your own bodyguard, unless I’ve misjudged him.”
Damn. She’s sharp. “Thank you. Now why are you asking what my plans are?”
The tall woman absent-mindedly chewed on a pear as she thought of her answer.
“It seems your historian friend has found tangible proof.” Kaimeryn passed her a printed copy of a report. “You are, officially, the descendant of Lord Kallig.”
“Yes,” Hekaten—Darth Nox—glanced over the contents of the report, though Talos had already shown it to him before. “A real joy. Gives me a bit of legitimacy, but it won’t stop everyone from calling me ‘slave.’”
“Ah, so you haven’t realized what this means, yet. You now have irrefutable claim to an ancient lineage. Older than most others, including those of Marr, Vowrawn, and many, many others. Almost as old as mine.”
Hekaten nodded. “Yes, I’m aware of this.”
“But not of what that entails. Lord Alloysius Kallig was one of the greatest Sith of his time, almost as powerful as the feared Tulak Hord. So powerful, that even the paranoid Hord had no choice but to name him among the greater peers of the Empire. He was an Ebon Prince. And now, so are you.”
Hekaten went rigid as a board. What had he just heard? Ebon Prince? Himself? He remembered his time in this Academy, where the highest of high nobles were talked about in tones of utmost respect and admiration. Many talked about their dreams of joining those hallowed ranks. No one had broken in. Not in centuries. He swallowed after several attempts. “And what does that mean?”
“Good question. The Ebon Princes, most of us anyway, have served one particular purpose for the past thousand years, but the old Grinch is gone now. You are free to define what the title means, for yourself. Not immediately, of course. Some of your present colleagues will not stand for it. But as an Ebon Prince, you are entitled to reduced oversight from the Council, and greater personal power. Some of the Systems I now control, were once held by Kallig. Those are rightfully yours. More importantly, the Rooks have traditionally protected our fellow Princes for thousands of years… provided they remained loyal to the Empire, of course.”
“You’re proposing an alliance.”
“Of a sort. I’m curious to see what you bring to the table. You’re a paradigm the Council hasn’t seen in a while. You could either be very bad for us, or just what we needed. Here’s the most important thing I have for you. As Ebon Prince, you have the first right to claim the throne for yourself. By the way, that’s one of the reasons why the others are hesitant to press their own claims to the Throne.”
Hekaten felt his stomach drop into some gaping abyss. Emperor? Him? He was still being called a slave by most mouths! “This… this is some kind mistake!”
“It’s not. That’s why I called you here today. I wanted you aware. There are, no doubt, plots against you right now. Councilors looking to oust you so they have a shot for the Throne. The only reason that you’re still here is because Marr, Vowrawn, and Mortis are on your side. Their word still carries great weight. They’ve seen your power and knowledge. Besides, now’s a bad time for this kind of infighting. Oh, now that I recall, Decimus once gave a glowing review about you, as well. Right after the Foundry operation.”
Hekaten swallowed a few more times. “Are you… are you also on my side?”
“Yes. I’m not going to force you to become the new Emperor. That is entirely up to you. Does it fit with your goals? Do you feel secure enough to make a play right now? Or would you rather play a long game? Build up your power base first. Make sure the Councilors who would be Emperor are always nervous about treading on your toes. Even if you don’t want the job, it might be a good idea to keep the Throne vacant for a while. A new Emperor might push the winds in a direction we don’t want to go.”
“I thought you said we should name an Emperor.”
“I did say that, didn’t I? But only because I knew they wouldn’t take it. I was hoping they’d go with the second option.”
“Why do you want peace?”
Kaimeryn looked uncharacteristically serious. “I lost a lot of my family to the war. Uncles, aunts, cousins… parents. And so did most of my people. My childhood friends. Tell me. Do you know how many died, on both sides?”
Hekaten shrugged. “If I recall, the official number was… one hundred and twenty or thirty billion?”
“Officially, yes. But what about unofficially, counting for all the dead slaves, transients, outcasts, refugees, criminals—even the petty ones—and undesirables? Closer to seven trillion.”
“Holy kazam-damn!”
“So as painful as my mother’s death was for me, she was just one in seven trillion. So many things she could no longer do, so many memories I couldn’t have with her… all gone. Just like seven trillion others, and all the families they left behind.” She sat back with a depressed twist on her lips. “I’m a pacifist,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love me a good brawl. But I want the killing to end. I’ll be happy to duel every creature in the galaxy in some kind of contest or other, but I want the war itself to end. I don’t care about dumb things like reputation or pride.”
“Then why not take the throne yourself? No one could oppose you! You’ve already proven your personal and military might.”
“Yes. But I have other goals too, believe it or not. Goals not quite compatible with being a nanny. And I take my responsibilities seriously. If I lead the Empire into a peace they don’t want, I’m going to have to lead them through it as well.”
“I see.”
“So there you have it. I think my wish is compatible with your chief focus, is it not? An end to the war would be beneficial to all slaves.”
“Yes, it would. But I’m not in a position to start pushing for peace just yet. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
“If I were in your corner, you would be in that position, within a few years.”
“What if I don’t want peace?”
“Then you won’t have much of my support at all. Figure out what to do when some of the others decide to get rid of you, for yourself. With me at your back, everyone will remember what happened when Baras killed my allies. I’ve promised them that the next time would be much worse.”
“That won’t be much comfort to me, if I’m dead.”
“That’s just it. No one would even try to make you dead. Except perhaps Khem Val. Him, you’ll need to tame by yourself.”
“He respects you, you know. Your family.”
“He will respect you too, once you stop flinching. Once you stop saying ‘us slaves.’ Shit, it looks like your time is almost up.” She downed the rest of her meal in a rush. “Go on. Think about what we discussed. I’m sure we’ll speak again. Now that you are what you are, there’s no avoiding each other.”
Hekaten tried not to stumble as he left. He’d been given way too much to chew on today. But at least, some of it was to his taste.
*
Aboard the Feral Dragon
Darth Malgus prowled the deck of his ship. The Battle of Dromund Kaas had shaken the whole Empire to its core. He had been handed his bitterest humiliation, yet. That dour wench, Satele Shan, had survived him once again. He refused to accept that she’d technically won, thinking to himself that there was no winner in a fight where everyone survived. He was alive, and he was going to make her regret not killing him.
The Emperor’s death had come as a massive shock to everyone, but Malgus and his cohorts were already getting used to the fact. They were starting to take it in stride. They were starting to see it as a boon. Now that the Emperor was dead, Malgus could truly shine. There was nothing left in his way now. He and his allies could make their move much sooner than they’d hoped, and there was little that anyone could do to stop them.
Malgus gave a ferocious grin which was not quite hidden behind his mask.
Soon. My time is coming, soon. Eleena… thank you. Your sacrifice has given me the strength to get this far. With you in my heart, nothing can beat me. The next time I face Shan or Devarath, they will die painfully.
Arkis Wode, his chief scientist, stepped up to him. “Dark Lord. We have it at last. We have what we need to make your plans come to fruition. But there’s something we need as… fuel.”
“Go on.”
“Adegan crystals. As much as you can get us. And the biggest known source of the minerals, is on Ilum.”
“Ilum, eh…” Malgus considered it. He didn’t have the power to attack that Republic-held world by himself. Those crystals were important to the Jedi, and even the likes of Saresh wouldn’t strip its defenses, as the Sith had long had an eye on the crystals. It was too-well guarded for him to take without significant casualties, but he was happy to have his compatriots do the dying for him. “Contact Darth Arho. Give him a taste of your research. Enough to interest him, but not enough to give him any hint of our plans.”
“At once, my Lord. Or should I say… my Emp—”
“No, not yet. I want to wait until the climax, so I can savor hearing that title for the first time.”
“As you command.” The Anomid hurried away, flanked by his creations.
“It’s almost time,” Jindo Krey grinned. “Can you believe it? Years of maneuvering, finally coming to a head.”
“Yes. Vajra Devarath will regret his magnum opus, before he dies. He will realize that it was only thanks to him that my ascendance came so easily. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”
*
The Jedi Temple
Tol Braga, former Jedi Master, former Sith Lord, and current prisoner of the Jedi Order, sat dully in his cell. He had limited freedoms, even by the standards of prisoners. A shock collar and stun cuffs prevented use of the Force. He was in a room with atmosphere breathable by Kel Dor, with little furniture inside. Nothing he could use as a weapon. Or as a means to end his own life. His cell had a reinforced transparisteel window through which others could speak to him, but so far, he’d not been granted any visitors. Or interrogators. Probably the others were seeing to the war.
But he knew someone was coming now, thanks to the light in the other room. And who should it be, but Grand Master Satele Shan! She’d retaken her position as Grand Master, and ensured that she’d been given powers that actually befitted the flowery title. And, he’d had to admit, she’d shown that she was deserving of such trust and honor. In the present, the ageing human had the unmistakable air of vindictiveness about her.
“Hello, Satele.”
“That’s ‘Grand Master Shan’ to you. We are no longer on a first-name basis after all the indignities you put me through.”
“Pettiness ill-becomes the Grand Master of the Jedi Order.”
“But hypocrisy suits you like a glove, doesn’t it? However were you granted the rank of Master? Or did your first trial leave you vulnerable to your second?”
“I do not have to answer your barbed questions, Satele.”
“Grand Master Shan. Trying to pretend that I haven’t bounced back from your attempted character assassination, are you?”
“You do not deserve that title.”
“Your new owner is dead.”
Tol, in the process of turning his back on her, spun around. “WHAT?!”
“The Emperor is dead. Vajra struck him down on Dromund Kaas. Surely you Felt it? The whole galaxy did. People on Tatooine and Asphodel felt it. Even that collar wouldn’t have stopped it from reaching you. Unless you were caught up in your own quagmire.”
Tol couldn’t say anything. He sank onto his knees, then Reached out reflexively to grasp at the truth. “It’s true…” he whispered. “He’s… I can’t Sense him!”
“How does it feel, Targy? To know that all your rantings and ravings about how inevitable his victory was, were just your own pathetic coping mechanism to excuse your own failure? Your own… inadequacy?”
“Don’t call me Targy! You know damn well what it means—”
“Yes. And the insult suits you.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “Is this your way of getting me to call you Grand Master?”
“Call me whatever the fuck you want. It doesn’t change who, or what I am”
“What’s going to happen to me?”
“Forgiveness is no longer on the table. You are past redemption. I want you to fully reflect on your failure. You destroyed so many promising lives in pursuit of your own folly. You ignored all calls to reason and sense. You turned the Jedi Council into a backstabbing, politicking entity, no different from the Senate, or the Dark Council. And when you failed, as I told you you would, you resorted to pretending that you had no agency, all along. You decided the whole galaxy needed to die, for the crime of being a place where you could lose. The arrogance!”
Tol could do nothing but squirm under the heavy truth in her assertions. It was all true, and he didn’t have the ability to withstand the full force of Satele Shan’s fury.
“Your sentence has been left entirely to me. Even your cronies on the Council have acquiesced to it. Ida and Nikil are almost as poor Masters as you are. I wish I could have them removed from the Council for stubbornly clinging to their own incompetence. Unfortunately, that would make me no different from you. So here’s your sentence: from now on, until the end of your days, you will have to tend to the graves and memorials of every dead Jedi on Tython. You will reflect on their sacrifices and nobility, virtues you threw into the wayside when you began worshipping your own ego.”
“Is this what I’m being reduced to? A Gravekeeper?”
“Yes. Feeling bad? Like it’s so far beneath you, that it’s practically subterranean? Good. Perhaps a few years will be enough to chip away at your self-importance.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Refusal is a gift you denied to everyone, your whole career. Like them, you don’t get a choice. Have you forgotten, that you’re a prisoner? Get some good sleep tonight. Your work begins nice and early, at 04:30. Unless, that is, you want to go about your business in full view of the trainees. Am I understood?”
“I—” Tol considered reverting to rejecting her authority, but something told him that defiance here, would land him in even deeper waters. “I understand.”
“Good.” The cuffs fell off his hands, but the collar remained. “And don’t try anything. Your shock collar will be programmed to go off, if you step outside certain zones. You will be confined to the cell block, the memorials, and the graveyard. And the paths in between, of course. Try setting into the gardens, training grounds, cantinas, or heavens forbid, near any ship, and you will set off your collar. And I’ll find an even better punishment for you.”
She already had one lined up; he knew it.
“I won’t do anything funny.” For now.
“I’m glad we understand each other again. It’s 21:00 now. Go to bed. You will be woken, for your first month. After that, it’s on you to keep your time, if you want to avoid the humiliation of carrying out your duties in front of the people you used to command.”
“I understand.”
“Farewell, Braga. I do hope you remember your old nobility in this lifetime.”
*
Coruscant
Supreme Chancellor Leontyne Saresh traced a finger over the mantlepiece. She’d dreamed of this office all her life, and the power that it afforded her. She was now the most powerful being in Republic Space.
No, not just the Republic. The whole galaxy. The Emperor was dead. The accursed Sith Empire no longer had someone in a role similar to hers. Nor did the Hutts.
Her closest allies waited patiently behind her, letting her take in her moment. If only she still had Kolovish’s support. Her deep pockets had helped fund Saresh’s rise. Even though she turned out to be guilty of high treason, money was money. It paid the bills, and it bought her allies.
“Let’s get started then,” Saresh said, projecting every ounce of power that she could, into it. “We can finally begin our lives’ work; leading the Republic to victory against the blighted Sith.”
“We’re off to an auspicious start,” Joel Edgars said. “The Empire has been sent reeling from the Core Worlds. They’re on the back foot. Hells, their Emperor is dead!”
“Precisely!” Saresh nodded eagerly. “It was ordained that events all unfold as they have been. Right from the start, my term is marked by victory.” It didn’t matter that the victories weren’t hers. She could still claim them. And she had. Her approval ratings, which had been high recently, had soared almost to a hundred percent after the award ceremony on Tython. The highest of any Supreme Chancellor ever. Well… the approval ratings did not consider the military, most of who saw her in a much less favorable light. But their opinion hardly mattered. They would go where she pointed, regardless of their feelings.
“Where do we begin?” asked shifty Kala Sirek.
“We need to strike while the iron is hot,” declared Saresh. “I’m going to order Rans to raze the Academies on Korriban to the ground. Turn the settlements there to glass.”
“Bold.”
“Daring.”
“Brave!”
“Decisive!”
Saresh smiled as the compliments came in. “Thank you, my friends. I made it here today, thanks to your unflagging support. Now, it’s time I delivered on my promises. I will provide a beacon to the Republic. A beacon for the galaxy. A beacon that will shine for a thousand generations, showing our descendants that even the darkest times shall pass eventually. That no threat is too dangerous, when you have a strong, capable leader in charge. Call the Supreme Commander’s office. We’ll begin our talks with him immediately.”
*
The Supreme Commander’s Office
Supreme Commander Nolin Rans rubbed his forehead. “It’s starting. I’m surprised it took her this long.”
General Jace Malcom grunted sourly. “An attack on Korriban. I’m not gonna lie, I’d love to be able to do it. But they won’t be caught off-guard like they were when we attacked Dromund Kaas. Not a second time.”
“I can see why she wants this,” General Elin Garza said. “From all outward perspectives, her term started with a bang. She feels untouchable.”
“We need people to accept that our recent victories had little to do with any politician,” Rans remarked. “It was Grand Master Shan’s wisdom and charisma that gave us the nerve for that attack, and all the fruits that came with it. It was Vajra’s skill that brought us victory. And he’s spent. The Jedi were the prayer that brought us this good fortune. We can ill afford to lose it now, by acting recklessly.”
“The people of the Republic might not see things that way, however,” Admiral Numinn said. “They’re firmly behind Saresh. And we’ve seen how Saresh’s allies can spread rumors as fact. If we don’t follow her lead, we might end up having tales of our bullheaded refusal to follow her orders doing rounds in the markets.”
“I prepared for this eventuality,” said SIS Director Marcus Trant. “We have ways and means to counter any such attempts at rumor-mongering.”
“Never did trust politicians, did you?”
“You’re one to talk.”
“I’ll talk to the Chancellor,” Rans said. “I’ll tell her that there was a reason why absolute command over the military was divested from the Senate—and her own office—after the start of the war. I’ll let her know that what she wants just isn’t feasible.”
“With all due respect, Sir. You’re already someone she dislikes,” Garza said. “You’ve publicly reprimanded her on a number of occasions. She might be ready for you. She’ll be much more receptive to General Malcom.”
“I’m not exactly known for my tact, over here.”
“True, but you’ve stayed out of politics for most of your career. You’ve never talked flak about her where word would reach her. Speak to her, respectfully, and she might listen.”
“Wouldn’t a Jedi be better suited for this role? Perhaps the Grand Master?”
“Saresh’s dislike for the Jedi is well-known. Besides, the ones who received the orders are us, not the Jedi. We must be the ones to respond. We don’t want it looking like we went to them to intervene. Behind the Chancellor’s back, no less.”
“It doesn’t hurt that she has something of a crush on you,” Marcus spoke up reluctantly.
Jace glowered, but shrugged. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Thank you, Jace. I know it’s a lot to ask for.”
“It would be nice if we also had something else to offer instead.”
“Gamorr, Umbara, and Dathomir,” Trant supplied. “We can invade Gamorr, Umbara, and Dathomir. Gamorr has got multiple reputed Marauder Academies across its wildernesses, which are responsible for the bulk of the Sith grunts we face out there. Dathomir and Umbara are home to Assassin Temples. Taking out any one will be a major blow to the Sith. All three, will leave them discombobulated.”
“And neither is as tightly defended as the more prestigious Imperial Worlds. We can invade them within a month or two.”
“Alright,” Rans grinned. “That’s good enough. Jace?”
Jace returned the smile. “Done. It may not be a direct route, but perhaps it will lead us to where Saresh wants us to go, eventually.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Last month, I’d have said it was impossible,” Rans answered for him. “But then, Vajra went and killed their Emperor. Remind me, Marcus. What was the chatter like?”
“Utter disbelief. No one thought it was possible to harm their Emperor. Many of them are still in shock.”
“Few Jedi did, either. But they dared. Satele, Vajra, Kira… and they succeeded. Anything is possible, even if it’s hard.”
“What if Saresh is right? What if the Sith Empire is one bad scare away from total collapse?”
“My Intelligence suggests otherwise,” Trant replied. “At the very least, they’re ready for a repeat. If we attack, we will lose. And they will regain some confidence.”
“Let’s not doubt ourselves any further than this. Go on, Jace. We’ll see you later.”
“Sir.”
*
A month Later
Jasme hugged Vajra tightly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“I could go with you, you know. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“I won’t be alone. I have T7 and C2 with me.”
Mom had requested Jasme bring Vajra and Kira to her room a couple of weeks ago, and given him news that broke his heart. He hadn’t cried or said anything at first, not even voicing any denial that Ranna could have met such an unexpected, violent end. But Jasme could see it in his eyes. Grief. Powerful, overwhelming. Back-breaking.
Then and now. He had finally started to weep, after almost a week of just staring at the wall in shock. He hadn’t sought out professional help, instead choosing to deal with his emotions in his own way. Constructively, thank the Force. He spent weeks writing, drawing, training, and taking in the sights around the Temple. Accompanied by Bengel or Kira, he went on long hikes, including one to the Forge. He’d spent much time with Jasme, Kira, Satele, Bengel and his students (whom he’d gotten reacquainted with), and even Scourge. He had written a long, heartfelt letter to Ranna in farewell, then lit it on fire, along with a straw doll that resembled a Twi’lek. It was his sendoff to his first love.
Sad as she was, Jasme was also grateful that Vajra was trying to live. To move forward. That is why, despite seeing heartbreak written all over his face, she felt hope for Vajra. He’ll be fine. I should head back to Raudraksha when I get the chance. Tell them that he killed a wyrm of his own.
Yesterday morning, he had told his friends about the new path he was thinking of taking. And with them at his side, he’d made an official request for the Council: ‘Please put me on refugee aid and resettlement.’
The Council had been surprised at his request, but granted it after ten minutes of discussion. There was no shortage of refugees who needed aid. Master Devel had been especially pleased to grant Vajra’s request.
“I can’t stay here, Jasme,” he whispered. “And you can’t put your career on hold for me. Don’t worry. I promise I’ll call you every few days. Maybe we can meet every fortnight. But you’ll have to come to me.”
Jasme nodded sadly. “I’ll miss you.”
“Me too. But I’m so… I need to get busy.”
“This won’t work forever. Eventually, you’ll need help again.”
He nodded. “But for now, I need to get away from Tython. And I need something to keep me busy. Somewhere I can help a lot of people.”
“We’re always a call away,” Kira took her turn. “Don’t hesitate to reach out when you need us.”
Bengel nodded beside her. His Lightsaber sat comfortably on his right hip. Beside him, Tiari stood bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking as if she wanted to cry.
“I won’t.”
“Keep me in the loop too,” Satele said sadly. “So I can at least pretend that I’m looking out for you.”
“And keep your eyes peeled,” Scourge said. “Something is different this time. I know he’s out there, but I can’t Sense him Reforming. He’s either unable to for whatever reason, or he’s being sneaky about it. If it’s the latter case, as I’m betting, the likes of refugees are more likely to see some signs before either Council does.”
“I’ll keep watch.”
“I will conduct my own investigations. I’ll keep my secret channel open at all times. I suggest you do the same.” He eyed Kira. “And you.”
“Glad I’m included in your club!”
“You are powerful, and you are fierce. That was apparent to me right from the start. I would happily take your aid against the Emperor, the next time we face him.”
“Awww! Thank you.”
“And you, Lady Jasme. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, and traveling with you. But you are no warrior. Try to stay away from the fighting, this time.”
“Hey, I did the last time, right? I didn’t go looking for danger. I left without a complaint on Corellia.”
“You came with us to Belsavis,” Scourge reminded her.
“I felt safe around Vajra.”
“Well, I can’t argue the wisdom in that. But stay here on Tython for the foreseeable future. Where it’s safe.”
“Got it!”
“And you, Grand Master. I will always remember your courage and wisdom. You have all your ancestor’s strength, and little of his impetuosity. Little.”
“That is a huge relief to hear,” Satele bowed. “And please, always remember that we Jedi help our allies. If you ever need an extra pair of hands that isn’t Vajra’s or Kira’s, you only have to ask.”
The tall Sith nodded and smiled slightly. He then turned walked away without a true word of farewell, but Vajra gave each of his remaining friends one final hug before boarding his ship.
T7 whistled an excited question.
“As ready as I'll ever be. All systems green?”
<Affirmative!>
“Then it's time to head out. I'm ready for some real Jedi work, if you know what I mean. Helping and healing, rather than fighting and killing.”
<T7 = cannot wait!>
"As always, I love you for your enthusiasm. Flight control, this is Garuda, requesting clearance for departure.”
*
Oricon
Kavi Taa stepped out into the hot air, coughing slightly in the dust. A soldier handed her a mask. “I told you that you’d need this.”
She accepted it and slipped it over her nose.
“Believe it or not, this is the atmosphere on a good day. Nearby volcanoes belch out small ash clouds every few days. That’s when it’s really bad. The local life is…” she began droning on about the various adaptations the plants and beasts of this world had evolved to live on this world, but Kavi’s attention was drawn to the colorful pauldron of a nearby soldier. It was so pretty… so vivid…
“Umm. Jedi?”
“Yes?”
“Sorry sir. You must find my rambling boring.”
“I’m sorry, Private. What were we talking about?”
“Some other time, Yelva,” a Lieutenant walked up to the pair. “Master Kavi Taa? I was informed of your imminent arrival. We’re glad to have another Jedi here. Every one of your Order counts. That atmosphere the Sith have conjured up is even more stifling than the heat.”
“Yes. The Dread Masters. I believe I was tricked into setting them free, so it’s my responsibility to stop them.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m heading over to the Command Tent over there. We’ll begin the briefing when you’ve taken a tour of the camp.”
Kavi Taa felt the pressure from the Dread Masters. It was quite different from the Emperor’s. Or rather, it held only one component—the dread. It did not have the allure of his presence, that fascinating, twinkling whisper that had made her abandon herself. Her new partner, Bengel Morr, wasn’t here yet. She hoped he’d be as fun to be around as Xzhael. She rubbed her belly absent-mindedly. She’d given birth to a healthy child three weeks ago, and given it up only given it up this morning. She felt no sense of attachment to it, no sense of loss. She didn’t even know if it was a boy, or girl. In fact, she felt nothing except for a deep sense of dissatisfaction.
She’d joined Braga’s mission with the dream that she’d become the greatest Jedi of the age. And while some might argue that being sent out to stop the Dread Masters counted as an elite Jedi’s assignment, she knew she was merely here to clean up a mess of her own making. There would be few rewards for this mission. No recognition. Not at all like killing the Emperor would’ve done.
A part of her also lingered on all the people she’d killed during her time as a Fang. Despite herself, she felt bad about it. So many killed by her hand, and so many more who were dying every day. What did it all serve? Was this all there was to the Force? Kill, kill, kill, and kill?
There is no death. There is only the Force.
The thought quieted her thoughts as she began exploring the camp. There was little to find here, except soldiers very much on edge, but every so often, she found an incongruous toy, jewel, or decoration which caught her eye for a quarter hour.
*
?????
In the depths of nothingness, the Emperor’s spirit waited. Something had gone wrong, and he didn’t know what. Had he gotten caught up in the fading vestiges of his own spell? Was such a thing possible? It had to be. There was no other explanation for what was happening.
This fragment of his soul was caught up in a Palace of Horrors, a rather peculiar version of it.
For one thing, there was nothing here out to get him, just an endless maze of hallways.
And for another, he could tell that the time flow was inverted; it flowed faster outside than in, something he was certain he could only tell because he’d cast this trap. How fast? He didn’t know. Perhaps, when he broke free, he’d awaken in a world that had forgotten him, which would make his return easier. Perhaps he could rise again in a galaxy completely oblivious to his existence. Be ignored as he maneuvered his pieces into place. But what if the reverse happened? What if Devarath passed on what he’d learned, and ensured that others lived who knew how to face him? What if he emerged centuries later, to find a galaxy that could destroy him utterly?
Worse still; what if his true essence gave up on him? Cut him off? Allowed him to fade away when he broke free? Worst of all; what if his true essence was found and killed? He had never considered the possibility before, but Devarath had put the fear of extinction into his quaking soul.
The possibilities frightened him. Uncertainty was the most terrifying thing in the galaxy, right alongside its specialized sibling: death. This was why he chased after immortality, for one never knew what tomorrow brought. He didn’t think he’d break free any time soon. He grudgingly accepted that he had no other recourse but to pray that his other avatars could avenge him. Or, in the worst-case scenario, that his true body could survive.
*
Unknown
Any visitor would know at once this world was a pinnacle of technological progress and architectural excellence. Towers rose up from the ground, rising all the way to space, where hundreds upon hundreds of the most advanced warships in the galaxy were on patrol, keeping the paradise world below safe.
If one went below, they would find the most opulent cities, and the most prosperous people.
Inside one of these tall, tall spires, a handsome, bearded man with deep eyes that blazed like yellow-and-orange voids and dressed in rich, ceremonial robes, sat on a high-backed throne. He was deeply troubled. For the first time ever, he’d lost contact with another avatar completely. It wasn’t destroyed, he knew that much. But it was trapped, and it had raised such a racket in its final moments that he found a great deal of this body’s power had been leeched away, as well. He realized that he had lost many of his signature abilities, including the one to enthrall his servants and enemies.
He didn’t know why, and he felt very threatened.
The doors opposite the throne parted. A pair of identical men walked in, one in ebony-colored robes, the other in ivory. Both kept their hair cropped extremely short. They marched past the double rank of gold-clad Knights with pikes and shields in hand, and knelt down before the great throne.
“You summoned us, Father?”
“Yes. It seems I have a new enemy. A Jedi, unless I’m mistaken.”
“Would you like me to go after him?” the man in white asked eagerly.
“This threat is beyond your modest ability to handle. Your life is mine. Do not think to throw it away so easily. No, your brother will find out everything he can about this incident. You on the other hand… I have a special task for you as well.”
They both replied in unison. “Command me, Father.”
“You will retrieve your Sister from her cloister. Prepare her for reintroduction into society. And see to it that she has learned her lesson. See to it, that she knows how to obey.”
“I—yes, Father.”
“I have also increased production of soldiers and ships. We go to war within the decade, before we are discovered. After both the Sith and the Republic are sufficiently weakened fighting each other.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You have your orders. Now go.”
*