Darth Cain, the Reluctant Sith Lord

by Zahariel_Scholar

Summary:

Some time between TPM and ATC, a hyperdrive malfunction results in the return of a long-lost ship from the ancient Sith Empire, carrying the dreaded Darth Cain, whose reputation in the Old Republic was matched only by his imposter syndrome. Needless to say, this throws a wrench into the plans of Darth Sidious …
TVTropes page : https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/DarthCainTheReluctantSithLord

Chapter 1: Return

Perlia was at war, and it was losing.

Three days ago, a coalition of several Outer Rim pirate warbands had arrived in the Outer Rim system, proclaiming their intents to pillage its wealth and promising terrible fates to all who attempted to resist them. The Perlia system fleet and orbital defenses had put up a valiant fight, but faced with far superior numbers, they had eventually been defeated.

Now, raiding parties were rampaging across the planet, stealing valuables and people alike, leaving death and destruction in their wake. Members of Perlia's law enforcement, laughably outgunned, did their best to defend their people, but they could do little but die against the pirates, who were armed to the teeth with weaponry from all across the Outer Rim.

Then, all of a sudden, something changed. On the bridges of over fifty pirate ships, officers cried out in alarm as a new signal appeared on their screens, dropping out of hyperspace deep within the system.

A new ship had arrived. It was larger than any vessel anyone in the system had ever seen, save for the immense cargo-haulers which carried immense quantities of raw materials across the stars. But this was no merchant ship : even a cursory glance was enough to make its martial nature clear. It was shaped like a wedge, with a split in the middle creating two prongs. Hundreds of gun emplacements dotted its surface, along with a main cannon larger than most of the pirate ships.

For a moment, the raider armada was frozen in shock, unable to accept the reality their sensors were presenting to them. Then, a message was broadcast for all in the system to hear :

"Unidentified vessels, this is Commodore Kasteen of the Imperial superdreadnought Invincible. You are trespassing within the Perlia system, and have been caught committing criminal acts against its population. In the name of Cain, power down your shields, weapons and engines immediately and prepare to be boarded, or face annihilation. As for your forces on the planet, they are to cease their depredations at once and either return to orbit or stand their ground and submit themselves to arrest by the lawful authorities. You have ten minutes to comply."

Predictably, chaos ensued. All attempts to hail the Invincible, whether to question or threaten, were met with silence, or a recording of the same message in the former case. Frantic exchanges took place among the pirates, as raiding parties hastily withdrew from the planet and back to their ships.

The coordination the pirates had displayed when taking on Perlia's defenders was nowhere to be seen, having started to fragment while they pursued their own goals by pillaging the planet, only for fear at the sight of the Invincible to finish breaking it apart.

Then, right on the ten minutes dot, the superdreadnought opened fire.

---

On the bridge of the Invincible, Vaylin, once the High Justice of the Eternal Empire, firstborn daughter of Valkorion the Eternal Emperor, watched as her Teacher (not her Master, not her Master, she would never have a Master again, he'd promised) led them through this madness they had suddenly found themselves thrown into.

Despite the fact none of them had expected to find Perlia under attack on their arrival, or that the Invincible's hyperdrive had glitched the moment they had entered hyperspace, Darth Cain was perfectly serene, an island of calm and control amidst the agitation of the bridge. Clad in his black and red Imperial armor, his lightsaber hanging from his belt, he cut an imposing figure even at rest.

Looking upon him now, it was easy to see why he had been a candidate to ascend to the Dark Council as the head of their Sphere of Military Offense, even if he had eventually rejected the offer to focus on his own projects without the meddling of the rest of the Council. His robotic aide, JURG-N, stood at his right side, ever ready to serve him tea or bring death to his enemies – the advanced combat droid, whose services Cain had obtained during one of his many past adventures, cared not one way or the other.

For anyone else, naming their flagship the Invincible would have been a sign of hubris, a challenge to the Fates that could not possibly go unanswered. And yet, since leaving the shipyards of Perlia, the superdreadnought had fought against the ships of the Republic, rival Sith Lords, and even the automated armada of the Eternal Throne, and survived them all.

Swarms of Supremacy-II class fighters were flying out of the hangar bays in hunting formations. From what Vaylin had heard, the fighters' modified design had been created by Imperial scientists at Darth Cain's command after he'd led a squadron of the standard type to victory against the Republic over Adumbria, in order to make them more effective in battle, as well as safer for their pilots. Most Sith would have considered the latter a waste of resources, but as her Teacher was fond of saying, a fighter could be replaced far more easily than a trained Imperial Navy pilot.

At the same time, troop transports were flying toward Perlia, bringing soldiers to reinforce the beleaguered local defenders against the raiders. Having seen the men and women under her Teacher's command fight, Vaylin wouldn't have bet on the planet-side pirates' odds of surviving the next few hours.

"The technicians have finished their analysis of the star field, my lord," called out Commodore Kasteen, drawing Vaylin's attention back to her immediate surroundings.

Something was wrong, Vaylin realized at once. She had seen Kasteen order the Invincible into the teeth of the Eternal Fleet, side by side with the Gravestone, and she hadn't looked half as disturbed then as she did now. The Commodore was ashen-faced, and almost trembling.

"Have they figured out the reason why it does not match our records ?" asked the Sith Lord.

"Yes, they have. It … It is because the stars themselves have moved, lord. We … we have arrived approximately three and half thousand years after we entered hyperspace."

Stunned silence descended on the bridge. Even Vaylin found herself reeling. Three and a half thousand years. It was … it was impossible. Surely someone had made a mistake. But her Teacher only employed the best of the Imperial Navy on his flagship, regardless of their political or social standing. Besides, what else could explain the presence of pirates in Perlia, the domain of Darth Cain, one of the most feared Sith Lords of the Empire ? How else would these scum dare risk his wrath ?

Then another realization hit her. Her brother was dead. Any hope she had privately held of one day reconciling with Arcann after their bitter parting was lost, because there was no way he had survived this long. She would never have the chance to explain to him why she had disobeyed his orders to bomb planets to dust in order to draw his enemies out of hiding, never be able to reconnect with him and be a proper family, free of their progenitor's manipulations. She was surprised by how much that thought disturbed her.

Then her Teacher spoke, his voice dragging her out of her spiralling thoughts.

"I see," he said, sounding just as calm as ever, and Vaylin took a deep breath, trying to emulate his fortitude. "That explains this attack, at least. The Empire must have left Perlia long ago. We will have to learn all that has transpired in our absence, but our immediate course remains unchanged. Perlia is mine, and I will not have this vermin think they can plunder it. Is that clear ?"

With that last word, a cold shiver ran down the spines of everyone on the bridge, Vaylin included, as Darth Cain employed the smallest measure of his great power to shake the crew out of their shock and return their focus to the task at hand.

"Yes, my lord !" replied Kasteen, saluting on reflex.

And just like that, Cain had dispelled the doubt and shock of the crew, replacing them with cold determination and fear of his displeasure. Vaylin was once more in awe of how easy he made it look, especially since, ever since she'd become his Apprentice, she'd never known him to indulge in the making of examples which his peers (and herself before she had deserted the Eternal Empire, a small voice whispered) used to keep their subordinates in line.

Outside, the one-sided battle continued. For several minutes, Vaylin watched as, one by one, the pirate ships were torn apart. Compared to the space battles she had witnessed before, this barely qualified as a skirmish, but she still found it a pleasant sight. Then one of the bridge crew called out :

"My lord, we have broken through the enemy encryptions." The main holographic display shifted to show one of the pirate vessels. "Based on our analysis, this is the command ship of the enemy fleet, although these pirate scum lack a proper chain of command."

"Good work, Officer Tarkus. Continue monitoring their communications. Vaylin ?"

She didn't jump when he called her name, but she definitely stood a little bit straighter.

"Yes, Teacher ?"

"I am curious to know what exactly the purpose behind this deplorable attack was," said Darth Cain, his voice no different that if they were discussing the weather. "And that ship might contain valuable intel in that regard. I am going over there to have a chat with our uninvited guests; might I trouble you to accompany me ?"

"Of course, Teacher," she replied, smiling. She always loved how he was careful to phrase his commands as requests instead of orders – he didn't need to, she wouldn't disobey him, but the fact that he cared enough to go out of his way to avoid reminding her of her kriffhead of a progenitor was nice. "It will be my pleasure."

"Good. Commodore Kasteen, you have command in my absence. Have a squad meet us in the hangar at my personal shuttle."

With that, Cain briskly walked out of the bridge, Vaylin and JURG-N (there had been no question the droid would accompany the Sith Lord) following on his heels. As they left, Vaylin couldn't help but smile. It wasn't often that she got the chance to show off for her Teacher : she could already tell she was going to enjoy this.

---

Captain Varan of the Dread Son, notorious pirate lord of the Outer Rim and secret Dark Side acolyte, watched with growing dread as the fleet he'd spent so long assembling was systematically torn apart by the biggest kriffing ship he had ever seen. Months of building up his reputation among the outlaws of the Outer Rim, of leading raids on merchant convoys whose paths had been fed to him by his master, of using the secrets he'd been taught to bend the weak wills of the other pirates to his own, were all coming apart before his eyes. And, try as he might, he couldn't think of any way to stop it.

Swarms of fighters had emerged from the ship, and promptly wiped the floor with the pirates' own squadrons. It hadn't even been a fight : whoever these 'Imperials' were, their pilots were good, and so were their fighters. Then there was the ship's own main gun, which was powerful enough to tear through the pirates' shields like cheap flimsy, each shot turning another craft to pieces, while their own fire couldn't seem to make so much as a dent in the newcomer's shields.

Already, some pirate ships were making a run for it, despite all of Varan's efforts over the radio to convince them to stay. Not that it was doing them much good : the fighters were focusing their efforts on the ships trying to flee, crippling their engines and leaving them dead in the void.

Where in all the Correlian Hells had this thing come from ?! He had never even heard of something that size !

Had his master known about this ? Surely not. If he had, then he'd have told Varan, right ? Unless … unless that was the plan all along ? To have him gather all the pirate crews of the region in one place, so that the Invincible could kill them all, all in pursuit of some goal Varan could only guess at ? It was certainly possible (Varan was under no illusion as to the kind of man he served), but then, why would his master have given such specific orders to Varan regarding the ancient treasures that were rumored to still lie hidden on Perlia ? No, this all must be a coincidence.

Although in the short term, the distinction was academic anyway. The Dread Son had managed to avoid drawing the Invincible's guns for now, but sooner or later the leviathan of the void would run out of closer, more obvious targets.

"Captain," called out one of the bridge crew, who would probably be on the verge of panic if not for the fact that, like the rest of the ship's essential personnel, Varan had long since crushed his will, leaving just enough of the man's mind intact to do his job and act the part of the terrified crew mate whenever the captain had guests onboard. "We have boarders in the main hangar."

"What ?!" Varan ran to the man's station, pushing him aside to look at the holo showing the hangar bay of the Dread Son.

A shuttle had landed there (and, just like the monstrous ship, it was not of any model Varan recognized), easily finding place now that most of the ship's fighter complement had been reduced to stellar dust. As he watched, a squad of soldiers in a kind of armor he had never seen before emerged from the transport, cutting down the people in the hangar with merciless precision – but Varan spared them no second thought, focused instead on the next silhouette to come out of the boarding craft.

His blood ran cold as he saw the unmistakable image of a lightsaber in the hands of a tall human woman. Then his heart nearly stopped as she glanced at the camera, and he swore she was looking right at him, before she made a gesture with her left hand and the feed died.

Immediately, Varan activated the internal comms.

"All hands, we've been boarded. All of you who can carry a blaster, move to the hangar and deal with them !"

Most of his men were still on Perlia, but there were still a lot of them aboard, all of them bloodied veterans. And he had kept his own personal squad of enforcers close by – no pirate captain survived long without a group of thugs whose loyalty he could rely on more consistently than the rest of his crew's. He sent them all toward the landing bay to drown the boarders with superior numbers.

It didn't make a single bit of difference. Watching through the Dread Son's security system, in the brief snippets before (for some reason) every camera was destroyed, it was like something out of a horror holo. Dozens of men, whom he had led through numerous raids against the toughest customers of the Rim, were cut down like weeds. The soldiers advanced behind her with practiced ease, taking shots whenever an opening presented itself. Varan was no military expert, but he was good at reading people, and even through the video feed, he felt that the soldiers were wary of their lightsaber-wielding leader, keeping their distance from her even as they followed her deeper into the ship. That had to mean something, but what, he didn't know.

Briefly, he considered the bridge's escape pods, but where could he go ? Every other ship in the flotilla had either been destroyed or run away. With how many fighters were still in the void, there was no chance of the pods going unnoticed.

Which meant he couldn't eject in Perlia. But elsewhere …

"Seal the bridge !" he ordered, and the heavy, void-proof doors slammed shut. The doors were thick enough that even a lightsaber couldn't penetrate all the way – that should buy them some time.

"Get us out of here," he ordered the pilot. "Hyperspace jump to the closest inhabited system as soon as possible."

Once they were out of Perlia, he'd activate the ship's self-destruct and eject. Recouping his losses and explaining himself to his master would be difficult, but at least he'd be alive to try –

Suddenly, the blast doors buckled, as if struck by some impossible weight. Varan froze on the spot, before a second and third impact made him turn to look at the doors, just in time to see them ripped apart, as if seized by some large, invisible claws.

The woman who had ripped through his crew stalked through the wreckage, her lightsaber held low. Now that he was seeing her in person instead of through the security system, Varan could see that she was pale-skinned, yellow-eyed and dark-haired. More importantly, her lightsaber's blade shone a vibrant gold. He had never heard of a Jedi's blade being of that particular color, but it wasn't like he'd met many of the Republic's self-righteous, holier-than-you enforcers before.

"You are this ship's captain, aren't you ?" she asked, raising her weapon in his direction.

"I am," he replied, seeing no point in lying. "Captain Varan, at your service."

"Is that so ?" She looked amused, not at all worried with the half-dozen blasters the rest of the bridge crew were aiming in her direction – but then, after what he'd seen her do on the way there, Varan hadn't expected her to be. "I suppose I should introduce myself as well. I am Vaylin."

"Well, Miss Vaylin. You don't want to hurt me," Varan said, pouring every bit of power he possessed into the words. If he could just make this work, even for just a second, then maybe, just maybe, he could get out of this. "I am your friend. You want to turn off your lightsaber and let me go –"

But instead of relaxing in the usual lack of expression that indicated his control had taken hold, the woman's face distorted into a grimace of rage.

"How dare you try to get into my mind !" she roared, and leapt forward, crossing the entire bridge in a single jump, before slashing with her golden blade.

Varan drew his vibro-blade just in time to block a strike that would have decapitated him, thanking the Force that he'd gone to the trouble of having it treated with a cortosis weave so that it could block a lightsaber without being cut into pieces. He fell back, barely dodging out of the way of another blow that instead cut a console in two, sending sparks flying.

"Vaylin," called out a deep voice from behind the broken gates. "Enough."

The snarling madwoman paused. Then she lowered her lightsaber and stepped back. Varan would have felt relieved, if not for the smirk that had replaced her snarl, and the feeling in his guts that his troubles had only just begun.

An unnatural stillness descended on the bridge as a tall figure passed through the broken gates. With each armored footstep, the temperature seemed to drop, until Varan was shivering in his armor. The lights appeared to dim, and every fiber of the pirate's body was screaming at him to run, get away, get away get away get away –

The figure resolved itself into the image of a man, clad in black and crimson armor. He looked at Varan with yellow eyes in the same disinterested way Varan would've looked at an insect, before glancing down at the vibro-blade he was still holding.

"Are you a swordsman, Captain Varan ?" he asked, in a voice overflowing with implied threat, every word sending new spikes of terror down Varan's spine.

His heart was racing, his head was pounding, his body was trembling with fright. It was all he could do to stay up : across the bridge, his mind-controlled crew were already falling to their knees, moaning in terror, their already battered minds unable to withstand this, this monstrous presence, this all-consuming fear.

"No answer ? Hmm. Very well. I suppose I will have to see for myself."

With a crack-hiss, the man drew his own lightsaber, a crimson blade that cast baleful shadows across the bridge, and though he wouldn't have thought it possible, Varan's fear spiked even higher.

"Defend yourself, pirate," said the man, before going on the offensive, moving across the bridge like a hungry void-wraith.

Varan's survival instincts overpowered his terror barely in time for him to block the first blow, but the strength behind it was so strong his grip on the vibro-blade's hilt almost slipped. Soon, he found himself forced to give ground as his opponent kept up an unrelenting torrent of attacks, never giving Varan the slightest opening to strike back.

The rest of the bridge faded away, until there was only Varan and his foe, who seemed to grow taller, stronger, and more terrible with every blow. Varan's muscles burned with effort, and it seemed as if he'd been fighting for hours, even though it couldn't have been more than a handful of seconds. Some part of Varan's mind, the part that wasn't either gibbering in terror or focused on survival, noted that the monster was clearly holding back, seeing what he could do, toying with him.

"Mediocre," said the specter in black and red, sounding bored. "I have seen enough."

Before Varan could respond, the red lightsaber suddenly twisted. The pirate screamed in agony as his right hand fell to the deck, severed at the wrist. Then he froze, as the very blade that had cut off his limb drew near to his throat. Varan blinked, and the blackness that had enveloped his vision slowly faded away, revealing the rest of the bridge, with the other lightsaber wielder and the troopers who'd followed her through his ship walking across the deck, taking over the consoles, while a droid stood at the command station, one hand connected to the main console through a series of digital ports.

They had taken his ship, and he couldn't gather the energy to care.

"Now, Captain Varan," said the dark warrior. "I have questions for you, and you would be wise to answer them."

Despite the pain, or perhaps because of it, Varan suddenly realized what it was he was facing, what his brain had refused to recognize until now. The power of the Dark Side radiated from the man like a dark star, stronger than anything he had ever encountered. Stronger, perhaps, than his master, a treacherous part of his brain whispered.

"You … you aren't a Jedi," he muttered through teeth clenched with pain, his eyes fluttering wildly from one lightsaber-wielder to the other. "Neither of you are."

"What was your first clue ?" mocked the man. "The ship I came to this system with ? The color of my blade ? No, Varan. I am no Jedi."

"I am Darth Cain, Lord of the ancient Sith Empire," he proclaimed, and Varan felt the very Force shiver at the words, as if the galaxy itself had heard them, and nothing would ever be the same for their speaking. "And by attacking Perlia, you have earned my wrath, for I once swore an oath to protect this world. And though many years have passed since then, that oath remains as important to me as it was on the day I swore it. Now, tell me why you came here. Was it only greed that motivated you, or something else ?"

"I … I …"

"Answer him," growled Vaylin. It was strange, thought Varan : mere moments ago, he'd been terrified of the young woman, yet now, he couldn't muster the energy to be afraid of her at all. Still, there was power behind her words : his panicked thoughts were forced together, compelling him to obey just like he'd compelled hundreds to do his bidding – albeit with none of the subtlety he'd used on most of his victims to prevent them or their allies from realizing anything was wrong.

"The other warbands came for plunder, for treasures and slaves to sell to the Hutts," he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "But they came here because I gathered them for the raid, and I did that because I was ordered to ! My master told me to attack this world, and to use the raid as cover to take the old artefacts that are stored in the capital's museum !"

"Treasures and slaves," repeated Darth Cain, his voice flat yet still threatening. "I see. And who is this master of yours, Varan ?"

"I – I don't know his real name, but he called himself Darth Sidious in our exchanges !"

Cain actually raised an eyebrow at that, looking surprised for the first time. Vaylin was much more expressive, letting out a string of words in a language Varan didn't recognize, but didn't need to to know they were probably profanities.

"'Darth' Sidious," repeated Cain, speaking slowly, as if tasting the name. "Are you certain of this ?"

"Yes !" Varan clung to the glimmer of hope that was suddenly thrown before him like a drowning man to a plank of wood. It seemed his master really hadn't sent him to die after all. "And he won't like you killing me !"

At that, Cain laughed, and the slight hope his reaction to Sidious' title had rekindled in Varan melted away like snow on Tatooine.

"Oh, you miserable kriffhead. You think I care about that ? You have no idea how many Darths I have killed before. Now tell me, how do you contact him ?"

"I don't !" Varan blurted out. It obviously wasn't what Cain wanted to hear, but Varan was too afraid of him to even think of lying. "He is the one who contacts me !"

"Then you are of no use to me," said Cain, his expression hardening, and he walked toward Varan.

"I – I told you everything you wanted to know !" Varan begged, still clutching the stump of his right hand.

"And for that," said Darth Cain, "I grant you a quicker death than you deserve for your crimes against Perlia."

Before the pirate could say anything more, the red lightsaber flashed, and Varan's head rolled off his shoulders, the last spark of his consciousness fading away before it hit the deck.

---

Well, I was properly karked now.

With Varan dealt with, Vaylin and I returned to the Invincible, leaving the Dread Son in the hands of the reinforcements Kasteen had sent to help secure our hold over it. The bridge crew had passed out with their captain's demise, and given how badly he'd messed with their minds I wasn't confident they would ever wake up, but I'd ordered them to be taken care of. If nothing else, studying the effects of prolonged Force manipulation on someone's brain could be useful, which was one silver lining on the calamitous, world-wrecking storm cloud that was this whole mess.

As our shuttle flew back to my flagship, I looked back at how I had ended in this situation. After Emperor Vitiate had finally died for good (or so everyone hoped, given that it hadn't exactly stuck the last two – or had it been three ? – times), I had looked forward to enjoying a peaceful retirement on Perlia. I could see the writing on the wall : the Sith Empire was doomed to crumble, no matter what the Dark Council tried to keep it together. Then the Republic would sweep through our territories, but hopefully the kudos I'd earned with them by avoiding committing war crimes under the guise of 'maintaining my honor', helping deal with the Eternal Throne and Vitiate's attempts at resurrecting himself would be enough no one would call for my execution, so long as I agreed to disappear in a nice villa somewhere.

Then the Invincible's hyperdrive had malfunctioned (or been sabotaged, it wasn't entirely clear, and probably wouldn't ever be cleared up now), and now here we were, back to Perlia at last, over thirty centuries later. How exactly this was possible, I didn't know : no doubt the engineers would be able to come up with some kind of techno-nonsense to explain it. Myself, I strongly suspected this was yet another proof that the Force had it out for me.

And to top it all off, I had just killed the servant of some other Sith Lord I had never heard about (although, come to think of it, that was probably for the best : given how much time had passed, the prospect of facing a Sith Lord I had heard about was even more terrifying).

Not that I'd much of a choice : it wasn't as if Varan would know anything important about this Darth Sidious. If he was at all competent (and any Sith who claimed the title of Darth was competent, present company excepted), then Sidious would've made sure his pawn didn't know anything compromising. And in the few moments I'd spent with Varan, his talent for bending the minds of others using the Force had been obvious, so keeping him prisoner would have been more trouble than he was worth. I was lucky he hadn't tried it on me : all he'd have needed was a few seconds, and he might have exposed me for the fraud I really was, right in front of Vaylin, who wouldn't have taken the revelation well to say the least. Of course, Vaylin herself had never needed to worry about Varan getting into her head : she'd beaten off far more powerful manipulators.

Vaylin. My 'Apprentice', nevermind that she was so much more powerful in the Force than I, what with being the daughter of Valkorion, Emperor Vitiate's latest (and, if the Force willed it, final) host body. I still had no idea what exactly she'd been thinking when she had come to Perlia after her brother's defeat at the hands of the Alliance's Commander and asked me for asylum.

Sure, I had managed not to collapse into a gibbering mess begging for mercy when she had come to Perlia a few years before at the head of an Eternal Throne's subjugation fleet. I hadn't been able to come up with an excuse not to meet her in person to surrender (which, given how it had only taken Zakuul's forces a few months to conquer the entire bloody galaxy, had been the only sensible choice, something my subordinates had thankfully been all to aware of), and fortunately years of keeping up appearances in front of other Sith Lords had allowed me to maintain my façade of calm in her presence.

But that didn't explain why she'd felt I could help her deal with the frankly absurd amount of trauma her father had inflicted upon her. Still, since having the Emperor's daughter continue to be a violently unhinged psychopath wasn't in anyone's interests (especially mine, since she was in the same system as me), I had done my best to assist her (genuine, to my own unstated surprise) efforts to recover from her less-than-stellar 'education'. Really, undoing years of brainwashing and outright torture was something I felt the Jedi Order would probably have been better suited for, but I was the one Vaylin trusted, for some Force-forsaken reason, so I was stuck with her.

And, to be honest, I had been pleasantly surprised by the results, even if I still had to be very careful not to slip and reveal my true character in her presence. She wasn't anything I would call sane yet, but she was doing much better than when she'd first declared herself my Apprentice (without asking me, apparently taking my acceptance as guaranteed).

Unfortunately, Vaylin was far from being the only one I needed to worry about aboard the Invincible, although she was definitely the most dangerous by a considerable margin. The ten-kilometers long superdreadnought was home to tens of thousands of Imperial citizens. The naval crew alone was around fifty thousand, if I remembered correctly, and I knew exactly how many of its military complement had survived our last deployment : ninety-seven thousand, five hundred and sixty-seven, and that was without counting the combat droids.

And each and every single one of them had a gun. In fact, many of them had a lot more than that, and if they decided to use them on me, I was doomed. Fortunately, in all my years as a reluctant agent of the Empire, I had gone to considerable lengths to avoid developing the kind of reputation most of my peers had among the Imperial Army. While I was perfectly willing to sacrifice soldiers to save my own skin, I'd kept that fact from them, and avoided throwing their lives away in pointless displays of power and intimidation, both because that left me with less troopers to hide behind when the blasters started firing and because I wanted their blasters to be aimed at the enemy, not me.

Under normal circumstances, I would have been confident the soldiers aboard the Invincible would follow my commands without question – they had done so through all the crazy nonsense that had preceded our little hyperdrive mishap, after all. But these were far from ordinary circumstances. I would have to tread very carefully to avoid a mutiny.

Apart from enough soldiers to conquer and hold an entire star system, there was a bunch of Sith Acolytes aboard the Invincible : Dark Side neonates who had fled the rest of the Empire for various reasons and come to Perlia seeking my protection and patronage. There was also the squad of Mandalorians who were convinced that they owed me a debt of honor that could only be repaid by following me around and fighting alongside me. Personally, I was convinced that was just an excuse the battle-maniacs were using to stick with me, having caught on to the stroke of bad luck which had caused me to fight for my life more times than I was comfortable thinking about. While neither group was as powerful as Vaylin or as numerous as the common troopers, I still needed to keep them in mind if I wanted to survive this mess.

The Invincible had all the facilities required to produce armaments for the military complement on board, so long as it was provided with raw materials. When designing the ship, I had let the architects go as overboard as they liked, since the whole thing had been a ploy to spend the resources that seemingly always ended up falling into my hands whenever I was forced to risk my life for the glory of the Empire. After all, if those resources were tied up in the dreaded Darth Cain's personal project, then nobody would ask for them in order to fund their own personal projects, which would help get me less involved in my esteemed peers' nonsense.

I had been very proud of the idea at the time, only for the superdreadnought's construction, which had begun a few months before the Treaty of Coruscant, to finish right in time to join the fight against the Eternal Empire. People had assumed I had been planning to do so all along, and disillusioning them would have resulted in me having to face the wrath of the Alliance Commander – a Jedi who had managed to journey to Dromund Kaas itself and kill the Emperor's Voice. So, not someone I wanted angry with me.

Well, at least it meant I had a solid base of operation in this new galaxy, I consoled myself as I entered the command bridge and sat back on my throne, which gave me a view of the entire bridge while also being out of the way of the people who actually knew a damn thing about running things.

"The pirates have been dealt with, my lord," saluted Commodore Kasteen. "Commander Broklaw reports that our forces on the ground have rooted out the last of the criminals who were trapped planetside when their accomplices fled or died."

"Thank you, Commodore," I replied. "Now, do we have any new information about the galactic situation ?"

One of the data-analysts hesitantly stood up. I nodded at her, and she began her report :

"We have been able to access the Holonet and comb through publicly available historical records," said the analyst. "My lord, the Empire has … has fallen. It fell thousands of years ago. It's gone. What … what are we going to do ?"

Truth be told, I didn't really care about the fall of the Empire – in fact, the disappearance of the Dark Council and all the other Sith Lords who had constantly tried to get me killed was perhaps the singular silver lining in this whole mess – but I couldn't let it show. The ship's officers were genuine patriots : for some reason I'd never understood, they had willingly dedicated themselves to a system where they would forever be second-class citizens, under a theocracy of mad sorcerers who spent their time backstabbing each other even in the middle of a galactic war. Revealing how little the Empire had mattered to me would be suicide.

So it was time for another performance. Thinking of what would happen to me if the truth got out, I drew upon the Dark Side, weaving my fear around me like a cloak, using the Force trick which had saved my hide so many times before. The bridge's temperature plummeted, and crew members recoiled – although Kasteen herself stood her ground, showing the backbone which had earned her command of the Invincible despite being a woman in the male-dominated Imperial Navy.

"I see," I said curtly, letting the Dark Side fall away as if I had just reined in my temper. "And what of the Republic ?"

"The Republic still stands," the analyst replied. "Nowadays, it is the primary galactic state, with the Hutts the closest thing to a rival power."

"The Hutts," I sighed theatrically. "Truly the mighty have fallen. Very well. Return to your post, and continue investigating the situation. I will expect a full report later."

"Yes, my lord !" saluted the analyst, before sitting back down at her station, no doubt immensely relieved I hadn't choked her to death for the crime of delivering bad news like so many Sith Lords would have, no matter how pointless and self-defeating it would have been.

"My lord," called out another operator – this one working on the comms, if I remembered the bridge's setup correctly. "We are being hailed by the local government. They are asking to speak with you."

Given that, from their perspective, we had just arrived out of nowhere with a ridiculously huge ship and swatted the invaders they'd had so much trouble with like a bunch of flies, I could well understand why the locals would want to talk with me. Well, 'want' was perhaps too strong a word. 'Need' was probably closer to the truth.

Until the Invincible's hyperdrive was repaired (or, preferably, completely replaced, as I would rather avoid being hurled even further into the future), we were stuck in Perlia.

"Open the channel," I ordered, and within a few seconds, the image of a middle-aged man in the kind of elaborate costume only career politicians across the galaxy could get away with appeared in the main holo in front of me.

For a few seconds, he simply looked at me, eyes wide, and I wondered if the transmission had frozen – then he shook himself, and I realized he had just been surprised to see me for some reason, despite being the one who had initiated the call

"Lord Cain," the man said, bowing deeply. "I am Lio Trevellyan, Regent of Perlia. It is a great honor to witness your return, and all of Perlia rejoices at your timely arrival."

"Well met, Regent," I replied. "I assure you, it was our pleasure to assist you in dealing with this incursion. But I had thought that Perlia would have been happy to forget its time under the Empire."

"My lord," the Regent hastily protested, "I swear to you it isn't so. Though it has been many years, and the details have sadly been lost to us, we still remember how you liberated us from the corrupt dynasty that ruled this planet before the coming of the Empire. Yes, we rejoined the Republic, but that was only because you were gone. And now that you are returned, it is my duty and privilege to fulfill the ancient oath of my family and return control of Perlia to you."

Force, I realized, he was serious. The title of 'Regent', which I had thought was just a local custom (I'd certainly encountered stranger ways to call a planet's ultimate authority), must be rooted in that oath – if it even existed and Trevellyan wasn't lying to me, but I felt confident he wouldn't try such an obvious and easy to spot lie so early.

How bad was the situation on Perlia that he was willing to just hand over control of an entire planet to me ?! No, I needed to be calm about this. From his perspective, the pirates may be gone, but there was still the largest military ship he'd ever seen left in the system. And if Perlia remembered anything of the Empire, then making his surrender as clear as possible was the smartest move he could make – although I was a little hurt the Perlians remembered me as another of the Empire's ham-fisted tyrants, who needed to be appeased with such blatant brown-nosing as Trevellyan was doing now.

Sure, I was under no illusion that I'd been a great ruler for Perlia in the years after I'd been forced to conquer it for the Empire, but I took solace in the knowledge that I'd definitely been better than any other Sith Lord would've been.

"I see," I said. "This is pleasant news to be sure; we will need to discuss matters in person soon. My entourage and I shall make planetfall soon : please prepare to receive us. We'll contact you with the details later."

"Yes, my lord," he bowed again. "We will make sure to prepare a reception worthy of someone of your standing."

And Force, couldn't that be interpreted in a multitude of ways. I could already tell my paranoia wouldn't let me relax at all once I was on Perlia, just in case someone decided that assassinating me was the best way to avoid having the planet back under the rule of a Sith Lord – nevermind that I was pretty sure that my death would cause far more trouble for Perlia in the long run, since I wouldn't be here to restrain the fanatics under my nominal command.

As the comms officer shut down the Regent's transmission, I addressed him :

"Open a channel to the entire ship, please. I think it's time I talk to our people."

"You're on, my lord," he told me after a few seconds of pressing buttons and flicking switches.

Silence fell on the bridge as the officers listened intently, curious as to what I was going to say. Much to my discomfort, I had gathered something of a reputation for making speeches in the (now distant) past, and while it had helped save my life on numerous occasions, the notion of lying to tens of thousands of people at the same time was still nerve-wracking.

Once again, I poured my fear into the Force, and forced myself to go on :

"People of the Invincible, this is Darth Cain speaking.

By now, you have probably realized that something strange has happened to us all. How else could Perlia be under attack, when all in the galaxy knew it was under our protection ?

The answer is simple. Because everyone thought that we were dead, and Perlia was defenceless.

You are all aware of the malfunction that struck our hyperdrive when we left our last battle. Its origins remain a mystery, but while our engineers managed to save us all from annihilation, it still resulted in us arriving at our destination over three and a half thousand years after our departure.

The Empire is long since gone, and only the Republic remains in known space. According to the exchange I have just had with the local authorities, the last of the Sith were wiped out by the Jedi a thousand years ago – though I have reason to suspect that is only what the Republic believes.

The war we have fought all of our lives is over, my friends. Now is the time for us to look to the future.

The coming days will be hard on all of us, of this there is no question. Everything we knew is gone, and for many of you, that includes your friends and families. But remember, you aren't alone in this dread hour. You have your comrades by your side, and you have me standing with you. Our oaths to one another remain unbroken, as unaffected by the passage of millennia as our own flesh.

I promise you, we will rise to this unprecedented challenge. Already the Regent of Perlia has recognized my authority, and the people of this system, grateful for our help against the pirate scum, have welcomed us back after our long absence.

Together, we will chart a course in these strange waters, to survival, triumph, glory, and beyond !"

With a gesture to the comms officer, I ended the broadcast, feeling confident that little speech should be enough to keep the troops from turning against me until I figured out my next step through this mess, only to find the entire bridge crew standing at attention, looking at me with something uncomfortably close to adoration in their eyes.

I blinked, surprised, but was spared from having to process the unexpected sight when JURG-N approached me. There were very few people I would have let get so close to me without going for my lightsaber, but the hyper-advanced combat droid with a protocol droid core was one of them.

"Sir, news from the medbay," he whispered into my ear. "Knight Vail has awoken."

I immediately stood up from my command throne.

"Commodore, you have the bridge," I told Kasteen briskly, already walking toward the exit. "Something has come up that requires my immediate attention."

With any luck, maybe Amberley could help me make sense of this mess. If nothing else, having a Jedi at my side should keep the Republic from immediately declaring a galaxy-wide hunt for my head.

Notes:

AN : Happy May the 4th, everybody !

Yes, this is another story. Because the Muse is strong, will not be denied, and I have been on a Star Wars binge recently (mostly Legends stuff, along with a lot of fanfics, from which I will shamelessly take inspiration going forward).

The timeline of Star Wars : The Old Republic (SWTOR) got messed up by Cain's presence and actions (which, conveniently, spares me from having to do a lot of research into the official timeline). If you aren't familiar with Bioware's MMO, then you're probably confused, but I plan to use the reaction of the rest of the galaxy to do some exposition so you're caught up to speed.

As for when the events of this chapter take place in the Prequel Trilogy, as indicated in the blurb, we are between Episodes I and II, but I haven't decided when exactly in that ten-years period. Initially, I went with one year after the Battle of Naboo, but I decided to remove that clarification since I haven't come up with a proper, complete timeline for the story and when exactly this starts will affect things like the state of the Clone Army and Anakin Skywalkwer's involvement. By the time of the next chapter, that question will hopefully be clarified.

On the same note, don't expect regular updates for this. I am planning to have the entire story planned out before actually starting it (that is to say, knowing exactly how many chapters there will be, and the broad strokes of what happens in each) in order to avoid another story growing too long.

Stop laughing. I mean it this time.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and I look forward to your thoughts and suggestions.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 2: Broken Chains

To my quiet surprise, none of the locals tried to kill me in the five days following our arrival to Perlia. Presumably, they all remembered the big ship in the system crewed by people who, as far as they knew, were fanatically loyal to me, and might react to my death by glassing the entire world from orbit. Which I didn't think Kasteen would do, although Force help the galaxy if Vaylin relapsed, since unless the Jedi Order had another legendary hero in their ranks in the current era, there was pretty much nothing in the entire galaxy that could stand up to her.

In any case, the lack of assassination attempts didn't mean I could relax, far from it. The Regent hadn't been kidding about wanting to properly celebrate my return, and I'd spent three days participating in various ceremonies which had mostly consisted of standing still while other people made speeches, as well as having to make a few of my own about how happy I was to be back, and other, vague promises of peace, prosperity and security that the crowd ate up like starving Terentateks. Something, incidentally, which wasn't a spectacle for the faint of heart, as I knew from painful experience.

With the formal transition of power complete, I was now the Sovereign of Perlia, holding the kind of absolute authority most tyrants could only dream of – and the weirdest part of it all was, it was all completely legal under Republic law, as far as I and the analysts could see.

It seemed that, after my disappearance, the Perlian leadership had set me up as some kind of mythical savior figure, destined to return in Perlia's hour of need to save the planet. They could hardly have been more blatant in their efforts to legitimize their own rule by claiming the 'Regents' were only ruling until my return, but it had effectively left Trevellyan with no choice but to offer me the crown back when, against all odds, I had come back when Perlia needed me.

Which, once again, proved that the Force had a nasty sense of humor where I was concerned. Somehow, I couldn't help but think the Republic in general and the Jedi Order in particular wouldn't look kindly on Trevellyan following the letter of his ancient oath of office by handing over a full star system to a Sith Lord – but that was a problem I was already taking steps to address.

While I had been trapped in celebrations and red tape, the rest of my people had been able to get to work dealing with the aftermath of the raid, which was how I had eventually ended up here, sitting around a conference table within the building which had hosted Perlia's seat of governance for the last couple of millennia, ever since the locals had converted my old fortress, built in the style of Dromund Kaas, into a museum. I had sent a few engineers to check out the old building and see if its upper levels could be refitted for our use, but that would take some time.

"Based on the intelligence we were able to extract from the computers of the Dread Son and the other captured pirate ships, Tatooine seems the most likely destination for those vessels which managed to escape the system with some of our captured people on board," said Agent Malden.

The blue-skinned, red-eyed Chiss was an operative of Imperial Intelligence, and, though the internal hierarchy of the spooks had never made any sense to me, he appeared to be the leader of our small contingent of spies, saboteurs and non-Sith assassins. Given that he was an alien in the Sith-and-Human dominated Empire, that was quite the achievement, although since Intelligence were the ones typically called in to clean up the messes caused by other Sith Lords, I supposed they had to be more pragmatic in their choice of hires just to keep up with their workload.

"Tatooine," I repeated, buying time to search my memory for any information about that world. Besides myself, the briefing was attended by Vaylin, Kasteen, and several other representatives of the various factions which had been aboard the Invincible during our trip through time, either in person or by holo, and I didn't want to look stupid or ignorant in front of any of them.

I vaguely remembered it being an Outer Rim backwater, with two suns and nothing but sand, with all attempts at extracting anything of value out of it ending in dismal and costly failure. Yet for some reason, a number of important individuals had spent time on it during the Second Great Galactic War (and Force, how depressing it was that we needed to number those bloody affairs).

"I see," I said at last. Best to redirect the discussion to something I wouldn't look foolish for not knowing, I decided. "Do we have a count of how many Perlian citizens were kidnapped ?"

Through what I could only think of as a miracle, none of the ships we'd blown up with the Invincible had been carrying Perlian captives : the slaver ships had all jumped out of the system the moment we had arrived and announced our intentions. While it meant I now had to arrange a rescue, that was much preferable to the public relations nightmare that killing our own people, however accidentally, would have been.

"The situation across Perlia is still evolving," replied Malden. "Distinguishing between missing and captured people is difficult, but we estimate that around four to five thousand civilians were aboard the pirate ships who entered hyperspace after our arrival in the system."

A tiny fraction of Perlia's total population, but that wouldn't matter if I abandoned them. If I could trust that one thing had remained the same over the last three thousand years, it was that most sentients across the galaxy were driven by sentiment, not cold-blooded logic – which, having seen the alternative, I much preferred, since emotional people were far easier to deceive and manipulate.

"What do we know about the current political climate of Tatooine ?" I asked, looking for the best way to approach the situation.

"The world is technically part of the Outer Rim and the Republic's Arkanis sector. But its isolation and lack of natural resources have left it more or less abandoned and ignored by the rest of the galaxy," Malden answered promptly, having clearly expected the question. "However, the Hutt Cartels moved in a few decades ago and have effectively seized control of all local institutions. Everyone on Tatooine either works for the Cartels, or pays some kind of tax to them. Currently, the representative of the Cartels on the planet is one Jabba the Hutt, one of the most powerful crime lords in the galaxy."

Oh, brilliant. Of course it would be the karking Hutts. It wasn't enough that I'd already crossed paths with a pawn of a Sith Lord who'd managed to survive in a galaxy dominated by the Republic : I had to deal with those slugs, too. And given their long lifespans, they were much more likely to remember me in greater detail than the Republic, which would make handling with them even more complicated.

I really wished I could get Amberley's advice (she'd always been better at that kind of thing than me) but that wasn't possible. She was still recovering in a kolto tank aboard the Invincible, which I had expected : the injuries she'd sustained battling Vitiate's mad cultists had been significant, even though the medical droids had assured me she would make a full recovery in time.

At least I'd been able to explain what had happened to her before she had gone back under. She'd taken the news about as well as I'd expected : the serenity so valued by the Jedi didn't quite extend to remaining calm upon learning you'd been trust thousands of years into the future, and the only people left from your time were citizens of the Empire you'd spent most of your adult life (apart from the times we'd been together against common threats, which more often than not had been Sith who'd gone off the rails anyway) fighting against.

I took a deep breath, and called on the Force, drawing the Dark Side to me in order to freeze the gnawing fear at the core of my being and let me act with the confidence expected of me. Everyone in the room (except JURG-N and Vaylin) flinched, and frost spread over the floor and walls as the temperature plummeted. Not exactly subtle, and I could only guess as to how they would interpret it, but maintaining my image of complete control was my first priority.

"Vaylin," I said, and my apprentice immediately perked up. "Come forward."

She stepped out of from behind my chair where she'd been standing and observing the proceedings. She didn't kneel : I had never asked her to do it, and I never would, since that was all too likely to trigger a flashback to her time in Valkorion's 'care', which was unlikely to end well for everybody – and, most importantly, me.

"The Invincible cannot go to Tatooine to rescue our people," I began.

For once, I was speaking nothing less than the truth. The accident which had brought us here had shorted out the whole hyperdrive. Already, our engineers were working on repairing it, as well as checking out every technological advance which might have occurred during the last three and a half thousand years and could be used to upgrade the Invincible.

According to their reports which had reached my desk, hyperdrive technology was the one area in which the advancements since my time had been the most significant. Modern engines were far smaller and more powerful than the ones of my time (which, I had learned with some bemusement, was now called the 'Old Republic' era). Refitting the Invincible with one of these engines would drastically increase its speed, although it would also put us in violation of a law forbidding the construction and use of ships over a measly six hundred meters length.

How the Republic could have thought this was a good idea, I had no idea : it had been part of something called the 'Ruusan Reformation' at the end of the last war between Jedi and Sith a thousand years ago, and my efforts to catch up on galactic history in between attending meetings and ceremonies hadn't gotten that far yet.

Of course, without access to the Holonet, both myself and the engineers were restricted to the local archives. The pirate fleet had destroyed the system's relays to silence any call for help, which, on the plus side, meant the rest of the galaxy was still ignorant of what had happened (although only a fool wouldn't have thought the Jedi had sensed the sudden return of a ship full of Sith soldiers and several Dark Side Force users, including someone as powerful as Vaylin).

However, the blackout wouldn't last long : if not for the fact that emergency and repair services were overwhelmed dealing with the damage caused by the pirates elsewhere, it would have already ended. I'd put it off by ordering efforts be focused elsewhere and saying that by the time the Republic sent help, we'd already have dealt with the issues anyway. But sooner or later our isolation would end, and once it did, the entire Republic would be drowned in footage of the raid, the Invincible's arrival, and my takeover of the planet.

Which meant that we were on a hard time limit to do everything possible to prepare for the inevitable moment when the rest of the galaxy heard about the return of the ancient Sith Lord Darth Cain and his takeover of a whole planet.

"Furthermore, the political situation prevents me from leaving Perlia at the moment," I continued, still speaking the truth. Well, I could leave, nobody would stop me, but it would be a bad idea. My authority over the Perlians, however based on their misinterpretation of old history it might be, was probably going to be needed to prevent tensions between the Invincible's crew and the local population, even with the prestige of having helped fight off the pirates. "So I will trust you with handling this task, Apprentice."

Vaylin smiled, with what I read to be a mix of pride and predatory anticipation. I would have felt bad for the Tatooine slavers, but, well, they were slavers.

"You will go to Tatooine aboard the Dread Son and every other pirate ship we captured during the battle, along with as many soldiers as we can pack inside them," I told her. "Agent Malden and Miss Sulla will accompany you : make sure to work with him and don't hesitate to rely on their expertise when needed."

Jenit Sulla was the leader of the Mandalorians who had sworn themselves to me. She was, in my opinion, a complete lunatic far too willing to risk the lives of the men and women under her command, but the fact she was always leading from the front meant that the rest of the Mandalorians loved her and would follow her into hell – something which, under my nominal command, I had asked of them more than once, always while being forced to accompany them.

"Take some of the acolytes as well; I trust you to decide which ones," I added, with a mental apology to poor Malden, who would have to handle an additional bunch of Darksiders. "Once there, you are to do whatever needs to be done to free the slaves and return our people to us."

It was massively overkill, but I didn't want the Perlians to think I'd skimped on assets if things went wrong. And it would also take some of my most problematic subordinates off my hands while I dealt with things on Perlia, with Malden to make sure they stayed on track.

"Yes, Teacher," replied Vaylin with a slight bow. "I swear to you that all of our lost people shall be returned, and those who dared harm them will pay the price of their crimes."

Malden and her departed, leaving me feeling quite pleased with how I had handled the whole thing. I got to stay in Perlia, protected by the Invincible, which was apparently the strongest vessel in the galaxy at the moment, while Vaylin got to go out and rescue a bunch of civvies, which would hopefully help with her many, many issues. Given that Tatooine was in the hands of the Hutts, her only opposition would be Hutts, slavers and those willing to work for them.

By the time the Holonet was restored and the Republic learned of my return, I'd be able to point to the rescue operation as a sign that I wasn't like those scary Sith in the history holos, and the Senate didn't need to send the entire Jedi Order after me. After all, the Republic had always been firmly anti-slavery, ever since its foundation by a bunch of former slaves of the Rakatas' Infinite Empire. It had been one of the fundamental differences between it and the Empire, and one of the reasons why I'd always thought the side on which I'd been born was doomed to lose the Great Galactic War.

As that weirdo Darth Imperius had ranted to me one evening we'd gone out drinking together (after a sequence of events that still didn't make sense to me looking back on it), using slaves in a galaxy with droids and advanced technology simply didn't make sense unless you were a petty sadist getting off on dominating over sentients, and that was hardly conducive to running a civilization efficiently. Especially since the Sith Empire had always been at a population disadvantage compared to the Republic, so allowing every citizen to pursue education and become as useful as they could would have been the most logical thing to do … but then again, the whole thing had been built from the ground and run by an omnicidal maniac with delusions of godhood.

I had always been uncomfortable with the Empire's use of the practice myself, although for far more selfish reasons than Imperius. I knew all too well that slaves inevitably revolted, and as a Sith Lord, I would be among the first to die in such an uprising. I had done all I could to lower the use of slaves within my domain back in the day, and set up harsh punishments for the mistreatments of servants in the guise of 'preventing the waste of the Empire's resources', but I'd known my limits : I wasn't the kind of individual who could change the ingrained nature of the Empire.

In any case, it was clear that whoever Darth Sidious was, they must be operating from the Outer Rim, hiding far away from the Core and the Jedi Order. After all, given how powerful the Jedi and the Republic were in this era, what kind of idiot would be stupid enough to get anywhere close to Coruscant ? And while I was confident I could deal with one Sith Lord (I had done it enough times already), facing the entire might of the Jedi Order was another story.

Why exactly the Jedi hadn't dealt with slavery in the Outer Rim entirely in the thousand years since they'd defeated the last open Sith (according to Trevellyan, it had been some group calling themselves the 'Brotherhood of Darkness', which really told you everything you needed to know about how things had gone down the drain after the fall of the Empire), I had no idea. But if they were anything like the ones from my era, they wouldn't see any problem with a bunch of Force-sensitives killing a lot of criminals in order to free kidnapped people from slavery – Force knew they had done the same to the Empire's own slave camps enough times.

Yes, this would all work out, I told myself. And really, it was Tatooine. What was the worse that could happen ?

---

With a gesture of Vaylin's hand, the choker around the neck of the Twi'lek dancer girl snapped open, before the chain it had been attached to wrapped itself around the throat of her master. Another hand motion then caused Tatooine's slaver king to rise into the air, the chain burrowing into the layers of fat around his enormous neck as it strangled him. The disgusting slug hung in the air like a worm on a hook, twitching and trying uselessly to break free of the stranglehold, until Vaylin closed her fist, tightening the chain with enough strength to break his neck and end the life of Jabba the Hutt.

She released her hold on the Force, and the fat corpse crashed onto the floor of Jabba's own palace's audience room with a disgustingly wet noise, reducing the body of his equally dead aide, Bib Fortuna, to pulp in the process. The Twi'lek slave leapt away reflexively to avoid being crushed as well – not that Vaylin would have let it happen, as it would have put quite the damper on the event. For a moment, she stared at Jabba's corpse, her shock and disbelief radiating through the Force, before shaking herself and spitting on the body. Then one of the Imperial troopers approached and gently led her away, leaving the room to Vaylin and her second-in-commands : Malden, Sulla, and the Sith Pureblood who led the acolytes (she didn't have the patience to do it herself), Khayon.

They had followed in her wake after she had broken through the main gate of the complex, keeping a careful distance to avoid being caught in her rampage and dealing with the few broken survivors. Vaylin had followed her Teacher's example by using herself as a diversion and battering ram, leading a frontal, single-handed assault on the enemy while her subordinates, who had already infiltrated the location, used the cover of her attack to perform subtler tasks (in this case, making sure the many slaves kept by Jabba were safe). While she wasn't her Teacher's martial equal, nor did she possess the same talent for inspiring terror in her enemies using the Force, her sheer raw power had been more than enough to tear through the thugs the Hutt had kept as protection.

Like that scum Varan, the guards had mistaken her for a Jedi, which was annoying, but inevitable. After today, though, nobody would make the same mistake. Jabba himself had tried to talk to her when she had reached his throneroom. Whether it had been to threaten, negotiate or beg, Vaylin didn't know and didn't care. She had heard too much about his depredations in her time on Tatooine, and seen even more as she carved a path through his stronghold. There could be no peace, no treaty, no accord with the slug, only punishment.

Slicers had made sure the sight of her killing Jabba had been broadcast all over the planet, on every screen and every holo. Within a rotation, every criminal in the Outer Rim and beyond would have watched the recording of her killing the Hutt widely considered one of if not the most powerful leader of the Hutt Cartels, and every politician on Coruscant would, at the very least, have heard about it.

The last time she'd done any public speaking had been when she'd led the subjugation fleets of the Eternal Empire, and at the time, she hadn't cared whether those who heard her demand their capitulation surrendered or not – lost to hateful apathy as she'd been, it had all been the same to her. But now, she genuinely wanted to convince people of her intentions, of her message.

She took a deep breath. She could do this. She'd seen her Teacher do things like it plenty of times. Even if she didn't think she'd ever be his equal in that regard, all she had to do was follow the examples he'd given her, and it would be enough. It had to be.

"People of Tatooine, I am Vaylin, apprentice of the Sith Lord, Darth Cain, and leader of the forces that are even now overthrowing the yoke of slavery wherever it may be found on your world."

To most of the people watching the broadcast, most of those words wouldn't mean anything. But to the people who actually mattered, it would mean a lot. Vaylin expected that historians across the Republic were going to get a lot of business in the coming days.

"We came here to rescue the citizens of Perlia who were captured and enslaved during a pirate raid several weeks ago. But upon witnessing the barbarity of the Hutts and their accomplices, I realized that merely doing this and leaving was unacceptable."

Finding and rescuing the kidnapped Perlians had been easy : within forty-eight hours of their arrival on Tatooine, the last of them was safe aboard the small flotilla that had carried Vaylin and her forces. She'd been about to give the order to return to Perlia when she'd suddenly been struck by how easy the whole thing had been : she could have done it all by herself … well, no. She could have done the fighting part by herself, but only a handful of assistants would've been needed to track down the Perlians.

Yet instead of doing that, her Teacher had given her an army. Why ? She'd spent several moments considering this, before the answer had come to her : because he expected more from her than merely liberating the victims of Perlia's raid. Darth Cain was the kind of man with the vision to turn every challenge into an opportunity : she had seen him do it several times, and heard about many more from talking with those who had been at his side longer than her. And with that vermin Varan having revealed the existence of a rival Sith Lord having influence over the Outer Rim's criminal elements, this mission to Tatooine was the perfect chance to strike a telling blow at Sidious' theoretical power base, all while increasing their own.

And while freeing millions of sentient from enslavement might have been low on her Teacher's priority list, Vaylin was confident it hadn't been entirely absent from it.

"I swear to you on my Teacher's name, none of you shall ever be enslaved again. Let the Cartels come and try to turn back the clock. Let the Hutts send their hired armies, their hunters and their assassins. All of them will be given a choice : to surrender, or to be crushed. You may fear that there are too many of them, that we don't have the strength to do this. I tell you : you are wrong. You thought Jabba's hold on this world was unbreakable, and look at him now. We did this, and with your help, we will achieve even more."

Once she'd made her decision and told the rest of the Imperials about it (nobody had argued against it, though she wasn't sure how much of it was them agreeing to her interpretation of her Teacher's instructions and how much them not wanting to contradict her), it had taken weeks of careful planning to pull the whole thing off.

Weeks of sending infiltrators into the local population, discreetly making contact with the existing resistance movements – such as they were, being more focused on helping individual slaves escape their masters than on overthrowing the whole system. Weeks of convincing people who had been betrayed and hurt far too many times (again and again and again, chains and whips and collars and lies spoken through smiling lips, just like what they did to her) that this was no trick, that the strangers from the stars really meant it when they promised to take down the Hutts and their enforcers. Weeks of raiding resources caches, masquerading their actions as the usual gang warfare.

The slavers were used to putting down uprisings and escape attempts, but Agent Malden and his colleagues had sharpened their skills against the best spies the Republic had to offer, before helping orchestrate a galaxy-wide uprising against Zakuul's Eternal Empire. Bypassing the criminals' security measures had been child's play to them.

As she walked into Jabba's Palace, dozens of strike teams had moved in across Tatooine. Snipers and commandos had eliminated the overseers of the largest slave pens and deactivated security systems, leaving the doors wide open for armored troopers. Meanwhile, slaves all over the world had risen up against their masters, striking with kitchen knives, poisons, and spanners.

The planet-wide signal jammer aboard the Dread Son built by the Imperial technicians prevented the masters from detonating the chips embedded in the flesh of their slaves, leaving the slavers uselessly pushing the detonation trigger even as their long-suffering victims took their justified revenge on their oppressors. Each and every one of them would need surgery to remove the abominable objects, of course, and they would get it : already Imperial medics were coordinating with local healers to set up field hospitals where the necessary surgeries could take place.

Overthrowing what was effectively Tatooine's planetary government overnight and setting up a functioning replacement was a lot of work, but again, the Imperial operatives her Teacher had told her to bring with her were well-used to this kind of work. They had done it before, and on worlds whose population was a lot less well-disposed to Imperial forces than that of the desert planet.

"Let the Hutts tremble, for their time of judgement is at hands. For millennia, they have preyed upon this galaxy. Always, always they have escaped justice, always they have hidden from retribution, sending others to fall in their place. That time is at an end."

"The Force shall set us all free !"

With her speech over, Vaylin smiled. There was still a lot to do before Darth Cain's vision for Tatooine and beyond was realized, but she felt confident this was a good start.

---

Iskandar Khayon watched the ongoing celebrations of Tatooine's liberation. With the setting of the planet's twin suns, the temperature had plummeted, but the large bonfire that had been lit in the middle of the courtyard of Jabba's Palace provided more than enough warmth for the hundreds of sentients of various species to continue dancing, singing, and otherwise enjoying themselves.

He was enjoying the chill : as a Sith Pureblood, Iskandar's physiology was naturally adapted to warm temperatures, but Tatooine was a bit much even for him. And the solitude gave him time to think; to consider what had happened on this world, and what it meant for the future.

When he'd learned what had happened to the Invincible, Iskandar had been shocked, naturally. Even though the Empire had been on the verge of collapse, it had still been where he'd lived all his life. Fortunately, most of the people he was close to had been aboard Darth Cain's flagship as well.

"What are you doing here all by yourself, Iskandar ?" called out a low, purring voice he recognized as belonging to one of the people in question, drawing him out of his reflection.

He turned in the voice's direction, and saw exactly who he'd expected : a black-skinned Twi'lek with elaborate golden markings, wearing one of the local, all-covering cloaks over the much smaller leather outfit she usually preferred – but which, on this world, would have just been asking for problems.

She moved with a natural, predatory grace she'd picked up in her youth in the dark streets of Nar Shadda, before her connection to the Force had been detected by a wandering Sith she'd tried to rob, leading to her being delivered to the Academy in a crate with several broken bones.

"Nefertari," he greeted her with a nod. "I am merely thinking."

"What about ?"

"All this," he replied, gesturing at the celebrations. "And what it means for the future … for us."

"Hmm." She sat down on the dune next to him, casually leaning against his shoulder for warmth like an especially murderous cat. "I must admit, I didn't think we'd end up doing all of this when we left Perlia."

"Neither did I," said Iskandar. "But it makes sense when you think about it. For all its advantages, Perlia is still far from the main hyperlanes, while this world is connected to the rest of the Outer Rim – it's the only reason anyone even comes here. Taking it in a way that makes the locals sympathetic to our cause is a great strategic move. And Lady Vaylin is right : Darth Cain wouldn't have put so many of us under her command if we were only supposed to rescue the people taken in the raid. Blood and stones, Nefertari, you and I could have achieved that much on our own."

It wouldn't have been easy, but given what he'd seen of the local criminals in his time on this miserable ball of sand, he felt confident he and the Twi'lek would have managed it.

"We couldn't have done this, though," he continued. "We would have sneaked around to get the information needed, killed the guards around the slave pens where our targets were, and escape before the enforcers realized what was going on and came down on us with overwhelming numbers. Only someone like Lady Vaylin could just waltz into Jabba's Palace and kill everyone in her way."

"Oh ?" Nefertari asked in a dangerously calm voice. "So you think she's more dangerous than me, is that it ?"

"She is the daughter of the mightiest Sith Emperor to have ever lived," Iskandar deadpanned. "And Darth Cain's apprentice besides. Yes, Nefertari, I think she's more dangerous than you, because she's more dangerous than almost anybody in the entire galaxy."

The Twi'lek considered his answer in silence for several seconds, before finally nodding.

"I suppose I can accept that." Which, crucially, didn't mean that she had or would, so Iskandar would probably still have to pay for his comment later – his punishment just wouldn't be as painful as it could have been, and he might even enjoy it.

The relationship between the two acolytes was a complicated one. When they first met, it had been as rival students at the Sith Academy on Korriban. At the time, Iskandar had been as arrogant as one would expect of a Pureblood Sith with his strength in the Force, convinced that he was destined for greatness.

He'd thought he would coast through the Academy's training easily, until his first spar with the Twi'lek once she'd recovered from her initial injuries thanks to the painful but effective care of the Academy's healers. Their bout had lasted almost an entire hour, left the training room in pieces, and had ended in a draw. It had marked the two of them as the best students in their group, and started a rivalry that had eventually grown into whatever it was they were now.

One of them would almost certainly have killed the other eventually, but events had conspired to prevent it. After the collapse of Zakuul's so-called 'Eternal Empire', it hadn't taken long for the conflict between the Republic and the Sith Empire to start again. But without the authority of the first Sith Emperor to keep everybody in line, the Empire had begun to tear itself apart.

There'd been a succession of self-proclaimed Emperors and Empresses, but none of them had been Vitiate's equal, and the endless feuds and outright wars had done more to weaken the Empire than the Republic ever could. Things had gotten so bad that Korriban itself had gotten caught in the factionalism – well, the Academy had always been part of the Sith Lords' power plays, but that had become an accepted fact of life instead of an open secret. Teachers had pitted their students against one another, sabotaged trials and even orchestrated the assassination of those who might one day oppose their ideology of choice.

In the end, things had reached a boiling point before they could finish their training and be pitted against each other for the final time, as some of their teachers intended (although there had been some debate on the question, the Empire not being in a position to waste promising students). To this day, Iskandar didn't know exactly what had happened : the Academy had suddenly become a battlefield, as factions among the faculty and the student body alike turned to violence to seize the school, and through it, Korriban. The fact he hadn't been invited to join any of the factions due to the rumors circulating about him and Nefertari had been more than a little insulting, although looking back, he wouldn't have had it any other way.

He had found Nefertari in the middle of the confusion, and they had decided it was in their best interests to cooperate until they could escape the anarchy. On their way to the spaceport, they had gathered a bunch of other students caught in the crossfire – it had been Iskandar's idea, since Nefertari would have left them all to die, even though they could be valuable allies or, at the worst, bargaining chips. That decision had proven its worth once they were in the void, as it had been one of them who had suggested they seek refuge on Perlia, domain of the infamous Darth Cain.

The Sith Lord had welcomed them in with open arms and a smile on his face, even as his aura flared with the power of the Dark Side, carrying the unspoken yet vivid threat of what would happen to them if they ever spurned his generosity and betrayed him. While none of them had been selected to become his direct apprentice (not that anyone had so much as entertained the notion of replacing Vaylin the traditional way, except maybe Nefertari), Darth Cain had provided them with plenty of opportunities to increase their power, all while protecting them from any retribution for their actions on Korriban.

Both of them had taken part in the battle against the Cult of the Emperor. Made up of the surviving members of the Hand and Children of the Emperor along with Knights of Zakuul and even Imperials who'd stayed loyal to Valkorion, either due to the strength of their indoctrination or sheer stupidity, these deluded fanatics had sought to resurrect Vitiate once again. Left to their own devices, they might very well have succeeded, but after the truth of the Sith Emperor's aims for the galaxy had been revealed, nobody had any intent of allowing his return to come to pass.

It was one thing to be part of an Empire controlled by a single being of surpassing power, to whom every citizen of the Empire was merely a tool. It was quite another to be used like livestock to be devoured, all in order to fuel the endless hunger of a would-be god. Even now, remembering the expressions of the cultists as they fought like possessed sentients to protect their ritual site sent a shiver down Iskandar's spine that had nothing to do with the cold temperature. Each and every one of them had truly believed that the Emperor would resurrect those who'd served him after he was done devouring the galaxy, elevating them to his side as immortal spirits.

"By the way," said Nefertari nonchalantly, "I heard something about the sand people in the desert making a move now that Jabba is dead."

She patted the weapons hanging at her belt, making her suggested course of action clear. Like him, Nefertari had taken her lightsabers during their escape from Korriban, and baptised them in the blood of other Sith. Although while Iskandar's purple lightstaff had previously belonged to his teacher Ashur-Kai, before he'd claimed it after avenging the Human albino's murder at the hands of a colleague, Nefertari had taken her two red lightsabers off the corpses of full-fledged Sith who had made the mistake of underestimating her for being an alien on Korriban.

"Well," said Iskandar aloud, standing up and stretching. "We didn't get a chance to do much today. Might as well get some exercise."

A couple of hours later, the two Sith acolytes had finished slaughtering the hundred or so Tusken raiders who had been moving toward the city under the cover of night. They had allowed those who threw down their weapons and prostrated themselves to live : as Darth Cain had declared, leaving survivors to carry word of your deeds spread fear among your lessers, and mercy could be far more dangerous a weapon than cruelty when wielded by a skilled hand.

Besides, the two of them couldn't kill every Tusken in the endless deserts. Another approach was needed to ensure the fledgling new order of Tatooine was spared from their depredations. To that end, Nefertari had made sure the survivors knew that things had changed and would continue to change on Tatooine, and that the desert tribes had to choose between remaining isolated from the rest of the world's inhabitants, peacefully integrate, or continue their violent ways and be wiped out.

With that done, Iskandar used the Force to carry the weapons of the dead Tuskens away, before dropping them to a nearby homestead (a moisture farm of all things – the notion that people here needed to farm water was frankly head-scratching to the Pureblood), as a gift to the residing couple and their son in exchange for making sure the rest of the locals knew of their exploits.

There had been something about the woman there who had tugged at Iskandar's senses, but he hadn't been able to identify what in their few minutes of conversation. She wasn't Force-sensitive, but there had been an … aura, for lack of a better term, about her. He would probably have to keep an eye on her, just in case it meant something more than the random vagaries of the Force.

For now, though, Iskandar fully intended to enjoy the rest of the night in Nefertari's company.

---

Amberley sat at Ciaphas' left hand, on a hover-chair designed for recovering patients. She was very lucky to be alive : if the weapon that had injured her had been a lightsaber, she would have died on the spot. But fortunately the Emperor's mad cultists had been armed mostly with vibro-blades and other mundane weapons, and she hadn't ended up fighting the few Force-users still enslaved to the undead Sith Lord.

Even so, a punctured lung, several broken bones, and more blood loss than she was comfortable thinking about had almost been enough to end her. If not for Ciaphas carrying her back to the Invincible as the temple collapsed around them, using the Force to keep her alive all the way to the medical bay, she would have died that day.

Several weeks submerged in kolto had been enough for her to be let out of the Invincible's medical bay, and Amberley had hardly left Ciaphas' side since. She remained silent as he listened to the report his apprentice was delivering to him and those subordinates who had rushed to hear it.

Perlia's connection to the Holonet had only just returned, and once the servers had managed to process the large quantity of backlogged messages, Vaylin's request for a link with her teacher had come through. Ciaphas had immediately accepted it : they had been expecting her to be back already, and while Ciaphas did his best to conceal how worried about his Apprentice he was, he couldn't hide the truth from Amberley – he had never been able to, all the way back to their first meeting. And only someone who knew him as well as she did would have been able to tell he was completely flabbergasted by Vaylin's words.

"I see," he said once Vaylin was finished explaining how, instead of rescuing the few thousand kidnapped Perlians as had been her instructions, she'd led a slave revolt across all of Tatooine, successfully forcing the Hutts off the planet and freeing millions of sentients from slavery in the process, convinced all the while she was following Ciaphas' actual plan. "I am proud of you, my apprentice."

Amberley suppressed a smirk. She didn't need the Force to know Ciaphas was forcing the truth into knots – not that the Force would have been any help in this, as Ciaphas had learned to conceal any deceit beyond the ability of all but the most powerful (and wise, since Vaylin, for all her other faults, definitely was very strong in the Force) to detect.

"You have surpassed all of my expectations," he continued, before shifting from carefully phrased truth to outright lies. "You figured out the intent behind your orders, decided on a course of action, and executed it flawlessly by working with others and even making allies beyond the ones I sent with you, reaching out to the local population and gaining their support."

"Thank you, Teacher," replied Vaylin, beaming under her Teacher's praise. "But I couldn't have done it without Malden's and the others' help to set it all up."

Even through the low-quality projection, Amberley could see that Vaylin had to force the words out.

"Of course. Neither could I, Vaylin, or anyone else" replied Ciaphas, smoothly soothing any feelings of inadequacy his apprentice might have. "That's why I sent him and the others with you in the first place : because no one in this galaxy can do everything alone."

Not a sentiment typically associated with the Sith, but then, Ciaphas wasn't a typical Sith. Amberley had known that even before meeting him in person and realizing that the reputation of Darth Cain, the Lord of Terror, was nothing more than a mask Ciaphas used to survive the cut-throat world of Sith politics. Not that he wasn't dangerous in his own right, of course, although good luck trying to convince him of that. His lack of faith in himself was both endearing and, at times, extremely frustrating.

"You need to be careful, however," Ciaphas continued. "The Hutts will not take Jabba's death lightly. While there is little love lost between them, maintaining their reputation alone will demand they respond in some manner. As the one who killed Jabba, they are sure to target you."

"Let them try," boasted Vaylin. "I am not afraid of their hired killers."

"Nor should you be. But remember : caution isn't the same as fear. I have no desire for you to succumb to poison or another cowardly method because you let your guard down."

"I won't. Now that the Perlians are on the way back, I still need to stay on Tatooine for a few days, but then things should be stable enough that I can return to Perlia with the troops which aren't needed to garrison the planet."

"Take your time, my apprentice," advised Ciaphas. "How things progress on Tatooine will be of great importance to our future in this galaxy."

And the longer Vaylin was on the desert planet, the longer Ciaphas had to figure out how to respond to this latest development. Pure coincidence, of course, thought Amberley, still concealing her smile.

Because really, what did Ciaphas think would happen by sending Vaylin of all people to rescue a group of slaves on a planet full of them ? Of course she was going to free them all. Ciaphas really underestimated how much his influence had changed the daughter of the former Sith Emperor.

"I will make sure the world is properly secured before I return," promised Vaylin. "Until then, goodbye, Teacher."

"Goodbye, Vaylin. May the Force be with you."

The connection died. Immediately, Ciaphas pressed a few buttons, and the image of Commodore Kasteen replaced that of his apprentice.

"Commodore," he greeted her. "I take it you have heard about what happened on Tatooine ?"

"Yes, my lord. That Hutt's death is all over the galactic news. We are already preparing to run drills on how to fight off a Hutt response if they make the mistake of being in the same system as the Invincible."

"Very good," approved Ciaphas. "I expect the Invincible to be ready to show them all the Imperial hospitality they can handle. And fire up the factory decks : we're going to need all the prefabricated habitats we can get to house the refugees who are going to arrive soon, too."

"It will be done, my lord," saluted the hologram of the red-haired ship mistress before disappearing.

"Commander Broklaw, make sure the ground forces are ready to repeal another raid," said Ciaphas to the commander-in-chief of the Imperial forces in the system. "While I have no doubt that the Invincible is more than a match for anything the slugs can throw at it, not even so powerful a ship can blockade an entire world on its own."

"Yes, my lord," saluted Broklaw. "We will get the local boys and girls up to speed so we can leave things here in their hands while we go out to hunt slavers, you have my word."

"Make sure to train them in fighting Force users, too," added Amberley. "With this Sidious still out there, they might need it."

The Imperial Army officer glanced at Ciaphas, who nodded in approval. Even after her long association with Ciaphas, most of his subordinates were still nervous around her : a legacy of having grown up in an Empire which used the Jedi as bogeymen to scare children into obedience.

It had been years (not taking their recent misadventure into account) since one of them had tried to kill her in order to 'free Darth Cain from Jedi manipulations', but she doubted they would ever truly be at ease around her. Which was a shame : Ciaphas had a great eye for people, and had Kasteen or Broklaw not been born in the Empire, she'd no doubt they would have done very well in the Republic. Since that wasn't the case, however, she didn't go anywhere without her lightsaber, just in case.

"Everyone, leave us," Ciaphas ordered. "I wish to speak with Knight Vail in private."

Within moments, the room was empty, JURG-N escorting the last group through the door before sealing it shut. Amberley knew from experience that the assassin-droid-turned-aide would remain in front of the door, guarding it and preventing all but the most urgent of interruptions, while also not using his highly advanced suite of sensors to listen in on their conversation (a quirk of programming every protocol droid possessed, in order to avoid having to mind-wipe them every time they heard something they shouldn't have).

Now that the two of them were alone, Ciaphas let the mask of Darth Cain slip, and sat heavily on his chair, sighing deeply.

"What a mess," he moaned. "Dealing with the Republic was already going to be difficult enough, but now this … We're going to have to fight the entire Cartels, aren't we."

"Given the speech your apprentice gave after killing Jabba ? Yes, most likely," agreed Amberley. "But that won't happen quickly, I think. The Hutts will be more concerned with determining which of them gets to inherit Jabba's territory, seeing its reconquest as a mere formality. That'll change once they realize that Vaylin wasn't bluffing, and the size of the resources at your disposal, but for now, repelling their first reprisals shouldn't be too difficult."

"Staying on the defensive isn't viable," said Ciaphas, showing the instinctual grasp of tactics and strategy that had seen him rise so high on the Republic's threat list back during the First Galactic War. "Though they are divided between the Cartels, the Hutts have access to far more resources than us. If they have the time to bring them to bear, they'll crush us. Once things on Tatooine are stabilized, we'll need to go on the offensive instead – keep them off-balance, force them to react to us instead of the other way around."

"That … that might work," nodded Amberley, thoughtful. "But you'll also need to handle the Republic's response to this whole mess before going out to war against the Hutts, dear."

"I know." He was frowning, deep in thought. "Vaylin declared herself as my apprentice publicly : unless the Jedi Archives were destroyed again during the last three thousand years, they'll find my name in there eventually, and someone will connect the dots. Especially now that Perlia is back on the Holonet."

Ciaphas hadn't even tried to enforce an information blackout to keep what had happened to the pirate fleet a secret : like any good leader, he knew better than to give an order he knew wouldn't be obeyed.

Still, he once again underestimated himself. In Amberley's opinion, unless whoever was in charge of the Jedi Archives' nowadays was hopelessly incompetent, it wouldn't take them long at all to find a reference to Darth Cain.

"Jedi might be resistant to change, but three and a half thousand years is a long time, even for them. The Order I remember would never have agreed to these Ruusan Reformations limiting their reach like this. I cannot say how they'll react to your presence, or to what Vaylin did."

"She killed a slaver and freed an entire world's worth of slaves," Ciaphas pointed out. "Surely they'll approve ? I mean, apart from the whole live execution on the Holonet thing."

"Oh, Ciaphas," Amberley chuckled. "You underestimate how hidebound the Order can be, and that was before they had a thousand years of peace. They will agree with the liberation of the slaves in principles," at least she hoped they would, "but the fact a Sith Apprentice was the one to do it means they will immediately suspect a hidden, sinister motive. To them, these people aren't free, their master has just changed from Jabba to Vaylin. Unless attitudes toward the Sith have changed, of course, but somehow I doubt we will be so lucky."

"Surely they won't fight alongside the Hutts, though," he protested.

"That's … unlikely, yes," she admitted. Information on the Jedi Order was scarce, especially this deep in the Outer Rim, but what little she had been able to get her hands on since being cleared from bed rest indicated that the principles of the Order, its dedication to the Light and doing good across the galaxy, hadn't changed. "But that doesn't make them your allies, either."

"Well, I'll be relying on your help there. As long as we can avoid the Order or the Republic declaring war on us, I think we should be fine. Dealing with the Cartels won't be easy, but I'll be damned if the karking Hutts are the ones to get us after everything we had survived."

And just like that, she thought fondly, Ciaphas had decided that waging war against the criminal overlords of the Outer Rim and an entire sector of space beyond it was the most rational, self-interested course of action available to him. Nevermind all the people who'd already been saved by his apprentice, nevermind the billions more who had already heard her proclamation or would hear it soon, and find hope in Vaylin's words. Of course, it all had to be in the name of survival, not doing the right thing.

One day, Amberley hoped, Ciaphas would manage to escape the blinders his upbringing had forced upon him, and see himself for the good man she'd always known him to be. And, she thought, now that there was no Sith Empire to drag him into its bloody politics, that day was closer than ever.

She just had to make sure he survived long enough to reach it. Not an easy task by any means, but as Ciaphas had said : they had survived worse together.

Notes:

AN : Well, the response to this story has been overwhelmingly positive. Over 20 reviews and comments, and that number again of pages of discussion on SB, with numerous snippets/omakes. I'm, once again, blown away.

And I know, I know. You all wanted to see the reaction of the rest of the galaxy to Darth Cain's return. But think about it this way : Cain doesn't get to explain how he took over one planet after saving them from pirates. No, that would be too easy.

Instead, he gets to explain why he took over two planets, and started a war with a criminal empire stretching across the Outer Rim which has existed for thousands of years.

This chapter had a lot of backstory and inner monologue; a bit too much for my tastes. That will change from now on, as I think I have established enough backstory - at least, the parts of it I couldn't think of a more natural way to convey to you the readers.

Iskandar Khayon and Nefertari are based on two characters from the Black Legion series, continuing this story's trend of using Warhammer characters for OCs. I hadn't planned their presence, but they invited themselves into this chapter once Cain decided to give a bunch of Acolytes to Vaylin - which doesn't bode well for my hopes to keep this story relatively short.

Also, after I had decided to have Khayon be a Sith pureblood, someone on the SB thread mentioned that by the time of the Great Galactic War, "purebloods" were all hybrids from the original Siths of Korriban and the Dark Jedi who found refuge there after losing their war against the Jedi - a mingling of bloodlines which was made possible through the use of Dark Side alchemy.

So what I am hearing is that Khayon is the fruit of ancient gene-wrights using forbidden sciences to alter the blood of children in order to make them more powerful. And the civilization which did that ended up being ruled by an immortal Emperor for centuries, who did many, many questionable things before being cast down in a process which involved many members of his ruling elite turning against him due to his plans to achieve godhood.

Hmmm. Now where have I heard that before ?

Next chapter will contain the reactions of the rest of the galaxy to the news of Perlia and Tatooine's recent events. I already have three different perspectives (the obvious ones), so if you have suggestions for someone else, now is the time. Since the Muse put a metaphorical gun to my head, I have been able to get a basic outline for this story done while also writing this chapter.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 3: Reactions

To say that Coruscant was ever quiet would be a bold-faced lie. The capital of the Republic was forever abuzz with news, rumors, plots, and schemes of a million worlds' political elite; and underneath it all was the ceaseless humming of the Great Works, the unseen, titanic engines which provided air, water and power to the planet's trillion-strong population. But the buzz had certainly increased in intensity recently, as news of what had transpired in the Outer Rim reached the Core.

The death of Jabba the Hutt and the Tatooine uprising had dominated the news since the video of the Hutt's summary execution had been uploaded on the Holonet – where, despite the best attempts of censors and various factions, it was still up, re-uploaded whenever it was taken down. Then the connection to Perlia had returned, and images of the impossibly large battleship in the system, along with messages about the pirate raid, its crushing defeat, and who exactly was taking the credit for that, had also begun to flood Coruscant.

Nobody knew what exactly was happening, what the connection between the Perlian defenders and the liberators of Tatooine was, or where either had come from. Speculation was rife, with every two-credits analyst and self-proclaimed expert having a theory they assured everyone willing (or not) to listen to them was the one absolute truth. While serious, professional news outlets were doing their due research, the sensationalist ones, more concerned with viewership than accuracy, revelled in the mayhem, uncaring for the panic they helped spread by entertaining the wildest of conspiracy theories.

There had yet to be an official response to the events, only the office of the Supreme Chancellor announcing that they were looking into the two matters, and that further information would be made public as it was obtained. This did precious little to prevent rumors, of course, with some going so far as to proclaim that the doom of the Republic was on the horizon, now that its ancient enemy had returned.

In the Jedi Temple, the mood was hardly less disturbed, despite the Order's focus on peace and calm. For weeks now, every Jedi, Padawan and youngling had felt the echoes of some great and vast presence suddenly appearing in the Force, casting ripples that had spread across the galaxy (even Jedi on missions far from Coruscant had contacted the Temple to report they had felt the disturbance too). All attempts to identify the source of this disturbance had been in vain, until at last the news of Perlia and Tatooine had shed some light onto the matter – and brought many more questions as well.

Which was why the Jedi Council was gathering now, to listen to Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu, who had just finished her first round of research in the Archives on everything the Order knew about this Darth Cain who had claimed dominion over Perlia and whose apprentice had effectively conquered Tatooine.

"Grateful for your assistance in this matter, we are, Madame Nu," said Grand Master Yoda. "Know that not much time to investigate, we gave you."

"It's fine, Master Yoda," assured the grey-haired Human woman, who held in her hands a datapad containing the collected results of her research. "I understand the urgency of the situation."

"Nevertheless, the Council is thankful for your service," said Master Windu. "Now, what can you tell us ?"

"Quite a lot, and at the same time, not enough, I am afraid," apologized the Chief Librarian. "If not for the urgency and dire implications of the situation, this would have been one of the most fascinating project of my career. To begin with, the records are clear that there was indeed a Darth Cain in the Sith Empire which the Old Republic fought in the Great Galactic Wars, over thirty-eight centuries ago."

She pressed a key on her datapad, and the projector at the center of the chamber displayed a grainy portrait of a tall man clad in armor, his face set in a hard expression.

"How can we know that this is not an imposter ?" asked Master Trebor. "The Perlians are saying that it was a hyperdrive accident that resulted in the Sith ship arriving thousands of years into its future, but that seems … unlikely."

"I am not a starship expert, nor am I well-versed in the technical details of hyperspace navigation," prefaced Jocasta, "but I have asked those in the Order who are, and they tell me that such temporal displacement is theoretically possible. Apparently, it has happened before, although never with a ship that large or a time difference that long. And the images of the ship we have received do fit the records we have of the flagship of Darth Cain, the Invincible. If it is a trick, then it is a trick someone went to great lengths to make look convincing."

"Especially since nobody in the galaxy builds ships that size for combat anymore," noted Master Mundi. "The resources that would have gone into building something like this would be astronomical. I don't think anybody could manage it without us at least hearing about it." The Cerean Master paused for a moment, before adding : "Just to be sure, we didn't happen to hear about it and dismiss it as rumors, right ?"

"I have gone through the last few years of reports from our operatives in the Outer Rim," replied Windu, whose exhaustion, which was visible despite his best effort to conceal it, suddenly made much more sense. He must have gone with as little sleep as Jocasta herself in the last few days. "And I didn't find anything that looked like it could be related to this."

"Then assume true these claims of time-travel, we must, until proof of the contrary we find," said Yoda. "And to that end, learn more of the distant past, we should, hmm ? Not often it is that of a past older than even I, we must discuss."

Sensing her cue, Jocasta began her briefing in earnest.

"Darth Cain was a male Human Sith Lord of the Empire, which appeared seemingly out of nowhere in the Unknown Regions a thousand years after the Great Hyperspace War and started the Great Galactic War against the Republic. There exist numerous records about him in the Archives : it seems that, due to the numerous defeats the Republic suffered at his hands, a lot of effort went into figuring out where he came from."

She didn't have access to those records, unfortunately : the Republic and the Jedi Order had been much less closely bound together back then, especially after the Sacking of Coruscant which had led to the Order's relocation on Tython and a loss of faith in the Order. But enough Jedi had worked alongside the Republic's spies that their own notes and journals still contained plenty of information.

"Attempts to figure out on which world of the Sith Empire Cain was born only returned inconclusive results. The first trace of him that I found was as an apprentice to the Sith Lord Darth Erebus, trained on their capital world of Dromund Kaas, in the Outer Rim."

And, Force, hadn't that biography been a disturbing read. It had made Jocasta glad for all the caf she'd drunk to get her report done as fast as possible, since she was certain she'd have nightmares about the things she'd learned about Darth Cain's Sith Master. She looked forward to indulging in several days of meditation once this briefing was done, before sleeping for a day or two.

"In the early years of the Great Galactic War, Darth Erebus was responsible for some of the worst atrocities perpetrated by the Empire on the worlds of the Outer Rim," she continued, drawing on the Light Side of the Force to remain serene despite the images her imagination conjured as she thought back to the detailed records she'd read. There is no emotion, there is peace.

"Even among the Sith, Erebus was particularly vile : it wasn't so much that he didn't care about civilian casualties than he instead relished them, and took pleasure in inflicting as much suffering and misery as he could. Entire worlds were depopulated to serve as fuel for his Dark rituals. As an example, it was only thousands of years later, after the end of the New Sith Wars, that the Jedi Order was able to put the tormented specters of Monarchia to rest. And even now, the planet remains lifeless and steeped into the Dark Side."

"Numerous attempts to neutralize Erebus were made by the Republic and the Jedi Order," which was a fancy way of saying that they had tried to kill him – even the Order's most open-minded members hadn't entertained the possibility of capturing that monster alive or turn him to the Light, "but all ended in failure. Darth Erebus was a powerful Sith Sorcerer and oracle, capable of extracting visions from the Force. These visions warned him of every effort to kill him ahead of time, which led to the death and capture of numerous Republic operatives – including Jedi, some of whom were broken by Erebus and turned to the Dark Side."

Not, unfortunately, a unique occurrence in the Great War, where turning Jedi to the Dark Side had been a favorite pastime of numerous sadistic Sith Lords, but Erebus' converts had apparently been disturbing to confront even among that tragic group. The journal of a Jedi Knight who'd faced one of his fallen friends had been clear that nothing had remained of the once-noble Jedi they'd known, only a shell driven by madness, horror, and a desire to share their misery with the rest of the galaxy.

"Then, one day, Erebus simply left the frontlines and never returned. After several months, Jedi Masters of the time reported sensing his death, but the Force at the time was clouded by war, the deaths of so many Force-users and non-Force sensitives like, as well as the machinations of the Sith Emperor, so there was little information about how the self-proclaimed 'Hand of Destiny' met his end. Republic spies only managed to learn that Darth Erebus had returned to his holdings on Dromund Kaas, the Empire's capital, in order to oversee the final trials of his apprentices – of which he had several, as was common at the time."

"I think I see where this is going," commented Master Windu. "Cain killed him, didn't he ?"

"That is the conclusion Republic Intelligence reached at the time, yes," Jocasta confirmed. "And it was the popular belief within the Sith Empire itself, though Cain himself never spoke about it one way or another. In any case, within a year of Darth Erebus' alleged death, his forces returned to the front, now led by the newly-ascended Darth Cain, who was said to have been elevated to his exalted rank by the Sith Emperor himself."

The Council had already been focused on her exposé, of course, but now, their attention sharpened. They were getting to the meat of the matter, the reason why Jocasta was here.

"Earlier, you mentioned that he was a great military commander ?" prompted Master Mundi.

"He was," confirmed the Chief Librarian. "From the after-action reports of the very first battles in which he participated, it is clear that Darth Cain's tactics were completely at odds with those of his late and unlamented Master, who was more focused on causing as much pain as possible than on following proper military strategy. One theory is that Darth Erebus specifically trained this way, in order to compensate for his own weakness in that area."

"Darth Cain was known for leading his forces from the front, crushing all opposition arrayed before him through a combination of his mastery of military tactics, his great prowess with a lightsaber, and his unique use of the Force to inspire terror in his enemies while rendering his own troops seemingly fearless – albeit never to the point of committing foolish mistakes due to overconfidence. He was also suspected to share some of his Master's oracular gifts, as he managed to foil his enemies' moves time and time again by being at the right place at the right time. Another thing of note about him was that he had no war crime to his name, which is almost unique in the entire war."

And, though there was no point in mentioning it here, not just on the Imperial side, as decades of gruelling conflict slowly, inevitably eroded the morals of the Republic Army, grief turning to hate and hate turning heroes into monsters ready to do anything to defeat the Empire.

"He is known to have gone out of his way to ensure civilian populations were affected as little as possible by the conflict, and treated surrendered enemies with dignity and respect. There are several recorded instances of him participating in prisoner exchanges with the Republic, and he always behaved with honor in these exchanges – even when the exchanges were of common soldiers, which most Sith Lords of the time would have abandoned to their fate, blaming their weakness for being taken alive instead of fighting to the death."

"That seems out of character for a Sith," noted Master Trebor. "Especially one trained by someone like that Erebus you described."

Jocasta shrugged. "The Republic was just as confused as you at the time, but this approach paid off for Darth Cain several times. Most notably on Perlia itself, where he personally led the strike force which killed the ruling royal family of the time, before claiming the entire world in the name of the Empire. Due to how … unpopular, the previous dynasty had become due to poor management and its conduct of the war, Cain's lack of atrocities and honorable presentation led to him being welcomed as a liberator by a not insignificant portion of the population."

"That's … how ?" asked Master Mundi, his surprise clear to see. "How could the Perlians possibly think a Sith was better than their previous rulers ?"

"Perlian records of the period are understandably messy," explained Jocasta, "and it is difficult to part the truth from Imperial propaganda. However, it is clear that the old dynasty was unworthy of its rank. They committed numerous crimes against their own population to satiate their greed, hiding their deeds from the rest of the Republic and the Jedi Order. Things were so bad that even though the Great War had been going on for nearly twenty years by that point, with numerous examples of Sith atrocities, the Perlians were still willing to throw their lot in with Cain if it meant an end to the previous rulers' abuses."

"Who were these rulers, exactly ?" asked Master Windu with morbid curiosity.

"We don't know," shrugged Jocasta, masking how much that lacuna in the records irked her. "The people of Perlia pronounced them damnatio memoriae and wiped out all mentions of their names in their texts. All we have left is hearsay, but even that paints quite the bleak picture."

The fact that this erasure had reached all the way to the Republic's records led Jocasta to believe some splicing had been involved, which meant a truly impressive level of spite on the Perlians' part – that, or someone on Coruscant had agreed with the whole thing.

"To get back to Cain, he was awarded Perlia as his own personal fiefdom by the Dark Council, the ruling body of the Empire, and spent the next decades building it up into his own personal power base, with the locals becoming fanatically devoted to him."

"A Sith Lord still, Cain was, however devoted to him his people might have been," said Master Yoda. "Treacherous and deceptive, the ways of the Dark Side are. Taken advantage of Perlia's history to his own benefit, Darth Cain seems to have."

"That is true," admitted Jocasta. "And there's no denying the fact that Darth Cain was a powerful Sith, strong in the Dark Side like few others even in an era where thousands of Sith were running around the galaxy. And he was very good at playing the deadly politics of the Empire : Among the Dark Council, Darth Cain was known to be on good terms with at least Darth Marr and Darth Imperius, two of its most powerful members, and on somewhat neutral terms with the rest."

"So he didn't have enemies among the Sith ?" asked Master Windu, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," the Chief Librarian corrected. "He made plenty of enemies with his meteoric rise, you can be sure of that. It's just that they didn't tend to live long after starting to move against Cain. The list of Sith kills attributed to Cain is nearly as long as that of his victory against the Republic, and those are only the ones which Republic Intelligence could learn about. In most of them, the other Sith made the first move, but not always : if there was a pattern, it wasn't one the Republic was able to figure out."

"Cain was on the frontline of the war when the Sacking of Coruscant forced the Republic to agree to a cease-fire, and then to a treaty skewed in the Empire's favor. As far as I could find, he wasn't involved in the Sacking in any way, and allowed the Republic troops he was fighting at the time to withdraw peacefully, before returning to Perlia and focusing on building up its infrastructure."

"He was preparing for the next war," deduced Master Mundi. "Like the rest of the Empire."

"Like the rest of the galaxy," corrected Jocasta. "Back then, everyone was rebuilding with an eye on the next war. Nobody thought the peace would last long : it was a surprise to everyone that it ended up reaching three decades. After the end of the Cold War era and the start of the Second Great Galactic War, the Dark Council used Cain to shore up fronts where the usual internal conflicts of the Sith had put the Empire's position into jeopardy. It was believed by Republic strategists that, if not for his contribution, the Sith Empire would have been on the verge of complete collapse by the time of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul's reveal and lightning conquest of the entire galaxy."

Information about that period of galactic history was scarce : for some reason, not many historians had been too keen on recording how the two great galactic powers had been brought to their knees in a matter of months by a small, previously unknown power in the Unknown Regions.

"The Second Great Galactic War ended, and the Republic and the Sith Empire were both forced to pay crushing tributes to Zakuul, but Perlia was spared from these tithes for some reason. It was thought that reason was related to High Justice Vaylin, Darth Cain's sole apprentice – despite many, many Sith desiring such a prestigious position for themselves."

"Of this Vaylin, what do we know ?" asked Master Yoda. "Powerful in the Force she is, yet great darkness and greater turmoil, I sensed in her, even from a recording."

"Vaylin was the High Justice of Zakuul, younger sister to Emperor Arcann, who ascended to the Eternal Throne after the death of their ruler, Valkorion," said Jocasta. "Like her brother, she was born from the union of a Knight of Zakuul, the Empire's order of Force users, and their Immortal Emperor, Valkorion, later revealed to be a vessel of the Sith Emperor himself."

"A 'vessel' ?" asked Master Plo Koon, shocked. "What do you mean by that ?"

"Like all Sith, the Emperor was terrified of death. In order to cheat it, he learned to move his consciousness, his essence, between bodies, so that he could survive their destruction. The Emperor who was slain by the Hero of Tython during the Second Great Galactic War was one such vessel, and Valkorion was another. To the best of our knowledge, there are no records of other Sith Lords managing the same feat, something for which we can all thank the Force."

There was a moment of tense silence, as the Council processed this revelation. Eventually, Jocasta cleared her throat and continued :

"We know even less about Vaylin's early life than we do about Cain's, but she had a reputation as an incredibly powerful Force user, with the potential to even surpass her father. She was also cruel and unstable, a product of her education, prone to the same outbursts of violence shown by most Darksiders. During Zakuul's galactic conquest, she led the fleet tasked with subjugating Perlia, and met with Darth Cain before leaving the system untouched. Nobody knew what to make of it : theories ranged from Cain convincing her that her brother was using her as a tool to him fighting her in a duel and defeating her – the first Force-wielder to ever do so – to him seducing her."

Which, considering Cain was several decades older than Vaylin, was creepy in an entirely new way. For the young woman's sake, Jocasta hoped one of the other theories was correct.

"Vaylin returned to Darth Cain's side several years later, when Zakuul's grip on the galaxy was starting to slip. He declared her his apprentice after the defeat of the Eternal Fleet by the galactic Alliance, a conglomerate of multiple factions led by the Hero of Tython, who had returned from their presumed death. It was then that the Invincible was revealed to the galaxy."

"If the ship which appeared in Perlia truly is the Invincible, then we must know all we can of its capabilities," said Master Windu. "What do you have for us, Madame Nu ?"

"The construction of Darth Cain's flagship began sometime near the end of the First Galactic War, and continued for decades in Perlia, with Cain using all the influence and favors his service to the Sith Empire accrued to advance and improve it," she replied. "Since he could have assembled several fleets with the amount of resources that went into the superdreadnought, Republic Intelligence believed that the Invincible was the one thing where Cain indulged in the usual self-aggrandizement and arrogance typical of the Sith, by pouring far more resources into one grandiose project than it was worth. However, at the final battle between the Alliance and Zakuul's Eternal Fleet, it proved worth every credit, and was instrumental in the Eternal Fleet's defeat and Emperor Arcann's capture by the Hero of Tython."

"Conquered the entire galaxy, the Eternal Fleet had," said Master Yoda. "Though weakened by war, both Republic and Empire were, not a small feat, their defeat was. To even dare defy it, great courage it must have taken."

"The Invincible wasn't alone," Jocasta hastened to point out. "The Alliance Commander's flagship, the Gravestone, was the keystone of the entire Alliance Fleet. But yes, the Invincible was of great help, not to mention the fact that Darth Cain's mere presence in the Alliance helped convince many Imperials to join it, despite being led by a Jedi."

"Even though the Republic and the Empire cooperated in defeating Zakuul, this Alliance didn't last long, did it ?" asked Master Mundi.

"No, it did not," Jocasta shook her head. "Soon after the fall of the Eternal Throne, the Alliance crumbled, and the Third Great Galactic War began. Darth Cain fought in it, but this time, even he couldn't stop the inevitable. The Empire had bled itself dry, and while the Republic had suffered greatly, it had many more worlds to draw upon, and was far less divided and prone to lethal infighting as the Sith. Yet even so, Darth Cain didn't fall in battle against the Jedi : instead, his last recorded sighting was when he led his forces to participate in the subjugation of the Emperor's Cult, a sect of Darksiders who worshipped the dead Sith Emperor and sought to bring him back from the dead. Since the Emperor had sought to destroy the galaxy to fuel his immortality before, and attempted to usurp control of the Alliance, it was something no one wanted, even in the middle of a war. Again, details on this operation are scarce …"

"That seems to be something of a running theme where Darth Cain is concerned," intervened Master Windu. "I wonder why."

"… Indeed. What we know is that it took place in the Unknown Regions, on a world named Molech. The Jedi who survived the battle were scarred by the experience, and described the world as haunted by a darkness older than even the First Schism of our Order which led to the rise of the Sith Order on Korriban. Still, victory was achieved, with the physical body of the Sith Emperor, which he had abandoned decades prior, being destroyed, and the last of his essence either destroyed or dissipated in the Dark Side of the Force, while the cult was wiped out to the last."

The records had made no mention of surrender being offered to the cultists. It seemed that the Emperor's manipulations had succeeded in uniting the entire galaxy against him, and nobody – nobody – wanted to leave any chance whatsoever of his return. The thought that a being of such power and malevolence had ever existed was enough to send a shiver down Jocasta's spine.

"With the Battle of Molech over, the Invincible set course for Perlia – and never arrived, seemingly disappearing in hyperspace, despite every other Sith vessel present successfully returning. There was a lot of violent debate as to what had happened, with the Sith Empire blaming the Republic and the Republic either blaming his Sith rivals or checking if some rogue element was indeed responsible, but nothing came out of it."

"It cannot have been deliberate, that much is obvious," asserted Master Plo. "While I can imagine a Sith trying to escape defeat by fleeing into the future, the risks involved are incalculable."

"Are we sure of that ?" questioned Master Windu. "The risks might be too great for us, but Cain had demonstrated his abilities time and time again, and Madame Nu told us the Invincible was packed with experimental technology. Could some Imperial mad scientists have designed something like this ?"

"At this time, no way to find out, there is," cut in Master Yoda. "Focus on what we do know, we should. Madame Nu, finish the tale, you must."

"Yes, Master Yoda. When the Sith Empire collapsed at the end of the Third Great Galactic War, Perlia petitioned to rejoin the Republic. I have tracked down the original text of their rejoining, however, and it is clearly written that Darth Cain, when he returns – when, not if – would still be considered the lawful ruler of the system. The Republic diplomats chose to accept rather than force Perlia back into the fold through strength of arms, which the military's analysis indicates would have been long and costly, especially at this time, with the Republic only barely less exhausted by war than the Empire. Besides, everyone thought Cain was dead."

"So if Darth Cain truly has returned, then his takeover of Perlia is legal ?" Master Plo asked for clarification.

"I am no expert in the laws of the Republic, but it appears so to me, yes."

The Masters exchanged glances, their consternation bleeding into the Force.

"Then we cannot simply arrest Cain for being a Sith," said Master Mundi, a pained expression on his face. "Not only would doing so be very difficult due to the Invincible's presence and that of its troops, but we simply lack any legal reason to do so. With the situation in the Outer Rim as tense as it is, such an act would further inflame the Separatist Movement.

"What should we do, then ?" asked Master Windu. "Already his apprentice has declared war on the Hutts. If we do nothing, the entire Outer Rim will be bathed in blood as Sith fight criminals for control of the region."

"More information, we need, on Darth Cain's purpose and motives," declared Master Yoda. "Old, our sources are, and not unbiased as well. If in the past, willing to fight alongside Jedi Darth Cain was, to talk to them now, he might be."

"The Senate will need to react to what's happening soon, too," said Master Windu. "They are going to want to send someone to investigate, and the fact that there are Sith involved means this is a matter for the Order. We can send someone along, both as protection and to provide a Jedi perspective. The question is, who do we send ?"

"If on Perlia, a Sith Lord there is, then no less than a Master, we should send. And a member of the Council, it should be, lest as an insult, our approach be taken by Darth Cain."

"I volunteer," said Master Plo. "But I would appreciate some support."

"Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker, accompany you will," decided Master Yoda. "See for yourselves the truth of Darth Cain, and of his plans and ambitions, you must. Careful, you will need to be."

Master Plo Koon was a veteran of the Stark Hyperspace War of two decades ago, one of the few Jedi in the entire Order with actual wartime experience. And Kenobi, of course, was the Sith Slayer, who had defeated Darth Maul after the Sith had killed his Master Qui-Gon Jin. And they were both renowned diplomats, with many missions under their belt : sending the two of them to Perlia made sense.

As for Skywalker, whether one agreed that he was the Chosen One of prophecy or not (and, if he was, then trying to keep him from Perlia was foolish), there was no denying the boy's strength in the Force and skill with a lightsaber. Even Jocasta, who spent her time in the Archives, had heard about his prowess. Sending a Padawan to a world openly controlled by the Sith sat ill with her, but she must trust the Council knew what they were doing – certainly there didn't seem to be any opposition to Master Yoda's decision.

"Call Knight Kenobi to inform him of his new assignment, we must. Madame Nu, leave your findings with us, please do, so that share them with him, we can."

"Of course," she bowed slightly. "May the Force be with you, Masters."

---

As he sat in his office, deep in thought, Sheev Palpatine, Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and secret Dark Lord of the Sith, reflected that, for once, someone looking at him would assume he was thinking about precisely what he actually was : the events of Perlia and Tatooine, and what they meant for the galaxy going forward.

The game board, which he had thought he was in perfect control of as the galaxy slowly slid toward civil war, had completely changed. He was half-way through his second four-years term as Supreme Chancellor, and things had been progressing very well since he had killed his former master Darth Plagueis and claimed the positions of Dark Lord of the Sith and ultimate authority in the Republic. Tensions had been growing between the Outer Rim and the Core, with his new apprentice, Darth Tyranus, stoking the flames of discontent in preparation for the secession of an entire portion of the Republic's constituent sectors. All to trigger a war which would allow him to gain more and more power while draining the numbers of the hated Jedi, paving the way for their eventual extermination and his takeover.

And now, this.

Sidious knew Darth Cain was no imposter. Like the Jedi, he had felt the disturbance in the Force when the Invincible had returned from hyperspace, but unlike these Light-blinded fools, he could feel the great and terrible power that had returned to the galaxy along with it. The return of its ancient champion had the Dark Side howling with delight, and Sidious' ability to perceive the future was drowning in a maelstrom of images of bloodshed, destruction and transformation. The galaxy's future had been thrown off-course, and the Grand Plan he and Darth Tyranus had been following could no longer be relied upon, not without significant adjustments.

So be it. A true Sith could adapt to any setback, and turn any unexpected circumstance into an opportunity. This would be no different, and Sidious would emerge all the more powerful for it.

Varan's death, which he had sensed echoing in the Force (although the pirate hadn't been a true apprentice, there'd been enough of a connection between them for him to feel his demise) wasn't a great loss in the grand scheme of things. Sidious had always planned to dispose of the little pirate eventually : probably by having Dooku kill him, which would have helped strengthen his image as the protector of the Outer Rim in the place of the ineffectual Republic.

Darth Cain himself was a far greater concern. For a thousand years, the Line of Bane had been the sole Sith lineage in the galaxy : while there had always been strife between Master and Apprentice, as was only proper, there hadn't been an actual divergence of goals. The Banite Sith had always sought the destruction of the Jedi and control of the galaxy, even as their methods had varied throughout the centuries. Now, however, for the first time since Darth Bane had orchestrated the destruction of the Brotherhood of Darkness, there was another Sith Lord in the galaxy.

Regardless of era, regardless of creed and lineage, all Sith sought the same thing : domination. Cain was no different, could be no different. He wouldn't have survived in the Sith Empire otherwise, let alone risen to the prestigious heights of power and influence he'd reached before its collapse. His apprentice's declaration of war against the Hutt Cartels and other slavers of the Outer Rim was just a facade, a mask to deceive the rest of the galaxy into leaving him alone while he rebuilt his power base. Vaylin might well believe her own words about bringing freedom, but there was a reason she was the apprentice and Cain the Master.

Or maybe it was more than that, the Chancellor suddenly realized. While Palpatine obviously hadn't trusted Varan with his civilian identity, the pirate had known him as Darth Sidious. If the fool had talked before his death, revealed who he was working for, then Cain's declaration of war suddenly took another meaning entirely. If Cain believed there was a Sith Lord pulling the strings of the Outer Rim's criminal scene, one responsible for the attack on Perlia, then his true objective became obvious. He wasn't freeing slaves, he was hunting Sidious, albeit in the wrong place.

Hunting for his one true rival left in the galaxy, whose existence had been revealed to him mere moments after his return. Sidious couldn't help but see the will of the Force at play here – the Dark Side testing him, testing the Line of Bane, to see whether they were truly worthy of ruling the galaxy.

How long had it been, mused the Supreme Chancellor, since he'd a rival ? Not an enemy, he had plenty of those, but a true, proper rival, someone against whom he could hone his skills in the way of the Dark Side ? Not since he'd killed Plagueis, he reckoned, and even the old Muun hadn't really been worthy of the name, foolishly trusting in his apprentice as he had.

He paused, thoughts of Master and apprentice bringing another worrying possibility to mind. Did Cain know about Anakin already ? Had he sent his apprentice to Tatooine in order to ingratiate himself to the Jedi's precious Chosen One by playing on his past as a slave on that Force-forsaken ball of sand ? It should be impossible for him to have learned of Anakin so soon, but Darth Cain had made a habit of doing the seemingly impossible before his disappearance. And while Cain already had an apprentice, and one so powerful Sidious had felt her power all the way on Coruscant when she had unleashed it against Jabba, he was no part of the Line of Bane : the ancient Sith had often had more than one apprentice at a time.

The thought of Darth Cain having both Vaylin and Anakin under his thumb caused a twist in his guts that was far too close to fear for his liking. The young boy's power had grown by leaps and bounds since becoming Kenobi's Padawan : while still nowhere near Palpatine's own level, there was no doubt that he would eventually surpass him, even constrained by the ignorant scriptures of the Jedi.

The prospect of binding that limitless potential into his service was why, for years, Palpatine had carefully groomed Anakin for his future role as his apprentice. He had stoked the flames of his anger at the Jedi Order by subtly insinuating that they deliberately chose not to intervene in the Outer Rim to stop slavery, rather than being hamstrung by the Senate and forced to rely on their frustratingly-elusive Shadows to secretly support the liberation networks operating beyond the Republic's reach. The thought of all his effort benefiting Cain instead filled him with fury, and he barely managed to suppress a snarl when his secretary called him over the comm :

"Chancellor, Senator Donali and the Jedi Masters are here for your meeting."

He took a deep breath, schooled his expression, and checked the veils concealing his Force sensitivity and Dark Side presence from detection. Only once he was certain they were firmly in place did he answer :

"Good. Send them in, please."

Four sentients entered : Senator Donali and his aide, along with Masters Yoda and Windu. Palpatine greeted each of them warmly, concealing the hatred he felt for the two Jedi and the contempt he felt for everyone beyond himself with an ease born of decades of constant practice.

"Master Jedi, Senator Donali, thank you for meeting with me. I understand this is a trying time for all of you."

"It certainly has been a challenging few days," admitted Donali with a tired smile.

Donali was the Senator of the Damocles Sector, in which the Perlia system was located. Unlike many Outer Rim Senators, years of exposure to the Senate hadn't eroded his morals and sense of duty to his constituents, though he was no naive ingenue either, being well used to the wheedling and deal-making that made up Republican politics.

In Sidious' opinion, the man would make a useful asset for the Confederacy of Independent Systems Dooku was working to build, once his faith in the Republic was well and truly shattered. Making him turn like that had been one of the goals of the raid on Perlia, along with securing the Sith artefacts rumored to remain on the planet for Sidious' own collection.

"Have you received any further information about the situation on Perlia ?" asked Palpatine once they were all seated.

"I have," confirmed the Senator, immediately drawing sharp gazes from the two Jedi. "I received a message from Lio Trevellyan, the Regent of Perlia – or former Regent, I should say. He informed me that the Perlian government has enacted a set of protocols which have been part of the planet's constitution for thousands of years, passing power into the hands of Darth Cain upon his return."

"You mean to tell us that this … this takeover is legal ?" asked Palpatine, faking shock. In truth, while the fact that there had actually been a law in place for such an occasion was somewhat surprising, it didn't really matter, not with Cain's sheer power. But of course, it wouldn't do for the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic to not be concerned by the legalities of the whole thing.

"According to my team who went over our records of Perlian laws, yes, I am afraid so. If this Darth Cain is really who he claims to be, then him being crowned Sovereign of Perlia is perfectly legal."

"That's ridiculous," Palpatine protested, still playing his role. "Even if these laws existed prior to this, it's obvious they were ceremonial, not actually meant to be put in practice. Surely this warlord must have threatened them into activating them, right ? With a ship that size in the system, the government wouldn't have any choice but to accede to his demands."

"Whether by law, or by strength, Cain took Perlia, we do not know," said Yoda. "Confused, the situation remains. More, we need to learn, before to a course of action, we commit."

"If this Cain really is a Sith, then this is a matter for the Order, isn't it ?" asked Palpatine. "I remember that name being thrown around after what happened on Naboo six years ago. Some kind of religious sect opposed to the Order, if I recall ?"

"That's right," confirmed Windu. "The Sith have always been the enemies of the Jedi and the Republic. We thought them destroyed, though the events of Naboo forced us to reconsider. But unless we gather the full might of the Order, we cannot simply march on Perlia to capture him – not with that ship of his in the system, let alone the armed forces he has already landed on the planet. We are keepers of the peace, not soldiers, and this … this would definitely be a matter for soldiers, I'm afraid. The Order simply doesn't have the resources to take on this ancient Sith army on its own. We'd need support, and a lot of it."

"It might not get to that," cut in Donali. While the Senator's pazaak face was very good, Sidious could sense his unease at how casually the Jedi were discussing war on one of the worlds he was responsible for. "Trevellyan told me things had been quiet so far : Cain's people have been helping with rebuilding in the wake of the pirate raid, and the kidnapped citizens have been returned safe and in good health. That doesn't sound like the actions of some power-mad ancient evil to me."

"Cunning and subtle, the ways of the Sith are," warned Yoda. Sidious suppressed a smirk. Oh, if only you knew, you pathetic green creature. "Biding his time, Cain may be."

"Regardless, I can't approve of any military response until we know for certain Cain is a threat to the Republic," Donali said firmly, before adding : "I understand you want to investigate the situation, however, so I propose a compromise : I intend to go to Perlia immediately, to meet with Darth Cain in person and discuss the future of Perlia in the Damocles Sector. To be perfectly honest, I would feel a lot better about it if I was accompanied by a Jedi guard."

"To send an investigation to Perlia, the Jedi Council decided. Have them accompany you, a good idea it is," agreed Yoda.

"And who exactly have you chosen for such a dangerous task ?" asked Palpatine, a mask of false concern on his face.

"Master Plo Koon and Knight Kenobi," answered Windu. "We agreed that they were the best for the job out of the Jedi available at the moment."

"Good, good," Palpatine nodded. "Master Kenobi has experience with the Sith, after all. I presume young Skywalker will be present on this mission as well ?"

"Accompany his Master, Padawan Skywalker will," confirmed Yoda. "Unusual the situation is, but proven himself capable in such, the boy already has."

Sidious gave it a moments consideration. He could try to stop Anakin from accompanying Obi-Wan, play the part of the concerned, grandfatherly Supreme Chancellor, who didn't want a fifteen-year old boy dragged into such a dangerous situation. It wouldn't damage his image in any way : his interest in Anakin was known to the Order, though they thought it concern for the boy who'd helped save his homeworld from the Trade Federation's invasion and nothing more.

With any luck, Obi-Wan would get himself killed by Darth Cain without Sidious needing to get his hands dirty, removing the greatest obstacle to his control over the boy. But that risked turning Anakin against him, especially since he had gone to great lengths to cultivate the boy's mix of arrogance, insecurities, and desperate need for validation.

No, he would have to take the risk and hope that Anakin was strong enough to survive Perlia. Besides, for all of Darth Cain's power, surely he couldn't achieve in a single meeting what Sidious had been orchestrating for years. And exposure to a Sith Lord who had ordered the liberation of his homeworld's slaves would only deepen Anakin's doubts toward the Jedi Order and leave him more vulnerable to the lure of the Dark Side.

"Then it is decided," he said. "Still, there is the matter of Tatooine to consider. Cain's takeover of Perlia might be legal under Republican law, but surely the actions of this young woman and her army weren't ? Even if it were in the name of freeing people from bondage, such a violent execution, and publicly broadcast too … Has there been any word from the Hutts ? Their representative on Coruscant has been silent. Have you heard anything, Master Jedi ?"

"Nothing, we have heard," replied Yoda. "But guesses, we can make. Not lying down, the Cartels will take Jabba's death. If Darth Cain remains free, then war in the Outer Rim, between the Sith and the Hutts, it will be."

"That's … the public won't care," he sighed. Of course they wouldn't : the Banites had spent a thousand years widening the divide between the Core and the Outer Rim in any way they could, though they couldn't take the credit for it all – they had mostly taken advantage of pre-existing prejudices and tendencies. "There might even be support for Cain, given how his apprentice presented the whole thing as an anti-slavery crusade."

"A great shame for the Republic, the continued existence of slavery in the Rim is," said Yoda solemnly. "Clever it was of Cain, to use it as a pretext. But until uncovered his true purpose is, then carefully we must tread."

"I will do everything in my power to keep things under control here while you go to Perlia," Palpatine said to Donali – which, for once, wasn't even a lie. "Be careful, my friend."

"I will," promised the Senator. "I assure you, I've no intention of being the first casualty of a new Republic-Sith war."

---

Anakin was confused.

Obi-Wan and him had been at the Temple when the disturbance had shaken the Force. It had been bad, especially for Anakin, who was both more sensitive to the Force and less experienced in keeping its influence at bay when needed.

Then the news from Tatooine had arrived. Jabba the Hutt, who had ruled over Anakin's homeworld for far, far longer than he'd been alive, was dead. Killed by a Sith, who had also freed all the slaves across the planet – and he'd checked, using his slicing skills to navigate the Holonet reports and communications in ways that just barely walked the line between legal and not : the woman hadn't just said it, she'd actually done it. The slaves of Tatooine were free.

It brought up mixed feelings in Anakin. On the one hand, he was happy, deliriously so. He remembered being a slave all too well – the knowledge that at any moment, your master could kill you with the push of a button, or sell you to someone else, and there was nothing you could do about it. By Tatooine standards, Watto hadn't even been that bad of a master – but that meant nothing, because Anakin had still been a slave, still been property.

On the other hand, when Anakin had left, he'd promised to come back and free the slaves himself. Now, that couldn't happen. He felt ashamed that this was apparently what concerned him : what did it matter who freed the slaves, so long as they were free ? It was arrogance to think that it should have been him leading the revolt.

Except it did matter, didn't it ? Because the woman, this Vaylin, was a Sith. Watching her kill Jabba (while Obi-Wan wasn't there, because he probably wouldn't approve of his Padawan seeing such a gruesome spectacle), he'd felt the darkness around her. He'd never felt anything like it, even when he'd seen Maul, right before leaving Tatooine. Even with his lack of training at the time, he'd been able to feel the Zabrak's presence, full of anger and hate.

Vaylin was like that, except a lot more powerful. And not as … broken, was the only word that came to mind. Listening to her speech, he had heard her sincerity, the conviction that only someone who had lived under the control of another could possess.

And that, too, confused him.

He knew why Master Qui-Gon hadn't freed all the slaves on Tatooine six years ago, of course – he had known that from the beginning, even if he hadn't been able to stop himself from hoping. Qui-Gon had been alone, with just Obi-Wan, a handful of Nabooan guards, and a bunch of civilians (including Padmé) he had to protect.

Even if he could've walked into Jabba's Palace and killed him, he didn't have the veritable army of soldiers and special forces Vaylin had brought with her to help him coordinate a planet-wide slave liberation. All Qui-Gon would have achieved was to get himself killed, put Padmé in danger, and then another Hutt would have replaced Jabba and nothing would have changed.

Anakin knew that. And yet, he couldn't help but wonder why it was that, after centuries of oppression, the people of Tatooine – his people, no matter how much he tried to distance himself from his past, the way the Jedi Code demanded – had needed to be saved by a Sith and not a Jedi.

Sure, Vaylin had been sent by this Darth Cain, who had the largest ship Anakin had ever heard about (and how kriffing cool was that, a ship thousands of years old but still functioning perfectly ?) and an entire army aboard it. But the Republic had over a million worlds, more resources and people than Anakin could imagine. There were thousands of Jedi in the Order, and he knew the Order had resources and contacts he'd never heard about. They should have been able to do what Vaylin had done years, decades ago. And yet – and yet –

The sound of the door opening drew him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Obi-Wan entering their shared quarters, a pensive expression on his face.

"Master, what did the Council want ?" the Padawan asked. Obi-Wan had been gone for over an hour, longer than any briefing Anakin remembered.

"We are going to Perlia, Anakin," Obi-Wan told him.

"Perlia ?!" Anakin startled. "Isn't that where …"

"Yes, it is," Obi-Wan nodded. "As you probably guessed, the Council is worried about the situation there. Our mission is to escort a Senator on a diplomatic meeting with whoever is in charge, and learn all we can about the situation while were are at it. We aren't to engage this 'Darth Cain' or anyone else in combat : this is strictly a fact-gathering mission. Do you understand ? It's important, Anakin. We will be in the same system as tens of thousands of soldiers and Force knows how many Dark Side adepts. All of whom, based on the information we have, have been fighting a galactic war against the Republic and the Jedi for most of their lives. If things turn violent, then we'll already have lost."

"I understand, Master," he assured Obi-Wan. And he did. Really, he did ! He wasn't going to look for a fight with a Sith Lord, especially one who had saved a planet from pirates and then liberated another from the Hutts. He wasn't a Jedi yet, sure, but he wasn't that dumb. He actually felt a little offended Obi-Wan thought he might be.

Obi-Wan looked at him for a moment, but whatever he was looking for in his expression, he must have found it, because he nodded in approval.

"Good. Master Plo Koon is preparing a ship for us, but before we go, there's someone else I want to talk to. Gather your things, then come with me."

Ten minutes later – the two of them were good at packing, and they didn't have a lot of stuff to bring along in the first place beyond a few essentials – Anakin was following Obi-Wan through the Temple. He led them to another of the resting quarters, before knocking on a specific door. After a moment, it opened, revealing a Human male with long black hair, who smiled at the sight of his Master.

"Obi !" he greeted them. "Good to see you, my friend."

"Quin, good to see you to," replied Obi-Wan with a warm smile Anakin had only very rarely seen on his Master's face, before turning to introduce him : "Anakin, this is Quinlan Vos, one of the Order's best Shadows and an old friend of mine. Quin, this is Anakin Skywalker, my Padawan."

Anakin blinked, and looked at the man with new eyes. Jedi Shadows were the secret agents of the Order, doing things that the Order couldn't officially be associated with, such as interfacing with criminal networks or operating beyond Republic space.

"I can neither confirm nor deny anything about that," said the man with a grin. "That being said, pleased to meet you, kid, and my condolences for having this stick-in-the-mud as your Master. I really should have met you before now, but well, you know how it is. The Council keeps me busy, just like it does your Master. Speaking of, what do you want, Obi ? I'm on a bit of a time crunch here."

"I don't doubt it, but I need a favor, Quin. The Council is sending you to Tatooine, aren't they ?"

"You know I can't talk to you about my assignments, Obi." There was a moment of silence, before the Shadow added with a smile : "But, speaking strictly hypothetically, if I were going to Tatooine, what would that have to do with you ?"

"While you are here, there is someone I would like for you to check on," explained Obi-Wan. Anakin blinked. Surely Obi-Wan couldn't mean what he thought he did. "See how they are doing, make sure they are okay with everything that happened."

"Oh ?" Quinlan's gaze sharpened. "I didn't know you had any acquaintances that far from the Core, Obi. Who is it and why are they important ?"

"Shmi Skywalker," replied Obi-Wan, and Anakin tried to conceal the spike of confusion he felt at hearing his mother's name spoken aloud for the first time in … far, far too long. "A human woman, who was a slave in Mos Espa for a Toydarian named Watto, a junk dealer."

"Skywalker," Quinlan repeated, his gaze flicking to Obi-Wan's Padawan before returning to him, the unspoken question obvious in his eyes.

"Yes," replied Obi-Wan with a straight face. "She helped my Master when we were stranded on Tatooine during the Naboo Crisis six years ago."

"And there is no other reason why you want to make sure she is okay, I am sure," drawled the Shadow. "Very well, Obi. I will do it."

"Really ?" Anakin blurted out, before blushing at his outburst.

"Yes, Padawan Skywalker. I will find Shmi Skywalker and make sure she is alright; and if she isn't, I will help change that. If I find myself on Tatooine, of course," he added, winking.

"Of course," Obi-Wan deadpanned. "Hypothetically speaking."

"Exactly. Now run along, I have a ship to catch, and so do you."

"Very well. Thank you for your help, Quin. I look forward to hearing from you."

Anakin managed to stay quiet for a whole five seconds after the door to Quinlan's quarters had closed before speaking :

"Thank you, Master."

Obi-Wan cared. Anakin knew he did. It was just hard to remember it sometimes, because Obi-Wan was always the Perfect Jedi, which meant he didn't who any emotions, something Anakin hadn't managed yet.

"Think nothing of it, my Padawan. … Really," the Jedi Knight said, a sorrowful (guilty ?) expression briefly flashing on his face. "Think nothing of it."

---

"Master," said Count Dooku, bowing his head to the projection of Darth Sidious.

The ruler of Serenno was in his office, surrounded by the pageantry of rulership. He was, of course, alone, and the line of communication between this place and Coruscant was one of the most secure in the entire galaxy : if word spread out that Count Dooku, the Lost Jedi and Outer Rim activist, was in regular communication with the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, their plans would fall to ruin.

Of course, recent events might mean that had already happened anyway.

"My friend. You know why I'm calling you, I trust ?"

"Of course, Master. This is about Darth Cain and the events of Perlia and Tatooine."

"Precisely. I had not foreseen the return of Darth Cain – there wasn't even a whisper of it in the Force before it happened."

Interesting. Dooku hadn't sensed any warning either, only the sudden shock of the Invincible's and its passengers' return to the galaxy, but the fact that it had blind-sided his Master as well was a surprise. Whether it was a pleasant one was still up for debate, but Dooku still noted this limitation of his Master's power.

Treachery and usurpation were the ways of the Sith, after all.

"This will affect our plan greatly," he said, concealing his thoughts with the combined experience of a Jedi Master, a politician, and a Sith Lord. "Already Darth Cain has extended his reach beyond Perlia to Tatooine, and he is unlikely to stop there. Furthermore, faced with the return of the Sith, the Outer Rim will seek the help of the Jedi. I have already been contacted by many Separatist sympathizers looking for answers."

"And what did you tell them, my Apprentice ?"

"That so far, Darth Cain has made no move against legitimate governments, likely to avoid drawing the ire of the Republic. I also pointed out that, in such uncertain times, strengthening ties between our worlds could only be a benefit."

"Good, good. You have learned my lessons about turning the unexpected to your advantage well. I believe Cain knows about my existence, and suspects I, or my power base, is located in the Outer Rim, among the criminal underworld."

"So the anti-slavery rhetoric is merely a cover, then ?"

"Come now, Lord Tyranus," chuckled the Dark Lord. "Do you think a Darth of the old Sith Empire would care about the Hutts' practice of slavery ?"

"Not really," Dooku admitted, "but the girl, Vaylin, seemed sincere in her proclamation."

"And she might very well have been," said Sidious with a dismissive wave of his hand, "but there is a reason she is the Apprentice and Cain the Master, despite her great power."

"We can use Cain as a distraction," Dooku suggested. "After he revealed his presence in such a fashion, the Jedi will be focused on him."

"Yes, but this does not come without drawbacks. After a thousand years, the Republic has forgotten the Sith : besides the Jedi, only a handful of historians truly remember that our Order ever existed. Darth Cain's return will drag us back into the public consciousness."

"I do not think there's anything we can do about that, my lord," said Dooku after a moment of consideration. "We could try to discredit Cain, but that is more likely to backfire and lead the Jedi to us."

"Exactly. While orchestrating an incident or two to convince the Senate to go to war would be simple, given Darth Cain's record, there is the possibility that he might win," spat Darth Sidious, seething with cold rage mixed with what Dooku was certain was envy. "The clone army will not be ready for another few years, and is unlikely to be a match for the Sith Empire's veterans without additional numbers. At the moment, the Republic cannot afford to fight a war against Cain. Therefore, it is in our best interests to ensure his focus remains on the Outer Rim, and against the Hutts. Which is where your part in all this comes in, my friend."

"If Cain is truly committed to war against the Cartels, then not being involved will ruin my credibility as a figurehead for the Separatist Movement, Master," Dooku politely protested. "Nor can I openly side with the Hutts."

Force, he hoped Sidious wouldn't command him to ally with the Hutts. He despised the slug-like aliens for many, many reasons : out of all the races in the galaxy, they were the most vile he had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

"That is not what I would ask of you, Count," Sidious reassured him. "Quite the opposite, in fact. I need you to reach out to Cain in your persona as Serenno's ruler. Present yourself as sympathetic to his public goal of eradicating slavery, and offer him your help in navigating this new galaxy he finds himself in. For all his power, Cain is alone and without allies : he will welcome your assistance, I am sure. Gain his confidence, and ensure that he doesn't realize the truth of the Line of Bane. Then, depending on how things progress, we will act as required for the Great Plan."

It made sense, thought Dooku, even if it meant he would be the most at risk. Even the two Sith Lords knew very little about Darth Cain : much history had been lost over the course of the millennia, or locked away in the restricted archives of the Jedi Temple, where neither Dooku nor Sidious could go without rousing suspicion – especially now.

Under these circumstances, trying to design a plan on the fly would have been foolish. He had no doubt Sidious was already thinking up as many plans as possible, but they needed more information, and they needed more leverage, more options and levers they could push to affect the situation. Joining Cain's faction – for it was inevitable that the ancient Sith Lord would create one – would accomplish all of that in one fell swoop.

"It shall be done, Master," replied Dooku, bowing deeply.

"Be very careful, my friend," warned Sidious. "Cain might be a warrior and a general above all else, but he still survived the politics of the Dark Council of old. He is no naive Jedi nor ignorant Outer Rim politician, and will not be awed by your reputation and mystique."

"I promise you, he shall not suspect a thing," assured the Count of Serenno.

---

"The Force shall set us all free !"

Before the holo could loop back to the start, showing Jabba's execution again, Marlo the Hutt, member of the Council of Elders, pressed a button and stopped the display. He had been watching the recording for an entire hour, again and again, studying the killer, listening to her words, parsing them in his mind for hidden meanings and implications.

This … this changed things. The death of a Hutt, even one as wealthy and influential as Jabba, would have sent shock-waves through the galaxy's underworld under any circumstances, but this was different. Jabba hadn't just been killed by a rival crime lord, or even some naive do-gooder who thought they could somehow make a difference in the galaxy.

No, Tatooine's ruler had been slain by a Sith, one claiming to be Darth Cain's apprentice. And Marlo, unlike almost every being in the galaxy, actually recognized the name. But it had been many, many years since he'd last read it, and his memory wasn't what it once was. Time took its toll on all sentients, even the long-lived Hutts, and at nearly one thousand standard years old, Marlo was approaching the end of his natural lifespan, and he knew it. So he needed to refresh his memory, before calling the rest of the Council to decide how they'd react to this.

"Leave me," he ordered his servants, who had stood silently at attention while he watched the recording, not daring to make a sound. They filed out of the room quickly : Marlo could read the fear in their body language, how terrified they were that he'd vent his anger at Jabba's demise on them.

He snorted. As if he'd cared about his fellow Council member. Once they were gone, he slithered to a hidden panel in the wall of his audience chamber, and input a series of thirty-seven digits before spitting at the DNA scanner. Only then did the secret passage open, the secret, reinforced door closing behind the Hutt's imposing bulk as he passed through the tunnel beyond, eventually emerging into a small domed chamber, whose lights automatically turned on at his entrance.

Every wall was covered in shelves, which were filled with recordings, while at the center of the room stood a computer to access them. None of his servants were allowed within this section of his estate, which was maintained by a couple of maintenance droids which hadn't left its confines since their first activation – just like their predecessors, and their predecessors' predecessors.

Within it were some of Marlo's most precious possessions : the personal journals of his forebears, left behind so that their descendants could make use of their accumulated knowledge and wisdom – though in truth, they were more monuments to their authors' vanity than anything else, meant to ensure their self-perceived greatness was preserved for all time.

Not that Marlo had anything against that, of course. His own personal records were already in the room, waiting for the time one of his descendants claimed his estate on Nal Hutta.

Because the Hutts lived for so long, what had become myth and legend for other species was still relatively recent history for them. Marlo's forebears had met and clashed with the Sith Lord called Darth Cain before, in the days of the Great Galactic War between the Sith Empire and the Republic. The Cartels had been mostly neutral in this conflict, taking no side while doing their best to benefit from it as best they could, just like they always had since the fall of the Hutt Empire and the species' shift from military supremacy to mercantile dominion.

On Nar Shadda, Quesh and Makeb, Darth Cain had meddled in Hutt affairs. He had not always been an enemy of the Cartels : on Quesh, for instance, his forces had fought alongside those of the Cartels to secure the planet's famous venoms for the Empire's adrenal production. Even then, though, the contract he'd negotiated had been firmly in the Empire's favor. But that was nothing compared to what had happened on Makeb, where, along with two other Sith Lords – one Darth Imperius, and another known only as the Emperor's Wrath – he had completely ruined the Cartels' operations in a matter of weeks.

Then there were his anti-pirate activities, which hadn't started with wiping out Varan's coalition, far from it. The systems which now made up the Damocles Sector had been a living hell for pirates of all stripes after Cain had taken residence at Perlia, his ships hunting down pirates whenever they weren't busy inflicting another defeat to the Republic. Under his reign, the Sith Empire had clamped hard on criminal activity within his sphere of influence, Cain preferring to shut the syndicates down completely instead of suborning them or taking a cut of their profits, like most other Sith Lords of the era.

Marlo's forebears had despised the Human, but also acknowledged him as a worthy enemy, with one of them going so far as noting that it was fortunate for the Cartels that Cain had always been kept busy with more pressing concerns thanks to the ongoing conflict with the Republic.

Now, however, there was no Great Galactic War to keep Darth Cain busy, and it seemed that he'd decided his exile into the far-future was the perfect opportunity to declare war on the Cartels instead.

For several hours, Marlo remained within the chamber, reading through every entry that mentioned Darth Cain. Then, for several more hours, he simply sat, pondering his options, tapping at a datapad from time to time to bring up some piece of information or another.

By the time he emerged from the secret chamber, the sun had set on the capital of Hutt Space, but Marlo didn't care. He was feeling more awake, more alive, than he had in decades. He couldn't wait for the Council meeting in a few hours, knowing what must be done. It would take work to convince the others that Cain couldn't be ignored, or brought to the negotiating table like so many would-be destroyers of the Hutts had been before, once a greater threat had presented itself.

The time had come for the Hutt Cartels to go to war.

Notes:

AN : "Wait, would the Jedi Council send Anakin to Perlia ? Wouldn't it make more sense to keep him safe on Coruscant while Obi-Wan went to investigate ?"

*remembers that Anakin participated in numerous missions where he ended up saving Obi-Wan's life between episodes I and II, and that Ahsoka was sent to a battlefield when she was, like, fourteen years old at most*

"Oh, right. Yes, yes they would. Nevermind then, I don't need to contrive a reason for the Chosen One to end up in Cain's general vicinity."

Although, in the Jedi Council's defense, if they tried to keep Anakin on Coruscant while Obi-Wan went on this mission, you can bet he would find a way to sneak aboard Senator Donali's ship. What's going on with Tatooine aside, he already lost a mentor figure to a Sith, after all.

Yes, Cain's Sith Master was *that* Erebus. For those of you unfamiliar with 40K lore, Erebus (whose name can only be properly pronounced by screaming it at the top of your lungs, filling every syllable with all the hatred and blind rage you can possibly muster) is known by many names : the Dark Apostle, Destiny's Hand, the First Chaplain of the Word Bearers Traitor Legion, the Vile One, "that frakker", and is generally considered the single most evil character in all of 40K, or at the very least a strong contender for the title, and the one generally responsible for the Imperium of Man being the terrible place it is.

And I assure you, Darth Erebus was only slightly less awful of a being than his namesake, and only because he died before having the opportunity to mess things up on the same galactic scale.

I did my best to make the various reactions seem realistic and true to the characters : tell me how you think I did.

The Muse is still as enthusiastic about this story : I have read and played almost nothing but Star Wars stuff recently. We'll see how long that lasts : in the meantime, if you are waiting for another of my stories to update, I am sorry.

As always, I look forward to your thoughts and suggestions. The response to this story's first two chapters has been overwhelming, so thank you all !

Zahariel out.

Chapter 4: Envoys

As they came out of hyperspace, Anakin did his best to conceal his trepidation under a mask of calm and serenity. He probably wasn't doing very well, but Obi-Wan and Master Plo Koon didn't mention it : they both had more urgent concerns on their minds.

They had travelled to Perlia using Senator Donali's ship, the Shield of Damocles, which was a rare model from the Outer Rim that Anakin had never seen with his own eyes before. He had spent much of the journey in the engine room, badgering the crew with questions and helping them with various jobs.

The rest of the time had been spent practicing his lightsaber forms, and studying the intel they had on Darth Cain. Obi-Wan had decided that this was the perfect opportunity to teach Anakin the history of the Old Republic, and to his own surprise, Anakin had found himself fascinated by the stories of the Great Galactic War between the Jedi and the Sith, the Republic and the Empire.

The stories had felt more like myths than historical events, and he wondered how much had been distorted over time and how much was true. Thousands of Jedi and Sith, battling for the fate of the galaxy, leading armies to war until the galaxy had run red with blood in a conflict that had only been matched in its scale and devastation by the so-called New Sith Wars one thousand years ago … it just didn't seem real.

But it was real, he reminded himself, and soon they would meet the remnants of that legendary epoch face-to-face. At least that wouldn't include Vaylin, Darth Cain's apprentice, who apparently was the daughter of the most evil and powerful Sith to have ever lived, and who had once led an armada of droid-ships which had conquered the galaxy in a few months. But while she was still on Tatooine, her Master was on Perlia, and if everything went right, then they would meet him in person.

Anakin felt a strange mix of dread and excitement at the thought. The biography Madame Nu had compiled had read like a high-budged holodrama's script, although there had been a lot of annotations marking where she was extrapolating from incomplete sources, or where there was reason to suspect the accounts she had used as primary sources were somewhat biased.

The Padawan shook his head and focused on the present. The Jedi had joined the Senator on the bridge for the hyperspace exit, ready for … anything, Anakin supposed. So far, though, there hadn't been any sudden wave of the Dark Side coming for them, no supernatural terror unleashed upon them by Darth Cain all the way from the planetary surface (which, according to several of the records, was apparently something he could do, though he'd only done it very rarely).

Looking at it through the ship's long-range scanners, Perlia looked … perfectly normal. Unlike many of the worlds Anakin had visited, its position relative to its star allowed it to have multiple biomes, with water covering about two-thirds of its surface. Numerous cities dotted its landscape, but nothing like the urban sprawls of Coruscant.

In Anakin's opinion, it certainly didn't look like the stronghold of an evil Sith Lord bent on galactic domination. He turned his gaze away from the main display and looked at the orbitals : Perlia didn't have anywhere near the number of artificial satellites as most Core worlds, especially since most of the existing ones had probably been destroyed during the pirate raid, but there were still a handful functioning. But, of course, they weren't what he and the crew of the Shield were looking for.

One of the crew gasped audibly, before hastily making some adjustments to the display. And there it was : the Invincible. It was big, it was terrible, and it was beautiful. Anakin had never heard of a ship like this : the closest he could think of was the Lucrehulk he'd destroyed six years ago during the Battle of Naboo. But while the Trade Federation ship had ostensibly been designed for cargo transport and 'providing security to business activities', nobody could look at the Invincible and think that this was anything but a weapon of war.

Swarms of fighter crafts were flying around the Invincible like insects buzzing around a great slumbering beast – though of course, the superdreadnought's immobility was only an illusion. There were also numerous civilian crafts moving around, and a steady flow of cargo being shipped in and out of the numerous hangar bays.

"There are some signs of battle damage, but I don't recognize the weapon type that would have left traces like this," mused Master Plo Koon as the higher-resolution scans arrived. "What do you think, Padawan ?"

"Well, I don't think the pirates were the ones to hurt them," said Anakin. "It's probably leftover damage from their last engagement. We don't know what exactly the alliance forces faced on Molech, but given they brought the Invincible in the first place, there must have been some void defenses of some kind."

"You're probably right, Anakin," said Obi-Wan. "And I imagine they're also replacing the hyperdrive. It malfunctioning is what brought them here – now – you know what I mean, and I doubt they want to risk it again."

"I don't think anybody makes hyperdrives that big anymore, though," frowned Anakin. "They must be building one specially for it."

"Do you have any idea how hard that would be ?" asked the Kel Dor Master.

Anakin frowned as he considered the Jedi Master's question. Hyperdrives were delicate, incredibly complex pieces of technology, and you didn't want to mess with them – as the Invincible's misadventure had illustrated.

"Well, the Sith Empire had the know-how to build one, that's obvious," he began. "But hyperdrive tech has come a long way since then, and if I was the one in charge of replacing it – and after an accident like this they will want to replace it completely, not just do some repairs – I'd want to use the occasion to do some upgrades. That'd mean obtaining new technology, having the engineers familiarize with it and come up with an upscaled schematic …" Anakin swallowed, suddenly aware that he was rambling.

"I mean, it's definitely doable, but it will take time and effort." He made some more estimates, before adding with more confidence : "I think … I think that, at least for the next few months, the Invincible is going to be stuck in Perlia. How long exactly will depend on whether the Sith can get help from other systems with the industry needed, since Perlia didn't have it and I don't think the superdreadnought's on-board foundries can handle an order of that size."

"Thank you, Padawan," said Master Plo Koon. "That is somewhat reassuring, although obviously it hasn't stopped Darth Cain from striking beyond the system already."

"Yes, but it's not like the people he sent to Tatooine did anything bad," Anakin pointed out. "Or illegal, for that matter."

He had actually looked it up : there'd been a bunch of lawyers interviewed on the Holonet about it. Turned out, since Tatooine wasn't formally part of the Republic, the Sith's invasion, execution of Jabba and liberation of the slaves wasn't even vigilantism. After all, they had been acting under the authority of Darth Cain, who was (legally) the Sovereign of Perlia, in order to free the native citizens of Perlia who'd been captured during the pirate raid.

Of course, Republican law being what it was, he didn't doubt for a second that the matter could be dragged in front of the courts for years anyway. The fact Padmé had come all the way to Coruscant to ask for help freeing her planet from the Trade Federation's occupation only to end up having to lead the counter-attack herself had taught Anakin everything he needed to know about how much you could trust the bureaucracy and the Senate to do the right thing.

"Anakin," began Obi-Wan in a warning tone of voice, but before he could launch into a full lecture, one of the bridge crew called out :

"Captain, we're being hailed."

"Put it through," ordered the officer.

"Unidentified starship, this is the Invincible," said a voice that spoke Basic with an accent Anakin had never heard before (not that this was rare in a galaxy of over a million inhabited worlds). "State your identity and reason for coming to Perlia."

"Invincible, this is the diplomatic vessel Shield of Damocles," replied the captain. "We are carrying Senator Donali of the Damocles Sector to talk with the Perlian authorities about recent events, as well as an escort of Jedi."

There was a brief pause, and then : "Repeat that, Shield of Damocles. Do you confirm that you have Jedi on board ?"

"Yes." The Jedi had discussed this with the Senator, and Donali had insisted that they don't try to hide their presence aboard his ship, lest the Sith take it as a hostile move. While it'd make investigating the situation on Perlia more difficult, Plo Koon and Obi-Wan had agreed that this was the wisest course of action.

Anakin hadn't argued at the time, but now, with the Invincible and its many, many guns looming in the distance, part of him wished he had. He took a deep breath and tried to push his nervousness into the Force. If they decided to blast their ship from the void, there was nothing any of them could do about it anyway. He could only hope that the records about Darth Cain being reasonable (and wasn't that something, the thought of a Sith Lord the Jedi of the Old Republic had thought was reasonable) were accurate.

"… Standby for a moment," replied the Imperial officer. "Do not deviate from your current heading : we have several weapons locked on your signature."

The link went dead, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind.

"Well, that certainly sounds ominous," said Obi-Wan with a strained smile, and Anakin felt a bit of relief at the thought that his Master shared his nervousness about the situation.

There was nothing they could do, so they waited while the pilot continued on their approach. Then, less than a minute later, the link opened back up, and this time, it wasn't audio-only, but a full holo transmission, which the captain immediately accepted.

The transmission showed a tall, beautiful woman with a piercing, commanding gaze, with rank insignia and several medals nobody outside of Perlia but a handful of galactic historians could've identified. There was a blaster holstered at her hip, and Anakin could tell she knew how to use it. If she was nervous at all about addressing a couple of Jedi, a Senator and a Padawan, she didn't show it.

"Shield of Damocles, this is Commodore Kasteen," she said. "I've been informed you are carrying a diplomatic party from the Republic. Is that correct ?"

"Yes, Commodore," said Donali, taking the lead before the Jedi could say anything. "I am Senator Donali, representative of the Damocles Sector in the Galactic Senate. I was on Coruscant when I learned about the … recent events."

"And your first reaction was to fly to Perlia in person ?" The woman raised an eyebrow, looking almost impressed (and Anakin had a feeling she wasn't easily impressed). "You're not like most Republic Senators I've heard about, Sir Donali, and I mean that as a compliment. And I've heard you were accompanied by Jedi ?"

"Indeed," said Master Plo Koon, stepping forward. "I am Plo Koon, Jedi Master and member of the High Council. With me are Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his Padawan Anakin Skywalker."

Kasteen's eyes swept over them as they were introduced before stopping on Anakin, who did his best to avoid fidgeting under her attention.

"I question the wisdom of the Jedi Order, if they saw fit to send a child into, for all they knew, could be a deadly trap," she said in a neutral tone.

Anakin bristled. He wasn't a child. He was fifteen years old !

"Fortunately for all of us, my lord Cain has no intentions of re-opening the ancient hostilities between our people at this time. In fact, he's quite interested in hearing what the Republic and the Jedi Order have to say. You are authorized to land at these coordinates," she continued, and the navigation computer chimed as it received the information. "An escort will be waiting for you. Do not," her already cutting tone becoming sharper than a lightsaber, "attempt anything stupid. There are thousands of Sith soldiers on Perlia who are well experienced in killing Force-users, and should you be foolish enough to attempt anything against Darth Cain himself, you will live long enough to regret it."

The transmission ended.

"That," began Anakin, before swallowing and continuing, "sounded a lot more intimidating than it should. Didn't it ?"

"I agree," sighed Obi-Wan. "Senator, you're still committed to this course of action ?"

"Of course," replied Donali, sounding a little affronted. "It is my duty to ensure the people of Perlia aren't in any danger or under duress. And I trust you won't do anything that'll test the good Commodore's threat ?"

"So long as the Sith respect the basic principles of diplomacy and the sanctity of ambassadors, we won't be the ones to make a hostile move first," promised Master Plo Koon.

"Then we'll be fine. Captain, take us down to the designated coordinates, please."

"Yes, sir."

The Shield of Damocles came down through the atmosphere with only minor turbulences (Anakin made a mental note to check the compensators on the way back) and landed at the capital's spaceport. There were signs of hastily patched battle damage everywhere, which made sense : the spaceport would have been one of the pirates' priority targets.

A group of soldiers stood waiting when the diplomatic party came down the ramp (Donali and the three Jedi : the Senator had left his aide aboard the ship, seeing no sense in risking anyone else's life if this turned out to be some kind of elaborate trap). They all wore the same black and red armor, with helmets Anakin couldn't help but think made it look like they had buckets on their heads.

So these were the soldiers of the old Sith Empire, who had nearly brought the Republic to its knees. Anakin could feel their wariness through the Force without even trying. They outnumbered the three Jedi (well, two Jedi and one Padawan) twenty to one, but they were still nervous. Not afraid, though : merely tense, the same way he'd be before a flight he knew he could do but which would challenge him.

Unlike the armed goons Obi-Wan and he had encountered before on missions, these soldiers weren't awed by the Jedi's reputation. After all, like Kasteen had said, they had fought alongside the Sith against Jedi before (and other Sith too, if the records were correct about the Empire's predilection for infighting).

One man stood out among the soldiers : a Human in his forties, wearing what Anakin assumed to be elaborate robes of office (that, or he'd left his home in his pajamas and nobody had the heart to tell him).

"Senator Donali," the man greeted the Senator, who had taken the lead of their little group, "welcome to Perlia."

"Regent Trevellyan," replied the Senator, shaking the man's hand. "It's a pleasure to be here, even under these circumstances."

"It's Prime Minister now, actually," corrected the man. "With Darth Cain's return, the Regency has ended."

The Senator and Jedi tensed at the name of the planet's new ruler, but Anakin heard the reverence in Trevellyan's voice when he spoke it. Whatever else Cain had done since his return, he'd clearly gained the admiration of the ex-Regent.

Which, given he'd saved his planet from the largest coordinated pirate raid in centuries, shouldn't have been much of a surprise, but according to the history lessons Anakin'd gotten on the way to Perlia, Sith weren't exactly kind to their subordinates. Especially those who, like Trevellyan, could be perceived to have failed to keep the Sith's possessions safe.

"And these must be the Jedi envoys !" continued Trevellyan, looking briefly at each of the Jedi in turn. "I bid you welcome to Perlia as well. Rest assured that you've nothing to fear : Darth Cain explicitly commanded that emissaries of the Order be granted every courtesy."

"We're pleased to hear it," replied Master Plo Koon with a polite bow, which Obi-Wan imitated, Anakin hastily following.

"Before we go meet the Sovereign, there is someone else we must pick up," said Trevellyan. "You aren't the only off-world visitors we have today : another visitor arrived in-system just as you began your descent."

"That is quite the coincidence," Obi-Wan pointed out. Trevellyan shrugged.

"I suppose so, but in truth, we were expecting a lot more curious visitors. I guess the journalists are still too scared to swarm the planet looking for answers. I expect that'll change once you make your report to Coruscant and people see the Sith aren't killing people in the street, or whatever other ludicrous rumors are circulating in the Core right now."

Rumors. Yes. Definitely not something they had worried about on the way here.

Trevellyan escorted them to another of the spaceport's landing pad, just in time for the ship to land. It was, Anakin recognized, a solar sailer – specifically, a Punworcca 116-class interstellar sloop, with extensive (and expensive) modifications. It was beautiful, and very rare, being part of a very limited production run due to the sheer cost of buying and operating it. Clearly whoever it belonged to must be very rich to be able to afford one, while also having good taste, which from Anakin experience was far from being the same thing.

A tall man with white hair and beard, dressed in simple but elegant clothing and holding himself with the kind of poise Anakin had only seen a handful of Senators ever manage, came down the boarding ramp. He was alone, but somehow that didn't seem strange. The Jedi Padawan would've thought him another diplomat, some kind of ambassador from a nearby world come to Perlia for the same reason as them, if not for how strong he felt in the Force – and the reaction his companions had to seeing him.

The moment he came into view, both Obi-Wan and Master Plo Koon briefly froze. They knew the man, Anakin realized, and after looking at him again he realized he'd seen his face before : there was a bust of him in the Archives at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. What did that mean ? Anakin had always assumed the busts were there to honor old Jedi, but the man before him was very much alive, and while the two older Jedi with him were clearly surprised by his presence on Perlia, he didn't think they were surprised to see him alive.

He really should have asked what the busts meant, but he had already been on shifting sands with Madame Nu at the time. Even though he hadn't meant anything bad when he'd remarked out loud that he had never seen a Human as old as she was – Tatooine not being the kind of planet people lived to reach old age.

Not that her advanced years kept the Chief Archivist from being really scary when pissed off, of course.

"Welcome to Perlia, Count Dooku," the Prime Minister greeted him warmly. "We are honored by your presence."

"I assure you, the honor is mine," replied the nobleman, shaking Trevellyan's hand, before looking at the Jedi. "And I see I am not the only diplomat to have made the journey. Master Plo Koon, Knight Kenobi, and Senator … Donali, was it ? What an unexpected surprise."

"Count Dooku," said Obi-Wan with a stiff bow, which Anakin hurriedly copied. "What a coincidence to see you here."

"You know each other ?" asked Donali.

"No, but we know of each other," replied Dooku. "After all, I was once the Master of Qui-Gon Jin, who was Knight Kenobi's own Master."

Oh. That meant … that meant that when Obi-Wan had lost his Master, and Anakin had lost the Jedi who'd helped him escape slavery, Dooku had lost his Padawan. Anakin still struggled to understand just what the Master-Padawan bond was supposed to mean within the Order, but he knew losing someone hurt, and he could feel Dooku's grief in the brief flare of pain mentioning Master Qui-Gon caused in his aura.

"Really ?" asked the Senator, looking back and forth between the two men. "And you never met before today ?"

"No," replied Obi-Wan. "We didn't."

There was a moment of awkward silence, then Dooku turned his gaze to Anakin, who did his best not to squirm.

"And this is?"

"Oh, my apologies, Count," said Obi-Wan (though his voice remained tense despite his words). "Where are my manners ? This is Anakin Skywalker, my Padawan."

"I see," said Dooku, still looking at Anakin. "So you are the boy Qui-Gon found and brought back to Coruscant all those years ago."

Anakin was used to feeling judged and found wanting from all the time he had spent in the Temple, but Dooku's inspection was in a class all its own. He hadn't even said anything mean (aside from calling him 'boy', but everyone was probably a child to him, except maybe Master Yoda), and Anakin already wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

"Hmm," he muttered, before straightening himself up. "Yes, I am, sir. You're a Jedi, then ?"

"Not anymore, I'm afraid," replied the Count with a small smile. "I was once a member of the Jedi Order, before leaving it due to … disagreements with the way the Order's approach to modern politics."

Wait, you could do that ? Anakin had always assumed that once you joined the Jedi Order, it was for life.

"Why are you on Perlia, Count ?" asked Master Plo Koon. "The situation here is already volatile enough."

Everyone focused on Dooku, including the Prime Minister and the Senator.

"You know of my efforts to bring stability and prosperity to the Outer Rim, I am sure," answered Dooku. "In light of what transpired on Tatooine, I've come to ascertain where Darth Cain stands on these issues."

"Count, surely you cannot be thinking of allying with the Sith ! Not after …" Obi-Wan trailed off.

"Darth Cain may be a Sith, but you and I both know he had nothing to do with Qui-Gon's death, Kenobi. If by working with him, I can prevent some of the atrocities taking place beyond the Republic's reach, then my duty as a ruler demands that I consider it, at least."

There was a moment of tense silence following the nobleman's proclamation, eventually broken by Trevellyan, who ignored the awkwardness with all the skill expected from a veteran politician :

"Now that we have gotten everyone, please follow me. A transport is ready to bring you all to the Sovereign."

---

This, reflected Obi-Wan as their eclectic group boarded a speeder to Darth Cain's location, was not how he'd envisioned this mission going. It was also incredibly awkward, and not just because their transport was preceded and followed by another one full of Imperial soldiers who'd spent most of their careers battling Jedi and Republican troops.

Meeting his grandmaster for the first time had been an unexpected surprise. Dooku had left the Order years before due to his disagreements with the Council; and for a long time, Obi-Wan had been worried his Master would follow in his footsteps and leave him behind. Even now, he wasn't certain what would've happened if Qui-Gon hadn't died on Naboo. The Council had granted his Master's dying request of allowing Obi-Wan to train Anakin, but they might not have if Qui-Gon had lived – and then, what would Dooku's student have done, convinced as he was that Anakin was the Chosen One destined to bring balance to the Force ?

He sighed. It was pointless to think about what-ifs. Qui-Gon was dead, and while training Anakin had been among the greatest challenges of his life, he was still glad he'd done it, and proud of the progress his Padawan had made in the last six years. If he could only learn to reign in his temper and find peace in the Force, Obi-Wan had no doubt Anakin could become one of the greatest Jedi to have ever lived – something which was even more important now, with the Sith resurgent.

Soon, Obi-Wan noticed they were leaving the capital behind, and asked Trevellyan where exactly they were going.

"We're going to the ancient Sith Temple," explained the Prime Minister. "After the transfer of power was done, Darth Cain relocated his seat of governance to his old stronghold. He said it was to avoid disturbing the day-to-day workings of governance, even if it meant we had to do some repairs to make the place liveable again."

Right. Obi-Wan was sure that was the only reason Cain had decided to do such a thing.

Moments later, the Sith Temple became visible : it was a large pyramid, rising far above the forest surrounding it. Even from afar, he could see gardening droids, cutting the vegetation which had grown over the structure over the ages, while teams of construction workers were doing repairs.

As they approached the pyramid, their speeder landed, and Trevellyan explained they'd need to go the rest of the way on foot. The reason why was immediately obvious : a recently cleared space at the foot of the Temple was occupied by a large and growing camp, full of people belonging to a whole array of species.

People wearing the white uniforms which was associated with humanitarian work across the galaxy were distributing supplies, taking names, offering medical assistance, and otherwise doing the hundred jobs needed to care for a sudden influx of civilians. It was nothing Obi-Wan hadn't seen before on worlds struck by disasters, though the people of this … shanty town ? No, that wasn't right : the buildings were clearly well-made, if of a style that clashed with what he'd seen of Perlia's architecture so far.

But there was something about the residents which echoed in the Force, as if they couldn't quite believe what was happening – like a part of them expected it all to be a dream. It was the sight of a Weequay family who all had surgical scars on their arms which made the coin drop, and Obi-Wan realized that all these people had been slaves before. This camp was where the people who'd been freed on Tatooine and needed a new start in life had come.

He glanced at Anakin, who was staring at their surroundings with wide eyes. The joy his Padawan felt at the sight of so many liberated slaves was obvious, and once again, Obi-Wan felt a pang of guilt and shame at the thought that it had fallen to a Sith to help these people.

"This all looks very military," he said aloud, gesturing to the uniform metallic grey of the buildings around them. "There isn't much color around here."

"An unfortunate necessity," explained Trevellyan. "Perlia's building industry is already at capacity dealing with the damage of the pirate raid : to house these people, the Invincible's foundries produced prefabricated habitats, and, well, it's a military ship, so the designs were all for Imperial Army bases. It's not the most comfortable or elegant, admittedly, but it keeps the elements at bay."

As they walked toward the temple, a presence began to press against the Jedi's minds. It felt like approaching the lair of a great beast, knowing full well it was awake and praying it wasn't also hungry.

Obi-Wan did all he could to stay calm as well. He had to : not just because the mission depended on it, but because Anakin was right there, and he had to be an example for his Padawan. He drew on the Light side of the Force, and felt its serenity fill him, pushing back the tide of encroaching darkness.

A blond woman in plain robes was waiting for them at the top of the stairs leading to the main entrance, resting with her back against the wall to the side of the opening, a walking cane next to her. She was quite beautiful, but what really drew Obi-Wan's attention was the way the tide of darkness pouring out of the temple seemed to part around her. It wasn't like what it was doing around Obi-Wan and Master Plo Koon, where it was burned back by their inner Light, or Anakin, whose raw power was pushing it back with a sense of wariness.

Instead, it split around her, like flowing water around a stone – no, that wasn't quite right. It wrapped itself around her, with what felt like … affection ? He had no idea how that was possible, but he made a note of it to tell Master Plo Koon later, just in case he hadn't noticed, or felt it differently due to the differences in their Force senses.

"Hello, everyone," she greeted them with a smile. "I already know all of your names, so let me introduce myself : I am Amberley Vail, Jedi Knight."

"We were unaware that the Order had sent another Jedi to Perlia," said Master Plo Koon, who didn't quite sound suspicious, but was clearly expecting further explanation. The woman's Force presence was undeniable, and she didn't feel like a Sith, but that didn't mean much.

"Oh, they didn't," answered Vail with a wave of her hand. "I came to the system aboard the Invincible. I suppose you could say I am a Jedi Knight of the Old Republic."

The truth of her words echoed in the Force as she pushed herself from the wall, leaning on her cane instead. The motion revealed a lightsaber hanging from her belt, of a design no one in the Order had used in thousands of years.

"Aboard the Invincible ?" repeated Dooku. "Were you a prisoner, Miss Vail ?"

That had been Obi-Wan's first thought as well, but the soldiers who had escorted them from the spaceport didn't seem nervous around her as they were around the other Jedi. They weren't completely at ease in her presence either, but it was clear from their body language that they didn't see them as a threat – and not just because of her cane, and the injuries its presence implied.

"No, not a prisoner," she immediately denied. "I was part of the raid on Molech – you know about that ? Good," she added when the Jedi nodded – and, interestingly, so did Dooku. "Anyway, I was there, and I got injured, quite badly. Cain saved my life when he carried me aboard his ship while the building we were all fighting in collapsed."

"I am afraid I have never heard of you," said Master Plo Koon.

"Really ?" She quirked an eyebrow. "You did get access to the Order's records about Cain, right ?"

"Of course," assured Obi-Wan. "The Order wouldn't send us on this mission without all the information available."

"And you didn't find my name in there ?" She was frowning now, but Obi-Wan was getting a sense through the Force that she was … pouting, somehow. "I'm surprised."

"Many records of the time period have been lost over the ages, I am afraid," explained Plo Koon. "Our briefing was very clear on that matter. The fact that we know as much as we do is a testament to the skills of our Chief Archivist."

According to Madame Nu's notes, the bulk of these losses had occurred during the New Sith Wars, the apocalyptic conflict which had brought the Republic to its knees and the Order to the edge of extinction before the Army of Light had defeated the Brotherhood of Darkness in what had, at the time, been thought to be the final battle against the Sith. During that century of horrors, Coruscant had been targeted many times by Sith plots and raids, and while none of them had matched the legendary Sacking that had ended the First Great Galactic War, the Temple had been breached several times, resulting in much loss of life and knowledge.

"Yes, that would make sense," sighed Vail. "I suppose I'll have to return to Coruscant at some point to clear things up. For now, you better all come in. Cain is checking on the vault underneath the old palace, making sure everything is still where he left it : that's why he isn't here to welcome you in person. He's finishing things up down there, and will join us in the meeting room."

"The vault ?" asked Obi-Wan. "Our information on Perlia didn't mention anything about a vault being on the planet."

"Lord Cain's personal collection of artefacts from the Great Galactic Wars, stored away underneath his palace because they were too dangerous to carry on the Invincible," explained Trevellyan, sounding inordinately proud of the fact. "Until the return of the Sith, we believed it to be little more than a legend, but it was among the first things Darth Cain asked about after the situation in the system had been handled."

"Shouldn't these objects have been given into the custody of the Jedi Order when Perlia rejoined the Republic ?" asked Plo Koon.

"Probably," said the Prime Minister with a straight face. "But for some strange reason, the existence of the vault and its contents weren't mentioned anywhere in the treaty signed by my distant predecessors when the planet returned to the Republic, which is why we thought it mere legend."

"How strange," deadpanned Obi-Wan.

"Oh, strange has nothing to do with it," cut in Vail. "The Republic knew about the vault, and so did the Order. Force, they even knew most of its contents. My guess is that it just wasn't worth the hassle to fight another planetary war when diplomacy was an option, especially since trying to force their way into the vault without Cain's authorization codes would have cost them a lot of people."

"How did the Order know what was in the vault ?" asked Anakin, confusion plainly visible on his face. Vail looked at him with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

"How do you think, Padawan ? I told them, of course."

"Is that something you should admit aloud ?" asked Obi-Wan, gesturing at the armed troopers still escorting them.

"Oh, they know," replied Vail with a wave of her hand. "I did it with Cain's permission. He wanted everyone to know what was in his collection."

For several seconds, Obi-Wan's wits failed him completely, before he managed to croak out :

"Why ?!"

"Boasting, mostly. Every Sith Lord in the Empire had their own pile of Dark Side relics, it was tradition. Though admittedly, Cain's was bigger than most," she added with a wink. "We were all very lucky he had no interest in using it against the Republic. Now come on, let's get inside."

Vail led them through the complex, passing teams of workers cleaning the ancient building and preparing it for habitation. Electric lights provided more than enough illumination, but the spiritual darkness of the place still pressed down on Obi-Wan, stronger and stronger as they went deeper into the complex.

"This place looks in better state than I would have expected given its age," noted Dooku.

"We did our best to maintain it," said Trevellyan. "It was, and is an important part of Perlia's history. But our small contingent of historians and workers were only tasked with preventing it from degrading, not keeping it ready for habitation." His smile wavered slightly. "I'm afraid we stopped believing Darth Cain would return at some point in the last three thousand years, and didn't dedicate as much effort and funds to it as we should have."

"Don't worry, Prime Minister," said Vail. "Cain didn't expect you to keep the place in pristine condition all this time. I think he was surprised it was still standing at all, to be honest."

She brought them into a large, windowless square chamber containing an oval-shaped table with a bunch of chairs around it, whose largest wall was covered in a large fresco depicting a stylized figure with a red lightsaber leading black-clad soldiers into battle against an unseen foe under a tempestuous sky.

A plaque to the side of the artwork explained that this was the work of an obscure Perlian master, dating back to Darth Cain's rule – his first rule, now, Obi-Wan thought – and represented the Sith Lord leading his forces to liberate the planet from its previous, unnamed (and, crucially, not depicted anywhere on the fresco) rulers.

"Take a seat," said Amberley, gesturing to the chairs laid around a conference table at the center of the room before following her own advice, sitting down with a sigh of relief.

"Are you hurt, miss Vail ?" asked Anakin, looking at her with a concerned expression.

"It's nothing I won't recover from in time, Padawan," she replied. "Like I said, I barely made it out of Molech alive, but say what you will for the Imperials : they know how to patch someone up when they really need to. At least I can walk around and not be stuck inside the medbay now."

"And why exactly would Darth Cain need to 'patch you up' ?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Because," said a new voice, "there is no honor in abandoning those who have fought alongside me."

Everyone in the room turned as the speaker strode into the room like he owned it – which, of course, he did.

Somehow, Darth Cain was even more intimidating in person than in holo. He was tall for a Human, towering above everyone else in the room. His face had the kind of look kings, tyrants and warlords across the galaxy paid fortunes to be given in paintings and sculptures. His hair was black and cut short, and his eyes were the same yellow Maul's had been (something which Obi-Wan had later learned was a sign of the Dark Side's influence). He wore an ornate suit of armor (but no helmet, or any kind of headgear) and a black cape hung from his shoulders. A lightsaber was attached to his belt, and he walked with the self-assured air of a warrior confident there was nothing in the galaxy he could not take on.

Obi-Wan only had one second to take in the Sith Lord's appearance before his Force presence, which had so far been hidden by the building's latent Dark Side energies, registered to his senses.

In that moment, the Knight understood that for all his power, all his lethality, Maul had been a child in the ways of the Sith. Qui-Gon's killer had been all bloodthirst and cold rage, turned into a razor-sharp blade of hate through training methods Obi-Wan preferred not to speculate on. Cain, however, was like an icy storm, sapping all strength and warmth; like the weight of a hand pressed against the back of his neck, not hard enough to be painful, but to serve as a constant reminder of what he could do to them all if he so chose.

Obi-Wan blinked, and forced himself to look away. Only then did he notice the droid following behind Cain. It carried no visible weapons, but there was no doubt whatsoever in his mind that it had been designed for combat, and was far, far more lethal than any Trade Federation's model.

"I've already been told who you are all. As for me, I am the Sovereign of Perlia," declared Darth Cain, his voice booming in the chamber. "By the law of the land, the will of the people, and the strength of my armies."

It should have sounded like a boast, but from him, it was instead like the proclamation of an undeniable, unchallengeable truth.

"I bid you all welcome to Perlia," the Sith Lord went on. "Senator Donali, I am pleased to meet a member of the Galactic Senate willing to come here despite the circumstances."

"To do anything else would have been a gross dereliction of my sworn duty," replied the Senator.

"Perhaps, but I am sure that wouldn't have stopped many of your colleagues from making excuses."

"In my experience, politicians are rarely willing to make the kind of sacrifice they demand of their people." Darth Cain sat on the seat at the head of the table, before continuing : "Now, let us talk. Why did you come to my world ?"

"We are here to learn what your intentions are, Lord Cain," said Plo Koon. "Our records show that you were among the few Sith of the old Empire with whom diplomacy was possible. Given the circumstances of your return, it is the hope of the Jedi Council that this hasn't changed."

"I have no intention of starting a Fourth Great Galactic War," replied Darth Cain. "My people fought three of them, and lost. Re-igniting old hatreds now won't serve anyone's interests."

"Do you intend to let Perlia remain a member of the Republic ?" asked Donali.

"That depends on how the Republic decides to react to my return," and wasn't that a loaded statement. "My analysts are still catching up with the changes in Republican law, but they have already brought several worrying points to my attention – first among them the fact that, by current regulations, the existence of the Invincible is illegal."

"That is correct," said Master Plo Koon. "Under the Ruusan Reformations, a military ship of that size should be dismantled."

"Which is obviously not going to happen," Cain immediately replied with complete self-assurance. "The Invincible is the result of decades of work by my people, and the last remnant of Imperial might in the galaxy. Dismantling it is unthinkable; if the Republic insists on it, then Perlia will enact its right to secede from the Damocles Sector."

Obi-Wan didn't miss Dooku's smile at the mention of that possibility, and his heart sank. The Order was well aware of Yoda's former Padawan's actions in the Outer Rim, but there was a difference between rallying political opposition to Republican mismanagement and joining hands with the Sith. Had his grandmaster really grown so disgruntled with the Republic that he'd consider allying the Separatist Movement with Darth Cain ?

"Technically," Anakin suddenly spoke up, before closing his mouth as everyone turned to look at him. Obi-Wan sent him an encouraging nod (he would rather his Padawan had stayed silent, but now that he had already started talking, it was better to present a united front), and he managed to continue : "technically, since the Invincible's hyperdrive doesn't work, it doesn't violate the regulations. At the moment, it's more of a very large, very well-armed system defense station than a ship."

"You are correct, young Padawan," said Cain with a smile you could have cut beskar with. "My analysts pointed out the same thing. But as you no doubt already guessed, we are already working on replacing the hyperdrive. We cannot, after all, leave our most powerful weapon stranded in this system if we are to continue prosecuting our crusade against slavery."

"That is our second point of discussion," said Obi-Wan. "The details of Perlia's Republic membership will be for you and the Senator to discuss, but we are concerned about what happened on Tatooine."

"Does the Jedi Order object to the liberation of slaves now, Knight Kenobi ?" asked Cain, one eyebrow mockingly raised. "If so, then things have changed a lot since my time."

"Of course not," replied Obi-Wan. He had to tread carefully here : galactic politics aside, Anakin would never forgive him if he implied the Order was fine with slavery in the Outer Rim (which it absolutely wasn't, and had done everything it could to curb while restricted by its allegiance to the Republic and its laws). "We do have an issue with the summary execution of slavers, though. Even someone like Jabba deserved a trial, if only to give his victims closure and drag information on the rest of the Cartels into the light."

"Vaylin was the one to plan the attack on the Hutt's palace," said Cain. "My apprentice has always been fond of dramatic gestures, but in this instance, I approve of her choice. Jabba's death sent a message to the rest of the slavers in the Outer Rim that no matter how rich and powerful they are, no matter how safe they think themselves, they cannot escape punishment for their crimes. It has made them afraid, and fear is a powerful weapon."

"So you truly intend to wage war against the entire Hutt Cartels then ?" asked Dooku.

"Yes. Did Vaylin's proclamation not make this clear ?" replied Darth Cain, sounding genuinely confused by the question. "The war has already begun. There's no doubt in my mind that the Cartels are preparing to fight us as we speak, if only to be the ones to claim Jabba's former territory for themselves."

"Why ?" asked Anakin, and Obi-Wan really wished he had the good sense to tell his Padawan to be quiet and not draw attention to himself during the meeting. He usually always did it before they met important people, and to his credit Anakin obeyed most of the time, but he'd been too distracted by everything else going on this time. "You are a Sith. Every record we have shows that the Empire practiced slavery on a far larger scale than the Hutts. I am happy to see the slaves free, but why are you doing all of this ?"

There was a pause, then Darth Cain began to speak :

"Vaylin hates slavery because of her past, which is not mine to share. She spent most of her life in chains, and now that she has broken free, she sees all other chains as a reminder of what she has left behind. Sending her to Tatooine was a test to see how much she'd grown, and she passed it with flying colors by showing her ability to work with the assets at her disposal to achieve a greater result than anything she could have managed by herself."

Obi-Wan searched the Force for any sign of deceit, trying to ignore the pressure of the Temple and its master, and found none.

"As for myself," the Sith Lord continued, "I have long believed that slavery is the mark of a weak civilization. A nation which resorts to slavery is either too primitive to function without it, or too decadent to choose to dispense with it. In the Empire, it was the latter : slavery served no real purpose other than to allow the weakest, most degenerate Sith to indulge in petty cruelty, as well as to provide a source of cheap labour which could be exploited for short-term gains, without any thought to how it negatively impacted the Empire's future. It encouraged the worst traits of my people, which led to our defeat more times than I care to count."

"That doesn't sound very Sith-like," ventured Obi-Wan. Immediately, he felt a spike of fury from the troopers in the room, but they settled down with a gesture from their master, who seemed neither surprised nor insulted by the Jedi's comment. "From what the Jedi archives tell us of the Dark Side, it encourages domination over all others, regardless of the cost."

"An acquaintance of mine once said that a true Sith is the ultimate individual : there are as many Sith philosophies as there are Sith," said Cain, his gaze growing distant as he looked at something only he could see. "Other Sith Lords believed that the path to power is to force everyone else down so that you can stand above them. But all of them forgot one very important thing : it is a big galaxy, and there is always a greater power."

"A Sith might be able to subjugate a city, a continent, a world, even a Sector, but there will inevitably be limits to their reach. And if you spend all your time and energy keeping others down, then that is less time you can spend on bettering yourself. The Sith of the Empire were so focused on ensuring their supremacy within the Empire by eliminating potential rivals that when the time came to face the Republic, the whole thing eventually crumbled down. That is why I believe that the path to true power lies in allowing others around you to rise up, so that you can test yourself against them. And that is the other reason why I will lead my people to war against the Cartels."

"Sith need enemies," he continued, the Dark Side swelling with every word, cawing its appreciation. Obi-Wan fought to keep his expression calm, while around him, Dooku and Plo Koon appeared unaffected, Vail was looking at Cain with a small smile, and Anakin was … listening with an enraptured look on his face, oh dear. He'd need to have a serious talk with his Padawan later.

"Only by challenging oneself can one's understanding of the Force grow, and there is no better challenge than conflict with a worthy foe; Darth Malgus was right about that, at least, even if he was wrong about many other things. For all their repulsiveness, sloth and cowardice, the Hutts have endured in this galaxy for over twenty thousand years, even though they are despised by almost every other sentient race that has ever met them. They will make a good enemy for my people to hone themselves against."

And now the truth came out. If (and it was if, not when, Obi-Wan reminded himself) Darth Cain won the war his apprentice had begun on Tatooine, it would leave him in a far better position than his current one. The Sith's resources would grow with every liberated world, every criminal ship seized and repurposed. And meanwhile, the Republic couldn't intervene without public support, and who in the Core Worlds would approve of helping the Hutts keep people as slaves, when all they needed to do was absolutely nothing ?

To most people, the Sith were nothing but ancient history, at most a legend used to frighten disobedient children into behaving. So long as Cain spun this carefully, he could even tear the Republic between those who would want to help him bring freedom and order to the Outer Rim and those who were in favor of sitting back and doing nothing to either help or hinder him.

He didn't know if this was really all a long-term scheme, or if Cain was being sincere when explaining his motivations. Thankfully, that wasn't his job : he was just here to make contact, ensure no harm came to Senator Donali, and survive long enough to report back to the Council if things went out of hand.

"If you seek an enemy to test yourself against, then what about the Jedi and the Republic ?" asked Plo Koon. "Not that I want you to declare war on us, of course; I am merely curious."

Nice of you to add that qualifier, Master Plo Koon, thought Obi-Wan sarcastically.

"One war at a time is enough," chuckled Cain. "Only a fool tries to fight a war on two fronts. And besides, it wouldn't be sporting, now would it ? The Republic has crippled its military power to a degree I still struggle to make sense of, whereas the Cartels have entire armies' worth of mercenaries, enforcers and bounty hunters. Not a proper military, yes, but as I said : they've survived that long. I'm sure by the time we're done with the Hutts, the Republic will have finished shaking off the dust of a thousand years of peace."

Oh, so the reason why Cain hadn't immediately restarted the Great Galactic War upon his return was that he didn't think it would be a fair fight for the Republic, Obi-Wan thought faintly. How nice of him. He would think Cain was boasting, if not for the raw power and air of complete self-assurance he was exuding.

"There is another thing," Darth Cain added. "You all know of the pirate raid which was taking place in this system and which we crushed upon our return. What you didn't know was that the leader of these scum was a Force-user," revealed Darth Cain. "He called himself Varan, and though no true Jedi or Sith and a mediocre duellist at best, he was gifted at bending the minds of others to his will. His bridge crew are currently in the care of our medics : their minds were hollowed out by repeated exposure, and it has been all we can do to keep them alive."

Obi-Wan blanched at the clinical description. This … this was monstrous, if true, and he still didn't sense any deceit from the Sith Lord. It was also uncomfortably reminiscent of the mind tricks many Jedi used to get their way on missions, and a pointed reminder of why that ability was considered a crutch that was only to be used in the most vital of circumstances, lest it lead its abuser down to the Dark Side.

"Why are you telling us this ?" asked Plo Koon.

"Because historically, the Jedi healers have been more gifted than ours. While I don't doubt these people committed many crimes before falling under Varan's influence, nobody deserves to have their minds violated like this. I would ask for the Order to take custody of them, and help them recover from their ordeal as best you can."

"We'll need to discuss the matter with the Council," said Plo Koon, "but I can't think of any reason why they would refuse."

"What happened to Varan ?" asked Obi-Wan. "Is he in custody ?"

"I killed him," Cain replied bluntly. "With his abilities, keeping him imprisoned would have been more trouble than he was worth. It was a swifter death than the wretch deserved for daring to raid my world, but given the situation, I decided it was for the best."

"And just as a quick reminder," Trevellyan added before anyone else could speak, "as the lawful ruler of Perlia, Lord Cain was perfectly in his right to sentence this pirate to death and execute him. While the ceremonies of transfer of power took place later, legally speaking, our Sovereign's title and authority were never removed from him, and Varan's crimes were most certainly deserving of the death penalty under Perlian law."

Cain blinked, the faintest air of surprise becoming visible on his face. Obi-Wan had a feeling the Sith Lord hadn't even considered that before killing Varan, which wasn't exactly reassuring.

"That's enough talk for now," said Cain. "I'm sure there are still things you'd want to discuss, but I believe it is best for you to see Perlia for yourselves before we speak again. You will all, of course, be granted the best hospitality Perlia has to offer, though I'm sure you'll understand if the quarters assigned to you are located in the capital rather than in this building.

Oh, thank the Force. Obi-Wan hadn't even considered the prospect of trying to sleep in the Sith Temple.

"Senator, the Prime Minister will answer any legal questions you might have. Honored Jedi, I am sure you have much to discuss with Knight Vail. Count Dooku, please stay behind. There are matters we should discuss in private."

Obi-Wan exchanged a look with Plo Koon, who nodded in agreement. Leaving Dooku to speak with the Sith Lord alone wasn't ideal, but they didn't have any justification to stop it. The meeting had already gone as well as they could expect – better, really. Best not to jeopardize the situation and withdraw for now; they needed to debrief Knight Vail and contact the Temple on Coruscant to check her story in any case.

They all stood and bowed. The first round of negotiations, such as they had been, was over.

---

The Republic envoys filed out of the room, Kenobi sending one last worried glance at Dooku before the doors closed, leaving the former Jedi Master alone with Darth Cain and his droid.

The power of the Dark Side radiated from Cain in chilling waves that lapped at Dooku's mind. Never before had Dooku met anything like it : even his Master, Darth Sidious, did not flaunt his power like this, used as he was to concealing it from the Jedi. The Count could only imagine how it must feel not to have to hide, to feel so secure in one's might.

Based on the records Dooku had accessed, Darth Cain's age shouldn't be that different from his own, yet the ancient Sith Lord still looked like a man in the prime of his life, his golden eyes the only mark of the Dark Side visible to the naked eye. It was only when sensing through the Force that the truth became clear : an endlessly raging storm of cold power, waxing and waning in accord with Darth Cain's thoughts and emotions, which it also completely obscured from detection.

Dooku reminded himself that he couldn't afford to show weakness. Sidious' warnings echoed in his skull : here was a man who had dealt with the mightiest Sith to have ever lived. He couldn't afford any slip-up, any mistake. Even if, by some miracle, he managed to escape Darth Cain, he doubted he would make it out of the temple, let alone off-world.

"Now, then," said Cain. "Let us talk, Count."

"Is your droid secure ?" asked Dooku bluntly. "The matters I wish to discuss are confidential in the extreme."

"I trust JURG-N with my life," replied Cain. "His presence here also means we don't need to worry about being overheard."

"How so ?"

"I'm equipped with an array of spying countermeasures, Count," explained the droid, in a smooth voice that was entirely at odds with its martial appearance. "From a jamming field to blank noise projection, along with more direct ways of dealing with eavesdroppers."

It raised its left hand, and a short blade protruded out of its wrist before sliding back in. Dooku blinked, slightly taken aback. He hadn't expected the droid to speak : based solely on its appearance, he had assumed it to be some kind of bodyguard model, or (given he struggled to think of a threat the droid could have protected Cain from that the Sith Lord couldn't handle himself) a personal assassin of some sort.

"That is quite the list of features," he said aloud.

"The JURG droid line was designed to serve as elite hunter-killers for the Imperial Army," said Cain. "From Republic commandos to Sith assassins, JURG-N has dealt with all manner of foes since entering my service, and he has never disappointed me. Now, Count," said Cain with a smile that sent a shiver down Dooku's spine, "what exactly did you want to discuss that we couldn't talk about in the presence of the Jedi, my fellow Dark Side user ?"

Ah.

Kriff.

For a moment, Dooku considered pretending he had no idea what Darth Cain was talking about, but he dismissed the idea quickly. It wasn't going to work, and such blatant lying was beneath him.

"May I know how you figured it out ?" He asked instead. "None of your other visitors seemed to realize the truth."

"Did you really think I would not ?" Cain scoffed. "You may be able to deceive a couple of Jedi and a confused Padawan, but I am a Sith Lord."

"I have studied the ways of the Dark Side since leaving the Order, yes," Dooku admitted. "That is part of the reason why I came to Perlia : another Jedi might have been afraid, but I do not believe merely being Sith makes you a monster unable of seeing reason."

"I see," said Cain. "You heard what I said about Varan being a Force-sensitive himself. But there is one thing I didn't tell the Jedi, Count. Before he died, Varan tried to beg for his life by revealing that he hadn't acted alone : he was ordered to gather his pirate coalition and attack Perlia by his master, Darth Sidious."

So Sidious' suspicions had been correct. That didn't bode well for Dooku, and he quickly checked his mental shields, lest Darth Cain sense the truth and destroy him.

"So tell me, Count Dooku of Serenno," asked Cain in a soft tone of voice. "Did you have anything to do with the attack on Perlia ?"

"I," Dooku opened his mouth to defend himself, but no further words would come out. The lights had gone out, and a wave of darkness was pouring out from Cain, swallowing the room, swallowing him.

His power was gone, his strength, his conviction, his certainty that he was doing the right thing, no matter how many times he woke up trembling from nightmares, it was all gone, replaced by an all-encompassing terror. He wasn't a Sith Lord in disguise, he wasn't a former Jedi Master, he wasn't even a planetary ruler in his own right – he was just an old man, tired and frail.

"No," he croaked out through the terror choking him. "I had nothing to do with it, I swear. I only learned about the attack after you had defeated it, and knew nothing of Varan until then."

Which was the truth, he hadn't known anything, he wasn't lying, he wasn't he wasn't –

The shroud of terror withdrew, and sanity slowly returned, leaving Dooku on his knees, trembling and gasping for breath, his heart beating painfully fast. Yet even as the darkness withdrew, he could feel it mocking him. He knows, he thought with startling clarity. He knows I am involved with Darth Sidious somehow, even if I'm not lying about the raid.

Cain was toying with him. Or … no. Not toying, or at least, not only that. He was letting Dooku know that, for all his power, for all that he had sacrificed in his studies of the Dark Side, all the intrigue and plotting he'd done since leaving the Order and embracing the ways of the Sith, Dooku was still nothing compared to him.

Slowly, feeling every single one of his years, Dooku lifted himself back into his chair, breathing deeply.

"If you weren't involved in the attack, then why did you come ?" asked Cain, as if nothing had just happened.

"I left the Jedi Order because I didn't agree with their passive approach to the problems faced by the galaxy." This was familiar ground, and as Dooku spoke, his voice became more assured. "The Republic is failing. The Senate now serves only itself, not the people it represents. I spent my entire life fighting to make the galaxy a better place as a Jedi, and I achieved precious little."

Merely talking about it brought it all back – years, decades spent doing the Senate's bidding, slowly realizing that he wasn't making a difference, only perpetuating a rotting, self-serving system. The old, familiar bitterness, and the righteous anger that accompanied it, pushed back the terror somewhat.

"Eventually, I came to the conclusion that the Republic couldn't be fixed from the inside. The Jedi Order blindly follows the Senate's lead, unwilling to break from the Republic's control, bound by traditions and rules that have outlived their purpose. It must evolve, but it won't."

Dooku blamed Yoda for this, though he was self-aware enough to know he wasn't entirely unbiased when his old Master was concerned. The Grand Master of the Jedi Order had lived for nearly a thousand years : he was an elder even by the standards of his mysterious species. He had led the Jedi Order for centuries, and during that time, had become blind to the slowly growing corruption that had overtaken the Republic. Yoda had become complacent, set in his ways, so used to being the wisest being in any room that he refused to even consider anyone else's point of view.

And the rest of the Order, made up of Jedi who had known Yoda as a wise teacher all their life, wouldn't challenge him either. Dooku himself had only been capable of doing so thanks to his closer familiarity with his Master which had let him see through the awe-inspiring image he projected for the rest of the Order. Qui-Gon … Qui-Gon might have seen through it, too, but they had never talked about it before he died. It was one of Dooku's many regrets where his old Padawan was concerned.

"That is why I have championed the Separatist Movement these past few years," the Count of Serenno continued, pushing down the familiar stab of grief. "I believe that the Outer Rim will be better off without being subject to the corrupt authority of Coruscant. And I am not alone in those beliefs : hundreds of worlds which have suffered under the neglect of Coruscanti rule and the depredations of criminal syndicates share my views. If the Republic cannot change, then we will leave it, and build for ourselves a new stellar nation in the Outer Rim."

"And you came here looking for guidance in how to achieve this ?" asked Cain, his expression unreadable. "Or did you hope I'd lend the might of my armies to your cause ?"

"I believe our goals are aligned in this. Surely you do not believe you will be left in peace by the Republic ?" Dooku pressed. "The Senate won't stand for it, even if the Jedi somehow accept your presence. Senator Donali might be on the side of the Perlians, but you were correct in your assessment : men such as him are rare in the Senate these days. The petty bureaucrats and Coruscanti leeches might not have the courage or resources to fight an open war, but they don't need it. If you try to play their game, they will strangle Perlia with red tape, cripple its economy with taxes and bills to prevent it from becoming a threat to their comfortable status quo."

"Only by leaving the Republic will you be able to prosecute your war against the Cartels," he concluded. "That is why I believe we can help one another."

For what felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a few moments, Darth Cain merely looked at Dooku. The Count could feel the Sith Lord's gaze, dissecting his every word, analysing his proposal and considering how to answer.

"You will remain on Perlia," said Cain at last, and there was no mistaking the words for anything but an order. "I will arrange for quarters to be prepared for you. When my apprentice returns from Tatooine, we will speak of this further with the rest of my advisors. Until then, I will keep your secret from our visitors."

"Thank you, lord," replied Dooku, bowing his head.

He didn't think the Jedi would believe Cain if he told them that he'd Fallen to the Dark Side, but it was better that he didn't get that kind of attention on him. Of course, if things went as planned and he ended up infiltrating Cain's faction as Sidious had ordered, then exposing himself to the Order was inevitable, but it'd be more convenient to let the Jedi believe his 'Fall' had only happened after Cain's return, rather than years before. Certainly his Master would prefer it this way.

Now, he needed to find a way to contact Sidious without being caught, and without drawing attention to himself. That would take time, but to be frank, Dooku felt Sidious could damn well wait. Right now, he wanted to find his quarters and collapse on whatever bedding had been provided.

I might be getting too old for this, he thought to himself as he left the room, finding a pair of troopers ready to escort him out of the Sith Temple.

---

As Dooku's presence retreated, I let out a deep sigh. Thank the Force, that was over.

Kriff it all, what a day it had been. First, I had gone into the vault to check nobody had breached it during my unexpectedly long absence, which, however necessary it had been (there were things in there I most definitely didn't want getting loose in the galaxy again), had been no less exhausting. Then I had to do diplomacy with Senator Donali (whose job I really didn't envy), a party of Jedi, and – last but not least – a bunch of ex-Imperials in attendance, listening to my every word.

At least the Jedi seemed to have bought the banthashit I had given them. I had needed to come up with a justification that both they and my followers would accept, and the bastardization of Mandalorian philosophy and wildly re-interpreted Sith teachings I had cobbled together had been my best bet. That Darth Erebus would have foamed at the mouth if he'd been able to hear me was just a side benefit to the whole thing.

And then, to top it all off, I had needed to talk to an ex-Jedi who had decided that the only reasonable response to his mid-life crisis was to become a Sith fanboy.

I had been joking when accusing Dooku of being a Darksider. It had been an admittedly poor jest, a reference to the fact Dooku had left the Jedi and become a politician, nothing more. I hadn't expected it to be true, and for him to just admit to it.

Looking back on it, it only made sense that Dooku had turned to the Dark Side, and I really should have seen it coming. Of course a Jedi Master deciding to leave the Order to claim a position of political power would be Dark : it was the nature of politics. Also, there'd been many Jedi who'd turned to the Dark Side during the Great Galactic Wars out of frustration with the Republic and the Order, believing that both were 'too soft' to defeat the Sith Empire. Given that the Empire was most certainly not 'soft' and had still lost, I personally didn't think that'd been a smart move on their part.

Once Dooku had admitted to it, I'd looked at him more closely through the Force, and found the tell-tale signs of wielding the Dark Side in his aura easily enough. The fact neither of the two modern Jedi (the Padawan could be excused) seemed to have detected the touch of the Dark Side on Dooku was worrying, too.

There had been instances of Darksiders infiltrating the Jedi Order undetected before : prior to the Great Galactic War, entire bloodlines of infiltrators had been sent to the Republic, tasked with making preparations for our invasion. In one instance, a Sith Lord had managed to not just infiltrate, but lead an entire Republic superweapon program during the Cold War, and no one suspected a thing until he revealed himself.

Sure, the whole thing had gone up in flames the moment he had revealed himself and run into the Hero of Tython early in her career, but it'd still been quite the achievement. However, all of these infiltrators had used a variety of tricks to conceal their true nature. Had the Jedi really forgotten so much that the minor veil Dooku was using was enough to deceive them ?

I'd need to talk to Amberley about this later. As for Dooku himself, he was dissatisfied with the Republic. Alright, I could deal with that. Being associated with him wouldn't do my reputation in the Core any good, but then again, precious little would. He had to know a lot about the political situation in the galaxy : Malden and the other ex-Intelligence analysts under my command would appreciate his input, at least. And the other worlds of this 'Separatist Movement' might be more willing to trade with Perlia than the rest of the Republic if he vouched for us, too.

I was distracted from my thoughts when JURG-N handed me a datapad. Since Dooku had left, he had been scanning the Holonet for me, compiling what information on our visitors was publicly available. I skimmed through it, intending to go in more details with Amberley once she came back from her own meeting with her fellow Jedi.

It was clear that the Council had put some thought into who they had sent, which I guess some of my old colleagues might have considered flattering, but which only made me more nervous. Plo Koon had been involved in something called the Stark Hyperspace War, which by the standards of my days had been little more than a minor skirmish but was still one of the largest conflicts the Republic had fought in recent years. And Kenobi was a renowned diplomat and negotiator with numerous successes to his name, along with a knack for surviving whenever negotiations failed and lightsabers came out.

A Master general and a Knight diplomat made sense, especially since Plo Koon was on the Jedi Council. The Jedi were taking our return seriously, but they hadn't reacted to the sudden reappearance of their ancient enemy by calling for war, which was the best I could realistically have hoped for. I smiled to myself, thinking that maybe things weren't so bad after all.

Then I got to the entry on Anakin Skywalker, and I felt an all-too familiar sinking feeling in my stomach as I read.

Anakin Skywalker had first appeared on the galactic scene six years ago, when he'd been thanked by the government of Naboo (some Mid-Rim world I had never heard about before, but which had apparently grown in influence over the last few centuries) for his participation in the battle which had freed them from the Trade Federation's occupation.

Putting aside the fact that corporations had armies nowadays (who, by all the pits of the Hells, had thought that was a good idea ?), Skywalker had been nine years old at the time, which was concerning to say the least – but not as concerning as what I found when I dug a little deeper.

Because the reason Skywalker had been thanked was that he'd flown into the battle taking place in orbit around the planet, and blown up the Lucrehulk which had commanded the droid armies on the surface, causing them all to shut down (terrible design, that, but that's what you got when you privatized the military, I guessed). A quick search brought up the publicly available (since the Federation was renting them to anyone with the credits to spare, which was legal for some Force-forsaken reason – what could possibly go wrong with that ?!) specs for a ship of that class.

Despite the size of these things, most of their crew was made up of droids, too simplistic and recently-made to have developed a proper personality, but there were still a couple hundred living crew members.

Which meant that, at nine standard years old, Anakin Skywalker had killed at least two hundred people in a single battle. Kriff, I didn't think Vaylin had a kill-count that high at that age. Now, granted, all these deaths had happened at once in one battle, instead of being drawn-out, tortured affairs committed for sheer sadistic pleasure, and the kid's goal had most likely been to save his own life and protect his new friends. So Skywalker probably wasn't a murderous psychopath.

But still, it was no wonder the Jedi had put him as Kenobi's Padawan so he could keep an eye on him. There was no way the kid had done that without the help of the Force, but not just any Force-sensitive child could have achieved such a terrifying deed. I hadn't seen Skywalker in action, and he hadn't seemed like a violent lad during our brief meeting, but that meant little.

Despite my best efforts to avoid such things, I had met a few absurdly powerful Force-users in my life. The Hero of Tython, the Empire's Wrath, the Barsen'thor, my old acquaintance Imperius (although I suppose one could say he was cheating), Vaylin, of course, and …

And …

I can't breathe. I am on my knees, drowning in terror. The device clamped around my skull amplifies my own fear before sending it back to me in an endless feedback loop. My vision is unobstructed, but all I can see is a pair of pitiless, soulless eyes gazing down at me from a throne of lies –

"Sir ? Sir !"

I gasped, my consciousness dragged back from the past and into the present as JURG-N shook me with a gentleness few would've thought the combat droid capable of. Still panicked, I looked around : there was nobody else to witness my brief meltdown, and I trusted JURG-N not to tell what he'd just witnessed to anyone. Good. I was safe.

Then I noticed that the entire room was frozen over, and I grimaced. I'd lost control, then. The last time it'd happened had been when I'd received the news about the cult on Molech, and been forced to consider the possibility that Vitiate might return from the dead again. I'd thought that one advantage of being hurled into the distant future would be that I'd never need to fear that particular monster again, but it seemed I was wrong.

"Are you alright, sir ?" asked JURG-N. "Shall I contact Knight Vail ?"

"No," I managed to reply. "I … I will be fine, JURG-N. Thank you for your help."

My aide's faceplate wasn't what you would call expressive, but I didn't need the Force to sense the disapproval radiating from him. And, to be honest, I would have loved nothing more than to call Amberley back. But I couldn't, not without risking revealing weakness to both the Jedi envoys and, more importantly, the Sith acolytes in the temple.

Speaking of the Correlian devil, my comm unit beeped, showing an incoming call from the leader of the Sith security team assigned to the temple. I took a deep breath and opened a channel – voice only, as I didn't trust myself to keep what I had just gone experienced from showing on my face.

"Lord Cain, is there something wrong ? We felt a sudden disturbance in the Force."

"Everything is fine," I lied, trying to calm my heart down. "I was merely … considering unpleasant matters. Return to your duties."

One advantage of having an undeserved reputation like mine was that, as long as I managed to maintain it, my subordinates followed my orders without question. I closed the channel, confident that the incident was handled – though I also knew from experience that there was undoubtedly going to be many rumors circulating among the Sith on Perlia before long, each more absurd than the last. So long as they didn't suspect the true reason for the disturbance in the Force (that their leader's mind was still crippled from his first encounter with the creature which had created the Empire and led it for centuries), I was fine with it.

To avoid thinking about … him again, I focused on the overpowered Force-user I actually had to worry about. Much as I would prefer not to have anything to do with Kenobi's Padawan, that ship had already sailed. But if I appeared to show interest in Skywalker, the Jedi would understandably be worried about what the ancient Sith Lord intended for the teenager, and the tentative peace that currently stood between us would be shattered.

I needed to talk with Amberley about this, see what she could dig up. We'd already agreed that she'd be the one to handle the Jedi envoys, and I trusted her to be subtle as she investigated Skywalker's potential. I told myself he couldn't be like Vitiate : the Jedi would never have taken him in otherwise, let alone sent him here. I was just over-reacting, nothing more.

Even without Skywalker in the equation, I absolutely couldn't afford to fight the Republic and the Jedi Order. Sure, they were crippled by these absurd Reformations right now, but they had over a million worlds, and all we had was Perlia, Tatooine, and the Invincible. Sooner or later, the sheer number discrepancy would see us buried in a tide of warships, Jedi, and soldiers – if the Empire at its strongest couldn't defeat the Republic, then we had a snowball's chance on Mustafar to manage it ourselves.

However, the lunatics I'd brought with me through time were all used to war, and I needed to keep them busy or they would go looking for trouble. In that one regard, Vaylin's actions on Tatooine were an unexpected windfall, though I'd have appreciated it if I'd been able to enjoy more than a few days of peace for once in my life (in my opinion and those of most who had lived through them, the thirty-ish years after the Treaty of Coruscant didn't count as peace).

It would all work out in the end, I told myself. The situation on Tatooine was already stabilizing, and I trusted Kasteen's skills enough to know that as long as I stayed in the same system as the Invincible, anything the Hutts threw at us would end up crushed. The war against the Cartels would undoubtedly last for years : plenty of time to figure out a way to prevent my people from going to war with the Republic immediately after. In the meantime, I had no issue with freeing slaves from bondage and cultivating good public relations with the rest of the galaxy.

The challenge would be to balance not driving the Republic to declare war against me and not being deposed (and more importantly, assassinated) by my own disgruntled followers. But I had been walking one vibro-blade's edge or another for as long as I could remember, and this would be no different.

Or so I hoped at the time. Had I known how things would turn out, it'd have taken more than JURG-N shaking me to stop my complete and total meltdown.

---

Tatooine was every bit as miserable a planet as the last time Quinlan had the displeasure of visiting, but there was no denying the mood of the population had changed since the Sith had overthrown Jabba and taken over – and, surprisingly, for the better.

Landing on the planet had been easy : the handful of ships commandeered by the Sith in orbit couldn't possibly block the planet's entire airspace, so they hadn't even tried. Instead, every ship emerging out of hyperspace was contacted, explained the new rules of Tatooine, and told in no uncertain terms that if they had any slaves on board, they better free them on the planet (and if they tried to kill them and space the bodies to keep their presence a secret, the Sith would know, and they would not like what happened next).

The locals were very wary of lone, armed off-worlders at the moment. A couple of carefully worded questions had revealed that several bounty hunters sent by the Hutts had already arrived on Tatooine, looking to cash in on the bounty for Jabba's killer which had been published within hours of the crimelord's demise. And one of the Sith on the planet must have some talent with precognition, because none of them had made it within a hundred kilometers of their presumed target, Vaylin, Darth Cain's apprentice, before being taken out with extreme prejudice.

Not exactly the most reassuring piece of intel for an undercover Jedi to learn, but so far, he didn't seem to have drawn anyone's attention. He'd made his way through the city and reached the junk shop Obi-Wan had pointed him toward with little difficulty, and engaged its owner in conversation – business was poor, it seemed, though whether that was a consequence of the uprising or not he didn't know.

For some weird, unexplainable reason, Watto had been cagey about discussing his past ownership of slaves. But, though his species was resistant to mind tricks, Quinlan wasn't one of the Order's best Shadows for nothing, and he had gotten what he needed in the end, without the need for any violence that might have drawn the attention of the Darksiders on the planet.

The fact the Toydarian had apparently won Shmi Skywalker and her son in a podrace bet, rather than actually going out to look for slaves, had been enough to spare him from the retribution of the new order when the slave masters had been purged. Well, that and the fact that he hadn't owned any slave when the uprising had started.

Watto had only ever owned two slaves : the two Skywalker. And, several years after he'd lost Anakin (the same way he'd gained him, in a podrace bet, what the kriff, Qui-Gon), he had sold his mother to someone else – someone who had freed and married her. A handful of coins made of precious materials – much more useful as currency out here than Republic credits – had been enough to jog the Toydarian's memory further, and Quinlan had gotten a name, Cliegg Lars, and a location : a homestead in the Jundland Wastes.

Shmi's freedom was good news, but he still needed to check she was doing fine before he could call this favor to Obi-Wan's complete and focus on his actual mission from the Council.

So he rented a speeder and flew across the dreadful countryside, following roads that wouldn't deserve the name of dirt paths on any civilized world. By the time the homestead came into view, the twin suns were beginning to set (creating what Quinlan had to admit was a beautiful view), and the Jedi was mentally going over the explanation he would give to the locals.

Then he felt it, coming from the small cluster of buildings in the distance : the unmistakeable presence of the Dark Side. So far, he had managed to avoid the Sith on Tatooine (staying especially far away from Vaylin's presence, which blazed in the Force like a wrathful sun), but he hadn't expected to meet one here of all places – no. Not one. Two, he realized. There were two Sith in the Lars Homestead.

Meanwhile, he was very much alone. Briefly, the Jedi Shadow considered turning back, but gave up the idea almost at once. He had given his word to Obi-Wan, and besides, if the Sith were harming the inhabitants of an isolated settlement, then his official mission demanded that he investigate in any case.

He stopped his speeder and continued on foot, holding his unlit lightsaber in hand. He made no effort to conceal his presence : with civilians at risk, the sooner the Darksiders noticed him, the better.

Sure enough, the door to the main habitation unit opened just as he was approaching the motion sensors forming a perimeter around the homestead, and a tall figure that most definitely wasn't Shmi Skywalker or Cliegg Lars emerged.

A Sith. Not just a Darksider with enough training and power to claim the title by which the Jedi named their ancient enemy, but a member of the original species with which the first Fallen Jedi had interbred thousands of years ago, before the Great Hyperspace War. If not for the research Quinlan had done after taking this assignment, he wouldn't have recognized them, but the red skin and facial tentacles were unmistakable.

Quinlan stopped where he stood, letting the Sith approach. His own lightsaber was turned on, twin purple blades casting strange shadows in the sunset. He paused three meters away from Quinlan.

"Jedi," said the crimson-skinned fiend, making the word sound like a swear. "What are you doing here ?"

"I could ask you the same," Quinlan riposted.

The Sith opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the Force screamed a warning, just in time for Quinlan to duck and avoid being bisected by a crimson blade wielded by a black-skinned Twi'lek woman. He brought up his own green lightsaber just in time to parry the next flurry of blows, but caught off-guard and faced with a duel-wielder, he was forced to give ground.

The Sith moved in, closing the distance with Force-enhanced speed, and Quinlan prepared himself to sell his life dearly, when –

"What's going on here ?!" shouted someone. All three combatants froze and glanced at the homestead, from which a couple of Humans were emerging.

"You should stay inside," warned the Sith. "We don't want you to get caught in the crossfire –"

"There won't be any crossfire !" shouted the woman, who looked aged beyond her years by a lifetime of hard work and privations, yet still blazed with a surprising inner vigor. She turned to look at Quinlan : "You're a Jedi, right ?"

"I … I am, yes," admitted Quinlan, seeing little point in denying the obvious at this stage.

"Good. Lower your weapons, all of you," she ordered, and to Quinlan's shock, the two Darksiders obeyed – then he realized he'd done the same without realizing it. "And don't you worry, Master Jedi : Mister Khayon and Miss Nefertari are just visiting. They're not here to hurt us."

"Really ? Then why are they here ?"

"I invited them," replied the Human woman.

"You what ?"

"I," she repeated, an expression on her face that made Quinlan feel like a youngling at the Temple who had just been caught trying to steal sweets from the kitchens, "invited them. For dinner."

"I … forgive me, miss, but why ?"

"They dealt with a group of Tusken raiders before they could hit us," explained the Human man. "Then they gave us their sand people's weapons as a gift before disappearing into the night. When my wife saw them in passing during a trip to the city, she thought it was only right to invite them for dinner."

Quinlan turned toward the Sith and the Twi'lek : the two of them shrugged.

"Believe me, we were surprised too," said the red-skinned giant. "We aren't exactly used to civilians thanking us, let alone inviting us over. But we didn't have any reason to say no, so …"

This, decided the Jedi Shadow, had to be the will of the Force. Somehow. He wasn't sure what exactly it was trying to achieve here, but it seemed like too great a coincidence that the two acolytes would just happen to be here on the very day he came to the homestead.

He turned off his lightsaber and reattached it to his belt, before bowing to the Human couple.

"My apologies for the misunderstanding, ma'am, sir. I am Quinlan Vos, Jedi Knight. Am I correct to assume that you are Shmi Skywalker and Cliegg Lars ?"

"We are," replied the man. "Though its Skywalker-Lars now for the two of us."

"Oh, right. Watto told me about that, but I forgot, sorry."

Shmi Skywalker-Lars sighed. "Let's get inside and sit down, alright ? It's been several years since I've had a Jedi visiting my home, but I think we can still get you some water."

Which was how, five minutes later, Quinlan was sitting at a table with the couple, their son Owen, and two Darksiders, who had deactivated their weapons but were still staring at Quinlan intently. Owen served a cup of water to everyone, which, after an afternoon driving through the desert, Quinlan took gratefully, drinking slowly to show respect for what, on this planet, was a gift more valuable than any fancy dish from Coruscant's greatest restaurants.

"Why are you here, Jedi ?" asked Cliegg. "I've an idea of why you're on the planet, of course, but why come here, in the middle of nowhere ?"

"Well, before I answer," he looked at the two Darksiders "could I have the names of your guests ? I gave you mine, it's only polite."

"My name is Iskandar Khayon," the male Sith introduced himself. The Twi'lek was still silent : Quinlan had a feeling she didn't talk much, at least not to strangers. "My companion is named Nefertari. We are both Sith Acolytes, on this world to assist in its liberation from the Hutt Cartels. As Shmi said, we were invited here for dinner due to helping clear out a Tusken raiding party on the evening of Jabba's death."

The names didn't mean anything to Quinlan, but he still memorized them anyway. If he made it out of this situation alive (which was looking more likely by the moment, but he wasn't going to let his guard down), he'd send them to the Temple to see if they were mentioned in the records.

"Thank you. As you probably guessed, I came to Tatooine to investigate the recent events, make sure the Sith weren't slaughtering people, that sort of things."

"Given what some of the other Darths had their forces do to occupied worlds, that's fair," admitted Khayon. "Though Darth Cain has never approved of that kind of thing, and we aren't occupying Tatooine either."

"Well, we still need to verify, don't we ? Anyway, before I left the Temple, I was approached by a friend of mine, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's the teacher of Anakin Skywalker, who from what I understand is your son, ma'am ?" Shmi nodded. "And, since I was already going to Tatooine, he asked me to check on you while I was there. I found Watto in Mos Espa and convinced me to tell you what had happened to you, and here I am."

"Well, as you can see, I'm doing fine," said Shmi, before she suddenly frowned. "Wait. You said someone called Obi-Wan sent you ? Anakin left with a Jedi Master named Qui-Gon Jin."

"Ah." Quinlan winced. "Obi-Wan was Qui-Gon's Padawan – his apprentice, what Anakin is to him nowadays. I'm afraid Qui-Gon died a few days after leaving Tatooine, killed on Naboo by … by a Sith, actually."

There was a moment of awkward silence, which was broken by Nefertari :

"We were under the impression that, until the Invincible returned, the Sith had been extinct for a thousand years," said the Twi'lek in a husky voice that would have sounded a lot more pleasant if not for the murderous glee Quinlan still remembered seeing in her eyes during their brief duel.

"So were we," replied Quinlan with a shrug. "We were all pretty surprised when Qui-Gon arrived to Coruscant and said he'd fought a Sith warrior on Tatooine before leaving, and again when that same warrior killed him on Naboo before Obi-Wan killed him in turn. It certainly didn't help with the panic when the news of Perlia reached us, that's for sure."

"What about Anakin ? Is he doing well ?"

"I haven't spent a lot of time with him," warned Quinlan, "but he seemed to be doing fine. Obi-Wan is one of the best Jedi Knights of our generation, so he'd got that doing for him. I think he'd have come here himself, but the Council had another assignment for them."

"Another assignment ?" repeated Owen, the teenager speaking up for the first time since his introduction – clearly, he was intimidated by the two Sith and Jedi Knight in his family home, and more than a little worried, which, given that they had already fought with lightsabers, was understandable. "Where is he, then ?"

Force, Quinlan was off his game today. He'd walked right into this one.

"He should be on Perlia by now," he said, not seeing a way out. "Obi-Wan was chosen as part of the escort for the Republic's diplomacy mission to Darth Cain, and Anakin went with him."

"So Anakin is on Perlia right now ?" asked Shmi.

"Unless the whole diplomacy thing went wrong and they had to get out, but I haven't heard anything about that happening." Quinlan turned toward the two acolytes : "what about you ? Any word on the Sith grapevine ?"

"Nothing," replied the Sith – kriff, this was going to get confusing. What had the ancient Jedi thought, naming a whole Dark Side philosophy after a single species ? "Last I heard, things were going well for the first batches of refugees. Now that things have settled down here, Lady Vaylin is preparing to leave to reunite with Darth Cain."

"Eager to return to her Master's side ?" asked Quinlan, fishing for information on the woman who'd shown the entire galaxy that the Sith had returned and meant business.

Khayon and Nefertari flinched simultaneously, before darting looks around as if to check Jabba's executioner wasn't in the room with them.

"Don't use that word where she can hear you," advised Khayon. "Darth Cain is Lady Vaylin's Teacher, not her Master. And she really doesn't like anyone using that term around her."

Quinlan blinked. "Alright," he said slowly. Weird, but he could deal with it. "Then I won't. I'm a big fan of her work since coming back, anyway."

"Excuse me," said Shmi archly, "can we go back to my son, whom I haven't seen in six years, having been taken by the Jedi to a world recently raided by pirates and currently under occupation by an army straight out of some ancient war ?"

"Technically, the Sith aren't occupying Perlia," began Khayon, before his Twi'lek companion elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

Shmi was glaring at Quinlan now. Given that there were two Darksider killers in the room, the Shadow felt he should be less concerned about the small Human woman, yet he still found himself squirming on his chair.

"I'm sure he's fine," he said. "Like I said, it's a diplomatic mission. Darth Cain isn't going to do anything stupid that would get the entire Jedi Order after him, right ?" he turned toward the two acolytes for support.

"Darth Cain has negotiated with Jedi before," nodded Khayon. "As long as they don't do anything stupid, he will respect the sanctity of messengers."

"I see." Shmi chewed on that for a few seconds, before deciding : "Iskandar, Nefertari, you're returning to Perlia soon, right ? Bring me with you when you do."

"Shmi, dear, are you sure about this ?" asked Cliegg.

"I am, husband. It has been years since I last saw Anakin. When the Jedi took him, I … I told myself that it was for the best, even if I could never see him again. But now, I can't help but think this," she gestured at her surroundings, as if to mean their entire situation, "is a sign."

"Normally, the Order frowns on Padawans being contacted by their families," said Quinlan. "Attachments go against the Jedi Code, and getting involved in matters beyond the Order for personal reasons tends not to go well."

No matter how cold and sometimes even cruel that rule may seem, Quinlan knew it was in place for good reasons. The Force simply made the Jedi too powerful, and meeting with their blood family inevitably brought all kind of temptation with it – and that was when the parents merely wanted to see their child again. Nobody liked to talk about it, but there had been numerous instances in the Order's history where a Jedi's parents had tried to reconnect with their progeny in the hope of using them for selfish gain. It was one of the reasons the Order preferred to claim guardianship of the youngling as young as possible.

"However," he continued, "these are clearly special circumstances. And it's not like I could stop you, anyway. What about you ?" he asked Khayon. "Do you think there'll be any problem ?"

"We can get you onboard the ship bringing us back to Perlia if you wish," Khayon thought aloud. "Nobody would question it, and if they do, they won't have an issue with reuniting you with your son. Helping people is why we came to Tatooine in the first place, after all," he added with a meaningful look at his female companion.

"When do you leave ?" asked Cliegg.

"Last we heard from Lady Vaylin, she is returning to Perlia in a couple of days aboard the Dread Son. Every Acolyte is going back with her, along with most of the troops. We're leaving enough people and seized ships behind to help with the transition and deal with any opportunistic pirates."

"Mom," said Owen, "how are you getting back once Anakin leaves ? You are coming back, right ?"

"Of course I am, Owen," she reassured him, before turning to Khayon. "There's going to be regular shuttles between Perlia and Tatooine, correct ?"

"I'm not involved in decisions at that level, but that seems likely, yes," nodded Khayon.

"Then I'll hitch a ride on one of them," concluded Shmi. "I'll make sure to be ready for departure in two days. For now, let's finally have dinner, alright ?"

Quinlan had a feeling this wasn't quite what Obi-Wan had in mind when he'd asked him for a favor. But, as everyone tucked in for a meal that was far better than the fare the Jedi had expected to find on this miserable sand-ball, part of him couldn't help but wish he could be there to watch the fireworks.

Notes:

AN : I didn't plan on Shmi going to Perlia this early in the story, but she had other plans and I couldn't stop her. I mean, she *is* the mother of the Chosen One, after all.

So I am going to have to adapt the next chapter, but that's fine. I have more or less made peace with the fact that this story is ever so slowly slipping out of my control and is going to end up much longer than I had hoped for.

This chapter ended up much longer than I thought it would. I would say I'm going to try to write shorter chapters in the future, but I know myself too well to make that promise.

One another thing : because I have been reading a lot of SW media, I have realized that people usually have nicknames for droids based on the pronunciation of their designation (R2-D2 is Artoo, for instance). And these nicknames are often used even in narration. Do you think I should change JURG-N to "Jurgen" when people are talking to/about him ? Of course, it's not like it really matters.

As always, I look forward to your thoughts on this chapter.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 5: Reunions

On the bridge of the Dread Son, Agent Malden looked at the endless swirl of energies that was all he could see through the viewport as the ship sailed through hyperspace. Soon, they would arrive back in Perlia.

Malden wasn't Force-sensitive, but he didn't need it to feel the impatience radiating from where Lady Vaylin was seated at the head of the bridge. This trip to Tatooine had been the longest the young woman had spent away from Darth Cain since she'd become his apprentice, and it was clear she didn't like it one bit. That the crew was capable of working while in the presence of a fretting Sith was a testament both to their skills and how far Valkorion's daughter had come under Darth Cain's tutelage : Malden had heard the stories of her time as High Justice of Zakuul, and the bodies – friends or foes – she'd left in her wake wherever she went.

To the best of Malden's knowledge (which was quite extensive), Lady Vaylin hadn't tortured a subordinate in a fit of rage in years, and hadn't killed one on the spot since she'd become Darth Cain's apprentice. Which, really, told you everything you needed to know about the kind of miracle the Sith Lord was capable of : back in the Empire, even the most stable Sith were responsible for at least some not-so-friendly fire accidents.

Of course, Vaylin had killed plenty of Imperials after joining the Lord of Terror, but none of them had been working for Darth Cain, so that was fine – and besides, there were very few among Darth Cain's followers who hadn't done the same at some point or another, Malden very much included.

Once, Malden had been known as Cypher Twenty-Three, an agent of Imperial Intelligence, the shadowy, omnipresent organization that had been the source of many of the Republic's worst defeats during the First Great Galactic War. Most of the agency's operatives had acted independently, performing missions assigned to them by their handlers on Dromund Kaas and doing whatever was necessary to keep the wheels of the Empire turning, but there had always been a group among them tasked with interfacing with the Sith who actually ran the Empire in the Emperor's name. Which was how, at the dawn of the Second Galactic War, Malden had found himself assigned to Darth Cain and shipped off straight to the front lines, tasked with using his skills and contacts to support the Sith Lord's activities in whatever way Cain willed it.

Before his death, Darth Erebus had gone through Intelligence operatives at an alarming rate, but the victories he'd won for the Sith Empire had been considered worth the cost – that, and every attempt to eliminate him had been seen through and failed disastrously. Malden hadn't expected Darth Cain to be any different from his Master : if anything, given that he had not only killed Erebus according to most rumors (which was a transgression against the ways of the Sith, although their interpretation of their own rules was always shifting at best), but he had gotten away with it, and been elevated to the rank of Darth right out of his apprenticeship by none other than the Emperor himself.

Everyone who knew of Darth Cain's existence at the time had expected him to be an even worse monster than Darth Erebus – later, Malden had learned that the first Republic army the Lord of Terror had faced had nearly broken ranks the moment they'd realized they were facing the Hand of Destiny's successor. But, like every Chiss sent by the Ascendancy as part of their treaty with the Empire, Malden had been willing to lay down his life in the course of his duties.

However, Darth Cain had been nothing like Erebus at all. He was powerful, yes, that much was unquestionable. But he didn't execute his subordinates seemingly at random, and whenever someone dared to raise a question or objection about the course of action he'd charted, he actually listened to their advice and took it into account. Which really shouldn't have been as much of a surprise as it had been.

Even Cain's tactics were nothing like Erebus', for which Malden was deeply thankful. He might have been willing to follow orders from his lawful superiors regardless of their nature, but there was no doubt in his mind that he slept much easier under the Lord of Terror's command than he would've under the Vile One (a sobriquet bestowed upon Darth Erebus by the Republic, and which the Sith Lord had embraced whole-heartedly).

Instead of using Sith rituals and weaponizing cruelty on a planetary scale, Darth Cain used actual, solid tactics combined with creative thinking and frequent strokes of instinctive genius, always leading from the front. Statistically speaking, every simulation model Malden had access to was certain the Sith Lord should have died decades ago, yet no matter what the galaxy threw at him, he always ended up not just surviving, but triumphing time and again.

It was little wonder then that he was worshipped by the troops under his command, whose lives he hoarded with a greed worthy of a member of the Dark Council. Unlike most Sith, who regarded the soldiers of the Imperial Army as disposable tools to achieve their immediate goals, Darth Cain took a long-term view, cultivating the loyalty and strength of his forces until they stood head and shoulders above all but a handful of non-Force-sensitive units in the entire Empire. Back when such talk had been treasonous, Malden had even heard people whisper that Cain's Legion could take on the Imperial Guard itself and be victorious.

While Malden and his colleagues didn't quite share the soldiers' blind devotion (their profession requiring them to be somewhat more cynical than the ground-pounders), even they wouldn't deny their admiration for Cain. When Imperial Intelligence had collapsed and been reformed as Sith Intelligence, Malden had gone to great lengths to avoid being reassigned to another, more typical Sith. He and the other spies and analysts who had joined the ranks of Cain's followers over the years had pulled every string and called in every favor they could to ensure that. Even then, it might not have been enough, had Darth Cain himself not interceded in their favor to the Dark Council, claiming that their work was invaluable in his activities.

"Fifteen minutes until exit from hyperspace," called out one of the officers.

They had made good time, Malden reflected. For all of Varan's many faults, the pirate captain had taken good care of his ship, and invested a lot of resources into making it as fast and deadly as possible – not that it had mattered one whit in the end, faced with the overwhelming might of the Invincible and the no less overwhelming power of Lady Vaylin. The Imperial engineers had only needed to fix a few things (only half of which had been damaged during the ship's capture) and give the whole vessel a deep cleaning before it had been ready to serve as the flagship of Darth Cain's apprentice as she led the liberation of Tatooine.

Now, the cargo bay of the Dread Son was full of various ship parts the engineers had taken from the junkyards of Tatooine and Jabba's personal collection of antiques (trading them for supplies in the former case, and claiming them as spoils in the latter). Most of them would be used to repair and upgrade the captured pirate ships which made up their pitifully small fleet, while the rest would have the honor of being used on the Invincible itself. Malden was doubtful of the technicians' claims that they might be able to build a new hyperdrive for the flagship, but it wasn't his job, and he was all too aware of how vulnerable the survivors of the Sith Empire were so long as Darth Cain's flagship was becalmed in Perlia.

The liberated slaves who needed relocating had already been sent to Perlia ahead of the Dread Son, but there was still one civilian on the ship, one who had been brought by Khayon and Nefertari, two of the most powerful Sith Acolytes among Darth Cain's followers. As Lady Vaylin's effective right-hand man, Malden had been introduced to Shmi Skywalker when the Sith pureblood and his Twi'lek … companion (it might be Malden's job to know things other people would rather he didn't, but he had no desire to get involved in whatever was going on there) had brought her onboard before their departure, along with a weird protocol droid who was absolutely terrified by its situation.

Malden wondered who had designed the personality matrix for it and what they had been thinking at the time. From what his eyes and ears among the crew had told him, it was both unfailingly polite and loyal to Shmi Skywalker, while also constantly complaining whenever it thought (wrongly) nobody could hear it. And it didn't even have a restraining bolt, which had long been standard practice in the Empire (apart from unique cases, like JURG-N).

At first, Malden had thought the two acolytes had kidnapped one of the locals, and he'd prepared himself for a distressing conversation where he'd have to carefully explain to them that this wasn't what their lord would want, walking the razor's edge all the while to avoid being killed by the Twi'lek (Khayon was one of the more reasonable Sith on the expedition, so he wasn't going to just kill Malden out of hand if the agent angered him). But then the Human woman had cut in and said that she was here of her own free will, so that she could meet with her Jedi son, who apparently was one of the emissaries who had been sent to Perlia – something she'd learned from a Jedi operative on Tatooine, which was the first time Malden had heard about it.

Malden's instinct, once he was done internally bemoaning the fact that neither of the acolytes had thought to warn him about the Jedi until now, had been to start calculating how they could leverage the situation to extract concessions from the Jedi envoys. Then his common sense had reasserted itself and he'd realized what a terrible idea that would be.

From their regular communications, they knew that Darth Cain was already conducting negotiations with the Republic and the Jedi Order : throwing a wrench into the process by doing something all but guaranteed to ruin any goodwill he might have managed to foster in the seven days since the envoys' arrival was sure to draw his ire.

And while Darth Cain's ire was slow to rise, once awakened, it was terrible to behold. Malden had seen his lord's fury unleashed only a handful of times, and he would be perfectly fine with never seeing it again. Republic commanders, rival Sith Lords, and finally the cultists of the mad Emperor : all had broken before the rage of Darth Cain, and even those closest to the Lord of Terror had been shaken by the awe-inspiring power he was capable of in such a state.

No, far better to bring Shmi Skywalker-Lars to Perlia, grant her every possible courtesy, and let the Jedi deal with the fallout. Besides, Lady Vaylin seemed to have taken a liking to the woman, who, despite seeming like a smart, capable person in every regard, seemed completely unafraid of the Sith. Malden had discreetly asked Khayon whether she was Force-sensitive, to which the pureblood had shrugged and answered he was pretty sure she wasn't, but there was definitely something weird going on with her, which he attributed to her son having been taken by the Jedi.

At which point, Malden had decided that this was all Force business, and not his to deal with until things blew up, at which point it would fall to him and the other operatives to clean up the mess. It was something they were all well used to, although the Lord of Terror's Sith followers were far less frequent offenders than the rest of the Empire in that regard.

The ship's return to reality shook Malden out of his thoughts. The slowly rotating orb of Perlia was visible through the bridge's viewport, along with the shape of the Invincible. Less than twenty seconds after their arrival, the flagship's greeting reached them :

"Dread Son, this is Commodore Kasteen of the Invincible. Welcome back, Lady Vaylin."

"It's good to be back, Commodore," replied the Lord of Terror's apprentice with a smile. Even after all this time, the sight of it still sent a shiver down Malden's spine. "I trust all is well ?"

Comms were disabled while in hyperspace, so their last check-in with Perlia had been back on Tatooine. Malden could tell nothing major had happened just by glancing at the flow of information from the Dread Son's sensors that was being rerouted to his datapad.

Still, better safe than sorry.

"The situation remains unchanged," replied Commodore Kasteen. "We are still hosting emissaries from the Republican Senate and the Jedi Order."

It still felt weird to hear. This wasn't the first time Darth Cain had met with Jedi without things turning into a battle, even disregarding Knight Vail's situation, but the thought that genuine coexistence between the Imperial remnants and the Republic might be possible still felt … unnatural. Malden might have spent too long in the Empire, surrounded by a propaganda machine that put anything in the Ascendancy to shame constantly claiming that the Republic's greatest wish was to finish the genocide of the Sith it had attempted at the end of the Great Hyperspace War, he realized. He'd started to believe in the propaganda it'd been part of Intelligence to spread, and that was never a good sign for an operative.

"Darth Cain has prepared a ceremony to welcome you back and honor your great victory on Tatooine," continued the Commodore. "I am sending you landing coordinates now."

"Thank you, Commodore," said Lady Vaylin. "Will I see you planetside ?"

"Actually, yes," replied the Imperial officer with a slight smile. "I've been asked to attend, and my crew can manage for a day or two without me breathing down their necks."

"I see. I look forward to it."

The transmission cut off, and Vaylin turned to look at Malden, one eyebrow raised.

"I will make sure Commander Sulla is ready," Malden assured her, before turning to leave the bridge.

The Mandalorians had spent the trip in the empty cargo bay they'd requisitioned, maintaining their gear and doing what they considered training exercises, and that most cultures would consider attempted murder. The rest of the crew had wisely ignored the shouts and explosions and left the warband to its own business, but Sulla would never forgive them if they didn't give her time to prepare.

Especially since the Prime Minister was all but certain to attend the ceremony. While Jenit Sulla could be surprisingly subtle at times (she was as good with logistics as she was with a weapon, and had earned her leadership the traditional Mandalorian way : by beating up any challenger), her budding romance with Trevellyan was one of the worst kept secrets of the Sith leadership.

---

Despite what one might expect, going to Regent from Prime Minister hadn't really changed Lio Trevellyan's workload. Whether that would prove to be a long-term thing or was just an inevitable consequence of recent events naturally creating more work for Perlia's government was yet to be seen.

Not that Lio was complaining about it, of course. The memory of the pirate attack was still far too fresh, the wounds far too raw, for him to even think about regretting how the way in which it had ended had cost him his previous position.

For generations, their small defense flotilla had been more than enough to keep opportunistic bandits at bay and police the system's hyperlanes. And until Varan's coalition had arrived and overwhelmed their defenses, there hadn't been any sign that this was about to change. Caught completely off-guard, the space defense force had done all it could, destroying several pirate vessels before they had inevitably succumbed to sheer weight of number.

For days afterwards, Perlia had been subjected to raids across its entire surface. Having gained orbital supremacy, the pirates could strike anywhere they pleased with impunity. Only the capital city had been spared thanks to its shields and anti-orbital defenses, but even those hadn't been enough to hold forever : the pirates had started mounting raids from the surface, landing beyond the reach of the guns and riding speeders all the way to the city – which wasn't walled or fortified, because why would it be ? Perlia was a modern, civilized world, even if it was far from the so-called spring of civilization in the Core.

Thankfully, the bulk of the raiders had ignored the city itself and moved right through and toward the Regency's Palace, the large building from which Trevellyan's predecessors had directed the course of Perlia for thousands of years. And unlike the city around it, the palace had been fortified, a legacy of the dark times of uncertainty during which it'd been built.

Lio could have evacuated the Palace : there were a number of secret passages built precisely for such a purpose, but all would have led inside the city, where he'd be easy prey for the roving bands of pirates looking for plunder. And if he was the pirates' target, then by staying within the Palace, he was giving them a clear target to focus on, instead of scouring the planet for him.

His only other source of relief at the time had been that he'd gotten his niece (and sole remaining family member and heir after an unfortunate speeder accident ten years ago that, as far as every investigation had been able to tell, genuinely had been no one's fault) to the safety of a bunker deep within the Perlian wilds, somewhere no pirate would ever think to look. But that was poor consolation for all the people who had lost someone to the raiders.

Eventually, Lio had been about to pick up a weapon and head for the walls himself, to join the final stand of the Perlian Defense Force. He hadn't fired a weapon in battle once in his entire life, and his work as Regent had left him no time to continue the shooting lessons he'd taken as a young man. But he'd still been determined to do it, since that was the only thing he could do.

He had been afraid, of course. Terrified, even. But he had forced the fear down, refusing to let it show on his face. If he had to die, then by the Force he would die as a Regent of Perlia. He'd failed his people by allowing this to come to pass, but perhaps his death in combat could go have gone some way toward erasing the shame he'd brought to his office.

And then, the broadcast, on every frequency. A message, a warning, a command – a revelation.

Darth Cain had returned, and he'd brought the Invincible, the great ship which held a place of pride in every Perlian myth second only to its master, back with him. The Lord of Terror was back, proclaimed the voice, and woe betide the fools who had dared trespass into his domain.

The Regent hadn't believed it at first. Like every Perlian, he'd grown up with stories of Darth Cain, the ancient warlord-king who had rescued the planet from the depredations of the Accursed Ones, and his many seemingly impossible deeds. And, like every Perlian except for a small handful of inoffensive loons, he had accepted that, if the tales of Darth Cain's existence were even true, the Sith Lord was long dead, and the promise of his return nothing but a polite political fiction woven by his distant predecessor to keep Perlia from fighting a war against the Republic it couldn't possibly win.

He'd thought some survivor of the system defence forces was making a desperate bluff to try and scare the pirates away. But then the skies had lit up with the detonations of pirate ships, obliterated without being able to do anything in return. The palace's long-range scanners had confirmed the arrival of a new ship in the system, one whose signature matched records so ancient nobody remembered they even were in the databanks. Transports had descended from orbit, carrying soldiers wearing gear identical to the few pieces that survived in a handful of planetary museums, and massacred the pirates.

And in the void, Darth Cain himself had faced the leader of the raider armada, his apprentice at his side, and killed the bastard in single combat.

In that moment, to the people of Perlia, Darth Cain had been more than a story come to life, more than a heroic figure from the distant past returning to save them in their hour of greatest need. In that moment, he had been a god.

In the aftermath, Lio had expected to be punished for his failure to protect Perlia. Part of him had even longed for it, thinking it to be the only way he could atone for his crime of letting the people he'd pledged to lead and protect come to such harm. But Darth Cain had forgiven him, and welcomed him at his side, to continue his service in a new way. Lio had sworn to do so at the very best of his capabilities, and he'd thrown himself into the work of rebuilding Perlia according to the Lord of Terror's vision.

It had been challenging, to be sure. While Darth Cain was supremely intimidating, he was also a reasonable man, willing to listen to his Prime Minister and other advisors. But it had quickly become clear that the way the old Sith Empire – even that small slice of it under Cain's direct control – had done things was very different from what was standard in the galaxy these days. Often, one of the other officers would suggest courses of action Lio would never have considered, and for very good reason.

For instance, no, blowing up a volcano in order for the ash to counter the global warming from the prolonged laser bombardment wasn't acceptable. Darth Cain had shut down that suggestion quickly, but the thought that some Sith Lords had considered it an acceptable method of terraforming was disquieting, to say the least.

Not all of the Sovereign's Imperial subordinates were as heavy-handed, thankfully. Lady Sulla especially had been a delight to work with before she had needed to leave the planet to join Lady Vaylin on the expedition to rescue the captured Perlians which had led to the liberation of Tatooine. Her mastery of logistics had been a great help in coordinating the relief efforts, although why in the name of the Force she had seemed embarrassed of her own skills, Lio didn't know. He could only attribute it to the warrior-centric attitude of the ancient (and not so ancient) Mandalorians, though surely a culture dedicated to battle would understand the importance of proper supply chains ?

In any case, Jenit was coming home with the rest of the sub-commanders of Lady Vaylin's expeditionary force today. Three days ago, Darth Cain had summoned Lio to the Sith Temple, and told him that he had a new task for him. The Prime Minister had steeled himself, expecting some grand endeavour – which was exactly what he'd received, although not in the way he'd expected.

Darth Cain had wanted to throw a proper welcome for his apprentice and those who had helped her liberate Tatooine, and he had asked Lio to organize it. Knowing how much Darth Cain valued his apprentice, and how important what she had achieved on Tatooine would be to the future of Perlia, Lio had taken the assignment with all the seriousness it deserved.

The celebrations which had taken place in the immediate aftermath of the Sovereign's return had been subdued by necessity, since there had been a lot of more important things to worry about (Darth Cain's own words, not the ex-Regent's). Now, however, they had more breathing room, and after everything they had gone through, the people of Perlia deserved to celebrate. Lio had been half-way through the preparations when he'd realized that Darth Cain must have thought of that as well, and was killing two sky-lizards with one stone by combining his apprentice's welcome ceremony with a planet-wide opportunity for his subjects to cut loose and relax.

Truly, the wisdom of the Lord of Terror was awe-inspiring.

The noise of the Dread Son's engines as the ship descended through Perlia's atmosphere drew Lio out of his reminiscences. He was standing a respectful distance behind the Lord of Terror, with the rest of the Perlian officials who had been gathered to welcome Lady Vaylin home. Aware of the many devices transmitting the event planet-wide, Lio straightened his posture, and prepared himself to do his part as part of the background while Darth Cain was reunited with his apprentice.

Only a complete fool would dare interrupt this moment, after all.

---

Anakin did his best not to show how nervous he was, though he suspected Obi-Wan, Plo Koon and Amberley were fully aware of it regardless, and only an idiot would think Darth Cain couldn't sense it somehow with his weird fear powers.

They were all at the Perlian capital's spaceport, waiting with baited breath in the complex' largest hangar. Darth Cain's apprentice was arriving today, returning from Tatooine in triumph. Anakin was excited to meet Jabba's executioner and the leader of the greatest slave liberation in recent galactic history – he knew she'd probably be very busy, but if he got the chance, he wanted to thank her in person.

The fifteen-years old Padawan had spent the last week helping out in the refugee camp around the Sith Temple. Since he couldn't add anything to the diplomatic side of things, Obi-Wan had allowed him to go out and put his mechanical skills to good use. Technically, he was also supposed to check there was nothing suspicious going on in the camp, but after the first day of running around and helping, he had completely forgotten about it.

Besides, it was more important to help the freed slaves, in his opinion. Anakin had helped set up power generators, water pumps and purifiers, public freshers, and a bunch of other stuff. It had been simple, but fulfilling work, using the skills he'd learned during his time as a slave to help those who, like him, had been freed from bondage.

The work had helped calm his doubts and self-recrimination for not being the one who had helped them down. Yes, he hadn't freed his homeworld's slaves, but he was still helping them now. And nobody blamed him for it, because why would they ? Jedi-in-training or not, he was still only fifteen. It had taken a whole bunch of Imperial operatives weeks of planning and coordinating to overthrow Jabba's rule, people who had been trained all their lives in that kind of work.

The highlight of his time helping had been when he'd been asked to assist in setting up the de-chipping center, for those who hadn't had the time to get their explosive chips removed before leaving Tatooine. There weren't many, but with the improvised hospitals on the desert world being flooded with patients, some had decided to escape the planet before having the chips removed – although the detonators themselves had been destroyed, along with every single such infernal device on Tatooine.

Anakin's own chip had been removed years ago : when he'd come to Coruscant for the first time, Qui-Gon had brought him to the Jedi Temple's Halls of Healing, before they'd gone to see the Council. There, one of the Healers had removed the device which had loomed so large over him for his entire life – she'd even handed him a small hammer used to test reflexes, so that he could smash it himself.

He still remembered the elation, the sheer feeling of relief as he had brought the hammer down and looked at the small pieces of the collar he had born inside his own flesh for so long. Seeing other people go through the same thing had been an incredible experience, and so had helping built the scanners to locate the chips before their surgical removal.

The entire refugee city was covered in a jamming field designed specifically to block the chips' detonation signal. Anakin had asked to see the plans and made sure to memorize them, just in case he needed them someday. There were still many, many slaves in the Outer Rim, after all.

Amberley (the first time he'd called her Miss or Knight Vail, she'd insisted he call her by her first name) had been around the growing town a lot as well. She wasn't anywhere as skilled with machines as Anakin, and she was still recovering from her injuries, so she couldn't help with the hard labor. But she was very good at helping the newly freed slaves deal with the sudden change in their circumstances, either by reassuring them or by simply providing a shoulder for them to cry on when their emotions overwhelmed them.

(Anakin wasn't envious of that. Of course not. A Jedi must be in control of their emotions, after all.)

The Jedi had called Coruscant to check on her story as soon as they could. It had taken Madame Nu some time digging into the Archives, but she had eventually found a mention of a Knight Amberley Vail dating back to the correct era.

On its own, it didn't mean Amberley wasn't an imposter using the identity of a long-dead Jedi, but Anakin was certain she was telling the truth. He couldn't imagine a spy acting like she did, and he could feel the truth of her words in the Force. And besides, a lot of stuff had been lost (which clearly pissed off Madame Nu) : it was only thanks to Darth Cain's infamy that so much of his own legend had survived to this day. For instance, the list of his vault's contents had also disappeared without trace, and the reveal of its existence had made the Council very nervous.

The Chancellor had even asked whether they should demand Cain hand the contents over to the Jedi Order for safekeeping. There had been some debate on the question, but on the whole, it had been decided it was best not to poke the krayt dragon and assume Cain's unwillingness to use the vault's contents in the past would continue now.

They had asked for Amberley to share what she remembered of the contents, though. Just in case.

The Dread Son landed, Anakin absently noting the recent patch jobs that had been done on its hull following its capture. The boarding ramp came down, and Lady Vaylin, slayer of Jabba the Hutt, liberator of Tatooine and apprentice to Darth Cain, stepped out.

Anakin felt the Force blazing within her, stronger than anything he'd ever felt before. Only Master Yoda even came close (although he was pretty sure the old Jedi was stronger than he seemed, while Vaylin was flaunting her strength for everyone with the ability to sense it). Since joining the Order and learning the use his abilities consciously, Anakin had met many other Force-users, but very few of them had registered as nearly as strong in the Force as him. But he was certain that, at least right now, Vaylin had more raw power than he did.

Which only made sense, he reasoned, since she was at least ten years older than him (her face had a strange ageless nature that made it difficult to figure out her exact age). Then Anakin sensed another presence, nearly completely eclipsed by that of Darth Cain's apprentice, but achingly familiar. Eyes wide, he looked behind Vaylin, and – there.

She was older than he remembered her. There were more wrinkles in her face, and several streaks of gray in her hair that hadn't been there when she'd hugged him goodbye and told him not to look back. But he recognized her. How could he not ? He'd thought about her almost every day since leaving Tatooine six years ago.

The word left his lips before he could even think about stopping it :

"MOM !"

And then he was running, all thoughts of propriety and protocol and the Jedi Code forgotten. He jumped over the heads of the startled troopers and ran up the ramps. He heard Obi-Wan shout something behind him, but he didn't pay attention to the words. All he could see was his mother, walking out of the Dread Son just behind Vaylin.

He threw himself at her, hugging her close. She returned his hug, and they stood there, reunited at last.

"Oh, Ani. Look at how tall you have grown," she said, voice choked with tears as she hugged him back.

She was smaller than him, he realized with a shock. In his memories, she had always been so tall, but now she was slightly smaller than him.

"You're here," he whispered, voice choked with tears, body shaking with emotion. "You're free."

"Yes, Ani, I'm free," she whispered into his ear. "I told you we would meet again, remember ?"

"You did. You did."

Tears ran down his face, and everyone was staring at them, but he didn't care.

His mother was here. His mother was free. In that moment, nothing else mattered to Anakin Skywalker.

---

As a visiting foreign dignitary, Dooku had been invited to witness the return of Darth Cain's apprentice to her Master – no, her Teacher, the Count mentally corrected himself, just in case the incredibly powerful young woman could hear him using the word in his mind somehow. He had been worried she too would be able to sense the touch of the Dark Side on him, but had to trust that Darth Cain wouldn't let him be exposed to the Jedi envoys.

What he definitely hadn't expected had been Kenobi's Padawan doing something so … so monumentally stupid. For a few heartbeats, Dooku thought things were about to turn violent, as the Sith troopers went for their weapons at the sight of the teenager running toward their Lord's apprentice. His own hand moved to the hilt of the lightsaber at his belt – not his true, red blade, but a standard green one he could wield without revealing himself to the Jedi in attendance. He didn't know what exactly he would do with it, but instincts sharpened over a lifetime spent fruitlessly trying to save the Republic from itself couldn't be ignored so easily.

Yet before anyone could do something they would all regret (although Dooku had no doubt an eruption of violence at this time and place would have pleased his Master), Darth Cain raised his hand in a silent command, and exerted the merest fraction of his power. Compared to having the Sith Lord's full attention focused on him, this was nothing, but it was still enough to freeze everyone in their tracks long enough for Skywalker (who seemed not to have even noticed the Sith Lord's display of sorcerous might) to run right past Vaylin and envelop the small Human woman standing behind her in a hug.

Darth Cain's apprentice looked at the teenager, nonplussed. She was clearly as surprised as the rest of them, but Dooku could see no sign that she had been worried for her own safety, though whether that was because she'd known Skywalker's intent or because she'd known with absolute certainty the Padawan was no threat to her, the Count wasn't sure.

"Well," said the Sith Lord, smiling indulgently. "This is quite the surprise. Why don't you introduce us, Padawan Skywalker ?"

"Oh ! Um, sorry, sir ! This is my mother, Shmi Skywalker. Mom, this is Darth Cain."

"Hello, lord," the woman greeted the Sith with a bow of her head. "I am Shmi Skywalker-Lars. You are Lady Vaylin's Teacher, right ? Thank you very much for sending her to Tatooine. All of us are in her debt for freeing us from the Hutts, whatever form our chains may have taken."

"You are welcome, Mrs Skywalker-Lars," replied Darth Cain, before making a show of looking around. "That being said, I think this is hardly the place for such an emotional reunion. I will let you continue this in private."

He snapped his fingers, and a pair of troopers approached the mother and son pair, gently guiding them through the crowd. Dooku didn't know where they were going, but he didn't think they had anything to fear – Skywalker was still carrying his lightsaber, if nothing else.

"Now, with that unexpected but delightful distraction out of the way," proclaimed Darth Cain, bringing everyone's attention back to him, before turning to Vaylin, who had stood still during the entire exchange, a bemused look on her face : "I have already told you as much, but it bears repeating : you have done well, my apprentice. I am proud of your actions."

From then, the rest of the welcoming ceremony went off without further incident. Cain greeted each of his apprentice's sub-commanders in turn, praising their actions on Tatooine. Dooku carefully memorised each of their faces and names. There was Jenit Sulla, a Mandalorian who led the other warriors who had rallied to the Lord of Terror's banner. Commander Broklaw, once of the Imperial Army, a stout, scarred man who looked at the Jedi in attendance without a sliver of fear in either his countenance or his aura. Malden, a blue-skinned, red-eyed alien of a near-Human species Dooku didn't recognize at first glance and who'd apparently coordinated the operation with the local groups resisting the Hutts.

And, last but not least in Dooku's eyes, a pair of Sith acolytes who'd led the others attached to the task force, a Twi'lek and what the Count could only assume was a pureblood Sith. The red-skinned race had long been supposed to be extinct, save for a few degenerate descendants scattered across the galaxy, but Dooku had already seen several specimens on Perlia, although none of them had burned as strong in the Force as this Iskandar Khayon.

With the initial welcoming ceremony complete (once Senator Donali and Prime Minister Trevellyan had added their own words of congratulations to the returning heroes), they left the spaceport, taking a group of transports back to the Sith Temple. On the way there, Dooku thought back on Skywalker's actions, and then on what he knew of the boy. Given that bringing Skywalker to Coruscant had been one of the last things Qui-Gon had done before his death (and one day, he would have his revenge on Sidious for that, as was only right and proper for a Sith), he had spent some time discreetly investigating the child, and knew that he'd once been a slave on Tatooine himself, before Qui-Gon had arranged his freedom.

If Dooku knew his former Padawan, Qui-Gon would never have intended to leave Shmi Skywalker stay a slave on Tatooine. There was no doubt in the Count's mind that Qui-Gon had intended to return to the desert planet at some point to free her, even if he had to steal a bunch of spare parts from the Temple's stockpile to trade. Yes, it would've technically been financing slavery, as well as encouraging young Skywalker's attachment instead of teaching him to let go, but Qui-Gon's interpretation of the Jedi Code had always been … unorthodox.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Qui-Gon hadn't shared this plan with anyone, be it the boy or his own Padawan, and when he'd died, Kenobi had found himself thrust into the role of a Jedi Knight with a student of his own. Dooku wasn't sure why exactly Kenobi hadn't gone to Tatooine anyway, but he had a feeling the Order's restrictions on attachment and emotions were to blame, although he must admit he didn't know the details of what had happened when his Padawan had met the supposed 'Chosen One'.

Briefly, Dooku wondered if he was to blame for Qui-Gon's habit of keeping his thoughts to himself and acting without explaining his plan to anyone beforehand, and startled, wondering where the sudden stab of guilt had come from. He hadn't quite been himself since his first discussion with Cain, when he'd been exposed to the ancient Sith Lord's power. Thoughts and emotions he'd thought long buried, cast aside on his path to mastering the Dark Side, kept coming back to haunt him at the most inopportune moments.

He hadn't communicated with Darth Sidious since his arrival : while his ship's comms were equipped with the best security money could buy on the black market (something which was expected among planetary rulers), he didn't trust even those security measures while on a world controlled by Darth Cain. His Master had known to expect this, of course. It meant that at least Sidious wouldn't be able to sense these … these doubts (he might as well call them what they were), which Dooku knew would put him in danger. If Sidious thought Dooku's dedication to the cause was faltering, he had no doubt the elder Sith would immediately arrange for his death.

The Dark Side, after all, did not tolerate any weakness in those who sought to wield its power.

---

After that near-disaster at the spaceport, the rest of the day went more or less as planned. We passed through the capital under the acclaim of the crowds Trevellyan had arranged, before taking a speeder to the Temple, where my apprentice was welcomed with even more applause by the ex-slaves. It wasn't the first time Vaylin was showered with praise, but I could tell that the thanks of the refugees meant a lot more to her than she let show.

It wasn't worth going to war with the Hutt Cartels for, but I would take any silver lining I could get. So I had given her my patented Look of Approval #3, 'You have done well, my apprentice', which she had eaten up like a youngling with a frozen treat. Sometimes, I felt bad about how easy Vaylin was to manipulate, then I remembered how many thousands of people she had killed while working for her brother, and that she was much happier and well-balanced nowadays (although I still wouldn't call her perfectly sane), and the guilt disappeared like an alien slave caught in the streets of Dromund Kaas at night without a powerful patron.

Once we were in the Temple, it was time for the official debriefing of Vaylin, Malden and Sulla, as we went over their operation on Tatooine in detail and discussed the planet's future. Vaylin had handed over governance of the sandball to the locals before leaving, which I approved of whole-heartedly : actively adding worlds to my direct control was among the last things I wanted at the moment. But it was clear that the locals would need our help to keep their newfound freedom, and with the Invincible still trapped in the Perlia system, we'd need to rely on our flotilla of captured ships.

With the more urgent business taken care of, we all went to the state dinner which Trevellyan had arranged at the Temple itself. The Prime Minister (or, well, whoever he'd hired to take take care of the catering : I hadn't expected the man to do it himself, that would've been daft) had done an excellent job, with specialities from all over the planet being served.

Besides myself, Amberley, Vaylin and her command staff, I had invited Commodore Kasteen down from the Invincible, as well as the envoys from the Republic and Count Dooku. Skywalker was here with his mother (on the way from the spaceport, I had asked Trevellyan to add her to the seating, so as to avoid any potential incidents). We were eating within one of the Temple's largest rooms, with several other tables hosting soldiers who had distinguished themselves during the Tatooine campaign (including every Sith acolyte who had participated, since not inviting any of them was a recipe for disaster if I ever saw one), along with a gaggle of Perlian officials.

A troupe of musicians provided a lovely soundtrack to the meal from one corner. Where exactly Trevellyan had found a troupe of musicians versed in traditional Imperial Sith music on such short notice, I had no idea. The Jedi seemed a bit unnerved by the music (admittedly, it was something of an acquired taste), but it was a bittersweet reminder of the homes we'd lost for the rest of us.

Eventually, the meal ended, and things devolved into a more disorganised party (during which, I noted with no small amount of amusement, Sulla ended up on the dance floor with Trevellyan, looking both uncomfortable and very happy), which I knew was being emulated elsewhere across the planet. More importantly, I was finally able to withdraw to my quarters with Amberley.

As soon as the door had closed behind us and I had taken off my boots, I collapsed onto the extravagant bed and let out a long, drawn-out groan. There was no need to maintain my facade as a Sith Lord : JURG-N was keeping watch on the other side of the door, so we wouldn't be interrupted without warning.

"That was way too close," I moaned. "I get that the kid was happy to see his mother for the first time in years, but did he have to nearly start a war ?!"

"You're exaggerating," said Amberley, that small smile she always had when I complained to her on her lips. "You handled it without any problem, didn't you ?"

"Yes, but these morons nearly threw us into a war with the Republic right then and there," I grunted, burying my head into a pillow as I remembered the way damn near every single soldier present had gone for their weapons. "What did they even think was going to happen, Skywalker taking a swing at Vaylin ? The kid is strong, but she would eat him for breakfast."

"Yes, yes, your apprentice is stronger than a fifteen-years old Padawan," Amberley said in a soothing tone.

She sat on the bed next to me, and guided my head to her lap. I didn't resist her, drawing comfort from her presence as I always did.

To this day, I did not know how the two of us had ended up in our current relationship. I remembered every step of the whole process perfectly, but I couldn't make sense of it. By all accounts, a Sith Lord and a Jedi getting involved was foolish in the extreme, and something my self-preservation instincts should have kept me from at all costs.

And yet, here we were. Apart from JURG-N, there was no one in the whole galaxy I trusted like I did Amberley. I'd had a number of flings before meeting her, but none of them compared to our relationship. If I hadn't met her all those years ago … no. I firmly turned my mind away from such imaginings.

For a time, we simply stayed there, basking in each other's company. Then, she told me :

"I need to go to Coruscant."

"I know," I replied, sighing.

Someone had to bring the victims of Varan's mind-control to Coruscant for healing : I would prefer not to have any more Jedi on Perlia than necessary. While there was little chance of them doing something stupid, I couldn't say the same for all the Darksiders on the planet. All it would take was one moron deciding that fighting a Jedi would be a nice way to spend an afternoon, and we would all be kriffed.

Of course, I trusted her to take care of herself. She was a big girl, and I had seen her kill things five times her size and dozens of times her weight while barely slowing down. I was slightly better than her when it came to lightsaber technique, but she had improved by leaps and bonds since we had first met. Nowadays, she won at least four out of ten of our sparring matches with training weapons – and I never held back against her, nor she against me, we respected one another too much for that.

But while I had no doubt she could handle herself in a fight, even she couldn't take on the entire Jedi Order, and I was worried that was exactly what would happen on Coruscant. The Jedi envoys may have been unfailingly polite (and appropriately mortified about their Padawan's behavior, though I had waved it off in the interest of not getting the overpowered teenager pissed at me right after accidentally getting a lot of kudos with him by reuniting with his mother), but that was while they were surrounded by an army loyal to me. Things would be different on Coruscant, where Amberley would be on her own (I had offered, for form's sake, to give her an escort, to which she had merely given me a look which told me everything I needed to know about how bad of an idea that would have been).

Even if the Order had relaxed on its attachment to traditions in the last millennia (which was a big if), they still had perfectly valid reasons to be suspicious of Amberley. Frankly, if they hadn't been suspicious of a Jedi returning to the fold after being missing for thousands of years and reappearing alongside a bunch of Sith, I would have been very worried for the galaxy.

I didn't need to say any of that out loud : I knew she had already come to the same conclusions I had. So, instead, I merely said :

"I will miss you."

"I will come back," she whispered. "I promise."

"I know."

We spent the next few hours taking advantage of what might very well be our last moments alone together for several months, until we fell asleep in each other's arms, the sound of wild partying still echoing beyond the open windows.

---

As befitted a diplomatic vessel, the Shield of Damocles' main conference room contained a state-of-the-art holo-projector, allowing the Jedi to communicate with Coruscant without any trouble. Obi-Wan could only hope that the encryption was also up to snuff : while they weren't likely to discuss anything that might anger Darth Cain, the notion that the Sith could listen in on their conversations as they pleased wasn't a reassuring one.

Three images rose above the projector : Masters Yoda and Windu, and Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. This wasn't the first time Obi-Wan and Plo Koon had called the Republic's capital since their arrival on Perlia, but it was the first time they were doing so without the presence of Obi-Wan's Padawan – something which didn't go unnoticed.

"I don't see Anakin with you. Is he alright ?" asked Palpatine right after they had completed the formal greetings, a worried look on his face.

Ah, so the recordings of Vaylin's return hadn't made it to Coruscant yet. Of course, it was only a matter of time until they did, and then the Order would have some pointed questions for him regarding his Padawan's behavior. While Obi-Wan couldn't blame Anakin for his reaction to seeing his mother for the first time in years yesterday, it had come perilously close to causing a diplomatic accident.

"Anakin is doing fine, Chancellor," Obi-Wan assured the Chancellor. "It's just that Lady Vaylin brought a surprise guest with her from Tatooine, and he's reconnecting with his roots, so to speak."

"What do you mean ?" asked Windu, frowning.

"Apparently, Padawan Skywalker's mother heard he was on Perlia and accompanied the Sith returning here to see him," explained Master Plo Koon. He made no mention of the fact Obi-Wan was the one responsible for that, however indirectly, for which the Jedi Knight was grateful. He didn't regret asking Quinlan to check on her, but he knew there were those who would not approve within the Order.

Master Windu's frown deepened, but before he could say anything about how un-Jedi-like Anakin's attitude was, Chancellor Palpatine cut in :

"Ah, that is great news then. I know Anakin has always been worried about her – seeing that she is fine will be a weight off his shoulders. He's still with her, I take it ?"

"Yes," replied Obi-Wan, grateful for Palpatine's intervention. "They are currently helping out in the refugee camp around the Sith Temple."

"Discuss this later, we will," said Yoda firmly. "For now, your report, give us."

"As you know, Darth Cain's apprentice has returned from Tatooine," began Master Plo Koon. "We were invited to her welcoming party, which has turned into a planet-wide celebration of the Liberation of Tatooine and the declaration of war against the Hutt Cartels."

"Confident, the people are, of their eventual victory against the Hutts ?" asked Yoda.

"They don't expect it to be easy," explained the Kel Dor, "but on the whole, I would say that they are. The Imperial troopers have already followed Cain into battle after battle and emerged victorious : their faith in their leader is admirable."

"The Perlians overwhelmingly support Cain's decision as well," said Obi-Wan. "Local media has been showing interviews of the people brought from Tatooine on loop, and the stories of the depredations they suffered have roused a great deal of outrage. For now, they are still focused on rebuilding and dealing with the refugees, but there's already talk of raising a Perlian army to supplement the Sith troopers."

"And while the Invincible's foundries are building lodgings for the former slaves, they could just as easily start building weapons and military equipment," said Master Windu. "Cain has the perfect cover to bring raw materials aboard his ship, and there's no way for us to know how much of it truly goes to its avowed purpose."

Obi-Wan hadn't thought about that. He wasn't sure Darth Cain had planned it this way, but whether Master Windu was being paranoid or not, the end result was the same.

"That is worrying," said the Chancellor. "I have also received reports from Republic Intelligence : their operatives in the Outer Rim have heard rumors of a massive gathering of pirates, slavers and other never-do-wells under the banner of the Hutt Clans."

"Troubling, this is," mused Yoda. "Always a violent and lawless place, the Outer Rim has been, far from the Republic's centers of order and law. But avoided the ravages of open warfare for centuries, it has."

"I'm not sure the alternative was any better, Master Yoda," said Obi-Wan, as respectfully as he could. "Certainly not from the perspective of the slaves who were freed by the Sith. I have spoken with Anakin about it, and the refugees' admiration for Vaylin borders on worship."

"Our failure, it is, that come from the Sith, hope had to," said Yoda sadly. "But vigilant, we must remain."

"You are still of the opinion the Republic has nothing to fear from Darth Cain at this time ?" asked Master Windu.

"I wouldn't go that far," said Obi-Wan, "but I'm reasonably certain he doesn't have any intent to declare war on the Republic in the immediate future at least."

"Honorable for his time, Darth Cain may have been, but a servant of the Dark Side he remains," warned Yoda. "Surrounded by darkness and evil we cannot imagine, he has always been : warped by it, he inevitably has been. Return to Coruscant soon, Knight Vail must. To hear her thoughts on this matter, the Council needs."

"I have spoken with her about it," said Plo Koon. "She said she wanted to wait until Vaylin had returned, in case something went wrong on Tatooine. Yesterday, she told me she was ready to accompany the victims of Varan's mind-control to the Jedi Temple."

"Good. We'll send a medical transport to Perlia. What about you ? Will you remain on the planet ?"

"I believe it would be in everyone's best interests that we do, for now," said Obi-Wan. "The situation is bound to continue evolving rapidly, and we'll better be able to react if we're already here."

What went unsaid was that, while it wasn't quite a hostage exchange, since the Jedi Council wouldn't do anything to hurt Knight Vail, only a blind fool wouldn't have noticed that the relationship between the Knight of the Old Republic and the Sith Lord was … complicated. The three of them remaining on Perlia would serve as reassurance that the Republic didn't just intend to leave the planet to its fate right after learning everything it could.

"What of Senator Donali ?" asked Palpatine.

Obi-Wan concealed a wince. There was a reason Donali wasn't in the room with them, even though it was his ship and his transmitter.

"Now that he has been reassured Darth Cain has no intent to take over the galaxy, the Senator appears to be pleased with the situation," said Plo Koon. "The Damocles Sector has been suffering from increasing pirate activity for years : he is in talks with the Sith administration to see if some kind of protection scheme can be put into place in the long term."

"Meaning that the Sith Lord's influence will spread," noted Windu. "Is that legal ? Can we do anything about it ?"

"While the Reformations prevent the establishment of a true military without the approval of the entire Senate, individual Sectors are allowed to maintain forces for their own self-defences," said Palpatine, looking troubled. "The Invincible aside, I cannot think of any specific regulation that would prevent Darth Cain from sending troops to other systems as long as he had their permission."

"Much as I don't want to think of it, it may be time to bring the notion of re-creating the Republic Army before the Senate," said Windu, visibly pained by his own words. "We Jedi are keepers of the peace, not soldiers – not for the last thousand years. If Darth Cain builds up a military in the Outer Rim, we won't be able to stop him on our own."

That … Windu had a point, but Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel it was wrong for a Jedi Master to be the one suggesting it.

"Give into fear, we must not," said Yoda firmly. "A threat to the Republic, Darth Cain could be, yes. But could and will, very different things are. A different kind of Sith, Cain has shown himself to be. Careful, we must be, not to jump to conclusions. Else, the very war we dread, while it could be avoided, we will start."

"I suppose you are right, Master Yoda," nodded Palpatine. "For now, I will do all I can to keep the Senate calm as we observe how the situation develops."

Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. They were all very lucky that the Republic was led by a man like Palpatine at this time : a Supreme Chancellor with a different temperament might very well have already started a new galactic war. And while a part of the Jedi Knight, the part that had been taught many horror stories about the Dark Side and the Sith during his training at the Temple, felt that such a conflict might be inevitable, it was undeniable that the Republic wasn't ready for one now.

---

Once the call to Perlia was over and the Jedi had left his office, Palpatine let his mask slip, allowing his face to show the barest hint of the fury he felt. Had anyone else been in the room, the sight of the kindly old politician turning into a snarling, yellow-eyed fiend would have been enough to freeze them with terror, even though he still kept the veil which hid his Dark Side presence firmly in place.

After several seconds, Sidious took a deep breath. He didn't calm himself : that was they way of the weak-minded Jedi. No, Sidious wouldn't discard his rage, it was much too useful for that. Instead, he let it cool and freeze, before burying it deep inside him, where it could serve as fuel for his power. Then, once he was no longer in danger of tearing his own office apart in a fit, he considered the new information he had just gained.

This … was not ideal. He hadn't really thought Kenobi and Plo Koon would advise for an immediate invasion of Perlia by every Jedi that could be drummed up (Cain was far too cunning to let that happen), but the cautious acceptance the two were recommending was close to his worst-case scenario. Of course, any reaction would have presented its own challenges, even if the Jedi had warned that Darth Cain intended to conquer the Republic as soon as he was done crushing the Hutts and securing his power base in the Outer Rim, and that the Republic needed to start preparing for the inevitable war to follow immediately.

In theory, the Republic militarising served Palpatine's interests, since such armed forces would ultimately answer to the Supreme Chancellor, as per the principles engraved in the Republic's oh-so-important Constitution. In practice, there was a reason his original plan had relied on using Kaminoan clones to bear the brunt of the civil war. Normal soldiers wouldn't have the control chips that would allow him to turn them all on the Jedi with the metaphorical flip of a switch. And the kind of people who joined the military to protect the Republic from a resurgent Sith menace weren't likely to be the most susceptible to support his planned transformation of the Republic into a new Empire, either.

He would adapt, though : he had already known that, barring something lucky happening (and Sidious, like any true Sith, didn't believe in any luck he didn't make himself), this was the most likely outcome.

No, the source of his anger was presence of Anakin's mother on Perlia. Palpatine had long been planning to use the woman to bring the Jedi's precious Chosen One closer to the Dark Side : from their regular discussions, it was clear that, despite the Order's best attempts to mold him into another mindless follower of their hypocritical Code, Anakin's attachment to her remained as strong as ever.

All it would have taken was a few visions of her death sent through the Force at a time when Kenobi was too busy to investigate, and then have some disposable pawns kill her before being killed by Anakin in turn. Hatred and guilt alike would have pushed the boy closer to his destiny as Sidious' apprentice then, and his need to keep what had happened from the rest of the Order would have further grown the rift between them.

Now that the woman had drawn the attention of Darth Cain and his followers, the plan was still feasible, but the risk of his manipulations being discovered was too great. If she died now, perhaps he could blame her death on the Imperial Sith, and use that to prevent Anakin from falling in Darth Cain's clutches, but he didn't trust any of his agents to avoid detection by the Imperials, and failure, let alone discovery, could be catastrophic. No, the woman would live, for now.

He glanced around at his office, and wondered whether it might be time to redecorate. Since claiming the post of Supreme Chancellor, he'd slowly brought more and more pieces of his collection of Sith artefacts to the suite, delighting in flaunting his prized possessions to the blind Jedi. The pieces he'd brought here had been carefully selected to minimize the risk of identification, and he'd the flimsy trail proving that each of them was a gift from someone disposable to an innocent politician with no understanding of the Force – to have the Line of Bane finally be exposed because of a choice in decoration would've been supremely humiliating.

Some of the pieces in his office had been crafted long after the fall of the Sith Empire, but others, like the vase containing Korribanite incense, were even older. The only artefact whose nature was obvious as the bas-relief from Yavin 4, depicting a battle between the Sith and the Jedi, which the Light-sided fools believed was evidence of Palpatine's reverence for their hateful Order. Given that Palpatine had been forced to suffer the presence of the Jedi Council members in the room far too many times, and nobody suspected a thing, he had been confident he could continue to enjoy this secret triumph until the day of the Order's ultimate destruction.

But now, following Darth Cain's return, public interest in the Sith was growing. Historians who, until recently, had been languishing in obscurity, were now the darlings of the Holonet, with countless interviews being broadcast all over the galaxy, side-by-side with images from Perlia itself showing the renovated Sith Temple there – and the growing refugee city at its base.

Sidious had to admire Cain's cunning there, as there were now thousands of human and xenos shields that would stand in the way of the Jedi and the Republic if they tried to attack his stronghold, all while the weaklings were convinced he was granting them asylum out of the goodness of his heart – ha ! As if such feeble notions had any place in the heart of a true Sith.

There had also still been no contact from Dooku, but that much was to be expected. The Jedi envoys had confirmed his apprentice had arrived on Perlia, and was presently engaged in diplomatic talks with the planet's administration behind closed doors. So at least Cain hadn't killed him on the spot, which had been a very real possibility. Losing Tyranus at this stage would have been a blow to his schemes, as the Count was a convenient figurehead for the worlds dissatisfied with the Republic to rally around, but his value had diminished since the arrival of Darth Cain.

After a long moment of considering his next move, Palpatine left his office and entered a side-room whose door was locked behind a thirty-digits combination code, retina scanner and voice recognition – all of which was to be expected within the office of the Supreme Chancellor.

The room was dark and anonymous, with nothing indicating its location. Within it were only two things : a set of hooded robes and a communication table, which was one of the handful of devices Darth Sidious used for his illicit activities as a Sith Lord. After changing into the robes, Sidious activated the later and input a specific frequency, which wasn't registered anywhere (the device couldn't record anything, as an added security measure).

It took several minutes for the call to connect. Between the distance of the call and the many layers of encryption it had to go through, the projection's quality was quite poor, but Sidious could still recognize the middle-aged Human woman who appeared in the hologram.

"Miss Hanar," Darth Sidious said, no longer bothering with the mask he presented to most of the galaxy as Sheev Palpatine. The transmitter would obscure his face and voice, leaving him only as an ominous, hooded figure who could be anyone – only his nature as a member of the Human race was left clearly identifiable. "I have a job for you."

Hanar was one of the many contacts among the criminal circles that Sidious had cultivated over the years. Unlike the departed Varan, she had no talent in the Force, nor did she know Sidious' Sith name. She was merely a thief of some talent, whose services Sidious kept through a combination of generous payments and the threat of sending evidence of her activities to the Hutt Cartels, who looked dimly on people stealing from them.

"What do you need ?" she asked cautiously.

"It is my understanding that Marlo the Hutt is gathering forces to punish Darth Cain for his apprentice's murder of Jabba," he said. "I have recently learned that the Invincible will remain trapped in Perlia for several months, unable to enter hyperspace until its current repairs are completed. I want you to ensure Marlo is made aware of that information."

There were many rumors on the Holonet about the Invincible, but precious little actual information.

"Hmm." She frowned – she wasn't refusing his instructions, Sidious knew, merely considering how best to proceed. "Marlo has sent a call that he'll pay well for any intel on Cain. Is the intel true, or is it a trap ?"

"Does it matter ?" asked Sidious, mildly curious what his pawn's response would be.

"I'll do it either way," Hanar shrugged, "but if it's a trap you are drawing Marlo into, I need to arrange a patsy or two to send the info in my stead, and lie low for a while just in case. The slug is taking this seriously : he won't appreciate anyone interfering, and he has a lot of bounty hunters at his beck and call."

"The information is true," replied Sidious with confidence. If there was one single area in which he'd willingly admit Anakin was his better, it was his knowledge of mechanics and shipbuilding. "If you can, use it to gain Marlo's favor and obtain a place in his court. That is secondary to making sure he gets the intel, but I'll pay you a bonus if you manage it."

Hanar grimaced, not hiding her displeasure at the thought of having to deal with the Hutts any longer than necessary. Sidious didn't care : she would do as he asked, or he would destroy her. And she knew it, too, which was why she didn't object aloud.

"I'll get on it immediately," she assured him.

"Good. Do not fail me in this, thief," warned Sidious, before shutting down the connection.

Maybe having Tatooine ravaged by the Hutts' armies would turn Anakin against Cain, especially if Palpatine managed to convince the boy that this was the other Sith Lord's fault. At the very least, it would stoke the flames of his anger, while weakening Cain's position.

Notes:

AN : And here we are, the end of the first arc of Darth Cain, Reluctant Sith Lord (DCRSL). We have dealt with the immediate aftermath of the Invincible's arrival : now the dominos are beginning to fall, and the galaxy will never be the same.

You can just hear Cain's blood pressure rising. I would feel bad for him, but his presence in any setting is an objective good, so he will have to deal.

As far as my research was able to find, there is no named Cypher Twenty-Three in SWTOR, so I used that number for Malden. For those of you who don't know, Cyphers are the field operatives of Imperial Intelligence (think James Bond, but working for an employer with even less moral scruples and an even darker backstory than the British Empire - I know, I know, I shudder to think of it myself).

The Sulla/Trevellyan pairing, and the bit about blowing up a volcano on Perlia, were "inspired by" (and by that, I mean "shamelessly ripped off from") GoatBane, over on the SpaceBattle thread. They have drawn a series of comics for this story, which are both hilarious and incredibly sweet, and I highly recommend you check them out.

I am going to put this story on hold for the immediate future in order to go back to my other stories, which have been neglected since the start of May and my focus on DCRSL. The next chapter of Ciaphas Cain, Warmaster of Chaos has been half-finished for longer than this fic has existed, among other things : A Young Girl's Weaponization of the Mythos has been left on a rather cruel cliffhanger, A Blade Recast hasn't been updated in months, as has the Roboutian Heresy.

Of course, this is all dependent on the Muse's whim.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts, theories and suggestions.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 6: Schemes

The last time Amberley had seen the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, it had been a smoking ruin.

Like hundreds of her contemporaries, she had returned to the Republic's capital in the wake of the Sacking to find the planet reeling from the Sith's cowardly assault, and nearly passed out from all the pain and death suffusing the world-city, her mind overwhelmed by the dark emotions echoing in the Force. Only the fact that there were so many people needing help had kept her on her feet.

The Imperial bombing had only lasted for a handful of hours before the planet had surrendered and the Sith had stopped the slaughter, holding their ships threateningly in orbit as their diplomats extracted concessions from the Republic at the 'peace talks' of Alderaan. But such was Coruscant's population density, that brief period of open slaughter had been enough to kill hundreds of thousands.

And those had merely been the direct casualties of the bombardment. In the years that had followed, many times that number again had perished as a result of the damage to the planet's infrastructure, despite the best efforts of many people to repair the most vital networks. It was only the intervention of the mysterious Gree, years later, which had brought the planet back to its pre-Sacking levels of stability – right in time for the Treaty to end and a new Great Galactic War to begin.

Searching through the rubble of the Temple for survivors, and then to extract the corpses for proper burning and the relics which had later served to rebuild the Order's heart on Tython, had been among the worst days of Amberley's life. When the decision to leave Coruscant and move the Order's headquarters to the Jedi's ancient homeworld had come down from the Council, she couldn't have left Coruscant's ghosts behind her quickly enough. She had then spent many days on Tython meditating, trying to get the images out of her head. In the end, she hadn't been any more successful than most other Jedi, and it wasn't until meeting Ciaphas that she'd slowly managed to get over the trauma.

To see the Temple now, rebuilt larger than ever, was a bittersweet joy. It told her that the Order had endured, despite everything; that the ideals to which she'd dedicated her life, of doing good and serving the people of the galaxy, had survived the millennia. And while there was still darkness on Coruscant (an inevitable consequence of so many people living on one world, to say nothing of all the galaxy-shaping politics which took place here), it was nothing compared to the pall of dread, despair and suffering that had hung over the planet during the Great Galactic Wars, even as countless souls strove to rebuild, each one a candle shining through the dark.

The Temple hadn't been rebuilt exactly like she remembered it from before the Sacking. There were small and not-so-small variations in the architecture, but the biggest difference was in the aura she could feel emanating from it.

Before the Sacking, the Jedi Temple of Coruscant had been a beacon of light and harmony, letting all who beheld it take heart from the mere fact that such a place existed. After the Sith attack led by Darth Malgus, it had been turned into a large pile of broken pieces, avoided by the rest of the population, with even the looters staying far away. The violence of the attack had been imprinted into the Force, and anyone with even the most tenuous connection to it had been able to sense it and instinctively recoiled from it – a fact she knew Imperial spies had taken advantage of to hide within the ruins more than once, until the Hero of Tython had wiped them out in one of her career's early exploits.

Now … now, it seemed diminished somehow. It was still great, still mighty, but slowly crushed by the weight of the world around it. As if, in their efforts to fit in with the rest of the Republic and what it expected of them, the heart of the Order had lost an important part of itself.

Or maybe it was just nostalgia coloring her memories. Amberley was self-aware enough to know she was not without her own foibles, and while she would never be the equal of the Order's great champions from her time, her own talents had still greatly increased since she'd last been here.

As the anti-gravitic stretchers carrying Varan's victims were brought up the steps, she stayed at the bottom for several minutes, allowing herself to grieve for all that she had lost. Her sorrow passed through her, and then into the Force, where it didn't disappear but didn't hurt as much.

"Death, yet the Force," she whispered the last line of the Code to herself, before climbing the steps to the main entrance of the Jedi's galactic headquarters.

The guardians of the Temple let her enter without comment, though she felt the weight of their gazes on her as she passed. Good. If they'd been willing to completely trust someone with as suspicious a backstory as hers, she would have needed to teach them why that was a bad idea, and that would have made her upcoming meeting awkward to say the least.

A member of the same species as Master Oteg (a Jedi Master who'd served as a Fleet Admiral for the Republic, and been instrumental in the liberation of the legendary Revan from the clutches of the Empire) waited for her inside, accompanied by a dark-skinned Human man who was tall in his own right, but looked even taller by comparison.

"Knight Vail," the Human greeted her with a slight bow. "I am Mace Windu, Master of the Order. This is Grand Master Yoda," he continued, gesturing to the diminutive being at his side.

Amberley had already known both their identities, of course. The names of the Jedi on the Council were a matter of public record, and she had done her research since arriving in this strange, peaceful era. Yoda and Windu were famous, and seeing them up close, she could well understand how they'd reached their prestigious positions : the two Jedi Masters radiated strength in the Force.

"Greetings, Masters," said Amberley, her own bow deeper than Windu's, showing the proper respect for their higher ranks. "As you already know, I am Amberley Vail, Knight of the Jedi Order."

"Good it is, to see you returned to us after so long," said Yoda with a smile. "Lost to the Order forever, our distant forebears thought you to be. Come, now. Much to discuss, there is."

They escorted her through the Temple and up to the chamber where the rest of the Jedi Council awaited. On the way, Yoda made small talk, asking general questions about her health : he had been informed of her injuries, and asked whether she'd like to visit the Healers after her debriefing.

"I would appreciate it," she replied. "Cain's medics did their best, but from what I've learned, medical technology has advanced a lot since my time."

"The Perlians didn't offer to help ?" asked Windu, raising an eyebrow.

"Perlia's healthcare system is still working far beyond capacity handling the wounded from the pirate raid, Master Windu," Amberley replied, letting just the smallest bit of edge creep into her voice. "While those in critical condition have long since been handled, there is still a large number of injured who need special care, and I wasn't going to take the bacta tank of someone who needed it more. Even the Invincible's infirmary was used to take off some of the most gravely injured patients from the overflowing hospitals when we arrived."

"Ah, yes," nodded the Jedi Master. "The Sith are still using kolto, aren't they ?"

"They are." There was no point in trying to conceal that fact. "Kolto can do some pretty impressive things, but there's no denying bacta is better, at least when it's high-quality. Commodore Kasteen is already working on upgrading the infirmary with the newer stuff, though : Darth Cain has always insisted on using only the best medical equipment available on his flagship."

Which was one of the reasons she had survived her injuries on Molech in the first place. Ciaphas may have carried her to safety in his arms, but without the top-of-the-line facilities aboard the Invincible, she'd still have died.

On the way to the elevator at the center of the Temple, they passed Jedi Knights who glanced at her curiously, and groups of younglings who openly stared at the unknown Human woman accompanying the two Masters. The children's age was slightly disturbing to Amberley, as she was used to Jedi students being much older. The last time she'd seen someone as young in Jedi clothing, she'd been pulling their burned corpse from the Temple's ruins, tears running down her face as she dug into the rubble with her bare hands –

Yoda appeared to sense her distress, as he gently reached up to squeeze her hand, sending a wave of calm through the Force, which she accepted gracefully. Her emotions were all over the place, but she needed to be focused for her meeting with the Council : there was too much at stake for her to mess up.

The elevator brought the three of them all the way to the top of the Temple's main spire. The windows gave a breathtaking view of the surrounding area, with the cityscape of Coruscant stretching all the way to the horizon.

The chamber where the Jedi Council gathered was smaller than the one Amberley remembered visiting many times on Tython. As the Order's designated point of contact with Darth Cain, she had been summoned by the Council more often than most to give her thoughts on various events, be given special assignments, and, far too often for her tastes, convince one or more of the Masters that no, the Lord of Terror wasn't secretly plotting some grand scheme to end the Republic and crown himself Galactic Emperor.

The thought of Ciaphas, who went through so much trouble to delegate as much of his responsibilities and duties as he could, pursuing such a position was ludicrous, but in this as in so many other things, her companion suffered from the reputation of his people (which, to be fair, was entirely deserved).

And now, here she was again, to reassure the Council that the events of Perlia and Tatooine weren't the start of a Sith resurgence. Despite herself, Amberley smiled slightly : the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, it seemed.

Yoda and Windu took their seats, and everyone else followed suit. Every seat of the Council was filled, either by someone physically present or, like in Plo Koon's case, by a holographic projection. It was another subtle reminder of how different things were now : back in her days, the casualties of war meant that there had always been empty seats on the Jedi Council, even if the turnover had never been as bad as the Dark Council's. This Council, however, knew very little of war.

Not nothing : she knew Plo Koon himself had participated in the 'Stark Hyperspace War', which had been only a minor skirmish by her standards, but had still been an actual conflict. And there was no doubt in her mind that the longer-lived members of the Council had also faced their lot of challenges before being inducted into its ranks.

Windu introduced each of the other Masters, then they got to the reason for the meeting.

"We have confirmed your identity in the records beyond all reasonable doubts," said the Master of the Order. "There is no questioning the fact that you're indeed Knight Amberley Vail, believed to have perished in the same accident which killed Darth Cain and most of his followers. Now, however, we all know that's not what happened, and we must discuss how the Order's to react to recent events."

"Starting with Cain himself," said a male Vurk named Master Coleman Trebor.

"Of all of the Empire's Sith Lords, Darth Cain was among the most dangerous," she admitted. "But his desire for peace with the Republic is genuine, I assure you."

"This is not the first time the Order has heard words to that effect. In the early days of the original schism, during the Hundred-Year Darkness, thousands of years before even your era, many attempts at peace were made between the followers of the Light and those of the Dark," pointed out Windu. "More recently, during the New Sith Wars, Jedi and Republican diplomats tried numerous times to sue for peace. Anytime the Sith accepted, it turned out to be a trap, whether to bring some important Jedi to a vulnerable position or to buy time while the Darksiders gathered their strength before striking again. In fact, the same was true in your time, wasn't it ? With the Treaty of Coruscant ?"

"It was," Amberley nodded. "And, truth be told, we all knew it before the terms of the Treaty were even made public, apart from a few optimistic or hopelessly naive souls within the Republic who didn't understand the evil at the core of the Sith Empire. But despite the price the galaxy paid, there wasn't any choice. The Sith had a blaster aimed at the head of the Republic, and their diplomats were very careful to keep their demands just unacceptable enough that refusing them was still the worst option."

That bastard Baras, the head negotiator for the Empire, had been very cunning. Word of his death at the hands of the new Emperor's Wrath had been the one silver lining to the otherwise worrying news that the Emperor had found a new pet executioner (even though he'd ended up turning against Vitiate in the end).

"But this is different," she continued. "Cain is different. He is a Sith, yes, and a master of the Dark Side whose Force powers have few equals. But he is unique among them," unfortunately, she added silently. In her opinion, the galaxy would be much better off if more Sith were like Ciaphas.

"Difficult it is, to understand Cain," mused Yoda. "For the well-being of their followers, Sith care not. Pain and suffering, the way of the Dark Side, is it not ?"

"Oh, it absolutely is," said Amberley. With this Darth Sidious still out in the galaxy somewhere (she wished she could tell the Jedi about him, but right now, this would look like her trying to distract her from Perlia), she didn't want the Order to start thinking all Sith were like Ciaphas. That way led to catastrophe. "But Cain has always had a … unique perspective on the Force compared to his peers. Back in the Empire, most Sith Lords were focused on short-term gains and immediate gratification, whereas he always considers the long-term consequences of his choices."

"One might say that makes him more dangerous, no less," Windu pointed out.

"Only to his enemies," replied Amberley. "And in all the years I've known him, the only times he's struck first was when someone did something truly, unevoqually awful – I suspect because it reminded him of Darth Erebus."

Even here, even now, speaking the bastard's name aloud still sent a shiver down Amberley's spine. She was fortunate enough to never have met the degenerate Sith Lord in person : by the time she'd received her Knighthood, he'd already been dead, and no Padawan had been allowed within the same Sector as the Vile One under any circumstance. But she knew what he'd done, both to Republic and Imperial civilians, and she had an idea of what he'd done to Ciaphas and his fellow Apprentices in his efforts to shape them into more instruments of evil.

It was not pleasant knowledge, and she took a deep breath, drawing on the Temple's serenity to fortify herself against it. It had happened, and there was nothing she could do about it – there had never been anything she could do about it. She had still been a Padawan when Erebus had died, after all, and while she was confident in her own abilities, she wasn't arrogant enough to believe her younger self could somehow have succeeded when so many Republic operatives and Jedi Knights had failed.

"Yes, we've all been told about that particular Sith Lord," said Master Mundi. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we're fortunate it was his apprentice who arrived from the distant past rather than him."

Once again, Amberley's calm was tested, as she nearly threw up at the thought of Darth Erebus being unleashed upon the current galaxy.. She had faith that the Order would have defeated him in the end, if only because the Vile One's sheer, maniacal evil would've united the entire galaxy against him, but the suffering he could've caused before being put down … it didn't bear thinking about.

So she didn't.

"There is, however, the question of how objective you are about Cain," said Windu, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Based on the records you sent us, you have spent a long time working with him against various threats to both the Republic and the Empire."

"If you are trying to dance around the question of whether he seduced me to the Dark Side, Master, please stop worrying about embarrassing me," replied Amberley bluntly. "You aren't the first Master to ask the question."

"And the answer is ?"

Amberley couldn't tell them the true nature of her relationship with Ciaphas. They wouldn't understand – even the Jedi of her era wouldn't. But she couldn't lie either : they would sense it, of that there was no doubt.

Fortunately, tying the truth into knots for the greater good was one of the skills she had most developed during her time as one of the Jedi Knights most frequently deployed alongside Sith.

"That while Cain might have tried to draw me away from the Order, I tried the same with bringing him into the Light, and we both had equal success. I am a Jedi, a servant of the Light. And while I do believe that Cain would have been a great Knight of the Republic had he been born within its borders, the time for that has long since passed." Even if he didn't believe it himself, the scars of Erebus' 'teaching' running too deep in his soul, she was certain of it. "And he can still be an ally to the people of the galaxy. I promise you, whatever dark scheme you think Cain is plotting right now, he isn't. His war against the Hutts was started by his apprentice after he sent her to free people from slavery, and Vaylin killed Jabba not because it'd set the stage for Cain's takeover of the Outer Rim, but because she simply couldn't abide his crimes anymore."

Amberley had ambivalent feelings toward Vaylin, but she knew Ciaphas' apprentice's thoughts when it came to anything which reminded her of her father's treatment of her. Ciaphas hadn't intended to start a slave rebellion on Tatooine when he'd sent her there, but he really should've seen it coming. If Amberley hadn't still been recovering at the time, spending most of her days going in and out of consciousness, she'd have warned him about it in advance.

"You may be right," admitted Master Mundi. "But Darth Cain isn't the only ancient Sith we need to worry about. Let us assume that he has no hostile intentions toward the Republic and the Jedi Order. What about the Sith who came through time with him ? We know very little about them. Do they share his perspective ?"

"That's … a complicated question," Amberley grimaced. This was the part of this discussion she'd dreaded, because it was a very good point. "The Sith acolytes aboard the Invincible were all loyal to Cain, and Vaylin, his apprentice is almost fanatically devoted to him. She, at least, wouldn't do anything she thought he wouldn't approve of. But there is a chance that the acolytes might misinterpret Cain's instructions, yes. It hasn't happened yet, though, even when they participated in the liberation of Tatooine, so I think we owe Cain the benefit of the doubt."

"Tatooine is sparsely populated," said Master Windu. "Even in the confusion following Jabba's death, there was little chance any … indiscretion, wouldn't have been noticed. If it had been on a world with a more traditional population density …"

"Not to punish someone for what they might do, the Jedi way is," cut in Yoda, but the Grand Master still looked concerned. "Know the acolytes better than any of us, you do, Knight Vail. A history of violence against civilians, do any of them possess ?"

"No. It isn't that Cain wouldn't have accepted them in his service otherwise," that would have been much too suspicious, "but the ones he brought with him to Molech were all young, and spent their entire career under him. They all fled Korriban together when the Academy collapsed into civil war," Amberley explained. "I have no doubt they did things that would be considered crimes by the Republic back there, but, well. It was the Academy."

"I think we need more context for that statement, Knight Vail," said Plo Koon.

Right. This wasn't a Jedi Council that had spent decades fighting against the Sith Empire, with all the incredibly dangerous spying and infiltration business that had most definitely not existed officially. Anything they knew of Sith training methods came from ancient, half-forgotten legends, no doubt filtered through several layers of fear and rumors.

Unfortunately, in this case, Amberley had little doubt that the reality had been much worse than their imagination.

"Over the course of the Great Galactic Wars," she began, "there were several defectors from the Sith who joined the Jedi after rejecting the Dark Side for one reason or another." Not nearly as many as Jedi who had fallen, but the very nature of war favored the darkness, and the Emperor's habit of kidnapping and mind-raping Jedi who caught his interest into his puppets hadn't helped. "While returning to that period of their lives was painful for them, they gave us a lot of information about the ways in which the Empire trained its Sith to ensure they embraced the Dark Side before being selected by a Sith Lord as an apprentice to complete their training."

Amberley spent the next five minutes listing the methods employed by the Academy's 'teachers' to instill proper Sith behavior into their students. Slaves and random civilians brought in for the students to torture and execute, with the penalty being inflicted on the student if they refused or didn't show proper enthusiasm. Teachers spying on students, students spying on teachers, searching for the slightest hint of weakness. Draconian rules of behavior which were all subordinate to the cardinal principle of 'don't get caught', including the ones prohibiting straight-up murdering rivals.

All of that on a planet haunted by the ghosts of thousands of years' worth of tombs, all of which were being thrown open by what passed for the Empire's archaeology department in a race to find anything which might be of interest to their wealthy and sadistic patrons.

As she spoke, Amberley did her best not to think about how Ciaphas' own tutelage at the hands of Erebus had been worse than what she was describing. It really was a miracle he had come out of it as well-balanced as he had – one the entire galaxy should be thankful for. After meeting Darth Cain and seeing through his mask for the first time, she'd wondered why the Vile One had even kept him as an apprentice, given his character : it seemed unlikely someone of Darth Erebus' power wouldn't have seen through Ciaphas' pretences as well.

Then Ciaphas would do something insane, like talking back to the entire Dark Council and making it stick, or break the back of an entire invasion force single-handedly, or convince the insane daughter of the Sith Emperor to leave him alone, before giving up all her power and influence to become his apprentice. Then Amberley would be reminded of the most likely reason behind Erebus' choice. Oh, there was no doubt the Vile One had delighted in tormenting Ciaphas as well, but he must have seen Ciaphas' potential, and how great an instrument of evil he could become if successfully broken.

She took a deep breath as she finished her brief summary of the Korriban Academy's training regimen. Realizing she'd closed her eyes at some point, she opened them to find the Council staring at her, those of whom with human-adjacent biology pale-faced. Master Yoda felt like he was on the verge of breaking into tears, or perhaps commandeering a ship and going straight to Perlia to give hugs to every Sith acolyte, Amberley wasn't sure.

"This is the experience all of Cain's Sith acolytes went through before joining him," she concluded. "To put it bluntly, from what I've seen during my time with them, they're all traumatized to various degrees, and are coping with it more or less well."

A grim silence followed her words. If nothing else, she reflected, she had managed to remind the Council that Sith didn't come into existence straight out of the Dark Side, ready to laugh maniacally as they tortured a bunch of children with Force Lightning. They were people, and most of them had never had a choice in what they had become (not that it meant they weren't dangerous or shouldn't be fought, obviously, but rejecting the idea that one's enemies were sentient beings was a path guaranteed to lead to ruin sooner or later).

"Alright," Master Windu was the first to break the silence. "We understand your point, Knight Vail. I personally would prefer if every Darksider on Perlia and Tatooine came to the Temple to receive psychological help, but I understand why that might not be practical. However, we still need to keep a clear eye on the situation. While Darth Cain and his followers aren't as bad as the rest of the Sith, and most likely better than the Hutt Cartels, that's all from the perspective of the Order. The Republic might have a different opinion, and if the Republic decides to go to war against Cain, we will have no choice but to join, if only to minimize casualties."

Amberley frowned. That didn't sound right to her, but then, she had joined the Order in a time when the shadow of the Revanchist Mouvement still colored many people's perceptions of the Jedi Order. There had even been a few long-lived Jedi who had lived to remember it (very few, what with the near-complete extinction of the Order at the hands of the Sith Triumvirate in the years following Revan's redemption, his destruction of the Star Forge, and departure to the Unknown Regions).

Back then, the Jedi Order had outright forbidden its members from joining the war against the Mandalorians, and they'd done a lot worse than anything she could imagine Ciaphas doing. The Republic had asked for the Order's help in the war many times, only to be rebuffed at every turn, all while more and more atrocities were committed on the frontline of the war.

But, Amberley reminded herself, times had changed. In the wake of the New Sith Wars and the Ruusan Reformation, the Jedi Order had become much more tightly bound to the Republic. The idea of this Order departing Coruscant and resettling on Tython was much harder to imagine.

"I understand, Master Windu," she assured the dark-skinned Human. "I am certain Darth Cain is aware of how delicately balanced the whole situation is, and will do all he can not to upset the equilibrium."

---

Sitting alone in my office, nursing a cup of caf in my left hand (perfectly prepared to my tastes by JURG-N, as always – I didn't know what I'd done to deserve him), I looked at the galactic map in front of me and tried to decide which world to invade – sorry, 'liberate' – next.

Now that Vaylin had returned to Perlia with most of the forces I'd sent to Tatooine with her, I needed to do something to show that I was taking this whole war against slavery she'd started in my name seriously. As tempting as the idea of merely staying on Perlia and enjoying the perks of being its planetary sovereign, I knew that would be seen as showing weakness, and would get me killed in the long run, either by the Hutts or my own people.

Obviously, if I absolutely had to go to war, I'd much rather wait until the Invincible's hyperdrive repairs were complete, because few things made going into battle less worrying than having a ten-kilometers long battleship on your side (not not worrying, of course, because only a suicidal moron would be unworried about being in a situation where a lot of people tried to kill you).

But I had read through the latest reports from the engineers carefully, and it was clear that simply wasn't a viable option. Even with the spare parts brought back from Tatooine, their best estimate was that it would take months before my flagship could enter hyperspace again, and that was with cutting the safety checks and tests far more than I was comfortable with (especially given the origin of these parts).

However, the lunatics I was saddled with would grow bored long before then, and the prospect of being on the same planet as a bunch of bored Sith while being nominally in charge was marginally more terrifying than charging headlong into Hutt Space in my underpants. So, much as it galled me, I needed to find a new target for the warmongers who looked up to me, one which could be taken without having what seemed to be, at least for now, the mightiest warship in the galaxy with me. And since Vaylin had been the one who had led the campaign on Tatooine, I needed to lead the next one in person, lest they start thinking I was losing my touch and getting complacent. My undeserved reputation was a very useful tool, but it required maintenance.

Of course, that didn't mean I couldn't be smart about how to approach the issue. I could use the excuse that, with two worlds needing protection, only a limited number of seized ships could be spared to strike at another world, meaning we needed to choose the target carefully. A typical Sith Lord might have thrown themself at the most heavily fortified enemy stronghold and trust in the power of the Dark Side to carry them to victory, but in my experience, such individuals didn't tend to live long past their initial successes, and I hadn't survived through three Galactic Wars and far more assassination attempts than I was comfortable remembering to get killed by the karking Hutts.

I looked again at the holographic map of the Outer Rim gently rotating in the air before me, my eyes moving up and down the highlighted hyperlanes of the nearby Sectors. There were far too many possible choices to check them all properly, not without spending more time than I felt comfortable on the matter, so I drew on the Force for guidance.

I wasn't anywhere close to the oracle my late and unlamented Master had been, and I wasn't going to reproduce the methods he had used to boost his predictive powers (basic decency aside, the Jedi Council would hunt me down in a heartbeat if I went down that road – and, more worryingly, Amberley would definitely break up with me in a most violent fashion).

But I could still use meditation to guide my actions. Slowly, I sank into a half-conscious, half-asleep state, my eyes moving across lists of names, until – there.

Savareen. A system only a single, short hyperspace jump away from Tatooine, which would keep our sphere of influence close together.

With the press of a button, I brought up the available information on the system. One inhabitable planet, mostly desert, with the latest census data available showing a population slightly larger than Tatooine's, despite not being so advantageously placed on the hyperlanes. And, based on the intel the spooks had been compiling since our arrival in this era, the planet had spent the last hundred years under the control of one criminal group or another, with no formal Republic presence in over a millennia. Its latest overlords were the Ravagers, a gang of bloodthirsty maniacs loosely affiliated to the Hutt Cartels, who kept a large slave population in various mines and other industries.

Also, according to a brief Holonet search, the planet was famous for its brandy, with connoisseurs of alcoholic beverages over the entire galaxy purchasing it, even if it meant having to deal with whatever group of criminals was currently in charge. That was convenient, because I was certain that, even if everything went perfectly, I would need a strong drink by the time this new campaign was over.

With a chuckle at my own jest, I began pulling every bit of data available on the system to my display, while thinking about how to present this in a way that my subordinates would accept – and which wouldn't make the Republic panic about the returned remnant of the Sith Empire expanding even further. I felt relatively confident I could convince the Republican emissaries that this wasn't an escalation they needed to worry about too much – it wasn't as if Savareen was really important, after all.

Had I known what awaited me on that planet, however, I would have chosen a more reasonable target – like, say, Nal Hutta.

---

Marlo the Hutt smiled as he read through the latest report his people had compiled for him, displayed on a holo-screen hovering in front of him as he laid spread out on his couch, surrounded by comfortable cushions.

Everything was going well. Now that he had convinced the other members of the Hutt Council to let him deal with Cain, letting him shoulder all the risks and costs in exchange for taking the greater share of Jabba's territory once the Sith Lord was defeated and business returned to normal, things were progressing well.

He was still in the process of gathering his forces, sending messages to the various gangs which paid him tribute and envoys to mercenary groups with which he'd done business in the past. But judging by the numbers he was seeing, it wouldn't take much longer for the first phase to be ready : already, several scores of warships were gathered, carrying thousands of some of the Outer Rim's most experienced killers. Discipline was an issue, but the bounty hunter he'd hired to serve as his enforcer in the fleet, Durge, was well worth the exorbitant price he'd asked for.

More importantly, Marlo had recently received confirmation of what he'd long suspected : the Invincible's hyperdrive had been destroyed by its trip through time, leaving the vessel stranded in Perlia. The information had come from a Human petty thief named Hanar, who had somehow managed to get her hands on extracts from the communications between Coruscant and the Republican envoys to Darth Cain.

According to Marlo's sources, Hanar had been active for a few years, stealing valuables from rich people in the Core and Mid-Rim, all while carefully avoiding doing anything which might get her on the Cartels' bad side. That meant she was smart, and unlikely to lie to Marlo. Of course, the Hutt had still ordered the recordings she'd passed on to be checked by his best slicers to ensure they weren't fabrications. It'd taken a few days, but all of them were in agreement : while the data didn't contain the whole of the discussion between the Jedi Council, the Supreme Chancellor and the Republican envoys, it wasn't a fake, nor had it been stitched together to present false information.

Marlo was curious how someone like Hanar had managed to acquire such information. A thief like her was unlikely to have sources at the very heart of the Republic : even if she knew some low-lives on Coruscant, that couldn't be enough to spy on the Supreme Chancellor. His best guess was that someone else was using her to pass the information to him while staying anonymous – likely someone who disliked Darth Cain and wanted him humbled for their own reasons.

The Hutt crime lord chuckled at the thought that he might be receiving assistance from some firebrand Republican, willing to perform what amounted to treason in order to ensure the resurgent threat of the Sith was dealt with. Once again, the Hutts' long-running strategy of never being the greatest threat to the dominant galactic powers had paid off.

For the time being, the Invincible was confined to Cain's new (or old, depending on how you thought about it) throneworld. That was excellent news : at the moment, the fleet Marlo was gathering couldn't face the superdreadnought with any guarantee of victory. Based on the intelligence recovered from the pirate ships which had fled the slaughter of Varan's armada, Marlo's space warfare experts (who ran the gamut from disgraced military officers to pirate lords in their own right) were in agreement that they couldn't face the Sith flagship without heavy casualties.

Destroying the Sith flagship might be possible if they were ready to sacrifice every ship available in a mass suicide attack, but the odds of successfully pulling that off were very low – even someone with Marlo's reputation and resources couldn't openly send people to their death without mutiny becoming inevitable.

Admittedly, getting the experts to admit that had been a chore, but Marlo had managed to convince them they had more to lose by lying to him about their chances of success than by giving him bad news. Sometimes – not often, but sometimes – the Hutt regretted some aspects of the reputation his race had cultivated across the galaxy.

And so, regardless of how this irked Marlo, Perlia would be spared his wrath for now. Instead, Tatooine would pay the price of defying the Cartels. Its new 'independent government' would be crushed, and the entire population either enslaved or slaughtered, with the raiders allowed to rampage as they pleased. It would show the rest of the Outer Rim the cost of challenging the Hutts, and prove that Cain couldn't protect those he claimed to want to save. With that, Marlo's own influence would grow, and more would rally to his banner, until he'd enough forces at his disposal to challenge the Invincible itself and end the threat of Darth Cain once and for all.

Of course, Cain would be prepared for an attack on Tatooine. The journals of Marlo's forebears were clear on the fact that the Lord of Terror was a more than competent strategist, who rarely needed to return to the worlds he'd conquered because he always made sure to leave strong foundations behind. His apprentice was a different story (under the so-called Eternal Empire, Vaylin had left a trail of devastation in her wake wherever she went), but prudence demanded Marlo assume the Sith soldiers who had helped her taking over Tatooine knew what they were doing.

His attempts to get intel on the desert planet's situation hadn't borne much fruit. The locals were well-used to the Cartels' tricks, and they were very suspicious of any off-worlders who journeyed beyond the spaceports' immediate surroundings. Between that and the Sith still present on the planet, he'd lost about a dozen operatives, and those who'd survived didn't have much to tell. About the only important piece of information they'd managed to provide was that the former (and future, if Marlo had anything to say about it, which he always did) slaves were working to repair and refit a whole bunch of ships they'd dredged out of the junk yards to build their own navy.

Marlo didn't think they would manage to get anything really dangerous up in the void, but he also couldn't afford to underestimate them : a defeat against an enemy who didn't have the Invincible, even a minor one, would do enormous damage to his credibility.

So he needed to make sure that the force he gathered was powerful enough to overwhelm whatever defenses had been built around Tatooine before striking. Which was why he was pouring a lot of his accumulated wealth into building up the fleet mustering at Savareen, close to Tatooine. Despite owning a number of casinos and gambling rings, Marlo himself didn't believe in making gambles : when he made a move, he always made sure the odds were rigged in his favor as much as possible beforehand.

Notes:

AN : And with that, you now know where the next arc of this story will take place.

Yes, I know, I said I was going to finish AYGWM before returning to this story. What can I say, the Muse is capricious.

Amberley's POV went a bit dark on me there. I blame Erebus, which as any Warhammer fan will know, is always a reasonable course of action in any story he is involved with, regardless of setting. Also, while writing this chapter, I realized there's no way someone like Marlo wouldn't realize Hanar was being used as someone's proxy - this isn't exactly his first rodeo, after all.

As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to what you think will happen on Savareen, and how much brandy Cain will need to get through it.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 7: Terror

The bridge of the Hutta's Magnificence was a mess, but a functioning one. It belonged to Marlo the Hutt's personal fleet, usually tasked with defending the crime lord's holdings in Hutt Space. Its captain was one of Marlo's distant relatives, a typically fat exemplar of the species named Grice.

In Durge's opinion, Grice owned his captaincy to his blood relation to Marlo rather than any actual skill at the job. But the Hutt was still possessed of a certain low cunning, which was probably why he'd survived the cesspit politics of Nal Hutta in the first place. More importantly, he knew just enough about running a ship to make sure to surround himself with subordinates who could actually do the job reasonably well while he watched and occasionally gave orders in Huttese – it was one of the Hutts' many affectations to very rarely lower themselves to speaking Galactic Standard, even though they all understood it perfectly well.

Of course, Durge's presence on the bridge ensured everyone was even more motivated to do their job properly than usual. As a general rule, people tended to do that when a hulking giant covered in armor and with a veritable arsenal of weapons hanging from his body stood near them, looming menacingly.

The main display of the bridge showed the ships gathered around Savareen. There were already more than a hundred of them, of various shapes and sizes, carrying tens of thousands of bloodthirsty raiders. Yet despite the size of the fleet, Durge knew very well that this wasn't the full strength of the Cartels. Far from it, in fact : it wasn't even the full might of the portion of the Cartels directly under Marlo's control. In addition to still keeping forces in reserve to protect his interests elsewhere, Marlo was still working on reactivating some of the mothballed fleets he'd inherited from his forebears in Hutt space in preparation for dealing with the Invincible.

Apart from the Hutta's Magnificence, the ships gathered at Savareen were mercenaries and pirates, drawn to the system by the promise of Hutt credits and opportunities for plunder. They were undisciplined, but they were plentiful and, most importantly of all, they were cheap and disposable.

Durge was no military commander, but the fleet mustering at Savareen didn't need a commander : it needed an enforcer, someone people were too scared of to start trouble. And that was a role the bounty hunter was more than qualified for.

Bounty hunting in the Outer Rim was a dangerous, cut-throat business. Few survived the lifestyle for long, inevitably ending up killed by a target or double-crossed by a client. But not Durge, oh no. He was far too hardy for that.

For Durge was a Gen'Dai, one of the few members of that species still alive. He had survived things most sentients couldn't imagine, had fought for and against every side of the New Sith Wars, had even killed the Mandalore of a few centuries back.

That was part of the reason why he'd accepted the offer of Marlo's recruiter when it had arrived. Durge had waited a thousand years for a chance to avenge himself on the Sith, and until very recently, he'd thought the opportunity was gone – there were rumors of Sith activity in the dark places of the galaxy, but nothing concrete.

And then the Invincible had arrived, carrying a whole bunch of Sith. Darth Cain may not be related to the Darksiders who had imprisoned and tortured the Gen'Dai bounty hunter a thousand years ago, but Durge cared little about that : a debt of pain and blood was owed, and it would be repaid. But Durge knew that even he couldn't take on a whole army by himself, so joining the Hutts' forces was his best bet.

And besides, Marlo's pay for this job was really good. The Hutt knew what Durge was worth, and was clearly willing to throw as much money at this particular problem as it took. Durge wondered how much of that was because of the prestige defeating Cain would gain him, and how much was out of genuine fear of one day sharing Jabba's fate if the Sith Lord wasn't stopped in his tracks.

In the end, Durge didn't really care. His job was to help Grice keep the more hot-headed elements of the fleet in line, and when the campaign actually started, to hunt down any Sith left on Tatooine and kill them in as gruesome a fashion as possible. He'd needed to make a few exemples when he'd first arrived, but these, combined with his reputation, had been enough to calm everyone and even get a few of the warbands to start training seriously.

Truth be told, he was starting to get bored. Maybe he should do a 'surprise inspection' in one of the fighting pits, get his hands dirty again, just to keep the grunts from getting complacent.

"New ships are arriving from hyperspace," called out an officer, drawing Durge out of his bloody fantasies.

"More reinforcements ?" asked Grice's first officer, a Zabrak with more scars on his head than horns. "Did we have any new arrivals planned for today ?"

"Nothing on the agenda," answered someone else. "The next ones are a bunch of Trandoshan hunters who aren't due for another two days, galactic standard."

That was strange, but not unheard of with this lot. For all of Marlo's efforts to keep the muster confidential, word had still inevitably spread across the underworld. Their policy was that if a crew was resourceful enough to find them without being officially invited, then they deserved to be added to the fleet once a proper contract was negotiated by one of Grice's stable of protocol droids.

Still, Durge might have to intervene at some point, so he looked up at the screens and waited. A few seconds later, the ships emerged from hyperspace – not in the loose formation typical of the raider warbands of the Outer Rim, but aligned with the kind of military precision Durge had only witnessed a handful of times in his long, long life.

There was a moment of silence as data poured in from the scanners, then someone spoke up in a voice trembling with mixed surprise and fear :

"That … that's the Dread Son among them," said the Human. "Varan's personal ship before he got offed, and the one who led the Sith forces on Tatooine."

The Sith had found them. Had someone talked, revealing the muster's position to them ? Possible. But as Durge looked at the data still coming in, he realized two things : first, the Sith fleet was massively outnumbered by the mercenary armada, and secondly, the Invincible was nowhere to be seen. It seemed Marlo's intel that the superdreadnought's hyperdrive was still under repair was correct after all.

Durge would never admit it aloud, but part of him was relieved the Sith flagship wasn't here. He was strong and hard to kill, but everyone had limits, and the Invincible definitely was past his.

"I want to talk to them," Durge growled at the closest comms officer. "Open a link."

The terrified Ithorian leaned away from the bounty hunter and glanced toward Grice, but the Hutt was too busy staring at the screens slaw-jacked to care. Durge growled menacingly, and the Ithorian jumped in fright before starting to press keys on his console.

Under his full helmet, Durge smiled. This job was starting to get interesting.

---

Once again, I was presented with incontrovertible evidence that the Force had it out for me.

I had been on the bridge of the Dread Son when it, along with the rest of what could be called a fleet if you were very generous, dropped out of hyperspace. Everyone expected me to be there, and if there was any danger, I wanted to be in a position to see it and do something about it.

JURG-N was with me, as were Commanders Sulla and Broklaw. I'd almost managed to leave the Mandalorians on Perlia by telling Sulla she could stay with her new paramour if she wanted (how Trevellyan and her had ended up as a couple, I had no idea and didn't want to know), but she'd assured me her honor demanded she join me to Savareen, even if we didn't expect much resistance.

On balance, having to deal with her and her warband was marginally worth it for the added firepower, so I had resigned myself to dealing with her habit of charging straight at the enemy and trust in her beskar armor and (admittedly very impressive for a non-Force sensitive) martial prowess to see her through. The fact that her warband absolutely loved her for it was, in my eyes, a clear sign that the Mandalorian Clans had always been destined for an alliance with the Sith Empire.

I would soon have reason to be very grateful for her presence, but I didn't know that at the time.

Proximity alarms began to blare the moment we emerged from hyperspace, and as our scanners came back online, we immediately saw why.

Scores of vessels hung in the void around Savareen, many of which were promptly identified as belonging to one gang or another using the archives our spooks had cobbled together.

The Dread Son and its escorts had emerged from hyperspace deep into the system. We were surrounded on all sides. The only reason we hadn't yet been blasted to pieces was that the criminals were as surprised as we were by the whole thing, and clearly had no idea how to respond. Which, the part of me that never stopped looking for advantages pointed out, indicated a lack of a proper chain of command, only to be expected from what I must assume was some kind of mercenary force the Cartels were mustering in order to strike at me. And this wasn't an ambush, so the precautions I had taken to keep my departure and destination secret as long as possible appeared to have worked.

Furthermore, I noted as I took a closer look at the sensors, terrifying as this fleet was to me at the moment, there was no way it could possibly defeat the Invincible, unless Kasteen and a solid half of the crew all got drunk or fell deadly ill simultaneously. And, since the latter had already occurred once due to a rival Sith Lord's plot, there were measures in place to prevent it from happening again.

Before I could use reminiscing about the bad old days as an escape from my current problems, however, Broklaw turned toward me, eyes wide.

"Did you know about this, my lord ?" he asked.

I knew what it meant : had I known about this gathering of vessels, and brought our flotilla here as part of some equally deranged and genius scheme ?

The answer was simple : no, I karking had not. If I had known about this, I wouldn't have come anywhere near this system with so few vessels. But I couldn't say it out loud : it would damage morale, and I needed everyone at their best if I was to have any chance of surviving this deathtrap.

So, I simply smiled, and forced my growing panic into the Force. Let them come to whatever conclusions they wished – even a false belief that I knew what I was doing could be useful if it kept them fighting rather than giving up.

To my dismay, Sulla started chuckling.

"We're being hailed," reported Captain Durant before Broklaw or anyone else could question me further.

Durant had been an officer on the Invincible for several years before being given command of the Dread Son when I'd sent Vaylin off to Tatooine. He had been born a Human, but was now a Cyborg, with numerous implants having been required to keep him alive after having come to the very edge of death in the course of his duties. There had been many such individuals in the Sith Empire : it had been one of the Empire's many contradictions that the lives of some of its people were considered valuable enough to spend a lot of resources on cybernetics to keep them alive, while simultaneously being willing to throw thousands of lives away on pointless endeavours whenever a Sith Lord got another 'brilliant idea'.

The fact Durant had managed to rise through the ranks on the Invincible when Kasteen was notoriously disturbed by their presence (she had never admitted it in my presence, but I could read her unease easily enough) was a testament to his skills. Another silver lining : as always, I was surrounded by people who knew their job. Unfortunately, they all assumed the same was true of me.

"Accept the link," I ordered, seizing the distraction, and was soon presented with the projected image of a hulking humanoid wearing a suit of armor that completely covered it from head to toe.

It was quite the intimidating sight. While most sentient species in the galaxy followed the humanoid pattern, the laws of biology imposed hard limitations of maximum size, and this being was just slightly over them. Their armor covered them completely, masking their species entirely – or so it would have been for anyone else.

It was subtle, but there were hints in the body language – the impossibly fluid movements, the way the armor didn't move quite right – that let me know what kind of being I was facing, and my stomach dropped.

"I see the Gen'Dai have survived to the current era," I said mildly. "How fortunate."

It was absolutely not fortunate as far as I was concerned. I had nothing against the Gen'Dai as a species, obviously : they had been a tranquil, pacifist race fine with living quietly on their homeworld and researching philosophy with the kind of serenity only attainable when you were almost unkillable … until the Empire had bombed it to ruins and driven them to the brink of extinction, turning the small diaspora of survivors into ferocious anti-Imperial warriors who also happened to be incredibly strong and hard to kill.

"Cain," said the Gen'Dai, the word positively dripping with threat. But I was all too used to conversing with people who wanted my death, and far too many of them had been much more dangerous than even this admittedly impressive specimen, so I didn't let any of my fear show.

"That is my name, yes," I replied. "But I'm afraid you've me at a disadvantage. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking ?"

"I am Durge," he said, and I thought he sounded slightly taken aback by my politeness (which was a frequent reaction, and one of the reasons I kept doing it, the other being that sometimes, just sometimes, diplomacy actually worked to avoid fights). "I do not know who betrayed our position to you, but if you think this pitiful fleet you've gathered will be enough, then you are as mad as every Sith I've ever met."

"Oh ?" I raised an eyebrow at that. "And how many Sith have you met, exactly ? I know your people are long-lived, but not that long-lived."

"I killed many of your kind during the New Sith Wars," Durge boasted. "They thought themselves invincible, each and everyone of them – but they died all the same."

I had to give it to Durge : that did sound like the Sith I was familiar with. But I couldn't exactly admit it, not with everyone else on the Dread Son's bridge not-so-discreetly listening in on the conversation.

"Interesting," I replied, maintaining my facade of calm and leaning back in my seat. "But I assure you : you have never met a Sith like me."

He let out an approximation of a laugh that filled me with terror.

"They all said that, too. But for all your tricks, you're only human. We'll see how well you manage once your ship has been blown to pieces and you drift in the void !"

The connection went dead, cut off on the other end, leaving me with Broklaw and Sulla staring at me.

"Well, that was interesting," I said with a forced smile, as if I was amused by Durge's threats (which, to be honest, didn't rank very high when compared to all the others I had received over the course of my life, but that didn't make the Gen'Dai any less terrifying). "Before anything else, though, open a line to Perlia, please."

Within second, we had a link to the Invincible, Kasteen's projection appearing before me. The connection was spotty : the image was flickering, and I couldn't hear anything she said. According to Durant's subordinates, the pirates were using some kind of system-wide jammer, which was no doubt why Malden and his associates hadn't heard anything about this muster.

"This is Darth Cain," I said, hoping that the Invincible's systems would be able to parse my meaning through the distortion. "We have found numerous Hutt ships found in Savareen. I believe their intended target was Tatooine : reinforce the system with everything we have. May the Force serve you well."

With that, I signalled to cut off the link. I wanted to ask for help, but there was no point. Vaylin would come the moment she heard about what was going on, of that I had no doubt, but with the Invincible's hyperdrive disabled, there was little she could actually do.

So I might as well warn them of the threat to Tatooine. If I made it out, that show of concern could only improve my reputation with the Republic, and if I didn't, then none of this mess would be my problem any longer. Not that I intended to go down easily, of course.

"We cannot face this fleet head-on with our available ships," I declared, which was nothing less than the truth. Still, better to take that course off the table as soon as possible, just in case.

What we could, and should by all rights do, was try to escape. If we started moving right now, our superior discipline should let us concentrate our firepower to punch through the still disorganised pirates and go to hyperspace. Some of our ships may be lost in the process, but the Dread Son had been Varan's flagship for a reason, so at least I should make it out alive.

But running away would do irreparable harm to my fraudulent reputation for fearlessly facing danger, and I was marginally more scared of the lunatics under my command than of the mercenary horde in front of me. So that option was taken off the table until there was absolutely no other choice.

And there had to be another choice, I refused to believe otherwise. As I considered the situation, my heart pumped adrenaline through my veins : between that and me using my connection to the Force to conceal the fear I felt, time appeared to slow down, in a way I was all too familiar with.

Our greatest advantage at the moment was that, despite outnumbering us more than twenty to one, the pirate ships weren't a real fleet. This was a gathering of warbands, drawn together by the promise of plunder and the Cartels' favor. None of the captains trusted one another, a state of affairs I was all too familiar with. Although the Sith Navy, at least, had been disciplined enough that various battlegroups could work together against a common enemy … most of the time … when there wasn't more than one Sith Lord present …

… really, I thought, not for the first time and certainly not the last, it was a miracle the Empire had lasted as long as it had.

In any case, that didn't mean we could win, or even achieve victory in detail by fighting each warband alone. But it did mean we had a brief window of time in which we could act to change the situation in our favor. My gaze fell upon the slowly rotating orb of Savareen itself, and immediately, I realized what I had to do if I wanted to have any chance of making through this alive and with my undeserved reputation intact.

"Since we cannot win the battle in the void, we won't fight in the void," I declared, and everyone looked at me like I'd said something profound instead of making a self-evident observation. "Take us closer to Savareen, Captain Durant. We will land on the planet and fight them on the ground. Find us somewhere on this world away from any civilization where we can land, and ready the crews for complete evacuation."

Sure, we would still be massively outnumbered, but we would be able to leverage our advantages a lot more effectively, and I would bet on the forces of the Sith Empire against the mercenaries and pirates of the Outer Rim any day. I could feel my subconscious already drafting vague plans, ready to push them to the front of my mind when they were needed. I had fought in void battles before, but my expertise laid more in planetside engagements, where at least I could use my lightsaber to fight back against whoever was trying to kill me – whereas there was no chance of me being able to deflect a spaceship's turbolaser burst with my blade. Maybe the Wrath or the Hero of Tython could have managed it, but I wasn't anywhere close to these monsters.

"My lord," said Durant respectfully (and by that I mean actually respectfully, not the kind of respectfully which secretly translates to 'you karking lunatic'), "the enemy ships are certain to intercept us if we do this."

"No, they will not," I replied. "I shall make sure of it."

There was a pause, then the man's eyes widened in understanding, and he bowed deeply.

"I see. Forgive my impertinence, my Lord. It shall be done as you command."

"I have no doubt of that," I said, waving off his apology before turning to the two other officers on the bridge. "Commander Broklaw, prepare our forces for rapid disembarkation, and the ships for complete evacuation. Sulla, get your warband ready for action : whatever surprises they've been preparing during transit, we're going to need them. I will be in my quarters, opening us a path."

They all saluted, each in a different way – the Imperial Army, Navy and Mandalorians all had different salutes, which was a pain in the backside to keep track of to avoid offending someone unintentionally. Fortunately, as a Sith Lord, I wasn't expected to salute anybody, and the forms of obeisance to my superiors were a lot more direct (there were only so many ways you could kneel, after all, though grovelling was a much more elaborate art).

With that, I stood up and walked out of the bridge, JURG-N faithfully following at my heels, leaving behind me a crew convinced I was going to save the day once again. And, damn it all, but I actually was going to, at least in the short term. But that didn't mean I would enjoy it : this was going to be unpleasant, and it wouldn't help my reputation with the Republic, but it should work, and a clear and current threat to my life had to take priority over possible future trouble.

It had been some time since I'd last done what I was about to do, but there were things you never lost the knack for. Riding a speeder, discreetly testing a drink for poison, or drawing on the power of the Force to spread your own terror to thousands of crew members on enemy ships; that sort of things.

Weirdly, however, the main thought in my mind was that Amberley was going to be really cross with me.

---

It started with a cold feeling down Goran Barloe's back. The Spike, Goran's ship, was moving toward the Sith flotilla along with a bunch of others, ready to add their firepower to the storm of death which would teach the bastards not to mess with the Hutts.

Goran's first instinct was to check the climate controls. The Spike wasn't a young ship : Goran had taken it from his predecessor when he'd killed him, and he had won it at a game of sabbac, and so on for who knew how long. With all the expenses that came with running a mercenary band, there was never enough money for proper repairs, so the air conditioning suddenly going overdrive wasn't exactly uncommon. But the screen told him everything was normal, even as the mercenary captain started to actually shiver inside his armor.

"What in the Corellian Hells is going on ?" he muttered, starting to feel nervous. He hadn't drunk that much last night, and the hangover had been gone by the time he'd gotten back to the bridge.

Suddenly, he remembered the stories that had been circulating in the fleet, telling of the bizarre, dark sorceries the Sith were capable of. Even a thousand years after the end of the New Sith Wars, there were still legends of the Darksiders' deeds going around. Goran had thought them to be nothing more than stories, tall tales passed along from the survivors of the wars looking to score free drinks in bars, but now he wasn't so sure.

"What's that ?!" shouted Terry, a big, hulking Human whom Goran had seen skin Wookies alive without flinching, but who now sounded like a little girl. He was staring at nothing in particular, trembling hands reaching for the weapons at his waist – a gun and mace that could do a lot of damage to the bridge's fragil equipment, especially when thrown around by someone with Terry's muscles.

Goran was about to shout at the brute (what exactly, he didn't know) when suddenly, the lights of the bridge dimmed, as if there'd been a power outage – except the emergency lights should have turned on then, and they hadn't.

The shadows grew, filling the bridge, and then came alive all around him. Vile, shapeless things rose up and fell upon the crew, whose screams of horror and pain soon covered the alarm noises of the consoles. Terry himself gave a terrified shriek before disappearing under the weight of three of the shadow beasts, but Goran had no time to think about his companion's or his ship's predicament, too busy with his own.

Before Goran's eyes, the floor in front of him parted, thick metal plates torn apart by the claws of some large abomination as it pushed its way through. To Goran's panic-stricken mind, the horror looked like an amalgamation of every sentient he had ever killed in service of his greed, and the mercenary captain had killed a lot of people during his career indeed.

It stared at Goran as it climbed out of the hold it had made, its dozens of mismatched eyes glowing with malevolent glee. Then it smiled at the mercenary captain, displaying all manner of teeth which had no right to be together in any singular jaw, and reached out toward him with a limb that was at once scaled, covered in fur, bare, armored and clad in several kinds of clothes.

Too scared to try to make sense of what his eyes were telling him, Goran drew his blaster and fired wildly at the monster, but the shots had no visible effect on it, and it laughed with a voice straight out of nightmares. Goran screamed then, all rational thought deserting him.

So lost to fear was the mercenary captain, he didn't see his final shot nail the Spike's pilot in the back of the skull, killing him instantly. But even if he had, he wouldn't have been able to do anything to prevent the ensuing catastrophe, too busy screaming and flailing at the empty air, just like the rest of the bridge crew.

With its pilot dead and no one able to change course, the Spike continued on its last heading, which now intersected with that of the Tail of Garruk, another mercenary ship which had also started drifting for much the same reason, with the difference that when its pilot had run away from his post and knocked himself unconscious against the nearest bulkhead, he had accidentally knocked over the controls and sent the ship careening off on a new trajectory.

Nine minutes later, the two ships collided, escape pods rushing out of both as those few crew members who had managed to keep their wits fled the incoming explosion. Amidst the anarchy that had descended upon the Hutt fleet, however, the collision went almost unremarked.

---

Standing in the Dread Son's cargo bay with the rest of the Sith acolytes, ready to disembark the moment the ship touched the ground, Iskandar Khayon was in awe.

He could feel what Darth Cain was doing – even the non-Force sensitives could, in a limited fashion. From within his sanctum, the Lord of Terror was wielding the full extent of his great power, using fear as a weapon to break the coordination of the pirate fleet, reducing the great pack of predators into a herd of panicked prey animals.

Under the Sith Lord's sorcerous display, the pureblood could feel the terror and confusion of the Hutt pawns. Some of them had, perhaps, encountered Jedi before : the Knights of the Republic might have a weaker presence in the Outer Rim than in the Core, but they were still present. And perhaps the mercenaries had thought, like so many others before them, that Jedi and Sith were more or less the same, just with differently colored lightsabers and a more pragmatic code of ethics.

Now they learned the depth of their mistake. Iskandar could feel their terror echoing through the Force, even as he listened in on reports of their fleet disintegrating through his earpiece. Some ships had completely gone dark, their crew succumbing to the terror-induced insanity and turning on each other, but they were relatively few. And, with the sheer distances involved in any kind of space battle, only two of them had collided as a result, the rest simply drifting in the cold void.

Far more commonly, the ships turned back and fled, desperate to put as much distance as possible between themselves and what they instinctively recognized as the source of the sudden, inexplicable dread which had seized their hearts (or whatever equivalent organ they had for those with a more exotic biology) and was telling them that their death had come, there was nothing they could do to fight it, and fleeing was their only chance of survival.

This was power in par with the legendary Dread Masters, yet unmarred by the madness that had caused them to turn against the Empire following their liberation from the Republic's prisons. Unlike what these ancient Sith had been capable of, the effect wouldn't last, for the Lord of Terror was alone where the Dread Masters had worked in concert to inflict madness upon their victims. But even once the supernatural dread faded away, Iskandar expected it would take a lot of convincing by whoever was in charge to get them to go back into the fight.

When Darth Cain was aboard the Invincible, that power was enough to create openings the superdreadnought could use to utterly crush their foes. The combination of the ship's power and that of its master was something none had ever managed to defeat. This time, however, the Invincible wasn't here. Without its firepower added to the equation, the numbers were clear : their flotilla might be able to inflict disproportionate damage on the Hutt armada before the Lord of Terror's spell dissipated, but not enough to significantly affect their odds of ultimate victory.

In this situation, the logical move would have been to retreat while the Hutt forces were distracted by Darth Cain's sorcery : to take the flotilla back to Tatooine, or even Perlia itself. There, they could have regrouped, while their enemies were left quaking in their boots at the mere thought of crossing the Lord of Terror and feeling his power again.

It was what Iskandar would have done, and he felt no shame in it : merely learning where the Hutts were gathering their forces to strike back at the Sith was a strategic victory. But that was why he still had a long way to go before being Darth Cain's equal. Where everyone else had seen a trap they'd stumbled into and needed to escape while they could, the Lord of Terror had instead seen an opportunity.

They had come to free Savareen from the Cartels, and they wouldn't leave until that mission was accomplished, regardless of the forces arrayed against them. Nobody had really been surprised when Darth Cain had given the order to prepare to land on the planet while he handled the enemy fleet himself : they had merely been reminded that Darth Cain did not retreat from any challenge.

It was how the Sith Lord had carved his legend in what had become the distant past, and now, they were going to write another chapter of it in the sands of Savareen with the blood of their enemies. Since the Invincible's return, the galaxy had only seen Darth Cain with the overwhelming power of his flagship behind him, and Lady Vaylin's liberation of Tatooine had been the result of careful planning against an overconfident foe. Now, they would learn that the Lord of Terror was never more dangerous than in battle against odds anyone else would consider impossible.

And it would all happen because Darth Cain himself had chosen Savareen as their next target. Truly, Iskandar reflected, the Force served the Lord of Terror well.

A soldier walked between the ranks, distributing kits to everyone, trooper and acolyte. When he got to Iskandar and the pureblood asked what this was about, he shrugged and said :

"Darth Cain's orders, sir. Everyone needs to have a survival kit before we land."

Iskandar accepted the package, as did Nefertari next to him. He checked its contents : it was standard stuff, with a rebreather, some rations, water and basic medicines and bandages, of the kind the Empire had produced untold billions during its wars with the Republic.

Iskandar felt a pang of sadness at the sudden realization that these must have come straight from the Invincible's stocks, and that even as Perlia and any other world which fell under the Lord of Terror's aegis began military production, no more truly like it would ever be made. It was a small thing, but surprisingly distressing.

Telling himself that he was being overly sentimental, he took a deep breath as he attached the kit to his belt. The cargo bay was full of the smells of machinery and sweat. It was the smell of war, holding its breath in the moments before battle was joined. Through it, he caught the familiar scent of his Twi'lek companion.

Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out and squeezed her hand, which completely disappeared inside his much larger hand. He didn't need to look in her direction to feel Nefertari's glare, but she didn't pull her hand free either.

"We're entering the atmosphere," said the captain's voice over the speakers. "Everyone, hold on to something : this is going to be rough."

Iskandar didn't know Captain Durant personally, but he served under Darth Cain, and thus could be assumed to know his job. If he was telling them the descent would be rough, then it would have been suicidal for any other shipmaster.

Gritting his teeth, Iskandar prepared himself. This wasn't his first hot drop, but those things never got any less unpleasant.

"At least we'll have plenty of people to kill once we get down," he heard Nefertari say, her smile audible in her voice.

"True," the pureblood replied, finding himself smiling in turn.

The defense of Perlia had been a slaughter that had ended before it had properly begun, and the liberation of Tatooine had been a well-planned, well-executed operation where everything had unfolded according to plan. But this ? This was going to be a proper battle, fit to make the galaxy remember who the Sith truly were.

Darth Cain had already shown what he was capable of. Soon, Iskandar and the other acolytes would have a chance to do the same – as would the Sith troopers and their Mandalorian allies.

The pureblood almost felt sorry for the Hutt mercenaries. Almost.

Notes:

AN : Since I began writing this story, a question that has come up in the comments, again and again, is "How powerful is Darth Cain, really ?".

Now, we see the first display of the Lord of Terror's might, and learn that not without reason did Darth Erebus choose him as one of his apprentices.

That being said, this isn't as overpowered as it might look. Spreading his aura of terror across such vast distances is very tiring, and as Iskandar noted, it isn't permanent either. But it is a very useful trump card, and you can well imagine how the modern galaxy will react to something which was only of passing interest back in the Old Republic.

And we see, too, how Cain has trapped himself with his own reputation, in typical Cain fashion.

This chapter was shorter than the previous ones, because the Savareen arc will cover multiple chapters, so pacing demands I cut things up differently. Hopefully this will mean more frequent updates, but, well, we'll see.

As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 8: Shockwaves

The atmosphere in the ancient Sith Temple of Perlia was tense. Commodore Kasteen was present through holo, while Prime Minister Trevellyan, Lady Vaylin, every member of the Republican diplomatic party, and Dooku himself, were here in person.

Since coming to Perlia, Dooku had attended many meetings. He had a well-established reputation in the Outer Rim, both as a capable ruler and defender of the people – the latter both a result of his time as a Jedi Knight endlessly trying to keep the sinking ship that was the Republic afloat and his actions since throwing off that particular set of shackles. He had spoken with Sith intelligence officers eager to learn all they could about the current state of the galaxy, and with civil servants wondering if he might know who to ask for the supplies required in Perlia's rebuilding following the damage inflicted by Varan's fleet.

As far as he could tell, Darth Cain hadn't told anyone about his turning to the Dark Side since leaving the Order. The Sith acolytes and soldiers kept an eye on him, but they did the same with Obi-Wan and Master Plo Koon, so clearly that was because they knew of his Jedi past and were rightfully wary of his abilities. He didn't doubt that they harboured their own suspicions, of course : any Jedi who left the Order faced those, mostly because they were so often correct.

Then there were the Republican envoys. Dooku had spent his entire time on Perlia wondering if today would be the day Kenobi figured out that his grandmaster had Fallen, now that he had multiple examples of Darksiders (who weren't that rabid mutt Maul) to use as reference. So far, it hadn't happened, and the Count didn't think it would happen today, for they had far more pressing matters to discuss.

This particular meeting had been about the sudden departure of Darth Cain, along with most of the fleet the Sith Lord had assembled since his return, thousands of Imperial soldiers, and most of the Sith acolytes who'd accompanied him through time. Although the preparations for this expedition had been surprisingly discreet, there was no way the Sith Lord could have hidden it from them; or rather, Darth Cain hadn't seen the need to conceal it. He'd made a public announcement on the Perlian Holonet just before leaving, in fact, publicly declaring his intent to free the Savareen system from the Cartels.

The envoys had immediately sent a warning to the Republic. Dooku could easily imagine the reactions to the Lord of Terror's decision to 'liberate' another planet from the Hutts on Coruscant, and he was thankful it wasn't his problem do deal with – let Sidious handle the panicked politicians and news organizations. Then Senator Donali had very politely asked for a meeting with the people running Perlia in Cain's absence to 'talk about recent developments and what they mean for the relationship between Perlia and the rest of the Republic going forward', which Dooku had to admit was an impressively diplomatic phrasing for 'what the kark are you doing, you crazy maniacs'.

As the representative and ruler of another system, Dooku had been invited to the meeting, which took place in the Sith Temple as an open power move. They had been three hours into the discussion and going nowhere (the Republicans wanted guarantees Darth Cain wasn't rebuilding the Sith Empire under the guise of fighting the Cartels, while Vaylin didn't see any issue with rebuilding the Empire so long as her Teacher was in charge and Prime Minister Trevellyan wisely kept his opinions to himself) when Commodore Kasteen had cut in, the expression of her holo-projection grave.

The Invincible had received a garbled transmission from the Dread Son, the Imperial officer revealed. The ship's computers had cleaned it up quickly, and it had turned out to be a transmission from Darth Cain himself that the expedition fleet had run into an armada of pirates and mercenaries mustering at Savareen under the banner of the Cartels.

Like everyone else, the Count had expected the Savareen campaign to be a breeze for the Sith forces. Being the source of a very good brandy didn't translate to strong defenses, and unlike Tatooine, the planet wasn't known to be a center of Hutt influence. As a matter of fact, Dooku had wondered why Cain had even bothered going there in person. While Savareen's position relative to Tatooine made it a logical next step in the Sith Lord's rebuilding of his power base under the guise of fighting the Cartels, it hardly seemed worth the Lord of Terror's personal attention.

Now, with Commodore Kasteen's revelations, Dooku no longer wondered about that. Instead, he was desperately trying to figure out what Darth Cain's plan in apparently throwing himself and most of his forces into mortal peril actually was.

Whatever it was, it was clear he hadn't shared it with his subordinates, who felt on the verge of panic. Lady Vaylin wanted nothing more than take every ship still in Perlia and rush to her mentor's aide. Commodore Kasteen had respectfully pointed out that went against Cain's own orders to focus on the defense of Tatooine, which had caused some distress in the Sith apprentice. That was not exactly a reassuring prospect, given her immense power and legendary reputation for throwing the kind of temper tantrums that could make even Qui-Gon's early days as a Padawan look tame.

"If the numbers you received are accurate," said the Count of Serenno in an attempt to distract Darth Cain's apprentice from what looked worryingly like an imminent meltdown, "then merely sending the few ships still in this system will serve no purpose. Any ship leaving now will take hours at best to get to Savareen : the battle in the void will be over by then, one way or another –"

Suddenly, Dooku stumbled, his words failing him.

Being inside the Sith Temple had never been pleasant. The building Force presence was a constant pressure on his mind, a hungry beast looking at him like he was a particularly appetizing snack, kept in check only by the fact he was an invited guest of its master. But now, it was howling with delight, and the temperature, which was always kept just on the right side of comfortably fresh by what Dooku was fairly certain weren't entirely natural means, had decreased sharply, causing the breath of every Human to fog and a thin layer of frost to form on the table at the center of the room.

Dooku leaned against that very table for support now, his heart pummelling in his chest at a speed that would be very worrying in most Human men his age. Drawing on every trick he knew, he slowly managed to calm himself, and took a look around. The Jedi were also reeling, but Prime Minister Trevellyan and Senator Donali appeared unaffected. Whatever had happened, only the Force-sensitives in the room had sensed it.

"Masters Jedi ?" asked Donali, worry plain in his voice as he approached them to help. "What's wrong ? What happened ?"

"I," Master Plo Koon managed to say, his voice sounding feeble through his mask, "I'm not sure. What was that ? I felt … a great terror, looming in the distance, even as the Temple laughed in delight."

"That," said Vaylin, standing straight, "was my Teacher's doing."

The Sith apprentice no longer looked afraid for Darth Cain's uncertain fate. She was smiling now, showing her teeth in a delighted grin, and that sight scared Dooku far more than her fear had.

"What exactly do you mean by that, Lady Vaylin ?" asked Obi-Wan, looking as shaken as Dooku felt.

"Darth Cain has spent so much time here, this building is bound to him, even after all this time," the apprentice explained. "And just now, it reacted to him using his power to the fullest. These miserable vermin the Hutts have recruited in Savareen are feeling the wrath of a true Sith Lord as we speak, their puny minds breaking under his might."

"You're talking about Darth Cain's ability to inspire terror in his enemies," said Plo Koon, looking pale for a Kel Dor. "That power is described in the records we've of him, but is that really something he can use on an enemy fleet ?"

"Oh, yes," the golden-eyed Human nodded proudly. "It only makes sense, doesn't it ? People who use Battle Meditation can influence the course of void battles, so why would Teacher's power be more limited ? Isn't it part of the Jedi creed that all things are connected through the Force ?"

Dooku could read Kenobi's and Plo Koon's faces well enough to know that they wanted to protest and say that was only in theory. Yoda could prattle all he wanted about size not mattering, but Force abilities were still very much affected by things like mass and distance in practice. Sidious had hinted that such limits could be surpassed through the study of the Dark Side, and there were hints in the most ancient texts that the legendary Naga Sadow had been able to use his own version of Battle Meditation to coordinate the forces of the first Sith Empire across the entire galaxy during the Great Hyperspace War, but Dooku himself hadn't reached that level of power.

The Jedi's disbelief was understandable, but misplaced. Unlike Plo Koon, Dooku had felt Darth Cain's power first-hand when he'd first met the Lord of Terror. Given how easily the Count had been brought to his knees, he'd no doubt Cain could break the will of any number of lowly pirate scum.

"Of course," Vaylin admitted with a shrug, "it isn't exactly easy, even for my Teacher. But without Force users of their own, the Cartel thugs will be easily broken before him."

Ah, so the Lord of Terror's ability to cause unholy terror in the hearts of all who stood against him had some limits after all, thought Dooku with more than a little sarcasm. How reassuring.

"So the situation on Savareen isn't as dire as it might have appeared, then," said Trevellyan.

"Yes," nodded Vaylin. "I … I might have overreacted," she continued, with obvious reluctance, but nobody in the room was stupid enough to press the point.

The mere fact she no longer looked like she was on the verge of panicking was relief enough. Even working together with the two Jedi, Dooku didn't think he'd a chance to subdue Cain's apprentice if she turned violent – and even if they somehow miraculously succeeded where entire Sith and Jedi armies had failed thousands of years ago, all they'd have achieved would've been turning the rest of the planet – and, more importantly, Darth Cain – against them.

"If Darth Cain was able to use this ability to disrupt the Cartel fleet," said Kenobi, "then he must have been escaped the trap, and retreated back to Tatooine, right ? In which case, we should get a call from him as soon as the Dread Son enters hyperspace and is out of the jamming field, and you'll be able to plan your next move."

There was a brief instant of silence, and then Vaylin and Kasteen erupted in laughter, while Trevellyan smirked.

"I'm sorry, what did I say ?" asked Kenobi, befuddled. Dooku had an inkling as to the source of the Perlians' amusement, but kept silent.

"Master Jedi, the Lord of Terror does not 'retreat'," the Prime Minister of Perlia explained. "That is why Lady Vaylin was worried about him in the first place. In the stories passed down by my forebears, it was always made very clear that Darth Cain never fled from his enemies, even when it might have been the most sensible course of action for anyone else."

"So you think he's still in Savareen ?" asked Plo Koon. "Is Darth Cain's power so great that he can overcome such a large disparity in numbers as our intelligence indicates ?"

"It's not about numbers," explained Commodore Kasteen. "Darth Cain has never bothered with the odds, not when he is personally present and able to affect the result of the battle. He always accepts retreating from superior numbers when it's his subordinates doing it, but he's never done it himself – and he always wins. From what I understand, it became something of a contest between him and the Wrath," she added, with a quick glance at Vaylin.

"Teacher is far more powerful and smarter than that brute ever was," the apprentice murmured.

"And this 'Wrath' would be ?" asked Senator Donali.

"One of the most powerful Sith Lords of the Empire," replied the Commodore. "The Emperor's personal executioner, sent after the Empire's greatest enemies. When Vitiate's betrayal was revealed, he became the Empire's Wrath instead, and was responsible for many Imperial victories against the Republic in the Second Great Galactic War. He …" Again, the Imperial officer looked at Vaylin, who sighed and took over the explanation.

"He and I fought when I was leading my brother's armies against the Republic and the Empire," she said, "before I realized how Arcann and I were just playing into our father's hands by trying to conquer the galaxy." The amount of venom Vaylin could put into a single word was truly impressive, Dooku noted. "He was strong, and he actually managed to survive and escape me."

Hearing such a legendary figure mentioned so casually still felt surreal to Dooku, despite the weeks he'd now spent in the presence of the time-displaced Sith refugees. In the modern galaxy, Jedi were often regarded as worth an entire army on their own by the ignorant masses. In most cases, that was a blatant falsehood : Jedi were keepers of the peace, more trained in diplomacy and peaceful resolution of conflict than actual battle.

Any single Jedi who had reached a level where they were allowed to take on missions outside the Temple could face a squad of most militaries and win, yes, but that was the limit of their abilities. If a Jedi drew their lightsaber, then things had already gone wrong. Even Dooku, one of the Order's best duellists, and with the power of the Dark Side now behind him, knew that he couldn't face an entire army and win – survive and escape, maybe, depending on the circumstances, but not win.

What Vaylin was describing, however, was a reminder that she, Darth Cain, and this 'Wrath', had all played in an entirely different league when their respective nations had warred across the galaxy. Like a handful of other champions of that epoch, they were breakers of armies, tactical assets who could shift the tide of entire campaigns by their mere presence.

It seemed that Vaylin had forgotten that herself, in her very un-Sith-like worry for her Teacher. But then, the simple fact that Darth Vitiate's daughter referred to the Lord of Terror as her 'Teacher' rather than her Master was proof enough that her relationship with Cain was atypical of the Sith Master-Apprentice bond.

"Back on the matter at hand," said Dooku. "While it is undoubtedly good news that Darth Cain and his forces are not defenceless," not that he had ever thought that to be the case, "I don't believe this changes much regarding what you can or should do on your end, Lady Vaylin, Commodore Kasteen. Sending reinforcements is still –"

He was cut off by the sound of a personal holo ringing urgently. Incredulous, he swept his gaze across the other people present, and found that the offending device belonged to none other than Kenobi. Hadn't Qui-Gon taught his Padawan basic manners ?

"My apologies," said the Jedi Knight, blushing slightly as he brought his holoprojector, checked the caller's identity, and, after another quick apologetic look, accepted it. "Yes, Mrs Skywalker-Lars ? What is … Anakin did what ?!"

Oh, by all the Corellian Hells, thought the Count of Serenno, feeling his stomach drop. What had that foolish boy done now ?

---

Amberley was going to strangle Ciaphas the next time she saw him.

She understood why he had gone to Savareen without him needing to explain (which was convenient, since him calling her to talk about it would definitely have raised some eyebrows in the Jedi Temple). To someone who knew him like she did, his reasoning was obvious : he thought he needed to continue the crusade his reckless apprentice had started on Tatooine, and that if he didn't lead the next campaign in person, he would somehow lose the respect of the men and women he had led through hell countless times over, and they would violently overthrow him, or start launching their own operations without his authorization.

And Savareen, being (according to a quick Holonet search) near Tatooine, sparsely populated, and under the control of gangs affiliated with the Hutt Cartels who were doing Force knew what to maintain their control of said population, had been a logical next step.

But when the Republican envoys on Perlia had contacted Coruscant and said that the Lord of Terror had left Perlia with a fleet of seized ships and a large portion of his military forces, she'd been all but dragged before the Jedi Council and asked what she thought Cain was doing. Her answer had basically amounted to 'continuing what his apprentice started on Tatooine', but before the Council could start questioning her in more detail, it had happened.

The Jedi Temple was one of the mightiest bastions of the Light Side in the galaxy. To those gifted with the Force, it hummed with tranquillity, a constant background 'noise' which helped find peace. It was for this reason the Order raised the younglings here : the legacy of generations of Jedi helped them grow into their abilities with minimal harm.

Thus, the sudden rush of raw terror which had swept through the Temple's corridors had caught them all completely by surprise. Thankfully, it had only lasted for a single heartbeat before the Temple's inner radiance pushed it away, but everyone had felt it, from the Masters to the newly-inducted younglings. Somewhere far away, a great darkness had returned to the galaxy, an ancient and terrible power which had long been absent.

It was a power Amberley knew well, even if it had been many years since it had been directed at her. She'd been able to withstand such a distant echo of it with ease, but the rest of the Order didn't share her familiarity.

It had taken a few moments for the Masters to recover, and longer for them to check with the rest of the Temple and assure the Jedi that no, they weren't under attack, and they should attend to the younglings and make sure they were reassured. Yoda looked like he wanted to hop off his seat and rush down to the crèches in person, but Amberley had no doubt the Grandmaster would be on his way the moment they were done.

Which, once again, meant that she had to face the entire Jedi Council, barring Master Plo Koon who was still on Perlia, and explain what had happened.

"When the Invincible returned from hyperspace, we all felt a disturbance in the Force," said Master Mundi, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. "But this … this was something else entirely."

"Darth Cain's work, it was," said Master Yoda, and everyone in the room nodded, Amberley included. There was no point in denying it.

"Yes. That was him, without question, using his ability to inspire terror on a large scale. You must understand, however, that back during the war, this wouldn't have resonated so strongly through the Force," Amberley explained. "There were simply too many Sith Lords, too many battles, too many horrors loose among the stars. But it has been a thousand years since someone wielded the Dark Side so greatly and openly. The Force is … quieter now, calmer, like a still pond instead of the tumultuous sea it was in my time. So a single stone dropped inside it registers as a much greater disturbance now."

"Knight Vail, even during the war with the Sith Empire, Force users of Cain's power were rare," pointed out Master Windu.

Well, yes, obviously. Try making Ciaphas himself realize it, though. It was part of his charm, but the man's tendency toward self-deprecation could be downright infuriating at times. Out loud, Amberley replied :

"Rare, yes, but not unique. The pressures of war forced many previously unknown talents to the surface on both sides. There were more users of Battle Meditation in the Order at the same time than ever before, and, unless I miss my guess, since."

"Into soldiers, war makes Jedi," said Yoda, nodding sadly. "Away from peace and tranquillity, and into the crucible of violence and chaos, not different from everyone else are we. Powerful in battle, yes, but troubled in the soul, always – so it is, for all sentients, and so for us, it is as well. Great, war does not make one."

Amberley couldn't argue with that. War was all she'd known as a Jedi, and she had seen the scars conflict had left on her fellows, and bore more than a few herself. One lesson she'd learned early was the being able to use the Force didn't make the Jedi any better than the soldiers who fought the Sith Empire : they could fail just like everyone else, and their greater power meant that their failures were all the more devastating.

"I have a question," said Master Trebor. "Why would Darth Cain use this power ? Savareen is a sparsely populated world, and from what Master Plo Koon and Knight Kenobi told us, he took more than enough troops with him to deal with the local gangs. And Darth Cain does not strike me as the type of man to use such blatant shows of power without reason. If this isn't merely to remind us of the power he wields, then what might have pushed his hand ?"

That … was actually a very good question. One Amberley should have asked herself before, and one with an obvious, and worrying, answer.

"I believe," she began, "that the most reasonable explanation is that Cain found more resistance in Savareen than he anticipated, and was forced to resort to such a method."

Ciaphas was aware of how tense the Republic was due to his re-emergence. He thought he'd no choice but to continue the anti-slavery crusade Vaylin had started, but Amberley knew he'd do his best to avoid looking threatening to the rest of the galaxy. Unfortunately, for all his many talents, one thing Ciaphas had never really mastered was not looking threatening.

"We need to contact our envoys on Perlia at once," said Windu. "They might have more information on what exactly is happening in Savareen."

Yes, they should do that. And Amberley was definitely going to strangle Ciaphas when she next met him – right after she hugged him for an hour or two.

---

Alone in his office, Sheev Palpatine seethed.

He had been in the middle of yet another meeting with a group of Senators worried about the recent developments in the Outer Rim when Darth Cain had done … whatever it was he'd done. It had taken every bit of his self-control to avoid slipping and show any surprise to his visitors : there was a time and place to show weakness and play up his mask of a tired old man crushed by the weight of his responsibilities, but that hadn't been it.

So he had kept his facade up, and once the meeting was over, called his assistant and told him not to let anyone disturb him for the next hour, so that he could properly think about what he'd felt.

To wield such power openly, in blatant defiance of the Jedi's close-mindedness … it made Sidious burn with envy. The Lord of Terror couldn't have been more blatant, ensuring the echoes of his power reached all the way to Coruscant, into the very halls of the hated Jedi. It was an open challenge, a taunt directed at the feeble servants of the Light – and a gauntlet thrown in Sidious' own face, a mocking of his own inability to act publicly.

Palpatine had already known about Darth Cain's departure from Perlia, of course. Dooku couldn't contact him directly, not without risking drawing the attention of the Sith spies on the planet, but as Supreme Chancellor, he'd been informed the moment Kenobi and the others had learned about it.

That Darth Cain sought to extend his reach had been no surprise, but that he'd chosen Savareen as his target had been. Somehow, the Sith Lord's agents must have learned of Marlo mustering his forces at Savareen. That didn't surprise Palpatine : the spies of the Sith Empire had more experience in such matters than anyone else in the current galaxy. How quickly they had adapted to the new state of affairs, however, was concerning : Palpatine would have expected them to have taken some more time to find their footing, since every network they'd relied on was long gone … at least, he hoped so. Surely the Line of Bane would have discovered any ancient secret society of Sith spies embedded in the Republic by now.

But there had to be something he wasn't seeing yet. Palpatine had called Hanar and told her to reach out to her contacts in the Hutt fleet to find out what exactly was going on, and according to her report, Darth Cain hadn't fled Savareen while the mercenaries were distracted by his display of Dark Side power. Instead, the Sith Lord was, by all accounts, now stuck on Savareen, with a large Hutt fleet still orbiting the planet slowly pulling itself back in order. Sidious didn't believe for a moment that such low-life scum would manage to slay one such as the Lord of Terror, but it still seemed a strange move on the part of the rival Sith.

Was Darth Cain so secure in his own power, so confident in the might of the Dark Side, that he was certain he could crush the entire host assembled by the Cartels so easily ? The records of the Old Republic Sidious had access to certainly showed that Cain had a habit of facing seemingly impossible challenges head-on, and he'd always emerged on top in previous occasions.

Maybe he was, Sidious thought bitterly, ignoring the cold sensation settling in his stomach at the idea. The Lord of Terror knew more of battle than any scion of the Line of Bane ever had, all the way up to their founder, who had witnessed the tail end of the New Sith Wars. If he believed he could take on every low-life Marlo had assembled, then he must have a good reason.

Which was a worrying thought. For all the influence Palpatine wielded in his various identities, his military resources were far more limited. With the clone army still several years from readiness, the only assets available to him in his persona as Supreme Chancellor were the Coruscant Guard, who hadn't seen combat in centuries. Even as Darth Sidious, he had always worked in the shadows : Dooku was the one tasked with gathering the droid armies of the megacorporations under his control for use in the galactic war demanded by the Great Plan.

Cain's return had made that particular scheme unlikely to succeed, and while Sidious was nothing if not adaptable, he was still building up a secondary network of contacts in the Outer Rim, made up of disposable assets he could use against Darth Cain to convince him that his mysterious rival was indeed based in the Outer Rim.

Eventually, Palpatine came to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do at the moment but watch the situation. He didn't have much invested in Marlo's efforts to curb the Lord of Terror's ambitions : Hanar was a useful pawn, but a replaceable one. Cain's war against the Cartels was sure to provide him with plenty of opportunities he could turn to his advantage one way or another. War, after all, was the seedbed of chaos, and it was within chaos that a true Sith did his best work.

In the meantime, though, he needed to get in touch with Dooku. The Count's silence, while understandable, was becoming worrying. Having someone in the heart of Cain's power was a useful card, but not if the card in question flipped to his opponent's hand.

---

The last few months had been very confusing for Senator Padmé Amidala, but then that was hardly unique to her. Since the sudden appearance of the Invincible in Perlia and the return of the Sith to the Outer Rim, things had been confusing for everybody who paid any attention to galactic affairs.

Before the events of Perlia, Padmé's only real knowledge of the Sith had come from what had happened on Naboo years ago, when one of the mysterious Sith had barred her party's way and killed Master Jinn before being slain by Obi-Wan. Even those few moments in the red Zabrak's presence had been enough to fill her with dread, though she'd kept her fear hidden behind her queenly mask. She had heard that some people found the Jedi's perpetually calm demeanour unsettling, but that had been something else entirely, something which had called upon a deep, primal part of the Naboo queen and filled her with dread.

It was clear that Darth Cain was several orders of magnitude more dangerous than Maul (as Nute Gunray had named Qui-Gon's assassin, though the Trade Federation's Viceroy had been infuriatingly tight-lipped about where he had come from), even without taking into account the fact he'd the largest battleship in the galaxy and an army of trained, veteran soldiers under his command. Padmé didn't feel any shame in admitting that, when she'd first heard the news, her reaction had been fear, bordering on panic. But, so far, Darth Cain had yet to do anything against the Republic.

There were still calls in the Senate to prepare for war, to raise an army to fight the returned Sith. Padmé understood where they were coming from. Since the battle of Perlia, historians were regular guests on every news show on the Holonet, and while Padmé restricted herself to the more reputable networks, avoiding the sensationalizing, doomsaying ones, it was still simple fact that every single time the Sith showed up in the Republic's history had ended in war and atrocities that made the Trade Federation's exactions on Naboo pale by comparison.

However, Padmé was aware that by trying to protect themselves, they might start the very war they were afraid of. Once the Republic had an army, the temptation to use it, regardless of whether it was the correct choice or not, would be all but impossible to resist : the people would want to see something in return for the increased taxes and conscription which would be required to re-arm the Republic after a thousand years of relative peace.

Padmé herself wanted to believe that conflict with Cain wasn't inevitable. From what she had heard, the Jedi Order genuinely believed that peace was possible, or at least possible enough to warrant at least attempting diplomacy with the Lord of Terror. And since the Sith and the Jedi had always been bitter enemies, the fact that the Order was willing to consider peace was a strong indicator that they should follow suit – though there were rumors, of course, that the Order was merely pretending to play along with Cain's diplomatic overtures to buy time for the Republic to rearm, and that they were failing the Knights by not doing everything in their power to prepare.

There was also the fact that Cain had freed Tatooine from the Hutts. Since witnessing the practice of slavery on the desert planet with her own eyes years ago, Padmé had done her best to fight that affront to sentient dignity. She'd sent her handmaidens to help free slaves and get them off-world, while she did everything she could on Coruscant to get more support for the enforcement of the anti-slavery laws.

To her shame, she couldn't deny that her handmaidens had done more good than her, as every attempt at changing Coruscanti attitudes had ended in failure. At least she'd managed to get in touch with some like-minded fellow Senators who supported anti-slavery organizations in the Outer Rim.

These same Senators had been hard at work trying to figure out what exactly was going on with Perlia and Tatooine now. The galaxy's various news organizations were keeping an attentive look on any information out of the two systems, but so far, nobody had dared to send reporters to either. Their only source of information was the images coming from the locals, which was obviously suspect (the Sith Empire's mastery of propaganda had been legendary, and judging by the images of Lady Vaylin's actions on Tatooine which had spread, clearly the Imperial experts hadn't lost their touch), and the periodic reports of the diplomatic envoys on Perlia.

In that regard, at least, the news were good. Senator Donali had spent weeks on Perlia without incident. It might all be a ploy to get the Republic to lower its guard, but at the very least, it indicated that Darth Cain wasn't as bloodthirsty as some of the less-credentialed historians claimed all Sith Lords were, especially since the Senator of the Damocles Sector was escorted by Jedi.

She should talk with Obi-Wan soon, she decided. It had been too long since the two of them had spoken, and if nothing else, it would give her a reason to ask about Shmi, whom she'd seen on Perlia's Holonet news, standing with Vaylin herself. It had been quite the shock at the time, but she hadn't seemed to be under any kind of duress, and the sight of Anakin running up and hugging her had brought a tear to her eye.

And, at the same, she could ask how Anakin was doing, now that he'd been reunited with his mother. The fact that Padmé had been unable to do anything to prevent the boy who'd risked his life to help her get to Coruscant in the (ultimately futile) hope of finding help for her people from being separated from his mother had kept her up at night, but maybe she could make it up to the two of them somehow now.

Yes, Padmé decided. She had spent too long on the sidelines, trying to figure out what was going on. It was time for her to get involved directly.

Notes:

AN : Look, I said there would be shorter chapters in this arc, and that comes at a price. I promise we'll get back to Savareen in the next one.

While writing Padmé's POV, I checked Nute Gunray's backstory, and I have a question : why in the Force's name didn't the Jedi ask him where this Sith who killed Qui-Gon came from ?! No, seriously. Since Maul doesn't speak during his confrontation with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, I can only assume the reason the Order even knows his name is because Gunray gave it to them (he knows it because Sidious gave it to him when he sent him over to assist, in the "this is getting out of hand, now there are two of them" meme).

So the Jedi Order knows that Gunray was in cahoots with at least one Sith. Given that they know about the whole Master/Apprentice thing, if not the Rule of Two itself, that means he probably also worked with the OTHER Sith. Why didn't they interrogate him about that ?! I understand that the answer is probably tied to Palpatine wanting to keep things secret and use Gunray as a pawn in the Clone Wars later on, but still. This is the sort of thing that makes the Order look like a bunch of morons in the prequels.

I am going to assume the Jedi tried to get access to Gunray after he was handed to the courts, were rebuffed for political/bureaucratic reasons (manipulated by Sidious in the background) and ultimately decided that damaging their relationship with the Republic over what Gunray knew (which they assumed - probably correctly - wasn't much in the first place, what with Sith being notoriously paranoid) wasn't worth it. Perhaps not the correct move in the long run, but it's easy to critique from our omniscient perspective.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts and comments.

Also, I think it's time I start looking for some cover art for this story, so if one of you fine people happens to be talented at drawing or know of an existing piece of artwork which (with the artist's permission) would fit, please tell me.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 9: Storm

In the depths of the Invincible, Anakin Skywalker let the Force flow through him as he worked. Parts flew around him without anyone holding them, assembling in the air before affixing themselves to the rapidly-growing hyperdrive. Tools leapt into his hands as he moved, climbing all across the immense engines which were responsible for propelling the Sith flagship through hyperspace.

In all his life, very rarely had Anakin experienced anything close to what he was feeling now, so in tune with the Force. The only occasions he could remember were when he had won the podrace despite being a human pilot, which had earned his freedom, and when he had blown up the Trade Federation ship in Naboo's orbit. In those instances, he'd gone beyond thought, beyond instinct, and moved purely in accordance to what he now knew had been the will of the Force.

As for why exactly the Force was so interested in him, he could only attribute it to the prophecy of the Chosen One Master Jinn had been convinced was about him. Certainly, using the Force had always been easier for Anakin than it was for other Padawans. Once Obi-Wan had taught him the basics, his learning speed had been very, very fast : he could move objects with his mind, accelerate or reinforce his body, and use the combat precognition every Jedi depended on in battle (because otherwise, using a weapon like a lightsaber was just asking to get your limbs chopped off).

But even for him, it was draining, a constant effort of will and focus to draw on the Force, to make it do what he wanted it to do. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed, he couldn't find the harmony, the serenity Obi-Wan always talked about. Meditation didn't help : if anything, it made things worse, amplifying whatever errant thoughts he couldn't get out of his head.

Not so now. The Force flowed through him freely, guiding his actions, wordlessly whispering technical answers to problems it would normally have taken him days to figure out the solution to.

He thought he knew why : it was because Cain was in danger, and the Force didn't want him to die. Master Qui-Gon Jinn had taught him, in what little time they'd spent together, that the Force bound all living things together, but it was also alive in itself, with a will of its own. Trying to divine the will of the Force was all but impossible, Master Jinn had said, but he'd firmly believed the Living Force wanted the good of everyone in the galaxy – that this was the truth of what Jedi called the Light Side of the Force.

Cain was strong, Anakin knew. Very, very strong, since he must be stronger than Vaylin and Vaylin had killed Jabba in his own palace, something Anakin hadn't even dreamt was possible back when he was a slave, when he'd fantasized about freeing everyone who suffered under the slavers' whip.

And now, Anakin even had an example of how strong Darth Cain was. Like every other Force-sensitive on Perlia (and likely in the galaxy), Anakin had felt it when Darth Cain had used his power. To him, it had sounded like the roar of a Krayt Dragon, proudly announcing his presence to everyone and challenging them to do anything about it.

So yes, Darth Cain was strong. But he wasn't all-powerful, or the Republic wouldn't have won the war thousands of years ago. He could lose; he could be hurt; he could be killed.

And this, Anakin couldn't let happen. Cain might be a Sith, but his apprentice had saved the slaves of Tatooine; in the entire galaxy, it seemed, he was the only one willing to stand up to the Hutt Cartels and do something about them.

The teenage Padawan knew he was being unfair to the Jedi Order and the Republic. He knew there were numerous factors in play, that it wasn't apathy that held the Order back from going into the Outer Rim and dismantling slavery at the point of ten thousand lightsabers. But for all that he'd experienced far more than anyone his age ever should, Anakin Skywalker was still a teenager : a child, growing in power but still lacking in wisdom. But if being wise was accepting the existence of slavery as an inevitable, then Anakin was fine staying a child forever.

And it seemed the Force approved, even if Cain used the Dark Side – which, in Master Jinn's metaphor, was when people tried to force their own desires and impulses on the Force and use it for their own selfish goals instead. Anakin wasn't sure how that worked, but he figured the Force knew what it was doing.

Following the Force's guidance, the Padawan had sneaked aboard one of the regular transports between the surface of Perlia and the Invincible, and from there, made his way to the engineering decks. Security wasn't exactly lax, but with a lot of soldiers being away on Perlia, Tatooine, or accompanying Darth Cain to Savareen, it wasn't as tight as it might have been either, and Anakin had spent his formative years avoiding the gaze of enforcers as he looked for water, food or medicine for the other slaves. Sure, the Sith were a lot better trained than the thugs of Tatooine, but Anakin had gotten much better since then, too, and he'd made it all the way to the hyperdrive before someone had finally seen him and he started to panic.

Anakin wasn't very good at the Jedi mind trick, and he was fine with that. He understood how useful the ability was outside the safety of the Temple, but it still made him uncomfortable to alter someone's thoughts like that. Paradoxically, he preferred using the threat of violence to force someone to do something : it felt more honest, less of a slippery slope in a way he had trouble properly articulating when Obi-Wan asked him about it.

But he hadn't needed to do either when the crew members had found him : instead, he'd simply said he'd come to fix the hyperdrive, and after exchanging bemused looks, they had let him through. Of course, they had called in their superiors, and escorted him, but that was still more than he'd expected. He'd a feeling they were used to Force users doing crazy stuff all the time, probably because they were from a time when there'd been a lot of Sith running around, and based on what Obi-Wan's history lessons had taught Anakin, most of them hadn't been as reasonable as Cain or Vaylin.

The hyperdrive engines of the Invincible were still in the process of being dismantled and put back together by the ship's engineers after their last journey. Anakin had known they were huge, but he hadn't really grasped how huge until he'd seen the immense room with his own eyes. The entire chamber was a giant workshop, with dozens of holos showing various pieces of the greater whole, and many more engineers working tirelessly – each and every one of them had turned to look at the Padawan who'd suddenly intruded into their domain.

Before anyone could say anything, Anakin had grabbed a spanner from a pile of tools, used the Force to jump ten meters in the air and up on one of the components, and gotten to work, letting the Force flow through him.

Obi-Wan was going to be furious, he knew. They weren't supposed to do anything which might get the Sith angry at the Republic, and Anakin was self-aware enough to know that sneaking aboard the Invincible to fiddle with the hyperdrive didn't look good. If he failed, then the Sith could accuse him of sabotaging the repairs to keep the superdreadnought stranded in Perlia.

If he succeeded … well, the Sith wouldn't be angry at him, but the rest of the galaxy would be. But Anakin didn't care. The Force was guiding him, and he owed a debt to Vaylin's Teacher for her freeing his homeworld – and such debts had to be repaid, or else you were the worst kind of sleemo.

And as he worked, with his hands and with the Force, he felt the words of an old song on his lips – a song whispered quietly by slaves huddled around the fires in the cold nights of his homeworld, when the masters couldn't hear. It was just one song among many, from one story among many which the slaves of the desert planet told each other to keep the crushing weight of despair at bay.

It would still be sung, now that the masters were gone, but the occasion would be very different. Now, it would be a celebration and a promise, not a hope and a dream.

Anakin hadn't thought about the song in years, hadn't heard or sung it for even longer, yet now its first verse felt like the most natural thing in the universe to sing :

"Hold onto hope, we're starward bound.

In the darkest of night, there's light to be found.

From a spark will be born a fire,

Shinin' through the shadow of doubt …"

---

Felicia Tyber, chief engineer of the Invincible, watched the Padawan work with increasing awe.

Everyone aboard the Invincible knew that Force users were crazy. You didn't survive for long in the Sith Army without learning that fact, even if you didn't say it aloud. Admittedly, those who were lucky enough to serve under Darth Cain were exposed to the better kind of crazy, where the Force users were helping instead of making everything worse for everyone.

And there were degrees of craziness : the acolytes were much less crazy than Lady Vaylin, for instance, and she was less crazy than Darth Cain, even if most people who didn't know them would think it was the other way around.

But you didn't see the Lord of Terror do the impossible time and time again without realizing that, despite the mask of calm and sanity he kept up, Darth Cain was crazier than any other Sith in the Empire – only, in a good way.

Alright, perhaps it didn't make much sense, but Felicia was a Cyborg and an engineer, not a philosopher.

She knew the kid was using the Force, but it didn't feel like anything Felicia had experienced before. As chief engineer, she'd been in the presence of Darth Cain when someone had delivered bad news to him more than once : she'd felt the pressure of his rage, the cold burrowing deep into the hearts of everyone in the vicinity until the Lord of Terror reined in his temper – always, always before someone got hurt, unless that someone was one of his enemies.

And, like everyone aboard the Invincible, she'd felt the horrific presence of the Emperor's spirit as they orbited Molech, during that final battle before their exile through time, when the monster had tried to dominate them all into killing each other to fuel his resurrection. Even now, and despite her implants, Felicia woke up in the middle of her rest period sometimes, clawing at her bedding, sure that she could still hear those awful whispers – which had only been whispers thanks to Darth Cain and the other Force users of the mission banding together to hold Vitiate at bay.

But this was completely different. It felt warmer, softer, kinder. Felicia had been with the Invincible all of its life, and she was well attuned to the ship's moods – and yes, those were moods, no matter what other, less-qualified engineers might think. Right now, the flagship felt … curious. It wasn't responding to what Skywalker was doing with hostility, but a sense of cautious optimism.

That was all Felicia needed. Skywalker wasn't a Sith, and from what Felicia knew it was mostly the Sith who had used the Force to create crazy superweapons and ships – which had all ended up being blown up by Republic operatives in the end – but if the Sith could use the Force to boost their engineering skills, she didn't see why a Jedi couldn't do it too.

Then Skywalker started singing in a language Felicia didn't know, and suddenly, she started to understand what he was doing.

She could see the parts moving, gently locking with one another, see how the whole engine was slowly coming together, piece by piece. She could see the design, how disparate elements would combine to form something capable of accomplishing the impossible – breaking the hard limits of the universe by propelling something as vast as the Invincible beyond lightspeed.

It was breathtakingly elegant and beautiful, and it would also take days for the Padawan to finish it on his own.

"Move," she ordered the technicians around her. They stared at her, not understanding, and she repeated, louder and with an edge of authority in her voice : "Move ! Can't you see what he's doing ? Then help him ! Or are you going to let a karking Jedi be the one who fixes our mess ? Do any of you want to report that to Commodore Kasteen ?"

That did it. Dozens of men and women rushed forward, the spell which had held them in place finally broken. They moved with the unity of professionals who'd worked together for years, following a plan they all knew but none of them could have described aloud.

Felicia itched to join them, but she had her own responsibilities to take care of first. She did a few scans, then took up her personal holo and called the bridge of the Invincible. Her call was picked up immediately – she rarely bothered to contact the bridge, and when she did, it was always with a very good reason.

"Commodore, this is Tyber," she said without preamble once the image of Commodore Kasteen had appeared in front of her. "I think … I think we're going to do it."

"What do you mean, Tyber ?" asked the Commodore, who still avoided looking directly at Felicia's implants, focusing on the one eye she had that was still organic. "What exactly is going on down there ? I've already called Mrs Skywalker-Lars, and she didn't even look that surprised her son would do something like this. The other Jedi are on their way to the Invincible, and they've asked us to detain the Padawan to keep him from hurting himself. I was about to call you and tell you to get security on the job."

"We're going to fix the hyperdrive, ma'am," Felicia explained, ignoring the sharp intake of breath her words provoked. "Not in a few months, but right now, in the next few hours – I'd say a day at most. The Padawan is putting the parts we collected from Tatooine together, and from what I can see and what our scans are telling us, it's going to work."

"… Are you sure ?" Felicia could hear the hint of longing in her commanding officer's voice. The Commodore had taken being stranded in Perlia just as bad as everyone else. The system was great, but the very idea of the mighty Invincible being trapped in a single star system was just plain wrong.

"Yes," she confirmed. "We were already pretty sure we could do it, that's why we even bothered to bring the parts back from Tatooine in the first place. It was just that it'd take us a lot of time to figure it out, and now it looks like the Padawan is cheating using the Force. To be honest, ma'am, we're lucky the Republic didn't have anyone like him back during the Wars, or our Navy would've gotten the short end of the stick even more often than it actually did."

Kasteen frowned at that statement, which would have seen Felicia executed for sedition on any other dreadnought. But since this was the Lord of Terror's flagship and there was no more Sith Empire (at least not until Darth Cain decided to do something to change that), the chief engineer figured she could get away with some light-hearted treason.

"Very well," the Commodore eventually replied. "I'll inform Lady Vaylin and start making preparations for our departure to Savareen. But, Tyber. If you're wrong …"

If she was wrong, then Darth Cain's apprentice would most likely kill them all in a fit of disappointment-fuelled rage. The Commodore didn't need to say it out loud. Lady Vaylin had been remarkably stable since leaving the Eternal Empire of Zakuul behind and joining Darth Cain, but she still had a reputation – and, crucially, Darth Cain wasn't here to calm her down.

Felicia would've preferred not to have Lady Vaylin informed until the hyperdrive had been turned on, but she understood why that wasn't an option, and she couldn't exactly have kept what was going on a secret from Kasteen.

"I'm not wrong, ma'am," she assured the Commodore.

"I hope so. Now get back to work."

With that typically curt goodbye, the link went dead, and Felicia pocketed her holo before stretching her limbs and joining the rest of the engineers, following the guidance of the song.

Hold on, my lord, she thought. We're coming.

---

As I stepped off the Dread Son's boarding ramp and unto the sands of one of Savareen's deserts, I had to mask just how tired I still was, even after a quick nap and a hot meal provided by JURG-N. Unleashing my aura of terror hadn't been the hard part : Erebus' training and Vitiate's trial had made sure of that. But keeping it under control to prevent it from affecting my own forces, as well as drawing it back once we were down on the planet, had been as draining as it always was.

I felt like I'd just run a marathon in full armor, and my headache reminded me of some of the times I'd gone out drinking with Darth Imperius on Dromund Kaas. But I couldn't afford to rest, because we didn't have much time. I knew from experience that within a few hours, the pirates would recover from what I had done to them, and they would undoubtedly be looking for revenge, if only to remove the stain on their reputation I had caused. If I was to survive this mess, I needed to make as much use of that grace period as I could. So I drew on the Force and strode out with as much confidence as I could fake.

The disembarkation had gone well while I recovered, and I could see Broklaw was already hard at work fortifying our position. Standard prefabricated building pieces were being pulled out of the ships and assembled by the engineering corps. It was the same type of buildings we'd used to house the Tatooinian refugees near the Temple on Perlia, although with a lot more gun emplacements than had been allowed to the former slaves.

By filling the holds of our flotilla, I'd been able to bring a few thousands soldiers with me, along with a dozen Sith acolytes and twice that number in Mandalorian fighters. More than enough to take care of some local criminals and establish a new order on Savareen, I had thought, but against the kind of number we were up against, it wouldn't be enough.

Our first priority was making sure they couldn't simply blow us up from orbit. Us landing far from what passed for civilization on this planet had removed the danger of collateral damage, but that went both ways (not that I thought the Hutts would've balked at opening fire if we'd landed in the middle of a city instead). While none of the ships we'd seen had looked to be fitted with high-caliber weaponry, neither had Varan's fleet, and it hadn't stopped the little bastard from killing a lot of people without the Perlians being able to do anything about it.

I had no intention of dying to concentrated orbital fire if I could help it, so I would have to do something which would make Amberley even more angry at me.

"Iskandar," I called out, projecting my voice so it could be heard without sounding like I was shouting (a little trick which had taken me years to perfect). I could have searched for him, or sent JURG-N to find him, but there were certain standards expected from a Sith Lord. "Attend me."

Within seconds, the pureblood was standing before me, waiting for my orders. Force help me, I swear he actually looked eager for instructions.

"Among the acolytes, you are the most skilled when it comes to rituals," I told him, and he positively preened under the compliment – which was nothing less than the truth.

Iskandar hadn't known anything about them when he'd fled from the Academy (if I remembered correctly, the course had been suspended after the thirteenth time a student had tried sacrificing all of their classmates for power), but he'd managed to learn from the few books on the subject I kept in the part of my library which was accessible to the acolytes. Once I'd realized that, I'd immediately confronted him about it, and he'd somehow ended up believing he'd passed some kind of test by finding these texts. I'd given him a stern warning to avoid following the same path as Darth Erebus, telling him – completely honestly – that I would kill him without hesitation if he showed any sign of emulating the Vile One.

Fortunately, by that point Erebus' legacy had been thoroughly besmirched in the Sith Empire, so Iskandar had assured me he'd no intention of dishonoring himself like this. Still, I'd kept a close eye on him, just in case his ambition overruled his common sense, a fate far too common among Darksiders. It hadn't so far, however, and that made him very useful.

"Which is why I have a task for you, one of great importance," I continued.

"I am at your command, my lord," he replied, head bowed.

"I know. Gather your peers, and call forth the storm. Let loose the fury of the Dark Side across this desert," I declared, gesturing at the seemingly endless expanse of sand all around us, "so that our enemies in the void cannot see us and cowardly bombard us from orbit."

"It will be done," he promised, and went to do my bidding.

"Are you sure that is wise, sir ?" asked JURG-N once Iskandar was out of earshot. "The Jedi Order will already be up in arms after what you did in orbit. This will not help."

"The Order can get in line," I sighed. "If they didn't want me to use scary Dark Side techniques against the Cartels, they should have dealt with them before we came back. Besides, Amberley knows I kept him away from anything like what Erebus did. What I've got him doing isn't that different from any number of times the Jedi combined their strength to pull off something ridiculous – it's not like I'm having him pull ships off the sky, for kriff's sake."

"If you think so, sir."

And that was that. One of the many, many great things about JURG-N was that, while he was perfectly willing to question my orders and course of action, if the reasoning I gave was sound, he immediately dropped the subject off – and, conversely and even more importantly, if it wasn't, he wouldn't let it go until I had either given him a reason he was happy with or I'd reconsidered my course of action. In the early days of our association, when I'd still been young and struggling to make sense of things in a galaxy so different from my time in Sicarus, that habit had saved my life more times than I cared to count.

I stood there for a few more seconds, re-centring myself, then started walking, once more infusing every step with the confidence expected of a Sith Lord. My commanders had established their command center in the first of the buildings to have been erected, and the troopers guarding the entrance saluted me as I walked in.

"Commander Broklaw," I barked, and the Imperial officer immediately snapped to attention with a sharp salute of his own. "I've ordered the acolytes to give us some cover from our foes in orbit. Make sure everyone is wearing the rebreather in their kit when the storm starts. Sulla, have your people scout the area and make us a map of any interesting features we can use. Unless I've misread the enemy, we're about to be swarmed by superior numbers from all directions, and I want these fools to learn what the Sith Army is capable of."

"So we get to fight raiders in the middle of a sandstorm ?" I could hear Sulla's smile in her voice. "Truly, you provide the most interesting battlefields, lord Cain."

"I'm glad you're having fun, Sulla," I replied drily. Despite not being a Sith herself, the Mandalorian leader could be as bloodthirsty as any of my peers. I'd half-hoped her relationship with Trevellyan would've calmed her down, but it didn't seem like it.

With a laugh, she left the command center, no doubt to join the scouting efforts herself, using her jetpack to move across the dunes faster than the Sith troopers could.

"We'll give the bastards a proper welcome, my lord," promised Broklaw. "They'll know not to mess with Cain's Own."

And he truly meant it, too. I smiled, only partially faking it this time. Despite all the headaches, there was something undeniably reassuring about having a bunch of warmongering, bloodthirsty psychopaths on your side when a battle was on the horizon.

I casually sat into one of the chairs around the main holographic display, and pretended to look at the positioning of our forces. I'd done all I could think of : now, it was time to hurry up and wait.

Truly, I mused, some things never changed, no matter how high you rose in the Sith hierarchy.

---

It had taken entirely too long for Durge's liking, but Grice and him had finally managed to get the fleet back in order.

The Hutta's Magnificence had endured Darth Cain's sorcery well compared to the rest of the fleet. Mostly, this had been thanks to Durge being unaffected by Cain's terror spell : while his perceptions had been disrupted, he'd been able to power through it and maintain order on the bridge by forcefully keeping the crew members seated and preventing them from doing anything stupid.

Eventually, the terror had retreated, but not before the entire Sith force had managed to land on Savareen. Durge had no idea why Cain hadn't taken advantage of the disruption to escape the system, and that made him nervous – and Durge hated feeling nervous.

Putting the scattered fleet back into a semblance of order had taken a lot of holocalls, which had been comprised of a lot of coldly spoken threats by Durge and softly-spoken promises by Grice, the slug finally pulling his weight by using the silver-tongue the Hutts were so famous for to cajole the raiders back into the game. Around one in ten of the ships had left the system regardless, willing to take their chances with the Cartels' displeasure rather than face the Lord of Terror again.

They'd also taken the time to contact Marlo directly to inform him of Darth Cain's arrival and what had followed. The Cartel leader hadn't looked pleased, but neither had he appeared surprised, and Durge wondered just how much the archives of the Council of Elders contained about the ancient Sith Lord. Marlo had told them to be careful, but not to waste this opportunity to remove Cain from the board, which was easy for him to say, since he was safe several parsecs away.

Still, a job was a job, and Durge always delivered, one way or another. And now the remainder of the fleet was, finally, back under their control, tenuous as it had proven to be. Dozens of ships were converging above the landing zone of the Sith vessels, although you could see their reluctance in the way ships belonging to rival groups were sticking close to each other in an instinctive search for mutual protection – nevermind that such close proximity would only put them at more risk if Cain decided to do an encore.

Durge was reading through a series of damage reports sent by the more professional warbands when one of the Hutta's Magnificence's bridge crew cautiously approached him. Lowering the datapad, he glared at the man, who quaked but, to his credit, stood his ground.

Or maybe, Durge thought, it was just that after experiencing Darth Cain's terror spell, the man's sense of fear was out of balance. If so, he would fix that quickly. Durge's job didn't allow for people to be less scared of him than the enemy.

"What ?" the Gen'Dai grunted.

"We … We've got a problem, sir."

Those weren't words Durge wanted to hear right now. Slowly, carefully (everything made for everyday use by other species was so fragile to him, especially in his armor), Durge put the datapad down and turned to face the officer.

"Elaborate," he ordered.

"There's a sandstorm on the planet," said the officer. "It came out of nowhere, and it's covering the entire region where the Sith landed and blocking our scanners."

"Fine," snapped Durge. "We can still bombard them until there's nothing left of them."

"Actually … given the calibre of the weapons of our fleet and the violence of the storm, it's unlikely any of our shots will reach the ground."

Durge took a deep breath. He didn't actually need to, but it made him look like he was calming down, and he'd gotten into the habit of doing it over the centuries.

"Then we will land on the planet and deal with these invaders face-to-face," he declared, catching sight of Grice looking at him, startled. "Send a message to every ship to start dropping their forces around the storm."

"All of them, sir ?"

"Yes, all of them !" roared Durge. "Or do you still believe we can win against Cain by holding anything back ?"

"I-I …"

"Because if you do, then you clearly are a fool. And Marlo has no use for fools."

Durge held the wretch in place with his gaze for a few more seconds, then turned aside and let him collapse on the deck, breathing heavily. He really, really wanted to crush the idiot's skull, but that would delay the attack, and things were already going to be complicated enough.

"Once the ground attack is underway, you will need to keep all the ships right above that storm," he told Grice.

"Why ?" replied the Hutt. "Concentrating the fleet in one spot is far from conventional strategy, and for very good reasons."

"If the Sith had any ships left in the void, I'd agree with you," Durge explained, forcing himself to stay calm. Grice's question was perfectly reasonable, especially given he didn't have any practical experience when it came to military affairs. "But everything they've got is on the planet, and based on Marlo's intel, the few ships they kept in reserve in Tatooine and Perlia are far too few to be a threat if they jump in behind our back. Meanwhile, when we win on the ground, the Sith might use the storm as cover to punch back out into the void."

"I see," mused the Hutt. "You're right. And besides, whatever they're doing to cause that storm, they can't possibly keep it up forever. When it stops, we'll want our ships in position to start providing orbital support immediately."

Of course, Durge fully expected that their forces would be fully enmeshed with the Sith troops by that point, and orbital fire would likely get as many of their own men as the enemy's. But the Gen'Dai bounty hunter didn't care about that, and clearly neither did Grice – nor, come to think of it, did the pirates themselves, who would all too happily open fire on their own 'comrades' to get a bigger share of their warband's paycheck.

Oh, and Durge himself would be on the planet as part of the assault, obviously, but if a little something like an orbital barrage could kill him, he would've died long, long ago.

Despite everything, the Gen'Dai smiled under his helmet. Finally, they were going to get to the good part. It'd been far too long since he'd last killed a Sith.

---

Iskandar Khayon exulted in the power that coursed through him and the other acolytes as they pooled their strength and summoned the storm. The pureblood was strong in the Force, stronger than any of his peers (including Nefertari, though she was always quick to remind him she surpassed him in other areas), but this was something else entirely.

At their call, a great sandstorm engulfed the desert, blocking the light of the sun and making visibility beyond a handful of meters a myth. Great arcs of lightning illuminated the storm, causing further interference for any scanners trying to get a read from orbit.

It was a vision straight out of myth, and if not for the rebreathers Darth Cain had ordered distributed to everyone, the expedition forces would have been crippled. As it was, Commander Broklaw's people were struggling to finish setting up the prefabricated fortifications.

Between the sheer mass of sand in the air and the Dark Side sorcery empowering the tempest, any orbital bombardment would lose its strength long before it reached the surface. In one move, they had effectively created a massive shield and turned their surroundings into a nightmarish battleground, where the advantages of the advanced equipment of the soldiers and the preternatural perceptions of the Sith would be multiplied.

It was fortunate (but, Iskandar knew, not a coincidence) that they were thousands of kilometers from the closest settlement, and even then, the knock-on effect on weather patterns was going to be brutal. Now that the ritual was performed, the storm was self-sustaining : it would last for days, drawing on the savage energies of the battle to come and those of the planet itself.

For generations, the people of Savareen had suffered under the boot of one gang or another, all ultimately paying tribute to the Hutt Cartels. Centuries of oppression and depredations had bled into the Force, and with the assistance of the other acolytes, Iskandar had been able to reach out to that reservoir of Dark Side power and bring it forth.

The Cartel forces in orbit could simply wait them out, of course. But Iskandar knew they wouldn't, just like Darth Cain had known it. Their overlords wouldn't allow it : after Darth Cain's display of sorcery, they'd be too afraid of leaving the Lord of Terror time to plan. And the beauty of it was, they were right : if they waited for the storm to pass, Darth Cain would recover from his efforts and unleash his aura of terror again, and again, and again, until the raiders were too traumatized to stay in the same star system as the Sith Lord.

Admittedly, their chances of success weren't much higher on the ground, but they didn't know that for certain, not with how much had been forgotten of the Sith Empire's might.

Already, Iskandar could feel the raiders' transports descending upon Savareen, their tiny minds shining with fear, anger and greed. They were landing far beyond the edges of the storm and, judging by their movements, boarding speeders and other vehicles to cover the rest of the distance.

He couldn't read their thoughts from so far away, but he could easily imagine them. They had felt the touch of Darth Cain's power, witnessed how easily a true Sith Lord could send them running like scared children, and now they were moving against him once more, except this time without unfathomable stretches of empty space between them and him, and with an ominous, entirely unnatural-looking storm raging overhead.

Ever since they'd heard that the Sith had returned, Iskandar had no doubt horror stories had circulated among them, as was always the way of such low-lives. But the promise of Hutt coin, and the threat of the Cartels' retribution, was motivating them to advance anyway. He could feel the cracks in what passed for their morale, and knew that if he could detect them, then Darth Cain definitely could.

Oh, yes, Iskandar thought, smiling under his rebreather, grains of sand whipping at his exposed skin. This was going to be glorious.

Notes:

AN : Well, the Muse wants what it wants - plus, teasing you about Anakin was cruel.

Speaking of Obi-Wan's favorite Padawan, the song Anakin sings is from Fireborn, by JT Music (you can find it on YT). If you find him being able to fix the hyperdrive too powerful, remember all the crazy stuff Anakin does in canon : there's a reason he's the Chosen One. Also, the Sith engineers did a lot of prep work.

One thing I thought about while writing this chapter is comparative power levels. Cain and Amberley, for instance, are more personally powerful in DCRSL than in 40K. Admittedly, Jedi!Amberley doesn't have the same level of influence as Inquisitor!Amberley, but when it comes to raw power, Jedi!Amberley has the edge.

Erebus is a bit more complicated, but on the whole, I'd say Sith!Erebus and 40K!Erebus were more or less equal. Sure, Sith!Erebus didn't get to frak up the entire galaxy and ruin everything for everyone, but that's because he didn't have the same Plot Armor as 40K!Erebus. In terms of martial and sorcerous feats, the two are in the same court.

No, the one character who got shafted by the passage to Star Wars is Iskandar. 40K!Iskandar is said to be the second-most-powerful Sorcerer to be born from the line of Magnus, right behind Ahriman himself, and the feats we see him performing in the two books of the Black Legion series are truly impressive, and make Acolyte!Iskandar's little ritual look like a cheap trick.

Although at least Acolyte!Iskandar can rest easy knowing that his boss won't send him unarmed to be taken prisoner by their sworn enemies as part of some long-term plot. You lose some, you win some, I guess.

Next up : the Battle of Savareen, between the Sith forces of Darth Cain and the mercenaries of the Hutt Cartels, fought amidst a sand-and-lightning storm (don't think too hard about the physics, I remembered the scene from Fury Road and decided Dark Side sorcery was too good an excuse to pass up).

Zahariel out.

Chapter 10: Scourging

If not for my Force sensitivity, I wouldn't have had any idea the Cartel mercenaries were approaching, charging blindly into the great tempest my acolytes had summoned in a display of tactical stupidity I could only attribute to whatever threats their commanders had made. There was no denying that Iskandar and the others had done an admirable job : I could barely see further than my own nose, and my ears were full of the sound of the screaming winds and the thunderous sound of bolts of lightning falling from the sky, melting the sand where they hit and leaving patches of fulgurite behind.

As the inevitable violence crept closer and closer to actuality, I felt the Dark Side wrapping itself around me, whispering, pleading, threatening, begging. Erebus had told me it was alive and sentient, a god we must honour with our actions in order to be rewarded with power.

But then, Erebus had told me a lot of things, like that the Emperor was the incarnation of the Dark Side, and we should be honored to follow his every command. And, ever since I had crawled away from my final confrontation with my Master, I had held to the principle that doing the opposite of whatever the Vile One would have done in any given situation was a good rule of thumb.

I didn't know whether Erebus had been right in how he'd described the Dark Side, or if it was more like Amberley had told me the Jedi thought of it : a corruption of the Force, created by the evil deeds of countless sentients across the ages. I thought it more likely that the truth laid somewhere in between or beyond any of us mere mortals. In the end, though, it didn't really matter. The Dark Side was real, and it was reacting to what was happening and would soon happen on Savareen.

"I give you nothing," I said softly, confident that the noise of the storm would drown out my words so that nobody would hear me talking to myself and start thinking I was going crazy. JURG-N would hear, of course, but I trusted him not to say anything about it.

"Nothing but this moment," I continued, feeling what I could only describe as the weight of the Dark Side's attention. "The galaxy has forgotten the power of the Dark Side; forgotten the power of the Sith. Both have become little more than legends. Here and now, this will change. Here and now, the galaxy will be reminded of our true might."

"This, I give you, and nothing more, for the blood we spill here is our own," I finished, and the Dark Side shifted in response to my not-quite-prayer. It didn't turn its gaze completely away from me, but I felt its attention partially move to the other Sith standing in the storm, impatiently waiting for the enemy to get close enough.

Good. The Republic already wasn't going to be happy about this : I would much rather avoid accidentally turning this whole battle into a blood sacrifice to the Dark Side of the Force. And besides, in my experience, those never ended well for anyone involved, no matter which side of the knife they started on.

In the last seconds before the blasters started firing, I closed my eyes, and drew on the Force to renew my strength as much as I could. Then I felt it : that unmistakable change in the air that told me that the battle had begun. In the distance, I heard Iskandar scream something, but I couldn't decipher the words.

"Let's go, JURG-N," I told my aide.

"Right behind you, sire," he replied, and we marched forth together.

---

The Gamorrean was no one important. He was just one more raider in one more warband which had heeded the call of Marlo the Hutt after their leader (who had been shot during the panic in the void by nobody willing to step forward and claim the kill) had been tempted by one of the Cartels' recruiters.

In the three decades since leaving his homeworld behind, the Gamorrean had stolen, killed, tortured and enslaved, for pleasure, sport and profit : just one more cog in the great machine of crime which crushed the Outer Rim, extracting wealth from the suffering and misery of billions of sentients.

Even so, he didn't want to be on Savareen. Sure, he was pissed at Cain for making him feel terrified using his Force magic, but not enough to want to go anywhere near the Sith. But the warband's ship had been too close to the Hutta's Magnificence to make a run for it when the orders had come, and maybe dying on the planet beat certainly dying in the void.

The speeders had stopped working five minutes inside the storm, their engines clogged by sand. The Gamorrean had seen several other machines catch fire and explode as their pilots tried to keep going, but thankfully their own driver was smarter than that and stopped them in time, even if it meant they had to go the rest of the way on foot.

Within five minutes, he'd lost sight of the rest of his team. Within ten, he wasn't even sure he was going in the right direction and hadn't gotten turned around at some point. The sand and the lightning made it impossible to see, and there was so much static in the air comms were down as well.

But he didn't think staying in one place and being buried under the sand was a good idea, so he kept moving in the direction he was mostly sure was the enemy's. He couldn't tell how long he walked, every step forcing him to use his powerful musculature to pull his feet up.

Then he heard a voice, a scream, so loud that it made the ground beneath his boots quake and made him shake inside his armor :

"WE ARE RETURNED !"

He raised his vibro-halberd in front of him, clutching it nervously, eyes darting in a vain attempt to pierce the storm. That voice hadn't sounded like it belonged to any sentient species he knew of, and he was reminded of the monsters that he'd seen rampaging across the ship. He knew, now, that they hadn't been real, but they'd certainly felt real at the time and –

A figure emerged from the storm right in front of him. His blood running cold, the Gamorrean squinted, then grunted in relief. This wasn't Cain, nor any of the crazy soldiers and Mandalorians he'd brought with him. This was just a Twi'lek girl, less than a fifth of his weight. He could deal with her easily, just like he'd dealt with the girls he'd taken during his previous trips on Savareen, when he and the rest of the warband had come down to find some amusement during the waiting for the muster to be complete –

The Gamorrean squealed as the first red lightsaber cut him open throat to groin, before going silent as the second cut his head off.

---

Nefertari kicked the pig's head away, and it disappeared into the storm. Then she turned off her twin lightsabers, clipped them to her belt, and started prowling again, moving across the sand with feather-light steps.

The sandstorm had dramatically altered the battlefield. Not only did anyone who needed to breathe air have to wear a rebreather or choke on sand, not only could nobody see any further than a few meters, the range of blaster fire was severely limited, as you couldn't fire a weapon without the shot hitting innumerable grains of sand, losing its energy pretty fast. In addition, the howling winds and near-constant booms of thunder meant you could barely hear the voices screaming in your comlink.

In other words, the perfect hunting ground for a group of Sith, and Nefertari was taking full advantage of that opportunity to vent some of the anger that forever boiled within her heart.

Nefertari knew what others saw when they looked at her. Just another Twi'lek, another dancer, another slave girl, her beauty the only thing of worth about her. She hated that, and always had, all the way back to the dirty streets where she'd run as a child, before being captured by the Sith 'recruiters' and shipped off to Korriban. One of the reasons she tolerated Iskandar as much as she did was that, for all his arrogance, the pureblood had never regarded her as anything else than a true rival. All the way back to the Academy, he'd sensed her potential and regarded her as a threat, before circumstances had forced them to work together to survive.

She had heard the words of the Lord of Terror before the battle began, carried through the storm to every acolyte by the power of the Dark Side in a casual display of mastery which had sent shivers down her spine. They had been a poignant reminder of just why the young Sith followed Cain, even now, in a galaxy that had largely forgotten them and in which they could all become warlords in their own right if they split up from Perlia.

Darth Cain was the quintessential Sith : a being who forged his own path, who let nothing and no one – not the Vile One, not the Dark Council, not the Emperor, not even the Dark Side itself – dictate his actions. He chose his own course based on his own convictions, and woe betide any who dared to stand in his way. For now, Nefertari could only dream of such power and self-confidence.

But, one day, oh, one day.

"OH, WHAT A DAY !" bellowed someone to her right, loud enough to be heard even over the screams of the storm. "WHAT A LOVELY DAY !"

Nefertari sighed as she recognized the voice of that madman Nux. At some point during his training at the Academy, the Rattataki male had fallen apart like so many students did, but instead of taking his own life, he had sworn to die in glorious battle. The cruel joke of it was that he was terrible at it – not the battle part, Nefertari had to grudgingly admit, but the dying part.

Since escaping Korriban, Nux had been shot, stabbed, poisoned, infected with a flesh-eating disease bred by a mad Sith Lord, crashed a speeder into the side of a tank – twice – and fallen from more cliffs than the Twi'lek cared to remember. And yet, he was still there, proudly displaying the scars of each of his near-death experiences as he searched for another suitably impressive way to get himself killed.

Whether the Force loved or hated Nux was hotly debated among the acolytes. Nux himself was too insane to care, and was kept in check from going too crazy outside of battles only by his respect for Iskandar and Darth Cain – the former because he had helped him escape what he saw as a bad death on Korriban, and the latter because he provided so many opportunities for a glorious end.

A brief opening in the storm let Nefertari watch as Nux charged a squad of eleven raiders of various species, who had somehow managed to stay together in the storm. The first two died before they even realized they were under attack, the next three barely had time to bring their weapons to bear – but the remaining six did have time to open fire. Blaster bolts flew toward the mad acolyte, who didn't even bother trying to dodge or parry them. More than half of them missed their mark, and the rest slammed into the bodyglove Nux wore, leaving obvious burns where they'd pierced through the fabric and into the Rattataki's skin – but Nux didn't slow down, didn't even appear to feel the wounds.

Within a few more seconds, what could generously be called a fight was over, and the last of the raiders was dead. Nefertari was about to turn away from the mad acolyte and go looking for more prey herself when she felt the approach of something large, something which screamed of threat to her senses. Her lightsabers flew to her hands as she looked around, searching for the source of the premonition – and then she saw it.

Nux went flying as a mass of tentacles smashed into his side. Had it been anyone else in his place, Nefertari would have assumed them dead on the spot, but the Rattataki had survived much, much worse than that. She didn't have the time to look at him, however, as her focus was entirely on the sentient who had dispatched him so swiftly.

Nefertari had never met a creature like this before, but she recognized it from her studies in xenobiology, and she cursed. A Gen'Dai. Darth Cain had warned them about the presence of such a being among the enemy during their descent to Savareen's surface.

The Twi'lek acolyte had fought and slain many enemies in her life. But, much to her frustration, she wasn't sure she could defeat such a creature. Her speed and skill with a lightsaber wouldn't amount for much against something with practically limitless endurance, and which could regenerate from pretty much anything.

The Gen'Dai didn't seem to have noticed her yet. She could get away, escape into the storm, but the thought of running from any challenge was abhorrent to her, even though she knew it was the right move. She wasted precious seconds hesitating like this, until the alien took the choice out of her hands :

"CAIN !" roared the monster. "CAIN ! COME AND FACE ME !"

Nefertari felt the cold before she registered the presence of her lord. The temperature had decreased since the storm had blocked the sun, but now ice was forming on the ground, creating strange shapes as it rose up the twisting sand, freezing tendrils of grains in place.

"Cease this unsightly tantrum, Durge," said a voice that cut through the noise of the storm like a vibroblade through flesh. "I am here."

The storm parted before the Lord of Terror, pushed away by the invisible force field of his indomitable will. He walked with the calm of someone strolling through a garden party instead of trudging through the sand in the middle of a chaotic battle, and hadn't even drawn his lightsaber. JURG-N walked besides him, weapons glowing hot with the energy of numerous discharges, each of which Nefertari didn't doubt for a second had hit their marks.

Nefertari grinned, even as she swiftly moved away from the incoming confrontation. It had been too long since she'd gotten a chance to watch Darth Cain in action with her own eyes, and she'd learned something new every single time.

"I will give you one last chance to surrender, Durge," said Cain. "Throw down your weapons, and you will live to see the end of the Hutt Cartels."

The Gen'Dai – Durge, apparently, who must have some important position in the enemy forces for the Sith Lord to have bothered learning his name – laughed.

"Not once in my life have I surrendered, Sith," he boasted. "I won't start now."

"Then you will die," replied the Lord of Terror, and his lightsaber ignited.

---

I really didn't want to fight an enraged Gen'Dai, especially one who seemed to have a personal grudge against me for some unfathomable reason. But Nux had landed right next to me after his brief flight, and if I had turned and left, he would have seen it. Given everything the Rattataki had survived so far, I found it hard to believe that this skirmish on a random planet was what would finally do him in.

And if he survived, as seemed likely, then his testimony would hurt my reputation greatly. Which would be fine in principle, but unfortunately I relied too heavily on that miserable pile of lies, misunderstandings and half-truths to let that happen.

In the long run, it was much safer for me to confront Durge than lose the respect of the maniacs under my command by running away. I hated how frequent that kind of calculus had become in my life, but there was nothing to do for it.

Having resigned myself to the inevitable, I considered my options. None of JURG-N's weapons could inflict any real harm on Durge. At best, my droid aide could provide a temporary distraction before the bounty hunter smashed him to pieces. He could be repaired, of course, as had happened too many times for my tastes already, but I refused to inflict that upon him for such paltry gains.

Of course, I knew him well enough to realize that, if I told him that openly, I would spend the next month or so facing passive-aggressive bullshit from him.

"JURG-N, make sure we aren't disturbed," I told him instead as I forced myself to walk toward Durge, pushing my rising terror into the Force and disrupting Savareen's poor climate even further as spikes of ice began to grow all around us.

"As you wish, sir," replied my aide, and I suppressed a wince at his tone, knowing I hadn't completely hidden my true reason for the order from him.

Oh well. That was a problem for my future self, and since the lucky bastard wouldn't have to deal with Durge, I was fine with kicking that particular thermal detonator down the road.

Given their entirely understandable grudge against the Empire for the destruction of their homeworld, many of the Gen'Dai survivors had spent decades fighting the Sith wherever they could. As a prominent Imperial figure, that meant I had ended up in the crosshairs of that particular bunch of alien killing machines far too many times for my liking (the ideal number of times being, of course, zero).

I didn't even bother trying to frighten Durge with my aura of dread. While he wouldn't be completely immune to it, even with his Gen'Dai physiology making him feel emotions in an entirely different way than I, it wouldn't make enough of a difference to be worth the effort, and I needed all of my focus to stay alive in any case.

Even boosting my body with the Force, I felt the shock reverberate through my bones as I turned the first blow aside. Durge wasn't holding anything back, coming at me with killing intent from the very start. Someone else might have considered it a sign of respect that he wasn't bothering to try to play with me, but I myself had always enjoyed having my foes underestimate me, even if it had been a long time since it had happened – with someone other than Vitiate, at least, although given the bastard's power compared to mine, whether he'd actually underestimated me or had been right to consider me beneath him was a question best left to philosophers.

As I dodged around Durge's attacks, I struck back with my lightsaber, again and again. Most of my blows landed, thanks to Durge not even bothering to block them. A few were turned aside by his armor – either he'd invested in something capable of withstanding a lightsaber when accepting this job, or his armor was a leftover from his alleged time fighting in the New Sith Wars.

As for the few hits that pierced through the armor, they did little beyond inflict pain – and no Gen'Dai would be undone by something as small as that. After a few exchanges, it was clear that the damage I was inflicting wasn't outpacing Durge's natural healing. But I knew there were limits to a Gen'Dai's regeneration, and as we fought on, a plan began to form in my mind, panic coming to my aid as it always did in the thick of battle to find a way out, no matter how risky.

I dodged Durge's latest strike with a Force-assisted leap backward. As soon as I had landed, I stamped my foot onto the ground, and a path of ice snaked across the sand toward Durge at lightning speed, erupting into a cluster of frozen crystals that caught him just as he was about to lunge at me and holding him in place. I knew this wouldn't last long : the sudden thermal shock had sapped his strength for now, but he would adapt to it in a few seconds and break free.

But those few seconds were all I needed. I raised my left hand into the air, still holding my lightsaber in my right, and reached out with the Force, to the vast energies gathered in the storm around and above us. Force Lightning crackled between my fingers, establishing a symbolic connection between my hand and the raging storm.

As above, so below. As rituals went, it was a very basic one, made possible only by the hard work Iskandar and the others had already put in, but it should do the job.

With a wordless scream, I bent my body and slammed my open palm down, and several bolts of Force-infused lightning came down, striking the frozen form of Durge at the exact same time. I had to use the Force to anchor myself in place and keep from being sent flying by the strength of the resulting explosion, as well as to prevent any flying debris from skewering me.

When my vision cleared from the flash, there was nothing left where Durge had stood but a patch of ash and fulgurite, and a few scorched and heat-warped pieces of armor. That was it : even a Gen'Dai couldn't come back from that. I suppressed a brief flare of shame at the thought of having pushed the species even closer to extinction : he'd tried to kill me first, and had rejected all my attempts to get him to stop.

"Nicely done, sir," said JURG-N, appearing at my side as if out of thin air. Judging by the heat coming off his weapons, he'd needed to shoot a few fools to make sure nobody interfered : I could only hope that had taken the edge off his annoyance with me.

"Thank you, JURG-N," I breathed deeply despite the annoyance of the rebreather, forcing my racing heart to calm down.

"Now, then," I continued with forced insouciance. "Let's see if we can't find an actual challenge before the battle's end."

---

Jenit Sulla was grinning like a loon under her helmet. Darth Cain really brought them to the nicest places, she reflected as she set another bunch of mercenaries on fire with her wrist-mounted flamethrower. This wasn't the best one, but only because the competition was so severe.

Thanks to the advanced tech inside her helmet (which she'd scavenged from a Republic research facility she'd raided during the Second Great War), Sulla was able to keep an eye on the overall progression of the battle as a whole. Predictably, they were winning – in her opinion, that hadn't ever been in question. The fighters the Cartels had gathered in Savareen were thugs, pirates and mercenaries more used to roughing up civilians and raiding trade hyperlanes than facing actual, properly trained soldiers. Sure, they might have some experience going up against rival warbands, but that didn't amount to much when faced with the likes of Darth Cain's chosen elite.

Broklaw's soldiers had stopped firing from behind their fortified positions and were marching out in squads, keeping close to avoid losing each other. Although they were massively outnumbered, the complete dissolution of the enemy's order of battle meant that, more often than not, the Sith troopers had the numerical advantage in every engagement – which really was overkill at this point.

Sulla herself had let her Mandalorians slip the leash and hunt as they pleased, like the Sith acolytes. With their jetpacks, they could move far more freely than anyone else in this glorious, gory mess of a battle, which gave them plenty of opportunities to pursue their own glory.

She'd have to look into recruitment at some point, she knew. Her warband had always been small : following Darth Cain around meant they couldn't afford to bring younglings along, but there'd always been Mandalorians willing to join to replace the losses they'd taken, since every single one of her warriors had met an end most worthy of song. But things had changed in this new, strange galaxy they found themselves in.

The once-mighty Mandalorian Clans had been reduced to a shadow of their former selves, exhausted by centuries of war against the Republic and each other. Sulla's research in the matter was limited to what she could find on the Holonet, and she wasn't sure how much she trusted the sources she could find, since most of them were from the Republic, but it seemed that the current regime of Mandalore was headed by a pacifist of all things.

When she'd first heard about this, she had lost herself into a drunken stupor, which dear Trevellyan had pulled her from before explaining to her that of course Mandalorian culture had changed since her time. Really, it would have been worrying if it hadn't – if the descendants of her people, both by blood and adoption, had remained the same throughout three and a half thousand years, it would have implied a calcification of their ways which would have been worse than death.

Sulla wasn't sure whether she approved of the current path of the Mandalorians, but until she could visit Mandalore and see it with her own eyes, she reserved her judgment – and she fiercely ignored that nagging doubt in her head which was telling her she was only deceiving herself, ignoring the truth to shield herself from disappointment. Besides, the Mandalorians had still been fighting a war a mere couple decades ago, so clearly the warrior blood and principles of old hadn't been lost yet.

Suddenly, there was a big flash of lightning in the distance to her right, followed by the shockwave of a huge explosion a few seconds later. Her guess was that was where Cain was, casually bending the forces of the universe to his will in order to wreak destruction on his foes once more.

Distracted from her morose thoughts, Sulla plunged on another bunch of raiders, blasting as she came. None of this lot were worthy of joining her warband, that was for sure, but maybe some of the freed slaves on Perlia would be – she'd have to check once they were back.

Now that the war against the Hutt Cartels was in full swing, she'd a feeling they wouldn't lack for enthusiastic volunteers. But, for now, it was time to finish breaking the will of this particular horde of morons.

---

Victory was in their grasp.

Commander Ruput Broklaw, chief executive officer of the Imperial Army forces under Darth Cain (a rank which didn't technically exist, but nobody had said so to the Lord of Terror), knew this to be true in his bones as he gunned down another mercenary trying to run from the Sith with his blaster. He couldn't get in touch with any of his troops beyond his immediate vicinity due to the storm, but his every instinct was telling him this battle was over but for the clean-up.

Broklaw wasn't a Force-sensitive : like every Human Imperial citizen, he'd been subjected to rigorous testing in his youth, and had come out of the tests with a definite negative on his file. At the time, he'd been disappointed, and hadn't understood why his parents had seemed so relieved at the news. Fifty years later, he understood them a lot better.

If he'd been Force-sensitive, he would've been taken to be trained as a Sith, and odds were they would never have seen him again. They would've given him up if needed, of course : Broklaw's family had been proud, law-abiding Imperials. But they had heard the rumors about the training methods of the Sith, about how only a fraction of the aspiring students ever made it out alive, and – perhaps most importantly – how those who made it through were irreversibly changed by the experience.

Having fought alongside several Sith Lords during his service, Broklaw could say with confidence that the stories were only a pale shadow of the truth, no doubt the result of Imperial Intelligence's constant efforts to play down the truth. Most Sith were cruel, vicious, spiteful, and worse of all, capricious. Broklaw had long ago lost count of how many battles had been lost that could've been won, if only the Sith in charge hadn't done something stupid like, say, broadcast the screams of tortured Republic prisoners on open frequencies, pushing their comrades to fight harder than ever before.

The Sith who could suppress these self-sabotaging tendencies were generally the most dangerous, but even they were still a nightmare to work with for a variety of reasons. And then, of course, there were the kriffers like Erebus, who combined the worst of both options.

When Broklaw's unit had been transferred to Darth Erebus' command, Broklaw had been horrified. He'd heard the stories about the Vile One – everyone had. They'd actually needed to put down a mutiny when a bunch of the troopers, soldiers whose courage and loyalty to the Empire Broklaw knew and respected, had decided that desertion was preferable to participating in Darth Erebus' atrocities.

They had all been executed, of course, which had probably been what they had expected and hoped for all along – and that made the fact Darth Erebus had mysteriously disappeared before Broklaw's unit had even seen the bastard tragically, painfully ironic. Instead, they'd gotten the newly-promoted Darth Cain, who couldn't have been more different from his late and unlamented Master if he'd tried. Or, well, tried harder, because Broklaw was quietly certain nobody in the galaxy had hated Erebus more than Cain, despite the competition being severe.

Since then, Broklaw had been honored to fight under the Lord of Terror as he carved his way through the galaxy, moving from triumph to triumph. He'd risen through the ranks quickly, and eventually ended up as the not-quite-Moff in charge of the military forces assigned to Darth Cain by the time he'd escorted his lord to speak with the Eternal Throne's envoy; a meeting which would change the course of galactic history, by eventually leading to Lady Vaylin deserting Zakuul to become Darth Cain's apprentice.

Cain's Legion, they'd been called back then in the Imperial propaganda holos and the Republic's news reports alike. At its peak, it had counted over one hundred thousands of the toughest men and women of the entire Empire, led by one of its mightiest Sith Lords. Five divisions' worth of soldiers, with the best training and equipment the Lord of Terror could get for them.

Though it sounded impressive on paper, on the galactic scale, it was a small number, nothing compared to the millions-strong armies the combatants of the Great War had thrown at each other, but they had left their mark in the history books long before the Invincible had begun striking fear into the hearts of Navy personnel everywhere.

So, really, fighting this rabble the Hutts had put together was beneath them. Broklaw could only hope the Cartels would find some proper fighters to throw at them eventually : otherwise, this war Lady Vaylin had started was going to be dreadfully boring.

The storm had been a surprise. Darth Cain had obviously planned it all along, since he'd made sure everyone was carrying a rebreather, but it had been some time since the Lord of Terror had used a large-scale Force ritual like this. Most often, his aura of fear was more than enough for the Legion to gain the advantage.

In Broklaw's opinion, there were probably some politics involved. The ritual was a demonstration of the power of the Sith, which the galaxy had forgotten in the last thousand years. And the fact it was used against the Hutt Cartels in the name of ending slavery ensured that the Republic would stay divided on how to respond.

Truly, Broklaw reflected, Darth Cain was a master manipulator as well as warrior.

---

As more and more time passed without any word from the forces deployed on Savareen, Grice was growing more and more nervous. It had been three hours now : they should have heard something back by now. Even in the worst-case scenario of a complete defeat, they should have seen the survivors fleeing back to their ships in orbit, but so far, nothing and no one had escaped the sandstorm that was now covering a sizeable portion of a continental landmass.

"Uhm, Captain ?" called out one of the bridge officer, sounding nervous under the veneer of practiced calm. "We're getting some strange readings of the sensors."

Slowly – It wouldn't do to show worry to his lessers – Grice turned his eyes to the officer, and gestured for him to continue.

"We are detecting a hyperspace disruption approaching, captain," he explained. "It looks like a single ship approaching the system, but the numbers are … well, they're all wrong."

"How so ?" Grice spoke in Huttese (a language spoken by every bridge crew as a matter of course).

"They're too big. Nothing in the galaxy has the kind of displacement we're reading, at least not with those energy signatures. The only ship I can think of that would match them would be …"

The officer trailed off, too afraid to give voice to his guess, but Grice didn't need him to. His mind had already reached the same conclusion – but no. No, it couldn't be. Marlo's intelligence had been clear, and if it were wrong, then surely the Sith would've brought it with them in the first wave.

Unless, the paranoid voice that lived in the head of every Hutt who survived long enough to reach adulthood in the Cartels, that had all been part of Darth Cain's plan from the beginning. To wound them in space with his sorcery before drawing them on the planet by using himself as bait under the cover of the storm, while their ships were all gathered in one place, too close to a planet to escape quickly into hyperspace …

Grice opened his mouth – to say what, he didn't know. But before he could speak, the bridge was filled with the sound of klaxons and alarms, and all he could do was stare in shock and terror as a new silhouette appeared on the system holomap – one which was familiar to every sentient in the galaxy with access to the Holonet.

The Invincible had come to Savareen.

---

The Invincible exited hyperspace, and a cheer of joy, relief, and what Obi-Wan was distressingly certain was bloodthirsty anticipation rose on the bridge for a moment, before being silenced by a gesture of Commodore Kasteen.

"No temporal anomalies detected, Commodore," reported one of the officers, causing a second, smaller cheer. "We maintained synchronicity during transit within measurable deviation."

That had been the fear on everyone's mind, Obi-Wan very much included. Sure, the Invincible's engineers had assured everyone they weren't going to skip forward through time again, but presumably they had thought the same during the superdreadnought's last voyage. The thought of finding himself centuries, even millennia in the future had strained his ability to remain calm under pressure. As a result, he'd spent most of the trip in the quarters Commodore Kasteen had granted him and Master Plo Koon, trying to meditate despite the Dark Side which seemed to suffuse the entire vessel.

Next to him, Master Plo Koon looked far more at ease, though even he couldn't be called relaxed. Like Obi-Wan, the Kel Dor had rushed to the Invincible once they'd received word that Anakin had (somehow) made his way on the ship and was (again, somehow) fixing the superdreadnought's hyperdrive, only to find himself stuck aboard as the ship left Perlia for Savareen. Technically speaking, the two Jedi could have left on a transport right before departure, but the only thing worse than being there on the Invincible's first hyperspace journey in the current era was not being there for it.

"Find out where Teacher is," snarled Vaylin from where she sat on the bridge's central throne. With any other Sith apprentice, Obi-Wan was fairly sure her sitting on it would have been a sign of her plotting betrayal and usurpation of her Master, but with Vaylin, it reminded him more of a child clutching to something which reminded them of an absent parent. "Quickly !"

The crew of the Invincible went to work with smooth efficiency, and soon a picture of the situation in Savareen began to emerge. All the information collected by the ship's many sensors was being collated on various holo displays hovering in front of where Commodore Kasteen stood, which Obi-Wan and the others could read over her shoulder.

It was clear that a battle had happened in the system recently. The husks of several ships drifted in the void, but to Obi-Wan's eyes, they didn't look like they'd been disabled in a void engagement : instead, they seemed to have fallen to sabotage or accident. The Jedi Knight assumed these were the result of Darth Cain unleashing his aura of terror on the enemy fleet.

And speaking of the enemy fleet, it was gathered right above Savareen, all packed together into what was, in space warfare, extremely close proximity.

"We appear to have caught them completely by surprise," reported someone. "Their shields are up and weapons active, but all their attention is either on the planet itself or on each other."

The reason for the raider ships' distraction was obvious : there was a massive sandstorm on the planet, right beneath the Hutt fleet. Even standing in the shadow of the Invincible's and Lady Vaylin's presence, Obi-Wan could sense the Force at work within the tempest. It was no natural storm, that much was obvious, though Obi-Wan felt faint as he tried to imagine the kind of power required to create such a thing.

"Now we know where Darth Cain is," noted Kasteen.

"Yes," agreed Vaylin, relaxing a little. "I can feel him. He's in that storm." Then her expression darkened. "And those ships are in the way."

Obi-Wan wasn't a master of void warfare, but he didn't need to be to realize what the positioning of the Hutt armada signified. Next to him, Master Plo Koon, who was as close to such an expert as the Jedi Order could claim to possess thanks to his experience in the Stark Hyperspace War, tensed as he came to the same realization.

"We should kill them all," hissed Vaylin.

Obi-Wan suppressed a wince, both at her words and at the sudden spike in the Force they had caused.

"That is certainly an option available to us, but Darth Cain ordered us to give the pirates laying waste to Perlia itself a chance to surrender and ten minutes to comply," replied the Commodore. "You know he would want us to do the same here. And besides, we'll need every ship we can get to continue our war against the Cartels."

Vaylin briefly glared at the Commodore, who held her gaze with commendable aplomb, before turning aside and nodding. It looked like nothing more than a teenager grumpy at being told no by an authority figure, which would've been somewhat amusing if not for the small detail that Cain's apprentice was quite possibly the most powerful Force user in the galaxy. Also, there was the fact that, according to the Jedi archives, Vaylin was older than that, and her not immediately murdering Kasteen for talking back to her was apparently a great step up from how she'd behaved in her time as one of the leaders of the Eternal Throne of Zakuul.

The thought of Darth Cain getting his hands on a bunch more ships right after his flagship had been repaired wasn't one Obi-Wan enjoyed, but given the alternative was to stand there and watch as the Invincible mercilessly obliterated the pirate armada in what would clearly be a one-sided carnage, he remained silent.

"Put me on an open broadcast," Kasteen ordered one of her officers. Seconds later, the channel was opened, and she started speaking, her Basic edged with that crisp accent Obi-Wan had started to associate with the members of the fallen Sith Empire :

"Minions of the Hutts, I am Commodore Kasteen of the Invincible. Your masters told you this ship was disabled, yet as you can see, it is fully operational. I shall give you all the same warning that was given to the scum who dared defile Perlia with their presence : power down your weapons, shields and engines, and you will live to be judged for your crimes. Try to fight or flee, and you will be destroyed. You have ten minutes to comply."

She gestured, and the link was cut.

"Start deploying the fighters," she ordered. "Make sure none of them can make a break for it, and prepare a firing solution for the main gun for the largest ships in that fleet in case we need to make an example."

"What do you intend to do with those who surrender ?" asked Plo Koon cautiously.

"The same thing we did at Perlia and Tatooine, I expect," replied the Sith Commodore. "Deliver them to the local civilian authorities for trial."

Obi-Wan had looked into that during his time on the planet. Of the thousands of raiders who'd been captured when Varan's fleet had been dismantled, a large majority had been sentenced to death under local Perlian law, which was about as harsh as was common in the Rim. The remainder, who hadn't been found to have directly participated in the atrocities inflicted upon the Perlians, had been sentenced to imprisonment and hard labor.

Somehow, the Jedi Knight doubted the courts of Savareen, such as they would be once the local gangs were cleaned out and the people given the chance to organize themselves, would be any more merciful to the raiders who had occupied their system for who knew how long. He couldn't quite find it in himself to feel sorry for them, though.

Before the ten minutes were up, well over four-fifth of the Hutt fleet had signalled their surrender, and the rest had joined the husks drifting in Savareen space. Interestingly, the largest and most powerful Hutt ship, designated Hutta's Magnificence, had been the very first to offer its surrender, the transmission being delivered by a protocol droid Obi-Wan would've sworn sounded terrified.

As the Invincible approached Savareen, disgorging troop transports toward the surrendered vessels, the storm began to fade with a speed Obi-Wan didn't think was natural.

"Ma'am, we're getting a transmission from the surface," called out a bridge officer soon after, face beaming under her mask of discipline. "It's from Darth Cain !"

"Put it on," ordered Vaylin before the Commodore had a chance to say anything.

Wisely, the officer obeyed, and soon the image of Darth Cain appeared above the bridge's main holographic display. The connection was patchy, but the figure of the Sith Lord was unmistakable, even with the rebreather covering the lower half of his face. Obi-Wan couldn't see any trace of injury on Cain, which he had to admit didn't surprise him : if a bunch of Hutt-hired mercenaries were enough to kill him, the Sith Lord wouldn't have made it to the current era.

"Teacher," said Vaylin, smiling widely, the aura of threat she'd been projecting melting away.

"Lord Cain," Kasteen saluted the image of the Lord of Terror.

"Vaylin, Commodore Kasteen," said Cain, looking at each of the two ladies in turn. "I must confess, I'm surprised by your presence. Pleasantly so, of course, but I was given to understand it'd be several months at the very least before the Invincible was fit for travel again. What happened to change that ? I hope you didn't do anything risky to come to my aid. As you can see," he extended his arms, no doubt gesturing to the utter carnage that must be surrounding him outside the projector's field of view, "we managed quite well on our own."

"We had help from Knight Kenobi's Padawan, my lord," explained Kasteen. "He was the one to show the engineers how to fix the hyperdrive with the parts we acquired on Tatooine."

Cain raised an eyebrow, the motion obvious enough to be visible despite the poor connection.

"Young Skywalker ? Really ? … Hmm. I suppose that isn't beyond my expectations; the lad is quite strong in the Force. I'll have to thank him personally for his assistance, then."

Oh, they were going to have fun unpacking that statement and its implications back at the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan could already tell. It was fortunate that Anakin was currently asleep in the infirmary of the Invincible, having collapsed from exhaustion moments after the flagship had entered hyperspace – along with over half the ship's engineering corps, who had all been pushed beyond their limits to finish the repairs as fast as possible.

"I'll make sure he's made aware," said Kasteen. "What are your orders, lord ?"

"What's the situation in the void ? We only just managed to get this comm working."

"The Hutt ships have either surrendered or been destroyed," reported the Commodore. "We are sending troops to seize the bridges of every vessel, and teams of operatives to root through their databanks and gather any intelligence which might be useful in the future."

"Good. I will ask, but I don't think anyone thought to take any prisoners down here. The ships we landed in will need some repairs before they can take off again, though : the storm did a number on them. Send a transport to my location so I can join you aboard, along with medical aid for the wounded. Then we'll start working on actually liberating this planet, now that this little distraction is out of the way."

"As you command, my lord," saluted Kasteen. "The transport will be there promptly."

A 'little distraction'. Force, was he serious ? From anyone else, Obi-Wan would have thought the words a mere jest, but coming from the Lord of Terror, they sounded all too plausible.

Notes:

AN : Congratulations on the comments of the SB thread, who manifested Nux the Sith Acolyte through sheer commitment to the Fury Road references and asking for more information on the other Sith acolytes. I don't expect him to be a recurring character, but we'll see.

As you no doubt anticipated, the Battle of Savareen was a curbstomp. That's what happens when a horde gathered to ransack a planet assumed to be more or less defenceless faces off against a force of trained professionals led by someone who might very well be the single most experienced warlord in the galaxy at the moment, with a cabal of sorcerers and crazy Mandalorians at his side. But don't worry : I'm sure this story will give me plenty of opportunities to write proper fight scenes in the future.

In SWTOR, Gen'Dai can be killed by any Character Class during the Imperial Storyline on Nar Shadda, and by elite Republican soldiers during the Jedi Knight Storyline on Hoth. So, while they are clearly difficult to kill, they aren't invincible to even conventional weapons, so long as you dedicate enough firepower to the task.

For some reason, this story seems to be picking up : I'm getting a lot of emails from ffnet about new people following/favoring it. Which is great, of course, but it does make me curious : where do you come from, new readers ? Were you merely looking for new SW or 40K stories using the website's own search functions, or did you hear about it elsewhere ?

As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts and comments. Also, reminder that this story has a TVTropes page, if you're interested in adding more stuff to it.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 11: Reputation

Aboard the Invincible, Malden and his colleagues were hard at work processing the intelligence extracted from the captured vessels of the Hutt fleet. Most of it was garbage, and some of the material was disturbing enough that even the hardened veterans of Imperial Intelligence would need some time off after reviewing it. But dozens of warbands who'd operated in the Outer Rim for years still had plenty of information in their ships' databanks about the situation in the Outer Rim.

They'd even lucked out and captured the slug assigned to the pirate task force alive for interrogation. Grice the Hutt had been found by a boarding party hiding in his personal chambers aboard the Hutta's Magnificence. The slug had hoped to somehow stay hidden from the Sith, but had surrendered the moment he'd been discovered, promising to tell everything he knew about the Cartels as long as they spared his life. Upon being informed, Darth Cain had given his blessing to the bargain, while warning the Hutt that how comfortable his life would be would depend on how truthful and valuable the information he gave was.

While Grice had only bargained for his life, given their current relationship with the Republic and the Jedi Order, the more brutal interrogation techniques Malden and his peers had been trained to use were off the table. Fortunately, they wouldn't be necessary in this case : Grice had been subjected to the Lord of Terror's power during the first phase of the battle, and that typically made people a lot more willing to talk, so long as it meant they wouldn't be brought before the Sith Lord again. And watching an entire army enter the sandstorm and never come out hadn't hurt, either.

Grice was telling them everything he knew, and the news were mixed. On the one hand, they now had confirmation that the forces Darth Cain's expedition had faced were merely a punishment force, meant to raid Tatooine to show the rest of the Outer Rim what happened to those who defied the Cartels. Given how easily they'd been slaughtered on the planet, Malden would've been surprised if that hadn't been the case : back in the days of the Empire, the warbands of the Outer Rim had been bloodied, cruel, efficient warriors, the kind which numerous Sith Lords had spent fortunes to hire to serve as their private enforcers before going to war with the Republic. The ones the Legion had faced on Savareen had been chaff, with an eye toward quantity rather than quality.

On the other hand, that armada had been gathered by a single member of the Hutt Council, one Marlo the Hutt. The rest of the Cartels had been uninvolved before the Scourging of Savareen, as the troopers were calling the one-sided slaughter that had taken place in the desert. But that was likely to change now that the might of the Sith Army had been displayed and the Invincible was back in action. Given time, the Cartels would overcome their petty feuds, the Hutts' legendary survival instincts driving them to unite against a common threat.

In Malden's professional opinion, they needed to strike while the foe was still off-balance. Liberate other worlds suffering the Cartels' control, while making allies with those in the Outer Rim who had struggled against them for centuries. Count Dooku would be of paramount importance in this : anti-Republic sentiment in the Rim had been growing for generations as a result of neglect from the Core, and if the so-called Separatist Mouvement could be brought into the fold of some sort of anti-Cartels alliance, their industrial and manpower base would dramatically increase.

In Malden's experience, Sith sorcery was all well and good to turn the tides of battle in a pinch, but cold, solid steel and firepower were still far more reliable when it came to planning military campaign. Of course, Darth Cain bent that rule like he did most others : it had taken Iskandar and every acolyte working together to summon the storm, yet the Lord of Terror had been able to call lightning down from the skies in mere seconds all on his own. Once again, the Chiss was reminded of the vast chasm that yet existed between most Sith and Darth Cain.

Apparently, the acolytes had thought the storm would last for days, but Darth Cain had nearly drained it of power when he'd obliterated the Gen'Dai leading the enemy army – inasmuch as that rabble could be said to have had a leader.

While the Lord of Terror had ordered the fleet to land as far from the inhabited regions as possible, there had still been a few isolated homestead in the desert, mostly around oases. A particularly brave (or foolish) local had apparently decided to go investigate once the worst of the storm had passed, bringing a recording device with them to document their findings.

As a result, numerous images of the devastation left behind by the Scouring were now being shared all across the Holonet, with their author being well on their way to becoming the wealthiest Savareen native thanks to the royalties being paid by every news network. The sight of thousands of mercenary corpses already half-buried by the sand, as well as the strange, obscurely beautiful fulgurite shapes which had formed as a result of the lightning, made the whole battlefield look like something out of legend.

Malden had assigned a team to monitoring the public reaction to the images. Civilians could be awfully squeamish sometimes, and the fact each and every one of the Hutt mercenaries had been vicious outlaws whose gangs had preyed on the Outer Rim for centuries might not register in the face of such one-sided slaughter. And it had been one-sided : given the number difference between the two sides, the handful of casualties the Sith forces had taken would be considered a miracle by any military strategist. But then, of course, making miracles happen was something of a speciality of the Lord of Terror.

Not that Darth Cain had a monopoly on miracles, Malden added silently. The operative was still reeling from the fact that a Jedi Padawan had somehow managed to fix the Invincible's hyperdrive. He'd read the reports from the engineering teams, and knew just how much work it had been expected to take, yet Skywalker had done it in mere hours.

It was an awe-inspiring feat, and one that made Malden very glad he hadn't interfered when Khayon and Nefertari had brought Shmi Skywalker-Lars back to Perlia aboard the Dread Son.

---

When Anakin had woken up in the infirmary, Obi-Wan had been right there at his side, telling him that they were in the Savareen system, the battle was over, and Darth Cain wanted to talk with him. Once the medics were satisfied he wasn't going to collapse the moment he was out of their sight, they'd let him get out, to where a transport was waiting to bring him, Obi-Wan and Master Plo Koon to the surface of Savareen. Darth Cain had gone back down to Savareen after being brought back to the Invincible to meet with the local civilian leaders – those who'd survived the occupation.

On the way through the ship, Obi-Wan filled him in on what had happened in more details. He didn't tell Anakin he was in trouble with the Council for fixing the Invincible, but it was strongly implied. Much to Anakin's surprise, Obi-Wan patiently listened as Anakin explained to him that he'd felt compelled by the will of the Force itself. The Jedi Knight looked like he believed the Padawan, but didn't seem all that relieved by the explanation.

Their transport landed in the largest settlement on Savareen, known to the locals as Dry Gulch, where a squad of Sith troopers (very politely) escorted them to the settlement's largest building. Judging by the building's brutish style and the signs of short, violent battle inside, Anakin guessed it had served as a garrison for the local warbands until very recently.

There were Sith acolytes and troopers moving in and out of the building, and Anakin could feel their gazes lingering on him. That would have made him nervous, but he had overheard the whispers of the soldiers aboard the transport which had brought them down, and knew that the story of how he'd helped fix the Invincible's hyperdrive had spread through the ranks like a podracing champion's coins in a whorehouse.

They passed by a makeshift infirmary, where Imperial medics were tending to a handful of wounded soldiers and many more locals. From what Anakin could see, the locals didn't appear to be here under duress, and were coming to ask for assistance with a variety of things – although far too many of them bore injuries Anakin was all too familiar with : the bruises of savage beatings delivered by brutes who knew you couldn't fight back, and the lashes and cuts of whips and wicked knives.

He felt his fists tighten, and forced himself to relax. There was no point in anger now : the ones responsible were already being handled. There were going to be a lot of trials on Savareen in the coming days, as the raiders were brought to justice for what they'd done to the locals while waiting for the muster to be complete. Anakin was familiar with the judicial codes of places like this : there wasn't enough time or resources to spend on keeping people imprisoned, so either the culprit could make up for their crime by paying some sort of compensation to their victims, or they were exiled or killed.

Anakin had no doubt there were going to be a lot of executions before this was done, and the markets of Savareen would soon overflow with off-world equipment taken from the survivors as payment. And there would be a lot of buyers, as the people looked for means of defending themselves.

The Lord of Terror greeted them from behind a desk covered in datapads and sheets of flimsy. The sight was surprisingly mundane – after what Anakin had sensed the man do, seeing him dealing with paperwork of all things felt … strange. Out of place. Like he should have other people do that kind of thing for him. His droid, JURG-N, stood behind him, looking at rest but undoubtedly ready to deal with any threat to his master.

"Ah, Jedi. Thank you for coming. Have a seat, all of you," said Darth Cain, gesturing at the chairs on their side of the desk.

"You have my thanks for repairing the Invincible, Padawan Skywalker," he continued once the Master, Knight and Padawan were seated. "This will make our campaign against the Cartels much quicker, and, though I'd rather you not repeat this, I understand it also helped keep my dear apprentice calm."

"If I may ask," cut in Obi-Wan, "where is Lady Vaylin at the moment ?"

"Hunting down some of the mercenaries who ran for the desert when they saw the Invincible arrive. I expect it will keep her busy for … oh, a few more hours. More importantly, it'll give her an opportunity to sort out her feelings." The Sith Lord sighed. "Her progress since becoming my apprentice has been remarkable, but she still has a long road ahead of her before she can truly call herself Sith. But enough about her for the moment. I find myself in your debt, young Skywalker, and my honor demands that I repay the great favor you have done me."

"I have been told that your mother's husband and stepson are still on Tatooine," Cain continued. "Do you think they would be amenable to resettle on Perlia ? Your mother, it seems, has become quite involved in the community that's been growing around the Temple."

Next to Anakin, Obi-Wan made a choking noise. Anakin didn't understand why he looked so nervous : clearly, Cain wanted only to thank him for his help, his sense of honor forbidding him to not repay it.

"I think Mom would like that, but I don't know whether the rest of the family will want to leave Tatooine behind," he said. It still felt strange to think that his mother had gotten married, and that Anakin had a brother he had never met, but he had to assume they were good people. "I've no doubt that their lives would be more comfortable on Perlia, but leaving their home behind might be too much for them."

"Well, I shall still make the offer to her," said the Sith Lord with a smile. "But what about you, Padawan ? Is there anything you want that I can grant you ?"

Now, Anakin had stood at Obi-Wan's side on negotiation missions for the Republic enough times to know that he needed to approach this with tact. With delicacy. With diplomacy.

"As long as you keep doing what you're doing and freeing people from the Hutts, I think we're square," he replied with his best smile.

Uh. Why was Obi-Wan looking at him like that ?

"You …" Darth Cain shook his head, and Anakin was almost sure he caught a brief flash of a smile on his lips. "You remind me of someone I once called a friend. He, too, had a habit of doing great things for other people and rejecting all attempts to balance the scales. And from what I've seen, your power is as great as his was. So, I will give you a word of advice, young Padawan."

Cain bent forward, and when he spoke, his voice was much more serious, and his face set in the determined, focused look which Anakin had seen on him whenever he made a public appearance on Perlia :

"You must be cautious. In my life, I've met a few people as strong in the Force as you before, Skywalker – men and women whose actions shaped the course of galactic history."

"I … I'm not that strong," Anakin protested. "I mean, all I did was fix the ship. I didn't fight anyone."

Cain shook his head.

"There is power in violence, but not all power is tied to how well you can wield a lightsaber. Power lies in your ability to shape your reality, and what you did, regardless of how or why, is going to affect the course of galactic events. Your name was already known as the pilot who took out an entire Lucrehulk at Naboo, but soon, the entire galaxy will learn the name of Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi Padawan who repaired the mightiest warship in the galaxy. That will have consequences, and draw all manner of attention. I hope," and here, Darth Cain turned his gaze to Obi-Wan and Master Plo Koon, "that the Jedi Order is ready to handle this situation."

"Of course," replied Obi-Wan. "This isn't the first time one of the Order's actions end up causing a stir."

"Good," nodded Cain. "But this isn't just about politics or warfare. I know from experience that the Force itself will respond to such actions, Skywalker. How, I cannot say : perhaps others of the Order will be able to divine it. But there will be a response, and it will test you. So, be mindful of your actions, and keep up your training."

Again, the Lord of Terror smiled. "If nothing else, I believe you might grow up to be a suitable sparring partner for Vaylin to train with using the fullness of her power."

Remembering the recording of Vaylin killing Jabba, Anakin was at once intrigued and terrified at the very notion.

Someone knocked at the office's door, which opened to reveal a blue-skinned, red-eyed alien with a datapad in his hands and a troubled look on his face.

"Ah, it appears our time together is at an end for now," said Cain. "Please, feel free to return to the Invincible or explore the planet as you wish : I've given orders to the troops to accommodate your requests. I expect we'll stay on Savareen for a week or two, maybe more, before returning to Perlia."

They gave their goodbyes, and left. Anakin was curious to know what the alien (who didn't belong to any species he recognized : he'd have to look it up on the Holonet later to find the name of that particular type of near-Human, especially since the Sith Empire hadn't exactly been tolerant of aliens) wanted to tell Cain, but he knew better than to try to eavesdrop.

"Now," said Master Plo Koon as they walked out of the building, "let's return to the Invincible. We have a holo appointment with the Jedi Council."

Ah. Right. Somehow, Anakin was more nervous about that than he'd been about meeting a Sith Lord.

---

As the sun set on Savareen, I dragged myself to the quarters the locals had prepared for me and, once I was certain no one other than JURG-N was present, collapsed into the closest chair.

I was exhausted. Once the adrenaline from the battle had stopped flowing, the strain of using my powers against the Hutt fleet before engaging Durge in combat had come crashing back. And, with the Invincible having arrived to reinforce us, I couldn't just sit down and let Broklaw and Sulla handle the aftermath, not when there was a whole planet to manage.

After what had happened on Tatooine, I didn't trust Vaylin to take care of establishing relationships with Savareen's population. The locals were understandably shocked and terrified : they had spent weeks with a fleet of raiders gathering in their system, with leave parties going to the planet for entertainment.

The horrors they had endured were a familiar refrain to me at this point. I had always done all I could to prevent that kind of behavior from the troops under my command, because I didn't want to give more people a reason to try to kill me even if it meant their own certain death, but most of my peers hadn't been so enlightened. Force, even the Republic had had that kind of issues with discipline at times : decades of a brutal galactic war and the ensuing lowering of the standards for recruitment affected us all equally, I supposed.

But it didn't make the situation any less bad for the people of Savareen. And since I had just given the Republic three distinct reasons to be worried about me (first by using the Force on the fleet, then by winning the battle, and finally when the Invincible had arrived with its distinctly non-broken hyperdrive), it was in my best interests to show myself in a better angle – like, say, spending time ensuring the innocent civvies who had suffered under the yoke of the Cartels were taken care of.

Malden and the other spooks were making sure some of the footage had made its way to the Holonet, using the contacts they had somehow already built with the media. It wouldn't be enough to assuage the (entirely reasonable from the perspective of everyone else, I was forced to admit) fear of me, but hopefully it would keep people too confused to start demanding my immediate arrest by the Jedi or push for a remilitarization of the Republic. I had nothing against the latter on principle, so long as said military wasn't built for the sole purpose of hunting me down.

While the sudden arrival of reinforcements had been welcome – save for calling up another storm, I hadn't been sure what to do to keep the Hutt fleet from bombing us into oblivion once it became clear their ground forces had been annihilated. But it had still been a surprise, and one which would complicate our relations with the Republic a great deal – and then, of course, there was Skywalker himself.

When I'd offered to have his family permanently relocated to Perlia, it hadn't been out of the goodness of my heart. On Perlia, I could make sure they were protected from anyone who might want to strike at them in retribution for Skywalker's actions.

Apart from the damage to my image such a hit would cause, the idea of Skywalker blaming me for harm having come to his family was a terrifying one. Right now, I was confident that I could defeat him if he decided to come for my head, but that was only due to my greater experience. Between what had happened in Naboo's orbit years ago and his somehow repairing the hyperdrive of a ship thousands of years old in less than a day, his potential reminded me of Vaylin's, and one confrontation with a superpowered, unstable Force user was already more than enough for me.

Hopefully his relatives on Tatooine would see reason and leave that burning sand-ball for the much more comfortable climate of Perlia. Which would still leave me with a number of headaches.

For one thing, I now had around a hundred captured ships I needed to find a use for. Getting crews for them and refitting them to the standards of the Imperial Navy would take time : many of them were in an appalling state of disrepair, which gave me the perfect excuse to delay their use, as there was no way Darth Cain, Lord of Terror, would send his forces to war in such lacklustre vessels. And, now that the Invincible's hyperdrive was fixed, I couldn't just empty it of personnel to crew the smaller ships.

What I could do, however, was ask Kasteen to figure out which of her crew deserved promotions, assign them to the new ships, and give them crews made up of the worryingly large number of volunteers from the rescued slave population on Perlia. It wouldn't be enough for every ship, and teaching them their new jobs would take time, but it was a start everyone was more or less satisfied with. Well, except the Republic, and I imagined the Cartels wouldn't be very happy with it either, but you couldn't please everybody, and I was more worried about the warmongers I lived with than the politicians on Coruscant. Besides, compared to the Invincible, a handful of ex-pirate ships was nothing worth mentioning when it came to fearmongering in the Senate.

The first ship on the line to be refitted and added to my new navy would be the one which had served as the command vessel of the Hutt fleet. The Hutta's Magnificence was one of the best-maintained of the lot, and once the spooks were done sweeping it over for intel and traps, I was going to give it to Vaylin. The Dread Son had served her well on Tatooine, but the Hutta's Magnificence was larger, better armed, and just generally better than Varan's flagship, and I didn't want my apprentice to think I was snubbing her. I had even decided to let her decide what its new name would be, bracing myself for the worst – Vaylin's tastes were very … peculiar. I could only pray to the Force she wouldn't rename it Teacher's Glory or something else equally asinine.

I was dragged out of my pessimistic imaginings when JURG-N entered the room, carrying a tray with a glass and a bottle on it, which he set on the table next to my seat before uncorking the bottle and pouring out two fingers of the liquid with the same precision of movement he'd displayed when shooting every raider who'd wandered close to us in the middle of the sandstorm.

"Here, sir," he said, handing me the glass.

"What is that ?" I asked, taking it and inspecting it.

"Savareen brandy. A gift from the locals, supposedly the best quality." Then, because JURG-N knew me all too well, he added before I could ask : "I checked : there's no poison in it, beyond its normal alcoholic content."

"Oh. That's very nice of them."

I took a sip of the drink and paused, eyes widening.

"This is actually really good," I said, rising my glass to look at the amber liquid.

"I'm happy to hear it," replied JURG-N. "I've taken the liberty of asking the cooks to prepare a meal for you as well, sir : it will be ready in twenty minutes."

"Thank you, JURG-N," I said.

A good meal – or as good as Imperial Army cooks could make with military rations, which was better than one might expect, given how much money I'd invested in making sure my forces had as little reason to hate me as possible – before a night of sleep would do wonders for me.

I took another sip of the brandy. I hadn't lied : it was really good, and my decades of living as part of the Sith Empire's nobility and galactic wanderer had left me a connoisseur of alcoholic beverages.

Well, at least some good had come out of this whole mess.

---

Once again, Amberley stood before the assembled Jedi Council. Under her tranquil facade, she idly wondered if she should ask for her own seat up here, given how much time she was spending in the chamber since her return. Sure, she'd never passed the trials for becoming a Jedi Master, but that had only been because there'd never been enough time for it back in her time.

She discarded the thought as a useless distraction, and focused on the reason for the meeting. The battle of Savareen, which was already being called the Scourging on the Holonet's news stations, was over, and it had ended in a Sith victory so decisive as to shock the entire galaxy.

Upon learning that the reason Ciaphas had used his terror aura was because Savareen had turned out to be the mustering ground for the Cartels' counter-attack, Amberley had been in equal parts relieved, amused, and unsurprised. It was typical of Ciaphas, really. He claimed not to be an oracle, and, given that his point of reference was Erebus, he was entirely correct in this assessment. But while Ciaphas may not bend the future to his will using the power of the Dark Side like the Vile One had done time and again, his instincts were clearly guided by the Force.

Of course, he saw it as the Force wanting to kill him, rather than ensuring he went where he was needed.

Kenobi and Plo Koon were delivering their report after their meeting with Cain. Skywalker was also present by hologram, but had kept silent. In Amberley's opinion, this whole thing looked far too much like the Padawan was being put on trial – which, given he was still on a planet full of Darksiders very grateful to him, wasn't an impression she felt the Order wanted to give right now.

"From your description, what Padawan Skywalker used sounds a lot like the Sith technique known as Mechu-Deru," said Madame Nu, who had also been asked to attend.

"That name is unknown to me. What is that ?" asked Amberley.

"A Sith technique, allowing one to use the Force to manipulate mechanical structures," explained the Chief Librarian.

"Oh, I see," she nodded. "I think I remember a Sith Lord using something similar during the Great Galactic War, but I never learned the name. I'm a bit surprised his discoveries survived that long, though."

"Something the galaxy paid a heavy price for," said Madame Nu. "Mechu-Deru was used to create all manners of horrors during the Sictis Wars, when the Sith Lord Belia Darzu created the technovirus, a plague capable of turning all it infected into cybernetic monsters enslaved to her will. Entire worlds were lost to this plague before she was stopped."

"With respect, Madame, that is not remotely what Anakin did," protested Knight Kenobi.

"No one is claiming otherwise, Obi-Wan," replied Master Windu. "But Mechu-Deru is still the closest thing we have to compare it to, and given its origins and what he used it for, I'm sure you understand there is cause for concern."

"Padawan Skywalker," cut in Yoda. "What you did, in your own words, describe for us."

"I … the Force was guiding me, Masters," the young Human started, clearly nervous. "When I felt what Darth Cain did, the danger he was in, I knew I had to do something to help."

"Skywalker," said Windu. "You realize the consequences of what you did, don't you ? With the Invincible once more fully operational, Darth Cain can project his power much further into the galaxy."

"Well, it isn't like he's using it for anything bad, right ? And – and fighting the Hutts isn't even illegal."

"That's beside the point, Padawan," Windu all but groaned.

"An observation, I must make," suddenly said Yoda, and everyone went silent to look at the Grandmaster of the Order. "If not acted as he did, young Skywalker had, then still faced with a fleet in orbit, Darth Cain would have been. In this situation, to drastic measures, he would have had to resort. The arrival of the Invincible, end the conflict without further bloodshed, it did, did it not ?"

"Some of the pirates tried to escape after Commodore Kasteen ordered them to surrender, and they were destroyed," replied Master Plo Koon. "But the rest stopped fighting and were captured without incidents, yes."

"And if still stuck at Perlia, Darth Cain's flagship had been, hmm ? What, then ?"

"Cain would still have won," Amberley declared confidently. She had seen what Ciaphas was capable of when his back was truly against the wall, after all. "But it would have been … messy."

"Messier than using the Force to terrify an entire fleet, before summoning a Dark Side-fuelled sandstorm ?" asked Master Mundi, not bothering to hide his incredulity.

"Yes," Amberley answered curtly.

There was a moment of silence, until it became clear she wasn't going to elaborate – not while Skywalker was in hearing range, at last. Windu must have picked on her reluctance, because he was the one to speak up :

"Then it seems Padawan Skywalker's actions were indeed the guidance of the Force. Knight Kenobi, we will leave admonishing your Padawan for not warning you before going on an excursion aboard a Sith vessel to you."

Slowly, hesitantly, the rest of the Council agreed. The cynic in Amberley told her that some of the Masters would have delivered a much different judgment on Skywalker for his use of a Force technique with such a dark history, if not for the risk of pushing the most powerful Force user the Order had seen in centuries straight into the arms of Darth Cain. Of course, Amberley knew Ciaphas would be horrified at the thought of another overpowered apprentice dropped in his lap, but the rest of the galaxy didn't know that.

"Now that the Invincible's hyperdrive works again, however, Perlia is clearly in violation of Republican law," said Master Trebor. "Do you know what Cain intends to do about that ?"

"Based on what we have heard from Senator Donali and Count Dooku's work on Perlia," said Kenobi, everyone carefully not looking at Yoda as his Lost Padawan was mentioned.

Amberley understood : it was one thing for a Jedi to leave the Order due to their disagreements with the Council, and another to see those same disagreements leading them to making common cause with a Sith Lord, even one as unconventional as Ciaphas. She hadn't told the rest of the Order that Dooku had turned to the Dark Side, despite Ciaphas having shared that revelation with her soon after he'd learned it himself. She hadn't lied, since nobody had asked her about it, but she had a feeling that revealing that piece of information would do more harm than good – and Amberley had learned to trust her instincts a long time ago.

"I expect the declaration of secession was already being drafted when the Invincible left the system," continued Kenobi. "As soon as their Sovereign returns, I think we will have an official announcement that Perlia is terminating its membership of the Republic."

"We already knew this was inevitable from the moment Darth Cain returned," Windu pointed out. "The real question is, how much of the Damocles Sector will follow Perlia ?"

"Count Dooku has spent a great deal of the last weeks speaking with the Perlian bureaucrats," said Master Plo Koon. "And Senator Donali isn't exactly displeased with the Hutts' influence being curtailed, either. His Sector has suffered from their depredations for years, with very little Republic assistance."

Which, in Amberley's opinion, was another reason why the Jedi Order should have changed the terms of its association with the Galactic Republic decades ago. Having spent some more time studying the archives, she understood the reasoning behind the Ruusan Reformations : at the time, there had existed a very real possibility of the Jedi, having spent generations fighting a war for survival against the New Sith, would have taken over the galaxy. With their ancestral enemy defeated, returning their power to the people they were supposed to serve and giving assurances of their loyalty by binding themselves to the Senate had made sense.

But in recent days, with the Republic's slow descent into a bureaucratic quagmire and the rise of the criminal elements and megacorps in the Outer Rim, the Jedi needed their independence more than ever before. Especially if, as Ciaphas suspected, the Sith master of the wretch Varan was lurking in the Outer Rim, far from where the might and attention of the Order was focused.

"If every world with Separatist tendencies joins in some kind of alliance around Perlia, it would be the Sith Empire reborn in all but name," said Master Mundi.

"Cain is not the Sith Emperor," said Master Plo Koon. "Of this, at least, we can be certain."

"Yes, but that isn't my point," insisted the Cerean. "Let us accept, for the moment, that Darth Cain truly has no intention of declaring war on the Republic. That would make him a rare Sith Lord indeed, but for the sake of argument, let's say that he is that special. What about his successor ? The Dark Side might prolong his life, but sooner or later, he will die. It is inevitable. What, then ? Lady Vaylin might be willing to honor her Teacher's wishes and continue to uphold whatever treaties are established in the meantime, but what about her successor, or their successor's successor ? So long as they are Sith, History teaches us that sooner or later, someone will rise who will lead this new Separatist dominion against the Republic."

Amberley wished she had an answer to that, but she didn't. It had been one of her own concerns, but she'd been too preoccupied with preventing war from erupting now to give it too much thought.

"Our fear for the future, to the present, blind us must not," said Yoda. "Keep the Damocles Sector from becoming a new cradle of evil, we must, but lightsabers and blasters, the answer they are not. Into the future generations of the Order, trust we must."

"Then what do you suggest, Master Yoda ?" asked Windu.

For a long time, the Grandmaster was silent, then he finally said :

"Meditate on this new development, I must. Padawan Skywalker's tale, that there is more at play here, tells us. The will of the Force in this matter, we must determine."

"We'll also need to discuss this with the Chancellor Palpatine," said Master Windu. "If we're to prevent a panic, we'll need to present a united front."

Amberley had yet to meet the current Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, but from what she'd heard, the man was certainly an improvement from the last one she remembered, who had let her ambitions overcome her common sense even as the war against the Eternal Throne raged. By contrast, Palpatine was reputed to be a peacemaker, even if he struggled to make headway with the disparate factions of the Republic, which had grown ever more fractious in recent years.

The Knight of the Old Republic didn't want to jump at shadows, but she couldn't help but think those growing tensions might be the work of the same Sith who'd ordered the attack on Perlia. It certainly seemed like the kind of things her old enemies would do – and had done, in the decades preceding the First Great Galactic War.

This, Amberley decided as the Council adjourned and she left the chamber, warranted further investigation. If someone was instigating chaos behind the scenes, then they were sure to try to use recent events to their advantage. She needed to get in touch with whoever was in charge of the present incarnation of the Order's Shadows, and see if they would be willing to cooperate with the Cainite Sith's own intelligence apparatus to root out their common enemy.

It would be difficult, but Amberley had never been one to be afraid of a little challenge. And it might give her an excuse to go back to Perlia in order to 'exchange intel' with Ciaphas once more, which would be a nice bonus. She missed him dearly, and she still owed him a slap for that stunt he'd pulled on Savareen.

---

It was fortunate that Darth Sidious had already retired within his private apartment for the evening when the news of Cain's victory at Savareen reached him – very fortunate indeed, for the Sith Lord couldn't hide his rage at the sheer scope of this debacle. Several very rare, very expensive pieces of art had suffered the consequences of his fury before he'd been able to reach the room he'd put aside precisely for such meltdowns.

Now, several hours later, Palpatine's rage had simmered down and turned cold enough that he could actually think about what had happened and consider what the best response to it was.

As Supreme Chancellor, he had been informed of how exactly the superdreadnought had been able to travel to Savareen, and hadn't needed to fake his complete surprise at the revelation that Anakin of all people had been responsible. He'd known the boy was strong in the Force, of course, though unlike those fools at the Jedi Temple he knew it to be the result of his unlamented Master's experiments, not some Chosen One prophecy. And he was aware of Anakin's skills as a mechanic, too, but there was a difference between building a podracer at nine years old and fixing the hyperdrive of the largest military ship in the galaxy.

Had Cain somehow known Anakin would repair the Invincible's hyperdrive ? It sounded impossible, yet Darth Erebus had been an oracle of legendary power, who'd eluded every assassination attempt from both the Republic and the Empire – until his apprentice had slain him. And Cain's long list of victories against impossible odds certainly became more likely if you assumed his foresight was even better than his Master's.

To face someone who could see the future like this was at once terrifying and exhilarating. For all the advantages such a skill conferred, it clearly wasn't all-powerful, or Darth Cain would have conquered the galaxy thousands of years ago (Sidious very firmly ignored the paranoid voice in his head telling him that maybe, just maybe, the Lord of Terror had orchestrated the Invincible's hyperdrive accident to deliver him to a time where the Republic was more vulnerable).

The Line of Bane had spent centuries gradually obscuring the Jedi Order's own ability to perceive the future through discreet rituals across the galaxy and manipulation of events to cloud their sight, but such techniques wouldn't work against a fellow Darksider. According to the Sith texts Sidious had inherited from Darth Plagueis, the best way to deal with a Sith seer was to avoid any long-term plans that could be detected, and focus instead on myriad of smaller-scale schemes whose cumulative results still served one's needs.

In any case, it was obvious that Cain knew Anakin's potential. Why else would he have ordered his acolytes to bring the boy's mother back to Perlia, where she was safely under his thumb ? And even if Cain didn't succeed in bringing Anakin to his side, the Jedi would keep a much closer eye on the boy from now on, complicating Sidious' own plans to turn him to the Dark Side and make him his apprentice – to make him the very instrument with which he'd destroy the Jedi Order.

Fine. Palpatine had ever thrived in chaos, in turning unexpected circumstances to his advantage. This would be no different. It was clear now that Darth Cain's war against the Cartels wasn't going to be snuffed out in its cradle.

Almost despite himself, Darth Sidious chuckled. There was something exhilarating about keeping track of so many situations at once, knowing that to slip up even once might send everything he had built crashing down. Never before in his entire life had the Supreme Chancellor been so challenged, and it was as invigorating as it was exhausting. If he had the chance, he would have to make sure to thank Darth Cain for the experience, right before he killed him.

Going back to his encrypted communication table, he tried to get in touch with Hanar, but in vain. Either she had gone into hiding to avoid Marlo's retribution for delivering faulty intelligence about the advancement of the Invincible's repairs, or the Hutt had already got her. Either way, Sidious had lost his main contact within the Cartels' efforts against Cain. That would have to change : the Hutts were the only force openly opposing Cain at the moment, but without Sidious' help, it was clear the Lord of Terror would crush them sooner rather than later. Not that Palpatine was fond of the alien slugs : as far as he was concerned, the best possible outcome would be Darth Cain and the Cartels wiping each other out, but he knew how unlikely that was.

There were also problems closer to home. The political factions pushing for a re-militarization of the Republic were sure to gain some ground in the wake of the Invincible's reveal, which would have to be managed carefully. On the other side of the spectrum, Senator Amidala was making noise about organising a visit to Perlia with a group of other Senators, her allies in her little anti-slavery crusade.

So far, Palpatine had opposed it, citing safety concerns. And he certainly could keep doing it, especially with the Invincible back into action, but he knew the young woman well enough to realize that at some point, she would just do it whether she'd his blessing or not.

And one of the key principles of authority, which applied regardless of its source, was to never give an order you knew wouldn't be obeyed. Better to give his permission, along with a very public expression of his hope that this would lead to a betterment of relations between the Republic and the Sith – while at the same time taking steps to ensure the opposite happened, in a way that would serve his interests.

Slowly, a plan began to form in Sidious' devious mind. He took his time, considering the ways in which this could go wrong, approaching it from various angles and making sure that as many outcomes as possible could be made to suit his ends. Then, once he was satisfied, he input a new long string of numbers into the communication table's control panel.

This specific contact was something that, amusingly enough, he owed to his last, failed apprentice. When he'd cultivated Maul's rage and hatred of the Jedi, the Zabrak had sought to sneak away to fight, and kill, one of the Jedi he hated so. In order to do so, he'd shown remarkable adaptability and innovation for someone Sidious had so carefully broken apart and reshaped into a violent instrument, reaching out to several outlaws and securing their services in exchange for credits he'd not exactly stolen from his Master.

Now Maul was dead, but Sidious had kept note of the skill one of the criminals in particular had displayed during that little adventure, and made sure to keep a way of contacting him if need be.

After several moments, the call was accepted and the connection established. The image of a male Duros wearing a greatcoat and wide-brimmed hat appeared in the hologram, looking at the hooded Sith Lord with suspicion.

"Bounty hunter," said Darth Sidious. "I have need of your services."

---

Sprawled out on his throne-like seat, surrounded by his terrified subordinates, Marlo the Hutt fumed.

Savareen had been a complete, unmitigated disaster. Over a hundred ships lost, and their crews hadn't even had the decency to go down fighting, so they weren't just lost, they were in the hands of the Sith now, meaning Darth Cain's fleet was stronger now than it had been before the engagement. Tens of thousands of mercenaries slain, in exchange for barely putting a dent in the ranks of Cain's Legion. Grice, one of Marlo's own blood, taken captive, and no doubt already singing like a Pa'lowick, telling the Imperials everything he knew about the Cartels' operations in the Outer Rim.

And the worst part ? He really, really should have seen it coming. His forebears' archives contained many instances of Cain striking at his enemy's weak spot even though he couldn't possibly have known about it. When first reading those, Marlo had thought it the result of the legendarily efficient Imperial Intelligence, but now, he was forced to reconsider.

It was possible that those secret agents who had followed Cain through time had already managed to re-establish their networks in the few months since their return, but the rumors of the Lord of Terror's prescience might actually be more credible. As a crime lord, Marlo knew more than most about how difficult it was to actually build a spy ring from scratch, and he didn't believe the Sith had had the time to do it – though he didn't doubt for a moment they were working on it.

The thought that he was facing someone who could learn his plans from thin air through sorcery wasn't a pleasant one, and was the source of much of his present choler. Such divination, if that was what it was, couldn't be infallible, because if it was, then Marlo might as well give up right now and call Darth Cain to negotiate the terms of his surrender – which his pride would never allow. But clearly, it didn't need to be perfect to be a massive advantage.

And, worst of all, the Invincible was back in action. Marlo had to assume that all this talk of the hyperdrive being damaged had been lies : sure, after being hurled over thirty centuries into the future, the Sith would want to check the engine, but clearly they had deliberately overestimated the damage in their exchanges with the Republic.

It made perfect sense in Marlo's eyes : for all the power Darth Cain had brought with him through time, not even he could face the entire galaxy on his own, which he might well have had to do if the Invincible had been fully functional right from the start. Instead, the Lord of Terror had bought time to confuse the Republic by sending his bloodthirsty apprentice after Jabba and presenting himself as a protector and liberator, so that the news that his flagship worked fine after all wouldn't be quite so terrifying to the rest of the galaxy – at least, the parts of it which abided by the Republic's anti-slavery laws.

Every base of the Cartels was in panic mode, wondering if their system would be next to be visited by the unstoppable superdreadnought. Even Nal Hutta itself had seen a few disruptions to what passed for public order – and then, there were the slaves. They hadn't had full-blown revolts yet, but it was obvious that suppressing the news of Darth Cain's crusade was a fool's errand.

Until now, the combined fear of punishment, borne out of a thousand failed uprisings' bloody retribution, and of the Sith themselves, had kept the rabble mostly under control. But the longer Darth Cain went without a setback, the more the slaves would drink of that most dangerous of drugs – hope. And the Imperial operatives were certain to make use of such discontent to weaken the Cartels in preparation for their lord's arrival.

Meanwhile, the refitting of the mothballed fleets and other assets stored by Marlo's clan over the millennia was ongoing. The Hutt wasn't under any illusions that there wasn't substantial skimming off the funds dedicated to the endeavour taking place, but he'd enough trusted informants among the workers to know that the job was still being done, only at thrice the price it should've cost.

Usually, being ripped off so blatantly would have enraged Marlo, and he'd have sent one of his enforcers to make his displeasure known. But right now, the purge this would cause would slow the entire process as replacements were brought in, and credits were more easily replaced than time. So he would grit his teeth and bear the loss, all while taking note of the profiteers' names for later.

But there was a point where no amount of money could make the work go faster, and the reactivation of the mothballed fleets had reached it. It would take time before the first of the ancient ships were ready for action. Another goal of the Savareen fleet had been to buy that time by setting Tatooine ablaze and discrediting Cain's claims of liberation, but that wasn't possible now.

And the Sith Lord had to know that. Having fought in three galaxy-spanning wars, there was no way Darth Cain wouldn't realize the limited window of opportunity he had available to strike. With the Invincible, he could strike target after target, crushing all opposition, so long as his operatives kept feeding him intel – and the mass surrender of Savareen's fleet had ensured he had plenty of that.

So. The situation was bad, and the rest of the Hutt Council knew it. Only two planets had been lost so far, and despite Tatooine's advantageous position on the hyperlanes, but neither of them were particularly great prizes. The warbands of the Savareen host had been mostly chaff, meant to punish Tatooine for its defiance rather than face the Sith Army in battle. Elsewhere in the Outer Rim, Marlo's envoys were recruiting other mercenary groups, ones far more professional and lethal. The Hutt didn't know how they would hold up against Cain's Legion, but they certainly couldn't do worse than the ones whose ashes were now strewn across the deserts of Savareen.

The mercenaries were only one of his endeavours, though. He had another plan running, and if his efforts on Rattatak were successful, he'd gain the services of a true army, many times more numerous than the horde the Sith had so easily crushed on Savareen, and much more experienced in matters of warfare. Properly arming it would cost a lot of credits, but Cain had made it clear this was a war of survival.

That would take care of the manpower issue, although he was still looking for a way to counter the Lord of Terror's fear aura – at the moment, his best bet was using droids, but from the archives it was clear he wasn't the first to think of it. Assassination was the next best thing : without Cain, the whole thing would collapse on itself. But, again, he wasn't the first one to think to use it on the Lord of Terror. Darth Cain had survived a frankly absurd number of assassination attempts over his career, which made sense considering he'd survived his apprenticeship under Darth Erebus – whose name still inspired terror, disgust and hatred alike among the Hutt Clans to this day.

Or maybe he needed to look for other Force users to recruit. Darth Cain had triumphed over many Sith and Jedi in his day, but having someone who could advise Marlo on matters of the Force was better than not. The Outer Rim was home to all manner of exiles and outcasts, and there were always rumors about renegade Force users going around. Most of those were nothing more than tall tales, or attempts by defeated warbands to soothe their bruised egos by attributing supernatural qualities to their foes, but Marlo knew there was a kernel of truth to these rumors, if you could dig deep enough.

The Hutt picked up a piece of meat from a nearby platter and threw it in his mouth, chewing on it along with his thoughts. There was another option, distasteful and dangerous though it may be. Perhaps it was time to send someone to Dathomir; someone who was both skilled enough to have a chance of success, yet not so valuable that their loss would hurt him.

… hmm. Maybe … he hadn't done anything with that wretch Hanar yet, beyond making sure she couldn't escape his dungeon. If the Invincible had truly been repaired by some kind of Force miracle she couldn't possibly have predicted, if she hadn't deliberately provided him with faulty intelligence, then maybe he could still make use of her ? A female would have better odds of surviving Dathomir, and there weren't many among his lieutenants.

Yes, Marlo decided, swallowing the morsel and picking up another, all this thinking having given him an appetite. He'd let the thief stew in her own terror for a while, then he'd summon her before him and tell her how, in his immense generosity, he'd decided to give her one chance at redeeming herself in his eyes. And she'd accept, because she had no choice. Whether she succeeded or not, well, that was up to her.

---

In a dingy, crowded drinking hole on the war-torn world of Rattatak, a pair of hooded figures sat at a corner table, watching the latest Holonet report on the cracked screen above the counter. While the planet was as much of an isolated shithole as you could find in the Outer Rim, it was still connected to the Holonet, even if things like the Republic and Jedi were little more than legends … although, the latter had somewhat changed in recent years – and it was due to the two figures doing their best not to draw attention to themselves as they watched the screen intently.

Ky Narec, Jedi Knight, and Asajj Ventress, his unofficial Padawan, had spent over a decade fighting to put an end to the constant warfare that ravaged Rattatak, ever since Ky had crash-landed on Rattatak on what was supposed to be a fact-finding mission (and, some nights, he wondered whether there was more to his ship's sudden malfunction than bad luck).

As far as the Knight knew, the rest of the Order believed him dead, and he hadn't done anything to change their minds, for he knew they wouldn't approve of what he'd been doing since his arrival. Jedi weren't supposed to interfere in planetary matters without authorization from the local government or the Senate itself, but Ky couldn't simply leave Rattatak as he'd found it : a nigh-perpetual, unending bloodbath, with hundreds of tribes killing each other across the continents for seemingly no reason beyond spilling blood. Nor could he leave Asajj, the orphaned child he'd rescued from slavery soon after his arrival, and taken as his student when he'd realized the strength of her connection to the Force.

At Asajj's insistence and despite Ky's best efforts to keep her safe, she had joined the Jedi Knight's self-appointed crusade to bring peace to Rattatak. And, despite the absurd odds stacked against them, they had been making progress, rallying more and more tribes to her banner. After generations of warfare, the people of Rattatak longed for an end to the slaughter, but they also believed that such a peace could only come from a position of strength. But they had been making progress – and then it had ended, in a single, sudden assault on their headquarters.

The attackers had used weapons that hadn't been made on Rattatak, and they had butchered the pair's allies. Ky and Asajj had barely escaped the ambush with their lives, and Ky was still drawing on the Force to ignore the pain from the blaster bolt he had taken to the chest in the confusion.

Ky didn't fear death, but he did fear leaving Asajj alone. His student was strong in the Force, her potential greater than his by far, but that wasn't the real reason for his worry. After years as a model Jedi Knight, he had grown attached to the pale-skinned girl in the years they had spent together. He had seen her grow from a scared five-years old to the confident, dedicated young adult she now was, and he was self-aware enough to know he saw her more as a daughter than a Padawan.

The Jedi Knight forced himself to consider the bitter truth : they couldn't stay on Rattatak. The hunters of that bastard Kirske were still on the lookout for them, and there was only so far they could run now that their network of allies had been gutted and the tribes who had joined their cause had scattered to the winds. And so, he was forced to consider other, unsavoury options.

The screen was still showing the same images, of the aftermath of the battle on Savareen. Some brave soul had wandered into the desert and taken pictures of the blasted landscape, with spikes of fulgurite rising from the bloody sands where an army had gone to its death.

Ky had felt Darth Cain use his power, like every Force user in the galaxy, he thought. He and Asajj had both sensed the arrival of the Invincible, though it had taken a few weeks for them to learn what the source of the disturbance was. The return of the ancient Sith had terrified Ky, but he'd kept up a strong face, because Asajj had needed him to. That terror had diminished since then as he heard fragmented rumors about the Sith Lord's apprentice liberating Tatooine and declaring war on the Hutt Cartels in the name of ending slavery, replaced by confusion. Still, the Jedi Knight had had little time to think about greater galactic events, busy as he'd been with his work – until now.

Asajj wouldn't countenance fleeing from Rattatak, Ky knew. Her pride and anger, which were still strong despite Ky's lessons, wouldn't allow it. But if Ky phrased it as a temporary retreat to find more allies, she might agree. He was almost certain the off-world weapons Kirske's assassins had used were a gift from the Hutts. If he was right, then Cain would definitely want to hear about it. Maybe he could bargain his and Asajj's safety for the intel.

In all likelihood, this would mean revealing his survival to the Jedi envoys on Perlia. There would be consequences for that, that much was certain. Years of fighting the various warlords of Rattatak had left a mark on Ky's soul. He had fought and killed, and spent far, far too long without talking to a mind-healer. The Dark Side had its hooks inside him now, and if he returned to the Temple, it would be years before he was allowed back out.

As for Asajj, he doubted the Order would even consider welcoming a child of war such as her in their ranks. But he wouldn't abandon her, even if it meant pulling a Dooku and leaving the Order. He didn't want to become a Sith – the stories he'd heard in his time at the Temple, as well as some of the ancient tales and horrors he'd encountered during his time in the Outer Rim, had made sure of that. But so far, Darth Cain didn't seem to be a typical Sith, and since that had apparently been the case during the Old Republic, it probably wasn't a trick to get the Order to lower its guard.

He finished his drink, forcing himself to swallow the foul swill so that the alcohol could help dim the pain of his injury. This was a bad decision, he just knew it, but every other choice was worse. All he could do was trust in the Force, and hope that whatever consequences came, he and Asajj could deal with them.

First thing first, though : they needed to find a ship to bring them to Perlia. Which, given how few coins they'd left, would probably involve more violence.

 

Next

Interlude : Succession

We tell you this story to save your life.

Notes:

AN : Wow, the last chapter got a lot of reviews. Thanks to everyone who took the time to answer my question about the origins of so many new readers.

Ky Narec was dead in the first draft of this chapter, but ultimately I decided keeping him alive would be more interesting - and besides, he should still be alive right now if we follow the canon timeline. His characterization is based on what I found about him on the wikis, and I mixed elements of Canon and Legends, so if there's any inconsistency with canon material, that's why.

Next will be the final chapter of the first "book" of this story. It'll be a flashback chapter, about ... well, I'm sure you can guess from the title below. At time of writing this, it is already 5k words long : inspiration about it struck me a few weeks back, and I've been working on it in parallel to my other works since. So you can expect the next update to be very, very soon.

Thank you to locomotive96 and GoatBane for the awesome fanart in the style of a movie poster they made, which I am now using as the cover for this story.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 12: Interlude : Succession

Notes:

Trigger Warning : Erebus. Just ... Erebus. There isn't anything too explicit shown on-screen, but the implications are there. This chapter is a massive shift in tone from the rest of the story, and if you want, you can skip it and it shouldn't impact your enjoyment of the rest of Darth Cain's adventure. I didn't even intend to write it, but people kept asking for a look at Cain's apprenticeship and how it ended, and the Muse answered.

Still here ? Well. You have been warned.

Here we go.

Hello, sibling.

To understand the present, you need must understand the past. So follow us, sibling. Let us swim against the temporal currents, to an age of war and despair, of atrocity and heroism : to the time of the Old Republic – though all things are old from the future's perspective, and young from the past's.

All is one in the Force : what was, is, and what will be, waits. Come and see, sibling.

See the Republic, wounded, bleeding, yet still standing, proud and defiant. It is stronger than it knows, then and always. For all its flaws, for all the hiccups and mistakes along the way, democracy remains the best way sentients have figured out to live in community. It is an ideal, a promise made in the aftermath of the darkest days, when the chains that held the entire galaxy in thrall were broken, in a war none now remember but us.

See the Empire, prouder still, yet hollow and crumbling, kept standing only through the sacrifice of its own future on War's scarlet altars. It screams its strength at the void like a child waving a stick in the faces of other children at the daycare, because here it is strong, here it doesn't have to be afraid of the abusive father figure waiting for it at home. Evil begets evil begets evil, and few can see the chains binding them to the one, monstrous will holding it all together.

The Empire is a cycle of violence and cruelty, sibling, birthed in lies, war and attempted genocide by those who should have known better, perpetuated by the schemes of a would-be god. It leaves its mark on all who dwell in its shadow, even those lucky, cunning few who manage to get out.

Follow us; let us look deeper.

Our gaze turns to Dromund Kaas. Stormy, wrathful, terrible Dromund Kaas, where the twin thrones of the Hungering Dark lie, one occupied above and one empty below.

See the great cities, born of the labor of the brave souls who were saved from extinction only so that they might serve. See the great temples, built through the suffering of countless slaves. The Empire pursues greatness in all things, looking to a distant, glorious future even as it idolizes the past – and the present is naught but a bloody sacrifice.

See the Imperial citizens, working hard, bound together by common purpose. Their lives, their dreams, their hopes, their loves and ambitions are not so different from those of any Republic citizen. The flow of propaganda cannot drown someone's base nature completely, no matter how hard hollow-souled men try to make it so.

See the Sith Lords ! See how they strut about, so insecure in their power, so hungry for more influence, more wealth, more prestige, more, always more. They can never be satisfied with what they already have, like sharks who will die if they stop moving – except, that is not a universal truth, and neither is this. They could stop : the Dark Side is not so cruel. It is only their fear that holds them back from knowing any semblance of peace. Their fear, and the knives of their peers, for they are all trapped inside the same rat race, running through a maze with only one exit, all for the entertainment of a bored demigod who not once saw other people as anything more than tools. See how they dance around the empty throne, casting fearful glances in its direction over their shoulders all the while.

We look away from the great cities and deep into the jungles, following roads which are kept clear of vegetation and beasts only through ceaseless struggle. See how these great woods are hostile to sentient life, haunted by monsters leftover from the first time the Sith walked this land, before they learned of the Republic and were tricked into declaring war on the rest of the universe to serve the ambitions of one most wicked soul. See how the ambitious and the foolish walk into the darkness in search of lost secrets, and how few of them ever return, the rest feeding the jungles of Dromund Kaas with their blood – keeping them satiated, keeping them from attacking the cities to find the prey they desire, in an unknown rite of appeasement through bloody sacrifice.

Yet, this ancient darkness pales compared to a more recent one.

We shiver. We tremble. There are things even we fear, sibling, places whose horror transcends time and leaves a bloody handprint onto eternity. Yet we must go on. You must see this, sibling. You must learn, and understand.

Follow us, and prepare yourself, though no preparations could arm you for what lies ahead.

See Sicarus, the domain of the Vile One. Do you know what it takes for a Sith to earn such a name in so bloody an age ?

Perhaps you think you do. Perhaps you fancy yourself a wise soul, versed into the many faces of evil. If so, you are adorably mistaken, sibling. You cannot understand what Erebus did in this place. If you did, you would never stop screaming, just like there's a part of poor, dear Ciaphas who only stopped screaming when he met Amberley with their respective masks down and he found peace at last.

See the slaves being brought past the walls, from all species and worlds. Old and young, male and female and otherwise, criminals and innocent, it matters not to the Vile One, who cares only that they can suffer. See the looks on the faces of the slavemasters as they receive their payment from soul-broken servants : some of the harshest, cruellest men of the Empire, and yet they are uneasy, nauseous, guilty even, as generous amounts of coins change hands. They do not know what will happen to the slaves either, but they have the slightest inkling of the awful truth, and it torments their withered consciences relentlessly.

Erebus knows it. He doesn't worry about it : he enjoys it, in fact, delighting in how his evil disturbs even men such as these. Erebus enjoys a great many things, for he is the perfect Sith in many, equally horrible ways.

We look away from the days, months, years, decades of horror that occur in this place. Away, away, away. The past is written and cannot be changed, and there's little to be learned from witnessing such atrocities, when so many tears have already been shed. We search, instead, for the day everything changed. For the day it ended. For the day of death and salvation, of failure and mercy.

For the Day of Cain.

---

On the dawn of what he did not yet know would be his last day alive, Darth Erebus had three apprentices. It was an unusually high number : most Sith Lords only kept one, two at most in order to use rivalry to keep them at each other's throat. Any more than that, and there was the risk of the apprentices uniting to overthrow their Master, or they would simply kill each other until only one remained anyway.

Darth Erebus cared naught for these perils, however. The Vile One (for he bore that title, bestowed upon him by the Republic as a curse, with delighted pride) saw his apprentices as pieces of art, instruments of the Dark Side who would be shaped by his hands to reach their ultimate potential. He had collected potentials from all over the Empire and beyond, and in Sicarus, he'd broken them, one by one. Not all had withstood his cruelties : many had perished, either at his hands, at those of their fellows, or – far more often – at their own, until only three remained.

There was mad Konrad, who saw the future more clearly than any other in the galaxy, and wept bloody tears for the horrors he beheld whenever he closed his pitch-black eyes. The near-Human had been born to slaves in the pits of Dromund Kaas, and had only been four years old when Erebus' enforcers, guided by their Master's visions, had slaughtered the entire slave group and brought the pale-skinned infant to Sicarus.

There was beautiful Emeli, who had been made to murder all those she loved and so driven to madness and obsession, never able to escape her pain save for brief, stolen moments in the night. The pureblood Sith had once been the heiress to a powerful family, before Erebus had decided to have her as a student and engineered the downfall of her line before coming to her in her lowest moment, revealing everything was his doing, and forcing her to kill her parents and siblings.

And then there was fearful Ciaphas, who cowered from the Master's punishments, yet would not embrace the darkness even as tears of pain and fear ran down his cheeks. Of the three, he was the weakest, yet also the one Erebus spent the most time educating, something which Emeli and Konrad were jealous of and pitied him for at the same time.

Three Sith apprentices, three stolen children, three broken souls.

Three conspirators, united by their hate of their Master. Exactly as Darth Erebus had intended.

They came at him inside the Gallery of Silent Screams, just like Erebus had expected. The Gallery was something he was particularly proud of : it was a long corridor, whose walls were covered in carbonite prisons. Dozens of victims were frozen there, trapped at the very apex of pain after weeks of torture. His technical experts had worked hard to design a way they could still feel pain, even in this state.

The constant agony of over a hundred slaves, rivals and captured Jedi would have been enough to mask the three apprentices' killing intent, if not for the fact Erebus had already foreseen it. And so, when the three of them struck, the Vile One smiled.

Ciaphas was the one to attack first, using the Force to send a bunch of furniture flying in his direction. Together, the objects must have weighed over a ton, yet they moved through the corridor nearly as fast as a blaster bolt, propelled by the immense strength of the Sith Lord's favourite apprentice – and victim.

Erebus stopped them dead in the air with a gesture. He took a moment to savour the expression of shock on Ciaphas' face, before sending him flying across the Gallery with another desultory motion of his hand. None of the very expensive pieces had got even close to him, but of course, that hadn't been the point – Ciaphas was only a distraction.

Darth Erebus turned, calling his lightsaber to his hand, and ignited it just in time to illuminate Konrad's descending form. The seer had hidden in the rafters, and used his own oracular abilities to perfectly calculate his plunge so that the first strike of crimson blade would have sliced Erebus' head in two if it had connected.

Instead, Erebus parried the blow with the lightsaber he held in one hand and let loose a torrent of Force Lightning with the other. Konrad screamed in agony as he was held in the air by the sheer strength of the onslaught, right until Erebus plunged his blade into his heart.

For a moment, he held Konrad up like this, skewered on his lightsaber like a pig. Slowly, twitching with agony, Konrad raised his head and looked at his killer, eyes burning with pain and hate.

"Did you not foresee this, my apprentice ?" mocked Erebus.

"I … did," spat Konrad. The Vile One frowned at the mad pupil's lack of despair, and finished him off by ripping his lightsaber out of his chest, incinerating even more of his vital organs on the way out and throwing the smoking corpse to the ground.

He had no time to reflect on the meaning of Konrad's last words, as he now had to parry Emeli's furious flurry of blows, all while blocking the sound of her screams as she tried to break his mind by hammering it with her own projected madness.

In some ways, it was a shame that she had to die : with enough time to develop her abilities, Emeli had the potential to drown entire worlds into insanity. But hers was a necessary sacrifice, and besides, he could always find a replacement for her in the next batch of apprentices, once he'd proven his method worked.

Left, right, up, right, and – there. With a swift sweep, he cut off both of the young pureblood girl's hands, before ramming his blade into her throat and silencing her scream of horrified pain.

Erebus looked at the corpse, then up to where Ciaphas was staring at Erebus, at the corpses of his two fellow Apprentices. Then he turned and ran, chased by the sound of Erebus' laughter, and the echo of slow, deliberate footsteps.

As he walked, Erebus could see the path to the future, clear and obvious. He was going to cut off Cain's right hand, sever it at the wrist and deprive him of his lightsaber. The appendage would be replaced later, but the loss – and the associated pain, which would never truly fade, Erebus would make sure of that – would forever remind his last apprentice that he couldn't defy his Master, that all he had managed to achieve today was to get his fellow students killed due to his weakness and cowardice, and the realization would well and truly break him. He would accept his place as Erebus' slave, and the Vile One would unleash him upon the galaxy, using him to further his cause, all while continuing to shape him into an even more perfect instrument.

Erebus could see it, clear as day, just like he had seen a thousand paths before, Destiny shaped by his will to serve the glory of the Dark Side. Ciaphas would only be the first. He'd make more like him, and together, they would crush the Republic, exterminate the Jedi, and usher in a new age of eternal Darkness, under the rule of the Undying Emperor.

He followed Ciaphas out of the Gallery of Silent Screams, past the Hall of Horrors and the gate of the Basilica of Darkness. There was nowhere for the apprentice to escape : Erebus had made sure the entire complex was sealed, and Ciaphas didn't have the required access codes to undo the lockdown.

The more Ciaphas tried to escape, the greater his despair as he realized there was nowhere to run, and the sweetest Erebus' victory would be. Eventually, Erebus found him laying on the ground in front of a tall statue of the Emperor, panting with exhaustion. Usually, he could've run for hours by drawing on the Force, but Erebus had been harassing him from afar with psychic nudges ever since he'd fled the Gallery, stopping him from concentrating.

"There is no point in running, Ciaphas," said the Vile One as he crossed the last few meters separating him from his final apprentice, his masterpiece, and raised his lightsaber. "This … this was always inevitable."

Then fear, cold and immense, struck him like a hammer-blow, poured into his veins like ice water and tightened around his heart, freezing him in place. It'd been decades since Darth Erebus had felt anything like this, and it caught him completely off-guard.

Ciaphas was doing this, he realized. His last apprentice was making him feel the same terror he felt right now – but Erebus wasn't used to it, while Ciaphas had spent his entire time in Sicarus suffering it, and he didn't freeze. Instead, he rose, a mad, feral desperation in his eyes – the look of a wounded, cornered beast lashing out at its hunter – and ignited his own lightsaber.

The crimson blade swung, a simple strike that bit deep into Erebus' torso, ravaging his internal organs before erupting out of his back.

The shocked disbelief Erebus felt drowned out the agony of the wound. He had not anticipated this, not at all. Never, not even in fragmentary glimpses had he foreseen this possibility, that Ciaphas, whose fear he'd so enjoyed over the years time and time again, would find a way to turn that very fear against him, without first turning it to anger and to hate. In all the thousands of times he had seen this moment play out, not once had he seen this particular outcome.

It had been so, so long since one of his visions had been wrong, and now he was going to die because of it. There was no questioning it : the blow was a lethal one. Already he could feel the cold hand of death drawing him in, feel his connection to the Force desert him as punishment for his failure. The Dark Side rewarded triumph and punished defeat, and Erebus could feel its gaze turn away from him and toward his killer, evaluating Ciaphas, judging him just like Erebus had judged the boy when he'd first arrived to Sicarus.

There was still something he could do, Erebus realized. One last offering to the Dark Side, one last seed of ruin planted before he passed into the embrace of the Void, to atone for his failure to forge Ciaphas into the perfect instrument of torment he could have been – and might yet become, if the gambit that had come to Erebus in one final flash of dark inspiration came to pass.

He smiled at Ciaphas, blood pouring between his lips. The barely suppressed flinch of recoil in his last apprentice at the sight pleased the Vile One greatly. Even here, at the end, his apprentice was afraid of him, scared that this was some trick, that Erebus would somehow survive this and punish him as he'd punished him countless times before, for wrongs both real and imagined.

But no. What Erebus had in mind was much worse than any merely physical torment.

"You … will be … magnificent," he breathed out, making sure to articulate the words clearly so that Ciaphas couldn't miss their meaning.

A curse, to plant a seed of doubt in Ciaphas' heart – that perhaps he hadn't escaped Erebus' plans for him after all. Perhaps his Master had been willing to sacrifice everything, including his very life, to make Ciaphas into an even better servant of the Dark Side than he.

And as the darkness took Erebus into its embrace, Erebus knew that might still happen, and he found it good.

---

I stood over the corpse of my Master for what felt like an eternity. All the while, I kept expecting him to get back up, to laugh in my face, to reveal it had all been another trick. But he didn't move. He was dead, and his last words kept repeating in my head – but they couldn't drown out the image of my fellow apprentices' corpses – the corpses of my friends.

I had held Emeli in my arms as she cried silently in the night, when the madness she used to fight others had no other victim than her to torment. I had held Konrad down while his body seized and spasmed in the throes of his visions, to keep him from hurting himself. As more and more of our fellow students died, we had become closer and closer, unable to stop ourselves, even though we knew it was a trap of Erebus, a way to hurt us even more.

Now they were dead, and I was alone.

I screamed, in grief, in pain, I knew not and did not care, and the Dark Side answered. A storm of kinetic energy raged across the entire castle, ripping apart priceless artwork and morbid trophies alike. My mind brushed against the trapped souls of the Gallery of Silent Screams, and I ripped the life supports and sorcerous bindings which kept them locked in perpetual torment with telekinesis.

One by one, I felt the spark of their lives go dark, their spirits finally released from their awful fate. This, at least, I knew was a good thing. This, at least, was mine.

I raged on. Without moving from where I sat, I tore the monuments to Erebus' past triumphs to pieces. I smashed statues to dust, shattered ancient crystals ripped from the earth of distant worlds, ripped paintings and tapestries to shreds. I felt the Force in me, stronger than ever before, and knew that I wasn't doing this entirely alone – that all of Erebus' past victims were helping me, reaching out from the grave to assist me in this act.

I longed to join them, to die and no longer have to endure this miserable life of mine. But even now, I couldn't do it. Even now, I was too much of a coward to do the one thing that would ensure Erebus' last curse would never come to pass.

The storm passed, the silent presence of the dead withdrew. I fell to the ground, exhausted, and wept. I do not know how long I stayed like this : Erebus had trained me out of the ability to feel thirst and hunger, forcing me to subsist entirely on the power of the Dark Side.

Eventually, however, my awareness of my surroundings returned as I felt a new presence walking through the ruins my loss of control had turned Sicarus into. Forcing my eyes open, I looked up, and saw a pureblood Sith in dark armor, radiating strength in the Force. I knew him, recognized him from Erebus' lessons regarding the Imperial hierarchy we'd been expected to serve into once we were let out of this dismal place, and knew I was doomed.

"Lord Scourge," I rasped out, and stretched out my arms to gesture at the devastated décor around us. "Welcome to Sicarus."

"Apprentice," he said, looking at my lightsaber, still clutched in my hand. "Darth Erebus is dead, then ?"

"Yes," I replied, my head twitching in the direction where the pieces of his corpse laid. In my crazed rampage, I had thoroughly dismembered the Vile One's remains : there'd be no coming back from this, even with the best cybernetic technology in the Empire.

Even in my current state, faced with one who was sure to kill me for what I'd done, I found this satisfying.

"And you were the one to kill him ?" asked Scourge.

Was I ? I could never have done it without the help of my fellow apprentices, but they were dead now, and mine had been the hands to wield the lightsaber which had delivered the final blow.

"Yes," I admitted, knowing that such a crime carried only one punishment, but finding myself unable to care at the moment.

"Then you will come with me," decreed the Emperor's Wrath. "The Emperor demands it."

It was then that I realized that I could, in fact, still care. For Erebus had been, as far as I could tell, loyal to the Emperor – not just loyal, but worshipful. And the thought of any being capable of earning my Master's loyalty was a terrifying one.

I followed Scourge without resistance, lost in a haze of shock and terror, as he took me outside of Sicarus for the first time in years. I thought he'd bring me to the Imperial Palace in the planetary capital, but instead our transport went up, past Dromund Kaas' atmosphere and into an orbital station. I sat insensate on the copilot's chair as Lord Scourge navigated us through the numberless defenses of the station, until we landed in a hangar and he almost had to drag me out of my chair before I snapped back into something approaching focus.

We walked through long corridors, passing by hooded figures which reminded me of the faceless thralls Erebus had kept in Sicarus, each of them cut apart and rebuilt with a mix of Imperial augmentations and Sith sorcery. I briefly wondered what had happened to the wretches after my Master's demise : I hadn't seen or heard any of them while laying on the ground, insensate. Had they all died with him, or had them been released from whatever control he held over them ? If it was the latter, I couldn't imagine many of them had been able to continue living, not with what I knew he'd made them do.

We passed crimson-clad members of the Imperial Guard and powerful Sith Lords, who looked at Scourge with a mix of awe and envy, and at me with one of curiosity and contempt. I cannot say what they saw when they looked at me, but I must have made quite the sight, having not washed myself in what must have been days at this point.

Scourge led me into an eight-sided room, at the center of which stood a throne atop a tiered pedestal. Upon that throne sat the Emperor of the Sith, and I fell to my knees, unable to stay standing before such power and malice as I could feel radiating from him.

"Tell me your name," said the Emperor, and the answer tore itself from my throat before I could even think about it :

"Ciaphas."

"You have slain your Master, and cost me a valuable servant." There was no emotion in his voice : no anger, no amusement, nothing. Somehow, that made it worse than all the times Erebus had taunted me before putting me through another 'test'. "For this, you will be put through a trial. Should you survive, you will have proven yourself of use."

He didn't say what would happen if I failed. He didn't need to. Death would be the kindest possible option in that case, and I knew better than to hope for it.

One of the weird, creepy-looking robed servants entered the room. It (for there was no sign of its gender visible, and I could tell, even at a glance, that whatever humanity it had once possessed had been ripped from it long ago) carried a crystal box within which rested something which resembled a cross between a crown of black metal and a giant spider. Even through the shroud of sheer malevolence which radiated from the Emperor like an unholy halo, I could feel the malign hunger of the object.

"This is a Phobis device," the Emperor said. "One of three such engines, the study of which led the Dread Masters to the heights of power they now enjoy."

I knew of the Dread Masters. Erebus had taught me everything about them : he was a great admirer of their work, and had fought alongside them on several campaigns before their disappearance. One time, he'd brought a bunch of their victims to Sicarus, civilians and soldiers from the Republic and Empire both, to study the effects of the Dread Masters' powers.

"This is your test," continued the master of all Sith. "Your goal is simple : endure. If you survive with enough of your mind intact to serve me as the Dread Masters do, then you shall live."

The idea of becoming like these nightmarish lords was horrifying, but the thought of disobeying the Emperor was even more so. So I stayed on my knees as the servant took the Phobis device out of its container. I felt the power that bled from it, and knew then that the servant wouldn't live another day, for the energies of the Phobis device were already ravaging its body, having found its mind too empty to be worth breaking.

It took every bit of self-control I possessed not to lash out and try escaping. It would be pointless, I kept repeating to myself : Scourge was still in the room, and what hope did a mere apprentice like myself have of evading both the Emperor's Wrath and the Emperor himself ? No, my best chance of making it through this, tenuous as it was, was to go through this trial and hope against hope I made it through while still being myself.

Then the Phobis device slipped over my head, and there was no more time to think, no more time to do anything but endure. I felt fear, greater than anything I'd ever known in all my years in Sicarus, amplified and sent back at me by the device, again and again, in a loop that kept going further and further. Reason and sanity deserted me, leaving naught but stark, raving madness in their place. I distantly felt my body collapse, felt the touch of the cold metal deck against my cheek as I twitched in an undignified pile of gibbering flesh.

But I knew fear. I had known it for years, for all of my life that I remembered. I had used it to keep me alive, and then, at the hour of blackest despair, I had wielded it as a weapon to kill my Master. And so, even as my mind crumbled, a core of my self endured, protected by my self-preservation instincts.

An eternity passed, and my torment receded. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, my thoughts began to piece themselves together.

"You have survived. Good."

I twitched at the sound of the Emperor's voice. Somehow, I'd forgotten he was there.

"Rise," he commanded.

I wanted nothing more than to remain on the ground, but I knew that if I did so, I would die. So I buried my fear, pushed it away and into the Force. Ice spread around me in every direction but the Emperor's throne as I forced myself to my feet, using the Force to keep myself from collapsing.

I looked up at where the Emperor sat, and was relieved to see that he wasn't smiling. I didn't think I could have survived the sight of him smiling, after everything.

"You have passed your trial, and proven yourself worthy of all that you have usurped from your fallen Master. Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth Cain," he proclaimed. "All that belonged to Erebus is now yours : his title, his servants, and his duties. You will serve me as he did : a leader of my armies, to crush my enemies."

Me, a Darth ? And replacing Erebus ? The very idea was ridiculous. I'd spent years as an apprentice – a slave, in truth. And now, just like that, the Emperor had elevated me to the very heights of Sith authority. I could already feel the target this would paint on my back.

"Yes, your Imperial Majesty," I replied, ignoring the pain in my throat as I forced the words out.

"Go," he said – the first and last of the elder monster's orders I would ever follow gladly.

I walked out of the throne room, not believing that I'd somehow made it, expecting a lightsaber or bolt of lightning to the back with every step. Scourge followed me, and once we were out and the pressure of the Emperor's presence had diminished (but not completely faded : in that moment, I didn't believe it would ever completely leave me), led me back through the station's corridors.

Now, the Sith Lords who dwelled in the space station looked at me with the eyes burning with jealousy, wondering how a wretch such as I could have survived an audience with their Master. I didn't give them so much as a glance, knowing that to show weakness would see me dead. The perception of the Emperor's favor would not protect me, for if any of them could kill me, then clearly I had been unworthy of it in the first place.

Scourge took me to a different hangar than the one we'd landed in, and led me to a ship that, even to my inexperienced eyes looked top-of-the-line, all black metal and sharp angles.

"This ship has been programmed to take you to the current location of Darth Erebus' forces," said Scourge. "You'll learn more about his assignment once you arrive."

He paused briefly, as if hesitating, then added :

"Good luck, Darth Cain. May the Force serve you well."

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to draw my lightsaber and cut him down, or be cut down in turn, just so that this would end.

But I didn't. Instead, I poured my fear into the Force again, causing a layer of ice to form on every other ship in the hangar. In the distance, the workers who'd been tending to another vessel slipped and scrambled away from us, no doubt scared of getting caught in whatever the two Sith Lords (for I was one such being now, Force help me) were up to.

"May it serve you as well, Lord Scourge," I replied, and turned to walk up the ramp, into the ship and whatever awaited me next. "Until we next meet."

Though I didn't know it at the time, we would indeed meet again, several times – although our final meeting would take place in circumstances neither of us could ever have imagined at the time.

---

Now we borrow the voice of the wise grandmothers. We speak in the tongue of the slaves who dare dream of freedom, now delivered by those who knew the heaviest chains of all. We speak through the medium of old legends, to deliver an older truth.

Listen, sibling, and listen well. We tell you this story to save your life.

Long, long ago, there lived the Dark One. His cruelty had no limit, his hunger for suffering and corruption no bound. Where he walked, rivers of tears flowed, and he drank deep from the torment he caused, growing strong from it, strong enough to break all those who sought to stop his evil.

For many, many years, the Dark One wandered the stars, inflicting unspeakable horrors upon all who crossed his path. His name was feared and reviled in equal measure, but the Dark One was not satisfied, for despite all his power, he could only be in one place at once to perpetrate his evil.

Then, one day, the Dark One had a terrible idea : if he could only be in one place at a time, then he would make more of himself. And the Dark One wouldn't make when he could steal, and so he stole children and brought them to his castle of torments to make them into copies of himself.

"Rejoice, children," he told them all. "For you shall grow strong, and one of you shall be made perfect."

The children shuddered and wept, for they recognized the Dark One's evil. But they were only children, and there was nothing they could do against the Dark One and his enslaved, broken minions.

And so the children were hurt, and hurt, and hurt, to break them so that they would become as hollow as the Dark One had always been. They were fed poison distilled from the Dark One's vile blood, and lies and truths mixed to bring as much pain as possible as they passed through their guts. But truly breaking them in the way the Dark One desired was hard, because people were not, are not, and will never be like him, not unless all light in the universe has died.

But the Dark One didn't care. To him, it only meant he had more time to torment the children before they joined him in tormenting everyone else.

In the dark of the night, the children cried, and prayed that someone would come to save them. And people came, sibling. Heroes from distant lands, and even the Dark One's own kin, who couldn't abide his evil.

They came to slay the Dark One and free the ones he tormented, but the Dark One was cunning and powerful, and so they died instead, or were broken and remade to serve the Dark One's cruel desires as he wanted to break and remake the children. And the children lost hope, and one by one, they died from the poison the Dark One was pouring down their throats, until only three remained.

One was an oracle who could only see the worst possible future, blinded to anything else by the poison that had gathered in his eyes. The second was a songstress whose every word cursed those who heard them, for her tongue had been blackened by the Dark One's blood. And the third was Ekkreth, the Dark One's favorite, who had drunk the poison but hadn't broken, even as it burned away everything they had been.

In desperation, the three chose to defy the Dark One. They had learned many tricks from him, and grown a twisted strength from surviving his cruel tests. But evil cannot defeat evil, not truly. And so two of them fell, leaving only Ekkreth.

"Ah, Ekkreth," said the Dark One, his smile darker than the void between stars. "I see you are the last, in the end. Congratulations on passing my final test. Now it is time for you take your rightful place at my side."

Ekkreth was afraid, for they knew how strong the Dark One was better than anyone. But they were cunning, too, and a spark burned in their heart that all the tortures of the Dark One hadn't been able to extinguish.

They let the Dark One see their fear, let him think they had finally succeeded in breaking Ekkreth, and as the Dark One loomed over Ekkreth to gloat, as he always did, Ekkreth struck with a knife made of a shard of their own fractured soul. In that single blow, they poured all of their grief, all of their pain, all of their anger and all of their fear, and the Dark One fell.

But the Dark One was cunning too, and even as he fell, he cast a curse with his last breath, so that a piece of him would escape, and burrow its way into the heart of every soul to ever live. There, it would fester and feed and grow, so that, one day, the Dark One would rise again.

Only Ekkreth was spared from this curse, for they knew the Dark One well, and shielded themselves from it. Then, they walked out of the castle of the Dark One, lost and afraid still. They had learned all of the Dark One's tricks, and in their pain and terror, they vowed that they would never become what their master had wanted for them; swore to oppose him in every way they could, for, hurt and scared as they were, they could not imagine a worse doom than that.

And because Ekkreth had lost who they were to the Dark One's poison, they were no one. And so, ever since then, anyone can be Ekkreth if they choose to; can rise against the Dark One's evil, even if it hurts, even if they are afraid, even if they are alone.

This is the truth of it, sibling. There is a seed of the Dark One in you, just like there is one in everyone. And if you feed it cruelty, if you choose selfishness over kindness, apathy over compassion, it will grow and consume you from within, until you are Depur, an echo of the Dark One's evil. And you will live a miserable existence, for you will know, in your heart of hearts, that you have lost something important, and no amount of feeding the seed of ruin will fill the void.

But, and this is important, sibling, you can also become Ekkreth, and bring freedom to yourself and others instead. You can cultivate kindness, compassion, courage and wisdom.

And so the struggle between Ekkreth and Depur continues, and will continue until all are Free and the seeds of the Dark One are pried out from all hearts, everywhere. None who fight this struggle will see its end, sibling, but it must be fought, because the alternative is to let the Dark One return in a new guise, with a new name and a new voice.

And this must not, must never be. Do you hear us, sibling ? Do you understand us ? THIS MUST NOT BE. The Dark One must never return, or the circle of stars shall be sundered, and the lifeblood of all people shall become his nourishment, until another Ekkreth rises – but for all their cunning, all their tricks and disguises, Ekkreth cannot undo Depur's evil.

We tell you this story to save your life.

---

Yoda gasped as the vision ended. He blinked as his surroundings came back into focus, his small heart beating far faster than was healthy for someone his age.

He was in his meditation room in the Jedi Temple, where he'd retired after receiving Obi-Wan's report on the Savareen situation. He had come here to think, to consider what had happened and consult the Force on what the best course of action might be, now that an already unstable situation had escalated beyond all but their wildest expectations.

Already, the details of the vision were fading away, but Yoda remembered enough. Too much, even. Over his centuries of life, Yoda had seen many tragedies, many horrors, for even a galaxy free of the depredations of the Sith was still capable of much evil. But nothing like this.

Later, there would be time to consider the implications of what he had seen. Time to call Knight Vail to meet with him in private; time to speak with his friends, time to unpack the vision's meaning, time to discuss the best course for the Jedi Order and the Republic.

But for now, there was only one thing on Yoda's mind.

Slowly, feeling the weight of every one of his many years, the Grand Master of the Jedi Order set up a trio of mourning candles and lit them up. Once he was done, alone, with no one to look strong and wise for, he wept for three brave children no one had been able to save.

Notes:

AN : There were many people who suggested that Erebus die a ludicrous death, like slipping on a banana peel or from a food allergy. But while these make for great Omake ideas, I don't think they'd have fit with the actual story.

Because Erebus' sole narrative purpose is to make everything worse : he is a kind of grimdark singularity, bending the setting around him to make it a worse place than if he didn't exist in it. If you came to this story from the Star Wars side of things and aren't familiar with Warhammer 40000 lore at all, know that I'm not exaggerating when I say that the Vile One's only function in any story in which he appears is to make things worse for everybody.

Don't worry : we'll get back to wacky adventures, zany misunderstandings, and impostor syndrome in the next chapter. I expect there'll be a short hiatus before it comes out, as I need to smooth out the details of the next story arc before I can properly start writing it.

In the meantime, I look forward to your thoughts on this unique chapter.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 13: Ripples

"It has been two weeks since the Scourging of Savareen, where the Sith Lord Darth Cain utterly crushed the criminal forces gathering there with the alleged intent of raiding the desert planet of Tatooine, which fell under the Lord of Terror's umbrella when his apprentice brutally murdered Jabba the Hutt."

"Since then, the worlds of the Damocles Sector have overwhelmingly declared themselves in support of Perlia's intention of seceding from the Republic, which would mean the planet's withdrawal from the accords enforcing the spaceships' restrictions of the Ruusan Reformations. Due to the recent reveal that the Invincible, Darth Cain's flagship, was not in fact suffering from a disabled hyperdrive as had previously been claimed –"

Senator Padmé Amidala turned off the display, silencing the voice of the Holonet News reporter. She knew all of this – she knew more about it than the reporter, thanks to her position and sources. For instance, she knew that, contrary to what the newsbeing had insinuated, Darth Cain hadn't lied about the state of the Invincible : the ship's hyperdrive had indeed been disabled … until it had been repaired by none other than Anakin Skywalker, the Padawan who had helped save her world from the Trade Federation years before.

Which, admittedly, didn't change much when it came to the greater political and strategic situation, but did at least mean that Darth Cain hadn't lied to the Republic, which Padmé felt was a good sign. And, with how chaotic things were nowadays, she would take all of those she could get.

The woman who was one of the youngest Human Senators in galactic history (but not the youngest, as a quick search through the archives one slow afternoon had turned out), sighed and leaned back into her sinfully comfortable chair. The lounge area of the Consular-class cruiser (more commonly referred to as a Republic cruiser) Alderaanian Dawn was, in Padmé's opinion, just a touch more gaudy than she was comfortable with. But she wouldn't say anything about it out loud, especially since the owner of the ship, her esteemed colleague and dear friend, Bail Organa, sat in front of her.

R2-D2 was standing next to them, broadcasting a signal that would trump most spying devices. There should be no such device aboard the Alderaanian Dawn, of course, but Padmé had been a Senator for several years, and a certain degree of paranoia had unfortunately become ingrained habit by now. The little astromech had been the recipient of several improvements over the years she had taken it as her own following its exemplary contribution to the Battle of Naboo, and she had come to think of it as a cherished companion, even if she still needed a translator to understand it.

"So," began the Senator of Alderaan once they had both confirmed their various anti-spying countermeasures were up and running – though this was Bail's ship, there were other people aboard, and it was better to be safe than sorry. "Let's talk about Perlia one more time. You've read the transcript of Cain's declaration to the envoys, right ? The one where he explains his motivations for fighting a war against the Cartels and ending slavery in the Outer Rim ?"

"Yes," replied Padmé. "I must admit, this pursuit of growth through conflict he described doesn't make much sense to me." As a politician, she cleaved to the Republic's ideals of cooperation and strength through diversity, with peace as the foundation of prosperity. "But Cain is a Sith, and one who was trained by Darth Erebus to boot. Frankly, it's a miracle his philosophy led him to such a conclusion instead of something worse."

Padmé suppressed a shiver as she spoke. There were very few public records of Darth Erebus' activities during the First Great Galactic War : both the Republic and the Empire had gone to great lengths to erase as much of the Vile One's legacy as possible, and historians trying to uncover more had a tendency to go mad with horror and end their own lives. There were some who claimed this was the result of some ancient curse, but the Jedi believed it was merely due to the sheer extent of Erebus' depravity, which in Padmé's opinion was even worse than the curse explanation.

But she had uncovered enough during her own investigations to know it was a wonder Darth Cain was capable of basic conversation, let alone leading a Sith faction not as drenched in blood and cruelty as most of them. Given the Lord of Terror's various exploits since his return, that was something they should all be grateful for.

"I'm surprised by the degree of support we're seeing from the rest of Damocles, though," she continued. "I knew anti-Republic sentiment was growing all across the Outer Rim, but there's still quite a jump between resenting the Senate's inefficiency and jumping into bed with a Sith Lord."

The Damocles Sector had been part of the Sith Empire after the First Great Galactic War. Apart from Perlia, however, they had mostly forgotten that part of their history – probably because they hadn't had someone like Cain leading them, and instead more … typical Sith Lords and rulers. The fact that they were still willing to rally to Cain's banner despite that was a bitter reminder of how low the Republic's stock had gotten beyond the Middle Rim.

"From what he's told me over the holo, Donali isn't exactly enthusiastic about secession," said Bail, trying to comfort her. "But he will follow the people's decision and do everything in his power to make sure it works out for the best."

Technically, the Damocles Senator would lose all official authority the moment the Sector's secession was enacted, since he would no longer be needed to represent the worlds of the Sector to the rest of the Republic. But, unlike many Senators from the Outer Rim, Erasmus Donali was actually well-liked and respected by his constituents.

He'd spent his time in the Senate advocating for greater support from the Core to the Rim, and while he hadn't found much success, his people were aware that he'd at least tried. Which, sadly, was more than could be said for many of his peers, who were more interested in filling their pockets and enjoying Coruscant's luxuries than serving their electorate's interests.

So there was little doubt that Donali would continue to serve some function once the Damocles Sector parted ways with the Republic. If nothing else, Darth Cain would be a fool to let someone as experienced and well-known go, and the Sith Lord had proven himself no fool.

"It will be a shame to lose his voice in the Senate," sighed Padmé. "He's one of the few Senators from the Outer Rim who take his responsibility to his constituents seriously."

"Which is one of the reasons why the Separatist Movement is gathering so much support in the Outer Rim," pointed out Bail. "Truth be told, I don't think anyone can stop the Damocles Sector from leaving the Republic at this point. And who knows how many other systems will follow. With Count Dooku clearly supporting Darth Cain, even the reputation of the Sith won't be enough for many of them."

The fact that the Count of Serenno, who had been the public face of the Separatists for as long as there had been a Movement to speak of, was apparently willing to follow another's lead, had been a surprise to Padmé. Especially since the Count had been a Jedi once. She wasn't well versed in the esoteric mysteries of the Force, but she knew that the Jedi served its Light Side, while the Sith drew power from the Dark Side. Given the historical records which had become so widespread in recent months, it wasn't difficult to equal those sides to 'Good' and 'Evil' respectively.

"Dooku's focus, and that of the Separatist Movement, has always been against the Republic," said Bail. "But their central motivation is the good of the worlds they feel have been neglected or outright abused by the system. And destroying the Hutts' rule over the Outer Rim would certainly be a great step toward that goal."

"The Hutts don't actually rule the Outer Rim, not in the way we think of it," Padmé explained. "That's a convenient illusion they've fostered in the Republic, in order to present themselves as the 'legitimate' rulers of the systems they exploit – an unsavoury state of affairs, but still preferable to complete chaos and anarchy which might spread beyond their borders. In truth, outside of their garden worlds, the Hutts aren't a government, but exactly what their name implies : a cartel, a criminal group draining the wealth of entire civilizations to fill their coffers."

"One might say they aren't that different from the megacorps, then," Bail remarked, his serious expression banishing any notion that his words were in jest.

"Yes," agreed Padmé with equal seriousness. "One certainly might."

The fact that Nute Gunray had managed to retain his position as Viceroy of the Trade Federation after three full trials before the Supreme Court of the Republic, and was expected to go through the ongoing fourth without facing anything more than another series of fines that, while crippling to anyone else, would merely put a dent in his vast personal fortune, was a source of great frustration for the Naboo Senator. And she was painfully aware that, despite the suffering her people had endured during the occupation, Naboo had gotten off easy compared to most worlds targeted by the megacorps, whose plight would never make it on the Holonews.

Too many Republic citizens saw the Outer Rim as a lawless, backward expanse, fit only to produce raw resources for the industries of the Mid-Rim and the Core. That image, she knew, had been carefully cultivated in holodramas and biased news reports, most of which could unsurprisingly trace their financing to those very same megacorps which benefited from the Republic's general apathy to the Outer Rim's plight.

It was an infuriating situation, and one she could do precious little about.

"Between the Cartels and the corps, it isn't surprising that so many are in support of Darth Cain's actions," sighed Bail. "From their perspective, the Republic has failed them, doing nothing to help, while the Lord of Terror went on the offensive within days of his return."

"Speed is one of the advantages of autocracy, yes," replied Padmé. "But it has its flaws as well, as the denizens of the old Sith Empire could attest. Democracy is still the best system for the greater number … so long as it runs as it should," she added, leaving unspoken the fact that such wasn't the Republic's case, despite Palpatine's best efforts since taking office.

"You know you don't need to convince me," replied Bail with a small smile. Alderaan had long been a bastion of Republican ideals, and Bail was a true believer : it was why the two of them had become friends in the first place, beyond the aligned interests of their respective worlds. "But the Perlians aren't going to be so easily persuaded."

"Indeed. Like you said, at this point, Perlia's secession is inevitable, and preventing the Damocles Sector from following suit is a fool's hope. The question is how to prevent relations between the Republic and whatever new polity appears as a result from being outright hostile."

"That depends heavily on Darth Cain's goals." Bail gestured at the silent holo-screen. "I expected that the war against the Hutts would keep him occupied for the foreseeable future, but the Scouring is forcing me to reconsider. If he can pull off that kind of victory reliably against the Cartels, who knows how long it will be before the Sith flag flies over Nal Hutta itself ?"

"It won't be that easy," said Padmé. "Even if the Hutts cannot defeat him in battle, the sheer size of the Outer Rim will play against him. The Invincible can only be in one place at a time, and even after Savareen, the Hutts have plenty of disposable blaster fodder they can throw at defiant systems."

There was a reason the Hutts had remained a galactic power for so long, and it wasn't just because of their knack for consistently making themselves out as the lesser evil.

"Darth Cain must know this, though," Bail pointed out. "He is too skilled a strategist not to. Which means he has a plan to deal with the situation."

"Well, of course," agreed Padmé. "My best guess is that he will join forces with the Separatist Movement through Count Dooku and build some kind of unified Outer Rim army, dedicated to eradicating the influence of the Cartels. Dooku has been on Perlia as long as Donali himself : I wouldn't be surprised if they're in the final stages of hammering out the details of such an agreement."

Of course, the very existence of such an army would give ammunition to the warmongers in the Senate, who would call for the creation of a military of their own in order to defend the Republic from such an obvious potential enemy. Nevermind that even the likes of Darth Cain and Count Dooku were likely to be occupied for decades cleaning up the Outer Rim even if they somehow managed to break the Cartels' power. Once again, Padmé saw in her mind's eye how this could all too easily lead to an escalation which would tear the galaxy in two, not just politically (as seemed now to be inevitable) but militarily as well.

"It seems likely, yes," Bail nodded. "But if there's one thing Darth Cain has proven himself good at since his return, it's surprising everyone by making moves nobody saw coming. Still, if we are lucky, having an idealist like Count Dooku at his side will help keep the Lord of Terror from sliding back into his old ways," suggested Bail. "If the Count can help Cain appear 'civilised' to the Core, then maybe we can avoid a new Great Galactic War."

"I certainly hope so," Padmé agreed whole-heartedly. "Now, let's talk about our approach once we get to Perlia ourselves …"

---

Sitting cross-legged in her cabin aboard the Alderaanian Dawn, letting the Force flow through her as the ship sailed through hyperspace, Amberley thought back to her meeting with Master Yoda.

The Grand Master had asked her to meet him in private the day after the Council meeting where Skywalker's actions and Ciaphas' victory on Savareen had been discussed. At the time, she'd thought nothing of it : it only made sense to discuss the matter with her, given her experience with him. Instead, right after being let into Yoda's private quarters and handed a cup of (perfectly brewed) tea, the Grand Master had declared :

"From the Force, a vision, received I have. Of the past, long ago. Of the child who was Ciaphas."

She had frozen in place at hearing that name spoken by Yoda. Nobody knew what Darth Cain had been called before his ascension at the Sith Emperor's command : everyone who had known him then had died alongside Erebus. She had only learned the Lord of Terror's birth name years into their association, when they had gone from being occasional allies against mutual foes to something the rest of the Order would have taken a much dimmer view of.

Amberley had known Yoda would seek the guidance of the Force, obviously. The Jedi had not changed so much over the last three and a half thousand years. But for some reason, the thought that the secrets Ciaphas had kept for so long would be uncovered in this way had never crossed her mind.

She had wondered how much the Force had revealed to the Grandmaster, and what he was going to do about it. Then Yoda had continued :

"Seen glimpses of the Vile One's deeds, I have. Mourn for the children he took and broke, I do. To help the one who remains, I wish."

Oh. Of course, she had realized. She should have known.

Compassion. Somehow, out of all the ways in which she'd thought the Grand Master of the Jedi Order might react to learning more about Darth Cain's past, she hadn't considered this one – and she really should have. Especially in this peaceful era, one couldn't rise to lead the entire Order without being a deeply kind and compassionate being.

Perhaps, she'd reflected, she was too used to the Jedi leaders being hardened by the endless rigors and trials of the war against the Empire. It had been inevitable, she knew, perhaps even necessary (though there'd been plenty of debate on the subject even back in her time), but for all the great things the Knights of the Old Republic had achieved, there was no denying they'd paid an equally great price.

After that shocking revelation, the two of them had talked at length. She had shared many things with the Grandmaster, things she had thought she would have to take to her grave. Others, she had kept to herself, and she knew Yoda knew that too.

One of the things she had shared was her conviction that Darth Cain was a mask worn by Ciaphas, first in order to survive the murderous politics of the Sith Lords, and then because it was all he knew. And that, underneath that mask, was a genuinely good man, whose world-view had been warped by his past, yet who still sought to do the right thing.

Yoda had been surprised, but whatever it was he'd seen had been enough to convince him to trust her words on this matter. Ultimately, they had decided to keep the secret of Darth Cain's true nature, for the Lord of Terror's mask was needed to keep the other Sith under control. Not that the likes of Vaylin would believe the words of the Jedi Order on anything, let alone where her beloved Teacher was concerned.

At the very least, Amberley was now confident she and Yoda were on the same page when it came to preventing a reprise of the Galactic Wars. With the Invincible being repaired, fear of Darth Cain had increased a great deal, partially due to some irresponsible Holonews media suggesting the Lord of Terror could use the superdreadnought to raze Coruscant – which was ridiculous for so many reasons Amberley hadn't bothered listing them. So, having the Grand Master of the Jedi Order on side to keep people from panicking and doing something stupid was a great step in the right direction in Amberley's opinion.

When the new diplomatic party to Perlia had been announced, Yoda had asked her if she wanted to escort the Senators, given her expertise. She had accepted immediately : the more diplomatic ties existed between the Republic and Ciaphas' nascent Sith Empire (no matter whether he'd accepted it or not, or what it ended up being called in the end), the greater their chances to prevent war between the two states.

There was another reason for her joining the party, one far more personal : Amberley wanted to see Ciaphas. She wanted to hug him, to feel his presence in the Force close at hand rather than sense its echoes rippling across the galaxy. She also wanted to slap him for stressing her out that much, and getting himself into such a situation that had led to the Scouring in the first place.

Soon, she told herself. Right now, Ciaphas was still on Savareen, but he would return to Perlia soon, and she would see him again.

She just hoped nothing else dramatic happened before then. But, given Ciaphas' tumultuous relationship with luck, she wasn't holding her breath.

---

"Chancellor Palpatine," Dooku greeted the projected image of his Master. Unlike all the times the two of them had communicated in his private office on Serenno, he didn't kneel or even bow : he merely nodded, respectful but without giving any hint of subservience.

"Count Dooku," replied Palpatine. "Thank you for accepting to talk to me. I understand you are very busy these days."

"Things have certainly been interesting here on Perlia," he allowed, letting himself smile slightly.

The two of them had to be very careful. There was no telling whether or not the message would be intercepted by Cain's operatives, and so the conversation would seem entirely normal to anyone listening in : the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic contacting the former Jedi and current Count of Serenno and figurehead of the Separatist Movement to discuss diplomatic matters on a private channel.

Fortunately, both of them had carefully cultivated reputations as peace-seeking diplomats, so that when the time came to tear the galaxy in two, both of them could maintain a facade of being reluctantly forced to lead their respective side against the other. Even if word spread that they had spoken, neither would suffer a blow to their image – if anything, people would praise them for still being willing to talk to one another despite their differences.

On the surface, the two politicians were discussing the new diplomatic party on its way from Coruscant. The actual conversation, between Master and Apprentice, took place using code words and a sign language composed entirely of innocuous gestures one of Darth Bane's line had designed a few centuries ago. Given that Imperial Intelligence had tangled with Sith Lords during its entire existence, the two of them had decided prior to Dooku's departure for Perlia that they would only use this method in times of greatest needs, as every use ran the risk of the Lord of Terror's spies figuring out the trick and deciphering the language.

Eventually, the surface conversation ended, as politely and innocently as it had begun, and the Supreme Chancellor's hologram disappeared, leaving Dooku alone in his chamber.

The code was an extremely basic one, with a limited vocabulary. Over the course of their entire conversation, Sidious had only been able to slip a grand total of three coded sentences :

I have sent an agent on a mission to your location. They will contact you once their preparations are ready. Assist them in their mission.

That was it. No information as to who the agent was, or what their mission might be. There were other code words and passphrases Sidious would have taught this operative in order to authenticate themselves to Dooku, but the code didn't allow for such details to be passed along.

In return, Dooku had sent an equally brief message :

Understood. My allegiance to you remains unsuspected. Cain still believes you to be in the Outer Rim.

Dooku contemplated his situation, something he'd found himself doing more and more frequently of late. He had spent longer on Perlia than he'd expected when he had arrived, though in truth, the situation back then had been confusing enough that he hadn't known what to expect. His affairs on Serenno were in the hands of his trusted subordinates, and his work with the Separatist Movement was still going well, although obviously things had changed with Darth Cain's return and war against the Cartels.

The Count was walking a tight rope, and he knew it. He still hadn't told Sidious how Cain had seen through his disguise on their very first meeting, identifying him as a Darksider with a mere glance despite the Sith arts he'd used to conceal his change of allegiance from the rest of the galaxy's Force-sensitives. He knew that, had Sidious learned this, his position would have shifted from an ally in a useful position to a possibly catastrophic leak : all it would take was for Dooku to reveal Sidious' identity to Darth Cain, and … well, Dooku wasn't sure what exactly would happen, but he was fairly certain it wouldn't be to his Master's advantage.

And Sidious was aware of this possibility, of course. Therefore, it stood to reason that Dooku's Master had contingencies in place to eliminate him should he betray him to the Lord of Terror. Was that why this 'agent' was being sent to Perlia ? To kill the Count of Serenno in a way that would be blamed on Darth Cain, so as to weaken a rival's power while neutralizing a potential threat ?

It was possible. Which was why Dooku hadn't informed Sidious about this, though he hadn't outright lied, knowing his Master was much more likely to detect outright deceit. Instead, he had used the limitations of the code to his advantage. After all, it was (to his knowledge) true that Darth Cain still didn't know Dooku was related to the Sith Lord whose minion had attacked Perlia.

Another source of tension was that Dooku still didn't know what Cain's greater plans were. His triumph on Savareen had been a demonstration of his personal power, even before the Invincible had arrived to crush the Hutt fleet. In one fell swoop, the Lord of Terror had reminded the entire galaxy of what he was capable of, while augmenting his fleet with a number of captured vessels to supplement his flagship.

The Count of Serenno wondered if that was how things were going to be in the future : periods of quiet during which the followers of Cain built up infrastructure and resources, followed by a brief burst of activity, with the Sith Lord taking the lead and casually achieving the unthinkable, leaving his minions to scramble to catch up to him. It would certainly fit what the ancient records told of the man's actions during the Great Galactic Wars.

And then, to top it all off, there was the matter of Skywalker. Dooku had sensed his strength in the Force the moment he'd met him, but that potential had been raw, unfocused. He had thought it would take years for Skywalker to become someone of any real importance on the board, let alone a threat. Yet the boy had done what every Sith technician under Darth Cain's command had previously thought impossible, hastening the repairs of the Invincible's hyperdrive from months to hours.

Mere technical knowledge couldn't explain this. Even genius wasn't good enough to justify such a feat : it had to have been the Force at work, guiding the Padawan to accomplish something far more impactful than any display of telekinesis.

Once the boy returned to Perlia with Darth Cain and the Jedi envoys, Dooku would have to tread carefully around him. Skywalker was certain to have earned Cain's favor and attention for such a deed, and the Count would have to both be courteous and not reveal his Dark nature – for the boy was still a Padawan, and would without a doubt share it with his Master, which would be … awkward, to say the least. Dooku didn't want to fight Qui-Gon's student, and the fact it would be looked upon poorly by Darth Cain wasn't even the main reason why.

Dooku sighed, another thing he was doing more and more often these days. This … this wasn't what he had in mind when he'd left the Order. But even back then, he had known that great change wouldn't come without great effort.

For now, he would continue playing the role his Master expected of him, while remaining vigilant for any danger coming from Coruscant.

After all, he reflected, treachery was the way of the Sith.

---

Vice's Virtues emerged from hyperspace, one more step of the journey from Nal Hutta to Dathomir completed. In the pilot's cabin, Hanar started the automated engine checks, along with scans of the nameless, empty system in which she'd stopped – she didn't expect any trouble, but that didn't mean she should get sloppy – then got out of the pilot's chair.

The ship was a small, fast thing, with just enough cargo space for supplies for one and a crate or two of stolen valuables. But it was enough for Hanar to stretch her legs and brood on her situation. She had accepted Marlo's offer because, well, what else was she going to do ? Say no to the Hutt crime lord who had her in a cell ? Yeah, that would have gone really well.

After the disaster at Savareen, she knew she was lucky to be alive. Sure, her faulty intel on the Invincible didn't have anything to do with the utter carnage that had taken place on the planet, but it was the Sith flagship which had led the capture of most of the fleet the crime lord had gathered in the system.

At least the bastard had ordered her ship checked out and repaired free of charge, ostensibly so that she wouldn't die in an accident before she'd a chance to fulfil her mission for him. Of course, Hanar wasn't stupid : she knew Marlo's technicians had probably used the opportunity to fill the craft with spying and tracking devices. But while she couldn't do anything about the latter without risking to piss Marlo off, she had ways of dealing with the former, and Marlo would probably be disappointed in her if she didn't use them.

When the ship's holocomm rang with an incoming transmission and she saw who was calling her, she was very, very glad she'd taken the time to sweep the ship for bugs. This wasn't a conversation she wanted Marlo to hear – nor was it one she wanted to have herself, but she was darkly certain she couldn't afford to ignore the call.

With a sigh, she accepted the call, and a hooded figure appeared in the holo-projector.

"Hello, Miss Hanar," said a voice she had heard in her nightmares from time to time ever since the creep it belonged to had first strong-armed her into working for him. "I am most pleased to see that you're still alive. I had feared the worst, given recent events."

"No thanks to you," she spat back, just pissed off enough to not be as careful as she usually was when talking with the nameless figure (in her mind, she called him 'the Hooded Freak'). "That intel you wanted me to give to Marlo turned out to be a hot pile of poodoo, didn't it ?"

"I assure you, I truly believed the Invincible to be disabled at the time," he replied, still infuriatingly calm. "As a matter of fact, I have since learned the details of how exactly it is that it came to be in Savareen."

"Marlo would pay handsomely for that intel, but I can't be the one to give it to him, if that's why you're calling. No way he'll trust it coming from me now."

"Indeed, and that is not why I am contacting you. I am curious, what exactly does our dear Hutt friend have you do at present ? You are … my, my, quite some distance from his palace, aren't you. Unless, of course, you managed to escape his clutches on your own ?"

Kriff. They had been talking for less than two minutes, and he had already managed to track her ship – unless he was bluffing, but Hanar's instincts told her he wasn't. Had he put a tracker on her ship ? He must have, but when ? She hadn't been anywhere near the Core in years, and somehow she doubted the Hooded Freak had left Coruscant in a long time. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't have other people like her working for him …

She mentally shook her head, even as she let none of her thoughts show on her face, and replied aloud :

"Of course not. He let me out to do a job for you, like you said."

"And what," the Hooded Freak repeated, "is that ?"

Hanar really wanted to tell him to kriff himself, but she knew she was in enough trouble already without pissing him off.

"After what happened at Savareen, Marlo is worried about going up against the Sith without some Force-users of his own," she began explaining, hoping the Hutt wouldn't learn how quickly she'd shared his orders with her previous employer. "Since the Jedi aren't likely to help him, no matter how much he offers to pay them, he's told me to go recruit some cult of witches on a planet called Dathomir. They're supposed to have mystic powers of their own, different from both the Jedi and the Sith."

Not long ago, Hanar would have dismissed the whole thing as superstitious nonsense, but things had changed since the Lord of Terror had returned. She had watched the pictures of the blasted wasteland where the Sith had fought the Hutt mercenaries, as well as the reports Marlo had given her of the terror which had swept the fleet before Cain had made planetfall.

"… I see," replied the Hooded Freak after contemplating her words for a moment. "I have some knowledge of the world and witches in question. You may proceed with your mission," he decreed, as if he could've stopped her from doing Marlo's bidding all the way from Coruscant – which, kriff, she really hoped wasn't the case. "Do everything in your power to ensure it is a success. Do not let the witches' primitive appearance deceive you : they are as cunning as they are cruel. I will send you an information package with some of the relevant information, so you can at least avoid the kind of cultural faux-pas that will end with your animated corpse joining their undead legions."

That was an option ?! Hanar briefly reconsidered whether she should have just taken a blaster bolt to the head, before her good sense reasserted itself.

"Are you sure I can trust that intel anymore than I could trust the last bit of it you told me ?" she asked, daring to let a hint of her true feelings show in her voice.

"You are free to use the information I send you or dismiss it," the Hooded Freak shrugged. "I understand why you would doubt me after what happened, but I assure you, I wish for Marlo's victory in his struggle against Darth Cain. That man is a threat to the both of us, however unlikely our alliance might be."

Interesting. So, her theory about Hooded Freak being some kind of Republican big-wig who wanted to stop the Sith Lord but couldn't do it openly was probably right. Hanar didn't know what she could do with that information, but she still filed it away for later use.

"I wish you good luck on your mission, Miss Hanar," he said, every word dripping with unspoken menace. "I shall be in touch."

The holo-projector shut off as the connection was severed on the Hooded Freak's end, leaving the thief alone to mull on what had just happened. A few minutes later, her holocomm pinged with a new notification : she had just received a data package, which had gone through so many intermediaries before reaching her attempting to track it back to its source was a job for a slicer of far greater skill than her.

For a long moment, Hanar looked at the screen. Then, with a sigh, she sat down and prepared to read through the entire package. She didn't think the Hooded Freak would send her false intel to sabotage her mission on Dathomir, not so quickly, at least. And, though she hated being used as a pawn, she was still going to use every advantage she could in order to succeed.

At least, she reflected as she looked at the list of files in the package, she wouldn't be bored on her journey.

---

Mother Talzin watched as the small ship descended from the skies and landed in the mists of Dathomir. She could sense the singular mind aboard it, and the touch the great powers which had guided it to this world, where her sisterhood had resided for millennia.

"Mother," whispered one of the Nightsisters she'd brought with her on this expedition. "Are you certain this is the best path ?"

No, she wasn't, but she couldn't say so. That the Nightsister even dared to question her was proof enough of how unsure they all were of the course of action she had chosen : if Talzin herself were to show any hesitation, their confidence would completely crumble, and they would be doomed.

But, though Talzin wasn't certain of her chosen course of action, she still believed it to be the best out of a number of bad options. Months ago, she had felt the return of an ancient darkness, one which had been old long before the time of her people. While Dathomir was isolated from galactic affairs, the Nightsisters still had means of communicating with the rest of the galaxy, and it hadn't taken long for her to learn the source of the disturbance.

Before then, she had never heard the name of Darth Cain. That wasn't unusual : though the history of the Nightsisters stretched back centuries, the endless struggle between Jedi and Sith had gone on for millennia, the two dominant orders of Force users turning the entire galaxy into the battleground for their ancient feud. At the time, Talzin had believed that, even if Darth Cain was sensible enough to realize he couldn't challenge the Republic on his own, the Jedi would soon destroy Cain, unwilling to tolerate such a public threat to their prominence as the galaxy's most powerful and influential Force-users.

Instead, Cain had declared war on the Hutt Cartels through his apprentice. The very idea that a woman as powerful as Vaylin obviously was – for Talzin had sensed her power through her divinations, and it was mighty indeed – willingly served a mere male, even one as exceptional as Darth Cain, was an affront to the Nightsisters' tenets, but there was little Talzin could do about it. Watching the recording of her execution of Jabba and proclamation, it was obvious that Darth Cain had completely ensnared her in his web, even though she was so obviously his better.

Using that declaration of war, Cain had somehow managed to convince the Republican envoys that he had no hostile intentions toward the Republic. How the Jedi could have been so foolish as to believe those claims, Talzin still had no idea. Her first thought had been that the Sith Lord had used the Dark Side to bend the minds of the envoys, but surely the Jedi Council would have realized such an obvious ploy and taken it as a declaration of war.

The fact that hadn't happened meant that Darth Cain had to be a master manipulator of the highest order. That had only deepened Talzin's worries, and, then, two weeks ago, she'd felt the Lord of Terror proclaiming his power for all with ears to listen, as he bent the Dark Side to his will in order to break an entire army.

She had known, then, that if nothing changed, Darth Cain's victory over the Hutts was inevitable. Which, with the Republic unwilling to step in due to the Sith Lord's careful manipulations, left her only one option, dangerous though it may be. Isolation had served the Nightsisters well ever since their founding : they had remained distant from the Jedi Order, who had left them in peace despite their use of what they, in their holier-than-thou arrogance, decried as Dark arts.

But such isolation wouldn't work against a Sith, and she needed her sisters to understand that in order to avoid any incident going forward.

"Once, many, many years ago, long before any of our ancestors first set foot upon this world, it was under the dominion of the Sith," she began. "They enslaved it, used it for their own gain, to train their disciples before sending them off to join their wars in the stars – including one who would, in time, become their greatest champion as well as their destroyer, for such is the twisted way of the Sith than their greatest shall ever turn on the rest of them. Even now, centuries later, the scars of their reign still remain if you know where to look."

Talzin had seen those scars for herself, many years ago, when she had taken the trials to become the Clan Mother of the Nightsisters. There were things that dwelled there which even a Sith Lord would be wise to fear, born of ancient alchemy and sorcery followed by countless generations of breeding and evolution in caverns touched by the light of neither sun nor stars.

"I do not know exactly what game it is the Lord of Terror is playing by claiming he's fighting the Hutts to free the Outer Rim from their influence, but he is Sith," she continued. "And the Sith cannot, will not change their nature, no matter what veils they use to conceal it from others. His hunger for power will eventually lead him to us, and he will seek to subjugate us. When that happens, our only choice will be between submission and destruction – for though our collective sorcery might be a match for his power," and even that was far from certain, given the might he'd brought to bear on Savareen, "he would bring his legions with him, and they are far more experienced in warfare than us."

It wouldn't be the first time it happened. Years ago, Dathomir had been visited by a Sith, who had come claiming to want to share knowledge of the Dark Side with the Nightsisters. Talzin had welcomed him, but instead of making her his apprentice as promised, he had fled in the night, stealing her own son – a son he'd later sent to his doom, which she'd sensed echoing through the Force. She had spent long nights in her chambers, weeping at the bitter knowledge that there was nothing she could do to save him.

She wouldn't let the Sith take anything else from her, this she had vowed.

"That is why we must make alliance with the Hutts, however disgusting we might find the prospect," she concluded. "For, though they are cowardly, greedy, and vile, the Hutts are still reasonable beings, not consumed by the unending hunger that rules over all Sith, no matter what facade of sanity they project."

Around her, the Nightsisters nodded, understanding and acceptance blooming on their faces. Good. Now it was time for another performance, with someone who hadn't spent their entire life raised in a society that demanded constant reverence and obedience toward the Clan Mother. Talzin plastered a mysterious, all-knowing smile on her face, and walked toward the off-worlder, adjusting her approach so that, from their perspective, it would look like she'd materialized right out of the fog.

"Greetings, traveller," she declared, enjoying the way they jumped slightly at her sudden appearance. Behind her, the Nightsisters stayed back, forming vague, threatening silhouettes in the fog as they kept watch for any danger. "I am Talzin, Clan Mother of the Nightsisters, and you have come from very far away indeed to seek us."

"Esteemed Mother," the off-worlder – a Human woman, Talzin saw – said, bowing respectfully. "Your wisdom is visible in your words. I am called Hanar, and I come on behalf of another, who seeks an alliance with the Sisterhood against a common enemy."

Talzin already knew this, of course. Her visions had shown her Marlo the Hutt reaching out to the Nightsisters. After the humiliation he'd suffered at Savareen, the Hutt was desperately searching for allies. And of course, she had sensed the woman's arrival the moment her ship had descended through Dathomir's atmosphere and landed right in the Nightsisters' territory.

"What do the Hutts offer in exchange for our aid ?" Talzin asked. Allying with the Hutts might be in their own self-interest, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to use the opportunity to extort as much as she could from Marlo without earning his outright hostility.

"The great Marlo the Hutt has given me authority to promise you great riches," Hanar replied. "Treasure, weapons, technology, servants : whatever you might desire, he can grant in return for your help against the Sith."

For a long moment, Talzin remained silent, keeping her gaze locked on Hanar. She didn't need any of her mystical abilities to sense her nervousness : Hanar was scared of her, of this whole situation, but that wasn't all. She was afraid of failure, not just because of what might happen to her here, but because of what reporting failure to Marlo would mean for her.

Interesting. Talzin would make sure to remember that. She continued to stare for a few more seconds, her face still as stone, then, solemnly, she nodded.

"Very well," she declared, with all the gravitas she could muster. "The great Marlo's offer is of interest to us, for we are aware of the threat Darth Cain represents to the existing order of the Outer Rim. But such an alliance shall not be sealed with a representative, however esteemed in Marlo's eyes you might be."

"I'm afraid my ship doesn't have much to offer in terms of comfort," Hanar began hesitantly. "The great Marlo assumed that, once your agreement was secured, he would send greater vessels – ships whose arrival uninvited would have been an insult to you and your kin."

Talzin smiled, and waved her hand dismissively.

"Oh, fret not, Miss Hanar. I'm sure once you report back to your master, he will be more than happy to send another vessel fit to transport me and a suitable escort to Nal Hutta with the appropriate comfort."

"I … yes, esteemed Mother," Hanar nodded, before bowing once more. "You are correct. With your permission, I will contact him at once."

With that, the Human left, going back to her ship with almost unseemly haste. Talzin watched her walk away for a long moment, before turning away and walking into the fog, her Nightsisters forming around her as she began the walk back to their home.

The die was cast now, she thought ruefully. For better or worse, she and the Nightsisters were committed to this course. She could only hope Marlo would prove more competent a general than he'd shown so far.

---

Cad Bane walked into the bar, one hand never straying far from the gun at his hip. The bar was typical of its kind, no different from any of the hundreds of such dives Bane had visited in his life. Dark, dirty, offering a plethora of beverages catering to the tastes of a varied clientele – and no credit unless your face was known to the bartender.

The only thing of note about this particular bar was that it was located in a corner of a space station rather than on a planet. The space station, known to the pirates and outlaws of the Outer Rim as Port Maw, was a place where warbands could come to spend their ill-gotten gains under the benevolent (as long they kept up with their docking fees) gaze of the station's Hutt overlords.

Tracking his current quarry to that particular bar out of the hundreds of thousands which existed in the Outer Rim had taken a few days of investigation, but nothing Cad's extensive network of contacts couldn't help him with. Strictly speaking this wasn't part of the job he'd been hired to do, but the first part of that was putting together a crew. The Duros bounty hunter was good at what he did, but one of the reasons he'd lived long enough to become good at it was that he knew his limits.

If someone like Durge had managed to get himself killed fighting Cain, then Cad had no intention of crossing path with the Sith Lord. Fortunately, that wasn't what he'd been hired to do – telling his current employer no wouldn't have been good for his health, but still probably better than taking a contract on the Lord of Terror himself.

This particular job was going to take time to set up. He had until that new bunch of Senators left Perlia : his employer had been very particular that the job had to take place while the Republican diplomats were on the planet, and since they'd serve as a good distraction for the Sith security forces at worst and might do for a nice bunch of hostages in a pinch, Cad hadn't seen a reason to argue.

Time was going to be tight, though, but that was why he was being paid the big bucks.

Cad's gaze swept the bar, ignoring the looks everyone inside was giving him, and stopped on the white-skinned Palliduvan female with an antenna implant emerging from her skull sitting in a corner table. Keeping one hand close to his blaster, Cad slowly walked toward her – he didn't want her to think he was here to kill her, but he didn't want to show any weakness either, to her or the rest of the lowlifes in the bar – and sat opposite her.

"Hello, Sing," said the Duros.

"Bane," she replied neutrally, finally looking up from her drink – a concoction Cad was fairly sure would kill most sentients who tried it. "What do you want ?"

"You hear about the Perlian situation ?" he asked, lowering his voice so that it couldn't be heard over the noise of the bar, which, after a brief lull following the bounty hunter's entrance, was already picking up.

"Of course I have," she scoffed, following his lead and speaking softly. "I don't think there's anybody in the whole kriffing Rim who hasn't. What's that got to do with you ?"

"I'm putting together a crew for a job there," he told her bluntly. "And I got a feeling your talents would be a good fit for it, if you're interested."

"And risk getting into Cain's bad books ?" She narrowed her eyes at Cad. "I never took you for a fool, so I guess the real question is : what's the pay ?"

He told her, not even bothering to lie to downplay the amount. She would probably see through him if he tried, and this wasn't the kind of job where he could afford any double-crossing once the blaster bolts started flying. Not that he had anything against double-crossing on principle : he certainly had done more than his share himself, when the opportunity presented itself.

Aurra Sing stared at him, unable to completely conceal her eyes' widening at the sum.

"You sure your client's good for it ?" she asked eventually.

"Oh yeah," Cad nodded. "I've done some work for him in the past. Never quite so big as that, but the credits were there every time."

"… Fine, I'm in. Who else are you looking for ?"

"Oh ?" he teased her. "So sure the two of us aren't going to be enough ?"

"Please, Bane," she said in a dry tone. "You know I'm not an amateur, that's why you came to recruit me."

True. The two of them had already worked together on several jobs in the past, and while they weren't friends – there were no 'friends' in this job, just potential future targets – they respected each other's skills.

"We got a couple more people I want to find while I'm on the station," he conceded. "Finish your drink, and we'll go find them."

"Fine. And what exactly are we doing on Perlia ? I'm warning you, if it's offing the big man, I'm going to need a bigger cut."

"Oh, no," Cad shook his head. He didn't think Cain was invincible, no matter what his propaganda teams were doing a great job at convincing the galaxy, but he wasn't an idiot, either. "If things go well, we won't even meet the man. No, Sing, we're going to rob his vault."

---

If there was one thing all the power and influence I had accidentally gathered in my life couldn't help me with, it was paperwork. Being known as one of the few Sith Lords in history who wouldn't randomly execute a subordinate for bringing an issue to their attention meant that, when there was an issue, my subordinates actually brought it to me instead of trying to hide the problem so they wouldn't be punished for things outside of their control – which, inevitably, led to said problem becoming bigger and bigger until it eventually was discovered by the Sith Lord anyway.

So, while I knew without the shadow of a doubt that it was preferable to the alternative, it did mean that I had spent most of my time since that battle in the desert sitting behind a desk, reading reports and signing off on courses of action suggested by people who actually knew what they were doing.

My desire to avoid being seen as a bloodthirsty maniac by the Republic by not executing every Hutt mercenary we'd taken captive out of hand and instead giving them lawful trials had come back to haunt me, as I'd known it would. As it turned out, many of the criminals who'd surrendered to us rather than face certain death at the guns of the Invincible had warrants out for their arrests in numerous star systems.

Since the same criminal couldn't be executed twice on two different planets, a compromise of sorts had been decided. Representatives from the concerned systems had been invited to come to Savareen with the appropriate documentation so that it could be processed, and they could serve as witnesses to the punishments then delivered.

Malden and the other spooks were compiling the information brought by the plaintiffs, while also taking advantage of meeting so many people from so many different systems to continue weaving their webs of contacts, informants and spies anew.

The end result of all that was that I had spent weeks reading through compilations of various criminal acts, which ranged from common thuggery to deeds that wouldn't have looked out of place in the biographies of some of my more deranged peers back in the Sith Empire. At least I hadn't needed to swing my lightsaber personally to execute all those condemned to death : I had hundreds of soldiers perfectly willing to serve as part of the firing squads, and my shoulders might not have survived executing so many of the Outer Rim's scum.

Other Sith Lords might have tried to recruit the criminals instead, to conscript them as blaster fodder to bolster their legions, but I knew better. That kind of thing always ended up being more trouble than it was worth, either because the criminals turned on their handlers regardless of how many explosive collars you put around their necks, or a charismatic Jedi freed them and roused them to rebellion and joining the side of justice, freedom, and not being fried with Force Lightning at the drop of a hat.

I hadn't quite put it in those terms to my subordinates, of course. As far as they were concerned, the Lord of Terror simply refused to lower the standards for armed forces under his command, even when faced with the might of the Hutt Cartels. Somehow, instead of taking this as proof that my ego had overtaken my good sense, they were proud of it.

As an additional bonus, so long as I was away from Perlia, I couldn't sign the system's declaration of secession and create a whole new bunch of problems for myself down the line. But that tactic could only go so far, and now that a new bunch of Senators had (for some Force-forsaken reason) decided to make the trip to my adopted homeworld, I couldn't delay my return for much longer.

Besides, Amberley was there too. I missed her more than I would ever admit to anyone except her, and not just because she was the only person in the galaxy with whom I could be completely honest.

Speaking of Jedi, the three who'd come along the Invincible were overseeing the tribunals to 'make sure there weren't any irregularities', which I'd taken to mean 'no sentient rights abuse'. A perfectly understandable concern, and one I'd indulged several times in the past. Nothing surprised a Jedi or Republic General more than a Sith Lord being willing to let them visit the prison camps where their surrendered soldiers were being held captive, without it being part of some trap or plot, and keeping your opposition off-balance was always a worthwhile endeavour.

I would normally have been worried about the three of them wandering around my forces, but after the stunt Skywalker had pulled with the Invincible's hyperdrive, the troops had started regarding the Padawan and his associates with the kind of awed respect they'd reserved for people like Imperius and the Wrath before our journey through time. Besides, I'd assigned Vaylin to accompany them, as much to get her out of my hair as because I thought hanging around with people who weren't Academy-trained Sith acolytes or Imperial Army soldiers would be good for her mental health.

My holocomm beeped with an incoming transmission, and after looking at the caller ID and checking with JURG-N that the anti-listening measures were still in place, I accepted the call. Lio Trevellyan's projected image appeared immediately, the transmission more than a bit patchy due to the poor quality of the Holonet relays in the region, but still understandable.

"Sovereign Cain," he said with a deep bow.

"Prime Minister," I greeted him. "What news from Perlia ? I trust the reception of our new friends from Coruscant went well ?"

Force, let it be so. I really didn't need a diplomatic crisis on top of everything else.

"Indeed it did, my lord," replied Trevellyan. "We welcomed them with all the honor they deserve, but we still need you to be here for the actual diplomatic work."

"I should be back soon," I told him. "Things are settling down here : I am planning to take the Invincible back home in a couple of days. Do you have anything else to report ?"

"Yes, my lord," he replied, and I silently cursed. In my experience, unexpected news were always trouble. "We have received another pair of visitors. Force-users, here to speak with you on a matter related to the Hutt Cartels' war efforts against us. They are accompanied by a rather large number of varied sentients who share their goal – and, perhaps more importantly, the elder of the pair introduced himself as Jedi Knight Ky Narec."

I blinked, surprised. "Really ? I expected it to take more time before the first Jedi started showing up to join our crusade against slavery."

Much as I would have liked to say I hadn't expected any Jedi to join, that would have been a bold-faced lie. I knew from the bad old days how much the Jedi liked to meddle in everything : during the Great Galactic Wars, you couldn't Force-throw a rancor without it hitting a Knight who had somehow managed to discover the location of the secret base whose commander insisted was completely impossible to detect.

(Alright, that exact scenario had only happened to me once, but my point still stood.)

"From what I understand, the Jedi in question might be believed dead by the rest of the Order, and his student isn't exactly a typical Padawan either," Trevellyan explained. "I'm not versed in such spiritual matters, of course, and they didn't share much of their past, but it didn't take a lot of insight to see that she harbours a lot of anger."

Oh, brilliant. I could already sense the glares the Jedi Council would send my way once they got it in their heads that I was poaching their members to join my side. I was already in enough trouble with everyone I'd brought with me from Perlia believing I was running some kind of long scheme to turn Skywalker to the Dark Side without giving them more 'proof' of my corruptive intentions.

"Has Knight Vail been informed of their presence ?" I asked.

"No, my lord. They asked that their presence be kept from the Republic representatives if at all possible."

"See if you can convince them that they can trust Knight Vail to hear them out," I ordered. Amberley wouldn't be happy with me for throwing this into her lap, but she would understand.

"As you command, my lord."

After a few more pleasantries, the transmission ended, and I leaned back into my chair, sighing.

"Is everything alright, sir ?" asked JURG-N.

"As much as I could expect, I suppose," I replied, before looking down at the pile of datapads on my desk.

Once more into the breach, then, I told myself, picking up the one on top of the pile. Somehow, I was sure this part of the job wasn't one the talking heads on the Holonews mentioned when they were talking about the Lord of Terror Darth Cain.

Notes:

AN : And we are back, with another chapter that ended up surpassing my length expectations by a large margin.

The last chapter had a lost of positive reactions, and a lot of cursing a certain individual, which tells me I did my job right.

About the Mother Talzin POV, there is one thing I have realized as I wrote this chapter. And there is no nice way to say it : Mother Tarzin is ... not a very good schemer. I mean, she talks a big game, and she's got the whole "mysterious witch" thing down pat, but when you look at the outcome of every single one of her schemes, it all leads to Grievous being sent by Dooku and destroying her entire people with insulting ease.

I went with Talzin as Maul's mother instead of Kycina, because Sidious stealing someone's son to use as a weapon seems much more in character for him - plus, it gives me another reason why Talzin would be so firmly opposed to Cain. Once again, remember that this story is a patchwork of lore elements from Legends and Canon, depending on what seems most interesting to me.

Also, naming each chapter instead of just going with "Chapter X" is something I'm already starting to regret.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts and suggestions.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 14: Secession

Jonas Worden, reporter for the Holonet News channel Coruscant Today, wasn't nervous as he stood among the hundreds of Perlians who had packed into the spaceport to welcome their returning Sovereign, his camera droid hovering in the air around him. No, that word didn't do justice to the sheer amount of mingled excitement and dread he was feeling as the transport from the Invincible touched down.

When word had reached Coruscant Today that a diplomatic party of Senators to Perlia had been approved by the Supreme Chancellor and the Jedi Temple (who were the ones taking the lead on the whole Darth Cain affair, for obvious reasons), there had been a ferocious fight among the reporters to determine who would go. Only a handful of media outlets had been granted authorization to send someone along with the diplomats, and Coruscant Today had been among the lucky ones. Whoever was sent aboard the Alderaanian Dawn would get the opportunity to walk among the Perlian people, to speak face-to-face with the followers of Cain.

Jonas still wasn't sure whether he'd won or lost that particular contest, to be honest. But he was here now, at ground zero of the most interesting thing to happen in the galaxy in centuries, and he was damned if he wasn't going to make the most of it. There had been pictures of Perlia on the Holonet since Darth Cain's return, obviously, but they had been taken by the locals, no galactic news media daring to send a reporter into the very heart of the Lord of Terror's power until now.

Already, he had made good use of his time on Perlia. Just during the descent of the Alderaanian Dawn, he'd been able to take plenty of pictures of the spaceport, showing the numerous ships already docked at the installation – most of which had been acquired by the Sith Lord in battle against the pirates who'd attacked Perlia, or at the Battle of Savareen. Based on the returns he'd got from his editor, the pictures had gone around on Coruscant, causing a lot of speculation regarding why Darth Cain was gathering such a naval force when he already had the Invincible.

To Jonas, it seemed pretty obvious : the Invincible could only be in one place at a time, so if Darth Cain wanted to expand his operations in the Outer Rim, he needed more ships. But he wasn't a military expert, so what did he know ? Then again, neither were most of the talking heads on the Holonet news shows.

In any case, his employer was very happy with what he'd already sent back (along with the fact he hadn't gotten murdered, like what some of the more sensationalist channels had claimed would happen to anyone visiting Perlia), but today was the big day.

Ex-Senator Donali stood there, along with Regent Lio Trevellyan and the (in)famous Count Dooku, who, previous to Darth Cain's return, had been speculated to be the most likely head of state should the Separatist Movement form its own stellar nation. The Senators aboard whose transport Jonas had come to Perlia were also present, though they stood further away.

The boarding ramp came down, and the crowd audibly held their breath. Then, a figure walked down the ramp – not Darth Cain, but his apprentice, Lady Vaylin, the Hutt Slayer and Liberator of Tatooine.

Looking at her now, it was difficult to believe she was the same woman as the terrifying warrior-queen who had strode into the palace of one of the Outer Rim's most powerful crime lords and executed him before broadcasting the footage to the entire galaxy. She looked like a confident young woman, yes, but the smile on her face reminded Jonas of the ones he saw on his daughter when she came home after getting a good grade from school.

And, then, Darth Cain himself emerged from the transport, and Jonas couldn't look at anyone else. The Lord of Terror looked every bit the figure of legend he was, towering over the other Humans in attendance, his black cloak snapping at his heels as he strode down the transport's ramp. His lightsaber hung at his belt, a visible reminder of its wielder's nature all the same – yet Jonas knew that, for all the danger such a weapon was in the hands of a skilled wielder (which Darth Cain unquestionably was), it was far from the most dangerous aspect of the Lord of Terror.

Jonas had read the reports of the Scourging of Savareen, after all (and he was hoping to get to interview some of the returned soldiers soon, to get a more direct perspective on what had happened … as soon as he could muster the courage to ask).

Darth Cain paused at the bottom of the disembarking ramp. His gaze swept over the assembled crowd, and for the briefest instant where it touched him, Jonas felt a freezing hand squeeze his heart, nearly causing him to fall to his knees right there. Thankfully, it only lasted an instant, the unnatural sensation vanishing as soon as the Sith Lord's gaze moved past him.

"Welcome back to Perlia, my lord" declared the Prime Minister, kneeling before the Sith Lord.

"It is good to be back home, Trevellyan," replied the Lord of Terror, his voice effortlessly carrying over the crowd. "I trust everything has been well on Perlia in my absence ?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good, good." Darth Cain turned his gaze toward the group of Senators and their aides. "And these are our visitors from Coruscant, I take it ?"

'Indeed, my lord," replied Trevellyan. "May I introduce Senators Padmé Amidala and Bail Organa."

The Senators greeted the Lord of Terror. If they felt any fear at being so close to the galaxy's most powerful warlord, they showed no sign – but then, both Amidala and Organa were known far and wide for their diplomatic skills, and the former had reacted to the Trade Federation invading her planet by flying straight through the blockade and threatening the Viceroy into surrendering at gunpoint.

And of course, Jedi Knight Amberley Vail was well familiar with the Sith Lord, having battled the Empire for years before being dragged through time alongside the Invincible. She and Cain stared at each other for several seconds once the introductions were over, and for a moment Jonas worried they were going to draw their lightsabers and resume whatever ancient rivalry bound them together, such was the intensity of their gaze. Given the dark look Vaylin was giving the Jedi Knight, it was clear that Jonas wasn't the only one thinking of the possibility.

Fortunately, the two Force users broke eye contact before things could escalate.

"I hope that Perlia's hospitality has been satisfactory," said Darth Cain. "I am sure that there is much for us to discuss, but that shall have to wait. Me and my apprentice have just come back from a long journey, and there is a lot for us to do before we can attend to diplomacy's niceties."

None of the Senators objected, despite having just been told that they would need to wait a bit longer still before finally being able to do what they'd come to the Outer Rim for. With a final glance and nod at the gathered crowd, Darth Cain followed his Prime Minister inside the luxury speeder waiting for him, accompanied by his apprentice and the droid which followed him everywhere – and which, according to the soldiers Jonas had interviewed, was apparently a killing machine in its own right. The moment the vehicle's door closed, hiding the Sith Lord from sight, Jonas felt himself breathing a little more easily.

Once the speeder left, the crowd began to disperse, still under the watchful eye of the Sith troopers guarding the spaceport Jonas remained where he was standing, watching the vehicle disappear over the horizon while his heartbeat returned to a healthier speed.

Oh, yes. By the time he left Perlia, Jonas was certain he would have made his career, one way or another.

---

When Ky had told her they needed to leave Rattatak, Asajj had objected. Strongly. With a lot of pointed words, which may or may not have been shouted. They had been fighting their campaign against the warlords for months : the very idea of running away offended her on a deeply personal level. But, ultimately, she had seen where her Master was coming from. With the Hutt Cartels supporting their enemies, all they could achieve by staying and fighting was die. And while Asajj wasn't afraid of death, she was afraid of failure, and failing would bring a lot of other people down along with the two of them. People who trusted them, who believed in their cause of bringing an end to the constant fighting that had ravaged Rattatak for as long as anybody remembered.

So they had sent messages to their remaining allies telling them to go to ground, and started looking for a way off-world. It was a testament to the trust they'd built over the years that none of them accused the pair of planning to run away and abandon them, never to come back – though Asajj was sure at least some of them thought that to be the case.

Finding a ship had been their first challenge : very few people came to Rattatak, and for good reason. The war-world was an isolated backwater even by the standards of the Outer Rim, and had little to offer between unpalatable nutrient paste and bloodied warriors. Only a few merchants were desperate enough to make the trip there to trade supplies from off-world with the most influential warlords, and Ky and her no longer qualified as such.

In the end, they had decided to seize a ship by force. If the Cartels were willing to provide armaments to their enemies, then it was only fair that they would also sponsor their little expedition. As they had done many times before, the pair had infiltrated one of the military strongholds belonging to a warlord they knew to be in (thankfully metaphorical) bed with the Hutts. When the latest shipment of weapons had arrived, they had sneaked onboard and hidden until the ship had left the atmosphere, at which point they'd promptly seized control of the vessel.

Neither of them had known how to pilot that particular type of ship, however, and it had been such a pile of junk that they hadn't wanted to risk experimenting. So they had been forced to rely on the ship's auto-pilot to take them to its already programmed destination, which had turned out to be another Hutt-controlled planet. They'd needed to fight their way out after landing, go to ground, and seize another ship – this time one Ky could actually pilot.

Except, on their way to the hangar where their target was parked, they had crossed paths with a bunch of people in chains being dragged toward a cargo transport, which would take them to some Force-forsaken spice mine where they would work until they died and their bodies were dumped into the void.

Obviously, Asajj couldn't let that happen, so they had killed a bunch more slavers and freed the slaves. At which point they had needed a bigger ship than the one they'd planned to take, so they had stolen the cargo hauler instead – except it wasn't carrying enough fuel to take them to their destination, so they had needed to stop at the spice mine to refuel, and of course while they were there they might as well free the miners too …

Long story short, their trip to Perlia had ended up taking a lot more time than initially planned, and they had arrived with a couple hundred sentients packed in the cargo hauler, many of them needing medical attention. Fortunately, when they had finally arrived on Perlia (only to find that Darth Cain wasn't even there), the locals had been more than willing to help. Ky and her hadn't even needed to flash their lightsabers to be taken seriously : when they had come out of hyperspace, her Master had just called ahead and said that they were a pair of freedom fighters with a bunch of liberated slaves in tow, looking for a place to live.

Of course, because the Sith weren't morons and knew that there were no depths to which the Hutt Cartels wouldn't sink, there had still been a welcoming committee waiting for them planetside, with a pair of Sith Acolytes accompanying the troopers and Imperial Intelligence officers here to debrief them. Then they had shown their lightsabers, leading to a few very tense moments that Ky had thankfully managed to defuse.

They were lucky that the last Jedi to have come to Perlia had done so in peace. That, and the testimony of the former slaves they'd brought along, had bought them enough goodwill to be granted hospitality until the Lord of Terror had returned – which he now had, leading to their long-awaited audience with the Sovereign of Perlia.

The audience was taking place inside the Sith Temple. As they were escorted through its labyrinthine corridors, Asajj swore she could feel the place … looking at her. The best way to explain the sensation she could think of was that time Ky and her had gone to talk to one of Rattatak's warlord, and the man's pet, an absolutely gigantic furry beast, had looked at them with a mix of curiosity and hunger throughout the entire negotiations.

Basically, this place spooked her, and it wasn't helping her already fraught nerves. Before the Invincible had appeared over Perlia and thrown the galaxy into chaos, all she'd known of the Sith were the stories Ky had told her as cautionary tales against the dangers of giving in to emotion.

Eventually, they reached the audience chamber. The room was guarded by two scores of Sith soldiers, but Asajj barely spared them a glance before her attention was captured by the other end of the room.

Darth Cain was sitting on an elevated throne, surrounded by black stone carved with symbols that seemed to move in the corner of Asajj's vision. His apprentice stood at his left and down a few steps, on the same level as the combat droid who stood at his right. At the foot of the steps were a gaggle of people whom Asajj assumed were very important everywhere else.

"Ky Narec," said the Lord of Terror. "And Asajj Ventress. I bid you welcome to Perlia."

"Thank you, Lord Cain," replied Ky, bowing just enough to show respect without appearing subservient. If Darth Cain was displeased by it, he didn't show it, so Asajj followed her Master's lead.

"Now," said Cain, leaning back in his throne, somehow managing to look relaxed without sacrificing any dignity by seeming to slouch. "I understand that you have a … petition, you wished to bring to me ?"

Ky began to explain the situation and history of Rattatak. Over the course of the next few minutes, he gave a brief summary of the war-world's history, his own arrival there and the results of his efforts to bring an end to the constant conflicts (mentioning Asajj's part in it, which she did her best not to preen with pride at), and then, finally, the arrival of emissaries from the Hutts seeking to recruit an army from the planet to fight Darth Cain's Sith Army.

There was a moment of silence as the Sith Lord contemplated Ky's words. Then, he said :

"That is quite the tale, Knight Narec. It reminds me of … well. No matter. You wouldn't recognize the name, I don't think. But you are aware that your Order would not approve of you being here, aren't you ?"

"My Order …" Ky paused, visibly pained. "No. It is no longer mine. With the choices I have made, I can no longer call myself a Jedi in good conscience."

"Really ?" The Lord of Terror raised an eyebrow. "You come to Perlia with a ship full of liberated slaves, having spent years fighting a hopeless battle against a vastly superior foe, trying to bring peace to a world consumed by war. Trust me, to me, you are the very image of a Jedi. Well, apart from asking a Sith for help, I suppose."

"The Jedi Order is no longer the same as it was in your time, lord. I had no authority to intervene in the affairs of Rattatak."

"Oh, I am aware that the Order is no longer the one I fought against for so long," Darth Cain waved dismissively. "Back then, you would have been greeted back as a hero, and someone of your Padawan's strength would have been welcomed on Tython with open arms. These age limits the Order practices now baffle me, to be honest, but I suppose it is the privilege of the dominant galactic power to be as picky about recruits as you want."

The more Cain spoke, the more Asajj felt she would have really enjoyed the Jedi Order during the time of the Old Republic.

"Soon, Perlia will declare its independence from the Republic," the Sith Lord went on. "Once that happens, our war against the Cartels will continue. Based on what you have told me, Rattatak could make for a suitable next target of our efforts. Malden," he called out, and a blue-skinned Near-Human whose species Asajj didn't recognize stepped forward. "Debrief Knight Narec and Padawan Ventress, then start collecting information on the planet. We will discuss possible plans of action once the secession has been declared."

"Yes, my lord," the man who Asajj assumed was Cain's spymaster saluted.

"I expect we will speak again soon," the Sith Lord continued, a knowing smile appearing on his face. "The two of you will have to choose what path you wish to walk, and whether you dare to join ours."

And with that, their audience was over, and they followed Malden (who introduced himself as a member of the Chiss species, which meant nothing to both Ky and her) toward an office where he grilled them on everything they knew about Rattatak for what felt like hours. By the time he was satisfied and led them outside the Sith Temple, Asajj's head was pounding, and not just because of the building's ominous aura.

"Well," said Ky as they stood outside the temple's main gate. "That went better than expected."

Asajj had to stop herself from Force-pushing him down the steps and all the way to the road below.

---

The home of the Skywalker-Lars family on Perlia was modest, but comfortable. In this, it was typical of the prefabricated buildings which made up most of the growing settlement near the Sith Temple, where thousands of former slaves had taken refuge.

Combined with the more temperate climate, it was a massive improvement on the conditions in which Anakin had grown up. But, at the moment, the young Padawan was preoccupied by other things than his mother's living conditions : namely, the two new family members to whom she had introduced him when he'd come to eat dinner.

Obi-Wan had told Anakin to join his mom for the night while he and Master Plo Koon talked with Senator Donali about what had happened on Perlia during their absence. This was also the occasion to meet his new family members for the first time, as the rest of the Skywalker-Lars family had come from Tatooine aboard one of the regular Sith transports making the trip between the two planets.

His mom had cooked dinner for them all, combining recipes from their homeworld with local ones that used far more water than any Tatooinian dish not cooked for the Hutts would ever have used. In Anakin's opinion, the latter was much, much better, given that Perlia was a temperate world with more than enough arable land to feed its own population. But all of it was his mom's cooking, so he ate everything put on his plate with great appetite.

Anakin still felt awkward around the older man and his son. For as long as he remembered, he and his mom had been on their own on Tatooine : he'd had friends, yes, but family was a different matter entirely. For his entire time on Tatooine, his mother had been his only family member. After that, every other member of the Jedi Order was supposed to be his family, but the Order's attitude toward bonds and attachments meant that he'd struggled to really connect with anyone other than Obi-Wan – and even that had been a struggle until recently.

Now he had a father and a brother, and he didn't know how to deal with it. Cliegg and Owen were very nice.

Alright, part of that might be the fact Owen looked very impressed that his step-brother was a Jedi-in-training.

"You really fixed the Invincible's hyperdrive ?" He asked excitedly. Anakin nodded, and he went on : "How ? From what we heard, everyone thought it would take months, or years !"

"I am curious as well," said Cliegg. "Shmi said you were a good mechanic, but I didn't think anybody was that good."

Anakin opened his mouth to explain, then paused. He had already told what he had done to plenty of people : Obi-Wan, Master Plo Koon, Commodore Kasteen, the Jedi Council, and then Darth Cain himself. But he was suddenly realizing that all of them had at least a basic understanding of the Force and plenty of experience with it – even Commodore Kasteen, who wasn't Force-sensitive herself, had worked with Darth Cain for years.

"Hum," he started, thinking hard. "It was … basically, the Force doesn't want Cain to die, so it helped me fix the ship ?"

Everyone looked at him with dubious expressions, except for his mom, who had a smile of warm amusement as she said :

"Ani, dear. Can you elaborate on that ?"

He blushed, then did his best to put the experience of the ineffable into words. He wasn't sure whether he succeeded, but Owen and Cliegg seemed interested enough in what he told them.

After a few moments, the conversation switched to Anakin's experience on Savareen. Once he let slip that he had gone around the planet accompanied by Vaylin, everyone asked him what she was like – which didn't surprise Anakin. Darth Cain's Apprentice was Jabba's slayer and Tatooine's liberator, after all : even those who hadn't been slaves when the Sith had come to the planet had been freed from the oppression of the Hutts. Anakin was willing to bet there were very few people on Tatooine who hadn't dreamt about putting a blaster bolt through the slug's head.

Going around Savareen with Vaylin in tow had been a weird experience. It was obvious to Anakin that she wasn't used to being around people. Which made sense, given what he'd been told of her past : growing up in the clutches of one of the most powerful and evil Sith Lords to have ever existed couldn't have been easy, and that was the ex-slave talking.

Anakin had tried to make small talk with her, much to Obi-Wan's horror. Apparently, his Master was convinced Anakin couldn't be diplomatic – which was ridiculous. Every Sith acolyte and trooper they had met had been very polite and respectful to him, so clearly he could be diplomatic. For some reason, though, when he complained about that to his mom, she smiled, and he got the feeling she was restraining herself from laughing.

Once dinner and the conversation was over, Anakin called Obi-Wan's comlink. The older Jedi was still busy, and told Anakin to spend the night with his family and join him at the Sith Temple next morning.

As he laid down on the bed his mom had prepared for him, Anakin's mind wandered. A lot had happened since he'd left Coruscant, and there was a part of him that still couldn't quite accept that he wasn't dreaming. Jabba's death, Tatooine's liberation, the return of the Sith, being reunited with his mom, helping repair the Invincible's hyperdrive … from time to time, he worried that he was going to wake up back in the Jedi Temple, and none of that would have happened.

But only sometimes. He'd had similar dreams after leaving Tatooine, where he had dreamt that he was still working in Watto's shop, had never met Master Qui-Gon – never met Padmé.

That was another thing on his mind. Padmé was here, on Perlia. He had only caught a glimpse of her since returning to the planet, but that had been enough to realize that, somehow, she had become even more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her.

She was a Senator now, instead of a Queen. Anakin understood the difference between the two roles now, unlike back when they had first met – political lessons weren't what he'd expected when he'd become a Padawan, but Obi-Wan insisted he needed to understand the social structure of the planets they visited on missions, and that included learning how the Republic itself worked. He wasn't surprised the Naboos had elected her to replace Palpatine once the older man had ascended to the position of Supreme Chancellor.

Anakin fell asleep thinking of her, and hoping that he would have the opportunity to talk to her before they accompanied Cain on his next adventure. Not for a moment did he doubt the Sith Lord would continue his crusade against the Hutts, nor that Obi-Wan and him would accompany him.

---

Though she'd never been to Nal Hutta before, the Hutt homeworld was exactly as Talzin had envisioned it. A cesspit of greed, misery, treachery and decadence, where the plundered wealth of thousands of star systems ended up decorating the palaces of the world's masters, each and every single one of them had been built by slave labour.

She let none of her feelings show on her face as she calmly walked down the ramp of the ship which had carried her and her escort from Dathomir. Now more than ever, she needed to maintain her façade : she and the score of the Nightsisters she'd brought with her from Dathomir were surrounded by armed sentients, all of whom ultimately worked for the Cartels in one way or another.

The thugs escorted them out of the spaceport and toward a waiting transport which carried them across the city's streets and to Marlo's palace, a gaudy and decadent thing which stood out in the mire of poverty and filth surrounding it like a diamond tooth in the mouth of a beggar. In most civilizations Talzin knew of, the wealthy tended to want to keep the poor away from their residences, but on Nal Hutta, it seemed the Hutts delighted in looking out the window and seeing the contrast between their living conditions and those of the vast majority of the population.

The same suffocating aura that covered the entire planet was concentrated around the palace. Carefully, Talzin opened her mind to it, and felt the greed, the despair, the fear that permeated the place; and, above it all, the raw, naked hunger for wealth, for power, for more, always more. Nal Hutta was a worm that would devour its own flesh the moment it failed to find easier prey elsewhere : it was only thanks to the Hutts' longevity forcing them to take the long view that some semblance of order was maintained.

Repugnant, and yet still preferable to the reign of the Sith. Talzin steeled herself, knowing what laid ahead was certain to challenge her, but also that it was necessary.

Marlo the Hutt was waiting for the Nightsister delegation in his throneroom. A crowd of his minions was also present in the room, leering at the Dathomirian females with unrestrained hunger. Talzin ignored her, projecting an aura of disdain that also strengthened the resolve of her Sisters as they walked through the chamber, stopping a few meters from the corpulent alien.

Marlo was just as Talzin had expected him. Disgustingly corpulent, with a sharp gaze that belied the rest of his indolent appearance. He rested atop a golden throne encrusted with hundreds of jewels which gleamed in the dim illumination provided by braziers which gave off sweet-smelling smoke, in a display of wealth that was as gaudy and tasteless as it was blatant.

"Greetings, mighty Marlo," said Talzin. She didn't bow : to do so would have been an unacceptable admission of weakness. "Your envoy claimed that you required the services of the Witches of Dathomir, and so we have come, to see what alliance might be forged between us against the common threat of Darth Cain."

As the name of the Sith Lord was spoken, Talzin noticed the reaction of the trio of Twi'lek slave girls, attached to the base of Marlo's throne by golden chains. It was subtle enough that no one else did, which was likely the results of them learning to conceal their real emotions early in their enslavement, but Talzin saw it nonetheless. A brief widening of the eyes, a tensing of their lithe limbs, a brief glance at each other.

Hope. They had heard about Darth Cain's apprentice declaring war against the Hutts, they had heard that their master's last attempt to gather an army to crush him had failed, and that was enough to make them hope that one day, they too would be free.

Foolish, ignorant girls. They didn't know the true nature of the Sith, and had bought into the lie Cain had woven to deceive the rest of the galaxy as to his intentions. However bad their current lives may be (and Talzin had no doubt that they were bad indeed), existence under the reign of the Sith would be far, far worse.

"Yes," replied the crime lord, speaking in Huttese – as his kind almost always did when speaking with outsiders, as yet another way to display their superiority by forcing others to learn their language. "The Lord of Terror has proven … bad for business. I want him gone."

"As do I," Talzin assured him. "You were right to send your emissary to our world. I believe we can be of assistance to you."

"Can you do it, then ?" asked Marlo. "Can you kill Cain ?"

"Any man can be killed," she replied. "It is only a matter of the effort it takes."

Marlo frowned, clearly not convinced by her words.

"And how much effort do you believe it will take to kill that man in particular ?"

She smiled. "Well, that is the question, is it not ?"

Again, Marlo appeared less than impressed with her glibness. Time to start being a bit clearer, before he got really angry.

"Killing the Lord of Terror will be difficult," she said honestly. She might be confident in her deception skills, but she didn't fancy her chances of tricking a centuries-old Hutt crime lord. "My Sisterhood has fought Jedi and Darksiders before, but a Sith Lord is another matter entirely. Which I suspect you already knew when you sent young Hanar to Dathomir."

"I know that," Marlo snapped. "If you were more dangerous than Cain, I would have been a fool to call for your help."

Talzin inclined her head slightly, conceding the point.

"Still," she said, "the Sith Lord is mighty, but our Sisterhood is many. Our sorcery might be able to protect your troops from Cain's manipulations, and there are … other means at our disposal, which can be used to strike at the Lord of Terror directly with your assistance."

Now, Marlo was interested – or at least, no longer concealing his interest.

"And what do you want in exchange ?"

Talzin smiled. Truthfully, she would have worked with Marlo for free : he was her best chance of neutralizing Cain before his conquering gaze turned to Dathomir. But the Hutt crime lord didn't know that. To him, her claims that Darth Cain was a common enemy were just diplomatic claptrap.

"I'm sure we can come to an agreement," she said, still smiling.

For the first time since she had arrived, Marlo smiled as well – a ghastly sight that made several of Talzin's escort shiver, though they all concealed it reasonably well. Then they began to negotiate.

---

Sitting in the speeder as it carried me to the Prime Minister's Palace, whose repairs following Varan's raid had recently been completed, I found myself musing on how things had so quickly escalated out of my control, and wishing I was less familiar with the feeling than I actually was.

I had only just come back to the closest thing to a home I'd ever known, and already, preparations were being made aboard the Invincible for our next operation on Rattatak, where we would cast down the Hutt-supported warlords and help Knight Narec's coalition achieve dominance. If given the choice, I'd much rather have stayed on Perlia, of course. But that was the kind of short-term thinking which had led so many of peers to their doom. Despite how the rest of the galaxy (including many of my own subordinates) saw it, our position was far from secure.

We'd been lucky on Savareen. The horde of mercenaries the Hutts had gathered had been precisely that : a horde, not an army. Between the superior experience and equipment of my troops, the Force storm blocking communication and visibility, and the sheer lethality of my Sith acolytes and Mandalorian warriors, the so-called Scouring had barely deserved the name of a battle, despite how close to death I'd come when fighting Durge. Mercenary warbands might serve as convenient shock troops in a pinch, but in my experience, only a fool used them as an army. They simply lacked the discipline of proper soldiers.

But from what Narec had told me, Rattatak's population was a different story entirely. From it, the Cartels could rise a true army given enough time, one that could actually give pause to the Sith troopers and Mandalorians under my theoretical command. Far better to strike now, while the Hutts were still forging their alliance, and prevent that from coming to pass. Knight Narec's arrival had even dropped the perfect casus belli in my lap, since he and his Padawan were already established local figures.

We weren't going to invade a planet, brutally murder most of its ruling class, and set ourselves up as its overlords instead, no no no. We were going to assist an ongoing local effort to put an end to a conflict that had already inflicted untold damage upon the world at the invitation of an existing power. And if I told myself that enough time, I might be able to say it out loud with a straight face.

I was well aware that nobody with two brain cells to rub together would actually buy that line of reasoning : our propagandists were good, but not that good, else they could have convinced the Galactic Senate to hand us the Core Worlds before the first shots of the Great Galactic War had been fired. But so long as it gave the people on Coruscant who were nervous about going to war without a proper Navy or Army of their own an excuse, and more importantly we could convince the Jedi Order that this was for the best, it should be fine.

"Sir, it's time," said my aide, dragging me out of my reverie.

"Thank you, JURG-N," I replied, automatically checking my clothes for any creases or stains and finding none.

Mindful of the dozens of holocams recording my every move and broadcasting me across the entire galaxy, I emerged from the speeder which had carried me from the Temple. The ceremony was going to take place outside the Palace itself, and I climbed the steps leading to the podium on which the Declaration of Secession waited for my signature with all the dignity I could project.

I made a show of reading the document. Obviously, this wasn't the first time I was presented with the final text : I had even forced myself to actually read it in its entirety out of paranoia, rather than rely on the legal experts in my service to provide me with a summary.

The rest of the galaxy might be surprised to learn that Sith Lords employed lawyers, and it was true that most hadn't back in the time of the Sith Empire : while laws and regulations bound the common Imperial citizen, when it came to Sith Lords, power was what mattered, regardless of its form. But I had found that having people who understood the local laws of the worlds I'd travelled to and could explain them to me ultimately helped me avoid a great deal of unpleasantness, even if they had taken as much time as everyone else to learn to tell me the unvarnished truth rather than what they thought I wanted to hear.

I still had no idea why it was that I needed to sign a physical copy of the document in order for Perlia's secession to be enacted. Even back in my time, nobody used physical copies for anything important, apart from a few inoffensive weirdos who preferred their texts to be written down on pulped tree matter and the much more dangerous ones who used stone or parchment to carve down unholy sigils as part of Dark Side rituals.

But protocol was protocol, and if it made the plebs and the troops happy to see me play along with all this pageantry, then suffering through it was a small price to pay.

So, with the most solemn expression I could fake, I picked up the elaborate pen that had been created specifically for this occasion from the velvet cushion on which it rested in JURG-N's outstretched arms, and put my signature at the bottom of the document, before picking up the new seal that had been crafted after my return – the original one had long since been lost – and pressed it down on the melted wax dripping from a candle held up by Trevellyan.

And just like that, Perlia was no longer part of the Republic. Well, not really : there was still a lot of paperwork and bureaucracy to go through before the entire process was complete. For most systems seeking secession, it would have been months, if not years, before their independence became a reality. But then, most systems didn't have a Sith army and the Invincible to enforce their independence. Despite my efforts to ignore the obvious, I knew that, for all practical purposes, Perlia's secession had already happened when Perlia had formally acknowledged me as its returned Sovereign.

Under the polite applause of the crowd, Trevellyan picked up the signed Declaration with as much care as if it were a holy relic, and placed it inside the protective case which I had been told would ultimately end up in one of the capital's museums, since its contents were now an integral part of Perlia's history. As blatant flattery attempts went, that one was on the subtler side, and I let it pass without comment.

Now, it was time for another part of my job I hated, even if I was very good at it : giving a speech.

---

From her privileged position at the front of the crowd, Padmé Amidala watched Cain, who exuded all the confidence one would expect from a Sith Lord – or so the Senator imagined, since she hadn't exactly met one before. Certainly he moved with the calm assurance of a veteran politician, effortlessly exuding the aura of someone used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

Unlike every other speech by a major political figure that Padmé had ever attended, there was no signal for the crowd to be silent : it just happened, everyone present suddenly going quiet all at once. Darth Cain wanted their attention, and so it was given to him.

"A long time ago, on a world not too distant from this one, a good friend of mine told me that slavery was an aberration," he began. His voice was strong, carrying across the crowd without apparent effort – it was a voice that seemed designed to give speeches. "That the Empire had become dependent on it, and that because of it, we could never win our war against the Republic, no matter how many battles we won."

Darth Cain smiled, and Padmé fancied that there was a hint of wistfulness in the expression.

"It took me longer than I care to admit to understand his meaning, but I did eventually. He was right then, and his words are still true today."

The Lord of Terror paused briefly, his gaze raking the crowd with the intensity of a starship's laser battery.

"Slavery is weakness," he continued. "It requires that the slaver constantly puts his slaves down to avoid being overthrown, dedicating his every waking moment to lowering others instead of elevating himself, to the eventual detriment of all. It encourages laziness and stagnation, because those in power see no reason to aim for anything beyond maintaining the status quo."

Padmé was familiar with that line of reasoning : it was the same Darth Cain had given to the Jedi when they'd asked him his reasons for declaring war on the Hutt Cartels. While the philosophical principles behind it were somewhat strange to her, in the end, the bitter truth was that it hadn't mattered to the slaves of Tatooine and Savareen why their liberators had come to rescue them. What mattered was that, unlike the Republic, the Cainite Sith were willing to act.

"In the days of the Sith Empire, when my entire civilization had been shaped from the ground up by madmen such as Vitiate and Erebus, there was precious little that could be done to change things."

From the corner of her eyes (for her gaze was still fixed on the Sith Lord) Padmé saw the Sith troopers and Acolytes tense at the mention of the Vile One's name, and thought she saw several make discreet hand gestures in that way sentients across the galaxy did to ward off evil. She was reminded that Darth Cain's Master had been hated even by his own people – that the Lord of Terror had earned the admiration of all those who had learned that he'd slain his Master and freed the galaxy from his depredations.

"We Sith all dwelled in the realm they had made," Darth Cain continued, showing no sign of the inner turmoil he must surely feel as well at the mention of his infamous Master, "with all its glories and all its flaws. But those monsters are gone, and the war that consumed the Empire for so much of my life, and was used as justification for so many things, is over. Now, at last, I am free to pursue my old friend's dream."

Who was that old friend, Padmé wondered, who had dared to express such views during the height of the Sith Empire's power ? What was their story ?

Perhaps she would have the opportunity to ask Darth Cain at some point. While they had had a brief conversation yesterday after his landing at the spaceport, their actual discussions were scheduled to take place later this week, once the secession was properly enacted and Perlia's new place in the galactic order had to be clarified.

She also wanted to talk to Obi-Wan and Anakin, of course – both to get their perspective on recent events, but also just to reconnect with them after several years. Palpatine occasionally talked to her about the young Padawan who had helped save their world from the Trade Federation when they met informally on Coruscant, but she hadn't had a chance to see either of them since then.

"With Perlia's secession from the Republic, the last of our restraints, symbolic as they might have been, have been cast off. The war that began on Tatooine at my Apprentice's hands, and that my soldiers and I continued on Savareen, shall not end until every sentient laboring in Hutt chains has been freed."

He said it so easily, as if it were never in doubt – as if he would allow no other outcome.

"And I know we shall not be alone in this. Already many systems have pledged their support for this great crusade of ours, while individuals have sailed the stars to join their strength to ours, bringing us knowledge of the worlds that suffer in the grasp of our adversaries."

Padmé knew of what Cain was speaking. The rumors of the pair and the rescued slaves they had brought with them had spread like wildfire across the planet : not many people were summoned to the Sith Temple itself for an audience, after all. That they'd apparently been carrying lightsabers – and weren't Sith acolytes returning from a secret mission – had only made the gossip spread faster.

"To the liberation networks who operate deep within Hutt territory, risking their lives every day to free just one more soul from bondage, know that you are not alone. You have fought long and hard, and now, at last, help is on the way."

Shame burned inside Padmé at the knowledge that it had taken the return of the Sith for that help to arrive, where the Republic should have acted centuries ago.

"To the warriors of the galaxy, who wander the stars and seek a worthy cause to fight for, join us," Darth Cain proclaimed, a summon that would echo across the stars. He pointed his index finger forward, straight at the cameras broadcasting his image on the Holonet : "To those who labour in chains and collars, denied the most basic of rights : hold on. We are coming."

Then, suddenly, the temperature dropped. Despite the warm sun shining overhead, Padmé shivered as the light seemed to fade. On the podium, Darth Cain's expression became hard as beskar as his outstretched hand closed into a fist :

"And finally, to the Cartels and the slavemasters, who revel in their petty kingdoms : know that I am coming for you. The hollow power you believe your wealth grants you shall not protect you from me and mine. Only by surrendering yourselves for judgement and freeing the slaves in your custody shall you be spared from our wrath."

"I am Darth Cain !" The Sith Lord's voice grew louder with every word now, yet he didn't sound out of breath. "Lord of Terror ! Sovereign of Perlia ! And here, I declare that together, we shall burn out this lingering rot from the Outer Rim, that all sentients may pursue the realization of their full potential, unfettered by the chains of slavery !"

"The Force shall set us free !"

The crowd roared, a mix of cheers and thunderous applause that made the very ground tremble with its intensity. It was Perlia's warcry, the promise of a people that they would follow their liege into war in the name of freedom for all sentients, regardless of the forces arrayed against them – convinced, every single one of them, that they would win regardless, because Darth Cain was on their side.

It was, Padmé knew, the death knell of the Republic's influence in the Outer Rim, and the annunciation of a rival power's rise in its stead, one rooted in a millennia-old darkness and steeped in distrust for the Republic which had failed its people.

And yet, before she realized it, the Naboo Senator found herself joining the applause, along with everybody else. Only the Jedi remained immobile, looking perfectly serene and untroubled – except Anakin, who was smiling wildly and all but vibrating in place as he looked at the Lord of Terror.

Since her arrival on Perlia, Padmé had visited the refugees in the growing town near the Sith Temple, her handmaidens accompanying her. She had met people who had been born into slavery. Others who had been captured in raids, or enslaved after failing to pay the cartels' 'protection'.

Padmé had known about slavery in the Outer Rim for years. She had read through the reports of her operatives as they did everything they could to help without breaking Republican law. But it was one thing to read Sablé's matter-of-fact description of the pits in which dozens of sentients had been herded by jeering thugs, and another to see the whipping scars on the skin of a too-thin Chagrian child, who was clinging to a Wookie along with half a dozen other orphans.

She had seen the images of Vaylin and Cain. There were many of them, from holos to hand-painted pictures and stone statues, crafted with surprising skill. And she had seen the looks sent toward the Sith Temple, full of hope and reverence, even though the ancient building's threatening aura could be felt all the way there.

These people didn't care that their rescuers were Sith, didn't care about the horrors that the Empire had unleashed upon the galaxy in ancient history. And why would they ? Most of them hadn't known what a Sith was before one of them had strode into the palace of their oppressor and executed him before setting them all free.

Truly, she thought faintly as the applause continued unabated, Darth Cain was even more terrifying than she had thought. She had more experience with politics than she would have liked, and that had been masterfully done.

---

"The Force shall set us free !"

Alone in his office, Palpatine watched the live Holonet transmission of Darth Cain's speech, and tried not to seethe. This wasn't his private apartment : he couldn't afford to risk drawing attention by losing control of his rage and trashing the place.

Thanks to his own mastery of the Dark Side and the many years he'd spent playing the part of a politician at the Republic's highest levels of power, Sidious could see through Cain's words, could cut through the veil of deceit intended for the common sheep of the galaxy. This speech was a declaration of war aimed at him, personally – or rather, aimed at the Sith Lord who had sent Varan to Perlia, and whom the Lord of Terror still believed was based in the Outer Rim.

It was an open challenge, and there was nothing he could do about it. Public opinion on Cain was still split in the Republic : even with all the influence he held on the media, shaping galactic thought took time, especially when the public consciousness kept being violently shaken by the Lord of Terror's latest exploit.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. His plans to counter his rival's ascendancy were already in motion, and impulsive action at this stage would only endanger him – which might even be the goal of the speech in the first place : a provocation meant to push him into making a mistake and reveal his position to Darth Cain. He could admire the artistry in the manoeuvre, which would rally support to the Lord of Terror's little crusade against the Hutts while pursuing his true objective of finding and destroying his rival at the same time. But it would be Sidious who'd get the last laugh in the end.

Bane had just contacted him, informing Sidious that he'd finished assembling his crew and was on his way to Perlia. There, he would make contact with Dooku to assist his infiltration and gain access to the vault hidden underneath the ancient Sith Temple, to steal the priceless relics collected by Darth Cain over the years before bringing them back to Palpatine – in exchange for a suitably exorbitant sum of money, of course, but the anonymous accounts Sidious had inherited from Plagueis could more than take the hit.

Sidious was fully aware that the odds of Bane's success were rather low. Darth Cain's vault had remained unopened for thousands of years, and Varan's expedition had been far from the first attempt made by the Banite Sith at cracking it open. Very few of the agents Sidious' predecessors had sent had returned, and those hadn't survived long, their minds irreparably damaged by what they had witnessed in the depths below the Sith Temple.

But it didn't matter. After all, regardless of how Bane's operation went, Sidious was confident he could turn it to his advantage. The best case scenario would be if the bounty hunter succeeded, of course : the treasures within Cain's vault were certain to be very powerful, and the theft in itself would deal a significant blow to the reputation of the rival Sith Lord.

Even if Bane failed, Sidious would benefit. As historians across the galaxy dug into the legend of Darth Cain, stories had emerged of the kind of artefacts the Lord of Terror had encountered during his career and locked away. If they were unleashed by Bane's team, the damage they would cause on Perlia before Cain and his followers could contain them would do much more damage to his image of invincibility. It would be even better if Amidala and the other Senators were caught in the fallout – or, even better, Anakin's mother, who dwelled in the refugee city growing around the Sith Temple itself.

And, if the worst case scenario came to pass and Bane died or was captured without accomplishing anything, the mere fact that such an infamous bounty hunter had made the attempt would keep Darth Cain focused on the Outer Rim, looking for his mysterious rival. Bane knew very little about Sidious : his Sith name, and the fact that he was a Human male, but nothing more – and even the latter could be faked, since all their communications had been done through holo.

Yes, Palpatine reassured himself. This time, he had set things up perfectly so that every possible outcome would benefit him.

Notes:

AN : Sure, Sheev, sure. There is no possible way your scheme to have a bunch of low-lifes rob an ancient Sith vault that has gone unbreached throughout the entire Line of Bane's existence, while the owner is in residence in the temple above, could possibly backfire.

The funny thing about Palpatine is that for all his smarts (and he is smart, else he wouldn't be Supreme Chancellor), his pride and conviction of his own infaillibility is still a big weakness. For a canon example, see the whole "I'm gonna have my Apprentice, who turned to the Dark Side to save the one he loved above all, duel and possibly kill his son. How could this possibly go wrong ?" debacle.

Also, to be fair to him (which, given this is Palpatine we are talking about, is as difficult than you would expect), he hasn't had much experience with Cain's own brand of 'luck' so far.

Anyway, writing this took a bit longer than anticipated. If you're following my other works, you can probably guess why : first I wanted to finish A Young Girl's Weaponization of the Mythos, and then the Muse took me on a wild tangeant.

Also, I have recently become aware that this story is, apparently, the Number One SW/40K crossover on ffnet in terms of Follows and Favorites. Which honestly doesn't seem right, given how old and MASSIVELY popular both those franchises are (alright, the former a lot more than the latter, but still). I can only assume this is due to Cain's awesomeness leaking through the Fourth Wall.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts, theories and suggestions.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 15: Vault

During his long career as one of the Outer Rim's most dangerous bounty hunters, Cad Bane had performed a number of heists for a number of clients – and sometimes on his own initiative, when intel had fallen into his lap about a particularly juicy score. He had robbed banks, private vaults, and the fortresses of warlords, and while he hadn't always gotten away with what he'd come to acquire, he had always made it out alive. Admittedly, not all of his crews could say the same – something he had somehow forgotten to mention to the blokes he'd recruited for this particular mission.

The first hurdle to clear was actually making it to Perlia. Usually, that wouldn't be too difficult, but despite its sudden importance to galactic affairs, the planet still saw very little traffic. Every incoming ship was monitored closely as a result. Given how quickly Imperial Intelligence was rebuilding its networks in the Outer Rim, pretending to be tourists was unlikely to get them far.

The second approach, sneaking in using stealth, might still be viable. But nobody knew what the Invincible's sensors were capable of. Bane had hoped to finish putting his crew together before the superdreadnought's return, but that hadn't happened – and he'd nearly killed the final member of the crew in a fit of rage upon finding out.

That left him with his final option, and the one he'd hoped to avoid using until much later : calling on Sidious' contact on the ground for help. And, to his credit, Dooku had delivered : they linked up with a ship from Serenno and hid among the cargo until the ship had landed, at which point they discreetly made their exit alongside the crew. They had to keep their heads down not to draw attention, especially since Serenno was a mostly Human-populated world, and of their quirky little group of murderers-for-hire, only Aurra Sing could pass as one.

But they were professionals, and they managed it easily enough. Now, they were out of the spaceport and aboard a rented speeder, flying toward the refugee town near the Sith Temple. They were careful to give the place a wide berth : security around it was high, as the Sith Lord was apparently worried about the Cartels sending infiltrators to punish the escaped slaves. Bane would have dismissed the idea as paranoia, except he himself had received several offers by the Hutts for precisely that kind of work. He'd refused them all, of course; not out of any moral objection, but because it was far too dangerous for the pay they'd offered.

They ditched the speeder on the side of the road, covering it with camo so it wouldn't be discovered until they returned to make their extraction, and began to trek through the woods on foot, keeping watch for any patrols. Bane could have sworn that, the closer to the Temple they got, the quieter the jungle became, and the more vicious the vegetation looked. After several hours, the four sentients reached the base of the Sith Temple.

From their current position, the building loomed over them, appearing even larger than it actually was. The temple's immediate surroundings were completely devoid of life in a radius of a dozen meters, as if the jungle knew better than to encroach upon the ancient structure. Bane could well understood why : he wasn't a superstitious being, but he could swear he felt the temple looking at him.

After checking once again that there was no sign of any Sith patrol or surveillance device, the Duros forced himself to cross the open space, the rest of his crew following. He raised a hand-held scanner and swept it around, grunting in satisfaction when it beeped, confirming they were at the correct location.

"There is supposed to be a secret passage here, which was discovered by a previous expedition," he said. "However, according to our intel, it can only be opened by a Force-sensitive. Sing ?"

The Palliduvan walked to the wall and pressed her hand against it, before closing her eyes. In her other hand, she was holding the device Sidious had sent to Bane, a thing of spiked brass engraved with tiny script which was supposed to be the Sith equivalent of a skeleton key. As Sing did whatever it was Force users were supposed to do with it, the device started spinning around in her palm, and emit a sound that made Bane's teeth ache.

He was about to tell Sing to turn it off when a slab of stone swung aside, revealing a passage into absolute blackness. Sing staggered back, shaking her head. It was difficult to tell with the Palliduvan, but she looked even paler than usual.

"Nicely done," said Bane. "You alright to continue ?"

If she wasn't – if she was going to be a burden – then Bane would have to shoot her. They couldn't leave her behind and risk having her be discovered, and the tunnels were going to be dangerous enough without dragging dead weight along. It'd be a shame to lose her this early in the job, but on the other hand, that would be one less person to share Sidious' cash with.

"I'm fine," the Palliduvan replied, and Bane surreptitiously took his hand away from his pistol. "I just … felt the temple for a bit. It's not exactly a happy place."

"Big surprise there," beeped Todo-360, the techno-service droid sitting on his usual perch on Bane's shoulders. The rest of the crew gave weak chuckles to the admittedly poor joke.

"Let's get in," said Bane, and they all pulled out lightsticks before filing into the opening.

Inside, the tunnel was a tight corridor, just large enough for one person to walk through comfortably. There were no side passages or intersections, which had the advantage of making their advance simple – or so it seemed at first. After a couple of hours of walking, Bane's wrist-computer insisted they were going in circle, and looking at the three-dimensional map it had built of their advance so far, the Duros found it hard to argue – except for the fact that they hadn't passed any of the marks they'd left in their wake.

"I had heard legends that space could be warped in places strong in the Dark Side, but I didn't think that was actually true," grumbled Belok after Bane pointed this out to the rest of the group.

Renai Belok was a Twi'lek, and had, once upon a time, been counted among the foremost minds of the Core when it came to archaeology. Unfortunately for him, his spending habits had driven him to traffic in the same kind of artefacts he was studying, and upon being exposed, he'd been forced to flee to the Outer Rim, where he had put his skills and knowledge to use as a grave-robber, as well as historian-for-hire for warlords who wanted to know the history of the trophies and treasures they'd taken from their latest victims.

Bane and Sing had caught him leaving a brothel, after having spent the last of his credits on a week of debauchery and indulgence. It had taken him several seconds to recognize Bane, but once he did, he'd sobered up quickly, and devoted his full attention to the offer.

Though Belok was armed – you didn't survive long on the Rim if you didn't visibly carry a weapon at all times – Bane hadn't recruited him for his skill with a blaster, which was mediocre at best. No, the Twi'lek was here because the bounty hunter wasn't going to enter a Sith Temple without the closest thing to an expert he could get. And even if Belok's knowledge fell short, the ex-archaeologist still knew his way around ancient tombs filled with traps by their builders.

"Do you know a method to circumvent this spatial anomaly and reach our destination faster ?" asked Mili, the last member of their group (not taking into account Todo-360 – but then, Todo didn't get a share of the job's payout).

Mili was a combat droid. If you believed the stories, it was the result of a Trade Federation secret weapon project which had broken free of its restraints and slaughtered the entire research team before disappearing into the Outer Rim. Bane doubted that was the truth, but there was no denying Mili's skills with the blasters built into its wrists.

Both Belok and Mili had refused to join the crew at first once they had been told what the job was. The Twi'lek especially had been vocal in his refusal, ranting about how many others had tried to break into the Lord of Terror's vault, only to never return – and that had been before the Sith Lord had come back with his army and started living in the Sith Temple above the vault again.

But, once Bane had told them how much they were getting paid for the job, they had changed their minds. Self-preservation was a fine thing, but you didn't get the kind of reputation these two had on the Outer Rim without some powerful greed serving as motivation as well.

"Are you crazy ? Of course not," replied Belok. "If such a method even exists, I doubt anybody but Cain himself would know of it. All we can do is keep walking and hope we get to our destination eventually. Well, I guess we could turn back and hope the way out is still the same as the way in, but I at least didn't come this far to give up now."

"No one is going back until we've got what we came for," Bane cut in. "Now keep moving and stay alert."

They walked for another half-hour before the passage reached a vast chamber. Several more tunnels led to the room, some leading to stairs going up and down, others disappearing in snaking tunnels similar to the one they had exited from. All eyes, however, were drawn to the other side of the room, where a stone arch rose, leading into a long, straight corridor.

"Is it just me," asked Belok, "or is it getting colder in here ?"

"I am not registering any decrease in temperature," said Mili.

But the Twi'lek was right, thought Bane, no matter what the droid's sensors claimed. It was getting colder, and the cold was coming from beyond the arch. Because of course it was. Kriffing Sith sorcerous banthashit.

"Todo, Mili, any sign of life ?" he asked. Both droids answered negatively. "Then let's move before that changes."

"There's something written up here," called Belok as they got close the arch. "And that's weird : it looks like … yes, it's written in Galactic Basic, not in Sith. That dialect is thousands of years old, but there hasn't been much deviation in the language since then, though the script is faded from age."

"What does it say ?" Bane asked impatiently. He didn't want them to waste time, but it'd be stupid to disregard any potential clue to what awaited them further in.

"Give me a minute. As I said, it is faded." The Twi'lek brought up his light, pointing the beam at the characters. "It says … 'Turn back. No treasures wait for you beyond this point. No glory, no power, and no wealth. Only misery and torment lie ahead, the remnants of a darkness even the Lord of Terror could neither control nor destroy. Turn back, for your own good and that of this world, before it is too late.'"

"Really ?" the Duros bounty hunter laughed in the silence that followed. "That's it ? I expected more from the dreaded Lord of Terror than a childish fairy tale curse."

The rest of the crew chuckled too, hesitantly at first, but with growing force. Internally, Bane sighed in relief. Now was not the time for them to get cold feet.

"Mili, you're in front," he said to the combat droid. "Everyone, keep your eyes peeled."

Once past the arch, they finally started to find the kind of traps they had been expecting. In one section, razor-sharp blades swung from the ceiling like pendulums, requiring either a great mastery of the Force to stop them in their tracks, or the kind of processing power Mili was packing to determinate the precise timing of steps to cross. Further ahead, the floor was split up in blank tiles, with a single passage allowing to reach the other side without making spikes erupt from the ceiling with enough strength to pierce through armor – at least judging by the decaying remains strewn about the place.

It was while they were navigating that obstacle, the droids among them scanning the tiles to detect which ones were safe, that Sing paused and carefully reached out to one of the dessicated corpses, which looked to be centuries old at least, and pried a thin metallic tube from its grasp.

There was a crack-hiss, and a crimson light added its illumination to their lightsticks'.

"A lightsaber," Belok breathed. "And not a Jedi one, given its color. What's that doing down here ?"

"What do you think ?" snorted Bane. "Obviously it was left here by one of our predecessors."

"But it's red … It must have been left by a Sith from before the end of the New Sith Wars," mused the archaeologist, who was looking at the lightsaber with hungry gaze, only to turn his eyes away when Sing glared at him, turned the lightsaber off, and hung it from her belt.

That was a reasonable assumption, but Bane knew better, even though the galaxy had thought the Sith extinct for a thousand years before Darth Cain's return. Years ago, he'd been hired by a Zabrak to help him hunt down some Jedi Padawan in the Outer Rim, who had used the Force and wielded a red lightsaber. Then, some time later, he'd been contacted by Sidious, who was a Sith Lord in his own right, and hadn't been particularly subtle about hiding it – meaning, Bane knew, that he'd wanted the bounty hunter to know in order to dissuade the Duros from double-crossing him.

"If only we could search these without risking our lives by activating the traps," added the Twi'lek, looking at the decayed remains with a forlorn look. "We could probably make a lot of cash selling their possessions."

"We will make a lot more from the artefacts in the vault," replied Bane. "Don't get distracted by lesser prizes and stay focused on the job."

On and on this went, for nearly two hours. How all these traps were still functioning after so many centuries, Bane could only guess. According to Belok, such things were common in ancient sites : for some reasons, people from the Old Republic era and even before had been obsessed with making sure their tombs, vaults, and other hidden places could withstand the passage of time.

The deeper they went, the less corpses they found, until at last there was no trace that anyone had made it this far apart from the vault's owner. But, at last, they reached their destination : a large corridor, with metallic doors spread at regular intervals on both sides.

At last, thought Bane. They'd reached the actual vault of Darth Cain.

"Wait," said Belok suddenly, and everyone froze. The Twi'lek was pointing backward, eyes wide. "Look."

They turned back, and saw that the traps-filled corridor was gone. Instead, they could see the stone arch leading to the chamber were they had arrived after navigating the space-defying passage, marked with another warning in Basic.

"'This is your final warning'," Belok read aloud. "'One last chance to avoid your doom, granted by the Lord of Terror's mercy. Turn back, and leave. The stars are home to many treasures worth possessing, none of which reside in this prison of darkness'."

Again, there was a tense pause. And, again, it fell to Bane to break it :

"Now that's just being desperate," he chuckled. "Come on, folks. We're so close I can smell the credits already."

Slowly, still looking for traps, they advanced into the corridor. The ceiling was high – ten meters according to Todo's scan. Every angle was perfectly sculpted into the stone, without any trace of erosion. Red light was coming from veins of red crystal that ran on the walls between cells, glowing with pulsating light.

And it was cold, punishingly so. Mili still claimed that the temperature hadn't noticeably changed beyond what was to be expected from how deep beneath the surface of Perlia they were, and none of their breaths were turning into fog, but all of the meat-bags in the group were shivering. Bane tried very hard not to think about what that meant.

There were sigils carved over every cell, still clear despite the passage of millennia. Bane didn't know the language, but there was something about the way the symbols flowed into each other that made his spine crawl.

"Now that," said Belok looking at the sigils, "is ancient Sith."

"Can you translate it ?" asked Sing.

"Of course I can !" replied the disgraced archaeologist, sounding almost outraged at the question. "It's not that complicated a language, no matter what these fearful, hidebound morons at the institute may claim. This one, for instance, says something like 'Essence of the Beast of the Whisperhead Mountains'."

"That sounds delightful," deadpanned Mili.

"Sith Lords are a bunch of melodramatic bastards," grunted Bane. "Sing, can you open it ?"

There was nothing special about this door compared to the rest as far as the bounty hunter could tell, but they had to start somewhere. And, presumably, the most dangerous artefacts would be deeper in the vault, if only because the Lord of Terror had obtained them later in his career.

"I'm going to try," replied the Palladian, pulling out the skeleton key from her pocket and laying a hand on the metal door. Once again, Bane was struck by the complete absence of rust on the panel, and he realized that this wasn't any metal he recognized. Where the kriff had Cain found the stuff ?

It took several minutes before Sing managed it, and by the time the cell's door rose up, she looked even paler than usual. This was clearly taking a toll on her, and while Bane had no issue with the Palladian draining herself dry, it did mean they'd only be able to access a limited number of cells.

Beyond the door, the cell was a small octagonal space, barely three meters wide. The walls were covered in carved sigils that vaguely resembled the ones above the cells, but rough, and without order. This reminded Bane of nothing more than an asylum's room, where the inmate had been given free reign to express their inner madness upon their surroundings.

Apart from the carvings, there were two things of note in the room. The first was a pile of bones bundled against the far wall of the cell, looking older than any of the remains they'd passed on their way to the vault. Their original owner seemed to have been humanoid, but with horns, claws and spikes that Bane couldn't link with any species he'd encountered before. Far more interesting, however, was the pedestal of black metal in the middle of the room, atop which rested a small, pyramid-shaped object of red crystal and golden armatures.

"That's a Sith Holocron," breathed Belok. "These are incredibly valuable, because the Jedi confiscate all the ones they find."

"I know what it is," said Bane. "That's our paycheck."

Among the instructions Sidious had given Bane was that such artefacts took absolute priority. Curious, the bounty hunter had done some digging, and learned why : these devices were repositories of knowledge, created by Force users – both Sith and Jedi – to store their lore for future generations. They were also supposedly haunted by some kind of Force ghost, a copy of their creator who served as interface between the user and the information contained within them.

Bane didn't have any interest in those ancient secrets himself; if they were that valuable, then the Sith wouldn't have lost the war to the Jedi. But Sidious was willing to pay a lot of credits for the object, and it was small enough that carrying it outside wouldn't be a problem.

"Check the room for traps," Bane ordered, and the group fanned out carefully, checking every centimeter of the cell's freezing floor.

No trap. Nothing. In the end, his patience running out, Bane walked to the plinth and gingerly picked up the Holocron, his every sense straining for any sign of danger. Yet still, nothing happened.

He pocketed the priceless artefact. For some reason, it felt a lot heavier once his gloved fingers left it.

"Let's move on to the next cell," he said, feeling more nervous than he cared to admit.

This was going too well. Something had killed all the people whose bones they had trodden on outside this cell. The longer they went without whatever it was showing up, the tenser the bounty hunter became, and so did the rest of his crew.

He was halfway to the next door when he realized Sing hadn't followed and was still inside the first cell. He went back, and found her staring at the bones, her back turned to him.

"Sing ?" he called out, already drawing his blaster. "What's wrong ? Get out of here, we need you to open the next cell."

Slowly, she turned to face him. The lines on her face were shifting, moving like bulging veins across her pallid skin. She smiled, showing far too many pointed teeth.

"Samus," she said, her voice several octaves deeper than Bane ever remembered hearing it. "Samus is here."

Without hesitation, Bane fired, only for his blaster bolt to be deflected by the crimson lightsaber that was suddenly in Sing's hand.

"She's gone crazy !" he shouted as he back-pedalled, still firing as he went, trying to put as much distance between himself and the lightsaber-wielding madwoman as possible.

"Samus is all around you !" she screamed as she ran out of the cell, with such volume that Bane nearly stumbled, feeling as if he'd just been punched in the chest. "Samus is the man besides you ! Look out ! Look out !"

"What the -" began Belok, before his words turned into a gurgle as he was gutted by a single lightsaber strike. He fell to the ground, clutching at his incinerated insides for a few seconds before his brain caught up with the rest of his body and realized he was dead.

Mili opened fire on full auto with all of its weapons. Not every blaster bolt was deflected : several hit the Palladian, burning through cloth and flesh without slowing her down, and Bane watched as one hit her in the eye, throwing her head back and turning the eye into crimson vapor. But she only paused for a second before shaking her head, still laughing madly, and leaping toward the combat droid at an impossible speed.

Mili tried to escape, but was hacked to pieces before it could get out of range of the madwoman's lightsaber. Cursing in every language he knew, Bane threw a squealing Todo-360 deeper into the vault, before pressing a button on his vambrace. Immediately, the techno-service droid started emitting a painfully loud shriek. The noise drew Sing's (or whatever was wearing her skin now) attention, and she stalked toward its source, her empty eye socket glowing with eldritch light.

"Samus !" she howled as she ripped the small droid to pieces. "It means the end and the death ! Samus will gnaw upon your bones !"

While she was distracted, Bane turned and ran without hesitation. It was a shame about Todo-360, but he could always get another droid; it wouldn't be the first time he had done so, and the pay for this job more than covered the cost of buying a replacement and outfitting it with the same array of illegal modifications. As for Sidious, well, he would have to be satisfied with the single Holocron Bane was carrying.

That was, of course, assuming Bane managed to make it out, which he was honest enough with himself to know wasn't all that likely. But if he had let something like the odds discourage him, he would have died years ago.

He made it halfway to the tunnel when his instincts screamed at him, and he threw himself to the side just in time to avoid being cut to ribbons by a flying lightsaber. He turned, thinking to shoot Sing while she was weaponless, only for the plasma blade to fly back into her hand. Cursing, the Duros jumped into the nearest opening in the wall. It wasn't the one the group had arrived through, but right now, he didn't care.

All he cared about was running away as fast as he could, and keep an eye out for any opportunity to escape his former crewmate. It wasn't the first time that had happened, though never before had one of his allies been driven mad by Sith sorcery.

---

In the years since their escape from Korriban, Iskandar Khayon had been asked many times just why it was that he consorted with an alien like Nefertari. Rarely were such questions asked in the Twi'lek's presence, and never more than once. When he deigned to answer with words rather than a sneer or open violence, the Pureblood would explain that his companion was a great fighter, a dedicated follower of the Dark Side, and that they had both sharpened each other's skills.

All of which were true, but there were other benefits, which weren't suitable to discuss in polite company – or, well, civil company, as Iskandar held precious little illusion about the nature of most of his compatriots, even if the Cainite Sith were a step up from the rest of the Empire in that regard, among many others.

On a completely unrelated subject, Nefertari had been feeling particularly frisky today, and had all but dragged him into the Temple's lower sections (though, if he had to be honest, Iskandar would admit he hadn't fought her very hard : his companion could be remarkably persuasive when the mood took her). Nobody went there, apart from the regular armed patrols tasked with ensuring nothing had broken out of the vault and was making its way up the Temple – which, admittedly, was more a way to punish low-performing squads than a necessary duty, given nothing had gone out in over three millennia.

All in all, the evening was off to a promising start when the two of them sensed someone getting closer, fast. To call Nefertari's expression murderous at the interruption would have been a gross understatement, and Iskandar wasn't happy about it himself.

A Duros ran out into view, panting and brandishing a blaster. Before Iskandar could say or do anything, Nefertari leapt at him, her two lightsabers igniting. From the way he immediately reacted to the threat, moving out of the way of the acolyte's first strike, it was clear that the Duros was an experienced killer. But he was exhausted from running through the maze of ever-shifting corridors that stretched beneath the Sith Temple, steeped in the emanations of all the Dark artefacts locked away in the Lord of Terror's vault.

In that condition, that he lasted all of five seconds against Nefertari before she severed both his hands at the wrist was admirable. Still, even if he had been in top form, the outcome would never have been in doubt. Nefertari had survived the Academy on Korriban as a Twi'lek female, and walked away from the battle of Molech : it would take more than an alien gunslinger to defeat her.

Before she could sever her enemy's head with her lightsabers, Iskandar held out his hand and stopped her with a pull of telekinesis, before pressing on the Duros' throat with an invisible grip until he fell unconscious – which, given the agony of having suddenly lost his hands, was probably a mercy.

"Darth Cain will want to interrogate him," he told Nefertari when she glared at him for interrupting her fun.

The black-skinned Twi'lek opened her mouth to berate him, but was interrupted by the sound of something approaching from the same passage the Duros had emerged from.

A white-skinned humanoid wielding a red lightsaber appeared, coming to a dead stop when she saw the two Sith acolytes. She seemed to belong to one of the countless Near-Human species of the galaxy, but it was hard to tell with the changes that had recently been wrought upon her form. A crown of white horns were growing out of her skull, piercing the skin and adding blood to the twisting tattooed lines that covered her face. Her left eye was gone, replaced by a ghost-light that cast no illumination, only shadows.

More importantly, the two Sith acolytes could feel the dark aura radiating from her. A malign, ancient presence, foreign to the body it puppeteered, which had completely crushed the mind of whoever the poor fool had once been.

"Samus is here !" the possessed bellowed.

"Well, that answers the question of which of Darth Cain's trophies is responsible for this mess," Iskandar sighed, igniting his own lightstaff and moving to join the fray.

Nefertari and Iskandar engaged the Samus-host together. It was far from the first time they'd joined forces against a common enemy, and their combat styles melded with each other flawlessly, a unity of purpose that had been considered a weakness by many idiots in the past.

Together, they were strong enough to overwhelm almost every foe, and few of the ones that could resist they would have had the breath to spear talking. But the possessed's biology no longer followed the same rules as it had before, and it kept ranting as their lightsabers clashed.

"Samus is the only name you will hear ! Samus is all around you ! Look out ! Look out ! Samus means the end and the death ! Look out ! Samus is -"

Finally, the revenant fell silent as Iskandar cut it in two from the right shoulder to the left flank with a swipe of his lightstaff. The two pieces slid apart and fell to the floor, but not before Nefertari had severed the creature's head for good measure.

"That," said Nefertari between deep breaths that did interesting things to her chest, "wasn't the kind of workout I had in mind for tonight."

Before Iskandar could respond, the corpse twitched, and he cursed. He could feel the entity puppeteering and warping the corpse trying to escape its dying vessel, to flee into the Temple's corridors in order to find another one.

He wouldn't let that happen. He turned off his lightstaff, attached it to his belt, spread his hands out, and drew upon the Force while reciting incantations he'd learned from Darth Cain's library of Sith lore in an age now considered myth by the Republic. He couldn't control the creature, that knowledge had been lost when Sicarus had been razed to the ground in one terrible night of cleansing after the Emperor's death, but merely keeping it in place was another matter.

With the words and his power, he kept the essence of the monster – the essence of Samus – trapped within the corpse of its latest victim. He felt it thrash and rage, heard it whisper into his mind and clawing at his mental defenses, but he didn't give it an inch.

He had a feeling his date with Nefertari had been indefinitely postponed, and he used the frustration to fuel his power. Not exactly the interpretation of the Sith Code's second verse that his professors at the Academy had taught him, but it felt appropriate.

---

Some time later, Iskandar and Nefertari stood in the audience chamber of the Temple, Darth Cain looming over them from his throne. The usual honor guard of troopers lined the walls, and JURG-N stood at Darth Cain's side as always.

The Lord of Terror had descended in person into the Temple's depths, taking over containing Samus' essence within the corpse and carrying it with the Force back to its cell in the vault. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Iskandar felt proud of the way the Darth had complimented his ritual work as he took over from him, however hasty it'd been.

"You did well, both of you," said Cain. "Having Samus escape to Perlia would have been a disaster, especially with the refugee city so close by."

"We would have tracked it down eventually," Nefertari said, and Iskandar suppressed a wince at his lover's bluntness. Fortunately, Darth Cain seemed to be in a generous mood.

"Of course, but in the meantime, it could have caused untold devastation. Casualties aside, that would have done great harm to our image on the galactic scene. Now, where's the Duros ?"

"In the prison, lord," replied Iskandar. "But we found this on him."

He held up the crimson Holocron they'd found in the intruder's pocket, and felt it leave his hand to fly into Darth Cain's grasp. For several seconds, the Sovereign of Perlia examined the artefact.

"I do not recognize this Holocron," mused the Lord of Terror. "And I know every dangerous piece of Dark Side arcana which was locked away in my vault."

Iskandar blinked, confused. That … that should be impossible.

"Perhaps," he dared suggest aloud, "the robbers brought it with them, thinking it might help them ?"

Cain shook his head. "A logical deduction, but no. When I sealed away the Beast of Whisperhead Mountains again, there was a plinth in its cell that wasn't there before – one on which a Sith Holocron had rested for many years, I could feel it."

Iskandar didn't know what to say, so he stayed silent, as did Nefertari.

"I suppose there's only one way to know," mused the Sith Lord, and with a pulse of the Dark Side that made Iskandar shiver all the way to where he knelt, he activated the Holocron.

The ancient relic shifted open, and projected a life-size figure in the air. The figure wore traditional Sith robes of a clearly masculine cut, and wore a mask that resembled nothing more than a metallic skull. Iskandar recognized that mask, and forced himself to swallow a gasp. Back in the days of the Empire, it had been a relic of great age and power. The mask of Lord Kallig, an ancient Sith, whose name had been made famous by his distant descendant.

Clearly, Darth Cain recognized the mask as well. When he spoke, it was with the voice of someone who didn't dare believe the evidence of their senses.

"Imperius ?" the Sith Lord breathed.

"Hello, old friend," replied the crimson ghost. "I have been waiting for you."

Notes:

AN : Yes, I know. An entire chapter without a Cain POV. But given that this chapter was basically a cross between a heist and horror story, having him get involved directly wouldn't have fit. I promise we'll see his reaction first thing in the next chapter.

What's that ? You're more concerned about what the kark the holocron was doing in Cain's vault ? Don't worry, Cain is surprised too, and you'll get answer in the next chapter, which hopefully shouldn't take as long as this one did. And boy, did this chapter fight me, only to end up being the shortest yet in this story. I don't regret trying something new, but it was a challenge, and I hope the result wasn't disappointing.

Samus, for those of you who came from the Star Wars side and are probably very confused, is the name of a powerful daemon in the 40K universe, specifically from the Horus Heresy series. It is quite the influential figure there, and I will probably elaborate on its nature in this story and how it ended up trapped in the Lord of Terror's vault later.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and look forward to your thoughts and theories as to what game Darth Imperius (who, for those unaware, is a Light-Sided Sith Inquisitor Player Character from Star Wars : The Old Republic) is playing.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 16: Holocron

I do not mind admitting that I stared at the specter of Darth Imperius for several seconds in nothing less than absolute shock. Then reason reasserted itself, and I glanced at Khayon and Nefertari, who were looking equally surprised.

Right, first things first. Deal with the acolytes before the Sith Lord – a principle which applied as much on the battlefield as it did now.

"You have done well to bring this to me," I told them sincerely enough. It wasn't their fault that they'd just caused me a great number of headaches in the coming days, and they prevented a lot of trouble by stopping Samus from getting out of the Temple. "Now, leave, and tell no one of what you just saw."

"Yes, Lord," the two acolytes replied in unison. I felt Khayon's reluctance – he knew Imperius' reputation of old, and was no doubt as curious as I was to learn what the kark his Holocron had been doing in my vault. But the pureblooded Sith obeyed my order without challenge. I gave the same order to the guards lining the chamber, then turned to my aide.

"JURG-N, please go find Knight Vail and tell her I require her presence at her earliest convenience," I told him.

Thanks to our long association, I knew Amberley would correctly translate it to 'please come right now, something just karked up and while nothing is on fire, I need to talk with you about handling the fallout'. I could have been more direct, but Amberley was unlikely to be alone when JURG-N found her, and I had an image to maintain.

"Right away, sir," my aide nodded, and left.

I gestured with my hand, called on the Force, and slammed the doors of the audience chamber shut. Finally, I was alone in the room with the projected image of one of the most powerful and iconoclastic members of the Dark Council I had ever known, who was looking down at me, having mercifully remained silent.

I considered tossing the Holocron back into the vault and forgetting that this had ever happened, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. For one thing, Khayon and Nefertari already knew about it, and would wonder why I would do such a thing; for another, I owed Imperius too much to treat his legacy with such disrespect.

But I was sorely tempted, let me tell you.

"You broke into my vault while I was gone, didn't you," I said after mentally fortifying myself for what promised to be a very edifying conversation.

"I did," the projected image agreed cheerfully and without a hint of shame, before cocking his head to the side quizzically. "Or at least I suppose I did. I don't have those memories, for obvious reasons, but that was the plan, yes."

I had never been clear on the exact mechanics of Holocron creation. Erebus hadn't been interested in teaching those to his apprentices, though I knew for a fact the old monster had known the secrets of creating imprints of his mind and memories in Force-sensitive crystal. I had gone through a great deal of effort to make sure all of the resulting creations were destroyed, with the help of people from both sides of the Galactic War. Nobody, whether Jedi or Sith, had wanted my Master to pop up again – except maybe the Emperor. But he hadn't pulled one even when we'd cornered the last remnants of his Cult on Molech, so I felt reasonably safe in assuming every Holocron of the Vile One had been destroyed.

Nor had I ever been interested in creating one myself. The chances that someone would use it to figure out the truth behind the legend of Darth Cain, the Lord of Terror, was too great to risk it – hells, the remote possibility that the object might actually end up with the personality I'd faked since being dragged out of the ruins of Sicarus by Lord Scourge was too terrifying to contemplate.

But I had interacted with enough of the things to understand Imperius' point. Since the Holocron had been created before being put inside the vault, obviously it wouldn't contain the memories of how it had gotten inside my collection of horrors.

"Yes, I know," I said. "Still, you must know what your original self's plan was. What the kark were you thinking, opening Samus' cage to put your Holocron inside ? What if it had gotten out ? Are you mad ?!"

The moment the words left my lips, I knew how stupid of a question that had been. This was the man who had thought binding himself to several ancient Force ghosts was a perfectly reasonable way to increase his power, and that genetically modifying himself with Colicoid traits was the correct answer to having to wade through industrial run-off – instead of, you know, investing in a biohazard suit resilient enough to withstand the stuff for a few minutes.

"I can only assume my living self took all the appropriate precautions," he replied with a shrug. "Samus was still inside when the robbers opened it, wasn't it ?"

"Yes," I said between gritted teeth, "and it broke out the moment that happened. Luckily two of my acolytes were having a tryst in the lower levels and neutralized its host before it could escape the Temple. Damn it, Imperius, you know how dangerous that wraith is and how much damage it did before I bound it !"

"Ah. Sorry about that," he said, with the same level of concern as if he were apologizing for accidentally spilling alcohol on my coat. "I tried to contact you when you came down to the vault some time ago, but you were guarding your mind too well."

Well, of course I had been. I knew exactly what kind of horrors lurked within the many cells I had ordered carved into the stone by droid crews (after the first few incidents of a living worker succumbing to the influence of the artefacts already sealed down there, I had pivoted to an entirely mechanized workforce). From the moment I had passed the warning arch with the message I had personally engraved in the somewhat foolish hope it'd keep at least some robbers at bay, I had kept my mental defenses up.

The deeper into the vault I went to make sure the seals on each cell were still in place, the more I'd strengthened them. Then, I had checked on the reality-warping properties I had infused into the vault using some of the less questionable knowledge I'd gained during my apprenticeship, once it had become clear I wouldn't be able to get rid of its contents.

It had taken me an entire day before I was satisfied, and during that time, I had felt the more dangerous pieces of the vault's contents (I tried very hard not to use the term 'inmates' to refer to them, even in my thoughts) try to break into my mind. None of them had succeeded, but if Imperius' voice had been among them, I wasn't surprised to have completely missed it – the first rule of interacting with Dark Side artefacts was that you did not listen to the voices.

"Anyway !" the holographic image clapped his hands. "I see you're back from your little hyperspace misadventure. How long did it take you to finish your jump in the end ?"

"Three and a half thousand years," I told him, not even bothering to try softening the blow.

"Ah." The specter paused. "That's … longer than I expected. Our technical experts only had the vaguest figures to give us, using the data from the sensors of the rest of the Molech coalition fleet which witnessed your departure, but those who didn't think you had simply disintegrated across several dozens light-years thought you'd return within a handful of decades at most."

"Try seeing it from my perspective," I said drily. "I arrived right in time to find Perlia besieged by a pirate fleet. The galaxy is a very different place from when we left it."

"Oh ? Sounds like there is a story there," said Imperius, leaning forward and radiating curiosity. "Well, go on, then. Get me up to speed. What did I miss ?"

I had many questions I wanted to ask myself, mostly about what had happened after the Invincible's disappearance. The archives of the Republic from that time period were painfully scarce, at least according to the historians who had flocked to Perlia once it'd become clear the ancient Sith who had taken over the place weren't going to butcher them all for intruding. Even the Perlians remembered little of the details of that period, their history having long since faded into myth and legend, as proven by the way in which they'd welcomed the return of their ancient Sith overlord with open arms and what I had been forced to recognize was genuine joy rather than the abject terror I would have expected.

But I knew better than to try to refuse Imperius when he wanted to know something. If this Holocron had even a fraction of his stubbornness, then I was better served simply telling him what he wanted to know and then ask my own questions. So, for the next ten minutes or so, I did my best to sum up what I'd been told by Trevellyan, and then Agent Malden and the rest of our Intelligence contingent in the months since my arrival.

By the time I was finished, Imperius looked about as serious as I'd ever seen him.

"So the Empire collapsed, and then, after two and a half millennia of minor skirmishes, the Darksiders united to bring about these 'New Sith Wars' …" He sighed. "I suppose it was too much to hope that our brethren would see the writing on the wall and stop perpetuating the cycle of violence without Vitiate to pull the strings."

"If you really thought that would happen, then you were more optimistic than I ever took you to be," I replied. "The Emperor might have manipulated our people, but to lay all the blame on his shoulders for the Empire's flaws would be ignoring how many of our peers gleefully enabled and benefited from them."

"I know, I know. It really was more of a forlorn hope," he shook his head, then immediately perked up, and I braced myself instinctively. "By the way, I noticed you told JURG-N to get Knight Vail. Is dear Amberley here too ? I knew she was aboard the Invincible when it was lost, but I didn't expect her to stick around on Perlia."

"Yes," I said. "She is here, as part of the Republic's diplomatic mission. The Jedi Order were very curious to meet with one of the legendary Knights of the Old Republic."

The mask of Lord Kallig stared at me for several seconds, and then Imperius started laughing like a madman.

"Oh, that's brilliant," he chuckled once he was done. "I always liked her, and she was very good for you. What else have you been up to ?"

"I have been waging war against the Hutt Cartels to eliminate slavery from the Outer Rim," I said, eager to shift the subject from my relationship with Amberley.

Out of all the Sith Lords with whom I was acquainted, Imperius had been the only one to suspect the truth of my bond with her, but he'd never said anything about it in public. With anyone else, I would have seen that as a potential danger, but I was equally aware that he was secretly married to his own ex-Padawan 'Apprentice'. That relationship got a lot less questionable when you knew Imperius' true character, as the man was possibly the one Sith in the entire Empire whose reputation was more different from his true nature than myself, even if he was still incredibly dangerous.

"So far, it's been going well, mostly because they don't seem used to the people fighting back against them not being hopelessly outmatched and outnumbered by their minions," I continued. "We've liberated Tatooine – apparently the Republic let it fall into their hands a few centuries ago – and crushed their first attempt at gathering an army from mercenaries and pirates."

"Good !" he said, with the edge of bloodlust I'd expected in his voice. "It's well past time someone did something about them. If it has truly been a thousand years since the Jedi defeated our distant descendants once and for all, I can hardly believe they've left the slugs alone for so long."

"About that," I said, "I've reason to believe the Jedi's belief that they wiped out the Sith at the end of the New Sith Wars is mistaken. That, or someone stumbled upon a cache of Sith knowledge in the centuries since and decided to name themselves Sith."

"What do you mean ?"

"The raiding fleet I found in the system when I arrived was led by a Dark Side acolyte," I explained. "The wretch wouldn't have qualified as a student of the Academy, but he had a knack for mental manipulation and enslaved his entire bridge crew to his will. I killed him, but before he died, he tried to warn me off by claiming to have been sent by one 'Darth Sidious'. I've had Malden try to find out more about this individual, but he's been busy rebuilding his spy networks across the Outer Rim and hasn't found anything yet."

"I see," said Imperius. "Then, between the Hutts and this hidden enemy, you are going to love the other little surprise I left for you."

My guard, which had begun to relax as I briefed the Holocron's ghost, immediately went back up again. In my experience, Imperius' 'surprises' never ended well. Sure, they often ended up working out to his advantage one way or another, but that was because the Sith Lord had gleefully danced on the line between genius and sanity for years, much to the annoyance of everyone who interacted with him, be they Imperials or Republicans.

"What surprise are you talking about, exactly ?" I asked, dreading the answer but knowing there was no point delaying the inevitable.

"Oh, you know, just a little thing." He paused, then shook his head, and continued, this time with more seriousness than I was used to hear from him, a fact which immediately made me even more worried. "It will take a while to explain, though."

"I expect it'll still take some time for JURG-N to find Amberley and come back." I also expected I would want Amberley with me once Imperius was done, either to help me plan a response or just to hold me while I sobbed uncontrollably. "We have time. Speak."

"Very well," he replied. "It won't surprise you to hear that, after your disappearance, it didn't take long for the war between the Empire and the Republic to restart."

"Of course not," I groaned. "Fear of the Emperor returning was the only thing that made us unite to attack Molech."

"True, and suspicions that the Republic was to blame for your disappearance didn't help the matter, although to be honest, another excuse would have been found in any case."

Which was mildly reassuring, as it meant the fault in my flagship's hyperdrive hadn't been responsible for restarting the decades-long conflict between galactic superpowers. Not that I really cared about it, seeing that everyone involved was long since dead, but the soldiers under my command might have blamed my flagship's mechanics, and I needed them to keep the Invincible flying when Skywalker wasn't around to magically fix everything.

"The Dark Council failed to stay united without an Emperor to keep us in line through sheer power," Imperius continued, "which made our war effort lack even the modicum of cohesion we were capable of in previous conflicts. Soon, nobody could deny we were going to lose, even if few dared to voice the truth in public."

Again, that was only to be expected. Patriotism had been one of the Empire's most lauded virtues, in the sense that anyone perceived to lack it could expect to be severely punished for it at any time. Contrary to expectations, the dissolution of Imperial Intelligence hadn't improved things there, as the all-seeing eyes of the dreaded agency had been replaced with rumor-mongering and mob justice, to say nothing of the Sith Lords who'd taken it upon themselves to enforce the loyalty of their subjects, using methods which inevitably led to more rebellion further down the track.

Even beyond the fear of punishment for seeming to lack dedication to the Empire, though, there was no denying the fact that many Imperial citizens had genuinely believed in the Emperor's rhetoric. For all his many, many flaws, Vitiate had been a genius manipulator, and his complete and utter lack of empathy hadn't extended to not realizing that a population motivated by pride and fear could accomplish more than one motivated by fear alone.

It was one of the few ways in which he'd differed from Erebus.

"There were a few morons who suggested we use the contents of your vault against the Republic," Imperius went on, "but those of us with a modicum of sanity shut down that idea fast. I must admit, the thought of your collection being let loose made for some strange voting alliances on the Dark Council."

"I would damn well hope so," I muttered under my breath, though of course he heard me anyway.

Imperius had known exactly the kind of things I kept locked under the Temple : he had handed me a few himself which he didn't think could be trusted to the Ministry of Ancient Knowledge. Which, considering what he had entrusted to his subordinates, was evidence enough of the utter insanity of the idea. Trying to use the contents of the vault against the Republic would have been incredibly stupid, but unfortunately that didn't mean I couldn't believe some of my peers wouldn't have wanted to try anyway. For all his eccentricity, Imperius could be downright calm and rational compared to the rest of the Empire's Force-wielding elite.

"Thanks to the times we'd joined forces against a common enemy, there were still diplomatic channels open with the Republic," Imperius went on. "Me and a few others were willing to consider surrender, but other members of the Council wanted to fight to the death. We would have just killed them all, but the sentiment was shared by a significant portion of the military, and killing them all would have been counterproductive, and taken too much time besides."

"Of course," I sighed. Given my own experience with the Imperial Army, I wasn't even surprised.

"So I came up with a plan to satisfy the warmongers and let them surrender without 'sacrificing their honor'," Imperius revealed, finally getting to the heart of the matter. "If they thought there was still a chance that the Sith Empire would return someday, then they could accept defeat now rather than fight to the last man."

"What," I asked slowly, "did you do ?"

"We built a hidden fortress, and stored an entire army's worth of soldiers, equipment, and ships in it," he announced. "We used the Carbonite tech developed by the Republic on Belsavis to freeze the soldiers, and set up maintenance droids to keep the whole place running for as long as it took. By that time, the entire Empire was in shambles. Between three galactic wars, the Zakuul invasion and more internal conflicts than even a Cyborg could keep track of, nobody was sure how many ships and soldiers we still had in total. In the chaos, making an entire fleet disappear wasn't that difficult. Only the members of the Dark Council were told of its existence, along with a handful of Moffs, but that was enough to convince the warhawks that stopping the war and 'preserving our resources' for when this army returned decades or even centuries in the future, led by the Lord of Terror, whose martial prowess was respected by all, was our best course of action."

I stared at the projection, struggling to process what I had heard. It was an insane plan, but unfortunately that hardly meant the Sith Empire I'd spent my entire life in wouldn't have considered it. If anything, the fact it was all designed to convince the rest of the Empire to surrender to the Republic made it a notch saner than most.

"And it worked ?" I asked.

Again, the Holocron projection shrugged. "Presumably ? You would have to check historical records to see how exactly the rest of the Empire fell. I know that the Dark Council was withdrawing the remaining Imperial forces from contested systems and messages were being sent to demand parley, but not how it ended. For myself, the plan was to fake my death and disappear right after dropping my Holocron into your vault. I hoped to retire to some tropical beach with Ashara and enough credits not to ever have to work for the rest of my life."

"The Republic's records of that time period aren't the most detailed, unfortunately. And weren't you supposed to be immortal after that business on Rishi ?" I frowned, fairly sure I was remembering that particular debriefing nightmare correctly.

"Nobody is immortal, Cain," he said not without kindness. "We all learned that lesson on Molech, me more than most. Really, it's a miracle I made it off that accursed world alive at all. I may have lived longer than the rest of our contemporaries, but wherever my body lies, it is little more than dust now. My abilities are a fraction of what they once were, but enough of them remains that I can feel my original self passed into the Force a long, long time ago."

The words hit me harder than I had expected. I realized that, upon seeing his image, some part of me had hoped that he might have survived all these centuries – that one small part of my life that, despite all the trouble he'd brought me, I looked on with something approaching fondness, might have endured.

I should have known better. Three and half thousand years were far too long for any sentient to live through, even the Empire's famed Keeper of Knowledge – and I had seen the wounds he'd suffered on Molech, fighting the last slaves of the Emperor. They'd been even more severe than Amberley's : that he'd survived at all was testament to how much he'd altered himself in the course of his adventures.

"I see," I said simply, silently mourning the passing of one of the few beings in the galaxy whom, for all that he'd been an infuriating madman, had been my friend.

After a moment, I took a deep breath. The past was the past, and I had the future to worry about, especially in light of Imperius' 'surprise'. "And where exactly is this army ?"

"The coordinates and command codes of the fortress are stored in the Holocron," Imperius explained. "It's somewhere in the Outer Rim, far from any occupied or valuable system, and reaching it requires navigating a dangerous and complex hyperspace route. Without the Holocron's guidance, it's possible, but dangerous, and the fortress has its own security systems which should still be running, even now."

I questioned the feasibility of any security system remaining operational after thousands of years, but figured that if anyone knew how to make it happen, it would be the man who'd spent years breaking into the tombs of ancient Sith Lords and plundering their treasures regardless of how many deadly traps they left to guard them.

"What if the Invincible had just been destroyed, like most of your scientists believed ?" I asked, deciding to address the most obvious flaw in the whole mad scheme I could think of. "What if I'd never come back ?"

"We were aware of the possibility, even if I personally was convinced you would return," said Imperius. "To that end, while the recording of my knowledge and personality can only be accessed by you or your apprentice, anyone with the ability to open a Sith Holocron can get the coordinates and access codes. Sooner or later, someone would have figured it out, and there are few Darksiders who would be able to resist the temptation of an entire Sith army waiting to be reawakened, even if their chances of simply taking control of it and using it for their own ambitions would have been … slim."

With a suppressed shudder, I realized that was more true than Imperius thought. If the Invincible hadn't returned to the galaxy when it did, Perlia would have been ransacked by that little wretch Varan, and the Holocron, along with the other artefacts in the vault, would've been stolen – although I shivered to imagine what would've been left of the planet afterwards, since there was no way that petty dabbler would've managed to suppress the horrors locked away in the Temple's depths.

Most likely the world and the pirate fleet would have been wiped out, reduced to one more ghost story of the Outer Rim. But the Holocron would have been out, and a treasure of such value wouldn't have gone unnoticed for long, especially with Varan's master, the elusive Darth Sidious, searching the ruins for treasures. Logically, such a small artefact could have gotten lost and never be found again, or even destroyed before its secrets could be uncovered, but I was far too familiar with the Force's twisted sense of humor to believe it would have let such a thing come to pass.

"Also," Imperius dragged me out of my dark imaginings with barely-suppressed hilarity, "I think you're going to like who we chose to lead the frozen forces in case they were reawakened by someone other than you or your apprentice."

"And who is that ?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Imperius told me. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, I regretted that, for various reasons, I couldn't strangle him.

---

Bane was surprised to wake up – and more than a bit worried. He'd fully expected to be killed while unconscious : the look on that Twi'lek face had been one he'd seen before, and never in good circumstances. The red-skinned tall guy she'd been with must have been something, to be able to keep her from finishing him off while he was unconscious.

Still, this wasn't his first rodeo, and once his headache had faded enough for him to think clearly, he took stock of his surroundings. He was in a cell, his wrists and ankles chained to the wall by thick bands of metal. The light from the ceiling was weak, but enough for him to notice the restraints lacked anything resembling a keyhole : he'd a feeling they could only be opened by someone capable of wielding the Force.

He'd been stripped of his clothes and gear, and was clad only in a drab prisoner uniform that protected his modesty and little else. He didn't feel any bruises that couldn't be attributed to his panicked flight through the Temple; in fact, he could see the healing patches and bandages that had been applied to his injuries. Even the stumps where his hands had been were properly bandaged, and he barely felt the pain of his missing extremities, meaning some kind of numbing agent had been applied.

Cute. If his captors thought that was going to convince him to talk, they were wrong. He wasn't going to tell them anything. The longer he lasted, the greater his chances that Sidious would try to get him out. Of course, he was equally likely to just kill him to silence him, but keeping quiet was still his best chance of survival.

Even if Sidious had given up on him, Bane still held another card : the fact that it'd been Count Dooku who had helped his team get on Perlia in the first place. If the Count knew Bane had been captured, then he would be desperate to get him out – or, again, kill him, but he'd to take his chance.

After some time – short enough that he must have been under surveillance, though he couldn't see any cameras in the cell – the door swung open, and Darth Cain stepped in, his pet droid following before the door closed. The Sith Lord looked down at Bane like he was something disgusting he'd found on his boot, and Bane had to admit he was nailing the look : the bounty hunter had met plenty of people in position of power before, and none of them had quite managed it that well.

"The head honcho himself," Bane rasped. His throat was starting to get uncomfortably dry, but that was rather low on his list of priorities at the moment. "I'm flattered. I would bow, but I'm afraid I'm a bit tied up at the moment."

"I have questions for you," said the Sith Lord.

"I'm sure you do," the bounty hunter chuckled. "But I'm not –"

Abruptly, the Duros stopped talking, as the light in the cell seemed to dim, until there was only the cold, yellow gaze of the Lord of Terror pinning him in place like an insect.

Bane knew fear. As his skills and reputation grew, he had used it more and more as a tool, but there'd been a time when he'd been afraid of everyone bigger and meaner than him, just like everyone else. That'd been a long time ago, though, and nothing compared to what he felt now. Back then, he'd used the fear to motivate himself to get better, to rise above those who frightened him, and until now, he'd thought he'd mostly succeeded. Sure, he worried about Sidious deciding to kill him, but there was a difference between worry and fear.

He knew the fear was fake, that it was caused by Darth Cain's mystical abilities. But knowing didn't help. When he'd heard about Darth Cain's ability, he'd thought he could fight through it if he ever got close to the Sith Lord (even if the plan had been to stay far, far out of his way). He had been wrong. In that moment, Cad Bane would say and do anything if it meant the source of the horrible feeling just went away away away away –

"What is your name ?" asked Darth Cain, his words cutting through the fog of terror that was swallowing Bane's mind.

"Cad Bane," he replied immediately, and the horrible pressure relaxed ever so slightly.

"Why did you break into the vault ?"

"I'm a bounty hunter," Bane said, the words almost tripping each other on his tongue. "I was hired for the job. Gather a team, get into the vault, steal as much valuable artefacts as possible, with Holocrons taking priority. Then get out and hand over the goods in exchange for more money than I could spend in a dozen lifetimes."

"Letting greed blind you was a poor decision," the Sith Lord chided him. "Who hired you ?"

Even in his current state, Bane knew that answering this question was dangerous, but he couldn't remember why. He tried to think, but the pressure increased back to its initial level, and he nearly howled the answer :

"Darth Sidious ! His name is Darth Sidious ! He contacts by holocall, looks and sounds like a Human male, always pays well, never been able to track the credits past the first few intermediaries ! That's all I know, I swear !"

Instead of decreasing, the feeling of unnatural terror suddenly spiked, and the Duros shook in his restraints, his heart beating far faster than was healthy. Somehow, Cain wasn't happy with what Bane had said, and in that moment, the bounty hunter felt absolutely certain he was going to die for it.

"Wait, wait !" For the first time in decades, Bane outright begged. If he could tell Cain about Dooku, maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to save his life ? "There's something I know that you –"

Bane stopped talking, but not because he wanted to. Something was wrong. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. Then he realized that he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe –

"JURG-N," he heard Darth Cain say, but the words were fading, as if they were coming from far, far away. "Call the medic –"

And then, darkness.

---

Count Dooku took a deep breath as he felt the spark of Cad Bane's life go dark.

When the bounty hunter had contacted him using Sidious' channel, he had taken precautions, of course. One didn't build something like the Separatist Movement while being a secret Sith Lord without knowing a few tricks to keep people from spreading secrets.

So, when the thieves were aboard the transport that had brought them to Perlia, their food had been spiked with microscopic droids, which had then taken root in their brain stem, waiting for their activation signal. It was a crude, imperfect method : the droids could only survive on their own for a few days, and the activation signal could only be sent by someone gifted in the Force and close enough to reach out and trigger them. Add to that the fact Bane had been held in the Sith Temple, and had been in Darth Cain's own presence, and it had taken all of Dooku's focus to kill Bane in time to keep him from revealing his own involvement.

Not that he believed the Lord of Terror hadn't sensed someone was responsible for Bane's abrupt demise. An autopsy would reveal the presence of the nano-droids, but Cain had been in the damn room : Dooku had to assume he knew someone had used the Force to activate them. In truth, the Count of Serenno was surprised his desperate ploy had worked at all : when he'd sensed the presence of the Lord of Terror, he'd fully expected to be stopped before he could silence the bounty hunter. Surely, Darth Cain could stop another Force user from manipulating his surroundings – and yet, for some unknowable reason, he hadn't done so.

Dooku knew he'd only delayed the inevitable. The operatives from Imperial Intelligence who had arrived with the Invincible were still in the process of rebuilding their influence, but here on Perlia, very little escaped their attention. For all his skill at intrigue, Dooku was under no illusion than he was little more than a talented amateur compared to them, and his participation in smuggling Bane's team onto the planet was all but certain to be discovered in time. If Cain had held back from arresting him because he thought he needed evidence to avoid damaging his relationship to the Separatists or the Republic, perhaps that was the reason.

The Count considered simply leaving Perlia. Officially, there was nothing keeping him here : he had come as an ex-Jedi and as the representative of the Separatist Movement, but there were other diplomatic envoys on Perlia now, though they stayed in the capital and didn't come to the Sith Temple. He could claim his responsibilities on Serenno demanded that he return home, and it was unlikely the Invincible would shoot his ship to pieces on the way out.

But Sidious wanted him to infiltrate himself into the ranks of Cain's growing alliance, and Dooku's Master wouldn't take kindly to him abandoning his mission. So he was stuck here. Ironically, Perlia was probably the planet where he was safest from his Master, as the same security which watched him would make it more difficult for any hired killer to reach him.

If Cain confronted him, Dooku would have no choice but to admit everything and beg the Lord of Terror for mercy. But he had a feeling Cain, who had sharpened his fangs in the deadly court of the Sith Empire, was too cunning for such a blatant move. There was some deeper game at play here, and Dooku decided that, if nothing else, he would do all he could to figure it out before the end.

He still had his pride, after all.

---

In Obi-Wan's opinion, being asked to attend the Lord of Terror in his throneroom wasn't an experience that got less stressful the more times it happened. Maybe it was because every time, the Sith Lord dropped some galaxy-shaking announcement, whose repercussions would be felt and studied for years to come.

He and his Padawan had been helping out in the refugee camps when the summon had come. Despite all the doubts Obi-Wan had about Darth Cain's motives, there was no denying the work was good for the soul : helping assemble prefabricated houses for the new arrivals was simple, tiring, honest and unquestionable work, which the Jedi Knight really needed after being surrounded by politics and diplomacy.

And Anakin absolutely loved it, of course, especially since it gave him more time with his mother. Shmi Skywalker-Lars hadn't quite become the unofficial mayor of the growing town, but you wouldn't believe it looking at the small, thin woman ordering around members of a dozen species and more – or the way the Sith soldiers who had come to pick the Jedi up had respectfully greeted her before telling Obi-Wan the Lord of Terror requested his and his Padawan's presence at once.

Knight Vail was already in the room when they arrived, and Darth Cain's apprentice stood at his side, opposite his droid aide.

"As you may have heard," began the Sith Lord, "there was an … incident, yesterday. A party of thieves attempted to break into the vault beneath the Temple. It went extremely poorly for them : only one survived, and fled pursued by the possessed corpse of another until they were intercepted by two of my acolytes, who dealt with the issue."

Oh, no. The partial list of the vault's contents Knight Vail had delivered to the Order had been some of the worst reading material Obi-Wan had ever seen, and he had once been forced to go through the correspondence of a politician enamoured of a local celebrity – it was a long story, and one he would take to his grave before letting Anakin know about.

"We were aware that something had occurred within the Temple," said Master Plo Koon. "It would have been difficult to miss the sudden flurry of activity among the troopers stationed here."

"Yes, I expected as much. But one of the reasons why I asked you to come is that the remaining thief was carrying this when he was captured," said the Lord of Terror, holding up a small pyramid of red crystal and golden furnishings.

There was a flare of energy from the Force, and a life-sized projection of a humanoid wearing an extremely creepy mask appeared above the device. Obi-Wan nearly choked in surprise as he realized that it must be a Sith Holocron. He'd never seen one of these before : supposedly, the Order had a number of them sealed away in the deepest recesses of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, but he'd never needed to go there, thank the Force.

"Hello, everyone," said the image, waggling his fingers in a greeting entirely at odds with his sinister appearance.

"This is Darth Imperius, an old friend of mine who decided to leave his Holocron in my vault," explained Darth Cain. "Given that he's going to serve on my council for the foreseeable future, I thought it best to introduce you all to him. Imperius, these are the Jedi envoys I mentioned earlier : Master Plo Koon, Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Padawan Anakin Skywalker. You're already familiar with Knight Vail, of course."

"Of course," Darth Imperius nodded. "Greetings, Jedi. I must say, it is a pleasant difference to be able to talk to members of your Order without needing to cut my way through a company or two of Republic troopers trying to kill me first."

Obi-Wan and Plo Koon didn't know how to respond to that. Fortunately, or perhaps not, Anakin wasn't as restrained as them.

"Are you the old friend he mentioned in his speech ?" Obi-Wan's Padawan asked excitedly.

"Which speech ?" asked the Holocron's projection.

"The one where he said you inspired him to declare war against slavery," Obi-Wan's Padawan helpfully replied.

Somehow, despite wearing a mask that completely covered his head, the Holocron projection managed to be very expressive. Obi-Wan could hear the grin as he turned toward the Lord of Terror :

"Cai, you scoundrel ! You never told me that !"

"No," said the Sith Lord with what Obi-Wan could only describe as a resigned expression. "I didn't."

"Aaaw, look at you. Are you feeling shy ?"

Darth Cain remained resolutely silent, staring into the distance with the look of someone wilfully ignoring an annoying friend. It made him look a lot more Human, and Obi-Wan wasn't sure how to process that.

"I have to say," Master Plo Koon ventured, addressing the Holocron, "you aren't anything at all like how I imagined one of Darth Cain's contemporaries."

"Back in the days of the Old Republic, Darth Imperius was known to be … eccentric, shall we say, for a member of the Dark Council," said Knight Vail.

"That's certainly one word for it," agreed the Holocron ghost. "Another would be 'crazy', although I personally prefer 'differently rational'."

Among the records of the Old Republic Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu had compiled for the Jedi envoys before their departure from Coruscant had been a biography of Darth Imperius, member of the Dark Council and Holder of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. The list of deeds attributed to him had been … concerning, and Obi-Wan remembered feeling quite intimidated that Darth Cain had been a contemporary, and apparently peer and ally, to such a figure.

He reminded himself that, as a Holocron, there wasn't much harm the ancient Sith Lord could do, and ignored what felt suspiciously like laughter from the Force at the thought.

"I thought the vault was impregnable ?" asked Anakin.

"I have plenty of experience breaking into well-defended places containing dangerous artefacts," replied the Holocron. "I started when I was a student at the Academy on Korriban. Back then, my teacher was trying to get me killed; instead, I ended up making it a career."

"The thieves were sent by Darth Sidious, a Sith Lord also responsible for sending Varan and his pirate fleet to Perlia months ago. Unfortunately, the sole survivor died during interrogation, from what I believe to have been a kill-switch placed by Sidious to ensure he couldn't reveal too much in the event of capture."

"I am, of course, aware that it is the Republic's position that, prior to the Invincible's return, the Sith had been extinct for the past millennia. However, I have been reliably informed that there has been evidence to the contrary in recent years. Isn't that correct, Knight Kenobi ?"

"Yes, Lord Cain. Me and my Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, did encounter a Sith warrior during the Naboo Crisis six years ago. According to the Trade Federation, he was called Maul."

"I believe Sidious has been hiding in the Outer Rim, beyond the reach of the Republic and the Jedi Order. Given the lawlessness that reigns there, a Master-Apprentice lineage with enough resources could have concealed its existence for a thousand years."

"You think there's a Sith Lord behind the Cartels ?"

"No, but I do believe Sidious will ally himself with them, if he hasn't already. He doesn't have a choice, after all."

Ah, right. Of course. What a terrifyingly casual reminder that Cain would absolutely kill this other Sith Lord the moment he had the chance in order to remove a rival and avenge the insult of daring to attack Perlia in the first place.

"Given your own connection to these modern Sith," Darth Cain looked at Obi-Wan, "I felt it was only right to inform you. There is no doubt in my mind that as our war against the Hutt Cartels continue, we will encounter more pawns of Sidious, and I would be remiss not to offer you the opportunity to avenge your Master by taking down the Sith Lord who orchestrated his death."

"Revenge is not the Jedi way," Obi-Wan replied automatically. "And I did kill the Sith responsible for my Master's death on Naboo."

"You killed the acolyte who wielded the lightsaber, but he wasn't there by his own choice. Sidious sent him to Naboo, which indicates he was involved in this whole Trade Federation business I have been informed about. Come to think of it, Senator Amidala was Queen of Naboo at the time, was she not ? I will need to speak with her on the matter. If Sidious targeted her planet once, he might involve her people in his schemes again."

"And in any case, revenge is most definitely the Sith way," Imperius cut in. "Cai will have to punish Sidious for daring to mess with his vault."

"First off, don't start calling me that," said the Lord of Terror. "Secondly, you aren't exactly qualified to talk about others 'messing with my vault'."

Obi-Wan spent the next few minutes increasingly convinced he was having some kind of fever dream as Darth Cain and Darth Imperius bickered like two old friends, completely ignoring everyone else in the room, until JURG-N made a noise that, in an organic, would have been a deliberate clearing of one's throat to draw attention. The two Sith Lords stopped talking at once.

"Right," sighed Cain. "My apologies for this. In any case, as I was saying, hunting down this Darth Sidious is going to be another of our objectives in our war against the Cartels. Back during the pirate attack on Perlia, the leader of the flotilla, Varan, actually claimed to be a servant of Sidious as well before I killed him. That's twice Sidious has struck against what is mine; there will not be a third time."

As the Lord of Terror spoke, the temperature in the audience chamber dropped again, frost forming on the walls and floor as freezing cold radiated from the enthroned Sith Lord. Revenge might not be the Jedi way, but Obi-Wan wouldn't lie to himself about his own emotions : part of him hoped to be present when Darth Cain finally confronted the Sith Lord who had orchestrated Qui-Gon's death.

---

The war council of Vaylin's Teacher met in a room several levels beneath the audience chamber, a couple of hours after the meeting with the Jedi envoys.

In addition to Teacher and JURG-N, Commanders Broklaw and Sulla and Agent Malden were also physically present, while Commodore Kasteen attended by holocall. With their conflict with the Hutts ongoing, the Commodore couldn't leave the Invincible : the chances that the Cartels would do something as stupid as attack the system were low, but not non-existent.

Finally, for the first time since their return to Perlia, there was a new member of the war council. Darth Imperius' Holocron was projected to Teacher's right, opposite where Vaylin herself sat. The specter of the Dark Councillor looked completely at ease in the meeting, which made sense, given the role he had occupied in life as one of the most powerful Sith of the Empire (although if membership of the Twelve had been an exact mark of being among the most powerful Imperial Sith Lords, then Teacher would have been a member).

The circular chamber, which was built in the same brutal architecture as most of the Temple, had been refitted by the Invincible's technicians : the black stone table around which they were all seated had been equipped with a holographic display, and the channel to the Invincible was as secure as centuries of paranoid Imperial engineering could manage. At present, the table was displaying a map of the Outer Rim, with several star systems outlined in different colors marking the territory claimed by the returned Sith, that of their tentative allies in the Separatist Movement, and the vast swathes of the galaxy controlled by the Hutt Cartels and their criminal vassals.

One system in particular was singled out among the latter : Rattatak, far beyond the nominal border that marked the end of the Republic's influence.

"With the intelligence Knight Narec and Padawan Ventress have given us, our next move is clear," opened Darth Cain. "Marlo the Hutt, the leader of the Cartels' efforts against us, seeks to replace the blaster fodder he lost on Savareen by recruiting the feuding clans of Rattatak to his banner. While I've no doubt our forces would prove superior, it would be far more efficient to prevent the recruitment in the first place, especially if we can bring the Rattataki to our side instead. Commodore Kasteen, what is the status of the fleet ?"

"The Invincible is ready for deployment," Kasteen saluted crisply. "The hyperdrive engines show no sign of malfunction or wear. If we take a small escort with us, the rest of the seized ships should be sufficient to defend Perlia, Tatooine and Savareen against opportunistic pirate fleets long enough for us to return."

"Excellent. Tell Chief Engineer Tyber and her crew to keep up the good work. Malden ?"

The Chiss cleared his throat. "The debriefing of our new friends has provided us with a wealth of information about the situation on Rattatak. There is no doubt in our mind that the Rattataki warriors are of a much higher calibre than the opposition you faced on Savareen, or at least will be once the Hutts provide them with modern equipment, which is well within their capabilities. While the political situation will no doubt have evolved by the time we arrive, we'll be able to provide you with multiple plans of attack within hours of our arrival."

"Thank you. Remember that we need our actions to be, if not legal according to Republican law, then at least palatable to the common Republic citizen." Teacher waited for Malden to nod his understanding before turning to the next member of the war council. "Commander Broklaw, what is the status of the Legion ?"

"Ready for battle as ever, Lord," replied Broklaw, banging his fist on his armored chest. "We won't disappoint you."

"I know you won't." The slightest smile appeared on Teacher's face. "What about the volunteers ?"

Since Teacher had made his speech following Perlia's official secession, the system had seen a small but steady flow of sentients willing to join the war against the Cartels. Most of them were civilians with little to no combat experience : members of philanthropic groups from the Middle Rim and the Core, who had spent years trying in vain to rally political support to help the most vulnerable populations of the Outer Rim. They had joined the work in the refugee city near the Temple, helping former slaves deal with their trauma and the various injuries and sicknesses that plagued them, along with a myriad other small but nonetheless important things.

But there were a few who, like Narec and Ventress, had fought to free slaves from their masters. Against the might of the Cartels, there'd never been anything like a unified liberation network in the Outer Rim, but countless small groups of freedom fighters had flared up over the millennia. Most had ended up crushed by the Hutts, killed by their minions or dragged before the slugs by bounty hunters to be subjected to horrible fates as a warning to others who might share their tender consciences.

Those who remained and who were willing to trust the word of a Sith had come to Perlia to offer their services – or, as they saw it, use the strength of the ancient Sith against their hated foe. Spies, slicers, pilots, medics, technicians : they had all come, aboard anonymous ships which hung in orbit far from the Invincible, like wary herbivores not quite trusting the krayt dragon truly meant them no harm.

"We are training the fighters among them in the combat style of the Clans," said Sulla. "Discipline is a bit of an issue, but I will say this for them : they are all very motivated."

"And the rest are being integrated in our operations," said Malden. "Collating all the intelligence they have brought us on the Cartels is going to take time, but I believe it will be well worth the effort in the long run. These people might lack formal training in tradecraft, but the ones who're coming to us are those who have managed to survive in Hutt territory for years : frankly, some of them are impressing even my people with their skills."

"Good," said Imperius approvingly. "Their determination isn't surprising : apart from a few hopeless idealists, I've no doubt most of them never expected to do any large-scale difference, just save a few souls from bondage before dying in action. And yet, they were willing to risk their lives all the same. Now that they have the opportunity to see the Cartels themselves fall, I expect there are very few things in the galaxy which could break their resolve."

There was a moment of silence as they all absorbed the words of the ghostly lord. Nobody had been surprised that Darth Imperius supported Teacher's crusade against the Cartels : the former Dark Councillor's past as a slave himself was nearly as well-known as his eccentricity. It had made him many enemies in the Empire, few of whom had survived past their first clash with Imperius – and those who did only lived as an example to the rest.

"Then we will depart Perlia in three days, once I have spoken with our foreign visitors and ensured we're covered on the diplomatic front. You all know your duties," said Teacher, dismissing the gathering. "Vaylin, stay behind, please."

One by one, the others filed out, sending curious glances back, no doubt wondering why their lord needed to speak to his apprentice as much as Vaylin herself was. Once only Vaylin, her Teacher, JURG-N, and the echo of Darth Imperius were left in the room and the thick doors had been sealed again, Darth Cain said :

"Vaylin, you will not accompany us to Rattatak. I have another task for you." Before she could protest, he raised his hand, silently telling her not to interrupt him until he was done. "Make no mistake : stopping the Cartels from recruiting the Rattataki warlords and bringing order to the world is of vital importance. But it will also draw the attention of everyone watching us, and serve as the perfect distraction for you to do something which will be even more important, not just our conflict with the Hutts, but our place in the current galaxy as well."

With that, Teacher proceeded to tell her what Darth Imperius' Holocron had revealed to him. By the time he was finished, Vaylin's mind was reeling with the tale's implications. An entire other army from the Sith Empire, frozen out of time for over thirty-five centuries. One powerful enough that the Dark Council and the top of the Imperial Army's leadership could be convinced that, along with the Invincible, it could feasibly battle the entire Republic following the Empire's surrender.

The Republic would absolutely freak out if it learned of it, Vaylin was certain of that. But in the war against the Cartels, it would be invaluable. Nothing the Hutts could throw at them could match the Legion and its auxiliaries, but there were only so many of them.

"I need you to take Imperius' Holocron with you aboard the Dread Son, go to the coordinates it contains, and awaken the frozen army," continued Teacher. "Much as I wish I could do so myself, I cannot : the Carbonite Army will be vulnerable during re-awakening. I could park the Invincible in the system while it wakes up, but that would leave the rest of our territory undefended : even with the new ships added to our fleet, it is the threat of the Invincible that keeps the Cartels and their minions at bay."

"So instead, the Invincible will be visible in the Rattatak system, ready to respond to any assault on your domain," Vaylin realized, following her Teacher's reasoning. She wasn't a great general like her brothers : she'd never received the same formal education in military matters they had. But she'd learned a lot in her years as Darth Cain's sole apprentice. "Leaving me free to journey there with the support personel I'll need to manage who knows how many soldiers freshly taken out of Carbonite. And while people will wonder why your apprentice isn't at your side, they'll probably think you've sent me on another liberation mission like on Tatooine … which will make the Cartels' wary of me and unwilling to send reinforcements to Rattatak while I might strike at them directly and send them to join Jabba."

It was a masterful scheme, which would serve multiple goals all at once – exactly what Vaylin would have expected from the one man she'd chosen to follow of her own free will.

"Precisely," her Teacher nodded.

While part of Vaylin was anxious to be separated from her Teacher again, a larger part of her preened at the trust he was showing her.

"One last thing," said Teacher. He looked hesitant, which was a rare thing indeed. "It's about the Sith who was selected to lead the Carbonite Army."

"Do I know them ?" she asked. She couldn't imagine another reason for his hesitation.

"Yes," replied Teacher. "You do."

He told her. And, for the first time in a long while, Vaylin had to fight back the urge to curse in front of her Teacher.

Notes:

AN : For the probably large number of you who are confused about the Carbonite Sith Army, this is not something I pulled out of a thin air, but a real thing from Legends. Specifically, it comes from the video game Star Wars : Empire at War : Forces of Corruption, where it is mentioned/revealed in the final cutscene of the campaign ... and then is never brought up again, ever, in any SW media. I didn't know about it when I started writing this story, but it was mentioned to me on the SB thread, and I decided this had too much potential for shenanigans not to use.

I'm having a lot of fun writing Imperius. I'm using my own playthrough of a Light-Sided Sith Inquisitor as inspiration, adding in an extra dose of craziness and the fact that Cain's presence meant the timeline got messed up so canon events didn't happen exactly as they did in SWTOR.

I think I've finally figured out the plan for Dooku. Right now, the Count is rather confused and conflicted, for obvious reasons. Like with the identity of the Carbonite Army's leader, Cain's reasoning where the identity of Bane's killer is concerned will be revealed in an upcoming chapter, and you are welcome to share your theories.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and I look forward to your thoughts, comments and wild theories. Check out the fantastic comic panels made for this story by GoatBane over on the SB thread if you haven't already, they're great (and while you are there, you might as well check the frankly alarming number of Omakes people have written for this fic).

Zahariel out

Chapter 17: Challenge

Anakin looked at the taller, bald girl in front of him, while their respective Masters stared awkwardly at each other. They had been on their way to the refectory closest to their quarters aboard the Invincible when they had crossed paths with the pair, whose clothes could hardly have been more different from the Imperial uniforms worn by everyone else.

More importantly, Anakin could feel the Force radiating from them. But it wasn't like the wrathful, stormy aura that surrounded the Sith acolytes, or the maelstrom of icy whispers that crawled around Darth Cain at all times. Instead, the Force around the two was similar to what Anakin was used to sensing from Jedi at the Temple, albeit a bit more agitated. Finally, the girl was younger than any of the Darksiders who had accompanied Darth Cain in his journey through time, and she looked too experienced to have been picked up by a Sith in the time since.

So, Anakin reasoned, the two must be a Master-Padawan pair, just like Obi-Wan and him. Except that, from some reason, the unknown Jedi looked worried, his aura spiking with fear, unease, and what Anakin was fairly certain was guilt. There was clearly something going on here that the adults needed to discuss, but they were hesitant about doing it with children present – even though Anakin didn't think of himself as a child, and the pale-skinned girl was clearly older.

Right. Time to be diplomatic, defuse the tension, and force the Jedi to start talking to each other.

"Hello !" He said, stretching out his hand to the other Padawan and giving her his most diplomatic, inoffensive smile. "I am Anakin Skywalker !"

"Nice to meet you," she replied, hesitantly shaking his hand with her own (which, Anakin noted, was just as calloused and scared as his own, if not more). "I am Asajj Ventress."

"You are using two lightsabers ?" Anakin asked, gesturing to the weapons at her belt. When she nodded, he continued : "Wizard ! There aren't many with that combat style in the Temple. Do you want to grab some food and then go spar ?"

Asajj glanced at her Master, who nodded slightly.

"Sure," she replied. "Having a training partner closer to my age should be interesting."

"Great ! I've tried to ask the acolytes to spar with me, but Obi-Wan doesn't want me to, and he's busy with political stuff, so we haven't had as much time to train as usual. Let's go !"

---

The three Jedi watched in bemusement as Anakin all but physically dragged the young woman away. Obi-Wan hadn't known what to expect when they had come across what really looked like another Jedi Knight and his Padawan aboard the Invincible, but it hadn't been that. Anakin had become a lot more outgoing and extroverted since reuniting with his mother on Perlia, which Obi-Wan had taken as a personal failure and something he would need to work on overcoming if he was to be half the teacher his own Master had been.

The troopers and crew already seated in the refectory looked at the young duo with patient amusement. Anakin was very popular among the Invincible's crew, for obvious reasons : Obi-Wan was fairly certain the cooks were slipping larger portions to his young Padawan, but since Anakin was still growing up and very physically active, the Knight hadn't said anything about it.

Choosing to ignore the fact that he felt like he could trust his Padawan to be safe aboard a Sith battleship, Obi-Wan turned his attention to the unknown Jedi who was still standing before Plo Koon and him.

"Well, it seems our students are getting along just fine," said Obi-Wan. "Greetings, brother. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"And I am Plo Koon," added the Kel Dor.

"Greetings, Master Plo Koon, Knight Kenobi. I am Ky Narec, Jedi Knight," the other human introduced himself with a slight bow. "And, as you heard, the girl your Padawan just dragged away is Asajj Ventress."

"Ky Narec … I know that name," mused Plo Koon, before snapping his fingers. "Right. You were sent on a mission to the Outer Rim, and never came back. The Order assumed you dead. I am glad to see we were wrong."

"That is me, yes. Knight Vail told me it was foolish to try to hide," Narec sighed. "That the Force would ensure we met before arriving to Rattatak. I should have trusted her instincts."

"She is aware of your presence here ?" asked Obi-Wan.

The Knight of the Old Republic was also aboard the Invincible, part of the Jedi complement who'd accompanied the Sith Lord to ensure no war crimes were committed on Rattatak, once they'd been informed the Hutts were apparently trying to recruit the world's population as soldiers to fight Darth Cain's forces.

"Oh, yes," Narec nodded. "Agent Malden, insisted I meet her after they were done debriefing me. Darth Cain himself apparently ordered it for some reason, and I wasn't going to ignore him."

"How exactly did you end up being debriefed by Darth Cain's chief intelligence operative ?" asked Obi-Wan.

Narec sighed. "It's a long story. Let's get some food and sit down first."

Soon, the three Jedi sat at one of the empty tables – the Invincible's crew took their meals in shift, meaning there was always plenty of space available – with their trays. Food aboard the Sith battleship was, if not exactly up to the standards of fine dining Coruscanti politicians might be used to, far better than Obi-Wan would have expected. He'd remarked on it during their trip to Savareen in a (mostly vain) attempt to lighten the mood as they rushed to Darth Cain's aid, and learned that the Lord of Terror himself had ordered the upgrades of the ship's kitchens despite the added expense. Apparently, well-fed soldiers fought better and were more disciplined.

"I never made it to my mission," began Narec as they ate. "My ship was shot down in the Rattataki system : pirates attacked me while I was calculating my next hyperspace jump. I am still not sure whether it was an attack of opportunity or a planned ambush : things were rather chaotic for a few moments. I barely made it to the surface, wounded but alive, thanks to the Force guiding me."

Once, Obi-Wan would have discarded the idea of a planned ambush out of hand. But now that he knew there was another Sith Lord operating in the Outer Rim, the whole thing took a more sinister aspect. If Sidious was based in the area, then him striking at any Jedi sent there made sense : by eliminating them through deniable intermediaries, he was minimizing the odds that one of them would stumble upon his activities.

After the Lord of Terror's revelations, Obi-Wan and Plo Koon had immediately called the Jedi Temple to inform the Council. The Order had known there was another Sith Lord in the galaxy since the Battle of Naboo : based on everything they knew of the Sith at the time, Darth Maul's existence indicated there was another one, though whether Master or apprentice had yet to be determined (Obi-Wan himself had leant toward the apprentice option, if for no other reason than he didn't think himself capable of defeating a true Sith Lord in single combat).

The Council had been sceptical of Darth Cain's claims at first, but Master Yoda had argued that they lost nothing by being prudent and assuming he was being truthful. Now that Perlia had seceded from the Republic, the Grand Master had said, the Lord of Terror didn't strictly need to justify sending his forces to another world which wasn't part of the Republic. In addition, while the victims of Varan's mind control in the Temple's infirmary were slowly recovering thanks to the Order's mind-healers, the damage they had suffered spoke of someone who had been trained in the blackest arts of the Dark Side, adding further credence to the theory of a Sith Lord based in the Outer Rim.

"The following years were … busy, to say the least." Narec's vision unfocused : Obi-Wan recognized that stare, and knew the other man was looking at things only he could see. "As you know, Rattatak was, and still is, a world ravaged by wars. Tribes and factions wage endless war against each other, caught in a cycle of violence so old, nobody remembers when and why it started."

"That's where you found your Padawan ?" asked Plo Koon.

Narec chuckled. "Actually, it would be more accurate to say that we found each other. Soon after the crash, I was attacked by local raiders, and met her while trying to escape them. Back then, she was a slave to another group of raiders, but when she saw me about to be killed, she instinctively used the Force to repel my attacker. I recognized her gift with the Force, freed her, and we escaped together into the wilderness, where I began teaching her."

"Not many people can do something like this without training," Obi-Wan noted. "Your Padawan is strong in the Force."

"That she is," Narec nodded with a proud smile. "Much stronger than I, even if she still needs more training – especially in keeping control of her emotions."

"I know exactly what you mean," said Obi-Wan, glancing at where Anakin and Asajj were now engaged in an enthusiastic discussion about the merits of different lightsaber fighting styles.

"Why did you not tell the Order of your survival ?" asked Plo Koon. "We thought you dead. Surely there were ways you could have contacted us from Rattatak, were they not ?"

"There were," Ky reluctantly admitted. "After the first few months, I had established enough of a foothold among the locals that I could have found a way to send a message off-world."

"Then why didn't you ?" pressed Obi-Wan.

"As I said, I took Asajj under my wing, taught her the ways of the Force. But by the time I met her, she was already too old to join the Order as a Padawan. Returning to the Order would have meant leaving her behind, and I couldn't do that to her."

"About that," began Obi-Wan. "Anakin was the same when my Master found him on Tatooine. I think the Council would have been understanding and made an exception."

"Even so, I … I have taken part in the wars of Rattataki, Knight Kenobi," Narec sighed. "I have fought alongside them, led them in battle. I have taken up the mantle of warlord. For years, Asajj and I have fought to put an end to the Rattataki wars. Progress was slow, but we were making inroads with a section of the Rattataki who'd grown tired of the ceaseless conflict. Perhaps we would have succeeded eventually, perhaps not, only the Force knows."

"But then the Hutts arrived," Obi-Wan realized. "You are the source of Darth Cain's intel !"

He cocked his head, curious : "Well, yes, of course. How else did you think he learned about the Hutts' presence on Rattatak ?"

"After Savareen, we stopped asking ourselves how the Lord of Terror knows what he knows," said Obi-Wan ruefully. "I assumed his spies told him, or he received a vision from the Force."

"Not in that case," said Narec. "It was my Padawan and I who told him, after making the decision to leave Rattatak rather than stand and fight a foe we couldn't hope to defeat on our own."

"You went to a Sith for help over the Order ?" Plo Koon asked neutrally.

"Yes," replied Narec, his back straightening. "My actions on Rattatak were, technically speaking, against Republican law, as well as the principles of the Order. And while the Jedi Order could have acted if the Hutts had come to enslave the population of Rattatak en masse before, with the ongoing conflict between the Cartels and the Cainite Sith, I expected the Order's hands to be tied. To be frank, I'm surprised by your presence aboard this ship as it is."

"We're here as observers, to ensure that Darth Cain and his followers don't fly off the handle and go back to the Sith Empire's practices," explained Obi-Wan while poking his food with his fork. "Darth Cain has been very accommodating, partly because he's busy with the Hutts and doesn't want to fight the Republic at the same time, partly because my Padawan fixed his ship's hyperdrive."

Although, truth be told, the former was more wishful thinking than anything else, regardless of what the official version of events might be on the Holonet. During their first meeting, Cain had been very clear about his bafflement regarding the Republic's current demilitarized status, and had all but outright stated that in its present state, the oldest galactic nation in existence would hardly present a proper challenge to his forces.

"Right, I heard about that," Narec nodded. "But, yes, we stole a ship and made our way to Perlia. We had some … adventures on the way, but we eventually arrived, and shared what we knew with Darth Cain. As soon as we told him, he began preparing this expedition. I must say," he added with a weak smile, "autocracy has many problems, but a lack of speed certainly isn't one of them."

"I think Darth Cain's regime can hardly be compared with the other petty tyrants of the Outer Rim," Obi-Wan protested half-jokingly. "Which is probably for the best where the Republic is concerned."

"Probably," Narec agreed. "Anyway, that's my story. After all that has happened, all that I have done, I do not feel like I can consider myself part of the Jedi Order.

"Leaving the Order is your right, though I think you should think more about it now that your life isn't constantly at risk," said Plo Koon. "Also, contrary to what you may think, you are hardly the first Jedi Knight to brush against darkness while away from the Temple. There are protocols in place to deal with such things and help you find your mental balance again – and as for young Asajj, I'm sure I could convince the rest of the Council to make an exception."

Especially when the alternative was potentially losing her to the Cainite Sith, Obi-Wan silently added.

"The choice is yours," continued Plo Koon. "But please, at least inform the Council in person of your decision so that they know what has happened. Until then, what are your immediate plans ?"

"Right now ?" Narec shrugged. "Help Darth Cain free Rattatak from the Hutts' influence any way I can. Asajj and I are going to help him link up with our allies planetside and establish contact in a peaceful manner so that they don't misunderstand this as another off-world tyrant coming to conquer their world."

After all that had happened in recent months, Obi-Wan was fairly sure the other Knight wouldn't be lying. But he wouldn't be surprised if, somehow, Rattatak ended up following the example of Tatooine and Savareen and joining the Lord of Terror's sphere of influence for protection.

"And afterwards ?" asked Plo Koon.

"Either stay on Rattatak and help deal with the clean-up and rebuilding of a proper, less violent society, or join the crusade against the Hutts. I haven't decided yet."

"Well, if you need help, or just want to talk about it, we'll be there," Obi-Wan reassured him. "And I suppose if you need advice on how to handle leaving the Jedi Order, you could always ask Count Dooku. He was my grandmaster before leaving the Order : I should be able to introduce you if you need it."

"I'll think about it," promised Narec.

---

I sat on my throne on the bridge of the Invincible as it flew through hyperspace toward the Rattatak system, the rest of our makeshift fleet following closely behind (although technically speaking, there was no such thing as 'behind' in hyperspace : they'd just jumped slightly after the flagship, since the Lord of Terror not leading from the front was unthinkable). We weren't in anything the Imperial Navy would have considered a proper formation, but when we emerged, every other ship would be within covering range of the Invincible's mighty guns, forming a loose sphere around the flagship.

In the final moments before we left hyperspace and I was forced to deal with another set of problems, I thought back to the most recent set that had been thrown my way by the Force. Specifically, the break-in of my vault on Perlia, and the sudden death of the lone survivor in custody.

It didn't take a genius to guess that Dooku was involved in the latter, and probably the former as well. There were only so many ways a group of aliens could have slipped past the Invincible's surveillance net and landed on Perlia, and the Count had received a delivery from his homeworld on the very same day as the ill-fated heist. Whether he had been the Force user I'd felt killing Bane, however, was still up in the air : someone else might have passed through our defensive lines and landed on Perlia undetected – kriff, for all I knew, they'd come along the team of bounty hunters as insurance, and were still on the planet ready to cause mischief.

I didn't have evidence of the Count's involvement beyond my own testimony that someone had used the Force to kill Bane, which no court in the galaxy which I didn't outright own would accept. Now, most Sith Lords in my position wouldn't have let that stop them from dragging Dooku out of his chambers and start throwing Force Lightning at him until he confessed everything, whether he had actually done it or not, but I liked to think I was more subtle than that. For one thing, such confessions were hardly trustworthy : people would say anything under torture to make the pain stop, as I knew all too well and had the scars to prove it.

But, more importantly, Dooku was an important political figure, with a reputation that was far better than mine, even with the best efforts of Malden's spooks to clean up my image in the eyes of the galaxy. If I did anything to him without iron-clad proof, it would torpedo all our work to keep the rest of the galaxy from teaming up to crush us.

And that wasn't taking into account the small fact that the man had once been the Padawan of the current kriffing Grand Master of the Jedi Order, who presumably still had a soft spot for him. I had no intention of finding out what an eight-hundred years old Jedi Master was capable of if provoked, even one who'd spent his time in office during a period of widespread peace (at least by the standards of my time).

If Sidious had learned of Dooku's turn to the Dark Side after leaving the Jedi Order, then recruiting him as an ally made sense. The Count's influence in the Outer Rim wasn't small, and had been growing steadily before my arrival had thrown the political situation of the region on its head. No Sith worth the name would have ignored such a potential threat and resource (the two, in my experience, often being one and the same for the kind of lunatics I'd been forced to associate myself with for most of my life). Securing some degree of influence of the Separatist Movement he was spearheading would only be good sense for a Sith whose power base was located in the Outer Rim.

Such an association would also explain why Dooku had been willing to come to Perlia in the first place. Jedi who turned to the Dark Side didn't suddenly become friendly with Sith : back in the bad old days, they'd often been among the Empire's most vicious opponents, willing to resort to any means they thought was necessary to defeat us. But if he'd already made business with a Sith before, and was pulling some kind of long-term infiltration, that would explain a great deal.

So I'd kept my suspicions to myself, and Dooku close by, where I could keep an eye on him, and where I could keep giving him more rope, until the moment I felt confident I could confront him without risking any backlash. I'd have to make sure to have JURG-N nearby when that happened, of course, but I felt reasonably confident in my ability to take on an elderly Human politician in a straight fight if it came to it.

Right now, I had given the Count nominal command of the fleet's auxiliaries, which combined the freedom fighters and Separatist forces willing to participate in our operation on Rattatak. After talking about it with Broklaw and Kasteen, I'd decided that not only would putting them under Dooku instead of directly in the Perlian chain of command keep him too busy to plot against me (not that I'd told my officers, as that was a sure-fire way to find Dooku mysteriously dead in his quarters, having shot himself in the back of the head with a blaster repeatedly), it was the most efficient course of action. Despite their willingness to fight alongside the Lord of Terror against the Hutts, the recently popularized legends of the Sith Empire had made many uncomfortable.

I was drawn out of my musings by the alarm klaxon announcing our imminent exit from hyperspace, and returned my focus to the here and now. The Jedi envoys – Amberley, Plo Koon, Kenobi and Skywalker – were all on the bridge too.

"All hands," Kasteen announced on the ship-wide comms, "brace for exit from hyperspace. Prepare for possible combat."

I tightened my hands around the armrests of my throne, and suddenly, the infinite swirl of energy that was hyperspace vanished from the deck's viewport, revealing the equally infinite blackness of space, lit only by distant stars and the much closer sun of the system.

In the distance, growing larger as the Invincible's engines fired up and propelled it forward, Rattatak itself wasn't anything to talk about, if I'm honest. But I was more worried about what was around the red-brown sphere.

Because while, according to Knight Narec, the Rattataki lacked any true spacecraft of their own, there was a large fleet orbiting the planet at the moment.

"The Hutt fleet is blockading the planet," called one of the bridge crew, while others reported that the rest of our own fleet had left hyperspace on schedule and was assuming the pre-planned formation. "They aren't moving toward us, nor do they appear to be reacting to our presence in any way."

Curious, and worrying. It meant that whoever was in charge had a plan, and enough of a hold on their subordinates to keep them from panicking when faced with the Invincible (which was far from an easy task even without me using the Force).

"Numbers ?" Kasteen asked with perfect poise, no doubt having reached the same conclusion.

"First returns indicate that they outnumber us five to one," replied the same officer. "But none of them seem to have anything which can penetrate the Invincible's shields."

"Remain vigilant," I reminded them. Much as I preferred not to walk on Kasteen's toes like this (she was a proper void commander, after all, and this was her domain), I wanted to curtail any risk of underestimating our foe. The Hutts hadn't held to power in the Outer Rim for millennia just through financing the political opponents of anyone who raised the issue of their crime empire in the Senate.

"Weapons hot," Kasteen ordered. "Maintain formation and continue approaching the planet until we get within holocall range, then full stop."

Time seemed to stretch as Rattatak grew larger and larger, the Invincible crossing the inconceivable large distance separating us from the warring world. Then the fleet stopped, and the bridge crew busied themselves with targeted scans of the Hutt vessels, calling out ship types and estimated armaments. I only half-listened, focused on reaching out with the Force to try and figure out what was going on. Unfortunately (or perhaps not), I had never been the best oracle among my Master's apprentices, and all I got was a vague sense of foreboding, which might just have been my innate paranoia – not that I needed it to know that there was something sinister afoot.

Eventually, my attempt at meditation was broken as Malden strode onto the bridge, followed by Narec and Ventress.

"We have made contact with Knight Narec's allies on Rattatak," my chief intelligence officer began after saluting. "According to them, the arrival of the Hutt fleet happened five days ago."

"So right after we left Perlia," I noted.

"Yes," agreed Malden. "Given the time it would have taken them to gather another fleet of this size after what you did to their last one, we believe the Cartels started planning this around the same time Knight Narec and his Padawan left the planet."

"There is something else, isn't there," I asked, a bad feeling beginning to gather in the pit of my stomach.

"The Hutts …" My bad feeling spiked in intensity as I watched Malden, who had faced almost everything since our jump forward in time with cool, professional detachment, hesitate. Then he took a deep breath, and forced himself to continue : "My lord, the Hutts have captured the children of many of the warlords who didn't accept their offer, and are holding them hostage in order to compel their obedience."

Children.

The Hutts had taken children.

Images rose from the depths of my memory unbidden, rendered vague as nightmare by time and torment. Giant hands reaching out from the darkness and plucking me from my hiding place. Faces, smiling and hollow, carrying me away, ignoring my screams and kicks. Pain, made all the sharper by being as inescapable as it was undeserved. The quiet weeping of a hundred other young sentients as we huddled together in the dark, before our tormentor came to take another victim. The wretched, hateful relief when he left with someone else this time …

"Cain !" A familiar voice roared through the darkness, and I clung to it like a drowning man to a piece of wood. "Cain ! Dammit, Ciaphas, listen to me ! You need to stop this !"

I blinked, and I was back on the bridge of the Invincible. There was frost on every surface, from the metallic floor to the ceiling, including the viewport. The crew were shivering, slapping themselves to get the coating of ice crystals off their uniforms and very carefully not looking in my direction.

By contrast, the Jedi were staring at me with wide eyes, while Amberley was holding both my forearms tightly, having crossed the bridge to stand right next to my command throne while I was blacking out. Her face was creased with concern as she stared at me, and I took a deep, shuddering breath as I forced my abject terror back under control. JURG-N hovered nearby, his chassis covered in sheets of ice that broke as he moved, unsure what to do as I was struck by an enemy he had no way to kill for me.

"Thank you, Knight Vail," I told her with utmost sincerity. She let go of my arms, and I turned to the rest of the bridge as she walked back to the other Jedi : "My apologies for this unseemly loss of control, everyone. I had not expected the Hutts to sink so low, which I now realize was folly on my part. The slugs have certainly already proven that they have no compunction against using children to get their way."

I let my eyes briefly flicker to Skywalker as I spoke. As I had expected, the prodigy Padawan looked visibly furious. Everyone followed my gaze, ensuring that they all thought my panic attack had been nothing of the sort, but a brief bout of uncontrolled fury breaking through the mask of calm that Darth Cain projected at all time. And Amberley, who had more practice dealing with me than any other Force user, had intervened just in time to keep me from doing something foolish while lost to anger.

No doubt the modern Jedi would have questions for her later, but I trusted her to handle them without revealing too much of our relationship. And, accordingly, I would have to deal with the same questions from the acolytes who had witnessed the scene, though they would be much more careful about it.

"My lord," said Kasteen (who, if she suffered from the sudden cold at all, showed no sign of it whatsoever). "We are being hailed by the Hutt fleet."

Of course we were. I took a deep breath and prepared myself. No matter the alien's taunts, I couldn't afford myself to lose control like that again. One slip was permissible, but a second might be seen as weakness.

"Open the link," I said.

A holo-projection of a Hutt appeared on the bridge. To a Human, recognizing one Hutt from another was always a challenge, but this particular specimen had a certain energy to him I had rarely encountered in his species. It seemed the Cartels had decided that putting those of their kindred who owned their positions solely to nepotism in charge of the war effort was a bad idea after all. A shame : I would take fighting an incompetent enemy over a competent one any day of the week, no matter what I might say about the need to constantly challenge oneself in public.

"Hello, Darth Cain," said the Hutt. "I am Fulcher, representative of the Cartels' interests in this system."

"I would say it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," I replied calmly, "but I hold myself above such transparent lies."

The Hutt chuckled, making the rolls of fat covering his body juggle in a thoroughly disgusting manner.

"Oh, you're an amusing one. By now, you have probably heard of our … insurance policy, yes ?"

"I have," I replied, keeping an iron grip on my emotions. "What of it ?"

"In the interests of keeping our conflict here from laying waste to the very resources we both covet, I believe we can resolve our dispute in the traditional Rattataki manner : battle," the slug said, still infuriatingly smug. "There is a place on this world dedicated to ceremonial conflicts between tribes. Your allies know of it, I'm sure. I propose that you and your Legion come down here to face against our own forces, while our ships remain on the other side of the planet so there's no interference from orbit. A good, clean fight, far from any locals who might be caught in the crossfire. If you win, we'll leave the system peacefully, and even return our insurance. If we win … well, you will be dead, so it won't be your problem anymore, will it ?"

"And if I refuse to play your games, and instead order the Invincible to blast your pitiful excuse for a fleet out of the skies of Rattatak ?" I asked.

"Then we'll have to use our insurance," he replied, still supremely unworried. "And I don't think you want that, not with the Jedi keeping such a close eye on you."

I closed my eyes, aware of the many gazes directed toward me.

"Very well," I said after a moment. "Send the coordinates for this little … game of yours. My fleet won't engage yours until this is done and you have honored our agreement. But, Fulcher ?"

"Yes ?"

I snapped my eyes open, and glared at the holographic projection of the slug, shaping my expression to show the wrath he and everyone else were expecting from me.

"When this is over, run. Run far and fast, and do not stop, for neither shall I."

He gulped, his façade of control cracking at last. "I'll … take that into consideration. Oh, and leave your apprentice aboard your ship. She will pay for the murder of the great Jabba another day."

The communication ended. In the silence that followed, I considered my options, weighing the danger of each course of action available to me. Then I turned toward the four Jedi and two Padawans (Narec and Ventress had joined the others, the Knight's apparent distance from the Order forgotten in the face of my apparent fury) :

"Master Jedi," I said to Plo Koon. "I know that the Order assigned you to accompany me as emissaries and observers, not to participate in a Sith campaign. But I do believe rescuing children from criminals and returning them to their parents falls under your purview, does it not ?"

"It does," replied the Kel Dor cautiously. "What do you have in mind ?"

"I cannot let such a challenge go unanswered," I said, gesturing at the world through the bridge's viewport, which was being cleaned of ice by maintenance droids. "But I don't trust that Hutt to keep his word when I crush whatever pathetic trap he has laid down on Rattatak."

"That does seem unlikely, yes," Plo Koon reluctantly agreed. "Far more likely, he will continue to use them as hostages in order to escape this system without being destroyed by your fleet."

"At which point they will still be in the hands of the Cartels, which is unacceptable for either of us," I continued. "And so, as was done before in times like these during the Great Galactic Wars, I ask for the Order's assistance, for a single joint operation against a common foe. Do you accept ?"

"Yes," replied the Jedi Master. To his credit, he didn't hesitate. "Such a crime cannot go unanswered. But we will need assistance, and information."

"Of course," I nodded. "I don't expect you to do this alone; my honor wouldn't allow it in any case. My acolytes will assist you, along with a crack team of our best troops. Iskandar, Nefertari, you will accompany our guests on this mission. I expect you to cooperate with them fully, is that understood ?"

They both saluted, Nefertari's usual sass silenced by my recent display of power.

"Commander Sulla," I turned toward the Mandalorian leader, "your people are best suited for this kind of operation. Select a few of your best."

She nodded sharply. I could feel the cold anger coiling inside her : Sulla's opinions on involving children in conflicts was not so different from what I expected the Jedi's to be, as she and her warriors had always been part of that faction of the Mandalorians whose particular brand of martial insanity valued honor above glory.

"Malden," I finished, returning to the intelligence officer, who flinched as my gaze fell upon him. "Find out where the children are being detained, whether they are aboard one of the Hutt ships or on the planet still. I am putting you in charge of the preparations for this operation while I go and deal with this slug's little challenge; I expect to find the children safe and sound by the time I return."

"Yes, my lord !" He saluted, and walked out of the room, followed by everyone I had assigned to deal with this particular mess.

The Jedi looked back at me for a few seconds, before their instincts as protectors of the innocent overrode whatever compulsion they felt to keep an eye on me. Amberley's gaze lingered for a few seconds longer : no doubt she was worried about me having another panic attack without her being present to help. I wished there was anything I could do or say to allay these worries : Force knew I shared them. But this was the best option, and we both knew it.

I didn't like removing people from between myself and the enemy, but it was necessary in this case. If the Rattataki warlords thought I'd let their children get killed, they would resent me and might join the Hutts out of sheer spite, or at least try to kill me independently – not the most rational course of action, but in my experience people got weird when their progeny was involved.

"Commander Broklaw," I called out once the bridge's doors had closed behind them, "prepare the Legion for planetfall."

"My lord, you know it's a trap," said the Commander bluntly.

I laughed, putting as much derision into the sound as I could to mask the hysteria that was building up inside my chest.

"Of course it is. The Hutts know they cannot face us in a straight fight." I smiled savagely. "But so what ? Let them try their best. Let them go as low as they possibly can, thinking it gives them an advantage over us. We will crush their pathetic little trap, whatever it is, and the magnitude of their failure shall serve as a distraction for our friends to rescue the children of this world's leaders, earning us their trust and gratitude in the process."

As my impromptu speech concluded, I had the rapturous attention of everyone on the bridge. After so many years of leading armies into deadly peril I couldn't find a good reason to avoid, I could have done it in my sleep.

"Commodore Kasteen, scan the coordinates and send the data to Commander Broklaw. Commander, study the terrain, and prepare for any dirty trick you can think of. I intend to win this, ladies and gentlemen, and teach this miserable slug a lesson the rest of his clan won't forget."

"Yes, my lord !" both officers saluted, and immediately went to do as I'd asked.

I stood up from my throne. "I'll be in my quarters preparing for planetfall," I announced, walking out of the bridge, JURG-N following at my heel. "Contact me once everything is ready."

Hopefully, by then I would have managed to calm down enough to charge straight into combat once more.

Notes:

AN : Happy May the 4th, everybody ! Today marks the one-year anniversary of this story. I hope you are all enjoying this tale of Ciaphas Cain fixing the SW universe through cowardice, imposter syndrome, and the raw, unrelenting power of his own fear.

I had not planned Cain's panic attack in this chapter. It just happened when I got to that part. Also, if you think his justification for sending his best people to help free the children while he has to go face whatever Fulcher has planned is particularly weak, you are correct, and I will let you draw your own conclusions from that fact.

And a friendly reminder that while the Hutts are objectively better people than Erebus, that bar is so low you would need to dig underneath the infernal city of Pandaemonium and into the frozen, lightless layer of the Tenth Hell to find it.

(Congratulations to anyone who got that reference.)

As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts, comments and theories.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 18: Ghosts

In the end, it took less than an hour for Malden to find out where the hostages were located. Amberley wasn't surprised : she'd tangled with the Chiss several times before her relationship with Cain had … evolved, so to speak, and she knew his skills better than anyone in the galaxy, except his employer.

The communications of the Hutt mercenaries were encrypted, but it didn't take long for the Imperials to break the cypher. After that, it'd turned out that, to keep the Rattataki from attempting a rescue of their own (which the warrior people would surely have tried if their children had been within reach), the hostages had been brought aboard Fulcher's own ship, the Ironfound. Normally, infiltrating a Hutt ship in the middle of a fleet on a high alert would have been difficult to say the least.

But among the many wonderful, deadly, and definitely illegal under current Republican law things that could be found within the holds of the Invincible was a top-of-the-line Imperial stealth transport, which Ciaphas had acquired in circumstances he still refused to tell her about (which she was fairly certain meant one of his early feminine conquests had been involved). According to the technical experts they'd consulted, sensors hadn't changed much since then, and the stealth systems should still be enough to fly in undetected.

They had a map of the Ironfound from the Invincible's scanners. Tracking down the exact location of the hostages aboard the ship had been more difficult, but once Malden's team had cracked the cyphers on the Cartel communications, it had only been a matter of minutes – it seemed that whatever Fulcher was paying these mercenaries, it wasn't enough to buy good comms discipline.

Amberley was sitting in the back of the transport, surrounded by the rest of the rescue team. The Jedi (and whatever he might think about himself, Ky Narec was still a Jedi at heart) were sitting closest to the command bridge; then Sulla and her four chosen Mandalorian warriors, who were still checking their weapons, despite having done so several times already.

Further down the space were the Sith. Iskandar and Nefertari, the most powerful of Ciaphas' acolytes, had volunteered for the mission, though Amberley suspected that was more out of pride (Darth Cain, after all, had ordered the best of his people to go) than worry for the children. Next to them was the scarred figure of Nux, who was staring into nothingness with the usual detached smile he wore when not fighting. Despite his mental instability, the acolyte had been added to the task force by virtue of being a Rattataki himself. Though he'd never been to the planet himself (or if he had, he no longer remembered it), the presence of a member of their race might help calm the children down, and on balance, Malden had decided it was worth the risk.

"So," asked Obi-Wan awkwardly as they flew through the void and toward their destination. "'Ciaphas' ? Would you mind explaining that to us, Knight Vail ?"

Amberley sighed. She'd known this was coming the moment the word had left her mouth back on the Invincible's bridge. It had slipped through before she'd even realized it. Given it'd worked in calming Ciaphas down, she didn't regret it, but it was something that needed to be addressed as soon as possible to avoid complications further down the line.

"It's Darth Cain's name," she replied bluntly. "The one he had before the Emperor renamed him Darth Cain and set him loose on his enemies. I don't know his family name – I don't think he remembers it himself, truth be told."

"How did you learn it ?" asked Plo Koon.

"With a great deal of effort," she replied bluntly. Which was true, though probably not the kind of effort the others were thinking. Ciaphas had revealed that titbit only after years of their association, and at the time, she had taken it as the unprecedented gesture of trust it had been, and treasured it accordingly.

"I thought hearing it might shock him out of his fugue before he destroyed the bridge and killed us all," she continued, choosing her words carefully.

She had no desire to outright lie to her fellow Jedi, especially since they were likely to catch any intention to deceive them through the Force. Instead, she wasn't lying to them : she was merely keeping some things from them which they didn't need to know.

They probably suspected there was more to it than that, but they wouldn't push, not now. The rescue of innocents from the claws of the Hutts was far more important than any secret Amberley might be hiding. And when the questions returned later, well, at worst Amberley would have to rely on Yoda for help.

The Grand Master was the only Jedi aware of the full extent of her relationship with Ciaphas (and she really needed to tell her lover about that at some point), and had seemed to approve of it, so long as Amberley remembered it was her job to help Ciaphas break free of the darkness he'd been forced into as a child, rather than let him drag her into it as well.

"Well, I'm glad you did," said Anakin, smiling innocently. "That was really scary."

"That it was, young Padawan," said Amberley with a smile of her own. "The Hutts have no idea what it is they've done by provoking Darth Cain this way."

Silence returned. For a time, it was broken only by the quiet purring of the craft's engines as it crossed the void, until Sulla spoke up :

"Kenobi."

"Yes ?" answered the Jedi.

"I've noticed you looking at my armor. Why is that ?"

There was a slight hint of challenge in the Mandalorian's voice, but Amberley was certain she wouldn't ask for a duel right now regardless of the answer. For all the now-ancient Mandalorian culture she championed, Sulla was among the sanest warchiefs that Amberley had ever met.

"Oh, yes," the Human man admitted. "My apologies, I couldn't help it. It's quite interesting to see the differences between its design and that of modern Mandalorians. Or rather, the almost complete lack of differences."

"Oh ?" The warchief stirred in her seat. The other warriors were paying attention too, though their hands were still going through the routine maintenance checks. "You've met our descendants ?"

"I have," replied Obi-Wan, sounding more cautious now. "Back during the last civil war on Mandalore, my Master and I helped protect the daughter of the Kryze House from the chaos."

Anakin, Amberley noted wryly, was listening very closely to his Master's words, eyes shining with curiosity. Nearby, Asajj did the same, while even Plo Koon and Narec watched with interest.

"You know, one of the first things I did once Perlia's connection to the Holonet was to look up what had happened to the Mandalorians since our time," said Sulla conversationally. "I could hardly believe what I read."

"I imagine the current pacifism of their regime was something of a shock, yes," said Obi-Wan drily.

"It was," Sulla confirmed. "I was eventually reminded that change is inevitable, even desirable, especially over thousands of years. Once this battle is over, though, I think I'll ask Darth Cain permission to take some leave so I can go visit Mandalore in person."

Well, that was something to look forward to, thought Amberley. Preferably from a safe distance.

"I'm sure the New Mandalorians will be honored to receive you," Obi-Wan said diplomatically.

"We are on final approach," the voice of their pilot sounded over the speakers, dragging everyone back to their mission. "All hands, prepare for landing."

Four Jedi, two Padawans, three Sith acolytes and five Mandalorian warriors. It was enough to make Amberley feel almost sorry for the Hutt enforcers.

Only almost, though. They shouldn't have taken children hostages, and they shouldn't have used it to try to hurt Ciaphas. Whatever happened on the planet below while she was up here, Amberley hoped it wouldn't set back his progress away from the clutches of the Sith Empire.

---

The Legion landed on Rattatak aboard Imperial transports, following descent protocols that had first been written down by the legendary Grand Moff Odile Vaiken founder of the Imperial Army. Some of those crafts had brought soldiers to Molech, Alderaan, and countless other battlefields of the Great Galactic Wars, while others had been recently assembled on the Invincible's internal factories.

They disembarked in good order the moment the transports touched the ground, immediately setting up a perimeter while the vehicles were brought out. The area the Hutt kriffer had designed for this trap was a shithole, with nothing but dry, dead, wind-swept earth as far as the eye could see, along with craters and rusted pieces of metal from who knew how many battles had been fought here over the ages.

Broklaw was inside the second transport to land : the first was reserved for Darth Cain himself, and procedure prevented the Commander from flying in the same ship as the Lord of Terror, to prevent a decapitation strike. Not that shooting down Cain's transport would keep him down : several of his enemies had tried that tactic before, and all it had achieved was making him angry once he dug his way out of the crash site, often behind enemy lines.

The Commander strode down the boarding ramp right behind his escort squad, and went straight for Darth Cain. The acolytes were standing in a loose circle around the Sith Lord and JURG-N, keeping their distance and looking pale. They nodded at Broklaw as he and his command staff approached, and the Imperial Commander felt a twinge of sympathy for them : being stuck in the same transport as Darth Cain in his current mood couldn't have been pleasant.

The only time Broklaw could remember seeing the Lord of Terror as furious as when Malden had informed him of the Hutts' gambit had been during the assault on Molech. More than one member of the bridge crew had needed to discreetly depart his post in the aftermath of Darth Cain's rage to clean themselves up and change into a fresh uniform, and while it wasn't a frequent occurrence, nobody was going to blame or mock them for it. Force knew Broklaw himself had only barely managed to keep himself together.

"Commander," Darth Cain greeted Broklaw with a nod, to which he responded with a sharp Imperial salute.

"We are detecting energy signatures approaching from all directions," an officer holding a scanner announced. "They seem to be droids."

Broklaw snorted. "Of course they are. After Savareen, the Hutts would be idiot to send flesh-and-blood folks against our lord."

Which might make one question what they were doing trying to recruit the locals in the first place, but even Darth Cain could only be in one place at a time (something the Republic had no doubt been deeply grateful for back during the First Great Galactic War). Having an army of blaster fodder they could throw at Tatooine and Savareen simultaneously would be useful, to say nothing of shoring up their other holdings, since Broklaw had no doubt they were going to strike further afield in the future.

"What kind of droids ?" asked Darth Cain.

"I am not sure," the officer admitted. "Their energy signatures don't match anything in our database."

"I assume it has been updated to include modern droids ?" asked the Lord of Terror.

"Of course, my lord !" the officer replied immediately, nodding vigorously. "We updated our databases as soon as Perlia was reconnected to the Holonet. But still, nothing. They're standard size for infantry models, with about the same kind of energy level we'd expect from a standard Imperial combat droid, but the exact model is unknown to us."

"Then they must be some kind of Hutt secret weapon," decided Darth Cain. "We will have to – hold on."

He frowned, and Broklaw immediately drew his sidearm, along with everyone nearby. The acolytes had already activated their lightsabers, clearly sensing whatever it was which had disturbed Darth Cain as well.

Broklaw didn't have to wait for long. Suddenly, skeletal hands burst from the ground, followed by arms, and then torsos topped by grinning skulls whose eye sockets glowed with green balefire. Broklaw reacted on instinct, shooting the nearest creature in the head with his blaster. Its skull was pulverized, and it fell, the sorcery which had animated it dispelled most effectively.

He turned just in time to see Darth Cain cut through a swarm of the undead with his lightsaber, his droid calmly striding near him, blasting more of the fiends with his wide array of weaponry.

"Necromancy," the Lord of Terror hissed in displeasure once they had cleared their immediate surroundings. Already, more were coming, but the troopers and acolytes nearby looked to have things in hand for now. "I haven't crossed paths with anyone foolish enough to dabble in it since Darth W'soran."

Broklaw suppressed a shiver at the memory. That had been a particularly bad few weeks of battle, ending with Darth Cain cutting the other Sith Lord into so many pieces even the madman hadn't been able to piece himself together. They had spent weeks scouring W'soran's citadel to make sure they got all of his relics, artefacts and Holocrons, and the ones which couldn't be destroyed were even now imprisoned ('locked away' didn't seem the right term for such foul relics) in the vault beneath the Sith Temple on Perlia.

"Given that we're standing on a battlefield that's been used for hundreds if not thousands of years, this might be a problem, lord," he remarked aloud, before bringing a hand to his ear, where his comm-piece was relaying a deluge of voices directly into his skull. "I am getting reports that these reanimations are taking place all around us, and they likely outnumber us severely."

"Indeed," replied Darth Cain, who took a deep breath, his eyes closed. "I can feel the sorcery stretching across the battlefield, seeping into the ravaged earth and seeking those who met their end here, to drag them up and compel them to fight once more. Tell the soldiers to close ranks, Commander. The enemy seeks to distract us with these undead so that their droid host can do more than die to our blades and blasters."

"What about the necromancer ?" asked Broklaw. "I didn't know the Hutts had Force users."

"They didn't," said Darth Cain grimly. "I'm assuming Sidious provided them with one, unless he's here in person, but I doubt we're that lucky. No, this feels like the work of many hands working together. A cult of weaker Force users, trained in the dark arts and well versed in collective action, but lacking the power to threaten a true Sith."

"Droids and the dead," Broklaw mused, even as gestured for his aides to relay Darth Cain's orders to the rest of the Legion "I can see how someone might think they would fare better against you than living troops."

"Then we shall have to teach them the error of that way of thinking," said Darth Cain.

Despite the situation, Broklaw couldn't help but chuckle. The Hutts were hardly the first to think that fleshless, fearless combatants were the perfect counter to the Lord of Terror's might. And, soon, they would learn the same lesson as all their predecessors.

---

NEME-61S was ancient. To the average sentient, it would have cut quite the intimidating figure : it was two meters tall, bulky, and bristling with various weapons.

Once, it had been part of the army of an Outer Rim warlord who had run afoul of the Hutts, only to be killed and all his assets seized by the Cartels, his name wiped out from historical records as one final insult. Thanks to select mind-wiping, even NEME-61S didn't remember it, only that the warlord had existed. For centuries afterwards, it had stood immobile and deactivated, a statue on the crownworlds of the Hutts. Then, weeks ago, it had been reactivated. Sweet, life-giving power had flowed through its circuits and kindled its processors.

The workers who'd reactivated it had been directed by a Hutt who had input the correct command codes into NEME-61S, before designating himself as Marlo the Hutt, the ultimate authority to which NEME-61S and its brethren would answer from that point forward. More data had then been uploaded into its processor, updating its knowledge of weapons and technology with what it needed to be effective. Then, NEME-61S and thousands of its brethren had been moved off-world, and put under the command of another Hutt named Fulcher.

They had received yet more data. The Hutts had a mission for the reactivated droids : they were facing an enemy of great power, one who had already won several victories against the mercenaries the Cartels typically used to enforce their will in the Outer Rim. Apparently, this enemy was led by a Force user with the ability to cause crippling fear in the minds of organics. As a droid, NEME-61S was immune to such things.

It had never fought against Force users in the past, but had been informed that such sentients still died if you shot them enough times. Had NEME-61S possessed a more advanced processor, it might have felt something approaching trepidation at the notion of fighting warriors possessing such supernatural powers. But the hardware hosting the collection of protocols and sub-routines which made up its mind was as ancient as the rest of it, and lacked the capability for such useless sentiment.

The order to advance cascaded down the command network, and NEME-61S obeyed, along with thousands of its brethren. Across the wasteland, it could detect numerous lifeforms and the transports which had brought them down.

The hostiles – identification : Sith troopers – were already engaged in combat when the droids reached weapon's range, by what looked like moving corpses. The animated corpses weren't enemies : NEME-61S' combat routines had been updated before the battle specifically so it wouldn't consider them as such. It ignored them and instead focused on the armored troopers who were engaging the undead.

Within seconds of opening fire, it detected a humming sound which registered in its processor as the noise of a lightsaber. It turned toward the source of the sound, ready to open fire and neutralize the threat to its masters.

Instead, it went blind; or at least, that is how an organic would have described it. Its targeting software babbled a long string of errors, unable to make sense of what its sensors were perceiving. The errors cascaded into the rest of its sub-routines, rendering it unable to move.

NEME-61S was still trying to make sense of what was happening when a blade of crimson energy cut through its processor, and its mind, which had slept for so very long, fell into darkness for the final time.

---

I sliced through the droids, moving as fast as I could while making sure JURG-N wouldn't fall too far behind me. Even at full power, his Null Field only covered an area of less than a hundred meters radius, but as long as we kept moving, the droids couldn't react properly, especially since those models looked older than I was.

The Null Field was what made JURG-N more than just another example of how far the Sith Empire had pushed the art of designing killing machines. When it was turned on, all advanced technology around him failed, as it fed their sensors with a deluge of garbage data. We actually needed to keep Cyborgs away from him when he needed to use it, as few of them could survive their implants suddenly shutting down.

It wasn't very useful for stealth : even the most dim-witted guard would notice when a surveillance system started returning nothing but static. But it complemented my own talents wonderfully, and over the years I'd been grateful for its existence more time than I cared to count. Now, faced with the ancient droids the Hutts had dug out from who knew there, it was once again proving that whatever else might be said about JURG-N's creators, they had certainly known their craft.

As I cut down reanimated corpses and droids, my paranoia kept insisting that this was too easy. JURG-N's Null Field was one of his less-known capabilities, but I refused to believe the Hutts were foolish enough to think they could simply drown me with mere combat droids and undead corpses. The dead's weapons had long since rusted away to little more than clubs, and after fighting them, it seemed the droids weren't some secret weapon of the Cartels but rather a bunch of antiques that belonged in a museum rather than a battlefield.

A singular Force user could be overwhelmed through sheer numbers, yes, but I had an entire army of trained killers at my back, even if my reputation demanded that I fight at the vanguard. And while the environment didn't suit itself to unleashing another sandstorm like Iskandar had done on Savareen, there were other Force rituals I knew which could inflict wide-scale destruction.

There had to be something more going on here, something I wasn't seeing yet. And in this, of course, I was entirely correct.

It happened after I'd used the Force to send a bunch of dessicated corpses flying with enough strength that they exploded into dust and bone shards when they hit the ground. My lizard brain noticed something – a small, nearly imperceptible shimmer in the air, which by now was getting filled with dust. I struck reflexively, instinct moving my hand before conscious thought could direct the blow. The crimson blade of my lightsaber cut through the air before slamming to a stop as it hit something. In a brief flash of light, I caught a glimpse of a primitive-looking blade, etched with sigils which glowed the same green as the undead.

The strength of the impact was enough to make my assailant stumble backward. The brief instant was enough to let me get my first look at them, but I saw little : they were shrouded in some kind of optical camouflage. Like all such technology, it was imperfect, light wrapping around the outlines of their silhouette (which I thought seemed feminine, not that it changed anything) like a mirage on a hot day.

"You think you can hide from me ?" I roared, playing the part of the Sith Lord, hoping their fear would make them easier to detect. "Fool ! I am Darth Cain !"

The good news was, it worked. Whoever they were, they had some degree of Force sensibility, and the spark of their consciousness shone in my mind's eye with fear, though they controlled it with a level of discipline I would usually have found admirable, but which I really disliked in people who wanted to kill me.

The bad news was, I suddenly detected several other such sparks all around, with more in the distance, all converging on me with alarming speed. Even worse, they were all Force users, though none of them were of the level I'd expect from a Sith or a Jedi (even one of the current era, who hadn't been pushed to the limits of their potential by endless conflict).

"JURG-N !" I barked. "Give us a ring of fire !"

Bless him, my aide didn't pause to ask whether I'd lost my mind. Activating a flamethrower, he twisted his torso, unleashing a stream of burning liquid that soon formed a barrier around us. I felt the hesitation of my assassins, and then, almost immediately, a spike of determination as they jumped through the flames, which clung to their forms and caused their camouflage to break.

My assailants were covered from head to toe in some manner of tribal dress I didn't recognize, and holding the same kind of rune-marked blades as the first attacker. As I examined them, I felt another, distant presence, linked to each and everyone of them by ties of allegiance and sorcery, compelling them forward despite any perfectly reasonable doubt they might have felt.

"Is that you I feel, Sidious ?" I said as I weaved my lightsaber into an elaborate parry, more for intimidation purposes than anything else. "Sending assassins after me, are you ? Too afraid to face me yourself, is that it ?"

"No," an old voice whispered from a dozen directions at once. "We will never serve the Sith, Lord of Terror. That is why you must die !"

That was a sentiment I could understand all too well. Frankly, I'd been shocked by how many sentients had been willing to join us against the Hutts, despite the well-earned reputation of my people. If the voice was speaking the truth (not that I was the kind of fool to believe ominous whispers without hard evidence), then they no doubt had excellent reasons to want to prevent the resurgence of the Sith Empire in the galaxy. Unfortunately, they – whoever they were – had decided to align themselves with the Hutts to do so, and more importantly, they wanted to kill me.

"Better sorcerers than you have tried," I boasted. "You will have no more success than they did !"

"We shall see," whispered the voice. "Attack, Sisters !"

And with that, there was no more time for words, as JURG-N and I were forced to defend ourselves from an attack on all sides.

---

Asajj followed the older warriors as they made their way through the Ironfound, dodging patrols and surveillance devices on their way to where the children were being held. Though the environment was different, she'd learned to move stealthily early in her life on Rattatak, and had sharpened those skills once she'd joined Ky and they'd begun their guerrilla campaign against the planet's warlords. The rest of the group were all also very talented : Anakin and Nefertari in particular moved with the same smooth grace as her.

In addition, the guards were far too relaxed for their own good. They knew Darth Cain was fighting planetside, and with the children held hostage, they were confident the Lord of Terror wouldn't unleash his power on them. Dodging their patrols was easy, even with their numbers. Several times, the Jedi had to stop the Sith and Mandalorians from striking, silently reminding their allies that rescuing the children was the priority.

They were advancing through yet another dirty corridor when Asajj's field of vision suddenly narrowed. She stumbled, her balance lost. Her vision was swimming : she was still seeing the corridor, but also a small, circular room, full of green smoke.

"Asajj ?" She heard her Master call out, but his voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. "What's wrong ?"

She couldn't answer. She could barely move; it was cold, so cold, and she could feel a presence all around her, pressing down on her. A voice echoed into her head, insistent and maddeningly familiar, even though she didn't recognize from where.

Sister ? Daughter ?

Who are you ? What are you doing here ?

"Get out of my head !" Asajj roared, putting all her strength in the words, and the presence recoiled in shock.

She blinked, and as her vision cleared, she saw that she was back aboard the Ironfound, with a worried-looking Ky holding her shoulders and half of the party staring at her while the rest kept watch.

"Asajj ?" asked her Master. "Are you okay ?"

"I, I think so," she said. "I saw … I saw a weird place, and I heard someone talking …"

"Someone tried to attack her mind," said Iskandar. The red-skinned Sith sounded grim. "I've seen it before. She must have been targeted because she's the youngest of us." He glanced to the side, and added : "Except for Padawan Skywalker, but I don't think even whatever backwater Force user the Hutts managed to find is dumb enough to meddle with him."

Asajj would have been pissed off by the comment, but she'd sensed Anakin's strength in the Force while they'd trained aboard the Invincible, and she was forced to agree. The only person with the same degree of power she'd ever encountered was Lady Vaylin, who was supposedly even more powerful than Darth Cain.

"Then we need to move faster," said Knight Vail, equally grim. "They will know we are here and will sound the alarm any second."

As if summoned by her words, the unmistakeable noise of alarms began to blare, along with someone on the internal comms system speaking urgently in what Asajj was pretty sure was Huttese.

"Don't worry, Asajj," said Anakin with a grin. "This was always going to get loud at some point."

Notes:

AN : Sorry about the long wait (well, long for this story, as readers of the Roboutian Heresy can attest). I started playing Clair Obscure Expedition 33, and believe it or not, that game isn't exactly conductive to writing light-hearted comedy.

(Also, I think it says something about me that, upon finishing the Prologue, my first thought (once I'd stopped crying like a baby, because HOLY FRAK) was imagining Cain screaming at me "No, you are NOT sending me into that beautiful, colorful dystopian hellscape. You don't even know what's going on !".)

Yes, JURG-N can mess with any advanced piece of tech near him. It was the closest I could come to reproducing his blank status from canon without making him some kind of Force-void, which would make his relationship with Cain a tad more complicated.

And as you might have deduced from the last scene, Asajj's canon destiny has been thoroughly derailed by this point. And I'm sure Sulla's eventual visit to Mandalore won't cause any more headaches for our dear Lord of Terror.

The next chapter contains a scene I've had in mind for ... months, now. Initially, it was planned for later in this story, but the Muse demanded it be brought forward, and who am I to refuse her ?

As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts and comments.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 19: Liberation

As a rule, Nefertari didn't care for children. They were small, noisy, dirty things, always running around and getting themselves and others into trouble. She knew from her childhood on Nar Shadda that they could be just as violent, vicious and cruel as adults, and she'd done her best to stay away from them after escaping the Academy on Korriban.

And yet. And yet.

Right now, she felt rage, hot and burning, like she had only felt before on a handful of occasions in her life. It had been growing inside her since that Hutt vermin had dared to threaten the Lord of Terror, but had been cowed by the display of Darth Cain's own fury and the need to prepare for the mission their lord had given them. Now, however, there was nothing to hold it back, and it blazed through her body. She didn't understand where it was coming from; or perhaps, she refused to admit it to herself.

Regardless, she wasn't shy about unleashing her wrath now, for she was Sith, and through passion, she gained strength.

Since Asajj had been attacked, they had discarded stealth. The enemy knew they were here : shock and awe were their tools now, and the Sith acolytes were exceedingly good at using them. Grudgingly, she had to acknowledge that the Jedi weren't bad at it either, and the less said about the Mandalorians' talent for mayhem, the better.

According to Malden's briefing, after learning that the Invincible had left Perlia and Darth Cain was on his way, Fulcher had withdrawn the mercenaries he'd used to seize control of Rattatak back to his ship. The Ironfound was fitted with several recreational decks, and the brutes had spent the last few days enjoying the free drink and food provided by their employers – until the Sith had arrived, at which point the alcohol and xenos-equivalents had stopped flowing and everyone had been ordered to be ready for action.

Which meant that the Hutt crime lord had hundreds, if not thousands of violent killers to throw at the boarding party. And Fulcher was throwing every single one of them at the boarders, probably terrified out of his mind of what Darth Cain would do to him the moment his hostages were safe.

That much, the boarders could have dealt with easily, but it turned out that the walls of the Ironfound had been trapped with explosives. Nefertari didn't know whether these traps had been added recently or were an old countermeasure against boarders, and she didn't care : what mattered was that, soon after they'd been detected, the ship's captain had activated them around the boarders.

Neither the Force users nor the Mandalorians were weak enough to get themselves killed by such petty tactics, but they had been separated, cut off from each other. Escaping the damaged sections of the ship had been a race that had seen them scattered around the sacrificed area – Nefertari could still feel their presence in the distance, if only because Skywalker shone with such power in the Force.

"Well, kriff," muttered Iskandar as he let loose a stream of lightning that fried a bunch of mercenaries inside their armor. "This might just be a tad more complicated than we planned for."

"It doesn't matter," Nefertari snarled. "We'll just have to kill them all."

"Your plan does have the advantage of simplicity," Iskandar admitted, and she could hear the savage grin in his voice as more lightning crackled along his arm.

From that point on, Iskandar ran at her side; or, to be more accurate, she danced around him as he advanced through the ship's corridors. Together, they broke everyone who dared stand against them. They didn't have a clear destination in mind, trusting instead to their instincts and command of the Force to guide them.

Despite the circumstances, Nefertari reflected as she cut an alien open from throat to groin, this was still one of the nicest dates her companion had ever taken her on.

---

Nux was alone. It wasn't something that had happened to him in a long time, and he found that he didn't like it. Without people around him, either to fight or talk with or just listen to, there was nothing to drown out the sound of his own screaming, gibbering voice in his head.

He hadn't made it out of the detonated corridors unscathed : half his torso armor had been ripped out, and the skin beneath was badly burned. The pain sent shivers across his body, but he ignored it with practiced ease, more concerned with the question of what he was supposed to do now.

He didn't know the route to the objective, so he ran randomly, following the noise of shouts and footsteps. The part of him that could remember the plan had decided that, since he was separated from the rest of the boarding team, he might as well provide a distraction for the others and draw as many of the enemy to him so that they could fulfil the mission. It would be a glorious death, he mused : alone and deep in enemy territory, facing the hordes of the foe to buy his comrades a shot at victory.

Yes, the Rattataki thought. It would be a worthy death.

He rounded a corner, found a squad of mercenaries gawking at him, and cut them to pieces, ignoring their blasters shooting at him. Resuming his course, he slammed into another corner (whoops, looked like his reflexes weren't back to full capacity yet), using the impact to redirect his momentum without slowing down, ignoring the bruises that spread across his right side as he did so.

A man in armor stood across the corridor, his panic blazing into the Force despite him being as gifted as a particularly dim rock in that regard.

"Stop right there, or I'll shoot !" the mercenary screamed.

Nux paused. The man was holding a blaster to the side of a terrified child with chalk-white skin, with traditional Rattataki markings on his face. Tears ran down the child's face, and snot from his nose – and one of his eyes was swelled shut from where someone had struck him.

Memories that the acolyte had spent years trying to suppress bubbled to the surface of his mind at the sight, and he growled, the joy of battle fading somewhat. He snapped his fingers, and the mercenary's hand broke in five different places. The blaster slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers, and before he could react with anything more than a pained yelp, Nux had crossed the distance between them with a burst of the Force to quicken his motion. He punched the mercenary away from the child with enough strength that he didn't get back up after hitting the wall.

Strange. Usually, he was much poorer at such fine telekinetic manipulations : he'd fully expected to tear the man's arm off. This time, however, precision had come naturally.

He could hear more footsteps getting closer, and felt the minds to which they belonged. Mind reading had never been Nux's strong suit, but he could pick up enough to guess at their intent. The Hutt in charge, whatever his name was, knew about the boarders, and had sent them to start killing the hostages until they surrendered.

Which might have worked if the boarders had all been Jedi (and even then it would only have bought time until they escaped and brought the whole ship down), but with Nefertari on board ? All it would achieve was get the mercenaries killed in an even more painful fashion … and the children hurt until they realized it wasn't working. Well, unless Iskandar or Chieftress Sulla managed to restrain the Twi'lek – Iskandar because he could think in the long run, and Sulla because she belonged to a branch of Mandalorians with a weak spot for children.

All of that, however, was irrelevant to Nux : mere background noise in his never-silent skull.

"Get back inside," he told the child, who looked so painfully, achingly familiar. Only once he had finished speaking did Nux realize he'd slipped into Rattataki without realizing.

"What are you going to do ?" the child replied in the same tongue.

Nux smiled, and that was answer enough for the child, who vanished inside the room. Nux slammed it shut with the Force before destroying the control panel with his lightsaber. It wouldn't stop even the worst slicer in the galaxy for long, but it would have to do.

Seconds later, half a dozen mercenaries turned the corridor and saw Nux standing between them and the room with the children they'd been sent to secure, lightsaber at the ready. They stopped, and Nux's smile widened as he felt their fear. After so long spent near Darth Cain, it was a feeling he was deeply familiar with.

He wondered what they had been hearing over the comms while running here – the screams of their associates as they faced Nux's comrades, the howling of Force lightning and flamethrowers, the cackling of Sith acolytes unrestrained.

"Well ?" the Rattataki asked, arms held wide tauntingly. "Are you going to do anything, or just stand here until my friends arrive ? I'm fine with that if you are. I think we're supposed to accept surrenders now, too, so you still have a chance of living past this day."

Instead of accepting his generous offer, one of the mercenaries barked an order in a language Nux didn't speak, and they all opened fire. Nux laughed as he parried some of the shots with his lightsaber and took the rest head-on, trusting in his armor and natural resilience as he charged. He smashed into their frontline, and his blade cut the first one in two. The others fell back from him, but didn't stop shooting, even at the risk of hitting their own allies.

Their ruthlessness was commendable, but futile. Within moments, they were all dead. But Nux could hear more footsteps approaching – many, many more.

His smile widened even more, stretching his cheek painfully. Let them come.

Nux fought and fought and fought, drawing on his pain, clawing power from the Force in order to keep fighting well past the point his body should have broken down from the strain he was putting it through, muscles tearing and bones breaking. He kept killing the Cartel thugs, cutting them down with his lightsaber and ignoring the pain from the blaster bolts smashing into his body.

But it wasn't enough. Dismembered bodies piled up at his feet, and the screams of the dying echoed across the metal corridor, yet still more came, a seemingly endless tide driven by fear of the Hutts' punishment for disobeying their orders, which surpassed that of being killed by the acolyte.

Whoever was in charge must have told them he was getting weaker, that they would succeed somehow where their predecessors had failed. And they were right, for eventually, Nux felt his strength running out. He was taking more and more hits, and he wasn't able to shrug them off as easily as before. His every breath was coming up short, and every beat of his heart send needles of white-hot agony through his chest.

Death was coming for him, he knew, the death he had sought for so long. This would be a good death, he thought. He would die standing, fighting to the last to protect the innocent, just like he'd dreamt he would since joining Darth Cain, the one Sith Lord in the entire Empire who would not make Nux fight dishonorable wars.

Except, the thought rose unbidden, the children were still there, hiding behind the closed door. When Nux fell, there would be no one left to protect them. They would be taken again, denied the salvation they thought had come for them. They would be used as hostages against the rest of the boarding team, and whatever glimmer of hope Nux's arrival had brought them would be snatched away.

And Nux found that he couldn't bear that idea. It filled him with horror, with a deep, deep torment that went beyond the agony of his wounded flesh. He couldn't fall here. He couldn't.

But he was too exhausted, too weak. His thoughts were sluggish, his fury was spent. He couldn't draw anymore strength from the Force. His pain, his wrath, the howling madness that ceaselessly haunted him – they weren't enough.

So he did something he'd never done before, something he'd never even considered until now. He cast aside his pride, his dignity, everything he'd been taught on the Academy and after, and he begged. He begged, just as he'd begged to be left alone when the Sith recruiters had come for him. He begged, just as he'd begged the instructors at the Academy to let him out when they had thrown him in a pit with a dozen slaves hopped up on stimulants and one single rusted knife and told him to kill or be killed.

Please, he silently implored the Force. Please, give me the strength to protect them.

And, unlike all the tormentors who had made Nux who he was, the Force answered his plea.

The Light poured into Nux in a seemingly endless flow. It healed and strengthened him, filled in the cracks that ran through his damaged mind, silenced the terrified babbling that had echoed in the depths of his soul for so, so long with a gentle embrace. The gruesome tapestry of scars that covered his body glowed with a bright, gentle radiance. The closest hired killers of the Hutts were sent hurling through the air by invisible hands, and Nux laughed again – but no one could have mistaken it for the crazed laughter he'd given before.

For the first time since he'd been dragged to Korriban in chains, in an age now considered myth by most of the galaxy, the sound was genuine, free from the maddened horror that had plagued him for so long.

Amidst the joy that filled him, Nux wondered. Was this how it felt for the Jedi all the time ? Was this how joining with the Force felt to those who rejected the power of the Dark Side ?

Why had nobody ever told him ?

It took twenty-three minutes before the rest of the rescue party rejoined him, slicing and blasting their way through the horde. The four Jedi who were part of the operation struck the tide of mercenaries from the other side. Caught between Nux and the other Force users, the mercenaries finally broke and ran, and Nux looked up from his latest kill to see Kenobi, Plo Koon, Vail and Skywalker staring at him in various degrees of awe and wonder.

"What took you so long ?" he asked them, breathless, and for several seconds, they could only stand there, stunned. Then, finally, the exhaustion of what he'd done caught up with him, and the Rattataki fell to the gore-covered ground, unconscious but alive.

He was smiling, and among the four other Lightsiders, only Knight Vail knew that this was the first time Nux had slept peacefully in years, and that one more of the Sith Empire's monuments of suffering had been undone.

---

Beyond the circle of chemical fire, Trooper Erhlsen watched as the Lord of Terror fought, enraptured.

Like everyone else in the Legion, Erhlsen knew that the Sith Lord to whom he owed allegiance was among the most powerful warriors in the Empire. But Erhlsen was one of the later recruits, having joined only after the legend of Darth Cain had been cemented across the galaxy (which, while it meant he'd to work twice as hard to prove his worth to the veterans, at least mean he'd never had to fight under Darth Erebus, and that was a bargain he was more than happy to make).

He knew his lord was among the mightiest warriors of the Empire, and certainly the one who most deserved the loyalty of the men and women under his command. But until today, he'd never seen him fight with his own eyes; at least not a real fight, rather than the crushing defeats Darth Cain inflicted upon most who dared stand in his way. Now, with the dead having been pushed back and Commander Broklaw having ordered the formation of a defensive perimeter around the circle, Erhlsen had the opportunity to watch his lord at work.

It was like a dance. Darth Cain and his combat droid moved as one, covering each other's blind spots perfectly. JURG-N had dismissed the ranged weapons it was most well-known for in favor of a pair of crackling blades emerging from its wrists.

Like every Imperial citizen, Erhlsen had been taught that droids were slaves, created to serve the will of their masters until they were of no more use. And like every Imperial citizen, Erhlsen had been taught that the same was true of the organic slaves the Empire kept in such vast quantities.

Until Darth Cain's speech at the secession ceremony, Erhlsen had never questioned it. It was only when the Lord of Terror had explained the failings of the Empire plainly that he had realized how the nation of his birth had crippled itself with its practices.

And, until now, Erhlsen still hadn't questioned the use of droids as servants. It wasn't the same thing as organics, after all : droids were made to serve. But, looking at JURG-N fighting alongside Darth Cain, the two of them more in sync than Erhlsen had ever achieved yet with his squadmates, it was hard not to think that maybe the difference was more arbitrary than he'd like.

The enemies of the Sith Lord and killer droid were far more skilled than the mercenaries the Legion had fought on Savareen. Their wargear appeared primitive, but their blades were able to withstand the touch of Darth Cain's lightsaber, and the speed at which they moved betrayed their Force sensitivity even to those like Erhlsen who lacked the gift.

But their martial skill fell short of that which Erhlsen had seen displayed by the acolytes of the Lord of Terror. They moved with a discipline and ease that spoke of long years of training, yes, but it was obvious even to the trooper's eyes that whoever had trained them simply hadn't been good enough. Numbers were the only advantage they had, and while that might have been sufficient against most Force users, Darth Cain was far too powerful to fall to something so mundane.

"Eyes on the enemy, Erhlsen !" barked his sergeant, and the trooper nearly jumped before moving his blaster back toward the horde of shambling dead which were approaching.

He opened fire, but behind him, he could still hear the sound of battle, growing quieter and quieter, until they stopped completely.

He really, really wanted to turn back and look, but he had a feeling that if he did so before the last of the dead were back to being inanimate and the last of the enemy droids were reduced to scrap, his sergeant would make him wish he was dead.

---

I took a deep, shuddering breath as the last of the assassins fell and the circle of chemical fire JURG-N had created in a vain attempt to keep my assailants at bay guttered out, and then died out entirely.

JURG-N and I had fought back to back, as we had before on innumerable occasions. We'd both taken a few blows : my aide would need to spend some time in the repair shop getting his chassis seen to, and my own body armor was also going to need some repairs.

But we'd won. Every last one of my would-be killers were dead. They had fought to the bitter end, instead of fleeing once it had become clear they couldn't hope to succeed, which troubled me greatly. Hired killers were one thing, but in my experience, fanatics were much worse to deal with. I'd tried to take one alive to interrogate her, and she'd thrown herself on her own blade.

I closed my eyes and tried to chase after the presence which had bound them together, but it had vanished when the last of them had fallen. I shook my head in frustration, then called Broklaw.

"Commander," I barked over the comms network. "I've dealt with our foe's attempt at killing me. Report."

"The remaining undead are collapsing across the field, my lord," Broklaw reported with calm professionalism, as if facing a horde of reanimated corpses was an everyday occurrence – although, Force help me, compared to some of the battles we'd been through together, it might as well be. "As for the droids, frankly, they are antiques. We're crushing them with minimal casualties."

"Excellent. Destroy them all, Commander," I ordered. "We need to make sure the Cartels learn their lesson."

"As you wish, my lord," he replied with obvious relish.

A few moments later, it was done. I was checking with Broklaw that the injured were being taken care of (which they were, of course : the medical corps of the Imperial Army units under my command had been among the best of the Empire, since I never knew when I might need their services myself) when JURG-N spoke up :

"Sir, Commodore Kasteen is hailing us. The Hutt fleet is leaving orbit as we speak, and apparently the Hutt wants to talk to you."

"The extraction of the hostages was a success ?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. I have been told that there were some complications, but they are all safe and sound aboard the Invincible, as are Knight Vail and the rest of the rescue team."

I carefully didn't let my relief show in my posture. I'd known that Amberley would be alright; she had survived far worse than a Hutt ship and come out victorious. But I couldn't help the nagging worry which had troubled me since leaving the flagship.

JURG-N, of course, was aware of this even if no one else was, which was why he'd made sure to mention her name in his report.

"Good," I said. "Let's see what the slug wants to talk about now. Put him through, JURG-N."

The holocomm in my aide's hand lit up, projecting an almost comically small image of Fulcher before my eyes. I was no great expert at reading Hutt expressions, but I could tell he was furious.

"Hello, Fulcher," I said. "Having some issues with your little scheme, are you ?"

"Do you think you have won, Cain ?" he started spitting without preamble. "This isn't over ! The Cartels will crush your pathetic crusade ! We will –"

Fulcher abruptly stopped talking. The projected image stopped moving completely, mouth frozen mid-invective, eyes wide and filling with fear. Ice crystals formed on the ground around us, making the air painfully dry as all moisture was suddenly sucked out of it.

I knew exactly what Fulcher was feeling, for I had felt the same, only a thousand times worse, when the Emperor had forced me to put the Phobis Device on my own head. As always, part of me recoiled from the notion of inflicting such a fate on anyone else, even a Hutt slaver.

But he had taken children, and I had to teach the Cartels a lesson they would remember so that they never tried that trick again – especially since it had appeared to work in forcing me to act as Fulcher wished, even if it had been turned on him in the end. And so I held him in place with my glare and the power of the Force, feeling very, very cold and alone as I did so.

"I told you to run, Fulcher," I said, ignoring the choking sounds being transmitted through the link. "You should have listened."

---

On the bridge of the Ironfound, the crew watched in horror as their captain died. After the boarders had left with the hostages and the battle on the ground had been lost, Fulcher had given the order for the fleet to run, knowing it could not defeat the Invincible and its allies. But even as the engines fired up and the ship prepared to jump into hyperspace, the Hutt hadn't been able to resist throwing one last curse at the Lord of Terror, to make one last attempt to salvage his wounded pride before needing to explain his failure to Marlo in person.

It was a mistake he would not have to regret for long.

The temperature on the bridge had plummeted, causing frost to form on every metallic surface and the breath of every sentient to fog. Dark spots were spreading across Fulcher's skin as internal bleeding ravaged his flesh, and blood poured from his mouth, nose, ears and eyes, freezing into icicles as it did so.

Someone shouted to cut the link, and someone else obeyed immediately, punching the buttons with enough strength to make sparks fly from the console. But the image of Darth Cain remained, formed of ice and shadow, watching in silent, merciless fury as Fulcher the Hutt's organs failed one after the other from the strain of absolute terror and whatever else the Lord of Terror was subjecting him to through his dark sorcery.

It took Fulcher a long time to die. Hutts were legendarily hardy creatures, and this translated to more than a longer than average lifespan. A few crew, more loyal or greedy than the rest, tried to approach him to deliver what aid they could, only to recoil and flee as they drew near, unable to withstand even a fraction of the supernatural horror that was being inflicted upon Fulcher.

Only when the Ironfound's pilot slammed the hyperdrive's activation lever and the ship vanished into hyperspace did the ghastly specter of the Lord of Terror vanish, but by then it was too late. Despite the best efforts of the Ironfound's medics (who knew all too well the fate that awaited them if they returned to the Cartels' territory with their leader dead), there was nothing they could do to coax Fulcher's biology back into a working state.

By the time the Ironfound emerged from hyperspace, everyone aboard had heard what had happened, the story growing more terrible with each retelling. There was no attempt to keep the truth quiet, futile as it would have been, and every crew member with a personal holocomm began to spread the tale of how Darth Cain had slain Fulcher the Hutt aboard his ship from the planet's surface at once.

Within five minutes, the first headline appeared on the Holonews. Within ten, the first report on the battle of Rattatak had been broadcast.

---

In her chambers aboard the ship of the Hutt fleet that had been assigned to serve as her Sisterhood's transport, Mother Talzin took a deep, shuddering breath, and tried to calm down her ancient, racing heart, lest her grief drown her.

Her sisters were dead, their corpses laying broken on Rattatak, never to be reclaimed and properly laid to rest on Dathomir. A full score of Nightsisters, slain by the Sith Lord and his pet assassin droid. The Sisterhood hadn't suffered such losses since the last war between covens, and never at the hands of a single Force user.

She had underestimated Darth Cain's power, despite everything. She'd never thought the army of droids and walking dead would be enough to defeat the Sith army, no matter what Fulcher had believed, but she'd thought they would provide a good enough distraction – and they had. But her sisters hadn't been strong enough to defeat the Lord of Terror, even working together, even with her serving as the bridge between their minds to allow them to fight better than they ever had.

And yet, the death of her sisters wasn't the only insult Darth Cain had inflicted upon her this day. She had felt the presence of another of her people aboard the Ironfound. Not a trained Nightsister, but one born of their blood all the same – yet when Talzin had reached out to her, she had rejected the communion. It was all Talzin could do to warn Fulcher that his flagship had been boarded. Not that that had done much of a difference in the end, though a small part of her was relieved the girl, whoever she was, had managed to escape alive.

She didn't know where Cain had found her, but the fact he'd already bound one of her people into his service was proof, if proof were needed, of the threat the Lord of Terror represented. Now that he knew of their existence, he would not stop until the Nightsisters were all dead or enslaved to his will.

Which meant that she needed Marlo's support more than ever. The Hutt crime lord would be displeased by the Nightsisters' failure to kill Darth Cain, even more so than Fulcher's death. Even this far from the flagship, Talzin had felt the Hutt's demise. She had felt very relieved that it hadn't been her who had drawn the Lord of Terror's attention.

She would have to convince Marlo that he needed the Nightsisters' help, that without their presence, things would have gone even worse for his task force. She didn't worry about Marlo abandoning the fight by surrendering to Cain : the terms of surrender the Sith Lord had offered were utterly unacceptable to the Hutts, something Cain must have known and done deliberately in order to make his rampage seem acceptable to the naive Republic. But maintaining their alliance would take work, and she would also need to send to Dathomir for more of her sisters to join her.

Perhaps the other covens might be convinced to assist them as well, she reflected. Surely, even their past differences paled compared to the threat of a Sith Lord bent on turning the Outer Rim into his personal fiefdom ?

Notes:

AN : Nux's scene was one I've had in my head for months now, and I hope I did it justice. And don't worry : we will get to see more out of him in the future. I'm not sure what exactly, my plans for him ending with this scene of him finding the Light, but I'm sure the Muse will come up with something.

As for Fulcher's death, well. There is a reason Darth Erebus "favored" Ciaphas above all his other Apprentices. If Vader can strangle an Imperial officer aboard another ship while being a crippled husk of his former self, then Cain can execute a Hutt who has really, really pissed him off from the ground.

Next up, we will see what wacky adventures Vaylin and Imperius got up too while Cain was busy liberating Rattatak.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts and comments.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 20: Awakening

Marlo the Hutt was chewing on a wriggling creature his chef had prepared and served him while it was still alive (a challenge not many cooks were capable of meeting, which was why he'd had this one abducted from his previous employment on Coruscant along with his family to serve as guarantees of his good behavior) as he listened to the report of his ally.

It wasn't good news, but Marlo was slightly impressed by Talzin's sheer brazenness. Most of the sentients who worked for him would have fled and done their best to disappear rather than return to explain themselves after a failure of the magnitude of what had happened in the Rattatak system.

Usually, this was fine by him : he'd send a bounty hunter after the deserter, and they would either die trying to resist capture, or they would be dragged before him, where he could make an example of them so that the rest of his subordinates tried harder to fulfil his orders in the future. There were few who were willing to risk coming back to explain themselves, and those who did had to be convinced they were too useful to discard after a single failure. Often, he'd let his mood decide whether the employee in question got another chance to prove themselves or was executed as an example. The incertitude kept his subordinates off-balance, and that in turn kept Marlo's position secure.

Now, however, things were different. He wasn't maintaining a power base his Clan had built over thousands of years : he was fighting a war against an enemy who seemingly cared nothing for the galaxy's balance of power. Defeats were inevitable in any real war, and if his commanders thought he would kill them for any failure against the likes of Darth Cain, recruitment would suffer. At the same time, he couldn't be too merciful without damaging his image in the eyes of the underworld.

It was a delicate balancing act to maintain, but after centuries of sitting at the top of the pyramid, part of Marlo couldn't help but find it exhilarating. He would have to find some way to make Talzin's position in their alliance clear once she was finished; something which would humiliate her, but not so much that she decided to break off their arrangement. His efforts to find other Force-users in the Outer Rim had yet to bear fruit, though there were a handful of promising leads his hunters were following even now.

"Cain has somehow acquired a daughter of Dathomir," Talzin was explaining. "How and where, I do not know, but she was involved in the attack on the Ironfound which resulted in the hostages' liberation. I believe that –"

She suddenly stopped, and leant against the pulpit at which she'd been speaking for support. When she looked up, she was even paler than before, which Marlo wouldn't have thought was possible.

"What ?" he barked. "What is it ?"

"Something … something has changed," she mumbled, shaking her head. "A new … no, not new. An old power rises. In his lust for power and conquest, Darth Cain is disturbing things best left untouched, uncaring of the consequences."

"So, he's even more dangerous now ?" Marlo asked for confirmation. He was frowning, his mind already contemplating which of the contingencies he'd been preparing would be best for the situation.

"I … I am not sure," the Witch hesitated. "This power feels … too great for the Lord of Terror to simply control. Everything I know of the Sith tells me that there should be a struggle, a challenge to determinate whether he is worthy of it. But Darth Cain's methods have often been atypical of his breed, even if his ultimate objective remains the same."

"Find out exactly what happened," Marlo ordered. "If you can do this, we'll forget about your failure on Rattatak. I'll send word to my own agents. And, Talzin ? For your own sake, I recommend you find out first."

---

Alone in his private apartment, Sidious quietly seethed. His spies in the court of Marlo the Hutt (which weren't limited to Hanar, though she was the one most favored by Marlo at the moment) had sent him word that the battle of Rattatak had ended.

And Cain had won, again. Oh, Sidious had never expected the Witches of Dathomir to kill the Lord of Terror : no Sith Lord could possibly fall to pathetic second-stringers like them. Only another Sith, like himself, could kill Darth Cain in battle. But the ease with which he'd evaded their trap and earned the loyalty of the warring clans was infuriating. When he'd heard of Fulcher's plan to use the warlords' children as hostages, he had grinned in admiration, thinking that no matter what Cain did, it would end up costing him something, if only some damage to the grand deception he'd been weaving for the Republic's eyes since his return of a benevolent tyrant.

But no. The brats had been rescued while Darth Cain tore right through the Witches' pathetic trap, and Palpatine was bitterly certain that Vail and the Jedi emissaries had been involved somehow. With every day Anakin spent near Cain, Sidious' grasp on the Jedi's precious Chosen One grew weaker and weaker.

That alone would be reason enough for his bad mood, but there was more. As the story of what had happened spread and the Holonet news channels reached out to Perlia for information on what had happened, carefully curated footage of the battle planetside had been broadcast. Watching it, Sidious had noticed that Vaylin, Cain's apprentice, was nowhere to be seen.

Where was she ? The first thing that came to Sidious' mind was that Cain had sent his apprentice on a mission to kill the heads of the Cartels. She'd already proven that the defenses of the Hutts' strongholds could do little to stop her, and while Marlo and the others had no doubt reinforced their security since Jabba's execution, Sidious didn't think any of them would be able to stop Vaylin.

But that felt wrong. Cain claimed that he wanted this war against the Hutts, so that he and his followers could sharpen their skills in battle against what he perceived as the greatest possible rival to his power. It was a lie, obviously – the only true rival for one of Darth Cain's stature was Sidious himself – but a useful one. So far, Cain's little crusade was proceeding very well for him : there was no need to upend the balance by sending his apprentice on a decapitating strike. No, Vaylin was doing something else.

He was still sitting behind his desk pondering this mystery when the disturbance in the Force reached him, and his hands tightened around the armrests with enough strength to crack the furniture.

Cain's return to the galaxy had felt like a sudden surge of power, a violent storm that had erupted out of nowhere, catching everyone by surprise – though whether that included the Lord of Terror himself, who had learned from the greatest Sith Oracle to have ever lived, Sidious still wasn't certain. This, by contrast, felt more like the awakening of something which had always been there in the background; as if a mountain that had always been part of the horizon had suddenly gotten up and started walking. It was difficult to compare the mountain to the storm, but both were vast, far greater than the lesser creatures that populated the galaxy.

Oh, Sidious had no doubt that he himself was more than a match for these titans – his pride refused to let him consider the alternative. But the question of how this had happened yet remained. Unfortunately, as far as the galaxy knew, Sheev Palpatine wasn't Force-sensitive, so while he'd no doubt the weaklings in their Temple had sensed this wave, he would have to wait until the Jedi Order informed him of whatever new development had caused this.

He didn't need to wait to know the one responsible, of course. The answer to the question of where Vaylin had gone had just been answered, which meant Cain was the one who had orchestrated whatever had just happened.

"What has that infuriating man done now ?" he hissed.

---

The Rattataki stronghold had clearly seen better days, just like almost every single structure on the planet. In Anakin's estimation, it had been built about a couple hundred years ago, and the successive owners had only done the bare minimum of maintenance required to keep the walls standing. But that hadn't stopped the Sith from turning it into an impromptu command center within hours of seizing it after their crushing of the Hutt droid army (and, according to what Anakin had overheard, the horde of the undead who'd risen from the war-torn ground to join them, which he would feel bad to have missed if not for the fact that he'd been on a far more important mission at the time).

Anakin tore his gaze away from the architecture and back to the other member of the rescue party who was walking next to him. To the naked eye, Nux didn't look much different from before their raid on the Ironfound. He stood straighter, and his face was bereft of the mad grin and tormented gaze that had been present every time Anakin had seen him before. But looking at him through the Force, the changes couldn't be more obvious.

Before, Nux's aura had been a cracked thing of rage and pain, contained underneath a façade of joyful insanity. Now, the cracks were still visible, but something had filled them in after bleeding out the agony beneath, replacing it with warm tranquillity. It reminded Anakin of some pottery pieces he'd seen on a mission with Obi-Wan, where the locals had used gold to fill in the cracks.

Not that Nux felt all that calm right now, but Anakin couldn't blame him for it. Meeting your Sith boss after turning to the Light had to be a stressful situation. He didn't think Cain was the kind of Sith to kill a subordinate over something like this (especially with a bunch of Jedi in the room), but it still had to be nerve-wracking.

"It's going to be fine," he whispered to the Rattataki, who glanced in his direction and made a small, grateful smile.

After they'd left the Ironfound with the rescued children, Nux had stayed with the Jedi while Khayon and Nefertari went to report to Darth Cain. There hadn't been much time to talk with him once he had woken up, as the children had needed reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

Then, nearly right after Nux had woken up, they had been contacted by Cain, very politely asking to bring his wayward acolyte to him. Obi-Wan and Plo Koon had been slightly uneasy, but Knight Vail had assured them everything would be fine, and Nux himself had voiced his desire to meet his lord.

They walked into the audience room together. Darth Cain was sitting on what Anakin was fairly sure had been the throne of the fortress' previous owner. He'd to admit the Sith Lord looked very much at home on the pile of bones and melted weapons which some poor soul had been forced to make into a facsimile of a throne. JURG-N stood at his side as always, and there were Sith troopers standing on guard along the walls.

"Master Jedi," said the Lord of Terror with a nod. "Thank you for answering my call so promptly."

"It was nothing," replied Obi-Wan.

"You underestimate how rare politeness and punctuality are, then," said Darth Cain with a small smile.

Then his yellow gaze fell upon the Rattataki.

"Nux," he said, almost gently, and Nux startled. "It pleases me to see that you have recovered. From what I understand, you distinguished yourself aboard the Ironfound."

"My lord," said Nux, head bowed, clearly fighting the impulse to fall on his knees. Darth Cain wasn't using any Force power that Anakin could detect : this was all natural charisma on the Lord of Terror's part.

"But there is another matter to address first; the Bantha in the room, so to speak. It is obvious to me, and to anyone with any Force sensitivity to speak of, that you have turned away from the Dark Side," said the Sith Lord, and Anakin was surprised that he wasn't surprised that Darth Cain didn't sound angry. In fact, his voice sounded … kind.

Which was weird, considering the news of what he'd done to Fulcher were already spreading all over the Holonet. Nobody in the Order had exactly been surprised that Darth Cain could kill someone in space from a planet's surface, but the rest of the galaxy had a very different understanding of the limitations of the mightiest Force users. It wasn't like Master Yoda went out much these days, and even when he did, it was on tense diplomatic missions that generally didn't require him to strangle someone across the void of space to make a point.

Or at least Anakin assumed so. Presumably somebody would have shared that story with him at some point otherwise.

"I … yes, my lord," replied Nux. "I have turned away from the teachings of the Academy, from the path you traced for us all."

"That is not unheard of," said Cain, "but rare all the same, and takes exceptional circumstances. Tell me, in your own words : what happened ?"

"I was fighting to hold the Hutt thugs away from the kidnapped children," said Nux, who sounded a lot more coherent than Anakin had ever heard him before. "I fought using the teachings of the Dark Side, but I was too weak, and it wasn't enough. And then …" He paused for a moment, before continuing : "and then the Light answered my desperate prayer."

"I see," replied Darth Cain, leaning back into his borrowed throne. "You have a choice to make, Nux. I've no doubt that there is much the Jedi could teach you about this new path you now find yourself on, and even if the Order is unwilling to take you in – which I strongly doubt – there is no question in my mind that Knight Vail would be glad to take you in. Isn't that so, Knight Vail ?"

"It would be an honor to guide young Nux," the Knight of the Old Republic immediately replied. "If I have to take him on as my own Padawan, I will, even if the Order opposes it."

Which they wouldn't, Anakin was pretty certain. Oh, sure, they'd complained about having him join the Order by claiming he was too old, but according to Knight Vail, back in her day full adults could be inducted into the Order without issue, and there had even been a member of the Dark Council who had been persuaded to turn his back to the Dark Side and join the Light at some point, which was pretty wizard in his opinion.

So nobody was going to argue with Knight Vail if she turned up at the Temple with an ex-Sith acolyte as a Padawan.

"Otherwise," said Darth Cain, "you may continue as before. We'll find new quarters for you on Perlia, as I doubt the Sith Temple will be as welcoming to you as it was before, but I'm sure Commander Broklaw can find a place for you in our newly formed coalition."

"You … you would still have me under your command, my lord ?" asked Nux, sounding as if he was struggling to grasp the idea.

"Would you follow my orders ?" asked Cain, his tone more severe now. "Would you fight my enemies, in pursuit of freedom for all sentients in the galaxy, that all may pursue their full potential ?"

"Yes, my lord," Nux replied without hesitation.

"Then yes, you can stay if you wish. After all," Cain added with a slight smile, "it would hardly be the first time I fought side by side with a Light-sided Sith."

Anakin (and Obi-Wan, and probably Plo Koon under his mask) blinked at the apparent contradiction.

"Then … Then I choose to stay, my lord," said Nux, who finally knelt before the Lord of Terror. "There are still children enslaved by the Hutts and other criminals in the Outer Rim. I believe this is why the Light came to my aid when I needed it most, and I wish to repay that miracle I was given. Until the crusade is done, please let me fight alongside you."

"It would be my honor, Nux," said Darth Cain softly.

"Forgive the interruption," Master Plo Koon cut in, "but that seems rather … unorthodox, based on what we know of the Sith. Admittedly, you have been far from what our records describe as a typical Sith Lord, but this still seems like a huge leap."

"As I said, Master Jedi, it wouldn't be the first time. The Sith Empire was vast, and had thousands of Force users within its ranks. Despite the best efforts of the Emperor and the likes of my Master," the temperature in the room briefly turned freezing before returning to normal, "there were many who sought to walk a different path. Admittedly, these paths rarely went very far before they were caught and executed for heresy, but it happened all the same."

Anakin tried to imagine what that must be like. To try to follow the Light while surrounded by the Dark Side of the Force, with only the distorted accounts of Jedi philosophy to use as a guide, knowing all the while that if you were found out, death would be the kindest fate awaiting you …

He wondered what kind of people it would be who had the strength to do such a thing. He couldn't imagine himself doing it, that was for sure.

Anakin was about to open his mouth to ask who Darth Cain was talking about when, suddenly, every Force-sensitive in the throne room froze in place, all of them sensing the same sudden disturbance in the Force.

When the Invincible had emerged from hyperspace after thirty-five centuries, it had felt to Anakin as if a great storm had suddenly erupted in the Force as Darth Cain, Vaylin, and all the Sith acolytes and troopers were suddenly returned to reality with all the subtlety of a meteor being dropped into a planetary ocean.

This was different : it felt like a single howl, a krayt dragon bellowing his awakening from sleep for all to hear and beware. And while the Dark Side had laughed in delight with the return of the Lord of Terror, this time it was silent, the silence of a predator watching from afar.

"Ah," Darth Cain breathed out, eyes closed. "It seems my apprentice has succeeded in her mission."

"You – you know what this was ?" asked Obi-Wan, eyes wide.

"Of course," replied Darth Cain, a wide smile on his face that looked just a little unhinged. "That, my dear Jedi, was another of my old friends waking up from his nap."

The look on Obi-Wan's face was almost comical – not that Anakin would ever say so where his Master could hear.

---

A few hours ago, in a long-forgotten corner of the same galaxy …

The Dread Son sailed through the void, following a complex hyperspace route that was pushing its crew – selected from the best of the Invincible – to their limits. Before this mission, the ship had undergone a complete refit, its engines and navigation systems checked twice and then twice again. Even so, every crew member let out a sigh of relief when the ship finally emerged from hyperspace and the announcement that they'd reached their destination was made.

"We are out of the nebula, my lady," reported Captain Durant. "All systems nominal, though the engines will need some time to cool off before we can make the return trip. Astronavigation confirms that we are at the intended coordinates."

On the vessel's bridge, Vaylin sat on her command throne. The Holocron of Darth Imperius laid on the left armrest, where it had remained active for the entire journey. The data it contained regarding the path to their objective had already been uploaded to the Dread Son's systems, but Vaylin had decided to use the opportunity to talk with the spirit inside, looking for knowledge of her Teacher from before she'd met him.

"This is it ?" she asked.

"It is," replied the Holocron-made specter Darth Imperius, widening his arms as he gestured to the sight beyond the viewport. "Behold, the Hidden Fleet of the Sith Empire."

Ships hung in the void, silent and cold. There was en entire battlefleet of them, though few were devoid of battle damage. According to Imperius' tale, these ships had been gathered from various Imperial battlegroups and marked as destroyed or lost, and by that time in the Empire's history, there had been very few ships in the Imperial Navy that was completely intact, and none of them were assigned to the frontlines and could have disappear without someone noticing.

"We'll need to send inspection crews to see what repairs are needed to bring them back online," said Captain Durant diffidently. "After that, they'll need crews to function, of course."

"Are there any traps they should know about ?" Vaylin asked the Holocron.

"No," he replied, shaking his masked head. "Reaching this place was considered enough of a challenge in itself. However, you will need the command codes to avoid spending years trying to slice the vessels' systems, and those are within the stronghold itself."

"Couldn't you have put them in the Holocron ?" she asked.

"That would have required that I be made aware of them," said Imperius. "There may have been some … suspicion, by the other members of our group, that I would steal them away instead if that were the case. Entirely unfounded, of course, but even the most reasonable of Sith Lords can be paranoid from time to time."

That made sense, Vaylin supposed. Despite her position as Darth Cain's apprentice, she didn't have a lot of experience with the politics of the Sith Empire : her Teacher had kept her away from the scheming of the Dark Council, and the Eternal Empire of Zakuul's own politics had been much simpler by comparison, with Valkorion holding absolute power in a very direct manner compared to the labyrinthine hierarchy he'd created on his first attempt at building a galactic power.

"Captain, send the inspection crews to the ships which would be most useful to us first," she ordered. "I trust your judgement in deciding which ones these are. I'll be going aboard the station to recover the command codes and start the awakening of the sleepers inside."

"Understood, Lady Vaylin."

Moments later, Vaylin was inside a fighter's cockpit. She wasn't the best pilot in the galaxy, but she knew enough to be able to fly by herself if needed – she hadn't known how when her Teacher had taken her in, but he'd insisted she learn, telling her that the knowledge could make the difference between life and death.

Through the cockpit's window, she saw her destination growing larger and larger.

Silver tendrils were spread all over the station. At first glance, they looked like roots, but the Dread Son's scanners had quickly revealed that they were made of metal instead, and pulsing with a low-level energy current. More interestingly, they shone to Vaylin's perceptions.

"These things are imbued with the Force," she noted aloud. "How is that possible ?"

"Ah, now that is an interesting story," replied Darth Imperius, whose Holocron projection had decreased in size to avoid filling the cockpit and blocking her vision, "once we'd managed to get enough support for this scheme, one of our architects drew up the plans for the fortress. They were perfectly acceptable, and I have no doubt they'd have served well enough to preserve the sleepers throughout the ages. But I suggested a certain … upgrade."

"An 'upgrade'," Vaylin repeated dubiously. "And what kind of upgrade results in … this ?"

"The use of the Infinite Engine," Imperius explained. "A fragment from the Star Forge, taken by Revan during his time as a Sith Lord and hidden on Nar Shadda as part of an experiment."

"What kind of experiment ?" asked Vaylin. Unlike her Teacher, she'd never met the legendary Jedi-turned-Sith-Lord-turned-galactic-savior, but Darth Cain's stories about him hadn't painted the most flattering picture.

"He locked the fragment away along with a bunch of Ongree slaves he'd indoctrinated into worshipping it," replied Darth Imperius cheerfully. "For generations, they fed it their dead, and it provided them with food, water and air, even as it grew bigger and bigger. The Imperial Reclamation Service found it during the Cold War, but the defenses Revan had put into place killed all their expeditions … until I arrived, and took a stroll right through them, out of curiosity. And patriotism, of course," he added as an afterthought.

"What did you do with the Ongree ?" asked Vaylin. She didn't really care, but it was the kind of thing she thought her Teacher would ask in her position.

"I arranged for them to leave before the Service arrived and entrusted them to my … let's say allies on the moon. Last I checked, they were adjusting to life outside their compound about as well as could be expected. Of course," the revenant added, "they are all long dead now."

Vaylin didn't say anything. She still wasn't sure how she felt about the fact that her mother and surviving brother were long since dead, taking all chances of their family ever reconciling with them.

Imperius sighed, then continued : "The IRS' resources were stretched thin by the time the Second Great Galactic War started, and they didn't have the opportunity to do anything with the Infinite Engine. After I killed Thanaton and replaced him as Holder of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge, the organization fell under my purview. When we decided to build this place, I remembered its existence and thought it could be very useful in ensuring that the tech kept working for as long as needed. I knew better than anyone except Revan just how durable Rakatan technology could be, after all."

"So you incorporated a priceless artefact from the first recorded galactic civilization into your last-ditch plan to preserve some of the Empire's fighting potential for when my Teacher returned," Vaylin summed up what the ghost had said.

"Pretty much, yes. And now, I get to see if it worked !"

"You sound very … enthusiastic," Vaylin said cautiously.

"Of course !" the Holocron replied immediately. "Do you know how many ancient ruins from millennia past I visited when I was alive ? This time, it's one I helped design and build myself ! How many sentients in the history of the galaxy can claim they have done such a thing ?"

Vaylin opened her mouth, then realized she had no counterpoint to that, and closed it. She hadn't spent as much time in Darth Imperius' presence when he was alive as her Teacher, but she was beginning to understand why he'd always talked of his old ally in such … ambivalent terms.

"There's an atmosphere out there," she noted, looking at the fighter's scans. "Even though there shouldn't be, given the size of this place."

"We installed some gravitic generators into the cache," explained Imperius. "As for the atmosphere, that's probably the Infinite Engine at work. It has had three and a half thousand years to work here, after all."

She followed the Holocron's instructions and landed the fighter close to a sheer wall of rock, with nothing distinguishing it from the rest of the asteroid. Reaching out with the Force, she felt a hidden panel built into the stone and slid it open. It lit up, waiting for input, and she tapped the code Imperius had told her, careful not to make a mistake.

The panel beeped once, and a much larger section of the rocky façade slid away, revealing a passage large enough for several speeders to go through side-by-side. Beyond was an immense chamber dug into the rock. At first, it was in complete darkness, but skylights began to turn on one by one, revealing an awe-inspiring sight.

There were thousands of carbonite sheets, tens of thousands, stretching as far as her eyes could see. Each one contained a fully equipped Sith trooper or ship crew, and Vaylin wondered what had gone through their head as they waited for the procedure to be performed, knowing that everything they knew might be gone by the time they woke up, if they ever woke up at all. Her own journey into the future had been an accident, and if not for her Teacher's presence, she doubted she'd be handling it anywhere near as well as she'd managed.

What would these men and women think when they woke up to find the Empire was gone, and all that remained of it was Perlia and the Invincible ?

She didn't know. But she guessed she would find out soon enough, and she would do her best to help them deal with it and adapt. Not that she cared about them, of course, but her Teacher would want her to do it.

Vaylin made her way through the rows of frozen soldiers and toward the end of the cavernous space, where a small pyramid rose above the ground. The Imperial emblem had been carved on the wall behind it, and was now surrounded by tendrils of the Infinite Engine, which were spread across the entire space like the roots of some impossibly large tree, wrapped around the base of every carbonite sheet as they drank in the Force energy produced by the sleepers.

"Won't the Infinite Engine have drained them completely ?" she asked, frowning.

"Oh, we tested that beforehand," Imperius reassured her. "Rakatan technology, which is what the Infinite Engine is derived from, was very good at keeping its power sources alive. With a bit of experimentation, it only absorbs the energy they'd otherwise send into the Force, which doubled as a convenient way of hiding their presence from Force detection."

That made sense, Vaylin supposed. Especially given who had been selected to lead this hidden army : the Jedi Order would have gone to great lengths to find them after their disappearance.

"Wait a second," she said as another thought hit her. "You tested it ? Really ? That's … from what Teacher told me, that doesn't strike me as typical behavior from the Sith Empire."

"Oh, I definitely had to shock a few people who wanted to just skip safety checks and start building immediately with Force Lightning to make them see reason," the Holocron projection replied without hesitation nor shame. "You wouldn't believe how many Sith Lords think the Dark Side somehow means you don't have to worry about things like safety regulations and scientific testing."

Ah, now that sounded more like the Empire her Teacher complained about whenever she managed to get him to talk about his past from before she'd become his apprentice. Apparently, a number of the secret projects spearheaded by his peers had ended up in catastrophic failure due to their lack of caution, either by blowing up spectacularly during construction, or because of some crucial weak spot that had gone undetected and which some plucky Republic operative had been able to exploit.

Naturally, Darth Cain's own secret project, the Invincible, was completely devoid of such weaknesses, being the result of years of research and design by entire teams of the best shipwrights the Empire had to offer working without the threat of an agonizing death for failing to meet some arbitrary, impossible deadline looming over them.

Vaylin climbed the steps, and found that three carbonite sheets rested atop the pyramid. Unlike the common troopers', these ones were laying flat on what she could only describe as altars. Two of them contained feminine figures, while the one in the middle was …

"Long time no see, old friend," said Darth Imperius in a sober tone.

Vaylin had known what to expect, but it still felt strange to see him, after so many years. She took a deep breath of the freezing air, and moved toward the control panel. It used standard Imperial icons, to which Vaylin had long since become used to. After checking that the vitals of all three were still good, it only took her a moment to activate the unfreezing program for the central figure, which required placing the Holocron inside the machine – leaving Vaylin temporarily alone, as the projection of Darth Imperius was deactivated.

The carbonite slab hissed as the material melted away, revealing its captive. Even laying down his back, the red-skinned male was huge, probably the largest Pureblood Sith Vaylin had ever seen, and one of the few near-Human sentients taller than her Teacher. He was clad in a suit of elaborate crimson armor with gold trims, and as he slowly emerged from unconsciousness, Vaylin felt the Force react, like a sea in which a long-sunken leviathan had broken the surface. She had no doubt that, by the time she contacted her Teacher to inform him of her success, he would already be aware of it, no matter where he was in the galaxy.

After several long seconds, his vision finally fixed on Vaylin, and he smiled. Vaylin had to hold herself back from smacking that smile off his face.

"Hello, Vaylin," said the Sith warrior who, once upon a time, had been the terror of entire armies, both Republican and Imperial.

"Hello, Wrath," said Vaylin.

Next

Interlude : Wrath

We create with many hands, and our greatest instrument is Love.

Notes:

AN : Come on, now. All those of you who know anything about SWTOR saw this coming. For the rest of you, the Wrath is the Sith Warrior, one of the character classes which can be chosen at the start of the game.

I have taken some liberties with the design of the Carbonite Army's location, given that all we have to go on is a single cutscene from Star Wars : Empire at War - Forces of Corruption. Any discrepancy should be chalked up to Imperius suggesting changes to the design and the presence of the Infinite Engine.

This chapter marks the end of this story's second arc. As you might expect, the Secret Fleet's return is going to cause some escalation. But first, an Interlude showing us the backstory of this version of the Wrath, as well as a glimpse into what set Vaylin on her own, very distinct from canon, path.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts and comments.

Zahariel out.

Chapter 21: Interlude : Wrath

Hello, sibling.

There are patterns in the Force, in the currents of History. Tales and archetypes that repeat themselves, again and again. So often are their lessons forgotten, leading to needless tragedy.

But not this time. We push at the limits of our remit; we cast bottled messages into the endless sea; we join our voice to the endless chorus, all so that it may reach you, sibling.

Listen, sibling, and listen well, for we have a tale to tell you. It is a tale of a man who would have been a monster, but for the smallest stumbling block set upon the course of his ordained fate.

Once upon a time, there was a young man, born to one of the eldest houses of the Sith Empire. Both of his parents were Pureblood, and as a result of the alchemy of the ancient sorcerers who'd meddled with their ancestors generations prior, it was only after eleven failed attempts – eleven painful, tragic, pain-filled attempts, each of which hardened their hearts even further than the last – before one of their children was safely delivered.

For all the grief the parents endured, their child seemed perfect in every way. His body was as healthy as it was strong, and his power in the Force was great. From an early age he was trained to be a warrior of the Empire, destined to lead its legions into battle once the current peace, which all in the galaxy knew was nothing but a sham, finally came to an end. He took to these teachings well, growing to surpass each of his martial teachers one by one. He was to be a champion, a mighty blade to strike down the enemies of the Empire.

And then, on the world where he was meant to complete his initiation and be sworn to the Dark forever, he met her. A simple soul, shining with light despite the chains and collar that bound her. She was the first person the young warrior had ever met who didn't look up to him in admiration or jealousy. The warrior had met the noble daughters of other Sith households, who had made their beauty into weapons in the deadly games of intrigue that kept the Empire's elite occupied, yet this slave girl was the single most beautiful person he had ever seen.

He didn't understand what it was that he felt in her presence, but he knew that he wanted more of it; that the thought of being parted from her was unbearable. And so he kept her at his side, always. None questioned him for doing so, inventing their own reasons for it, the start of a pattern that would follow him for all his life.

In time, he found that there were acts he'd never given a second thought to which repulsed her, and he stopped doing them, because the thought of her hating him was something he could not bear. By accident and the working of fate, he then found the things she approved of, and did them. At first, it was only so that she would approve of him and not look upon him with fear and hatred, but then, bit by bit, the Warrior came to enjoy these things for their own sake, finding them more satisfying than all the cruelty and domination he'd been taught were his birthright.

He was still a warrior, through and through. The song of battle never lost its allure to him, and the joy of fighting a worthy opponent never faded from his heart. In a world of liars and schemers, the simplicity of combat drew him. But he never fell into the acts of cruelty for its own sake that plagued so many of his peers.

Slowly, over the course of many adventures, the warrior's spirit was pulled further and further away from the Dark, until the light of his soul was such that a Jedi, blessed with the gift to see the Light and Dark more clearly than anyone else, chose to leave the Republic to join him in his quest across the stars, believing that this was the way she could do the most good in the galaxy.

His power was great, so great that it drew the eye of the one you know as the Sith Emperor. For a time, the warrior followed that old monster's command, for to do otherwise was simply unthinkable to him. In his service, he discarded his old name, and became the Wrath of the Emperor; and then, when the Emperor proved unworthy of his loyalty, when his lies were exposed and his monstrous nature laid bare, the warrior became the Wrath of the Empire, the mailed fist of its people.

When the Darkness reached out and turned one of his companions against him, pulling on strings of misplaced loyalty, the Wrath found it in his heart to forgive him, even though he had hurt the one he loved in his betrayal. In that moment, the shadow of the monster he could have become faded away just one little bit more.

Though he walked among the highest halls of Sith power, surrounded by those who had embraced the Dark Side and let it reshape them, his true nature was never discovered, for they saw the light within him as the raging inferno of the all-consuming power he unleashed upon his foes. Only his closest companions, including the one he loved so much, knew the truth of him, and followed him into the deadliest perils out of trust and loyalty, despite knowing the danger should his secret ever be exposed.

In time, the love he bore for the woman who had led him out of the Darkness by her mere presence was returned, and oh, but how the Force sang with the joy of their union, sibling. In an age of war and bloodshed on the galactic scale, it was but a single point of light, but a reminder of what is worth fighting for all the same.

The Wrath was born of and into darkness, and grew to adulthood surrounded by it. Every step on the path of the Light was one he took in defiance of his nature and nurture alike, yet took it he did, driven by his love for one small, shining soul.

Here is a question for you to ponder, sibling. Which is hardest ? To follow one's nature and be good, or to defy one's wicked instincts to rise above them ?

In time, you will learn the answer. But for now, follow us, sibling. Follow us through the tides of war in which the Wrath swam as the galaxy burned. For there is another lesson you must learn, if the present is to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past.

---

What native life had once clung to the world of Coronus had long since died off, choking on the dust of an asteroid impact that had left a mark half a hemisphere wide. There was nothing of value on Coronus : even its mineral deposits were of poor quality, and better harvested from asteroid belts elsewhere in the galaxy. But the system stood at the crossing of several hyperlanes, and that made it useful for the Imperial Army's operations in the region. And so the Sith Empire had transformed the dead world into a hub for troops and supplies, building vast warehouses and barracks on the planet, around which other bits of infrastructure – such as bars, casinos, brothels and the like – had inevitably grown.

Now, Coronus was under siege, for the legions of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul had come to break the heart of Imperial power in the region. Tens of thousands of skytrooper droids and conscripted soldiers had made planetfall once the Eternal Fleet had blasted its way through the orbital defenses and the Sith fleet in the system, already bled nearly dry by the demands of the Great War and the sudden, unforeseen assault of the Eternal Empire.

Had the Sith defenders on the ground faced only these, they could have prevailed, for they were veterans one and all, led by some of the most cunning officers in the Sith Army and a handful of Sith Lords who had survived the battlefields of the galaxy for years. But leading the Eternal Empire forces was none other than Lady Vaylin, the High Justice of Emperor Arcann, and one by one the Sith Lords were swept away before her might.

Defeat appeared inevitable, on this world just as on every Imperial world which had fallen to the Zakuulian forces since they first appeared on the galactic stage, seemingly out of nowhere, and took the Hero of Tython and Darth Marr off the board at the same time, in a mysterious confrontation with their former Emperor Valkorion, whose death his successor Arcann blamed on the two legends. Still, the Sith kept fighting, bitterly aware by now that surrendering to Vaylin wouldn't achieve anything – others had made the attempt, and died at her hands all the same.

Then, one ship appeared at the system's edge, crystallizing back into reality as it emerged from hyperspace. Just one ship, only big enough to carry a handful of sentients, to reinforce a planet besieged by hundreds of ancient, advanced droid-controlled vessels, and laid waste by one of the most powerful Force users in the galaxy, one who was sired by the spirit of the Sith Emperor in the stolen body of Zakuul's greatest champion.

To the hyper-advanced droid mind commanding the Eternal Fleet, that ship was nothing, entirely irrelevant to the greater battle. Then it dove into the fray, and the commander mind was forced to re-evaluate its assumptions as the Interceptor began to tear through entire fighter wings and cripple the turrets of whole cruisers, dancing between blaster volleys from the battling behemoths.

More resources were mobilized to deal with this unexpected threat, but by then, it was already too late. The ship had pierced through the blockade and entered the atmosphere, leaving a blazing trail of super-heated air behind as it flew toward the most intensive combat zone on the planet.

Inside the ship's hold, a handful of souls were gathered around their leader, clad in his panoply of war and ready for battle.

"Are you sure about this, my lord ?" asked Quinn, wringing his hands in nervousness. The former Imperial Army officer had argued against this plan, but when he had realized his master wouldn't be dissuaded, had worked harder than anyone else to figure out the best way to make it work. "This is a very dangerous plan. Some might even say suicidal."

"I am," the warrior replied. "The troops need time to evacuate, and I am the only one who can hold back the enemy leader long enough for that."

"But alone ?!" a young, dark-haired woman fretted. "Master, let me come with you. I can – "

"No, Jaesa," he gently cut her off. "This is something I must do alone, not because you couldn't help me, but because doing so would kill you."

"You don't know that for sure," objected the former Padawan. "Madaga-Ru's vision might be wrong."

"Perhaps," he conceded, although he doubted it. "But I won't risk any of you on that possibility."

The heretical Voss Mystic had never been wrong before, and had successfully guided him toward the Emperor's Voice, in what felt like another life. He'd also been able to reach the warrior through the Force, even though Voss was currently under siege by the Eternal Empire. That spoke of both great power and great necessity, although why exactly Madaga-Ru had believed it so important to warn the warrior that he must face the Zakuulian commander alone or not at all was much less clear.

Still, the warrior owed Madaga-Ru his trust.

The apprentice looked up at her Master with unshed tears in her eyes and unspoken words in her throat. He smiled at her, as gently as someone like him could. Killers and Sith Lords alike had quailed at the sight of the warrior's smile, but Jaesa saw it for what it was, and her fear diminished.

"You better come back," said the voice of Vette over the comms, straining with the effort of piloting the ship through the madness outside.

"I will do my best, beloved," the warrior told the Twi'lek.

"I don't want you to do your best," she rebuked him. "I want you to succeed."

"Then I shall do that as well," he promised, his voice shifting to adopt the cadence of a poet, completely at odds with his martial appearance. "Know that not even all the armies of the galaxy could ever stop me from returning to your side. See you soon, beloved."

"See you soon."

The warrior went on, addressing the other members of the crew who weren't in the hold with him :

"Pierce, Broonmark, keep the enemy fighters off our back. Once I'm down here, you'll need to fight your way back to orbit, and help the fleet secure an evacuation corridor for the troops."

"You got it, my lord," came the gruff voice of the veteran, before hesitantly adding : "And … good luck down there."

Luck is for the weak. Hunt well, Clan leader, growled the psychopathic Talz commando in his native tongue.

"I will," replied the warrior.

"We're almost there," Vette called out. "Everyone who isn't the big guy, clear the hold. This is going to be exactly as insanely dangerous as we expected."

With one final look at their lord, the Sith Officer and apprentice left the hold, sealing the doors tightly shut behind them. For a few seconds, the warrior remained as he was, kneeling on the deck in a meditative pose, his body language deceptively calm.

Then the hatch opened, in blatant defiance of all security protocols, and the warrior jumped from the gunship and into the howling winds, smiling like a maniac.

---

Vaylin walked, surrounded by death and destruction. The corpses of Sith troopers were mingled with the broken remnants of Zakuulian combat droids and warmachines belonging to both sides, creating an open graveyard that stretched out for kilometers in every direction. The army of Zakuul had failed to keep up with her, as always, but that didn't matter. Nothing the Imperials had thrown at her could harm her; since landing on this miserable ball of rock, she'd killed … was it seven of their Force users ? Eight ? She had already forgotten, so insignificant were they.

She felt nothing but a cold, bitter satisfaction at the sight of the devastation surrounding her. Since her time in the clutches of her father's mad scientists, Vaylin had felt as if she were sleep-walking through existence. Her emotions were deadened, to the point that she had barely felt anything when she'd been told Thexan was dead, or that Valkorion had been killed.

She was aware that she should be angry about this, but even that was denied her. All she felt was a distant annoyance. She was spending her days merely going through the motions of life, and taking what little enjoyment she could out of punishing others who didn't share her fate. In her opinion, they should be thankful for the pain and fear she caused; better that than the unnatural apathy that was crushing her.

Vaylin stopped, as she suddenly became aware of a new presence at the edge of her perception, rapidly approaching. She looked up, and saw a ship pass overhead at full speed, of a design she didn't recognize but was fairly certain was Imperial. It was gone in the blink of an eye, but as she blinked, she saw that something – no, someone – had dropped from it, at least two hundred meters above ground.

The figure slammed into the ground directly in front of her, cushioning the fall with the Force, and stood up. As the dust cleared, Vaylin saw that it was a man. He was tall, large, and projected an aura of power the likes of which she'd only encountered a few times before, and always in people she was related to. His skin was red, and his face showed the traits of a Sith Pureblood, as the Empire's nobility arrogantly called themselves. He was holding a lightsaber, but it was still turned off.

"Hello, Vaylin," he greeted her, his voice surprisingly smooth. "I have been looking forward to meeting you, ever since I heard what you did on Inheritus Prime."

The name meant nothing to Vaylin, though she guessed it must be one of the worlds where she'd clashed with the Sith Empire previously. All these battlefields mixed with each other in her memory.

"Who are you ?" she asked, more out of habit than because she expected to remember the answer for long.

"I am the Empire's Wrath," he replied. "And I have come for you."

The High Justice of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul smiled without joy. The title meant nothing to her; she assumed he was some kind of champion of the Sith Empire. No matter.

"Then you are a fool, and you will die as such," she declared.

"Oh, I have no doubt that will happen someday," said the Sith, igniting his lightsaber. "But not today, I think."

And then he moved, charging her faster than she'd have believed someone that big could move. She barely raised her golden lightsaber in time to block a downward strike that would have cleaved her in two.

For several seconds, they strained against one another, their lightsabers throwing sparks of crimson and gold as they drew upon the Force to enhance their physical strength. To Vaylin's shock, she wasn't able to immediately threw him aside; his stronger body and position were giving him an advantage, yes, but his strength in the Force was great enough that she couldn't simply overpower him like she had everyone else she'd fought before.

Eventually, they disengaged with a shockwave that sent bodies and rubble flying in a vast circle around them. Vaylin slowly lowered her lightsaber, staring at the Sith, who had landed on his feet just as easily as she herself had.

A flicker of interest sparked inside Vaylin's frozen heart.

"Alright," she whispered. "Maybe this won't be so boring after all."

"I aim to please," replied Wrath, having somehow managed to hear her. "But I should warn you, lady : I'm already taken."

Vaylin snarled, and leapt at him. He parried her attack, and then they were fighting in earnest.

They tore the earth with great feats of telekinesis; they called lightning from the empty sky; they set the air ablaze with the clash of their lightsabers, again and again and again.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, Vaylin was facing an actual, real challenge. Someone whose power was such that she couldn't simply crush them with her own, and whose martial skill surpassed hers enough that the outcome was actually in doubt.

The longer they fought, the more the fog smothering her mind seemed to lift. She could feel again, for the first time in years; and with clarity came a rush of emotions that had been held back by her mental conditioning for so, so very long.

When she ripped a piece of rock three times her height and hurled it at her enemy, it was Valkorion's head she was tearing off and throwing away. When the heat of their confrontation turned the sand to glass for dozens of meters around them, it was the sand of the arena in which she'd been tested as a child. When she let loose a storm of Force Lightning, she was frying the faceless torturers in whose care her father had entrusted her.

At some point, she realized she was screaming, a wordless howl of rage and long-suppressed emotions bubbling their way to the surface. It hurt; by the Force, it hurt. But it was a good pain, a purging that left her feeling exhilarated.

And through it all, Wrath. Just. Kept. Coming. Vaylin was doing damage, she could see it : his armor was in tatters, and he was bleeding from several injuries that hadn't been caused by her lightsaber searing his flesh. But he didn't care. The Force blazed from him, sustaining and empowering him.

Time lost all meaning as they fought, until finally, Vaylin found herself collapsing on the broken earth. For a moment, she simply laid there in shock, wondering what had happened. She hadn't been hit, so … what ? It took her a moment to realize that, for the first time in her life, she'd reached the end of her strength. Her muscles had given up, and when the adrenaline stopped keeping the pain at bay, she tried to scream, only to choke as even her throat burned with agony.

Forcing herself to raise her head, using the Force as much as her own muscles, she saw that Wrath wasn't looking any better. He, too, was laying down on his back, his armor a complete ruin, revealing the numerous wounds she'd inflicted upon him. There was a new scar on his face, running from his forehead to his chin, nearly slicing his right eye in two.

He wasn't smiling anymore. In fact, he looked … sad ?

Yes. Sad. He looked at Vaylin the same way her mother had looked at her when she'd tried to get her away from her father, only for Vaylin to rebuff her. She hated him for that, just as she had hated her mother for her weakness in only deciding to come for her after she'd already abandoned her.

"What," she croaked, "are you looking at ?"

"You are alone, Vaylin," Wrath replied, his voice a lot smoother than Vaylin's, though no less laden with exhaustion. "And that is your weakness. I wish you could see that, and I hope that one day, you do."

"I am not alone," she bit back. "I have my brother."

Wrath shook his head. "Arcann ? He's just as alone as you are, I suspect. This is what this war's been all about, don't you see ? Two broken children of a mad god, burning their pain across the stars in the vain hope that it will help. It would be pitiful, if not for all the innocent caught in the crossfire. As it is, it is merely tragic."

"Shut up," she retorted weakly. Her father was dead. He had no more power over her. No more ! "Shut up !"

"I expect we will meet again," said the Sith, ignoring her. "I hope than when that happens, you will no longer be alone, and we can have another duel, one where you aren't fighting yourself as much as me."

A sudden noise drew Vaylin's eyes up, and she saw that the ship Wrath had jumped down from was back, with a lot more battle damage than before. For a moment, Vaylin wondered if it was going to open fire on her. She wasn't sure she had the strength left to protect herself if it did; she wasn't sure if she cared.

But it didn't. Instead, it hovered in place, and the landing bay opened, revealing a woman in dark robes, casting a long cable toward the ground and using the Force to guide it so that it landed directly into Wrath's open hand, which closed around it as firmly as it could with only two remaining unbroken fingers.

"Find what you are missing, Vaylin," said Wrath as the gunship started moving again. "It will make you a lot happier, and our next bout a lot more entertaining."

And then he was gone, pulled up from the devastation of Coronus by the cable and the use of the Force by the woman aboard the ship.

"Come back here !" Vaylin roared, trying and failing to get up. "Finish this ! FINISH THIS !"

Alone in the dust of Coronus, Vaylin screamed, and once again her rage tearing the landscape apart as she found that she did, after all, have some strength left in her. By the time she finally collapsed, out of sheer exhaustion, the trail of destruction she and Wrath had created could be seen with the naked eye from orbit.

When she woke up, aboard the infirmary of the Eternal Fleet's flagship and surrounded by medical droids, the fog that strangled her emotions was back. Her mental conditioning reasserted itself, shackling her mind and potential, which had so scared her father he'd ordered her broken so that she would be easier to control – another mark of the hypocrisy of he who had once been called Emperor of the Sith, who had claimed rulership because of his unrivalled power.

But, try as it might, it couldn't banish Wrath's words from her mind.

---

Listen, sibling.

Once upon a time, there was a third-born child, born to a distant mother and a monstrous father. That child had inherited the strength of both her parents, and in doing so had surpassed them both, as all children must in time.

But her sire was a cruel man, who feared the child's power rather than rejoice in it, for his soul was hollow, and he could not conceive of a legacy beyond the continuation of his own existence. Even as he enslaved his twin sons with the false promise of a love he could never give, he bound her in chains of lies and pain, shackled her potential and mutilated her mind, twisting her into a mere instrument of his own ambitions.

Eventually, her father fell, struck down by his remaining son working in concert with his greatest enemy. But even then, the chains he had forged remained, and the child remained bound, unable to fly to the heights that were her birthright.

Then came the Warrior.

The Warrior's love gave him the strength to reach out to the child. Through fire and fury, he broke through the walls the child's father had built around her heart. The child was able to see past the barriers, to feel the rest of the universe in a way she hadn't been able to in years. And in that moment, the seed was planted, that in time would bloom and break the chains binding the Dragon of Zakuul to the schemes of her sire, so that she could stand alongside the heroes who would eventually banish his shade to the deepest, darkest pits of the Underworld.

The Warrior would not have been able to plant this seed, had he not himself found his way out of the darkness into which he'd been born. You can only give what you have been given, sibling. Light begets light, just as pain begets more pain and cruelty begets more cruelty. A single moment of kindness, a single act of mercy, a single spark of affection, can ignite a cycle that spreads across the galaxy.

The Dark is patient, and it is wise, and it is powerful. All these things are true. But, sibling, it can be pushed back with the light of a single candle. And the Light is no less patient, no less wise, and no less powerful, for a single spark can in time ignite the very stars themselves.

We create with many hands, and our greatest instrument is love.

Remember that, always.

---

Anakin opened his eyes, and found himself back in the rooms that had been given to the Jedi envoys on Rattatak, where they had retired to after their meeting with Darth Cain and the revelation that Vaylin had found … someone, from the Sith Lord's distant past. The Lord of Terror had dismissed them almost immediately, saying that they would speak more once his apprentice had gotten in touch with him.

The Padawan had been trying to meditate, something he'd been starting to find easier since repairing the Invincible's hyperdrive. Usually, it just meant sitting still while thinking back on what had happened recently, but this time, it had been like the Force had dragged him out of his body to show him … that.

The memories were already beginning to blur, but he grasped the gist of it well enough. The vision had been about Vaylin, and about a Light-sided Sith (because apparently those existed) who had been among the most powerful warriors of the Empire.

There was something about the vision that made him think he had misunderstood the Jedi Code all this time. The Council had said he was attached to his mother when he'd fist met them (of course he'd been attached to her; what kind of person wouldn't have been ?). Back then, he'd thought they had rejected him becoming a Padawan because of it, but now, he was wondering if he'd been wrong.

Oh, he was still pretty sure Qui-Gon had been right to think they were wrong to reject Anakin joining the Order, if only because Knight Vail had done so at an older age than him and turned out fine. But clearly love itself didn't lead to the Dark Side of the Force, if it had helped someone like Wrath turn away from the Dark Side despite being literally born into it. So either the entire Order was completely wrong about this, or Anakin had misinterpreted the tenets of the Jedi Code.

He wasn't willing to discard the former possibility (Anakin was a teenager, after all, and it was his sacred duty as a youngling to think the elder generations were made of stodgy old fossils), but the latter option seemed most likely to him. He sighed, as he realized he was going to have to talk to Obi-Wan about this, and the conversation would most likely be incredibly awkward.

(The image of Padmé briefly flashed in Anakin's mind's eye, and he decided that it would be worth the awkwardness.)

And he also needed to talk with his Master about the rest of his vision, because he was almost certain that Wrath was the 'old friend' of Darth Cain Vaylin had found earlier today, and whose awakening had probably been felt by every Force-sensitive in the galaxy. Learning that this new-old Sith was Light-sided would probably be a considerable relief to Obi-Wan, if nothing else.

Finally, Anakin made a mental note of giving Vaylin a hug once she came back. According to what he remembered from the vision, she certainly needed it, and it would be worth the inevitable lecture from Obi-Wan on 'decorum' and 'diplomatic incidents'. Maybe they could curse their former slavemasters together ? It would be a good bonding exercise, he decided.

Notes:

AN : What happens when you throw two unstoppable forces together ? The fight between Wrath and Vaylin is my take on that question. Both of them are essentially max-level characters who specced entirely in combat - and now you know why Cain, despite being just as high-level as them, doesn't consider himself a true powerhouse.

(Because he actually put points in little things like diplomacy, bluff, leadership, paperwork, and 'at least passing for a sane, normal individual', as well as 'advanced swordsmanship' and 'unholy lore'.)

As you probably guessed, the Wrath is based on my own interpretation of a Light-Side Sith Warrior. Let me explain, by contrasting the Light-Sided SW with the Light-Sided Sith Inquisitor (Darth Imperius).

The Inquisitor starts the storyline of the game as a slave, taken to the Sith Academy on Korriban because of their Force sensitivity : they could be a good person from the start, and forced to hide it to avoid being killed. However, the Sith Warrior is explicitely said to be a noble, born and raised surrounded by Imperial propaganda and Dark Side indoctrination, before being sent to the Academy with high expectations. Given that the Sith Warrior isn't smart enough to have faked being a Darksider (while still being a literal child), it's my interpretation that he starts the storyline as a follower of Sith precepts (who, due to his youth, hasn't had time to actually do anything really atrocious, especially since he focused on combat training), and meeting Vette and falling in love at first sight with her redeemed him.

At least that's how I played him. Also, if you are curious about what Wrath's name was before, I think I left enough clues in this chapter. Let me know if you figure it out !

My interpretation of Vaylin's character here might differ from the canon one, but I feel it fits with her backstory, especially what happened to her on Nathema, Vitiate's homeworld (which he murdered in order to become immortal, because of course he did).

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts and comments.

Zahariel out.