3.20 Tremors of the Ancient Past 5

  … …

  "You are certain this object is what you believe it is?"

  I turned to Dooku, not lifting my hand from the surface of the Infinite Engine as we stood in the hangar bay that had become our base camp on Dromund Kaas. The metal beneath my palm thrummed with ancient power—a deep, resonant vibration that seemed to pulse in rhythm with something far older than any heartbeat. It had taken considerable work to extract the large, spherical object from the storeroom within the Emperor's Chambers and transport it here. The majority of that had involved me ripping the walls, doors, and anything else that stood in the path from that room to a small, private hangar through which the Emperor or his Voice could travel between the Citadel and the Imperial Palace, or even elsewhere on the planet.

  Durasteel had shrieked as I tore through it. Ancient stone had groaned and crumbled. The Dark Side had whispered its approval with every obstacle I annihilated, feeding on the destruction like a beast gorging itself on fresh meat.

  I'd then had to lift it with the Force and keep it airborne as the Vhett slowly flew from that hangar—which it couldn't enter as it was far too large to do so—and carried me back to our base camp. That had been far harder than I'd expected, even taking into consideration that the Engine fought my control over it. Every meter of that journey had been a battle of wills, the Engine straining against my telekinetic grip like a wild beast testing the strength of its chains.

  Like items such as lightsaber crystals, the Engine had a presence in the Force and had ownership/loyalty to individuals. A little unsurprisingly, the loyalty of the Engine was still majorly focused on Revan. Specifically, it was Darth Revan, as that was how Observe listed him there. The Mantle of the Force crystal had listed him as Revan, as had the Heart of the Guardian. That distinction—the Dark Lord's title attached to the name—sent a shiver of something that wasn't quite unease down my spine.

  That crystal had been an unexpected find within Vitiate's private chambers in the Imperial Palace, and one that I had finally decided on what to do with. That, however, could wait for the moment.

  "It is," I replied to my former Master, the smile on my face the same one that had come forth once Observe had confirmed the Infinite Engine was what I expected. The expression felt almost foreign on my features after so long on this shadow-drenched world, but I couldn't suppress it. "From what I've learnt from Vitiate's private archives, this item was located on Nar Shaddaa under the protection of machines and caretakers that Revan, while he was a Sith Lord, left to protect it. I admit I haven't read all of what Vitiate recorded about the device, nor found a supposed journal from Revan detailing the uses of the device, but what is clear is that it was a small part taken from the Star Forge."

  "Small?" Dooku's voice carried the aristocratic scepticism I'd come to know so well—a single word weighted with the expectation of elaboration.

  I chuckled, the sound echoing strangely in the vast hangar where shadows pooled in distant corners beyond the reach of our emergency lighting. The air tasted of ancient machinery and something else—something that prickled at the edges of my Force senses like static electricity. "Well, it was small when Revan took the piece, I'd assume. The Imperial records stated it was perhaps about a metre across when it was taken from the Hutt world. There is a mention of there being aliens left to guard it, supposedly they worshipped Revan and gave their dead to the device to help power it so that they could live in secure isolation." My fingers traced along a hairline seam in the Engine's surface, feeling the power pulse beneath like blood through veins of cold metal.

  "An isolation, I am to assume, that the Sith ended?"

  "Aye," I replied with a nod, my jaw tightening at the implications contained in those sparse historical records. "The records are brief on the matter, but it's implied they were all killed—every last one of them, down to the children if they had any. Still, the location of this enclave is listed in the record kept by Imperial Intelligence. I plan to travel there and seek out this enclave. If there is another Engine, or a part of it there, then I'll be taking it. I won't allow power such as that to simply lie around waiting for some fool to stumble upon but have no understanding of the potential they'd discovered."

  The Interface had offered a quest to head to Nar Shaddaa and determine if there was another Engine there or not. I'd not yet taken the quest, but, given it was only B-rated and held three objectives, I suspected I would accept it once we left Dromund Kaas. The objectives were simple enough. First, I had to locate the enclave, or the ruins of it if it had already been destroyed. Second, if there was an Engine there, choose to destroy it, merge it with the one before me, or claim it as a second Engine to use. The last option involved ensuring the enclave, if it still existed, was destroyed so that no one else might learn of the Engine's existence unless I informed them of it, as I had done with Dooku and the others.

  "If there had been such a device found on Nar Shaddaa, then the Jedi would've been made aware of its existence," Dooku pondered as I heard him move closer, his boots clicking against the hangar floor with precise, measured steps. "Normally, they would seek to secure Dark Side artefacts within the secure vaults in the Temple. However, there was no mention of a device such as this in the records I downloaded before we left the Order."

  "No, which is why I suspect this is all there is of the Engine," I stated, my hands slowly moving over the surface of the device, feeling the texture under my fingertips while my mind brushed against the power that broadcast from it like a beacon of power that outshone anything around it. The sensation was intoxicating—like standing too close to a roaring fire, feeling the heat lick at your skin while knowing that one step closer would mean immolation. It certainly outshone everything else if one understood the potential of the Engine as I did. "And why this alone means our explorations here could be considered successful."

  "This is not the Star Forge, Cameron," Dooku warned, having an inkling of my thoughts about the Engine. His voice carried that particular tone he reserved for tempering my more ambitious inclinations—the voice of a Master who had seen enthusiasm unchecked lead to disaster too many times. "At this size, it is of little use to anyone as a manufacturing facility or space station."

  "I'm aware of that, Master," I replied with a smirk, my fingers continuing to explore the surface of the device. The metal—if it could truly be called metal—was warm to the touch despite the chill of the hangar, as if something lived within it. "However, it has grown to this size while in what I'm certain was a powered-down mode. The Imperial scientists who examined it lacked an understanding of how to harness its power. They poked and prodded at it like children examining a sleeping krayt dragon, never realising what they held."

  "You believe you know how to do that?"

  "Perhaps." I turned to face him as he came to stand at my side, his presence in the Force as controlled and precise as a vibroblade held steady—not threatening, but unmistakably capable of becoming so. "The Force… the Dark Side glows within this creation. It is a fragment of something the Rakata used to dominate the galaxy. While I'm uncertain of how easy it will be to unlock, if it can be done, then we could be looking at something capable in time of producing fleets of warships and fighters so that when war comes to the galaxy, we have the resources to stand against the Sith as they act as puppet masters of a war designed to see them take over the galaxy."

  Dooku was silent beside me, his gaze on the Engine. I could feel his mind reaching out, brushing against the presence of the Engine, trying to get the measure of this device. His probe was delicate, refined—the touch of a master surgeon rather than a brute forcing his way in. I'd done the same when I'd first confirmed the Engine was what I hoped it to be.

  Part of me had been concerned about finding another item, along with the Heart of the Guardian crystal, that linked me to Revan. Or more accurately, Darth Revan. If I had found this before, I'd meditated on the reveal that Vitiate was in some way my father, I suspected I'd have recoiled in shock and perhaps fear at the presence of the Engine. If not, avoid seeking it out at all. The weight of that lineage—two of the most powerful and terrible Dark Lords in galactic history flowing through my veins—would have crushed me before I'd learned to carry it.

  That, however, hadn't been the case, and when I'd found it I had come to terms—at least for the most part, as I knew I still needed to meditate further on my lineages—who I was and who I came from. I might have connections to Revan and Vitiate, but I was not a continuation of their legacies. Others might think that as I rose in power, but I knew the truth. My path was mine and mine alone. I was not seeking to take over the Republic as Revan had attempted, nor destroy it and replace it with a Sith empire that worshipped me as Vitiate had intended. No, I would break the cycle between the Jedi and Sith and usher in a new era for the galaxy, and with the Engine at my command, the odds of my success had risen dramatically.

  "Even if you can unlock the Engine, it will take years to grow to a useful size," Dooku commented as he pulled his thoughts back from the Engine, his presence withdrawing like a wave retreating from shore. "To say nothing of the fact that as it grows, there exists the chance that someone might discover it, and learning of what it is doing and can potentially do, alert others."

  "I don't intend to deploy it in the Core, Master," I replied with a smirk that I knew bordered on insufferable. "Nor within Mandalorian space," I added quickly, shutting down what he would likely believe was my intention. "What I need is to locate a world away from even minor shipping routes. One rich in stellar material without being somewhere anyone would seek to travel willingly."

  "There are a great many such systems in the galaxy. Many, however, are contested over ownership, while others are havens for pirates, slavers and their ilk." He paused, his hand coming up to stroke his beard—a gesture he retained even after leaving the Order. Much to my annoyance, as it reminded me of how much of the Jedi still clung to him despite his departure. "That said, I believe it should be possible for you to acquire the rights to a system. It would not come cheap, as even an undeveloped system on the edge of the Outer Rim or Wild Space still has considerable value, but the possibility is there." His eyes shifted to the Engine, dark and calculating. "That is provided you are able to first gain control of the Engine and then, however it is done, convince the device to accelerate its growth."

  "I'm aware, Master. However, you cannot deny the potential that exists with the Engine once we have it deployed with orders to grow. Where even the shipyards of Kuat and Corellia take years or decades to craft the largest warships, the Engine would one day be capable of doing so inside months, if not quicker." The words tasted like possibility on my tongue—like the first breath of air after nearly drowning.

  "It is dangerous to place all your hopes in one plan, Cameron, but I am certain you are aware of that." I lowered my head, confirming the point. The weight of his wisdom pressed down on my enthusiasm like a steady hand on an overexcited hound. "However, I will not deny that the… potential the Engine represents is one worthy of considerable effort to unlock." He took a step back, the slightest hint of a smile flickering against his lips like lightning on a distant horizon. "I suspect that you wish to unlock that potential yourself; however, if you wish for assistance, I would be willing to provide it."

  I bowed to him, the gesture carrying genuine respect rather than mere formality. "Thank you, Master," I responded, letting a smile come to my face. "I know that when the time comes to unlock the Engine, I will require more than the power I can call forth, to say nothing of the singular dedication and focus such an endeavour would require. When the time comes, your help shall be the first I seek out."

  Dooku nodded, accepting my praise without comment—as was his way. He then, after giving the Engine one last look that carried the weight of assessment and calculation, turned and walked away. I watched, with a hint of amusement, as he headed towards the Ascendant Spear. That was, according to the ship's records, the name of the more regal-looking Sith vessel we'd located in the hangar. With the Star Blade flight-capable—well, at least atmospheric flight-capable—Anakin had shifted his attention to the Spear.

  The Spear continued to remind me of Padmé's Royal Cruiser, all elegant curves and aristocratic lines that seemed designed to impress as much as to function. Once we departed the system, I'd have to speak with her about getting the company that outfitted her starship to update the hull of the Spear. Unlike the Royal Cruiser, the Spear came outfitted with weaponry. While that, along with many of the systems, according to Anakin, needed updating, Dooku had already expressed a desire to have the vessel remain armed. He was not a peace-loving fool like the Naboo were, and while he would prefer not to engage in starship combat, would not leave himself defenceless.

  I realised that perhaps I was being too harsh on the Naboo, as while the Royal Cruiser and ships from before the Invasion remained unarmed when I had last spoken to Padmé, she had made clear that the next generation of Nabooian vessels would have ways to protect themselves. That was encouraging to hear and a major—for Naboo and Padmé—deviation from the other timeline. The Naboo weren't moving as fast as I'd like away from the peace-at-all-costs insanity that had seen their world targeted—or at least that was the public reason for why Naboo had been invaded—but they were moving. Baby steps, perhaps, but steps nonetheless.

  Turning back to the Engine, I considered the device with fresh eyes. According to Observe, the creation was still dominantly loyal to Revan. Sixty-eight per cent, according to my power—a number that glowed in my mind's eye like a challenge waiting to be overcome. The rest, at least what was mentioned, went to a handful of Sith. Two of the names I recognised from Vitiate's records on the Engine, but the rest were unknown—ghosts from an era long turned to dust. To have the Engine at my command, I would need to repeat the process I carried out before on the Mantle of the Force and a few other Force-attuned items. Something I knew was going to take considerable time to achieve. Once obtained, having the Engine at my command—even in its current state and at its current dimensions—unlocked doors I hadn't realised had existed before its discovery.

  … …

  … …

  I lifted my head, opening the door to my cabin aboard the Vhett with a gesture as I sensed Anakin approaching. His presence in the Force blazed like a small sun—impossible to miss, impossible to ignore. I laughed as he stood on the other side of the door, hand raised to rap the door as it slid back with a soft hiss.

  "I hate when you do that," he muttered as he lowered his arm rather impotently, his expression souring into the familiar scowl of youthful indignation.

  "Which is why I do it, An'ika," I replied, using the Mando'a nickname Bo had come up with for him. Anakin scowled deeper as he stepped into my cabin, his dislike at the nickname clear to see and even clearer to sense within the Force—a brief flare of annoyance that was almost endearing in its predictability. "Take a seat," I added, gesturing to the bed as I sat in the only chair in the cabin.

  I watched as he did so, his eyes lingering on my lightsaber as it lay on the small table between my chair and the bed, the various components disassembled and the four crystals I use inside the emitter at the centre. An intentional arrangement for Anakin, as placing them like that wasn't how I usually placed them whenever I disassembled the handle. The crystals caught the dim cabin lighting and scattered it in four different ways—cyan, bronze, the deep crimson of my synthetic crystal, and the pale silver of another.

  Technically, there was no reason for me to take the hilt apart, and with the latches securing the beskar coating over the hilt and tooth that formed the true hilt of the blade, it was a pain to do so. However, it was a habit I'd carried over from my former life. Disassembling, cleaning, and then reassembling a weapon was something I found soothing, even when, in the case of a lightsaber, it served no purpose, as it didn't need cleaning the same way other weapons did. The ritual of it—the meditation in motion—helped centre my thoughts in ways that simply sitting and reaching for the Force never quite matched.

  Anakin's eyes drifted to the components of my lightsaber again as he sat on the bed, and I felt my smile grow. His fascination was palpable, radiating through the Force like heat from an open flame.

  "Don't get any ideas," I commented with a good-natured chortle.

  "I… I wouldn't," Anakin blurted out, his voice carrying the hollow ring of unconvincing denial. "It's just… every time I see you or the others with your hilts, I get a little jealous. I mean, I know I have this," He tapped the hilt that rested at his hip, indicating the shoto blade I'd had him carrying ever since I'd allowed him to come on this mission. Even with him never moving around alone, I wasn't letting him do so without a weapon designed for a Force user. "But it's not mine."

  "Do you think you're ready to find a crystal for yourself?" I asked gently, keeping my voice carefully neutral. Perhaps one day he would craft a crystal in the manner I had; however, his control over his emotions was far from advanced enough to even consider it, and that was before contemplating the inherent danger of attempting to dominate the Force for however long it took to craft a crystal. The process had nearly killed me, and I'd had advantages Anakin couldn't yet claim.

  Interestingly, Dooku retained the same crystal that he had used while a Jedi. I hadn't probed about his thoughts on crafting a new crystal, nor would I, but I did often wonder if he would ever make that choice. It would, at least to me, be the final step in severing his connections with the Order and embarking on a new path. However, given it had been not been much more than a month since we'd left the Order, it wasn't unexpected that he had yet to decide to destroy that last link to his past.

  "Yes." Anakin's reply came quickly—too quickly—making my brow rise. "I mean, I'm not ready to do whatever it was you did to make that one," he gestured at the small artificial crystal I'd crafted, the deep crimson one that seemed to drink in light rather than reflect it, "but I think I'm ready to go to claim one for myself."

  "And where do you expect to find this crystal?"

  The boy blinked, shifting his gaze from me to the four crystals on the table. "I… I don't know. Ilum is where you and Master Dooku got your crystals, but that was when you were a Jedi. I'm not one nor do I want to be," he added with a touch more certainty than I'd expected, not that I was complaining. The conviction in his voice was a balm to concerns I hadn't fully acknowledged. "But I feel ready to craft a blade for myself."

  I nodded at his words, letting them settle in the air between us. Instead of replying to him, however, I reached over and picked up one of the crystals from my lightsaber. The crystal had a natural hue of cyan, and as I turned it over in my palm, it caught the light and scattered it like frozen starlight across the cabin walls. Anakin's breath caught.

  "That's the Mantle of the Force," he replied slowly, a hint of reverence in his tone that bordered on worship. "One of two crystals that were linked to Revan." His gaze shifted to me, and he offered a smirk, though it was tinged with a hint of annoyance. "You've told me that story many times."

  "That I have," I agreed with a chuckle even as my fingers turned the small crystal over in my hand, feeling its warmth against my skin—a warmth that had nothing to do with body heat and everything to do with the Force contained within. "For the longest time, I wondered if I was worthy of using this crystal. If my great-grandfather would deem me suitable to continue his legacy, and what I might do if I ever found this crystal's twin." I held the crystal up, letting it catch the light from the ceiling, and shook my head slowly. "However, over the last few days… well, I've come to realise that my legacy is not linked to his. My path is mine and mine alone. I'm not defined by my ancestors. Only the actions I take, and the desire and will I display to make the future I wish to create."

  "I want to help you." I looked at Anakin again, my palm closing over the Mantle to keep it secure. Something in his voice had shifted—steel sliding beneath silk, determination crystallising into something harder. "I mean, beyond getting revenge for my mother. I want… I want to kill the Hutts. Not just Decca but all of them. Them and every other slaver in the galaxy."

  I blinked, a little taken aback by Anakin's words. The vehemence behind them was palpable—a cold fire burning in the Force around him that I could feel pressing against my senses. I'd known he'd held anger towards slavers for a long time, and that it had coalesced around Decca after the death of Shmi. This was the first time, however, when he'd extended that anger to others. At least beyond Decca, Gardulla, and Jabba.

  What made it more interesting was that not only did Anakin speak with certainty, but there was no hesitation radiating from him within the Force. Only single-minded certainty—the kind that could move mountains or bring them crashing down on the innocent and guilty alike. Part of me wondered if Dromund Kaas and the strength of the Dark Side here were responsible for this shift. That it had twisted his young mind, as it had tried to do with mine, so that his darker impulses had grown stronger. The planet's influence was insidious, seeping into thoughts like poison into groundwater.

  I closed my eyes and reached out for Anakin through the Force. There was a moment where he resisted my probe—a flash of anger rising within him that bore the cold, focused rage of a winter storm. One that had my mind picturing Vader for a split second—the mask, the breathing, the terrible crimson blade cutting through all that stood in its path.

  I dismissed that image with an effort of will and concentrated on my Anakin, extending my control over the Force to assure him that I meant no harm.

  The anger faded almost as quickly as it had emerged, but it was something I'd have to note. The rage and fear that had given rise to Vader in the other timeline were a part of my Anakin. While he hadn't endured the same amount of time as a slave as he had in the other timeline, he had still been born into chains. He had still lost his mother—this time because of the actions of a Hutt instead of Tusken Raiders. Worse, he had been there when it happened, had watched the light leave her eyes while blood pooled beneath her broken body. Something that no doubt fuelled the occasional sense of ineptitude and weakness I felt swell within him.

  As he let me in—not that his barriers could keep me out currently, though I'd never smash through them unless with no other alternative—I felt the fire that burned at his core. The rising heat and divine retribution that he wished to unleash on those who'd hurt him and his family blazed like a star going nova in slow motion. The spark that made him willing to push himself beyond his limits to help others, but also left him susceptible to exploitation by those who could slide into his life as a friend, confidant, or family member and use it to manipulate him. Something I often asked myself if I was doing to him, given the choices I'd made for him without consulting him.

  There was hatred in those flames, though it wasn't uncontrolled nor at risk of consuming him and dragging him into the depths of the Dark Side, where he'd lose himself and become little more than a mindless beast attacking anything and everything that got in his way. That was a relief, as I often wondered if it was in a moment such as that where he had lashed out at Padmé—the very person in the other timeline he'd been trying to save. The vision of his mechanical hand closing around her throat haunted me in ways I rarely acknowledged.

  The images of the Hutts, formed in the flames of Anakin's soul, along with those of others who were clearly slavers and the like, appeared before they were consumed by his rage. However, for every image that was destroyed, another rose to take its place—an endless tide of hate objects that could never truly be sated. A concerning sight if I wasn't careful with how I approached his earlier comment.

  Opening my eyes, I looked at him and sighed. “Your goals are admirable, Anakin; I won’t challenge you on that.” I leaned closer, my hand closing tighter over the Mantle. “However, for every slaver we take down, for every starship they use to attack others, or station or port where these monsters buy and sell others like bantha, another will rise in its place.”

  “Then we kill them as well.” The response came fast and with conviction. Perhaps too much, suggesting his emotions were leading his reasoning, or that the Force on this world was starting to affect him without him realising.

  I sighed, and with my free hand, pinched the bridge of my nose. “Anakin,” I began softly. “I’m not saying that those who engage in slavery, or other crimes of such nature, deserve mercy. It’s just…” I shook my head and sighed again. This was not how I’d expected this conversation to go, but I had to address the matter now so it couldn’t fester in his mind any longer. The more time he focused on this need for revenge against every slaver, the more the whispers of the Dark Side would find purchase within his thoughts and twist his mind into something I didn’t want it to become.

  “They deserve to die.”

  “They do,” I agreed as I found the path I wanted to take to try to refocus Anakin’s rage more constructively. “At least those who cannot change.” I saw the wrinkling of his brow and felt a flare of anger at the idea I might be suggesting not all slavers deserved death.

  “Anakin!” My tone was hard, and I pushed out my presence into the Force, burning away the echoes in the Dark Side that I knew were encouraging his rage. They would not claim him. Not while I still lived. “Listen to yourself! You’re saying that children of slavers, those who know no other way but owning others because their parents do so, deserve to die! That entire cultures need to be exterminated because they once engaged in slavery, or something as vile.”

  His mouth opened, no doubt to fire off a response, but my hand came up, and I grasped the Force around me, letting some of my control and power fill the room. The air from his breath became visible as I glared at him, though a moment later, he blinked, and I felt his rage settle.

  “Let me explain,” I said gently, though the way I was dominating the Force, that governance extending to the air around us, made clear I wouldn’t tolerate any dissension. “Many species have, in the past, in part or as a whole, engaged in slavery. Some still do, and those we’ll come back to in a moment. However, many no longer do. Are we to punish them for the actions of the past? Are we to make those alive today, regardless of whether their families benefited or not from actions hundreds or thousands of years ago, pay penance or even be killed for something they didn’t do?” I shook my head as I continued. “That is not the path of vengeance. It is not the path of justice or honour. It is the path that sees you become the very thing you wish to destroy.”

  “Now, there are some who wouldn’t mind that. They would say that those alive today, whether they gained anything directly or indirectly from slavery, should be held accountable. That they should be made to pay, be that with credits, loss of status on their worlds and within their cultures, or even with their death. Such people are not just or honourable. They simply seek to replace what no longer is with a system that benefits them.

  “Such beings would seek to strike at any who might suggest they are becoming the very thing they hate, or that those who disagree as sympathetic to the crimes of the past or might wish to carry them out today. That logic is, shabyr di’kutla! It’s so retarded that such people either need common sense kicked into them, or they need to be removed from society as much as slavers and their ilk!”

  I took a breath, calming my emotions as they had begun to slip into my words. “Such people exist, Anakin, and it is hard to remove those who shout the loudest about perceived injustices easily. They fail to accept that they could be wrong, or that their ideals need altering. They are inflexible and stubborn, unwilling or unable to see the truth that their actions only make things worse for the majority while they push the will of a small minority on everyone.”

  “There are others who agree with those ideals of restitution via the creation of a new form of slavery in another name, but don’t care one way or the other. They exploit every system to gain power and influence without a care for those they crush under their heel. These beings will corrupt any idea if it can benefit them, which often leads to issues far worse than what they had once been.”

  “We can look at the Pius Dea era of the Old Republic as an example of all this. They didn’t outright engage in slavery, but those in the Core worlds, humans mainly, looked down on anyone from the Rim. They then came to believe, over time, as the loudest, most twisted voices rose in volume, that any race other than Human was somehow less and unworthy. That the aliens were responsible for the failings of the Republic back then. However, instead of simply enslaving the aliens, those voices wanted the matter to be taken further and decided to attempt to exterminate entire races, even those that had only ever been exploited by others, such as Twi’leks.”

  “A more current example would be the Zygerrians. Until a few hundred years ago, they had an empire that ran on slave labour. Today, they don’t engage in slavery. Or at least the royal family and others outlaw it, and, as I know from personal interaction with them, are working to eradicate the elements in their culture that still engage in slavery, through the concept of indentured servitude or exploitative contracts that the workers cannot escape.”

  “That’s still slavery!”

  “It is,” I agreed with a sad smile. “However, legally, to many, including many of the most powerful in the Republic, it’s perfectly fine. Not just because it happens in the Outer Rim, but because they benefit from it. Chom Frey Taa, until recently the Senator from Ryloth, was engaged in slavery via the use of drugs to make anyone forced to take them forget who they were. If not for what happened with Quinlan and Aayla – who was enslaved by her own uncle – this would’ve continued.”

  “How can the Republic let that happen?!” Anakin snapped, his anger rising again, though this time I sensed it was more focused, if still lacking the control I would prefer to see him deploy. Something that had happened on occasion while we were on this world.

  “As I said, there are those with power who don’t care about others, who only seek to increase their influence and wealth. Now, for some species and cultures, that is how they simply are. It is a part of their existence. The Hutts and Neimoidians are two such examples of this. Yet while the Hutts remain outside the Republic, often disparaged and ostracised because they openly engage in slavery and other illegal activities, the Neimoidians believe that anyone and everyone is there to be exploited, even their family units, and that nothing is, based on how we define it, immoral. Yet the Neimoidians are members of the Republic and control many vast conglomerations such as the Trade Federation.”

  “Yes, the Federation wasn’t originally a Neimoidian creation and had been created to counter the issues of earlier mega-corporations unfairly dominating trade in the Outer Rim. That it had, over a few hundred years, then become the very thing it was created to prevent was ironic but entirely unsurprising.”

  “While it is not a part of the culture, there have been Mando’ade who were slavers. Our culture thrives on battle; on testing ourselves in the crucible of combat. When slaves rose against their masters and fought alongside us, they were adopted into our ways, often, in time, becoming Mando’ade themselves. Yet to some, those who had been enslaved weren’t worthy of being considered sentient, and thus were treated as little more than simple beasts to be exploited and then killed once their purpose ended.”

  “But… but that’s not what Bo and the others told me.”

  I chuckled. “Every culture has its flaws, An’ika. None of them, no matter how noble and honourable they might be now, formed that way. It is the very fact that we all evolved on a myriad of worlds from an almost uncountable number of beasts that has us establish structures. Those who have power and wield it rise to the top.”

  “At first, that was literal strength along with intelligence and bravery. Over time, however, those warriors were replaced by those who, while still intelligent, lacked the physical strength to fight on a battlefield or the courage to stand by a conviction in the face of insurmountable odds. Those beings crafted laws that were designed to help society. Yet over time, things changed, and beings learnt how to exploit the system, using it however they could.”

  “For some, they retained a sense of honour and morals, but many didn’t. Thus, when the Republic outlawed slavery, it left loopholes in place that could be exploited. Loopholes that over time have grown wider to the point that even on the Jewel of the Core, even within a few hours of the Senate or the Jedi Temple, you can find people in slavery.”

  “You’ve told me this before,” he muttered, some of his anger fading away as I spoke. “It’s why you left the Order.”

  “Aye, it was part of it,” I replied, “and yes, I’ve said this to you before. However, it seems a reminder is needed because you speak of killing everyone who enslaves others without understanding that that will accomplish nothing without the system that enables them to be shattered. Whether that means systems inside the Republic or beyond it.”

  “The Hutts aren’t part of the Republic, but they have power over it,” Anakin offered. “Tatooine isn’t in their space, but Jabba and Gardulla control it.”

  “They do, because, to the vast majority of the galaxy, Tatooine and the hundreds, if not thousands, of planets like it simply don’t matter. Not enough for those in the corridors of power, be that in the sectors near Hutt Space, right into the Senate itself, to risk the credits they receive for looking the other way and ignoring the decay. So long as they can exploit the system to make their lives better and get away with it without fear or repercussions, they will.”

  Anakin frowned as I finished, his rage now focused internally, as if using it to seek a solution to the problem I’d just laid out. Which, while not where I’d expected my little speech to lead, wasn’t a bad thing to see. I was curious if he would begin to understand, or at least gain a clearer comprehension, of why I had chosen the path I was walking.

  “Then after we kill the Hutts and others, we still have to deal with the Republic,” Anakin stated slowly, as if the idea was one still-forming in his mind. “But to do that, we need help.” His head lifted, and he looked at me. “Bo’s right. You have to become Mand'alor.”

  “Perhaps,” I replied, hiding my pleasure that he was beginning to see that my choice in leaving the Order extended beyond a personal disagreement with them over their direction and the Force. “However, that is a discussion we can have later, once you’ve had more time to think. Not just on how to deal with Decca, Gardulla, Jabba, and the other Hutts, but slavers in general. For now, let’s return to this.”

  I opened my fist, drawing his eyes back to the Mantle of the Force. “You mentioned that this was part of a pair linked to Revan.” I paused there, letting him take over.

  “The other was the Heart of the Guardian,” he said as I spoke. “It was claimed that he had both in his lightsaber, though how and where he gained them wasn’t clear.” He smirked as if remembering something. “Did he really buy them from a merchant in the Yavin system?”

  I laughed. “HK swears that’s the truth,” I replied, shifting the blame for that fact to the droid. He was, after all, my ‘source’ for the extra Revan lore in the Knights of the Old Republic series I’d written. “Regardless of where he found them, there were two crystals. The Mantle’s been with me for a while now, and for a long time, I had hoped to find the Heart and add it alongside its partner; to take my place as Revan’s successor. However, that goal… well, I’m not sure I ever could’ve achieved it even if I’d been the perfect Jedi.”

  “So, what will you do when you find it?”

  “When, not if?” I asked back, amused at the certainty he had that I’d locate the crystal, not knowing I already had it in my possession.

  Anakin smiled. “Cam, whenever you plan to do something, you do it. Maybe not right away, but you do it. It’s something I want to learn to do.”

  I chuckled at his words, dismissing the slight hint of hero-worship in them along with the extra filling for my ego. That was something I wished to remain generally unfulfilled. At least while we were on Dromund Kaas. “That’s not something you can learn, Anakin. It’s just something that’s a part of you, which it is.” I leaned forward, closing my fist around the Mantle again, bar one finger I used to tap him on his chest, over his heart. “You already showed that with the Trandoshans. You didn’t think, you didn’t wonder, you did what you could to save those with you. Yes, some of them died,” I continued before he could offer his standard counter, “however, that’s not on you. You were placed into a situation you weren’t ready for and did everything you could, even risking your life, to protect others. That is the mark of one who can shape the galaxy. The mark of a true warrior.”

  His smile, which had faded at the reminder of the Trandoshans, returned slightly even as my free hand reached into my belt.

  “It’s also,” I continued, “why I’m giving you this.”

  I opened my other hand, showing him the small bronze crystal in my palm.

  Anakin stared at the crystal for a moment, and then his jaw loosened, forcing his mouth to open slightly as he inhaled sharply. I felt the shock and surprise radiating off him in uncontrolled waves as his gaze rose to meet mine. “Is that…?”

  “The Heart of the Guardian,” I confirmed. “I found it within the Emperor’s private quarters. It seems that after capturing Revan, he had Revan’s lightsaber taken apart. The Mantle was with Bastila, though it passed to my mother before she left it for me. The Heart was in that blade, and Vitiate kept it in his private domain, as a trophy, I suspect.” I extended my arm towards him, the palm open and the crystal just resting there. “I’m not Revan, nor am I here to continue his legacy. No, I want to create something new, and I plan to do that with you at my side.” He looked at me, as if uncertain of what to do. “You fight to protect those in need and will do everything you can to protect them. The very definition of guardian, which is why I’m offering this to you. Not as my son or apprentice, but as my friend. The question you now face is if you think you’re ready to take this and help me reshape the galaxy.”

  … …

  … …

  I read the Vhett’s sensors as I angled her towards what had once been the private landing pad at a Sith Academy. There had been several on Dromund Kaas and, after learning of them, an objective had been added to the quest for this adventure, requiring us to visit and scout them out.

  Each exploration offered only a small amount of XP, at least relative to the initial objectives of the quest, but with the reward of doubling any XP earned on the planet waiting for me once the quest was complete, and the fact that, so far, nothing had been a true waste of time in the half a month we’d spent on the world made me willing to at least explore a few of the academies. This one was the first. For today only, Maul, HK, and I would be heading here.

  Anakin was staying behind, working diligently with R2 and Simvyl to continue getting the Ascendant Spear working. The Starblade was atmospheric-capable, and Maul had taken several flights in it, sometimes with Anakin along to monitor the systems. Any time my Apprentice had gone with Maul, HK had also been present. I felt certain Maul wouldn’t attempt to abscond with Anakin, not least as the Starblade’s hyperdrive wasn’t yet completed, but I wasn’t going to blindly trust the former assassin of Darth Sidious. At least not until this quest was over and I could see what changes to my standing with him it brought about.

  The third potentially flight-worthy ship we’d found in the hangar, the Fearless Slicer, wasn’t receiving the same attention. Mainly, as Dooku and Maul had semi-claimed the other vessels, and I felt those two would have more use once we left the world. Yes, regardless of whether we fully repaired and took the Fearless Slicer with us, all of them would need upgrading. They were millennia-old designs that, while still impressive, had many systems that Anakin, R2, and Maul wanted to strip out and replace with newer components. Add in that, of the three, the Slicer was the one with the most damage to its hull, and it was solidly at the bottom of the pile for repairs. So far, Anakin hadn’t needed to strip parts from it for the other two, being able to find what he needed in the wreckages of the other ships in the hangar and in a few other hangars we’d located in the Citadel and around Kaas City.

  Only three of the four dozen other vessels we’d found had even appeared flight-worthy. Only one of those had been flown to our base of operations, and that had been a challenge as the ship’s systems had come close to failing twice in the ten-minute flight. As such, the others remained where they were, and if a part was needed from them, we’d handle it later if we had to.

  Over the last few days, we’d taken some time to recover from events in the Imperial Palace and then unlocked the remaining Spheres and the Emperor’s Chambers in the Dark Council chambers. During that, the various wrecks and potentially salvageable ships were catalogued for components that might be of use, with Anakin now having a rather long list of what he could take from where for repairing the Starblade, the Spear, and the Slicer.

  I was mightily impressed with Anakin’s actions regarding the ships he was working on. Not just because he was getting them ready at an impressive rate with only R2, Simvyl, and occasionally Maul to help, but also as he was perhaps the least concerned about the revelation of my ancestry.

  To him, it didn’t matter. He knew who I was and what I’d done for him, and he’d been open and clear that we were still, and always would be, family. The certainty, conviction, and finality with which he spoke had been unexpected. It was a reassurance I’d needed, that I wasn’t some mindless drone for the Force or others, but simply me.

  The fact he now had the Heart of the Guardian and was slowly working to align the crystal with himself only helped to ensure his commitment to the path I wanted us to walk together as brothers in arms. Time would tell if the Heart became his primary crystal, or if he found or forged another to work alongside it.

  Dooku was content with what we’d learnt from the little we had talked. From what I could draw from him; he saw it as proof that he had made the right choice in changing tack and accepting the honour of training me alongside Master Fay. I knew that with his pragmatic mind, we’d be fine. Maul, however, was a different story, which was in part why I’d brought him along on this mission.

  My focus returned to the scanners as I guided the Vhett into the large crevice in the cliff where the private landing pad was located. Building the academy into the side of a cliff was an interesting choice. Starting far below us, a long, narrow, and winding set of stairs led up to the main entrance of the academy; arriving at the edge of the pad the Vhett was slowly angling towards.

  Forcing prospective Sith to climb those stairs daily, making them expose themselves to the danger of such a climb – not least the winds that bracketed the Vhett as she slipped into the crevice – would challenge them. It would make them endure hardships daily to prove that they were worthy of embracing and bending the Dark Side to their will. That they had the resolve to be something more than mindless fighters thrown into the carnage of battle.

  At certain points on that long climb from the jungle below, pillars of stone stood. All were badly worn, the wind and dampness eroding them heavily over the passing aeons, but with some simple extrapolation, it was easy to deduce that they had once been statues. It was a guess on my part, but I suspected that they had been warriors; perhaps even former students who rose to the highest glory in the Empire. Even if they weren’t, they would’ve been an imposing sight to any climbing the steps, ensuring that only those worthy would reach the entrance of the academy.

  There was a gentle grinding of metal against stone before the ship’s consoles reported a stable landing. After confirming the readings and then placing the various systems into standby mode, inserting a code to lock the systems so that only one of the three of us could unlock them, I turned, collected my helmet from the co-pilot’s seat, and left the cockpit.

  “I do not expect this investigation to reveal much,” Maul stated as I reached the Vhett’s docking ramp, my helmet now secured, which had already deployed by the time I arrived, “and I would have much preferred to remain studying the artefacts we have already uncovered. However, I will not deny that the chance to stretch my legs and possibly examine how ancient Sith were trained in comparison to myself could be interesting.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I’m hoping we might find a few basic holocrons or manuscripts detailing how the Sith here were trained,” I replied as I moved down the ramp, allowing the Zabrak to take point. It was a minor thing, but I hoped it would help reassure him further that I wasn’t simply Vitiate reborn, nor that I was anything like Sidious. Maul was my ally and not a tool to be used in my schemes. That didn’t mean that if the chance arose to have him target someone or a group that was in my way, I wouldn’t bring the matter to him. However, I’d not force him to take the assignment and never hide the details of why I wanted those people removed.

  Behind me, the clanks of HK’s steps echoed as I emerged into the worn stone of the landing pad. I knew that if I asked Maul to carry out such assassinations or strike missions, HK would either want to go or need targets of his own. Like the Zabrak, such things were his forte, though he had been built by Darth Revan for such things, whereas Maul had been trained – broken, most likely, and not just once, I suspected – by Sidious into becoming someone capable of if not killing a Jedi Council member then at least forcing a stalemate.

  Honestly, I was uncertain of where Maul’s skill ranked. He was good, insanely so, yet I had defeated him in the duel to determine who was first among equals for us. He had also failed to defeat Dooku in the spars they’d engaged in, though it was always a close-run thing, as was the case for me when I sparred with Dooku. However, Maul had dispatched Battlemaster Drallig with relative ease on Naboo, as he had numerous other Jedi that he’d had to remove to protect whatever mission he had been assigned.

  I’d learnt from him during a discussion one night that Maul was the one responsible for the death of Master Bondara, the Twi’lek Jedi who had been Battlemaster before Master Drallig. Bondara had stood down to train his latest and last Padawan, feeling she needed experience beyond the Temple. Said experience had resulted in their deaths at Maul’s hands, which was something I found myself pleased about now.

  Back when I’d learnt that Master Bondara and his Padawan had been missing, presumed dead, I’d been concerned. Bondara had been considered one of the best lightsaber practitioners in the Order. Now, however, I was glad he was gone. He was one of their better warriors, and having him removed ensured that it was one less Jedi I might have to face in battle in the coming years and decades. Yet there remained this odd dichotomy in that Maul had killed Bondara and Drallig, Jedi on par with Dooku and that I had never overcome in a spar, but I had defeated Maul twice now. I shook my head and chuckled, dismissing the oddness of the situation with an understanding that it was something I would simply have to accept.

  As I looked around, taking in the weathered fa?ade of the Academy’s entrance, I opened my mind and reached out into the Force, intending to smash down any attempts by the Dark Side designed to overcome those unworthy to be here. My brow rose as I felt the Dark Side around us. It was nothing like the thick oppressive cloud that had threatened at times to engulf and consume us within the Citadel and the Palace. Instead, it felt like little more than a lingering fog on a cool, damp day. Something that willingly submitted to my presence.

  Maul glanced at me; a single eyebrow raised, hinting he, too, had no issues with the Dark Side here. “It appears we shall face less danger here than elsewhere on this planet.”

  “Observation: Whenever a meatbag says something like that, it inevitably means something will go wrong. Suggestion: Unless you wish to bring danger to my Master, I suggest you be mindful of your words, meatbag.”

  Maul’s gaze slid to HK, his eyes narrowing as I felt his presence coil in the Force, reminding me of a viper readying itself to strike.

  “It’s unlikely there’s anything here that would be a challenge for any of us, HK,” I said, slipping in before the pair could antagonise each other further: something HK specialised in. “However, we’re not going to traipse around the place like a bunch of younglings on a sightseeing tour.”

  Maul nodded, agreeing with my observation, and I felt him relax within the Force. Or relax as much as he ever did, as the Zabrak was ready for battle at any moment of the day or night.

  “Indignation: I have never traipsed like a small meatbag, Master. Nor would I deem it acceptable to endure the presence of younglings for long. Not unless they serve a purpose in ensuring whatever mission you assign me is completed to my exacting standards.”

  “Remind me to ask the Lokella to have you help with any recently freed youngling slaves when we next visit,” I said with a smirk as I moved towards the entrance of the Academy.

  “Mockery: Oh, you are a funny one, Master.”

  My focus returned fully to the entrance to the Academy. Like the stairs leading up to this gathering point outside, it was flanked by large stone statues. These had also seen damage from the elements, though the crevice offered some protection, meaning that while the finer details of the statues were gone, the general shape and design remained.

  As with almost every statue and monument we’d encountered, these statues were of Sith warriors. In their prime, their stone lightsabers would’ve arched over the entrance passageway, framing it as a place where warriors were crafted. Those lightsabers were gone, bar stubs that only just extended from the statue’s hands; eroded to dust as nothing of substance existed on the ground below them.

  Moving through the passageway, I felt the air grow slightly thicker, though it took only the briefest of relaxation of my power – something that caused the HUD to report a zero-point-one-degree drop in temperature around me – for the Dark Side to acquiesce to my supremacy. I could feel the shadows of all those who had passed through the entrance of this Academy, or at least those worthy of leaving some faint legacy within the Force.

  After perhaps a minute, the passageway widened, and we found ourselves before a large obelisk. It reached up to the roof of the passageway and, while it appeared dormant as I approached the object, I could feel the Force contained within it. The light from my helmet caught the faintly engraved glyphs on the surface.

  As the fingers of my replacement limb drifted over those glyphs, I could feel the dormant power within. The last lingering residual influence of the Dark Side that had once permeated the air of the Academy, that had helped shape generations of warriors to serve in Vitiate’s armies, brushed against my senses. There was a brief moment where it rose to challenge me; the potential new threat stirring the Force here from its slumber. That passed as soon as the energy in the obelisk felt my will, and it quickly pulled back, almost as if metaphorically kneeling in servitude. A sensation that I’d been experiencing with semi-regularity since claiming the Imperial Throne and consuming the last echoes of Vitiate.

  “It seems that even here, your newfound power seeks domination.”

  I turned to Maul, my hand remaining on the obelisk, seeing him watching me cautiously. His arms were crossed over his chest, removing any threat of a sudden attack – not that the Dark Side wouldn’t alert me to such a challenge – and his presence remained calm. Yet I saw something in his eyes that hinted at a potential issue.

  Turning fully to face him, I shrugged. “I didn’t come here seeking to become the Emperor of a dead empire,” I said firmly. “Nor did I know anything about my connection to Vitiate. It does, at least, explain why Sith appeared after my grandfather spoke to my great-grandmother about me displaying Force powers, but beyond the history of this empire, and its links to Revan, I’d never given the reason as to why I’d been targeted that much thought.” Mainly because I had assumed ever since then that it was simply part of how TPTB had worked with the Force to insert me into this galaxy.

  There was still an inkling of doubt within me that TPTB and the Force had chosen this body for a private reason, and that they had some higher goal for me to achieve. However, I was past dwelling on that. The Interface could offer me quests, and through those that I chose to take, I could gain powers and abilities unknown to others in the galaxy. However, I was the one directing my actions, both until now and into the future that I would shape from the ashes of the Republic, Jedi, and Banite Sith.

  “Yet you are linked to Vitiate just as you are to Revan,” Maul countered calmly. “Two Sith of immense power whose names carry weight even to this day.”

  “I think some of that is my doing,” I added with a chuckle, thinking about my choice to publish the Knights of the Old Republic trilogy of holonovels. A trilogy that, while still awaiting the final book to be released, which would be the end of this calendar year, already had studios fighting over the rights to turn the adventure into holomovies. “But yes, I carry the weight of their legacy on my shoulders. However, I’m not either of them.”

  “Do you not wish to burn the Republic to the ground and build something new in its place? Do you not desire the destruction of the Jedi? Are these not goals that both sought in their time?”

  “I do. I won’t deny it, even if I wonder if not all Jedi need to be removed. Some, perhaps, could be shown the truth while others could withdraw from the galaxy, becoming nothing more than a minor cult like the Shapers of Kor Var,” I countered, even if I felt the last option was unlikely.

  I still held hope that Fay would, when she returned, take those who wished to simply meditate on the Force and find purpose in serving the Light Side to Typhon with her. Or that those who wished no part of the coming war followed after. However, I knew that the further I walked on the path I had chosen, the less likely it would be that Fay would do as I wished. She might choose to stay on Typhon for the war with the Republic and the CIS; however, I knew she would never accept what I was going to do. Not without serious effort and an awakening that I didn’t feel she was capable of.

  “And what of the galaxy after we destroy the Republic and defeat the Jedi and Sith? Will you raise a new Empire, one in which you rule as Emperor?”

  “No.” My reply was instant. The very idea that I would choose to become what Vitiate was abhorrent to me. “I will lead those who wish to follow and stand beside me into a new era, but I don’t desire to rule a galaxy. It cannot be done. The galaxy as we know it is too diverse. Too chaotic to ever allow a singular authority to control everything. Not without simply seeing the return of the issues that plague the Republic. The same problems that gave rise to the New Sith Wars, and that hampered the rule of the very Empire whose ashes we now walk over.”

  I took a step towards him and sighed. “I’m not Vitiate, nor am I Sidious, Maul. Do I seek to rule? Yes. Do I want to remake the galaxy in the image I desire? Yes. But I don’t wish now, nor will I ever do so, to be the singular figure that rules over everything.” I chuckled and shook my head. “I’d kill myself before dealing with all that paperwork.”

  Maul grunted in response, my joke landing at least to some degree. “Understandable, though I would suggest removing those who insist on the paperwork first.” There was a brief pause before he continued. “You can say all you wish now that you do not want the power to rule a galaxy. However, the future is not certain, and there is no way to determine if such an event is not required, or that your opinions might change.”

  “Aye, that’s fair. But that’s part of why I want people like you, Dooku, and even Anakin once he’s ready, around me. You’re not just my allies, but a counterweight capable of striking me down if I become the very thing I seek to destroy. I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say this, to you and others, but I don’t want to rule over everyone, Maul. I understand that to reshape the galaxy the way I feel it needs to be, I will have to command armies in wars on a scale not seen in a thousand years, but I don’t want absolute power.” I paused and sighed, wanting to run my hand through my hair in irritation, though I couldn’t because of my helmet. “At best, I wish to be first among equals. Yes, my voice would carry more weight, but not enough to override everyone else.”

  I fell silent there, letting Maul consider my words. I knew that he had, like Dooku, Anakin, and the others, spent time over the last few days trying to begin to come to terms with the fact that I was a Child of Vitiate. No doubt he had meditated on the matter as I had, though I had no idea if he’d reached the sort of epiphany that I had.

  Now, I understood that while I accepted I wasn’t a puppet of Vitiate, TPTB, Revan, or anyone, I still had work to do to truly come to terms with what I’d learnt. I needed to spend days, if not weeks, in meditation, considering everything. However, that couldn’t come on Dromund Kaas. The Dark Side, while it had been brought to heel – generally speaking – by my claiming of the Imperial Throne, was insidious and manipulative. To dive as deeply into one’s internal nature while in a place as strongly attuned to the Dark Side risked, even if one avoided the worst madness that lay at the depths of the Force, being corrupted and changed by it. Haran, I knew I had been, which was why I would need the time after we were finished here to examine my choices and ensure that the balance I felt I had was genuine and not simply a trap of the Dark Side I’d fallen into.

  “I can admit that my concerns are centred around my former Master, and the idea that I might have traded one deceiver for another,” Maul began slowly, his eyes locked onto me as he spoke. “However, if that were truly the case, then you would have already started using what we have discovered here to rebuild a Sith empire. You did not submit to the desires of your father,” I bit back a retort about Vitiate, “and instead have seemingly crushed what remained of the former Emperor. To resist the will, even one diluted by time and decay, of one such as Vitiate is admirable. I do not know if you can walk the line you wish to seek. A line some would consider that lies between holding power and slipping into tyranny. However, from the short time we have worked together, I am, for now, willing to grant you the time to prove your words with actions. Just as you have so far done with our status as allies and not Master and Apprentice.”

  “Trust me, one apprentice is enough,” I replied with a smirk. “And thank you for your patience,” I added, offering him a small nod; something he returned.

  “Speaking of the boy. Did you know about his potential when you first sought him out?” I tilted my head, making clear I was curious how he knew of the events that led me to discover Anakin and his mother on Tatooine. “I have spent time with him working on the vessels. While powerful, he displays a common flaw of younglings.”

  “Knowing when to shut up,” I muttered. Now, Anakin could keep a secret, but not from those he considered friends or family. I didn’t think he considered Maul as either, but as I had brought him along and vouched for him, and nothing so far had happened that suggested I was wrong in my choice, Anakin had seemingly decided to reveal more about his past to Maul than I might’ve liked. There was not much I could do about that now, nor did I think I could stop Anakin from doing so in future. He was a person who naturally drew people to him and quickly treated those who were worthy as friends, struggling to keep secrets from them. I just hoped that as he matured, and learnt to better read people and understand how the galaxy worked, he’d become at least a little more cautious about what he revealed and to whom.

  “Yes,” Maul confirmed with a small grin. “You found them as slaves when, he claims, neither Dooku nor the other Jedi who trained you could sense them.”

  “I felt… a ripple in the Force,” I replied slowly, being mindful of my thoughts without making it clear that I was doing so. If Maul sensed that, he would suspect I was withholding something. Which I was, but it wasn’t anything I could ever explain to him or anyone else. “One that led me first to the shop where he and his mother worked,” a word I used in the loosest sense, “and then to him directly after interacting with the Toydarian who owned them. It was only after, once I’d secured their freedom, something I would’ve done regardless of his potential, that I learnt of the power he could conceivably one day wield. A power that could surpass both of us.”

  “Do you fear that power?”

  I grunted, and as it turned into light laughter, shook my head. “I would be a fool if I didn’t. However, that doesn’t mean I will lie to Anakin or deny him the training he needs so that one day, I hope, he can claim his rightful place at my side as an ally and friend. Just as I now call you ally, and potentially might say friend as the future unfolds.”

  Maul fell silent again, no doubt processing my words even as I continued. “Yes, I know the idea of being friends is almost antithetical to what it means to be a Sith or even one who uses the Dark Side of the Force. However, unlike what you and others might believe, family and friends are not, to me at least, chains that bind us. They are another source of strength and power we can draw from when needed.”

  “Many would target the boy and those close to you to hurt you.”

  I smiled under my helmet. The sort of smile that would cause most beings in the galaxy to reconsider a great many of their life choices. At the same time, I allowed some of my power to slip outwards, the armour’s sensors again reporting the gradual drop in temperature as I spoke. “Whenever I consider someone coming after those I care about, I feel a great swell of pity for them, and how short their remaining life will be.”

  There was no direct response from Maul. Instead, he simply turned away and prepared to move down the passageway, deeper into the Sith Academy. Understanding that the conversation was settled, I did likewise. Taking point, I moved forward slowly, my lightsaber in my hand but unpowered. There was no obvious threat in the air, just a general sense of the Dark Side that lingered here, not yet sure how to react to our presence.

  Less than two minutes of slow but steady movement later, the passageway ended, and we emerged into a large courtyard. Rather, it was more apt to say it had all the appearances of a courtyard save that it was carved deep within a cliff. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to refer to it as a hall instead of a courtyard, but apart from its location, it had everything one would expect from the main courtyard of a standard training facility.

  The walls lacking walkways that led to tunnels were covered in Sith runes and glyphs. R2’s translation program was sufficient enough that I could estimate the missing words or phrases. The lines of the Sith Code, the same one I suspected Maul had been taught by Sidious, dominated the wall directly facing us. Those runes were placed over a large set of double doors; one of which was ajar, the light from us swallowed by the darkness within.

  On either side of the doors stood a stone figure. Even with the damage brought forth by the effects of natural erosion, it was clear these were meant to represent the Emperor. However, as these figures appeared Human, they were clearly not Vitiate, suggesting the Academy had redesigned the statues at some point after his final defeat.

  On either side of the statues were railings. Once they had held banners, though the fabric had failed at some point since this place was abandoned, and now what remained of the banners, or one of them at least, rested in the corner of the courtyard.

  In the centre of the courtyard, which was otherwise devoid of decoration, were the skeletal remains of three beings. The sensors confirmed two had been human, the third a Togruta with the alien being female. If they had been students or instructors at this Academy, or those who died attacking it during the last days of the Empire, I had no idea. There were no discarded weapons or lightsabers nearby, though as we moved forward, the HUD highlighted sections of the main doors that appeared discoloured and suggested those were possible signs of battle.

  I was unsure of what lay beyond the entrance proper of the Academy, but I felt confident that nothing there would be a threat to destroy or challenge to overcome. The Force lacked the menacing, almost suffocating presence it had held in the Imperial Palace and Imperial Citadel, and as Maul had noted when I’d touched the obelisk that marked the edge of the Academy’s grounds since claiming the Throne and destroying the last echoes of Vitiate, the remnants of the Empire understood who its master was.

  … …

  … …

  (Dooku’s POV)

  From the cockpit of the Ascendant Spear, Dooku watched as the jungle passed below. While he was generally averse to piloting a ship himself, feeling such behaviour was beneath one of his regal nature, he would admit that this vessel was one he found himself pleasantly impressed with.

  Beyond the sleek, efficient lines of the vessel, it carried an elegance that he found appealing. Until now, a reaction he had rarely experienced with any starship. There were several designs that he regarded favourably due to their grace and refinement, such as those used by the Naboo, in particular the J-type 327 Nubian Royal Starship of Queen Amidala or the Baudo-class and Minstrel-class star yachts. However, unless those vessels were modified, they lacked the cutting edge that one such as Dooku understood was required when traversing the less reputable sectors of the galaxy.

  While ancient, the Ascendant Spear was intended to be armed. Not as heavily, perhaps, as it could be, but there was enough offensive capacity that it would be capable of defending itself if the need arose when it had seen service. Dooku did not claim to understand machines, but from what young Anakin and the former Sith Maul had told him, it should be entirely possible to have the Ascendant Spear upgraded with modern components once they left the system. Dooku found the idea of having a unique vessel to carry him around the galaxy most appealing, and provided the boy and Zabrak could, with the help of the astromech droid and Simvyl, repair the hyperdrive of either the Ascendent Spear or the Starblade, then Dooku had requested the ship be brought with them.

  As he was no longer a member of the Order, he would need a vessel capable of transporting his regal self around the galaxy. The Ascendant Spear would be that vessel. He knew this at the very depths of his soul. It was not merely a starship, but a statement. An almost perfect blend of form and function that displayed the same grace, control, and dignity that Dooku did, and that had drawn him to becoming the Jedi’s foremost practitioner of Makashi. Which was so unlike the various craft he had been forced to either pilot or travel upon while serving the Order. Yes, the Consular-class was a functional vessel and suited the Senate’s – and by extension the Order’s – needs adequately. However, it was a generic vessel for the masses, not a creation for those above the majority like himself. A fact that, like many, was not shared by those he had once considered useful allies among the Jedi and Senate.

  The Ascendant Spear was something designed to instil awe or fear, sometimes at the same moment, in those who saw it. A vessel designed for those most valuable of agents of the ancient Sith Empire to slip around the galaxy with ease, grace, and dignity. The Ascendant Spear would not look out of place on any world in the galaxy, be that the nicer – in relative terms – sections of worlds like Nar Shaddaa to landing outside the Senate or at the most exclusive complexes on Coruscant, Alderaan or elsewhere. In her day, the Ascendant Spear would have been capable of outrunning any ship she could not outfight and outfighting those she might be forced to engage. A potent blend that, for perhaps the first time in his life, found Dooku understanding why Cameron and others often became attached to vessels.

  If for those reasons alone, Dooku would have been drawn to the vessel, yet the Ascendant Spear had other features. The most prominent of those was that it had been designed with stealth features. Those were based around what, at the time, had been highly advanced sensor dampening, along with an active cloaking system. The latter was unlikely to still be effective, not least as the crystals that powered the cloak were exceedingly rare in the current age. The former was also likely to be inferior to modern sensors; however, they had yet to determine that, as Dooku had not taken the Ascendant Spear into orbit so that the Nekebi Vhett could attempt to track it with its equipment. Yet, for at least the sensor dampening, Anakin Skywalker seemed to believe he could upgrade the system.

  If it had been any other child that had suggested such a thing, or even most mechanics that Dooku had endured the misfortune to encounter, Dooku would be sceptical of the claim. The boy, however, was a savant with technology, so much so that the difference between him and Cameron Shan was like a chasm. Where Cameron would know how to repair a system and keep it running efficiently, Anakin would rebuild from scratch the entire system to be more efficient. An act Dooku had witnessed on numerous occasions while the boy was present on Matel’s Gift, visiting his family or deposited there because Cameron’s assignment was one he felt the boy was unready to accompany him upon.

  The training of a Padawan or Apprentice, as that was what young Skywalker was, was the responsibility of their Master. That Cameron had decided to bring the boy to Dromund Kaas when he had chosen only a few months ago not to take him while he helped Quinlan Vos locate his missing Padawan was unexpected. However, with the benefit of hindsight, Dooku understood that Cameron was taking knowledge from the Force, learning when and where he could best shape and train Anakin without taking too great a risk.

  Dooku pushed down the swelling pride he felt when he thought of Cameron and the man he had become today. Such thoughts led to moments of weakness that could be exploited. Not just by those who might seek to do him harm, such as the Sith that now ruled the Republic legally, but also to the temptations of the Dark Side. Dooku was far too controlled for those temptations to present a threat to him, but he was wise enough to understand that just because he was above the petty desires and needs the Dark Side could offer did not mean he should allow them the chance to take root within his mind.

  As the systems aboard the Ascendant Spear reported he was nearing his destination, Dooku allowed his thoughts to linger on Cameron. Not on the evolution of his former Padawan, but on the matter that he held the lineage of not one but two figures of immense power and influence within him. That Cameron was a descendant of Revan was a known fact, one that had, in some small way, helped ensure Dooku would train the then Initiate. To almost every other Jedi, bloodlines and lineage carried little weight, but to one born into the noble House Dooku and who understood that some were simply better than others, that lineage had called to Dooku. It needed to be encouraged, guided, and grown into something worthy of a name carried by many famous Force users from that bygone era.

  However, with events on Dromund Kaas, they had learnt that Cameron carried a second lineage; one far more dangerous – to him and others – than Revan’s. As the Child of Vitiate, though the exact details remained unclear still, Cameron’s history was tainted by the Dark Side. Revan had been a figure revered by both the Jedi and Sith; a man who had at different times been the hero of the Republic, the man who came close to shattering it as he had the Mandalorians, and then becoming its saving light. Vitiate, however, had been a Sith: A true Sith. A being born into darkness that had risen to become the Sith Emperor who’d ruled for centuries; no doubt through the use of the darkest of rituals that had since been lost to the ravages of time.

  Dooku was not one to engage in hero worship or the concept of idolising others, yet he had always been drawn to the concept Revan embodied for him. A being able to transcend the dogma of the Jedi and Sith, and do what was needed to ensure the galaxy travelled on the path it needed to. One that ensured Revan’s name echoed even thousands of years later. Vitiate, however, was a different beast.

  Dooku did not question the Sith’s power. He had taken a broken, beaten people and reforged them into an Empire that had, for a time, come close to engulfing and destroying the Old Republic. While it was not the Republic he lived in today, which he considered fatally flawed, Dooku understood that the mistakes and failings of the current era mirrored those of the Old Republic. A sign that those in power had failed to learn from history, or even worse, had chosen to ignore it.

  What Vitiate had done, while flawed and inelegant, was in many ways a template for what Dooku and Cameron might do if they had time. Retreat to the shadows, and over time build up the forces needed to strike at the Republic; to fatally wound the failed state so that in the aftermath, a new, better governance for the galaxy may rise. Yet with Darth Sidious and Darth Plagueis – sentients who had fooled even him with their deceptions – ruling the Republic, the option to move slowly was not on the table.

  Cameron was, from what Dooku had observed, both with his eyes and through the Force, coming to terms with his newly revealed second lineage. He understood he was not Vitiate reborn, nor Revan; a revelation Dooku was proud to see Cameron discover. While each line carried weight and power, Cameron was not his ancestors, but he would carry their name forward, though that of Vitiate would remain hidden from almost all for some time.

  If the Order learnt of Cameron’s second lineage, they would seek him out, potentially to force him back to the Order. A directive Cameron would resist, and one that would lead to conflict. With the looming threat of the Sith ruling a Republic, which they intended to destroy along with the Jedi, such a conflict was one Cameron needed to avoid for as long as he could.

  Beyond having the change that Cameron had undergone revealed to the Order, Dooku knew that, currently, his former Padawan could not stand against most members of the High Council directly. To say nothing of their combined might. Even Dooku was not arrogant enough to believe he could do so, though outside of Masters Yoda and Windu, he felt confident he could take any of them in a duel. Particularly now, he no longer had to abide by the constraining and misguided ideals of the Order.

  In time, Dooku sensed that Cameron would surpass not just himself, but that of any of the Order, but time was something that was finite. The Sith would not remain patient while ruling the Republic. No, they would begin enacting their Grand Plan and bring forth, within Dooku’s lifetime, the end of the Republic and Jedi.

  That Cameron would be critical to countering that event, or more accurately, the rise of the Banite Sith from the shadows in the aftermath, seemed to Dooku to be linked to his heritage. The Old Republic had come close to failing twice because of Cameron’s ancestors. First through Revan and then Vitiate. That Cameron would arrive in the era when the Republic that had been reformed after the New Sith Wars entered its death throes carried a poetic quality to it. As if the Force sought to remove the stain of the Republic from the galaxy once and for all.

  Cameron was a convergence. That was something Dooku had understood for many years. Yet now, with the revelation of Vitiate as his father, it only hardened Dooku’s belief that he had been correct in training Cameron; in shaping the man who would reforge the galaxy and carry Dooku’s legacy into the future. Dooku knew he had many years of life left in him, but he understood that death was a battle no sentient could escape. Not even the greatest Jedi who retained part of themselves within the Light Side, nor one of the most powerful Sith who had lived for centuries or even millennia, could emerge victorious from that confrontation. He had no intention of seeing his existence end soon, but Dooku knew that if it did happen, Cameron would carry his legacy forward, as would Anakin Skywalker once he was ready to stand alongside them as a true ally.

  While his time with young Skywalker was not as a formal Master and Padawan, Dooku had overseen the boy’s early training in the Force, while Cameron was unable to take the boy as his Padawan and now Apprentice. Dooku had never once been tempted to offer to train Anakin formally. He understood that role belonged to Cameron. Yet he would not allow the next generation of power and the continuation of his tutelage to be poorly educated.

  Anakin was unfortunately not suited for Makashi like Dooku or Cameron. He lacked the patience and control for it. However, the ideals of the form were part of the boy’s base, and even as he focused on other forms – Dooku foresaw the boy potentially settling on Djem-So – the groundwork and elegance of Makashi would be his base.

  The incessant beeping from the controls of the Ascendant Spear returned Dooku’s thoughts to his current location. Checking over the coordinates provided against those gathered by the vessel’s sensors, he sighed as he looked at the jungle below. He should be over one of the Inner Sanctums for the original twelve Spheres of Influence. These were the coordinates that had been extracted by the astromech for its location. It seemed, however, that if there had been any complex here, the Sanctum had long since been overwhelmed and reclaimed by the fauna of the planet.

  Closing his eyes, he reached out into the Force, seeking answers. The Dark Side was stronger here than it was over most places outside of Kaas City that he had travelled to or from. A haunting remnant of what might once have existed below. Pushing outward, he took what knowledge the Force held, seeking answers to the fate of the complex that should have been underneath the Ascendant Spear.

  Pushing aside any irritation at wasted effort, Dooku opened his eyes and then activated the communication channel. “I have arrived at the location for the Inner Sanctum for the Sphere of Biotic Science. It has been reclaimed by the jungle.”

  “Understood,” Simvyl replied from back in Kaas City. He had remained there to coordinate the explorations of the locations of the Inner Sanctums of the original Dark Council while Dooku, Cameron, and Maul travelled over the world seeking to determine which, if any, remained in a condition that might allow exploration.

  Dooku was uncertain if there would be anything of value in these Sanctums; however, he could understand why Cameron felt they should be investigated. The potential for knowledge or power hidden from the view of the other members of the Dark Council was high. Each active corridor within the Chamber in the Imperial Citadel had contained knowledge that the other Council members would not have been aware of during their lifetimes. Some even appeared to be missing from the records taken from the Imperial Palace, though until all of those records – of which there were a great many – were examined, that couldn’t be confirmed.

  From those records, along with the discovery of the remnant of the Star Forge and the Heart of the Guardian crystal, the locations of the Inner Sanctums had been listed. This was the second of four Sanctums Dooku had been assigned to locate, and like the previous, a failed expedition.

  “Have the others had any success?”

  “Maul located the one for Production and Logistics, but that’s it so far.”

  Even though the Cathar could not see him, Dooku nodded. “Very well. I shall proceed to the next location.” With that, Dooku closed the channel and, after inserting the coordinates for the next Sanctum location, allowed the Ascendant Spear’s computer to plot out a flight path.

  While his expression remained neutral, internally Dooku noted the large diversion the path contained. One that ensured the vessel stayed clear of the odd point on the planet that they had all sensed when they had first arrived. Dromund Kaas was a nexus for the Dark Side, but on one of the southern continents, there was a location where the Dark Side felt off. As if there was something more within the Force gathered there.

  Dooku knew they would investigate the location; however, they would not do so until they were otherwise ready to depart this world. Something strange was going on there, and whatever it was, both he and Cameron understood that what they discovered there would force them to vacate the world at least temporarily. Thus, it was being given a wide berth. Normally, that would not concern Dooku, but as it lay on the direct flight path from his current location to the next Sanctum location, it would enforce an almost two-hour diversion on him.

  As the Ascendant Spear accelerated away, the action smooth and graceful as Dooku would demand of any vessel he considered his, his thoughts turned inward again. With a seemingly smooth flight path due to take several hours, he had little else to do beyond contemplate his path; what had already taken and what lay ahead, along with meditating upon said path.

  That was something he had been doing in earnest ever since before the invasion of Naboo. Perhaps even before Cameron had been knighted. His failure with Komari Vosa, while less than that of the Jedi High Council, had been the final spark that had shown him that the narrow-minded and misplaced ideals of the Jedi Order were incompatible with who he was. He had felt that for a long time, and it was why he had drifted away from the Order after Galidraan.

  Cameron had changed the path he had been travelling upon and given him purpose. Not so much purpose in training a new Padawan, or even as Dooku had come to realise a potential successor for his ideals, but in seeing that the path he walked could not continue to align with that of the Order.

  Dooku retained great respect for many Jedi, including Masters Windu, Yoda, and Fay, though with each he found areas of disagreement. He had once believed in the Jedi Code, though never as stringently as some did, and used it to help guide and shape his actions. With the ability of hindsight, he saw the failure of that approach.

  The Jedi Code served well those with a lack of conviction or dedication to who and what they were. It provided them with structure. However, as one matured, a sentient should be expected to become an individual, not a mindless puppet bound to the rigidity of the Code when interpreted to its extremes.

  He would admit that not all Jedi were like that, Master Fay and Qui-Gon being two such individuals. However, while both skirted the edges of what the High Council would consider acceptable and within the bounds of the Code, and even with their considerable disagreements with the High Council, they remained committed to the Order and the Republic.

  Dooku had believed likewise, at least until Galidraan. From then on, he had found himself questioning the Council’s goals and motivations. Even going so far as to turn down an offer to sit upon it as a short-term member. Before Galidraan, he had felt that he might be able to alter the direction of the Order by taking such a position, but afterwards, his faith in the Council was shattered. Events several years later, when Cameron had been captured by the Bando Gora – in an irritating quirk of the Force, then led by Komari – and the Council chose to do nothing to help.

  He did not place faith in the prophecy of the Chosen One, not since he had come to realise that, for all his regal stature, poise, and power, it was not him. That said, he felt that Cameron was the one most likely to fulfil the prophecy. Seer Nilas and his now-deceased friend Sifo-Dyas had both seen Cameron as one of two who stood at the centre of the storm that would soon engulf the galaxy. When Cameron had discovered Anakin Skywalker, Dooku had been certain that the correct path lay along the road Cameron was shaping, and that Anakin would one day help him build.

  It was that realisation, the last of many, that came to him while he was working on helping Komari find a purpose that had hardened Dooku’s intentions. Before Cameron, he had planned to withdraw from the Order, though remain a part of it, yet he had come to realise such a path – one similar to that taken by Master Fay among others – still left him attached to the High Council, and thus the Code that he no longer found himself accepting. The revelations that came after he and Cameron had departed the Order only helped to, once he had overcome his initial shock, confirm he had made the correct decision.

  The Jedi Order was controlled by the High Council, the High Council led by Masters Yoda and Windu, and with that pair placing their faith in the Republic and accepting whatever decree the Senate declared. A pattern Dooku had never felt appropriate. Then there was the revelation that not one, but two Sith Lords now sat in the highest office of the Republic, elected there legally, a coincidence that Dooku understood with crystal clarity had been exactly what the Sith had intended after nearly a thousand years of manipulation from the shadows.

  After the New Sith Wars, as part of the Ruusan Reformation, it was made law that no active member of the Jedi Order could ever become a Senator, to say nothing of rising to become Chancellor. Indeed, even the few Jedi who had left the Order since then with the gravitas to become a Senator had never come close to the highest political office in the galaxy. Yet the Reformation had left open a loophole, one that Dooku had not believed existed until Cameron had pointed it out to him.

  No Jedi could ever become Chancellor, but the law said nothing about a Sith being openly elected to the office of Chancellor. Yes, Sheev Palpatine had never shown the slightest inkling to anyone that he could manipulate the Force, nor expressed any opinion that openly called for the divulsion of the Jedi, but he was the Chancellor. One elected in a free and open election by the Senate; the only group that could remove him from office, outside of the Chancellor committing a crime so heinous that his position would be untenable.

  Dooku knew the Senate would not make such a move. Not after approving the appointment of Hego Damask to the position of Co-Chancellor. The Sith had the Senate under their control, something that would only have grown stronger in the two years since Palpatine’s election. With them sharing the role, it was conceivable they could rule for a decade and a half without challenge, exploiting and circumventing the legislation. However, Cameron and Maul were certain the Sith Lords would not wait that long to enact their plans, and after several days of intense meditation, Dooku agreed with that assessment.

  Sidious and Plagueis, through their public personas, had shown incredible patience. Not just to enable Palpatine to be elected Chancellor, but in the cautious but steady degradation of the Republic. A weakening done by exploiting a system so flawed that it was clear it had learnt nothing from the Old Republic’s failings. A warning made only clearer by the planet whose atmosphere Dooku was now flying through.

  Since Darth Bane, the Sith had worked from the shadows, weakening, manipulating, and controlling the direction of the Republic, and because it had bound itself to the Senate, the Jedi Order. Now, over nine hundred years later, that plan was nearing fruition. Maul, sadly, was not made aware of the exact details of this Sith Grand Plan – a fact that only served to ensure the Zabrak’s loyalty would never return to Darth Sidious; however, Dooku knew his former Padawan well enough to believe that Cameron had an idea of how the Sith would have the Republic fall.

  Once they were finished on Dromund Kaas, Dooku would persuade Cameron to reveal his thinking on the matter, curious if it might align with Dooku’s thoughts. Dooku understood that while he might have believed he knew both Sheev Palpatine and Hego Damask, he had been a useful tool to help their plans along. Perhaps he might have even been one they might have intended to use as a more sophisticated version of Maul once the Zabrak’s purpose had expired.

  During his mediation to understand how he could have been so blind to the presence of two Sith among those he had considered allies, the Force had granted Dooku a vision. More accurately, it had hinted it knew something, and Dooku had used his controlled and focused anger at the betrayal he had suffered to wrest the knowledge from the Force.

  He had seen himself kneeling before a figure cloaked in shadow, head bowed in submission. That alone infuriated Dooku as he was no one’s apprentice. Yet as the vision continued, devoid of sound, Dooku had come to suspect that this version of himself, the one who had walked a path that led straight from the halls of the Jedi Temple into the waiting arms of Darth Sidious, had chosen the role willingly.

  There was much about the vision that remained unclear, not least the full detail of what had led him to acquiesce to a Sith Lord. However, Dooku was confident that this version of him had been a pawn just as Maul was. A tool to help the Sith ensure the fall of the Republic and the rise of a new Sith Empire.

  Hearing the vision end with him saying ‘Yes, Lord Sidious’ had caused a well of rage to swell within Dooku. One that had, for a brief moment, threatened to disrupt his control. If he had not retreated into isolation to meditate, he did not doubt that Cameron would have sensed the moment of failure. Komari, too, though there he was unsure, as while powerful, Komari had never been one alert to the more subtle shifts within the Force. Cameron was not particularly skilled at sensing them either, but his immense power helped to overcome some of that flaw in his character.

  After he had recovered, Dooku’s thoughts in those days-long meditation had turned, as they were now, to those he had once considered allies: Sheev Palpatine and Hego Damask.

  For the latter, the betrayal was not entirely unexpected. Hego Damask was an influential titan of industry and finance. Such figures were prone to using and dismissing those whose value had diminished, as they would any product or industry. For all his money and influence, Hego Damask had always questioned the way the Republic operated; even, Dooku now understood, placing hints of ideas in Dooku’s thoughts that had him question both the Republic and the Jedi Order.

  That one of the most commanding sentients in the galaxy, even one regarded as a recluse over the last decade-plus, was in fact working to destroy the very foundations on which their public power was greatly unsettling. Dooku was all but certain that Hego Damask had influenced others, in every sector of every corridor of power, to slowly bring them in line with the Sith Grand Plan.

  Indeed, when he reviewed several moments where it had seemed that Hego Damask had come out badly, Dooku could see how Darth Plagueis would have benefited. How each action the Munn had taken was never about increasing the control or influence of Hego Damask, but about enhancing the power at the fingertips of Darth Plagueis.

  There was a small corner of Dooku’s mind that wondered if Darth Plagueis had been in some way responsible for the death of Sifo-Dyas. One of the few Jedi that, even now, Dooku would have chosen to call an ally, Sifo-Dyas, had first gone missing and then later confirmed as dead by the High Council not long after the invasion of Naboo.

  He had no proof to confirm his belief, but Dooku felt there was some correlation there: that in some way Cameron’s actions on Naboo had led indirectly to the Sith removing Sifo-Dyas from the board. The question that continued to vex Dooku was what purpose the removal of Sifo-Dyas served, and how it either protected the Sith Grand Plan or, in some way, strengthened it.

  Perhaps insight would come when Dooku spoke with Cameron about what his former Padawan felt the Sith’s Grand Plan would entail. Perhaps not. Until then, and probably beyond, the matter would be one of several lingering questions that remained unanswered regarding the elder Sith Lord.

  As for the Apprentice, Darth Sidious, he had been a contemporary of Dooku’s, at least as Sheev Palpatine, for decades; Dooku’s rise in influence within the Order was mirrored by Sheev Palpatine’s rise in the Senate. Sheev Palpatine had spoken of the failings of the Senate with Dooku many times, and Dooku had shared his frustrations in return. However, while the Senator from Naboo had spoken of the need to either try and fix the Senate or how it was sometimes wiser to accept how things were, he had been working from the shadows to gather influence and control over those who graced the halls of the Senate while his master worked to do likewise with Hego Damask’s fellow titans of industry and finance.

  Each memory that Dooku had reviewed for time spent around Sheev Palpatine had irritated him. Every word, every action or inaction the quiet, unassuming man from Naboo had said had been nothing more than strands on a web of an energy spider. All designed to draw his prey closer to their demise or have them entice larger prey into their clutches, and Dooku had played his role to perfection.

  Every word spoken of the failings of the Senate, of how there was a cancer at the heart of the Republic, had been an almost open admission of actions he had taken as Darth Sidious to enhance and exploit those concerns. In many cases, Dooku had even helped, be it willingly or not, so that the desires of Darth Sidious worked to inflate the importance of Sheev Palpatine.

  The darkness with which Darth Sidious had cloaked himself ensured that everything that had happened benefited him, even when he was barely involved directly. Even his writings on politics and the corridors of power that were considered must-reads for almost every aspiring political figure today served not to make the Republic a better governance, but to corrupt those unaware into becoming susceptible to Darth Sidious’ influence.

  Dooku recalled a vote in the Senate, one that had happened not long after he and Sifo-Dyas first met Sheev Palpatine, a meeting arranged by Hego Damask. A vote had taken place over whether certain worlds – Felucia was the only one he could directly recall – should have seats in the Senate. That issue had angered the Trade Federation and left those worlds in dire straits between the Federation and the Senate, with many voices there now regretting the outcome of the vote. Those worlds, along with others from the Mid-Rim to the Outer-Rim, were growing louder in their discontent with the Core and the Republic. A fertile ground for the Sith to exploit.

  The more Dooku had re-examined every action taken, or not, be it in public or private, by Senator Palpatine, the clearer it had become to him that he had used the Trade Federation as a way to gain influence and power inside the Senate. There was no proof, but Dooku suspected that Darth Sidious had cultivated a portion of that public power with the Federation in secret; power that had led, eventually, to the invasion of Senator Palpatine’s homeworld.

  Naboo was a flashpoint, or as Master Windu would consider it, a shatterpoint. One designed to see Sheev Palpatine elevated to Chancellor. It was all so abundantly obvious with the missing information regarding the Sith that a blind man could see it. The then Senator had played everyone perfectly. Even Cameron, though there Dooku saw a chink in the plan. A glimmer of hope.

  He had not asked Cameron directly about this, but Dooku was certain that Cameron had known the invasion would take place. Cameron had made clear he knew the then Senator Palpatine was Darth Sidious before the invasion, yet he had still chosen to help the Naboo. Cameron had allowed himself to be used to ensure Darth Sidious's rise to become Chancellor because he had used that plan, one he could not prevent, to benefit himself in several ways that only now, with the benefit of hindsight and the truth regarding the Sith, Dooku had come to understand and approve of.

  Cameron had captured Maul and now converted the Zabrak into an ally, one who granted insight into some of the plans of the Sith. Beyond that, Maul was a formidable warrior and one who provided a purpose alongside Dooku and Cameron that they had previously lacked. However, by helping Naboo and its people, beyond ensuring Sheev Palpatine rose to become Chancellor, a connection that Dooku found incredulous that no one was realising, Cameron had used the situation to his advantage in a way befitting of a politician.

  To the people of Naboo, Cameron was a hero. Their hero. He was lauded by the galactic media, which Dooku had no doubt was controlled by the Sith, as a shining example to the galaxy of what the Jedi were meant to be. The High Council perhaps saw no problem with that portrayal, but they failed to catch the trap the Sith had created by having the media imply that the Jedi weren’t, by and large, heroes. A comparison that the Sith would only push since they now would know that Cameron had left the Order.

  It was clear to Dooku that one or both Sith Lords were trying to corrupt Cameron and turn him to their side. Their appearance alongside him and young Queen Amidala of Naboo at the premiere of Cameron’s holomovie showed how they were linking their name to his still, and how they wanted Cameron to feel indebted to them. Yet, Dooku could see how Cameron was using that connection to his advantage. Beyond simply keeping a known enemy close to him without them being truly aware, he did not trust them.

  There was also the change Cameron had begun with the Mandalorians. For millennia, that culture held a position of fear in the Republic, yet through Naboo, their reputation had been raised. More than any other, they had been responsible for the liberation of a world under the Republic’s protection, and now they helped train the enlarged Naboo Security Forces. That the home of the Co-Chancellor placed focus for its protection on something other than the Senate would draw the interest of many in the halls of power in the Republic.

  One could also not forget the speech that Queen Amidala gave the evening before the battle to free her planet and people. Dooku had no proof, but he suspected that if Cameron was not the source of the leak of that speech, one that blatantly questioned much of the contract that existed between the worlds of the Republic and the Senate and Chancellor’s office, he was aware who had.

  He might have spent the years before and since the invasion in an isolated system, but Dooku was not as out of the loop as many might suspect. He knew where to look on the Holonet to find those who questioned the Republic and its goals. He was aware of the most prominent voices, be they in the shadows or the corridors of influence, who had taken Queen Amidala’s speech as the clarion call to begin discussions over seceding from the Republic.

  Dooku was in no doubt that the Sith were aware of these voices as well and that they intended to use this in their Grand Plan. However, until he spoke with Cameron at length about what the Sith might do to bring about the fall of the Republic, and how they could exploit those plans to strengthen their hand, he would keep them to himself.

  That Cameron had found, along with an almost uncountable amount of data from this fallen Sith Empire and dozens of holocrons and other items strong with the Dark Side of the Force, a fragment of the Star Forge had the potential to be just as important as determining how the Sith would cause the Republic to burn. He might have been pessimistic with Cameron regarding the Infinite Engine’s potential usage, but that had been done to both temper Cameron’s understandable excitement and ground them both in the difficulty of the tasks that lay before them.

  Yet for all that remained uncertain about what was to come, Dooku was sure of his path going forward. He would return home and see what could be done to ensure that Serenno and its sector would ally with the faction Cameron would forge. He hoped that his nephew, who was the son of Dooku’s younger brother and the current Count of House Dooku, and the boy’s mother, who served as regent, could be persuaded to ally with Cameron. If not, then he would do what was required to ensure the might of House Dooku, Serenno, and the surrounding sector was made available to Cameron. Perhaps even altering the laws of Serenno so that the House of Dooku and all its power and influence would pass to Cameron whenever Dooku’s time drew to an end.

  All that, however, were actions to consider once they had left this world. As the Ascendant Spear accelerated over the jungle that seemed to cover the vast majority of Dromund Kaas’ landmass, Dooku leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The future was, as Master Yoda was fond of saying, always in motion. However, Dooku would work tirelessly from now on to ensure that not only would the fatally flawed Republic be dismantled, but that what rose to replace it was controlled by himself and his heir in every way but blood, Cameron Shan.

  Any other path only led to a darker, less stable and worthwhile legacy that Dooku would not allow to form.

  … …

  … …

  (Cam’s POV)

  The Vhett shuddered as it came out of hyperspace. Well, it didn’t truly shudder; there was just a faint shake as it transitioned back into normal space. However, compared to the smoothness of when Raven made the shift, it felt like a shuddering entrance to me. A sign that after almost a month in Sith Space, I was growing restless to be reunited with my ship and not this loaned vessel.

  That wasn’t to say the Vhett was in any way a bad ship. Far from it, in fact, as Torrhen’s men had done a wonderful job turning what appeared to be a light freighter into something that could outgun most light cruisers in use across Republic space. It just simply wasn’t Raven.

  “All systems report nominal,” Anakin stated from the co-pilot’s seat beside me. “Sensors scanning for anything of interest.”

  I nodded as I quickly plotted a route deeper into the system. This one, Lial, was a minor one within Sith Space. One that the galactic records about it were extremely limited. Nothing more than a listing of the star, the types of planets that orbited that star, and an almost generic list of minerals in the system. Truthfully, it was only a list of suspected minerals as the last reported date of the system being investigated was nearly two thousand years ago, before the outbreak of the New Sith Wars.

  What was interesting, and part of the reason we’d come here, was that the Republic’s report on the world differed from the records the Sith Empire had on it. Not just in the reports about what resources were in the system, but also in the actual infrastructure. The Empire had used this system as a base for one of its larger, but more secretive, starship manufacturing facilities. The shipyards here had, according to the Sith records from the later centuries of its existence, handled the construction of some of the more unusual vessels the Empire used. Particularly the X-70b Phantom and its successors, the X-76 Ghost and X-83 Spectre.

  Ideally, we’d find a Phantom somewhere in the system, but any of the later models should be useful for what we needed. The Ascendant Spear, while capable of orbital flight, wasn't able to enter hyperspace. Her hyperdrive was, sadly, not one that used a standard system developed by either the Republic or the Sith during that era, and as such, unlike with the Starblade and the Fearless Slicer, her hyperdrive remained inoperable.

  Dooku was accepting of that and didn’t feel there was any need for Anakin and myself to travel to this system to search for components that likely weren’t present. As much as he had grown to enjoy travelling around Dromund Kaas aboard the ancient Sith vessel, he was not as attached to it as I was to Raven. The same was true for Maul and the Starblade, though he would be taking it with us when we left Sith Space. As much as he wanted to continue using the Scimitar, he understood that the vessel needed to be disassembled almost to its skeleton and checked carefully for anything Sidious or Plagueis might have installed that could allow them to track the vessel’s movements, or take out Maul once they learnt he still lived.

  To everyone else, my reason for coming to this system was to see if we could locate the parts to repair the Ascendant Spear’s hyperdrive and explore whatever remained of the shipyards the Sith Empire had once used. That reason was accurate, but it was not the only one. The Lial system was one of six systems listed by the database of the Sphere of Military Command, and the third that Anakin and I were exploring during this operation.

  The first two systems visited had been devoid of anything useful; all that remained of the shipyards and manufacturing hubs there had been some sections of floating debris far enough away from any celestial body that they’d not been caught in a gravity well and destroyed. There hadn’t even been enough to bother taking a spacewalk to investigate, with this lack of success a common occurrence once we’d moved beyond Kaas City.

  Of the twelve Sanctums that were listed for the original Dark Council, only half had been located, with three of those in a state of disrepair and covered in overgrowth. I’d still landed at two of them as part of the rotation we’d developed, as I couldn’t see a genuine reason, beyond the linked quest, for me to travel to all six sites myself. One of them had been a waste of time, with only a few sections of the complex not dragged into the depths of the swamp, which wasn’t enough to trigger a completion from the Interface.

  The other had allowed me enough exploration to trigger an update for the objective; however, there had been nothing else of value there to make the trip worthwhile in any practical sense. Interestingly, when Dooku, Maul, and HK had located one of the Sanctums that was explorable – the Sanctum for Military Strategy – they had done enough exploration that I was rewarded with being listed as explored by the Interface.

  It was because of that revelation that I had chosen to leave the last two sites to them and depart from Dromund Kaas. In the time it had taken us to reach the Lial system, I’d been rewarded with another Sanctum being searched sufficiently for the Interface to record it as completed, and thus the others had earned me 16000XP for the two explored Sanctums without having to explore them myself. Add in that once we left Dromund Kaas and Sith Space for the time being, I’d activate the final objective of completing the Tremors of the Ancient Sith Empire quest before the start of galactic war would see me double the XP gained, and even if the last Sanctum was a bust, Dooku, Maul, and HK, had earned me almost a full level just with those two Sanctums explored.

  I was curious as to what increases, if any, the others gained with even R2 and HK having levels listed for them via Observe. Dooku’s was the highest, standing at Level 41. Maul was at Level 37, HK at Level 28, Simvyl at 27, R2 at 18, and Anakin at 16. While Levels weren’t a guide as to who would win in a duel between two sentients or droids, or even who was the most dangerous – something proven by my killing of Volfe Karkko and defeating Maul when both were five levels higher than I was – there was some correlation.

  Each of them increased over time as well, though not at the same rate as I did; a rate that seemed to have dropped just enough after Natural Selection that my growth was no longer as unbalanced as it had appeared before. An irritation, mainly as the evolution of the Interface hadn’t directly mentioned my Level growth being affected, but it was something that I’d come to begrudgingly accept.

  “We’ve got something where the shipyards should be,” Anakin’s voice cut through my thoughts, drawing my focus back to the present. “Uncertain if they’re working as there’s not enough power being detected, but hopefully we’ll find what we need here.”

  “If not, there’s three more systems,” I replied as I inputted the coordinates into the Vhett’s navigational computer. A moment later, the ship shuddered as power was shunted to the sublight engines, and we began the slow crawl towards where the shipyards should be.

  “But this was the place where they made the Phantoms. If we don’t find something here, the odds are we’ll have to leave the Spear behind. Master Dooku won’t be happy.”

  I chuckled and turned to look at Anakin, once again taking note of the small chain around his neck; a chain that held the Heart of the Guardian at the end of it. Anakin had taken to carrying that crystal with him everywhere, thinking that he could align it with himself not just via meditation but by simply having it in his presence. I wasn’t certain how effective that would be, but given he was struggling to align the Heart with himself, I saw no reason to stop him from doing so.

  “Are you sure it’s Master Dooku you’re thinking of?” I asked with a grin. “He might find the ship suitable for his tastes, but it’s you who goes on and on about it. As you do with the Starblade.”

  “I can’t help it!” Anakin shot back without any anger. “They’re just so different! I want to understand them fully and make them even better than they once were!”

  I laughed even as I shook my head. “Even if I have to use the Vhett to tow her through hyperspace, we’re taking the Spear,” I stated for at least the twentieth time. “It would just be easier if all three ships had working hyperdrives. I’ve still to rediscover the other ways out of this sector,” I added.

  From the various records R2 had managed to translate and decipher, there were now four potential hyperspace routes that allowed access to and from Sith Space through the Stygian Caldera. I intended to open at least two of them so there were ways to enter Sith Space without travelling past the Republic station- such as it was – in the Korriban system. The issue was that the Vhett had no knowledge of these routes, and the data from the Empire’s databanks was thousands of years old. With those routes being minor and unused, there was a good chance that most or all of them had become unstable. That would force us to take control of the Force and demand that a route be reestablished, something that I’d been doing with almost every hyperspace jump we’d done within Sith Space.

  Even with my power and control over the Force, it was a tiring process to find a clear path through hyperspace when travelling between two stars with nothing in real space between them. Doing that with a nebula all around us was undoubtedly going to make things far more complicated. However, I would do so because the benefits vastly outweighed the risks.

  "You can do it," Anakin said with absolute certainty. "I know you can."

  "I appreciate your faith, An'ika."

  And I did. Perhaps I should temper his confidence—both in me and in himself. But watching him work on those ancient ships, seeing him grow stronger in the Force even as this world tried to twist him…

  No. Faith was exactly what he needed right now.

  "Anyway," I said, deliberately shifting topics, "what will you do if we find a Ghost or Spectre in those shipyards?"

  His grin was immediate. Incandescent. "Take them too!"

  I laughed again and input the final course correction.

  "Then let's find out how much treasure we're adding to our haul."

  … …

  … …

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