Galactic Heresy
A Star Wars: The Old Republic one-shot series
Chapter One: Compassion
Rathalis took a moment to admire his handiwork. Strewn on the snow-covered grass in front of him were two dozen insectoid corpses, all smoking from electrification and with limbs bent in unnatural angles. Behind him stood a large, bulky reptilian Dashade hefting a vibrosword, its eyes scanning for danger.
"Your powers have grown immensely since Korriban, my master," the Dashade, Khem Val, commented, before adding, "But you are still nothing compared to Tulak Hord."
"Yes, yes, I know," Rathalis replied sarcastically, turning to his hulking companion, "But as I've said for the thousandth time, he's dead and there's nothing you can do about it. You serve me now. Besides, my servant, power is only a means to an end. It has its uses when destroying puny opposition like these Killiks, but I intend to grow powerful not because of power's sake like the countless foolish Sith that litter this Empire, including my own master Zash. I intend to use my power to carry out justice and altruism once our armies have finally taken over the Galaxy. Only then will true stability be achieved."
"You are heresy. If not for the fact that I am bound to serve you...You do not think like a Sith. If Tulak Hord hears you then-" Khem Val never got to finish as he was cut off by the arrival of more Killik warriors that sprung out from nearby bushes.
"Less talking, more killing," Rathalis cackled as violet lightning erupted from his fingers and arched a path through the air at their insectoid fiends, "The Empire's citizens and our allies in House Thul won't walk these roads safely until all these pests are exterminated!"
Hearing Khem Val's grunt amused Rathalis greatly. A male human with light blond hair, Rathalis had an angular face hidden underneath the hood of his dark Sith robe. His hands, covered by jet-black gauntlets, still sported the permanent scars of slavery. His feet that had once shuffled bare across surfaces to carry out his former taskmaster's commands now ran in dark boots through Alderaan's forests with great efficiency, crimson lightsaber and purple electrical discharges burning anything that dared cross his path.
Truth be told, Rathalis hated the Sith. They were the ones who had conquered his homeworld, killed his family, and took him in as their slaves all those years ago. The way they lorded themselves over their own citizens, killed anyone under their leadership whenever they wished, greatly disgusted him. But when he was forced to become Sith or die, he choose the former.
Not because he valued survival above all else, but because he knew that as a Sith, he could make a difference. He could change the Sith Empire inside out. Make it more effective. Authoritarian yes, but a society free of in-fighting, speciesism, and slavery that actually cared about its citizens.
They fought through swarms after swarms of Killiks without breaking any sweat. Soon, an Imperial base camp came into view above the trees, and Rathalis rushed in with a burst of speed aided by the Force, levitating the man-sized insects nearest to the camp into the air and frying them with lightning. The sounds of Khem's ministrations could be heard from behind as the Dashade followed, swinging his massive vibroblade and cleaving three Killiks in one attack.
"Are you all right," the Sith apprentice inquired gently as he hefted a young man dressed in Imperial scout gear, no older than twenty, to his feet. Around them laid dead Imperials and Killiks.
"It's okay, my lord. I'm the last of my squad," the young man said, even as he struggled to stand, "Just a broken ankle. I'll get myself to a medcenter right-"
"Oh, no you don't, trooper. Let me look at your wound." Rathalis ordered.
It was nothing the Dark Side of the Force couldn't fix. Throughout his hunt for Tulak Hord's ancient artifacts, Rathalis had slowly but surely developed his own variant of the Jedi's ability to heal with the Force. His version, however, was rooted in the Dark Side. By applying enough will, one could command the body's tissues and cells to obey, thus restoring what was broken to its former state.
In less than two minutes, the trooper's ankle was mended.
The trooper looked speechless. "I-I...Thank you, my lord. I'll hold my position here."
"Don't thank me, soldier. I'm just doing my duty for the Sith Empire. I'll contact House Thul for reinforcements. They should arrive in a few minutes."
"This is abominable," Khem Val grumbled in his native tongue. "Compassion is a weakness."
"It'll be what holds this Empire together, trust me." Rathalis countered, smiling.
Author: So, with all the sequel trilogy and Solo hype, not to mention all the Eternal Empire storylines in SWTOR over the years, I got back to the game to look at my old characters (I stopped playing SWTOR a year ago) and thought: "wait, there's a whole galaxy out there to explore and the current decision-makers of Star wars are still exploring the old rugged rebellion vs big empire theme? Well, time to do something creative!"