The Darkest Lord
Chapter XIV: Complications
"Going to kill you," Darth Revan mumbled unconsciously as he was brought aboard a YHP-40000 Rebel transport vehicle on a hover gurney, a medic following behind closely. The floating bed was directed towards the back of the shuttle by a young Tarisian soldier, who ungracefully shoved it into the wall. This caused a loud metallic banging sound, which caused the medic to wince nervously. The impact caused the unconscious man to inhale sharply, presumably from the pain. Without so much as a glance towards Revan, the soldier who had been controlling the gurney also threw a small pack, containing the Dark Lord's gear, onto the ground beside his bed. The young Tarisian turned away and stalked towards the door without a word to the medical officer.
"The man's about to die and you just slam him around like a bumper bike?" the medic called after him.
The soldier didn't respond with anything more than an agitated grunt. He simply slung his blaster rifle over his shoulder, back into his hands and walked out, passing Bastila as she exited the transport. She was followed by her apprentice, Princess Leia, who had set her features in a neutral stage and kept her arms folded over her chest. The young Talravin Jedi Knight approached the bed that Revan had been strapped into and studied her enemy's features for a moment. Frowning, she felt a tad underwhelmed. He was different from the man she had seen before. The pictures and holos of the man that had lead the rogue Jedi, Revanchists as they had called themselves, into battle against the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders were very different. He had been a good looking, healthy man who had been physically fit and had warm, kind features. The man she saw before her was sickly. His complexion had gone from a ripe pink color to a ghostly white one. His once chocolate colored brown hair was now a sick muddy color, one that was much darker. Even in his unconscious state, she knew that the cold, callous expression she saw was the real deal. A very thick sheet of sweat had broken out over his skin, drenching the Sith Lord. The black combat armor that he had stolen was now adhering to his pasty skin, which would make healing him difficult.
Unfortunately, there was no proper medical equipment aboard the small transport to treat the sort of injury that he had sustained. An untrained rookie soldier that had been well armed had lost his nerve and shot the Dark Lord in the back, burning a hole through his armor, his skin, and one of his kidneys. If he didn't have emergency surgery soon, he would surely perish. Unfortunately, the Rebels didn't have anyone with the kind of medical skills to perform such an operation on the planet's surface. A highly trained surgeon was waiting for their arrival aboard one of the Rebel capital ships, though it was possible that Revan wouldn't make it that long. As the situation stood, all they could do was attempt to keep him relaxed and as comfortable as possible. As far as Bastila could tell, he didn't look very comfortable at all. The thick coat of sweat glistened over his pale features, rolling down his skin and dripping onto the sheets. His breathing came in harsh, labored gasps, which got caught in his throat several times.
In order to alleviate the pain somewhat, the field medic had injected a high dosage of bacta into the man's bloodstream, which should have spread through his circulatory system within mere moments. The hope was that alleviating the pain that the Sith Lord felt would help him rest easier and, more importantly, keep him unconscious. Bacta was a potent drug. If administered in large quantities, it had the power to kill a man. Due to his Force sensitivity, Bastila had allowed them to inject a much higher volume than would normally be safe to administer. It wouldn't kill him. The depressant was supposed to keep him under as long as possible. It didn't seem to be working. The healing agent couldn't even begin to repair the damage done to his kidney, nor stem the flow of pain and toxins that the damaged organ was secreting. His incoherent ramblings and noises were becoming more frequent and more aggressive. He was close to reawakening. When he did, it would not be pleasant. With so much pain surging through his body and no way of defending himself, Revan would most likely revert to a feral stage. Bastila had seen it before. Men became like cornered animals when they were injured. They would lash out and destroy anything that they perceived to be a threat. Revan's raw talent for destruction would be more than enough to destroy the entire transport, which was now beginning to lift off so that they could return to the capital ships that were holding positions in orbit.
Leia saw the amount of pain that the Sith Lord was in and she agreed that they should end it. The difference was that she felt killing him would be a better solution. In her world, there were very few shades of gray. Things were black and white. Revan was on the darker side of that spectrum. From what she had heard, he had the blood of countless innocents on his hands. Saving his life didn't seem right. She felt the need to voice her opinion.
"Why are we protecting him?" Leia asked as she uncrossed her arms and moved to stand beside her master. "I can sense how conflicted you are."
"The Jedi do not kill the helpless," Bastila responded curtly as she set her bare hands on the dieing man's bed frame, glancing at the medic for only a moment before knowing everything he could possibly tell her. Revan would die. What else could a non-Jedi healer tell her? He didn't have the knowledge of what the Force could do to preserve the spark of life within an individual and nurse it back to a roaring flame.
"Are you going to spare Darth Vader or the Emperor if they can't protect themselves too?" the princess asked, uncertain of whether or not she could handle the wrong answer.
"I will not kill a helpless opponent," the Talravin Jedi stated, using the only apathetic answer that she could consider. "Even someone such as your Emperor."
"But he's responsible for the deaths of billions!"
"So is Revan," was the response. "That doesn't justify execution. How are we any better than he is if we become killers too?"
"We're not killing him for power's sake," the padawan answered. "He's a threat to everyone around him as long as he is alive. I can sense the darkness inside of him. It's like nothing I've felt before."
"Your senses are not as well attuned as my own, Leia. It's obscure. Shadows and darkness shroud Revan's mind, making it difficult him difficult to read but there is still good inside of him. I believe that he can be saved."
The Alderaan princess frowned and crossed her arms again, unsure of anything else to say. She forced herself to bite her lip to abstain from making a bitter remark. Ever since she had reached an age where her father felt that she would be useful to the resistance movement, she had dreamed of the day that someone would tell her Darth Vader had been killed. In the two years since the founding of the Rebel Alliance, she had spent a great deal of time helping to plan strategies and politically ruin the Empire. Her mission aboard the Tantive IV had been to find Obi-Wan Kenobi so that he could assist with an assassination mission against Darth Vader. According to her father, Bail Organa, Obi-Wan had been Vader's master before the crippled Sith Lord had fallen to the dark side and been imprisoned in the black suit that he wore.
Bastila didn't like that Leia was vocally questioning the Jedi Code. It wasn't because the princess was showing disrespect for the order. Well, she was, but that wasn't what bothered her. What was upsetting was the fact that she too was thinking the same thing that her padawan was saying out loud. Why was she saving Revan's life? Did he even deserve to live? She had killed in battle before. She was fairly certain that some of the men that she had killed in battle hadn't actually been dead when she left. She had abandoned them with mortal injuries and they had to wait in agony for death to make its claim. What was the difference here? A soldier had shot Revan and done the same. Was there really a difference in the two? Biting her lip, she honestly didn't have an answer. All she could do was what her moral compass guided her to do. That was to save Revan's life if at all possible. She'd live with the consequences of her decision later.
Bastila turned to the medic who was trying to stabilize Revan. "What's his status?" the young Jedi asked him. "How are his vitals?"
"Critical, ma'am. At this rate, he won't live another three hours. They're dropping slower than I expect but they won't stay up for long."
Bastila looked at the Sith Lord. She had never seen his true face before. Holos and videos weren't the same as a face to face encounter. Their encounter on the Spirit of Revenge had ended quickly and his mask had been in place the entire time. Now as she studied him, the underwhelming feeling returned to her. His skin was ghostly pale, as if it hadn't seen sunlight in years. The thick brown hair on his head contrasted with his skin tone so sharply that it almost appeared to be black. The majority of his bulk had come from his armor. The actual man had a much thinner build than she had anticipated. In her mind, Revan had been roughly the same size as Malak, except a few inches shorter. Physically, this man was almost the complete opposite of his apprentice.
His face was pained though. She could tell that he would not last long, even without the medic's analysis of the situation. Balancing on her delicate resolve, she decided then and there that letting Revan die was not an option. Her Jedi duties aside, Bastila knew that the Dark Lord of Revenge held a wealth of information in his mind that could be used to stop Darth Malak and the remaining Sith forces. If they could somehow interrogate him and gain access to that information, he would be invaluable to them. The Sith that they had captured on Yavin had been of little use. Before he had committed suicide by throwing himself through his Force cage, the Dark Jedi had told them only that the Sith were using something called the Star Forge as their headquarters. What was the Star Forge? Why were the Sith using it and how could they possibly have known about it if they had come from the past, just as she had?
"Mina," Revan mumbled as his eyes slipped open.
Both Bastila and Leia took an involuntary step back. Revan's head lulled over so that he could face them. A grim chuckle escaped him, which wracked him body with pain, causing him to cough softly. Once the spasms stopped however, a faint smile broke over his lips.
"Mina," he repeated with a little more strength. "So beautiful…" His amber colored eyes locked with Bastila's pale gray ones for a moment, causing her to feel very uncomfortable. She shifted nervously under his gaze, which could only be described as soft and, hard as it was to conceive, caring, and turned away. Another weak chuckle rumbled in his chest and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. He quietly fell back out of consciousness. "You are so beautiful," he whispered again.
"He's delusional!" Leia gasped.
The comment made Bastila gulp loudly. Of all the things she had expected Darth Revan to say to her when they finally met face to face, a compliment on her appearance was not one of them. It had unnerved her tremendously. Beautiful? She had never been called beautiful before. The Jedi had always discouraged such talk while she had been a student at the temple. Such conversations always lead to vanity. She had convinced herself years ago that she was not a beautiful woman. She was a plain one. She had always told herself this and never though anything of it. Now Revan had to go and make an inappropriate comment like that. Of course, Leia was right. He was delusional. How could he be anything other than delusional when he had suffered major blood loss, had a gaping hole in his back, and was hyped up on painkillers?
"Ugh! Bloody Sith Lord," Bastila muttered as she recomposed herself. "Sergeant," she said to the medical officer. "You are dismissed. I will assume responsibility for Darth Revan."
The young man eyed her for a moment. The Jedi had demonstrated no knowledge of medicine. He didn't think that she had any ill intentions though. She had been the one to demand that the Sith Lord be spared. It was doubtful that she would turn around and kill him now. Still, it made no sense that she would take away the closest thing that they had to a doctor at such a critical time if she wanted him to live. The Jedi saw his hesitation and sighed.
"I assure you that Revan is in good hands," she said softly. "We'll take good care of him."
"I swore an oath, Ma'am," the Rebel replied uncertainly as he ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. His mouth opened, as if to say something else, but then shut again. He tried again, only to find similar results. Bastila sighed. As a medical officer, he had sworn an oath. So had she. Arguing about whose oath held greater significance would be foolish and very un-Jedi of her indeed. Gently, she turned and looked down at Revan, whose jaw was clenched tightly as the pain wracked his unconscious form. He was overcome by a painful spasm every so often. It was a pitiful sight, especially for a man who was so powerful. It was also, the Jedi thought, somewhat poetic. He would had been idolized and feared as a dark god was now proven to be nothing more than a man. He felt pain. He was weak. He would die. The ultimate end which was guaranteed for all sentients was waiting for him as well. She wouldn't let death take him just yet though.
"What is your name, Sergeant?" she asked him.
"Private First Class Axel Blaiden," he answered her.
"Sgt Blaiden, you may not understand what I am doing but I assure you that Revan has a much higher chance of surviving if you trust me. I know what I'm asking isn't fair. I'm asking you to place this man's life in the hands of religion rather than science. However, what I'm going to do will save him."
The medic glanced at his dieing patient and then to the Jedi. He knew that there wasn't anything he could do. At the very most, he could dip a bandage in bacta and lay it over the wound, which would begin to repair the skin. The damage to his kidney was a different story. There was nothing that bacta could do for such serious organ damage. It needed to be removed. With the equipment he had to work with and his basic training, there was no way that he could actually save the man. If the Jedi had a way of helping him to save a man's life then he would do as ordered. With a weak nod, he took a step back and made a gesticulation, indicating that she could begin. Saluting to the two Jedi, Sergeant Blaiden walked out of the room, despaired.
"Poor man," Leia muttered, pitying him for a moment.
"I don't know how well Revan will respond to this," Bastila stated as she walked over to the pack that the Tarisian Rebel had haphazardly tossed to the corner of the room. She rummaged around for a moment before she pulled out what she had been looking for: Darth Vader's lightsaber. "Here."
Leia took the Sith weapon, expecting to feel a surge of darkness as she touched it. Strangely, she felt no such thing. The lightsaber had no aura whatsoever. It was a cold piece of metal. Vader had left no mark on it. She twisted it over in her hands, inspecting it closely. A frown crossed her features. It looked familiar. She had seen the weapon before. She had been in the Dark Lord's presence several times in the past and he had used in front of her more than once but she had never taken time to commit its characteristics to memory. Now that she actually was paying attention, she realized that it bore a striking resemblance to another lightsaber that she had seen before.
"This looks exactly like Luke's lightsaber," she stated.
Bastila ignored the comment. Ever since her accidental mind meld with Darth Vader, she had sensed some sort of connection between the Sith Apprentice and Luke Skywalker. Now wasn't the time to dwell on the matter, however. Obi-Wan's apprentice was missing and the Talravin Jedi still blamed herself for the matter. Revan was dieing and she needed to concentrate on saving his life. Once that was taken care of, she could ponder the link between an innocent farm boy from Tatooine and the second most powerful political figure in the galaxy.
The Jedi Knight walked over to Revan and took his cold hand into hers. She could feel how tense his muscles were just by touching him. Swallowing, she began to mentally prepare herself for what she was about to do. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, the Jedi closed her pale blue eyes and began to concentrate on the Force inside of her. The spark of light side energy that burned strongly within her began to dance wildly, sending bursts of power through her fingertips.
Leia tightened her grip on the lightsaber that was inactive in her hand and watched the situation nervously.
Twenty minutes later, two Rebel soldiers escorting a Twi'lek doctor, came aboard the transport, after it had docked inside of a Rebel capital cruiser. The violet skinned alien entered the back room, where Bastila was still channeling her energy into Revan. Princess Leia approached the trio that had intruded in on the Jedi healing and blocked their path. "Give her a moment," the princess ordered. "This is a sensitive matter."
"We were told that patient was in critical condition and needed immediate attention," the Twi'lek snapped. "Let me through."
"My master has been healing Revan since we left the planet's surface. The recovery process isn't as precise as surgery would have been but it's far more effective."
"I find that hard to believe. Now let me through!" the alien ordered.
"Once this is over, then you can take him. In the mean time, we cannot disturb-,"
"It's alright Leia," the princess heard the Talravin Jedi's cultured voice.
Leia turned around. Bastila had gotten to her feet and was stepping away from Revan shakily. "You may take him, Doctor," she said with an approving nod.
The female physician snorted as she walked by the two Jedi and snorted something about Jedi telling her to do her job. The two women ignored the violet skinned alien's comment and waited for her, along with her two escorts, to depart. "How do you feel?" Leia asked her master once they were gone.
"Tired," Bastila responded. "I need to rest before we return to the planet's surface."
"I'll speak with Admiral Forn about a status update. My hope is that we won't need to return to the surface."
"We'll see," the more experienced Jedi responded, though her voice bore no traces of the optimism that her padawan's did. "Keep an eye on Revan. If anything happens, come get me immediately."
"Of course," Leia answered with an affirming nod. "Go. Rest."
Bastila shook her head in weary agreement before following the medical staff. Leia stayed inside the docked transport for several minutes, simply trying to use the Force bond that she had inadvertently developed with Bastila in order to sift through the confusion within her friend's mind. Unfortunately, it didn't seem that her friend wanted any such help. Bastila had raised her mental shielding to a point that Leia could not penetrate. Frustrated, the young padawan redirected her attention to the lightsaber that was now clipped to her belt. She unhooked it and brought it back into her hands, biting her lip as she once again studied its eccentric features. It was very different from the lightsabers that Bastila, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and the Dark Jedi on Yavin had used. In fact, Luke's lightsaber was the only one that she had ever seen that had any sort of resemblance to the black and silver weapon.
"It's time that I had my own lightsaber," she commented thoughtfully as she turned it over in her hands.
Ever since she had agreed to become Bastila's apprentice, back on Yavin, Leia had studied hard and tried to teach herself the ways of the lightsaber. Bastila had taught her a few techniques using vibroblades and she was sure that she wouldn't impale herself just by activating the weapon. Still, it felt cold. There was nothing significant about the weapon in her hands. It felt as if it had no owner. Darth Vader had not bonded with it. It had not become an extension of himself, as Bastila's golden hued weapon had. When Leia touched her master's weapon, she felt the link between the knight and her sword. It felt awkward holding the Jedi Knight's lightsaber, simply because it did not and could not, belong to her. Vader's weapon was a different story. It was a shell; neutral. She, a Jedi of the light, could use it. Revan, a Dark Lord of the Sith, could use it. Why?
Pondering the question, the princess stepped out of the transport and looked around the hangar. Most of the crew was on the planet's surface, so only a few tech specialists and droids occupied the empty room. Shrugging, she decided that it was time to pay her growling stomach the attention it deserved. Her curiosity did not supersede her hunger in terms of priorities, nor did her concern for Revan. The doctors would have him under heavy medication to keep him unconscious during the surgery, which, judging by the nature of the wound, would take several hours. Removing an organ such as the kidney was not a quick process. It was safe to say that the Dark Lord would be out of commission for quite some time.
At last, heeding the warning that her stomach was growling at her, the young woman started towards the mess hall to find something to eat.
Meanwhile, at the heart of the Galactic Empire, his Majesty, the Supreme Emperor Palpatine or, as he was known in private, Darth Sidious, sighed very loudly as he moved around his ornate desk towards his comfortable easy chair, and seated himself. The Dark Lord slammed his hand down with strength deceiving of a man his age, causing several stacked datapads to spill over, onto the floor with a clatter. The politician ignored these, however, and focused on the man in front of him. Private Cordith stood at attention, waiting for the highest ranking official in the Imperial Military to speak.
He was nervous. The military officer had just had the misfortune of passing Darth Vader's report of the events at Bast Castle to the Emperor. This alone, on any given day, would have been bad enough. The galactic sovereign was known to have a temper that rivaled that of his apprentice. More than one unlucky messenger had been carried out of the Emperor's office in a body bag. It had been foul luck that had placed him on duty when the transmission from Vjun had come in. His girlfriend, a long legged Twi'lek girl with an ample bosom, had persuaded him to trade shifts with another soldier so that they could spend the end of the week alone together, at her private apartment in the city. He'd eagerly agreed to the proposition, unaware that it would place him in the Emperor's presence.
Worse still, Cordith was unaware of the other messages that had come across Sidious's desk that very day. Eight different attacks had been issued against the Empire, Vjun included. The two most notable, however, were the attacks on Kashyyyk and Corellia. After twenty years, the Wookiee war hero, Chewbacca, had returned home and had led a group of Rebels against the slavers that had usurped control of his people. The Wookiee had been successful in liberating his shackled brothers and purging the planet of Imperial presence within just a few short hours. At first, Sidious had been reluctant to believe that such reports could be true. It wasn't until another important fact was revealed that he accepted it as truth.
Before transmission with the Imperial garrison had been lost, a security feed had been sent back to Coruscant. The video file had shown one of the assailants that had aided in the raid on the slaver stronghold. A small green alien, wielding a shortened emerald lightsaber, had been portrayed, ripping several AT-STs apart. The Lord of the Sith had instantly recognized the alien as Jedi Master Yoda, former Grand Master of the Jedi Order. This information had not been taken well. Yoda had vanished just after the formation of the Empire and hadn't been seen or heard of since. His location had been a complete mystery and the Sith Lord had truly hoped that the Jedi bastard had died.
Then there was Corellia. A small fleet, lead by a smuggling vessel that had been ID'd as the Millennium Falcon, had fired on the orbital defense station that had been installed over the planet, ultimately wiping out the Imperial forces there. The Corellians, who had long sought to discard the Empire, had provided no assistance, and were now offering to openly trade and negotiate with the Rebels. Worse, another Jedi had been seen with this group as well. This one, an older man who had used a blue lightsaber, was probably Master Yoda's close friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The fact that both of them had resurfaced had been enough to give him a headache. The other attacks and Lord Vader's report of the abandonment of Vjun put him in a truly astringent mood.
It wasn't that Vjun even mattered. It was a worthless planet. Its location had no strategic value for the Empire and the dark side energies there could also be harvested from Korriban, Ziost, or any of the other dozens of ancient Sith worlds. The planet had no natural resources of value. Due to the high acidity of the rain that dropped from the thick clouds, agriculture was impossible. Bast Castle was the only Imperial position there. Its loss was of little consequence. Vader had been given the planet to keep him out of the way. The only problem was morale. Since word had spread that he had constructed a super weapon with the power to destroy a planet within the blink of an eye and that that very same super weapon had been destroyed by a one man starfighter, many had defected from the Empire, favoring the Rebel Alliance instead. If word got out that Darth Vader's castle had been taken by the Rebels as well, fear of the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet would die. If the former Jedi Knight was no longer considered a symbol of fear, he would become truly useless.
Fortunately for Private Cordith, the Emperor was too busy considering his next course of action, rather than focusing on venting his frustrations on the nearest person he could find. His nerves were still running red hot, however. The silence that had grown between the two was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. The non-commissioned soldier was shaking visibly, despite his attempts to maintain control. Sidious smirked at this, enjoying the fear that his servant radiated. He bit his lip thoughtfully before looking up and addressing the pitiful man. "Have we had contact with Lord Vader?" he asked, choosing not to torment the man before getting down to business.
"He's alive, your majesty," Cordith replied. "He was injured during the assault by a Jedi Knight. He says that she caught him off-guard."
A third Jedi. Typical. Sidious sighed deeply. Had the Jedi Purges truly been a royal waste of time or was his apprentice truly that incompetent? It had been Vader who had been charged with finding the men and women who escaped the assault on the Jedi Temple during Operation: Knightfall. If a single Jedi had risen up to strike at the Empire, as a few had in the last generation, Sidious wouldn't have been concerned. Three uprisings which had been led by Jedi had occurred in the last twenty-four hours. It would seem that the Jedi had been biding their time and had chosen now as a prime moment to re-emerge. There were at least three that needed to be dealt with, though the Dark Lord was wise enough to know that assuming these three to be the only Jedi on his plate would be foolish. There were probably more. Kenobi and Yoda had probably spent all of this time in a secret academy, training new padawans to become Jedi Knights. Twenty years later, they were lashing out. It was a problem that he had thought himself finished with. To learn that the Jedi were still an influential force in the galaxy was infuriating.
"Tell Lord Vader to return to Coruscant," Darth Sidious ordered. "Along with the fleets. I want all of our defenses surrounding the deep core. We'll let Darth Revan handle the Rebellion for the time being. We must fortify our position."
"But won't all of our other worlds be left defenseless?" the private, who had studied quite a bit of military history during his time at the Imperial Academy, inquired.
"Yes," the Emperor said dismissively. "But I am certain that Darth Revan and the Rebellion will wipe each other out. Once they have, reclaiming our territory will be a simple matter."
Cordith didn't agree. If they left their worlds defenseless, this alleged Sith Emperor and the Rebel Alliance would starting claiming new worlds for themselves. After years of oppression and iron rule at the hands of the New Order, as some called the Empire, any alternative would seem pleasant in comparison. The number of individuals in both groups would skyrocket. Once both sides were inflated, they would start laying waste to the entire galaxy, ravaging the Empire's natural resources and killing billions of men and women that could serve as labor forces or future soldiers. He didn't see how this strategy would help the Empire in any way. As far as he could tell, it was an act of sheer cowardice.
Catching the stray thought as it wandered through his servant's mind, Sidious frowned. "Excuse me, Private?" He asked, contempt dripping from his tone like acid that burned into the young man painfully.
"I didn't say anything, sir," the soldier replied, confusion marring his features. He knew that he had done something wrong though. The Emperor's tone told him all he needed to know. He was dead.
"Silence," the Sith Lord hissed as tendrils of white hot lightning ripped from his finger tips, zapping the non-commissioned officer. A high pitched shriek pierced the air for several seconds before it died off. The body crumpled to the ground, wisps of smoking sizzling from the body.
Groaning in annoyance, the Emperor realized that he had just killed the man who had been his messenger. Now he needed to contact a scribe in order to relay the orders to the fleet. Grumbling, the old man chose to set that task aside for the moment. Maybe he, as the Emperor, would be pulling out of the war for the time being but as the Dark Lord of the Sith would do no such thing. There were too many prizes to be claimed and he would not allow them to simply slip through his grasp.
First, there was the Empire itself. It had taken him the majority of his life to secure control of the Galactic Republic and to reform it to his liking. Even now, there were still some obvious flaws to address. He had apprenticed himself to a Muun Sith Lord named Darth Plagueis, who had learned some of the deepest mysterious of the Force, including how to cheat death itself. The alien had been a brutal master and the decades of apprenticeship had been long and toilsome. Sidious had been tortured many times during this time period, only to come out stronger in the end. Knowing that his master was immortal while focused, the then middle-aged Sith apprentice had killed him in his sleep, taking the master's position of Dark Lord of the Sith.
He had already taken a young Zabrak as his student by that point. This apprentice served him faithfully for many years, up until his death on Naboo. During that time, Sidious had risen to power and become the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. From there, he located a new apprentice. Count Dooku, a former Jedi Master who had become disgruntled with the Order, had found him and fallen to the dark side. As Darth Tyrannus, Dooku initiated a civil war within the Republic and lead the Separatist forces against Coruscant. The war had provided the perfect cover for his true plan. While Tyrannus had kept the galaxy busy, Sidious had slowly siphoned the powers of democracy from the people, making him more of a monarch than a politician. At the end of the war, he was able to reform the Republic into the first Galactic Empire and replace Tyrannus with a new, more powerful apprentice: Darth Vader.
All had been well for the first few hours. There had only been one real attempt on his life, which had come from Yoda. Once this threat had been nullified, his reign was secure. No one would have the strength to challenge him. Unfortunately, the Jedi couldn't give up without robbing him of one of his key assets. Obi-Wan Kenobi had viciously mutilated Lord Vader, robbing him of his three good limbs and charring his body in the molten fires of the Mustafar system. The apprentice who had been so gifted in the Force was now little more than a shell of the Sith Lord he had been for a few shining hours. A replacement was long overdue.
That's where Darth Revan came into play. The Sith Emperor reminded him very much of Anakin Skywalker. As a Jedi, Skywalker had been powerful, passionate, and charismatic. Revan shared these same traits. According to the history archives, Revan been solely responsible for the outcome of two wars in the course of five years. From what the Dark Lord could tell, his opponent would make an excellent student. If only he could be swayed away from his archaic Sith Empire and come to see the wisdom of the teachings of Darth Bane. If Revan came to follow the Rule of Two, rather than the disorganized Sith teachings he currently followed, the Sith's hold on the galaxy would be complete. The two would make an invincible pair. Darth Vader and Darth Malak would be cast aside. Vader's loyalty was questionable and Sidious didn't feel safe letting Revan's current apprentice live. The change of power would make him ambitious. That was not something that he needed in another Sith Lord. Revan and only Revan could take the seat at Darth Sidious's right hand.
The prospect of watching Revan enter into a duel with Darth Vader was an exciting one. It was one that he could only anticipate with a child's glee. Smiling, he leaned back in his chair and pressed a button on his desk, calling for the mortician to report to his office. Over the years, the two had become familiar with one another and Sidious wanted to ask the man how his affairs were anyhow. Perhaps killing the private hadn't been such a bad idea.