Chapter 25

Zak returned to Korriban three days later, standing tall as he left the standard Lambda-class shuttle the Republic had given him—Zak had left Darth Nemuritor's shuttle behind as a gift to the Jedi. The first thing he did when the dark-clad shock troopers swarmed around him was demand to see the Sith. The second had been to hand over his lightsaber and put his hands behind his head.

Being arrested wasn't surprising. He knew his Sith counterpart would be irritated, enraged even, that Zak had escaped with half of his trophies. What did surprise him was that, hours after being thrown back into his cell, the lady Lumiya and one of her Disciple companions came for him. They said nothing of where they were taking him when they had awoken him, but Zak hadn't needed the Force or their answers to find out. There was only one place they would take him: the throne room.

But something wasn't quite right. The walls lining the corridors weren't made of stone or ferrocrete like he'd expected of the Sith's enclave. Instead, they were comprised of thick durasteel and other metal plates, all overlaying—

"Are we on a ship?" he asked Lumiya when comprehension sunk in. All he got by way of response was a rough shove in the back.

He stumbled forward, picked up his stride again, and continued on.

He figured that they must have moved him during those brief hours that he'd been asleep. Oddly enough, it should have woken him. He'd long accepted his fate as a moderate-light sleeper, so he found it irregular that he hadn't noticed being moved from Korriban to whatever ship he was on now.

They approached a lift and Lumiya lengthened her stride and slipped around Zak to hit the summons control by hand. By the time Zak and the other darksider reached the lift, it had arrived and was open, waiting for them.

When they'd all stepped into the lift, Lumiya slapped the control pad inside in what looked to be a random manner, but which didn't fool Zak as blind precision. He found himself reminded of the last time he'd made a similar trip; back on Korriban after Lumiya had incapacitated him and dragged him and his friends back to the True Sith capital world.

How long had it been since then; a week, two weeks maybe? He'd been escorted to see the Sith then, too. Only then, he hadn't known their identities. In truth, he hadn't even known he was being taken to see them, and hadn't known until seeing them that they were Sith.

In hindsight, however, he suspected that Alitha had known about the Sith, their identities. The way she had looked at him in their cell led evidence to that. She'd said she knew who he was "trying" to be. That should have been a galactic hint, but Zak hadn't been shrewd enough to take it.

Movement to his left drew his attention and he saw Lumiya shifting to look away from him. Unexpectedly, he found himself wondering what his chances would be like if he tried to take her by surprise. He didn't like the odds; they were in a confined space, and she had backup. But he figured that if he was quick enough, he might just take her lightwhip from her before either she or her companion reacted.

But then what? Dismember himself, out of sheer ignorance of how the weapon worked in comparison to the simplicity of a lightsaber? One wrong flick of the wrist, and he'd take his own head off instead of the darksiders' heads.

It was that consideration, and the memory of Lumiya severing his leg with that weapon back on the empty Cab'uL Tuar, that put him off those thoughts immediately. One week or two—the shock of having lost the leg and then having it reattached by whatever surgical technicians the True Sith employed was too fresh. He didn't particularly want to be put through that again with the other leg, or one of his arms.

Lumiya's companion shifted on Zak's other side and touched the control pad a split second after the lift stopped. The doors parted with a hiss and together, the two of them shoved Zak forward.

"I'll be a son of a …" He let the comment die and looked over his shoulder to see the lift had closed again and taken Lumiya and the other Disciple away from the chamber.

Zak turned on the spot, looking around the vast chamber to examine it. He noticed at once that, though the steady stream of white and blue through the massive transparisteel viewport gave away that they were on a ship in hyperspace, the room he was in now was exactly like the Sith's throne room on Korriban.

"Do you like it?" his own voice called to him from high across the chamber.

Zak directed his gaze down from the ceiling and saw that the Sith were both seated their marble thrones atop the stairs. Neither of them looked particularly happy to see him; not even Darth Nemuritor, who usually took his presence with a sort of guarded curiosity. Now, he just looked furious, hostile … dangerous.

"Not really," Zak said, shrugging indifference.

"You have a lot of nerve returning to Korriban and demanding to see me," Nemuritor hissed, pushing himself up from his throne.

Zak shrugged again and stopped at the midpoint of the stairway. "Your Republic allies didn't prove to be as interesting, then, I suppose?" the Dark Lady said mockingly. Zak didn't rise to the bait, but he could tell from the identical smiles on their faces that both of them thought that her comment had been humorous.

Zak chanced another look around the spacious throne room. He noticed that while the pillars and ornamental areas replicated those from the throne room on Korriban, they were all made of durasteel, rather than polished marble and stone.

A metallic glint drew his attention back to the Sith couple, and he fought to contain his gratitude at seeing that his lightsaber was once more proudly displayed. It rested securely on the armrest of the Emperor's throne, wedged between the raised point and a control pad. It was as if it had been put there deliberately to taunt him, to challenge him, to let him know that they held his power away from him and that he had nothing over them.

They were wrong, but he didn't bother to correct them; not yet.

"You may wish to brace yourself against something," Nemuritor said suddenly, seating himself once more. Zak was too preoccupied coming up with a response that he didn't brace himself in time. The ship suddenly decelerated from light speed and he stumbled forward a couple of steps.

He fell forward, and braced himself on the stairs in front of him with his hands to prevent his face making the collision. He held himself in that position for a few moments as the ship's sub-light engines kicked in and it started to move again.

"Where are we?" he asked as he pushed himself back to his feet.

"Why don't you come and take a look for yourself?" Devess said, still smiling down at him. Zak eyed her suspiciously as she swivelled her throne around and swept her hand toward the viewport invitingly.

He shot another look at his lightsaber before taking the Sith up on the invitation. He stepped up to the side of Devess's throne and looked out through the massive viewport to see exactly why the two Sith were so pleased.

"I really must thank you," Nemuritor said softly, "for giving us the means to crush the Republic once and for all."

Zak felt a tiny stab of terror try to gain a hold of his insides. But he couldn't let it find purchase. He had expected this, actually. In fact, he had even planned for it. But still, seeing so many of the True Sith's capital ships moving into assault formations did nothing for his nerves.

A part of him wanted to spin in place and reach for his lightsaber; strike down both of the Sith, or die trying, to distract them from their planned assault on the Galactic Capital so far away, yet within naked sight. But it was rash, hasty, ill-thought. Alone, his Sith counterpart was already his superior in the ways of the Force. It was all Zak could do to keep him out of his head. But together, with his Sith wife by his side, it would be a miracle if Zak survived the encounter.

He would only reach for his lightsaber if they left him no other choice. He could only fight them when he knew they were about to try and kill him.

Again, Zak graced the couple with an indifferent shrug. "Do not try to hide your fear from me," Nemuritor snarled. "I can feel it boiling within you, threatening to break the surface."

"I know about the tracer link you had installed on that shuttle, Your Highness," Zak said plainly. "I knew you would use it to find a way to penetrate into Coruscant space and bypass the outer defences." He didn't even bother to deny the Sith's statement about his fear. There was no point to lying when he knew they'd sense it.

"And yet you did nothing to prevent this?" Devess started, disbelief colouring her words. "Nor did you take measures to ensure that the Republic would be ready for us?"

"This is not my universe," Zak said. "Why would I seek to interfere in the events that take place here, not knowing how, if at all, they would affect my own home? If there is some sort of balance to existence, one could conceivably argue that helping the Republic here finish you off would result in the Republic I know being destroyed."

"Wisdom far beyond your years," Devess said. She didn't believe him. But Zak wasn't surprised by that. Belief required trust, and trust was not a trait of the Sith, as a rule of survival.

"Belief isn't a prerequisite of the truth," Zak said smartly.

"Cheek isn't a prerequisite of your survival!"

Zak didn't even bother to reply to the Sith's rebuttal. He continued to gaze out at the planet in the distance as it grew larger and larger with the approach of the Sith fleet. At some point, Zak was aware of obstructions between them and Coruscant—the Republic fleet, he guessed.

The fleet that the Sith had assembled really looked like a hybridisation of ships he knew with designs he didn't. They were bulky and large with rounded ends and sharp points. The command modules were located as far to the rear as was serviceable, jutting down below the ship, rather than above it. Fins extended for dozens of meters above and to the sides of the main hull. But the ships themselves looked like they were partly organic mixed with Imperial designs likely stolen from the True Sith's conquest and destruction of the Hutts and the Imperials.

Every ship in the fleet had a pair of large domes on the topside, each housing the gravity well generator and cloaking equipment needed. Every ship was covered from stern to bow in ion cannon and laser batteries, missile ports and proton torpedo launchers, and banks upon banks of turbolasers in between.

He frowned.

Of course a future Sith Empire ruled by a pair of merciless Sith Lords would have made sure that their fleet was so dangerously armed. They would need power like that to destroy their enemies, and to keep their conquests and subordinates in line.

But, he thought to himself grimly, if they were so well armed, how was it that the New Republic had survived the war for so long. What gave them enough edge to deter the Sith forces, if not completely, at least partially?

He shot an uncertain glance over at his Sith counterpart, who was merely gazing through the viewport with a kind of … gleeful anticipation, it looked to Zak. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment for so long that he couldn't quite believe that it was actually happening.

"If only I could destroy the planet in its entirety and end this war right here and now," Nemuritor said with a wistful sigh. Zak hated his callousness, and found himself again fighting the urge to snatch up his lightsaber. "Coruscant is such an insignificant, troublesome planet; the seat of power for so many corrupt and failed governments over the millennia."

"Then why don't you destroy it?"

Nemuritor waved a hand absently over what Zak realised was a holographic pad on the end of the left armrest of his throne. It hummed to life and an image shimmered and took form mere inches above the plate. "This is the ship we are on," the Sith said.

Zak recognised it.

Back home, it had been called Eclipse. It was an apt name, since it dwarfed standard Republic and Imperial ships by kilometres. It had been constructed in secret at the Kuat shipyards during the civil war, possibly since even before then. It was said to have been Palpatine's personal flagship. It had indeed served in such a manner seven years after the defeat of the Empire at Endor when Palpatine's clone had taken charge of what was left of the Empire and formed it into the Empire Reborn.

Zak knew of the story mainly because it was a one that haunted Luke Skywalker the most. He remembered the gaunt look on Skywalker's face when he recounted how it had taken him and his father to defeat the Emperor the first time around, and how he had been more or less alone against the clone. He had willingly taken a position as the clone's darksider apprentice in order to get close to him and kill him.

It wasn't an experience he was proud of.

The Eclipse was easily more than fifteen times the length of a standard Imperial II Star Destroyer; its hull was adorned with weaponry of all sorts, including backup power and shield generators, gravity well projectors and sensor cloaks. But the most terrifying aspect of the ship itself had been that the upper spine of its hull had been a singular replica of one of the eight converging lasers from the dreaded Death Star. While not nearly as powerful as the weapon it had been taken from, it was powerful enough that it could have transformed a significant portion of the planet-city of Coruscant into a massive crater of nothing.

But when Zak looked upon the hologram of the Sith version of the Eclipse—called Bane on the diagram—he could see no indications of such a weapon. He gathered that it either was not on the ship itself, or that it had been concealed from the schematics in case of theft.

"Your thoughts betray you," Devess whispered from close by. "We have no need for such a weapon. You have observed our fleet; it is clear our strength is without equal."

"If your fleet's power is without equal, as you say, then why haven't you destroyed the Republic before now?" Zak challenged.

Neither of them replied to his inquiry, but he sensed the hostility in their moods shoot up several notches. He knew his time was running out. Taunting the Sith was not going to do him any favours. He would need his lightsaber very, very soon.

"You want this … don't you?" Darth Nemuritor said from Zak's other side. He turned to face the Sith and saw that he was smiling wickedly at him, absently petting the long lightsaber shaft on the arm of the throne. "Brilliant. I can feel the hatred swelling in you now."

"Go ahead," Devess urged from the other side as if by cue. "Take your Jedi weapon; strike him down with it. Give in to your hatred, and you can take his place and rule the galaxy by my side!"

The thought was tempting. Not the thought of ruling the galaxy, let alone by anyone's side. No; the thought of striking down the unarmed and possibly unprepared Sith counterpart was the temptation. They were goading him, and he was annoyed to find himself almost rising to the bait. Of course, if he did pick up the lightsaber, the Sith need do nothing to defend himself. His wife would have stepped in with her own weapon and saw to it that he was defended.

He turned away, back toward the viewport and the ships outside continuing to advance on Coruscant. Ahead, the Republic fleet drew closer, moving into defensive formations Zak recognised would hold against the formation the True Sith ships were currently deployed in.

He shook his head to clear away the temptation clouding his judgement.

A lightsaber hissed to life from his right and quick as a flash, Zak reached for his own, snapped one of the deadly blades to life and twirled the hilt around his fingers. He brought his blade around in time to defend from the surprise attack by Darth Devess.

The blades clashed and crackled against each other. Zak shoved her away and back-flipped down several stairs to put some distance between the two of them.

"I'm afraid," Nemuritor said gleefully as he pushed up from his throne, "that I have grown tiresome of your defiance. Even if I knew how, I see no reason I would send you back to your own world, knowing that you would deny the greatness you were meant for. And it is beyond viability for you to join the ranks of our Disciples.

"So I suppose the answer is death, then?" Zak said.

Nemuritor descended the steps from the throne slowly, staying one step ahead of the Dark Lady. Devess still had her lightsaber in hand and ready, the red glow gleaming against the artificial, phrik-plated arms of her lover. "I believe so," Nemuritor said.

He thrust out with his left hand. Zak had no time to counter the powerful, invisible wave that slammed into him like a speeding skiff and threw him clear across the throne room. He crashed into the guardrails of the landing above the life tubes and groaned at the force of the impact before falling to the floor, lightsaber still in hand.

When he pushed himself to his feet, he activated the second blade of his lightsaber and looked up to see that Nemuritor had drawn his own.

Zak wasn't entirely surprised to note that the Sith's lightsaber's design was a mirror of his own—though only by half. His other self had not considered, it seemed, to build a dual-bladed weapon like Zak had. It was all the more his problem.

One of Skywalker's lessons rang clearly in his mind, when. Skywalker had lectured him on the physics of his lightsaber in a fight when, after returning to lessons after his brief skirt with the dark side, Zak had asked him for help in getting used to the weapon. At the time, Zak had very few memories even using the weapon. He'd only recalled his and Jaina's escape from Darth Pravus's space station, and nothing of duelling the Sith on Coruscant.

"Remember this, Zak;" the older Jedi had said to him, "with the style of weapon that you have made, you need to be more intelligent and aware than someone without. Your opponent will only need to know the position of one of your weapon's blades to automatically know the location of the other one."