Chapter 26 – Korriban Blues

"My friends and comrades!" Irenaceus bellowed, speaking to the camera droid. "Today is a glorious day! Today, I have turned Bastila Shan to the dark side! Her 'Battle Meditation', which has led her and the Republic to a few ultimately insignificant victories, shall now serve us instead! Only Revan stands in our way, and what hope does he have with Bastila at my side? Victory is assured, my dear Sith! Long live the Age of Irenaceus!" He deactivated the droid and sent it on its way, and then he began strutting about the bridge like a man possessed, so full of exuberance and joy that he could barely contain himself.

"Milord, I have rather pressing news for you," said Karath, who bore a very unusual look on his face. He looked almost happy, which was both strange and rather disturbing, for Irenaceus generally liked his subordinates to look upon him with fear and dread.

Irenaceus hesitated before answering. "This news...it isn't bad, is it? Because I've been in such a good mood today ever since I turned Bastila to the dark side, and I really don't want to hear bad news right now."

Karath took a step back, perhaps to move out of striking distance. "To be perfectly honest, Lord Irenaceus, it's bad."

He sighed. "Hmm, since I don't want my jolly mood spoiled, perhaps you could spin the bad news in such way that it sounds good."

"Spin the bad news so that it sounds good?"

"That's right."

He paused to think it over, and suddenly he stiffened his back and stood upright. "Lord Irenaceus, I am pleased to report that fuel expenditures for our fleet have been reduced by fifty percent!"

Irenaceus nodded. "Hmm, that is good news." He then narrowed his eyes. "How was this accomplished?"

Karath remained expressionless. "It was accomplished when half our fleet deserted us, milord."

He recoiled from the admiral. "What? This is terrible news! Why did they desert us?"

"I believe the effects of our proximity to the Malachor black hole may be having a...deleterious...effect on the mental health of our crews-"

Irenaceus slapped Karath hard across the face. "'Deleterious'? Admiral, remember what I said about using made-up words? Bah! No matter! With the Star Forge we'll have those ships replaced in no time!"

"But milord, we won't have the crew to man them."

That took the wind out of his sails, albeit momentarily. "I guess that means we'll have to step up our recruitment drive, won't we?"

"I'm afraid our recruitment numbers have fallen off rather sharply, milord. The headmaster on Korriban, Uthar Wynn, reports that there are so few acolytes that he may have to close the academy."

Irenaceus threw his hands up in the air. "Close the academy? Admiral, we are winning this war! How can people not want to join the winning side?"

Again, Karath looked like he was trying his hardest not to break out into a wicked grin. "It would seem, milord, that you have a bit of an image problem..."

"An image problem?" he roared. "How can I have an 'image problem'?"

"I have only heard hearsay and rumours, Lord Irenaceus, but there are some who say that you do not act...Sith...enough..."

Irenaceus spun around. "Then that is obviously their own stupidity talking. I am the most Sith of men! I am the most Sith of spirits!" he proclaimed proudly. "Look upon my works, witness my incomparable achievements, compare them with all the rest: you can say nothing except – I am Sith."

"Milord, if I may offer a suggestion..."

"If you must, then I suppose I can humour you..."

Karath cleared his throat. "Was there ever an act, milord, that you thought...crossed the line...perhaps? Something you felt was excessive?"

This strange question caught him off-guard. "If you remember, admiral, I did say in one of my broadcasts that I thought cutting off the head of that Echani general, Yusanis, and then sending his severed head to his bastard daughter was a bit much..."

"That is exactly what you must do, Lord Irenaceus," said Karath with a mad smirk on his face. "We Sith believe that there are no limits, and another bold, ruthless act will convince those who doubt you that you are a true Sith!"

"That makes sense. So what you're saying is, I should find someone important, cut his head off, and then send it to Yusanis' bastard daughter?"

"Erhm...no, milord. It must be an escalation of what you have done before."

"All right, so I find a bunch of important people, cut their heads off, then send them to Yusanis' bastard daughter?"

Karath gritted his teeth. "No, milord! It must be something far more sweeping in scope!"

He thought about it for a few seconds. "How about this: we launch an invasion of one of the Core Worlds; our furthest incursion into Republic space yet! Our fleet drops out of hyperspace, obliterates the planetary defence force, and then we start landing troops. Once we've taken control of the planet, we round up the entire civilian population, and then we have them all executed! The method of execution will be decapitation, of course, and we'll gather up all the severed heads onto a cargo ship, which we'll call The Big Barge O' Heads, and then send it to Yusanis' bastard daughter. How does that sound?"

"That is...not what I had in mind..."

Irenaceus rolled his eyes. "Then what did you have in mind, admiral?"

"I propose, Lord Irenaceus, that we institute a new decree for our soldiers and dark side adepts. Specifically, we will institute a new policy wherein they will be required to don armour and uniforms of a bright pink hue before going into battle."

Irenaceus blinked. "You want our soldiers to wear pink? If this is a joke, admiral, it's not terribly funny...not that I'd expect much from you when it comes to humour."

"I am being serious, milord. Imagine, if you will, that you are in a combat situation. Suddenly, you see one of your enemies striding in battle wearing armour that is an eye-searing shade of pink. How would you react? You would think to yourself, 'There is a man with absolutely no fear in his heart, for he is walking into a combat zone wearing naught but pink!' You would look upon him with absolute terror, knowing that the colour of his armour betokens only his utter contempt for you. You pose so little danger to him that he can wear the most garish colours imaginable without being threatened in the slightest. That is the impression we must give the Republic, milord! That we are so strong, so confident of victory, that we can dress like utter nancies without fear!"

Irenaceus nodded. "I must admit, you make a convincing case, admiral. Let us implement this policy at once!" He paused for a moment before adding, "But can we still make a Big Barge O' Heads and send it to Yusanis' bastard daughter?"

Karath sighed. "If you must, milord..."

Dreshdae was a truly dismal place, consisting of little more than a few dirty, durasteel structures surrounded by a number of tents and hovels. A handful of people were wandering about, kicking up small clouds of dust as they went, and none of them paid any attention to the new arrivals. One of the buildings was a cantina, indicated by a sign hanging by the entrance that read The Drunk Side. Nearby was another nondescript building, marked with the logo of the Czerka Corporation, which looked to be long-abandoned.

"Looks like a ghost town," Carth remarked.

"Gee, I wonder why?" Mission answered sarcastically.

Ahead, Aina caught sight of a grey-uniformed Sith, standing in front of two Twi'leks and a human. When she drew closer, she could hear him angrily berating them.

"Listen up, maggots! You want to call yourselves Sith? Then you'll have to do a lot better than the pathetic showing you've been giving me so far! If you actually make it through the academy without getting your heads rammed so far up your nether regions that it knocks out your teeth, then you will be proud to call yourselves Sith! But until that day, you are pukes! You are the lowest form of life in this galaxy! Do you understand me?"

"Y...yes, Master Shaardan!" the male Twi'lek whimpered.

"Question number five! You come across a man on the road, shot full of holes and screaming in pain! What do you do?"

"Uh...we...we get him medical attention?" answered the female Twi'lek.

The Sith grinned sadistically. "Well isn't that cute? But it's wrong!" He zapped the woman with a bolt of Force lightning, causing her to shriek in pain. "The correct answer is: you stop laughing and reload your blaster's power pak!"

"We...we understand, Master Shaardan!" said the human man, cowering in fear.

He too ended up being zapped with Force lightning. "Wrong again, maggot! You understand frak-all! The students in the academy will tear you apart! They'll play skip-rope with your entrails and grav-ball with your brains! They'll roast your eyeballs on skewers and play your ribs like xylophones! They'll cut your hearts out with rusty butter knives and grind your bones up into a fine powder used to treat intimate afflictions..." The Sith turned to face Aina as she approached. "Oh, it's another fallen Jedi come to join our ranks! Perhaps you would be so kind as to...assist...me with this quandary I now find myself in."

She crossed her arms, wanting nothing to do with this loathsome little man, but she had a role to play. "What do you need me for?"

"These three 'hopefuls' that you see before you – 'no-hopers' is more like it – think that they have what it takes to be Sith. As you can see, they obviously don't. An example needs to be made of them, but I am unsure as to what form it should take. I could reduce them to ash with Force lightning, but that is so terribly passé. I might humiliate them, forcing them to run through the academy sans clothing, but I doubt anyone would be shocked by that any more. I suppose the only option left for me would be to have them all dress up as fluffy pink bunnies and begin furiously paddling each other in the buttocks whilst screaming 'Bad boy! Bad boy!' But I was hoping that you have a better idea."

Aina glanced at the three misguided souls who had come to this world, unsure of whether she should feel pity or contempt for them. At any rate, she was not about to let this man bring any harm to them.

"I do have an idea," she said, calmly walking up the Sith. "I pretend to be on your side...and then I hit you."

"What-"

Before the Sith could react Aina decked him in the head with wicked left hook, knocking him unconscious to the ground. She then turned to face the three prospective Sith, who were gazing at her with a mixture of awe and terror. "I would get aboard the next ship leaving this world, if I were you. This is not the place for you...or anyone."

The human man opened his mouth to protest. "But-"

"Go! Now!" she barked.

The three "hopefuls" did as they were told, running off to the Dreshdae spaceport. Carth watched it all with a measure of relief, while Jolee just chuckled. "We've been on this rock for just a few minutes and already you're punching people in the face. Way to go, kid."

"Let's head to the cantina," said Carth, "we might learn something about how to get into the academy, and maybe something about my son."

"Did you know he was Force-sensitive?" Aina asked as they headed towards The Drunk Side.

Carth shook his head. "No, I had no idea. And I don't understand why he would join the Sith! I mean, they bombed Telos, killed his mother, and that's not even getting into all the other atrocities they've committed in this war."

"Perhaps the ruinous power...the dark side...has taken him?"

"Maybe...that's the thought that scares me the most."

The cantina was the most crowded building in Dreshdae, which was not saying much, as there were only a few dozen people present. It looked as though it had been the site of a major battle, as the walls were covered in scorch marks, holes, and scoring from lightsaber strikes. Upon the floor were several colourful stains, which Aina guessed was the dried blood of various alien species. A Rodian was serving drinks to a handful of Sith acolytes, all dressed in dreary grey uniforms.

Carth, however, was fixated on a young man sitting at a table in the far corner. "That's him. That's Dustil."

Aina followed him, bracing herself for the unpleasantness that was to come. Somehow, she suspected that this parent/child reunion would turn no better for Carth than it had for Bastila.

She could tell with one look that this was Carth's son, as their appearance was strikingly similar, although Dustil lacked Carth's barbaric facial hair. And she could also tell that this would not be a happy meeting, judging by the hostile look on Dustil's face.

"What...what is this?" Dustil sneered. "Some kind of joke?"

"D...Dustil, it's me! After all these years, I...I thought you were dead!"

He reclined in his chair, looking up at Carth with pure hatred in his eyes. "Oh look, it's father, come to rescue me at long last!" He spoke with a voice that Aina swore had been created specifically to annoy her. "I had a feeling you'd show up sooner or later. Did you really think I'd be happy to see you? Couldn't you have gotten whatever ship you were on blown up and spared me having to deal with you?"

Carth looked at his son with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "What...what are talking about?"

"Don't think I don't know about your reputation! How many ships have you gotten destroyed, father? Thirty four? Thirty five?" He took a swig from his glass, which Aina guessed was filled with some potently alcoholic beverage that had given him his bravado. "And did you think I would just forget the way you left mother and I to die on Telos?"

"No...no! I didn't abandon you, Dustil! The task force came too late! I...I held your mother in my arms as she died...I spent days looking for you-"

"Aw, go frak yourself!" Dustil fired back. "You abandoned us long before that! You weren't even there for most of my life! You were always away, never at home where you were needed!"

Carth clenched his teeth. "I had a duty to the Republic, Dustil! I tried to make you understand that!"

"Yeah, well, you had a 'duty' at home, too, when the bombing started and I was captured! You never really cared me or mother, did you? All you cared about was your job! Too bad you couldn't ever set foot on a ship without getting it blown up!"

Aina watched this all playing before her with growing disgust. "You let your son speak to you in this manner, Carth?"

Dustil looked up at her. "And who the frak are you? Father's new lover? Didn't think he was the type to go after the snow people!" He turned back to his father. "Gah! I don't need you! I've got a new family now, one that cares about me, one that fosters my talents!"

Mission, too, had had quite enough of this. She walked up to where Dustil was seated, snatched the drink off the table, and then threw it in his face. "You joined the Sith? Why, I oughta smack you so hard your head tails'll...well...you ain't got no head tails, but I'm still gonna smack you!" True to her word, she did just that.

"Ow! How dare you-"

"I hate to break it to you, Carth," said Mission, "but your kid's an idiot!"

Carth just sighed. "For once I agree with you, Mission."

"The Sith killed your mother," Aina said, walking up to the table, "and they ravaged your homeworld! How stupid can you be to have joined them?"

"The Sith aren't evil! They're not!" Dustil cried. "How many people have you killed, father? What makes you better than them?"

"I...I can't believe what I'm hearing. They've brainwashed you, Dustil! The son I know would never-"

Dustil stood up. "Don't tell me what I would or wouldn't do! You don't know me! You never knew me!"

"That's it, I'm getting you out of here. The Sith have poisoned your mind, filled you with all their-"

Carth's son had a lightsaber with him, and he reached for it. "Touch me and I'll kill you, old man! I swear-"

At last, Aina could take no more. Before Dustil could reach his weapon she delivered a backhand smack to his face, throwing him back into his chair. She then grabbed him by his left arm, slammed him down on the table, and held his arm twisted behind his back, pulling on it just hard enough to cause him no small amount of pain.

"Gyaaahhhh!" he cried. "Get her off! Get her off!"

She spoke right into his ear, her voice loud and firm. "You dishonourable kusipää! You have brought shame upon yourself, upon your father, and upon your family name! What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Let me go, you big albino-"

She twisted his arm, and once more he squealed in pain. "Look into your father's eyes! See the disgrace you have brought upon him!"

Mission rushed over to pick up Dustil's fallen weapon. "Ha! I got your lightsaber! What're you gonna do now, huh?"

"You frakking tailhead! I'll kill you!"

At this instant, Carth found his spine. "You want proof that the Sith are evil, Dustil?" he said, leaning in close. "Then why don't I take you to Taris, so you can walk through the radioactive ashes of a planet that was once home to billions before the Sith bombed it into oblivion? And they bombed it just to kill one woman, and they didn't even succeed at that! So not only are the Sith evil, they're also incompetent!"

"Yeah!" Mission added. "Being stupid is bad, and being evil is worse, but being stupid and evil is the worst thing of all!"

Dustil continued to protest. "The Sith...aren't...evil! The dark side is superior...stronger..."

That was sufficient to truly unleash Carth's anger. "What is your major malfunction, Dustil? I'll tell you what you're going to do...you're going to march out of this cantina, you're going walk straight towards the spaceport, and you're going get on board the next ship off this Force-forsaken rock! And the next words out of your filthy sewer will be 'Yes, father!' Do you understand that?"

"You can't-"

"Do you understand me?"

"Y...yes, father! Just tell her to let me go!" Judging from his pathetic, whining tone, whatever bravado the dark side had provided Dustil had quickly evaporated.

"All right, but I'll be checking to make sure you've actually left! And I swear, if I ever catch you with the Sith again..."

Aina released him from her hold, and Dustil immediately ran out of the cantina, whimpering all the while, completely devoid of dignity. She guessed he would not be returning to Korriban any time soon.

"Guess there's no love like tough love," Jolee remarked.

Aina was more surprised at the level of backbone Carth had just displayed. "I would not have expected Echani parenting from you, Carth."

He shrugged. "I was just channelling my old drill instructor, that's all. I don't know if it really solved anything; Dustil's still going to be angry at me, but at least he's not on this horrible world."

She found this more puzzling than anything else, especially the reasons for Dustil's hostility. "From what he said, he resented you for spending so much time fighting the Mandalorians. Did you not impress upon him the necessity of your duty?" Her own mother had spent much time away from Eshan fighting in that war, and Aina had never felt the slightest mote of bitterness towards her.

"I...I did, or at least I tried to. But that's what the dark side does, Aina...it feeds on your hatred and anger, and it makes you think that everything is suddenly about you, and all the wrongs done to you. I don't know how far my son's fallen into that dark well, but it's going to take more than a slap in the face and some berating to pull him out of it."

Aina began heading towards the exit of the cantina, when she found herself confronted by two more grey-uniformed Sith. One was a woman with short, blonde hair, the other was a greasy-looking man who looked (and smelled) as if he hadn't seen the inside of a sonic shower in weeks. Whoever they were, they looked to be spoiling for a fight

"Well, look at what we have here, Lashowe! It's a Jedi, and an Echani, no less! Does this mean we're going to deal with a double-dose of smugness at the academy? I hate her already."

"What is your name, Echani?" said the woman, her voice filled with arrogant contempt. "We've been watching you. What makes you think you can just stroll about Korriban like you own the place, hmm?"

She wondered how intimidating this woman thought she could be, given that she was nearly two feet shorter than she was. "What does it matter, whelp?"

Lashowe's companion took the opportunity to mock Aina's accented Basic. "Vaht dooz eet mahtterrr, velp?"

"Watch your tongue, Jedi!" Lashowe snapped. "Korriban is a Sith world, and here we Sith do as please. We could kill you and your companions and get away with it...just...like...that. Quite literally, whether you live or die depends on our whim. What do you think of that, hmm?"

The man leaned forward. "You know what my name is, Jedi? They call me 'Reaper'. And you better respect my name, or you will suffer, oh yes!"

Aina crossed her arms. "'Reaper'? So you are a cutter of grain, then? I am not threatened by farmers."

Lashowe gave her an angry squint. "Oh, the Echani thinks she's funny, does she? Then amuse us. Make us laugh. Maybe we'll spare your life. Come on, let's hear a joke."

Despite their ludicrous blustering, Aina could tell these two were more brag than brains, though the one who called himself 'Reaper' was clearly the weaker of the two. "Very well, a joke," she began. "Said the priestess to the warrior, 'Your ilmatyynyalus is full of ankeriaita.' To which the warrior replies, 'No it isn't, that is my kaasutin'."

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed between them before 'Reaper' made a few forced laughs. "Um...yeah, that's...uh...kinda funny, I guess..."

"No it isn't!" said Aina. "It was complete nonsense! That you laughed at it shows that you fear me. That is the joke."

Carth leaned over and whispered into Jolee's ear, "You know, I just don't get Echani humour..."

Lashowe shot Reaper a look of such hatred that it could have melted durasteel. "So you've proven that Reaper is an idiot. But you still haven't made me laugh, Jedi. You've got five seconds to do something amusing before I kill you."

Standing right in front of this absurd woman, it was almost too easy. Before Lashowe could get hand on her lightsaber, Aina struck her in the side of the head with a vicious right-hook, dropping her unconscious to the cantina floor. Reaper moved to intervene, but Aina froze him in place with a harsh glare that said, "One more move, and you're next."

"What do you think you're doing?" Reaper cried.

Her answer was completely deadpan. "She wanted me to do something amusing. I found knocking her out to be very amusing."

Reaper began dragging his unconscious companion out of the cantina, all the while he was making utterly impotent threats. "You'll pay for this, Jedi, I swear!"

She was about to say something to the others when someone spoke to her from behind. "I admire your spirit, Jedi. It was about time someone put those two in their place." It was a woman, one who's voice was soft and even, yet possessing an icy edge to it.

Aina turned to find herself standing in front of a Twi'lek, one that was, being honest with herself, rather frightening in appearance. Her head tails and eyes were a most unnatural-looking shade of purple, and there was a ghastly, veiny pallor about her skin that betrayed her deep immersion in the ruinous power. She bore several distinctive henna tattoos around her face, the meaning of which was lost on Aina.

"Who are you?" she asked, trying not to let her discomfort with this woman's appearance show.

"I am Yuthura Ban, Headmaster of the academy here on Korriban. I've had my eye on you since your arrival; that ship of yours, the Ebon Hawk, has been a frequent visitor to this world. The way you dealt with those thugs; and let us be honest here – that was what they were – impressed me. I tire of acolytes who mistake swagger and bravado for true ability."

"Then you must have guessed why I am here, then."

"You wish to learn the ways of the Sith, naturally. Yes, I can sense that you are strong in the Force, though it is unfocussed...have you had much training as a Jedi?"

Aina chose to answer truthfully. "Merely a few months."

"How strange, that the Jedi would let someone of such ability go so easily. But I have learned that there is no overestimating the folly of the Jedi. I will take you to the academy, if you wish, though there is the question of your companions."

"They are my slaves, that's all. Pay no heed to them."

Yuthura looked unconvinced. "Your slaves?" She walked over to Jolee. "Why would you keep this one as a slave? He is far too old and decrepit to be of any use to you."

"Now now," said Jolee, "I might not be able to scrub the floors or clean the 'freshers like I could in the old days, but I still can tell you a long, rambling story that goes nowhere. Like that one time, way back, when I was just a poor shoe-shiner on the streets of Eriadu-"

She wisely ignored him. "Very well, they may come with you, though you are responsible for their behaviour."

The entrance to the academy was but a short distance from the gate leading out of Dreshdae, and reaching it involved a short jaunt over a narrow pathway bordered by a sheer rock face on the right and a plummeting drop on the left. It provided a sweeping vista of the barren landscape of Korriban, if there were anything worth seeing (which there wasn't), and provided an easy means of disposing of the not-insignificant number of corpses that the academy produced.

The academy itself was located underground, accessed by a large set of durasteel doors. Above the entrance was stone plaque engraved with the words EVERYTHING NOT FORBIDDEN IS MANDATORY.

Yuthura opened the doors, leading the group into the dark, gloomy halls of the Sith Academy.

It was not what Aina was expecting. She thought it would be like all the other structures she had seen in the galaxy – cold, sterile, and brightly-lit, but the academy consisted of dark, stone walls, and the lighting was so dim that she could barely seen ten metres in any direction. Three hallways led away from the central chamber and into the darkness, with each passage flanked by a pair of statues depicting some humanoid race distinguished by a pair of tentacles hanging from their faces.

What struck her, though, was how empty the place seemed. She expected the academy to filled with hopefuls desperate to join the ranks of the Sith, but academy looked deserted.

After the doors behind them closed, Yuthura walked to the centre of the room, then turned and faced the group. "Now that we're here, I think we can drop the pretence. You are not here to join us, are you, Jedi? No, you have as much interest in the ways of the Sith as a Hutt has in the etiquette at a state dinner on Coruscant. And I can tell that those following you are hardly your slaves."

Her prescience surprised her, and Aina knew that further deception would accomplish nothing. "You are correct. I would never join the Sith, and I would wipe this 'academy' from the face of the galaxy if I had but the means!"

To her surprise, Yuthura just laughed. "That we agree upon. Are you surprised to hear me say that, Jedi?"

"Of course I am! You are Sith. You are my enemy."

"Had you come here five years ago, you would have been dead long before you reached this room. The Jedi were always sending 'infiltrators' to this academy, but we never failed to discover where their true allegiances lay. They would always hesitate to do things a true Sith would do without thinking."

"And what has changed since then?"

"More than you can imagine, Jedi. Do you have any idea how many Sith are on this planet?"

Jolee answered for her. "Twelve! No! Thirteen!"

"Try five."

That was hardly the answer he was expecting. "Oh...uh...you don't say..."

"That is down from six," Yuthura continued, "after the previous Headmaster, Uthar Wynn, took one of the academy's shuttles and departed yesterday. And even then, I can count five Sith only if I am extraordinarily generous with the definition of 'Sith'."

Aina was just as shocked as Jolee. "But...the Sith have had nothing but victory after victory in this war. Surely there would be no shortage of people wishing to join you."

Yuthura spoke at length, with no small amount of bitterness in her voice. "That may have been true, we were being led by anyone but Darth Irenaceus. Do you know what prompted Uthar to leave this place? Just the day before you arrived, Irenaceus made a proclamation that all Sith must henceforth dress in pink armour and uniforms...just another absurdity in a long string of absurdities. The damage you Jedi have inflicted upon the Sith is nothing compared to the damage Irenaceus has inflicted upon us. In a bizarre way, that makes you and me comrades-in-arms."

Aina remained sceptical. "I find that difficult to believe."

"That is because you have not seen what Irenaceus' 'leadership' has done to this place. Despite what the Jedi would have you believe, embracing the dark side does not result in the immediate destruction of one's mental faculties, and anyone with any degree of intelligence will have no interest in serving an imbecile like Irenaceus. There is more to the dark side than the Sith philosophy, and those who seek knowledge of its power are seeking it elsewhere. The people who come here now are little more than thugs and hooligans, as you have seen. But mere words will not convince you. Come with me."

Cautiously, Aina followed Yuthura down one of the hallways, which came to an abrupt end, being blocked by a heap of rubble. "What do you see here, Jedi?" Yuthura asked.

Aina frowned. "Nothing, just a hall filled with rubble."

"This hall used to lead to the east wing of the academy, which was once a vast archive containing the greatest collection of Sith holocrons in the galaxy. But a year ago, a groundquake collapsed the east wing. As you can imagine, we were quite desperate to rebuild it and recover the holocrons kept inside, so Uthar ordered his immediate subordinate to purchase some heavy lifting equipment from Czerka and clear away the debris so that the archive could be rebuilt. But one of our students, Mekel, thought that resorting to technological means to accomplish one's goal was a sign of weakness, so he slew the man and began lifting the rubble away with the Force."

"And someone slew him, I take it?"

"They did. Mekel had made many enemies during his time on Korriban, and as he struggled to lift the debris out of the way, he could not stop the blade that was thrust into his back. His killer thought that the work of rebuilding the archive was beneath that of any true Sith, so he contacted Czerka in the hopes of purchasing several Wookiee slaves for the task. But during negotiations with the Czerka representative he became angry, believing that Czerka was charging far too much. His passions got the better of him, and he cut off Czerka rep's head with his lightsaber. As you can imagine, Czerka was rather displeased at this turn of events, and now they refuse to do business with us."

"And then what?"

"Nothing, that's what. No one has since managed to rebuild the east wing, or even clear away the rubble. This is a task that would have been accomplished in days on any other world, yet for us was an insurmountable obstacle." Yuthura stepped forward. "You see, Jedi, as much as I blame Irenaceus for our fate, the Sith philosophy itself is flawed. It only really works if there are exactly two Sith – one to possess power, the other to desire it. Otherwise, we destroy ourselves with infighting and accomplish nothing excepting fighting the Jedis' battles for them. And I am sure that Irenaceus would like nothing better than for us to scheme and plot against each other endlessly, as it means we'll never realise that he is our greatest enemy."

Behind Yuthura's cold voice Aina could sense a great deal of regret and despair. "If you are so disillusioned with the Sith way of life, then why remain here?"

"I have no intention of remaining here. Soon I will leave this place to its fate, which is to be pawed over by every grave robber and tomb raider in the galaxy. Let them come. There is no indignity they can inflict upon Korriban that Irenaceus hasn't already. If you do not believe me, go the Valley of the Dark Lords, where he demanded that we construct a statue of his former master, Darth Revan. But he wouldn't tell us what Darth Revan looked like or even if Revan were a man or woman. When the artist assigned to the task complained, Irenaceus killed him."

Aina had to resist the urge to laugh. "You...you don't know, do you?"

Yuthura frowned. "Know what?"

"Darth Revan never existed. He was just a figment of Irenaceus' imagination."

This was such a thoroughly bizarre turn that Yuthura did not reply at once. "Normally, I would not believe you, but knowing Irenaceus, this is disturbingly...plausible. It would explain why we could never learn anything about Revan, despite how much Irenaceus spoke of him, and why the story was always different every time someone asked how he had met Revan." Her voice turned cold once again. "But enough of this. If you have not come here to join us, then why have you come here, Jedi?"

"I seek the Star Map, the one Irenaceus would have found here."

"Yes, I know of what you speak. It is located in the tomb of Naga Sadow, which Uthar kept sealed off from the academy's students. I will allow you access, but first, you must do something for me."

Aina did not like where this was going. "And what might that be?"

Yuthura spoke plainly. "My task is simple: there is an artefact that I desire – the Sceptre of Marka Ragnos. I do not know if that name means anything to you, but Ragnos was a Sith Lord who lived over a thousand years ago. He created a sceptre that could store and release Force energy and, it is said, empower ordinary beings with Force-sensitivity. I have no use for such a thing myself; I only wish to keep such powerful artefacts as far away from Irenaceus."

"And you expect us to believe that?" Carth said, not even trying to hide his disdain. "You just want it for your own purposes. The Sith will do anything for power."

Yuthura's expression did not change. "You would be as much a fool as Irenaceus to trust in my benevolence. But if you wish to find your Star Map, you'll have no choice but to trust me."

"And what assurance do we have that you'll hold up your end of the bargain?" Aina asked.

"None whatsoever. But I know that you seek Irenaceus' downfall as much as I do, and I have no interest in betraying you."

"But why do you need us for this task? Are you not capable of it yourself?"

A look of self-doubt flickered across Yuthura's face. "Ragnos, like every other Sith Lord buried in the Valley, did not want anyone looting his tomb...or at least those he did not deem worthy. There are not just traps inside is tomb, but tests as well. Given the sort of imbecilic brutes that have inhabited this academy since Irenaceus took control of the Sith, you can imagine that none of our students have ever been able to pass these 'tests'. And if you must know why I have not attempted to retrieve the sceptre myself, then I will ask you this question: do you have any regrets?"

"That is none of your business," Aina answered coldly.

"Maybe not, but the dark side is strong there, and it will know your regrets, your fears, and your secrets. And it will make you face them."

She wasn't quite sure she understood what the tattooed Twi'lek was talking about. "Are you saying the tomb is...alive?"

"In a way...you will understand my words when you experience it for yourself. Now, if you will simply follow me..."

With little choice in the matter, Aina and the others followed Yuthura as she led them through the dark halls of the academy. "There was time when this place was filled with acolytes striving to learn our ways," she said, with clear regret in her voice. "Life here was cruel, it was paranoid, it was bloody, and I revelled in every single moment of it. Uthar Wynn was a brilliant instructor. When any one of us failed him, he would punish all of us, telling us that it was our fault for allowing weakness within our ranks. In that way we grew to despise the weak and unworthy, and we felt no pity as we cut them down."

"But something changed, didn't it?" said Aina. Though she did not trust this woman, there was something about her that suggested she was on the cusp of abandoning the dark side, and it would not take much to convince her to forsake it altogether.

"I was once a Jedi, like you. But I was disgusted at their apathy, their pointless dithering and unwillingness to confront the true evils in the galaxy, and so I turned away from them. The Sith welcomed me, told me that my rage and hatred were not something to be avoided and feared, but something to be embraced. With the dark side at my command I thrived in this place, not caring at all that the Sith were being led by a former actor, and not a very good actor, at that. It wasn't until Irenaceus started broadcasting that asinine holovid talk show of his that I started questioning what it meant to be a Sith. I believed that the strong rose to the top and the weak were left to fall by the wayside. But Irenaceus wasn't strong, he was just stupid. Why should he claim the mantle of Dark Lord? I had seen so many others in this academy die who were far stronger and more cunning than he was."

"Guess it's true what they say," Carth said. "The fish rots from the head down, and the scum rises to the top."

"I came to realise," Yuthura continued, "that it was the will of the Force that Irenaceus should lead us. You see, Jedi, we Sith believe that we can bend the Force to our purposes, while the Jedi weakly choose to abide by its will. But the truth is that both the Jedi and the Sith are slaves to the Force's whims; the Jedi are just willing to admit it. Irenaceus claims that he is the Sith'ari, the one who has freed himself from all restrictions, who has reached perfection. But it also foretold that the Sith'ari will lead the Sith and destroy them, and Irenaceus is certainly doing a fine job of that. And perhaps he has reached perfection, if 'perfection' for a Sith means perfect stupidity."

At last she brought them to a large set of heavy durasteel doors. "Beyond here is a narrow ravine that will take you to the Valley of the Dark Lords. You will recognise the tomb of Marka Ragnos by the pair of black obelisks flanking the entrance."

"Tombs!" Jolee exclaimed. "You all love tombs, don't you?"

"A word of warning, Jedi," said Yuthura, her tone utterly sober and dire. "There are many tombs in the valley, and many still retain the treasures and artefacts hidden within. As I have said, I do not care if you wish to plunder them or not, but there is one tomb that you must never enter, under any circumstance."

Aina suddenly found herself rather curious. "Oh? And which one might that be?"

"The tomb of Ludo Kressh," she replied, a tinge of fear in her voice. "Think of the very worst place you can imagine, the one place that you would subject yourself to the worst possible torment just to avoid going to. If your people believe in a hell – an afterlife of endless torment – then imagine that. Now, picture a location even worse than that, and you will have pictured the tomb of Ludo Kressh."

"Grife," Carth exclaimed, "what kind place are we talking about, here?"

"A few months ago, a student dared to enter the tomb," she explained. "He spent only a minute or so inside, but when came back out he was babbling incoherently, and he had clawed his eyes and cut his tongue into two halves. Before that, Lashowe dared another student to spend the night in the tomb, and we found him outside the entrance the following morning. He had gnawed his own head off!"

Aina frowned. "How would anyone be able to do that?"

"He found a way! I don't know sort of dark power dwells in that place, but not even Irenaceus was foolish enough to venture there. That alone should convince you of the danger. Now be off with you, and do not return until you have the sceptre in your possession."

Thousands of light years away, Irenaceus' mind was also on Korriban, in particular, on the message Uthar Wynn had just transmitted to him. Admiral Karath had informed Irenaceus of the message and brought a holoprojector so that he could view it, but all Irenaceus could think about was that smug, self-satisfied smirk on the admiral's face. Why should Karath feel happy now, especially after half their fleet had deserted them, after their ship had narrowly avoided destruction at the hands of the romance authors' guild, and after the news that the academy on Korriban was being closed down? Why should he be pleased after all these setbacks? Irenaceus could not figure it out.

"Let's see what Uthar Wynn has to say for himself."

He began playing the holorecording, and a shimmering, blue-tinged image of Uthar Wynn appeared before him. Irenaceus always thought Uthar looked idiotic, with his shaved head and ridiculous facial tattoos. Did he honestly think this made him look intimidating?

"This is a message from Uthar Wynn, former Headmaster of the Sith Academy, to Merdinus Deculo. I shall not speak your Sith name, for you are no Sith!"

"Hmph...Uthar Wynn...more like Uthar Lose. Ha ha! Get it? I slay myself sometimes..."

"For years I have served as Headmaster, instructing students in the ways of the dark side and instilling in them the virtues of the Sith. I brooked no weakness, no cowardice, no sympathy! Those who emerged successful from my tutelage were finely-honed instruments of death, and those who failed did not live to taint our ranks with their feebleness."

"Yes, yes, yes, get on with it, baldy!"

"But all that changed once you declared yourself Dark Lord. For years I watched as you undid everything we Sith had striven to accomplish, and I am disgusted with the mockery you are turning us into! You are like a hurricane, destroying everything in your path without sense or reason. You do not conquer worlds, you obliterate them. You do not illuminate people with the truth of our ways, you simply destroy them. You possess no wisdom, no insight, no true strength. Your victories do not prove your superiority; they are an illusion."

"Where did you get those tattoos? From a bunch of finger-painting children?"

"Henceforth I shall serve you no more! The empty halls of the this academy stand as silent witnesses to your folly. There was a time when those wishing to gain admittance to our academy would fight each other to the death merely for the privilege of being a student, but now no one comes save the dregs of the galaxy. Those who wish to learn the secrets of the dark side have decided that the Sith can offer them nothing. And for all this, and for so much more...I blame you. You, who has brought us to the brink of ruin. You, who is naught but a blind, fumbling, gibbering caricature of a Sith. You, who is impervious to logic and reason. My only hope is that you will meet your just end at the point of a Jedi's lightsaber, and that the Sith will curse your name for aeons to come."

The holographic image of Uthar Wynn winked out of existence. As far as Irenaceus was concerned, his speech had gone in one ear and out the other, and all he remembered as that Uthar had said something bad about him.

"So Uthar has betrayed us, has he?" He whipped around to face Karath. "Admiral, set a course for Korriban at once! I want to bomb that miserable academy into dust, do you hear me?"

"You wish to bomb one of our own worlds, Lord Irenaceus?"

"Of course! I can't possibly allow this brazen betrayal, can I?"

Once more a smug look flashed across the admiral's face. "But is betrayal not a part of the Sith philosophy, milord?"

"You don't understand, admiral! I can betray whomever I wish, but no one is allowed to betray me! Now get this ship moving!"