Shadow of the Phoenix

by SLotH4

Centuries have passed since the Empire fell, and decades of war and strife have forged a ruthless galaxy. An expansionist Galactic Alliance looms over an upstart Mandalorian Union. A hardened Jedi Order teeters on the brink of light and dark. The Fellan Imperium awaits their chance to ascend once more. As rising tensions threaten war, it only takes a spark to set the galaxy aflame.

16. Dust in the Wind

A/N: Here's part three of what was supposed to be a single chapter. Again, sincere thanks to Xabiar for helping to expand it in places.

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Shadow of the Phoenix

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Dust in the Wind

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Prince Lestko Beni'vel walked barefoot across the dark waxam wood floor with a pair of wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of Kaasi wine in the other. The soft padding of his steps was muted out of habit – sneaking away from his minders made it second nature. For the first time in a long time, he felt genuinely happy as he walked the halls of the palace. It still felt like a prison at times, but he was gradually asserting his own prerogatives. The courtiers were still a nuisance, but they were being corralled and defanged with each passing year.

Walking past an immaculate dinner table – with nary a single speck of dust – he looked to the balcony and saw her. She wore her flowing nightgown. The emerald silk complementing the beautiful crimson locks that fell past her shoulders in curled bunches. He watched her, wondering if she knew he was near. She seemed oblivious, but he knew better than to assume anything when it came to his new bride.

Princess Carolin Shan-Beni'vel was using her fingers to direct a pair of songbirds to dance for her in perfect synchronicity. They were compelled to sing a melody to the song Carolin herself sang – though she was off-key as usual. It was uncanny and disturbing. Just a hint of what the 'Beast Princess' was capable of. Some said the nickname with disdain in the quiet corners of the palace, but Carolin embraced it unapologetically.

He loved that about her. She could out-schmooze the greatest of courtiers when she needed to. But she wasn't afraid to be herself when she felt like it. The charisma vacuums they dealt with on a daily basis could never pull off authenticity like that. It's why the peasants adored her and scorned those who disparaged her. She was someone the courtiers and Families wished they could ignore, but her position and force of personality made that impossible.

He wondered how much of her demeanor was due to her position. Would she be so brazen if they had not wed? Perhaps with time.

Lestko approached and placed the wine glasses on the balustrade as the song came to an end. If he wanted to tease her, he would call it a 'merciful end.' Experience taught him not to do so when she was in control of a nearby animal. He blanked his thoughts on it as he eyed the songbirds warily.

He poured them each a glass, handing one to Carolin and clanking his into hers in a toast. They each took a sip and gazed out over Kaas City – separated from them by acres of manicured gardens and fish ponds.

Carolin broke the silence, "Thanks, Les."

He smiled. "I've been saving that bottle for a special occasion."

She looked at him with a crooked smile. "What's the occasion?"

"Maybe there isn't one, and I just got sick of waiting to open it."

She looked away but kept her smile. The twinkling lights of the city were a captivating bit of scenery, especially with the stars obscured by clouds. They stood there and stared, content to be near one another in comfortable silence. He quietly thanked the Force for his good fortune in having Carolin by his side. Had he been wed to one of the other suitresses, a night such as this might have been more tedious than enjoyable – especially if he'd been stuck with that bore Sophadri Beniko.

"I wonder if we'll be safe here," Carolin pondered aloud.

Lestko shrugged slightly before sipping more wine. Earlier that day, the Sith Collective had contacted the palace to explain that a traitor had instigated a Jedi attack on Cholganna and that there would be an emergency meeting of the High Council tomorrow. Every Sith Order had received a similar warning, alongside instructions to prepare for a similar attack on them. Smaller Orders were advised to move operations just to be safe.

But what could the Order of Darth Nox do? Flee Dromund Kaas and Dromund Fels? Where would they go? They had billions of people. Even if they had a destination, the logistics alone made it impossible. They didn't have enough ships or food or time. All they could do was fortify the planet, and even that felt daunting.

He thought back to what his… secret… advisor had said.

"I think we'll be okay. The Dromund System is mostly unknown outside of the Sith." He took another sip. "It might actually be an opportunity."

Carolin snorted into her own glass. "I've never been a fan of fearmongering for the sake of consolidating power. Feels barbaric."

"I would agree, but I would also point out the politicking that is ruining us. The Families squabble over scraps of power and prestige while the other Sith laugh into their sleeves."

"It is pathetic," she agreed, "If that is the course you wish to take, I will not object, but please be careful. I've seen the echoes of this world, Les. I've seen what fearmongering can lead to if not handled carefully."

"I do not intend to rule as a tyrant. However, I will not stand idle as the galaxy conspires against us. The Jedi might not be a threat to us right now, but they could be in the future. Worse though, I fear what will befall us should the Collective succeed and devolve into civil war." He finished his wine and set down the empty glass, rolling the stem between his fingers. "We are among the weakest of the Sith Orders. We won't stand a chance as we are now."

"We need not stand alone, Les. Our overtures to Caedus are already bearing fruit."

"I know, but even then, it doesn't feel like an equal partnership. Allies should be able to aid one another, otherwise we're a mere protectorate and Alexander is our overlord." He looked at her and smiled, though it was a tired expression. "Darth Nox once unified the galaxy. We are supposed to be her legacy, and yet…"

Carolin placed a comforting hand over his. "There is no dream big enough we can't accomplish. All it takes is the will of a strong leader, and the Order of Nox has two."

He embraced her, burying his nose in her hair and smelling the fruity shampoo she used. "I'll be glad to see this wretched system of ours overturned. I'll be glad to see our people strengthened and respected."

"It will take time, but we've already planted the seeds," she said, referring to the educational reforms they'd enacted shortly after their marriage, "One day, the people will look back and praise their legendary Prince."

He looked into her eyes and she into his. He pulled her into a gentle kiss, relishing the warmth of her wine-flavored lips. His heart sang and he could feel her breath catch as he deepened the kiss. She returned it with gusto before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting them before it snapped.

She glanced around, her emerald eyes twinkling mischievously as she grabbed his belt and husked, "It seems we're alone, my Prince."

Lestko growled slightly as he pulled her to him and devoured her lips, hiking her dress up with his hand as his fingers dug into her delectably soft flesh. The stress of the day melting away in the lovers' embrace. The anxiety of attending the High Council meeting? Not even a memory at this point.

There was only their desire.

The warmth of the bed and the woman under the silken sheets was enticing. Lestko didn't want to leave it. He felt safe in her embrace. The softness of her skin. The rhythmic metronome of her adorably soft snoring. It was where he belonged.

But the pressure on his bladder wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. So, he pulled himself away and padded across the room into the enormous marble bathroom they shared – each step a frigid misery.

He was relieving himself when he felt the presence of his secret advisor nearby. He sighed. "I prefer to be left alone in times like this, Vauner. It's weird when you hover."

Sitting on the edge of the bath, pointedly looking away, was the shimmering form of Darth Vauner, former Wrath of Emperor Vitiate. The ancient sith pureblood ran his fingers through his midnight-black hair – force of habit, given his incorporeal form. "You were occupied earlier. I doubt you would have appreciated my interjection."

Lestko finished and listened as the toilet flushed itself clean. Then a horrifying thought occurred to him. "Hold on… were you watching us?"

Vauner scoffed, "I'm not a voyeur, boy. Even if I was, I could simply watch the couplings of others whom I do not respect. Incidentally, one of the courtiers in the west wing tried to take advantage of a palace maid. Should probably deal with that."

"Is she okay?"

Vauner smiled. "That question is what makes me like you, Lestko. So un-Sith. She's fine. Said courtier became 'unreasonably drowsy' while I was passing through. She is safe now, but I won't always be there."

"Then it will be dealt with. Can't have these fools acting like animals whenever they please."

"Good, good. Keep that resolve, boy, and it will serve you well." Vauner stroked the tendrils hanging from his chin. "Regrettably, it was Arlessa Escalus."

Lestko frowned. Escalus was a snooty dullard, but she was also politically aligned with them. The political calculations were nauseating. Let the… 'indiscretion' go unpunished and maintain his own power at court, or pursue justice and diminish his own standing. It wasn't something he had to consider for long. He wondered if his father had dealt with such things as well. If so, he had a feeling that realpolitik would determine the late Prince's actions.

"It matters not who it is, any who would take advantage of my people is an enemy. And a Beni'vel does not suffer an enemy."

Vauner did not respond but Lestko made out the ghost of a smile that graced the ancient sith's lips. Occasionally, the spirit would voice his approval but more often than not it was up to Lestko to divine his opinion. Little hints in the body language of one long-dead.

"We'll need to prepare you for the upcoming Council meeting," Vauner began, "It is important to ask questions so that you are seen as aware and thoughtful. Project a fool and they'll take advantage of you. But most of all, observe the other Orders and how they deal with this crisis, then determine how your people might take advantage."

Lestko nodded, though he felt a familiar twang of unease – he felt the same whenever he was forced to lean on his own knowledge. Vauner couldn't go anywhere near the High Council. Too many would be able to sense and perceive him. Some – like Lady Vathila – might even excise him entirely. That was less of an issue here because the emergency session allowed the use of QEC communicators, so Vauner could whisper in his thoughts without anyone the wiser. But the ancient spirit preferred not to puppet Lestko's words, something the young Prince was grateful for.

"I wonder which Orders will relocate," Lestko openly pondered, "I know we and Snoke are stuck in place, but maybe some of the others will do so."

Vauner nodded. "A smart question. The answers will give you an idea of their behavior once the Collective falls apart. Those that remain in place may be formidable foes, but those who slip away are more difficult to defeat for good."

Lestko nodded. "Like sleens hiding in the undergrowth."

They conversed for a time – teasing out possible topics to be covered during the meeting, and what information the Order of Nox required specifically. The most pressing issue was Nox's immobility and ineffectual nature. Should the Jedi come, there was no possibility – whatsoever – that Dromund Kaas and Dromund Fels could defend themselves. None at all.

Lestko cursed those at court. Their posturing and greed had left their Order weak. It was all the more galling for the fact that they'd been a member of the Sith Collective for centuries. Why was he the only one to both recognize the issue and do something about it? Had his predecessors truly been so toothless? It no longer mattered. He and Carolin and Vauner would continue to drag the feckless Families out of the mire of their complacency.

Nox would be a name to be respected, if not feared.

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Alexander Solo leaned back in the trobuck-skin chair behind his expensive desk. Life had been good to him since leaving the Jedi Order. Sure, it was difficult in the beginning, and he had no one to turn to – or so he thought at the time – but a chance meeting had put him on a new path, one he relished.

Discovering the Sith Collective had opened up a new world of possibility to him. He saw what they were – a collection of disparate Sith Orders of varying levels of evil and darkness – and he saw what they could become. But he had also seen one other promise: opportunity.

And for once, that opportunity was not an illusion – but it required one strong or savvy enough to take advantage. He could have found a place among the existing Orders, a few even had sparks of light within them.

But he did not settle. Not when he could make his own path – which was exactly what he'd done. He had founded his own Order within the Collective, the Order of Darth Caedus. He sometimes wondered what Jacen Solo would think of his namesake Order. Would he approve? Probably, now that he was shorn of corruptive influences like Lumiya – who had muddied the vision he'd had. Jacen had been a patriot and great Jedi of his time, he just followed the wrong people and committed to the wrong cause.

Not for the first time, he wondered what the galaxy might have looked like if he'd succeeded. Or perhaps it was better it had not, for he had lost sight by the end.

Alexander wanted to do better. Better than Jacen. Better than the Jedi. Better than the Alliance. His Sith were not true Sith, not by any definition save one: they pursued power. No, that was too simplistic – they did not simply pursue power, they intended to use it. Most Sith would use it to dominate, most Jedi would refuse to use it at all.

And so, he found himself somewhere in the middle.

Every member of the Order of Caedus was untainted by the corruption of the dark side. Even Daniel Skywalker himself had marveled at Alexander's commitment to the light side when they had reunited a year ago. A 'chance' meeting that set them both on the path of preventing galactic calamity.

In the few days they spent together, everything in Alexander's worldview had been turned upside-down. Lady Vathila was still a near-impossible foe, but now she was just one of many individuals of power and destiny in the galaxy. And after meeting Ludex in-person, she seemed that much the lesser. The Father's power saturated the very planet in a way most thought impossible.

Had his wife Keaxia not been with him… well, he would have coped and adjusted, but far less smoothly. She was a strong woman, and he was lucky to have her, and trust her. Trust was always in short supply amongst the Sith. But she stood beside him when he chose to gamble everything on trusting Daniel, on trusting the Jedi. And when they stood before the ancient Thought Bomb beneath the surface of Tython, everything changed.

Things had shifted during the trip – learning of the Force-wielders and the Elder One left an impression, certainly, but they did not change who they were fundamentally. When Ludex collapsed the Thought Bomb and freed the tortured wisps within, that's when things changed. He took the tattered shreds of thought and feeling that were once Force-wielders who had waged brutal war against one another in the Force Wars and amalgamated them into conscious beings. He created Force intelligences from scraps in a cave – the Force made sapient. And then he offered these intelligences to them.

Keaxia and Alexander Solo of the Sith.

Si-Wara-Yaden and Pon Tiian of the Jedi.

Viola Lorentzen and Aegoth Osoad of the Imperium.

Genevieve Eclipse and Zerrk of the Quabular.

These eight people, who just before that moment were simple Force-users – powerful in their own right, but nothing truly special – were transformed into beings of power. They each accepted a Force intelligence into themselves, like a roommate inside one's thoughts. This was the power Lady Vathila wielded so casually, and now they each possessed it themselves.

Perhaps that wasn't the correct way to view it. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he was the Dark Lady's equal or not. And he wasn't sure her power came from the same place. In the end, it didn't matter. Even if he were not strong enough alone, with Keaxia at his side, Lady Vathila wouldn't stand a chance. He was grateful for that. Planning the Dark Lady's demise had always been a vexing conundrum prior to their sojourn to Tython.

Alexander glanced once more at the datapad in his hand and the message upon it. An emergency session of the High Council of the Sith Collective, scheduled for tonight. To his knowledge, there had only ever been two other such sessions – each before his time.

He smiled at the section in the message that advised the Orders to relocate their operations if possible. It would cause significant headaches for his rivals. Had he not allied with the Jedi already, he would have shared in the pain. The Order of Darth Caedus was relatively unmoored, so relocating would not be difficult, but it would be necessary to stave off undue suspicion. He would need to confer with Daniel to ensure his people weren't targeted by mistake in the future.

Speaking of which.

Alexander turned in his chair as the door to his office opened and Daq Minhone walked in. A cursory glance of the Headmaster's armor showed wear and tear that had not been there a month ago – a souvenir from the Jedi attack.

"Master Solo," Daq greeted.

Alexander inclined his head. "Headmaster Minhone. Welcome back."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's not the triumphant return we hoped for. All that time and effort to seize control of the Academy and then the Jedi come in and ruin everything… again."

"The will of the Force can be fickle sometimes, Daq. It's up to us to pick up the pieces and adapt. Though I share your frustration. We could have molded those children into something better."

Alexander furrowed his brow. He understood why the Jedi did what they did, but it nullified his Order's long-term plans. Those younglings would have been affected by the Order of Caedus, and they in turn would affect their own Orders. A poison pill that could splinter them once the Sith Collective disintegrated. Oh well. It's not like he had shared his plans with Daniel.

"Who else made it out?"

Daq's shoulders fell. "A teacher's aide and two janitorial workers. Everyone else was killed or taken captive."

"And the students?"

"Shipped Coreward for evaluation." Daq grew uncomfortable. "I fear many may be sent to Tython. A grim fate if true."

"Not all Conciliators are evil, Daq. Though not enough are good." Alexander sighed, drumming his fingers on his desk. "Once a new academy is founded, we'll start again. In fact, if we seize the initiative, we can exercise even greater control over the curriculum."

"We would need a new location to teach the younglings. The next batch won't be ready for another year at least, so we have until then."

"I'll inquire about Lady Vathila's intentions during the Council meeting."

"I would appreciate that, Master Solo," Daq said, "I do not wish our efforts to be for nothing."

Alexander nodded, remembering the favor-trading and brinkmanship it took to secure Daq's position as the Headmaster. The other Orders weren't enthused about having a 'Jedi' run an academy for Sith younglings – Daq had to slay more than one challenger before they accepted him.

"It is only for nothing if we concede," Alexander said with a smile.

The men spoke a bit more of the attack, then of upcoming changes to the Order of Caedus itself. Alexander was grateful to have someone of Daq's ability at his command. A true leader required competent subordinates.

At the conclusion of their talks, Daq bowed respectfully and excused himself. Alexander watched him leave and reclined in his chair, alone with his thoughts.

You are angry.

Perhaps 'alone' was inaccurate.

Not 'angry,' just disappointed. Not all investments pay dividends, Justice, but this was… something I had high hopes for.

Justice was silent, as was often the case. The Force intelligence rarely had an opinion on things outside of its specialties – namely, the Force. In fact, the longest conversation they'd had was picking a name for it, eventually it settled on 'Justice,' the strongest aspect of Alexander's subconscious. Given the nature of the entity's conception – amalgamated from the broken wisps of long-dead Force-wielders – perhaps this naming process was standard. In fact, Keaxia's own Force intelligence had taken the moniker 'Compassion.' Thinking of his wife and her deepest desires, compassion fit her perfectly.

When they had returned from Tython with their Force companions in tow, everyone had taken note. They were powerful in ways that greater Masters only dreamed of. Only Vathila herself could truly rival them at this point, but it was important to remember the limitations of the partnership. Ultimately, unlike Vathila, the power belonged to Justice, not Alexander. They worked together, two minds in sync, but it was still a partnership. For example, his senses were still mostly baseline. An assassination attempt two months ago nearly succeeded before Justice took control for a moment and rent the poor sod to viscera.

He was almost jealous of his wife's connection to Compassion, the two meshing together like childhood friends. The added power made her healing abilities downright miraculous, while her attacks became disconcertingly viscous – turning people to stone or reopening wounds long-healed. She was both benevolent and ruthless, and he loved her for it.

He typed out a message to her and sent it before setting down the datapad. They would need to prepare for the Council meeting. They only had a few hours to do so.

Alexander sat at a table set aside from the rest of his dwelling and glanced around at the holograms of the other Councilors – most appeared alone, but three were joined by their partners. It had become commonplace for those particular Orders. He looked at each Councilor and gauged their disposition. They were, unsurprisingly, calm and dignified – this was no place to show weakness.

He looked at his colleagues to the right.

Lord Zarya of Kaan, a woman pursuing a third way – somewhere between Sith and Jedi. She was interesting in the way she stood out amongst the Council. He'd given serious thought to courting an alliance with her Order – despite Kaan's inherent paranoia and suspicion.

Darth Timoris of Jadus, still terrifying to behold even years later.

Darth Nihl V of Krayt, the latest in a dynastic cult, holding sway over his legion of tattooed cultists. He often wondered what it was that drew new initiates to Krayt, chalking it up to personal desperation. Or delusion. No doubt there were a few who believed they could rise to become the One Sith. All of whom would fail.

Supreme Leader Nathis Ren and his wife Allegiant General Talali Pryde of Snoke, a power couple on par with the Imperial Sovereigns.

Darth Altis of Palpatine, a shrewd political operator knee-deep in the diplomatic morass of the Alliance Senate.

Darth Sana of Plagueis, equal parts brilliant and unethical, she wouldn't be out of place in either a university laboratory or a military black site.

Torfan Vana of Ragnos, little more than a shell for an ephemeral patron.

He continued from this midpoint to his colleagues on the left.

Darth Monika of Nihilus, nothing more than a parasite in the Force; were this meeting in-person, he'd be able to sense the unnatural void surrounding where she sat.

Lord Interitus of Vitiate, a regal cathar man of inscrutable destiny. He had always been an enigma, much like his Order. Alexander wondered if – with help from Justice – he might tease out Interitus's secrets next time they met in-person.

Prince Lestko Beni'vel and his wife Princess Carolin Shan-Beni'vel of Nox, both young and naïve, yet still able to compete amongst the other Sith without compromising themselves. Most chalked it up to an unseen patron guiding their actions – though who that might be, no one knew, nor particularly cared to.

Lady Sara-Il of Traya, a voss-proper woman who stood out like no other on the High Council. Why would one of the voss join the Sith? No one knew.

Darth Oridian of Revan, a behemoth of a creature. Without Justice at his beck and call, Alexander doubted he could defeat the gen'dai should they come to blows.

And finally, sitting next to him and Keaxia, Lady Vathila of Vathila. His demonic mother-in-law – a moniker he and his wife found endlessly amusing, though he made sure to suppress the thought lest the Dark Lady be insulted. They were separated by light-years, but one could never be too careful around the Mistress of the Sith.

Lady Vathila's gaze followed a similar path in reverse, as she too eyed each of the gathered Councilors. Her gaze came to a stop on Keaxia, her eyes narrowing a fraction. Alexander was proud that his wife did not wilt under the Dark Lady's gaze. She had grown more and more confident in herself since marrying him, even more so since their trip to Tython. Now, when she saw her mother's disapproving eyes, she took them in with pride.

Tapping the table, Lady Vathila brought them to order. "You have all heard of the attack, and understand the threat this poses. This meeting is not to rehash what has already happened – it is to discuss our response."

Alexander suspected that particular qualifier had less to do with Vathila wanting to run a focused meeting with little wasted time, than avoiding addressing the fact that the Jedi had not only attacked a critical facility, but had succeeded, and forced an immediate retreat across the Orders, lest they be discovered.

It was not the auspicious first clash any of them desired.

"The Jedi attack on Cholganna is understandable and regrettable," Darth Timoris said.

Alexander tried not to cringe at the inhumanely frigid voice that escaped the featureless helmet. Even over QEC the Lord of the Mind set his teeth on edge.

She continued, "But I will not ignore the clear security concern this raises. This attack was caused because of a traitor – one you are familiar with."

Vathila did her best to hide her displeasure with that line of questioning, but her face momentarily betrayed her discomfort. "I have provided you with the relevant dossier."

Timoris's helmet bored sightlessly into the Dark Lady's eyes, and her voice betrayed no concern, "I've read the dossier, but it is insufficient – as you well know. So tell this Council, who is this man beyond his record? We are owed such an explanation, considering the damage he has already caused."

Vathila's face twisted into a sneer as she tapped into her datapad, the central holoprojector spinning up to reveal an arrogant young man standing proudly. "His name is Lucius, though he goes by 'Taral.' He's formerly of my Order, so I'm sure you all understand my own feelings on this matter – the fact that he yet lives and breathes fills me with revulsion."

"Why did he betray you?" Lord Interitus asked, looking over the image with care.

Vathila pursed her lips. "His Master poisoned his mind with Banite teachings, and eventually he fled."

"The dossier notes a difficulty in using the Force when he first came to you," Timoris said, "Something he shares with your daughter Mischa, it seems."

Lady Vathila was quiet for just a second too long before she answered, "True. Though he has changed since that time. He is competent enough with the blade and the Force."

Alexander and Keaxia shared a glance but did not comment. The others would have seen it as well, but they too stayed silent.

"Yes, Master Kishhodt did well with that one," Timoris continued, "I understand that he eluded you for a time, but you had captured him previously. Within the last year, in fact. Why was he not killed?"

Alexander and others perked up. That detail wasn't in the dossier – and for clear reason. Vathila would not have wanted that known, and the fact that Timoris was bringing it up was… interesting. She had the benefit of her Order's spycraft no doubt, but this was clearly intended to undermine Vathila before the whole Council.

Alexander would have never considered doing something like that, even now. Too much risk – but admittedly, Timoris was one of the few who would be brave enough to do so.

Lady Vathila's eyes narrowed. "At first, because he had to suffer for his treason. Once he had, I determined that implanting him with an inhibitor chip would benefit our research and allow him to continue to serve us."

Darth Altis suddenly smiled. "Serve us, Lady Vathila?"

Vathila turned her gaze on him. "Each of the efforts of our Orders serves the greater Collective. I should not have to explain this to you, Lord Altis."

"Of course, Lady Vathila," Altis answered, undeterred, "I was merely clarifying."

"If that is the case, then why was he not kept at Delta-8?" Interitus suddenly inquired, one hand stroking his furry chin, "Clearly the implant failed if he is now working with the Jedi."

"Field testing. Lucius is powerful, if undisciplined. It's vital we test these implants outside of a laboratory; sterile environs produce sterile results."

"Could that not have been done with another subject who knew nothing of our operations?" Interitus asked.

"What are you getting at?"

Interitus's fur rippled as he pointed to the holo. "That crimson bracelet on his wrist looks similar to the golden ones you give to your 'Chosen.' I wonder if you're growing soft, allowing this threat to live."

"I made use of a disposable asset."

"Disposable?" Timoris inquired, her voice laced with ice, "We are aware of how the disposable are treated. Should any of your truly disposable assets escape in such a manner, they would be terminated. You did not hesitate to lock Kishhodt in the Screaming Hall for her heresy. Yet a much less valuable disposable asset remained alive." Her voice turned pointed, "Why?"

"There is no mystery here," Interitus scoffed, "You toyed with a former lover when you had no need, Vathila. And now you come to us and declare that we must all work together to deal with a threat you created. No. There is only one to blame for this failing, and I did not come here to listen to you shirk your responsibility to this Collective for your pride."

"I agree," Oridian rumbled, "You would expect accountability from our Orders if we were responsible – we are due this same courtesy."

Alexander and the others watched with interest. Was Interitus – and Timoris – challenging the Mistress for supremacy? The veiled threats. The jockeying for position. The undermining before his eyes. He had always suspected that this could not last – in fact, all of them knew it. Yet all had resolved to set their differences aside until the Jedi were defeated. Now though…

Could the Collective be on the verge of fracture?

"Lucius was not my 'lover,' Interitus," Vathila all but hissed, "and I would ask that you not cast aspersions so recklessly."

"He isn't? My apologies then. I merely assumed given the similarities between him and your daughter that there was a connection – one you seem uncomfortable discussing," Internitus's voice was similarly sharp, though cloaked in the tone of a politician.

"Indeed, and when one is uncomfortable with discussion, many times it is because of embarrassment – or they have something to hide," Altis's voice remained easy, but his tone was of a man going in for the kill, "Darth Timoris raised a critical question – one we are owed an answer to. Why was the man spared your wrath?"

"I have provided all the relevant information you require," Vathila snapped back, "You're stirring the mynock's nest, Lord Altis."

"Am I? It is hardly a difficult question." Altis flicked a wrist. "None of us care if you dally with lovers, and there is little you could say that would make me so much as raise an eyebrow, considering my familiarity with the Senate. Acknowledge it, and we can all move on. It is a strange thing to become hung up on, for we are all adults here, are we not? Surely this is not a subject of scandal?"

"Unless, of course," Internitus added, "there is another reason."

Vathila did not react beyond narrowing her eyes – though Alexander noticed the slight tightening of her jawline.

"Enough."

All of them – even Vathila – turned at the voice of one who so rarely spoke in assemblies like this. It was a naturally deep and melodiously accented voice, one with a slight – if pronounced – reverb to it.

The crimson eyes of Torfan Vana were fierce and ancient despite his seeming youth – as it was for every Avatar of Marka Ragnos. "Should this bickering continue, we will fail without the Jedi striking a single blow. This is not a time to jockey for power or seize perceived opportunities." The ancient King pointedly looked at Timoris and Internitus – and then at Vathila. "Nor is it a time to shirk responsibility to save face.

"If our first action when the Jedi strike is to immediately prepare to plunge the knives into each other, then we have learned nothing from generations of Sith past." He paused. "Important questions have been raised, but do not let this devolve into a veiled power struggle. Put this topic to rest. Move to what will be done about it. These are matters to settle when a plan is in place."

"Well said," Darth Zarya spoke after a long moment, "I would also prefer we discuss action rather than become bogged down over an insignificant traitor. He will be dealt with in due time, I'm certain."

"In the interest of this Collective, I will let the matter rest," Timoris said, "For now."

"A fair point is made, Avatar Vana," Interitus added almost offhandedly, "What's done is done. Best we move on."

"Good." Vathila straightened. "Then we should turn to the matter of the attack itself."

"Very well," Timoris agreed, "Did anyone escape Cholganna?"

Considering he knew the most about this site – and the attack – Alexander spoke up, "The Headmaster, a teacher's aide, and a pair of janitorial workers. I'm not aware of anyone else."

"And the children?" she continued.

Lady Vathila answered, "They were taken by the Jedi."

"Was your daughter amongst them?" Interitus asked, his fur rippling in amusement.

He's quite bold when they're not in the same room together, Alexander noted.

Vathila turned her frigid gaze upon the cathar. "Several daughters were. Along with several sons. And dozens of other younglings I have no connection to."

Alexander interrupted, focusing the conversation, "Regardless of who was taken, we will need to reopen the Academy elsewhere for future students. Caedus has been scouting Wild Space for some time. There's a world we found that would be ideal – far away from the nearest hyperlane or inhabited system. We can have everything built within two months if we start now."

Vathila nodded. "We'll need new staff."

"Headmaster Minhone survived the attack, and he still maintains records on potential teachers."

"Should he even remain Headmaster after his failures?" Oridian asked, "The Headmaster should be the best of the best, not someone who flees at the first sign of danger."

Alexander bristled, but it was Keaxia who responded, "What would you prefer? That everyone was dead? That we start over from nothing? Headmaster Minhone has proven himself ten times over, that's why he was appointed Headmaster in the first place. The sad truth is that there was nothing to be done. Nothing short of a full counterattack by one of our Orders would have been enough to repel a dedicated attack like that. The sad truth is that we were unprepared. We thought secrecy would be enough. We thought ourselves safe and protected – don't forget that Cholganna was a notoriously boring assignment for anyone providing security." She glanced around the table slowly. "We grew complacent."

Torfan Vana nodded and spoke, "I believe you are correct in this, Lady Keaxia. I'll ensure the security detail for the next Academy is more experienced. I see now that it was a mistake to treat Cholganna as a safe location – fit for the young and unseasoned."

"We'll need to protect the knowledge of this Academy," Vathila said, "Restrict it to the point of absurdity. Let only we on the Council know its true location."

"Seconded," Alexander said, "Though I would include the Headmaster in that list as well. He'll need to handle the logistics and that will be impossible if he needs to run everything through one of us."

"Very well. Tell Minhone that he will retain his title and position, and that we expect a list of potential teachers within the next month."

"As you wish, Lady Vathila," Alexander said with a nod, careful to hide his jubilation. This attack may well have been a boon to his plans.

"With that resolved" – Interitus gestured to the hologram – "let's return to our discussion of the boy and the risk he poses. I believe he pointed them toward Cholganna on purpose. The question is where he will direct them next."

"You know less of the Jedi than you think if you believe they would allow a defector to dictate where and when they attack, Interitus." Zarya snorted. "I am surprised the boy is allowed to roam free and hasn't been mind-ripped by the Sages."

"Cooperating willingly, I suspect," Timoris noted, "Otherwise, you are correct. Nevertheless, his leash is doubtless shorter than he believes."

"Both excellent points, and the Jedi could have targeted the Academy for any number of reasons," Nathis chimed, "Tactically, it denies us future recruits – and potentially swells their own numbers if they place them in assimilation programs."

"No doubt factors, but considering the knowledge he possesses, it's equally possible that this Lucius targeted Cholganna specifically," Interitus opined, "Perhaps looking to claim one of the children there as an Apprentice."

Vathila seemed genuinely perplexed at the comment. "Under what circumstance would the Jedi ever permit such a thing? Lucius is a fool, but even he is not so foolish as to attempt something that audacious – especially as we know he has Jedi handlers."

Interitus smiled. "He defied you, did he not? This Lucius strikes me as one who pursues his ambitions – no matter the risks or challenges. He would make Bane proud."

The Mistress ignored the comments and continued, "Returning to the subsequent risks this attack exposed – Cholganna was not the only operation Lucius was aware of, to say nothing of him knowing certain locations. So long as he lives, we are in danger."

"Can we be sure he hasn't already told the Jedi everything he knows?" Nathis asked, "Killing him at this point might be wasted effort."

Vathila pursed her lips. "Our agents in the Jedi Order have confirmed that he is not sharing everything just yet – a point of frustration for some of the Masters. He is unlikely to share his knowledge when he perceives it as leverage."

Zarya frowned. "That doesn't make sense. He has no leverage – not if the Jedi really wish to get it."

"No, no, it makes perfect sense," Altis disputed, "Lucius is not quite the fool implied. He is willingly working with them, and the Jedi do not simply drag all of their assets to be interrogated – they see themselves as above that, even for Sith." He raised a finger. "Make no mistake, if Lucius becomes uncooperative, that will change – especially with Skywalker gone. However, so long as he drip-feeds actionable information, they will be content to give him the illusion of freedom."

"And the fact that he allowed the Jedi an early victory lessens the possibility of a violent extraction," Nathis noted, "and puts a concerning amount of control over where the Jedi could strike next in his hands."

"Which could work to our advantage," Timoris said, "You know him, Vathila. What are his goals, and more importantly, what is he likely to do next?"

Vathila leaned back in her chair and pondered for a time. "Two things come to mind, beyond him attacking us with the Jedi. The first is… well, it's so ridiculous I hesitate to mention it. He might seek to free Kishhodt."

The helm of Timoris cocked slightly to the side. "To what end? Sympathy? Loyalty?"

"He is a Banite and she was his Master. If he truly believes in the Rule of Two, he won't be satisfied until he kills her himself."

Timoris considered that for a moment. "Is Kishhodt even alive? The Screaming Hall was destroyed when you fled Dosuun, no?"

Vathila shook her head. "I took pains to evacuate everything of value – including those whose punishment is not yet complete. Regrettably, they're in simple stasis at the moment for transit. They won't be screaming until I choose a new base of operations."

Alexander suppressed a cringe at her cavalier attitude toward torture. In a way, he appreciated how forthright she was with it. A far cry from those in the Galactic Alliance who maintain a sheen of respectability and would never openly advocate or commit atrocity.

"And to get to her, he would need to fight your entire Order. So I think it's safe to ignore that prospect. What's the other possibility?"

Vathila forward and steepled her fingers. "Tlon Fett."

The name brought a round of murmurs from some of the Council.

"Lucius's family was killed in one of Fett's raids. He's obsessed with avenging them and killing the Warlord," she explained.

Oridian's mass vibrated with a deep chuckle. "That boy has impressive enemies."

"And the boldness to act against them," Interitus added.

"Is he aware of our agreement with Fett?" asked Darth Sana.

"That was something I actively kept from him," Vathila explained, "It would've complicated things had he known."

"If he attacks Fett directly, this whole mess should resolve itself. Tlon Fett is formidable, even for a Sith Lord – Lucius won't stand a chance," said Sana.

There were nods of agreement around the table, with one notable exception.

"You are quiet, Lady Vathila," Zarya noted, "Are you concerned that this boy could actually defeat Tlon Fett?"

She licked her lips and leaned forward. "Not at all. He has talent, I will not deny that, but the idea of him besting the Warlord is laughable."

"As an individual? Undoubtedly. But he is not an individual in this. Battlemaster Shartan has been railing against Fett for years, with only the Jedi and Alliance officials staying his stolen blade," Nathis said, "A focused attack from the Militant Order will crush Fett to powder."

"And Zygerria was a sign," Zarya said, "Shartan is not going to let convention and authority stop him forever. Especially as war against Fett – and the raiders he commands – is already popular among the Militant Order and Alliance military. The Senate is a flimsiplast rancor – all Shartan would need to do is push."

"Indeed, and his notable… closeness with President Oslam should not be ignored," Altis added thoughtfully, "The more she remains politically isolated, the more she will rely on him – and they are aligned on more than many realize."

"Be that as it may, Lucius has no information on Fett's whereabouts or activities," Vathila dismissed, "He has nothing to offer beyond bloodlust. Perhaps that's enough for a zealot like Shartan."

"You underestimate Shartan at your own peril," Zarya noted in a neutral voice, "The man could mobilize half of the Alliance military if he so wished, and enjoys the near-total support of the Militant Order – and many outside them. Dismissing him as a bloodthirsty fool will backfire."

"Indeed," Oridian added, "Though Lady Vathila's point is similarly valid. With no leads or incentive, Shartan has few options, and he has other matters to focus on of late – particularly Skywalker's departure, and now us. Fett is irrelevant to him right now."

"Regardless, I'll have additional forces moved to Delta-8 just in case," Sana suggested, "With the Jedi breathing down our necks, that station is even more important than ever."

"Which brings us back to our response to Cholganna," Timoris began, "I've made preparations to relocate the Academy on Sadow. Jadus will err on the side of caution."

"As will Caedus," Alexander said, "Thankfully, our operations are fluid enough that this is only a minor inconvenience."

Several other Councilors nodded in agreement, which told him that most of the Orders were relocating their operations as well. He was aware that Lady Vathila herself had to move her base – a consequence of Lucius coming from her Order.

"What about Orders that cannot relocate?" Prince Beni'vel asked, "Nox has billions of members – same for Snoke. It could leave us vulnerable."

"Your squabbling Families may be insufficiently prepared, but the Order of Snoke is more than capable of defending itself should the Jedi come," Pryde's voice held the barest hint of scorn, "We have prepared for this day for generations. If now is the time for our return, we shall meet all our enemies in battle."

Beni'vel frowned. "With respect, Lady Pryde, no one is questioning the capability of your soldiers. The question is whether or not they are capable of winning. At the end of the day, that's all that matters, and my understanding is that our preparations were still ongoing. If the Jedi make war, that brings in the Alliance. And if they expose the First Order's continued existence, it will undoubtedly draw in the Imperium. I am not a military expert, but I doubt even the whole of the Collective could withstand a united galaxy."

"False bravado serves the enemy right now," Oridian said, "We are unprepared, and so long as the Jedi stand, we remain disadvantaged in a galactic conflict should we remain on our own."

Alexander arched his brow. Beni'vel's words had merit, but it was interesting to see such assertiveness from the boy – generally he was quiet in these meetings, timid even. Oridian acknowledging him positively was also an unexpected development. It made him hopeful. The alliance between their Orders would mean nothing if the Prince were a weak leader.

"True," Vathila began, tapping the table with a holographic talon, "Which is why this meeting is necessary. Our survival, and our victory, require secrecy and planning. To be exposed in this way could jeopardize everything, though I do not fear for Nox and Snoke. Our agents in the Jedi and Alliance have heard nothing that exposes either the Dromund System or Snoke Space. The locations are secret, and that secrecy is your greatest defense. Because at the end of the day, relocating so many people and resources would be impossible."

"To say nothing of the risk involved in the attempt," Alexander added, "Mass migration of so many would be noticed. Better to remain hidden, and fortify their current holdings."

"Our worlds are fortresses as-is," Nathis declared, "We've been building up since my ascension."

Alexander nodded. "A prudent decision."

Beni'vel frowned. "Dromund Kaas is not as secret as you might paint it, milady. He may not have said anything to the Jedi, but I remember him being in your entourage during one of your visits. He knows where we are."

"A regrettable truth," Vathila admitted, "Nox will need to fortify its position then."

"We're in the process of doing so, but I fear it will not be enough. Our resources will be stretched thin, and I fear we will not withstand an assault by the Jedi." Beni'vel pursed his lips. "We need money and weapons."

Alexander watched the exchange with interest. He knew he himself would aid in Nox's armament – they were allies after all – but would any others? Would Lady Vathila step up in an attempt to reassert herself?

Nathis spoke first, "Our forces are in the process of upgrading their equipment. Our previous gear is outmoded, but still quite advanced – roughly on par with the Imperium. We are willing to sell them to the Order of Nox at cost."

Alexander nodded. This was good for Dromund Kaas, and he could understand Snoke's long-term goals in the gesture. The Kaas System was relatively close to Snoke Space – if thousands of light-years can be considered 'close' – and there was a risk that Dromund Kaas could become a staging area for the Alliance to launch attacks against the First Order. Realpolitik at its finest.

"Generous, and much appreciated," Beni'vel said, "but we would not be able to afford it at this time without significant financial aid."

"Consider it done, Prince Beni'vel," Lady Vathila said, "My Order will underwrite the loan through the Order of Palpatine."

Altis nodded. "It shouldn't be an issue, we have significant funds available through various shell companies, but I would caution against thinking of them as unlimited. There may come a time when that money is desperately needed – perhaps to stave off war with the Alliance."

"I understand the situation, Lord Altis," the Mistress said, "The Senate will still get its bribes. If we have to pull out of certain investments or operations, we will do so. Ensuring that each Order can withstand the coming war is paramount."

Alexander watched and wondered at the spectacle. It wasn't unheard of for the Orders to work together like this, that was one of the main pillars of the Collective after all, but the way it was unfolding was interesting. Was the Prince naïvely begging for assistance, or shrewdly maneuvering them to his advantage? Either way, it worked. He would need to be watched carefully.

The talks continued for a time as they hashed out the details on how to prop up Nox. Once that was settled, the conversation shifted to their actual response to Lucius himself. For the most part, Vathila would deal with that particular headache – not necessarily because they agreed it was the best route, but because this was clearly personal for her, and she wouldn't tolerate anyone getting in the way.

"Bounties have been commissioned for him and his allies," Vathila said, "More importantly, we have offered monetary rewards for information on his whereabouts." – she turned her gaze to the 'Living Wound' – "Monika, I want the Order of Nihilus focused on killing him and those around him. Any information we receive will be forwarded to you. I want your Assassins to dispose of him at the first opportunity."

Darth Monika bowed her head. "As you wish, Dark Lady. I will prepare the Order's weapons for the task. Is there more to him than his dossier? To kill Master Chikchik is no small feat. I do not wish to waste my instruments on an impossible task."

Vathila was dismissive, "He needed the help of two Jedi Masters to finish her. The boy is a fool and the true danger is his knowledge of our operations. Exercise caution, but do what you must."

Monika bowed her head and made a note on her own datapad. "It will be done."

The rest of the meeting was more mundane – updates on operations and whatnot. But there was an air of unease amongst them all. Cholganna revealed just how vulnerable they all were. How reliant they were on being hidden. If they were exposed too early, the Sith Collective would be torn apart.

And the earlier tension had revealed something very important – the fissures in the Collective were very real, and while Torfan Vana had managed to refocus them, all it had done was force them under the surface.

It would not be long before they resurfaced. The nature of the Sith could only be denied for so long.

Alexander suppressed a smile at the thought.

---

Darth Timoris had left the Council meeting with mixed feelings.

It was amusing – and unusual – to see Vathila backed into a corner, but it was also irritating to think that their 'leader' had risked the entire Collective on a boy of no real consequence. Or perhaps that was what she wanted others to think. In most cases, Timoris would consider it an intentional deception – projected weakness to deflect and obfuscate. But with Vathila…

Vathila always eschewed such methods in the past. Despite the woman's protestations, Timoris knew she was emotionally invested in the boy to the point of absurdity. It wasn't anything as trite as 'love,' but she clearly wasn't thinking straight. She was acting like the hotheaded Sith brutes of yore and it was pathetic to behold.

Why?

There was something underneath this behavior, something not so plainly obvious. Yet the reaction Vathila had displayed meant that her feelings and focus were very real. Only two things could drive one so normally composed to this sputtering and childish state.

One was passion.

The other was fear.

And she had seen enough to know that Vathila, no matter her ultimate reasons, was acting out of fear.

Something that was, perhaps, more interesting than anything else.

She picked up her datapad to review the latest reports from her Hand, Lehon Sethun, regarding the evacuation. The sarkhai man assured her they were making good progress and could fully relocate within the week. She'd already had a new planet picked out long before this move became necessary.

It would be the next 'Sadow.' Some might think it unimaginative, but there was a usefulness in reusing the name – Jedi who investigate or hear rumors might confuse the planets, good leads would be ignored and she would be safe.

As for this place… well, she knew she had to leave, and she knew there should be nothing left for the Jedi to scavenge. Not that there was much here to begin with. There was little that was material that she valued. Pretend manifestations of things that were ascribed value by the blind, as if it gave them status or their lives worth.

Illusions and lies. Disgusting mockeries of the luminescence beyond.

It had taken her so long to come to the realization Emperor Jadus had. The true understanding of what the dark side was, and what it desired. It was not the power, the corruption, or the ambition that reflected the darkness.

It was the realization that life itself was an enemy; a flawed thing that should never have come about. Only through the Force could one see what it had the potential to be. And so too came the understanding that the only solution was to destroy it.

But that would not come about for a very long time. So she endured. She existed in this reality of filth.

And she kept the hatred burning.

On reflection, she wasn't interested in simply destroying the Academy when she left. Instead, she would arm the self-destruct and put it on a proximity trigger. If they found this place and penetrated deep enough, they would trigger the nuclear bomb and be vaporized. Hopefully, by that point, there would be enough Jedi within to make it worthwhile.

Or not. She would be content if this place was reduced to dust regardless.

She heard a chime on her datapad and knew a call was incoming. She checked it and saw a symbol – one of the glyphs embroidered into her robes.

The call was on her private QEC.

The really private one that no one knew existed and no one could intercept.

She tsked under her breath as she returned to her chambers and approached the trophy case on the far wall. Behind the transparisteel was a collection of baubles that once belonged to Emperor Jadus – his lightsaber, his robes, his holocron. The only item of note that was missing was his helmet, for obvious reasons.

Replicas, all the originals that he had worn had long since rotted or fallen to dust. The only thing of worth was his holocron which was stored somewhere else. This collection served another, more practical purpose

A wave of her hand triggered the hidden latch beneath the robes. The case rumbled to life as it slid to the side. Another wave triggered another latch inside the wall itself, which also rumbled to life – receding slightly before sliding to the side to reveal a doorway. She approached and, with yet another wave of her hand, triggered the biometric scanners.

She entered as the solid slab of six-centimeter-thick beskar slid to the side before closing behind her along with the fake wall and the trophy case. She looked around the spartan room, nothing more than a holoprojector and the QEC itself – not even a chair for her to sit in. She approached and typed in a code before sending the communications request.

A moment later, the QEC's holoprojector spun up and revealed the shimmering figure of a young woman in a fetching ball gown dress. Her auburn hair was done up in a stylized chignon with a few wisps of hair to frame the face – accenting the splash of unnaturally symmetrical freckles on each cheek. The high-quality projection captured the expensive makeup she'd meticulously applied.

She was a rare individual who was not a complete offense to the material sight. In the Force, she was similarly tolerable.

The woman smiled and inclined her head. "Hello, Re—"

Timoris held up a hand. "Call me anything but 'Timoris' and this call will end."

The woman pouted slightly. "Very well, Timoris. Darth Timoris. Darth Timoris the Lord of the Mind. Frozen she-devil of—"

"Enough, Senator."

Were anyone else present, they would have felt the air grow colder.

Senator Alyssa Sorolass of Corellia frowned. "You're no fun. And don't call me 'Senator,' I get my fill of formality in committee. And take off that ridiculous mask, would you? I'm not some neophyte you can frighten."

Timoris narrowed her eyes behind her helmet before reaching up and unlatching the connectors. There was a hiss as the air seal was broken and the symbol of Emperor Jadus was lifted away and held at her side. Her skin was ashen-white but smooth as silk. Her brunette hair was styled in a triple bun, though it was slightly flattened from her helmet. Her eyes were a searing amber tinged with the slightest orange around the edge of the iris. She was beautiful if cold – something about the symmetry of her face seemed unnaturally perfect.

"Better," Alyssa said, cocking her head, "Surprised you're not wearing your blindfold underneath."

"Not enough space for it. Too cumbersome," Timoris answered, frowning, "It would be preferable. Existence is disorderly, chaotic, and aggravating. The Force can at least provide the comfort of possible perfection."

"A pity I can't try it myself," Alyssa mused, "The Elder One's gifts only go so far."

Timoris was silent for a moment.

"You do not want to see the universe as I do," she finally said, "There is no going back when you see this for what it is. Worse when you know how little it can be changed. It is emptying an ocean with a single spoon. No, it is… preferable, you remain blind."

"If I didn't know better, Timoris, I'd say you were giving advice." She smiled widely. "I knew you liked me."

Timoris rolled her eyes. "Cute."

"I try to be. People appreciate someone demure and vulnerable – even in cutthroat politics it is an asset at times. But enough small talk, your message said there was a Council meeting. Anything new?"

Timoris nodded, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "Vathila's position has been weakened by the recent attack on Cholganna. She let a traitor named 'Lucius' run off to the Jedi and now every Sith Order is threatened because of it. I rather enjoyed that meeting, it's rare to see the woman squirm."

"It's rare for her to make such mistakes," Alyssa pondered, tapping a finger to her chin, "Who took advantage of her weakness?"

"Interitus for the most part, though Altis was circling like a nackhawn. They were the active ones, but they were all questioning her actions."

"And yourself?" Alyssa asked, smiling as she pulled out her electronic cigarette, "Looking to overthrow the queen?"

"Put that thing away," Timoris said, narrowing her eyes. "The sight of it is aggravating."

"Deal with it." Alyssa took an intentionally long drag. "But do go on."

Timoris shook her head, letting the room grow still colder. "I guided both along the path to challenge, but it is preferable that they take the lead. I have no intention of pulling the first blade – only pushing the first to use it."

"Shame you never leave Sadow. You'd get along marvelously with Calsyne."

A very rare smile graced Timoris's lips. "I suspect I would. There are few I can say that about, and I believe she would not disappoint. Knowing what I do of the woman, I have a fair amount of professional respect for her."

"Shocker," Alyssa deadpanned, "In all seriousness, it's been interesting to watch her actions after Oslam was elected – to see how easily she neutralized the President. It's disturbing to think of the Star Cabal watching us when we least expect it. They remind me of the Elder One."

Timoris shrugged. "Their views on the Force are problematic. They are purer than much of that which they influence, but they will not survive the Elder One's return. Not when they consider themselves above the fundamentals of reality."

"Maybe, but I'm not as convinced." Alyssa waved a hand vaguely. "You act like the Elder One's return will herald fire and brimstone. You know that isn't how It operates. It uses intermediaries and their intermediaries. Once it was the Five Eternal, then when they grew beyond their station, it was the rakata, and when the rakata grabbed the idiot ball, it simply turned them against each other" – she made an approximation of an 'explosion' sound – "and left their slaves to pick up the pieces.

"You want my opinion? The Star Cabal will have its part to play, just as the Ascendancy will. And you and me, of course. The Star Cabal is far too useful to just blow up – and even better, it has no reason to be an enemy. We're all aligned after all – at least in wanting to bring some order to this terribly chaotic galaxy."

"Replace one shadowy clique with another?"

"If they need to be replaced at all, but yes. Else this endless cycle of purges will become a permanent affair. The corruption of the Senate and other bodies threatens galactic stability, and that's the environment our benefactor thrives in." Alyssa paused. "Though I do have a modicum of hope for these people. President Oslam moved to shield Onderon from the Senate. It's a bold move to nationalize the assets of a member world like that, but I suspect she will succeed in her attempt to prevent war… at least for now."

"A positive development – if she intends to put her house in order," Timoris said, "Is war truly on the horizon?"

"You're asking me? You with your legion of spies across the galaxy?" She took another drag of the e-cigarette – probably just to ignore her. "You know I hate rhetorical questions."

"I do not trust Altis's assessment of the Senate, nor do I consider much of what I do learn useful. You are more knowledgeable, so I ask you."

"Excellent save, Timoris," Alyssa chuckled, "Fine. Given the timespans we work with? War is always on the horizon." She smiled good-naturedly. "There are some pushing for war with the Mandalorians, though agreement on that end is very mixed. Some of the loudest voices are actually among the Jedi. Without Skywalker to rein them in, some of the Councilors are saber-rattling."

"I am aware of what the Jedi are doing. Sifiss informed me of the situation," Timoris said, "Undien and Dal are pushing to reclaim Jedi artifacts, while Shartan wants to punish them for not stopping Tlon Fett. I know that once it comes to a vote, the Sith infiltrators will vote in favor of war."

"Artifacts? That's the best you could come up with? Going to war for artifacts?" Alyssa tsked. "Your people are strange. More to the point, it's risky. Because I can tell you that war is only going to make Shartan more prominent – and let us say that there are a lot of worried people after Zygerria. That he's lent his voice to this is certainly not conducive for galactic stability."

"He understands the criticality of fear. For both ally and enemy."

"Obviously, but for the Sith, what endgame are they trying to reach? Is this a typical shadow war thing where Vathila wants the galaxy weakened by war? Or is there something else there?" Alyssa paused. "Disregarding the increased profile of one of the most dangerous Jedi in recent history – if Shartan gets a hold of Fett, he'll learn about his deal with the Collective. Then everyone Fett's in contact with in the Senate becomes suspect."

She wasn't surprised Alyssa had touched on this point. Unlike some of her shortsighted… colleagues… she was intelligent, and not blinded by her biases.

"It is risky, something I've pointed out in the past. Despite Altis's assurances, this whole endeavor puts our operations in the Senate in danger, not merely our association with Fett." Timoris sighed and shook her head. "Vathila is far too focused on Javen'Panlie and the artifacts he protects. And she sees him as a threat – even more so now that Alana Skywalker has wed him."

"What?" Alyssa snorted. "I'm sorry, clarify for me – you're telling me that she sees the Mandalorians as more of a threat than the actual Jedi Order? One that holds Palavola, Yaden, Shartan, the other Skywalker…? Do I seriously need to go on?"

"The rational part of me believes she sees them as an easier target," Timoris said, unconvinced. "If we were to attack the Jedi first, Panlie would be inclined to support them. He is formidable in his own right."

"But hardly unbeatable."

"No. The Mandalorians are dangerous, but they are not our greatest threat – or should not be considered such. And furthermore…" Timoris paused dramatically, before deadpanning, "given what happened on Cholganna, I think she needs to reevaluate her priorities."

"Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if a war with the Sith broke out before anything with the Mandos. There's nothing like the threat of the Sith to rally the galaxy." Alyssa smiled, sucking on her e-cigarette. "Oslam has been reaching out to influential senators and military leaders. I requested a meeting for next week – I thought it was high time I introduced myself and cultivated a relationship."

Timoris raised an eyebrow. "You haven't already?"

"Nah, Senator 'Gidwake' was nearing a hundred years old and had to be retired – aircar crash on Coruscant, very tragic," she said with an amused lilt, "I'm now a junior Senator for the fifth time – a plucky young thing from Corellia with naïve ambition galore. That's what Oslam will see. Someone to guide or manipulate as she desires. If nothing else, I can aid her in preventing a foolish war against the Mandos – or at least delaying it."

"Is this level of intervention necessary?" Timoris wondered, "I've seen the reports on Alliance military strength, Alyssa. Surely the Alliance could crush them without issue – even without Jedi aid."

"Without interference, undoubtedly," she answered, "but as we both know, things aren't that simple. If the Star Cabal becomes involved, they might want her humbled or removed. Wouldn't be the first time they started a war to cause a reset, but I'm doubtful about that. No, I'm more concerned that Vathila might decide to attack while we're distracted. Wrong place, wrong time, it could doom this rickety sabacc tower we call the Galactic Alliance – and the Jedi Order, for that matter."

"She's distracted at the moment. This business with Lucius has derailed most of her plans, and until he's dead, that won't change." Timoris smiled. "The Lady fumes and lashes out like a malevolent god agitated that no one worships at her altar. If she were not so dangerous, it would be amusing."

"She sounds like a bore. Actually, she reminds me of the rakata – convinced of their own divine purity," Alyssa snorted, "You and I are among a lucky few to know how true divinity reacts to the universe. I sometimes wonder how things might have changed had our benefactor been less… benevolent."

Timoris shook her head. "Benevolence is a poor word for what It is. If It were benevolent, surely It wouldn't elevate or confide in that lunatic Xabiar."

Timoris knew that if she possessed power such as the Elder One, she would not be nearly so benign. It could rend reality asunder with a snap of its fingers, and yet for the most part it merely observed from afar. Is it benevolence or cruelty to allow this mockery we call 'reality' to continue?

Alyssa shrugged. "We all have a part to play, even him."

Timoris narrowed her eyes. "Perhaps, but Xabiar spreads chaos and death wherever he goes."

"Yes, and the Elder One has promised galactic upheaval before the remaking. Is it really that surprising that It made Xabiar an Anchor like us? Agents of chaos are desirable in calamity."

"True, but it doesn't strike me as a benevolent gesture." She crossed her arms. "Benevolence is not apathy. I know It sees what I see. It sees this accident that was born, it sees this continued corruption and perversion, and it allows it to endure. Everything, every squabble, suffering, tyranny, and pointless conflict could be solved. It could give salvation. And yet it stands by, apathetic."

And apathy is death.

She saw small ice crystals forming on the holoprojector.

Alyssa was quiet for an uncharacteristically long moment. "It saved you."

Timoris was silent, turning her head away. "It needed a pawn… It needed me alone. I know better now. It did not save me out of altruism."

Alyssa's eyes softened. "It hurts to know the truth sometimes. To know that Fate should dictate we live while our loved ones perish. The Elder One made a choice when It came to you… and you made a choice in accepting Its power. We all did."

Timoris was quiet. In the centuries they'd known each other, neither shared what they'd lost. What the price had been. Neither shared their past before becoming Anchors to the Elder One. She wondered if that was good or bad. Long ago she killed her past, but perhaps there was strength in remembering it.

She wondered if she had a choice.

Because that memory simply did not stay buried.

She'd dealt with her own grief when she'd become an Anchor. Losing Ky was… perhaps the most devastating thing that ever happened to her in a lifetime of tragedy and regret. To this day, she remembered everything. Not merely about that day, but everything about him.

Some might see it as a blessing. She knew it was a curse, one inflicted upon her. Perhaps to mock, but likely to remind.

"You don't know what I lost, Alyssa. What was taken from me. What did you lose?"

Alyssa pursed her lips. "…I was young when It approached me. I listened to the offer, understood the nuances – or thought I did. It felt my political aptitudes would be useful."

She paced in the hologram and Timoris frowned, she was speaking like a horror vid narrator.

"The changes were… incredible, as you well know. I could out-think anyone. And the immunity was amazing as well, I had an autoimmune condition and was constantly sick. It was one of the main reasons I took the offer. I lived on a backwater world – poor, of course – and my family couldn't afford the treatments that would have cured me." She paused, and remained silent for just a bit too long. The mood became heady. "I was… pregnant… when I became an Anchor."

Timoris froze, her face became one of horror and revulsion – the underused facial muscles tightening. The hatred and fury that underlined her existence flared upon hearing this. This was cruelty even she would spurn. To be cruel for the sake of it; cruelty without reason or purpose.

No, not without reason.

A reminder.

Her breath turned to ice, visible as she breathed. "It knew?"

"Maybe, I don't know – I didn't know myself; it was too early." She shrugged. "It was a girl. Healthy as any they'd ever scanned. We were so happy to be parents… to create something."

She stopped speaking, though her face made clear she was still trying to. The words simply didn't come out. Her breathing became uneven, and when she finally spoke again, it was with an emotional wheeze. Like every breath was a struggle.

"When they…" her voice clipped with a quiet sob, "When they snipped the… umbilical cord… she screamed. She screamed and screamed and screamed until she couldn't any longer."

Tears dripped down her cheeks and fell to the ground, becoming dust before they reached it – as it was with anything that left an Anchor's body.

Dust.

Ky had died in her arms. Just too late for her to save him. It had almost been too much. It had been the first lesson learned when one was under Its divinity.

She imagined what it would be like, to see a child of her own, to be born, to experience even a glimpse of the beauty of this flawed existence – and then to watch as it disintegrated into dust. To listen as it cried for mercy, condemned to death without ever having a choice.

Sorrow was something she rarely felt any longer, there was little to be sorrowful for. Yet here, now, such a feeling was kindled as she listened – a small flame next to the hatred and revulsion she felt toward the thing which had knowingly inflicted it. And she knew why it was inflicted.

"The being we serve is not benevolent. It is cruel and cold." A pause. "I am sorry for what It did."

Alyssa wiped the dust from her cheeks. "I asked myself what to do at the time. Seeing her die like that… without even a body to lay to rest… it broke me. I lamented everything. The exact moment replaying itself in my mind's eye with perfect clarity at all hours." She paused. "I wallowed in the mire of my solipsistic depression for months."

"It does not fade, does it?"

For once, she seemed surprised. "No. No it does not. I remember it perfectly. Every day. It comes to me when I do not wish it to. I try to move forward. I suppose I have. But you see me now," She looked at the dust on her fingertips. "I cannot tell this story, even today, centuries later, without the tears falling. I never knew why. I did not know it was the same for you."

"It is the same, I suspect it is the same for all of us," Timoris said slowly. "We vividly recall that which drove us to accept Its gift. And saw the ramifications of our attempt to think we could receive divinity without cost."

"…I tried to move past it, but nothing worked. Therapy was redundant, I could out-think the therapists. Drugs did nothing, the picites purged them no matter how much I took. I tried simply not thinking about it, but that just made me think about it more," Alyssa said, "In the end, only time allowed the pain to fade, and when it did… I felt ashamed. Like survivor's guilt or something. I wanted to suffer for what I had done to her. I wanted the agony to last forever. So when the pain would fade, I would retreat into my own mind and collect the memories where I came to terms with what had happened and I would suppress them. After that, the emotion was fresh again – like I'd only just lost her."

She took a drag from her e-cigarette, expelling a fog-like cloud with a sigh. "The pain was so sharp at those moments… I tried to end my life. Time and again, but the picites wouldn't allow it. Hell, even drowning didn't work – they just disassembled the water into hydrogen and oxygen and I breathed that way until I surfaced." She shook her head. "It was two years before I could… well, properly function. I reactivated everything I'd suppressed. It was… selfish, to wallow as long as I did. I'd neglected my husband in that time and he left before I'd come to terms. The Elder One changed me – I wasn't the same person he'd fallen in love with. So I dedicated myself to serving a cause greater than any other."

Timoris turned over the eyeless helmet in her hands. "Did you ever try to delete the memories?"

"Once."

"Did it work?"

"No."

"Mm, it was the same for me when I tried."

"We have so much control over what we know, and what we don't," Alyssa mused, "We can sculpt our minds as we wish – yet it seems It keeps this as a fundamental part. I wonder why?"

"As a reminder." Timoris closed her eyes, luminescence briefly seen. "A monument to our failures, to our hubris, and to our pride. It is to instill in us the most primal urges of fear, so should we ever entertain delusions of supremacy over the divine, we look back at what we loved most, and that It took such from us."

She smiled sadly. "It is our chain; one we can never forget or ignore. It can only drive us, and it drives us towards service."

Through victory, my chains are broken.

The Force shall free me.

And yet, those who wrote the Sith Code had never conceived of something above the Force.

Both women, immortal and invincible, slipped into silence. Timoris held Alyssa's gaze for a moment before looking away.

"I think I see what you meant with your advice earlier." Alyssa smiled again, a smaller one. "Perhaps it is best that I do not see the world as you do. Perhaps it is best my sight is limited to the material."

"Yes. For the best."

"With all this said, at the end of the day, my friend," Alyssa continued, "are we more than our thoughts? Or are we a collection of memories masquerading as people?"

" 'Luminous beings we are, not this crude matter.' "

"You? Quoting a Jedi?" Alyssa chuckled. "Everything, now I've seen."

"That one was right about some things, but especially for us, whatever made us is…" Timoris waved a hand. "Something else. Our bodies are saturated in picomachines. Our minds are constantly uploaded to a backup medium. Every single cell has been rebuilt from scratch until nothing is really us anymore. And yet, we are we, are we not?"

"Quite poetic for you, Timoris."

"Words are beautiful. One of the few things that can be."

"And you think I waste my time with opera."

"No, I think you spend too much time at the Galaxies Opera House."

Alyssa chuckled. "It's not so bad. You should dress up and meet me for a show sometime."

Timoris almost blanched. "In person? No, I am busy."

"Ah, ah, ah." Alyssa lifted a finger. "No. Not this time. Come on, Timoris, you've been 'busy' for over a century! You need to live a little. Spend time with a friend. And if the sight of so much life around you is too aggravating, take your blindfold. I'll be your blind escort. Just come and listen to the music. I know you like that."

She did.

"You keep calling me your friend," Timoris said, "I'm not sure you know what it means."

"Oh? You don't consider me a friend?"

Timoris didn't answer for a few seconds. "I do not know if I can truly have friends, not as I once understood it. But you are… tolerable. More than others that come to mind. Even more than those in my own Order."

Alyssa smiled sadly. "I consider you my friend because you're one of the few who understands me. And because you won't die of old age like everyone else I've known. In the end, we have only each other."

Timoris looked away, shifting uncomfortably. She'd been alone since the end of the Third Imperial Civil War, since becoming an Anchor to the Elder One. She pushed people away to focus on her work and her ambitions and… maybe to protect herself as well. And few people were desirable to interact with to begin with, let alone become close to.

It was lonely without Ky. His absence left a void. A void that was not, and could not be filled by anyone else – even before the lifespan issues were taken into consideration. It was demoralizing to think of forming attachments with such short-lived people.

Another consequence of this imperfect life.

Maybe she could take the risk just this once.

They did share something it seemed, even if it was an eternal pain.

"I'll… consider it. I promise nothing more."

Alyssa smiled triumphantly. "I knew you'd come around. We're gonna have so much fun, Rey!"

Timoris growled in irritation and cut the transmission before the woman could say anything more. "That's not my name."

She held up her helmet and inspected it, the same kind of helmet worn by Emperor Jadus millennia ago – with some minor modifications. Polished chrome with red accents. No eyes or features that one could cling to when looking upon a face. This was mirrored blankness – unsettling on its own, infinitely more so when she wore it.

And it also blinded her. So many assumed there was something underneath, a HUD or viewscreen or something… but there was nothing.

Blackness to the blind.

Luminance to those who saw.

She placed it on her head, listening to the hiss as it connected to the rest of her armor and pressurized. The beautiful darkness inside giving way to the panoply of colored nuance when one viewed the universe through the Force alone. She turned on her heel and approached the door, waiting as it and the wall and the trophy case moved out of the way again. She suppressed her impatience. A few seconds was nothing to a mortal being, to her, it was less than nothing – and one could never exercise too much caution regarding their secrets.

But as she had learned today, perhaps there was some value in sharing them. If nothing else, it was a lesson to remember.

Now, she had work to do.

And, perhaps, a mystery to unravel. Lucius was far too important to Vathila. Perhaps it was time she learned why.