Alliances
Shortly after their vessel had landed, both Jolee and Frreral entered the five-spire Temple.
"Ah, it's been a long time since I've been to Coruscant," the smaller figure mumbled.
"You've been here before?" Frreral asked.
"Of course, but I'm not surprised that you wouldn't know," he said. "I've been here since before you were born—which reminds me, how old are you anyway?"
"43," he said.
"43? and you're still a Knight?"
"Like you, I began to learn to read two sides to the story—and I've retained the rank of Knight for almost 20 years."
The older Master could only whistle. "I achieved rank of Master at the age of 30—a feat few have ever managed."
"Master Jace attained the rank of Master and Council member at the age of 29, the youngest Master ever," Frreral replied.
"You kids and your music," the old man could only mumble.
Frreral couldn't help but chuckle slightly.
"Everyone's a Jedi Knight these days," he muttered.
"Not quite true," a familiar voice said. "There are more Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries than Jedi Knights these days."
"Ash?" The old Jedi looked at the calm, composed figure standing in front of him and the wookiee. "Is that you?"
"Of course, I'm the only one that decided to stick around for the Jedi."
"Sad to say, I'd imagine, huh?" Jolee asked, lightly nodding his head.
"Unfortunately yes. Things may have changed, but the Jedi Order is on the mend."
"So our mutual friend here says," Jolee said, indicating Frreral.
"Come, you must be tired and have much to ask," Ash said, ushering both Jedi to come to the Council Chambers.
"Heh, some things never change," Jolee said. "Offer hospitality, but first we make our way to the Council—that is, if there still is one?"
"There is, though it entails most of us able-bodied Jedi. And there's someone you might recognize, who is the head of the Council."
"I felt his presence the moment I entered the Temple—I must say, he's done quite well. Calm too, that one—even if he flirts with the Dark Side."
As the trio entered the Council Chambers, Jolee stopped in awe at the figure that sat before him. He couldn't help but smile—as it seemed all he was capable of at the moment.
"Master Bindo?" Cyrin exclaimed as he rose from his seat.
"Cyrin," he finally mustered, "it's been a long time."
"Indeed it has, my former Master."
The others in the Council—Tarn, Len, Dante, Frreral and Sneed—were surprised at the presence of one of the most famous Jedi Masters in the annals of the Jedi Order. It even shocked them that this was the one who had trained the hard-as-nails Master Cyrin Jace.
What Dante—and presumably the others—found most curious was that, to some degree, Jolee seemed to bare an odd resemblance to Cyrin. He chose not to say anything, as he noticed both Masters were surprised—and perhaps glad—to see one another.
"Perhaps it is best that we talk later," Cyrin said. "We still have to finish this…meeting. Take a seat, Master Bindo," he said, offering a seat next to him.
The trio found their respective seat and began to listen to the discussion.
"Please continue, Dante," Cyrin said.
"The artifacts are in the archives now, but there is still the matter of Atris. Rena and I downloaded whatever we could from the databank before Telosian Security Force officials began to investigate the Academy. From the records, which weren't much, we've determined that Atris had eliminated all records of her ever being there. In fact, all we have is Mical meditating and training—before he engaged the TSF squadron. The other artifacts have not been tampered with. In fact, most of them have not been used in quite some time."
"So we still do not know the presence of Atris?"
"That is correct, Ash," Dante replied. "There is no indication of where she might have gone."
"Or if she still lives," Len suggested.
"Well, if she does live—as Traya or as herself—she will have much to answer for," Cyrin said flatly. He sighed and after a moment he spoke up. "Tamar Gran'gerst is delaying with the location of the facility—and I think it is safe to say that we don't want any other losses to the Order."
"Could he be behind the disappearances of Gideon and Toll?" Tarn asked.
"It is possible—I felt something emanate from him. And he has learned extensive mental disciplining. He was hiding something during our meeting."
"And what of the Senators?" Ash inquired.
"We still do not yet know who they are. I sense something elusive—almost as if someone is planning the destruction of the Jedi and the Galaxy." Cyrin sighed.
"What about Dantooine?" Jolee inquired.
"Dantooine?" Dante asked.
"There must be some artifacts, let alone some answers, hidden there—last I heard, the Enclave was rebuilt," he explained.
"Only to have the Masters killed by Traya," Sneed rebuked.
"However, it does pose a possibility—the rebuilt Enclave would have some form of Jedi-encrypted security codes. If there is anything there, only the Jedi could enter the Enclave," Len suggested.
"Or former Jedi," Ash finished.
"Either way," Cyrin said, "it still merits a search."
The other Jedi merely nodded.
"Dante," Cyrin said at last, "you will go to Dantooine to search for anything that will give us clues to Atris' disappearance—and the whereabouts of this Sith Remnant. Rena will stay here and continue to comb through the Telos Archives."
"Very well," the Knight replied.
"Now," Cyrin began, turning to Frreral, his eyes shifting towards Jolee every now and again, "what exactly occurred on Kashyyyk?"
The Leviathan orbited the Outer Rim world of Utapau, waiting for the number of carrier groups that had sworn allegiance to their new leader. As always, Atris found herself lost in thought, wondering when she had made the decision to become the new Traya. The holocrons accompanied her on board the vessel she had managed to scrounge from a floating graveyard—presumably where the Starforge had once been.
Like the Mandalorian Wars, Atris had never participated in the Jedi Civil War, though she was forced to slay several Dark Jedi as she made her way into self-imposed exile. Once more, she had saved the holocrons that had become her Masters. The ghosts of the holocrons ceased once she began to learn the limitless powers and ways of the Sith, as her eyes were opened by her predecessor, Darth Traya. Soon, she became the Master and the ghosts of the holocrons ceased to exist.
Her mind had turned towards the figure that had accompanied her predecessor and Theresa Falcus—the one known as the Exile. He had been far too easy to convert—especially since he returned to the Academy with the hopes of finishing her off. But as always, the desires in one's heart tended to be their utmost and most pivotal downfalls. It had been recorded in the annals of history, and so once more, Mical the Disciple had fallen to every word that came from her cold thin lips.
To think, she grinned maliciously, the fool actually thought he had come to finish me off—granting both her and I some form of ease. He was too easy to manipulate—the feelings in his heart—for her—were such a blessing that it only took a few moments to help him realize his potential at my side. She scoffed, as it echoed throughout the room, joining in the rhythmic humming of the ship's engines.
And all it took was removing his eyes to make him see that she would only continue to use him for her own devices. Now, he has completed all the useful tasks for me and he is undoubtedly awaiting that unfulfilled promise of the Exile's return. It is a shame that he will not be around to see her return. Telos shall once again fall into the lifeless planet it once was, despite the Republic's pitiful attempts to revive life from lifelessness. She sighed, soothed as she focused her mind on the gentle and monotonous gyrations of the warship's engines.
It surprised her that the Leviathan had been left relatively untouched in the final battle that determined the fate of the Republic and the Sith Empire. Something about the history—and her past as the historian of the Jedi Archives—of the vessel called to her. It somehow seemed appropriate to use the former flagship of the Sith to be the new flagship of the remaining Sith that had sworn loyalty to her. Now the fools had all joined her—save for one. But that one would be on his way soon; real soon.
The bridge was empty, converted into nothing but her personal throne room, from which to command her legions of Sith—the legions of fools who had sworn their lives to her. The light had dimmed to a point where the room was a shade of blue, where only the minute switches and beeps would flash every now and again. The crew was stationed in the auxiliary bridge, eager to obey their new Master's wishes. The silence and solace that was afforded to her didn't bother her in the slightest; in fact, she had grown fond of it during her time in Telos.
In the darkest recesses of space, one could find himself wondering about anything in the Galaxy. Atris, on the other hand, found herself wondering how a historian of the Jedi could ever have amassed an army as large as this. How could she have amassed something that would force the Republic to turn to what she had created—to unleash its unholy presence into the Galaxy, consuming it into a fiery death? Atris closed her eyes, and felt her anger wash over, covering every doubt—every inch of remorse—as one name had called out to her.
Revan.
It had all started because of Revan, and no one—not even the Jedi Remnant—could stop what she would unleash into the Galaxy.
Once more, a beeping switch had awoken her from those thoughts that kept her company. Her eyes opened and she began to walk towards a control terminal and tapped a key on the console. "Yes?"
"Lord Cain and his company have arrived in-system. His flagship is stating that he is on his way via shuttle, Mistress."
"Arrogant fool," she muttered. "All right, I'll be on my way shortly, Traya out." She sighed and shook her head as she walked out of her throne room, making her way to the hangar bay—eager to seal this new alliance. As her predecessor had once said, To be united by hatred is a fragile alliance at best.
Shortly after she had made it towards the hangar, with Horn and Torn on either side of her, followed closely by Deus, Atris saw two figures and a group of Sith elite soldiers standing at attention, clad in their crimson and black armour.
"Ah, Mistress Traya, I presume," the older of the two figures said. He bowed, as did his apprentice. He was clad in the finest clothes, as he wore a velvet armourweave cape around him, covering his deep velvet tunic and breeches. His hair was slick back and was silver; he somehow appeared youthful and exuberant, something which many Sith in his wizened age seemed to lack—as well as his height, which allowed him to tower over the woman and even her personal guards. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said, "I am Dietrich Cain, and this," turning to his side, stood another figure, "is my apprentice—Sebastian Marseilles."
Marseilles merely bowed. He was a quiet man, slightly shorter than his Master; his dark eyes betrayed the darkness within him, revealing that this was someone to be avoided when walking through dark alleys. He wore black robes, with Fibermesh armour outlining his chest and torso. Along his left hip dangled a long lightsaber hilt—Atris assumed that this man was trained to wield a double-edged lightsaber. She would certainly enjoy watching how he performed against her assassins and even Deus. The Beta was certainly powerful in the Force—and his skill with a blade was rumoured to be unparalleled. Or so Tamar had said.
"What is it you seek, Dietrich Cain?" She asked sharply. She did not like it when others interrupted her just to impress her. Persons tended to go missing and bodies would start to show up on planets much later on.
"With your permission, I would like my fleet to join yours, so that we may crush our mutual enemies, once and for all."
"Then consider yourself a commander of a fleet—namely yours. Just be ready when the time is right, Darth Cain. I'll call upon your skills shortly, for our time will be at hand." Atris began to walk away, startling even the older Jedi and his apprentice.
"Is that it, milady?" Cain asked, slightly flattered he would be honoured with the title of Darth, yet disappointed that she would merely cast a glance his way. He did bring a fleet of Sith followers, after all.
"Were you expecting a ceremony? Consider yourself lucky you caught me in a good mood, Lord Cain—otherwise I would have ordered my fleet to eliminate your shuttle while traversing the depths of space. I will not be so forgiving next time. Oh," she added, "dispatch one of your cruisers to Dantooine—ensure that the rebuilt Enclave is destroyed, along with any traces of the Jedi there." With that she left, not caring how the Sith felt, but understanding that he would now do everything in his power to take over. His humiliation would force him to be loyal to her for a long time, playing out his own game until he felt ready to eliminate her and ascend. He will never live to see the day—but I have uses for his fleet—and him for the time being, she thought to herself, as her ultimate goal began to take shape. Soon the day would come when the Republic and the Jedi Order would be decimated—along with the Galaxy.
As Darth Traya had said, a year ago—to be united by hatred is a fragile alliance at best. Atris had no intention of allowing anyone feel that they were on par with her—not even her new assassin: Lotus Xa. Those who deluded themselves into thinking that they were on equal terms with the Dark Mistress of the Sith, would soon find themselves floating in the dark recesses of space. And very soon, many would be found floating in space.
