Dark Clouds Gather

He walked out on the bridge of the Leviathan, looking for her. He needed to report to her and he knew that today one of two things would happen: his Apprentice would become the Master or he would still retain his role as the Master. Darth Cain—Dietrich Cain—could only hope that he would still retain his life.

The 70-year old man had definitely retained his vigour and skill with a blade, but he knew that soon enough, he would be killed and Sebastian Marseilles would become the Master. He needed to show that woman how capable he was—Cain had no intention of dying before he and his apprentice would ascend to leader of the Sith Remnant. Then together, they could crush the Jedi and take over the Galaxy—as is the way of the Sith.

He strode through the auxiliary bridge, passing through the officers, only to come to halt as he stopped on the small observation deck. The lights were dimmed to battle readiness, as always. He looked around and saw the Captain of the vessel, talking to several subordinate officers. Taking in a deep breath, the charismatic older man walked up to the Captain and said, "where is Mistress Traya?"

The Captain, a short, stocky figure replied gruffly, "the Mistress is in the former bridge—the Throne room."

"Ah," he said, turning and leaving, feeling exceptionally irate and embarrassed. He could imagine several of the officers laughing at him. In fact he could feel it. But he wouldn't harm any of the Dark Mistress' servants—that could incur severe punishment.

As he entered the turbolift, he sighed as it moved upward—towards the throne room. I will have to come straight to the point, no distracting banters. I can only hope she will let me live, he thought as the door hissed open. He rather preferred to stay aboard his flagship, paying attention to the masks of the fallen Sith Lords that filled his personal quarters. They included the masks of Darths Nihilus, Revan and even the jaw-mask of Darth Malak. He had acquired the last one from the hands of a bounty hunter, whose expression was priceless before being launched out of the airlock. Before he could allow himself to be lost in the thought of the masks, he walked through the doorway.

The dark silhouette of a figure could be seen near the viewport. "What news do you bring, Lord Cain?" She asked coldly.

"Mistress," he began, walking towards her, kneeling as he continued, "I have failed you. My cruiser engaged Dantooine—but was halted by a Jedi." The mere mention of the Order seemed to linger in his mouth with some distaste.

"So the cruiser was destroyed, I take it?"

"Y-yes, Mistress," he said softly.

"Well, it was the fault of the fool in charge. Rise, Lord Cain, I would suggest that you find more suitable commanders for your vessels—or I will."

He gulped and rose, now towering over her. "Yes, Mistress."

"You may leave," she said.

Soon, she heard footsteps walking away and the hiss of the turbolift's doors. The fool has left, she thought brazenly.

"Do you really think that he deserved to live?" Came another voice.

"Rest easy, Xa," Atris replied. "He will serve his uses—and the time is coming ever so closer."

"Ah yes, the grand removal of the Jedi Order and the Republic in one swoop," Lotus said mockingly, as she appeared out of the shadows, including Horn, Torn and Deus. "Do you really think it will work that quickly?"

"The time doesn't matter," the white haired woman answered. "All that matters is the removal of the Jedi, the Republic and the continuation of war."

"Or the complete dissolution of the Republic," Lotus added. "After all," she shrugged, running one hand over the statuesque Deus' chest, "the elimination of the Republic will only encourage our allies to allow their greed to consume them."

"I find it very interesting that you seem to know all the details to my plans."

"I was a follower of your predecessor after all," she replied nonchalantly. Lotus' footsteps echoed throughout the room.

"Was she like this?"

"Traya? No. She enjoyed the occasional witty banter—and the occasional execution of an ignorant fool. The way of the Sith is far much more than the baser emotions, my friend."

"So I've been told," Atris quipped.

"Regardless of what you intend to do, Traya, I only have eyes for one Jedi. You can kill everyone else."

Atris turned around and smiled, for the first time in a long time. "Ah, forbidden love?"

Lotus continued to caress the armour of the self-imposed bodyguard of Traya. "Let's just say that this one has left a mark in me that I will never forget."

"So, someone bested you."

Lotus stopped and glared at the amused figure. "As I recall, so were you."

"Perhaps," Atris said, shrugging it off, "but they had made a fatal mistake."

"Oh?"

"The fools allowed you and I to live. Now they will pay with their arrogance and foolishness."

"Perhaps you can tell me more, but for now," Lotus yawned, "I am going to go get some rest. Good night, Traya."

Atris turned around to face the stars, to resume her ceaseless scheming. Horn and Torn dissipated into the shadows, but Deus waited for her patiently, almost as if he were an obedient pup.

After another moment, Atris turned around and finally spoke up. "Deus, have you ever been to the Galactic Center?"

The figure shook his head.

"It's a shame," she sighed. "You would really love it there."

Deus only nodded.

Suddenly, a thought came to mind and Atris cocked her head to one side. "How would you like to go to Coruscant?"

Deus nodded.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Atris smiled. "Well then," she said, "let's take up Lotus' idea. We'll hasten the deed—the Republic knows we're here. Go to the Senate—while they're in the middle of a meeting—and give them a meeting they would never forget."

The figure bowed and left.

"Oh, Deus," she called out, causing the figure to turn around, "take a group of Dark Jedi with you. It will be a marvelous event. And if the Jedi try to interfere, kill them."

Deus bowed and continued towards the turbolift.

Things will move much sooner—and there is no need for the Corellian installation anymore, she thought. General Scrimshaw will prove most valuable as well—the Republic will be torn asunder. And not even the might of the new Jedi Order will be able to stop it!


"So she rescued you from the Dark Side?" Dante sounded in awe as Visas recounted her tale with the Exile, Theresa Falcus. He had been clad in other clothing that he had guiltily looked for throughout the city. He wore a deep crimson tunic and black breeches, along with his worn black boots. His lightsaber and other clothing were up in the room he was resting in. He had been on the planet for a number of days and he had found it very interesting, as he listened to Visas' stories about her past.

"No, I said that she showed me that there was more to life and honouring the dead than by taking vengeance for the sake of vengeance." For some reason, Visas had found herself at remarkable ease with the Jedi Knight before her. They were inside a humble home, near the fireplace in the living room, as they both sat comfortably on a sofa, drinking sweet nectar.

"So how exactly did you defeat Nihilus?"

"Theresa guided me through the ways of the Force and together we overcame his power—which was beyond anything I could ever imagine."

"I would like to meet her—if I am ever to leave this planet that is," he smiled.

"I have a transport," she said, finding herself smiling and silently berating herself for speaking too quickly. "I mean, if you would like, I have a transport that can take you off Katarr."

"I would like that very much," he said, "thank you."

She felt the effects of the nectar wearing down on her—even for a Jedi, she had consumed quite a bit. "You're welcome to rest here and tomorrow you can leave," she said after a moment.

"Won't you come with me?" His expression seemed surprised.

"I intend to stay here, and listen to what the Force is saying," she answered softly and almost monotonously.

"It would appear as if you have been saying that to yourself for quite some time," Dante reasoned. "Is that what you truly want?"

She bit her lower lip and looked askance. "It's what the Force wants."

Dante's gaze looked towards the fire, gazing at the burning embers of the wood. "It seems to me that the Force wants something else. It isn't by random chance that I came here—the Force willed it."

"Perhaps," she drawled.

"And perhaps it also means that it is time for you to leave Katarr," he said gently. "I am not trying to recruit you into the Order, if that is what you think."

"No," she said, looking at him, her gold embroidered veil hiding her eyeless sockets. "I know that, it is just—I—I just don't know yet."

After a moment, Dante spoke softly. "If you feel you are not ready to rejoin the Galaxy at this time, then I understand. I feel that the Force has brought me here to you for a reason, Visas, and what the Force wants of you, is something you need to ask yourself." He rose. "I think we should get some sleep," he said, smiling as he lowered his hand for her to take.

She accepted and rose with his help.

"I will leave sometime tomorrow—thank you once more, Visas. If you choose to come with me, then we will leave Katarr together." He produced a small object—a short-wave comlink he had found in his search for new clothing. "If not, then take this," he handed it to her, "and when you're ready to join us, give me a call."

She smiled. "Thank you, Master Dante."

"Please," he said, "I've told you many times, call me Dante."

"Very well," she said, "thank you, Dante."

That night, Dante lay in bed as he couldn't help but wonder what the Force wanted of him. He had found himself thinking about Rena, hoping that she was well, but he also found himself thinking about Visas. He had come to her for a reason, he was sure of it. Visas had spent a long time on her homeworld, and perhaps now it was time for her to accept the lessons she had learned on Katarr and move on.

But he also felt something disturbing, something darker. Somewhere, a powerful body was moving throughout the Galaxy, closing in on the Galactic Center. He began to worry greatly about Rena, hoping that she would be safe. Come tomorrow, Dante would leave Katarr, with or without Visas. The Galaxy needed him, and though he felt a kindred connection to Visas, he knew that their destinies would take them elsewhere if the Force willed her not to join him come tomorrow.

For now, though, he would choose sleep and hope that he would come ever closer to joining his apprentice. That vision he had only caused him to hope she was all right. If anything should ever happen to her, he thought, as he clenched his fist. No, I won't lose her—she is destined for great things, and I would rather die than allow anything to happen to her.