Well, my faithful readers, the end of Harry Potter and the Power of the Dark Side draws nigh, but fret not, for it is not the end, but merely the beginning! as one story closes another will open, and you will see... yes indeed, the true darkness of the Sith and their cause unfurl. but for now, patience a while longer, and enjoy these final upcoming moments of the noose drawing tightly around the wizarding world's neck...
Chapter Forty Nine
In the Dark of the Night
Zhar wasn't more pleased with the success of his mission then when he landed once again on Dromund Kaas and was finally able to turn over the eleven Sith Pureblood teens to Lath Dass'in and the rest of the teachers of the Dark Side Temple there. The others were more than willing to receive them, and quickly set aside rooms together for them to use as dormitories.
It was the last time that Zhar saw them for a while; however he had more important matters on his mind. He had precious few hours to himself, spent eating and seeing to the maintenance of his ship, before he was summoned by the Supreme Prophet for a new assignment.
Finding the Kel-dor in the middle of the training room, Zhar quickly approached. "You summoned my, Supreme Prophet?"
"Ah yes, Zhar we're very pleased that you've returned so quickly, and in addition with so many young Purebloods. The Force is strong with each of them, and we expect great things to come from each of them. However, I called you to talk about yourself."
"How so, my Lord?" Zhar said quickly, intently curious as to what the Lords of the Sith required of him. "Walk with me," Dass'in said, turning to leave the hall, which only raised his curiosity further.
Following quickly, Zhar was led to Dass'in's private quarters, where a large holoprojector stood. The Dorian flipped the ignition switch and stood aside as the blue-ish holographic field burst into life, forming a figure with cowl drawn deeply over his face.
"Zhar Quelmok," the figure said slowly, drawing out his name even as Zhar bent at the waist in respect. "My Lord, Veneficus." Zhar replied, "What is it that I can do for you?"
"There is a matter that I have foreseen," the Sith Apprentice said cryptically, "a new development in the Galaxy that we must exploit before the knowledge is lost to us. I want you to go to the Khomm system, and from them steal a copy of their newest cloning technology, returning it here for safekeeping."
"Cloning technology, my Lord?" Zhar said, confused, but the Sith Lord gave no answers to his reasoning.
"This mission is of absolute importance and secrecy. You are to communicate it to none else but myself, through Dass'in. Failure will not be tolerated in this matter, which is why I have chosen you. Your record for success in difficult missions is testament enough of your loyalty to the Sith cause."
"Thank you my Lord, I will depart within the week for Khomm." Zhar replied, bowing again as the Sith Lord abruptly cut the feed.
"You will have all the intelligence about Khomm that we have to give," Dass'in said as he stepped back around the holoprojector, "and I will personally make certain that you have all the supplies that you possibly could need."
Zhar nodded, his own mind whirling. Not so much on the details of how to accomplish his mission, but why. If Veneficus himself was contacting him with a secret mission, did that mean he was operating out of the jurisdiction of Lord Millennial? If that was the case, Zhar might return from this mission to find a new Sith Master on the throne, which would put him in a very good position if and when he succeeded. Failure was obviously not an option, regardless of any surrounding events.
"I'll stay for a short time only, before moving on. The Jedi are keen to capture me still, and have placed a Council Master on the hunt." Zhar said neutrally, allowing the Supreme Prophet to absorb the information.
"We'll do what we can to keep the Jedi from discovering you for as long as possible," he responded, before showing Zhar out of his quarters.
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Hermione struggled to keep her hands steady as a trickle of sweat crawled down her face. This stage of her final experiment was delicate at best, and she could afford no distraction to interrupt her carving of the stabilizing rune set onto her prototype spell capacitor. With all the work that had been piled onto the students before the Christmas break, along with both the Yule Ball and Second Task demanding her attention to support Harry in his endeavors in the Tournament, she had sadly fallen somewhat behind on her progress with the all important project to usher the Wizarding world into the twentieth century.
Not that she was willing to admit any sort of defeat. Hermione had promised Harry that she would be finished when he requested the prototype after the Second Task, and she would do this on her own. Other, lesser minds would only slow her down and she didn't have the time or patience to walk someone else through her methods.
And thus here she was, scratching out the last, and most important section on her own, with her nose barely inches from her tools as she carved a metal rod with miniscule runes down its length. Once finished, if everything went as she had calculated, the rod could be activated to absorb one spell, saving it until discharged by a set command word.
This item would be the catalyst of all projects to come, Hermione could feel it. With the combination of a storage device for pure magic, and the ability to preserve a preset spell, they would be able to branch out into limitless imaginings. Cycling the magic into the rod, with testing, could allow for the spell saved being cast over and over, which Hermione was already tinkering with on the side. That alone would see Harry's vision of space travel well and truly founded at last, leaving only minor details and time consuming labor to stand in their way.
With a final etching, the rod started to hum with suppressed power, Hermione's own magic bringing it to life. Success at last! Hefting the foot and a half long metal instrument, Hermione tested the balance, noting several flaws that would need to be fixed in future versions, but for a prototype she could happily present this to Harry for the green light. She wasn't looking forward to teaching the others the meticulous and painstaking process to prevent injury or accident, but it was something she had to learn to lower herself to doing if others were to have any opportunity to advance to her level.
Besides, Theodore Nott seemed bright enough to pick it up quickly, and then she could make him teach the others while she could then focus on far more important pursuits, such as improving the design to take it further. Hermione was sure that there would be an easy way to compress the rune lines so that the tool could be far smaller, allowing it to be easily fit into places on much larger components, which she felt was the intended purpose of the devise.
Gazing up toward the darkened sky outsight, she frowned. There was precious little time left for her to quickly catch up on her sleep and prepare for the coming day of classes. So soon she had grown quite bored with the coursework, already taking many shortcuts that Harry had often advised her on, to allow her the most amount of time possible to do what she was quickly growing to love, inventing.
Alas, they all had to attend Hogwarts for at least three more years before the wizarding world allowed them to act as adults, but sometimes Hermione wasn't sure if she could wait till then to devote all her time and talents to this life altering project, and those that would inevitably follow. Colonizing a fresh world was something that the muggles hadn't even considered, let alone wizards, and there would be countless preparations that would have to be made. Magic was of little use without air to breathe and speak incantations in for one, not to mention supplying food and water, only one of which magic could create from nothing.
Preparing for bed with a satisfied smile on her face, Hermione sighed. There would be time enough to get all those things in order she supposed, as she had to do something to keep herself amused for the rest of Hogwarts, even while still sailing leaps and bounds ahead of her classmates.
She fell asleep that night with dreams of the future, after making sure that her pet project was secured in the thrice locked section of her trunk. Some other Ravenclaws were too curious for their own good, and several had already been on the business end of her wand in defense of her possessions.
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As the end of the school year drew ever nearer, Veneficus almost wanted to laugh at the flurry of emotions that filled the air of Hogwarts School. Aside from the typical childish wants and desires that permeated the grounds, there was a deep sense of foreboding when the subject of the final task of the Triwizard Tournament inevitably came up as subject for gossip. Veneficus himself sometimes couldn't be helped but be swept up in the furor of the students, many of which, now that Weasley and his little gang had been put in their place, were quick to side with him and state with impunity that they really had supported him all along, and wished him well with the final task, not that any had doubts that he would carry off a stunning victory for their school.
It was such a typical response that Veneficus couldn't help but feel giddy at the prospect of what would really happen during and as a result of the final task. There would be none but himself that would ever expect such an outcome to happen, and he only because of his crystal clear visions that came on a near nightly basis during his meditations. He had a perfect map of exactly how and where to move and act to achieve his goals now and there was nothing left to chance that could stop him.
As he was walking to Arithmancy, one of the few classes that still held any interest to him, a stinging pain burst from behind the scar that Veneficus had been gifted from Voldemort when he was an infant. The mark still held a residue of magic connecting him to the dark wizard, and the open brooding of the supposed dark lord was threatening to pull Veneficus directly into the man's mind.
Dodging to the side from the press of students in the corridor, Veneficus fished out his time turner as the headache started to interfere with his thinking. Spinning back an hour, he slumped as the pain reached an agonizing level. Allowing the man's rage to draw him in, he found himself staring out of the dark wizard's eyes, stunted and sitting low in the high back chair of Little Hangleton.
Veneficus had seen this place before, when he was visiting the graveyard where the man's muggle father was buried. In the room with the weakened dark lord was his massive serpent familiar, as well as a very familiar balding man with watery eyes and a pointed nose. Who was wheezing and sobbing on the hearth run in front of him.
"You are in luck, Wormtail," Voldemort was saying, dragging out the man's nickname sarcastically. "You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is now dead."
"My Lord!" gasped the wretch of a man on the floor before Veneficus and Voldemort. "My Lord, I am… I am so pleased… and so sorry…"
Veneficus smirked within the dark wizard's mind, knowing that they were referring to Barty Crouch Senior and his subsequent death at the hands of his own son.
The serpent hissed angrily, tongue fluttering in and out. "Nagini," the wizard whispered in Parseltongue, "you are out of luck. I will not be feeding Wormtail to you, after all… but never mind, never mind… there is still Potter…"
The snake hissed again, making Pettigrew cower.
"Now, Wormtail," Voldemort continued coldly, "perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you…"
"My Lord… no… I beg you…"
The tip of the dark wizard's wand flashed in the gloom, pointing at Wormtail.
"Crucio!" he said coldly.
Wormtail screamed, filling Veneficus' ears with the delightful noise and even the burning of his scar override the sadistic glee that the Sith Lord felt as his betrayer was punished. But alas, there were other things that he had to tend to himself, and he couldn't remain to enjoy himself as long as he'd like.
Pulling himself from the madman's mind, he returned to himself in the side room of Hogwarts castle. Shaking himself at the foolishness of Voldemort, Veneficus continued on his way, arriving at the class earlier than the rest of his housemates. Nott, Anguis and a few others glanced at him confused for his appearance ahead of them when he had originally been trailing behind, but he ignored them.
Let all the fools think him oblivious to their machinations, such as Voldemort was, it would only make the moment he struck all the more sweet. Until then, and the Third Task, he would calmly keep his head down, while the last remnants of his various plans fell together, to seal the fate of Voldemort, Dumbledore, the Sith, and indeed the entire Galaxy.
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Two months.
That was how long Fenrir Greyback lasted under the torment and meticulous inspection of Darth Millennial. The werewolf had indeed been powerful, far more than Remus Lupin, who still languished in his own private cell under the manor house. Many hundreds of thousands of tests had the Sith Lord performed, and countless samples had been forcefully removed from the man, until there was indeed nothing left of the beast-like human, but it had not been for merely sadistic pleasure.
Millennial had learned immense amounts of information regarding the werewolf 'curse' and its highly cosmic Force origins. He was more than convinced that there had been many more like his apprentice on this world long before now, and quite possible more yet to appear, and one of these ancients had worked a mixture of wild and cosmic Force, much like the Sith Alchemist, in creating the bestial tool of the werewolf, then unleashed it upon the world.
It was no work of magnificence, like those of the ancient Sith Lords from ages long past, but a marvelous feat in and of itself. A creature able to hide among its own prey, becoming the ravenous wolf when bidden by either the position of the moon or, as he later found out, by command of a powerful Force user.
Even now Millennial was off to test his hypothesis, choosing a day long from any rising of the moon to visit the weakling in his makeshift dungeon.
Lupin stirred weakly as the light from the chamber beyond his cell blinded him, but remained silent. Millennial preferred it this way, as much as he would enjoy sadistically tormenting their captive, he was Veneficus' prisoner foremost, and Millennial didn't wish to interfere with the torment that his apprentice would undoubtedly inflict on the man that would more than rival what he could.
Wordlessly, Millennial strode forward into the gloom of the cell, and as Lupin blearily recognized another in the room with him, he flinched away. The Sith Master smiled at the beast's fright, sensing that the man was beginning to turn feral within his own mind, the animal within gaining strength as the 'civilized' man was weakened. It would make his test all the easier.
Reaching out with his unlimited power, Millennial forced the half-crazed man upright, pulling the chains binding him taught. A growl escaped Lupin's throat, but Millennial already was entering the split mind, driving forcefully through the maddened thoughts and beast-like instincts, searching for the pattern that controlled the transformation.
The beast within Lupin howled in protest, being so far removed from the ancients and nearly governed by the rise and fall of the moon, rather than the orders of another. But the Dark Side was all powerful, and the creature, so weak from starvation and immobilization could not resist.
A howl pierced the relative silence of the cell as the white werewolf manifested itself in place of the feeble man, straining against the silver that held it restrained and helpless, despite its clear power and superhuman strength. Millennial amused himself for a few moments, watching as the beast obeyed his commands to the best of its ability. Millennial could easily see why the primitive darksider used them so long ago. The werewolves were perfect assassins and shock warriors. But it was not his place to use these warriors. Millennial had foreseen long ago that Veneficus' place was to bring these warriors to bear against the Jedi, and tear their precious Republic to the ground.
But the boy would first have to get through Millennial, and despite all the Sith apprentice's newfound powers, Millennial still held things in reserve for their final battle. Even still, Millennial wasn't too sure about his prospects when it came to that point. Even now, after so long an exposure to the magical world, he was woefully ignorant of the extent of what Veneficus had learned, and that was dangerous for him as the reining Sith Master.
Absently, Millennial fingered the hilt of his curved lightsaber as he left the werewolf to torment itself in its rage. There felt to be precious little time before the boy would rise up against him, and he ought to be spending what he could preparing for the battle that would ensue.
One thing was certain in Millennial's mind; he would not allow the boy to defeat him easily, regardless of what future he may have seen. It would be Veneficus' final test, and Millennial had every intention to make it the most difficult experience the boy had ever endured.
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Dumbledore paced fretfully in his office for weeks after the discovered disappearance of Bartemius Crouch Senior. He was certain that it was related to all the other mysterious activities since Harry Potter started attending Hogwarts. Lord Blackmoore had gotten rather close to the elder Crouch before his severing ties with Lucius Malfoy. Could this new twist be the man covering the last remaining tracks of that business?
It just made so little sense, as Crouch had already been ill and removed from even speaking with other wizards by the point that he vanished, unless that had been the evil man's plan all along, but why? Crouch had clearly not had any reasons to go against Blackmoore, even if they had concluded any sort of operations together.
Even the fact that these last few weeks Harry had been laying low, doing nothing observable that was out of the ordinary, aside from a few unexplainable cases. Foremost was the sudden appearance of so many injuries on nearly all the Gryffindor fourth years after the last Hogsmeade weekend of the term, but when he casually mentioned this to Severus or Poppy, neither had noticed nor believed that anything was wrong with the students.
The strategic plotting of Blackmoore combined with the near randomness of Harry's chaos were really driving Albus mad with worry for how he was to contain the damage when he had to confront the pair. Was there even a way for him to spare the wizarding world from some sort of repercussions when he finally had to end this charade run by these two people?
Alastor had clearly shown that he was unable to be of assistance in these matters, and Albus had merely assented to have the man place the Triwizard cup into the maze for the Third Task. At least his powers of perception and spell casting strength could be trusted to protect the remainder of the tournament, and pave the way for Albus to make his move on both Blackmoore and Harry.
There would be little need for him to do much at first, with the dangers of the Tournament sure to be enough this time around to drive the boy into showing his darker skills. Albus planned to be near Blackmoore when this happened, so that he could not only gage the man's reaction, but set of a reason to go off alone with the man so that he could at last put his fears to rest, and confront the man once and for all.
Meanwhile, Severus would keep a close eye on Harry while the boy was in the maze, as a safety net of sorts for catching any misdoings that the boy may attempt to win, as well as prevent any harm from coming to the other two champions if they get involved when Severus moved to apprehend Harry in the act.
Alastor and the other professors would distract the Ministry until this was all over, whereupon Albus could at last show to the world that he was correct, and that the darkness that was plaguing their world was at last averted. The only problem was the remnant of Voldemort and his followers, and without Harry Albus was not positive on how they would fulfill the prophecy and defeat the man once and for all, but if needs be there was another that met the requirements of the original prophecy.
If Albus did what he ought to have in the first place with Harry, and take Neville Longbottom under his wing, he could directly train the boy into a force of good that would counter Voldemort when the man finally succeeded in restoring himself to a physical form.
It was a bad business all around, but for the sake of the wizarding world, Albus would see it done. And perhaps when it was all over, he could finally silence the nagging voice of Gellert Grindlewald in his head that taunted him so mercilessly.
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Colin was growing ever more excited as the Third Task grew closer. Harry had done so amazingly, that it was obvious that he was going to win the entire Tournament, but even more than that was that the boy was able and willing, to take precious time away from training for the tasks to be with Colin of all people.
Dennis was as much of a nightmare as Colin had expected, the little nuisance immediately getting sucked into the group that surrounded Ron Weasley, and even more so the brat tried to rip Colin away from Harry, threatening him that he would tell their father that Colin was hanging out with bad people, which could threaten Colin's attendance at Hogwarts altogether.
That was unacceptable, and Colin had immediately turned to Harry for an answer, which was why he was meeting him now. Turning as the dormitory door opened, Colin smiled as Harry strode in, concern on the older boy's face as he intuitively sensed Colin's plight. That was one of the boy's skills that Colin had picked up on very quickly, and he appreciated it immensely.
"What's wrong Colin?" Harry said, approaching Colin and sitting on a bed across from him in the otherwise deserted dormitory.
The boy listened patiently as Colin fumbled his way through the story, struggling to control his emotions as he related the information about his rotten brother. Finally, when he had finished, Harry was quiet for several moments longer, even standing and pacing as he arranged his thoughts. Colin delighted himself in watching the magic that swirled about his hero as the boy walked, dancing around him like a cloak of energy.
"Well, there are very few possibilities that I could tell you that would fix the problem for good," Harry answered slowly, fishing a vial of some teal potion from his robes, "As nearly anything you do would either lead to your brother ruining your life, or his continued threat hanging over you... Who's to say what his next demand would be? Currently the boy has total control over your future because of the rotten circumstances that you are placed in..."
Colin sniffed loudly, struggling not to cry in frustration, "sometimes I wish Dennis was dead, and then everything would be better..." he said absently.
"Indeed so..." Harry asked, turning slowly to face Colin, who looked up in confusion.
The boy lifted the potion vial, presenting it to Colin, "Drink this, it'll calm you down, and I'll explain my plan to you..."
Colin obeyed, sinking into a blissful state of relaxation as Harry spoke. "I had been thinking a long time how your brother stood in your way Colin," he started slowly, "I knew that eventually something like this would happen, and there is but one solution, but we'd have to move very carefully to make the event turn to our advantage."
"I... what do you mean...?" Colin said, straining to focus, the potion was making it hard for him to pay perfect attention to his hero's voice.
"Colin, I need to know if you trust me implicitly..." Harry asked.
"Of course I trust you Harry, you're the greatest wizard ever..." Colin replied instantly, barely even registering the full truth of his words spilling out of his mouth.
"Good..." Harry replied slowly, his eyes shining in the semi-darkness of the dorm room. "You will need to act quickly, and eliminate your brother before he can make good on a single one of his threats, here..." Harry held out his arm, and Colin reached forward, blindly feeling something cool and scaly climb up his arm, "take this to your brother, and make sure that no one is around before doing exactly as I say..."
Colin's eyes drooped, but he kept his head nodding to tell his hero that despite his sudden tiredness, he was intently listening. The plan was good, and he could find no reason not to do exactly as Harry suggested. It would solve everything.
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Zychre crooned as his Veneficus told the little boy to bring him to his first victim. To finally be used as a familiar of his power and station should was a pure delight, and Zychre held very still to not break the spell that his human was placing on the younger male, enchanting him to barely remember anything of what he was instructed, but to blindly obey as he departed.
The boy was rather warm; more so than Veneficus, but Zychre didn't let the comfort of traveling under the small boy's heavy robe distract him from what he was sent to do.
Poking his head out of the sleeve of the boy's robe, the cobra watched as they ambled along unnoticed by the larger students around them, seeking out the smaller mousy boy that smelled quite similar to Veneficus' slave. The little one was surrounded by several other humans, all wearing red and gold trimmed robes, and they turned as the slave approached.
"Hello Colin..." the little victim said slowly, eying his relative cautiously, "You made up your mind yet where your loyalties lie?"
The slave's voice was subtly muted from when he was speaking with Zychre's Veneficus, but it was enough to appear normal as the slave asked for a few moments alone with the boy. It took only a few moments for the two related boys to be alone, and Zychre's victim stood irritably as he waited for whatever human nonsense that he expected out of the slave.
Zychre didn't make the boy wait long, and he didn't even have time to scream as the serpent lunged out of the slave's robe and attacked, biting deeply along the boy's arm and neck. The wicked venom in Zychre's system would take mere moments to work, and quickly the snake wrapped himself back in the slave's clothing, contentedly waiting to be returned to his Veneficus' side.
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Bellatrix knew of the dangers of her departing from the manor, but she was beginning to go slightly stir crazy. She was a clear and definite 'hands-on' type of learner, and therefore while there was plenty for her to study and research of her Lord's new technological advantages, but rote knowledge never held her interest for long.
Even now, as she walked through the underground hangar, studying the sleek and powerfully crafted Infiltrator, wondering how such a marvel had been discovered by the Dark Lord without it becoming more public of knowledge.
"Admiring the finest craft in our fleet, dear Bella?" said a voice from behind her, and Bellatrix turned to face her Lord, smiling widely.
"My Lord, yes I was just trying to get more of a hands-on feel for the different ships." She explained, abashed that the Dark Lord had found her fidgeting over her imprisonment.
Lord Voldemort walked forward, running a hand along the sleek metal of the ship, keeping his eyes on Bellatrix. "Perhaps you have been cooped up here for too long," he said wisely, gesturing and activating the boarding ramp of the infiltrator.
Happily Bellatrix agreed, following the Dark Lord on board the ship, and strapped herself into the copilot's seat as Voldemort initiated the ship's launch sequences. As the vessel rumbled to life, Bellatrix listened to the symphony of sounds and lights as the sensors ran through their processes, and the roof above the hanger withdrew to reveal the sky above.
The ship soared through the air, shimmering slightly as it vanished from sight of the muggles below. As they left the atmosphere of the earth, Bellatrix barely concealed her delight at the endlessness of the space beyond. The Blacks, and indeed all the pureblood families of the wizarding world had a strong connection to the stars, but Bellatrix doubted that any had the opportunity to see them in the way that Bellatrix did now.
"Magnificent, aren't they…" the Dark Lord commented as he piloted the ship, steering them into a wide orbit around a far planet from the earth. "The stars are endless, much as I wish to see our people become…"
Bellatrix felt herself relax into her seat at her Lord's words. The man had always had a powerful presence whenever he was speaking, and when he made mention of his plans for the wizarding world it always spoke straight to her heart.
"Bellatrix," the Dark Lord said, snapping her out of her revelry.
"What is it my Lord?" she responded, concerned at the strange, almost foreign look of pensive remorse.
"Many things have occurred during the time I took on Harry Potter as my own ward and apprentice. There are larger and more pressing matters than merely the Wizarding World; a greater foe that would stop our plans than just the Aurors or the Ministry, or even the Muggles. I can foresee that Potter will be the guiding force after I am gone…"
"My Lord, say that it isn't so!" Bellatrix demanded, shocked that her Lord who had always indicated that he would never die, couldn't possibly be contemplating a legacy that would never be necessary.
Smirking, he turned to face her, "My dear, ignorant Bella, you have much to learn. Prophecy was a force that I myself could not fight against, and Potter was foretold to be my downfall. Regardless, I've modified what I could, that despite the high likelihood of my own defeat, my purpose, ushering our people to a place far away from muggles and defeating our real enemies out in the wide expanse of the Galaxy will continue unhindered, through Potter's own hand."
Bellatrix couldn't believe her ears. Lord Voldemort had always stood for defying the prophecy, but now he was meekly permitting it to ruin his life. "Bellatrix," he continued, which interrupted her thoughts once again, "I need you to watch over Harry when, and indeed if I am gone, he will need guidance as he plots out our destiny among the stars, and you will be an excellent mentor to him in magical methods that may be lost to us in the revolution of this technological age."
"My Lord, I…" she started, but the Dark Lord cut her off.
"There's none other that I trust with this important of a task…" he said, and her resolve buckled. If the Dark Lord admitted that he trusted her, then she was more than willing to do as he commanded.
"As you wish my Lord." She said humble, bowing her head to his wishes.
"Now that this unpleasantness is finished," Lord Voldemort continued, turning back to the controls, "How'd you like a little trial run in piloting the ship yourself Bella?"
There was nothing better that the Dark Witch would like, to be able to soar through the stars with her Lord, thinking of the future of the Pureblood families and their people as a whole out there in some distant star system, able to etch out a life all their own, without fear of the Muggles or any other.
It was a glorious time to be alive, and Bellatrix couldn't be more grateful for her Lord or his trust and concern. After commenting on her skill at the controls of the ship for her first flight, the Dark Lord gave her full access to fly the craft at her whim, so long as she made absolutely certain that none discovered the ship during her take off or landings.
It was a privilege that she expected to take full advantage of.
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The planet Khomm was by far the most infuriatingly boring world that Zhar had ever set foot upon. Even the sandy stretches of Korriban had more life in them than this cookie-cutter engineered place.
Upon setting down in the spaceport, the near wrongness in the air was something that he could not ignore, unaided by the fact that every khommite he saw were virtually identical, down to the smallest detail. From the small and nearly unnecessary research on the world that Zhar had pulled from the Holonet, the populace of a few decades ago had universally agreed that they were genetically perfect, and chose to bioengineer their planet to remain completely static for the rest of time.
How depressingly stupid that sounded to any sane outsider, but here it was fact, and the living proof was staring Zhar in the face as he quickly walked down the perfectly gridded out streets, ambling his way toward the main facilities of the world, the Khomm Central Population Planning Center, more basically know as the cloning vat of the world.
Darth Veneficus' orders were extremely specific, almost down to a shopping list of what was needed to be copied and stolen from the facility, but exactly how Zhar was to accomplish this without alerting the reclusive cloning scientists, he was left to his own devises to figure out.
Stealth, while probably the most desired option, was seemingly impossible, with every citizen of the world looking so drastically alike that Zhar, as well as the extremely few other off-worlders, looked grossly out of place.
However, it did seem that these people, whether through years of complacency with the status quo that they themselves had created, or some other inherent flaw, had forsaken all forms of weapons, leaving themselves quite unprotected should Zhar choose to just take the aggressive and head on approach. Not that he wished that level of attention dealt to his presence on this world, as Khomm was a close ally of the Republic, and the Jedi were sure to be notified in he so much as activated his lightsaber in view of a single being here.
Entering the main part of the facility, Zhar was greeted by the yellow eyed receptionist, but he ignored the flat monotone introduction of itself, especially when the gender ambiguous creature stated that she was the thirty-second clone of her generation, like that was something to be proud of.
"I need direction to the main cloning facility…" Zhar attempted cautiously, wondering if these people still retained any sort of security measures whatsoever for their secrets. When the Khommite refused, apologizing and stating the facilities policy, Zhar didn't hesitate to reach into her mind.
Generations of cloning did nothing to help the metal defenses of an individual, and Zhar quickly found the location he desired. Thanking her for her help, he started down a side corridor, where a refresher was located according to the sign on the wall. Once he was out of sight of the front desk, Zhar glanced about, and finding nothing in the way of surveillance, he stealthily made his way around to the far side of the ground floor, where lifts were located to access the rest of the facility.
Dodging the lab coated Khommite scientists inside the facility was far easier than the hordes of beings that dwelled outside the labs, and Zhar quickly arrived at the lifts, slipping into one that was empty and punching the button for the lowest levels. The ride was slow, and every time the lift stopped he held his breath, subtly pushing away the minds of those who wanted access to this lift with the Force.
After the agonizingly long ride down to the lowest sub levels, Zhar peered out to the dimly lit corridors, shockingly different from the rest of the facility, and indeed the rest of the planet. As he closed in on the main target he had been tasked with, the primary cloning vats, Zhar paused. Something felt off. Soundlessly drawing his saber hilt, Zhar cautiously stalked to the final door barring the way to his goal.
Reaching out to sense what awaited him before entering, Zhar was surprised to find Force sensitive individuals within, along with a few of the Khommites, it was mildly interesting for him to note that even in the Force the people of this world were dull and uninteresting.
Hold his weapon in a defensive position, Zhar slid the door open. Two figured were there, along with one Khommite scientist. The larger of the two off-worlders was threatening the scientist, holding the bland creature off the ground. "Where is he?" the man demanded, and Zhar paused in recognition of the voice's owner.
Ferrors Oduro, the Miraluka Jedi Shadow and long rival of Zhar's was here, along with one of his companions. The last time Zhar had seen or heard of them was during the cave-in on Tiss'sharl, when he had thought that he had killed the irritating man and all his fellows.
"Ferros…" said the woman at the Miraluka's side, glancing toward Zhar and the door. Seeing that he was discovered, and wondering how the pair were so easily disguising their Force auras, Zhar threw the door open the rest of the way and entered, smirking at the rage that flared in Oduro's eyes.
"Looking for me?" Zhar asked innocently, even as the pair of Jedi shifted in annoyance. Something was definitely off about the pair, and Zhar could sense the Dark Side in them both.
"Zhar… I know that you'd come to this place…" Ferros said snidely, drawing and igniting his double bladed saber. The emerald blades flared slightly with the anger in the Force that wafted off the Miraluka.
Ora Pasdak, Ferros' ever present companion all the back from their days in the Temple, followed suit, but her aura was tainted by the presence of fear, both of Zhar and even a larger part for fear of Ferros himself.
Grinning to himself, Zhar ignited his orange blade, beckoning for the pair of them to attack. They were driven by rage and fear, ruled by the Dark Side instead of fueled by it. Zhar held the upper hand in this contest, even if the pair of Jedi refused to acknowledge it.