Chapter One
Callings
"No, your Majesty, we were unable to learn the identity of the Operative at this time," the Supreme Prophet reported to the Emperor. Watching from the shadows of the newly christened throne room in Coruscant Imperial Palace, which once housed the twelve members of the Jedi Council, Darth Diábolis observed the proceedings of the two leading members of the Empire speaking to each other.
Lord Veneficus was tired, not in the physical sense as his youth and vigor had never diminished in the near half century of his reign as Sith Emperor, but was thoroughly irritated with the constant interruptions of his minions and other leaders with such petty nuisances as a rebellion within his empire, or unknown foes stirring up his people to fight against him. But for the sake of the Supreme Prophet, Veneficus at least made the attempt to look interested in the goings on outside of the center of Force power that was now converted to his personal dwelling.
"I see," the Emperor stated, one hand pulling at the short beard that had grown in the years between his ascendancy and this day, which gave the otherwise youthful appearing Sith Lord a touch of maturity, and while most of the Empire had yet to see their glorious ruler in nigh two decades, he had kept himself quite well for the age that Diábolis guessed that the man had attained in this time.
The rumor that the apprentice had learned, in the dying breath of one of the Emperor's old allies, Drakis Malfay, also known then as Lord Anguis, speaking of some sort of secret that the Emperor had used to conquer death and age, seemed to be proving most true.
Unfortunately, outside of his missions that sent him into the fringe-most parts of the Galaxy, or anywhere outside of the Imperial Palace, Diábolis had lacked any sort of opportunity to actually seek for whatever device or technique that the Emperor made use of to retain his youth for so long.
Even while he was here at the palace, he was conscripted to aid the Emperor, either in training his guards, from the powerful remnants of the old Arcanamach to the new set of Force sensitives that were recruited specifically to watched the outermost areas of the former Temple of the Jedi, or else he was assisting his master in delving ever deeper into the nature of the Force.
Rarely was the Sith Master out of the room deep in the bowels of the Temple, accompanied only by the massive device known as the Great Holocron, seeking wisdom and knowledge that even the Jedi Masters of ages past never knew or understood, all the while remaining in the hidden nexus of Dark Side energy that lay just beneath the once Jedi edifice.
"Yes, your Majesty," Feyd said again, snapping Diábolis' attention back to the present. The Emperor had clearly given the Dark Council more authority in the pursuit of his enemies, more likely in the attempt to make them leave him alone, and therefore grant him more time to his own devices, which seemed to be the driving focus of the Dark Lord of the Sith in recent days.
It was a concept that was most infuriating to the Devaronian. If he was heir to the Dark Side and all its knowledge and power, how was he supposed to have a chance to ascend to the title of Sith Master when the Emperor was already victorious in their grand design, and had demolished the moral of all their foes?
It was almost as though his master desired to abandon the Rule of Two, and yet at the same time house all the collected knowledge about the Force within himself, and not establish a true Sith Empire, like those that had come before. Naturally, Diábolis had not as of yet made the attempt to question his master about such matters, nor did he personally want to hear the answers that he might receive.
The projection back to Dromund Kaas ceased, and the Emperor turned to gaze directly at his apprentice, the lamp-yellow eyes of the Sith Lord seeming to bore into the Devaronian, seeking his secret thoughts and wishes for more power. "The meddlesome fools know not what I seek to accomplish here," the Dark Side Master grumbled, starting to retrace his steps back down to his usual lair, "they care only for the outward façade of the Empire, and the trappings of power that others can see and be swayed by. But not so with us, my apprentice," he said, pausing to place a hand on the wall, almost as though steadying himself.
Such an act was normally unusual for the Emperor, but over the last half decade Diábolis was noticing many strange behaviors about his Master that were slowly becoming more commonplace, as though he was aging in all ways but physically.
After a moment Veneficus resumed his steps toward the lifts, "We seek the dark truths about the nature of the Force, and the glory that it will bring for all time should we unlock them. The Great Holocron is the key, and I shall find the answers I seek…"
It was a theme to the various half-conversations that Diábolis had had with his master as of late. The human Sith Lord was growing more and more obsessed with the massive Jedi Holocron, and delving deeply into its lore and history, more or less neglecting anything outside of the walls of the Imperial Palace.
"You said you had a task for me, my Master," Diábolis prompted, knowing that the Sith Lord might indeed have put the thought from his mind in the distraction that was the communication from Dromund Kaas.
"Yes," the Sith Lord breathed, looking up toward the ceiling as though seeing through it into space and time beyond. "I can sense something moving in the outlying parts of the Galaxy, a threat to us and this place," he turned slowly to look back at Diábolis, hood obscuring much of his face as he spoke, "you must go to the planet Ilum, where the Jedi once sought their Lightsaber crystals, and find what I have foreseen. Be prepared to bring a swift death to those who would threaten my rule, and my quest…"
The Sith Lord trailed off, turning back and speaking softly to himself, as though to a far closer person, and wandered away, leaving Diábolis on his own. If not for the many years that he had seen his Master sliding down this path, Diábolis would have found such behavior most unnerving and strange, but the man far older than he appeared had changed from the vibrant and strong-willed leader he had been.
Did Diábolis think he stood a chance against the man in open combat? Not even likely, as with all the skills and powers that Veneficus had amassed in the time locked away here, he would still be a great force to be reckoned with in any duel, and the confrontation that Diábolis sought with the Sith Master was not ready to be fully commenced. There was a great deal of work that had to be laid in foundation before he was ready to commit to slaying his master and usurping his throne.
Turning back, and ascending to the only remaining hangar that was not sealed or used solely for the guards of the Palace, Diábolis took to his personal ship, the newly styled shuttle that sped up quickly to a waiting cruiser. The Dauntless had never been replaced, and as the Emperor now had the powerful Terrasque guarding Coruscant permanently, Diábolis had been forced to use another, smaller craft than he was used to for his personal flagship.
It was certainly a step down in the eyes of the Empire, but the need for such massive weapons of war had not come about in the two decades of peace that the Empire had won, so no move toward supplying such vessels, which took great effort and time to construct, had been made.
Even the Terrasque had taken nearly all the effort of countless engineers and slaves from the time before Diábolis had been found by the far younger Sith Emperor up until just before its deployment at the end of the war, a monumental effort of foresight on the part of the Emperor, but one that had greatly paid off.
Such was the case, Diábolis hoped, with the visions that the man had had regarding the icy planet that was his apprentice's destination. If a threat remaining to the Sith that even concerned the imposing and reclusive Emperor, then it was something that actually might be of diversion to Diábolis, who had yet to find a worthy opponent since he slew the last Chancellor of the Republic, Lord Anguis.
Settling into his personal chambers on his current ship, Diábolis drew the power of the Dark Side around him like a cloak, trying to dip into the future himself and see what awaited him on the icy planet of Force crystal caves.
He was nowhere near the level of his master in the techniques of seeing the future, but it was sometimes a useful exercise in planning his strategy when approaching a new mission, or even a place he had never before set foot.
He saw the icy tundra of the planet, and a multitude of caves that called to him, the force almost reaching out in agony to him, or any Force user, to come and lend their aid. A strange thing to say the least, as it was not often that the natural Living Force called to a wielder of the Dark Side in such a manner. Was it desperation perhaps on the part of the Force, or evidence of something more sinister at work?
Caution would need to be used, to say the very least about the situation. Diábolis wondered just what was awaiting him on the frozen planet to cause such a disturbance in the Force, so out of place and strange in their current Galactic state.
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Jedi Master Yoda walked through the corridors of Sanctuary base on the planet Hoth, heading from the more military and factory sections of the massive Mage-born created structure toward the facilities that had been devoted to the Jedi Exiles for the reforming of their Order.
Jedi Lord Berethon, the last Master from the Jedi Council that had survived the assault of the Sith two decades prior had summoned him, stating that there had been a powerful disturbance in the Force, and seeking to consult with the other remaining Jedi Masters.
So few of them had truly survived, only seven masters out of hundreds before the war began, and when Yoda arrived, he saw the serious looks that the others were wearing, as they had all indeed sensed the particular shift in the Force. "Master Yoda, thank you for coming," Lord Berethon said, his repulsor chair turning slightly for the crippled human to face him.
"Important it was, so come quickly I did," Yoda responded, walking over and taking a seat in the small circle of seven that remaining of the leadership of their Order.
"I shall make the matter quick then, as I know you all have important things to return to," Lord Berethon stated, "The Force screamed out in pain some short time ago, you all felt it I am sure…"
"Yes, felt it, I did," Yoda affirmed, as did the others.
"Like something was tearing part of my soul from my body," Master Quist said, the older human female clutching her heart.
"I have sensed that this is no act of the Sith Emperor or his minions," Lord Berethon stated, closing his eyes as to experiencing the pain of the disturbance once more.
"How couldn't it be the Sith?" Master Obo Fequell asked, four of the Besalisk's eight arms folded in her lap, while the others held a multitude of datapads, whereupon the Jedi Master was recording her own remembered knowledge, much of which had been lost in the temple two decades ago.
While Yoda himself was aware of the secret copy of the archives that the previous Grand Master of the Order, Fae Coven, had secreted away on some remote planet, the identity of which his own Padawan alone knew, he had not yet made mention of it to his fellows, sensing that the secret of that information might yet still be needed to remain hidden.
"I do not know," Lord Berethon stated, "But I have sent out Lord Teepo and some of his Paladins to investigate the Planet Ilum, from where the disturbance originated, but I have yet to hear from them. Master Yoda, if you are willing, I would wish to send you to find them and discover the source of this disturbance in the Force. If there is some other faction at work here, we must know for the safety of our Order."
"Understand I do, go I will…" Yoda replied, knowing that the Jedi Lord wouldn't ask this lightly of anyone in these troubled times. "My Padawan alone I will take with me. As a team we are, and stronger together than apart we shall be."
"Very well Master Yoda," Master Sisho Nefamm, the Iktotchi female that Ist had been closely working with as of late to help coordinate the efforts of the rebellion, "I will make sure that Ist is prepared and sent to your side when you are ready to depart."
"May the Force be with you, Master Yoda," Lord Berethon stated, calling an end to their short meeting.
"May it be with us all," Sullustan Master Xic Freirty added, emphasizing the dire predicament that they had been in the past twenty or so years. Yoda understood the Jedi Master's pessimism, as while they had trained and obtain many students through the help of the rebellion, only a scant hundred or less Jedi remained out of the tens of thousands that had been part of their Order not terribly long ago.
Their Knights also had the trouble of not being able to leave the system, from a combination of a shortage of ships to use, as well as the fear that the Emperor would sense them outside of the protective spells of the Mage-Born that were sheltering them. Lord Berethon agreed with them all that this shouldn't be the case, that the Jedi should not fear the Sith and still go about their purpose to protect the Galaxy, but there were just too few of them left to risk the extinction of their Order.
For Yoda and Ist to go even now to locate the Teepo Paladins on Ilum was a great endeavor, and Master Yoda expected many of the newly knighted Jedi to beg to join them in the hunt, but they couldn't allow it, as they were not prepared enough for what may await them outside of the system.
Yoda, through the various leaders of the Resistance against the Sith Empire, knew for a fact that there was an entire fleet of Inquisitors that were specifically hunting every souse of the Rebellion, and if they learned that the Jedi were indeed alive and operating again, they would redouble their efforts to seek them out and destroy them.
This quest was risky enough without involving a larger group of inexperienced knights that had been mere children when the war ended two decades ago, and Yoda agreed whole heartedly with Lord Berethon that the time of the Jedi was not now.
As much as they disliked it, the Sith were in power in the Galaxy, and the Jedi were not strong enough yet to challenge them, even in the slightest. Despite the fact that the Emperor seemed to be perfectly content disappearing from the public eye, hiding in the now defiled Jedi Temple and doing Force-knew-what, it wasn't a worthy risk to arouse his ire and attention by flooding the Galaxy with the Light once more at this time.
Having no personal items aside from his lightsaber and a few datapads that would prove useful for the trip and the training of his Padawan, Yoda made his way back toward the resistance base portion of the massive underground facility, ready to meet with Commander Granger, who would more than likely be supplying him and his Padawan with the ship that would carry them to Ilum.
"Master Yoda, I had been expecting you," the former Director of Magi-tech said as she answered the door of her personal chambers. Leading the goblin in, the human female gestured with her wand and conjured a pair of chairs for them, along with summoning a droid butler and bodyguard to wait upon them.
"A ship, my Padawan and I require," Yoda said, seeing no reason to be boggled down with pleasantries.
"I know," she replied, "Lord Berethon sent a message ahead of your mission, and I approve whole-heartedly, the more Jedi we recover from the Galaxy, the closer we could be to returning the fight to Veneficus and his Empire." Her eyes grew cold at the thought of the madman that had ripped the Galaxy away from the Republic.
Pulling a small datapad from the nearby shelf, Granger activated the device, which showed a holoprojection of a sleek ship. "This is the new model that I have recently developed. The prototype is almost finished, only lacking the weapon systems, but I suppose that would only take a short time to put in to make the ship manageable for your mission."
"Yes, little we will need, but the ability to defend ourselves, crucial it will be," Yoda replied. There was a time that Jedi wouldn't have needed ships with weapons on them, but that was long ago.
"Give me a few hours, and you can leave whenever you're ready," Commander Granger said, rising and deactivating the datapad.
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Lord Fury grunted in anger as he dodged again. The lumbering giant of an opponent roared as its club smashed into the ground with a sickening thud. The hulking beast, as well as its four companions, each mutated over countless experiments of the Dark Side into fanatical beasts that lived and breathed war and destruction.
Ever since the destruction of the Jedi and the Republic, Fury had thrown himself diligently into skirmish after battle for the final defeat of the remaining hold outs of their glorious Empire, but the life of combat seemed to have been removed from the fight. Fury kept having his mind drawn back to the words of the Jedi that he had failed to kill, who had so thoroughly defeated him, the lead Marauder of the Empire, in battle.
It had been humiliating, destructive, and it enraged him. And since that day he had done whatever he could to improve and develop his skills in battle, striving to be the very best of all Darksiders.
That was why he was here, fighting against five different augmented Dark Side trolls. The beasts sported the same traditional war clubs that they had used prior to their modification, but the hands that grasped them were hardened, and sported massive claws infected with bacteria that would cause paralysis and death within minutes of even the smallest cut.
The dire straits that he placed himself in were unfortunately not the cause of his turmoil, it was that it simply wasn't enough. The danger used to be a thrill for him, but now it was simply an inconvenience. Dancing around the lumbering giants was easy enough, but he grew quickly bored at the lack of true challenge, and that made his angry.
Sheathing one of his twin saber hilts, Fury took the other in a strong, two-handed grip and slashed viciously, digging the blade deeply into the upraised arm of one of the trolls. Even as the beast screamed in pain and the saber slowed to a halt on the powerfully enchanted hide, from both its natural resistances to energy as well as the deep corruption by the Force itself. Screaming in rage in return, Fury heaved all his leverage into the blade, forcing it through the limb in several jagged pushes, amputating the arm of the troll and continuing through to its now unprotected torso.
The beast tried to flee, or swat him with the spiked club, but the Marauder switched to the powerful Djem-So style, and caught the club, the hardened material unable to stand against the might of his weapon, and severing it like butter.
Clutching its stump, the troll fell to the ground, even as it allies tried to surround it, and protect their own from the vengeful Dark Adept. "Now we have a battle," he said, feeling the small stirring of the Dark Side as his anger and hate was tempted to life once again. The trolls bellowed their war cries, charging forward in retaliation, and Fury leapt into the air, turning once to deliver a powerful Ataru strike to the head of one of the trolls, the blade leaving a deep scorch mark on the beast, but failing to have the leverage to truly lodge into the creature that Djem-So produced.
Realizing the inferiority of the acrobatic style for these animals, Fury reigned himself in, restraining his enjoyment of the fight, and centered himself upon his bladework, staying true to the single style that had the power to actually damage these powerful beasts.
Charging forward to duck under a falling club and slashing claws, Fury stabbed hard, throwing all his weight, added to the Force, behind the blade and driving the point in as far as he could through the troll's empowered skin, feeling the resistance as the natural magic of the beast worked hard to prevent any sort of injury from taking place under its hide.
The creatures were strong, and even more so due to the Sith Alchemy that had modified them, which led the Marauder to wonder if they were created by the dark process in the first place. The Emperor had never disclosed such information, and while Fury would have been interested, he doubted that such knowledge would be forthcoming.
Another troll felled, Fury dodged back to avoid the one missing an arm as it flail about wildly, and somersaulted over the swinging club of a third. The beast staggered, overbalancing in its powerful attack, and Fury struck while its back turned to him. Powerful two-handed slashes scored deep cuts along its back, digging deeper and deeper even as the heightened regenerative powers of the beast tried to knit its flesh back together.
The beast tried to turn back, but Fury plunged his saber deep into its leg, pinning it to the ground, and released the hilt, leaving the blade buried in the troll as he rushed the thing's head. Knocking away the clawed arms with the Force, he grabbed either side of the lumpy head, and focused all the power of the Dark Side into a massive pulse of power. Roaring in rage, Fury pulled, ripping the head clean from the shoulders with his bare hand and prosthetic.
The one-armed troll reeled back in shock, while the final troll, who had done little to engage him thus far, remained motionless. Still holding the fallen Troll's head in his mechanical hand, Fury summoned back his saber, stalking toward the armless troll, when the beast's remaining arm flew to its throat.
In surprise, Fury turned toward the last troll, sensing the immense power of the Force within the typically mindless beast. The hulking creature was screwing its face together tightly, massive clawed fist clenched as it strangled the life out of its fellow.
Only when it fell dead did Fury act, turning away from the remaining troll, and wondering how it was possible that the experiments activated some sensitivity within the animal to the Force. The door ahead of him opened, revealing a squad of Imperial troopers, along with a self-important looking officer, carrying a data disk.
"This has come for you, my Lord, from the Palace," she said, handing him the disk and looking around, sniffing at the scent of charred flesh and death. Upon looking at the final troll, which was standing well away from the grey armored figured; she asked Fury, "Do you want that one disposed of, my Lord?"
"No," Fury replied, looking with interest at his new orders. Apparently there was a system wide protest of sorts going on nearer to the Galactic Core, tied in with potential rebel activity in the sector, and with so many of their trusted out on other missions, the Black Fist was Empire. It was not a name that Fury himself reveled in, so focused as he was upon improving himself to overcome his failures at the siege of the Jedi Temple, but there was a certain ring to it that played nicely on the ears when others recognized who they spoke with.
"My apprentice and I will take the Black Fist and handle this pitiful little resistance…" he said flatly, knowing that through the Force the Troll would be able to sense most of his intent, and that would aid greatly where the lack of common language failed them.
Fury had never taken an apprentice of his own before, only assisting partially in the training of his warriors of the Black Fist, but more or less allowing them to govern their own regiments and styles, but this could prove to be the better distraction, he thought, even as the Imperial soldiers departed. Teach this beast all that he knew, and watch it become the greatest of all warriors in the Empire, perhaps surpassing him as the leader of Marauders throughout the Galaxy. The battle he sensed could flow between them would be that of legends.
Turning to face the troll, who looked at a loss for all the sensations of the Force around it, Fury smiled grimly, "We have work to do…"
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Severus Snape, once more acting in his true calling of Potions Master for the Rebellion, sat overlooking the dozens of cauldrons that were in various stages of production, even as the many hands and assistants that he had conscripted to overfill their soldier's needs followed his every instruction.
He had never enjoyed teaching, but now he thought that that might have had more to do with the fact that he had been teaching children rather than willing adults, and the other pressures that he had been under during his time so long ago at Hogwarts. Having just recently turned the ripe old age of eighty-two, he was not the young man he used to be, and now he greatly appreciated all the helping hands that sought to help him where they could.
True, he had to do much of the preparation himself, the magic of a mage-born being what made the concoctions into true potions, but simple acts like adding ingredients and stirring could be done by anyone, and many of the Jedi had close enough to magical natures that they could learn the proper procedures. And Jedi children had turned out to be as mature as adults, if not more so, and were simply a delight to instruct in the ways of the simmering cauldron.
In the ample amounts of free time that he had thusly acquired, not needing to personally oversee every little detail of the production, Severus had taken up an ancient calling, and was trying to desperately recreate the ancient arts of Alchemy, knowing that if any calling or situation could use the ample supply of wealth and power that such a device as the Philosophers Stone could provide, it was the Rebellion. They could pay for all the supplies they needed to fight the good fight, and the Elixir of life could keep their warriors safer than any antidote or healing tonic that Severus already knew.
Naturally, the going was slow and downright frustrating, but Severus knew that they depended on some sort of miracle to occur for them to survive in this evil ridden Galaxy. Even as he poured through a datapad, which detailed what knowledge had remained on New Terra before the planet was destroyed by Veneficus, Severus started to think.
The mad Sith Lord had not aged more than slightly in his early years of attacking the Republic, and while Severus had been limited in what times he had seen the man in person, he distinctly remembered thinking how off it had been for the Emperor to be so young in appearance for his age.
Could it be possible that Potter had acquired knowledge of Alchemy and other techniques from their old home planet before departing, just to return and set everything aflame?
Nevertheless it was a lead, albeit there was very little that they could likely do about it, aside from trying to infiltrate Imperial center, or worse the former Jedi Temple where Veneficus was reported to be living day-to-day in.
Try as he might to dissuade himself from coming up with suicidal plans, the knowledge that Veneficus likely had alchemical knowledge, if not a Philosopher's Stone of his own, tied with their own desperate need for such secrets, and Severus quickly found himself patching a personal communication to the unknown Operative that had sprung up deep in Imperial space a decade ago to aid them: Shade.
As per the usual, only the helmeted head and part of the figure's shoulders were visible when the hologram came to life. "Professor Severus Snape," the informant stated, sounding somewhat surprised. Rightly so at the least, as Severus had never made any attempt to contact the unknown being on his own, although he had been present when others had communicated with the mysterious operative.
"Shade, I have some information about the Emperor I wish to recover." Severus stated, getting straight to the point.
"A dangerous game if ever there was one, I'm listening…" the Operative replied.
"Have you or your people ever come across anything such as esoteric tomes or scrolls, things that aren't Force related but just as strange or unusual?" Severus inquired, and the unknown being simply tilted his head for a moment before answering, "It's possible."
"If that is the case," Severus continued, ignoring the barb of an answer that was previously given. "Then you must know where I might find more of these texts, I am searching for something specific that the Rebellion has dire need of."
The Operative paused for a long moment, seeming to type on a consol, "It is possible," he said after a time, "in fact, according to this you might have a limited window to raid some of the Emperor's personal library as it is transported from Dromund Kaas to the Imperial Palace on Coruscant."
"He's had two decades to do that, why is it being shifted only now?" Severus challenged, wondering why such a clear trap was available.
"You underestimate the vast size of the Emperor's collection of stolen knowledge and treasure…" the Operative deadpanned back, and Severus could sense the look of irritation that he was being given behind the mask.
"The issue naturally will be dealing with the Emperor's security," Shade continued, turning to the side and seeming to type out other commands. "There is a sizable vanguard around the shuttle that is transporting his texts and materials for this recent shipment, but hacking into Imperial manifests for the cargo it seems to be all manner of these sorts of texts that you require. If you can supply some of the manpower, I can orchestrate a plan that will get you on board that ship for a time to search for what you desire. It will be extremely dangerous, and we need to slip in and out without drawing too much attention to what was done."
"So it needs to appear as though a failed raid," Severus added, "or the Emperor will grow suspicious."
"And that's the last thing any of us need is for that madman to awaken from his dusty lair." Shade replied, the pair in total agreement.
"I will speak with the commanders, and get you the manpower you need for this strike." Severus said, unsure why he was so willing to agree to this sort of plan on the fly.
"I'll leave you coordinates to pick up ships and weapons for the attack, so that you blend in with the pirates of the surrounding area, and therefore it will not be apparent that the Rebellion was the one to cause this attack." Shade added, several ping beings sent through to the console that Severus was using. How or where the Operative had such access to such equipment, Severus did not know, but it was mightily helpful and yet disturbing at the same time.
"We shall contact you when we rally the needed soldiers," Severus said finally, and Shade gave him a nod of acknowledgement before cutting the communication.
This left Severus with the hardest job of all: convincing Granger, Flitwick and Lord Berethon. It would be difficult, but they needed the rebellion to supply him with soldiers or Jedi for such a daredevil scheme that was sure to be some sort of trap.
With the Charms Master turned field commander out in the Galaxy, he was summoned via holocommunication while Severus presented the plan, his communication with Shade, and the promise of supplies and ships for the strike if they but brought the manpower to use them.
"I know that it seems like a trap," Severus said after he relayed all that had transpired, "but I feel strongly that this is a risk worth taking. If I can but find a single scroll about Alchemy on that shuttle, it would bring us that much closer to a powerful restorative that would rival or exceed even the properties of Bacta and Kolto."
The two Mage-born looked skeptical, but the crippled Jedi Lord rubbed the growing facial hair on his chin, "you're saying that this miracle cure could even restore functionality to severed limbs and other ills?" he asked.
Severus wondered if the Jedi was asking for personal reasons, locked away in his hoverchair all day and night, or if he was being selfless and wanting to know if they could use this cure to aid the ills of the Galaxy, but in either case the answer was the same, "If I find a way to create a Philosopher's Stone, we could easily spread the cure throughout the Galaxy, given enough time and recourses to mass produce the Elixir of Life."
The man looked tempted to give Severus the green light, but Ms. Granger spoke at that moment, "Even if this is all true, how can we trust that Operative? We gather little to no intelligence regarding him or his motives, let alone if he is even a him and not a her. For all we know, it is a deep cover agent of the Empire trying to find us."
All perfectly acceptable arguments, but Severus couldn't shake the feeling he had that this was their one chance for something that might start to turn the tide back in their favor. "I agree, Shade is not fully trustworthy," he said, knowing that cool-headed logical Hermione Granger would respond to nothing short of his truest reasoning, "however, how can we judge what he, or she, will do with trusted information until we give them a chance?"
"But for such a large, and potential damaging circumstance?" she retorted, but Severus was prepared.
"Larger than average stakes for larger than average rewards. Any new information regarding the Emperor could be on that ship, aside from the Alchemical lore that I seek, even if we find nothing to that end, there ought to be something that will aid us there."
"…and if it's a trap?" she countered back.
"We have our fleet waiting just out of range ready to swoop in and rescue us, naturally, and if nothing come of it to show we were betrayed, then there is no loss." Severus threw in, knowing that the younger woman's argument had to be waning under his logical analysis.
"I… but… you see…" Granger started a few times, growing frustrated. She turned to the other two, and the hologram of Commander Flitwick merely shrugged, while Lord Berethon merely looked back at her, waiting for the effective leader of the entire rebellion movement to make her decision.
"Fine, we will give him this one chance, Severus, but only because you vouch for the need to strike at something as important as this, but I supply that I do not approve of such tactic to win your arguments," she said at last, and Severus had the respect for her to at lead nod in appreciation.
"I will prepare then, and send word that we will meet him a the coordinates he supplies and wait for further instruction then," Severus said, turning to leave at the dismissive and very unhappy gesture that the woman threw him. He had already been aware that this would be the case.
Ever since her husband had turned out to be a plant from the Empire, Commander Granger had found it hard to trust anyone, and had grown somewhat colder and more distant because of it, working more on her ships and droids and leaving the true running of the Rebellion to the Jedi Masters, Commander Flitwick, and occasionally Severus himself.
But it was important to Severus that she quickly learn to have hope for the Galaxy again, as her own leadership was just as valuable as any of theirs, if not more so.
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Hermione watch a short time later as Severus and his party of two dozen rebel soldiers departed into outer orbit, hell bent on their mission to recover whatever they could from the supposed convoy of the Emperor's personal library. It had been less than half a day since Master Yoda had also left, taking his Padawan, who had grown into something like unto a younger sister for the Rebel leader, and it pained her to watch the pair of Jedi depart.
"Things seem to be accelerating once again, in both the galaxy and within the Force," Jedi Lord Berethon commented from her side, where the man now sat in his permanent chair. Hermione's heart ached whenever she saw the once quite proud warrior reduced to such a state, but even with the medical knowledge and supplies that they had liberated before the fall of Coruscant, there was no means for them to heal the broken spinal column without possible further injury, and losing the Jedi Lord at such a critical moment was simply out of the question.
Certainly, if the old tales were to be remembered and believed, the Philosopher's Stone and the Elixir of Life could easily restore the Jedi, as well as myriads of others across the Galaxy, but Hermione did not believe that the secret of such a substance would so easily slip from the Emperor's fingers.
The madman who ran the Galaxy was cold, and cruel, and she did not trust that the man hadn't already infiltrated their ranks a dozen times over, trying his best to steal her away for her brilliant mind and creative ideas once again.
That was why she spent every waking hour she could designing every possible weapon and ship she could think of, even if they sorely lacked the materials to build prototypes for her designs, and therefore the datapads with her ideas started to clutter her personal chambers.
"Yes," she eventually agreed with the Jedi Lord, returning to the present, "but I fear that things may start going far too fast for those of us that already saw enough war to last a lifetime. Can we really endure another, and one of our own making at that?"
"Not another war," the Jedi Lord corrected her, shaking his head sadly, "merely the continuation and aftermath of the same war, which will rage on in the hearts of all those who seek freedom from the grasp of the Sith and their dominion."
The finality in the Jedi's voice softened Hermione somewhat. Knowing that there were others who shared her determination to succeed against the vile dictator over their precious Galaxy was soothing in these sorts of times, where Hermione felt as those she was losing control of the situation. Even though she knew that those who fought with her were doing all that they could to help, there were still times she wondered if it was best that she take full charge of the Rebellion and direct them as she saw best for them to proceed? Yet even as she thought it, she wondered how much of that desire the lasting influence of the Emperor in her mind from was so long ago.