Theron was not wholly accustomed to the pomp and circumstance that came with a Senate meeting. Scratch that – Theron had no clue what he was doing. In the eighty years since the triumvirate had been created, the three governments had slowly began to meld and combine certain facets of their leadership. The Senate had long ago become home to Jedi and Imperial representatives that aimed to defend their peoples' best interests in the Galaxy. While the membership of the senate grew quickly, the lavishness had rocketed to new heights from the growth. It quickly became understood that only the most lavish parties and vices could break through the well maintained walls of a Jedi's discipline against the material, and the Imperial Senators... well, they had long been party to extreme wealth and debauchery. No party was as tame as the ones that came before – as the current Chancellor put it, "If you are invited to a party by the senator of Ryloth, there will be effective bribes of ten thousand credits a person. The next day, the party held by the senator of Coruscant will have no less than a hundred thousand in effective bribery." So far, the bubble had yet to reach its limit – and no one was sure what would happen when the burst finally arrived. Many – completely ignored – measures had been passed to prevent the use of public money in these events.
Theron tugged impatiently at the collar of his new dress robes that Horn had ordered personally for him. They were a luxurious white silk with golden accents that reminded Theron vaguely of the mural of Revan he had seen at the museum just a few days earlier – he thought it felt more like a lifetime before. "Do we really have to attend this party? I thought it would just be a debrief, then off to the next Sith investigation. Sithvestigation?"
Ana sighed. She was wearing her Imperial Knight armor, and the blood red and black brought a terrifying edge to the femininity she exhuded in spades. "This is how the Senate does its debriefings. Besides, a party of wild debauchery sounds like something you would like."
"Aurek: I hate these people. Besh: These robes don't have a pocket big enough for the mask to fit in. Cresh: You get to wear your armor," Theron grumbled. "And, you know what, I don't get what's with all the assumptions I'm a wild party animal. More often than not, I have to tear the Blue Panty Bandit over here from his drunken one night stands before he proposes to them."
"You do not call me that!" Rhen snapped. He was wearing deep purple robes that connected seamlessly with the ornate headdress that wrapped around his lekku in spirals that revealed his blue skin.
"By the Force, you're that guy?" Van asked. He was wearing his naval uniform, but they still somehow looked like streetclothes the way they hung from his body. "I think I bumped into you guys at... Wild Monkey Lizard on one of its busier nights!"
"Yeah, drunk Rhen is pretty damn hard to forget," Theron said.
"Hey, I – okay, yeah, I am. But I promise no drinking tonight," the twi'lek admitted.
Theron shook his head and rolled his eyes as the four of them walked up the steps to the senate house. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's what you always say," Theron supplied.
"Kark," Ana laughed to herself. "I'm stuck with three of the biggest idiots in the galaxy..."
"Hey!" Theron said with a grin. He chuckled with Ana until Rhen and Van joined in. The four of them continued laughing until they were halfway up the stairs to the senate house.
"Sithspit, there's a lot of stairs here!" Van said between gasps while the four took a short break.
"It's so the politicians can always be looking down on everyone," Theron explained with a smirk. "That, and no one will bother walking up all these stairs just to ask for help."
"Yep – they're obviously earning their paychecks, huh?" Van jibed. "Just don't tell them I said that – they'd probably make me resign my commision."
"Your secret is safe with us," Rhen replied. He breathed in deeply and stood up straight. "We should finish walking the next eight kilometers."
"No need to exaggerate – it looks more like seven," Theron said with a grin. He half-used his friend's shoulder as a balance to pull himself up. "But I agree – we're already running a bit late."
Theron jogged up a few stairs before looking back at his crew. "You guys just gonna wait there all day, or are you coming with me?"
The others smiled and began to follow Theron up the endless stairs to a party with a level of extravagance few people outside the Senate could ever claim to have experienced.
Darth Nihl, the Dark Lord of the One Sith, Heir to Darth Krayt, the Butcher of Ossus, the slaughterer of an entire line of Skywalkers, and the – unarguably, in his mind – most powerful Force User in the Galaxy, was severely unamused. The Sith had now been twice defeated by a band of children. Needless to say, the fools that fled Ossus had been summarily executed for their weakness. Still, even Nihl had to admit that this... Revan, as he called himself, was an immensely powerful Force user. Nihl had felt that power in the boy, resting, during the first half of their battle. The mask had only unlocked that power.
Nihl knew that the boy had held great power, and he was sure that the mask was not merely an addition, as it would have been for anyone else. The mask's Force aura and that of the boy held an interesting... interplay. Their ebbs and flows were complements – where the boy was weak, the mask crafted a strength, and where the mask's power had flowed away centuries earlier, the boy held the power of a master. His skill and strength were on par with highly trained Jedi and Sith.
Despite that, it was obvious that the boy was self taught. Every slash of his lightsaber was... intriguing. It was so fundamentally different from everything that every fighter was taught, if it did not work so well, Nihl would have been tempted to call the style amateurish or sloppy. Yet the boy's strength in battle claimed that his skill was instead far beyond what many others were capable of. Perhaps the self training he had been forced to create had increased his skill. Or perhaps, once again, the mask and the child held an interesting interplay.
The way that the boy's aura was like the mask seemed to, again, suggest something refreshingly new about the boy. He was neither Jedi or Sith, at least not formally. The boy had great light in him, yes. With work, he would become a great Jedi Master. Of course, his light cast an equally dense shadow within him. There was rage and desire for destruction that made even Nihl take pause.
This boy aided Jedi and Imperial Knights against him, Nihl knew that. But the only thing that held Revan to their cause were the three who traveled with him. Nihl knew that, with a few well placed words and assassinations by his covert operatives, Revan could become the Apprentice that Nihl had sought so long. His capability against Nihl's namesake, the ancient Darth Nihilus, showed further that Nihl should take a special interest in him. If not as a possible Sith Apprentice and heir to the title of Dark Lord, then as a nuisance who could quickly evolve into something much worse – an enemy.
Nihl ran one incredibly tattooed hand across his incredibly tattooed face. "What is wrong, master?" Darth Wyyrlok – the sixth in his line to bear that name – inquired. Nihl looked over at the red skinned humanoid and the lightning already crackling in his fingertips. Wyyrlok's hand was wavering a short distance from his Saber. As Nihl's loremaster, Hand, and Voice, it was his duty to strike Nihl down in honorable combat should Nihl's convictions ever waver. Nihl worried of Wyyrlok's convictions, though. He was loyal and honest, truly, but he would not destroy Nihl if he ever had the chance. "You seem... disturbed."
Lady Kralle, a Zeltron Sith and Nihl's other Hand, turned into the room with a smirk. "Nothing should disturb our master. His power is far beyond yours – he is merely considering the best way to destroy our enemies," she remarked. Nihl considered the Zeltron, dressed more scantily than even the other Sith since Talon, one of Nihl's former peers, then his Hand. Kralle was much more devious than Wyyrlok, devious to the extent that she could not be fully trusted. Still, however, she was more Sith than her counterpart – Nihl knew that, given any opportunity, Kralle would destroy him. Nihl would have given her the honor to kill him when necessary, but she could not be trusted at any point in time. She was more likely to murder Nihl in his sleep than to take the honorable road.
"You are not honest with our master," Wyyrlok retorted. "In fact, I doubt you would care if he was troubled!"
"Oh, you sentimental fool – if you really thought he was wavering, wouldn't it be your duty to kill our master in combat?" Kralle pointed out with a sneer.
"Enough," Nihl interjected with a snarl. "I did not have Wyyrlok's family act in my stead intermittently for the past seven decades just to fall in battle as soon as I awoke from cryogenic sleep. I was considering my options, indeed. But do not attempt to manipulate Wyyrlok into a battle so may use his death for greater honor, Kralle. You may fight him yourself, if that is what you wish."
Kralle's jaw clenched angrily – she knew that she and Wyyrlok were quite evenly matched. There was no guarantee of her victory, so the coward would only wait until she could assure victory or until Wyyrlok eventually lost favor in Nihl's eyes. "Many pardons, Master. Forgive me," the Zeltron said. She said this as sincerely as her lying voice could allow – she had learned long before that Nihl was not foolish enough to fall to her Zeltron empathic abilities.
Nihl waved his hand and dismissed his underlings. The two Sith bowed, the Chagrian and Zeltron each retreating to different corners of the room and into their respective quarters on in the ancient temple-palace of Dromund Kaas.
Nihl returned his thoughts to the boy and his mask. The artifacts of the Old Sith were reawakening across the galaxy. First, the mask of Revan had been discovered – leading directly to Nihl's awakening. Then the mask of Nihilus. Nihl could feel other Force signatures calling him – urging him – from all across the galaxy. Items of such intense Dark Side power that the collection of a mere few would allow for the extermination of the Jedi and the rise of the Sith to superiority once again.
"And that's when I said, she's not my wife!" the Corellian senator burst out laughing at his own joke, his voice high and goofy from all the alcohol he had been drinking.
"Hm. Ha," Ana attempted to laugh politely for the politician's terrible – and disgusting – anecdote. "Yes. She was your mistress, I get it."
"Ha! HA HA HA!" the senator screamed. Then he got quiet and leaned into Ana. "She wasn't half as pretty as you. Let's give it a go"
Ana's laughed. "No. Not going to happen," Ana responded.
"What do you mean!?" The Corellian sneered. He grabbed onto Ana's wrist, and she thought honestly about forcing her lightsaber through the man's head.
Luckily, Theron came to her rescue. "She's flattered, Senator. But you should sober up," he said with a wave of his hand as he placed himself on Ana's left.
"Hm... I'm... I'm going to go," the senator said while his eyes glazed over.
"Apologize," Theron whispered, barely audible over the din of the party. "And go tell the male Senator from Ryloth this story about his wife."
"Y-yes. Sorry. Quite right," the man said. He let go of Ana's wrist and stumbled over to a nearby rotund twi'lek. He boisterously stumbled his way drunkenly through the story until the twi'lek senator's eyes widened in rage and his fist slammed into the Corellian's face.
"Most of my masters – and Rhen's – would say you acted incorrectly, you... 'Turned the Force into a toy,'" Ana said, grinning at Theron. "Not that I'm going to complain at the moment. The black eye the senator will have tomorrow is more than enough to warrant it."
Theron smiled at Ana. "Thanks. I thought so, too." Theron sighed and continued, saying, "I thought it was better than slicing him with lightsaber, after all."
Ana shrugged non-commitally. "Eh – only marginally. One less nuna in the galaxy would have been a definite plus," she explained.
"Well we could still go make some bacon, right?" Theron said with a pat on his lightsaber.
"Well... Nah. I'll be fine," Ana replied. She put her left fist on her hip and grinned widely, making Theron blush.
"Glad to see you two are enjoying yourselves," the dry, enigmatic voice of Master Horn came from behind them. "We have already gathered your friends. The debriefing will take place now."
As Horn's voice allowed for no discussion, Theron and Ana followed the Jedi Master apprehensively. "This sounds like more than just a meeting about the mask," Theron whispered.
"I agree. Maybe we'll learn why the debriefing took place at this party," Ana whispered back.
"It disguises your true function, and allows for the Chancellor, Gann, and myself to be in the same building as you without raising an inordinate amount of suspicion," Horn explained.
"Her hearing is scary good," Theron muttered to himself, drawing a grunt of agreement from Ana.
After a short walk through the senate building hallways, Horn led Theron and Ana to a dark room where the only light illuminating the faces of Rhen, Van, Gann, and the Chancellor was a green holomap of Ossus. "Well, thish more fun than thath party!" Rhen mumbled drunkenly before hiccuping loudly.
"Well, at least we didn't have to pull him off of anyone," Ana suggested. She glanced over at the twi'lek, who was wobbling and singing to himself.
"Erm..." Horn began. She shook her head at Rhen. "We'll deal with that later. For now, the three of you who are not drunk, what happened on Ossus?"
Theron began quickly, eager for the meeting to be over so he could be near Revan's mask again – Nihilus' mask had been transported to a vault by an agent of the triumvirate as soon as the Eagle had touched down. "We got to Ossus and talked to the mayor you guys led us to. He said Master Gat-ro had disappeared days earlier. We went to the temple, found Gat-ro. He died. We found Nihilus' mask and were forced into a mental battle with his fragmented mind. When we escaped with the mask, we saw the mayor with two Sith agents. They ran off, and the mayor admitted to having sent dozens of Jedi and Sith to their death at Nihilus' hands."
"Haven't we already told you all this in our reports?" Van cut in. "What is it you're looking for?"
"How did you defeat Nihilus?" Horn asked the quartet, her eyes never leaving Theron's. "The reports were unclear, and none of them completely corroborated"
"What do you mean?" Theron asked. He looked around at the others, what had they said?
"Yes, what do you mean?" Ana asked.
"Well, you all agree that operative Revan dealt with the Force ghosts that aided you against Nihilus, but none of you remember these ghosts?" Horn asked.
"No. I remember going under and then fighting Nihilus."
"And three of you agree on that point," Gann said. "Revan, however, says the three of you were trapped in prisons, and mentions visions of... creatures."
"I don't remember any of that," Van said earnestly. "I mean... I remember falling asleep then... we saw Nihilus. The fight just happened."
"I – none of you remember?" Theron asked. He looked at Van, then Ana. "What – what? You were both trapped in -"
"Perhaps Nihilus trapped you, Revan," the Chancellor said.
Theron glanced indignantly at the Sullustan. "He didn't. Well, he did... but then..."
"Many times, the visions that trap us are meaningful of something else. Perhaps your travel was restricted by being contained. The reason everyone else only remembers the battle is because that is what they were present for," Horn explained. "You had to navigate into Nihilus' mind from the trap."
"It wasn't a trap. One of the ghosts... she gave up her existence to save them!" Theron shouted. He froze as he saw each member of the triumvirate had a hand on their weaponry.
"That's not possible, Revan. Force ghosts cannot die – they can only become one with the Force," Horn explained. "You were the one trapped."
Theron bit his lip. That... that couldn't be right. He remembered saving them all so vividly – but none of them remembered it? "Well, you can't have just called us here for that. What else do you want to talk about?"
"First: the Sith. I feel their presence on Ossus confirms our fears, but we have no concrete evidence to present to the Senate. No way to convince them to our side," Gann stated. He stood straight, his face a mask of harsh serenity that was only hardened by the way he crossed his arms – one hand was still clutching at the blaster that hung on his left side chest. "You will need to get that evidence in your next missions."
"Hooray?" Theron said.
Gann sneered at Theron. "Secondly... this ship you found in the hyperspace lane. The data is being poured over by our best software technicians and linguists, but they are having no luck as of yet in understanding what the data states."
"Yeah, we thought that would happen," Ana explained. "It doesn't even look like an Aurebesh alphabet."
"It is, though. Your judgment was incorrect. The problem is that nothing matches up – as far as we can tell, it is not encoded. The language... there is no related language in galactic archives," Gann said sternly.
"So you want us to keep a lookout for tech with the same language," Theron said. "If you can find something that lines up with our technology, you can maybe map out the language."
"Indeed," Gann said.
The room went quiet for a few minutes, aside from Rhen's drunken babbling. "Is that all?" Theron asked impudently.
Gann began to growl something at Theron, but was cut off by the Sullustan chancellor. "Indeed. You should have new dossiers on the Eagle by the time you get back. Go."
"Imperial Knight – a word," Gann said as the room began to disperse.
Theron glanced over at Ana. "It's fine. Go," she told him. Theron bit the inside of his cheek for a moment before nodding and walking outside the door. He kept close, however, to wait for Ana. The words between Gann and Ana sounded like an argument. She was obviously held in high esteem – or her parents were – if she could talk to Gann like that. Ana huffed out of the room a few moments later with anger steaming off of her.
"What happened?" Theron asked as he walked next to her.
Ana just mumbled to herself and walked ahead. Theron shook his head and walked over to the stumbling Rhen. He slipped one of Rhen's arms over his shoulders, and said to his blue friend, "You're looking a little... aquamarine. Look, just don't puke on me. There's a nice and ugly Nemoidian art piece to your right if you start feeling sick," Theron said. The twi'lek grinned at Theron and nodded before he began to wretch and vomit flew from his mouth just as Theron was able to turn his friend to said art piece.
He looked forward. "Let's get a cab!" he shouted.
A/N: Hey everyone! I don't like doing these much, cause they break the story up a bit much for me. However, I want to say thank you to everyone who has read the story this far, especially to the people following the story at the time of this posting: JumpingToaster, bandgsecurtiyaw, and themytick. To everyone who reads this far, I really appreciate it and would love some feedback in the reviews. They actually have affected the overarching plot so far and my final game plan. Thanks!