Chapter 5

Myself am Order

Lights flickered on. They were not built into the walls or the ceiling. Instead, quite shabbily, they were lanterns strung together by wire line that fed them electricity. They dangled and swung with the barest introduction of wind, and any movement in the rock about. Once active, the lamps all produced white light that shone luminously, but did not overwhelm the eyes. The room they illuminated was ovular, at least as it currently stood. There was no doorway that led into the room. Not yet, or perhaps, there never would be? It was yet to be decided.

There were long tunnels that dug deep into the soil and the rock of the world. Barely audible, and more as vibrations, one could hear the rumble of drilling machinery. Industrial jacks and hammers. Toiling and pitting away at the ground. Tilling and upending vast tracks of land. Reshaping it to the designs as imposed by the will and whim of the Lord. Pale light bloomed in through the vast holes and caverns leading out. The daylight in question was dimming, and the sky shone but the faint glow of sunset orange. As the whir and warble of great ships moving about could also be heard from the deep.

Two beings entered the room. One was familiar with it. The other was not. The room itself was perhaps four hundred square feet, to five. As some would count the measurements. Large, but not overly large. The footsteps made within cast echoes that bounced off the rocky walls. The familiar being, draped in a black cowl atop their head, stepped deeper within. Coming to a stop before a pile of set containers, durasteel and some plasteel. A large table sat to the left side of the room from the entrance. It was clean, but for dusty rock debris shaken from the ceiling.

The darkly clad being stared down at the many containers. Some long and rectangular. Others, boxy and stout. All filled with necessary tools, and equipment. Their eyes flashed, like that of burning fire. Before reverting to a brownish-yellow as they shone. While the second pair of boots and the being who wore them slowly stepped deeper into the room. Announcing a soft whistle as he circled himself.

"My...well I can say I am impressed with the foundational work sompleted so far. Here, your palace and that city of yours. Though," The masculine voice carried a chuckle upon it as it continued. "I must say I rather liked the palace and city more than this place. A little more than balmy I'd say…"

"Temperature control will be installed. With time." The dark clad being replied. Valdaran as he called himself, sometimes...other times as another name. Though, the second name, Kalev had only heard in passing from others. He did not yet know if it was appropriate to address his new employer by the name. So, for now, 'Valdaran' would do.

"Once this facility is more adequately completed, you will have all the expected amenities we discussed." Valdaran continued. Turning to face Kalev. The doctor drew nearer. Casting green-eyed gaze about the walls. "Not only shall this facility be your sanctuary to conduct all experiments as you please, and as commanded – it shall also act as a residence and pen for your toys and beasts. So long as you conduct yourself appropriately, of course."

"I understand, and remember, my Lord." Kalev nodded. "I presume the home in Mardorithil is also still mine?"

"Of course. You needn't worry of it. You may leave this place whenever you wish and return to my fair city whenever you desire. Your work has no set parameters for time and function. Your are the driver of your own success and productivity. If you, however, fail to meet my needs with true and honest adequate reasoning-"

"Needn't you worry of that, my Lord Valdaran." Kalev smirked. Shaking his head at the subtle threat.

"I would like to believe I am dedicated to my work. With these resources, your graciousness, and the freedom you've gifted me? I believe wholeheartedly I will find many reasons to remain here and work. Though, a break every now and again is good for the mind. Especially the highly intelligent and active ones such as my own."

"Your confidence is inspiring." Valdaran, slightly deadpanned in tone, complimented. "Let us hope such confidence is not ill placed."

"With time, you shall see, my Lord. For now, of course, I am an unknown factor. Soon, I shall be one of the greatest." Kalev smiled prominently. Once more allowing his pride and self-confidence to shine. Valdaran made no further note of it. Instead turning and grabbing one of the larger crates. With ease, the lanky figure of the man, lifted the crate and planted it along the nearby table. The weight of which thudded with the fall. Though, unprompted, and intrigued, Kalev moved nearer. Drawing up alongside Valdaran's right and just before the featureless silver table.

"Tools? Instruments I presume?"

"Most of these, yes." Valdaran nodded. Unlatching the twin locks on the crate's ends. "This, along with a few of the other cases contain the samples I mentioned prior." Valdaran opened the crate fully. Silently, Kalev peered down along with the Lord. Atop protective foam within the crate, snugly tucked within folds, there was a curious sight. Not something unseen or unimaginable, but curious.

Kalev tilted his head forward. Looking with squinted and intrigued eyes upon a horn, so it seemed. The telltale signs of lightsaber burns showed on the wider end of the horn. It was, itself, charred, or bore the color of charcoal black. Ribbed along the horn were lines commonly found on animals or beings with such horns that represented age or growth. While the horn itself was rather large. It still sported its tip, and based on how the structure went from larger to smaller width, Kalev could assume this was a smaller piece of the whole. Meaning the full size must have been quite impressive. What he could see now was somewhat thicker than the average human arm. And, for no particular reason; save perhaps for his appetite for the new and previously unknown through discovery of personal or universal manner, Kalev felt a thrill travel up and back down his spine. A glint in those green eyes as Valdaran gently stepped aside.

"May I?"

"Of course." Valdaran acquiesced. Allowing Kalev to plant himself fully before the crate and horn. Gingerly, his eyes glinting in fascinated awe, Kalev ran his right hand's fingers over the horn. Feeling a thin layer of blackened dust rub across his digits. The horn beneath, however, was sturdy. Not flimsy or fragile. Which would be good for extracting DNA. When the time was right.

"What creature did this come from?"

"That would be a long and complicated story." Valdaran offered. "Though, with time I will tell you. For now, we shall simply call it a balrog's horn."

"Balrog." Kalev repeated as Valdaran bent down and plucked another crate, smaller than the first into his hands.

"Indeed. The balrogs are powerful creatures. Their number has diminished beyond hope for...recruitment for my own ends. However, we needn't worry over armies, or vast legions."

"No?"

"No." Valdaran repeated. "I want you to first and foremost study the genetic properties you will discover from this horn. With it, you shall begin to see why it is of great importance and potential. Then, as your understanding grows, I shall share with you more."

"A test of sorts." Kalev nodded to himself. Receiving no immediate reply from Valdaran, he assumed he was on the right track. "Very well. I shall remember that going forward." Kalev gently closed the lid of the crate. Snapping the locks after. Allowing the Lord to place the second crate beside it. Pushing the first aside, Valdaran opened the second and showed Kalev what the man could discern to be a massive tooth or fang. As with the balrog sample, the doctor bent himself closer and examined the piece. Easily large enough rend him asunder! And, this portion, with another clear sign of lightsaber burns along the wider end of the sample, was just the tip really. Though, that said, there was more than enough material to work with here.

"And this?" Kalev wondered.

"The tooth of a dragon."

"Dragon!" Kalev repeated with a laugh. "One of the so called star dragons? It is rare indeed to retrieve a sample from one of their species."

"Not quite." Valdaran corrected simply. "This comes from a breed of dragons local to my home. The dragons from which are quite lethal, intelligent and deadly." The Lord explained. Planting his left hand atop the tooth and sliding his hand across it. Peering into Kalev's eyes with indiscernible thoughts and intent found within.

"I want this specimen studied, and I would very much like you to read my notes as I have prepared regarding what I want out of it. For now – the short version."

"Please." Kalev prompted him to continue. A mere pleasantry.

"It is my intention to build a force of these creatures. Modifying them to be stronger than they naturally are, as you shall discover with these samples. Therefore, I have induced Grievous to acquire several samples for you in which to see that happen. Namely, these star dragons of the galaxy, the duinuogwuin."

The Lord paused for a moment. As though...listening to something. Kalev cocked a curious brow. It was not the first time Valdaran had done such, but...Kalev didn't think it was befitting of him to speak on the matter either. So, he waited. And, as usual it was only a moment before the Lord continued.

"The star dragons are able to withstand the vacuum of space. I desire these dragons to be modified to do such. The star dragons have hides resilient to blaster fire. Without losing what power their scales have inborn, I desire what we create here to also resist the burn of blasters and lasers. We shall enhance their capabilities, and their functions. Their obedience shall, with effort and trial, match their intelligence."

"Hmm." Kalev nodded. Tilting his gaze away from Valdaran's matching stare. The Doctor's green eyes flicking over the tooth. His lips pursed thoughtfully. But, in the second after he grew a smile along his bearded features. "Not to sound overly confident, my Lord, but I think that will be more than possible. Of course, if I should receive the star dragon samples as well?"

"Grievous, the good General, has contracted mercenaries from the fringes of the galaxy. Those who have more real experience in viewing, as well as hunting the duinuogwuin for sport. I trust his efforts will bear fruit."

"Then I eagerly look forward to the opportunity!"

"And I...your work." Valdaran cast another of his near imperceptibly thin smiles. Closing the case, as Kalev removed his hand. The Lord sucked in a breath of air and took a more leisurely appearance. Stepping away from the table and bidding Kalev follow with a flick of his hand.

"As I mentioned, I shall send you in-depth reports of what I desire from your efforts. I will spend what time I can afford here with you. Watching and studying your methods and ways. As well as introducing my own skills and knowledge as they seem best. Though, do not mistake these two samples as being the bulk of your work. They will play an important role in what's to come. But, I have other needs and purposes. This facility will, when it's ready, be where all your projects spring forth from. Which includes my hordes, my beasts, and," He came to a sudden stop and turned to Kalev. Raising an index finger to emphasize the point. "Those things which are wholly unique to me. You may, whenever you want Doctor, question why I need what I need. You may even question the means, or the purposes. But, my reasons will be shared as I so wish. Understood?"

"Of course." Kalev nodded. His own expression serious.

"Good." Valdaran inclined his head back up the tunnel they had descended down from. The two men walked up. The light of ending day cast glow that drew up from their booted feet to their heads as they rose. Ascending into the light from the depths they had inhabited where nothing but artificial light could pierce.

Upon stepping onto the flats of the land both pairs of eyes beheld the sight of construction droids stamping massive clawed feet into the ground. Some upon treads rolling and pushing trees, debris, and rock. Various large worker droids entered and exited freighters carrying many cases, many crates, many tools. While overhead vulture droids could be seen escorting ships up and down, to and fro, from orbit beyond to the planet's surface.

Wet squelching of turned and overturned soil from deeper in the ground announced itself. Both pairs of boots sunk into the mounded dirt, and Valdaran, the Lord Sauron, clasped his hands behind his back. Watching the sight of machinery conduct business as he commanded. Hours would pass and structures that would take days would be erected. Weeks and months of work done in days, and years done in months. The twinkling of his yellowed eyes did not go unseen, but Kalev made no mention. Instead, with a slight smile and nod he joined his employer. Memory recalled of that being of fire and encircling smoke sliding over the fore of the Doctor's thoughts.

"This place shall be where life springs anew." Kalev intoned. "Unlike the primordial ooze from whence life came crawling forth across countless worlds, the errors of chance and happenstance can be properly adjusted by intellect and control."

"Primordial ooze?" Valdaran repeated. Turning gaze to Kalev. "Fascinating."

"Is that not what Man and the other beings of the universe come? Minus the silicate based lifeforms and so? Us of carbon, and cellular being."

"Mortal beings have the propensity to imagine one thing must be true. Therefore all else must be untrue, or false. A silly notion." Valdaran stepped away. Idly walking through the dirt.

"Two things, or more, can be true all at once. More than one thing can be a lie. To imagine there is only one indisputable fact and not a sum where truth finds roost is...foolish. Truth is a collective. Not a single thing."

"Philosophical." Kalev hummed. "Though I take your meaning. What I meant to say – call it mere whimsy on my part, is that this place shall be wondrous. The foundation of life anew. Genesis."

"Yessessë."

"Pardon?" Kalev questioned as Valdaran gave the barest hint of a shrug. Tilting towards him.

"Genesis. From the tongue of Quenya. A fitting word."

"Quenya." Kalev tested the word. "Your mother language?"

"No." Valdaran scoffed. "But...near it." The Lord intoned with a nostalgic hint. Kalev nodded. Finding the language, both used here and in times before...fascinating upon his ears.

Nevertheless, the two fell into a comfortable silence. Waiting as a shuttle came for them. Taking them up into the air and orbit. Soon returning to Mardorithil. At least, Kalev did, and his new home where he began rigorously overlooking the notes and data sent to him by way of his new Lord.

Sauron, for his part returned to Tár-Ostoli. The great curve of mountains. His Palace.

…

A doorway slid open. It was a slab of metal, but upon it and divided down the middle was his symbol. A Great Eye, lidless and always vigilant, was ornately designed into the durasteel. The symbol would not fade. At least, not with ease. The Eye was a deep crimson, while the door near pearly in its unstained steel. The streak over top was a smooth upward arch, ending at either side with points that began to loop back turning to tips. While that 'lid' was alone, underneath it was a point that stabbed downward thick as a knife. Seeming as though the central slit of Sauron's gazing infernal eye. Where from it, there was born at the upper tip a streak that struck left and looped under the stabbing point and around. Forming the under-lid.

No other doors within the palace had been decorated with this symbol. It was left as designation for the Lord's personal quarters. Here found in the high reaches of the central mountain of his palace. Accessed through a hall of stone connected via turbolift. Much of the rock had been left intact. Blackened rock stuck out smoothly from either wall of the hall, and from the ceiling while lights in the shapes of ornate chandeliers glowed brilliant white. Casting their light in sets of five lamps around the circumference of each.

The hallway floor, however, was flattened. The stone turned to a straightened slab. Then covered with an overlay of metal, upon which a rich red rug was strewn from the accessing turbolift, to the doors leading into his quarters. Upon the carpet's edges were entwined golden symbols and jagged markings. Done in uniformity upon either side, and with no true meaning behind them other than Sauron found personal enjoyment in the aesthetic. But, the center of the rug was another story.

Upon the red base were written blackened markings. As though a wall tapestry hung with letters, but upon the floor. Written in Tengwar was a recount ordered by Sauron to be sewn perfectly, symmetrically even. The tale told was one of fiery pits in northern wastes, and the Iron-Bound mountains after. How an island came to be his, one of wolves and where a battle was fought. No mention made, however of who won the battle. Merely that it occurred. To then speak in passing of great deeds done by a Lord of Gifts to bring order to a lost world gnashing in the dark. To be denied by mortal arrogance and to be undeterred. Where, at the end of the script, were but the welcome marks of ellipsis. The story was not yet finished. His story.

Regardless, Sauron tread over the covered floor. The low hum from vents built into the floor and walls sounded with all but imperceptible whirs of machinery. New air was cycled within and old air cleansed from not just this hall, but all within the halls bored into the mountain range. The work of the construction droids had been magnificent, and the labor of both the machine-men and the orc proved to be quick. So quick as to leave the Dark Lord buzzing. Elated, though unspoken, with the progress made. A whole star system his. A world, two in fact, being shaped to how he desired them while the others were soon to be properly utilized for their resources. Used for industry and fulfillment of need as was best. No waste, no want, and no concern for the greed and intentions of the feeble minded.

The door split open down the center. The Great Eye splitting as it did. Within, a room opened up. Large and encased within the same stone. The floor had been, as the hall was, made solid through laser cutting. Over top of it was laid wonderfully soft carpeting that folded and creased with every footfall. A color of maroon, hinted purple within the fabric. A royal appearance.

While on the far side of the room was led to a balcony. A jutted slab of stone made in the side of the mountain, and stone railing set across the rectangular veranda. All of it colored gray as the mountain's natural exterior rock. The railing columns decorated as pillars sporting symbols of the Eye, as well as enfolding rings as bands coiling around the pillars, like snakes. All of them bearing the written words upon them of either the One Ring come before, or Mírëlanya upon his hand now.

The room proper was square shaped, and wide. The right side of the room showed a bed. Draped overhead with silks of red and burgundy, tassels about of golden fleece. Covering the bed were many pillows, of matching colors, deeper reds, and black circular shapes to lay one's head. Underneath the comforter, white sheets showed. The bed was immaculate and clean. Kept so by servant droids that came as clockwork to tend the Lord's room. Though, in truth Sauron had rarely used the bed thus far. Sleep came rare, though when the Witch took control she found the mattress quite pleasing.

Upon the left side of the room was an entrance to the fresher. Bathing amenities within. A great mirror upon the wall past a doorway of stone showing no door. While a wardrobe was to the left of that arch. Made of wood, and fantastically fashioned as Sauron had desired and designed. Within, which was filled many articles of clothing. Some ornate, though many simple. For now, the apparel of the Lord needn't be opulent. For he could fashion himself into whatever image he needed, and to sport cloth was at times a waste. The time to dress and be shown in opulence would come, though. With more time.

Tapestries were hung on the wall. Depicting battles, though few were known. They called to Sauron upon learning of their significance through aid of the Witch in his ear. One was of the Great Hyperspace War. Showing the Battle of Coruscant at that time and in that era. When the Sith and their Empire came to topple the power that spawned like a disease within the Core, and slowly tangled its tentacles out across the galaxy over centuries. A slow and unimpressive process, so Sauron believed. Though...he was sure to remind himself great speed did not make one's advance great. Time, patience...these things were key and of great importance.

Another artistic piece showed an amalgam of the many Battles of Ruusan. A series of conflicts on the world of Ruusan that shaped the Republic as it stood until this day. Once more fought between the Sith, and this time, more centrally against the Jedi Order. While a mural was wrought into the stone over his royal bed. One chiseled under his command and by his will by the orcs and uruks. Showing the toppling tower of Barad-dûr. A sight he would never forget. A defeat he should not let easily wain from memory. Forever staining him...fueling and driving him. A testament to his continued resilience.

Finally, while the room's opulence stood as testimony to the importance of the being that now occupied it, there was set a stone dais within the center. Blackened marble lined in white streaks across the surface of the slab. A square bottom that rose and thinned into beautiful arches that ascended and ended upon a pillar of four prongs that stood upwards. Acting as a resting place for the globed treasure within. The palantír. The blackened orb was swirled across its surface in wonderfully swirling lines that ran from pole to pole. Within the orb seemed to churn, like clouds, a power or unknown heart, The device, like all others of its class, mysterious, but incredibly powerful. A fine token forged in days long passed by Fëanor.

The doorway slid shut behind him by silent will. Commanded through the Force. While Sauron's visage, as that of a gaunt and thin man passed the boundary of the room, a sound like rumbling clouds passed as a shadow over him. The veil was stricken at once. Revealing a pale woman. Her fair flesh cold, but no less alive. Her eyes bristling in the black gashes wreathed with fire. While her body returned to her natural athletic strength, and slender, but healthy form. The true shape of his host, Vica.

"I have to say, the Zalliste guy...?"

"What of him?" Sauron responded to the Witch aloud. Her voice tinged deeper and slightly monotone by his control. Her spectral visage snapped into his sight. Stood ahead near the dais holding the seeing stone.

"He's got that look to him. A guy who has wild ideas and maybe, wilder ambitions?"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No...not necessarily. I just thought you would be at the front of all creations or experimentation." Vica shrugged. "Handing over the keys to...well whatever it is you're doing seems to require a bit of trust, no? Especially with things as important as the balrog horn, and dragon tooth."

"Trust needn't necessarily exist before all else is done." Sauron countered. Coming to a stop before the palantír and turning his gaze to the witch. "He has previously shown to be smart enough to fear my being. Fear and respect often coincide, though not always. He, unlike many I have so far met in this galaxy, has shown proper decorum in the face of that which he does not understand. While at once yearning to understand it. He may never truly know what it is he's doing. Though, even if he does come to understand – be it through my own words or his mind's conclusions, he will only come to grasp the importance more clearly. That will be good for him. Better for us."

"If you say so." She relented flippantly. A smirk on her spectral self as she circled the dais. Standing opposite and across from Sauron. His fiery gaze focusing in on the globed sphere.

"I say so." Sauron intoned with a hint of dismissiveness. "We have conducted ourselves quickly and efficiently thus far. Our days are freed of prying eyes. All concerns in the galaxy are placed at the feet of the Republic and the Confederacy. The powers that be. Fomenting peace or slowly rolling back into war. While all eyes and all else focuses on the aftermath of Sidious' machinations we must continue to accumulate. Wealth is of no concern. Grievous, and those who 'rule' in fear of him award us all we would need that credits would otherwise cost."

"Quite nice having an infinite pocketbook on hand." Vica smirked. Memories flashed in Sauron's mind of the frightened faces of the Separatist Council back on Mustafar. Her thoughts becoming momentarily his own. He nodded in agreement.

"Agreed. Though, money, and all iterations of it do not concern me. They are the creation of mortal minds. Formulated in greed. A quality many mortals share with dragons. Though with those beasts they are far more honest with their avarice."

"Profound." She scoffed gently. Returning to her slow pace around the dais and eventually Sauron. "Not that I care too much about credits. It's what you can have when the credits flow that is what many people are after. Food, nice homes. You know? Maybe an up to date air or landspeeder? Some people just want simple things that comfort them."

"Then their simple pleasures mount. Turning to needing greater returns to satiate their desires."

"I feel like you're talking about someone specifically?"

"No." Sauron refuted, shaking his head. "Splendor, and mortal show of opulence has always...confounded me." He tilted her head up. Narrowing his sight as he planted his hands upon the sides of the dais. "Beings who were born of dust and dirt...formed in...ooze as the Doctor spoke, dare to imagine themselves deserving of dress and raiment that denotes power? Imagine, if you can Witch, you stand overlooking a mound of insects all skittering about. Their masses writhing in the reek and refuse passed as excrement from roaming beasts about the land. There the insects with wild abandon mate, and breed, and spawn new life. They gnash and crash. Tearing one another apart and feasting on the dung as well as one another. Yet, in all their unspoken and uncaring moral depravity they gather to themselves facsimiles of greatness. They have deemed themselves worthy of such garb. Creating clothing, yet only some can wear cloth of finer make. Creating homes where some are larger merely because those who control greater mounds of dung have imagined they are worthy of it." Sauron paused. A confused furrow upon his worn brow as he tilted gaze from up, over left to right. Confusion mired by clear disgust as Vica watched and listened.

"Worms...ants...dung-beetles. All feasting at the same trough upon the same muck. All festering and excreting fluids in the primal savagery of procreation. Their simplistic minds begin to use the unfathomable gift of higher thought, of free choice and free will to adorn themselves in fine grass, in silk robe, and jewels formed in the rocks. Yet…" Sauron cast an airy laugh. Those blazing eyes finding Vica. Boring into her spectral simulacra.

"Yet, while they commit themselves to this show of self-importance and grandeur, there you stand. Towering over them. Adorned in your own cloth and in your own raiment. You stare down upon them and you see them for what they are. No better than the beasts whose dung they consume. They are parasitic. They yearn to be greater than they are. Not at all satisfied in the gift of their beings. Finding no joy in acting in accordance with how nature would have them be. Instead, they use that primal nature and twist it. Forming rules by which to abide. Though not laws. Not order. Rules rather. Standards of practice! The rich and the powerful wear robes and turn their noses at the poor and the restless. They in turn find those among themselves they can hurt, and take and steal from. The powerful using them as instruments to manage society to their own ends. Yet, society itself is a creation. One that should be formulated to the proper running of things. Instead, it is carefully carved and created to give some power and the rest none. The productive starve and die without hope for use. The opulent meander and waste, and those in-between dare imagine themselves just on the cup of greatness when they are truly upon the knife's edge. Near falling into waste and naught as the poorest among them."

"Fair enough." Vica cut him off. Throwing her arms out. "What's your point?"

"My point?" Sauron repeated. A momentary glint like...disappointment passed his eyes, before he shook the show from his worn face.

"My point, witch – mortals try to straddle the center. Primal, and earnest living as the beasts they are. Or, in an ordered society of esoteric and amalgamated rules and regulations constraining them by the dictates of those they have, as the majority, surrendered, to the minority. Not a minority of race, sex, or these other pathetically imagined boundaries created by finite minds. But, of those with the will enough to simply create the rules. The disorder I despise, and the mortal propensity to layer oneself in fine cloth, in glimmering jewel, and greater houses than thou? They are one in the same. It is as a show. A game, like the mating dances of wild birds. Rituals created by the unknowing and simple to give some kind of rudimentary purpose to purposeless lives. All of them symptoms of the disease of disordered society. That...is the sickness that must be tended to."

"No arguments from me...I think." Vica tentatively agreed. Once more pacing her astral form as she nearly circled the dais entirely. Once more coming up on the opposing side facing Sauron.

"Me and the rest of 'mortality' don't always see eye to eye. So to speak. Beings, humans, twi'leks, whatever...they're wretched. I have never found myself too worried how they see me. How I should see them either. They are responsible, more often than not, for their misery. At least where they circle it among each other. All racing to dictate to others. To overpower and...hurt...use." Her face contorted into a distressed sneer. A growl near imperceptible in Sauron's view of her, uttering free.

"Yes…" Sauron hummed. "I have read of the Sith. Listened to you speak of them, and I have met one."

"Funny." She chuckled. Turning back to him. Prior memories fading.

"Hmm." He nodded. "Sith, and like-minded tyrants, kings, dictators...nearly all of whom I have read up on since leaving Arda and Middle-Earth. All have to some degree seen the symptoms of the great disease. In their own ways they try to treat the symptoms. But, as hubris always does, they become infected by the very same propensities toward greed, and power for their own sake. Leaving waste and want in their wake. Discordant and disorderly. A waste of a generation or more of proper and productive living."

"But you know how to do better?"

"Perhaps." Sauron nodded. "I admit past experiences have shown...weakness. My attempts at healing this disorder have shown only failure time and again in spite of my efforts. The beginning and opening salvo towards creation of a proper society with well being accounted for all, is dragged through mud and blood to become desperation. In the need to quash the enemies of your vision you turn towards brutal tactics and measures that seem barbaric. In this way I failed. But, now? Now I have another chance. Another attempt that can be made. Greater than all else that have come before. Failure? That does not concern me. Failure shall come in how we go forward. We learn from it and adapt. We do not become shackled by dogma and false moral assumptions. The past is the only means by which we can learn of errors made. I...we, shall endeavor to not repeat the failures come before."

A moment of silence passed between them. Finally, Vica nodded. Slowly at first then with firm conviction. Shrugging head and shoulders she gave physical consent, though in truth it was not needed.

"Alright, I'm in. As I have been for some time...since you invaded my body and everything."

"And promised you greatness."

"True...and so far I like where things are headed." She beamed a genuine grin his way. Folding her arms together she leaned forward. Planting her forearms along the seeing stone. Whether she actually used the dais to hold her up, or it was merely how she wanted Sauron to perceive her, he could not tell. Nor asked.

"Then, what's the next step in your...our, grand plan, O wise and powerful one?"

"Cute." Sauron retorted before stepping nearer the dais. "The creation of the main research facility will continue and take some time. As well, Mardorithil will need to be completed under the watch of the Wraith Lord and the droids. Even our palace is not yet fully complete."

"Which means?"

"The political situation must reach its anointed point before we begin the necessary measures to reshape the Confederacy. The facilities here in system also need completion before the necessary military apparatus and other assorted projects can be fulfilled. Which leaves us with personal empowerment."

"Personal empowerment…" Vica repeated. Her head tilting, and then...a smile burgeoned on her face. Almost childish in its excitement. "You mean-"

"Yes." Sauron nodded, and cut her off. "I have looked into the palantír. With our combined strength I have managed to push its gaze far. My will and the Force in league to search out some of the 'sounds' I heard while we sat caged on Coruscant. Like that of voices."

"And?!" Vica all but jumped in exhilaration.

"Take a look with me. Perhaps you will know where this is." Sauron motioned to the seeing stone. Vica understood she must have been 'asleep' when Sauron had 'pushed' himself further out through the Force using the strange globe. She didn't care. She bore a toothy smile, a grin on her face. She removed her astral self from the stone and popped out of sight. Reappearing alongside him, as Sauron planted her body's right hand upon the stone.

The Dark Lord's eyes closed. The cloudy heart of the stone seemed to crackle and groan. As though a flash or burst of lightning within tore at the interior. But, no crack nor crash nor break came. Sauron's will imposed itself onto the stone as had never been done before. The Force, reaching through and forcing the sight into places it had not been meant for. But, as though a tether had sprung forth and entered the stone, it searched out familiar sights and sounds about the endless firmament of the universe. Heard only because those who called wanted to be heard. Or, they cried loud enough in the vastness to be heard.

The stone turned to a blazing fire! An inferno burgeoned within and consumed the stone's interior. The lidless and vacuous slant of the Great Eye formed within and the blackened pit drew nearer. Nearer still until the stone passed through the dark heart. Stars flew by, as though streaks made before ship entry into hyperspace. Vica watched as the streaks turned to blurred lines. The sight of the palantír drove further and further. Passing through the darkness. A sound like a wailing cry snarled in pained discomfort. She did not know from whence it came. Only that it passed, and soon the blinding swirl of lights came to a sudden stop.

The vision within the stone seemed to snap into real space. Or, a show of real space. Before her sight was endless red. A great orb in the darkness that thrummed crimson, like blood. While in the far distance a greater light than the countless prickling stars shone upon it. Many orbs littered the great reddish ball. Some nearer and some further distant.

Her astral eyes narrowed. She felt a shadow, like memory, of her pulse racing. Though, for a long moment she did not know what she was looking at. There was something familiar about it, and she racked her brain. Sauron, spoke then.

"This is the world I have seen as I broke the barrier of sight. Something gnashes in the dark. A signature of life that has yet to leave the waking world. Similar, though not wholly, to the plain the Nazgûl exist upon. The call echoes throughout this system. I know it is a world, this great red giant. But, I have yet to find the exact source of the sound. Though," Sauron turned to Vica. "It does seem powerful."

"Right…" Vica nodded, all but giddy. "Red...gas giant...oh!" A gasp erupted from her. Her eyes widened and her smile returned to a full fledged grin. Spectral right hand pointed to the palantír and she turned to meet Sauron's questioning gaze.

"I know it! I know this! Yavin! The Yavin System!"

"Yavin…" Sauron repeated the word. "I've read of it. And, feel as though you have mentioned it before."

"Maybe...probably in passing? I don't remember. But, yes! Yavin! That's Yavin Prime. Or, just Yavin. It's a gas giant and the main world of the system, ergo the name. It's surrounded by a lot of moons. A lot." She repeated in emphasis.

"I see." Sauron intoned. "In my readings of Sith history I have seen reference to this system. Most notably of-"

"Yavin IV!" Vica preempted. "Lots of Sith history there. Naga Sadow, Freedon Nadd, the Massassi, and Exar Kun."

"Exar Kun." Sauron repeated the name. An indefinable furrow of some kind of thought passing Vica's worn face. Though, in her elation she did not press after it.

"If you felt the Force here, the dark side, whatever – then it has to be flowing from Yavin IV!"

"And this system, it should be easy to travel to?"

"Should be." Vica shrugged. "It's not exactly industrially or strategically important. The Republic and Confederacy had a little scuffle there. More Skywalker," She spat his name. "And Ventress did, but whatever."

"Very good." Sauron hummed. The palantír released another long pained whine, or so Vica imagined...or heard? She didn't know. But, the sight receded. The lights blitzed in retreat and through the blackened gaze of the Eye, the fire surrounding it, all vision soon faded to nothingness. Nothing but the ebb of a single pale white light cracking through the surface of the cloudy core.

Sauron removed his hand from the sphere, and idly brushed it along the blackened clothes Vica's body wore. Turning to her, he spoke.

"While the servants build our worlds up, and Doctor Zalliste learns what exactly he'll be doing here – you and me, Witch, will pay a visit to Yavin IV."

"Yes!" Almost childish once more. She clapped her hands together. Flashes of her thoughts. Hopeful trinkets, tomes and holocrons filled with power crossed her mind. Unspoken, Sauron imagined something more. He said nothing of it.

Before either could speak again, the comlink Sauron kept on his person began to ping. Calling his attention. He picked the device up and saw the originator of the incoming transmission. Vica didn't speak as Sauron activated it. Placing it in hand as the small figure of General Grievous materialized.

"General." Sauron bowed Vica's head. "I was about to call you for transportation."

"Good timing then." Grievous grumbled in his usual, though perhaps less intentional growl. "I have just received a report from one of our patrol ships on the fringes of known space. It appears, after dealing with local pirates over an unknown system, they picked up a guest." Sauron's brow rose before he spoke.

"A 'guest?' What kind of guest exactly?"

"A being calling themselves Mitth'raw'nuruodo. 'Thrawn' for short. A Chiss apparently. Rarely seen species in the wider galaxy. They stick to their own worlds in the Unknown Regions."

"I see." Sauron replied. "Forgive me, General, but I do not know what this has to do with me?"

"This Thrawn managed to negotiate his way aboard by destroying a platoon worth of droids, and making contact with the Captain of the ship orbiting the planet. Thrawn, whoever he is, refuses to go into details, but claimed to the Captain; a togorian named Mazger, to have important information regarding 'threats' from the Unknown Regions." Grievous explained. Lifting himself to a full stand and pushing his cloak backwards as he clasped his metal hands.

"Normally I would have the Captain blast the man out into space!" His rage resurfaced. Grievous crushed his right hand into a trembling balled fist. Before, his shoulders relaxed and he grumbled. Returning the appendage behind his back.

"However, considering the circumstances I thought you would like to know? I do not care much for what the chiss claims to know. In truth, I would normally not care. But, if there are threats we do not know of, then I think it would be wise to at least hear the being out, no?"

"Wise indeed." Sauron agreed. Vica, unseen by Grievous frowning. Thoughts imagining Sauron diverting his intent to go to Yavin fluttering over her mind.

"Do you intend to interrogate him?" To the question, Grievous shifted himself.

"The chiss mentioned having contacts within the galaxy he would have liked to get back in contact with. He would not detail what he meant by that to Captain Mazger. What Thrawn did request, according to Mazger, was access to the HoloNet. The Captain denied the request, but did allow Thrawn to observe several viewing channels. News and movie feeds, meaningless entertainment. The chiss focused on the news broadcasts."

"And?"

"Thrawn asked if a 'Kinman Doriana' worked for the Confederacy after a few hours of this. Mazger didn't know, but reported it to me. I had the name searched. Kinman Doriana was a personal assistant, aide and agent of Chancellor Palpatine. Currently on the run from the Republic too."

Silence returned. Thoughts rippled through all three minds. Vica's face contorted into a sneer and a scoff passed her lips. Returning to pacing around Sauron. The Dark Lord hummed at that revelation.

"Now it becomes more clear why you were cautious, General. I commend your forethought." Grievous dipped his head slightly. The General and Sauron showing a continued propensity to be cordial with one another. Vica assumed it was Sauron's way of 'taming' the beast. She liked Grievous well and good. But, she understood why Sauron would speak with the cyborg as he was. Nevertheless, she shook herself as Sauron continued.

"If you can spare the time, General, I would much desire to speak with this Thrawn. I believe I would have a greater chance gleaming what knowledge he claims to have."

"I have already begun the process. I will collect the chiss personally, and bring him to you."

"Good. I will have accommodations prepared for him. However, there is a matter I must attend to in the meantime."

"Yes, you mentioned transport?"

"I did." Sauron nodded. Vica feeling her excitement return! A joyous realization Sauron did not intend to divert their attention…

"The world of Yavin has a moon. Yavin IV. I must travel there. My reasons are, for now, my own General. Though, I would like a small fleet sent to secure the system."

"Hmm…" Grievous brought his hands forward and snapped a few keys on an unseen console on his side. His reptilian eyes scanned a screen.

"That system lies within our expected territory come the negotiations. It should be no issue sending a patrol force. Will two Munificents and a Recusant-class be acceptable?"

"More than acceptable, General." Sauron agreed. "Have them come as soon as possible."

"As you wish."

Listening on, Vica remained excited. Her mind thoughtful for but a moment on this 'Thrawn.' But, her mind was elsewhere. Upon a lush forested moon. Within stone halls and ruins. Where Sith secrets and old bones lay.

Where spirits...at least one, wandered restless still.

L's Note: Hey everyone! Another chapter in! Glad to see you back Huan! I and Lord Kun missed your thoughts and commentaries. Also, thanks for the insight to the grammar again. As always if anyone sees any grammar mistakes that are exceedingly bad or if it just bothers you let me know I will try and fix them. Otherwise, please leave your reviews and thoughts as always. They're always a driving force for Lord Kun to continue writing. :)

Don't worry everyone. We'll be checking in on other characters soon. This story will probably have a lot of chapters. All of it important. So stay tuned!

Till the next!

-L

Edit Note: Edited/Updated 08/29/2023