The New Frontier

The Dearg Due slipped into the Rago system with a sigh. The maps within her shuttle's navigational computer had been updated during her brief stop at the Redoubt on the eastern edge of Chiss Space. The commander of the nearby station made a great effort to hurry her along, obviously seeing the presence of a Sith Lord human as a double insult to his pride and station. Gladiolus kept note of his name, for he, like the Ruling Families who dared insult her with that inadequate treaty, would perish on the day she made the Chiss completely hers.

The shuttle sensors detected activity on the largest planet orbiting the system's solitary star. Gladiolus waited a few seconds before a readout appeared on her left. Nothing stood out; the locals appeared ignorant of her presence. Then again, the few ships around the planet stuck close to its gravity well and the transition point that led to what her updated charts called "the Rago Run".

Gladiolus tapped a finger on her console as she considered her options and how she could handle traveling through this new, foreign galaxy. With the Force, she regulated her need for oxygen, water, and food. It served her well, given the time required to travel through hyperspace.

I should consider further upgrading the Dearg Due, but that requires money that I do not possess. Whatever the Republic or neighboring systems use will be beyond my reach without some careful deceptions.

She understood that with the Force's power, she could coerce someone into upgrading and repairing her shuttle's antiquated systems. Her time in the Chiss Ascendancy, as limited as it was, revealed the truth of their antiquity. But that would leave a trail. Unless the Jedi were completely subverted by the dark side's influence, they could follow it to her. She doubted many among their number could not her wielding the dark side so far from the Core. She sensed how the shroud of the dark side cloaked Coruscant. They were blinded, unaware of the Sith and their influence. Gladiolus knew with grim certainty that the Sith persisted. Yet the fact the Chiss, who in their isolation and secrecy appeared to know more about the wider galaxy than they otherwise should, failed to confirm that the Sith remained after Ruusan meant they had successfully gone into hiding. Even now, they worked against the Jedi.

Her lips pursed. Gladiolus knew she could attempt to seek these other Sith out. But she knew nothing of them. They could attempt to kill her upon meeting, or they might strike an alliance. Perhaps they would pursue both options. Gladiolus could be used to draw Earth under their sway. Once her homeworld was their thrall, they would cast her aside if she would not succumb to whatever Order fashioned so they could hide from the Jedi and their Republic.

She would attempt the same were their positions reversed. But alas, she did not have that luxury. While she did have her apprentice back on Earth, she could not control Darth Myrddryn as she would prefer while so far away. After all, the holocomm link with Earth had not been extended into Chiss Space. Thus, she could not send messages across the expanse of Chiss Space toward home.

I must walk my own path from here. I must learn all that has changed since the time of Lord Salazar. If there is a chance to learn of these new Sith and take their measure, then I must take it—but I cannot throw away my life to try and appease them.

An alliance or a blood feud. There is no middle ground.

Gladiolus breathed out heavily. Her mind was made. Time to move on. She set a course down the Rago Run for Ansion, which sat at a hyperspace junction according to her navigational maps. That location should mean civilization. From there, she could plot her course deeper into the galaxy set before her.

The Dearg Due passed through Rago space until she reached the jump point. With the locals none the wiser, the Sith Lord made the jump to hyperspace.

She was three hours out from Ansion when her shuttle reverted to real space with a harsh jerk. Darth Gladiolus leaped from her meditation and stormed into the cockpit. Beyond the viewport, she saw three clunky ships drawing into positions around the Dearg Due. One possessed the same bulbous protrusions she had seen on the strange cruiser at Kinoss.

Interdiction technology? Out here? Her brows furrowed. They cannot be a Republic task force. Their ships are too weathered for that purpose. Plus, the Chiss mentioned something about 'demilitarization' before I made for Csilla. Could the Republic lack a navy entirely?

Darth Gladiolus reached out with the Force as two ships—large freighters or small cruisers, she did not know the appropriate term—moved to prevent her from turning and leaping back to Rago. She sensed the crews of the three ships and their hunger. The deprivation they lived in made her shudder. She almost recoiled at discovering their intentions.

Slavery? That cannot be so! The Republic would not permit it—not unless they are powerless out here.

Her hands clenched tight. Her jaw almost locked. Memories of her life as Edelweiss Potter flickered in her mind, many revolving around her relationships with Dumbledore and Voldemort. She had destroyed them when she ascended into her full powers as Darth Gladiolus. Yet the memory of them haunted her still. And she understood why. While both men would dismiss slavery as a barbaric practice, their actions spoke louder than any words.

Fury brewed in her gut. She would destroy these foul slavers before she permitted them any chance to put her in chains. A single hope would remain to keep their lives, but she doubted they would accept it.

Gladiolus activated her comm and transmitted, "Dearg Due to unnamed pirates. This is your sole warning: flee or die."

Several long seconds passed before she received a response. Gladiolus glowered at the boisterous laughter that answered her threat. She understood why they would not perceive her as a threat. After all, they knew nothing about her power in the Force. She had given them the chance to run and hide instead of dying by her hand. And they had decided that attacking and enslaving her was the 'wise' choice to make.

A wide malicious grin crossed her face. The ship that remained before the Dearg Due—the one with the interdictor bulbs—finally activated its tractor beam. Gladiolus rose from her seat as her shuttle was slowly brought aboard.

She would enlighten these pirates, either with the Force or her lightsaber. They would learn what it meant to irritate a Sith Lord.

A shame they do not know what I am, Gladiolus thought. She giggled as she reached the shuttle ramp. Oh, what does it matter? They'll all be dead soon enough.

Darth Gladiolus grinned widely. With a soft twist of her hand, she lowered the ramp.

Niem Ganbohr grinned as the strange black shuttle settled on the deck of Trigar, his flagship. He knew he had grown little from the up-jumped scavenger he had been only a year ago. But with the interdictor matrix and tractor beam added to his small fleet, he was slowly making himself into the Scourge of Wild Space. Time would tell how long he would persist in his predations before Coruscant was forced to take action by some pathetic Mid Rim government with just enough influence to make a few senators cry.

He waved forward the heavy troopers amongst his crew. Spice flowed through their veins thin enough they would do whatever he demanded. As long as the spice flowed, their minds could not resist whatever his whims were. He only needed to ensure the right mixture reached them at the right time. Too little and their conscious minds might arise. Too much and they would become worthless to him. Niem had no cause to fear mutiny or treason aboard Trigar. Any who might plot against him either went aboard the pickets sent to bait vessels onto whichever hyperspace lane he haunted or found their way through a poorly monitored airlock before they could move against him.

"Open her up," Niem commanded. "And double-check your blasters, men. Stun bolts only." He then muttered to himself, "You never know whom you might encounter out here."

And Niem genuinely meant those last words. He had once—and only the once—encountered a Jedi. He had sent the 'guardian of peace and justice' on his way, thankful they accepted his claim that he was a security officer testing new methods of hunting pirates and slavers on the edge of Wild Space. The fact he managed to disguise his small fleet as security soldiers before the cautious gaze of a Jedi Knight still pleased him.

The ramp opened before any of his men could reach the shuttle's access panels. Niem was uncertain where said panels were, but he trusted his men to crack open the ship and expose whoever was aboard. He grinned. Very rarely did a sensible passenger or pilot bless him with an easy capture. Most stayed aboard, a blaster at the ready for the inevitable boarding.

A woman slowly descended the ramp, dressed in black. Shimmering metal boots peeked out from the hem of her robe. Niem made out Nerf leather pants and a strange, velvet tunic beneath said robe. Black covered the woman's neck; he could not tell if it was fabric or a tattoo. He grew slowly more and more certain that they were tattoos, for he made out markings of a similar kind on her face—along with burning yellow eyes beneath the cowl of her robe.

She stared into his soul and Niem nearly retreated with fear. His heart still clenched with the terror the woman before him inspired.

She paused at the base of her shuttle's ramp, glancing between the heavy troopers with their raised blasters. "You are welcome to try, but I shall strike you down if you make the attempt," she said in an oddly accented Basic. It almost sounded like she was from the Core. Niem had enough painful and unfortunate encounters with folk from the Core to know what their voices sounded like. He knew the way she spoke loitered between high class Coreworlders and the few poor who lived on worlds other than Coruscant.

None from the Core, regardless of class, would speak so. Not even the poor, should they somehow escape their fate far beneath the shiny surface of that distant city-world.

"Lower your weapons," Niem commanded. He stepped forward and smiled roguishly when the woman offered a hand his way. He took the hand and kissed the metal gauntlet she wore. "I am Niem Ganbohr, captain of Trigar, this ship, and commander of the little fleet you have been caught up in, my lady."

"Lord," she said, as though the correction came naturally to her. "You shall call me 'Lord Gladiolus'. That, or 'Darth Gladiolus'."

Niem frowned. He swore he knew that strange name. Or was it a title? Darth. Darth. Where in the kriffing hells had he heard it?

"Then I welcome you aboard, Lord Gladiolus." He glanced past her to the shuttle. "That's a very unique vessel you have there. Why, I'd almost call it a relic."

She offered him a small, almost simpering smile. "Why, it is a thousand years old, Captain Ganbohr. I cannot fault you for calling it a relic, for that is what my dear Dearg Due is." Lord Gladiolus then shrugged. "Thankfully, she has received some repairs in the time since she came into my possession. I hope to make further… advances."

Niem nodded, all the while wondering how recently her shuttle received any work. The woman before her appeared frighteningly young. He wagered she was barely over the age of twenty, if not younger. While in most civilized corners that would make her an adult, he knew all too well that young humans—especially young women with power and titles—made very foolish choices, almost entirely on whims.

"I can have my men inspect your shuttle," Niem offered. "I'll even eat the costs accrued—"

"I'd rather something else from you, Captain," Lord Gladiolus demanded. "I'd like everything you know or possess concerning both the Jedi and the Sith."

His heart nearly skipped a beat. Niem had read once of the long-dead Sith. They had used the title of Darth.

She glanced back over her shoulder, past the troopers awkwardly loitering about now that their task had been stolen from them, and before allowing her gaze to settle upon Niem. He smiled despite the way those sulfuric eyes poured into him like molten ore in a refinery. "Unless you possess nothing of value to me, Niem Ganbohr."

"I'm not one to peddle in history and philosophy, Lord Gladiolus." Niem smiled as her eyes narrowed. "However, I do know people who will possess what you desire. Why, you can find anything you desire on the black market across the galaxy! Drugs, weapons, militaries."

"Then I will appreciate the use of your contacts, Captain Niem." She paused. He suddenly had a feeling as though she were peering into his soul. "Unless there is a secret you are keeping from me."

"Why, I don't know—"

"You've engaged in the slave trade," Lord Gladiolus said sternly. "You thought to sell me off before I revealed… what I am." She stepped forward into his space before twirling around him; his heavies raised their blasters before hesitating. He had fallen between them and their target, who had decided to lean against him. He felt the press of her breasts against his back and her warm breath against the nape of his neck. "Now, why should I let a mongrel like you continue running around?"

"I… I can be of use to you!" he rattled off. "As you know, I have contacts—"

His throat constricted. He gasped for breath while one of her hands grasped around his ribs. Somehow she held him up; Niem easily had fifty more kilograms of weight, let alone the dozen-plus centimeters in difference concerning heights. Yet here she was, controlling him like a puppet.

"Now, the way this will work is that you shall have those kind men lower their weapons. After that, you will give me the name and location of every slaver you've ever worked with. Should you impress me with your haste, perhaps I shall let you and the rest of your measly, rag-tag fleet remain alive."

"Else?" Niem gasped; he knew a threat when he heard one. His throat constricted tighter. The edges of his vision fuzzed with shades of black and grey.

"Else I shall destroy you all. I sense several names known to you, but not all of them. I will hunt down any you betray. You'd be wise to betray them all to me, in exchange for not only your life, but for the life of every man and woman who serves under your command I will spare none."

He nodded, unable to speak. Seconds passed before the strange constriction around his throat released. Niem gasped for air as he collapsed forward onto his knees. He raised a hand toward his heavies, breathing in harshly as he sought to regain the breath necessary to command them—

"Captain, do not forget~!" Lord Gladiolus sang. He did not see her face, but he imagined her glinting white teeth and the blazing yellow eyes she possessed. They, along with those strange, striking tattoos struck fear into his heart. He shivered and nodded. His decision had been made for him.

"Men, lower your weapons," Niem said. He grimaced as he slowly rose to his feet and glanced over his shoulder. Lord Gladiolus watched him carefully, searching for any sign he might betray her.

I'd be a fool to turn against her now, Niem thought grimly. He rubbed his throat, wondering what means she used to restrain him without physical touch. Niem had heard rumors about the Force. Many tales described the Force akin to witchcraft like that peddled by the women of Dathomir, cursed to never leave their hellish world. Though given the influx of Dathomiri Zabrak into the slave trade, one can never be certain they'll remain constrained to their foul world. It could be that whatever troubles they faced have come to an end and those who are selling their thralls meant to fight their wars into slavery emerged victorious.

Niem knew whatever future those Dathomiri witches hoped to claim would never come to pass. This 'Darth Gladiolus' would not permit them to continue with whatever plans they possessed. She would descend upon the galactic slave trade with a degree of violence and terror that none presently involved could fathom. They were utterly unprepared for a woman of her nature. Though the Jedi deserved to be mocked and derided for their passive inability to squash the slave trade, they were also fairly predictable.

But Lord Gladiolus would not remain passive. She would act, and the galaxy would quiver before her coming.

And if Niem remained fortunate, he would become her herald. His voice would rattle the stars, spelling doom for the Republic and their Jedi. He would descend upon the systems where the Republic had little or no influence and warn them of the coming tide. They would learn of this woman from him, and they would either bow to her immediately or they would be destroyed. No middle ground would exist; any who dared oppose her would face their doom. He knew it to be certain, despite any misgivings he might have about a single woman having the power to shake and rattle the galaxy.

"I… I can provide you with all you desire," Niem said. "Though it shall take time, I'm afraid. More than I believe you willing to spend at present."

Lord Gladiolus considered him with a cool stare for several long seconds. And then her lips twitched into a smirk. "If that is what you believe, good captain, then so be it. Why should I stand in the way of your good work?"

He managed to resist every impulse to speak truthfully and brusquely to this strange woman. Niem already understood speaking to her so would bring pain and suffering onto him. While he understood pain to be part of life, he took no pleasure in the knowledge he would suffer it more often now. He had made great efforts to minimize pain in his life, instead inflicting it on those who risked his wellbeing.

He would need to change his ways thanks to his new colleague. Niem turned from the terrible woman and her sulfuric gaze. He did not believe her offended by the gesture, despite the fact many who claimed the title of 'lord' or 'lady' would have taken offense at his actions. But then she was a Sith Lord. Based on all he knew, they had been a unique breed, one that could not be trusted as an equal. A day would come when she would impose her will over his, and his life would rely on bending to her.

"Go on," she simpered, taunting and teasing. "No need for you to monitor me, dear captain. I have no reason to strike down you and yours, given the effort you are… contributing to my cause."

Niem nodded, resisting the temptation to ask what precisely she meant by 'her cause'. He wanted to fathom it was nothing kind or desirable. Yet what metric did he have to judge her by? Perhaps if she were nothing more than a witch floating about the empty expanses of Wild Space and the Outer Rim, he would feel safe around her. But he knew the truth. As long as she did not drift too deep into the Mid Rim—or worse, pass through the Colonies into the Inner Rim—then the Jedi would remain ignorant to the return of the Sith Lords.

Yet whenever he glanced her way, Niem knew in his gut this 'Lord Gladiolus' would upset the galaxy. Coruscant would burn with her coming.

As long as I survive, all should be fine. I only need to live. I only need to live.

Darth Gladiolus settled into her quarters aboard Trigar. Niem Ganbohr's silly little fleet had jumped to hyperspace, heading for the same Ansion system she had been making for. From there, they would go their separate ways. Niem had business to attend to on Namadii. She did not doubt his claims about business there, but he had made a very pointed effort of masking his true intentions. She was impressed, even if his secrecy threatened to rile her.

For her part, Gladiolus would descend the Namadii Corridor to the Dorin system, where she would switch over to the Celanon Spur. That would take her straight to Ord Mantell. From all she had gathered, it was the central hub in the northern part of the Mid Rim. From there, she could either strike directly north or continue easterly into the Outer Rim. From what the charts showed, Sith Space was in the east, tucked away in a secluded corner. Yet one of the dark side presences in the Force drew her northerly, up into the regions controlled not by the Republic or any formal government, but by corporations, conglomerates, and bankers allied with the Senate.

I must remain mindful of the Jedi whenever I delve into Republic space, Gladiolus thought, almost weary of the fact she would need to skirt around her hated foe. They were a threat solely in number. At present, she had no desire to draw their attention her way. They had been deceived into believing the Sith extinct. She would not be the one to ruin that delusion. And while she knew that Niem held little love for the Jedi, he could gain by betraying her.

And so I will ensure he cannot betray me before we part ways, she decided. Gladiolus kneeled and slipped into a meditative trance, seeking out Niem's mind. He burned brightest aboard Trigar; he had not become the captain by mere chance. His presence in the Force spoke volumes about his surprisingly immense potential, even if he was not Force-sensitive. Yet he, like the rest, would bow before her. She would see to that.

Gladiolus took her time, poking and prodding at what mental defenses the pirate captain possessed. They were more robust than she expected from one lacking in Force-sensitivity, but they were not enough to thwart her efforts. She would sooner switch strategy than abandon her efforts to further influence him. A man of his nature was valuable, especially since she had gathered a great deal of information concerning the galactic slave trade through him. Those involved would perish, an ignored plea for mercy on their lips. Hutt Space would feel the full extent of her wrath; what fate she would deliver upon that abominable race of slugs had not been decided yet. Burning their homeworld to glass with nuclear weapons—atomics, as they were called beyond Earth—tempted her dearly. The image of a thousand suns igniting on that desolate world, setting everything ablaze, warmed her black heart.

But that was the future. She had neither the resources nor the support to undergo that brutal campaign. The Hutts maintained a strong fleet, even if it could not openly oppose what the Republic could cobble together if forced to. The knowledge the various worlds of the Republic maintained enough security and military force to challenge the Hutts alarmed her. They could challenge the Chiss if they knew of the blue-skinned race, though she suspected she had been kept in the dark about their full strength after their initial encounter at Kinoss. No point in revealing the full extent of their naval might to a strange interloper.

For now, Gladiolus would plot her venture to Ord Mantell and determine what she required from there. Supplies, yes, but also intelligence and updated maps. While what she acquired from the Chiss would prove useful, they did not possess the same charts and maps that the Republic would. Ord Mantell would be the prime location from which to retrieve any information she desired.

She settled into her meditation and focused on the dark side energies in the surrounding space, allowing her mind to drift just far enough to sense that which remained hidden from her.

"Have you sensed it, apprentice?" a Muun asked the human knelt before him. "The ripples, the wake left by her coming…"

"I sense it, master," the human said. He had grown under the Muun's tutelage. One day he would strike down his master. On that day, he would become the Sith Master. The Dark Lord of the Sith. "What do you have planned for her?"

"As of now? Nothing. She knows nothing of us, though not without attempts to learn of us. I do not believe she has sensed our powers, but then we have made so many inroads on Coruscant that not a single Jedi can detect the dark side's influence within either of us."

The apprentice nodded. He had witnessed Jedi speak with his master, completely unaware they aided the Dark Lord of the Sith as he worked toward their complete destruction. He embodied all the Jedi opposed, and yet they remained blind to his power. Had he not been taught the same tricks, he would have laughed at the failure. Instead, he found glee in exploiting the weakness and foolishness of the Jedi.

Damn this woman! She threatens to destroy everything we have worked toward!

When the apprentice had learned the Sith still lived and that they changed their methods following the destructive Seventh Battle of Ruusan, he had happily claimed his post as the apprentice. Familial blood may cover his hands, but the revenge of the Sith mattered more to the apprentice than those stupid, pathetic fools. Perhaps if they had not gotten in the way of his ambitions, he would not have killed them as he had.

They would have been dealt with eventually. There was never a true need to keep them around. It would have looked better for his civilian persona to have a large, caring family, but they had never been that. And so he severed their ties.

Permanently.

Still, the Sith had only been preparing for what he would accomplish. He and his master were the latest in a grand lineage that stretched back a thousand years. Ever since Darth Bane destroyed the false Sith Lords and their Jedi rivals at Ruusan, he had set into motion the complete destruction of the Jedi and their pitiful Republic. He crafted the Rule of Two through the wisdom of Darth Revan, turning the ambition and hunger of the Sith and the dark side toward productive ends. Never again would a Sith Master be destroyed by several apprentices, all lacking the strength necessary to inherit their master's title without assistance.

He would prove himself. Should this foreign Sith—Darth Gladiolus, as she declared for all to sense—prove useful toward the end of overthrowing his master, then Darth Sidious would make use of her. And once she proved a hindrance, he would dispose of her. He would not abide a disloyal apprentice, no matter what the Rule of Two demanded from him. After all, his master, Darth Plagueis, sought immortality. Neither would follow the traditional pattern of training an apprentice to destroy the master. Not when their revenge was close at hand.

The apprentice permitted himself a soft smile behind his master's back. In time, he would become the Sith Master. He would conquer the galaxy. It would be by his command. His actions would destroy everything the Jedi held dear and precious.

But the final victory of the Sith remained many years away. For now, he would continue in his façade as Sheev Palpatine, Senator of Naboo and an ally to the very Jedi he would destroy.

And the first stage of that plan shall begin soon. Very, very soon.