Chapter 25: Conclusion

"Aaaaaagh!"

A crimson blade bit deep into the control panel, leaving scorched furrows in the console. Metal groaned piteously, buckled by the sheer pressure of the Force radiating into every corner of the room.

The twisted, crushed mess of wires and transparisteel was unrecognizable as the droid that had transmitted the final logs from the Trial grounds. A pair of Priestesses arriving to report on the new batch of infants didn't even reach the threshold; sensing the atmosphere, they wisely turned and hurried in the opposite direction.

The Director was in a state of primal, unbridled fury.

Hardly a single object in the hall remained intact. Everything had been crumpled, cleaved, or pulverized.

How?! How could it have gone so wrong? That idiot had everything: the intel, the power, the resources, the loyalists. How did a street-scum brat and a reject of the Jedi Order manage to sabotage years of meticulous strategy? It had all gone to ash.

He should have killed those freaks back on the station.

No... Palpatine would have noticed the disappearance of two promising acolytes. He had already voiced his displeasure regarding the high attrition rate during the orbital training.

Curse it all! The Director thought of the effort it took to push the Trial project through, how long he had spent "cultivating" that fool in the tattered robes just to get him to agree to the proposal.

Everything had been prepared: a specific location from his private archives that no one else knew, detailed topographical maps, and loyal men who had pre-staged supply containers in spots virtually impossible to find by accident.

With every possible resource at his disposal, that moron had still failed the mission!

Granted, there were miscalculations. But who could have predicted that the Grand Inquisitor would offer a counter-proposal that the Emperor would approve almost instantly?

The Director slumped into the only surviving chair and closed his eyes.

Now, he had barely five truly loyal students left. They were competent enough, having survived the bloodbath on the bridge, but their potential was mediocre at best. It was unlikely any of them would become Inquisitors capable of catching the Emperor's eye.

Arrogant bastard. Because of these shadow games, the Director would be stuck in this position for several more years, nursing a new brood of whelps.

Still, that Twi'lek girl... she lacked raw talent, but with the right conditioning, she could be useful. He would have to devote significantly more attention to her.

Yes. He needed to calm himself and recalibrate. Perhaps all was not lost. He would need to sway a few new adepts from the upcoming intake, ideally someone clever who had actually passed the Trial.

Damnation. It was a pity he couldn't use the Force to simply rewrite their minds. Mistakes were not an option now; if anything else went sideways, the price would be steep.

He would have to postpone the experiments into absolute mental conditioning for at least two years. It was a shame Count Dooku had never appreciated the full potential of that research.

It was a pity the Separatists had lost the conflict; life would have been much more "comfortable" under their rule.

He shook the thought away. He had to focus on the here and now. The summit of Imperial power would be his, it was only a matter of time.

******

"You have found an interesting specimen, Grand Inquisitor."

"I thank you, My Lord."

"See to his training personally. Watch him closely. He must be under our absolute control."

The Jedi hunter fought to suppress the dark satisfaction swelling within him. Everything had gone even better than he had calculated. He had planned for his apprentice’s ascension, but not one this rapid. The Director's Trial, which had initially been an unwelcome surprise, had played right into his hands.

"Do not worry, my Emperor. I personally 'processed' the student as soon as I discovered him. He is unconditionally devoted to you. Repeated intervention might damage his mind, which has already endured significant strain. However, if you wish, we could employ—"

"Enough. I know the alternatives far better than you, Inquisitor. If you handled the procedure personally, then for now, it shall suffice. But remember: the Force occasionally grants unpleasant surprises. The remnants of the Jedi Order prowl the galaxy, hoping to rebuild. We cannot allow them to seize such a valuable resource. Watch the child. We have already lost too many promising acolytes. Are you certain there were no survivors left on the island?"

"Yes, My Lord. Every student carried a transponder. That is how we located those who had crawled into the island's burrows. As you know, the bracers were specifically treated by the Priestesses' magic, making the device virtually a part of the acolyte. The children are not yet capable of overcoming that suggestion."

"Very well. Then let us conclude the matter of the Trial; I am satisfied with the results. To the next matter: what have you discovered regarding the recent incidents?"

The Grand Inquisitor's face twitched almost imperceptibly. Recent attacks on convoys carrying heavy mining equipment for a top-secret project had dealt a painful blow to the Empire's covert transport network. Shipping costs had spiked due to increased security requirements, and several routes had to be blocked, further slowing the process.

The state of the battlefields was troubling. Someone had simply arrived, literally swept away the security, taken the cargo, and vanished into the void. No tracks, no bodies left behind. Camera feeds and flight logs were systematically purged. Only a pair of blasters, missed during the cleanup, provided any clue.

"We are actively checking all remaining pockets of Separatist resistance, as well as the black market and Hutt Space. Every possible source for the E-5 blasters found."

"And the results?"

"We discovered one mercenary outfit in Hutt Space utilizing reprogrammed B1 and B2 droids, but they are too small-scale. The Hutts wouldn't risk souring relations with us, they have enough problems of their own. A power struggle between the families is currently in full swing and…"

"I am aware of that. Is there anything else?"

"Separatist remnants are being suppressed by our forces; they lack the strength for such an operation. We've ruled out partisan cells, as they lack the necessary capital ships. To wipe out a convoy requires an impressive fleet, and most rebel sector ships are either pinned down or already destroyed and sent to Bracca."

It was too clean for pirates or mercenaries. They rarely covered their tracks so thoroughly. Furthermore, the Imperial Security Bureau is currently conducting a massive purge under the Emperor's directive. As for private planetary armies, they are too terrified to leave their systems, clinging to what little power they have left.

"Continue your search. I expect results, Grand Inquisitor. ISB officers will be assigned to assist you. You may involve other Inquisitors at your discretion."

"As you command, my Emperor."

"And one last thing: I expect a report on your new apprentice’s progress. I shall find his development... most interesting."

******

The Imperial ship vanished into hyperspace, carrying away the larvae of the future Inquisitorius—children who would surely become a massive problem down the line.

Finally, the week-long wait in orbit was over. His patience had been fraying, but the moment had arrived. Another stage of his plan was nearing completion.

Perhaps he should have slaughtered them all here? No. That would have brought Vader, the Emperor’s lapdog, down upon him. He had seen what that Sith Lord was capable of; he needed to be better prepared for such an encounter. Even if he defeated the apprentice, Palpatine would simply find a new one, as he always did.

It was too early for open confrontation. Let them think him dead or missing—some broken thing shivering in a dark corner, losing his mind. It would not be so. He would act step by step. Patience was one of the few lessons life had managed to beat into him.

Ensuring the system was clear, the figure in the baggy black clothing brought his ship out of stealth mode. The cloaking system had cost him a fortune, but it was worth every credit. When you are being hunted by the most powerful being in the galaxy, caution is never a luxury. His illegal enterprises had recouped the costs quickly enough.

Besides, the prize was worth it. This temple held the location of a great Sith weapon on Malachor. The chance to hasten his revenge against Sidious was worth any risk. Currently, he was like a cornered rat, forced to surround himself with riff-raff and hide his face, but with that weapon, everything would change.

His fingers gripped the flight stick, leaving small indentations in the material.

The ship descended through dense, reddish clouds. The instruments began to glitch, but he didn't need them. The Force provided the true path through the treacherous atmosphere.

Once low enough for his sensors to stabilize, he ran a safety sweep. If anyone remained on the island, he would have to kill them or retreat.

A scan result blinked on the console.

His yellow, bloodshot eyes widened slightly. He had expected to see groups of predators moving along the coast. The Darkness coiling around the temple created a shroud that only those with iron wills, or those who were completely broken, could penetrate. He had expected to see the scattered remains of Imperial activity.

But there, almost exactly in the center of the invisible dome covering the island, was a tiny point of life.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Diving the ship almost vertically, the pilot leveled out at the last second and settled the craft atop two adjacent stone peaks. With a hiss, the ramp lowered over a fifty-meter drop. According to the scanner, someone was at the bottom of the ravine.

A jump from such a height was nothing for the ship's owner. He landed softly, making no sound other than the slight flutter of his wide robes. In the gloom of the massive fissure that had split the monolith, he was nearly invisible.

The Force guided him toward a flickering aura of life that pulsed and then faded, on the verge of extinguishing.

Against one of the walls lay a small, broken body. Long, matted hair fell past the child's shoulders. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air. Her clothes were mere rags. Near the body lay an empty container that still smelled faintly of citrus.

One leg was twisted at an unnatural angle. One hand gripped a lightsaber hilt with a death-grip. The other arm ended in a stump at the mid-forearm; the remains of a useless bracer lay nearby.

As he approached, he heard her raspy breathing, a whistling sound, as if she were breathing through a tube.

Her eyes were closed, but her pupils darted beneath her eyelids as if she were trapped in a nightmare.

"How ironic," he said, his voice a low hiss. "You cling to life until the very end, yet no one came for you. You were simply forgotten. Discarded like a used tool."

He thought he had spoken softly, but her eyelashes flickered. She looked up at him with two eyes that had once been green, but were now so bloodshot and bruised they looked as sinister as his own.

"Go to hell..." The words were a struggle. "Keep talking... trash... and I'll curse you."

As if to punctuate her threat, a faint wisp of green mist flickered between her fingers before vanishing. The girl collapsed into a fit of coughing.

"Fascinating. Ha... most fascinating. I did not expect to find a Sister of the Night here. I believe I owe them a small debt. Ha... yes, a small one. Tell me, do you want my help? You could survive. A tempting offer, is it not?"

He could see in her eyes that she still believed in something, that someone would come, that she would be rescued. The typical mistake of those who trust anyone but themselves.

"They abandoned you, just as they abandoned me! They betrayed you!" He didn't need to raise his voice; the ancient, buried malice he felt for his own betrayers infused every syllable. "There is no one left to help you. But I was pulled from my hole. I was given a new chance. You can be of use to me, and I to you."

He felt her beginning to accept the reality. She was truly alone on the island. Even those she trusted had left her. No one was coming.

"I see you understand. Your talents will serve me, and I will help you live. It will be a profitable arrangement. Yes... I see it..." He squinted as if viewing a distant future. "You will serve me as my new apprentice. Together, we shall surpass the Emperor himself and stand at the head of a new order. Will you join me?"

The girl closed her eyes. Time seemed to stop for her. Thoughts raced through her mind, leaving nothing but rage, a thirst for vengeance, and a desperate will to live. No, she would not die here!

A thought flared like a star, the conviction that had kept her going.

This is a rebellion against the Emperor. No, I must wait. He wouldn't abandon his faithful followers. Never.

But then I will die. No one is coming. The ships... I saw them leave. No one came down. This must be the Emperor's plan! I must survive! Wait! Live! Emperor!

She writhed as if in a fever. The stranger watched intently but did not interfere. Suddenly, the girl slammed her head against the sharp edge of one of the many stones.

A deathly silence hung in the air for several seconds. Not even the sound of her raspy breathing remained.

Then, she spoke.

"Yes. I will be your apprentice."

Two glowing, dark-gold eyes looked back at him.

A predatory grin spread across the stranger's face, making him look even more terrifying than usual. His plan had gained a vital new element. The gears of fate began to turn with renewed speed.