Into the Void: Star Wars (Dawn of the Jedi) (46 page)

After a crushing defeat in the Great Hyperspace War, the Emperor had risen up from
the tattered ranks of the remaining Sith Lords to lead his followers on a desperate
exodus to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. Fleeing the Republic armies and the
relentless revenge of the Jedi, they eventually resettled far beyond the borders of
Republic-charted space on their long-lost ancestral homeworld.

There, safely hidden from their enemies, the Sith
began to rebuild their Empire. Under the guidance of the Emperor—the immortal and
all-powerful savior who still reigned over them even after a thousand years—they abandoned
the hedonistic lifestyles of their barbaric ancestors.

Instead they created a near-perfect society in which the Imperial military operated
and controlled virtually every aspect of daily life. Farmers, mechanics, teachers,
cooks, janitors—all were part of the great martial machine, each individual a cog
trained to perform his or her duties with maximum discipline and efficiency. As a
result, the Sith had been able to conquer and enslave world after world in the unexplored
regions of the galaxy, until their power and influence rivaled those of their glorious
past.

Another burst of lightning split the sky, momentarily illuminating the massive citadel
that loomed over Kaas City. Built by slaves and devoted followers, the citadel served
as both palace and fortress, an unassailable meeting place for the Emperor and the
twelve handpicked Sith Lords who made up his Dark Council.

A decade earlier, when Scourge had first arrived on Dromund Kaas as a young apprentice,
he had vowed to one day set foot inside the citadel’s exclusive halls. Yet in all
his years of training at the Sith Academy on Kaas City’s borders, he had never been
granted the privilege. He had been one of the top students, marked by his superiors
for his strength in the Force and his fanatic devotion to the ways of the Sith. But
acolytes were not permitted inside the citadel; its secrets were reserved for those
in direct service to the Emperor and the Dark Council.

The dark side power emanating from within the building was undeniable; he had felt
the raw, crackling energy every day during his years as an acolyte. He had drawn on
it, focusing his mind and spirit to channel the power
through his own body to sustain him during the brutal training sessions.

Now, after almost two years away, he was back on Dromund Kaas. Standing on the landing
pad, he could once again feel the dark side deep inside his bones, the sizzling heat
more than compensating for the minor discomfort of the wind and rain. But he was no
longer a mere apprentice. Scourge had returned to the seat of Imperial power as a
full-fledged Sith Lord.

He had known this day would come eventually. After graduating from the Sith Academy
he had hoped for a posting on Dromund Kaas. Instead he had been sent to the fringes
of the Empire to help quell a series of minor rebellions on recently conquered worlds.
Scourge suspected the posting had been a punishment of some type. One of his instructors,
jealous of the star pupil’s potential, had probably recommended that he be stationed
as far from the seat of Imperial power as possible to slow his ascent to the upper
ranks of Sith society.

Unfortunately, Scourge had no proof to back his theory. Yet even exiled to the uncivilized
sectors on the farthest borders of the Empire, he had still managed to forge his reputation.
His martial skills and ruthless pursuit of the rebel leaders caught the notice of
several prominent military leaders. Now, two years after leaving the Academy, he had
returned to Dromund Kaas as a newly anointed Lord of the Sith. More important, he
was here at the personal request of Darth Nyriss, one of the most senior members of
the Emperor’s Dark Council.

“Lord Scourge,” a figure called out over the wind, running up to greet him. “I am
Sechel. Welcome to Dromund Kaas.”

“Welcome
back
,” Scourge corrected as the man dropped to one knee and bowed his head in a gesture
of respect. “This is not my first time on this world.”

Sechel’s hood was pulled up against the rain, covering his features, but during his
approach Scourge had noticed the red skin and dangling cheek tendrils that marked
him as a pureblood Sith, just like Lord Scourge himself. But while Scourge was an
imposing figure, tall and broad-shouldered, this man was small and slight. Reaching
out, Scourge sensed only the faintest hint of the Force in the other, and his features
twisted into a sneer of revulsion.

Unlike the humans that made up the bulk of the Empire’s population, the Sith species
were all blessed with the power of the Force to varying degrees. It marked them as
the elite; it elevated them above the lower ranks of Imperial society. And it was
a legacy that was fervently protected.

A pureblood born without any connection to the Force was an abomination; by custom
such a creature could not be suffered to live. During his time at the Academy, Lord
Scourge had encountered a handful of Sith whose power in the Force was noticeably
weak. Hampered by their failing, they relied on the influence of their high-ranking
families to find them postings as low-level aids or administrative officials at the
Academy, where their handicap would be least noticed. Spared from the lower castes
only by their pureblood heritage, in Scourge’s eyes they were barely better than slaves,
though he did have to admit that the more competent ones could have their uses.

But never before had he encountered one of his own kind with as feeble an attunement
to the Force as the man huddled at his feet. The fact that Darth Nyriss had sent someone
so vile and unworthy to greet him was unsettling. He’d expected a more substantial
and impressive welcome.

“Get up,” he snarled, making no effort to conceal his disgust.

Sechel quickly scrambled to his feet. “Darth Nyriss sends her apologies for not coming
to meet you personally,” he said quickly. “There have been several attempts on her
life recently, and she only leaves her palace under the rarest of circumstances.”

“I’m well aware of her situation,” Scourge replied.

“Y-yes, my lord,” Sechel stammered. “Of course. That’s why you’re here. Excuse my
stupidity.”

A crash of thunder nearly drowned out Sechel’s apology, heralding an increase in the
storm’s intensity. The driving rain started to come down in stinging sheets.

“Were your Master’s instructions to leave me standing here in this downpour until
I drowned?” Scourge demanded.

“F-forgive me, my lord. Please, follow me. We have a speeder waiting to take you to
the domicile.”

A short distance from the spaceport was a small landing pad. A constant stream of
hovercabs was landing and taking off—the preferred way for those of the lower ranks
who couldn’t afford their own speeder to traverse the city. As was typical at a busy
spaceport, a thick crowd surrounded the base of the landing pad. Those just arriving
quickly fell into the queues waiting to hire a driver, moving with the disciplined
precision that was the hallmark of Imperial society.

Of course, Lord Scourge had no need to step into the line. While some in the crowd
cast sharp glances at Sechel as he tried to force a path through, the throng quickly
parted upon catching sight of the towering figure behind him. Even with his hood drawn
against the rain, Scourge’s black cape, his spiked armor, his dark red complexion,
and the lightsaber prominently displayed at his side clearly marked him as a Sith
Lord.

The individuals in the crowd showed a wide variety of reactions to his presence. Many
were slaves or indentured servants out running errands for their masters;
they wisely kept their eyes fixed on the ground, careful not to make eye contact.
The Enlisted—the ranks of ordinary individuals conscripted into mandatory military
service—snapped smartly to attention, as if waiting for Scourge to inspect them as
he passed by.

The Subjugates—the caste of offworld merchants, traders, dignitaries, and visitors
from planets not yet granted full status in the Empire—stared with a mixture of wonder
and fear as they stepped quickly aside. Many of them bowed as a sign of respect. On
their homeworlds they might be rich and powerful, but here on Dromund Kaas they were
well aware that they ranked only slightly above the servants and slaves.

The only exception to the rule was a pair of humans, one male, the other female. Scourge
noticed them standing at the foot of the stairs leading up to the landing pad, stubbornly
holding their ground.

They were wearing expensive clothes—matching red pants and tops trimmed with white—and
both clearly wore light armor beneath their outfits. Dangling from the man’s shoulder
was a large assault rifle, and the woman had a blaster pistol strapped across each
hip. However, the two humans were clearly not part of the military, as neither displayed
the official Imperial insignia or any indication of rank on their garb.

It wasn’t unusual for Subjugate mercenaries from other worlds to visit Dromund Kaas.
Some came seeking profit, hiring their services out to the highest bidder; others
came to prove their value to the Empire in the hope of one day being granted the rare
privilege of full Imperial citizenship. But mercenaries typically reacted with deference
and humility when confronted with someone of Scourge’s rank.

By law, Scourge could have them imprisoned or executed for even a trifling offense.
Judging by their confrontational
behavior, they were blissfully unaware of this fact.

As the rest of the crowd parted, the mercenaries remained in place, staring defiantly
at Scourge as he approached. The Sith Lord bristled at the continued lack of respect.
Sechel must have felt it as well, because he quickly rushed ahead to confront the
pair.

Scourge didn’t slow his pace, but neither did he make a move to catch up with the
scurrying servant. At this distance, he couldn’t hear what was being said over the
wind and rain. But Sechel was speaking frantically, gesturing and waving his arms
while the humans stared at him with cold contempt. Finally, the woman nodded, and
the pair slowly moved out of the way. Satisfied, Sechel turned and waited for Scourge
to arrive.

“A thousand apologies, my lord,” he said as they mounted the steps. “Some Subjugates
lack a proper understanding of our customs.”

“Perhaps they need me to remind them of their place,” Scourge growled.

“If that is your wish, my lord,” Sechel said. “However, I must remind you that Darth
Nyriss is expecting you.”

Scourge decided to let the matter drop. They climbed into the waiting speeder; Sechel
at the controls. Scourge settled into the luxurious seat, pleased to note that the
vehicle had a roof—many of the hovercabs were open to the elements. The engines engaged,
and they rose to a height of ten meters before the speeder accelerated, leaving the
spaceport behind.

They rode in silence, drawing ever closer to the massive citadel that stood at the
heart of Kaas City. But Scourge knew this was not their destination today. Like every
member of the Dark Council, Darth Nyriss was allowed access to the Emperor’s citadel.
In the wake of two recent assassination attempts, however, Scourge
fully expected her to stay within the walls of the personal stronghold she maintained
on the outskirts of Kaas City, surrounded by her most trusted staff and servants.

This didn’t strike Scourge as cowardly in any way; Nyriss was simply being practical.
Like any high-ranking Sith, she had many enemies. Until she discovered who was behind
the assassination attempts, exposing herself unnecessarily was a foolish and unwarranted
risk.

Yet her practicality had to be balanced against the understanding that her rank was
based solely on strength. If Nyriss appeared weak or ineffective—if she was unable
to take firm and decisive action against whoever was plotting her death—others would
sense it. Rivals both off and on the Dark Council would prey on her situation, leveraging
her vulnerable position to their own advantage. Darth Nyriss would not be the first
of the Emperor’s inner circle to lose her life.

That was why Scourge was here. To root out the secret masterminds behind the assassinations,
and destroy them.

Given the importance of his mission, he couldn’t understand why Nyriss hadn’t sent
a full honor guard to escort him through the city. She should want everyone to know
of his arrival. He was proof that steps were being taken to solve her problem; a warning
to any other rivals who might be emboldened by the recent attempts on her life. Keeping
his arrival almost secret served no purpose … at least none Scourge could see.

They passed by the Emperor’s citadel and made their way to the western edge of the
city. After several more minutes, Scourge felt the speeder begin to slow as Sechel
brought it in for a landing.

“We’re here, my lord,” Sechel said as the vehicle touched down.

They were in a large courtyard. High stone walls stood to the north and south. The
east end was open to
the street; the west was bordered by what Scourge assumed was Darth Nyriss’s stronghold.
In many ways the building resembled the Emperor’s citadel, though on a significantly
smaller scale. The architectural similarities were more than just an homage to the
Emperor. Like his citadel, this building would serve both as Nyriss’s dwelling and
as a fortress she could fall back to in times of trouble, and it had been designed
to be simultaneously ornate, imposing, and easily defensible.

The courtyard itself was populated by half a dozen large statues, each several meters
wide at the base and easily twice as tall as Scourge. The two largest depicted humanoids
in Sith robes—a male and a female. They stood with their arms raised slightly forward,
their hands palms up. The man’s face was hidden by a hood—the common depiction of
the Emperor. The woman had her hood thrown back to reveal fierce Sith features; if
the sculptor’s work was accurate, Scourge knew this was his first glimpse of what
Darth Nyriss actually looked like.