"He shamelessly took my power when he needed it, but ignored my guidance entirely. His past life clouded his mind. And then I betrayed him. No body is ready to absorb my might, so I began transforming his. Each time he used my power, I strengthened his body, preparing to seize it. But I underestimated the hatred my own family bore for me. Narrow-minded and soft-bodied, they could not understand the depth of my designs. Using a holocron with which I tortured my father's spirit, they split me across the galaxy, feasting on my bones."
"Nice family," I admitted. The ghost acted as if he hadn't heard.
"I waited thousands of years," Valkorion sighed. "I drew the dark side out of this world. Prepared. Waited. The descendants of my trusted servants—Nathema zealots—secretly pushed this galaxy in the direction I needed, hidden from Jedi and Sith. And then, one day, Rik Dougan was born. Billions of variables had to align so that he would stand at my side and guide this galaxy into the future. But the Jedi took my creation from me. They killed my servants, the last zealots, took the child to the Temple, where they broke his will. They wanted to create a Jedi shadow out of him, and gave him to train under the one who brought him to the Temple. And even after my child returned to me, Rik proved unable to carry out his mission. He gave himself entirely to Jedi teachings. Even on the verge of death he refused to accept his fate. One-sided, with the habits of a dark Jedi, he could do more harm to my cause than good. His fate was sealed the moment he turned to the Light in the Geonosis arena. The light side could not protect him from blasters."
Valkorion fell silent. Strangely, I felt a flicker of sympathy for the ghost. Planning to make the galaxy stronger in his own image, he'd been killed, betrayed, unmade more than once. Not by a road of yellow bricks, but by bones and oceans of blood—he still intended to lead the galaxy to greatness. Of course he needed a loyal partner. A direct continuation of his will.
If the zealots had lived, he might have continued his work with them—but the Shadows had killed them all.
"Through the Abyss, I sensed your mind," Valkorion's voice sounded again. "I see your potential and your drive. I gave you the chance to move forward, to prove your usefulness. And you did it. Without hesitation you ended the life of one who could become an obstacle in the future. Without regret you absorbed one who would not have spared you. But you did not destroy the one who may still be useful. You are worthy to rule this galaxy," Valkorion finally said, turning his head toward me.
To be honest, it floored me.
There's no other way to put it.
No, it was clear the Emperor was playing his own game—one that ran counter to the plans of both the Jedi Order and the Sith. It was clear that for some reason I mattered to him. Even his twisted test of my abilities made sense in its own way.
Remembering his words about teacher and apprentice "fixing the galaxy," spoken aboard the gunship on Geonosis, there were no illusions about my role. Like, take out the trash, empty the Emperor's bedpan.
A Jedi errand boy. Can you expect more when you've been in the galaxy for less than a year?
Well. You can. You can expect something. But not this.
To learn that a man who built two Sith Empires was ready to build a third—and intended to set me on its throne…
Fate did not prepare me for that.
"Why me? You…" repeating my question, I faltered. It just happened on its own. Conscience wouldn't let me address him as "you" anymore. "You have immense experience ruling. Why don't you take the throne yourself? You, more than anyone, understand what rulership is. Your experience is priceless…"
"Neither Jedi nor Sith can ever be destroyed completely," Valkorion said. "Even now, that little monkey in the Senate and his aristocrat acolyte think themselves true Sith, knowing nothing of my brethren on Kesh. My figure on the throne would only ignite civil war, as would Palpatine's. The Sith would strive to serve me, the Jedi to destroy me. That is their nature. But you are different…"
"I don't understand," and here I felt genuinely ashamed. They want to make me a ruler of a new state, and I have no idea how that even works. Had Valkorion overestimated me? "How could I possibly surpass you?"
"At the beginning of the Mandalorian Wars, the Jedi were despised. The Republic stood on the brink when Revan tore victory from defeat. By an act of will he crushed the Mandalorians and broke their spine forever. Until the end of time, the Mandalorians will never again reach the greatness of their ancestors. But what matters is something else," Valkorion leaned toward me slightly, clenching a hand into a fist. "Revan became an icon. He was revered. Republic citizens followed him into the Unknown Regions without hesitation. An entire fleet of supporters. Many Jedi. Even when he ordered them to kill their brothers, they obeyed. When Arcann captured the Outlander, his name became the symbol of the Alliance. Its soul. His reputation drew people to the Alliance's side. Even the Hutts, who don't give a damn about anyone, helped him. His inner strength let him break Arcann's will and burn the dark side out of him. Envious and shallow, Arcann fell into the Light. Even at the cost of losing part of his own abilities, he remained loyal to the Outlander until death. Revan, the Outlander, and the Hero of Tython built their fame themselves. And people followed them through the crucible of wars."
"We use the Clone Wars to create our own supporters," I understood.
Valkorion smiled. His smile resembled the grin of a corpse, and gooseflesh ran down my spine.
"Victory after victory, you will become an icon to them. A god in the flesh," he said. "Saved worlds will fall at your feet, and their inhabitants will pack recruitment offices, eager to join your army. Ruthless to enemies, humane to allies, you will become the new hero of the era. And when the time comes, you will reveal the truth. The manipulator of the war at the head of the Republic. A venal and corrupt Senate. An inert Order. Sentients' hearts will fill with righteous wrath. They will carry you into the Senate on their backs. Together—with your potential and my knowledge—we will rip the heart from the Baneite scum's chest and bathe in his blood," Valkorion's eyes burned with mad fire. Warming with every word, he wrapped himself in the dark side of the Force. By even the most modest estimate, if he let it run free right now, everything living on the moon's surface would die. "We will create a new Empire without corruption and bureaucracy. We will create an Order without arrogant, priggish ignoramuses. We will create a society that will stop treading water!"
I felt Darkness roiling around us—so impenetrable the light side didn't show even the faintest hints. But it didn't frighten me. I accepted the Darkness. I opened myself to it. I gathered it within myself, mixed it with the Light, drawing out unimaginable power. And I liked it.
I saw my path in this galaxy. I understood my goals. The future stood before me—too blurred, but unmistakably clear.
Hammerheads and Rendili StarDrive "Dissectors" flew flags the galaxy had never seen before. Armadas from deep within the Unknown Regions flooded into the galaxy, sweeping aside or capturing Republic and CIS ships. Dozens of gifted adepts stood at the heads of those armies. Familiar faces flashed, replaced by unfamiliar ones… but all of them drew power from the Unifying Force. Grim resolve, chained by necessity, made them raise weapons against yesterday's brothers of the Order…
The vision broke. The glimpse of the future stunned me. Valkorion's plan would succeed. Though I didn't see the final outcome, there was no doubt.
"You will create a new state on the ruins of the Republic and the Confederacy. The Eternal Empire," Valkorion said. The cyclone of Darkness around him sharply died down, as if he had cut off its nourishment. "Led by the Eternal Emperor."
"I… I saw it, Master," I said, my voice trembling with awe. Stupor, shock, delight—everything surged within me, boiling with fierce passion. Without noticing how, I found myself kneeling before Vitiate.
"I swear loyalty to your teachings," the words fell from my lips by themselves.
"I accept your loyalty," Valkorion proclaimed. Raising his hands, he flooded the Great Audience Chamber with a Lightning Storm. Branching streams of Force melted stone like putty. Standing in the center of the Storm, I felt the Temple walls fill with power, creating a Force aura within them. Like a signature, it carried Valkorion's personal shade. The Emperor marked the Temple, claimed it, spat into the Abyss, and trampled those who had built this Temple and the others on Yavin 4 in their own honor. Naga Sadow. Exar Kun. Tenebrae defiled their memory, showing the failures their place in the food chain.
"Rise, my apprentice," the Emperor put special emphasis on the last word. "From this day forward, this world is ours."
***
A sharp spike of the dark side caught Republic Chancellor Sheev Palpatine in his hidden sanctuary.
The man listened to his senses with curiosity. Pure, unbridled dark side power was emanating from the Unknown Regions. Someone very powerful had announced themselves. But the surge was so brief it didn't allow the Sith to trace it.
Darth Sidious leaned back wearily in his chair. The secret base, created in an industrial, sparsely populated part of the city, ensured his security. Neither the Jedi nor the Separatists knew his true identity, and none suspected he stood behind the beginning of the Clone Wars.
Only in his hidden sanctuaries, which reliably screened the Force within, could he open himself to the Force without fear of being detected by the Jedi. Each time—wrapping himself in the Force that concealed his true nature, meeting Jedi and senators, shaking hands and holding briefings—he couldn't help gloating as he watched the Jedi attempt to uncover the identity of Darth Sidious, about whom Count Dooku had informed a representative of the Order.
From an early age, Palpatine understood he was different from his peers. An unknown power boiled inside him; drawing on it made him stronger, smarter, better than the others. He managed to deceive the Order's seekers by hiding his Force potential. He understood his fate would be different. He would not serve. He would rule.
His family irritated him with their inertia. His father could not—or would not—increase the family's wealth and political capital, despite being among Naboo's prominent aristocrats. His mother followed him submissively in his blindness. Only Sheev, driven by ambition and inner power, desired greatness.
And the Force gave him a Master. The Muun Hego Damask. Darth Plagueis, Dark Lord of the Sith. He saw enormous potential in the boy. The youth accepted with joy and awe to become his apprentice. All that remained was to cross the line—the one that would give him to the dark side forever.
He killed them all. His entire family. At seventeen, Palpatine became a cold-blooded murderer, slaughtering his whole bloodline.
Becoming Plagueis's apprentice, Sidious devoted himself entirely to the dark side of the Force. He studied Sith history, absorbing the tenets of the ancient Order. Plagueis did not allow him to relax for a single second. Sith teaching broke a person, humiliated him, stripped away everything he valued. Plagueis took everything from him. And in return he opened the secrets of the dark side.
The destruction of the Jedi, the subjugation of the galaxy—this was the goal of all the suffering he endured for thirty years. The Sith had evolved. They stepped into the future, abandoning open confrontation with the Jedi. Cunning—that was the weapon of the Baneite Sith. The Republic would fall, struck from within. The Jedi would die trying to save it. And on the ruins of the old world would rise an Empire destined to last thousands of years.
Plagueis controlled not only the Sith's centuries-old accumulations of wealth and knowledge, but also commanded vast banker capital. The Muun threw every available resource into implementing the Plan.
And, of course, his Master betrayed him, Palpatine.
In secret from Sidious, Plagueis began probing the secrets of immortality. Forgotten and forbidden Sith and Jedi knowledge became the object of his study. Palpatine didn't know exactly when his Master became obsessed with the idea, but he saw the results of those attempts.
Anakin Skywalker. The Chosen One, created by the Force itself. Raised by the Jedi, yet not bound by their dogma. And often listening to the advice of his friend—the Republic Chancellor.
Palpatine killed Plagueis without hesitation while he slept, and claimed all his works. There was no guilt, no agonizing.
The Sith way was betrayal.
Sidious bound together every resource available to the Sith, every cult and every follower. Holding contempt for other species, he still allowed them to aid in carrying out his Plan.
Only a few were initiated into Palpatine's true designs. Sly Moore—an Umbaran capable of penetrating the minds of living sentients. Vice Chair Mas Amedda, who had no extraordinary abilities but was a loyal political ally. Sate Pestage. Kinman Doriana. Count Dooku.
Palpatine was slowly but surely plunging the galaxy into chaos. With ease, manipulating the invasion of Naboo and Valorum's resignation, he moved toward his goal.
The Prophets, living on the ancient Sith world of Dromund Kaas, had warned him. An invasion from beyond was coming. A Force-blind species planned to invade. Their ideals were beyond understanding. Negotiations were pointless. They could only be destroyed. But the Republic was too weak for that.
The Force does not grant clear timing in its visions. Therefore, the Plan demanded maximum speed.
Darth Maul fell on Naboo. It was on his homeworld that Sidious first noticed Skywalker.
In the years since, he had been bending the boy toward the dark side, marveling at his potential and sensitivity to the Force. It was still too early to reveal himself to him. Palpatine waited.
But he needed a successor. An executor of his will. One who would be a red rag to the Jedi, so that chasing him would distract them.
Count Dooku became that very successor. Palpatine could not help but be amused by how easily Dooku misled his friend Sifo-Dyas, with whose help he created the clone army. And how easily he disposed of that former friend. Jedi…
It couldn't be denied: Dooku was excessively useful. He found many puppets who, like chained beasts, eagerly rushed to smash the Republic and the Jedi. Grievous. Ventress. Tyranus reported Jedi who had taken interest in the dark side.
The Count had witnessed with his own eyes how one Jedi at the Petranaki Arena released the dark side, crippling hundreds of battle droids. Force Destruction. A technique so ancient, so dangerous, as it was powerful. Was it possible that one of the Jedi had fallen to the dark side on Geonosis? Most likely. And if so, Dooku would find him—and the army of dark followers would gain a new recruit.
Palpatine had not forgotten the incident with that Jedi; he had only let it slip from his attention for a short time. Now, with the dark side's manifestation in the Unknown Regions, it was necessary to gather information about the possible fallen. But it had to be done in secret. He drew his cloak around himself, letting the hood cover his face.
"Darth Tyranus," he contacted his apprentice through a holoterminal. "Did you sense the dark side surge in the Unknown Regions?"
The elderly Count gave a short nod.
"Yes, my Master."
"We must identify the source," Palpatine smiled. "Nothing may interfere with our Plan."
"As you command, my Master," Dooku inclined his head in respect. Satisfied, Palpatine cut the transmission.
Having shifted the problem onto his apprentice's shoulders, he returned to studying reports from the fronts.