The Old Republic Series

by Sean Williams

  The Emperor was the only Sith on all of Dromund Kaas with the will to take the kind of quick and decisive action required. Convincing him that Nyriss was a traitor would be simple enough with the files he’d acquired from Sechel. The trick was making the Emperor believe Scourge had been an unknowing pawn in her plans.

  T3 had doctored the data disks, removing all evidence of Scourge’s part in the conspiracy. Scourge would claim that he came forward as soon as he learned of the plot … but there was no guarantee the Emperor would believe him.

  Scourge was going to present the evidence in person. If the Emperor suspected he was lying—or if he was simply powerful enough to see the truth—escape would be impossible. He was putting himself at great risk for the sake of the cause—something he never would have considered before he met Revan.

  At the top of the stairs he was stopped by a pair of Sith soldiers clad in red armor—two of the famed Imperial Guard. An army of elite warriors, the Imperial Guard underwent months of brutal training to transform them into the most disciplined and deadly troops in the Empire. Many didn’t survive, but those who did emerged as fanatically loyal zealots willing to sacrifice their lives to defend the Emperor.

  “State your business,” one of the guards said, barring his way with a heavy electrostaff.

  “I must see the Emperor immediately.”

  He hadn’t known what kind of reaction his bold statement would produce—mocking laughter or flat refusal were the most likely options.

  “Only those on the Dark Council can speak with the Emperor,” the second soldier told him, her tone curt and official.

  “My name is Lord Scourge; I serve Darth Nyriss. I am here on her behalf.”

  The soldiers looked at each other, and he sensed their uncertainty.

  “The Emperor is in danger,” Scourge insisted. “I must speak with him.”

  “Wait here,” the male guard told him.

  He disappeared inside the Citadel and didn’t return for several minutes. The entire time passed in silence; the remaining guard saw no reason to speak to Scourge, and he knew better than to say anything more to her. Simple lies were the most effective, and Scourge had no intention of saying anything more than was absolutely necessary.

  When the first soldier emerged, he was accompanied by four more of his comrades. All were Sith, and three wore uniforms identical to those of the guards stationed at the door. The fourth was also clad in red armor, but her outfit was more elaborate.

  “I am Captain Yarri,” she told him. “Come with me.”

  They left the original two guards behind as she led him into the citadel. She walked in front of him, while two of the newcomers flanked him. The fourth fell into line directly behind him so that he was completely surrounded.

  The design of the citadel reminded Scourge of Nyriss’s stronghold; not surprising, given that she had built her edifice in the same style to honor the Emperor. The interior was a virtual maze of corridors with gray and forbidding stone walls, punctuated by heavy wooden doors leading off to antechambers and side rooms.

  However, where Nyriss lined the halls with statues, busts, and wall hangings glorifying her reputation and achievements, the decor of the citadel was far more utilitarian. Statues were few and far between, and the few splashes of color in the scattered wall hangings were muted by the dim lighting that cast everything in shadow.

  “You are taking me to the Emperor?” Scourge asked.

  “You may speak with one of the Emperor’s advisers.”

  “Unacceptable. I did not come to meet with a servant.”

  “The choice is not yours to make,” Captain Yarri replied brusquely.

  Scourge stopped in his tracks, causing the soldier walking behind to stumble into him. The Sith Lord angrily shoved him back. In response, the two guards who had been at his side whipped out their electrostaffs.

  “Stop!” Captain Yarri shouted, and they froze in their tracks.

  “I am a Lord of the Sith,” Scourge reminded him. “And an agent of Darth Nyriss. I order you to take me to the Emperor.”

  “That is not permitted.”

  “These are exceptional circumstances.”

  “How so?”

  “That is for the Emperor’s ears alone. I must speak to him in person.”

  “The Emperor does not like to be disturbed.”

  “He will want to hear what I have to say.”

  “If he feels you’ve wasted his time, you will be punished,” the captain warned.

  The calm, almost casual way she spoke the simple threat was far more effective than providing gruesome details. But Scourge wasn’t about to back down now.

  “It will not be a waste of his time.”

  The captain considered the request, then nodded. “As you wish.”

  As she led him down the twisting corridors of the citadel, Scourge made a mental note of their path. When he and Revan finally struck at the Emperor, they would need to know as much of the layout of the citadel as possible.

  Eventually they turned down a hall that terminated at a pair of large durasteel doors.

  “The throne room lies beyond,” Captain Yarri told him. “There you will find the Emperor.” She turned to face him. “I will give you one last chance to reconsider.”

  “I’ve made my decision.”

  “Then you must proceed alone. I will not violate the sanctity of the throne room.”

  She motioned with her hand, and two of the soldiers stepped forward, one by each of the massive doors. Grunting with exertion, they pushed the doors inward; then they stepped to the side, standing at attention with their backs against the wall just outside the throne room’s now-open entrance.

  Scourge expected them to search him, or at least instruct him to turn over his weapons. But Yarri and the others simply stood at attention, waiting for him to enter. The fact that they showed no concern over letting an armed Sith Lord speak to the Emperor face-to-face without any kind of preparation was a testament to the Emperor’s unfathomable power.

  Thinking about that power gave Scourge pause. Like Revan, the Emperor understood the Force in ways Scourge never would. It was possible he experienced the same kinds of visions as the Jedi; it was also possible he could peer into Scourge’s mind and instantly know the truth of everything he was saying. Meeting him face-to-face could be tantamount to suicide.

  No, Scourge thought. If that were the case, he would have sensed Nyriss’s betrayal long ago.

  As powerful as the Emperor might be, he was not omniscient. He was, however, intelligent and cunning enough to have held on to his throne for over a thousand years—an unprecedented reign among the conniving and cutthroat politics of the Sith. Which meant Scourge would have to be very careful not to say anything that might give him away.

  Captain Yarri and the other guards were still patiently waiting. No doubt they were used to seeing this kind of hesitation in those who were about to meet with the Emperor.

  Steeling himself, Scourge stepped inside.

  The throne room was enormous: twenty meters wide and at least forty meters long, with an arched ceiling that rose fifteen meters above. Apart from the throne at the far end, it was virtually empty.

  The throne sat on an elevated circular pedestal, several meters in diameter. As Scourge walked forward, he noticed that the throne was facing away from him, its high back effectively blocking any view of its occupant.

  After a few more steps, the pedestal swiveled around, turning the throne so that it faced him. And for the first time in his life, Scourge set eyes upon the Emperor.

  The figure before him appeared unremarkable. The Emperor was clad in unadorned black robes, the raised hood effectively hiding his face. Yet Scourge could feel the power of the dark side emanating from him with such intensity that it caused a faint rippling of the air.

  The Emperor rose to his feet, and the durasteel doors swung shut behind Scourge with a booming crash. Scourge’s step faltered briefly at the sound, but he continued for
ward.

  As he reached the foot of the pedestal he dropped to one knee, bowing low, his eyes focused on a spot on the ground in front of him.

  “Rise, Lord Scourge,” the Emperor told him, “and speak your piece.”

  Scourge stood up to address the Sith looming above him. The Emperor had thrown back his hood to reveal his face; his eyes were as black as the Void itself.

  Staring into the hollow darkness of the Emperor’s gaze, Scourge’s mind flashed back to Nathema, and he shivered at the memory.

  He tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. His mouth was suddenly so dry he felt as if he might choke. He swallowed hard and coughed, finally bringing up enough saliva to talk.

  “Three years ago I went to serve Darth Nyriss at your request,” Scourge began. “I discovered that Darth Xedrix was a traitor. He had allied himself with separatists to kill Nyriss, and I executed him for his crimes.”

  “Your service has been noted,” the Emperor assured him.

  There was something strange about the Emperor’s voice. It didn’t sound like the voice of a single being. It had an unusual echo and resonance, almost as if a great multitude were speaking his words in perfect symphony.

  A grim theory passed unbidden through Scourge’s mind: was it possible all those that had been consumed by the ritual on Nathema still existed in some form within the Emperor himself? Nyriss said he’d devoured them, but what if she was only partially correct? What if he had imprisoned their spirits inside his own corporeal form, slowly feeding on their life energy over a thousand years to keep himself young and strong?

  Scourge pushed such thoughts away; he needed to focus. One wrong word and the Emperor might see through his lies.

  “I continued to serve Darth Nyriss after Xedrix’s death,” Scourge explained. “And I continued to investigate the separatists.”

  He paused, waiting for the Emperor to ask what he’d found. After a few seconds he realized the inquiry was not coming.

  “I became suspicious of one of Nyriss’s advisers, a man named Sechel. I turned the focus of my investigation to him. But Sechel was careful; he covered his tracks well. It took me until yesterday before I was certain of his guilt. He was also secretly working with the separatists, and he suffered the same fate as Xedrix.”

  “You should speak to Darth Nyriss if you seek to be rewarded for your actions,” the Emperor said. There was no change in his tone, but the implied threat was clear: This is beneath me and you are wasting my time.

  Scourge swallowed hard, his mouth dry once more. “That is not why I have come before you. Among Sechel’s effects I found these datafiles.”

  He held up the disks.

  “They show that Darth Xedrix was not the only member of the Dark Council to betray you. He was merely sacrificed to keep the involvement of the others secret. Darth Nyriss was also involved in the plot, along with several others.”

  The Emperor had no physical reaction to the revelation; he stayed as still and calm as death itself. But the air around Scourge seemed to grow colder.

  “Are you certain of these accusations?”

  “I would stake my life on them, my lord Emperor.”

  “You already have.”

  Scourge felt a shiver trace its way down his spine, and he knew that far more than his life was at risk. The Emperor was no longer a member of the Sith species; his power and immortality had transformed him into a being unique in the galaxy. When he spoke of life and death, it had far deeper meaning than the mere physical existence of the lesser beings that served him.

  “Does Nyriss know you are here?”

  “No. I came to you as soon as I deciphered the data on Sechel’s disks.”

  There was a long silence, and Scourge had the distinct impression that the Emperor was somehow communicating with someone outside the room.

  A few seconds later the doors to the throne room opened and Captain Yarri strode in, accompanied by a Sith wearing the same dark robes as the Emperor.

  They approached Scourge, and the robed Sith held out his hand expectantly. Scourge handed him the disks.

  “Keep Lord Scourge in custody until this matter is settled,” the Emperor intoned.

  “Forgive me, Lord Emperor,” Scourge said, speaking quickly but trying to keep his tone humble. “But Nyriss is expecting my return. If I am absent, she will grow suspicious.”

  The Emperor’s dark eyes seemed to flicker with annoyance, and Scourge feared he had gone too far. The best he could hope for as punishment for his insolence would be a quick and relatively painless death.

  However, when the Emperor spoke again it was not to pass judgment on him.

  “You are bold to speak to me in this way,” he stated. “And because you are right, I will reward your initiative … this time. When Nyriss falls, you will be first in line for her seat on the Dark Council.”

  “Thank you, Lord Emperor,” Scourge said with a bow.

  “If your information proves false, however,” the Emperor added, “you will suffer a fate more terrible than anything you can imagine.”

  As he spoke, the dark circles of his eyes seemed to fill with a swirling red mist, and for a brief instant the Emperor gave Scourge a glimpse of his true self.

  Scourge cried out in anguish as the Emperor’s mind brushed against his, then he collapsed to the floor, shaking like a child. The touch lasted less than a second, but in that time he witnessed indescribable horrors that dwarfed anything the dark side could conjure even in his worst nightmares. And beneath the formless terrors lurked the unbearable Void, the pure emptiness of total annihilation.

  It was over as quickly as it had begun, the awful vision retreating into his subconscious like a repressed memory as Scourge picked himself up off the floor. Neither Captain Yarri nor the robed Sith made any move to help him.

  “Come with me,” the captain said once he was on his feet.

  Only then did Scourge notice that the Emperor had retaken his seat on the throne, and that the pedestal had spun around to face away from him.

  The dark-robed Sith stayed behind as Yarri led Scourge out of the throne room and into the hall beyond.

  “I see why you tried to talk me out of this,” Scourge muttered as they made their way back toward the citadel’s main entrance.

  “You took a great risk,” Yarri said, though it was hard to tell if she thought him admirable or foolish. “But if your information is good, it sounds like you’ll be on the Dark Council the next time we meet.”

  “What about Nyriss?” Scourge asked. “What will the Emperor do to her?”

  “She will be purged by the Imperial Guard,” Yarri said. “Along with her entire staff of followers.”

  “I’d rather not be there when it happens,” Scourge said. “When will you make your move?”

  “Soon,” the captain said. “For now, return to Nyriss so she doesn’t grow suspicious.”

  They had reached the top of the staircase leading down from the citadel’s entrance to the street below.

  “I will tell my people not to harm you,” Captain Yarri promised before turning away.

  Just before she disappeared into the citadel she added, “But when the battle starts, try to stay out of the way just in case.”

  CHAPTER 24

  MEETRA DIDN’T LIKE THE IDEA of pretending to be Scourge’s newly purchased slave, but the Sith had assured her it was the best way for her to infiltrate Nyriss’s stronghold without drawing unwanted attention.

  To complete the ruse, she had changed her functional pants and top for a revealing purple outfit more suited to a dancer in one of the low-rent clubs she’d frequented during her days as a mercenary. The tight-fitting clothes left her arms and midriff bare, but an excess of exposed skin wasn’t the worst part of the disguise.

  Scourge had also insisted she wear a slave’s shock collar around her neck. It was nonfunctional, of course—she’d had T3 carefully inspect it to make sure—but she still rankled at the idea of adorning herself with
a symbol so closely linked to the galaxy’s most vile practice.

  However, as distasteful as it was, she knew Scourge was right. Every slave on Dromund Kaas was forced to wear the collar; without it, no one would believe their story. T3 was accompanying them, as well, similarly equipped with a nonfunctioning restraining bolt.

  “Welcome back, Lord Scourge,” a guard stationed just inside the main entrance said as the trio passed by. “Darth Nyriss was just asking about you.”

  “In what regard?” the Sith asked, as Meetra struggled to hide her interest.

  “Sechel and Murtog both left two days ago; she wondered if you knew where they had gone.”

  “They didn’t include me in their plans,” Scourge said with a shrug. “I’ve been scouring the slave markets for the past few days, looking for a worthy purchase.”

  “Of course, my lord,” the guard said with a slight bow. He snuck a quick peek at Meetra, a knowing glint in his eye and a faint smile on his lips, before turning his attention back to Lord Scourge. “I will inform Darth Nyriss that you have not seen the others,” he said.

  “Good. Once I am settled, I will go speak with her myself to see if she wants me to inquire after them.”

  He turned on his heel, dismissing the underling as he continued down the hall with long, quick strides. Meetra and T3 scrambled to keep pace, staying a respectful two steps behind their supposed owner.

  Once they were out of sight and earshot of the guards, Scourge stopped and turned to address them. “This could complicate things,” he said. “Nyriss wouldn’t have asked after the others if she wasn’t growing concerned. I had hoped to avoid her until the Emperor made his move, but if I put off seeing her now it will look suspicious.”

  Scourge had spoken to the Emperor just that morning; Meetra imagined it would take at least another day or two before he assembled his forces to strike at Nyriss.

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” she warned him. “If you meet with her, Tee-Three and I had better go with you.”