CHAPTER EIGHT
The Supremacy
It was good to be back.
Supreme Leader Snoke let out a satisfied sigh as he relaxed in his throne. Nearby, his purple-robe attendants were busy installing a new oculus device after the previous one had been destroyed, no doubt by his former apprentice. The eight members of the Elite Praetorian Guard stood dutifully on either side of his throne, loyal to the end towards the Supreme Leader—whoever may fulfill that position.
Standing before him nervously was General Armitage Hux, the recently appointed commander of the Supremacy after its previous captain had been unceremoniously executed. Snoke saw no reason to reassign him back to the Finalizer; for his faults, Kylo Ren certainly had a semblance of wisdom in keeping an unpredictable coward like Hux close by. Besides, Snoke needed a new face for his army now that his apprentice had gone missing.
Once he had settled into his seat, Snoke regarded Hux with his piercing blue eyes. “What news from the front, General?”
Hux swallowed before speaking. “General Parnadee has engaged the Mandalorian forces, Supreme Leader. Her plan is to give them a minor victory in order to lure them into a false sense of security.”
“Hm. An intriguing strategy.” Snoke motioned with his hand. “Anything else?”
“We have destroyed the Resistance’s main headquarters on D’Qar, although most of their forces managed to escape. We have yet to locate their current whereabouts.”
“They will be found in due time,” Snoke said. “With the Alliance practically in our hands, their threat to our power has been significantly reduced. Still, so long as the Princess of Alderaan remains at their helm, rebellion is sure to spread on worlds that are sympathetic to her cause. You and the others would do well to ensure that such worlds as Lothal and Damosus do not get any bright ideas.”
Hux nodded stiffly. “Of course, Supreme Leader.”
Behind him, Snoke noticed the turbolift doors open as a group of seven masked warriors entered the throne room. He then turned his gaze back to Hux.
“That will be all, General Hux. Return to the bridge and await further orders.”
Hux nodded and bowed. As he turned to leave, he noticed the approaching Knights of Ren and immediately stiffened, quickening his pace to walk past them and make it to the turbolift as fast as possible. He had already boarded the lift by the time the Knights of Ren reached Snoke in his throne. The leader of the group, Vicrul, dropped down to one knee and placed a hilt on the floor as he bowed his master.
“Supreme Leader,” Vicrul began. “We have killed the ruling Mand’alor and claimed the Darksaber.”
“Is that right?” With the Force, Snoke summoned the hilt to his hand and looked it over. It was indeed the Darksaber, the weapon forged by Tarre Vizsla a millennium ago. It had been in non-Mandalorian hands before, having in the past been claimed by Moff Gideon as well as a clone of Darth Maul. And so now had it fallen into such hands again.
Fitting, Snoke thought, for the Mandalorians. A group of barbaric warriors that had time and again attempted to make themselves into a galactic power, only to fail each and every time. Crushed at every turn by the Republic, the Empire, and now the First Order. Perhaps this time they would finally learn their place.
“Well done,” Snoke said, returning the hilt to Vicrul’s hands. He took a moment to regard each of the seven Knights of Ren. Whether they realized it or not, he knew more about them than they did each other, having watched their activities closely for the past several decades. Their roster was slightly different now than it had been forty years ago, yet they had continued to play the same role in his schemes in all of that time.
Vicrul had been there for most of that time, having joined the Knights of Ren at the same time as their previous leader, Kylo’s predecessor. Both of them had been nomads, survivors of a distant world that had been devastated by unnatural forces. Cardo joined them not long after, a roaming mercenary who had been cast out of his own society for violating one too many laws… an impressive feat itself given how few laws that society even had.
The other Knights that now stood before Snoke had come along much later. Trudgen, Kuruk, and Ushar had all come from similar backgrounds, left without a home and finding a new one with the Knights of Ren. Ap’lek was a more intriguing case, having been born into the noble Jaedec family on the Chiss colony of Avidich and cast out of the sky-walker corps. Snoke was more than familiar with the Chiss and to have one under his thumb was certainly something he found amusing if nothing else.
And then there was Karis. The most recent addition to their ranks, the young female S’kytri had been brought into the Knights by Kylo Ren himself, after having spared her while the rest of her Sith peers had been slaughtered. Snoke could not deny that she had potential, yet he also could not help but wonder if perhaps Kylo had seen something… else in her. He knew that the other Knights only tolerated her presence due to her having been apprenticed to Kylo. Now that her teacher was gone, her fate was still up in the air.
With how everything was proceeding, and what he knew was still to come, Snoke wondered what role—if any—the Knights of Ren would play in the new world he had envisioned. Perhaps that was something, loathe he was to admit it, that only the Force itself could have a say in. Until then, he would continue to use them as he had for the past forty years. He just needed to make a few more arrangements.
“You have served me well, Vicrul,” Snoke said, noting with satisfaction at how the Knight’s body stiffened at having his name be spoken by the Supreme Leader. “Seeing as how your previous leader has abandoned you, I only see it right that I appoint you as the new Master of the Knights of Ren.”
Vicrul lifted his head up to look at him, breathing heavily with anticipation. “Thank you, Supreme Leader. I promise that I will not fail you as Kylo has.”
Snoke smirked. “That would be wise.” He then motioned with a bony hand. “Rise. From this moment forth, you are now Hattaska Ren; named for the home you have lost as you now set out to rule over a new one.”
Darksaber in hand, the newly-dubbed Hattaska Ren rose to his feet. “I shall conquer Mandalore and rule it in your name, Supreme Leader.”
“And so shall it be done,” Snoke concurred, his grin widening. “Thus shall be the fate of all worlds that dare to defy the First Order.”
And once the galaxy is mine, he added silently, no one will be able to take it from me.
Elsewhere
The old Chagrian who called himself Wyyrlok had not spoken since he and Zarin had departed from Coruscant, and the Kiffar ex-Jedi had no idea where they were headed. Zarin recognized the vessel they were in as a Lambda-class shuttle, as used by the Empire many years ago, and a part of him wondered if Wyyrlok had been using it for that long. The fact that the Chagrian had been able to get clearance at the Galactic Alliance Detention Center certainly made him wonder what kind of power he exactly had, but he knew that he wouldn’t be getting any answers from him.
Even so, he was unable to contain himself. As the tunnel of hyperspace swirled before the cockpit, Zarin turned his head to look at the Chagrian.
“What exactly happened? With the Eye of Kaas. There was a red explosion and….”
He trailed off, expecting Wyyrlok to answer him. Not to his surprise, the Chagrian did not speak, keeping his eyes focused on the blue void in front of them. Zarin shifted in his seat, leaning forward to catch the Sith Lord’s gaze.
“I am a Kiffar, you know. I might be able to get my answers just by touching you.”
“I was not present for that event,” Wyyrlok said sharply. “You would gain nothing but an early death by touching me.”
“Ah, so you have not lost your hearing!” Zarin said dryly. “Surely you must know something about what happened, otherwise you wouldn’t be doing… whatever it is you’re doing.”
Wyyrlok closed his eyes and sighed, no doubt realizing that nothing would satiate Zarin other than the truth.
“The Eye of Kaas,” the old Chagrian began, his tone low and almost like a whisper, “served its purpose. When it released its energies on Sed’tral, it did not obliterate anything other than the two Givin who fought over it.”
“Then what did it do?” Zarin pressed him.
“It sent out a signal. To us. The true Sith.”
Zarin frowned. “What makes a ‘true’ Sith different than any other Sith?”
Wyyrlok’s face twisted, his withered blue hands trembling. At first Zarin read this as frustration at his question, only to then sense a small hint of fear coming from the old man. It was as if Wyyrlok was terrified of the answer he was about to give.
“The Sith have existed long before the Dark Jedi laid claim to their worlds and declared their empire,” the Chagrian said. “Most if not all historians believe that their last vestiges were swept away when Vitiate’s Empire collapsed once and for all at the end of the Galactic Wars. They are wrong. The Jedi believed that the Sith Empire that they fought during that period was the threat that Revan had tried to warn them of. They were wrong. The galaxy believed that the Sith had been vanquished once and for all with the death of Sidious and the end of Bane’s Rule of Two. They were wrong.”
Wyyrlok slowly turned his head to look Zarin directly in the eyes. Zarin did not know how to describe the emotion he saw in them. It treaded the thin line between fear and amazement.
“The Jedi think they have seen the true power of the dark side. They are wrong.”
Zarin held his gaze, as difficult as it was to not break eye contact. “Enough with the riddles. What are the true Sith and where are they?”
“We,” Wyyrlok emphasized, “are the heralds of the Final Shadow. And in time, we will be everywhere. The light of the galaxy will burn out once and for all.”
He turned away from Zarin, returning his gaze to the viewport.
“However, our plans have been… temporarily stalled. An agent of ours has gone rogue and appropriated the resources we have given him for the purposes of paving the way for our return. Instead, he has abandoned his true purpose in favor of remaking the Empire in his own image.”
“The First Order,” Zarin breathed.
Wyyrlok nodded. “He was supposed to succeed where Vorath had failed, but alas, he and his wayward student have set us back slightly behind schedule. But not to worry, for we have other means of fulfilling our plan.”
Zarin narrowed his eyes. “So, where do I fit into all of this?”
The old Chagrian turned back to him, a wicked smile now plastered on his pale blue face. “You are to find the one who will bring forth the return of the True Sith and bring about the Final Order on the galaxy.”
“And who would that be?”
Wyyrlok reached into his cloak and brought out a small holodisc. He tapped it with his thumb and the holographic image of a young woman’s face materialized before Zarin’s eyes. His felt his heart sink into his stomach as he put the name to the face in front of him.
“No,” he whispered.
“You have seen her before.” Wyyrlok’s smile broadened. “You know where to find her. You will bring her to us.”
“And if I don’t?” Zarin asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“Then you will die. And we will find her ourselves.”
Zarin took in a breath and exhaled it heavily as he processed this information. After a moment’s consideration, he nodded firmly. “Very well. I will do it.”
Wyyrlok bared his teeth in a vicious grin. “Excellent. But before you do that….”
As if on cue, the navigation board chimed and Wyyrlok proceeded to bring the ship out of hyperspace. The stars realigned as the shuttle came out of lightspeed and began to approach a desert world that Zarin instantly recognized as Korriban, homeworld of the Sith.
“We have a few introductions to make.”
Korriban
Alema Rar wasn’t sure what she was doing here.
She stood in one of the many tombs that populated the Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban, ancestral homeworld of the Sith. From what she had been told, it was the resting place of an ancient Sith Lady named XoXaan, who had been among the founding Dark Lords of the Sith Empire that had reigned several millennia ago.
Seventeen years ago, she would have eaten up such knowledge had it been offered to her. Throughout her training as a Jedi, she had been tempted by the morsels her teachers had given her about the Sith and the dark side, which they became even more guarded of when Darth Vorath and his Sith Order revealed themselves to the galaxy. During the war that followed, she had nearly fallen to the dark side during an encounter with a woman named Lomi Plo, who had offered to teach her things that the Jedi wouldn’t. Still pained by the loss of her sister at the hands of the enemy, she had nearly accepted the offer but had been brought back to the light by her friends.
She had been thankful for them back then… but she realized now that that was a lie. She resented them for turning her back to the light. She hated them for denying her the knowledge and power she craved.
When Vorath’s Empire collapsed, she had accepted her lot with the Jedi. Then the Glorian War happened and more death and destruction was had. She lost more friends to the invaders and she had started to question whether it could have all been prevented had she simply accepted Lomi Plo’s offer.
The fall of Ossus had been the final straw for her. The Jedi Order had nearly been wiped out again due to her teachers’ ignorance of the darkness that had been in front of them, hidden among their own ranks. The Resistance was now fighting a losing battle, and she saw no reason why the Jedi should play any part in it lest they put themselves at risk of another purge.
But she knew there would be no convincing them. So she had left. She abandoned the mission she had been given and accepted the offer of a strange mysterious woman to be brought to Korriban. Right then and there, she had decided to abandon the Jedi path in order to finally pursue the knowledge she had longed for for so long. And now, she finally had it.
So why, then, did she feel so uneasy about her present situation?
She was not alone in the tomb of XoXaan. The strange chalk-skinned woman that had brought her to Korriban was also here, roaming the halls looking as lost as she was. There were also a small group of five beings shrouded in dark cloaks, their faces completely hidden save for a pair of pearly white eyes that she had glimpsed from one in particular. She did not know who they were, and they had not spoken to her in all of the time she had spent here.
She had lost track of the days. She wasn’t sure how much time she had been here, and if she would ever be able to get out. Was she trapped here forever?
As Alema circled around the tomb for what had to have been the ten thousandth time, she heard footsteps echoing from down the halls. She poked her head from around a corner and saw a pair of newcomers walking towards the antechamber, where the five cloaked beings were gathered. The two newcomers were clad in black as well but had their hoods thrown back to reveal their faces. One was an old male Chagrian whereas the other was a much younger Kiffar man. In fact, she was pretty sure she recognized the Kiffar as Zarin Kal, a peer of hers from the Jedi Order. What was he doing here?
Hiding behind one of the stone pillars that supported the tomb, Alema watched from the shadows as the seven convened.
“My Lords,” the Chagrian said, “I have brought him. He has agreed to help us find the Daughter of Shadows. In fact, he has seen her before.”
“Excellent work, Lord Wyyrlok,” said the white-eyed one. “We now have our three hunters. Come forth!”
Alema’s body suddenly moved as if it had a mind of its own and she stepped out from behind the pillar, walking towards where the five Lords were gathered. At the same time, she saw the woman who had brought her here walking towards them as well. Her lithe body was clad in a form-fitting orange jumpsuit with a sleeveless brown jacket worn over it. She seemed to be moving more of her own free will than Alema was, yet the expression on her face suggested that she was as clueless about what was happening as Alema was.
As they approached, Zarin turned and saw Alema, and she could tell from his eyes that he recognized her. But the Kiffar did not say a word as she and the other woman came to stand on either side of him.
“Zarin Kal,” the white-eyed one said. “Alema Rar. Aurra Sing. All three of you have walked the path of the Jedi only to reject it in favor of following the dark side. You shall be the ones who will find our lost Daughter.”
Alema instinctively wanted to ask what this business about a “Daughter” was, only to find that she was unable to so much as open her mouth. She glanced at Zarin who did not seem to share in her confusion; perhaps he already knew what this mission was about or who these guys even were.
“Our oracle stones have caught a glimpse of our Daughter,” said another of the cloaked beings, their voice raspy and soft like smoke. “She is in the Grumani sector, on a world that once belonged to the darkness. Find her and bring her to us.”
Again Alema’s body moved against her will as she bowed to the five in complete synchronization with Zarin and Aurra Sing.
“So it shall be done,” the three of them said in perfect unison.
“And so it shall be,” the Chagrian and the five sang back to them.
As she rose back to her full height, Alema wondered what exactly it was she had gotten herself into… and whether it was something she really wanted after all.
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