Consciousness returned to me as suddenly as it had vanished. As if someone powerful had thrown a switch. The memories from right before I blacked out were still there, though—and there was only one Force adept strong enough to pull a trick like that on me.
Valkorion.
At the very mention of the Emperor, my jaw clenched on instinct.
I don't know what game he's playing, but the Sith lured me here for something other than teaching me a lesson because he had to repeat the order to get myself a ship.
Too petty for a ghost almost four thousand years old—one who'd been killed twice and yet was still livelier than the living.
The Emperor dangled candy in front of me. Promised to make me important in this galaxy. To give me what I never had in my previous life. He played on greed and ambition.
My teeth ground.
No, I wasn't furious because I'd realized Valkorion had played me. No. A Sith is meant to be slippery and treacherous.
I was angry at myself. For getting hooked so stupidly.
The Sith used me as a courier, to deliver this body to his real apprentice. Exar Kun, a fallen Jedi. Judging by the slavish devotion with which the ghost stood before the Sith, they'd planned it for a long time. Maybe that was why Kun's ghost had been so stunned by Vitiate's words about a duel…
Then I stopped and thought. The version was stitched together with white thread.
Let's assume I crossed a line and the Sith stopped finding me useful. Valkorion could have thrown me out of the body in an instant—he's the one who dragged me here in the first place. And it would have cost him nothing to shove Kun in there. He didn't do it. Instead, he arranged a duel. Gave me a hint on how to kill the ghost. And he even supported me when I tried to absorb him.
Those weren't the actions of someone who lured me to Yavin 4 just to deliver a body for a ghost. Unless my memory fails me, Kun's spirit isn't bound to Yavin 4. Or is he?
Or did Valkorion miscalculate, underestimate me, and then, once it became clear Kun wasn't my match, the Sith simply changed his tune midair?
Nothing but riddles. Enough lying around, I ordered myself. Time to get up and solve problems.
But the moment I tried to rise, I realized the body wouldn't obey. I could feel it, I knew all my limbs were there, but I couldn't move anything below my neck. As if everything beneath my throat had been powered off.
Well then. Let's open my eyes.
I was lying on the stone floor of the Great Audience Chamber, on my back, arms and legs spread. My lightsaber lay nearby—two meters from my right hand at most.
Sunlight pierced through the window frames into the chamber, pushing thick darkness back into the corners. My eyes watered slightly from the brightness, but they adjusted almost at once—once I nudged them a little with the Force.
An early dawn was lighting the moon. Bright, warm beams from the east. Like searching spotlights, slowly, too subtly for the eye to track, they explored millimeter by millimeter across the floor and walls. Straining to make my body move, I thought furiously about the lost time. How long had I been lying here?!
My body felt wooden. A chill was beating at my face. The tip of my nose felt so cold I started doubting I'd get to keep it.
A thin crust of dust covered my armor and cloak, along with a few tree leaves. Apparently, I hadn't been lying here for a single day. Because I don't remember dry leaves lying in the center of the chamber. Even if they had been there, the Force energy in this place was so violent it would have evaporated them. No, these leaves had been carried in by the wind after I'd gone out.
"A rather interesting way to absorb a Force spirit," Valkorion appeared beside me. "Darth Nox would have paid dearly for such a technique in his time."
The ghost, like a neon statue, glowed in a blue-violet shade. Only now did I begin to understand that unlike the spirits of Obi-Wan, Yoda, and Skywalker in the original trilogy, Valkorion's ghost looked… worn. It didn't have that saturated brightness the Jedi spirits had. No sharp, glossy contrast. It felt as if the ghost was tired from everything he'd been through.
As if he had lived all those thousands of years like a living man.
"What's wrong with me?" I indicated my body with my eyes alone.
"Temporary paralysis," Valkorion explained. "You pushed so much Force through yourself that your nervous system finally gave out. I shut you down. Otherwise you'd have fallen into a coma. And you likely wouldn't have come out."
"You can do that?" I wanted to ask, but bit my tongue. This wasn't some fallen Jedi who'd picked up tricks from ancient Sith. Over his lifetime, Valkorion could have forgotten more about the Force than the entire Jedi Order could ever learn.
"Your body hasn't fully recovered from digesting the spirit's power," Vitiate explained. "Draw on the Force and pass it through your body in small doses, relaxing the tissues."
Silently I followed the ghost's advice. I didn't feel the light-side restriction the way I had before, so purely by instinct I sent it through my veins. Like life-giving moisture in a scorching desert, the Force flowed through me. My shell—wounded by hundreds of thousands of microscopic injuries—answered with a dull, background ache in every cell.
With a quiet groan, I ground my teeth. I focused on the pain, leaned on it like a crutch, and unexpectedly, the body twitched in response to my fleeting wish.
Valkorion, standing nearby, smirked. Turning his back to me, he strolled unhurriedly toward the window openings on the western side of the chamber.
Following his gaze, my eyes caught on the Massassi carcass lying off to the side. The body, separated from its head by my sun-colored blade, was also covered in a layer of dust and debris.
"How long was I lying here?" I felt the Force setting my body right. The overall pain eased, and with it the rage quieted down. My mind cleared, and sensation returned to my limbs. Soon I'd regain full control.
"Six days," the ghost shrugged. "Plus or minus a couple. Time flows differently for us."
"Six days?!" I blurted. "My droid! My ship!"
Valkorion smirked.
"Your corvette and your mechanical servant are where you left them," he said. Snapping his fingers, he summoned a small spark of lightning. "A minor short circuit in your droid's processor, and there you go—he's waiting peacefully, powered down. Don't worry. You won't be stranded on this moon."
I exhaled in relief. Right—getting stuck in this cursed place was the last thing I needed.
"You handled your trial brilliantly," the long-dead Emperor continued. "It's pleasant to realize you can be something more than a Jedi errand boy."
"That wasn't a trial," I snorted with contempt. The Force was reviving my body little by little. By my estimate, ten minutes and I'd be able to move my arms. "You just wanted to kill me. And shove Exar Kun's ghost into my body."
"Conflict allows us to develop," Valkorion said, adopting the tone of a lecture. "You and I both know what Jedi dogmatism and Sith fanaticism will bring to the galaxy. This stagnation can't be resolved by anything but the bloodiest of conflicts."
I thought silently.
Valkorion's words couldn't be without some basis.
First, with the Jedi's help, Palpatine would break the CIS and seize the entire known galaxy. The officers and soldiers forged during the Clone Wars would become the foundation of the Imperial Army and Navy, which would rule the galaxy with an iron hand.
And then the original trilogy would begin… And what came after the second Death Star's destruction? Thrawn, the Yevetha, the Jedi Academy, the Yuuzhan Vong invasion? Or was it "Aftermath" and that hysterical, incoherent, unknown war?
"Regimes are overthrown by idealists," Valkorion remarked. "But behind them stand pragmatists, power-hungry men, and opportunists who, after the regime change, will take the helm of the new state. And everything will be as it was—only the signboard changes."
"You said we could fix it," I recalled. "What's my role?"
The Force helped me regain control over my body, and I rose to my feet with a groan, clutching my aching abdomen. My body hurt as if a tank had run me over.
At my unspoken command, the lightsaber flew back into my hand, then returned to my belt. Slowly, in tiny steps, I moved to Valkorion's figure, stood beside him, and leaned against the stone wall.
"I granted your predecessor, and therefore you, much knowledge of the dark side of the Force," he said. "But Jedi dogma still resonates in your body and mind, preventing your potential from unfolding. I cut you off from the light side so you would turn to the dark. You are to blame for forcing me to act this way. But there was no other way."
"But I could have refused," I noted. "And then what?"
Valkorion looked at me with the immeasurably tired gaze of crimson Sith eyes.
"What use is an apprentice who cannot unlock his potential?"
My mouth went dry.
"So you really did plan to seat Kun's ghost in my body if I lost?" I exclaimed. It came out a little shrill.
Valkorion gave a condescending smile and stared back out into the jungle.
"At the dawn of my invasion, I sent thousands of agents into the Republic. One came to Yavin 4 to kill the spirit of the one who became the cause of the Old Sith Empire's demise."
"For what?" I was surprised. "I remember it was Naga Sadow's spirit. But one spirit can't threaten an invasion by an entire Empire."
"Nothing was allowed to threaten my power in the galaxy," Vitiate explained. "Even dead, Sadow could have caused many problems. The Sith gravitated toward their traditions, and if Sadow remained 'alive,' he could have found an apprentice, resurrected himself, gathered followers, and challenged me."
"You got rid of a rival," I realized. "I remember Sadow's apprentice—a former Jedi—studied Sith alchemy and prepared his own apprentice to create a body capable of housing the spirit."
"If that happened, the bastard could have appeared in my palace and demanded a kaggath," Valkorion said, as if spitting the word. "I could have smeared him on the walls of the Dark Temple without effort, and locked his soul away for hundreds of years of torment, but that would have required distracting myself from my plans to create the Eternal Empire of Zakuul. However great Sadow was, my plans were worth more than the time I would have spent destroying him. And besides… If you make a god bleed before his worshipers' eyes, he loses his power."
"So that means…" it struck me. "You lured Kun here on purpose to deal with him."
Valkorion answered with a satisfied chuckle.
"Not only that. Revan went to great lengths to resurrect me," Valkorion explained with a sigh. "But interference by Jedi and Sith disrupted the ritual. Part of my power went to awakening that worthless ghost. In my true body, with most of my strength, I could, of course, do more than any living Force adept, but I was no longer as strong as I had been last time. Ambition clouded my mind. And as a result, I suffered severe damage—damage I recovered from over several thousand years. As a ghost I watched the galaxy. The device with which Revan revived my spirit, despite the Republic's efforts, still saturated this moon with the dark side. Here I could feed on the Force, recover. Kun's ghost kept me company for long years. And though he is far more experienced and cunning than you, he remained a fearful, cowardly Jedi. One who, moreover, absorbed a portion of my power. And I do not forgive that."
"I absorbed his spirit," I narrowed my eyes. "Does that mean the portion of power he stole now belongs to me?"
"Correct," the ghost nodded. "Not only a portion of my power, but Kun's knowledge is now yours. Your predecessor practiced a rather mediocre form of Niman. Level one—and even then, just the basics. By assimilating Kun's memories and knowledge, you will gain, among other things, knowledge of the second level of Niman, now lost and thoroughly forgotten."
"Well, damn," I whistled. "Thank you for such a generous gift. But why not absorb him yourself and become stronger?"
"I am a Force spirit," Valkorion laughed. "No one can cause me trouble. But my apprentice will find new knowledge useful."
Silently bowing, I waited for him to continue.
"Many of my secrets and vaults were saved from being looted—by Republic forces, Imperials, Eternal Alliance troops, and simple scavengers alike," Valkorion finally said. "They will be the foundation for creating our new Empire. We must visit them."
"Our Empire?" I doubted. "You're powerful enough to rule the galaxy. Why do you need me?"
"You are my will in this world," Valkorion said with slight pomposity. "My children, in whom I placed my hopes, failed them. Thexan, the most reasonable of the three, could not withstand Arcann's rage, broken by the dark side. One and the other were weak. Vaylin—too insane—turned into a bloody tyrant and sadist. None of them could become my heir." The Emperor's voice took on metallic notes. "I saw their future and knew how it would end. I knew that under the guise of the Outlander, my longtime ally in bringing order to the galaxy would surrender. Soften. He bent the knee before me, and I was ready to share the galaxy with him. But carbonite freezing, captivity… all of it changed him. And I abandoned my plan to make him my heir. I realized I had misjudged him, and everything I had planned to pass to him will become yours."
I was silent, understanding the Emperor wasn't finished.