Okay, so I have decided that the way the Dread Fortress has gone, from what I have seen in Youtube recordings of the PTS Operation, will not work in the context of my story, so I need to modify it slightly. Therefore, there will (probably) not be any spoilers for it in this text. Spoilers from the classes' main stories may apply.

 

Prologue

 

They approached the throne room.

 

Lightsaber lit in hand, Gareb led the strike team into the vast room. Two Dread Guards, clad in dark armor, turned and saw the team coming. The guards opened fire, and Gareb redirected the bolts back into their chests. The guards fell.

 

Behind Gareb, Prudii and Dankin flanked the dais with six thrones–one empty–while Kira, standing in for Jasin, moved beside Gareb and ignited her double-bladed saber. The Dread Masters stood from their thrones and stepped forward. Gareb noticed that one of them was limping as if he was getting used to new legs.

 

"You are foolish to strike us here," Raptus said.

 

There was an ecstatic undertone in his voice, as if he was not entirely sane–which, Gareb knew, he was. The death of Raptus had made the Dread Masters begin to lose their minds. They could not contain their power in five bodies.

 

"You are weakened," Gareb said. "I will give you one last chance to surrender."

 

Raptus laughed. "Even without Raptus, we are enough to defeat you, Jedi. Especially without your cousin."

 

Gareb knew it was true. Jasin was the fighter, the one who could conquer all odds and live to tell about it. Unfortunately, he was currently missing, with Lord Scourge, somewhere out in the Unknown Regions after the last Battle of Belsavis.

 

"We will still try," Gareb said.

 

"The four of you?" Calphayus asked. "One Jedi Master, one Jedi Knight, a soldier, and a criminal?"

 

"If need be."

 

"Fools," Brontes wheezed.

 

She sent a burst of Force lightning from her hands, and Gareb raised his blade to block the bolt. The energy went harmlessly into the ground–the Dread Masters really had been weakened. But together, they probably would still be enough to kill the four of them.

 

Before the battle could begin in full, a side door blasted open. A man sheathed in Mandalorian armor shot into the room, blaster raised in one hand and flamethrower on his left wrist extended. Behind him entered two men that Gareb recognized–Darth Nox, and Gareb's cousin Methic, the Emperor's Wrath.

 

Raptus laughed. "We're all here, then." He extended a shaking hand. "Kill them all."

 

Calphayus lit his lightsaber and lunged forward. Kira jumped in and engaged him. Prudii and Dankin opened fire on Tyrans. Dha, the Mandalorian, shot forward, his flamethrower catching Brontes' cloak on fire. She sent Force lightning at him and he danced aside mid-air. Methic and Nox engaged Bestia.

 

That left Raptus for Gareb.

 

Raptus stalked forward slowly, sending short bursts of Force lightning at Gareb. He blocked one with his lightsaber, redirected another with his palm, and rolled out of the way of the third. He came out of his roll in a crouch, ripped a pillar out of the ground, and hurled it at Raptus. The Dread Master brushed it aside and continued his march. Within striking distance, he lunged with his lightsaber. Gareb raised his own blade and blocked. Raptus spun and stabbed at Gareb's waist. Gareb parried and sent a storm of rubble at Raptus. The Dread Masters' leader managed to block most of it, but a few of the small projectiles sheared through Raptus' robe and dented his armor.

 

Raptus, growling, lifted Gareb up with the Force and threw him back into the wall. Gareb grunted and broke his way free of Raptus' grasp. He raised his blade again, but he knew that Raptus was right.

 

Without Jasin, they just didn't have it. The seven of them without Jasin could've taken on anyone else in the galaxy–but without his added strength, they simply couldn't take the Dread Masters, weakened or not.

 

Gareb surveyed the battle as he lunged at Raptus again. Brontes had Dha held up against the wall with the Force, strangling him. Methic, seeing this, disengaged Bestia and lunged at Brontes' back. The Dread Master turned but Methic's lightsaber grazed her side. She howled in rage and blasted him away, but she had to release her hold on Dha.

 

Gareb grunted as Raptus pushed him back again. Grim determination on his face, Gareb simply drew on the Force as strongly as he could and hurled Raptus back across the room into his throne. The throne shattered. That made the others mad. Calphayus was beating down on Kira, nearly killing the poor girl, Brontes was attacking both Methic and Dha with powerful lightning blasts, Tyrans was throttling Prudii and Dankin with a chunk of pillar, and Bestia and Nox were connected by a powerful sheet of lightning emanating from both their hands.

 

A sniper bolt–Merok!–connected with Calphayus' chin, and the Dread Master dropped, his body sagging. Kira drew back, relieved, and panted. Gareb turned his gaze up and saw Merok in the window above the throne room. But suddenly, Raptus pulled the Chiss assassin down from the window. Merok landed on his back and groaned, lying still.

 

Calphayus' death rallied the Dread Masters and they began beating down on the strike team anew. Dha's once-bright armor was now gouged with lightsaber strikes, blocked only by the beskar the armor was made of. He staggered, clearly injured despite the protection. Dankin was out cold, and Prudii was dragging his friend away from the battle; his rifle empty, he was now firing with his sidearm at Tyrans. Brontes temporarily reprieved from having to deal with Dha, turned her attention fully to Methic, barraging him with lightning, Force blasts, and her lightsaber. Methic, however, was easily as powerful as his brother Jasin, and quickly fought past Brontes' defenses. Finally, he rammed his lightsabers into her gut.

 

But that was as far as anyone got. Raptus, enraged, rallied the remaining Dread Masters, and as one they sent out a wave of raw fear. Gareb staggered and nearly dropped his lightsaber, but drew on just enough light side energy to keep his footing. Prudii and Dha were grasping their heads, trying to claw out the terrifying images they saw. If it hadn't been for their helmets, they might've torn their eyes out. Methic grunted and fell on his face, but he staggered up and leaned heavily on a pillar. Darth Nox was finally thrown back from his brutal fight with Bestia. Kira was sitting with her back against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes met Gareb's.

 

We can't do it, they said.

 

Suddenly, there was a crashing sound. The roof burst open and three figures landed, dust enshrouding them. The remaining Dread Masters drew back in surprise. The dust cleared, and Gareb saw who the figures were. One was Lord Scourge, red lightsaber lit and raised. On the right was a dark-robed figure with a green lightsaber, and Gareb knew it was Revan.

 

In the middle, blue lightsaber at guard, was Jasin.

 

"Let's finish this," Jasin said.

Edited September 17, 2013 by YoshiRaphElan

Chapter 1

 

As Jasin leapt in, he saw Revan kneel behind him, beginning his Battle Meditation. Jasin felt light energy flow through his body and he began spinning his lightsaber at Raptus' neck. The Dark Lord blocked his blow and redirected them, trying to find an opening. Jasin blocked each blow, Revan's Battle Meditation and his own natural fighting skills quickly overpowering Raptus.

 

Bestia broke away from her opponent and lunged at Revan. Jasin turned and tried to stop her–but Raptus gripped Jasin with the Force and threw him to the ground. Jasin winced as his ribs slammed into the floor. But he allowed himself a small smile. His gambit had worked. Bestia had a clean shot at Revan. But Revan jumped up–without breaking his Battle Meditation–and snapped his lightsaber to life, cleanly cutting Bestia in half.

 

"No!" Raptus bellowed.

 

Now it was just him and Tyrans. Jasin grinned and advanced, his lightsaber spinning. Raptus panicked and backed up, his grip on his lightsaber faltering. Jasin knew it would be seconds before the fight was over.

 

* * *

 

Prudii clicked out the last of his ammo in his sidearm and threw it aside. Fueled by rage unlike any Prudii had ever seen, Tyrans was smashing through his opponents. Dha was face-down, now, several dents in his armor in addition to the lightsaber slashes. Gareb and Kira lunged at Tyrans and the Sith blasted them aside with powerful red bursts of Force energy. Scourge lashed out behind Tyrans, but still Tyrans hurled him aside.

 

Prudii threw his empty pistol aside and let Dankin slide to the ground. Tyrans was in enough of a rage that he was still going for a moving target, so the unconscious smuggler should be all right. Prudii searched through his utility belt for a weapon to use against Tyrans and came up with a cryo-grenade. He hurled the grenade. Tyrans sneered and popped the grenade mid-air–and doing so caused the carbonite to keep coming, freezing Tyrans solid–but, because it had been detonated prematurely, it only froze his legs and torso.

 

Rage poured through Tyrans' mask as he tried to surge forward. Prudii reached his hand down and whipped up Dankin's blaster–and fired. The bolt sheared through Tyrans' collarbone. The Sith groaned in agony. Prudii fired again–this time straight into Tyrans' head. The Dread Master died instantly.

 

* * *

 

Jasin heard the sound of Tyrans dying and knew it was over. He surged forward, his lightsaber a cobalt hurricane. He slashed Raptus' lightsaber in half. The Sith dropped to his knees–and Methic slashed him diagonally across the chest. Raptus collapsed. Jasin looked over at Methic.

 

"Nicely done," he said.

 

"Thank you."

 

"It...is not over...." Raptus hissed. "There must...always...be D...Dread Masters."

 

"Not anymore," Jasin said.

 

He slashed downward and planted his lightsaber solidly in Raptus' face. Then, with a diagonal slash, he removed the last Dread Master's head from his body.

Last minute changes to the plotline require the title to be changed to Maze of the Mind. Update coming later today.

Chapter 2

 

3 months later

 

Sometimes there was an advantage to being an alien, Darth Nox mused. For one, no one assumed he was a Sith Lord on the Dark Council. Wearing a tan tunic, he could walk amongst the ordinary people and no one suspected him. He scowled a little as he realized he looked like a Jedi.

 

On the homeworld of the Twi'leks, Ryloth, Nox occasionally came to see where his species had come from. He sneered as he watched the upper castes of his people lord over the slaves. But he smiled with a certain satisfaction as he watched some of the slaves use make themselves advantages to use against their lords. Like the three beautiful blue-skinned women standing on the corner of the street in dancer's bikinis, dancing seductively for a throng of male observers. Nox knew they were dancing for a home...a home they'd have until the male that took them home grew tired of seeing the same woman.

 

Interestingly, one of the dancers–the one with darker blue skin than the others and an outfit just a little bit more revealing–seemed to be drawing all the attention. There were occasions where some of them would draw a bit of a larger crowd, but literally, this one had all the males gathered around her. The other dancers stopped dancing and pouted angrily.

 

Nox frowned and stepped forward to get a better view of the dancer. Abruptly, a wave of desire shot through his whole body.

 

Musthavemusthavemusthave...

 

He pushed the desire away with effort and realized that the female Twi'lek was using the Force to attract her patrons. But her power was raw. Nox reached out with the Force and loosed her hold on the other males. Then he used the Force to suggest they wander away. The Twi'lek looked over at him, scowling.

 

"You took my patrons," she said, her voice purring with a seductive accent.

 

Nox nodded. "Do you know how you're doing that? Attracting so many?"

 

She shrugged. "Not really."

 

"I can train you to be so much more powerful," he said. "Come with me."

 

She considered, her eyes flitting over his body, and nodded. "Very well."

 

Nox led the scantily-clad woman off, knowing he now had one of the most powerful apprentices in the galaxy.

Chapter 3

 

Prudii sat in the remnants of the Republic camp on Oricon. The strike team was packed up and prepared to leave. Only the medical tent, with the remaining critical patients, and the supply tents remained. Elara was helping patch up the last remaining injured or get them stable enough to load onto the BT-7 Thunderclap, while Jorgan and Tanno were over in the supply tents, and Yuun, Forex, and HK-51 were ferrying troops to the BT-7.

 

Prudii finished polishing his rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and walked into the supply tent. Jorgan was stripping the black-and-yellow armor off a squad of Dread Host corpses. Jorgan looked up at Prudii, a bit of concern in his eyes.

 

"This is...or was...Republic tech," Jorgan observed. "As high-quality as anything we have. Probably more high-quality after the beating we took at the hands of the Dread Masters."

 

Prudii nodded. "Finish stripping them and get them aboard the BT-7. A quick paint job and this armor will serve as sufficient replacement for our damaged gear."

 

Jorgan nodded. "On it, Major."

 

Prudii turned and left the tent. Across the camp, he saw Jasin shaking hands with Revan and agreeing to meet him on Tython. Prudii still didn't understand how Jasin and Scourge had found Revan; he had supposedly been killed in the Foundry and, even when the Revanites were searching for him, they'd been unable to find him.

 

Revan turned and hopped onto a Republic shuttle, and Jasin went over to hug Kira. Prudii turned away from the scene and sighed in relief. Three months of combat even after the Dread Masters' death, and Oricon was finally theirs. The Empire had retreated, leaving the planet in the Republic's hands.

 

"Sir," Elara said over the comlink, "that's the last of them. We can leave as soon as you're ready."

 

"Roger that, Elara. Out."

 

Prudii sighed in relief. Months on the same planet was getting tiring. Prudii was glad to finally get rid of the Dread Masters, so he could go back to fighting the Empire. Maybe, soon, the galaxy could have a little peace again. Prudii knew he needed some.

 

* * *

 

Jasin unwrapped his arms from Kira's shoulders and kissed her softly on the forehead. Even in three months, they hadn't gotten a proper reuniting, since they'd been finishing off the Dread Host. Now, he intended to make up for that lost time.

 

"Have Rusk bring the ship down," Jasin whispered.

 

Kira smiled and nodded. "All right."

 

"Don't worry," he said, "I won't go anywhere. I just need to talk to Gareb."

 

Kira nodded. Jasin turned and walked over to his cousin. Gareb was outside the medical tent, stripping off white surgical gloves. As a Jedi healer, he had been one of the last to finish operating on the injured; he'd been needed the most.

 

"How were things while I was gone?" Jasin asked.

 

"Pretty bad for a while," Gareb said. "Kira and I never doubted you were alive, but Master Satele was beginning to fear the worst. She'll be glad to see you...in person. Comlink won't cut it in this case, especially since you brought one of her ancestors back from the supposed dead."

 

Jasin nodded, grinning. "And you'd know, being on the Council and all. All right, first chance I get I'll pay the Council a visit on Tython."

 

"Good." Gareb put his arm on Jasin's shoulder. "I am glad you are safe, cousin."

 

"Me too," Jasin replied with a laugh. "See you on Tython."

 

"See you."

 

* * *

 

Methic blew out a breath as he stepped into the Dark Council chamber. Darth Marr stood–actually stood–and walked over to Methic. He placed a hand on Methic's shoulder and nodded deeply...almost a bow, really.

 

"Well done, Wrath," Marr said. "The threat of the Dread Masters is finally over."

 

Methic nodded. "The Emperor will be pleased."

 

Marr hesitated. "Yes, of course. And give the bounty hunter my congratulations, as well; his payment will be on its way to him as we speak, but you are a familiar face."

 

Methic grinned. "Having his armor dented and chopped to pieces probably will sour Dha on a Dark Council representative's face for a while. All right, I'll give him your thanks."

 

Marr turned and walked back to his seat. Methic looked around. Only Darths Vowrawn and Acina were in the room besides Marr; the others were probably on missions, but Darth Nox's absence was worrying. Methic said so.

 

"Nox...concerns me," Marr said. "He has been more and more withdrawn, lately; even we do not know where he is much of the time." He turned to Methic. "I believe he may soon become a threat to the Empire. He will need to be removed when that day comes."

 

Methic nodded. "And I'm the man to remove him. I understand."

 

"May the dark side go with you, Wrath."

 

Methic hesitated at the expression, but nodded. "And the Force with you, Marr."

 

* * *

 

Darth Nox walked into the dark tomb on Korriban and waved his hand, sending a Force blast to knock the rubble out of the pathway. The Tomb of Tulak Hord, one of the first tombs Nox had explored while he'd been an acolyte here, was the perfect place to train his new apprentice in privacy; there were Sith acolytes around but no one who would dare report anything he did, and the abundance of slave laborers made it the ideal place to gather lab rats.

 

He turned to the Twi'lek woman beside him, who had changed into more proper Sith clothing; at least, somewhat more proper. She had tight, black pants, shoes, and gloves, and a tube top wrapped around her chest, with a trenchcoat over it. She had a training lightsaber tied across her back with a bandolier.

 

"I have to stay here?" grumbled the Twi'lek with a scowl and a look around. "It's so...dusty." She shrugged a shoulder, letting the sleeve of her trenchcoat fall to reveal her shoulder. "Can't I stay on your ship?"

 

Nox felt a wave of hypnotism roll over him.

 

Nox sneered. "Don't try to seduce me, apprentice. No, you must stay here. I won't have your powers affecting the rest of my crew; I need them all to be fit for combat at any moment. However, if necessary I will allow you to practice on their minds from here...since you won't be able to hold control over them at such distance. Not until I teach you how, anyway."

 

The Twi'lek reached down and shoved the lid off the tomb, looking down at the ashes and bones inside. She winced and threw the bones out.

 

"I think," she said, "I can turn this tomb into a passable bed."

 

Nox shrugged indifferently. "Whatever you want. I'm not going to obsess about your comfort. The life of a Sith is not about comfort."

 

"So what's first?" she asked.

 

"First, a name," Nox said. "A Sith name. Given your power, I will call you Hypnal."

 

She nodded. "Thank you, my lord."

 

"Second, we begin your training immediately." He turned to the tomb's antechamber and walked outside. "There are two slaves out here, male and female. I want you to control their minds."

 

Hypnal closed her eyes and reached out with the Force. Nox felt her influence touch his mind, reject him, and pass over. She winced, grunted in concentration, and lowered her hand. A moment later, the female slave entered, walking stiffly, hey eyes wide and unblinking.

 

"I am at your command," she droned.

 

Nox nodded. "Well, well. Good work. But...what about the male?"

 

She winced. "I...I can't. I can't touch his mind from...here."

 

Nox frowned. "But you had all those males on Ryloth stepping on their tongues because...that's it." He turned. "Slave. Come in here."

 

The male slave obediently entered the room, kneeling beside Nox. Nox looked down at him.

 

"I want you to look at Lady Hypnal," he said. He glanced at Hypnal. "Do it, apprentice."

 

She nodded and stepped off the dais, walking toward the slave. He looked up at her, fear in his eyes. She smiled alluringly and dropped her trenchcoat to the ground. His eyes flickered, dropping to her scantily-clad chest. And suddenly, he stiffened.

 

"I understand," Nox said suddenly. "You can control females' minds from a distance, but you must use physical hypnosis to control males."

 

Hypnal made a pouting face. "That's not fair."

 

Nox considered. "Command your female slave to do something."

 

Hypnal nodded. "Slave, remove the ashes of Tulak Hord from this room."

 

"Yes, Mistress."

 

The woman woodenly walked toward the tomb and began scooping up the ashes and bones.

 

"Now command the male."

 

Hypnal turned. "You will bring me the things necessary to turn this tomb into my quarters."

 

"Yes, Mistress."

 

The male turned and left the tomb. Nox watched Hypnal carefully as she retrieved her trenchcoat.

 

"It's your lekku."

 

"What?" she asked.

 

"It's your lekku. Your left lekku, the one who controls more mental conditions, moved when you commanded the female. The right lekku, which controls more physical actions, moved when you commanded the male. If you can learn to do this you can control males without having to...perform...every time, but they'll still have to be in your presence. I can teach you Force techniques to enhance this."

 

She considered. "Interesting. But...then what good is it?"

 

"Once you have a control on the male, they cannot be released until your mental command releases them. So they do not have to stay in your presence." He put a hand on his chin, considering. "I see a way this may work to our advantage," he said, grinning evilly. "Listen closely..."

Chapter 4

 

Jasin, Revan, and Satele gathered in the Council chamber, recounting the events of Oricon and how Jasin had found Revan. If Jasin had been expecting a tearful reunion between Satele and Revan, he was disappointed. Satele, despite being three hundred years younger than Revan, was physically his elder–and she seemed to believe she was also his elder morally, too.

 

"You didn't tell me your plan involved genocide," she insisted.

 

Revan, leaning casually against the Council table, nodded. "I know. And I cannot blame that fully on the madness put upon me by three hundred years' torment. Part of me knew what I was doing, but didn't care because I was willing to do what was necessary to defeat the Emperor before he could consume the galaxy."

 

"So. Scourge was telling the truth," Satele murmured.

 

Revan nodded. "He was. Listen to me, Satele. There is much of Bastila in you, I can tell. We must strike now, before the Empire can recuperate from the Emperor's loss. I am sorry I stooped to genocide, I promise. But I also know we need to stop the Empire. The Republic needs stability."

 

"I don't know if I can allow you to go out onto the field in your condition, Revan."

 

"Blast it, I just spent the past year on a beach on Lehon, healing!" Revan sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted. But trust me when I say I know what the Republic...the Jedi...need. Please. Give me a chance."

 

Satele turned. "Jasin?"

 

Jasin straightened. "I think Revan's right. He is cured of any madness, and a lot of his strategies are sound. He could do a great job pushing back the Empire."

 

Satele nodded. "All right. Revan, I'll put you on the Telos with Master Oteg, since you're familiar with him." She took Revan's hand in hers and shook it solemnly. "May the Force be with you."

 

"And you."

 

* * *

 

Darth Marr knew something was wrong as soon as he awoke. He rolled out of bed, barely avoiding the light-dagger that implanted itself in his pillow. Marr grabbed his mask from the floor and pulled it on at the same time as he Force-pulled his lightsaber to him. The red blade ignited, filling his room with crimson light. Marr stood and looked at the assailant standing in the doorway.

 

It was the Dark Council member, Darth Acina.

 

Eyes wide, Marr grabbed Acina's throat with the Force and slammed her brutally into the wall. Acina shrieked and slumped, unconscious. Marr considered killing her, but the Empire needed the Council to keep it stable. So he rolled her onto his bed and held her down with the Force until she awoke.

 

"M...Marr?" gasped Acina. "What's...going on?"

 

"Don't be that way," Marr replied with a sneer. "You tried to kill me, Acina."

 

"What?" she exclaimed. "Marr, why would I do such a thing? And even if I wanted you dead, I'd send one of my assassins, I wouldn't come myself!"

 

Marr considered. "Why should I believe you?"

 

"Marr, I..." Her eyes widened. "Wait, I remember. There was a voice in my head...it told me to kill you! It seemed so...so logical. I...I don't understand."

 

Marr glowered. "Neither to I. But in time, I will."

Chapter 5

 

Gareb entered the Temple's healing ward and looked down at a prisoner so secret, only a handful of people in the entire galaxy knew he existed. The Dread Master Calphayus, believed to be dead, was now unmasked and lying, at peace, on one of the examining tables. He had staggered into the camp after the assault, claiming to be free from fear. Gareb and Jasin had agreed to allow him sanctuary amongst the Jedi and had him delivered to Tython.

 

"The patient is comatose," said a Jedi healer. "He will not awake for some time."

 

Gareb nodded. "Let me see what I can do."

 

He went over to Calphayus' side and put a hand on his chest. He detected a faint heartbeat. Gareb poured healing power into the Force, letting the energy repair Calphayus' horrifically damaged body. No one should've survived Calphayus' injuries...but that he had showed how powerful he truly was. The Republic could do with his help. It could be a very good thing indeed.

 

"Master Gareb?" asked the healer. "Are you all right?"

 

"What...? Yes, yes I am."

 

"You've been sitting here for hours, Master. The patient is...remarkably well-off."

 

Gareb nodded. "Good, good. I...I am tired. Please, look after him." He put a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Take care, Hestizo."

 

"Thank you, Master."

 

* * *

 

Kira sat in her bed, clad in a nightshirt and sleep pants, her arms curled around her knees, and tried not to pout. Her and Jasin's anniversary was tomorrow night, and he showed no sign of coming home to the Defender soon; between Council meetings, helping Revan settle in, and planning strikes against the Empire, the only time she ever saw him anymore was on the battlefield. It wasn't fair; he was her husband and she wanted him to herself, sometimes. Especially on her anniversary night.

 

Kira stood, paced the bedroom for a while, and frowned at the nagging at the back of her mind, as if someone was trying to get in. She recognized the feeling from when the Emperor had possessed her as one of his Children, but this felt...different. Almost intoxicating.

 

If he's not going to be here for you, he doesn't deserve you anyways.

 

Whoa. Where had that come from? When had she ever been that snobby? The answer was never. Kira paced harder, harder, trying to wipe the bad thoughts from her mind. The bad thoughts kept hammering their way in and Kira grunted in horror, dropping to her knees.

 

Doesn'tdeservedoesn'tdeservedoesn'tdeserve...

 

Kira used the technique Jasin had shown her, emptying her mind and allowing the thoughts to pass through. She felt a frustrated thought shoot through her mind and then the foreign presence was gone. Leaning her head back, she sighed in relief. What the kark...?

 

* * *

 

Vette walked briskly through Kaas City on her morning jog. Clad in a tight black speedsuit, she sprinted through the town square and stopped, looking up at the big statue in the center of the square. She remembered when she'd been just a treasure hunter, she probably would've found a way to steal the thing. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

 

I should go to Korriban and explore the tombs again, just for old times' sake.

 

She frowned for a moment, but then grinned that sounded really good, actually. A vacation from the Sith-y stuff, getting out from under Quinn's annoying gaze. Her eyes widened and her pupils dilated.

 

I must go to Korriban. I must go to Korriban.

 

Suddenly stiff, she walked woodenly up out of the plaza, her eyes unblinking. She suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to get to Korriban via a different shuttle, not Methic's ship. She did not find it odd at all that she knew exactly which bay that shuttle would be in.

 

* * *

 

Jaesa Willsaam Quinn walked into the hangar with the strange shuttle, her wooden gait taking her to its boarding ramp. She did not find it odd at all that she did not recognize the female Twi'lek at the foot of the ramp even though she'd known the Twi'lek for years, nor did she find it odd that the Twi'lek's eyes were as wide and vacant as Jaesa's own.

 

Jaesa and the Twi'lek boarded the ship together.

 

* * *

 

Vette did not find it odd at all that she did not recognize the human female in the shuttle with her, even though she had lived on the same ship as the female for about two years. She did not find it odd that the female human was clad in her underwear, either. Nor did she find it odd that there was another female human in the ship, clad in a brown jumpsuit.

 

Nor did she find it odd that when the human sat down in the pilot's seat, she programmed the ship for Korriban without question.

 

* * *

 

Mako programmed the coordinates for Korriban and launched the shuttle. It was very hard to pilot the shuttle with her pupils dilated so small, but then she did not find that odd at all–because there was another mind thinking for her, another hand guiding her piloting skills.

 

This isn't right, Mako's partially-cybernetic brain said.

 

That, Mako did find odd. Why would this not be right? Everything was totally normal, even the Twi'lek female and the other human female in the bra and panties in the back of the shuttle.

 

Everything was perfect.

Chapter 6

 

Methic strolled briskly into the Fury, a frown on his face. He had looked everywhere; where was Vette? He walked into the cockpit and found Quinn sitting at the computer terminal, typing distractedly.

 

"Quinn, have you seen Vette?"

 

Quinn turned in his chair. "No. Have you seen Jaesa?"

 

"No."

 

Methic frowned. Vette always went on a run each morning, so it wasn't surprising that she wasn't at the Fury. What was odd was that she hadn't returned yet, and he hadn't been able to locate her at any of her usual stops at Kaas City. And Jaesa not being at the Fury was odd, period. She hated going out on Dromund Kaas.

 

"So you haven't seen either of them all day?" he asked.

 

Quinn shook his head. "I awoke and Jaesa was gone. And her robes were still in their drawers."

 

"Well, that's not so odd. If she went out she wouldn't do it dressed as a Jedi."

 

Quinn shrugged. "We need to find them."

 

Methic nodded. "Pierce, guard the ship!"

 

He and Quinn sprinted down the ramp and hopped on their speeders. They shot off side-by-side to Kaas City. They stopped at the information center and Quinn activated the records for the plaza security cameras from the past few hours. Methic frowned, concerned, as he watched a recording as Vette jogged through the plaza, and then abruptly stopped in mid-run. Then she turned and walked slowly out of the plaza. The cameras caught her leaving Kaas City toward the spaceport, and after that she disappeared.

 

"From the look of it, Vette must've left Dromund Kaas," Quinn said. "I wonder if Jaesa went with her?"

 

Methic bit his lip. "But why would she, or they, leave without telling us?"

 

Quinn shook his head helplessly. "I don't know, my lord."

 

* * *

 

Dha was starting to worry about Mako. He sprinted out into Kaas City, Torian and Gault in tow. They were just about to reach the landing when Methic and Quinn entered. They stopped and looked at each other.

 

"What's wrong?" Methic asked.

 

"Mako's missing," Dha replied.

 

"Missing?" He exchanged glances with Quinn. "Really?"

 

"Yeah, why? Something wrong?"

 

Dha frowned. It wasn't like Methic to act so suspicious. Surely he had nothing to do with Mako's disappearance; Dha would suspect Darth Nox over Methic. He'd never liked the Twi'lek.

 

"Jaesa and Vette are missing, too," Methic said. "Vette was last seen coming towards the spaceport."

 

Dha gestured to Torian and Gault. "We were just here visiting the Mandalorian enclave. I don't know where Mako could've gone."

 

"No clue?" Methic asked. "Not even an idea?"

 

Dha shook his head. "She didn't tell me she had anywhere to go?"

 

The five of them turned and ran into the spaceport quickly. Quinn gave his access code to the dockmaster and they entered his office, quickly looking at the travel logs. Dha stood by the door, blaster gripped firmly in his hand. Something was definitely wrong here and he wasn't about to let his guard down.

 

"Got them," Quinn said. "Only shuttle leaving during the time."

 

"Destination?" Methic asked.

 

Quinn's voice quavered. "Korriban, my lord. They went to Korriban."

 

* * *

 

Elara Dorne had not been to Korriban for years even before she deserted the Imperial military, but that fact, nagging at the back of her brain, did little to stop her feet as she continued walking through the dank tombs. She had been filing reports on the attack on Oricon when the sudden urge to go to Korriban, immediately, had swept over her. Gathering her gear, she'd set out, not bothering to alert Prudii. Why did he need to know?

 

She finally reached her destination; the large, open chamber at the end of the caverns. It was the onetime resting place of Tulak Hord. Inside the tomb were several other figures; Elara automatically moved into line with the others standing at attention in front of the coffin-turned-throne. They stood there for a long time; Elara didn't bother to measure how long passed. She just stood, an obedient servant.

 

Eventually, two more beings entered–beings that, though Elara felt she should've known, she did not–a human female and a white-skinned alien female. They walked into line beside Elara. Then, as one, the six beings in line knelt, bowing before the figure on the throne. Shadowed by the dim lighting, the figure gestured to the two rigid beings by her side. They walked woodenly forward and handed Elara and the others blue-and-black uniforms.

 

"Strip," commanded the form on the throne.

 

* * *

 

Akaavi Spar huddled and clutched at her head, resisting the urge to scream. Dankin ran into the room and put his hands on her shoulders. Akaavi bit her lip until it bled, letting the blood flow from the chin of her helmet. She quoted the Resol'nare to herself over and over until the pressure in her head let up.

 

"What's wrong, Akaavi?" Dankin demanded.

 

"I felt...a presence in my mind!" Akaavi said. "Urging me to obey. I only barely resisted."

 

"That explains things," Dankin said, "Risha has disappeared. Corso was the last to see her, several hours ago, and he said she knocked him out and left the ship."

 

Akaavi dropped from her huddled position and pulled her helmet off, wiping blood and spit from her chin and the helmet's rim. She panted.

 

"It was...odd," she said. "I...almost complied with the voice's commands."

 

Dankin patted her on the shoulder. "Come on, we'll talk to the Jedi. They can help."