Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Least of all this.

“Some say the Devil is dead, 

The Devil is dead, the Devil is dead;

Some say the Devil is dead

And buried in Killarney!

More would say he rose again,

More would say he rose again;

More would say he rose again

And joined the British Army!”

- The Wolf Tonnes

1) THE SWEETNESS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LIE

“The Jedi preach non-attachment with a self-righteous ferocity, my young Apprentice. They delude themselves into believing that the only way to truly hear the will of the Force is to cut oneself off from all other ‘distractions’. Of course, in the doing, they by proxy cut themselves off from the Force itself; for the Force is in all things. And so, when they have at last attained their absurd goal, and strain to catch the whispers of the Force’s will, they will hear naught but that which surrounds them: which is to say, nothing. It is this nothing that the Jedi seek, for to them, it is peace, and an indication that all is proceeding in the galaxy perfectly according to the will of the Force; no matter how horrible. The ultimate form of self-delusion: the sweetness at the bottom of the lie.

A poison may be among the sweetest things in the galaxy, my Apprentice; yet it is a poison still.”

- Darth Tyranus to Asajj Ventress

“The power to destroy life is now in your hands.”

The voice might as well have been a droid for all the emotion it held. In fact, the words were said so coldly, and so clinically, that Ezra couldn’t help but shiver under the weight of their freezing indifference. 

And then the words themselves sank in, and his shiver became a gasp of horror.

Kanan had been right. Maul had tricked him; tricked all of them. And now it was too late to do anything about it.

“No…” he breathed, “No; No, stop! I don’t want it! Turn it off!”

He rushed forward to yank the holocron from its place, only to be hurled back by a wave of energy.

The voice rang out again. “Only a master and a student together may end this.”

Master! He had to get to Kanan; had to get him and bring him…

A searing pain shot through his head; his vision went white, and then black. And somewhere in the back of his mind, the small part of him that was connected to Kanan was screaming.

Because Kanan was screaming too.

Maul.

Maul was killing his master.

And now there was no way to stop what was coming in time. 

“Only a master and a student together may end this.” the voice repeated.

“I KNOW!” he screamed (he shouldn’t have. His head still hurt.) “I heard you the first time, OKAY! But my master is dying! I’ve got to stop this alone, do you understand?!”

The voice shifted to a masculine tone, with a touch of derision in it. “One is never alone, so long as you have the Force.”

“But the Force is not MY MASTER!”

The voice said nothing. Fear that he’d said the wrong thing began to crush down, and was just beginning to considering begging for forgiveness when:

“Well spoken, young Jedi. The Force is not your master.” A blue figure flickered into being between Ezra and the holocron. “But I could be.”

The figure was tall; imposing. Hooded and cloaked, with a T-slit helmet that reminded Ezra of Sabine’s. Two lightsabers hung at his belt, both clearly battle-worn. The chill of the previous voice’s indifference was nothing compared to the cold blanketing the area now. 

“A Sith master?” Ezra finally managed to croak out. “Don’t think Kanan would take too kindly to that. ‘Fraid I’ll have to pass.”

The Sith (if it was a Sith) did something then Ezra could never have seen coming in a million years: he laughed. “Always a pleasure to meet a kid with spunk. So, Kanan; that’d be your Jedi minder, then?”

“He’s...he’s my master.”

“Yeah, I figured that; but is he your minder?”

Confusion. “...What?”

“Does he mind you? Mind what you say, mind what you do, and learn from it just as much as you learn from him?”

“...Yeah, I guess…”

“Boom, there you are. And since this Kanan seems like a fairly tolerable guy, I’ll throw in saving him for free as well as shutting off this here Temple.”

“Provided I become your...Apprentice.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“...Can you save him?”

“Don’t know yet. But I’ll certainly give it my darndest try.”

Ezra wanted to say yes. He wanted to say yes with every fiber of his being. He just needed to know one more thing. “Show me your face.”

For a moment, he was afraid he’d pushed too far. But then the figure reached up, and with a twist, removed the helmet. 

The man’s face was angular; angular and harsh. Long dark hair flowed down the back of his head, in much the same way Kanan’s did whenever he let it down. Old eyes stared back into his; brown, with hundreds of regrets swimming in their depths. 

Not the eyes of every out-of-control Dark-Side user he’d ever met.

“Satisfied?”

“...For now. Mind if I ask the name of my new teacher?”

“Not at all, brother. Name’s Revan. You?”

“Ezra. Ezra Bridger. And you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He reached out his hand; the man took it. And was it his imagination, or was there something solid beneath that pale blue light?

The hologram vanished; and with it, a hum Ezra hadn’t even noticed until it was gone. Gingerly, he slid his fingers ever closer to the holocron. A sigh of relief when the energy from before failed to reappear. He slid the eerie object free, and then into his tunic. Now, back the way he came. Back to save his…

His train of thought ground to a shrieking halt as his mind fought against the image it was confronted with. An Imperial TIE Fighter, somehow suspended mid-air without a pilot. He looked up...and found the answer to his unasked question.

Atop the ship stood Darth Vader.

“Well,” came the muffled voice of Revan, “This was bound to happen sooner or later. Sorry brother; wouldn’t normally do this, but like the man said, time’s a wastin.”

A massive wave of ice rose in the back of Ezra’s mind, and then crashed down, sweeping everything else away. He had just enough time to wonder how bad of a mistake he’d made before the glacier engulfed him and everything else faded to black.

Ahsoka had felt the moment two new presences flared into being: both Dark beyond anything she’d ever felt before. One was the burning rage she was familiar with from the likes of Ventress, only ramped up to unimaginable levels. The other...the other was like the cold, forbidding ice mountains of Illum. Not a trace of emotion to be found within; only calculating indifference. 

And they were both standing practically on top of Ezra.

Apparently, Kanan had felt them too. “Ezra…”

And then the man was gone, abandoning her to face Maul alone. 

“Such a shame,” Maul sighed. “I was so hoping to continue our conversation.”

“Shut up.” Ahsoka spat. 

“Now now, Lady Tano; such behaviour is unbecoming of a Jedi.”

“I’m no Jedi.” she stated firmly. “But fortunately for you, I have more pressing concerns.”

“Ah yes; the arrivals. I must admit, I was not expecting a pair of them. I had heard rumors of Vader’s apprentice; perhaps the man was wise enough to realize it requires two to operate this weapon.”

A sudden stab of fear that she immediately brought under control. “...Weapon?” she asked, as calmly as she could.

“Indeed.” Maul purred. “A relic of the ancient Republic; a trap set by the Sith for both of their greatest enemies at the time. A trap I had intended to spring upon Vader; but it appears my choice to attack your companion has now left us both at a disadvantage. I cannot face both Vader and his apprentice; and you will not trust me again.”

“I trust you.” she said. “I trust you to do whatever you think is necessary to retake your place at your Master’s side; up to and including killing his attack dog.”

“You think I intend to rejoin Sidious?” Maul asked incredulously. “No; I intend to see him destroyed. I had intended to start at the bottom and work my way up, so to speak; but if Vader has an apprentice, perhaps he is not as loyal to Sidious as I imagined. And small wonder. I think my work here is done, Lady Tano. Either Vader and his pet will win this fight, or Jarrus and young Ezra. If you wish to sway the outcome, I suggest you hurry.”

Damn but he was right. Ahsoka deactivated her lightsabers and hurried after Kanan. Blind, he would be no help to Ezra. He’d barely been able to hold his own against Maul, even with her help. If Vader and his...companion were as strong as they felt, he’d stand no chance at all.

Maul’s crazed laughter echoed behind her as she sped towards the fight.

Darth Vader was not often surprised. 

Some of that had to do with the Force, naturally. A certain level of prescience was to be expected there. But mostly it was because Anakin Skywalker had thrown himself recklessly into the nearest danger without bothering to learn all the pertinent facts. A tendency that had gotten him killed. Darth Vader was not Anakin Skywalker.

So, when the source of the Temple’s activation turned out to be a mere boy, a boy he knew for a fact had been a mere candle in the Light Side at their last meeting but was now practically drowning in the sub-zero temperatures of the true power of the Dark Side, Darth Vader may have been slightly...perturbed. But on another level, the boy’s age mattered not a whit. He had known the power here could only be wielded by the exceptionally strong. That said strength belonged to a mere child was not unheard of; and perhaps the Force had led him here for that very reason. Starkiller had proven a disappointment; maybe this new Dark power would prove more useful. 

“The Force is with you, young one;” he thundered down at the boy, “But you are not a Jedi yet.”

The boy grinned. For a moment, Vader was suddenly looking down at the hungry jaws of a nexu, smiling in anticipation; then the moment was gone. 

“On that we can agree.” laughed the child. 

Vader frowned behind his mask. Such nonchalance should have at the very least piqued his anger; instead, it felt as if he were a mere distraction for some unfathomable monster swimming below. “There is a place for someone of your ability with the Empire; join me, and I will see you learn the control necessary to harness your newfound power.”

“Newfound? Hardly, brother. As for your oh so generous offer…’fraid I’ve already made a teensy promise to the opposition. Have to pass.”

The rage was building now; patience had never been Vader’s strong suit. “It would be wise for you to reconsider.”

“Probably.” the boy shrugged. “But I’ve never been one for the wise option. Best get outta my way now, brother; you’re way outta your league here.”

Vader scoffed and ignited his lightsaber. “I am unafraid of a mere boy.”

A blue saber snapped to life in the boy’s hand. “Then you will die braver than most. Dark and sinister man...have at thee.”

Vader gathered the Force to his will...and jumped.

One advantage to cybernetic limbs: they allowed him to push his body beyond normal physical limits while preserving his strength in the Force for true combat. He fully expected the boy to falter beneath the weight of his blows; Djem So was a punishing Form to face at the best of times, much less when mixed with the aggression typical of Juyo. So when the boy struck back with blows as powerful as Vader’s own…

Darth Vader was very, very surprised.

The boy was doing something extremely unusual: he was counterattacking using the Sixth Form, Niman. It was a Form designed to give oneself the time to study one’s opponent and decide how best to undermine their strengths. Practically no one ever relied on the Form itself for defense; and to attack effectively with it was all but unheard of. The last Master of the Form, Depa Billaba, had perished long ago. Which was why Vader had never bothered to train against it. 

He was severely regretting that decision now.

Niman had no obvious weaknesses; but neither did it have any true strengths. Except, ironically enough, the one way to truly match Vader’s cybernetic prowess: Force-enhanced physical exertion. All other Forms (save the Second) relied on the Force intrinsically to gain an advantage: Niman could theoretically be taught to a non-Force sensitive. But if one had the Force, one also had a multitude of ways to begin prodding the enemy’s defenses. 

Vader could only be grateful for the lack of debris: Niman users were all too capable of fighting while directing a barrage of Force-accelerated ammunition. He opted to fall back into true Djem So; the counter-attack Form. If his opponent wished to study him, he would take the opportunity to do the same.

“Hmm,” the boy’s brow furrowed behind his flowing blade. “Thought you’d be easier than this.”

“You will find,” Vader growled from behind his mask, “that I am full of surprises.”

Vader angled his next deflection to be successful with the application of a single hand; the other reached out through the Force...and squeezed.

The boy’s eyes widened as he felt the grip on his throat...and that was all Vader saw before Force lightning filled his vision. 

He was forced to abandon his attack in favor of deflecting the strike. Even with both hands on his hilt, his boots began to scrape along the stone floor as he was pushed back. Then, abruptly as it had come, the lightning vanished. 

“Huh,” said the boy as he reignited his lightsaber. “Guess you are full of surprises, brother. Time for a few of my own, then.”

When the attack came, it was in the Form of dirty Makashi: the Second Form. But the Second Form as Count Dooku himself would have despaired to see. Precise strikes from the boy’s hands, feet, knees, and elbows came as fast as ones from his lightsaber. 

“Learned this fighting cyber-pirates with Force pikes,” the boy grunted mid-kick, “Never thought I’d get the chance to use it elsewhere.”

Vader’s blade came up and caught the boy’s in a lock; once he was secure in his position, he reached out and caught the flying fist headed for his throat. “And now, you shall never have the chance to use it again.”

The boy just grinned once again. “Let’s agree to disagree.”

Vader stumbled as the boy’s blade retracted; it was that stumble that saved his life. How could he not have noticed: the boy’s lightsaber doubled as a blaster. 

His respirator was now sparking heavily, and the boy had taken the opportunity to rotate his once again active blade and sever Vader’s left hand just below the wrist. Vader could only stare cluelessly at the miniature demon standing before him. “...Who are you?”

“No one of consequence.”

“I must know.”

“Get used to disappointment.”

And now that blue blade was crashing down on his in ferocious Juyo the likes of which even his Master would be hard pressed to match. The duel was over from that very moment; all Vader could do was prolong the inevitable. 

Kanan felt it the minute one of the Dark presences attacked the other. So, there was infighting among the Sith. Typical. For some reason, Ezra’s Force signature seemed to be moving in sync with the Cold One; the one that had attacked first. Perhaps Ezra had felt they were the more reasonable of the two and decided to help?

He snorted at that. A Sith, being reasonable. Sure. When Mustafar froze over. Still, Ezra must’ve thrown in with them for a reason. Perhaps one wished to open the holocron, and one wished to destroy it. But which one would Ezra have chosen? 

Probably the one in favor of opening. 

He put on an extra burst of speed.

A flash of pain came from Vader (he’d identified the other Dark presence now); the other Sith had somehow managed to hurt that monster. Good; Sith hurting each other was always a good thing. So, Vader must be the one against opening the holocron. Kanan never thought he’d say this, but the Sith had the right idea: messing with Dark artifacts never ended well. 

He might not have been able to see when he came around the corner, but he could certainly feel it. The Dark was battering everything here; if there’d been debris, he had no doubt it’d been cleared out early into the fight. The storm of Force around the three (two?) fighting presences would never have let it stay without grabbing it for ammunition. 

Ezra was...doing nothing. Well, not nothing. He was moving; and moving aggressively. Ezra’s lightsaber was certainly battering against Vader’s: he could hear the familiar sizzle. But Ezra’s signature itself was strangely...aloof. As if watching from above.

And another odd thing; the Cold One appeared to be battling without a lightsaber. At least, he could only hear two blades clashing: Vader’s and Ezra’s. Had the other Sith not brought one? Were they the Master, and thus considered their apprentice so far beneath them it was unneeded? Or was the Sith merely assisting Ezra through Battle Meditation, dampening Vader’s Dark power to protect the kid?

It was only when he noticed what should’ve been there to notice and wasn’t that he finally put it together:

The holocron’s signature was gone.

Somehow, Ezra had opened the kriffing thing. And whatever had been inside it was now inside Ezra.

His horror froze him in place as the battle continued. He couldn’t attack his padawan; not even with that, that thing inside him. But he couldn’t help Ezra either; this...this was beyond his ability to fix. The holocron must’ve latched onto Ezra as its only chance of surviving Vader’s destructive intent; but the question remained why? Why had Ezra allowed it? Why had his apprentice…

Oh. 

Right. 

He’d been blinded. 

Ezra had felt it; probably keenly. And he had no doubt the kid would’ve done anything to tear his way through Vader to get to his master. Especially if, as Ezra probably feared, Kanan was unable to help Ahsoka against Maul.

This. This was why the Jedi preached non-attachment. And now, because he had failed as a teacher, Ezra had allied with the Dark. 

There was nothing he could do but stand there.

Ahsoka saw the moment when not-Ezra’s blade connected with Vader’s mask. Kanan had apparently already put things together; why else would he be standing by, despair practically pouring out of him. No matter; they’d deal with the holocron later. For now, Vader was the prior…

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

It was impossible.

Yet it was there. 

Anakin Skywalker’s eye stared out at her from the mask of Darth Vader. 

The gold burning in its’ center flared up in recognition, and then faded away as remorse clouded the Force between them. 

“Snips…”

Not-Ezra’s blade flashed out, severing her Master’s one remaining hand. A layered voice rumbled from Not-Ezra’s throat. “So passeth a worthy opponent. May the Force be with you.”

She leapt forward. “NOOOOOOO!”

It was too late.

A beam of blue light sliced cleanly through a black armored-throat. 

There was a beat of silence…

And then the Force itself seemed to sigh in relief as the body of her Master crumpled to the ground. 

Not-Ezra calmly deactivated his lightsaber, clipped it on his belt, and turned to face them. “Well I’ll be. Looks like you did just fine on your own. Kid was worried for nothing. Oh, and you may want to carry the kid outta here before the Temple collapses. Gonna be awhile before he wakes up.”

Kanan started. “What do you mean, wakes…”

The cold presence was suddenly gone, retreating back into the holocron. Ezra swayed a moment in a nonexistent breeze...and then promptly passed out on the floor.

“...Up.”

Darth Vader was dead. 

Maul had felt it, even as far away from the planet as he’d already gotten. Of course, Skywalker was never going to be the sort to go quietly. He only hoped Tano had learned the truth of Vader’s identity before the man fell. It would have been the icing on the uj, so to speak. 

The apprentice, whoever they were, had lived. They had disappeared from the Force the moment the battle was won, but Maul was well aware of what shielding felt like on the other end. Perhaps they were now working together with Tano and her band; perhaps not. The matter was irrelevant. His main goal in coming to Malachor had been achieved; now it was on to the next.

The Jedi holocron he’d stolen from the Rebels’ ship glowed brightly in the dark of the TIE Fighter’s cockpit. It was a small affair, and simple in construction, but he would’ve been able to recognize its’ creator from the quality alone. 

Kenobi had always been a perfectionist. 

With enough meditation, Maul trusted the Force and the holocron together would reveal Kenobi’s location. And when they finally met again, Maul would extend the Jedi the same offer he had once made Tano:

Join him, and kill the Emperor.

And Kenobi would agree.

After all, what else could the Jedi possibly want more than that?

Darth Vader was dead.

Alone in his hut on Tatooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi had felt his former Apprentice’s passing. It seemed Vader had finally met his match.

Obi-Wan would never have to face him again.

Still, it would not do to dwell on the matter. The Emperor was still alive; and if anything, he would now be searching even harder for a new tool to use against the galaxy. Luke’s training would perhaps have to begin slightly earlier than he had anticipated; but other than that, things would continue much as they had.

Provided the Force willed it, of course.

Darth Vader was dead. 

The Emperor poked and prodded along the trail his Apprentice had left in the Force, searching for the mistake that had led to Vader’s demise far afield. 

He found nothing. 

And he hated it. 

A replacement would have to be selected. Several Acolytes, Inquisitors and Hands were strong enough to fulfill the role (for the time being); he could focus on finding a true successor much later. More importantly, the balance of the Imperial war machine had just shifted dramatically. Without Vader to oppose him, Tarkin would become much more difficult to control. 

Thrawn and Krennic would perhaps have to be raised to match him; but not too highly. It wouldn’t do for his underlings to begin getting ideas. 

Perhaps Endor might suffice...and a reassignment of the 501st...yes...yes, that could work.

And with that, the Emperor put all thoughts of Darth Vader from his mind for what he thought would be the last time.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Least of all this.

Author’s Note: As I’m sure most of you are wondering (one person already pointed it out), there is in fact an age issue at work in this fic. To be specific, the ship of Mara Jade and Cal Kestis. In old Legends canon, Mara is just simply way too young to work into the timeline close to Rebels. However, since Legends is no longer canon, I could just say “Your sandbox; my castle.”

But I won’t. 

Instead, here are some reasons I’m upping Mara Jade’s age. One, Vader’s dismemberment. With a half-dead Apprentice as his best option, Palpatine was bound to go looking for something stronger. So what if it's a kid? He’s had plenty of practice with both Maul and young Anakin. Second, Project Force Harvester; the operation conducted by Inquisitors to gather young Force sensitives and indoctrinate them. If Mara Jade was any younger than what I’m making her here, she would’ve been way more likely to be snapped up by that than Palpatine himself. Thirdly, it never made sense to me for Palpatine to divide his attention between multiple Hands. If he wants a horde of barely competent Dark Siders, that’s what the Inquisitors are for. I mean, the dude was dead set on both Maul and Anakin for years apiece, and even spent a really long time wooing Dooku. Ergo: one Hand, snapped up early, began training not long after ROTS. 

I hope that suffices for an explanation. 

Also while Revan may look like Keanu Reeves, he talks like Matthew McConaughey. Because while he may look like a stone cold badass, on the inside he’s the shifty uncle who thinks if yain’t cheatin, yain’t trying. Cheers!

2) THE LEAD THAT STRINGS THE HANGMAN’S NAG

“Haar davaabir ret duraan verborir, al’ni rejorhaa'ir bel’ulik cuyir nu.”

(A hangman may be above a bribe, but I can assure you his horse is not.)

- Old Mandalorian saying about corruption in government

In the end, there was really only one decision Palpatine could make. 

While she may have been a bit on the young side, she was still more than competent. Her success rate paralleled that of padawan-age Anakin Skywalker, and her power was on the same level as Kenobi’s had been. True, her lightsaber training had been neglected in favor of more esoteric teachings, but that was easily remedied. He just had to provide her with an instructor not likely to resent her for being promoted over their head. 

He knew just the one. And fortunately, he had an assignment on hand (heh, Hand,) that should smooth over any remaining hard feelings in the relationship. 

Not that he intended for them to grow too close; such an arrangement had spelt disaster with Vader’s last student. One mission, perhaps two, and they would again be separated. But in the meantime, they would learn from each other all that they could. 

And who knew? He was in need of a new Grand Inquisitor as well. If Mara Jade could bring Third Brother up to snuff, perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone. 

A stroke of inspiration struck him, and he sent a quick message from his desk to the Second Sister. She would relay his instructions to Third Brother, and then proceed to carry out her own. He couldn’t wait to see the chaos they unleashed with their new positions. 

The doors in front of him hissed open, and the last remaining object of his attention slid respectfully into the room. 

Mara Jade came to attention the perfect amount of distance before his desk, and then lowered herself onto her knees in deference. “What is thy bidding, my Master?” she said with a bowed head.

“My bidding?” he said with a mock frown (he’d gotten quite good at those over the years). “Is it so far from the realm of possibility that I would request your company simply because I enjoy it, my Hand?”

“Not at all, my Lord. However, you have long told me to be efficient in all things; and a meeting with less than two purposes is no meeting at all.”

“How true, how true.” He purred. “Well said, my Hand. You do my teachings credit. And it is for that reason I have called you here today.”

“I hear, and obey.”

“Then hear this, my Hand; from this moment forth, you are Hand no longer. You are now a Sith in name; Dark Lady and Heir to the Line of Bane. From henceforth, you shall be known as Darth…”

The name came to him in a whisper from the Force. “...Jadis. Rise, my new Apprentice.”

Jadis did so, her delight and ambition shining in the Force. Yet there was a tinge of anxiety present as well. That wouldn’t do. “You worry, my Apprentice. Worry, I think, that Darth Vader shall challenge you for your new position. I am afraid I must ease your worry with bittersweet news, my dear; Darth Vader has been...vanquished.”

The incredulous disbelief on her face was far too easy to see. 

“I know, my dear; it scarcely seems beyond belief. Yet Lord Vader’s demise has undoubtedly occurred; and at the hands of enemies of the Empire.”

He felt her rage spike at that. Good. “Your first assignment as my Apprentice shall be to locate these poor misguided souls; but do not attempt to engage them yet. They are no match for the might of the Empire, yet I should hate to lose my new heir in the same manner as the first. Instead, follow their histories. Learn from their pasts. And when you have discovered their strengths and weaknesses, we shall show these miscreants the generosity and mercy of the Empire.”

Jadis’ eyes were shining with flecks of gold. “It shall be my pleasure, my Lord.”

“Excellent. Come,” he rose, “Walk with me. I have a gift for you.”

“A gift, my Master?”

“Indeed. A ship, in fact. A fine vessel; highly experimental, of course, with modifications befitting Force-sensitive pilots. It’s previous owner was perhaps one of the most gifted Force-blind in the Imperial Navy; I highly doubt even our best TIE Pilots could manage to keep up with the changes she implemented. They should be more than within your skill range however, my dear; and if they are not, I have provided you with an instructor until you feel comfortable.”

“I’m sure I shall live up to your expectations, Master.”

“I’m sure you will as well, my dear. Ah! Here we are.”

The ship sat idling in his personal docking bay: it seemed Third Brother had not delayed in the slightest. “There she sits: The Rogue Shadow. A point-three hyperdrive, stealth systems, in-built training facilities, and I am assured the finest armor available from Sienar.”

“She’s beautiful.” breathed Jadis.

“Indeed she is.” He wasn’t looking at the ship. “However, such a vessel I feel deserves a new name. You are the farthest thing possible from a rogue, my dear; instead, it is my pleasure to hereby gift you with...the Jade Shadow. May it serve you well, when all other ships fail.”

The ramp of the Shadow lowered, and Jadis’ new instructor marched smartly down the ramp. The Third Brother knelt a tolerable distance from the pair, and bowed his head in respect. “I await your destination, my Lord.”

“You will be waiting a long time, my friend,” he chuckled, “Darth Jadis is to be your passenger, instead.”

If the Third Brother was surprised by the emergence of a new Sith, he failed to show it. “I hear, and obey.”

“Gooood.” he purred. “You are to convey her with all haste to the planet of Malachor; upon your journey, you are to evaluate her skill with a lightsaber. I have no doubt you will give me a good report on your return.”

The implied threat was obvious to Third Brother, but completely obscured to Jadis: make her the best, or else.

He turned to his Apprentice. “The Inquisitorius have long been bereft of direct leadership, my dear. I fear their training in...other matters has not been up to standards of late. A refresher course would not be amiss.”

“I understand, my Master.”

“Excellent. I shall await your triumphant returns; pray do not disappoint me.”

They wouldn’t. He had foreseen it. So as he watched the Jade Shadow pull away from the landing pad, his mind was already racing ahead to other matters...and to the meeting with Tarkin, Krennic, and Thrawn he had already arranged.

It promised to be an interesting one.

 Ezra awoke to a blinding light.

At least, it felt that way. His senses had been seemingly dialed up to eleven; everything was bright, everything was cold, and everything hurt.

“Owww…” he groaned. “Anyone get the tags on that speeder?”

“Sure did.”

Kanan!

“I think they were, ‘U, R, D, U, and M’.”

“U, R...HEY!”

“What were you thinking?” Kanan growled (and why was Kanan wearing a mask?). “Opening up a Sith holocron; you got extremely lucky, you know that right?”

“No,” he tried to shake his head, and then hissed in pain. “No I don’t. What happened?”

“How far back do you remember?”

“Well...I put the holocron in...it said I now had ‘the power to destroy life’, or something like that...and that the only way to deactivate it was a master and student working together. I was gonna come get you; I promise! But then…”

Kanan sighed. “Then you felt what happened on our end.”

Ezra nodded gingerly. “I thought you were dying. And, well…”

“You thought sacrificing yourself was worth it if it meant you could stop things. Ezra, you kriffing idiot.”

He was on the verge of protest when the last of Kanan’s sentence sank in. Had...had Kanan just swore? Kanan never swore. Ever. 

“Did you really think Ahsoka and I couldn’t handle Maul? Even if I couldn’t have made it in time, she certainly could have. You and Maul were able to work together to retrieve the holocron in the first place; do you trust Ahsoka less than him?”

“NO!” Shouldn’t have shouted; the room was going blurry again. It swam for a moment, then shimmered back into focus. “No,” he said, much more calmly. “It’s not that.”

“Then what? What could that holocron possibly have promised you to convince you to let it out?”

Kanan knew. Somehow, he knew exactly what Revan had promised: to save Ezra’s master. His friend. His family. 

“Hey brother, cut the kid some slack.”

Ezra jerked his head to the side as Revan materialized on the opposite end of the Phantom. 

The strangely no-longer-blue Sith drawled as he lounged on the bunk. “Don’t pester him; he’s had a hard day.”

Kanan went extremely still. “I thought we locked you up.”

“Nah brother; just my casing. My bones are still rattling round, as you can see. Or not.” Revan chuckled darkly.

Ezra couldn’t help it. “Why aren’t you blue?” he blurted.

Revan frowned. “Was I before?”

“Yes!”

“Huh. Guess I was mostly dead, then. As opposed to only slightly dead now.”

“I’d prefer it if you were all dead.” rumbled Kanan.

“Believe me brother, so would I. Spent more than long enough poking my nose in the galaxy’s business. But you know how it is; spend a few thousand years stuck in one place, and sooner or later you’ll do anything to kill the boredom.”

Kanan’s voice was as dry as the desert. “Including tricking a kid into being your Apprentice?”

“Trick? Who said anything bout a trick? Every last word I told ol’ Ezra here was the Force-honest truth. Not my fault tall, dark, and brooding decided to show up at the worst possible time.”

“How convenient. For all we know, you could’ve called Vader to Malachor.”

“Brother, if I coulda called someone to get me off that rock, don’t you think I woulda done so a little sooner than a thousand years ago?”

Kanan didn’t reply.

“So…” Revan leaned back with his hands behind his head. “Vader, huh. I like it. Name fit him.”

“And does your name fit you?” Kanan asked slowly.

“Ought to; I picked it, after all.”

Kanan’s presence in the Force, which until then had been a carefully controlled irritation, spiked with fear.

“Ah;” Revan grinned. “Put it together then, did you?”

“ Darth Revan.” Kanan hissed. 

“Just Revan, brother; Darth title passed on to someone else a long time ago.”

“A Sith is a Sith, no matter how old.”

Revan shrugged. “If you say so. Though if I was any kind of a decent Sith Lord, I probably would’ve stabbed your padawan in the back the minute Vader offered me a job.”

“Vader offered you a job?” Ezra squeaked.

“It’s what Sith do, kid.”

“And it’s what you did to my Apprentice.” spat Kanan. “Ergo, still a Sith.”

“You know what; fair point. Still, didn’t take the offer; that’s gotta count for something.”

Ezra looked at Kanan. “He’s right, you know.”

“Vader was the Apprentice, Ezra; I have no doubt Darth Revan is more than familiar with how much offers from those are worth.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know Mee...hold up, that was the Apprentice?”

That brought Kanan up short. “You didn’t know?”

“Um, hello! Few thousand years outta date! I just thought he was a Master who got the position by having enough power to compensate for his lack of control!”

“Funny you should mention that…” came the voice of a certain Togruta from the direction of the cockpit, “I’m pretty sure that’s how he got the position of Jedi Knight. Then again, what else would you expect from the Chosen One?”

Ezra felt his whole world drop out from beneath him. The Chosen One...Anakin Skywalker?

“...You’re telling me,” Revan slowly enunciated. “That a Jedi Knight, strong enough to be considered the Chosen One, somehow managed to end up under the thumb of a Sith Master.”

“Sith Emperor, actually.” corrected Ahsoka.

Without another word, Revan stood, turned to face the wall...and began banging his head into it as hard as he could.

Ezra looked back and forth from Kanan to Ahsoka. “Should...should we stop him?”

“Why? I’m quite enjoying this.” smirked Ahsoka.

“You’ll have to share the memory with me later.” smiled Kanan. “The poetry of this is just sickening.”

“Wait…” Ezra’s mind was racing. “If I’m here...and Kanan’s here...and you’re there...WHO’S FLYING THE SHIP?”

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “Chopper, of course.”

“Oh. Wait, WHAT?”

Admiral Thrawn was a very cautious person.

So, when every high-ranking Imperial officer sans Darth Vader was summoned to a meeting with the Emperor, he thought it wise to immediately begin...investigating.

The Imperial Security Bureau was nominally under the command of Director Krennic; but there were still quite a few clones among its numbers. Clones whom he had met back in the war, and who remembered him with, if not fondness, respect. 

It wasn’t long at all before he found what he was looking for: a transmission received by Darth Vader on board the Executor. The contents of the message were unknown, but directly after its delivery Vader had leapt into his TIE Advanced and filed a course for a planet called Malachor.

The Sith Lord had yet to return.

Skywalker was a tough man to kill; it was the only reason Thrawn had not yet ruled out his survival as a possibility. However, it certainly appeared as though the Emperor believed in his Apprentice’s demise. The man would certainly never call all three of his remaining top men together unless it were to divide up Lord Vader’s duties.  

Those divisions and their consequences began to circulate through his mind. The 501st would be reassigned; would the rest of Death Squadron go with them? Or would they fall under the purview of Vader’s replacement? Was Vader even going to get a replacement? Tarkin and Krennic’s last true opposition to the Death Star was gone; would the Emperor double down on the idea? Or would he choose to explore other options? Things such as the Sun Crusher came to mind; and of course, Thrawn’s own TIE Defenders.

Any further speculation had to be put on hold for the moment: he had arrived. 

“Announcing Admiral Thrawn.” called out the distorted voice of an Imperial Guard. As he followed the soldier into the room, the first thing he noticed was that while Tarkin was already there, Krennic was not. Good. That meant he possibly had an early opportunity to face Tarkin directly in argument, as opposed to the tag-team strategy he was usually forced to defend against.

He strode forward, took his place next to Tarkin, and bowed from the waist. “Your Highness.”

“Well met, my friend.” rasped the voice of the Emperor. “Rise; we have much to discuss.”

“Announcing Director Krennic.” Another Imperial Guard marched into the room, the weasel-y looking Director close behind. Krennic, in his never-ending attempt to curry favor, chose to fall to one knee in the middle of his bow. “Your Imperial Highness.”

Thrawn had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“And so, we are all assembled then.” No claim of friendship for Krennic, apparently. “Leave us.”

The Guards did so, with the silent compliance befitting their station. 

The Emperor leaned backwards in his throne, and clasped his hands together beneath his jaw. “Darth Vader...is dead.”

So. Absolutely no preliminaries. That suited him just fine. Tarkin looked somewhat pleased; Krennic looked stunned. 

But he knew it was on him the Emperor’s gaze fell. “Some of you have perhaps...anticipated this event. Rest assured, I myself have made preparations should this event ever come to pass. My new Apprentice is already on the field, searching for those responsible. However…”

Here the Emperor leaned forward. “Death Squadron shall not be entrusted to them. Not yet. Admiral Thrawn: congratulations on your promotion. From this moment forth, you are the commander of both Death Squadron and the 501st. Your rank is to be Grand Admiral, with your second to be Admiral Ozzel. Is this...acceptable?”

He nodded. “More than acceptable, your majesty.”

“Good. Now, in view of your people’s...plight, and the threat beyond the galaxy’s edge, more strenuous measures have become necessary. Grand Moff Tarkin.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Your methods thus far have been mostly successful. However, you are needed more urgently elsewhere. Pacification is now of the utmost priority; by any means necessary. There awaits for you a new project orbiting the forest moon of Endor. It is now your highest priority. Anything you require shall be provided, and speedily. This project must be finished within three years. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly, your Highness.”

“Excellent. Now...for you, Director Krennic.”

The Director swallowed nervously. “How may I be of assistance to the Empire, my Lord?”

“The Death Star will soon be completed. Another project awaits you upon that date. However, at the moment, I have need of your intelligence services. My Apprentice is upon the trails of Darth Vader’s murderers; assist them in any way they deem advisable. You may begin your investigation with the history of the planet Malachor; my personal vaults shall be opened to you for perusal. Have a care where your mind ventures within them.”

“It shall be done, my Lord.”

“Go; do as I have commanded. Grand Admiral Thrawn; remain.”

There was no mistaking the ire in Tarkin and Krennic’s eyes as they passed him; understandable. To be alone with the Emperor was a privilege many would have killed for. To avoid having one’s rivals gain said privilege? Well...there were some fates worse than death.

“I have an assignment for you, Grand Admiral. A delicate operation; more so now that the balance of the galaxy has shifted. I wonder...will you be equal to the task?”

He snapped to attention. “I live to serve the Empire, your Highness.”

“Yes...yes, I think in your own way you do.” The Emperor mused. “Very well. Tarkin’s project is to be the construction of a second Death Star. I know you had hopes for your Defenders; and your idea remains meritable. However, they are not suitable for a multi-purpose role at this time. Therefore, I am dispatching you and your command to the Outer Rim.”

“...Might I be allowed to inquire as to why, my Lord?”

“To put it simply, Grand Admiral: supplies. We have already leveraged the resources the Empire possesses in the construction of Krennic’s creation. There remains now only one group with the necessary qualifications to assist in the making of a second...provided they never learn of its true purpose.”

Understanding dawned. “The Hutts.”

“Precisely. Our alliances with Jabba and his ilk must be precisely arranged if we wish to preserve them as a shield against those your people face. For should they learn of such enemies, I have no doubt they would abandon ship and flee...perhaps to the Corporate Sector.”

“Indeed. I shall see to it, your Majesty. Tarkin’s weapon will be constructed on time.”

“Excellent. Now; there is...one other purpose for your transfer to Hutt Space. You are no doubt familiar with Project Force Harvester?”

“Familiar enough, my Lord.”

“Hmm. It’s reach has grown long; very long indeed. However, it has not yet reached the territories controlled by the Hutts. And a Force-sensitive enslaved to the will of someone like Jabba could be disastrous to the Empire. If such an individual were to be freed...I have no doubt they would profess undying loyalty to the Empire for the act.”

“I understand, my Lord.”

“Gooood. The Second Sister shall accompany you upon your mission; not only will she be useful in the retrieval of potential recruits, but she shall also be quite an asset to you in the web of lies that is Outer Rim politics.”

“I am grateful for the assistance.” He wasn’t; more oversight. But he would take what he could get. And if said Force-sensitive was loyal to him above the Emperor? Well…

It would be only natural.

Tatooine.

Fitting, that Maul should find Kenobi here. 

It might not have been where they first met; but it was where their lives had first each touched the other. To think, if he had aimed just a little bit lower with his speeder that day, he might have deprived his Master of a new pawn…

Ah. The past was in the past. It was to the future he must look. Beginning with the destruction of Sidious.

“You are a hard man to find, Kenobi.”

The shrouded figure atop the dune never stirred. “That was the general idea.”

“Ah! But no longer, perhaps. I’m sure you have felt it: the ultimate demise of your former brother in arms.”

Kenobi said nothing.

“Your silence is answer enough.” Maul purred. “Tell me; with the Emperor’s dread enforcer gone, what shall you do now? I know you would not care to teach again,”  a flinch from the cloak, “To raise up a new student to face Sidious. And revenge is not the Jedi way. Yet you must agree the Emperor must be destroyed. So Kenobi, I ask: will you assist me?”

“...I cannot.”

“Cannot? Or will not?”

“Both. Neither. It hardly matters now. I am a relic of a bygone era, Maul; my help would be of little use to you.”

“No...no, that cannot be your reason…” He moved to stand beside the figure. 

It was a quiet scene Kenobi was staring down at; a typical desert hut, light streaming from the door. As he watched, a boy emerged from the hut and moved to face the sunsets. Blonde hair; blue eyes. Slight of stature. Utterly unremarkable.

But as the boy walked out upon the dunes, Maul could feel the truth of the matter. “...The Chosen One.”

“Yes.”

“...You have not trained him?”

“...No.”

“No matter; the harshness of the desert is in and of itself an effective teacher.” He crossed his arms. “But you must know he will need more eventually.”

“And he will. But not from me.”

For a moment, they stood in silence.

“...No.”

Maul raised his hands in defense. “I said nothing!”

“You wished to train him. That is unacceptable.”

“Train? No; no, I know my weaknesses Kenobi. I could not train my brother to withstand Sidious; I shall not try again.”

“Then what?”

Maul hummed. “It’s been said that experience is the best teacher. I would say that the experiences of others are even better. He will reshape the galaxy someday; perhaps you ought to begin illuminating him as to how the shape that came before this one failed.”

“The Republic was far better than the Empire can ever hope to be.”

“Perhaps. But I was referring to the failures of the Jedi, rather than the Senate. Both fell, in the end; but only one gave my former Master the noose for their own hanging.”

“The clones were Palpatine’s from the beginning.”

“No...no, Kenobi. First...they were Jedi Master Sifo-Diyas’s.”

They stood atop that dune for well into the night.

Some moments, they even enjoyed it.

Chapter Text

3) RED HERRING WITHOUT THRUSTERS

Herring, Red - 1) A species of fish native to Corellia, famous for luring in prey by feigning death. Now extinct. 2) A strategy employed by deep space pirates wherein a derelict vessel (usually Corellian) is left abandoned in a hyper-lane with nothing running but red emergency lights and a distress beacon.

Krennic was willing to admit (in private, of course) that he could at times be a bit headstrong; a bit sycophantic; and yes, occasionally, even a bit arrogant. But, he was also willing to admit when he was in over his head. 

His was a thin tightrope to walk indeed; there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that once the Death Star was completed, it would be delivered straight into the hands of his less than estimable rival, the inestimably arrogant Grand Moff Tarkin. For Tarkin had the Emperor's ear, and Krennic knew he did not. Not really. So, to buy himself more time to demonstrate both his own capabilities and his loyalty to the Emperor, he had deliberately placed in charge of Project Stardust the loudest conscientious objector he could find. Namely, one Doctor Galen Erso.

Had it been a gamble? Yes. Was it one that had paid off? Some days not even Krennic was sure. Some days his entreaties to the Emperor to be kept in command after the Death Star's completion seemed to fall on deaf ears. On others, they were met with barely concealed indifference (or worse). 

But today? Oh yes, today he was absolutely sure. For today, he had been granted access to the Emperor's own personal vaults. To a trove of information that he alone would never be able to process, much less use efficiently. 

He was in over his head, certainly. But the only people that ever got anywhere in life knew the best place to swim was with the sharks. One just had to make sure they brought a big harpoon along. 

And Krennic had some really big harpoons. 

He hadn't been an intelligence man; not to start with, anyway. He'd been Navy, through and through, and he still wore the whites of a Rear Admiral proudly. 

But the Clone Wars had come and gone, and the times of heroic sailors and officers with them. And like his erstwhile C.O. slash mentor, Krennic had thrown himself headlong into the gear work of the new and righteous Order. 

It was to that erstwhile mentor that his comm call now connected.

Click. "Yularen here."

A tiny smile tickled at the corner of Kreenic's mouth, to be wiped away by harsh business. "Colonel. I find myself in need of your assistance."

"For you, old friend? It would be my pleasure. How may I be of assistance?"

"I find myself encroached upon by an absolute mountain of physical data, and as such in need of a mechanical assistant. One of the... discreet ones. The Emperor would not care for these records to fall into any other's hands."

"I understand, Director. Expect to receive your...assistant by no later than 1500 tomorrow."

"I am very grateful, old friend."

"But of course. What else are friends for?"

Click.

Yularen was gone. Krennic humphed dryly to himself; all this time, and the old man still refused to let him have the last word. 

Ah, well. It wasn't as if Yularen hadn't earned the privilege.

So. His plan to get Krennic eviscerated by the upper echelons of the Empire had failed spectacularly.

Yularen thought he'd had rather a capital idea when he'd suggested to his insufferable "protege" that he intentionally find someone incompetent to helm Project Stardust. Hoping against hope that it would make for the final nail in the coffins of both the Death Star that threatened his precious Navy, and the Director that threatened him. 

Yularen knew that Lord Vader was dead. And in private, he'd even shed a tear for the fearsome General he had once come to know and respect. But the time for grief was over. Now was the time for action.

Now that Vader was, regrettably, gone, Yularen could perhaps begin to subtly increase his sabotage of the distasteful Battle Station that hung silently in the skies above Geonosis. Vader had been less than fond of the Death Star, true, but he had also been a zealot through and through. Very intolerant of treason in any form. If he hadn't been, Yularen had no doubt the Death Star would have suffered a great deal more "setbacks" than it already had. 

Yes...yes, perhaps the time was right. Krennic wanted a droid: very well then. He'd get the absolute best damn droid the ISB had on hand. And by the time the droid was done, maybe, just maybe, Krennic would have learned to be careful what you ask for. 

But Yularen rather doubted it. 

Which was why after dispatching his "asset" to Director Krennic's office, he surreptitiously punched a message into his commlink, then sent in scurrying off into the Void. Whether it would find a receptive ear or not, only the Force could say.

From a certain point of view, Ahsoka thought she was handling the past weekend's revelations rather well. 

From another, she was acutely aware that the next time she tried to meditate and release her emotions she'd probably break apart faster than a thatch hut in a storm.

So for the moment, bottling everything up until things exploded it was!

So what if Anakin hadn't died; never mind all that! So what if Anakin had somehow turned to the Dark; never mind all that! So what if Anakin had been turned into more machine than man, slaughtered his way through the rest of the surviving Jedi, imposed a Sith's will on the galaxy, lost all his limbs again, and then left her all alone with absolutely no closure to be found; so what, so what, SO WHAT?!!!!!!

"Hey sister, breathe."

Shuddering gasps of air conflicted with racking sobs. So much for bottling things up.

"Hey, that's right; let it all out. Punch a bulkhead or two; looking at the guns you're packing, the wall will probably come out on the short end."

She flinched when she felt a cold hand come to rest on her shoulder. With a snarl, she tore herself free. "Mind your own kriffing business, Sith scum."

Revan crossed his arms in a huff. "Well excuse me for trying to help. So much for a couple thousand years making the Jedi just a little bit less tetchy."

"I am no Jedi!" She spat.

"Hah!" The ghost snapped his fingers. "Called it. No way the Council of my day would've ever let someone like you make it past Padawan without knocking at least some healthy coping mechanisms into you. Cause I gotta say kid, I may have just met you, like, five minutes ago, but even I can see...you got issues, hon."

"Issues. I'll tell you what my issue is; a kriffing two thousand year old Sith ghost is currently on board my ship, and it won't shut up and leave!"

  That last bit may or may not have been screamed.

For the first time, Revan took a step backwards. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger," he said with his hands uncrossing palms towards her, "you're the one that locked the door. Believe me I'd just as soon it be literally anyone else in here dealing with your panic attack, but since I'm the only one who can actually, you know, come in, I got real undemocratically elected."

Ahsoka let out a snort. "And I'm just supposed to believe Kanan sent you to talk to me, after he made his position on your presence quite clear?"

"Nah, not him," grinned Revan, shoving his hands in his pockets and slouching against the door, "the droid. You locked him out of his cockpit, and I'm pretty sure if you don't let him back in soon an electro-torch is gonna be involved. Ergo, that makes me the diplomatic alternative. So if you could kindly wait to have your breakdown until after we get...wherever the hell we're going, I believe the rest of your passengers would greatly appreciate it."

"...Would they now."

"Your sweet fanny they…"

Whoosh.

THUNK.

"Kriffing oww, woman!" Revan rumbled from where he'd been unceremoniously dropped on the floor. 

Ahsoka shrugged. "I opened the door." Leaning down, she ignited one lightsaber and held it under his chin. "How's that for diplomatic?"

To her shock, the Sith's pupils dilated, and a massive smile spread across his face. "Kriffing fantastic, Lady Tano."

The blood drained from her face. She'd forgotten; forgotten what it was like to be tempted by the Sith. To be driven or persuaded into acting on one's aggressive feelings.

No more.

Wrenching her mind and body once more under her control, she deactivated her blade and stood. "You're a ghost."

"Yep."

"The laws of physics don't apply to you."

"Nope."

"So why did you fall backwards when I opened the door?"

"You got me." The Sith purred. "By all accounts, it doesn't make sense."

And then, Revan laughed.

Not a nice, cheerful laugh; nor even the cruel laughter of mocking derision. Instead, it was the warm, burning laugh that comes blazing up inside you when you've just so thoroughly outmaneuvered your opponent that they're utterly blind to the axe that is about to fall upon them.

The kind of laugh that will follow its target to the end of the earth itself. 

Barely resisting the urge to yank him to his feet and pound his face into the wall, Ahsoka stomped past him with a growl.

Unfortunately, it was a rather small ship.

Which meant that her stomping brought her all too quickly face-to-wall with the back of it.

"Soooo…" Ezra's whisper to Kanan drifted behind her, "we gonna talk about that?"

Ahsoka sighed internally. It was going to be a long kriffing flight.

Before becoming the Second Sister, there had been other names. 

Fourth Sister. 

Twelfth Sister. 

Barriss Offee.

And for each of those names, there had been one person she trusted above all others. 

Seventh Sister.

The Grand Inquisitor. 

Ahsoka Tano. 

Only for each of those she trusted to fall by the wayside, and her old identities with them. Ahsoka was presumed dead in Order 66. The Grand Inquisitor had fallen to the blades of a half-trained Padawan and his student. And now, the Seventh Sister had also perished, on the whispering terror world of Malachor. 

Her only consolation was that from all accounts, Anakin Skywalker had perished with her. 

Oh, she’d known very well just who it was underneath the blank visage of Lord Vader. He had made that perfectly clear to her when he ripped the lower half of her jaw off in punishment for her betrayal of his former Apprentice. If it had not been for the Emperor’s mercy and the Grand Inquisitor’s respect, she would most assuredly have perished that day. Instead, the Grand Inquisitor had nursed her back to health, had her fitted with a prosthetic jaw, and retrained her to fight. 

When he died that day above Mustafar, the Twelfth Sister had cracked the walls of her room in grief and rage. Her promotion to Fourth Sister had come not long after; and along with it, a trainee of her own. 

(Not an apprentice; never that.)

Seventh Sister had been a fellow Mirialan. And given how few Mirialans had been counted among the Jedi Order’s ranks before the Purge, it hadn’t taken long for Seventh Sister to piece together her teacher’s former identity. Much less that Barris had been the one to execute her former Master Luminara Unduli.

The fallout from that revelation had been tremendous. Seventh Sister had brutally attacked during a routine training exercise, and it was only the intervention of other nearby Inquisitors that had allowed Barris to walk away alive. Not that they’d been helping her; the newly minted Eleventh Brother and his instructor Third Brother had scented blood in the water and seen a chance to further their own status by eliminating their superiors. 

Their act of betrayal had forced Seventh Sister to abandon her plan for revenge and focus instead on survival; teaming up with her previous target against a greater threat. 

By the time the fight was over, Third Brother had been sliced into several steaming pieces, Barris was missing an arm on top of her jaw, and the Eleventh Brother had wisely opted to surrender. 

Seventh Sister had become Barris’ closest confidante after that. Even when forced to take on Eleventh Brother as her new student by the Emperor, despite the young Inquisitor’s attempt at backstabbing, Seventh had openly groused only to Barris. 

But now Seventh was dead and her former student had been catapulted into the position he’d once been instructed by: Third Brother. In other words, Barris’ number one competition for the slot of new Grand Inquisitor. 

She would need help to beat him. She hoped to find it in the Outer Rim. 

“ADMIRAL ON DECK!”

Thrawn was here. Honestly, given a choice, she’d prefer he be all the way on the other side of the galaxy. Not so much as a result of her apprehension about the infamous Chiss officer, but more because if Thrawn wasn’t there, then that meant that she could be elsewhere. Preferably hunting down whomever had seen fit to kill yet another of her friends. 

(And also apparently killed Skywalker.)

Instead, that assignment had been given to the Third Brother and the Emperor’s newest pet. Well, newest as in latest. There were others far younger whom the Emperor still held in reserve. Regardless, it left Barris high and dry to stew in her own conflicted feelings. And also to suffer the attentions of perhaps the cleverest man in the Imperial Fleet. 

“Second Sister, I believe.”

She tilted her head in acknowledgement of the voice behind her. “Grand Admiral Thrawn. Have you been briefed as to our destination?”

“Alas, no. Perhaps you would care to shed some light on the subject?”

Not really. But orders were orders. “Nar Shaddaa. The 501st has a tentative connection inside a gladiatorial ring there. We are to infiltrate the ring and relieve its organizer of his vast collection of unauthorized artifacts and treasures, whilst framing the Rebellion for the crime.”

“I see.” The light clink of Thrawn’s standard issue boots came to a stop directly beside her. “And the name of this organizer?”

If the Second Sister had been capable of it, she would have smiled. “Why, Grakkus the Hutt of course.”

Maris had lasted all of about three months before reaching once more for the Dark. 

To be fair, she had been fighting for her life against a slobbering Nexu that made her former pet Rancor look downright cuddly. And while the Dark had given her the strength to emerge victorious, the blind rage had left her open to the Nexu’s ripping jaws. 

Less than a week in Grakkus’ gladiator pits and she’d already lost most of the use of her left leg. And the only way to get bacta was to win more fights. 

So she’d gritted her teeth and gone back in, this time determined not to surrender control. 

Her resolve had lasted all of about seven seconds when her next opponent turned out to be a former Purge Trooper.

They were still cleaning the blood off the windows. Some of it hers. 

The Dark made her strong, true; but it also made her predictable. And predictability could get you killed. She’d needed something better. 

Grakkus had gleefully supplied it. A Holocron from the Old Republic, detailing the ancient art of Emotion Burning. Not Meditation as such, wherein one released their emotions into the Force; instead, one sacrificed their emotions as fuel for their body’s exertions. The technique was obviously meant for no one above Initiate level (or what passed for it among the Sith), and tended to leave her cruel and uncaring both in the arena and out of it, but at least it returned her control to her. She was grateful to Grakkus for the gesture. 

She was still going to kill him for enslaving her though. Now if only she could find the opportunity…

“So…” Maul said, gently replacing his tea upon the table, “who do you intend to train him?” Perhaps Lady Tano?”

Kenobi jerked in surprise, his incredulity ringing through the Force. “Ahsoka’s alive?”

“But of course,” grinned Maul. “In fact she and I crossed paths less than a ten-day ago.”

The gentle current of Kenobi’s presence began to swirl in agitation. “What did you do to her?”

“I? I have done nothing Kenobi. It was the Inquisitorious that sought to end her life; and it was against the Inquisitorious that I lent my aid.”

Kenobi glared at him. “I don’t suppose you could contact her to corroborate that.”

“Given time, I am almost positive I could. However, that is not our concern at the moment. What is our concern is whom you plan to have train young Skywalker. Because if you do not plan to do it, nor Lady Tano, then there are very few Jedi who could conceivably be left to fill the position of Master. Much less those willing to tolerate the boy’s already evident attachment to his family.”

Kenobi pursed his lips at the word ‘attachment’, but chose to remain silent. 

So be it. He would use the process of elimination. “Master Koth perished not long ago…perhaps it was he you intended?”

No response. 

“Or was it Master Shaak Ti? If so, I must disappoint you: Vader’s former Apprentice has already eliminated her as well.”

Confusion flitted across Kenobi’s brow. “Ahsoka? Why would she seek to kill Master Ti?”

Maul shook his head. “Not Lady Tano. Vader’s Sith Apprentice. One who has fortunately gone and gotten himself killed." Maul had investigated the possible source of the other immense presence on Malachor quite thoroughly during his journey to Tatooine. It had been something of an irritation to discover Vader's previous Apprentice - a pet aptly named Starkiller - had perished not long ago, thus reopening the question of just whom exactly the second Sith had been. But irritation aside, the death of Starkiller had certainly inconvenienced the Empire (granted, not as much as his life apparently had, but still). Which meant Maul was more than fine with the outcome. "So," he turned his thoughts once more to the Jedi, "not Koth, and not Ti. Who else…certainly not the Guardians of Jedha…and Master Altis’ heretics have long been burned from the galaxy. And while I have no doubt that Yoda still lives, I do doubt that you would allow him near the boy considering his own former Apprentice fell to the Dark as well…”

A flinch. Finally, a reaction. 

“No…” He couldn’t believe it. “Incredulous. The little troll fails not only his entire lineage, but the Jedi Order as a whole, and now you plan to have him train the CHOSEN ONE?”

Kenobi’s eyes fell to the floor. Presumably in shame. 

“Ludicrous. Just when I think you can sink no lower.” Maul slammed his fist into the table, knocking the tea onto the sand below. “I will not allow it.”

Kenobi’s eyes flashed upwards. “You? Who are you to decide, Darth Maul?”

“Someone who has just as much stake in Sidious’ defeat as you, Jedi.” he sneered. 

With a heave, Maul drew himself up to his full height. “And there are others within this wretched galaxy that can say the same. There is a clan of witches still upon Dathomir who mourn the loss of their cousins. Lady Tano seeks to build a rebellion from the ashes of the Republic. The former Apprentice of Depa Billaba fights to free the planet of Lothal. You are not the only voice in this matter, Kenobi. And if needs must, I will bring the rest of them here.”

Kenobi went white as a sheet. “NO! The boy must be kept secret at all costs! He is not ready for the weight of the galaxy’s expectations!”

“I have news for you Kenobi: he never will be.”

Kenobi recoiled as if he’d been slapped. 

“The boy must be taught to rise above others’ expectations; else they will bury him under them. Just as you Jedi did to Skywalker. So tell me, Kenobi…whom will you have train the boy?”

Silence from the aging Master. It was only when Maul turned to go that Kenobi finally broke it. “Quinlan Vos still lives. Or at least he did a year ago. If you must seek out another, seek out him.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “Where shall I find him?”

“I do not know. But you should begin your search on Jabiim. Ask to be shown the Path, and when questioned, reveal your lightsaber hilt. They will point you in the right direction.”

“And should I find Vos, how will I convince him to trust me?”

“That, I am afraid, I cannot tell you. You will have to convince him all on your own.”

“How marvelous,” he replied dryly. “Very well. I shall return soon.”

“Then may the Force be with you.”

Maul snorted. “The Force is always with me, Kenobi. It is I who will need to be with the Force.”

And also with one Quinlan Vos.