Star Wars: The Old Republic: Revan (33 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He held up the disks.

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

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

“Are you certain of these accusations?”

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

“You already have.”

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

“Does Nyriss know you are here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ridiculous!” Scourge spat. “I would never be so insulting as to bring one of my personal slaves into a meeting with someone of Nyriss’s rank.”

“Then you’d better think of something fast,” Meetra said. “Because if this all goes sour, I’m going to whip out my lightsaber and start chopping off heads.”

“I could bring you if I was presenting you to Nyriss as a gift,” Scourge said. “But then there would be no reason for me to keep you close by.”

“Forget it,” Meetra snarled.

T3 echoed her sentiment with a shrill squawk.

“Then what do you suggest?” Scourge demanded.

“Take me to Revan now,” Meetra said. “I’ll take my chances on fighting our way out.”

“I didn’t bring you here so you could throw your life away. And I have no intention of becoming a martyr.”

Meetra was about to fire back another angry retort when the stronghold was rocked to its foundations by a very loud explosion coming from somewhere off to the east.

“The Imperial Guard,” Scourge gasped. “They’re here!”

Alarms began to ring through the corridor, mingling with the sounds of shouts and running feet as Nyriss’s people responded to the sudden attack.

Meetra reached up and yanked the slave collar from her neck, hurling it across the floor. T3 mimicked her by popping off his restraining bolt.

“The dungeon is this way,” Scourge said, quickly putting their now-pointless argument behind them. “Follow me.”

The explosions continued as he led them through the twisting passages. They were coming from all sides; obviously the Imperial Guard had the entire stronghold surrounded. Based on the frequency and size of the distant explosions, Meetra guessed they were using an artillery assault to try to breach the walls at multiple locations. Males and females ran past them in both directions, some rushing to join the fray and others scrambling to safety. The unexpected attack had caught Nyriss’s people completely off guard. They were in disarray, their efforts to defend the stronghold uncoordinated and disorganized.

“I would have expected someone on the Dark Council to put up better resistance,” Meetra said as they turned a corner and raced down another hall.

“The security chief and three of his top lieutenants aren’t here to rally them, thanks to you,” he reminded her.

They rounded another corner and confronted the first real sign of any kind of counterattack. Eight soldiers led by a lightsaber-wielding Sith acolyte had taken up positions in the corridor roughly ten meters away from a large, smoking hole in the wall.

As the smoke cleared, dozens of red-uniformed soldiers poured through the breach, armed with blaster pistols and electrostaffs.

Nyriss’s people opened fire, mowing down the first wave. Those in the ranks behind never even slowed. Driven forward by their furious devotion to the Emperor, they charged the enemy line with a reckless disregard for their own safety.

Had the defenders held their ground and continued to fire, they might have survived several more waves. But their morale was shaken by the berserker mentality of their attackers, so instead they broke ranks and tried to flee. None of them succeeded.

Three were taken down by blasterfire, shot in the back as they turned to run. The other five, including the acolyte with the lightsaber, were swallowed up by a sea of red-uniformed guards and smashed down with electrostaffs.

The entire incident took less than ten seconds; plenty of time for Scourge to lead Meetra and T3 in another direction. But instead of trying to avoid the melee, the Sith had simply held his ground and watched.

As the last defender fell, the invaders broke into two teams and set off in opposite directions down the hall. The chance to hide until they passed was lost; as the red-robed butchers approached, Meetra started to reach for the lightsaber hidden inside her black, knee-high leather boot.

Scourge grabbed her wrist and shook his head. He stepped back against the wall, dragging her with him. Recognizing Scourge as a friendly target, the Imperial Guards ran past without even a second glance.

“The dungeons are close,” Scourge told her once they were alone again.

They were fortunate enough not to encounter any more battles for the rest of the journey, though they came across the aftermath of several violent skirmishes. Some of the bodies wore the red uniforms of the invaders, but for every one of them there were at least five of Nyriss’s people.