A/N: This chapter was largely a joy to write. Yskalan is an immensely fun character. I look forward to developing him further, because-unlike a lot of the others-his unique traits aren't easy to observe in introspection, so a lot of his development is deferred until he actually starts acting in the later parts of the fic.

Chapter Five

The Sith Inquisitor

"Everyone has weaknesses… but especially Jedi."

"Councilors, please," Yskalan drawled, lounging comfortably in the large, red-and-black chair. "Surely we needn't start feuds over such a trivial matter as this?"

"Darth Imperius is quite right," Vowrawn agreed from his seat nearby, talking over the arguing Darths Ravage and Mortis.

The hall of the Dark Council was the quintessential Sith structure—massive and imposing, with a high ceiling that stretched so far that the top of the spire was barely visible from the inside. The twelve seats which ran along two sides of the room sat before twelve imposing statues of robed and hooded Sith from ages past. The floor was stone, but the walls were the same dark metal that dominated modern Imperial construction. Along one wall were draped two great red banners emblazoned with the hexagonal sigil of the Empire and the angular mark of the Dark Council.

There were six of them present today: Yskalan himself, Darth Marr, Darth Zhorrid, Darth Mortis, Darth Ravage, and Darth Vowrawn. None of the others had appeared by holo. At the moment, Yskalan was rather expertly—if he did say so himself—preventing them from destroying the Empire completely.

"Trivial matter?" scoffed Ravage. "We're only discussing the future of Alderaan, one of the only core worlds we still have a presence in since we lost Corellia."

Yskalan snorted. "You really need to get a grip, Ravage," he said dryly. "What good is a stepping-stone on Alderaan while the Republic maintains neutrality on Voss and a presence on Quesh, both within a day's Hyperspace trip of this very room?"

"It's our most effective route into the core!" Ravage argued. "It's the only staging area we have between the Seat of the Empire and Coruscant!"

"And should we attempt to use it," Darth Marr said darkly, "we would find Republic soldiers on Korriban before our fleets made half the distance. We are not in a position to fortify outer domains, Ravage. We must look inward."

"Precisely," Yskalan agreed, his voice dripping with honey. "Thank you, Marr."

Marr didn't look at him. Yskalan had a strong feeling the armored Darth didn't like him very much. Which wasn't a surprise, Dark Council persona was not meant to be likeable.

"On the topic of looking inward," Mortis said, "what of the Emperor's Wrath?"

"Imperius' Wrath, do you mean?" said Darth Acina pointedly.

Yskalan laughed. "Do you honestly think I could control Darth Pyrus in any way should we disagree?" he asked. "It is my good fortune that our interests often align. Nothing more."

"Regardless," Marr said, cutting them off, "Darth Pyrus' actions, I agree, are worth discussing. Mortis, what has he done?"

"Nothing," Mortis said evenly. "Therein lies the problem. Since Corellia and his defeat of Darth Baras he has nearly ceased to be a factor in the war effort. What he has been doing, I do not know."

"There's certainly an argument to be made," Yskalan said dryly, "that what the Emperor's Wrath does is not our concern."

"And would you care to make that argument?" Darth Marr asked coldly.

"Not at all," replied Yskalan with a chuckle. "I consider myself to be quite the shameless heretic. I merely thought it worth mentioning."

There was a moment of silence in the chamber.

"Although," Yskalan mused, "I suppose heresy is something of a requirement to sit on this council, isn't it? One doesn't become truly powerful by toeing the line."

"Have you anything to contribute?" asked Zhorrid coldly. "Or are you just going to offer your comedic interruptions?"

Yskalan smiled at her. "I always contribute, my dear Zhorrid," he said lightly. "But I do not take any issue with Pyrus' recent behavior. If anyone does, by all means, lead us on in this second-guessing of the Emperor's personal agent!"

Marr was looking at him, his mask hiding any expression, but Yskalan could feel his seething in the force.

"I consider Pyrus to be a model Sith," the armored Darth said slowly. "He cares for the Empire in a way I think many on this council could stand to learn from. However, I cannot say his recent inaction does not disturb me—not because I think him disloyal, but because, if he has greater threats to the Empire to fight, it disturbs me that we are not privy to them. Either he does not trust us, or the Emperor does not."

"Would you trust us, Darth Marr?" Yskalan asked with a chuckle. "I know I wouldn't."

"How'd it go?"

Yskalan sighed and pulled his hood back off his head, leaning back and resting against the bulkhead. "Well enough," he told the togruta tiredly, his red eyes seeking her blue. "It's exhausting, of course, but not overly painful."

"I don't know how you do it," she told him sympathetically, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. "I really don't. How you can sit among them and lie without blinking."

"It's not all lies," he said frankly. "Just a filter. What I say is true; how I say it is my weapon." He rolled his head around on his neck, the vertebrae cracking sharply. "My, but I'll be glad to be off Korriban. This world always reminds me of slavery."

Ashara pulled him close. "This is where you were freed," she said gently. "That's what you told me."

Yskalan shook his head. "This is where I traded bonds," he said. "Although I didn't see that until much later."

Being Sith is about being free, he mused idly. How long I believed that without ever actually taking that freedom seriously.

"I suppose I didn't really become free until…" he considered. "It must have been… Quesh, I suppose. The second time there."

Ashara stiffened slightly against him.

"Yes," he said gently. "Cipher Nine, and Pyrus. You hadn't known them for long, I know."

"it was horrible," she mumbled. "What they did to her. I think that's when I realized… the Republic really isn't any better than the Empire, in the end."

Yskalan sighed. "I don't know," he said. "There are more layers of the bureaucracy dedicated to protecting the innocent in the Republic, no one can deny that… but yes, the upper echelons are every bit as broken as the Dark Council. The difference is that the Jedi aren't directly part of that, the way the Sith are."

The holocomm rang, out in the lounge.

Yskalan sighed. "Back on with the mask," he mumbled. "I'll be back later, Ashara."

She kissed him. "I'll hold you to that."

He left the engine room and made for the communicator terminal.

"Imperius." The voice, faintly aristocratic, was nonetheless warm and welcome.

Yskalan allowed a genuine smile to break across his face. "Pyrus," he said. "I thought you were another damned Councilor."

Darth Pyrus chuckled. "Not this time, old friend," he said lightly. "Just me, checking in. I thought I ought to keep you posted."

Yskalan nodded. "Have you found an operation for us?" he asked.

Pyrus shook his head. "Not us," he said. "Just me. Cipher Nine has arranged a meeting with Ardun Kothe on Quesh."

Yskalan twitched. "Pyrus," he said. "I sincerely hope you're not planning on meeting him alone."

"I'm bringing the team," the other Sith reassured him. "This is by far my best chance to finally get a foothold with the Jedi Order proper. If I can bring Ardun Kothe, a Fallen Jedi not aligned with the Sith, to return to the fold at my advice… well. The symbolism will be powerful."

Yskalan rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Ardun Kothe," he said flatly, "is an amoral, spineless son of a Hutt who will never trust anyone he hasn't got leverage over. You really think this isn't a trap?"

"Oh, it probably is," Pyrus acknowledged. "I just doubt he has the capability to win if he forces an engagement."

Yskalan put his head in his hands. "At least let us come as backup," he said. "I can have the Black Storm in the Quesh system in a few days."

"Sorry, old friend," Pyrus said gently. "The meeting's in two. There's no way you can get from Korriban here in that time. Besides, you can't afford to leave the Council to their own devices for that long. Who knows what Zhorrid, Ravage, and Mortis could do without you to play them against each other?"

"It would only be for a week or two," Yskalan protested. "Please, Pyrus—Mysvaleer. Get Cipher Nine to reschedule the meeting so I can be there."

The Kaas-born noble shook his head. "No, Yskalan," he said. "that would drive them away, for certain. You must trust me, this time."

Yskalan sighed. "The last time you went to Quesh alone," he said quietly, "you ended up half dead under a rockslide. Only Cipher Nine's intervention—and the fact that Karrys and I were both near—saved you then. Please be careful."

"I will," Mysvaleer swore firmly. "You have my word, old friend."

Yskalan closed his eyes. "Very well," he said. "That's the best I'll be getting. I wish you the best of luck."

Mysvaleer smiled. "As some Jedi I know might say," he said, "I have no need of luck. The Force is with me."

The channel closed, and Yskalan stood staring at the empty space where his friend had been for time. Then he turned and made for the bridge.

"Andronikos," he said as he entered, "I need a favor."

"You got it," the former pirate said, glancing back at him from where he'd been watching the passing ships through the front viewport. "What do you need?"

"Recently the planet of Dubrillion has been coming back under the control of its former royal lineage," Yskalan said. "The line of Drayen."

Andronikos frowned. "As in, Nok Drayen?" he asked. "They said the old bastard claimed to be royalty, but…"

"It's quite true," Yskalan said flatly. "And his daughter, one Risha Dr—well," he chuckled. "Risha, in any case… she has recently reclaimed the throne. There is, however, still some infighting. Do you have any contacts in that sector who might know anything about affairs there?"

Andronikos nodded slowly. "I probably have one or two," he said. "Why?"

"I need to know where her husband is," Yskalan said. "One Captain Hethus. Republic-aligned smuggler and gunrunner who has gradually amassed a fortune to rival his wife's."

Andronikos stared at him. "This is a weird one," he said.

"It's weirder than you know," Yskalan said shortly. "Take my word for it. Can you send out feelers?"

"Sure," Andronikos shrugged. "I'll do what I can."

Yskalan nodded. "Thank you, Andronikos," he said putting a hand on the seated man's shoulder. "I know I owe you an explanation. I will provide it as soon as the affair is settled."

Andronikos shrugged. "Don't worry about me," he said. "I've got your back."

"I know, my friend," said Yskalan, a faint smile crossing his red-skinned face. "I know."

"Lord."

Yskalan turned to face his apprentice. "Xalek. What is it?"

The Kaleesh watched him impassively through his reptilian eyes. "I wish to become Sith, Lord."

Yskalan considered this. "And you don't want to kill me to do it?" he asked. "The traditional approach is to kill one's master to receive their position."

"I cannot defeat you," Xalek said simply. "You are as a god who has not died—will not die. You are greater than I can hope to be for many years, and yet there are Lords of the Sith and even Darths who are much weaker than I."

"Does this seem unfair to you, Xalek?" Yskalan asked evenly.

Xalek's eyes twitched ever so slightly. "Fairness," he said, "is not the way of the Sith."

"Correct," Yskalan agreed. "That being said, strength and power are. You have both, and have demonstrated them to my satisfaction."

Xalek's eyes, already laser-focused, seemed almost to gain intensity. "Then, Lord…"

"Yes," Yskalan confirmed. "I will see to your induction as a Dark Lord of the Sith. It shall not be immediate, and it is traditional for such an induction to occur in the wake of a great task an apprentice performs in his master's name. I will seek out such a task for you. When it is completed, you will be named Lord Xalek."

Xalek watched him for a moment. "And then, to become a Darth?" he asked.

Yskalan grinned. "One step at a time, my eager Apprentice," he said with a chuckle. "Only the very greatest of Sith are given the title of Darth. A Darth owes allegiance to no one, but is a ruler of a nation in his own right. Each Darth is a warlord unto himself. You have power, Xalek, but you have no power base. Not yet. It will come, once you are a Lord and able to take Apprentices yourself."

Xalek nodded. "Thank you, Lord. I will follow you."

Yskalan considered him. "A Lord is expected to maintain allegiance to his Darth sponsor," he said slowly. "Many, however, do not. I, for instance, became the mortal enemy of my sponsor within days of receiving the title. I will not hold it against you if you choose to cut ties and pursue your destiny without me, once the title is conferred on you."

Xalek shook his head. "You have paved the way to godhood," he said. "I will learn. There is no shame."

The corners of Yskalan's mouth twitched upward. "You make a good Sith," he said. "Too few understand this. I will be happy to assist you in your journey to ever-greater power."

Xalek bowed low. "And I will fight your battles beside you, Lord," he said.

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Peace is a—"

"Ashara."

The togruta woman's eyes snapped open with a start. "Yskalan?" she mumbled. "I was—oh, Force…"

He held her as she shuddered, his skin meeting hers under the bedclothes. There was nothing erotic about this contact, however—only a shared warmth and certainty.

"I'm okay," she murmured eventually. "I'm okay."

He released her slowly, falling back to his side of the bed, before propping himself up on one arm to look over at her. "You haven't had such a dream for some time," he said quietly.

"No," she agreed, looking up at the ceiling, her eyes not even flickering towards him. "No, I haven't. I guess it was past due."

"I'm sorry."

There was silence. Then she sighed.

"I am, too," she murmured. "Sorry that I can't just… forgive you."

"I've scarred you terribly," Yskalan said. "I understand."

She shook her head, screwing her eyes shut. "But you've also shown me the galaxy in ways the Jedi never would have," she said. "I'd never have learned most of what you've taught me if we hadn't met on Taris. I'm grateful for that, Yskalan, you have to believe me."

"I do."

Her hand—the one on her other side—slapped the bed hard. "Then why can't I get over this?" she asked furiously. "Why can't I just… I don't know, deal with it?"

"Don't you dare blame yourself," Yskalan said evenly. "It's no one's fault but mine."

She tried to sigh, but halfway through it became a faint sob. "I love you," she whispered. "You know that, don't you?"

"I do," he assured her. "And I you, Ashara."

She turned to him. "What do I do?" she asked weakly. "I can't go on like this—scared to go to sleep because I might wake up a monster. What do I do?"

He considered her, his eyes tracing the curve of her facial markings over her orange skin. "Darth Pyrus might be able to help," he said. "He has studied the Code in more depth than I, and Angral's whole form was based on it. He might be able to teach you an interpretation that would allow you to circumvent the holocron's influence."

"He kept Jaesa anchored even when her own Master turned," Ashara agreed. "Yes. He might be able to help."

Yskalan sighed. "Well, we'll have to get in touch with him as soon as he returns from Quesh." If he returns from Quesh.

Ashara nodded. "Thank you, Yskalan," she said, laying back with a sigh and closing her eyes. "Thank you."

He watched her for a time: watched her until her breathing steadied and her heartrate slowed, watched until, through the Force, he felt her mind wandering in dreams.

Then he turned away, swung his legs silently over the side of the bed, and stood up. He walked soundlessly over to the dresser, slipped into his robes with barely a rustle, and left the room.

Soon he was in the cockpit, in the pilot's seat, staring out at the black. The stars twinkled impersonally from beyond the void, and far below the dark brown of Korriban's night blotted out half of the night like a dirty rag across his viewport.

He closed his eyes, and reached out to the Force.

I have struck the delicate balance of Light and Dark more than any before me, Pyrus had said to the rest of them once, on Corellia. Even Revan himself did not so neatly walk the line as I do now.

But you, Yskalan, he'd later said, privately, you have a strength in the Force like no one I've ever seen. You shine like a sun in the eyes. What must it be like, to be so intimate with the Force that you hear it as clearly as my voice right now?

It was, for one thing, never lonely.

"Peace is a lie," he said, enunciating the words clearly. "There is only passion. Through passion I gain strength. Through strength I gain power. Through power I gain victory. Through victory my chains are broken." He swallowed. "The Force shall free me."

It had.

The Dark Side swirled around him like an embrace, lapping up his passionate gratitude.

"My bond to Ashara," he said aloud. "It is a chain, yet it is passionate. It gives my strength to lash out at those that would harm her. But it binds me to her. How can this be reconciled?"

The Force murmured in his ear. He listened.

"Yes," he agreed. "I am at peace, when I am with Ashara. Is that the solution to the conundrum, then? The rejection of peace, in all its forms, brings about a totality of freedom?"

He considered this for a time, his eyes darting from one twinkling star to another.

"The Jedi reject attachment," he said, "even as the Sith reject chains. That is identical, not antithetical; this is in spite of the fact that the Sith Code was written as a rejection of the Jedi teachings. It is meant to be antithetical. How can this be resolved?"

The Light Side crept around him like a skittish cat. He beckoned it closer. It spoke to him, softly, gently, but firmly.

"The Jedi Code," he said, cocking an eyebrow. "Hm. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force."

The Light Side shimmered around him like a coat of many colors, holding him warmly as he spoke.

"Harmony," he mused. "As juxtaposed with chaos? I suppose I can see the contrast."

The Force crooned faintly in a musical chime.

"Yes," Yskalan agreed. "Harmony. Many notes, but blended smoothly in a manner pleasing to the ear—and simple to listen to. Discord—or chaos, if you prefer—is the opposite. Notes which do not blend. But neither of these is solitude."

The Light and the Dark meshed together for a moment… before breaking apart. Yskalan sighed.

"I am not Pyrus," he said quietly. "I haven't the capacity to house you both at once. Not yet. But I will try."

In turn, they whispered in his ears.

"Solitude is the way of the Sith," Yskalan mused, "but it is not a demand of the Dark Side. The Jedi say that love is possible without attachment. If they are right, then hate must be too, and so the lonely Sith is capable of drawing from the breadth of emotion."

The Dark murmured something.

"But are they right?" Yskalan asked. "Can one love—truly love—and not grow attached? Could I feel for Ashara as I do—no." He shook his head. "That is a fallacy. What I feel is love and attachment. If I felt only love, it would feel different. I cannot use that argument. But does that mean that attachment is a passion, in and of itself?"

He considered this again.

"No," he decided. "No, I feel at attachment to Zash, and I felt an attachment to Thanaton, even long after I had ceased to hate or even resent either of them. I cannot draw strength from these attachments. Therefore, they are not passions. But it is something within my breadth of feeling."

The Light spoke a caution.

"You are right," he acknowledged. "I am wandering. Solitude is the arena of the Sith—the Jedi, rather, are meant to be united. They are meant to be plural. The fear of attachment, then—where did they get that?"

Bastila Shan. The Force spoke in union with itself.

"She was not the first," Yskalan said slowly, "but she is, perhaps the best example. Yes, they fear attachment—fear what it can do to them. Bastila Shan became a great Jedi, but only by pushing through her attachment to Revan, who walked the line. She was a threat to their order for a long while."

The Light Side spoke again.

"But in the code, there is no grounds," Yskalan agreed slowly. "Yes. The only line from which it might derive—'There is no passion, there is serenity'—is not applicable. Attachment is not a passion." He frowned. "And yet, love is, yet the Jedi profess to be capable of love and to reject only attachments. How is this resolved?"

The Light Side spoke. Yskalan blinked.

"I—" he stopped. "I cannot understand you," he said wonderingly.

The Light Side was silent.

"I am a Dark Lord of the Sith," said Yskalan quietly, "and I have studied you insufficiently. There are things I cannot learn from you yet. How…?"

The Dark Side crept back in.

He shook his head. "I want to learn," he said quietly. "I want to learn as Pyrus does, through your voices." He chuckled. "I suppose I'll be joining Ashara for her lessons."

The Light Side flitted about his cocoon of Darkness.

"Well, enough philosophizing," Yskalan said, and let go.

His mind expanded, encompassing all of the Korriban system in a moment, and then reaching further. He felt each member of the Dark Council shudder as he washed over them and, were he still a conscious mind, in the traditional sense, it would have given him a sadistic pleasure to know that he could drive such discomfort into his rivals.

He soon reached Dromund Kaas and hovered there for a time, watching the Dark Temple's roiling shadows overtake its thralls.

He moved on. Vaiken Spacedock was light a beacon—a hub of so much Light and Darkness that he could barely see.

He turned his attention Coreward and looked toward the Republic. He passed over the crumbling ruins of occupied Taris with barely a glance. He passed Ord Mantell, and there stopped for a time, considering the battleground. The Empire had given little support to the rebellion there since the war had broken out, but if he could get their borders secured he might well use Ord Mantell as a Core-planet staging ground.

He passed Alderaan quickly—the Empire had mostly lost control of the ancient world by now, and it was swarming with Jedi—and sought Coruscant.

He found it. The city-planet; the oldest city in the Galaxy. Some said it was the homeworld of humanity. Others said that the city predated any of the modern galactic species. What was known was that the bottom third of the atmosphere was absolutely uninhabitable due to long pollution. Whatever was left of the city down there had long been empty of any modern civilization.

A presence touched his own. A Jedi, from…

No, it blocked him. It rejected his attempt to trace its origin. Had he a mouth, he would have smiled. This was shaping up to be interesting.

They danced, he and the presence, feeling one another's Force signatures in the skies of Coruscant. His Darkness, speckled through with motes of Light, swirled about her—for she was a woman—Light, which was touched by the Dark. They were mirrors of one another, he and she, and they were evenly matched, although they were not fighting.

No, this was not combat. Combat would have been useless at this distance. Neither of them had any response, even should they gain an advantage. They could not even communicate through words, only through the barest and most universal of ideas.

She conveyed curiosity. He responded in kind.

They took one another through another few steps of the dance. He had no idea who was leading, but he took comfort in the knowledge that she hadn't any either.

He conveyed appreciation. She responded in kind.

They spiraled together, upward through the atmosphere, past the moons, and deep into the heart of the sun.

She pulsed an emotion—a smile. He smiled back.

Together, they danced the night away, the Light and the Dark.

"You in there, Sith?"

Yskalan opened his eyes. "Andronikos," he said, blinking. "Yes. I am here."

"Good," Andronikos said, watching him with some concern. "You looked… well. Like a vegetable, I guess. Like you weren't home."

"Well, in fairness," Yskalan said with a chuckle, "I wasn't. But I am now." He stood, stretched, and then frowned. "Do you know, Andronikos," he said slowly, "I believe I just spent all night dancing with a Jedi Master."

"I know a thing or two about weird dreams," Andronikos said.

Yskalan shrugged. "A near enough approximation," he acknowledged, "for a non-Sith. Not quite a dream, but something like it, I suppose."

"Right," Andronikos snorted. "You and your Force. You sure you're all right?"

Yskalan grinned. "Quite sure, my friend."

Andronikos sat beside him in the copilot's seat. "I heard back from my contact," he said. "This Hethus has been around the block a few times. I kind of already knew he existed, although I didn't know his name offhand—he's basically ruler of the Galactic underworld now."

Yskalan nodded. "I had heard as much," he said. "Have you any information regarding where he can be found?"

Andronikos grinned. "One of my old contacts did," he said. "He's got control of an old Hutt battlecruiser-turned mobile station called Port Nowhere. He runs everything out of it."

Yskalan closed his eyes. "Port Nowhere," he murmured. "A fitting name. It will be difficult to track down."

Andronikos raised his eyebrows. "You want to go against the greatest crime lord in the galaxy?" he asked. "This guy rules Hutts in their own game, boss."

"Yes," Yskalan agreed, "but I alone know some of his weaknesses. I have leverage."

There was a pause. Yskalan felt Andronikos' curiosity.

"Care to share?" the former pirate asked.

Yskalan looked over at him sidelong. "I wonder if you've ever been told of Pyrus' history," he said slowly. "His birth and childhood."

Andronikos shrugged. "I know he's a Kaas noble, but that's about it."

"He was the eldest of three siblings," Yskalan said. "The younger two defected to the Republic when he was very young."

Andronikos stiffened. "And Hethus is…"

"Ond of them, yes," Yskalan said. "You must tell no one of this, Andronikos."

Yskalan's pilot swallowed. "Yeah, I can see why," he said roughly. "Pyrus doesn't know?"

"Pyrus cannot be allowed to know yet," Yskalan said darkly. "The knowledge would only weaken his resolve—especially if he knew where the third sibling, his younger sister, had gone."

Revel twitched. "Do I want to know?" he asked.

"She is a member of the Jedi Council," Yskalan said quietly. "I shan't tell you which."

"Great," Revel said, falling back against his seat. "That's just great. If Pyrus ever finds out…"

"If Pyrus finds out," Yskalan said, "then any attempted strikes against the Jedi will be crippled. No matter how strong he is, it will be difficult for him to harm her. She, however, will have no such compunctions, for she is quite unaware of her own origins."

"What if we told her?" Andronikos asked. "Maybe Pyrus could turn her?"

Yskalan shook his head. "He may one day forgive the betrayal of keeping this from him," he said. "He would never forgive an attempt to manipulate her. No, that avenue is closed to us for as long as Pyrus remains a good man, and that seems unlikely to change."

The former pirate sighed. "Fantastic," he muttered. "You two are really weird Sith, you know that?"

"I do," Yskalan assured his friend. "I do indeed."

The holocomm rang in the other room. Yskalan twitched. "I'm late to the Council meeting, aren't I?" he asked.

Andronikos grimaced. "Oh, yeah. Probably."

Yskalan sighed. "I'll have to holocall in," he sighed. "Keep the others out of the terminal room, won't you?"

Andronikos nodded and stood up. "Best of luck, boss," he said.

Yskalan followed him upright. "Thank you, Captain," he said.

He followed the Captain out and as the captain turned right to use the ship's intercom to tell the rest of the crew not to disturb the Darth in his meeting, Imperius approached the holoterminal in the center of the room.

He took a moment to himself, closing his eyes and allowing the Dark to suffuse his being, bolstering him.

"On once more with the mask," he murmured.

Then he turned on the terminal, and was met with a view of the Dark Council chamber. He allowed the Force to shape his perception until he was looking out through his seater hologram in the chamber.

"Apologies for my tardiness," he said with a smirk, looking about the room. "I was meditating on the Dark Side."

"Of course you were," snorted Zhorrid. "Not scheming to steal more power at all, I'm sure."

Yskalan chuckled. "You know me so well, my dear," he said.

A/N: Next chapter, we meet Master Vanna of the Jedi Council, the best worst Jedi in the Galaxy. I can't wait.