A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

There were two nations at war. One, a republic built on freedom and equality, its only weakness the division those qualities allowed. The other, a tyrannical empire led by a council of power-mad demigods.

On a planet in the black heart of this Empire was a dark city, and in that city was a building that radiated evil.

Within that building, the center of power. The seat of the Dark Council.

In the room of the Dark Council, under a grand vaulted sealing and surrounded by a dozen forbidding thrones, a single woman stood against the Dark Council.

She did not, as any good soul should, stand in defiance of them. Instead, she wreathed herself in power and fought to join them. Fought, because there was only one way to join the Dark Council.

The Dark Council did not grow, nor shrink. Twelve spheres of influence controlled the whole of the Empire, and twelve Dark Lords of the Sith led those spheres. To join the Council, one did not add to the their numbers.

To join the Council, the aspirant would have to replace one of its demigods.

Lord Kallig stood before Darth Thanaton of the Dark Council and was unable to hide a sneer. This was the master of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge? This was the man who'd dogged her heels on her ascent to power? Who'd come within a miracle of killing her on at least two occasions?

This was a man who helped preserve a galaxy of injustice, hatred, and slavery.

And he sniveled.

Not aloud, of course. No leader of sentients, no rival to his fellow Dark Council members, would ever be so disgraceful. But in his mind, Darth Thanaton cried out in frustration and horror as his attacks were swept aside or ignored entirely, as his defenses proved inadequate and crumbled. He raged at the Council for refusing to help him. He scorned his own soldiers, who'd been unable to stop Kallig's victory in the Kaggath challenge. He all but wept at the desecration of those traditions that would have kept an alien like her from ever laying covetous eyes upon the seat of a Council member.

In his mind, Darth Thanaton blamed everyone but himself for his failure. Kallig saw it, had seen it from the moment she entered the room.

It was, after all, her specialty. Her will reached out and wormed its way into the minds of others, doing what came naturally – asking questions, forcing answers, bending the logic and emotions of those she met, even for a brief time.

Thanaton had no idea how close he was, at any given moment, from victory. How a single unanticipated strike would take Kallig's life, or a ritual allowed the proper concentration would wipe her from the face of the galaxy. He only knew that his strikes were turned aside, his powers responded poorly, his every machination seemed to go awry at just the right moment for Kallig to take advantage. That was good, because Kallig was using every trick and all her concentration to stay alive.

Well, every trick but one.

Time for the finale. The show was what would convince the Council to accept her, not something as worthless as a fight to the death. Thanaton's lightning cracked through the air, blindingly bright and yet oppressive in nature. Every arc scorched the ground around Kallig or was absorbed into her static barriers, and Thanaton grit his teeth to keep from roaring in frustration.

Then Kallig pulled her mind out of Thanaton's and felt instantly the cleaner for it. The lightning hit, and the only thing that kept Kallig from screaming was her muscles spasming as the electricity shot through them. A copper taste told the twi'lek that she'd bitten off the tip of her own tongue. She didn't feel the pain over the agony of the Force power washing over her and through her body.

It didn't matter. Having freed Thanaton she, in turn, was free of him. Her mind instantly went to the only allies she would allow in this fight.

Darth Andru.

I am here, little snake.

Lord Ergast.

As you will.

Kalatosh.

Yes, yes.

Horak Mul.

Heh. About time.

Power welled up in her, and the lightning became a distant thing from the uncleanliness of her own body. The filth of the four monsters she'd allowed to make their homes within her. The four spirits took form, flickering at her sides, then exploded into pure energy that she took into herself in its purest form.

And then the time for subtlety was over. She raised her hand, and the lightning cut off as Darth Thanaton slammed backwards into the wall of the room. He stood and charged, swinging his lightsaber with all his strength. With a single raised finger, she stopped it dead in its path.

How disappointing, Ergast commented. Then he, and in turn she, and in turn they all, reached out and took hold of Thanaton's body with the Force. Slowly, deliberately, they pressed him into the ground. After seconds of agony for the Darth, he knelt on hands and knees before her. For a moment, Kallig rejoiced, exulting in her mastery over the Sith, smiling at the idea of him serving her, enslaved by-

She stopped herself, did her very best to purge the darkness from her mind while still holding on to the ghosts' power. She stepped back. Thanaton's eyes glowed as he gathered power for some new attack she wouldn't be able to sense while staying outside of his mind.

So she didn't. She took hold of the power of Andru, Ergast, Zavros, and Mul, and she guided it in a way that, of them, only she understood. She broke through the Sith's defenses like lightning through air, and then she broke him.

He tried to hold on. Some part of him managed to turn his body and crawl away. It picked up the nearly-empty husk and dragged it towards the rest of the Council, grunting and gasping in pain and confusion.

Whatever the Dark Council saw or felt in the Force as Thanaton arrived at their feet, it was Darth Mortis of the Sphere of Laws and Justice who acted. He looked down on his colleague with regret, or sympathy, or maybe just pity, and whispered a quiet apology. Then he reached down and broke the dead man's neck.

The Dark Council spoke amongst itself for a moment, precious seconds that Kallig took to collect herself.

Go, she commanded the ghosts. And they left, subsiding into that realm just to the back of her mind, where they could do no harm unless she willed it.

She stood, straight, tall, and defiant, before the rest of the Dark Council. Her body was in agony. She'd had to swallow the tip of her tongue to keep from choking on it. Her power and mind were utterly exhausted. But she was victorious and the Council would know it. It was time for their decision. If it was their will, if they decided an alien, or a Lord, or a woman, or whatever they saw her as, was unworthy to take her death-right, then this would be the end. Not she, nor her loyal monster at the door, or her apprentices waiting on the floor below, or even the crazy pirate who followed her, would stand against the Dark Council for long.

That was for lat-

Kallig schooled her thoughts. She truly was exhausted. Normally, it was as easy to breath as it was to carry on the li-

The Dark Council began in the year 1237 BSC but didn't gain its eleventh seat until 1201, and it took until 1138 BSC before the Sphere of Sith Philosphy came to be…

Better.

Darth Mortis approached Lord Kallig, and her lekku twitched in a way she couldn't control, but knew he couldn't read.

Darth Mortis nodded his head respectfully and gestured towards the Throne of Ancient Knowledge.

"My Lord. Your seat."

Kallig's eyes widened a fraction. She looked to the others, who all let their emotions show clearly on their faces. "My lord," she replied to Mortis, giving a deep bow, "this is everything I've ever dreamed of. Frankly, I'm a bit overwhelmed."

The hulking, masked form of Darth Marr waved a hand dismissively. "You just defeated a member of the Dark Council in single combat. You have clearly prepared for this day."

Another man, a human with greying hair and a look of indignation, said, "she's only a lord! You can't put a lord on the Dark Council."

It was true, but with an obvious solution.

"Quiet, Ravage," Marr barked, "she's earned her place."

At a gesture from him, the four of the council present formed up around her. A thrill of fear went through Kallig, and she suppressed the urge to peek into one of their minds. Bad enough she could barely control her thoughts; there was no way they were untrained enough to let her into theirs unnoticed.

Darth Marr, the clear leader, stepped forward and faced her directly. He raised his arms portentously and spoke.

"By order of the Dark Council and in light of your inscrutable reputation, you are now Darth Occlus."

Occlus.

Inscrutable reputation.

In spite of herself, Kallig's mind leapt, not to another's, but to her past.

"You won't have me," growled the ghost of Darth Andru. "This is my last stronghold. And I will not be your slave."

Maybe it was that word. Maybe it was her fear of the Sith's power if it ever broke free. Maybe she thought it would be easier to control. But she knew what it wasn't, knew what she admitted to herself in memory but not at the time.

To the ghost of Andru, Kallig had said, "I will free you when I'm done."

And, rather than enslavement, a bargain had been struck.

When asked, she'd told Khem Val that she made the deal out of respect for a great Sith Lord. He'd believed her, and his respect for her had grown just a fraction. And why not? She'd only spoken the truth. After a fashion.

After all, what greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause? To use their own knowledge against them?

Khem agreed with her sentiment, being a relic of the past himself, and he rested easier in the future, believing he knew that little bit more about his "little Sith".

Kallig stood over the corpse of Lord Althe.

Her owner.

She couldn't help it. A grin spread across her face, and she turned to share it with Andronikos. The pirate gave a grunt and nodded to her. He knew revenge.

She'd given him a weak excuse about performing an assassination for the Revanites, a kill that gave them more power over a particular sect of the Sith.

He'd known it was a lie. What he hadn't known was that she'd intended for him to know. Later, when they'd "grown closer," she revealed to him why she'd killed Althe, told him about the revenge, and laughed over the victory.

First, he thought he knew her. Then, he thought she confided in him.

Perfect trust, because he knew her better than she knew herself.

She leaned into the console, watching two fleets battle in the distance. The Republic and Darth Achelon's forces.

If the Silencer superweapon fired now, both would be wiped out. Tens of thousands of deaths on her hands.

The Republic fleet was doomed. She had no choice, if her goal was the Dark Council. Without a successful test, there would be no Silencer. Without the Silencer, the moffs would not support her. So the Republic fleet would be the test.

And the Imperial fleet? Thanaton's forces, and led by a Sith Lord. A despotic monster with power he had never earned. Not that she'd ever met, or even heard of, Darth Achelon.

One didn't need to pick up a clod of earth to know it was dirty.

The Imperial fleet wasn't just made up of Sith, though. Thousands of soldiers served on those ships, fighting their misguided war.

The Republic fleet was a necessary sacrifice. Kallig's choice, then, was whether Darth Achelon was worth thousands of lives – Imperial lives, but lives nonetheless.

"Tell Darth Achelon," she began. Then she met Talos' eyes, his enthusiastic, hopeful eyes as he watched his favourite Sith Lord make her play for power.

She continued smoothly, without a change in tone or expression, "to pull his fleet back. We will deal with the Republic."

Later, she hadn't said anything about her dilemma. She hadn't mentioned how Talos had shown her the truth of the Imperial people. She hadn't even thanked Talos for being there while she murdered thousands of unsuspecting Republic soldiers. Instead, she told the archaeologist that she'd made the choice for the good of the Empire. That the strength of the Empire was in its shows of faith and the willingness of the Sith to work together. And he had believed her. After all, he knew her too well to believe otherwise.

Then Lord Kallig – no, Darth Occlus – Darth Occlus returned to herself, looking into the red and black mask of Darth Marr. She bowed, never taking her eyes off the man.

Occlus, he'd named her. For occlusion, the act of blocking somebody's vision.

It was a testament to Darth Marr's perception that he'd named her so after only having just met her. It proved she would have to be much more cautious around him than any other. Because Darth Marr understood intuitively something that nobody else did. Not Khem Val and Zash, not Talos Drellik or Ashaara Zavros. Even the Emperor's Wrath and his little grey jedi pet, who'd been so susceptible to her unique brand of "negotiation", thought they knew her better than any other.

But there was one thing Darth Occlus had made sure of ever since she discovered her power.

Nobody knew her at all.