Chap 43: Interlude 2

Useless!

The guard, some pup he wouldn't have even bothered testing if this was Korriban, died as he twisted the Force. Vengean's guards were useless, this fortress was useless, and more than anything his apprentice was useless.

Baras strangled the next four that ran at him, fanatical devotion in their eyes, and did so with his own hands. Power coursed through his body as his fingers squeezed, breaking necks as easily as gripping a datapad. It calmed him, if only a little, and he continued on his way.

This moon, hidden so deeply it did not even have a name, that the fortress was built on was far from anything important. The private, very secret, home of his Master. Of a member of the Dark Council, and thus highly guarded. Unfortunately for the man, most of those had been called away by the Darth himself not an hour before, attending to him on Dromund Kaas.

No one needed to know the man wasn't there, of course. In fact, the man was here. Alone. Nearly undefended and ready to be disposed of. This. This was why he always insisted on preparing his own security.

Which would have to be reorganised again, Ellaria's idiocy robbing him of an unstable subject. A subject he could have twisted easily enough into the captain of his guard, with the right rituals, to replace the last one. But she was dead, wasn't she?

So were Draahg, Oletus, Omarus and Mandus. The sorcerer was the real loss, there. A man with keen insight and a talent for fate-reading, that alone rare enough as it was, and able to follow orders. Slaughtered by a child without enough raw power to be called anything but an apprentice.

Now he had to find a new one, which could take years to train, and face the wrath of those reserving the Lords after him. That pool was shallow, he would admit, but more would replace them in time. Not all were good enough to be an apprentice, yet not so useless to be discarded. The rank and file of sith Lords, some called them.

Baras called them tools.

And Vengean had plenty of those, even if few of them were actual Lords. And still, with the bulk of his forces gone, hundreds filled the hallways and chambers of the citadel. Many more scurried away, those needed to keep a large place like this running, and as he crushed two dozen droids to pulp he took a proper look around.

Once the security leaks were dealt with, especially the fact people knew where this place was, it wouldn't be too terrible. His own people would have to be brought in, naturally, and a complete overhaul of operational security was needed, but other than that?

The staff and servants were home-grown, loyal in a way you only get by raising them from birth. This place had a history, he'd done his homework, and they served one master with the same ease as another. It helped that none actually saw who was in charge.

Yes, this would do just fine.

Another stairway, one he jumped with a flex of will, and grand doors appeared. Inlaid with more wealth than some planets possessed, no doubt, though he himself didn't find it particularly pleasing. Appreciating the finer things in life was one thing, decorating your door was another.

The guard proved stronger than the rest, nearly equal to a Lord, and Baras crushed the woman's mind with no more effort than taking a step. So few possessed proper mental defences, sometimes even among his ranks, and it really was a shame. A soft whisper reminded him of someone who did, possessing shields and skill and more.

Baras, in his weaker moments, sometimes wished he'd seen the boy's potential back on Korriban. Moulded him before that holocron got its hooks in the child. Finding out he'd been passed over for the mind of a dead man, a copy of a mind no less, had instilled such rage another Darth had sent servants over to complain about the noise.

But what was done was done, no matter the outcome. Morgan had cost him more than enough, both in time and resources, and he would be dealt with soon enough. He was no Darth, not yet, and as a member of the Dark Council he would have resources unmatched. But before that he would have to take what was his, and declaring himself the Voice without a strong opening move would get him nowhere.

People had to fear him, to worry it might actually be true, and then the true work could begin.

The door opened with a push, revealing more wealth within. And his target, his Master, sitting on a throne. A bit heavy handed, perhaps, but Baras wasn't one to judge. "So you have come. Your gift has given me clarity, apprentice. I thank you for it."

"It was a rare find." He said. Darth Vengean rose, gently detaching needles from his skin. Baras smiled behind his mask. "Poison that can harm one of us is scarce indeed."

"You are not yet that. Not until you kill me. Come then, apprentice. You've played your hand. Let us see if it was enough."

Vengean waved his hand, causing row after row of stasis tubes to rise from the floor. Baras observed them with a glance, falling back half a step. His lightsaber rose to meet his hand, he let some fear bleed into the Force, and smiled as the contraptions opened.

Dead flesh spilled out, Baras relaxing with a mocking laugh. "Come now, Vengean. Did you think I would not find out? Cloning sith Lords is an old trick, very old, though you've achieved better compatibility results than most. Not so stable sabotage was impossible, though."

"Draahg." The Darth growled. "I should have known. He will die screaming."

Baras shrugged. "Already did, actually. You're not the only one with troublesome subordinates. Now, are you going to play for more time or shall we get on with this? It's been ever so long since I got to flex my strength."

Power rose as Vengean screamed, a wave of Force spreading from his body, and the room turned to rubble in moments. Baras overlaid four shields and watched two break, noting the levels of stress, and weathered it just fine.

He grinned, ripping the mask from his face. Pale, scarred flesh embraced air for the first time in months, disease oozing from his body and infecting the air. Baras felt his face contort as he forced the grin wider, having lost fine sensation oh so long ago. "My turn."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Baras smoothed his expression as he stepped through the door, finding all eleven members of the Dark Council waiting. Not in the flesh, of course, but enough to proclaim him their newest member. He could almost feel their attention as he stepped forward, ignoring the red armoured guard closing the door.

"Baras." Marr welcomed, one of the four actually present. The man usually was, Vengean had complained about that often enough, but Baras didn't care. This was his moment, and no one could take it. "You have delivered proof of your Master's death and lay claim to his seat. We will decide if your declaration is lawful, if you deserve the power you desire, and strike you down if it is not so."

He was ready. Years of work, months of delays, but he was ready. Being judged unworthy was rare, though it happened, and was the reason four members had to be physically present. There was a plan should that happen, though he'd much prefer it did not, and Baras grinned behind his mask.

"I am ready. My Master lies slain, killed in the very stronghold I now rule, and by ancient law I cannot be denied. Test me, my Emperor, and see me hold strong."

Not that that would actually happen. The test was simple, if possessing deadly consequence, and was meant to ensure no subpar sith ascended this high. There was a time the Emperor held it himself, long ago, but these days his soon-to-be peers would hold the trial.

Power swelled as he rallied defences, dozens of techniques meant to protect every ounce of his being. Three defences for his mind, only two of which used the Force, and six more for his soul. Taken from primitive kingdoms and rival Darth's, pried from beyond the grave and extracted by the Ravager. Then more should they fail, variations working better against some than others.

Marr started, summoning enough strength to halt a fleeing ship, and Baras paled involuntarily as blood pressed down. Not taking it lightly, then. Of course he wouldn't. He pulsed his reinforcement, wasteful but effective, and the pressure lessened.

Decimus and Vowrawn attacked together, probing and testing and using the fact he was still dealing with Marr, and managed to pierce his protections. Took control of his arm, Baras fought to eject their influence, and it rose anyway. Slow, and dropping his lightsaber, but it rose.

Thanaton came, snapping techniques and slipping past safeguards, but even he took too long. No one save the Emperor could hold forever against four, nevermind without striking back, but he did not have to hold indefinitely. Just enough to prove he had what it took, to prove he had power, and when time ran out even Marr nodded. Begrudgingly, but he nodded.

Baras straightened, noting his reserves were down to twenty five percent. Within margins, but closer than he'd hoped. Marr's voice rumbled across the chamber, indicating the seat of Military Offence.

Shorter than expected, not even he had managed to unveil the complete secrets of the Council, but Baras took it with glee. Finally, finally, he was where he belonged.

Marr stood. "Now then, to business. The Republic fourth fleet has been sighted ne-"

"A moment, Darth Marr." Baras interrupted, taking visceral satisfaction from the man's surprise. "There is a statement most urgent that needs to be made."

Many shot looks at him, more than a little annoyed, but he was a member now. No matter that he'd been one for seconds, all had the power to interrupt the session for any reason. Vowrawn grunted. "Get on with it, Baras. Some of us have work to do."

"By your pleasure." He said, no hint of irony in his tone. "I do not exaggerate the word urgent, for these are the edicts of our Emperor. He has spoken to me, through the Force and more, and I am but his humble servant. His Voice."

The whole chamber stilled as he spoke the words, an increasingly pleased smile spreading over his face. His body language was suitably somber, of course, as was his tone, but this was going very well indeed. Marr sounded cautious as he spoke, leaning forward. "A false claim will guarantee you a fate far worse than death, Baras."

"Then it is good no lie has left my lips." He answered, voice echoing across the chamber. Had the Emperor actually been here he might have objected, but silence worked in his favour. Oh yes, silence worked just fine. "His absence is no secret to those present, but he has spoken to me. Just as the Wrath inflicts his displeasure, as his Children are his eyes, I am to deliver his verdicts. His commands."

Anger ripped through the room, all members objecting rather vehemently to that proposal, and he closed his eyes. Just saying the words would get him nowhere, he knew this. Marr alone would rather start a civil war than grant one member dominion over the rest, many more would see the current balance to their benefit, and nothing would be gained.

But he had trapped the true Voice on Voss, far away from prying eyes, and learned a secret besides. A very useful secret.

The Emperor's Throne thrummed in acceptance as he unlocked its core, meant to protect and give advantage to the man. Now it would serve to demonstrate his claim, though care had to be taken. The man was ever paranoid, traps were plentiful as a result, but as he interfaced with it his captive was proven truthful.

Not that the Ravager left any other choice. Not even to an eight hundred year old artificer, able as he was. The report had been almost distressing, the device taking near a week to break the man, but all had gone according to plan.

The protests halted as the Emperor's presence rose, soft as smoke but undeniably his, and it carried with it disapproval. And not towards him, either, which caused even Marr to bow his head towards the empty seat. Then silence reigned until the power vanished, running out but looking like something else, and Baras bowed deeply.

"I am but your humble servant." He repeated. "And I will do as you command. Your Dark Council will assist me, as they are sworn to do by oath, and your will shall be done."

They, in fact, didn't look like they wanted to do anything of the sort. Fortunately for him, disobeying any of the Emperor's Vessels was likely to end with you dead. It had happened before, the Wrath killing two and an old Voice speaking another to the grave. Which, as he turned back towards the others, was enough.

Eleven sets of eyes looked to him, eleven heads bowed. Baras nodded to Marr, indicating his interruption was over, and the man moved on as if nothing had happened.

But it had. Oh yes. His days of limited resources, uncooperative Darth's and obeying orders were done. Now all he had to do was enact the second portion of his plan, which admittedly would take years, but then? Then there would be no need to pretend.

The session went on as he luxuriated in his chair, only occasionally speaking up. He was rather new, for now, and there were many secrets he hadn't been read in on yet. He would be, sooner rather than later, but for now a number of topics went over his head.

Until it came to the end, the scheduled portion ending, and he stood. "There is a small matter that must be addressed, my fellow Dark Lords. The sith known as The Fleshcrafter Lord, christened on Korriban as Lord Caro, has committed treason. I petition this Council to officially name him as such, to be hunted down and killed."

"And what treason charges do you bring?" Vowrawn asked, leaning forward. "Surviving your attempt to kill him? Well, survive is perhaps too mild a word. Butchering five sith Lords, escaping your grasp aboard a fleet?"

Baras turned to Marr. "Yes, his fleet. The Enosis, if I recall correctly. A project of yours that has seemingly gone rogue."

"You presume much." Marr growled, a hint of a smile in his tone. "They have been appropriately sanctioned, and their mission statement is to protect the Empire and their subjects. Clean up your own mess before meddling in my affairs."

Could that be true? Was that idiot going to let them go, accrue more power, in an attempt to snub him? Vowrawn sniggered, actually seeming to enjoy himself. The rest of the Council looked bored, some already disconnecting. No need to stay once the official part was over, after all. Not even for the Voice.

The time where this had been a unified body had long since passed.

"I repeat, Darth Baras." Vowrawn said, his face turning into a dismissive sneer. "What charges do you bring? Nothing concerning a plan concocted by you and Vengean, I would hope? Now that would be treason."

He scowled, another two Darth's leaving, and spoke before a majority vote was lost. "He is a danger to this Empire, one that needs to be cleansed. A fleshcrafter, and I will not insult you so by asking if you know what that means. Send Lachris or Shaar and be done with this problem, lest it grows too large."

"Send your own apprentice." Marr rumbled, standing. "You made a mess of this, Baras. Clean it up. Unless the Emperor has commanded us otherwise?"

That would be pushing, and they both knew it. Why would the Emperor care about some renegade Lord, one the Council doesn't even officially acknowledge as such? Baras watched them leave, the pureblood turning back as they were left alone.

"I know you're lying, Baras." Vowrawn whispered, the words seeming to caress his very skin. "I met a Voice, oh so long ago, and you are not it. I know you are lying, and I don't care if you know I do. I'd suggest adapting quickly to your new position. These seats do not care for the unprepared, nor for the foolish."

Baras turned, half prepared to lash out. Things were not beyond repair, he had resources now as the Lord of the Sphere of Military Offense, and he would not take an insult lying down. But, between one blink and the next, Vowrawn was gone.

Yet the man's voice still whispered, coming from every corner of the room. "And you are a fool indeed, for only such would invoke the Emperor's name in their intrigue."

He marched out, ignoring the kneeling guards and fleeing acolytes. He had command over fleets, now, and proper ones. He would find an admiral with spine, one who knew the consequences of running away, and The Fleshcrafter Lord would burn in the vacuum of space.

Him and all his traitorous allies.