INTERLUDE
Sheev Palpatine glanced suspiciously at one of the intelligence reports delivered to him, unconsciously steepling his fingers as he pondered its contents.
A revolt on some strategically insignificant planet normally wouldn't have caught his attention, but this one had an unusual underlying cause. The report described the events in great detail, practically reconstructing the entire timeline hour by hour so the Chancellor wouldn't have to.
Lifting his gaze from the documents and staring absently at the office door, he tried to recall everything he knew about the individual responsible for this chaos. His memory helpfully "supplied" a recent episode: Dooku presenting part of Jabba's "treasury," which included several ancient Sith encased in carbonite—and the story of how one of them had escaped. Dooku had sent a bounty hunter after him, but the hunter had yet to report back. A pity. He had been a decent pawn…
At that moment, another memory clicked into place like a puzzle piece: a recent message from his special agents about Master Yoda's unusual behavior—specifically, his sudden visit to speak with some unknown individual in a park. Unfortunately, since Sheev had been acting under cover and suppressing his Force presence, he couldn't confirm whether this was the same being Dooku had "lost." But too many details lined up to ignore. Too many to leave things as they were. So, he accepted the connection as a working hypothesis.
Now he could trace the ancient Sith's entire path—from Tatooine to Riflor. With a few keystrokes, he pulled up the specifications of both ships the Sith had used, including their hyperdrives, as well as the exact departure and arrival times from Coruscant and Riflor. That allowed him to calculate the travel duration and confirm that the Sith hadn't made any detours.
Next, he focused on the Sith's unusual behavior. If he truly had met Yoda—and Yoda had not deemed it necessary to attack him—then this Sith was far from simple. Certainly, no amateur at deception. A worthy opponent. After all, he had somehow fooled an old Jedi Master, though Palpatine himself wouldn't have found that particularly difficult.
At this point, he needed to decide on his next move. Should he add a new pawn to his board—one who wouldn't even realize he was being used? Or eliminate him quickly before he disrupted the already tangled web of schemes Palpatine was weaving?
Searching for the most advantageous option, he dug deeper into his memory, recalling ancient chronicles passed down by his master—records of the old Sith Empire. Unfortunately, there was nothing even remotely resembling the individual described in the report, this "Taaless."
If this relic from the distant past possessed both great power and cunning intellect, then he absolutely needed to be eliminated. If he lacked even one of those qualities… well, taking him as an apprentice would be pointless, and loyalty could not be expected. But if Sidious proved stronger, he could easily bend the relic to his will. And then interrogate him—thoroughly—about ancient Dark Side techniques. No, regardless of the outcome, the Sith should be captured and questioned before being destroyed. But first, Palpatine needed more information.
With that conclusion, he finished reading the report, lingering especially on the recording of Taaless's "debate" with some unimpressive agitator clearly unfit for the role. He watched the recording three times.
First, he focused on the content of the speech.
Then he rewatched it, paying attention to small details—facial expressions, unconscious gestures.
Finally, he watched only the crowd's reaction.
What he saw was… promising.
Not the nonsense the Sith was feeding to the slack‑jawed yokels of that backwater planet, but the way he dominated the crowd with charisma amplified by the Force.
Sheev had given many speeches himself, though he rarely used the Force during them for the sake of secrecy. He could say with certainty: the Sith had absolutely used the Force here. Convincing people with such absurd rhetoric so easily… Palpatine simply didn't believe it was possible otherwise.
Still, the system this young man had devised was surprisingly coherent—and disturbingly humane. Sidious even found himself briefly impressed by the cunning woven into his "colleague's" speech. He wasn't just proposing to overthrow the current government and likely install himself later—though he wisely avoided mentioning that part for now—he also gave the people a personal incentive to help him.
"Overthrow the current rulers, and we'll all live in prosperity."
A strategy only a couple of levels below Sidious's own.
At least in Sidious's case, the probability of success was far higher. He wouldn't need to conquer countless planets afterward, unlike Taaless. No, Sidious would simply become their ruler in a single stroke. Meanwhile, this "enthusiast" would have to send armies across the galaxy to support uprisings—because no one ever gives up power willingly.
Finishing his analysis of the ancient Sith, Sheev finally decided what to do. First, gather information. Second, anticipate the Sith's next move and test his strength—preferably using someone expendable. Dooku's "secret" apprentice would do nicely. Not that she was useless, but of all the Force‑sensitives under his influence, she was the least valuable. Of course, Palpatine wouldn't care even if Dooku died, but that would complicate his plans—and adjusting plans was always a "painful" process. Better to remove a card from the deck that wouldn't matter later.
Next: anticipate the enemy's intentions. Palpatine had an idea.
Where would a Sith from the past go, if not Korriban?
It was the first place that came to mind. Palpatine was surprised Taaless had chosen Coruscant instead. But now that the Jedi had found him and driven him away, and his little "revolutionary enterprise" had been put on hold—presumably to gather more strength—he would almost certainly head there. After years in a cryo‑capsule, he had surely lost many skills, and restoring them required a world steeped in the Dark Side, one that also held ancient knowledge…
Palpatine himself had tried to retrieve that knowledge, but the spirits of the ancient Sith jealously guarded their secrets, refusing to allow "the unworthy" near them. Well, once he ruled the entire galaxy, they would see who was truly unworthy.
In any case, somewhere on Korriban there had to be a holocron from the Sith Academy—one containing dossier on all its students, including Taaless. His profile should be there. Even if the Dathomiri witch failed to meet him, she would at least retrieve the necessary information.
And for now, he needed to adjust the report on the Riflor uprising—just enough so the Jedi Council wouldn't rush to confront this new enemy prematurely…
XXXXXX
So, I screwed up again.
No, our ship didn't immediately fly into a Republic ambush after we finished on Riflor. The truth was much more mundane. Our all‑knowing captain, a.k.a. Gertis Tios, suddenly informed me that according to his calculations, if we exited hyperspace at the coordinates I provided, we would most likely drop out inside a small star. Or rather, the hyperdrive's idiot‑proofing system would probably yank us back into real space before we actually materialized inside the star and roasted alive—but that still didn't make the prospect pleasant.
Only then did it hit me: the galaxy—curse it—rotates, moves, drifts, and on top of that, space itself is expanding. Otherwise the night sky would be pure white from the sheer number of stars. Which meant my old Korriban coordinates could be shoved straight up a tyranid's—
Ahem. Wrong universe.
Point is: there was no way I was getting there with those numbers.
And while I was torturing my brain (and not only mine) trying to figure out how to reach those coordinates—at one point even suggesting we "adjust them for the passage of time," an idea I rejected myself after two seconds of thought—we received a message from the elected representative of the R.G.A. I'll just call him the General Secretary. And no, I'm not aiming for that position. I'm perfectly fine staying in the shadows; I've already attracted more than enough attention.
Honestly, I was very surprised when I first met this Corellian, but we quickly found common ground, and he ended up becoming one of my most loyal assistants. So loyal that sometimes I caught a fanatical gleam in his eyes—and I really didn't like that. I could feel the subconscious use of the Force all over it.
His name was Darri—a man of average height and age, a native of Corellia, dark‑haired, tanned, and lean after spending so long on Riflor. The locals respected him immensely. They chose him themselves, without my involvement, and put him in charge. Well, their choice.
Back to his message: he informed me that to establish themselves at their new location, they would need a mountain of resources. And while the other members of the R.G.A. were already working on that, they would be very grateful if I could help.
Of course. Rumors about Jedi had been circulating around the galaxy for years, and they had mistaken me for a runaway Jedi—so naturally they hoped for some assistance. I couldn't dodge that one, so I promised to help… later. Darri sent me a rough list and asked me to let them know in advance what I planned to acquire so they wouldn't waste time duplicating efforts.
I noted it down, but first I needed to deal with my own pathetic weakness. Meditation and sparring with Kem kept me in decent shape, but it was nowhere near my maximum—or even halfway to what "I could do" in the game.
Sure, I remembered a few things from Taaless's memories and trained to my limit, but logic told me that if I had forgotten something important, my training might actually make things worse. So I had to dig deep into my mind to recall anything useful.
Unfortunately, I had never been a hardcore Star Wars lore geek. I just liked watching cool movies and playing fun games without diving into the deep lore—something I now cursed myself for. Would it have killed me to memorize anything? But no. My memory was a cosmic vacuum when I tried to recall some hidden stash with an ancient holocron or anything like that. Nothing came to mind except Korriban.
Why couldn't I have ended up in damn Warhammer, where I'm at least a solid four‑out‑of‑five expert?
…
Wait, no. Scratch that. I am VERY glad I ended up in Star Wars. I've been tired lately, thinking all sorts of nonsense.
After a couple of hours, the only thing I managed to remember—barely, and only by stretching logic—was a planet from the beginning of Jedi Academy: Yavin… four, I think. Later I realized Yavin was a gas giant and Yavin IV was its moon, but at first I thought it was the fourth planet in the system. Whatever. The important part is I figured it out.
There was a temple there, built by a Sith. Thankfully, I had once read a comic about that place—long ago, but I vaguely remembered that a spirit lingered there, someone I could potentially have a "heart‑to‑heart" with. Pardon the pun. Assuming he hadn't gone completely insane like that old lunatic in the Korriban tomb from SWTOR. In any case, I'd bring Kem with me. As a non‑Force‑sensitive, he could at least drag my lifeless body out if things went wrong.
I spent some time studying the galactic map and was surprised it didn't list the four habitable moons of Yavin—only the gas giant itself. Someone must have scrubbed the "extra" information. Not surprising. All the interesting places in this galaxy seem to get erased from maps. You always have to go into ruins or enemy bases just to find out where you're supposed to go. Seems to be a law of this universe. At least I got lucky this time. Yes, I'd have to fly around the planet and then past its moons searching for a tiny Sith base compared to them—but I'm a Force‑user, not a tourist. I'd figure it out.
The hyperspace jump (or rather, several jumps) took a long time, so I trained again. This time, I focused on control: I hooked up the ship's equivalent of an ammeter to a metal plate between two resistors and tried to maintain either a very strong charge or a very weak one for as long as possible.
I started with the weak charge, gradually increasing the voltage. It wasn't easy. But what else was I supposed to do—telekinetically lift barbell plates? My specialization was lightning—or rather, this body's specialization—and it came far more naturally to me than even basic techniques like Force Speed. Maybe it was a natural talent. I didn't know, and it didn't matter.
The important thing was that after a day, I finally began using the "focuser" in training—the device I had previously been afraid to damage with an overly strong discharge. Now, after some practice, I felt confident enough to try. And it paid off. I had no idea who made this thing or what it was made of, but it fit in my hand perfectly. It felt… familiar. Not like a Force‑user's weapon, but like a beloved childhood toy. Strange emotions.
Later I realized why: over years of use, I (or rather, Taaless) had "soaked" it with my own Force signature—similar to how Jedi supposedly imbued their lightsabers with their energy. You have to feel it once to understand.
With the focuser, I could generate much stronger lightning while spending about fifty percent less energy. But the first time I used it at full power… I swore never to do that again without a very good reason.
In short: I was overwhelmed by a savage desire to unleash those lightning bolts into something alive and watch it suffer. I barely held myself back from acting on that impulse. That was the moment I drew an invisible line for myself—a boundary that, if crossed, would mean almost guaranteed "falling." Yes, I already used the Dark Side, but I still kept my sanity.
If I fell completely, I'd end up with pretty golden irises and half‑boiled brains. And since I'd already half‑boiled the other half trying to remember anything useful from my past life, I'd be a Sith vegetable forever. A terrible fate I'd rather avoid.
On the third day, I began practicing shaping lightning. Without the focuser, it was impossible. Just lightning, nothing more. But with it…
If Sidious ever learned about this little "toy" of mine, he'd lose his mind and drag it out of a black hole if he had to. Force lightning was his favorite trick—aside from his mastery of the lightsaber.
So what did I learn?
The first form: lightning spreading outward in a hemispherical blast, creating a powerful shockwave. If I added a Force Push to it, even Kem couldn't stay on his feet—and that was me using half power. He had volunteered to see what I could do. He was impressed. And he never volunteered again. Good for him.
The next technique—one I copied from the game—nearly fried part of the ship's electronics. In hindsight, testing a wide‑area attack inside my own ship was not the brightest idea. But it was too late to regret it. Thankfully, all we got was a minor power surge. Turns out the ship's designers weren't idiots and had built‑in systems to dump excess current somewhere safe.
But the technique itself? Impressive. I had to think for a while about how the game's protagonist used it, but once I pictured it, I understood: you simply "suspend" the focuser above your enemies and channel power into it. The device then distributes lightning downward in a set radius, giving everyone inside an unforgettable experience.
Unfortunately, even in the game this technique required time to charge—and in real life, even more so. It took about thirty seconds to prepare, which is far too long in a real fight. Even if Kem pinned the enemy down, they could always fire an area‑effect shot and break my concentration. Or shoot the focuser itself. It might be made of something blaster‑proof—maybe even beskar—but I wasn't betting on it.
Until I figure out some kind of defense—or buy a personal shield generator like a droideka's—I can't rely on this technique. Unless I attack first, from ambush.
The first technique, by the way, also wasn't instant, but it only required a second of focus on the device to unleash the blast. In theory, if I ever ended up in a close‑quarters duel with a Jedi or Sith even worse at swordsmanship than I am, I might catch them off guard.
The last technique I learned during the flight was what I called "Shock." In short, it's delivering maximum voltage into a single target. The previous two techniques disperse energy, causing pain and muscle spasms, but this one—focused on a normal being—would likely be lethal. It wasn't like Palpatine's Force lightning; it was a short, concentrated discharge, like a lightning bolt from the focuser straight into the target. In theory.
In practice, when I tried to charge it fully, I nearly turned myself into a Sith vegetable. But if I used it at the highest level I could safely manage—just below the threshold of falling to the Dark Side—it would knock out most beings instantly. A B‑1 droid would be destroyed, of course, but I could handle those with a lightsaber anyway.
I admit, I got carried away. If we hadn't arrived, I would've kept experimenting. But everything ends eventually, and I needed to reach the planet as soon as possible, so I wrapped up. No, I wasn't stupid enough to walk into the lair of an ancient Sith spirit without some way to defend myself. Naturally, I had a plan. And no, not the kind you smoke.
There was one problem: I didn't remember the Sith's exact name or mental state. Only that his name—or surname—was "Kun." I remembered it because of "Davy Jones in reverse," a.k.a. Plo Koon. When I first heard the name, I wondered if they were related but later learned they weren't even the same species.
So, my plan wasn't perfect. But who's perfect?
Worst case, Kem—being the least Force‑sensitive—would drag me out. Best case… I'd get a lead on a ritual my character was supposed to learn later in the game's storyline. I wasn't supposed to know about it, but thanks to a certain helpful person who spoiled half the plot for me, I did.
I didn't remember the details—something about taking poison, then something else—but it didn't matter. I wasn't trusting my memory on this. Better to find the source of the knowledge here. In the worst case, I was certain Palpatine had a copy of the ritual. As the apprentice of a Sith obsessed with immortality, he must have inherited plenty of knowledge about Force spirits. But I'd only approach him if I had absolutely no other choice.
The ritual, as I recalled, allowed one to subjugate Force spirits and "draw" power from them. There were several ways to do it. One could even negotiate peacefully—help the spirit, and it helps you. That was the basis of my "brilliant" plan: rely on my charisma, which had already proven itself once, and talk him into cooperating. Yes, it sounded stupid, but he was probably sick of being stuck there. I had something to offer. While he gave me power, I could help him achieve his own goals.
Of course, this Kun‑whoever might not know the technique at all, but it was worth trying. The main danger was that he might try to possess my body. But I wasn't exactly a novice—I was already sitting in someone else's body, and not just anyone's, but the protagonist of an entire game. That had to count for something.
Still, despite all my reasoning, doubt gnawed at me. Should I really go there? A random Sith wouldn't survive as a Force spirit for so many centuries. Which meant I was about to meet someone far from weak. But… something inside me pushed me forward.
Move. Act. Accept the challenge.
After thinking it over, I decided the game was worth the candle. I had to try.
Focusing harder, I slipped into an uneasy trance and quickly sensed a distinct surge of Dark Side energy coming from one of the planets orbiting the gas giant Yavin.
"The time has come to shape my destiny…" I whispered, giving the captain the order to set course for the planet that called to me.