Jumping into the Unknown Regions is always a lottery where your life is at stake, and the prize is a dubious chance not to smear yourself across a wandering black hole. But when the coordinates are hammered into your mind by the spirit of an ancient Sith who needs something from you, the whole ordeal stops being frightening. Well… maybe just a little.
The planet we emerged near apparently didn't have a name. On Gertis's charts this whole area was just a "gray zone," but we found it surprisingly quickly. In theory, the coordinates should've drifted over the centuries of the ancient Sith's imprisonment, but no—there it was. A world wrapped in a thick, eternally crimson nebula that jammed our sensors and made the Aurora's navigation systems scream in panic.
"Boss, I don't want to whine, but if we get stuck here, archaeologists might find us in a couple thousand years," Gertis grumbled, gripping the controls. "The magnetic field here is so strong my dental crowns are vibrating."
"Just land the ship, Gertis. Over there, in that canyon." I pointed at a barely visible gap among the rocks—jagged formations like the teeth of some colossal beast.
Exar Kun wouldn't be a Sith (though if I remember right, he was technically just a Dark Jedi, but whatever) if he hadn't protected his "vault." The moment we entered the atmosphere, I felt it—the pressure of the Dark Side was so dense it was almost tangible. But it wasn't just an "aura." It felt like a security system built on alchemy and blood. No idea where he dug up that kind of technology.
When the ramp lowered, a stench of rot and something else—faintly familiar and unpleasant—hit my nose. Like the smell in a dentist's office when they drill your tooth. Burned bone? But softer. Around the landing site stood obelisks covered in ancient runes, emitting a low hum that made my skin crawl.
"Gertis, keep an eye on Grana," I ordered, checking my lightsaber.
Kun's hidden base had multiple layers of defense. First, we encountered ancient droids—half stone, half metal—shaped like Massassi warriors. They stood motionless in the canyon passages until we approached. The moment I took another step, their eyes lit up bright red. Thankfully, Kun had apparently "warned" his system—when I raised my left hand with the holocron, the lights in their eyes faded, and the ancient machines went still again. But the sense of danger didn't go anywhere.
And then… the old bastard really went all out here, indulging his paranoia. The traps ahead were far worse.
Walking through narrow corridors carved directly into the rock, I began seeing… visions. My body pierced by a blue lightsaber wielded by some Jedi. Then myself, eyes blazing with fury, losing control to rage. A "standard Sith hospitality package," apparently—drag your deepest fears out of your head and shove them in your face so you feel right at home.
"It's all… lies!" I growled to Kem Val, who was also glancing around suspiciously and snarling at empty corners.
Inside me, a real battle was raging. The "cells" for Force spirits—Darth Imperius's legacy—were vibrating. My body seemed to recognize this place on its own. It wanted to absorb the energy saturating the air. Every breath felt heavy, like my lungs were filling with liquid lead.
I couldn't shake the thought: was this fossil conning me? Bringing a "fresh" body full of power straight into the heart of his lair—what could be more convenient for a final takeover? What if all that talk about "bases" and "knowledge" was just a carrot for the donkey—me? I walked forward, feeling anxiety pulse in my temples. One wrong step, one burst of anger—and sure, I'd continue walking… but would it still be my consciousness in this body, or that of a dead, senile maniac?
But it was too late to turn back. And honestly, greed outweighed fear. If there really was a stash of crystals and artifacts… it would make life much easier for me and the entire R.G.A.
Finally, we reached massive black stone doors decorated with gold inlay. They were so huge that even Kem Val looked like a cockroach about to be swatted with a slipper. No idea why that analogy popped into my head—sorry, Kem. This place wasn't good for my sanity. Something horrifying lurked behind those doors.
I stopped, wiping sweat from my forehead. My hands trembled slightly, but I clenched my fists and forced myself to calm down.
"Kem, stay here. If I start screaming or walk out with yellow eyes and begin preaching about some empire—attack without hesitation."
The dasheyd nodded sharply, baring his teeth. At least I could rely on him—he'd kill me out of sheer competitive spirit if I slipped.
The doors parted, revealing the main hall… I don't know where the old Sith got the resources to build something like this in secret, but it was a colossal amphitheater. Endless shelves of datapads and scrolls lined the walls, and in the center stood a pedestal.
I walked toward it slowly, each step echoing loudly. I pulled Kun's holocron from my bag. The cube vibrated and glowed with the same crimson light we'd seen outside.
"Well, Exar… I'm here," I said quietly into the empty hall. "Show me your treasures before I change my mind and blow this place to hell."
The air above the pedestal shimmered. The holocron tore itself from my hands and settled into a socket. Darkness thickened, and a figure began to form. This time he wasn't a transparent hologram. Here, in his sanctum, Kun looked almost alive. His armor glinted faintly, and his gaze… his gaze was so heavy I nearly dropped to one knee just to stay upright.
"You have come," Kun's voice boomed through the hall, making the stones vibrate. "You overcame fear and shadows. You brought me my legacy."
He gestured, and thousands of lights flared along the walls, illuminating unimaginable wealth and ancient machinery.
"You look at this and see gold and stones? Then you are a fool. I see the beginning of a new era. The galaxy is drowning in chaos—I feel it even through the veil of centuries. The Republic is weaker than ever. Those who call themselves 'Sith' now are mere shadows hiding from the sun. It is time to remind the galaxy what True Darkness is."
I crossed my arms, trying to look confident even as my insides twisted.
"Your 'True Darkness' lost a few thousand years ago, Exar. Times have changed. New weapons, new players. If you think you'll walk out of here and everyone will bow, I've got bad news for you."
Kun turned toward me, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"Times change, but the nature of sentients remains the same. They always crave power and always fear those who wield it. Want advice from an old… hmm… 'cunning fox,' as you called me? Infiltrate their Confederacy. I sense a spirit of rebellion in it—familiar from my own wars. Find their leader. What did you call him? Count? Ridiculous title. Remove him. Take his place. Then the game truly begins."
"Eliminate Dooku?" I let out a nervous laugh. "Do you even know who he is? He's a master duelist, one of the strongest Force‑users of his era. And he's backed by someone far worse."
"That's your problem. I merely offer advice. This hall contains everything you need. Knowledge, weapons, resources. Train. Remember what lies hidden in your blood. And when you need power… come to old Exar Kun. I know from your thoughts that you can let me inhabit your body and gain my strength from it. I don't need you as an enemy—we would be excellent allies. You and I. Just return to Yavin IV when you realize it's necessary. And you will. I've seen it in visions… Now go. It's all yours."
He pointed to a shelf where a stack of datapads labeled "Maps and Strategies" lay under a beam of light.
And in some ways, the ancient Sith—or fallen Jedi—was right. The idea was interesting, and it wouldn't leave my mind. To defeat Sidious (and I had to defeat him, or he'd kill me sooner or later), I needed comparable power. Not just personal strength, but an army and a fleet. Right now the Confederacy danced to his tune, but what if… I took the lead? I'd need preparation, but I didn't have all the time in the world—quite the opposite. And the information here would take decades to study. Shame I'd have to leave most of it behind—I wasn't risking hauling it onto my ship.
…
A week later, I finally reached the ship and collapsed into the nearest chair in the common room. Across from me, Grana and—drumroll—Kem were playing some holo‑game that looked like tabletop football. The surrealism made me rub my eyes, then pinch myself to check if I'd fried my brain reading ancient manuscripts. But no. No hypnosis, no Force fluctuations. The dasheyd was genuinely hunched over the game, pressing buttons and swearing in his language as he tried to beat the kid. I'd have to take him to a psychologist later—either the long stasis scrambled his brain, or he'd always been like this.
I leaned back and thought over everything. Something inside me urged me to act immediately, but I forced myself to plan. Sure, only a couple times in my life had things gone according to plan, but going in unprepared usually ended even worse.
So, what do we have? Let me lay it out like quests in my personal journal:
Main quest: eliminate Dooku.
Theoretically doable. Ventress has surely reported about me, so they know I exist. Considering I escaped a Hutt and a bounty hunter, they probably won't doubt my usefulness. Joining their little club shouldn't be hard. Sidious will likely prefer keeping a potential threat where he can see it and approve it. Since he hasn't killed me yet, he's indifferent for now. If I play by his rules, he'll ignore me. Worst case, he'll send me on a suicide mission—but I can handle that. I have a head on my shoulders.
So how to do it? Probably get close to Dooku, become an indispensable subordinate he'll allow near enough for a duel with no witnesses. I'll also need to work with the Neimoidians, maybe even get my hands dirty in politics and replace a few of them with my own picks. But if you want to live, you'll do anything. And I do want to live—preferably for a long time.
On the bright side, I now have a pile of reference materials and information about some mysterious event that will (judging by Kun's tone, must) bring me back to Yavin IV. He didn't even spare his books for it. Why not just ask for another Force‑sensitive to be brought? Why me?
Well, I wouldn't agree to that either.
Why? Simple. Even siding with the Separatists, I felt sad about fighting Jedi—I even pity them. Mostly based on knowledge from my past life, since I've only met a couple Jedi here, but so far Earth's info matches what's happening in this galaxy. Except maybe the dates—I never remembered numbers, so who knows, maybe the Battle of Geonosis happened a month earlier than Lucas wrote.
Anyway, I don't have to kill them. I just need to practice non‑lethal techniques. Then it's simple—capture a Jedi, deliver him "for interrogation," then conveniently let him escape. Or better—help him escape during transport. Let them figure out who leaked the convoy route. And if someone suspects something, I'll find a scapegoat. Doesn't even have to be organic.
Ugh. Thinking like this makes me feel like a textbook villain… If only it were that simple. Unfortunately, I'm a product of my time and culture, so my head is full of this cursed gray morality. No pure good or evil.
I sat a bit longer, then pulled myself together. After talking with the captain and refueling from Kun's reserves, we headed to the nearest space station, hoping to find a place to join the Separatists. Gertis guaranteed I'd find the best informants there, and there was no reason not to trust the old man. He'd lived long and knew a lot… even if some of his stories sounded a bit… questionable.
…
Sure enough, entering a small cantina on a disgustingly filthy station, I found a Neimoidian with a special symbol painted above his booth. It blended perfectly with the graffiti‑covered walls—this place looked like a "renovated" abandoned building. When I approached him under the annoyed stares of the locals, no one tried to pick a fight. Good. I was ready. I could deflect blaster bolts in almost ten out of ten cases now—constant training with non‑lethal weapons paid off. (I couldn't afford a training droid, but Grana was free, so he did the shooting—and gained experience too.)
I was right not to waste credits on a droid, because the informant—who I disliked immediately—started getting cocky. Unfortunately, information isn't something you can just grab and run with. If I intimidated him, he might lie outright, and his colleagues would cause trouble later. So I swallowed my irritation and paid him a hefty sum. And nudged his mind with the Force as best I could. It seemed to work—he looked very motivated.
Thankfully, I wasn't asking for anything top‑secret—just locations of current and potential Republic–CIS skirmishes. Common info. Plenty of beings rush to battlefields hoping to scavenge after heavy fights. The earlier you arrive, the more you can grab before others show up. So the info existed, and while the price was high, it wasn't outrageous—I could've gone to his competitors if he pushed it.
He dumped a dozen locations on me—clearly fewer than the actual number of battles, but I hadn't paid that much, so fair enough. One entry caught my eye:
"Probability of conflict: 80%. Probability of large‑scale conflict: 50%."
No time listed—just analysis based on spy reports.
What caught my attention was the planet's name:
Toydaria.
I "meditated" (figuratively), and then it hit me:
The beginning of the Clone Wars series.
Yoda.
His battle with… Ventress.
And Dooku via holo‑link.
There it was.