Jedi Insurgency 147 (Interlude 19)

Within the cabin of a shuttlecraft, drifting through the blue expanse of hyperspace, Darth Plagueis sat motionless in the pilot's chair. To any observer he would have appeared to be deep in meditation, but his thoughts churned.

In his mind's eye, he still felt the echo of Naboo’s cool evening air on his skin. He had not in his wildest imagination foreseen what had taken place on that serene world. 

For decades, he had believed himself singular in his accomplishments. That he was the sole immortal Sith to walk the galaxy in secret. Yet the man he had spoken to within the experimental laboratory had disabused him of that notion. 

Revan. The name alone prickled his mind.

Curiosity, doubt, longing, and above all else, a hungering desire to know more possessed him. 

The meeting replayed itself with clinical clarity. Revan had appeared as a Jedi, but much like the mask that covered his face, Revan knew, deep down, that he was beyond such labels. Naboo itself was home to a Force Nexus, when he had first visited the world, his presence had touched upon its boundary, and induced a wintery chill so great in magnitude that the world had been blanketed in snow. When he retreated, it was as if the fair planet had reached a degree of harmony, of balance in the Force, that he hardly recognized it. 

And when Plagueis reached toward him through the Force…

His fingers tightened slightly on the armrest. That moment lingered like a phantom ache.

He had expected resistance, a shield, a serpentine coil of dark or light. Instead, his senses had slipped into something fathomless, soundless, and starless. What he sensed was hah, sensed, was a muted aura so complete, so carefully controlled, it was as if the man completely lacked presence. As if Revan were anathema to the very nature of the galaxy itself. He was a void that swallowed every thread Plagueis extended into it. For the briefest instant, a shadow had looked back at him, and for the first time since his youth, he had felt fear. 

Plagueis exhaled slowly. The thrill of it still licked at his spine, and he steepled his fingers as he savored this long lost emotion. 

Retreat, in such a scenario, was not cowardly. To flee was unbecoming of a Sith Master, but so was courting an unfamiliar power without preparation. Eternal life was not to be squandered for a moment's impatience. To truly aspire for immortality, one must act like an immortal. Patience was key, there would be future opportunities. 

Although his pride chafed at the memory, his curiosity burned brighter. A mind like Revan’s, if indeed it was Revan, was a rarity the galaxy might not witness again for millennia.

He had nearly asked for collaboration. The thought was absurd, traitorous to Sith doctrine…and yet intoxicating. What knowledge might a fellow immortal glean beyond the reach of death? What secrets of spirit, of resurrection, or the Force did he hold? 

The masked immortal had spoken of many things during their exchange-some cryptic, some maddeningly direct-but none had struck him deeper than hearing his own tale recited like a myth.

The tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise.

Revan had spoken it with a hint of mockery, yet the words were truthful, and had cut all the same. A story of Sith secrecy, and Palpatine’s theatrics, it was a heavy reminder towards the true nature of his order. Plagueis had listened in silence, concealing the tension in his heart as the stranger described his death…and what followed. Once upon a time, he had viewed Palpatine as his greatest experiment. A mastercrafted tool capable in both the realm of politics, and the Force, he would be the perfect executor of his will. Once the government was under their grasp, Plagueis had even fancied extending his apprentice's life-if only to ease burden of leadership-yet during their celebration, he had been betrayed. 

How embarrassing. 

To have this information revealed by one of the most influential figures in galactic history was especially damning. Furthermore, it was revealed to him as soon as he awoke, that he was in fact, a clone. 

This alone was not cause for concern, as cloning had been one of his many fascinations in life. And yet…this rebirth was not the result of some fall back plan, or grand scheme. Instead, his notes had been pilfered, and used by an old colleague. This was no triumphant domination of death, but a return engineered by hands unknown, using imperfect science from a bygone age. 

And yet…there was no dread. Only fascination. Staring at an open palm, he slowly opened, and closed his hand. Amusement briefly spread across his lips from the simple act. Life was a miracle, one he was pleased to experience once again. 

He could only thank Revan for this boon. The Blackwing Virus-an abominable creation of ancient biowarfare-had stabilized his molecular structure. Without it, he might have decayed like the many failed clones of Force-sensitives before him. But the virus, in its horrific, necrotizing efficiency, had somehow rendered his flesh cohesive. The only flaw was his mind. Lost in a pit of despair, his psyche had constantly been at war, attempting to wrest control of his body, only to fail again and again. It wasn’t until the burning purity of the Lightside had scourged the disease from his system, that the Muun had regained his clarity. 

The experience was grotesque, miraculous, and above all else, endlessly intriguing. His scientific mind had already derived several inspirations for new experiments. Plagueis could not only thank Revan for the renewal of life, but for the countless possibilities that had been unlocked due to the queer method of ‘healing.’

It was a shame the Marakami orchids were so rare. Elsewise, he was tempted to cultivate them once again. Those elusive blossoms-central to the original strands of the virus-were nearly extinct. He had once viewed biological weapons as crude, beneath the elegance of the Force. But to see what they had done to him…what they had proven possible…

Shaking his head, he let out a turbid breath, and calmed his rapidly pacing heart. Ultimately, the Blackwing Virus was too deadly, even for him, but that would not deter his pioneering spirit! It only galvanized him onward, to think up new, creative methods to manipulate the Force. 

‘Life itself is clay. I have shaped it before. I will shape it again.’ Plagueis thought to himself. 

The zombification that Blackwing wrought-its ability to reanimate, stabilize, and empower-had shown him something no Sith holocron ever had: that the creation of a Force-sensitive being was not a legend bound to Marka Ragnos or the alchemists of Korriban. It was a science that could be replicated. An equation worth studying. A boundary waiting to be dissolved, nay, surpassed! 

If Ragnos could craft armies of alchemized warriors, and creatures beyond mortal ken…

If the Rakata could build an empire upon engineered species, even crafting several well known species that roamed the stars to this day…

Then he, Darth Plagueis the Wise, could do far more.

The gentle thrum of the shuttle deepened as it transitioned toward realspace. Plagueis closed his eyes, and for the first time in many years, he allowed himself the pleasure of unrestrained ambition.

The Rule of Two had served its purpose. It was a bygone institution that sought to overthrow the Jedi, and create the ultimate Sith. His student did not follow that core principle, and instead of murdering him with the Force-like a true Sith-he had resorted to poison. Whilst he was not so closed minded that he couldn't ignore tradition, it chaffed at his ego that someone he viewed as little more than an experiment would strike at him when he intended to share power. In his mind, betrayal was unnecessary, yet young Palpatine had always been a greedy one. 

Plagueis was not beholden to the ghosts of the past, nor would he limit himself now that the plan of a thousand years had failed just as it had begun. The events of today were little different then all other previous Sith vs Jedi conflicts. Palpatine had failed, and in his desperation, had linked himself to a Darkside Nexus. So long as he remained on that decrepit planet of trillions of lifeforms, he would be fueled by their emotions…but the moment he left, it would be like a spice addict suddenly losing their fix, cut off from the source of their addiction. 

Plagueis could only cluck his tongue in disappointment. Ever since he had accidentally created an artificial Darkside Nexus after a series of experiments, his capricious apprentice had shown both reverence and fear. 

‘He believes himself invincible so long as he doesn't step foot off Coruscant. How naive.’ 

The Rule of Two was over, and Plagueis’s ambitions had only just begun. Why have two Sith…when one could have thousands?

“No more acolytes, no more apprentices, but a grand experiment of my design.” Plagueis whispered to himself as his thoughts took shape. 

A new strain of humanity came to his mind as countless genomes reorganized themselves in his psyche. The Force hummed all around him as he slowly unwound a basic universal truth. 

From his analysis, and active thoughts, a piece of the puzzle had become unlocked. He had seen the truth. 

Under his guidance, a new race of near-humans would come into existence, and recognize him as the Creator. 

He saw it clearly now, a civilization that would eclipse the Rakatan Infinite Empire. Teaching them the importance of science, and study, they would move past the petty politics of past eras, and replace the non-Force Sensitives as the dominant species! 

And he would stand at its apex, not merely a survivor of death, not merely the last Sith of an antiquated creed, but the architect of the galaxy’s next evolutionary leap.

His lips parted in a quiet, triumphant smile as he imagined such a scenario. Fingers dancing across a nearby keyboard, he eagerly input data that would be used in this new eugenics program. 

Revan had awoken more than the memories of a dead Munn on that fateful day. The masked man had aroused the spirit of a scholar bent on unmasking the fabric of the universe. For decades, he had been obsessed with the Revenge of the Sith. Now that he had been unchained, there would be nothing that stood in his way from achieving the truth! 

And the galaxy would tremble as he broke it open, and sucked upon its yoke. 

The shuttle’s consoles reflected dimly in his eyes as hyperspace streaks disappeared into real space, revealing a planet down below. 

A meeting with Revan, with Sidious, and all the Sith that remained would come. That much he knew, it felt inevitable, as though the Force itself were drawing the tides of both new & old toward one another. He sensed a vergence in the Force was not far off. 

Whether they would meet as adversaries or as something far more consequential…that remained shrouded in mystery, and was beyond his perception. How exciting! 

Plagueis allowed himself a thin, eager smile at the coming future. 

Time would decide the shape of their war or their alliance.

Opening up his communicator in a good mood, he waited a few moments before the call went through. 

“Godfather…I thought you-”

“The rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated. Now, now, San, do tell me, what have you been up to?” 

San Hill, leader of the InterGalactic Banking Clan placed a hand on his chest, and bowed in supplication, then began to answer Plagueis’s every question. 

The Sith Lord could only grin after hearing the report. 

“Very good, maintain the status quo with Revan.”

“Yes, Godfather. I was hoping you would say that. His economic insights are most…logical.” San inclined his head. 

“No matter. Before you go, I have one more request. Send the most intelligent, and loyal life forms on our planet to my lab. I have a surprise for you.” Plagueis thinly smiled before cutting the call. 

Before creating his own race, he would require experimental subjects. What better group to transform into Dark Adepts than those he was most familiar with? 

Looking out at the endless stars, Plagueis grinned. His infinite life was full of endless possibilities. 

~~~~~~~

AN: 2 more Interludes, and we're back to Corvus POV.