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Authors: Drew Karpyshyn
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expensive, personal interplanetary transport shuttle available on the open market. Everything about their life here on Ciutric—the mansion, their clothes, even their social calendar—was a part of their disguise. They surrounded themselves with luxury and material comforts; a far cry from the austere life they had lead during their years on Ambria.
There were times when Zannah missed the simplicity of those early days. Life on Ambria had been hard, but it had kept her strong. And she couldn’t help but wonder if the lavish lifestyle here on Ciutric had made her—and Bane—soft.
The Victory ’s engines roared to life, and the shuttle rose up a few meters off the ground. Zannah piloted by instinct while her mind continued its train of thought.
Life was a constant struggle; the strong would survive and the weak would perish. That was the way of the universe, the natural order. It was the philosophy embraced by the Code of the Sith. But here on Ciutric it was easy to be lulled into a sense of peace.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken.
Zannah understood that chains were not always made of iron and durasteel; they could sometimes be woven of expensive shimmersilk. The easy life they enjoyed on Ciutric was a trap as dangerous as any the Jedi could ever set for them.
She had continued her study and training even after Bane had moved them into their magnificent estate outside the city. But the sense of urgency and the threat of danger that had spurred her on during her early years had faded, replaced by the ennui of security and contentment.
It was time to stake her claim as Dark Lord of the Sith. She would already have challenged him by now, if not for two things.
The first was the tremor she had noticed in his left hand several months ago. He tried to hide it from her, but she noticed it more and more. She didn’t know the cause of the tremor, but regardless, it was an obvious sign of his degenerating skills.
Perhaps too obvious. Bane was a master manipulator. Zannah couldn’t dismiss the idea that he was faking it. What if the tremor was just a ruse meant to lure her into the confrontation before she was truly ready—one final test to see if the apprentice had learned the lesson of patience he had worked so hard to ingrain into her?
I will strike at a time of my choosing , Zannah vowed to herself. Not his .
But in order to make her move, she had to be ready with an apprentice of her own. Two there should be; no more, no less. One to embody the power, the other to crave it . The Rule of Two was inviolate. If she was going to seize the mantle of Master from Bane, she would need to find an apprentice. So far, despite her best efforts, she had failed to locate even a single potential candidate.
Bane had recognized her own potential when, as ayoung girl, she had killed the Jedi who had mistakenly slain her friend. Now she was going to investigate the mysterious death of another Jedi. Might she find her successor the same way Bane had found her?
But if she was thinking along these lines, it was a sure bet that Bane had thought of it, too. He was rarely caught unprepared or off guard. So … why would Bane send her on a mission that could end with her finding the individual who might become the next Sith apprentice? Did her Master want her to challenge him? Was he trying to help her? Or was he looking to replace her? Maybe he had decided she was unworthy of assuming his title. Maybe he was hoping this mission would provide him with someone new to train in the ways of the dark side, and he planned to cast her aside.
If that’s true, Master, you might be surprised at how this ends. Underestimate me at your peril .
A beep from the nav screen notified her as the shuttle broke Ciutric’s atmosphere. A few seconds later she felt the unmistakable surge as the ship made the leap
There were times when Zannah missed the simplicity of those early days. Life on Ambria had been hard, but it had kept her strong. And she couldn’t help but wonder if the lavish lifestyle here on Ciutric had made her—and Bane—soft.
The Victory ’s engines roared to life, and the shuttle rose up a few meters off the ground. Zannah piloted by instinct while her mind continued its train of thought.
Life was a constant struggle; the strong would survive and the weak would perish. That was the way of the universe, the natural order. It was the philosophy embraced by the Code of the Sith. But here on Ciutric it was easy to be lulled into a sense of peace.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken.
Zannah understood that chains were not always made of iron and durasteel; they could sometimes be woven of expensive shimmersilk. The easy life they enjoyed on Ciutric was a trap as dangerous as any the Jedi could ever set for them.
She had continued her study and training even after Bane had moved them into their magnificent estate outside the city. But the sense of urgency and the threat of danger that had spurred her on during her early years had faded, replaced by the ennui of security and contentment.
It was time to stake her claim as Dark Lord of the Sith. She would already have challenged him by now, if not for two things.
The first was the tremor she had noticed in his left hand several months ago. He tried to hide it from her, but she noticed it more and more. She didn’t know the cause of the tremor, but regardless, it was an obvious sign of his degenerating skills.
Perhaps too obvious. Bane was a master manipulator. Zannah couldn’t dismiss the idea that he was faking it. What if the tremor was just a ruse meant to lure her into the confrontation before she was truly ready—one final test to see if the apprentice had learned the lesson of patience he had worked so hard to ingrain into her?
I will strike at a time of my choosing , Zannah vowed to herself. Not his .
But in order to make her move, she had to be ready with an apprentice of her own. Two there should be; no more, no less. One to embody the power, the other to crave it . The Rule of Two was inviolate. If she was going to seize the mantle of Master from Bane, she would need to find an apprentice. So far, despite her best efforts, she had failed to locate even a single potential candidate.
Bane had recognized her own potential when, as ayoung girl, she had killed the Jedi who had mistakenly slain her friend. Now she was going to investigate the mysterious death of another Jedi. Might she find her successor the same way Bane had found her?
But if she was thinking along these lines, it was a sure bet that Bane had thought of it, too. He was rarely caught unprepared or off guard. So … why would Bane send her on a mission that could end with her finding the individual who might become the next Sith apprentice? Did her Master want her to challenge him? Was he trying to help her? Or was he looking to replace her? Maybe he had decided she was unworthy of assuming his title. Maybe he was hoping this mission would provide him with someone new to train in the ways of the dark side, and he planned to cast her aside.
If that’s true, Master, you might be surprised at how this ends. Underestimate me at your peril .
A beep from the nav screen notified her as the shuttle broke Ciutric’s atmosphere. A few seconds later she felt the unmistakable surge as the ship made the leap
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