Джон Миллер: Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith: Pantheon

«…Nida, my daughter, you’re more than the onlygood thing to come from Seelah. You’re the future ofthe Sith on this planet. It wasn’t… our choice to livehere. But it is… our choice not to die here. That choice… will be made by you…»

Korsin slumped in his chair. The image froze.

«Is that all ?» Iliana said.

Hilts looked at her, unsurprised that she’d won the race to speak first. «That’s all.» He stepped to the recording device.

«It’s enough,» Korsin Bentado said reverently. «You’ve just heard a great leader say it. There can only be one power structure — the one he invented. The one my people will represent. No compromise.»

«You’re wrong» came another voice. Hilts saw it belonged to the leader of the Golden Destiny, a group obsessed with the stellar aspects of the Tribe’s origin. «I heard a great conqueror describe a powerful people. We didn’t even intend to come here — yet we subdued this world instantly. Every human in the galaxy likely has his own planetary kingdom! We must stop fighting, reopen the temple, and return to the stars!»

Hilts shook his head as the quarrels began anew. There were no lightsabers, yet; the leaders were too busy telling one another what they had just all heard. But it was only a matter of time. He absently fiddled with the recorder. He’d gotten it started more easily this time, but for some reason it wasn’t deactivating properly.

Static appeared — and then something else. Fleeting images, interlaced with the scene of the expired Grand Lord.

«There’s something here,» Hilts said, adjusting the device. «Underneath.»

A palimpsest. He’d heard Keshiri artists speak of the concept. Occasionally, a second work was painted over an earlier version, using the same canvas. The concept had no meaning in sculpture — and wasn’t the projected image a living sculpture? But still, something was there. Maybe when Korsin used the device to record his mes- sage, there had already been another one on it!

He rattled the few controls he understood again…

…and a monster appeared.

«This is your liege, Naga Sadow, speaking to the captain Yaru Korsin!»

The leaders turned instantly from their arguments on hearing the gravelly voice. It belonged to some- thing not entirely human, clad in the robes of a Sith ruler. Sadow’s face had a reddish cast, terminating in two pointed tentacles that writhed when he spoke. Veins bulged from his bald cranium like mountain ranges.

And as he spoke, he gestured with hands — such hands! — tipped with talons an uvak might have.

Neera of Force 57 spoke first. «What — is that thing ?»

«Alongside Saes and the Harbinger, you are decreedto deliver the mining team belonging to your sibling, Devore, to Phaegon. You will obtain Lignan crystalsfor my cause and return to Kirrek.»

Hilts had to rub his eyes. The language was theirs, if heavily accented. But what was speaking it? Aside from the Keshiri, there was no record of there being any other sentient species in the universe.

And certainly not one that gave orders to humans.

«For this mission, I dispatch to you one you have worked with before, Ravilan Wroth, and his Massassiwarriors.»

The image changed — and if the visage of Naga Sadow startled the viewers, the appearance of the one called Ravilan and his escort evoked audible gasps. His skin fully crimson, Ravilan looked even less human than Sadow, with protruding eyebrow stalks to go along with even longer facial tendrils. And the lumbering blood-colored monstrosities standing behind Ravilan were grotesque beyond description.

The image flickered, and Naga Sadow reappeared.

«I have sent for your brother, Devore, to informhim that you will be in charge. But remember that youare all subject to my law and whim. You may havemore freedom of action than other Sith allow their slaves— but the greatest thing your kind can aspire toiscompetence in my service. And that is what Idemand of you. Your work will create my glory. Beginyourpreparations. Succeed in my name. Fail me — anddie.»

The image vanished, leaving the atrium in near- darkness. Starlight filtered in through the broken windows above.

Finally, Iliana spoke. «What was that ?»

«A message,» Hilts said, cautiously fingering the device. «An earlier message. I think that Korsin recorded over it — that we weren’t supposed to see it.» The gad- get had been testy in recent activations. Maybe it had finally failed to do what Korsin intended. He exhaled and looked up to the skylights. «I think that was, as he said, Naga Sadow.»

The crowd erupted in disbelief, voiced loudest by Korsin Bentado. «Naga Sadow is just a name from folktales—‘Korsin’s celestial ally.’ That — that thing acted like it owned the Omen. And the crew!»

«They weren’t conquerors,» Iliana said acidly. «They were diggers in the dirt. And the great Yaru Korsin was just a delivery boy!»

The gruesome outcasts of Force 57 seemed the most horrified of all, having seen the true face of Ravilan and his outcasts. «This — this is not Sith,» Neera said, almost in a whisper. «This is madness. »

Hilts was speechless. All the little mysteries from their history and all the redacted sections of texts suddenly made sense, if this could be called sense. Yaru Korsin and the entire founding pantheon had been slaves — to that thing ?

«No wonder Seelah Korsin wanted us all to be pure specimens,» Iliana said, standing before the others. «She was sanctifying the race.»

Korsin Bentada was pacing. «No, it can’t be. It can’t be.» He glared at Hilts. «You! Caretaker! The Sisters got to you earlier. Did you tamper with that?»

«I wouldn’t know where to begin,» Hilts said. He lifted the projector from the floor and placed it back on its pedestal.

«Then. what does this mean?»

«It means we’re not just the Tribe,» Hilts said. «We’re a Lost Tribe.» He nearly spat the adjective. It was nothing to be proud of. «We’re missing. We didn’t come on our own; we were sent, and not sent here. But once we crashed, Korsin stayed — because he didn’t want to go back and face that. »

The murmurs grew louder. Who would blame Korsin? But that made them all something terrible indeed.

Runaway slaves.

In a flash, Iliana ignited her lightsaber and lunged. Hilts stumbled, certain she was coming for him. Instead, her weapon found its home in the recording device, bisecting it and the pedestal it sat upon.

Hilts fumbled toward the sparking halves of the gad- get. «What did you do that for?»

«We can’t let anyone know,» Iliana said to the others, her voice grave. «They never wanted us to know. Seelah must have forbidden any records of what Ravilan’s people really were. It’s why Korsin recorded over the message. We have to keep this secret.»

Hilts looked up at her. «I don’t see how—»

«We can’t ever let the Keshiri know!» Korsin Bentado said, the stoic giant now Jaye’s equal for nervousness. «If they find out their Protectors could be ruled by creatures like that—»

«They won’t,» Neera hissed. «I’ll kill them all first.»

«That won’t be necessary,» Iliana said, grinding the fragments of the recorder with her boot. «It’s done.»

Hilts looked at the remains. It was.

It had gone predictably wrong. Twenty Sith couldn’t share a secret, not even for their own protection. Someone had told the tale. Perhaps one of the attendees, anguished and full of drink, had revealed all about the Lost Tribe’s origins. Certainly, many of the leaders’ comrades would have been anxious for news about what had transpired during the reading. And there, camped outside, were humans from all over Kesh, celebrating the Festival of Nida’s Rise. Humans with uvak, ready to fly and deliver the dire news.