Drew Karpyshyn - Darth Bane 3 - Dinasty of Evil

Bane's own mood had changed as well. He was no longer driven by an unquenchable desire for bloody vengeance. In the Stone Prison he had needed to draw strength from his anger to survive and defeat his enemies. Here, however, he was in no danger. Afforded the luxury of careful consideration, he had realized that there was no need to kill her:not if he could make use of her skills.

They stood face-to-face, staring at each other, neither speaking. In the end, it was Serra who broke the silence.

"Did you see the grave when you landed? I buried Lucia there last night."

When Bane didn't respond, she slowly reached up and wiped a single tear away from her eye before continuing.

"She saved your life. Don't you even care that she's dead?"

"The dead have no value to the living," he told her.

"She was your friend."

"Whatever she was is gone. Now she is nothing but decaying flesh and bone."

"She didn't deserve this. Her death was:pointless."

"Your father's death was pointless," Bane said. "He had a valuable skill; twice he saved my life when no other could have healed me. Had it been my choice I would have left him alive in case I ever needed his services a third time."

"He would have never helped you by choice," Serra countered. There was no anger in her voice, though her words had the steely ring of truth.

"But he did help me," Bane reminded her. "He was useful. I could have a use for you as well, if you share his talent."

"My father taught me everything he knew," she admitted. "But, like him, I will never help a monster like you."

She turned to address the Iktotchi standing silently by Bane's side.

"If you follow this man he will destroy you," she warned. "I've seen the rewards given to those who walk the path of the dark side."

"The dark side will give me power," the Huntress replied confidently. "It will guide me to my destiny."

"Only a fool believes that," the princess replied. "Look at me. I gave in to my hate. I let it consume me. My desire for revenge cost me everything and everyone I care about."

"The dark side will devour those who lack the power to control it," Bane agreed. "It's a fierce storm of emotion that annihilates anything in its path. It lays waste to the weak and unworthy.

"But those who are strong," he added, "can ride the storm winds to unfathomable heights. They can unlock their true potential; they can sever the chains that bind them; they can dominate the world around them. Only those with the power to control the dark side can ever truly be free."

"No," Serra replied, gently shaking her head. "I don't believe that. The dark side is evil. You are evil. And I will never serve you."

There was a quiet defiance in her words, and Bane sensed nothing he could say or do would ever persuade her. For a brief moment he considered attempting the ritual of essence transfer, then quickly dismissed the idea. The ritual would consume his physical form, and if he failed to possess her body his spirit would be trapped forever in the void. Her will was as strong as her father's, and he didn't know if he was powerful enough to overcome it.

He didn't need to do this now. He still had several years before his current body failed completely. It was better to wait and try to find a technician to create a clone body. That, or find someone younger and more innocent.

"She is of no use to us, Master," the Iktotchi noted, an eager gleam in her eye. "May I kill her for you?"

He nodded, and the Huntress stepped forward, advancing slowly on the other woman. Bane sensed the assassin liked to savor the kill, reveling in the fear and pain of her victims. But Serra made no move to defend herself. She didn't try to run, or beg for mercy. Instead, she stood perfectly still, willing to meet her fate with mute acceptance.

Recognizing she would get no satisfaction from Caleb's daughter, the assassin ended Serra's life.

Zannah's fingers hesitated over the Victory's nav panel as she pondered her next destination. Ever since escaping the Stone Prison, she had kept the shuttle in a low-level orbit around Doan.

She didn't want to go back to Ciutric. Bane was still alive and she needed to find him, but she didn't think he'd be returning to their home anytime soon.

For a time she had considered heading to Set's estate on Nar Shaddaa. If he was dead, he certainly couldn't object if she used his place as a temporary base while she set out to hunt down her Master. And if he happened to be there when she arrived-if he had somehow escaped the dungeon's collapse-then Zannah had plenty of questions for him.

However, the more she thought about confronting the man she had chosen as her apprentice, the less the idea appealed to her. Looking back, it was clear to her that Set had been a mistake. Overeager to assume the role of Dark Lord, she had convinced herself that he was an acceptable choice. Desperate to find an apprentice of her own, she had ignored his obvious flaws.

Set was a dangerous man-one she suspected she might have to deal with later on if she discovered he was still alive-but he wasn't fit to be a Sith. His affinity for the Force was strong, and he willingly embraced many of the dark side's more self-serving aspects. But he lacked discipline. He was consumed by worldly wants and desires that clouded his greater vision. Worst of all, he clearly lacked ambition.

Zannah had lured him into her service with a combination of threats to his life and promises of power. But she had been deceiving herself as much as Set. It was obvious he had no real desire to rule the galaxy. He was content with his lot in life, and was unwilling to make the sacrifices necessary to turn himself into something more. And for some reason, she had been unable to see it. Maybe she was afraid to look. Maybe Set reminded her too much of herself.

The words Bane had thrown at her when she accused him of violating the Rule of Two still rang in her mind.

I waited years for you to challenge me. But you were content to toil in my shadow.

Was he right? Was it possible that on some level she was afraid of taking on the responsibility of Sith Master? No. She had tried to kill him.

Tried and failed, even though Bane didn't have his lightsaber. Was it possible she hadn't really been trying to beat him? Had some small part of her subconscious mind held her back just enough so that Bane could survive until he saw his chance to escape?

No. That's what he wants me to think.

Bane's words had been a ploy. He was trying to undermine her confidence, looking for any edge that would let him survive. But he was wrong. Zannah had truly wanted to kill him in the halls of the dungeon. And yet somehow he still managed to live.

Zannah was forced to admit that there was another, even more disturbing, possibility. Was Bane simply stronger than her? If she couldn't defeat him when he was unarmed, what chance would she have once he reclaimed his lightsaber?

No. That didn't make sense, either. Bane may have escaped with his life, but her Master did not win that battle. Her lightsaber had given her a huge advantage; it had forced Bane to be on the defensive. So why hadn't she been able to finish him?

She had obviously made a tactical error. But what was it?

The question gnawed at her as she sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, the nav computer still awaiting its next destination. She bit down on her lip, concentrating. The answer was there; she just had to figure it out.

In her mind she replayed the scenario, analyzing it over and over again. She had been patient, careful. Because of this her Master had been able to keep her at bay despite her advantage. But if she had been more aggressive during the duel, she would have opened herself up to a potentially lethal counterattack.