"I don't have time to find anyone else. You were in the right place at the right time," she insisted. "You got lucky"
"That's not true, Zannah. How do you think I recognized you after all these years? There's a bond between us. There always has been. Ever since we were little."
Zannah didn't say anything, but merely shifted in her seat.
"Do you remember when we were kids? Everyone thought I was so strong in the Force, and nobody believed you had any power at all."
She didn't answer, but she did remember. As children Darovit was the one who could levitate objects, and bat away fruit tossed into the air with a stick while blindfolded. Her own powers hadn't manifested until she found herself alone on Ruusan.
"I didn't realize it then, Zannah, but the power I showed, all those tricks I did-that wasn't me, it was you! Even as kids you knew how badly I wanted to be a Jedi, and you wanted to help me. So you channeled your own power through me, allowing me to do all those things."
"That's not how I remember it," she said coldly.
"You didn't do it on purpose," Darovit explained. "The bond we shared was so strong, and you cared about me so much, that your subconscious took over."
"That's the stupidest theory I've ever heard." Zannah snorted, still staring straight ahead.
"Is it? Think about it, Zannah. After we lost you on Ruusan, it was like my powers disappeared. That's why I failed as a Jedi and as a Sith.
"My power is weak. That's why I survived the thought bomb when all the Sith and Jedi around me were destroyed by its power. It only affected those with a strong affinity for the Force.
"And what about you? You have so much power. Why do you think it took so long to show itself? You were always channeling it through me." He paused. "You won't become the Dark Lord of the Sith, Zannah," he added. "It's just not in your nature. Sooner or later you'll realize that."
"Shut up," she said flatly, still keeping her eyes riveted on the controls in front of her. "If you say one more word I'll take your other hand."
Darovti didn't reply, but his fingers instinctively went to his stump.
"I brought you along for one reason, and one reason only" she continued, her voice still completely devoid of emotion. "My Master is infested with parasites called orbalisks. And you are going to heal him."
"But… I don't know how" Darovit protested, forgetting her warnings to remain silent.
Zannah reached back with the Force, wrapping it around his windpipe. And slowly she began to squeeze. Darovit fell to his knees, his hands flying up to his throat as his oxygen was cut off.
"There is a data terminal in the back," Zannah said, ignoring his choking coughs. "Use it to go over everything in the article I took from the Archives."
She pulled the card from the pocket on her thigh and tossed it down in front of her suffocating cousin. He was rolling back and forth on the floor now, his hands clawing at his throat. His face had turned a bright red, and his eyes were starting to bulge from his sockets.
"If you can't find a way to help my Master by the time we get to Tython " she warned, "he will kill you."
She released Darovit from the Force choke, and he gasped and gulped down air in raw, ragged breaths. She turned to watch him with a cruel smile on her lips, making sure he knew she was enjoying his suffering. Eventually he recovered enough to pick up the datacard and head for the terminal in the back.
Once he was gone, Zannah got up from her chair and began to pace back and forth between the pilot's and copilot's seats. She knew Darovit was wrong. He had to be. She was confident in her commitment to the dark side, despite everything her cousin had said. But there was enough weight to some of his arguments to make her wonder what Bane would think about all this.
If her Master-like Darovit-believed her actions showed a lack of commitment to the ways of the Sith, things would go very badly for her when they reached Tython.
Belia Darzu had been a Shi'ido in life, a changeling species whose members were capable of shifting their appearance, so it was not surprising that the projection that served as the gatekeeper of her Holocron similarly changed forms. At various times she appeared to be Twi'lek, Iridonian, Cerean, or human, occasionally even switching between genders.
"The process of creating a Holocron cannot be rushed " the gatekeeper explained. "The adjustments to the matrix must be made with precision and care."
She was currently in the form she most often assumed: that of a tall human female with short brown hair. She appeared to be roughly thirty years of age, with a sly, almost crafty, look to her features. In this guise she was typically clad in a dark, formfitting flight suit, dark boots, and a pale yellow vest that left her arms bare. She also wore yellow gloves, a short black sleeve over each elbow, and a red flight cap and belt.
After his initial activation of the Holocron's power, Bane had brought it up out of the inner sanctum and into a large common room on the main level that once served as a mess hall for Belia's living followers. Here Bane had been exploring the Holocron off and on for the past several days. He had proceeded carefully, still drained from his battle with the technobeasts. The slow pace allowed him to recuperate his energies and rebuild his strength as he probed the crystal archives.
Much of what he discovered focused on the rituals and practices of Sith alchemy-something he would explore in depth when he had more time. Other times he stumbled across Belia's own philosophical examinations of the Force, though in truth there was little there that Bane hadn't already discovered for himself. Only now had he finally found what he had truly been searching for.
"It can take weeks, or even months" Belia's image explained, "before the final stages of construction are completed."
Her form flickered, to be replaced by the image of a Holocron shown in cutaway. The filaments and strands of the crystal matrix in the image began to shift and move, illustrating the adjustments the gatekeeper was talking about. Bane didn't bother paying close attention; he already knew how to fine-tune the matrix's internal structures.
"You said the adjustments can take months. How is that possible?" Bane asked with a shake of his head. "The cognitive network degrades too quickly."
Belia's image flickered into view again. "The cognitive network must be trapped within the capstone before you begin," she explained.
"Capstone?" Bane asked, his nerves tingling with excitement. In all his research he had never heard mention of a capstone before.
An image of a Holocron appeared once more, though no longer in cutaway. The small black crystal built into the apex of the pyramid was flashing.
"The capstone is key to the process," Belia's voice said. "Without it the cognitive network will degrade before you complete your adjustments, and you will fail every time."
Bane stared in wonder at the image. He had known that the dark crystal was an essential part of the Holocron's construction. Yet he had believed its sole purpose was to channel the power of the symbols etched across the sides of the pyramid into the matrix. He never imagined it would serve another function as well.
"How do I trap the cognitive network inside the capstone?" he asked, eager to learn the secret that had eluded him.
"You must invoke the Rite of Commencement," Belia told him.
The projection shifted to show an incredibly elaborate and complicated Sith ritual, one that went beyond anything Bane had mastered so far. With subtle pushes from the Force he flipped through image after image after image, realizing it would take him many months of careful study to memorize the rite. Still… the secret was his!
Satisfied, he shut the Holocron down. It was time to leave Tython and return to Ambria. If all had gone well, his apprentice would be there waiting for him.
He made his way outside, where the Mystic waited. But as he prepared to board his ship, he saw another vessel in the distance racing toward him. He reached out with the Force, and felt the presence of Zannah inside… and one other.