Epilogue

  <span>_Autarch's Fist_  
    Wild Space   
    Parthovian Cluster  

</span>
<span>He had finished explaining it to them.
</span>
<span>That they had come was nearly enough, but he had wanted
to see their fear, or its absence, personally. Sarin looked at those seated
before him around the elongated oval table. There had been reluctance,
but they had come. All the Consuls listed to a degree in their chairs
showing the signs of fatigue and injury. This had cost them like nothing
before. The Clans had acclimated to internecine conflicts often proving
as bloodless as they were pointless. This had been a real fight; the first
for many.
</span>
<span>And they had lost. _
</span>
<span>The _Yuuzhan Vong, as they had come to be known,
had crushed them utterly. The mighty Clans of the Brotherhood had but
stained the treads of those who brokered power in its purest form. No
negotiations. No compromise. No peace, but that found at the end of a
sword. It was enough to make him believe they deserved extinction at the
hands of those who had the will to shape the galaxy to their ends.
</span>
<span>His own will had been tested many times. Sarin had
questioned his reign as Grand Master and whether that time would have
been better spent in solitary study of the Dark Side, rather than acting
as mediator between those too spoiled to deserve what they had and too
lazy to reach for more. He was amazed all of them had survived. But survival
was their specialty.
</span>
<span>Did they believe they served at the Grand Master's
leave, or were they stupid enough to think he served at theirs?
</span>
<span>Perhaps Cotelin was right about it having been a mistake
to add them to the Council. But each had arrayed a cadre of loyalists
and political constituents too often to which their power was owed. This
he would amend in time. He wasn't entirely without his own supporters.
The "now" was what concerned him. He would negotiate their cooperation
in the interim by any means necessary. Including the promise of new ships
to replace those they had lost to the Vong.
</span>
<span>How empty that promise would be would depend greatly
on their level of cooperation. The real power would remain in his grasp
at all times from now until the end of his reign. This was partially demonstrated
by the quartet of new, Nebula-class Star Destroyers-state-of-the-art ships
heavily modified by Verpine engineers-flanking them now. The vessels hung
in space outside the viewports full of quiet menace. Still more waited
on station though not fully operational. A show of force for the Consuls,
most of whose fleets lay in near ruin. That the Destroyers were manned
with skeleton crews would remain guarded until he had siphoned the personnel
he needed from the disorganization sure to riddle the Clans for months
to come.
</span>
<span>Sarin wouldn't fully tip his hand here at this table.
No, here he would placate and countenance until the swelling of their
pride abated. He could afford no more Anteis. But his position was not
unassailable. He had ships, yes-purchased with billions of credits embezzled
from the Hammer and brokered by the Star Chamber-but he needed crews.
He needed soldiers. Most of all, he needed their Jedi; that most precious
of resources. Droids would only take him so far. The truth on the first
day of the war was much the same as on the last.
</span>
<span>They needed each other.
</span>
<span>This they would see. If not, he would descend without
warning from the abyss of hyperspace with his fleet and glass each and
every world they called home. They would be in no position to stop him
anytime soon. Especially not with the battered relics they quaintly referred
to as "warships". Fear would keep them in line. Fear and the
promise of more power: tools as old as the first stone knife, but as complex
to wield as the lightsaber.
</span>
<span>Things had changed, but the Brotherhood would go on.
It had no choice. For the war was not actually over. They would need to
quickly adapt their thinking and realize that what had transpired over
the last week was not a war, but a battle. And a minor one at that.
The war was out there, raging just past the stars he could see
twinkling through the transparisteel. To the enemy, this had been nothing
but another victory with a few insignificant losses. To Sarin and the
Brotherhood, it had nearly ended their way of life.
</span>
<span>He had scarcely scratched the surface of the mounting
reports coming in from all Brotherhood assets. Ships lost, facilities
destroyed, thousands dead, wounded or missing, his own Deputy Grand Master
in critical condition; it was staggering. They had literally brought a
stun baton to a blaster fight. Sarin still needed time to consider his
own encounter with the enemy and apply the lessons learned there. There
was more to accomplish now than there had ever been before.
</span>
<span>Bloodfyre was the first to speak.
</span>
<span>"Lord Sarin, how is Muz?"
</span>
<span>This surprised Sarin. Was he that transparent? Did
the Shaevalian wish to know out of genuine concern, or was this simply
another surreptitious ploy to gauge the Dark Council's current strength?
And what of Muz and his experience onboard the alien vessel? When recovered,
Sarin desperately needed to know what else he could tell the Brotherhood
about its enemy. As well as the apparent confederate, Volngah, whose whereabouts
were unknown. All Muz had managed to convey was that it was the Priest
who had helped him escape.
</span>
<span>This and more swirled through Sarin's mind but he
responded simply with, "Well."
</span>
<span>He could afford no weakness in front of them.
</span>
<span>"How does the rest of the Dark Council fare?" This
from the Plagueian. "I don't see many of them here."
</span>
<span>More probing for weaknesses. Sarin considered shedding
their blood here and now, but ever the tactician, said only, "Away. There
is much work to be done if we are to survive and one day retake Antei."

</span>
<span>"Retake it?" Macron blurted forgetting himself. "Why?"
The Sadowite saw no reason to risk his forces further and, though he dare
not voice it, he felt strongly that the Grand Master's absence during
nearly the entirety of the war had contributed significantly to the loss
of the system.
</span>
<span>Sarin's eyes flashed, but he let the insult pass.
He had been absent. Were he to have stayed though, even a Grand Master
and his flagship would have made little difference to the outcome. Against
such a foe, what was needed was time to discover their weaknesses, and
ships to exploit them. Now he had both. For a while.
</span>
<span>"Let me answer your question with one of my own: Who
fears us now, Macron?" Sarin stood meeting the eyes of all assembled.
Consuls, Councilors, and confidants alike, none had an answer. "Bloodfyre?
Anyone? The answer is no one. No one fears us and rightly so. We are not
the threat. Why will Antei be retaken? It will be retaken because if we
who call ourselves Dark Jedi cannot hold onto what is ours, then
all we hold to are false oaths," Sarin said, voice modulating unnaturally.
"And then our very existence would be a farce. We who so casually liken
ourselves to the Sith Lords of old."
</span>
<span>Silence.
</span>
<span>"But when we do retake it," Sarin said, "against an
enemy as powerful and ruthless as this, who then can deny our right to
deliver the Final Way? Who then would not fear us?" Few met his eyes.
"This is a trial, gentlemen. We will face it."
</span>
<span>Sarin sat down again observing them. Some he could
read clearly, some with more difficulty. But all understood. He asked,
"Are there more concerns then?" He knew there would be none...for
now. "Another time then. You will find instructions waiting for you when
you return to your ships. Do not fail me, gentlemen."
</span>
<span>They wouldn't.
</span>
<span>Of this, there was no doubt.
</span>
# END