Lord Callida is, as always, perfectly punctual.

"Shut the door behind you." Once Callida has done so, Occlus motions her to take a seat. "We are not here to discuss your training."

Callida sits, and raises her eyebrows slightly, in lieu of asking what they are going to be discussing.

Occlus brings up a holo of a familiar white landscape. "Ilum. A routine scan taken two years ago."

She switches the holo to one almost identical. "The same area, swept by one of our spysats a day ago." There's a small dark grey blotch at the base of one of the glaciers.

The small dark grey blotch gets studied, carefully.

"Interesting. If I'm recalling the location correctly, it was away from most of the fighting?"

"Yes. Here is a closer view."

The splotch leaps into focus. It seems to be some sort of archway, flanked by two tall alien statues, with high foreheads and protruding eyes that carry characteristic long spears.

"That," says Callida after a long pause, "is certainly worth investigation."

Anything Rakatan is worth their time. Even some things that pretend to be Rakatan are worth their time.

"I estimate by the depth of ice that it has been undisturbed for at least fifteen thousand years, possibly longer. A fortuitous combination of bombings must have set up a resonance that exposed the structure. We leave as soon as you are ready. Our cover is that you will be practicing the battle meditation trance in deep space, away from distractions."

"I can be ready within the hour. If anyone spots us on Ilum we can also say that since it was where I first practiced the technique, we thought it wise to revisit to train. But of course, let's not be spotted."

Occlus nods.

"Just so. Meet me at my ship."

Callida nods, and then leaves to make the necessary arrangements. The people that know about her newfound abilities are told the cover story, the people that do not get a much vaguer version of the cover story. This isn't particularly odd. She's a Sith, being vague about where she's doing is just how it works sometimes.

Within an hour, Callida is at Occlus's ship, ready to depart.

They take off without fuss, and the rest of the trip is similarly uneventful. One brief stop in the middle of nowhere to realign their course and throw off any pursuit. Occlus does have Callida run through some meditation exercises, so the time is not completely wasted.

They come out of hyperspace very close to the dark side of the planet, and drop like a rock through the atmosphere. They skim the surface until they reach the glacier with the hidden Rakatan ruin. Occlus sets them down at the foot of it. They drape a camo net over the ship, and commence their exploration.

This is indeed a very old place. The style of the inscriptions on the walls place its construction almost twenty thousand years ago, near the fall of the Rakatan Empire. Eventually, they come to a large open room, with a dais in the center. Occlus goes to investigate that, directing Callida to see if she can translate some of the glyphs along the wall.

Callida has had a dizzying number of lessons in languages, many of them dead. The Rakatan language was one of those that she had to learn through self study in Occlus's archives; while her translator droid is certainly loyal, spreading the language more than necessary might cause problems. And anyone can copy a droid's memory banks.

But even Occlus's archives are incomplete when it comes to the Rakatan language. Callida can only translate so much. Still, maybe what she can discern can shed some light on the structure. 'Falling,' and 'great struggle,' could imply a number of things, especially with the fall of the Infinite Empire imminent. 'Inspiration' and 'fate,' are trickier, but 'transcendence' is - well, it implies something, certainly. Callida isn't sure of what. It likely means that the place is quite a find, possibly on the scale of the sentient Rakatan machine hidden on Belsavis.

When she's translated all of the glyphs she can recognize, she updates Occlus on her findings. Is the dais just as interesting?

More so, if anything. Occlus is staring at what lays atop it, a carved stone loop, in the shape of a snake biting its own tail. There is a palpable sense of energy emanating from it.

"This must be Ourobouros."

"I'm not familiar with the term," says Callida, eyeing the dais warily. "Are there any dangers I need to be mindful of?"

"Ourobouros, or the Snake of Time, is commonly understood to be a semi-rare mythological template among primitive, pre-spaceflight cultures across the galaxy. There are- hints, that this spread was due to Rakatan influence. Some desparate, last-ditch effort to regain their Force sensitivity, in a similar vein to the Mother Machine. The time period matches, the writings are suggestive..."

"They are. Transcendence and time are interesting together. Perhaps something to assist premonition?"

"Mmm, potentially, but I'm not sure that quite fits. The Rakata were a proactive species, their creations all do something in their own right. And this does not match that pattern."

"Hm, no." She considers some kind of Force-based cryo-stasis, but that seems incorrect, too. It's too simple for the Rakata, for one. They were very much the sort of people that thought that every problem needed to be very thoroughly solved with Force-based technology. Something that just preserved people is too small-scale. For another, the structure is built wrong for it. This isn't a place for storage. Something clearly happens on that dais.

She considers approaching, because she is very curious, but quite frankly she'd like to leave it to the Dark Councilor with half a dozen ghosts to toss at nasty things if it turns out to be murderous. Besides, Occlus is more educated on the subject than she is. If her master would like her to approach first, she will, but she's not going to wander closer of her own volition just yet. It's Rakatan. She is perfectly justified in her caution.

Occlus circles the dais, scanning it.

"I don't see any traps. I am going to lift it off so we can get a closer look. Stand ready."

Callida nods, drawing up her defenses in the Force for - well, she doesn't really know. But she has them if she needs them, and if it is the sort of artifact that would like to turn her mind to jelly, she will resist being liquefied.

Occlus flares purple as she gestures, and the circular snake rises off its resting place. She holds it a meter and a half away for a few seconds, rotating it in the air. It does not object to this treatment, and there are no distant rumbles of ancient and lethal machinery engaging. She brings it closer and reaches out to brush it with a finger.

There is an oddly... resonant sensation through the Force.

Carefully, Callida takes a measured step closer, more towards Occlus's side than towards the dais. Resonant in what sort of way?

Resonant in a way that decreases when Callida gets closer to Occlus, apparently.

"...Odd."

"Very," agrees her apprentice, warily. "Something for only one Force-user? Or does the resonance dissipate if we physically touch?"

"Let's test it."

Occlus holds out her hand to Callida.

Callida takes it, of course.

And the resonance diminishes, but does not fully disappear.

Occlus reaches out to touch the carving with her other hand-

-and everything goes dead still for two instants.

And then everything becomes searingly, painfully, LOUD. A dizzying whirl of colors blur past their eyes, flashes of starfields, a crazed artist's imaginative interpretation of a hyperspace jump gone horrifyingly wrong-

And then the room is still again. But it's not the same room.

Becoming a Sith Lord involves gaining many things, and losing many more, but one of the things gained is a sense of composure under duress. Callida expresses her discomfort with a hiss, and nothing more.

"Occlus?" she asks, softly. Checking to make sure her master's all right. To her senses, she feels all right, but she'd like confirmation. Her use of her master's name the major indicator of worry.

"That was unexpected."

She looks around. They seem to be in some sort of trophy room, filled with all sorts of oddities, like that hand clutching a lightsaber in a jar over there. Before them is a display case containing the Ourobouros.

"The resonance is gone."

"Yes. ... Transportation of some kind?" she wonders, eyeing the display cased Ourobouros. "And the other end is broken?"

She peers at the hand clutching a lightsaber, and makes a subtle expression of distaste.

"Possibly..." Occlus suddenly looks up. "Company coming. At least one Force-user. Something feels... off about them."

"Unstable," agrees Callida slowly. "And is that a - hole in the Force?"

"Not the first impossible thing we will have encountered today. Let us investigate."

Occlus heads in the direction of the presences.

Callida follows, then pauses.

"This doesn't strike me as a jedi's sanctum. They'll likely recognize you, but maybe they wouldn't recognize me. Should I try for reconnaissance, to see what they do before they know a Dark Councilor stumbled upon their lair?"

"No. I want to meet whoever thought they could hide such an artifact from me."

"Fair."

Fairly soon, they come to some sort of entrance hall, through a door to the side. A wild-haired old man is gesticulating at a group of soldiers in what are almost but not quite Imperial uniforms, lead by a blue-skinned alien in a white admiral's uniform. The old man is in the middle of some sort of grand speech.

"-no mistake, Grand Admiral, this is my domain entirely. Your pets have leave to make their search, but they will-"

"Oh good," interrupts Occlus. "If this is your domain, then perhaps you might tell us where exactly it is."

The man spins around at the spund of her voice, madness in his eyes.

"You! Who are you! I will not tolerate intruders here!"

The red eyed man with blue skin makes a subtle hand gesture to the group of soldiers. They edge their way into a defensive line, alert and prepared for danger, but don't raise their blasters to aim at the 'intruders.'

He then watches the display, trying to gauge how he should react to best take control of the situation.

"Lord Callida," says she of the appropriate title, inclining her head, "and Darth Occlus." She gestures to her master. "Of the Dark Council."

There was his warning. Callida's curious how quickly he'll backtrack in a panic.

The man's features contort in a snarl.

"Sith." He spits the word. "Know that Joruus C'Baoth does not fear you!" He raises his hands and sends arcs of lightning crackling towards Callida.

Occlus almost smiles, at that.

Lightning. Of course the idiot would try lightning. All idiots try lightning. It's precisely why Callida figured out how to absorb it. Because she is so tired of people trying lightning.

Callida raises her own hand towards the lightning, and the blue sparking energy arcs towards and is collected in a glowing blue-white ball of energy floating in her palm. It's difficult, like taking in his anger and madness directly, but she's got excellent emotional control. Outbursts like this aren't particularly hard to absorb, really. Just sort of annoying. She waits until he's done with his blast, and then tilts her head slightly.

"Do you perhaps want to rethink that?" she wonders.

"Rrrargggh!"

It seems he doesn't. Here comes more.

Someone seems content to sit back and watch the show. From a safe distance, of course.

This might be rather funny, if it weren't so incredibly pathetic. She resumes catching his lightning, because no.

He's powerful, she'll give him that. Possibly more powerful than she is, even. Luckily, his petulant outburst is like a child's; directionless and unfocused. There is no discipline to give his power its spine, no attempt to forge his rage and power into a refined and deadly weapon. Just anger and energy, used clumsily as a bludgeon. And when it didn't work the first time, he tried the same thing again, but harder. It's sad.

Even so, she doesn't weather this second attack without a bit of a contest. He is, however clownishly, trying with all of his might to fry her. That's not nothing. She grits her teeth and narrows her eyes and ignores the stinging pain tracing its way up her arms and the rage she's absorbing into her soul along with his power. The rage is the troublesome part, really, she's used to pain by now. Rage might cause her to slip in her technique, and that is how she gets properly fried.

But she doesn't slip, and she doesn't let him win. She absorbs his lightning, trying not to let the rush of power go to her head, then lets out her breath in a hiss.

"Are you done?"

He seems to be angrier than ever. But he's also breathing hard, like he's just run a marathon.

"Impossible! I am a Jedi Master, you will not defeat me!" He draws himself up and takes a deep breath, clearly preparing to try something.

He doesn't get the chance, because instead he is picked up and slammed into a wall with a loud and echoing CRACK.

"And I'm a Sith apprentice, so don't you look the fool."

Interesting. The Grand Admiral notes the location of C'baoth's introduction to the wall. Away from him, and his men. How very thoughtful.

C'Baoth twitches when he hits. He is quite thoroughly pinned.

Judging her apprentice to have the crazy old fool well in hand, Occlus turn to the Chiss and his men. That is quite a high rank he has on his shoulder. Most atypical.

<Greetings,> she says in passably decent Cheunh. <How come you to be here?>

< Greetings, honored Sith, > replies Thrawn in the same tongue. < I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, and came in search of the means to restore the Empire's former glory. I could ask you the same question. >

<You could indeed.> "But let us continue in Basic, for the benefit of my apprentice. Grand Admiral is not a rank I was aware the Navy subscribed to. Nor are your men's uniforms quite standard."

"They follow Imperial regulations to the letter; I would ask nothing less. But as far as I knew, the last Sith died with the second Death Star. Perhaps we are working with different standards."

"If this 'Death Star' is the sort of idiotic superweapon it sounds to be, I expect so. None in my Empire would authorize the creation of such a thing."

Behind them, C'Baoth groans. He seems like he's waking up.

Thrawn doesn't comment, but a hint of a smile does touch his lips at 'idiotic superweapon.'

"No? And where was your Empire centralized? Who ruled it?"

Callida eyes her idiotic charge. She considers, weighs the likelihood that he'll have anything of import to contribute to the conversation, and then promptly begins choking him with the Force. Not to kill him, just to keep him quiet. His betters are talking.

"It was ruled by the Emperor, of course. Though the Dark Council handled most of the mundane business even prior to his assassination. The capital is Dromund Kaas."

C'Baoth gurgles. But quietly. He might be trying to say something.

"I'm afraid I don't recognize the name." He glances at C'baoth, a trace of amused.

Callida looks at C'baoth, then at Occlus, and raises an eyebrow. Hear what he has to say, or?

"Has the Ascendancy cut ties so thoroughly, then? Not that one can quite blame them."

Occlus shakes her head in response to her apprentice's unspoken query.

"I wouldn't know. How large is your Empire?"

Well, C'baoth doesn't get to talk then, does he. Just as well, he probably doesn't have anything important to say. She'll make sure she doesn't kill him or give him brain damage, but air is not a thing he's going to be well acquainted with right now.

"Large enough that you ought to have heard of it."

"Lord Callida, the 'fate' glyph you saw. How many turns was the spiral?"

"Four."

Of course, she's wondering where Occlus is going with this, but will let her explain.

"Four... and the trefoil edging, of course! How did I miss that? They were using the poetic register. The proper translation is not fate, but time."

"Ah," says Callida, not sounding at all thrilled by this revelation.

"Not a where, but a when? Intriguing."

"A hypertemporal wormhole, the stuff of spacers' legend. Not the first impossibility they would have actualized, but still." Occlus shakes her head. "They must have been trying to return to their heyday, to warn of the problem and gain more time to solve it, using the Ourobouros as an anchoring point. But it can only anchor for as long as it exists and so could send them only forwards..."

Callida has enough composure to keep C'Baoth right where he is, pinned to a wall and with a highly limited air supply, but also: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

"Then might I offer you and your apprentice a place in the modern Empire?"

"That would depend on what sort of place you had in mind."

"I believe the discussion on that subject would be best held in private. Would you be so kind as to accept an invitation to my ship?"

Callida takes a few seconds to pick up the cocktail of emotions running through her head at the thought of being stranded in the future, with everyone she's known - except Darth Occlus - long dead, and then shove it wholesale into her mental equivalent of a cargo hold. She will untangle that later. Right now, she can't afford to be distracted.

She looks Thrawn over cooly, and her eyes fall to the furry, snake-like creature attached to the backpack-like apparatus currently on Thrawn's back. It's - obviously not the sort of pet one would take with them on the go. Nor the sort of pet that one would take on any sort of mission that could involve combat. If it isn't completely helpless, it's not for a lack of trying, and it would absolutely be in the way in any sort of confrontation. Unless it did something very, very useful. She notes the edges of the Force void, and where it's centralized, and makes the obvious conclusion.

The Grand Admiral notes her gaze, smiling slightly.

"While there are other ysalamiri on my flagship, they are not so numerous as to make every section of it empty to the Force," says Thrawn, answering her question as she formulates it. "You would not be powerless aboard it."

Occlus files 'ysalamiri' away for future study.

"Is your shuttle similarly capacious? I trust you understand my hesitancy in this matter."

"Of course. If it is not capacious enough I can always send for a private one."

"Very well. We accept." Occlus turns to where Callida has C'Baoth pinned. "Kill him."

"No desire to hear whatever it is he's trying to say before it's lost forever?" asks Callida mildly, but she draws her lightsaber and turns to raise it.

"He doesn't seem the sort to say anything I'd want to hear."

"Absolutely deranged," she agrees. She can feel it emanating from him, like some twisted cancerous growth centralized in his very soul. There are many things that could cause this sort of situation; a nasty artifact, long time spent using darker Force powers, long hours spent in a Sith Lord's tomb. Perhaps someone could fix it, eventually, but while they were trying they'd be dealing with his very lightning-based outbursts, along with whatever else his warped mind would think to try. Callida's met many Sith of a similar like, and they're really not worth trying to salvage. "Just checking."

Then, quite neatly, she stabs him through the skull with her lightsaber. It's quick and clean, and as painless as she can make it.

He dies instantly.

And then cracks of eerie blue light begin radiating across his corpse.

"Oh, no you don't," mutters Occlus. "Apprentice, stand back."

She reaches out a hand, clutching, containing the energy that seeks to escape from C'Baoth. Her eyes flare ghostly purple.

Callida resists the urge to mutter some dark comment about the crazy ones always breaking things. It would be slightly unprofessional. Instead, she backs up, preparing to shield herself and Thrawn's men from whatever evil bullshit C'Baoth is going to give off, should Occlus slip. She won't, but Callida likes to be thorough.

So does the Grand Admiral, apparently.

"Group up," he snaps to his men. The bubble afforded by the ysalamir is large enough to protect them all, but only just.

Occlus focuses for about a minute, jaw tensing slightly, before snapping her fist closed. There is a bright flare, and C'Baoth's body collapses in on itself, leaving a shining light hanging in midair.

Occlus smiles. This one is hers, now. She flips her hand over and beckons the light inwards. As it merges with her body, she lets out a breath. Not the strongest spirit she possesses, but neither is it insignificant. Rather thoroughly insane as well. She will keep it down.

"At ease," says Thrawn softly to his men, studying the two Sith. The both of them are most interesting.

Purple sparks still flare around Occlus as she turns back to Thrawn, though they are slowly fading.

"Let us return to your flagship now."

"Indeed. One moment, allow me to see to the search of this base."

He splits the soldiers with him into two groups, one to accompany him while he returns to the shuttle, the other to resume searching the mountain. Then he calls in another shuttle from his ship with another team for the search, and presumably for the secondary shuttle for his two guests.

And then logistics are handled. The shuttle's large enough so that the anti-Force bubble caused by the ysalamir Thrawn carries with him doesn't entirely encompass it, but the Sith are free to take the second shuttle if they would prefer to avoid having their powers stifled in close quarters. The Grand Admiral leaves the decision to them.

They will take the ysalamir-free shuttle.

Excellent. That will give Thrawn time and privacy to inform his flagship, the Chimaera, of the change in plans, and to make preparations for the Sith that will be joining them. Oh, and to inform them of the death of Jedi Master C'baoth. He is not at all sorry about that one.

Lord Callida is quiet and pensive the whole way there.

Occlus will allow her apprentice time to gather her thoughts. She's always able to perform when called upon, and they understand each other well enough that they need not explicitly decide on a strategy for handling Thrawn.

These ysalamiri are worrisome. No natural sort of creature would create an area devoid of the Force. Some sort of alchemy? Most likely. Something similar to the resistance of the terentatek, but expanded. Understanding it fully will prove a challenge, no doubt. A pity she does not have another, more expendable apprentice. Perhaps one can be found. Though that depends on the state of the galaxy. The Chiss said that the "last Sith" had died. What that means Occlus is not quite sure, but she would very much like to find out.

Callida doesn't really have time to properly process all of her friends being dead, but she does have time to - well, get her priorities in order. The dead friends thing can wait. She needs her priorities working now.

Well, she's wary of joining anything without knowing exactly what it is and what that means, first. If there's any benefit to being flung into the far future, it's that for once in her life, she's - free. Free from the Empire, free from the other Sith, free from anyone knowing who she is and what she can do. Well, mostly. Occlus is here, but Occlus isn't actually a barrier to her freedom. Besides, she doesn't think she sincerely wants a freedom without Occlus being at least tangentially present in her life. The other Sith can keep their bizarre murder based relationships with their students and teachers, Callida will keep her slightly bizarre but surprisingly healthy relationship with her teacher, thanks.

What she's worried about is immediately getting tied up in some other war, working for some other Empire that's aggressively awful. Trapped by duty and fear and a lack of better options. She does not want to be a pawn in some admiral's game, not unless it's for a very good reason. She's in a whole new time, she'd like to - well, figure out how everything works before she commits to anything in particular. Give herself some space to untangle that whole dead friends thing. Learn about the galaxy before she starts messing with it and choosing sides in a war, otherwise she'll just make a wreck of it all.

Besides. She doesn't trust Grand Admiral Thrawn. Respect him, certainly. Trust him? Ha, no. But she'll see what he has to say, she supposes.

They are formally welcomed aboard the Chimaera by the Grand Admiral, the Grand Admiral's cuddly Ysalamir companion, a modest escort of stormtroopers, and a mustached man in a uniform that seems to identify him as the captain of this ship. Things are carefully arranged so that the Sith do not at any point have to enter the anti-Force bubble, but also that Thrawn does not have to leave it.

"Welcome aboard the Chimaera," says Thrawn, inclining his head to the both of them. "I trust you found no displeasure with the shuttle ride?"

"It was tolerable. I see shipbuilding technology has come some way in the time since last I was aboard a capital ship."

Occlus is very carefully outside the ysalamir bubble.

That is entirely her prerogative.

"I would be disappointed to find that technology did not advance at all while you were indisposed," says Thrawn, a trace of amused. "I can assign someone to reacquaint you with modern technological capabilities, if you'd like." If you join me, goes unsaid. It's so convenient to talk to people that are bright enough to pick up on subtext without any need to belabor the point.

"That would be helpful. But I must confess myself more immediately interested in a historical summary."

"I will see to acquiring one for you. For now," he motions to the mustached human next to him, "this is Captain Pellaeon, commander of my flagship. Also my second-in-command. Captain, this is the Sith Darth Occlus, and her apprentice, Lord Callida."

Lord Callida inclines her head, all thoughts of dead friends put aside. She has work to do.

Pellaeon sketches a bow. Sith. Just what he needed aboard his ship. As though Vader wasn't bad enough. He hopes the Admiral knows what he's doing, inviting these two aboard. They really don't have the manpower to sustain that sort of casualty rate.

"My lords. Staterooms have been prepared for you both. Do you have any, ah, special requirements we should be aware of?"

"I am sure the standard will do, Captain."

The Admiral certainly seems very sure of what he's doing, anyway.

"Excellent. How complete a history would you like? I can have an immediate history prepared in ten minutes, but something stretching to what you last remember would be somewhat... Difficult."

"The immediate will suffice. Enough to give context to our discussion of what place this Empire may have for us."

Grand Admiral Thrawn nods, then turns and quietly order a tech to get a set of datacards outlining recent history and bring them to conference room one.

"Imperial entries and our copies of the Rebels' entries," he adds, and the tech looks at him like he's grown a second head.

"Sir?" says the tech.

"There should be copies in the main databanks. They should be easy enough to find."

"... Yes, sir."

"Now," says Thrawn, turning back to Occlus and Callida. "If you would please follow me?"

Rebels, hmm? Interesting.

"Lead on, Admiral."

He leads the two Sith and the captain to what can only be assumed to be conference room one. There, he sets the ysalamir frame on the head chair, and sits, Pellaeon beside him. The conference room is large enough that all Sith can sit outside the bubble.

"Are there any refreshments you'd like before we begin? Caf, tea?"

Occlus takes a seat at the opposite end of the table.

"Not for me. Apprentice?"

"None for me, thank you," says Callida, sitting next to Occlus.

They look very much like two foreign powers discussing terms. She supposes they are.

"Very well. Now, would you like me to begin by recounting history, or describing what place you might have in the Empire's future?"

"It is my belief that one cannot predict the future until one understands the past."

"Well-founded," agrees Thrawn, smiling slightly.

"Thirty years ago," he begins, "the major governing body of the galaxy was the Galactic Republic. After a thousand years, it had grown to become a bloated nest of stagnation and inaction. Petty squabbles in committees would last months while planets suffered without aid, the inept bureaucracies meant to provide for them disastrously inefficient. Many of the systems part of the Republic grew tired of this treatment and attempted to secede, sparking a bloody conflict known colloquially as the Clone Wars that lasted three years. The war was a messy one - the separatists wanted a better system of Government, but were funded and soon led by unscrupulous business titans that wanted to be free from government oversight. The Republic was slow and inept, incapable of doing what needed to be done, but the only source of order that the galaxy had."

Pellaeon grimaces slightly when the Clone Wars are mentioned. He was serving as a junior officer aboard one of the Republic's few non-clone warships at the time. Messy is certainly one way you could describe that period.

Lord Callida's studying Thrawn with a measured intensity. She doesn't have the Force to figure out if he's lying or twisting the truth, she has to rely on perfectly ordinary observation.

"The Republic won, but it was clear that the Republic needed reformation if it was to continue. The Republic became an empire, led and ruled by its Supreme Chancellor. Reformations occurred, the government centralized and organized and became capable of actually enacting policy. Many found this disagreeable, and rebelled. The Rebel forces destroyed the first Death Star at Yavin in a nauseating display of luck, and then at Endor, the second. The Emperor and Darth Vader with it. In the past five years, the Empire suffered a loss of territory and morale in the wake of the military disaster. I aspire," says Thrawn, eyes glittering, "to change that."

"A neat summary. I trust the information on the datapads will be more comprehensive?"

"Of course."

He glances at Callida, and raises his eyebrows slightly. It appears the apprentice has something to say.

"You said the first Death Star's destruction was luck. What was the second's?"

"Ah, that leads into why I invited you here. The Emperor and Darth Vader were Sith. The Death Star was an attempt to centralize the military further, to ensure that all of the Empire's forces and power were all together, in one place." He smiles, again. "I wonder if you could guess why."

Callida's eyes narrow, slightly. She has an idea, but saying it out loud might stray too close to talking about a subject that Occlus might prefer Thrawn didn't know about. For that matter, Callida might prefer Thrawn didn't know about. She's not sure yet. She doesn't think she knows enough about this mysterious Chiss admiral.

"Several possibilities occur to me. Some psychological, others more... esoteric." Her lips quirk. "Depending how much knowledge has survived the passage of years. I cannot think of any purely military reasons to concentrate a galactic-scale force in such a manner."

"Certainly not, it opens up a perfectly functional military to such dramatic catastrophes as the battle at Endor," agrees Thrawn, mildly. "But when you realize that the Emperor was Sith, and on the Death Star, and that the battle became a disaster not with the Death Star's destruction, but with his death..." He smiles. "Well, then it becomes quite simple. If esoteric, as you put it."

"Such abilities are not exactly commonplace. It is more than a question of mere knowledge, a certain innate gift is required."

"Is it. The self proclaimed Jedi Master implied it was a matter of power, not innate gifts."

Callida is not saying a word, nope. Not saying a word.

"If one is prepared to spend every moment of their time micromanaging each detailed action of every subordinate, indeed, that may be accomplished by power alone. It is a simple matter to mold the minds of the weak. But if you wish your forces to be capable of more than breathing without your direct intervention..."

"It requires something a bit more subtle." He glances between Occlus and Callida. "When the Emperor died, the entire Imperial force lost its resolve and discipline in an instant. Can I surmise that a properly talented individual wouldn't cause this loss?"

"According to my research, yes."

Occlus projects calm through the Force at Callida.

Callida is a Sith, so she's unlikely to do something so elementary as panic, but the calm is certainly appreciated. The Grand Admiral unnerves her a bit. Sort of like Occlus did, when they first met. Well, if Occlus were blue, male, and literally sitting on a void in the Force. He's hard for her to read, and she doesn't know how much he knows, and that really bothers her.

"Then according to your research, is there some way to locate an individual with this gift?"

"As I said, it is rare. Perhaps one or two in a generation with the potential. If you have a convenient population of Force-users, I might be able to determine if any fit."

"No. The Emperor saw to the death of nearly all of the Jedi, and I believe I already commented on the fate of the Sith."

"'Nearly all' the Jedi?"

"There is one remaining. Luke Skywalker. And his untrained sister, and her unborn children."

(The tech quietly enters the room, providing the datapad and datacards.)

Occlus accepts the datapad and begins scanning through the information.

"Well then. Enough of the past. Tell me of your plans for the future, Grand Admiral."

He considers Occlus for a moment.

"I suppose," he muses, "that I should mention the necessity of a strong central government with an equally strong military force with which to defend it, and the people that live behind its borders. I believe the universe is bigger than any of us consider it, and that there might be threats we can't face as a loose collection of squabbling states."

"So rebuilding this Empire would not be simply for your own satisfaction?"

"Not simply, no. It'd be a shame to go to the trouble of rebuilding an Empire only to let it rip itself apart in a century."

But he does enjoy the challenge of it.

"In my time, extragalactic hyperspace travel was accepted to be impossible. Has this changed?"

"Impossible by current galactic technology, yes. But I did encounter a number of nascent scouting parties with intergalactic trajectories in the Unknown Regions, so not comprehensively impossible."

"Hm."

Occlus glances at her apprentice.

Callida is not so persuaded by the idea of joining in on something because it seems like it might be kind of interesting to do.

Right. Okay. Time to start talking. She motions to the datapad, so Occlus can pass it to her.

"I can't help but notice," says Callida slowly, "that rebellions are messy, and difficult, and those conducting them have to be highly motivated to enact them. Especially when faced against an overwhelming force in impossible odds." She fixes Thrawn with a look. "So which of the Empire's policies were responsible?"

One down. But that was the easy one, the apprentice is the troublesome one, isn't she. And not so easily overlooked, Occlus values this apprentice too much to ignore something so easily to attend to as her preferences.

He smiles. "That is a subject of some debate. As I understand, the Emperor cultivated their existence as an excuse to tighten governing policies and to keep martial law in place."

"So are we talking mass slavery, genocide, grievous torture...?"

"The core of the Rebellion was formed from Old Republic Senators unhappy that their power was diminished in the new order," says Pellaeon. Spineless cowards, the lot of them. "I will not say that I agreed with everything the Emperor did, but the galaxy was a better place with the Empire in charge."

"Which parts did you disagree with?"

Pellaeon's jaw clenches. He does not look at Thrawn.

"Many might say his anti-alien sentiment ran to extremes, sometimes to the detriment of the Empire as a whole."

"I thought the destruction of Alderaan was wasteful and shortsighted, myself," adds Thrawn, somewhat amused with Pellaeon's discomfort.

Callida raises her eyebrows.

"By what method was it destroyed?"

"One of the Death Star's more famous capabilities was the ability to destroy planets."

"Why," says Callida blankly, "would you build not one, but two."

Occlus rolls her eyes.

"Superweapons," she murmurs.

"And the Death Stars, yes," says Pellaeon.

"Why would you want to destroy a planet when habitable planets are so very useful," mourns Callida. "Almost anything else would be better for whatever destructive goal you're attempting to accomplish, except perhaps blowing up the stars the planets orbit."

"It is," says Grand Admiral Thrawn, "very memorable."

"Excellent, so everyone can commemorate the pointless destruction of potentially useful future resources, that is how a proper empire is run, not off of intelligent policies or shrewd governing or proper cultural adoption, but big stupid wasteful explosions -" She shakes her head, clearly annoyed.

Oh, Thrawn likes her. She's probably his single biggest potential inhibitor to galactic conquest aside from the Rebels themselves, but he can't help but appreciate her practicality.

Apparently her apprentice has thoughts on this topic. How delightful.

"If we join you, your policies will be different." This is not a question.

"Which would you suggest we replace, and with what?" asks Thrawn to Occlus, and then he looks to Callida for the answer.

"I am going to make," mutters Callida, "a list. At the top, 'Do not blow up planets without very good reason.' Followed by 'xenophobia is shortsighted' and - you didn't actually confirm or deny any of my earlier guesses, I assume genocide must be on the list if it has absurd planetary destruction, but what of the others?"

"Slavery is practiced but victims consist mainly of subjugated alien species, torture is not 'grievous' but it is a useful tool for gaining information when necessary."

Callida sighs heavily.

"I wonder if a Sith was the Emperor or not, my, it's just so very subtle."

"They cannot all be such shining examples as we." Occlus looks to Thrawn. "You will, I think, find all our suggestions entirely reasonable. And if not, we will of course entertain discussion of your objections. You will lay out your overall strategy to us, and we will be consulted on any future changes thereto."

"I trust that you have something to offer the Empire to make up for the trouble?"

Callida's not even sure she wants to work with these people at all, if they do things so incorrectly that they blow up planets. Maybe Thrawn isn't an idiot, but he is not his organization, though he leads it.

Besides, they haven't tried to get back to their own time, if they can, then all of this might be moot. ... Well, moot except for surreptitiously stealing their more advanced technology. If that's even possible.

"Experience in running an Empire that does not need to destroy planets to make a point. My own considerable power. And the proper form of battle meditation."

Occlus wants to see what else this Grand Admiral is capable of. And it sounds like there is something of an empty space in the galaxy that would normally be occupied by a group of Force-users. Perhaps she can make something of that.

And to properly study the Ourobouros she will need the resources of an empire.

"I see," says Thrawn, amused. He glances at Occlus, and then at Callida. If he has these two right, and he's nearly certain that he does, it's the apprentice with the battle meditation. How interesting.

"Describe the possible uses of your considerable power?"

"Divination. Alchemy. Creating objects of power. Various other ritual Sith magics. Training other Sith. And of course, any ground-based battle I take part in is a battle I will win."

"Interesting." He's intrigued. So many potential options. "Any characteristics you require in prospective students? Aside from Force sensitivity, of course."

"In the past, I have been very selective. Few meet my criteria. Under the circumstances, I may be persuaded to relax those standards. My primary requirement is a mind capable of keen thought. I will not teach an imbecile."

"I think that a large number of dim-witted Sith is one of the last things the Empire needs. Please, keep your astute prerequisites for the sake of quality."

Pellaeon is of the opinion that any number of Sith of any intellectual capability is one of the last things the Empire needs. What is Thrawn doing?

Recruiting Sith, or attempting to, anyway.

Though one member of the Sith duo is still rather unconvinced, especially after reading from the 'Rebel' historical entries.

"The ones you call Rebels appear to have set up a functioning, if rather new and untested, government," observes Callida. "Thoughts?"

"It's just barely begun and it's already a hopelessly bloated bureaucratic mess of a governing system. It will collapse, at best, within the century, and the galaxy will fall to anarchy unless a better system steps in."

Callida is tactful enough to not say 'Like the one that blows up planets and enslaves the very people it's supposed to serve?' but she certainly thinks it very loudly.

"What is your command structure like?" she asks, instead. "Military and governing both, unless they're one and the same?"

Pellaeon clears his throat.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn is in overall military command. Civil governance is regional on a sector level, with a Moff in charge of each. There are at present six Grand Moffs, each responsible for several sectors. They form a council that is in law equal in authority to the Admiral." And above that, commanding all of them would be the Emperor except they don't have one of those anymore.

"And in practice?"

Pellaeon looks to Thrawn.

Grand Admiral Thrawn smiles.

"In practice," he says softly, "I am in command."

"How much of a nuisance are the Grand Moffs, and what are their projected opinions of two Sith showing up?"

"They are pragmatic, if occasionally petty. They defer to me because we are at war, and if we are at war, they would prefer that I remain in charge." He glances between Callida and Occlus. "And do you care?"

He seems to find this amusing.

"I try to avoid being in situations where I need to solve all of my problems with gratuitous murder," says Callida, a little tartly. "So if they are likely to try to make a pet of me or come at me with assassination attempts, I would like to know in advance."

"Your bureaucracy is of little interest to me," says Occlus. The unless it gets in my way goes unspoken.

Thrawn nods. "During the conquest of the Rebels, you will be far too useful for anyone to attempt to use you as political pawns. After - well, that would depend on what use you were to the Empire, and what exactly you intend to do."

Occlus arches a brow.

"Any who would attempt to toy with a Sith had best be very sure that their life is not worth more to them than the success of their gambit."

"Granted, but I don't think the Empire is free from fools that misunderstand the nature of actions and their consequences." He shrugs. "I'd inferred that you'd rather I didn't lie to you."

"Indeed not. I am simply returning the favor in kind. I do not expect you to be so foolish as to fall into that particular error."

If I were to try to kill you, Thrawn doesn't say, I would be very certain that I would succeed before I even entertained the notion.

"I endeavor to understand cause and effect," he says, implacably.

"That is good." She smiles briefly, coldly. "We understand each other, then."

He smiles back, just as cold. "Yes, I believe we do."

They would, of course, both calmly cause each other some truly impressive hell if provoked. But they have no reason not to get along. Not, of course, if he can get her apprentice to agree to join the Empire, thus sidestepping the entire reason they would be fighting.

He thinks he's learned enough about her to begin convincing her. That bit about her opinion of the Death Star, combined with her line of questioning and her earlier actions paints a telling, if admittedly incomplete, picture. Pity that there was no way he could quickly learn her taste in art, but he can't always get everything he wants. Sometimes he has to go and acquire it himself.

"Whatever nuisance you think the Grand Moffs might be," he says, looking at Callida. "I invite you to think on the headache that a senate with hundreds of senators would invoke. If the number does not grow to thousands. Each with their own agenda, each with their own opinion, each with their own methodology, fighting and lying and ripping each other to pieces for another few years of status and paycheck." He notes Callida's subtle change in expression, guesses the possible argument, and gently switches tactics. "Perhaps many of them have valuable solutions, but do you think they'd have the commitment to see any of them through? Their voters would grow impatient with a plan that didn't result in anything immediately, and then it would be scrapped before it could be seen to fruition. An imperfect but well-implemented plan is better than several competing attempts at a perfect one that all get exactly nowhere, piling up on top of each other until everyone's tangled in a hopeless web of outdated and impotent laws."

"... Granted. But I haven't seen enough of the system to really judge it for its efficiency, much less condemn it for a lack of it."

"And perhaps it will surprise me," though he highly doubts it, "but do you think they'd let you anywhere near a place where you can ever affect anything?"

"I'm not even sure I would want to. I just got here, I'm hardly in a position to intelligently govern a planet, let alone a galaxy."

"I don't recall mentioning putting you in a position of political power," notes Thrawn, amused. Though if she weren't a Sith Lord, he might be tempted to make her an officer. "By all means, if you think yourself incapable, leave it to someone better equipped. But could you stand to witness the galaxy fall to pieces around you, with no one to listen to any solution you might offer?"

"It's not guaranteed that they wouldn't listen to me. I'm -"

"A Sith Lord. You freely admitted it. Don't you think that every scrap of potential goodwill towards the Sith has been burned to ashes by your predecessors?"

Maybe with Vader such an interruption would earn wrath, but Callida just frowns. I don't have to tell them, is the first reply that she thinks, scrapped near immediately for how much she hates the idea of living what would essentially be a lie. Then I can convince them I'm not crazy or evil, but that wouldn't work with a large governing body, would it, it's difficult to convince a mob. Maybe some of them will listen anyway -

"What I am offering," says Thrawn, almost gently, "is not based on the ever changing whims of a forgetful and treacherous galaxy. The Empire as it was imperfect and tyrannical. But the Empire as it was died with the Emperor at Endor. You can help make something better."

He considers, processing her insistence that she wants to stay out of it when combined with how she obviously doesn't, and then adds, "But of course, if you'd rather pretend apathy, leave all the worlds in this galaxy to their fate, I can find you a nice backwater planet on which you can live out the rest of your life in peace."

Callida twitches.

She glares at him.

"I am seeing now why you are in charge," she mutters.

Pellaeon is just in his chair over here, staying very carefully out of this one.

Yes, she thinks this Grand Admiral does indeed have the skill to achieve his goals. Marvelous.

"I'm flattered. Now. Do we have a deal?"

Callida takes a deep breath, and picks up her annoyance and the emotional trail this man has so skillfully led her down, and shoves it into a box. He's manipulating her and it's pissing her off.

"You know," she says, regaining her composure, "I don't believe you've mentioned the possibility of a peace agreement with the New Republic. Why do you have to rebuild the Empire with war?"

Damn it. He was this close, he almost had her.

"They're ideologically opposed, and believe that all remnants of the Empire must be purged from the galaxy," he says, in lieu of what he's actually thinking, which is I want the entire galaxy, not just half of it. "It is, in many ways, self defense."

"Bullshit, they're ideologically opposed to a monstrous regime, if you cleaned up your act they might be inclined to play nice and make peace."

"And leave a galaxy in fractured pieces, free for the taking by any extragalactic force. The point is not peace, it is unity, so that other atrocities might be prevented."

"That's an awful lot of people that die now for things that might happen in the future."

"Will," corrects Grand Admiral Thrawn, a little coldly. "You recall the scouting parties I mentioned?"

It might just be an excuse, but if he's genuinely worried, then he's at the very least a smart man, and his concerns are valid and she shouldn't ignore them. "Any time estimate for when the main force will show up?"

"Being that we are dealing with a foreign alien entity with unknown technology and psychology, none that I would put any weight in."

Callida doesn't insult him by asking him if he's very very sure. She looks at him, and then looks at Occlus.

Occlus has already made her decision. Callida gets a fractional nod.

Callida would really like Thrawn to be wrong about the weird extragalactic threat he has been vague about, but if Occlus's read on him's the same as Callida's - he's not lying, and he's not (just) using it as an excuse to conquer the galaxy. He's a bit megalomaniacal and manipulative, maybe, but he has seemed very rational so far. If she keeps her stipulations reasonable, she doesn't particularly see why she wouldn't get them, which is more than the other major contender for galactic protection could say. And Thrawn obviously doesn't want to piss off a pair of Sith, immune to the Force though he can make himself. Even if lightsabers might not cut through everything, Occlus could crush him with a table. Immunity to the Force doesn't mean immunity to momentum. Or, if Callida wants to participate, blaster bolts.

The New Republic is not so guaranteed to get along with them. Nor is it guaranteed to even listen to her, and - well, all of his earlier points are still very valid, aren't they. That's annoying. She's annoyed.

She sighs. Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh she will still totally try to peace treaty the shit out of this conflict, but ugh.

"Right. I'll - get a list of things that are not okay, and if they are particularly economically, politically, or martially crippling I'll try to work with you on it. I'd really appreciate if you could follow the spirit of the list and not just the straight rules on it. Please do not be terrible."

"Excellent. I expect I will look forward to working with you both," says Grand Admiral Thrawn, pleased.

"Likewise. I believe rooms were mentioned?"

"Ah, yes, my lord," says Pellaeon. "The guard outside can show you the way."

"Very good." She gets up to leave, beckoning her apprentice with her. The guard does indeed show them to their quarters. They are both adjacent and somewhat larger than one might expect for a starship. Occlus sends him off, and he departs with a bow.

"Come, meditate with me," she says to Callida. This is code for we are being watched, we will use a communication trance to talk. Occlus settles on one of the chairs.

Callida follows, of course. Her visible annoyance with the circumstance is controlled soon enough, hidden carefully behind her usual cool mask.

"Yes, my lord," agrees Callida, and she sits in another chair nearby. A proper communication trance is slightly trickier than it usually is, because she is still annoyed, but she can overcome that with sufficient application of practice and willpower. She applies sufficient willpower, and has the practice under her belt already.

Well, 'says' Callida. I hope you at least found my obstinance entertaining?

A flicker of Occlus's amusement crosses the bond.

More so than not. Your principles will someday get you into trouble.

Yeah, probably. She's not giving them up, because they are hers, but the point's acknowledged.

Principles aside, we will need more resources than the two of us alone can conjure to properly analyze the workings of the Ourobouros. And this conflict is deep enough that until it is ended, neither side will spare us them.

No, they wouldn't, would they. She'd sigh, if that wouldn't make it more obvious that they're conversing than it already is. Occlus can have the mental impression of a sigh, instead. I still want to try to use the power of friendship diplomacy to end it, but I'll have to make sure we have the proper supplies guaranteed through it.

The Admiral is not lying about the extragalactic threat or its perceived scale. He may yet be mistaken, but it is something to bear in mind.

Are you doubting my insatiable and preposterous desire to fix the galaxy? I don't want to break the future just to get back to the - past, I suppose it is now. There's a hint of muted sorrow coming through the bond, despite the levity in her phrasing. She shoves it aside soon enough, anyway.

Even without the morals, it would leave me open to potentially becoming a casualty of the invaders. Which, screw that.

Just so. Approval filters through.

What do you make of this Skywalker? 'Last of the Jedi'.

Not sure what to think, really. There's a lot of what he's done but not a lot of what sort of person he is in the datacards. I'm sort of inclined to sit him down and have a chat, if he's one of the less, uh. Zealous Jedi. Because if he's just going to call her evil without at least having a conversation, she might be tempted to exterminate the Jedi and go found a better Force user system.

I would be interested in that as well. A Jedi that killed an Emperor. I wonder if he is like anything like the other one.

If we and he are indeed the last of our respective Orders, now may be an appropriate time to consider whether it would be wise to continue to propagate them.

Callida recalls her first meeting with aforementioned Jedi that killed the Emperor. You'll forgive me if I hope he's a bit less belligerent. The poor cereal bowl didn't deserve its treatment.

If anyone could make something sane and reasonable out of the Sith, it would be us. But I'd be worried about attaching whatever we make to the name Sith; it might open up prospective students to thinking certain teachings are allowed. I can't imagine that the galaxy's as free of Sith artifacts as it apparently is of Sith. Have a single eager student trying to earn some extra credit and taking an interest in archaeology, and then they find a Sith holocron and think 'Oh this is for me'... She mentally shrugs. And then it all spirals from there.

And my library has probably been scattered to all corners of the galaxy by now, containing the knowledge will be difficult... Easier to make proper respect for and treatment of infohazards a basic component of the new order.

Oh, certainly, I'm just considering the tenets we'd want to teach students, and the ones they'd get from studying their 'order's' history, and uh. The history of the Sith's a bit too murdery for my taste. Especially when a major part of being a Sith is about killing your teacher. Which Callida has always thought was completely and utterly insane. Callida has never had any notions about killing Occlus and usurping her position, and is pretty sure she literally never will, because that sounds fucking insane. She's worked hard to not be one of the crazy Sith, she'd like to keep at it.

Most of them deserve it. But, yes, I see your point. Occlus did kill her teacher, but she would be regretful if Callida forced her hand the same way. That will never happen, of course. Her apprentice is eminently sensible.

There will be no way to escape the fact that the history of the Sith exists, any students should be assumed to come across it eventually. But if they do not consider themselves Sith when they do so... Yes. It would be best to divorce ourselves from both orders if we are making such changes.

Yep. Unfortunately, because of this, we must think of a catchy four letter word to describe a third group of Force wielders. To fit the theme. She doesn't particularly think she wants to take the name 'Jedi' either, considering that history.

...scrap it all and start over. We'll stay Sith.

It's a good thing Callida has gotten pretty good at composure, because otherwise she might be tempted to laugh or crack a smile.

And now we learn of our true enemy. Naming things.

It is, thankfully, an enemy we can safely put off confronting. We have more immediate ones. Speaking of which, you have a list to make for our new friend the Grand Admiral.

Ah, yes. I do. Do you want to help with it, or is there anything we should discuss before I get to working on it?

You will do fine. If you develop questions, you may come to me with them.

Yep, thanks. Callida sends the impression that she would give Occlus a hug if Occlus would at all appreciate it, instead of just tolerating it with a mild amount of irritation, and then switches her meditation to one that helps with memory enhancement, to get to making the list.

Occlus breaks her trance entirely, and gets out the historical datapad. She wants more information about the fall of the Jedi.

Elsewhere, Grand Admiral Thrawn glances up from reading reports on Mount Tantiss to look at Pellaeon.

"Captain, I'm curious of your impression of our two honored guests."

"They're... not exactly what I was expecting, sir."

"Were you imagining that I would bring another coming of Darth Vader aboard your ship?"

"I don't have any other references for Sith behavior, sir."

"I am not reprimanding you for your caution, it's well placed, I merely wish to understand your perspective on the matter."

"Yes, sir. I suppose... they have the same sort of aura about them. But more controlled. And Lord Callida's, ah, morals surprised me."

"Yes, she seemed quite attached to them. It was most interesting."

"What are you going to do about that?"

"Acquiesce to her demands, of course," says Thrawn, smoothly. Almost cheerfully, actually. "Unless she fails to give more morally appropriate alternatives."

Pellaeon's eyebrows shoot up.

"Sir?"

"She did not strike me as either unreasonable or unintelligent, captain. If all she wants is to create an empire that she finds morally agreeable - well, that's hardly inimical to any of us, irritating as the interim might be."

"I... see, sir. But why is it necessary to indulge with this? Do we really need them?"

"Need, perhaps not. But they are both very useful. Likely the most useful things to be found in Mount Tantiss."

"More so than the Spaarti cylinders?"

Thrawn considers.

"Yes."

Well then.

"Yes, sir."

"Patience, captain. I trust their use will become clear soon enough."

"In the meantime, sir, Intelligence has a lead on a group of those mole miners you asked for."

"Excellent. And where will we be acquiring them?"

"A mining operation called Nomad City, on the planet Nkllon." Pellaeon brings up the data on the main holoprojector. "But Nkllon is too close to its sun to be approached directly. Radiation would overload any ship's sensors and shielding within minutes."

"An interesting problem," muses Thrawn. "I'll have to think on it. For now, I have another undertaking to pursue..."

The Grand Admiral would like to launch a simultaneous strike against three systems. With the help of their guests, of course.

Probably a good idea to test their capabilities sooner, Pellaeon supposes.

Systems are chosen. Bpfassh, Jkryst, and Kdanskd, all in the Sluis sector. Logistical planning ensues.

... Callida does not think she can reach three separate systems at once. Not without help, anyway.

Does Occlus think she could help magnify Callida in some way?

Occlus has a ritual for this, of course. This technique is a variant on the Force meld, which is itself a type of smaller-scale battle mediation. With it, Callida should be able to draw upon Occlus's power. Learning it is fairly straightforward.

Oh, good. Then she can do three systems at once. She expects Thrawn will be pleased.

Which of course, he is. He's quick to attend to the needs of his guests, should they find that they have any before the attack.

Occlus wants a list of all relics he's cataloged in the storehouse so far.

The Grand Admiral is of course happy to provide such a list. Would she like a list of everything, including the boring modern technology, or just the probably-force-related stuff?

(He is not actually happy to provide such a list. But he'll do it anyway.)

She's really only interested in the Force-related artifacts.

As the honored Sith Lord wishes. She can have her pick of them, though Thrawn would of course greatly appreciate if she could explain just what resources they have newly acquired, since Occlus and her apprentice are the only ones who could possibly figure that out.

Once Occlus has determined what these artifacts do, she will of course explain. It is a process that takes time, however. Dark side artifacts can be dangerous to experiment with.

...This one she recognizes though. It is a plague-spreader. Set it up near your enemy's home, activate it, then watch as it pulses virulently infective spores throughout the region.

"Oh, is that all," says the Grand Admiral of this object, sounding disappointed. "Are there any particular containment requirements?"

"A vacuum-tight seal. And don't let anyone mess with it. This looks like an insanity variant plague. Not particularly pleasant to experience, nor easy to contain once it is unleashed."

"Insanity variant plague. Interesting. Likely unusable, but interesting nonetheless. I'll prepare a location for its isolation - can I trust you will seal it?"

"It will be done."

"Excellent. Thank you, your services are appreciated."

Occlus packs the spreader away, but not before noting several possible avenues towards a cure, should one become required.

This is also appreciated. The several possible avenues will be sensibly cataloged and stored in the Imperial database if they are ever required in the future.

But for now, Thrawn believes they have a three pronged strike to launch?

The Imperial military forces are prepared. They await only their coordinator.

Their coordinator is outwardly the picture of calm assurance. Thrawn would like her on the bridge where she can be easily reached to relay changes in the battle or orders. Callida flatly informs him that that's a bad idea, because battle meditation is, to put it lightly, really really hard. Interruptions are not conductive to battle meditation, each one made will set her back and she'll have to play catch up to pick out the thousands of threads she dropped by paying attention to anything that isn't the battle meditation itself. If the Admiral really wants to be able to relay orders through Callida, Occlus will be connected to her, she can be on the bridge. If she consents to that.

Inwardly - well. She has only used it during ground battles, not space battles, and never on a scale so vast. Never three separate systems at once. She's - fairly certain she can do it, during her battle meditations on Ilum, even without Occlus's power, she felt she could extend it further. That there was more she could do. Still, she's nervous. Apprehensive. Looking for ways she can shore up her own lack of experience in advance, plans she could make, ways she could practice her own ability to multitask. So she meditates, stretches out to learn the Chimaera and how it functions. Reaching out to the other ships with the Force isn't particularly difficult, but seeing it in the detail she needs it harder. It'll be easier when she has Occlus's power to lean on, but it's better if she gets some practice in on that front with her own less generous stores.

And then all too quickly, it's time to conduct an attack. Well. Callida always was one to first learn how to crawl, and then start using that knowledge to figure out how to run. Right, okay. She can do this, as long as she doesn't think about how completely crazy and impossible it is. Yes. It's foolproof. Just as long as the fool in charge doesn't fuck it up. She minimizes risk; she'll be doing this from her room, with the lights and intercom off. Absolutely no one will be allowed to knock on the door. Some Sith like to set up some sort of incense when doing something like this, but that doesn't help Callida do anything but sneeze. A dark, quiet room will be all she gets. The door'll be locked, too, but not until she's begun borrowing power from Occlus.

"Ready, my lord," she says, softly, eyes closed. They have time before the star destroyers make the hyperspace jumps to the systems, but not overly much. Enough time to acclimate to the rush of power, though. Hopefully.

"Remember that in the meld we will be as one mind in the Force. You know how to guard your thoughts. Do not forget."

Occlus sends tendrils of connective power questing towards her apprentice's Force presence. They latch on with a sense of psychic pressure, and then the meld takes hold. Occlus's power feels like a deep lake, icy smooth on the surface but with a sense of roiling depths. Glassy, impenetrable surfaces ward off Occlus's thoughts and guide Callida along her way to tapping the power.

Callida does know how to guard her thoughts, so the rush of sheer utter glee at having this much power at her fingertips is - muted. It is muted. Muted and then carefully filed away because that is probably how she becomes one of the crazy Sith, and even if it isn't, Occlus would probably find it a bit annoying to have to deal with directly in her head.

Next is a (muted, again) sense of being a little out of her depth - how does she even use all of this. Callida uses her own personal power like a scalpel, carefully applying all of it with maximum efficiency possible. Avoiding leaving resources unused, trying to figure out how she can use everything she has in every clever way possible. Here, there's just - too much to use. She can't possibly use it all effectively, she'd either have to start throwing it around like a battering ram or leave some of it unused -

And then comes the discipline, telling all of the rest of this shit in her (their?) head to sit down and shut up because she has a job to do. She does not have a requirement to use all of Occlus's power efficiently, she just has to do her job and do it well with the resources offered. If she doesn't use it all, fine. One job. She can do it. And if she can't, well, that's Thrawn's fault really, he shouldn't have given her such an insanely impossible task as her starter. (Seriously, what was he expecting, not even a small scale battle first? Really? Straight to the big leagues? Whatever.)

She reaches out with the Force to find and catalogue her charges. To change the battlefield, one must understand the battlefield, especially with something as delicate and tricky as battle meditation. It's not a bludgeon, not a wave of rolling power, not a fog that envelops and suffocates everyone in it with cloying power. If she does her job right, non-Force users won't notice her presence at all. There will be no mysterious, inexplicable jump in raw morale and competency, no foreign fighting spirit taking root in the minds of the Imperial soldiers at Callida's command. The end result will certainly look like a massive jump in all of the above, but these are the ends achieved, not the means. The means are more subtle, more complicated. Dependent on what exactly is taking place in the battle itself.

When Callida had first begun practicing battle meditation, it had been by small manipulations through the Force. Nudging a blaster so that its bolt would miss or hit, helping someone find their balance when their feet failed to find purchase on shaking ground, subtly delaying soldiers so that their timing will be match with an opening. Entire battles can be won or lost by lucky shots and improved timing. She'd proven to be correct, but she hadn't realized at the time how correct she was, or how deep the well could go. Manipulating the aim of a blaster was useful, certainly, and Callida will never hesitate to do so if it looks like it would help, but she can do so much more. She's learned that there's much she can offer to the battlefield besides strokes of raw luck.

One of the fundamental nuances of a battle is that, despite the best efforts of commanders and tacticians, they are inevitably incredibly messy. The side that is the better organized, the faster to adapt to adversity and calculate what needs to be done and then how to do it will not have guaranteed victory, but will have an overwhelming advantage. To compensate for this, direct mind control is an option, certainly. Headed by a competent commander, a legion of perfectly controlled puppets can become a force to be reckoned with. But that's not how Callida particularly wants to affect those under her power. What she does is harder, more personalized. Helping a lieutenant cut through a cloud of confusion and fear to figure out what to do, aiding a soldier to look in just the right direction to spot a flaking maneuver by an enemy, and cutting back on miscommunication, ensuring that what someone meant is understood.

Some of the effects of battle meditation can be copied by direct control, but true battle meditation doesn't stifle the thoughts of those it aids. It helps them reach the potential already inherently present. Callida's only helping them think and react faster, communicate clearer, aim accurately. The deeds they do are their own. There's a lot to adjust to, when dealing with space combat instead of ground combat. More people to assist, more area to monitor, more factors to keep aware of. It's a lot to adjust to, but the principles are the same. She'll be very, very busy, but she knows the work.

And she can do it.

There we go. Her apprentice has the situation well in hand. A calm reassurance seeps from Occlus's crystalline walls of thought.

She quietly exits the room and seals the door. Now, to the bridge to observe the Admiral's half of this battle.

The Grand Admiral seems to have things in hand. Or, his subordinates do. The Grand Admiral himself is looking critically at a viewing screen.

"Darth Occlus," he says, turning around to face the Sith. "Is your apprentice ready?"

"She is. We await your word." Her voicy is as flatly calm as ever, despite the effort she is exerting to keep her thoughts from impinging on Callida's concentration.

"All fleet ships signal readiness, Admiral," reports Captain Pellaeon.

"Is my flagship ready, Captain?"

Pellaeon straightens slightly.

"The Chimaera is fully at your command, Admiral."

"Excellent. Prepare for lightspeed."

For this particular mission they created a signaling system, so that all ships can jump to hyperspace near simultaneously. The added coordination of Lord Callida is all well and good, but Thrawn does not want his Empire to be entirely reliant on a Sith's blessing to function to his standards. Useful tools though these surprisingly sane Sith might be, Thrawn would be a fool to rely on anything exclusively.

Time marks are sent to each detachment.

Occlus takes note of these, and at the appropriate moment passes a thought to Callida, bubbling smoothly through the erected barriers: Now.

Well of course it's now, Callida's been paying close attention to everything and has noticed the countdown to lightspeed for all ships present. But there's still a flash of confused discomfort despite this, because really, having all of the people you're watching fling themselves in different directions at speeds faster than light is somewhat disorienting.

She'll handle it, naturally, but with some displeasure. Blech.

Part of the purpose was to establish the principle of communication with something low stakes.

The hyperspace jump is not very long, a few minutes, at most.

At these distances, timing of the realspace reversion is of utmost importance. A half-second's delay can make all the difference.

Luckily they have their guardian Sith Lord, who will help them avoid delays entirely. No exiting hyperspace too close to planetary defenses or suns for these people.

(Seriously though, blech.)

The fleets exit hyperspace smoothly and precisely on target. The three systems' defenders are all caught flat-footed as the Imperials begin their attacks.

Oh, good, they're all out of hyperspace.

Then three battles begin all at once, and she vaguely wants them all to go back to hyperspace. That was much easier than this. She feels - well, stretched very thin, to be frank. There's so much, so many people and so many things that need doing and it's hard to really get a perspective on any of them. Her previous records of improved efficiency just aren't going to be able to apply, here, even with Occlus's power at her fingertips. Maybe she could manage it if that's what she were aiming for, but she doesn't want efficiency at the cost of turning innocent soldiers' minds to jelly. That'd just be utterly missing the point.

Still, she won't get anywhere if she just lets herself be overwhelmed by the magnitude of her job. She can't be everywhere, so she just has to be in the right places. Paying attention where it matters, and leaving it to the men where it doesn't. Giving them openings that they can exploit, or closing up holes in defenses where they exist. When there's not much of either she can help line up shots and clear up communication and sow confusion in the enemy. There are a thousand things to keep track of, and it's hard, but it's not impossible. Slowly, she adjusts to a world where she keeps track of a thousand different threads. Bouncing between things as necessary becomes more natural, less like she's desperately rushing between different potential fires to put out or at breakneck speed. Instead, she's like some kind of watchful spider, sitting upon a vast and complicated web, flitting to and fro to weave different results or tug at certain threads, always keeping an eye out for disturbances that require her attention.

It's the most mentally exhausting thing she's ever done. It's the most exhilarating thing she's ever done. It's terribly fun, and if she weren't so busy doing it, she might be tempted to cackle.

It is always a pleasure to observe a competent individual perform their job efficiently and capably. All the more so when that task also advances her own goals.

Pellaeon watches the tacscreens intently, occasionally flicking a glance at the Grand Admiral or the Sith. Several times he moves to order a slight change in position to counter a threat, only to see the men already responding.

It reminds him of the height of Imperial power, when the fleets were crewed by experienced veterans rather than half-raw recruits.

The Grand Admiral watches his own tacscreens with an almost lazy interest. There's a hint of a smile at his lips as the very one-sided battle proceeds.

"If I'm not mistaken," observes Grand Admiral Thrawn, "I believe that we're improving in efficiency. Darth Occlus, what's the status of your apprentice, and the other two taskforces?"

"She is performing well. The other forces are meeting with equal success."

"Good. Then have the Nemesis break off from its group and return to the rendezvous point to await us."

"Very well."

Occlus extends a tendril of thought towards the center of her apprentice's web of activity. Gently so as not to disrupt her concentration, but infused with a sense of importance.

The Nemesis is to disengage and return to rendezvous.

... What? Why? That makes zero tactical sense and is completely out of nowhere, and furthermore she's not even in any kind of state to relay orders. She's too busy dealing with keeping the Judicator's TIE fighter screen in perfect formation and the Chimaera's angling optimized for breaking through the defenses of this fighter base and a million other little things she's juggling too quickly to even really think about, and in order to actually relay an order she'll have to pull back on all of them and refocus herself clearly enough that a non Force-user could even hear her -

She does it, because whatever it is, it is important, and she doesn't have time to question orders when she needs to be back doing her job. But she does it with a sense of sullen impatience and frustration. It is much better for everyone if she's left to meditate and someone else relays orders, unless it is absolutely necessary.

The Nemesis disengages, but the overall effectiveness of every taskforce suffers, and Callida has to work double time to catch up to what she was doing. It takes a little while for efficiency to recover.

"Done," reports Occlus. "In the future, I advise you to relay that sort of command via ordinary holochannels, unless you have strong reason to believe your battle encrypts have been compromised. My apprentice will be most effective at aiding your forces' coordination when she is not distracted in such a manner."

"Duly noted," says Thrawn agreeably. "You have my sincerest apologies for the disruption."

He's watching the tacscreens with single minded interest. There's just so much that he's learning today.

The chrono ticks over fifteen minutes. Pellaeon takes note, and rechecks the data from the fleets.

"Mark fifteen minutes, Admiral. All objectives report as achieved. Shall I signal the retreat?"

"Yes, I believe we've terrorized them enough for our purposes. Begin making the preparations for lightspeed."

Pellaeon gives the necessary orders, and the fleets disengage.

The other attack forces break off as scheduled, and Callida begins easing her way out of the fleet. Everything that still requires her attention is wrapped up, and then she starts disentangling herself from Occlus. While the entire thing didn't last more than twenty minutes, she's exhausted. She would like nothing more than to have a long bath and an even longer nap.

A very satisfied nap. She did well, and knows it.

Take your rest, sends Occlus before the link is broken. I will stall them.

She arches an eyebrow at the Chiss across the command room. "Well, Admiral?"

"A most telling offensive," says the Grand Admiral, sounding vaguely pleased. "And how has it affected your apprentice?"

"She is wearied. This was a large-scale endeavor. More stamina will come with practice."

"Indeed. If I may, how much practice has she had?"

"A week or so, conducting a planetary-scale campaign."

"Really? Is it normal, for a Force-user of her talents to develop the skill so quickly?"

"My apprentice is an exceptionally quick study in most areas."

"I commend your excellent taste and good fortune."

"There was no 'luck' involved, Grand Admiral. Any apprentice of mine would inevitably be one of her caliber."

"I have no doubt to your standards or methods of instruction, Darth Occlus. I was merely congratulating you on finding an individual who met your criteria."

"Perhaps it took me eighty years to find her and I scoured half the planets in the galaxy. You do not know how much effort I expended, and writing that off as fortune might be a thing one could take offense at."

"I apologize," says Grand Admiral Thrawn, mildly, "for any implied insult."

He gives her a look that says that he does not for a second believe she took eighty years to find her apprentice. But he doesn't challenge her assertion.

Pellaeon surreptitiously eases closer to the ysalamir. If Occlus were Vader, someone on the deck would be finding themself very short of breath right about now.

"There's no need to look like that, Captain. I am not one of the volatile Sith."