Drew Karpyshyn - Path of Destruction: A Novel of the Old Republic (Star Wars: Darth Bane)

In the last daysof the OldRepublic, the Sith-followers of theForce's dark side and ancient enemies of the Jedi order-numbered only two: oneMaster and one apprentice. Yet it was not always so. A thousand years beforethe Republic's collapse and Emperor Palpatine's rise to power, the Sith werelegion...

Lord Kaan, SithMaster and founder of the Brotherhood of Darkness, strode through the gore ofthe battlefield, a tall shadow in the night's gloom. Thousands of Republictroops and nearly a hundred Jedi had given their lives trying to defend thisworld against his army-and they had lost. He relished their suffering anddespair; even now he could sense it rising up like the stench from the brokencorpses scattered about the valley.

In the distance astorm was brewing. As each flash of lightning illuminated the sky, Korriban'sgreat Sith temple was momentarily visible in the distance, a stark silhouettetowering over the barren horizon.

A pair of figureswaited in the center of the slaughter, one human and the other Twi'lek. Herecognized them despite the darkness: Qordis and Kopecz, two of the morepowerful Sith Lords. Once they had been bitter rivals, but now they servedtogether in Kaan's Brotherhood. He approached them quickly, smiling.

Qordis, tall andso lean as to appear almost skeletal, smiled back. "This is a greatvictory, Lord Kaan. It has been far too long since the Sith have had an academyon Korriban."

"I sense youare eager to begin training the new apprentices here," Kaan replied."I expect you will provide me with many more powerful-and loyal-Sithadepts and Masters in the coming years."

"Provideyou?" Kopecz asked pointedly. "Don't you mean provide us? Are we notall part of the Brotherhood of Darkness?"

His question wasmet with an easy laugh. "Of course, Kopecz. A mere slip of the tongue?'

"Kopeczrefuses to celebrate in our triumph," Qordis noted. "He has been likethis all night."

Kaan clasped ahand on the hefty Twi'lek's shoulder. "This is a great victory forus," he said. "Korriban is more than just another world: it is asymbol. The birthplace of the Sith. This victory sends a message to theRepublic and the Jedi. Now they will truly know and fear the Brotherhood."

Kopecz shruggedfree of Kaan's hand and turned away with a flick of the tips of the long lekkuwound around his neck. "Celebrate if you wish," he called over hisshoulder as he walked away. "But the real war has only just begun."

Three Years Later

Dessel was lostin the suffering of his job, barely even aware of his surroundings. His armsached from the endless pounding of the hydraulic jack. Small bits of rockskipped off the cavern wall as he bored through, ricocheting off his protectivegoggles and stinging his exposed face and hands. Clouds of atomized dust filledthe air, obscuring his vision, and the screeching whine of the jack filled thecavern, drowning out all other sounds as it burrowed centimeter by agonizingcentimeter into the thick vein of cortosis woven into the rock before him.

Impervious toboth heat and energy, cortosis was prized in the construction of armor andshielding by both commercial and military interests, especially with the galaxyat war. Highly resistant to blaster bolts, cortosis alloys supposedly could withstandeven the blade of a lightsaber. Unfortunately, the very properties that made itso valuable also made it extremely difficult to mine. Plasma torches werevirtually useless; it would take days to burn away even a small section ofcortosis-laced rock. The only effective way to mine it was through the bruteforce of hydraulic jacks pounding relentlessly away at a vein, chipping thecortosis free bit by bit.

Cortosis was oneof the hardest materials in the galaxy. The force of the pounding quickly woredown the head of a jack, blunting it until it became almost useless. The dustclogged the hydraulic pistons, making them jam. Mining cortosis was hard on theequipment... and even harder on the miners.

Des had beenhammering away for nearly six standard hours. The jack weighed more than thirtykilos, and the strain of keeping it raised and pressed against the rock facewas taking its toll. His arms were trembling from the exertion. His lungs weregasping for air and choking on the clouds of fine mineral dust thrown up fromthe jack's head. Even his teeth hurt: the rattling vibration felt as if it wereshaking them loose from his gums.

But the miners onApatros were paid based on how much cortosis they brought back. If he quit now,another miner would jump in and start working the vein, taking a share of theprofits. Des didn't like to share.

The whine of thejack's motor took on a higher pitch, becoming a keening wail Des was all toofamiliar with. At twenty thousand rpm, the motor sucked in dust like a thirstybantha sucking up water after a long desert crossing. The only way to combat itwas by regular cleaning and servicing, and the Outer Rim Oreworks Companypreferred to buy cheap equipment and replace it, rather than sinking creditsinto maintenance. Des knew exactly what was going to happen next-and a secondlater, it did. The motor blew.

The hydraulicsseized with a horrible crunch, and a cloud of black smoke spit out the rear ofthe jack. Cursing ORO and its corporate policies, Des released his crampedfinger from the trigger and tossed the spent piece of equipment to the floor.

"Move aside,kid," a voice said.

Gerd, one of theother miners, stepped up and tried to shoulder Des out of the way so he couldwork the vein with his own jack. Gerd had been working the mines for nearlytwenty standard years, and it had turned his body into a mass of hard, knottedmuscle. But Des had been working the mines for ten years himself, ever since hewas a teenager, and he was just as solid as the older man-and a little bigger.He didn't budge.

"I'm notdone here," he said. "Jack died, that's all. Hand me yours and I'llkeep at it for a while."

"You knowthe rules, kid. You stop working and someone else is allowed to move in."

Technically, Gerdwas right. But nobody ever jumped another miner's claim over an equipmentmalfunction. Not unless he was trying to pick a fight.

Des took a quicklook around. The chamber was empty except for the two of them, standing lessthan half a meter apart. Not a surprise; Des usually chose caverns far off themain tunnel network. It had to be more than mere coincidence that Gerd washere.

Des had knownGerd for as long as he could remember. The middle-aged man had been friendswith Hurst, Des's father. Back when Des first started working the mines atthirteen, he had taken a lot of abuse from the bigger miners. His father hadbeen the worst tormentor, but Gerd had been one of the main instigators,dishing out more than his fair share of teasing, insults, and the occasional cuffon the ear.

Their harassmentshad ended shortly after Des's father died of a massive heart attack. It wasn'tbecause the miners felt sorry for the orphaned young man, though. By the time Hurst died, the tall,skinny teenager they loved to bully had become a mountain of muscle with heavyhands and a fierce temper. Mining was a tough job; it was the closest thing tohard labor outside a Republic prison colony. Whoever worked the mines onApatros got big-and Des just happened to become the biggest of them all. Half adozen black eyes, countless bloody noses, and one broken jaw in the space of amonth was all it took for Hurst's old friends to decide they'd be happier ifthey left Des alone.

Yet it was almostas if they blamed him for Hurst'sdeath, and every few months one of them tried again. Gerd had always been smartenough to keep his distance-until now.

"I don't seeany of your friends here with you, old man," Des said. "So back offmy claim, and nobody gets hurt."

Gerd spat on theground at Des's feet. "You don't even know what day it is, do you, boy?Kriffing disgrace is what you are!"