Darkness enveloped the room, despite the abundance of lamps and lights. But Darkness didn't care about the inventions of the primitive inhabitants of this galaxy. It had come into this world today, following the Force, so unceremoniously summoned by an arrogant gifted one. The fool had somehow needed to concentrate so much Dark Side energy around himself that even the Light retreated, allowing Darkness to swirl freely, ignoring all light sources in the room.
The hall was filled with medical equipment, leaving only a small semicircle of free space in the center, near the operating table. Three bacta tanks, which had so successfully replaced Manaan kolto several thousand years ago, stood in a neat row along one of the walls. Another wall was occupied by a complex system for monitoring the patient's condition, which allowed the patient to be put into stasis almost instantly if necessary. In the center, a tall representative of the Muun species leaned over the body of a man – a human. Darkness swirled around them, occasionally pierced by blood-red Force lightning.
The medical droid scurried from corner to corner, clearly not understanding what its master was doing. The patient had been dead for several days. There was no way to repair the damage.
But the Muun was unconcerned. He had spent his entire life fighting Death. And he was the only one who had come close to victory in all of history! Although he admitted that he was inspired by the achievements of the great Sith Emperor of the past, today – this would be his triumph and no one else's!
Yes, Vitiate had achieved much, managed to live for over a thousand years. But where was he now? He had lost to Death! This was not what the Muun aspired to. He was Darth Plagueis! He would defeat Death!
A wave of Darkness, following the flow of the great Force, struck the chest of the dead man. Hundreds of scarlet lightning bolts erupted from Plagueis's fingers and literally covered the body, lying on the operating table. Under such pressure, the human remains could not last long. The tissues should have turned to ash. But the Muun's intentions were different.
"I command you! LIVE!" the Sith Lord shouted, falling to one knee, no longer able to stand.
The strain was colossal, Plagueis's strength was draining. The Force itself, the great Force, did not allow him to stop the ritual. It was as if it had grabbed the Sith by the hands and was now forcing him to use all his reserves, as if it itself wanted the dead man to come back to life.
Darkness fed its adept, as if silently smirking at his suffering. The fool decided to play with the foundations of the universe. Well, he wasn't the first. Many had tried before him, and some had even succeeded. Gifted, Force-sensitive individuals had long merged with it after death, sometimes even retaining their minds and gaining true power and freedom. This was a natural process... development. This short-sighted one, blinded by the fear of death, was fleeing from his future... like all mortals...
A dim stream of light joined the Darkness, swirling around the dead man with a silvery glow.
The Force pressure around intensified so much that the lining of the walls and ceiling cracked, and the medical equipment suddenly began to melt, like wax candles. The med droid, whose program was unable to process what was happening, emitted panicked sounds in an attempt to attract its master's attention.
The Force, meanwhile, seemed to rejoice... making the meaning of what was happening clear to those who could perceive its influence. This amazing feeling of interaction with the Force of a living being cannot be described in words. Even all the feelings and sensations of all the millions of races in the galaxy would not be enough for even an approximate description.
The silvery mist, along with another stream of lightning, entered the body of the dead man.
Plagueis had never before experienced the sensations that now permeated his body. The Force raged inside and out, simultaneously burning all his reserves and saturating his body with unprecedented power. But besides that, for the first time, the Sith seemed to perceive certain feelings and emotions that belonged neither to him nor to anyone intelligent around him... he wasn't even sure if a mind could fully comprehend what the Muun's mind was desperately trying to recognize as emotions... What was it? A sense of duty fulfilled... success... the joy of deliverance? A feeling that what was happening was right... Were these his emotions? Or still a delusion of the Force, unknown even to the old Sith?
At that moment, a shockwave erupted from the body, throwing Plagueis to the far end of the hall. The stream of lightning from his hands was interrupted, and the Darkness around dissipated, giving way to the light from the lamps on the ceiling.
The Sith took several minutes to recover. He was exhausted and couldn't even move. The pain was slight, but the numbness throughout his body prevented him from assessing the full extent of the damage. Finally, he managed to sit up and look around. Chaos and complete destruction reigned around. The shockwave had destroyed the medical equipment and an unfortunate droid that had been in the way.
Concentrating on the pain from his broken arm and burned palms, the Muun transformed it into anger, then into strength. This basic dark side technique, taught almost first to all Sith, helped him quickly regain his strength at least enough to get up and examine the results of the ritual.
Darth Plagueis, staggering slightly, approached the operating table. He examined the body lying on it for a long time. He checked the vital signs, then turned to the Force and felt almost every cell of the organism.
The result was one – a dead man lay on the table.
Anger and resentment flared in the Muun's mind, and with a Force throw, he hurled the table into the wreckage of the bacta tanks.
It was all in vain! The ritual had failed, even though it had taken almost all his strength! Damn it, he had almost killed Plagueis himself! And the result was the same. Years of research and plans... all in vain.
Ever since he and his apprentice had failed to create life a few years ago using direct control over midi-chlorians, the Sith Lord had been hatching another plan. He needed a test subject, gifted with Force sensitivity. One who could surpass even a Jedi Master.
And he had been found!
There was a rumor that almost twenty years ago, the young Knight Sifo-Dyas had fallen in love with a woman – Tia Marr. His service to the Order had forced him to leave her. However, by then, she was already pregnant. Tia was from the almost forgotten Mirialan race. Their natural ability to see using the Force instead of normal vision indicated that many strong gifted ones were born among the representatives of this race.
Sifo-Dyas himself told Plagueis about this, whom he considered his friend, not suspecting his true nature as a Sith Lord.
The child of the Jedi Master and the Mirialan was truly strong. Potentially stronger than many on the Jedi Council. Only Yoda and two or three other Masters could compare to him, no more. If he had received the proper training, he would have posed a serious threat. Therefore, Plagueis, under the pretext of protecting the baby – his friend's son – ordered him and his mother to be hidden from the Order's trackers, who were always looking for future apprentices.
It was this baby, who had grown into a strong, precocious teenager, who now lay under the wreckage of the operating table.
And everything had been planned so well. The boy's blood had enough midi-chlorians to withstand the enormous amount of Force energy required to return to life. The moment was chosen correctly. Years of research allowed him to speak about this with confidence. But still... it wasn't enough.
Perhaps he should have trained the boy? Would that have helped?
"It doesn't matter," the Sith said aloud, tiredly.
There were many other test subjects. Not as strong, but also suitable under the conditions.
"Droids, restore everything here and get rid of the trash," he indicated the dead man.
Several service droids quickly rolled into the destroyed laboratory and began their work.
As Plagueis left the hall, concentrating on healing his wounds, he didn't even notice how the test subject's chest moved, taking the first breath in a long time.