
FanFiction
Emperor
By
Brendon Wahlberg (bwahlber+@pitt.edu)
.lit creation 03/03 by DrB
A series of stories about The Emperor during the film trilogy and leading up to Dark Empire, the comic saga by Tom Veitch.
Note: the character of Grand Admiral Saren and the Zingali are the creation of Michelle Slaughter. The final quote from the Book of Anger in this story, concerning Force Storms, is from Dark Empire, by Tom Veitch.
1
A New Enemy
Palpatine was the undisputed master of the whole galaxy, and he had no enemies left. His piercing yellow eyes gazed from a face mostly hidden by a deep black hood. What could be seen of that visage was severely etched with age, the eyes sunken into cavernous sockets surrounded by withered, mottled skin. The forehead seemed oddly misshapen, and the mouth was a rictus filled with ragged nubs of teeth. But that mouth was set in a wicked grin, and the eyes burned with a hungry fire.
There were some, of course, who thought of themselves as his enemies. The irritating Mon Mothma and Bail Organa, for example. This was their foolish conceit. They were nothing, as were the pitiful insurrectionists who had of late been calling themselves the
"Alliance". To the most powerful dark side master who ever lived, these were not enemies. The Jedi , weak-willed practitioners of the impotent side of the Force, were dead and gone. Knowing that they could have threatened him, Palpatine had unleashed the Sith and their Dark Lord to hunt them down. As if to prove their inferiority, many of the Jedi had practically set their necks to the blade. Disheartened by the fall of the Republic, they had not even resisted. A few fought or ran, only to be overcome by the brute force of Imperial technology and the relentless, merciless pursuit of Palpatine's servant, the fallen Jedi, Darth Vader. The bravest had brought the fight to his own doorstep; these Palpatine personally annihilated. The purge had taken a great deal of effort, and of the Sith, only Vader remained. But with the Jedi exterminated, Emperor Palpatine had no enemies left.
Anyone seeing Palpatine in his private meditation chamber, deep inside the Emperor's citadel on Byss, would have noticed the frail manner in which the ruler of known space clutched at his gnarled walking stick and concluded that this man did indeed have an enemy -- death itself. But he would be wrong. Palpatine felt death approaching. It felt like it always did. There was the sense that the very fabric of his tissues would soon be torn apart by the energies he daily channeled through them. He knew that if he were to die in truth, he would be forever lost within the howling chaos of the dark side itself. It would claim him for its own as he had claimed the galaxy. Here on Byss, however, Palpatine could laugh at death. For he sat a stone's throw from his clone vat chamber, where a dozen clones floated suspended in nutrient tanks. He had come to Byss to die.
And to be reborn. The Emperor would erupt in blue energy, leaving a shattered shell behind. Then, thanks to his researches into dark side lore and cloning, he would enter one of his own mature clones. When he opened his new eyes, he would have a strong, young body once more. The dying was painful, and the transition unpleasant to be sure, but a little suffering was a small price to be paid for immortality. The very thought of his new body made his grin widen, and a dreadful cackle emerged from deep within his throat. Most people who heard that laugh immediately found good reasons to be elsewhere.
The Emperor's Grand Vizier, Sate Pestage, was merely used to it. Pestage stood waiting silently at the threshold of the small room, still as a statue. He had come to confer with his master, but he would not emit a whisper until the dark and glorious one acknowledged him. Pestage was a wizened figure of a man with ancient, craggy features. In some ways, he seemed older than the Emperor, and his emaciated form was lost in his voluminous bejeweled robes. Nonetheless, Pestage was tireless in his service to the Emperor, and acted as his personal assistant in all things. He prepared meals, managed affairs, and scheduled the day's events.
Now Pestage simply stared at his master's decrepit form in sorrow. Pestage may have been old, but he had an aura of stubborn health around him. Palpatine radiated only decay. It pained him to see the dark one thus diminished, and Pestage gave silent thanks to the Force that the citizenry of the Empire did not see their sovereign this way. To the rest of the galaxy, Palpatine was a middle aged, charismatic figure with a commanding presence. Of course, this image was the product of the finest holotechnology. When he was thus afflicted by the aging, the Emperor did not make public appearances, trusting the day-to- day running of the Empire to his most trusted advisors, such as Ars Dangor.
Dangor made all the public addresses and Pestage acted as an intermediary in all communications with the Emperor. Only a tiny handful of beings saw Palpatine as he really was, beings such as the Sith Lord and the Emperor's Hand. Palpatine slowly turned to face the Grand Vizier. "What is it, my friend", he said quietly, beckoning to Pestage. The galactic ruler had a voice full of eerie sibilance that would seem appropriate issuing from a sepulcher. That voice, Pestage knew, could change from gleeful satisfaction to blackest menace in the space of a moment. Now it was calm, almost gentle. "Is the proclamation prepared as I have ordered it?" Pestage took a step into the room, robes whispering, and held out an ornamental datapad. On its small screen, a short paragraph was illumined.
His Imperial Majesty has decreed that the current emergency involving armed terrorists spreading death and destruction throughout the galaxy requires the temporary institution of martial law. The regional governors will now have direct control over their territories, allowing them to take the necessary steps to put a swift end to these cowardly and criminal attacks that threaten the families of every law-abiding citizen. For the duration of the crisis, the Imperial Senate will be in recess. Reports that criminal activities have been supported by members of the Senate are being fully investigated. Rest assured that the terrorists will soon be brought to justice, and stability will reign throughout the galaxy.
The Emperor finished reading and nodded in satisfaction. This proclamation would complete his New Order. There would be no "recess", of course. With the disbanding of the Senate, the last vestige of the "Old Republic" would be expunged. No political opposition to the New Order would be possible. The impassioned speeches of Senators such as Leia Organa could influence public opinion, and those voices must be silenced. Mon Mothma had brought this on herself, giving Palpatine the perfect excuse. She had gone too far, openly declaring against him and then orchestrating the theft of the data on project Death Star. Vader was even now on a mission to recover the information. Mothma was beyond reach for now, but at least her accomplices in the Senate could be stripped of power. One day, though, the Emperor mused, he would find her and teach her the true meaning of fear.
The proclamation also formalized the Tarkin doctrine. Now, each system would be kept under control through fear, a potent weapon indeed. The Death Star had been completed in the Horuz system and was very nearly operational; it would soon become the symbol of the New Order. When Palpatine next opened his eyes in the clone vat chamber, they would gaze upon a galaxy totally under Imperial power. "You've done well, Sate Pestage. The phrasing is excellent as usual. Ars Dangor will make this proclamation as soon as possible." The Emperor grinned blackly and handed back the datapad. He moved to sit in his thronelike chair with some difficulty. "I will not make any more decisions until after I am young again." Pestage nodded. Palpatine pointed a crooked finger at him. "I wish nothing to disturb my meditations. I must have peace for the transition. When my time is near, I shall call on you to assist in my preparations."
Sate Pestage bowed deeply. "Yes, my master", he intoned, and quietly left the Emperor's chamber.
Moving through the labyrinthine halls of the Citadel, Pestage reflected that he was a free man for the next several days. His master's meditations were trance-like, and Palpatine neither ate nor carried out any activities, weakening himself to the point where he could simply will the transition. Pestage would help his master to his bed, then leave him in complete isolation for that most private of experiences.
The Grand Vizier did not pretend to understand the workings of the Force, but he knew his life would be empty without the glory of his master to light his universe. Even to be away from him for a few days made Pestage feel a little hollow. Perhaps he would visit the combat arena as a diversion. There was a fight to the death between a Wookiee and a Gundark this afternoon. Perhaps. But he would stay close to the Citadel, just in case.
\*
Palpatine was at one with the Force. His frail physical form was left behind, and his mind roamed the galaxy. His galaxy. He could feel its life and death energies, and through his connection to the dark side, he could savor the strength that was his reward for service. For the Emperor himself was only a servant. All of Palpatine's efforts were directed towards the creation of a galaxy where the emotions of a thousand million worlds would feed the dark side with anger, fear, and aggression. Certainly, he loved the personal power he received as the foremost user of the dark side, and he had every intention of holding that power eternally. Together, he and the dark side would rule every living being.
Fundamentally, the dark side was chaos, entropy, a destructive force ever held in balance against the light side. But the dark side hungered for dominance, and Palpatine gave it a chance. He had no illusions. It would consume him, too, if he let it, but that would never happen. He would serve it for always, and everything else would serve him. Through the Force, the Emperor could communicate with others such as Vader across huge distances, though he sometimes preferred the holotransmitter for the way it created a huge image of his form to intimidate the viewer. Often, he could "see" what was happening where he turned his mental gaze, an ability which had given him a huge advantage during his rise to power.
Now he sent his mind in search of the Death Star, and the familiar presence of his servant, who by now should have recovered the data and returned to the battle station to act as the Emperor's representative. Tarkin had been given a free hand in using the Death Star, but anyone with power needed watching, no matter how loyal. It was with some surprise that he located the Death Star in orbit around the jewel-like world of Alderaan. He could "see" the enormous sphere floating against the starry blackness of space. The Emperor was not in awe of any technology. As he had so often told Vader, the Force was the true power in the universe.
But he did find the Death Star to be beautiful. It was merely a means to an end, but it was a lovely and impressive means to an end. Palpatine sent his mind into the station, reaching out for Vader while keeping his servant unaware of his presence. Vader was in the command center, with Tarkin and the young Senator (former Senator now) Leia Organa. It took an extra moment to focus on Vader, since there seemed to be a strange echo of his mental signature present. The strain of the approaching transition was evidently beginning to take its toll.
Tarkin began to speak, with a crisp superiority. "Princess Leia, before your execution I would like you to be my guest at a ceremony that will make this battle station operational. No star system will dare oppose the Emperor now."
Palpatine had chosen Tarkin well. Another man might have his own power in mind, rather than the Emperor's. But what had this young woman done to deserve execution? Now she spoke back with a haughty defiance evident in her stance and tone. "The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers." Anyone could speak with defiance when they didn't see quite how much trouble they were in; Tarkin was holding back something devastating, and now he decided to show it to her.
He was terribly polite, however. "Not after we demonstrate the power of this station. In a way, you have determined the choice of the planet that'll be destroyed first. Since you are reluctant to provide us with the location of the rebel base, I have chosen to test this station's destructive power ... on your home planet of Alderaan." Palpatine felt the shock in the young woman. So, she was a rebel agent! It was more proof that he was right to disband the Senate; it had become a viper's nest of rebels.
Curiously, he also felt shock in Vader. His servant did not like this development. But what of it? What was the Death Star for, after all? Through the influence of Bail Organa, Alderaan had become a hotbed of sedition. Better to have it gone.
Organa had begun to babble futile protests. "No! Alderaan is peaceful. We have no weapons. You can't possibly-"
But Tarkin let the mask of civility drop. Beneath it was the face of the Imperial War Machine, cold, hard, and merciless. "You would prefer another target? A military target? Then name the system!" He moved menacingly towards her, and she retreated, only to come up against Lord Vader. That strange mind echo of Vader vanished, finally. Tarkin spoke in a low voice. "I grow tired of asking this. So it'll be the last time. Where is the rebel base?"
"Dantooine", Organa seemed to crumble. "They're on Dantooine". "There, you see Lord
Vader, she can be reasonable", Tarkin gloated. "Continue with the operation. You may fire when ready."
"What?",shouted Organa.
Tarkin let his amusement show. "You're far too trusting. Dantooine is far too remote to make an effective demonstration. But don't worry. We will deal with your rebel friends soon enough."
"No!" protested Organa, but it was, of course, too late. Immense beams of force emerged from the Death Star's superlaser, joining to form one awesome shaft that stabbed once at the core of the planet Alderaan. That was when a stunning and wholly unexpected surge of power hit the Emperor like a tidal wave. In his private chamber in the Imperial Citadel on Byss, Emperor Palpatine lay prone on the cold floor, limned in dark fire, his yellow eyes burning like twin suns.
\*
Sate Pestage responded to the biomonitor alarms immediately, crossing the citadel in minutes. He pounded the door release of the meditation chamber, expecting to find his master overcome by disaster, and was completely taken aback to find himself staring into the face of an erect and apparently healthy Palpatine. The Emperor's face was dominated by a savage smile, and he seemed full of vitality. "Don't fear", the Emperor rasped, reaching out a reassuring hand to Pestage. "I am in no danger, but something has happened to me that I have not foreseen! It changes everything - I must understand it."
"Master", Pestage stammered, "it is well that you are safe. When I heard the alarms, I was in conference with Lord Vader. He wishes to speak with you. Should I transfer his signal?"
"No, Sate Pestage." Palpatine seemed highly agitated. "Delay him while I consult the Holocron." He was already heading for his bed chamber, moving with a new strength that amazed the Grand Vizier. Pestage bowed and the door hissed shut. The Emperor reached towards an ornate stand on which rested a smooth cube that softly glowed blue. He took it in his gnarled hands, caressing the ancient writings on its elegantly tooled surface.
The Holocron felt warm and alive. Deep within the object, organic crystals awakened. He felt a light touch on his mind as the Holocron sensed his surface thoughts and summoned the knowledge he required. There was a shimmer in the air, and a hologram of a somewhat grotesque alien with clawlike hands and an exoskeleton appeared above the cube.
"Dark One", the hologram spoke. "Listen to the words of Bodo Baas, the gatekeeper, and learn the story of the Krath sorcerer, Gant Feer. In the bleak days when Ulic Qel-Droma was a leader of the conquering Krath, Feer was one of the dark side adepts under his command. Feer was both depraved and ambitious. It is thought that he alone had access to certain terrible secrets of the power, and he used them without Ulic's knowledge. Feer captured Jedi and ritually murdered them. Each terror-filled death weakened the light side and strengthened the dark side. But one Master escaped to tell the tale, and so we know that Feer boasted of being able to feed on their dying energies, absorbing strength through his link to the dark side."
Bodo Baas paused. It was hard to tell from such a face, but the monster seemed reluctant to speak to him. When it resumed, it seemed to look right at him. "Gant Feer did not live to enjoy his gains. Ulic noticed how powerful his underling had become, and had him assassinated. Feer's secrets died with him. Take heed, Dark One. To take life from the death of others is possible, but it may bring ruin in unforeseen ways." With a steamy green glow, Bodo Baas dissolved.
Palpatine sat silently in thought. As Alderaan was shattered, he had felt a huge surge of power flowing into him through his connection to the dark side. At that moment, he had been unprepared for it, too surprised and stunned to move or think. But he had felt like he could have done anything, anything at all. He thought he knew how to prepare himself for the next time, how to defend himself and turn the power to his own ends. He might even find a way to overcome the problem of his vulnerable clone bodies. An entire world, teeming with life, had died in terror! If the story of Gant Feer was any indication, such an event would have strengthened the dark side.
As one with the Force, Palpatine had been filled with that power, though it had passed through his grasp like a gale force wind. He laughed suddenly as he realized that this gave the Death Star a wonderful new purpose.
Gently, he replaced the Holocron. He sometimes felt that, though it was just a recording device, it was subtly against him. There was the way it called him "dark one", for example. That it had warned him against pursuing this course did not surprise him. It did not matter. There was always a danger. The chance of a victory over his affliction was worth any risk. Palpatine crossed to his personal holonet terminal and activated it. The screen showed the stark black mask of Darth Vader. Vader was alone in his meditation chamber on the Death Star. Palpatine acknowledged him with a slight nod.
With head bowed, Vader spoke in his deep, machine-enhanced voice. "My master, the destruction of Alderaan..." Vader was shaken. "There was a great disturbance in the force. I fear for the consequences of using the Death Star in this way. Destruction on this scale could bring chaos to--"
The Emperor silenced him with a gesture, frowning. As usual, Vader's perception of matters was lacking in insight. The Sith Lord thought of the dark side as the means to bring order to the galaxy, but, here he balked at the means to achieve that end. "You will understand in time, my servant. The destruction of Alderaan has made me stronger. When you find the rebel base, it must be destroyed with the Death Star as I make my transition. Nothing will be beyond my new abilities. I shall rule the galaxy forever, and you shall ever be at my side."
Vader said nothing, but Palpatine knew he would always obey. This fallen Jedi circled the Emperor's evil majesty like a moth around a candle flame. He needed the Emperor's darkness to fill a void inside him, but he could never come too close, lest he be consumed.
"I sense that something else troubles you, my servant", Palpatine urged him.
With his characteristic bluntness, Vader said, "My old master, Kenobi, is here on the Death Star. He has come to face me. When last we met, the advantage was his. I fear he must be the victor again."
Now it was Palpatine's turn to be surprised. Kenobi! That cursed Jedi, still alive. So he had escaped the purge and stayed in hiding for twenty years. Now he dared to show his face. Such audacity must be punished. "Kenobi will meet his long overdue destiny today. Whatever foolish errand has brought him out of his hole will be his last. Together we will crush him, my servant."
Vader radiated trust. "And what of the rebels who came with him? They have the Death
Star plans and they may escape the station."
"Let them go," the
Emperor said with a smirk. "They shall lead the Death Star directly to the rebel base. I have foreseen it. Now go and meet Kenobi. His time has come." Vader bowed deeply as the Emperor terminated the signal.
\*
Vader stood silently in an empty hallway of the Death Star. Dim memories of his defeat at Kenobi's hands sent a chill of foreboding through him. There had been a devastating blow that ripped through his defenses, and a fall into searing Lava. The memory of that agony gave his hate a keen focus. He had been reborn from that death, reforged in that furnace. Now he would pay his old master back in kind.
The old man appeared from a corridor as if flowing from the shadows. Vader's lightsaber was already glowing redly in his hand. "I've been waiting for you Obi-Wan. We meet again at last. The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but the learner, now I am the master."
Kenobi wasted few words, igniting his own saber and taking up a classical offensive position. "Only a master of evil, Darth."
With that, they were upon each other, trading lightening-fast blows. This was an elegant combat between two masters. Each strike was carefully controlled, and the warriors spun with an economy of motion that belied the complexity of their attacks. Kenobi seemed suddenly to be under increasing strain, as though an invisible weight were pressing down upon him. He shook his head and blinked, trying to clear his eyes.
"Your powers are weak, old man," Vader taunted, aware that the promise of the Emperor was being fulfilled. Palpatine was somehow able to cloud Kenobi's mind at this distance. He had grown strong indeed!
Kenobi seemed to come to terms with his fate at that moment, and he serenely said, "You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."
Angered at Kenobi's calmness, Vader struck more wildly, slicing into the corridor walls. The two warriors, failed teacher and fallen Jedi, moved next to blast doors leading to the hangar that housed the captured freighter. Vader could see the guards run to his defense, and he knew that Kenobi would indeed meet his death in moments.
Suddenly, across the hangar, a motley crew of rebels and droids made a break for the freighter, taking advantage of the stormtroopers' distraction. Kenobi spared the rebels a glance, and seemed to come to a decision. He lifted his sword away from Vader's and closed his eyes. Without hesitation, Vader sliced his old master cleanly in half. The empty cloak fell to the deck, followed a second later by the old man's lightsaber.
Vader probed the cloak with a booted foot, conflicting feelings of triumph and fear filling him. A fierce firefight had erupted in the hangar. Vader stood calmly as his troops were cut down. The blast doors shut suddenly and Vader strode to a comm panel to inform Tarkin that Kenobi was dead and that the rebels were to be allowed to escape, since a homing beacon was aboard their ship. There was a roar from behind the doors as the freighter made a fast takeoff and plunged out into space.
Vader picked up Kenobi's lightsaber, and hooked it to his belt. The Emperor would want it for his collection. Kenobi's ending left him feeling strangely hollow. Somehow he sensed, it was not over at all.
\*
Once again, Vader knelt before the image of his master. "It is done, my friend," the Emperor soothed. "Kenobi has become one with the light side forever. His spirit will fade and be gone. There was no possible anchor to hold him. You have done well, my servant. The last of the Jedi died today."
"I saw his face, my master," Vader replied cautiously. "He did not have the look of one who has lost."
"It is nothing," the Emperor assured him. "Merely the false pride of an old man. I shall leave you now, my servant. I must become one with the Force to prepare for my transition. Go now, and do my bidding. When you see me next, I will have triumphed over this frail flesh."
Vader arose, intoning with satisfaction, "The rebellion shall meet the same end as Kenobi."
\*
Palpatine was at one with the Force. His body rested in his bed, beside the softly glowing Holocron. That body had come near to the end of its usefulness. Soon, the destruction of another world would fill him with strength. He would will his own death at that moment, becoming absolutely at one with the dark side, existing as formless energy. He would bring that power to his new body, transforming it into an indestructible thing, the perfect vessel for his new level of dark side mastery.
The main problem with the clones was that they were copies, one step removed from the protecting energies of the force. Thus they were more vulnerable to the depredations of the dark side. But now he saw how he could remake his body, literally rebuilding it out of dark side energy, using the clone as a template. He would be the dark side, and nothing would be able to stop him. His spirit trembled, even as his body lay in a trance. The moment was approaching. Across the galaxy, the Death Star was about to come within firing range of the fourth moon of Yavin, a jungle world that teemed with life.
The rebels had put up a fight, of course, but all they had to throw against the station were a few dozen antiquated one-man snub fighters. It was pathetic. But then, he understood well the weakness of inferiors. Vader was in his own prototype fighter, leading his T.I.E. wingmen against the X-wings, indulging in target practice on the inexperienced rebel pilots.
Tarkin waited confidently in the command center, not even thinking it necessary to send out the swarms of fighters that were his to deploy. It was hard to get a clear sense of what was happening through all the chaotic emotions filling the area. Rebel pilots screamed in terror as Vader's laser bolts inexorably found their targets. Imperial troops milled in confusion as rebel attacks blew apart surface installations. Gunners radiated excited concentration as they wielded their powerful turbolasers against the darting rebel ships. The Emperor savored all these feelings. But on the command deck, calm reigned, and Palpatine found his focus.
Tarkin turned as his aide announced, "Rebel base, thirty seconds and closing." Grim satisfaction radiated from the Grand Moff. Palpatine shared his feeling. This was the fruition of long-cherished plans. The seconds ticked by. Racing across the Death
Star surface, Vader was closing on the last few rebel ships. The Emperor sensed his servant's determination, but knew it would all be academic in a few seconds. "The Death Star has cleared the planet," came the announcement at last.
"You may fire when ready," said Tarkin crisply.
"Commence primary ignition," pronounced Tarkin's aide. The Death Star's prime weapon roared to life, preparing to deal death in an instant. Palpatine readied himself for the transition, opening himself fully to the Force. At that moment, an unexpected spark came alight in the darkness - someone was using the light side of the Force! It was impossible, but unmistakable. The Emperor's mind reeled with sudden confusion, but it was too late to change anything. "Stand by," the words filtered through the energy waves building around Palpatine's body. "Stand by."
The last thing Palpatine sensed was the Grand Moff Tarkin's crystal clear feeling of triumph. Then his body was torn asunder, erupting in cold blue fire. His spirit went plummeting into a fathomless abyss that was everywhere and nowhere. But instead of the incredible strength he expected to feel, there was devastating loss. Something had happened to cast a pall of horrible weakness over the whole of the dark side. His essence wailing in dismay,
Palpatine barely managed to reach his clone body, pouring into it with a desperate lunge. His new eyes shot open, and even as he choked out the nutrient solution that filled his mouth and throat, he reached out with the Force. What he felt, or did not feel, filled him with rage. The Death Star was gone as if it had never existed. His own senses and abilities were noticeably diminished. His new body was young and strong, of course, but he felt like he was touching the Force with gloves on.
He fell to his knees as the vat door slid up and away. The able hands of the clone keeper reached out to steady him, but he pushed them aside. He was trembling with hate. Someone would pay for this outrage! The whole galaxy would pay. And first to suffer would be those who had failed him.
\*
By the time night fell on Byss, the five moons shining beautifully on the ornate towers and sprawling complexes of the Imperial Control Sector, the holonet had delivered the awful details of what had happened at Yavin. The dread Death Star had been vaporized by a single shot from a rebel X-wing. The pilot had hit a thermal exhaust port with a proton torpedo, against impossible odds. The Dark Lord of the Sith was reported missing or dead. The base on Yavin was untouched, and worst of all, news of what had happened was being spread throughout the galaxy by the cursed rebels.
Alliance propaganda touted the genocide at Alderaan and the destruction of the Death Star as final proof of the Empire's tyranny and the Alliance's cause as freedom fighters. This would have little effect on the firmly held inner systems, but the outlying regions might be swayed. The time for retribution was now. There must be a greater military buildup than ever before. Rebellious worlds would be snuffed out. He did not need a Death Star to reduce a planet to rubble. The new Super Star Destroyers would suffice. But Palpatine blamed the defeat at Yavin on the incompetence of his officers. It was fortunate for those who had served on the Death Star that they were dead. There would be a sweeping shakeup in the command structure of the Imperial forces.
He needed someone he could trust implicitly in command. Someone ruthless and absolutely loyal to him. Someone of the highest competence. He needed Darth Vader. But first he would have to find the Dark Lord. Palpatine knew his servant was not dead. He would have felt it. Somehow Vader had survived, perhaps by escaping in his fighter before the station had erupted. So for several hours, the Emperor searched the space around Yavin. The Death Star continued to burn. Vast sections of radioactive wreckage formed a loosely held together orbiting graveyard, littered with incinerated, flash-frozen corpses. Slowly, the gravity of the gas giant would claim the remains, swallowing them without a trace. Not a spark of life remained.
No! There was something, very faint...In a decaying orbit, a crippled fighter with curved wings floated, dark. Within it, Vader was in a hibernation trance, conserving the minimal remaining life support. Immediately, Palpatine contacted his agents in the fleet and directed an assault shuttle from the new Yavin blockade to rescue Vader. Within a few days, Vader would once again stand before him, ready to do his dark bidding throughout the galaxy.
\*
Vader and the Emperor were alone in the throne room on Coruscant. Strong and commanding in his youthful body, Palpatine stood over his kneeling servant. The Sith Lord was full of anger, humiliation, and a sense of failure. He clearly expected to be punished. "Rise, Lord Vader," said the Emperor in ringing tones. Vader rose to regard his master with bowed head. Palpatine was clad in a severe black uniform with the Imperial symbol at his breast, and over that, a flowing cape with a high flaring collar. Vader towered over his master, as if to give the lie to their relative authorities.
The Emperor's face was now unlined and full of regal assurance. Vader's face was forever hidden behind a grotesque mask meant to inspire fear. But it was Vader who felt the fear as he awaited his judgment. "Tell me of what happened," said Palpatine, his voice calm.
"The rebels escaped, leading us to their base as planned. As we began to orbit Yavin, they came out to meet us in one-man fighters. It seemed the last defense of people who fully expected to die. I instructed tactical to do an analysis of their attack. When I saw that their target was the equatorial trench, I realized that these were not suicidal madmen. They were desperate, but they had a plan. I ordered the Grand Moff Tarkin informed and mobilized my personal T.I.E. fighter squadron. Several fighters broke away from the main group and flew into the trench. I pursued them with two wingmen. We destroyed several ships, and one rebel fired on a thermal exhaust port, proving my theory correct, but the shot was too difficult. Tarkin did not send out reinforcements, but by then there were less than five rebel ships left." Vader paused. The source of his shame was to be told next.
The Emperor simply prompted him, "Go on."
"Three X-wings made a final attempt. I destroyed one ship, and the second was damaged and fled. We closed on the leader. He was an uncanny pilot, and my targeting computer lost its lock again and again." Vader stared full into the face of his master. "It was then that I felt the impossible. The pilot was using the Force and it was strong in him. Then I knew that what had seemed folly was great cleverness on the part of the rebels. A Force user, I knew, could make the shot. No wonder the rebels had designed this strategy, with such a one among them. I fired again when I had a lock, but somehow my shots only hit his droid. I felt the presence of Obi-Wan, there at the end, striking a final blow for vengeance. But it was too late. The Death Star was ready to fire. The rebel pilot must have stopped focusing on evasion because all at once my targeting computer had a firm lock. At that instant, as if ordained by the Force, my attack was broken."
Filled with anger, Vader had to stop for a moment. The repetitive sound of his mechanized breathing was the only sign of life within his rigid armor. "That accursed freighter dove at us in a collision course. One wingman was shot down, and the other panicked, striking my ship and ending my defense of the Death Star. Out of control, I spun into space, and what I knew would occur, did. The Death Star was gone and over a million Imperial lives were lost." Vader waited, seeming to prepare himself for his master's response.
The Emperor spoke into the silence to reassure his servant. "I do not blame you for what happened, Lord Vader. If Governor Tarkin had treated the attack with proper seriousness and deployed the Death Star's fighter defenses, that freighter could not have gotten through. The Force user is of little concern. Obi-Wan Kenobi obviously engineered the whole thing. His cowardly death was a distraction to allow his pilot to escape. But that is as far as it goes. This debacle was a freak event. An untrained whelp can be no threat to us, now that we are prepared. There will be a new Death Star, my servant. While it is under construction, I shall assemble the greatest starfleet ever known. It shall contain the first of the new Super Star Destroyers and you shall command it. Your duty will be to hunt down and destroy the rebel alliance. I know you will not fail, my faithful servant." The Emperor smiled benevolently, but Vader was still clearly troubled.
"I have not told you the worst of it. Kenobi's plans ran deep. I told you that I felt the Force in the pilot, but I also knew at that moment that the boy was my son."
Palpatine was incredulous. "Son?! I never knew Skywalker had a son! What treachery is this?"
Vader immediately fell to his knees. "I did not know myself. But I could not be mistaken. I believe Kenobi raised him hoping to present a threat to us."
"Well his plans have failed," the Emperor brooded, glowering at the ebony helmet before him. "He will never become a Jedi. We ensured that when we destroyed Kenobi. He did not foresee his own end. This changes nothing. We shall find and crush the rebels as planned."
"Yes, my master." Vader hesitated. "Even so, I wish to find him andput an end to him. It does not make sense to ignore even a small threat. Surely, this is the lesson of the Death Star."
Palpatine considered Vader. There was some very subtle difference in him, feelings running just beyond Palpatine's reach. But the Dark Lord had been through a great deal recently. It was surely only the strain affecting him. Palpatine spoke firmly, "Young Skywalker, if that is his name, can be no threat to our might. But he is no doubt with the rebels, and if you wish to destroy him, you may do so when you crush the alliance. Now go, and work my will."
Vader arose and left, black cape billowing. Palpatine put his momentary unease aside. He could trust Vader implicitly, for Vader was entirely his, body and soul. The spirit of Anakin Skywalker was as lost as the very limbs of the cyborged giant who went out to plan the Empire's revenge.
\*
Everything proceeded according to the Emperor's design, as he was so fond of saying. As three swift years passed, the galaxy felt the full might of the Empire. Vader's starfleet pursued the rebels across the galaxy, never giving them a chance to establish a permanent base. Rebellious worlds were swiftly punished and their resources fed into the Imperial war machine. Palpatine's vision for the galaxy was becoming a reality. Vader seemed obsessed with finding young Skywalker, but that did not seem to interfere with his search for the main alliance forces. The new Death Star took shape around the forest moon of Endor.
Then, one day, Vader sent news that he had located the main rebel base on Hoth, and was proceeding with his full armada against it. The clever rebels received a lucky break, however, when the fleet admiral brought the entire fleet out of hyperspace too close to Hoth. Had the fleet remained out of scanner range, it could have laid siege to the entire system and captured every last rebel. Instead, the rebels were alerted and had time to raise a planetary shield that Admiral Ozzel had not guessed they possessed.
The end result was a needless and costly ground battle. Sacrificing many lives in a delaying action, the Alliance managed to allow the escape of its command group. It was a rout, but it was not, frustratingly, a final victory for Vader. Palpatine received reports that Lord Vader had committed the entire fleet to the capture of one rebel ship, the freighter that had ended his defense of the first Death Star. His obsession had finally gotten the better of him.
There was a scattered, demoralized, and defeated remnant of the Alliance out there among the stars, and the time to finish them was now. There was no time for foolish hunting games. The Emperor stalked through the corridors of the palace, in full view of his court. His body had continued to age, after all, and it seemed to him that the decay might even have become faster this time. But this "age" was the one by which he was known to the galaxy, and so he could make public appearances, denouncing the terrorist Alliance and justifying the military buildup of the Empire.
In a way, public opinion was a thing of the past, irrelevant. But he liked to maintain appearances. It pleased him to let his people see him and know exactly who their master was. Palpatine strode into the main communications room, a hive of activity. Imperial Navy officers eyed him expectantly. They were angered over Lord Vader's summary executions, and felt that the Dark Lord was completely out of control. To mollify them, Palpatine had decided to reprimand Vader in public to avoid a mutiny. As he entered, the officers all knelt to him, bowing their heads. A nervous technician worked the communications station, and began the job of contacting the Executor. His fingers stumbled on the switches and he glanced up, sweating, expecting a reprimand.
But no one was watching him. All eyes were on the Emperor, who had silently collapsed onto the gleaming deck, to the open-mouthed shock of the entire gathering.
\*
Sate Pestage tended to his master in the Imperial medical center, of which an entire wing had been cleared to treat the mysterious affliction that had overtaken the Emperor. The doctors were baffled when they were told that they would not be needed, but they were easily dealt with, and rumor control would soon have the matter in hand. Pestage knew that his master was in a vision trance. It had happened before in his presence, and he knew that all the Emperor needed was rest and privacy. Palpatine lay on a bed, occasionally whispering, eyes shut, his mind clearly elsewhere. This time, though,
Pestage found himself disturbed. He knew his master well, and impossible as it may have seemed, Palpatine was afraid of what he was "seeing." A young man stood before the Emperor, clad in black. It was the son of Skywalker. The Force was with him, and he had become a Jedi. He regarded Palpatine with defiance.
The Emperor was falling. He was filled with fear and surprise, and screamed all the way down. His body was ripped asunder by a collision with gigantic energy discharges. His life force was swallowed into the dark side, but this time, it was different. There was no immediate rebirth, only a terrifying chaos with no end...
Somehow, these two images were linked, a part of the same possible future. And Palpatine was very afraid. The Emperor's eyes flew open, startling Sate Pestage. The Grand Vizier had begun to sputter an inquiry as to his master's state when Palpatine cut him off. "Contact the Executor immediately. Send the signal to my own chamber. I require a conference with Lord Vader." And that was that. Without another word, Palpatine practically ran from the room, leaving Sate Pestage gaping.
\*
"What is thy bidding, my master?" asked Vader, on bended knee. Before him was an enormous hologram of his master's hooded face.
"There is a great disturbance in the Force," said Palpatine.
Vader merely responded, "I have felt it."
Palpatine sternly stated, "We have a new enemy. Luke Skywalker."
So, his dark master had finally come to understand. Perhaps the great tremor in the Force had finally convinced him. Something important had happened while his forces had been sifting through the asteroid field for the Millennium Falcon. What it was, he didn't know, but all at once, his son had become significant to the Emperor. Respectfully, he intoned, "Yes, my master."
"He could destroy us," said Palpatine.
Vader tried to hide his surprise. His master must feel that his son was a threat indeed! Vader had, for three years, cherished hidden plans deep inside him, plans for his son. He knew he must downplay the boy's importance. "He's just a boy. Obi-Wan can no longer help him."
But the Emperor was adamant. "The Force is strong with him. The son of Skywalker must not become a Jedi."
Vader knew this meant death for his son. The son of Skywalker. His master would not even acknowledge the boy as Vader's own, believing that when Anakin had "died," every last vestige of the man was gone from Darth Vader. But something did remain, something he himself did not fully understand. He wanted his son to live, and rejoin him. Now Vader played his hand. "If he could be turned, he would become a powerful ally."
To his surprise, the Emperor agreed. "Yes. Yes. He would be a great asset. Can it be done?"
"He will join us, or die, my master." Vader felt relief as the hologram faded. He did not understand why the Emperor suddenly feared that his son might become a Jedi. Could the boy have found a master? It did not matter. He would be the boy's master. He would show his son the true nature of the Force. He stood and moved to the doorway. There was much to be done.
\*
Palpatine sat in his throne, pensive. He wondered what the outcome of their new course would be. He had agreed to Vader's suggestion because there had been a third vision in his trance. He had seen Luke Skywalker kneel before him, pledging servitude. My father's destiny is my own. Vader had been absent in the vision. Yes, perhaps it was for the best. Vader had become... uncertain, of late. It may be time to replace him, with another Skywalker. Perhaps this other possible future would negate the other two. The strange feeling was that he did not know. It excited him, this uncertainty. He had a new enemy, for the first time in years. He looked forward to their meeting. There was much to be made ready for that meeting. Much to be done.
Thinking upon it, the Emperor laughed.
2
The Hand of Fate
Emperor Palpatine, master of the dark side of the Force, made no effort to hide his satisfaction as he strode across the throne room floor towards the two combatants. One of them was Luke Skywalker, a young man clad in austere black. He was holding his humming lightsaber blade at the throat of his vanquished enemy, Lord Darth Vader. Luke had given in to his anger at last, and he was astonished at how easily he had beaten the Dark Lord. Luke panted, barely containing his rage as he warily watched the approaching Emperor. The blade in his hand drifted perilously close to Vader's gasping mask. The once mighty Sith Lord was reduced to abject terror, trying in vain to crawl away from Luke. Luke saw Palpatine through a haze of anger.
The Emperor was a surprisingly small man, hunched with age and clasping his wrinkled hands together. "Good!" Palpatine said, his withered features stamped with lust. "Your hate has made you powerful. Now, fulfill your destiny and take Lord Vader's place at my side!"
Luke looked at the fallen Sith Lord, once his most deadly foe, now completely at his mercy. He looked at his prosthetic right hand, gloved in black, and remembered that Vader had cut his real hand off when they last met. Not only that, Vader had also tortured his friends and delivered one of them to the ruthless crime lord, Jabba the Hutt, perhaps never to be seen again. And those acts barely began to scratch the surface of Vader's black deeds.
If he put an end to this evil being, he would only be giving the galaxy the justice it cried out for. Luke suddenly recalled another man who had once been helpless before a lightsaber blade, and what Vader had done to him. Then he made the decision that felt right and just. He reversed his grip on the lightsaber he had made with his own hands and swept it through the torso of the Dark Lord, crying "For Ben Kenobi!" Vader died screaming, cut in half in a heap of seared gore. Luke turned his back on the smoking corpse and faced the Emperor.
Palpatine was nearly beside himself with glee. "Well done, my young apprentice! Now, come and kneel to me, and pledge your loyalty." Luke didn't move. The Emperor smiled at Luke, but it was the smile of a crafty predator. "You cannot turn back, now, young Skywalker," he chided Luke. He held out a wasted hand, beckoning. "I shall raise you to such heights of power that your name shall forever eclipse the name of Darth Vader." Luke walked over to him, and with a grim set to his features, knelt deliberately at the Emperor's feet.
"Lord Vader's destiny is my own," Luke said with finality. Without warning, Luke moved. "Now you die!" Luke shouted, stabbing upward with his lightsaber at Palpatine's defenseless, robed body. The bright green blade did not find its mark, however. Even as the thrust began, the saber was deactivated by a proximity sensor hidden on the Emperor's person. The pommel of Luke's weapon thudded ineffectually against the Emperor's chest, and the galactic ruler lurched backwards. Palpatine saw a flash of crimson behind Luke, then the point of a force pike bloomed from Luke's chest. Luke was lifted from the floor, impaled on the long weapon of a hulking Imperial guard. Luke had known he would not leave the throne room alive, but to have failed in his one chance to kill the Emperor...it was too much despair to bear. Drowning in his pain, Luke was dimly aware that his lightsaber had returned to life. Knowing death was near, and desperate to end his physical and mental torment, he managed to turn the weapon onto himself. The red robed guard let the room's second corpse slide from his force pike and slump to the floor. He regarded his Emperor silently.
Palpatine stared thoughtfully at Luke's body for a long time. Then, noticing the guard, he dismissed him distractedly. The bland voice of Sate Pestage, the Emperor's Grand Vizier, interrupted Palpatine's introspection. "My condolences, master, on the loss of your servant." Palpatine looked at Pestage bemusedly, searching his timeworn face for a hint of the humor he thought might be behind the statement. There was nothing but a wizened serenity in Pestage's expression.
Pestage knew his master was experiencing a period of great stress, and he meant his presence to be soothing. Therefore it was with relief that he saw Palpatine calmly beckon to him and begin walking. Together, they went out into the halls of the Imperial citadel. They met no other person as they strode along in silence, for this part of the citadel was the Emperor's private sanctuary. There were times when Pestage worried a great deal about his master. Like the day, four months ago, when Palpatine had collapsed into a vision trance in front of most of the fleet Admirals. The glorious one had foreseen his own death, and despite his reliable means of overcoming that particular affliction, he had been afraid. Seeing fear in his master had shaken Pestage.
Palpatine was the foundation on which he built his life. He could not imagine what he would do if that foundation were taken away. Equally worrisome was the Emperor's accelerated physical decay as the ravages of the dark side became ever more harsh. For Palpatine was demanding more of the Force than ever before. Pestage had seen his master spend a great deal of time in his meditation chamber, trying, he suspected, to see the future. This ability awed Pestage, but for once, it did not seem to be working. Palpatine always emerged in a rage, flailing his fists and cursing his 'blindness'. He exerted more and more power, and his apparently futile efforts took a fearsome toll on his body. Only once had Palpatine given him any explanation, and Pestage had not fully understood. A great nexus was coming, the glorious one had told him, and the strands of probability were too much in flux to follow. But whatever barriers there were did not stop Palpatine from trying, and Pestage had begun to wonder if his Emperor would actually destroy himself.
Then, one day, Vader had returned with a prize. The Emperor had received his servant with a curious coldness, but once he discovered what the Sith Lord had brought, Palpatine had seemed rejuvenated. The prize had set in motion a series of frenzied preparations, as the Emperor immediately saw in it another means of gaining the information he sought - the probable outcome of his meeting with Luke Skywalker.
The prize had also made possible the contents of the room that they now entered. It was a large chamber, filled with row upon row of man-size tanks. The Emperor moved to the nearest one and wiped away the moisture beading on its glass surface. He stared at the face behind the glass with a searching intensity, but its eyes remained closed, its hair floating in the gentle currents of the nutrient bath. Sate Pestage suppressed a shiver. It was the face of Luke Skywalker. The Constable of Homunculi, Rollo Mon, stepped out of the shadows, his enormous head ornament casting bizarre shadows in the sharp green light illuminating the entryway. The Emperor turned to him, his hand still resting on the tank. "Prepare him," commanded Palpatine.
\*
Three months earlier, Darth Vader was striding through the nearly empty halls of cloud city. Behind him, struggling to keep up, was a surgeon droid clutching a foot long cylindrical tank. They hurried past vacated apartments and hollow, silent casinos. Only stormtroopers marked their passage by saluting, their rifles held casually due to the lack of any threat. For the once thriving luxury resort was now in the hands of the Empire. Any citizens not able to evacuate in the exodus initiated by Baron-Administrator turned rebel Lando Calrissian were rounded up and forcibly deported. Those with questionable pasts had gone to Imperial prisons, as had some of the innocent, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Vader and the droid moved quickly into the lower levels of the city. The graceful sculptures and rich decor gave way to the gritty, exposed machinery of the Tibanna gas mining facility. Here and there, the squat, grotesque Ugnaughts scurried about, continuing the task of running the enormous machines. For them, one human master was much the same as any other, provided they were paid and not mistreated. Now the valuable gas, useful for antigrav devices and blasters, would go to the Empire, that was all.
Finally, the Sith Lord reached the bottom of Cloud City and entered a small control room. Vader stepped through a cloud of steam, suddenly appearing in front of Lieutenant Pralt and his work detail. Pralt backed away before he could catch himself as the huge armored figure loomed up before him like a sculpted gargoyle. "Report, Lieutenant," demanded Vader.
"My Lord," the officer stammered, straightening himself. Pralt knew of Vader's reputation for anger, and he feared to give the Dark Lord even partial bad news. But over the past few days, a strange story had circulated through the ranks. A week ago, when the rebels had escaped both Cloud City and the Executor, Vader had failed to execute Admiral Piett, or anybody else. Instead, he had gone to meditate in his private chamber for three days. When he emerged, he had ordered a work detail to search the lower levels of the Cloud City reactor shaft for an unspecified object belonging to the rebel, Luke Skywalker. Rumor had it that the rebel had faced Vader high above and survived. His bravery bolstered by these tales, Pralt swallowed once and steadily reported, "My Lord, we have located what seems to be a lightsaber, but it lies in a rather difficult location." At least, Pralt assumed it was one of the old Jedi weapons. Its resemblance to the object hanging at Vader's belt gave the Lieutenant a bit of confidence.
Vader was already moving past him. "Show me," he commanded in a deep, mechanically amplified voice that was full of a surprising eagerness. Pralt signaled his men and the team led Vader and the silent droid into a narrow access corridor.
"Brace yourself, my Lord," Pralt warned as he opened the heavy door at the far end. Instantly, fierce winds swept into the tiny hallway, challenging the search team to stay on their feet. Vader stepped out onto the balcony beyond as if in total calm. Above the Dark Lord towered the enormous reactor shaft, a breathtaking open space glittering with distant lights. Below him, a mere hundred feet down, was the great sphere that terminated the shaft. It was studded with pressure release hatches that opened in response to the strong, shifting winds that coursed through the shaft.
Vader stared at them as they rhythmically opened and closed, giving transient views of the bottomless drop to Bespin. Then, his electronically enhanced vision picked it out. Lying at the bottom of the giant bowl, between two restlessly opening hatches, was a lightsaber. Wrapped tightly around the weapon was a severed human hand. Vader could only attribute the miracle before him to the workings of the Force. While in meditation, he had been disturbed by thoughts of the hand. He had had a strong feeling that it still existed, and that the Emperor would want it. So he had come in search of it, trusting in the Force, and there it was. But it was not the pathetic bit of flesh that quickened Vader's pulse - it was the silvery pommel of the old Jedi weapon clutched in the stiff fingers. His lightsaber. Returned to him after some twenty years. It gleamed invitingly from below, somehow calling to him.
Pralt's voice broke into his fascinated contemplation, and Vader was startled to find that he had been leaning partly over the railing towards his prize. "My Lord," Pralt shouted, shivering in the cold and struggling to be heard over the howling of the wind, "if that is what you seek, I doubt we could send a man down there to get it. It would be too dangerous. Any attempt to retrieve the object could dislodge it and send it out one of those hatches." Vader didn't respond immediately.
Turning away from Pralt, he raised his arms to the immensity of the shaft. "It will be your good fortune, Lieutenant, to witness a demonstration of the true power in the universe," Vader said, managing somehow to be heard over the wind. Pralt felt nothing at first, then his skin began to crawl. The winds in the reactor shaft had begun to diminish. Pralt's men backed away nervously, but Pralt stood rooted to the spot. Slowly, inexorably, the swirling air quieted, then became still. One by one, the pressure release hatches below hissed to a close, until they were all shut. Vader gestured again, holding out a hand towards the lightsaber below, and it rose up to him majestically, settling gently into his outstretched palm.
Pralt shuddered in disgust to see the severed hand up close; its cauterized stump of a wrist and its ice-covered fingers clutching the saber even in death made Pralt unconsciously reach for his own right hand, as if to make sure it was still attached. Vader gestured to the surgeon droid and it clumped up, holding its cylindrical vat. The droid pressed a switch on the container and the top hissed open. Vader pulled the hand from the saber and immersed it in the reddish Bacta solution. He attached the saber to his belt, and turned to Lieutenant Pralt. "Good work, Lieutenant," he said simply. Then Vader strode away, the droid in tow, leaving Pralt and his men gaping. They stood there for a whole minute, not moving, until finally the chill winds began to return, urging the search team back into the warmth of the corridors.
\*
Alone in medstation seventy of the Executor, surgical droid 2-1BV had finished the treatment of the last blaster wounds from the Bespin battle. The mighty Super Star Destroyer was moving away from the gas giant and aiming itself at Coruscant, the dark heart of the Empire, the Imperial throneworld. Beevee turned to the wall stasis unit where the hand of the human rebel was stored. With no other commands to obey at the moment, he clumped over to the unit and opened it. Removing the Bacta cylinder, Beevee examined the readouts on the container. The hand was perfectly preserved. It had been frozen during its stay in the reactor shaft, and the Bacta was acting to keep the tissue in a healthy state. In fact, Beevee noted clinically, the hand could even be reattached to the original owner with little loss of function, were he available. But no doubt the owner would have a prosthetic replacement by now. A droid hand, of sorts. Beevee's photoreceptors regarded his own hand. It was so very different from the human hand in the tank, consisting of three grasping claws at the end of a stark metal rod. It enabled him to manipulate sophisticated surgical instruments and heal the wounds incurred by the vulnerable organics. Once, on a previous assignment, the old droid had seen two young human lovers sneak into his infirmary. They had not even noticed him as he stood motionless among the diagnostic equipment. They had done many things with their hands that Beevee knew he could never do.
His cold, sharp edges could never gently caress a soft cheek or smooth hair away from a warm forehead. He wondered if the rebel whose hand this was did such things with a human female. He wondered if there had been much pain when the hand was cut off. Pain was something Beevee clinically responded to, but it was not something he could feel himself. If a lightsaber took his hand off, he would merely have impaired surgical capacities. Then his manipulator would be replaced. Like the rebel's hand. He wondered if the rebel's new hand could feel the skin of another person's face. Internal sensors warned him of the approach of a new patient, a captain who had broken an ankle by tripping int o a service well. Beevee quietly replaced the Bacta tank and didn't give it another thought as he prepared his instruments for the simple operation. He didn't feel it when, a moment later, the Executor made the jump to hyperspace.
\*
Emperor Palpatine was at one with the Force. Lines of probability stretched out before him as he turned his mind towards the future. The farther he looked, the more the lines branched and the more they tended to flicker or fade. The focus of his attention lay on a very strong line that led to a confusing jumble resembling a tangled ball of twine that kept changing shape. It was the nexus of fates in which he met Luke Skywalker. The fates of himself, Skywalker and Vader were tied up there, and he absolutely could not see whether any of their lives continued past that point. He knew the meeting was inevitable. It seemed to Palpatine that Skywalker's path met Vader's first, and then both joined his own at the nexus. But when the Emperor tried to penetrate that nexus, the awful result was always the same.
It was the mental equivalent of leaping into a whirlpool. He was swiftly rendered helpless, trapped in a chaotic storm of visions. They went hurtling past his mind's eye, leaving only fleeting impressions.
A black-clad Skywalker called his lightsaber to his hand and with a lightening move, burned Palpatine's head from his shoulders...
A passive Skywalker made no move to ignite his lightsaber as Vader moved in. Vader was saying, "If you will not fight, then you will meet your destiny." Luke did not resist as Vader cut his son down...
Vader and Skywalker suddenly put aside their fierce duel and marched towards the Emperor, seated defenseless on his throne. As one, they treacherously murdered Palpatine...
Vader was dead, killed by the Emperor himself when the Dark Lord had encouraged Luke to try to kill the Emperor. Now Palpatine was hurling Force lightning at Skywalker too, leaving the boy writhing in agony, begging to serve him...
Skywalker was holding his blade at Vader's throat, hate filling his face, dark side power coursing through him, ready to commit patricide...
The variations were endless. The Emperor's mind was assaulted by the nexus, threatening him with destruction. If he did not break out of it, in mere moments, his consciousness would be pulled in a thousand directions at once. It took even more power than the last time, but Palpatine managed to win free, awakening with a sickening spinning sensation on the floor of his meditation chamber. Fear and anger coursed through him. It was impossible for him to see the shape of things to come, but he required absolutely to know. So much was at stake - everything he had created so far. His Empire. Palpatine clenched his fists, gazing ruefully at the progressing ruin of his flesh. He could not continue these ordeals and survive. He doubted that he could rescue his consciousness from that nexus and make it into a new clone, were he to perish from the stress it caused him.
Suddenly a call signal demanded his attention. He stood painfully and moved to his terminal. He saw that the Executor had returned and was in orbit around Coruscant. Vader wanted to have an audience with him.
Vader. The Emperor's anger burned even more darkly. Yes. He would see Vader. And learn what the traitor had to say for himself.
\*
Sitting on his throne awaiting Vader's arrival, the Emperor knew he had finally come to regret the day he had made "Lord Vader". When Anakin Skywalker had turned to the dark side, so long ago, that had been well. Palpatine had thought he would be one of the most powerful dark side adepts among his secret disciples. But just when Anakin had begun to discover his power, he had foolishly faced his old teacher, Kenobi, and had wound up so grievously wounded that the only way to keep him alive was to cyborg him.
At the Emperor's order, his limbs were replaced, increasing his stature considerably. He was encased within an armored life support system that compensated for the loss of his lungs. An ancient order of dark side monks, the Sith, had taken Anakin into their care, helping him to recover and adjust to his new body. They had seen him as the fulfillment of an old prophecy, and they created a fearsome mask that resembled the war helm of their greatest legendary hero. Anakin was given a new name and raised to leadership of their order.
True to the prophecy, Darth Vader had led the Sith to new heights. When they took him in, they had been a monastic order living in seclusion, hiding from the Jedi, and lamenting their lost glory. Vader gave them back their splendor, however briefly. At the Emperor's command, he led them to emerge and hunt down the Jedi. The Jedi were no easy prey, and all of the Sith except Vader were destroyed. With nowhere to go, Vader had become the Emperor's servant. That was when Palpatine's troubles began.
Vader had been a Skywalker once, and too many of the traits of that line remained in him. A fierce individuality, a quickness to anger, a certain recklessness, and very great strength in the Force all combined to make a servant of unquestionable value but perhaps too much power. Palpatine had used Vader as his foremost agent. Vader eventually became the most visible symbol of the Empire. His mask, his stature, his voice, and his powers presented an image that struck fear into most people. They obeyed him, and thus obeyed Palpatine. They did not fear their Emperor, though in reality, they most certainly should have.
In Vader, the Emperor had an instrument through which he could project something of his true self, while retaining an image of relative benevolence for himself. Also, Palpatine admitted to himself, it was simply satisfying to have beside him a living symbol of his victory over the Jedi. Anakin had been one of the brightest and the best of the Jedi, and now here he was, twisted and corrupted, every last trace of goodness eradicated from him. As Vader, he was strong in the Force, but he kneeled to Palpatine, debasing himself and groveling at his master's displeasure, and taking his only sustenance from his master's praise. Yes, it was better than having a dead Jedi, better by far.
A few years ago, the Emperor had seen the first signs that all was not well with Vader. When Vader had met and killed his old teacher, then discovered he had a son, old, long unfelt connections to the past had stirred in him. It became worse when Vader was given command of the fleet and he used it to indulge his obsession with finding his son. At the time, Palpatine had swallowed his doubts, and perhaps that was a mistake. For, when Vader had finally caught up with his son, his true colors had shown at last. The Emperor had agreed to try to turn Luke Skywalker, and Vader had agreed to be the one to do it, or else kill the boy. Vader laid a complicated trap, placing Luke's friends in danger, knowing that the boy would feel their pain and come to their rescue. It worked perfectly, and before long, the boy, full of bravado, faced his father with ignited lightsaber. As he had done so many times before, Palpatine had used the Force to watch his servant. He was keen to take the measure of this boy who inexplicably figured so strongly in his own destiny.
As the battle unfolded, Vader tested the boy, urging him to draw power from the dark side by encouraging the emotions that would open him to it. The boy resisted, but by the time he realized he was out of his depth, it was too late for him. That fierce Skywalker determination kept him fighting on, though Vader was by far his superior. Palpatine had been certain that Vader would be forced to kill the boy. The Dark lord had bludgeoned his way through Luke's defenses and sliced off his right hand. He cornered Luke, leaving no way out but to turn or die. Then had come the moment that Palpatine even now recalled with dismay and rage. The moment of betrayal. There is no escape, Vader had told Luke, Don't make me destroy you. You do not yet realize your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy. Treachery!
Their combined strength! By the dark side, it would never be. Vader belonged to him! Skywalker was his! It would never be. But betrayal had followed treachery. Vader revealed his identity, and although the boy reacted with anguished disbelief, Palpatine had thought he felt the assertion touch something deep inside Skywalker. Vader had felt it, too. Search your feelings. You know it to be true. Luke. You can destroy the Emperor. He has foreseen this. It is your destiny. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son.
Remembering the words, Palpatine began to shiver with anger. Indeed, his visions of Skywalker's threat to him had had opened Vader's eyes to the possibility of Palpatine's vulnerability. But there was much to the notion of "destiny" that Vader did not grasp. He would learn that to covet Palpatine's power was to earn death. From the moment of that betrayal, the Emperor had begun to plot the destruction of Darth Vader. His plan had a great symmetry to it. He would mold events such that one Skywalker would kill the other, and in that act, turn to the dark side and replace him at Palpatine's side. He would use Vader's great hope as the very instrument of his murder, and corrupt the son as he had corrupted the father. It was the perfect destiny for both of them. Except that nothing was certain anymore. The boy was strong, and he had made his servant strong. It would be a risky endeavor.
After long decades of being above risk, the Emperor did not like it at all. The great throne room doors opened, and Vader strode in, preceded by Sate Pestage, flanked by six Imperial guards, and followed by, of all things, a droid. Vader completed the long walk to the throne, then knelt at the Emperor's feet. This was a ceremonial audience, and Pestage was wearing full dress regalia. Pestage formally announced the presence of the Lord Darth Vader and his request to report to his majesty, the Emperor. Palpatine had designed this formal meeting to remind Vader of his place, and besides, the formality helped Palpatine to mask the anger he felt towards Vader. It would not do to let Vader know how he felt before the moment of his revenge. Even so, Palpatine waited a full minute before acknowledging Vader with a cold sounding, "Rise, and report on the events at Bespin."
Vader stood. If he was put off by this ceremony, he did not show it. Instead, he went along with it. He handed a datapad to Sate Pestage. "Your majesty," Vader intoned, "I have confronted and fought the young rebel Force user, Luke Skywalker. I found him to be formidable, but his skills were undeveloped. He has enhanced physical abilities, the power to levitate objects, and reasonable skill with a lightsaber, but little else. What success he had in eluding me was due to a certain raw talent, perhaps inborn in him, as well as considerable good fortune. He resisted my attempts to turn him to the dark side. Kenobi must have prepared him for this before he died. The battle was ultimately one-sided, and when he was pressed to the last, he chose to leap to his death. His companions in the Millennium Falcon rescued him, and his current location is unknown. I am able to resume my search, but first I have brought something to you, your majesty. During the battle, Skywalker lost his right hand. I have recovered it for you. The Force gave me a sense of its importance." He waved a black gloved hand, and the medical droid, Beevee, came forward with the Bacta tank.
Palpatine had been stewing while listening, his anger growing hotter as Vader presented an account that omitted his betrayal. He was tempted to accuse Vader on the spot, but when he saw the hand, his rage evaporated. Here was an opportunity indeed - one that could tell him the future in a safe way. The Emperor actually smiled. "Well done, Lord Vader. The hand will be very useful indeed! But now I wish you to suspend your search for young Skywalker. Your new orders are to assemble as much of the fleet as possible at the new Death Star at Endor. Then you will oversee the final stages of construction. Moff Jerjerrod must be encouraged to complete the station on schedule. At the very least, the superlaser must be ready when I arrive at the station. Go now, and do my bidding." Vader bowed deeply, and left.
The Emperor sensed his frustration at the orders. Beevee remained behind holding the tank. The droid looked intimidated by its surroundings. Palpatine turned to Sate Pestage. "Summon the Constable of Homunculi and Ars Dangor immediately. Return this droid to the command ship and bring the hand to the clone vat chamber. I shall wait for you in the conference room." With that, Palpatine left the room, leaning on his twisted cane. Beevee was relieved to have the hand taken from him, and as he was escorted from the throneroom, he reflected that he was glad he was not a protocol droid. There was much to human interactions that quite bewildered him.
\*
The Emperor gestured for Rollo Mon to take a seat at the large table where he, Ars Dangor, and Sate Pestage were gathered. Rollo Mon bowed to the other men at the table politely. He rarely saw them, as he was reclusive and habitually immersed himself in his work. Sate Pestage was a stick thin man who bore the weight of his uncounted years with a spry endurance. He wore a roomy cassock that glittered with rare gems from his homeworld, and he was quite lost in the gaudy garment. Its wealthy appearance contrasted with Pestage's face, which had the stamp of an ascetic on its weathered features. He looked utterly at peace. Ars Dangor, the Emperor's advisor, looked almost like a mirror image of Palpatine.
Unlike most of the advisors, Dangor chose to garb himself in the fashion of the Emperor himself; stark black robes with a deep hood. Dangor had that hood removed now, and his widely spaced eyes gave his hot stare a disconcerting aspect. He wore a constant leer on his thin lips, and he had a towering reputation for ruthlessness. While Pestage dealt with Palpatine's personal matters and acted as an intermediary in communications, Dangor made public addresses and ran the Empire day to day. Dangor dealt with all the "little pictures" while Palpatine dealt with the "big picture", and Pestage dealt with Palpatine.
Rollo Mon himself was a short man who compensated for his lack of height with an almost absurd head ornament that nearly doubled his stature. He smiled nervously with his uneven teeth and sat down abruptly, unsure of social graces. When all were seated, Palpatine rose. He was looking very old, and Rollo Mon well understood the reason. But the Emperor's eyes glittered with enthusiasm as he began to outline the reason for their gathering. "My friends, welcome. Lord Vader has brought us the means to clone our elusive enemy, Luke Skywalker. The Force has shown me that I will confront him soon, but the outcome remains unclear. I am sure you can appreciate the need for more information." The other three men murmured their agreement. Dangor displayed agitation at the mere mention of Skywalker's name, and Rollo Mon leaned forward in excitement, pleased at the notion of a new challenge. Looking at Rollo Mon, the Emperor continued, "I wish to clone Skywalker and test him, to see what he will most likely do when he comes before me. I need the clones soon. Can it be done?"
The Constable was in his element. "Yes, your majesty. If you don't need the clones to be stable long term, the standard growth term of one year can be shortened to as little as two months. The clones should remain sane for long enough to test them. Of course, they won't really be this Skywalker. We'll have to implant them with false memories if they are to behave realistically. Recent advances in memory conditioning allow coherent experience construction to be carried out while the clone is still in the tertiary growth phase, so that the decanted product is already identity established. The margin for error depends on the quality of the information we possess on the subject -" Rollo Mon realized he had left his seat and was pacing. Embarrassed, he took his seat and concluded quietly, "What background do we have available?"
The Emperor turned to Ars Dangor, who held up a datapad. "Here are the ISB reports on Luke Skywalker, collected from the battle of Yavin to the present. Our agents have been busy, and there is much information here. But the basic outline of what we know may be summarized as follows." Dangor activated a holographic display above the table. The identimage of Luke Skywalker, a moisture farmer of the rim world, Tatooine, shimmered into view. "The subject grew up on Tatooine, in the care of Owen and Beru Lars. Records are poor on such worlds, but we are sure they were not really related to him. It is very likely that the old Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was also in hiding on Tatooine, and that he helped to raise Skywalker. Kenobi must have instructed the boy in the ways of the Force. Skywalker is not a common name, and is believed that his actual father was the famed Jedi, Anakin Skywalker. Since Kenobi and Anakin were close friends, it is easy to imagine Anakin giving Luke into Kenobi's care before his death some twenty years ago. The subject would then have an inborn aptitude for the Force, which must have been nurtured over the years by Kenobi."
Dangor looked at Palpatine, whose face was unreadable. He suspected that the Emperor already knew far more about Skywalker than the ISB ever would. "Shortly before the battle of Yavin," Dangor continued, "two events occurred that may have strongly impacted the subject's personality and motivations. First, Lord Vader's search team killed the Lars family. Second, Vader killed Kenobi right in front of Skywalker. Therefore the subject is probably revenge motivated, especially if you take into account an unverified report that the subject's childhood friend, one Biggs Darklighter, was killed during the battle of Yavin. After the battle, Skywalker was a hero in the rebellion. His feat in destroying the Death Star probably gives him an exaggerated view of his own abilities. The death of the Jedi, Kenobi, left the subject without a mentor, so it is probable that his skills have not greatly improved since then. It is well known that Lord Vader has an obsession with hunting Skywalker down, probably to avenge his defeat at the Death Star. It was Lord Vader's conviction that Skywalker was present on Hoth, but his whereabouts were not confirmed until several months later, when Lord Vader confronted him on Cloud City. The subject escaped and remains at large. He is viewed as a significant threat due to his Force skills and his probable vengeance goals. Personally, I think his importance is exaggerated. With all due respect, your majesty, you and Lord Vader have destroyed Jedi masters in the past. Why is so much attention being devoted to this young man?"
The Emperor's frown was like a knife edge. "I know him to be a threat, Ars Dangor. You know nothing of the workings of the Force. Events are in motion which have been predestined. Where the Force is concerned, a man's own power is as nothing. When I face Skywalker, he will be a Jedi. So long as the Force is with him, he is not to be underestimated."
Dangor stood and bowed. "Your majesty, I ask your forgiveness. I do not presume to question your judgment."
"It is given." Palpatine turned to Sate Pestage. "Lord Vader is to be a part of the confrontation with Skywalker, but I do not wish to involve him at this point. You will recruit an actor to play his part. Outfit him convincingly, and prepare the throneroom for the encounters. Only a single guard need be present. The clone and the actor are to be armed with specially modified lightsabers that I shall provide." Palpatine paused, then looked at Dangor. "Leave that report with the Constable. He will find it most useful. The real confrontation will occur on the new Death Star, where we shall destroy the cursed rebel fleet and their Mon Calamari allies once and for all. Make certain that the throneroom is completed there, and ensure that its view of the battle area will be unobstructed. Has the information concerning the shield generator and my own presence on the battle station been disseminated?"
"That information has been planted, and in a few months, it will be 'discovered' by a Bothan rebel cell we have identified on Aargau. It will be convincing, as they will pay for the information with Bothan lives," Dangor assured the Emperor.
"It will be convincing because it will be true," Palpatine sneered. "Lord Vader is currently assembling the fleet at Endor via convoluted routes that will deceive the rebellion into thinking that it is still dispersed throughout the galaxy. The trap will close around them, and they will realize that the bait is beyond their grasp. Then the Alliance will die." Palpatine gave a little laugh. "That is all for now. You are dismissed."
Dangor and Pestage rose and filed from the room, leaving the datapad behind. Palpatine gestured for Rollo Mon to remain. When they were alone, Palpatine leaned close to the diminutive Constable of Homunculi, whom he had trusted with his life many times in the past, and whispered to him. "There are a few other things to add to the clone's memories, that I must tell you of..."
\*
Assembling the fleet, however secretively, was not fitting work for the Dark Lord of the Sith. It was properly delegated to Admiral Piett, and that was exactly what an irritated Lord Vader had done. Now he was alone in his meditation chamber, its black hemispheres fitted together like the shells of a Calamarian Deep Bivalve. With the chamber sealed, and the atmospheric pressure lowered, Vader could breath even without his mask. He liked to have it off from time to time, to be free of its confines. The mask was held by a robot arm above his head, which was a pasty white from decades of being hidden. A long burn scar ran down the back of his skull, the souvenir of his violent encounter with Kenobi before the mask was created. There were no mirrors in the chamber. Vader was absorbed in studying his old lightsaber. It felt very strange to hold it again after so long. He guessed Kenobi had taken it, then saved it, and given it to Luke.
But why? It was an age-old Jedi custom to have an aspiring Jedi construct his or her own lightsaber. Why had Luke not done so? Now it was back in his gloved hands. What a strange road it had traveled. He caressed the weapon, remembering how he had constructed it. Its power cell and hand grip were one unit, which was surmounted by an activation lever. Higher up the weapon were its controls, blade length and blade intensity adjustments. The emitter matrix was half shielded by a graceful arc of metal that housed the internal access lever. Vader's hands paused there. Something was different - the lever was raised higher than he remembered it. Had it been bent, or was something underneath preventing its proper closure? With a gentle twist, he used the lever to disengage the tiny circular access plate and peered within. He saw it immediately.
A tiny recording chip was affixed to the rear of the emitter matrix. Vader was mystified. He removed a delicate instrument from a nearby stand and used it to extract the magnetized chip. He rotated his seat to face his viewscreen and placed the chip in a reader. It was an old chip, of outdated design, but the reader should still be able to handle it. He waited. Long moments later, the screen flickered to life, and Vader found himself looking into the face of Obi-Wan Kenobi, some twenty years younger than the old man he had killed on the Death Star. That was in itself a surprise, but little could compare to the shock he felt when the image spoke.
"Anakin...," it said.
\*
Two decades earlier, Obi-Wan Kenobi was alone in his starship, breaking orbit from Horuz, fleeing the ruin of his greatest friendship. His body was beaten and his heart was broken. He ached all over from the wounds he had incurred in his narrow escape from the Sith. Kenobi was barely able to complete the coordinate entry for the jump to hyperspace that put that evil world of tragic loss behind him forever. Space outside the viewport flared with starlines, but Kenobi did not see them. He was desperately trying to attune himself to the Force, seeking solace for his pain. Gradually, he began to feel at one with the great energy field that bound that galaxy together. He was no longer alone, but in touch with life all around. He felt pain, but now it was shared. He was given healing as well. Kenobi's grief became bearable and he was able to meditate. His trim brown beard framed a mouth that formed an enigmatic almost-smile.
The Force was still with him, and now it showed him something. Within his trance, he saw a black armored figure with a ghastly pale visage that he recognized despite its wasted state. It was Anakin, and he was holding what Kenobi knew to be the very lightsaber he had taken from their battlefield on Horuz. The Force whispered to him, it seemed, of what he must do, and its importance. Still in his trance, he nodded. A minute later, he emerged gently from the meditation, and arose to cross to his message recorder. Some part of the burden felt lifted from his shoulders, and he knew that the events of the past day would only really come to their conclusion on the far off day seen in his vision. He had no guarantee that what he saw would come to pass, or that anything would come of it, yet he had to try. Composing himself, he faced the recorder and turned it on.
"Anakin," he said, "If you are hearing this, then what I have foreseen has come to pass, and you are still alive, but in the grip of the dark side. I cannot decide if I hope you still live or not...I left your body on Horuz, hideously burned. I question whether you could survive." "But if you still live...my friend -" Kenobi's voice caught. "I am sorry...for everything. When you were my student, I saw your anger at what was happening to the Republic. But I ignored it. I thought you would be able to control your feelings and work to save what was left. I was confident in the teachings I'd given you. But I didn't see what was happening until it was too late. You fell under the influence of Palpatine, and instead of fighting to save the Republic, you embraced what he wanted to put in its place."
"Oh Anakin, Palpatine showed you so much power - more than you ever knew existed. Power to impose order on a chaotic and corrupt society. It was the power of the dark side of the Force, and it seduced you. As your teacher, I should have helped you to face the dark side during your training - helped you to deny it. I failed in this duty, and Palpatine was the first to show it to you. Palpatine is so much more than he seems. As he gains more power, my fear for the galaxy grows. When I saw what he had done to you, I resolved to confront you, and to try to turn you back. When at last you left Palpatine's presence, and went to Horuz, I followed you. I didn't know why you were you were going, I only saw my chance to get through to you."
"The moment I saw you, waiting for me on that ridge near the pits with anger in your heart, I realized you had known I was following all along. I was shocked by how you had changed, by how far gone you were. You didn't listen to my appeals to our friendship, or to my pleas that you remember your wife, who still loves you, despite everything. Nothing got through. I think Palpatine had warned you that I was going to try to take away your power, so that all you wanted was to fight me and be rid of me." Kenobi hung his head in sorrow. It was all so fresh, still an open wound in his soul.
"I taught you all you know about lightsaber combat. You couldn't have won. I...didn't want to hurt you...but you attacked with such ferocity that I had no choice. To save my own life, Anakin, I had to strike you down. It was the hardest thing I ever did. I saw you fall from the ridge, into the pit...I would have come after you, tried to help you, but at that moment, I felt a devastating attack through the Force." Kenobi's face was full of rue.
"Too late, I realized why you had come to Horuz, and how foolish I had been to follow you. I had stumbled onto the lost Monastery of the Sith. I thought it was long vanished, but Palpatine knew where it was, and he sent you there to learn from them. I knew I could not stand against them alone, and I fled. I barely escaped with my life, using all the power at my command. Maybe the Sith saved you...If I had not been attacked, I would have tried to save you."
Earnestly, he leaned towards the recorder. "Anakin, hear me. If you still live, it is not too late. Palpatine gave you power, but he took so much more. Things of infinitely greater value. Your friends, your wife, all that is good and loving in a man's life that makes it worth living. Let go of your hatred. The dark side can only destroy everything it touches. Turn away from it." Kenobi sighed deeply. "What am I doing? This is probably for nothing. If the dark side has you, then the man who was my friend is dead. I must face that fact. I will never forget you, I will miss you, Anakin, goodbye."
Unable to take any more, Kenobi slapped the recorder switch off. Smoothly, it ejected the finished chip. He stared at it for a long time. Then he reached for his friend's lightsaber, finally letting himself cry as he did so.
\*
Darth Vader sat very still as the screen went blank, the message finished. He stared at the glassy surface, disturbed at it without knowing why, until he realized with a start that he was looking at his own face, dimly reflected on the blank screen. He turned away, made acutely uncomfortable by the sight. His thoughts were in turmoil, and he tightly clenched the lightsaber in his gloved fists. Without understanding why, Vader had a strong, clear memory of his son leaping to his death rather than joining him. He was filled with feelings he could no longer name. Vader hastily punched the control keys next to him, and his black mask and helmet descended over his troubled face, sealing against his armor with a hiss. Now there was only the angular breath mask, an iron face that never showed weakness of any kind. Safe in his fortress, Vader began to feel better. He told himself that there was no conflict inside of him as he took the chip between his black gloved machine fingers and crushed it into fragments that fell glittering to the deck plates.
\*
Two and a half months later, Emperor Palpatine sat in the throneroom on Coruscant, waiting for the fourth clone of Luke Skywalker to enter. So far, the project had been frustrating, and he had learned little, but he thought that this next encounter might be the breakthrough. In any case, he sensed that time was running out. All too soon, the real moment would be upon him. Palpatine reflected on the many variables involved in this testing. Skywalker was a complex individual. Ars Dangor's report had contained little real knowledge of the boy's psychology. The truth of Luke's parentage had not been in it at all. Where it had discussed Luke's feelings about Vader, it had concluded that Luke must want him dead.
The first clone had been created according to the report, to satisfy the Emperor's curiosity, and sure enough, he had killed Vader. But Palpatine had been unsatisfied. The act had not held the passion required for turning Luke to the dark side; the clone had killed out of a sense of justice. Luke must feel the anger and hatred, he must let the dark side empower him to kill his father. Finally, he must become his father. Besides, despite Palpatine's inability to penetrate the nexus, he could see the events leading up to it with unusual clarity. He saw Skywalker coming to Vader of his own free will, hoping that his father could be turned. He knew the boy had great compassion for his father. It was a strange aspect of Luke, but the Emperor knew it could be the boy's undoing. If the boy couldn't kill his own father, then Vader would destroy him. No matter what Vader felt about his son, he could not defy the Emperor's direct command. If Luke was driven in the end to kill his father, then he would belong to the dark side, and to Palpatine.
The boy's fatal compassion for his father was incorporated into the second clone. The clone had solemnly entered, accompanied by a replacement false Vader. The Emperor had welcomed him, and asserted that he was now the clone's new master. The boy had resisted, but as before, Palpatine had "revealed" to him that the rebel fleet had been lured into a trap around Coruscant, and that it was being destroyed. Viewscreens had even been set up to simulate the battle, and with growing anguish, the clone had cried out for it to stop. But of course, it did not, and Palpatine had crowed over the end of Luke's allies. He had taunted Luke for his helplessness, and urged Luke to take his anger out on him. As the first clone had, this one had finally tried to move on Palpatine. Vader had intervened and placed himself in Luke's way, and Luke had begun a reluctant fight. While the first clone had fought aggressively, the second, in his compassion, fought purely defensively, angling around for a chance to rush the Emperor. He didn't get the chance. The false Vader cornered him. Then, to Palpatine's disgust, the actor had balked at actually killing the boy. The Emperor had had to go over to them and finish both of them with Force lightning.
The third clone had been accompanied by a ruthless soldier in the Vader role. It was to no avail. The clone could not be goaded into attacking Palpatine at all. He had watched as the fleet was "destroyed", and Palpatine could tell that the boy's helplessness had paralyzed him. Putting the fleet in danger was not a sure thing to push Luke over the edge. Irritated, Palpatine had ordered the clone destroyed. Then the Emperor had felt he was at an impasse. He needed Luke to enter into combat with Vader, but there seemed to be insufficient impetus for Luke to give in to his anger.
It was Sate Pestage who finally solved the problem. The Grand Vizier had pointed out what Vader had already learned; the real Luke Skywalker had felt the pain of his friends, Han Solo and Leia Organa, from across space, and tried to come to their rescue. He had been close to them for three years, and would most likely lay down his life for them. Why not simply put them in mortal danger? Palpatine had cursed himself for not seeing the obvious. Of course, when Skywalker came to Endor, he would be accompanied by his friends.
Yes, that was the key, he was sure of it. Imperial databanks were searched for images of the Princess-Senator and the Correllian, and then the Emperor was ready. Now he waited, alone, for the fourth clone. His guards were absent. He had learned from the first encounter that their presence was not a good idea. The far doors opened, and Vader entered with Luke. They came up close to his throne, and Palpatine smiled. "Welcome, young Skywalker. I have expected you. You will complete your training with me, my young apprentice."
Luke was defiant. "Obi-Wan Kenobi was my master, killed at the hands of your servant. He would never turn to the dark side, and neither will I. I came here to try to save my father from you, but I'll die before I join you."
"Oh, no, my young apprentice," the Emperor corrected Luke. "Your hopes for your father are empty. He will never go with you. He is forever mine. As for you, young Skywalker, there is much for you to learn. I will show you the true nature of the Force, and you will serve me." Luke stood firm. Palpatine knew he was nurturing the planted hope that the attacking rebel fleet would either contrive to aid him somehow, or else destroy the palace and put an end to the Emperor's reign.
"None of this matters, your highness," Luke protested. "The rebel fleet is on its way here now. The Imperial fleet has been lured away from Coruscant and this palace is defenseless. Both of us will die. You'll never have the chance to turn me." Luke turned to face Vader. "Father, come with me now. We can escape together. Leave this place and your cruel master." Luke was getting anxious. Vader didn't move a muscle.
Palpatine stood and crossed the dais, looking down mockingly at Luke despite his smaller stature. "Your father can never be turned, my young apprentice. As for your fleet, it will never penetrate Coruscant's planetary shield." The Emperor's voice went sickeningly soft. "You think I am mistaken, don't you." Palpatine laughed mirthlessly. "In fact, the Imperial fleet is poised to arrive via hyperspace at any moment, trapping your rebel fleet and destroying it. We are in no danger, boy." Palpatine leaned in very close to Luke, speaking in a low voice. "Perhaps you are counting on your friends to disable the shields." He was pleased to see Luke begin to sweat. Smiling, the Emperor reached to trigger a control on the arm of his throne.
Luke was startled as an enormous wall screen lit up. On it was the security camera transmission from deep in the bowels of the palace. Luke could see the furtive shapes of rebel commandos scurrying for cover as a patrol of security guards passed by. The image moved into a tight focus, and Luke gasped audibly as the faces of Han Solo and Princess Leia came clearly into view.
"Oh, yes, my young apprentice. I know of your friends' mission. I lured them here, after all. They have been a thorn in my side, and now I shall enjoy torturing them. Perhaps I shall let you listen to their screams." Palpatine laughed again, and Luke's hands clenched.
Suddenly, on the screen, two dozen heavily armed stormtroopers came up behind the commandos. Han Solo spun and fired, blindingly fast, but he wasn't able to stop several troopers from wounding him terribly in the arms and legs. He dropped to the floor, his heavy blaster spinning into the shadows. Leia screamed and fired frantically, but she, too, was swiftly taken down. Luke couldn't tell if either of them was still alive. Then the screen image changed to a view of the space around Coruscant. Rebel ships were careening madly away from the dimly visible planetary shield as dozens of Star Destroyers came screaming out of hyperspace to array themselves like a giant net around the rebel fleet. Without warning, hundreds of turbolasers spoke fiery death into the void as swarms of TIE interceptors descended upon the rebels. Luke watched helplessly as the Alliance ships were cut to pieces. Explosions bloomed in the darkness, and the dying began in earnest. "It is the end for the Alliance, my young apprentice," The Emperor told Luke. "There is no hope left for you. Your friends are now in my power. I will see that they are a long time dying. You may beg me for their lives. Perhaps I will give them to you, if you serve me... if they survive."
Luke could stand no more. He ignited his lightsaber and shouted, "Father, stay back, this isn't your fight." He moved up onto the dais, menacing the Emperor. "Maybe you'll trade your own life for the lives of Han and Leia," Luke said fiercely. But Vader was already moving. Igniting his own weapon, he chased after Luke and drove him away from the Emperor. Luke defended himself easily, his green blade blurring in the air. "I'm not here to fight you, Father," Luke grated. "You don't have to fight me. Together we can defeat the Emperor, you know that."
But "Vader" would hear none of it. "The Emperor is my master. Now he is yours, too. The only chance for you is to serve him." He attacked, more aggressively. "I tortured your friends on Cloud City, and now they will be mine again. Leia Organa will scream a dozen times for every minute that you deny your destiny. I will kill Han Solo before your eyes. The rebel alliance is dead and soon, your friends will die, too!" Luke was hard pressed to fend off Vader's attacks, but his anger had been growing. His rage began to show on his face as the room seemed to spin before his eyes. Vader pressed the attack, his blade flashing blindingly against Luke's again and again. The wall screen showed a huge rebel cruiser annihilated in a billowing fireball. The image shifted, and Han and Leia appeared again, screaming as they were shot over and over. The Emperor laughed, long and loud in Luke's ears. Luke's anger was suddenly alive in him, a clamoring thing writhing in its desire for destruction. And the dark side answered its call. Luke felt strength pour into him, and he easily beat Vader's blade aside. He had been so wrong about his father. There was no good left in him. If Vader now stood between him and the Emperor, then he would have to fall. Look at him! The Dark Lord of the Sith, retreating before me. You won't escape, Vader - you die now! You didn't deserve the power you had. Now, mine is greater! My father...I hate the day I ever learned I was your son! No - don't try to run - it ends here! Yes! on your knees! Down! Down on the floor! A fitting place for you to DIE! Luke suddenly found himself with no one between Palpatine and himself. The hate was singing in his ears, a red haze was before his eyes, and a bloody taste was in his mouth.
"Good!" the Emperor cried out. "Well done, Lord Skywalker! Your father is dead at your own hand, and you are now my servant. It is exactly as I have predicted. Come and kneel before your master." Luke could not focus his thoughts. He was oddly surprised to find Vader dead at his feet. His lightsaber fell from his fingers, forgotten, striking Vader's helm once before clattering to the floor. He was aware of an overwhelming urge to go to the Emperor, and do as he asked. He remembered feeling differently, but his anger at the Emperor no longer seemed important. He stepped over Vader's body, and went to kneel before Palpatine. A vast emptiness had opened up inside him, and much to his pleasure, being near the Emperor filled up that void. But Palpatine's attention was no longer on him. The Emperor was walking away, talking to himself. "So will it be when we meet, young Skywalker. You will be mine...soon...soon."
Luke was confused. What was going on? Hadn't he knelt as asked? What more did he need to do? What was his Emperor saying? His confusion was in no way diminished when Palpatine left the room altogether, and six red robed Imperial guards came in to kill him.
\*
Palpatine felt much better. The future was still closed to him, but now he felt confident that he knew exactly what Skywalker would do. He tested no more clones. One day, six months after the Emperor's vision trance in which he had seen his own death (which now seemed like a faded, bad dream to him), a message came from Lord Vader. Sate Pestage delivered it personally, because a curious item accompanied it that was to be delivered directly into the Emperor's hand. It was a lightsaber. Pestage reported that the fleet was assembled at Endor, and that the Death Star's prime weapon was ready. Vader had arrived on the Death Star, and had made the station ready for Palpatine's arrival.
As the Emperor had commanded, Vader had assigned a legion of the Empire's most elite stormtroopers to guard the bunker on Endor that housed the shield generator. All was in readiness, and Palpatine received the message with satisfaction. But the lightsaber puzzled him. Vader had said in his message only that it had once belonged to Anakin Skywalker. It was a gift, Vader had said, to place in his Emperor's personal collection. That was all well and good, but the why of it eluded Palpatine. Finally, he concluded that Vader had had the lightsaber since Cloud City, and that he had decided that this vestige of the man he had once been did not belong to him anymore. He had sent it to Palpatine, as a statement that Anakin was no more, and that the weapon belonged with those of other vanquished Jedi. It pleased him, but he had other, more important matters to be concerned with. Vader was already dead, anyway. He just didn't know it, yet. Palpatine gave the weapon to Sate Pestage to be stored away, and didn't give it another thought as he prepared for his journey to Endor.
\*
Darth Vader paced the command bridge of the Executor, staring at the unfinished Death Star. It floated above the green moon of Endor, its vast surface full of gaps. Roughly an entire hemisphere gaped with exposed superstructure that trailed off into space, awaiting completion. One section that was fully finished was the huge circular dish of the prime weapon. Vader knew it was ready even now, and that in the near future, it would bring death to entire worlds. Vader shuddered. Even for him, there were atrocities that went too far. When Alderaan was destroyed, what Vader had felt in the Force had shaken him deeply. So much destruction had unbalanced the Force itself, and threatened the very order of the galaxy that he cherished as an ideal. The Emperor had been pleased; it had made him stronger.
Somehow Vader saw, as Palpatine did not, that the Force was a single entity with two aspects. Perhaps it was because he had belonged to both sides in his lifetime. Greatly weakening one side of the Force must, in the end, weaken the whole thing. The Emperor's audacity in constructing a second Death Star was ultimately self-defeating, but Vader could not allow it to be used. He did not dare any overt sabotage; he could not defy his Emperor to that extent. The answer had come to him in the form of the Emperor's orders that the shield generator was to be guarded by the group of elite stormtroopers from which the Imperial guards were chosen.
Vader used the Force to cloud the minds of several officers, and arranged for a legion of new recruits to be deployed on Endor instead. They didn't even remember what they had done afterwards. It was very easy, but also risky. He had to hope it wouldn't be discovered by Palpatine, and he knew that the ultimate result of his action depended on the resources of the rebels. But it was the most he could do. Vader leaned wearily against the wall as gazed at the station. Soon, he had been told, he, the Emperor, and his son would all meet there. The thought depressed him. He had hoped that he could persuade his son to join him, that together they could be powerful enough to do what Vader could not do, and transform the Empire.
Now that Luke was to be delivered to Palpatine, that would never be possible, if indeed it ever had been. Vader also felt old. Ever since he had seen Kenobi's damnable message, he had been acutely aware that he had lived two lifetimes, both of which had exacted their price. He had the feeling that for him, the end was near, though he could not say why. Perhaps he would welcome the end, when it came. His only regret would be the boy. His son.
What would he become in the Emperor's hands? Luke continued to stir conflict within him. His son belonged to his old life, and though he wanted very much to bring Luke into his new one, Vader understood that it could never be. He had made his choices long ago, and it was too late for him by far. Obi-Wan had been wrong to think differently.
A flicker of pseudomotion among the stars caught Vader's attention. He knew without checking that it was the arrival of the Star Destroyer "New Order", the Emperor's personal transport. He felt his master's presence like a signal fire on a nearby hill. He craved its heat, and despite himself, he longed to go and be near it. Even before the recognition signal had been received by the flagship, Vader announced, "The Emperor has arrived. Prepare a military salute. I will receive him on the Death Star."
Admiral Piett hurried to obey as Vader turned on his heel and swiftly left the bridge, his black cape flaring. Vader felt a curious calm, a peace that came with the certainty that whatever the outcome, the end of the game was at hand. He hoped that the Force would be with him.
\*
The Emperor was falling. He was filled with fear and surprise, and screamed all the way down. His body was ripped asunder by a collision with gigantic energy discharges. His life force was swallowed into the dark side, but Palpatine, having foreseen this moment, was ready. His essence easily reached the small room at the base of the throne tower on the Death Star, where he had hidden a single clone body.
A person like the Emperor did not ignore his visions. Months ago, a terrifying vision of his death had started him on this course, but he had been determined to outwit his seeming destiny. He knew that if worst came to worst in his meeting with Skywalker, he would not die so far from Byss that he could not reach one of his clones. He poured into the clone with relief. Somewhere above him, he was sure, Luke Skywalker was still alive. That must be changed. He forced himself to wait patiently as the decanting mechanisms activated at a touch of his mind, but it took a supreme effort. The Emperor was still full of searing anger. Everything had seemed so close to success. Skywalker had reacted to all his manipulations as expected. The boy's friends and the rebel fleet had all fallen neatly into the trap. The boy had clearly been about to kill his father. Palpatine had felt the hate in him, seen the blade at Vader's throat. Somehow he had resisted. How?
Luke's words had infuriated the Emperor. You've failed, your highness... Palpatine had decided that the boy must die as painfully as possible, and the Force lightning had come forth with a vengeance, fueled by burning rage. That rage still coursed through the Emperor as the nutrient bath level swiftly dropped. He realized where he had made his mistake. He had known Vader was treacherous, but he had thought the Dark Lord to be too weak to be a threat. He had been completely absorbed in the punishment of the boy when Vader made his move. Vader had always wanted Palpatine's power. He had taken his chance to kill his master and seize that power for himself. Palpatine wasted no more thought on Vader. He knew that the Force lightning had struck enough blows to end his one time servant's life for certain. Vader had been paid in full, but Skywalker, he sensed, had survived. It was time to finish what he had begun.
The clone vat smoothly opened. The youthful Emperor stepped out of the tank and into the cramped storage room with murder in his yellow eyes. He shrugged on a robe to cover his nakedness. The sparks had already begun to arc from his fingertips. Suddenly, there was a deafening thunder and the floor leaped away from his bare feet. The heavy clone tank crashed without warning onto his legs, crushing him to the deck. Bewildered, the Emperor reached out through the Force with his inner sight. What he saw stunned him. The deflector shield was gone, and the rebel fleet was no longer trapped. He felt his carefully laid plans fall to dust, including those concerning his own survival.
The Super Star Destroyer, Executor, had plunged into the Death Star like a titan's arrow finding its mark in the belly of the beast. That had rocked the station, and now the rebel fleet had begun a close range bombardment of the Death Star's unfinished side. Rebel fighters were inside the superstructure, heading for the main reactor. There would be no time for vengeance. Skywalker would have to wait for another day. Palpatine used the Force to thrust the massive tank away from himself, and gazed at the ruin of his legs. He easily controlled the pain, but he knew he would not walk out of the room. There was no time for healing. With the Force, he opened the door to the hallway, where chaos reigned.
Officers and stormtroopers ran in all directions, following or giving futile orders, or simply panicking. Palpatine spotted Moff Jerjerrod stumbling by in a daze, and called out to him. Jerjerrod entered, sweating, his eyes darting crazily about until they fixed on Palpatine. He saw a young man who lay on the floor, his robes in disarray, his otherwise naked form slicked with yellow-green fluid. "Who are you?" he stammered. Palpatine now regretted having chosen such a weak man as the Death Star Commander. He needed help, and he knew he would have to mind control the fool to get it. In a moment, Jerjerrod's face went blank, and he stooped to help the Emperor to a standing position. Together, they stumbled into the corridor.
With the Moff's help, Palpatine reached a comm panel. He swiftly keyed a sequence that would send a coded message to his Grand Vizier. Sate Pestage would know what to do to prepare for the future. Now he had to ensure that there would be a future. Despite his precautions, he was very far from Byss now. To reach another clone, his essence would have to travel vast distances while fighting the dissolution of the dark side's chaos. Such a journey might take a year, perhaps too long to survive. But his studies with the Holocron had taught him about spirit anchors, how a consciousness could retain its individuality while entirely within the Force, provided there was a living mind to cling to. He planned to use one himself, to make sure he survived until he could reach Byss. It was no sure thing, but it was his only chance. He knew just the person.
There was an operative named Mara Jade, code named the Emperor's Hand. She had the power to hear his call from anywhere in the galaxy, and he needed that ability now. He reached out with the Force and found her. The link was established in a moment, and just in time. Deep inside the station, the main reactor was exploding. Emperor Palpatine's last thoughts were of hatred for Vader and Skywalker, and of the vengeance he would one day have. Then the Death Star erupted with cleansing fire, bringing Palpatine's Empire to an end.
\*
It was over. Palpatine, Luke, and Vader had gone through their personal crucibles and emerged forged into new shapes. Vader had lost his life, but won back his soul. Luke had lost his father and his innocence, but gained maturity and become a Jedi at last. The Emperor had lost everything, but somewhere within the dark side of the Force, he lived on as a hatred that would not die. Years in the future, he would live again in one of his clones, returning to menace the children of Anakin Skywalker once again. But for the present, goodness had triumphed. The newborn New Republic was removing its forces from Endor. The threat of the Ssi-Ruuk had been countered, and now the weary freedom fighters could begin to return to their homes and undertake the monumental task of creating a new government.
Mon Mothma wanted to leave Endor the way it had been before the Empire had moved in, pristine and unspoiled. A few Ewoks had decided to go adventuring in space with the former rebels, but most of them bid farewell to their new tribe members and went back to their primitive lives among the lofty tree villages.
The lights of departing starships dotted the night sky of Endor as one particular rebel said his last goodbyes to a place he might never see again. Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight gazed sorrowfully at the burned out funeral pyre of his father. The starlight of the clearing dimly showed him that there wasn't much left of Darth Vader's body, only blackened, melted armor. A far greater absence was felt in Luke's soul. He had regained his father for such a brief time, then lost him forever. That made it much more painful, somehow. It was time to say farewell.
Slightly embarrassed, Luke spoke into the night softly. "Father. Anakin. I know you're at peace in the Force now. I think I saw you with Ben and Master Yoda, that night after I burned your body. I hope that was the right thing to do. You were turned before the end, but I felt your body should be freed from the machine that kept it a prisoner." Luke looked up at the stars. "I know you came to see Leia. She told me you wanted her forgiveness. It's a hard thing for her to forgive or forget. But she told me a while ago that she had made her peace with you, and that you would know it. I wonder if you can hear me? I wondered why you appeared to Leia and not to me. I'm sure you had your reasons, but there was more I wanted to say to you." Luke's voice trailed off.
He stood there for several minutes, letting his silence convey the rest of what he felt. He turned to leave, his face full of disappointment. Luke was startled to find himself face to face with the glowing apparition of his father, standing at the entrance to the clearing. Anakin was dressed in plain brown robes, and as before, he appeared as a gentle faced late middle aged man. He was smiling at Luke. "Have you - how long have you been standing there?" Luke demanded.
"I've been watching you, my son. I'm very proud of you, and of your sister. I meant to see both of you, Luke, and here I am. It was given to me to see you and speak with each of you once only. I asked forgiveness of your sister. As for you, my son, I want to tell you about the Emperor."
Luke was pleased and saddened at the same time. "If that's all the time we can have, we should make the best of it. The Emperor is dead, what more is there to say about him?"
Anakin's face was troubled. "You can't be sure of that, Luke. I was very close to the Emperor. He was strong in the dark side, but it made him weak in the flesh. I don't think this was the only time he died."
Luke couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What do you mean, Father?"
Anakin spread his spectral hands. "I saw him become very old several times while I knew him. Suddenly, he would be young again. He never told me how he did it, but I suspect he used a clone of himself to regain his youth. If he is able to do so again..." Anakin let his hands fall.
Luke shuddered. Palpatine had been so evil, so powerful. Only his father's intervention had saved his life in the end. He doubted he could survive another encounter. "However," Anakin tried to reassure him, "the Emperor always went to a mysterious location in the core worlds in order to be rejuvenated. It may be that he could not save himself here at Endor. He may be dead forever. For now, at least, the galaxy is free of him."
"You're free of him forever, Father," Luke smiled.
"Thanks to you, my son," said Anakin. "Somehow you knew there was good in me when the Emperor didn't know, and I myself didn't know. How could you tell?"
"I'm your son," Luke said simply. "I had to believe in the good in my father if I was to have any hope for the good in myself. Besides, once I accepted the truth that you were my father, I thought back to how on Cloud City, you could have killed me. But you didn't. There must still have been something of Anakin in you."
"It was a near thing, my son. You took a terrible risk. I would have killed you, had the Emperor commanded me to. You came close to killing me, too. Such is the power of the dark side. Never underestimate it, my son."
"I did come close. Too close." Luke remembered the moment all too well. The dark side had responded to him so quickly and powerfully once he had opened himself to it. "It was your threat to turn Leia to the dark side that pushed me over the edge. I'm not sure how to put this... I loved her, Father. I saw her image and followed it across the galaxy. I wanted her to be mine, to love me back. But she fell in love with Han, and then I learned she was my sister. I know she can never be mine, but I still love her, even now. I couldn't bear to think of her going through what I was going through. But in the end, when I had you at my mercy, when the Emperor was calling out for me to kill you, what held me back was this." Luke held up his prosthetic right hand. "I saw your severed hand, bionic like mine, and I realized that a vision I saw during my training was coming true. If I continued down the dark path, I would become Darth Vader. The hand that Vader cut off saved both of us." Luke couldn't help but recall the horrible attack of the Emperor that had nearly killed him. "You saved my life, too, Father. The Emperor would have killed me then and there."
"The Emperor's hold on me was strong, Luke. I had to obey him, no matter what. Even when I realized he wanted me dead. When you and I fought, He didn't aid me with his powers. On the contrary, he clouded my mind as he once did to Obi-Wan. That, combined with the power given to you by the dark side, was enough to seal my fate as your victim. You withheld, but still I went back to my master's side. I needed his presence to replace the emptiness of all that I had lost because of him. He knew that, and thought his hold on me was absolute. But then I saw you dying. It was at that moment that Anakin was reborn. I realized that what I felt for you was love, an emotion I had forgotten. Palpatine's hold on me was broken. I suddenly saw him, not as my dark master, but as a small, twisted old man, full of spite and cruelty. And this foul creature was killing my son. I knew what I had to do. Though it killed me, I had to save you."
"Father, how did the Emperor come so close to winning? He seemed to know me completely, before I even arrived. He knew exactly what would tempt me to the dark side."
Anakin replied seriously, "The Emperor could foresee many things. Before our battle, he told me that you would turn to the dark side if all you held dear was threatened. Your friends, and the rebel alliance itself were to be in mortal danger, driving you to seek the power you couldn't find in the light side of the Force. He did know you, and so he would have won, except that he did not know me."
Luke smiled grimly at the irony. Palpatine had kept the instrument of his own destruction by his side for twenty years. His overconfidence had been his weakness after all. A man who had been one of the Jedi had avenged his kind against their conqueror in the end. "Yoda tells me that your destiny is a great one, Luke. He says that restore the Jedi you will. Excuse me, that you will restore the Jedi. I believe in you, my son. One day, you will be a Jedi master. Through you, the Jedi will return." Luke smiled at his father. Anakin had begun to fade away. " I must leave you now, Luke. Be strong, and believe that someday, you will find love. The Force will be with you, always."
"Goodbye, Father," said Luke sadly. Luke's father shimmered and was gone, leaving Luke alone in the quiet starlit clearing. And you shall always be with the Force, Father, Luke thought. Deep in his heart, he knew the Jedi had already returned.
3
The Emperor Eclipsed
The Emperor's Grand Vizier, Sate Pestage, knew his master was dead before anyone else in the palace. The message he found waiting for him on his secure holonet terminal left no doubt in his mind. Once he had decrypted it, using codes known only to the Emperor and himself, Pestage knew the Empire had lost its dark center. Like the gigantic black hole at the center of the galaxy, Palpatine had been the hub around which every destiny in the Empire revolved. Now, without him, the Empire would spin out of control, heading for disaster. Pestage should have been filled with despair. He had found his life's meaning in his service to the Emperor. Without that purpose, the emptiness would surely swallow him. But the Grand Vizier could afford neither despair nor oblivion. It was entrusted to him to turn defeat into victory, to salvage order out of chaos, to restore hope. Palpatine, his Emperor, was depending on him. Pestage reviewed the contents of the message once more, as puzzled by its cryptic lines as ever. My old friend, the fact that you are reading this means that the worst has come to pass. I have reached the nexus I feared, and have not survived. But you must not surrender. If ever you have been my servant, you must serve me now. You must bring Mara Jade to the Citadel on Byss. No one, not even Jade, must know the reason for the journey, but if you succeed, I will be restored. The Empire is in your hands.
With one bony finger, Pestage touched the erase key. He knew that no one else must see the message. Bad times were coming. Now, a power vacuum existed, and someone would rush to fill it. No one had the right to the throne except his master. Not even Pestage himself could claim it. But those who would steal the throne would also kill to hold it, and that meant Pestage's life was in danger. Doubly so, if the usurpers knew of this message. Not that Pestage understood it. Palpatine was dead, somewhere near Endor. He had gone to face Skywalker, and that had led to the ultimate ruin. He had taken a clone with him, but evidently, that had not availed him. Pestage knew enough about the Emperor's cloning-based immortality to see that there was no salvation for his master, so far away from Byss. Without proximity to a clone, Palpatine was surely lost. Yet, he would trust that somehow, appearances were deceiving, and that there was hope. He would trust in his master, and he would trust in the Force.
Suddenly, Pestage felt very old, very alone, and quite overwhelmed. He regarded his own frail frame. "It isn't fair," he muttered. "These weak bones cannot bear such a great burden. I must restore you, when you were all that kept me going... what have you done? You've staked all on an old man, whose only strength is his love for you. Well it may not be enough. But I...I will die trying to save you, if need be. There is no other way for me." Pestage hung his head. Now, he must deliver the terrible news of the Emperor's fall to Ars Dangor. He did not look forward to that duty in the slightest. Dangor was not a man who took bad news well.
\*
The Emperor's Hand, Mara Jade, was the second person in the palace to know that Palpatine was dead, and the only one to see him die. She was standing alone in vast and ancient Manarai hall, in front of a huge window that displayed the breathtaking panorama of the distant Manarai Mountains. She could look down on the sprawling Imperial City that filled the valley, ocean like, its metallic waves braking against the severe rock of the faraway peaks. The city heaved with activity, but high above, Mara had sought out this serene and empty place for her much needed meditation. She had been tormented by anxiety and guilt for days. She was afraid that something terrible was going to happen, and most of all, she felt that it would happen because her last mission had failed. Mara had been summoned into her master's presence just weeks ago, by a mental command. She had made her way to his private chambers. She knew that every courtier who saw her pass by, saw her beauty and concluded that she was Palpatine's pleasure toy. That misconception, that underestimation, suited her just fine. It made her job that much easier. For Mara Jade was in reality the Emperor's Hand, a special operative who took care of the tasks that couldn't be handled by a legion of stormtroopers. She was an assassin and a spy, a versatile extension of Palpatine's will. He had trained her in the dark side of the Force personally, and she could hear his mental commands from anywhere in the galaxy.
That last ability made her very special to the Emperor, for she often ventured into places where communication was impossible, to work his will with an immediacy and an effectiveness that was impossible for other operatives to achieve. When she reached Palpatine's rooms, Mara slipped inside with a slight swaying of her graceful hips, for the benefit of an advisor who was waiting at the Emperor's door. She saw a spark of outrage in the advisor's eyes, that he should wait even longer while the Emperor dallied, and then she was inside.
Palpatine's rooms were sparsely decorated, and despite being well lit, had a sense of shadowiness to them. "Come, Mara Jade," said Palpatine from a side chamber. She found him in a tiny gallery of Jedi artifacts and lightsabers, each one representing a vanquished foe. "I have a mission for you, one well suited to your talents." She stood very close to him, and he placed a fatherly hand on her red-gold hair. In a sense, he was her father. Mara's parents had died when she was very young, and she remembered very little of them. Palpatine had brought her to Coruscant, and she had grown up there, thinking of the Emperor as her father figure, despite their infrequent contact. When she came of age, he had revealed his special plans for her, and she had been overjoyed. Ever since then, it had been her pride to serve as his agent, rooting out his evil enemies and bringing an end to their schemes. And now, here was another chance to do just that.
"What do you need me to do?" she asked eagerly.
"I have told you of my visions concerning the Jedi, Skywalker," He replied quietly. "You know that I will face him, and that there is some...uncertainty surrounding the outcome. I fear that the Force itself conspires against me. But you and I, my dear Mara Jade, you and I will cheat fate. We will deny destiny. I have intelligence that Skywalker is going to Tatooine to rescue his friend, the Correllian, from the local Hutt crime lord. You will take full advantage of this knowledge, and find him on Tatooine. There you will see that our young Jedi meets a premature death." He smiled at her warmly, conspiratorially. "I leave the details to your capable mind."
Mara Jade was filled with feelings of determination, pride, and anger towards Skywalker. Anger that such a young terrorist could give the slightest vexation to her beloved Emperor, let alone threaten him. "As you command," she said with conviction, "so shall it be done." Mara had traveled to that forsaken dustball and infiltrated the grotesque slug's "palace" as a dancer. How it had disgusted her to perform for that drooling monstrosity! But apparently her lithe figure and shining hair had delighted the Hutt from the moment he saw her. It was degrading, but it was a good cover. She had waited, biding her time among the sick menagerie that thronged the Hutt's fortress.
Then, finally, a few days later, Skywalker had shown up, walking into the palace with arrogant self-confidence. And Mara had been asleep! A long day of dancing had exhausted her, and by the time she woke up, the Jedi had already killed Jabba's rancor and earned the Hutt's personal hatred. Skywalker was to be executed at something called the Pit of Carkoon. Suddenly everything was spinning out of control. She didn't trust the bloated Hutt to be able to overcome the Jedi. She was in a panic that unless she came along to make sure Skywalker died, somehow he would escape. Anyone who could elude Darth Vader should have little trouble with a Hutt. Skywalker had some clever plan, she was sure of it. So she had asked to go with Jabba on the sail barge. And her cover identity had backfired on her. Jabba had become very "attached" to her, and wanted her safe in his chambers when he returned from his little excursion.
The Pit of Carkoon was no place for a dancer, it was too dangerous. She had begged him, telling him she didn't want to be away from him for that long, but he had been adamant. She had even tried to use her Force skills on him, to no avail. And so, the sail barge and its prisoners had left without her. A day later, Bib Fortuna had made his way back to the palace, the only survivor of what was to him an astonishing debacle. Jabba was dead, Boba Fett as well, and the Jedi had escaped. Mara had been consumed by a helpless rage. Fortuna, already busy with his bid to take over the organization, did not even notice when she left. She returned to Coruscant in disgrace, but she was the only one who knew it.
The Emperor had already left to go to Endor, where he planned to trap the Rebel fleet. He had not even contacted her, or acknowledged the failure of her mission. He had been forced to go and face his fears and it was her fault. Worry and a sense of doom hovered around her for several days until she finally came to the ancient hall to practice the meditation skills that Palpatine had taught her, to try to find some escape from her deep unease. She reached out to her master, calmly and carefully, but his mind was closed to her. She could not sense him. Then, just as she was settling into a meditative state, letting the Force flow through her, a vision of Palpatine hit her like a silent explosion. Her eyes jerked open, but the view of the distant mountain range was utterly blotted out by larger than life figures that floated before her; they seemed more real than the room she was in. The Jedi, Skywalker, and the Sith Lord, Darth Vader, were standing in front of a seated Palpatine. Behind her master, a circular window looked out on the stars.
A moment later, she saw Skywalker gesture commandingly at Vader, and they both moved together to attack Palpatine with their lightsabers. To slaughter him. She saw his face between their grim forms as they closed the gap. He was looking directly at her. Such a sense of betrayal was in his yellow eyes - she gasped at his look of rage and terror. In his last seconds, a crystal clear message came through to her, so strong she could have sworn he was there in the room with her. "YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER!" It was his last command. Vader and Skywalker cut him down without mercy, and the vision ended. Mara Jade crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
\*
Emperor Palpatine knew he wasn't dead, but then, he wasn't exactly alive, either. As the Death Star began to erupt, he reached out through the Force to find Mara Jade's mind. It was his only choice, given the pressing need for a swift escape. Finding it, he had established a special link between them, through which he could use her as a "spirit anchor". A moment later, the stormtroopers and officers around him screamed in final terror as simultaneously, a fireball devoured the air in the corridor and the floor vanished, opening a gate to an inferno.
Palpatine's pain was all-consuming, but very brief. His clone body was vaporized. He felt his consciousness stretch out, impossibly thin, bridging the gap from Endor to Coruscant. With a violent snap, he hurtled into the mind of Mara Jade. He huddled around the Force-sensitive node in her brain, trying to regain coherence of perception; the brief journey had been enough to leave him severely disoriented. For an eternal moment, he had been exposed to the dark side's chaotic force of dissolution. If it had been able to claim him, he would have been swallowed into its madness for eternity.
But now, Mara Jade's living, organized mind provided him with a shield against that chaos. He was safe. But something had happened that he hadn't expected. Most of his dark power had been stripped from him and left behind in space near Endor. Mara Jade's mind simply could not contain it. Additionally, his state was nothing like what he had expected from his studies on spirit anchors. It was different on the dark side, he now learned. He wasn't entirely within the Force while retaining his individuality. This was more like a kind of possession. Worse, it was a kind of imprisonment. Palpatine was a guest who couldn't survive leaving. And so, diminished, shorn of his form and power, and almost defeated, the former master of the dark side of the Force clung to Mara Jade's mind as he slowly came back to himself.
His main goal now was his restoration. He had not panicked at the end, that was critical. Instead, he had sent a message to Sate Pestage, which would hopefully convince the Grand Vizier to bring Jade to Byss. There he could leave Jade's mind and reenter one of his clone bodies. Even as he had made the transition into her mind, he had created a false vision of his death for her, calculated to make her blame Skywalker for his murder. Palpatine still wanted revenge, and he still felt Mara Jade was best suited to carry it out. But she must have the complete conviction that the boy must die. From his position within her mind, Palpatine would do his best to encourage that belief. Skywalker had an unfortunate talent for making allies out of his enemies, and that must not happen with Mara. Even though he had lost, the game was not over. The Emperor's power was merely eclipsed for a time, and before long, he vowed, his name would once again inspire fear throughout the galaxy.
\*
Still dwelling on his feelings of inadequacy, Sate Pestage knocked softly at the door of the Emperor's chief advisor, Ars Dangor. He had walked slowly through the ornate halls of the palace, staring disconsolately at what he perceived as a terrible emptiness. The advisors and government officials he passed knew nothing of the disaster that had occurred. They went on about their business in blissful ignorance, and the vast body of the Empire continued to lumber along, not realizing that it had been decapitated.
The news sat like a hot stone in Pestage's gut. He had to share it or it would sear his innards. The first person who had to be told was Dangor, who took care of so many of the day-to-day details of running the Empire. After Palpatine and Pestage himself, Dangor had the most power in the government. He would know what to do to prevent a panic. All too soon, news from the surviving military elements at Endor and from the Alliance forces would pour in. The government on Coruscant had to be prepared lest the blow shatter it.
The door opened, and for an irrational moment, Pestage thought he saw Palpatine, miraculously returned from the dead, standing there cloaked in a black robe with a deep hood. But young hands reached up to pull the hood back, revealing the face of Ars Dangor. Unlike the other advisors, Dangor dressed in a manner similar to Palpatine. Not catching Pestage's disorientation, Dangor smoothly asked, "To what do I owe the honor of your presence, Grand Vizier?"
Recovering, Pestage replied, "Chief Advisor Dangor, I need to speak with you privately, about a very grave matter. May I come in?"
"Enter," said Dangor, and stood aside, beckoning with his robed arms. Pestage entered a suite of rooms that, unsurprisingly, mimicked the asceticism of the late Emperor. He faced Dangor, uncertain of how to begin. How to put such a calamity into words?
Dangor waited patiently, and after a few moments, Pestage said the only thing he could. "Palpatine is dead, and we must prevent the Empire from collapsing."
Dangor stared at him, speechless. Long moments passed. The chief advisor looked stricken, but his thoughts were racing. Palpatine - you fool! Curse you and your reckless obsessions! Skywalker. Endor. We are lost, unless... "He died at Endor?" Dangor demanded. "He was killed by Skywalker? No - it doesn't matter how. He is dead... I warned him not to pursue this course. I warned him. He put himself at risk in an unfinished battle station, just to capture a boy! We should have finished the Death Star and wiped out the rebellion planet by planet. This didn't need to happen...He didn't need to die..." Dangor turned away, trembling in his robes. "I never really thought he would die, you know. Even when he became old, he was somehow able to regenerate, to reclaim his youth. I thought I would be able to serve him for the rest of my life - longer, if he shared his secrets with me...I would have been content."
Chief Advisor Sate Pestage urged, "The reason I came to you first-"
"Yes, Sate Pestage. The Empire must not fall." Dangor began speaking rapidly. "You were right to say that. It needs an Emperor. A strong person must be placed on the throne as soon as possible, someone whom the people know and respect. We must convene an emergency meeting of the advisors, the Moffs, and COMPNOR, to deal with the crisis of leadership. Fear not, Sate Pestage, we will come through this with the Empire intact. I shall see to it immediately. We will have to contain the information flowing in from Endor, and assemble as much of the fleet as we can here at Coruscant. CompForce must discourage any potentially treasonous acts by those who would take advantage of the situation for their own advancement. There is a great deal to do. And so, Grand Vizier, we must both keep our hopes intact even as we struggle with our despair. Go in peace." And before Pestage knew it, he had been ushered out into the hall.
What had really happened in there? He had expected some sort of outburst from Dangor - the man was infamous for them. Instead, he had seemed grief-stricken. But, he had spoken like someone who had guessed what was going to happen, and who was somehow prepared. I warned him not to pursue this course. What was Dangor up to, to send Pestage away so quickly? Something about Dangor's little speech was nagging at the Grand Vizier. Dangor had seemed too ready to deal with the news, and if that was true, then...a strong person must be placed on the throne...I would have been content...Of course. It was clear to Pestage. Dangor planned to be the new Emperor himself. Pestage hurried back to his quarters, his thought in turmoil. Dangor as Emperor! He could not allow it to happen. But did he have any power to prevent it? And would he be placing his life in danger if he tried?
Dangor had a well-earned reputation for dealing ruthlessly with his enemies. Right now, Pestage's life was not his own. His master depended on him for his very survival. When he reached his rooms, he sat down at his private terminal. Palpatine kept records of everything, and Pestage was Steward of the Emperor's personal archive. Documentation of his most secret communications was contained therein. There was a great deal of information that could aid Ars Dangor immeasurably in his bid for power, and so he must not have it. Pestage keyed in a long and elaborate code that permanently closed the archives. Now, no one could have access to the Emperor's secrets. Only Palpatine knew the code required to reopen them.
Pestage sat back and breathed slowly, trying to calm down. He simply had not expected this, but in retrospect, it was predictable. Well, there was little he could do about it for the present, so he had best turn his efforts towards finding Mara Jade. Where would a secret assassin, known to no one, be in the event of her master's death?
Pestage hoped desperately that she had not learned of the events at Endor and left Coruscant for good.
\*
Even as Sate Pestage wondered where Mara Jade might be, she was secure in a hospital bed in the Old Republic Hospital not far from the palace. She had been found unconscious in Manarai Hall, with dangerously low brain activity. She had been brought to the Hospital for treatment, and now she was recovering in a private room, the danger past. Fast asleep, she shifted, tossed and turned, clutching at the blankets and mumbling. "Skywalker...you killed him...kill...kill you..." Deep inside her mind, Palpatine was fashioning nightmares for her.
Mara could see the throne room on the Death Star, but the only clearly visible areas were the throne and the steps before it. The far walls were lost in the mist, and the window behind the throne looked out on absolute blackness. The throne was facing away from her, and she could see a dark figure standing behind it in the shadows, a barely visible silhouette against the window. She was aware of a low hum, then the dark figure raised a lightsaber, illuminating its face. It was Skywalker, and his face was a mask of sadistic pleasure. He put a bloody hand on the throne and slowly rotated it to face Mara. She felt a stab of ice in her vitals as she saw the occupant of the chair. It was Palpatine. Skywalker had dissected him. Atop a burnt stack of his limbs sat his head, severed and facing directly at her. An odd grouping of lightsaber wounds marred his face like a charcoal sketch. She could almost see a pattern in them. Then Skywalker spoke, showing his enjoyment by indicating the body parts with a flourish.
"Amazing the things you can do with a lightsaber," he said. Then he pointed to a large black heap at the mist's edge. "That's Vader, or it was. We attacked the Emperor together. He couldn't defend against both of us at the same time, so he struck down the greater threat. Poor Vader. He wanted to share ruling the Empire so much. He never knew that I used him, that all I wanted was for the Empire to fall. I thought this would be a fitting tribute for him, though."
Skywalker indicated the burn marks on Palpatine's face. Suddenly Mara could see how the burns resembled the lines of Vader's breath mask, and she cried out in anger. Palpatine's dead, staring eyes held her own, seeming to accuse her. I will never rest until he is dead, they seemed to say. With one swift step, she seemed to close the distance to Skywalker's side in an instant. He froze in surprise, as if seeing her for the first time. She lashed out with her hand at his throat, bringing him to his knees, choking. Mara calmly picked up his fallen lightsaber and activated it. "You killed him, Skywalker," she said grimly. "Now I'll kill you." His left hand was the first thing to go.
In her hospital bed, Mara Jade's tormented expression smoothed out and shifted to a small tight smile.
\*
When Mara Jade awoke, she had a splitting headache. She didn't dare to sit up, but she turned to face the Emdee droid that stood by her bedside. "Just relax, Mara Jade," the droid soothed. "You were found unconscious in Manarai Hall, in the old section of the palace. You almost slipped into a coma, but you seem to have recovered from your trauma. I can find no further signs of trouble. When you feel up to it, you may leave. I do suggest you seek out the advice of a specialist. We could not discover the reason for your trauma, and it may recur. And now, citizen, I have other patients to attend to. I wish you well." The droid glided away.
"Thank you," she called after it. Mara lay still, thinking about her situation. She could still vividly recall her vision, and fragments of nightmares flitted through her memory. They had all been of killing Skywalker. He wasn't dead though. Not yet. She knew she had to do something about that, but right now, she was in no shape to do anything. Her master was dead. And what was she now? Where could she go? No one knew her, no one knew what she did. No one knew of the power she had possessed; they all saw her as the Emperor's lovely companion. In a twinkling, she had lost everything. Maybe the only meaning left to her was to fulfill Palpatine's last directive, to kill Skywalker.
Well, she would try, but she had to be realistic. He would be no easy target, and it might take her years to find him. She might as well leave Coruscant, even though she had no idea where she might go. But first, she would get rid of her headache. She began to try to channel the Force to ease her pain, and was astonished to discover she couldn't sense the Force at all. The walls of her tiny room seemed like true boundaries. She couldn't sense anyone or anything beyond them. It was like losing a basic sense like eyesight or hearing. Enhanced perceptions she had come to take for granted were completely gone. Now Mara Jade began to despair. She felt awful. Palpatine was dead, and now she had lost the Force, too. Had her abilities all depended on his being alive, somehow? She felt violated, robbed. The Emperor's greatest gift to her had been torn from her. Without the Force, how could she ever hope to defeat, let alone find, a Jedi?
She brooded for a long time, and finally decided that she would indeed leave Coruscant. Perhaps that would stop her nightmares of the Emperor's death. She would take one thing with her that the Emperor had owned. In his chambers was the lightsaber that had belonged to Skywalker's mentor, Kenobi. She would go claim it and make her way to the starport. With that weapon, Skywalker's death would be that much more satisfying.
\*
Sate Pestage was just finishing instructing a team of ISB agents to track down Mara Jade and bring her to him, when he received a summons and a notification from Ars Dangor that the advisors, the Moffs, and COMPNOR's select committee would be assembled within two hours.
Pestage knew it was necessary to organize their response to the fiasco at Endor, but he would just as soon not be directly involved. Evidently, Ars Dangor felt differently. If Dangor was going to announce his candidacy for leadership, he would want Sate Pestage's vote of approval in front of the other advisors. Well, he wasn't going to get it. The Empire could survive without an emperor until the true Emperor was restored. Pestage would attend as required of him, but he was anxious to get back to the task of locating Mara Jade. He chose his most somber looking garment, one with only a few jewels along the hem, and began to get ready. Hopefully, the ISB agents would be successful while he was occupied.
\*
Mara Jade fumed as she waited in Ars Dangor's office, under guard by a CompForce soldier. She had left the hospital, finally, but before she could reach Palpatine's suite, she had been cornered by this oafish trooper. "Excuse me," he had said, halting her and consulting a datapad. "You are Mara Jade, is that correct?"
She had seen no point in denying it. "Yes, what is it?" she had snapped.
"I have orders to escort you to the office of Chief Imperial Advisor Dangor for a private meeting. If you would please come with me?" She had complied, not wanting to make a scene, and ended up here, sitting in Dangor's office for the past hour. She turned once more to the guard, who was without doubt a poor conversationalist.
"What is this all about?" she asked for the fourth time. "Where is the Chief Advisor?"
"I've told you, I don't have that information. The Chief Advisor will be here to see you shortly." He stared at the far wall, saying nothing else.
Mara tried to bore a hole in his head with her eyes, but instead, she felt as if she were the one with the hole. Her headache had not relented, but she had grown somewhat used to it. A few minutes later, Dangor arrived, wearing that black robe similar to Palpatine's. She regarded him with respect but not awe. "Mara Jade, my dear, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but this is a very busy day. Thank you guard, you may leave." Once the guard was gone, Dangor motioned for her to take a more comfortable seat on a small couch.
"What's this all about?" she asked, sitting.
"All right then, we'll get directly to the point." Dangor stood in front of her. "I'm going to tell you something that only a few hundred people know at this moment. The news will reach the whole planet within another day, but hopefully we'll be ready for that. You see, our great Emperor has fallen. He is dead in battle with the rebel alliance. Someone needs to take his place, and I feel that person should be me -" Dangor looked at her in concern. "Are you unwell?"
Mara had been reacting with convincing surprise at the news of Palpatine's death, but when Dangor had mentioned his being the new Emperor, her headache had intensified severely. She had grimaced and put her hands to her temples. "Yes, I'm all right, just a headache I've been having. Really. Please, go on...so, my Lord is dead?" Mara fought back the pain and put on a solemn expression.
"Yes, well," continued Dangor, "the Emperor would certainly want his throne to pass to one he trusted as much as myself, who was so much like him, and who he had groomed for power for so many years. If I am chosen, and the throne becomes mine, I want you to know that you will not have to leave. I know how you served Palpatine, and I would like to retain you in that capacity." Mara looked at him in surprise. How did he know about the Emperor's Hand? "You are quite a prize," Dangor went on. "Very lovely indeed. I can see why Palpatine enjoyed you so much, and indeed, I have admired your beauty for a long time. With great power comes great loneliness, and someone like you would be wonderful for helping me to avoid that."
Mara was at a loss for words. Her mouth opened, then closed, her eyes wide. "You don't need to decide at this moment, my dear," Dangor said, "but you would be wise to say yes. Hard times are on the horizon, and I can give you protection and wealth. Think about it. I shall see you in a few hours. Until then, Mara Jade." Dangor gave a little bow, smiling, then called for a guard. "Please escort this woman to my quarters and keep her there to await my return. Mara Jade, I have business to attend to, but I look forward to the pleasure of your company." He left her with the guard, who motioned for her to precede him.
As she walked to Dangor's rooms, Mara's Jade's head was spinning. Her headache was terrible, and Dangor's conception of her was suddenly degrading and humiliating to her, despite all that she had done to contribute to it. She wanted to get out of the palace, to slip away unnoticed with Kenobi's lightsaber. For now, she would have to play along with Dangor's conceited game. It couldn't be any worse than dancing for the Hutt had been. The guard let her into Dangor's chambers, then closed the door, no doubt stationing himself outside.
He was a CompForce trooper, fanatically loyal to the New Order. His kind always overdid everything. Mara stared at the sparse furnishings and austere decor. It was a cheap imitation of Palpatine's rooms, she realized. Palpatine had tolerated Dangor's imitation, valuing him for his competence and loyalty, but he had never really thought of the Chief Advisor as being very intelligent. Mara knew that her master would never have given so much power to anyone with the ability to ever be his rival. She had no doubt that, if he were alive, he would be fairly angry that Dangor even thought he was fit to rule.
Mara's headache worsened, and she groaned a little. She noticed the computer terminal in one corner, and, one hand held to her head, she sat down at it. One thing was for sure, she wasn't just going to sit in here doing nothing. She would see exactly what the Chief Advisor was up to.
Mara accessed the palace security cameras, using the access codes taught to her by Palpatine. She scanned through several dozen scenes before one arrested her gaze, a huge hall full of people. It was the central Hall of Address, where Ars Dangor traditionally delivered speeches on behalf of Palpatine to be broadcast to the galaxy over the holonet. She recognized the uniforms of the COMPNOR leadership, the militaristic ranks of the Moffs, and the riot of multicultural fashions worn by the hundreds of Imperial advisors.
An empty podium faced these rows upon rows of the Empire's elite. Something major was in store; no doubt she was about to see Dangor's bid for power. The crowd continued to murmur with anxiety. She could pick out several discussions focused on the rumors of the Emperor's death. Then a hush fell over the assembly. Dangor entered, his resemblance to Palpatine rather eerie under the circumstances. He seemed to be using it to his full advantage; he moved like Palpatine and kept his hood over his face. When he reached the podium, he waited for total silence. He pulled back his hood, and his gaze touched each of the major groups present.
When he spoke, it was with the practiced, ringing tones he had perfected in countless addresses in this hall. "Honorable Moffs, the Select Committee, the Advisors of the Imperium, and the Emperor's Grand Vizier, welcome." Now, Mara Jade noticed Sate Pestage seated near the podium, looking uncomfortable. "This is a day of great sorrow. What you have heard is true. Our Emperor is lost to us. The Empire is bereft of its guide and master. Emperor Palpatine created this mighty galactic government. He built it, he shaped it, he brought it to a level of power and glory that rivals even the Old Republic of legend. Palpatine truly was the Empire. With his great leadership, he forged an awesome future for all of us. But that future is now in question."
"Today, we must ask ourselves, can the Empire that Palpatine created live on without him? Can a new Emperor take up his mantle and lead us onward? Many of you will think, no, he can never be replaced. He should never have needed to be replaced. He was eternal. Well I tell you, no one of us is eternal. This day was inevitable. Nature dictated it. Some of you may believe that the cursed rebel alliance greatly hastened the coming of this day, that by their treacherous murder of Palpatine, they stole from the Emperor and from us many decades of his wise rule. I am here to reveal to you that his rule was neither wise nor apt to last. "This is the Emperor as you knew him." Dangor produced a hologram of Palpatine as a commanding, middle-aged man, no longer young but still strong. "This is the Emperor as he really was." The holo was replaced by a very recent image of the Emperor. He was, of course, terribly aged, his flesh deeply ravaged by the toll the dark side had taken on him. Most of those present had never seen him like this. Exclamations of shock and disgust filled the hall. Even those who knew joined in the outrage, for now, their fear of the Emperor was gone. It took quite a while for order to be restored. But eventually, the huge crowd turned to Dangor for an explanation of this revelation.
"He lied to you all about his age and his health," Dangor's voice boomed. "He had one foot in the grave already when he died, but he never told you. He wanted his power to be absolute up to the end. But the end...the end was something he brought on himself! "He was obsessed with the rebel alliance. Despite the fact that they could never have defeated the Empire on their own, he was consumed with the desire to wipe them out completely. He created an elaborate trap to lure them to their final destruction at Endor. He also hoped to kill the famed rebel, Luke Skywalker, another of his obsessions. But Palpatine was the architect of his own failure. He placed himself at risk on board an unfinished battle station. His only protection was a defense shield, and reports from Endor tell us that the rebels easily destroyed that. He was destroyed along with all those on the Death Star, once his inherently suicidal plan reached its fruition. The Imperial fleet was crippled, and Lord Vader has died as well." Mara noticed several people looking relieved at that news.
"Did Palpatine know he was going to die? Did he want to take his Empire with him? Did he mean for us all to go down as well? Did he gamble so outrageously because he knew he was going to lose it all anyway?" Dangor paused to let all of this sink in. Mara saw that Sate Pestage was ashen faced at what Dangor was doing. It was all a lie, but it was infinitely more believable than the truth. Palpatine had created a lie himself, to screen his true nature from the galaxy. Dangor was taking brilliant advantage of that. Now Dangor spoke into the complete silence. "There is a question we have not yet asked. What of an heir? Is there an heir to the Empire? A son or daughter to inherit his power? Even a chosen successor, designated by Palpatine to take over when he was gone? Was there even a procedure set up for choosing a successor? The answer is no! There is no heir! No one to be the successor! Or, if there is, the information is sealed in the Emperor's Personal Archive. I have tried to look there. It would be of utmost importance to me to see Palpatine's designated heir placed on the throne according to his wishes. But the archive has been permanently closed! The information in it, which alone could tell us who Palpatine might have envisioned as his heir, is denied to us. We can only conclude that there was never meant to be an heir. Palpatine meant for the Empire to die when he did. "And who among us, since Palpatine is dead, has closed the Archive? Who is assisting the dead, deceitful ruler in dealing this comprehensive death blow to the Empire? It is none other than Palpatine's Grand Vizier, Sate Pestage! The man who saw Palpatine as he really was, and helped to keep his secret. Who filled the senile Emperor's ears with encouragement for his fatal obsessions and support for his ruinous policies! Who even now sits guilty among us, ready to finish the job that Palpatine started, to see that the Empire completes the fall to its doom!"
Mara looked on with horror. Dangor was totally in command of the assembly. And the old man whom he somehow saw as a rival for the throne was helpless before his poisonous assault. "Sate Pestage, as Grand Vizier to the fallen Emperor, you are accused of treason to the Empire. You used you position of intimacy with the Emperor to shield him from any views that may have dissuaded him from his path to destruction. The advice of Palpatine's advisors, such as myself, fell on deaf ears because you deafened them, because you kept our voices from being heard."
And here Mara Jade saw the emotions of the crowd shift firmly against Sate Pestage. It was a masterstroke by Dangor, for in truth, many of those gathered hated Pestage for that very reason. Whenever any of them were commanded to contact Palpatine, or desired to speak with him, they often had to wait for hours, on bended knee. And the only face they saw, the only voice they heard during those humiliating vigils was that of Sate Pestage. Pestage, who passed on his master's wishes to them, and who guarded his master's time by deciding who would gain his ear and who would not, became the natural focus for the hate born of that humiliation. The advisors, the Moffs, and the COMPNOR officials could all share in the feeling evoked by Dangor.
And, truth be told, their shock at seeing Palpatine so old still coursed through them, and they focused their distaste for that vision of decrepit weakness upon the similarly aged form of Sate Pestage. Angry mutterings began to sound out everywhere, and Dangor allowed them to grow. Then he turned on Sate Pestage and channeled the accusation of the assembly at him. "Do you have anything to say in your defense? You have been accused of treason, and the penalty is death."
Pestage slowly stood. Mara marveled at his dignity and bearing as he faced Dangor. He must have seen how he was being set up, how he was being eliminated as the one person who might have claimed executive power in Dangor's place. But he didn't show any signs of anger on his suddenly serene face. Pestage spoke softly, so that most of the audience couldn't hear it. The security microphones picked up his words, however, and Mara heard him say to Dangor, "You have betrayed our master. One day, you will pay for your crimes. I will not deny your accusations, for I did indeed seal the Archive. The master's secrets are not for such as you to know. Nor will I accept death at your hands. I choose exile from Imperial space, as is my undeniable right under law. I shall never return to your Empire." Then, Pestage walked out of the great auditorium, although as he reached the door, he was joined by CompForce soldiers who took his arms. He did not resist.
Dangor was disoriented. His "script" for the proceedings was disrupted. He watched Pestage go with troubled eyes. Then he seemed to come back to himself. He faced the gathering once more. "The traitor has admitted his acts with his own voice. He has chosen exile from the Empire, never to return."
Voices of protest rose up to him. Chief among them was the loud cry of Tarn Gemillian, the advisor from Mandalore. He clearly wanted Pestage to face execution, and he was trying to rally others to press the issue. But Dangor could not allow distractions from his main purpose. Those who wanted an execution would have to be satisfied with an exile. "No! Listen to me - it is his right under the law. That will be enough justice. Let us give no further thought to him. Now we must turn our minds to the future! Despite the worst Palpatine and his Vizier were able to do, we still have a chance to preserve the Empire. We need a new leader - a strong leader who can run the Empire well - who is known and respected - a leader who can be trusted not to hide in the shadows in this time of crisis. There is no heir! One among us must be chosen. The time for that choice is now." Dangor waited. All depended on the next few moments. He had revealed the truth to them, alerted them to danger, rooted out a traitor from their midst, and stood before them like a vision of the Emperor they had thought they knew, and had believed in. Would they accept him as Palpatine's replacement?
Then, several of the advisors stood, and one of them called out, "Will you lead us, Ars Dangor?" Dangor still said nothing. Several more advisors rose. They began to call to him, "Dangor, you must lead us! You are the only choice!" The advisors were the easy part. He already led them. But then the Moffs and the Grand Moffs began to stand. Perhaps they realized that if one of them were to try to claim power, the others would fight him for it, no matter who he was. They added their voices to a growing chant, "Dangor! Dangor! Dangor!"
The number of standing people steadily increased. Then, even the COMPNOR officials stood. Their loyalty was, after all, to the New Order, and they would go along with any means of preserving it. Before long, the entire gathering of several thousand people was standing and chanting. It was deafening. Mara was stunned. And then the chant became, "Emperor Dangor! The Emperor!" Dangor gave a deep bow, and Mara felt such a black anger build up inside her mind that she lurched away from the screen and fell to her knees. A violent surge of hatred coursed through her, blotting out any rational thought. She stiffened, and finally all thought left her as her consciousness went spiraling down into blackness.
\*
Ars Dangor, the new Emperor, left the Hall of Address and hurried back to his quarters. He was heady with excitement. The throne was his!
The adulation of the people would be directed at him alone! Of course, he also knew he would have to face the harsh realities of the crisis, but why shouldn't he be allowed a moment of triumph? For years he had run the day-to-day business of the Empire. Now he had the true power that went with that responsibility. He had earned this. Dangor reached his quarters, and the guard by the door bowed to him. Now why was there a guard - ? Oh yes. Mara Jade was inside waiting for him. What a perfect way to celebrate his victory. She would certainly be his now that he actually was Emperor. Dangor licked his lips in anticipation as he dismissed the guard and opened the ornate door.
"Mara Jade," he called, "I've come for you, as you knew I would."
\*
Mara Jade was inside the new Emperor's chambers, but she was not seeing them as they really were. All around her were Palpatine's things, and they were all spattered with his blood. Cradled in her arms was her beloved master, dead in a pool of his own vital fluids. Palpatine's wounds were horrible. They had been made with a lightsaber, that was clear, but they were designed to make his death a slow one. Indeed, she had found him while he was still breathing.
"Mara Jade," he had whispered in his agony, "It was the Jedi, Skywalker. It was Skywalker." He had coughed up a great deal of blood, and even more had spilled from the terrible open wound in his stomach. He was so very old and frail, so weak and helpless. He had managed to tell her of how Skywalker had found him weaponless, how the rebel had toyed with him, cutting him first on the leg, then the chest, stalking him around the room as he bled in his terror. The final cut had left him to die slowly. He had finally died in Mara's arms. Suddenly the door opened. Someone was invading Palpatine's rooms.
A robed figure stepped in. It was the Jedi, Skywalker. "Mara Jade, I've come for you, as you knew I would," he said. He walked over to her. "I am Emperor now. I have taken the throne." He smiled. "Now it's your turn." Mara leaped to her feet. She snarled at the arrogant Jedi, so secure in his ability to kill her as well. That wasn't going to happen. She had no weapons, but her bare hands would suffice. She lunged for Skywalker, catching him by the throat before he could bring out his lightsaber. He looked just like he had in Jabba's palace, but now his boyish looks were suffused with shock and fear. Her hands were still covered with Palpatine's blood as she pressed her fingers deeply into his flesh. Skywalker choked, struggled, pleaded in gasps. "-no-ah-ah-wha-you-do-ss-sss-sto-" But Mara used all her skills as an assassin, countering his struggles and pressing home the death he deserved.
"You killed the Emperor," she hissed into his face. "You've earned this, Skywalker!"
The Jedi had begun to turn purple. He barely managed to rasp, "-y-you-m-make-m-mis-take-ah-", and then he had no more breath left for words.
Then a strange look came over Mara Jade's face, and she suddenly grinned wickedly. Her voice deepened and became more sibilant as she bore down mercilessly, finally, upon Skywalker. "Oh no, Ars Dangor, you will find that it is you who are mistaken, about a great many things." At last, the man in Mara Jade's iron grasp died, his throat crushed. He sprawled at her feet. Mara Jade staggered back and turned to the body of her master. "I have avenged you," she said, and then she stared in surprise as the corpse and all the bloodstains dispersed like smoke.
She spun to look at Skywalker's corpse, certain that she was in another nightmare, but it hadn't vanished. It had changed. Now she saw the dead, bulging eyes of Ars Dangor staring at her. She had just murdered the new Emperor. Mara checked his body to make sure he was dead, and to dispel any doubt that it was an illusion. She felt dizzy. What was happening to her? Normally, she was able to adapt to swiftly changing situations, but this was too much. Her headache still tormented her, she was unsure of what was real, and now, she realized, she was in a world of trouble. The entire crime must have been recorded by palace security cameras. Palpatine monitored all the rooms of his advisors. Even now, security might be on its way to take her into custody, or even kill her on sight. She had to flee. She forced herself to take stock of her options. One thing was certain, she needed to leave Coruscant.
After that, it was possible that she would be hunted, so she would have to change her identity and go into hiding. Her first task was to get out of the palace and find a ship to steal or stow away on. That would be facilitated by her knowledge of the secret passages of the palace, and of the security systems. She could come and go like a ghost, and they would never suspect her of being able to do so. She decided she would take two things with her. One was Kenobi's lightsaber. The other was going to be tricky, but she felt she owed it to Palpatine. She was going to free Sate Pestage from his undeserved imprisonment and see that he got to go anywhere in the galaxy that he wanted to. He had served Palpatine faithfully to the end, and it was justice that he not be mistreated and exiled, without honor, to Wild Space. Now that Dangor was dead, Pestage might not even get the privilege of exile; in the chaos about to descend, he would probably become just another casualty. Mara tapped into the palace security systems through Dangor's computer, and disabled the cameras on all nine floors of the advisors' wing.
Swiftly, she left Dangor's quarters and hurried towards Palpatine's rooms. From there, she would have access to the secret ways. Behind her, the body of Ars Dangor lay very still, his hot stare definitely beginning to cool.
\*
Sate Pestage shifted uncomfortably on the hard slab that was the only furniture in his cell. He regarded the bars that imprisoned him. Beyond their super dense material was a sterile, empty corridor. He had had no visitors since he was deposited roughly here by the
CompForce troopers. The former Grand Vizier was alone with his dismal outlook. The thing that tortured him the most was how he had failed Palpatine. His master had placed his only chance for restoration in his hands, and what had he done? He had failed to find Mara Jade and he had underestimated Ars Dangor. Now there was a new Emperor, he was sure, and he, Sate Pestage, had only avoided execution by choosing exile.
Exile would take him to Wild Space, where he wouldn't survive long. He would be as far from Byss as it was possible to be and remain in the galaxy. He would never see Palpatine again. Now, for the first time since he had received the Emperor's final message, Sate Pestage felt despair. Even when he had known Palpatine was dead, he had not given in to despair, for he had to believe in the crazy hope that his master could be restored. He had clung to that, avoiding facing reality. But events had defeated him. Now, that cruel reality was his only companion. Sate Pestage was alone in the universe.
Twice before, he had felt thus bereft, but those times had been many years in the past. He had lost his beloved wife in childbirth. Even today, as he thought of her, he still felt a pang from the loss of his Gemsaa, so long ago. His son, his only child from her, sadly had not reminded him of her. Gemsaa had been so full of light. Her powers in the Force as a healer had been widely known and revered. But her son, Espaa, had been more at home in the shadows. He had been a serious child, who shunned other children and seldom laughed. Even so, Pestage had loved Espaa, for the child was all that was left of his bright Gemsaa.
One day, even that was taken from him; he was bereft a second time when strangers had arrived at his home to ask that his son be given to them. They identified themselves only as the Sith, a name that had meant nothing to him. He had refused, and despite that refusal, they had taken Espaa, stealing the boy in the night. And Pestage had been alone in the universe. What did it matter to him, that the strangers had spoken of his son's "destiny"? He had known only his loss. He could not quite recall what had kept him going during those bleak years. He wished he could remember, for he needed that something now. He did remember what had brought him back to life. He had found Palpatine, and found his life's work in the service of his awesome master. It was the meaning of his existence. A meaning that was now gone. Bootsteps in the hall intruded upon his misery. A group of four CompForce troopers marched into view, followed by a man dressed flamboyantly in metallic blue. It was Tarn Gemillian. Sate Pestage didn't get up.
Gemillian looked scornfully at him. "So, Grand Vizier. I see that your fortunes have fallen somewhat of late," Gemillian gloated. "You will no doubt be able to recall a certain day, several years ago, when you disgraced me in front of the Emperor. I told you that someday our positions would be reversed. I told you that someday, you would pay. You probably didn't ever think that day would come to pass. But the late Ars Dangor has given me that gift, and so here we are." Gemillian smiled meanly. "Grand Vizier, your expression betrays you, even as you sit in silence. You didn't know Ars Dangor was dead." Gemillian shrugged his shoulders. "The new Emperor's reign was a short one indeed! A young woman named Mara Jade strangled him in his own room. She is being hunted, of course, and she'll be executed, but the damage is done. Dangor was the only chance we had to fend off riots and destruction here in the city. There will be many dead before the morning comes. I don't think you had anything to do with that. But there is still the old score that I have to settle with you. Who will notice one more death, especially that of an old man, and a traitor to boot?" Gemillian stepped close to the bars and looked straight into Pestage's eyes. "Have you nothing to say? Nothing? Well then. This is goodbye. You may have thought you were clever, choosing exile, but I cannot allow that. So sorry, old man. "Guards. As soon as I am gone, kill him." Gemillian gave a small bow, and strutted out of sight.
Still Sate Pestage did not stand, or even turn away. He had accepted his own death already. There was nothing left in life for him. He looked steadily at the troopers, as they fingered their blasters.
Suddenly there was an electric hum, and a bright blue bar of light flashed among the soldiers. They screamed and fell, revealing a young woman with red-gold hair. Her green eyes glittered in the sharp glare of an ignited lightsaber, held ready for further combat. But no other troops appeared, and she relaxed a fraction.
"Grand Vizier Pestage," she said, "I've come to escort you to freedom."
He stared in wonderment at the vision of redemption before him. Joy flared within him, burning as brightly as the Jedi weapon held by the young woman. "I would be pleased to accept your kind offer, Mara Jade, Emperor's Hand," he said tremulously, "but there is the small matter of my confinement." He gestured at the bars. Mara looked steadily at him for a moment, her eyes shining. Then, with two sweeping strokes of her lightsaber, she severed the bars, top and bottom. They fell with a clatter to the floor, and Pestage gingerly stepped over them and into the hall.
"What did that man have against you, anyway?" asked Mara.
Pestage frowned. "A few years ago, on his homeworld, the rebel alliance was making great progress in winning over the sympathies of the planetary government. Had the Emperor known, he would have punished Mandalore with a fleet of Star Destroyers, but Gemillian didn't want to lose his vast land holdings. So he hid the information from the Emperor. I merely informed the Emperor of the truth. Gemillian never truly had the ear of the Emperor again, having been shown to be a liar."
"Why keep him on at all?" Mara wanted to know.
"The Emperor liked there to be rivalry and scheming among his advisors. Gemillian was very good for that. So why waste good talent?" Pestage said simply.
Mara let the matter drop, and led Pestage to a secret door at the far end of the cell block. "Sometimes the Emperor would come here to interrogate his prisoners in his own special way, privately," Mara explained.
"Yes, I know," said Pestage. "It was very thoughtful of him to have planned for our escape like this."
Together, they vanished into the dimly lit corridor, sealing it invisibly behind them.
\*
Mara Jade and Sate Pestage descended into the tunnels far below the palace. Imperial City had been built up like rock strata upon the structures of days gone by, so that going down was like going back in time. Soon, they passed beyond the gleaming, modern corridors with artificial light, and entered halls of stone where the only light was the glare of Mara's lightsaber. Now and then, they saw creatures in the shadows that resembled Womp rats the size of Nerfs, but these were evidently scared of the light and quickly vanished into their hiding places. Mara hurried along, followed by a puffing Sate Pestage, who was pushing his scarecrow like body as fast as it would go.
"What...what are we rushing for?" Sate Pestage breathed heavily, "surely we would never face pursuit down here!"
She turned, realizing for the first time how he was struggling to keep up. "I'm sorry, Grand Vizier," she said, "we can rest a moment. I'm not worried about being followed. I'm worried about them closing the starports to...to keep me from escaping." She paused, looking pained.
"Tarn Gemillian told me that you killed Ars Dangor. Is this true?" Sate Pestage asked softly.
"Yes, it's true. But I don't know how it happened. I didn't mean to do it. I didn't even know I was doing it...but then he changed, and he was dead, and - I think I'd better start from the beginning, huh?" Mara put a hand to her temple, and, not facing Pestage, told him the story. "It started for me yesterday, when I saw the Emperor die." Pestage peered at her in surprise. "I was in Manarai hall when I saw it in a vision. Lord Vader and Skywalker turned on him and killed him. It was awful. He looked at me, and he looked so betrayed. He told me I had to kill Skywalker. I blacked out, and had nightmare after nightmare of doing just that, in so many ways...so many ways. As for Vader, I think he's already dead. He was dead in all my nightmares...that must mean something. When I woke up, I had a splitting headache, and my ability to sense the Force, to use it in any way, was gone. I've had to deal with that loss, the loss of the Emperor, and on top of all that, I can't help but feel that it was all my fault." She started to weep softly. Pestage put a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, and said, "I had the chance to kill Skywalker on Tatooine. I was sent there to do it, and I failed. I failed. And now he's dead."
Pestage felt the deep hurt of this young woman, and he knew he could help with at least part of it. "It wasn't your fault," he said gently. "The Emperor must have known he might die, and he had a message prepared in advance to send to me if it happened. In it, he told me to get myself to a safe place, and to see that you were safe as well. He knew it wasn't your fault, and he didn't blame you. He may want you to kill this Skywalker, but Palpatine's death was something he chose to face. But you were telling me about Ars Dangor."
"Well," she continued, "Dangor sent his men to get me while I was still pretty messed up. It turned out he wanted me for his pleasure. He thought I was Palpatine's lover, and because he was going to take the throne, he wanted to claim me, too. I felt degraded, but not enough to kill him. I was sent to his rooms, where I broke into the security systems. I watched the meeting where he set you up, and took you down. Again, I was angry, but not that angry. But when he was actually declared Emperor, I felt such a rage that...that I blacked out. Then - this is the really strange part - I thought I was having another nightmare. Palpatine was dead at my feet, and Skywalker came back to kill me, too. This time, I strangled him with my bare hands. After he was dead, I could see that he was really Dangor. I wouldn't have killed him. I only wanted to escape from him and leave the planet. I don't know what's wrong with me." She looked into Pestage's eyes. "You don't know what it meant to me, when you called me Emperor's Hand. I was feeling like no one knew who I was anymore. It - it just meant a lot to me." She took his hand, holding it warmly.
Pestage was thinking furiously. Something incredible was beginning to dawn on him. There was Palpatine's order for him to bring Mara to Byss, the nightmares and headaches she was having, the blackouts, and her hatred of Dangor when he became Emperor. He didn't know how it could have happened, but he suddenly understood that he was in the presence of his master. Palpatine existed within the mind of this young woman. "What you did meant a lot to me, too, Mara Jade," he told her. "You saved my life, and I owe you more than you will ever know. But there is something else I need to ask of you. There is a world in the Deep Core called Byss, where the Emperor has a stronghold of those loyal to him. I would be safe there. We both need to escape, we are both fugitives. Would you help me to reach there? Perhaps you, too, can find a home there."
"I'll take you anywhere you need to go. That was part of my plan. But how are we going to get off planet?"
"Don't worry about that, Mara Jade. I know of the ideal transport. The Emperor's personal shuttlecraft is in a docking bay near the palace. If you can pilot it, it can get us free of Coruscant."
She clasped Pestage's hands firmly with her own. "Can I pilot it? Does a Wookiee live in the trees? Let's get out of here!"
Pestage smiled at her, and they moved off in a different direction, sharing hope like the first taste of food after a long fast.
\*
Emerging from the secret ways late that night, the fugitives found themselves in a quiet docking bay, empty of other people. Before them, a Lambda class shuttle crouched like a white bird with its wings folded. Sate Pestage motioned for Mara to stay put, then he walked up to the open boarding ramp that beckoned invitingly. "Sate Pestage, Grand Vizier, code SGW0027, deactivate defense systems." He turned back to Mara. "It's all right now, we can get on board."
She climbed the ramp, looking nervously around her. "What would have happened if I had been alone?" she asked.
"You would now be dead," Pestage told her. "This ship is equipped with the navicomputer programs necessary to penetrate the Deep Core, and the recognition signals for bypassing the Hyperspace Security net. It would not do to let those things fall into the wrong hands."
Mara followed him into the cockpit of the little craft. She immediately began activating the ship's systems and monitoring communications from Imperial City. "I'm getting some information you should know about," she said to Pestage after a minute. "There's a total blackout on holonet transmissions, and traffic to and from Coruscant has been prohibited. That might slow down or even prevent any pursuit from the ground, but listen to this. A lot of the surviving Star Destroyers from Endor have returned at Dangor's orders, and are now in orbit. There are a lot of very angry, very confused Captains up there demanding to know what's going on down here. And no one's answering them. Imperial City doesn't want the news from Endor to get out until they're ready for it. Things haven't fallen apart yet, but they could at any moment. We'll have to fly right through a fleet of Star Destroyers to get away from Coruscant -"
"And they could easily capture us or shoot us down, depending on their mood, which is no doubt poor," finished Pestage. "Don't worry - I said this ship could get us away from here and it will. The Emperor has given us a little insurance."
Mara finished her preparations. "All right, Grand Vizier, here goes nothing. You'd better know what you're talking about." The shuttle rose up, wings unfolding into a triangular configuration, and shot out of the bay into the night sky of Coruscant, the city spread out below them like a glittering tapestry. Mara pushed the shuttle for all the speed she could coax out of it, and, as she had guessed, nothing rose up to intercept them. Driving towards the upper atmosphere, Mara powered up the weapons systems. Her scanners registered no less than twelve Imperial Star Destroyers directly above her. Her skin prickled as she pictured their hundreds of turbolasers locking onto the tiny craft.
Sate Pestage was completely calm. He touched a switch with his long, thin finger, and sat back in his seat, smiling slightly. The shuttle continued to climb, leaving the atmosphere behind. The stars became sharp pinpoints of light as they came within visual range of the enormous wedge shaped cruisers. Mara fought the urge to turn and flee, and they hurtled past the fleet, at a distance of less than ten kilometers. Suddenly the Imperial ships were dwindling behind them, and they were in the clear. Mara let out a whoop of relief and called up the coordinates for the hyperspace journey to Byss.
"You see," said Pestage, "this ship broadcasts a code that tells the computers of any other Imperial ships not to fire, and not to lock on a tractor beam. Palpatine never wanted to be in danger of becoming the victim of a quick and easy coup by an ambitious admiral while he traveling in such a tiny vessel as this. So, they may have tried, but they couldn't shoot at this shuttle. We were perfectly safe."
Mara stared at Pestage as the stars out of the viewport flared into starlines. "I've got to hand it to you," she said with admiration, "this is some rescue."
\*
Sate Pestage awoke in his tiny makeshift bunk on the shuttle to the sound of Mara Jade's screams. She was clearly in the grip of her nightmares. Pestage was hesitant to approach her, recalling what had happened to Dangor. Why do you torment her so, my master, he wondered silently, looking sorrowfully at the restless form of the young woman. She tossed and turned, seeming to grapple with the air. She struck at nothing, and slumped down into a dreamless sleep once more.
Pestage waited a few minutes, then, judging it to be safe, he gently prodded her awake. Groggily, she looked at him, grimacing in pain. She still had her headache. "Are you all right, Mara?" Pestage asked her.
"Not really," she said, "I can't say I'm in any way right." Her eyes had a haunted look. "I may never be all right again. I can't shake this headache, I feel so empty, cut off from the Force. And the nightmares...I can remember that last one. The Emperor was dead, and Skywalker had his head on a sort of pike. I come in, and he doesn't seem to think of me as a real threat. He just sort of laughs. And this time I have this really wicked knife. I throw it, and it hits Skywalker in the eye. But he isn't dead. He comes at me, and we struggle hand to hand. Then I'm able to punch the knife hilt, and drive the blade all the way in. Of course, he dies then. And the dream ends with my putting his head on the pike. I don't know what's happening to me. When I kill, it's clean, fast, as efficient as possible, as painless as possible. You don't make it as an assassin by putting on some kind of scene from a horror holovid. I don't understand where these ideas, this hate, comes from."
Pestage thought he knew very well, but he had his orders not to let Mara Jade know about her role. Still, he pitied her. Palpatine was using her; when she would have obeyed him on her own, he was driving her to obey. And why was Palpatine taking that approach? Pestage thought he knew that, too. He had come to believe that it had been Vader who most likely would have, or could have, killed the Emperor. The young Jedi didn't seem powerful enough, and from what Pestage knew, the boy wouldn't have joined Vader in an evil act, either. No, Vader must have done it, and died in the process, while Skywalker survived.
It would be entirely like Palpatine to hate Skywalker and want him dead, just for not surrendering and not dying. And so, he had to twist the truth for Mara Jade to carry out his "revenge". Still, Pestage would not defy his master. He would have to hope that all this would work out for the best, somehow. "I'm sick of dwelling on death," Mara said, looking up sadly. "I want to talk about him, about what he meant to us, while he was alive. I need to mourn him in a healthier way than this."
"Yes, we can do that. He was very important to both of us. You know, there are really very few people in the galaxy who really knew him, who would mourn him at all. We may be the only two. It is very hard to love someone who is really above humanity...who is so much a part of his power, when that power is so very great. It is too easy to give in to things like awe and fear. But somehow, we two managed not to. There are very good reasons why that is so, I think."
"He seemed like a father to me, I suppose," Mara replied, hugging her knees. "When both of my parents died in an accident, he saw that I had caretakers on Coruscant. He came to see me, teaching me things as I grew up. I came to admire him, and he showed me that I could do amazing things. He gave me pride in myself."
Sate Pestage nodded, encouraging her to go on. "One day," she said, smiling, "he made me his special agent. It felt great to be trusted with so many secrets. To have that special ability to hear his call from anywhere, instantly. It gave me an identity. The Emperor's Hand." She stopped for a moment, lost in memories.
Pestage had been with Palpatine for a long time, and he remembered the real story of how his master had found Mara Jade. Palpatine had learned through the Holocron that some people were born with the ability to instantly receive thoughts across vast distances - powerful receptive telepaths. He had cast out mentally for such a person, and found the tiny child, Mara Jade, on a distant world. He had had her parents "eliminated" and her brought to Coruscant to be raised. Her ability had served Palpatine very well indeed, and Pestage strongly suspected that it had served him one final time when he escaped from the second Death Star. Pestage decided that it would do much more harm than good for her to know these things. She had been used, yes, but also repaid with many gifts. And most importantly, she had been happy. For both Mara and himself, that said it all. "So you see," Pestage said, "a good reason. You thought of him as a father."
Pestage paused. He decided to tell her a secret. She had been deceived so much lately, and maybe she just deserved to hear some truth. "As for me," he said, "I believe I was his father." Mara's mouth fell open, but Pestage maintained a placid expression. He realized as he spoke that Palpatine may somehow be able to hear him. Somehow, that was all right. "I never told him, of course, and he never guessed. He never treated me as a father, and I never treated him as a son. But perhaps my long service to him will now be easier for you to understand."
Mara stammered, "That's incredible! But what do you mean, you 'believe' you were his father?"
Pestage told her the story of Gemsaa, and his stolen son, Espaa. "Many years passed, after I lost my son, during which I was alone. Then, I heard of the rise of Senator Palpatine to the Presidency. I was in the same place as him by chance, and he had come to make a speech. I watched him, and a strong feeling, a suspicion came over me. I felt a connection. I managed to get to see him, and I offered my services as his personal servant. He must have felt something, too, for he accepted at once. Over the years, I tried to find out for sure if he was my son, but I never could. He spoke of the Sith, however, the one word by which my son's captors identified themselves. And once, when I asked him about his parents, he said he never knew them. He was young enough when he was taken to have forgotten me. In any case, I believe it is true, and so, to serve the great being my son became was enough to fill my life with meaning."
"Why did you never tell him?" pressed Mara, who was spellbound. "To do so would have changed our relationship. He had to be the master. The Emperor. The one ruler of the galaxy and the greatest master of the Force. There could be no one above him that he could see. And so, I was content to serve him, to be close to him, and to share in his glory."
"I think I understand," said Mara. "He mastered both of us, but we wanted it that way."
They sat in silence for a while, then Pestage stirred. "You should get more sleep, Mara Jade," he said, and went back to his own sleeping spot in the shuttle. Eventually, Mara did go back to sleep. Pestage, who needed little sleep, listened to her breathing for a long time. She seemed to be having a dreamless rest. Perhaps Palpatine had been given something else to think about.
\*
The Emperor's shuttle emerged from hyperspace in the Deep Core, surrounded by a glorious profusion of stars. The closest was a binary, a blue star and its blue dwarf companion, and Pestage told Mara to plot a course for the world orbiting them. So they came at last to Byss, a world full of the energies of the dark side where the Emperor and his adepts had built a model of the galactic society they were striving for. Warm and peaceful blue-green sunlight shone on the billions of citizens that had followed the lure of this beautiful planet, and settled among the islands and canyons in the luxurious cities.
The life force of these billions was gently leeched away by the dark side adepts while they complacently enjoyed endless resort life. On Byss, the dark side had total sway without anyone firing a single shot. And Mara Jade could sense none of it. Mara flew over the Imperial Control Sector, which dominated an entire continent. She approached the Imperial Citadel, an enormous spire several kilometers high. Pestage informed her that, were it not for the recognition codes being broadcast by their ship, they would never have penetrated the defensive zone of the Citadel alive. As it was, they registered the tracking signatures of hundreds of turbolasers as they sailed smoothly into Palpatine's private docking bay. Three hundred Sovereign Protectors were ceremonially lined up in the bay to receive them.
Pestage and Mara descended the ramp and stood wearily before one of the Emperor's dark side adepts, Savuud Thimram. Thimram was visibly shocked to see the dirty, exhausted looking pair, and he could not suppress his anxious questions. "Grand Vizier! Where is the Emperor? We have heard rumors of his death, and indeed, we have felt the weakness in the dark side. You have come in the Emperor's personal transport. What can you tell us?"
Pestage summoned as much dignity as he could. "I would speak with you privately, Savuud. But first we need some rest. We have been mistreated and sorely pressed. See that quarters are prepared for us."
Pestage was looking at Thimram with a certain expression that signaled the adept to probe the old man's surface thoughts: Palpatine is dead, but there may yet be hope. He has somehow preserved himself in the mind of this woman. She must be brought to the clone labs as soon as possible.
Thimram nodded and signaled that he understood. He spoke rapidly into his comlink, then led Mara and Pestage out of the bay and into the halls of the Citadel. Mara stumbled along, and her face showed that she still needed a lot more sleep. Her headache was still plaguing her, and only the thought of a real bed kept her going. Thimram gave Pestage a significant look. They were nearing the clone labs. Stay close to her, Pestage thought.
And even as Thimram stepped near to Mara, she suddenly cried out, clutched at her head, and collapsed into the adept's arms. "It is done, my master," sighed Sate Pestage.
\*
"Are you sure you will not stay, Mara Jade?" asked the Grand Vizier. "Byss is a soothing place, it is said, and after your help in getting me here, the least you are owed is a secure life among those who were loyal to the Emperor."
Mara stared out at the beautiful city of lights, glistening under the five moons of Byss. They were standing in the Emperor's docking bay, several days after Mara's collapse. She had awakened in a comfortable bed, her headache gone at last. But her Force powers were still gone, and she had still dreamed of killing Skywalker. She had explored Byss for a while, but despite its beauty, she had only seen Palpatine's ghost, staring at her wherever she went. She knew she could never find peace here, not until she carried out the Emperor's last command. "I appreciate the offer," Mara said sadly, "but I have unfinished business to take care of." Her hand strayed to the lightsaber at her belt.
"Where will you go?" asked Pestage. "I'm not sure. I can't go to the Empire, or what's left of it, and I can't go to the rebels either. I suppose I'll try to survive on the Fringe...I don't know."
"At least you will accept this gift," Pestage said firmly, indicating the shuttle. "The coordinates of Byss will be erased when you leave, but the codes protecting you from hostile Imperials will still be there. I'll know you are safe."
"I accept," she smiled. "You know, I'm going to miss you. You're a good man. Thanks for sharing your secrets with me. I feel like you're my grandfather, in a way. Is that okay?" Pestage nodded, smiling. "May the Force be with you, Grand Vizier," Mara said, and went up into the shuttle.
"May the Force return to you, Mara Jade," he said softly, after her. A while later, the shuttle lifted off gracefully, and climbed for the stars. When it had dwindled to a distant point of light, Pestage heard quiet footsteps approach him from behind.
It was Palpatine. He was alive, and young again. He stood next to Pestage, not speaking, just sharing his presence with the man to whom he owed so much. "You may have mishandled her, Master," Pestage said after a while. "I'm not sure she will finally do as you wish."
"Only time will tell," Palpatine said simply. "The future is no longer...open to me."
"Are you well, Master?" Pestage asked.
"I am alive, Sate Pestage, but I have lost a great deal. My powers are at their lowest level in decades. My adepts have become my teachers, and they say I can be restored, but it will take years. Years while the rebels claim my galaxy."
"Master, there will be a chance to reclaim that, too, I am sure. When that day comes, you may encounter Luke Skywalker again. If you will accept my advice, I would ask you to consider that meeting with care. Perhaps it is not necessary to be his adversary. Perhaps you can turn him next time, and even make him the heir to your Empire."
"I will consider your words, Sate Pestage," Palpatine said. "With Vader gone, it may be the wisest course to follow. But that, too, must wait." Palpatine was silent for a time.
Pestage bowed slightly. "I will leave you to your thoughts, Master, and retire for the evening."
"Good night, Old Friend," said Palpatine. Pestage walked away, his robes whispering, and Palpatine stood gazing at the city. For now, it was all that was left of his Empire. That would have to be enough. The doors closed behind the Grand Vizier. Hearing that, Palpatine said quietly, "Good night, Father."
4
The Power of the Dark Side
"The Force is an energy field, fed by all living things. All living things have darkness within them that feeds the dark side of the Force. The universe rages. My own anger can unlock and unleash the anger of the cosmos. From this act flows the power of the dark side."
-From The Book of Anger
"Tell me, Savuud Thimram," said Palpatine, "why have you not betrayed me in my time of weakness?" The former Galactic Emperor leaned back in his chair, regarding the powerful adept across the heavy table.
Thimram hid it well, but a flicker of anxiety still showed in his thin semi-human face. The question had caught him by surprise. They had, after all, been deep in a discussion about the weakness of inferiors, such as the citizenry of Byss, and how their life energy was stolen by the adepts. Stolen to pay the price of physical decay demanded by the dark side. Savuud Thimram had never once thought of Palpatine as weak or inferior. Not even after Endor, when Palpatine had returned to Byss shorn of most of his dark might. To him, Palpatine would always simply be The Master. It was that fact that had led to Thimram being chosen as the adept who would guide Palpatine in his attempts to regain his power. Palpatine had always trusted Thimram, and trust was something rare among followers of the dark side.
So why was he asking about betrayal? Thimram was unable to block out vivid memories of the fates of others who had betrayed Palpatine in the past. Vader's death was one of the more gentle examples. He quickly buried those thoughts and forced himself to consider the question seriously. Thimram placed both hands on the table, formally showing that no Force generated attacks were being made. His small lips tight above his pointed chin, he took a moment to choose carefully how to answer. If his loyalty was in question, it was a serious matter.
"Before the events at Endor," Thimram began, "no one would have thought they could betray you and survive. Even Vader, deluded as he was, knew he took his life in his hands when he began to plan his treason. Your power was immense. You didn't need to be concerned about adepts like myself because your link to us gave you the ability to observe us at any time. But master, you must believe, I never even considered treason, and not simply because it would have meant my death. I was amazed by your strength and knowledge, and I have always felt fortunate that you have shared some of it with me. My loyalty was always that of the apprentice to the Master." Savuud paused, searching Palpatine's face for a hint of where this was leading.
The Master's emotions were hidden, and his expression was unreadable. Thimram had known that face in many guises. Just now it was the face of a man in his early thirties. Palpatine had aged very little since the day, two years ago, when he had left the mind of Mara Jade and returned to life in one of his own clones. But then, it was the heavy use of the power that led to accelerated aging, and Palpatine had been brought low. It was almost as if the dark side had withdrawn its favor from him. Perhaps the dark side was the most unforgiving Master of all.
"And now?" Palpatine prompted him quietly.
"And now..." Thimram felt a nervous dampness break out on his brown skin. "I am still your student, Master. Despite your raw strength being diminished, your knowledge has only grown. No one alive knows more than you about the lore of the dark side. Besides, with your determined research into new sources of power, it will not be long before your strength surpasses what it once was. There are rewards for loyalty to the true powers in life, especially for loyalty during hard times." Thimram tried to remain calm.
Palpatine continued to screen his thoughts. Thimram began to wonder if someone else had been trying to turn the Master against him. Palpatine leaned aggressively towards Thimram. "And yet, my research into the hidden lore is recorded in my archives and books. I have but few secrets that I have not committed to my compendium. If I were gone, you could use that knowledge to dominate all the other adepts. Byss would be yours. You are stronger than I am. Why not destroy me and take my place?"
Thimram decided to get to the bottom of this uncomfortable situation. Perfect frankness, although dangerous, was called for. "Master, I must assure you of my present and continued loyalty. I don't covet your position, nor do I think I'm suited for it. If someone has been informing you to the contrary, I tell you it is a lie. To oppose you, even now, in your 'weakness', would be folly. Here on Byss, you are secure in your fortress. Four hundred Sovereign Protectors remain absolutely loyal to you. My own powers, formidable though they are, couldn't preserve my life against them. You control hundreds of Sentinels as well. Again, I'd dismiss my chances of survival against so many of those giants. Then there are the Stormtroopers, the Royal Guard, and all your technology. Of what use would your destruction be, if I didn't live to reap the rewards? And then there is the plain fact that if I tried to kill you right now, and succeeded, I still would have failed. You would transfer to a clone, and secure in the clone labs, you could decree my death at the hands of your legions." Thimram waited, uneasy, for the Master to reply.
"Very good, Savuud. I appreciate honesty. And I don't believe you would betray me." Thimram felt the tension drain from him. "However," Palpatine continued, frowning, "I have felt something in the Force lately. A sense of danger. Something is going to happen." Palpatine looked away. "Of all the things I have lost, the power of vision is what I miss most. Before, I could simply have foreseen the threat. No longer..."
"Master," said Thimram, confident once more, "I haven't heard of any danger, but your feelings must not be ignored. It could be the beginning of your vision returning. If we remain alert, we can catch any threats before they begin." Thimram could see that the Master was still troubled. Palpatine's old arrogant posture had been replaced by a visible restlessness. The traumatic events involving Luke Skywalker and Lord Vader had left their scars. Palpatine's supreme confidence had been undermined.
Thimram, perhaps experiencing a premonition of his own, sensed that an even more terrible trial lay in the near future.
\*
"My Empire was built on the power of the dark side. Without that power, it could not hold together. My own dark will drove the Imperial war machine, and its wheels were lubricated by fear and anger - anger at the rebellion, and fear of my punishment. But fear, anger, and military might were not enough to hold it all together. Without the dark side, that same fear and anger were enough to tear the Empire apart."
-From The Book of Anger
"Dinner is served, Master," said Sate Pestage. He entered Palpatine's chambers carrying two steaming trays. Placing both of them on a shining table, Pestage gathered his jeweled hems together and settled down, breathing in the aroma of savory flangth. He looked over at the room's other occupant with good-natured impatience.
Palpatine was at a huge desk, engrossed with an alien book on the Tyia, an alternate way of viewing the Force. Pestage knew his Master was ranging far and wide in his studies to find new insights into the power of the Force. More alien adepts than ever before had been gathered on Byss, as Palpatine invited them in order to simultaneously teach them and learn their secrets. The former Emperor was oblivious to Pestage's presence.
The old man cleared his throat. "It is unkind to keep your elder waiting, Espaa," suggested Pestage.
Palpatine looked up from his book, frowning. "Perhaps you will recall that I have told you not to call me that."
Pestage shrugged, smiling inwardly. This was a familiar conversation. "Will you not indulge an old man in his doddering sentiment?" Espaa was the name of Pestage's son from long ago, stolen from him by the Sith after his wife's death. Over the years, Pestage had come to believe that Palpatine was that son. He had not spoken of his belief until after the Battle of Endor, when he had told Mara Jade. The Emperor had been residing in her mind, and Pestage had suspected that he could hear him. Regardless of whether that was so, Palpatine's behavior towards the Grand Vizier had changed after that. There was a new level of trust between them. Pestage had saved his master's life, and Palpatine had repaid that debt of gratitude by opening himself to the old man, sharing his fears and ambitions. Endor had humbled him enough to let one person into his life.
Pestage wasn't sure Palpatine considered him to be his father; he wasn't exactly the sort of person who had a father. But the simple fact that Palpatine now treated him as an equal made all that Pestage had gone through to save him absolutely worth it. Palpatine loudly shut his book and came over to sit opposite Sate Pestage. "Old man indeed! I have sometimes thought that you have more of a chance of living forever than I do."
Pestage picked up his utensils and began to eat contentedly. He was old, a bony, wizened figure whose scarecrow-like body was lost in his sparkling cassock. In contrast, Palpatine for once looked the part of Pestage's potential son. His strong-boned face was crowned by a blonde widow's peak and short-cropped hair. His eyes never changed. They were as hard and as penetrating as ever. Pestage was pleased that whenever they fell on him, they softened a fraction. To bring out a tiny part of the deeply buried humanity of his Master was no mean feat. "Let us discuss what is left of the Empire, Old Friend," said Palpatine after a while. "Tell me of the latest reports."
"The fragmentation continues unabated, Master. The various Grand Moffs and Generals continue to carve out their little pieces, fight each other over them, then lose what they had won. And much of it is still being done in your name. The most important new trend is the growing power of the Warlords. The days of vying for power politically are over for good, I think. Today, only military strength counts. We have followed the progress of one Warlord, Zsinj, in particular. With his Super Star Destroyer, he is causing heavy damage to various New Republic worlds. The man is a criminal, but he is effective. He is likely to be successful in carving out his own mini-Empire."
"Until I take it from him," Palpatine smiled grimly. "And what of the so called New Republic's gains?"
"Our intelligence estimates that they will have control of Coruscant within two years. Little stands in their way. Systems like Correllia and Kuat have become fortresses, turning completely inward. The Warlords are powerful, but self-interested. In fact, some of them have fought with loyal Imperial forces that defend the Core Worlds. The way is open to Coruscant." Pestage looked crestfallen. "They will take the Palace, Master."
Palpatine shrugged slightly. "But they will not destroy it. Anything that they have taken can be retaken when I am ready. As I have told you before, this chaos is to be expected. While I ruled, I gave power to ruthless and ambitious people. But they feared me, and rightly so! They didn't try to take more than they were given. Now, it is only their natural tendencies taking over. Let them have their petty squabbles, my friend. It will keep them all busy while I prepare my forces. When I go forth with the World Devastators and the Eclipse, nothing that the Warlords or the rebels have done will matter. Specific territories do not matter. I am going to crush the spirit of the galaxy."
Palpatine's gaze turned inwards, perhaps visualizing the conflict to come. Pestage ate quietly for a few minutes, then, raising a skeletal finger, he interrupted his Master's introspection. "There are other players in the game to be accounted for, Master. There is Grand Admiral Thrawn."
"Yes." Palpatine rested his chin on his hand. "Thrawn is still in Wild Space, but he will return in three years. I would prefer that he not be wasted in pointless fighting with the rebels, but knowing Thrawn, that is precisely what he will want. When I am ready, he would make an excellent Commander for my forces. We will see. If he returns, and if he survives, we will see. I will not reveal myself until the proper time has come."
"It is a pity, Master, that the other Grand Admirals are lost."
"Indeed. There was one in particular, Grand Admiral Saren, who showed much promise. Did you know, that once she argued with me over one of my commands for three days? She dared to defy me." Palpatine glared at the memory.
Pestage raised a white eyebrow. "She was a Zingali, the race with the killing rage, that we exterminated. She never knew that the killing rage was an innate means of tapping into the dark side. With special training, she could have taken her place in the Dark Empire to come." Pestage searched his memory. "She was killed at Endor, was she not?"
"Yes. She died aboard the Executor..." Palpatine fell silent. Whenever he recalled the Battle of Endor, he began to dwell on thoughts of his Enemy. His chief hatred. "And then there is Skywalker. I have followed his progress. His powers have not greatly increased, and his sister remains untrained. No new Jedi have been trained. Skywalker will find it very hard to grow in power. The lore of the Jedi was swept clean from the galaxy during the purge. He cannot hope to become a master."
"That is, unless you train him." Pestage took every chance he got to promote this idea. Luke Skywalker worried Sate Pestage. Pestage felt certain, deep inside, that he somehow did have the power to be a threat in the future. He was determined not to see his beloved Master lost again, so he tried to convince Palpatine to plan for Skywalker's alliance rather than his destruction.
Palpatine made a noncommittal noise. "And create another Vader, perhaps?" Pestage had no answer to that. They ate in silence. Finally, the table's comlink chirped. Palpatine touched a key, leaning towards it.
The voice of Savuud Thimram grated from the small speaker. "Master, the Eclipse has arrived, and is now in orbit around Byss."
Palpatine and Pestage looked at each other. Both knew what that meant. Pestage felt a pang of anxiety. "Thank you Savuud. Have my shuttle prepared. I shall be there shortly." They both stood. "We will continue our discussion...another time. Until then, Old Friend."
"Until then, Master", said Pestage, bowing deeply. It was a habit he could not break. Palpatine strode quickly out of the room, leaving Pestage to stare at the empty doorway for a long moment. May the Force be with you, Espaa. And be careful. The risks you take are so that you can regain the power, and with it, the greatness you deserve. You will succeed.
You will because you must.
\*
"The new technology of destruction is an extremely useful tool for furthering the aims of the dark side. Star Destroyers and Death Stars were viewed by some as tools of political conquest. They missed the point entirely. My vision for the galaxy has always been to fill its uncounted worlds with the emotions that serve the dark side. If a civilization is burned down by the guns of a Star Destroyer, it is gone forever, but if it can be made to fear that destruction, the true power in the galaxy grows ever stronger."
-From The Book of Anger
Alone in his private shuttle, Palpatine rose past the moons of Byss and faced the star-crowded heavens of the Deep Core. He could feel the stellar energies like a warm breeze, laced with the distant chill of the great black hole at the center of the galaxy. For a long time, he simply looked at the galaxy, as he used to when he was Emperor. To rule over every one of those stars...it was a seductive thought. Then he felt an approaching presence, a thing of vast energies contained, threatening. Ahead, the profusion of stars was blotted out by a black shape that slowly expanded.
The ship was majestic. It ate the light and shed darkness. The Eclipse was twice the length of the lost Executor. From its foreboding bridge to the gigantic triangular plain of its upper hull, it was made of a superdense ebony alloy. Instead of coming to a point, the hull flared downwards into a huge frontal spine that held a gaping rectangular mouth of fire. That baleful glow was the firing portal of the weapon that dictated the staggering length of the Eclipse, a superlaser capable of destroying a planet regardless of planetary shields.
The ship was unfinished. It had been under construction for years, ever since the Battle of Hoth had suggested the utility of combining a Star Destroyer with the Death Star's prime weapon. Even after Endor, when many Imperials wanted to cease its unbelievably costly creation, construction implacably continued. Palpatine's dark side adepts saw to that. The axial superlaser was complete, as was the hyperdrive. Still to come were the fighters, gravity well projectors, tractor beams, turbolasers, and ion cannons. But Palpatine did not mean to take the ship into combat. It was Palpatine's means of reclaiming his former might. With it, he meant to tap into the power of the dark side.
Years ago, when the first Death Star had destroyed the rebellious planet Alderaan, Palpatine had discovered to his stunned surprise that the event tremendously strengthened the dark side of the Force while weakening the light side. The terrified death of an entire living world had sent more power than he could possibly contain coursing through him. His plans to take advantage of that had been rudely disrupted by the interference of Obi-Wan Kenobi and his young student, Luke Skywalker.
But the idea was never lost, and now Palpatine had the ability to make it a reality. This time, he would not be fully at one with the dark side, lest the power should overwhelm or even kill him. Instead, he would enter a meditative state, receiving a lesser share of the power. The next time, he would be able to take more. In this manner, planet by planet, he meant to once again become Master of the dark side.
And though the destruction of several worlds might be felt by those sensitive to the light side, distance and the energies of the Deep Core should mask the loss completely. Skywalker would not suspect a thing. It was, of course, his fault that Palpatine faced this dangerous necessity. Skywalker had driven him to seek survival within the mind of Mara Jade. Her tiny node of Force sensitivity had been unable to contain his total energy. He had left most of it behind in order to retain his basic self. And even though his clone was capable of harboring great power, when he entered it he was as weak as he had been decades ago. Unless he found a radical solution, he faced a return climb that was also decades long.
Palpatine hoped this would be it. His shuttle joined a small convoy of ships carrying crew and supplies for the voyage. They were all soon lost against the awesome starship that eclipsed the stars. The shuttle sailed into a docking bay large enough to hold a Victory class Star Destroyer. Immediately he felt the dark aura of the ship surround him. The ship was crewed by many dark side adepts, and everywhere in its enormous volume, the seductive whisper of the dark side could be heard. It was a space going world devoid of light, clotted with rage.
Palpatine immediately felt right at home.
\*
Urn Zelotes relaxed in his tower in Velarium, the city of adepts, watching one of his favorite segments from Palpatine's Book of Anger. Zelotes was a tall, reedy alien, with four-fingered clawed hands, lizard like skin, and a wedge-shaped head with widely spaced eyes. Zelotes had the disconcerting habit of glaring with one milky eye while leaving the other slitted in suspicion. Rattling his bracelets slightly, Zelotes lifted one claw to place against his pointed chin and smiled grimly. His moment of moments was drawing near, the fruition of all his plans.
Before Zelotes shimmered a life-sized hologram of Palpatine, speaking in that arrogant, pedantic way of his. The Book of Anger was an unfinished hologram recording of Palpatine's teachings that he shared with all of the adepts. Palpatine had admitted that he was unable to create his own Holocron, and so this means of recording was his only similar option. Unlike a Holocron, the Book of Anger was not interactive. It could not be questioned; it would not reply. It simply droned on and on. Zelotes wished he could hold a conversation with the image. He wanted to berate it, accuse it, punish it, and tell it how he planned to kill it forever. The best he could do was to freeze the image periodically and vent his recriminations at it. "The universe is full of power,"
Palpatine was saying. "To release it, you must harness the emotions of hate, anger, fear, and aggression. Release your own anger and the anger of infinity is released. By itself, the dark side is a thing of chaos and irrationality. It has no control, no conscience, no restraint. But domination is its goal. There is a bargain to be made with it. It gives you power and exacts its price. In order to let the power flow through you, you must let the destructive emotions flow through you. But that is not all. It is a great danger to those who cannot control their emotions. Only with a strong will can you control your rage and make the power your servant. When anger is controlled intelligently, there is nothing you cannot do."
Zelotes paused the recording. "Nothing you can't do! But you never share the most powerful secrets with us, do you? Keeping us below you, always below. Now you are the one brought low. Low enough to step on." He resumed the recording.
"Throughout history, followers of the dark side have never been organized as the Jedi were. I have changed that. I am creating a compendium of knowledge and gathering students. The Jedi are destroyed, and I will replace them with a stable order of Dark Jedi. I will replace the Moffs and Grand Moffs, the Captains, Generals, and Admirals, the Governors and Presidents, all with followers of the dark side. The Empire is just a first step towards the birth of a Dark Empire. All who follow me will take up positions of power in the Final Order. The light side of the Force will be utterly forgotten -" Zelotes angrily froze the image.
He leaned very close to Palpatine's glittering face and spat his hate and frustration at it. "Promises, promises, Master. Where is your Dark Empire now? You called us to you, promised to teach us and give us positions of power. And what did you do? You let your Empire die! You indulged your obsession with the last Jedi until it destroyed you. You're in no position ever to give me what you told me would be mine or even to get back what you once had, but still you make promises! You called us to you, not to teach us, but to get our knowledge to add to your own. Now it's time to pay what you owe, and because you have failed and cannot give us worlds to rule, we will take as payment your life itself. In your own words, you have said it: betrayal and death. You have betrayed us, and earned death."
Palpatine resumed speaking. "- and the dark side will dominate forever. The Empire itself is an excellent tool for paving the way for this transformation. It produces the emotions that strengthen the dark side at every turn. There are threats to survival such as slavery and imprisonment. There is the loss of culture, government, rights, and identity. There is the ever-present whisper of atrocity and injustice. The populace of the galaxy is filled with fear...Where adepts have gathered in the past, there have been battles, betrayal, and death. They mistrust one another and are driven to fight each other for dominance. But in the Dark Empire, among the followers of the dark side, there must be a basic cooperation. Betrayal is capable of provoking an explosive outpouring of anger, but the Final Order cannot tolerate it -"
Zelotes froze the image one last time. "Master of hypocrisy! You speak of a stable, trusting order of Dark Jedi, but you never trusted anyone, and so long as you stood high above all the others, anyone who betrayed another was encouraged. But if they betrayed you... Now you'll feel betrayal for the last time. You'll feel the contempt, the humiliation, and then you'll die."
Zelotes made the former Emperor vanish, then went to the window. In the distance, several kilometers away, but still highly visible, the Imperial Citadel penetrated the sky. The betrayer had left that great spire and gone to his new warship. Even now, Zelotes' allies were on the ship with Palpatine, waiting for the moment of justice. Zelotes himself faced the more dangerous mission. The other adepts would personally slay Palpatine without warning, but Zelotes would have to prevent the betrayer from returning to life. He must invade the most closely guarded place on the planet, Palpatine's cloning laboratory.
\*
"Betrayal is capable of provoking an explosive outpouring of anger, but the Final Order cannot tolerate it, or its consequences. When the Dark Empire is complete, the followers of the dark side will share my power of being able to observe each other. Betrayal will no longer be practical. Only with this basic cooperation can the order of Dark Jedi attempt the next task, the conquering of the entire galaxy, and then, in the distant future, other galaxies..."
-From The Book of Anger
Rollo Mon shuffled through the halls of the Imperial Citadel. He had just finished his scheduled checking on Palpatine's clones with Sate Pestage, and as usual, his thoughts were full of biotechnology. He didn't even notice, as he entered his quarters, that the lights were dimmer than usual. Thus he also failed to see the hulking shape standing in the room's far corner. He began sifting through a stack of files on his desk, and was very startled when he heard someone clear his throat loudly. He spun, dropping papers everywhere, to see one of the Emperor's adepts lounging in his favorite chair. "AAH! Don't do that!" he exclaimed. You shouldn't scare people like that. How did you get in here? Wait, don't I know you? Adept Zemekkis, right?"
"Zelotes, Constable. I'm sorry I frightened you. But you see, I'm in need of your assistance." Zelotes stood up. "I need to get into the innermost cloning laboratory, and I need your help with the access codes." The adept's hands clenched oddly as his face took on a look of concentration. It still felt strange to him to use the Force without talismans.
Rollo Mon backed away. "I'm sorry, Adept Zelotes, I can't share that information. The Emperor forbids it. No one else is to enter those labs, especially while he is away. I...I just can't...help you." He stopped his retreat abruptly.
"Yes, Constable, I commend your loyalty, but the Emperor needs me to get into the lab. Before he left, he gave me special orders. He wants an experimental solution tested on his clones, and he said you would help me. He told me to come to you. You are the only one who can help me carry out his wishes."
Rollo Mon said slowly, "I'm the only one who can help you. Do you wish to go there now?"
"No Constable. First we need to wait for a little more protection. The solution is highly valuable and very rare." Zelotes picked up a clear cylinder of yellow liquid. "I have strict orders to prevent it from being stolen by his enemies. He thinks certain of his adepts may be plotting against him, but he doesn't know which ones. You and I might not be able to hold off a traitorous attack on our own. So I brought my Sentinel." Zelotes gestured, and the giant stepped out of the corner.
It was a silent titan, carrying a tall pole arm. Its body was hidden under many layers of clothing, and its shadowed helm hid all of its face save two glinting reddish eyes. The Sentinels were cloned creatures, linked to their adepts and dependent on them for their purpose. They could share their perceptions with their adepts, and they were fearsome fighters.
Palpatine had access to several hundred, but the lesser adepts were allotted only one each. Zelotes had brought his own, and his ten allies had contributed theirs. Eleven Sentinels would have to be enough. "We await the arrival of ten more Sentinels, Constable. His Majesty informed me that several uniforms were stolen from the Sovereign Protectors. We may run into enemies who look like our allies. Have patience."
Rollo Mon was quite overwhelmed. His defenseless mind had fallen swiftly to Zelotes, and he was further caught up in the intrigue. "Do you really think there'll be fighting? That's incredible...Well, you can count on me. But, ahh, there is a slight complication. Usually the Emperor enters the innermost labs with me. Now that he is away, he has entrusted his portion of the access code to the Grand Vizier. We were just there a while ago. I'm not sure where he went after that, but we can probably find him. How much time do you have?" Rollo Mon looked at Urn Zelotes with concern.
The adept had begun to curse, very loudly.
\*
Rollo Mon watched, curious, as Adept Zelotes paced nervously back and forth. Standing rigidly beyond the agitated alien were eleven towering Sentinels. They made the Constable uneasy, they always had. Even with his meter high head ornament, the little scientist only came up to a Sentinel's chest. And they were so very still. It was eerie.
There was a gentle knock at the door, and Zelotes' agitation redoubled. "Answer it. If it's Sate Pestage, let him in, but don't tell him I'm here."
Rollo Mon nodded, pleased to see some action after so much waiting. He hurried into the hall and opened the door to see the elderly Grand Vizier looking tensely at him. There was no need for tension. Once the Grand Vizier saw how things were so well in hand with Adept Zelotes there, he would be so much more at ease.
"Constable, I've come as you asked. Now tell me what you know about a threat to the Emperor. What have you discovered?"
Rollo Mon waved Sate Pestage into the hall. "Not out here," he hissed, and hurried into the main room. Pestage followed.
Zelotes summoned his will as the Grand Vizier came into view. This new and unexpected development had greatly increased the difficulty of his task. Now he would have to control two minds as well as coordinate the actions of eleven Sentinels. The labs were about ten minutes away. It promised to be a quite an ordeal.
Pestage saw the gathered Sentinels first, and an expression of startled suspicion was born on his face. Zelotes clamped an instant coercive hold on both Rollo Mon's and Pestage's minds. The time for brain-washing was over. He saw Pestage's eyes fill with outrage at his captivity, but the Vizier could not move.
"Welcome, Grand Vizier Pestage," said Zelotes. "You are just in time to help me destroy your Master once and for all." The adept forced Rollo Mon and Sate Pestage to stand to either side of him. He opened the door and sent his own Sentinel ahead as a scout. A single Sentinel would not immediately alarm the Sovereign Protectors; it could be going about the business of any of the adepts. His Sentinel would also give him visuals of what was around the next corner. Zelotes had planned his route in advance, but chance encounters with soldiers could still ruin him. He linked himself to the monster, and in moments, he could see out of its eyes. As usual, the sense of height was disorienting.
With his two captives at his side and surrounded by the other Sentinels, Zelotes went out after his mute slave. Soon the giant reached the first security cameras, and as planned, a small device it carried emitted a short burst of energy. The camera would pick up only static for a minute, enough time for Zelotes to hurry past. He didn't want any clear images of him to be made, in case he had to retreat. For two minutes, the route proved to be an excellent choice. Then they encountered a Stormtrooper patrol. The Sentinels took the troopers by surprise, tearing into them and rending them limb from limb. Zelotes didn't need to direct their every move in combat. They were programmed for such ruthless violence.
Zelotes had to place a new Sentinel at point, as his was now blood-soaked. He was unused to the specific mind of that giant and had trouble linking his vision to it. As a result, the Sentinel marched straight through an intersection without revealing to Zelotes the Sovereign Protector standing in the cross-corridor. The elite warrior, however, detected Zelotes. He was trained in the use of the dark side of the Force, and the coercion being placed on the captives was like a beacon drawing his attention. The Protector was there to investigate the failure of the Stormtrooper squad to report, and he was fully alert. Zelotes and his prisoners came into view, and the Protector was already in motion, barking a clipped command into his comlink for reinforcements. In one hand, he had a prototype blaster, in the other, an exotic Force Pike.
The adept went pale with shocked surprise, and lost his control over Rollo Mon and Sate Pestage. But the two men swayed and held their heads, unable to recover. The Protector's first shot ripped away the lead Sentinel's head with immense violence. As the others closed with him, the soldier spun and darted beneath the grasp of the nearest behemoth with impressive dexterity, twisting his Force Pike at full power into its vitals. Sparking and shuddering, the weapon penetrated the giant's light armor. But even as the discharges ravaged its brutish nervous system, the Sentinel forced itself forward. The Force Pike burned out its back as the Sentinel managed a powerful backhanded blow that broke the Protector's neck. Zelotes recovered his wits. Two Sentinels picked up the prisoners, and the invaders left the dying Sentinel behind in an awful embrace with the corpse of the Protector.
Pestage and Rollo Mon, now fully aware, were terrified and furious. The minutes ticked by as they came ever closer to Zelotes' goal. A sudden storm of Blaster fire announced the arrival of the Sovereign Protector reinforcements. Zelotes spun and blocked some of the bolts with his hands, desperate to keep his captives alive. Several of the Sentinels went down, gaping holes burned dead center into their backs. Zelotes sent the rest back towards the Protectors, keeping only the two holding Pestage and Rollo Mon. Then he ran on towards the clone labs. The meeting of the two forces was a fury of noise that washed over the fleeing adept.
The Protectors were the most elite of the Empire's soldiers, chosen from the Royal Guard for their stamina, strength, dexterity, and intelligence. The Force further enhanced their perceptions and sped their reactions. The Sentinels were much stronger, but they were dependent on the will of their adepts. As Zelotes fled, they were doomed to failure.
Wielded with the astonishing skill of the Protectors, a few vibroweapons and heavy blasters spelled the end of Zelotes' force. The fight came to an abrupt end when the Protectors' Commander stepped up with a Prax Energy Rifle and fired microgrenades into the helmets of the last three standing Sentinels. There was a stunning report, and fragments of the giants' heavy robes soared flaming through the air as their headless forms slumped heavily to the floor. Zelotes felt the loss of his Sentinels through the Force. Despairing, he experienced a moment of pure terror as the corridor became a dead end and he realized what the Sovereign Protectors would do to him. Then he understood that he had reached the clone labs at last. Before him was a heavy blast door with a complex control panel to one side. Zelotes throttled his own panic and reasserted his control over Rollo Mon and Sate Pestage.
"Open it," he growled. They stumbled forward, rushing to do his bidding. The codes were entered, and moments later, Zelotes experienced the immense relief of the blast door hissing shut behind him. "Disable all the lab security systems," he commanded. A plan to deceive the adept flickered across Pestage's thoughts. Zelotes caught it, and punished him with an angry constriction of his wrinkled throat. Gasping, Pestage went to his stick like knees. "Don't defy me, or you die. It's that simple." Zelotes pointed to the console. "One of you, turn it all off, and erase any recordings made so far. I'll know if you do it wrong."
Rollo Mon scurried to the controls and deactivated the system, but Pestage seemed unable to get up. He was weak, and getting weaker. Zelotes didn't care. He brought out the cylinder of yellow liquid, and passed it to Rollo Mon. "Feed this into the Spaarti Cylinders." Rollo Mon thought of dashing the cylinder to the floor, but the thought was detected. His hands wouldn't obey him; instead they hooked the container up to the nutrient feed lines. He watched in impotent horror as the poison flowed out to find every clone. All his work was being destroyed. He wanted to die rather than watch, but watch he did. Some of the clones twitched violently, then they were still. The youngest forms did not react at all.
One by one,
the tanks began to whine with warning alarms as their contents died. At Zelotes' command, Rollo Mon shut those off, too. When the last alarm was silenced, the only sounds were the gasps of Sate Pestage, the whimpering of Rollo Mon, and the dull thud of the Sovereign Protectors' first attempt to get through the blast door. Zelotes was not worried. It would hold for a while, yet. He trembled as a feeling of wild victory coursed through him. He had survived, and he had won! The clones of the betrayer were destroyed, and it was done in time. At any moment now, the betrayer himself would be destroyed, and Zelotes would get the message of ultimate success on the room's Holonet terminal. He forced Rollo Mon to his knees next to Sate Pestage and waited.
\*
"When rage leads directly to results, a sense of the omnipotence of expressed rage grows. Vader felt this sense of power, but he and I did not use it in the same way. I have truly learned to control my anger, while Vader could only partially control his. Like a berserker, he always struck out with his rage, but I am like a furnace. My rage burns deep within, contained and concentrated. Mine was ever the greater strength, for this reason. Many of my enemies were fooled by my apparent lack of defenses. But rage, focused within and controlled, is a devastating weapon that can be used at any time, and without warning."
-From The Book of Anger
Standing on the bridge of the Eclipse, Admiral Dal reflected that his career had certainly had its ups and downs while serving Emperor Palpatine. Dal had first come to the Emperor's attention in the early days of the Empire, for his part in the massacre that ended the threat of the Zingali. He had climbed in the ranks swiftly, becoming an Admiral by the Battle of Endor. He remembered that day vividly. His Star Destroyer had been in a great fleet, trapping the rebels between them and the Death Star.
Evidently, a madman's order was given within the rebel fleet, for the rebel frigates and Mon Cal cruisers had flown directly into their midst and opened fire at point blank range. It broke all the rules of Capital Ship combat, and it was horrible to behold. Most of all, Dal remembered the explosions of the Star Destroyers. The city-like ships almost brushed up against the rebel cruisers and the tiny space between them was like a lace work of turbolaser bolts. Twin rows of fireballs blossomed along each hull as deflector shields crumbled and the pent-up hatred of years of conflict was given a savage outlet. A dying Mon Cal cruiser had aimed itself directly at Admiral Dal's bridge, but another Star Destroyer, spinning out of control, hit it first. Their collision had nearly taken Dal's ship with it.
Dark and disabled, they had drifted away from the battle. A while later, the blackness of the bridge had been lit up by the distant annihilation of the second Death Star. Dal and his surviving crew had joined with another ship and escaped the rebel mopping up action. For one year, he had defended the shrinking Imperial territory. Then, to his mystification, he had been assigned to the Eclipse project. He couldn't believe it was still being funded. Nor did matters become clear when he was in the midst of the project. The source of the funding was hidden in a bureaucratic tangle he could never hope to unravel. The available evidence pointed to a powerful Imperial leader somewhere, but those who inquired too closely into the matter tended to vanish.
A few weeks ago, just after the completion of the ship's hyperdrive and prime weapon, Dal had received orders to take the unfinished Eclipse into the Deep Core. He had obeyed, hungry to penetrate the mystery. Perhaps the last thing Dal expected was to find the Emperor reborn awaiting him. Dal knew absolutely that it was the Emperor, but how could someone return from death as a younger man? Dal couldn't conceive of it. Like a proper Imperial, he had never believed in the Force. His grip on reality had begun to slip. Then he was told that he would be taking the ship to destroy several uninhabited Deep Core worlds for the Emperor.
Enveloped by a sense of the surreal, Admiral Dal had agreed. Perhaps he had died at Endor, and he and his Emperor were carving out a new Empire in the afterlife. It didn't matter, so long as he could serve. Without service, Dal instinctively knew he would find a kind of living death. The Eclipse emerged from hyperspace, pulling Dal into the present. The bridge crew went smoothly into action, placing the vast ship on a course for a nearby world, visible as a tiny blue sphere on the main screen. Dal admired his crew. They were some of the best remaining officers in the Empire. They were efficient and skilled, and completely loyal to the Emperor. Dal was really only comfortable on the bridge itself, surrounded by his human officers.
Elsewhere on the Eclipse, he was unnerved by the presence of the alien dark side adepts. They filled him with a deep revulsion and sent a chill through him whenever he saw them. The small planet ahead continued to grow in the viewscreen. Dal turned to look behind him at the special platform above the bridge. There sat the Emperor, on one of his technological thrones. He was in something called a meditation trance, supposedly in contact with the Force. The Emperor had told Dal privately that destroying the planet ahead would increase his power.
Dal was struggling to include the Force in his view of reality, but after seeing the Emperor reborn, he believed many things were possible. He looked forward to reclaiming the Empire and erasing the New Republic from existence. The Eclipse moved smoothly into firing range. "All crew stand ready," called out the Admiral. He glanced once more at the Emperor's still form. "Commence primary ignition." The Eclipse began to vibrate subtly. It was the barest indication of the incomprehensible forces about to be unleashed.
The power of his ship intoxicated the Admiral. Very soon, the planet ahead would simply cease to exist. Dal hadn't served on either Death Star, but this more than made up for it. His prime weapon was stronger than those that had come before. Now he would see it in action at last. And just maybe, before too long, he would see it used on the worlds of the New Republic.
Dal was just about to give the order to fire, when he felt a startling and frightening constriction at his throat. His breath was choked off, and panicked, he grabbed at his neck to force away the hands that held it so painfully. There was nothing there. Terror surged up inside him, but there was nothing he could do. The Force was killing him, he realized in his final moments. He dimly saw that the officers around him were stricken as well. Irrationally, he thought he could see Lord Vader standing nearby. That makes sense, he thought as his mind cut loose from his pain-wracked body. Vader often punished people like this. But he had heard Vader was dead. On the other hand, the Emperor was still alive, was he not? Perhaps no one really died at all. Perhaps this wasn't the end, but only a beginning...
Palpatine let the Force flow through him. He could sense the balance of the dark against the light. Soon, he would disrupt that balance in a violent assault against nature itself. The new strength of the dark side would be shared with him, and once again he would become its greatest servant. But his servitude was not slavery; it was a position of ultimate mortal power. He was far above all other living beings. This was given to him to know by the dark side itself. This he believed absolutely.
The world ahead was full of life. Its oceans and continents were teeming with non sentient forms. Its loss would be strongly felt by the light side. Not only would the existing life be lost, but also all the potential life. Just as all the potential death had been lost with the destruction of the Death Star, weakening the dark side. Despite being in a trance, Palpatine was partly aware of his surroundings. He heard the command to commence primary ignition as if it was spoken at a great distance. This was it. He was ready to reclaim his title as Master of the dark side, a title that meant more than Emperor to him. But wait - Something was wrong. The command to fire had not been given. Palpatine reached out with the Force and saw two things at the same moment. The entire bridge crew was dead, and he was completely surrounded by black-robed figures, their human and alien arms raised as if to reach out to him. He had a moment of utter clarity to realize that this, at last, was the source of his recent fears. It was his death. Then, devastating waves of Force Lightning slammed into him from the ten adepts that ringed him.
He was the center of a bright wheel of agony, its spokes twisting through fiery arcs that burned into him. The air shrieked, or perhaps it was Palpatine. He was off the throne, then falling from the platform, but there was no relief as the ten figures moved with him, their circle shrinking as they closed in. The writhing bolts illuminated a bearded human face here, a tentacled snout there. Hands, claws, and other appendages pushed hateful sizzling death at their betrayer. Palpatine had no chance against so many. Barely able to think, he rolled his tortured body towards one side of the circle, seizing on a final, desperate plan. His hand thrust into his robes, and when it emerged, a hot orange lightsaber blade extended suddenly from it, occupying the space filled an instant ago by one of his attackers' hearts.
As the adept died, the circle was broken, and Palpatine dragged himself to his feet. His respite lasted no longer than that. Recovering from their surprise, the other nine adepts unleashed another barrage of lightning at Palpatine's back. The lightsaber flew from his grip as he was hurled violently into the crew pit. The adepts advanced to deal the killing blows. But Palpatine was right where he wanted to be. He brushed aside the dead hand of the Imperial gunner next to him and grasped the firing lever of the prime weapon. With pain-filled fingers, he drew it towards him.
The Eclipse became a titanic energy weapon. An unbearably bright bar of light appeared between the ship and the planet, bisecting the blackness of space. For an instant, the ship and the planet were linked, then the planet's surface boiled away like a ball of wax hurled into a fire. The small world's rocky core lasted a moment longer, then it, too, wavered within the bar of light and was gone. On the bridge of the Eclipse, the dark side adepts ignored the spectacle and relentlessly pressed their attack. Palpatine had kept his design a secret from his adepts because of his premonitions, so they knew nothing of what he hoped to gain by his action. One last act of defiance, perhaps? A world they would never rule over? Their Lightning arced towards Palpatine one final time, carrying their justice with it. The bolts never struck him.
A shimmering sphere had appeared around Palpatine, a coruscating globe of light that completely encased his prone form. The Force Lightning smashed into the sphere, but did not penetrate it. The wild play of fierce energies turned the sphere into a ball of flame. A moment later, all the power of the attack was hurled back at the adepts, vastly increased in magnitude. As one, they turned to flee, but shock waves of heat overtook all of them. Nine vaguely man-shaped masses of char and ashes spattered to the deck. There had not been any chance to scream. Silence settled over the bridge. The sphere continued to shimmer for a few minutes, then it winked out. Revealed within was the battered form of Palpatine. He was sprawled on the floor, nearly unconscious. His slitted eyes glowed with a baleful light, and black flames seemed to play along his limbs. The Force was with him once more.
\*
The signal that Urn Zelotes waited for did not come. There was no communication from the Eclipse at all. The Holonet station in the clone lab was dark and quiet. Second by second, fear began to grow inside Zelotes, like a living thing that was born there and was eating his will in order to increase in size. There was no signal. What had happened? Were his allies dead? All dead? It was impossible. Their attack must have been delayed, or called off. But no - they would have let him know in that case, too. Dead. All dead. Was Palpatine dead too?
Zelotes lost himself for a minute, indecision crushing down on him. The door to the clone lab shuddered and boomed. Heavy explosives had been brought in. That did it. There was no time left. Zelotes faced his prisoners.
"Show me another exit from this room!" he ordered them. Pestage still didn't seem able to rise, so Rollo Mon stood and walked, trembling, to a blank wall behind a row of Spaarti Cylinders. He put a hand through the wall, revealing that it was only a hologram.
"Thank you Constable. I have to leave you now because I'm not sure if my allies have succeeded in their mission. I have to get to a place of safety and anonymity if I am ever to have another chance. No one must know who I am, and unfortunately, that means you both have to die. Come here, Constable. I'll make this as painless as possible seeing as how you've been such a help to me."
Rollo Mon helplessly walked back towards the gaunt, lizard like adept, tears streaming down his face. But Zelotes had made the mistake of turning his back on Sate Pestage. The Grand Vizier had not been helpless. He had been fighting for some control over his own body. In his fear and distraction, Zelotes had missed it. Pestage grabbed up the long cylinder that had held the poison and swung it as hard as he could against Zelotes' head. The adept's wedge-shaped skull was battered to one side, and in that moment, Rollo Mon was free.
"Go!" rasped Pestage. The Constable spun and ran behind another row of tanks. Urn Zelotes turned on Sate Pestage and grabbed him by his jeweled cassock with strong, claw like fingers. He shoved the old man hard and Pestage collapsed in a heap.
"Stay there," Zelotes grated and ran to look behind the tanks for Rollo Mon. But the Constable was gone. There was a third exit somewhere back there. Gone, too, was any hope of keeping his identity a secret, if Palpatine was indeed alive to learn it. Sate Pestage had effectively killed him. Not bothering to coerce the Grand Vizier, Zelotes stood over him.
"This has all been for nothing, if Palpatine still lives. His clones are dead, but that was just a necessary precaution. All for nothing." Pestage smiled at Zelotes. "Don't feel too bad. Others have tried. Others have failed. The glory is his and no one can take it from him. He will always be the Master."
Zelotes scowled. Rage twisted his features. He knew he had to flee. Palpatine was still off planet. If Zelotes could get to Velarium, he might survive. He knew he wasn't rational anymore. It didn't matter. He stepped away from Sate Pestage. If he could not destroy Palpatine, then he would destroy a part of Palpatine. One of the last two Sentinels came over to the Grand Vizier, picked him up, and squeezed.
Sate Pestage only managed to gasp out a few words. "And he will always be my son -" There was a sound of brittle bones breaking and the once powerful Grand Vizier of the Galactic Empire died. The Sentinel dropped the body to the floor, then waited for its next orders. Zelotes stared crazily at the corpse, a still heap glittering with gemstones. The face was peaceful.
Son? Had he said son? This was the Emperor's father?!
The lab reeled around Zelotes. He left the Sentinels standing there like grave markers and fled through the door Rollo Mon had shown him.
\*
"Anger, concentrated by will in the vital center of the body creates a portal through which vast energies are released - the energies of the dark side of the Force. Standing watch with the mind, in my meditation of anger, I have slain my enemies from great distances, through the dark side power that permeates the galaxy. I have created lightening and unleashed its destructive fire. Using this knowledge, I can unleash the dark side energies that are all around us, even to shatter the fabric of space itself. In this way, I have created storms."
-From The Book of Anger
- Espaa.
- Father?
- Thank the Force, you are still alive! I had to know before I departed.
- What's wrong? What's happened?
- I am truly sorry, Master, but I have died.
- What do you mean? Where are you?
- I have died, Espaa. I am going to become part of the All. I am within your mind. I was able to see your mind like a beacon and come to it. You have become powerful again. The Force has chosen you as it did before. When you awaken, my identity will be gone. I can feel the pull now. It is very beautiful, actually.
- Will I see you again?
- I...I don't know. You walk a different path. I'm not sure it will be possible. But you may yet learn. In life, I worshipped your glory, but now I see it has its limits. The Force, the All, is one, my son. You feel only a part of the whole.
- A Jedi myth. The Force is only a power to use, to pay the price for, to master.
- I'm not here to argue. I am here to say I have loved you. Now I go to be with Gemsaa, my wife, in whatever way that is possible -
The insistent beeping of the Holonet terminal finally reached Palpatine, and he awoke, groggy, grasping at the vanishing threads of a dream. He was on the deck of the crew pit of the Eclipse. All around him were dead bodies, his officers, Admiral Dal. On the upper walkway were several ash heaps. That sight brought the memory of his recent battle crashing back to him. The dream was gone. He could not remember it. No matter. He was alive! He had won. The Force was with him and he had regained much of his old strength. He began to heal himself as he limped over to the beeping station. Rollo Mon appeared there as a small hologram. He looked frantic.
"You're alive! Then they didn't succeed! Master, There was an attack here at the Citadel. Adept Zelotes fought his way into the clone labs and destroyed all your clones. I'm ashamed to say he controlled me, that he had my help. And Master -" Rollo Mon's voice caught. "How can I tell you this? He also controlled Grand Vizier Pestage. He was going to kill us both but Sate Pestage attacked him, so that I could escape. He gave his...he was killed. He gave his life for me. Zelotes escaped. I don't know where he went. Master? How will we find him?"
Palpatine took a step away from the terminal, as if he could deny its message with distance. He shut his eyes. His head tilted back. Rollo Mon left his awareness. His hands became fists. Sate Pestage. Dead. His friend, his Grand Vizier, his faithful servant, perhaps even his father, dead. Murdered. Palpatine raised his arms, his fists held high. His teeth clenched as his face filled with violence. Dead. Murdered by Urn Zelotes. The only one who had come into his isolation and stayed there. The man who had saved his life. Murdered. Anger was there, in that moment, ravening, demanding release. He held it in, stoked its fire. The anger flared into rage, but he held it in, concentrating it deep within, at his center. Rage.
Power. Power was everywhere, waiting to be used. It only needed an outlet. The rage was like a cold iron gate within him, closed against the power. He began to make the gate larger. Urn Zelotes had tried to kill him. Zelotes had destroyed all the clones and his allies had nearly murdered Palpatine as well. He had been so close to final death and its unending chaos and he had not even known it. Now fear at that thought poured in with the anger, swelling the flow. The gate holding back the power grew. It now felt like it was meters thick, and yet it shook massively.
Zelotes was one of his older adepts. Palpatine had taken him in and shared his knowledge. He had been repaid with betrayal, assassination, and murder. The murder of Sate Pestage. Betrayal and loss, fear and anger. Aggression must follow, but not yet. Palpatine found himself drawing more power than ever before. The pain of his loss had opened up untapped sources that he had not previously imagined. All men lost those close to them, and many cried out in rage. The universe did not care. But other men were not the Master of the dark side of the Force. The Master cried out in pain and rage...and the Universe answered!
The gate felt like part of a towering wall, a black fortress made of iron and stone. The power screamed and beat its fury against the gate, hammering relentlessly, a million voices yammering for release. Palpatine opened the gate. And a new thing was born into the galaxy. Outside the Eclipse, a vortex of time and space began to grow. It spun ponderously, and soon, it had become a huge funnel like storm. Palpatine was struck with awe. The storm was his, and it wanted to destroy. Could he control it?
The image of Urn Zelotes filled his mind. His links to his adepts had been restored. Zelotes was on Byss. He had gone to the city of adepts, perhaps to hide, perhaps to try to escape. There would be no escape. The storm responded to his hate. It whirled into hyperspace and burst forth over Byss. The great vortex roared down through the atmosphere, tearing defense satellites apart, rending ships and small fighters unlucky enough to be in its path. The automated defense systems of the Imperial Control Sector sent energy skyward like an inverse rain, but the storm only seemed to pick up velocity. In moments, it was above Velarium.
Urn Zelotes had made it back to his rooms. There is still time, he had told himself, over and over. Zelotes had mostly lost the capacity for planning. He had not reasoned that the Emperor's forces might already be at his quarters, waiting to take him prisoner. He did not know where he would go afterward, once he had retrieved his most important belongings. There hadn't really been a plan for failure. Maybe there could not have been one.
Zelotes only knew he had to keep moving, to hide wherever he could. He gathered his books and talismans together in a tough sack. They were his last links to his homeworld and his old way of using the Force. Palpatine had taught him new ways, and Zelotes had tried to use those teachings against him. But perhaps there was something in his sacred books that he could use to survive the failure of his coup.
Hurrying to escape the room, Zelotes overturned the table holding the Book of Anger. It clattered to the floor and activated. Palpatine's hologram projected horizontally and resumed its lecture. "- or its consequences. When the Dark Empire is complete, the followers of the dark side will share my power of being able to observe each other. Betrayal will no longer be practical."
Palpatine had more to say, but Zelotes was already gone.
The Force Storm descended upon Velarium. As it enveloped the city, buildings were torn up whole and went soaring up into the vortex, fragmenting as they rose. The Emperor's punishment claimed many lives that day. Dozens of adepts, innocent of any conspiracy, were swallowed up by the storm and lost. Urn Zelotes, too, met his doom in that merciless chaos. His building was pulled from its foundation and lifted towards the vortex of annihilation. It shattered under the stress on the way, and Zelotes suddenly found himself cast from the wreckage into mid-air. The greatest horror was that he did not fall.
Fully aware, he rose toward the enormous whirlpool in the sky. He thought he could hear the Emperor laughing and laughing. Then his body was taken apart by the storm, and the unending chaos of the dark side took the rest of him.
A little while later, the storm began to recede. Witnesses spoke of how it seemed to do so reluctantly, as if, given the choice, it would have ravaged the entire Imperial Control Sector. Left behind was a small city in rubble, with nothing moving in it. But only a few kilometers away, the Imperial Citadel was untouched.
\*
Within a few days, the violent incidents surrounding the attempted coup had been mostly covered up, with the help of Savuud Thimram. Sovereign Protectors told no tales, nor did Rollo Mon, so the knowledge of Palpatine's vulnerability, his lack of any mature clones, did not reach the ears of anyone else. The reason for the destruction of the city of adepts, however, was made common knowledge. It was 'revealed' that several adepts had plotted treason, that their scheme had been discovered before it could be implemented, and that all the traitors had been killed by Palpatine's power in the Force Storm. It was a lesson that would never be forgotten.
Palpatine had returned with the Eclipse, having decided to delay any further use of the ship while he attended to the damage on Byss. He made himself highly visible, and all who saw him could feel his new strength, and were more than a little afraid. The Emperor was back. Then, the time came for a decision regarding an important matter. Palpatine's eyes were hard and cold as he stared, brooding, at the Constable of Homunculi.
Rollo Mon produced a small cryocontainer and placed it on the table between them. "It is up to you, Master. We can clone him, make him any age you like. Then there is the question of what memories to give him..."
Palpatine's voice was distant. "We actually discussed this, he and I, a year ago. He thought I might want to bring him back this way, when he was gone. But he had this belief that he was my father..." Rollo Mon's eyes widened, but Palpatine only shook his head. "He said he didn't want anyone else to claim that honor, even if they were a clone of himself. Yes, Constable, clone him, but make him like he was ten years ago. Implant the things he needs to know to be my personal servant, to be the Emperor's Grand Vizier, but nothing more."
Rollo Mon stood and bowed. "It shall be as you desire, Master." He left Palpatine alone. Palpatine was the undisputed Master of the dark side of the Force, and he had no companions left. His piercing yellow eyes gazed from a face that was unlined, but empty. Those eyes avoided the chair that Sate Pestage used to sit in when they shared their meals. The way of the dark side was the way of isolation, of personal aggrandizement at the expense of all other relationships. Palpatine wondered if it was really that fact that had killed Sate Pestage. He could think of only one way to honor him. When next he met Luke Skywalker, as he knew he would, Palpatine would do as Pestage had wanted, and approach his enemy as a potential ally.
Palpatine's power of vision had returned, and he could still see Skywalker kneeling before him, saying, "My father's destiny is my own." But the boy was not ready to join him, not yet. In a few years, perhaps. He still had to learn the limits of what he could do with the light side. When Skywalker was ready, Palpatine would make his move, and the last of the Jedi would belong to him. It would be fitting vengeance on the rest of his enemies to turn their greatest hope against them. Palpatine laughed his old laugh, a sound of sadistic mirth. Great things were coming to him. The galaxy would become his Dark Empire.
And how could it not be so? For who could resist the power of the dark side...forever ?

