DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THIS, JUST IN CASE ANY LAWYERS ARE BORED AND FIND THIS ON A LUNCH BREAK.
Ordinarily, I would decline to post this until after I've finished, as too many Fanfics on this site end up staying unfinished for a variety of reasons. However, I decided to post these two chapters as an incentive to myself to get this damned thing finished, as I have been at a bit of a loss as to how to proceed with this.This seemed like a natural side story to tell, so you get Padme' Amidala enduring a year of hell at the Royal Guard Training Academy. Here she gets to grips with her new life while the Emperor gets to grips with controlling her efficiently. Hope you like what you see so far, and if you have any (reasonable) suggestions for how I can proceed with this, feel free to message me.
Two supporters to shout out to:
-MoonGoddessKiana, my first reviewer. This is the start of the Training story that I mentioned. Hope you're still reading, and that you like what you see so far.
-1saaa, my second reviewer who lately has become a very useful brainstorming partner, helping me sketch out ideas for where to take this story in the future. Here's the two chapters I mentioned. Let me know what you think!
STAR WARS: TRAINING THE SHADOW
PART ONE
The Royal Guard Training Academy…my year of pure hell. Unceasing, and unrelenting.
My name is…was…Padme' Amidala, and I am the personal bodyguard of the Emperor Palpatine, his Shadow. Extension of his will, the final line of defence…Unquestioning and unstoppable.
Yet he did not simply equip me with technology that constantly usurped my free will and made me his servant. He had to test his modifications-his control, and my new abilities-so I had to prove myself at the Imperial Royal Guard Training Academy. The most elite training facility in the galaxy, a perfect crucible to temper my skills. Thanks to the control serum and the device attached to my chest, I was in no position to stop myself from agreeing to this potentially suicidal decision.
This is the story of that period of training. A year where I was molded from a brainwashed former senator to a relentless killing machine, the ideal bodyguard for my…I refuse to call him Master, even though I am forced to every time I enter or leave his presence. I am not proud of my actions during this time period, but my actions were no longer my own. I am controlled by the Emperor through the Dark Side of the Force, and this is the story of how he fully developed his control over me.
My journey began when an Imperial shuttle met me from a secret hanger in the Imperial Palace. I presume that it is a potential escape route for the Emperor if Coruscant-no, Imperial Center-is ever attacked with significant enough force. The Emperor seems to find such a possibility laughable, but even so he has plans worked out just in case-he is such a twisted schemer that I would be more surprised if he did not have something worked out. I was accompanied by two of his Royal Guard, neatly prefiguring what I could potentially become.
There was no way that the guards could have known it was me, even if their loyalty to Palpatine had allowed them the curiosity of such thoughts. I was clad in black Jedi robes, with black leather gloves hiding my hands and tall black boots on my legs. My face was covered with a cloth and leather black mask that completely hid my face, my hair, and even my eyes. I have no idea what they made of me, and in all honesty they would not have spoken of it. The Emperor ordered them to escort me to the waiting shuttle, and that is what they did. Follow his orders to the letter-as was their job. Their duty.
I was met by a pilot, who looked visibly confused when he saw me. He then spotted the Royal Guards, and stood to attention-not wishing to be seen as unreliable by the Emperor's most devoted servants. This was the early dawn of the Empire, but word was already spreading about the Royal Guard unit. They stopped, and so did I.
I could hear Palpatine's voice in my head, and without any form of processing or agreement from me, they came out of my lips. I listened to my voice say words that I was in no control over.
"Confirmation Code Alpha-Delta-Epsilon. Assignment highest priority, authorised by his Excellency the Emperor himself. Confirm my name as Corde' Sabe' Naberrie'."
What shocked me was that the words came out as altered. It was no longer my voice…it was a mechanical version, completely disguised. Of course it was, I reminded myself-how could it be otherwise…if the Emperor was going to go to all this trouble to hide my continued existence, he would hardly allow me to use my real voice. The voice was soulless, cold and evil…and that chilled me to my core. What was I being molded into by him…?
The pilot shuddered when confronted with this, before recovering and simply saying "Follow me".
The Royal Guards accompanied me to the boarding ramp of the shuttle, which was located in a hidden hanger as opposed to a landing platform-no doubt to keep it from being detected as an escape route. They then stayed at the bottom, not giving me a word, as I was led up the ramp by the obviously intimidated pilot. I was led into the passenger cabin, where a pair of white armoured stormtroopers stood on patient guard, silent but ever-present. I sat in the VIP seat, while the pilot took me from the Imperial Palace to the Star Destroyer that would transport me to the training facility.
For the whole journey, I stayed silent. The Emperor, through his control over me via the Force, did not permit me to speak, or move. I was alone with my thoughts for the entire trip, which was probably his intention-another attempt to erode what was left of my free will. I was forced to go over, repeatedly, what was about to happen to me. I was going to die, or I was going to return the ideal tool for the Emperor. Tool, I considered, was an appropriate word to use to describe myself-I was no longer an individual. That had been stripped away from me through the use of the disguise and the forced abandonment of my real name. What really scared me was the idea that the training would be hand-in-hand with propaganda, to ensure a completely loyal and elite cadre of guardians for the Emperor. My free will was the only thing that I had left that I could still consider my own, even if it was trapped within my own head. Would I have even that stripped away from me?
The one light in the whole situation was the necessary requirement that most of the potential recruits would be killed over the course of the year. This meant that some of the best in the Empire would be killed in the battle to become the best of the best, a fact that gave me an inner glow as I realised how these battles may help the rebellion simply through taking potentially key players out of the game. Of course, some of these deaths would be by my hand. While I have no qualms about killing if the situation requires it and if there is honestly no other way that things can play out, the scary part of the equation was the knowledge that the Emperor could ensure that I committed murder even if I wanted to have no part in such an action. Did even these men deserve to die at the hands of a brainwashed pawn?
After a fairly short trip off Coruscant…sorry, Imperial Centre…my shuttle docked at the Star Destroyer which was due to convey me to the Training Academy. A former Republic Capital Ship in the Clone Wars known as the Liberator, it had been renamed by the rising Empire as the Oppresser. An intimidating name, but it seemed to be par for the course-simply another means of generating fear. With the army of clone troopers at their disposal, fear and fear of force would no doubt become the Empire's modus operanti as it expanded its iron fist over the galaxy. My shuttle arrived in the docking bay, where I was met from the boarding ramp by the ship's captain, a fearsome looking man by the name of Travers. He was a veteran of the Clone Wars, one that I had heard of through reputation-a hardliner who believed in the use of force over diplomacy. In other words, a natural for the Empire's New Order. He was a gaunt looking man, with clicked back dark hair kept under his Officer's cap, and his new Imperial uniform kept as crisp and pristine as his Republic Officer's uniform that he had worn previously. If he was surprised at my appearance, he did not show it. He had obviously been alerted of my impending arrival, as well as my special clearance due to my "unique connections". He saluted me as I arrived, surrounded by a few stormtroopers who pointed their blaster rifles at me.
"Conformation of code designation." The man stated in cold tones.
"Confirmation code Alpha-Delta-Epsilon." I replied in my disguised voice. The man looked at me, before nodding in agreement. He signalled his stormtrooper guards to stand down.
"Corde' Sabe' Naberrie…welcome to the Oppressor. I am Captain Travers." He greeted me.
"Operative Shadow will be adequate, Captain." I spoke, with the Emperor's guidance. Though I did not know it yet, this designation was to become my de-facto codename for my Imperial service. The captain simply nodded in reaction to the cold metallic voice, before continuing.
"As you wish, Operative Shadow. There are quarters prepared aboard the ship, as per request. Should you require anything, use the intercom in your quarters to request aid and it will be given. Otherwise, the privacy that you have requested will be given." He spoke calmly and confidently.
It was no surprise to me that I was to be left in private quarters, isolated from all other personnel on the ship-the Emperor clearly did not want anybody discovering my true identity, even if by accident. While I had little desire to interact with these Imperials, the loneliness would play a part in grinding down what was left of my free will and sense of identity…which might have been part of the point. The other potential reason could be to isolate me and ensure that the Emperor's voice was the only one that I heard, thus placing me in a more suitable position to be subtly conditioned from afar by him as he tested his control over me.
The captain stood waiting.
"Follow me to your quarters…" he said, before moving towards the hanger door, accompanied by his squad of stormtroopers. My accompanying squad of stormtroopers accompanied us as we went down the corridor. We took some more deserted corridors, to avoid arousing suspicion at my presence most likely. My quarters were discreet VIP quarters-luxury quarters to cater for a variety of tastes, but at the same time far enough away from the regular quarters and sufficiently hidden that I could ride aboard the Star Destroyer without the rank and file even knowing of my presence. The isolation would get to me, I had no doubt of that. The captain gave me access to my quarters, while my stormtroopers (part of the ship's complement, it turned out) took up positions outside the door. He then saluted, before taking his leave.
I was alone once more. An indeterminate amount of time stretched between me and my fate-a year where I would be shaped into an unquestionably loyal elite killing machine ready to guard the most despicable being in the galaxy.
As the ship made the telltale jolt that confirmed a jump to lightspeed, I lay on my bed and contemplated my potential demise…or my ascension to Imperial guardian to the Emperor. I would meet an anonymous death at the merciless hands of one who sought to gain the role of guarding the most evil man in the galaxy…or die trying, in an endless cycle of death known as survival of the fittest to find out who was truly the best of the best…with the losers utterly discarded and forgotten. Or, alternatively, I would rise to the top of the pile, covered in Imperial blood and would take my place as a mindless puppet to the Emperor.
Which prospect scared me more…? As I sat alone in my quarters, pondering the question in the sanctuary of my head, I realised that the question was one that I could not answer.