The Force Games
By Sivad Ttarp
Prologue to the Force Games:
"And now, young Skywalker, you will die."
Emperor Palpatine's arms tingled as if pricked by thousands of needles as pure negative energy poured from his fingers, taking the form of blue electric lightning.
Luke Skywalker's screams echoed through the cavernous throne room.
It really was better this way, Palpatine decided, regarding the black-clad, blonde-haired, young man prostate on the floor beside the shaft leading to the main planetoid frame of the Death Star II below.
"Father, please," the boy choked, contorting in pain as the blue current flowed through his body. The sparks reflected of the mirrored black surface of Darth Vader's armor. Luke's father's labored breathing was the only sign the Sith Lord was not a statue.
Luke was not his father, Palpatine decided; he would not have been turned so fully, so satisfactorily. There was resemblance to be sure: their strength in the force, their knack for technology and vehicular daring, their sense of honor and self-righteousness. But Anakin had come to him freshly seasoned with doubt, confusion, and fear. A life of poverty and pain suddenly elevated and exposed like a raw nerve to all the myriad philosophies and confusions of a galaxy in turmoil. The result was blinding, and Anakin sought meaning that could not be found in the passion of love with a certain Senator from Naboo and control the Jedi's code could not offer. Luke shared none of these things; he had a stability Anakin never had. Palpatine supposed he had ultimately had Obi-Wan Kenobi to thank for that. He'd turned the boy into a force of hope, and not Palpatine's hope.
Darth Sidious intensified the severity of his attack. Luke Skywalker was a liability, too dangerous to be allowed to live. Unfortunately, someone disagreed.
"NOOOOO!" the shout alerted Palpatine just in time, as his broken apprentice launched into action. Palpatine spun on the lumbering knight, propelling a fistful of force lightning into his chest plate. A scream more mechanical than human resounded from the armor as Darth Vader collapsed in a steaming heat. The smell of burnt flesh was sweet in Palpatine's nostrils.
Palpatine felt a tremor in the force; Luke was reaching out, attempting to draw his own emerald bladed lightsaber to him. A fighter to the very end. Palpatine knocked it away with a flick of his wrist and a manipulation of the force. He then unleashed another blast of lightning. This time there was no one to stop him.
Luke's back arched as he hovered inches above the floor, surrounded by blue light. Energy still pouring off him, Palpatine walked slowly toward the boy, looking impartially into his face. Luke's eyes filled with blood as his heart popped.
Palpatine flicked his wrist again, tossing the corpse into the shaft. He didn't bother to watch it fall.
He bent to pick up Luke Skywalker's lightsaber hilt from where it lay. It wasn't a poorly made weapon, for a beginner.
The only sound in the room was now the rasp of mechanically assisted breathing. Lord Vader.
"Do you still live even now, little Annie," Palpatine chuckled. "You never could learn when to die." Vader did not reply, perhaps he could not. No matter.
Palpatine activated the lightsaber. The green blade arched down. A black helmet rolled away from the body. Palpatine allowed his old and perhaps dearest friend a moment of reverence, before bringing the lightsaber down again and again. Just to make sure.
Alarms began to blare. Palpatine knew what had occurred. Their little confrontation had turned his attentions from the larger battle. Even now the Rebel Alliance ships were assaulting his battle station. He also knew there was a comfortable shuttle awaiting him in the hanger below. They might not succeed in exploiting the station's weaknesses, but Palpatine wasn't confident. It was better to be safe than sorry.
He entered the elevator. The ship shook as it began to descend (Palpatine drew on the force should he need to protect himself if the shaft became compromised). He felt refreshed. Usually events came together by design, but sometimes it was for the better that they did not. He was through with Skywalkers. Or at least he would be once he saw to the death of one Leia Organa.
Palpatine had always considered himself a game-master. The universe was his to control, his only true opponent the limitations of his capabilities. Perhaps it was time for a change. No more fooling around with new apprentices and sentimental sith traditions and this pathetic Galactic Civil War. Yes, this was a situation he could most certainly change in his favor.