Chapter 4: Imperial Roots
Arisin had never enjoyed flying as a passenger. He much preferred being in the pilot's seat with yoke in hand. There, he had complete control over everything. Luckily, this would be a very short flight.
He looked forward to seeing the Imperial Palace. It was one of the tallest buildings in the galaxy; at three kilometers from base to spire, it dwarfed everything around it and stood higher than any structure on the planet. Built many millennia before the formation of the Empire, it had always been an icon in the Old Republic that represented absolute power. It was only fitting that Palpatine continue the tradition and take it as his seat of power. During his rule as Emperor, however, many modifications have been added to the grandiose structure. Its surface was redesigned to hide dozens of capital grade turbolaser batteries. Both the Emperor's personal office and throne room were encased in a layer of cortosis, the only known element able to guard against the energy of a lightsaber's blade.
The palace had more than a dozen secret passages and turbolifts. Even a hidden shuttle bay housed a heavily armored shuttle always on standby for a quick escape whenever the Emperor was on planet.
Its best defense by far was its independent deflector shield. The generators had been installed over one hundred meters into the planet's bedrock, making them impervious to any sort of aerial attack. The shield itself was at least as strong as Coruscant's planetary shield. It was rumored, though never tested, that the shield was strong enough to withstand the full impact of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer and still maintain as much as twenty-five percent shield integrity. The Emperor's throne room had an additional shield generator installed within the palace itself that protected the entire wing.
The shuttle soared gracefully the planet's atmosphere; the ship was flanked by a flight of TIE Interceptors that had formed up on them shortly after departing the Death Star. Arisin glanced out one of the starboard windows and saw clouds streaming past. Off in the distance he glimpsed some of the taller buildings poking through the solid blanket of white. It wouldn't be long now before they reached the palace. He looked forward to finally seeing Coruscant's never-ending skyline.
At last, the shuttle dropped below the clouds and the unending expanse of duracrete and transparisteel was revealed. Billions of ships swarmed the planet like insects, flying in neatly organized grids of flight lanes. Hundreds of levels stretched from the top of the highest skyscrapers to the lowest duracrete crevasse. Perpetual streams of speeders and transports wove between, around, and even through the gigantic structures.
He saw the palace far off in the distance and nearing by the second. He could just imagine the staff frantically preparing for their Emperor's arrival. It truly dominated the landscape. A massive pyramidal structure, it was really an artificial mountain that loomed menacingly over everything for hundreds of kilometers.
As a boy, Lord Arisin used to have a hard time believing that the capital world could be the home of over one trillion beings. It was beyond anything he could comprehend growing up on a world like Tatooine, which sat about as far from Coruscant as you could get while still remaining in Known Space. But looking over the city-planet as he was now, seeing what appeared to be one continuous structure, one layer kilometers thick encasing the entire surface like a glittering durasteel shell, he believed it. The scale was staggering. There were more inhabitants on this single planet than there were stars in the galaxy, in five galaxies. And every day, millions more immigrated to this shining jewel from other worlds too numerous to count.
Leia had of course been to Coruscant many times in her youth. Even before she served in the Imperial Senate, she traveled with her father, Bail Organa, during his service in the Senate. He sometimes forgot that about her upbringing, about her life before the Rebellion, and how radically different it had been from his own. She grew up as a princess on a world well known for its elegance and beauty. It made him angry to think that she had been given a life with no worries, lacking nothing, while he had been forced into the harsh life of moisture farming on a planet notorious for its hatred of anything living.
He tightened his hands into fists and clenched his jaw in anger. For that, he hated Obi-Wan, who had sentenced him to that hellish backwater world as an infant. The old man had watched over him as he grew, could see how he struggled and yearned to escape the life his uncle wanted for him. Obi-Wan could have come to him at any time, told him of the great potential within him, begun his training if only to show the boy that his suffering would one day come to an end. But Kenobi was content to allow him to live in misery for nineteen years. In fact, Arisin was convinced now that had Artoo not escaped that night and prompted him to be in Obi-Wan's section of the Dune Sea, the old man would have simply let him live and die never knowing the truth about his father or the Force or his twin sister.
He pushed away those bitter thoughts, though, and instead decided to enjoy the view this flight afforded him. The shuttle was descending rapidly, heading straight for a large opening in the north face of the palace.
Palpatine, too, looked out across the city, as he always did when he soared above it, be it from a shuttle viewport or from his throne room window. All that stretched from horizon to horizon belonged to him. He had worked his way up from a lowly senate aide to ruler of a galaxy. Coruscant was the largest and most precious gem in his glittering crown of a million worlds. It was times like this, those rare times his mind was at ease, that he recalled in detail his first visit to the planet.
It had been over seventy years ago now, barely in his teens, but even then he knew power when he saw it. His family was from Naboo, simple farmers. Nothing more. When a grain shipment sold for more than expected one season, his father decided to treat the family to a vacation. The decision was to visit Coruscant. His parents felt it would be a valuable learning experience for their only child. They could never have been more right. This was the first time the boy had gotten a taste of politics.
While touring the Senate District, the Palpatines took a guided tour of the Imperial Palace, at the time called the Palace of the Republic. As it happened, the tour coincided with the inaugural address of the newly elected Supreme Chancellor. The family stopped to witness the event, young Palpatine hanging on the man's every word. It was at that moment that he vowed to never live his life as a farmer. He knew even then that he was above that sort of common life. He would be a leader. More than that, he would be a ruler. He looked around at the bustling city sprawled out before him as far as he could see and knew that somehow, someday, it would all be his…
And so it was. He rarely allowed himself journeys into his past. It was over. As far as he was concerned, all that mattered was the future. However, certain moments in his personal history stuck out more prominently in his mind than others and he did enjoy reliving them. All were key moments in his life; most related in some way to his rise to power.
One of the aspects of power he most enjoyed was its ability to control vast numbers of beings. One man ruling millions of billions. Though he was astronomically outnumbered and perhaps, should they all work in concert, could easily be overthrown, he knew the people wouldn't dare. For if they did, they would be directionless, lost to govern themselves. And he discovered early on that people like being told what to do. It makes them feel secure in their lives. For this reason, Palpatine knew that another rebellion was very unlikely, such is the power he held over his Empire.
As they approached the palace, the shuttle prepared for landing. Its dorsal wings folded up and the landing gear lowered with a faint whine. It slowly entered the large hangar and set down gently. The ship's systems powered down and the boarding ramp lowered. Cool air rushed into the cabin, caressing Arisin's cheeks. He took a deep breath. It smelled heavily filtered, artificial. It was likely close to the truth. He imagined that the palace had its own independent air supply that was constantly being filtered for any kind of contagion. The hangar added its own scents to the air. He detected a slight tinge of hyperdrive coolant and mechanical lubricant to the otherwise sterile air.
He stood waiting for his master to join him at the lowered gangplank. He was eager to step foot on the planet.
"Go, Lord Arisin. I know you are anxious to see the city," the Emperor said, motioning to the hangar outside.
Allowing himself a moment of preparation, he tentatively took his first steps down the ramp and onto the hangar floor. He had done it; he had made it to the Capital at last.
The hangar itself was fairly standard, the same as one would see on any Star Destroyer or space station from here to the Outer Rim. However, there was one key difference: the hangar door was open to the outside. No protective energy shield was needed. He stepped up to the large opening and just looked out, savoring the view.
Though he'd seen it from the air, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw from the surface. The sheer magnitude of everything awed him beyond words. At any given time, billions of being were out and about, active in some way. He just stood there, staring, soaking it all in. The Force seemed to vibrate with such a dense concentration of life.
He spun round to look for his master, who was speaking with a man in very ornate robes and a tall hat. The man bowed so deeply that Arisin was certain the headdress would tumble off and then he walked away. The Emperor moved over to Arisin. "I sense a question burning within you, Apprentice. What is it?"
"My father had holdings here on Coruscant, didn't he?" asked Arisin. "Buildings and finances?" It had been said that if all of Darth Vader's assets had been converted into one-credit chips, the mound would be so large that it would take a hundred Human lifetimes of digging to reach the bottom.
"Lord Vader owned a great deal, and on many different worlds," Palpatine confirmed. "Everything that was his is now yours, of course. I shall see to it that you get all access codes immediately. However, I'm afraid that I have some important business to attend to before we address the Empire. You are free to move about the palace, if you wish. I shall contact you when it is our time to depart for the Senate."
Arisin bowed his head in compliance and turned back to the amazing view. He imagined what it would be like to possess it all, everything before him and everything further out to the edge of the galaxy. He decided after a long while to tour the palace as his master had suggested. As he made his way across the hangar floor, work crews swarmed the Emperor's shuttle. They cleaned, tuned, and maintained. It reminded him of hive insects serving their queen. Drones, he thought.
He stepped through a doorway and into the palace proper. He was impressed with what he saw. Just the corridor itself was a marvel. Huge tapestries covered the walls, which stretched up fifteen meters to the ceiling. Each tapestry represented a world in the Empire. The entire Empire was represented in this way throughout the palace. That meant that close to two million of these enormous tapestries adorned the walls of the mega structure. Truly a staggering thought.
The walls themselves were made of a beautiful stone; it was polished black with tiny white flecks throughout. It gave the impression of deep space. The stone which made up the floor was inversely colored. The contrast was pleasing to the eye, and he wondered absently if the entire palace was so richly furnished.
He soon found himself completely lost. Each hallway was identical to every other, each lined with the most wondrous potted plants whose leaves shimmered with rainbow flashes across their surface with every sharp tap of his heel on the polished floor. He deduced that he was somewhere in the interior of the colossal building by the complete lack of windows he found, which he was certain would be very prominent in the outer sections as he had espied the surface of the palace to be aglitter with millions of transparisteel window panes upon their approach from the air. Deciding to simply go up, he found a turbolift and hit the button for its highest reach. He imagined the view would be spectacular from the upper stories. He stepped out of the lift several seconds later onto what seemed to be an observation deck of some kind. Half a dozen people stood gazing out the enormous transparisteel walls in awe at the city that lay before them. He could definitely get used to this.
"Your Majesty, congratulations are in order!" The Emperor's personal aide rushed into the grand office and bowed deeply, almost loosing his large pointed headdress onto the lavish crimson carpet. Sate Pestage had been Palpatine's aide since before he took the office of Supreme Chancellor during the last decade of the Republic, serving him even during his earliest days in the Senate. He was among the few people Palpatine truly trusted. "News of the Rebellion's defeat has already begun to spread."
"It was only a matter of time," Palpatine noted confidently. The pair walked across the breadth of the office while they spoke. "Their fire was bright, but bright fires burn hot and die fast. It was not I, however, who delivered the final blow. The credit for that must go to my apprentice."
"Oh, yes," said Pestage somewhat coldly, looking around the room. His dislike of Vader was far from secret. "Where is Lord Vader, anyhow? I regret that I was forced to leave the Death Star so soon before he ended the war."
The Emperor chuckled, forgetting the aide had left just hours before the throne room battle. "No, not Vader," he corrected. "His son."
Pestage gave the Emperor a quizzical look. "His son? The Rebel boy who destroyed the first Death Star? Skywalker destroyed the Rebellion?"
The Emperor nodded. "And he did so marvelously."
"I must say, Your Majesty, I am rather impressed that you were able to convince him to turn his back on his friends. He always seemed so…incorruptible to his cause. How did Lord Vader die, if you don't mind my asking?" Pestage inquired, barely hiding his morbid desire to know all the gritty details. "I assume he did die," he added, "and you took Skywalker as his replacement."
The Emperor reached his desk. "Certainly, my friend." He sat on his throne and motioned for Pestage to sit in one of the chairs positioned around the giant desk. "Vader died at the hand of his son."
The gaunt old man shook his head in disbelief. "Lord Vader was bested in battle?" he breathed. "But Skywalker is just a child! I thought Vader was a master warrior. I've witnessed his training exercises on more than one occasion and his record of confirmed Jedi kills is impressive, to say the least." So much had happened since he'd left the Death Star hanging above Endor.
"Do not underestimate the Dark Side," the Emperor said simply. "Vader was a great warrior, but Skywalker had much anger in him. Vader was greatly weakened by his personal feelings for his son. And the boy fought superbly. I was immensely impressed by his performance."
Pestage hung on his master's every word. "So how was it that he managed to defeat the Rebellion? If he was fighting Lord Vader, that is. And wasn't a rather large Rebel fleet expected to arrive?"
"Ah," said the Emperor, raising a gnarled finger. "At this point in the battle, Lord Vader lay wounded and dying on the floor. The Rebel fleet came out of hyperspace around the moon just as I had predicted. It was at that point that I gave the order to jump to a safe distance. On Skywalker's command, the Death Star fired and obliterated the moon and with it, the orbiting Rebel fleet." He was still quite pleased with how well his plan had worked.
Pestage sat in his seat smiling broadly. "Marvelous, Your Majesty!" he exclaimed. "You have facilitated the end to the second civil war in as many decades. No doubt the public will wish this day remembered as a galactic holiday."
"Of course," said Palpatine, smiling. "It will be a day long remembered. And the day gets even better, my friend."
"Oh?" Pestage was indeed curious once more. He leaned forward with anticipation.
"Princess Leia Organa herself gave us the information we now have on the whereabouts of the remaining Rebel forces," the Emperor related gleefully. "She hasn't yet fully transitioned to the Dark Side, but soon, very soon, she will come around. I hope to train her as a Hand."
"She is Force-sensitive?" Pestage inquired, puzzled. He was one of the few people in the galaxy who knew of Palpatine's mastery of the Force. As far as most people were concerned, only Lord Vader had such powers.
"Oh, yes," said the Emperor, nodding seriously. "She is twin sister to Skywalker and therefore daughter of Lord Vader. Though perhaps not as powerful as her father or brother, her potential is great. Greater, I believe, than even Mara Jade."
"Oh, Miss Jade is one of your strongest, is she not?" asked Pestage.
"The strongest," Palpatine corrected sharply. "While her strength in the Force is unremarkable, she is cunning and intelligent above all the rest. What she lacks in power, she makes up for in skill. But the princess," he said with a grin. "She has power and intellect. With the proper training, she will be very useful indeed."
Pestage stood from his chair. "Well, Your Majesty, that's wonderful news. Simply wonderful! I very much look forward to seeing what she can accomplish. I'm afraid I've some work to attend to, however. It seems the Hutts wish to renegotiate their border again. Something about a planet just outside Hutt space that they wish to mine."
The Hutts. Palpatine had never liked them; they were bloated and smelly and altogether uncouth. Nevertheless, his personal feelings for the species aside, he had a good measure of respect for them. They were ruthless and intelligent and formidable allies when properly compensated. "Send a survey team to the planet first," he commanded. "If it is of any value to the Empire, reject the Hutts' request." He got an idea. "Or better yet, reject their request to expand their border but tell them that we will allow them to mine the planet. Only tell them they may only hire Imperial miners. And tax whatever it is they're mining at the usual rates." Running a government was much like running a large corporation. It was all about money. "But add a foreign usage fee," he added. That would supply the Empire with a small but steady credit flow for as long as the mines are active.
"As Your Majesty commands," Pestage said. "I shall tell Lord Malloc the Hutt immediately. What if he should refuse your offer?" The old man looked suddenly worried.
"Kill him," said the Emperor simply. "Inform the Hutts that he was assassinated by competitors and that the Empire will gladly offer its services protecting the project leaders, for a price, of course."
"You have a brilliantly devious mind, Your Majesty," Pestage said with a smirk. He was still chuckling softly as he left the office.
Palpatine remembered his first encounter with the corpulent creatures. Surprisingly, it was a pleasant memory, contrary to his current feelings for the species.
He was twenty years old and at University on Coruscant. It was the start of his fourth year and he was taking a very prestigious political science class. It was the first day and everyone had taken their seats; Palpatine sat in the back as usual. He had an inkling that he might be somewhat Force-sensitive and he found that he could oftentimes get a read on people. He could feel his competition and take measures to ensure his success over theirs.
It was during his analysis of the class that the professor entered the classroom. To everyone's great surprise, a very large and very ancient Hutt slithered up to the podium and began taking roll. What surprised them even further was the fact that he spoke near perfect Basic. While the Hutts were physically capable of speaking the language most, even those who knew it, refused. As a result of this, and the fact that the Hutts have their tiny hands in almost every enterprise in the galaxy, Huttese is the second most spoken language across the galactic plane.
"Good afternoon, class," the old Hutt boomed. "I am Professor Kalok. In this class, you will learn the history—and the essentials—of galactic politics from the Ruusan Reformation, which I happen to have witnessed first hand as a Huttling, through this sitting Supreme Chancellor. Who better than a Hutt to teach the finer nuances of politics?" He laughed at his own joke, a warm, deep sound. At first, the class was confused, still unsure whether this was all a joke. It soon became apparent that it was not.
Professor Kalok pressed a button on his podium with a stubby finger. "The syllabus should come up on your desk screens momentarily," he said, his deep rumbling voice reverberating around the classroom.
Just as he had said, the syllabus soon appeared on Palpatine's desk monitor. He skimmed over the document. He was surprised to find that very little class time would actually be spent in the class itself. According to the schedule, they would sit in during several meetings of the Senate, visit some of the top-ranking senators and listen to them speak, and even meet with the Supreme Chancellor at the end of the semester!
As the students read silently, the Hutt professor made his way slowly up and down each extra-wide aisle, learning everyone's faces, datapad in hand. He stopped when he came to Palpatine. "You," he said to the youth as softly as his deep timbre would allow. "I noticed you the moment I entered the room. You were the only student who did not look horrified at the prospect of having a Hutt professor."
"Well, sir, to be perfectly honest, I was rather surprised." Palpatine gazed directly into the enormous magenta eyes. Light green slime oozed from the corners of the professor's mouth. His skin looked tough, like oil-coated greenish brown leather.
"You hid it very well, young—," he checked the roster in his hand and matched the image with the student, "—Palpatine. Have you considered actually going into politics when you're older? It is a great skill for a politician to mask their true feelings about a subject. Their true face, if you will."
"Actually, sir, I have thought about it," the young Palpatine had said. "Though I attribute it to delusions of grandeur, I've often had hopes of someday becoming Supreme Chancellor."
"Hohoho!" The old Hutt chuckled deeply. Palpatine didn't sense this was in any way condescending, however. "Young man," said Kalok, "if that is your dream, let no one take it from you."
Palpatine sat on his throne, fondly remembering that class. He took the professor's words to heart that day. He never once lost sight of his dream. Even at that young age, he had aspirations of power, though, still new to the civilized galaxy, he hadn't yet dreamt of ultimate power. That was soon to change.
The first week of class was boring; it consisted of learning dozens of terms used in politics, most of which were in a dead language not spoken since the formation of the Republic. Regardless, Palpatine found them easy enough and was soon eager to begin experiencing the political world first-hand.
He enjoyed seeing his fellow students struggling where he himself excelled. He quickly developed a good relationship with Professor Kalok. The enormous teacher was greatly impressed with Palpatine's quick advancement beyond the rest of the class. One day after class, he approached the young man.
"Next semester, I suggest you take a more difficult class. Professor Grej'akk'serrit has a class on political strategy. I believe you would find it most helpful on your quest for office someday." He put a small, plump hand on Palpatine's shoulder. "I believe you will be someone, one day."
"Thank you, sir. That means a lot coming from you. Professor Grej'akk— " the young man struggled to remember the odd name.
"Grej'akk'serrit. He's on level four-eighteen of this building," said the Hutt. "I'll speak to him today and recommend you to him for his class next semester."
"Thank you, sir," said Palpatine again. "I won't forget this, sir." And he didn't. Many years later, when he'd succeeded Finis Valorum as Supreme Chancellor, he'd tracked down the aging professor and paid him a small fortune as a personal thank you. Were it not for the chain of events set into motion by Professor Kalok the Hutt, Palpatine doubted he would be sitting on his throne today.
Snapping back to the present, Palpatine called in his Minister of War, Grand Moff Raab.
The large double doors of Palpatine's office slid open and an older man with graying hair and a crisply pressed uniform entered, passing the two menacing royal guards standing just outside the room. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Has the information we have received from the Rebel interrogations been transferred here from the Death Star's databanks?"
"Just moments ago, my Lord," the Moff confirmed.
"Good." He accessed them on his desk terminal. "Sit. I'm sending the information to your datapad."
Moff Raab took his datapad from his breast pocket and watched as the transmission completed. He then pulled up the information and looked over it.
"I have sufficient enough proof that all of this information is indeed accurate," the Emperor said. "It consists of planets, names, and schedules, as you can see. We have even obtained Rebel passwords for those masquerading as officers.
"I'm giving you the command of the Death Star and the entire Endor fleet, with the exception of the Executor. You will send two Star Destroyers to each of the Rebel planets. Demand that the Rebels turn themselves in or the planet will be bombarded from orbit and any ship leaving the surface will be destroyed. Those who do not reveal themselves voluntarily will likely be turned in by those harboring them."
"What of the Death Star, Your Highness?" asked Raab.
"You will take it to the Rebel base."
"And destroy it, Highness?"
"In time, yes," Palpatine said.
Raab looked at his datapad, scanning the list of planets for the alleged Rebel base. He found it. "Naboo? I've never heard of that world."
The Emperor gave the Moff an icy look. "There's no reason you should have," he said coldly. "And it makes no difference. It is home to the Rebel base. It will be destroyed."
Arisin kept his hood up but turned his head to the side, allowing the cool breeze to caress his face. The distant sun was quickly falling below the horizon. It was never truly night on Coruscant. Light poured from billions of windows, buildings were illuminated by huge spotlights and passing transports. Even now, the lights were blazing.
He looked down into the artificial canyons created by the monster structures. An ominous orange glow shone brightly from far below. It resembled an infinitely-forked river of magma, winding its way between and around buildings impossibly tall. Hundreds of levels separated him from the artificial inferno. He was still awed at the size and scale of the city around him.
As the sun set, the air cooled and the gentle breeze became a persistent biting wind. It tore at his robes and threatened to rip the hood from his head. He tightened his sash and lowered his head in submission against the wind. Most of the other observers had already left, unbeknownst to him. He was drawn to the beauty of the sprawling city. When he glanced around, he found himself alone, with the exception of a young man who stood out of the wind by the door.
The man glanced around the area and then at Arisin, who had begun walking toward the open doorway. "Gimme all your money!" he called out, simultaneously producing a very nasty, very lethal-looking vibroblade from his clothing. He jabbed the softly humming blade in Arisin's direction. "C'mon! You heard me, I want everything of value you got! Now!"
Arisin looked calmly at the young man, studying him top to bottom. The man looked about as old as Arisin had been when he'd first met up with Obi-Wan. Barely out of his teens.
"I don't think you know who you're mugging, kid," Arisin warned. "Turn around and walk away and I may let you live." He had to grin. Not two hours on planet and he was getting robbed. He hadn't even left the Palace.
"I ain't afraid o' you!" the kid said with a laugh. "I got the knife, now gimme your money!" When Arisin did nothing, the man lunged. He slashed at Arisin's chest, the blade singing as is swung through the air. Arisin calmly held out a hand, a subtle gesture, as if asking for quiet. The man froze in place, held in the steely grip of the Force. His vibroblade was a centimeter from Arisin's heart, still humming. The man looked at Arisin, eyes wide, confused and frightened.
"You're right. You do have the knife. I, however," said Arisin, reaching into his robes, "have this." He ignited his lightsaber, bringing its emerald blade up to point directly at the would-be mugger's throat. "Now, I know I warned you, right?"
The mugger nodded. He gave a little whimper.
"But you didn't listen, did you?"
The man shook his head, looking terrified. Good.
"I'm going to have to tell my master about this. Do you know who my master is?" Arisin asked, keeping his tone low and even.
The young man shook his head.
"I serve the Emperor," Arisin explained. "I'm the man who killed Darth Vader." He leaned in close to the man's face. "And took his place," Arisin whispered.
The man's eyes widened further, now realizing the terrible mistake he'd made in picking his mark.
"I can save you, if you do as you're told." He lowered the saber from the man's throat.
The man nodded vigorously.
Arisin released his hold and the mugger fell to the ground. "Get up," ordered Arisin. The man slowly climbed to his feet, never taking his eyes off the glowing blade. When he stood upright, he looked into Arisin's eyes. Before he could utter a sound, there was a flash of green as Arisin plunged his lightsaber through the man's chest. The vibroblade he'd been holding fell from his hand and clattered to the ground.
A look of complete shock was painted across the man's face. "But you said you'd save me!" he sputtered weakly.
Arisin looked into his eyes and pulled him close. "I did." He deactivated the lightsaber and clipped it back on his belt, allowing the man's corpse to collapse to the ground.
He sensed his master touch his mind with the Force, transmitting a sense of urgency. It was time to address the Empire. He acknowledged the call through the Force and set off to join the Emperor.
Arisin had never seen the Senate building before but he had heard descriptions from those who had. Those vague descriptions couldn't prepare him for the real thing. The structure was an enormous domed colossus of a building. It was at least five hundred meters tall and easily twice that across, looking like an enormous squat mushroom. Huge statues lined the walkways which led to and around the building. A one hundred meter tall sculpture of the Emperor stood sentinel over the main entrance. Thousands of citizens had gathered at the Senate, despite the hour, awaiting their Emperor's arrival. They didn't need to wait long.
As the shuttle landed, the ever growing crowd cheered. The sound was deafening, even inside the ship. The boarding ramp lowered to the ground and two crimson cloaked guards disembarked, standing watch over the people. The cheers only grew louder as Palpatine emerged from the shuttle and ascended the gangplank, trailed closely by Lord Arisin.
During the flight, he had told his master of the mugger. "One less miscreant," had been the Emperor's response.
Arisin's boots clanked heavily down the ramp after his master. All these people…He'd never seen anything like it. They lined the pathway fifty meters off to each side and stretched for hundreds of meters along the paths, easily a hundred meters deep. Stormtroopers in their bone-white armor were stationed every few meters to keep the people in check. As they walked briskly to the building, Arisin heard large sections of the crowd chanting "Palpatine! Palpatine!" Would a similar crowd one day chant his name?
Off to the left, a man had broken through the line and was sprinting toward the Emperor, shouting curses. The old robed figure gave an almost imperceptible hand gesture and, before even the elite Royal Guardsmen could react, the man toppled over in his tracks, unmoving. Not missing a single stride, the Emperor walked calmly into the building, leaving behind the chanting mob.
Arisin, who had slowed to take in the frenzied atmosphere, hurried to catch up to his master. "Master," he started, "That man back there, how did you kill him?" He was impressed with the abruptness of the death.
"I stopped his heart in his chest," Palpatine answered bluntly. "A simple matter. Focus now about the task at hand," he instructed. "In a few moments, I will address all the citizens of the Empire. I will tell them of our glorious defeat of the Rebellion and of the defection of the two most famous and most hated Rebels to our side." Palpatine halted the precession. "Many will not be receptive to the idea of you being at my side. When it is your time to speak, convince them otherwise. You are their superior. Be sure they understand this when you have finished."
"I will, Master." Arisin was surprised by how nervous he was. He tried several Force calming techniques. They helped some, but he still felt uncomfortable with the fact that soon, countless trillions of eyes would be on him. Use your fear. Let it flow through you and strengthen you.
The inside of the building wasn't what he'd expected. A large hallway circled what appeared to be the main auditorium, which seemed to take up the majority of the massive structure's volume. Doorways and turbolifts were evenly spaced every few meters. Golden statues of long dead Chancellors adorned the hallway and hundreds of banners bearing the Imperial Seal emblazoned on a field of red hung along the walls.
"Leave us," the Emperor said, dismissing their entourage with a flick of the wrist. The guards broke off, leaving only master and apprentice to continue down the hallway. They stopped before an ornate turbolift and went through the open door. To Arisin's surprise, the lift took them down. He estimated it was ten levels or more. It opened onto the ground floor of the cavernous auditorium. Thousands of hoverpods lined the walls, which stretched up for two hundred meters. In the center of the floor stood a podium. The Emperor led him onto the podium with the press of a button, sent the podium rising over thirty meters atop a telescoping pedestal. Small remote holocams floated nearby, waiting to record the imminent State of the Empire Address. Several senate pods were filled with high ranking Imperial officials, eager to hear what the Emperor had to say first-hand.
In unison, all of the holocams' lights flashed on, signaling the beginning of the galaxy-wide transmission. They were now live on over one million planets and nearly ten million colonies.
The Emperor stepped forward.
"The war is over," he announced triumphantly. This was the second such speech he'd given to the galaxy. "Days ago, the Rebellion was dealt a blow from which there can be no recovery. Within days, weeks at the outset, all traces of the terrorist organization known as the Alliance to Restore the Republic will be purged from the galaxy." He smiled. "All remaining Rebels will be caught, tried, and executed for acts of treason against the Empire.
"The war has raged for nearly a generation, costing millions of Imperial lives and hundreds of trillions of Imperial credits.
"I am certain we will recover from this most grievous time only to be stronger than ever! We are a New Empire, once again forged in the fires of war, tested by our enemies and those who would seek to disrupt the peace that we have so long sought after. I wish now to introduce to you all the man responsible for quelling the deadly insurrection once and for all." He turned and placed a hand on Arisin's shoulder, bringing him forward.
"Many of you may recognize him as one of the Empire's most wanted Rebel leaders. I do not doubt that you wonder if he is to be trusted given his crimes against the Empire. I can assure you that he has seen the error of his ways, recognized the destruction brought about by the Rebellion. And when Darth Vader attempted to assassinate me and usurp the Imperial Throne, it was this man who put down the traitor and saved my life, for which I will be eternally grateful." He stood back and allowed his apprentice to speak.
Arisin took a deep breath and began to speak. "You all know me as Commander Luke Skywalker, Rebel pilot, rabble-rouser, and traitor. Forget him. He is dead; he died the moment I was shown the true scope of the Rebellion's actions. The Emperor has shown me how damaging the Rebellion has been, how futile and, most of all, how wrong it was. I am Darth Arisin for now and forever more." He could feel his fear turn to strength as he spoke. "I know that few of you mourn for Darth Vader, my father. Nor should you. He was a stain on the Empire."
Arisin paused, allowing the people watching to let it all sink in. His heart was racing.
"Vader, once known the galaxy over as Anakin Skywalker, died a traitor, without honor. No longer will he be feared or respected. From this day, his name should be synonymous with shame and betrayal.
"I have since taken Vader's place at His Majesty's side. I vow not to make those same mistakes which my father made. I will be stronger, smarter, and more honorable. I am honored to serve the Empire and, in turn, all of you. I will personally ensure that peace is again brought to the galaxy."
He stepped back beside with his master. "Wonderfully said, Lord Arisin," the Emperor said softly in Arisin's ear. "Vader will soon be but an unpleasant aftertaste in the mouth of the Empire." Palpatine stepped forward again.
"Now is a time to rebuild," he said, addressing the Empire. "Bonds that have been broken shall be mended. Families torn apart shall be reunited. Let the healing begin!"
All those observing from the various pods stood and applauded. The holocams turned and swept the small crowd before cutting the transmission. Arisin released a sigh of relief. He felt, finally, that it was over. It was done.
"I'm needed here on the capital," said the Emperor as he lowered the podium back to ground level. "I have many things to take care of, including your sister's training. You will leave first thing tomorrow for the Maw Installation."
"Weren't we to visit the opera this evening, Master?" Arisin inquired.
The Emperor gave a heavy sigh. "It would seem that several key cast members and, indeed, their understudies, were in fact Rebel plants here on Coruscant," he explained. "Evidently, the actors were able to get close to several Imperial officers over time and obtain substantial amounts of information." He sounded genuinely disappointed. "The Rebels, as well as those officers who so eloquently hemorrhaged information, have already been executed as traitors. The opera will close until suitable replacements can be found."
"I understand, Master. May I ask what exactly are the details of my mission? I still feel somewhat in the dark about the whole thing." The podium had reached the ground floor and the Sith disembarked, heading back to the waiting shuttle.
"You are to oversee the final phase of construction of this new weapon." Palpatine paused a moment. "Well, it is not entirely a weapon. It is a massive transportation device, capable of transferring matter, vast amounts, such as naval fleets or, indeed, even an entire planet, from one point in space to another device placed anywhere in the galaxy. There will be several of these devices, spread across the galaxy. The matter can be transported from one of these 'hubs' to any other instantaneously. I'm told a transgalactic journey takes just three seconds."
"You said it can transport entire planets? How is this possible?" They had made their way to the turbolift and were now back in the outer ring of the senate complex. The Emperor's guards still stood where he'd dismissed them.
"The device utilizes newly developed wormhole technology. I don't understand the technicalities of it, only its potential." He motioned for the guards to follow, which they did soundlessly. Their cyclopic visage was unsettling enough to most that few people had the nerve to get within a few dozen meters of them.
The Emperor continued, "I have also arranged to have the Installation work with you on designing and building you a personal ship. It will have all of the newest technology incorporated into it, of course."
Arisin's eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you, Master," he said gratefully.
"There is no need for thanks. Every Sith requires a ship which becomes, over time, an extension of their very being. It will be as much a part of you as your new lightsaber, which I encourage you to construct soon. You cannot continue to carry that Jedi weapon," he pointed to the hilt at Arisin's hip. "It is a part of your old life. You must cast it away with all the rest."
He hadn't even thought about that. So much had happened in the last few days that he'd completely forgotten about the crystal which he'd forged on Korriban.
Outside, the crowd continued cheering for their Emperor. Surrounded by the Royal Guard, Palpatine and Arisin made their way back to the shuttle. Arisin would stay over night and leave for the black hole cluster early tomorrow. He suspected that when he returned, his sister would be well on her way to achieving her potential power. This pleased him. His feelings for her hadn't changed. He still wanted what was best for her. His only concern was that she'd turn on the Emperor and the old man would be forced to kill her. Silently, he prayed that she would see reason and not try anything foolish.
They boarded the shuttle and took their seats. The ramp raised up and sealed itself, barely muffling the crowds outside. The noise made Arisin think. Is this what we were fighting for? These people aren't in need of a savior. Listen to them. They worship the Emperor. This was exactly the sort of thing he needed Leia to see. They were fighting for people who didn't want to be fought for, people who are content where they are.
The repulsors hummed to life, interrupting Arisin's thoughts. The shuttle began to rise, shuddering slightly. It gained altitude and rocketed back toward the Imperial Palace.
Palpatine sat in meditation, thinking of the triumph of the address, similarly lost in his own thoughts. He remembered his first public address...
He was twenty-two, campaigning for a man running for the Coruscanti seat in the Senate. In the beginning, he'd been terrified. The crowd was tens of thousands strong, pulsating with energy. And he could feel it. When the moment came to give his speech, he took all of his angst and buried it down deep. Once he'd begun, he took off like a raging rancor. He couldn't be stopped. He spoke for close to an hour; the entire crowd grew silent, hanging on his every word.
When he'd finished, the crowd exploded. He was so passionate, so charismatic. He had the ability to captivate each and every being listening and he had never even suspected he harbored such a talent. It was almost as though he had cast some spell over the crowd, bent their minds to his own. He knew that if he could continue getting a response like that, the man, a Muun named Damask, would have all the votes he needed to secure him a place in the Senate.
He soon rose through the ranks in the campaign, eventually securing the position of Damask's personal assistant, public relations manager, and primary orator. His speeches became more and more frequent as the campaign neared the end. Damask seemed to connect with young Palpatine. He knew the boy's charisma would take him far.
During one rally, the finally rally before the election, a number of Jedi Masters and their Padawan learners were enlisted to assist the CSF with crowd control. They patrolled the perimeter, on the lookout for troublemakers and other hidden dangers. Palpatine began his speech as he had a hundred times before. But upon seeing the Jedi, a wave of anger, of pure unadulterated hatred washed over him and he nearly froze mid-sentence. Simultaneously, the Jedi all snapped their heads up to scan the crowd for the disturbance they had sensed. When Palpatine sat down after his address, he noticed the Muun staring at him, almost as though in awe, before hastily congratulating him on his rousing oration.
The shuttle flew into the now brightly lit hangar; the Palace was an amazing sight to see lit up at night, a mountain of light. Many of the technicians had left, though a small crew had stayed behind in order to tend to the Emperor's shuttle upon its return. As the ship set down, Palpatine turned to his apprentice.
"Before we left, I took the liberty of acquiring the access codes for your father's quarters, as well as supplying you with a new wardrobe." He handed Arisin a sheet of flimsiplast with his room's codes printed on its clear surface. Arisin folded it up and slid it into his robes. The boarding ramp lowered and the troupe of guards filed down to the hangar floor. "Go," said Palpatine. "You leave early tomorrow. A Sith finds rest when he can."
"Yes, Master." Arisin stood and disembarked the shuttle. Palpatine watched as he exited the hangar and thought of the tremendous battle he had won in turning young Skywalker. And all the battles the new Sith Lord would help him win. Now, he thought, the sister.
Shortly after leaving the shuttle, he was approached in the hallway by a palace technician. "I'm here to ensure you unrestricted access to all parts of the palace as well as all of Lord Vader's personal property," he explained.
Arisin produced the sheet of flimsi the Emperor had given him. "I've already been given the access codes."
"The access codes only get you so far," said the technician. "But there are some sections where codes aren't in use, sensitive or high security areas and the like. After I scan your retinas into the system, you can go anywhere you please without ever having to punch in a single code." He held up a small device that resembled a glowrod. "It's a new system we've installed here in the palace. We're working on integrating it into the rest of our properties across the galaxy, too. Now," he said. "If you'll just hold still and look straight ahead, this'll only take a moment."
Arisin did as he was told, focusing on the far wall just over the man's right shoulder. The tech brought the device up to each eye and, after a quick flash of blue light he was done. "Alright," he said. "You retina patterns have been entered into the system. You're done. Have a good evening, sir." He turned and walked away.
That had been hours ago. Arisin currently lay awake in his new bed. Though the blinds were shut, thin beams of light still streaked through the windows with each passing speeder. Finally deciding sleep was out of the question, he got up. He slipped on his boots and moved to the center of the cavernous room he'd been given. He reached out with the Force and called his lightsaber to his outstretched hand. The moment the cold metal touched his skin, he felt alive. Deciding to practice his fine control of the Force, he ignited the saber and held it before him with both hands.
Slowly, he loosened his grip in the hilt until it sat, floating in the air, unwavering. The constant hum of the blade helped him to concentrate. He first decided to rotate the lightsaber on its horizontal axis, like a drill. He fought to keep the saber perfectly balanced in the air while still spinning it. Once he'd done that, he moved on to something more challenging.
With a sweep of his arm, he sent the lightsaber flying across the room like an arrow; he froze the glowing blade just millimeters from scorching the wall. He spun the saber, this time laterally, as he'd seen Vader do. He sent the spinning green disk hurtling around the room, careful to veer it away a split second before it would cleave something in two. The exercise caused an eerie strobe effect around the room. He continued this control exercise until sunlight sun crept slowly through the blinds in slanting rays across the floor.
Though he'd gotten no sleep, he felt strangely refreshed. He was pleased with his level of control. The last few days had seen further and faster progression than all the last four years combined.
As he dressed into fresh clothes, his room's intercom gave a twitter. He activated the switch with the Force.
His master's voice answered. "Are you ready to leave?" the Emperor croaked.
"I am. Just tell me which ship I'm to take and I'll be on my way."
"Good. Head to the hangar. A shuttle is already prepped and awaiting your arrival. It will take you to your ship. I will contact you once you reach the Installation." There was a click and the intercom ended transmission.
Take me to my ship? What's my ship?
He made the journey to the shuttle bay fairly quickly; it seemed to be second nature lately. Just as the Emperor had said, a single shuttle sat prepared and ready to go. The ramp was already lowered so he made his way into the ship. As he stepped into the cabin, the pilot's voice sounded through the speakers. "Good morning, Lord Arisin. I've been assigned to take you to your ship. I'm told your things have already been sent ahead and are waiting aboard for you. So, if you're ready, we'll take off." The boarding ramp rose and sealed shut with a clank. Arisin took his seat and listened as the engines hummed to life.
"Pilot," he called up to the cockpit. "Just where exactly are you taking me?"
"Um," the pilot sounded confused. "To your ship, sir. The Executor. It's in orbit around the planet."
What? "Oh, yes, of course." Arisin was shocked, to say the least. The Emperor had granted him the flagship of the Imperial Navy. It was well-known and much feared in the Alliance; the Executor had claimed an inordinate number of Rebel lives. It was legendary. And now it was his.
Today is truly a wonderful day, thought the aging Emperor. This dawn marked the beginning of the first war-free day in over two decades. He had finally fulfilled the promise he had made all those years ago to bring peace to the galaxy.
The war had begun with a coalition of senators during the later years of his chancellorship. They opposed the Senate's decision to grant him emergency powers. Like fools, they felt the Clone Wars could have been avoided through diplomacy alone. While he had, of course, been in control of both sides the entire time, the very belief which the senators shared was stupid and weak. No war could be ended with words. What they wanted was unobtainable without sacrifice. You cannot have peace without war.
He had fabricated the war, yes, but only to ensure peace in the future. The Republic was crumbling; a great many systems had lost faith in the Republic and the increasingly ineffectual office of the Supreme Chancellor. So he had created a threat. After being elected Chancellor, he promised to eliminate that threat. To do that, he created a great army, thereby strengthening the Republic. He planned to end the war and breathe new life into the ailing government. Faith would again be restored in the Republic and peace would fall over the galaxy. And he had succeeded, to a point. His popularity was off the charts and the citizens of the Republic had a higher opinion of their government than they had in centuries.
But that group of senators didn't like the idea of a single person with near absolute power. They felt it was dangerous. Before long they accrued a following. Eventually, the coalition became a rebellion. In fighting for "justice," they murdered. In fighting for peace, they warred. In fighting for equality, they preached prejudice towards Imperials. They silently attacked Imperial vessels then denounced the Empire as tyrannical for countering. It was a rebellion based on dishonesty and misdirection. It had been a truly dark time for the galaxy. But now, the chaos had been stopped in its tracks. Everything was being rebuilt. Peace had been accomplished.
As the Emperor sat in his throne contemplating the victory, Sate Pestage came bearing news.
"Your Majesty!" he clamored excitedly. "We've just received word that three more Rebel worlds have surrendered. That makes fifteen in the last ten hours. At this rate, you will have complete autonomy within the week."
The Emperor laced his fingers together. "Excellent. That is wonderful news. These are critical times. We must do what must be done. We cannot hesitate and we can show no mercy. In their desperation, the Rebels will show us none in return." He leaned back in his throne. "Now, I would like the princess brought here within the hour. Make sure she has a room and all the proper access codes. She must feel free to leave at any time. That is the only way to gain her trust so that I may begin her training."
"Yes, Your Highness." Pestage bowed deeply. "She shall be here within this hour. Shall I acquire her a room near Master Arisin's?"
"Yes," said the Emperor. "I think that would be a good idea, though, for the time being, Lord Arisin is away. He is observing the end stage of construction of Gate One. He should be away two weeks at most."
"Ah, yes. The Gateway Project. I've heard astonishing things about that. Can it really do what they claim?" Pestage inquired. "Can it truly move entire worlds?"
"Indeed," the Emperor responded.
Sate turned and walked out of the office, muttering to himself, "Amazing, truly amazing."
The Emperor chuckled to himself. Yes, he thought. It is. He closed his eyes in meditation, devising the best strategy to turn the princess to the Dark Side. He sat quietly, devising…and remembering.
Senate nominee Hego Damask was rich. He came from a very wealthy and very old banking family on Muunilinst. Before immigrating to Coruscant, Hego had spent nearly thirty years on the board of the InerGalactic Banking Clan, just as his father, grandfather, and great-grandmother had before him. Although he was accustomed to using the vast resources at his disposal to ferret out his clients' deepest darkest secrets in order to ensure they made the proper payments on time, none ever discovered his comparatively much darker secret. Hego Damask was a Sith Lord.
He liked to think of himself as a "new breed" of Sith. In order to remain hidden from the Jedi who would certainly kill any foolish enough to reveal themselves, the Sith had learned patience. Unlimited patience. The Jedi would be beaten, of that he had no doubt. But it wouldn't be with the lightsaber, but rather with the pen. He hoped to set into motion events that would lead to the Jedi's political downfall, to destroy them in the eyes of the public, who had always placed them upon pedestals higher than the tallest towers of Harnaidan on his native Muunilinst. He knew it wouldn't happen in his lifetime, he was nearing to sixty Standard years old, so he sought an apprentice. Someone strong in the Force with a brilliant mind for politics. And he'd just found him.
He was sitting on stage at one of his own rallies, the final rally, in fact, before the election. Supporters spoke for him but he wasn't hearing a word. Instead, he was scanning the crowd with the Force for a slight disturbance he'd felt several weeks before during a similar rally. This time, though, Jedi were on patrol. He would need to exercise caution.
Damask's most staunch supporter, a young man from Naboo with a transplanted Coruscanti accent and a shock of auburn hair, was speaking now. Palpatine, the senate hopeful said to himself. He is truly brilliant. Damask had tried to sense the Force within the boy on numerous occasions but had always come up empty handed. It was as though the young man were a void; some hideous entity which even the Force dared not touch. A curiosity, to be sure, but useless nonetheless. Such a pity. The young Human had such a wonderful grasp on politics. Hego foresaw Palpatine going far. Just not as a Sith.
However, because of this peculiar Force-void, Damask hadn't even considered focusing on young Palpatine that day. So when he felt a burst of pure dark rage explode from the young man, he was nearly shocked out of his seat. He quickly scanned the crowd to see if the Jedi had felt the disturbance. They had. But they looked confused. Good, he thought. The fools have no clue where it came from. He took note of one Jedi, however, who was glancing up in Palpatine's general direction. He was a dark-skinned Jedi. Young, likely still a Padawan. Though, with an uncharacteristically shaven head, his status couldn't be positively determined.
Palpatine finished his speech and quickly took his seat beside the tall Muun. The crowd thundered like warring rancors. They loved him. Damask leaned close to the young aide's ear. "That was wonderful, son," he whispered in a nasally voice. "I would like to see you at my apartment this evening. Five Hundred Republica. I have the penthouse on the northern face. Come around eight. I've big plans for you, my boy." He placed a long-fingered hand on the boy's shoulder and flashed him a proud grin before standing to address the still roaring crowd. Palpatine sat in stunned silence.
Later that evening, Palpatine looked anxiously at his chronometer. It was eight sharp. He'd just parked his speeder on the penthouse platform at Five Hundred Republica, right on time. Damask was there waiting, speeder light glaring dimly off the hairless dome of his oddly elongated head.
Palpatine handed the would-be senator a bottle of expensive Alderaanian ale. He wasn't sure of the protocol in a situation such as this. He figured a gift couldn't hurt. "I wasn't sure if I was supposed to bring anything so I stopped off on the way here," he explained sheepishly. He was beyond nervous.
A smile graced Damask's thin lips. "A gift was not necessary, son," the Muun droned. "But it is appreciated. Thank you." He looked at the bottle. Alderaanian ale, aged seven hundred years. Its worn label still showed the Organa family crest. This surprised him. "This is very expensive," he told the boy. "You really should let me compensate you."
"Oh, no, sir. Really, I couldn't take your money." Palpatine had spent every last credit he'd earned in the last three months on that bottle.
"Who said anything about money?" Damask's voice, initially warm and inviting, dropped a few degrees.
A look of confusion crossed Palpatine's face.
Damask swept one long, skinny arm toward the door. "Come, my boy. We've much to discuss."
Five minutes and two glasses of the strong ale later, Damask broke the silence that had developed.
"No doubt you're wondering why I've asked you here," he started carefully.
"I had wondered, sir. It sounded important." Palpatine took one last draught of his drink.
"Indeed it is. Far more than you realize," Damask said, his tone grave. "I am going to share with you a secret. One so dangerous, that if anyone were to find out, we both might be killed. I will give you this chance to walk away. Away from me, away from my campaign, and away from my secret. You will be safe and I will not contact you again." He stopped long enough for the young man to comprehend what he'd just been told. "I am sorry for forcing this decision on you, I am. But it is necessary, believe me. I must ask that you choose now." Hego stared hard at the boy with beady little eyes.
Palpatine's mind reeled. What could the secret be? Was it worth putting himself in danger, possibly mortal, to find out? He'd grown very close to the man over the months; grown to trust him.
"I trust you, sir," the youth said at last. "And you can trust me. You may tell me your secret."
Damask smiled. He knew he could trust him.
"No doubt you know all about the Jedi," Damask began.
At the mention of the Jedi, a brief wave of anger rolled off the young man.
Damask continued. "But you may not know of those who opposed them thousands of years ago. A group called—"
"The Sith," answered Palpatine softly, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. "They were slaughtered by the Jedi for their alternate philosophy concerning use of the Force."
Damask never ceased to be amazed. "Yes, that is correct," he confirmed. "They feared the Dark Side of the Force because they did not understand it. The Jedi do not trust things they don't understand."
Palpatine had been telling himself that very thing since reading The Golden Age of the Sith as a child. It felt good to hear someone else say it, too.
"My birth name is Hego Siv Damask," the Muun said, "but my true name, my Sith name, is Darth Plagueis."
"Darth—? You're a Sith? But-but they've been extinct for a thousand years!" Palpatine sputtered. Then his voice took on a menacing note. "The Jedi saw to that."
Damask smiled. He was impressed at the boy's knowledge. "Not extinct, son. Dormant. Once, the Sith were many. But a thousand years ago, the Jedi defeated them at the Battle of Ruusan. They believed the Sith had all been wiped out in that one fell swoop."
"But they were wrong," said Palpatine, stating the obvious. A smile formed on his lips. Like a child hearing his favorite bedtime story, he leaned in closer.
"Yes, they were. One remained, Darth Bane. He rewrote the Sith Order. In order to remain secret and embody the full power of the Dark Side in order to defeat the Jedi, the Sith would only practice in twos: a Master and an Apprentice. I," he said, placing a hand on his own chest, "am the Master. I wish for you," he placed his hand now on Palpatine's shoulder, "to be the Apprentice."
Palpatine was in shock. Not only was the group he had idolized since boyhood still alive, contrary to history's records, but he was being asked to join it. There were no words in Galactic Basic to describe how he felt. None save one.
"Yes."
Emperor Palpatine sensed someone approach the office doors. "Enter," he called out before they had time to push the call button.
The doors slid open, revealing Princess Leia Organa. Her hands were shackled in front of her.
"Welcome, Princess. I've no doubt this isn't your first visit to this Palace." He bade her come nearer.
Leia crossed the large office and gave the Emperor a cold stare. "Is this how you treat guests, Palpatine?" she said, holding up her bound wrists.
"Why, no, Princess," he said innocently. "Who was it who put these on you?" With a wave of his hand, the binders snapped open and clattered noisily to the floor. He offered her his nicest smile.
"Kavil, a lieutenant, I believe. The same man who picked us up on Endor. He really was quite rude. You should teach your flunkies better manners," she said. Then, in artificial courtesy, she added, "Your Majesty." She returned the Emperor's smile with a smug one of her own.
"Such an ugly expression for such a lovely young woman," the Emperor responded. He pressed a button on the arm of his throne. "Is Lieutenant Kavil still here?" he asked.
"Yes, Your Highness," a voice answered through a speaker hidden in his desk.
"Good. Send him in immediately." He looked the princess in the eye. "This will take but a moment, Your Highness. Feel free to take a seat."
"Thanks, I'll stand," she said defiantly. She did, however, move to the large panoramic window the office boasted. What is he up to? she wondered.
"Whatever you wish." The door chimed, and then opened, revealing the young lieutenant responsible for the Rebels' capture on Endor. He looked terrified and excited at the same time.
"Come in," said the Emperor warmly.
Kavil looked first at the Emperor, then to Leia, as he stepped slowly through the doorway and into the large room. The giant doors slid shut behind him with an ominous clang.
"Lieutenant Kavil. You are the individual responsible for the capture of the Rebel infiltrators on Endor, are you not?" the Emperor inquired.
Kavil straightened. "Yes, sir. I am," he said proudly.
"That is very good, Lieutenant. Tell me, does the Rebellion exist any longer?"
The confused lieutenant began to sweat. "N-no, sir, it doesn't."
"Then perhaps you can tell me why the princess here was brought in wearing those," he said, gesturing towards the binders lying on the carpet.
Kavil swallowed hard before answering. "B-because she is a Rebel, sir."
"Ah, but you said not ten seconds ago that the Rebellion no longer exists. So I will ask you again," Palpatine's tone turned as cold as ice on Hoth. "Why was the princess brought to me in wrist binders?"
Kavil fought with his knees to keep himself standing. He looked at the princess, who was doing her best to keep her attention on the outside traffic and not on the situation unfolding behind her. "I-I just assumed—"
"You assumed what, Lieutenant? That an unarmed girl would be some sort of danger to me in my own palace? Are you under the impression that I am in need of your personal protection? That I am in some way incapable of defending myself?" He stood from his throne and walked towards the young officer, who looked to be on the verge of collapse.
Kavil didn't answer. Sweat poured down his face. His entire body twitched with fear and anxiety. The Emperor brought up one hand. Blue energy laced between the fingers. "I am never unarmed," he said menacingly.
"Today is the first day of the New Empire," he said lightly. "In upholding the spirit of change, I will have the princess choose your punishment. She is, after all, the wronged party."
Kavil's eyes shot over to Leia, who snapped her head over to the two men abruptly. "Me?" she asked, confused.
Tendrils of dark energy continued to crackle between the Emperor's pale fingers, casting eerie flickering light on his robes. "Yes. Any punishment you choose, provided it fit the crime. The degree of the crime is to be determined by you, of course." He lowered his hand and the energy evaporated. Kavil let out a somewhat relieved sigh.
Leia looked at the man's frightened face, into his eyes. She felt sorry for him. But then she remembered. "You," she said, anger creeping into her voice. "You're the one who shot Chewbacca."
Kavil gulped. "T-the Wookiee? He was resisting arres—"
"He wasn't resisting anything," she interrupted. "One of your men had a gun shoved in my back and he didn't like that. He was protecting me from one of your trigger-happy goons. And you shot him." Fury flashed in her eyes as she replayed the event in her mind.
She turned to the Emperor. This was what he'd been waiting for. "A life for a life," she said. "He murdered a friend." She looked back at Kavil. Her face was cold and expressionless. Her words carried no emotion. She might as well have just swatted an annoying insect. The Emperor smiled.
"Yes, I think that is more than fair. Don't you, Lieutenant?" he said, turning back to the man.
"Wait—!" Before he could say another word, crackling energy leapt into his body from the Emperor's fingertips and he was dead in an instant.
"I am not an unfair man," said Palpatine as the body crumpled to the floor, lightly smoking as residual energy arced along the corpse's clothing.
Leia said nothing. She just looked at the body of the lieutenant whose death she herself had just ordered. She suddenly found herself feeling bad. Not that the man had been killed. He had certainly deserved death. No, what she felt bad about was the fact that she herself hadn't killed him. What she had just witnessed wasn't murder, it was justice. Wasn't that what she had been fighting for all these years? Maybe the Emperor could help her after all. With his training, she could not only continue to fight for justice, she could actually ensure it.
"You want to train me," she said. It was not a question.
"Yes. I wish for you to be my Hand in the galaxy. Where justice must be served, you will be there. I can teach you to use the potential power within you."
"And if I accept, you would train me personally?"
"Yes."
"Pardon my bluntness, Your Majesty, but aren't you a little old?" Leia seemed to know no fear. She stared directly into the old man's sickly yellow eyes. He gave her a smile.
Before she could begin to comprehend what was happening, a shadow flew over her head and the Emperor was gone.
"Age makes little difference to the Dark Side, princess," said the shadow. The sound of his voice from behind her made her jump. She whipped around and found herself face-to-face with the ancient human.
"Spry for an old man." She tried to hide her complete surprise. After a brief moment of silence, she locked on to his gaze and said, "Alright. I'm yours."