Chapter Ten: The Emperor's Fist
He was Darth Shaddix, Dark Lord of the Sith. He was rage incarnate, and he left death and destruction in his wake. He was the Emperor's Wrath given human form, and he was without mercy.
For two years he moved among the elite of the Empire, wreaking his Master's vengeance on those who failed to stay within the limits imposed by the Palace. His first victim: a Moff in the Meridian Sector who was subverting nearly seventy percent of the sector tax revenue into his personal coffers. Shaddix landed his Sith Infiltrator on the garden of the man's luxurious palace on Nyemari. The Moff was less than pleased at the intrusion and had the Sith Infiltrator surrounded by his personal marine guard for two hundred men.
An hour later, standing alone in a field of bodies, Shaddix commed the local garrison to inform them that the Moff was dead, his personal effects escheated to the Emperor, and that a new Moff would be appointed shortly.
His second victim was actually a Hutt crime lord on Keldooine. The Hutt ruling kajidics disowned Gorban for his violent actions against both the other Hutts and the Empire, putting at risk the fragile, unspoken agreement Hutt space had with the Empire for semi-autonomy.
Unlike his first victim, Shaddix did not have Imperially mandated security codes that would let him land in the creature's gardens. Instead, he killed one of Gorban's off-duty Klatooinian servants, donned a mask and a hood, and walked in casually as if he belonged there. He never fired a shot—rather he used the Force and literally crushed the criminal's brain within his skull. Gorban screamed and writhed and struggled while his people stood around in disbelieving shock, and none of them ever realized they had a Sith within their midst.
He left the next day as the nearest Imperial Garrison moved in to complete clean-up operations.
So it went, mission after mission. He knew he was not the only agent of the Emperor—once on Nar Shadda he spotted the vibrant red hair of the girl he fought in the Palace before he had a name. However, he did not pursue her or even look twice. She was his Master's Hand, while he was his Master's Fist. She had her own mission, and he would not interfere so long as she did not interfere with him.
No one knew his name, but his presence and his actions did not go unnoticed. Word began to spread among the upper echelons of the Empire that the Emperor had a new servant as deadly as Vader, but quieter and more efficient. Vader was a mallet that crushed all before him, went the whispers; this new killer was a vibroblade that cut out the cancer before the body knew what was happening.
In the minds of those in power who had the most to lose, and the most to fear, they envisioned Shaddix as a shadowy nightmare in black robes or armor, like Darth Vader or the other Dark Side adepts the Emperor employed. In fact, Shaddix did own a black Ubiqtorate Uniform and armor that he used on occasion. However, it was hard to blend in like that. As he discovered with his second mission into Hutt Space, Shaddix liked to blend.
It was for that reason he moved unnoticed among a crowd of civilians in brown slacks and a dull, faded blue tunic for his latest mission. He wore a thick utility belt—a common enough article among the working class—and there was no sign of a blaster or any other weapon hanging from it. To the thousands around him, he was just another worker returning home from a long day.
Home in this case was Gogun tower, a residential structure in the Archais Sector of Alsakan. It was Shaddix's twentieth mission for his Master after two years as his acolyte. Though he carried the title of a Sith Lord, while Vader remained Shaddix could not be counted as the Emperor's true apprentice. Not yet, at any rate.
Some of his missions over years saw him commanding whole battle groups, but most were like his current mission—infiltration or hunting. Today, he was hunting one of his own.
Like Imperial Center, Alsakan was an ecumenopolis—its planetary surface had long ago been lost under a planet-wide city that in some ways rivaled Imperial Center itself. The towers were just as resplendent, it's under-levels just as dangerous. The difference was that Alsakan was ruled by monarchy under the auspices of an Imperial Moff Governor, while Imperial Center was ruled absolutely by the Emperor of the galaxy.
His mission brought him to this world after a solid month of searching. Clues and contacts finally gave him what he needed to pick up his target's trail, and now that he had it, the Force itself guided him.
He took a lev train directly into the heart of the Gogun Tower, which like all those around it housed a half million or more low- to mid-level bureaucrats or private-sector employees who lacked the resources to move out or the ruthlessness to move up. The people who lived in this sector were Alsakan's middle class.
Once off the unloading platform, he entered the park level of the tower. Most residential towers had them, usually flanked by shops for the residents, given the absence of open land on the planet. In this case, the park was rather run-down, with bare patches of soil where grasses had faded or died, and unhealthy looking trees struggling under the artificial lighting five levels overhead. Surrounding the park were the premium homes—those owned by the most well-to-do residents in the tower, who had enough for placement but not enough for escape.
Another lift took him down, rather than up. The tower rose up from the depths of the city underground, and the income levels could be traced predictably by floor. Though he boarded the turbolift with a crowd, by the time he reached his designated level, he was alone. He stepped into a poorly lit maze of plain grey halls, on a level that easily housed a thousand people in small loft apartments. This is where the young, single workers lived, or those who were older but had failed in their profession. Even so, these small apartments would drain them of their credits—housing was expensive on the Core Worlds.
He walked slowly, eyes closed and senses extended. Several times he turned around and backtracked, or walked in circles, until finally he reached his destination. The door looked just like any other; its number was 42-2546, only forty two levels from the base of the tower and the denizens that haunted the under-levels of the planet-wide city.
He knocked on the door since it would have no announcer or chime, not on this level. A moment later he heard a beautiful, contralto voice say, "Who is it?"
"Building services, ma'am," Shaddix lied easily. "We have reports of a coolant leak on this floor. I need to take an air sample from your apartment. Won't take a minute."
"Why haven't I heard anything?" the woman asked.
"We're not exactly eager to advertise it," Shaddix said. "We're hoping we can contain it without sanction. You heard about what happened over at Tangaretta Tower—had to double the occupancy fees to cover the fine."
Behind the door, he heard a snort. "Right," she said. The door locks clicked and it swung open to reveal a startlingly beautiful woman with thick, rich black hair and violet eyes. She wore only a night gown that barely reached the thighs of her long, well-toned legs, and did more to accentuate her breasts than cover them.
He took the sight of her in all in a second, as she did the same to him. And in that second, as her eyes widened with recognition of what he truly was, Shaddix struck. Blue Force-lightning blasted her back into the small apartment; he followed and paused only long enough to kick the door shut.
Despite the blow, she was already lifting herself to her feet. She reached out a hand and from a corner of the small loft a lightsaber came hurtling toward her. Shaddix ripped the saber from her control, activating it in mid-flight and spinning it like a rotor.
She screamed and tried to jump back, but even with the Force she was not fast enough. Her arm fell to the floor of the apartment with a dull thud, leaving her to stare down at the cauterized stump in shock. It happened so quickly she did not even time to register the pain.
A second later Shaddix was on her, pinning her to the floor and feeding agony into her body with a power not even his Master possessed. She convulsed and screamed, but with his hand holding her chest down, she could not escape.
Finally he relented and her convulsions stopped, her cries replaced by sobs.
"Our master is saddened by your actions," he said to the sobbing woman under him. Disheveled and broken, he did not even hide his leering glance at her exposed breasts. He fondled one, saying, "Your skill as a courtesan won you prestige you have thrown away. You could have been his highest-ranked Hand, and yet you have betrayed him."
"I am still loyal!" she said in a voice thickened by tears and screaming. "I serve the Empire!"
"But not the Emperor," Shaddix whispered, leaning over until his lips brushed hers. "Where did you go when you left Imperial Center, Shili? You went without our Master's permission, and then fled to this world, trying to lose yourself. Why are you hiding from Our Master, Shili, if you are still loyal?"
Despite her pain, the threat of death pushed Shili Atuun to use every power at her disposal. She arched her breasts up seductively, projected desire with the Force, and whispered in a husky voice, "Let me go and I could make it worth your while. There was a reason I was a favored concubine. I could make you melt with pleasure."
"And I can make you burn with agony," Shaddix whispered back, smiling grimly. "Where did you go, Shili?"
She wrapped her long legs around him and lifted her pelvis to grind against him. "Let me live, and I'll tell you everything. I'll give you everything."
He pressed down with his palm, and again struck her with agony. She tried to fight the scream, but of course she could not. Even Vader himself would scream under this agony. Yet even in her agony, she ground her body against his, and he would not lie to himself that he did not respond. She was talented girl, and a deceptively skilled fighter. The targets of her affections rarely survived.
When at last he released her, he said to her sobbing face, "You will tell me what I want to know, and I will take whatever I wish. Perhaps, if you please me enough, you might live a little while longer."
Sobbing and trembling with the after-effects of his attack, she said, "Kamino! I was on Kamino. Vader summoned me to train his new pet project."
"Project?"
"Clones!" she said. "He cloned that dead acolyte of his, Marek. Hundreds of clones raised like clone troopers. Some he had the Kaminoans alter, some he did not. He's building a whole army of troopers, Saber Guards and Sith Acolytes that are loyal only to him. He is the threat to the Emperor, not me! He ordered me to train the saber guards—how could I refuse him? He would kill me if I dared."
With surprising gentleness, he reached down and cupped her cheek in his hand. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
She blinked back her tears. "Will you let me live?"
"Perhaps, if you give me enough reason."
She squeezed her legs tightly around him, and despite the pain coursing through her muscles, ground herself against him again. "I can do that. I will do it!"
Of course, she knew he could not let her live, just as surely as he did. Disarmed and wracked by pain, she still demonstrated the skills of a learned and talented courtesan. Shaddix did not even realize what he was doing, at first, until he realized with a start that he had eased her pain with the Force, allowing her to move more freely as they coupled. When they finished, sweating against each other like lovers rather than enemies, she stared up at him with wide, knowing eyes.
"Thank you for being gentle," she whispered. "Please make it fast."
Feeling strangely numb, Shaddix leaned down to kiss her forehead. With the touch of his lips came a wash of Force energy that pulled her down into slumber. Her eyes blinked, instinctively fighting against it, before she realized what he was doing and succumbed to the gentle bliss of post-coital sleep.
Shaddix stood off her and pulled his clothes back on, all the while looking at her perfect, exquisite naked form. Once dressed, he pulled one of his lightsabers from his utility belt and lit it; its red light illuminated the dim room, making her skin look red.
With shock, he realized his hand was trembling. Why was it trembling? What was different about Shili than all his other targets over the past two years? The answer, of course, was simple. For a brief time, as they coupled, they shared a simple, ancient intimacy he had not felt before in his waking life. What happened with Drayneen was not sex, it was a display of dominance and hatred.
But with Shili—she knew she was doomed. If not him, another would come and she would be just as dead. But for reasons not even Shaddix understood, he released her from the pain he had to cause her, and for twenty minutes they shared their bodies and gave each other pleasure. He knew she enjoyed it as well, he could feel it in the Force. For those brief moments, it was possible to forget that she was destined to die at his hand.
Now, having given her the mercy of a death in her sleep, his hand trembled and he could not understand why. "Damn you!" he whispered, though he did not know to whom spoke. Through sheer will, he forced his sword arm up and then down swiftly, ending Shili's life in as gentle a fashion as any Sith knew.
He spun away, ignoring the sudden spike of pain in his skull, and started to leave. He paused, though, as he walked by a mirror and saw with shock a trickle of blood running down from his nose. He wiped it with the back of his hand and stared down at the dark red fluid in disgust. "Weak," he muttered. "I've broken those chains. I will not be weak anymore!"
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
In his black Ubiqtorate uniform and armor, Shaddix knelt in silence before his master. The hour was late, but the Emperor rarely slept, and some meetings were best for those hours where only the dark dared to go.
"You showed her mercy," the Emperor said in a flat voice.
"She served you loyally once, my Master," he said.
"Are you sure your mercy was not for other reasons? She was a beautiful woman, and you are a young man."
"I took my pleasure with her," Shaddix admitted; he could not lie to his master, ever. Even the thought of lying caused shards of white-hot pain to lance through his mind. "Darth Vader as your apprentice commanded her, and her mistake was in obeying him without informing you. She knew she was to die, and asked for it to be quick. I gave her this last mercy."
"The Sith do not show mercy, boy!" the Emperor spat. "She should have died in agony like the idiot little harlot she was! If you wanted her sex, then you should have taken it by force and left her screaming and ripped open for your pleasure. She was the courtesan, not you!"
There were no apologies, nor begging for forgiveness. In a dead-sounding voice, he said: "I was weak, Master. Please punish me so that I may learn to be strong."
He was punished, for almost a solid hour. By the time the Emperor was done, Shaddix could not stand on his own. It was the Emperor who left the small audience chamber, sneering in disgust. When at last he could stand, Shaddix stumbled back to his own quarters to recuperate. Collapsing still clothed in his bed, he stared up at the ceiling and went over the mission's events. Again and again, his mind went back to the look in Shili's face when he dulled her pain and slipped into her.
At the time, he did not realize what her expression meant, but now, looking back, he realized she was looking at him in gratitude. For that brief moment, she was allowed to feel life and pleasure when she had no right to even hope for it.
"I was weak," he said, wiping at his nose. He was weak, but though he could never admit it to himself, he was not sorry.
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
The next day, he knelt once more before his Master. Palpatine sat on his throne, flanked by a pair of Imperial Guards in the otherwise empty room.
"Lord Vader has had enough leeway," the Emperor said flatly. "His game grows tiresome. He is growing his own cloned troopers, based on new genetic material, as well as his experiments in cloning his former disciple. Consider this your test, Lord Shaddix. If you kill him, then you shall be my new apprentice. If you fail, then Lord Vader will have proven his worth to remain as my apprentice. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Know this, boy," Palpatine said, leaning forward to stare intently with his Sith-orange eyes. "Lord Vader is strong. He cut down the very children he helped to teach years ago. No mere weakling of a boy can hope defeat him, only a Sith who is strong. Are you strong, boy?"
"Yes, Master."
"I hope so for your sake, boy, otherwise my efforts in training you will be wasted. Go now."
Shaddix stood, head still bowed, and backed form the room. Once beyond, he straightened with determination and strode purposely down the hall. His personal craft rested in a private hangar in the palace next to an old, unused Geonisian solar-sail ship and the Emperor's personal shuttle.
He walked up the ramp as if the ship had always been his and he were coming home, and in truth it felt it. The ship was spacious, able to comfortably hold a crew of six, though automated for one. He dropped his satchel in his quarters before examining the holding cells and storage bays. The ship had nearly six months of consumables on it, and held enough fuel for just as long. It was originally built as a star courier, but adjusted by one of his predecessors to work as a personal ship similar to the Sith Spheres of old.
Finally, finishing his inspection, Shaddix settled into the pilot's seat and stared out into the dimly lit hangar. He closed his eyes and meditated, surprised at how unsettled the Force seemed. Something important was about to happen, and it brought not just terrible danger, but also powerful hope. The problem was that Shaddix was still too young and inexperienced to be able to tell if the hope was for his success, or his failure.
In the end, he realized, it did not matter. He had to obey his Master, even if it meant walking into his own death.
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
Shaddix meditated while the ship flew, readying himself for his test. As he did so, he repeated the Sith Code to himself again and again:
Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.
The power and truth of the words settled into his mind and body, sharpening both to a razor point. He was going to be ready, and he would either succeed and take his rightful place at his Master's side, or he would die a Sith.
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
When his navicomputer told him he was at his destination, Shaddix settled into his seat and prepared the ship's cloaking device. The moment he decanted from Hyperspace, he began to activate his cloak, only to be rocked by laser cannon fire. Startled, he looked out with shock at a full-scale battle in orbit.
Again his Infiltrator was raked by laser cannon fire, forcing Shaddix to roll away from the flurry of fire. The blinking red light assured him that the delicate cloaking mechanism was off line, but at this point he didn't think it would matter. In the distance, he saw a Star Destroyer erupt in a brilliant, white ball of energy as its reactor went.
Had the Emperor known of this battle? Was this part of Shaddix's test?
It only took a quick glance at the planetary surface to see something had cracked Kamino's shields. Through the constant cloud clover, he could see a smoldering streak of darker smoke and the residual fires of something big scarring the surface. At least ten transports and couriers were making for the planet's surface.
The four remaining star destroyers and their fighters appeared to be wavering under the Rebel assault, which infuriated Shaddix. The power of a single star destroyer should have been enough to withhold half the fleet assembled. Reviewing tactical information even while he flew the Infiltrator in and out of the battle, he began to see what was happening.
The ship that blew up was the Immovable, the strike force flag ship. Making a quick decision that could come back to bite him or confirm his readiness to serve as Apprentice, he flipped open a channel and quickly broadcast security codes that immediately identified him as having an Imperial Mandate. "Imperial fleet, who commands?"
"Captain Talaric of the Glory. Who is this?"
"Your new fleet commander," Shaddix snarled. "Your ships are being torn to shreds. Reform your ships into a phalanx formation. I can't find a single TIE bomber in orbit—get your bombers into the fight and target those enemy capital ships."
"But we…"
"I speak with the Emperor's voice, Captain. Shore up your defenses and do as you're told, or it won't be the rebels that kill you."
"Yes, m'lord," came the subdued voice. Shaddix saw with satisfaction that the two ships that were so badly out of line quickly moved into a position with the other four ships, forming a spear-shape that allowed for better overlapping defensive fire. Within minutes, TIE-bombers began spilling out of the four destroyers, flanked by Blastboats and TIE-fighters to ward off the rebel fighters.
Duty of the Empire's soldiers done, Shaddix spun his ship to the planetary surface, coming quickly upon the thrusters of one of the rebel transports. Without hesitation he brought the two solar ionization cannons up to power and began pelting the transport with fire.
The solar ionization cannons were rare because of the sheer power they required, but they were also effective for that very reason. He brought his ship higher against the plane of the transport's passage to get past the reinforced plating that framed its thrusters, and started shooting into the ship's engineering section.
From that angle, it only took six shots to take the transport out. When he blew past the billowing flame that rode the edges of the out-gassing oxygen, he saw that the other rebel transports were already in the atmosphere heading toward the scar that marked where they had cracked the planetary shields.
He set his course and followed.