AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Panes of glass shatter as a single agonizing shriek echoes and reverberates for all to hear. Ceiling tiles and panels crumble and fall to the ground. Doors are blown open and a single unfortunate protocol droid standing in the corner finds itself crushed into a small clump of scrap metal. At the center of a veritable hurricane of rage lightening arcs and crackles with horrific intensity.
A single unfortunate officer lies dead upon the floor, burnt to a crisp. His only sin was to faithfully deliver a message to his master. The Master knows that the officer wasn't responsible for this message or the events surrounding it, but he cares little for such trivialities at the moment.
This isn't possible. It simply can't be true.
The Death Star, the very personification of my authority has been destroyed.
Destroyed by Rebels.
Such insolence! How dare these Rebels destroy my masterpiece. My very tribute to the Darkside, the very symbol of the New Order, gone in a puff of smoke due to a simple thermal exhaust shaft connected directly to the main reactor. Why can't they simply just lie down and die? I'll exterminate them all in the most painful way possible for this. They'll need to invent new words just to describe the suffering I plan to inflict on these fools. It is a mockery of my right to rule. It is wrong. No one makes a fool out of me and lives.
Decades of planning, millions of slaves worked to death, billions of tons in raw material invested, and trillions of credits spent, all of it blown to smithereens in a millisecond by some no name pilot and his little rag tag band of misfit would be revolutionaries. Unacceptable, absolutely UNACCEPTABLE!
My hand slams down on the intercom on my throne with enough force to break it. Soon enough another officer appears, clearly scared out of his mind.
"It's been five minutes Colonel. I ordered you to contact Lord Vader, where is he?" I bark, my body practically shaking with barely restrained outrage.
"We-we've been unable to c-contact Lord Vader S-s-sire, perhaps he was killed—AAAAHHHH!"
The Colonel's incompetence displeases me, and so with but a thought he finds himself suddenly being thrown out the window to plummet to his death. I know that Vader lives. Even half a galaxy away I can sense his pitiful presence limping to the nearest Imperial base with his tail between his legs. He should have prevented this! He has enough self-preservation skills to realize that it would be best for his health to avoid contact with me until my temper has cooled. I'll deal with him later then.
But just because Vader is out of my reach doesn't mean I can't punish someone responsible for this catastrophe. A shame that Tarkin is dead, gone down with the ship like any good commanding officer would. His arrogance and his belief in his own invincibility was responsible for this catastrophe as much as anything else. If he had scrambled the entire fighter division this never would have happened.
Again I slam on the intercom and this time a Major is summoned to my presence.
"Summon Bevel Lemelisk at once." I snap.
The Major nods and turns to carry out the task. Ten minutes he returned with an ashen look on his face.
"Your Majesty, Dr. Lemelisk has, has-" he stammers, looking absolutely terrrified.
"OUT WITH IT!" I have no patience for this stupidity. Not today.
"He has gone into hiding sir and refuses to contact you." The Major blurts out. The Major takes a hint from the murderous glint in my eyes, and so he turns around and jumps out the window the Colonel was thrown through earlier, plummeting to his death. He was evidently smarter than he looks.
For a third time I slam the intercom button. This time Ysanne Isard enters the throne room.
"I want your best agents to track down Bevel Lemelisk and bring him to me NOW!" I order.
"It will be done Your Majesty." The Intelligence Director responds.
Three days and twelve dead servants later Bevel Lemelisk, the engineer who designed and helped to construct the Death Star is brought before me kicking and screaming. I have something special planned for him. Locked in a glass cage and brought into my throne room Lemelisk looks terrified.
"I am most displeased with your performance, Lemelisk." I begin.
"I put a great amount of time and effort into the construction of this Death Star. This was to be my crowning achievement, the tool with which I would solidify my hold over the galaxy for all of eternity. When this project began I was promised an invincible doomsday device. That station could have brought me complete invincibility. Who in the galaxy could have opposed me with such glorious power at my disposal?"
I lean in closer until my forehead is pressed against the glass. Lemelisk tries to back into a corner, so terrified as my yellow eyes only seem to glow brighter with an intensity not seen outside of the fires of hell.
"I'll tell you who. One Rebel. One insignificant, no name rebel with a dilapidated fighter was able to get past a station's defense grid with was composed of a superlaser, over 22,000 turbolaser cannons and a compliment of 7,000 fighters. That same rebel was able to find the one flaw in your station and use it against us."
"My lord, it, it was only a small thermal exhaust port. I could not possibly have foreseen such a seemingly insignificant part of the design becoming such a problem." Lemelisk responds.
"I am not interested in your excuses you sniveling coward!" I announce, my voice filled with more venom than any deadly reptile. "I told you to account for any and all eventualities that could possibly create problems for us. You have failed at that task Lemelisk, and I do not tolerate failure." I press a different button on the right arm of my throne. "Time for dinner." I whisper. Holes in the floor inside the cage begin to open up, and one by one insects begin to fly up and into the cage.
Piranha beetles, such lovely specimens. Capable of devouring a rancor in a matter of hours, these 3 centimeter long carnivorous creatures are some of the deadliest insects in the known galaxy.
They haven't been fed today.
For a few moments they buzz lazily around the cage while Lemelisk cowers in the corner. And then, one flies forward and bites his hand. The rest of the swarm, smelling blood lunges as one towards Lemelisk. The feast commences. They rip and tear through flesh, burrowing into his skin as they eat their way to the center of his body. Blood spurts forth, covering the glass walls of the cage with oozing hot crimson. Globs of half chewed flesh fly forth, sliding slowly down the walls.
Apparently the sight of a man being consumed is too much for even a battle hardened soldier, as one of my Royal Guards flees from the room. The sound of him violently spewing his lunch against a nearby wall can be heard even above Lemelisk's agonized wails.
As I watch the Engineer being devoured I cannot help but think about the Death Star. So many resources and so much time wasted. The station's destruction has only emboldened the Rebels. The charred wreckage of the Death Star shall become another symbol for the Rebels to rally around. They think now that they actually have a chance at ending my rule. They are mistaken.
The idea of the Death Star is a sound one, had it not been for such an obvious design flaw. Its purpose, to deter dissent and display my power for all to see. It can work. It will work. It must work. I can make it work. The designers just need to be more careful this time around. I can still make my rule over the galaxy unshakable. This design flaw can be easily rectified. All is not yet lost. I can make this work. I will not back down. The rebels must be made to see my persistence. They must be made to know that there victory here is but a temporary setback. I will rebuild. I will regroup. I will reconquer. But I can't do it alone.
After about an hour Lemelisk's screams fade away, though the buzzing of his tormentors continues as they pick his carcass over to the bone. It is high time that I put my other long term project into the testing phase. Lemelisk will be an excellent test subject.
Pain…so much pain. One would think that such agony was not possible. But it is. They are crawling beneath my skin, chewing muscles and splitting tendons, devouring organs. THEY'RE IN MY EYES!
With a jolt I wake up in a sweat. For but the briefest of moments I believe that it was all just a horrific nightmare. But it wasn't a nightmare. THIS is the nightmare.
I'm on an operating table with nothing but a sheet to cover me.
"The process was a complete success my Lord, it lives." A cold monotone voice declares.
My head turns and I see a medical droid conferring with the Emperor. But then my eyes traverse the room, and I see that the droid, the Emperor and I are not alone. I see me, and I see another person, also me. And there is me! Dozens of me, all suspended in cloning vats.
"What is this?" I croak with a voice that seems hoarse from screaming. The Emperor knows my thoughts. I can keep no secrets from him.
"No Lemelisk, it was no dream. You really did die." He approaches and looks down at me upon the table, looking at me much like any scientist would observe a live specimen about to be dissected; detached curiosity.
"But, just before your well-deserved death Lemelisk I came to an epiphany. I still need your mind. I have plans Lemelisk, and you will help to bring my dreams into the world of reality. So, before you died I reached out," The Emperor lifts his hand and with a bony forefinger he points at my heart. His hand is so cold. "And took your soul. Don't look so surprised Lemelisk. I am the Emperor after all. All of creation caters to my will. Not even that which could be considered to be supernatural can hope to oppose my desires."
"What is they bidding Master?" I find myself saying automatically. I'm too afraid to really do anything about the situation except listen and obey.
"You will put right that which has gone wrong." The Emperor responds cryptically. He begins to turn away from me as he observes one of the clones, one of me, suspended in liquid. "You are a prototype Lemelisk." He continues. "Long have I searched for the means that would grant me the life everlasting. After many years of research I finally came across the means. Up until now though my theories were just that, theories. I needed a test subject to see if the process of spirit transference could be accomplished without negative side-affects. Thus far the results are encouraging."
This should be impossible. The rational side of my mind screams that this cannot be. It is scientifically impossible! And yet, I see with my own eyes that it is true. My senses do not lie to me. Perhaps science cannot explain everything after all. Or maybe this is a kind of science that has just not been uncovered yet. Whatever the reason I am alive. But before I can ponder the full ramifications of this miracle my train of thought is interrupted.
"I task you Bevel with the arduous process of designing and overseeing the construction of a second Death Star. Make no mistake. The Rebels must be sent a clear message. I will not back down against them, not now, and not ever. If they destroy that which is mine I will rebuild and I shall make them pay. Soon I will be truly invincible Bevel. I trust that you have learned the error of your ways." The Emperor says.
I look into those glowing yellow eyes and I see chaos. He is mad. He has always been mad. He believes with this, this resurrection technology (for lack of a better term) in one hand and the Death Star in another he shall be truly invincible. Godlike even. Such a spiteful creature, willing to go to such horrific lengths just to punish his enemies! But what can I do? I cannot oppose him. I dare not risk anything again. I dare not experience such pain. I suppose it is better to serve the devil you know. And so I say only this.
"I shall begin at once my lord."
"That's the spirit Lemelisk." The Emperor responds. He turns to leave, but as he passes through the doorway he turns back to look at me, a demented smile plastered on his face. "Make sure that your progress on the new station remains on schedule Lemelisk, I should hate to have to waste my time devising new ways to kill you."
With that he is gone. I look again to the cloning vats filled with clones of me. My future bodies. My heart is filled with despair. Something like this will happen again. He'll kill me again and again for his own sick amusement. There is no way out for me. I can't escape. I can't hide. I can't even kill myself to avoid the coming agony. He'll just bring me back.
The nightmare has begun.
Jepsie: I will definitely work on all of those recommendations in the future. Thank you very much.
Dark Kronus: This will be my next chapter. Thank you good sir for the recommendation. It is brilliant.
Chocolate Teapot: Glad you enjoyed this chapter.
No reviews from Ashla or Loteva this time around. That's kind of sad. Ah well, they'll come out of the woodwork eventually. For a very funny Palpatine reacts to the Death Star getting blown up video please go to Youtube and watch the Robot Chicken Video "The Emperor's phone call." It is funny.
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