Part 38: Enough.
Fingernails cut into skin as the mind commanded the fist to squeeze itself even tighter. Across the room a throat struggled to survive as its supporting skeletal structure was crushed very very slowly into thousands of minuscule pieces. The odds of drawing another breath however were soon rendered impossible. Body and soul surrendered to the illusory light which beckoned them into the Force.
Supreme Emperor Palpatine watched the body fall to the permacrete without uttering a word. Not even the simple pleasure of choking a being to death quelled his frustration now. The punishment of a subordinate usually fell to a Sith Lord's apprentice, but the trouble was that he had no apprentice. He lost his apprentice nine years ago. An apprentice in whom he spent over a decade of manipulation and seduction upon to ensure that his full to the dark side would last a lifetime.
One cannot wait for the dark side to simply take hold of a being. Especially if said being has lived under the influence of the Jedi Order as Anakin had, albeit from the age of nine. A Sith Lord had to nurture the darkness inside the being, stoke the fire of negative emotions, of doubts, insecurities, and fears, until the animal within breaks free of its Force restraints, takes over the rationale and rules that apprentice unchallenged. Only then is the conversion permanent, the anger and fear unending.
Palpatine had converted Jedi into Sith before, he even turned those Force sensitive beings undiscovered by the Order to the dark side. But never had he experienced the satisfaction he felt with Anakin's conversion. Never did the transformation feel so sweet or his pleasure so complete. In one moment he achieved all he worked so hard to gain; the end of the Republic, the end of the Jedi, and the end of the Chosen One.
Then he made a fatal mistake. One order which changed everything he planned to unfold in the future of his new Empire. He sent Vader to Mustafar to deal with the Separatist leaders. In hindsight this was the equivalent of sending a Rancor after a Twi'lek; too much of a superior force against defenceless, cowardly beings. A squadron of clones could have easily despatched the Separatist leaders, he had not needed to send Vader to do so.
But he did. He grew complacent and overconfident in his moment of glory, and in that moment, he lost sight of the possibilities. Of two Jedi surviving their assassin squads. In sending Vader to Mustafar, he failed to realise that the Jedi might endure to face them both.
And kill either of them.
Obi-Wan Kenobi. Yoda. The two names haunted his mind even now, when he had heard no trace of them for nine years. Yoda, the little annoying troll, he could dismiss easily from his thoughts, usually in the simple action of choking a lackey to death, but the name of the other Jedi was a source of anger which nothing could diminish. For he was the cause of the nine year absence of an apprentice by his side. He left Darth Vader to burn to death on the shores of a lava river. If he had not felt so strongly for the boy he spent a decade and more training, Palpatine would have pondered the possibility of turning to the Jedi Master who resisted a merciful end for his fallen apprentice.
That would have been an interesting prospect. But Kenobi was too firmly entrenched within the Light, even then when he turned and walked away from his fallen apprentice. Even when he died, Palpatine could feel the light side of the Force beckoning Kenobi to come and rest in peace within its torrid goodness. By the time he calmed down to contemplate the possibility of training him, death took the last Jedi away.
Well, that was not quite true, Palpatine reflected, as he turned his Force aided gaze on the signatures walking past his office. There were still Force sensitive beings in the world, including one trained by a Jedi, albeit for just the first years of their life. One such fine specimen was walking past his office walls at this very moment.
In a flash of movement which belied his general aged appearance, the Emperor rose from his throne and walked towards the double door entrance of his office. He exited the room in time to cause the two figures to come to a halt, ensuring that a necessary exchange of civilities took place.
"Your Majesty," they chorused, bowing slightly.
"Senator Amidala, Miss Naberrie," Palpatine returned. "What a pleasant surprise it is to run into the two of you. I was just thinking of getting myself a late supper, and I would dearly love you both to join me."
"Thank you, Your Majesty, but perhaps another time," Senator Amidala replied. "We have had a long day and my handmaiden has laid out a quiet meal for us at our residence."
"Are you sure?" Palpatine persisted. "Young Miss Naberrie would appreciate the sights of the capital at night."
"I agree, Coruscant by night is beautiful," Miss Naberrie answered. "But I have been working very hard, Your Majesty, as has my mother, and I beg you to excuse us."
"Of course," Palpatine replied, his face broken by a smile. Inside his mood was anything but serene. He watched the two women walk further down the corridor with something approaching a growling sigh, yet the sound did not escape his mouth. Another attempt to begin the process of recruitment only to be rebuffed once more. He was growing tired of Cordé Amidala Naberrie's excuses. If her mother was not such a powerful aide in the Senate, he would have taken the girl by force long ago. Seducing Kenobi's daughter to the dark side would be the ultimate revenge.
Yet he could not achieve it.
Perhaps that was why he found the substitute wanting, even though they did everything asked of them. By a startling coincidence, the being was nine years old, the same age Anakin was when he first made his acquaintance. There was all the challenge of seduction and manipulation, a chance to feed the ego and betray the parents, with the added nostalgia of symmetry. But that nostalgia tore at his heart, for it only served to remind him of what he had lost at the hands of Kenobi.
He watched Senator Amidala and her daughter turn the corner, disappearing from his sight. A part of him still wondered why both stopped using the Kenobi name a year or so after the Master's funeral on Naboo. The reasons Senator Amidala gave at the time were perfectly sound and logical; she wanted to ease her daughter's sufferings until she was old enough to deal with the way her father died, that Amidala was memorable for the Blockade Crisis, and therefore his own rise to the throne, the beginning of the Empire. But still he wondered if perhaps they thought such public use of the name would torture him as the memory of it did.
No matter, now. Palpatine took a breath and turned in the other direction, heading for his private hanger bay. His thoughts turned to the other nine years old project that was constantly failing as well. The reason he choked a being to death in his office just now. A project few knew about except himself and, in his personal opinion, a rather less than dedicated team of engineers.
It was conceived on the eve of the Clone Wars after the battle of Geonosis, although construction did not begin until he established his Empire three years later. One of those talented engineers handed the plans for the project to his apprentice at the time, who handed them to him after he barely escaped with his life from a duel with Kenobi, Yoda and his future, albeit brief, apprentice. Sending Dooku to his death was a lot easier after that event, though in hindsight it would have been better to keep the man alive just in case Vader was killed on a volcanic planet. But that was the past, only the present could occupy him now, and that present was the latest trouble with the three dimensional result of those plans Dooku handed him twelve years ago.
The Death Star. Even the name sang with Sithly satisfaction in Palpatine's mind, providing he could ignore the countless data pads piling up in upon the desk in his office, full of systematic failures. One by one they cropped up, no matter how many he assigned to conquer the problem, or how many he punished as an example to the rest. It was almost as if the little moon did not want to be finished, which of course, it wasn't going to be, if the failures continued to occur.
He was just thankful that news of the latest one was not given to him in the midst of a Senate session. He had no desire to loose another representative from that body of politicians, however symbolic he may have rendered them lately. If he wasn't so sure that none of the Senators knew of his project, he would have suspected most of them to be laughing at him now, except when his temper got the best of him and decided to kill a member of their body.
Clearly, this project now required his personal attention, and that meant leaving Coruscant for a time. A message would be sent to Senator Amidala in the morning for her to take over some of his usual duties. Not executive powers, but the usual meetings and paperwork that took up his office days. Meanwhile he would travel to the shipyards where the space station was resisting construction, and see the extent of the damage for himself.
He was also going to take with him his substitute, his apprentice in all but name for no one would take what was to have been Vader's role within his Empire. Nine was a young age to learn the ways of the Sith, but the being was a bright and willing child and it was time he recognised that potential.
Palpatine halted in his walk mid way down the corridor, outside one of the many Senatorial offices which lined his route. Raising his hand to press the panel beside the door, the long ebony-coloured cloak fell from his wrist to reveal the wrinkled skin caused by his last but one lightsaber duel all those years ago.
The panel turned green and the doors slid back, granting him admittance. He stepped inside, his careful yellow eyes taking in every particle of the room, from the elegant decor to the young receptionist who jumped rapidly from her chair as she realised who was visiting her Senator's offices.
"Your Majesty, this is an unexpected pleasure," she murmured in a lyrically light tone, brimful of so much sickly goodness Palpatine almost stumbled in the face of it. "The Senator will be happy to see you, I'm sure."
"Thank you," Palpatine remarked. "What is your name, young one? I don't believe I have seen you serving the Senator before."
"Ahsoka Tano, Your Majesty."
"Honoured to meet you, Mistress Tano," Palpatine inclined his head deferentially and was just about to exchange further civilities, when the door of the inner office slid open and the Senator entered the room.
"Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to see you," the Senator remarked after performing a small bow. "How can I be of service to you at this late hour?"
"I was about to take a journey to one of the shipyards, Senator Organa," Palpatine replied. "And I was wondering if your eldest would like to accompany me. You mentioned sometime ago that she has expressed an interest in flying."
"Why, thank you, Your Majesty," Bail replied. "As luck would have it, she and her sister are with me now, I was just showing them the duties of a Senator." He turned his head and called them out. "Mara, Noémié, come here, please."
The two girls rose from their chairs and exited the room. Their father stood aside to let them pass and take their bows before the Emperor, who regarded them with deceptively concealed curiosity.
"Mara," Bail continued, "the Emperor has asked if you would like to accompany him on a journey to the shipyards. Would you?"
"I would like that, father, if I may," Mara replied.
"Then it is settled," Palpatine decided, smiling at the young woman. "I shall meet you at the hanger, young one."
He bowed before exiting the room, continuing on to his private dock with an decidedly evil smile upon his face.
Inside the office for the Senator from Alderaan, there was a moment of silence, as the four beings within waited for the last traces of the Emperor's evil signature to fade from their notice. At Ahsoka's signal, the surveillance devices were switched off, along with the timer to erase all traces of the following conversation.
Bail turned immediately to his eldest. "Mara, are you sure you are ready for this?"
"I am, father," Mara replied. "Master Yoda warned me during our last visit that this was coming. He has done all he can to prepare me. The rest lies in the will of the Force."
"In that case, I hope it is with us, my child," Bail remarked. "And not with that Sith ridden being who will be by your side from now on."
He drew his daughters into an embrace, thankful for the day Breha told him she was quickening once more, thankful for the moment the med-droid placed them in his arms. It was not until his dinner with the Kenobis that he and Breha learned of their children's extraordinary gift in the Force, and grew to be wary of the Emperor detecting such potential. It had taken nine years of training under Master Yoda to lead them to this planned moment, but even now, Bail still feared for the safety of his fearless red hair eldest, knowing what happened to the last nine year old who had the misfortune to meet with Palpatine.
Senator Organa held his girls tightly, and prayed the same fate would not fall upon them, for so much more depended upon the success of their plans.
The fate of restoring the Republic.