Emperor Palpatine trudged the last few feet to his bedroom and stopped to glare at the captain of his Imperial Guard. "Watch carefully tonight, Captain, or there will be most unpleasant consequences."
"My life and strength are devoted to you, your Highness," the captain replied earnestly.
Palpatine nodded irritably and stumped into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a flick of the force.
He did not doubt that Royal Guards were entirely ready to lay down their lives for him, but truly that was not much of a comfort. He didn't care about their lives, he cared about his own, and if Darth Vader and Skywalker succeeded in sneaking up on him, it was unlikely his guards, however well trained, could stand against the Sith and his son.
Palpatine snarled under his breath and reached out, for the 898th time in the last weeks, along the Force bond between himself and his (former) apprentice. For the 898th time, he found the bond present but frozen. He could not follow it, he could not tug on it, he could not do anything with it except seethe ineffectually. Darth Vader had managed to hide himself very successfully somewhere.
If it was on the other side of the galaxy, that was all well and good. But given the former Anakin Skywalker's temperament, and his recent threats, it was all too likely that Vader was lurking in the Core somewhere, maybe even on Imperial Center somewhere!
In some ways, that seemed entirely impossible. He knew Vader very well. He had been developing the bond between them since Anakin Skywalker was a mere child of 9, recently freed from slavery, frightened, and missing his mama. The boy had been a gift handed over on a platinum platter to the secret Sith Lord.
It seemed impossible that Vader could actually be nearby. Surely the cyborg could not hide his presence if he came close to his (former) master. Surely not.
And yet ... and yet ... and yet.
Palpatine shot a nervous glance at the door before padding over to his bed, where he sat down and used the Force to pull off his boots. A moment later, his favorite fuzzy shaak slippers leaped from the closet and cavorted over to slide smoothly onto his aged, wrinkled feet.
Ah …
Ah …
Ah …
So comfy!
He threw himself on the bed, the best bed that money could buy, and leaned back against his pillow. He had always been good at the long game - indeed, it had taken literally decades to defeat the Jedi - but he did not much appreciate being on the other end of things. Vader was planning to strike and the Emperor did not appreciate waiting for the attack. When it came, and it would, he would destroy Vader and take the young Skywalker as his apprentice, as it was always meant to be.
Assuming the boy could be turned. The twin connection was a potential problem. On the one hand, Leia Organa would make a great Sith. On the other hand, Skywalker and Organa no doubt had an extremely powerful bond. One or the other would have to go. Maybe he should kill Skywalker and go after the girl …?
Well, he had his plans in place. The walls of his bedroom were impregnated with cortosis ore, which shorted out lightsabers, so Vader wouldn't be able to carve his way into his bedroom. Really, it was more likely the man/machine would attack him at the Empire Day festivities in four days, and Palpatine was ready for that. Very very very ready.
With a sigh, Palpatine focused on relaxing his various muscle groups. It had been a busy day of meetings and strategizing and terrorizing, but now he was safe in his bedroom.
A soft beep reminded him that it was time for his favorite TV show, The Galaxy's Next Supermodel. With a wave of a hand, he turned on the giant holoscreen and prepared to enjoy himself. It was the first episode of the new season, and he always appreciated this one the most as literally dozens of beings across the galaxy fought for the right to be the Galaxy's Next Supermodel!
The theme music began and Sheev Palpatine leaned back against his pile of pillows and relaxed happily. He was incredibly tired and needed his rest. For everyone's sake, he had better not be interrupted! Admittedly, murdering people was, in its own way, invigorating, but he would not appreciate it when there were eight-armed models sporting Ransome Quiltratz designs!
Forty minutes later, after two models had been thrown into a vat of eel flavored pudding for daring to wear lime green clothing, he was asleep.
Thirty minutes after that, he was dead.
/
Luke's quarters/cell
Executor
In orbit around Unknown Planet
Luke and Vader were in the midst of a hotly contested game of dejarik when a tidal wave in the Force engulfed them both. For Luke, it was like the clouds suddenly parting on a particularly nasty, rainy, windy day to reveal sunshine, blue skies, and sweetly chirping birds. For Vader, it felt like someone had just opened a drain and started sucked out his life essence.
"Are you Ok?" Luke demanded worriedly, leaning forward and gazing at his father, whose head was lolling slightly.
"Palpatine ... Palpatine...," the cyborg muttered.
Luke actually squealed slightly as his brain caught up with his feelings through the Force. "He's dead, isn't he?!"
"Yes..."
Luke frowned and reached out through the Force. Vader was definitely reeling internally from Palpatine's death, which seemed odd, but his father was odd.
"What's wrong?" he asked in concern. "Isn't this a good thing?"
The Sith reached out a shaky hand toward his son. "Of course it is, Luke. It is excellent, wonderful, and fantastic. I have been bonded to my master for more than twenty years, however, and thus the destruction of the bond is ... quite painful for me."
The young Jedi frowned worriedly. "Are you going to be Ok?"
"Yes. I merely need to recover, which may take some time."
"Maybe you should take a nap or something?"
Vader managed a slightly chuckle as he staggered to his feet. He waved an imperious finger at his male offspring. "I believe rest would be wise indeed, but I expect you to behave yourself. Do not attempt to escape while I am recovering."
"I won't leave you, Father," Luke said gravely, his sincerity ringing true in the Force.
/
Imperial Holonet Studio
Imperial Center
Eight hours later...
Relinka Spetzv faced the holocams, her face powdered white, her hair and garments black.
"Citizens of the Galaxy," she announced with an artistic tremble to her voice, "I have terrible, horrific news. Our brave and noble leader, Emperor Palpatine, died last night from undetermined causes. Imperial Vizier Sate Pestage has taken temporary control of the Empire, and urges all citizens to remain calm during this difficult and sorrowful time..."
/
Officers' Lounge
Executor
In orbit around some unknown planet somewhere
0200 shipboard time
"So how do you think Lord Vader did it, Firmus?" Maximillian Veers asked idly, taking a careful sip of Tradoshan ale.
Admiral Piett pinched his lips and shook his head. "I would not care to speculate, Max."
"Oh, come on," the general responded in a wheedling tone. "Sensible people are asleep, so it's just the two of us. I don't know why we are up at this ridiculous hour, but as long as we're not in bed, we might as well talk about it."
Piett rubbed his forehead with one weary hand. On the one hand, he was happy – no, he was ecstatic – that Palpatine was dead. He had been worried, briefly, that the reports of the Emperor's death had been some kind of trick, but several spies on Imperial Center had assured him that the reports were true. More than that, Darth Vader himself had informed him that the Emperor was dead.
It was amazing, incredible, and wonderful, but now the future was quite uncertain. Would Vader attempt to take the throne? Would the Skywalker twins, either of them, be willing to assist their Sith Father in such a task?
"I just don't get it," Veers continued, staring gravely into the amber liquid sloshing around in his cup. "Palpatine didn't live this long without knowing how to protect himself. How did Lord Vader manage to kill him from ... wherever we are?"
"We used carbon monoxide," a voice said cheerfully. The general and the admiral were on their feet in seconds, both with flaring eyes and blasters drawn.
"Skywalker!" Piett choked out. "What are you doing here?"
The Rebel Jedi smirked a little even as he raised his hands in a placating manner. "Take it easily, please. I have no intention of harming anyone."
"Why are you out of your ... quarters?" the admiral demanded, carefully changing the blaster setting from kill to stun.
"Prison cell, you mean," the youth replied, throwing himself haphazardly onto a nearby chair and gesturing toward the flask of Tradoshan ale, which obediently floated into his hand. "I mean, it is really nice, but I am locked in. I tried to sleep, but I am so excited about the Emperor being dead that I just couldn't. Father is totally asleep since he is worn out from the bond breaking, and so I decided to go for a little stroll."
The Jedi gestured slightly with one hand and both blasters flew from the Imperials' hands and onto a nearby couch. "Relax, both of you. I really don't intend to do anything nefarious."
Veers and Piett exchanged grim looks and then sat down. There was nothing they could do to contain Skywalker except keep him talking; hopefully, the boy's father would appear soon.
"What about your guards?" Piett asked, suddenly anxious.
"They're fine," Skywalker assured them, pouring himself a glass of ale. "Father is really smart, of course, but realistically, sticking with the same rotating group of guards wasn't the most sensible thing in the world. I've been around them all enough to figure out how to use Jedi mind control on them."
"What of the locks on the door?" Veers asked rather resentfully.
"Again, Father hasn't changed them and I figured out how to open them about eight days ago. I have a couple of friends who are experts at lockpicking and stuff like that, and I've taken a few lessons."
"Of course you have," Piett muttered, causing the prisoner to shoot him an amused glance.
"Carbon monoxide?" Veers asked.
"Yes, it is an odorless, tasteless gas that replaces oxygen in the bloodstream ..."
"I know what it is, Skywalker."
"Ok, well, Father found someone who knew all the secret passageways in the Imperial palace. So Vader arranged for a couple of Rebel agents to go to his own palace in Imperial City, and they were able to make a map about the ventilation systems and all that. Then they snuck through the passages and inserted mouse droids into the ventilation shafts near the Emperor's bedroom; the droids blocked off the shafts and then pumped carbon monoxide into the room after Palpatine fell asleep. And he died."
Piett blinked and shook his head. "Surely the air quality in the Emperor's chambers is constantly monitored."
"Yeah, sure, but one of our people was able to slice that as well to accept a high level of carbon monoxide in the air. Pretty brilliant, isn't it?"
"It's insane," Veers responded incredulously. "It is hard to believe it worked! The Emperor is – was - strong in the Force. How could he have failed...?"
"To sense it?" Luke Skywalker asked brightly. "Good question. The thing is, my father told me a lot about Palpatine. He was good at most things, great in many others, but not mechanically inclined. Vader and I are both brilliant with ships and mechanics, to the point that we can sense when something is off. Palpatine didn't have that gift, so I had the idea of my father making vague threats to make his former master think he'd show up and try to stick a lightsaber through his gut, and then to subtly sneak around in the background and poison him with CO gas."
Piett quivered slightly. "This was your idea, Skywalker?"
Skywalker's blue eyes glowed enthusiastically. "Yep, it was! Well, I know I'm keeping you up. Thanks for the chat and I think I can go to sleep now, so I'll be off."
Piett and Veers rose as one.
"We will escort you back," Veers informed his pseudo prisoner.
"Fine," Luke agreed with a sympathetic grin.