Relinka Spetzv's dressing room
Holonet News Studio Building
Imperial City
Imperial Center
Five days later
Relinka Spetzv, cohost of the galaxy's most popular Holonet show, stared with wide eyes at her make-up artist, Paz Marne.
"Do I look Ok, Paz?" she whispered fearfully.
Paz took a step back and inspected her work of art. Dark hair, dark clothing, white face, nearly black eyes. The latter was due to injection of dye into Relinka's usually green irises; the dye would fade with time, but on this, of all days, Paz could not afford to have a colored contact lens slip.
"You look wonderful, Relinka," Paz replied reassuringly.
Relinka stood up and turned toward the mirror to inspect herself. "I look like death warmed over," she said gloomily.
"Which is precisely the point," Paz insisted with fervor. "Now, go out there and look like your father just died, which he kind of did."
Relinka gulped convulsively and nodded before walking shakily out the door. She had only met Emperor Palpatine a few times in person, and he always gave her the shivers, but indeed, the entire galaxy was in mourning. Only five days ago, Emperor Palpatine had been assassinated in a vile attack. The only saving grace was that Lord Vader, who had been with him at the time, had survived the poisonous gas which was no doubt meant to take him down as well.
(She would not even let herself think about whether that was really a good thing. If Palpatine scared her, Vader made her want to wet her pants. Which she couldn't do, not right now.)
She stepped into Holonet Studio #1, which was swathed in black as if the room itself was in mourning. The new emperor had not yet arrived, and Relinka carefully made her way to her chair. Should she stand up and wait for Vader, or should she sit and then rise when he walked in?
She felt ready to faint. She would sit.
/
Liberty Star Cruiser
In orbit around Xyquine II
Luke Skywalker, destroyer of the Death Star and Jedi hopeful, looked around the meeting room and then hurried over to sit next to Leia Organa, who was saving a seat for him. Han Solo, captain and owner of the Millennium Falcon, sat on the other side of the princess of Alderaan, while Chewbacca, the mighty Wookiee copilot of the Falcon, stood propping a wall up nearby. The hairy sentient was so tall that he didn't fit in any of the chairs well.
The Liberty was a Mon Calamari cruiser and thus warmer and moister than was comfortable for most humans; Luke found it delightful; the heat reminded him pleasantly of home, and the humidity reminded him of not home. If he never visited another desert world, that would be fine with him.
The conference room was the largest on the ship and could comfortably seat at least 60 reasonably sized sentients; at least twice that number were crowded within, all eager to hear the latest news from Imperial Center.
There was a stir from the assembled Rebels as Mon Mothma, former Senator of Chandrila, acknowledged leader of the Rebel Alliance, stepped to the front of the room flanked by General Dodonna and General Madine. All three looked serious, as well they might.
"Good afternoon," Mon Mothma said, her blue eyes scanning the room. "We have just completed downloading information from our spies on Imperial Center, and have confirmed the rumors emanating from the capital these last few days. As entirely impossible as it seems, Emperor Palpatine is dead."
There was a soft murmur, followed by a loud buzz, which led to a roar, which ended in a cacophony of shouting, laughing, and even yodeling from the excited Rebels. Luke Skywalker found himself hugging Leia fiercely, while Chewbacca beat him cheerfully on the shoulder with one furry paw. Han Solo, who believed in being prepared, pulled out a bottle of Tevraki whiskey, only to have Leia frown at him fiercely and snatch the bottle as Mon Mothma, displaying a heretofore unknown ability, whistled so fiercely that everyone fell instantly silent with shock.
"This is indeed wonderful news," Mon Mothma said, "but the war is far from over. Everyone, sit down immediately and be quiet!"
Everyone sat down and was silent except for Wedge Antilles, who was braver than most.
"Do we know how Palpatine died?" he asked.
"The reports from our spies indicate that he was killed when someone, yet unknown, flooded the Throne Room with iocanious gas," Mon Mothma said.
"What's that?" Derek (Hobbie) Klivian, a pilot in Rogue Squadron, demanded.
"It is an odorless, tasteless gas that kills within seconds," Dodonna explained. "We do not yet know who was responsible, but it was most effective."
"I suppose it was too much to hope that Vader would be in the Throne Room at the time," Han Solo grumbled.
"Apparently he was," Madine commented gloomily, "but that blasted suit of his presumably saved him. All the Royal Guards were poisoned as well, but Vader survived, most regrettably."
"But who did the actual poisoning?" a random female voice called out.
"We do not know," Mon Mothma said, "but the Alliance is being blamed. Of course, we would have attempted to assassinate him any way we could, but as a matter of fact, we were not behind this event."
"I assume that Darth Vader will ascend to the throne?" Leia asked in a carefully controlled tone. Luke reached out a comforting hand to her, and she grabbed it, obviously needing to ground herself. Darth Vader had tortured her for hours attempting to determine the location of the Rebel base, and when that failed, had held her back in the Death Star's control room when the superlaser destroyed her home world of Alderaan.
Leia Organa hated Darth Vader.
"Yes," Mon Mothma replied softly, her sympathetic gaze resting on the last princess of Alderaan. "Our reports are that he was crowned in a private ceremony only last night."
The door slid open abruptly, and Mon Mothma's personal aide rushed into the room.
"Excuse me!" she squeaked, "but Vader is making an announcement on the Live Holonet right now!"
/
Holonet Studio #1
Darth Vader, newly crowned Emperor of the known galaxy, stalked into the Holonet studio and glanced around quickly.
The room's minimal décor was appropriately dark and severe, with gray drapes across a fake window and dark chairs. A throne had been placed front and center, which Vader was happy about; not that he needed a throne, exactly, but it looked sturdy, and many chairs wouldn't adequately support his weight.
The two Holonet hosts were bowing meekly before him. Relinka Spetzv, who was famous for her changing hair colors, was dark haired, dark eyed, pale faced, and swathed in black, as was her cohost, Cray Shifton. They were terrified of him, of course; he felt their fear in the Force, and while usually that would give him a jolt of Dark Side power, mostly he felt bored right now. He had a job to do, and unlike Palpatine, didn't get off on people bowing to him.
"Rise and sit," he ordered, and strode over to the throne. A brief inspection with the Force indicated that it was mechanically sturdy, and he lowered himself into it.
When he looked up, both his co-hosts were also seated, their faces set in some semblance of professional calm.
"Your Highness, Emperor Vader," Relinka Spetzv said earnestly, "may I take this opportunity to express my sympathies? We are all of us, every being in the galaxy, broken hearted over the death of the former Emperor, and you, as his former second in command, must be the most grieved of all."
"I am not distressed in the least," Vader rumbled calmly. "I am absolutely delighted that Palpatine is dead. In fact, I sort of killed him."
The two hosts stared at him open mouthed and wide eyed.
"You ... sort of killed him?" Relinka repeated faintly.
"Yes, but only sort of. I have a droid, you see, a med droid, whom I have altered in the years of my service to the Empire. I expressed my desire to see the Emperor killed some months ago while also admitting I did not know how to carry out the deed. B8 sensibly introduced iocaneous gas into my tertiary oxygen support system and then released the gas when I was in close proximity to the Emperor. I was, of course, protected by my helmet whereas Palpatine took a few puffs and fell dead on the floor. It was, at the time, a tremendous surprise."
Relinka Spetzv was actually drooling in confusion now but Cray Shifton, apparently made of sterner stuff, actually objected.
"Your Highness, how could that happen? Droids are made to serve, are they not? They do not ... they do not decide to murder a sitting Emperor without direct orders!"
Vader tilted his helmet and tapped the prosthetic digits of his right hand on the arm of the throne. "Most droids do not. Most. I have a remarkable ability with droids, you see, and always have. Even in my former life, I managed to build or alter droids who had unique personalities and even, on occasion, made their own decisions. R2, 3PO - both were most unusual droids who served me at one time or another. In any case, there is no particular point in arguing. The former Emperor is dead, and I have ascended the throne. The reason I am here today is not because I enjoy speaking to talk show hosts. I have an announcement to make."
Relinka glanced at Cray, whose forehead was creased even through his studio makeup. She knew that her cohost enjoyed tinkering with droids in his off hours, and had no doubt he was contemplating droids who randomly decided to become assassins. It seemed she would need to handle the next, no doubt galaxy shattering, conversation.
"Yes, your Highness? What is your announcement?" she said with only the slightest quaver in her voice.
"I have a son," the Sith Lord proclaimed, and then repeated, softly, reverently, "I have a son."