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Chapter Two:
Emperor Palpatine sat in his throne on Imperial Center, fuming. The loss of a second Death Star was a sore blow not only to the Empire's military strength but also to morale. The loss of Darth Vader would be a huge blow as well, but no one was going to know the particulars of that event. Vader…the traitor. No, that information would rest entirely with Palpatine…and some of it with the assassin who would kill Vader for his betrayal.
A nervous mind entering the throne room interrupted Palpatine's thoughts. The man who entered was small, whipcord-thin, with narrow eyes in a narrow, ratlike face.
"Ah, Fenir Semlik, is it not?" Palpatine greeted him.
"That is my name, m'Lord Emperor."
"You are, if I am not mistaken, the most talented member of the School of Assassins. You graduated from the training program with honors, and you have over two dozen successful assassinations to your credit, with no detections and no failures. Is my information correct?"
"Yes, m'Lord Emperor. I am considered the best available assassin."
"That is good, because I have a most challenging mark for you. This is of great importance to the Empire. No one must know about this job. You will proceed straight—straight, mind!—to the location of this target. You will engage in no unnecessary communication, and you will not breathe a word of this to anyone. If anyone discovers whom you have been sent to kill, even after he is dead, you and your family will suffer. If you are successful, you will never have to worry about money again, such will be my reward."
"I understand fully, m'Lord Emperor. I will not allow anyone, not even my superiors at the School of Assassins, to discover the identity of the mark."
"Good. You are to be sent to kill Darth Vader."
Blood drained from the man's face. "K-k-kill the Dark Lord?" he stammered. "But…but that is said to be impossible! His powers—"
"—Are why I have contacted you! You are said to be the best, Selik! Are you worth the extravagant fee I am paying you, or should I seek my assassin elsewhere?"
"No, m'Lord Emperor. I will fulfill the contract. I was simply…taken aback by the identity of the mark."
"Well, do not be taken aback when you go to kill him. His death need not be fast, mind, but he must die."
"Understood."
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Luke and Anakin met with Mon Mothma in an atmosphere room to discuss Alliance High Command's decision regarding the former Sith. Anakin had offered to aid the Alliance cause, with his knowledge not only of troop locations, which were subject to change, but personal knowledge of the high commanders in the Empire, and the existence of the hardwired codes that had been set up for him as Palpatine's lieutenant. High Command had stewed about this for a month, but had finally made a decision.
"Mr. Skywalker," Mon Mothma looked Anakin in the eye. She had requested this meeting take place in the atmosphere room because she had wanted to be able to see his face. Talking to him when he wore the mask made her deeply uncomfortable, and Anakin had confessed he preferred being without it. "Mr. Skywalker, Alliance High Command has reached a decision regarding your future. Your son," she nodded towards Luke, "has argued very fluently and very strongly that you have indeed abandoned Imperial values, and that you have rejected the teachings of the Sith Order. Many members of High Command remain unconvinced of your change of heart…" she trailed off, watching the faces of the two. Luke looked nervous, fearing that her next words would be a sentence of death; Anakin looked calm, as though the outcome meant little to him. She took a deep breath and continued, "but the majority either are convinced you should be treated as another defector, or believe what you have offered us by way of access to Imperial data outweighs what you have done in the past. You will be offered an informal position in the Alliance as an advisor…with a few conditions. First, you will never go by the name of Vader again. Second, any officer at any time has the power to place you under armed guard or house arrest. Third, you will obey any orders given by any Alliance officer."
"I see no problems with any of High Command's conditions," Anakin said smoothly.
Mon Mothma nodded to him. "One other thing, one which I do not consider a condition, per se, but more of a request. High Command is aware of the attempts you two are making to... ah… repair the injuries that make this atmosphere room a necessity. We would request that you not take any position until you have no longer any need to wear the mask," she waved a hand towards where the removed mask sat in a corner, "as it is a symbol for many people of the Empire. The medical staff here are to give you whatever assistance you require."
Anakin took a deep breath. "Medics will not be able to help with my respiratory damage. That avenue was investigated and found useless years ago. However, there are other… matters in which their assistance would be invaluable." He smiled at Mon Mothma. "Please convey my gratitude to High Command, and tell them that I look forward to being able to aid the battle against the Empire."
Luke had been silent through this conversation, simply listening, and thanking the Force and any existing deities that had granted his father life. But as Anakin thanked Mon Mothma, Luke started to feel a vague unease in the back of his mind. The feeling became stronger and stronger…
And blaster fire raked out across the room.
Anakin's reflexes made him sweep an arm across his son's chest, knocking Luke to the floor before the fiery bolts could strike the young Jedi. Mothma gasped as bolts struck Anakin, two in his arm and one on his face. Struck… and were absorbed neatly into his skin, leaving faint red marks to show they had existed.
Anakin flung one arm out, and Mon Mothma's eyes widened as a blaster came flying seemingly out of the wall. "A hologram," Luke gasped.
Anakin moved forward, as more bolts, of a noticeably different caliber, came from the hologram. He Absorbed them all, and reached in behind the hologram, dragging out a whipcord-thin man with an odd, twisted symbol on his collar.
"A Master from the School of Assassins," Anakin said. The man's eyes were wide, terrified. He couldn't move a muscle, and his terror was evident even to Force-less Mon Mothma.
Anakin paused, holding the man, and glanced at her. "What shall we do with him?"
Mon Mothma said, "I'll call Security." She pulled a comlink out of her pocked, and spoke into it for a few seconds. "They're on their way," she said.
A few moments later, three armed Alliance Security officers entered the room, and took the assassin from Anakin's grip. "He's a Master Assassin," Anakin warned them. "Be careful."
One of them nodded to him, and they departed with their prisoner.
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