Author: JGuy
Summary: An alternative to the Star Wars universe
Disclaimers: I don't own Star Wars. I wish I did, but I don't. Thus, according to copyright laws as I understand it, if I make any money off of this, George Lucas can sue me for a million jillion dollars. But I'm NOT making any money, so THERE! I will, however, gladly accept any donations any of you would like to give…
DARK MIRROR
PART I
Palpatine entered Naboo a happy man. Even though his Apprentice, Darth Maul, had just been defeated by a mere Padawan (a disgrace he did not care to remember), he had received his ultimate goal: Supreme Chancellorship. With this position, he could do away with the pathetic Republic and begin construction of an Empire, where he would sit on the Throne as the Master of All the Galaxy. Palpatine liked the sound of that. And he would bear the title soon enough.
Things seemed to be going well. The Trade Federation had successfully conquered Naboo, and the Queen was now a prisoner of war. Still, this really wasn't very important; it had all been a feint to instigate his election to Supreme Chancellor. He had panicked at first with the Queen's increasingly unexpected actions, but clever maneuvering on his part simply allowed him to get his title even more quickly. The Treaty that granted Federation control really wasn't all that necessary, but having a planet under your control never hurt.
One small matter needed amending, however: he had no Apprentice. According to the guidelines set by Darth Bane (the one being Palpatine truly respected), there had to be two Sith at all times. There was only one now. Where would he find one? Finding Maul had been difficult enough as it was. But something inside of him told him that he would find a new Apprentice. No… not inside him… in the Dark Side itself. Palpatine felt a tingling sensation course through every cell in his body. He could tell he was on the verge of something far greater than even he had imagined. And he would rule, he knew it!
And the Jedi would never know until it was too late. Far, far too late.
Obi-Wan Kenobi stood before the his former master. "And now, with a difficult decision am I faced," said the ancient Master. Obi-Wan stayed silent. He still mourned the death of Qui-Gonn. He wished he had not been so harsh with his Master about the boy, Skywalker. What faith the Knight had had in him at first glance! It had taken virtually every pursuasive tactic he knew to convince his Master that the boy was dangerous. He was dangerous, Obi-Wan was sure of it! Qui-Gonn somehow wasn't, but in the end he had relented. So young Skywalker had remained on Coruscant while the Queen and the two Jedi Knights returned to Naboo. Still, the decision had saddened the old Jedi, and Obi-Wan almost felt sorry.
Now he did feel sorry. One of the last memories Qui-Gonn must have had was of Obi-Wan crushing a dream he'd created for himself. Obi-Wan wished Qui-Gonn could have had a happier thought about his Padawan before he died.
Before his thoughts could lead him any farther, Yoda continued, "Ready for the Trials are you? Hm? Ready for a Padawan? Or still a Padawan yourself are you?" Yoda sighed. "Long have I watched you, Obi-Wan. Train you I did. But I knew that only trouble could come from Qui-Gonn."
"Just because he didn't follow the strict code doesn't mean he wasn't a great Jedi Knight," retorted Obi-Wan angrily.
Yoda sighed again. "Great Jedi Knight? Yes. Instructor?" Yoda shook his head. "Pass along to their Padawans their own personal styles instructors do. Unique was Qui-Gonn's style, part of his personality it was. Could he teach it to a reckless young apprentice?" Obi-Wan bowed his head very low, but Yoda backed off. "I am sorry. Upset am I. The Force does not flow the way it should. Something beyond any of our powers' has happened, I fear, and I do not even know what it is."
"We killed a Sith," said Obi-Wan. "Could it be his presence…?"
"No. Not his. His companion's, maybe. The Master or the Apprentice was he? If he was a Master, than we may have a chance to find and defeat his pupil. But what if the Master the other is? Could we find him? And planning what is he?" It seemd to Obi-Wan that his master had aged over a century since the Jedi had started training him, and he seemed to lean on his cane more than ususal. Obi-Wan could sense that something was wrong, too. It was almost as if the Force was a song, but it had switched from a magnificent symphony to a single, somber note.
"But side-tracked have we become. Are you still a Padawan?"
"I have been one for some time," offered Obi-Wan.
"Think you ready, do you? This do all the young ones say. And the ready ones." Yoda turned back towards Obi-Wan. "The Council today voted for you to bear the title of Jedi Knight. Still veto can I, but…" Yoda closed his eyes. "A Jedi you are." He opened his eyes again and looked to the ceiling. "Ready for the Sith are you?"
"Are you?" Obi-Wan asked.
Yoda faced his former trainee square in the eye. "No. Ready is no one. Except the Sith. Yes. The Sith are prepared." Yoda sighed one last time.
Darian Modu was so sick of his homeworld that it almost hurt.
An insignificant planet in the middle of an insignificant solar system, Iunist had never left any mark on history, and at its present rate, never would. It was primarily a trading world, and had produced several billionaires in its time. And each and every one of them moved away once they did, Darian couldn't help but remembering.
His mother was a middle manager in a machine-part manufacturing company, but her money always seemed to disappear before anyone else (including the landlord) ever saw it. Darian was tired of living in the most run-down places his mother could possibly find, and then having to move out afte three months because no one ever paid the money. Darian had offered on several occasions to pitch in, just because he didn't want to move again, only to have his offer refused. Darian had learned long ago that it was much more worth it just to keep everything he owned in boxes. No unpacking or repacking required.
Darian often thought of escape. Darian had made an acquaintance or two at a local docking bay, and he had asked many questions on procedures and security measures. Darian felt confident he could get past them and stow away on a ship if he wanted to. He had even planned out the route: there was a trading ship that regularly came from the planet Shornak and left for Naboo. Darian had gotten a little scared when he heard some trade embargo had occurred, and then a war; how was he supposed to get off this miserable planet then? His escape route had sort have been a nice dream until it was cut off. Now all he could think about was his lost opportunity, and every moment he stayed on Iunist was more painful than the last.
When Darian returned home from the grocery store, he found his mother waiting for him. "You're home early," he noted.
Talia looked at her ten-year-old son. "My boss was a little nice to me today," she said smiling, ruffling Darian's brown hair. "Besides the day off, he gave me…" And she pulled out a bonus.
Darian's blue eyes opened wide. Before his brain could veto the act, he cried, "Are you going to pay the rent with it?"
Talia almost laughed. "Pay the rent? With a bonus? Are you crazy? I can do that with my regular paycheck." Darian nodded dumbly. Of course you can, he thought bitterly. Do you want to move again?
His mother took out a few items from the grocery bags and started cooking for an early dinner, and Darian went back to his room. His dusty, dingy little room that wouldn't be his for very long. He was so sick of this word! Darian was starting to get angry, because it was the one emotion left to him. He was angry at his mother, at this world, at the galaxy for not being fair. What had he ever done? He was even starting to get mad at the galaxy itself. It deserved to be punished for what it had done to him! It did!
Several hours and one dinner later, he couldn't stand his own room any longer. He grabbed a key and stormed out of the house, mumbling a "Mom, I'm going out," on his way out. He didn't bother to wait for a response. Iunist's single sun was setting, and the air was starting to get a little chilly. He never minded the cold, and he even kind of liked it. There was something comforting in it. The feeling always seemed vaguely familiar, though he could never quite pin down what he associated it with. Darian looked up towards the ever-blackening sky and picked out a few stars. These stars always came out first, and if you looked at them in just the right frame of mind, it looked kind of like a bird in flight. It always seemed to him like the bird had a kind of majestic power behind it, like it owned everything that it saw. He had named it Kellist, though he didn't know why; it just seemed right to him.
A few minutes later he reached the docking bay. "Hey, Modu!" someone called.
"Telnt! What are you doing here?!" Darian yelled back happily. Rees Telnt was one of the pilots that flew Darian's escape ship! He hadn't seen him since the trade embargo!
"You haven't heard? The war ended! I'm coming back to insult your diminutive size!"
Darian was too happy to come up with a retort. He didn't particularly like Telnt; the important thing was that his escape route had suddenly reopened. He could be free again! And with the mere possibility of escape once again possible, Darian decided that he would do it. He rambled through a conversation with Telnt, and somewhere in the middle he asked nonchalantly, "So you're leaving at the normal time, right?"
"Oh, yeah," Telnt said simply. Then Telnt took their talk down another path, and by the end, Telnt did not even remember that little Modu had ever asked that question, which was fine for Darian.
That night, Darian took one box and packed it with everything he needed to take with him. It was a small box. He wore all black clothes (his logical mind said that he wore them so he would remain fairly invisible, but something deeper inside him insisted that there was another reason, though he didn't quite know what it was), and he combed his hair straight back. About an hour before Telnt took off, Darian grabbed his box and crept toward the door. Before he left, he put his box down and took one last look at what he had called, if not home, than at least a resting place. It was something he always did before he moved. He took a little longer this time, since it would be the last residence he would ever be in on Iunist. He ended his little tour at his mother's bedroom. Talia Modu slept soundly in her dirty little bed. No one slept next to her. Darian had never known his father, and Talia never referred to him, ever. He had asked her once, against his own better judgment, and was immediately told never to ask that question again. Despite all there was to despise about her, Darian found that he didn't want to leave her. She had raised him and loved him, after all.
Darian went back into his room, rifled through one of his boxes and pulled out a necklace he had bought once. He had thought it had a strange sort of beuty to it. On it hung a purlpish rock that looked vaguely like Kellist. He had been walking along a road with his mother, and a street peddlar was selling various items. When the necklace caught Darian's eye, he pointed it out to his mother. She didn't seem to find the beuty that Darian did, and she was always opposed to his purchasing things that didn't help them directly (although she always seemed to attain nice things for herself, and the rent never got paid…). Still, he begged her just enough to buy it for him. Now Darian took it and draped it over Talia's neck. He took her hand, squeezed it once, and left her, the room, the apartment, and about an hour later, the entire system.
Darian, of course, couldn't see where they were going; he was hiding in the cargo bay. But if he had been in the cockpit, he would have noticed that the star they were pointed at—the Naboo system—was the exact same star that created his personal constellation's eye.
Palpatine stared into the fire that engulfed Qui-Gonn Jinn, a victim of the late Lord Maul. He truly couldn't stand this ceremony that dared to actually honor a Jedi. Maul would have been appalled if he were alive. Burn slowly, Jedi, thought Palpatine.
Members of the Jedi Council itself had come to this world for the funeral. And not one of them could sense him! One of Palpatine's most prized Dark Side abilities was the capacity to remain hidden even when searched for. The day was coming when he did not have to hide, but until that day came he would remain invisible to all but a chosen few. The only person who even knew that Palpatine and Sidious were one and the same was Maul, and he was dead. So who was to be let in on his little secret now? Palpatine sighed internally. And he wondered at himself. Why was he this nervous? It was an important matter, to be sure, but like all important matters it should be approached with a calm, calculating, and patient attitude. Why all this jitteriness?
He couldn't calm himself down with rage, not here. Even the most skilled Sith couldn't conceal that with the most trained Jedi in the galaxy standing scant few meters from him. Palpatine simply took a deep breath and tried to look mournful. He realized he would have to continue to look that way; the compassionate Supreme Chancellor Palpatine from Naboo would surely be angered at foreign occupation. He had meant to use that simulated anger and Chancellor Valorum's inefficiency as the tool to his power; now he wasn't quite sure what to do. Perhaps attack the Trade Federation as a sign of strength and renewed efficiency in the Republic, brought about by his leadership? It might gain him some supporters in the Senate, until he could do away with them…
Them, and their damned bureaucracy with them! Palpatine thought angrily to himself as his aide prattled on. He had returned to his room, intending to have a moment of relaxation and possibly meditate in the Force for a moment, but this aide whom he hadn't even selected started pestering him the moment he came in the door! Maybe this won't be as easy as I thought, Palpatine mused drearily.
"…shipping privelages to and from this world could change dramatically, should the Trade Federation impose a Ruling Tax on the planet," the aide was saying.
"What does it matter what the Trading Federation does on my world?" Palpatine barked angrily. At the last moment, he had managed to make it sound as if the anger was directed at his native people's defeat, not impatience with this aide.
"As I said," the aide said, barely staving off irritation at having to repeat himself, "other worlds may complain about it, and then a precedent for other worlds to complain about other matters might be set."
"It is a small matter, for now," said Palpatine. "I intend to make sure that the Federation does not stay in control of this world for long." I have to look like I'm angry at this, Palpatine reminded himself. But that treaty will ensure that neither I nor anyone else can contest their rule here legally. One planet down, several million to go.
The aide nodded nonchalantly. "Speaking of trading, the first trading ship to enter this system since the embargo should be arriving soon. It may look good for you to be present at it's arrival."
"Why should I care about a single trading ship?"
Again hiding his exasperation, the aide replied, "It would make a good PR story. It makes you look like someone who cares about every single citizen in the Republic. You know, show that under your administration, the universe can return to normal even after a war—"
"I could deduce what you were saying, thank you," Palpatine snapped. He had half a mind to order Maul to exterminate this thing—until he remembered that Maul was dead. Curse that Jedi and all he stands for from now until eternity! he screamed in his mind.
"Moving on," the aide continued relentlessly, "the Organic-Only Organization is already making petitions outlawing droid armies. The Triple-O will probably start with typically anti-droid planets—Dura, Stennock, Tellania—and if that passes, it may move to pacifistic planets like…" Palpatine had never understood species that could sleep with their eyes open until that moment.
Palpatine stood still as the trading ship touched down on the landing pad. As far as he could tell, his duty as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Senate of the Galactic Republic was to march up to some unbathed, unshaven trading pilot, spew some pre-written political jargon that had no actual meaning in his face, and walk away. Oh, when he got the person that invented all these precedures in his hands…
The crew came down the descending ramp, led by their pilot. "Welcome back to Naboo," Palpatine said jovially. No matter how fed up he felt inside, the great Senator Palpatine could always be diplomatic when the time came.
"It is good to be back here, Supreme Chancellor," the pilot responded, trying to appear humble (but failing miserably).
"Now that the Naboo Trade War had ended, I am happy to say that you will be the first of many more trading ships that will once again fill the docks of this fair planet," Palpatine continued.
"Would you like to see the first new shipment unloaded?" the pilot asked pleasantly.
No! Palpatine's mind screamed. "Of course," his mouth said.
The party went around to the back, but before the crew could lower the cargo hatch, Palpatine's chief bodyguard insisted on inspecting the cargo first.
"We don't pose any threat," the pilot insisted. "We're carrying mainly power cells."
"I would just like to make sure of that," the bodyguard said curtly.
"Look, we didn't even learn that we'd be meeting the Supreme Chancellor until we came out of hyperspace less than an hour ago. We couldn't pull anything even if we wanted too, which we don't."
Before the bodyguard could retort, Palpatine stepped in between them. "Please, gentlemen," he started, "we don't need any of this bickering. Captain Sellis has a reputation for being quite quick and efficient. I promise you, you will not be delayed in any way, and if anything is broken, it will be funded from the good captain's personal account."
Sellis looked startled. "Sir—"
"Just be careful not to break anything," Palpatine said coldly. Sellis saluted smartly, then started giving orders to the rest of the bodyguards. Palpatine smiled inwardly. This was the first step in the government's new direction. Already he could see the increase in the captain's efficiency. Yes, the days of dormancy and stagnation were about to die.
Suddenly, the sounds of a struggle came from withing the cargo bay. "What the—"
Before the pilot could finish, a bodyguard came out dragging a boy of about ten behind him. "Lemme go!" the boy shouted.
"Was this listed cargo?" the guard asked testily at the pilot.
The pilot appeared shocked. "Darian! What are you doing?!"
The boy's ice blue eyes looked directly into the pilot's. "Just tagging a ride," he breathed through clenched teeth.
Meanwhile, another bodyguard was busy sweeping the boy with a metal detector. After nothing registered, Sellis asked, "Did you not run a pre-flight inspection of the cargo bay?"
"Well… uh…"
"No? Do you realize that an assassin could have easily stowed away aboard this ship if a mere child could?"
"I am not a child," the boy snarled.
Ignoring him, Sellis continued, "Fine. You said you were carrying fuel cells, correct? Don't most standard fuel cells contain a compound that is both mildly radioactive and releases a harmful gaseous substance?"
"Yes," the pilot squeaked.
"So if there had been a leak…" The pilot nodded dumbly. Normally, Sellis would have stopped about there, but Palpatine's threat made him want to make a good impression. "I am going to personally see that you and posssibly your crew lose any possiblility of a future whatsoever. Do you understand that?"
The pilot's shoulders slumped, and he could only nod again. Sellis turned triumphantly towards Palpatine to see his reaction.
Palpatine, however, had blocked the rest of the universe out since the boy had cried out against being called a child. The sheer anger that flowed out of the boy washed over Palpatine like a refreshing wave. So much hate in this young boy! It was at that moment that Palpatine suddenly became aware that the boy was amazingly Force-sensitive, though he was willing to bet the boy didn't know it. There must always be two: no more, no less…
"Sir?" Sellis asked for the third time.
"Hm?" Palpatine asked, snapping out of his reverie.
"What shall we do with the boy, sir?"
"Well, that depends on what he was doing, now, doesn't it, captain?" Palpatine replied.
Sellis mumbled a hurried, "Of course," before shifting his attention to the boy.
"What were you doing, boy?"
"I have a name, you know," the boy responded.
"What were you doing?"
"I have a name, you know," the boy repeated in the exact same tone of voice.
"Fine. What's your name?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"Because if you don't," Sellis retorted, frustrated, "I am going to lock you up and throw away the key."
"Oh really? Against someone as young and innocent as me?" the boy replied mockingly.
"His name is Darian Modu," the pilot said softly. "He's a resident of the last world I was on. He must have snuck on board without me knowing it."
"Obviously," Sellis snorted.
Palpatine had slipped into another reverie. For such a tender age, the boy had amazing inner strength. He was challenging and testy in the face of a grown-up security guard! And he didn't know it, but this was the Supreme Chancellor's chief bodyguard!
"You awake, old man?" Modu spat at him.
"Do not address the Supreme Chancellor that way!" Sellis screamed.
"Supreme Chancellor?" Modu asked, awestruck. It didn't matter how strong his inner will was—being in the presence of the highest rank of the entire Republic, at the age of—whatever his age was—not something to be taken lightly.
"It's obvious this child isn't going to say anything here," Palpatine said finally, conscious of the derogatory term. "Put him in a minimum security facility, until he does."
As the boy was carted away, Palpatine suddenly smiled inwardly. For the first time since he had become Supreme Chancellor, he was happy on all accounts.
Darian sat on the prison cell bed, back to the wall, staring straight between the middle two bars. He had gotten over his initial shock fairly quickly; this was a bad situation, and remaining in awe that he had seen the Supreme Chancellor in person wasn't going to help anything. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do; all he knew was that he wasn't going to tell the guards anything.
And they really were guards. There didn't appear to be any policemen anywhere. Darian figured that they must have been wiped out during the War. He idly wondered what they would do now: security guards wouldn't work forever, and what citizen of Naboo would help their conquerors? Anyone who wants to save his neck, Darian reasoned.
He never heard him approach. One minute, he was alone, and the next, he was staring straight at some man. Or at least, what he thought was a man. The person was dressed entirely in black robes, with his head bowed just enough to conceal everything about him except his mouth. "What do you want?" Darian challenged.
"Feisty, aren't we, boy?" the figure asked.
"I am not a boy," the boy hissed.
"Ah, yes. Excellent, young man! You have an unusual amount of anger for one so young."
"Hey, wait a minute—you're the Suprem—" Darian's words caught in his throat as it constricted without his permission. He found he couldn't breathe. He was choking! But how? It was then that he noticed the robed man's hand held out in a fist.
"Do not refer to me as that out loud, child," the man said in a merciless tone.
Darian nodded desparately. The man opened his hand, and the boy fell to the floor, gasping for air. "How… how did you…"
"How did I do that? It is a simple trick for me, really. I can do far greater things, young boy."
The boy looked at him in a cross between wonder, fear, and self-assurance. "You wouldn't kill me," he said at last.
"I would prefer not to, but I have no qualms about silencing you should the need arise." The flatness of his voice told Darian that he was serious.
He climbed back up on to the bed. "So what exactly do I call you?"
"I am Darth Sidious. I am a Sith."
Darian's eyes widened. "A Sith? You mean a Dark Jedi?!"
"That is correct," Sidious smirked. "And I believe that you have the makings of a Sith Apprentice."
Darian's face suddenly hardened. "How do I know that? How do I know you won't just 'silence' me right now?"
"If I wanted to kill you, boy, I wouldn't have let you go. I give you a choice: join me, or die."
Darian looked down. Of course, he didn't want to die. But even if that wasn't the only other option, something inside of him was elated. He had heard about the powers of these Sith. It was like being a Jedi, without any moral codes getting in the way, as far as he could tell. Imagine the power! He had already witnessed first hand one of their abilities. Who knows what else they might have!
And suddenly, Darian knew that he wanted the power. He wanted that ability in his own palm, and all the greater ones that this Sidious—the Supreme Chancellor!—said was possible.
"I will join you," Darian said finally.
Sidious smiled. "Excellent. Everything is proceeding as I have forseen it." From somewhere within his robes, Sidious produced a key. "Come, boy. It is time for you to meet your destiny."
Not too far away, Yoda bolted upright in his bed, waking from a dream he hadn't had in almost seven and a half centuries. There was a creature in dark robes, a Sith, standing before him—no, not him: the entire galaxy. And it was laughing. The first time he'd had the dream, it was because of a subconscious fear; it was back before he was a Padawan, the night of the first day he'd been told of the Sith. The stories and legends had scared him to the core, more than any ghost story he'd ever heard. That first time, it had been nothing more than a nightmare. But this time it was no nightmare.
And suddenly, Yoda felt very, very cold.