20 The Epic: THE DREAM (THE NIGHMARE)

Marius was out on the town, as his shift had ended with the opera. Aloo was about to retire. "Your turn," he had told her while handing over the clothing Palpatine had worn that evening. "He'll want this stored back away- in the 'upper suite.'"

Aloo meant the other quarters within the Imperial Palace which Palpatine seldom used. Like the Throne Room, they were housed at the top of one of the former Jedi Temple towers; a diversionary target since Palpatine was presumed to still reside there.

As it was late, the path through the old temple's main hall was nearly clear. The few beings by chance still present, took pause until Palpatine slowly passed, his hunched frame dwarfed under soaring pillars and expansive mezzanines. He didn't bother with the pretense of being accompanied by guards.

"With all due respects your Eminence," Eva ventured, "…in your speech at the opera…you mentioned that the military is made up of everyone. But it's not quite accurate. For example, you've practically overlooked half your available resources."

His profile was just partly visible as she walked alongside. He mulled over her words with jaw slightly open, seeming to caress his molars with his tongue. "So it shall be done. I'll issue the provision to induct more females." And no more was added.

That was considerably simpler than anticipated. She faced away in the turbolift, so that the Palpatine could not see whilst she allowed a self-satisfied smile. It would take time, but surely voices greater in kind would bring favorable change.

When he next broke the silence, her surprise swelled. In a voice most sincere he asked, "Your family…they might be threatened now that it is revealed their daughter was an Imperial spy. Would you like security for them?"

He had to let her in- as with all his quarters, there was no control pad to the door. Once inside, Palpatine simply left the lights off for privacy instead of adjusting the opacity of the windows. The floor to ceiling glass was thick, and the passing traffic and city beyond glowed in silence. The Emperor paid no mind to the glistening overlook of Coruscant.

The 'glass house' looked like it was furnished with relics of the past - smooth curves and a predominance of red, suggestive of the Chancellery. It was the antithesis of the vast, catacomb quarters Palpatine had come to prefer.

Silently he looked over his belongings, deciding which to relocate to the Death Star. Outfitting yet another residence was actually stretching his possessions thin. Of course he had the means...just not the interest.

It wasn't a ruse? Was he actually going to the Death Star when the Alliance would know of it? Eva studied the dark silhouette of his frame. His pale hands were clear in the low light, but there was a mere suggestion of his facial features under the cowl. Perhaps he'd send a double in his place. She did not care if he sensed a whiff of her concern.

Then at last he did pause and take note of the view. Quietly he spoke with a voice less familiar - smoother as the Chancellor's. "This Empire… the resources it has accumulated, its structure and operation… all sublime in crafting. It is my gift to those who've served and sacrificed for it. Every member, to each his task, is integral. We've had a republic before. It failed. And failure of the Empire would only bring chaos. Lawlessness. Poverty… and more death.

"The Empire is fragile… more so than I wish to admit." Only then did Palpatine turn and make eye contact. "Your position here… it's not as a servant. It is to uphold this government.

"…Vader… he is an idealist, just as much at that Alliance he means to crush. What actually works isn't pretty. Everyone believes they can do better. I've been at it for over 20 years, Of course I've tried everything…worked it from every angle. This conflict… it only poisons the outcome.

"Skywalker snuffed out 1,200,000 souls when he launched that torpedo at DS-1. There is no reason to feel remorse… for what needs to be done."

Putting away the robe, she found another old cloak in the back of the closet. As it had not been used in many years, it was sealed in clear film. She tore it aside to feel the dark green velvet and the shimmering, crinkled olive underrobe. The chest and shoulders of the outer cloak had an yoke embellished with dark green cording, sewn down in curves and loops. There was no hood. It was from the days when he was Chancellor. The elegantly detailed clothing was what she had seen in his youthful apparition. It was not stained with wine, because he hadn't actually worn it that evening.

The opulence was a throwback to the heyday of the Republic, just before she was born -the corrupt times Palpatine referenced in his speech that evening. By comparison tastes had become restrained. Some might say 'stark.'

This was easily the most beautiful clothing he possessed and she wanted to see again the illusion of his uncorrupted, youthful face. She had sunk to the floor with the robe draped across her lap. A flood of emotion released, she had not allowed herself to acknowledge. Her throat tightened and her vision blurred with tears. If she did not know all his wickedness, she surely knew the worst of it. What kind of monster was she herself, that she still felt affection for him?

Close to the time Republic collapsed into Empire, Anakin had awaited the waning hours in an adjacent spire, nearly about to give over to him. Palpatine was the stronger of the two. Something she could not help herself to admire, and something distressing for Vader's well-being. She didn't want him to defy his master in the Throne Room for her. She didn't want any of it to be about her. She needed to let Vader go.

Time was running out…

And there Palpatine stood at the closet opening, looking down at her at his feet and clinging his old clothing. Many times, he had luxuriously soaked in the fear billowing off those in his presence. This sensation was quite another thing.

"Not the boy. The Chancellor," she breathed.