Change

Palpatine went to see his Master; it had been some time since they last spoke. Part of the Senator suspected Plagueis had no further use for Palpatine.

Or possibly, that Plagueis was directing his time and energy toward the Sith'ari, and could not be bothered with the intentions of Lord Sidious.

Yes…

Palpatine already sensed that his time was coming. That Plagueis would soon try to supplant him with the Sith'ari. Palpatine had never been one to stand back and let history have its way with him.

He would change this.

He would change lives.


"What is it?"

Plagueis spoke quietly and calmly. He'd already sensed his apprentice approaching.

"I wish to speak to you about the Sith'ari."

"Again?" To now, Plagueis had been seated, cross-legged, on a dais. The panorama in front of him gave a spectacular view of Coruscant at midday. Geometric lines of traffic traversed the amber sky, and skyscrapers rose out of the ground like silver and ebony stems.

"Do you see a purpose in this Sith'ari, Master?" Palpatine asked.

"I see none in discussing it."

Plagueis opened his eyes, lifting from meditation, and stood. From his vantage, Palpatine only saw a scowling jaw line among the folds of his master's robes.

"Why have you come, Lord Sidious? Surely you have better things to do. The romancing of your Jedi friend, perhaps?"

"She is a tool, my master. Nothing else."

"Of course," Plagueis said. He began pacing in a tight circle around Palpatine.

"You've heard these arguments before," Plagueis said slowly, ensuring that Palpatine heard every word. "The Sith'ari is not a weekend playtime exercise. It is a serious exploration into the deepest aspects of our being. He will be powerful, Lord Sidious. Ever so much more than wielding a mere lightsaber."

Palpatine was silent.

Plagueis sighed and continued. "I sense much fear in you, my apprentice. The fear of…replacement."

"Yes." The word was effortless.

"Fear not," Plagueis said. "This Sith'ari is a tool. Nothing else. You on the other hand, are power. Incarnate."

"Yes."

"I sense," Plagueis said thoughtfully, "something else. Elusive. You…care for someone." Plagueis' voice was of clinical distaste.

Palpatine allowed his master to search for her.

"Yes," Plagueis said, half-impressed. "A Jedi, of all people. If I wasn't so certain you would betray her, I would be angry. But you have little respect left for this woman. Or little use."

"That is correct," Palpatine said, his voice heavy with annoyance.

"You relish the power you possess, my apprentice? Do you feel it growing in you?"

"Absolutely."

"Then you require an outlet for that power." Plagueis smiled thinly. Palpatine nodded once, his eyes burned with passion.

Or hatred.

Plagueis didn't care which.

"Find this Alura woman of whom you are so enamored, and kill her. If she will not help you in acquiring the Holocrons, then she has no further reason to live."

"Master?"

"Her death will further immobilize the Council," Plagueis said without hesitation. He turned away and strode down the corridor, his words echoing back. "Make it look like an accident—suicide perhaps—something the Jedi frown upon. Something that will give us a degree of latitude. And further bind you to the Dark Side."


He hated it when Plagueis mentioned the "Dark Side."

He'd heard it many times before, and it still angered him. There was but one Force—unifying, ubiquitous, and ripe for the plucking. It remained only for Palpatine to take advantage of its wonders.

But...this was no advantage.

Standing over Alura as she lay sleeping. Peacefully, and perfectly unaware that she was about to become one with the Great Beyond.

Death.

The only great adventure.

And yet Palpatine himself yearned for something greater than mere adventure. He wanted...release.

A memory. Yes, that was it. Palpatine hated the theme of history—that the losers would be forever consigned to its annals. Forgotten to all but the most scrupulous of eyes, to those who made some kind of living glorifying the dead and the defeated. No…Palpatine had greater things in mind. He did not wish to be the afterthought of some child at Academy.

He wanted to live.

Forever.

To light up the sky like a flame. All in the name of self-preservation.

Because in his mind, Palpatine was the star of his own show. Nothing else mattered—and anyone else in the show was backdrop. Witness to a much larger tapestry being woven. Such backdrop couldn't be bothered with minutiae of life and death. Such quantities were an unknown to the Common Man.

Palpatine was focused ever on the future. To the horizon.

But here. Now.

There was only Alura—very asleep. And Palpatine standing over her, with a lightsaber hilt growing steadily heavier in his hand. He daren't press the activator. That would be…ruin. No, it was unthinkable. To destroy such a marvelous--

(specimen)

--Human being…would be, well, evil. Palpatine found himself chortling at the thought.

Evil is a point of view. And the Jedi concept of good is not the only valid one.

It had to be done. He knew this. If she would not be swayed, she would be destroyed.

Palpatine's ring finger slid over the bronze activator. A blade the color of blood and death sprang to life in his hand. He lifted the blade over his head, ready to strike her down.

With all of his hatred.

Deep inside, Palpatine wondered what the point was. Plagueis. He had been the engineer of this latest scheme. Killing an innocent Jedi so he may sleep soundly at night. This—

Palpatine looked at the woman sleeping in her bed. A frown wore across his face, and he lowered the lightsaber for a moment.

—this is murder.

And yet...you forget your place, Lord Sidious. The Jedi are relentless. Countless wars of old have demonstrated this. They will not rest until they find the Sith—Master and Apprentice—and kill them. Along with those who conspire against the great and powerful Jedi Council.

Yes. They must be stopped.

In the shadows of his mind, Palpatine made flawless logic of the situation.

This was the only way.

And before he brought the lightsaber down in one swift stroke, cleaving Alura's neck in a perfect symmetry, separating one charred hunk of flesh and Jedi from another, Palpatine said simply:

"I loved you. But I couldn't save you."


Continued...