The men all take their seats, amid a sea of murmurs and furtive whispering. I can feel my own heart pounding hard as the moment I have been planning for is at hand. Finally all are seated, save me, and all eyes turn to me, all attention is attuned to me and me alone.

"I have an important announcement," I repeat, looking around the room,

"Concerning the last will and testament of the late Emperor Palpatine."

More murmurs go around the room at the mention of the emperor's name. The nature of his death has remained something of a mystery as far as I can tell, most people believing that he died when the Death Star exploded. I wonder how many of the men present here today know the real cause of his death? And that it was his own apprentice who killed him? I wait for the men to become quiet again before I continue.

"I have here on this disc," I declare, holding up the disc containing the will, "the last wishes of the late emperor. I have studied it thoroughly, consulted with legal experts who have assured me that it is completely valid. It contains information regarding the future of the Empire, information that is pertinent for all of us here present."

"Don't keep us in suspense, Lord Vader," Kastellan speaks up, his irritation clear. "Let us in on the big secret."

I turn to him, enjoying the nervous tension I can almost see emanating from him.

"It may surprise you to learn that the emperor named an heir," I continue, "who he wanted to succeed him as the new galactic emperor. That heir is me."

There is a stunned silence for a moment or two as the men absorb this shocking news. And then it starts; the buzz of remarks, the whispered questions, the exclamations of shock; yet no one has spoken any word of protest, no shout of outrage. Not yet…

"You Lord Vader?" asks one admiral whose name I do not know. "This is quite surprising, I have to say."

"No one was more surprised than I," I admit. "But it was the emperor's wish; I am not about to question his it. Nor should any of you," I add, the hint of a threat behind my words.

"I think I speak for many of us, my lord," begins another man tentatively, "when I ask if it would be too much trouble to actually see this document. For verification, of course."

"You doubt me?" I ask simply.

"It is not that," stammers the man. "It's just that..."

"You think me a liar?" I demand, my voice rising in timbre.

"Of course not, my lord!" exclaims the man nervously, beginning to wish he had never said a word. "I..I.."

"I believe what the good admiral is saying," says Kastellan at last. "Is that this is far too important for us not to see the proof. You may kill me for asking it, Lord Vader, but I will still ask, as would any man in this room if he had the courage to do so."

Here we go… I think as I regard Kastellan. It all begins now, does it?

"Here is your proof," I tell them. "I have downloaded the contents of the will onto the imperial data net. It is public domain now, anyone may see it. Have a look, gentlemen. I have nothing to hide," I finish, wincing at the irony of my last comment.

The admirals move to the computer stations around the perimeter of the room, each jostling for a view of the screen. Kastellan, however, does not seem overly anxious to see the proof he so audaciously demanded. No doubt it will not dissuade him from whatever course of action he has decided upon. I can sense the acceptance of the men as they read the document for themselves, and the verification affidavit that has been attached to it. They do not like it, but they can see that my claim is legal, and, so far, seem willing to accept it at face value.

"My congratulations, my lord," offers Admiral Borg as he approaches me. "Or perhaps I should say, your majesty," he adds with an obsequious bow.

Your majesty…how bizarre that sounds when directed at me…

Within a few moments the majority of the men have offered their congratulations, apologies, undying loyalty, et cetera ad nauseum. Did I grovel like this when I was Palpatine's lackey? I wonder, already beginning to grow tired of the blatant obsequiousness of the men. I sense, however, that there is more to it than mere boot licking; they are all jockeying for position, knowing that the emperor needs a right hand.

Kastellan, I have noticed, is very quiet, and this disturbs me. What are you up to? I wonder, watching him from across the room. I try to probe his mind, to see what it is he is plotting; but the room contains too many distractions, and I am constantly being interrupted by offers of congratulations, inquiries about my plans to assume the throne, nonsense and empty flattery all of it. I have no interest in what these men think; the only mind that interests me at the moment is that of my enemy, and it is impossible to access amid all the commotion that surround me.

"Be seated," I command, and the men immediately move to their seats once again. I cannot help but notice that their level of obedience has increased tremendously since my announcement; so much the better...

"I have no interest in a meaningless ceremony that only wastes time and money," I tell them. "As far as I'm concerned, the existence of this will is all the ceremony I require. I will assume the title of emperor as of this day, assuming the Endeavour as my temporary home."

"Why the Endeavour, my lord?" asks Kastellan. "When here on the Aggressor great pains have been taken to see to your particular living accommodations? Surely it would make more sense for you to reside here for the time being, would it not?"

As this moment, I almost wish that I were Darth Vader, for I know exactly how Vader would deal with this man. He would be dead by now; no, he would have been dead days ago the first time he questioned an order. How can I maintain the appearance of being Vader and allow this man to continue to question my authority so blatantly? And then it hits me…he knows….he knows that I am not Darth Vader…he is testing me, he is pushing me so that I will reveal myself, reveal that I am not the Dark Lord, and when that happens, all hell will break lose.

"It is my wish to remain there," I tell him, wishing I had a better answer. "That is all the reason you require, and certainly more than you deserve."

The other admirals are watching this exchange closely, expectantly; no doubt they are just waiting to see Kastellan's dead body fall to the floor.

"I have another theory, my lord," Kastellan continues, not reacting at all to my acerbic comment. "I believe the real reason that you feel comfortable on the Endeavour is because it is under the command of your friend, that traitorous Malz, who is in fact Firmus Piett, your former first officer."

The reaction of the men to this announcement is immediate and boisterous. I can feel that I am losing control of this situation. I must act fast or else all will be lost.

But before I can utter another word, the door slides open and a large group of armed clones enter, and immediately take up a position around the perimeter of the room, each one training their weapon on the man closest to them. Kastellan has planned this out well.

"What nonsense is this?" I return angrily, looking around nervously at the troopers who appear ready to execute the admirals at any moment.

"Nonsense?" Kastellan returns. "Come now, Lord Vader, time for the game to end. My ...esteemed colleagues here may be easily fooled, but I assure you that I am not. I know that you are not Darth Vader. You may appear to be him, but your actions, or rather inactions, prove otherwise."

"What are you talking about, Kastellan?" demands one of the men. "What are you getting at? And why are these troops holding us prisoner?"

The others voice their protestations as well.

"They are here to prove a point, my dear admiral," Kastellan continues. "We all know Darth Vader's intolerance for incompetence and insubordination. He brooked neither, and would kill anyone who dared to question him, or make the smallest error. Has he killed a single man since he has returned to us? No, he has not, despite many incidents for which the real Vader would have instantly killed. And as for his return to us, where was he? Has he ever explained where he was all those months? No, he has not. The Lady Vader is another issue, since when does Darth Vader have a wife, or even care about anyone enough to want them on board as a companion? Stop and think, gentlemen, and don't let your fear of this man cloud your judgment. He is an imposter! And now he has the means to control all of us because of this document naming Darth Vader as the heir to the empire!"

I stop his tirade with a movement of my hand, sending him across the room.

"Troops, stand down," I bark. "You will stand down immediately!"

The clones seem confused, not knowing what to do. They are misguided, without direction; it is then that I remember what Padmé suggested, and pray that she is right.

"I am the emperor now," I tell them, "you will obey my orders."

"The emperor?" the commander of the squadron repeats. "Admiral Kastellan said that…"

"Ignore what he said," I boom. "Your primary directive is to protect and serve the emperor," I tell him. "Follow that directive now, immediately!"

The clones look at one another in confusion, not sure what to do. They look at Kastellan, still struggling to his feet, and then to me.

"The proof is right before your eyes," one of the braver of the admirals tells the clone who is holding him prisoner. "See for yourself," he adds, indicating the computer screen behind them.

One by one the clones turn to look at the screen, and, having seen the proof, turn back to me.

"Your majesty, what are your orders?" the squadron leader asks.

"Arrest Joneth Kastellan," I command, looking back to where he was struggling to his feet. He is no longer there. I look around, the room is so crowded and confused, has he managed to slip away?

"Find him at once!" I bark.

"No need to look far, Vader," I hear from behind me. Before I can turn or react, I feel something sharp thrust into my back. I gasp for breath and stagger forward as the trooper closest to me shoots Kastellan down.

"Call the medics!" cries one of the admirals. Everything starts to move in slow motion as I fall to my knees. The last thing I see before I lose consciousness is Firmus Piett who has burst into the room with a group of his men. Good old Piett, I think as I surrender to the weakness enveloping my body. He was always so reliable…