Star Wars
In the Court of the Dark Lord
The landing ramp lowered, an imperial officer exited the shuttle, flanked by two stormtroopers.
The officer was a man in his mid-thirties. Harsh gray eyes scanned the landing platform, examining the obsidian walls of the citadel and the orange chaos of the distant volcanos. His face was long, a mouth that was just a bit too big sneered. Everything about his appearance was strict and stern, except his hair, which was on the long side, and ended in a pair of oversized sideburns. His non-dominant hand was wrapped tightly around the handle of a metallic case, his other hand hovered near his sidearm.
The troopers wore armor that was optimized for field operations, stripes of green and tan replaced the immaculate white of their comrades. Strange insignia adorned their shoulders. They moved with a sense of purpose; their index fingers stayed glued to the side of their blasters' trigger wells.
An attendant motioned for the group to follow, they entered the fortress.
Boots clicked on stone. The lights were dimmed. Polished black surfaces, golden trimming, sinister statues, the interior of this castle would be a strange place to most. But the officer and his escorts had been in places like it before. Yet, it was still a surreal experience, because those temples and fortresses were always dead, lying in ruins, buried for countless years.
They passed a vaulted chamber. Robed figures stood around a pedestal. Strange chants sent a chill down the officer's spine, he did his best to hide his discomfort. Questions flooded his mind. Was this the home of a cult? What kind of military leader was this nobleman? All he knew was that this mysterious man had a terrifying reputation.
After several more corridors they reached the throne room.
Columns ran along the length of the hall. Banners, each of them a war trophy, hung from intricately carved walls. Military members mingled with rough characters. Paranoid eyes glanced around at rubbery skin and alien forms. A brightly skinned twi'lek woman played repetitive notes on a stringed instrument, its melody interrupted by an evil cackle. The officer and his troops walked through the menagerie, sickened to the core.
A man sat on the throne. A jet-black robe covered his massive frame, the hood drawn over his face. Light gleamed off of the chrome finish of his robotic limps. A hose ran from within the garment to his face. The officer squinted, seeing that the hose was connected to some kind of breathing apparatus, which was triangular in shape. Above this, two tiny points of red marked the location of the strange being's eyes.
Nearby, a man that was far too heavy for military service sat on the stone floor, rocking back and forth. Several tattooed women sat in a circle, speaking in hushed tones. The dark lord's mechanical breaths drowned out the sound of the twi'lek's instrument.
The attendant walked over to the man's side, "Lord Vader, Commander Aske of the Naerheeb is here to see you."
The man on the throne seemed less than impressed, but then again, it was difficult to tell with his face hidden.
"I normally bring these artifacts to the emperor himself," the officer said, before issuing what was meant to be a subtle warning, "Who I answer to directly."
The dark lord's voice was impossibly deep, impeccably controlled, and mechanically enhanced, "Do you have the artifact?"
To the point, this Vader lived strangely, but he knew what was important. Aske opened the case, sat the metal cube on a nearby table. Vader glanced at the holocron, looked away after a few seconds, examining an alien wearing a mitra.
Aske was starting to get impatient, "My lord, don't you suffer from health problems, shouldn't you be wearing your life support suit?"
"Your concern is appreciated, commander. I wouldn't worry about it."
"Yes. I feel that you should know, the dig site was attacked by a rebel agent. I lost almost a hundred troopers getting this artifact."
A mechanical finger moved to press a button on the arm rest, "Quadruple security, we are about to have an unwelcome guest," someone in a control room acknowledged the order.
"You think that the rebel followed us here?" Commander Aske inquired, looking around the room again, counting the guards.
The dark lord didn't answer him, choosing to ask his own question, "Do you know where the word Naerheeb comes from?"
"It is an ancient Sith word, meaning those that uncover the truth. Should we move the holocron to a vault?"
And again, he ignored the commander's concerns, "Your corps was created to find and secure artifacts of use to those that know the power of the Force. I wonder, do you understand just how important this task is?"
"My unit was formed by the emperor himself."
The fat man on the floor yelled hysterically, "The sacred fire has been stolen by the Rodent God! Blind greed and the parting shot of a dead ideology destroy what once brought joy!" the outburst caused many to jump, before giggling like children.
Commander Aske wasn't amused, he looked at the man, a mixture of contempt and pity on his face, "Lord Vader, this is most irregular. Is this man under the influence of an illegal substance?"
The robotic inhaling and exhaling continued, its eerie sound unescapable, "I can assure you, commander, other than pain killers, no one under my command uses drugs of any kind."
"Then why is he babbling like that?"
"He is cursed with the truth."
From behind the throne a figure in black armor stepped into view. Aske recognized the storm trooper variant, the Purge troopers, those that hunted Jedi. The red visor bobbed as he looked the commander up and down. "Your file says that you are Force sensitive," the special forces member stated, his voice made harsh and lifeless by the helmet's speaker system.
Aske took a moment, praying that he didn't sound nervous, "Yes. It is to a low degree. That is one of the reasons why I was picked for this assignment. I can assure you, my loyalty is to the emperor."
Vader's voice wormed its way into his ears, "I think that you should tell us what is in the holocron. It will help you to better understand your mission."
He could feel his awareness being dragged out of his body, as if a mighty hand had grabbed ahold of his soul. His consciousness floated toward the ancient device.
Dream logic took hold, telling the commander that he was seeing a higher plain of existence.
Hated faces stare back from mirrors, casting fractured minds into existential nightmares, desperately covering their shame with frowning white glory. Alienation and cruelty deflected by the calculated chic of doomed oppressors, granted immortality by obsessive fear.
Static images on flat surfaces, which was strange to Aske. A picture of a smiling girl, her hair tied up; the eyes cut out by bitter hands, blank holes left in their place. A hateful message boomed out to all who would listen, "Why is this girl here!"
Panic struck him in waves, burning holes in his sanity.
High adventure overthrown by the obsessive love of false realities. Men that are more like children disguise their pleasure seeking, calling it a new mythology.
And they all worship him, the dark lord, their replacement for fallen faiths and an escape from their failed leaders.
The vision ended, Aske's eyes were locked open in horror, his mouth agape. The officer was catatonic, his mind shattered. The Purge trooper shook his head, before wandering away.
Vader spoke mockingly, "It looks like the truth was too much for our friend," he turned to an officer in a crisp black uniform, "Captain Urluk, see to it that the rebel gets the holocron."
"Yes my lord, I'm sure that the enemy will enjoy your gift."
"Indeed, they will," Vader said as he watched the commander being carried away by his stormtroopers.
One of the tattooed women approached the throne, "You should have choked him. Why didn't you choke him?" she whined, before switching to a sensual purr, "I love it when you choke them!"
"It was getting old," Vader declared, slightly annoyed.
Her expression changed to a kind of adorable confusion, "Is that even how a holocron works?"
The dark lord's voice was like a distant thunder to the Naerheeb members as they left the room, "I wouldn't worry about it. Time to lighten things up. Get that Bith band in here, and make sure that they bring the Bantha bell, I love that thing!"