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Chapter 2: Palaces & Powerplay
Dawn came bleakly through narrow slits in a grey room hundreds of stories above Imperial Center's ground level. The stark, sterile environment cradled a single object sitting dead center. It was an obsidian sphere, glossy and mirrored on the outside, reflecting nothing but the flatness around it.
Reflected, too, was the flatness of the heart that beat within. Its beating slowly accelerated with a change in temperature and brightness designed to simulate normal waking conditions. Without them, its resident would be blind to external cues, adrift in semi-conscious limbo.
That was certainly not somewhere Darth Vader wanted to be. So he had programmed the sleep chamber's settings himself to ensure flawless performance. In five years of use, it had yet to malfunction.
One thing, at least, he had control over in his life. One thing he could be proud of.
It was a meager victory, considering his need for the Qabbrat chamber in the first place. But he tried not to dwell on that. Instead, he practiced envisioning his paradigm as others saw it: fearsome, invincible, and obscenely wealthy. Anyone viewing the thousand-foot-high obelisk that was his palace saw it as nothing else.
Black and impenetrable, just like his suit. A symbol of supreme, uncontested power recognized throughout the galaxy.
And just like his suit, the intimidating design compensated for wounds hidden inside. But nobody would ever guess that shameful truth. It was this widespread ignorance that Vader used to patch the gaping holes in his soul each day. As long as others believed him indestructible, he was.
Only one individual knew otherwise – one whose palace was the only structure that overshadowed Vader's. One who happened to be contacting Vader at that very moment, breaking him from the last remnants of synthesized sleep.
"Vader! You are not in my strategy office as we discussed," the Emperor hissed irritably through the holo communicator. "Xizor and I impatiently await your presence!"
Blast – he'd forgotten to set the Qabbrat to wake him earlier than usual this morning. If he kept Sidious and Xizor waiting, the investors would eventually be kept waiting as well. What was the matter with him? He'd felt a little foggy since yesterday evening. The day had been splendidly productive until just before sunset, when the words on his datapad suddenly stopped making sense. He'd retired early, hoping whatever it was would pass, yet he felt little improved.
Worse still was the fact that Sidious had contacted him before his helmet was in place. His bare head wasn't anything the Emperor hadn't seen, but Xizor was a different matter. Having his rival see him like this was most unsavory.
Scowling, he punched the button to lower his helmet, rubbing his bloodshot eyes before it descended.
"My apologies, my master," he coughed. "I will arrive shortly."
"Snap to it! The Prince hates having his time wasted as much as I do!"
"Yes, I understand master."
"And don't forget to bring the new schematics for the investors to see."
"I have prepared them to your specifications."
"Good! I will not tolerate any more sloppiness on your part, Lord Vader. If this meeting does not proceed to my satisfaction, the consequences will be yours."
Before Vader could give another self-effacing reply, the Emperor's blue holo form vanished. He pounded a gloved fist onto the chamber release key. The day was certainly off to a great start. And soon he'd be simpering before Prince Xizor, Sidious' newest pet. Fantastic.
What could he hope to gain from that alliance? he grumbled while riding the turbolift. Xizor had a few connections, sure. Well, maybe more than a few. But out of anyone, Sidious should know that all the weapons and money in the universe were nothing compared to the Dark Side. Why entertain this mafia prince when a far worthier apprentice already existed?
Xizor's role in Empire affairs had grown gradually over the years. Vader recalled first seeing the green-skinned Falleen at a handful of public events soon after the Clone Wars' end. He'd shaken the Emperor's hand, sipped a few cocktails, and watched the other guests with calculating eyes. A wealthy but forgettable patron, all things considered.
That was Vader's impression until he discovered a new palace being erected just blocks from his own. It didn't take long to learn the owner's identity: Prince Xizor of Falleen, affluent businessman and investor. Rumor had it he owned a substantial portion of Imperial Center's land and companies. Rumor also had it he was tied to the nefarious Black Sun organization.
Suffice it to say, his neighbors hadn't rushed over with freshly-baked housewarming gifts. Not that they had for Vader, either.
And so, while no one was looking, Xizor had successfully jockeyed for prime position alongside the Emperor. Vader never saw it coming. Now there were three citadels in the Palace District instead of two. What an insult. What an affront to all the hard, tireless work Vader had put into earning his place. Not to mention the sacrifices…
He forced the unpleasant thoughts from his mind; he was fast approaching the Imperial Palace by way of underground transit. The corridor system connecting the palaces was convenient, he had to admit. He just wished Xizor didn't share that convenience.
Focus, Vader, he berated himself. He's not worth your attention. Maybe someday, when the time is right… but not today. Sidious wants no distractions today.
No distractions? That'd take a miracle. His head still felt ten feet underwater. What was causing this cursed interference?
He'd have to sort it out later. The Imperial strategy room opened before him, where Sidious and Xizor were pacing with hands behind their backs.
"It's about time! This delay is quite unacceptable," Sidious berated once more.
"I am here now, let that be enough."
"It might be enough if you brought satisfactory data."
Brushing past Xizor, Vader shoved a disc into the holo viewer.
"Good morning, Vader," the Prince smiled patronizingly.
"Xizor."
"In your haste to get here, I'm pleased you found time to put your face on."
Hot, seething indignation burned within that suit, much like the fires of Mustafar that necessitated it. Turning slowly, Vader straightened to his full height, which was just a couple inches above the Prince.
"I was genuinely worried you might leave without it," Xizor continued, unfazed. "Then I'd have wasted my time and my breakfast."
Grinning, Sidious shuffled toward them. "Gentlemen, the viewing screen, please."
Vader stared at the Prince several more seconds. If Sidious weren't here, you Falleen bastard…
"This looks good, Vader. The detail is superb," Sidious scrutinized the rotating image of the Death Star's understructure.
"Thank you, master."
"Mm, it's decent, but will it impress the investors?" Xizor rubbed his chin.
"Why do you doubt it?" Sidious inquired.
"I know these men, Emperor. They're very exacting, not unlike myself," Xizor crossed his arms smugly. "They'll want more than a cutaway view that took, what, two hours to construct?"
Vader bristled. "It took longer than –"
"My point is, we need at least a dozen more layers like this," Xizor spoke over him.
"I see," Sidious nodded. "Vader, can this be done?"
"Not immediately," Vader replied, still feeling defensive. "It would have to be completed around several other priority projects."
"Such as?"
He couldn't believe he had to justify his time management to Sidious. How infuriating. "The long-term execution of Order 66, for one. You ordered me to investigate a potential suspect on Alderaan."
"Ah, that I did," the Emperor wrinkled his mouth. "Well Xizor, I don't suppose you could procure the extra schematics?"
"I was hoping you'd ask. I can have them ready by the end of the week."
"Excellent! Once again, you've proven yourself invaluable."
"It's my honor to serve where others cannot, your majesty." He narrowed his eyes at Vader.
"Wasn't it wise of me to recruit him, Vader?"
How Vader hated this. The aged Sith Lord delighted in their rivalry, savoring their animosity when it flared at times like this.
"You are wise, my master," he affirmed, purposely omitting Xizor from the context.
"Yes, and soon we will all profit from it," Sidious rubbed his hands together. "This Death Star will cement our power like never before. Imagine it! A viciously armed, fully shielded battle station, the very sight of which will keep systems in line!"
"It shall be glorious," Vader concurred.
"Glorious? It will be legendary! Not a single sentient creature will be ignorant of it! The statement it makes will resound on every planet, near and far!"
Ironic how Vader's tardiness wasted valuable time, yet this egotistical rant didn't. Both he and Xizor were growing a little weary of the Emperor's self indulgence.
"What other business have we to discuss before the meeting, your highness?" Xizor suggested.
Sidious paused to recollect his thoughts. "What is the status of the covert intelligence project at 500 Republica?"
The question was obviously asked of Vader, who winced slightly at the reminder. It had been particularly cruel of Sidious to assign this job to him. Never mind there were dozens of other qualified, capable officers who could infiltrate that apartment building and install hidden cameras. He, Darth Vader, former spouse of her who had once lived at 500 Republica, was selected for the honor. It was no coincidence. It was unequivocally deliberate.
Sidious had to know Vader would drag his feet on this, so he clearly didn't regard it as a high priority. Efficiency wasn't his aim. Emotional suffering was.
"I am still in the process of obtaining the equipment," Vader answered carefully. Truth be told, he hadn't contacted a single supplier yet, but he'd learned how to obscure lies from Sidious' radar. It was a skill he'd come to rely on more than he could imagine.
"Further delay is intolerable. You will acquire the electronics within two weeks and have them in place within a month," Sidious spat.
Vader's heart fell. He should have known he could only avoid it for so long.
"Yes, my master."
"I want every room tapped before Viceroy Organa's jubilee celebration next month," the Sith said bitterly. "Even the vacant ones."
Beneath his helmet, Vader closed his eyes in defeat. "Understood, master."
"Viceroy Organa is having a gala? What threat does that pose?" Xizor spoke up, but not before noting Vader's depressed state.
"Bail Organa has long sympathized with those who foolishly cling to different ideals than we do," Sidious scowled, displeased with his ignorance. "If you had paid any attention to Clone War politics, you'd know that!"
"Pardon me. I was more interested in grooming my career than following has-been senators."
Sidious curled his lip. "Those has-been senators are worth watching, Xizor. When they're not staging protests and getting themselves arrested, they're haplessly leading us to other traitors – namely the Jedi."
Xizor looked ready to yawn. "You and Vader's pet project, not mine."
"And you will respect it!"
"As you wish," the Prince inclined his head slightly. Though the matter bored him, he did find new intrigue in Vader's reaction to 500 Republica. Such moments of vulnerability were rare – and reinforced Xizor's need to demystify the dark lord's paradigm. He'd catalogued every incongruity, every instance when Vader's inner armor cracked.
The various pieces of this puzzle had yet to be linked, but Xizor was nothing if not patient. Revenge tasted best when it had marinated for many months.
Indeed, many months had already passed since Vader decimated the Prince's family on the Falleen homeworld. If that black-clad Sith thought he could erase all evidence of his secret bio weapons lab without consequences, he had another thought coming. He'd learn vengeance was much harder to staunch than the flesh-eating bacteria outbreak that occurred.
For now, Xizor would play nice with this homely pair of Sith, until doing so ceased being profitable for him. They no doubt expected as much. What they failed to realize was that for Xizor, profit wasn't always strictly monetary.
As Vader, the Prince, and the Emperor silently rode the turbolift up to the investors' meeting, their private agendas rode with them. Each shielded his mind from the other two.
Of the three, Vader's was most in need of guarding.
He still didn't know what madness was plaguing him. Through the glass turbolift capsule, he watched Imperial Center's sky traffic, hoping the answer lay somewhere in the early morning haze.
Something was out there, beckoning and taunting him from the interwoven lanes of speeders. It was a tremor in the Force, the likes of which he hadn't experienced in… three years? Was that right? He had a vague memory of a similar disturbance during a past visit to Alderaan. He couldn't wait to get off the planet, yet at the same time, he'd found it painful to leave.
Most painful of all were the dreams he experienced for days afterward. Nothing but her face every night for a week. He woke up grinding his teeth.
He could only pray history wouldn't repeat itself. But he had an uneasy feeling that come nightfall, the torture would begin again.
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Having never read the "Shadows of the Empire" comics Xizor is featured in, I still wanted to integrate him into this story, even if it meant tweaking the official timeline. (The bio weapons lab incident mentioned in this chapter technically happened in 7 BBY, whereas this is 14 BBY. Also, he was originally involved with the 2nd Death Star's construction, not the first. But if you don't mind the alterations, I don't.)
Qabbrat is the technical name for Vader's meditation/sleep chambers. Another random fact I stumbled across recently.
And yes, there's meant to be some subtle humor at Palpatine's expense. He's my favorite character to lampoon, as some of you already know. :P
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