Chapter 5: The Devils You Know

"Shuttle Klarok," the flight control navigator in the flight tower said, "We will not lower the invisibility cloak until you transmit your identity code and clearance level."

"Sending them now," the voice on the other end of the line replied promptly and the numbers began to pop up on the screen one after the other. The Imperial Flight Control Navigator sat back, his oval shaped black helmet resting on the top of his seat in an odd fashion. His commanding officer, a ramrod back Captain in sable uniform stepped up behind him, his footsteps precise and leaned in.

"What have we got here?" he inquired, putting a hand on the back of the chair.

"Sir, some shuttle wants to land," the navigator said. He shrugged his shoulders, "Seems to know we're here."

"Are those the identity codes?" he asked, tapping the screen on the console.

"Yeah," he nodded his head, the choppy/blocky letters of Galactic Standard scrawling across his screen, "I also decided to ask their clearance level as well. Hope you don't mind that, sir."

"No, no," the Captain shrugged, placing a hand on his subordinates shoulder and turning to leave. Unlike many Imperial commanders, he didn't much care if someone took initiative. "Probably a good idea."

The navigator laid his hands on the console, ready to reject and destroy them out of the sky if needs be. Suddenly the screen started flashing red and green and the navigator said nervously, "Uh...sir?"

The Captain turned and looking at the screen stood stunned, "This is Imperial Level 10 clearance. Who the sith spit has that? Let them land, I got to call this in."

The door flung open, and a black robed figure entered the room. "Peace is undesirable," Lord Verraad said, standing before the Supreme Admiral.

Balan looked up at him, drumming his fingers on his desk. His barrel chest seemed barely contained in the tunic of his uniform as the stress of the fabric suggested. The man's hair was thinning considerably and despite his brilliant maneuvers, was feeling his time for usefulness was coming closer and closer to the end.

"We might not have a choice in the matter," he pointed out, not appreciative of this man bursting in on him.

"We cannot gain the Empire if peace is had," Verraad said, his cloak hiding all but the permanent sneer on his face. "You and I both know this."

Balan folded his arms in disgust. He really hated the idea of sharing power with this Dark Sider. Back in the old days, one didn't need these pathetic Force-wielders to obtain power. But it was an alliance that he needed. He could save the Empire, but only with him at its head. And he'd betray this monster when he had a chance. But, as for now, Verraad had his purposes.

"We can use this to our advantage," he finally said, masking his inner-most thoughts.

"What?" the cloaked man said, his cloak hiding his expressions. He indeed read the Supreme Admiral's mind, and it was plain to him the betrayal. Not that he himself hadn't already been planning on betraying him as soon as the man was not worth his time.

"Peace," Balan clarified.

"Oh really?" he scoffed at the apparent leave of the man's senses, "how?"

"Peace means the Republic will drop its guard," he said, his mind turning, "And then we swoop in, captured Coruscant, and then get the Empire to admit we are smarter than any other choice for Emperor."

Verraad was silent for a minute. There was no way of knowing what the man was thinking, under that hood. Even if he removed it, he was so steeped in the Dark Side that any attempt to see into his mind would have shattered anyone who tried. But he had to agree; this was a practical plan.

"All right," he nodded slowly, "You make a good point. This had better work."

And without so much as a farewell, he turned to leave the office, his cloak bellowing behind him. Balan watched him leave, a sense of gratitude in him. No matter how much he needed Verraad, he was never comfortable around the man.

"Oh," he whispered, "It'll work."

"This is the most unwise decision you could possibly make," Pealleon growled as Tyron threw on his uniform and prepared to walk out into the night, "Coruscant is not Imperial territory anymore. Your rank will not protect you."

"You worry like a mother bantha," Tyron chided, "Believe me, I have diplomatic immunity."

"The average schmo doesn't care about such things," the Supreme Commander reminded him, "At least allow me to go with you."

Tyron sighed as he brushed off the arm-sleeve. He looked around at the suite prepared for him. It was nice for the most part. Rancor leather chairs, Kassyyykk wood tables. Tauntaun fur carpet. Frozen crystals from Illum.

"No," he shook his head, "We need to show strength. No greater strength than walking unarmed into the night on a hostile planet. And no sending people to follow me."

Pealleon face-palmed himself. This was the stupidest idea he had ever heard. Stupider than allow Joruus C'boath to run the Force side of the Empire during Thrawn's reign. He shuddered tl think of what might happen.

But there was no stopping the Grand Moff. He had spoken after-all. So, he stayed back and allowed him to move into the night. As the door closed, he turned to a Stormtrooper commando near the door.

"Camouflage and follow him," he ordered.

"But he said…"

"Do you really want the leader of the Empire to be killed by a mob?" he demanded, cutting off any further protest, "Now get going."

"Yes, sir," the soldier said and pushed a small button on his chest. He disappeared from sight and the door opened and closed to the suite as if on its own accord.

Luke sat on the doorstep outside Leia's apartment. He sat on bended knees. His head hung low and his arms were splayed outwards on the ground. He could feel the floor rippling from her approach, could sense the living Force around her. As he sat there, he did not know how she would take what he'd have to say.

Leia could be described as a firebrand in the Force. Her personal grace did not factor into how the Force portrayed her. She was the mother of a new generation of Jedi, and that responsibility turned the grace of the politician-mother into a blazing fire of which the Force was feed new energy and beings to control and be controlled. The sound of bags were the first thing he heard and next he heard her pause.

"What are you doing outside my door Luke?" she asked. He opened his eyes only then and looked up at her. A serious grin played across his face.

"Do you trust me, Leia?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked, carrying several big bags of groceries. They seemed to be having a hard time remaining balanced in her arms.

"I have a plan to end this war," he said, "But I need you to trust me."

Leia raised an eyebrow. "Of course I trust you," she replied, "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because," he said, slowly rising, "What I plan to do will not be politically correct for the Republic. In fact, no one will understand it. I have had a vision through the Force, Leia. I know what needs to be done to end this war and make everyone stronger. Do…you…trust…me?"

Leia looked into her brothers eyes. She saw a complete confidence she rarely saw in him. She knew about his experience with Moff Dray and she had heard Han describe him as "well…more complete". And now, she began to understand what that meant.

"I do," she nodded his head, "Do what needs to be done."