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Star Wars AU The Triumph of Darth Plagueis: Episode Twenty-Three – Rebels Prologue IV: Imperial Agents
By
Celgress
13 BBY
Hoth
The blinding blizzard swirled around the ice caps. Only the hardiest of beings would dare tread the dreaded ice fields of Hoth alone. The eighteen year Boba Fett was one such being. Already a feared imperial agent by the tender age of fourteen Fett was a worthy successor to the mantel of his deceased blood thirsty 'father' Jango Fett. Dressed in modified grey Imperial guard battle armor behind a white fur cloak the young Fett carefully surveyed his surroundings through micro-binoculars build into his helmet, seeing nothing aside from the barren landscape Fett caste himself adrift in the Force.
His force sensitivity, with a potential equal to that of your average Jedi or Sith master, was a gift granted him, during the Clone Wars at the age of twelve, by his liege the glorious Darth Plagueis. Unlike many of his fellow recruits Fett preferred the role of Sith assassin to that of lord, and was trained accordingly. The thrill of combat was everything, nothing else mattered to Fett.
Fett detected a fast approaching weak presence in the Force. Ah there you are Fett thought smugly. Deciding to lull his adversary into a false sense of security Fett waited until the man in mandalorian armor was mere centimeters away. Lunging at Fett from behind with one of his vibroblades the man's strike found nothing but thin air, Fett having summersaulted behind the attacker.
"I'm disappointed in your skills." Fett taunted landing behind his would be killer. "I had expected more from the great Kro Lann. Perhaps I've overestimated you? Perhaps you surviving my initial assault when your two companions didn't was how they say, dumb luck."
"Die Sith monster!" Kro Lann yelled whirling around. Kro Lann was a blur of motion thrusting and slashing his vibroblades.
Fett avoided every blow with the grace of a dancer. Activating his left wrist mounted grappling line Fett soon had Kro Lann trapped by the neck. Quickly Fett hauled the frantic Death Watch member towards him. When the asphyxiating Kro Lann was within reach Fett activated the vibroblade mounted into his right wrist. Fett mercilessly plunged the projectile into Kro Lann's throat and twisted before withdrawing it and releasing the grappling line. Kro Lann his neck wound spurting blood like a fountain fell backwards onto the snowy surface which was soon stained crimson. Fett retrieved one of Kro Lann's vibroblades as a trophy of his latest conquest, picking it out of the snow Fett attached it to his belt.
Another day three more members of Death Watch eliminated Fett thought with grim satisfaction. All in all it had proven a productive mission. Though next time Fett hoped the targets picked a more pleasant place to hide. Activating his helmet's internal comlink Fett singled he was ready for retrieval.
Several hours later Fett found himself aboard a star destroyer under the command of some nondescript captain. Ignoring the thousands of white armored stormtroopers who scurried about Fett made his way to a holographic communication pad. Punching in his secret code Fett accessed the secure private frequency used exclusively by the Imperial Sith. Falling to one knee Fett soon found himself facing a hologram of the most powerful being in the Galaxy, head of his Order the Emperor Darth Plagueis.
"Ah Boba my boy, I trust the three Death Watch members hiding on Hoth have been taken care of?" The image of the Supreme Darth Lord asked his acolyte.
"They have my Master." Fett replied. "What is thy bidding my Master?" Fett inquired his voice low with reverence.
"Only that you may return to Imperial Center." The image of Plagueis instructed. "Once you've arrived we shall discuses a matter of some, delicacy."
"Thy will be done my Master." Fett said.
Imperial Center
Plagueis disconnected the transmission. Sitting back on his ornate throne, surrounded by his indisputably loyal imperial guards Plagueis felt nervous. The elder Sith could hardly believe what he had recently learned through his extensive spy network. Not only were Yoda, Obi-wan Kenobi, Siri Tachi and Kenobi's pesky Padawan Katooni all still alive but they were raising Vader's lost children as a family on Tatooine of all places! This couldn't do it couldn't do at all. Plagueis' hold over Vader and Cyrin was tenuous at the best of times. The pair had never really trusted him again following the unfortunate events on Zeltros. Plagueis had thought making the two defiant Sith remain cyborgs would toughen them however it only increased their defiance and frustration. Giving Vader an apprentice had proven equally disastrous. Plagueis didn't dare give the even more unstable Cyrin an apprentice of her own. He shuddered to think what might happen if he did. Now Vader's children reappear miraculously alive, six years later. Plagueis knew what must be done. There was in truth only one option left to the aging Grand Master's mind. If the house of cards he had built was to remain standing then Cyrin and especially Vader could never learn the children had survived. As long as the children remained they would always be a threat to Plagueis and the Empire. The Force had told him as much. There was no possible future in which the twins survived that Plagueis and the Empire prospered. There was only one viable option, the twins must die. Fett was the perfect instrument of Plagueis' will. The young assassin would take care of the threat with the discreteness the situation deserved.
A Star Destroyer, somewhere in transit between systems
"If she dies, you all die!" Darth Vader said ominously laying the unconscious body of Darth Cyrin on a medical bed. Cyrin's cybernetic midsection was badly burnt. Her terrible wound was still smoking slightly.
It should have been me Vader thought looking down at his seriously injured love. She jumped in front of the shower of blaster bolts meant for me. She saved me, yet again. I didn't pick up the intentions of the delegation through the Force, but Cyrin did. The Mon Calamaris will pay dearly for this betrayal! Vader would see their planet reduced to cinders!
"Sir there is nothing you can do for Lady Cyrin." A human medic said. "Please let us do our work sir. It is vital we stabilize her, so she'll make it to the nearest fully equipped medical base. We'll keep you posted on her condition."
Before the human medic could draw the curtain Vader gently took Cyrin's hands in his own. Kneeling he whispered as best he could in her nearest audio receptor. "Don't you dare die on my Snipes. Not after everything we've been through together." Then Vader said words the human medic could scarcely believe. "Remember, I love you." Vader then stormed out of the medical unit.
Vader retreated to the luxury Sith Suite which every star destroyer carried. Sitting on the plush bed Vader held his head in his hands. Vader had seldom felt this helpless. The only other times that sprang to mind was when he lost his mother (twice), when Padme rejected his offer of help saving her & the twins with assistance from Plagueis and when he'd first awakened as a cyborg. What had he done to deserve this? A flood of memories suddenly washed over his mind.
"Master Skywalker there are too many of them." said a Young Boy as a group of younglings emerged from their hiding places behind several chairs.
"General Grievous is here what are we going to do?" asked a Young Girl. Vader answered by closing the door behind him with the Force. Vader then threw his blue lightsaber towards the startled younglings cutting them down en masse.
"Take me instead." Vader said pleading with the Force. "Let her live. I'm the one who deserves to die."
Darth Tropiheus, the now thirteen year old Pau'an, cautiously entered the quarters he would be sharing with his master Dark Vader. It had been a long day and Tropiheus just wanted to rest, however he was wary of further upsetting Vader. Tropiheus knew Vader was an emotional wreck following the Mon Calamari ambush. Vader was in such bad shape after Cyrin had fallen it was left up to the inexperienced Tropiheus to provide cover, along with the stormtroopers, while the party beat a hasty retreat. It hadn't been easy but Tropiheus had managed to deflect all of the remaining blast bolts, save a few.
Rubbing his burnt shoulder Tropiheus entered the suite. Hearing a disconcerting low wail Tropiheus paused. There it was again. What was it? Scanning the room with his eyes Tropiheus saw a sight he couldn't believe at first. There sitting in the middle of the main room on the queen sized bed hunched over was Vader, his head in his hands. What's more unless Tropiheus was mistaken the sounds emitting from Vader's helmet were deep sobs. Slowly Tropiheus approached. If Vader sensed Tropiheus' presence he gave no outward indication.
"Master Vader are you, crying?" Tropiheus asked now standing directly in front of Vader.
"Of course not, you're being ridiculous Tropiheus." Vader said his mechanically distorted voice seemed horse; Vader looked up waving a gloved hand dismissively at the youth.
Tropiheus sat down besides Vader. He didn't want to chance getting on his Master's bad side again. Tropiheus bore the saber scars which proved just how volatile Vader's temper could be. Though he feared he'd regret it later he said. "Lady Cyrin is a fighter Master she'll be okay."
In response Vader said nothing. Instead Vader reached out with his glove hand. Hesitatingly Tropiheus laced his fingers between Vader's own. The two Sith, master and apprentice sat together for a long time.
The next day they arrived at the nearest medical base, where Cyrin's wounds could be best treated. It was another day before Cyrin regained consciousness. Vader silently thanked the Force, then he went about exacting his legendary revenge on the Mon Calamaris. Vader ordered the entire planet devastated from orbit after the population had been sold into slavery. Vader along with Cyrin had taken tremendous glee in torturing and painfully killing the most prominent members of the ruling class. In decades to come the savaging of the Mon Calamari population would become a by word for excessive cruelty and a railing cry for the Rebellion.
To Be Continued