Chapter 44: Interlude III
Something's Rotten in the Empire
"Why are you delivering this report instead of Grand Moff Tarkin, Admiral Vorchenik?" the Emperor asked coldly, his chair turned away from the admiral as he basked in the view of Imperial City at dusk.
The admiral, a man in late middle age with thinning hair and a slight paunch, said, "He is dead, Your Majesty." Eyes and mouth creased with anxiety, jaw tight, he stood stiffly at attention before the Emperor's desk.
"Dead?" Palpatine became aware he was gripping his chair arm and forcibly relaxed his fingers. "The Death Star?"
Vorchenik gulped. "It was destroyed with all hands, save for the fighter pilots who were defending it."
The Emperor whirled his chair until he faced to face the incompetent fool. "Destroyed," he echoed.
He knew he was angry.
He must be angry.
But all he felt was a void.
"Explain."
"Governor Tarkin ordered it to Tatooine. While he was negotiating with the government, several squadrons of fighters appeared without warning and attacked the station. Within ten standard minutes, it was destroyed."
Palpatine burst to his feet. "Fighters? Shaak scat. What could fighters do against the Death Star?"
"Y-Your M-M-Majesty, I am not certain. I-I-I have analyzed the readings, but I still do not understand them."
"Show me." The air almost crackled with electricity.
The Emperor circled his desk, stalking down the steps toward Vorchenik, who quailed at his approach. Hands shaking, the admiral activated the holoprojector and a sensor recording popped up over the display. Utterly inexperienced in analyzing battles, the Emperor could make no sense of the readings, although the spike of energy at the end must register the Death Star's destruction.
Vorchenik pressed another button and the audio recording of Tarkin's broadcast, followed by Vader's insubordinate taunts, rang through the office. The rage that had eluded Palpatine earlier roared through his body. How dare that irrelevant, insignificant guttersnipe he had plucked from obscurity speak of him so insolently before the galaxy! How dare he use his master's first name on an unencrypted comm!
How dare he use his master's name at all! And to abandon his own name, his true name, gifted him by his master when he was freed from the Jedi lies. Every word he spoke was an insult calculated to inflame Sidious' temper.
With the thought, his fury cooled. Vader was trying to unbalance him with rage.
He paced away from the incomprehensible sensor readings, cane tapping rapidly, and considered his next move. He needed more information. He turned sharply toward his desk, but before he could touch his comm, it chimed. "What is it, Sornhaw?" he snapped.
"Colonel Yularen has just arrived, Your Majesty."
Ahhh. The Force had provided before he even asked. "Send him in."
Yularen bowed deeply as he entered. "Your Imperial Majesty, new Intelligence reports have reached me of a broadcast originating from Tatooine. I believe the situation serious enough to warrant my bringing it to your attention immediately, even before my staff has completed their strategic and tactical analysis."
Tatooine…?
Perhaps…?
Palpatine nodded, and a moment later a heavily scarred man standing before a bare backdrop of a nondescript ship's bulkhead appeared above the holoprojector plate. The hologram spoke softly in the raspy voice Palpatine recalled from the Boonta Eve race.
"I am Anakin Skywalker, a native of Tatooine and a former Jedi, once also known as Darth Vader. Sheev Palpatine, for thirty years, you have crushed the galaxy in your grasp. I stand here today to proclaim that your corrupt regime has come to an end. For all that you have done to the people of the galaxy, human and non-human alike, as well as for what you have done to me personally and to those I love, I will tear down everything you have built."
Palpatine clenched his fist around his cane.
There was no mistaking Vader's intent. A direct frontal assault. No hedging. No appeasement. Not even the accustomed address. This was no humble slave, craving forgiveness. This was an Apprentice throwing down the gauntlet to his Master.
"You may have heard that I have already made a beginning," Vader continued. "Not quite two weeks ago, when Tatooine declared its independence, we pledged our allegiance to the Empire and swore to uphold our constitutional obligations. But two days ago, on your orders, Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, in command of a battle station called the Death Star, threatened to destroy our planet unless the government surrendered me to his custody. This in spite of the fact that Governor Tarkin had not even attempted to ascertain whether I was on the planet at the time."
He held up a small disc. "So that the people of the galaxy can understand the full horror of what you ordered, I am releasing a recording of the sensor readings of the firing of a single ignition of this station, accompanied by images of the devastation it caused on the surface of Geonosis. The files also include audio recordings of Tarkin's message. No one who watches the holos should doubt that you would have unleashed such destruction against their own planets if it suited you. By the blessing of the Force, fighter squadrons from the Alliance to Restore the Republic destroyed the station before it could fire.
"Now that we have seen the lengths to which you will go to capture one man, Tatooine will no longer support your corrupt regime. I urge any systems that wish to throw off the yoke of slavery to follow our footsteps across the sands."
Insupportable! His apprentice was inciting open rebellion across the galaxy. And with the destruction of the Death Star, the Empire had no deterrent beyond brute deployment of the Fleet.
Vader leaned forward and lowered his voice confidentially. "This is only the beginning of my retribution, Sheev Palpatine, who calls himself Darth Sidious. The day of reckoning has come. If you cower on Imperial Center, I will wrench the galaxy from you—system by system if necessary—until you rule nothing and no one. If you dare to face me, Master to Apprentice, I will at last fulfill my destiny. Consider this Anakin Skywalker's delayed but just retribution. Or Darth Vader's long-overdue revenge." Some trick of the recording caused Vader's eyes to catch his master's. "You may find me at these coordinates. Skywalker out." A series of numbers replaced the scarred face.
Darth Sidious clutched his cane, knuckles white, gaze riveted on the coordinates. It was worse than he had thought. Vader had destroyed the Death Star and now delivered an open challenge to him, both as Emperor and as Sith Master. True, Vader had ever despised subtlety, yet Sidious had always expected his challenge, when he made it, would be delivered in person. But this!
Palpatine jerked his eyes away from those taunting numbers. "How many people have seen this?"
"A great many, I'm afraid," said Yularen. "It was broadcast on every frequency throughout the Outer and Mid-Rim and simultaneously uploaded to the holonet, along with the accompanying sensor recordings. I immediately ordered the suppression protocol, and all known copies have been removed as of thirty minutes ago. However, so many copies saturated the holonet that it will be impossible to suppress it entirely. It is evident that more copies will be uploaded as fast as we can take them down. No legitimate media outlet will dare to air it, but I doubt that will prevent its spread. I'm afraid the nexu has already escaped, Your Majesty."
It was an obvious trap: the provocative message, the tempting coordinates, the dramatic appeal to the public. Prudence dictated he ignore the bait while laying his own snare for his treacherous apprentice.
Of course, he could simply order the sterilization of the surface of that pitiful refuge of pirates, slaves, and scum; even Vader, one man army though he was, would be helpless against sufficient firepower. But Palpatine would never know for certain that this threat was ended. Vader—or Skywalker—had always been adept at evading traps and surviving impossible odds. If he slipped away, Palpatine might never know until the man's lightsaber sprouted through his solar plexus. He needed absolute assurance that Vader had been eliminated—permanently. And, when he considered the situation pragmatically, only he possessed the power and skills to ensure Vader's death.
The only question was whether to spring Vader's rather clumsy trap or take the time to set his own.
"This message originated from someone unknown on the fringes of the galaxy, Colonel. What would be the effects of simply ignoring it for the time being?"
"I am not a PR expert, Your Majesty, but I doubt the issues it raises will disappear on their own. For one thing, the Rebellion, if they were not somehow already involved in its dissemination, will certainly assist in spreading it. This is an unparalleled PR opportunity for them. Darth Vader himself has defected. I wouldn't be surprised if they use that as a rallying point. And with your declaration a year ago that Vader was dead…"
Palpatine suppressed his urge to throw something. "I see. If I was wrong—or lied to the galaxy—about it…Yes, I see exactly what the Rebellion could do with this."
"But—pardon me—" Vorchenik abruptly became the focus of the combined attention of the Emperor and the Colonel, "but—are you certain this is in fact Lord Vader, Your Majesty?"
"He is no Lord!"
Both officers jumped.
"He has forfeited all right to the title. But, yes, this is Vader." The Emperor eyed the admiral, whom he had forgotten in his absorption with Vader. "Colonel Yularen, arrest Admiral Vorchenik."
Yularen nodded and summoned a stormtrooper detail.
Vorchenik went ashen. "On what charges, Your Majesty? I—I have done nothing illegal—"
"Because I said so." The Emperor ascended the few steps to his desk. "Colonel, you will examine these sensor readings until you discover a reason to charge the admiral. In the meantime, I believe suspicion of negligence will do." Vorchenik opened his mouth to protest, but Palpatine cut him off. "The Death Star was destroyed when you were in command of its defense. Colonel, you will work with Sornhaw to craft a statement about the Admiral's negligence in regard to this matter and my government's urgent efforts to root out the traitors, including Vader, who must have staged his death last year."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Yularen said.
"But—but Moff Tarkin was in command," cried Vorchenik. "I followed orders. I…" His voice faded as the stormtroopers escorted him out of the office.
Palpatine gazed out the broad window and returned his attention to more important matters. He reached for the Dark Side. It was skittish and gave him no clear answers for either present or future. Nevertheless, he sensed possibilities….
He turned back to Yularen. "I need every available piece of information on Vader."
"Of course, Your Majesty. In fact, I was preparing to bring you a report about Lor—about Vader when this broadcast appeared. I received intelligence less than an hour ago from an embedded agent who serves aboard a Rebel carrier. A ship which recently engaged in an operation against an Imperial battle station—almost certainly the Death Star, given the way that his report aligns with the broadcast Sky—Vader just released. The crew were in an uproar after the battle because they had not known in advance that Skywalker was also Vader."
"Interesting. And you think Vader's deception may undercut the effectiveness of the Rebellion's response to the Death Star's destruction?"
Yularen pursed his lips in thought. "I suppose that's possible, but that is not the nub of the information I bring. The agent reported that Vader was returned to the ship in medical distress before the conclusion of the battle, and a young pilot named Luke Stillman was credited with the shot that destroyed the station. Afterward, a rumor swept the ship that the pilot's name is actually Luke Skywalker and that he is the son of the man who commanded the attack."
Palpatine took several quick steps toward the colonel, his brow lowering. "Sky—" He cut off the word.
Yularen shrugged almost imperceptibly. "Whatever his true name, ship's scuttlebutt has it that this Commander Skywalker—or Darth Vader, as it seems—dressed down the young man after the battle for flying underage. The squadron commanders reportedly had bent the rules and allowed the boy and his sister to fly, although they were some days shy of their eighteenth birthday."
Palpatine froze.
A child.
Amidala had, of course, been pregnant. Had died eighteen years ago on the very first Empire Day. What if she had given birth? Was it possible? Was this the key?
Possibilities lurked just beyond his fingertips. The Force tingled peculiarly. This required careful consideration.
Waving a negligent hand in dismissal, he sank slowly into his massive chair before the majestic view of Imperial City at night. His realm. His Empire. The only thing in the universe he cherished. His Apprentice would never wrest it from him. He would preserve it, though the starlanes ran with blood.
He plunged into the Darkness.