Star Wars: Dark Emperor

by Brendon Wahlberg

Part Two: A New Enemy

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

As the Galactic Emperor finds a way to immortality, a galaxy in the throes of civil war faces death on a gigantic scale. A new battle station, capable of destroying an entire planet, ensures that the Empire will rule by fear.

Palpatine is secure in his belief that he has no enemies left to threaten him. But on an obscure rim world, the son of the Emperor's greatest servant is stepping onto the galactic stage.

Guided by the force, Luke Skywalker carries the power to throw the Emperor's meticulous plans into chaos...

Palpatine was the undisputed Master of the whole galaxy, and he had no enemies left. His piercing yellow eyes gazed from a face mostly hidden by a deep black hood. What could be seen of that visage was severely etched with age, the eyes sunken into cavernous sockets surrounded by withered, mottled skin. The forehead seemed oddly misshapen, and the mouth was a rictus filled with ragged nubs of teeth. But that mouth was set in a wicked grin, and the eyes burned with a hungry fire.

There were some, of course, who thought of themselves as his enemies. The irritating Mon Mothma and Bail Organa, for example. This was their foolish conceit. They were nothing, as were the pitiful insurrectionists who had of late been calling themselves the "Alliance." To the most powerful dark side Master who ever lived, these were not enemies. The Jedi, weak-willed practitioners of the impotent side of the Force, were dead and gone. Knowing that they could have threatened him, Palpatine had unleashed his Dark Lord of the Sith to hunt them down. As if to prove their inferiority, many of the Jedi had practically set their necks to the blade. Disheartened by the fall of the Republic, they had not even resisted. A few fought or ran, only to be overcome by the brute force of Imperial technology and the relentless, merciless pursuit of Palpatine's servant, the fallen Jedi, Darth Vader. The bravest had brought the fight to his own doorstep; these Palpatine had personally annihilated. The Purge had taken a great deal of effort, but with the Jedi exterminated, Emperor Palpatine had no enemies left.

Anyone seeing Palpatine in his private meditation chamber, deep inside the Emperor's Citadel on the dark side world of Byss, would have noticed the frail manner in which the ruler of known space clutched at his gnarled walking stick, and concluded that this man did indeed have an enemy - death itself. But he would be wrong. Palpatine felt death approaching. It felt like it had the first time, and although this was going to be his second death, it was impossible to become accustomed to such a thing. There was the sense that the very fabric of his tissues would soon be torn apart by the energies he daily channeled through them. He knew that if he were to die in truth, and lose his last physical form, he would be forever lost within the howling chaos of the dark side itself. It would claim him for its own as he had claimed the galaxy. Here on Byss, however, Palpatine could laugh at death. For he sat a stone's throw from his clone vat chamber, where a dozen clones floated suspended in nutrient tanks. He had come to Byss to die. And to be reborn.

The Emperor would erupt in blue energy, leaving a shattered shell behind. Then, thanks to his knowledge of cloning, and dark side lore from the Holocron of Ashka and Vantos Boda, he would enter one of his own mature clones. When he opened his new eyes, he would have a strong, young body once more. The dying was painful, and the transition unpleasant to be sure, but a little suffering was a small price to be paid for immortality. The very thought of his new body made his grin widen, and a dreadful cackle emerged from deep within his throat. Most people who heard that laugh immediately found good reasons to be elsewhere.

The Emperor's Grand Vizier, Sate Pestage, was merely used to it. Pestage stood waiting silently at the threshold of the small room, still as a statue. He had come to confer with his Master, but he would not emit a whisper until the dark and glorious one acknowledged him. Pestage was a wizened figure of a man with ancient, craggy features. In some ways, he seemed older than the Emperor, and his emaciated form was lost in his voluminous bejeweled robes. Nonetheless, Pestage was tireless in his service to the Emperor, and acted as his personal assistant in all things. He prepared meals, managed affairs, and scheduled the day's events. Now Pestage simply stared at his Master's decrepit form in sorrow. Pestage may have been old, but he had an aura of stubborn health around him. Palpatine radiated only decay.

It pained Sate Pestage to see the dark one thus diminished. His Master's discovery of a way to cheat a premature death had been a great relief to Pestage, but then they had learned the harsh truth that the new body would only last a few short years. Already it was time to take another. Pestage gave silent thanks to the Force that the citizenry of the Empire did not see their sovereign this way. To the rest of the galaxy, Palpatine was a middle aged, charismatic figure with a commanding presence. Of course, this image was the product of the finest holo-technology. When he was thus afflicted by the aging, the Emperor did not make public appearances, delegating the day-to-day running of the Empire to his most trusted advisors, such as Chief Advisor Ars Dangor. Dangor made all the public addresses and Pestage acted as an intermediary in all communications with the Emperor. Only a tiny handful of beings saw Palpatine as he really was, beings such as Darth Vader, the Sith Lord, and Mara Jade, the Emperor's Hand. It was a strange affliction to deal with, to be sure. Aside from his trusted inner circle, no one must see the impossible changes in the Emperor's appearance. His mastery of the Force had to be kept a secret from the Empire as a whole. This led to some odd situations. Sometimes, Palpatine had to use a personal holographic projector to disguise his sudden great youth, or great age. For example, Bevel Lemelisk, the designer of the Death Star, had seen the Emperor in his aged state. After Palpatine's rebirth, he would have to meet with Lemelisk while holographically concealing his youth. Helping to maintain these deceptions was one of the ways in which Pestage faithfully served his Master.

Palpatine slowly turned to face the Grand Vizier. "What is it, my friend," he said quietly, beckoning to Pestage. The galactic ruler had a voice full of eerie sibilance that would seem appropriate issuing from a sepulcher. That voice, Pestage knew, could change from gleeful satisfaction to blackest menace in the space of a moment. Now it was calm, almost gentle. "Is the proclamation prepared as I have ordered it?"

Pestage took a step into the room, robes whispering, and held out an ornamental datapad. On its small screen, a short paragraph was illumined.

His Imperial Majesty has decreed that the current emergency involving armed terrorists spreading death and destruction throughout the galaxy requires the temporary institution of martial law. The regional governors will now have direct control over their territories, allowing them to take the necessary steps to put a swift end to these cowardly and criminal attacks that threaten the families of every law-abiding citizen.

For the duration of the crisis, the Imperial Senate will be in recess. Reports that criminal activities have been supported by members of the Senate are being fully investigated. Rest assured that the terrorists will soon be brought to justice, and stability will reign throughout the galaxy.

The Emperor finished reading and nodded in satisfaction. This proclamation would complete his New Order. There would be no "recess," of course. With the disbanding of the Senate, the last vestige of the "Old Republic" would be expunged. No political opposition to the New Order would be possible. The impassioned speeches of Senators such as Leia Organa could influence public opinion, and those voices must be silenced. Mon Mothma had brought this on herself, giving Palpatine the perfect excuse. She had gone too far, openly declaring against him and then orchestrating the theft of the data on project Death Star. Vader was even now on a mission to recover that information. Mothma was beyond reach for now, but at least her accomplices in the Senate could be stripped of power. One day, though, the Emperor mused, he would find her...and teach her the true meaning of fear.

The proclamation also formalized the Tarkin Doctrine. Now, each system would be kept under control through fear, a potent weapon indeed. The Death Star had been completed in the Horuz system and was very nearly operational; it would soon become the symbol of the New Order. When Palpatine next opened his eyes in the clone vat chamber, they would gaze upon a galaxy totally under Imperial power.

"You've done well, Sate Pestage. The phrasing is excellent as usual. Let Ars Dangor make any revisions he feels necessary, and make this proclamation public as soon as possible." The Emperor grinned blackly and handed back the datapad. He moved to sit in his throne like chair with some difficulty. "I will not make any more decisions until after I am young again."

Pestage nodded.

Palpatine pointed a crooked finger at him. "I wish nothing to disturb my meditations. I must have peace for the transition. When my time is near, I shall call on you to assist in my preparations."

Sate Pestage bowed deeply. "Yes, my Master," he intoned, and quietly left the Emperor's chamber. Moving through the labyrinthine halls of the Citadel, Pestage reflected that he was a free man for the next several days. His Master's meditations were trance-like, and Palpatine neither ate nor carried out any activities, weakening himself to the point where he could simply will the transition. Pestage would help his Master to his bed, then leave him in complete isolation for that most private of experiences.

The Grand Vizier did not pretend to understand the workings of the Force, but he knew his life would be empty without the glory of his Master to light his universe. Even to be away from him for a few days made Pestage feel a little hollow. Perhaps he would visit the combat arena as a diversion. There was a fight to the death between a Wookiee and a Gundark this afternoon. Perhaps. But he would stay close to the Citadel, just in case he was needed.

Palpatine was at one with the Force. His frail physical form was left behind, and his mind roamed the galaxy. His galaxy. He could feel its life and death energies, and through his connection to the dark side, he could savor the strength that was his reward for service. For the Emperor himself was only a servant. All of Palpatine's efforts were directed towards the creation of a galaxy where the emotions of a thousand million worlds would feed the dark side with anger, fear, and aggression. He called it his Dark Empire to be. Certainly, he loved the personal power he received as the foremost user of the dark side, and he had every intention of holding that power eternally. Together, he and the dark side would rule every living being.

Fundamentally, the dark side was chaos, entropy, a destructive force ever held in balance against the light side. But the dark side hungered for dominance, and Palpatine gave it a chance to have that. He had no illusions; the dark side would consume him, too, if he let it, but that would never happen. He would serve it for always, and everything else would serve him.

Through the Force, the Emperor could communicate with others such as Vader across huge distances, though he sometimes preferred to use the holotransmitter for the way it created a huge image of his form to intimidate the viewer. Often, he could "see" what was happening where he turned his mental gaze, an ability which had given him a huge advantage during his rise to power.

Now he sent his mind in search of the Death Star, and the familiar presence of his servant. By now, Vader should have recovered the Death Star technical data and returned to the battle station to act as the Emperor's representative. Tarkin had been given a free hand in using the Death Star, but anyone with power needed watching, no matter how loyal. Vader made an excellent watcher, and in turn, he was watched by his Master.

It was with some surprise that he located the Death Star in orbit around the jewel-like world of Alderaan. He could "see" the enormous sphere floating against the starry blackness of space. The Emperor was not in awe of any technology. As he had so often told Vader, the Force was the true power in the universe. But he did find the Death Star to be beautiful. It was merely a means to an end, but it was a lovely and impressive means to an end.

Palpatine sent his mind into the station, reaching out for Vader while keeping his servant unaware of his presence. Vader was in the command center, with Tarkin and the young Senator (former Senator now, he reminded himself) Leia Organa. It took an extra effort to focus on Vader, since there seemed to be a strange echo of the Dark Lord's mental signature present. The strain of the approaching transition was evidently beginning to take its toll on him, leaving his Force senses impaired, Palpatine decided. After a moment, Palpatine adjusted, and could view the proceedings with more clarity.

Tarkin began to speak, with a crisp superiority. "Princess Leia, before your execution I would like you to be my guest at a ceremony that will make this battle station operational. No star system will dare oppose the Emperor now." Palpatine felt that he had chosen Tarkin well. Another man might have his own power in mind, rather than the Emperor's. Palpatine wondered what young Senator Organa had done to deserve execution.

Now Organa spoke back with a haughty defiance evident in her stance and tone. "The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers."

Palpatine smiled. Anyone could speak with defiance when they didn't see quite how much trouble they were in; Tarkin was holding back something devastating. Now, with a horrible politeness, he decided to reveal it to her. "Not after we demonstrate the power of this station. In a way, you have determined the choice of the planet that'll be destroyed first. Since you are reluctant to provide us with the location of the Rebel base, I have chosen to test this station's destructive power...on your home planet of Alderaan."

Palpatine felt the shock in the young woman. So, she was a Rebel agent! It was more proof that he was right to disband the Senate; it had become a viper's nest of Rebels. Curiously, he also felt shock in Vader. His servant did not like this development. But what of it? What was the Death Star for, after all? Through the influence of Bail Organa, Alderaan had become a hotbed of sedition. Better to have it gone.

Organa had begun to babble futile protests. "No! Alderaan is peaceful. We have no weapons. You can't possibly-"

But Tarkin let the mask of civility drop. Beneath it was the face of the Imperial War Machine, cold, hard, and merciless. "You would prefer another target? A military target? Then name the system!" He moved menacingly towards her, and she retreated, only to come up against Lord Vader. Tarkin spoke in a low voice. "I grow tired of asking this. So it'll be the last time. Where is the Rebel base?"

"Dantooine," Organa seemed to crumble. "They're on Dantooine."

"There, you see Lord Vader, she can be reasonable," Tarkin gloated. "Continue with the operation. You may fire when ready."

"What?" shouted Organa.

Tarkin let his amusement show. "You're far too trusting. Dantooine is far too remote to make an effective demonstration. But don't worry. We will deal with your Rebel friends soon enough."

"No!" protested Organa, but it was, of course, too late. The Death Star gunners efficiently prepared the prime weapon to fire. Palpatine held his breath as immense beams of force emerged from the Death Star's superlaser, joining to form one awesome shaft that stabbed once at the core of the planet Alderaan. But he never saw the explosion of the planet, for at that moment, a stunning and wholly unexpected surge of power hit the Emperor like a tidal wave, washing away all conscious thought. In his private chamber in the Imperial Citadel on Byss, Emperor Palpatine lay prone on the cold floor, limned in dark fire, his yellow eyes burning like twin suns.