Star Wars: Dark Emperor

by Brendon Wahlberg

Part Two: A New Enemy continued

Vader stood silently in an empty hallway of the Death Star. Dim memories of his defeat at Kenobi's hands sent a chill of foreboding through him. There had been a devastating blow that ripped through his defenses, and a fall into searing lava. The memory of that agony gave his hate a keen focus. He had been reborn from that death, reforged in that furnace. Now he would pay his old Master back in kind. The old man appeared from a corridor as if flowing from the shadows. Vader's lightsaber was already glowing redly in his hand.

"I've been waiting for you Obi-Wan. We meet again at last. The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but the learner, now I am the Master."

Kenobi wasted few words, igniting his own saber and taking up a classical offensive position. "Only a master of evil, Darth."

With that, they were upon each other, trading lightening-fast blows. This was an elegant combat between two masters. Each strike was carefully controlled, and the warriors spun with an economy of motion that belied the complexity of their attacks. Kenobi seemed suddenly to be under increasing strain, as though an invisible weight were pressing down upon him. He shook his head and blinked, trying to clear his eyes.

"Your powers are weak, old man," Vader taunted, aware that the promise of the Emperor was being fulfilled. Palpatine was somehow able to cloud Kenobi's mind at this distance. He had grown strong indeed!

Kenobi seemed to come to terms with his fate at that moment, and he serenely said, "You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." Angered at Kenobi's calmness, Vader struck more wildly, slicing into the corridor walls. The two warriors, failed teacher and fallen Jedi, moved next to blast doors leading to the hangar that housed the captured freighter that Kenobi had arrived in. Vader could see the guards running to his defense, and he knew that Kenobi would indeed meet his death in moments, one way or another. Suddenly, across the hangar, a motley crew of Rebels and droids made a break for the freighter, taking advantage of the Stormtroopers' distraction. Kenobi spared the Rebels a glance, and seemed to come to a decision. He lifted his sword away from Vader's and closed his eyes. Without hesitation, Vader sliced his old Master cleanly in half. The empty cloak fell to the deck, followed a second later by the old man's lightsaber.

Vader probed the cloak with a booted foot, conflicting feelings of triumph and fear filling him. A fierce firefight had erupted in the hangar. Vader stood calmly as his troops were cut down. The blast doors shut suddenly, leaving Vader alone in the silent corridor. Vader strode to a comm panel to inform Tarkin that Kenobi was dead. He would pass on the Emperor's instructions that the other Rebels were to be allowed to escape. A homing beacon had been hidden aboard their ship, and they could easily be followed to the Rebel base itself.

There was a muffled roar from behind the doors as the freighter made a fast takeoff and plunged out into space. Vader picked up Kenobi's lightsaber, and hooked it to his belt. The Emperor would want it for his collection. Kenobi's ending left him feeling strangely hollow. Somehow he sensed that, despite all appearances, the conflict between Kenobi and himself was not over at all.

Once again, Vader knelt before the image of his Master. "It is done, my friend," the Emperor soothed. "Kenobi has become one with the light side forever. His spirit will fade and be gone. There was no possible anchor to hold him. You have done well, my servant. The last of the Jedi died today."

"I saw his face, my Master," Vader replied cautiously. "He did not have the look of one who has lost his battle."

"It is nothing," the Emperor assured him. "merely the false pride of an old man. I shall leave you now, my servant. I must become one with the Force to prepare for my rejuvenation. Go now, and do my bidding. When you see me next, I will have triumphed over this frail flesh."

Vader arose, intoning with satisfaction, "The Rebellion shall meet the same end as Kenobi."

Palpatine was at one with the Force. His body rested in his bed, beside the softly glowing Holocron. That body had come near to the end of its usefulness. Soon, the destruction of another world would fill him with strength. He would will his own death at that moment, becoming absolutely at one with the dark side, existing as formless energy. He would bring that power to his new body, transforming it into an indestructible thing, the perfect vessel for his new level of dark side mastery. The main problem with the clones was that they were copies, one step removed from the protecting energies of the force. Thus they were more vulnerable to the depredations of the dark side. But now he thought he could remake his body, literally rebuilding it out of dark side energy, using one of the clones as a template. With such a body, he would be the dark side, and nothing would be able to stop him. His spirit trembled, even as his body lay in a trance. The moment was approaching.

Across the galaxy, the Death Star was about to come within firing range of the fourth moon of Yavin, a jungle world that teemed with life. The Rebels on the moon had put up a fight, of course, but all they had to throw against the station were a few dozen antiquated one-man snub fighters. It was pathetic. But then, the Emperor well understood the weakness of inferiors.

Vader was in his own prototype fighter, leading his TIE wingmen against the X-wings, indulging in target practice on the inexperienced Rebel pilots. Tarkin waited confidently in the command center, not even thinking it necessary to send out the swarms of fighters that were his to deploy. It was hard to get a clear sense of what was happening through all the chaotic emotions filling the area. Rebel pilots screamed in terror as Vader's laser bolts inexorably found their targets. Imperial troops milled in confusion as Rebel attacks blew apart surface installations. Gunners radiated excited concentration as they wielded their powerful turbolasers against the darting Rebel ships. The Emperor savored all these feelings.

But on the command deck, calm reigned, and Palpatine was able to focus on the Grand Moff. Tarkin turned as his aide announced, "Rebel base, thirty seconds and closing." Grim satisfaction radiated from the Grand Moff. Palpatine shared his feeling. This was the fruition of long-cherished plans.

The seconds ticked by. Racing across the Death Star surface, Vader was closing on the last few Rebel ships. The Emperor sensed his servant's determination, but knew it would all be academic in a few seconds.

"The Death Star has cleared the planet," came the announcement at last.

"You may fire when ready," said Tarkin crisply.

"Commence primary ignition," pronounced Tarkin's aide. The Death Star's prime weapon roared to life, preparing to deal death in an instant. Palpatine readied himself for the transition, opening himself fully to the Force. At that moment, an unexpected spark came alight in the darkness - someone was using the light side of the Force! It was impossible, but unmistakable. The Emperor's mind reeled with sudden confusion, but it was too late to change anything.

"Stand by," the words filtered through the energy waves building around Palpatine's body.

"Stand by."

The last thing Palpatine sensed was the Grand Moff Tarkin's crystal clear feeling of triumph. Then the Emperor's body was torn asunder, erupting in cold blue fire. His spirit went plummeting into a fathomless abyss that was everywhere and nowhere. But instead of the incredible strength he expected to feel, there was devastating loss. Something had happened to cast a pall of horrible weakness over the whole of the dark side. His essence wailing in dismay, Palpatine fought to reach his clone body, pouring into it with a desperate lunge. His new eyes shot open, and even as he choked out the nutrient solution that filled his mouth and throat, he reached out with the Force. What he felt, or did not feel, filled him with rage. The Death Star was gone as if it had never existed. His own senses and abilities were noticeably diminished. His new body was young and strong, of course, but he felt like he was touching the Force with gloves on. He fell to his knees as the vat door slid up and away. The able hands of Constable Mon reached out to steady him, but he pushed them aside. He was trembling with hate. Someone would pay for this outrage! The whole galaxy would pay. And first to suffer would be those who had failed him.

By the time night fell on Byss, the five moons shining beautifully on the ornate towers and sprawling complexes of the Imperial Control Sector, the HoloNet had delivered the awful details of what had happened at Yavin. The dread Death Star had been vaporized by a single shot from a Rebel X-wing. The pilot had hit a thermal exhaust port with a proton torpedo, against impossible odds. The Dark Lord of the Sith was reported missing or dead. The base on Yavin was untouched, and worst of all, news of what had happened was being spread throughout the galaxy by the cursed Rebels. Alliance propaganda touted the genocide at Alderaan and the destruction of the Death Star as final proof of the Empire's tyranny and the Alliance's cause as freedom fighters. This would have little effect on the firmly held inner systems, but the outlying regions might be swayed. The time for retribution was now.

Palpatine blamed the defeat at Yavin on the incompetence of his officers. It was fortunate for those who had served on the Death Star that they were dead. The designer of the battle station, Bevel Lemelisk, would soon wish that he was dead with them. There must be a greater military buildup than ever before. Rebellious worlds would be snuffed out. He did not need a Death Star to reduce a planet to rubble. The new Super Star Destroyers would suffice. There would be a sweeping shakeup in the command structure of the Imperial forces. He needed someone he could trust implicitly in command. Someone ruthless and absolutely loyal to him. Someone of the highest competence. He needed Darth Vader.

But first he would have to find the Dark Lord. Palpatine knew his servant was not dead. He would have felt it. Somehow Vader had survived, perhaps by escaping in his fighter before the station had erupted. So for several hours, the Emperor searched the space around Yavin. The Death Star continued to burn. Vast sections of radioactive wreckage formed a loosely held together orbiting graveyard, littered with incinerated, flash-frozen corpses. Slowly, the gravity of the gas giant would claim the remains, swallowing them without a trace. Not a spark of life remained.

No! There was something, very faint...In a decaying orbit, a crippled fighter with curved wings floated, dark. Within it, Vader was in a hibernation trance, conserving the minimal remaining life support. Immediately, Palpatine contacted his agents in the fleet and directed an assault shuttle from the new Yavin blockade to rescue Vader. Within a few days, Vader would once again stand before him, ready to do his dark bidding throughout the galaxy.

Vader and the Emperor were alone in the throne room on Coruscant. Strong and commanding in his youthful body, Palpatine stood over his kneeling servant. The Sith Lord was full of anger, humiliation, and a sense of failure. He clearly expected to be punished.

"Rise, Lord Vader," said the Emperor in ringing tones. Vader rose to regard his Master with bowed head. Palpatine was clad in a severe black uniform with the Imperial symbol at his breast, and over that, a flowing cape with a high flaring collar. Vader towered over his Master, as if to give the lie to their relative authorities. The Emperor's face was now unlined and full of regal assurance. Vader's face was forever hidden behind a grotesque mask meant to inspire fear. But it was Vader who felt the fear as he awaited his judgment.

"Tell me of what happened," said Palpatine, his voice calm.

"The Rebels escaped," Vader replied, "leading us to their base as planned. As we began to orbit Yavin, they came out to meet us in one-man fighters. It seemed the last defense of people who fully expected to die. I instructed tactical to do an analysis of their attack. When I saw that their target was the equatorial trench, I realized that these were not suicidal madmen. They were desperate, but they had a plan. I ordered the Grand Moff Tarkin informed and mobilized my personal TIE fighter squadron. Several fighters broke away from the main group and flew into the trench. I pursued them with two wingmen. We destroyed several ships, and one Rebel fired on a thermal exhaust port, proving my theory correct, but the shot was too difficult. Tarkin did not send out reinforcements, but by then there were less than five Rebel ships left."

Vader paused. The source of his shame was to be told next. The Emperor simply prompted him, "Go on."

"Three X-wings made a final attempt. I destroyed one ship, and the second was damaged and fled. We closed on the leader. He was an uncanny pilot, and my targeting computer lost its lock again and again." Vader stared full into the face of his Master. "It was then that I felt the impossible. The pilot was using the Force and it was strong in him. Then I knew that what had seemed folly was great cleverness on the part of the Rebels. A Force user, I knew, could make the shot. No wonder the Rebels had designed this strategy, with such a one among them. I fired again when I had a lock, but somehow my shots only hit his droid. I felt the presence of Obi-Wan, trying to interfere with me, but he was too late. The Death Star was ready to fire. The Rebel pilot must have stopped focusing on evasion because all at once my targeting computer had a firm lock. But at that instant, as if ordained by the Force, my attack was broken." Filled with anger, Vader had to stop for a moment. The repetitive sound of his mechanized breathing was the only sign of life within his rigid armor.

"That accursed freighter dove at us in a collision course. One wingman was shot down, and the other panicked, striking my ship and ending my defense of the Death Star. Out of control, I spun into space. The next thing I knew, the Death Star was gone and over a million Imperial lives were lost." Vader waited, seeming to prepare himself for his Master's response.

"Your thoughts are focused on how I will punish you," Palpatine said. Vader stiffened even more. "You think you failed to save my battle station. Perhaps I will cut off your hand...that would be a fitting payment for your failure, don't you think?"

Vader's mind reeled in sudden confusion. He wasn't sure he had heard his Master correctly. Both of his arms and hands were prosthetic, and losing them would only mean that the cybernetic specialists would have to replace them. It was no punishment at all.

The Emperor spoke into the silence to reassure his servant. "I do not blame you for what happened, Lord Vader. If Governor Tarkin had treated the attack with proper seriousness and deployed the Death Star's fighter defenses, that freighter could not have gotten through. I cannot punish him for that, but I can punish others in the command structure. I want them all to hear the rumor that even you were a victim of my wrath. For if you are not safe from my anger...then who is? As for the Force user you sensed...he is of little concern. Obi-Wan Kenobi obviously engineered the whole thing. His cowardly death was a distraction to allow his pilot to escape. But that is as far as it goes. This debacle was a freak event. An untrained whelp can be no threat to us, now that we are prepared. There will be a new Death Star, my servant. While it is under construction, I shall assemble the greatest strike fleet ever known. It shall contain the first of the new Super Star Destroyers and you shall command it. Your duty will be to hunt down and destroy the Rebel Alliance. I know you will not fail, my faithful servant." The Emperor smiled benevolently, but Vader was still clearly troubled.

"I have not told you the worst of it," the Dark Lord said. "Kenobi's plans ran deep. I told you that I felt the Force in the pilot, but I also knew at that moment that the boy was my son."

Palpatine was incredulous. Sudden fury radiated from him. "Son?! I never knew Skywalker had a son! What treachery is this?"

Vader immediately fell to his knees. "I did not know myself. But I could not be mistaken. I believe Kenobi raised him hoping to present a threat to us."

"Well his plans have failed," the Emperor grated, glowering at the ebony helmet before him. "He will never become a Jedi. We ensured that when we destroyed Kenobi. He did not foresee his own end. This changes nothing. We shall find and crush the Rebels as planned."

"Yes, my Master." Vader hesitated. "Even so, I wish to find him and put an end to him. It does not make sense to ignore even a small threat. Surely...this is the lesson of the Death Star."

Palpatine considered Vader. There was some very subtle difference in him, feelings running just beyond Palpatine's reach. But the Dark Lord had been through a great deal recently. It was surely only the strain affecting him. Palpatine spoke firmly. "Young Skywalker, if that is his name, can be no threat to our might. But he is no doubt with the Rebels, and if you wish to destroy him, you may do so when you crush the Alliance. Now go, and work my will."

Vader arose and left, black cape billowing. Palpatine put his momentary unease aside. He could trust Vader implicitly, for Vader was entirely his, body and soul. The spirit of Anakin Skywalker was as lost as the very limbs of the cyborged giant who went out to plan the Empire's revenge.