[Short Stories] - Dark Emperor 1

It is a dark time for the galaxy. The ruthless Emperor Palpatine has established a Galactic Empire upon the ashes of the Old Republic and destroyed the Jedi Knights.

But the ruling master of the dark side is dying. If an infant rebellion has no chance to end his crushing reign, death itself waits for a final victory.

The Dark Emperor also faces threats from his past. The Sith Lord who serves him covets his throne and a jedi once thought dead has resurfaced to claim a brutal vengeance.

***

It was in the hanging gardens of the Imperial Palace that Lord Darth Vader first spotted the face of the Jedi Knight he had once killed. His sighting of Ashka Boda happened purely by accident. As a rule, the Dark Lord never came to the oppressively green and humid area, where every step he took meant brushing clinging fronds away from his black durasteel mask. He was there against his will, at the Emperor’s command, leading three Ho’Din master botanists on a tour of all the Palace gardens.

In contrast to Vader, the aliens were in their element; the Ho’Din loved to be surrounded by plants. On their homeworld, they created huge and beautiful gardens containing plants found nowhere else in the galaxy. They had come to Imperial Center to negotiate a trade for new rare plants to take home, in exchange for plant-derived medicines only they could supply. The plant species they wanted were rare because of the Emperor Palpatine’s admittedly aggressive colonization policies. The only surviving examples of many important organisms now grew in the Emperor’s gardens, after the destruction of their original ecosystems. Vader knew that his Master would take the Ho’Din’s stock in trade from them by force, if he could. However, only the green reptilian Ho’Din themselves knew how to extract the wonder drugs from their environment.

As a result of his unwanted duty, Vader was in a foul mood. He glared up at the slender, rubbery aliens, trying to put some fear into their dark, bulging eyes and their wide, lipless mouths. But the botanists remained as expressionless as Vader’s mask. Their violet-scaled, snake like tresses squirmed incessantly as they stared over Vader at the bountiful flora around them. Vader seethed inside, finding it intolerable that the visiting aliens towered a full meter over his head. It was frustrating to lose the advantage of height that he usually enjoyed. No doubt that was part of the reason for the Emperor’s assignment that Vader guide the Ho’Din. The Emperor, a short man, usually made Vader kneel; now Vader understood how he felt. Another reason for the assignment was probably a simple reminder of who was in authority, that even the Dark Lord of the Sith was subject to Palpatine’s whims.

Vader looked around for an experienced garden supervisor, upon whom he could pass off the pointing, chattering botanists with their unceasing flow of comments and questions. He simply did not know the answers to most of their inquiries, and he reasoned that if he could find someone who did, he could entice them into letting him go without word of it getting back to the Emperor. If he had to respond to another question about this genetically altered herb, or that unusual sweet-smelling moss, he thought he might indulge in a little display of the power of the Force.

It was at that moment that he saw the Jedi. In the middle distance, coming around a vine covered wall, was an older, mostly bald man, wearing a loose brown sleeveless robe. He froze for a long moment as he made sudden eye contact with the Dark Lord. Vader’s visual enhancement system zoomed in on the man’s face. The Jedi had squinting slate gray eyes, surrounded by wrinkles and shadowed by his sun baked brow. His mouth was open in surprise below his sharp, straight nose. Only a few wisps of white hair remained at the sides of his head. His large, rough hands clutched at his soil stained clothes as he stared back at Vader with equal intensity.

Then the Jedi bolted and ran, disappearing into the foliage in an instant. Vader did not react immediately; he was too surprised. He knew the man he had just seen, thus he was certain that the man should have been dead. Dead at Vader’s own hands. The man’s name had been Ashka Boda, and he had been one of the Jedi that Vader had personally slain during the great Purge well over a decade ago.

It was a truth he kept only to himself: Vader recognized Ashka Boda because he remembered the face of every Jedi he had killed. He had memorized each face so he would never forget the price that was paid to win Palpatine’s vision of a New Order for the future…the price of his former Jedi brothers’ lives. In fact, he could even dimly recall the pain he had felt at the time, as he killed each Jedi Knight. But it was a distant memory, viewed through a hardened soul, and the sight of Ashka Boda caused him no fresh pain. Of all the emotions he might have felt at seeing one of the Jedi returned from the dead, his one cold feeling was that he had unfinished business to resolve. Even during the Purge, he had been able to bury his feelings under the conviction that Palpatine’s promised order was needed, that the Jedi were fools to oppose it and to support the corrupt Old Republic. The killings were necessary combat. He had given each opponent a chance to join the Master and live. He had dueled each Knight fairly when they invariably refused. None had been his match. All of them had died. And Ashka Boda had been among the dead, Vader was sure.