After walking for several minutes, Vantos reached the ornate entryway to the assemblage auditorium where the Emperor listened to petitions and made decrees to large seated gatherings. A quick extension of his Force senses told him what he needed to know. The Emperor was there. Boda felt his presence like a bloated black storm cloud gathering in the distance. He winced at the level of power he sensed there. Why could I not have killed you as a child? he lamented to himself.
He knew the throne room was a cavernous auditorium, with the throne on the lowest level, which was reached by descending in a single turbolift. The spectators sat on the various levels of audience decks, which were rows above rows of platforms containing thousands of benches. These decks were entered via a multitude of doorways, according to rank and social status, with the most important people sitting on the lowest levels, closest to the Emperor. Vantos decided to avoid the turbolift, and entered the doorway to the lowest audience deck; he was, he decided, a very important person on this night. After taking the stairs and emerging onto the deck, he paused among the marble benches. About ten meters below him, the Emperor’s throne sat at the top of a stepped platform at the far end of the immense room. Behind the throne, a wheel shaped Imperial symbol was carved into the wall. Above the Emperor’s seat, a prism poured a rainbow of light down from the ceiling. The throne itself levitated above the dais, and in it was seated the Galactic Emperor.
Palpatine was all robed in black, with a hood that hid his face. His voice emerged from the hood as a sharp near-whisper, but the perfect acoustics of the room carried it clearly all the way to Vantos. “Welcome, Jedi,” said the Emperor. “I have been expecting you. We have much to discuss, you and I, concerning your purported immortality.”
So, thought Boda, that is why I am so interesting to the Emperor. It is not every Jedi who comes back from the dead.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you also,” replied Vantos. “I’ve waited a very long time for it, in fact. But I should tell you right now, that I’m not here to talk. I’ve come to kill you…Espaa Pestage.”
Palpatine rose from his throne and partly cast back his hood, his teeth clenched in rage. “How did you learn that name?!” he demanded. The colors of the spectrum played on his pale face and tight fists. He was suddenly off balance, his former confidence marred. No one was supposed to know of his childhood name. The Emperor himself only vaguely remembered his origins, because they meant little to him as the chosen servant of the dark side. His true origin had come at the moment of that choosing. Yet, somehow this Jedi had intimate knowledge of him, and sounded certain of what he knew. Palpatine’s didn’t even allow his own biological father to be so certain. When, as President of the Republic, Palpatine was approached by the aging Sate Pestage, he had accepted Pestage’s offer of service to him. He had never expected anyone to discover his origins, but because Pestage had, it was important to keep him close by. Unexpectedly, the old man had no motivation aside from service, and he eventually became Palpatine’s trusted Grand Vizier. But their relationship was never acknowledged. There was no place for it in Palpatine’s life. The old man had unobtrusively tried to find proof that Palpatine was his son, but he had failed utterly. The Emperor had buried his past too well.
The intruder seemed calm. “I’ll explain it to you, Highness,” he said. “We have time.”
“You have only as much time as I decide!” snapped the Emperor. “You were a fool to come here. Now your life is in my hands, and I have already personally destroyed a hundred like you.”
“Oh, surely not exactly like me, Espaa. I’m not a simple Jedi like they were,” replied the intruder slowly. He was keeping his distance at the far side of the room, one level above. Palpatine sensed that the man might be playing for time. He decided to allow that. He wanted to converse with the man for as long as possible. If matters erupted into a fight, the intruder might not survive to be interrogated. Any information he could extract without torture was desirable to the Emperor.
“Then tell me, Ashka Boda,” said Palpatine in a low voice, “what kind of Jedi are you?”
“Let’s start with my name, Highness. It’s not Ashka, it’s Vantos. Ashka was my brother.”
“And my name, Vantos Boda, is Palpatine. You may call me Master for the time that remains to you.”
“I beg to differ, Highness, because I know otherwise. You see, I’ve come close to destroying you in the past, when you were just a child. Your name was Espaa then, no matter what you changed it to.” Vantos strolled closer, moving slowly, keeping a row of solid marble chair backs in front of him. He was peering down at Palpatine. “I also think, Emperor, that time has not been kind to you. You are a long way from the boy I tried to kill. I wonder if your health is satisfactory?”