There was also the more subtle issue of Ashka Boda’s mysterious survival of death. Vader was well aware that the secret of immortality was of great interest to his Master. The reason was as plain as the Emperor’s withered face. Palpatine’s flesh was twisted and sagging around his devious eyes and his hateful mouth full of blackened teeth. The dark side of the Force gave great power, it was true, but as time went on, and the Emperor needed more and more of that power, the price he physically paid for it became higher and higher. Vader, too, had paid a price for his use of the dark side, but as his power was less, so was the cost. He never looked at his face anymore, but he was sure it was nowhere near as ravaged as his Master’s. Vader’s true price had been the loss of his body and his humanity—his imprisonment in a black durasteel shell. In the last year, Palpatine’s deterioration had become extreme. Looking at the Emperor, Vader could tell that the ruler of the galaxy was dying. If there was any secret of defying death to be found, Palpatine would surely want it.
Vader had had to weigh this fact when he decided to contact the Emperor. He knew that not informing his Master might bring costly punishments. On the other hand, it was not in Vader’s best interests to serve an immortal Emperor. Palpatine had promised an order for the galaxy that Vader had believed in, and fought for. That promised future was now, and Vader’s frank assessment was that the promise had been broken. The Empire that had arisen to replace the Old Republic brought more chaos than it did order. There was too much destructive conflict, by far, to suit Vader. The Dark Lord never let any of these thoughts leak out to his Master…they were far too dangerous. Palpatine must never know that Vader held closely guarded desires to take over the Empire and correct its course. If he knew, Vader would die.
The Emperor’s physical decline had given Vader hope that the throne would be vacant before long. It would be an easy solution…and there could be a smooth transition to Vader as Emperor. However, the potential knowledge of Ashka Boda threatened that hope. Vader had already decided that Boda had to die. How and when would depend on how the Emperor played things. Vader forced himself to be patient and to wait for his chance to destroy Boda and his secrets.
For now, Palpatine was giving his reply. “You’ve done well, Lord Vader, to bring this to my attention. Come to the private audience chamber tonight, and we will speak of our plans to deal with this Jedi. Until then, my friend,” said the Emperor with a sudden fatherly smile. The hologram faded away, leaving Vader alone.
Vader stood in satisfaction. So, the contest began. The Sith Lord vowed that he, personally, would decide where it ended.
In his meditation chamber, Darth Vader prepared himself, body and soul, for the trial to come. Advanced biomonitors fine-tuned his vital functions and adjusted his body chemistry for maximum endurance and energy. His bionic systems enjoyed a recharge, while the direct neural patching that controlled them was checked by medical sensors. The life systems control computer on his chest underwent a full self-diagnostic. Meanwhile, his helmet was suspended by a robot arm above his pasty, deeply scarred head. His eyes, however, were closed and his mind was with the Force, remembering…
More then a decade ago, during the campaign to destroy the Jedi, Vader had come to the home of a Jedi named Ashka Boda, in a slum district of the only spaceport on backwater Utapau. It was late in the campaign; most of the Jedi were defeated already. The grand battles were over. Now, all that remained was to finish off the impotent remnants of the Order. Boda was one such remnant. His name and location had been taken from the main Census Computer on Coruscant. All indications were that he had not fled, and was simply staying where he was.
Vader left his squad of stormtroopers behind as he entered the wretched dwelling of Ashka Boda. Word of Vader’s arrival had apparently not affected the old Jedi; Vader found him just finishing a simple meal in the one-room second floor apartment.
Boda didn’t get up as Vader’s huge form filled the apartment’s doorway. “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, his voice weak, as he wiped a corner of his mouth. “And I’m ready. Go ahead. Do what you came to do. Do what you must do.”
Vader paused in the doorway, studying the seated man. Boda seemed to offer no threat. Just the opposite—he seemed to be a broken man, devoid of resistance. “Are you so eager to die, old man?” Vader asked.
“I am ready to die,” Boda said. He held up his large, empty hands. “I have no lightsaber, so I cannot duel you. I gave it up long ago. It brought me the ultimate grief, and I will never hold it again. You, however, could cut me down where I sit…”