“But Master, it was destroyed,” said Mara. “Nothing was left.”
“The object I have in mind would have been very valuable to Boda, and he would have stored it in a safe place. It is a Jedi artifact, a recording device that would contain certain knowledge…knowledge that would be very useful to me.”
“But what makes you think-“
“As I was fighting Vantos Boda, it was clear to me that he had access to a number of lost secrets of Jedi lore. Such secrets are often recorded in ancient devices known as Holocrons. Search the wreckage of his home, and stay in contact with me. Look for a smooth cube or other geometric shape, covered with writing or carvings. If you find such a device, you must bring it to me at once.”
“All right,” said Mara uncertainly. “I’ll see what I can find.”
“I have the utmost faith in you, my dear Mara Jade,” said Palpatine.
Three days later, the Emperor smiled triumphantly over his prize, the Jedi Holocron of Ashka and Vantos Boda. Mara Jade had found it in the ruins of Boda’s greenhouse, in a force field-protected box. The Holocron was a cube made of precious gems. Ancient writings could be seen on its surface in the right light, and it had a slight glowing blue aura at all times. It felt warm in his hands, and he knew that with a thought, he could bring it to life, summoning the holographic gatekeeper, Bodo Baas. Baas was an interactive teaching entity, able to answer Palpatine’s questions about the Jedi lore stored within. Although the holographic alien had amusingly called Palpatine “dark one”, the thing had cooperated well enough.
The Holocron contained teachings concerning Life Transfer, the power to move one’s spirit into another body. This was surely what Vantos had used to inhabit Ashka’s body. Palpatine was further amused that the holographic Jedi Master who imparted this knowledge referred to it in the gravest sense as a power of the dark side. The Emperor had laughed out loud at that.
Palpatine had spent a day studying the new power, until he decided how to use it. Although it could be employed to enter another’s body and drive out the consciousness within, he had no desire to take another’s body. He wanted his own body, and he wanted it to be young again, and not dying. The key, of course, was to combine the knowledge with the science of cloning. Already, Palpatine had experimented with creating a clone of the former Jedi Master Jorus C’Baoth. He had learned that the clone could inherit the same Force sensitivity as the original…but what good was a clone of himself if it was not himself? But now that he could transfer his actual essence into a new body, he could conceivably transfer into one of his own clones. His new body would have the same vast Force sensitivity he had come to depend on, and it would be a chance to recapture his youth and vitality.
For the first time in over a year, Palpatine felt the fear lift from him. He was going to live! He had accomplished what no other dark side adept ever had. He had outsmarted the destructive irony that brought low the dark side’s greatest servants. Let the power exact its price! From now on, it would be nothing to pay! He could claim ever greater rewards, while simply using up a series of replaceable physical bodies. It was wonderful to imagine.
The Emperor owed a great debt to Ashka and Vantos Boda. It was a pity he could never thank them. Ashka, especially, had wished him well when Palpatine was only a child. As for Vantos, he had fulfilled his mission from the Force after all, though it had turned out to be serving the dark side by supplying Palpatine with the Holocron. And even if Vantos had felt a certain hostility towards Palpatine’s reign, the best revenge was, as always, to live well.
He was going to do so for a long, long time…
Sate Pestage finally finished meticulously cleaning the dust and broken glass from his austere quarters in the Palace. A housekeeping droid could have done it for him, but he preferred to do it by hand. It gave him something to occupy his thoughts while his Master remained in isolation from him for three days. His only other option was to face the hordes of inquiries regarding the Emperor’s health after the Palace explosions, and he just couldn’t do that. Beyond issuing a statement that the Emperor was unhurt, there was nothing he could tell them, and their worried questions only made Pestage focus on his own worries.
Pestage had been afraid of losing his Master to an unstoppable physical decline for the past year, and now, to make matters worse, a dark Jedi had struck at Palpatine in the throne room itself. Pestage’s spies had ferreted out the name of this Jedi…Ashka Boda. Besides a deep outrage, Pestage also felt a nagging sense of recognition of that name. He finally placed the memory as dating back to the traumatic day when he had lost his son. He had saved the life of an injured Jedi named Ashka Boda on that same day. Was it really the same man, who now repaid Pestage’s kindness with this horrific violence? If so, then Pestage regretted what he had done. He would never have rescued the man, had he known it would someday endanger his Master, his Emperor, his…son. He would have left Boda as broken as the rare vase in his refuse bin.