“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.