[Short Stories] - Dark Emperor 2(7)
By the time night fell on Byss, the five moons shining beautifully on the ornate towers and sprawling complexes of the Imperial Control Sector, the HoloNet had delivered the awful details of what had happened at Yavin. The dread Death Star had been vaporized by a single shot from a Rebel X-wing. The pilot had hit a thermal exhaust port with a proton torpedo, against impossible odds. The Dark Lord of the Sith was reported missing or dead. The base on Yavin was untouched, and worst of all, news of what had happened was being spread throughout the galaxy by the cursed Rebels. Alliance propaganda touted the genocide at Alderaan and the destruction of the Death Star as final proof of the Empire’s tyranny and the Alliance’s cause as freedom fighters. This would have little effect on the firmly held inner systems, but the outlying regions might be swayed. The time for retribution was now.
Palpatine blamed the defeat at Yavin on the incompetence of his officers. It was fortunate for those who had served on the Death Star that they were dead. The designer of the battle station, Bevel Lemelisk, would soon wish that he was dead with them. There must be a greater military buildup than ever before. Rebellious worlds would be snuffed out. He did not need a Death Star to reduce a planet to rubble. The new Super Star Destroyers would suffice. There would be a sweeping shakeup in the command structure of the Imperial forces. He needed someone he could trust implicitly in command. Someone ruthless and absolutely loyal to him. Someone of the highest competence. He needed Darth Vader.
But first he would have to find the Dark Lord. Palpatine knew his servant was not dead. He would have felt it. Somehow Vader had survived, perhaps by escaping in his fighter before the station had erupted. So for several hours, the Emperor searched the space around Yavin. The Death Star continued to burn. Vast sections of radioactive wreckage formed a loosely held together orbiting graveyard, littered with incinerated, flash-frozen corpses. Slowly, the gravity of the gas giant would claim the remains, swallowing them without a trace. Not a spark of life remained.
No! There was something, very faint…In a decaying orbit, a crippled fighter with curved wings floated, dark. Within it, Vader was in a hibernation trance, conserving the minimal remaining life support. Immediately, Palpatine contacted his agents in the fleet and directed an assault shuttle from the new Yavin blockade to rescue Vader. Within a few days, Vader would once again stand before him, ready to do his dark bidding throughout the galaxy.
Vader and the Emperor were alone in the throne room on Coruscant. Strong and commanding in his youthful body, Palpatine stood over his kneeling servant. The Sith Lord was full of anger, humiliation, and a sense of failure. He clearly expected to be punished.
“Rise, Lord Vader,” said the Emperor in ringing tones. Vader rose to regard his Master with bowed head. Palpatine was clad in a severe black uniform with the Imperial symbol at his breast, and over that, a flowing cape with a high flaring collar. Vader towered over his Master, as if to give the lie to their relative authorities. The Emperor’s face was now unlined and full of regal assurance. Vader’s face was forever hidden behind a grotesque mask meant to inspire fear. But it was Vader who felt the fear as he awaited his judgment.
“Tell me of what happened,” said Palpatine, his voice calm.
“The Rebels escaped,” Vader replied, “leading us to their base as planned. As we began to orbit Yavin, they came out to meet us in one-man fighters. It seemed the last defense of people who fully expected to die. I instructed tactical to do an analysis of their attack. When I saw that their target was the equatorial trench, I realized that these were not suicidal madmen. They were desperate, but they had a plan. I ordered the Grand Moff Tarkin informed and mobilized my personal TIE fighter squadron. Several fighters broke away from the main group and flew into the trench. I pursued them with two wingmen. We destroyed several ships, and one Rebel fired on a thermal exhaust port, proving my theory correct, but the shot was too difficult. Tarkin did not send out reinforcements, but by then there were less than five Rebel ships left.”
Vader paused. The source of his shame was to be told next. The Emperor simply prompted him, “Go on.”
“Three X-wings made a final attempt. I destroyed one ship, and the second was damaged and fled. We closed on the leader. He was an uncanny pilot, and my targeting computer lost its lock again and again.” Vader stared full into the face of his Master. “It was then that I felt the impossible. The pilot was using the Force and it was strong in him. Then I knew that what had seemed folly was great cleverness on the part of the Rebels. A Force user, I knew, could make the shot. No wonder the Rebels had designed this strategy, with such a one among them. I fired again when I had a lock, but somehow my shots only hit his droid. I felt the presence of Obi-Wan, trying to interfere with me, but he was too late. The Death Star was ready to fire. The Rebel pilot must have stopped focusing on evasion because all at once my targeting computer had a firm lock. But at that instant, as if ordained by the Force, my attack was broken.” Filled with anger, Vader had to stop for a moment. The repetitive sound of his mechanized breathing was the only sign of life within his rigid armor.