It is a time of decision for the Force. The Jedi nexus of fate approaches, drawing the Emperor together with the enemy who could destroy him.
Blinded to the future, Palpatine searches desperately for a way to ensure his own victory when he faces Luke Skywalker.
But the Emperors greatest blindness may be towards the threat of his most powerful servant, as Lord Vader begins to question his loyalty to his dark master
Emperor Palpatine, Master of the dark side of the Force, made no effort to hide his satisfaction as he strode across the throne room floor towards the two combatants. One of them was Luke Skywalker, a young man clad in austere black. He was holding his humming lightsaber blade at the throat of his vanquished enemy, Lord Darth Vader. Luke had given in to his anger at last, and he was astonished at how easily he had beaten the Dark Lord. Luke panted, barely containing his rage as he warily watched the approaching Emperor. The blade in his hand drifted perilously close to Vader’s gasping mask. The once mighty Sith Lord was reduced to abject terror, trying in vain to crawl away from Luke.
Luke saw Palpatine through a haze of anger. The Emperor was a surprisingly small man, hunched with age and clasping his wrinkled hands together. “Good!” Palpatine said, his withered features stamped with lust. “Your hate has made you powerful. Now, fulfill your destiny and take Lord Vader’s place at my side!”
Luke looked at the fallen Sith Lord, once his most deadly foe, now completely at his mercy. He looked at his prosthetic right hand, gloved in black, and remembered that Vader had cut his real hand off when they last met. Not only that, Vader had also tortured his friends and delivered one of them to the ruthless crime lord, Jabba the Hutt, perhaps never to be seen again. And those acts barely began to scratch the surface of Vader’s black deeds. If he put an end to this evil being, he would only be giving the galaxy the justice it cried out for. Luke suddenly recalled another man who had once been helpless before a lightsaber blade, and what Vader had done to him. Then he made the decision that felt right and just. He reversed his grip on the lightsaber he had made with his own hands and swept it through the torso of the Dark Lord, crying “For Ben Kenobi!” Vader died screaming, cut in half in a heap of seared gore.
Luke turned his back on the smoking corpse and faced the Emperor. Palpatine was nearly beside himself with glee. “Well done, my young apprentice! Now, come and kneel to me, and pledge your loyalty.”
Luke didn’t move. The Emperor smiled at Luke, but it was the smile of a crafty predator. “You cannot turn back, now, young Skywalker,” he chided Luke. He held out a wasted hand, beckoning. “I shall raise you to such heights of power that your name shall forever eclipse the name of Darth Vader.”
Luke walked over to him, and with a grim set to his features, knelt deliberately at the Emperor’s feet. “Lord Vader’s destiny is my own,” Luke said with finality. Without warning, Luke moved. “Now you die!” Luke shouted, stabbing upward with his lightsaber at Palpatine’s defenseless, robed body. The bright green blade did not find its mark, however. Even as the thrust began, the saber was deactivated by a proximity sensor hidden on the Emperor’s person. The pommel of Luke’s weapon thudded ineffectually against the Emperor’s chest, and the galactic ruler lurched backwards. Palpatine saw a flash of crimson behind Luke, then the point of a force pike bloomed from Luke’s chest. Luke was lifted from the floor, impaled on the long weapon of a hulking Imperial guard.
Luke had known he would not leave the throne room alive, but to have failed in his one chance to kill the Emperor…it was too much despair to bear. Drowning in his pain, Luke was dimly aware that his lightsaber had returned to life. Knowing death was near, and desperate to end his physical and mental torment, he managed to turn the weapon onto himself.
The red robed guard let the room’s second corpse slide from his force pike and slump to the floor. He regarded his Emperor silently. Palpatine stared thoughtfully at Luke’s body for a long time. Then, noticing the guard, he dismissed him distractedly.
The bland voice of Sate Pestage, the Emperor’s Grand Vizier, interrupted Palpatine’s introspection. “My condolences, Master, on the loss of your servant,” said Pestage, glancing at the bodies on the floor.”
Palpatine looked at Pestage bemusedly, searching his timeworn face for a hint of the sarcasm he thought might be behind the statement. There was nothing but a wizened serenity in Pestage’s expression.
For his part, Pestage knew his Master was experiencing a period of great stress, and he meant his presence to be soothing. Therefore it was with relief that he saw Palpatine calmly beckon to him and begin walking. Together, they went out into the halls of the Imperial citadel. They met no other person as they strode along in silence, for this part of the citadel was the Emperor’s private sanctuary. There were times when Pestage worried a great deal about his Master. Like the day, four months ago, when Palpatine had collapsed into a vision trance in front of most of the fleet Admirals. The glorious one had foreseen his own death, and despite his reliable means of overcoming that particular affliction, he had been afraid. Seeing fear in his Master had shaken Pestage. Palpatine was the foundation on which he built his life. He could not imagine what he would do if that foundation were taken away.