[Short Stories] - Dark Emperor 3(14)

He forced himself to wait patiently as the decanting mechanisms activated at a touch of his mind, but it took a supreme effort. The Emperor was still full of searing anger. Everything had seemed so close to success. Vader had brought his son to the Death Star as a willing prisoner. Young Skywalker had reacted to all of Palpatine’s manipulations as expected. The boy’s friends and the Rebel fleet had all fallen neatly into the trap. With everyone he cared for in mortal danger, Luke had given in to his anger. The final push had come when Vader made the stunning discovery that one of the lives at risk was Luke’s own unsuspected twin sister. Palpatine hadn’t even planned it, but Vader had gone too far by threatening to turn the sister to the dark side as well. Luke had called on the dark side in his desperate need for power to crush his father, who could not ever be redeemed. The boy had clearly been about to kill the Sith Lord. Palpatine had felt the hate in him, seen the blade at Vader’s throat. Somehow he had resisted. How was it possible? Luke’s unexpected words had infuriated the Emperor. You’ve failed, your highness… Upon hearing that, Palpatine had decided instantly that the boy must die as painfully as possible. The Force lightning had come forth with a vengeance, fueled by burning rage.

That rage still coursed through the Emperor as the nutrient bath level swiftly dropped. He realized where he had made his mistake. He had known Vader was treacherous, but he had thought the Dark Lord to be too weak to be a threat. He had been completely absorbed in the punishment of the boy when Vader made his move. Vader had always wanted Palpatine’s power. He had taken his chance to kill his Master and seize that power for himself.

Palpatine wasted no more thought on Vader. He knew that the Force lightning had struck enough blows to end his one time servant’s life for certain. Vader had been paid in full, but Skywalker, he sensed, had survived. It was time to finish what he had begun. The clone vat smoothly opened. The youthful Emperor stepped out of the tank and into the cramped storage room with murder in his yellow eyes. He shrugged on a robe to cover his nakedness. The sparks had already begun to arc from his fingertips.

Suddenly, there was a deafening thunder and the floor leaped away from his bare feet. The heavy clone tank crashed without warning onto his legs, crushing him to the deck. Bewildered, the Emperor reached out through the Force with his inner sight. What he saw stunned him. The deflector shield was gone, and the Rebel fleet was no longer trapped. He felt his carefully laid plans fall to dust, including those concerning his own survival. The Super Star Destroyer, Executor, had plunged into the Death Star like a titan’s arrow finding its mark in the belly of the beast. That had rocked the station, and now the Rebel fleet had begun a close range bombardment of the Death Star’s unfinished side. Rebel fighters were inside the superstructure, heading for the main reactor.

There would be no time for vengeance. Skywalker would have to wait for another day. Palpatine used the Force to thrust the massive tank away from himself, and gazed at the ruin of his legs. He easily controlled the pain, but he knew he would not walk out of the room. There was no time for healing. With the Force, he opened the door to the hallway, where chaos reigned. Officers and stormtroopers ran in all directions, following or giving futile orders, or simply panicking. Palpatine spotted Moff Jerjerrod stumbling by in a daze, and called out to him.

Jerjerrod entered, sweating, his eyes darting crazily about until they fixed on Palpatine. He saw a young man who lay on the floor, his robes in disarray, his otherwise naked form slicked with yellow-green fluid. “Who are you?” he stammered.

Palpatine now regretted having chosen such a weak man as the Death Star Commander. He needed help, and he knew he would have to mind control the fool to get it. In a moment, Jerjerrod’s face went blank, and he stooped to help the Emperor to a standing position. Together, they stumbled into the corridor. With the Moff’s help, Palpatine reached a comm panel. He swiftly keyed a sequence that would send a coded message to his Grand Vizier. Sate Pestage would know what to do to prepare for the future. Now he had to ensure that there would be a future.

Despite his precautions, he was very far from Byss now. To reach another clone, his essence would have to travel vast distances through the nether-realm while fighting the dissolution of the dark side’s chaos. Such a journey might take too long to survive. But his studies with the Holocron had taught him about spirit anchors, how a consciousness could retain its individuality while entirely within the Force, provided there was a living mind to cling to. He planned to use one himself, to make sure he survived until he could reach Byss. It was no sure thing, but it was his only chance. He knew just the person. There was an operative named Mara Jade, code named the Emperor’s Hand. She had the power to hear his call from anywhere in the galaxy, and he needed that ability now. He reached out with the Force and found her. The link was established in a moment, and just in time.