[Short Stories] - Dark Emperor 4

The Emperor is presumed to be destroyed with the Death Star at Endor. The throne of a Galactic civilisation stands empty.

But Palpatine survives within the mind of the Emperor’s hand, Mare Jade. Grand Vizier Sate Pestage must bring her to the planet Byss in order to restore his master.

Now a new threat arises, as a powerful Imperial advisor plans to claim both the vacant throne and Mara Jade for himself

The Emperor’s Grand Vizier, Sate Pestage, knew his Master was dead before anyone else in the Palace. The message that appeared on his secure HoloNet terminal left no doubt in his mind. Once he had decrypted it, using codes known only to the Emperor and himself, Pestage knew the Empire had lost its dark center. Like the gigantic black hole at the center of the galaxy, Palpatine had been the hub around which every destiny in the Empire revolved. Now, without him, the Empire would spin out of control, heading for disaster. Pestage should have been filled with despair. He had found his life’s meaning in his service to the Emperor. Without that purpose, the emptiness would surely swallow him. But the Grand Vizier could afford neither despair nor oblivion. It was entrusted to him to turn defeat into victory, to salvage order out of chaos, to restore hope. Palpatine, his Emperor, was depending on him.

Pestage reviewed the contents of the message once more, as puzzled by its cryptic lines as ever.

My old friend, the fact that you are reading this means that the worst has come to pass. I have reached the nexus I feared, and have not survived. But you must not surrender. If ever you have been my servant, you must serve me now. You must bring Mara Jade to the Citadel on Byss. No one, not even Jade, must know the reason for the journey, but if you succeed, I will be restored. The Empire is in your hands.

Palpatine

With one bony finger, Pestage touched the erase key. He knew that no one else must see the message. Bad times were coming. Now, a power vacuum existed, and someone would rush to fill it. No one had the right to the throne except his Master. Not even Pestage himself could claim it. But those who would steal the throne would also kill to hold it, and that meant Pestage’s life was in danger. Doubly so, if the usurpers knew of this message. Not that Pestage understood it. Palpatine was dead, somewhere near Endor. He had gone to face Skywalker, and that had led to the ultimate ruin. He had taken a clone with him, but evidently, that had not availed him. Pestage knew enough about the Emperor’s cloning-based immortality to see that there was no salvation for his Master, so far away from Byss. Without proximity to a clone, Palpatine was surely lost. Yet, he would trust that somehow, appearances were deceiving, and that there was hope. He would trust in his Master, and he would trust in the Force.

Suddenly, Pestage felt very old, very alone, and quite overwhelmed. He regarded his own frail frame.

“It isn’t fair,” he muttered. “These weak bones cannot bear such a great burden. I must restore you, when you were all that kept me going… what have you done? You’ve staked all on an old man, whose only strength is his love for you. Well it may not be enough. But I…I will die trying to save you, if need be. There is no other way for me.”

Pestage hung his head. Now, he must deliver the terrible news of the Emperor’s fall to Ars Dangor. He did not look forward to that duty in the slightest. Dangor was not a man who took bad news well.



The Emperor’s Hand, Mara Jade, was the second person in the Palace to know that Palpatine was dead, and the only one to see him die. She was standing alone in vast and ancient Manarai hall, in front of a huge window that displayed the breathtaking panorama of the distant Manarai Mountains. She could look down on the sprawling Imperial City that filled the valley, ocean like, its metallic waves breaking against the severe rock of the faraway peaks. The city heaved with activity, but high above, Mara had sought out this serene and empty place for her much needed meditation. She had been tormented by anxiety and guilt for days.

She was afraid that something terrible was going to happen, and most of all, she felt that it would happen because her last mission had failed.

Mara had been summoned into her Master’s presence just weeks ago, by a mental command. She had made her way to his private chambers. She knew that every courtier who saw her pass by, saw her beauty and concluded that she was Palpatine’s pleasure toy. That misconception, that underestimation, suited her just fine. It made her job that much easier. For Mara Jade was in reality the Emperor’s Hand, a special operative who took care of the tasks that couldn’t be handled by a legion of stormtroopers. She was an assassin and a spy, a versatile extension of Palpatine’s will. He had trained her in the dark side of the Force personally, and she could hear his mental commands from anywhere in the galaxy. That last ability made her very special to the Emperor, for she often ventured into places where communication was impossible, to work his will with an immediacy and an effectiveness that was impossible for other operatives to achieve.