Mara was stunned. And then the chant became, “Emperor Dangor! The Emperor!” Dangor gave a deep bow, and Mara felt such a black anger build up inside her mind that she lurched away from the screen and fell to her knees. A violent surge of hatred coursed through her, blotting out any rational thought. She stiffened, and finally all thought left her as her consciousness went spiraling down into blackness.
Ars Dangor, the new Emperor, left the Hall of Address and hurried back to his quarters. He was heady with excitement. The throne was his! The adulation of the people would be directed at him alone! Of course, he also knew he would have to face the harsh realities of the crisis, but why shouldn’t he be allowed a moment of triumph? For years he had run the day-to-day business of the Empire. Now he had the true power that went with that responsibility. He had earned this. True, the business with Sate Pestage had not gone exactly as planned, but the old man was still being exiled. Isard would see that it accomplished the same thing…Pestage was still out of the way. Dangor hadn’t been comfortable with killing him anyway. Death was such a harsh solution to a problem.
Dangor reached his quarters, and the guard by the door bowed to him. Now why was there a guard—? Oh yes. Mara Jade was inside waiting for him. What a perfect way to celebrate his victory. She would certainly be his now that he actually was Emperor. Dangor licked his lips in anticipation as he dismissed the guard and opened the ornate door. “Mara Jade,” he called, “I’ve come for you, as you knew I would.”
Mara Jade was inside the new Emperor’s chambers, but she was not seeing them as they really were. All around her were Palpatine’s things, and they were all spattered with his blood. Cradled in her arms was her beloved Master, dead in a pool of his own vital fluids. Palpatine’s wounds were horrible. They had been made with a lightsaber, that was clear, but they were designed to make his death a slow one. Indeed, she had found him while he was still breathing.
“Mara Jade,” he had whispered in his agony, “It was the Jedi, Skywalker. It was Skywalker.” He had coughed up a great deal of blood, and even more had spilled from the terrible open wound in his stomach. He was so very old and frail, so weak and helpless. He had managed to tell her of how Skywalker had found him weaponless, how the Rebel had toyed with him, cutting him first on the leg, then the chest, stalking him around the room as he bled in his terror. The final cut had left him to die slowly. He had finally died in Mara’s arms.
Suddenly the door opened. Someone was invading Palpatine’s rooms. A robed figure stepped in. It was the Jedi, Skywalker. “Mara Jade, I’ve come for you, as you knew I would,” he said. He walked over to her. “I am Emperor now. I have taken the throne.” He smiled. “Now it’s your turn.”
Mara leaped to her feet. She snarled at the arrogant Jedi, so secure in his ability to kill her as well. That wasn’t going to happen. She had no weapons, but her bare hands would suffice. She lunged for Skywalker, catching him by the throat before he could bring out his lightsaber. He looked just like he had in Jabba’s Palace, but now his boyish looks were suffused with shock and fear. Her hands were still covered with Palpatine’s blood as she pressed her fingers deeply into his flesh. Skywalker choked, struggled, pleaded in gasps. “-no-ah-ah-wha-you-do-ss-sss-sto-” But Mara used all her skills as an assassin, countering his struggles and pressing home the death he deserved. “You killed the Emperor,” she hissed into his face. “You’ve earned this, Skywalker!” The Jedi had begun to turn purple. He barely managed to rasp, “-y-you-m-make-m-mis-take-ah-“, and then he had no more breath left for words.
Then a strange look came over Mara Jade’s face, and she suddenly grinned wickedly. Her voice deepened and became more sibilant as she bore down mercilessly, finally, upon Skywalker. “Oh no, Ars Dangor, you will find that it is you who are mistaken, about a great many things.”
At last, the man in Mara Jade’s iron grasp died, his throat crushed. He sprawled at her feet. Mara Jade staggered back and turned to the body of her Master. “I have avenged you,” she said, and then she stared in surprise as the corpse and all the bloodstains dispersed like smoke. She spun to look at Skywalker’s corpse, certain that she was in another nightmare, but it hadn’t vanished. It had changed. Now she saw the dead, bulging eyes of Ars Dangor staring at her. She had just murdered the new Emperor.
Mara checked his body to make sure he was dead, and to dispel any doubt that it was an illusion. She felt dizzy. What was happening to her? Normally, she was able to adapt to swiftly changing situations, but this was too much. Her headache still tormented her, she was unsure of what was real, and now, she realized, she was in a world of trouble.