A while later, the shuttle lifted off gracefully, and climbed for the stars. When it had dwindled to a distant point of light, Pestage heard quiet footsteps approach him from behind.
It was Palpatine. He was alive, and young again. He stood next to Pestage, not speaking, just sharing his presence with the man to whom he owed so much.
“You may have mishandled her, Master,” Pestage said after a while. “I’m not sure she will finally do as you wish.”
“Only time will tell,” Palpatine said simply. “The future is no longer…open to me.”
“Are you well, Master?” Pestage asked.
“I am alive, Sate Pestage, but I have lost a great deal. My powers are at their lowest level in decades. My adepts have become my teachers, and they say I can be restored, but it will take years. Years while the Rebels claim my galaxy.”
“Master, there will be a chance to reclaim that, too, I am sure. When that day comes, you may encounter Luke Skywalker again. If you will accept my advice, I would ask you to consider that meeting with care. Perhaps it is not necessary to be his adversary. Perhaps you can turn him next time, and even make him the heir to your Empire.”
“I will consider your words, Sate Pestage,” Palpatine said. “With Vader gone, it may be the wisest course to follow. But that, too, must wait.” Palpatine was silent for a time.
Pestage bowed slightly. “I will leave you to your thoughts, Master, and retire for the evening.”
“Good night, Old Friend,” said Palpatine. Pestage walked away, his robes whispering, and Palpatine stood gazing at the city. For now, it was all that was left of his Empire. That would have to be enough. The doors closed behind the Grand Vizier. Hearing that, Palpatine said quietly, “Good night, Father.”
Š Text copyright 1997 Brendon J.Wahlberg.