Star Wars: A New Enemy

A New Enemy

By Brendon Wahlberg

First in a series of stories about The Emperor during the film trilogy
(episodes 4-6) See also, The Hand of Fate (2) and The Emperor Eclipsed (3)

Palpatine was the undisputed master of the whole galaxy, and he had no
enemies left. His piercing yellow eyes gazed from a face mostly hidden
by a deep black hood. What could be seen of that visage was severely
etched with age, the eyes sunken into cavernous sockets surrounded by
withered, mottled skin. The forehead seemed oddly misshapen, and the
mouth was a rictus filled with ragged nubs of teeth. But that mouth
was set in a wicked grin, and the eyes burned with a hungry fire.
There were some, of course, who thought of themselves as his
enemies. The irritating Mon Mothma and Bail Organa, for example. This
was their foolish conceit. They were nothing, as were the pitiful
insurrectionists who had of late been calling themselves the
"alliance". To the most powerful dark side master who ever lived,
these were not enemies. The Jedi , weak-willed practitioners of the
impotent side of the Force, were dead and gone. Knowing that they
could have threatened him, Palpatine had unleashed the Sith and their
Dark Lord to hunt them down. As if to prove their inferiority, many of
the Jedi had practically set their necks to the blade. Disheartened by
the fall of the Republic, they had not even resisted. A few fought or
ran, only to be overcome by the brute force of Imperial technology and
the relentless, merciless pursuit of Palpatine's servant, the fallen
Jedi, Darth Vader. The bravest had brought the fight to his own
doorstep; these Palpatine personally annihilated. The purge had taken
a great deal of effort, and of the Sith, only Vader remained. But with
the Jedi exterminated, Emperor Palpatine had no enemies left.  Anyone
seeing Palpatine in his private meditation chamber, deep inside the
Emperor's citadel on Byss, would have noticed the frail manner in
which the ruler of known space clutched at his gnarled walking stick
and concluded that this man did indeed have an enemy - death
itself. But he would be wrong. Palpatine felt death approaching. It
felt like it always did. There was the sense that the very fabric of
his tissues would soon be torn apart by the energies he daily
channeled through them. He knew that if he were to die in truth, he
would be forever lost within the howling chaos of the dark side
itself. It would claim him for its own as he had claimed the
galaxy. Here on Byss, however, Palpatine could laugh at death. For he
sat a stone's throw from his clone vat chamber, where a dozen clones
floated suspended in nutrient tanks. He had come to Byss to die. And
to be reborn.  The Emperor would erupt in blue energy, leaving a
shattered shell behind. Then, thanks to his researches into dark side
lore and cloning, he would enter one of his own mature clones. When he
opened his new eyes, he would have a strong, young body once more. The
dying was painful, and the transition unpleasant to be sure, but a
little suffering was a small price to be paid for immortality. The
very thought of his new body made his grin widen, and a dreadful
cackle emerged from deep within his throat.  Most people who heard
that laugh immediately found good reasons to be elsewhere.  The
Emperor's Grand Vizier, Sate Pestage, was merely used to it. Pestage
stood waiting silently at the threshold of the small room, still as a
statue. He had come to confer with his master, but he would not emit a
whisper until the dark and glorious one acknowledged him. Pestage was
a wizened figure of a man with ancient, craggy features. In some ways,
he seemed older than the Emperor, and his emaciated form was lost in
his voluminous bejeweled robes. Nonetheless, Pestage was tireless in
his service to the Emperor, and acted as his personal assistant in all
things. He prepared meals, managed affairs, and scheduled the day's
events.  Now Pestage simply stared at his master's decrepit form in
sorrow.  Pestage may have been old, but he had an aura of stubborn
health around him. Palpatine radiated only decay.  It pained him to
see the dark one thus diminished, and Pestage gave silent thanks to
the Force that the citizenry of the Empire did not see their sovereign
this way. To the rest of the galaxy, Palpatine was a middle aged,
charismatic figure with a commanding presence. Of course, this image
was the product of the finest holotechnology. When he was thus
afflicted by the aging, the Emperor did not make public appearances,
trusting the day-to- day running of the Empire to his most trusted
advisors, such as Ars Dangor. Dangor made all the public addresses and
Pestage acted as an intermediary in all communications with the
Emperor.  Only a tiny handful of beings saw Palpatine as he really
was, beings such as the Sith Lord and the Emperor's Hand.  Palpatine
slowly turned to face the Grand Vizier. "What is it, my friend", he
said quietly, beckoning to Pestage. The galactic ruler had a voice
full of eerie sibilance that would seem appropriate issuing from a
sepulcher. That voice, Pestage knew, could change from gleeful
satisfaction to blackest menace in the space of a moment. Now it was
calm, almost gentle. "Is the proclamation prepared as I have ordered
it?"  Pestage took a step into the room, robes whispering, and held
out an ornamental datapad. On its small screen, a short paragraph was
illumined.

His Imperial Majesty has decreed that the current emergency involving
armed terrorists spreading death and destruction throughout the galaxy
requires the temporary institution of martial law. The regional
governors will now have direct control over their territories,
allowing them to take the necessary steps to put a swift end to these
cowardly and criminal attacks that threaten the families of every law-
abiding citizen.  For the duration of the crisis, the Imperial Senate
will be in recess. Reports that criminal activities have been
supported by members of the Senate are being fully investigated. Rest
assured that the terrorists will soon be brought to justice, and
stability will reign throughout the galaxy.

The Emperor finished reading and nodded in satisfaction.  This
proclamation would complete his New Order. There would be no "recess",
of course. With the disbanding of the Senate, the last vestige of the
"Old Republic" would be expunged. No political opposition to the New
Order would be possible. The impassioned speeches of Senators such as
Leia Organa could influence public opinion, and those voices must be
silenced. Mon Mothma had brought this on herself, giving Palpatine the
perfect excuse. She had gone too far, openly declaring against him and
then orchestrating the theft of the data on project Death Star. Vader
was even now on a mission to recover the information. Mothma was
beyond reach for now, but at least her accomplices in the Senate could
be stripped of power. One day, though, the Emperor mused, he would
find her and teach her the true meaning of fear.  The proclamation
also formalized the Tarkin doctrine. Now, each system would be kept
under control through fear, a potent weapon indeed. The Death Star had
been completed in the Horuz system and was very nearly operational; it
would soon become the symbol of the New Order. When Palpatine next
opened his eyes in the clone vat chamber, they would gaze upon a
galaxy totally under Imperial power.  "You've done well, Sate
Pestage. The phrasing is excellent as usual. Ars Dangor will make this
proclamation as soon as possible." The Emperor grinned blackly and
handed back the datapad. He moved to sit in his thronelike chair with
some difficulty. "I will not make any more decisions until after I am
young again."  Pestage nodded.  Palpatine pointed a crooked finger at
him. "I wish nothing to disturb my meditations. I must have peace for
the transition.  When my time is near, I shall call on you to assist
in my preparations."  Sate Pestage bowed deeply. "Yes, my master", he
intoned, and quietly left the Emperor's chamber. Moving through the
labyrinthian halls of the Citadel, Pestage reflected that he was a
free man for the next several days. His master's meditations were
trance-like, and Palpatine neither ate nor carried out any activities,
weakening himself to the point where he could simply will the
transition. Pestage would help his master to his bed, then leave him
in complete isolation for that most private of experiences.  The Grand
Vizier did not pretend to understand the workings of the Force, but he
knew his life would be empty without the glory of his master to light
his universe. Even to be away from him for a few days made Pestage
feel a little hollow. Perhaps he would visit the combat arena as a
diversion. There was a fight to the death between a Wookiee and a
Gundark this afternoon. Perhaps. But he would stay close to the
Citadel, just in case.

*   *   *

Palpatine was at one with the Force. His frail physical form was left
behind, and his mind roamed the galaxy. His galaxy. He could feel its
life and death energies, and through his connection to the dark side,
he could savor the strength that was his reward for service. For the
Emperor himself was only a servant. All of Palpatine's efforts were
directed towards the creation of a galaxy where the emotions of a
thousand million worlds would feed the dark side with anger, fear, and
aggression. Certainly, he loved the personal power he received as the
foremost user of the dark side, and he had every intention of holding
that power eternally.  Together, he and the dark side would rule every
living being.  Fundamentally, the dark side was chaos, entropy, a
destructive force ever held in balance against the light side. But the
dark side hungered for dominance, and Palpatine gave it a chance. He
had no illusions. It would consume him, too, if he let it, but that
would never happen. He would serve it for always, and everything else
would serve him.  Through the Force, the Emperor could communicate
with others such as Vader across huge distances, though he sometimes
preferred the holotransmitter for the way it created a huge image of
his form to intimidate the viewer. Often, he could "see" what was
happening where he turned his mental gaze, an ability which had given
him a huge advantage during his rise to power.  Now he sent his mind
in search of the Death Star, and the familiar presence of his servant,
who by now should have recovered the data and returned to the battle
station to act as the Emperor's representative. Tarkin had been given
a free hand in using the Death Star, but anyone with power needed
watching, no matter how loyal. It was with some surprise that he
located the Death Star in orbit around the jewel-like world of
Alderaan. He could "see" the enormous sphere floating against the
starry blackness of space. The Emperor was not in awe of any
technology. As he had so often told Vader, the Force was the true
power in the universe.  But he did find the Death Star to be
beautiful. It was merely a means to an end, but it was a lovely and
impressive means to an end.  Palpatine sent his mind into the station,
reaching out for Vader while keeping his servant unaware of his
presence. Vader was in the command center, with Tarkin and the young
Senator (former Senator now) Leia Organa. It took an extra moment to
focus on Vader, since there seemed to be a strange echo of his mental
signature present. The strain of the approaching transition was
evidently beginning to take its toll.  Tarkin began to speak, with a
crisp superiority. "Princess Leia, before your execution I would like
you to be my guest at a ceremony that will make this battle station
operational. No star system will dare oppose the Emperor now."
Palpatine had chosen Tarkin well. Another man might have his own power
in mind, rather than the Emperor's. But what had this young woman done
to deserve execution?  Now she spoke back with a haughty defiance
evident in her stance and tone. "The more you tighten your grip,
Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers."  Anyone
could speak with defiance when they didn't see quite how much trouble
they were in; Tarkin was holding back something devastating, and now
he decided to show it to her. He was terribly polite, however. "Not
after we demonstrate the power of this station. In a way, you have
determined the choice of the planet that'll be destroyed first. Since
you are reluctant to provide us with the location of the rebel base, I
have chosen to test this station's destructive power ... on your home
planet of Alderaan."  Palpatine felt the shock in the young woman. So,
she was a rebel agent! It was more proof that he was right to disband
the Senate; it had become a viper's nest of rebels. Curiously, he also
felt shock in Vader. His servant did not like this development. But
what of it? What was the Death Star for, after all? Through the
influence of Bail Organa, Alderaan had become a hotbed of
sedition. Better to have it gone.  Organa had begun to babble futile
protests. "No! Alderaan is peaceful. We have no weapons. You can't
possibly-" But Tarkin let the mask of civility drop. Beneath it was
the face of the Imperial War Machine, cold, hard, and merciless. "You
would prefer another target? A military target? Then name the system!"
He moved menacingly towards her, and she retreated, only to come up
against Lord Vader. That strange mind echo of Vader vanished,
finally. Tarkin spoke in a low voice. "I grow tired of asking this. So
it'll be the last time. Where is the rebel base?"  "Dantooine", Organa
seemed to crumble. "They're on Dantooine".  "There, you see Lord
Vader, she can be reasonable", Tarkin gloated. "Continue with the
operation. You may fire when ready."  "What?", shouted Organa.  Tarkin
let his amusement show. "You're far too trusting.  Dantooine is far
too remote to make an effective demonstration.  But don't worry. We
will deal with your rebel friends soon enough."  "No!", protested
Organa, but it was, of course, too late.  Immense beams of force
emerged from the Death Star's superlaser, joining to form one awesome
shaft that stabbed once at the core of the planet Alderaan. That was
when a stunning and wholly unexpected surge of power hit the Emperor
like a tidal wave. In his private chamber in the Imperial Citadel on
Byss, Emperor Palpatine lay prone on the cold floor, limned in dark
fire, his yellow eyes burning like twin suns.

*  *  *

Sate Pestage responded to the biomonitor alarms immediately, crossing
the citadel in minutes. He pounded the door release of the meditation
chamber, expecting to find his master overcome by disaster, and was
completely taken aback to find himself staring into the face of an
erect and apparently healthy Palpatine. The Emperor's face was
dominated by a savage smile, and he seemed full of vitality.  "Don't
fear", the Emperor rasped, reaching out a reassuring hand to
Pestage. "I am in no danger, but something has happened to me that I
have not foreseen! It changes everything - I must understand it."
"Master", Pestage stammered, "it is well that you are safe.  When I
heard the alarms, I was in conference with Lord Vader. He wishes to
speak with you. Should I transfer his signal?"  "No, Sate Pestage."
Palpatine seemed highly agitated. "Delay him while I consult the
Holocron." He was already heading for his bed chamber, moving with a
new strength that amazed the Grand Vizier. Pestage bowed and the door
hissed shut.  The Emperor reached towards an ornate stand on which
rested a smooth cube that softly glowed blue. He took it in his
gnarled hands, caressing the ancient writings on its elegantly tooled
surface. The Holocron felt warm and alive. Deep within the object,
organic crystals awakened. He felt a light touch on his mind as the
Holocron sensed his surface thoughts and summoned the knowledge he
required. There was a shimmer in the air, and a hologram of a somewhat
grotesque alien with clawlike hands and an exoskeleton appeared above
the cube.  "Dark One", the hologram spoke. "Listen to the words of
Bodo Baas, the gatekeeper, and learn the story of the Krath sorcerer,
Gant Feer. In the bleak days when Ulic Qel-Droma was a leader of the
conquering Krath, Feer was one of the dark side adepts under his
command. Feer was both depraved and ambitious. It is thought that he
alone had access to certain terrible secrets of the power, and he used
them without Ulic's knowledge. Feer captured Jedi and ritually
murdered them. Each terror-filled death weakened the light side and
strengthened the dark side. But one Master escaped to tell the tale,
and so we know that Feer boasted of being able to feed on their dying
energies, absorbing strength through his link to the dark side." Bodo
Baas paused. It was hard to tell from such a face, but the monster
seemed reluctant to speak to him. When it resumed, it seemed to look
right at him.  "Gant Feer did not live to enjoy his gains. Ulic
noticed how powerful his underling had become, and had him
assassinated.  Feer's secrets died with him. Take heed, Dark One. To
take life from the death of others is possible, but it may bring ruin
in unforeseen ways." With a steamy green glow, Bodo Baas dissolved.
Palpatine sat silently in thought. As Alderaan was shattered, he had
felt a huge surge of power flowing into him through his connection to
the dark side. At that moment, he had been unprepared for it, too
surprised and stunned to move or think. But he had felt like he could
have done anything, anything at all. He thought he knew how to prepare
himself for the next time, how to defend himself and turn the power to
his own ends. He might even find a way to overcome the problem of his
vulnerable clone bodies.  An entire world, teeming with life, had died
in terror! If the story of Gant Feer was any indication, such an event
would have strengthened the dark side. At one with the Force,
Palpatine had been filled with that power, though it had passed
through his grasp like a gale force wind. He laughed suddenly as he
realized that this gave the Death Star a wonderful new purpose.
Gently, he replaced the Holocron. He sometimes felt that, though it
was just a recording device, it was subtly against him.  There was the
way it called him "dark one", for example. That it had warned him
against pursuing this course did not surprise him.  It did not
matter. There was always a danger. The chance of a victory over his
affliction was worth any risk.  Palpatine crossed to his personal
holonet terminal and activated it.  The screen showed the stark black
mask of Darth Vader. Vader was alone in his meditation chamber on the
Death Star. Palpatine acknowledged him with a slight nod. With head
bowed, Vader spoke in his deep, machine-enhanced voice. "My master,
the destruction of Alderaan..." Vader was shaken. "There was a great
disturbance in the force. I fear for the consequences of using the
Death Star in this way. Destruction on this scale could bring chaos to
--" The Emperor silenced him with a gesture, frowning. As usual,
Vader's perception of matters was lacking in insight. The Sith Lord
thought of the dark side as the means to bring order to the galaxy,
but, here he balked at the means to achieve that end.  "You will
understand in time, my servant. The destruction of Alderaan has made
me stronger. When you find the rebel base, it must be destroyed with
the Death Star as I make my transition.  Nothing will be beyond my new
abilities. I shall rule the galaxy forever, and you shall ever be at
my side."  Vader said nothing, but Palpatine knew he would always
obey. This fallen Jedi circled the Emperor's evil majesty like a moth
around a candle flame. He needed the Emperor's darkness to fill a void
inside him, but he could never come too close, lest he be consumed.
"I sense that something else troubles you, my servant", Palpatine
urged him.  With his characteristic bluntness, Vader said, "My old
master, Kenobi, is here on the Death Star. He has come to face
me. When last we met, the advantage was his. I fear he must be the
victor again."  Now it was Palpatine's turn to be surprised. Kenobi!
That cursed Jedi, still alive. So he had escaped the purge and stayed
in hiding for twenty years. Now he dared to show his face. Such
audacity must be punished. "Kenobi will meet his long overdue destiny
today. Whatever foolish errand has brought him out of his hole will be
his last. Together we will crush him, my servant."  Vader radiated
trust. "And what of the rebels who came with him? They have the Death
Star plans and they may escape the station."  "Let them go," the
Emperor said with a smirk. "They shall lead the Death Star directly to
the rebel base. I have foreseen it.  Now go and meet Kenobi. His time
has come."  Vader bowed deeply as the Emperor terminated the signal.

*   *   *     

Vader stood silently in an empty hallway of the Death Star.  Dim
memories of his defeat at Kenobi's hands sent a chill of foreboding
through him. There had been a devastating blow that ripped through his
defenses, and a fall into searing Lava. The memory of that agony gave
his hate a keen focus. He had been reborn from that death, reforged in
that furnace. Now he would pay his old master back in kind. The old
man appeared from a corridor as if flowing from the shadows. Vader's
lightsaber was already glowing redly in his hand.  "I've been waiting
for you Obi-Wan. We meet again at last.  The circle is now
complete. When I left you, I was but the learner, now I am the
master."  Kenobi wasted few words, igniting his own saber and taking
up a classical offensive position. "Only a master of evil, Darth."
With that, they were upon each other, trading lightening- fast
blows. This was an elegant combat between two masters. Each strike was
carefully controlled, and the warriors spun with an economy of motion
that belied the complexity of their attacks.  Kenobi seemed suddenly
to be under increasing strain, as though an invisible weight were
pressing down upon him. He shook his head and blinked, trying to clear
his eyes.  "Your powers are weak, old man," Vader taunted, aware that
the promise of the Emperor was being fulfilled. Palpatine was somehow
able to cloud Kenobi's mind at this distance. He had grown strong
indeed!  Kenobi seemed to come to terms with his fate at that moment,
and he serenely said, "You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I
shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." Angered at
Kenobi's calmness, Vader struck more wildly, slicing into the corridor
walls. The two warriors, failed teacher and fallen Jedi, moved next to
blast doors leading to the hangar that housed the captured
freighter. Vader could see the guards run to his defense, and he knew
that Kenobi would indeed meet his death in moments. Suddenly, across
the hangar, a motley crew of rebels and droids made a break for the
freighter, taking advantage of the stormtroopers' distraction. Kenobi
spared the rebels a glance, and seemed to come to a decision. He
lifted his sword away from Vader's and closed his eyes. Without
hesitation, Vader sliced his old master cleanly in half. The empty
cloak fell to the deck, followed a second later by the old man's
lightsaber. Vader probed the cloak with a booted foot, conflicting
feelings of triumph and fear filling him. A fierce firefight had
erupted in the hangar. Vader stood calmly as his troops were cut
down. The blast doors shut suddenly and Vader strode to a comm panel
to inform Tarkin that Kenobi was dead and that the rebels were to be
allowed to escape, since a homing beacon was aboard their ship.  There
was a roar from behind the doors as the freighter made a fast takeoff
and plunged out into space. Vader picked up Kenobi's lightsaber, and
hooked it to his belt. The Emperor would want it for his
collection. Kenobi's ending left him feeling strangely hollow.
Somehow he sensed, it was not over at all.

*   *   *

Once again, Vader knelt before the image of his master. "It is done,
my friend," the Emperor soothed. "Kenobi has become one with the light
side forever. His spirit will fade and be gone. There was no possible
anchor to hold him. You have done well, my servant. The last of the
Jedi died today."  "I saw his face, my master," Vader replied
cautiously. "He did not have the look of one who has lost."  "It is
nothing," the Emperor assured him. "merely the false pride of an old
man. I shall leave you now, my servant. I must become one with the
Force to prepare for my transition. Go now, and do my bidding. When
you see me next, I will have triumphed over this frail flesh."  Vader
arose, intoning with satisfaction, "The rebellion shall meet the same
end as Kenobi."

*   *   *

Palpatine was at one with the Force. His body rested in his bed,
beside the softly glowing Holocron. That body had come near to the end
of its usefulness. Soon, the destruction of another world would fill
him with strength. He would will his own death at that moment,
becoming absolutely at one with the dark side, existing as formless
energy. He would bring that power to his new body, transforming it
into an indestructible thing, the perfect vessel for his new level of
dark side mastery. The main problem with the clones was that they were
copies, one step removed from the protecting energies of the
force. Thus they were more vulnerable to the depredations of the dark
side. But now he saw how he could remake his body, literally
rebuilding it out of dark side energy, using the clone as a
template. He would be the dark side, and nothing would be able to stop
him. His spirit trembled, even as his body lay in a trance. The moment
was approaching.  Across the galaxy, the Death Star was about to come
within firing range of the fourth moon of Yavin, a jungle world that
teemed with life. The rebels had put up a fight, of course, but all
they had to throw against the station were a few dozen antiquated
one-man snub fighters. It was pathetic. But then, he understood well
the weakness of inferiors.  Vader was in his own prototype fighter,
leading his T.I.E.  wingmen against the X-wings, indulging in target
practice on the inexperienced rebel pilots. Tarkin waited confidently
in the command center, not even thinking it necessary to send out the
swarms of fighters that were his to deploy. It was hard to get a clear
sense of what was happening through all the chaotic emotions filling
the area. Rebel pilots screamed in terror as Vader's laser bolts
inexorably found their targets. Imperial troops milled in confusion as
rebel attacks blew apart surface installations.  Gunners radiated
excited concentration as they wielded their powerful turbolasers
against the darting rebel ships. The Emperor savored all these
feelings.  But on the command deck, calm reigned, and Palpatine found
his focus. Tarkin turned as his aide announced, "Rebel base, thirty
seconds and closing." Grim satisfaction radiated from the Grand
Moff. Palpatine shared his feeling. This was the fruition of
long-cherished plans.  The seconds ticked by. Racing across the Death
Star surface, Vader was closing on the last few rebel ships. The
Emperor sensed his servant's determination, but knew it would all be
academic in a few seconds.  "The Death Star has cleared the planet,"
came the announcement at last.  "You may fire when ready," said Tarkin
crisply.  "Commence primary ignition," pronounced Tarkin's aide. The
Death Star's prime weapon roared to life, preparing to deal death in
an instant. Palpatine readied himself for the transition, opening
himself fully to the Force. At that moment, an unexpected spark came
alight in the darkness - someone was using the light side of the
Force! It was impossible, but unmistakable. The Emperor's mind reeled
with sudden confusion, but it was too late to change anything.  "Stand
by," the words filtered through the energy waves building around
Palpatine's body.  "Stand by."  The last thing Palpatine sensed was
the Grand Moff Tarkin's crystal clear feeling of triumph. Then his
body was torn asunder, erupting in cold blue fire. His spirit went
plummeting into a fathomless abyss that was everywhere and
nowhere. But instead of the incredible strength he expected to feel,
there was devastating loss. Something had happened to cast a pall of
horrible weakness over the whole of the dark side. His essence wailing
in dismay, Palpatine barely managed to reach his clone body, pouring
into it with a desperate lunge. His new eyes shot open, and even as he
choked out the nutrient solution that filled his mouth and throat, he
reached out with the Force. What he felt, or did not feel, filled him
with rage. The Death Star was gone as if it had never existed.  His
own senses and abilities were noticeably diminished. His new body was
young and strong, of course, but he felt like he was touching the
Force with gloves on. He fell to his knees as the vat door slid up and
away. The able hands of the clone keeper reached out to steady him,
but he pushed them aside. He was trembling with hate. Someone would
pay for this outrage! The whole galaxy would pay. And first to suffer
would be those who had failed him.

*   *   *

By the time night fell on Byss, the five moons shining beautifully on
the ornate towers and sprawling complexes of the Imperial Control
Sector, the holonet had delivered the awful details of what had
happened at Yavin. The dread Death Star had been vaporized by a single
shot from a rebel X-wing. The pilot had hit a thermal exhaust port
with a proton torpedo, against impossible odds. The Dark Lord of the
Sith was reported missing or dead. The base on Yavin was untouched,
and worst of all, news of what had happened was being spread
throughout the galaxy by the cursed rebels. Alliance propaganda touted
the genocide at Alderaan and the destruction of the Death Star as
final proof of the Empire's tyranny and the Alliance's cause as
freedom fighters. This would have little effect on the firmly held
inner systems, but the outlying regions might be swayed. The time for
retribution was now. There must be a greater military buildup than
ever before.  Rebellious worlds would be snuffed out. He did not need
a Death Star to reduce a planet to rubble. The new Super Star
Destroyers would suffice. But Palpatine blamed the defeat at Yavin on
the incompetence of his officers. It was fortunate for those who had
served on the Death Star that they were dead. There would be a
sweeping shakeup in the command structure of the Imperial forces.  He
needed someone he could trust implicitly in command.  Someone ruthless
and absolutely loyal to him. Someone of the highest competence. He
needed Darth Vader.  But first he would have to find the Dark
Lord. Palpatine knew his servant was not dead. He would have felt
it. Somehow Vader had survived, perhaps by escaping in his fighter
before the station had erupted. So for several hours, the Emperor
searched the space around Yavin. The Death Star continued to
burn. Vast sections of radioactive wreckage formed a loosely held
together orbiting graveyard, littered with incinerated, flash-frozen
corpses.  Slowly, the gravity of the gas giant would claim the
remains, swallowing them without a trace. Not a spark of life
remained.  No! There was something, very faint...In a decaying orbit,
a crippled fighter with curved wings floated, dark. Within it, Vader
was in a hibernation trance, conserving the minimal remaining life
support. Immediately, Palpatine contacted his agents in the fleet and
directed an assault shuttle from the new Yavin blockade to rescue
Vader. Within a few days, Vader would once again stand before him,
ready to do his dark bidding throughout the galaxy.

*   *   *

Vader and the Emperor were alone in the throne room on Coruscant.
Strong and commanding in his youthful body, Palpatine stood over his
kneeling servant. The Sith Lord was full of anger, humiliation, and a
sense of failure. He clearly expected to be punished.  "Rise, Lord
Vader," said the Emperor in ringing tones. Vader rose to regard his
master with bowed head. Palpatine was clad in a severe black uniform
with the Imperial symbol at his breast, and over that, a flowing cape
with a high flaring collar. Vader towered over his master, as if to
give the lie to their relative authorities.  The Emperor's face was
now unlined and full of regal assurance.  Vader's face was forever
hidden behind a grotesque mask meant to inspire fear. But it was Vader
who felt the fear as he awaited his judgment.  "Tell me of what
happened," said Palpatine, his voice calm.  "The rebels escaped,
leading us to their base as planned. As we began to orbit Yavin, they
came out to meet us in one-man fighters. It seemed the last defense of
people who fully expected to die. I instructed tactical to do an
analysis of their attack. When I saw that their target was the
equatorial trench, I realized that these were not suicidal
madmen. They were desperate, but they had a plan. I ordered the Grand
Moff Tarkin informed and mobilized my personal T.I.E. fighter
squadron. Several fighters broke away from the main group and flew
into the trench. I pursued them with two wingmen. We destroyed several
ships, and one rebel fired on a thermal exhaust port, proving my
theory correct, but the shot was too difficult. Tarkin did not send
out reinforcements, but by then there were less than five rebel ships
left."  Vader paused. The source of his shame was to be told next.
The Emperor simply prompted him, "Go on."  "Three X-wings made a final
attempt. I destroyed one ship, and the second was damaged and fled. We
closed on the leader. He was an uncanny pilot, and my targeting
computer lost its lock again and again." Vader stared full into the
face of his master. "It was then that I felt the impossible. The pilot
was using the Force and it was strong in him. Then I knew that what
had seemed folly was great cleverness on the part of the rebels. A
Force user, I knew, could make the shot. No wonder the rebels had
designed this strategy, with such a one among them. I fired again when
I had a lock, but somehow my shots only hit his droid. I felt the
presence of Obi-Wan, there at the end, striking a final blow for
vengeance.  But it was too late. The Death Star was ready to fire. The
rebel pilot must have stopped focusing on evasion because all at once
my targeting computer had a firm lock. At that instant, as if ordained
by the Force, my attack was broken."  Filled with anger, Vader had to
stop for a moment. The repetitive sound of his mechanized breathing
was the only sign of life within his rigid armor.  "That accursed
freighter dove at us in a collision course. One wingman was shot down,
and the other panicked, striking my ship and ending my defense of the
Death Star. Out of control, I spun into space, and what I knew would
occur, did. The Death Star was gone and over a million Imperial lives
were lost." Vader waited, seeming to prepare himself for his master's
response.  The Emperor spoke into the silence to reassure his servant.
"I do not blame you for what happened, Lord Vader. If Governor Tarkin
had treated the attack with proper seriousness and deployed the Death
Star's fighter defenses, that freighter could not have gotten
through. The Force user is of little concern. Obi-Wan Kenobi obviously
engineered the whole thing. His cowardly death was a distraction to
allow his pilot to escape. But that is as far as it goes. This debacle
was a freak event. An untrained whelp can be no threat to us, now that
we are prepared. There will be a new Death Star, my servant. While it
is under construction, I shall assemble the greatest starfleet ever
known. It shall contain the first of the new Super Star Destroyers and
you shall command it.  Your duty will be to hunt down and destroy the
rebel alliance. I know you will not fail, my faithful servant." The
Emperor smiled benevolently, but Vader was still clearly troubled.  "I
have not told you the worst of it. Kenobi's plans ran deep.  I told
you that I felt the Force in the pilot, but I also knew at that moment
that the boy was my son."  Palpatine was incredulous. "Son?! I never
knew Skywalker had a son! What treachery is this?"  Vader immediately
fell to his knees. "I did not know myself.  But I could not be
mistaken. I believe Kenobi raised him hoping to present a threat to
us."  "Well his plans have failed," the Emperor brooded, glowering at
the ebony helmet before him. "He will never become a Jedi. We ensured
that when we destroyed Kenobi. He did not foresee his own end. This
changes nothing. We shall find and crush the rebels as planned."
"Yes, my master." Vader hesitated. "Even so, I wish to find him and
put an end to him. It does not make sense to ignore even a small
threat. Surely, this is the lesson of the Death Star."  Palpatine
considered Vader. There was some very subtle difference in him,
feelings running just beyond Palpatine's reach.  But the Dark Lord had
been through a great deal recently. It was surely only the strain
affecting him. Palpatine spoke firmly, "Young Skywalker, if that is
his name, can be no threat to our might. But he is no doubt with the
rebels, and if you wish to destroy him, you may do so when you crush
the alliance. Now go, and work my will."  Vader arose and left, black
cape billowing. Palpatine put his momentary unease aside. He could
trust Vader implicitly, for Vader was entirely his, body and soul.
The spirit of Anakin Skywalker was as lost as the very limbs of the
cyborged giant who went out to plan the Empire's revenge.

*   *   *

Everything proceeded according to the Emperor's design, as he was so
fond of saying. As three swift years passed, the galaxy felt the full
might of the Empire. Vader's starfleet pursued the rebels across the
galaxy, never giving them a chance to establish a permanent
base. Rebellious worlds were swiftly punished and their resources fed
into the Imperial war machine. Palpatine's vision for the galaxy was
becoming a reality. Vader seemed obsessed with finding young
Skywalker, but that did not seem to interfere with his search for the
main alliance forces. The new Death Star took shape around the forest
moon of Endor.  Then, one day, Vader sent news that he had located the
main rebel base on Hoth, and was proceeding with his full armada
against it. The clever rebels received a lucky break, however, when
the fleet admiral brought the entire fleet out of hyperspace too close
to Hoth. Had the fleet remained out of scanner range, it could have
laid siege to the entire system and captured every last
rebel. Instead, the rebels were alerted and had time to raise a
planetary shield that Admiral Ozzel had not guessed they
possessed. The end result was a needless and costly ground battle.
Sacrificing many lives in a delaying action, the Alliance managed to
allow the escape of its command group. It was a rout, but it was not,
frustratingly, a final victory for Vader.  Palpatine received reports
that Lord Vader had committed the entire fleet to the capture of one
rebel ship, the freighter that had ended his defense of the first
Death Star. His obsession had finally gotten the better of him. There
was a scattered, demoralized, and defeated remnant of the Alliance out
there among the stars, and the time to finish them was now. There was
no time for foolish hunting games.  The Emperor stalked through the
corridors of the palace, in full view of his court. His body had
continued to age, after all, and it seemed to him that the decay might
even have become faster this time. But this "age" was the one by which
he was known to the galaxy, and so he could make public appearances,
denouncing the terrorist Alliance and justifying the military buildup
of the Empire.  In a way, public opinion was a thing of the past,
irrelevant. But he liked to maintain appearances. It pleased him to
let his people see him and know exactly who their master was.
Palpatine strode into the main communications room, a hive of
activity. Imperial Navy officers eyed him expectantly. They were
angered over Lord Vader's summary executions, and felt that the Dark
Lord was completely out of control. To mollify them, Palpatine had
decided to reprimand Vader in public to avoid a mutiny. As he entered,
the officers all knelt to him, bowing their heads. A nervous
technician worked the communications station, and began the job of
contacting the Executor. His fingers stumbled on the switches and he
glanced up, sweating, expecting a reprimand. But no one was watching
him. All eyes were on the Emperor, who had silently collapsed onto the
gleaming deck, to the open-mouthed shock of the entire gathering.

*   *   *

Sate Pestage tended to his master in the Imperial medical center, of
which an entire wing had been cleared to treat the mysterious
affliction that had overtaken the Emperor. The doctors were baffled
when they were told that they would not be needed, but they were
easily dealt with, and rumor control would soon have the matter in
hand. Pestage knew that his master was in a vision trance. It had
happened before in his presence, and he knew that all the Emperor
needed was rest and privacy. Palpatine lay on a bed, occasionally
whispering, eyes shut, his mind clearly elsewhere. This time, though,
Pestage found himself disturbed. He knew his master well, and
impossible as it may have seemed, Palpatine was afraid of what he was
"seeing."

A young man stood before the Emperor, clad in black. It was the son of
Skywalker. The Force was with him, and he had become a Jedi. He
regarded Palpatine with defiance.

The Emperor was falling. He was filled with fear and surprise, and
screamed all the way down. His body was ripped asunder by a collision
with gigantic energy discharges. His life force was swallowed into the
dark side, but this time, it was different. There was no immediate
rebirth, only a terrifying chaos with no end...

Somehow, these two images were linked, a part of the same possible
future. And Palpatine was very afraid.  The Emperor's eyes flew open,
startling Sate Pestage. The Grand Vizier had begun to sputter an
inquiry as to his master's state when Palpatine cut him off. "Contact
the Executor immediately. Send the signal to my own chamber. I require
a conference with Lord Vader." And that was that. Without another
word, Palpatine practically ran from the room, leaving Sate Pestage
gaping.

*   *   *

"What is thy bidding, my master?" asked Vader, on bended knee. Before
him was an enormous hologram of his master's hooded face.  "There is a
great disturbance in the Force," said Palpatine.  Vader merely
responded, "I have felt it."  Palpatine sternly stated, "We have a new
enemy. Luke Skywalker."  So, his dark master had finally come to
understand. Perhaps the great tremor in the Force had finally
convinced him.  Something important had happened while his forces had
been sifting through the asteroid field for the Millennium
Falcon. What it was, he didn't know, but all at once, his son had
become significant to the Emperor. Respectfully, he intoned, "Yes, my
master."  "He could destroy us," said Palpatine. Vader tried to hide
his surprise. His master must feel that his son was a threat indeed!
Vader had, for three years, cherished hidden plans deep inside him,
plans for his son. He knew he must downplay the boy's importance.
"He's just a boy. Obi-Wan can no longer help him."  But the Emperor
was adamant. "The Force is strong with him. The son of Skywalker must
not become a Jedi."  Vader knew this meant death for his son. The son
of Skywalker. His master would not even acknowledge the boy as Vader's
own, believing that when Anakin had "died," every last vestige of the
man was gone from Darth Vader. But something did remain, something he
himself did not fully understand. He wanted his son to live, and
rejoin him. Now Vader played his hand. "If he could be turned, he
would become a powerful ally."  To his surprise, the Emperor
agreed. "Yes. Yes. He would be a great asset. Can it be done?"  "He
will join us, or die, my master." Vader felt relief as the hologram
faded. He did not understand why the Emperor suddenly feared that his
son might become a Jedi. Could the boy have found a master? It did not
matter. He would be the boy's master. He would show his son the true
nature of the Force. He stood and moved to the doorway. There was much
to be done.

*   *   *

Palpatine sat in his throne, pensive. He wondered what the outcome of
their new course would be. He had agreed to Vader's suggestion because
there had been a third vision in his trance. He had seen Luke
Skywalker kneel before him, pledging servitude. My father's destiny is
my own. Vader had been absent in the vision.  Yes, perhaps it was for
the best. Vader had become... uncertain, of late. It may be time to
replace him, with another Skywalker.  Perhaps this other possible
future would negate the other two. The strange feeling was that he did
not know. It excited him, this uncertainty. He had a new enemy, for
the first time in years. He looked forward to their meeting. There was
much to be made ready for that meeting. Much to be done. Thinking upon
it, the Emperor laughed.