Jedi Insurgency 282 (Interlude 43)

(Rewinding time back to the Battle of Coruscant) 

The Jedi Temple on Coruscant was shattered and broken to hell & back, yet miraculously, the throne room had survived. 

Its vast windows had shattered beneath the fury of the [Force Storm], leaving the chamber exposed to the wounded skyline of Coruscant. Smoke rolled between the towers in black rivers, fires yet burned across entire districts, and far below, emergency sirens wailed without pause. 

Resting in a floating medical repulsor-chair, practically bathing in bacta, Palpatine was wrapped in a heavy black mantle that concealed the worst of his injuries. One arm rested uselessly across his lap, and his legs were floppy like pool noodles. 

Across his exposed skin clustered hundreds of pale blemishes, each no larger than a grain of salt. Scattered over his brow, cheeks, throat, and fingers, they caused a constant amount of pain. Some dimmed only for others to flare in their place. The marks were remnants of Yoda’s final attack, splinters the [Wall of Light] embedded so deeply within Palpatine’s flesh and spirit that neither bacta nor the Darkside could remove them.

Whilst not life threatening, the white spots burned ceaselessly and without rhythm, eating at his concentration with innumerable pinpricks of agony. Whenever he gathered the Darkside around himself, the white spots brightened in answer, consuming a fraction of his strength. It was a final indignity inflicted by a dead Jedi.

As for the only other occupant within the chamber…he was sitting upon the throne. 

He wore black, though no life-support armor enclosed him. A dark tunic clung to a body restored to its full height and power. His shoulders were broad, his limbs whole, his skin a healthy tan, and a fresh mop of hair fluttered in the wind. His golden eyes burned in the dim chamber. Brooding, and leaning forward with his hands coming together, his handsome face was one being spread across the Holonet on all channels right now. The Force clung to him as if he were their one and only Champion. He was:

Crown Prince Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith. 

The Force sang his title, searing it into Palpatine’s mind: CHOSEN ONE. 

A hidden grimace spread across Palpatine’s face. He did not understand what had possessed Revan to heal the boy…but should he survive this night, Palpatine would make the masked man regret such a decision. 

Vader’s gaze drifted to the useless arm, then to the repulsor-chair. Finally, his eyes settled upon the white points scattered over Palpatine’s face. At that moment, one of the spots flared white hot bright, eliciting a mocking smile from the young Sith Lord. 

The Emperor’s jaw tightened despite himself, refusing to be made a fool. 

“Congratulations, Your Majesty. The Jedi have been driven from Coruscant. Victory is yours.” Vader smirked, gesturing towards the broken skyline. 

“Yoda is no more. I leave the rest in your capable hands.” Palpatine calmly stated. “Our agents are searching for them as we speak.” 

Palpatine felt rage rise within him, but smothered it before it could reach his face. Anger would accomplish nothing. Vader wanted a reaction. More importantly, he could tell the youth was testing him, Vader was waiting to discover whether his master still possessed the strength to punish insolence.

Palpatine theorized he could atomize the two of them at the same time, but that was a fool's errand. Even now, injured and diminished, he could summon power equal to that of Mace Windu. He could crush ordinary Jedi, slaughter soldiers by the hundred, and tear durasteel from the walls. But such power came only in brief surges. The battle had exhausted him beyond anything he had endured in decades. The white fragments of Yoda’s light gnawed at every reserve he attempted to call upon. Against the reborn Vader, one surge would not be enough.

“The battle did not unfold as I intended.” Palpatine admitted, allowing weariness to soften his voice. “I underestimated the depths of Yoda’s power.”

“Eighteen years, Master. You were Chancellor for eighteen years, and yet for all that planning, this is the result. A fractured Empire held together by the thinnest transparisteel wire, and the sharpness of one impressionable youth's blade.” Vader said, mocking both himself and Palpatine. 

For an instant, Palpatine imagined the room exploding around them. He pictured Vader’s restored body twisted into ruin once more, every healed bone shattered, every nerve set ablaze until the young man begged for the mercy of his old armor. A cluster of white suns brightened along his throat, and pain made him see reason. 

“You should rest, Master, let me worry about this Empire of ours.” Vader dismissed, leaning back on his throne as if the affairs of the broken world surrounding them mattered very little. Yet his words suggested one thing: Palpatine would not leave this room alive. 

Palpatine offered a thin, grandfatherly smile, the same expression he had once worn while listening to a nine-year-old slave boy speak breathlessly about podracing. “Do not worry about this old man. Instead, let us discuss your future. It pleases me to see your spirit restored with your body, my friend. You have endured more than any man should. Yet you stand before me whole again.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Anakin, I preserved your life. I rushed to Mustafar before your duel ended, so concerned over your safety was I. I named you my heir long before your recovery…a powerful holocron, fleets, weapons, the destruction of the Hutt leadership. There is nothing I have not given you.” Palpatine said in a weak, emotional tone. 

Yet like a drug addict dealing with loving, enabling parents. Vader was having none of it. 

“You preserved a weapon. Do not think I am ignorant about that prison's schematics.” Vader darkly uttered, referring to the heavy suit he had worn. “If you truly wish it, I could grant you that life support system now.” 

Palpatine raised his head as much as his damaged spine permitted. “Would you have preferred death on Mustafar?”

“I would have preferred honesty. In the end, it was Revan who resurrected my wife. Have you ever told me the truth?” Vader asked in a mercurial, somewhat emotional tone. 

Something of Anakin Skywalker had surfaced, not that of the naïve Jedi, nor the frightened boy desperate to save his wife, but the proud young general who had hated being deceived and hated even more the realization that he had allowed it. Vader’s ridicule carried that old, familiar heat. He sounded younger without the respirator, more human, and somehow more dangerous for it. Yet for all that, Palpatine knew this boy well, better, perhaps, than he knew himself. He had groomed the boy for years, after all. 

“Then honesty is what I shall give you.” Palpatine said, sounding incredibly genuine and charismatic. 

For a second, Vader paused in his brooding, regarding this grandfather figure of his with a conflicted heart. 

“You have surpassed the limitations imposed upon you, my son. Your connection to the Force has been renewed, perhaps even strengthened. You are once again everything I knew you could become.” Palpatine said, as real, tangible admiration entered his voice. “The loss of your potential was my greatest regret.”

Vader gave a quiet laugh, there was no humor in it as he phished for an answer. “I imagine it ranked somewhere beneath the loss of your windows.”

 “I truly mean what I said.” Palpatine said, 100% truthfully. 

Vader’s right hand rested near his lightsaber. He could ignite it now. One motion, one red flash, and the Emperor’s head would leave his shoulders. Palpatine saw the thought pass behind those golden eyes. Vader did not announce it, did not threaten or posture. He simply looked at the frail neck exposed above the black mantle and calculated the angle. And yet…he hesitated. The Force told him everything the old man said…was true! How was this possible? 

Palpatine, for his part, had cultivated this ambition, he had encouraged it as the natural order of the Sith, confident that Vader’s ruined body would never permit him to act upon it. Now the cage had vanished, and the creature inside remembered who had locked him there.

“You no longer require a master to command you.” Palpatine said, your chains have been broken, Lord Vader. 

Vader’s fingers paused beside his weapon.

“The throne is yours.” Palpatine sighed, bowing his head. 

For the first time since taking this seat, Vader’s expression changed. No longer was he the brooding young man, but for a second, he was the boy looking towards anyone, anyone who would give him the smallest ounce of affection, of approval. When surrounded by the sea of jealousy in the Order, it was only ever Palpatine that gave him steady advice and encouragement. Although he now knew the truth, had damned himself for all time due to his betrayal, he still couldn't find the will to off the old man. 

Palpatine continued before the young man could think deeper upon their byplay. “I always intended for you to succeed me. The Sith cannot be ruled forever by an old man clinging to power. That is the failing of lesser tyrants. I sought an heir capable of imposing true order upon the galaxy, and now that your strength has returned, there is no longer any reason to deny you what is rightfully yours.”

“How generous. You expect me to believe you would simply abdicate?” Vader asked, masking his earlier emotion with a hint of aggression. 

“When the proper moment comes, yes.” Palpatine replied with a sly, comforting smile. 

Vader’s hand drifted slightly nearer to his saber, he could practically feel its cool metallic touch. There it was again. The choice. The brief, delicious certainty that he could end everything Palpatine had built with the movement of one restored wrist. Conflict roared in his heart. Love & hatred oozed through him. The lies were many, but up until this point, Palpatine had never once struck him unless it was during training. Nor had he made fun of him for his handicap. 

“...” Vader remained silent, leaning back in his seat to brood once more. 

“Look outside.” Palpatine gestured weakly toward the broken windows. “Coruscant has suffered catastrophic damage. Entire districts have been destroyed. The people are terrified. The military is divided, the bureaucracy paralyzed, and countless worlds will awaken tomorrow wondering whether the Empire can protect them. Someone must bear responsibility.”

Vader found himself subconsciously nodding. He would not have the beginning of his rule mired by the destruction of a full tenth of Coruscant. 

Palpatine leaned back, allowing his body to appear every bit as broken as it was. “Let them blame me. Let the Senate curse my name behind closed doors. Let the governors and admirals whisper that age diminished my judgment. I will accept their anger and absorb their fear. Together, we will rebuild the capital, restore the chain of command, and stabilize the Empire.”

“And then?” Vader questioned sharply, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice. 

“You know very well, my friend.” Palpatine gave a pitiless grin. 

Vader glanced again toward Coruscant. From this height, the emergency transports looked like glowing insects swarming over a carcass. The Empire was more than the throne room. It was ten thousand ministries, sector commands, shipyards, intelligence bureaus, governors, propagandists, banks, and frightened officials. They all obeyed Palpatine because he had spent decades teaching them that he was the center of the galaxy.

Vader could kill him, but should he act on this moment of passion, those contacts, believers, and capable ministers would vanish like smoke. To truly hold power, he would have to slowly insert his own people. Then, when all the cogs of bureaucracy answered to Vader, then he would once more consider ending the Emperor. 

Palpatine sensed the calculation going on in his student's mind, and gestured with a weak wave of the hands. “You are a General, Lord Vader. You understand that seizing the enemy’s command center is not the same as controlling his territory. If you take the throne now, every failure becomes yours. I do not wish to see the public turn against you so soon. Please, I implore you, allow this old man to share the burden with you this one last time.” 

“So you would remain Emperor for my benefit.” Vader raised an eyebrow in bemusement. 

“I would remain the target, whilst you undertake the great work of stabilizing this galaxy at war.” Palpatine bowed his head. 

Vader suddenly jumped directly before the repulsor-chair. From there he towered over his master. Palpatine had once delighted in making others kneel before him; now he had no choice but to look upward.

Palpatine met his gaze. There was neither defiance or pleading in him, just a silent acceptance of the status quo. 

Vader could feel how diminished Palpatine was. The Emperor’s power remained formidable, but it came in ragged waves. His body was a wreck, his spirit punctured by Yoda’s lingering light. Palpatine was no longer an unbeatable master whose existence pressed constantly against Vader’s throat. He was a wounded animal confined to a chair, dangerous only when cornered.

Vader did not need to kill him today, because he knew he could kill him tomorrow. Or the day after that. Each passing week, he grew stronger. Before long, Palpatine would be like an ant to him. The realization was more satisfying than winning the Boonta Eve Classic. 

Vader withdrew his murderous intent, and ‘lovingly’ stroked the Emperor’s melted, waxy-like scalp, ‘accidentally’pressing upon several white sun spots at the same time.  

Palpatine-already in excruciating pain-hurried to speak to stop this vile apprentice of his from petting him like some exotic animal.

“There is also the matter of your education. Beneath the Imperial Palace lie archives no Jedi has seen in a thousand years. Holocrons recovered from Korriban, Ziost, Malachor, and worlds whose names were erased before the Republic existed. Rituals of transformation. Methods of binding spirits. Secrets of life, death, essence, and the manipulation of the Force itself.”

“You speak as if you have given me everything I asked for, and yet so much remains.” Vader coldly stated. 

“This was power I once withheld because your damaged body could not survive it.” Palpatine’s expression softened into something perilously close to paternal pride. “That is no longer a concern. Everything I possess will be opened to you.”

Vader wordlessly pushed the hover-chair towards the chamber, eventually entering the repository of accumulated Sith knowledge. Whilst in the chamber, several artifacts rattled due to his presence, however, one object flew right at him. 

‘Strange, that holocron had always been inert.’ Palpatine thought to himself with a concealed frown. 

The second Vader touched it, he was greeted by a red skinned alien. He was a man of few words, but he introduced himself as: 

Vitiate. 

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