Star Wars - Emperor 1 - New Ene

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A New Enemy

By Brendon Wahlberg (bwahlber+@pitt.edu)

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

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

the Jedi had practically set their necks to the blade. Disheartened

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

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

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

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