Interlude: Palpatine (Patreon)

 Interlude: Palpatine

Yan Dooku was dead.

A setback, to be sure.

He had been so close to turning him. So close to moving the pieces just enough for the man to listen. And once he began listening, his fall was assured.

And then the door had been slammed shut.

Failure left a bitter taste, but he was no stranger to it. All beings experienced failure, though this one rankled more than most.

He would have been the perfect tool. Positioned precisely where he needed to be, strong in the Force, well trained, skilled in an easily beatable form of combat rather than the true mysteries of the Force.

He would have made the path forward so much simpler.

Regardless, it was useless to bemoan his self-imposed fate. There were many other concerns spilling over from the events of station 13611.

The Jedi knew he existed, now, in a way that couldn’t be denied by the fools sitting in their tower.

Their response had been remarkably fast, especially for the stagnant Order Palpatine had grown so contemptuous of.

The Jedi were expanding again.

An enclave on Zygerria of all places. The law was firm; he couldn’t interfere, especially on such short notice. There were talks of others as well. Even planets petitioning the Jedi to expand into their systems.

No, it would take time to subtly rally the support needed to strangle that expansion effort. Time and political resources.

That fool, Taa, as well, had apparently been wrangled into something stupid while Palpatine had been away. Agreeing to join the coalition against slavery, spearheaded by Mandalore, Corellia, Kuat, Naboo and Alderaan.

No doubt Alexandria’s little pet project.

He could appreciate her gumption, if not her timing.

Had she somehow known he was indisposed? Or was it simply ill fortune on his part?

And now there were reports of Clan Wren rushing off to aid Ryloth… ‘independently’ of the Mandalorian government. He didn’t believe that for a second, but without evidence to back up direct accusations, the Clan’s historical opposition to Satine was acting well as a smokescreen. And the clan was being remarkably tight-lipped, even to his spies.

Look away for one second, and there were so many many complications…

The Hutts were getting angrier by the day. War could still be delayed. And it needed to be, at least until all the pieces were in place to unleash the corporations and their interests to burn down the Republic, along with the Jedi who would rise to defend it.

And still, even more concerning…

The Force.

He had sensed… something. Something great and terrible, moving across the currents and eddies of the Force during his duel with the insipid Jedi Masters. It felt vast and cold.

Similar to Alexandria.

He wasn’t sure what it was – already his proxies had sent polite inquiries requesting reports from the Jedi as to what exactly had occurred on Station 13611. Not an unusual request, considering the manpower being sent to the station to investigate. Thirty Jedi entering a system was unusual enough that questions would be asked: what motivated this mobilization?

If the Jedi tried to hide the information, his proxies would ask him to speak reason to them… and he would make certain the Jedi understood the need to be clear and honest with the people of the galaxy.

Once he read their reports, he could deduce what exactly had caused that shudder in the Force. And determine what exactly he would do to either take advantage of it, or destroy it.

But that was a task for the Chancellor. For Palpatine.

For today… for today, he was still Sidious.

His steps echoed through the sepulchral halls of this hidden safehouse. Cold blue lighting cast long shadows across the metals and wiring.

The door hissed open.

Komari Vosa, Dooku’s one time Padawan and now his very lacking replacement, lay there, breathing through a tube, her eyes glassy with drugs, swiveling towards him as the medical droids continued their work.

He stepped forward, the kindly visage of Palpatine slipping over his face with practiced ease, but she wasn’t fooled. She knew it was a mask.

He kept it up regardless.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She couldn’t answer, he knew that. Even without the tube down her throat, most of her body was completely numb due to the drugs.

She blinked, and he could hear her heartbeat beginning to increase ever so slightly.

Good.

“Your Master is dead,” he said kindly, as though he were discussing some happy accident. “That should make you very happy.”

He saw her eyes widen, the orbs darting around in her skull. Not in panic, not quite. Confusion. Alarm.

The part that was the little Padawan had never truly disappeared, had she?

Not entirely, anyway.

Sidious smiled.

“I’m afraid that was not part of my plans, dear,” he drawled, bringing her eyes back to him.

Her pulse began to quicken.

His smile turned predatory.

“You,” he hissed, “will serve my purposes… as best you are able, in his place.”

The sudden anger gave her focus. Her gaze sharpened, and as numb as she was, she still found the strength to move her head from side to side, a denial.

His smile didn’t even twitch.

He turned his eyes away from hers, towards the cybernetics now lining the inside of her stomach.

“It really is remarkable… how much damage a single blow delivered… and how much your anger and fear sustained you,” he commented idly.

Another curiosity. That Jedi with such titanic strength. Could she have been that echo in the Force? Or was she simply prodigious in Force Enhancement in a way few others were? Rare talents were known to occur from time to time.

Still, thoughts for later. For now....

“Ruptured spleen, stomach, one bruised kidney, another hemorrhaged… '' he laughed. “All requiring so much… help. Such…” and now he turned his eyes back to her, “delicate insides, keeping you alive.”

It took a moment, but her eyes widened with dawning, horrified understanding.

Her heart beat so fast now that the droid began moving to insert another needle to calm her down.

She tried to squirm away, knowing that she was in no place where she was guaranteed to wake up again.

Palpatine held out his hand, grasping the droid’s instrument and holding it at bay.

He leaned close, whispering in the girl's ear.

“There is a thermal detonator… hiding within the mess of false organs and grafts that are keeping you alive…” His voice was so very soft. “You will serve. And you will serve obediently. Or….”

Her breathing was rapid, her chest heaving. Palpatine saw the tears beginning to leak down the sides of her face to her ears, to get lost in her pale hair.

She understood her place.

He pulled away, hands clasped behind his back as he showed his teeth… smiling down at the now terrified girl.

“Rest well, dear apprentice,” he whispered mockingly “We have much work to get done once you’ve recovered.”