Star Wars: Valorum (Rewrite)

    A major rewrite of a short story I wrote for Destiny all the way back in 2012-2013.

VALORUM

Coruscant, c. 21 BBY

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine sipped from his cup of karlini tea as he stared out the wide expansive window of his office. Night had fallen in Galactic City, illuminated by the lights of skyscrapers and passing airspeeders. It was a sight he had always enjoyed since he had first come to Coruscant, and the view that the Chancellor’s Suite provided him was one he had prided himself in for the last decade.

Today had produced many results. Not only had the Senate succeeded in passing the Enhanced Security and Enforcement Act, giving him power that far extended those historically held by the office of Supreme Chancellor, but the nuisance that had been his predecessor Finis Valorum had been eliminated, one of the many casualties of the Separatists’ terrorist attack on the Star of Iskin. At least, that was how the Senate and the rest of the public saw the attack, but that was the only way they needed to see it. Regardless, it had been enough to convince even those who had been ambivalent on the bill to vote in its favor. Yes, there were outliers such as Senators Organa and Mothma, but they were never going to be swayed. So long as they remained few in number, they posed little threat to him.

As he swiveled around in his chair to set his cup down on his desk, the doors to his office opened to allow Vice Chair Mas Amedda in. The Chagrian’s blue face was as stoic as always and the long twin horns extending from his cranium gave him an imperious look. It was a useful appearance for directing the Senate in heated debates but hardly enough to rule over the Republic itself, as much as Amedda may have wanted it. It had been many years since the galaxy had seen a non-human Chancellor and Palpatine knew that there would not be one anytime soon. 

Still, he could not help but pity his Vice Chancellor’s pitiful and ironic existence. There had been a time, as recent as a few years ago, that Mas Amedda would have considered Finis Valorum to be a friend. Despite having been appointed to his position by the Rim Faction for the sole purpose of bogging Valorum down with pointless squabbles and weakening his grip over the Senate, Amedda had come to respect the beleaguered Chancellor for his headstrong attitude and genuine desire to restore the Republic to the glory it had enjoyed under the leadership of his ancestors. The Chagrian had even gone as far as to foil an assassination attempt against Valorum during his short tenure as the Chancellor’s Vice Chair.

And today, at the behest of the man he now served under, Mas Amedda had played a role in killing the man he had once protected all those years ago.

If it bothered Amedda, the Chagrian did not show it. Had he been asked to do it six years ago, he would have possibly balked at the request and perhaps even report it to the Senate. But ever since Palpatine had revealed his true nature and plans for the Republic to him, Amedda had devoted himself to bringing about the New Order that Palpatine envisioned and was more than willing to forgo everything he had once stood for as well as his friendships, including the one he once had with Valorum.

If only everyone could be as malleable as Mas Amedda. Perhaps then, Palpatine would already be Emperor by now.

As Amedda approached the Chancellor’s desk, a datapad in his hand, Palpatine smiled warmly at his pawn. “What news do you have to bring me at this late hour, my friend?”

“A letter just arrived from Senator Organa’s office,” Amedda replied, tone clipped and formal as always. “He proposes that a statue for the late Finis Valorum should be installed at the Chancellery Walkway in the Jrade District.”

Palpatine raised an eyebrow. “Is that all? I was expecting something in regards to the Security Act. Although I shouldn’t be too surprised; after all, Valorum and Organa had been exchanging words before his… tragic passing.”

Amedda nodded once, his stony face a blank slate. Palpatine studied him for a brief moment, using the Force to peer into his mind and scour for the slightest hint of remorse. A cursory scan produced nothing, which was satisfactory enough for him.

After feigning contemplation for a moment, Palpatine finally said, “I suppose there is no harm in such a memorial, although I’m not sure others in the Senate have such a high opinion of Valorum as Organa does. Historically, the Walkway has been reserved for influential Chancellors, such as Eddicus, Soh, Mezzileen, even Valorum’s own ancestor Tarsus. I’m not sure dear Finis can be held in such a regard.”

“How would you like to respond, then?”

“Tell Senator Organa that I would be more than happy to install a monument memorializing my predecessor. But it can wait until morning; right now, I believe we have earned a night’s rest.”

As Palpatine rose from his seat, the doors opened again and an older man in elegant maroon robes came striding into the room. Mas Amedda barely hid a scowl of distaste from his face; the one-sided rivalry between him and Sate Pestage was not at all lost on Palpatine. As Pestage was one of Palpatine’s most trusted advisers and designated spokesperson, the Chagrian no doubt saw him as a threat to his position as Vice Chancellor. While Palpatine had no plans on replacing Amedda any time soon, he had elected to not provide the Vice Chair with any words of reassurance; it was far more amusing to watch the two of them clash for his approval.

Naturally, Palpatine saw this as an opportune time to add fuel to the fire. “Pestage, my old friend,” he greeted the other man enthusiastically. “I must commend you for your performance today. Thanks to your actions, the Security Act passed successfully and the Republic is now safer and stronger than—”

“Valorum is still alive,” Pestage interjected.

All mirth, fabricated or otherwise, faded from Palpatine’s face and he stared at Pestage with his mouth still agape. “What?” he uttered in a deadly whisper.

“My spies spotted him in the lower levels of Uscru District hours after the incident,” Pestage went on. “Apparently he was not on the freighter when it exploded.”

Palpatine’s eyes narrowed into slits, his lips forming a thin line. “Yet they said they saw him boarding the Star of Iskin….”

“Yes, Chancellor. Right now, we can only speculate what happened. Either Valorum got off at the last moment or he might have used a body double—”

“Wild speculation is of no use to me,” Palpatine snapped. “I want your agents to find Valorum and eliminate him before he tries to get off planet again. Once they’ve done that, I want them to hold onto his body until I can see it for myself.”

“As you wish,” Pestage replied. “Where shall I have them keep his body?”

“The LiMerge Building will do.”

“Then by your will, it shall be done.”

With that, Pestage swiftly departed from the Chancellor’s office. Mas Amedda followed suit not long after, realizing that he no longer had any role in this operation. Left alone once more, Palpatine turned to face the window again and stare out into the Coruscanti night.

Clearly, the day was far from over. 

*  *  *

As soon as Pestage had reported that Valorum had been found and “dealt with,” Palpatine had excused himself from his office and took his private shuttle to the Works, Coruscant’s immense industrial sector. It was there that his secret hideout at the LiMerge Building was located, where he—as the Dark Lord of the Sith Darth Sidious—conspired with his minions and moved the pieces necessary towards fulfilling the Sith’s Grand Plan. The route the shuttle took was a long and winding one, designed to throw off any potential pursuers. It also gave Darth Sidious the opportunity to contemplate and reflect, which Valorum’s unexpected survival had certainly given him cause to do so.

He considered if he had perhaps underestimated his predecessor. While the Valorums had once been a respected Republic dynasty, their power had wilted in the past few centuries and indeed had not been seen since the chancellorship of Eixes Valorum. Finis, on the other hand, had constantly lived in the shadows of his others, whether it be his ancestors or allied families such as the Kalpanas or the Tarkins. Indeed, had it not been for his name and the powerful connections that came with it, Finis would have been laughed off by the members of the Senate and would not have come within an arm’s reach of the chancellorship.

But perhaps there was more to Valorum than Sidious had previously considered. After all, he had won a second term against all odds, in spite of his declining popularity. Yes, it was likely he had tugged at the same strings that he had pulled in order to get himself elected in the first place… but Sidious could not help if there had been more to it than just that. Both he and his master Darth Plagueis had simply seen Valorum as a useful tool, and his reelection had done little more than to serve their plans. But what if they had not been studying Valorum as closely as they should have?

Sidious recalled a tale Plagueis had once told him, some twenty years prior. It was said that during the Republic’s Dark Age a millennium ago, a family of Force-users had arisen to brief prominence. Known as the Valor family, their members consisted of mostly Jedi save for one; a man named Espaa Valor, who joined the Sith Order of Darth Mortilus and dubbed himself Valorum, Knight of the Sith. What fate befell this Valorum, and whether or not he had actually existed, was lost as a result of Darth Mortilus’s Great Purge. When a man named Tarsus Valorum rose to prominence a century later, no one had been able to feasibly connect him to the fabled Sith Knight—not even the Sith themselves.

When Plagueis had told this story to Sidious, in response to Finis Valorum’s recent prominence thanks to his involvement in the Stark Hyperspace War, the Muun Sith Master had merely presented it as a curious tale rather than to indicate that the young Senator Valorum was a descendant of a Sith. Indeed, Sidious had dismissed the story and had since then viewed Valorum as nothing more than a tool. But now that his predecessor had somehow found a way to foil his plan to assassinate him, he could not help but wonder if there was more substance to the story than either he or Plagueis had suspected.

When his shuttle finally arrived at the LiMerge Building, swooping into the hangar bay and slowly touching down on the rusted durasteel floor, Sidious could see through the viewport that two hooded individuals were already waiting for him with what could only be the body of Finis Valorum. The former chancellor’s body was limp and unmoving, his head hanging low, leading Sidious to infer that his assassins had at least succeeded in finally killing their target.

As he stepped down the lowered ramp of his shuttle, Sidious got a better look at one of the two hooded individuals. His dark, leathery skin identified him as a Weequay and Sidious knew this to be the former Jedi Master Sora Bulq, one of the Dark Acolytes in the service of Sidious and his apprentice Darth Tyranus. It had been Bulq who, through the middle-man Senator Viento, arranged for the attack on the Star of Iskin, which itself had been orchestrated from higher up by Sate Pestage and Mas Amedda. The entire plot had had a number of layers, making it even more perplexing to Sidious that it had not gone entirely as planned.

Bowing his head to the Dark Lord, Sora Bulq said, “The Anzat assassin tracked Valorum down to the lower levels and finished him off. I have already sent her off with her payment.”

“Is he dead?” Sidious asked, eying Valorum’s unmoving body.

Bulq nodded to the other hooded individual and they dropped Valorum’s body to the floor, rolling him onto his back. Sidious was met with lifeless blue eyes and a ghastly face frozen in fatal shock. Blood had dried up underneath his nose and formed a crimson layer of crust above his upper lip. The Dark Lord could only imagine that the former chancellor’s murderer had killed him via the Anzati’ preferred method of draining their victims of their “soup.”

“I suppose that settles it then,” Sidious said lightly. “Excellent work. I will leave it to you to dispose of his body.”

“My lord, if I may,” the other hooded individual spoke up.

Sidious turned to them and got his first good look of the mysterious figure. Their hood covered up most of their face, not unlike how Sidious’s hid his own, but the Dark Lord could still make out the pale, ashen face of a human male. It only took Sidious a moment to identify the man as Cronal, a member of the Prophets of the Dark Side. Not so long ago, Sidious had rediscovered the ancient dark side cult on Dromund Kaas and recruited them to his cause. Cronal in particular had attracted his interest and he had tasked the Prophet with creating dark side experiments, much like Plagueis himself had before his tragic demise. Sidious knew that Pestage had summoned Cronal here to Coruscant for matters related to the Prophet’s macabre creations; no doubt he had managed to weasel his way into becoming involved in the plot against Valorum. He would be someone to keep an eye on, Sidious knew that for sure.

Regarding Cronal carefully from beneath the rim of his hood, Sidious said, “What is it?”

“I was wondering if I could perhaps use this man’s body for my… experiments.”

Sidious raised an eyebrow, although it could not be seen by Cronal. “And what possible use could be found in a dead man’s body?”

“Many things, my lord,” Cronal humbly replied. “Things that have perhaps never before been dreamt of. The dark side is, as you say, a pathway to many unnatural things.”

Sidious could not help but smile. He knew there was a reason Cronal had intrigued him so; the two of them were alike in so many ways. Which also made Cronal a potential threat to his future rule, moreso than even the Supreme Prophet himself. He would need to be broken in order to ensure his dedicated loyalty, that much the Dark Lord was certain. Still, he sensed no ill-intent against him on Cronal’s part, and he did need to get Valorum’s off Coruscant somehow….

“Very well,” Sidious said after a moment. “You may take the body to Dromund Kaas. Do what you will with it, so long as it does not distract you from the work I have given you.”

Cronal grinned, genuine elation lighting up his ashen face. “Thank you, my lord. I will not disappoint you.”

“See to it that you don’t,” Sidious said darkly. “For your sake.” 

Dromund Kaas

Finis Valorum awoke with an agonized scream, his pained cries reverberating against the walls of the dark chamber he found himself within. His body lurched upward only to be pushed back down by a cold metal hand pressing down on his bare chest. His arms were pulled down and locked into restraints attached to the medical slab he was laying on, while a larger one was closed around his waist, securing him in place.

“Where am I?” he screamed into the darkness, unable to see who or what was surrounding him.

“Calm yourself,” a cold voice answered in response. A figure moved in the shadows and Valorum could barely make out what appeared to be an old man dressed in black robes. “You are safe here. There is no need for you to fret.”

Valorum gawked at the mysterious figure standing in front of him. “P-Palpatine?” he whispered. “Is that… is that you?”

A mirthless cackle greeted his ears. “No, but good guess. My name is Cronal. I am the reason you are alive.”

“What happened?” Valorum asked, confusion subsiding his initial fear and shock. “The woman… the Anzat… I thought I was dead.”

“You remember, then? You remember what happened to you, who you are?”

“Of course I do. I am Finis Valorum, Supreme—former Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. I remember… I remember getting off the Star of Iskin before it took off, before it exploded. I remember going into the lower levels and running into that Anzat woman….”

“What about before then? Your life prior to becoming Chancellor.”

Valorum racked his brain; such memories were admittedly foggy. He had been through so much, after all. “I… I was born on Coruscant fifty-six years before the Great ReSynchronization. I served as Senator of the Lytton sector and a member of Chancellor Kalpana’s administration. I remember the Stark Hyperspace War… my election to chancellorship… the Yinchorri Uprising… the Eriadu Trade Summit… the Invasion of Naboo… my removal from office….”

“Excellent,” said Cronal. He raised his head to look at someone else that Valorum could not see; no doubt the owner of the metal hand, if he were to presume. “It would appear the memory imprinting was a success.”

“It is too early to tell,” growled a voice that sent chills down Valorum’s spine. “The process is still a new one, untested. Previous subjects have been known to decline in mental stability, resulting in insanity.”

“I am aware,” Cronal replied. “Which is why I want to test the armor on him.”

“Your faith in that abhorrent creation of yours will be your undoing.”

Cronal chuckled. “You are one to talk, are you not, Zeta Magnus? There is a reason I designed it after yourself.”

“Your pithy tributes mean nothing to me,” Zeta Magnus snarled back. “It is fortunate that the Dark Lord sees you as a valuable asset. Otherwise, I would not hesitate in devouring you for your words alone.”

“Truly, a man after my own heart,” Cronal said, a hint of irony in his voice. To a third unseen figure, he said, “Prepare the armor.”

Suddenly, Valorum felt the medical slab raise up as the restraints around his wrists and waist released him from their hold. He nearly fell to the floor only to be caught by Cronal, who then began to walk him over to a tall crimson figure. As they approached, the figure shifted as panels opened up and expanded, revealing a cavity that was large enough for an average human male to fit in.

Valorum opened his mouth to vocalize some form of protest but no words came out as a pair of metal appendages lowered from the ceiling and clamped over his shoulders. They hoisted him up, over the suit of armor, before slowly lowering him into it. Once he was in place, the mechanical arms retracted and the suit began to close up around him. A third appendage then lowered with a helmet between its clamps, situated to place it over the former chancellor’s head. Valorum’s eyes darted to Cronal, standing in front of him to admire his handiwork, and once more opened his mouth to say something. Any words he was about to speak died on his lips as the helmet covered his head and locked securely into place.

Within the dark confines of the helmet, Valorum heard a dark voice speak into his head. “Do you know who you are?” it whispered to him.

“I am Finis Valorum,” he answered, almost automatically.

“No,” it said to him. “You are Atha Prime.”

“No,” Valorum objected, albeit not as strongly as he had hoped it would sound. “I am Finis Valorum—”

“You are Atha Prime.” 

“I am Finis—”

“You are Atha Prime.”

“I am Finis—”

“We are Atha Prime.”

“I am—”

“We are—”

A pair of red lights lit up in the visor of the armor’s helmet. They found Cronal, who regarded his creation with a sense of paternal pride.

“I,” the metal monstrosity once known as Finis Valorum spoke for the first time, its deep voice reverberating against the walls of the dark chamber, “am Atha Prime.”

FINIS