CHAPTER THREE
Hosk Station
“That could have gone better.”
Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan and member of the New Republic Provisional Council, sighed as she gazed out one of the viewports of Hosk Station, overlooking the planet of Kalarba. The blue-green planet lied on the edge of the Hevvrol sector, a territory that had been hotly contested between the Republic and the Empire since Endor, although now that Moff Lankin had been bottled up at Rintonne, the sector was more or less considered liberated by the Republic.
Mere moments ago, she had met with Moff Quarsh Panaka, governor of the nearby planet of Naboo, in the hopes of convincing the Imperial forces to stand down and avoid a conflict over the planet. She had hoped to appeal to his loyalty to Queen Amidala, who had stood for the very same ideals that the Rebellion itself had been built on, only for him to refute her attempts, claiming his loyalty lied with Naboo and not with its monarch, and was steadfast in defending it from any attack the New Republic brought to the Mid Rim world.
Anyone else probably would have balked at even attempting to seek peace from an Imperial Moff. But Leia knew more about Panaka than she did most Moffs. She had first met the man during her time with the Apprentice Legislature, and her mother had even suggested that Panaka was better than most members of the Emperor’s inner circle. Perhaps it had been because of her mother’s words that Leia thought she could sway Panaka away from his position and make peace with the Republic. But alas, it was not to be.
She wasn’t sure what would come next. She still needed to report this to the rest of the Council, and they would likely discuss a course of action from there. As it stood now, Naboo wasn’t in much danger of being captured by either Delvardus or Lankin, the two warlords whose territories Naboo laid between on the standard galactic grid. And as far as Leia knew, Panaka had no interest in either joining one of the warlords or declaring himself as one, remaining loyal to whatever was left of the Ruling Council. Whether the Ruling Council would come through to defend Naboo from the New Republic or stay holed up in the Core remained to be seen.
As she reflected on her conversation with Panaka and wondered what the future held, she heard the door behind her opened and she looked over her shoulder to see a woman with long black hair walk in. She wore the distinctive green jumpsuit of an A-wing pilot underneath a brown jacket, and she sharply stood to attention in Leia’s presence.
“Your Highness,” said Shara Bey. “How did your meeting go?”
“Not the way I had hoped,” Leia said ruefully. “Moff Panaka seems resolute in keeping his hold over Naboo and will stand up to any move we make to liberate the planet.”
“With all due respect, Your Highness, but… were you really expecting a different outcome?”
“No,” Leia admitted. “But I saw an opportunity to reach a different one. Unfortunately, I’m afraid it is simply not meant to be.”
Shara simply nodded, looking unsure on how to respond. The woman had served with distinction at the Battle of Endor flying with Green Squadron, and after Mindor had been reassigned to serve as Leia’s personal pilot during her mission to the Mid Rim. Leia appreciated her company for this excursion; in a way, Shara reminded her of her old friend Evaan Verlaine, who was otherwise preoccupied with a mission of her own. Shara offered a perspective that Leia, as a beleaguered diplomat, would perhaps otherwise miss. Usually someone like Han or Luke would provide such insight, but they themselves had their own businesses to deal with, just as she had hers.
At the same time, Leia felt bad for keeping Shara away from her family. She knew that the woman had a three-year-old son waiting for her, and yet the war against the Empire was far from over, keeping Shara from returning home for good. She could only hope that her mission wouldn’t put Shara into any danger that would cost her her life, and that she would one day be able to return home in one piece.
Leia hoped to have a family of her own someday. She and Han had tried for one recently; it had been a spur of the moment decision, in the wake of the grueling campaigns against Trioculus and Shadowspawn. But nothing had seemed to come of it, and perhaps that was for the best. The last thing she needed was a child on top of everything else she was dealing with now.
She was broken from her thoughts when Shara cleared her throat. “So,” the pilot said, “is it off to Naboo then?”
“Not yet,” Leia replied. “I need to report back to the Council and figure out what the next best course of action is. I know Ackbar’s fleets are being kept busy by Delvardus and his ilk.”
“Have you tried reaching out to the Queen yet? Surely she has a say on where Naboo stands.”
Leia shook her head. “Panaka has cut her off from communicating directly with any worlds outside of the sector. All communication with the Queen has to go through him, and that bridge has already been burned.”
Shara rubbed her chin in thought. “Maybe we can find another line of communication.”
Leia raised an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”
“You said the Queen can’t contact anyone outside of her sector. If we travel to one of the worlds in the Chommell sector, then maybe we can find someone who has a direct line to her and seek an audience with her through that.”
“It would be incredibly risky,” Leia warned. “After this meeting, Panaka is sure to be on the lookout for any New Republic ships intruding on the sector.”
Shara smiled. “So we find someone who isn’t New Republic to give us a ride there.”
“I take it you know someone who can do so?”
Shara winked as she brought out her comlink. “Let’s just say I know someone who owes me a favor….”
The Torment
Moff Quarsh Panaka straightened the cuffs of his uniform as he stepped onto the bridge of the Star Destroyer Torment, already en route back to Naboo after departing from the Kalarba system. His meeting with Princess Organa was still fresh in his mind as he mulled over her words. He still stood by what he had said to her, yet he also could not help but admire her steadfastness in her ideals, however naïve they were.
In ways that were more than he was comfortable with, she reminded him of Queen Amidala. The idealism, the naivete… if Organa had been born on Naboo rather than Alderaan, she would have been a shoo-in for the throne. She represented everything the people of Naboo stood for… even if it would have caused more than a few headaches for the Empire.
In fact, Organa reminded him so much of Amidala that he could not help but wonder if there was a deeper connection between the two. He had suspected as much back when he had first met her eight years ago, when she was a junior senator in the Apprentice Legislature. Before he could have investigated it further, he had been injured in an attempt on his life made by Saw Gerrera and his terrorists, and by the time he had recovered from the attempt he had a growing rebellion to help deal with.
He had never presented his suspicions to Emperor Palpatine, although he had been the one who had informed him of Amidala’s secret marriage to the Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. It would not have surprised him if Organa had perhaps been the product of their union, and that Bail Organa—a trusted friend of Amidala’s—had decided to raise her as his own daughter after her death at the end of the Clone Wars. While it was public knowledge that Leia Organa had been adopted, it was generally assumed that she had merely been a war orphan whose parents has perished during the war… and perhaps that was still true, from a certain point of view.
Panaka supposed it wasn’t really that important at the end of the day; with the Emperor gone, he knew no one else who would find use of such a revelation if his suspicions were correct, and with the Royal Family of Alderaan having been obliterated save for the sole exception of their last living heir, the truth was probably lost forever unless Leia herself knew who her biological parents were, and Panaka had no reason to suspect she did.
Perhaps one day he would solve the mystery if only to satisfy his own curiosity. Until then, he had work to do.
Lost as he was in his thoughts, it wasn’t until Panaka reached the front of the command bridge that he noticed the red-garbed figure standing with Captain Lerr Duvat at the viewport. Upon noticing the Moff’s arrival, Captain Duvat stepped to the side as the figure turned… revealing the face of Emperor Palpatine.
“Moff Quarsh Panaka,” the voice of the Emperor spoke through the strange droid’s voicebox. “You have been one of my most faithful servants. Even before my ascendance have I been able to trust in your loyalty. Now, after three decades, I have one last request that I must ask of you.”
Panaka’s eyes flickered from the droid to Duvat, not sure if what he was seeing or hearing was even real. “What is this?” he hissed to his captain.
Duvat merely shrugged while the Emperor’s message continued. “If you are viewing this message, it means that I have perished. The Empire cannot sustain itself without my oversight. Thus, it must all be burned down.”
Panaka looked back to the Emperor’s visage in surprise. This had to be some sort of hoax. A trick pulled by the New Republic. There was no way the man he knew would ask him to do what he thought he was being asked to do… was there?
“Naboo,” the Emperor said wistfully. “My beautiful home, as it is yours. As much as I cherish it, however, even beautiful things cannot last forever. As I have died, so too must the Empire… and Naboo.”
“No.” Panaka uttered the word in a barely audible whisper. He dropped his hand to his holstered blaster, ready to blast the droid for its blatantly false message. He did not know how Duvat fell for it, but he was positive that this was some sort of trick, designed to distract the Empire and turn them against one and another.
Before he could draw his weapon however, Palpatine spoke again. “I realize you may find this all too hard to believe, old friend, but I assure you that I am as real as the man you have known for so long.”
This gave Panaka pause and he gazed into the virtual blue eyes, their kindness and warmth all too familiar to him.
“It was you who told me about Senator Amidala’s secret. And for that, I am forever grateful. I don’t think you realize how much you have served the Empire.”
Panaka let out a small gasp as he let his arm drop loosely to the side. Palpatine had been the only person he had shared the knowledge of Amidala’s secret marriage with. There was no one else who could have known he had been the one to inform him.
The message was real. The orders were real.
And if he was to prove his loyalty to the man he had admired and respected for so long, he had to carry them out.
The image of Palpatine smiled, no doubt seeing the acceptance on his face, and it winked out of existence. The droid then grabbed his hand and cut his palm, taking in and processing his blood sample.
“Proceed to Chommell Minor,” the droid then intoned. “You will receive further instructions there.”
Panaka did not respond. He wasn’t even looking at the droid anymore; instead, he simply gazed out the viewport of the Torment, his expression vacant as a million things ran through his mind….
Korriban
For most of his life, Argen had taken Korriban to be little more than a myth. He did not doubt the planet’s existence, as it had been cataloged in most of the atlases he had perused during his education (although most modern editions listed it under the name Moraband), but he found the stories surrounding the planet to be the subject of myth and fiction. As a small child he had been told stories of Jedi and Sith battling it out among the stars, but when he grew up he deemed such tales to just be that: tall tales designed to amuse children.
Laying his eyes on the planet of Korriban for the first time as the Recrimination came out of hyperspace, he still was not convinced that the world had any sort of significance. From where he stood on the bridge, it seemed to be nothing more than a desert world with no signs of civilization. He knew of at least one settlement on the planet, that being the spaceport city of Dreshdae, but its population size was so small that it barely registered in his mind. Most if not all of them were either smugglers that had either come to the planet to hide from the Hutts or spacers that could not afford a replacement ship.
The only other location that might have been of some interest was a region known historically as the Valley of the Dark Lords, and it was to that location that the Messenger droid directed him and Grand Moff Nihan. Leaving Captain Kirus in command of the Recrimination, Argen and Nihan boarded the shuttle that the Messenger had come in and headed down to the desert planet. After landing in the city of Dreshdae, they had then taken a small transport that delivered them to the Valley of the Dark Lords, where a number of tombs said to be the burial places of ancient Sith Lords populated the area.
At first, Argen wasn’t sure why the Messenger had led them here, until he saw seven figures standing in the center of the valley. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned forward in his seat as the transport got closer to the figures, until he was able to recognize at least one of them.
Throughout his career, Argen had worked with a number of the Imperial Inquisitorius, with the Miraluka known as Jerec having been one of them. A tall man who looked human save for the solid black band covering the area where his eyes should have been, Jerec was known to be a powerful and cunning individual, and his ambition made him a popular figure among Imperial warlords. Argen was unsure whether the former Inquisitor had declared himself as a warlord himself, as he had heard reports that Jerec had pledged loyalty to Grand Moff Kaine’s Pentastar Alignment. If that was the case, then Argen was not sure what the Miraluka was doing here nor why the Messenger had led Nihan to him.
Argen kept his thoughts to himself as the transport came to a stop before Jerec and his party, allowing its three occupants to disembark. Amongst the rest of the Inquisitor’s numbers were two young humans, a crazed-looking Twi’lek, a burly Boltrunian, and two hideous mutant creatures of a race that Argen did not recognize; one was a diminutive, goblin-like being while the other was a massive orcish brute. Argen did not know who any of them were nor did he deign to question their presence; he would leave most of the talking to Nihan.
As the two men approached him, Jerec turned to face them, likely using the Force in lieu of physical vision. He smiled tightly, making the markings at the corners of his mouth look like fangs.
“Grand Moff Nihan,” the Inquisitor said in greeting. “I see that you have received the Emperor’s message as well.”
“Indeed, Inquisitor Jerec,” Nihan replied. “I don’t suppose your messenger elaborated on the reasoning for you being here?”
Jerec did not answer him, and instead the Messenger moved in to stand between the two men. Its face lit up again to display the visage of Emperor Palpatine.
“Inquisitor Jerec. Grand Moff Nihan.” The droid motioned its hands to each of them as the Emperor spoke their names. “I have summoned you here for a grand purpose. Here on Korriban, the ancestral home of the Sith, lies the tomb of Marka Ragnos, an ancient Dark Lord who ruled over the Sith many millennia ago. In this tomb, you will find an artifact known as the Specter of Ragnos. Deliver it to my Messenger and it will provide you with further instructions. I trust that you will not fail me.”
With that, the Messenger’s screen went blank and the droid became motionless, standing as still as the statues that oversaw the valley.
Jerec sniffed as he turned his attention back to Nihan. “Summon a deployment of stormtroopers and have them encircle the tomb. Make sure they guard the entrance while my Dark Jedi and I venture into the tomb to retrieve the Scepter.”
Nihan arched an eyebrow at him. “Who says only you have to go into the tomb? The Emperor addressed us both.”
“We all have a role to play,” Jerec said sharply. “I will retrieve the artifact and you guard the tomb. This is a joint effort.”
“And what makes you think you can order me around? I hold the rank of Grand Moff, which is far higher than a mere Inquisitor!”
Argen sucked in his breath and braced himself. Jerec grinned wickedly as he stepped forward and stood directly in front of Nihan. Although the Grand Moff was a few inches taller than the Inquisitor, Jerec seemed to match him equally in height. Argen wasn’t sure if it had something to do with his boots or if it was a trick of the Force.
“I am the Great InQuestor of Judgment for the Pentastar Alignment,” Jerec said, a low growl to his voice. “We both have lofty titles, Nihan, yet they mean nothing in the eyes of His Imperial Majesty, who stands supreme over us all. Does he not?”
Nihan scowled. “Of course he does. But—”
“But nothing,” Jerec snapped. “We accomplish nothing and waste only time by bickering. Summon your soldiers and guard the entrance while we seek our the artifact. I am sure we will both be greatly rewarded for our efforts.”
Nihan continued to glare at Jerec, and Argen wondered if he was going to push the issue further at the risk of his own life. He knew of many officers that had lost their lives questioning Darth Vader, and he would not be surprised if Jerec was just as merciless, especially now that Vader himself was no more, leaving a vacancy for such a powerful being.
To the admiral’s relief, Nihan bowed his head and took a step back, admitting defeat. “Very well,” the Grand Moff said gruffly. “I will summon my troopers at once.”
Jerec flashed a predatory smile. “Excellent. I knew we could come to an agreement.”
With that, the Inquisitor turned and marched off to rejoin his fellow Dark Jedi, his cape billowing behind him. Once he was out of earshot, Argen glanced at Nihan as the two of them turned their backs to the other party.
“What do you make of this situation?” Argen asked, keeping his tone low.
“It is certainly odd,” Nihan admitted. “But if the Emperor wishes it to be done, then so it shall be.”
“Of course,” Argen agreed. He glanced back warily to where the seven Dark Jedi stood. “I just hope there will still be a place for the likes of us when all is said and done. Without a living Emperor, it is hard to keep all of these different players in line. Even with the Emperor communicating to us from beyond the grave… what exactly is stopping someone like Jerec from deciding we do not hold a place in His Majesty’s vision?”
To that, Nihan had no answer and the two men did not exchange any more words for a very long time.
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