Star Wars: Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader

by James Luceno

  Vader listened to the sounds of the crowd for a moment more, then turned to regard Organa.

  “Why do you permit this?” he asked.

  Organa’s restless eyes searched for something, perhaps a peek at the man behind the mask. “Are such demonstrations no longer permitted on Coruscant?”

  “Harmony is the ideal of the New Order, Senator, not dissension.”

  “When harmony becomes the standard for all, then protests will cease. What’s more, by allowing voices to be heard here, Alderaan saves Coruscant any unmerited embarrassment.”

  “There may be some truth to that. But in due time, protests will cease, one way or another.”

  Vader recognized that Organa was in a quandary about something. Clearly he resented being challenged on his own world, but his tone of voice was almost conversational.

  “I trust that the Emperor knows better than to end them by fear,” he was saying.

  Vader had no patience for verbal fencing, and having to match wits with judicious men like Organa only reinforced his growing distaste at being the Emperor’s errand boy. When would his actual Sith training finally commence? Try as he might to convince himself, his was not real power, but merely the execution of power. He wasn’t the swordmaster so much as the weapon; and weapons were easily replaceable.

  “The Emperor would not be pleased by your lack of faith, Senator,” he said carefully. “Or by your willingness to allow others to display their distrust. But I haven’t come to discuss your little march.”

  Organa fingered his short beard. “What does bring you here?”

  “Former Senator Fang Zar.”

  Organa seemed genuinely surprised. “What of him?”

  “Then you don’t deny that he’s here?”

  “Of course not. He has been a guest of the palace for several weeks.”

  “Are you aware that he fled Coruscant?”

  Organa frowned in uncertainty. “It sounds as if you’re suggesting that he wasn’t permitted to leave of his own free will. Was he under arrest?”

  “Not arrest, Senator. Internal Security had questions for him, some of which were left unanswered. ISB requested that he remain in Imperial Center until matters were resolved.”

  Organa shook his head once. “I knew nothing of this.”

  “No one is questioning your decision to house him, Senator,” Vader said, gazing down at him. “I simply want your assurance that you won’t interfere with my escorting him back to Coruscant.”

  “Back to—” Organa left the rest of it unfinished and began again. “I won’t interfere. Except in one instance.”

  Vader waited.

  “If Senator Zar requests diplomatic immunity, Alderaan will grant it.”

  Vader folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not certain that privilege still exists. Even if it does, you may find that refusing the Emperor’s request is hardly in your best interest.”

  Again, Organa’s confliction was obvious. What is he hiding?

  “Is that a threat, Lord Vader?” he said finally.

  “Only a fact. For too long the Senate encouraged political chaos. Those days are ended, and the Emperor will not permit them to resurface.”

  Organa showed him a skeptical look. “You speak of him as if he is all-powerful, Lord Vader.”

  “He is more powerful than you know.”

  “Is that why you’ve agreed to serve him?”

  Vader took a moment to respond. “My decisions are my own. The old system is dead, Senator. You would be wise to subscribe to the new one.”

  Organa exhaled with purpose. “I’ll take my chances that freedom is still alive.” He fell silent for a moment, deliberating. “I don’t mean to impugn your authority, Lord Vader, but I wish to consult with the Emperor personally on this matter.”

  Vader could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Was Organa deliberately attempting to obstruct him; to make him appear inept in the eyes of Sidious? Anger welled up in him. Why was he wasting his time chasing fugitive Senators when it was the Jedi who posed a risk to the New Order?

  To the balance of the Force.

  A nearby holoprojector chimed, and from it emerged the holoimage of a dark-haired woman with an infant in her arms.

  “Bail, I’m sorry I’ve been delayed,” the woman said. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be there shortly.”

  Organa looked from Vader to the holoimage and back again. As the image faded he said: “Perhaps it’s better if you spoke with Senator Zar in person.” He gulped and found his voice. “I’ll have him escorted to the conference room as soon as possible.”

  Vader turned and waved a signal to Commander Appo, who nodded. “Who is the woman?” Vader asked Organa.

  “My wife,” Organa said nervously. “The Queen.”

  Vader regarded Organa, trying to read him more clearly.

  “Inform Senator Zar that I’m waiting,” he said at last. “In the meantime, I would enjoy meeting the Queen.”

  More than seven centuries old, the palace was a rambling and multistoried affair of ramparts and turrets, bedrooms and ballrooms, with as many grand stairways as it had turbolifts. Without a map, its kilometers of winding corridors were nearly impossible to follow. And so where walking from the droid-maintenance room to the hallway that accessed the south gate had seemed a simple matter, it was in fact akin to negotiating a maze.

  “The droid’s more clever than it looks,” Archyr said when it finally dawned on them that the two machine intelligences had been walking them in circles for the past quarter hour. “I think it’s leading us on a wild gundark chase.”

  “Oh, he would never do that,” C-3PO said. “Would you, Artoo?” When the astromech didn’t answer, C-3PO slammed his hand down on R2-D2’s dome. “Don’t you even think about giving me the silent treatment!”

  Skeck tugged the ion weapon from his belt and brandished it. “Maybe it forgot about this.”

  “No need to threaten us further,” C-3PO said. “I’m certain that Artoo isn’t attempting to mislead you. We don’t know the palace very well. You see, we’ve only been with our present master for two local months, and we’re not very well acquainted with the layout.”

  “Where were you before two months ago?” Skeck asked.

  C-3PO fell silent for a long moment. “Artoo, just where were we before that?”

  The astromech honked and razzed.

  “None of my business? Oh, here we go again. This little droid can be very stubborn sometimes. In any case, as to where we were … I think I recall acting as an interface with a group of binary loadlifters.”

  “Loadlifters?” Archyr said. “But you’re programmed for protocol, aren’t you?”

  C-3PO looked as distressed as a droid could look. “That’s true! However, I can’t imagine that I’m mistaken! I know I have been programmed for—”

  “Get ahold of yourself, droid,” Skeck said.

  Shryne brought the five of them to an abrupt halt. “This isn’t the way to the south entrance. Where are we?”

  C-3PO gazed around. “I believe that we have somehow ended up in the royal residence wing.”

  Archyr’s pointed jaw dropped. “What the frizz are we doing here? We’re a hundred and eighty degrees from where we want to be!”

  Skeck aimed the ionizer at the astromech’s photoreceptor. “You can navigate a starfighter through hyperspace and you can’t get us to the south gate? Any more tricks and we’re going to fry you.”

  Shryne stepped away from everyone and activated his comlink. “Jula, any word from—”

  “Where in the galaxy have you three been? I’ve been trying to reach you for—”

  “We got turned around,” Shryne said. “We’ll fix it. Any word from our bundle?”

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you. He moved.”

  “Where to?”

  “The east gate.”

  Shryne blew out his breath. “All right, we’ll get there. Just make sure you tell him to remain where he is.
” Silencing the comlink, he rejoined the others.

  “East gate?” Skeck said when Shryne relayed the bad news. He turned himself through a circle and pointed. “That way, I think.”

  The astromech began to chitter. Shryne and the others looked to C-3PO for a translation.

  “He says, sirs, that the quickest route to the east gate will involve our ascending one more level—”

  “We’re supposed to be going down!” Archyr said in exasperation.

  “That’s true,” C-3PO continued. “But my counterpart advises that unless we go up first, we will be forced to detour around the upper reaches of the Grand Ballroom atrium.”

  “Enough,” Shryne said, ending further argument. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  With the astromech leading, rolling along on its three treads, the five of them filed into a turbolift and rode it up one floor. No sooner had they arrived than R2-D2 made a sudden left into the stately corridor and hurried off.

  “What, all of a sudden it’s in a rush?” Archyr said.

  “Artoo, slow down!” C-3PO called, struggling to keep up.

  The astromech disappeared around a bend in the corridor. Skeck muttered a curse and drew the ionizer again.

  “I think it’s trying to get away!”

  The three of them began to race after their quarry, dashing around the same corner only to narrowly avoid colliding with a regally dressed woman cradling a sleeping baby in her arms.

  Stopping suddenly, the astromech loosed an ear-piercing screech and extended half a dozen of its interface arms, waving them about like weapons.

  Confronted with the sight, the woman pulled the baby closer to her with one hand while the other reached out to slap a security alarm stud set into the wall. Rudely awakened by the astromech’s screech and the blare of alarms, the baby took a quick look at the droid and began wailing at the top of its lungs.

  Exchanging the briefest of panicked looks, Shryne, Archyr, and Skeck about-faced and ran.

  Bail’s assured posture in one of the reception room’s elegant chairs belied his sense of raw desperation.

  A few meters away, standing at one of the tall windows, Darth Vader gazed out on crowds of demonstrators who were becoming more turbulent with every passing moment.

  The cadence of his deep breathing filled the room.

  This is Leia’s father, Bail told himself, certain of it now.

  Anakin Skywalker. Rescued somehow on Mustafar, and returned to life, though now confined to a suit that made manifest what Skywalker had become at the end of the war: betrayer, butcher of children, apprentice of Sidious, follower of the dark side of the Force. And soon Leia would be in his presence …

  When Breha had comlinked him unexpectedly, Bail had come close to telling her to flee, fully prepared to suffer whatever consequences would descend on him. To ensure Leia’s safety, he had even been ready to sacrifice Fang Zar.

  Would Vader recognize Leia through the Force as his child? What would happen if he did? Would he compel Bail to reveal where Obi-Wan was; where Luke was?

  No, Bail would die first.

  “What’s taking Senator Zar so long?” Vader asked.

  Bail had his mouth open to reply that the palace’s guest wing was some distance away when Sheltray Retrac entered the reception room, her expression alone making it clear that something was wrong. Approaching Bail, she leaned low to say in a quiet voice, “Fang Zar is not in the residence. We don’t know where he is.”

  Before Bail could reply Vader swung to the two of them.

  “Was Zar alerted of my coming?”

  Bail came to his feet quickly. “No one was apprised beforehand of the reason for your visit.”

  Vader glanced at Commander Appo. “Find him, Commander, and bring him to me.”

  The words had scarcely left the black grille that concealed Vader’s mouth than security alarms began to sound throughout the palace. Captain Antilles immediately moved into the transmission field of the reception room’s holoprojector, where a half-life-size image of a security officer was already resolving.

  “Sir, three unidentified beings have gained access to the palace. Their motive is unknown, but they are armed and were last seen in the residential wing, in the company of two droids.”

  Two droids! Bail thought, rushing across the room in an effort to beat Vader to the holoprojector.

  “Do we have images of the intruders?” Retrac asked before Bail could silence her.

  Bail’s heart skipped a beat. If it was C-3PO and R2-D2—

  “Only of the intruders,” the security officer said.

  “Show them,” Antilles ordered.

  The security cam image showed three males, one human and two humanoids, dashing down one of the corridors.

  “Freeze the image!” Vader said from alongside the holoprojector. “Close in on the human.”

  Bail was as confused as everyone else. Did Vader know the intruders? Were they agitators dispatched by Coruscant to work the protestors into a frenzy?

  “Jedi,” Vader said, mostly to himself.

  Bail wasn’t sure he had heard Vader correctly.

  “Jedi? That can’t be possible—”

  Vader whirled on him. “They’ve come for Fang Zar.” He stared at Bail from inside the mask. “Zar is attempting to return to Sern Prime. Apparently he hoped to keep from implicating you in his flight.”

  The reception room fell silent, but only for a moment. From the holoprojector appeared an image of Breha, holding a distraught Leia in her arms.

  “Bail, I won’t be joining you, after all,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the infant’s crying. “We had a disturbing encounter with three trespassers and a couple of droids, who nearly frightened the baby to death. She’s in no condition to be introduced to company. I’m trying to calm her—”

  “That’s probably best,” Bail said in a rush. “I’ll check back with you in a moment.” Deactivating the holoprojector, he turned slowly to Vader, arranging his features to suggest a mix of mild disappointment at his wife’s message, and deep concern for just about everything else that had occurred.

  “I’m certain there’ll be another time, Lord Vader.”

  “I look forward to it,” Vader said.

  With that, he turned and marched away.

  Bail nearly collapsed. Exhaling in guarded relief, he dropped back into his chair.

  “Jedi?” Antilles said, in obvious bewilderment.

  Bail shook his head from side to side. “I don’t understand, either. But that is Skywalker.” Abruptly, he stood up. “We have to find Zar before he does.”

  If I ever run into that astromech again …,” Skeck said as he, Archyr, and Shryne were racing for the palace’s east entrance.

  Archyr nodded in agreement. “Never a good feeling when you’re tricked by an appliance.”

  His comlink enabled, Shryne was speaking with Jula.

  “We’re almost there. But that’s no guarantee we can make it outside without being arrested.”

  “Roan, I’m going to reposition the ship. Close to our rendezvous there’s a landing platform reserved for HoloNet correspondents.”

  “What makes you think you’ll be allowed to set down?”

  “No one’s going be happy about it. But the good thing about Alderaan is that no one’s going to blast us out of the sky, either.”

  “Parking ticket, huh?”

  “Maybe not even.”

  “Then we’ll see you there,” Shryne said. “Out.”

  With the ornate east entrance in sight, the three of them slowed down to survey the situation. A pair of enormous doors opened on a broad staircase; from the last step, a paved footpath led to an arched bridge that spanned a crescent of reflecting pool. On the far side of the pool, the path led directly to a gated access in the high rampart. Perhaps a hundred meters beyond the wall was the media landing platform Jula had mentioned.

  Shryne scanned the beings assembled on the narrow bridge and the green lawn
between it and the rampart. Ultimately his gaze found a short, dark-complectioned man with a shock of long, white beard.

  “That’s Zar,” he said, pointing out the Senator to Skeck and Archyr.

  “And here comes trouble,” Skeck said, indicating four Royal Guards who were hurrying for the gate, rifles slung over their shoulders.

  “We need to make our move,” Archyr said. “Before any more of them show up.”

  Skeck parted his long coat, reached around to the small of his back, and drew a blaster. “So much for pulling this off without a hitch.”

  Shryne placed his right hand on the weapon while Skeck was checking the power level. “You might not have to use it. Those long rifles are no match for even a hand blaster, and the guards know it. Besides, they probably haven’t fired a round since the last royal funeral.”

  “Yeah, but can I quote you on that?” Skeck said.

  Shryne took a step toward the doors, froze, then retreated, pressing himself to the wall.

  Archyr regarded him in bafflement. “What—”

  “Vader,” Shryne managed.

  Archyr’s eyes widened. “The black stormtrooper? Let me see—”

  Shryne restrained him from moving. “He’s no stormtrooper.”

  Skeck was staring at Shryne, openmouthed. “Why’s he here? For you?”

  Shryne shook his head to clear it. “I don’t know. He answers directly to the Emperor.” He looked at Skeck. “He could be here for Zar.”

  “Doesn’t really matter, does it,” Archyr said. “Point being, he’s here.”

  Shryne reached under his coat for his blaster. “If he is here for Zar, he’s going to forget all about him when he sees me.”

  Skeck planted his hands on Shryne’s shoulders. “You want to think this through?”

  Shryne vouchsafed a thin smile. “I just did.”

  Vader hunted the hallways of the palace, the suit’s array of sensors enhancing every sound and smell, every stray movement, his heavy cloak hooked around the hilt of his lightsaber.