Jedi Under Siege

by Kevin J. Anderson

  enormous space battle.

  New Republic warships had appeared unexpectedly, firing and firing upon

  the Shadow Academy. But then came the newly arrived fleet of Second

  Imperium ships, cobbled-together Star Destroyers, Imperial battle

  cruisers assembled from leftover pieces in reclaimed shipyards. The new

  fleet used the computer systems, hyperdrives, and turbolaser batteries

  that Qorl himself had helped to acquire.

  But seeing the Second Imperium's ships filled him with a sense of

  dismay. The new fleet lacked the grandeur and impressive presence of the

  original Imperial armada.

  Qorl had flown on the Death Star, served as part of Grand Moff Tarkin's

  Imperial Starfleet.

  This new fighting force looked somewhat . . . desperate-as if people

  whose dreams stretched far beyond their resources had leaped into the

  fray.

  Qorl saw the Second Imperium ships pounding the Rebel rescue fleet-but

  as he watched, the tide turned and clusters of nondescript ships

  attacked the Star Destroyers.

  Then the Star Destroyers'defensive shields

  ^ suddenly and inexplicably went down, as if their own computers had

  switched them off.

  As if they had agreed to surrender!

  Rebel battle cruisers fired into the opening at full strength, ripping

  great gashes in the hulls of the new Star Destroyers. M%at was going on?

  Why didn't his comrades reestablish their shields?

  As Qorl flew toward them, frantic to do something to help with the

  fight, fresh TIE fighters streamed out of the Star Destroyers and began

  to pound the Rebel ships, though they seemed no more than tiny gnats

  against Ackbar's great fleet.

  Qorl suddenly saw his chance to redeem himself. He had already been a

  traitor to his rescuers and friends and to the Second Impezium. No

  matter which choice he made, he would be cursed-he would never be able

  to live with either betrayal.

  At the moment, though, Qorl could join the fight on the side of the

  Second Imperium and cause whatever damage he could . . .

  perhaps even die fighting. He was a TIE pilot. He had trained for this.

  Long ago, he had flown from the Death Star on a similar mission-and now

  he would make everything right again.

  Qorl powered up his laser cannons, weapons that had last been fired

  against Norys's ship to stop the bully's murderous frenzy.

  Qorl could now use the weapons against his assigned targets: the Rebel

  Alliance.

  His TIE fighter stormed into the fray from out of nowhere, firing on one

  of the Corellian gunships, leaving black scorch marks as he strafed

  along its side. Other TIE fighters joined him, flying in a barely

  recognizable attack pattern. These fleet members were obviously

  untrained, having spent very little time even in simulators. But the

  chaos served the new pilots well as the ships flew around each other,

  blasting and pummeling with no set goal but to cause damage.

  The Rebel fleet responded with heavy turbolaser fire, lancing out in all

  directions.

  With a blinding glare, one of the Star Destroyers blew up, its command

  turret in flames.

  Another Star Destroyer went reeling, its defenses down; it turned in an

  attempt to limp away. The Rebel fleet pursued, all weapons blazing.

  The Second Imperium was losing. Losing!

  Qorl shot after the fleeing ships. Some of the TIE fighters sped off

  into space . . .

  though Qorl had no idea where they intended to go. Their flagships were

  destroyed and the

  ^ Shadow Academy was under fire. Did they intend to give up?

  "Surrender is betrayal," he muttered to himself-and flew directly into

  the Rebel fla ship's line of fire.

  I 9 Turbolaser bolts shot past, but Qorl dove forward, firing his

  insignificant laser cannons and diving down the gullet of the beast. He

  would never give up. This would be his final flash of glory.

  The Rebels improved their aim-and the cross fire struck him. Qorl closed

  his eyes behind his TIE helmet, expecting to vanish in a bright puff of

  flame, a candle burning for his Emperor.

  But the energy weapons had only managed to clip one of his engines and

  damage part of his power array.

  Qorl's TIE fighter spun out of control, away from the battle fleet. Even

  in his crash restraints, he was thrown from side to side inside his tiny

  cockpit. Qorl held on, expecting his ship to explode at any moment . . .

  all the while careening farther and farther away from the continuing

  space battle.

  Still spinning, he saw that gravity had caught him. He was crashing

  again, plummeting toward the jungle moon ofyavin. . . .

  ^ 9 ----------------- BRAKISS RACED HIS high-speed, one person shuttle

  away from Yavin 4 and streaked back toward his precious Shadow Academy.

  He punched the coded controls that would automatically open the

  launch-bay doors and provide him clear passage back into the safety of

  the Imperial training station.

  The space battle did not concern him. It was just one other event that

  had gone wrong today.

  His heart still pounded from his lightsaber battle with Skywalker down

  at the temple ruins. His thoughts spun, filled with the resonating words

  of his former Master.

  Anger and despair swirled like an uncontrollable storm through his mind,

  through his emotions.

  Every method he knew failed to bring his thoughts back to the cold,

  quiet levels he required to draw on his fullest powers.

  ^

  ^ Brakiss even attempted to use some of the hated calming techniques

  Skywalker had shown him back in his incognito student days-but nothing

  worked.

  Everything was crumbling. His grandiose plans, his carefully trained

  Dark Jedi, the troops of the Second Imperium-it all faltered here on the

  verge of what should have been his greatest triumph, the hammer blow

  that would shake the galaxy. The destruction of the Jedi academy should

  have been a simple victory.

  The Emperor would destroy Brakiss for this failure, but for now he could

  think only that the Emperor himself remained their last hope. Their only

  hope. Brakiss would accept his punishment later; for now he needed to do

  everything in his power to bring about a victory.

  He brought his shuttle to dock in the nearly empty bay of the Shadow

  Academy, where not long ago rows of TIE fighters and TIE bombers had

  prepared for battle.

  Tamith Kai had launched her armored battle platform, riding down from

  orbit with her stormtroopers and Zekles squad of dark warriors. They had

  been proud, confident, sure of crushing the hght-side Jedi. . . .

  Brakiss climbed stiffly out of his shuttle, ^ straightening his silvery

  robes, trying unsuccessfully to regain his dignity. Not wanting to be

  without a Jedi blade, he armed himself from a weapons alcove in the wall

  with another of the mass-produced lightsahers.

  But how could he defend himself? He had seen Tamith Kai's battle

  platform plunge into the river, a flaming hulk of molten slag.

  Zekles Dark Jedi had been routed, the TIE fighter squadrons mostly


  destroyed-and now Brakiss watched the Second Imperium's powerful new

  fleet being trounced by Rebel battleships that had appeared out of

  nowhere and had somehow deactivated the Imperial shields!

  Brakiss strode out of the docking bay into the near-deserted Shadow

  Academy. All capable troops had been sent to the surface.

  Only a few command teams remained here to keep the Imperial station

  secure.

  The sterile corridors should have been hosting a victory celebration,

  but instead the place seemed like a tomb, an abandoned derelict. The

  Emperor must find some way to save them, Brakiss told himself, to turn

  the tide of battle so that the Second Imperium could rule the galaxy

  after all.

  Palpatine had cheated death not once, but

  ^ twice. After he had perished the first time aboard the second Death

  Star during the battle of Endor, he had managed to resurrect himself,

  using hidden clones to prolong his life. And though all those clones had

  presumably been destroyed, thirteen years later the Emperor was once

  again back from the dead-without an explanation this time.

  Any man who accomplished such feats could surely manage to wrest victory

  away from a hodgepodge gang of Rebels and criminals, couldn't he?

  Holding his head up, trying to summon Imperial pride and hope, Brakiss

  marched down the steel-plated corridors toward the isolated section of

  the station. He had to see the Emperor, and he would not be turned away.

  The fate of the entire war hung on the next few moments!

  Outside the sealed doorways stood two of the four scarlet-clad Imperial

  guards. They wore sinister, projectile-shaped helmets with only a narrow

  black slit through which they could see. The two guards stiffened,

  crossing their force pikes to deny him entry. Brakiss strode forward

  without hesitating. "Move aside," he said. "I must speak with the

  Emperor."

  "He has requested not to be disturbed," said one of the guards.

  "Disturbed?" Brakiss said, appalled to hear the words. "Our fleet is

  going down in defeat; our Dark Jedi are being captured. Our TIE fighters

  are being shot down. Tamith Kai is dead. The Emperor should already be

  disturbed. Move aside. I must speak with him."

  "The Emperor speaks with no one." They moved one step forward, holding

  out their weapons.

  Brakiss felt fresh anger boiling within. It gave him strength. The power

  flowing in his veins tapped directly into the dark side of the Force. He

  could see why the Nightsister Tamith Kai had found the experience so

  exhilarating that she kept herself in a constant state of pent-up fury.

  Brakiss had no patience for these meddling scarlet-clad obstacles. They

  were traitors to the Second Imperium-and he responded, letting the Force

  flow from deep within him.

  His lightsaber dropped out of his billowing sleeve and fell firmly into

  his hand. His finger depressed the power button. A long rippling blade

  extended out, but Brakiss did not use it as a threat. He had grown tired

  of

  ^ threats, of word games and diversions that prevented progress. He

  unleashed his anger.

  "I have had enough of this!" He struck wildly from side to side. His

  anger narrowed his vision to a tunnel of black static that surrounded

  his two targets as they scrambled to use their force pikes against him.

  But Brakiss was a powerful Jedi. He knew the ways of the dark side, and

  the red Imperial guards had no chance against him.

  In less than a second, Brakiss had struck both of them down.

  He activated the sealed door mechanism.

  The security pass codes argued with him, so he used the Force to blow

  out the circuits. With his bare hands he wrenched the stubborn door

  aside, then strode into the Emperor's private chambers.

  "My Emperor, you must help us," he called.

  The light around him was red and dim, hot.

  He blinked, finding it difficult to see-but found no one else around.

  "Emperor Palpatine!" he shouted. "The battle turns against us. The

  Rebels are defeating our troops. You must do something His words echoed

  back at him, but he heard nothing else: no response, no movement. He

  pushed on into another room, only to find it filled with a black-walled

  isolation chamber, its armored door sealed shut, its side panels held in

  place with heavy burnished rivets. This was the enclosed compartment the

  red guards had removed from the special Imperial shuttle. Bulky worker

  droids had lifted the heavy container out of the shuttle's hold and

  carried it here.

  Brakiss knew the Emperor had secluded himself inside the chamber,

  protected from outside influences. Brakiss had feared that the Emperor's

  health was failing, that Palpatine needed this special life-support

  environment just to survive.

  But at the moment, Brakiss didn't care. He was tired of having doors

  shut in front of him.

  He, the Master of the Shadow Academy, one of the most important members

  of the Second Imperium, should not be brushed aside like some civil

  servant.

  He pounded on the armored door. "My Emperor, I demand that you see me!

  You cannot let this defeat continue. You must use your powers to wrest a

  victory from the hands of our enemies."

  He received no answer. His battering noises quickly faded into the

  thick, blood-colored light that filled the chamber. Brakiss's heart

  ^ froze into a chunk of ice, like a lost comet from the fhnges of a

  solar system.

  If the Emperor had forsaken them, they were lost already. The battle had

  turned against the Second Imperium-and Brakiss had nothing more to lose.

  He switched on his lightsaber again, held the thrumming weapon-and

  struck. The energy blade sparked and flared as it cut through the thick

  armor plating-nothing, not even Mandalorian iron or durasteel blast

  shielding, could resist the onslaught of a Jedi hghtsaber.

  He sliced through the hinges. Molten metal steamed and ran in silvery

  rivulets down the side of the door. He chopped again, hacking out an

  entrance, tearing open the wall like a labor droid dismantling a cargo

  container. He stepped aside as the thick chunk of armor plate fell to

  the deck with a deafening clang.

  Brakiss stood waiting, frozen with indecision, as the smoke cleared. He

  held his lightsaber up . . . and finally stepped inside.

  He stared in disbelief. He saw no Emperor, no plush living quarters, not

  even any complicated medical apparatus to keep the old ruler ahve.

  Instead, he found a sham.

  A third red guard sat in a complex control chair surrounded on three

  sides by computer monitors and controls. Brakiss saw a library display

  of holographic videoclips taken over the course of the Emperor's career:

  the rise of Senator Palpatine, the New Order, early attempts to crush

  the Rebellion . . . recorded speeches, memos, practically every word

  Palpatine had spoken in public, plus many private messages.

  Powerful holographic generators assembled the clips, manufacturing

  lifelike threedimensional images.

  Brakiss stared in horror as it began to make sense to him
.

  The red guard lurched to his feet, scarlet robes flowing around him.

  "You may not enter here."

  "Where is the Emperor?" Brakiss said, but as he looked around he already

  knew the answer. "There is no Emperor, is there?

  This has all been a hoax, a pitiful bid for power."

  "Yes," the red guard said, "and you have played your part well. The

  Emperor did indeed die many years ago when his last clone was destroyed,

  but the Second Imperium needed a leader-and we, four of Palpatine's

  ^ most loyal Imperial guards, decided to create that leader.

  "We had all of the brilliant speeches and recordings the Emperor had

  made. We had his thoughts, his policies, his records. We knew we could

  make the Second Imperium work, but no one would have followed us. We had

  to give the people what they wanted, and they wanted their Emperor

  back-as you did. You were easy to fool, because you wanted to be

  fooled," the red guard said, nodding toward Brakiss.

  The Master of the Shadow Academy stepped deeper into the chamber, his

  hghtsaher glowing with deadly, cold fire. -You tricked us," he said,

  still in the grip of incredulous horror. "You tricked me-me! I was one

  of the Emperor's most dedicated servants, but I served a he. There was