Lady Obscura: Vader's Shadow [Star Wars | Luke Skywalker]

Chapter 26

Looking out of the Imperial shuttle at the Death Star II was absolutely nothing like looking out at Naboo. Where Naboo had filled Athara with a sense of anticipation and wonder at the beauty of the small planet, the Death Star only inspired a sense of anxiety and revulsion. Its skeletal form loomed ahead of them, menacing in its sheer staggering size and for the unmistakable presence Athara could feel waiting aboard.

The Emperor was most certainly waiting for her. She could feel his presence as they drew closer, the Darkness roiling within him enough to turn her stomach. She understood now that, even when she had been a servant of the Dark Side, she had never truly embraced it, not in the way her Master and his Master had. It was starkly evident to her in a way it hadn't been before as she was brought ever closer to the Emperor. Every cell in her body felt like it was recoiling away from him, from the unfathomable evil that waited for her. It was like a noxious cloud that engulfed the unfinished Battlestation. She could feel it fogging her senses as the shuttle drew into the landing bay. It clouded her thoughts and left her feeling muddled.

As she was led off the shuttle she was barely paying attention to where they were taking her, she was fighting so hard to shake off the effects of the Emperor's presence. Normally she would have drawn on things like memory of Luke's smile when he saw her, or perhaps his kisses or the way he'd told her he loved her. Or perhaps the memory of her time with the Jengals, or her friends' faces, childhood memories of her Master's true nature, Qui-gon's praise and pride when she began to pull herself from the quicksand that was the Dark Side, or the knowledge that despite everything, her Master cared enough to risk everything to protect her.

Yet even in her muddled and confused state, she was aware enough to recognize the creeping tendrils of the Emperor's thoughts trying to sift through her own. Long before they had reached the location of the second Death Star, she had tamped down and hidden anything and everything she could anticipate or imagine that the Emperor might possibly try to use against her, Vader or Luke. As jumbled and disarrayed as her thoughts were, she knew better than to retrieve the memories and thoughts that usually served as her anchor from where she had locked them away. Somehow the knowledge that she could keep what he sought to use against her from him provided just the strength and clarity she needed. A faint grin came involuntarily to her face when she felt the intruding consciousness reacting with frustration as, despite the way he was meddling with her thoughts, she retained control over her own mind, and kept her thoughts shielded from him.

"Impressive." A voice, smooth and sibilant, yet virulent and threatening in its soft reserve, glided through the fog of the Dark Side, startling Athara out of the bounds of her mind. Her mind was her own again as the veil the Dark Side had cast over her senses fell away.

She was standing alone in the centre of the Emperor's throne room aboard the Death Star, looking up at the dais where Palpatine himself sat. In all the years she had known him, the Emperor had not really changed. His skin was still deeply creased and scarred, paper thin and nearly translucent, while burning yellow eyes gazed out from the deep folds of pale skin amid a deeply hooded black cloak. For all his power and pride, he did not display any of it on his person, sitting quietly without ornament on either his garments or about his throne. It was the same in the Imperial Palace, to an extent. The Palace Complex itself was huge and richly ornamented, but similar to the scene before her, the Emperor's throne room was nearly bare in its stark decoration. It left the Emperor himself as the sole focus, and somehow it seemed to magnify his power and mystery. Likewise, his throne room here was even a step beyond bare, with the dim lighting and exposed superstructure of the tower itself creating the illusion that Athara stood amid the looming skeleton of some great beast.

She stood between two giant viewports at the bottom of the stairway that led up to Palpatine's throne. Behind her, over a short gantry that appeared to look straight down to the core of the Battlestation from what was sure to be an almost unfathomable height, was the turbolift that had brought Athara into Palpatine's presence. Her wrists were beginning to ache a little from the binders the Stormtroopers on Naboo had placed about them, but Athara pointedly ignored it. He wanted her uncomfortable. It was part of his strategy, his game. She had no intention of playing by his rules. Out the viewport behind Palpatine, Athara could see the surface of the moon over which the Death Star resided during its construction. She didn't even know what system they were in.