Emperor Palpatine's Bedroom

Imperial Palace

Imperial City

Imperial Center

"Moof juice unavailable, Master," the droid stated flatly.

Emperor Sheev Palpatine, Senior Sith Lord, Master of the Known Galaxy, ground his teeth together so hard that they hurt.

"I want moof juice," he stated coldly, his yellow eyes narrowed into angry slits. "Find it and bring it to me."

The food droid whirred for a few seconds and then rocked slightly on its feet, "I regret to inform you that moof juice is unavailable, Master."

"It must be available somewhere," Palpatine snarled. "This is Imperial Center, the power center of the Empire. Somewhere on this planet is moof juice. Get it for me."

The droid tipped its silver head upwards as if considering, shifted, then shook its head. "I am sorry, Master. There is no moof juice available. May I interest you in some mupple juice?"

With what Palpatine acknowledged was a pettish shriek, the senior Sith lifted a hand and hurled the offending droid hard into a nearby wall using the Force. The mechanical being's arms and legs fell off and its body crashed to the floor.

Darth Sidious stalked over to his com, sent out an enraged order, and then sat down and leaned against his giant black cyrene silk pillow. Six minutes and 18 seconds later, he sensed the arrival of his second-in-command. He gestured angrily at the door and a moment later Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, strode into the bedroom and lowered himself onto one knee.

"You summoned me, my master?" the vocoder inquired in what was clearly a worried tone. Palpatine pushed down a flash of irritation. It was natural enough that Vader was nervous as abrupt summons often resulted in harsh Force Lightning discipline, but in this case ...

"Rise, Lord Vader," he ordered, then continued impatiently. "I am sick with an intestinal virus and want moof juice. Get me some."

The giant cyborg rose to his full two meter height and stared in surprise at him, then glanced at the food droid lying on the floor muttering softly to itself.

"Moof juice, Master?" Vader asked carefully. "Is the droid, er, malfunctioning?"

"It is after I threw it against the wall," Sidious hissed. "It told me that no moof juice is available. Clearly that is absurd. I want you to find some moof juice and bring it to me."

The cyborg gazed at his master, then at the droid, then gestured slightly. The crumpled mechanical rose into the air and floated after Vader out the door.

Sidious leaned back in bed and groaned as he massaged his head. He had a horrible headache, his stomach was roiling miserably, and he'd had to make one too many trips to the refresher today. He was the most powerful sentient in the galaxy and he wanted moof juice. Was that too much to ask?

Exactly 63 minutes later, Darth Vader returned carrying a large flask of orange moof juice. Sidious felt his salivary glands tingling in delight at the very sight, and he gestured toward his side table. His apprentice obediently placed the flask and a clean empty cup on the appropriate horizontal surface and bowed slightly.

"Your moof juice, Master. I took the liberty of running a sample through a chemical analysis unit. It is neither poisoned nor spoiled."

"You have done well, Lord Vader. Depart now and leave me to my moof juice. Also, send me another food droid, a properly functioning one!"

"Yes, my master."

Sidious waited for the door to close behind the giant, reached over, and delicately poured some moof juice into a cup. He took a cautious sip, rolled his eyes in delight, and then drank down the entire cup. It was absolutely delicious. He had loved moof juice as a child but hadn't imbibed any in literally decades. Given how well it was going down right now, that was a regrettable decision on his part.

He was, he realized, quite dehydrated. He sucked down another two cups, then used the Force to return the flask into a refrigerator in the next room. A few minutes later, he lay back in his bed, pulled his favorite orange shaak wool blanket over his body, and drifted off to sleep.

/

Sidious woke up in a near panic. He had dreamed of being trapped, of being tethered to something. He thrashed his arms and even sent out a tendril of Force Lightning before realizing that he had merely gotten himself tangled in his blanket.

He shook himself loose and sat up, taking deep breaths. A moment later, he jerked in alarm at the sight of the slight figure looming a meter away from him.

"Malvos," he hissed angrily, using the Force to organize his blankets into tidy rectangles on his bed. "Do not creep in on me like that."

"My apologies, Sheev," the other man said drily. "You were deeply asleep."

"I am ill," Palpatine replied petulantly.

"And since you are ill," Malvos replied smoothly, "you must drink your medicine."

Palpatine groaned and leaned back against his bedstead, "Medicine always tastes awful."

"Nonetheless," the other man replied firmly. "You need to take it. You've not been this sick in many decades. It would not do for the Master of the Galaxy to linger ill too long with a virus."

The Emperor nodded wearily and reached for the small glass of medicine on his bedside table. Uneasily, he gulped down the clear blue liquid and then began gagging dramatically.

"That is disgusting!" he whined.

His companion reached over to pat the old Sith on the shoulder, "Now, now, you'll feel better soon."

"I just want to sleep," Palpatine muttered, leaning back again on his pillow.

"As you wish. I will send some more medicine and food in three hours."

Sidious waved an impatient hand and was relieved when the other departed. The former Nubian Senator focused his considerable Force power on his stomach and willed it to stay calm.

He failed. Thirty seconds later, he was in the refresher throwing up violently.

Yuck.

/-

Vader's Office

Imperial Palace

Three hours later

Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, frowned beneath his mask at the dismembered food droid on his desk. He had removed it from his master's suite and had fully intended to throw it in the trash, but he liked fixing droids and he was a bit stressed about his master being sick so he had decided to run some diagnostics.

And he had found something very odd.

There was a bizarre subroutine buried in the droid's primary intelligence module which prevented the food droid from bringing moof juice or any dish made from Jogan fruit or meilooroon to the Emperor.

It was most peculiar. Vader himself could hardly eat anything due to his intimate encounter with a lava flow 20 years previously, but Palpatine had a varied if thoroughly gourmet diet.

Who had programmed the droid to avoid these specific foods and why? Perhaps Palpatine himself had a problem with them that he had forgotten about in the midst of his illness? If so, the old man might well wake up feeling even worse than usual, and would probably take out his discomfort on his loyal apprentice.

Vader sighed. He did not like his Master at all. Indeed, at some level, he hated him. But the old man was all he really had in the galaxy after losing...

No, he would not think of her.

Or the child.

Vader had flirted with the idea of killing Palpatine and taking over the Empire, in reality he preferred the situation as it was. He needed someone to venerate, even if the individual in question was cruel and manipulative. It was therefore unsettling that his Master had succumbed to a simple stomach virus, but the old man would no doubt recover quickly enough and return to terrorizing his apprentice.

The Sith's com beeped and Vader stiffened at the name on the holoscreen.

He carefully pressed the com button with one great index finger.

"Yes, my master?" he inquired respectfully.

"Get more moof juice and bring it to me," Palpatine ordered, his voice faintly tinny through the com.

Vader hesitated.

"Are you certain it is agreeing with you, Master?" he asked delicately.

His master's tone was impatient, "Moof juice is making me feel much better but the new food droid you sent me still refuses to secure some more. Would you care to explain why my droids are malfunctioning?"

"I do not know," Vader replied carefully. "I discovered an odd subroutine in the droid which you destroyed earlier. The droid was programmed to keep you from drinking moof juice or eating any dish made from Jogan fruit or meilooroon. Perhaps they are unhealthy for you, Master?"

There was a contemplative pause and then the Emperor spoke more calmly, "That is extraordinary, Lord Vader. I do not remember having any issues with those foods. But it matters not. I don't care for either Jogan fruit or meilooroon, and you can provide me with my moof juice during this illness. Get me more now!"

There was only one thing Vader could say to this.

"Yes, my master."

/

Twelve hours later

Sheev Palpatine, Emperor of the known galaxy, opened his eyes and loosened his clenched hands. Again, he had been tormented with unpleasant dreams of being trapped, of struggling to break free ...

But no, it was just a bad dream. Sidious sighed, swung his wrinkled legs out of bed, and walked bare footed over to the shielded window which showed the vast array of lights of the southern reaches of Imperial City.

Palpatine gazed over the twinkling lights below him, then raised his eyes to observe the myriad colors from spacecraft ascending and descending ...

His breath suddenly caught in astonishment. The stars glittered like diamonds in the vast array of the heavens, vibrant even amongst the fog of light of Imperial City.

The old man shook his head in bewilderment. How long had it been since he had appreciated the beauty of the stars. The beauty of anything?

/

When the Emperor woke up the next morning, Malvos was waiting for him.

"Cease your hovering," Sheev muttered angrily.

The other man regarded him gravely with hooded eyes.

"I am merely concerned about you, Sheev. You have been quite ill."

"I just need to rest."

"Are you taking your medicine? Are you eating at all?"

Palpatine opened his mouth to describe his issues with food and drink and medicine and recalcitrant food droids, then shut it as a faint warning sounded in the back of his head. He deliberately made his Force sense muzzy and amorphous.

"I took my medicine, yes," he grumbled. "As for eating, yes, a little. I'm being careful or my stomach rebels."

Malvos relaxed infinitesimally and bowed slightly, "I am relieved, Sheev. I am merely concerned about you."

"Please just let me sleep," the old Emperor replied peevishly.

"As you wish."

/

The next morning

Sheev Palpatine, Emperor of the known galaxy, stood quietly on the balcony adjacent to his bedroom.

He carefully lifted a cup of moof juice to his lips, took a long drink, then stared gravely at the remaining orange liquid.

It had been more than two full days since he had last eaten or drunk anything except the moof juice provided by Darth Vader. He had taken the medication brought by Malvos just once, and promptly vomited it up. The other times, he had surreptitiously poured the medicine down the refresher and left the empty glass on his bedside table.

And it was obvious, absolutely obvious, that ... that ...

He was suddenly full of rage and bewilderment and horror and anger. He wanted to kill him, kill him!

But realistically, it wasn't even clear if he could kill him. He'd been under the other man's influence for so long ...

What should he do? If he talked to Vader about it all, how would Vader react? It was all too likely that Vader would side with Sidious's oppressor. It wasn't like he and the former Anakin Skywalker had a close and trusting relationship!

There was a sudden jolt in the Force and Palpatine spun around suddenly, his hand dropping to his waist where his lightsaber wasn't.

He didn't even know where his lightsaber was. He'd been guarded for so long by shields and Imperial Royal Guards and yes, Malvos, and realistically, he was old ...

The Emperor relaxed in relief as a man stepped cautiously onto the balcony and dropped to his knees.

"Rise, Agent Krill," he ordered even as he focused his green-yellow eyes on the man. Krill was one of the Emperor's Hands, completely loyal and faithful to the Emperor.

He hoped.

"My master," the dark haired man responded, rising to his feet and extending a datapad. "An individual has been captured during a Rebel raid on the Tanjay garrison who is, I assert, the man who destroyed the Death Star at Yavin."

Palpatine's nostrils flared and his eyes glowed yellow. The Death Star had been his triumph, his precious toy, and some loathsome Rebel pilot had managed an unheard of shot to destroy the battle station. The individual would die slowly and unpleasantly ...

His enraged thoughts ground to a sudden halt as he read the second paragraph of the report.

He stopped, and reread it, and reread it again.

It could not, it just could not be. It could not could not could not ...

"Where is the prisoner?" the Emperor rasped to Krill.

"He is being held on Tanjay, your Highness, in the maximum security cells. I did not inform the acting governor of his identity as the destroyer of the Death Star, but I am certain of my information."

Palpatine hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded, "You have done very well indeed, Agent Krill. Send a coded message to the governor that the prisoner is not to be interrogated or harmed in any way, but that he must be heavily guarded."

"Do you wish for him to be brought here?" the agent asked respectfully.

Darth Sidious gazed out at the sprawling ecumenopolis which stretched as far as the eye could see.

"No," he replied absently. "No, I have another plan. Quietly order my private shuttle here immediately."

/

The Eclipse

In orbit around Imperial Center

2 hours later

"Stay on Imperial Center and ensure that the government continues operating in a reasonably efficient manner, Lord Vader," Palpatine ordered his apprentice through the holoterminal.

The great mask was, of course, completely devoid of emotion but even across the vast distance separating them, Sidious could sense Vader's confusion.

"Are you ... quite well, my master?" the younger Sith asked carefully.

Palpatine glanced at his large cooling unit in the corner, which was stacked with cases of moof juice obtained by Vader at Sidious's request.

"I am indeed well," Palpatine replied soothingly. "This illness has exhausted me and I wish to spend some time away from the seat of government. I am sure I will return within two weeks time and if there is some urgent matter well, Tanjay is not too far away."

"Very well, my master."

Darth Sidious shut off the com, hesitated, then entered an alternate code. A moment later, his nemesis appeared on the screen.

"Yes, Sheev?"

"I am on the Eclipse, in orbit."

"I know," the other man stated coldly. "This sudden decision to leave the planet seems unwise."

"I am tired of being here," Palpatine replied in a petulant tone. "All these people with their Force blind minds, all the guards and their endless stupidity. I am exhausted and still recovering from my illness. I wish to recover in peace. I assume that Lord Vader can keep the government shambling along, especially with a little surreptitious assistance from you."

The other man's eyes narrowed slightly but he only nodded, "As you wish."

/

(Makeshift) Throne Room

Governor's Mansion

Lorta (Capitol of Tanjay)

Tanjay

10 hours later

Emperor Palpatine gazed out of the heavily shielded transparisteel window and focused his aged eyes on the green clad mountains which rose to break purplish low hanging clouds.

Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. A verdant wonder.

There was a soft chime from behind him and Sidious used the Force to twirl his throne around toward the door. He grabbed his current cup of moof juice and took a long sip even as he watched the six stormtroopers approach with a prisoner in their midst.

The troopers parted as they reached Palpatine, revealing the manacled form of a very young man, with dark blond hair, blue eyes, and a cleft in his chin.

Darth Sidious shook his head slightly. He had, until this moment, doubted Krill's report. But now he knew, to the very depths of his being, that this young man was indeed the offspring of Darth Vader. The young man's untrained Force presence was off the charts in power, for one thing, and for another he was the very image of Anakin Skywalker before Skywalker/Vader had been scalded in lava.

"Leave us," Palpatine ordered the guards, who retreated obediently.

The young man glared at the old man on his swiveling chair.

"Who are you?" Skywalker demanded insolently.

Palpatine blinked in astonishment, "You don't know?"

Both blond eyebrows rose impudently.

"Should I?"

The Emperor stared thoughtfully at the young men, then leaned back, "I am Emperor Palpatine, young Skywalker, so yes, I expected you to recognize me. Regardless of where you have hidden yourself all your life, you must have seen my image somewhere!"

Skywalker's jaw dropped and the boy rolled his eyes, "You are not the Emperor."

"I most certainly am," Palpatine replied rather pettishly. "I am Emperor Palpatine, master of the Known Galaxy."

Skywalker continued to stand proudly, hands manacled, with a sneer on his normally pleasant features, "Whatever you're trying to pull, it won't work."

"All right, fine," Sheev muttered wearily, and gestured at the young man. Skywalker's chains dropped from his wrists with a clatter, and the youth stared first at them in awe, then at a chair which was now floating delicately through the air from the side of the room. He watched in amazement as the chair lowered gently onto the floor.

"As you can see, I am not trying to trick you. I am clearly a strong Force Sensitive. Please sit, young Skywalker," Palpatine said, trying to sound gracious. In his own ears, it was a rather feeble attempt but then he was used to being menacing, grumpy, irritable, angry, and a host of other negative emotions. Not gracious.

The boy bit his lip at this display of Force power but shook his head resolutely, "I prefer to stand. If ... if you are the Emperor, then I want nothing to do with you and ... besides, this could be some kind of trick. In fact, it must be. I'm not important enough for the Emperor to want to talk to me."

Palpatine blew his lips out in irritation. He had spent literally years manipulating Anakin Skywalker back in the day but he was tired, and honestly rather confused, and he wasn't sure he was up to dealing with another stubborn young Skywalker.

"Well, I see you require additional proof," he responded wearily, and grabbed his holopad and started surfing the Holonet. After a few seconds, he found a Holonet report from the most recent Empire Day celebration with his image front and center, and sent the holopad floating towards his prisoner.

Young Skywalker stared at the holopad nervously, as if it might bite him, before cautiously taking it. A moment later, the boy's eyes were fixed on the screen for a full minute before lifting to stare in amazement at the aged despot on his throne.

Palpatine sensed the moment the young man realized the truth. The blue eyes widened incredulously and Skywalker's fear, and resolution, rose to new heights.

"You look remarkably like your father," Sheev commented absently,

The young man blinked and his forehead creased in astonishment, "You ... you knew my father?"

Now it was Palpatine's turn to blink, "Well, of course I knew your father. I have ..."

He trailed away and frowned. Skywalker didn't know, obviously, that his father was busy tearing around the galaxy as the Strong Arm of the Empire. That seemed rather odd. Or perhaps not. There were a few rogue Jedi still scattered among the planets and if one of them had interacted with the boy, well, the last thing they would want would be for the son of Darth Vader to know that he was the son of Darth Vader.

"I knew your mother too," Sheev added. "Padme Amidala of Naboo. Remarkable woman. You get your looks from your father but your height is all Padme. She was a tiny spitfire."

Skywalker's eyes were bugging out now in disbelief and to Palpatine's relief, the youth sank into the offered chair, apparently because he couldn't stand well anymore.

"You knew my ..."

"I did, yes."

The youth frowned at the old man on the throne and tilted his head slightly, regarding the Sith with surprisingly wise eyes.

"I do believe you," Skywalker murmured resolutely. "You're telling the truth. What do you want? Not that it matters because I'm not doing anything for you."

Palpatine's already wrinkled face wrinkled more as the old man cogitated for a long moment before he nodded thoughtfully.

"I need you to be a ... a mirror to me, so to speak."

"A mirror?" the youth replied, his eyes widened in what was clearly horror.

"Not literally," Sidious replied with a wave of his hand. "A psychological mirror. An emotional mirror. I find myself at the entrance to the Kessel Run but uncertain as to whether I should enter the Maw or not. The hyperspace lane less traveled is uncertain and dangerous, but perhaps the best way to go. Does that make sense, young Skywalker?"

The boy shook his head, "No."

Palpatine sighed again and pulled the holopad (gently) from Skywalker's grip so that he could enter in several secret codes and find ...

He gestured and the holopad floated back to the youth, who looked at the image in confusion.

"Uh, who are these people?"

"That is me on the left, young Skywalker, when I about your age. And the one on the right is my identical twin, Malvos."

/
Author Note: Many thanks to my wonderful husband for his editing!