So Beautifully Shattered

Thank you to all who have reviewed. I am very pleased you are enjoying the story and I hope you continue to do so. This is different style-wise for me, but it will earn its NC-17 rating, I can't not write the higher rated fics. It's just that this story requires a lot more set up since I don't have an actual movie upon which to base 'missing scenes/moments', which was the main style of 'Succumb/The End Justifies the Means'. I appreciate your readership and your support very much and I hope to keep hearing from you as the story progresses!


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Chapter One

Converging Paths


“Out of the wild disorder
That spreads from border to border
I see a new world rising…”

Ella Wheeler Wilcox


Tah-Oss.

It was a nondescript world closer to nowhere than somewhere. Officially it existed, its name and vital information carefully listed and recorded in the various archival libraries throughout the galaxy, and yet the holomaps tended to ignore the planet’s individuality by lumping the remote outpost with the nearby - and marginally better known – Korla Niya system. In all likelihood the Tah-Oss’ rigid and insular society allowed this state of affairs to continue because, for the most part, they preferred to be forgotten. Then there was always the possibility the misconception was allowed to remain for the simple reason no one could be bothered to make the effort to complain. With the Tah-Ossians it was always hard to tell.

The rest of the galaxy certainly didn’t care one way or the other. After all, there was nothing strategic about the obscure planet’s location, no natural resources to attract the attention of either the corporate sector or the myriad of greedy governments looking for another victim to exploit. It boasted nothing in the way of scenic beauty or historical value with which it might have lured travelers or tweaked the academic interest of the scientific community. Rugged and largely barren, over half of the planet’s terrain was completely inhospitable to all known life forms, and the parts which were habitable were unexceptional, consisting mainly of rocky plains dotted with small farms just managing to eke out a modest living. Where nothing natural grew, commercial centers catering to a few lackluster industries and the slow but steady occupation of off-world trading had managed to take root. In a constant state of disrepair, these downtrodden metropolitan areas would have been hard pressed to say they had ever seen better days.

For more years than anyone alive could remember the small planet had been left to its own devices by an increasingly apathetic and ineffectual Republic. Mired down with corruption and political infighting, the galactic government had no time for a backwater world with nothing to recommend itself. The lone senator selected to represent the mostly oblivious population hadn’t been back for years and the loose federation of local governments never worked up the apathy to send someone else. So the few cities barely worthy of the title struggled along, exporting the meager crops coaxed from the tired soil by obstinate farmers too set in their ways to make the effort to leave, while the urbanites went about their daily business, never really prospering but working hard enough to keep their collective heads just above the financial waterline separating them from true poverty.

Tah-Oss - unremarkable, ignored and dismissed, the dull grayish-green mass sat sullenly in its little corner of space like a child’s toy long since abandoned by an uncaring owner. So it would have remained if not for the machinations of a determined group of “patriots” who effortlessly drew whole systems to their banner with rousing cries of less bureaucracy and better representation, all with glib promises of autonomy for the masses. These ‘Separatists’, as they called themselves, took on the diseased and rotting corpse of the Republic with a vengeance. The end result was the first full scale war in over a thousand years and it changed everything.

One system, two systems, three systems, four. The line drawn in the sand blurred beneath the march of the soldier’s feet. The protests of the innocent were drowned out by the cries of the dying.

The chaos created by the Clone Wars spread like a deadly plague to ravage the once peaceful galaxy. Nothing was left untouched. The long, drawn out military campaigns destroyed whole civilizations, polluted worlds, ruined commerce and industries, and decimated food and medical supplies. If that weren’t enough, almost every system saw the rise of local bands of insurrectionists; groups who had their own agendas, their own wants and desires to satisfy. These terrorist cells added to the hellish nightmare by ruthlessly taking advantage of the confusion and disorder to create additional mayhem.
As often happens in war, sometimes on the battlefields it was impossible to tell which side fought for the greater good. Whether either of the combatants could have ever claimed that moral high ground was questionable at best; and, later, the topic of useless debate by historians and academics in their towers of ivory.

It’s fair to say that far from the Core lawlessness reigned with a free hand. With no resources available to patrol the space lanes, the trade routes were disrupted, hijackings and other acts of piracy crippled supply chains already weakened by their proximity to combat zones. In an effort to alleviate the worsening situation, military convoys were established to protect the precious cargos and insure delivery. But it was all to no avail.

As the war dragged on, the military went from protector to confiscator and finally, to destroyer, and once honorable intentions caved beneath the weight of corruption and a rise in the revenge mentality. Entire populations starved while ships with holds full of vital food and medicines were blown out of the sky - the destruction justified because it kept the supplies from falling into so-called enemy hands. In other instances shipments mysteriously disappeared only to show up a few weeks later on the black market, for sale to the highest bidder.

Inevitably, out of the hysteria and destruction rose a burgeoning but illegal business. No matter what the times there are always a few entrepreneurs around on the look out for lucrative opportunities to make a financial killing; beings who understand the concept of supply and demand. If the situation also meant they could simultaneously thumb their noses at the government, all the better.

Smuggling began as a slow trickle but as legitimate routes and suppliers were consumed by war the illicit industry exploded. What before had been exclusive to a handful of lowly slave runners, now became the most profitable undertaking one could hope for. And Tah-Oss, far from the Core and missing from most official navigational charts, turned into a smugglers haven.

The quiet sleepiness wrapping the population like a worn but familiar blanket vanished not long after the Separatists first gave themselves their name. Money flowed, trade increased, and new businesses sprang up everywhere. The existing spaceports, all but falling apart from years of neglect and lack of funds, were given a new lease on life thanks to the constant ebb and flow of displaced persons passing through as they tried to outrun the ravages of war and the steady rise of crime.

Overnight questionable places of accommodation and entertainment opened their doors to the disenfranchised masses who stumbled off of refugee ships, shock and confusion worrying their expressions. They were welcomed with open arms as long as they had the necessary credits. In order to safeguard Tah-Oss’ newfound prosperity those who were destitute found themselves quickly hustled back aboard the next outgoing ship to search for a more sympathetic world.

On the fringes of the booming businesses of semi-legitimate clubs and bars were the seedier places where the most desperate hung their hats and plied their trade. Dingy taverns and clubs where one could grab a drink, buy some spice, find a woman or man, locate new cargos to transport, and gamble away the time between arrival and departure. These were the places frequented by the smugglers, spacers, and thieves; second homes where they wiled away the time between jobs. Anonymity was the word of the day. No one looked at anyone twice or for too long unless they wanted trouble.

All and all, Tah-Oss was the perfect place to get lost.


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“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

Lord Acton


Coruscant
Imperial Senate

From his familiar seat in what had once been the office of the Supreme Chancellor, Emperor Palpatine surveyed his view of Imperial City with territorial pride. The panoramic scene spread out before him in all its spectacular glory, a living landscape of gleaming spires and spacious plazas filled with gullible inhabitants over whom he could gloat. For fourteen years he had schemed and plotted to overthrow the very government he led, using every skill he possessed to maintain his guise of a wise and benevolent elected official of the Republic. How many hours out of those years had he spent gazing out from this very vantage point, watching the unsuspecting masses scurry by? And all the while he’d been maneuvering his sacrificial pawns along the carefully planned out course leading to their downfall and to his greatest victory.

Now, he was preparing to leave it all behind and move on. It was an upward move, to be sure. An emperor could not stay in the very building symbolizing a government so lacking in credibility and strength, its reputation in tatters. A statement had to be made. The Republic was dead, a diseased and rotting corpse, and the days of the glorious Empire had begun!

Gnarled hands absently ran along the smooth material of the richly upholstered armrests and he noted with disapproval the beginning signs of wear on the blood red fabric. The change in environments was coming not a moment too soon. For too long things had been run by bureaucratic credit pinchers with no true discernible power or sense of how to actually rule. One only had to look at the make up of the Galactic Senate to see where their problems had lain; females taking on roles and responsibilities which exceeded their capabilities. Hadn’t they proved time after time that they made decisions based on their emotions instead of facts and sound judgment? Yet still they were allowed to sit on committees and decide what laws were passed! Palpatine couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head in disgust at the idiocy of it all. Was it really any wonder the fools had fallen?

Then there was the alarming issue of how the Republic had allowed themselves to be overrun by all the non-humans. Species, barely sentient, given free run of the government and the Senate buildings, treated as equals to their human counterparts! And commoners milling about at all times, mixing with their betters. Where was the mystique, the privacy, the majesty? That was their so called democracy in action. Disgusting.

His new Imperial palace would change all that. Far grander than anything constructed under the old regime, its purpose was to both impress and intimidate. It would separate the Emperor from the masses; create an aura of fear and respect. The unknown was far more terrifying than the everyday. He was the thing that would go bump in the night; the thing children would fear as their mother’s tucked them into bed. Fear would keep his subjects in line.

In order to impress, no expense had been spared when it came to his palace. Only the finest, rarest materials had been used. Alderaanian wood. Precious metals found only in the mysterious Haaps system. The finest quarried stone from Naboo. The Emperor’s new windowless quarters, complete with three meter thick walls, had been built to his exact specifications. Located deep within the structure, they were impenetrable to enemy attacks by air and armed against possible assassination attempts. Riddling the vast structure was a labyrinth of escape tunnels which, in turn, led to hidden rooms or dead ends with fatal traps for those who were up to no good. Although he fully expected his apprentice to eventually ferret out most of them – he was a curious boy - no one else knew of their existence. No one else alive, that is. The day of completion had seen the architect team and builders quietly executed to maintain his sanctuary’s secrets for all eternity. One did what one must. He was the most important man in the galaxy, after all.

It was all proceeding as planned. Palpatine was more than ready to withdraw from the tedious day to day operations that had marked his life as Supreme Chancellor. Such mundane activities were, simply put, beneath him now. As Emperor he no longer needed to be accessible to government officials from every backwater planet that came knocking or to personally mediate all those petty squabbles between politicians. Those loathsome, time consuming duties would now be doled out to his circle of sycophants who in turn would report solely to him. He had already set in motion the establishment of a system of governors to manage established sections of the galaxy. Besides Lord Vader and his two faithful aides, only these men - the governors and his political liaisons - would be allowed to meet with him directly. It was vital that Imperial business be conducted in a secure location, in staterooms truly befitting the emperor of the first Galactic Empire.

Still, Palpatine sighed nostalgically, he would miss his view. It wasn’t the breathtaking skyline or the strange beauty of the multi-colored traffic lanes at night he was thinking of - he’d stopped noticing such things years ago - rather he would miss that delicious tangible knowledge the scene represented. For nothing gave the Emperor a greater twisted thrill upon entering the room every morning than being reminded that he owned the lives of every citizen, not only those who passed within view of his floor to ceiling window, but of every being in the galaxy. They lived or died at his will. He had his ultimate power now and there was no one to stop him. The Senate had been reduced to a shell of its former self; mere puppets under the control of the Empire. The Jedi were outlawed and all but extinct. And the Hero of the Republic, the Jedi’s Chosen One, was his personal weapon of death and destruction, of total domination.

Lord Vader. How right Palpatine had been when he had taunted Yoda with the boy’s potential. The Emperor’s newest Sith apprentice, the one he had nurtured the longest, had so far exceeded expectations. With Lord Vader’s assistance, Palpatine had solidified his control over much of the galaxy in a far more timely and efficient manner than he’d previously thought possible. System after system had fallen into line, each governing body signing the Recognition of Supremacy Act with hardly a whimper of protest. They were usually so grateful the fighting was over and normalcy was returning it never occurred to them they were signing away so many of their rights. But when some daring, and extremely stupid souls actually thought it behooved their pathetic government to speak out, to question the Empire’s legitimacy? Here Palpatine allowed himself a self-satisfied smile that was far closer to a sneer. Well, it was in those most unfortunate incidences that persuasion of a more forceful nature had to be taken and Vader was very, very good in such cases of…what had Vader called it? Ah, yes, "aggressive negotiations", that was the rather amusing term his young friend had used.

The smug smirk slowly faded from his face. Palpatine was nothing if not a realist. He had achieved his goals through clever strategizing and by anticipating his enemy’s moves. He knew better than to imagine he could rest easy. For the last month or so he had been pondering a potential problem he foresaw with his pet fallen Jedi. With most of the galaxy under the Empire’s control and any rumblings of discontent somewhat quieted, there was always the danger Vader might not have enough to keep himself occupied. Palpatine was far from ready to be struck down so the Rule of Two could be played out. He would be damned if he would just let his apprentice take him permanently out of play and reap the benefits of all his hard work without putting in the time or effort. The very thought offended him deeply. One had to pay their dues after all, and after years spent suppressing his true nature and kow-towing to the Jedi he deserved to enjoy his time on the throne, the one he had brought into existence!

The Emperor knew through his network of spies Vader had so far made no moves to find a suitable candidate to train, but that was scarcely comforting. The boy had hardly had the opportunity, so it proved nothing. He knew better than anyone that it only took a chance meeting. Now, with less for a bored and impatient Vader to do…well, they did say idle hands were a Sith apprentice’s playground.

Palpatine watched the traffic lanes flow by, turning over the possibilities, studying and weighing them carefully. The spires of the Jedi Temple caught his eye. The Jedi.

When Vader wasn’t on his official duties he was never more content than when tracking down and killing Jedi who had escaped the initial execution of Order 66. While he heartily agreed all Jedi needed to be eradicated, the Emperor wasn’t quite as obsessed about it as Vader. With other matters taking precedence, Vader had been discouraged from going off on dedicated Jedi hunting missions. However, now that the political situation had stabilized this side hobby of Vader’s could prove useful. Engaging his interest and stoking the anger would keep his mind from wandering into treasonous areas.

As the Emperor came to a decision on his course of action regarding the newest Sith Lord, he was keenly aware of its fatal flaw. His solution could only be temporary at best. After all, it wasn’t as if there was an unlimited supply of renegade Jedi. With a vengeful Vader on the loose they would run out of prey sooner rather than later, at which time he would be right back where he started. Even with the likelihood of some military or government crisis occurring, such an event would only delay the inevitable and, just as with the hunting of the Jedi, would only serve as a stop gap measure in the long run.

Palpatine was nobody’s fool. Years earlier he’d donned the guise of kindly mentor to gain the trust of the approval starved Padawan and it had proved a great success. Then, while that troublesome little slut of Anakin’s had been alive he had held the upper hand due to his knowledge, or rather his supposed knowledge, of how to save her wretched life. Her well-being had been completely irrelevant, of course. It was the threat to her life that had been the key to turning Anakin, and what a fortunate event that prophetic dream and the boy’s reaction to it had been! However, in retrospect, perhaps it would have been better had Amidala lived. The Senator would have been a nice little insurance policy to hold over a bored Vader.

Perhaps it was time to seek some guidance? Palpatine closed his eyes and reached out into the Force. Something shimmered and stirred there. An icy blackness brushed gingerly against the edges of his warped mind. Across the invisible void the dark side answered back, whispering to him in its seductive voice. Multiple paths sprang up, each originating from various nonsensical points before starting to weave across a field of stars. They spun and twirled as they made their way across the heavens, gradually meandering in the same general direction. As seconds passed their speed increased and it became clear those random paths were converging on a particular dully blinking speck of light. The images began to fade slowly away, but the small spark of light representing their end meeting point was the last to disappear.

Palpatine’s eyes flashed yellow in his deformed face and his lips peeled back to reveal his yellow teeth. Unlike in past visions, he hadn’t seen faces or actual events, yet he was satisfied nonetheless. If this portent was right, and he had no reason to doubt otherwise, then the resulting coming together of those paths would douse any sparks of treason from Lord Vader’s mind for a great while.

The scales of fortune were tipping in Palpatine’s favor once again, just as it should be. He had worked too hard and for too many years to see it all go to Vader. Oh no, he intended to be around to enjoy the fruits of his labor for a long, long time.

Energized, the Emperor swiveled his chair around to his desk. Pressing a button, a selection of hologlobes rose from a tray secreted in his desktop. Selecting the one nearest to him, he placed the small clear globe in the hollow depression in the middle of the tray. A wave of his hand served to immediately turn the great windows at his back opaque, leaving the room in muted darkness. Instantly a hologram star map sprang to life in the air around him.

Palpatine folded his hands carefully and leaned back into the cradle of his chair as he contemplated the three dimensional map of his Empire. The last update he’d had from Vader put him orbiting Tura in the Korla Niya system. Sent there when protests against new Imperial taxes had sparked an insurrection, Vader reported his success in suppressing the troublemakers within a day of arrival, which had been less than sixteen hours ago. Unfortunately it might take a bit longer to ensure news of the situation was contained. Apparently Vader’s methods, though effective, had been quite brutal and additional steps had to be taken to keep leaks from making it back to Coruscant.

Though the HoloNet was now completely controlled by the Empire that didn’t stop the rumors or the burgeoning illegal underground news outlets. Already there had been raids and the inevitable arrests. Really, what would it take for these malcontents to learn? His people were like children. What they didn’t know; wouldn’t hurt them. Dismissing that irritating thought for the immediate moment, he turned his attention back to the holomap.

Studying the projected starlights, the Emperor let the Force guide him. Sharp beady eyes turned unfocused and hazy as once again, the dark side guided its most faithful servant. At last his gaze fell on the tiny blip of Tah-Oss. Pulling the planet up on his database, Palpatine read both the official report and the information gathered by Imperial intelligence.

Smuggling operations…spice runners…center of criminal activity...suspected Jedi way station.

“And why wasn’t I informed of this? I am still the Emperor, am I not?” Palpatine muttered to himself angrily. Someone would pay for not reporting a potential Jedi escape route and instead merely entering the information into the database. But thoughts of a painful punishment for the incompetent culprit were shoved to the side for later consideration as a familiar tingle reasserted itself. He mustn’t lose sight of the big picture. Something on that hunk of rock was the answer to his current dilemma. All it would take was a tip by some anonymous lackey about a suspected Jedi escape route being nearby and Vader would be off. Ah, the impetuousness of youth. Once again his apprentice’s fault would work in his favor.

“I do hope you’re prepared for some games, my friend.” Emperor Palpatine murmured to himself as he rose from his chair. “Because I rather think I am.”

The eerie laughter could be heard in the outer offices and even the red robed Imperial guards shifted uneasily on their feet at the disturbing sound.


TBC

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