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Braxant Sector, Bastion System
Imperial I-Class Star Destroyer 'The Devastator'
The Lord Inquisitor's Quarters
To say that Commander Thaddeus Drax was shocked upon hearing what I said is an understatement. The highest-ranking Imperial officer on the Devastator was, at this point, completely paralyzed—unable to say anything. Not even a single word.
Oh, I think I broke him, I thought to myself. But I had no doubt my friend was doing everything he could to assimilate the information he'd just heard.
On the other hand, Commander Drax tried to maintain some semblance of self-control, flapping like a goldfish while attempting to recover his discipline—which ultimately turned out to be completely ineffective. (Who would've thought.)
Perhaps I shall witness the famous Imperial discipline and stoicism fail, and panic take its place.
"THE EMPEROR…!" the Commander half-screamed, half-groaned, like he was in pain. It was actually a fairly squeaky mix of both, but perfectly understandable under the circumstances.
"...The Emperor is no longer with us, my Lord?"
Wow, he composed himself quickly. (Thaddeus falls into a chair.) Oh, I take that back.
Even now, he didn't dare voice the simple fact that the Emperor was dead. I mocked him mentally—but quickly chided myself. It was understandable. Hilarious... but understandable.
After all, it's completely understandable. In both Canon and Legends, Palpatine built a cult of personality and constructed the Empire around himself. It's natural that the Emperor's death wouldn't even register to the most loyal and fanatical. In Legends, due to the lack of any clear successor, the Empire was torn asunder—Thrawn and others loyal to the Empire tried to hold it together, but they failed. The so-called warlords splintered off. Warlords like Zsinj and Teradoc saw the opportunity to carve out their own fiefdoms.
Meanwhile, in Canon, the situation was very similar. However, the forces loyal to the Empire on Coruscant were much better organized and more effective at dealing with the New Republic—and probably would've won, if not for the Emperor's contingency plan.
Operation Cinder—a plan that existed solely to destroy everything. According to Palpatine, if his Empire could not protect him, and if he could not rule, then no one could.
Regardless, my existence has already altered the timeline. Not by much, but enough. Most loyalists will look to me, while any traitors will splinter off and try to build their own Empires. Which is great for me.
I've already planned to secure the nearby sectors, ensuring that when the time is right, I can safely cut myself off from the Core Worlds. I'm not touching that dumpster fire without a fleet of Super Star Destroyers. And of course, the Bilbringi Shipyards—critical to my plans and one of the best defensive positions in the galaxy, with only one hyperspace lane running through it.
Once all that's done, I'll have a well-defended territory to work with. Then I can sit back and watch the galaxy descend into chaos.
I was snapped out of my thoughts by a grunt from the Commander. He had managed to wrestle down his emotions, and the iron discipline typical of Imperial officers had returned.
Thaddeus looked at me, his tone serious. "My Lord, are you certain?"
I nodded.
He narrowed his eyes, his gaze unwavering. "What are your orders, my Lord? And may I ask how you came to possess such knowledge? Is it related to what happened on the bridge?"
I was slightly surprised that he'd taken my word for it so easily, but quickly decided to share my plans going forward.
"Our plan, my friend, is to speak with the Grand Moff on Bastion and gain his allegiance. Then we'll push for subjugation of the New Territories, followed by the Northern Dependencies—Bilbringi Shipyards are vital to our survival. After that, we move toward the Trans-Hydian Territories, either conquering them or earning the loyalty of the local Moffs and Grand Moffs. Once we've done that, we'll fortify the two hyperspace lanes and build up our forces in preparation for the inevitable Galactic Civil War.
"As for how I know the Emperor is dead—I sensed it in the Force. The incident caused a massive disruption. It nearly knocked me out a few minutes ago and has undoubtedly alerted every other Force-sensitive being out there."
The Commander followed along but looked skeptical when I mentioned the Force.
"Forgive me, my Lord, but all this Force business sounds... bizarre to me. I don't doubt your power or knowledge."
Hardly surprising. Most officers in the Empire—hell, even outside it—view the Force as superstition. A fairy tale.
It's wild to think that just twenty years ago, the Force was known and feared. But after Order Sixty-Six, the Jedi were exterminated. Any Force-sensitive children or adults were either killed or taken by the Inquisitorius. I've got to hand it to Palpatine—he nearly erased all knowledge of the Force from the galaxy.
Still, I had to show off a little.
I stretched out my hand—not that it was necessary, but who wouldn't want to do it that way?—and lifted the Commander into the air, twirling him like a pen. Nearly touched the ceiling with him.
Probably not the best way to demonstrate Force theory... but definitely fun.
"My Lord, please put me down," Thaddeus begged, just a bit.
I sighed and gently lowered him into a chair.
"My Lord... what was that show of strength for?"
I am not going to answer him but mainly to show off, and to test something.
Thanks to the memories from this body's former owner—and Darth Nox—I had little trouble. It was the first time I used the Force without brute strength. The feeling was incredible.
Like I was surrounded by energy. Like the Commander and I were separated by something bending to my will. It's hard to put into words—but it was better than anything I'd ever felt. Like I was connected to everything, and it all obeyed me.
"Commander," I said, "this display was to show you that the Force is real. It's not just some mystical power wielded by myself, Lord Vader, or the Inquisitorius—well, used to be, in Vader's case."
Then I asked, "Tell me—what is the Force to you?"
Thaddeus blinked in surprise but composed himself enough to answer.
"The Force... is, in my opinion, nothing more or less than a set of telekinetic abilities. Picking up objects, influencing others... and that's about all I know, my Lord."
"Wrong, my friend," I said, disappointed.
"The Force isn't a skill set. It's an energy field that surrounds everything—binds everyone and everything together. Force-sensitives can manipulate that energy. They can influence minds, matter, even the environment.
"You can explain it scientifically too—with Midichlorians. Symbiotic organisms that allow those with high counts to channel the Force through their body. But that's a lecture for another time."
Thaddeus still looked a bit lost, but nodded. "My Lord, I believe I understand. May we return to the matter at hand?"
I nodded.
"We must acknowledge reality and adapt. Without our intervention, the Empire will collapse. We must identify and eliminate traitors. I believe some of the Inquisitorius may follow me. The rest? They'll splinter off and fail.
"During this time, we cannot afford to falter."
I spoke with purpose, letting the Force guide my voice—subtly influencing the Commander, bending his loyalty not so much forcing his loyalty as just bringing something that was already there, buried in him.
Thaddeus took a deep breath and looked me in the eye.
"My Lord, as you are the legitimate heir to the Empire—since both Lord Vader and the Emperor are dead—my loyalty lies with you. I pledge my allegiance. Anyone who goes against you is a traitor."
He dropped to one knee and bowed.
I smirked beneath my mask, slightly proud of myself.
"Rise, my friend. We have much to do—and I will need your counsel and expertise."
Thaddeus stood, saluted, and awaited my signal. I nodded, and he left the room.
I stayed behind, contemplating the chaos to come.
The politics on Coruscant... the factions within the Empire... competing for power. Typical of every state apparatus in history.
The only one who held all of that together was the Emperor. He ensured coherence, suppressed civil wars. Vader and I—well, we crushed most rebellions before they became problems.
But now?
The throne is empty, and the jackals are circling. I have no doubt that once the Emperor's death becomes public, everyone will scramble for power.
Local governors, admirals, warlords—they'll try to create their own fiefdoms. Idiots. If they just focused on destroying the New Republic, maybe they'd have a chance. But no. They'll destroy each other first.
This is the beginning of a new era—an arms race for thrones and titles that ultimately mean nothing.
I sit, meditating, combing through the memories of both Heusman and Darth Nox, integrating as much as I can over the next few hours.