The Lost Ones

18

Brakiss sealed the locking mechanism on the door to his private office, changing the access code to make absolutely certain no one could disturb him. He wouldn’t allow even Tamith Kai to eavesdrop on his special communications with the great Imperial Leader.

Brakiss always found inspiration on the walls of his Shadow Academy office, where the exploding stars, broken planets, and cascading glaciers reminded him of the fury locked within the universe. By using the dark side as his focus, Brakiss tapped into that incredible energy and used it for his own benefit, to help pave the way for the return of the Empire.

He set the glowpanels to low as he waited for the contact, checking his chronometer. Speaking with his ominously powerful leader filled Brakiss with both terror and awe, and he was forced to use a Jedi calming technique, though patience was very difficult.

The Great Leader of the Second Imperium had enormous burdens and responsibilities. He was frequently late for his scheduled communications—not that Brakiss would ever dare mention it. The Leader set his own schedule; Brakiss was merely the dutiful slave who knew his place in the grand scheme.

Just as the Rebels depended on the overestimated protection of their vaunted Jedi Knights, so the new Leader would have his own secret weapon: an army of Dark Jedi who could use the dark side of the Force to carve a broad place in history for the Second Imperium.

But Dark Jedi were notoriously dangerous and unstable, prone to delusions of grandeur. Realizing this risk, the Great Leader had taken precautions to protect himself from the Shadow Academy. The huge ring-shaped station was riddled with deadly explosives, detonators threaded through the life-support systems, the hull, and thousands of other places that Brakiss neither knew nor wanted to consider. The moment his Dark Jedi gave hints that they might get out of control, the Great Leader would detonate those explosives and end the experiment without remorse.

Brakiss had to show success after success to keep his powerful master happy—and the Shadow Academy had recently had several spectacular accomplishments indeed.

With a humming sound, the holographic generators in his sealed office activated, and Brakiss snapped to attention. The air shimmered in front of him as a massive image crystallized into focus, transmitted from some far-distant hiding place in the Core Systems. Static rippled along the edges of the gigantic cowled head that loomed over Brakiss, scowling down at him.

Brakiss instinctively averted his eyes, bowing his head in reverence. After performing the appropriate gestures of obeisance, he looked up into the face of the Great Leader of the Second Imperium—the hooded, wrinkled form of Emperor Palpatine himself!

Though the holographic image was fuzzy and fragmented from being transmitted across so many systems on the Holonet, through asteroid belts and solar flares and ion storms, the features of the sallow-faced Emperor were unmistakable. Brakiss looked adoringly at the harsh paternal figure. Here was the man who would make all star systems quake with terror until they learned to live again with respect and glory, in the Imperial way.

The Emperor’s skin was ravaged with wrinkles brought on by too deep an immersion in the potent powers of evil. His yellow reptilian eyes blazed from hollowed sockets, and wattles on his neck hung down like the throat sac of a scrawny lizard.

Brakiss knew that the rest of the galaxy thought the Emperor had died many years ago, first in the explosion of the second Death Star, and then six years later in the destruction of the last of Palpatine’s clones. But the Emperor’s death must have been some kind of illusion, because Brakiss could see the transmission with his own eyes. He could not guess how the Emperor had survived, what sort of trick the great man had played on everyone—but with the Force, many things were possible.

Master Skywalker had taught him that.

When he finally spoke, the Emperor’s voice was harsh and raspy. “So, Insignificant One, what is your report for today? More successes, I hope. I am tired of failures, Brakiss. I grow impatient to bring about my reign and the Second Imperium.”

Brakiss bowed again. “Yes, my master. I have good news to report. We are sending along the hyperdrive cores and turbolaser batteries stolen from the Rebel supply ship, as you ordered. I think your glorious military machine will make efficient use of them.”

“Yesss,” Palpatine hissed.

Brakiss continued. “Here at the Shadow Academy your new force of Dark Jedi grows more powerful each day. I am particularly pleased that we have uncovered new candidates from the underworld of Imperial Center—exactly as you suspected, my master. No one will notice their disappearance, and we are free to turn them.”

“Yesss!” the Emperor said. “I told you it would be simpler to turn candidates whose lives held little hope. It is especially ironic to snatch them from under the very noses of the Rebel usurpers in the government.”

Brakiss nodded. “Yes, indeed, my master. We merely offer the new candidates something they need—and they are desperate to take it from us.”

“Ah,” the image of the Emperor said. He seemed almost—almost—proud.

Brakiss drew a deep breath before continuing. “Naturally, many of these new candidates have no Jedi potential, but still they remain eager for opportunities. Therefore, we have begun training one group as elite stormtroopers. They know the underworld of Coruscant very well, and could prove to be effective spies or saboteurs, should we choose to employ them in such a fashion.”

The projection of the Emperor nodded inside his cowl. “Agreed, Brakiss. Very good.” A ripple of static flickered across the transmitted image, and the Emperor’s voice wavered. “You shall survive another day.”

“Yes, my master,” Brakiss said.

The expression on the Emperors ravaged face grew stern. “Don’t disappoint me, Brakiss,” he said. “I should be most displeased if I was forced to blow up your Shadow Academy.”

Brakiss bowed low, and his silvery robes pooled around him. “I would be displeased as well,” he said.

The holographic image of the Emperor shimmered, then broke into sparkles of static as the transmission cut off.

Brakiss felt himself trembling all over, as he did each time he spoke to the awesome Palpatine. Exhausted, he sat down again at his desk and began to review his next set of plans, obsessively careful not to allow any mistakes.