Aftermath: Empire's End (Star Wars: Aftermath #3)
Chuck Wendig
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….
For the first time in a generation, democracy has been restored to the galaxy. Although reeling from a crippling Imperial attack, the New Republic has managed to drive the remnants of the Empire into hiding. Still, the threat of continued violence will always remain while the war persists.
On the remote planet of Jakku, far from Republic eyes, the once-secretive Gallius Rax strives to rebuild the crumbling Empire in his own image. But his plans may soon be challenged by former Grand Admiral Rae Sloane who seeks to destroy Rax and reclaim her Empire from his dark machinations.
Unaware of Rax’s plot, Norra Wexley and her crew continue to pursue any information that could lead them to the fugitive Sloane. Convinced that Sloane holds the key to the Empire’s defeat, Norra’s search brings her closer and closer to Rax’s hidden army. For on Jakku, the Empire prepares to make its last stand where the fate of the galaxy will be decided.
The architecture of the Death Star, even in its unfinished reconstruction, brings awe to Admiral Gallius Rax. It is a world unto itself, and as he walks the hallway toward the turbolift, shepherded by a pair of red-helmeted guardsmen, he notices that the battle station hums and thrums all around him—a subtle vibration in which Rax hears a mad song. It is a song of might, of potency, of destruction. An Imperial opera in timbre and tremor.
He never set foot on the first incarnation of the Death Star. He wasn’t allowed to—it was his role to be kept at the margins, waiting for a destiny he was sure would never come. And yet now, here he is. Invited on board to see. Which suggests to him he is either soon to fulfill that destiny, or even sooner to die as his destiny withers on the vine.
The guards step forward, summoning a lift lit with red and white light, its black floor so smooth and so dark it’s like a mirror cast in obsidian and stained with moral decay. They usher Rax into it, but do not follow.
He goes up alone.
The turbolift opens.
There waits the Emperor at the far end of the throne room. The old man in his black cloak sits regarding the soft glowing curve of the Endor moon that lies beyond the radial viewport. Slowly, the chair spins.
Only half the man’s face can be seen. The lines in it have deepened considerably. Flesh sags from the jaw and the jowls, and his mouth is cast in a feral grimace that is somehow also a troubling smile. That face with that mouth is like a rotten piece of bag-cloth with a knife-slash cut in the fabric. The rest of his countenance is hidden in the shadow of the black hood.
It has been many years since Rax has seen Palpatine up close. The awfulness he once saw cast upon the man’s face has been carved into his skin and made flesh.
The sight of the Emperor robs him of breath. It steals from him a measure of strength, and his knees nearly give out. Palpatine has the presence of a collapsing star and the consumptive void that results from it. It draws you in. It takes something from you. It is a flensing, frightening force.
But Rax stands tall, as he once did on Jakku.
“Come,” Palpatine says, a rigor mortis claw summoning him.
Rax does as commanded. “My Emperor.” He bows his head.
“A shuttle has landed on the Sanctuary Moon,” the old man says. Rax doesn’t know how to answer this—the words come almost as an accusation, though not necessarily aimed at him. “Destiny accompanies that ship. There is one on board who challenges the course of fate as I have seen it.”
“I shall have the shuttle destroyed.”
“No, my boy. I have greater plans for the one on the shuttle—whether he will be a demonstration of my power or a slave to replace the one who has failed me, I cannot say. That remains unclear. But we are led to a moment in time, a moment of grave uncertainty. All things flow toward this moment.” His voice goes soft and his head eases back into his hood. “I sense…chaos. Weakness. I sense a shatterpoint.”
Rax thrusts out his chin and puffs up his chest. “Just tell me whatever it is you need, my lord.”
“I need you to be ready.”
“I am always ready.”
“It may soon be time for the Contingency.”
At that, Rax’s throat tightens. My destiny…
Palpatine continues: “You will go far away from here. You will take the Ravager and hide in the Vulpinus Nebula until the events of this shatterpoint resolve.”
“How will I know?”
“You will know. I will send a sentinel.”
Rax nods. “Yes, my lord.”
Palpatine regards him. Rax cannot see the Emperor’s eyes, but he can certainly feel them. Sticking him like pins. Dissecting him to see what he’s made of. “My boy. My precious boy. Are you ready to be the Outcast? Are you prepared to become the Contingency should it come to that? There will be others you must call to your side.”
“I know. And I am ready.” I am ready to go home. Because that’s what this means, does it not? It means one day soon returning to the sands of Jakku. To the Observatory. To everything he hates, and yet to the place that harbors his destiny—and the destiny of the galaxy as a whole.
“Then go. Time is precious. A battle will soon be upon us.”
“You will win it, most assuredly.”