The grand atrium of the Senate building shimmered with golden light as Palpatine stood at its edge, the cityscape of Coruscant sprawling infinitely before him. High above, the Venator-class Star Destroyer began its slow ascension into orbit, the durasteel hull reflecting the pale glow of Coruscant's artificial daylight.
A smile crept onto his lips, subtle and calculated, though in this rare moment, tinged with genuine satisfaction.
"A strong young man, you have raised... proud, you should be," came the gravelly voice of Yoda, breaking the silence.
Palpatine turned slightly, his golden eyes settling on the diminutive Jedi Master. The old goblin-like creature had approached quietly, as was his way, but the Chancellor's awareness had long since been attuned to such movements.
"Proud..." Palpatine repeated softly, as if tasting the word, his gaze returning to the Venator. "I suppose I am. There has not been a single time that I have found that child lacking."
The words hung in the air, tinged with layers of meaning Yoda would never fully grasp.
To him, Lelouch was the pinnacle of what an apprentice should be: cunning, powerful, ruthless. He was overwhelming in the Force, his intellect unmatched, and his methods as precise as they were merciless. In Lelouch, he saw not just a successor but a reflection of himself—a mirror polished to perfection, showing not his flaws but his potential.
Now, he was a maelstrom of purpose and ambition, tempered by discipline but no less terrifying in his resolve. And Palpatine relished it.
'Yes, my son, perhaps my crowning achievement, the strongest Sith to ever live, unmatched even by the chosen one.' he thought, his smile widening. 'What have you prepared for me? A blade to my back? A challenge face-to-face with your saber ignited? Or perhaps the full force of your will unleashed against mine?'
Whatever Lelouch planned, Palpatine was eager to see it unfold. The spectacle of it—the grand clash of intellects and powers—would be the crowning moment of his life. He could feel the palpitations in the force... whatever it was, it was going to be grand.
"Much to learn, he still has," Yoda said thoughtfully, though there was an undercurrent of caution in his tone.
"Perhaps," Palpatine replied smoothly, within his voice, calculated response of a kind old father. "But he has already surpassed many. We should all strive to see such potential fulfilled."
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The twilight sky over Coruscant was painted in hues of orange and crimson as Obi-Wan Kenobi disembarked from his shuttle. The escort mission to Onderon had been uneventful, though it left him with a gnawing sense of unease. Anakin's behavior had been... odd. Unsettling, even.
But that was a concern for another time. For now, Obi-Wan had a different destination in mind: Dex's Diner.
The familiar neon sign flickered as Obi-Wan entered, the hum of conversation and clinking dishes filling the air. But as he approached the counter, his steps faltered. Behind it stood an unfamiliar figure, wiping down a glass with practiced indifference.
"Excuse me," Obi-Wan began, his voice carrying the polite authority he often used. "I'm looking for Dexter Jettster."
The man behind the counter looked up, his expression neutral. "Dexter? Haven't heard that name in a while. He disappeared some time back. Diner got seized, resold. I'm the new owner."
The words hit Obi-Wan like a physical blow, though he kept his composure. "Disappeared?" he repeated, his tone quieter now.
"Yeah," the man said with a shrug. "No family claimed the place, so it went back to the city. Sorry I can't be more help."
Obi-Wan nodded, offering a polite thanks before turning to leave. His heart felt heavy as he stepped back into the Coruscant evening. The truth was clear: Dexter was gone, likely another casualty of the shadows he had dared to investigate.
As Obi-Wan made his way to the Senate Complex for his next deployment, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed an old friend.
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The bridge of the Excalibur was a hive of activity, the polished durasteel floor gleaming under the cold white lights. Lelouch stood at its center, a pillar of calm amidst the controlled chaos, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched the holographic display of their current checkpoint.
The officer on the other end of the transmission fidgeted nervously under Lelouch's unyielding gaze.
"This is the fifteenth checkpoint," Lelouch said, his tone ice-cold.
"S-Sorry, Commander," the officer stammered, sweat beading on his brow. "All codes check out. You are cleared to proceed."
Lelouch inclined his head slightly, cutting the transmission with a flick of his hand. Beside him, Thorn let out a small, frustrated huff.
"Bless the guy who created emergency deployment protocols, if we had to go through this much paper pushing during a campaign, we'd need two more lifetimes to just reach the frontlines." Thorn muttered as his fingers twitched at his side, itching for action.
"It's a necessary evil," Lelouch replied without turning. "Sovereign powers within the Core are entitled to their own security measures. But rest assured, our patience will be rewarded."
As the ship began its next hyperspace jump, Fordo entered the bridge, his stiff form making its way to Lelouche's side. He gave Lelouch a brief nod, signaling that their sensitive cargo remained undetected. Lelouch returned the nod, his sharp eyes gleaming with approval.
"Navigation, report," Lelouch ordered.
A young officer straightened at his station. "Coordinates clear, sir. No further checkpoints. We're on course for the designated location."
"Proceed," Lelouch commanded.
Before addressing the bridge crew, Lelouch activated the ship's internal comms. His voice, calm and commanding, echoed throughout the Excalibur.
"All personnel, prepare for combat readiness. Report to designated stations and stand by for planetary deployment at a moment's notice. This is not a drill."
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The response was immediate. The hum of the ship shifted as soldiers and officers moved with precision, the sound of boots against metal and the click of weapons being prepped filling the air.
The Excalibur exited hyperspace with a jolt, the vastness of space unfolding before them. But something was immediately amiss. The tactical screens flared with static as interference rippled through their scanners. The planet below, the mission's destination, was flickering on the holomap like a faulty projection.
Lelouch sat in his command chair, hands steepled, eyes narrowing as he studied the erratic display. Around him, the bridge officers were tense but disciplined, the hum of their consoles and clipped commands filling the air.
"Status report," Lelouch ordered, his tone calm but commanding.
"Scanners picking up heavy interference, Commander," the sensor officer, Vector, replied. "Planetary readings are inconsistent—no discernible surface features, mass fluctuating."
"Sir!" another officer, Pyxis, called out from navigation. "We're experiencing an abnormal gravitational pull. The ship is tilting off course!"
The deck beneath them shifted subtly, but enough to make several officers grab onto their consoles for support. The artificial gravity dampeners held steady, preventing outright chaos, but the pressure was unmistakable as the Venator began to list sideways, inexorably pulled toward the planet.
"Helm, full repulsors!" Lelouch commanded sharply, his voice cutting through the rising tension. "Redirect our trajectory. Main engines to maximum thrust—put distance between us and the planet immediately!"
"Yes, Commander!" the helmsman, Crosswind, acknowledged, his fingers flying over the controls. "Engaging repulsors—full power!"
"Tactical, launch all fighters," Lelouch continued without pause, his tone cold and precise.
"Roger that!" Overwatch, the tactical officer, barked into his commlink. "All squadrons, emergency launch! Use every hangar. Priority one is recon; priority two is defense. Move!"
The ship groaned as the engines strained against the gravitational pull. Outside, the Venator's hangar doors yawned open, fighters flooding into the void. From the side hangars and the dorsal bay, ARC-170s and V-wings poured into space, their pilots moving with the efficiency drilled into them through years of training.
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The Venator's hangars came alive with activity. Klaxons blared, and red warning lights cast long shadows across the bay as pilots sprinted to their ships. Clone troopers worked with the precision of a well-oiled machine, their movements honed by years of war.
The dorsal hangar doors opened first, the vacuum of space contained by energy fields. ARC-170 fighters, their pilots already strapped in and running through pre-flight checks, rolled into position and roared into the void. From the side hangars, V-wings followed in tight formation, their engines leaving faint streaks of blue light.
"Blue Leader to Excalibur," came the crisp voice of one squadron leader. "We're deployed and holding formation. No gravitational anomalies affecting us so far."
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"We're still being pulled!" Crosswind shouted as he struggled with the controls.
"Hold the course!" Lelouch barked, gripping the armrests of his chair. His violet eyes were cold, calculating. "Tactical, status on the fighters?"
"Negative gravitational anomalies," Overwatch reported, his voice tight. "Fighters are unaffected—they're maintaining formation."
"Sir!" Captain Thorn's voice cut through the noise. The veteran clone had his rotary cannon slung over his shoulder, his expression grim. "Sir," Fordo interrupted, his tone urgent. "Report from the lower decks: the cargo's breached containment. It's lodged in the starboard hull. Crushed one of the guards stationed near it."
Lelouch's mind worked quickly, piecing the puzzle together. "Which section of the hull?"
"Starboard, midsection," Thorn replied, pointing toward the direction they were being pulled.
"Interesting," Lelouch murmured.
Fordo, ever watchful, shifted his stance. "The pull's centered on the cargo."
"Agreed," Lelouch said. 'If it can't tear through the durasteel with this kind of power, then it's not operating on intelligence, maybe instinct. It wants or, rather, it needs the cargo. It feels almost like... hunger.'
A voice, dark and sardonic, echoed in his mind. Tzeentch. 'If it can't pull the ship, it will come to it. It's akin to an animal, nothing more.'
Lelouch stood, his presence commanding. "Helm, full stop."
The bridge officers exchanged glances, but no one questioned the order.
"Full stop, aye!" Crosswind confirmed, throttling the engines down.
"All personnel, battle stations," Lelouch announced over the ship-wide comm. "Prepare for possible boarding or external assault. Tactical teams, secure the bridge and vital systems. Hangar crews, arm yourselves and prepare for deployment. Standby for further orders."
The clones snapped into action, their discipline impeccable. Soldiers rushed to fortified positions in the hangars, some taking cover behind the legs of AT-TE walkers, others setting up E-web blasters near chokepoints. The heavy thud of machinery echoed as AT-APs adjusted their positions, their guns trained on the entrances.
On the bridge, Thorn unslung his rotary cannon, spinning it once with practiced ease as he took position near Lelouch. Behind them, the doors hissed open, and a tactical squad entered, their movements precise as they secured the area. Fordo, silent as ever, rested his hand on the hilt of one of his pistols.
"Commander!" Overwatch called out. "Fighters reporting unidentified objects inbound—requesting permission to engage!"
"Granted," Lelouch said, his voice firm.
Moments later, a pilot's voice crackled over the comm. "This is Blue Leader. Target destroyed, but it wasn't a ship. Looked like... debris?"
"Clarify," Overwatch demanded.
"Debris, sir. Didn't take any evasive action, just barreled straight for us."
"More incoming!" another pilot interjected. "Multiple trajectories!"
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Without hesitation, Lelouch made his decision. "All personnel, evacuate the ship immediately. Use any available craft—make landfall, multiple trips to pick up those stranded. Communication, activate the distress beacon."
The communication officer complied, his hands steady despite the chaos. "Distress beacon active, Commander."
Lelouch activated a private channel, sending a brief transmission. "Prepare for full-scale invasion. Location: Republic distress beacon, Excalibur. Coordinates attached."
The response was chillingly succinct. "Roger, Roger."
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As the clones scrambled for escape pods and vehicles, the ship shuddered violently. Pieces of debris, what looked like remnants of ancient machinery, slammed into the outer hull.
"Sir!" the communication officer called out. "The ring—it's tearing itself apart and heading for us. We need to evacuate before larger fragments hit!"
Lelouch nodded, leading Thorn and Fordo toward a waiting LAAT. Soldiers clung to AT-TEs and AT-RTs as they were loaded into transports, the hangar a controlled storm of activity
"Sir!" the communication officer called out, his voice trembling. "The ring—it's breaking apart. Large fragments are inbound. We have to move!"
Lelouch stood, his expression unreadable. "All remaining personnel, evacuate now."
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The Excalibur groaned under the strain as smaller debris began pelting its hull. In the hangars, chaos reigned, though it was the disciplined chaos of seasoned soldiers.
"Load up!" barked Sergeant Slate, standing at the foot of an AT-TE walker. Troopers clambered onto the walker's hull, securing themselves with magnetic clamps. "If it moves, you ride it! No exceptions!"
"Sir, the vehicles aren't designed for this!" a junior officer protested.
"Neither are they designed to be crushed inside a warship!" Slate snapped. "NOW MOVE!"
Inside the AT-TE, the crew worked furiously to recalibrate its systems for vacuum operation. Troopers packed into escape pods, some cramming into vehicles like AT-RTs, holding on to whatever they could find.
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In the hangar, the last LAATs lifted off, packed to the brim with soldiers and equipment. Outside, the fighters swarmed, trying to intercept the incoming debris.
"Blue Leader to Excalibur. Confirming large fragment incoming—unable to intercept! It's—" The transmission cut off as a massive chunk of the ring smashed into the Excalibur's engines. Smaller debris followed, ripping through the hull like shrapnel.
Just as the LAAT lifted off, a massive chunk of the ring's debris smashed through the Excalibur's engines. Smaller fragments followed, shredding the remaining hull. The mighty Venator crumpled, its lights flickering out as it was consumed by the onslaught.
From the cockpit of the LAAT, Thorn watched the destruction, his grip tightening on his cannon. "That wasn't even a large piece," he muttered. "And it was nearly the size of the ship."
'I liked that ship.' Lelouch commented in his mind as Tzeentch merely laughed.
'It's much more interesting to watch what is going to happen. Isn't it exciting, something is happening and we have no idea of the result. You could have saved that ship, but just like me... you're curious.'
A.N: Feel a little conflicted with Palpatine's character, true he only cares for himself, but he was also visibly shocked and seemed kind of sad when he found Anakin in Mustafar. I guess its the possible potential that Vader lost, being now unable ot become what Sidious dreamed he would be, while Lelouch had been raised by him personally and is basically a younger version of himself, just more powerful. I can see it in the prequel Sidious but not in the Sequel... though i guesss it is a lot of years in between so its possibly Sidious just came to a decision, making his mind that Vader could only be a tool at most by that point and no longer qualified to be a successor. Its a slippery slope either way. Hope you enjoyed it :)