She frowned at this, her eyes rising to her master.
"Do you not sense it?" His tone was, as ever, half challenge and half disappointment.
"I know he's a Jedi," she said.
He laughed, amused at her dismissive air. "No, child; he's more than that. All things bow to the power of the Force."
She waited, intensely curious now, knowing he would sense this, and tell her what he saw fit.
"His line is to the Jedi as you are to an ape, my dear. They are the next evolutionary leap, compelled into being by direct intervention of the Force, connection beyond all that the Jedi envisioned. I'm surprised Kenobi taught him...he must have been truly desperate."
Mara glanced at the slight man, bruised and bloody, reassessing her view of him in respect of her masters, eyes narrowing in consideration.
.
.
Palpatine smiled at her ready acceptance, eager anticipation tingeing his words with dark intent. "I have a formidable task before me, I feel."
He had forgotten the thrill of facing a worthy adversary; a genuine, unpredictable threat. The command of his Empire paled by comparison. Unable to resist, he reached out intending to rest trembling fingers against the boy's temples, the action bringing a stray memory unbidden to his mind--of the boy's father; of finding him burned and mutilated on Mustafar.
He had reached out then to check that his new apprentice would live, in more ways than one. If Anakin's connection to the Force had been too badly diminished by his injuries...well then, what use would he have been to Palpatine? He would have simply walked away; left the boy to burn. He had clearly failed to defeat the Jedi who had gone after him; if his connection to the Force had also been substantially severed, as was oftentimes the case in such extreme injuries, then his usefulness would have been at an end.
But it had not been the case. Much had been lost, but Anakin's connection had always been intense, so that he still held more power than any Jedi. And now he had a reason to hate. Now Anakin and Palpatine's aims were the same, though for different reasons; the destruction of the Jedi. Kenobi's act had bound Anakin to him more finally than anything Palpatine could have done. His inability to finish what he had begun, whether from the compassionate weakness of a friend or some instant of vindictive hatred fuelled by betrayal, had given Palpatine the greatest tool he had ever possessed. And he had used it without compunction.
And now, incredibly, Kenobi's actions had brought an even greater instrument to Palpatine's attention. A line he had thought irrevocably broken was reinstated, an opportunity long-lost suddenly within his grasp again.
Palpatine hesitated, a new consideration presenting itself; did Vader know? Did he see his successor in his son?
Did he realize that in his need to reclaim that which he saw as his, Vader had created the potential for Palpatine to reach it; the weakness which would enable him to breach the boy's resolute defenses? Did he recognize that Palpatine would sacrifice Vader to gain Skywalker just as willingly as he had once sacrificed Dooku to gain Vader?
If so, then he said nothing, obedient to the end. Would his son be as tractable, as malleable?
Hand resting on the boy's forehead, Palpatine reached out with the Force to touch this locus of power--
and was thrown back, mentally and physically, as if touching a live wire, the unconscious boy wrenching away from him.
Mara moved quickly round to her Emperor, though he had not lose his footing entirely, so gestured her away, grinning as he stepped back, resting his hand again on his Jedi's forehead, this time leaning all of his mental abilities into subduing the youth.
Eyelids flickering, it resisted momentarily, but in its drugged state this was no cognitive defense, only subconscious instinct--opposing aspects of the Force too dissimilar to maintain contact, like oil on water--and under Palpatine's concerted effort, this was subdued and the boy slowed and stilled again.
But how wonderful that it would fight him even now, without hope of victory, like a reflex action. Would it struggle when he came to break it? Would it rail against him? Did it understand how pointless that would be?
Did it know that it would lose that battle too?
Had they told it that the more it fought, the closer to the Darkness it would edge, because it could only fight fire with fire, and the fire that gave heat would also burn?
When the boy finally settled slack, Palpatine released his hold, long fingers trailing across the grazed skin of its cheek.
Would he yet have to kill it?
What a waste... If he did, he would ensure that it had a worthy death. A blaze of glory--a fitting end for the last Jedi.
The slightest touch of a smile lifted the corners of his lips at the realization; remembrance of earlier musings. Because something could be salvaged, even then.
.
.
.
.
.
The door to the detention cell slid open and Leia scrabbled upright in reaction, face already composed into a meaty scowl for whoever entered.
Two Imperial officers did so, completely unimpressed. "Up. You're to come with us," the older man said, already turning away again.
"Where are the people I arrived with?" Leia said, remaining where she was.
"I have no idea--I wasn't sent for them," he said, cold, disinterested expression changing not a whit.
"I'm not going anywhere until I know where they are." She kept her voice firm, resolute in this; if they wanted her to move, they were going to have to carry her. And just let them get close enough to try that...
The officer sighed boredly and glanced momentarily at his companion. "The Commander said you'd be awkward. He said you'd change your tune if we were to tell you where you were going."
Leia arched perfect eyebrows in doubting query.
"The injured man who arrived on the shuttle...that's who you're being taken to."
Injured?...did they mean...
"Luke?" Leia stood, anxious hope replacing stubbornness. "Where is he?"
"In his apartments. I'm ordered to take you there."
In the anticipation of the moment the oddness of that passed by unnoticed, and Leia setting forward, willing to comply for the opportunity to see Luke.
Stormtroopers and guards eyed her with cold disinterest as she exited from the turbolift to be walked the short distance to a second checkpoint between the Detention Centre and Palace above, permissions closely checked and confirmed before they were nodded onwards.
Then she was up in the Palace, four stormtroopers accompanying the two officers as they walked along empty walkways obviously restricted to military personnel but open to one of the cavernous internal spaces of the main Palace, everything there exactly as she remembered from her infrequent visits with her father. Level upon level of military bureaucracy bustled with its own overblown sense of importance, blind to the anguish it caused to the daily lives of ordinary people--or worse, uncaring, aware that they were imbued with the power to overwhelm any resistance, great or small.
She had always hated it here, in this house of mirrors and manipulations. Long before she'd known anything of the resistance or Palpatine or her father's covert political views, she had always hated it here.
She passed through all this self-serving wealth and outrageous opulence without a sideways glance, feeling gratefully out of place.
They traveled for a long time before they reached the apex level of the Main Palace, which housed the vast six story high hall with its grand marble and wrought-metal staircases which swept graciously, curve upon curve, to the heavily-guarded bottleneck of the Tower entry. The cavernous space of the high, pillared and vaulted Crossways linked the more public parts of the palace to the elite Habitation Towers above, the change marked not just in scale and opulence, but more subtly in the numerous guards, who changed at this point from the white of general stormtroopers to the royal blue of Palace livery, then finally, in Court itself, to the deep scarlet of the Royal Guard.