Amedda adopted a narrow-eyed expression of exasperation and withdrew, leaving Tarkin and Vader facing each other. If Vader was at all affected by the Chagrian’s words, he showed no evidence of it, in either his bearing or the rich bass of his voice.
“We haven’t stood together on Coruscant in some time, Governor.”
Tarkin lifted his gaze past Vader’s transpirator-control chest plate and grilled muzzle to the unreadable midnight orbs of his mask. “The needs of the Empire keep us elsewhere occupied, Lord Vader.”
“Just so.”
Tarkin directed a glance at the exiting stormtroopers. “I am curious about Prefect Soot.”
Vader crossed his thick arms across the illuminated indicators of the chest plate. “A pity. Tasked with controlling crime in his sector, he succumbed to temptation by hiring himself out to the Droid Gotra.”
“Well, clearly his heart wasn’t in it,” Tarkin said. “Strange, though, that the Crymorah crime syndicate had no representation in your audience.”
Vader looked down at him — blankly? Perturbed?
“We have reached an accommodation with the Crymorah,” Vader said.
Tarkin waited for more, but Vader had nothing to add, so Tarkin dropped the matter and they set out for the turbolifts together, with Amedda and his retinue of Royal Guards trailing behind.
Nothing about Vader seemed natural — not his towering height, his deep voice, his antiquated diction — yet despite those qualities and the mask and respirator, Tarkin believed him to be more man than machine. Although he had clearly twisted the powers of the Force to his own dark purposes, Vader’s innate strength was undeniable. His contained rage was genuine, as well, and not simply the result of some murderous cyberprogram. But the quality that made him most human was the fierce dedication he demonstrated to the Emperor.
It was that genuflecting obedience, the steadfast devotion to execute whatever task the Emperor assigned, that had given rise to so many rumors about Vader: that he was a counterpart to the Confederacy’s General Grievous the Emperor had been holding in reserve; that he was an augmented human or near-human who had been trained or had trained himself in the ancient dark arts of the Sith; that he was nothing more than a monster fashioned in some clandestine laboratory. Many believed that the Emperor’s willingness to grant so much authority to such a being heralded the shape of things to come, for it was beyond dispute that Vader was the Empire’s first terror weapon.
Tarkin didn’t always agree with Vader’s methods for dealing with those who opposed the Empire, but he held the Dark Lord in high esteem, and he hoped Vader felt the same toward him. Very early on in their partnership — soon after both had been introduced to the secret mobile battle station — Tarkin grew convinced that Vader knew him much better than he let on, and that behind the bulging lenses of his face mask, whatever remained of Vader’s human eyes regarded him with clear recognition. More than anything else it was those initial feelings that had provided Tarkin with his first suspicion as to Vader’s identity. Later, observing the rapport the Dark Lord shared with the stormtroopers who supported him, and the technique he displayed in wielding his crimson lightsaber, Tarkin grew more and more convinced that his suspicions were right.
Vader might very well be Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, whom Tarkin had fought beside during the Clone Wars, and for whom he had developed a grudging appreciation.
“How is life on the Sentinel moon, Governor?” Vader asked as they walked.
“In a week we’ll be back on the bright side of the gas giant, where security is improved.”
“Is that the reason you were opposed to coming to Coruscant?”
Vader shouldn’t have known as much, but Tarkin wasn’t surprised that he did. “Tell me, Lord Vader, does the vizier always share confidences with you?”
“When I ask him to, yes.”
“Then he should have qualified his statement. I may have been reluctant to leave my post, but I wasn’t opposed to doing so.”
“Certainly not when you learned that the request originated with the Emperor.”
Tarkin smirked. “Why not simply call it an order, then?”
“It is unimportant. I might have done the same.”
Tarkin looked at Vader askance, but said nothing.
“Will your absence affect the construction schedule?”
“Not at all,” Tarkin was quick to say. “Components for the hyperdrive generator will be shipping on schedule from Desolation Station, where initial tests have been completed. Work continues on the navigational matrix itself, as well as on the hypermatter reactor. At this point I’m not unduly concerned about the status of the sublight engines or shield generators.”
“And the weapons systems?”
“That’s a bit more complicated. Our chief designers have yet to reach an agreement about the laser array, and whether or not it should be a proton beam. The designers are also debating the optimum configuration for the kyber crystal assembly. The delays owe as much to their bickering as to production setbacks.”
“That will not do.”
Tarkin nodded. “Frankly, Lord Vader, there are simply too many voices weighing in.”
“Then we need to remedy the situation.”
“As I’ve been proposing all along.”
They fell silent as they entered a turbolift that accessed the Palace’s primary spire, leaving Amedda and the Royal Guards no choice but to wait for a different car. The silence lingered as they began to ascend through the levels. Vader brought the lift to a halt one level below the summit and exited. When Tarkin started to follow, Vader raised a hand to stop him.
“The Emperor expects you above,” he said.
• • •
The turbolift carried him to the top of the world. He stepped from the car into a large circular space with a perimeter of soaring windows that provided a view for hundreds of kilometers in every direction. A curved partition defined a separate space that Tarkin assumed was the Emperor’s personal quarters. Prominent in the main area was a large table surrounded by oversized chairs, one of them with a high back and control panels set into the armrests. Alone, Tarkin wandered about admiring artworks and statues positioned to catch the light of Coruscant’s rising or setting sun, some of which he recognized as having been moved from the Supreme Chancellor’s suite in the Executive Building, in particular a bas-relief panel depicting an ancient battle scene. A circular balcony above the main level contained case after lofty case of texts and storage devices.
The Emperor emerged from his quarters as Tarkin was regarding a slender bronzium statue. Dressed in his customary black-patterned robes, with the cowl raised over his head, he moved as if hovering across the reflective floor.
“Welcome, Governor Tarkin,” he said in a voice that many thought sinister but to Tarkin sounded merely strained.
“My lord,” he said, bowing slightly. Gesturing broadly, he added: “I like what you’ve done with the place.” When the Emperor didn’t respond, Tarkin indicated the bronzium statue of a cloaked figure. “If memory serves, this was in your former office.”
The Emperor laid a wrinkled, sallow hand on the piece. “Sistros, one of the four ancient philosophers of Dwartii. I keep it for sentimental value.” He gestured broadly. “Some of the rest, well, one might call the collection the spoils of war.” His glance returned to Tarkin. “But come, sit, Governor Tarkin. We have much to discuss.”
The Emperor lowered himself into the armchair and swiveled away from the window-wall so that his ghastly face was in shadow. Tarkin took the chair opposite and crossed his hands in his lap.
As Nils Tenant had reaffirmed, there were as many rumors circulating about the Emperor as there were about Darth Vader. The fact that he rarely appeared in public or even at Senate proceedings had convinced many that the Jedi attack on him had resulted not only in the ruination of his face and body, but also in the death of the sanguine politician he had been before the war, betrayed by those who had served him and had supported the Republic for centuries. Some Coruscanti even confessed to having fond memories for ex-chancellor Finis Valorum, about whom they could gossip to no end. They yearned to see the Emperor strolling through Imperial Plaza or attending an opera or officiating at the groundbreaking of a new building complex.