You have my full assurance that I will not disband the Senate,” the Emperor told the small audience he had summoned to his new chambers. “Furthermore, I don’t want you to think of yourselves as mere accessories, ratifying legislation and facilitating the business of governing. I will seek your counsel in enacting laws that will serve the growth and integrity of our Empire.”

He fell silent for a moment, then delivered his bombshell.

“The difference now is that when I have taken into account your contributions and those of my advisers, my judgment will be final. There will be no debates, no citations of constitutional precedent, no power of veto, no court proceedings or deferrals. My decrees will be issued simultaneously to our constituent worlds, and they will take effect immediately.”

The Emperor leaned forward in the high-backed chair that was his temporary throne, but not so far forward that his disfigured face was placed in the light.

“Understand this: you no longer represent your homeworlds solely. Coruscant, Alderaan, Chandrila … All these and tens of thousands of worlds far removed from the Core are cells of the Empire, and what affects one, affects us all. No disturbances will be tolerated. Interplanetary squabbles or threats of secession will meet with harsh reprisals. I have not led us through three years of galactic warfare to allow a resurgence of the old ways. The Republic is extinct.”

Bail Organa barely managed to keep from squirming in his chair, as some of the Emperor’s other invited guests were doing—Senators Mon Mothma and Garm Bel Iblis especially, in what almost amounted to overt defiance. But if the Emperor was taking notes, he was doing so without most of his guests being aware of it.

The Emperor’s new chambers—the throne room, for all intents and purposes—occupied an upper floor of Coruscant’s tallest building and, in design, more closely resembled what had been Palpatine’s holding office below the Senate Rotunda than his former quarters in the Senate Office Building.

Divided into two levels by a short but wide staircase, the sanitized room was longer than it was wide, with large permaplas windows surrounding the upper tier. Flanking the burnished staircase were a pair of cup-shaped duty stations, in each of which stood a Red Guard—an Imperial Guard—with the Emperor’s advisers seated behind them. The center of the gleaming dais was occupied by the throne, the back of which arched over Palpatine’s head, placing him in perpetual shadow, as the cowl of his cloak did his sallow and deeply lined face. Recessed into the wide arms of the chair were modest control pads into which his slender fingers would enter occasional input.

The corridors of the Senate were rife with rumors that the Emperor had a second and more private suite, along with some sort of medical facility, in the very crown of the building.

“Your Majesty, if I may,” the human Senator from Commenor said in a suitably deferential tone. “Perhaps you could shed some light on the matter of why the Jedi betrayed us. As you are undoubtedly aware, the HoloNet seems reluctant to provide details.”

Well beyond the need to employ diplomacy or deception to achieve his ends, the Emperor made a derisive sound.

“The Order deserved all that it received for deluding us into believing that they served me in serving you. The complexity of their nefarious plan continues to astound me. Why they didn’t attempt to kill me three years ago is something I will never understand. As if I could have stood against them. If it were not for the recent actions of my guards and our troopers, I would be dead.”

Palpatine’s off-color eyes clouded with hatred.

“In fact, the Jedi believed that they could oversee the galaxy better than we could, and they were willing to perpetuate a war simply to leave us defenseless and susceptible to their treason. Their vaunted Temple was a fort, their base of operations. They came to me with tales of having killed General Grievous—a cyborg, no less—and sought to arrest me because I refused to take them at their word that the fighting was suddenly over, the Separatists defeated.

“When I dispatched a legion of troopers to reason with them, they drew their lightsabers and the battle was met. We have the Grand Army to thank for our victory. Our noble commanders recognized the truth of the Jedi’s treachery, and they executed my commands with vigor. The very fact that they did so, without question, without hesitation, suggests to me that our troopers had some inkling all along that the Jedi were manipulating events.

“After all these weeks, we still lack confirmation that Viceroy Gunray and his powerful allies are dead. That their battle droids and war machines stand motionless on hundreds of worlds we can take as a sign of their surrender. At the same time, however, we must focus our attention on solidifying the Empire world by world.”

Palpatine sat back in his chair.

“The Jedi order is a lesson to us that we cannot permit any agency to become powerful enough to pose a threat to our designs, or to the freedoms we enjoy. That is why it is essential we increase and centralize our military, both to preserve the peace and to protect the Empire against inevitable attempts at insurrection. To that end I have already ordered the production of new classes of capital ships and starfighters, suitable for command by nonclone officers and crew, who themselves will be the product of Imperial academies, made up of candidates drawn from existing star system flight schools.

“No less important, our present army of clone troopers is aging at an accelerated rate, and will need to be supplemented, gradually replaced, by new batches of clones. I suspect that the Jedi had a hand in creating a short-lived army in full confidence that there would be no need for troopers once they had overthrown the Republic and instituted their theocracy based on the Force.

“But that is no longer a concern.

“By bringing the known worlds of the galaxy under one law, one language, the enlightened guidance of one individual, corruption of the sort that plagued the former Republic will never be able to take root, and the regional governors I have installed will prevent the growth of another Separatist movement.”

When everyone in the room was satisfied that Palpatine was finished, the Senator from Rodia said: “Then species other than human need not fear discrimination or partiality?”

Palpatine spread his crooked, long-nailed hands in a placating gesture. “When have I ever shown myself to be intolerant of species differences? Yes, our army is human, I am human, and most of my advisers and military officers are human. But that is merely the result of circumstance.”

“The war continues,” Mon Mothma said to Bail.

Confident that they were beyond the reach of the building’s assortment of eavesdropping devices and far enough from anyone who might be an Internal Security Bureau spy, Bail said: “Palpatine will use his disfigurement to distance himself further from the Senate. We may never get that close to him again.”

Mon Mothma lowered her head in sadness as they continued to walk.

Coruscant was already beginning to adapt to its new title of Imperial Center. Red-patched stormtroopers were more present than they had been at the height of the war, and unfamiliar faces and uniformed personnel crowded the corridors of the building. Military officers, regional governors, security agents … the Emperor’s new minions.

“When I look at that hideous face or survey the damage done to the Rotunda, I can’t help thinking, this is what’s become of the Republic and the Constitution,” Mon Mothma said.

“He maintains he has no plans for disbanding the Senate or punishing the various hive species that supported the Confederacy—” Bail started.

“For the moment,” Mon Mothma interrupted. “Besides, the homeworlds of those species have already been punished. They are disaster areas.”

“He can’t afford to move against anyone just now,” Bail went on. “Too many worlds are still too well armed. Yes, new clone troopers are being grown and new capital ships are coming off the line, but not fast enough for him to risk becoming enmeshed in another war.”

She looked at him skeptically. “You’re very confident all of a sudden, Bail. Or is that circumspection I hear?”

Bail asked himself the same question.

In the throne room, he had tried to puzzle out which among the Emperor’s cabal of advisers, human or otherwise, were aware that Palpatine was a Sith Lord who had manipulated the entire war and eradicated his sworn enemies, the Jedi, as part of a plan to assume absolute power over the galaxy.

Certainly Mas Amedda knew, along with Sate Pestage, and possibly Sly Moore. Bail doubted that Armand Isard or any of Palpatine’s military advisers knew. How would their knowing change things, in any case? To the few beings who knew or cared, the Sith were nothing more than a quasi-religious sect that had disappeared a millennium ago. What mattered was that Palpatine was now Emperor Palpatine, and that he enjoyed the staunch support of most of the Senate and the unwavering allegiance of the Grand Army.

Only Palpatine knew the full story of the war and its abrupt conclusion. But Bail knew a few things that Palpatine didn’t; primarily, that Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala’s twin children had not died with her on the asteroid known as Polis Massa; and that in the twins Jedi Masters Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda were placing their trust for the eventual defeat of the dark side. Even now infant Luke was on Tatooine, in the care of his aunt and uncle, and being watched over by Obi-Wan. And infant Leia—Bail grinned just thinking about her—infant Leia was on Alderaan, probably in the arms of Bail’s wife, Breha.

During Palpatine’s brief abduction by General Grievous, Bail had promised Padmé that should anything untoward happen to her, he would do all he could to protect those close to her. The fact that Padmé was pregnant had been something of an open secret, but at the time Bail had been referring to Anakin, never realizing that events would draw him into a conspiracy with Obi-Wan and Yoda that would end with his assuming custody of Leia.

It had taken only days for Bail and Breha to come to love the child, though initially Bail had worried that they may have been entrusted with too great a challenge. Given their parentage, chances were high that the Skywalker twins would be powerful in the Force. What if Leia should show early signs of following in the dark footsteps of her father? Bail had wondered.

Yoda had eased his mind.

Anakin hadn’t been born to the dark side, but had arrived there because of what he had experienced in his short life, instances of suffering, fear, anger, and hatred. Had Anakin been discovered early enough by the Jedi, those emotional states would never have surfaced. More important, Yoda appeared to have had a change of heart regarding the Temple as providing the best crucible for Force-sensitive beings. The steadfast embrace of a loving family would prove as good, if not better.

But the adoption of Leia was only one of Bail’s concerns.

For weeks following Palpatine’s decree that the Republic would henceforth be an Empire, he had been concerned for his—indeed, Alderaan’s—safety. His name was prominent on the Petition of the Two Thousand, which had called for Palpatine to abrogate some of the emergency powers the Senate had granted him. Worse, Bail had been the first to arrive at the Jedi Temple after the slaughter there; and he had rescued Yoda from the Senate following the Jedi Master’s fierce battle with Sidious in the Rotunda.

Holocams at the Temple or in the former Republic Plaza might easily have captured his speeder, and those images could have found their way to Palpatine or his security advisers. Word might have leaked that Bail was the person who had arranged for Padmé to be delivered to Naboo for the funeral. If Palpatine had been apprised of that fact, he might begin to wonder if Obi-Wan, having carried Padmé from distant Mustafar, had informed Bail about Palpatine’s secret identity, or about the horrors committed on Coruscant by Anakin, renamed Darth Vader by the Sith Lord, whom Obi-Wan had left for dead on the volcanic world.

And then Palpatine might begin to wonder if Padmé’s child, or children, had in fact died with her …

Bail and Mon Mothma hadn’t seen each other since Padmé’s funeral, and Mon Mothma knew nothing of the role Bail had played in the final days of the war. However, she had heard that Bail and Breha had adopted a baby girl, and was eager to meet baby Leia.

The problem was, Mon Mothma was also eager to continue efforts to undermine Palpatine.

“There’s talk in the Senate about building a palace to house Palpatine, his advisers, and the Imperial Guard,” she said as they were nearing one of the repulsorlift landing platforms attached to what had become Palpatine’s building.

Bail had heard the talk. “And statues,” he said.

“Bail, the fact that Palpatine doesn’t have full faith in his New Order makes him all the more dangerous.” She came to a sudden halt when they reached the walkway to the landing platform and turned to him. “Every signatory of the Petition of the Two Thousand is suspect. Do you know that Fang Zar has fled Coruscant?”

“I do,” Bail said, just managing to hold Mon Mothma’s gaze.

“Clone army or no, Bail, I’m not going to abandon the fight. We have to act while we still can—while Sern Prime, Enisca, Kashyyyk, and other worlds are prepared to join us.”

Bail worked his jaw. “It’s too soon to act. We have to bide our time,” he said, repeating what Padmé had told him in the Senate Rotunda on the day of Palpatine’s historical announcement. “We have to place our trust in the future, and in the Force.”

Mon Mothma adopted a skeptical look. “Right now there are members of the military who will side with us, who know that the Jedi never betrayed the Republic.”

“What counts is that the clone troopers believe that the Jedi did betray the Republic,” Bail said; then he lowered his voice to add: “We risk everything by placing ourselves in Palpatine’s sights just now.”

He kept to himself his concerns for Leia.

Mon Mothma didn’t say another word until they stepped onto the landing platform, where stormtroopers and a tall, startling figure in black were striding down the boarding ramp of a Theta-class shuttle that had just set down.

“Some Jedi must have survived the execution order,” Mon Mothma said at last.

For reasons he couldn’t fully understand, Bail’s attention was riveted on the masked figure, who appeared to be in command of the clones, and who also appeared to glance with clear purpose in Bail’s direction. The group passed close enough to Bail for him to hear one of the stormtroopers say: “The Emperor is waiting for you in the facility, Lord Vader.”

Bail felt as if someone had let the air out of him.

His legs began to shake and he grabbed hold of the platform railing for support, somehow managing to keep apprehension from his voice when he said to Mon Mothma: “You’re right. Some Jedi did survive.”