The Spider and the Storm

"Hmm." Thalassa lingered by the stairs. "He really ought to have a bodyguard..." Her thoughts betrayed her worry; despite her dislike of her husband, there remained a sliver of love--there had been good years, after all, and he had been at her side when Garoche was preparing to be born. It counted for something in her mind. "I'll speak with him when he returns. And you..." She paused. "I think I'll be fine here. You're free to wander for a little, if you like, but I would advise against going near the Imperial palace. Stick to shopping districts if you'll be on the upper levels. Or stay here. Whatever you wish; I'll need you to accompany me somewhere later."

He nodded. "What time?"

She checked her chrono. "It's 1 now, so let's reconvene around 5."

"I will be there." He stepped away to move his things to the lower quarters.

Thalassa headed back upstairs.

Spoiler

Does Sirejj wanna scout around for Garoche or would you like to shift the scene to the Imperial Palace?

The Emperor's audience chamber was located at the second-highest level of the Imperial Palace's--formerly the Jedi Temple's--tallest spire. It was truly enormous, dwarfing its occupants and forcing them to crane their necks to look up at the throne perched on the podium above, but today it stood empty. Today, there was little need for formality.

"I do not understand why I have been asked to record this 'social call,' Your Majesty," 11-4D protested, shifting restlessly where it stood by Palpatine's side. "I am useful in many more ways, countless ways beyond that of a standard recording device."

"Am I to understand your pride has been injured, 4D?" The Emperor's voice crackled out from under his hood, and the protocol droid balked.

"No, Your Majesty."

"Then do as I say."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The quarters Emperor Palpatine and his droid servant were in were in fact located above the audience chamber in a wide rotunda accented by a large table and chairs at its center. This had been the Jedi Council's meeting room before the end; now its windows were flanked by statues from his old office. Slender and severe, they complemented the old architecture in a surprising way. Palpatine supposed that was the influence of the Sith shrine below working its will on the builders of this egotistical display of the Light Side's prior sway over the galaxy. No more of that, now--he had draped the room in gray and red like his old office and tinted the windows. Any natural light filtering in was made to enter on his terms: weak and dim. The lamps and overhead lights provided ample illumination.

Palpatine swiveled his chair toward the door, closing his eyes as he cast out his feelings to search for his two proteges. They were on their way now, one just minutes ahead of the other. Vader's mind was awash with worry, anger, and distrust; he had brought his concerns to the Emperor just days ago and clearly they had mounted into a fierce preoccupation. Palpatine would have to calm him before the meeting took place. And there was a trace of guilt there, as well, the Jedi's memories coloring Vader's perception of the act he had committed on Atoa. That would have to be set to rights as well.

Palpatine pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. "You would think," he mused to 4D, "that things would have become easier once the girl was out of the picture--not harder."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"He's like rubber," he muttered, and turned his thoughts to the elder of his two disciples. The mind of Tarkin came as a surprise to him; the normally well-oiled machine was in disarray, cogs out of place and springs uncoiled. The Governor had been digging about in his personal archives without meaning to, dredging up memories he ought to have left alone. Palpatine's brow furrowed; Vader had been right. The man was not well. He might not realize it himself, but the discovery of his son's betrayal had left him teetering. That was...concerning. Palpatine needed him sharp and whole for what was to come.

"Go," the Emperor said to 4D. "Into my personal quarters; begin your recording when Vader enters. I will want to review what was said later."

The droid toddled off behind the partition in the corner, and the lift door swished open to admit Palpatine's apprentice.

Vader entered with his cape billowing behind him. As he stepped inside the heavy fabric settled and brushed the ground as his heavy boots made their way across the floor to stand before his master.

His rest had been disturbed by the cluster of thoughts that loomed at the forefront of his mind. He had discussed his concerns with his master not long ago, but it had done little to settle him. The events of the past year -and some far older- had clawed their way from the depths where he'd placed them. They swirled together, memories of recent and of years ago twisting into one singular event that changed each time it crossed his mind. His thoughts had been disturbed, and while he'd found momentary rest in his solitary meditation, it did not last long.

Despite this, none but his master would have known of his inner tumult. He maintained his silent, resolute appearance. His aura smothered the room when he entered, dominating any other life signature aside from his master's. He was the picture of a Sith warlord, dark and powerful as he knelt before the Emperor, awaiting the command to rise.

Palpatine bade him stand with the smallest hand gesture. "You were right to bring this matter to my attention, Apprentice," he said, standing from his chair with a quiet grunt as his knees popped. "Even now I can feel that our friend's mind is ill at ease indeed. Yet you say he bore you no grudge?" Now that was interesting. Not off-brand for Wilhuff, frankly; the man was deeply committed to his ideals and if his son had deviated from them, why should he blame Vader?

"Those are his words, my master, and I can sense no clear lie." Suspecting Tarkin of lying to him felt very wrong, but it had happened at least once before. "Still there is something in his mind that disturbs him." Tarkin was not himself, and Vader's immediate thought that it had to do with Atoa. That was the most reasonable explanation.

"Much of this stems from willful disregard of his own thoughts, I suspect," Palpatine sighed. "He does not understand his own inner workings, Lord Vader, and when something jams the gears he deflects instead of releasing his anger." His head swiveled on his wrinkled neck. "I believe I can remedy this. We simply need to set him back on course before he veers too far down this path."

That seemed to instil in Vader a little confidence. Yes, he was well aware of how improperly dealing with thoughts and emotions led to a disorganized and troubled mind. Tarkin's struggles could have nothing to do with Vader himself. He knew there had been other changes in Tarkin's life these past few years that could also perturb the otherwise solid Grand Moff. That was a more digestible option.
"I concur." Vader said slowly. "I am aware of how far down the wrong path a single step may guide even one as intelligent as Governor Tarkin."

"I know you are." Palpatine turned toward the door; the Governor was in the lift--he'd be here in a matter of seconds. "That he does not blame either of us is good fortune indeed; so long as his anger is directed somewhere productive, he will be of use to us."

---

The door slid open to admit Governor Tarkin not long after the Emperor spoke, and the man strode in with a confidence his mind did not reflect. He looked haggard, even from this distance; his worries had hollowed his cheeks and lightened his hair, and his already deep-set eyes were shadowed. Even so, he held his head high and dipped into a neat bow at the waist once he had entered the room.

"Your Majesty," he said, and his thin voice carried no hint of disarray. To someone without the Force bent to their will he appeared as though he'd merely been wracked with an illness of the physical kind, not psychological.

"Come, Governor Tarkin." Palpatine extended a withered hand and gestured for him to sit. "Let us speak." The turmoil within the Grand Moff was more potent up close; the Emperor didn't need to push hard to dredge up thoughts of his son--hatred and doubt tainted the memories now. The shame was buried deep, but it lurked nonetheless--out of reach for now but ever-present. It stirred now, shifting toward the surface as if the father might apologize for the actions of his son, as if he might bear responsibility for the harm the boy had caused.

But Tarkin did not speak as he sat down in a chair opposite Palpatine; his pale eyes flickered briefly to Vader and he gave a nod of acknoweldgement, then his attention shifted back to the Emperor.

When Tarkin drew nearer, Vader again became unsure of how the Emperor would handle the situation. For as long as he had known Tarkin, he had been steadfast, something Vader had constantly struggled with. Little riled him. He had been a sturdy example of what it meant to be part of this empire. To see him withering away, for any reason, was concerning to him.

He returned the nod slightly. He waited for the Emperor to speak.