You misunderstand. Once enamored with the vision for change, whether political or otherwise, there will always be a reason to want power. If you tell yourself differently, then you lie to yourself.
There are many things in the dark that none can see, much less comprehend. But what many fail to understand is that those in the light pose a greater threat than what is shrouded in darkness.
The lines between good and evil are invisible. Much good has been done at the hands of evil, and much evil done by those who claim themselves to be good.
The universe is more complex than that. Thousands who claimed to be the wiser said it was a cycle.
This was no cycle. This was simply the nature of the living beings who inhabit its space. They will follow their base instincts, their emotions, their ambitions, no matter what.
Change is always at a turn. No matter how long it takes, change will always take its course.
---
16 BBY
Outer Rim
Helm Sector
23rd Week of Deployment
Menno's Quarters
Meditation could be one of the most fulfilling disciplines a Force-sensitive could practice.
It was reassurance, it cleared ones mind , it made thinking and visions clearer.
The Emperor himself did not sleep. Instead, he placed himself in a suspended state, meditating rather than surrendering to unconsciousness. In this way he remained aware of what was happening around him at all times.
It was a precaution..against assassins, against rivals, against those who might wish to kill him, as he had once killed Darth Plagueis, his own master.
But now, thinking back on all we had done since our inception, all we had seen… the good and the bad alike…
What I would achieve for myself remained clear. The goal of galactic domination was still intact, and I was still laying the stones toward it.
Little by little. Brick by brick.
Far from the eyes of those I did not wish to see.
My friends were with me. I hoped they would keep to the agreement we had made. It was in their best interests. Promotions could take time, especially for those without political or military backing.
But I was not of that kind.
I had made ties with whoever I could, whenever I could. Over the past few months on duty, I had played a key role as the ship's ambassador and, at times, its diplomat. Captain Milhorn hated social gatherings, I had soon come to find out. He abstained from them unless absolutely necessary. When they could not be avoided, he would send me or Junior Lieutenant Dile.
Dile was smart enough. He understood what such gatherings could do for one's career.
We spoke to influential individuals. We networked. We connected. At times we provided advice or resolutions, all while maintaining contact should our help be needed again.
I myself had become implicit in both legal and illegal connections. My investments in Karak Mining—my first large-scale venture, and perhaps my last for the rest of the year—were proof of that. Hopefully Maverick would come through. My faith was in him and in the company.
Sigh.
Sometimes the urge to torment something was so strong I had trouble keeping it under control. It was exhausting, pretending every day—pretending to be fair, restrained, modest.
No wonder Palpatine looked the way he did. The lies and the dark side had twisted him into something grotesque.
I inhaled slowly, drawing the Force inward, letting it coil around me like a snake. Control. That was the lesson.
"Power meant nothing without control." Words from the Emperor himself when he tortured him with force lightning.
"Tch!"
He hated remembering those days. Palpatine should suffer for this.
And he will but it wouldn't be by his hands. But nevertheless it was good enough for him.
Changing thoughts, I pictured the faces from the last reception on Varnis Station, wealthy merchants with jeweled fingers, governors perfumed and smiling, Imperial officers who laughed too loudly at jokes that were not funny. They saw a rising young officer, reliable, charming, useful and a core world native the bridge into the heart of the empire itself.
People underestimate the wonders of location. The level of treatment one could receive when you merely mentioned you were from the core seemed like so kind of far flung dream.
The social structure was unfair. But so was life overall.
But amidst smiles and lies, they did not see the arithmetic behind my eyes.
What they called friendship was leverage. What they called trust was access. Every handshake was another stone laid, another quiet corridor opening toward the future I intended to build.
I rose from the meditation mat and crossed the room. My small narrow transparisteel viewport showed only the bruised swirl of hyperspace, color folding into color without meaning. Somewhere beyond it lay systems that would burn, leaders who would bend, opportunities that would present themselves.
And I would be ready.
My comlink blinked on the desk, a soft amber pulse requesting attention. I let it wait for a moment longer.
I keyed the device on.
"Menno," came Dile's voice, coined with restrained excitement. "We've received new orders from sector command. Looks like command wants diplomatic representation planetside when we revert ."
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