Children of the Emperor

Jedi Master Hallok sat on a stool smiling, as infants were passed to her arms for a moment, cradled for another, and in a few breaths passed onto one of her two padawans. They were all so innocent, promising of so much potential in life. No more than a year old, every single baby she would see that day was an orphan. It was disheartening to know that so many children could be parentless but the war between the Seperatists and the Republic was only escalating. Master Hallok had faith in the Force though and in the heroes of the Republic, beacons of light in the blight of times. But her job was just as important. She was one of the Jedi that would detect the gift in children and determine whether or not they would have the oppurtunity to serve their life as they were meant to, as Jedi, with the Force.

"Master, do you need anything? A drink, or even a break? You have been working for hours now, Master."

The old woman turned and smiled to the voice of her eldest padawan, nearly a knight, Zerxes was a grown man and maybe a tad too over protective at times of his ancient Master.

"I might be blind, boy, but I've nothing to fear of these darlings and they don't weigh enough to make these old limbs creak with weariness. But if you strain my ears too much with your worrying, you'll get to me before they do."

"Yes Master."

Hallok was indeed blind but it seemed to serve her purpose well. She could sense the Force's ability and potential in others clearly, using the Force as her vision and her trusted sense above all else. Hallok couldn't hear that well for that matter by herself either. At times she would joke that the Force was the only thing keeping her moving. Zerxes at times would even believe it.

"You have a question, Cyan?"

Cyan was her second padawan, a quiet young zabrak who said little but spoke well and effectively when he did. Hallok always had a vague idea of what was on Cyan's mind, he kept himself organized and under control at all times, always trying to maintain the mental discipline of a Jedi. Commendable in his efforts, the zabrak was still quite predictable in his youth.

"Yes Master... I was wondering... why are we taking and marking the children that register but that you know don't have... what it takes?"

"Insightful, Cyan, but be sure to be mindful that everything serves the Force, from mindless matter to Master Yoda. The government authorized that we mark children that might even seem promising in hope that we might find something that links to the decreasing number of force adepts.

The Republic assured the Council that the Chancellor was only interested in restoring what has been lost after all this time, what with the war and all. The Republic is running tests on the orphans we mark and giving grants to the orphanages in exchange. It helps in matters of cooperation, of course, Cyan. Now hand me that next darling, won't you?"

The zabrak reached for the next baby and handed it gently to the old woman. She rocked the quiet baby for a moment and tilted her head, as if in contemplation.

"Is there a problem, Master?"

Zerxes noticed with concern the troubled look taken upon Hallok's old face as she rocked the baby slowly.

"No, nothing at all."

She wouldn't tell her padawan that the Force seemed so distant, getting farther and farther away each time she reached out to it. As if she really were blind, some blackness always seemed to interpose itself between her and the light that was the Force on the other side. She tried to let it in, to let the Force fill her, but she seemed to only taste that blackness there. And this child, unlike others, seemed so distant, that she assumed the child was in the Force, on the other side of the darkness. No innocent child would actually be of that blackness.

"Mark this one, Zerxes."

"Yes, Master. Orphan Y'roth, marked for force sensitivity, no innate talent."

Jedi Knight Cyan walked slowly down the pristine white corridor, following two doctors and with six clone troopers behind him. It had been two years since Jedi Master Hallok had passed and become one with the Force, and Cyan had been promoted to Knight shortly thereafter. He didn't feel like a Jedi Knight though, the Council had only insisted that, Cyan, was convinced because of the recent losses in the Jedi numbers.

Before Hallok had moved on, she had started to lose herself, Cyan thought, because she had begun to mumble in her meditation. Cyan's zabrak hearing wasn't anything extraordinary but she had murmured something all too often about the "Blackness". The young Jedi Knight was all too familiar with that now, he had opened himself to the Force so much more than he used to. But after Geonosis, things had only gotten worse. Cyan knew that Blackness of which she had spoken now. It encroached upon him in his sleep like a nightmare, in his meditations like a fog, and during the waking day like an anxiety that struck him at the core of his passion to serve in the Force. It shook his very faith in Hope. If she could've seen how things were starting to play out. He was afraid Hallok would've been even further disheartened by the current state of things and the Republic itself.

Cyan had become interested in the Republic's newest Child Development center, where, through much tribulation, Cyan had been able to trace all those children that had been marked by Hallok and other 'sensors' nearly four years ago. He had never properly understood what was intended to happen with the children, accepting Master Hallok's explanation merely as her informing him only what she knew and nothing more. Cyan was often reprimanded for his impatience in learning the inner workings of many things but now that he was a knight and the Order was stretched as thin as it was, the liberty to pursue his impatience was less restrained.

"All the children are the same age, doctor?"

"Yes, yes, all nearly within the same year."

"Why?"

"You'd have to speak with our project director, Dr. Rommelisch."

"And who sponsors this project within the Republic?"

"From the Office of the Chancellor, Governor Tarkin is their representative and overlooks the proceedings with Dr. Rommelisch."

Tarkin, also the commander Republic Outlands Regions Security Force, was little more than a murmur of being a strong supporter of Palpatine in the circles of the Jedi. Cyan hadn't been paying enough attention to the higher ranking politics to know any more than that. He almost wished he had the time for it, almost. Politics were something he’d much rather leave in the hands of the Council.

Something was wrong though. Here. Or maybe elsewhere. Cyan could feel it, a creeping suspicion that had spurned him on this journey ever since his questions had gone unsatisfied when this project had first begun. These men said they were giving these children a chance at a life that would’ve never been possible for them and while doing so, aiding so many others in the future. Cyan wondered what was wrong with their lives, originally? Yes, being an orphan would be a hard life but it was still a life and they had just as much of a chance to take whatever path they so chose. Now, they were institutionalized, and had very little choice at all. Cyan sympathized with them to a degree.

“And here, Sir, you can see the children interacting with one another. They are kept to a routine in order to implement controls that we might be able to regulate any problems easier.”

“Who are those men in there with them?”

Cyan could see maybe three of four men inside the room that wore no uniform of any sort and appeared to be anything but child healthcare specialists. One of them had a sizable amount of scars on one side of his face and another was missing an arm completely.

“Those are instructors, handpicked by Dr. Rommelisch. We have determined that by implementing organic as well as automated instructors, the children can become accustomed to both types of authority figures as well as develop multiple learning styles.”

“I see.”

The children were scattered throughout the room, grouped together here and there, talking and playing with each other. Some were watching holovids designed to be educational for small children. Others sat around one or two of the instructors, simply listening. The innocence permeated by the children was comforting to the Jedi Knight. They were the future and regardless of their given circumstances, Cyan hoped that each and every one of them chose to help one another and everyone else through the hard times to come. Cyan noticed one group however that was huddled around two other children. One of the instructors stood nearby. Cyan felt a tug on the sleeve of his robes.

“Shall we continue on, Sir?”

“Yes, yes.”

The sudden wail was almost enough to make Cyan think they were under an attack. The Jedi felt a pang in his stomach, one that was all too familiar with the memory of Master Hallok so close to the surface. Someone had just died, but, upon orienting himself, Cyan determined that the wail was actually a collective noise of children crying. The Zabrak quickly turned on his heel to see what had occurred.

In that small huddle of children now stood only one child, who was actually still in the act of stomping on the crushed in face of the other child. To Cyan’s dismay, the instructor, grizzly and stoic, was just standing there watching. The other children were crying but not necessarily because of what was happening. None of them were in panic or running in fear.

Cyan made the connection quickly enough. All of the children were force sensitive, and having spent so much time together, they shared bonds most likely. Cyan related it much like to being a youngling, although these children were not so much aware of it and had little understanding of it. But they probably had felt that sharp pang just as the Jedi had.

Cyan, righteous anger swelling up at the sudden murder of that other child, regardless of the circumstances, turned back to the doctor quickly. He only caught a brief glimpse of the clone troopers as they pulled the triggers of their rifles. There was no way to dodge the hail of laser fire from six rifles in that much time. It was such a surprise, and there were still so many questions, and even more given this hasty event, that needed to be answered.

Cyan felt only hopelessness sinking in as his body broke the glass separating the hallway from the room with the children. He fell into their room; the instructors were all standing now. Cyan’s vision was blurry from tears, and it was dimly becoming redder as time passed. The children were crying now, louder and louder. Cyan stretched out one hand, his head rolling to one side.

Let yourself go, my young apprentice. You asked all of the right questions. I’m sorry we didn’t have your answers for you. Give into the Force, the Life stream around you.

Her voice went silent. It had been hers had it not? The panic was subsiding with each final breath. Calm washed over him and a feeling of content that, in time, all would be well. Cyan still took this last opportunity to hope for the best. His head to one side, he could hear the clone troopers coming to check his vitals, to finish him off. The last thing Cyan saw was that one child, the one who had… murdered the other. Blood splattered his face and the child’s raven black hair was matted together against his forehead with more blood. His eyes though… This child hadn’t been crying.

Cyan saw a boot fall before his vision, white armor plating. An armored glove grabbed Cyan’s face by the chin and held it up, Cyan’s eyes were caught in the reflection of the clone troopers visor, however it faded as his eyes closed. Cyan would meld with the Force in death, taking this chance to finish him off from the traitorous clones.

But when Cyan reached out to the Force, there was only… the Blackness. And as he felt the heat of the blaster against his face, in that light, he saw only the eyes of that child. With dread, the question flashed across his mind.

Why wasn’t that child crying?

======= Afternoon: Inside the CE Training Arena - Simulation: Desert Plateau =======

Instructor Apolly sidestepped the punch with fluid ease, turning into the momentum and bringing the pommel of his training baton against the side of the trainee's head. The trainee yelped as he fell to the ground, clutching his head.

"Get up."

The child was sobbing through clenched teeth; the child knew if he made any further noise he would only be beaten further and if he did not get up, it was likely the same would happen. However, Apolly was confident that he had struck hard enough to disorient the child and getting up would be no easy feat. The trainee shambled to his feet, they were only given time to comprehend and perform their orders, there was no lenience in hesitation or the mere struggle to comply. That was insubordination.

The kick came from below and caught the child in his stomach. The wheeze of air was quite audible as the trainee almost came off the ground. The other trainees standing around in a circle watched in solemn silence. Some fought back the impulsive internal sympathy and desire to go help their fallen comrade but they as a collective knew what it meant to show any kind or form of mercy.

Mercy was weakness. And weakness must be rooted out.

There were no second chances. The failures of others set the controls and to repeat their failures meant the equal sentence. This trainee, Sable as the others knew him, had walked right into the feint made by Instructor Apolly. Feints were lures in close combat, comparable and in similar intent to so many other things in life. To succumb and fall fool to the traps laid by others, that was what had happened to the Republic, had it not? The Jedi Order had made its feint, luring the galaxy into its trap and made its attempt. If not for the Emperor and his designs, the Jedi Order would have snared the galaxy into its control, raising force adepts up on a pedestal and dismissing the rest of the galaxy as lesser creatures, unable of determining their own fate.

The child rolled over onto his back and held a hand up in the air, blotting out the artificial sun. The training baton snapped to life with sparks of electricity, suddenly no longer a nonlethal object, if it had ever been such a thing in the hands of the Instructors.

Death. It was a state of being in which the living objects potential was suddenly undermined. The remaining object still held some degree of utility but those were under improvised circumstances. Y'roth saw death as an element of simplicity. Sable was a complicating factor within the group because Sable had a similar drive like Y'roth to fufill every order not just to the letter but better than everyone else. Sable had used a different tactic though, instead of doing so on his own as Y'roth did, Sable used the others in such a way as that he came out on top. Sable had seen the other trainees as avenues of approach towards fulfilling his ambitions while Y'roth saw them more as hindrances.

Sable had thought to make Y'roth a part of his following within the collective but Y'roth had simply planned the approach out from the beginning.

======= Morning: A Few Days Before in the CE Main Commons Area =======

"Y'roth. You are the toughest one of us and you always win at the Race. Glem and Ziadias told me that they would offer to give you help with your PMF if you'd tell us your secrets."

Sable almost crossed his arms but remembered that was a defensive posture and could throw off his prospective partner's initial approach. Y'roth, to Sable, was more like a broken robot with a sole directive. Sable wondered if maybe he could fix Y'roth in a manner of speaking, give him more directives, like any other robot. There was no such thing as a single purpose robot.

Some might have seen this conversation as one that should not, or could not be held between eight year olds however for the Instructors watching from the holoscreens in the security room, this was no surprise. The older man in the back was wearing a rag tag collection of dark reds did not watch the conversation but watched the boy sitting on the ground, tinkering with a piece of hardware.

"Who said I needed help with my personal mainframe, Sable?"

The voice was much colder than Sable expected. He had rarely heard Y'roth speak for that matter but he could not detect anything from his counterpart's speech. Nothing. Sable was actually caught off guard enough that he stuttered into his next sentence.

"Y-y-y-y-'roth, well, Glem and-"

"But what do I get from you in turn, Sable, for my secrets to the Race?"

Sable was most definitely not used to be interrupted, especially for an eight year old amongst his peers.

"Well, I worked the-"

"Not good enough. I want you to do something for me."

"B-b-b-but I-"

"When Instructor Apolly comes next, I want you to volunteer."

Sable gulped. No one volunteered. There was no logical service or accomplishment in volunteering for Instructor Apolly. It was a trap, both when Instructor Apolly asked for volunteers and what Y'roth had just put Sable up to. And Y'roth knew that Sable had to comply. Glem and even more so Ziadias did not negotiate lightly, even for eight year olds. They expected what they had been offered to be fulfilled with the promise of their action, all resting on Sable's ability to negotiate with Y'roth. There were whispers that Glem could program his PMF to give any of the other trainees nightmares when they slept. Given that all of the trainees already suffered from intense nightmares due to the neural implants in their head, more nightmares was a truly fearful threat. Ziadias could supposedly rig the scores to some tests, but not for his benefit other than supposedly making others grades less than his in electrophysics. Sable swallowed hard.

"Tell me your secrets now, and then I'll volunteer."

"No, Sable. Volunteer first and then I'll tell all of you, and then Glem and Ziadias can fix up my PMF."

======= Several Moments Later: Inside the CE Training Arena - Simulation: Desert Plateau =======

Glem and Ziadias glowered at Y'roth from across the clearing of which Instructor Apolly stood over the now dead Sable.

"What have you learned today, children? Recite line 7 and 8."

Instructor Apolly's voice sounded something like he had his voice ripped from his throat and put in backwards. In unison, the children responded.

"The Power of the Empire is absolute and those who cry out in injustice will be answered. The Empire will purge the weak and leave the strong."

Power... absolute... purge... weak...

Those were the only words that truly reflected what Y'roth saw. Sable, an obstacle, had now been removed. An absolute power had purged the weak, all hail the Emperor of the Galaxy.

------ ACCESSING ------

ROOT// DATABASE// CE//

SUBJECT// TEST RACE v.3.115//

------ DOWNLOADING ------

The RACE. Designed by Doctor Z. Rommelisch. v.3.115. v.3.116a under review by final signing authority: Governor Tarkin.

The periodical Recorded Abilities and Capabilities Examination is conducted by the CE staff in order to help candidates better realize their full potential and compare themselves against one another. The RACE consists of four sections: The Labyrinth, The Pit, The Storm, and The Nightmare. Each phase builds upon fundamental training elements that are constantly reinforced within the CE program. The performance results of each candidate are evaluated and used for future training purposes. Candidates that do not meet the established minimum score are used as examples of failure during training for the remaining candidates.

------ ACCESSING ------

ANNEX// LABYRINTH//

------DOWNLOADING ------

The Labyrinth. Phase I. Risk Assessment: Moderate. Average Duration: 120 standard hours.

The Labyrinth is a maze designed to test the initial phases of fatigue and the physical and mental endurance of the candidates. The Labyrinth is broken down into three main levels.

The first level is a more conventional maze populated by droids and hunter-seeker modules that will attempt to herd candidates together and then force them to a capture point. Capture points are specific check points established by Instructors. Any candidate that enters a capture point will be escorted to the second level of the Labyrinth. Candidates are evaluated on their decision making process under duress, their ability to evade capture, and their cunning in how they manipulate the system therein.

The second level is a simulated harsh environment that can vary between high mountains, deep jungle, and desert landscapes. Candidates must travel through the environment and reach randomly allocated and placed check points. Candidates are evaluated on their choice of routes, their ability to adapt to the adverse effects of the environment, and their ability to outpace other candidates. When a candidate reaches one of their set checkpoints, the checkpoint is set to stand by and cannot be used for a random period of time ranging from two to five hours. When a candidate has confirmed that every checkpoint has been reached, they are transported to the third level of the Labyrinth.

The third level consists of a series of rooms. Each room is a puzzle that must be solved within a certain time limit. The puzzles and their solutions can be found in ANNEX ALGORITHMS. Candidates are evaluated on their problem solving ability and the speed in which they act. When every room has been completed, the candidate is transported to The Pit.

"All praise the Emperor.
The Emperor grants us all the Power to serve.
Through Power, we have Security, and in that, we know Peace.
Peace is paid for with the blood of the loyal.
Without Security, the innocent will suffer.
With Power, the Empire shall never falter.
The Power of the Empire is absolute and those who cry out in injustice will be answered.
The Empire will purge the weak and leave the strong.
As the Jedi were purged, their weakness wrought treason.
The Force inspires weakness."

As they finished the Emperor's Creed, all of the boys looked up as one from their kneeling position to the statue of the Emperor that looked down on them like an ominous father.

"Today! Today you will be judged for your faith and loyalty to your Emperor!"

Instructor Damusnes clapped his gloved hands together, drawing the attention of the group of boys, roughly around 13 years of age.

"Rise, my fellow servants of the Emperor, and steel your souls for the Hand of the Emperor will hold it in his grasp."

Y'roth glanced from Instructor Damusnes, whose youthful features had betrayed too many others with the illusion that he was a big brother figure rather than the predator that he really way, to the two men who stood behind him. One was Doctor Rommelisch and the other...

He stood tall in black and red plated armor. Half of his face was covered in a spider veins and burn marks, scarring from some kind of electrical wound. He emanated a darkness that Y'roth could almost see, even in the shadows of the large room. This was a Hand of the Emperor.

=======

"Worthless. Your strength is a facade. The Emperor does not need weaklings who will only pretend to be loyal."

They all stood and watched as Melliphus was judged by the Hand of the Emperor. They watched as the man's black, gloved hand was inches from the boy's neck and yet he was still being choked. He struggled, tugging at the collar of his uniform, falling to his knees as his eyes filled with blood. Until finally, when Melliphus the Snide, as he was known among the rest of them, fell, face upon the black, marble floor, his eyes staring into nothing beyond the group of boys.

"Next."

The instructor standing to the side addressed a console, reviewing the list and calling out the next name.

"Y'roth."

The boy stepped forward with as much boldness as he could muster. This situation was no different than any other time. Y'roth believed every word of the Emperor's Creed to his very soul and this man would know that too.

Zerxes Caminades stood with his arms crossed before him as two storm troopers removed the corpse of the candidate named Melliphus.

"Next."

"Y'roth."

Something clicked in the back of Zerxes' mind.

=======

"Mark this one, Zerxes."

"Yes, Master. Orphan Y'roth, marked for force sensitivity, no innate talent."

=======

A wry smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. If only that dried up, old woman had known then what had become of the two of them, Zerxes and Y'roth. How far they had come.

"Step forward, Y'roth, and be judged before the Hand of the Emperor..."