Dressed in his pyjamas and robe, slippers flapping on marble floors, Tiberius Anar, raced through the corridors of the Imperial Palace. Guards came to attention around him as he pushed his way into the Operation’s Centre.

“Report,” he snapped.

A military aide, one of those assigned to Palace by the Navy, outlined what was known in a few brief sentences. The Emperor had been on the Death Star. He had been personally interrogating a leading Rebel in the company of Lord Vader. The prisoner had attempted escape. In the ensuing melee all three had died.

“How long ago?”

“An hour, sir.”

Anar’s mind raced. If the Emperor was dead then swift action was necessary to keep the Empire together. Systems had to be kept under Imperial rule. The fleets had to be kept loyal. There had to be a display of strength. The sooner he acted the better for all.

Council Chamber thought Anar The Moffs.

“I want every moff, now. On the holo-net. Put them through to the Council Chamber. All of them.”

The Operations Room came alive at that. Obeying orders helped to combat the shock. Without another word Anar walked out and headed down the corridor.

A short turbolift ride brought him to the hallway leading to the Council Chamber. He double doors to the Chamber were guarded by two Royal Guards, silent, scarlet sentinels their faces hidden by helmets that deliberately obscured their humanity. As Anar approached, their force pikes crashed together barring his way.

“Stand aside,” he barked, “I must use the Chamber.”

The guards stood silent, watching through those black-glassed eye slits.

Anar attempted to step forwards. The pikes were turned on him.

“Dammit!” Anar expostulated, “The Emperor is dead.”

The effect of those four words was astonishing. In one fluid movement and with out, it seemed, any hesitation the guards activated their force-pikes, inverted them and drove them into their own chests. With no sound other than the whirring of the pikes they crumpled to the floor.

Anar had no time to ponder this strange action, otherwise he might have realised this was how the Emperor's protectors behaved when confronted with failure. He stepped over the lifeless red-garbed forms and opened the Chamber’s doors.

Inside he found the light controls and using them revealed the contents of the Chamber. A treble bank of holo-plates were arrayed in a rising half circle around a slightly raised dais. Aimed directly at that dais was a holo-camera. Anar stalked across the room towards it, thumbing his comm-link as he did so.

“Have you got them?”

“Yes, sir,” crackled the comm.

“Very well, activate the plates.”

With a slight shimmering of the air the majority of the holo-plates came on line. They revealed the three quarter sized figures of the Empire’s moffs in various states of dress. Those fortunate enough to have been found during local daylight were wearing their uniforms, those caught at night were attired in similar fashion to to Anar. One or two appeared to be wrapped in bed sheets.

“Gentlemen,” said Anar as evenly as he could manage, “I have grave news. The Emperor has been killed by a rebel insurgent.”

Most of the moffs, thanks to long habit, concealed their emotions but not a few were surprised enough to show it. One or two looked completely lost.

“His death is a terrible blow to us,” continued Anar, “but we must ensure that the Empire does not disintegrate. Order must be maintained.”

Nods greeted this statement.

“Therefore, total martial law should be declared throughout the Empire and steps taken to demonstrate our unity. The people must know that the Empire will continue to rule and that the Rebels will be crushed. I rely upon you gentlemen to see to it.”

It was not exactly a command. For some unknown reason Anar could not command these men not now- grave danger lay down that path. Fortunately for the Imperial politician, years of commands issued from this room ensured that the moffs greeted it as a command. A chorus of Yes sir's and At once’s echoed round the room.

Then they disappeared. Some no doubt would instantly carry out Anar’s “suggestion”. Others would hesitate. And a few might not do it at all. He was sure that at least a few would weight their options to see which way lay the best advantage for themselves before acting.

Anar could only think what path he had set out on, standing alone in that shadowy room.