The Eternal Emperor

Lelouch sat in his private quarters aboard the Excalibur, his mind focused on the broadcast playing in front of him. The news was filled with talk of Senator Padmé Amidala's latest attempt to halt the production of more clone troopers. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth as the debate unfolded, his eyes flickering with amusement. 

"…Senator Amidala's pacifist stance has been met with heavy opposition," the anchorwoman said, her tone grave. "Representatives from war-torn systems continue to voice their frustrations with her position, citing the need for more soldiers to combat the growing Separatist threat." 

The screen cut to a panel of guests, each from a different system ravaged by the war. A man from Duro, his face lined with exhaustion, spoke first. "It's easy for her to preach peace from the Core Worlds, sitting behind fleets and guards. Meanwhile, we've had to rebuild from nothing. I've seen cities flattened, entire families wiped out." 

Another voice, this time from Sullust, chimed in. "We need more troops. The droid armies don't stop, and without more reinforcements, we'll lose this war. What does Senator Amidala think we're fighting for?" 

The debate continued, each speaker denouncing Amidala's pacifist ideals. Lelouch watched with mild interest, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of his chair. He had anticipated Amidala's failure to rally support for her bill. It was inevitable. The galaxy was too entrenched in war, and her calls for peace rang hollow to those who had suffered the most. 

As the broadcast droned on, Lelouch's thoughts were interrupted by the soft chime of his communicator. He tapped the device, and the face of his communication officer appeared on the screen. 

"Sir, we've received a request for docking from a Republic corvette. They're operating under the authority of the Jedi High Council." 

Lelouch's eyes narrowed slightly, his mind immediately calculating the implications. "A corvette? Did we know they were coming?" 

"No, sir," the officer responded, his tone uneasy. "We've been running silent, and as per your orders, no one should know our exact location." 

Lelouch's lips curled into a cold smile. "Interesting." 

He turned his chair toward the communication console. "Consult with the navigation officer and confirm the data we've been transmitting. Ensure it shows the parallel route." 

The officer nodded. "Understood, sir. Shall I deny them docking privileges?" 

"No," Lelouch said, his tone calm but commanding. "Grant them access to Hangar 2." 

The officer saluted and the transmission ended. Lelouch sat back in his chair, his smile fading as his mind raced. The Jedi were many things, but subtle was rarely one of them. For them to track his ship to this location meant they were desperate for something—or someone. 

A soft knock on the door drew Lelouch's attention. Fordo, his ever-loyal ARC Trooper, stepped into the room. 

"General, we've received word of a Jedi corvette requesting to dock. Shall I prepare a response?" 

Lelouch nodded, his eyes gleaming. "Have Commander Thorn ready a 'greeting' party. Contingency 66 parameters. I suspect we'll have more guests than we bargained for." 

Commander Thorn moved swiftly through the hangar bay, directing the placement of his troops. The massive expanse of the Excalibur's Hangar 2 was already bustling with activity as squads of troopers set up in strategic positions. An AT-TE walker stood near the far wall, seemingly under repair but carefully positioned to cover the landing zone with its heavy artillery. 

Troopers took their positions with military precision, their blasters aimed and ready. The tension in the hangar was palpable. Thorn's experience told him to expect the worst when Jedi were involved—this wouldn't be a simple diplomatic visit. 

Thorn gave the final once-over to the hangar layout before turning to Lelouch, who had entered moments earlier. His pristine white uniform stood out against the darker armor of the clones, a stark contrast that seemed almost intentional. Lelouch was the picture of calm, but Thorn knew better. The man was always three steps ahead of everyone, calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. 

"Everything's in place, General," Thorn reported, his voice steady. "The AT-TE's covering the landing zone, and we've got ambush teams ready to hit the engines and the cockpit as soon as they land." 

Lelouch's purple eyes flickered with a brief smile. "Good. Allow them to dock." 

Thorn raised a hand to his helmet, giving the signal to the bridge. Within moments, the force field at the entrance of the hangar shimmered as the bay doors began to open, allowing the Jedi corvette to glide into the cavernous space. 

"Visual confirmation—it's a CR-20 transport," Thorn said into his commlink. He turned to his squads. "Aim for the engines and the control room. We'll disable it before they even know what hit them." 

The transport slowed as it approached the hangar floor, its landing struts extending to make contact with the durasteel surface. The sound of the ship's metal hull scraping against the floor echoed through the hangar as it settled into place. 

Thorn's finger hovered over the trigger of his commlink. The moment the ship's struts hit the ground, he barked the order. "Now!" 

A barrage of rockets fired from three directions, streaking through the air toward the CR-20's engines and cockpit. One rocket was intercepted mid-flight by a blur of motion—a Force push from inside the ship—but the rest found their mark. The engines erupted in a cascade of fire, and the cockpit was engulfed in a thunderous explosion. 

The transport shuddered under the impact, smoke billowing from its now-crippled systems. The door to the cargo hold began to creak open, but it was far too slow. Thorn's voice echoed through the hangar. "AT-TE, fire! Don't give them a chance to get out!" 

The walker's massive turret swiveled with precision and unleashed a devastating blast toward the body of the transport. The shot connected with a resounding boom, causing the door to collapse completely. The transport was now a burning wreck, its structural integrity barely holding. 

From the flames and smoke, disoriented figures began to emerge—Jedi, their robes scorched, some of them still ablaze, staggering out of the wreckage. Thorn's troopers wasted no time. Blaster fire rained down on the survivors, taking them out before they had a chance to defend themselves. Some managed to deflect a few shots with their lightsabers, but the sheer volume of fire was overwhelming. 

Lelouch stood at the edge of the hangar, his arms folded as he watched the ambush unfold. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain satisfaction in his eyes as the Jedi fell one by one. 

As the last of the Jedi dropped to the floor, there was a sudden, violent surge in the Force. From the remains of the transport, a figure leapt into the air, scarred and burned, his Jedi robes in tatters. His right arm hung limply by his side, badly injured, but his left hand still gripped a blue lightsaber, blazing with defiance. 

Thorn immediately recognized the threat. "Incoming Jedi! Focus fire on him!" 

The figure rushed toward Lelouch, his face twisted with pain and fury. But before he could get far, Fordo, the elite ARC Trooper captain, stepped in front of Lelouch, his blaster rifle raised. "Stand down!" Fordo barked, aiming at the charging Jedi. 

"Alive," Lelouch ordered, his voice calm amidst the chaos. "I want him alive." 

Thorn and his troopers switched to stun settings, their blasters now firing rings of blue energy toward the Jedi. The figure—Master Coleman Kcaj, a seasoned Jedi High-Council member—managed to deflect several shots, but the overwhelming firepower was too much. A stun blast struck him in the leg, forcing him to stumble. Another hit him in the shoulder, and then more followed, forcing his lightsaber to fall to the ground as he was unable to hold on to it any longer. 

Finally, as Kcaj dropped to his knees, struggling to stay upright, Thorn stepped forward, his rotary blaster cannon in hand. "You're done," he muttered, before delivering a brutal strike to Kcaj's head with the heavy weapon, knocking the Jedi Master unconscious. 

The hangar fell silent except for the crackling of fire from the ruined transport. The ambush had been swift, precise, and lethal. Lelouch stood unmoved by the scene, his gaze lingering on the fallen Jedi Master. 

"Secure the survivors," Lelouch commanded, his voice cold. "Burn the rest." 

Thorn nodded, saluting sharply. "Yes, sir." 

The clones moved quickly, dragging the bodies of the fallen Jedi to a corner of the hangar. Those who still clung to life were shackled and sedated, their lightsabers confiscated. As the clones began the grim task of disposing of the dead, Lelouch turned to Fordo. 

"Make sure the Jedi Master is kept alive. I have plans for him." 

Fordo gave a curt nod. "Understood, General." 

Lelouch took one last look at the scene—the broken transport, the burning bodies, the eerie quiet that followed the massacre—and smiled. 

-------------------- 

Lelouch stood in the cold, dimly lit cell, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes trained on the hunched figure before him. The walls were silent, almost suffocating in their stillness, broken only by the faint hum of the ship's systems. Coleman Kcaj, a once-proud Jedi High Council member, now looked anything but imposing. His once immaculate robes were tattered, his face gaunt and pallid from the wounds and the exhaustion of his failed ambush. He had been stripped of his weapon and dignity, sitting there bound and slumped against the metal bench, barely conscious. 

"Why, Master Kcaj?" Lelouch's voice was cold and calm, echoing slightly in the metallic room. He stood straight, like a figure carved from stone, his face as unreadable as ever. His purple eyes narrowed with a mix of curiosity and calculation. "A Jedi High Council member, pretending to act on the authority of the Jedi High Council... Why? Clearly its not something you thought to share with the rest of the council... so its something you had to do on your own..." 

Coleman Kcaj barely shifted. His breathing was shallow, labored, his body trembling from the pain of his injuries and whatever lingering effects from the explosion in the hangar. Yet, Lelouch continued, his voice gaining a steely edge. 

"Give or take thirty Jedi," he said with a dismissive wave. "An entire assault force designed to leave no survivors. You would have slaughtered my men, perhaps staged an 'accident' to cover your tracks. A calculated operation, Master Kcaj, and yet here we are. Why?" Lelouch's voice grew quieter, more intense as he stepped closer, looming over the broken Jedi. "Why risk all of this? What could be so important that you would abandon the very principles of the Order you so proudly serve?" 

Coleman raised his head slowly, his eyes unfocused, though there was a momentary flicker of defiance. But it was fleeting. His body was weak, his mind teetering on the edge, barely holding onto the light that guided him. He said nothing, merely stared at Lelouch, his chest heaving as if even breathing required monumental effort. 

In the shadowed corner of the room, a new presence emerged. Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways, now manifested in an armored form—a towering figure that mimicked the outline of a Chaos Space Marine, clad in ancient armor of vibrant, shifting blues and purples. The form radiated both malevolence and knowledge, every detail of the warplate intricately adorned with symbols of power. It prowled around the cell like a predator, the gaze fixated on Coleman Kcaj with a sinister gleam. 

The presence was more than physical. It was a force, pressing into the room, brushing against the Jedi's mind. The very air crackled with the dark power , and Coleman could feel it, even without knowing who or what it truly was. His mind reeled as the armored hand's finger scratched as it reached out, gently brushing against his spirit. The pain was subtle at first, a whisper in the back of his mind, then it grew, slowly, agonizingly, twisting through his consciousness like a creeping shadow. 

Coleman's body jolted, his eyes snapping wide open as a silent scream tore through him. His muscles tensed, every fiber of his being reacting to the invisible torment that raked his soul. He couldn't understand it— it was the force yet it felt different. The whispers wouldn't stop, he couldn't make them stop, and in his attempt, something shifted through, though not deep, it was enough. 

Tzeentch circled him, the armored boots clanking rhythmically against the floor. The hand, wreathed in shifting tendrils of the dark side, hovered inches from Coleman's head, not quite touching him, yet close enough that the power grazed him, corrupting, twisting. 

'He hides something,' Tzeentch's voice echoed in Lelouch's mind, a voice that was both ancient and new, a whisper and a scream, all at once. 'Something forbidden to him. Something more important to him than his life... or even the Jedi Order itself.' 

Lelouch rolled his eyes at that with a scoff, looking down at the Jedi Master who kept shaking his head as if trying to shake something out of it. 'That much was apparent, otherwise this wouldn't have happened in the first place.' 

'Well then... let's test just how cooperative you can get him to be.'