"Ever since I was a child

"Ever since I was a child... I looked into the Vortex and that's when it chose me. The Drumming. The Call. To War."

―The Master as Harold Saxon

Title: They call him the Master

Author: Evilclone

Rating: K

Summary: They call him the Master, It was a pseudonym, he knew, just like the one he had used before.

Spoilers: None

Notes: I always wondered about the Master in the New Doctor Who Series, what if he hadn't gone to the ends of the Universe what if he'd gone to the Star Wars universe instead?


The Emperor was deep in thought, seated on his throne, his hood over his head masking his face. The only thing that could be seen - had anyone been there to see – was the scowl on his lips. He was pondering a name that had been floating around the spy network for sometime, and was wondering whether or not to do anything….

Should he eliminate the man calling himself The Master, or should he simply watch, waiting for the upstart to step out of line?

The Emperor had not gotten where he was by being stupid; lesser men would never have been able to pull the Republic from under the Jedi's feet.

'The Master'

It was a pseudonym, he knew, just like the one he had used as he had made the Jedi fight on several fonts, just as he used when he had orchestrated the battle between the two warring factions, the Republic and the Separatists.

'The Master'

The Emperor smiled, it was a slow thing that appeared on his lips as they quirked upwards. He liked that name, the Master of all that was. He hit the communications hologram and waited, after a moment it beeped and the image of Darth Vader appeared.

'The Master'

Vader was kneeling, as was his rightful place. Vader spoke his voice coming out in a metallic wheeze, "Yes my Master."

"Lord Vader," Palpatine said with a sneer. "Contact this Master, and bring him before me, I wish to talk to him."

"Yes my master," the image flickered out. Yes a meeting would be necessary to determine the Master's true purpose.

The Emperor smiled, and thought that it was a pity that he hadn't thought of it.