THE OPPOSITE OF a Jedi Master is a Sith Lord.
Well, “opposite” isn’t quite accurate. Perhaps we should say a Sith Lord is the “inverse” of a Jedi Master. Or the photographic negative, where everything that is light becomes dark.
Where Jedi Masters meditate to quiet their minds and connect with the Force—that wave of energy that unifies all living things—Sith Lords meditate to concentrate their anger, their fear, and their hatred into a pure point of ruthless power within them.
This is what Darth Vader is doing, sitting in his meditation cell aboard the Empire’s flagship, when General Veers enters the room. The silence is heavy. It is punctuated only by the regular breathing of the Sith Lord through his ventilator.
General Veers looks young for his position, but he has seen fire in a dozen battles. He has earned his rank through cunning and courage. He fought the Zalorians on Zaloriis. The Culroonians on Culroon III. And the Yavinians while flying through space. Backward. Never was Veers afraid.
But now, merely standing in the private chamber of Darth Vader, Veers is afraid. He remains silent. A droplet of sweat runs along a crease in his forehead.
Finally, Vader murmurs, “What is it, General?”
Even a murmur from Vader can wrong-foot a battle-hardened commander. Veers stammers before speaking. “My lord, the fleet has moved out of lightspeed. We have detected an energy field protecting an area around the sixth planet of the Hoth system. It is strong enough to withstand even our cannons.”
Vader rises. His dark, looming figure looms even larger and more darkly when he is angry. “That fool of an admiral came out of lightspeed too close to the system.”
“He felt surprise was wiser, Lord Vader.”
“He is as clumsy as he is stupid.”
Secretly, Veers agrees. But he will not reveal his opinion. He is a military man, and he knows his place.
Vader studies the clean-faced general. “Prepare for a surface attack.”
The general bows and scurries from the chamber.
Vader turns to a large screen and calls up an image of Admiral Ozzel conferring with Captain Piett on the ship’s bridge.
“Lord Vader,” the admiral hails him, as smug as any commander on the verge of a decisive victory. “We are in position to—”
The admiral is suddenly not speaking. Rather, his mouth is moving, but no words are coming out. He searches mutely for sound—then for breath. He finds neither. His hands crawl to his neck. His eyes bulge.
“You have failed me for the last time, Admiral,” Vader intones. “Captain Piett, are you there?”
A frightened captain steps around the admiral, who is now grasping at his throat frantically and turning a pale shade of blue. “Yes, Lord Vader?”
“Make ready our ships for a ground assault. You are in command now, Admiral Piett.”
With those words, the former admiral collapses to the floor. He is dead.