KRENNIC GRANTED himself permission to enjoy a wide, hungry smile as the destruction of Jedha City blossomed beneath him. The view from the overbridge of the Death Star was breathtaking. A part of him reveled in the destruction and wondered if that was how he would have felt witnessing the dawn of the universe.

The weapon he had created would alter the course of the galaxy. It would crush the Rebel Alliance and put an end to its uprising in an instant. It would bring peace to the galaxy by eliminating any question of who wielded the ultimate power.

To top it all off, Krennic got to bask in the look of astonishment that had washed over Grand Moff Tarkin’s face. This would establish which of them was most deserving of the Emperor’s favor, once and for all.

Tarkin turned to Krennic, his head bowed for a moment. “I believe I owe you an apology, Director Krennic. Your work exceeds all expectations.”

Krennic resisted the impulse to rub Tarkin’s nose in that statement. Instead, he savored it for as long as he could. Finally, all his hard work—all the horrible things he’d had to do along the way—had paid off. No one could refuse to acknowledge what he had accomplished.

“And you’ll tell the Emperor as much?” Krennic almost laughed at his own comment. Of course Tarkin would. How could he possibly deny the Death Star’s power?

Tarkin gave him a grave nod. “I will tell him his patience with your misadventures has been rewarded with a weapon that will bring a swift end to the Rebellion.”

Krennic couldn’t help gloating a bit at that. If there was a note of reservation in Tarkin’s voice, Krennic was too aglow with his success to hear it. “And that was only an inkling of the destructive potential.”

They’d only used a single reactor for the test shot, and it had instantly wiped out Jedha City. Just imagine what the Death Star could do when operating at its full capacity.

Then Tarkin dropped the bombshell that Krennic knew he should have seen coming. “I will tell him that I will be taking over control of the weapon I first spoke of years ago. Effective immediately.”

Krennic’s face flushed. He couldn’t believe the man’s naked grab for power—and only moments after Krennic’s amazing triumph!

“We are standing here amidst my achievement—not yours!”

Tarkin gave Krennic the kind of rueful look a teacher might reserve for a promising but misguided student. “I’m afraid these recent security breaches have laid bare your inadequacies as a military director.”

Krennic bristled at the accusation. He had thousands of people under his purview. How could he possibly ensure that none of them would betray the Empire? He’d done everything within his power to keep as tight a lid on the security around the Death Star as possible—up to and including permanently silencing many of the outside contractors who had worked on it.

“The breaches have been filled!” Krennic protested. He stabbed a finger toward the destruction on the moon below. “Jedha has been silenced.”

What more could anyone do than that?

But Krennic had underestimated Tarkin. It had never been about Krennic or his so-called inadequacies. It had been about Tarkin’s carefully amassing as much power for himself as possible. He didn’t care what an amazing job Krennic had done. He’d only been waiting for him to prove the Death Star was a success.

He was going to take it from him either way.

“You think this pilot acted alone?” Tarkin chuckled, making sure to rub it in. “He was dispatched from the installation on Eadu. Galen Erso’s facility.”

It wasn’t enough for Tarkin to strip Krennic of his triumph. He wanted to make sure it hurt, too.

Krennic wasn’t about to let Tarkin get away with this. If Eadu was the source of his troubles, then he would go there and pull them out by the roots. Nothing would escape his scrutiny or his wrath.

Nothing would keep him from triumph. Not Tarkin, and certainly not any traitors.

“We’ll see about this,” he said as he stormed off the overbridge of what he still thought of—and would always think of—as his Death Star.