IN A WAY, Krennic thought, the rebels had done him a favor. He’d already planned to shut down the facility on Eadu, and they’d done an admirable job of that. In fact, they’d gone and killed everyone who could have revealed any of the Death Star’s secrets to them.

Of course, the fact that the rebels knew about Eadu in the first place didn’t reflect well on Krennic, he knew. Tarkin surely wouldn’t see it favorably, and Krennic’s worst fears had been confirmed as he was headed back to the Death Star.

That’s when he’d received a summons from the Emperor’s right hand, Darth Vader himself.

That was never a good thing.

Krennic had met Vader before, and the Sith Lord had rankled him. Krennic considered himself a man of science, and because of that he instantly dismissed Vader’s entire religion, based as it was on the so-called Force and other superstitions.

That didn’t please Vader, of course, and since Vader had the Emperor’s ear, it didn’t help Krennic much, either. So at the very least, Krennic always tried to show Vader respect. That wasn’t hard, because—ridiculous religion or not—Lord Vader was clearly a dangerous man.

Vader’s summons had instructed Krennic to go to his residence on Mustafar, a planet nearly consumed by volcanic activity. Krennic could never understand why Vader would choose to live in such a horrible place—especially given a fact Krennic had discovered while snooping through Imperial Intelligence files for information about the Sith Lord. Mustafar was the planet on which Vader had been so horribly injured decades before.

Those injuries required him to wear that horrible respirator just so he could breathe. It made terrible noises every time what was left of the man inhaled and exhaled. Hoooo-perrrr. Hoooo-perrrr.

It sounded like he was just this side of the grave and meant to suck everyone else down with him. When Krennic was in Vader’s presence, it took everything he had to ignore it.

When Krennic arrived on Mustafar, he’d ordered his pilot to land next to Vader’s monolith, the tall black tower the Sith Lord called home. He’d left his death troopers inside the shuttle and entered the forbidding place alone.

Vader’s aide had met him at the door and led him inside to a dim and stifling waiting room that felt something like the inside of an oven. Then Krennic had been forced to wait for Lord Vader like some junior official who had nothing better to do with his time.

This always irritated Krennic, but he didn’t see what he could do. Given his precarious position with the Emperor at the moment—mostly due to Tarkin’s interference—he couldn’t afford to ignore a summons from Vader. It would be seen as a rebuke to the Emperor himself, and that was the absolute last thing Krennic wanted.

So he waited.

Eventually, a door opened on the far end of the meeting chamber, lighting up the darkened room. Krennic heard the man before he saw him. Hoooo-perrrr. Hoooo-perrrr.

Then Darth Vader came through that open door, casting his long shadow across the room. Krennic fought what he felt was the natural urge to turn and run.

“Director Krennic,” Vader said in a deep and resonant voice, through the ebony mask that concealed all his features. He did not sound pleased.

Krennic reminded himself not to stutter. “Lord Vader.”

“You seem unsettled.”

Krennic grimaced at that. Of course he was “unsettled.” He was practically beside himself with panic. But he couldn’t reveal that to Vader.

“No,” he said. “Just pressed for time. There’s a great many things to attend to.”

“My apologies.” Vader’s tone betrayed no sense of actual regret. “You do have a great many things to explain.”

Krennic stiffened his spine. “I’ve delivered the weapon the Emperor requested. I deserve an audience to make sure he understands its remarkable potential.”

He only wanted to make the Emperor see how valuable the Death Star could be—and by extension, how valuable he could be. With its power, and the will to use it, they could eliminate war forever and bring eternal peace to the galaxy. The Empire would be made eternal.

But Vader wasn’t convinced.

“Its power to create problems has certainly been confirmed. A city destroyed. An Imperial facility openly attacked.”

That wasn’t Krennic’s fault. Everything had been going so well.

“It was Governor Tarkin that suggested the test.”

Krennic’s attempt to deflect the blame didn’t work on Vader. “You were not summoned here to grovel, Director Krennic.”

He was glad to hear that, but if not that, then what? To be executed?

“No, I—”

“There is no Death Star,” Vader pronounced. “We’re informing the Senate that Jedha was destroyed in a mining disaster.”

Krennic knew that claim wouldn’t hold up to a close inspection, but the Empire could probably ensure no one ever managed such an investigation. What choice did he have but to agree?

“Yes, my lord.”

Vader turned to leave. “I expect you to not rest until you can assure the Emperor that Erso has not compromised this weapon.”

It was all Krennic could do not to breathe a loud sigh of relief. “So I’m…I’m—I’m still in command.”

Vader didn’t correct him on that point, and that emboldened Krennic to push further.

“You’ll speak to the Emperor about—”

Krennic’s voice failed him as an invisible hand seemed to wrap around his throat and begin to cut off his air. He struggled against it, unsure of what to do, since there were no fingers to pry from his neck.

He looked at Vader and saw the man holding a hand toward him, pinching the air, and he knew what was happening. The Sith Lord’s faith in his ancient religion suddenly didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore.

Krennic wondered if this was it for him. Had Vader only been playing with him before his execution?

“Be careful not to choke on your aspirations, Director.”

Then Darth Vader lowered his hand, and as suddenly as it had begun, the pressure on Krennic’s throat disappeared. He collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, thankful to still be breathing at all.