Bail and his two aides stood by the reception room holoprojector, awaiting some word of Fang Zar’s whereabouts. From the direction of the residence wing came Antilles and the droids.

“Go ahead, Threepio, tell him,” Antilles said when the three of them were within earshot of Bail.

“Master Organa, I hardly know where to begin,” C-3PO said. “You see, sir, my counterpart and I were about to enter the palace grounds—”

“Threepio,” Antilles said sharply. “Save the long story for another occasion.”

R2-D2 communicated something in bleating tones.

C-3PO turned to the astromech. “Verbose? Tiresome? Just you mind your enunciator, you—”

“See-Threepio!” Antilles repeated.

The protocol droid fell silent. “I’m very sorry, sirs. I’m simply unaccustomed to so much excitement.”

“That’s all right, See-Threepio,” Bail said. “Take your time.”

“Thank you, Master Organa. I only wanted to report that the three intruders who held us captive were apparently intent on collecting some sort of ‘bundle’—that was the word they used—at the palace’s east gate.”

“Quickly!” Bail said to his aides.

Aldrete bent to adjust the holoprojector’s controls. An instant later an east gate security cam captured a holoimage of Fang Zar, seized in the grip of two humanoids who were running him toward a landing platform that had been designated for HoloNet personnel.

A second cam found Vader, crimson-bladed lightsaber in hand, fending off blasterfire from a long-haired human male who was also racing for the east gate.

“Sir,” Sheltray Retrac said suddenly.

Following Asta’s worried gaze, Bail saw Sate Pestage striding into the reception room.

“Senator, I have just learned that Senator Zar is at this moment being conducted from the palace,” Pestage said, in what Bail sensed was almost theatrical spleen. “If this is your way of providing immunity—”

“We’ve only just discovered his whereabouts,” Bail cut him off, motioning to the holoimages. “In any case, it looks as if the Emperor’s ‘emissary’ has the situation well in hand.”

Pestage dismissed Bail’s anger with a superfluous wave of his hand. “Through no help of yours, Senator. I demand that you secure the palace before it’s too late!”

Bail glanced at the holoimages of Vader, the long-haired man, Fang Zar …

“Seal it, I tell you!”

Bail took a final glance at the images, then complied.

Firing on the run, Shryne made a mad dash for the rampart gate. If his retreat struck Skeck, or Archyr, or even Fang Zar, as cowardly, then so be it. For it was clear that Vader wasn’t going to be stopped by blaster bolts, and Shryne was a long way from the nearest lightsaber.

Shryne wasn’t surprised that Vader knew him by name; that he did only reinforced the fact that Vader and the Emperor had full access to the Jedi Temple databases. For all Shryne knew, Vader had been at the Temple when Filli Bitters had sliced into the beacon.

Outside the gate now, he began to zigzag through the densely packed crowd. Catching sight of his weapon, many of the marchers hastened to open a path for him—an obvious berserker in their midst. Through gaps in the throng, Shryne could see Skeck, Archyr, Jula, and Zar on the landing platform, surrounded by what Shryne took to be irate HoloNet correspondents, yelling at them and gesticulating to the drop ship that had set down without permission.

Judging by her gestures, Jula was attempting to placate everyone, or at least assure them that the ship would soon be on its way—assuming that Vader didn’t scuttle their plans with a single leap.

Midway up the stairway that led to the landing platform, Shryne came to a halt, to take what he hoped would be a last look at Vader, who was still on the palace grounds, a couple of meters shy of the rampart gate. Of greater interest to Shryne, however, was the fact that an alloy curtain, thick as a blast shield, was descending rapidly from the head jamb of the arched entrance.

The palace was being sealed shut, and Vader was in risk of not making it through the gate in time!

Understanding as much, the Emperor’s executioner was moving faster now. A jump carried him to the rampart, just short of the lowering shield, where he did something so unexpected that it took Shryne a moment to make sense of what was happening.

Vader hurled his ignited lightsaber through the air.

For a split second Shryne thought that he had done so in anger. Then, in awe, he grasped that Vader had aimed.

Spinning out from under the lowering security grate, the crimson blade sailed high over the crowd, following a trajectory that took it north of the landing platform; then, on reaching the distal end of its arc, it began to boomerang back.

Shryne flew for the top of the stairway, his gaze fully engaged on the twirling blade, his heart hammering in his chest. Calling on the Force, he tried to influence the course of the lightsaber, but either the Force wasn’t with him or Vader’s Force abilities were overpowering his.

The blade was whipping toward the landing platform now, close enough for Shryne to hear it whine through the air, and spinning so swiftly it might have been a blood-red disk.

Passing within a meter of Shryne’s outstretched hands, the lightsaber struck Fang Zar first, ripping a deep gouge across his upper chest and nearly decapitating him; then, continuing on, it struck an unsuspecting Jula across the back before completing its swift and lethal circle and slamming into the upper reaches of the fully lowered rampart gate, where it switched off and plummeted to the paving stones with a metallic clangor.

On the landing platform, Skeck was bent low over Fang Zar; Archyr, over Jula.

Rooted in place, Shryne could sense Vader on the far side of the gate, a black hole of rage.

Shryne commenced a stiff-legged descent of the stairway, deaf to all sound, blind to color, scarcely in possession of his self.

He didn’t come to his senses until he reached the foot of the stairs, where he turned and ran to help get his mother and Zar aboard the drop ship.