One by one Palpatine’s military advisers appeared before him, standing in postures of obeisance below the throne room’s dais, their eyes narrowed against the orange blaze of Coruscant’s setting sun, delivering their reports and appraisals, their expert assessments of the state of his Empire.
Royal Guards stood to both sides of the high-backed chair; behind them sat Mas Amedda, Sly Moore, and other members of Palpatine’s inner circle.
He listened to everyone without comment.
In some outlying systems, arsenals of Separatist weapons, in some cases entire flotillas of droid-piloted warships, had been commandeered by rogue paramilitary groups before Imperial forces could reach them.
In Hutt space, smugglers, pirates, and other scoundrels were taking advantage of the Emperor’s need to consolidate power by blazing new routes for the movement of spice and other proscribed goods.
On many former CIS worlds, bounty hunters were tracking down former Separatist colluders.
In the Mid Rim, Imperial academies were filling with recruits obtained from flight schools throughout the galaxy.
In the Outer Rim, three new batches of stormtroopers were being grown.
Closer to the Core, capital ships were being turned out by Sienar, Kuat Drive, and other yards.
And yet at present there were simply too few battle groups or stormtroopers to deploy at every potential trouble spot.
Massive protests had been held on Alderaan, Corellia, and Commenor.
Progress was lagging on several of the Emperor’s most cherished projects, owing to a lack of construction workers …
When the last of his advisers had come and gone, Palpatine dismissed everyone, including the members of his inner circle, and sat gazing over the western cityscape as it came to brilliant light in the deepening dusk.
Under the rule of the ancient Sith, the future of the galaxy had been in the able hands of many dark sovereigns. Now responsibility for maintaining order rested only with Darth Sidious.
For the moment it was enough that his advisers and minions respected him—for reestablishing peace, for eliminating the group that had posed the greatest threat to continued stability—but eventually those same advisers would need to fear him. To understand the great power he wielded, as both Emperor and Dark Lord of the Sith. And to that end, Sidious needed Vader.
For if someone as potent as Vader answered to the Emperor, then how powerful must the Emperor be!
After he had spent several hours drifting on the currents of possible futures, Palpatine summoned Sate Pestage. Swiveling his chair from the view of Coruscant when the most trusted of his advisers entered the throne room, Palpatine ordered Pestage to take a seat and appraised him.
“Events unfolded as you assured they would,” Pestage said when Palpatine nodded for him to speak. “Organa was very predictable. My intervention was minimal.”
“Senator Organa was willing to allow Fang Zar to escape, you mean.”
“It certainly seemed that way.”
Palpatine considered it. “He may bear watching in the future. But at present we won’t make an issue of it. And Senator Zar?”
Pestage sighed with meaning. “Gravely wounded. Perhaps dead.”
“Pity. Does Organa know?”
“Yes. He was very troubled by the outcome.”
“And Lord Vader?”
“Even more troubled by the outcome.”
Palpatine allowed a grin of satisfaction. “Even better.”
Returned to its astral sanctuary, the Drunk Dancer drifted in space.
From the hatch to medbay, a 2-1B droid hovered out to report that it had been able to save Jula, but that Fang Zar had died on the operating table.
“Damage sustained by major vessels that supply the heart was too extensive to repair, sir,” the droid told Shryne. “Everything that could be done, was done.”
Shryne looked in on Jula, who was heavily sedated.
“I dragged you right back into it,” she said weakly.
He pushed her hair off her forehead. “There might have been other forces at work.”
“Don’t say that, Roan. We just need to get farther away.”
He smiled with effort. “I’ll ask Archyr about outfitting the ship with an intergalactic drive.”
He let her drift into sleep and went to his bunk. Whenever he shut his eyes, he would see the trajectory of Vader’s blade; would see it slicing through Zar, through Jula … He didn’t need to shut his eyes to recall how it had felt to be overwhelmed by Vader’s ability to use the Force.
To use the power of the dark side.
A Sith.
Shryne was certain now.
A Sith in service to Emperor Palpatine.
That was the revelation he couldn’t banish.
Count Dooku might as well have won the war, save for the fact that in place of independent systems, free trade, and the rest, the galaxy answered to the exclusive rule of Palpatine.
But how? Shryne asked himself. How had it happened?
Had Palpatine’s alliance with Vader been brought about by the death of the Chosen One? Had Vader—Darth Vader—killed Anakin Skywalker? Had he struck a deal with Palpatine beforehand, promising Palpatine unlimited power in exchange for sanctioning Vader’s murder of the Chosen One and the elimination of the Jedi, thus tipping the galaxy fully to the dark side?
Was it any wonder, then, that beings were fleeing for the far-flung reaches of known space?
And was it any wonder that Shryne had lacked the strength to alter the course of Vader’s lightsaber? He had thought of his diminished abilities as a personal failure—owing to the fact that he had lost his faith in the Jedi order, allowed his two Padawans to die, grown thought-bound—when, in fact, it was the Force as the Jedi had known it that had been defeated.
On the one hand, it meant that Shryne’s transition into regular life could probably proceed more smoothly than he had thought; by contrast, that regular life meant existing in a world where evil had triumphed and ruled.
In the antechamber of his private retreat, Sidious, dressed in a dark blue cowled robe, paced in front of the curved window wall. Vader stood rigidly at the center of the room, his gloved hands crossed in front of him.
“It appears you attended to our little problem on Alderaan, Lord Vader,” Sidious said.
“Yes, Master. Fang Zar need no longer concern you.”
“I know I should feel some sense of relief. But in fact, I’m not entirely pleased with the outcome. Zar’s death could arouse sympathy in the Senate.”
Vader stirred. “He left me no recourse.”
Sidious came to a halt and turned toward Vader. “No recourse? Why didn’t you simply apprehend him, as I asked?”
“He made the mistake of attempting to flee.”
“But you against someone like Fang Zar? It hardly seems an equitable match, Lord Vader.”
“Zar was not alone,” Vader said with venom. “What’s more, if you don’t like the way …”
Suddenly intrigued, Sidious moved closer. “Ah, what’s this? Allowing your words to trail off—as if I can’t see their destination.” Anger showed in his yellow eyes. “As if I can’t see the thought behind them!”
Vader said nothing.
“Perhaps you’re not enjoying your new station in life, is that it? Perhaps you tire already of executing my commands.” Sidious stared at him. “Perhaps you think you’re better suited to occupy the throne than I am. Is that it, Lord Vader? If so, then admit as much!”
Breathing deeply, Vader remained silent for a moment more. “I am but an apprentice. You are the Master.”
“Interesting that you refrain from calling me your Master.”
Vader inclined his head to Sidious. “I meant nothing by it, my Master.”
Sidious sneered. “Perhaps you wish you could strike me down, is that it?”
“No, Master.”
“What stops you from doing so? Obi-Wan was once your Master, and you were certainly prepared to kill him. Even if you failed.”
Vader clenched his right hand. “Obi-Wan did not understand the power of the dark side.”
“And you do?”
“No, Master. Not yet. Not fully.”
“And that’s why you don’t try to strike me down? Because I possess powers you lack?” Sidious lifted his arms, hands deployed like claws, as if to summon and hurl Sith lightning. “Because you know that I could easily overwhelm the delicate electrical systems of your suit.”
Vader stood his ground. “I don’t fear death, Master.”
Sidious grinned maliciously. “Then why go on living, my young apprentice?”
Vader looked down at him. “To learn to become more powerful.”
Sidious lowered his hands. “Then I ask you one final time, Lord Vader. Why not strike me down?”
“Because you are my path to power, Master,” Vader said. “Because I need you.”
Sidious narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Just like I needed my Master—for a time.”
“Yes, Master,” Vader said finally. “For a time.”
“Good. Very good.” Sidious smiled in satisfaction. “And now you are ready to release your anger.”
“Your fugitive Jedi, my apprentice,” Sidious said. “They are traveling to Kashyyyk.” He tipped his head to one side. “Perhaps, Lord Vader, they hope to lay a trap for you.”
Vader clenched his hands. “That would be my most fervent wish, my Master.”
Sidious clamped his hands on Vader’s upper arms. “Then go to them, Lord Vader. Make them sorry they didn’t hide while they had the chance!”