Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 01_ Betrayal - Aaron Allston [187]
“Good.” Ben sat, not speaking, for a few minutes, drumming his fingers restlessly on the arm of the copilot’s chair. “It’s not fair. That they died.”
“No, it’s not. But that happens. It’s life. We just have to find a way…to make ourselves stronger because of it.”
Ben nodded. “I guess you’re right.”
CORUSCANT
“He exists.” Luke looked up from his terminal. On its screen scrolled updated reports of the engagement at Tralus, but Mara could feel that the worry on his face was caused by something else. “He finally exists, for real.”
“Your phantom enemy.”
“Yes.” Luke rose. “That must have been why we were attacked tonight—the false Jacen, the false Ben. They occupied our emotions so thoroughly that we missed the creation of—whatever he is, wherever he is. Maybe it happened close by, or there would have been no reason to divert us.” He looked in all directions, as though the smooth stone walls of the enclave interior chamber would become transparent and reveal the enemy, but they remained stubbornly opaque.
“We’ll find him,” Mara said. “And we’ll beat him.” Her attention returned to her own terminal and a smile crossed her features. “Message from Jacen and Ben. They’re coming home.”
IN HIS IMAGE
Karen Traviss
It is natural for him to want to destroy me. It is not crude mundane ambition, as it would be in an ordinary man; it is part of his growth. And of course it does not offend me—it is why I chose him. But he needs to grow still further.
—Emperor Palpatine, on his apprentice, Darth Vader
IMPERIAL PALACE, CORUSCANT
The trooper was a stranger.
Vader had now served long enough beside the remnant of what had been the Republic’s Grand Army to know exactly how tall a cloned soldier would stand in relation to him. The crowns of their white helmets were consistently level with the mouthpiece of his mask, every single one of them, always, without variance.
But this one barely reached his jaw.
“Take off your helmet,” said Vader.
“Sir!” the trooper responded automatically and popped the seal. He eased off the helmet, an equally unfamiliar thing with its new design of flared mouth guard, and tucked it under one arm in a practiced motion.
He was far from the reassuringly standard Fett clone. The wide pupils of his pale blue eyes were the only indication of his anxiety at being scrutinized as the potential template for a new batch of dutiful warriors.
Vader estimated that he was ten centimeters too short and ten kilos too light.
He circled the soldier a few times with slow, heavy paces that echoed around the polished gray-green walls. At first Vader had been forced by his prosthetic limbs and armor to take such deliberate strides; he was now comfortably one with the suit, but he retained the gait.
It made people wary. It announced him. It served his purpose.
He paused in front of the trooper, chest plate almost close enough to touch him, and looked down into his eyes again until they began to water and the man finally blinked. Vader didn’t even have to test him with the Force. He only needed to stand too close. It fascinated him.
He won’t hold his ground. He’s loyal and he’s competent, but he has his limits. And there’s too much at stake to be rushed into making an inferior choice.
“Dismissed,” said Vader.
The almost-adequate trooper brought his helmet around to his chest in a choreographed move with one