Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 01_ Betrayal - Aaron Allston [191]
A Thunderbolt repeater was not a close-quarters weapon. But a lightsaber was.
One man dropped instantly without his intervention. Vader lunged forward and sliced through two more, left–right. The fourth lost his arm and blaster in the same slicing movement and dropped to his knees, utterly silent, mouth open wide in frozen agony as he stared at the seared stump.
Vader brought the lightsaber down across his neck. The hangar was silent now except for the sound of his own breath. He looked down at the back of the one man he hadn’t killed. The black tunic was still smoking a little.
“Fine shot, Lekauf,” said Vader. He released his Force pressure. “I told you to stay down.”
Lekauf got to his knees and holstered his blaster. “I never rose, my lord. I can fire from a prone position, though, and you made no mention of that.”
Lekauf stood up and went to him as if to check him for injury. It suddenly struck Vader that he was solid and a good height. And he was loyal enough to step in the line of fire, and then—defy him to cover his back.
Good man. At least one possible template, then.
Vader took one step back in case Lekauf actually intended to minister to him, then looked to see where the facility staff had gone. They were huddled by the bodies near the door, silent in the way of people who were afraid they might say the wrong thing at the wrong time. More staff were edging in cautiously through both doors in the ringing silence that followed the blasterfire.
“Who’s your most senior executive?” Vader asked.
“Tef Shabiak,” said one of the technicians hoarsely.
Vader turned to Lekauf and tilted his head slightly. When your eyes weren’t visible, a gesture was necessary.
Lekauf understood perfectly. “What would you like me to do with him, Lord Vader?”
“Remove his head, please,” said Vader. “This is very poor customer service. And now I’ll see his deputy.”
Sometimes people gasped, and sometimes they didn’t. The range of reaction to horror was fascinating. Compliance was proving to be a common reaction. Lekauf walked briskly at Vader’s side but a fraction behind him as they followed a visibly agitated manager through the corridors into the heart of the cloning complex.
“If you think the company was involved in this attempt, I should—”
Vader cut him short. “I know who’s behind this, and it certainly isn’t the company.”
Lekauf’s next question hung in his silence. There was only the creak of his boots as he kept pace with his Sith Lord.
Vader answered anyway. “I need to encourage better security, or we invite an open season from now on.”
“Understood, my lord,” said Lekauf, sounding and feeling genuinely satisfied to Vader.
But more than encouraging security, executing the top executive was another eloquent statement of intent that took little effort but spoke loudly across the Empire: there would be consequences for any act that didn’t meet with Vader’s approval.
Power was as much a matter of presentation as using the dark side, Vader had learned.
In his throne room, Palpatine paused while flicking through the screens of his datapad. The Force sighed slightly: he felt it. Vader had reacted.
He had survived whatever Cuis had thrown at him. Palpatine thought he actually felt his apprentice’s sense of betrayal. He concentrated harder, searching for some hint of anger or hatred, but there was nothing, and he wondered if Vader had not yet discovered the obvious.
Palpatine drew on his reserves of patience and settled back into the chair, adjusting the cushion behind his back. He let the datapad absorb his attention again.
Vader had to take the next step. If he didn’t, Palpatine’s long search for another worthy apprentice would be a very long one indeed.
Vader stared at the tanks full of liquid.
As he passed down the rows, the tanks acted like lenses, distorting