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“I take it you favor Arkanian cloning technology, then,” said Vader.

“As good as the Kaminoans’, sir.” He was nervous; he would have been stupid if he hadn’t been. “And a full year’s lead time to adult, as well—we don’t rush the process. We guarantee a stable product.”

“Are you prepared to attempt recloning our existing Fett template?”

“If you want us to, yes. It’s not a genotype we’ve worked with before, so there might be uncertainties. And there’s a higher failure rate with secondary cloning, but we would certainly put all our expertise into it.”

“I would appreciate it if you’d try. They’ve proved excellent troops, especially in terms of discipline.”

Vader ran the fingertip of his glove down the permaglass of one vat and stared at the adult soldier forming within it. The Kaminoans decanted their clones as juveniles and matured them naturally: he wondered what made more difference in the long run, the quality of the template or the training. He didn’t care for shortcuts, not with an entire division’s efficiency hanging on a single selection. But he wasn’t a scientist, and this was one area where he would have to rely on his uniquely motivational leadership to get the job done.

As he concentrated on the form floating in the liquid, trailing a web of fine tubes, Vader saw himself for a moment: burned, barely alive, mutilated, rescued, rebuilt. He wondered whether beyond the external appearance of a Sith droid there might be more that was shaping him in another’s image. And he could still feel two things in the Force above all others: Palpatine’s saber at his back, and the less distinctive shape of a threat that was physically much, much nearer.

“So we spread the risk,” he said, and shook his equally divided attention away from both vat and threat for a moment. “Reclone a Fett template, and continue with this batch. And we’ll ask Lieutenant Lekauf if he’d be so kind as to provide a tissue sample of his own for you to work upon.”

Lekauf, standing with one hand on his unclipped holster, inclined his head deferentially. “Thank you, Lord Vader. It’s an honor indeed.” His pride and pleasure were tangible. And at Vader’s side, he stood almost exactly as tall as a Fett clone. He would do.

“Would you care for some hospitality, Lord Vader?” said the new and nervous head of Arkanian Micro. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his face fell and his gaze fixed for a few awkward moments on Vader’s mouth grille. Then he looked from mouth to eyepiece, clearly thinking that his promotion would be exceptionally short-lived.

People were so transparent.

“I regret that I have other business to attend to,” said Vader. A moment of graciousness contrasted exquisitely with summary execution, light and dark, combining to achieve a balanced outcome. Arkanian Micro would never present the Empire with any production problems now. “I’m looking for someone.” Lekauf took a step forward as if to accompany him, but Vader held up a gloved finger. “You have a sample to contribute, Lieutenant. I can handle this on my own.”

He could. He didn’t even need a map of the city: he would find the man he was looking for because the man was also looking for him.

The last assassin stalking him had a distinctive effect on the Force. Vader tested, probing carefully, letting the impression wash through him.

It was a Dark Jedi. It was what he should have expected of his Master. This one would at least test him. And in his heart of hearts, Vader felt that he wanted to pass the test for his own sake, not Palpatine’s.

Your hatred will make you strong.

Vader slipped along the passageway that connected Arkanian Micro’s management suite to the large courtyard at the center of the facility. It was a square of perfectly manicured lawn fringed with identical trees whose crowns were clipped into precise cube shapes. A fountain formed of a single spout of water bubbling over a pyramid of smooth stones provided soothing ambient sound.

The last thing Vader