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The Emperor went back to sipping his water, and Lekauf still stood motionless. He wouldn’t sit unless Vader was seated. Vader was used to that now and occasionally had to order the man to sit when it was clear he needed to.

“Call your wife, Lekauf,” said Vader. “Tell her when you will be arriving.”

There was a brief flare of excitement in Lekauf’s spirit that illuminated the Force for a brief moment. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

Lekauf saluted and disappeared through the hatch toward the cockpit. Master and apprentice remained silent until he was out of earshot.

“You constantly surprise me with your capacity for…compassion,” said Palpatine, somehow shaping the word into an insult

“Motivation,” said Vader, daring to correct Palpatine. “There would be no point in denying Lekauf such a small thing. Exercising power for the sake of it achieves nothing. Knowing when to let it go does.”

“Making people want to please you is an important skill,” said Palpatine. “You are becoming adept at it. Fascinating, is it not? To see that desire for approval?”

Ah, he enjoyed it. It was his sport. This was more than the exercise of political power. He liked to see people, helpless lesser people, in his thrall.

I no longer wish to please you, my Master. Vader decided he was content to be a simpler man, relying on strength and clarity. Your need for games will one day be your undoing—now I know where you weakness lies. I will use it when the time is right.

Vader settled down in the seat opposite—normally the first officer’s—and occupied his time catching up with reports from Imperial bases in the Outer Rim.

It should have been a short, uneventful flight. And it was, right up to the time when something tingled at the back of his throat and he looked up, hand reaching instinctively for his lightsaber. Then the red action stations alarm lit up the bulkhead, and the warning klaxon deafened him.

Palpatine, still all glacial calm, placed his glass carefully on the nearest table and opened up the comlink to the cockpit.

“What is the problem?” he asked.

There was nothing but the crackle of static from the other end of the link. Vader was already at the hatch, his Force-senses tearing their way through what seemed like layers of padding and smoke to feel clearly what had been hidden from him by a concerted effort. The Dark Jedi were in revolt, struggling to screen their intentions from him, but all he needed to know was that they had no plans to be loyal to him.

They were probably coming for him.

Cuis clones were still on their donor’s mission, it seemed.

Vader strode down the passage to the cockpit, lightsaber drawn, the pulsing red action stations light reflecting off his armor. He could hear blasterfire. He opened his comlink. “Lekauf, what’s happening?”

“The Cuis clones killed the pilots and seized the entire forward section of the ship, sir.” The b-dappp of a blaster bolt interrupted the lieutenant. “It’s just me, my clones, and the navigation officer back here. We’re trying to blast the hatches open at the ten-meter bulkhead.”

“Wait for me.”

“I don’t think you should come down here, sir.”

“I will deal with it. They want me.”

“Sheyvan seems to want the Emperor, sir, not you.”

Vader felt the shuttle lurch as if it had made a sudden course correction. He strode back to the day cabin and checked the navigation display repeater to check the heading; the shuttle was now traveling toward the Outer Rim. Palpatine was still sitting calmly in his seat, his lightsaber hilt on his lap.

A thought crossed Vader’s mind. He phrased it carefully. “Is this a live-fire exercise you saw fit not to mention to me, Master?”

“It is not,” said Palpatine.

Another of his games, though. Perhaps he has tasked the Cuis clones to kill me. “You are in danger, Master.”

“I can handle seven Dark Jedi, Lord Vader. What neither of us can handle, however, is the vacuum of space. So let us ensure there is no hull breach.”

“Seven,” said Vader. “You include your own Hand, then.”

“Either Sheyvan is dead, or