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And when he destroyed the Rebel fleet—and Darth Vader along with it—the Emperor would have no choice but to forgive him. He would take his rightful place at the Emperor's side.

It was time to put the plan into action. He activated the comm system, and opened a channel to Darth Vader's private line. Only a few people in the galaxy knew how to reach the Dark Lord directly. But Soresh had always known more than people suspected.

Darth Vader's inky black hood appeared on the screen. His heavy, rhythmic breathing seemed so close, Soresh could almost imagine the puff of hot air against his ear. He nearly shuddered, but forced himself to remain steady. Vader couldn't hurt him now.

"You cannot evade me for long," Vader said. The deep, rumbling vibration of his voice rippled through Soresh. He remembered the rumors he had heard, that Vader could suck the life out of someone with a mere thought, even through a viewscreen. Even from halfway across the galaxy.

Silly stories, Soresh reminded himself. Show no fear.

"I don't plan to for much longer," he said. "After all, I have something you want. And if you follow my instructions to the letter, I might let you have it."

"All I want is your corpse," Vader said. "And soon, I shall have it."

The transmission cut out.

Soresh smiled. Perfect. The comm operated on an encrypted channel, but Vader would easily trace its source to the Sixela system. Which meant that he would be right in the neighborhood when Soresh was finally ready for him.

Fear and rumor were powerful weapons, and Vader used them well. But they were nothing against real weapons, and Soresh had one of the most powerful ones in the galaxy under his control. He suspected that even Vader didn't know about Maw Installation, the secret research base devoted to creating superweapons. Grand Moff Tarkin had established and supervised it. Its secrets had died with him. But Soresh knew, because Soresh had made it his business to know everything. Including the existence and location of Maw Installation—and which of its scientists could be easily blackmailed.

As an Imperial Commander he had been in charge of following the flow of credits, making sure all contracts were paid in full, all docs were in order. It was a job few respected. A job for a weak man, they'd thought. They didn't understand that Soresh's job was information. And the only thing more powerful than information was the weapon being built at Maw Installation.

The weapon whose prototype was just on the other side of the wall. Soresh couldn't unleash the weapon on the Rebel base itself—not until he was sure it would work. But it had been so simple to lure the Rebel fleet to him. Now the weapon sat in its launch bay, waiting for its moment. It was an instrument of total destruction.

Just like me, Soresh thought. Come find me, Vader. Come and meet your destiny.

And your doom.

It was not possible. Not possible that Han was dead. That Chewbacca was dead. Leia was dead. That Luke would never see any of them again.

It was not possible.

But he believed it was true.

Soresh had taught him that anything was possible here. Anything except escape—

anything except hope.

I'm a Jedi, Luke told himself. I have the power of the Force.

But what good was that? Even if he knew how to use his powers, he didn't know what he would do with them. Ben had shown him how to levitate small objects, how to deflect laserblasts with his eyes closed. But surely even Ben didn't have the power to escape from a place like this. Even Ben couldn't save his friends, if his friends were already dead.

Ben would tell me to be strong, Luke thought.

"Stay strong," he whispered, as if hearing the words out loud would make them easier to follow. But his voice was weak, and it only reminded him that he, too, was weak. If only Obi-Wan were here to tell him. To guide him, to show him how to save himself. If only he could imagine Ben's voice assuring him that he would survive this, then maybe he would believe it.

Luke closed his eyes, trying to summon the memory of his old friend.