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Sidious didn’t move. “Eventually you will come to see that power is joy. The path to the dark side is not without terrible risk, but it is the only path worth following. It matters not how we appear, in any case, or who is sacrificed along the way. We have won, and the galaxy is ours.”

Vader’s eyes searched Sidious’s face. “Did you promise as much to Count Dooku?”

Sidious bared his teeth, but only briefly. “Darth Tyranus knew what he risked, Lord Vader. If he had been stronger in the dark side, you would be dead, and he would be my right hand.”

“And if you should encounter someone stronger than I am?”

Sidious almost smiled. “There is none, my son, even though your body has been crippled. This is your destiny. We have seen to that. Together we are unconquerable.”

“I wasn’t strong enough to defeat Obi-Wan,” Vader said.

Sidious had had enough.

“No, you weren’t,” he said. “So just imagine what Yoda might have done to you.” He flung his words with brutal honesty. “Obi-Wan triumphed because he went to Mustafar with a single intention in mind: to kill Darth Vader. If the Jedi order had showed such resolute intention, if it had remained focused on what needed to be done rather than on fears of the dark side, it might have proved more difficult to topple and eradicate. You and I might have lost everything. Do you understand?”

Vader looked at him, breathing deeply. “Then I suppose I should be grateful for what little I have been able to hold on to.”

“Yes,” Sidious said curtly. “You should.”

The crew of the Drunk Dancer was every bit as surprised by their captain’s revelations as Shryne was. For most of them, though, the disclosure only explained why they had come to place so much trust in Jula’s judgment and intuition.

Shryne and the woman who claimed to be his mother were sitting in a dark alcove off the main cabin, untouched meals between them and blue-tinted holoimages to one side, allegedly showing a nine-month-old Roan taking his first steps outside the modest dwelling that had been his home for just over three years. He had never enjoyed seeing likenesses of himself, and the images merely served to increase his embarrassment over the entire situation.

Master Nat-Sem had once told him that vanity was the cause of such uneasiness, and had ordered Shryne to spend a full week staring at his own reflection in a mirror, in an effort to teach Shryne that what he saw was no more who he was than a map of a place could be considered the territory itself.

Clear across the cabin, Eyl Dix, Filli Bitters, and Starstone were huddled around the ship’s communications suite, into which Filli had managed to patch Bol Chatak’s beacon transceiver, and the Drunk Dancer was now transmitting on frequencies Jedi would scan in case of trouble, or if attempting to establish contact with other Jedi. The talented young slicer, whose face was nearly as colorless as his short spiked hair, was still trying his best to engage Starstone’s interest, but she was either ignoring his attempts or simply too focused on awaiting a return signal to be aware of them.

With her dark complexion and black curls, and Bitters’s towheaded brilliance, they made for an interesting-looking couple, and Shryne wondered if perhaps Starstone hadn’t unwittingly stumbled on a new path to follow.

Elsewhere in the main cabin, Brudi, Archyr, and Skeck were playing cards at a circular table, labor droids whirring in to clean up their dropped snacks and spilled drinks. All in all it was a pleasant setup, Shryne decided. Almost like a family living room, with the kids playing games, the adults watching competition sports on the HoloNet, and the hired help in the kitchen preparing a big lunch for everyone.

As a Jedi, he had scant familiarity with any of it. The Temple had been more like a huge dormitory, and one was constantly aware of being in service to a cause greater than one’s family or oneself. Frequently there were classes or briefings to attend, chores that needed completing as part of one’s training, and long meditative or lightsaber combat sessions with