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“Don’t say that, Roan. We just need to get farther away.”

He smiled with effort. “I’ll ask Archyr about outfitting the ship with an intergalactic drive.”

He let her drift into sleep and went to his bunk. Whenever he shut his eyes, he would see the trajectory of Vader’s blade; would see it slicing through Zar, through Jula … He didn’t need to shut his eyes to recall how it had felt to be overwhelmed by Vader’s ability to use the Force.

To use the power of the dark side.

A Sith.

Shryne was certain now.

A Sith in service to Emperor Palpatine.

That was the revelation he couldn’t banish.

Count Dooku might as well have won the war, save for the fact that in place of independent systems, free trade, and the rest, the galaxy answered to the exclusive rule of Palpatine.

But how? Shryne asked himself. How had it happened?

Had Palpatine’s alliance with Vader been brought about by the death of the Chosen One? Had Vader—Darth Vader—killed Anakin Skywalker? Had he struck a deal with Palpatine beforehand, promising Palpatine unlimited power in exchange for sanctioning Vader’s murder of the Chosen One and the elimination of the Jedi, thus tipping the galaxy fully to the dark side?

Was it any wonder, then, that beings were fleeing for the far-flung reaches of known space?

And was it any wonder that Shryne had lacked the strength to alter the course of Vader’s lightsaber? He had thought of his diminished abilities as a personal failure—owing to the fact that he had lost his faith in the Jedi order, allowed his two Padawans to die, grown thought-bound—when, in fact, it was the Force as the Jedi had known it that had been defeated.

The flame extinguished.

On the one hand, it meant that Shryne’s transition into regular life could probably proceed more smoothly than he had thought; by contrast, that regular life meant existing in a world where evil had triumphed and ruled.

* * *

In the antechamber of his private retreat, Sidious, dressed in a dark blue cowled robe, paced in front of the curved window wall. Vader stood rigidly at the center of the room, his gloved hands crossed in front of him.

“It appears you attended to our little problem on Alderaan, Lord Vader,” Sidious said.

“Yes, Master. Fang Zar need no longer concern you.”

“I know I should feel some sense of relief. But in fact, I’m not entirely pleased with the outcome. Zar’s death could arouse sympathy in the Senate.”

Vader stirred. “He left me no recourse.”

Sidious came to a halt and turned toward Vader. “No recourse? Why didn’t you simply apprehend him, as I asked?”

“He made the mistake of attempting to flee.”

“But you against someone like Fang Zar? It hardly seems an equitable match, Lord Vader.”

“Zar was not alone,” Vader said with venom. “What’s more, if you don’t like the way …”

Suddenly intrigued, Sidious moved closer. “Ah, what’s this? Allowing your words to trail off—as if I can’t see their destination.” Anger showed in his yellow eyes. “As if I can’t see the thought behind them!”

Vader said nothing.

“Perhaps you’re not enjoying your new station in life, is that it? Perhaps you tire already of executing my commands.” Sidious stared at him. “Perhaps you think you’re better suited to occupy the throne than I am. Is that it, Lord Vader? If so, then admit as much!”

Breathing deeply, Vader remained silent for a moment more. “I am but an apprentice. You are the Master.”

“Interesting that you refrain from calling me your Master.”

Vader inclined his head to Sidious. “I meant nothing by it, my Master.”

Sidious sneered. “Perhaps you wish you could strike me down, is that it?”

“No, Master.”

“What stops you from doing so? Obi-Wan was once your Master, and you were certainly prepared to kill him. Even if you failed.”

Vader clenched his right hand. “Obi-Wan did not understand the power of the dark side.”

“And you do?”

“No, Master. Not yet. Not fully.”

“And that’s why you don’t try to strike me down? Because I possess powers you lack?” Sidious lifted his arms, hands deployed like claws, as if to summon