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“You have one hour,” Kyp said, then signed off.

On Carida, in the main citadel of the Imperial military training center, Ambassador Furgan looked down at his comm officer, frowning with lips the color of fresh bruises. “Check that boy’s words, Lieutenant Dauren. I want to know the capabilities of that weapon.”

A stormtrooper lieutenant marched in with a precise military stride that sent shivers of admiration down Furgan’s spine. “Report,” he said to the captain.

The helmet speaker amplified the stormtrooper’s voice. “Colonel Ardax announces that his assault team is ready to depart for the planet Anoth,” he said. “We have eight MT-AT vehicles loaded into the Dreadnaught Vendetta, along with a full compliment of troops and weaponry.”

Furgan tapped his fingers on the polished console in front of him. “It seems an extravagant effort to kidnap a baby and overcome a single woman who’s watching him—but this is a Jedi baby, and I will not underestimate the defenses the Rebels may have emplaced. Tell Colonel Ardax to prepare his team for immediate departure. I have a minor irritation that needs to be dealt with here—and then we can go fetch a young, malleable replacement for the Emperor.”

The stormtrooper saluted, whirled on one polished boot, and exited through the chamber doors.

“Ambassador,” the comm officer said, scanning readouts, “we know from our spy network that the Rebels had a stolen Imperial weapon called the Sun Crusher, which can supposedly trigger the explosion of a star. And there was a mysterious multiple supernova in the Cauldron Nebula less than a week ago—just as the intruder claims.”

Furgan felt a thrill of anticipation as his suspicions were confirmed. If he could get his hands on the Sun Crusher and the Jedi baby, he would have more power at his disposal than any of the squabbling warlords in the Core Systems! Carida could perhaps become the center of a blossoming new Empire—with Furgan at its helm as regent.

“While the Sun Crusher pilot is distracted and awaiting news of his brother,” Furgan said, “we shall mount a full-fledged assault to cripple his craft. We can’t let such an opportunity escape us.”

Kyp stared at the Sun Crushers chronometer, growing angrier with each ticking interval. If it weren’t for the hope of learning news about Zeth, Kyp would have launched one of his four remaining resonance torpedoes into Carida’s sun and backed off to watch the system explode in a white-hot supernova.

With a surge of static, the Caridan comm officer’s image appeared before him, contrite and businesslike. “To the pilot of the Sun Crusher—you are Kyp Durron, brother of Zeth, whom we recruited on the colony world Deyer?” The officer spoke with a plodding voice, enunciating each word with unnecessary precision.

“I gave you that information already. What have you learned?”

The comm officer seemed to fade out of focus. “We regret that your brother did not survive initial military training. Our exercises are very strenuous, designed to discourage all but the best candidates.”

Kyp’s ears filled with a roar like rushing water. He had expected the news, but confirmation sent despair through him. “What … what were the circumstances of his death?”

“Checking,” the comm officer said. Kyp waited and waited. “During a mountain survival tour he and his team were snowed in by a sudden blizzard. He appears to have frozen to death. There is some indication he made a heroic sacrifice so other members of his team could survive. I have the full details in a file. I can upload it if you like.”

“Yes,” Kyp said, his mouth dry. “Give me everything.” He recalled an image of his brother: two boys throwing small reed boats into the water and watching them drift toward the marshes—then the look on Zeth’s face after stormtroopers had crashed into their home and dragged him away.

“This will take a moment,” the comm officer said.

Kyp watched the data scroll across his screens. He thought of Exar Kun, the ancient Lord of the Sith who had shown him