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A shudder ran down Brakiss's spine. He tried to feel the intense dark force crackling from the core of the Imperial transport ship. The Emperor, he knew, must be in there somewhere.

Through the voice pickup mounted in the docking bay, Brakiss heard a clanking, slamming sound. Two pairs of squat, powerful workerdroids tromped down the wide extendedramp, carrying an enormously heavy isolation chamber. The worker droids, little more than the powerful arms and legs mounted on a stocky body core, hauled their burden without complaint.

The droids were gentle with their cargo, moving smoothly, carefully, despite the immense power in their hydraulic limbs. They carried the huge tank off the Imperial ship and into the docking bay. Side panels on the isolation chamber's black riveted walls blinked with multicolored lights; computer displays showed life monitors and external communications.

The four red guards surrounded the chamber, looking protective and menacing. Then they marched toward the broad doors-two in front of the chamber, two behind-into the main core of the Shadow Academy.

Brakiss hurried to open the doors for them, but somehow the computer-locked seals were automatically broken before he could do so.

The doors slammed open, as if controlled by the Emperor's dark side powers.

The red guards strode forward, still surrounding the worker droids. The huge isolation tank hissed and buzzed and bleeped as a thousand electronic systems monitored its supremely important occupant.

Brakiss stopped in front of the foremost pair of Imperial guards.

"Greetings. I am Master Brakiss of the Shadow Academy."

The leader of the red guards turned his armored head, and Brakiss felt a cold scrutiny through the black eyeslit. "You will leave us alone. We have important work, and we require privacy. You may guide us to our chambers-and then leave."

Brakiss could barely contain his dismay.

"But... I am the Master of the Shadow Academy."

The red guard said, "And the Emperor is the master of the galaxy. He wishes privacy for now. We suggest that you do not displease him."

Brakiss backed away, bowing quickly. "I have no wish to displease the Emperor. Forgive my impudence."

After Brakiss indicated the quarters to which the visitors had been assigned-the plushest and most spacious accommodations aboard the station-the red guards and worker droids marched into the chambers, leaving Brakiss alone out in the corridor.

He felt belittled, insignificant, stepped on, as if all of his accomplishments and work meant nothing to the Emperor. It baffled him.

What could be the purpose of it? He frowned as thoughts whirled inside his head.

The Emperor had originally died in the destruction of the second Death Star, but six years after his defeat, Palpatine had been resurrected in a series of clones, which had also-presumably-been destroyed.

Now, after observing the isolation tank, the secrecy, the inexplicable behavior of the four Imperial guards, Brakiss felt a new and deeper fear coil through his body. He wondered if something could be wrong, if the Emperor could perhaps be in failing health again....

If that was the case, the Second Imperium was indeed in great trouble.

- ----------------

AS A FORMER TIE pilot, Qorl had been trained in the Imperial way, with loyalties and duties and responses drilled into him. No questions, only orders. His mind had been programmed to turn him into a perfect fighting machine for the Empire.

The cornerstone of that training had been discipline. And one thing Qorl knew: the young man who stood before him was not disciplined.

He wondered if perhaps Brakiss and Tamith Kai had been too hasty in accepting Norys and his band of young ruffians from Coruscant to be trained as stormtroopers and pilots. nine, the battles ahead to recapture lost glory, to reclaim stolen territory, would require every set of capable hands for the Second Imperium. But even if Qorl did manage to turn the rest of the Lost Ones gang into serviceable