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But Brakiss had given him command of the Shadow Academy's new Force-wielders who would be the vanguard of the battle to reclaim the galaxy.

He himself would lead the Dark Jedi strike force, dropping like death from the skies to obliterate Master Skywalker's trainees.

Zekk drew a deep breath, smelled the metallic tang in the cold air. He heard coolants pumping, engines powering up, the clatter of stormtrooper armor, preparatory signals as systems were locked down. They were ready to launch.

Zekk turned to his group of Force-talented warriors. He wore his crimson-lined black cape and his leather armor; his lightsaber hung clipped at his side, waiting to be used.

He had secured his long dark hair in a neat ponytail, and his emerald-green eyes flashed at those gathered around him.

"Feel the Force move through you," he said to the other trainees. They stood with their jaws set, their eyes alert, eager for battle. They had been trained for this.

He gestured to the waiting platform, and the Dark Jedi moved with a fluid motion as they entered the armored vessel. "We must strike the Jedi academy now, before we lose our element of surprise."

The TIE pilot's helmet fit perfectly on his gray-haired head. Along with the breathing mask, goggles, black flight suit, padded gloves, and heavy boots, the uniform seemed to transport Qorl back to a different time, a time when he had been much younger... a pilot for the first Empire.

Years ago, he had flown with his wing of TIE fighters from the original Death Star to attack the desperate fleet of Rebel X-wings.

He had been shot down in combat, spiralling down to crash-land in the wilds of Yavin 4. When he had looked behind him, to his absolute horror and disbelief Qorl had watched the invincible Death Star blow up, leaving him stranded on the miserable little moon.

After recovering from his injuries, Qorl had lived like a hermit for over twenty years until four young Jedi trainees had stumbled upon him...

setting in motion the events that had returned him to the Second Imperium.

And now, Qorl found himself boarding another TIE fighter, launching from another battle station-once more ready to defeat the Rebels. This time, though, he was sure it would end differently. This time the Empire would make no mistakes.

Qorl stood in front of his wing of twelve TIE fighters. Crowded into the side of the launching bay, the small fighters would take off as soon as the battle platform descended.

He turned to his troops, all of them unproven fighters, taken from the ranks of the most ambitious new stormtrooper trainees.

The new pilots had never seen combat. They had only practiced, performing simulation after simulation-but he knew they were itching for a real fight. The pilots stood beside their ships, clothed in identical black flight suits and helmets.

One new pilot fidgeted with obvious eagerness, glancing toward his TIE

fighter, studying the laser cannon turrets, anxious to be off. He finally stepped forward. The fighter removed his helmet and held it against his chest. Even before seeing the young man's wide face, though, Qorl knew it was the broad-shouldered Norys, former leader of the Lost Ones gang.

"Excuse me, sir-I have a suggestion," Norys said. "In light of my superior performance during the simulations, since I scored better than any of these others, I think I should be the one to lead this wing."

Qorl quelled his anger. "I... understand your reasons, Norys. You have done excellent work in your cross-training as a TIE pilot and stormtrooper. You are eager to learn and, Presumably, to serve the Second Imperium.

But I must turn down your request this time."

"On what basis?" Sensing the challenge in the young man's voice, Qorl kept his answer firm and direct.

"On the basis that Brakiss chose me to command this mission. If you prefer not to follow orders, however..." He shrugged, leaving the implication hanging in the air between them.

The boy was rude and so often insubordinate that if he hadn't shown such a true