Time slipped away from him as he allowed himself to be swallowed up in thoughts. Possibilities for conquest engrossed him, and he ran them over and over in his head, contemplating the complete destruction of the Rebels and his former mentor, Luke Skywalker. Such imaginings soothed him. Resting his elbows on the polished black desk, Brakiss touched his fingertips together and smiled.
Suddenly, a startling signal destroyed his concentration like a thunderbolt. The potent alarm pulsed again, and he used his much-needed Jedi skills to calm himself. “This is Brakiss,” he responded.
“Qorl here,” a voice replied. An image appeared on the flatscreen communicator built into his desk. The old TIE pilot seemed rattled—and that surprised Brakiss even more than the alarm had. Qorl was one of the steadiest officers in the Second Imperium.
“We have a coded message coming into the Shadow Academy, sir. It carries the highest level of encryption. Every marking indicates that the transmission is of the utmost importance. You must receive the message yourself and respond personally.”
Brakiss blinked. “Any indication of the sender’s identity?” His thoughts whirled. Tamith Kai and Zekk had already departed on their mission to Kashyyyk, but even they were incapable of sending such a high-level message.
“No indication, sir,” Qorl said, “but I would recommend that you respond without delay.”
“I’m on my way,” Brakiss said, and switched off, propelling himself out of his chair in one fluid motion.
He raced through the curved metallic corridors, taking an automated lift platform to the transmitting and receiving tower, which contained the machinery that cast a cloaking field around the spike-ringed station.
Several stormtroopers stood alert as Brakiss swept into the transmitting tower. Qorl worked at the receiving stations, scanning computerized readouts and recording the coded signal. Brakiss noted that the man used his biological right hand, letting his bulky robotic limb hang motionless at his side. Qorl blinked at the Shadow Academy leader. “They have begun transmitting again, Lord Brakiss,” he said. “They seem to be quite impatient.”
“All right, let’s input the decryption routine.” Standing beside Qorl, Brakiss had to think for a moment to summon the correct string of symbols and numbers, then keyed in his password so that the Shadow Academy computers could translate the high-level coded message.
Qorl handed Brakiss a dangling headset. “The message is for your ears only. Listen on this channel.” Qorl helped Brakiss mount the earphones and microphone snugly against his head.
Brakiss listened to the crackle of static as the convoluted message ran through its code-deciphering algorithms and finally resolved itself into coherent words. The voice pounded against his eardrums, harsh, almost reptilian, dripping with evil.
Brakiss’s eyes widened, and fear drove a spike through his mind. He cleared his throat twice before he could respond. “Yes, my lord,” he finally answered. “Yes, at once.” He drew a deep breath to continue, but the sender terminated the signal. Brakiss heard only static.
He stood rigid, using all of his Jedi strengths to keep himself from trembling. Qorl waited beside him, leathery face emotionless, his eyes unblinking. Only a slight furrow across the TIE pilot’s forehead showed how concerned he was.
Brakiss spoke quietly, looking at Qorl but knowing that the stormtrooper guards were also listening intently. “The Emperor,” he said hoarsely, “the Emperor is coming here!”
An ominous transport shuttle dropped out of hyperspace in the vicinity of the Shadow Academy. The shuttle was an Imperial design, the Emperor’s private escort ship, armored with tarnished hull plates. Its configuration was similar to a triangular Lambda-class transport, except that this craft bore very special weaponry, sensing devices, and ultrapowerful hyperdrive engines. Even such extreme modifications, though, were of little consequence when compared to the importance of the passenger it carried.
Brakiss stood within the hangar bay, struggling to drive back his anxiety. In all this time he had never met the Emperor face-to-face, despite his unwavering service to the Second Imperium.
The Great Leader of the Second Imperium, Emperor Palpatine, must somehow have escaped death years earlier—though Brakiss had been sure the Emperor had been destroyed … several times, in fact. He did not know what secret Palpatine had used, or how he had managed to restore himself to life, but Brakiss didn’t care—all that mattered was that the Second Imperium was in the most capable hands imaginable.
The comm buzzed and Qorl’s voice made an announcement. “Lord Brakiss, the Emperor’s private transport has just come out of hyperspace. I await your orders.”
Brakiss leaned closer to the wall speaker. “Very well, drop the Shadow Academy’s cloaking field and transmit our greetings to Emperor Palpatine. We are honored by his visit.”
“Yes, sir,” Qorl said, signing off.
Brakiss could feel no difference, not even through the Force, as the invisibility shield dissolved around the station. He stood with an honor guard of stormtroopers inside the cleared docking bay. The transparent atmosphere containment field flickered.
Brakiss stared out into open space, watching the awesome craft approach. The stormtroopers stood more rigidly, their armor locking into place, boots clicking together.
The Emperor’s transport followed Qorl’s signal. The three-bladed shuttle glided through the atmosphere containment field, which flickered and sparked as it folded around the hull of the ship. The Imperial transport coasted to the center of the broad deck, then lowered itself to a stable position.
Brakiss swallowed a large lump in his throat. He transmitted to Qorl. “Reactivate the cloaking shield, please—we don’t want to expose ourselves any longer than necessary.”
“It is done, sir,” Qorl said.
The stormtroopers shouldered their weapons and stood in perfect ranks. Brakiss stepped forward to offer greeting, but paused when nothing happened. The Emperor’s transport remained silent except for a few hissing and ticking sounds as the ship settled. He saw no movement inside. The hatch remained stubbornly shut. Brakiss waited for any sign.
Finally, a voice boomed from loudspeakers mounted outside the Emperor’s shuttle. “Attention, all Shadow Academy personnel! The Emperor has arrived. As a security precaution, we insist that everyone depart the docking bay immediately. The Emperor has a private escort of Imperial guards and wishes no further contact at this time.”
The announcement took Brakiss completely by surprise. When he noticed that his mouth was hanging open in foolish astonishment, he closed it so quickly that his teeth clicked together. The Emperor had come to the Shadow Academy—and now Palpatine refused Brakiss’s honor escort. The Great Leader wanted to be left alone?
Brakiss realized that he had hesitated in following Palpatine’s instructions. Aghast and trying to make up for lost time, he turned and clapped his hands smartly. “You heard the orders! Everyone, about-face. Clear the docking bay. The Emperor wishes his privacy.”
The stormtroopers turned and, with a booming clatter on the metal deck, marched out of the docking bay and into the curved corridors.
“Sir,” one of the stormtroopers said, breaking ranks to stop in front of Brakiss, “I had requested to be part of the Emperor’s personal escort squad. I’ll stay here to greet him as he disembarks.”
Brakiss blinked in shock, noting the storm-trooper’s service number. He recognized Qorl’s trainee, Norys. Qorl had said the burly young man was ambitious and ill-tempered, but Brakiss was nonetheless stunned at the impertinence.
“You will follow my orders, trooper,” Brakiss snapped. “The Second Imperium has no room for those who don’t understand discipline.” He drew in a cold breath. “If I see any further instance of your failure to obey commands, you will be ejected from the airlock into space. Is that understood?”