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Brakiss would not be turned away this time.

The section reserved for the Emperor’s group seemed even dimmer than the rest of the Shadow Academy. The light had been polarized somehow, so that it contained a reddish tinge that made it difficult to see. The ambient temperature felt colder.

Two red guards stood posted at the intersection of the corridor. They towered over Brakiss as he approached, the folds of their scarlet robes gleaming in the reddish light as if they had been oiled. The guards carried force pikes, ominous-looking weapons that might simply be ornamental … but Brakiss did not want to test that theory.

“No intruders are allowed,” one of the red guards said.

Brakiss stopped short. “I believe you are ill-informed. I am Brakiss, Master of the Shadow Academy.”

“We are aware of your identity. No intruders beyond this point.”

“I am not an intruder. This is my own station,” he said, taking another bold step forward and trying to impart power to his words.

One of the guards shifted his force pike. “This station belongs to the Emperor. He holds the right to claim ownership of everything he considers valuable to his Second Imperium.”

Following that thread of argument would do him no good, Brakiss decided. “I must speak with the Emperor,” he said.

“That is impossible,” the guard answered.

“Nothing is impossible,” Brakiss countered.

“The Emperor sees no one.”

“Then let me speak to him over the comm. I’m certain he will wish to see me once he and I have had a brief discussion.”

“The Emperor has no desire for ‘a brief discussion’—with you or anyone else.”

Brakiss placed his hands on his hips. “And when did the Emperor delegate the authority to speak for him”—he spoke the words scornfully—“to his mere guards? By what right did you become his mouthpiece? I do not recognize your authority, guard. How do I know you’re not holding him hostage? How do I know that he isn’t ill or drugged?”

He crossed his arms over his robed chest. “I accept orders only from the Emperor. Now let me speak to him immediately, or I shall call forth all of my troops on this station and arrest you for mutiny against the Second Imperium.”

The two red guards stood motionless. “It is unwise to threaten us,” they said in unison.

Brakiss didn’t back down. “It is unwise to ignore me,” he replied.

“Very well,” one guard said, and turned to a comm station on the wall. He pushed a button and, though Brakiss heard no words from beneath the armored helmet, the Emperor’s voice instantly slid through the speakers, like sounds made of snakes.

“Brakiss, this is your Emperor. Your insolence annoys me.”

“I merely wish to speak with you, my lord,” he said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “You have not addressed the Shadow Academy or me since your arrival here. I am concerned for your personal well-being.”

“Brakiss, you forget your place. You can do nothing to protect me that I cannot do myself—with ten times the power.”

Brakiss felt his anger dwindling, but he clutched his pride for one last moment. “I have not forgotten my place, my lord. My place is as the Master of the Shadow Academy, to create an army of Dark Jedi for you and your Second Imperium. My place is at your side—not cast out and ignored like an insignificant bureaucrat.”

Palpatine seemed to pause before snapping a reply through the speaker. “Do not forget, Brakiss, that when this station was constructed I saw to it that explosives were planted throughout the superstructure to ensure your obedience. I can destroy this Academy on a whim. Don’t tempt me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lord,” Brakiss said, feeling his anxiety grow. “But if I am to be part of your plans of conquest, I must be consulted. I must be permitted to give my input, because I alone can provide the valuable fighters you require to defeat the Rebels and their upstart new Jedi Knights.”

The Emperor snapped, “You will learn of my plans when I wish you to learn of them! I require no advice from you or from any other. Perhaps you need to be reminded that you are merely an expendable servant. Do not demand to see me again. I will emerge from my quarters when it suits me.”

With a click like the sound of a breaking bone, the comm unit switched off. Brakiss felt worse than ever. More insignificant, more confused.

The red Imperial guards stood firmly in their positions, holding their force pikes upright. “You will depart now,” one of them said. Without replying, Brakiss spun on his heel and marched in silence down the hollow, echoing corridors of his Shadow Academy.

15

Too stunned at first to move, Jaina hung on to the edge of the hangar bay doors on the platform high above the rest of the treetops. She stared down in unwilling fascination at the spot where Garowyn had fallen through the branches. Replaying the scene in her mind, still not quite able to believe what had happened, she saw the Nightsister falling … falling.

By the time Jaina managed to tear her gaze away, Chewbacca had retrieved the speeder bike and buzzed back up toward her. With an urgent sound in his voice, he pointed to the explosions and flickers of laser cannon fire in the distant fabrication facility. TIE fighters shot overhead, pummeling the residential areas with bright energy bolts.

Chewbacca gestured with a long hairy arm, pointing to the seat behind him on the speeder bike. Jaina gulped. Surely he didn’t intend for both of them to ride that thing? The tiny vehicle was already wheezing and chugging under the Wookiee’s considerable weight.

On the other hand, the two of them had walked to the hangar bay this morning, and they had no other vehicle to take them to the besieged fabrication facility—and they had to help. There was no time to call for a bantha. She hoped her brother and her friends were all right.

Chewbacca brought the speeder bike to an unsteady hover in front of the repair bay and motioned for her to get on. Jaina squelched her reservations and climbed on behind him. She found little room to sit, and her legs were still slick from spilled lubricant, so she threw her arms around Chewie’s broad chest as far as they would go, threading her fingers through his thick fur to keep herself from sliding off.

With Jaina’s added weight, the speeder bike sank. Chewbacca revved its engine, and they took off. Though their forward progress was faster than Jaina had expected, the vehicle continued to lose altitude until it barely skimmed over the bushy treetops. The engine sputtered. Jaina could feel the toes of her boots brushing against taller branches and sprigs of leaves. The wind in her hair blew the strands wildly in every direction.

Jaina yanked her foot up to avoid an up-thrust bough, and nearly capsized the little speeder. But Chewbacca felt the change in balance and managed to compensate by shifting his weight in the other direction. Jaina clung to his fur and gratefully maneuvered herself back upright.

“Can’t we go any faster?” she shouted into his fur-covered ear. Her heart pounded, and the sweat of fear evaporated in the cold breeze of their wild flight. The Wookiee roared back at her, clearly understanding the danger their friends might be facing.

When they reached the fabrication facility, Jaina could hardly believe her eyes. Grayish white smoke curled up from half a dozen different windows and skylights in the factory. Splintered and charred wroshyr branches lay scattered about like the broken playthings of a spoiled giant. Imperial fighters still flew in formation in the skies, but they dwindled in the distance, heading back to orbit.

“Is the attack over already?” Jaina asked in disbelief. Chewbacca echoed her surprise.

The Wookiee had a hard time controlling the laboring speeder bike as they landed, and both he and Jaina tumbled off. Not bothering to check their bruises, they picked themselves up and rushed to the closest entryway, calling for Jacen, Lowie, Tenel Ka, and Sirra.