If I ever run into that astromech again …,” Skeck said as he, Archyr, and Shryne were racing for the palace’s east entrance.

Archyr nodded in agreement. “Never a good feeling when you’re tricked by an appliance.”

His comlink enabled, Shryne was speaking with Jula.

“We’re almost there. But that’s no guarantee we can make it outside without being arrested.”

“Roan, I’m going to reposition the ship. Close to our rendezvous there’s a landing platform reserved for HoloNet correspondents.”

“What makes you think you’ll be allowed to set down?”

“No one’s going be happy about it. But the good thing about Alderaan is that no one’s going to blast us out of the sky, either.”

“Parking ticket, huh?”

“Maybe not even.”

“Then we’ll see you there,” Shryne said. “Out.”

With the ornate east entrance in sight, the three of them slowed down to survey the situation. A pair of enormous doors opened on a broad staircase; from the last step, a paved footpath led to an arched bridge that spanned a crescent of reflecting pool. On the far side of the pool, the path led directly to a gated access in the high rampart. Perhaps a hundred meters beyond the wall was the media landing platform Jula had mentioned.

Shryne scanned the beings assembled on the narrow bridge and the green lawn between it and the rampart. Ultimately his gaze found a short, dark-complectioned man with a shock of long, white beard.

“That’s Zar,” he said, pointing out the Senator to Skeck and Archyr.

“And here comes trouble,” Skeck said, indicating four Royal Guards who were hurrying for the gate, rifles slung over their shoulders.

“We need to make our move,” Archyr said. “Before any more of them show up.”

Skeck parted his long coat, reached around to the small of his back, and drew a blaster. “So much for pulling this off without a hitch.”

Shryne placed his right hand on the weapon while Skeck was checking the power level. “You might not have to use it. Those long rifles are no match for even a hand blaster, and the guards know it. Besides, they probably haven’t fired a round since the last royal funeral.”

“Yeah, but can I quote you on that?” Skeck said.

Shryne took a step toward the doors, froze, then retreated, pressing himself to the wall.

Archyr regarded him in bafflement. “What—”

“Vader,” Shryne managed.

Archyr’s eyes widened. “The black stormtrooper? Let me see—”

Shryne restrained him from moving. “He’s no stormtrooper.”

Skeck was staring at Shryne, openmouthed. “Why’s he here? For you?”

Shryne shook his head to clear it. “I don’t know. He answers directly to the Emperor.” He looked at Skeck. “He could be here for Zar.”

“Doesn’t really matter, does it,” Archyr said. “Point being, he’s here.”

Shryne reached under his coat for his blaster. “If he is here for Zar, he’s going to forget all about him when he sees me.”

Skeck planted his hands on Shryne’s shoulders. “You want to think this through?”

Shryne vouchsafed a thin smile. “I just did.”

Vader hunted the hallways of the palace, the suit’s array of sensors enhancing every sound and smell, every stray movement, his heavy cloak hooked around the hilt of his lightsaber.

The Emperor foresaw that this would happen, he told himself. That is why he sent me. Despite what he says, he is concerned about the Jedi.

Outside the palace, marchers continued to chant and circulate; inside, guards and others scurried about, stopping only to stare and move out of his path. Half of them were certainly in search of Fang Zar, and all of them were off course. But then, they lacked Vader’s sympathy for those who were pushed and pulled and otherwise manipulated by the Force.

There was also the fact that Vader knew how Jedi thought.

Sensing a subtle presence, he stopped. At the same time, someone behind him shouted:

“Vader!”

Igniting his lightsaber, Vader turned completely around.

Hands by his sides, Shryne stood at the intersection of two corridors, one of which led to the palace’s east portal, the other to the ballroom. Clearly, Zar had been found, was perhaps being moved out of the palace even then, or Shryne would not have shown himself.

“So you’re the bait,” Vader said after a moment. “It’s an old ploy, Shryne. A ploy I’ve used. And it won’t work this time.”

“I have a backup plan.”

Shryne flourished the blaster.

Vader focused on the weapon. “I see that you’ve abandoned your lightsaber.”

“But not my commitment to justice.” Shryne took a moment to glance down the hallway that led out of the palace. “You know how it is, Vader. Once a good guy, always a good guy. Then again, you probably don’t know anything about that.”

Vader advanced on him. “Don’t be too sure of yourself.”

“We’re just trying to help Zar get home,” Shryne said, retreating into the corridor. “Suppose we leave it at that.”

“The Emperor has his reasons for recalling Zar to Coruscant.”

“And you do whatever the Emperor tells you to do?”

In the intersection now, Vader could discern that Shryne was merely waiting for a chance to bolt through the doors. Well behind Shryne, on the far side of a footbridge that crossed a gentle curve of reflecting pool, one of Shryne’s armed accomplices was holding four Royal Guards at bay while the other was all but dragging Fang Zar toward a gated breach in the palace’s defensive wall, beyond which the conspirators surely had a getaway craft waiting.

Shryne fired a quick burst, then sprinted for the doorway. Behind him, his humanoid accomplices were also in motion, stunning the guards to unconsciousness and racing for the open gate.

Angling his blade, Vader deflected the bolts with intent, but by jinking and jagging Shryne managed to evade each parry. Vader leapt, his powerful prosthetic legs carrying him to the top of a broad but short flight of steps in time to see Shryne sprint across the bridge at Jedi speed, motioning to his accomplices to move Zar through the gate.

Vader leapt again, this time to the bridge, and to within only a few meters of Shryne, who spun about, dropping to one knee and firing repeatedly. This time Vader decided to show Shryne whom he was dealing with. Holding his lightsaber to one side, he raised his right hand to turn the blaster bolts.

Clearly astonished, Shryne remained on one knee, but only briefly. In an instant he had passed through the gate and was shouldering his way through the crowd outside the wall.

Vader’s final leap landed him just short of the rampart. Over the heads of the milling beings, at the forward edge of a landing platform, a woman with gray-laced black hair was gesturing frantically to Shryne and his cohorts, who were already hauling Fang Zar up the platform steps.

All too easy, Vader told himself.

Time to end it.