“Two that I can see. A human male at the bar, brown jacket, long black hair. To my right, a human male in a long black coat and gloves.”

“You sure?” He nodded as if he was agreeing with something she said.

“Mostly.”

“How do we play it?” he asked her.

Funny how they so easily fell back into old roles. She giving the orders and he obeying them.

“We play dumb and make for the spaceport. We’ll evaluate as we go. Then …”

“Then?”

Her hand went under her cloak, to the hilt of her lightsaber. “Then we improvise.”

He took mental stock of all the weapons he bore and their location on his person.

“Good enough,” he said, and they headed for the exit.

Chapter 7

THE SHUTTLE TOOK Eleena and Malgus skyward to Malgus’s cruiser, Valor. Malgus stared out one of the viewports as they broke through the atmosphere. He felt Eleena’s eyes on him but did not turn to her. His thoughts were on the Force, on the Empire, and how the two seemed to be diverging before his eyes. The question for him was singular—what would he do about it?

The pilot’s voice carried over the speaker. “Darth Malgus, Darth Angral wishes to speak to you.”

Malgus cocked his head in a question. He looked to Eleena but she looked away, out a viewport at the receding surface of Coruscant.

“Put him through.”

The small vidscreen in the shuttle’s passenger compartment lit up and projected a holographic image of Darth Angral. He sat at the same desk in the Chancellor’s office from which he had previously lectured Malgus. Malgus wondered if Adraas remained there still.

“My lord,” Malgus said, though the words felt false.

“Darth Malgus, I see you have recovered your … companion. I am pleased for you.”

“I am returning her to Valor, then I will return to the surface to assist—”

Angral held up a hand and shook his head. “There is no need for that, old friend. Your presence on Coruscant is no longer necessary. Instead, I need you to command the blockade and ensure the safety of the hyperspace lanes.”

“My lord, any naval officer could—”

“But I am ordering you to do this, Darth Malgus.”

Malgus stared at the image of Darth Angral for a long while before he trusted himself to answer. “Very well, Darth Angral.”

He cut off the connection, and the image sank back into the screen.

A headache rooted in the base of his skull. He could feel the veins in his head pulsing, each beat amplifying his disillusionment, his growing rage.