The Force Unleashed by Sean Williams Page B

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    alarm. Lights strobed painfully across the metal walls. Vader grabbed hold of the
    nearest stanchion to avoid being sucked out into space himself, but the maelstrom
    was short-lived. Within seconds-though it seemed like a small eternity-a large metal
    grate had slid down and sealed the shattered viewport shut.
    Air poured back into the room. The rasp of Vader's respirator eased.
    With one black-gloved hand at his throat, he turned back to the Emperor's hologram
    and straightened to his full height.
    "It is done," he said in a cold, leaden tone.
    "You are the apprentice, Lord Vader," the Emperor snarled. "You are my servant, my
    enforcer. Never forget your place again."
    Vader's domed head bowed. "Yes, my Master."
    The Emperor's hologram flickered and dissolved. PROXY returned to normal, looking
    stunned and shaken. Vader ignored the droid and walked to one of the intact
    viewports. He stood looking out into space, where the apprentice's limp body tumbled
    lifelessly through vacuum, surrounded by a cloud of fragmented transparisteel.
    Juno's hand had risen to her mouth without her knowing it. Starkiller had done
    nothing but obey orders, just as she had on Callos. He had been betrayed, literally
    stabbed in the back by the one he had trusted most. It wasn't fair.
    The sound of a door clanging open in the hangar was followed by the sound of booted
    feet running toward the ship. Too late she closed the feed and focused on her own
    problems. A squad of troopers from the Emperor's ships had broken the seal on the
    Rogue Shadow's secret nest. They could only be coming for her.
    Her heart hammered in her chest. Standing, she smoothed down her black uniform and
    made sure her cap was straight. When she was sure her pistol was well out of reach,
    she opened the ramp. Taking a deep, calming breath, she went out to meet her fate.
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Part 2
    EMPERIAL

CHAPTER 10
    Death wasn't at all as he expected. He was aware of it, for a start, even if that
    awareness was of a fragmentary, nebulous sort. His consciousness came and went in
    waves, drifting in and out on unfathomable tides. He sank and surfaced at the whim
    of forces he couldn't comprehend. All he could do was ride with them and hope that
    death wouldn't be like this forever.
    There was a surprising amount of pain, considering that his body no longer existed,
    lurking at the edge of his consciousness like a reminder of something important he
    had forgotten. Was this some kind of punishment for the actions he had performed
    during his life? Were the Jedi he had slain getting their revenge from a more
    privileged position in the afterlife?
    That was a ridiculous thought, he told himself. Irrespective of whether there was an
    afterlife or not, privilege could not possibly exist, for anyone. The light and the
    dark sides of the Force were identical in stature, if not in effect. He could no
    more be tormented by the Jedi than he could torment them.
    There were voices, too, and visions. They were harder to rationalize. Some were
    familiar, such as PROXY soothing him as he would a child-as he had for many years,
    until Darth Vader's apprentice had grown too old for such coddling. There was Darth
    Vader himself, urging him to embrace his fear, not fight it, and thereby become as
    strong as a mountain.
    Some of the visions were memories, such as of the time he had asked PROXY to chain
    him immobile in the dark and refused food or water until he had assembled a
    lightsaber lying in pieces before him, using only the Force. He had failed at the
    attempt, but in his extremity he had found the strength to abandon his weakened body
    and embrace the dark side. He returned to that place many times after his death at
    Darth Vader's hand.
    In endless loops he felt his Master's lightsaber burning through his stomach and the
    coldness of vacuum sucking the air from his lungs.
    Many of the visions, however, were of things he could not possibly have