The Republic has fallen.
In the final days of the Clone Wars, Chancellor Palpatine died under mysterious circumstances. With the Senate struggling to retain a sense of unity, it was the perfect time for the Separatists to strike. And strike they did...
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"My Lord, are you certain we cannot convince you to stay longer?"
Vader bit his lip against a curse at the sound of Agent Kallus' voice. He was seriously tempted to duck down a few side passages to hide his destination, as obvious as it probably was already. He'd left most of the officers on the overbridge stunned by his abrupt arrival and even more abrupt declaration that his ship was being prepared as he spoke, and that it was his intention to leave the station immediately – too stunned, he'd hoped, for anyone to think to follow him.
It was probably his own fault that Kallus had been the one to catch up to him. Vader had a long stride to match his height, and he didn't walk slowly, even without the suit to add to his natural strength. Kallus had spent nearly three weeks scurrying at Vader's exoskeleton-enhanced heels. He'd surely built up his endurance by now.
Forcing calmness, Vader said, "I'm not the one you must convince, Agent Kallus, and convincing the Emperor of anything once his mind is made up is an exercise in futility. He has decided my presence is needed to quash unrest on Garel, and his will is law."
"Of course, of course," Kallus backtracked, and Vader narrowly kept a snort quiet enough for his vocoder to dismiss it as nothing more than an especially loud breath. Usually his tact of throwing people off their guard with whip-sharp avowals of the Emperor's power when they began to question it didn't work on Kallus. Maybe the other man was more rattled than he was letting on.
Or more elated that Vader was leaving, and hurrying after his departing guest now to put himself above suspicion.
Political muscles Vader had felt growing tougher and stronger in the last few months tensed, searching for clues in Kallus' manner. There was nothing there he could see, and questing probes with the Force came back blank as soon as they hit Kallus' mental defenses, but perhaps if he asked a few careful questions...
No. Vader had to remain resolute. Any sign of being more than the Emperor's attack dog, tunnel vision-blinded to anything but the task before him, and he risked tipping the rebel operative aboard the station off to his scheme. Vader had no proof, of course, but Kallus could very well be that operative.
"Seeing me to my ship is an unnecessary formality, Agent Kallus. We must all serve the Emperor in our own ways. Yours is to see to the task of unmasking the infiltrator aboard this station while I'm not here to do it personally."
"I first welcomed you here, my Lord," Kallus shot back smoothly. "It's only fitting that I see you off."
"Really? I suppose that's well and good, but I am certain I will return to my assignment here if the enemy agent is not caught in two weeks' time," Vader said, deciding to gamble that Kallus would pass the word along as well as take the veiled threat to heart himself. "The rebels on Garel have proven stubborn, but they're nowhere near tenacious enough to withstand me for long."
"Indeed..." It could've been a trick of the low, greenish light, but if it wasn't Vader's imagination, Kallus was looking a little paler than usual. Whether it was from anger or fear, that, Vader couldn't tell. "In that case, I will redouble my efforts."
