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wouldn't think twice. She hadn't seen her father in
    years and wouldn't mind if she never did again. Only in recent days, away from her
    former squadron mates and lying alone in her bunkroom at night, did she ever wonder
    what had become of him. Would she end up as bitter as he was? How many more missions
    like Callos would it take before she forgot why she had joined up in the first
    place?
    In a small holo appended to the last file she found, her father looked at her with
    empty eyes around his narrow, imperious nose. She closed that window with an
    impatient flick of her index finger.
    This was getting her nowhere. Searching through archives for her name could leave
    her mired in trivia for days. There had to be a better way.
    She leaned back in her seat and thought for a moment. It was PROXY who had alerted
    her to the existence of the file, so the droid must have access to its location, if
    not the actual contents. Therefore, if she could somehow pin down the information
    PROXY had scanned in the last day or two, she might get a result.
    Time had passed during her search. She barely noticed her weariness, trained as she
    was to spend long hours in the cockpit on full alert. She could grab a short nap
    later to catch up on what she'd lost. It took her just minutes to find an ID that
    looked like it might belong to the droid-one not on the official log but with access
    pretty much everywhere-and to begin following it through the data banks. Like most
    advanced droids, PROXY had a lively, curious nature. His ruminations led him through
    numerous fields, including history, repulsor maintenance, astrography, and
    psychology. It could take her all night to find just one address among all the
    others. But she persisted, determined to know what her superiors really thought of
    her after Callos.
    Without warning, her screen cleared. She blinked bleary eyes at a new view, a data
    feed she appeared to have unintentionally sliced into. It was one occasionally
    accessed by PROXY, showing a gun metal-gray corridor leading to a heavy, secure
    door. The view came with sound. She could hear footsteps, faintly, from the other
    side of the door. Someone was pacing restlessly back and forth. And breathing:
    heavy, rhythmic breathing, as of lungs straining at a mechanical respirator...
    A shock of adrenaline rushed through her. Only one person in the galaxy breathed
    like that. She must have patched by accident into Lord Vader's private chambers. Her
    hand reached up to cancel the feed lest she be discovered spying on him, but before
    she could complete the command, the door hissed open and her curiosity was caught.
    Revealed in the doorway was Starkiller, a picture of impatience and restraint. He
    had clearly been waiting to speak to his Dark Lord all this time. In four quick
    paces he walked past the vantage point of her hidden security cam and out of view.
    With a series of hesitant commands, not quite believing her audacity, she tested to
    see if the viewpoint was movable. It rotated smoothly to bring Starkiller back into
    sight, revealing a room as empty of personality as the rest of Darth Vader's secret
    hideout. The Dark Lord himself stood with his back to the room, staring at the
    burning red sun outside.
    Starkiller knelt behind Vader and waited. He seemed well accustomed to doing that,
    despite the energy boiling through him, barely contained by his skin.
    Without turning, Lord Vader asked, "Master Kota is dead?" Starkiller didn't answer
    straightaway. He raised his head, considered the question, and then said, "Yes."
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    "His lightsaber."
    Starkiller unclipped the second weapon from his belt. Vader turned just enough to
    reach out with one hand. The fallen Jedi's lightsaber was snatched into Lord Vader's
    grasp as though by invisible fingers.
    Juno let out a surprised gasp and stifled it under both hands, irrationally afraid
    that the Dark Lord might hear her through the one-way