The vast expanse of space before him, Vader broadened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. Most assumed, he had learned, that General Kenobi died like the rest of his traitorous order. Like his brash apprentice. Like the beautiful Nubian senator and her unborn child. He dug his fingers into his arms, the black leather creaking, as he waited for the white flare of pain to blacken and numb. He closed his eyes, listening to the silence and his own wheezing, mechanical breaths. Even now he could feel Obi-Wan, a whisper of sand in the Force—where Padme was only a ghost of thought.
The door slid open and he turned his head slightly, acknowledging Cody's presence, stiff and formal. It was unlikely the commander would remain much longer, a soldier of only protocol and orders now, or so he maintained the appearance as such. Vader had no desire to investigate the clone's emotions beyond their smooth surface.
"We're approaching Alderaan, Lord Vader."
"Mm, he's no longer there."
Cody said nothing.
"But Organa may know something."
"Yes, Lord Vader," he bowed and left.
Alone again, Vader clasped his hands behind his back. His foolish master thought he could outrun him, outwit him, but he did not have the resources of the Empire at his beck and call, could not summon the all-encompassing power of the Dark Side. Vader would find him. And then, Obi-Wan Kenobi would never run from him again.