Vader knew Padmé was smart, and she had proven herself well as the ties peeled away from her convoy to return to the space station, then in a confused mass, turned away from the Death Star to pursue the convoy again, but by then it was too late, then unloaded transports were well on their way back to the Executor and would be within range of her cannons before they could do anything about it. The ties would be foolish to engage the capital ship, but the opportunity was enough for him and Obi Wan to slip into the Death Star hangars undetected.
He had never actually been to the station, although he had seen it in his viewport plenty of times. It was very empty, although that was probably because a significant number of troopers would have deserted following Vader's reveal of the truth.
The station was huge, but that would hardly be an issue as most of it was still uninhabitable and open to the vacuum of space. They covered the engineers quarters and the lower levels first.
The views of the planet were spectacular from here, better than the view would be from the throne room. He wondered how it had been let slip that the engineers had better views than the emperor, but perhaps his master had preferred to look over his wider dominion.
The force fuelled him as he strode through level after level, lightsaber ready at his side. The Sith master couldn't hide forever. His power swirled in almost palpable waves, he knew his eyes would be ringed in red and dark shadows would make him look like death itself. No, he was death itself.
They reached the equator and carried on upwards, the bridge, detention block and officers quarters passed with no success, then suddenly they were standing in the throne room, the northernmost point that was usable in the station. They had found nobody.
Rage coursed through Vader and he lashed out, sending the throne tearing from its spot and through the viewport. There was a gale of depressurisation before the emergency shields slammed shut, then they too crumpled as he released his fury in a shockwave of sheer power.
'Ani, calm down.' Obi Wan hissed in annoyance and the Sith whipped around to find the Jedi calmly hanging onto a pole.
'Where is he?' He growled, prowling up and down the room. This was just like Sidious, a crafty way to send him on a wild goose chase through the galaxy, but he must be here somewhere. Or planet side, but it seemed ridiculous to leave such a powerful station and go down to the planet when Vader had so easily proved the firepower of his ship when it came to planet destroying.
So Sidious was somewhere else in the galaxy, then why was his ship here? It was distinctive, but not enough to warrant leaving behind. Even if it had been traded for another ship, the only ones here would have been imperial shuttles and just as distinctive. Sidious would have been better off going to some backwater planet to perform the trade and picking up an ex-smuggling ship. Unless... Sidious wanted him here for some reason. Had the ship been left here because Sidious knew he would recognise it and come to hunt him down personally? The station was very empty, far emptier than it should have been even given the desertion rate they would have experienced. It had grown even emptier as he got higher, but he had assumed it was because they were getting into areas hat required a security clearance. Now he realised that was because people had been evacuating. The entire station was a massive trap.
'We need to get back to the Executor, now!' He shouted, sprinting with force enhanced speed for the hangar. To his credit, Obi Wan didn't question him and followed behind.
They dashed down corridors, the lift rocketed down, but not fast enough. He cut his way through the floor and jumped through, plummeting in free fall past the many levels. The force guided him as he shot out his grappling hook, snatching Obi Wan as he dropped past and swinging them both through a ventilation shaft. They crashed through the thin ducting, landing in a tangle in the hangar. He sprinted for his ship, Obi Wan's footsteps thundering behind. He manually pulled the cockpit canopy shut and the ship went through it's painfully slow startup sequence.
Something was going on outside, massive amounts of fire lighting up space. There were the common green lasers, then something that looked like stun blasts in opposition. The stun blasts were the new craft, he'd never seen anything like it, but as an invention of Sidious', he didn't want to find out what it did.
The green blasts suddenly stopped. Whatever those stun blasts did, they'd taken out the Executor.
Cold trickled through him, fear an unfamiliar emotion that drained the power of his hatred. He knew those soldier, those officers. They were all loyal, good men.
His ship was warm. He blasted through the hangar entrance and into deep space, diving into one of the trenches that covered the surface for cover. He quickly evaluated the situation.
There were two Executors, one hanging motionless in space worryingly close to Scarif's gravity well. The lights were dark, but there was no other visible damage. That was his Executor.
The other was newer, perhaps on its first outing from the drive yards. There wasn't even a scratch in the pristine panels. The blue blasts must have come from several massive cannons on the hull, each the size of a regular star destroyer. There was minimal regular armament and the shield complement was greater than anything he had ever seen on a star ship. How on earth was he going to take that thing down? Was it just as vulnerable on the bridge as his ship or had that been changed as well. He suspected so.
They wouldn't be taking that one down ship to ship, unless... he glanced at the Death Star again. It was facing the right direction, and at this range...
He looped around to where the exposed superstructure left the core of the station gaping open. The kyber core hadn't been enabled yet, but that wasn't what he was going for. He parked his ship on what was probably a control room ceiling, a pillar of wires running up a huge durasteel beam and into the depths of the station.
He took a deep breath.
Sidious was alive, he had survived.
He wouldn't get to kill him with his own blade.
He had been tricked again.
His men were on a disabled ship, perhaps dead.
With every thought, he coaxed his anger higher, higher. The intensity was a physical pain behind his temples.
That made him stronger again.
He popped the hood on his cockpit and stood in the vacuum of space. It occurred to him briefly that he was probably the only human to ever do this, to feel the air sucked from his lungs, yet to survive long enough to feel the lack of pressure on his rib cage. His lungs inflated as his chest heaved with effort, but he didn't need air.
The force sustained him even as his body cried out in agony as it was deprived to oxygen. The force held him together, even as the vacuum tried to tear him apart, to boil the blood in his veins. And the pain made him stronger.
He drew his lightsaber and looked closely at the cables. They were labelled. He almost laughed at the efficiency of the imperial engineers backfiring on them. He cut two cables with his lightsaber, the smoke odourless and invisible as it was whipped into space. He spliced them together, then cut a length from another.
He felt feverish now, his head was aching and his vision was beginning to blur. The dark side pulled through him stronger, his skin beginning to feel brittle and crispy. His howl of agony was silent, but he had finished his work. He collapsed to the surface as the dark side crashed through him in a terrifying fire, consuming, feeding itself to greater heights as his pain increased. Then suddenly someone was there, someone who stood like a blinding beacon in the force. He cracked open his eyes, finding a small figure in a space suit. The figure helped him stand, guiding him to a small craft, barely more than a fighter. He was half carried up the ramp, then dropped to the cold floor. The room pressurised with a hiss, the pressure on his lungs suddenly too much for him. He coughed and wheezed, stumbling to his feet.
'The wire, hit the wire.' He wheezed, his voice sounding like more of a hiss than his usual strong tone. The figure pulled off her helmet, shaking loose long, dark hair.
'Of course, you just wait here.' She whispered soothingly, the concern in her voice suggesting he looked at least as bad as he felt.
There was silence as she left, but the ship was moving beneath him, so perhaps he was just not hearing very well. Then he did hear the charging of the guns, so at least this little ship was armed. There was no noise following that, except a muffled curse from the front. He needed to see, so he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled to the cockpit.
Even with his splitting headache and blurred vision, he could see that the death star was gone and where it had been was perhaps the largest debris field he'd seen. The shrapnel was already being pulled into the planetary well, sparking against the shield. The Executor had an emergency engine running and seemed to be limping further from the planet, so at least a couple of people still survived.
A yellow fighter floated up to their right. Obi Wan had survived... as had Padmé. He looked at the woman to his side. She looked exhausted, but otherwise unhurt. Her hair was loose, perhaps to have fitted under the space helmet she wore. The suit was far too big, and she kept having to push up the sleeves to use the controls.
The galaxy went dark.