"My lord," Vader spoke. "I have an inquiry about the ways of the Force."

"Of course," said Palpatine's image over the comms. "You may speak."

"Have you ever heard tales of...apparitions of dead individuals, appearing to Force-sensitives? Not visions of the past, mind you, but life-forms appearing different from when they were alive. Glowing, like a hologram. Or speaking without a body."

Part of him remembered a distant night in a decadent opera house, culture from a republic that no longer existed. With the Force, he had been promised, there were ways to overcome even death itself. Maybe the secret was just spite; some willful humans would simply refuse to succumb to the grave when they still had anger to vent.

"I have not heard of any such tales," said the emperor. "If you are seeing or hearing people that are not there, perhaps you may be under psychological stress."

"I am not hallucinating," Vader said sharply, "nor have I experienced these symptoms myself. I merely wish to know if you have any familiarity with them."

The Emperor was briefly quiet. "What brings about this curiosity?"

"I found myself curious about the teachings of the so-called Guardians of the Whills, after the unfortunate disturbances on Jedha. Some of their teachings seemed to touch on the matter, indirectly."

"The Guardians were fools, and now are dust," said Palpatine. "Do not concern yourself with their superstition."

"Of course, my lord," said Vader. The comms went silent.

"What happened on Jedha?" said the ghost.

Vader did not turn. He was very certain he was alone in his chambers. No one else had access to the Emperor's secure comms. The Stormtroopers' voices from the cell blocks would not carry that far. Palpatine may have meant it as an insult, but he was tired. Destroying the Tantive, interrogating the prisoner, executing the prisoner...these things were special occasions, even for a Sith Lord.

"You're not crazy," said the ghost. "Evil, but not crazy."

"Go away," said Vader reflexively.

"I should," she said. "It was rude of you to throw me under the transport like that."

"What transport?"

"You're hopeless."

Then nothing. She didn't even have the decency to appear as a specter, so that he might recognize solitude by the absence of that haunting light. "Are you still there?" he asked, annoyed at himself for sinking to it.

But she did not respond. Good riddance.

Vader survived the destruction of the Death Star not because the Force protected him or the Emperor needed him elsewhere, but because-despite or thanks to his armor-he was still one of the best TIE fighter pilots stationed there. When the order came to defend against a rebel attack, he deployed. It gave him no pleasure to protect Tarkin's oversized folly, but a dogfight was a dogfight. Zero-gravity navigation, firing and pivoting in one motion, coordinating with allies while soaring alone-there was nothing like it.

Also, the ghost didn't bother him when he was flying a TIE fighter. Which shouldn't have been an important consideration, but it was a nice bonus.

When it was over, Vader was angry at himself for letting the pilot with inhuman reflexes defeat him, and dreaded the Emperor's reaction. But he did not have room to pity Tarkin or his cronies. They had put their faith in a dead machine, and died with it.

Still, even though he had not liked them, he had at least known them-worked with them, put up with their petty squabblings, learned to tell Tagge's grumbling from Motti's. If the galaxy was determined to harass him, it was only fitting that the men who had occupied so much of his time in life would continue to do so in death.

Except they did not. They were merely dead, like so many before them-Alderaan and Jedha City and the Jedi. If his mind drifted to them, he could force it to return where it belonged.

The ghost knew no such limits. She drifted through the Star Destroyer like she owned the place, never attracting a second glance from Ozzel or Veers or any of the other incompetent officers who the Emperor sent him. She reserved her voice for Vader.

"Why you?" he finally snapped, when he was sure that no one else was in earshot. "I've executed plenty of people on my master's orders. Why won't you stay dead?"

She gave this a brief consideration, then said, "I am dead."

"Dead people," said Vader, "don't talk. Or glow."

"Droids don't breath oxygen. Wookiees live for centuries. Twi'leks have those horns on their head. Some people engage with the living world after they die."

"And why am I so...fortunate, as to be the only one you show yourself to?"

This time she was quicker to respond. "You're not."

"You don't mean to tell me goons like Ozzel have been seeing you and are able to keep their composure?" Mostly his masks served to intimidate others, but he was increasingly finding it useful to obscure his reactions. Even if he was startled by the ghost, nobody else had to know.

"The galaxy is bigger than your ship."

"That's true," he allowed.

Skywalker. The human who had nearly destroyed the Death Star was named Luke Skywalker. Anakin's son. How had he missed it?

"Because you only see what you expect to see," said the ghost. She had deigned to make a visible appearance, a cowl of blue surrounding her eerily white dress. "Whatever would make things simplest for you. Then you act surprised whenever things change."

He didn't know why he bothered to return her barbs, but there was something to be said for someone who treated him as just another living entity. She didn't seem to notice his prosthetics, and of course, his weapons could no longer intimidate her. "Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That-" He checked himself. It was unwise to betray too much information to someone of uncertain loyalties, and this someone being dead did not alter the basic rule. "That the rebels would mount an attack?"

"Obviously I hoped so," she said. "But I was not aware of the specifics."

"And their pilot being Force-sensitive?" The ghost had hinted, on a couple occasions, that it was his strength in the Force that allowed him to sense her. On others, she made it sound like she had been strong in the Force in life. But that was impossible. If she had been some kind of precocious Jedi, she would have not been so easy to kill.

"That," she said wryly, "I did not plan on. If the timing had been better I could have used that to escape."

"If the timing had been different," said Vader, "you would have still been captive when the station was annihilated."

As fascinating as her company could be, the fact that she continued to follow him and make him question his grip on reality in front of the Emperor and his minions was still a nuisance. "Maybe you could have haunted Skywalker instead," he continued, "and spared me from talking to empty space."

She almost smiled at that, but then turned wistful again. "With him, it...wouldn't be haunting."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you'd have found your death an acceptable price to pay for the destruction of the battle station. Easy to say that when you can still speak."

"I'm not here for vengeance, Vader," she said. "Not for myself, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I-I don't blame you for killing me."

She had met his mask in much the same pose. Hands bound at her sides. Hair still tied in that elaborate style. Eyes defiant. She had survived the probe bot without breaking-had that been the Force at work?-and stood ready to take the Rebellion's secrets to the grave. He had admired that about her, or at least, thought Tarkin and the others fools for insisting on attempting their crude methods first. A squadron of Stormtroopers had raised their blasters, and she had not trembled or cried out. She had not known or even guessed that some part of her would live again; the Alliance's survival was all.

And then, to her surprise as much as his, she had shown up again.

"It's war," the ghost continued. "I would have done the same. And I don't think you would have hated me for it, either. Hated yourself, maybe. Hated the Emperor for not being omnipotent. But not me."

"How touching," said Vader. "If you're as forgiving as you claim, why-"

"But I do hate you for Alderaan. Holding me like a-a child who has to behave, while my world, my family-" Her voice almost broke on that word. "-was slaughtered in an instant, for a war billions of them had no say in. Maybe I'm supposed to forgive you for that, but I can't. Not yet, anyway."

"Embrace your anger," he said. "Let it make you strong."

"No," said the princess. "That darkness, that hatred? That's not the real Force, the Force like I see it now. Whatever anger I have is just me."

"Well," said Vader. "I will just have to get used to your resentment."

That time she really did seem to smile. "Don't be so negative. There are probably worse eternities."