Force Exile III: Liberator/Part 8

17
Sarth Kraen fidgeted with the sleeves of his robe as he waited in the wings of the audience chamber alongside Cassi. The droning sound of Mentor Frelix’s voice and a low murmur of conversation could be heard from the natural amphitheater. They had been summoned here by their Whiphid guide S’vollke, but had been instructed to wait until called before entering the chamber. Now that it was actually time for their address to the Jal Shey, Sarth was nervous, knowing how much rested upon the next few minutes.
 * “Hey, are you okay?” Cassi asked.
 * “I’m fine,” Sarth replied after a moment. “Just tense.”
 * “Relax,” she replied, smiling at him. “You’ll be fine.”
 * “I wish I had your confidence.”
 * “The Force will be with us,” she said simply.
 * “I hope so.”

Sarth was still inwardly amazed at how quickly Cassi had taken to her new role in the Force. He had seen firsthand the difference and the effects of their newfound abilities, but was still dumbfounded by how willing she was to accept things blindly. As a scientist and engineer, he had been trained to approach things analytically and rationally; that had actually hampered his training until Selu had helped him lower his overbearing logic and reason, allowing to just feel the Force. Only after he had allowed himself to be guided by the Force had he been able to re-introduce his analytical training, but in the sense that he examined what the Force presented him with, and he still didn’t have as good of an understanding of the Force as he had wished. Little did he know that his desired level of understanding would have required a level of mastery beyond even that of Selu or even a Jedi Master. To Sarth, understanding something meant complete comprehension of all of its facets, and it hadn’t completely dawned on him that the Force was simply too large for one person to understand.
 * “Jedi Knights Sarth Kraen and Cassi Trealus,” called Frelix from the room, pulling him out of his introspection.

Slowly, purposefully, the two walked into the circular room, the sound of their footfalls echoing surprisingly loudly in the stone chamber. Coming to a halt in the middle of the chamber next to Frelix’s desk, they took in the multiple layers of desks rising above them, encircling them, filled with several dozen Jal Shey of various species, watching them intently. Again Sarth was reminded of the Senate Hall on Coruscant, and this time noted the delicate inlays on each of the desks that probably represented significant events or motifs from Jal Shey history. Sweeping his gaze around the room, he realized that he wasn’t just addressing a few elders of the Jal Shey- he was addressing the whole order, or at least, all of its adult members. The weight of their gazes bore down on him and he was suddenly even more nervous than before. Recalling a relaxation technique Selu had taught him, he stepped forward, working up the nerve to begin his speech.
 * “You have the floor,” murmured Frelix.
 * “Thank you,” said Sarth softly, clearing his throat and clasping his hands in front of him. “To the esteemed order of the Jal Shey, I bring you greetings from the Jedi Order. I wish we had come at a better time, but the facts of the matter are simple: The shadow of the dark side of the Force lies heavily across the galaxy. The Jedi are all but extinct, wiped out by the treachery of the Empire, which we believe is either led or heavily influenced by the Sith, servants of the dark side. Now, they are actively hunting you. We have already seized a ship that was being used by this new government to scout for organizations such as your own so the Empire could crush you or bend you to its will. It is only a matter of time before they arrive; they could be here any day now and there is little hope of standing against the full might of the Empire.”

Sarth took a step back, indicating he was done speaking.
 * “So, you bring us a warning?” asked one of the Jal Shey.
 * “Yes, among other things,” Sarth replied.
 * “The two of us are messengers from our leader, a Jedi named Selu Kraen, who has sent us to you with both a warning and a proposal,” Cassi spoke up. “Other comrades have gone to other followers of the Force who have yet to fall under the Empire’s sway with similar offers.”
 * “In light of the danger posed by the Empire, we urge you, and other Force users, to join together, to unite. It’s our only chance of survival,” Sarth said.
 * “Is it? Or is it a way of gathering us all together so we can be easily wiped once and for all?” spoke up another Jal Shey, skepticism evident in his voice.
 * “Test us with the Force,” said Cassi. “We are not lying, and even the Empire would not take lightly a large group of Force users, allied in a common cause.”
 * “At any rate, Tokmia is not safe for you anymore,” Sarth said. “The ship we captured was headed here and, once its disappearance is noted, more ships will come.”
 * “Perhaps, Jedi Kraen, but what of our safety? At least here, we know the land and are safe in this isolated location. Where will we go? How will we raise our young ones, find new homes?” came another voice from the heights of the rows of Jal Shey.
 * “Our leader is familiar with a powerful technique capable of camouflaging a settlement from view with the Force. With the power of the Jal Shey aiding him, he can shield us from the ships of the Empire,” Sarth offered.
 * “And you are sure of this?” asked a Jal Shey.
 * “I’m not going to lie,” Cassi said. “There is a lot of uncertainty. Selu is currently on a mission to Yanibar to speak with another group of Force users, the Zeison Sha, about using their world, Yanibar, as a refuge. If he’s successful, then Yanibar will be our destination. It’s remote and easily overlooked. I’m sure once Selu camouflages our settlement, the Empire will never find us.”
 * “Have you seen this power at work?”
 * “On a smaller scale, yes,” Sarth said. “I’ve seen him hide our spaceship before after he first learned the technique. He said the illusion of nothing being there could be maintained from some time.”
 * “What about our ways? We have no desire to change our teachings,” growled another voice that sounded as if it belonged to a Shistavanen.
 * “We wouldn’t want you to,” Cassi assured him. “Selu wishes to found a refuge of light siders based on respect. No one will pressure you to change your ways of practicing the Force and, in return, we would expect the same from you.”

There was silence for several moments after the last answer. Sarth and Cassi sensed that their message was being quietly argued amongst little knots of the Jal Shey, but they were not privy to the conversations, so they just stood there waiting expectantly.
 * “Your offer is intriguing,” said the familiar voice of S’vollke after several more minutes. “I say we place it to a vote.”
 * “Seconded,” said another voice.
 * “Very well,” Frelix said, speaking for the first time since calling them in. “Members will now submit proposals for the vote.”

A confused hubbub of various Jal Shey offering up different voting options and others seconding or objecting to them ensued, but Frelix dutifully noted the ones that received a modicum of support from others, inscribing the options on a piece of parchment. Sarth and Cassi had a hard time hearing over the general clamor; how Frelix kept up with the cacophony was beyond them. Finally, the hubbub died down. As they stood there expectantly, Frelix shuffled his stack of parchment scraps and delivered the options.
 * “The options that have passed are as follows: Reject the Jedi proposal outright. Accept the Jedi proposal. Submit the matter to a smaller group of mentors for more questioning. Make the Jedi pass the rite of the Gnissom maze. We will now vote on these options.”

Sarth and Cassi glanced around the room, and while the option of accepting the proposal had pleased them, most of the Jal Shey did not look particularly enthusiastic about simply packing up and moving their entire community to a new place based on a pair of strangers.
 * “All in favor of outright rejection, speak now.”

Their hearts sat in their throats as they desperately hoped that a majority of the Jal Shey would not choose this option. To their great relief, while several voices spoke in favor, it did not appear that a resounding majority agreed with them. They breathed a huge sigh of relief and waited anxiously for the next option, which would vindicate all of their efforts.
 * “No majority, moving on. All in favor of accepting the Jedi proposal, speak now,” intoned Frelix in a singsong meter that indicated that the words were rote, procedural.

Sarth waited with baited breath and he knew that his heart was beating far faster than normal. This was it; the climax of their mission to the Jal Shey. He listened, his ears straining to hear Jal Shey voicing their assent. There was something wrong; though-only a few spoke up. His spirits sank; this was not to be after all. Somehow, he had failed-failed to win over the Jal Shey, failed to accomplish his part in the unification of the Force exiles. Cassi squeezed his hand tightly, but he knew she had to be as disappointed as he was.
 * “No majority, moving on. All in favor of submitting the matter to a group of mentors for more questioning?”
 * “Mentor Frelix,” boomed the familiar voice of S’vollke, rising above the ambient noise of the room. “I would speak on this option.”
 * “Proceed,” replied Frelix.
 * “Perhaps the Jedi are wrong in their warning that the Empire is coming,” rumbled the Whiphid. “But perhaps they are not. If they are not, delaying this decision further only serves to doom us either way we choose. The more I have thought and meditated on this matter, the more I’m sure that we have to act soon. That is all. Thank you, Mentor Frelix.”
 * “Any other statements?” offered Frelix.

There were none, so the Muun moved on to the vote. Once again, there was no clear majority of voices in favor, and Sarth suspected that S’vollke’s words had carried a lot of weight with the others.
 * “No majority, moving on. The final option is that of the rite of Gnissom maze. All in favor, speak now.”

A large number of voices were in favor and the two Jedi knew that option had clearly carried the most weight.
 * “Great,” said Sarth dryly. “We seem to finally have consensus. Now, if only we knew what exactly this rite of Gnissom maze is.”
 * “I’ve never heard of it,” Cassi said.
 * “We appear to have reached a decision,” Frelix informed them. “You two will be tested by the rite of Gnissom maze. How the Jal Shey will act will be based on your passing of that test.”
 * “Forgive my ignorance,” Sarth said, trying to sound both ingratiating and humble at the same time. “But what is the rite of Gnissom maze?”

Frelix offered him a facial expression that might have been the equivalent of a human smile.
 * “S’vollke will tell you about it as he conducts you to the appropriate chamber.”
 * “Right now?” Cassi asked.
 * “In one hour,” Frelix replied. “I advise you to prepare yourself- the maze is not easy.”

One hour later, Sarth and Cassi were once again sitting in the now deserted round chamber, having taken the opportunity to eat and rest, as S’vollke made his way down the stairs towards them. They suddenly grew more nervous, as neither of them knew what to expect. Sarth turned to Cassi as the Whiphid descended.
 * “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Their burly guide led them through another side exit from the round stone chamber where they had addressed the Jal Shey. It was dimly lit by flickering torches, but Sarth and Cassi could make out more inlays carved into the cool, dry stone of the tunnel walls.
 * “S’vollke, what is the rite of Gnissom maze?” asked Cassi tentatively.
 * “It is an ancient test, created thousands of years ago by a Jal Shey named Gnissom. Back in the early days of the Jal Shey, there was a faction that wished to depart from the steady tradition of study and meditation of the Force to seek a more . . . aggressive approach. Gnissom refused to even hear of such an argument, but they kept pressuring him. Finally, he told them that if they passed his test, he would let them have their say. He gave them three days to work on what he had made, but they couldn’t pass it. Since then, it has been used as a reliable method of sorting out a proposal’s worth-only those pure of heart and dedicated to the light side of the Force can pass it. In all the years we’ve used it, decisions submitted to that test have never gone wrong, though only a handful have ever passed it.”
 * “Fascinating,” said Cassi.
 * “Yes, but what is the test?” Sarth asked.
 * “It’s a puzzle of sorts, but I don’t know exactly how it works. There’s apparently a message that has to be deciphered.”
 * “What do you mean?” Sarth said. “You told us that others have passed the test before.”
 * “That’s true,” S’vollke admitted. “And every mentor has to pass the test before they are confirmed, but they are the only ones who know the answer. Anyone who is not a mentor that’s ever taken the test retains no memory of it.”
 * “Why is that?” Cassi said.
 * “Although we are a peaceful society, we do retain a few key instruments for defense. One of them is an extract called ylannock that we obtain from lichen we grow. When used by one skilled in the Force for such things, it can selectively erase memories, preventing the secret of the test from being spread.”
 * “How do we know that we passed the test, then?” asked Sarth.
 * “The mentors would not lie to you, and I suspect you will know whether you did or not.”
 * “Are you sure about that?”
 * “You must trust us, as we must trust that you are telling us the truth,” S’vollke replied.
 * “Well, since you put it like that,” Cassi said dryly.
 * “Here is the chamber,” S’vollke informed them as they walked up to a sizable stone door covered with more intricate carvings. “I will leave you here; food, drink, and blankets have already been left inside should you need them. When the three days are up, or when you finish the test, the mentors will be waiting for you in the council room.”

Unlatching the door, he swung it upon noiselessly and ushered them inside. They stepped into a dimly lit room, again cut out of stone, but instead of torches, radiant patches of lichen lit up the room with blue and green hues of light that was surprisingly bright. On each side of the room, a bed had been carved into the cave well and they could also see tables laden with food and drink- simple fare like bread, water, dried fruits, and cheeses, but tasteful enough, as their days with the Jal Shey had shown them. The far wall of the room was marked by an alcove whose roof was covered with the luminescent lichen and filled with a statue of an unfamiliar Equani; Sarth guessed the likeness was that of Gnissom. In the middle of the room was a ring of six stone columns set in a circle about six meters in diameter. Inside the ring was a sizable altar with a plinth of stone protruding from the middle. What caught their eye, though, was the intricate metal sculpture fashioned on the altar. Made of at least one hundred interconnecting pieces of metal arranged in a peculiar geometric pattern, it looked like nothing more than a piece of art, but Sarth and Cassi suspected that this was the puzzle. Approaching the altar, they saw a stone tablet lying there.
 * “What does it say?” Sarth asked.
 * “It says, ‘Find the message of the maze to pass the rite of Gnissom.’”
 * “Helpful as always.”
 * “So, I suppose this metal thing is the maze,” Cassi said.
 * “It would seem so.”
 * “It’s beautiful,” Cassi said. “A lot of thought must have gone into this.”
 * “Indeed,” Sarth replied, circling around the sculpture slowly.

The whole thing was about a meter and a half in every direction and looked remotely like some sort of metal tree. The altar and the maze were lit from above by one of the ubiquitous skylights favored by the Jal Shey, casting a pale light on the metal object before them. Sarth walked slowly around it, peering at the various sized and shaped metal pieces, which also had etchings of some kind on them.
 * “A maze, hmmm,” he muttered.
 * “Do you know what it is?” Cassi asked.
 * “Haven’t a clue,” he said ruefully. “I’ve already ruled out several common geometric relationships between the pieces.”
 * “What do the etchings say?”
 * “Seems to be some sort of pictogram. I can’t make anything of it.”

Cassi leaned in to examine one of the pictograms, brushing her fingers against the cold, hard metal of the piece.
 * “If it’s a maze, shouldn’t it have a start point?” she asked.
 * “It should,” he agreed. “I think this might be it, too.”

Cassi’s eyes followed where Sarth was pointing: a small stone plinth in the middle of the altar, with one of the pieces of metal slid into a notch in the stone. However, that segment also had at least seven other interconnecting parts meshed into it. Clearly, this was not meant to be a simple puzzle.
 * “It’s amazing that this is still standing,” Sarth said. “They aren’t using anything more sophisticated than simple pins and brackets to hold this together.”
 * “I’m not sure what exactly it is or how it works,” Cassi said. “It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.”
 * “I guess we should try to solve the maze, though.”
 * “How do we do that?”
 * “Well, I have two ideas on that. The first is probably how most Jal Shey have solved it for years-use the Force to meditate on the puzzle until the answer comes to them.”
 * “And the second?”
 * “I use a mathematical theory that my mother taught me to analyze the maze and give us the answer.”
 * “Which one is better?”

Sarth stopped short, suddenly unable to answer the question.
 * “I don’t know, Cassi. Most of my life, I would have instantly answered the mathematical theory- even thought it was ridiculous to rely on supernatural influences and meditation. But recently, with all of what’s happened in Wild Space, I’m-I can’t give you a straight answer.”
 * “Can we use both?”
 * “Meditate and run Iribakki route-location networks at the same time? Well, if you want to do the meditation, I can handle the math,” he said with a smile.
 * “I might be better sensing it with the Force,” Cassi said. “I’ve never even heard of an Irabaykee route-thing.”
 * “Iribakki, and it’s a mathematical method that makes an overall system clearer by organizing pairs of elements by their proximity. The end result looks like a train of thought, and if this maze has a clear train of thought based on similarities, the Iribakki Are Ell Enns will tell us what it is.”

Cassi stared at him with a blank expression on her face.
 * “Again, in Basic this time, please,” she said.
 * “Here’s a simple example based on linking things of like kind,” Sarth said. “I give you nine words- say hyperdrive, ion engine, engine, landing gear, ship, starfighter, freighter, hawkbat, and Coruscant. Hyperdrive and ion engine are related to engine- they’re both types of engine. Engine and landing gear go with ship; they’re both parts on ships, but so do starfighter and freighter. Then, we would link hawkbat with freighter because that’s the name of our ship and hawkbats live on Coruscant, so those two would be linked also. It all makes sense-all the links are established between things that have similarities. Iribakki route-location networks put all that together for us and, if we have a good start point and a general idea of what we’re looking at, we can get the whole message, assuming that each pair is supposed to have an Aurebesh value we can read.”
 * “Wow,” Cassi said. “When you learned all that, did you ever think it would be useful?”
 * Sarth shrugged. “I figured I would use it eventually, but never on anything like this. There’s just one catch.”
 * “What’s that?”
 * “I have to know what the pictograms mean, or at least have a decent understanding of them. I can’t associate one hundred unknowns. Five or ten, I can sort through, isolate, and, fill in the gaps. Not with one hundred.”
 * “I might have some ideas on that. I’m no protocol droid or language savant, but if it’s pictorial, I should be able to give you an idea of what they mean.”
 * “Let’s get to work,” Sarth said, pulling out his datapad and keying it on. “I’ll start isolating the parameters, while you start looking at the pictograms. If we’re good, we might not even need the Force to be with us-might even set a new record for solving this thing.”

Several hours later, it became abundantly clear that things were not going as well as Sarth had optimistically predicted. Cassi had managed to decipher about half of the pictograms after several trial and error guesses. As she decrypted each one, Sarth would include them in the program he had in his datapad for analyzing the maze, but so far, all they had gotten was an incomplete mess composed of gibberish and unknowns. Sarth’s mind hurt from constantly having to re-figure new variables into the network; he was out of practice on this kind of math, having not had to do it since his university studies. Cassi’s eyes were sore from staring at the shiny metal, and her feelings had been slightly bruised every time Sarth told her that one of her interpretations wasn’t possible, that it ruined the network or made no sense. She knew he didn’t mean to insult her, but the words still carried the same subtext. They hadn’t lost their tempers yet, but both of theirs were simmering. And still the sculpture sat on the altar, defying all of their efforts.
 * “I don’t understand,” Sarth said, thoroughly exasperated. “This should be working.”
 * “I’m sorry, I’m doing the best I can,” Cassi said.
 * “It’s not you. It’s this damn piece of metal!” he retorted, his anger flaring up.
 * “Hey now, you can’t work when you’re riled up,” Cassi said, walking over to stand behind him and gently rub the back of his neck. “We’re both tired. Maybe we should just eat something, take a break.”
 * “Good idea. You always know the right thing to say.”
 * “Thanks.”
 * “I just don’t get it,” he said, as he reached out and grabbed one of the brown thick-crusted loaves of bread. “It’s like the network has redundant elements that don’t matter, or else your interpretation of the pictograms is all wrong.”
 * “I’m sure of most of them,” she said. “What do you mean by redundant elements, though?”
 * “Well, the parameters that I use to organize the data aren’t enough,” he said. “The pictograms are turning up in contradictory patterns. They’re just not correlating. It’s like . . .”
 * “Like what?”
 * “Like there’s more than one pattern,” Sarth said slowly, a gleam of epiphany evident in his eyes.

His half-eaten meal forgotten, he leapt out of his chair and raced back to the maze, grabbing his datapad as he went.
 * “I was operating under the assumption that this was a simple pictographic maze. But it’s not! It’s at least two.”
 * “What are you doing now?”
 * “Well, the first thing is to find out how many networks there are. That alone changes everything.”

Cassi stood up and walked over to the sculpture, feeling one of the pieces slowly. Closing her eyes, she tentatively stretched out to the Force, bathing the metal sculpture with the extensions of her senses, trying to perceive the enigma of the Gnissom maze with her mind. She saw each piece independently, but also the way they all fit together, the overall pattern and geometry of the piece. Then, like a ray of light into a dark room, it became clear to her. She understood how the maze was structured.
 * “There’s three,” she said. “Three different mazes all tied into one.”
 * “How do you know?
 * “I just do. There’s the pictograms, but there’s also the shape of each piece, and the angles. It all figures into the puzzle.”
 * “All right, I’m looking at the shapes and angles now also.”

Sarth peered around, looking from different perspectives of each piece, gathering information as his eyes darted from point to point, his mind processing information as fast as he took it in.
 * “Cassi, you’re a genius,” he said.
 * “Thanks, Sarth. I just wish I knew what each one means. At least with the pictograms I could tell you what it represents.”
 * “The angles are probably alphanumeric. With something that imprecise, there’s no other good way to do it. The shapes, hmm.”

Sarth bit his lip, pondering the meaning of the different shapes of the metal. At first, they all appeared to be different shapes, but a closer look revealed that some of them were identical. That was enough to clue Sarth in to the solution.
 * “Of course,” Sarth said. “Each shape corresponds to a different value. And if we have values, then it’s easy to correlate them to one another.”
 * “Those are letters also?” Cassi asked.
 * “That’s right. It’s actually pretty simple. The shape of each piece probably has a corresponding Aurebesh value. I should have seen it hours ago.”
 * “So, it shouldn’t take long to figure it out.”

Sarth gave her a skeptical look.
 * “Cassi, by adding three interlinked networks, this maze became orders of magnitude harder. Take all the time we’ve spent so far and square it, and that’s about how long this’ll take. I can’t even begin to say how this is going to work.”
 * “Wow. When Selu said that the Jal Shey studied the intellectual and philosophical sides of the Force, he wasn’t joking. What can I do?”
 * “Keep working on the pictograms, then move on to the shapes. Try and figure out what they mean. And if the Force has any other insights it’d like to share, clue me in.”
 * “Will do. There’s one thing on our side, though.”
 * “What’s that?”
 * “I love you.”

Sarth looked up from what he was doing and gave her a small grin.
 * “Love you too.”

With that, Sarth and Cassi set back to work. Whereas he had been able to use a pre-written program to structure the Ibrakki route-location network earlier, Sarth now had to draw up an analytical program on his datapad. While he now knew the true scope of the puzzle, he also didn’t know how exactly the pieces fit together, yet another obstacle to overcome.

Cassi spent her time looking at the different pictograms, trying to make reasons out of the strange etchings on the metal, frowning as she looked at each piece from different angles. Day passed into night and the radiant lichen on the walls remained the only light in the cool, dry stone room where they were ensconced. Time wore on, but neither of them was really aware of its passing, as the hours blurred together. They took occasional breaks as they needed them, but their minds were always drawn back to the puzzle, to the odd sculpture which continued to defy them with its intricate complexity.

Dawn was rising on the third day when Sarth pressed the “compile” button on his datapad one final time. The machine whirred and clicked for a few moments as it sorted through the complicated algorithm. Cassi looked over Sarth’s shoulder intently as meaningless numbers and symbols flashed across the datapad’s screen.
 * “Does it always take this long?” she asked.
 * “Well, this is the first time I’ve put everything together. If we had a real computer, or a good droid, it’d be a lot faster, but my datapad is pretty hard-pressed even for a tweaked model.”

They sat and watched the screen for several more minutes before the symbols on the screen resolved themselves into something legible. Sarth looked at Cassi and smiled.
 * “We got it.”

Excited despite the exhaustion she felt, Cassi threw her arms around Sarth and hugged him tight.
 * “Yes!”
 * “Time to go see the mentors,” Sarth said. “Good work.”
 * “I had a good partner,” she replied.
 * “About that,” he said. “We haven’t done any wedding planning at all, and we did get off that world.”
 * “I know-it’s just been so busy and then we were training and all.”
 * “Understandable. Have you thought about it any? We should probably at least know where we’re having it.”
 * “I was thinking it might be better to have the wedding on Bakura.”
 * “Why’s that?”
 * “Well, I love Commenor and your parents and all, but Bakura is my home and my parents might not be able to afford a trip offworld. Plus, it’ll be easier to get Selu in-security’s not nearly as tight out in the Outer Rim. But only if it’s fine with you.”
 * “Cassi, I’d go anywhere to be with you. A wedding on Bakura sounds fine.”
 * “We’d better get moving to the council room,” she said, glancing at her chrono. “Our three days are about up.”

Striding through the stone halls as fast their tired bodies could take them, the two made their way to the same round chamber again. This time, only a dozen people were present, the mentors of the Jal Shey. They were definitely older, their brows wrinkled by years of study, for members of those species that had brows.
 * “Greetings, Jedi Kraen and Jedi Trealus,” said Frelix. “Have you completed the rite of Gnissom maze?”
 * “We have,” Sarth replied.
 * “Then what was the message of the maze?”
 * “The maze said ‘For our people, for the galaxy, for the Force, let your choice be sound and full of wisdom,’” Cassi said.
 * “That is indeed what it said,” replied one of the mentors. “You pass the test.”
 * “The fate of the Jal Shey has been chosen for the eleventh time by Gnissom maze,” spoke up Frelix. “We will join with these other Force exiles. Now, if each of you will take a drink from that cup.”

Frelix indicated a simple earthenware cup resting on his desk filled with a dark liquid.
 * “Ylannock of some kind?” Sarth asked.
 * “That is correct,” came the reply.
 * “Why do you want to erase our memories?” Cassi asked.
 * “While each maze is unique and carries a different message, the ylannock ensures that the secret of the test does not spread. Only mentors are permitted to know the true mysteries of the Gnissom maze. Do not fear; S’vollke has already gone to inform the other Jal Shey of the outcome and we will not harm your memories beyond that of the test.”
 * “Is this really necessary? We’ll be losing part of who we are,” Cassi answered.
 * “We did agree to it,” Sarth reminded her. “I don’t like it either, but sometimes we have to make sacrifices.”

Lifting the cup to his lips, he took a drink of the liquid and found that it was apparently some kind of wine, fragrant and intoxicating. Passing the cup off to Cassi, he soon felt rather dizzy and sat down in a slump. Soon, Cassi was leaning on him heavily, sinking slowly to the ground beside him. He fought the urge to gag and purge the drug from his system and the soft feeling of her hair against his fingers was the last thing he remembered before everything went black.

When he awoke, he was sitting in a chair in the same council chamber and the mentors were looking at him intently. Beside him was another chair which Cassi occupied, but she obviously hadn’t awoken yet.
 * “How do you feel?” one of the mentors asked.
 * “A little dizzy.”
 * “Do you remember the rite of Gnissom maze?”

Sarth searched his memory, but everything regarding that seemed to be a bit fuzzy, an unsettling feeling for someone with as high of a memory retention rate as he had.
 * “No, I can’t remember it. But I know we passed. Don’t try to tell me that we didn’t find the message.”
 * “You passed and gave us the message,” Frelix assured him. “Our people are already preparing to leave.”
 * “Good,” Sarth said. “How soon can we be prepared to go?”
 * “By sundown,” Frelix replied.
 * “That’s impressively quick.”
 * “We felt confident you would pass the test after the first day, and the Jal Shey are prepared for many eventualities. The request to begin packing began two days ago. Many of our people are hopeful of what this new union will bring.”
 * “Thanks, I think.”

Beside him, Cassi stirred and awoke, rubbing her head, her blue eyes darting to Sarth.
 * “Did I miss anything?”
 * “Not really,” Sarth said. “We did it, though. The Jal Shey are coming.”
 * “Great.”
 * “Are you feeling okay?”
 * “I’m fine. Bit of a headache. How do I look?”
 * “You look wonderful.”

Somewhat unsteadily, they took their leave of the mentors and left the chamber, heading for the quarters where they had been staying. S’vollke met them in the antechamber as they headed back out into the frigid morning of Tokmia. Whereas life in the Jal Shey compound typically proceeded at a rather sedate pace, it was now a bustling flurry of activity as people could be seen carrying loads and bundles to one particular cave at the far end of the compound. Everyone seemed to have gotten the idea that they were leaving, and quickly. To his surprise, none of them seemed to have overt dissatisfaction with the decision. Apparently, the test of the Gnissom maze and the words of their mentors were enough to convince them that departure was the logical choice.
 * “What’s in that cave?” Sarth asked their guide.
 * “Our ship.”
 * “You have a ship?”
 * “How do you think we got here?” S’vollke chuckled. “This compound is only about ten years old. We’ve been nomads before and we’ll be nomads again, I imagine.”
 * “What kind of ship?”
 * “GR-45 medium transport. Even with all of us and our belongings, it’s reasonably comfortable.”

Sarth nodded, somewhat impressed that such a remote colony would have a functional transport, albeit a rather dated one. But, as Frelix had said, the Jal Shey prepared for many eventualities. His boots crunched lightly in the snow as he and Cassi walked back up the slope to their quarters. As the door closed behind him and S’vollke wandered off to attend to his own packing, Sarth turned to Cassi, a smile on his face.
 * “S’vollke wasn’t kidding about the ylannock. I can’t remember a thing from the Gnissom maze.”
 * “Me neither,” she said. “But why the smile?”
 * “Because- the basic idea behind memory-altering drugs is that the memories can be recalled if properly triggered. And my datapad still has the recordings from the entire time we were working on the maze- three straight days.”
 * “You cheated the mentors?”
 * “Cheating?” Sarth looked shocked at the accusation. “They never said we couldn’t record the maze. Besides, I prefer to think of it as a redundant safety measure.”

Powering up his datapad, he prepared to pull up the recording. A frown quickly developed across his face, though, as he failed to find what he was looking for.
 * “Those clever little . . .”
 * “What is it?”
 * “They erased the recording file, but that shouldn’t be possible. I encrypted this thing.”
 * “Or maybe they had you erase the recording file, and then made you forget about it,” Cassi said. “Remember-,”
 * “I know- ‘prepared for many eventualities,’” Sarth answered knowingly.
 * “However,” Cassi put in. “You might want to try this.”

Reaching up to her hair, she pulled off one of her hair clips and slid a small crystalline wafer from the inside of it.
 * “What’s that?” Sarth asked.
 * “A backup copy of the recording file I made while you were asleep,” she said simply, an impish smile developing on her face.
 * “You made a backup copy? Now that’s just sneaky.”
 * “I prefer to think of it as a redundant safety measure.”
 * “Oh, you’re good.”

Sarth took the wafer from her hand and plugged it into the dataport on his pad. Sure enough, the screen lit up with a complete recording of their time in the Gnissom maze room.
 * “We’ll play this back later and recover our memories, but, until we’re back on the Hawk-bat, let’s keep it quiet,” Sarth advised.
 * “Good idea. Remind me to call Selu when we get to the ship.”
 * “Right. We’ll see how he’s doing and hopefully set up a meeting place.”
 * “Somewhere remote, of course,” she murmured.
 * “We’ll do it later. For now, let’s get some sleep and then do some packing. We have a long hike down the mountains ahead of us back to the ship.”

Sarth built up a small fire for warmth, gave Cassi a quick kiss, and only bothered to take off his boots before collapsing on his bed and pulling the blankets over him. He fell asleep in minutes. Sarth was worn and tired from the effort of solving the Gnissom maze, but it had paid off and he was content, full to the brim with the satisfaction that came with a job well done. He and Cassi had done what they set out to do.

18
As the Observant tore through the whirling dimensions of hyperspace, Selusda Kraen walked aft to check on the prisoners, on the Matukai, and on Milya. Everyone was still on edge after the narrow escape on Darlyn Boda and he sought to project an image of calm, of safety to the frightened survivors. Thankfully, the flight back to Yanibar would not be a long one, even by way of Hoth. The corridors of the Observant were already crammed enough as it was and Selu knew they were taxing the air scrubbing systems aboard the scout ship.

Improvising some sleeping areas for the Matukai out of ship’s blankets, he distributed several of them in various areas around the ship, encouraging them to eat and rest, to recover their strength. He was tired, too, but the Matukai seemed leaderless, so he stepped into the role. Milya, however, seemed the most exhausted. She didn’t particularly seem injured, and Spectre had already seen to the injured with a medkit; she just seemed to be in shock. Finally, after all the other Matukai had been made as comfortable as possible, Selu went to check on Milya, whom he had placed in the captain’s solo quarters-the most comfortable on the ship-while he planned on sleeping in brief snatches on the bridge. Standing in the doorway, he noticed that the lights were dimmed and thought she might have been sleeping. However, as he was about to return to the bridge, he saw her silhouette sit up.
 * “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
 * “I wasn’t sleeping,” she said, her voice hoarse.
 * “May I come in?”
 * “Sure.”

Selu walked in and sat on the bed next to Milya, who had buried her face in her hands and had drawn her knees up to her chest. Though her small cuts and injuries had been patched up by Spectre, she still appeared haggard, on edge, fragile. Still, a shower and a fresh change of clothes had drastically improved her appearance from a few hours ago. Selu hadn’t had time for such luxuries. Though he couldn’t see her face, he knew her well enough to know that she was distressed, to say the least.
 * “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I know the attack was unnerving, but you’ve always been cool under fire. What happened?”
 * “I don’t want to talk about it.”
 * “Yes, but you need to. For your own sake,” he said gently.
 * “We all did the best we could,” she said finally, after a long pause. “There were so many of them- they never stopped coming.”
 * “I know.”
 * “And there was him.”
 * “Who?” Selu said, his eyes boring into hers. “Who was it?”
 * “He killed the Matukai leader, Bolfwé Grysloth. He was going to kill me.”
 * “What was he like?” Selu demanded.
 * “He was-no, I can’t say!” she said, and began crying openly.
 * “It’s all right, Milya. He can’t harm you now. You’re safe.”
 * “How do you know? You didn’t even see him!”
 * “Because I won’t let him. If he wants to get to you, he’ll have to get through me first.”

Whether it was the words he spoke, or the determination with which he spoke them, but whatever the case, Milya responded, but not in the way Selu expected. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and let the tears pour openly. Suddenly at a loss for words, he simply held her for awhile as she cried, knowing it was probably the best thing he could do. Selu was fairly sure he hadn’t ever seen her cry, though, and that alone was enough to give him pause. It was a side of Milya Tayrce that he hadn’t seen, that he was sure she didn’t let anyone see it. Finally, his jacket damp from her tears, he asked her again, slowly, softly.
 * “What happened?”

This time, Milya looked up at him, and while her expression was still sorrowful, she was ready to talk, the words spilling out of her mouth as if released from behind some intangible barrier.
 * “I had won a fight and convinced their leader, Templar Grysloth, to journey to wherever you had picked for the refuge. But before we could leave, the Empire found us and attacked. We did the best that we could against them-they lost a lot of people, but so did we. We were falling back when he arrived.”
 * “Who was it, Milya?” Selu’s words were almost a whisper, but he spoke them intently. Whoever it was, he needed to know as much as he could about this menace.
 * “He was a human, dressed in black, and he felt . . . evil. It was as if he was made out of anger and pain and hate.”
 * “The dark side.”
 * “Yes. That’s what he felt like-he felt dark. And powerful. He was good enough to defeat Grysloth. I barely landed a hit on the templar, but that other man took him down with one thrust of his lightsaber.”
 * “He had a lightsaber?”
 * “A red one, yes.”
 * “Was there anything else you want to tell me?”
 * “No, not about him.”
 * “It doesn’t have to be about him. Just anything at all.”

Milya sat there quietly, thinking about it. Selu could tell that something was still aching her and he wanted to help, but he knew that he couldn’t press her on this. She would have to tell him of her own accord.
 * “He died for me, Selu,” she said at last. “Pushed me out of the way and took the blaster bolt, right in the head.”
 * “Who did? The Arkanian?”
 * Milya nodded. “His name was Jahlel. He met me in the city, saved from a group of thugs. He became sort of my trainer while I was there- Grysloth made me learn the ways of the Matukai, but Jahlel was there for me. It always seemed that every time I turned around, there he was helping me or saving me from something I couldn’t handle.”
 * “Sounds like a great person.”
 * “Yeah. He was. You would have liked him. But now-he’s gone.”

Grief overtook her again and she began crying once more, burying her head in Selu’s damp jacket. Selu put his arms around her, drawing her close to him as he smelled the fragrance she was wearing and the cleanser she had used for her hair. She was wearing a white shirt with thin halter straps that seemed appropriate for sleeping, and Selu’s fingers brushed across the soft skin of her shoulder blade.
 * “Milya, I know this sounds trite, but everything does right now. It’s like your heart has suffered a large emotional beating, and it’s going to take time to heal.”

Selu sighed, searching for the right words to say. The words of his old Jedi Master, Plo Koon came back to him. They had helped him back on Boz Pity during the war and he hoped they would help Milya.
 * “My master used to say that death was just a part of life. That one needed the other, it was all part of the natural cycle. It took me a long while to see his death that way-I’m not even sure that I fully do yet- but this too will pass.”
 * “How did you handle it?” Milya asked. “When he died?”
 * “Well, part of it was that I was on the run. I had no choice but to survive. Part of it was that the Jedi Order discourages attachment of any kind. But the biggest part was knowing that Master Koon wouldn’t have wanted to me to waste my life grieving for him or embarking on some insane search for revenge. He would have wanted me to move on, to keep going. That’s how I was able to function.”
 * “Yeah,” she sniffed. “You might be right.”
 * “There’s one thing I can say that might make it easier. Your friend Jahlel laid down his life to protect you. As far as I know, there’s no higher calling or greater expression of true loyalty than that.”
 * “Do you mean that?” Milya asked, sitting up and wiping her face with her hands.
 * “Yes,” he said gravely. “I do.”
 * “Thank you, Selu. That means a lot to me.”
 * “You’re welcome.”

Suddenly self-conscious, Milya brushed her hair back, trying to compose herself. She felt vulnerable, but relieved, glad to help get the weight of her grief of her back. The healing process would take time, she knew, but at least she was started on the right path. Now, although she had allowed Selu to see her weak and distraught, she also didn’t want him to feel like she had to be babysat.
 * “Where are we headed?” she asked.
 * “A remote system called Hoth. We’re meeting with Sarth and Cassi there-they’re bringing the Jal Shey along. Somehow or another, they did it and persuaded them to join with us.”
 * “And the Zeison Sha?”
 * “That’s, uh, still unfinished. I’m still working on that one,” Selu said.
 * “I see. So why’d you come after me?”
 * “Spectre and I sensed you were in trouble; that you needed help.”
 * “Thanks for coming after me. Sorry about losing your starfighter, by the way.”
 * “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t really ours anyway, and I’m certainly not going back to get it.”

Milya gave him a small smile, the first he had seen since she had boarded the ''Observant. ''
 * “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
 * “I’ll be fine. It’s just going to take some time.”
 * “All right. Well, I’m going back forward to check on the bridge and catch some sleep in the captain’s chair. You know, rescues are surprisingly exhausting.”
 * “Who’s there now?”
 * “Spectre’s keeping an eye on things. Last I checked, he was showing Daara-that’s one of the Zeison Sha who tagged along-how to work the basic controls.”

Selu got up and started to leave, but Milya placed her hand on his forearm, stopping him.
 * “You could stay here,” she said softly, an almost silky tone creeping into her voice. “It’d probably be a lot more comfortable and I’d be happy for the company.”

Selu did a double take to make sure he had heard her correctly. Had she just offered what he thought she had? It certainly seemed that way. Forbidden visions of pleasure and satisfaction danced in his mind momentarily. Despite his promise to Spectre, he still felt significantly attracted to Milya and she certainly seemed to reciprocate his feelings at the moment. He’d already broken several other tenets of the Jedi Order’s philosophies by forming attachments with his family and teaching multiple students. Why not this rule also? However, then all his training and lessons came back into mind like a load of metal ingots falling on him. For centuries, Jedi had been taught that this sort of relationship was not only dangerous, but temporary. He attempted to shrug that thought off, but then a lesson in battlefield psychology came to mind. Selu recalled that emotionally traumatized people who were rescued by someone whom they already had some attraction tended to cling to them, to suddenly feel more inclined towards them. He was somewhat crestfallen that this was the case, knowing that while Milya might be attracted to him, she never would have made that offer ordinarily. Her emotions were wreaking havoc on her mind right now, and he really was exhausted-he couldn’t afford to be distracted. And there was that prophecy Revan had spoken of, the one where he was meant to follow the solitary path. Having her now was the last thing he needed to do were he to finish this quest he had undertaken. He knew that Milya was quite possibly the desire of his heart, and he couldn’t let her distract him from his mission, however much he wanted to.
 * “Uh, I told Spectre that I’d check up on him,” he said, stalling.
 * “I’ll be waiting,” she replied.

Selu stopped again, trying to come up with a good way to defuse the situation. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to spring to mind.
 * “Milya, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said lamely.

She gave him a look that beckoned him to continue.
 * “Look, I’m tired-we’ve all been through a lot. Don’t get me wrong, it’s just, I-uh, look, I really need to go. Sleep well.”

With that, Selu hastily retreated, cursing himself for a thousand kinds of an idiot under his breath. Could you have possibly handled than any worse, Kraen? Might as well have slapped her across the face. It didn’t help him that he was still plagued by indecision, meaning that what he wanted and what he should do were two different things. In previous situations where he had faced that conflict, the results were not always pretty. He stormed back onto the bridge, his face warm with embarrassment. He spent the rest of the trip either keeping an eye on the ship or trying to catch some sleep in the uncomfortable captain’s chair. When he finally succeeded, his mind mercilessly plagued him with thoughts of what could have been. All in all, it was not a pleasant trip for Selu, as he and Milya purposefully avoided the other, with awkwardness that was almost palpable.
 * Corrupter

Imperial Captain Jack Nebulax stood in the hangar bay as the last three shuttles made their way back up to Corrupter from Darlyn Boda. The hangar was colder, closer to the freezing vacuum of space, but Nebulax paid no heed to the temperature difference. Nor did the crewers scurrying about bother him. He kept his facial expression icy-cold as the tiny dots of the approaching shuttles grew larger and larger. It helped muffle the outrage he had shown earlier upon seeing the preliminary casualty reports. He had already vented his wrath on Convarion and the ground troop commander via comlink, but the sight of seeing so many of his troop complement returned to Corrupter badly injured or dead, along with the destruction of several of his fighters had inflamed his anger. Nebulax, though he would rarely admit it, did care about the troops under his command and to see them blatantly misused when something as simple as an orbital bombardment could have dealt with the threat was appalling to him.

The incoming shuttles breached the containment and slowly set down in the hangar bay, their repulsorlifts whining slowly to a halt as black-clad medics stood by with hoverstretchers to receive more casualties. Indeed, the first few out of the first two shuttles were mostly wounded, accompanied by one or two medics. These were the least injured he had seen all day, the walking wounded, but the blood-spattered uniforms were enough to ignite Nebulax’s fury once more. Finally, out of the third shuttle, three individuals debarked. First came his troop commander, his face worn and haggard, the look of a man who’d seen far too much death in one day. Following him was Convarion, his own expression somewhere between resignation and shock. Last, Ajaur stalked off the shuttle, a dark cloud of anger almost visible around him as he stormed off towards his private chambers. The two other officers stopped short of Nebulax and saluted.
 * “Colonel Kenton,” Nebulax addressed his troop commander first.
 * “Captain.”
 * “You did as well as could be expected. Deliver the final casualty and battle reports to me tomorrow. Dismissed.”
 * “Aye, Captain.”

The short, stoop-shouldered army man made his exit stiffly, but relieved that Nebulax hadn’t seen fit to chastise him further.
 * “Convarion?”
 * “Lieutenant Convarion reporting, sir.”
 * “And what is it that you are reporting, lieutenant?” Nebulax growled. “Perhaps you’re here to tell me about the loss of fifty-six soldiers, another hundred or more injured. Or perhaps you want to tell me about the fighters we lost? What exactly are you reporting, lieutenant?”
 * “Reporting for further orders and debriefing, sir,” Convarion said slowly, keeping his eyes firmly fixed forward and his body at stiff attention.
 * “Orders be damned!” Nebulax roared in Convarion’s face. “This was a kriffing disaster! On every level, but especially yours!”
 * “Sir, this officer doesn’t know the meaning of your statement. Sir.”
 * “It means that I placed you down there to keep track of our troops and make sure that nothing idiotic was happening! You come back to me with a kriffing load of casualties and, not only that, but a ship got away!”

Nebulax knew how bad it looked to see the captain shouting vitriol at the executive officer in front of the crew, but he didn’t care. He was livid, his face red and eyes glaring at the junior officer.
 * “Perhaps you should take it up with Inquisitor Ajaur, sir,” Convarion stated.
 * “What do you mean?”
 * “It was his attack plan. Colonel Kenton and I were given no choice in the matter at all.”
 * “I see,” Nebulax said, calming down a little, but his voice lost none of its hostile edge. “When we get to the next port, I will contact High Command about our friend the Inquisitor then. And we’ll show him that he’s not the only one with friends in high places.”

Convarion was perplexed by Nebulax’s statement, but he didn’t allow that emotion to register. He was simply there to take whatever verbal outrage the captain spewed and wouldn’t do anything until ordered to. When Nebulax got in one of his moods, it was simply the best thing to do. He, too, was tired and worn from the fierce battle. Convarion had no desire to get in between Ajaur and Nebulax; he feared the first and distrusted the other. If all had gone his way, he would have readily pitted them against each other and dealt with the survivor as needed. However, that was not the case, so he stood there stolidly, weathering his superior’s anger.

However, Nebulax’s tirade was interrupted by his comlink chirping. Reaching into his pocket, he dug the device out, glaring at it. Thumbing it on, he growled into the receiver.
 * “Captain Nebulax, here.”
 * “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we just received a high-priority distress call.”
 * “How high?”
 * “Sir, I’m not even sure what I’m looking at. All I know is that we’ve been requested to immediately make for the Hoth system to aid an Imperial vessel.”
 * “I’m on my way,” Nebulax said. “Helm, set a course for Hoth.”
 * “Aye, sir.”

Nebulax turned off the comlink.
 * “We’ll finish this discussion at a later time, Lieutenant,” he said to Convarion. “For now, you’re with me. Up to the bridge.”
 * “Aye, sir.”

Nebulax practically sprinted to the bridge, urging the turbolift to move faster. As soon as he was there, he strode over to the communications display, Convarion in tow.
 * “What’s going on here?” he demanded.
 * “Here’s the transmission, sir,” relayed the officer on duty.

Nebulax pulled it up and, when prompted, entered his security code and rank cylinder authorization. His eyes scanned the screen as he read the message, widening when he realized the gravity of the situation.
 * “Set immediate course for Hoth,” he said, urgency apparent in his voice. “Flank speed. I want us there two hours ago!”
 * “Aye, sir,” replied the startled navigation officer. “Laying it in now.”
 * “If I may ask, sir, what is it?” Convarion asked.
 * “Our pirate friends from earlier are attacking the special envoy of the Emperor himself,” Nebulax said. “And we seem to be the nearest Imperial vessel.”
 * “I take it we’re going to disavow them of that notion?” Convarion said grimly.
 * “Oh, indeed, Lieutenant, indeed. I’m tired of that Captain Sulan’bask surviving-he’s far too stupid to be that good. He will feel the wrath of the Imperial Navy.”

Turning to the ship communications system, he sent out a message to the entire vessel.
 * “This is the captain. We are setting course for Hoth to aid a high-ranking Imperial official. This mission is vital to the Empire and I expect every crewmember to give maximum effort. Failure to do so will be regarded as insubordination. All hands, prepare for combat.”

Nebulax stalked the bridge again as Corrupter made the jump to lightspeed. The Hoth system wasn’t far; if the envoy put up a good fight, then they would make it. What Nebulax wanted to know was how a tiny pirate fleet had managed to work up the gall to attack what was no doubt a heavily guarded convoy. No matter; they would suffer the cost. The debacle on Darlyn Boda, Convarion, and even Ajaur temporarily forgotten, Nebulax had only one thing on his mind, and that was the utter defeat and destruction of that irritating little insect known as Sulan’bask. The pirate had become the focal point for his vexation and he would soon receive the punishment due to him.

It was unlike Nebulax to develop personal enemies, but he really had no feelings for the sort of piratical scum that paraded around the galaxy disrupting what the Empire, and the Republic before it had been trying to accomplish. They were like eddies in a current, unwanted and useful for nothing. Instead, they were vermin, who needed to be eliminated for the good of the galaxy. He held roughly the same opinion of Jedi. The galaxy had little use for a bunch of superstitious fools parading waving their hands and brandishing archaic weapons. What the galaxy needed was order, and a firm sense of control, on how exactly the course of the government was being plotted. That philosophy had served him well in his service to the New Order, and Nebulax looked upon it as a fresh breeze after the staleness of serving in the overly-politicized Republic. Unfortunately, he began to fear that the Empire might have cracks of its own. For example, he glowered with considerable spite, Ajaur. Apparently, the Emperor had decided that maintaining order required his own cadre of individuals who existed beyond the typical rank and file. While Ajaur might be effective at whatever it was that he did, Nebulax had little use for his methods and even less for his attitude. He smacked his gloved fist into his hand, wishing he could find a way to be rid of the nuisance that had plagued him for months. He still had a healthy fear of the Inquisitor personally-in a straight fight, he would lose badly, but Nebulax never sought fair fights. One way or another, this had to end.

19
The Observant shuddered as it reverted from hyperspace in the Hoth system, the starlines resolving into a more normal starfield, a black background pockmarked with the glittering brilliance of thousands of celestial bodies. They were here, the culmination of their labor. Jal Shey, Matukai, and Zeison Sha, against all odds united by the unlikeliest of candidates, were now working together for a common cause.
 * “Spectre, do you have the Hawk-bat?” Selu asked.
 * “About two million kilometers off on heading oh-five-nine,” Spectre reported. “They’re with another ship.”
 * “Set a course,” Selu said. “It’s time to see some old friends again.”

Feeding more power to the sublight engines, he sent the ship accelerating towards his ship, an ache of longing for the familiar decks and faces filling him. While he had often been too occupied to think about, he missed the carefree life of a smuggler. Being sent on this grand mission had been the last thing on his mind before he had encountered Revan, but the Force had led him here. It was his destiny.
 * “New contact!” Spectre reported. “Heading one-six-seven, mark three. One million kilometers!”
 * “What is it?”
 * “Imperials. There’s two of them. One large ship I can’t make out, and a light cruiser, probably Carrack-class.”
 * “It’s a trap!” Selu shouted. “Get me a course out of here!”
 * “On it,” Spectre said. “We’ll have to pass close by them, though, if we want to meet with the Hawk-bat.”
 * “Make it quick,” Selu said. “I don’t feel like dealing with the Empire right now.”
 * “Wait,” Spectre reported. “There are more ships here. They’re not Imperial.”
 * “Not Imperial?”
 * “No. From the looks of it, they’re attacking the Imperial ships.”
 * “Great,” Selu said. “A diversion. Let’s get out of here while it lasts.”
 * “My thoughts exactly.”
 * “Call Sarth and Cassi. Let them know what we’re doing,” Selu said. “We’ll jump to lightspeed as soon as we can.”

Suddenly, a massive warship reverted from hyperspace almost right on top of them. A Victory-class Star Destroyer bristling with armaments, the craft was certainly Imperial and so close it filled the bridge viewport.
 * “Going evasive! It’s a kriffing trap!” Selu shouted, as he hauled on the controls.

The Observant rolled and vectored away from the Star Destroyer’s bulk as Selu put on maximum power away from it. The lights dimmed as he cut in auxiliary power, and several of the Matukai were thrown around roughly as the ship’s inertial compensators strained to adjust for Selu’s violent maneuvers.”
 * “They’ve separated us from the Hawk-bat,” Spectre reported. “The only way to get to them is right past that destroyer.”
 * “Sarth,” Selu said, punching on the ship’s communication system and activating the encryption. “Get out of here! Go to Yanibar. We’ll catch up later, but get your people to safety.”
 * “On it,” Sarth said. “We’ll meet you there.”

Selu snapped off the comm and returned his focus to flying.
 * “Where are we going?” Spectre asked.
 * “Into the middle of that battle. It’ll be easier to lose them there.”
 * “Is that a good idea?”
 * “No, but I’m out of good ideas,” Selu replied, toggling on the intercom and assuming a glibly cheerful voice reminiscent of a spaceliner captain. “Everyone, this is the captain speaking. We will be entering a combat zone soon, so I advise everyone to wake up, find any appropriate weapons or clothing, and find a good place to strap yourself in. That’s all. Enjoy your flight.”

Nebulax rapped his hands against the armrest of his chair as the Corrupter emerged from hyperspace in the Hoth system, a desolate place with little interest ordinarily. Rushing into battle blindly was not his forte, but he had no choice. Suddenly, a much smaller vessel corkscrewed violently off the port side. Turbolaser batteries started to track it, but Convarion waved it off.
 * “Hold fire,” he ordered over the ship’s intercom. “It’s Imperial.”
 * “Curious, though,” Nebulax said, half to himself as he stared at the fleeing ship. “It actually might not be.”
 * “Do you want me to belay that order, sir?” Convarion asked, confused.
 * “Just look, Lieutenant. If it was an Imperial ship, it should have identified itself and then remained in formation with us. No, we’ve seen this ship before, back at Darlyn Boda.”
 * “The escaped ship from the raid, sir?”
 * “Indeed. It’s the same class and behaving most erratically for an Imperial scout ship.”
 * “Shall we open fire then?”
 * “No, they’re much too far away now. We’d never hit them.”
 * “So we’re not going after them, sir?”
 * “As much as I would like to, Lieutenant, our duty here is to ensure that the Imperial envoy is defended. After that, we will see to that mystery escaping ship.”
 * “Aye, sir. What are your orders?”
 * “Bring us into the engagement at maximum speed. Gunnery crews are ordered to open fire as soon as targets present themselves. Hail the Imperial ships.”
 * “Patching through now, sir,” reported the communications officer.
 * “This is Captain Nebulax of the Corrupter,” Nebulax said. “What is your status?”
 * “Lieutenant Vrossh of the Griffin, reporting,” responded a rather youthful voice. We are under heavy pirate attack and our escort cruiser is severely damaged. We’re outgunned here.”
 * “Set your course on a vector towards us, Lieutenant,” Nebulax said. “We’ll be there in less than a minute.”
 * “Acknowledged, sir. Griffin out.”

Nebulax thought it was rather strange that a high-ranking Imperial official would travel on as inelegant a beast as the Griffin seemed to be. Furthermore, the officer in charge seemed to be of rather low rank, unless the craft was nothing more than an oversized cargo barge. However, those irregularities, while puzzling, were not relevant to his current mission, so he dismissed them from his mind and returned to the battle.
 * “Launch one squadron of fighters to break up the Griffin’s attackers! Have our remaining half-squadron form up to screen us.”

The white arrowhead of the Corrupter plunged resolutely forward, closing on the vicious battle between the outnumbered Imperial ships and their pirate attackers. Its arrival should have signaled the scattered retreat of the pirates, but the marauders did not waver, setting themselves up for a mass annihilation courtesy of the Corrupter’s guns.

The Observant shot straight into the fray as Selu wove through complex patterns of laser bolts and opposing craft. Several passing fighters attempted to take a shot at him, but as the scout ship was doing little other than offering up token fire at craft who ventured too close, most of them found more interesting targets to attack. The fight seemed more like a confused brawl than an ordered engagement, with the Imperial ships replying piecemeal against the uncoordinated attacks of the pirates. Unfortunately, while flying through the battle zone made them harder to track on sensors, their irregular course meant that their progress was slowed.
 * “What kind of Imperial ship is that?” Selu said as they approached a strange, boxy looking craft under heavy attack.
 * “Don’t know. It’s not anything I’ve ever seen,” Spectre said. “It’s not that heavily armed for its size. Maybe a transport.”
 * “That’s probably why these people are attacking it. They’re probably pirates. See, those are boarding shuttles headed for that transport.”
 * “Awfully well-equipped pirates,” Spectre remarked. “That’s a Providence-class cruiser over there pounding on that Carrack.”
 * “We’ll be through this in a minute,” Selu said. “Then, out of here, on our way to Yanibar. Might even be a good time to drop off our Imperial prisoners.”

Then he felt it, a sensation in the Force. More than a thousand sentients were experiencing anxiety and fear, and not just the normal fears of battle either. Selu had seen enough action to know that emotion; no, this was something different, like the cry of someone trapped inside a burning building. He swallowed hard and tried to move past it, but as they approached the transport, the feeling just got stronger. He had to do something.
 * “Selu, where are you going?” Sarth asked. “You’re headed right for that transport.”
 * “Uh, I’m going to fly really close to it,” he said. “That destroyer is the exact same one from Darlyn Boda and I want to make sure that we lose it for good.”
 * “That destroyer probably isn’t even here for us. They didn’t fire at us when they first spotted us, no tractors or anything. It’s probably here to help that transport.”
 * “Right. Probably. I’m not taking any chances.”
 * “So instead we’re skimming the hull of a transport in the middle of a battle?”
 * “Relax,” Selu said. “They probably can’t even hit us.”

Just then, the ship shuddered as a nearby proton torpedo detonation rocked the stern of the vessel. Sparks and smoke flew from the overhead consoles and red warning lights lit up across Selu’s control boards.
 * “Shields out!” Spectre reported. “One fighter on our stern, closing fast.”
 * “Daara, get rid of him,” Selu shouted to the Twi’lek, who was manning the gunner’s turret.
 * “I’m trying,” she shouted. “He’s pretty good!”
 * “Just what I needed. A hotshot pirate trying to toast my ship,” Selu said.

The Observant rocked again as laser blasts began pelting the stern, despite all of Selu’s jinking and juking. The scout ship was no starfighter, and certainly didn’t handle like one. Green laser bolts sailed by the forward viewport from the pirate’s misses, and while they failed to connect most of the time, Selu also knew that the Observant hadn’t been built with an armored hull in mind.

Unexpectedly, the pirate disappeared from Selu’s sensors and a look at his stern holocams showed a rapidly contracting fireball dissipating behind him.
 * “Did you get him?” he asked Daara.
 * “It wasn’t me,” she replied.
 * “You’re all clear,” Sarth’s voice crackled through the speaker.
 * “You’re supposed to be in hyperspace!” Selu shot back.
 * “Did you honestly think I would leave you to find more trouble by yourself? The others already left. Besides, thank you will do.”
 * “Thank you,” Selu said. “Oh, shavit.”
 * “What’s wrong?”
 * “Hyperdrive’s gone. On the Hawk-bat, I might be able to patch something together, but not on this Imperial piece of junk.”
 * “What do we do?” Sarth asked.

Selu thought about it for a moment.
 * “I'm on to something,” he said.

Whipping the Observant around as fast as its damaged control surfaces and engines would allow, he began heading straight towards the large Imperial transport’s hangar.

Watching from the bridge of the Hawk-bat, Sarth Kraen stared incredulously at his brother’s actions.
 * “What in space is he doing?” he asked.
 * “He’s going to land on that transport,” Cassi said. “Follow him in!”
 * “Here goes nothing,” Sarth grumbled, shoving the throttle forward. “Brace yourself, Cassi. This’ll be a hard landing.”
 * “Stand by!” Spectre roared to the other people on the ship as the hangar bay loomed in front of them. “We’re going in hot!”

A laser turret guarding the hangar opened up on them, scoring a few glancing hits on the Observant, but nothing fatal. Instead, Sarth armed a proton torpedo and blew it into metallic space dust as both ships roared into the hangar.

The Observant hit first, its bulk breaching the containment field and temporarily overloading it. Unlucky personnel and unsecured pieces of equipment were instantly sucked out into the vacuum before the field flickered and re-established itself. Not bothering with landing gear, the scout ship slid to a stop on its nose in a shower sparks, skidding across the now empty hangar deck, which was now littered with wreckage. The Hawk-bat arrived second and much more sedately, coming to an abrupt but controlled landing as its landing gear lowered to absorb the impact. This time, the magcon field around the hangar held, preventing another catastrophic loss of air pressure.

Selu emerged first, followed closely by Spectre, weapons held at the ready. Following close behind were four of the Matukai with a mix of wan-shens and blasters. Milya, Sarth, Daara, and Cassi brought up the rear.
 * “Two of you take each door,” Selu ordered the Matukai concerning the two entrances from the hangar to the rest of the ship. “Give us a second here.”

They nodded and took up positions flanking each door that would allow them to deliver a nasty surprise to any Imperials that came walking through.
 * “What’s the plan, Selu?” Sarth asked.
 * “Let’s just load everyone on the Hawk-bat,” suggested Cassi.
 * “Not so fast,” Selu replied. “First of all, this is a transport, and apparently a very valuable one, or else the Empire wouldn’t be so concerned with keeping it out of pirate hands. Second, we’re already here. We might as well do some damage.”
 * “What kind of damage?” Spectre asked.
 * “I don’t know, but I’m willing to bet we could take it over. The ship’s crew already has their hands full with the pirates.”
 * “Take the ship over? Are you insane?” Sarth asked.
 * “I’ve been called worse. You with me?”
 * “Kraen, you’re not turning into the arrogant Jedi, are you?” Daara asked.
 * “No,” Selu said. “There’s something else. I sensed a large number of alien presences on this ship as we flew by-scared, and alarmed. I think this is a prison ship, and if the prisoners are enemies of the Empire, they could use our help.”
 * “Selu, do you really want to unleash a group of convicts?” Cassi asked.
 * “Depends-do you think they’re actually convicts?” he replied. “Are we going to stand here talking, or are we going to shipjack this thing? Who’s with me?”
 * “I guess I’m in,” Sarth said.
 * “Me too,” Cassi spoke up.
 * “Count me in,” Spectre affirmed.
 * “It’s a good day to beat up on the Empire,” Daara sounded off nonchalantly.
 * “How about you, Milya?” Selu asked. “Are you up for it?”
 * “Yes,” she said slowly. “Justice for Bolfwé and Jahlel can start here.”
 * “Fine by me, but make sure that it’s justice, not revenge, that you’re going after,” Selu said.
 * “Don’t worry, Selu” she said. “I won’t go all dark-side on you now.”
 * “All right, let’s go then. Grab your gear,” he said. “The rest of the Matukai can stay here and watch the ships.”
 * “Not so fast,” spoke up one of them, a female Falleen named Xlora and a Twi’lek male, Kacheen. “We’re coming too.”
 * “If you insist,” Selu said. “Just don’t do anything crazy and do as you’re told, just this once.”

The two Matukai nodded and the rest of them headed back to their respective ships to grab additional weapons and gear for the assault on the Griffin. Just as Milya was turning away, Selu grabbed her arm, stopping her.
 * “Wait, Milya,” he said.

She turned back to give him a dubious gaze.
 * “Yes?”
 * “Look, about earlier . . .”
 * “Forget about it, Selu,” she replied sharply. “You were right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
 * “Milya, I-,” Selu started, but she had turned and walked back to the ship.

“I just want you to understand,” he finished lamely, speaking to the air. A few minutes later, they assembled, ready for war. Spectre cast a menacing sight in his full armor, his lightsaber dangling from his belt. Sarth and Cassi still wore their ship’s clothes, but had blasters riding in holsters to compliment the lightsabers on the other side of their belts. Selu was still in his spacer’s garb also, but his lightsaber, shoto, and blaster were no longer in the concealed pocket of his leather jacket, having been moved to his belt for quick access. Milya emerged from the Hawk-bat clad in a form-fitting black combat jumpsuit complete with web gear to hold equipment and a sizable combat knife to compliment her saberstaff, her hair tightly pinned up against her head and a professionally icy expression on her face. Everyone had earpiece comlinks that Selu had found on the Observant, even Daara. They were ready.
 * “Let’s do it,” Selu said, and they moved out.

They stormed through the corridor of the ship, Selu, Milya, and Spectre in the lead. The first few halls had been deserted, the occasional blaster score or dead body marking scenes where scattered blaster fights had occurred. Several moments into their raid, they encountered a pair of stormtroopers, who immediately raised their rifles and poured blaster fire at them. However, Selu and Milya deflected each bolt of energy effortlessly and Spectre put them down with tight groupings of shots. Kneeling down at the first body, he peeled off the helmets to reveal the steaming and blistered, but still recognizable faces of Jango Fett.
 * “I’m sorry, Spectre,” Selu said. “I didn’t know.”
 * “I did. The way they stood, the way they fired-that was enough. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” Spectre replied, emotionless behind his full armor and helmet. “I’m not on their side any more.”

With little time to waste, the party moved on, advancing swiftly but cautiously, weapons at the ready. Most of the corridors seemed deserted, though they passed through several areas where khaki-uniformed bodies of slain Imperials were intermingled with the motley-outfitted bodies of slain pirates in full battle regalia. Aside from the humming of the ship’s machinery and the distant sounds of the battle outside, it was eerily quiet. The stench of death and battle was in the air; the ship’s air scrubbers had yet to purge it. Selu and Milya kept their lightsabers out but not lit-the telltale glow would give them away and they had no desire to draw too much attention to themselves. Spectre was still using his blaster, though; he still didn’t feel at ease using the Jedi weapon around others. Slowly, they crept closer towards the ship’s bridge, and the signs of violence increased, but there was no sign of any living being aside from themselves.

Suddenly, the sounds of distant blasterfire grew louder as they approached one of the ship’s crew quarter compartments. Peering around the corner, Selu saw a group of about two dozen heavily armed pirates of various species pouring blaster and slugthrower fire at what appeared to be two or three stormtroopers and maybe twice that many crewers ducked behind a group of upturned beds. From the looks of things, the Imperials didn’t have long to last.

Then, two of the stormtroopers stood up and began directing a withering fire that sent most of the pirates ducking for cover. As they did so, the third trooper leapt over the barricade and charged forward, firing wildly from the hip with his blaster rifle, a gleaming bayonet fixed to it. He hit two or three of the pirates in his wild dash even as his comrades ducked back down. By the time they realized what had happened, he was upon them, firing from point-blank range, clubbing with the stock of his gun, jabbing with his bayonet. He took several hits, charring his armor, but paid them no mind. Finally, one of the pirates stood up and stitched a line of blaster bolts across his chest, felling him, but that exposed him to fire from the first two troopers, who, although injured, were still dealing out tremendous fire. Furthermore, the lone trooper’s mad charge had been enough to ruin the pirates’ position. A small charge was lobbed through the air and its detonation was enough to kill or maim most of the remaining pirates.

The two stormtroopers had paid for their efforts, though, and both of them collapsed next to the two remaining crewers. The seven remaining pirates charged forward, killing the two crewers and losing one in the first three seconds. They killed one of the troopers after he blasted two of them; one in the chest and one in the knee, sending the latter pirate down with a scream and a shout. However, the final four gathered around the last stormtrooper, who was still alive, but lying limply on the ground, wracked by pain. There was a rasp of metal against leather as one of the pirates, a Shistavanen, drew his pistol.
 * “Time to die, Imperial scum,” the wolfish pirate growled.
 * “Then I’ll see you in hell,” replied the trooper, releasing his hand from the pin it had been holding.

The arming pin of a thermal detonator. The resulting explosion left a nice charred mark on that end of the crew compartment. Selu’s group slowly advanced into the room, but there was no-one left alive. Stooping down to grab a comlink from one of the dead pirates who looked to be some sort of leader in case they needed to monitor pirate transmissions, Selu saw that the troopers had done their work. This particular boarding team had been stopped dead in their tracks, but at the cost of all the defenders.

On the bridge of the Griffin, nothing less than full pandemonium was occurring. They had dropped into the Hoth system for a routine navigation check only to be ambushed by a massive force of pirates, the same ones that had been shadowing them. Ship’s klaxons were wailing and people were scampering frantically around the room. The ship shuddered from repeated impacts and several control boards had already overloading, filling the bridge with smoke from the burned out circuitry.
 * “What is our status, Lieutenant Vrossh!” shouted Doriana as he burst into the bridge, steadying himself as the ship rocked back and forth.

His two guards, black-clad naval troopers also made a similar effort to keep their footing, but it was all they could do to not be sent sprawling. The noise was deafening and Doriana wasn’t sure at first if the lieutenant had heard him.
 * “The pirates are starting to break off!” Vorrsh replied at last. “They’re moving to engage the Corrupter, but we’re still being strafed by some of their fighters and small craft!”
 * “What about the Acrimonious?” Doriana yelled, referring to the Carrack-class light cruiser that had been their escort.
 * “All but destroyed. She’s drifting.”
 * “Are there still pirates on this ship?”
 * “Can’t say. We’ve taken quite a beating and I’m not sure I trust the sensors now.”

Sighing with exasperation, Doriana drew out his comlink and signaled Trip.
 * “Commander Trip, what is your status?”

Trip body-slammed a Trandoshan pirate full into a heavy bulkhead and delivered a devastating headbutt to finish him off. Whirling around, he blocked another pirate’s high knife thrust and trapped his hands, and then broke his wrists in a brutal unarmed hold. Seizing the vibroblade that had fallen from the pirate’s limp fingers, he rammed it home in between the human’s third and fourth ribs. The man convulsed once and collapsed to the floor, his life pouring from a destroyed chest cavity. As a blaster bolt barely scorched his helmet, Trip ducked, rolled, and came up with a blaster pistol in his hand. Firing three times, he put down the shooter and continued searching for targets as the rest of his squad dealt with the few other pirates. Another boarding party neutralized. It was the third he had dealt with so far.
 * “Sorry about that, Advisor,” he said finally into the comlink, sweat pouring down his face from inside his armor. “Been a bit busy over here. Starboard weapons blister is secure if you have crew to man it. We’ve eliminated several of the boarding teams, but I’m down to maybe a dozen troopers. They already destroyed the spider droids with EMP and ion grenades before we could activate most of them and my fire teams have been whittled down.”
 * “How much of the ship do they control?”
 * “At the moment, not much,” Trip replied. “According to our reports, they only have one team left, down in the port engine room. I’m moving to deal with them now.”
 * “Acknowledged, Commander. Doriana out.”

With that, Trip picked up his blaster rifle and replaced the spent power pack with a fresh one. Signaling the other five troopers to follow him, he moved towards the engine room, keyed up for the fight as the adrenaline surged through his system. The trooper squad burst into the port engine room like a furious thunderstorm, pouring bolts of brilliant energy into the unsuspecting pirates. Ten seconds after they entered, it was all over and six steaming pirate corpses with fresh blaster chars were lying on the metal deck staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Trip put his blaster away and nodded in silent congratulations to his troopers.
 * “Advisor Doriana, the port engine room is secure. Hostiles down.”
 * “Excellent work, Commander. Are you sure that’s all of them?”
 * “I believe so. All of the boarding parties are accounted for. What are your orders?”
 * “We’ve lost contact with the stern hangar. It might be another group of pirates. Take your squad and check it out.”

Trip swore under his breath. That would mean slogging back through another half-kilometer of dimly-lit corridors to check out a hangar bay that had likely been hit by an errant torpedo. Outwardly, he displayed none of this irritation. He was a professional, and he’d do his job, whether he liked it or not.
 * “Will do.”

The clone commander consulted his wrist computer and determined that the fastest way to the stern hangar was to use the core turbolifts by the bridge. Signaling his team, they moved out. With any luck, they could handle this quickly and get back to the business of blasting the pirate ships. The fact that the Griffin had nearly been taken over by the lawless scum disturbed him. Sure, they had had the advantage of numbers, but something was wrong here. He checked his unit tallies. Despite the fact that all the pirate teams had been accounted for, two more of his troopers were not reporting. Mine perhaps? Booby trap? Possibly, but Trip doubted it. Pirates generally didn’t rig ships that they wanted to capture. He clicked his comlink on again.
 * “Advisor, Trip here. There is another pirate group on the ship. I’m checking their path now and will intercept.”
 * “Acknowledged.”

Trip once again fed the data into the wrist computer and realized that this last group, if they had come from the stern hangar, was en route to the bridge. Breaking into a double-time run, he and his squad raced back through the dizzying maze of corridors and passageways back towards the bridge. On the way, he found the bodies of his two missing soldiers. Both had been shot in the chest and the neck and the tight grouping of the hits indicated professionals. Not good. It seemed the pirates had saved their best group for last.

Rounding a corner to an access shaft that led to the bridge, Trip spotted them, seven of them, heavily armed. Stopping short, he flattened himself against the wall, blaster at the ready and the rest of his troops followed suit. However, their backs were to him and one of them seemed to be planting a demolition charge on the door to the bridge. He hadn’t been noticed yet. Holding up three fingers to his troops, he folded them down slowly, one by one, a timed signal to attack. As his last finger clenched into his fist, he grabbed his blaster and rolled around the corner, spraying blaster fire, knowing that the tight clustering of the pirates would allow even a wild shot to possible hit.

Cassi whirled as time slowed down. An armored stormtrooper with battered armor had just appeared from nowhere behind them and the sound of his blaster discharging was the first indication that he was there. However, the Force was with her. In the nanoseconds before the first energy bolt hit her, she managed to ignite her blade and bat the blast away into the wall. So this was it felt like to truly use the Force, unaided by the Force-heavy environment of Revan’s tower. She felt confident, in control, as her blade whipped back and forth, deflecting the next three bolts also. Sarth, standing beside her at the rear of the formation, was a hair slower and he was still bringing his lightsaber up when the first bolt hit. However, he half-dodged it, spinning so it only grazed his upper arm instead of hitting him in the chest. He grunted in pain, but kept his guard up, blocking the next bolt and the one after that.

Trip stared in astonishment even as his fingers kept pulling the trigger on his rifle. Jedi Knights, here? They were supposed to have been all killed years ago. Against two of them, in a narrow corridor, it would not be easy to kill them. Roaring orders to his men, he redoubled his fire, filling the hall with blaster bolts. The Jedi had to be kept at range.

Selu whirled as soon as the blasters started firing. To his relief, Cassi and Sarth had managed to bring up their guards and were holding off the troopers, but they weren’t deflecting all the blasts, as wild shots were ricocheting among them. With the two least-experienced warriors in the back, it would be hard to move through to get close enough to reach the troopers. Spectre might be able to put them down, but Sarth and Cassi were moving fast enough that they might be hit on accident by Spectre’s shots. He ignited both his blades as protection, but indecision plagued him for critical moments.
 * “Go for the bridge; I can take them,” Milya said. “Spectre, can you give me a bit of a lift?”

Spectre wordlessly grabbed Milya by her belt and the scruff of her neck while Selu gave them a curious expression, wondering what they were doing, even as he continued to bat away stray blaster bolts. Then, with a powerful heave, Spectre threw Milya forward at the troopers at the end of the corridor. As she flew through the air, aiding her ten meter flight with the Force, she ignited one end of her saberstaff, knocking away any blasts that threatened her. Rotating head over heels, she landed feet-first directly on a trooper’s chest, driving him to the ground as she sliced the head off another. Ducking low and spinning, she cleaved off another’s weapon arm in a single fluid motion even as she kicked another back with a Force-augmented roundhouse.
 * “Go for the bridge!” she shouted back at Selu and the others.

Sidestepping a flying tackle, she landed a piledriver blow on the now fallen trooper and used the momentum from her dive to roll up and skewer another through his midsection with her lightsaber. Whipping the weapon back, she finished off her would-be tackler, leaving one left. He fired once, twice, three times, but all his efforts were in vain as she deftly blocked each and every one. The third blast she sent directly back into his helmet, toppling him with a muffled scream. Then, her silver-white lightsaber blade hissing, she ran to catch up with the others on the bridge. As she did, though, a gloved hand grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her to ground, landing her on her head. She saw stars, then nothing.

The Corrupter waded into battle and immediately began dishing out devastating turbolaser strikes to the smaller pirate vessels, most of which immediately turned and fled from the warship. Several starfighters tried to make strafing runs on the Imperial destroyer, but those that survived the tenacious defense of her fighter screen were easy prey for the ship’s point-defense guns. Green turbolaser bolts and blue ion cannons sizzled out from the ship’s batteries, searching for targets. When they hit shields, a brief blue haze temporarily stalled the storm of energy, but the incessant bombardment wore them down and began rapidly burning through the hull metal. Nebulax stood firm on the bridge, barking out orders as he saw fit, directing the gunnery crews and starfighters to various targets. The Corrupter had already destroyed seven pirate vessels and the remainder was scrambling to get away. The Griffin seemed to be intact, for which he was grateful, but his sensors had shown that several boarding teams had reached the ship. However, his attention was suddenly diverted by a new blip on the sensor-screen, one that had previously been hidden behind the Griffin’s bulk. Nebulax stared at it incredulously, but it was no lie. Somewhere, the pirates had found another Providence-class cruiser.
 * “Guns, focus fire on that Providence. Aim for known weak points! Sensors, jam their targeting systems.”
 * “Aye, Captain.”
 * “Have our fighters sweep around and hit it with missiles. I want that cruiser dead and I want it dead now!” he shouted.
 * “Captain, incoming transmission from the cruiser.”

Nebulax turned to Convarion, who had been standing beside him, watching and waiting.
 * “Where’s Ajaur when you actually need him? I suppose I’ll put him through,” he muttered.

Nebulax straightened his uniform, waiting until the connection had been made.
 * “This is Captain Nebulax. Who the kriff are you and what do you want, pirate scum?”
 * “Ah, Captain, we meet again. I’m disappointed in you. Rumors of my demise seem to be greatly exaggerated.”
 * “Sulan’bask?”
 * “The one and the same, captain, and speaking to you from the fine ship Bloodwrath. I’ll give you a courtesy that you failed to show me last time, though, and offer you a chance for surrender.”
 * “You wish to surrender? Go ahead,” Nebulax taunted, then waved to his communications officer to shut the link off.
 * “Where does he keep getting those cruisers?” Convarion wondered aloud.
 * “Perhaps if he survives, he’ll be kind enough to tell us during interrogation,” Nebulax replied.
 * “Sir, they’re angling for torpedo locks,” reported the sensor officer.
 * “Captain, our shields won’t hold against a full barrage,” Convarion informed him.
 * “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Nebulax snapped. “Guns, fire on the target vessel on the coordinates I specify with all available turbolasers, on my mark. Sensors, drop primary sensor jamming in three seconds.”
 * “Drop sensor jamming, sir? They’ll have an easy lock on us!” Convarion exclaimed.
 * “Shut up or be dismissed, Convarion.”

Convarion took the first option, but a doubtful look remained on his face.
 * “Mark!” Nebulax said.

The Bloodwrath’s proton torpedoes received targeting data on Corrupter once its protective screen of sensor jamming lowered. Her captain fired a mass salvo of forty-one torpedoes at the Imperial destroyer as soon as they had locks. Such a spread would be enough to rip through a shield already damaged by the ship’s turbolasers and virtually destroy the Imperial destroyer were they to hit. Wary of being tricked like last time, Sulan’bask had his own point-defense systems ready to hit the missiles should Nebulax pull the same stunt as last time, and his fighters had already disabled one of the starboard ion cannons that the Imperial captain had used to fry his missiles. Also, their self-destructs were enabled, allowing him to detonate them if needed.

However, what he didn’t anticipate was Nebulax ordering his turbolasers to fire on the exact locations of the proton torpedoes as they exited their launching tubes. A dozen torpedoes detonated right against the Bloodwrath’s shields as the turbolasers hit directly on or around them. While the rest continued towards Corrupter, they were faced with re-intensified signal jamming and point-defense batteries that consumed or redirected all but nine of the torpedoes, enough to weaken Corrupter’s shields, but the protective hazy blue field of energy remained intact. The same could not be said for the Bloodwrath, though, which had completely lost its port shields.
 * “Guns,” Nebulax said through gritted teeth. “Take them apart.”

Selusda Kraen burst into the bridge of the Griffin with both blades at the ready as the door blew in, his comrades close behind. Two stormtroopers dropped into firing positions and opened up on him, but he returned their first two blasts back to their sources, dropping them in crumpled heaps of armor. There were fewer than ten crewers on the badly shaken bridge, and none of them seemed to want to fight.
 * “Drop your weapons,” Selu ordered sternly.

A clatter followed as the remaining personnel dropped their sidearms.
 * “Get up, and stand over in this corner. Xlora, Kacheen, keep an eye on them.”

The Matukai acknowledged the order silently, herding the Imperials over to one corner where they could be easily dealt with if any of them made a wrong move.
 * “Sarth, get over here and help me pilot this thing,” Selu said. “Spectre, Daara, watch the exits. It’s time to get out of here.”

Extinguishing his blades, he slid into the pilot’s seat and began engaging the ship’s engines, which though sluggish, were still functional. Cassi found the navigator’s station and began keying for a hyperspace course out of the Hoth system, while Sarth located a tactical officer’s control board.
 * “Shields are pretty weak, Selu. We still have limited fire control, but not much.”
 * “Can we operate the guns from here?”
 * “Yes, but only about half of them are online and there weren’t many to begin with.”
 * “That’s fine,” Selu said. “We just need enough to keep that destroyer busy until we can escape.”

The Griffin sped up, but was still moving towards the Corrupter, intent on using the destroyer’s bulk to shield it from the pirates’ fire. Nebulax recognized the maneuver, but continued to focus his attention on the Bloodwrath, which was rapidly falling apart under sustained fire after losing its shields.
 * “Captain Nebulax, our fighters report that all of the smaller pirate ships and fighters have been destroyed,” reported Convarion.
 * “Give them my congratulations,” Nebulax said. “Order them to engage the Bloodwrath, but to beware of still-functional batteries.”
 * Back on the Griffin, a niggling thought had been bothering Selu, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Then, just as he began approaching the Corrupter, it came to him.
 * “Spectre,” he called. “Where’s Milya?”

The ex-ARC stiffened.
 * “I don’t know.”
 * “Better go find her then,” said Selu nonchalantly, but a ripple of fear passed down his spine, setting the sweat-soaked hair on his neck standing upright.

He hoped that Milya was alive and well, but wasn’t sure what to expect. Now, of all times, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Suddenly, his comlink began buzzing, but not his earpiece. Reaching down to his belt, he pulled out the one he had retrieved from the dead pirate and activated it.
 * “L’ladrab? L’ladrab, are you there?” rasped a harsh Devaronian voice. “Have you taken the bridge yet?”
 * “L’ladrab’s dead,” Selu informed him. “But the Empire is no longer in control of this ship.”
 * “Who is this? Who’s there?”
 * “The name’s Micor Kraen. I’m from an, uh, independent group hostile to the Empire.”
 * “Micor, whoever you are, if you’re against the Empire, then we’re allies for now. All my other ships are gone and they’re tearing the Bloodwrath apart.”
 * “Give me a moment.”

Selu snapped off the comlink and turned to Sarth.
 * “I need firing solutions for that Imperial ship.”
 * “Got it!” Sarth replied. “Guns are standing by to hit that ship, the, uh, Corrupter.”
 * “Fire!” Selu said crisply.

The dozen or so laser cannons, turbolasers, and ion cannons that the Griffin could still bring to bear opened up on the relatively unshielded port side, tearing into the hull armor and exposing entire compartments to space. Green turbolaser blasts seared the hull, scorching through it like a hot knife through durasteel. Weapons turrets exploded and atmosphere was vented until bulkheads slid into place to seal the breaches. The ship shuddered from the surprise attack and gouts of flame from areas that still had access to oxygen sprouted from its port side.

Nebulax was thrown to the floor by the sudden barrage. Alarms wailed through the bridge as the ship tried to absorb the damage inflicted against it. Staggering to his feet, he turned to Convarion.
 * “Report!”
 * “The Griffin has opened fire on us, sir” Convarion said. “They’ve apparently been taken over. Moderate damage to the port side.”
 * “Return fire with port ion cannons. Have them aim for the weapons,” Nebulax said. “Even out our shields to cover both our flanks, but continue blasting the Bloodwrath. It can’t take much more. Having boarding parties ready to seize the Griffin back.”
 * “Aye, sir.”

Nebulax broke out his comlink again and dialed it to a little-used frequency.
 * “Inquisitor Ajaur,” he said.
 * “Yes, Captain?” replied Ajaur’s voice in a sibilant hiss.

The Inquisitor had already been dismissive of their latest mission and had stayed in his quarters, ostensibly meditating, after the raid on Darlyn Boda, but Nebulax needed him now.
 * “The Griffin has been taken by pirates, and a high-ranking Imperial envoy is onboard. Your presence in the boarding teams would greatly speed up the recovery of the vessel.”
 * “I’ll be on my way to the hangar, then,” Ajaur said sourly. “This time, Captain. I am not your errand-boy.”
 * “Of course not,” Nebulax assured him.

Turbolaser salvoes in the form of brilliant streams of energy flowed between both sides of the Corrupter now as the two weaker ships attempted to bring the menacing Imperial warship down. However, the Bloodwrath was already weakened, and its fire was sporadic, its maneuvering ungainly at best. Despite being outnumbered, Nebulax was winning. His fighters continued to prosecute damage on the Providence-class cruiser and much of Sulan’bask’s crew had already been killed.

Spectre walked out of the bridge alert, already knowing that something was wrong. There, standing at the edge of the corridor was an armored clone trooper, dragging Milya along in front of him, a blaster pointed at her head. Spectre immediately pointed his blaster at the trooper, but didn’t open fire. There was no guarantee that the trooper wouldn’t kill Milya before Spectre shot him.
 * “Drop the blaster or she dies,” ordered the trooper.

Spectre complied, slowly setting down his WESTAR-5M blaster rifle on the deck, his mouth curving up in a wicked smile. He still had his sidearm and blaster pistol, which was more than enough to kill the clone trooper, but the difficult thing would be keeping Milya alive. Reaching out with the Force, he got an impression of her feelings: scared, a bit dizzy, angry, but otherwise unharmed. Good.
 * “Since when do clone troopers take hostages?” Spectre taunted.
 * “Since when do pirates wear Imperial armor?”
 * “Let’s just say I earned the right to wear this.”

Spectre doffed his helmet, revealing his face, the face of Jango Fett and of countless millions of others, grown in vats and bred for war.
 * “That was before I realized that the Empire wasn’t worth dying for.”
 * “Clone troopers don’t desert their brothers, their people,” snarled the other trooper.
 * “What’s the matter? Afraid of having your illusions shattered-Commander, is it? I’m far from the first Fett clone to go rogue; you’ve just never heard of the others. It’s all been kept from you by your superiors. Bad for morale, you know.”
 * “Who are you?” demanded the other.
 * “Who am I or who was I?” Spectre replied lightly. “Back when I only had a designation, they called me Alpha-28. You can call me Spectre. Now, let her go.”
 * “Spectre?” the other trooper asked incredulously. “That’s impossible. I can’t believe you’re a kriffing traitor.”
 * “Have we met before?” Spectre answered offhandedly. “Look, I’ll be happy to fight you however you want, man-to-man, blasters, whatever, but leave the girl out.”
 * “She is an enemy combatant.”
 * “She’s also your prisoner. You’re gonna kill your prisoner? Because if you do, there’s no way I’m going to make your passing pleasant. Don’t get me wrong, you’ll still die no matter what you do, but the method is up to you.”
 * “As you wish,” the other trooper replied sardonically.

Lifting his blaster away from Milya’s neck, he whipped the barrel onto the side of her head, knocking her out. He released her limp body and she collapsed to the floor. Casually, he stepped on her stomach as he walked towards Spectre, sending a dark fury into Spectre’s eyes.
 * “All right, traitor, it’s just you and me. Man-to-man, no weapons,” challenged the trooper.
 * “Sure thing, but you’re forgetting something: I am a weapon.” replied Spectre, and they both tossed aside their side arms and closed toward each other, hands high in a standard guard, circling each other slowly.
 * “You were pretty bad news on Boz Pity, Spectre. Tore up a lot of Seps, but you always did have a soft spot for Jedi. Now I see they’ve ruined you; you’re one of them now.”

The trooper lashed out with a hard right that Spectre was just a bit too slow to block and it clipped him on the side of head, rocking him back and drawing blood where the armored knuckles had hit him.
 * “That must make you CC-3433,” Spectre said. “You know, I didn’t even regret pulling you from that fire during the war.”
 * “Small galaxy,” replied Trip as they circled each other warily once more. “You can call me Trip.”

He moved in for another punch, but this time Spectre saw it coming. Trapping the arm, he sidestepped and twisted, sending Trip to his knees, following it up with a kick to his back.
 * “No,” Spectre replied. “I’ll just call you dead meat.”
 * “Not so fast,” roared Trip, sweeping out Spectre’s feet from under him with a vicious ankle hook.

Spectre stumbled to catch his footing, but by then, Trip was up and on top of him, landing furious but devastatingly precise blows that Spectre was only able to partially deflect. As Spectre doubled over, Trip rocked him back with a side kick to the head sent him staggering back. The clone commander advanced, slamming him into a wall and delivering a powerful head-butt to Spectre’s face. When he drew back, his visor and helmet were bloodied, but it wasn’t Trip’s blood. Throwing Spectre bodily to his knees, Trip launched into a doubled-fisted hammer punch aimed at the back of Spectre’s neck, a fatal blow.

However, it never landed. Spectre, weary and bloodied, let the Force flow through him instead of his own strength, as he had been doing, and, by allowing it to guide him, saw the blow coming. Putting all his power into a forward roll, he allowed Trip’s fists to graze his back, but, as Spectre’s legs came up, they hooked around the back of Trip’s legs, launching him forward over Spectre’s head. The commander collided heavily with the metal deck, and Spectre pounced square on Trip’s back, one of his feet landing heavily on the back of Trip’s left knee. Something crunched. Grabbing Trip’s right arm, he grabbed and pulled it behind the clone commander’s back with enough force that the popping sound that accompanied its dislocation was audible even through the armor. Trip attempted to throw Spectre off, but the ex-ARC’s response was to grab his helmet and bash it into the ground. While the interior would cushion the blow, Trip would still feel it. The commander attempted to throw him off again, but this time Spectre went with it, sliding up and forward as his right arm encircled Trip’s torso and his left whipped across Trip’s suddenly exposed neck. Spectre sat forward in a hip strangle, splaying his legs out for balance as he pulled with all his might. Trip gurgled and flailed, but his battered left knee couldn’t support him in a position to counter Spectre’s move.

Despite assurances from the Kaminoans that it was impossible to choke a trooper in full armor, there were ways to do so and Spectre knew them. Inside his helmet, Trip felt spots begin to form around his vision as waves of pain shot up and down his body, from his useless right arm to his smashed knee. The last thought he had before everything went black was how could he beat me?

As Trip’s body went limp, Spectre slowly let go, releasing a stored-in breath and several kilograms of tension. Rising quickly, he made his way over to Milya’s prone form, cupping her face in his battered and dirty glove. Pulling it off, he felt her pulse and was relieved to find she was alive. She stirred, her eyelids slowly fluttering open.
 * “Wha-what happened?”
 * “You’re fine,” said Spectre. “I took care of him.”
 * “Or did you?” Trip snarled.

Somehow the clone commander had managed to rise and bring up his blaster pistol in his left hand, aiming it right at Spectre’s heart. There wasn’t time to shout to Trip to drop the gun; his finger was already cracking the trigger. Suddenly, a brilliant yellow bar of light flashed in between the blaster’s muzzle and Spectre as he called his lightsaber from the floor, igniting it with a snap-hiss even as Trip fired. The red bolt bounced off the blade and, angled slightly, returned to bury itself in Trip’s gut. Trip tried to fire again, but he couldn’t find the strength to do so and the blaster slipped from nerveless fingers. Spectre called the lightsaber back to his hand and advanced towards Trip, who was still alive but fading fast.
 * “You’re gut-shot,” he informed the dying man. “Bad way to die.”
 * “Kriff you,” Trip hissed.
 * “For what it’s worth, I never hated you.”

As Trip expired, Spectre deactivated his lightsaber and walked back to the bridge, calling Cassi forward. In a moment, she ran back with a purloined medpac to attend to the gash on the side of Milya’s head where Trip had pistol-whipped her. After casting a concerned gaze over the injury, Cassi gave Milya an encouraging smile.
 * “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll be fine. Your head was plenty hard enough; the gun didn’t even fracture your skull.”

Applying a small bandage to her head, Cassi and Spectre then helped Milya up and walked her back to the bridge, supporting her on either side. As Spectre passed by Trip’s dead body, he couldn’t help but feel remorse welling up within him for the life he had taken, but it was too late for any regrets now. The Corrupter rained turbolaser fire like raindrops on the Bloodwrath, battering the already damaged vessel. Its sleek lines were reduced to molten globs of glowing, superheated metal, but the ship held together and a single stern turbolaser battery roared in defiance at the Imperial destroyer’s bridge, sending a spike of energy into the Corrupter’s command tower, but missing the bridge. All three vessels had already lost shield integrity, but they continued hammering each other with unequaled savagery. The Bloodwrath’s hull lit up as an internal explosion racked the crippled warship. Strangely, though, the Griffin seemed to suffer little damage in comparison with the Bloodwrath. While several systems and many of its weapons had been damaged or knocked out, her hull was surprisingly resilient to the Corrupter’s salvoes, which Nebulax had expanded to include turbolasers. All three ships were like bloodied fighters in the ring, tired and bruised but unwilling to give up.

As Selu brought the Griffin around for another pass, the pirate’s comlink chirped again. He activated it even as he opened fire on the Corrupter yet again, vaporizing the Star Destroyer’s communication arrays.
 * “Micor,” said the Devaronian, his labored breathing evident even over the speaker. “It’s over for me. My ship is burning around me. My crew is all dead. There’s just one thing left.”
 * “Go ahead,” said Selu, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the gunnery screens.
 * “I’m going out with a bang. By hell-thunder, I’ll take some of them with me. But, for you, this file. Maybe it’ll help you more than it did me.”

The comlink beeped as it acknowledged receipt of a data packet. Then the transmission cut off.
 * “Clear skies, Captain,” said Selu.

Nebulax watched as the Bloodwrath vectored, placing its stern battery unable to hit the Corrupter. Instead, the vessel dove towards his ship, its engines flaring as they were pushed beyond their limits.
 * “Lieutenant, prepare to blunt their ramming,” Nebulax said, having predicted this move long before.
 * “Yes, sir,” answered Convarion, relaying pre-arranged instructions to the gunners in the event of a ramming attempt.
 * “Helm, pull us away from the Bloodwrath. Prepare to launch boarding teams.”

The Corrupter’s batteries let loose their fury once more, the ion cannons striking control surfaces, disrupting them and knocking the cruiser off course. The turbolasers alternated between the bridge area and the engines. The Bloodwrath started drifting, having lost its ability to maneuver. Sulan’bask’s attempt to ram the Imperial ship had failed. Nebulax’s last wave of fighters roared in, disabling the cruiser’s last weapons battery, making the pirate’s defeat final.
 * “No!” screamed Sulan’bask to himself inside the steaming-hot auxiliary bridge. 	Already burned from the heat-life-support systems were failing-and gasping for breath, he pounded the control panel in frustration. No matter, he thought, reaching for another set of controls. One way or another, he’d take some of those Imperials with him. Grabbing a lever, he yanked it, cackling as hard as he could.
 * “Captain, her reactor’s overloading,” shouted Convarion.
 * “Brace yourself!” roared Nebulax, but it was too late.

With an enormous explosion, the overloaded reactors on Bloodwrath breached their containment and detonated, sending a flood of energy and white-hot debris washing over the Corrupter’s stern. The force was enough to send the Star Destroyer tumbling, engine control temporarily lost. A series of explosions rippled across the stern as conduits overloaded or debris smashed into the hull. One port engine cut out, then came back online and began starting to meltdown before a group of engineers, already exposed to deadly radiation, initiated an emergency shutdown before dying.

Coughing, Nebulax staggered to his feet as even more alarms wailed across the ship. Over in one corner of the bridge, a console had exploded and caught fire and several crewers were working to extinguish the flames.
 * “Status?” he demanded.

Convarion didn’t answer for a moment, his eyes poring across the damage readouts scrolling across one of the screens.
 * “Hangar bay was breached; we’ve suffered heavy casualties there, sir. Engines are down; both sublights and hyperdrive. Extensive hull breaches and radiation leaks around the stern engine compartments. We’re not going anywhere soon, Captain.”
 * “And Bloodwrath?”
 * “Utterly destroyed, sir. No escape pods-none could have made it out of that fireball. Also, all our fighters are lost.”
 * “Good. The galaxy is finally rid of that pest.”

As the explosion washed over the Corrupter, disabling it, Selu took the hint and set the Griffin on an outbound vector. It wouldn’t be long before more Imperial ships arrived and he wanted to be out of here. Leaving the ship in Sarth’s hands to get them to hyperspace-the Imperials were no longer an immediate threat. Meanwhile, he signaled the Matukai to bring the prisoners from the Observant to the bridge. Exiting the bridge, he sensed three humans nearby, holed up somewhere, and went to investigate. The last thing he needed was a bunch of pirates or Imperials sabotaging his efforts. Getting a good fix as to where they were, he walked rapidly until he stopped short of a closed door. They were inside that room, beyond the door, and he was sure that was where their attention was focused. Rather than find an alternate way in, though, he simply opened it and walked in.

Immediately, his attention was riveted by two naval troopers, one on either side of him, aiming their blaster rifles right at his face. Inside, seated behind a desk, was a human civilian of some sort, a blaster pistol resting on the desk but his hands folded in front of him.
 * “Freeze,” ordered one of the troopers tersely.
 * “Okay,” said Selu.

With a mental thought, an almost effortless use of the Force, he telekinetically slammed them both in the wall with enough force to knock them out. Their blasters dropped to the carpeted deck with a clatter as their former owners dropped supine with muffled groans.
 * “And I came back here to avoid all the violence. I suppose there’s no point in reaching for this blaster,” said the civilian, his Basic cultured and flavored with a Coruscant accent.
 * “Not unless you want to save me some trouble,” Selu replied. “Who are you?”
 * “Alto Stratus,” replied Doriana, using an alias from a mission years ago.
 * “You’re lying,” said Selu, the Force easily revealing the man’s duplicity.

Drawing his lightsaber out, he ignited the blade. Doriana seemed surprised to see it, but there was no doubt that the man knew what he was facing.
 * “You know what this is?” Selu asked.
 * “Spare me the theatrics. It’s a lightsaber,” Doriana replied heavily, rolling his eyes. “That must make you a Jedi Knight.”
 * “You could say that,” Selu replied. “Now, that means I know when you’re lying. Why don’t you try that name business again?”
 * “Kinman Doriana. I’m a special aide to the Emperor.”
 * “Is that so?”
 * “Yes. And your name?”
 * “You can call me Night.”
 * “Very clever. Jedi Night, is it? I’m impressed at any rate; not only have you survived the purge, but you’re still kicking back.”
 * “So it would seem,” said Selu, slowly circling the desk.
 * “You must know, though, that you can’t hope to really accomplish anything. The Emperor has great power at his disposal, and against what I have seen, you don’t stand a chance.”
 * “Good thing you won’t have to worry about that for much longer,” Selu replied darkly.
 * “Not so fast, my young friend. Jedi don’t kill unarmed people, or so I’m told. Come with me. Your considerable talents could find themselves put to good use for the Emperor. What? Did you think he killed all the Jedi? Of course not. Many of them are now serving him, much as they did the Old Republic, restoring peace and order to the galaxy.”
 * “What are you talking about? I was there when they struck down the Jedi, from the oldest Master to the little younglings.”
 * “So you saw every last Jedi fall? No, I didn’t think so. The Empire needs you even more than the Republic did. The Jedi who fell were part of a terrible conspiracy, one that I’m sure you had nothing to do with. Now, yes, there were innocent lives lost, but it was for the sake of the people.”

Doriana smiled as he saw the effects that his words were having on Selu. The Jedi was losing his nerve, starting to doubt all that he stood for. Soon, he would be amenable to joining with the Empire. They could clear this ship and wait for Imperial help to arrive. Then, he would return to the Emperor with a mighty prize to present-a new Force-strong follower. While Doriana wasn’t Force-sensitive himself, he had a healthy respect for their powers. However, they were still susceptible to his words-his greatest strength had always been the persuasiveness of his voice and it had served him well over the years.
 * “You’re lying again,” said Selu, but with considerably less conviction. “I’ll never join you.”
 * “The Jedi are not extinct,” Doriana crooned smoothly. “When that dreadful attack on the temple happened, half of the Order joined with the troops and remained loyal to the government they swore an oath to defend. As much as possible, only the rebellious ones were weeded out. To take control of the situation, Palpatine took over the government and sent the Jedi into quiet exile, save for a few aides. When public furor dies down again, they will return to rebuild the Order. You can be a part of that. Go back to serving the people, to bringing peace to the galaxy. Just come with me.”

Selu’s doubt began to grow as Doriana’s words sank in. Could it be possible that the man was telling the truth? He didn’t seem to be openly lying, and his words cast a new shadowy pallor of doubt on everything that Selu believed and held dear. Were the higher ranks of the Jedi Order really planning a revolt against the Republic? Could everything he had seen at the Temple be a horrible misunderstanding? Was the Emperor not as evil as he thought? Then, his mind flashed back to the deaths of his friends, to Skip, and to Serra. He remembered how the clones had shot Skip, how he had found Serra lying crushed underneath a pillar dropped on her by Anakin Skywalker, now styling himself as a Sith, Darth Vader. Their tranquility in the face of death came to mind, called him back out of the fog that Doriana had wove around him. How could he have been so weak to doubt all that he knew? A wave of anger swept over him as he realized how he almost been deceived. Everything cleared up, and Doriana’s words were exposed for what they were- false nothings. Clarity returned to his mind, as the light of the truth banished the lies.
 * “I don’t think so,” he said. “You’re coming with me. You’ll be taking a little ride. Get up.”

Doriana complied meekly.
 * “This won’t change anything,” the advisor said. “My offer is still open.”
 * “Shut up,” Selu replied bluntly. “I should have said that a long time ago.”

Selu brought Doriana back to the ship’s bridge, where the rest of the Matukai had arrived, bringing the five Imperial prisoners that had been held on the Observant together with the previously captured bridge crew. .
 * “How long until hyperspace?” Selu asked Sarth.
 * “About a minute.”
 * “Good, that’s plenty of time.”

Reaching into a pouch on his belt, Selu pulled out an injector and a bottle that he had obtained from Cassi before they had set out on their assault on the Griffin.
 * “This is ylannock,” he informed the prisoners. “It’s a mind-altering drug. I’m telling you this because you’re not going to remember a lot, depending on how much I give you. A skilled Force-user can use it to selectively alter memories, but a straight application will just start at your most recent memories, your electrical memories, and purge those, and then move on to your long-term chemical memories.”

With several imposing Matukai standing by with wan-shens at the ready in case of trouble, the Imperials offered no resistance as Selu injected each of them with a ylannock solution. The dosage had been fixed based on what Cassi had told him about the drug when he had obtained it from her. Doriana and the bridge crew got the least amount, but the Observant’s crew received a considerably longer dose, enough to wipe out at least their last three weeks of memory. As they dropped unconscious, Selu and Spectre loaded the Imperials into escape pods, sealed the hatches, and fired them back in the direction of the Corrupter.
 * “Imperial fleet dropping out of hyperspace,” Sarth said. “At least seven ships.”
 * “I’m not concerned,” Selu replied. “Punch it.”

Sarth pulled the lever, activating the hyperdrive, and the starlines elongated as the Griffin made the jump to hyperspace. They had escaped.