Force Exile VI: Prodigal/Part 5

10
Tyria walked back into the private wardroom that she and Milya had shared over the last week. It was a cozy little suite, with a separate living and sleeping area, a small kitchenette, and a refresher station, all elegantly furnished in the muted gray and gold of the Tendrando Arms corporate colors, but the placidity of the suite did not extend to Tyria. Frustration was evident on her face as she strode across the room to the refresher. Milya waited for her to emerge and sit in one of the high-backed chairs by the table, watching as the Jedi drummed her fingers on the table impatiently. Milya let the Jedi stew a few more minutes before she glanced over from where she was reclining in her bed, reading an intelligence briefing Lando had provided.

“Problems?” she asked.

Tyria glared over in her general direction.

“You already know,” she replied. “Six days in interrogation, and not a single sound from her lips, or anything useful from the Force. If we didn’t have her on a nutrient line, she’d have starved herself. If she wasn’t restrained, she’d have choked herself with the nutrient line.”

“Is that so surprising from someone who had three ways to kill herself on her person at the time of her capture?”

“I suppose not, but it’s not very helpful either,” Tyria replied. “There’s something else that’s bothering me, too.”

Milya had a feeling she knew where the conversation was headed. She had anticipated the subject coming up, and the fact that Tyria had restrained herself thus far was quite an accomplishment.

“You want to know about your memory from Yanibar,” Milya surmised.

“Damn right I do,” Tyria replied forcefully. “I can’t believe that nearly three years of my memory were fabricated by own mind after my memory was erased.”

“That is understandable,” Milya said. “Many who find out the truth after their memory was altered feel this way.”

“No offense, but I don’t think you really understand,” Tyria answered heatedly.

“I do,” Milya replied in the same even tone. “My daughter had the memories first twenty-seven years of her life blurred or erased because she decided to leave the refuge. I know exactly what it is like to feel like you’ve lost part of your life.”

Tyria’s aggressiveness vanished at Milya’s words.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’d forgotten that.”

Milya said nothing for a minute, lost in her reflections on her daughter Rhiannon. When Milya had last seen her daughter, she’d asked her when she was going to return to the refuge with her family to join the evacuation. Rhiannon had been distant, noncommittal—which had characterized their relationship over the last fifteen years. Even when Milya had restored Rhiannon’s memory ten years earlier, their relationship hadn’t been the same since Rhiannon had first left.

“Can you help restore my memory?” Tyria asked suddenly, cutting into Milya’s introspection. “You mentioned that you could try back on your ship, but we were too busy planning out how to save Tendrando Arms to worry about it then.”

Milya snapped back into reality to regard Tyria.

“Yes,” she said. “I can. There are only a few of us on Yanibar who can do it, the reclaiming of memories, but I am one of them. And then once we’re done, I’m going to have a chat with our guest.”

Milya laid one aged hand on the table.

“Take my hand,” she said to Tyria. “Let your mind open to the Force, and together, we will journey back to reclaim what was hidden.”

Tyria nodded, closing her eyes and placing her hand in Milya’s as currents of the Force swept through both of them. Several hours later, Milya finally released Tyria’s hand. The woman was pale and trembling, but as her eyes opened again, she seemed coherent.

“Do you remember now?” Milya asked her.

“I do,” Tyria said. “I remember the desert, the green refuge inside the mountains. I can see the Hall of Remembrance. It’s all coming back to me.”

“Good,” Milya said warmly.

“Your people showed me the way to unlocking my potential, to becoming a Jedi,” Tyria said. “You helped train me.”

“I did,” Milya admitted.

Tyria blushed.

“Then I suppose I should be thanking you. . . both for back then and now,” she said.

“You saved Selu’s life on Coruscant,” Milya replied. “Consider us even.”

“Your world is dying, isn’t it?” Tyria asked. “You mentioned that earlier on the ship, that the Yuuzhan Vong had doomed it.”

“War has many casualties,” Milya answered simply. “Yanibar was one of them.”

She rose from the table to retrieve her utility belt. Her lightsaber had unfortunately been damaged in the blast and she hadn’t had time to repair it, but she still had her vibroblade and her pistol.

“You’ll want to rest,” Milya told Tyria. “The sudden influx of memories can be very taxing on the mind.”

Tyria nodded.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” she said. “It’s a lot to absorb at once.”

“I’ll be back,” Milya informed her. “It’s time I talked with our guest.”

She left, advancing down the hall and around the corner to the secured lobby where two hulking YVH droids stood guard over a sealed blast door.

“I’m here to question the prisoner,” she told the droids.

“Leave your weapons here,” the droid informed her in its deep, ultra-masculine interpretation of Lando Calrissian’s voice.

Milya complied, shucking her pistol and vibroblade into a bin. The droid gestured her forward as the first pair of blast doors opened to admit her into a narrow hallway. She advanced into the hallway as the doors sealed behind her. The inner pair of blast doors didn’t open until the first pair was fully closed. Milya strode forward into the secured cell as soon the inner doors opened.

The cell was dark, with only a single spotlight shining down on its sole occupant. She was seated in a chair that had been permacreted to the cell floor and her wrists and ankles were stuncuffed to the armrests and chair legs respectively. A slender intravenous line ran from one arm to a line suspended from a rack behind the chair, while two electrodes were attached to her forehead. Milya knew from the briefings Calrissian had given her that they monitored her brain activity for Force usage and would transmit a mild electric shock to disrupt her concentration if she tried to use the Force too heavily.

No longer did the woman before cut the same fearsome image she had the last time Milya had seen her. Her flexible armor suit was gone, replaced by a drab green shirt and pants that looked like medcenter pajamas. Her red hair hung limply down in tangled locks from her head, and she smelled foul from having not seen a refresher in nearly a week. Only her smoldering green eyes and the defiant expression on her face bespoke the spirited opponent that Milya had battled on the rooftops.

Even as Milya’s years of training and experience in the intelligence world warned her that this was a dangerous, cruel opponent, who had callously attempted to murder her and Lando Calrissian, part of her felt a pang of sympathy for this woman. Her mind flashed back to nearly sixty years earlier, when the Sun Guard of Thrysus had sold her into slavery to a group of slavers. She had been beaten and chained up, her adopted parents murdered only hours earlier, at her lowest possible point. Yet, Milya remembered well finding the strength to break free, kill all of the slavers and avenge her parents, enduring due to the indomitable will within her. She saw that same will in the eyes of the woman sitting in front of her, and even though Milya knew it made this woman a deadly foe, it also gave her a sense of kinship. Her rational mind sardonically reminded her that the feeling was not likely to be mutual.

“I’m not going to ask you any questions,” Milya said after she had finished surveying the prisoner. “The past week has already shown that you won’t answer anything that you don’t want to.”

As expected, no response.

“I personally am not above certain interrogation techniques to elicit information, but we both know that to extract anything useful from you, I’d have to cross several lines that I’m not willing to cross.”

Normally, Milya never would have admitted having any such ethical barriers to a prisoner, but this woman clearly knew who she was, and since Ariada had trained her, she likely knew the methods of the Yanibar Guard. Milya circled the restrained woman slowly.

“Ariada’s probably told you a lot about me,” Milya said. “I can guess most of it. You probably know I’m the director of Yanibar Guard Intelligence, trained as both a Jedi and a Matukai, and all my various familial affiliations to other people on Yanibar.”

She leaned down to whisper in the ear of the prisoner.

“Did Ariada tell you that I trained her?” Milya asked.

The prisoner’s eyes shot sideways to glare at her, but she showed no signs of breaking.

“I did,” Milya said. “She was my best student, and my most abject failure.”

Milya removed the electrodes from the forehead of the prisoner.

“I’m taking these off,” she said. “If you try anything, I will stop you, but I want you to be able to sense the truth in my words.”

She started circling the woman again.

“I don’t know what cause Ariada has you believing in, nor what she’s told you about my motivations, but believe me when I say that it was her decisions that caused her to leave Yanibar. She hates us because when she fell to the dark side, we tried to stop her.”

The assassin’s face was blank, utterly devoid of human emotion. Milya took a step back to evaluate the captive.

“Believe it or not, but I’ve been in a similar situation as you,” Milya said. “Restrained. Captured. Condemned to a miserable existence. Denied of basic human dignity. I was about your age when it happened, and I never lost hope or the will to fight for my life. I see that same fire in your eyes.”

Milya squatted down to look the assassin directly in the face.

“There’s two differences between your situation and mine,” she said. “The first is that I’m not going to let you escape. The second is that I’m not the person Ariada told you I am, the kind of person like those slavers that captured me.”

She held up a plastine bottle she had brought from her room.

“This is an Aitha protein drink,” she said. “Nutritious, tasty, all of that. I know you’re willing to sit there and sulk in that chair, that you’ll endure all this without a word, but I’m offering you something better. It’s not much, but it’s a small start.”

Milya took a swig from the bottle.

“It’s not poisoned or drugged,” she said. “You can sense that I’m not lying.”

She held up the bottle.

“Give me a nod if you want some,” Milya told her. “I’m not looking for anything else or any other information, just a nod.”

The assassin considered her for a moment, then gave Milya a fractional nod. Milya took that as an encouraging sign, advancing close enough to bring the bottle up to the assassin’s chapped lips. The woman’s mouth opened enough for Milya to let her drink. She was just starting to think that her good-faith gesture was being well received when the assassin spat the protein drink in her face. Milya backed off, wiping the liquid from her face and hair. Milya closed the bottle and put it away, then replaced the electrodes on the assassin’s forehead. The woman was still glaring at her, but there was the barest hint of a triumphant smirk in her expression.

“All right,” Milya said. “We’ve made some progress today—you’ve shown you are willing to communicate.”

With that, she turned and strode out of the room, satisfied that she had managed to get in one last parting shot. She hadn’t anticipated much more from this session, but it was a start. This was going to be a challenge.


 * Zonama Sekot

Zeyn took a deep breath as the world swelled to consume the view on his shuttle. It was an impressive sight to see a world this alive in such a remote location—the intelligence brief hadn’t done it justice. Relative to the ecliptic, its southern hemisphere was a mass of silvery clouds and storms. The north pole of the world was an icy white, while the rest of the northern hemisphere seemed to be carpeted with vegetation, judging by the lush green features. Small lakes and rivers dotted the surface intermittently, but there was no trace of a large city anywhere on its features. Most of all, the planet itself was like a nova among stars when he sensed it with the Force, a living organism unlike anything he had ever sensed.

He quickly realized that his original plan, which was to simply home in on the most distinctive Force-sensitive in hopes that it was the Force-sensitive scientist Danni Quee, was not going to work. The magnitude of Sekot’s presence in the Force inundated his senses, washing over everything. Lacking the foresight of his aunt Milya, Zeyn would have to find her on his own.

Closing his eyes, he began concentrating on a technique known to most Elite Guardians. It took him several breaths to establish the correct focus, but his effort was rewarded. His shuttle disappeared from space, concealed by a Force illusion, while he concealed his own Force signature. He’d read the intelligence reports on this planet. He knew what was down there.

It didn’t take long for his concealed shuttle to pierce the atmosphere and swoop down, cruising over the thickly-forested surface. Giant tree-like plants called boras dominated much of the northern hemisphere, and their size was comparable to the wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk. Zeyn knew enough to stay away from those living organisms, having learned that they could channel lightning through their iron tips into the sky.

Instead, he headed for a settlement, figuring that on a world populated by non-humans, a human scientist would be relatively famous and easy to find. He trusted in the Force for guidance when it came to selecting a settlement, hoping that he wouldn’t be searching for long. The planet made him uneasy—particularly because of its inhabitants.

Accepting the gentle nudge of the Force, he let his ship drift off to the west, finding a sizable settlement near the edge of the massive boras-saturated forest. Zeyn knew that despite his attempts to hide himself and his ship, the planet was likely aware of him. If it wasn’t, it would be as soon as he touched down—every plant on Zonama Sekot was reported to be connected to the planet’s consciousness. Zeyn’s invisible shuttle cruised over the settlement in a wash of repulsorlifts and he found a clearing near the edge of town where he could land.

A sour taste filled his mouth as he realized with disgust that the Force had led him to a Yuuzhan Vong settlement. Old instincts and urges came back to him as he found his hand reaching for the trigger on the control stick. It had been ten years since he’d last fought the Yuuzhan Vong, but he remembered them and their vicious crusade across the galaxy well. He remembered the blood that drenched the soil of Rishi when he and a few thousand Yanibar Guardsmen had mounted a desperate defense against a rampaging horde of Yuuzhan Vong. He remembered helping Ryion free dozens of Yanibar Guard prisoners who had been cruelly tortured by the sadistic aliens. It all came back to him in a rush and Zeyn felt a sudden urge to power shields and weapons and lay waste to the settlement. While most of the other Elite Guardians that had been dispatched to hunt Ariada had taken civilian ships that had been outfitted by YGI so as to be inconspicuous, Zeyn had had no such need for discretion on a planet with no spaceports, port authorities, or patrol ships. He was flying a late-model Javelin shuttle, complete with two laser cannons, a bevy of concussion rockets, and twin repeating blaster chin turrets. The dark urge spoke to him, reminding him of the atrocities that the Yuuzhan Vong had inflicted upon him and the rest of the galaxy, and told him that it would be just to kill them. They deserved it. His fingers went to the arming switch on his rockets.

Then, Zeyn took a deep breath and checked himself.

“No,” he said to himself. “Atrocities are not reconciled by more suffering.”

His hand fell away from the weapons panel and he landed the shuttle. The repulsor wash kicked up leaves and dust as the spacecraft settled down. Yuuzhan Vong began gathering near the landing site and Zeyn dropped the illusion, knowing that there was no point to it unless Ariada was already waiting for him. The Yuuzhan Vong species largely existed outside the Force and many of the extensions of the Force did not affect them, one of many reasons they were dangerous foes. Their incredible manipulation of biotechnology that gave them living weapons and implants was another. Zeyn made sure to arm himself heavily before he left the ship, starting with a flexible, tough, form-fitting polymer nanocomposite suit and matching boots. It was dark-gray, with a texture composed of hundreds of tiny hexagonal panels sewn together. The suit was designed for sleekness and stealth along with maximum range of motion, so its protection was only an armorweave underlayer and trauma pads in non-jointed areas. Over top of that, he pulled on a light cuirass of Zeison Sha and Echani design that the Elite Guardians favored, which he had painted in various intermingled hues of green for his trip to this planet. His lightsaber rested on his belt, while an S-5XS slugthrowing sidearm was holstered on his other side. A loadbearing black vest went over the armor, with numerous hooks and pockets for additional equipment. He had a vibroblade hanging from the vest along with several grenades, another vibroblade tucked into an ankle sheath. Zeyn did not bother with a comlink, though; the range was too far to signal back to Yanibar or the Daara’sherum. Zeyn grabbed a pair of tinted ballistic glasses that would help protect his eyes from the thrown bugs, poisons, and gases that the Yuuzhan Vong often used. Lastly, he retrieved an S-2C blaster carbine and several spare power packs. Then, he took a deep breath and headed for the rear shuttle hatch. It opened with a mechanical grumble and whirring sound as the actuators lowered it down to reveal an arc of Yuuzhan Vong staring expectantly at the shuttle. The hot, dank, humid air of the jungle washed over him, accompanied by the familiar smell of the Yuuzhan Vong.

His hand tightened around the pistol grip of the carbine at the sight of the aliens, but he controlled himself—though some of them seemed to be armed with coufee knives, their body language did not bespeak hostility. Zeyn’s Lorrdian heritage gave him a unique understanding of nonverbal communication and these Yuuzhan Vong, though tense and uncertain, were not in aggressive postures.

“Greetings, traveler,” one of them said. “What brings one of the Jeedai here?”

Zeyn relaxed his grip on the carbine incrementally.

Remember, he told himself. ''These guys are just as likely as you are to be targeted by Ariada. The enemy of my enemy is still probably an enemy.''

That last traitorous thought was a guiding dictum of the Yanibar Guard, which had lived and survived by suspicion and paranoia for far too many years to ascribe to something so risky as a forced alliance—they had tried that thirty years ago and it had nearly gotten the refuge destroyed by the Zann Consortium.

Zeyn inhaled deeply as his eyes swept over the crowd for threats one last time.

“I bring a warning and a message,” he said. “This planet is in danger of being targeted.”

“What is the danger?” the seeming leader asked, his fluent Basic no doubt the result of a tizowyrm translator creature.

“There is a rogue Jedi who we believe may attack this planet,” Zeyn told the Yuuzhan Vong. “She has several ships at her disposal, and a terrible bioweapon, as well as a vendetta against the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“Bioweapon?” the Yuuzhan Vong asked. “The tizowyrm does not understand that word.”

“It’s a virus,” Zeyn told them. “It turns the infected into cyborgs, harvesting parts of their bodies and turning them into mechanical implants.”

Immediately, a murmur swept through the crowd and Zeyn recalled the Yuuzhan Vong’s intense hatred for machines and droids. Such a virus would be a heresy of the highest order to them, and he regretted his words. There was no telling what kind of reaction he had just evoked.

“How do we know you are not lying, Jeedai?” another Yuuzhan Vong, a younger member of the warrior caste judging by his size and tattoos. “You speak of abominations.”

“That’s a good word for it,” Zeyn retorted. “There’s thousands of people that were converted into mindless cyborgs on Belsavis by this thing, so yes, it’s an abomination. That’s why I came to warn you about it.”

The Yuuzhan Vong leader stalked up to him.

“You do not care for us, do you, Jeedai?” he asked. “I can tell.”

Zeyn met the elder’s gaze.

“No, I don’t,” he answered evenly.

The elder started to circle him, a motion which made Zeyn very nervous, but he stood his ground even as he tensed, prepared for action.

“Did you fight against us in the war?” the Yuuzhan Vong asked in a low hiss.

Zeyn bit his lip, but there was no dodging the question.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Then why do you come now with a warning?” the Yuuzhan Vong asked.

Zeyn thought for a moment and the right words came to him.

“The atrocities of that war would not be reconciled by more suffering,” he said evenly. “Even yours. At some point, the killing has to stop.”

“So why are you so heavily armed?” the Yuuzhan Vong elder inquired, gesturing at his impressive array of weapons.

Zeyn smirked.

“Let’s just say that I expect to meet some disagreement on that last point,” he said. “I like to bring a strong argument.”

The younger warrior stepped out of the crowd, and Zeyn noticed that he was wearing full vonduun crab armor and carried an amphistaff in spear-like fashion. Zeyn had fought enough of them in the Yuuzhan Vong War to know that a warrior with that equipment could be quite difficult to kill.

“Enough of this,” he spat. “I say you are here to spread lies and discord among our people, to turn us against the Jeedai and Sekot, to make us doubt our homeworld’s protection. You will not succeed.”

“I came with a warning,” Zeyn replied. “That’s all. What you do with it is up to you. Maybe you’re right and this planet can protect you from the threat. I hope so—but we felt it was important that you be warned.”

“Your warning is heard, Jeedai,” the elder Yuuzhan Vong told him. “And now I give you a warning of your own.”

Zeyn arched an eyebrow inquisitively as his fingers tightened around the blaster’s grip again.

“Another Jeedai arrived yesterday in a neighboring settlement. She also brought a warning—that a group of fallen Jeedai and their Galactic Alliance allies were seeking to provoke us with lies so they could have an excuse to wipe us out and claim it for their own. She warned us about you.”

Zeyn was sweating profusely, but a chill ran down his spine at the words the elder was telling him.

“She’s lying,” he answered quickly. “We have no interest in taking your planet, or in wiping you out.”

“Perhaps,” the Yuuzhan Vong said. “We shall see. You are adversaries?”

“Seems that way,” Zeyn quipped. “Was she Wroonian? Eh. . . blue skinned?”

“No,” the Yuuzhan Vong replied. “She appeared human to us, garbed similarly to you.”

“I still say he is lying,” the younger warrior added.

“You are not the one to make that decision, Tisran Shac. The best person to determine the truth would be Sekot,” the elder offered. “The planet itself. Or perhaps the Magister, the leader of the Ferroan and Langhesi who live on this world.”

Zeyn shook his head.

“I don’t have time for that,” he said. “I have to find someone, a human scientist named Danni Quee.”

The elder Yuuzhan Vong gave him an amused smile.

“The other Jeedai is looking for this human also,” he said. “We also sent her to find the Magister, in hopes that either the Magister or Sekot would determine the truth of her claim.”

Suddenly, another Yuuzhan Vong came running up to the crowd bearing a villip, the living communication devices that the Yuuzhan Vong employed. The elder turned to address the new arrival.

“What is it, Tahkra Dhal?” he asked.

The other Yuuzhan Vong replied in his own tongue, which Zeyn didn’t understand, but he was clearly distraught. Finally, the elder Yuuzhan Vong whirled back towards Zeyn.

“The other Jeedai escaped the Magister’s settlements,” he said in Basic. “She has disappeared into the tampasi, leaving several killed and wounded behind her.”

“Tampasi?”

“The. . . I do not know the word for it in Basic. It is a mass grouping of the boras and the other plants that occupy much of the land on this world.”

“Forest?” Zeyn tried.

The Yuuzhan Vong seemed unsatisfied, but nodded reluctantly.

“That word seems insufficient, but it is close enough.”

“In any case, I think you have your answer on who’s telling the truth,” Zeyn replied.

“So it would seem,” the Yuuzhan Vong answered.

“If this attacker is still out there, then it’s imperative that I find Danni Quee first,” Zeyn said. “Can you help me?”

Asking a Yuuzhan Vong for help was a first for Zeyn, and the words felt foreign on his tongue, but he was desperately short of resources with which to find her. Having local help would go a long way towards keeping her alive.

The Yuuzhan Vong was slow to speak.

“What is your name, Jeedai?” he asked.

“Zeyn.”

“I have seen your face before, on a recording villip, Zeyn,” the elder told him. “Many years ago.”

Zeyn tensed again, unsure of which direction the conversation was heading.

“You were at the world called Rishi,” the Yuuzhan Vong said.

It was not a question.

“Yes,” Zeyn replied.

Something dark glinted in the Yuuzhan Vong’s eyes, but he appeared reflective rather than aggressive.

“My name is Niull Shac,” the Yuuzhan Vong elder told him. “My sister was killed by your people.”

Zeyn had no answer for that, but the Yuuzhan Vong continued.

“She died in battle, and your people sent back her remains to us so she could be honored properly. They did not have to do that—most of our foes did not do that.”

Now Zeyn recognized the warrior being referenced—Milya had told him the story about how she had confronted and killed a small group of Yuuzhan Vong warriors that had followed her and Cassi to Atlaradis. She also still had the remnants of the scars from that battle.

“I guess it seemed like the proper thing to do,” Zeyn answered.

“It was honorable,” Niull Shac said in his rasping guttural voice. “I had no desire to lose my sister, but I will not hold her death against you any more than you should hold the deaths of your comrades at Rishi against us. She was honored properly after death in battle, according to our ways, and your people gave us that respect and dignity. For this reason, I will help you find the human you seek.”


 * Cruiser Daara’sherum

There was only one person in the ship’s confined gym at the moment. She was currently hanging from the pull-up bar, willing herself to finish the set despite her trembling arms and the sweat that soaked her body and clothes. Gritting her teeth, she persevered, hauling herself bodily up until her head cleared the bar five more times. Then, she dropped from the bar and found an unoccupied place on the mat to start on a set of push-ups. She was consciously not using the Force, nor was she focused on anything but her workout regimen, so she did not notice the two older people observing her from the second-floor balcony overlooking the gym.

“She shows considerable resilience,” Selu observed.

“She is not quite ready,” Cassi replied.

Selu gave his sister-in-law a sidelong glance.

“How ready does she need to be?” he asked her. “I haven’t heard back from Zeyn or Milya and Jedi Tainer or Ryion in the last week. Morgedh learned that Shara had already left Chalacta and is heading to Bespin for the final leg back to Yanibar—he’s heading that way now, but she’s in the wind. We’re running low on Force-users here, Cassi—it’s just me, Qedai, and Master Katarn right now—and you and Qedai should have already been back on Yanibar.”

“Qedai doesn’t need to accompany me back,” Cassi told him. “I’m sure you have more pressing matters for her to handle.”

“Not so fast,” Selu cut her off firmly. “Qedai is going with you.”

Cassi was about to argue, but his comlink chirped. Selu gestured for her to hold onto whatever thought she was about to vocalize as he activated the device.

“This is Selu Kraen,” he said.

He waited a minute for the comm officer to explain the situation, then nodded.

“Patch him through.”

Selu listened for several minutes, replying only in monosyllables. Finally, he closed the comlink and returned it to his pocket.

“That was Ryion,” he explained. “He’s fine.”

Cassi breathed a sigh of relief.

“How come we haven’t heard from him since the attack?”

“Apparently he was traced and his ship and gear were destroyed,” Selu replied. “He’s been stranded on Rhinnal for nearly two weeks. We’ll set course for Rhinnal immediately.

“Master Kraen,” a voice called to Selu from across the hall.

Selu turned to see Kyle Katarn striding swiftly towards him, flanked by the two Yanibar Guard naval security troopers required by protocol, not that two troopers posed much of a threat to a Jedi Master.

“Master Katarn, what is it?” Selu asked.

“The Jedi Order has just received a distress call from Dathomir,” the Jedi Master told him. “And still no word from Skywalker.”

“What kind of distress call?” Selu inquired grimly.

“Something about rumors of a small ship that touched down in the wild. A hunting party went missing near where it landed—the bodies were found yesterday, killed by metal-slug projectiles. The Dathomiri trackers couldn’t locate the killer with the Force, but judging from the tracks, they believe they’re after a humanoid.”

“Seems likely Ariada’s heading there as well,” Selu said with a scowl. “It has lots of Force-sensitives on it, and an old shipwreck of a Jedi training vessel also.”

“It’s not that far,” Kyle pointed out.

“Fine,” Selu said huffily. “I’ll just have to send someone to pick up Ryion later since we won’t be able to get him.”

“Qedai could—,” Cassi suggested.

“No,” Selu said firmly. “You and Qedai are heading back to Yanibar before we jump to Dathomir. It’s not safe for you here now.”

Cassi initially started to argue, but the look in Selu’s eyes told her that he’d made his decision. She wasn’t happy with the outcome, but she trusted him enough to know that he was looking after her best interests.

“Why are so insistent on sending us away?” Cassi asked.

“Because I need someone on Yanibar to explain the situation to the Council, and I couldn’t think of someone better able to make people understand than you. As for Qedai, I need her on Yanibar in case Ariada strikes us while we’re out distracted in the greater galaxy. One of us must protect our world,” Selu told her.

Cassi nodded slowly.

“I understand,” she said. “We could stop by and pick up Ryion on the way.”

“You’d either have to bring him back here or take him back to Yanibar with you,” Selu answered with a frown. “It’s not particularly efficient, and I’m concerned about leaving Yanibar vulnerable for so long.”

“So let me do it,” a new voice interrupted from behind him.

Selu turned to see Jaina Solo standing there, still wearing the Yanibar Guard t-shirt and loose pants that she’d been exercising in. She’d clearly just finished her workout and had been listening in to their conversation.

“Excuse me, Jedi Solo?” Selu asked.

“I can retrieve Ryion,” Jaina told him easily as she leaned on one of the bulkheads. “Let me borrow a ship and I’ll pick him up, then meet you guys wherever. That way Cassi can get back home and I can get back into the fight. Everyone wins.”

“Jaina, are you sure?” Cassi asked. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? You’ve just recovered.”

“My family’s missing, and there’s a Dark Jedi out there causing trouble,” Jaina answered. “I appreciate everything, Cassi, but I’m healed, and I’m ready to get back into the thick of things.”

Selu turned to Master Katarn.

“Master Katarn?” he asked.

Katarn shrugged.

“I trust her if she says she’s ready,” he told her. “The final decision is up to you, though—it’s your mission and your ship.”

Selu took a moment to appraise the Jedi standing in front of him. Finally, satisfied that she no longer bore the unhealed wounds and scars that had marred her body and psyche two weeks prior, he nodded slowly.

“I think you may be right, Jedi Solo,” he said. “I’ll have the ship made ready for you in the forward docking bay. You can outfit yourself at the gear locker there as well—Qedai will show you.”

“Thanks,” Jaina replied.

“Be ready in two hours,” Selu told her.

“On my way,” she told him as she turned to leave.

On her way out, she called one last remark over her shoulder.

“Oh, and you can call me Jaina too.”

11
Zeyn stolidly made his way up the heavily-forested slope, one of many he had crossed since setting out from the Yuuzhan Vong settlement two days earlier. The tampasi he’d been trudging through was thick and alive, laden with slender trees, vines, and broad-leafed bushes. There was plenty of animal life, too—most of which Zeyn did not recognize. Given that large numbers of Yuuzhan Vong had settled on this world, he had no desire to meet any of their living creatures in the wild. The otherworldly plants that grew in dense thickets and groves were hindrance enough. This particular slope was not beneath the mighty boras, but even still, Zeyn found that the thick vegetation impeded his progress significantly.

He was close, he could sense it. There was another presence in the Force, distinguishable from the ambient aura of Zonama Sekot now that he was closer to her—and he thought there might be another person with her. That would be the Ferroan assistant who was said to have accompanied the scientist, or so he hoped. He checked his chrono—it was late afternoon. Zeyn glanced up at the sun and wiped the sweat from his shaved scalp. The humidity and heat of Zonama Sekot’s tampasi reminded him of the misty forests of Rishi, which was not an experience he cared to relive. He took a long swig of water from a canteen, and then pressed forward, spurred by a growing sense of urgency that the Force had been impressing upon him.

It was another kilometer’s hike before he caught sight of his quarry standing atop a sizable cluster of roots leading up to one of the mighty boras that loomed from the tampasi, apparently studying it. As expected, there were two of them, one Ferroan, one human; both female. They didn’t seem to notice him as he moved through the thickets of thick reeds that led towards the roots. There seemed to be a path of sorts that the scientists had most likely followed to reach the bora and Zeyn saw that as the path of least resistance. He advanced silently, not wanting to alarm the scientists. The Force did not sense any other sentient life except for himself and the two women, but the urgency continued to grow.

Zeyn suddenly noticed the sudden hushing of birdsong and the chirping of the insects. The once raucous sounds of the tampasi diminished until only the susurrus of the leaves by the breeze was the only sound he heard. Danger was imminent. He looked through the thick stalks at the two women, who were perched nearly a dozen meters up on the knobbly wood of the roots protruding from the ground and about thirty meters away, completely oblivious to the impending threat. He wasn’t close enough. Picking up the pace, he began pushing through the reeds.

Ten meters away from their position, he saw the glint of sunlight off of a scope up in the bora as it sighted in on the two women.

“Get down!” he shouted, bringing up his S-2CF carbine and opening fire, hoping to suppress the sniper even they fired.

The women crumpled into the nexus of the roots as he leaped forward, his blaster still spraying violet blaster bolts at the intersection of branches where he’d seen the scope. One segment of a root near the women erupted into splinters as a round struck it. Zeyn broke free of the thickets and vaulted up to them with his lightsaber lit, powered by the Force. He sensed the next slug approach and incinerated it with his blade, and the next two shots also. The two women were lying huddled in the tree roots, but Zeyn’s Force senses had to be focused on his own combat awareness and on searching for the assailant. He finally was able to find her—a shadowy assassin lurking in the trees, apparently a human female. She was hard to sense, her Force aura dark but very faint, a menacing specter. Zeyn held his ground, standing over the two women with lightsaber at the ready, his eyes darting back and forth as he temporarily lost track of the would-be assassin. He withdrew a small rectangular plastoid from his utility belt and hit the red button at the top. Immediately, two panels folded out of the casing to approximate wings and the device came to life, a small and discreet surveillance droid that YGI had developed years ago. Zeyn pointed it at the coordinates of the tree using the computer built into his left gauntlet and the droid hummed off quietly on repulsorlifts to investigate. He was sure the sniper was still out there, lurking in wait, or possibly repositioning for a better shot. The feed from the droid was displayed on his wrist computer, and Zeyn saw no trace of the attacker even amidst the scattered char marks from his blaster bolts.

The Force told him to leap and he did, jumping up and backward even as he rotated around his body’s long axis to land facing 180 degrees from his previous stance. The air rippled as a metallic slug tore through the space where he’d been standing and only his leap saved him from being struck in the back. Even as Zeyn flew through the air, his left hand came up with his blaster carbine while the right still held the lightsaber. He brought up the snub-nosed barrel in mid-air and braced the barrel against his right wrist as he landed in a crouched firing position and fired. On the third blast, he sensed a sudden spike in pain and he knew that he had hit the assassin. Zeyn stayed crouched, sweeping the tampasi for signs of the attacker, his lightsaber still lit and ready. All was quiet again except for the humming of his lightsaber and the rustling of the wind in the leaves. Zeyn used one finger to signal the surveillance droid to investigate the shooter’s latest firing position even as he sensed her withdraw. As expected, the droid found nothing to suggest the shooter had been there except for two char marks. However, its sensors detected traces of composites and human cells on the ground and branches, confirming Zeyn’s suspicion that he’d scored a hit. Judging by the fact that the assassin had disappeared, it stood to reason that it wasn’t a serious one, but his searching in the Force told him that there was no imminent danger. He closed down his lightsaber and knelt to check on the two women who were huddled in the crook of the root cluster. The Ferroan was lying on top of the human, and neither was moving. To his alarm, only one of them was still alive. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching up to roll the Ferroan over by her shoulder.

The face that rolled over to stare at him did so lifelessly, blood trickling down in rivulets from a hole in her head, and more flowing down the back of her neck to wet the roots below. The metallic slug had apparently entered the back of her head and exited through her forehead, killing her instantly. The Ferroan’s black hair had concealed the entry wound. Zeyn grimaced and gingerly laid the body aside, checking on the woman underneath. It was her that he had sensed, strong in the Force and possessing considerable inner strength despite her terrified appearance.

She lay trembling against the roots. Her green eyes stared up at him, wide with fright, while she was caked with leaves, dirt, and blood.

“It’s all right,” Zeyn assured her. “I chased her off.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, catching her breath, and when they opened, she seemed to steady.

“Thank you,” she said as he helped her up.

“You’re Danni Quee, right?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You?”

“Zeyn Kraen,” he said, but she wasn’t listening to him.

Instead, she had turned to regard her deceased companion. “Oh, Renshi!”

“I’m sorry,” Zeyn told her as she knelt down by the body. “There’s nothing I can do for her.”

Danni gave no reply, one hand stroking the Ferroan’s black hair, the other clasping one of her lifeless hands. Zeyn knew that they couldn’t linger, that they were too exposed, but the sound of her sobs softened his grim resolve. He let her cry for a minute, then knelt down beside her.

“We can’t stay here,” he said gently.

Danni turned back to look at him, tears streaking down her face, then she nodded even as she bit her lip to hold back the emotion that threatened to spill out.

“I understand,” she replied.

Wiping away her tears, she stood, eyes checking the surroundings for more danger. Something had changed in her demeanor, as if she had suddenly switched her emotions off, storing them for a more appropriate time.

“Do you have a pack?” Zeyn asked her.

She nodded again, pointing down at the base of the root cluster.

“Let’s go then,” Zeyn said.

Danni took one last look at the body of the Ferroan, and then he helped her navigate down the spidery network of roots to the forest floor, where two drab green packs were stashed. She glanced up at the roots where her friend lay dead and grimaced, and Zeyn felt a pang of sympathy stab through him as he realized the pain she was going through. He also knew the urgency of their situation, exposed, their backs against a veritable wall, with a deadly enemy still out there. He moved around to face the woman until her eyes met his.

“We can mourn for her later,” Zeyn said earnestly. “And there will be a time for that—but not now. Right now, we have to leave. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she told him with surprising clarity. “It all happened so fast.”

“I know,” Zeyn said. “I wasn’t fast enough.”

She shook her head in a motion that sent her blonde ponytail swaying.

“This wasn’t your fault,” Danni told him, “any more than it was my fault for asking Renshi to come along.”

She rummaged in one of the packs, retrieving food, water, and an extra blanket, stuffing them into the other pack while Zeyn kept watch. Once she was ready, she shouldered her pack and stood.

“Ready?” Zeyn asked her.

“As much as I can be,” Danni answered.

He nodded and led her into the bush. Zeyn expected her to be quiet and contemplative, still mourning for the friend she had lost under the bora, but whatever switch had been flipped in her mind so that her rational sense of self-preservation dominated her thinking had left her inquisitive.

“Did Master Skywalker send you?” she asked him. “I don’t recognize you, but you’re carrying a lightsaber and you fight like a Jedi.”

“Not exactly,” Zeyn said as he pushed through a clump of vines trailing down from one of the taller trees. “It’s a long story.”

“You could start with why you’re here, and who’s after us,” Danni suggested.

“I was sent here to find you and warn the inhabitants of Zonama Sekot,” Zeyn replied. “You and this entire world are in danger from a Wroonian named Ariada Cerulaen.”

“What does she want with Sekot? Or me?” Danni asked. “It’s not like I’ve been on the galactic grid for the last eight years.”

“Ariada hates the Yuuzhan Vong,” Zeyn explained. “She’s also been launching attacks on a number of worlds using a bioweapon, a virus. She murdered several thousand biologists and virologists on Coruscant with it, and we believe they were targeted because they represented a threat to her plans, experts who could possibly find a scientific remedy to her plague.”

He stepped around a clump of waist-high purple fungus growing on a decomposing log, Danni following in his wake.

“How does she even know I’m here?” Danni asked. “I don’t exactly send holocards home; only the Jedi Order is even supposed to know my whereabouts.”

Zeyn grimaced.

“We don’t exactly know, but Ariada is also a skilled slicer.”

“Was that her who attacked us earlier?”

“I don’t know that, either,” Zeyn said. “It didn’t feel like her.”

He stopped to scan their surroundings and Danni slid up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“You know her, don’t you?”

Zeyn was silent for a moment, but he sensed nor saw nor heard nothing out of the ordinary. They were still in the clear as far as he could tell.

“I used to,” he said at last as he set out once more and her hand slipped away. “A long time ago.”

“You’re not responsible for everything else Ariada has done either,” Danni told him.

“I keep telling myself that,” Zeyn said in a tight voice. “Maybe one day I’ll believe it.”

He changed the subject as he picked up the pace, not wishing to bother with further introspection in front of Danni Quee at the moment.

“We’ll head back to my ship,” Zeyn informed her. “It’s near the Yuuzhan Vong village.”

“Then what?” Danni asked him.

“I don’t know,” Zeyn said. “Right now, my plan is to wait for the next attempt on your life and stop it.”

That sobering epithet was enough to forestall Danni Quee’s questions, and for the next several hours, they climbed and hiked and waded in silence, two sentients swallowed by the depths of the tampasi.


 * 'Knightfall''

Ariada gazed dispassionately down at the mottled surface of Dathomir through the viewport of the cruiser. From space, it appeared pristine, its primal ecosystems competing against each other with natural vigor. However, she knew that was not the case, for she had introduced an invasive species.

The door to the observation lounge slid open and from the slithering sound of scales on the deck that followed, she knew that Aspra Serpaddis had entered.

“What is it?” she asked quietly, still gazing out of the viewport.

“Sapphire has returned,” he said. “She completed her mission.”

“I know,” Ariada replied. “I expected nothing less.”

She sensed something else hanging in the Thisspiassian’s words and turned to face him.

“But that is not why you are here. A question hangs in your mind. Speak.”

The Thisspiassian inclined his head slightly.

“I do not understand why you sent Sapphire to the surface of Dathomir to plant the canister. We could have delivered a larger payload from orbit in an airburst and poisoned the entire world in much more convincing fashion.”

“Destroying Dathomir is not my goal,” Ariada said. “The planet periodically creates servants of the dark side, the Nightsisters who are never truly eradicated. I wish to undermine their confidence in the Jedi Order and the light side, not desolate planets.”

She glowered slightly.

“Such atrocities and wanton destruction are the legacy of the Empire, of the Yuuzhan Vong,” she told him. “I will have nothing to do with that. My methods are more surgical. We will excise the cancer of the Jedi Order and the Yanibar sorcerers like a surgeon cutting away a tumor—with as little damage to uninfected tissue as possible.” “I did not mean to imply a connection,” he replied. “But regardless, you risked one of the nine on a world that could have been struck remotely. Why?”

“Because Sapphire needed to understand the stakes and show both her devotion and her expertise,” Ariada said. “This mission required her to take lives of those who were not targets, but were impeding her goal, and then risk her life with a dangerous cargo.”

Ariada turned back towards the viewport.

“Our missions are not always safe, Aspra Serpaddis,” she reminded him. “The nine must face risk and hardship to prove themselves.”

“They have done nothing but prove themselves to you since the day you took them in,” Aspra Serpaddis said. “They are devoted to you.”

“Can you guarantee eternal loyalty?” Ariada replied. “Loyalty must be continually earned and checked, or else complacency and distrust and sedition fester. You know this.” Both of them were well aware of Ariada’s betrayal of Yanibar, which had led to her joining a group of Dark Jedi, only to later betray them as well in revenge for forcing her to attack her former home.

Ariada was silent for a moment, her mind mentally shifting to other schemes and subjects.

“Any report from Bespin?” she asked.

“The target has been sighted,” Aspra Serpaddis reported. “Diamond and Amethyst have shadowed her since she arrived insystem. They also observed a small unmarked craft arriving at Bexpress Shipping, bearing the signature of a powerful Force user.”

A cruel smile spread across Ariada’s lips.

“So Selu Kraen sent someone to safeguard his son’s precious jewel, did he? A chaperone for her homecoming?”

“Sapphire and Amethyst cannot challenge an Elite Guardian,” Aspra Serpaddis pointed out.

“Indeed,” Ariada replied. “But I believe we have a message to send to Yanibar in response to their meddling.”

“Are you certain this is wise?” Aspra Serpaddis asked. “Bespin is not one of our primary targets. We can strike Yanibar in other ways—Durindfire is ready, and the cargo we needed has already moved through Bespin.”

“The Yanibar sorcerers keep hounding me. I will not have that, and merely one strike in retribution will not be enough. Striking at Bespin will remind them that we are not defenseless, and it will bring the one I want closer,” she told him, withdrawing her comlink. “Captain Toscerra, set course for Bespin. That is all.”

She closed down the comlink without waiting for the reply, satisfied that her orders would be carried out. The ship banked, pivoting into an outbound course that left Dathomir behind. They were seconds away from a hyperspace jump when Ariada saw the flicker of pseudomotion as a ship decanted at the edges of the system. It soon cloaked, but she sensed the powerful Force presences onboard, ones that she recognized all too well. Her smile broadened.

“You’re too late, Selu Kraen,” she whispered to herself. “I have already struck this world, and next, I will strike at your heart and your home.”

The stars elongated outside the viewport as the Knightfall entered hyperspace. Ariada turned her back on the viewport as the thick shutters slid down in place. Sapphire had returned after what Ariada had sensed had been an arduous mission, and she deserved adulation, reward, and encouragement for completing a difficult assignment. Ariada would see to it personally; after all, the nine were practically her children. They deserved the best she could give them in return for their loyalty and service to her greater cause.


 * Yanibar

Kavlis Burke sat and watched as the Naotian representatives finished their presentation. Surveying the rest of the three hundred-odd men and women in the assembly hall, he saw lots of nodding heads and rapt interests. That attentiveness soured his mood somewhat, even if he understood the appeal of their offer.

Finally, they concluded their prepared materials and dismissed the gathered farmers, leaving a single holo that showed an expansive field of grain ripening under a clear blue sky. It was a persuasive choice of image and it even looked promising to Kavlis—if it hadn’t been the opposite of what he had wanted to see.

The well-dressed Naotian representatives dispersed through the crowd of farmers to meet-and-greet, and Kavlis had a sinking feeling about the warm reception that they received even as he remained seated, lost in his own thoughts and gauging the mood of the crowd. For most of these farmers and townspeople, the Naotian offer sounded wonderful—a sure guarantee of land, a better climate, and a starting loan at a reasonable rate to get started. Most of all, it was concrete, something they could see and verify, something known.

But it was not the only offer available to his people, and every native of these parts in this room had heard Kavlis pitch the alternate option. There was another choice available to the inhabitants of Draskar and the surrounding farms. It had come from his wife’s people, the secretive but prosperous inhabitants of the refuge inside the Tusloni Basin. What Rhiannon had told him of their new world, Atlaradis, surpassed anything that the Naotians had presented, but Kavlis also knew the pulse of this community, having lived in it his entire life. They had a deep suspicion of anything unknown, which was precisely what the other offer entailed.

He knew that there was widespread distrust of the mysterious Insiders, and also anger. It had been their actions that had resulted in the utter disruption of Yanibar—the reason the planet was facing impending devastation was because they had made it a target. Lingering resentment about the prosperity and sometimes superior attitudes of the Insiders also colored opinions about them in Draskar’s inhabitants, and Kavlis had once held similar views before he had met Rhiannon. However, now he realized the shoe was on the other foot when he had tried to talk to some of the others about the offer from Rhiannon’s people. They were rejecting him just as they had rejected the Insiders—despite his good standing in the community. The thought alone was depressing.

A tall, lanky farmer approached him, pulling him out of his own thoughts. Kavlis stood to meet him.

“Hello, Henroff,” he addressed him. “What can I do for you?”

“Kavlis,” the other answered. “What did you think?”

Kavlis shrugged.

“The Naotian representatives seem friendly and generous—no different from the last three presentations we’ve seen from them, just a few more details.”

“They’re making a good offer, Kavlis,” Henroff told him.

“Reckon so.”

“I take it that means you’re still stuck on that idea your wife’s people came up with.”

Kavlis raised an eyebrow fractionally.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a comparison,” he said. “Atlaradis would be a way better place based on everything we’ve heard.”

Henroff scowled.

“Assuming that it’s true,” the other farmer replied. “Assuming that there aren’t added strings for going there.”

Kavlis crossed his arms.

“If it’s fear of the Insiders and what they might do that’s bothering you, just spit it out,” he said. “But remember, our families have lived here since they first arrived, and they’ve never made a move against us.”

“Your father might’ve disagreed with that.”

Kavlis’s expression turned dark.

“Henroff Davinor, you know better than to bring up my father,” he said fiercely. “He provoked them and got what he deserved—shame my mother and I had to pay for it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Henroff deferred, backing off. “You’re right, of course. It’s just. . . some of the others.”

Kavlis gazed at the other farmer evenly.

“What you’re saying is that you and a bunch of others think the Naotian offer is better because it will keep you from ever having to deal with the Insiders again.”

“Now Kavlis, that’s not fair,” Henroff protested.

“No, but it’s honest,” Kavlis drawled. “It don’t take a smart man to see that coming.”

“It’s not personal, Kavlis,” Henroff assured him. “We grew up together—we’re practically family.”

“And my wife?” Kavlis asked pointedly.

“Rhiannon’s a lovely woman,” Henroff replied after some hesitation, then added with a sly grin. “Better than you deserve, that’s for sure.”

Kavlis’s stony expression broke and he smiled.

“We agree there,” he said.

“All I’m saying is, we’d like for you to come with us,” Henroff said. “If you threw your weight in for Naos, well, it’d settle any notion of dividing our community first.”

Kavlis’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Can’t do that, Henroff,” he said. “Not straightaway.”

Henroff seemed put off by the outright rejection, but he didn’t seem surprised, just resigned to that.

“I figured you’d say that,” he told Kavlis. “But I had to make the offer. Full vote’s scheduled for three days from now.”

“I’ll have to talk it over with Rhiannon,” Kavlis replied.

“I know,” Henroff said. “And you’re a good man for doing so, but I also know that you’ll stubbornly stick with this Insider notion.”

“Then why ask me to switch?” Kavlis asked laconically.

“Because I’m your friend, and I don’t want you to leave us,” Henroff said earnestly.

“And my family?” Kavlis asked.

“Of course them too,” Henroff said defensively, then he sighed. “Just think about it, okay?”

“I will,” Kavlis assured him. “Good night, Henroff.”

He pulled on his hat and shouldered his way through the crowd. He’d heard enough, and Rhiannon was waiting for him back at the farm. He’d think more about it on the way over.


 * Rhinnal

Jaina strode purposefully along the broad street past the row of imposing edifices. A stiff chill breeze was blowing through the city and she hugged her jacket closer to herself as she marched along, following her senses. The Force wasn’t being too helpful when it came to finding Ryion—he must have been hiding himself, but she could still follow clues of more mundane nature. Some quiet inquiries at the justice center had yielded information about a destroyed ship at the spaceport believed to have been connected to the blast at the medcenter. Now, she was heading back to the spaceport, somewhat disgruntled that she had walked all the way to the justice center when her next point of search was at the spaceport where her ship was landed, leading to a considerable amount of backtracking. Maybe by the time she arrived, one of the spaceport workers she had provided with a handful of credits in exchange for some “looking into” would have information. Then again, she wasn’t pinning any hopes on it. Her thoughts and concerns about where she might find Ryion occupied her mind, but not so much that she didn’t sense the hostility emanating from a group of roughly-dressed individuals standing around one of the sides of the streets. She had detected their curiosity turn to anger when she had walked by earlier, but thought nothing of it.

“You!” one of them, a sloppily-dressed burly man called at her. “Jedi!”

She stiffened, but kept walking. Her jacket didn’t completely cover her lightsaber and they must have pegged her.

“That’s right, typical Jedi, too high-and-mighty to talk to us commoners!” the man jeered, running alongside to keep her in range of his verbal barrage.

Jaina’s temper flared, but she had no interest in bandying words with everyone who had a score to settle against the Jedi. She was on a mission, and this was an unnecessary distraction. She tamped it down and kept walking purposefully, aware that the crowd of malcontents was following her.

The ringleader abruptly cut in front of her to block her path, leering angrily at her. From behind, Jaina sensed a thrown missile, but calculated it wouldn’t do any damage, so she let it hit. The rotten vegetable splattered against her shoulder blade, leaving a dark smear on her jacket. She stopped.

“What’s it to you, anyway, when a bunch of us die?” the man asked scornfully. “They didn’t hit you, so you don’t care.”

Jaina stopped.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” she told him, not even sure what loss he was referring to, but guessed it had something to do with the recent bombings.

“I’m sure you are,” he sneered. “Safe and protected in that shiny temple of yours, the government bowing and scraping to your every whim. Meanwhile, your so-called charity gets our people blown up.”

Jaina started forward again, realizing that she would not win this argument, but the man cut her off again, his followers beginning to encircle her.

“Let me through,” Jaina said firmly.

“What’s the matter, Pretty Miss Jedi?” the man taunted her. “Do you not feel so safe now? Not as protected as before?”

“What do you want?” Jaina asked him, giving diplomacy one last chance and momentarily letting the Pretty Miss Jedi remark slide.

If she allowed the crowd to hem her in, she could suffer serious injury. She shifted her stance slightly, preparing for combat.

The man’s face reddened, his veins bulging with rage.

“I want my wife back!” he shouted. “I want her to not be lying dead in the morgue because somebody with a grudge against you and your kind took it out on her!”

“Then you should blame the person who planted the bomb,” Jaina countered. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” the man jeered. “The Jedi don’t care about anyone but themselves.”

“That’s not true,” Jaina answered, her own temper rising now. “The Jedi chapter house on Rhinnal is proof of that.”

“Until it got blown up,” a woman called from behind her. “The Jedi are only looking out for their own interests!”

“The Jedi are self-serving tyrants!” another person jeered from behind her.

“You’re used to feeling powerful, aren’t you?” the chief agitator asked, edging in closer. “Maybe it’s time you had a taste of what we had to go through, right before you get off this planet.”

“That’s far enough,” Jaina warned him. “I understand you’re angry, but this needs to end before somebody gets hurt.”

“Are you going to lightsaber me in broad daylight with a dozen witnesses, Pretty Miss Jedi?” he taunted her. “Let me guess—your government friends will let you walk off free. Wish I could get away with murder like that.”

“I’m not a murderer,” Jaina answered through gritted teeth.

“Tell that to my wife,” the man shouted.

Having summoned up the fortitude to attack her, he grabbed at her jacket while swinging a tremendous haymaker. Jaina didn’t skip a beat, stepping back and knocking away the grabbing hand and leaning her head back to avoid the blow. She trapped his right arm against his chest, locking her arms around his and got a tight grip on his wrist. A quick headbutt sent him staggering back and Jaina knew she only had a second before the others charged her.

“One more thing,” she told him. “Don’t call me Pretty Miss Jedi.”

She snapped his arm back at the elbow in a direction it wasn’t meant to go and was rewarded with hearing it break. The man screamed in agony, but his aggression wasn’t completely spent. Pointing at her with his good hand, he called out to rally his followers.

“Down with the Jedi oppressor!”

He charged again and Jaina felt the others rushing her from behind as well, even as a warning of a greater threat suddenly flared in her mind. She had to get away from these people to deal with the other danger. As the leader attempted to tackle her low, she sidestepped him, slipping away from the sloppy charge so she could draw her lightsaber and find whatever else was targeting her. However, a sudden blaster report rippled through the air. Everyone froze except Jaina, who kept moving, drawing her lightsaber. Behind her, the ringleader of her assailants was down, a smoldering hole in his back. About five meters ahead stood a woman who had suddenly doffed her cloak to reveal an armored bodysuit. Her face was shrouded by a half-veil that hid her features below her eyes. She held a smoking blaster pistol in her hand and Jaina set herself to pick off any more fire. Instead, though, the woman addressed the crowd.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her words layered with the Force. “I was aiming for the Jedi, but she put your friend in the way instead. She had him killed. His death is her fault.”

Jaina’s eyes widened in surprise, but before she could shout that that wasn’t true, the crowd surged forward—at her. The woman smiled confidently as Jaina turned to deal with them. They were largely unarmed, save for a few crude blunt weapons, but Jaina had no desire to kill them. If she used her lightsaber, she would at the very least maim them, but at the same time, she would expose herself to the blaster-wielding assassin if she didn’t. Her hesitation doomed her.

Twisting aside from a vicious kick, Jaina slashed out with her lightsaber behind her to deflect a pair of blaster bolts. They bounced away harmlessly, but the need to defend herself from multiple angles allowed the human wave to crash into her. Her snap kick took one attacker in the gut, doubling him over, but there were too many and she couldn’t bring the lightsaber around in time. They bore her down to the ground, howling with rage, and she felt fists pummel at her body. The lightsaber was knocked from her hands and threw up her arms around her head to protect herself, kicking out defensively. One man had armed himself with a loose paving stone and he swung at her. She caught the first blow on her arms, but the second, arriving just as she tried to roll aside to avoid being stomped on, caught her just left of her sternum with bruising force.

“Hold her down!” the other woman shouted.

Jaina struggled and thrashed around, but without her lightsaber and with the need to protect herself from the hard fists and hands attacking her, she could do little. With two assailants gripping each arm, even her Force-enhanced strength wouldn’t suffice, especially when she was being kicked everywhere that her arms couldn’t block.

“Lift her, and I will remove this menace for you!”

Forcibly, the assailants hauled a squirming Jaina to her feet, gripped tightly under the shoulders. She was turned to face her instigator, who was still brandishing the pistol.

“One less Jedi to corrupt the galaxy,” the woman told her.

However, Jaina was not about to give up. Unleashing the Force in a blast of telekinesis, she scattered both the street mob that had been assaulting her and sent the woman tumbling back. Wasting no time, she darted forward, scooping up her lightsaber. The woman recovered as Jaina closed on her, taking off in a dead sprint. Jaina cursed and began following, augmenting her speed and stamina with the Force. The woman she was chasing appeared to be in top shape, leading her down into the seedier industrial districts of the city. Jaina ordinarily would have been able to catch her, but she was sore from being beaten and pummeled, while the woman was comparatively unharmed. She gasped for breath as she followed the woman through the winding permacrete corridors.

Her attacker ducked down an alley with Jaina in hot pursuit. The assassin fired three times over her shoulder as she fled, but Jaina’s lightsaber easily batted the lethal energy blasts away. The alley was filled with crates and dumping bins, forcing Jaina to work hard to keep the assassin in her line of sight. She just barely caught a glimpse of the woman darting into the side door of a ramshackle factory. Jaina charged after her relentlessly, kicking the door down and entering what appeared to be a smelting facility. She could see the red glow of molten metal from other parts of the factory, saw the giant metal girders that were hoisted aloft and ferried around on an overhead conveyor system.

She was in a machine room of some sort, judging by the workbenches that occupied one wall, along with the various industrial drills, presses, and other tools. Packages, wiring, and crates were littered across the floor. Its low walls were clearly just a partition, as they did not stretch completely to the high truss ceiling of the factory. There was no sign of her assailant, but a single short, squat greasy-covered man was staring at her balefully as he polished a sizable wrench.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he spat.

“I’m looking for someone,” she told him. “A woman, wearing a veil.”

He grinned evilly at her.

“Well, she’s looking for you too, and I bet she pays better.”

Too late, Jaina’s eyes shot up as a snapping sound caught her ear. A giant red-hot girder swung down towards her lengthwise, one of its anchoring chains cut loose by a shadowy figure perched on a catwalk. Jaina cursed herself for being distracted so easily, but brought her lightsaber up to slash the beam in half. To her incredible surprise, the blade didn’t slice through. Instead, it threatened to push her lightsaber back through its owner. She braced herself, but was forced back and slammed into the wall, the incredible weight of the beam pressing against the lightsaber that was her only defense against the superheated metal. She was pinned into the wall, bracing her feet on it to provide additional support to her trembling arms.

“A Jedi?” the man said with a chuckle. “Your lightsaber won’t do you any good. That’s phrik. It’s impervious even to Jedi weapons.”

“Help me!” Jaina told him.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m not going to kill you, but helping you gets me nothing.”

Jaina struggled against the weight of the beam, trying to push it away with just her lightsaber. The door on the far end of the room opened to reveal the woman standing there with her blaster pistol at the ready.

“Are you going to shoot her?” the man asked the assassin.

“Shut up,” she told him coldly, turning her attention to Jaina. “Jedi Solo, do you always make a habit of walking face-first into every trap?”

Jaina gritted her teeth as she struggled against the weight of the superheated beam pressing against her lightsaber. The heat emanating from the beam was starting to burn the skin on the back of her hands and her shoulders were struggling against the weight.

“It’s worked well for me so far,” Jaina retorted.

The woman extended her hand and Jaina suddenly felt additional pressure on the beam, shoving it into her telekinetically. She used her own Force reserves to counter it and bolster her arms, but while size was of little concern to the Force, inertia was a completely different matter.

“Which do you think is more painful?” the woman asked her. “Being sliced in half by your own lightsaber, or being crushed by a superheated metal beam that will ignite you on impact?”

“Come and here and find out,” Jaina shot back despite the strain she was under.

“Perhaps just shooting you would be more merciful,” the woman said. “But that’s far too quick.”

She lowered her blaster, preparing to fire at Jaina’s feet. Just as she was about to fire, Jaina unleashed her counter-attack, what she had been saving her mental reserves for. A flurry of tools flew from their racks and shelves on the left wall across the room at the assassin, who suddenly had to duck under, abandoning the blaster pistol in favor of a long vibroblade, batting away the telekinetically-hurled missiles. Her accomplice charged Jaina brandishing the wrench, but she simply directed a sonic hammer into his throat, sending him to the ground, grabbing at his throat. The assassin, despite her best efforts, was clutching at her midsection above her left hip, where Jaina’s mental assault had driven a hydrospanner’s sharp end deep enough to stick into the flesh. The assassin turned and fled. Jaina shoved out against the beam, using the Force to send it and the assassin crashing away from her now that the added telekinetic pressure was gone. It tumbled onto the ground and began melting or igniting everything it came from.

Jaina was about to hop over it and continue the chase when she realized this wasn’t just a machine room; it had been used very recently for fabricating explosives, most likely the ones that had been used in the recent bombings. She saw the blinking red lights of detonators being triggered and knew that the assassin had remotely activated them. Following would only leave her right in the middle of the blast. She turned and sprinted for the door, racing out into the alley away from the factory. She darted out of it just as an explosion ripped through the factory, sending debris hurling into the sky followed by an impressive fireball. Jaina tried to sense the assassin in the Force, but the woman was gone.

She scowled, knowing that the assassin had gotten away, albeit injured. However, she was still alive. Taking stock of her injuries, she realized she had been fairly lucky. Her ribs were bruised from being hit by the paving stone, but otherwise, she had escaped with minor cuts, bruises, and burns, while the assassin was not likely to continue the pursuit after being stabbed with the hydrospanner. Every fiber of Jaina’s being burned to go after her, to catch her while she was injured and weak, but at the same time, she knew that fatigue would begin to set in soon and the assassin could have dozens of places to hide. Just as she struggled to make her decision, her comlink chirped.

“Yes?” Jaina answered a bit crossly.

“Jedi Solo, this is Mressor, from the spaceport,” a Toydarian voice said.

Jaina’s adrenaline-fogged mind struggled to recall this particular person as she fumbled for a reply.

“We talked earlier. You asked me to look into someone, remember?”

Now she remembered. The worker she had paid.

“Did you find something?”

“Yes, actually I did. A human matching your description was thrown out of the spaceport for soliciting a few days ago.”

“What happened to him?” Jaina asked.

“One of the workers took him in. He’s a friend of mine—we go slingballing every week. He usually wins too, but last week, I got him good.”

“Mressor,” Jaina cut in impatiently. “What’s his name, and where does he live?”

“Oh, sorry,” Mressor answered. “His name’s Erlam. He lives on Potawomi Street with his grandmother. Real nice guy, too.”

“Thank you, Mressor,” Jaina told him. “Enjoy the credits—and don’t spend them all in one place.”

“Absolutely, Jedi Solo, happy to be of service,” Mressor answered. “If there’s anything else I can—,”

Jaina closed down the comlink before the garrulous Toydarian could continue. She sighed and shook her head, striding away quickly from the burning factory. Her decision was made—it would be pointless to pursue the assassin further when her original mission was to find Ryion.

“We’ll meet again,” Jaina promised herself silently. “And next time we’ll see who traps who.”

12
“We’ll stop here for the night,” Zeyn said as he and Danni reached a small grove of trees most of the way up a gentle slope.

Night was falling on Zonama Sekot and already the forest was shrouded in the hazy dimness of dusk. Soon, it would be too dark for them to see their footing. While Zeyn could guide himself under such conditions with the Force, he doubted Danni could, and he had no need to tax his strength with the assassin still on the world somewhere.

“Why here?” Danni asked. “Why not closer to that brook we passed about a half kilometer back?”

“The crest of the slope provides us cover, but we can look or escape over it if we need to. Any searchers will naturally follow the brook, so we don’t want to be within view of it, and the trees give us some cover,” Zeyn replied.

“That makes sense, I guess,” Danni said. “I’m too tired to think about it.”

“You’ve had a long day,” Zeyn told her. “Sit down and rest while I fill the canteens from the brook.”

She nodded, settling down gratefully at the base of the trunks while Zeyn strode off with their canteens to fill them with water and wipe their tracks. He returned a few minutes later to see her seated on the ground, her back against a trunk and her knees hugged close to her chest. Her head was bowed, her hair hanging down like a stringy curtain over her face with her shoulders shaking quietly. Zeyn checked their perimeter, but saw nothing. Sighing, he returned to the grove of trees and sat down next to Danni, who gave no acknowledgment of his presence. Zeyn picked up one of the canteens and handed it to her, sloshing some of the water around.

“Here, have some water,” he told her.

Danni gave no response. A minute later, Zeyn tried again, tapping her shoulder.

“You should drink something,” he said.

She finally turned to regard him, her eyes red from crying.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the canteen. “I’m sorry; I’m just. . .”

“The Ferroan, Renshi, I know,” Zeyn replied simply. “How long did you know her?”

“Nearly seven years,” Danni answered as she wiped her eyes. “I met her shortly after I arrived on the planet to study it.”

“Tell me about her,” Zeyn said as he rummaged around in his pack for the protein bars.

“She was always curious about Zonama Sekot,” Danni replied. “She was eager to learn more about the world; she came on as many trips into the tampasi with me as she could. Her parents were farmers, but she wasn’t satisfied with just growing things on the land—she wanted a deeper understanding.”

Danni smiled at a fond memory.

“She was a loner, like me,” Danni added. “We’d sometimes go hours without talking—not because we were mad at each other, but because we had nothing better to say.”

“What did you do on your trips together?” Zeyn asked, handing her a protein bar.

Danni brushed some of the hair out of her face and took the packaged meal from him.

“Mostly catalog plant life and take readings and samples,” Danni said. “She was also an artist—if I was down looking at a particular flower or leaf, she might look at it for a while, and then start sketching it. We took it back to my lab and I would study it while she worked on her sketches. She was always good at seeing the bigger picture.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Zeyn told her sincerely as he unwrapped his own protein bar. “I wish I could have gotten to you sooner.”

“I’m sure she saved me, tackling me the way she did,” Danni remarked, fresh tears springing up in her eyes. “I just wish I could thank her.”

“You will, by staying alive,” Zeyn replied firmly. “That’s the best thanks you can give someone who saved your life.”

Danni was silent for a moment, waiting for his words to register.

“I guess you’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry for falling apart on you like this. I’ve lost friends before, even seen them die in front of me, back in the Yuuzhan Vong War, but. . . I thought I’d put that chapter in my life behind me, that I was done with war and killing for good.” “It’s natural to grieve for those we’ve lost,” Zeyn answered. “There’s no shame in doing so.”

She looked over at him.

“Do you think I’m weak for mourning like this?”

A moment passed before he could meet her eyes.

“No. Your friend sounds like she was a person worth remembering. You’re right to do so.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve been very understanding.”

“I try,” Zeyn remarked as he scanned the perimeter once more, shoving the last bit of his protein bar into his mouth. “Least I can do for someone who just lost her friend and got dragged into a conflict she never asked for.”

“What about you?” Danni asked. “Did you ask for this conflict?”

Zeyn grimaced.

“Sort of,” he said. “Ariada and I trained together when we were young. We were on the same team, went on missions together—yet none of us saw her falling into darkness. If anyone should have, I should have seen it.”

“Were you involved?” Danni asked, then quickly backpedaled. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”

Zeyn waved her off, indicating that he took no offense at her inquiry.

“No, we weren’t—that was Ryion. But I’m part Lorrdian—reading body language and nonverbal cues is in my blood. I should have seen the indications that something was seriously wrong.”

“Which explains your empathy. It literally comes naturally to you,” Danni quipped.

Zeyn allowed himself a half-smile.

“Something like that.”

“You know, you’re being too hard on yourself,” Danni told him gently. “Did Ryion see her fall?”

“No,” Zeyn answered, then realized where she going with this. “You’re saying that he should have seen it too.”

“He was closer to her emotionally,” Danni pointed out.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Zeyn remarked. “She’s loose and now at least one of her assassins is here, looking for you.”

They sat quietly for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the night on Zonama Sekot. Zeyn was relieved to hear insects and birds, knowing that they would likely still their nocturnal noises if they detected a threat or danger. The wind rustled through the leaves of the tampasi and the temperature dropped as night fell. Danni reached into her pack and extracted a jacket to put on over her dirty brown tank top and a blanket to wrap around herself over it. Zeyn likewise retrieved his cloak and donned the long garment. He noticed Danni was still shivering.

“I figured someone who lived on Zonama Sekot would have packed more appropriately for the nights here,” he commented mildly.

“Renshi had miniature heating crystals in her pack,” Danni said. “Plus we usually built a fire in the evenings.”

Zeyn glanced around their surroundings, surveying what the dim luminescence of the night revealed.

“Sorry,” he replied. “No fire tonight, and I left my cold-weather gear in my ship, or I’d have a thick parka for you.”

“I’ll manage,” Danni said, hugging her knees to her chest again for warmth. “What about you? You’ve only got that cloak.”

“My combat suit is insulated, plus I grew up on a world with temperature extremes,” Zeyn answered, regretting the words a second later as he realized they sounded condescending. If Danni took offense, she didn’t show it even in a subtle nonverbal cue, as far as he could tell in the evening gloom.

“What planet is that?” she asked.

“Yanibar,” Zeyn admitted, reluctant to talk about himself.

“What’s it like?”

“It’s a harsh world,” he said. “Remote, yet parts of it are sheltered from the elements, from the severe weather and the seasonal extremes. Most of my people live in shelter, but some of us train in the more challenging areas.”

“Do you have family there still?”

“My mother, at least I think so,” Zeyn said, now extremely reluctant to get into that subject and hoping she’d get the hint. “We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“You haven’t?” Danni asked, then hastily clarified. “I suppose it’s different for me. My family’s from Commenor, and it was conquered during the Yuuzhan Vong War. I haven’t heard from them since the first couple years in—I don’t know if they’re alive. I’m sorry for intruding.”

Zeyn’s face was a tight mask as he carefully replied.

“My mother and I are estranged.”

“Now I’m really sorry,” Danni said placatingly. “I won’t ask any more questions.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

He paused, his eyes sweeping their surroundings one more time.

“You should get some sleep,” he advised her. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow if we’re going to reach the Yuuzhan Vong settlement by sundown the day after.”

Danni nodded, leaning her head back against the trunk of the tree and closing her eyes. Zeyn saw she was still shivering and scowled slightly, still irked that she’d brought up his mother and not feeling incredibly charitable towards her. Seeing her try and draw her legs closer to her body for warmth was too much, though, and he relented. It was his own fault for not curtailing that subject as fit for their conversation earlier.

“Come here,” he said, opening up one of the folds of his cloak.

She looked over at him.

“I thought you said your suit was insulated,” she pointed out

“It is, but you can at least share the cloak,” he said. “And I guess I make a better pillow than a tree trunk.”

Danni scooted over, nestling up against him so her head rested on his chest. Zeyn wrapped the left end of the cloak around both of them, his left arm draped across her shoulders.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much, thank you,” she said, closing her eyes once more.

A minute later, she opened them again.

“What about you?” she asked in a whisper, as he was still sitting mostly straight up, reclined slightly against the tree trunk but otherwise erect.

“I’ll sleep eventually,” he said. “I’m going to keep watch.”

“How long can you keep that up?” she asked. “You’re going to have to walk just as far tomorrow and the day after, you know.”

“As long as I need to,” Zeyn said—which wasn’t a complete lie, since he’d never been tested too far on that statement.

“You’re not going to be much good without any sleep for three days,” Danni told him. “And that’s assuming all goes well at the village.”

“Whoever Ariada sent, she’s capable of hiding herself in the Force,” Zeyn replied. “I can’t trust the Force alone to keep us both alive if she’s stalking us.”

“I didn’t sense you coming; can’t you hide us instead?”

Zeyn considered it, then nodded slowly.

“I can try,” he replied. “The technique is taxing.”

She took his hand in hers.

“If I can help, use my strength,” she said. “I have some sensitivity to the Force, though I haven’t consciously used it in a while.”

Zeyn closed his eyes, concentrating on the Force, his senses subconsciously sharpening, his breathing more efficient as he grew hyperaware of his body and his surroundings. He sensed Danni snuggled against him, felt her heartbeat through his chest, and the reservoir of the Force within her. His mind touched hers and found she was receptive, sharing that power with him. He began directing the energy from both of them, turning it into a shroud that concealed them from the landscape. Being able to tap into her innate strength in the Force eased the task, requiring less of his already-depleted reserves. Soon, they were completely hidden from view. Then, he encased both of their Force auras in his own, which he then made very, very small until he could barely sense them.

“Wow,” Danni told him. “That feels weird.”

“We now register about as Force-sensitive as the average bird,” Zeyn commented.

She looked up at him.

“Now can you sleep?”

“Yes,” he admitted, sliding off the tree trunk to lie on the ground, Danni temporarily displaced by the move. “Good idea.”

“Least I could do for someone who saved my life and let me grieve,” she replied as she snuggled close once more and closed her eyes.

Zeyn stayed awake a few minutes longer, listening and sensing for any indication of danger, but no threat was forthcoming. Finally, satisfied that they were hidden, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.


 * Knightfall

Ariada waited at the airlock for the hatch to cycle, hidden in the Force and barely visible in the dim lighting. The Wroonian was alone, as she had specified. No need to make this return any more painful than it needed to be. The heavy gray metal door slid open to the rumble of the machinery, revealing a single lithe figure limping forward out of the shadowy darkness beyond. The tang of the dark side permeated the air—clearly her assassin had been making heavy use of it. Her bodysuit was dirty and damaged and a reddened bandage had been fastened over her midsection. The assassin’s head was bowed, one hand clasping the bandage in place over the wound. Ariada regarded her quietly, probing her with the Force, and found Garnet was badly wounded. Finally, the assassin noted her presence after taking a few steps into the Knightfall. Her head popped up to make eye contact.

“Mother.”

“Garnet,” Ariada said tenderly, but made no move to assist her. “What happened?”

Garnet’s eyes fell again.

“I overreached.”

“I know,” Ariada answered simply. “Explain yourself.”

Garnet shook her head.

“I had already accomplished my mission on Rhinnal,” she said heavily, her breaths short and shallow from the wound. “I was covering my tracks and inciting anti-Jedi sentiment just before leaving when I spotted a Jedi—Jaina Solo.”

“Continue,” Ariada urged her.

“I set up a trap,” Garnet explained. “I distracted her with a group of antagonized thugs and was going to kill her, to rid the galaxy of a powerful corrupt Jedi.”

“And?”

Garnet did not hesitate, her gaze once again meeting Ariada’s firmly.

“She was stronger than I expected,” she said. “She defended herself against my attack without fatally injuring any of the others, then she pursued me. I attempted to trap her again, but she was able to spring it and survive.”

Ariada regarded Garnet severely. The young woman was her assassin and her apprentice, but she had clearly not learned all of her lessons.

“What did you learn?” she asked.

Garnet grimaced at a wave of pain from her wound, but she managed to reply.

“To set a better trap,” she said. “To not underestimate my opponent, and to not overreach.”

“One more thing,” Ariada added. “To stick to the plan.”

Garnet’s gaze dropped to the ground again.

“Yes, Mother,” she admitted. “You are right. I see now why you plan your moves so carefully.”

“That is right,” Ariada told her, her voice softening some now. “We must never show them weakness. Never show them we can be beaten, and in their minds, we are unstoppable.”

Ariada gestured and a flat metal panel slid forward, a repulsor stretcher.

“You have made a mistake, and suffered for it,” she told Garnet. “I wish it had not happened.”

“It was my poor decision,” Garnet admitted even as she limped toward the stretcher.

“That it was,” Ariada agreed, helping the wounded woman onto the stretcher. “But I am here to catch you when you fall, just as I have always been. I will mend your wound, and you will recover, the better for having learned.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Garnet replied with genuine gratitude as she lay down.

“I shall need you hale and healthy soon,” Ariada informed the assassin. “You have done much for me thus far, but I will need your help.”

Garnet blinked as she looked up at her adopted mother.

“I live to serve you, Mother,” she said. “Whatever I can do, I will.”

Satisfied, Ariada gestured and the stretcher started forward, floating alongside her as she walked towards the infirmary. She picked up her comlink and quickly ordered her aides to prepare the room for surgery—Garnet was bleeding internally, and she would not entrust the health of one of her chosen Nine to the care of droid surgeons. She would perform the operation herself. She glanced down at Garnet and saw that the woman was semi-conscious now, her strength expended from the effort required to simply escape Rhinnal and return to Ariada alive.

“Tell me,” Ariada asked her. “how strong was Jaina Solo?”

“Stronger than anyone I have fought before,” Garnet murmured. “Her power was incredible.”

“Was it?” Ariada replied. “Did she seem healthy?”

“She had no difficulty pursuing me,” Garnet answered. “I sensed no weakness in her.”

“Indeed,” Ariada answered.

She was silent the rest of the way to the infirmary. Garnet knew better than to ask questions, and was feeling too chastened to even suppose why Ariada had asked about Jaina Solo. In truth, Ariada was not entirely sure herself, but the seeds of a plan had begun formulating in her mind, a way to deal with the Jedi woman who kept appearing in her visions of the future. If Jaina was as strong as Garnet was reporting, then she would need to be especially cunning in how she was dealt with. Ariada was confident she would find a way, though. Everyone had a weakness.


 * Rhinnal

Ryion peered down into the crevice, shining the glowlamp inside. He was on his hands and knees, looking down into the dark hole on the side of the house. Sure enough, the water pipe was dripping. The slow leak had been costing Ylain and Erlam numerous credits and reducing the amount of water available. Neither Togrutan had had the time or wherewithal to fix it, so Ryion had gladly volunteered. He reached down into the crevice, feeling on the cold, slimy metal for the leak. He initially found nothing, but he hoped no rodents had decided to make their home near the pipe. Ryion stretched out with the Force, but sensed nothing in the form of significant animal life nearby, and for that, he was grateful. Ryion slid forward until his arms and head were inside the crevice as he balanced himself on his knees. Finally, he found the source of the leak. Ryion extracted one hand to retrieve his lightsaber, then slid the weapon back inside after widening the crevice with one hand. Angling the emitter carefully, he activated the lightsaber so the tip just barely grazed the leaking area. The metal pipe glowed red as he melted the edge of the pipe, fusing the leak together. A wisp of steam rose from the newly-welded joint. Ryion deactivated the lightsaber and waited a minute, but the dripping had stopped. Satisfied, he started to back out of the crevice. The impromptu plumbing repair had left his arms and face muddied, but he was glad to have repaid Ylain’s and Erlam’s hospitality in some small fashion.

“Well, that looks dignified,” a female voice said from behind him.

It wasn’t Ylain’s. Ryion looked back to see Jaina Solo standing behind him with her arms crossed and an amused expression on her face. He was suddenly aware that his posture had left his posterior angled up in the air and quickly withdrew himself the rest of the way out of the crevice.

“Give me a hand up?” he asked, offering a muddied hand to her.

She smirked, but her arms stayed crossed.

“I figured I’d offer you a ride off this rock instead,” she said. “How does that sound?”

“Excellent,” Ryion replied, standing up. “Let me wash up and grab my gear, then I’ll be ready to go.”

“No goodbyes to say?”

“Erlam and Ylain are at market. I’ll leave them a note on some flimsi, but I’m not really good at goodbyes,” Ryion said.

“I’ll wait out here,” Jaina told him.

Ryion headed inside, washing off his arms and face. He noted with satisfaction that the water flow was no longer a lazy trickle, but a steady downpour. Drying his hands on his shirt, he scribbled a hasty note to Ylain and Erlam thanking them for their hospitality, and then grabbed his jacket, checking it to make sure all his stuff was still inside. He was grateful to Ylain and Erlam for their hospitality, but that didn’t mean he fully trusted them.

He was nearly out the door when suddenly he heard his wife scream, a raw, primal scream filled with terror and fear. Ryion’s head spun and he saw a translucent vision of Shara running frantically, her face etched with fright. He saw a trail of blood on the ground. He whirled around to see who was chasing her, only to see his uncle Sarth lying on the ground clutching a blaster wound on his midsection. Ryion’s eyes widened as he heard Shara begin desperately pleading.

“No, please don’t! No! Don’t do this!”

He whirled back around and the motion made him dizzy. He tripped over the lintel and nearly fell, but someone caught him. Ryion shook his head to clear it and suddenly he was back on Rhinnal and Jaina Solo was holding him up to keep him from falling. He looked around for Shara or Sarth, but didn’t see either, just the house and street where Ylain and Erlam lived.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked him.

“I’m not sure,” he answered distantly.

“Let’s just start with standing up,” she said, helping him regain his footing.

Ryion stood uncertainly, still scanning the perimeter for Shara.

“Where is she?” he asked himself.

“Where is who?” Jaina asked. “Listen, your dad sent me here to pick you up, not babysit you while you go all loony on me.”

“Shara,” Ryion answered absently. “My wife. I saw her.”

Jaina glanced around; they were the only ones on the street at the time.

“There’s nobody else here,” she said. “Did you have a vision?”

“I think so,” Ryion told her. “She was frightened of something, and then I saw blood, and my uncle Sarth had been shot.”

The vision flashed before Ryion’s eyes again, and this time he saw Shara cowering back in fear. He followed the direction of her gaze and was horrified to find that his wife was looking at Ariada reaching down for her.

“No!” Ryion shouted, drawing his lightsaber as the vision faded, but the sense of urgency it had instilled in him remained.

“Easy there,” Jaina told him as she took a half-step back. “What is it this time?”

“I saw my wife again,” Ryion explained. “I saw Ariada reaching for her. She is in trouble.”

“Doesn’t she have protection already?” Jaina asked.

“I can’t let Ariada get to her,” Ryion countered. “She’d do. . . unspeakable things to her.”

“Do you want to explain the history here?” Jaina replied. “Why would she go after your wife?”

“Because Ariada and I were once. . . involved. We broke up after she fell,” Ryion admitted. “She’s going after Shara to send me a message.”

Jaina’s face blanked as she grasped the significance of Ryion’s words.

“Stang,” she swore, then broke into a brisk walk. “Time to burn sky then.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Ryion said as he followed her.

“Where is she?” Jaina asked.

Ryion frowned.

“Hard to say,” he said. “She was on Chalacta visiting her family one last time; she’s probably on her way back. She could be en route, or on Yanibar, or on Bespin.”

“Bespin?”

Ryion hesitated before explaining, knowing this was a Yanibar Guard secret, but decided that he was already in neck-deep anyway, and he would need Jaina Solo’s help.

“Most traffic to Yanibar goes through Bespin,” he said. “We have friends there.”

“Can you track her through the Force?” Jaina asked.

“Maybe,” Ryion said. “Not while flying though.”

“I’ll fly, you sense,” Jaina replied. “That’s better than the reverse.”

“Fine with me,” Ryion said.

“How urgent was your little vision?” Jaina inquired.

“Urgent,” Ryion said tersely.

Jaina made no reply, but by mutual silent agreement, they both picked up the pace, understanding that even minutes could be critical.


 * Yanibar

Sarth Kraen finished slotting the last datacard into his datapad, pulling the information from the device’s memory. He was weary and haggard, having stayed up all night to work on the repulsorlift powerflow interchanges that would connect the supplementary liftoff thrusters to the main body of the evacuation ships. However, the Council was expecting him. He threw the datapad in his satchel and grabbed his cup of caf. On the way out of the door from his office, he took a sip and grimaced—it had gotten cold. Sarth had just reached his speeder in the garage under Kraechar Arms when his comlink chirped at him with a five-note sequence that told him it was his wife. Sarth had no inhibitions about answering it; though the Council had told him that he was to report any contact with the party that had left Yanibar, he had no intentions of doing so. The other advantage of supplying most of the Yanibar Guard’s military equipment was that he could practically guarantee that they wouldn’t be able to listen on his personal secure comlink. “Hello, dear,” he said after making sure nobody was around. “Where are you?

“Back on Yanibar,” Cassi replied. “Qedai and I met up with Jasika on Bespin and she arranged for us to discreetly ship to Yanibar on one of their transports.”

“Really?” Sarth answered, surprised. “Did you already find Ariada?”

“Not yet,” Cassi told him. “Selu and the others are still looking for her. He sent Qedai and I back to keep an eye on things here.”

“Does Selu think Yanibar’s in danger?” Sarth asked.

“We don’t know,” Cassi told him. “But security can’t be as tight as it used to be, with Selu and the others gone, and with so many more ships coming to and from the planet with supplies and material for the evacuation.”

“The whole fleet is pretty much here,” Sarth pointed out.

“And half of them are tied up with the evacuation effort. If Ariada strikes us with something, it’d be from sabotage or a spy, not a direct attack.”

“All right, I’ll keep that in mind,” Sarth said. “Do you think I should report any of this to the Council?”

“I wouldn’t, not yet,” Cassi told him. “Not until we know something more credible. It’d only increase suspicion on you if they knew you were in contact with us.”

“All right,” Sarth answered. “Meet you and Qedai later at the house?”

“Looking forward to it,” Cassi replied. “I’ll comm Akleyn and have him meet us there.”

“Invite Ana as well,” Sarth suggested.

“Good idea. We can have dinner together.”

“It’ll have to be a late one,” Sarth said. “I’m on my way to a Council meeting.”

“Don’t worry,” Cassi responded sweetly. “We’ll wait for you.”

“I love you,” Sarth told her.

“I love you too.”

He closed down the comlink as the speeder left the heavily-secured Kraechar Arms complex. Night was falling on Yanibar, and a thick blanket of cloud cover was stretching across the evening sky. Sarth shivered as his speeder was buffeted by the wind. The weather control stations that had modulated weather inside the refuge for years now had a difficult time even doing that due to the climatic stresses imposed on the planet by the moon’s shifted orbit. Fierce windstorms were part of the new reality of living on the increasingly unstable world. He fought the howling currents all the way to the imposing government building located on a bluff above Union City.

Sarth parked and made his way through the carved edifice, passing through the security checkpoint without incident and descending into the underground depths to the sanctum where the Governing Council convened. It was late, so there were few people here at this hour—most of them had gone home for the evening. A long sloping ramp led down from the main administrative building to the sanctum, which was nestled in what had originally been a natural cavern. Right before the sanctum was one final atrium, a waiting area for guests and a final security checkpoint with two honor guards.

As he made his way down the passageway to the sanctum, Sarth took in the engravings and carvings that lined the walls. They depicted scenes from Yanibar’s founding as well as abstract representations of the ideals Yanibar stood for, and he had always admired the skill and craftsmanship of the carvings. Hopefully, they would be taken with them on an evacuation ship, a relic of things past. Sarth’s footfalls echoed through the passageway as he reached the bottom, but some nonverbal warning halted him before he reached the atrium.

He reached out with his limited Force senses and to his alarm, discovered that he could not sense the two honor guards. Sarth crouched down and advanced cautiously, only to stop when the leg of a body came into view. There was trouble! He retreated up the passageway and tried to comm the Yanibar Guard channel or the building’s emergency channel, but got nothing but static. Sarth swore—they were being jammed. Another thought came to him and he set the frequency to the secure channel that was reserved for his family, dialing down the volume.

“Cassi, are you there?” he whispered. There was a long silence with no reply. Sarth grimaced, hoping that his wife would respond.

“Cassi, come in,” he said. “It’s Sarth.”

Finally, after another tense several seconds, her voice came through.

“I’m here,” she said. “What is it?”

“Trouble,” he replied. “The honor guards at the Council are dead and both the emergency and Yanibar Guard comm channels are being jammed near here. I’m going to alert building security, but if Qedai’s still with you, we could use her help.”

“Understood,” Cassi told him tersely. “Stay safe, Sarth.”

“I will,” he promised, edging back up the ramp and hiding the comlink away.

Suddenly, a female voice echoed up from behind him.

“Seal the doors into the atrium. I don’t want any guests interrupting our conversation with the Council.”

Sarth heard metallic footfalls behind him and immediately knew that either droids or armored soldiers were heading back up the passageway, and swiftly. He was unarmed, and could not hope to defend himself in a straight fight even if he had been. Moving faster would only alert them to his presence. So instead, he closed his eyes and focused on an esoteric Force power Selu had taught him. The Force surrounded him and cocooned him, and Sarth bent it into a camouflaging shield that would hide him from both Force users and the infrared, visible, and ultraviolet spectra. Then, he remained as still as possible, trying to avoid any vibration that would make a noise or register on a sonic detector.

A few seconds later, two lean, predatory-looking droids advanced up the passageway to the door controls. They were bristling with armament and Sarth knew instantly that these were combat or assassin droids, and advanced ones at that. Unlike the ungainly stomp of most war droids, though, these moved fluidly despite their considerable armament, and three arms gave them 360-degree protection. Sarth also recognized a shield generator and knew that such droids would be difficult opponents even for trained soldiers.

Thankfully, the droids advanced past him without any indication that they had detected him. Sarth watched for several long minutes as they advanced all the way up the passage and they sealed the heavy blast doors at the far end, trapping him in here with the droids and whoever their commander was. However, one simple control panel would not likely be enough to keep him from slicing through and escaping. Then one of the droids then blasted the control panel, ruining his escape plan. Sarth scowled, and then an idea came to him as the droids stalked back down the passageway past him. It was foolhardy and risky, a plan that placed him in perhaps unnecessary danger, but he also knew it was the best way for him to help the Council—many of them were Force-users in their own right, and if they were not offering resistance, then the situation was truly dire. He prepared himself, knowing he would have two to three minutes before the droids returned and his chance would arrive. He tensed as they drew closer, readying himself just as they passed him.

Sarth called upon the Force again, this time, directing it into the droids. His long years of engineering combined with his own Force powers had allowed him to unlock means of influencing and altering droids via the Force, a rare talent among the Yanibar Guard, and one that not even Selu had mastered to the extent that Sarth understood it. His mind naturally mapped out the pathways he wished the destructive currents of ion energy to flow through, and soon, the two droids were engulfed in the tendrils that Sarth sent racing to pierce their vital systems. The droids struggled and writhed for several seconds as Sarth’s technique had to pierce through redundant backups and shielded circuits, but his efforts were rewarded when the two droids toppled over, smoke leaking from various orifices.

The effort required to disable the two droids had drained him, but Sarth managed to conceal himself once more. His courage bolstered by the success of his plan, he advanced down the tunnel while still hidden, hoping to find more information. He reached the bottom of the passageway and saw the two guards lying there lifeless. Sarth glanced up at the recessed holocams hidden in alcoves near the ceiling of the atrium and saw that small boxes had been attached to them, no doubt sending false feeds to the main security room. On the floor, he recognized a dead zone generator, a device which muffled sound in the surrounding area and commonly used by YGI. Sarth glanced up and saw that the ventilation shaft leading from the atrium up to the surface had been widened, with signs of forced entry from above, explaining how the attackers had entered. The door to the Council chamber was closed and Sarth had no desire to immediately open it and alert whoever was inside to his presence. Instead, he inched forward cautiously, retrieving one of the blaster pistols from the honor guards. Though he was far from an expert shooter, simply having the weapon made him feel better.

Just as he retrieved the weapon, the door to the Council chamber slid open to reveal a young woman in a form-fitting combat suit. It clung to her like metallic hexagonal scales and small glowing blue crystals were embedded in the surface. The woman was striking, with looks that would turn heads in any room that she entered, but Sarth saw from the hardened look in her eyes that this was a killer. On her back, she wore a frame with a living creature nestled on it, which Sarth recognized as a Force-damping ysalamiri—explaining why he hadn’t been able to sense the Council, or this strange assassin. She was holding a blaster rifle, and Sarth saw she was also carrying a pair of grenades, a sidearm, and a long vibroblade. He quickly ducked back to avoid the ysalamiri effect which would disrupt his Force camouflage. Peeking inside the Council chamber, Sarth saw that several of the Council members were down, with two more of the assassin droids standing guard over them.

The assassin’s eyes narrowed as she swept the area for the two droids she had sent to seal the doors. Her suspicion was reflected in her face and Sarth shrunk back into the passageway, hoping to avoid her Force senses. Suddenly, she snarled and whirled back to face the Council.

“I see you’re on to me,” she said angrily. “Well, that’s just too bad for your precious Council.”

She reached for the door control to seal them inside the Council chamber when suddenly Sarth sprang into action. He had the drop on her, and her droids couldn’t fire on him with her occupying the doorway. As long as he stood outside the range of the ysalamiri, he would have the advantage of the Force, while she wouldn’t, and she’d be encumbered by the bulky frame. This was his chance to stop whatever she had planned for the Council. While he knew he could have simply waited for help to arrive, Sarth had already discarded that option. If he could stop her, he was bound to try, even if it meant risking his own neck. Selu would have tried it, and even though Sarth knew he wasn’t nearly in the same league as a combatant, they shared that same determined spirit that wouldn’t just stand by while others were in danger.

“Stop right there,” he called, emerging from the camouflage. “Or I’ll put a hole right through you.”

She froze, then turned her head to look over her shoulder at him.

“So someone did make it down,” she said with a small smile. “Put down your weapon.”

Sarth tightened his grip on the blaster pistol.

“I don’t think so,” he said firmly. “I will shoot you.”

“And then what?” she mocked him. “My droids will kill the rest of your Council and you. Lower the weapon, or they open fire.”

Sarth gathered the Force to himself and took careful aim, preparing to do what needed to be done. He squeezed the trigger and a purple blaster bolt lanced out to hit the ysalamir squarely in its ugly body. The furry lizard died instantly and Sarth felt the Force immediately return fully to him. He unleashed the Force energy he’d been storing up, energy that the assassin had been unable to sense due to being inside the ysalamir bubble, and directed it into her two droids. They froze as the tendrils of energy overloaded their systems, paralyzed. His experience with the Force allowed him to channel his powers more effectively, and within two seconds the droids were rendered helpless. Unfortunately, that was more than enough time for the assassin to react.

The effort of destroying the two droids had required all of Sarth’s focus, so much so that he initially did not feel it. Then it hit him, a burning pain as if a miniature star had suddenly gone supernova in his gut. Sarth felt his concentration snap as overwhelming pain surged through him, accompanied by the small of charred flesh. He looked down to see a smoking crater right at his beltline. Suddenly, it became impossibly hard to breathe. He looked back up to see that the assassin had ditched the nutrient frame and the dead ysalamir on it to stand pivoted halfway towards him. One hand was holding a sidearm aimed back at the Council, covering them, while the other arm was wielding the blaster carbine with which she had just shot him.

Sarth gasped, his left hand dropping to clutch at the wound even as the waves of agony tore through his body. He collapsed to his knees as the assassin stared dispassionately at him.

“Foolish man,” she sneered at him. “Brave, but so stupid.”

Sarth stared up helplessly at her, lacking the strength to bring up the blaster pistol one last time. Her finger curled around the trigger and Sarth braced himself for another shot, wondering if it would catch him in the body or the head. He hoped it’d be quick, though at this rate, it wouldn’t matter—he was already fading fast.

The blaster fired, but Sarth’s diminished hearing registered another sound, a snap-hiss that seemed oddly familiar. A blue blur flashed in front of him as a lightsaber interposed itself between him and the blaster bolt, sending it ricocheting off the energy blade. With his last vestiges of strength, Sarth was able to sense Cassi and Qedai arrive through the ventilation shaft and smiled. They would be able to stop the assassin.

Cassi stood protectively in front of Sarth, her azure lightsaber blade ready to defend. The assassin’s response was to swing her other arm around and open up with both blaster rifle and her sidearm, which fired several metallic slugs at her. The barrage was too much for Cassi to fully deflect and she cried out as one of the slugs ripped a bloody line across her arm. Then a pair of whirling metal discs swooped down into the assassin. One cleaved deep into the assassin’s right shoulder, while the other slashed across the back of her thigh a half-second later, dumping her onto the floor unceremoniously. By the time her rear had hit the ground, Qedai had landed, recovering her second discblade and advanced with Cassi toward the assassin, whose left arm was clutching her chest.

“You’ll never take me alive,” the assassin snarled. “Or your precious Council.”

She mashed a pair of buttons on her chest plate and a light started blinking on the panel.

“Self-destruct!” Cassi realized aloud.

Confronted with two possible threats, Qedai tried to react, but was caught offguard. Faced with limited time and two separate objects to concentrate on, she chose as best as she could. The Zeison Sha hurled the woman telekinetically up the passageway leading back into the building as far as she could, then turned back to the Council, only to see a device on the central table that dominated the room burst into a noxious green cloud. She started into the Council room, only to see one of the Councilors, an older Rodian whom Qedai recognized as Councilor Asheram, wave her off. He was bleeding from the scalp and was limping as he struggled to his feet, desperation evident in his eyes.

“Get back!” he told her. “It’s a virus! She already said she’d use it on us if we didn’t cooperate!”

Qedai hesitated and Asheram lunged for the door control. Before she could stop him, he’d triggered it, sealing it off. Qedai tried to override the door control, but the Councilor had already used his Council override controls, the ones that gave them full control over all government buildings. As with all secured chambers, Qedai knew well that the room had been closed off completely and even the ventilation had been sealed off in favor of a compartmentalized pressurization system that had been installed in case of a cave-in underground.

“Sarth!” Qedai heard Cassi cry out. “Oh Sarth, no!”

Cassi raced over to her husband, kneeling at his side, aghast the horrible wound his hand was covering. It was deep and bloody, oozing with bodily fluids around a rim of encrusted flesh. He was trembling and sweating, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe. Sarth cocked his head to look up at his wife.

“Did we do it?” he asked her weakly. “Did we stop her?”

There was a rumble of an explosion from the passageway behind them and a wave of hot gases burst into the atrium as the assassin’s self-destruct triggered. Cassi felt the woman’s passing in the Force. She nodded to Sarth as she clasped his hand.

“Yes,” she told him, a tear trickling down her cheek. “We did it.”

“Good,” Sarth replied. “I’m sorry. . . I didn’t wait.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Cassi said. “You’re going to be fine.”

She placed a hand on his stomach and channeled the Force into her own specialty, an aura that engulfed his midsection in glowing blue light. Heal, she thought, directing as much Force energy as she could muster into the wound.

“Cassi, I love you,” Sarth told her. “Thanks for. . . for coming for me.”

“Save your strength, Sarth,” she replied. “Akleyn! Ana! Get down here!”

“There’s no way down for us mere mortals!” came Akleyn’s reply. “Didn’t exactly bring climbing gear.”

“Qedai, a rope,” Cassi told the Twi’lek, then turned back to Sarth, who was growing increasingly pale.

Qedai quickly complied, slinging a rope and grapnel up the ventilation shaft, where it was secured. She climbed up to help Akleyn and Ana descend the nearly ten meters, but Cassi remained at Sarth’s side.

“It’s been a good flight, Cassi Kraen,” Sarth said. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“No,” she replied insistently. “You’re going to make it, so don’t talk like that. Don’t you even talk like that.”

Another tear ran down her cheek, threatening her focus on her healing. Cassi closed her eyes, trying to concentrate despite the sudden wave of distress that had overtaken her. She attempted to stay calm, knowing that Sarth’s life hung in the balance, but her worry and concern were seeping into her mind, disrupting her efforts.

“Cassi, just tell me one last time. . .” Sarth said.

He didn’t say what it was, but Cassi knew.

“I love you,” she whispered hoarsely, clutching his hand fiercely. “I always will.”

Sarth smiled faintly, his head lolling back. Another hand was laid on her shoulder and she heard Akleyn’s voice call to her.

“Let me help, Mom,” he told her. “Ana and I are here.”

Cassi nodded, sliding over to allow her son and Ana to crowd in around Sarth’s prone form with their medical equipment. She knew that if anyone could help, it was them—Akleyn was an accomplished surgeon and Ana an experienced nurse, but at the same time, her fear for Sarth’s life swallowed up all her knowledge and confidence in their capabilities.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Akleyn told his father, somehow shifting into his clinical voice. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Ana shot Akleyn a look that Cassi knew did not bespeak confidence and she knew that her son didn’t necessarily believe those words.

“I love you too,” Sarth managed.

Then his eyes closed. Cassi muffled a shriek, clasping both hands to her mouth in horror.

“He’s still alive,” Ana put in. “Just unconscious.”

Akleyn looked up pointedly at Cassi.

“Mom, I need you to either keep healing him with the Force, or get out of the way.”

She nodded, and tried to return to Force healing despite the pounding of her heart in her chest.

“You’re strong, Mom, and so is Dad,” Akleyn told her. “We can do this. Together.”

Meanwhile, Qedai, far out of her league when it came to injuries beyond first aid and battlefield medicine, had turned back to the Council chamber. She frustratingly found herself still locked out of the room, and none of her attempts to gain access met with success. Though she had become a decent slicer since Ariada’s fall, she was far from masterful, and the Council chambers resisted all her efforts. Suddenly, a holo of Councilor Asheram appeared on the console in front of her.

“Stand down, Elite,” he told her wearily. “You do not want any of what is in here.”

“My duty is to protect you,” she responded.

“Your duty is to protect this refuge,” Asheram snapped. “And opening this door will only endanger everyone on Yanibar.”

“What about you and the other Councilors?” Qedai asked.

Asheram shook his head.

“We are already dead,” he said. “We were dead the moment Ariada’s assassin caught us by surprise.”

“I don’t understand,” Qedai told him. “How did she get here? What did she want?”

“How she got here, I do not know,” Asheram replied. “She and her droids burst in without warning and killed several of our Force-users before we surrendered. She wanted our override codes. She said she would kill us if we didn’t comply.”

“What did she want with those?” Qedai asked.

“She killed Ditka for asking that,” Asheram told her, then the Rodian suddenly spasmed with pain.

He leaned heavily on the table as he addressed her.

“I believe she was intending to poison the entire refuge with her virus. Those codes can control much of Yanibar’s infrastructure,” he said. “If she wanted to kill us, she could have done it immediately. For this reason, we told her nothing.”

“You saved the entire refuge,” Qedai realized aloud.

“As you will too, Elite Qedai’sherum Kraen, provided you do not allow this room to be unsealed,” Asheram told her.

“We should have waited,” Qedai remarked bitterly. “We should have waited for help to come before trying to free you. We could have stopped her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Asheram answered. “Her deadman device would have simply infected more people in that case. You, and those with you made the right decision to intervene when you did. You stopped her from torturing Councilor Keilasar for her codes.”

“That was Sarth,” Qedai told him.

Asheram nodded.

“Then he has our gratitude, as do you,” he said, standing with great effort. “The last act of this Council is to grant you and your party full reprieve for any laws you broke in your intervention, and to order that nobody come through this door while any danger of the virus exists.”

“Councilor, I. . .” she stammered.

“You have done your duty, Elite,” Asheram told her. “Now let us do ours. Don’t let our sacrifice be in vain.”

“As you wish,” Qedai told him, even though she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Is Selu still out there hunting for Ariada?” Asheram asked her.

“Yes.”

“Good. Tell him that the Council wishes for him to finish the job,” Asheram said, wheezing. “Set this madness right before it spreads to the rest of the galaxy. Stop her.”

“We will,” Qedai promised.

“May. . . may the Force be with you,” Asheram told her. “Now, go. Do not waste any more time with the dead.”

Qedai heard rumblings and scraping from the tunnel, along with shouted voices. The Yanibar Guard had finally arrived, several minutes too late to make a difference for the Council. She nodded somberly back at Asheram’s holo.

“For the refuge,” she said.

He gave her one last smile.

“For the refuge,” he repeated, then the holo faded out.

An assault team of Yanibar Guard commandos advanced into the atrium, weapons at the ready. Qedai slowly turned to face them, hands up in surrender, while Akleyn, Cassi, and Ana stayed at Sarth’s side. She had a feeling she would have a lot of explaining to do.