Force Exile VI: Prodigal/Part 10

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Selu led the way through the dark corridors of the Knightfall as they emerged from the turbolift that had brought them from the bottom extension of the ship to its main body, Milya close behind him. They both had their lightsabers in hand but unignited, ready to do battle, though both were also carrying sidearms and vibroblades. The other three followed behind. It was a quiet advance through the shadowy halls of the ship, marked only by emergency lighting and their soft footsteps.

“Strange we haven’t seen anyone yet,” Milya whispered to Selu.

“The Knightfall has a small crew,” Novera answered from behind her. “No more than a hundred, and most of them are likely restoring systems overloaded by your ion missiles.”

They had advanced another dozen paces when Selu froze at an intersection of two corridors, holding up a fist. The others halted immediately. He cloaked himself, peered around the corner, and then re-emerged as he turned back to them.

“Security checkpoint,” he said quietly. “Looks like two guards and three crewmembers, along with a pair of those droids.”

“That’s the entrance to the secured wing,” Novera told him. “The central core of the ship, where we lived and trained, and where Ariada conducted her experiments. This is one of three entrances to that core.”

“What’s the plan?” Milya asked.

Selu shrugged.

“I take the droids, you and Qedai take the rest,” he said. “Akleyn, you and Novera hang back.”

They nodded in agreement. Selu closed his eyes for one second, summoning the Force to him, and then turned sharply, striding towards the checkpoint, hiding himself from view once more as he approached. Then, right at the entrance to the security checkpoint, he materialized. Arcs of emerald energy shot out from each hand, directed into two of the hulking assassin droids that Selu was all too familiar with. They convulsed helplessly as the Electric Judgment overloaded their circuits and collapsed, smoldering and lifeless. Simultaneously, Milya and Qedai rushed into view. Qedai’s hurled discblades dropped two of crewmembers while Milya put the other three down with accurate shots from her silenced S-5XS projectile pistol. The small room’s occupants were killed within two seconds, their bodies draped over the consoles or crumpled on the floor.

“Easy enough,” Selu said.

At the far end of the room was a hefty blast door, sealed shut.

“I’m guessing that’s our next destination,” he remarked.

“Cut through, or slice it?” Milya asked.

“Wait,” Novera told them, walking over to one of the consoles. “I should be able to open it.”

She pulled the body of one of the guards off the console, ignoring the blood spattered on the controls. Milya peered over her shoulder while Selu kept an eye on the door and Qedai watched the entrance they had just used. For his part, Akleyn stood off to the side and tried not to look squeamish at the corpses his relatives had just created with shocking speed and ease. Novera fiddled with the controls for several seconds, then input an authorization code.

“Got it,” she said. “Opening in three.”

Milya flanked the door opposite of Selu, waiting for it to slide open. The release mechanism whined at first, then unsealed, the mechanism pulling the two heavy panels apart. An empty, dark corridor about ten meters along and two meters wide awaited them, with another door at the end.

“That one is unlocked already,” Novera assured them.

Selu and Milya exchanged skeptical glances, then advanced into the corridor, alert for any trap. A narrow corridor was an ideal place for an ambush, but it seemed benign enough. The others followed in the same formation as before. Selu halted short of the door.

“Enter on my mark,” he said. “I don’t sense anyone inside the room on the other side, but there is danger.”

“I sense it too,” Milya added. “Droids?”

“Not sure,” Selu replied, stiffening. “Let’s go.”

He strode forward, his lightsaber in his right hand and shorter-bladed shoto in his left. Milya was right behind him as they piled into the room, with the other three following closely.

In contrast to Selu’s premonition, the room was not empty. A single bed dominated the center of the high-ceilinged room and Ryion was strapped to it, with an array of medical instruments behind him. He was facing them, inclined slightly and looking utterly miserable, spread-eagled due to his restraints. The back wall was covered by a floor-to-ceiling mirror that Selu suspected was a one-way mirror. A stack of shelves was the only other furniture in the otherwise empty room, and only dim emergency glowpanels and two glowing green alcoves mounted near the ceiling on the near wall illuminated the chamber, casting eerie shadows across the dark metal floor. The air smelled of sanitizer and the sour smell of unwashed bodies. However, Ryion’s presence was not the most startling revelation they experienced upon entering the room.

None of them could sense the Force anymore—it had been abruptly cut off. The door sealed behind them, an ominous portent.

“Get out,” Ryion warned them hoarsely. “It’s a trap!”

Selu scowled.

“Of course it is,” he said. “But we’re not leaving you.”

“How touching,” interjected a new voice.

The mirrored panel at the back of the room slid aside to reveal Ariada standing there, flanked by a pair of her assassins each armed with a slugthrower pistol and vibroblade that were trained toward them and two of her Mark XII assassin droids. She had a confident smirk on her face.

“To come so far, only to fall short at the last minute. What a tragedy,” she said mockingly.

“If you think we’re helpless without the Force, you’re sorely mistaken,” Selu warned her, setting himself for what would be a desperate combat without any of the benefits of the Force that he normally used.

Behind him, Milya and Qedai subtly slipped to either side of him, preparing to spread out and hammer Ariada’s party from multiple angles. Since Ariada’s group was clustered together, the grenades they carried could quickly turn the tide of the combat.

“Stop right there, Master Kraen,” Ariada warned him. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And if we don’t?” Selu asked even as he prepared to spring forward to divert attention from Milya and Qedai.

“Then Akleyn and Ryion die,” Ariada told him. “Might want to look behind you.”

Selu risked a glance over his shoulder to see that Novera, even with her restraints, had taken Akleyn’s blaster and was jamming its barrel into his ribs. Her face was stony as she stared past him towards Ariada.

“I’m sorry,” Akleyn whispered. “She moved so fast.”

Selu felt anger wash over him at Novera’s casual betrayal. He turned around, struggling to keep his anger hidden under a calm exterior.

“Lay down your weapons,” Ariada instructed them.

Selu gritted his teeth.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” Ariada told him. “You were like family to me. But I will if I have to, and it’ll start with Akleyn and Ryion. Are you going to tell Sarth and Cassi that you got their son killed?”

Despite his anger, Selu knew that she spoke truthfully. She had the upper hand, as they had not anticipated the ysalamiri cutting off their access to the Force, or Novera’s betrayal. If it had not been for those, Selu was confident that he, Milya, and Qedai could have defeated Ariada and her group, but now, he was only risking their lives needlessly.

“I promise, if you surrender, you will not be harmed,” Ariada insisted.

Selu looked over at Milya, who had a disgusted look on her face, but she nodded. He took that as a signal and slowly set down his lightsabers. Milya and Qedai likewise lowered their weapons to the ground.

“Emerald, get the rest of their weapons,” Ariada ordered as her other two assassins spread out to cover Selu, Milya, and Qedai from a variety of angles.

“With pleasure, Mistress,” Novera said coldly as she plucked the vibroblades, pistols, and grenades from Selu, Milya, and Qedai.

“You’re going to regret this,” Milya told her icily. “I should have known better. Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

“Yes, you should have,” Novera agreed as she yanked Milya’s prized vibroblade from its sheath.

“I am impressed, Emerald,” Ariada said. “I was not expecting you to return in such a manner.”

“I had to play a dangerous game, Mistress,” Novera answered obediently. “But I have brought you a great prize, one which I hope will earn your favor.”

“Indeed you have,” Ariada agreed. “We will talk of this more, once these matters are dealt with.”

Novera sauntered towards Ariada with her belt loaded with most of their weapons, though she retained the blaster she had stolen from Akleyn. She brushed by Ryion as she walked over, smirking triumphantly at him, which earned her a hard stare and a clenched fist in return. Once Novera was close to Ariada, she turned and drew a second blaster, so that she had one in each hand, ready to fire on Selu and Milya if they so much as twitched.

“Ariada, this is a mistake,” Selu told her, figuring that he might as well try diplomacy. “All of this.”

“No, Master Kraen, your mistake was coming after me,” she said. “You did not learn from Bespin, or from Yanibar—whatever you do to me, I can repay much worse. You should not have interfered.”

“We had no choice, Ariada,” Selu answered. “We could not stand by while you killed thousands.”

“They were acceptable losses,” Ariada replied stiffly. “Casualties of war.”

“At least one of your assassins that you sacrificed? Was she an acceptable loss, too?” Milya asked.

“I never meant for them to die,” Ariada countered hotly. “I would never have sent them on a suicide mission! They fell in battle, fighting for a cause they believed in.”

“What cause is that?” Qedai asked. “Seems pretty different from the ones you used to follow.”

“Ah, my old teammate,” Ariada said, regarding her. “Of all people, I had hoped you might understand. You fought on the frontlines of the Yuuzhan Vong War with me. You saw what I did.”

“All I see is that you’ve fallen to the dark side,” Qedai retorted.

“And that has blinded you. What I have seen is the fall of the galaxy as we know it, consumed by war as the eternal struggle between the light and dark side of the Force conflagrates anew. The current Jedi Order rots from within, and while the rest of the galaxy may sit idly by, I will not.”

“What are you talking about?” Milya inquired.

“I am talking about the future,” Ariada said. “A future that can still be saved, but only if I succeed.”

“Succeed in what?” Qedai asked. “Killing thousands of people?”

“Succeed in purifying the Jedi Order and setting it apart from the galaxy so it can resist the coming darkness instead of being distracted by trivialities,” Ariada told them fervently. “Succeed in stopping the conflict between light and dark from overtaking the entire galaxy once more. Succeed in creating a new hope to battle against the return of true evil. That is what should have been done, what would have averted the onslaught of the Yuuzhan Vong. And that is what I will see happen.”

“In other words, she’s completely insane,” Ryion interjected.

“Reject me if you will,” Ariada said defiantly. “I am willing to bear that burden if it means averting the gathering storm.”

“I have seen nothing like this in my visions,” Milya replied. “How can you be sure?”

“The Force has shown me much,” Ariada admitted. “But I have seen more. In the dark places of the galaxy, evil lurks, Milya Kraen, biding its time. It senses the opportunity to strike drawing near.”

“And terrorizing the galaxy was the best way to stop this?” Selu demanded.

Ariada sneered.

“Question my methods if you wish. Your foresight and high-minded idealism has betrayed you, just as it did the Jedi Order, who, blinded by their own hubris, were manipulated and sacrificed like pawns by Palpatine. You, like them, fail to gain the proper perspective.”

Selu stiffened; the fall of the old Republic and Jedi Order, which he had lived through, was a deeply personal matter. He struggled to maintain his composure, knowing that Ariada sought to goad him with her words.

“Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons is still wrong,” he said thickly. “Killing thousands to stop a possible future is a reckless and evil misuse of the Force.”

Ariada shook her head.

“You are in no position to pass judgment on me, Master Kraen,” she said. “Your vaunted foresight and skills were insufficient to stop me before and now they’ve only led you right into a trap. You could not even see Emerald working to subvert you. For your own good, you must be imprisoned safely where your misguided altruism can no longer interfere until I have secured the future of the galaxy.”

She nodded towards her two assassins.

“Collect their lightsabers.”

“Mistress, a word,” Novera said.

“What is it?” Ariada asked.

“The future,” she said, “is in motion.”

Raising her blasters high, she fired into both of the ceiling alcoves that overlooked the room, shattering them. The Force returned suddenly to the room as her accurate blasterfire instantly slew both of the ysalamiri that were housed there. Simultaneously, Ryion opened the fist he’d been clenching ever since Novera had brushed by him, rolling the armed concussion grenade she had slipped him back towards Ariada and the pair of droids.

Ariada’s eyes widened at the sudden betrayal. She lashed out with a vibroblade that suddenly appeared in her hand, slashing at Novera’s back, but the grenade Ryion rolled back at her forced to leap aside, cursing. Novera fell to the ground while the detonation knocked both droids back and sent Ariada flying. Meanwhile, Selu and Milya had recovered their lightsabers while Qedai summoned her discblades back to her hands.

Selu dashed forward with lightsabers lit to interpose himself between Ryion and the droids. They struggled to their feet, but the Jedi Master was too fast. His lightsaber and shoto stabbed into their weak points, shearing through joints and frying their internals. The droids flailed around, trying to batter him, but Selu ducked under their clumsy blows. However, they were resilient and were apparently capable of absorbing multiple lightsaber strikes if not struck in precisely the right areas. Leaping above a vicious backswing, he impaled one through the neck and then pierced the other at the hip. Both collapsed, thoroughly defeated, as Selu took stock of the situation.

Meanwhile, Milya’s whirling silver saberstaff was intercepting each of the slugs fired at her by the assassin she faced. Advancing steadily, Milya maintained her steady defense. Realizing the futility of firing on her, the assassin switched to her vibroblade, attacking with a vicious back-handed swing. Youthful speed and dedicated training allowed her to force Milya a step backward as the older woman struggled to bring her larger weapon to bear against a shorter blade at very close quarters. Sensing Milya weaken, the assassin pressed her advantage. Her blade crashed against Milya’s saberstaff repeatedly. The assassin kicked out, catching Milya inside her knee and Milya grunted in pain, falling back further. Buoyed by her success, the assassin drove forward, unleashing a series of quick stabs at Milya, who this close, was unable to fully deflect each one and had to turn and weave to avoid injury. One thrust drew blood, jabbing across her shoulder even as Milya twisted aside. Milya grabbed the assassin and threw her over her hip, allowing the younger woman’s momentum to carry her forward, but the assassin recovered before Milya could bring her saberstaff to bear, blocking Milya’s hasty downward strike high above her back.

Riposting, the assassin attempted to push Milya back again with another rapid succession of blows. However, this time, Milya was more familiar with her fighting style—it was the same that Novera had used. She deactivated one of the saberstaff’s blades and gained some distance, allowing her to defend against the vibroblade more effectively. The assassin struck out aggressively and Milya did her best to respond, knowing that she only had two more steps before she was shoved into a wall. The assassin struck low and Milya countered, but the advantage of having youthful strength and speed was that the assassin could slash one-handed while her off hand struck Milya’s temple with enough force to whip her head to the side. Dazed, Milya reflexively threw up a blow that parried the incoming thrust at her midsection as she sought to clear her vision. Milya fell back another step, drawing her opponent in as her lightsaber collided against the reinforced vibroblade at blinding speed.

The assassin followed, intent on lethally wounding Milya. However, though she had adjusted for Milya’s now one-bladed defense, she hadn’t expected Milya to suddenly reactivate the second blade and unleash a blazingly fast defensive velocity. One instant, the assassin was driving her blade dangerously close to Milya’s neck with one hand while preparing to smash her other hand open-palmed into Milya’s stomach when the older woman blocked high. The next, she was staring in shock at the stubs of her arms where Milya had severed her hands at the wrist.

Milya stared at her foe implacably and her first instinct was to immediately run the assassin through in case she had one last desperate weapon. However, her years of training and devotion to the light side, as well as a mental urge from Selu, who she saw from the corners of her eye had just finished the droids, led her to do otherwise. Deactivating her blades, she cracked the hilt of her saberstaff across the assassin’s head with perhaps more force than was necessary, laying the younger woman out unconscious.

Qedai had likewise not been idle. Out of the three, she had been the only one with the angle to see Novera slip Ryion the grenade and was therefore waiting for an opportunity to strike. As soon as the Force had returned to her, she had somersaulted forward, twisting in midair to evade the first two slugs that the assassin closest to her had fired. Recovering with both discblades in hand, Qedai spun away from the next slug, slashing outward. The assassin caught the blow on her vibroblade, but Qedai channeled the Force through her other hand as it came around to face her opponent, hurling her telekinetically back into the wall. The force of the impact cracked ribs and drove the breath from her opponent, but Qedai was just as swift on the follow-up. Reversing the direction of her telekinesis, she jerked the assassin forward. Her opponent managed to partially avert her trajectory, soaring upward over Qedai and striking out as she looked down on Qedai from above. The Twi’lek warrior was unfazed, bringing both her arms across her body up over her head from right to left. The first discblade blocked the vibroblade with a metallic clang as the assassin vaulted over her head, while the second slashed across her mid-section. The grievous wound arrested whatever control the assassin possessed and she collapsed. Qedai whirled around and hurled the first discblade to crash through her opponent’s throat even before she landed, her eyes ablaze with pent-up emotion. The assassin was dead before she hit the ground in a splatter of blood.

“Everyone okay?” Selu asked as Milya knocked out her opponent.

“I’m fine,” Milya said.

“Present,” Qedai told him.

“Amazingly, fine,” Akleyn said from where he had ducked away in the doorway while his relatives had done battle.

“Ryion?” Selu asked while securing the assassin Milya had maimed and knocked out.

“I’m fine, Dad,” Ryion answered. “Hell of a plan.”

“Wasn’t exactly planned,” Milya told him dryly as Selu moved over to cut Ryion loose. “It was. . . Novera?”

The young woman had landed face down on the floor a little ways behind Ryion’s bed. A small dark stain was beginning to pool on the ground around her.

“She’s down!” Milya said, rushing over to her side.

“Watch the door,” Selu instructed Qedai.

In the dim light, it took Milya a few seconds to find the injury, a vicious vertical slash that had cut Novera open from shoulder blade down to nearly her pelvis. The wound was bleeding profusely.

“Akleyn!” she called.

“Coming,” he said dutifully.

His eyes widened as he saw the wound.

“Kriff,” he said, pulling on a pair of gloves and kneeling down beside her to open his kit.

Novera moaned as his fingers probed the gaping slash. Akleyn swore again and began working and Milya knelt down so the young woman could see her.

“I’m. . . I’m sorry I deceived you,” Novera told her. “It was the only way.”

“I thought you. . .” Milya said, unable to vocalize her lack of faith to a possibly dying woman.

“I know,” Novera whispered hoarsely. “You had to. . . to sell it.”

“It worked,” Milya told her. “You saved us all.”

“Ariada?” Novera asked.

Qedai shook her head.

“She got away. For now.”

Novera winced.

“Then it’s not over.”

“We’ll stop her,” Milya promised. “You’ve done enough—just lie here and let Akleyn take care of you. He’ll have you patched up soon.”

“Are you kidding?” Akleyn asked in disbelief. “I’ve seen nerf sides that were less carved.”

One stern glance from Milya was enough to silence him.

“Thank you,” Novera told Milya hoarsely, “for believing me.”

“No, thank you,” Milya replied. “For saving us all. You fooled her.”

Novera smiled thinly.

“Finish it,” she said. “For all our sakes.”

“I will,” Milya promised.

Meanwhile, Selu freed Ryion and helped him down from the bed.

“Are you hurt, son?” Selu asked him.

Ryion shook his head.

“I am stiff, sore, hungry, thirsty, and I have not seen the inside of a refresher in two weeks, but right now, I could run across Yanibar if that’s what it takes to stop Ariada and rescue Shara and Jaina.”

“They’re both here?” Selu asked.

“Ariada said so,” Ryion answered.

Selu handed him a pair of pick-me-ups and a bottle of water from Akleyn’s kit.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Selu asked worriedly.

“Yes,” Ryion insisted.

“She didn’t do anything to you?”

Ryion scowled as he administered the pick-me-ups.

“Let’s not go that far,” he said. “Let’s just say it can be sorted later; I’m fit to fight.”

“In that case, you’ll be wanting these,” Selu replied, handing him a spare lightsaber and the shield that Ryion commonly wore on his left hand in battle. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything else, but it would have slowed me down.”

“It’s fine, thanks,” Ryion said, accepting the weapons and guzzling the water. “Too bad you didn’t bring a pair of boots.”

“That would be with my other set of battle armor,” Selu remarked dryly as Milya rose from Novera’s side. “How is she?”

“Not good,” Milya admitted. “I thought for a second that she had betrayed us, that we had walked into a trap.”

“She had everyone fooled,” Selu pointed out. “Without the Force, it would have been impossible for anyone to know her true intentions. She was very clever, and very brave.”

“I hope she didn’t pay for it too severely,” Milya said, glancing down to where Akleyn had sedated his patient.

“Can anyone help me lift her onto that bed?” Akleyn asked. “It’d be a crying shame to have all those monitors there not being used.”

Selu nodded and floated Novera towards the bed gently while Ryion stripped off the thin blanket from the metal bed and sprayed the frame down with a sanitizer solution from Akleyn’s bag.

“Thank you,” Akleyn said as Selu floated Novera over the bed while Akleyn connected the monitors. “Now, I suggest you all get moving.”

Blood dripped down from the floating woman to spatter on the table and Akleyn worked quickly, signaling Selu to lower her to its surface once he was finished.

“One of us should stay here,” Milya said as she rummaged in Akleyn’s bag for a trauma bandage for her slashed shoulder. “Can’t leave you alone and unprotected if Ariada doubles back.”

Akleyn waved her off.

“Get going,” he said. “The more mayhem you cause elsewhere, the less likely you are to draw attention back here. And I personally prefer operating without blaster bolts flying past my head.”

“Are you sure?” Qedai asked him.

“Look, I may not be a fighter, but I’m not a coward,” Akleyn said. “By the looks of things, you’re going to need every trained Force-user you can get to stop Ariada. So get out there. Go on, Qedai. I’ll be fine. Besides, I won’t be alone.”

He jerked a thumb at Novera.

“Miss Tricky over here isn’t going anywhere, I don’t think. The other one’s hands are missing and she’s unconscious. I’ll tend to her when I get the chance.”

“I love you, Akleyn,” Qedai told him sincerely, her voice laced with worry.

“The feeling’s mutual,” he answered gruffly, burying his affection for her underneath clinical detachment. “The sooner you get going, the sooner you get to tell me again.”

Selu nodded grimly.

“All right then, let’s move. Akleyn, call us on the comlink if you see or sense anything suspicious.”

“Understood,” Akleyn said as the others headed towards the entrance that Ariada and her party had emerged from.

He glanced up at the monitors and swore at the dismal results.

“You should bring a doctor,” he muttered to himself self-deprecatingly. “Kriff, Akleyn, you should have told them to bring an entire surgical team.”

Selu peered through the chamber that Ariada had come through, an observation booth complete with recording equipment now ruined by the grenade blast. A door at the far side did not respond to Selu’s attempts to open it, so he simply slashed it open with his lightsaber. They emerged from the doorway into a corridor that ran perpendicular to the room.

“Which way?” Qedai asked.

“Judging by Novera’s specifications, the other likely prisoner areas are that way,” Selu said, nodding to the left. “The right leads toward Ariada’s inner sanctum.”

“Let’s split up then,” Ryion suggested. “I’ll head for the prisoners, you go for the sanctum.”

“We have another team hitting the sanctum,” Selu pointed out. “No need to split up.”

He pulled out his comlink.

“Master Katarn, come in. What’s your status?”

“Very busy!” Kyle’s strained voice came back a second later amidst a background of blasterfire. “Tyria’s hurt. Can’t talk!”

“Maybe we should go for that sanctum after all,” Selu said grimly.

“Me and Qedai, you and Milya?” Ryion answered his father.

“Agreed,” Selu echoed. “Force be with us.”

With those terse words, they split up, Selu and Milya taking the right-hand turn that led deeper towards the rear of the ship and Ariada’s inner sanctum, while Ryion and Qedai headed left towards what they hoped where the other prisoner-holding areas.


 * Control deck, five minutes earlier

“The bridge is another fifty meters that way,” Kyle told Tyria as they made their way through a deserted corridor along the upper deck.

Thus far, they had only met light resistance, and the two Jedi, along with their four YVH droids, had easily dispatched the armed crew that attempted to fight them. However, as they approached the bridge, a chill ran down Kyle’s back. He slowed his pace, indicating that Tyria should do likewise. She slowed also, drawing her lightsaber and holding it ready to ignite. They had been moving through maintenance corridors, hoping to reach the bridge largely unseen, only passing through occupied spaces when they needed to move from one junction to another.

“I sense something,” Kyle whispered.

Ahead of them, a heavy door sealed shut. A hissing sound filled the corridor as vapor began flooding into the chamber. Another door clanked shut behind them. Kyle felt himself begin to grow light-headed.

“Fire suppression system,” he said. “They’re trying to gas us.”

He pulled on a rebreather while Tyria did likewise. Kyle was about to start forward again when Tyria caught sight of a faint red light tucked away behind a bulkhead. The Jedi Master felt her grab his shoulder.

“Laser mine,” she warned him, pointing to the explosive. “They mined this corridor.”

“Can you disarm it?”

“Maybe?” she replied. “Depends on if there are other explosives and how the proximity sensor is set up.”

Kyle consulted his datapad.

“Never mind. We’ll cut a hole through the floor and drop down a level,” he said. “We’re not quite above the bridge, but this is close enough. About thirty more meters.”

She nodded and took up a position opposite him in the narrow corridor. Drawing their lightsabers, they ignited them and stabbed them into the metal flooring, cutting a circular hole about two meters in diameter. The durasteel disk dropped out with a clang beneath them and Kyle jumped down, Tyria and the four YVH droids following him. They were in a much wider corridor that led to the ship’s bridge, the entrance to which was only about thirty meters away. The fire suppression gas billowed down into the corridor, clouding their vision and Kyle beckoned them forward.

Rounding the last corner before a ten-meter straight passage to the bridge, Kyle suddenly sensed danger. Three large silhouettes blocked the entrance and as they advanced forward, he recognized them as the lethal assassin droids that Ariada was fond of employing. They opened fire as he leapt across the corridor to take cover on the other side of the intersection, avoiding a withering barrage of repeating blasterfire that began hammering at the corners and back wall of the junction.

“Ready?” Kyle called to Tyria.

“When you are,” she told him, igniting her lightsaber once more.

He nodded and emerged from cover with his lightsaber likewise lit and held in a guard stance, Tyria following his lead. They advanced side by side, lightsabers ready to catch the incoming fire. Immediately, the droids homed in on them, cutting loose with their blasters. When the Jedi were merely slowed and not cut down by the repeating blasterfire, the droids shifted tactics, adding grenades to their barrage. Kyle immediately sent a Force wave to knock the explosives back, but as they exploded in clouds of metal splinters he realized they were flechette grenades; effective against unarmored infantry, but useless against armored droids. He gritted his teeth and sent several blaster bolts back to their source, but the droid’s shields absorbed the impacts easily.

The droids were now using all of their weapons systems and the two Jedi found themselves being funneled down a corridor filled with blaster bolts, beam lasers, grenades, magnetically accelerated projectiles, and cluster rockets. It was a kill zone, and even Kyle could not advance against such fierce resistance. He sought shelter against the protruding collar of a bulkhead, flattening himself against the wall to take maximum advantage of the half-meter of cover. Across the hall, Tyria did the same on her side.

“YVH, advance,” Kyle called back to the corridor behind them.

The four skeletal droids advanced in unison, unleashing a furious hail of repeating blasterfire and minirockets. The two waves of combat droids blazed away relentlessly, and the self-healing laminanium YVH droids soon found that their resilience was matched by the energy shields of Ariada’s droids.

Kyle grinned as the four Yuuzhan Vong hunter droids advanced despite the punishment they were taking, charging down the corridor until they were just past the two Jedi. The opposing droids continued pounding each other relentlessly, filling the corridor with a dazzling lightshow and the thunderous cacophony of battle.

“Time to even the odds,” he told Tyria as he prepared to follow their armored spearhead down the corridor into the bridge where the defenders would be vulnerable to their lightsabers in close quarters.

And it was, though not in the way he expected.

Tyria had just dashed forward when she sensed the dark presence behind her. She started to turn, but it was too late. Something caught her in the back of her right leg just as most of her weight was on that limb. She cried out and collapsed heavily to the metal deck, clutching her leg as blood began spurting out of a wound that punched completely through her thigh.

Kyle whirled around to face the danger, lightsaber ready as he realized that somehow a sniper had wound up behind them. She was standing ready behind them, a rifle with an underslung launcher attached pointed at them. However, he did not realize that the grenade, hidden by the Force, had already been lobbed at them. It exploded with violent force amidst the Yuuzhan Vong Hunter droids, knocking two of them over and damaging the others. Kyle was forced to bring his lightsaber back to defend himself from the droids that were still firing on them. The sniper fired and a heavy slug caught one of the last surviving Yuuzhan Vong Hunter droids at the base of its skull. Sparks flew and it collapsed, twitching, as the round struck its vitals. The sniper switched her aim to the Jedi Master, who was about to be attacked from both sides. However, before she could fire, Tyria locked her lightsaber on and threw it back at the assassin. The whirling blade scythed through the barrel of her sniper rifle, tearing the weapon apart. Kyle wasted no time. Pivoting to the side and keeping his right hand with the lightsaber still batting away blaster bolts, he drew the trusty Bryar pistol he had carried for many years and fired three times. All three of the bolts caught the assassin in the chest, but they bounced off a personal shield.

Kyle swore even he was forced to return his attention to defending the fallen Tyria. His comlink chirped.

“Master Katarn, come in. What’s your status?” Selu Kraen asked him.

“Very busy!” Kyle managed to shout. “Tyria’s hurt. Can’t talk!”

However, he was granted a brief reprieve. The last Yuuzhan Vong Hunter droid, seeing its companions fallen, suddenly charged forward.

“Maximum efficiency,” its ultra-deep facsimile of Lando Calrissian’s voice uttered.

The opposing droids, which had been reduced to two by the steady barrage of the YVH droids, immediately focused on their charging opponent, but they were unable to bring it down in time, even after dousing it with cryospray from their third arms. The last YVH droid threw itself into the midst of its opponents and exploded with violent force. The detonation engulfed both droids and when the blast wave cleared, they were nothing but twisted metal.

Kyle turned back to face the sniper, a young woman who was obviously skilled in the Force. She had recovered from the loss of her weapon and had drawn a pair of slugthrower pistols.

“Now it’s just you and me,” he said.

She blazed away with both pistols, sending a flurry of magnetically-accelerated metallic projectiles at him. Kyle whirled his lightsaber through a defensive velocity that caught each of the slugs on his emerald blade, incinerating and arresting them. He charged forward as the assassin back-flipped away from him. She had emptied both pistols already and when she alighted, she held a sixty-centimeter vibroblade backhanded, waiting for him.

“I’ll ask you once to surrender,” Kyle told the assassin.

“You first,” she replied.

Kyle gave no reply, but charged forward, lightsaber swinging out in a blow that would split the woman in half. She caught it on her vibroblade and he followed up with a series of strikes that varied the zone of contact, forcing her to expend considerable energy as she parried first high, then low, then high again, then down to her mid-section. Kyle drove her back with ease, but a warning was set off in his mind as she gave more ground, nearly allowing him to push her into the scorched and blasted back wall of the corridor. He narrowly twisted aside to the right as her wrist gauntlets and kneepads fired a barrage of darts at him, throwing his left arm out behind him to add its momentum and hasten his evasion. The desperate maneuver evaded the darts, but left only his right hand gripping the lightsaber and dangerously exposed. The assassin struck out with a fierce blow that knocked the Jedi weapon from his hands. She stabbed forward for a killing strike, but Kyle continued his spin around behind her. Calling Tyria’s thrown lightsaber to his hand, he attempted to slash down at her back, but she reacted in time to parry the blow, unleashing a furious riposte that scored his left bicep. Kyle gasped at the deep cut and she immediately snarled and hacked at his face. Lightsaber clashed against vibroblade, stopping the blow short, mere centimeters from her face. She tried to overpower him, but Kyle was stronger and began forcing her back, muscling their locked blades towards his opponent. Sensing that she could not break out of the steering block, he forced her backward, pressing her into the wall. She tried to kick him, but Kyle anticipated the move and as soon she tried, shoved her further back so she was off-balance.

Centimeter by centimeter, the still-locked blades were forced back closer to the assassin. Kyle could tell that the strain of maintaining the backhand grip on her weapon while holding it above shoulder level was wearing on his opponent, while his own strength was greater and his height advantage meant that driving her into the wall with the locked blades was not nearly as uncomfortable. He could see the fear in her eyes as the two weapons were inexorably forced closer and closer to her body despite her best efforts.

“Forgive me, Mother,” the woman whispered.

Her grip on the vibroblade faltered, and that was enough for Kyle. He exerted himself with one final effort and his lightsaber drove the vibroblade back. The keen edge was rammed into her neck with a sickening squelch. The assassin’s eyes widened with shock and she shuddered as her throat was cut open by her own weapon, blood splattering out from the wound even as she tried to grab him. A second later, though, her strength utterly failed, and she collapsed lifeless.

Kyle felt Tyria suddenly pull him away with the Force. The Jedi Master flew back just as a laser mine exploded where he had been standing, showering that section of the corridor with a brilliant constellation of light as twenty laser beams lanced out from the mine, leaving dark spots across his vision. He landed easily by Tyria’s side, safely out of the way.

“Thanks,” he told her. “I didn’t see her plant the mine.”

“She was hiding it in the Force,” Tyria said from where she was still lying on the floor. “And you were busy.”

Her words bespoke confidence, but her voice sounded weak. Kyle checked the bridge entrance for further resistance and was relieved to find that the explosion of the droids had at least temporarily managed to stem the blasterfire from that end. For now, all was quiet in the corridor. He looked down and saw the pool of blood spreading from Tyria’s leg from a wound that had completely punched through the limb.

“She shot you,” Kyle realized.

“Yes,” Tyria answered, her voice definitely sounding pained. “Got me pretty good.”

Kyle realized with alarm that the rhythmic pulsing of blood gushing from the wound meant that a major artery had been pierced. Quickly, he stripped off his belt and wrapped it high around Tyria’s thigh just below the hip.

“This is going to hurt,” he told her.

Without giving her a chance to respond, he cinched it as tightly as he could, slowing the flow of blood to the wound. Tyria gasped in agony, but Kyle was relieved to see the gushing blood reduced to a trickle.

“Master Kraen, come in,” he said, activating his comlink.

“Here,” Selu answered. “Go ahead.”

“Tyria’s down,” Kyle answered. “She was shot—I think her femoral artery was hit. I’m trying to slow the bleeding down, but it’s serious.”

“You should continue the mission,” Tyria told him weakly. “Coruscant. Think about Coruscant. I’ll be fine. Stop the bombs—that’s what matters.”

“Belay that,” Selu interrupted. “Milya and I are heading for the sanctum from the other end, we’ll be there shortly. I’m sending you coordinates to Akleyn’s location. Get Tyria there and he’ll take care of her. He could use someone to look out for him anyway.”

Tyria shook her head.

“You hate guard duty,” she quipped.

“I’ll put up with it this time,” he said.

Kyle picked her up, slinging her over his left shoulder like a sack of grain despite its injury. This way, his right hand would be free to defend them, at least until he could set Tyria down and handle the threat. It was not an optimal arrangement, but the Jedi Master trusted that the Force would warn him of any imminent danger. Gathering his strength, he headed back through the corridors from whence they had come.

23
Ryion and Qedai advanced through the corridor nearly back-to-back, not trusting their trail to be clear, or the Force for warning. Ariada had already shown considerable proficiency in traps and cunning, and they had no desire to fall victim to her wiles again. Ryion had his lightsaber in his right hand and his shield on his left, while Qedai had her discblades. However, she had the protection of battle armor, while he was stuck with the dirty pajamas he’d spent weeks in.

“Have you seen Shara or Jaina?” Qedai asked him as they advanced quietly.

“No,” Ryion answered. “Ariada kept us separated.”

“You’re lucky she didn’t kill you the moment we arrived,” Qedai answered.

“I wish it was that simple,” Ryion replied sourly.

“What does that mean?”

He sighed.

“It’s a long story.”

“I bet.”

Qedai wrinkled her nose at Ryion.

“You know what? You stink,” she said.

“Sorry, didn’t have to time to hit the ‘fresher on my way here,” Ryion answered facetiously.

“Or a tailor,” she added with a snicker. “Nice outfit.”

“Thank you for noticing.”

They were silent for a moment, cautiously checking their surroundings as they moved down the corridor.

“What took you so long?” he asked finally. “To find me.”

Qedai did not immediately reply and Ryion wondered if his question had elicited guilt in his teammate, guilt at leaving him in enemy hands for so long.

“We had to be sure that we could disarm the bombs and rescue you. We knew we had one shot at this, so we had to make it count,” she said at last.

“Well, you made the right call,” Ryion assured her. “Wait.”

They stopped as Ryion noticed a heavily reinforced door.

“This looks promising,” he said.

“I don’t sense anything inside there, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Qedai told him. “If Jedi Solo is in there, it’s likely shielded by ysalamiri.”

“Let me see if I can get it open,” he said.

Ryion messed with the door controls for several seconds, then shrugged. Igniting his lightsaber, he began cutting through the thick metal. A instant later, a heavy block was nearly ready to give way, its edges molten from where he had cut through.

“Get ready,” he advised Qedai.

“Don’t breach too hard with it,” she told him. “What if there is a prisoner in there?”

“Good point,” he said.

Then, he gathered the Force and shoved the metal block forward, creating a hole. Ryion leapt through into the adjoining room as quickly as he could and was suddenly cut off from the Force. Qedai followed a split second after. They were in a room very similar to the one that Ryion had been held captive in, with a single bed again dominating the high-ceilinged room and only sparse furnishings otherwise. Just like his room, Ryion saw that there was a pair of alcoves no doubt housing ysalamiri. Jaina Solo was lying on the bed wearing medical pajamas the same color as his, alert and attentive. She looked like she had received better treatment during her stay in captivity.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she remarked.

“Is this a trap?” Ryion asked.

She rolled her eyes.

“Good to see you too. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit tied up here and I can’t access the Force, so I don’t know.”

Ryion frowned.

“This seems too easy,” he said as he headed over to Jaina’s bed and began cutting her loose.

“About time,” Jaina answered. “So I take it that you weren’t able to get free earlier?”

“No,” Ryion admitted. “But Qedai, my parents, and a pair of Jedi are here to rescue us, so I suggest we make the most of that opportunity.”

“The opportunity is a false one,” a disembodied voice cut across the room. “Your freedom is a lie.”

They looked up to see that this room had a balcony and two people had emerged onto it. One of them was a sinister-looking Thisspiasian, but Ryion’s eyes immediately went to the other person. It was Shara, and the Thisspiasian was clutching her tightly.

“Ryion!” she called to him before the Thisspiasian clamped a clawed hand over her mouth again.

“I’m here,” he answered.

“Throw down your weapons, or else,” the Thisspiasian warned them.

“Let her go,” Ryion warned the serpentine alien.

“I doubt you actually want me to do that, young Kraen,” he said. “For you see, your wife will die if I do. I have a fibercord around her neck, the other end of which has been tied to the railing. Now, lower your weapons, or I will be forced to leave her hanging.”

Ryion’s face was stricken with worry. Compounding his difficulties, four armored mercenaries emerged from the recesses of the room, bracketing them with Deck Sweeper stun rifles.

“I’m sorry,” he told Jaina, whom he had cut free from all but one of her restraints.

He turned to Qedai, the seeds of a plan formulating in his mind.

“You heard him,” he said. “Throw down your weapons.”

The Twi’lek warrior nodded, checking the position of the mercenaries around her, noting that they were both ready to spew incapacitating stun blasts into her. In unison, Ryion and Qedai looked at each other, and then began lowering their weapons with deliberate slowness, the stun rifles tracking them.

“My AI says there are two more assassins,” Qedai murmured to Ryion. “They’re on the ceiling, tracking us with rifles. Grids five and eight.”

“Then don’t miss,” he whispered back.

“You sure want to play it this way?” she asked him concernedly. “It’s risky.”

“I trust you,” he answered.

Just as they were about to place their weapons on the floor, they sprang into action. Qedai pivoted and spun around, hurling her discblades into air to take down two of the mercenaries as Ryion drew and fired Qedai’s slugthrower at the Thisspiasian. Both discblades struck home, just as the Thisspiasian hissed and shoved Shara over the edge of the balcony, ducking back to avoid the shots. Ryion then ignited his lightsaber, slashed it across Jaina’s final restraint, tossed it to her, and then lunged forward to Shara as she hung suspended from the edge of the balcony. He was able to just barely get his hands under her feet, releasing some of the tension even as she struggled to breathe. He looked up and saw the rope tighten, a clawed hand pulling on it, and realized that the Thisspiasian was still trying to strangle her. Ordinarily, he would have preferred that Qedai use her discblades on the fibercord, but without the Force, the angle was awkward and it would have left Aspra Serpaddis still holding Shara. This way was better, or so the thought. Ryion stood on his tiptoes, trying to let Shara’s weight rest on his hands, when the first stun blast hit him.

The final two mercenaries had not been idle. As soon as Qedai cut down two of them, they punished her with stun blasts, sending her sinking toward the floor. Now, their attention turned to Ryion and they fired on him. The first missed, but the second caught him in the back, threatening to knock him senseless, and if he did so, then Shara would die. Without the Force, his ability to resist the blasts was far less than Qedai’s. A slug from a sniper rifle hit the ground near him, and he knew that the assassins had reacted as well. Ryion twisted, using his pistol to fire on the location on the ceiling where Qedai had indicated that one of them was perched. Then, he switched his aim to one of the ysalamiri alcoves and fired twice even as he strained to keep Shara’s weight supported. Twisting aside as a second stun blast hit him, he fired on the last ysalamiri alcove and was reward with a hit even as he fell to his knees limply. Horrified, he realized that he had failed Shara, that her weight was now completely unsupported, but his scrambled nerves simply would not respond, even as the Force returned to him. Then suddenly, something heavy crashed down onto him, which his stunned brain could not process.

The mercenaries and assassins had been so intent on dealing with Ryion and Qedai that they had forgotten the reason they were protecting this location. As soon as Jaina had gotten free, she had grabbed the lightsaber and charged for the first mercenary. Without the Force and with her body stiff from too much bedrest, it was an embarrassingly slow charge for a Jedi, but she was able to reach him just as he stunned Ryion, cleaving his head from his body. Grabbing one of Qedai’s discblades from a corpse, she hurled it up at one of the assassins, which missed, but forced her to duck back instead of shooting Ryion, Qedai, or Shara. The second mercenary tried to fire at her, but she brought the lightsaber up even without the Force and batted away the blast, redirecting it back into him. He fell with a satisfying clatter, just as the Force returned to her.

Jaina felt a rush of energy flow through her as the ysalamiri died, restoring her connection to the source of a Jedi’s power. Weeks of patronizing and uncomfortable captivity had built up significant suppressed frustration within her, and now she would seek the justice she had promised herself would be wrought. Channeling the Force into telekinesis, she found the two assassins and yanked them down from their sniper’s perches. She sensed Shara near the verge of asphyxiation and mentally flung the other discblade to sever the fibercord, dropping the half-strangled woman down on top of Ryion. Turning, she saw the assassins had both recovered from their fall and were flanking her.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” one of them said. “You are too important.”

“Then I suggest you surrender,” Jaina answered. “The feeling isn’t mutual.”

One of the assassins spat and glared at her.

“I should have found a better way to kill you on Rhinnal.”

“I was just thinking that,” Jaina retorted.

The two assassins exchanged looks.

“The plan can still be salvaged without her,” one of them said. “And there are alternatives in place if this one fails. Better that than letting the Jedi escape.”

“Agreed.”

Before Jaina could question them further, they both drew sixty-centimeter vibroblades and leaped at her. Jaina stood her ground, pivoting first to block one slash and then the other. Her opponents were swift and well-trained, attacking from opposite angles so as to divert her attention while the other sought to land a crippling blow. The blue-bladed lightsaber Ryion had given her hummed in her hands as she defended herself.

Being able to resist, to fight against the powers that were behind the cruelty of Ariada, was deeply satisfying for Jaina after weeks of captivity. She was far from her peak fighting condition and the Force was telling her all sorts of confusing things at the moment, but she was able to find the mental clarity to focus on the battle. This was how she preferred it; straight and decisive action.

One of the assassins lunged at her. Jaina sidestepped the advance, parried another thrust that would have severed a leg, and then kicked out at the first one with Force-enhanced strength, driving her back several meters. Momentarily able to focus on one opponent, she drove the other assassin back, using the longer reach of the lightsaber to good effect. Her opponent was skilled, but Jaina’s combat skills had been tempered and forged in the fires of the Yuuzhan Vong War, against foes far more lethal. In comparison, the assassin’s moves were rote and predictable. The assassin gave way until Jaina had nearly cornered her into the wall.

However, before she could press her advantage further, the second assassin returned and Jaina was forced to split her focus between both of them.

“Mother just said to terminate this one,” one of the assassins told her companion. “Whatever means are necessary—she cannot be allowed to escape. Neither can the others.”

“Not going to happen,” Jaina promised as she vaulted backward away from them.

They pursued her and Jaina’s lightsaber wove a dizzying shield of blue light around her as she met the onslaught. Every blow was blocked, every feint read. Her lightsaber technique was efficient, vicious, wasting no energy on unneeded maneuvers. However, Jaina had been on the defense long enough. It was time these two understood what it meant to face the Sword of the Jedi. Slashing outward, she forced both of them back a half-step.

Immediately, Jaina turned on one of her foes, unloading three rapid blows at the woman’s head. The assassin parried all three, but having her weapon high allowed Jaina to snap-kick her squarely in the mid-section. She fell back, the wind driven from her, as Jaina pursued relentlessly. The other assassin closed in from behind, but Jaina summoned Force lightning and hurled it at her with her off hand. Unable to defend herself, she fell to the ground writhing as the tendrils overloaded her nervous system.

However, she was not done with the first assassin. Jaina’s lightsaber probed at the woman’s defense even as the woman’s blade struck faster and faster, hoping to ward her off. Jaina feinted towards her left and slashed at her right, scoring a thin burn line on the woman’s shoulder. The assassin lashed out with a sweeping blow intended to decapitate her, a grandiose wasteful move that Jaina simply threw her head back to avoid. Guided by the Force, she stabbed her lightsaber forward, running the assassin through. To her surprise, the assassin clutched hold of her, jabbing her ribs with a dart that she had kept hidden with the Force until she could strike. Jaina gasped as a vile concoction coursed through her veins and the assassin managed a hoarse chuckle.

“You’re dead,” she said despite the lightsaber protruding from her own midsection. “Just like you should have been on Rhinnal.”

“Not yet,” Jaina replied, pulling the lightsaber free with a twisting motion.

The assassin’s triumphant, wicked smile was frozen on her face as she died. Jaina could already feel the venom burning within her, racing towards her heart and lungs, seeking to bind itself to the nerves controlling the muscles that pumped her blood and kept her breathing. She gasped for breath, summoning the Force to exorcise the neurotoxin from her body. It was a potent concoction, and dark spots swam before her eyes as oxygen deprivation began setting in. Jaina lurched over, leaning on the wall for support, as the second assassin began to rise, brandishing her vibroblade.

“It is over, Jedi,” the assassin told her. “Accept your fate.”

Jaina continued to struggle to breathe. The toxin was beginning to take effect, threatening to shut down vital systems. She called on the Force, summoning the energy, her fogged mind trying to recall how her brother had used the Force to purge poison from his body in the Yuuzhan Vong War. Suddenly, a distinct and unique source of Force energy was added to her own as the poison spread to her lower body. It was familiar and yet different, and the added energy suddenly empowered her with a powerful surge of the Force. Revitalized by the addition, Jaina concentrated her efforts on purifying the poison from her veins, neutralizing the deadly toxin. With her mental reserves bolstered, the necessary detoxification routine came to her—she had used it many times before, but now she could concentrate enough to use it. The poison was altered and dismantled on a molecular level through her use of the Force, rending its deadly effects inert.

No longer in danger of collapsing dead on the floor, Jaina returned her attention to the assassin that was gloating in front of her. Narrowing her eyes, she made a grasping gesture with the Force. The assassin was suddenly jerked forward before she could react, yanked towards Jaina. The Sword of the Jedi met her with lightsaber lit and the air was filled the stink of burning flesh as Jaina’s lightsaber pierced her heart. The shocked and surprised look on the assassin’s face was frozen in place as she stared transfixed at Jaina. Jaina held her there for a couple seconds, staring with baleful resoluteness at the assassin, then snapped the blade off. The assassin’s body collapsed to the ground and she strode over to Qedai and Ryion.

A rush of dizziness hit her and she realized that not all of the poison had been completely purged from her body. Despite her earlier efforts, she was felt quite weak—the toxin had clearly done some damage. She staggered over to Qedai and shook the Twi’lek awake. Now with the Force restored, Qedai was quick to rise. Her eyes widened in recognition as she saw Jaina leaning over her.

“It worked,” Qedai said simply.

“Are all your plans this suicidal?” Jaina asked her.

“Just the best ones,” Qedai replied, rising slowly as she shook off the effects of the stun blasts.

Jaina suddenly felt her knees buckle and collapsed against the bed, leaning on it heavily for support.

“Are you okay?” Qedai asked her concernedly.

“Took a dose of neurotoxin,” Jaina said, gasping for breath. “Shook off most of it, I think, but I’m still a little weak.”

“Rest for a moment while I tend to the others,” Qedai told her as she retrieved her discblades.

She walked over to Shara, rolling her off Ryion and checking her pulse after cutting the fibercord free. To her relief, it was steady, albeit weak. Qedai placed her hands on Shara’s throat and channeled the Force into her limited healing abilities, seeking to restore tendons and ligaments that had been sorely abused by the fibercord. She was unconscious, but that was good, because at least then she was breathing. A few seconds later, Shara’s eyes fluttered open and she began coughing heavily.

“Don’t try to talk,” Qedai advised her, helping her sit up against the wall while she turned her attention to Ryion.

She kicked him gently in the back with one boot. He stirred and rolled over groggily as his body tried to recover from the stun blasts. Qedai stood over him unsympathetically.

“Ryion, this is twice today I have caught you lying down on the job,” she said sternly. “This will definitely be included in my report.”

Ryion’s eyes blinked open as he glared up at her.

“That was all part of the plan,” he answered jocularly. “A sign of good leadership is letting others do the work.”

Qedai helped him up as he took stock of the situation.

“It worked,” she admitted.

“Of course it did,” Ryion answered her seriously. “I knew I could count on you.”

He nodded towards Jaina.

“You too.”

Jaina scowled from where she was leaning against the bed.

“I’d love to join in the mutual patting ourselves on the back session, but in case you didn’t notice, one of them got away. The Thisspiasian—his name is Aspra Serpaddis. He stopped by a couple times—apparently he’s Ariada’s right hand.”

Qedai frowned.

“We can fix that.”

“No,” Ryion said. “I will.”

He knelt down by Shara’s side.

“My love,” he told her. “It’s me.”

“You. . . came for me,” she wheezed.

“Of course I did,” he answered. “We’re going to get you out of here and back home.”

“Ryion, promise me something,” she eked out.

“What is it?” he asked fervently.

“Promise me. . . this ends here.”

Ryion’s jaw set.

“I promise,” he said.

He rose and turned back to Qedai.

“I’m going after Aspra Serpaddis,” he informed his teammate. “Get Jaina and Shara back to Akleyn so he can check them over.”

Qedai crossed her arms.

“Excuse me?” she said. “Isn’t that your job, bootless wonder?”

Ryion scowled and began stripping one of the mercenaries of his footwear.

“Get some for her if she wants it,” he said, indicating towards Jaina and ignoring Qedai’s question.

“Ryion, I should be the one who goes after him,” Qedai argued. “You should look after your wife—and Jaina. I haven’t just endured two weeks of captivity, and I’m not running on pick-me-ups, the Force, and pure spite.”

Ryion turned towards her as he finished pulling on the uniform.

“Qedai, I am trusting you with my wife and Jedi Solo,” he countered. “I’m sending you because of those reasons. If it comes down to it, you have a better chance of getting them back safely. I’m going after Aspra Serpaddis because Shara is right—this needs to end here.”

“This is not a good plan,” Qedai returned.

“But it’s an order,” Ryion answered. “Last I checked, I outrank you, and my order is for you to escort Shara and Jaina back to Akleyn.”

Qedai glared at him.

“Fine,” she spat. “I’ll do it, but you better get your sorry ass back in one piece, or so help me, I will. . .”

“I know,” Ryion finished for her, then moved towards Jaina. “I’m going to want that back.”

She nodded and handed him back his lightsaber as he pivoted towards Qedai one last time.

“I’ll see you back with Akleyn and the others,” he said. “Shara, I love you.”

He leaped up onto the balcony that Aspra Serpaddis had retreated through. Jaina shook her head.

“I admire a good reckless streak, but he gives me a run for my money in that area.”

“He feels responsible,” Qedai told her. “Come on, let’s get you two back to a safe area.”

Meanwhile, Ryion charged ahead through the corridor that led from the balcony. In seconds, he emerged into a large training area. The central area of the floor was open, with a dueling ring drawn on the decking, while the perimeter of the room was littered with equipment and racks of training gear. A single silhouette was waiting for him in the center of the ring.

“Aspra Serpaddis,” Ryion said as he closed in warily.

“You know my name, just as I know yours, Ryion Kraen,” the Thisspiasian replied. “That is as it should be.”

Ryion ignited his lightsaber, preparing for battle.

“You should use your own,” Aspra Serpaddis replied, tossing him a satchel. “I will wait for you to check it.”

Ryion warily knelt down and picked it up after sensing no deception or trap contained within it. Inside were his and Jaina’s personal effects, including their lightsabers. All the while keeping an eye on Aspra Serpaddis, he checked it to make sure his weapon still worked. As far as he could tell, it hadn’t been tampered with. Ryion hooked the spare on his belt and brandished his own lightsaber instead.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Aspra Serpaddis nodded solemnly.

“Let us begin then.”

“Surprised a Dark Jedi would have a sense of fair play,” Ryion quipped as he stepped into the dueling ring.

“Call it justice,” the Thisspiasian told him.

The Force alerted Ryion as a small round practice droid came hurling across from one of the equipment racks towards him. He caught it on his shield, knocking it aside as he closed towards Aspra Serpaddis.

“What do you know of justice?” Ryion demanded.

The Thisspiasian’s four arms emerged from the sleeves of his tunic, each brandishing a lightsaber. They all sprang to life with blood-red blades that hummed ominously.

“That justice is not confined to one side of the Force,” Aspra Serpaddis told him. “Justice is blind.”

The Thisspiasian lunged forward, striking with all four arms simultaneously. Ryion ducked under one lightsaber, caught another on his shield, and fended off two more with his own lightsaber, spinning away from Aspra Serpaddis.

“You have much to learn,” the Dark Jedi informed him as he patiently waited for Ryion to strike again. “Much I could teach you.”

“About the dark side?” Ryion replied. “Not interested.”

He struck again, feeling out the Thisspiasian’s defense, and Aspra Serpaddis easily batted it aside with two lightsabers. A heavy barbell loaded with weights came flying at Ryion from behind. He cleaved it in two even as his shield took a lightsaber thrust.

“About your purpose in the galaxy,” Aspra Serpaddis said. “Like Ariada, you have great potential. I helped her find hers—the same could happen to you.”

Ryion jumped over a metal storage canister that came sliding across the dueling ring to take his legs out from under him. Aspra Serpaddis pursued him, but Ryion’s lightsaber defense kept the probing red bars of light at bay.

“Is that what you are, a teacher?” Ryion asked.

“A teacher, and a preserver, and a facilitator,” the serpentine alien told him, emphasizing each noun more than the one before. “I am the one who empowers others to act on their desires.”

“You’re one of the ones Ariada spoke of,” Ryion realized as his lightsaber cracked in a quick staccato sequence to fend another swarming attack. “The dark ones who hide in the shadows.”

“I endure,” Aspra Serpaddis told him. “I, and others like me, bear the legacy of our forbears.”

“A legacy of evil,” Ryion answered.

Ducking, he threw up his shield to catch a pair of descending lightsabers and stabbed low. The Thisspiasian blocked his thrust with his other two lightsabers, attempting to twist Ryion’s blade out of his hands. Ryion withdrew his own blade before it could happen, backing off and circling around.

“It is a legacy of power,” Aspra Serpaddis countered. “A legacy of ensuring that balance is brought to the galaxy by those strong enough to wield it. I was the one who gave Ariada much of the power she wields now, who helped her unlock the secret knowledge she uses.”

“I have no interest in such corruption,” Ryion answered stolidly.

Aspra Serpaddis’s eyes gleamed.

“Neither did Ariada. . . at first,” he said. “She came around.”

“She said she endured horrible things first,” Ryion countered. “Is that true?”

“Regardless of the methods, she came to embrace the dark path as the only one with the necessary power and fortitude to prevent the chaotic future that awaits the galaxy,” Aspra Serpaddis told him.

Ryion gestured and at his mental command a heavy table flew towards Aspra Serpaddis. The Thisspiasian contemptuously hurled a storage rack at it. The two pieces of furniture collided with a screech, sailing out of the dueling ring.

“Come, Ryion,” Aspra told him invitingly. “Let me teach you in the ways of true power. Let me give you the means to save the galaxy, just as you have always longed to do.”

Ryion’s thoughts went to Shara and to Jaina and to his family. He recalled Ariada’s words of pending evil that threatened the entire galaxy. Even as the Thisspiasian bore down on him, he knew what he had to do. He stood his ground.

“No,” he said. “This time, I do the teaching.”

Just before Aspra Serpaddis reached him, Ryion exploded into motion. His lightsaber, which had previously only clashed against his opponents in short, staccato encounters, now was a dozen places at once, jabbing and thrusting at Aspra Serpaddis. The Thisspiasian fell back as Ryion hammered at his defenses from every angle, striking unpredictably and in seemingly random fashion. Aspra Serpaddis hissed and Ryion felt his lightsaber’s hilt begin to burn and smoke in his hand. He caught one last blow on his shield and backflipped away from the Thisspiasian, discarding the ruined weapon. The Dark Jedi had lied to him—it had been sabotaged.

“So much for justice,” Ryion commented. “You lied.”

“As I said, you have much to learn.”

“My lesson first,” Ryion said.

Another rack of training equipment was hurled at him, but Ryion had switched to his spare lightsaber and slashed it in half. Turning to his opponent, he smiled confidently as he noted the sweat on Aspra Serpaddis’s face. He clearly had had to exert himself to hold Ryion off this long.

“This is Vaapad,” Ryion informed the Thisspiasian. “How many lightsabers are there?”

With that, he leapt into combat again, drawing on the technique that the spirit of the Chalactan Jedi Master Depa Billaba had taught him ten years earlier. Ryion’s mind embraced the struggle he was fighting and even his own inner darkness. He sensed the malicious intent Aspra Serpaddis was directing at him and redirected that into a superconducting loop that flowed through him into his combat. His lightsaber was a blur before his eyes, his body and weapon moving in perfect synchronization to strike immeasurably fast. He could sense the desperation in Aspra Serpaddis as even with four lightsabers, the alien could not react fast enough to all of his counter blows. Ryion dropped low again, but his lightsaber arm was still high, battering away at the four weapons of his opponent. He slammed his shield into Aspra Serpaddis’s belly with enough force to launch him back a few meters. Aspra Serpaddis set himself to defend against Ryion’s attack, just as Ryion leapt high over him, striking downward several times. Aspra Serpaddis threw up his lightsabers as a screen to defend himself, but Ryion’s ferocious Vaapad technique found an opening in the guard. One half stroke was all it took to sever one of the Thisspiasian’s arms cleanly at the wrist.

Aspra Serpaddis hissed in pain and whirled even as Ryion landed behind him. He slashed horizontally with two sabers, seeking to drive Ryion back temporarily, but Ryion was ready for the maneuver. The two lightsabers glanced off his shield, but Ryion’s lightsaber bounced off the third crimson lightsaber into a vicious uppercut that lopped off the two horizontally slashing arms at the elbow before they could use the backswing.

The maimed Dark Jedi fell back, horrified at how Ryion had dismantled him.

“Your words are empty,” Ryion told him even as he feebly tried to defend himself with his remaining lightsaber.

“Strike me down. . . in anger,” Aspra Serpaddis gasped. “Take your revenge.”

“No,” Ryion answered resolutely. “This isn’t about revenge. This is about justice.”

Lunging forward, he blocked Aspra Serpaddis’s remaining saber arm with his lightsaber knocking it wide. Then, with a single powerful blow, he cracked his shield across the side of Aspra Serpaddis’s head with enough force to crush his skull. Ryion sensed him die even as the body began to tumble down and dark side energy erupted from the body. He sank to one knee, throwing up his shield and a protective Force barrier to protect himself until it subsided. Then, rising, he looked down and saw the defeated corpse of the serpentine alien.

“He didn’t get away, Shara,” he told himself.

Then, he turned and began running back the way he had come, stopping to retrieve his sabotaged lightsaber and the satchel.

24
Selu looked up at the maintenance shaft they were climbing, relieved to see there were only ten more meters to ascend. He and Milya had been advancing up through the ship using the lesser-traveled maintenance accessways, which had given them more secrecy, but also required them to climb up metal rungs affixed to the interior of the shaft.

“Go up the maintenance corridors, she said,” Selu grumbled good-naturedly. “It’ll be easier, she said.”

Milya scowled from her position three rungs down.

“You’re just getting old and out of shape,” she retorted, mopping sweat from her brow. “We’re almost there.”

“Wait,” Selu said, belatedly noticing the tiny red light off to his side.

A red light which was attached to a small round box on the shaft opposite him that he hadn’t seen due to it being located on the top side of a protruding light fixture.

“Down!” he called, releasing his grip on the rungs and falling.

The mine exploded in a cluster of metal shards that sprayed the shaft where he’d been climbing a second earlier. Limited by the tight confines of the shaft, Selu plummeted straight down. He switched on his shorter shoto and swept it over his head in a fanning motion to shield him and Milya from the shrapnel. Milya had fallen all the way down to the lower landing as a secondary series of explosive devices cooked off, turning the maintenance shaft into a lethal storm of flying metal shards and laser bolts. Once they reached the landing, Selu and Milya quickly ducked into a side accessway until the shaft was no longer filled with razors and energy bolts.

“Okay, maybe not as easy,” Milya conceded. “Seems like she anticipated that we would use this approach.”

Selu peered around the corner, staring up the way they had just advanced and retreated back down.

“Well, the rungs on the ladder are pretty shredded,” he said. “We’d cut our hands to pieces climbing up those, even with our gloves. And I can’t jump that far.”

“How about a cable?” Milya asked. “Put a grapnel up there and then ascend that way.”

“Works for me,” Selu told her.

His comlink chirped.

“Go ahead,” Selu answered, ducking back into the access corridor.

“Cresh One here,” Colonel Dristaff told him. “My troops have taken the main engineering compartments, but we’re facing heavy resistance from mercenaries and some upgunned droids. I’ve lost most of my fire support and I’m taking casualties.”

“I’m familiar with them,” Selu replied. “Disable the hyperdrive and fall back to the Hawk-bat. We’ll need you and your men to defend the ship until the rest of the teams return.”

“Understood,” Dristaff answered. “My surviving demolitionist is almost done.”

“Good work,” Selu responded.

“One more thing, sir. The ship’s crew has partially restored engines, but while they were offline, it appears its orbit decayed significantly. Due to the way the hyperdrive is integrated, it’s likely the ship will lose sublight ion engines when we activate the charges.”

Selu’s voice betrayed the alarm running through him.

“So we’re crashing and shutting down the hyperdrive will make us crash faster.”

“Correct,” Dristaff agreed. “You see the dilemma.”

“I think I do,” Selu responded.

“Dear, I hate to be the pessimist, but it did occur to you that even if we survive the crash, the only two destinations in this system close enough for escape pods are a gas giant and a volcanic inferno?” Milya offered.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Selu replied. “We’ll just have to be quick about things.”

He thumbed the comlink again.

“Set your charges, Cresh One. Put a thirty minute mechanical secondary timer on them to go with a remote trigger.”

“Do you want me to failsafe them?”

“Yes,” Selu answered resolutely, knowing that such a measure would cause the explosives to detonate if they were tampered with. “This ship is not escaping this system. I only want those charges disarmed if we give the command.”

“Understood. Cresh One out.”

Selu switched the comlink frequency over to Akleyn’s.

“Akleyn, are you there?” he asked.

“He’s occupied at the moment,” Qedai’s voice replied instead.

“What’s your status?”

“We rescued all of the prisoners—we have Jaina and Shara. Master Katarn and Jedi Tainer are here as well, but they didn’t make it to the bridge. The Jedi say that an exploding droid put a hull breach in the bridge and it’s sealed off. We’re treating casualties and watching for trouble.”

“We’re almost to the sanctum,” Selu replied. “Tell Akleyn to get everyone back to the Hawk-bat; the commandos should be waiting for you.”

“What about you?” Qedai asked.

“We’ll be fine, but the ship’s orbit is decaying, so we don’t have a lot of time to move the wounded,” Selu explained.

“Should I come up and help?” Qedai asked.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Selu said. “I want you and Ryion to safeguard the others back to the Hawk-bat.”

“Understood. Qedai out.”

He closed down the comlink and peeked up the access shaft.

“All right, let’s try this again.”

Retrieving a grapnel and cable from his belt, he expertly flung the line up until the hook caught on one of the rungs. Pulling it taught, Selu tested it and found that it would hold his weight. He began climbing up the cable, his legs walking up the side of the shaft while his arms kept a firm grip on the line. Milya followed closely behind him. They advanced the first thirty meters without incident, pausing to rest on a set of rungs that hadn’t been too badly shredded. Selu retrieved the grapnel and flung it up to rest near the top of the shaft.

“Just another twenty meters or so,” he said, gauging the distance.

“Good,” Milya replied.

They started climbing up again, when suddenly a shadowy figure appeared at the edge of the shaft. Selu and Milya sensed Ariada’s presence and Selu raised his lightsaber to defend them, knowing that they were vulnerable to an attack while ascending. Instead of attacking them directly, though, Ariada fired a single slug at the cable holding them up. The shot was aimed well and severed it cleanly, plunging Selu and Milya down through the shaft once again, tumbling uncontrolled.

Mid-fall, Selu reached down and caught Milya, hauling her up to his level. He braced his feet against one side of the shaft perpendicular to the rungs and his back against hers. She caught the hint and did the same while Selu camouflaged them both with the Force. They sat there, suspended over the shaft and held up only by their mutual support.

“This time,” Selu whispered. “We chimney the rest of the way up cloaked. She won’t know we’re coming until we’re at the top.”

“Third time’s the charm,” Milya quipped as they made their up once more.

This time, aided by the stealth, they were not attacked, nor did they encounter any more explosive devices or traps en route. As they reached the top of the shaft, Milya signaled Selu to stop. Signaling upward, she indicated danger. They both stopped a meter short of the top of the maintenance shaft. Milya retrieved a small bottle of water and squirted a few drops upward. Several of them caught on a gossamer-thin wire stretched across the lip of the shaft, dangling there as a warning sign.

“I wonder what that is rigged to,” Selu muttered.

Shoving off against each other, they leapt onto the opposite sides of the shaft and pulled themselves over the lip to avoid the wire while still cloaked. There was no sign of opposition at the top of the shaft, so they lowered the Force camouflage, knowing it was taxing on their mental reserves to maintain it for long. Looking down, Selu noticed that the wire had been connected to a fragmentation mine. Carefully, he disarmed it—if they needed to retreat quickly, the mine was an unneeded obstacle. Milya picked it up and stowed the mine on her belt. Selu gave her a quizzical look.

“Never know when a spare explosive could be useful,” she replied simply.

Selu shrugged and they continued towards the single hatch leading into the maintenance annex.

“Through the door, then there’s a secured hatch leading to the sanctum five meters directly across,” Selu told her. “We should probably cloak.”

Milya nodded and they both shimmered out of view. The door leading out of the maintenance annex was unlocked, although when they opened it, Milya noticed the almost-invisible tripwire of another fragmentation mine. They stepped over it with care and saw two armored mercenaries standing guard in front of them, standing by the secured hatch that Selu had described—probably the two minelayers. Selu signaled the mercenaries first, then the mine. Milya nodded and followed suit.

The two Elite Guardians silently crept up on the two hapless guards, emerging from stealth only to strike. The mercenaries’ armor meant that an incapacitating blow might not immediately disable, so Selu regretfully knew they had to attack lethally in order to preserve stealth. He approached his target from behind and slid his vibroblade into the base of the mercenary’s head, a single lethal stab, while Milya used a back-handed stab between the ribs as her killing blow. Despite their disparate targets, both were equally effective, collapsing the two mercenaries on the floor. Selu retrieved his vibroblade, wiping its edge off before returning it to his sheath and staring at the two mercenaries distastefully.

“Pity it had to be like that,” he murmured.

“Can’t save everyone, Selu,” Milya told him as she moved back over to the second mine and disarmed it.

They flanked the secured hatch leading into the inner sanctum.

“Not going to be much point in stealth when she knows we’re coming after her,” Selu remarked. “You think she’s in there?”

“Ariada has something up her sleeve for the endgame,” Milya replied. “I don’t sense her anymore—she’s hiding herself.”

“Shouldn’t we be able to sense her?” Selu asked, frowning. “I’m even trying to search through Force camouflage, and I don’t sense her, just hints of her presence.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Milya answered. “The controls to those bombs on Coruscant are in there. Either Ariada can face us in there, or she can face us when her ship crashes.”

“Unless she escaped in another ship already,” Selu pointed out.

“The bombs first, Selu,” Milya told him. “Ariada next.”

He nodded and slapped a pair of breaching charges on the door.

“Let’s hope this does the trick.”

Moving safely out of the way, he triggered the charges, blowing the door off of its hinges and into the sanctum. Cautiously, the two entered the room.

It was larger than they would have expected and with an angled ceiling with a central apex instead of the typically flat architecture expected in a ship. Large urns and holders containing eerily-glowing deep blue crystals were littered around the floor. Many of the shards were slender and sharp-edged, jutting up from their fixtures menacingly. An elevated platform with a single black chair occupied the center of the room, while a large stern-facing viewport occupied the rear of the room, with a pair of expansive control consoles situated just underneath. The side walls were likewise lined with computers and holographic displays intermingled with planters filled with the crystals. One wall held a pair of what appeared to be small bacta tanks connected to extensive life-support machinery. Long sloping support columns that ran from the ceiling down to the floor were interspersed through the room’s length, creating a triangular colonnade down the middle of the room and sectioning off the computer banks from the central corridor. Only the chair platform served as a break in the otherwise equally-staggered columns. As with the rest of the ship, the floor, walls, and ceiling were a dark matte metal, with minimal lighting provided—the computer displays, holos, and emergency lighting were all that illuminated the sanctum. It was deathly quiet, a stark contrast to the explosion that had accompanied the breach.

Selu glanced around, searching for any sign of Ariada, but the room appeared to be deserted.

“Ariada?” he called. “It’s time to end this.”

“We can still talk this over,” Milya added. “If you’re here, you can come out.”

There was no immediate answer, so the two Elite Guardians continued forward cautiously, weapons ready but not activated.

“Ariada?” Selu tried again.

From the darkness, a cold voice echoed through the sanctum.

“Master Kraen, why are you here?” Ariada asked them challengingly.

Selu and Milya froze, sweeping the room with their eyes for signs of Ariada, but she was not visible to their eyes or their Force senses.

“Ariada, come out,” Selu said. “Nobody else needs to die today.”

“And throw myself at your mercy?” she asked mockingly from the shadows. “I’m not the foolish, naïve little girl you once trained.”

“It’s your choice,” Milya replied. “But this ends today. We’re disarming your bombs on Coruscant and Bespin, and then we’re putting a stop to your terrorism.”

“You’re too late,” Ariada told them mockingly. “As soon as you were detected on my ship, I activated the timers on those bombs. They will detonate in twenty minutes.”

Selu and Milya exchanged worried looks—out of all the possible contingencies, this was the one they feared the most. Milya’s jaw stiffened.

“You’re going to kill millions of people,” she stated flatly. “And that doesn’t bother you.”

“I will do what it is necessary,” Ariada’s disembodied voice floated out to them. “I will force the Galactic Alliance to recognize their own frailty, their own dependence on the corrupt, inept Jedi Order, and excise the cancer from their body.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Selu replied.

“Is it? The greatest threats to the galaxy have come from within the Jedi Order, and usually when they were distracted, too enmeshed in the greater workings of the reigning government to see the true danger,” Ariada told them. “Ulic Qel-Droma in the Krath Wars. . . Revan in the Jedi Civil War. . . Anakin Skywalker in the fall of the Republic. . . and I foresee more will come.”

“And you and the Yuuzhan Vong War,” Milya countered. “You were able to escape from Yanibar because we were trying to stop the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“Which only underscores my point,” Ariada said. “The Jedi should focus on stopping the true threat and the government should not rely on them to solve all of its problems. That is a dangerous dynamic.”

“Your conclusion is flawed,” Selu answered. “You’re selecting examples which suit your argument instead of examining the true scope of things. In the New Sith Wars, it was the Jedi who stopped Kaan’s Sith. In the Great Galactic War, the Jedi and Republic combined to defeat the Sith Emperor. The Jedi and Galactic Alliance together stopped the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“I am surprised you are so sanguine about the loss of the old Jedi Order, Master Kraen,” Ariada retorted. “Given that it was the Jedi Order’s lack of foresight that led to their slaughter at the hands of Darth Vader.”

Selu winced as Ariada dredged up that painful memory, but he remained resolute.

“Killing millions on Coruscant and Bespin won’t change that, Ariada,” he argued. “Surely you can see that this won’t help you accomplish your goal.”

“Oh, but it will,” she responded. “It will throw the Galactic Alliance and Jedi Order into turmoil, while I escape with the hope for the future.”

“And what is that?” Milya demanded. “More bioweapons?”

Ariada laughed, an amused, gloating laugh devoid of cheer.

“Ah, so Ryion didn’t tell you,” she answered. “How amusing.”

“Well, you always did like the big reveal,” Selu said. “Why don’t you tell us?”

“I have combined his and Jaina Solo’s DNA to create a child,” Ariada replied. “A child with Force potential from both of their bloodlines, inordinately strong in the Force and mine to train. My successor, to train in secret for the day when the galaxy shall need restored.”

Selu’s and Milya’s eyes widened as they realized, distraught, what Ariada had done. She hadn’t just wanted Jaina and Ryion as leverage—she had hidden her real purpose within her demand, and they had missed it.

“That’s monstrous,” Milya hissed.

“It was necessary,” Ariada countered.

“I’m sure Ryion was pleased with this plan,” Selu answered dryly.

“His opinion and his cooperation are irrelevant—I have what I need, and even now the child is growing inside Jedi Solo,” Ariada replied.

“Who, by the way, we rescued,” Milya countered. “So much for that plan. But you’re still a monster for trying it.”

There was silence for a moment.

“It does not matter,” Ariada snapped. “I still have excess genetic material—I will escape, bide my time, and create a new child. I doubt you will simply allow such a creature, conceived against the will of its parents, to exist.”

“Not our decision,” Selu answered tightly, trying to hide his distress from Ariada. “But you’re jumping ahead again to the part where you escape.”

“You cannot stop me,” Ariada said. “You cannot disarm the bombs, you cannot stop me from fleeing, and you cannot even detect me in this room. Here, Master Kraen, is where my power is stronger.”

“The Ilnash crystals,” Milya realized. “Novera told me about those.”

A flash of anger crept into Ariada’s voice.

“She is not yours,” she said. “Emerald is my servant.”

“Wrong again,” Milya countered. “She was your servant, a hapless little girl who was brainwashed into giving everything for you. Now she’s free and alive—unlike most of your other assassins.”

Ariada’s full fury was now inflected into her voice as she seethed.

“You have cost me very dearly, Masters Kraen,” she told them. “You have clearly taken my ship. You have taken the lives of my daughters. You have taken the successor I created to save the future. But you will not take me!”

“You still don’t get it,” Milya replied. “They were never your daughters. They were your tools that you deluded into thinking that you cared about. You sacrificed them freely, sending them to do your bidding.”

“That is a lie!” Ariada shrieked. “I cared for them for ten years, ten years in which their every need was met.”

“Except for one,” Selu said sadly. “They never learned how to love.”

“They loved me,” Ariada spat. “I loved them back, and that was enough.”

“Only because they didn’t know better,” Milya answered. “Because you fed them a diet of lies until they were your devoted slaves.”

“Always twisting, always scheming,” Ariada crooned maliciously. “Just like you did to me, Director Kraen. Turning me into your own little puppet, a tool in the hand of Yanibar. Except I wouldn’t conform.”

“That’s not true,” Selu answered. “You chose your own path—you chose to enter the Elite Guardians. You chose to leave.”

“There’s no choice this time,” Milya stated flatly. “Those bombs will be disarmed, and you will face justice for your crimes. One way or another. You can surrender, or we will stop you ourselves.”

“Go ahead and try,” Ariada answered triumphantly. “You cannot even find me here.”

“I thought you would have known better,” Selu retorted. “There is no try.”

With that, he and Milya ignited their lightsabers, standing back to back. However, Milya only lit one blade, filling her other hand with her silenced S-5XS pistol. Taking aim, she opened fire on several of the crystals, gouging deep holes in them. Though she was disappointed they didn’t shatter, she instead called instruction to Selu.

“Let’s try lightsabers,” she said.

Moving together, they closed on one of the crystal-bearing urns. Selu thrust out with his lightsaber, slicing one of the crystals in half. At the last second, Milya called out a mental warning to him.

Duck!

Selu dropped and Milya brought her lightsaber around to parry a dark blue-bladed lightsaber that had come whirling out of nowhere. It clashed against her blade, then went flying off into the distance before disappearing into nothing.

“Good save,” Selu told his wife as he stabbed the other crystal in the urn with his shoto.

“She’s going to keep trying that until we can see through her camouflage.”

“Then we better work fast.”

Leaping forward in unison, Selu and Milya launched themselves at the next cluster of crystals. As they flew through the air, two more short-bladed deep blue lightsabers flew at them from varying angles, emerging from camouflage just before they struck. Selu and Milya parried them away, landing beside the crystals. Quick, efficient slashes bisected the crystals, leaving them steaming and smoldering as bits of liquid mineral dribbled down from the cut marks. They felt the dark side energy contained within the mineral diffuse as it was released.

A feral scream tore their concentration away as Ariada decloaked, flipping down to land behind them, a short-bladed lightsaber held in each hand. She struck quickly at each one, and both Selu and Milya were hard-pressed to defend her blows. Before they could counter-attack, Ariada leapt away, disappearing as she did so. Selu’s and Milya’s senses still could not detect her. She re-emerged a second later, striking low at Milya’s heel. Milya parried her blow, then counter-attacked with an underhanded swing that drove Ariada back. She kicked out, sending Ariada flying into one of the sloped support columns. Selu reacted immediately, releasing the green bolts of Electric Judgment from his hand, but not at Ariada where she could use her lightsabers to defend herself. Instead, he aimed for the top of the metal support column, where the bolts were conducted down into her.

She screamed as the lightning consumed her, writhing helplessly.

“Surrender,” Selu told her sternly even as the energy poured from his hand.

“Never!” she screamed, gesturing viciously.

Translucent blue tendrils began emanating from her hands and her back, assuming serpentine shapes and lunging at Selu. He brought his lightsaber up to guard against them, but they ignored the Jedi weapon and plunged into him. Suddenly, his chest was filled with immeasurable agony and pressure. Gasping for breath, he was forced to cease his Electric Judgment barrage. Ariada slid off of the column and vanished, while Selu was bent nearly double, clutching at his chest.

“What is it?” Milya asked frantically, rushing to his side and laying her hand on top of his.

“Some kind of Force power,” he answered. “I suddenly felt. . . weak.”

Milya closed her eyes, trying to sense what damage had been inflicted on his body.

“She’s weakened your pericardium,” she told him. “She was trying to perforate your heart.”

“I’m all right, I think,” Selu said, recovering somewhat. “She didn’t stop because of mercy—she was too weak to kill me.”

“Good thing,” Milya answered. “How do we stop it?”

“I think a Force barrier would do it,” Selu replied. “Don’t let it get into you.”

Ariada struck out of the darkness again, lashing out at Selu. He was ready, though, blocking her shorter-bladed lightsabers with his own shoto and lightsaber. Milya swung at her, but she twisted away and disappeared.

“The crystals,” Milya reminded Selu. “Have to destroy them.”

Selu nodded, gathering the Force into a concentrated burst of telekinetic energy. Once he was satisfied that he had drawn on enough energy, he hurled it at another fixture holding the crystals. They shattered satisfyingly even as Selu and Milya ran to a pair of planters and began hacking them down. A cloud of the shards from the crystal that Selu had shattered suddenly came flying at Milya. Unfazed, Milya whirled her saberstaff with both blades ignited to shield herself from the debris.

However, what she didn’t anticipate was Ariada lashing out from behind the flying shards. Milya leapt back to avoid a shoto thrust that would have skewered her through the skull, but the other shoto cleanly split her saberstaff in two, destroying her weapon. It exploded with a flash, sending Milya to the ground. Selu interposed himself in between Milya and Ariada, hurling a blast of telekinesis at their attacker to defend his wife.

Ariada shrugged it off, rematerializing to slash at him. This time, she seemed intent on a prolonged duel. Selu matched her blades against his, dual blades against dual blades, green against dark blue. Ariada had gotten faster, her bladework more skilled, or maybe he was just slower. Selu drew on the power of the Force, sinking deeply into his native combat style, Ataru. Bouncing off one of the columns, he plunged down on her with both weapons ready. She deflected his first blow with the shoto, but the second forced her back a step as her shoto was nearly forced onto her own wrist.

Selu pursued her relentlessly, mindful of further traps and trickery. Ariada riposted suddenly, a quick slash that forced him to swivel aside as she stride inside his guard. The shoto passed centimeters from his chest as Ariada followed the strike through, stabbing backhanded at him as she passed. Selu just barely caught the blow on his own shoto, the lightsaber singing his side with a scorch mark. He gasped in pain. Ariada twisted away, disappearing.

“You’ve gotten old and slow, Master Kraen,” she told him triumphantly.

Selu responded by shattering another group of crystals with the Force. This time, he anticipated that Ariada would telekinetically hurl the razor-edged fragments at him. His lightsabers left fans of green light in their wake as they whipped through a circular defensive pattern. Ariada struck from behind him out from her Force camouflage, but Selu was beginning to detect traces of her now and crossed his lightsabers behind his head to avert the stroke. She kicked out, catching him in the kidney and staggering forward.

“How kind of you to leave your wife unguarded,” Ariada hissed menacingly.

Selu’s eyes shot wide with concern. Whirling around, he was just barely able to sense Ariada closing in on Milya. Selu leapt forward headfirst, his lightsaber slashing up to intercept her downward thrust at Milya. He managed to catch both of Ariada’s shotos on his long green lightsaber and desperately jabbed his shoto across his body in an attempt to stab at Ariada. He felt the slight pull of resistance as his shorter blade hit flesh and then Ariada was gone, disappeared into the shadows again. However, Selu could sense her pain in the Force, could smell the burnt flesh. He had wounded her, though he could not tell how severely.

Out from the shadows, she attacked again with implacable viciousness, but this time, not with lightsaber. The serpentine shapes poured forth from her hands to plunge into Selu just as he pivoted to meet the attack. Selu gasped as he felt the intense pressure around his heart, squeezing, and tried to throw up a Force barrier and expel the evil from his body, but Ariada was calling upon her pain and all of the hidden dark side power stored in her sanctum. The natural affinity of the dark side to inflict pain empowered the technique further, sapping his strength. Selu’s eyes bulged as she slowly overwhelmed his defenses. Ariada materialized in front of him, her face twisted in a cruel, malevolent leer. Selu saw that the right side of her head was scorched, her ear mostly burned away, and knew that was where he had struck. However, it was a glancing wound, and hadn’t seemed to diminish her strength, fueling her wrath instead. Dark side power flowed from her to entangle him, sinking into his body and overpowering his Force defenses.

“You’re weak,” she spat contemptuously at him.

Selu writhed, trying to muster the strength to either resist her technique, or to counter-attack and break her concentration, but to no avail. His unfamiliarity with the assault as well as its suddenness made defending against it all the more difficult.

“Milya, help!” he wheezed.

From her prone position on the floor, Milya suddenly flipped her vibroblade at Ariada. The Wroonian twisted away from it, but Milya corrected its flight with the Force and it slashed across her left arm, a glancing blow. Her concentration disrupted, Ariada leaped away, vanishing, as Milya rose from the floor, calling the vibroblade back to her hand. Selu gasped for breath and Milya moved to his side. She laid a hand on his chest while staying alert for an attack, and was relieved to find his heart still beating, albeit weaker.

Milya spun around as Ariada leapt at them both screeching, shotos brandished for a lethal stab. Milya kicked out, clipping Ariada in the jaw and knocking her back before she could attack. Ariada fell back and Milya pursued. Instinctively, the Wroonian crossed her shotos across her body to defend, and Milya pounced. Her vibroblade’s edge caught one of the lightsabers two centimeters below the blade, shattering the blade in a white-hot burst of light. Ariada threw up a hand and suddenly, out of a concealed chamber, a third shoto came flying out from stealth to impale Milya from behind. The Elite Guardian backflipped over it, but Ariada guided its flight, clipping Milya’s ankle and ruining her landing. The shoto flew back into her hand to replace the ruined one, though Ariada’s hand and wrist had been badly burned by the first shoto’s destruction. Milya slammed down on her back, clutching at her ankle, as her Achilles tendon had been cut and the lightsaber had sliced her to the bone.

Ariada snarled and started forward, twirling the shoto in her right hand to plunge down into Milya. Before she could, though, Selu unleashed a massive blast of telekinesis, slamming Ariada back into one of the steel columns. With a loud cry, he leapt at her with his lightsaber and shoto, intent on skewering her. Instead, she rolled aside and concealed herself, leaving Selu to instead bore two molten holes through the column. Milya rolled aside, still clutching her ankle, as Selu braced himself for further confrontation, moving defensively toward Milya.

He could sense Ariada’s fear, anger, and pain. Both sides had taken considerable punishment, and he knew that Ariada was not a strong combatant, despite her improvement in that area. If he could force her to duel him, she would lose. They both knew, so instead, she stayed in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity. Milya pulled herself to a sitting position against one of the walls, pistol in hand. Selu looked both directions, waiting for Ariada to reveal herself. She had managed to hide from his senses once more.

Milya’s lip twisted and she pulled the trigger on her pistol eight times, nearly depleting the magazine. Selu was surprised; she had closed herself off from the Force as she fired and hadn’t hit any of the crystals. There was a loud cry and Ariada materialized, clutching at two holes that had been punched through her thigh and hip. Blood spilled from both wounds and her anger and pain and desperation poured through her inarticulate scream. Dark shadows began to emanate from the wound, but Selu didn’t give her a chance to fashion them into another attack. He hurled her telekinetically, straight into one of the protruding crystalline shards. It impaled through her other leg.

Ariada glared at him balefully even as she clutched at her wounds, feet kicking out as struggled to free herself.

“This isn’t the end,” she told Selu through gritted teeth. “Even if you kill me here, Coruscant and Bespin are still doomed!”

The shadows formed again, spiraling out of her hands to attack Selu and Milya. Their dark blue shapes flooded into them, pouring past their defenses. The anguish Ariada felt was reflected in their heads as she forced her pain into their skulls with the malevolent technique. The aching in Selu’s head felt like she was hammering a spike into his forehead and he collapsed to his knees.

“I have dark power beyond your comprehension, Master Kraen,” she told him. “You cannot defeat me. If you wound me, I shall steal your life as replacement.”

Then, reaching down, she pulled her afflicted leg off the blood-soaked crystalline shard while still conjuring her malefic power. Selu was at a loss for words—the power to drain the life from others was a rumored dark power that reportedly only the darkest of the fallen and the Sith had known. Had Ariada uncovered that hidden secret along with her technobeast virus?

She limped forward, passing the area where Milya had fallen after her saberstaff had been destroyed.

“Now,” she told him. “Your life is mine!”

However, she took one step too far. Her foot brushed against a nearly-transparent wire. A mine that Milya had planted on the wall directly behind Ariada and hidden with the Force detonated. The explosion was only two meters away and hurled Ariada forward. She groaned, her back smoldering and torn from the shrapnel and rolled over, her power and spirit broken.

Selu helped Milya up and staggered over to Ariada as she stared listlessly up at the ceiling.

“The visions. . .” she murmured with a slight smile. “They’re changing.”

Selu stood over Ariada with his lightsaber pointed down at her neck.

“How do you disarm the bombs?” he demanded.

Her eyes glittered with a trace of their old malevolence.

“I’m never helping you,” she said. “Kill me now and get it over with. Those people are as good as dead.”

A cold thought filled Selu and he was sorely tempted to stab forward and end her life. If she remained recalcitrant to the end, there was no use leaving her alive. Yet years of adherence to the Jedi Code instilled in him would not allow him to kill her. She had done great evil, but it was not for him to take her life at this point, and doing so in anger would only taint his own soul.

“No,” he said. “You won’t stain me with your dark legacy.”

Selu turned to Milya.

“How did you find her? To hit her with your pistol?”

“Blood,” Milya told him. “I sensed the droplets of blood she left behind on the floor from being sliced and then knew where she would be.”

“You did great,” Selu replied.

“We need to disarm these bombs,” Milya reminded him. “They only have ten minutes left.”

“Of course,” Selu agreed.

Leaving Ariada on the ground behind him, he turned to the consoles and began trying to tap into the systems. Milya did likewise, limping over to what appeared to be a communications link.

“I’m trying to override her security protocols,” Milya reported. “This terminal should let me send out the hypercomm signal to disarm the bombs.”

“Great,” Selu said. “This is the master console, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to access it in time.”

“Think fast,” Milya told him. “We don’t have much time.”

“I know,” he answered impatiently.

Selu’s fingers flew across the interface as he tried to tap into the master console. However, at every instance, the computer required a passcode. Selu had some familiarity with computers and slicing, but was far from an expert slicer, while computers and biology had been Ariada’s specialties.

He scowled and redoubled his efforts on a different console. Using a basic slicing technique, he was able to pull up a schematic of the bombs, a floating green holo. Selu studied the design intently, hoping to find a weakness or disarmament method.

“I have a diagram of the bombs,” he called to Milya. “There’s no way to stop the timer once it starts.”

“That’s bad,” she said.

“But there is a self-destruct,” Selu told her. “A plasma charge attached to each one. Even the bomb on Bespin will only fizzle if the plasma bomb ignites prematurely.”

“Likely Ariada didn’t want anyone getting their hands on her designs,” Milya said. “Can you access it remotely?”

“If I knew her passcode,” Selu answered, scowling.

“Maybe you don’t have to,” Milya suddenly realized.

“What?”

Milya pulled out her comlink.

“Ryion, come in,” she said.

“Here, Mom,” he replied a second later.

“What was Ariada’s old passcode?” Milya asked.

Ryion, like his father and uncle, had a near-holographic memory. Even years later, he could recall facts and events with incredible clarity.

“471-Thesh-Isk-Senth-Isk-Senth-Nern-Osk-Trill-Thesh-Esk-Esk-Nern-Dorn,” he told them. “The first letter of each line of the 471st poem in an old Wroonian proverb book. It was her favorite. It talks about resilience and perseverance in the face of trying odds, even alone.”

Selu tried it, inputting the code Ryion had given him. To his elation, it worked. The computer beeped twice, granting him access.

“I’m in!” he shouted. “I have remote access.”

“I can override the communications protocol briefly,” Milya answered from the communications terminal. “But I have to time it just right—it’ll only let me run in bypass mode for a few seconds. I have to send the transmission right as you input the command.”

Selu checked his chrono.

“It’ll be close, but we’ll make it,” he said. “Two minutes left, and the transmission will take a few seconds.”

Ariada hissed from the floor where she lay.

“Very clever,” she admitted furiously. “Using my own nature and my past against me.”

“You did that yourself,” Selu answered, not bothering to turn around and address her directly, knowing that time was of the essence.

“There’s something else you should know,” she told him. “The command to activate the plasma bombs—there’s one more plasma bomb.”

“Where?” Selu said as he froze, just before sending the command.

“Right under this room,” she told him with a wicked sense of triumph. “Disarm those bombs, and you doom yourself.”

“Do we have time to disarm the bomb here separately?” Selu asked Milya.

She shook her head.

“Even if we cut through the floor, I’d need a couple minutes to dig it apart, and we don’t have that kind of time.”

Ariada cackled gloatingly, but was cut short but a sudden coughing fit. Selu’s face was grim as he realized the gravity of the situation.

“Well, I guess there’s really only one choice,” he said slowly. “You get back to the Hawk-bat. I’ll send the command.”

“I’m not leaving,” Milya told him flatly. “I know how to transmit the message, and with my ankle, I won’t make it anyway. You go.”

“No,” Selu replied. “I can do this, and you can get clear.”

“No, you can’t!” he heard a scream from behind. “You are all going to DIE!”

Selu had just started to turn when the blast of Force lightning hit him from behind, engulfing him in painful tendrils of energy. Through his tormented agony, he could see that Ariada had risen from the deck, floating purely by the power of the dark side and was pouring the last vestiges of her strength into Force lightning, seeking to stop Selu and Milya from disarming her bombs. Selu thrashed and writhed, helpless in the grasp of the lightning, but somewhere, deep in his mind, he found clarity.

It was a clarity that he had known all his life, that came to him when something had to be done to save a life, no matter how dire the circumstances. It spoke to him and told him to act, regardless of his own wellbeing. It had allowed him to save his master and friend Skip on Ando when he was a Padawan. It had helped him rescue Spectre on Boz Pity in the Clone Wars. It had driven him to substitute himself as a prisoner for his brother Sarth to the Mistryl Shadow Guard decades earlier. It had spoken to him when he had chosen to face three Dark Jedi in the Battle of Yanibar to buy his people time for a desperate defense. And it spoke to him now, enabling him to think and act despite his own agony.

Selu found the strength to counter her lightning with his own Electric Judgment. By virtue of his superior training and conditioning and experience and mastery of the Force and sheer willpower, he fired back. His green bolts met her vicious purple ones, colliding in a flashpoint that sent tendrils sparking into the support columns, crystals, and ceiling. The lightning receded from Selu’s and Milya’s bodies as he poured forth power into the jagged bolts of energy, pushing Ariada’s stream back. She screamed in fury and agony as suddenly, Selu’s stream of Electric Judgment surged through her own Force lightning, carrying both its own energy and hers into her body. Ariada let out an inhuman cry as she was hurled back by the sheer intensity of the current, flying across the room, through the open door and into the maintenance shaft, where she tumbled out of sight. Selu and Milya felt her as she plunged down the shaft, cut by the torn rungs and battered with each collision. The final impact sundered her life from her body and a burst of dark side energy washed out from the shaft as she passed.

Selu breathed heavily, struggling to keep his body from twitching. He was wounded and exhausted. Were it not for the Force and his own clarity, he would have long since collapsed as his strength ebbed.

“She’s gone,” Milya said.

“That was how it had to be,” Selu replied as he wheezed for breath and staggered over to the console. “Now go, Milya.”

“I won’t leave you,” she said simply. “I promised you that fifty years ago.”

“We don’t have time to argue,” he insisted as he entered the command to disarm the bombs. “You have to live.”

Spots swam before his eyes and he nearly collapsed against the console, leaning heavily on it for support until he could see normally again.

“Look at you,” she told him, even though she felt her own strength nearly depleted as she was hunched on the communications console. “You can barely stand, much less stagger over here to send the transmission in time.”

“Just. . . getting old,” he managed. “I can do it.”

“Selu,” she said. “We’ll do it together. Do not deny me this.”

Selu looked up from the console over to his wife and saw the resolute look in her eyes.

“Our son,” he pleaded. “Our daughter.”

“We’ll see them again,” Milya assured him. “They will mourn, they will heal, and they will understand. This is how it has to be.”

Selu glanced at the comlink, knowing that he didn’t have time to argue and didn’t have the strength to compel her. He had to disarm the bombs and the transmission had to be sent, or millions would die. The clarity in his mind told him beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was true. Selu had borne the responsibility for millions of deaths once—he could not do it again.

“All right,” he whispered. “We’ll do it together. Inputting final commands.

Milya pulled out her comlink.

“Ryion?” she called.

“We’re here, Mom!” Ryion said. “All on the Hawk-bat and waiting for you. We felt Ariada die.”

“Listen, Ryion,” Milya told him firmly. “I want you to take the ship and leave.”

“What?!” Ryion replied, aghast. “What about you?”

“Ryion, listen to me!” Milya insisted. “Go. Your father and I, we love you very much. We’re glad you’re safe and we’re very proud of the man you’ve become.”

“Tell the others,” Selu croaked from across the room. “Tell the family that we love them. Most of all. . .”

“Tell your sister,” Milya finished. “Tell her what we did, and that we love her.”

“Mom, no!” Ryion shouted. “I’m coming up there. We’re getting you out of there.”

“There’s no time, and this isn’t your destiny, Ryion,” Selu answered his son heavily. “This is our choice. Now, leave before this ship falls apart.”

“But—,” Ryion tried to argue.

“Ryion!” Selu thundered. “Do not disobey my last order to you. As your father and as your commanding officer, take the ship and go!”

“Come on,” he heard Jaina Solo’s voice interject in the background. “You heard him.”

Ryion’s voice was laced with bitterness and reluctance.

“I love you, Mom, Dad,” he said.

“So do we,” Selu told him. “May the Force be with you. Always.”

“They’ve leaving,” Milya said. “I can sense it.”

Selu nodded with satisfaction, his eyes closed.

“I’m ready,” he told Milya.

“So am I,” she said.

“Let’s finish this then.”

“Together?”

Selu smiled, a tear running down one cheek.

“Together.”

He entered the disarm command just as Milya input her bypass, overriding its security.

“Transmission is sending,” she reported. “It sent!”

“Plasma bombs are arming,” Selu said, reading the status on the console.

The ship shuddered and he lurched over to Milya, holding her in his arms even as the final seconds ticked down. Though age had taken its toll on her and the grueling combat with Ariada had left its mark, she was as beautiful to him as she had been sixty years earlier, in a chance and tense encounter inside the Hawk-bat on New Holstice. He smiled at her, stroking her cheek, and she smiled back.

“It’s been a good journey, Milya Kraen,” he told her.

“Yes, it has,” she agreed.

“Shall we?” he asked.

“Together,” she breathed.

She leaned forward to kiss him, her lips brushing against his. Selu tasted the light sweetness of her kiss. He savored that second of affection, feeling her mind join with his one last time, and knew that they were of one mind, bound closely together as if they shared the same thoughts. Though their eyes were closed, he could see her in his mind’s eye, could share her thoughts and know her like he knew himself. In that moment of perfect clarity and peace, their choice was clear. They had no regrets, even if the time for them had been afforded. Selu and Milya sensed the sudden arrival of new Force presences in the vicinity, but they no longer cared. Fully focused on each other, they made one final decision. Together.

The plasma bomb detonated, engulfing the sanctum in a burning fireball that melted the floor and seared everything inside the room before bursting through the viewport, exposing it to space. However, Selu and Milya were no longer there. Unified by the Force, they accepted that their time had come to an end. Fully at peace with their decision, they had surrendered their bodies to the Force, dematerializing an instant before the explosion could consume them. Just as they departed, Selu sent one last thought to his son and every other Force-sensitive nearby.

It is finished.

25
A dozen ships reverted from hyperspace into the Mustafar system. The largest was the Galactic Alliance carrier Trucemaker, but in the lead shot the acclaimed “fastest piece of junk in the galaxy,” the Millennium Falcon. Accompanying them was an assortment of Galactic Alliance warships and the Daara’sherum. The combined flotilla surged through the system at maximum speed just as the Knightfall entered Mustafar’s atmosphere. The ship was already trailing smoke from damage to its apex, where a bomb had detonated as well as its engine, but impact with the superheated atmosphere of Mustafar without the protection of shields only hastened its demise. The black ship began breaking up as the atmosphere burned away at its surface. Fiery streaks began to emanate from fissures in its hull, rapidly spreading the conflagration and consuming the ship. Ten seconds later, large chunks of it broke off as the ship rode a trail of fire and smoke before finally slamming into Mustafar’s hellish surface at supersonic speeds. The resulting explosion threw up gouts of fire and ash far into the sky and soon lava from a nearby river began spilling into the ruins of the ship before its reactor overheated and detonated in a resounding blast that hurled debris for kilometers along with a two-hundred meter fireball. The detritus burned, sending columns of smoke rising from the tormented terrain.

Ryion dispassionately watched the ships arrive and the Knightfall crash from one of the rearward lounge windows of the crowded Hawk-bat. He didn’t care. His mind was still in shock, trying to fathom that his parents were dead. They had always been a constant in his life, and their absence, though rationally something he could comprehend, had never factored into much of his thinking. He stared out of the viewport listlessly.

The others in the crowded ship had either been too busy or else knew better than to approach him. He hadn’t spoken since he had been on the bridge, talking to his parents for the last time. After they had gone to their. . . choice—he couldn’t bring himself to say deaths, even in his mind—he had come back here to watch. Qedai had busied herself with flying the ship, while Jaina had immediately commandeered the communications system to talk with the new arrivals. Ryion desperately wished he could talk with Shara, but she was in the cargo hold being treated by the medics, and with her injured throat, likely wouldn’t be able to talk. So he stood alone, a deep ache lodged in his chest, a scowl on his face, and struggled to make sense of what had just transpired.

“Hey,” a voice called out to him.

Ryion turned fractionally to see Jaina Solo standing beside him. He gave no reply—there was nothing to say. Jaina’s gaze followed his as he stared down at the dark stain on Mustafar’s surface, all that remained of Ariada’s vaunted Knightfall.

“They made the only choice,” she told him finally after a minute of tense silence.

Ryion’s eyes narrowed as he gave her a sidelong glance.

“They wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for a greater purpose,” Jaina continued. “They had too much to live for. You. Your people. This new world you’re going to.”

His jaw and fist tightened as she spoke. Ryion felt anger rise within him, though he couldn’t tell whether it was at her for daring to tell him that it was okay his parents were dead, or at himself for not being able to do anything about their deaths. He kept his mouth shut, knowing that any words he had to say would likely regret latter.

“Look, I can’t pretend to know how you feel right now,” Jaina told him. “My parents are flying over to meet us right now. I’ve lost a brother before and that nearly drove me to the dark side. All I’m saying is, don’t make the same mistakes I did. Anakin made the choices he did for a reason. So did your parents. They were the right choices, and there was nothing you could have done to avert what happened.”

Ryion’s head snapped around.

“The hell there wasn’t!” he said. “I could have gone up there, figured something out.”

“We barely got off that ship alive,” Jaina reminded him. “We undocked shortly before it started burning up and falling to pieces. There were maybe twenty seconds between when they told us to leave and when the top blew off the ship. You never would have made it, Ryion.”

“I could have gone sooner,” he argued. “After I saved Shara.”

“You did what you were supposed to do,” Jaina reminded him. “Just like they did.”

Ryion balled up a fist and glared at her.

“You do not get to tell me that,” he stated firmly. “You do not get to tell me that I should have left them to die.”

“No,” Jaina admitted frankly. “Only you can do that.”

He stared at her angrily for a second, then realized what a fool he was being. Closing his eyes, he unclenched his fist and exhaled heavily, fighting back a sob. Deep down, his rational mind told him that she was right, but the wound was still too raw for him to accept that. Jaina put her arms around him.

“I’m sorry it happened this way,” Jaina told him. “I didn’t know your parents well, but they were good people. That’s why they did what they did.”

Ryion accepted the embrace.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

“Someone had to tell you,” she replied. “The others didn’t seem eager to do it, so it fell to me.”

“I needed to hear it,” he answered. “One day, I might even understand.”

They parted as the Hawk-bat entered the Daara’sherum’s cavernous hangar and set down. The Millennium Falcon landed adjacent to them. Ryion slowly collected his thoughts, realizing abruptly that he was the ranking member of the Elite Guardians, which placed him in command of the entire Yanibar Guard expedition since it had been an Elite Guardian-sanctioned mission to stop Ariada, not the main Yanibar Guard. The heavy burden of that responsibility weighed heavily on him, adding to the ponderous grief he was still coming to terms with.

He descended the ramp leading out of the Hawk-bat’s boarding hatch, followed by Qedai, Jaina, Kyle, Tyria, Shara, and the commandos. Across from them, the rest of the Skywalkers and Solos were emerging from the Millennium Falcon under observation from a squad of Yanibar Guardsmen.

“Jaina!” Leia shouted as soon as she caught sight of her daughter, running over to throw her arms around her.

The Jedi Knight met her mother’s embrace and the rest of her family clustered around her. Something caught in Ryion’s throat as watched the affectionate reunion and he turned away. It was too painful of a sight at the moment, an experience he would never be able to relive. He knew he should be keeping himself closed off in the Force, but despite his best efforts, hints of his sorrow leaked through the mask of tight control he was exercising. That was the only way he could remain functional—by being as tightly controlled as possible.

“I’m very sorry,” Luke Skywalker said as he approached Ryion.

“Me too,” Ryion answered hoarsely.

“Your father was a good man and a great Jedi,” Luke continued. “He gave his life to save others. We received reports of localized, controlled detonations on Coruscant and Bespin. Minimal casualties—they did it.” Anger built within Ryion; he didn’t want to hear the Jedi’s condolences. Or anyone’s, because it meant acknowledging that his parents were gone. He was hurting and even the knowledge that his parents had ultimately succeeded brought him scant solace. However, he suppressed it—the Jedi Master was not intentionally aggravating him.

“I’m glad you were able to escape Ariada’s trap,” he said neutrally.

“We had help,” Luke admitted. “After two weeks of flying at sublights, I wasn’t sure if we were going to get out of that interdiction field.”

Ryion nodded.

“I can imagine,” he said. “Our people originally developed those mines; Ariada stole the design. I doubt she sold it, though. She wouldn’t do that with a weapon she planned on using.”

He fell silent.

“I know you’ve been through a lot,” Luke said sympathetically. “I’ll leave you to your own concerns.”

“Wait,” Ryion told him.

Reaching into his satchel, he brought out an item he had retrieved after Qedai had informed him that the Falcon would be joining them inside the Daara’sherum. It was a bronze-colored dodecahedral object made of a polished crystalline material.

“This is the Great Holocron,” Ryion said, “a repository of Jedi knowledge and lore gathered over thousands of years. My father saved it from the Jedi Temple fifty-eight years ago. He wanted to give it to you and the Jedi Order—so that you could it use it for good.”

Ryion offered it to Luke, who accepted it with awe.

“It seems we owe your people—and your parents—for more than just stopping Ariada,” Luke said. “This might have been lost forever. Thank you.”

“One day, our story may be fully uncovered and told,” Ryion answered. “But we did not preserve so many people, so much knowledge, to achieve greatness or recognition. We did it because it was our duty.”

“One that we’re only now beginning to recognize,” Luke replied, cradling the holocron.

Ryion bowed slightly as Luke walked back over to his family. He and the other Elite Guardians watched the happy reunion stoically. Tyria limped over to him, Kyle close behind.

“I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but your parents—they were good people. Now that I remember what happened, I remember them training me on Yanibar. I might have never become a Jedi Knight without their help. Your mother was one of the most impressive people I’ve ever known.”

“Thank you,” Ryion said quietly, unsure if he could say anything else without breaking down.

“That’s at least three times now you and your people have stepped in to avert catastrophe,” Kyle told him. “I’m just sorry it cost so much.”

“Me too,” Ryion agreed.

“Thank you for your assistance as well,” Qedai told the two Jedi. “We could not have done it without you.”

Kyle shrugged.

“It’s what we do,” he said simply.

The Jedi parted, Kyle helping Tyria limp off toward a waiting hover stretcher. Akleyn was escorting a second hover stretcher with an unconscious Novera on it from the Hawk-bat. Shara was following them, heading to the infirmary for further treatment while the other surviving assassin was restrained and moved as well.

“What will happen to her?” Qedai asked Ryion, referring to Novera.

“My understanding is that Mom offered her a new start if she helped us,” Ryion said. “She can either come with us to Yanibar, and then Atlaradis, or begin a new life in the galaxy on her own.”

“That’s good,” Qedai replied.

“Yes,” Ryion answered. “I just wish this next matter was going to be as simple to solve.”

The lump that had been growing in his throat doubled in size as he realized what he had to do next. It would be an enormous shock for her to hear, but he had to be the one to do it. After all the experiences they had shared, he wouldn’t have felt right if he wasn’t the one to explain it—particularly since he felt responsible.

He waited until the reunion’s enthusiasm had subsided, then knew it was his duty, his obligation. Walking over, he approached Jaina.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I have a word with Jaina alone?”

Han glared daggers at him.

“Listen pal, we just got her back,” he said.

“I know,” Ryion admitted. “And I wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t important.”

“Whatever you have to say to her, you can say here,” Han countered. “We’re her family.”

However, Leia sensed the concern in Ryion’s voice.

“Han,” she said simply, and the old smuggler backed off.

“It’s all right, Dad,” Jaina told him, rolling her eyes. “He’s already taken.”

“Good,” Han answered, keeping up his ‘tough dad’ persona.

Jaina allowed Ryion to lead her back into the Hawk-bat.

“All right,” she said. “What is this about?”

“There’s something you should know,” he told her slowly.

Now that the time had arrived for the revelation, he was suddenly reluctant to do it, knowing that he would replace the joy that Jaina had just experienced from reunited with her family with shock, hurt, and consternation. He would be dropping a proton torpedo on her psyche, and she might never recover. Yet it was his duty. Thinking of his parents, and how they had not wavered in the face of a terrible responsibility, he steeled up his courage.

“Sithspit, Ryion,” Jaina said, having sensed his turmoil. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“You should sit down,” he advised her.

Jaina frowned, confused, at him, but complied, sitting at one of the chairs in the crew lounge. Ryion took a chair opposite her across the table.

“What is it?” Jaina asked.

“Ariada didn’t want us both just for leverage over our respective peoples,” Ryion told her. “She had another purpose.”

“Yes?”

Ryion placed his hands on the table.

“Did you ever wonder why she treated you so well?” he asked.

“It was odd,” Jaina admitted. “Given that she wasn’t exactly the charitable type, and a hot meal wasn’t going to win me over to her side.”

“She wasn’t interested in you,” Ryion told her. “It was another’s wellbeing she was concerned about.”

“Who?” Jaina asked.

“The one inside you,” Ryion told her quietly.

Jaina’s eyes widened in horrified shock.

“That’s not true,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “That’s impossible.”

“I think we both know better,” he answered. “It gets worse.”

Jaina stared disbelievingly at him, wondering how it could get worse.

“I’m the father.”

Jaina placed her hand on her abdomen, sensing with the Force.

“Kriff,” she breathed. “It is true. And you—you went along with this?”

Incredulous betrayal was evident in her voice.

“No!” Ryion insisted immediately. “I had no idea until Ariada told me. She orchestrated all this without either of our knowledge, while we were unconscious. By the time she told me, it was already done.”

“Why?” Jaina gasped.

Ryion exhaled heavily.

“She said she was doing it to save the galaxy,” he told her. “She wanted to have a successor, one who could rise up to stop a great evil. Personally, I think she just wanted a Force-strong child to raise as her instrument—and she wanted both of our bloodlines to do it.”

Jaina’s face was clouded with anger and hurt and shock and a thousand other emotions elicited by Ryion’s sudden disclosure.

“I wanted you to know, before your family found out,” Ryion said. “So you could make your own decision.”

Jaina was struggling for words, struggling to grasp what had just happened to her. She stared at him in abject horror and he wondered if she would hit him.

“This is my fault,” he said heavily. “I got you involved with this. I brought you to Ariada’s ship. I arranged for us to be captured.”

Jaina reached out and slapped him across the face, a sudden blow that left his cheek stinging.

“Ryion Kraen, shut the kriff up,” she said. “Shut the kriff up.”

Ryion was shocked into silence by her sudden outburst.

“You don’t need to apologize to me for something you didn’t do,” Jaina told him, her voice brittle with emotion. “Just stop that. I volunteered to go with you. I agreed to your plan. And it led a rescue party right to us, so it kriffing worked. Don’t apologize for that.”

“But—,” Ryion started.

Jaina pointed a warning finger at him.

“I’m not done,” she said.

Ryion wisely shut up.

“Does your wife know?” she asked.

“No,” Ryion answered bluntly. “I’m going to tell her.”

“Kriff, Ryion,” she told him, the anger bleeding out of her voice. “What do I tell my parents?”

“That is up to you,” he said. “I’m sorry this happened to you—I never would anticipated Ariada would do something like this.”

“Well, it happened,” Jaina answered him matter-of-factly. “Now, I can sit here feeling violated and shocked and horrified, or we can move forward.”

“How?” Ryion asked.

“I don’t know,” Jaina admitted. “But we’ll find a way.”

“Maybe we should head down to the infirmary and see how far along it is,” Ryion said.

“Not a bad idea,” Jaina told him. “I don’t think I’m ready to tell my family yet.”

“You don’t have to,” Ryion said. “We’ll say that there was the possibility you were exposed to something on Ariada’s ship and need to be evaluated.”

Jaina nodded.

“That’ll do for now.”

They left the Hawk-bat.

“What’s wrong, Jaina?” Mara Jade Skywalker asked, having sensed the distress in her niece.

“We found out that Jaina may have been exposed to some. . . substances on Ariada’s ship,” Ryion told her. “Potentially harmful ones. We don’t want you to worry—but I’m taking Jaina down to the infirmary for evaluation.”

“Do you want me to come?” Leia asked instantly.

Jaina rolled her eyes and managed a smile for her mom.

“I’m a big girl, Mom,” she said. “I’ll be fine—Ryion just got me worried, that’s all.”

Having evaded that line of inquiry, the two of them headed down to the ship’s infirmary. Ryion signaled Jaina to wait at the entrance. He found Akleyn, who was advising one of the doctors on something, and beckoned him over.

“Yes?” Akleyn asked.

“So, have the doctors given you full run of this place yet?” Ryion inquired casually.

Akleyn shrugged.

“More or less,” he said. “The chief surgeon was a resident under me before joining the Yanibar Guard, so he more or less thinks I’m infallible.”

For once, Ryion didn’t reply with a glib remark.

“I need you to do something for me, Akleyn,” he said. “In utter secrecy.”

His cousin scowled at him.

“What illegal thing do you need done and how much are you going to try and bribe me with?”

“This is important, Akleyn,” he said seriously. “I need you to do this completely off the holos. No records.”

“What is it?” Akleyn asked.

“I need you to do a medical examination,” Ryion told him.

Akleyn frowned.

“That’s all? On you?”

“No,” Ryion said. “Jedi Solo.”

Akleyn gave him a skeptical look.

“She agreed to this, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re asking me to do this because?”

“It’s much more complicated,” Ryion advised him.

Akleyn nodded knowingly.

“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?” he said softly.

Ryion’s eyes widened in shock.

“How did you know?”

Akleyn smirked at him.

“First, I’m a brilliant doctor. Second, I’m a brilliant Force-sensitive doctor. Third, whenever a young man asks me to do a medical examination on a young woman off the records and says ‘it’s complicated,’ well, that usually means two things—that she’s carrying and it’s his.”

Akleyn shook his head.

“I’m disappointed in you, Ryion,” he said. “Shara will be devastated.”

“It’s not like that,” Ryion protested, trying to keep his voice down. “Neither of us had a choice in the matter. This was Ariada’s doing.”

Akleyn stared at him skeptically.

“You’re joking,” he said.

“No,” Ryion answered heatedly. “She. . . took advantage of us while we were unconscious in captivity. The child was created in a test tube and implanted into Jaina without our knowledge.”

“That’s twisted, even for Ariada,” Akleyn said, disgusted. “Why?”

“She wanted a Force-strong successor,” Ryion told him. “From both of our bloodlines.”

“That is twisted,” Akleyn acknowledged, sighing. “I think I see why you want this done quietly—guessing her family doesn’t know.”

“No,” Ryion admitted. “They don’t.”

Akleyn shook his head.

“You get into some kriffed-up stuff,” he said. “And you are going to tell Shara, right?”

“Of course,” Ryion replied, though he was dreading that conversation. “I’ll do it while you see to Jedi Solo.”

“You know, you really should call the mother of your child by her first name,” Akleyn joked.

Ryion glared vibroblades at him.

“Not funny, Akleyn,” he said. “Don’t you have a patient to see, quietly?”

Akleyn rolled his eyes.

“I get the hint,” he grumbled.

The doctor walked over to Jaina while Ryion headed over to see Shara. She was lying in a hospital bed with a bandage around her throat.

“Hey,” Ryion said as he approached, taking her hand in his.

“Ryion,” she whispered, barely able to speak. “I am very sorry about your parents.”

“Thank you,” he said thickly, the lump in his throat rising again. “How are you doing?”

“A little sore, but I’ll heal,” she told him. “You saved me.”

“Of course I did,” Ryion answered tenderly, stroking her cheek. “How could I do otherwise?”

She rested her forehead against his arm, clutching his hand tightly.

“I was so scared,” she said. “Scared of what might happen. To me. To you.”

“It’s all fine now,” Ryion assured her.

Her eyes searched his face, seeing some subtlety that Ryion was subconsciously conveying.

“No, it isn’t,” she realized. “You have something else to say. Something bad. What are you holding back?”

Ryion hesitated. He had wanted to break the news to her in a gentler fashion, to reinforce his concern and his love and his relief that she was safe first. But now she was calling him out.

“I am strong enough to hear it, Ryion,” she told him. “I already know that you are glad to see me safe.”

“I love you,” he said. “Nothing else can change that—but I also don’t want to hurt you.”

“Tell me honestly, Ryion,” she replied. “If we both agree that our love is undying, then you have nothing to fear.”

Ryion sighed, taking a seat by her bedside. And he told her.

Twenty minutes later, Ryion waited by the privacy curtain that Akleyn had pulled over the examination ward. Finally, Akleyn and Jaina emerged. Both of their facial expressions were grave, matching his own.

“Well?” Ryion asked.

“Jaina’s about ten weeks along,” Akleyn said in his best clinical I’m-a-doctor-and-I-have-bad-news-to-tell-you voice. “Ariada accelerated the early stages of fetal growth.”

He held up a datapad, showing Ryion a monochromatic image of a tiny embryo.

“Baby’s healthy,” Akleyn added. “No sign of any serious complications. So is the mother. It’s a boy. Congratulations.”

The last remark was delivered deadpan, without any sign of mirth. Jaina shook her head.

“This can’t be happening,” she said in utter disbelief. “Hearing you say it was one thing—but now seeing it is a whole different matter.”

“We might have a solution,” Ryion told her.

Jaina stared at him.

“Am I going to like this?”

“Possibly,” Ryion said.

He sat down on the bedside beside her.

“Well, I think this is my cue,” Akleyn said. “I’m a doctor, not a family counselor.”

“Wait,” Ryion told him, then turned back to Jaina. “It would not be fair of me to expect you to carry this child to term, much less raise him. My people are going to Atlaradis; you belong to the Jedi Order here.”

She nodded slowly.

“Nor can I simply abide to sacrifice this life,” Ryion said. “Whatever the circumstances of its conception, the child is innocent. He has done nothing wrong, and if the natural course of things was observed, would live a normal life. Ariada was born under similarly repulsive circumstances, but she was able to find a loving and accepting community.”

Jaina winced.

“Perhaps not the best example,” she answered.

“Ariada’s fall was her own choice,” Ryion replied. “The manner in which she was conceived and born did not lead her there.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Jaina asked.

Ryion turned to Akleyn.

“You and Qedai—you’ve both thought about adopting, haven’t you?” he said.

“That’s not really a secret,” Akleyn replied. “We were just waiting until we settled on Atlaradis. Wait, you’re not suggesting—,”

“I am,” Ryion answered. “I know both of you would make great parents.”

“There are some major problems here,” Akleyn told him. “For one, I’ll have to talk to Qedai about this. Two, Yanibar doesn’t have another seven months. The route to Atlaradis will be closed by then. Not to mention, Jaina will have to lie low or else face some very awkward questions as to why she came back from a mission with you carrying your child.”

“Not exactly,” Ryion answered. “What if someone else volunteered to carry the child the rest of the way to term?”

“Funny,” Akleyn said. “But you’re not exactly equipped for the task and not to get into too much biology, Qedai, even if she agreed to this insane idea, also wouldn’t be able to carry a fully human child.”

Ryion gave no answer, instead beckoning Shara forward. She walked forward resolutely. Her face was streaked with tears and she seemed deeply troubled, but did not hesitate.

“I will carry him,” she said. “I will give him the chance for a life he deserves.”

Jaina gaped.

“You would do that, even though. . .”

“As Ryion has said, neither you nor he had any choice in the matter,” Shara said. “I will be at peace with that. The choice I can make now is to preserve another life, and I am willing to do so.”

“What do you think?” Ryion asked Jaina. “I know this is a lot to take in at once, but this is your decision. We can give this child a chance at life—and you can return to the life you had before, if that’s what you want.”

Jaina shook her head.

“I’m not ready to be a mother,” she said, a tear streaking down her face. “Not this way. I didn’t know how to handle the situation—but then I saw his face and I knew I had to find some chance to give him. This just might be it.”

“If Akleyn and Qedai aren’t willing to raise the child, we will,” Shara told her. “Ryion and I discussed this.”

“I’ll talk it over with her,” Akleyn said. “Whatever the case, we can perform the surgery as soon as you’re ready.”

He left. Jaina took Ryion’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said, turning to Shara. “Thank you both, for finding a way. I think this is the best choice for everyone.”

“We agree,” Shara told her.

“And Ryion, one more thing,” Jaina said. “Tyria said your people had a way of erasing memories selectively.”

“That’s right,” Ryion answered.

She shook her head.

“I don’t want to remember this part,” she told him. “I don’t want to think about the child I gave up twenty years later. I don’t want any regrets or second guesses.”

“You won’t have any,” Ryion said. “I promise.”

An hour later, they both went into surgery. Akleyn and a team of trusted attendants who would have their memories altered after the procedure took care of it while Ryion stood outside the infirmary, waiting. The Solos and Skywalkers filed in, accompanied by Kyle and Qedai.

“What’s going on?” Mara asked him. “Where’s Jaina?”

“She’s in surgery,” Ryion told them. “The doctors found that Ariada had implanted something inside her, and they wanted to remove it in case there was any danger. Akleyn assures me she’ll be fine.”

“What kind of something?” Han demanded.

Ryion shrugged.

“Couldn’t exactly say,” he said. “I’m not a doctor.”

He turned back to stare at the opaque wall, waiting patiently. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Qedai shoot him a knowing glance and he nodded fractionally. Once the surgery was done, none of the Skywalkers or Solos would ever know the truth—they did not need to know, nor would it help them to know. The child that Ariada had intended for evil would be raised for good. This was the best choice for everyone.

26
Zeyn brought over the three trays of food from the cafeteria over to the table where Danni Quee was waiting. She looked tired from the prolonged shifts, but smiled as he approached. “So, how is my favorite scientist?” he asked as he set the trays down on the table.

“Hungry,” she said.

“And the evacuation?” he asked in a lower tone.

“It’s going well,” she said. “The ships will be ready to launch in two weeks. Our. . . allies have kept their word. The final calibrations are underway now; I’ll check them when I return.”

“By the Force,” Zeyn swore. “We’re going to make it.”

A smile creased across her face.

“Yes, we are,” she said. “You made that possible.”

“No,” he countered. “We made that possible.”

Danni frowned even as Zeyn began unwrapping one of the sandwiches he had brought.

“Zeyn, you brought three trays,” she noticed.

“Did I?” he asked, as if realizing it for the first time.

“Are you particularly hungry, or are we expecting someone else?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, we are,” Zeyn told her.

He beckoned across the room as an older woman crossed toward them. She was in her sixties, but looked ten years older. Her face was lined with wrinkles and crow’s feet were evident around her eyes. She was dressed in somber gray, her hair tied up in a functional bun. Her pace slowed as she approached the table.

“Hello, Mom,” he said simply as he rose to greet her.

“Hello, Zeyn,” she addressed him guardedly. “This is a surprise.”

“I know,” he answered.

Stepping forward, he embraced her suddenly.

“I’ve missed you,” he said with a tenderness that was all but unknown in his speech.

To his joy, she embraced him back.

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispered in his ear.

When they finally released, Zeyn turned to Danni.

“Mom, this is Danni. She’s a scientist; she’s. . . new here. Danni, this is my mother.”

Danni offered her hand, and Ana took it in a firm, quick handshake.

“Danni Quee,” the scientist told her.

“Ana.”

“Please, join us,” Zeyn told his mother.

She sat down at the table with them, her eyes darting back and forth from Zeyn to Danni uncertainly. This was an unfamiliar situation for her. Ana and Zeyn had not spoken for years, but suddenly, it seemed her son had finally relinquished the bitterness he had harbored against her for years. Seeing that Zeyn was genuinely trying to make amends, she decided to make the most of it, turning to Zeyn.

“So,” she asked. “How did you two meet?”

Zeyn grinned.

“Now that is a long story.”

“Do you have time to tell it?” Ana asked, worried that he was going to keep her at arm’s length.

To her relief, Zeyn nodded.

“I’d love to,” he said. “It all started what seems like a long time ago, on a planet far, far away. . .”


 * Two weeks later

The Hawk-bat swooped down through the stormy Yanibar sky that was bustling with other craft despite the inclement weather. The final preparations for the evacuation were at hand, even as conditions on the stricken planet continued to deteriorate. Ryion was at the pilot’s seat once coveted by his father. Somehow, it felt right for him to be flying it. Shara, Qedai, and Akleyn occupied the other seats in the bridge, saying very little as they came in to land. Ryion suspected that they were just glad to be home, a sentiment he shared.

Much had changed here since last he had set foot on his homeworld. The large domed crowns of evacuation ships were now being loaded with people and cargo as Yanibar’s inhabitants prepared to leave. The Council’s membership had completely changed, and now his Aunt Cassi was in charge. Finally, Ryion too had been informed of another shocking realization while on the Daara’sherum: with the deaths of his parents and Morgedh, he was the ranking member of the Elite Guardians and second only to Admiral Cyrreso in the hierarchy of the entire Yanibar Guard. That much authority being bestowed on him had been quite a surprise, and he hadn’t figured out what to do with it yet.

“Coming in for a landing,” he said, bringing the ship down to his family’s private hangar.

Ryion deftly set the aged light freighter down inside the hangar which his family had carved out of a natural cave and upgraded. Durasteel buttresses kept the roof from collapsing due to the tremors. Once the ship was landed, he shut down the engines and main power and lowered the boarding ramp.

They descended to find Sarth, Cassi, Rhiannon, Zeyn, and Tavin waiting for them, all dressed in somber dark garments with expressions to match. As soon as Ryion emerged from the ship, Sarth and Cassi both ran to him and hugged him.

“I’m so sorry about Selu and Milya,” Cassi told him.

Ryion nodded and said nothing, just accepting their warm embrace.

“They died as heroes,” he said simply.

“And that’s how we’ll remember them,” Sarth agreed.

They released him and he walked over to Rhiannon, wrapping his arms around her protectively.

“How are you doing, Rhi?” he asked her.

“Like a part of me is gone,” she admitted frankly. “I still can’t believe they’re gone. I’ve cried a lot.”

“I know,” Ryion told her, holding her tightly. “It’s been hard for all of us.”

“Ryion. . . I don’t think I can come to Atlaradis,” she said. “Not without Mom and Dad. It’d be too painful to have that reminder every day.”

He nodded.

“Kavlis needs you,” he said. “So does the rest of your family. You should be with them—you’ll be happier that way.”

“But I’ll miss all of you,” she replied sorrowfully, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Rhiannon, you don’t deserve this,” Ryion said. “Losing your parents and leaving your family at the same time. But I know you can do this. You’re a Kraen, and that same little voice inside you that drove Mom and Dad to make the right choices is telling you that you belong with your family.”

He squeezed her arm gently.

“We will all miss you,” he said. “But we also want what’s best for you.”

She straightened and sniffled.

“Thanks,” she said. “I needed to hear that.”

“Probably not the first time you’ve heard it,” Ryion pointed out.

“No, Mom and Dad and Sarth and Cassi and Jasika and Bryndar have been saying it too,” Rhiannon admitted. “But I needed to hear it from you, now.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said. “The Yanibar Guard is planning a memorial service for Mom and Dad on the Lightbearer since the Hall of Remembrance has already been evacuated. Will you come?”

“Of course,” she said. “We all will.”

“Good,” he replied. “Mom and Dad would have liked that.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your parents, sir,” Tavin told him.

“Thank you,” Ryion answered. “And I’m not a ‘sir.’ You’re a man now—call me Ryion.”

“Certainly.”

Ryion turned back to Sarth and Cassi.

“How goes the evacuation?” he asked them.

“It’s underway,” Sarth answered. “We won’t be launching at full capacity, but the Galactic Alliance and their freelance contractor friends have offered to help us transport much of our people and cargo into orbit until we can transfer them onto our ships. We owe them.”

Ryion nodded. Master Skywalker had made the offer on the ship after Ryion had explained their evacuation efforts in greater detail. Dozens of ships had joined up with them, volunteering their time and effort to help evacuate Yanibar. Some of them were Galactic Alliance warships under Commodore Darklighter, sent by a grateful Chief Cal Omas. Some were ships belonging to Tendrando Arms. Some were old friends and contacts come to render one final service to Yanibar. All were here to help Yanibar’s people in the final stages of their exodus.

“You can thank Master Skywalker at the memorial service,” he said.

“This truly has been inspiring,” Cassi told him. “So many people coming together, first to stop Ariada, and now to help our people to Atlaradis.”

“Mom and Dad would have been very proud of all this,” Ryion agreed.

“And of you,” Sarth stressed. “They would have been extremely proud of you.”

Ryion gathered Rhiannon to his side.

“Of all of us,” he said. “This is their legacy. Cooperation between our people and the galaxy, and their deliverance to a lasting home.”


 * In orbit

Danni Quee entered the fleshy corridor of the Yuuzhan Vong ship. Niull Shac had summoned her here after she had completed the final checks of the dovin basals that would help lift the evacuation ships into orbit. The Yuuzhan Vong warrior had given her little reason for the summons, so she felt some trepidation about the encounter, her pulse quickening slightly.

“Good, you are here,” he called, emerging from the shadows.

“Why did you ask me here?” she asked.

“To see this,” he said.

Pulling aside a living curtain, he revealed the body of Tisran Shac sprawled out on the floor, his neck clearly broken. Danni stifled a gasp at the sight of the corpse.

“Why?” she asked.

“He was insistent,” Niull Shac answered. “He was trying to poison others with his words, with his talk of revenge. I could not tolerate his insubordination, nor risk him countermanding the purpose I came here to accomplish. He was my family—and I shall bear the weight of taking his life—but he was also dangerous. And for that, he had to be stopped.”

He regarded her evenly.

“I show you this to demonstrate my commitment to the agreement we made,” he said. “To peace. Your people will reach orbit, and their destination, just as we agreed. We will honor the accord.”

Danni nodded.

“Thank you,” she said.

“We will not meet again, Danni Quee,” Niull Shav advised her. “Our vessel will depart once the evacuation ships have reached orbit and we recover our dovin basals from the pods where they are fitted. But I will carry the tale of your courage and your determination back to Zonama Sekot. This has been a most rewarding partnership.”

Then he bowed and disappeared into the shadows whence he had come.


 * One day later

Sarth looked over the gathered assembly from the podium that had been erected at the head of the hangar. They were inside the Lightbearer, the mammoth flagship of the Yanibar Guard, the only vessel of its class and the only one large enough to hold this many individuals at once. There were enough people that the enormous hangar, normally bustling with maintenance crew, pilots, and technicians, had been repurposed as an auditorium. Selu and Milya would have detested all the pomp and circumstance, but Sarth had chosen to disregard the wishes for a small ceremony only that they had left in their will, feeling it was more fitting for everyone they had left behind to at least acknowledge their passing. Their family would congregate separately once the full honor was done to the fallen.

Over three hundred people were seated in front of him, placed in two sections separated by a central aisle. On the front row, he saw Cassi by Akleyn, Qedai, Zeyn, Ana, and Danni. Ryion and Shara were next, along with Jasika, Bryndar, Rhiannon, and all of her family. Opposite them on the other side sat the visiting dignitaries. The Skywalkers and Solos were there except for Jacen and Ben, who had left to escort the other surviving assassin to a secure facility, as well as Commodore Darklighter, Derek Klivian, Garik Loran, and Lando Calrissian. Kyle and Tyria occupied the remainder of the front row. The rest of the seats were filled with leaders and military officers from Yanibar—including Admiral Cyrreso, the acting head of the Yanibar Guard, as well as dozens of friends that Selu and Milya had made over the years. Novera, discreetly clad in civilian attire, had a seat in the back.

Yet now, standing as he was with a giant banner of the Yanibar Guard and an empty pyre behind him and a small holo by the podium showing a bust of Selu and Milya, it fell to him to eulogize them both as the final address to the assemblage. This was not how he wanted it—it should have been held in the Hall of Remembrance, where all of Yanibar’s past heroes had been memorialized. Sarth had never wanted to think about the possibility of mourning his brother or his sister-in-law at all, had refused to even contemplate it. But here he was, and he knew what he had to do, for all their sakes. Surveying the crowd, he saw that virtually every eye was fixed on him. It was time.

“Today, we mark the passing of two of Yanibar’s greatest,” he said. “Selu and Milya Kraen. They were different things to each of us. They were a family, friend, superior officer, guardian, diplomat, ally, and leader and so our experiences with them were all different, but this one thing I know—whatever role they took, they filled it to the best of their abilities.

Selu and Milya helped found this refuge, preserving the practice and knowledge of the light side of the Force in one of the darkest times this galaxy has ever known. Selu fled from the broken ruins of the Jedi Temple; Milya from a broken and ruined society that cast her out. Together, they helped unite us even as their fates intertwined. Together, they fought tirelessly to protect and prosper this refuge, guarding its sanctity from all foes. So perhaps, it is fitting that they fell together, defending not just this refuge, but the entire galaxy, from an evil that threatened to devastate millions.”

Sarth paused, gathering his thoughts.

“Selu and Milya were two of the most dedicated people I have ever known. They were dedicated to their principles, to their friends and family, to this refuge, to the light side of the Force, and to each other. They provided a shining example to all of us, and in the end, they showed that they were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice so that others might live. I can only hope that each of us will remember them and the principles that they embodied.

In this time, we remember those who also fell in the defense of freedom and justice, and though their own time for memorial has come and gone, we too shall honor their memory just as Selu and Milya did. United by a common cause, they fell fighting for the things they held dearest.

Even as many of us will now go our own separate ways and others embark on the greatest journey that our people will ever make, their memory will live on. It lives on in the lives of those they touched, those they befriended, those they saved. We are Selu and Milya’s living legacy and I hope that I, for one, will do their memory proud. Thank you.”

Sarth bowed his head as the hangar went dark aside from Selu’s and Milya’s holo for a moment of silence. Memories of Selu and Milya passed through his mind as he contemplated quietly. Then, as the time passed, he heard the clatter of boots as an honor guard of Yanibar Guardsmen stepped out from the rear of the room.

“For-ward harch,” the squad leader intoned quietly, the “h” sound replacing softer consonants in the marching cadence calls.

The eight honor guards, resplendent in their dress uniforms, marched in unison down the aisle.

“Column, halt,” the squad leader ordered as they reached the end of the aisle.

Sarth walked down to the leader and accepted the lit torch the man handed him. Turning, he headed back to the pyre as Cassi, Ryion, and Rhiannon joined him. Together, they each laid a hand on the torch, standing ready as the honor guard flanked right at a command from their leader.

“Pre-sent harms,” the squad leader called.

The blaster rifles the other seven carried were hoisted ready.

“Raise, harms.”

With that command, they pointed high at the ceiling.

“Harms, fire.”

A septet of blaster reports echoed through the hangar as seven low-intensity blasts issued from the honor guard. They fired again, and then again. A pair of musicians played Yanibar’s anthem, the only sound in the hushed hangar. Once the last note had died down, in unison, Sarth, Cassi, Ryion, and Rhiannon laid down the torch into the empty pyre. Lacking remains, it was still symbolic of Selu’s and Milya’s passing, a ritual afforded to every Elite Guardian who fell in the Jedi tradition.

“For the refuge, to the last,” Ryion intoned, the final creed of the Elite Guardians.

The flames quickly spread, licking at the wood that had been stacked. Sarth, Cassi, Ryion, and Rhiannon stood by the pyre until it died down and only embers remained. The call for dismissal was made, and the attendees were escorted to a series of conference rooms where refreshments awaited them.

Sarth moved quietly through each room in turn with Cassi on his arm, still grief-stricken, but encouraged to see so many people sharing stories and memories, talking gladly. In time, he knew, their mourning would pass and hope would be restored.

He paused by Zeyn and Danni, who were talking with Ana.

“Did our friends make it off safely?” he asked.

“They did,” Zeyn affirmed. “Once all the evacuation ships were in orbit, they headed back to their own world.”

“Good,” Sarth replied. “We wouldn’t have made it without them.”

“It was brave, what they did,” Danni added.

Sarth nodded, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and moved on. Ryion was off to the side, talking with Qedai, Akleyn, and a woman he didn’t recognize. She was dressed like a spacer, bringing back memories of Sarth’s own smuggler days.

“Who’s this, Ryion?” Sarth asked.

“This is Anja Gallandro,” Ryion introduced them. “We fought on Rishi.”

“Together, I hope,” Cassi said.

“Definitely,” Anja replied, offering her hand to Sarth.

Sarth and Cassi introduced themselves in turn.

“Glad you and Colonel Klivian could make it,” Akleyn told Anja.

“Least we could do,” she said. “Especially when we heard what happened, we were happy to bring our ships and pitch in.”

“About that,” Ryion remarked. “How busy are you?”

“Pretty busy, but why?” she asked.

“I might have a commission,” he told her. “I’d like to hire you for a private contract. A quiet job.”

Anja frowned.

“I’m not going to whatever lost world you guys found,” she said. “Don’t like you that much.”

“No, this is something different,” Ryion replied, his eyes catching on Jaina Solo across the room. “I want you to go to Tenupe and find someone. A pilot who was lost three years ago.”

Jaina had called his name out in her delirium on Belsavis, and a little digging on the side had revealed the identity and significance of this person. Ryion figured that finding him was the least he could do after the trouble she had endured.

“Tenupe’s a wild place, not to mention remote,” Anja said, her frown deepening. “Who is it?”

“Someone who was once important,” Ryion answered. “A friend of a friend.”

She shrugged.

“What if they’re dead?”

“Then bringing back the proof will bring some closure to his family,” Ryion replied. “You’ll be well-compensated.”

“I’ll do it,” she said after considering. “Just this once.”

“Thank you, Anja,” Ryion told her.

Sarth and Cassi had already left the conversation, mingling with the assembled guests. Master Skywalker found them.

“I just wanted to say that your speech was well-received,” the Jedi Master told them.

“Thank you,” Sarth said.

“Are you sure you don’t want the story of this place to be known?” Luke asked. “I don’t mind fending off the media with tales of Jedi secrecy—but is it best that way?”

“I think so,” Cassi told him. “Let our people be a mere footnote when the galactic history of these years are written. We have no desire for galactic acclaim or recognition.”

Luke shook his head.

“It’s amazing what you managed to accomplish here,” he said. “It would be a shame for that memory to be lost.”

“Master Skywalker, the people who need to know, know,” Cassi replied simply. “That is enough.”

He nodded and acceded.

“If that’s what you want,” he said. “May the Force be with you on your journey. The sympathies of the Jedi Order go with you. I just wish things had been different.”

He did not elaborate as to whether he meant that Yanibar’s people would stay or that their victory had been achieved at lesser cost, and they did not ask. Sarth and Cassi thanked him and then left.

Two hours later, the guests were headed for their ships, departing the mighty flagship of the Yanibar Guard.

Meanwhile, Ryion and Shara found Jaina as she was heading towards the Millennium Falcon with her family.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” she told him. “To all of you.”

“I guess it is,” Ryion said.

She hugged him one last time.

“Thank you,” she said. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances, but it was an honor fighting alongside you.”

“The same,” Ryion told her. “May the Force be with you, Jaina Solo.”

“And with you,” she replied, then gave him a dubious look. “I’m not much for goodbyes, but I owed you this one. You put your neck on the line for me.”

“You would have done the same,” Ryion told her. “Consider us even.”

She smiled.

“Sounds good.”

Then Jaina sauntered off to join her family on the most famous light freighter in the galaxy. Shara placed one hand on her own stomach.

“She doesn’t know,” she said.

“No,” Ryion agreed. “She never will. And that is how it has to be. We guard and preserve a secret hope. That is our duty.”

He and Shara made their way back to a smaller, private conference room where the rest of his extended family was gathered along with Danni, Bryndar, and Jasika. Rhiannon and her family were there as well.

“Well, I guess this is our signal,” Kavlis told them. “Our convoy leaves for Naos tomorrow.”

“You could stay here tonight if you want,” Sarth offered. “If that makes it easier.”

Kavlis looked at Rhiannon, who shook her head.

“No, I think it’s time,” she said. “After Morgedh’s funeral, and now Mom and Dad’s. . . I’d rather just handle all the partings at one time.”

“If that’s how you want it,” Sarth replied.

She nodded and embraced him, going around to each person in the room. Tears spilled from her unseeing eyes as she bid her final goodbyes to her family. Ryion held her closely.

“I love you, Rhi,” he said.

“I love you, too, Ryion,” she said.

It was a painful farewell and Ryion knew the memory of his sister’s final departure would linger with him forever. He shook Kavlis’s hand, hugged his nephew and niece who were also leaving for Naos. He steeled himself up for the moment when she would walk out of the room to her ship and leave his life forever, forcing himself to not run after her and beg her to change her mind. It had been hard enough losing his parents, and now he was facing permanent separation from his big sister too. But it was for the best, so Ryion knew he would not intervene despite his heartache. Rhiannon and the rest of the Burkes bid one last goodbye and then they were off. Twelve hours later, the Galactic Alliance and contractor ships were gone. The surface of Yanibar was desolate and abandoned, wracked by cataclysmic groundquakes, tidal waves, and storms. An ordered formation of ships was outbound from the system.

The Kraens stood on the observation deck as Admiral Hasla Almani Cyrreso prepared the evacuation fleet for hyperspace. Every ship of the Yanibar Guard was formed around the eight dome-shaped transports. A trio of smaller ships housed the Shapers of Kro Var, the people whom the guide that had led Cassi to Atlaradis belonged. Together with the Jedi, Zeison Sha, Grey Paladins, Matukai, and Jal Shey, along with every other sentient in the fleet, they were all bound for their new home. Cassi looked over and was encouraged to see she was surrounded by those closest to her. Sarth, Akleyn, Qedai, Ryion, Shara, Zeyn, Ana, Tavin, and now Danni Quee as well—all present.

“Councilor,” Hasla turned to address her. “The fleet is ready for hyperspace. We await your signal.”

Cassi looked around at the others gathered around her one last time for their strength and nodded.

“We’re ready,” she told them. “Begin the voyage.”

From the viewport, the stars elongated as the combined fleet jumped to hyperspace. Three weeks and eight intermediate jumps later, they reverted back to realspace and again all the Kraens were on the bridge of the Lightbearer. Before them was a star system composed of two worlds—one desolate and rocky, the other verdant green and blue, lush and rich with life. A thick asteroid belt floated between them, colored by wisps of teal and magenta interplanetary gas, broken only at a single point. A massive toroidal space station with eight spokes protruding from its central ring hung in the gap. The sight was breathtaking, particularly as all of them except Cassi had only heard of the planet and had never actually been there for themselves.

“There it is,” Cassi breathed. “Atlaradis.”

“And the Needle’s Eye,” Ryion added, referring to the space station she had told them of.

“We’re here,” Sarth said, in wonder at the serene world before him.

The Force emanated from Atlaradis, its power permeating the very space between them. He had never sensed a world so alive, so saturated with the power of the Force—and so welcoming.

“Signal the station,” Admiral Cyrreso ordered.

The comm officer complied.

“Channel’s open.”

“Needle’s Eye, this is the Lightbearer, recently from Yanibar,” she said, casting a sideways glance at Cassi. “We were told you were expecting us.”

Cassi broke into a grin as the familiar voice of Jorgesoll Knrr crackled over the communications system.

“Indeed we are,” Jorge replied affably. “Took you long enough!”

“Are we clear to move to the planet?” Sarth asked him.

“Absolutely,” the voice of his wife, Annita Daowot, came through. “The Caretakers that live on the station have been waiting for this moment as much as we have. They knew you would all come and have made preparations.”

“We’ll meet on the station to sort out the details,” Jorge said.

“But first,” Annita offered. “Let me be the first to say welcome home.”

Epilogue
Sarth Kraen approached the mouth of the tunnel warily. Though Cassi and some of the others had been up here before, this was his first time even after eight months of living on Atlaradis. Cassi followed behind him at some distance. There was no need to exchange words—the solitude and solemnity of this place had hushed any conversation between them. They were high in the mountains of Atlaradis, having walked three kilometers through the tunnel carved through a cleft in the mountains. He emerged from the tunnel onto a small moss-covered ledge. Deep crevices stood between him and the other peaks and a thick mist roiled from the invisible depths to blanket everything but the silhouettes of the other peaks. He stepped out onto the moss-covered shelf past two carved stone pillars embedded in the cliff face near the tunnel’s mouth. The shelf was nearly eighty meters wide and extended outward for about thirty meters. It was deathly quiet and Sarth’s steps were equally soft as he walked cautiously, Cassi close behind. He approached what the others had told him about, an elevated rocky dais at the edge of the shelf.

As he been told, eight pillars were arranged unevenly in a ring nine meters in diameter, some of them crumbled and overgrown with moss. One of them was cleft in two, but the severed top portion was floating perfectly above the rest of the pillar. All eight pillars were covered in the same alien inscriptions as the cavern walls he had come through had been. Moss and mist enwrapped the pillars, shrouding their full details.

In the center of the stone ring was pool of water, perfectly circular and bordered by more engraved stones. By its far end, rising out of a smaller stone ring containing earth was a single young tree. Less than two meters high, its broad leaves were pale green, their edges blazoned with a gleaming silver color. The tree’s branches had bark of a more muted silver color and spread out widely, but none of them hung over the perfectly still water. The air was thick and mist-filled. This was the Oracle of Atlaradis, a singularity in the Force where one could speak to the dead that had been known in life. The air was saturated with pervasive Force power that Sarth felt as a tingling sensation as he walked towards the pool. Sitting by its edge, he folded his legs in a meditative position and closed his eyes, filling the ambient Force aura in this place suffuse him. Cassi sat beside him and did likewise.

When he opened his eyes, three apparitions had materialized from the mists. Sarth smiled as he recognized Selu, Milya, and Spectre.

“You came,” he said. “All of you.”

“Of course we did,” Spectre answered. “Not that we had anything better to do.”

Having been departed the longest, Spectre was the most comfortable with referring to his state tongue-in-cheek. Sarth chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s good to hear from you again, old friend,” he said.

“Likewise,” Spectre told him.

“What about Morgedh,” Sarth offered. “Isn’t he with you as well?”

Milya’s transparent visage grew troubled.

“No,” she said. “He is beyond our sight.”

“What does that mean?” Cassi asked.

Selu shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said. “We have spent much effort looking for him, and we will continue to do so.”

“I suppose that’s all we can ask for,” Sarth replied.

“What can we do for you?” Selu asked his brother, changing the subject.

“Nothing much here,” Sarth said. “The people are beginning to settle in. We’re harvesting crops soon and finishing houses and the start of towns. Kraechar is setting up shop in orbit, but I doubt we’ll have much need of weapons, so we’re diversifying. We’ll be making anything we need to live here.”

“I would not be too optimistic about never needing weapons,” Spectre cautioned them. “One day, our people may be called back to the galaxy—and the route will re-open eventually.”

“Not within our lifetimes,” Sarth replied. “The next one won’t happen for another fifty years, but you’re right—we’ll maintain the Guard in some fashion.”

“Shara is about to have her child,” Cassi said, changing the subject. “He will grow up knowing peace.”

Selu and Milya smiled.

“That is how it should be,” Milya said. “And the others? Zeyn? Akleyn? Tavin?”

Cassi knew that their departed friends already were aware of various happenings, but they also liked to be told of events, to have real conversation, so she indulged them.

“Akleyn and Qedai are looking forward to parenthood,” Cassi told them. “They agreed to take the child once Shara gives birth. Ryion and Shara have talked about how they’ll likely start a family of their own soon.”

“As for Zeyn, he’s weeks away from marrying Danni,” Sarth added. “It’ll happen soon.”

“Good for him,” Selu said. “Marrying a Quee worked out great for Dad.”

“How is Rhiannon?” Cassi asked, knowing that Selu and Milya had no doubt been observing their daughter.

“She is well,” Selu answered. “Living happily on Naos with her family. She misses all of you, and us, but she is surviving. We visit her from time to time—just not enough to make the neighbors think she’s crazy.”

Selu’s apparition glanced around, drinking in the sights of Atlaradis, before turning to his brother.

“So, what is Atlaradis like? How does it feel to live there?”

“Beyond my wildest dreams,” Sarth told them.

However, it was Cassi who had the best answer.

“This is where I belong,” she said peacefully. “This is home.”