Crosscurrent

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When Jaden and Khedryn found the central computer room, it had been ransacked. All of the comp stations appeared to be destroyed, some obviously slashed by lightsabers, others simply smashed with something heavy. Ruined display screens, servers, and CPUs dotted the floor. Pieces of shattered data crystals crunched underfoot like caltrops.

"Someone did not like computers," Khedryn said.

Jaden had hoped to find an answer in the core computing room. Instead he'd found the same ruin that characterized the rest of the complex. He felt pressure building in his chest, at the base of his skull.

For the first time, he began to worry that the complex had nothing to show him.

But how could that be?

He went from table to table, sorting through the debris.

"Anything usable, Khedryn. There has to be something here. Look! Look!"

Khedryn joined him, the two of them sifting the strata of destruction like archaeologists.

Khedryn pulled a water-stained hard-copy schematic from the debris, holding it gently by one corner. "Looks like the layout of this facility." He studied it for a moment, turned it over, slowly unfolding it.

"Careful," Jaden said.

Khedryn got it unfolded in one piece and studied it. "It mentions a lower level in the key but does not show it."

"Good find. Keep looking."

Jaden needed something more solid, something that would show him where the Force wanted him to go. He could not consult his feelings. They were too clouded with doubt. He wanted facts. He wanted-needed-to understand the facility's purpose, the reason for all the mystery.

Reaching under a desk against the wall, he found some stray data crystals, frayed power cords, and a single computer that was not obviously damaged. The batteries would be long dead.

"I need a power cord," he said over his shoulder.

"Here," Khedryn said, grabbing one from the floor near his feet and tossing it to Jaden.

Jaden held his breath as he plugged one end into the computer, the other into an outlet, and turned on the power.

He blew out a relieved breath when it hummed to life. He thought Khedryn must surely have heard his heartbeat.

"There are data crystals under that desk. Grab them. Any that are intact."

Khedryn did. There were dozens.

They tried one after another, quickly finding all of them encrypted or unusable. Jaden's elation faded. The facility seemed intent on keeping its secrets.

"Second to last," Khedryn said. "Holocrystal."

He tossed it to Jaden. Jaden snatched it out of the air and shot him a glare for being so careless. Khedryn responded by making bug eyes.

Jaden inserted the crystal into the functioning computer and tried to extract usable data. As he had with all the others, he moved through a series of files and found most of them corrupted. He executed two or three and the computer's holoplayer projected only a scrambled image and indecipherable audio.

Khedryn shook his head and walked away in frustration.

Toward the end of the file string, Jaden hit on a log of files that appeared less damaged than the others.

"Here," he said to Khedryn, and ran the files.

"What do you have?"

"Let's see."

The computer holoprojector lit up, and a shaky hologram materialized before them. Dr. Black-they could read the name on his lab coat-a paunchy, graying human with a receding hairline and eyes set too close together, spoke without much inflection.

"… of us will keep a log. This is mine. Experiment log. Day one. Dr. Gray was finally able to recombine the sample DNA into a usable form. I told him that he'd earned a drink from the whiskey stores. Dr. Green and Red agree on the growth medium. Subjects A through I are born."

He gave a tiny smile, nodded slightly as if satisfied, and the log entry faded out.

"DNA?" Khedryn said. "Clones or a bioweapon, then."

"Seems likely," Jaden said, though he dared not follow the thread of his thoughts to its conclusion. Instead he continued the holo-log. Long portions of it were ruined. They saw still moments captured in time as if frozen by the ice of the moon: Dr. Black's face motionless in an expression of triumph or defeat, his pronouncement of a single word or phrase that meant little absent context.

"Jedi and Sith," Dr. Black said, the words floating alone in the cold space of the ruined data crystal, nothing before or after them to give them meaning.

Jaden stopped the holo, reset the recording to an earlier point, at the same time rewinding in his head the voices and imagery from his vision.

"Jedi and Sith," said Dr. Black.

Jaden, said Mara Jade Skywalker.

Jaden played it again.

"Jedi and Sith," said Dr. Black. "Jedi and Sith."

Jaden, said Master Solusar.

"There is no more in that bit, Jaden," Khedryn said. "Keep going."

Jaden, said Lassin.

"Jaden," Khedryn said, louder, and put a hand over Jaden's. "Speed it forward."

Jaden came back to himself and nodded, his mind spinning, then continued the holo. He felt knots drawing close, puzzle pieces falling into place. Another single word chilled his blood.

"… Palpatine," Dr. Black said.

"I thought this was a Thrawn-era facility," Khedryn said.

"It was," Jaden answered, but said no more.

"Keep going," Khedryn said, warming to the mystery.

Jaden did, and they hit on a longer entry.

"There," Khedryn said.

Jaden replayed it.

"… thirty-three. The experiment has been an unqualified success. We retarded the maturation process as much as possible to ensure an appropriate rate of growth, but the subjects still grew to maturity much more rapidly than our models predicted. Memory imprinting will begin soon, though the subjects appear to have been born with extant knowledge of their Force sensitivity. All have exhibited mastery of basic and moderately advanced Force techniques. Testing reveals an extraordinarily high midi-chlorian count in all subjects. Grand Admiral Thrawn has been apprised of the results."

The entry ended, and neither Khedryn nor Jaden said anything.

Ignoring the feel of Khedryn's eyes on him, Jaden sped forward through the log, looking for something else coherent, rushing toward whatever catastrophe befell the facility.

A broken entry sometime later showed a haggard-looking Dr. Black. His entire body drooped, as if borne down by a great weight. A few unidentifiable stains marred his lab coat.

"He looks like he has lost ten kilos," Khedryn said.

Jaden played the hologram. Dr. Black spoke to them from out of the past.

"Subject H was killed by the other Subjects in an incident of collective… rage. We are unsure what sparked the incident."

The holo faded. Jaden sped it forward but encountered nothing for some time. Then Black appeared again, the circles under his eyes dark enough to have been drawn in ink. He licked his lips nervously as he spoke.

"… appear to have an unusual connection to one another, empathetic certainly. Possibly telepathic. This was unexpected. Dr. Gray believes that… "

The image faded again and in the next available entry, Dr. Black's voice audibly quavered. "We discovered today that Subject A had smuggled enough spare parts into his living quarters to build a rudimentary lightsaber. A subsequent search of the other Subjects' living quarters revealed that all of them had partially constructed lightsabers at one or another stage of development. Security has been… "

The entry turned black. So did Jaden's thoughts.

"Lightsabers?" Khedryn asked, his voice low. "Were they cloning… Jedi?"

For a moment, Jaden's mouth refused to form words. In his head he saw Lassin, Kam, Mara, all of them with Force signatures more akin to Sith than Jedi. How could Thrawn have gotten their DNA? Mara would have been easy, but Kam? Lassin? The others?

"I do not know for certain," he said, while the words from Dr. Black's original entry stuck in his brain as if tacked there by a nail: recombine the sample DNA.

The DNA of whom? Or what?

Jedi and Sith.

Palpatine.

Jaden's mouth was as dry as a Tatooine desert. He continued through the holo-log, a pit the size of a fist opening in his stomach. He stopped when a human woman in a lab coat appeared before them. She wore her dark hair short and looked younger than Dr. Black. Her left hand twitched as she spoke. Jaden read the name on her coat-DR. GRAY. He wondered what had happened to Dr. Black, then supposed he did not want to know.

"… their hostility toward their confinement is growing, as is their power. Even the stormtroopers seem frightened by them… "

A final entry followed. Again, Dr. Gray spoke.

"… lost control. The lower level is sealed and I have requested of the Grand Admiral that the experiment be terminated along with the Subjects by way of a trihexalon gas protocol. All of the surviving staff members agree with this recommendation."

The holo-log stopped, though the frozen image of Dr. Gray hung in the air before them like a ghost. Jaden and Khedryn sat in silence, each alone with the jumble of his thoughts. Jaden spoke first.

"There is a lower level. There must be a lift."

"They had hex here," Khedryn said, his brow wrinkled with concern. "If they used it, even the residuum could be harmful. I saw a holovid that showed what that stuff can do. We are in deep here, Jaden."

Jaden barely heard him. "We need to find the lift, go down, see if anyone is there." He pictured the shape of the facility. They had covered most of it already. The lift had to be nearby.

Khedryn stepped through the image of Dr. Gray to stand before Jaden. "Did you hear me?"

"Did you hear the holo-log? They had prisoners here."

"Subjects," Khedryn said. "Clones. Lab rats."

"They were confined against their will."

"From the sound of it, that was the right thing to do. They thought them dangerous enough to gas them with hex, Jaden."

Jaden fixed Khedryn with a thousand-kilometer stare. "I need to go down."

Khedryn's good eye followed his lazy one away from Jaden's face. "They combined Jedi DNA with something else and grew it into clones. Dangerous clones."

Jaden inhaled, then dived in, speaking to Khedryn the way he might have to R6, the way he did when confessing a transgression. "I suspect they recombined the DNA of Jedi with the DNA of Sith."

Khedryn's lazy eye floated in its socket, fixing on nothing, as if it did not want to see. "Why would they do that? Being a Jedi or a Sith is a choice, isn't it? It's not biology."

Jaden shook his head. "We didn't know all there is to know about how biology meshes with Force use. Perhaps they sought to create some kind of breakthrough Force-user, one unbound by the limitations of light and dark."

"How is that possible? Light and dark sides are exclusive, aren't they?"

Jaden turned off the computer and Dr. Gray disappeared. "The line between light and dark is not as clear as many think."

"More reason we should go, Jaden. They created some kind of monsters here and-"

"Not monsters!" Jaden said, and the harshness of his tone took them both unawares. He hung his head. "I need to go down, Khedryn. If any of them are still alive, I need to… help them."

"Help them!" Khedryn exclaimed, then, more softly, "We are not talking about them. And you and I both know it. Jaden, you made a mistake on Centerpoint. An understandable one. Fine. Don't make another one here. It's time to go."

"I cannot."

Khedryn continued, his words like hammerblows. "Subjects A through I. One is dead for certain, but that leaves up to eight clones that could still be alive. I have seen what you can do, but you are one man. Eight, Jaden. And we have reason to suspect they will be hostile."

"I know all that."

"You are asking me to risk my life so you can save your conscience."

"I did not know things would turn out this way, Khedryn," Jaden said, and meant it. "Go back to Flotsam and wait for me there."

"I don't quit, Jaden. That's not-"

Jaden's thoughts crystallized around the fact that he had asked far too much of Khedryn already. Relin had done the same with Marr. They-the Jedi-were exacting too high a price from those around them. Jaden wanted no more blood on his hands.

"Listen to me, Khedryn. You are right: This has been and is about me learning something about myself. I… can use light and dark side powers and I do not know what that means for me."

The words caused Khedryn to take a half step back, as if Jaden had struck him. His eyes widened. "You can what? Like the clones?"

Jaden bulled forward without acknowledging the question. "But I think there's an answer here, in this place. And I do not want you risking anything more than you already have-"

"I said I do not quit, Jedi."

Jaden nodded. "And I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to recognize the fact that you will be able to do nothing for me should I meet the clones. They will be dangerous, too dangerous for you. Go back to the ship. We can stay in contact via comlink. If something happens to me, you can leave, rendezvous with Marr and Relin."

Khedryn shook his head, pure stubbornness taking over. "Relin is not coming back. You and I both know that, too. But Marr better."

"Go back," Jaden said. "Go back, Khedryn."

Khedryn continued to shake his head, but Jaden saw his resistance crumbling.

He put his hand on Khedryn's arm. "Go. Back."

"You using that mind trick on me again?"

Jaden smiled. "Yes, I am. You know why you have no weapons on Junker?"

"Because I run," Khedryn said softly, and his lazy eye looked past Jaden and off to the side, no doubt seeing the world askew. He refocused on Jaden. "You are certain?"

"I am."

"I don't intend to leave without you, though."

Jaden knew he had done the right thing. He saw the relief in Khedryn's body language, his expression. Khedryn seemed to draw a deep breath for the first time since leaving Junker.

"Understood, Khedryn. Go on."

They settled on a comlink frequency and Khedryn headed out, while Jaden studied the schematic that showed the facility's layout. He put his finger on the drawing of the lift that led to a lower level.

"There be dragons," he said.

Kell slid through the open hatch of the facility, past the guard post, and down the dark hallway. He activated the light-amplifying implants in his eyes and glided through the dim corridors. His mimetic suit rendered him all but invisible against the featureless gray walls. His skill rendered him all but silent.

For a time, he was easily able to track Jaden and his companion by way of the wet tracks they left behind. When those disappeared, he relied more heavily on his skills. He examined patterns in the dust, depressions in the carpet, noted items-a computer station, a closet door-that appeared recently disturbed. He also kept his keen hearing focused on the way ahead.

From time to time he heard the hiss of distant voices, the squeak of an opening door, the tread of boots on metal.

The facility was some kind of secret research lab, though its particular purpose was lost on Kell. He spent little time thinking about it. His appetite pulled him forward. He imagined himself casting a line of fate into an ocean of possibilities and hooking Jaden Korr. All he needed to do now was reel him in and feed.

His hunger grew with each step.

Marr slammed his palm into the button that closed Junker's cargo bay door on the dead Massassi, on the ruins of Khedryn's Searing, on the ruins of Relin.

There is nothing certain.

Once the door began its descent, he took one last look down the freight corridor at the corpses and the destrution, then turned and sprinted for the cockpit. He stopped dead when he hit the galley, his chest rising and falling like a forge bellows.

The caf pot on the table had been toppled, the caf still dripping off the edge, pattering on the floor. He stared at it as if the spill pattern were a deep mystery whose solution promised wisdom.

The hard landing had spilled it.

He started to walk, stopped again.

If that were true, the caf would not still be dripping to the floor.

Something else had spilled it. Very recently.

The clang of an opening hatch sounded from somewhere behind him, one of the corridors on the stern side of the galley.

His heart revved faster than the Searing. For a moment, fear froze him. His thoughts turned chaotic, coming so fast and inchoate that they made no sense.

They had gotten in the ship from the landing bay side. They must have pried open an exterior hatch, or cut their way in, or something.

Another hatch sounded, closer. He heard the soft tread of boots on Junker's metal floors, a ginger footfall trying and failing to move with stealth.

The proximity of the danger freed him from his paralysis and he bolted from the galley, clutching his blaster in a sweaty hand as he ran. After he'd cleared the galley, reason overcame fear and he realized that pelting through the corridors would both telegraph his position and potentially send him right into the arms of whoever was aboard. He had no idea where they were, what they were.

He slowed, his heart still thumping madly, and ducked into a seldom-used crew quarters. The small room featured nothing but twin, wall-mounted bed racks and a round viewport blocked by the gray steel of a security shield.

He had to get himself under control, think rationally.

Recalling what Relin had taught him, he tried to retreat into the keep but found it barred. Fear worked against him. He could not seem to catch his breath.

Gathering himself, steadying his breathing, he thought of the calculations that proved Vellan's theorem and tried again.

He relaxed as he fell into the Force. Its touch comforted him, warmed him, steadied him. The Force crowded out his fear, leaving him clear-headed and calm.

Marr realized that Relin had been wrong. There was something certain. The Force was certain, as constant as the speed of light.

He considered his options and realized that all of them led to a single place-the cockpit. But first he needed to get to the storage locker near the forward air lock.

He put his hand to the cool metal of the hatch, turned it, and pushed it open. Cringing at the squeak, he exited the quarters and moved in fits and starts along Junker's corridors. Every windowless hatch was an exercise in controlled terror since he had no idea what he would find on the other side. As best he could, he peeked around corners, listened before he moved. From time to time he heard sounds of movement behind him, the soft chatter of a quieted comlink. Whoever was aboard sounded louder now, more careless than before, as if Harbinger's crew thought the ship empty.

He reached the air lock, opened the storage locker, and grabbed an oxygen kit and his vac suit. Not quite a hardsuit designed for long-term exposure to the vacuum, this was a flexible mesh-and-plate garment used for short-term space walks. He'd used it to travel between ships on salvage jobs, make quick repairs to Junker's exterior, and the like.

He considered donning it then and there but felt too exposed in the corridor. Instead, he slung it over his shoulder, grunting under its weight, and humped it through the corridors.

Before he had gone ten meters, a guttural voice shouted behind him. He did not understand the language, but he understood the tone.

He whirled, saw two of the Massassi in black uniforms, and fired a shot with his blaster. It clicked and fizzed, the charge exhausted. He cursed, dropped it, drew the blaster he'd taken from the dead Massassi back in the freight corridor, and fired.

He missed badly and threw himself against the wall as the two Massassi tore down the hall toward him, their blasters sending pulses of green energy into the bulkhead near him.

The spinwheel of a hatch pressed into his back. He fired a couple of shots, forcing the Massassi to slam themselves against the wall for cover, and threw open the hatch. He ducked inside the corridor and closed the hatch behind him. It had no lock. Cursing, he looked around for anything he could stick into the spinwheel's spokes, but saw nothing.

He heard the Massassi on the other side of the door, and then the wheel started to spin. Marr grabbed it, but the creatures were far too strong. Desperate, he stuck the Massassi blaster into the spin wheel, wedging it between the wheel and the pull handle. It stuck, halting the wheel's spin, but Marr knew it would not hold for long.

Heedless of the danger of bumping into more Massassi, he ran as fast as he could for the cockpit. Adrenaline lent him strength, but the vac suit and oxygen kit weighed him down. By the time he saw the cockpit door ahead, his lungs burned and his legs felt like lead.

Blasterfire from behind sizzled past his ears and slammed into the bulkhead. The shouts of the Massassi, more than two, rang out behind him. He dug deep, surprising himself when the Force gave him strength and speed, and staggered into the cockpit.

Pain lit his back on fire as a rain of small metal disks, dozens of them like flying razors, ricocheted around the space. Warm blood streamed down his back and he hoped he had not taken a hit to a kidney.

He threw the vac suit and oxygen kit to the ground, the momentum pulling him to his knees, and turned to close the cockpit security door. Three Massassi sped down the hall, the trunks of their legs chewing up the distance, the thump of their boots like blaster shots on the metal floor. Two others behind the charging three whirled their polearms above their head, jerking them back as Marr hit the security door release. A rain of the tiny metal disks flew from the end of the pole arms over the other Massassi, but the door closed and they chimed against it like tinny rain.

Marr's breath sounded loud in the close confines of the dark cockpit. A bout of dizziness caused him to sway. He was losing blood rapidly.

Impacts challenged the security door-shoulders or booted feet-but it held for the moment. Marr did not have much time. He could hear the Massassi growling in their language on the other side of the door.

He needed to get off Harbinger but he dared not lift the security shields for fear the deck crew would shoot out Junker's viewports. He would have to fly her on instruments only.

He climbed to his feet, put the autopilot into launch prep, and methodically donned the vac suit and oxygen kit, all while blasterfire from the Massassi pounded against the security door. Judging from the noise, Marr thought more of the creatures must have joined the first five. Blaster shots challenged the door but did not penetrate it.

The autopilot completed pre-launch and Marr squeezed into the pilot's seat. He engaged the repulsorlifts and Junker rose off the deck.

For a moment, the Massassi left off their attack on the cockpit security door. Perhaps they had felt the liftoff.

Marr's mouth turned dry as he rotated Junker on its vertical axis, using only his instrumentation to orient him.

An explosion from outside the ship rocked it sidelong into Harbinger's bulkhead. Marr fell from his seat as metal scraped against metal. For a terrifying moment the power on the ship went brown and Junker started to sink, but emergency reserves kicked in and brought it back online.

He cursed as he climbed back into his seat, fearful that he had perforated his suit, but he had no time to examine it. He checked his board, cursed again when he saw that the explosion had scrambled the readout from his instrumentation. Nonsensical information streamed from the scanners. He activated a diagnostic but could not wait for it to resolve itself.

In his mind, he pictured the layout of Harbinger's landing bay. To him, it was all angles, proportions, distances in meters. As he fell into the geometry of his mind, he felt his connection to the Force strengthen. The connection had always been there, but now that he recognized it, he could more readily use it. Mathematics was his interface with the Force.

Another explosion slammed Junker against Harbinger's bulkhead. In the corridor outside the cockpit, the Massassi renewed their assault on the door, a more frantic, desperate assault.

Marr remained calm, though blood loss turned him mildly dizzy. Thinking of Jaden piloting Junker through the rings, he strapped himself into his seat as best he could-his vac suit did not allow for full use of the harness-closed his eyes, trusted his instincts, and piloted Junker in the direction he thought was out. If he was wrong, he was flying not out but deeper into the landing bay. In that case, he would soon be dead.

He fought down the doubt and continued his course.

Blasterfire from the landing bay thumped against the ship, like someone knocking urgently for entry. The Massassi outside the security door beat against it like rancors in a bloodlust.

Blind but not-blind, Marr felt Harbinger's bulkheads, felt other ships nearby, the faint pulse of Harbinger's crew around Junker. He was going the right way.

He understood the interconnection of all things by the Force, understood how Jaden had piloted Junker through the gas giant's rings. The realization made him smile as Junker flew on its repulsors toward the mouth of the landing bay. He held the smile as blood poured from his back and he began to see spots.

When he had put some distance behind him and the deck crew, he raised the security shields. The mouth of Harbinger's landing bay was just ahead and, beyond it, the black of space and the partial arc of the gas giant's moon.

The squeal of straining metal turned him around in his seat and sent his heart racing. The Massassi had forced the security door open a centimeter and wedged one of the metal studs they wore in their skin between the door and the bulkhead. One of them must have pulled it from his flesh. Their voices sounded loud and close-too close-through the slit. He could see motion through the gap and ducked as they tried to get the barrel of a blaster through. The opening was not quite wide enough, but it would be soon.

He heard an exclamation and saw the work end of a pry bar slip into the gap. They had taken it from one of the wall-mounted emergency equipment cases.

He cursed and engaged the ion engines. Junker raced out of Harbinger's landing bay and into open space. He presumed Harbinger's deflectors would work on the same outward-facing principle as their modern counterparts so he did not power down and coast. Instead he kept the engines at full and blew through them.

The door creaked open more, its springs and levers groaning against the Massassi's strength. Marr looked over his shoulder and saw the hole of a blaster barrel pointed through the slit, one yellow eye of a Massassi fixed on him.

Marr hunched in his seat out of reflex, though the seat would not so much as slow a blaster shot. He pulled back on the Junker's control and accelerated to full as the ship went vertical. The sudden shift in direction and velocity poured him flat into his seat and sent the Massassi backward from the door. The crowbar slipped free and the sound of a blaster's discharge accompanied their frustrated roars.

Weakened from his injuries, Marr almost passed out from the maneuver. The view through the cockpit window shrank to a tunnel with a few stars as he tried to hold on to consciousness. His blood pumped like a drum in his ears. The drumming gave way to a soft, steady rush, white noise that reminded him of the surf on Cerea. The tunnel of his awareness reduced to a pinpoint. He was falling…

He fought his way back, seized awareness with both hands, and reached for the lever and buttons that would activate the emergency vent sequence. He seemed to be moving in slow motion, watching himself on a vidscreen.

He hit the control sequence and an alarm beeped. Designed to put out an electrical fire shipside, the emergency vent would cause rapid depressurization and vent all oxygen in the ship into space. The Massassi would be dead in less than a minute while the vac suit would protect Marr.

In theory.

The beeping alarm turned into a prolonged keen, indicating imminent venting. Marr realized that he had never had the opportunity to check his suit. His fall could have pierced it, or one of the Massassi's sharpened disk projectiles could have damaged it.

There was nothing for it.

The alarm fell silent as the interior of Junker turned into a vacuum. Marr listened to the sound of his breathing inside his helmet, the hiss of the oxygen kit feeding him air. He watched the life-support readout on the console show the absence of oxygen.

He turned in his seat and found himself staring at the muscular, red-skinned form of a Massassi. The cockpit door was open behind the creature, an open mouth that had vomited the Massassi into the cockpit. Broken capillaries turned the Massassi's yellow eyes into a mesh of black. The creature swayed on its feet, already dying from lack of oxygen. For what seemed an eternity, the Massassi stared at Marr and Marr stared at the Massassi through his suit's visor.

Baring its fangs, the creature lunged for Marr, clawed hands outstretched. Marr tried to grab the Massassi's wrists as the creature fell on him, but blood loss had left him with little strength, and the creature got its hands free of Marr's grasp. The Massassi tried to pull Marr from his seat but the straps secured him.

Marr reached for his blaster with a free hand, then realized he had no blaster. The Massassi, mouth wide and gasping for nonexistent air, hit the emergency release on Marr's strap and both of them fell to the cockpit floor in a heap.

The Massassi scrambled atop, his weight a vise on Marr's chest. Its clawed hands pawed at Marr's suit. Marr's breathing rasped in the echo chamber of the helmet. He tried again to grab the Massassi's arms but his strength was no match for the alien's. He punched the creature in the face, shoulders, but the blows were so weak the Massassi barely seemed to notice them.

The creature's face loomed into Marr's faceplate. Droplets of black blood fell from the Massassi's ears, eyes, and nose, smearing the screen. Marr once more felt the odd sensation that he was watching events happening to someone else on a vidscreen. The Massassi's claws closed on the suit's neck ring, then tighter, around Marr's throat, and started to squeeze.

Marr's body failed him. Strength rushed out of him as if through a hole. He could not lift even an arm to defend himself. He stared up through the smeared faceplate, barely able to see, barely able to breathe.

The Massassi squeezed Marr's throat, squeezed, then… released its grip and collapsed atop him, dead. The vacuum had done what Marr could not.

For a time, Marr heard only the sound of his own rapid breathing. After a few moments, he rolled the Massassi's bulk off him and sat up, feeling instantly dizzy. Every muscle in his body screamed. He tried to stand, but his legs would not support him and he sagged back to the floor. His body seemed disinclined to answer his demands.

Crawling on all fours, he climbed over the Massassi and went to the instrument panel, intending to deactivate the emvent and repressurize Junker. He tried to wipe away the blood on his faceplate but that only made it worse. His eyes seemed unable to focus. So, too, his mind. He could not remember which buttons did what.

Only then did he notice the hiss.

His vac suit was bleeding air.

He looked down and saw a gash in the suit's belly, a laughing mouth put there by a Massassi claw. He stared at it dumbly, watching the edges flap as the oxygen kit fed air into the vacuum.

He put both hands on the instrument console, leaned over it as if he could intimidate it into cooperating. Forcing himself to focus on the instruments, he tried to clear his mind enough to remember which sequence of buttons would repressurize the ship.

When he thought he had it, he pushed them, then pulled the lever.

Nothing happened.

He sagged into the pilot's seat, his vision fading. He was going to die unless he did something. He flicked on the autopilot and it blinked at him, awaiting a course.

Focusing on the navicomp, blinking through his pain and dizziness, he hit a random button and stared at the coordinates displayed on the screen. He did not recognize them at first, then realized them for what they were: the provenance of the distress beacon coming up from the gas giant's moon.

It occurred to him that he would get shot down by Harbinger's fighters before he ever hit the moon's atmosphere but he realized it did not matter. Oxygen deprivation and blood loss were already killing him.

He transmitted the coordinates from the navicomp to the autopilot.

He looked out the cockpit window as Junker came around. The moon came back into view, the gas giant and its rings, Harbinger. He wondered briefly how Relin was, then sank into his chair, into the Force, and did not move.

His mind wandered. He smiled, thinking that Khedryn could have at least allowed a medical droid aboard. But the captain was as stubbon as a bantha when it came to droids.

He found breathing difficult, tiring. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep.

Relin stalked Harbinger's corridors, more predator than prey. It was as if Marr had been the compass for his conscience, the Cerean's presence the needle that pointed to right and wrong. Now, alone with his anger, with the Lignan, Relin gave full play to the darkness of his emotions. The shipwide alarm continued to howl but he tuned it out, hearing only the call of revenge. He did not bother to hide his presence in the Force; he transmitted it. He wished for Saes to find him. The power of the Lignan saturated him, eager to be used in service to his rage.

While thinking through his attack in his time aboard Junker, he had planned to return once more to Harbinger's hyperdrive chamber and rig the hyperdrive to irradiate or explode the entire ship. But now, flush with power, he had another idea.

Moving through Harbinger's corridors reminded him of the last time he had been aboard. He imagined he would hear Drev's voice over his comlink-Drev's laughter-but he knew he would never hear his Padawan's voice again. His anger grew with every step. His power grew with every step. He used his growing connection to the Lignan to steer him through the ship, a left turn here, there a lift down or up.

Laugh even when you die.

Laughter bubbled up between Relin's gritted teeth, steam through an escape valve, venting the overflow of his anger lest he explode from it.

He turned a corner and found himself staring at three humans, all men, and a treaded mech droid. The humans wore helmets and surprised expressions. They stopped in their steps when they saw Relin and his lightsaber. One of them lifted the portable tool chest he bore to his chest, as if it could protect him.

Nothing could protect them.

The droid beeped a question.

Relin smiled.

All three of the humans dropped their tool chests, turned, and ran, shouting for help.

Relin augmented his speed with the Force, leapt over the droid, caught up to the humans, and put his lightsaber through each of them, one after the other. He barely noticed their screams.

A single Massassi security guard, perhaps hearing the tumult, trotted around the corridor to investigate.

"You!" the Massassi said, reaching for his blaster. "Halt right there!"

Relin gestured with his stump, closed a mental hand around the Massassi's windpipe, and crushed it with a thought. The creature fell to the ground, legs drumming the floor, clawing at his throat.

Stepping over and past the writhing Massassi, Relin continued on. He looked down at his hand and saw long fingers of Force lightning dancing out of his fingertips.

He laughed louder, shouting his hate through Harbinger's walls.

"Saes!"

Ahead, perhaps twenty meters, the doors of a turbolift opened to reveal six of Harbinger's crew, all humans. He did not see a blaster among them.

One started to step off, saw Relin, and stopped cold. His mouth opened, but he said nothing. Instead he retreated into the lift, said something to his fellow passengers, and frantically tapped at the control panel, trying to close the lift doors.

"Quickly!" another said, while one in the back spoke into her comlink.

Relin roared, increased his speed with the Force, and sprinted toward them. The six members of the crew flattened themselves against the far side of the lift, made themselves a living mural, but there was nowhere for them to run. Terror filled their eyes and blood fled their faces. The doors began to close but Relin held them open with telekinetic force.

Seeing that, the crew shouted for help, pressed themselves against the walls as if trying to meld flesh with metal. Relin stepped through the lift doors, laughing. The hum of his lightsaber competed with the screams, but not for long. He spun a circle, stabbing and slashing, pleased when his lightsaber met the soft resistance of human flesh. In a few moments the screams fell silent and only the hum remained.

Relin stared at the carnage he had caused. Tears warmed his face, mingling with the blood of those he had killed. Without warning he vomited, Junker's caf and his last meal joining the gore on the lift's floor. That, too, he stared at for a time, until his eyes dried.

Whatever had remained of him as a Jedi had just left him in a spray of puke.

On the control panel he saw a button for the lower level cargo bay. He knew he would find the Lignan there. The touch of the ore was the fishhook he'd swallowed and it was pulling him along by his guts.

Ever gone angling, Drev?

He had said those words a lifetime ago.

He pushed the button.

"When is the last time I felt anything?" he said, echoing Saes's challenge to him in their last duel.

"When indeed," he said, chuckling darkly.

Alarms blared from speakers overhead, the sound muted by the erkush bone mask Saes wore. With each step, he felt more attuned to his tribe and ancestors than he had in a long while. He had lost himself entirely when he had joined the Jedi Order, forced by Jedi teachings to renounce the fierceness of character and passionate spirit that made him who he was. He had partially recovered himself when he had spurned the Jedi and embraced the teachings of the Sith. But he had never felt closer to whole than he did now, moments before he would murder his former Master. He was a hunter, a warrior, a Kaleesh.

He threw back his head and screamed an ingmal hunting cry through the fangs of the mask. Startled faces emerged from hatches and side corridors, but he strode past them without offering an explanation.

Through his connection to Relin, he felt his one-time Master's growing anger over the loss of his Padawan. For a moment, but only a moment, Saes felt a flash of sympathy for Relin, a flash of kinship. He was pleased that Relin had felt the sting of loss, rather than only the distant, attenuated, abortive emotions the Jedi allowed themselves.

Saes knew that all men should feel the pain of loss before they died. In that way, they would know they had lived. Relin was no exception, and Saes was pleased for him. Now he could kill him with true affection in his heart.

Relin's anger would lead him to only one place. There, Saes would confront him, and their story together would end. He activated his comlink.

"Sir," Llerd said. "Other than a trail of bodies, we do not yet have any idea of the Jedi's location."

"He is on his way to the cargo bay," Saes said. "The Lignan is drawing him."

"I will alert security and-"

"No," Saes said. "Order the bay evacuated. I will face him there. Alone."

"Yes, sir."

The lift hummed as it descended several levels to Harbinger's cargo bay. Relin's lightsaber sizzled, warmed the close confines of the lift. He stared at its light, hypnotized by the swirl of green. He knew it should have been red. He wished it were red.

The doors opened and the naked power of the Lignan filled the lift compartment, filled Relin. Light-headed, giddy with power, he stepped into the cavernous cargo bay. Stacks of storage containers lined the walls. If the stresses of the misjump had knocked some to the floor or otherwise put the ship's cargo into disarray, the crew had cleaned it up.

Pieces of human-operated lift gear-lev pallets, treaded lifters-sat abandoned on the metal floor. He saw no one in the bay, not even a cargo droid, and he knew exactly what the emptiness meant. He walked across the floor, the lift closing behind him, the tread of his boots loud in the soaring chamber.

Following the string of his rage, he walked through a maze of storage containers until he found the several dozen that held the Lignan ore. They were stacked several high, arranged in a box shape, so that they described the perimeter of an open square of deck ten meters on a side. Several of the containers had been partially crushed and remained open. A pile of ore bled onto the deck through the open seals. He walked gingerly among the ore, touching none. He did not need to touch it with his flesh. He was connected to it in his spirit. It knew him, and knew what he needed.

The power in the air nearly lifted him from his feet. He was swimming in it. Elated rage buoyed his body, lit his spirit on fire. Force lightning formed flowing serpents around his fingers and forearms.

He sat down cross-legged among the ore, amid the embodiment of his need to murder one Padawan to avenge another, and awaited Saes and battle.