Crosscurrent

CHAPTER THREE

Relin started to lose forward momentum the instant he leapt clear of the air lock. He activated the magnetic grips in his gloves and boots as he fell. Time seemed to slow as he plummeted toward the transport, and an image of the transport against the background of stars burned itself into his memory. Remaining focused, holding the ship in his telekinetic grasp, he steered his descent and reeled himself in. He could not afford to slow himself with the Force and he hit the surface of the ship hard, thumping his helmet on the hull and for a moment scrambling the HUD.

The transport lurched the moment he alit, and the sudden shift in momentum nearly threw him. He cursed and grabbed the protuberances nearest to hand. The Force and his magnetic grips kept him anchored. For an instant he feared a scan by the transport crew had detected his presence, but the ship had swerved left and down, probably an evasive maneuver in response to the detection of the Infiltrator.

Drev would be under pressure soon. Relin had to move fast.

He hung on to the transport as it sped toward the dreadnoughts. Harbinger and Omen had long sleek bodies dotted everywhere with batteries of rotating laser cannon turrets, typically used for ship-to-ship combat. As he watched, the cannons rotated in the direction of the Infiltrator, but they would have difficulty getting a fix on the small, stealth-equipped starfighter.

In moments a rapid reaction squad of Sith fighters, like flying knives, streaked from the bay.

"Incoming," he said to Drev over the encrypted channel. "Ten Blade-class fighters. Stay among the smaller craft and the dreadnoughts will not fire."

He glanced back but could not see Drev and the Infiltrator, could see only the dark side of Phaegon III, a handful of the transport shuttles going evasive, and the floating rock of the dead moon. He returned his gaze to the dreadnoughts and focused on his mission. The transport was making for Harbinger.

Interior lights from observation decks and viewports flickered here and there along Harbinger's and Omen's lengths. In shape, the dreadnoughts reminded Relin of gigantic lanvaroks, the bladed polearm favored by the Sith. The tumors of bubble-shaped escape pods lined the spine that connected the forward bridge section to the aft engine and landing bay sections.

Like most Jedi, he'd studied the available schematics of Sith starships. He knew their layout. And he knew where he was going once he got aboard.

The transport straightened its course, descended a bit, and headed for the bay. Relin estimated the time of arrival, removed three of the mag-grenades from his flexsuit, and crawled along the transport as fast as he dared until he reached the housing for the engine nacelles. He stuck all three charges to one of the nacelles and waited.

The moment the transport cleared the landing bay's shielding and started to slow, he activated them, put them on a ten-second timer, and began counting down in his head. Two more Blades sped past him and out of the ship.

Ten, nine…

He worried for Drev. His Padawan was an extraordinary pilot, but the sky would be thick with Sith fighters. Relin would have to be fast.

Eight, seven…

The activity in the landing bay gave it the appearance of an Eesin hive. Pilots in full gear were carted in levs to their Blades. Droids wheeled and walked here and there. Organics and machines unloaded open transports and loaded what looked like raw ore onto lev pallets. The sight of the ore, the greasy feel of it, made Relin queasy.

He remembered a moment years before when he and Saes, then still a Jedi, had happened upon a crystal that enhanced a dark side user's connection to the Force. He shuffled through his memory until he recalled the name of the ore-Lignan.

The feel of it was the same. It had to be the same material.

He had never imagined there could be so much.

A female voice on the loudspeaker announced commands. "Cargo droid team four to landing bay one-sixty-three-bee."

Relin reached out with the Force and felt the minds around him as the transport settled into a landing bay and powered down its engines. Autoclamps secured its skids and gases vented with a hiss. Relin discerned ten or so beings nearby, none a Force-user, all weak-minded.

Five, four…

Using the Force, he entered their minds and erased himself from their perception.

Three, two…

He leapt from the ship, hit the floor in a roll, found his feet, and ran. Augmenting his speed with the Force, he covered a hundred meters in the tick of a chrono.

Zero.

Behind him, the mag-grenades blossomed into a cloud of flame and heat, and the secondary explosion from one or both of the transport's other engines rocked the landing bay. The concussion wave nearly knocked him from his feet. Shards of metal, chunks of flesh, screams, and sparkling motes of the transported ore peppered the area. The presence of the ore in its naked form made his stomach churn, and he took care as best he could to touch none of the particulates.

An alarm screeched and the crew near the wreckage scrambled for the firefighting gear. A medical droid wheeled past Relin.

"Firefighting team to main landing bay," announced the female voice.

Ears ringing, Relin hurried down a corridor in the direction of the hyperdrive chamber. He flipped back his helmet, letting it hang by the hinge at the rear of the suit's neck, and put the helmet's removable comlink in his ear.

A firefighting team, several curious crew members, and three towering, red-skinned Massassi in security uniforms stormed past him at intervals. He used the Force to deflect their perception as he hurried along. The interior of the ship reflected the mind-set of its Sith builders: all hard edges, sharp corners, and pure functionality, with no allowance for comfort or aesthetics.

The sound of the alarm grew fainter, and he allowed himself to feel a small sense of relief. He reached an intersection and paused for a moment to gather his bearings. He shuffled through the cards of his memory, recalling the direction of the hyperdrive chamber.

Left. And not far.

A hatch to his left slid open to reveal the muscular, vaguely reptilian form of a Massassi warrior in the deep black uniform and epaulets of security personnel. A lanvarok hung across his back, a blaster on the trunk of his thigh. Bone quills poked from his knuckles. Metal ornaments pierced his wide nose and small ears. Studs had been implanted underneath the red skin of his forearms, biceps, and hairless scalp. The Massassi's eyes fixed on Relin before he could use the Force to blind his perception. The tentacles of the Massassi's beard quivered over his broad, toothy mouth. A vein in his temple visibly throbbed.

"We need assistance in the landing bay," Relin said. "Something went wrong with the-"

The Massassi took in Relin's flexsuit, the lack of a uniform. His yellow eyes narrowed and his clawed hand clutched the hilt of his lanvarok, pulled it free. The large polearm could be spun by a wielder to release the sharpened metal disks mounted on its haft, or the jagged bladed end could serve as an ax. A crude weapon, but dangerous.

"Who is your superior?" the Massassi asked, his voice as guttural as comm static.

The Massassi put the point of the lanvarok on Relin's chest and pushed him up against the wall.

Relin understood then how things would go. He looked up and down the corridor, saw no one.

With his free hand, the Massassi pinched the comlink on his collar.

"This is Drophan, security detail five. I have a-"

"My superior is Memit Nadill," Relin said.

"Go ahead, Drophan," said the voice from the comlink.

But Relin's words had creased the Massassi's forehead and his fingers released the comlink. "Meruit who? I do not know that name."

"He is a Jedi Master on Kirrek."

"A Jedi what?"

"Say again, Drophan. Your transmission fell off. Say again."

Relin's words finally penetrated the Massassi's armor of incredulity and his yellow eyes widened. He leaned into his lanvarok as his hand went for his blaster.

Relin projected a telekinetic blast from his palm, pushed the Massassi across the corridor, and slammed him against the wall. The impact summoned a gasp of pain and sent the blaster to the floor. The Massassi ignored it, growled, and lunged for Relin with the lanvarok.

Relin ignited his lightsaber and the green blade met red flesh, severing an arm on the crosscut, then the head on the backswing. The Massassi's corpse fell at Relin's feet.

"Report, Drophan," said the voice in the Massassi's comlink.

Relin saw no point in hiding the body. They would know he was aboard soon enough. Deactivating his lightsaber, he sprinted down the hall. He decided to risk a communication.

"Drev?"

"It's thick out here, Master. But I'm holding."

Relin heard the tension in his Padawan's voice. The rumble of a near miss carried through the connection, along with Drev's grunt.

"It's about to get thick in here, too," Relin said. "Not much longer. Rely on the Force, Drev. And hang on."

Saes stalked the bridge, the susurrant rush of his robes loud in the quiet. None of his crew met his eyes. On the viewscreen, the Jedi Infiltrator weaved and darted through space, upward of twelve Blades in pursuit. Laserfire crisscrossed the screen, a net of glowing lines. Frustrated comm chatter from the Blade pilots carried over the bridge speakers.

Saes used the dark side to probe the Infiltrator pilot's connection to the Force and found him more of a potential than a fully realized Force-user, though he was an extraordinarily intuitive pilot.

He could not be alone.

As Saes watched, Blades came at the Infiltrator from two sides and the bottom, a claw encirclement.

"They have him now," muttered a junior officer.

The Jedi cut hard to the left and engaged a booster, blasting one of the Blades from space as he did so, and gained some separation from the rest. Soft curses sounded from the bridge.

"He's heading for another transport," Dor observed.

The Infiltrator wheeled around and the transport pilot took evasive maneuvers but it was far too little. The Infiltrator's lasers spat energy; the transport and its ore turned to dust.

Saes's anger grew. He could not afford to lose any of his ore. Out of habit, he tapped his forefinger on the point of one of his jaw horns.

"Intensify scanning in system," Dor ordered the helm. "This Jedi cannot be alone. More will be coming."

"Yes, Colonel."

Saes ground his fangs as the Infiltrator weaved out of another trap laid for him by the Blades. He glared at the weapons officer, a human male with gray at his temples and concern in his eyes.

"Can you get a lock?"

"No, Captain. The ship has some kind of sensor scrambler. We could blanket an area and bring him down even without a lock, but he's too near our ships." Saes nodded. "Prepare a firing solution to provide a safe corridor for the transports. Transmit it to the Blades' navicomps to keep them clear."

"Yes, Captain."

Saes turned to Dor. "End planetside operations. Order every transport back to Harbinger and Omen. A firing corridor will be provided for them."

"Yes, Captain," said Dor with a nod, and began transmitting the orders.

"Firing solution ready, sir," said the weapons officer.

"Fire," Saes said.

Harbinger's laser cannons put a curtain of flames in space, dividing the Infiltrator and Blades from the transports. The transports took immediate advantage and sped for the landing bays.

"As soon as the transports are aboard, recall the Blades," Saes said to Dor. To his weapons officer, he said, "Then you blow him from space."

"What?" Dor said, and the exclamation turned heads on the bridge. For a moment, Saes thought Dor to be questioning his order, but he soon saw otherwise. The colonel tilted his head into his earpiece. As he listened, his skin turned a deeper red and his tentacle beard quivered with anger. "Double security around all sensitive areas. Establish search teams and comb the ship. Dor out."

"What is it?" Saes asked.

Dor's beard twitched as he leaned in close to Saes and spoke in a low tone. "The body of a security guard was found in the corridor off the landing bay. His arm and head were severed. It appears to have been the work of a lightsaber."

Adrenaline fueled Saes's pheromones, increasing their odor. "A lightsaber," he muttered to himself. "Then the explosion in the bay was not an engine malfunction."

"It appears not."

"We have a Jedi aboard."

A murmur went through the bridge crew. The smell of their sweat sweetened with excitement.

Dor tapped his palm on the hilt of the lanvarok he wore even on bridge duty. "If these Jedi are a vanguard for a larger force… "

Saes nodded. He could not take the chance. Sadow would be displeased with a delay in the delivery of the Lignan. To the helmsman, he said, "Move us out of the planet's gravity well and prepare the ship for hyperspace. Plot a route to Primus Goluud and jump as soon as all our ships are back aboard." To Dor, he said, "You have the bridge."

Dor nodded. "Yes, sir. What are you going to do?"

Saes put his hand on the hilt of his lightsaber. "I am going to retrieve my mask and find our stowaway. A captured Jedi would make a nice gift to accompany the Lignan for Master Sadow."

Relin felt the mental fingers of his one-time Padawan and knew that the dead Massassi's body had been found. Saes was searching for him. Relin resisted the impulse to lower his mental screen and reveal himself. He needed to accomplish his mission, not correct a past wrong.

He hurried through the maze of corridors, using the Force on groups of two or three crew to remove himself from their perception. The crew of Harbinger was on alert, searching for him, and Relin found it increasingly taxing to render himself hidden from them.

Ahead, he heard the heavy tread of boots and the booming bass voices of several Massassi. From the sound of it, he put their numbers at six or seven. Given their alert status and attunement to the dark side, he would not be able to use the Force to hide from them. He checked one of the nearby hatches, found it locked, checked another, found that locked, too.

The voices drew closer. He could not make out their words. They were speaking their native language.

He pulled an overrider-an electronic lockpick-from his suit and attached it to the nearest door's control panel. Lights flashed as the equipment interfaced and the overrider tried to find the door's open code. The Massassi were around the corner. Relin would not get clear in time. He took his lightsaber in hand and ignited it.

The Massassi fell silent. They must have heard him activate his lightsaber.

The overrider flashed green and the door opened with a metallic hiss. Moving quickly, he detached the overrider and slid inside as the Massassi rounded the corner.

A meeting room. A large table surrounded by chairs and dotted with three comp stations sat centermost. A vidscreen, powered down, took up one wall. Transparisteel windows made up the bulkhead, allowing a view of the system outside.

He crouched with his ear to the door, listening to the voices of the Massassi. They sounded like they were right outside, separated from him only by a thin layer of metal, talking in hushed tones. He winced as his comlink activated and Drev spoke.

"The transports are returning to the landing bay and both dreadnoughts are moving, Master."

Relin heard laserfire in the background of Drev's transmission, but his mind was on the Massassi in the corridor outside.

"Stand by," he whispered. "Stand by."

The voices outside went silent. Had they heard Drev? A human would not have been able to hear the comlink transmission, but Massassi had keener senses than humans. Relin sat behind the door, lightsaber humming in his hand, the calm of the Force in his heart, waiting, waiting…

Nothing.

He glanced back out of the meeting room windows to see the background of stars shifting slightly as the ship moved away from Phaegon III and its gravity well.

"They are preparing to jump," he said to Drev. He had to get to the hyperdrive, and now.

"Get off that ship, Master, or you'll go with them."

"There is still time." He pushed the button to open the hatch. "I'm near the hyperdrive chamber and-"

He found himself staring at the uniformed chest of a Massassi security officer, who held his lanvarok in one hand. The bone spurs and studs under the Massassi's red flesh gave it a tumorous appearance.

"Here!" the Massassi shouted down the hall. Roaring, he swung his lanvarok in a downstroke for Relin's head, but Relin sidestepped the blow and it slammed into the deck while Relin drove his lightsaber through the Massassi's abdomen. The Massassi groaned, dropped his weapon. His clawed hands groped reflexively for Relin's throat as he died.

Shouts from down the hall told Relin the dead Massassi's comrades had heard his call. He took a thermal grenade from his flexsuit, stepped out of the room, and tossed it down the corridor at the onrushing Massassi, each with a blaster and lanvarok bare. Recognition of what he had thrown widened their eyes and they dived for cover, but not before one of them got off a blaster shot.

Relin deflected it with his lightsaber and ducked back into the room he had vacated as the grenade exploded.

Flames bathed the corridor in orange. The Massassi's screams were lost in the explosion and the shock wave rattled Relin's teeth. Alarms shrieked, and fire foam hissed out of valves in the ceiling.

Relin heard shouts from the other direction and the stomp of many boots. The ship's entire security force would be coming. As would Saes. He had to move.

He drew his blaster with his off hand and pelted down the hall, past the bodies of the Massassi, toward the hyperdrive chamber. The time for stealth was past.

A pair of Massassi appeared in the hallway before him, both with blasters drawn. Before they could shoot, Relin dropped one with a shot from his own blaster, opening a smoking hole in the Massassi's black uniform and sending the insignia of rank on his chest skittering across the floor. The second Massassi fired his blaster rapidly while shouting for aid and backing away.

Relin closed the distance, deflecting the blaster shots with his lightsaber as he ran, leaving a trail of scorch marks in his wake along the wall and ceiling. At five paces the Massassi tried to draw his lanvarok, but Relin lunged forward and was upon him too fast. The clean hum of his lightsaber gave way to a muffled sizzle as he cut the Massassi in two.

He did not slow, could not slow. Shouts told him that pursuit was right behind him. Alarms were sounding all over the ship. When he reached a thick blast door, an idea struck him and he drove his lightsaber's tip into the control panel. The circuitry expired with smoke and sparks and the blast door descended with a boom. He assumed his pursuers would be able to go around, but it might buy him a few extra moments.

Drawing on the Force, he enhanced his speed and ran in a blur for the hyperdrive chamber.

The young helmsman did not look up from his screen as he spoke to Dor. "Colonel, we are clear of the gravity well. System scans show no additional Jedi ships."

Dor nodded. "Begin the jump sequence."

As the helmsman obeyed, the weapons officer said, "All Blades are returned to the ship, Colonel Dor."

Dor heard the question hiding behind the comment. "The Infiltrator remains in range?"

"Yes, Colonel."

Dor stroked the tentacles of his beard. "You have until we jump to destroy it."

The helm recited the jump sequence countdown. The weapons officer gave the order to the gun crews to fire at will.

Eight Massassi warriors armed with blaster rifles and lanvaroks loitered in the large open room adjacent to the hyperdrive chamber. The quills, lumps, and scars that scored their red flesh made them look deformed.

Relin slowed only long enough to count their numbers and ensure there were no others. He did not bother to hide himself. They were too alert for that. They saw him, pointed, showed their teeth in a growl. Six pulled their blaster rifles to their shoulders to fire while another spoke into his comlink and the last headed for a wall-mounted alarm.

Without breaking stride, Relin held up a hand, took telekinetic hold of the blaster rifles aimed at him, ripped them from the Massassi's hands, and flung them across the large chamber. One fired when it hit the deck, and the shot blew the booted foot from one of the Massassi. He fell to the floor, cursing in his language, the ruins of his ankle leaking black fluid.

Relin fired his blaster and put a fist-sized hole in the back of the skull of the Massassi about to push the wall alarm. Black blood and brain matter splattered the wall as the body slid to the floor.

"Run," he said to the remaining Massassi.

The six still standing grinned mouthfuls of sharp teeth-the teeth of predators-and drew their lanvaroks, spun them with skill until they hummed. Relin knew what was coming next. He would have to take care that his suit did not get damaged.

As one, the Massassi jerked back on their lanvaroks. A shower of the sharpened disks attached to the haft, each a few centimeters across, sprayed at Relin. Ready for it, he used the Force to augment an upward leap over the projectiles and reached almost all the way to the ceiling, ten meters up. All but one of the disks flew harmlessly under him. The last scored his forearm, but it was little more than a scratch and did not seem to penetrate his suit.

He landed in a crouch, lightsaber blazing. "I said run."

The largest said, "We are six to your one, Jedi. With more coming."

Relin tilted his head, holstered his blaster, and took his lightsaber in both hands.

Through the large double doors behind the Massassi, Relin heard the hyperdrive hum with pre-jump preparation. Pressure built on his eardrums. The hairs on his arms stood on end. He had no time to waste.

"You will be fewer than six in a moment. Flee now. Final chance."

They lost their smiles but not their fire, and charged him in a loose arc, roaring. He charged them in silence, focused, the Force surging through his muscles.

When he'd closed to two paces, he bounded over them, flipping in midair and decapitating one as he landed behind their line. By the time they spun to face him, he'd put his lightsaber through a second.

Sidestepping the downward slash of a lanvarok from a third Massassi, he cut the metal weapon in half, ducked under a crosscut from another; and severed both legs of the nearest Massassi. He backflipped out of range, the screams of the dying loud in his ears.

The large Massassi put his lanvarok in the skull of the other whose legs Relin had severed, ending the screams, then all three remaining snarled and charged.

Relin threw his lightsaber at the first, impaling him through the neck. Surprise slowed the others a moment, and Relin took advantage of the reprieve to use the Force to pull his weapon back into his hands.

They licked their fangs, bounced on their feet, and charged anew.

He met their advance with his own, ducking, spinning, wheeling, slashing, killing. They could not match his speed, his skill, and within a five-count, pieces of the Massassi and their weapons dotted the bloody deck. All were dead but the one wounded on the foot by the blaster.

"You must gift me with death, too, Jedi," the wounded Massassi snarled. "This." He gestured at his wounded foot. "I will be as a child."

Relin stared at him with contempt. He knew the Massassi had been bred as warriors, but their carelessness with their own lives sickened him. "We all live with ourselves."

"Not like this! Kill me. I demand it."

The Massassi crawled toward a blaster rifle, leaving a line of smeared blood in his wake.

"As you'll have it, then," Relin said, and put a blaster shot in his skull.

Deactivating his lightsaber, still centered in the calm of the Force, he turned to the doors. Body and mind tingled with fatigue, but he endured. Behind the door, energy gathered around the hyperdrive. He could feel the change in the air. The dreadnoughts would jump soon. He would not be able to stop Omen, but at least he could stop Harbinger.

He slipped the overrider over the control panel and hoped it would work quickly. Lights and beeps signified the beginning of the cryptographic holo-chess match. Relin could do nothing but wait. Despite the urgency of the moment, he put his back to the door, sat cross-legged on the floor, stared out and over a chamber of dead Massassi, and held his calm.

Several corridors opened into the chamber, and Relin heard shouts down two of them. They were coming. The realization did nothing to disturb his calm. Taking comfort in his relationship to the Force, he held the hilt of his lightsaber in his hand, felt the coolness of its metal, studied its lines, recalled its making.

A long beep signaled the overrider's victory.

"Checkmate," Relin said, standing.

The hyperdrive chamber's doors parted. Dry, warm air swarmed out. The gathering energy in the chamber created extreme static electricity. Relin's hair stood on end. Insects seemed to crawl over his flesh. His robes clung to him as if trying to prevent him from entering.

The rectangular metal block of the hyperdrive hung in the center of the room from ceiling mounts and a series of power conduits as thick as Relin's arm. A large, disk-shaped concavity in the floor yawned underneath it, the open mouth into which the drive fed its power. Circuitry crisscrossed the hyperdrive's face, the circulatory system of interstellar travel.

A transparisteel window on the far side of the chamber opened onto an adjoining room. A pair of wide-eyed human engineers in the black uniforms of Sadow's forces pointed at him, shouted something, and reached frantically for communicators. Relin used a telekinetic blast to slam both men against the far wall and they slumped to the floor, out of sight.

Relin had seen a hyperdrive bisected once for engineers to study. The complexity of the circuitry, the odd geometry of its inner workings, had left him nauseous. And now that complexity, that geometry, began to do its work. Machinery clicked, connected, turned. The power conduits squirmed like snakes as more energy coursed through them. The hum increased in volume. Relin felt light-headed. Radiation filled the room, he knew. He would need treatment for radiation poisoning if he survived.

If.

He placed a hand on the hyperdrive. The metal felt warm, as slick as talc. It pulsed like a living thing, seeming to shift, to flow under his touch. A headache rooted in his left temple, intensified. His stomach flirted with nausea.

He removed three of his mag-grenades from the pocket of his flexsuit, attached two of them to the face of the hyperdrive, a third to the main power conduit connection. He checked his chrono to mark the time and rapidly set the timers.

The grenades began ticking away the remaining moments of Harbinger's existence.

He turned for the door, activating his communicator. "Charges are set. Heading out now, Drev."

"Understood. The Blades have cleared out. Perhaps I have frightened them."

Relin heard the beginning of a smile in his tone.

Drev went on: "I am alone out here. Well, except for the two hulking dreadnoughts bristling with weapons."

Relin stood amid the Massassi he had slaughtered. "Jump out of the system. With their ships clear, the cannons may fire."

"They're preparing for a jump, Master. They won't risk firing."

"They may. Jump out, Drev."

"I am not leaving you."

"Jump, Drev. That is an order."

"No."

Relin cocked his head. "No?"

"I'm not leaving, Master. Both ships are in jump prep. Neither will risk firing."

Relin shook his head, incredulous at his Padawan's stand. "You are leaving. Harbinger will not be able to jump, but Omen will. There's nothing we can do about that now. But we can warn Odan-Urr and Mernit Nadill about the ore and what it can do. That is your task."

"No, I won't. We go together or not at all."

Relin lost his calm for the first time since coming aboard the dreadnought.

"You will do it and do it now. That is a direct order."

"You're breaking up, Master."

"Blast it, Drev! You heard-"

"Understood, Master. I will get in close, scrape the surface of the ship. The laser cannons from Omen will not be able to engage me there, and for Harbinger it will be like using a club to swat a fly. Get to an escape pod and we'll dock. Out. And they won't fire anyway. Out, again."

The link went quiet. "Drev? Drev?"

His Padawan did not respond.

"Blast!"

"You have a way of losing your Padawans," said a coarse voice behind him, a voice that Relin still heard in the quiet, solitary moments of his life when he had only his failures for company.

"Saes." The word came out a curse, and Relin accompanied its pronunciation with the sizzling sound that came with activation of his lightsaber.

The Sith entered from the same corridor Relin had used. He wore the loose browns and blacks favored by dark side users. The red blade of his lightsaber filled the space between them. His scaly, reddish brown skin was the color of blood. He strode among the scattered Massassi parts that littered the bloody floor of the chamber, his eye ridge cocked, a sneer curling his lip over one of the small horns that jutted from the side of his jaw. His long hair, bound into a rope with bone circlets, hung to his waist.

"I should have known it was you on my ship. Who else but a Jedi? Who else but Relin Druur? I learned such things from you." He shook his head, poked a Massassi corpse with a toe. "It seems long ago now."

"You destroyed every life-form on that moon. You learned nothing from me."

Saes laughed, the sound fat with contempt. "I learned much from you, but it was not what you sought to teach. You should not have come here, Relin. But then you always were the fool."

"There are many things I should not have done."

Saes's eyes narrowed at that.

Shouts carried from three of the corridors that opened onto the chamber.

Relin said, "Your servants will arrive soon."

Saes raised a clawed hand and the blast doors closed, one after another, blocking the corridors from which Relin had heard the sounds of pursuit.

"This is between us, and is long overdue. Do you agree?"

They approached each other, circled at four paces, lightsabers blazing. Saes was the taller between them, the physically stronger, but Relin was faster.

"I do."

Relin's chrono continued its countdown. Thirty-three seconds.

"I have missed your company from time to time," Saes said, and Relin heard sincerity in the words.

"You have chosen a lonely path, Saes. It is never too late to turn away."

Saes smiled around his horns, an expression that did not reach his eyes, and the hollowness of the expression reminded Relin of the gulf between the natures of his first Padawan and his second.

"You have chosen the lonely path. The Jedi teach denial of self. That is their weakness. No sentient can long abide that. The Sith embrace the self, and therein lies their strength."

"You understand so little," Relin said. "The Jedi teach the interdependence of life. The understanding that all is connected."

A flash of anger animated Saes's eyes, and he spit at Relin's feet. "A lie. You tried to steal what is best in me, to make me as empty as you."

Relin sneered, but Saes bored deeper.

"When is the last time you felt anything with passion? When is the last time you laughed, Relin? Felt a woman's touch? When?"

The words cut close to bone, echoing, as they did, Relin's own thoughts about his training of Drev.

Saes must have seen it in Relin's expression. "Ah, I see you've thought of these matters yourself. And you were right to think them. It is never too late for you to learn wisdom. Join me, Relin. I will present you to Master Sadow myself."

"I think not," Relin said.

"Very well," Saes answered. He reached down to a pouch at his belt. "May I?"

Relin knew what he would draw forth and nodded.

Saes removed a white memory mask from the pouch, placed it before his face. It adhered, shaping itself into a likeness of the skull of an erkush, one of the largest predators on Kalee.

"You used to wear a mask of real bone," Relin said.

"I reserve that now for only special prey," Saes said, and attacked.