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“Oh, good,” Den said as they started walking again. “Because for a minute there I was worried that we might not arrive in one of the meanest cesspits of the galaxy totally destitute.”

His small bag packed with all his worldly possessions—and still more than half empty—Jax turned to open the door. He was already regretting the few moments he’d spent thinking about the past. Time was of the essence if he wanted to get out of here before—

He stopped, staring at the portal’s handle. Dark, weblike strands were entwining themselves rapidly around it. Strands that seemed to recede through the door, down the hall, and wrap around—

Jax backed away from the door, thinking rapidly. He was well and truly trapped—the cell he had been calling home was barely three meters by two, and windowless. The outside wall was ten centimeters of solid ferrocrete—not even his lightsaber could burn through it in time.

According to the threads of Force reverberating in his mind, there were at least five stormtroopers coming for him—possibly more. In only a few minutes they’d be through the door, and he’d be dead.

Where had they come from? Even as the question arose, Jax knew the answer. Rokko had evidently wasted no time in acting on the information his bullyboys had given him. He had no doubt contacted the local garrison and reported Jax to be a Jedi.

Jax shook his head, amazed at the corruption of a regime that would take the word of a known criminal as indiction of a fugitive Jedi.

It wasn’t something he had time to think about now. Not with five troopers coming for him.

Let them come.

The voice speaking those words was quite clear: his own inner voice, but no less distinct for that. It was as if someone stood right behind him, whispering into his ear. He almost turned around to see if, in fact, anyone was there.

Let them come, the voice said again. Let them kill you. Why not? How is the life you live now any better than death? Your Order, your people, your purpose, have already been destroyed. Nothing can change that. The only smart thing to do is to join them.

Let them come. Let them kill you. It’ll be quick. It will be painless.

Jax shook his head fiercely. “No,” he growled, as if the seductive voice were an actual entity tempting him. He didn’t know where this sudden existential urge had come from, but he would not give in to it.

There is no emotion; there is peace.

It was the first tenet of the Jedi Code. Jax whispered it to himself. No matter how dark the hour seemed, he would not give in to despair. He looked back at the door—

And stared in disbelief.

The threads of Force that were his unique way of connecting with it were gone. Just for an instant, his link with the Force seemed to flicker. Then it was back, and he felt the familiar suffusion cover and permeate him. The flicker was gone; it had happened so quickly that he wasn’t certain he’d experienced anything out of the ordinary at all.

Jax reached into his coat’s inner pocket and pulled out his lightsaber. He thumbed it on and watched the shaft of pure blue energy lance from the hilt. He settled into a fighting stance, legs planted firmly, low and wide, with the lightsaber gripped in both hands and held ready. Yes, he thought. I’ll let them come. And there will be killing done this night.

nine

Darth Vader stepped forward into the middle of the room. His boots made soft sounds on the carpet; his cloak whispered slightly as it flowed around him. Other than that, the only sound in the room was the regular susurrus of his respirator mask. It was a sound Rhinann often heard in his nightmares. The armor seemed to draw light into it, somehow; to leach color and brightness from the chamber. It was a color beyond black. Lord Vader surveyed Rhinann, his helmet’s smooth, insectile orbs undoubtedly reading far more than any normal eyes could. Rhinann felt his generative nodes pucker in a fear response.

“Your report, Rhinann, if you please.”

The voice was rich, deep, mellifluous; the words unfailingly polite, as always. There would seem to be nothing overtly threatening