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Too late, he grasped the trooper’s strategy. The object he held was a luma grenade, and the man had no intention of throwing it. Instead he simply activated it and let it fall to his feet. Before Even could shield or even close his eyes, the sphere dissolved in a blinding burst of actinic light that washed away the world.

The stormtroopers were wearing polarized lenses as part of their headgear. The light didn’t dazzle them at all. They could see Even, and he could see nothing but the glare of his scorched retinas.

Still, they were fools to think that this made any difference. A Jedi could “see” through the Force with better vision than any set of eyes. Even backpedaled, weaving the lightsaber in a warding pattern that blocked the barrage of energy bolts they had loosed at him, as he reached out with the Force and let it do what his shocked vision couldn’t. But even as he wondered at their naïveté, another object hurtled at him. The pattern of ripples it made in the Force told him it was another small, round object, most likely another grenade—and this one, he sensed, was impact-sensitive. If he blocked it with his lightsaber, it would probably detonate. Even raised his hand to deflect the sphere with a Force push—

And one of the stormtroopers fired another blaster bolt, but not at him. The energy pulse struck the grenade arcing toward him, and detonated it.

He’d been sucker-punched, Even realized. The luma had been meant to distract him, to let them get inside his guard with their real attack. The shock wave hammered him, lifting him and hurling him back. He collided against a support column with a terrible impact. The Force had protected him from immediate vaporization, but the pillar had been a surprise. He felt his bones snap and his organs burst when he hit the unforgiving fiberplast.

He was not aware of his scream.

Dimly, as from a great distance, he felt the Force roil in sudden turmoil, like a placid pond struck suddenly by a stone. He could hear shouts of surprise from his enemies, could hear other blasters, the crackle of their discharges pitched slightly differently from those of the stormtroopers. With his last, fading spark of awareness, Even Piell realized that help had arrived.

Too late.

Nick heard the scream as he and his comrades burst into what looked like an ancient casino. He saw, perhaps half a dozen meters away, a small, crumpled form at the base of a pillar. Nearby, five stormtroopers were already firing at the newcomers. The first shots went wide, but their surprise would be over in a moment, and then they would cook Nick and his team where they stood.

“Take ’em!” Nick shouted as he leapt forward, drawing his blaster and the troopers’ fire. He hit the floor, rolling under a salvo of bolts, and came up on one knee with the weapon extended. A blast from the nearest stormtrooper’s weapon scorched the tiles where he had been, but Nick gritted his teeth and ignored it. He squeezed off a blast of his own, and one of the troopers was hurled back. His armor protected him from anything except a point-blank hit at maximum power, but the impact would leave him stunned for a time.

In the background Nick could hear the blasterfire between the remaining troopers and his men, but all his attention was focused on that small form lying so utterly still on the floor. Nick recognized him.

Even Piell.

Nick rushed to the Jedi’s side, but saw immediately that there was nothing he could do. It was obvious that Master Piell had massive internal injuries and, judging by the unnatural angles of his limbs, many broken bones as well. And, as if things weren’t bad enough, from the way his back and pelvis were twisted, Nick figured his spine had probably snapped.

He’d seen many an atrocity on various planetary battlefields—soldiers with limbs blown off, or perforated by shrapnel, or partly immolated—it was a long list, and one he most definitely did not want to inventory right now. But he’d seldom seen such havoc