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“They’ll find themselves following an ouroboros circuit with which they’ll never quite catch up.” The droid put the bolt on the floor, aimed an index finger at it, and melted it into unrecognizable slag. Then he turned to gaze speculatively at the unconscious Dejah. “It would appear that her plans to leave Coruscant will have to be postponed.”

“It’s Imperial Center now, remember?”

I-Five’s vocabulator produced a sound remarkably like a disdainful sniff. “I’m a droid. I don’t make mistakes.”

“I doubt any passing stormtroopers or Inquisitors would agree.”

“As your father once said: no matter what they call it, it’s still just an overbuilt, overpriced ball of rock.”

Jax went quiet, the mention of his father turning him suddenly introspective. After a while, I-Five was moved to ask, “Does it upset you when your father is mentioned?”

“No. But it does make me wonder at times how he would react to my choice of lifestyle. To the decisions I’ve made.”

The droid moved a little closer. “All too many of those choices and decisions have been foisted on you, Jax. I knew Lorn Pavan better than anyone, and I think he would have been quite proud of you.”

Jax looked up. “I thought he hated the Jedi.”

“He did. But only because they took you from him. He wouldn’t have hated you for becoming one. I think he would have approved of the choices you’ve made—most of them, anyway. Especially your decision to stay here and aid the Whiplash. Lorn admired courage. Particularly the courage to stand up for one’s convictions.”

Jax’s expression was unreadable. “I almost quit, you know.”

I-Five projected mild surprise.

“It was months ago. I was packing my kit, ready to dust. Then Nick Rostu told me about what happened to Master Piell.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t leave after hearing that. Certainly not until I’d completed his last mission.”

“Which you did, to the best of your ability. So tell me: what’s stopping you from leaving now?”

“It will never be finished,” Jax told him. “Defeat the Emperor and Vader, and liberate the galaxy? The idea defines craziness. I should get out now, while there’s still a transport berth with my name on it.”

“I believe Den would agree with you,” the droid replied. “Vociferously.”

“No doubt.” Jax sighed. “And yet …”

“You can’t.”

“You know me so well.”

“I know humans so well. I know your kind with an intimacy that only an outsider can achieve. I’ve seen humanity at its most selfless and noble—and at its most base and ignoble. It can be quite a range. That’s why it doesn’t surprise me at all that you remain here to continue the fight for what you insist is a lost cause. If presented with that choice, I knew from the day I met you which one you would make.”

“Is that so?” Jax looked about him; at the garish holo-ads on the walls and the various species toking, imbibing, or otherwise altering their brain chemistry in pursuit of congenial oblivion. He suddenly felt very tired. “Which choice was that?”

“The right one,” the droid said.

Aurra Sing awoke disoriented, angry, and possessed of a throbbing headache in the ruins of the Jedi Temple. Her baffling opponent was long gone, which was no surprise. What was surprising was that she was still alive.

A guarded inspection of her immediate surroundings confirmed that she was indeed alone. Her opponent, Captain Typho of Naboo, had no doubt fled, taking with him one of her lightsabers. Even in the throes of her fury, Sing had to admit that she was impressed. He had tricked her most cleverly, lulling her into vulnerability and then using her own prosthetic against her. She had briefly succumbed to the worst enemy someone in her profession could face: over-confidence. That accepted, she still had to give the man his due. He was resourceful as well as skilled.

Good. A challenging enemy was a worthwhile enemy. She would enjoy tracking him down.

But such enjoyment would have to wait until she first completed her primary task: the capture of Jax Pavan for Lord Vader. She had