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Jax nodded, thinking. Though the majority of Jedi had been slaughtered by the clones offworld, there had still been a respectable garrison at the Temple when Anakin Skywalker had initiated his one-man pogrom. Furthermore, Jax knew that Palpatine had ordered their weapons destroyed. If Rhinann was right, the troopers had been most thorough.

Laranth said to the Elomin, “You’re patently wrong in one instance. Darth Vader still carries one.”

“Vader’s a Sith,” Jax said before the Elomin could respond. “Or so gossip has it. I think it’s true. It’s the only way to explain his proficiency with both the lightsaber and the Force.” His expression fell. “It would appear that you all were right. I’m not meant to have one.”

“Being a Jedi is more than just having a lightsaber,” Laranth pointed out. “Through the use of the Force one can become proficient in other modes of fighting that are almost as effective.”

“I know.” Jax looked away. “It’s just that I never really had a choice. I had only just graduated to full-fledged Jedi Knighthood when Order Sixty-six was implemented. After that, my life was all about survival. A big part of that was keeping my head down and not using the Force.” He offered a wry smile. “I’ve really only had the opportunity to use it once in a life-or-death battle, against Prince Xizor. And the irony is that he had the lightsaber and I was reduced to using a lightwhip.”

“Not to mention a somewhat sputtery connection to the Force,” Den added.

“Unless you have some reason for my continuing to pursue this chimerical task, I shall consider it settled. I have other matters to which I must attend.” The Elomin’s sepulchral voice said quite clearly that, as far as he was concerned, the subject was closed.

Then to his surprise, Jax heard Den say, “Wait a minute.”

As he listened to his own mouth forming words seemingly independent of his brain, Den was somewhat taken aback by what he found himself saying. He was also a little nervous. It had happened before, this disconnect between his tongue and his head. It was as if the former was ruled by a semi-autonomous sub-brain, like one of the Cephalon’s appendages. The results were seldom good.

“Wait a minute,” he heard himself saying. “I’m sure Rhinann has done an exemplary job trying to locate a lightsaber. But there’s more than one way to gut a gokob.”

“How colorful,” I-Five said.

Den ignored him. “I was a reporter once, remember? A good one, back in the day. I can track a story over bare rock in a monsoon.”

The droid clicked two metal fingers together. “There is a point to all this, I presume? The organics in the room aren’t getting any younger.”

“Neither is your humor.” Den looked at Jax. “If you really feel that getting your own lightsaber will help you function more effectively, then let me see what I can find out.”

Rhinann gave him an opaque stare. “What makes you think that you can succeed where I did not?”

Den raised pacifying hands. “Hey, no offense, but I just have a feeling about this, y’know? Maybe it’ll lead to something, maybe not. Either way, it’s no hair off your ears.”

“That’s enough,” Jax interrupted. “Den, if you’re serious about this, you’re welcome to have a crack at it, but in your spare time. Our first priority is finding Volette’s killer, and I need your fabled search-and-find abilities working on that foremost.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Den settled back in his chair. He still wasn’t quite certain why he had volunteered to take on this extra task, although one reason was self-evident: he didn’t like Rhinann. The tall, saturnine biped could bring the mood of any group crashing down faster than the gravity well of a neutron star. Besides, he hadn’t flexed that particular set of muscles in quite a while. It would be a worthwhile diversion.

As long as he didn’t let his inquiries bring him too close to Vader’s orbit …

“We had no real friends,” the sad-eyed Zeltron was saying. “Just acquaintances and professional associates. We hadn’t