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“Understand me, tin man. If you do not release the bota to me, I will force you to watch as I destroy Jax Pavan and Laranth Tarak. There will be nothing left for you to protect.”

There was a strange psychic reverberation that seemed to come from everywhere at once. In the wake of it, Jax felt Laranth’s mental touch and glanced at her. Vader had released her from the grip in which he’d held her and she was staring at Jax fixedly. When his gaze met hers she made a subtle gesture, her eyes dipping toward the tip of her right lekku, which, lying over her shoulder, nudged the belt at the waist of her tunic.

He understood the message immediately—she had the bota. Laranth was I-Five’s secret accomplice. Which made perfect sense. She was accessible to the team but no longer part of it, and she was, of all Jax’s associates, the most completely trustworthy.

Jax’s mind scrambled for an epiphany. Holding Laranth’s gaze, he gave her the tiniest nod and a little nudge with the Force.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Jax opened his mouth to speak when a force like a giant invisible fist struck him and hurled him back against the wall. He was pinned there, spitted, while every nerve ending in his body exploded and burst into flame. A scream was wrenched from his throat before he could stop it.

“Stop it!” Laranth snarled at Vader. “I have the bota!”

Vader let Jax go, and he collapsed to the floor in a heap. He lay against the wall, watching as Vader relieved Laranth of her shackles and dropped the shield. The Twi’lek reached down to a pocket on her belt and removed the skinpopper containing the single dose of bota extract. She held it out to Vader.

He took it and reactivated her cell in one fluid movement. Caught once more in the field, Laranth was slammed to the floor.

Again, Jax felt that peculiar quiver of dread in the Force, but had no time to question it. Vader had moved to stand over him.

“And now, if you would return the pyronium …”

There was no sense in prevaricating. If he pretended not to have it, Vader would simply turn him inside out and take it. He reached into the Inquisitor’s cloak, fielded it from the inner pocket of his vest, and handed it over.

“And lastly, the Sith Holocron.” Again, Vader held out a gloved hand.

Jax shook his head. “I don’t have it.”

“He’s telling the truth,” I-Five interjected quickly. “Jax gave that to another member of our team who is … no longer with us.”

“Oh yes, the Sullustan muckraker. Where is he?”

“On his way to his homeworld by now, I should think.”

The gloved hand clenched into a fist, making Jax steel himself for the continued flaying of his nerves. He was surprised when Vader simply shrugged off the inconvenience, as if the Sith Holocron were of little importance.

Of course, Jax’s epiphany could be pure wishful thinking. His assumption that Vader would need the holocron to tell him how to use the power of the pyronium might be a false one. He thought Vader a man of supreme hubris, but who knew—maybe he was merely confident and would simply know how to use the pyronium once he had an unfettered connection to the Force.

Jax glanced at Dejah. Her face was that of a zealot in the throes of meditative rapture. Rhinann, too, seemed utterly focused on Darth Vader as the Dark Lord looked down at the two items in his hands.

“You can have no conception of what you have given me,” he told Jax. His tone was exultant. “The bota will purify and exponentially increase my connection to the Force, a transformation that will be maintained and strengthened by the energy latent in the pyronium. The Sith Holocron contained instructions written long ago by Darth Ramage, a Sith scientist, which would have been a useful addition to the combination, but not essential. I will simply have to divine what the connection is between these two forces.”

“How did you find out I had them?” Jax asked. He picked himself up off the floor with some care, his nerve endings still feeling the sting of remembered agony.

“I knew you had come into possession of one of the items—and when I traced the