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Jax leapt after the boy, blade upraised—only to be lassoed by another energy lash from Vader.

twenty-eight

No.

It could not end like this. His chance—his one chance of experiencing the Force, wasted.

Wasted.

Rhinann didn’t understand what had happened or why the bota hadn’t affected Vader the way the Dark Lord had obviously expected it to—the way any of them had expected it to. The Sith Lord had not become the exponentially augmented, god-like being of supreme control that the rumors of the bota’s properties had suggested. He had become instead an unstable locus of power, spitting out death and destruction.

And now, with Jax Pavan and Kaj Savaros tethered to him with chains of unbreakable energy, Vader backed toward the shattered control room window, showing every intention of destroying the Jedi and the boy.

Such a paltry use of that stupendous gift.

Rhinann could no longer bear it. “It should have been mine!” he shrieked, and hurled himself from his hiding place directly at the Dark Lord.

He had nothing but brute strength on his side, but he knew the weaknesses of his ex-master’s person. Vader’s energy was now totally focused on Jax and the boy. Rhinann shot toward him and battered at Vader’s breathing apparatus with clenched fists, trying desperately to damage it.

The move, unanticipated and unexpected as it was, distracted Vader. He lost his Force grip on both Jax and Kaj and took several steps away from the Elomin, teetering on the brink of the broken window.

It was a long fall, and Rhinann suspected that was where his life would end, but he no longer cared. He ripped at the chest plate with clawed hands, shrieking his anguish again and again. “It was mine! It was mine!”

He felt Vader’s hands close around his neck and looked up to see his own ravaged face reflected in the obsidian mask. “You stole my life,” Rhinann gasped as the fingers tightened. “I shall have yours in payment.”

He lunged; they toppled over the broken sill together, tumbling into the cavernous space beyond. Rhinann never felt the impact. He attained his experience with the Force for one brief, shining moment, feeling an echo of it gust through him as it reduced him to dust.

The control room was silent but for the sound of labored breathing and Kaj’s whimpers. There was movement behind him; Jax felt hands touching him, lifting him up. Laranth’s hands and I-Five’s good one. He clung to them and let them right him, then nodded at Kaj, who lay huddled on the floor nearby.

There was a babble of sound then as the rescuers flooded the room with bustling intent. I-Five turned to face Den, who was hovering behind him holding a blaster rifle that was almost as big as he was.

“Do you even know how to use that thing?” the droid asked.

Den looked down at it. “Well, I’m not sure. Shall I point it at your thick metal skull and find out?”

“It’s good to see you, too,” I-Five said softly.

“Likewise.” The Sullustan peered closely at the damaged droid. “Isn’t that the same arm that Wookiee pulled off when you were drunk on Drongar?”

“Hold on,” said Jax, feeling a sudden tension in the atmosphere of the place. He glanced about, seeking the fallen Inquisitor, Tesla. He had vanished.

Not good.

A cataclysmic burst of Force energy from the hangar floor threw the dimmest recesses of the control room into blinding brilliance. The entire building rocked.

“Out! Get out!” Jax dodged a piece of falling ceiling plate and glanced around for his lightsaber. It might be a Sith blade, but it was all he had right now. He saw it lying on the blasted floor. Next to it lay the pyronium crystal Vader had taken. Jax whipped out taut threads of Force energy and called both objects to his hands. Then he sprinted for the open doors as the chamber disintegrated about him.

twenty-nine

Den and I-Five, in the manner of old and comfortable friends, easily fell back into their accustomed, seemingly dysfunctional relationship. I-Five teased Den about returning. Den accused the droid of being feckless and inept