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He smiled grimly, a strange mixture of relief and exhilaration flooding him with warmth. Once again he had barely avoided detection; once again he had eluded the Emperor’s minions. He had a swift vision of himself as a much-sought-after prize. A shadowy rogue Force-sensitive dancing on the fringes of society, always one step ahead of the Inquisitorius and its frustrated operatives. He could almost see himself leaping between the sky-raking buildings, flitting along ledges—an elusive silhouette. A powerful possessor of the Force.

A Jedi.

A sudden, almost overwhelming surge of anger arose in Kaj’s breast to swamp his relief and drown his self-congratulatory daydreams. Once, in a more enlightened age, he would have become a Jedi and been instructed in the ways of the Force, honing his relatively newborn skills—skills that had fully awakened only this past year. But the Jedi Temple lay in ruins, and the Order had been scattered all across the galaxy—if there were any left alive. He alternately hoped for and despaired of that … and raged at the universe and the Force itself.

He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the seething anger that burned through his veins.

No. There are no Jedi left, he told himself. I’m alone. Alone.

Alone with this power that grew inside him, demanding to be used. He both gloried in it and was terrified of it. Especially in moments like these, when resentful rage burned in him. A rage that had no target at which to vent itself—except, perhaps, the Inquisitors. He hated and feared those shadowy beings, but it was not safe to attract them—not safe to target them with his anger. So Kaj’s rage remained directionless, aimed at no one—and everyone. He held it tightly to him, because to give in to it, to allow it to escape his careful control, would be as good as sending up a giant flare that said to the Inquisitors, Come get me!

Kaj stepped out of the street as a hover-lorry approached, sucking himself tightly up against a stained and pitted support girder that had been erected to shore up the ruined façade of what had once been a gaming parlor.

A tug of awareness made itself felt through the coils of control he struggled to maintain. He tilted his head up and glanced across the way. A man—a human—was staring at him from the dark, crooked doorway of the building opposite.

Before he could think better of it, Kaj erased the man’s memory of him, using the Force to slide into the other’s mind and rearrange his thoughts. He’d never attempted such a thing before, but it was easier by far than he’d expected it to be.

He scooted sideways and insinuated himself into a mixed group of aliens as the hover-lorry blocked his view of the staring man. With just a little more effort, he knew he could have made the other step out in front of the vehicle. It would have been easy.

Too easy.

He shuddered, put his head down, and immersed himself in the crowd.

Den Dhur stumbled sleepily into the central room of the conapt, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. When his vision cleared, the sight that met him stopped him dead in his tracks. In frozen tableau he saw Jax, I-Five, and a strange Sakiyan standing just inside the open front doorway. I-Five was pointing at the Sakiyan as if delivering a lecture … which was what one might think if one didn’t know about the specialized lasers built into each of the droid’s forefingers.

Den knew about them, however.

He shook himself more thoroughly awake, resisting the temptation to rub his eyes a second time. Had I-Five fried a circuit? And what the frip was Jax thinking? This guy could be a potential customer—this was no way to treat a potential customer.

“Uh,” Den said. “Guys? Who’s our new friend?”

The droid’s photoreceptors blinked in a gesture so alive that Den batted his own eyes before he could resist the urge.

Jax cleared his throat. “I-Five?”

The droid made a sound like a human sigh and lowered his arm. “I’ve obviously been around organics too long—I’ve picked up some bad habits. Such as holding grudges.”