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With those chilling words, Thi Xon Yimmon ended his transmission.

Rhinann lifted his arms in a gesture of dismay. “We’ll come at once? May I remind you—”

Jax was already on his way to the lift. “I-Five and I will go. You contact Sal. Let him know what’s happened. Tell him … tell him things have changed. Our assassination plot just became a rescue operation.”

twenty-four

Kaj woke from a nightmare to find himself lying in an elegant yet spartan room. His head hurt, his vision was blurred, and he had no memory of coming here.

Cold panic shot through him then, from top to bottom. He had no memory of anything, beyond his name. He was Kajin Savaros. Beyond that, his past was a void.

He looked around the room. The walls were soft, deep blue-gray, the sparse furniture black.

He listened to the room. It was not completely silent, but breathed gently with the slow, regular influx and outflow of filtered air. There was a pleasant scent in it that reminded him of …

He racked his brain. Water. It reminded him of water, flowers, and the green scent of home. But where was home?

Was this home?

He sat up, his head throbbing, and swung his legs off the couch. The fabric of it was soft beneath his fingers. He dug his fingertips into it, trying to concentrate.

Nothing came.

Maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Someone had told him once that when you wanted to remember something, you should take your mind off remembering.

He couldn’t even remember who’d told him that.

Panic clotted in his throat, making it hurt, making his eyes sting with tears.

Stop it, he told himself. This is silly. You’re in this nice place. Someone put you here. You’re not hungry, so you’ve been well fed. Someone is taking care of you. You’re okay.

He had a sudden, blinding recollection of cadging food from kiosks in a dingy marketplace. It was gone as swiftly as it had come.

He got to his feet with care, wobbling a little as he moved toward the door. It did not open at his approach. Was he a prisoner?

He glanced to either side, looking for a control plate. It was on the right: a gleaming octagon of metal set flush with the wall. He waved his hand over it, and the door slid back with a sigh.

He gasped aloud at the beauty of the room beyond the door. It was large, elegant, and decorated in the same shade of blue-gray as the bedchamber. Paintings and sculptures decorated it. The wall he faced was a curving panel of transparisteel that looked out on all the splendor of the city.

The City.

He searched for a name. Imperial Center. He was in Imperial Center. He still had no idea of who he was, beyond his name, but being this high up, in a building whose windows looked out upon gleaming spires, soft white clouds, and golden sky, he must be someone of importance.

There was a soft rush of air and a door opened to his right. A man stepped through it; a tall, thin human, with a bald head and a face covered with pale scar tissue. Kajin held his breath on a stab of recognition. He knew this man, but could not remember how he knew him.

The man hesitated in the doorway a moment, as if taken aback by the sight of Kaj, then smiled. “You’re awake. I’m pleased.”

“Was I … was I asleep long?”

“I’m afraid so. Over a day. We were worried about you.”

“Why? What happened to me? I don’t remember.”

The man’s eyes were sad. “That’s probably for the best. You’ve had quite an ordeal.”

Kajin swallowed. “What ordeal? What happened to me?”

“The Jedi tried to capture you. They nearly succeeded, too. They had spirited you away underground when we caught up with them.”

Darkness. Running back and forth in darkness with the walls closing in. A woman. A greenskinned Twi’lek. “No, you can’t,” she’d said. She’d stopped him from doing … something.

He rubbed at his temples. “There was a woman. A Twi’lek.”

The man’s eyes were chill. “Yes. She was one of them. A Jedi. Don’t you remember?”

“I-I told you—I don’t remember anything.”

Running. Fear. Wanting to do something