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The nav console beeped again, and the view outside the cockpit changed from the blinding white field of hyperspace to reveal the Prak system: a small red sun surrounded by five tiny planets. Taking manual control of his vessel, Bane descended on the third—a forbidding world largely covered by active volcanoes, burning lakes of magma, and dark fields of sulfuric ash.

As he entered the atmosphere, the scanners picked up several small cities scattered across the inhospitable surface. The nearest was several hundred kilometers to the north, but Bane turned his ship in the opposite direction, heading for the vast mountain range that ran east–west along the planet’s equator.

He didn’t know whether Andeddu’s cult still existed or not, but from the moment he had come out of hyperspace he had been confident their stronghold still survived. He could feel its presence on the surface of the world—a nexus of dark side energy pulsing like a beacon from the heart of the mountains.

As he drew closer, the ship detected a small settlement on the edge of the range. Surprisingly, an automated landing beacon was emitting a signal on standard channels. That meant there was still an active spaceport, though it was probably used by shuttles traveling from one location on the planet’s surface to another, rather than visitors from offworld.

Bane’s theory was confirmed when he brought his shuttle in to touch down at the small landing pad on the edge of the settlement. The only other person on site was an old man sitting in a chair outside a small, dilapidated customs booth. He watched curiously as Bane emerged from the ship, but made no effort to rise.

“Don’t see too many visitors lately,” he said as Bane approached. “You from Gallia?”

From his research, Bane knew that Gallia was one of Prakith’s larger cities. The man was assuming he was a native of Prakith; the idea that someone from outside their system would come to visit obviously hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“That’s right,” Bane said, seeing no reason to complicate the situation by revealing the truth. “I flew in from Gallia. I’m looking for information on Darth Andeddu’s followers.”

The man leaned forward in his chair and spat on the ground. “We don’t like to talk about them.” He fixed Bane with a suspicious stare, spat again, then sat back in his chair and crossed his arms defiantly. “I got nothing else to say to you. Go back to Gallia. You aren’t welcome here.”

Bane could have pressed the issue, but he saw no benefit in intimidating or torturing an insignificant, irritable old man. Instead, he turned away and began walking in the direction of the buildings on the horizon. He was confident that someone there would be willing to tell him what he wanted to know.

A few hours later Bane was back in his shuttle, armed with the information he needed. Despite the old man’s declaration, he’d found people were only too eager to share what they knew about the strange, insular cult deep in the neighboring mountains.

It was clear that Andeddu’s followers were still active; occasionally some of them even came into the small town in need of supplies. It was also clear that the people in the mountain village regarded their mysterious neighbors with a combination of fear and loathing. Estimates of their numbers ranged from a few dozen to more than a thousand, though Bane suspected the truth was somewhere closer to the low end. Beyond that, everything else fell under the headings of wild speculation or illogical superstition.

Drawn by the unmistakable power of the dark side emanating from his target, Bane dropped the Triumph lower and began to weave in among the tall black peaks. As he flew deeper into the range, he began to notice increased signs of recent seismic activity. Some of the mountains were over twenty kilometers tall but most were half that height, their tops blown off when the molten lava at their core erupted in a shower of smoke and fire.

It wasn’t long before the stronghold