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But not because she liked you. Only for the information.

Lorn nodded to himself. He had to keep in mind that the Jedi did nothing that did not serve their own interests. Nothing. He would be doing himself no favors to walk into their clutches.

No, the best way out was to run. But to book passage on even a garbage scow was financially out of the question at this point.

And then he remembered—Tuden Sal! A few months past he’d given the owner of a successful chain of restaurants a tidbit of data that had helped the Sakiyan keep his liquor license. At the time Lorn had been flush and had charged only a few drinks—well, more than a few—but Sal had promised him a favor if the day ever came that he needed one.

As far as Lorn was concerned, that day was here. Tuden Sal was known to have strong contacts with several smuggling organizations, including Black Sun. He would know how to get them off Coruscant. Lorn felt revitalized by the possibility. This was a good plan—if he could just stay alive long enough to make it happen.

Ahead of him the droid slowed down. There was a change that Lorn could feel in the air. The echoes of their footsteps seemed to be hollower, more distant.

I-Five confirmed it.

“For those of you who are interested, the cavern we have just entered is roughly seven hundred standard meters wide, two hundred meters across, and festooned with stalactites starting forty or fifty meters above our heads. The ledge we are on, unfortunately, ends within seven meters, culminating in a drop that is—” The droid paused. “—currently not measurable with my modest sensory capabilities.”

Terrific, Lorn thought.

Darsha heard Lorn Pavan release a long-suffering sigh. “Let me guess,” he said, “we have to jump across.”

“Not unless you’ve suddenly gained greater levitation powers than our Sith friend,” the droid replied.

Darsha reached out with the Force. She sensed nothing other than the usual low-level life signs found everywhere.

“It feels empty,” she said.

“Well, thank you, Mistress of the Force, but pardon me if I don’t stop worrying,” Pavan replied sarcastically. “It seems like your track record with that skill is still a little on the nebulous side.”

She glared at Pavan. “It so happens that even Jedi Masters—which I am not—can be taken by surprise by things that are not Force-sensitive. Creatures who make very little ripples in the psychic flow are sometimes as good as invisible.” Abruptly she remembered Bondara’s leap toward the Sith, and fell silent.

After a moment, I-Five said, “The good news is that there seems to be a bridge.”

Darsha moved forward to stand next to the droid. To keep her balance, she inadvertently put her hand on Pavan’s shoulder, felt him tense and move away.

What was it with him? she wondered. What did he feel the Jedi had done to him to make him hate her and her kind so? Darsha remembered the look on Master Bondara’s face when Pavan had introduced himself. Her mentor had known the man’s name. What did that mean? She wasn’t usually the prying type, but as soon as she got back to the Temple she’d do her best to find out.

Sure, she thought. As if there would still be a place for her in the Temple after all this. Fail the graduation exercise, get her Master killed, and wind up nearly eaten by a bunch of blind monsters. What kind of Jedi was that?

Not a very good one, she had to admit.

Darsha shook her head slightly, trying to banish encroaching despair. There is no emotion, there is peace. She had made mistakes, that was for sure, had probably lost any chance of ever becoming a Jedi. But until Master Windu or another member of the council officially reassigned her, she would continue to do her duty as best she saw it. She would get Lorn Pavan to the Temple because his information would be valuable to the council, could help maintain order against the misuse of power. It was what a Jedi would do, and so it was what she would do.

Thankfully, Pavan was not at all like Oolth the Fondorian. That one