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Both Jedi Knights leapt to their feet, weapons in hand but not activated, and raced outside as the customers inside screamed and ducked. A soft, pudgy Ortolan, screaming and flailing his blue arms and legs, ears flapping wildly, hurtled toward Barv. Still calm, he lifted a massive hand and Force-caught the Ortolan, lowering him gently to the ground. Yaqeel’s lightsaber snap-hissed to life and she extended her senses, reaching past the chaos and fear to identify the source of the disturbance.

It took less than a second, and her eyes lit upon the miscreant at the same instance the Force directed Yaqeel’s attention toward her. Her feline jaw gaped for a precious second.

“Jysella?”

She was there, just outside the Jedi Temple, her lightsaber lit and clutched in one hand while her other was extended, clearing a path through the crowd and battering back any would-be attackers. Jysella’s eyes were huge, and even at this distance her friends could see the combination of terror and determination in them.

“Stang,” muttered Yaqeel. Barv was right beside her, and moving as one, the two raced toward their friend and fellow Jedi. Barv rapidly began to outpace the Bothan, moving much more swiftly than most would expect of the large Ramoan. Neither he nor Yaqeel knew who was attacking Jysella, but it didn’t matter. She was Sella, a member of the Unit, and—

Time seemed to slow. In that stretched-out moment, Yaqeel watched as Jysella tensed. The human Jedi could not possibly have seen Barv running to her side, and somehow Yaqeel didn’t think Jysella sensed him in the Force. Jysella didn’t seem to react so much as she simply leapt and sprang. Barv was suddenly and unexpectedly jostled by a fleeing crowd member—that was something he needed to work on, Yaqeel thought disconnectedly, he tended to hyperfocus in moments of crisis—and ended up several steps to the right of where he had been running.

And yet Jysella was there.

The lightsaber descended so fast that Barv barely was able to block it with his own in time. Yaqeel stared, stunned into inaction for a moment. Why was Jysella—

“It’s not you!” Jysella was screaming as she pressed the attack. She seemed to know exactly when Barv would duck, would parry, would push forward, would execute a Force leap. It would have been astonishing to watch, almost balletic, if it weren’t for the horror that Jysella Horn was fighting another Jedi, and not just any Jedi, but one who was among her best friends in the galaxy.

Fortunately for Barv, Jysella’s uncanny and hitherto unguessed-at ability to predict where he would be at any given moment seemed mitigated by her panic. She was sloppy, shaking, and Barv, who never seemed to get rattled by anything, managed to defend himself—until Jysella screamed out, “Give me my friend back!” and her glowing weapon sliced across Barv’s midsection.

Yaqeel cried out as Barv staggered back. Fortunately Jysella’s weapon had barely grazed him. It was a smoking wound, but not deep, and could be treated. Yaqeel’s eyes met Barv’s. She realized now what had happened. Even as pity and sympathy for Jysella washed through her, the Bothan knew that she had to be stopped

Preferably by fellow Jedi.

Even more preferably, by Yaqeel.

Crying incoherently, her mouth made ugly by a snarl, Jysella bore down on the Ramoan. Yaqeel’s hand shot out, grasped air, and pulled. Barv’s huge green body was suddenly invisibly yanked out of the path of Jysella’s slicing lightsaber. The weapon made a buzzing sound as it sliced empty air where a fraction of an instant earlier Barv had stood. Had Yaqeel not intervened, the Ramoan would have been sliced in two.

Jysella whirled, her gaze impaling Yaqeel. Then her eyes widened in horror and grief.

“Oh, no … not Yaqeel, too!” she cried brokenly, almost whimpering, and if it were not for the fact that the human girl had just almost killed Barv that sound would have cracked Yaqeel’s heart. Instead she wrapped it in durasteel and hardened herself to what had