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Luke lifted his head. It felt like it weighed a kiloton. He smiled a little as he saw Dyon Stad lying to the side, unconscious, but breathing, and looked again at the monster that had worn first Callista’s face and then Dyon’s.

“Yes,” said Luke. His throat was dry, the words a whisper. “She’s dead.”

ABOVE ABELOTH’S PLANET

DIRECT HIT ON ENGINE NUMBER TWO, ROWDY INFORMED Jaina.

“Stang,” Jaina swore. Ship was opening fire again. The vessel stopped its spiral and she was able to get it back under control just in time to veer out of the path of the next round of torpedos.

“Target Ship,” she barked, juking and jinking to avoid the attack.

Targeting array damaged.

Another hit. The StealthX shuddered.

Targeting display offline.

Jaina pressed her lips together grimly. She still had the Force. Ship twirled, spinning around rapidly but in full control of itself, and she felt its dark gloating. It came to an immediate stop and seemed to be impaling her with its “eye.”

Ship has us target locked, Rowdy informed her.

“I can see that,” Jaina snapped. “Ready—”

She felt the oppressive attention vanish. And a second later, Ship was gone. It was moving, not down to the planet presumably to help Abeloth, but away from the planet, into space.

“What is it doing?” she asked aloud.

RUNNING AWAY BECAUSE IT IS SO OBVIOUSLY OUTMATCHED PERHAPS.

“I wish,” Jaina said. With only three engines and a useless targeting array, she had been at a serious disadvantage. No, something else had happened. She just didn’t know what. At least the vessel wasn’t down there firing on Luke and Ben.

“Okay, Rowdy,” she said, “let’s head back to the Rockhound and see if there’s any news.”

ASYLYM BLOCK, JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT

Cilghal’s heart was heavy as she made her way to the asylum block. As a healer, she mourned every loss of life, and Kani’s murder on the very steps of the Temple infuriated and saddened her profoundly. It had been, as it had doubtless been calculated to be, a severe blow to the morale of the besieged Jedi. There was still no luck in finding anything that could be utilized as an escape route, although the Solos’ ingenious idea to send in badly needed medication on vermin-back had helped lift spirits somewhat.

Still, small creatures could carry only small vials. They had merely staved off the inevitable. The chrono was ticking on the siege deadline. One way or another, something would shift.

Although the ysalamiri prevented usage of the Force in close proximity of the patients, Cilghal used it now to calm herself. It was time for another dose of the sedative; they would be alert and awake, and if they could not sense her in the Force, there was still body language and voice inflections. The calmer she was, the calmer they would be.

There were three of them, now, Sothais Saar, Turi Altamik, and Kunor Bann. Each of them had his or her own comfortable living area, the walls made of transparisteel, with cams that were usually turned off in the more private areas, but could be activated if need be. When they were alert, Cilghal found Saar raging violently—he was the one most in need of the sedative—Altamik clawing at something, and Bann rocking back and forth with tears pouring down his face. She slowed and came to a full stop as they came into view.

Shul Vaal, her Twi’lek colleague, approached her. Normally tranquil, Vaal seemed to be suppressing excitement. “Master Cilghal,” he began, “there’s something—”

Cilghal lifted a hand and Vaal fell silent.

Sothais Saar was sitting calmly at the small table. Datapads and holovids had been provided to all the patients, but they seldom made use of them except to break them. Now the Chev’s heavy-browed head was bent over the datapad, and he seemed to be, quite peacefully, engrossed in reading.

Turi Altamik was brushing her hair. Her expression was strained, tired, but reflected none of the madness that had turned her pert, pretty features into scowls or glowers. And Bann—he stood gazing out the transparisteel, hands clasped behind his back. As soon as he saw Cilghal and Vaal, he lifted