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“Go!” she yelled.

The girl was already swinging both hands toward Abeloth and unleashing a dancing fork of Force lightning. Swallowing his surprise, Luke extended his hand to summon her lightsaber and sprang forward as best he could on his injured knee.

It was like hitting a wall of solid Force energy. One moment, he was hurling himself forward, reaching out to coordinate with Ben. The next, he was standing motionless, head spinning and ears ringing, watching Abeloth stumbling out the front door of the hall.

Luke managed to remain standing for the handful of seconds it took to be certain that she wasn’t returning—that, once again, they had wounded her severely enough to make her flee. Then his knee collapsed, dropping him to the floor in pain.

Ben was at his side at once, pulling the medkit from his belt. “Dad! Are you okay?”

“I’ll live.” Luke eyed his son’s blood-soaked form. At the very least, Ben was going to need a kilo of bacta salve and two liters of plasma. “How about you? Anything feel bad?”

“None of it feels good,” Ben replied. “But it’s just a flesh wound. Well, okay, a lot of flesh wounds, but it’s still only flesh wounds.”

Luke heard a groggy groan on the other side of the stage and realized that Gavar Khai was slowly returning to consciousness—a sign, perhaps, that the Fallanassi were no longer under Abeloth’s control. He glanced toward the door, wondering what had become of the Sith outside, and extended a hand for Ben to help him up.

“Let’s get going,” Luke said. “We should hurry, if we want to make it back to the Shadow in one piece.”

“I think you can forget that idea,” Vestara said, joining them. She stopped well outside of lightsaber range, then added, “Considering that you would have to escape Sith custody first.”

Ben’s head snapped around. “Custody?”

Vestara waved her hand toward the door. “You are badly outnumbered, in case you’ve forgotten.” She extended her hand. “It would be best if you handed your weapons over now. We don’t want any misunderstandings when I take you outside.”

Luke sighed and turned to Ben. “Some plan.” As he spoke, he was reaching out to Gavar Khai in the Force, trying to draw the Sith’s semiconscious attention to their conversation. “Tricking Sith girl into killing High Lord … good work. Letting Sith girl betray you again … not so good.”

“Ben didn’t trick me,” Vestara objected. “It had to be done.”

“Because you couldn’t bear to see me tortured?” Ben’s tone was light and unconcerned, a sure sign he understood what Luke was trying to do. “I knew you were falling for—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Vestara interrupted. “Anyone could see what had to be done. Abeloth was making a pet of Lord Taalon. That wasn’t going to do the Sith any more good than you Jedi.”

“Vestara?” Gavar Khai cried. He rose and, fumbling for his lightsaber, started around the stage area toward them. “You killed High Lord Taalon?”

Vestara exhaled sharply. “Ah criik!” She looked toward the ceiling and let her eyes roll back, thinking—or, perhaps, wishing a slow death on both Skywalkers—then shot Luke a glare and raised a hand toward Gavar Khai. “This is just a dream, Father. Go back to sleep.”

She hit her father with a Force blast and sent him tumbling into a wall. When he came to a rest in a limp heap, Vestara watched long enough to make sure he was still breathing, then lowered her hand and dropped her gaze in thought.

“So what’s it going to be, Ves?” Ben asked, flashing her a grin cocky enough to do his uncle Han proud. “Stick around for Sith justice … kill your own father … or help the Skywalker boys escape?”

Vestara exhaled hard, then pulled a pair of familiar-looking lightsabers from her robe pockets and faced the Skywalkers.

“You couldn’t have just knocked me over the head?” She passed the weapons back to their rightful owners, then narrowed her eyes at Ben. “And if you think I did any of that for you, think again. It’s the last time I ever save a Jedi.”

BEN AND HIS FATHER AND VESTARA WERE STILL FIFTY METERS FROM THE Shadow when dazed Sith began to drift back into the village circle. With