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When one was a leader of a desperate drive to free a slave culture, one had to be disciplined, hard, and merciless. Grunel was all three. And he was encouraged that the GA forces he faced were not as resolute as his own people. He was going to prison … but the movement would live on, perhaps led by his own brother. It would continue to swell, would achieve victory without him.

A larger-than-average Klatooinian, with the olive-green skin, heavy musculature, and severe, even brutish facial features common to his kind, Grunel knew he’d be a striking image on HoloNews during his trial. Perhaps this would not be the best way for him to serve … but it would still be service.

The door into his small, gray solitary-confinement cell slid up. He looked over from his bunk. A Falleen male, lean and vigorous, in a naval captain’s uniform stepped in. Behind him, a trio of guards waited. They disappeared from his view as the door slid into place again.

Grunel returned his attention to the ceiling. “You are my advocate?”

“No. I’m Captain Hunor. I’m here to discuss options with you.” The Falleen sat in the cell’s single chair, a spindly-looking thing of durasteel tubing.

“I’ll take the option where I go free and destroy your precious navy.”

“Not available, sadly.”

Grunel managed a weary smile. He knew it looked bestial to the humans and near-humans; the Klatooinian facial muzzle, not dissimilar to that of battle dogs but shorter, was intimidating to the more numerous small-chinned races. “I’m certain you are sad.”

“I am. I’m caught between my duty to the navy and my duty to sapient species everywhere. And increasingly, I choose to do my duty to the latter.”

Curious, Grunel looked at him again. “And how do you intend to do your duty this time?”

“By killing you. With your cooperation. And making your death mean something.”

* * *

ABANDONED ROCK IVORY PROCESSING PLANT, NAM CHORIOS

When night fell and the winds died down, Luke, Ben, and Vestara moved out to the TIE shuttle and got to work.

Luke let the youngsters attempt the resurrection of the shuttle. They had plenty of technical skill, and could call on him if they needed more.

For his own part, he went looking, climbing across the hilly ridges in search of crystals. He didn’t need ordinary ones—he wanted those that resonated with the Force. He needed the tsils.

He found more than one such being occupying one of the elaborate chimney-like crystal formations, the kind that had collectively been termed tsils before that word had been revised to refer only to the sentient silicon life-forms of the planet. This chimney structure resonated with the Force, suggesting that there were two or three spook-crystals within; another one lay on the dusty ground less than a meter away from its base. The formation wasn’t far from the shuttle. As he settled to the ground in a cross-legged position, his cloak under and around him, Luke could still hear Ben and Vestara talking.

Arguing, as usual.

“You have to admire his efficiency.”

“No, you don’t, Ben … Whose efficiency?”

“The saboteur. Looks like what he did was patch a high-powered capacitor straight into the electronics, triggered by receipt of any protracted signal on the official port authority comm channel. When it went off, every circuit chip and half the wiring in the shuttle fried. Probably no more than a five-minute job to set up the sabotage … days or weeks to repair it fully.”

“And you admire this?”

“Just the efficiency. Next time I have to sabotage something, I’ll have to remember this.”

“Well, remember how cold you are before you express—hey.”

“Hey, what?”

“The laser cannon was uninstalled …”

“We knew that. That’s why Dad wasn’t shooting back.”

“But the support systems for it weren’t. They were detached from the shuttle’s other circuits but not removed. So we have a few control chips, plenty of serviceable wire, power output meters, emergency start-up capacitors …”

“Stang!”

Though heartened by the teenagers’ discovery,