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Ben grinned. “But we have two Jedi and one Sith. We have them outnumbered.”

Vestara looked skyward as if seeking inspiration, and Luke wondered whether the frustration-infused word flying around in her mind was Jedi, men, or both.

ABOARD THE SHUTTLE VERNUS, DEEP SPACE

Kandra sighed, frustrated. “You’re not being very forthcoming.”

Opposite her, in a rear-facing chair in the shuttle’s passenger compartment, Valin Horn shrugged. “Some things are better experienced than spoken of. Jysella and I are taking you and your cam operator somewhere you can experience something remarkable.”

“Where?”

“Nam Chorios.”

The name sent a little thrill of childhood fear through Kandra. What had come out of Nam Chorios thirty years earlier had been the stuff of bedtime horror stories for those of her generation. “Does it involve the Death Seed plague?”

“Perhaps. It certainly involves a menace endangering our galaxy. Our very existence.”

“But you won’t tell me what it is, or how it relates to the Fireborn explosion, or to the Jedi takeover of the Senate Building …” She now knew, from scattered hypercomm reports picked up during their flight from the Coruscant system, that the Jedi had ousted and imprisoned Chief of State Daala. But Valin’s hints, vague, tantalizing, and maddening, suggested that there was something far, far bigger going on. Some other reason the Jedi needed to be in charge.

“Correct. I won’t. Some things are better experienced—”

“Than spoken of. Right. But—”

Valin rose. “It’s about time for me to take over piloting duties from my sister.” He moved forward, entered the shuttle’s small flight deck, and shut the door behind him.

Valin settled into the copilot’s seat with a sigh of relief. “She won’t stop asking questions.”

Jysella gave him a cool, emotionless look. “She is one of them. You could just space her.”

“No, she may be useful to us when we get to Nam Chorios. As a distraction.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Just stay patient. We’ll get through this. Even if we’re the only real Jedi left in the galaxy, if we stay smart and let the Force guide us, we’ll prevail.”

Jysella gave him a troubled glance, clearly not convinced. “If you say so.”

NINTH HALL OF JUSTICE,

CORUSCANT

LOOKING AT SUL DEKKON, THE CHAGRIAN PROSECUTING ATTORNEY, Tahiri allowed herself to feel another twinge of hope.

The attorney was not his usual crisp, upright self. Dressed in black robes that were positively funereal, he sat back in his chair at the prosecution table, watching with a marked lack of interest as Judge Zudan, up at the bench, sorted out her file printouts for the proceedings of the day to come. Though Dekkon’s face betrayed no emotion, his body language was that of someone grappling with some unexpressed sorrow. There was a sort of waxy lifelessness to his blue skin and horns Tahiri had never seen before.

Anxious to have her suspicions confirmed, Tahiri turned to her own attorney, the Bothan Eramuth Bwua’tu. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He looks rattled. Have we won?”

But Bwua’tu was none too cheerful. His eyes moved as though he were reading a text page no one else could see. He raised his eyes to meet Tahiri’s. “We may be in trouble. He’s just been dealt a new card, and I think he’s playing it.”

Her sorting done, the Falleen judge raised her head to survey the courtroom. “Prosecutor, are you ready to proceed?”

“I am.” Dekkon rose and moved around to stand in front of his table. He took extra moments to straighten his robes, then looked at Zudan again. “Your Honor, the prosecution rests.”

There was a murmur from the audience seats. It wasn’t much of a murmur. Tahiri’s trial had not been truly newsworthy for days, and after yesterday’s coup by the Jedi against Daala, the gallery had scarcely a dozen onlookers in it.

Judge Zudan blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

The judge turned toward the defense table. “Master Bwua’tu, are you ready to begin presentation of your defense?”

“If I could have just a few minutes to confer with my client, Your Honor.”

“I think that would perhaps