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His senses were sharp, extended, focusing not just on battling the Sith but also on observing how his father, Jaina, and Vestara fared in the fight. As he had expected, the uncle–niece team of Skywalker and Solo were doing just fine. He could see the corpses strewn about, and with a flash of black humor thought the Sith, now potential tripping hazards, were more of a threat dead than alive.

Vestara’s voice rang out over the sound of battle. “Where does your loyalty lie, Father? Not with the Lost Tribe, I think!”

Gavar Khai’s reaction was strong. So strong that the Sith fighting Ben paused as if buffeted by it. It was only an instant of inattention—but when Saber and Jedi Knight battled, an instant was all that was needed. Ben didn’t hesitate, but plunged the blade forward into the Keshiri Sith’s chest. She died with a look of surprise on her face.

Ben whirled, glancing first at his father and Jaina. They were more than holding their own, so Ben turned to Vestara. He had just spun around when he realized he needn’t have bothered.

Vestara had never looked more beautiful, nor more deadly. Her long brown hair was flying with the speed of her movement, her lightsaber a blur as she pushed the attack. Gavar Khai took one step back, then another and another, even with a state-of-the-art prosthetic arm clearly having difficulty countering his daughter’s savage attack.

Vestara cried out, sharply, wordlessly, her voice raw as she swung with all her skill and speed.

Her red blade sliced through robes and flesh, cutting through him from right shoulder to left hip. He collapsed, dead before he hit the ground.

Vestara reached out a hand. His still-lit lightsaber, sizzling on the flagstones, sprang to her. Panting slightly, her skin gleaming with sweat and the moist air, she clutched a lightsaber in each hand. Her eyes met Ben’s and their gazes locked.

Lost in that piercing gaze, Ben heard, as if from a great distance, the sound of lightsabers being extinguished and knew that his father and Jaina had won their fights. He turned to them as they approached.

“You okay?” Luke asked.

“Yeah,” Ben said. “A burn on the shoulder, but should be all right. You?”

“We’ll need the bacta salve, but otherwise fine.” Luke regarded Vestara with an expression that was both cautious and kind. “I don’t think your father agreed to die just to convince me you’d betray him,” he said, and his voice was gentler than Ben had ever heard it when speaking to Vestara.

She blinked, as if coming out of a daze. “I—I had to kill him,” she said. Her voice was thick. “I had to kill my father …”

Ben stepped up to her, wanting to comfort her, not knowing how. All the phrases he could say fell far short. Sorry about your father. You did the right thing. It’ll be all right. They were all hollow in comparison to the vastness of pain and shock Vestara was feeling.

The right words came from an unexpected source. “I had to kill my own brother,” Jaina said quietly.

Vestara looked over at the Jedi, listening, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“I knew it was the right thing to do,” Jaina continued. “I did it to save my own life and the lives of many others. I still miss him. You’ll miss your father, too.”

“I … I had no choice.”

“No. You didn’t. Other than be cut down yourself,” Jaina continued. “It was the right thing for you to do, too. But you’ll still miss him … and wish there had been some other way.”

Vestara nodded, looking at Jaina gratefully. She took a deep breath and Ben felt her aura in the Force steady. He reached out and touched her arm gently. She gave him a shaky, broken smile.

“There were only ten,” Luke said. “They figured out where we were going somehow.”

“I didn’t—” Vestara began.

“I don’t think you did,” Luke replied. “They probably assumed we’d do exactly what we have been doing—investigating planets traditionally associated with Sith history. Khai probably chose this place because of the nexus. They could send a smaller team and still be stronger.”

“Or so they thought,” Jaina said.

“That means