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The detonation was brilliant and noiseless, sure sign of how near vacuum the atmosphere was. Jag’s faceplate polarized almost instantly, leaving him dazzled but not quite blind. He ignited his thrusters, hurtling upward—

Alema’s face was contorted in shock and pain. Her right arm was gone from just below the elbow. Blood trailed from it, bubbling and evaporating where it left her injury.

As Jag reached her, he grabbed her neck in his right hand.

She looked at him. Her expression changed from pain to a plea.

He shook his head. It’s too late. You refused to surrender. Your last act was an attempted murder. I can’t spare you. He did not speak these words—they would have taken too long, perhaps giving her time to recover.

He could see that there was fear in her eyes, but not fear of death. Her lips moved, forming a single word. “Remember.”

Jag knew he was not suddenly sensitive in the Force, that he could not read her thoughts. But there they were, imprinted on his mind. Remember us. Remember us as we used to be, before the universe turned against us. Young, beautiful, strong, brave, admirable, loved, loving…

He nodded. I will.

The pain and fear in her expression eased.

Jag squeezed. He felt the crack of Alema’s vertebrae under his hand as they shattered. Her body went limp. Her eyes became unfocused and distant.

Static erupted across his comlink. Though there was not enough atmosphere to carry the sound of distant explosions to him, he knew that the high yield of those bombs had to be interfering with comm reception.

He hit his thrusters and began rising toward the stone aperture above.

Jaina found Zekk perched atop a section of track, exactly where she had stood when Alema’s mysterious weapon had attacked her and severed the rails. Despite the fact that the air pressure was dropping rapidly, Zekk did not have his mask on.

“Zekk, get moving.” She fumbled around in his belt pouch, found his foil mask, and slipped it over his head, drawing its cinch tight around his collar.

He shook his head, not looking at her. “Go on. You need to leave.”

“We need to leave.” She tugged at his shoulder, bringing him to his knees.

“It’s in me. The evil of this place. I thought I’d be able to keep it at bay forever. No, it doesn’t work that way.”

She crouched, getting her arms around his waist, and then straightened, propelling them both up toward the next section of track. “Zekk, are you my friend?”

“I’m your friend. I love you.” His words emerged almost as a babble, running together and inflectionless.

“I need—I need you to help me. If I’m going to get out of here alive.” They crossed the gap, and she grabbed the next section of track. “Now climb. Or I’ll carry you, and I’ll be slow, and I’ll die.”

“All right.” Mechanically, he turned, got his hands on the cross-ties, and began climbing.

“We’ll get you back to where the Masters are, and they’ll get the evil out of you.”

“Oh. Maybe.” Zekk frowned, struggling to remember something. “Where’s Jag?”

“He’s…following.” The lie sounded unconvincing, even pathetic, to Jaina’s ears.

But Zekk, dazed as he seemed to be, didn’t notice. He nodded, satisfied.

The track wobbled under their hands. Something had to be shaking it. Jaina glanced down, seeing nothing below, and then up.

Above them, a giant sphere was rolling down the tracks. It looked like a plant spore—but two meters across instead of microscopic, and made of grayish metal instead of organic material. It did not roll neatly down the track, but adhered to it as if magnetized.

Jaina assumed it was indeed magnetic, something designed to adhere to ship hulls.

She pulled Zekk around to the underside of the track and held on, preparing to leap free if the thing’s projections threatened to crush a limb in passing. But the spheroid rolled on past harmlessly, descending into the darkness.

Zekk stared after it, vaguely curious. “What’s that?”

“A space mine, I think. Nothing we want to be near when it goes off. C’mon, keep climbing.”

They reached the surface and found the track intact up to the habitat