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But how could it be either of them? Tolk and Jos were in love; Barriss could see that in their every gesture and glance toward each other. Could somebody who could love another like that be capable of wholesale murder?

Yes indeed, if history was to be believed. You could love your sister and still kill your brother. It happened all the time.

Still, Barriss did not want to believe this of Tolk. If she were a spy, that would mean there would be at least one more death on her conscience—for the revelation of her perfidy would surely kill Jos. If not immediately, eventually. He would never recover from such a wound.

And Merit? The minder who healed psychic injuries, who soothed anguish and psychological pain day in and day out? How could he possibly be the one?

Both candidates seemed impossible. And yet, as Barriss considered it with all the calmness and dispassion at her beck, it seemed more and more likely to be one or the other.

She suddenly recalled another fact—both Tolk and Merit had been on the MedStar when the explosion had occurred. Tolk had come back changed. She had withdrawn from Jos. That now seemed to be on the mend, but—what did it mean? Had Tolk been genuinely traumatized by the disaster? Or was she wracked with guilt?

Merit had not spoken of his feelings about the sabotage, that she was aware of—certainly not at the sabacc games. As far as she’d been able to tell, the big Equani had maintained the same, somewhat bland and professional concern for his patients after his trip upstairs that he had before. But did this indicate the callousness of a professional killer, or simply the ability to disconnect and so avoid burnout, which was a constant threat to a minder?

At this point, she had no proof that would convict either of them.

There would be records—if anybody else in this Rimsoo had been on the orbiting ship when the sabotage had taken place, they’d have to be included on the suspect list. But if not…?

Tolk? Or Merit?

The more Barriss thought about it, the more it seemed to her that the secret agent had to be one or the other. Nothing else made sense. Any killer with a mind open to her touch would have been like a black lamp among all these healing folk. She couldn’t have missed it.

There was, she knew, an immediate way for her to find the truth. She stopped walking toward her kiosk, turned, and headed for the OT. A simple, direct way. Often these were the best—

A flash of light flared overhead, followed almost instantly by a loud boom! Barriss looked up and saw the heat-wash of an exploding artillery round splashing against the force-dome.

They were under attack!

She ran for the operating theater.

Den ran out of the cantina, drink still in hand, and cleared the building just as another mortar shell impacted on the force-dome above, filling the air with eyesmiting light and noise.

He grimaced. It looked like he wouldn’t have to tell anybody about the bota going roots-up after all. It seemed pretty obvious that word had gotten out.

A small unit of troopers double-timed along the dome’s inner perimeter, heading for the exit, along with a couple of small vehicles hauling spare ammunition and armor. Outside the dome, larger forces had also begun to gather.

Den stood and sipped his Bantha Blaster thoughtfully. “Looks like my flight’s going to be delayed,” he murmured.

In the OT, as the echoes of the latest explosion slowly died, Jos said, “I’m getting really tired of this mopak.” He looked up at the roof and yelled, “Hey! We’re a medical unit—we don’t have anything worth blowing up in here!”

Another explosion came, but it didn’t seem to affect the OT much. A few bedpans rattled, and the bacta tanks sloshed.

“I don’t think they heard you,” I-Five said.

He saw Tolk smile through her mask. It felt like sunlight. He didn’t want anything to happen to her, but if he died now, he’d do so a happy man.

He glanced up, and saw Den Dhur’s face outside the viewing window of the OT’s door. The little reporter must be standing