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Her lips grew white as she pressed them together. She believed the Gorgon had survived for a purpose. And now, as she returned to Maw Installation, it seemed as if the spirit of Grand Moff Tarkin were looking over her shoulder, guiding her. She knew what she was destined to do. She could not fail a second time.

“Commander, power up all functional weapons systems,” Daala said. “Shields up. Approach the Installation.”

She looked back at large-browed, weak-chinned Commander Kratas, who snapped to attention.

“It appears we have some work to do,” Daala said.

27

Kyp Durron ducked under a thorny vine as a flock of scarlet insect-birds thrummed into the air. Acrid stinging thistles brushed against his arm, his face. Overhead, the interlocked branches rustled as arboreal creatures fled from the noise. Sweat dripped from Kyp’s dark hair, and the oppressive air felt like a moist blanket, smothering him.

He did his best to keep up with Master Skywalker, who flowed through the jungle thickets, finding secret paths that allowed him to pass unhindered. Kyp had once used dark tricks to dodge spiny debris and find the easiest routes through the underbrush; now, though, even the thought of such techniques made him shudder with revulsion.

Once, when he had gone on a jungle sojourn with Dorsk 81, Kyp had brashly used a Sith technique to generate an unappetizing aura around himself, driving away gnats and bloodsucking pests. Now, though, Kyp tolerated the misery as Master Skywalker led him far from the Great Temple.

They had left the other Jedi trainees to continue their independent studies. Master Skywalker was proud of them. He said that the trainees were reaching the limits of the techniques he himself could teach them. The new Jedi Knights would grow in their own directions, discover their own greatest strengths.

But since the time he had come within a razor’s edge of blasting Han Solo with the Sun Crusher, Kyp had been reluctant to use his power, afraid of what it might drive him to do.…

Master Skywalker took Kyp alone out into the jungles, leaving the great pyramid behind as Artoo-Detoo wobbled and jittered, bleeping with displeasure at being left behind.

Kyp wasn’t sure what the Jedi teacher wanted from him. Master Skywalker said little as they trudged for hour after hour through the dripping rain forest and the oppressive humidity, the insect-laden air, the claw-thorns of brambles.

Kyp was intimidated to be alone with the man he had defeated through Exar Kun’s evil powers. Master Skywalker had insisted that Kyp arm himself—that he wear the lightsaber built by Gantoris. Did Luke intend to challenge Kyp to a duel—a duel to the death this time?

If so, then Kyp vowed not to fight. He had allowed his anger to cause too much destruction already. It was only by a miracle that Master Skywalker had survived the onslaught of Sith treachery.

Kyp had recognized the dark side when Exar Kun whispered in his ear, but he had been too overconfident, thinking he could resist where even Anakin Skywalker failed. But the dark side had swallowed him whole—and now Kyp questioned all of his abilities and wished he could just be free of his Jedi talent so he need not fear what he might do with it.

At the edge of a clearing, with tall grasses stroking against each other, Master Skywalker came to a halt. Kyp stopped beside him to see two ferocious-looking predators, iridescent in scales of pale purple and mottled green for camouflage in the thick vegetation. They looked like hunting cats crossbred with large reptiles: their shoulders were square, their forearms as powerful as heavy pistons. They had three eyes across their boxy faces, yellow and slitted, unblinking as they stared at the intruders.

Master Skywalker gazed back at them in silence. The breeze stopped. The predators growled, opening their mouths to expose scimitar fangs, and let out a purring howl before they melted back into the jungle.

“Let’s continue,” Master Skywalker said, and walked across