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Temptation welled, fierce and strong. She would free Jacen somehow, but it would be easier with the other young Jedi at her side. If she could sway Zekk, she could bring them all to her side.

Under her control.

It was a logical end to the path her thoughts had taken, yet Jaina quickly shied away from it. Swiftly, subtly, she pulled away from Zekk, hoping that he would not notice that she, not he, had caused him to question his hard-won values. The puzzlement that flickered through his Force-sense suggested that she’d succeeded—that he hadn’t realized what she had nearly done.

She pulled off the pilot’s hood and tossed it to Zekk. “I need some time alone,” she said abruptly as she spun away from the other Jedi.

Her path took her toward the small chamber where they’d left Anakin’s body. None of them followed her, but she felt their relief that she was taking steps to finally “deal with her grief.”

And perhaps it was time. After the first terrible surge of loss, Jaina had simply stored away her emotions. It was not so different, really, from the years she’d spent protecting herself from the constant bombardment of other people’s emotions.

She hesitated at the threshold, staring at the quiet stranger laying on the Yuuzhan Vong bunk. He looked to be at rest, and his still form bore little resemblance to the image burned upon Jaina’s mind. The grime of battle had been cleaned away, the terrible wounds bandaged and then covered with clean clothing—linen and leather scavenged from somewhere.

The features were Anakin’s. The height, the form. But his ice-blue eyes had been closed, and the unruly brown hair neatly brushed. Jaina came closer, and without thinking she reached out and tousled it with the big-sisterly gesture she’d so often employed.

A soft step behind her announced Tekli’s presence. “Better,” the Chadra-Fan agreed. “That is how it always seemed to look.”

Jaina turned to the little healer, her eyes dry and her heart cold. “Thank you for what you’ve done here. I didn’t want our mother to see him as he was.”

She turned and walked calmly away, acutely aware of the grief emanating from the Chadra-Fan. She accepted this with gratitude: it seemed right that someone should be able to grieve for Anakin.

Despite the wall she had built around her heart, Jaina sensed that Tekli was not grieving only for Anakin, but for her as well.

Harrar set aside the villip and glanced up at the young warrior, who was pacing the room like a thwarted thunderbolt seeking room to strike.

“The Jeedai has broken contact,” Harrar said.

Khalee Lah touched two fingers to his forehead. “I have given my blood oath to bring her in, but I swear before you and all the gods that she will spend her last days in pain, and die without honor!”

The priest dismissed this vow with an impatient wave of one hand. “Did you mark her words? It seemed to me she implied that in naming the ship Trickster, she might in fact be employing the practice of naming ships for their pilots.”

“Do you think her capable of such subtlety?” Khalee Lah scoffed.

“She is a twin. Surely that means something even where infidels are concerned, or the gods would not be so eager for this sacrifice.”

“She is both Jeedai and twin,” the warrior agreed, “but take care, Eminence, not to subscribe to the heresy that attributes too much power to these Jeedai. This female is not even a pale shadow of Yun-Harla.”

“Of course not,” the priest agreed. Still, a strange doubt lingered. “Attend me,” he said, and strode off to consult with his yammosk keeper.

They made their way to the chamber that housed the monstrous battle leader. “You have made contact with the Ksstarr?” he demanded.

The keeper bowed. “We have, Eminence.”

“I would confirm this.”

“Of course!” The keeper moved aside, allowing Harrar to place one hand on the writhing, many-tentacled thing.

After a moment, Harrar lifted his gaze to the keeper’s face. “The link is confirmed. Have you not found it peculiar that the Ksstarr has sent no return communication whatsoever?”

“It is