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“Because I need you. Because I can use you. Because we both have a chance to make our deaths count for something.”

Jacen explained that the “sacrifice” was a sham. It was nothing more than an excuse to get into what he called the Well of the World Brain. Ganner understood this “world brain” to be some kind of organic planetary master computer, shaped by the Yuuzhan Vong to manage the ecology of their re-created homeworld. Jacen had been racking his brains for weeks, trying to figure out a way to get inside the Well, which was some kind of reinforced bunker, a sort of impenetrable skull designed to protect the World Brain from any possible harm. The Yuuzhan Vong—especially Nom Anor, who was Jacen’s control—hadn’t let him anywhere near the place. They didn’t entirely trust that Jacen’s “conversion” was real.

Ganner understood. He didn’t entirely trust that it wasn’t.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for a chance to steal ten minutes alone in the Well of the World Brain. You, Ganner—your ‘sacrifice’—you’re my key in the door to the Well. All I need is to get in there.”

“What’s so important about this world brain? What are you going to do once you’re in there?”

Jacen stood very, very still; his face settled into an unbendable durasteel determination that was pure Skywalker.

“I am,” he said with quiet, absolute conviction, “going to teach the Yuuzhan Vong a lesson about the way the universe actually works.”

A wave of chill shivered through Ganner then, as though some cold shadow had flowed into the Force. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to. Repeat after me: ‘I have seen the Light of the True Way, and go to the Gods with joy in my heart, full of gratitude for Their Third Gift.’ ”

“You must be crazy.”

Jacen nodded thoughtfully, as though he’d spent some time considering that possibility and had come to the conclusion that it could not be denied.

“What makes you think I’d go along with this?”

Jacen’s durasteel stare fastened on Ganner. “I’m not asking, Ganner. I’m offering. I don’t need your cooperation. Ten minutes after I walk through the door of the Well, we’ll both be dead whether you play along or not.”

“So why should I?”

Jacen shrugged. “Why shouldn’t you?”

“How do I know I can trust you? How do I know I shouldn’t jump you right now?” Ganner shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, reaching a balanced stance from where he could spring in any direction. “I know you’re stronger now, Jacen—stronger than I’ve ever been. I felt it on the camp ship. I know you can kill me if you want. But I can make you kill me here.”

Jacen spread his hands. His face was blankly expectant. “Choose, and act.”

“Choose? What do you mean, choose?”

“Choose to die here for nothing, or choose to die in the Well of the World Brain: where your death can change the galaxy.”

Ganner licked his lips. “But how am I supposed to decide? How do I know whether I can trust you?”

“You don’t.” Jacen’s face softened again, and a hint of the Solo half smile traced itself ruefully onto his lips. “Trust, Ganner, is always an act of faith.”

“Easy for you to say—!”

“I guess it is. You want to see how much I trust you?” He reached again within his robe. When his hand came out, he opened it toward Ganner, offering. “Here.”

On his open palm balanced the handgrip of a lightsaber.

Ganner blinked. He rubbed his eyes.

When he looked again, it was still a lightsaber. “Take it,” Jacen said. “Use it, if you must. Even if you choose to use it on me.”

“You’re giving me your lightsaber?”

Jacen shook his head. “It’s not mine.” He lifted his hand. “Go ahead. Take it.”

“So what is this? A fake? Another trick? Is it going to blow up in my hand?”

“It’s not a fake,” Jacen said with a sadness so profound it could only be expressed with quiet, dry exactitude. “It’s not a trick.”

For the third time, he extended the lightsaber toward Ganner. “It’s Anakin’s.”

“Anakin’s—!” A sharp, hot thrill shot through Ganner’s whole body, as though he’d been narrowly missed by a stroke of lightning. “How did you get Anakin’s