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So she thought. But the more Anja thought, the more certain she became that there could be no andris anywhere on Yavin 4, even in the Jedi academy's infinuary.

Anja had insisted to the young Jedi Knights that she was not addicted to spice-that she only used it because she liked the way it made her feel, liked the way it could speed up her reactions and clarify her thoughts.

Andris is an enhancement, not an addiction, she assured herself.

Then why, she wondered, were her hands trembling? Why was she close to panic at the very thought that she had no way of getting another dose of andris on this tiny backwater moon? And she needed one now.

She growled and shook her head like a nek battle dog on the attack.

Her waist-length hair, highlighted by streaks of honey, snapped like a whip made of silky strands.

What was she doing on Yavin 4, anyway? It had been her hatred for Han Solo and her belief that he had murdered her father that first motivated her to befriend his twin children, Jacen and Jaina. It had all been part of her plan to take revenge on Solo, either directly or through his children. But now she had gotten to know the twins and their friends and, in spite of the fact that she distrusted and despised their father, she had come to the conclusion that she did not want to hurt them. They didn't deserve it.

Czethros, however, had tried to have them all killed on Cloud City and earlier on the war-torn world of Anobis. Anja no longer trusted her former mentor as she once had.

Still, she wished she could contact him. After all, Czethros had been her main source of spice over the years. He had, in fact, been the first person to show her, years ago, all the benefits andris could provide. He had told her back then that only weaklings became truly addicted. But for the strong-willed, he had insisted, andris was merely a useful tool.

She thrladed her shaky fingers through her flowing dark hair and gave it a vicious yank. She had believed Czethros. About everything.

But Anja was no longer certain what she believed.

With a groan, she threw herself down onto the sleeping pallet and covered her eyes with one arm, trying vainly to slow the rapid beating of her heart. Czethros had lied about the addictiveness of spice. He had ordered her friends murdered. Perhaps he had lied about Han Solo's role in her father's death as well....

This was the idea she found most difficult to accept. Since childhood, her hatred of Han Solo had given her a focus, someone to blame for everything that had gone wrong in her life. Loathing Solo, and knowing that he was to blwne for all her problems, had been one of the few constants she had been able to cling to during the turmoil of her youth.

It would be hard for Anja to give up her hatred-every bit as hard as giving up spice. This was one reason why, in spite of the fact that she now cared about the young Jedi Knights, she still found herself snapping at them, even though they'd done nothing to earnher anger.

Unable to stay still any longer, Anja pushed herself up off the sleeping pallet and began prowling her chambers again.

"I've got it under control," she gritted through clenched teeth. "I can handle this." She reached behind her head and retied the leather band she wore around her forehead to keep her flowing hair in check.

Although she hadn't been doing any real physical activity, perspiration dripped from under the headband and down the back of her neck.

"I can handle this," she repeated, more forcefully.

But Anja knew she was lying to herself.

Alone in a workroom by an outer wall of the Great Temple, Zekk sat next to the table and listened to the rainstorm outside. Old Peckhum had gone to see Master Skywalker, and Zekk was spending some time by himself, working hard. He could smell the spattering droplets of fresh water that moistened the chiseled stone of the rebuilt pyramid's walls.

Open window slits allowed the calming noises of the afternoon rain shower to drift in along with the wonderful jungle scents, without letting the water leak into the rooms.