“What do you mean?” Stellan Gios demanded, staring at his comlink as though he could see Orla Jareni looking back at him. “Regald Coll is dead?”
“Worse than dead,” came Orla’s response. “His body has been—changed, somehow. Into this dry, almost powdery version of itself. I haven’t touched him because I’m scared he’ll fall apart.”
Stellan looked across the Hub at Nib Assek and Elzar Mann, whose dismay mirrored his own. “Another husk,” Stellan said. “And this time, on Starlight itself.”
Whatever horror had finally stolen the life of Loden Greatstorm had made its way aboard the station. Starlight—supposedly a place of refuge—had become another source of danger.
Orla said, “What do you mean, another one? This is a thing that’s been happening?”
“Being cut off from the business of the Order is one of the prices of being a Wayseeker,” Stellan pointed out. “We’ll brief you in full when you return to the Hub.”
“First you need to send a med team, or at least some droids and a hovergurney. Indeera Stokes was searching the level with us, several meters away—but still too close—”
“Not Indeera, too!” Nib blurted out. Stellan put one hand on her shoulder, briefly, helping her restore calm. They needed to remain centered now more than ever.
“Indeera’s alive, at least for now,” Orla said. “But whatever killed Regald hurt her badly. She’s unconscious, her breathing is weak and uneven, and—and she doesn’t look good. She needs medical help right away.”
“Dispatching a med droid to your location immediately,” Stellan said. “Once you’ve seen her to safety, report back to Ops.” With that he clicked off the comm.
Elzar said, “At least when Indeera wakes up, she might be able to give us some idea what we’re dealing with.”
“Perhaps.” Stellan envied Elzar his confidence that Indeera would, indeed, wake up. More than that, Stellan envied that level of concentration. With his attention no longer focused by the call, his exhaustion was catching up to him. The intense dread that had been suffusing him for almost two days, ever since the nightmare, deepened with the knowledge that the danger he’d sensed was very real—and had already cost one of Stellan’s people his life.
“Stellan.” Elzar had come to his side without Stellan even observing it. “You’re not yourself. If you need to rest, go. I can watch things here.”
“And I can watch him,” Nib added, with the faintest hint of her usual humor. “If he won’t take it easy of his own free will, I’ll call my Padawan. See if I don’t.”
“No Wookiee enforcement will be necessary,” Stellan insisted. “I’ll—sit. Rest a little. But more than anything I want to talk to Orla, and hopefully Indeera, so we can get some answers about just what happened here.”
They were being watched.
“This changes nothing,” Cale warned the other members of the Nihil as they left the docking bay. “The human man with orange hair is a fool.”
“Fools talk,” Leyel pointed out, shouldering her tool bag. “That’s one of the things they’re best known for.”
Cale remained undaunted. “But nobody is listening. How can they? The Eye’s plan has thrown this station into bedlam. That gives us an opportunity.”
The opportunity in question was their one deviation from Marchion Ro’s plan. Breaking out the other Nihil in captivity—it carried risks. Now, however, that they had seen the state of Starlight Beacon for themselves, all three team members felt that the risks could be managed.
There even seemed to be a good chance the Jedi wouldn’t realize their captives were gone, at least not in the brief amount of time they would have before being extremely distracted.
Starlight’s brig had been built for short-term containment, not extended incarceration. Therefore it lacked the reinforcements standard on prison stations and ships: double-thick walls, metal-sealed ceilings and floors, force fields in nearby maintenance tubes and ducts. Of course it would be well guarded—even the Republic couldn’t be so arrogant as to leave their prisoners without supervision—but probably such oversight was limited to the floor the cells were actually on, and was more likely to consist of droid sentries rather than sentient guards.
So the Nihil team had assumed, and within minutes of arriving on the next floor up, they had reason to believe they were correct. This floor, which seemed to be given over to conference rooms for policy summits and treaty discussions, was deserted except for a maintenance droid that kept sullenly to its task of vacuuming the air vents.
Werrera held up one of their devices preloaded with the station specs and blueprints that had been sent to the Nihil by Ghirra Starros. This map showed them the way. At the point directly above the brig, Leyel withdrew a scrambler; it was a crude device, capable of disorienting droids only in its very immediate vicinity, and for no more than a few minutes—but that was all they required.
“In and out within six minutes.” Cale smiled broadly as he took up the tools they’d need to peel away the floor. “Let’s begin.”
“The pacing is getting old,” Chancey said as she stared at the blank cell wall before her.
“It is for me, too,” Nan admitted, “but I can’t sit still any longer. I need to move.”
“I remember feeling like that when I was younger.” Chancey stretched out on her bunk, closing her eyes. “These days, I don’t turn down too many chances to get some sleep.”
Nan said nothing, but privately thought that if she were ever so decrepit as that, they could toss her on the funeral pyres and she’d light the first match herself. And Chancey couldn’t be older than forty-five or so!
“Wonder if they’ve told Sylvestri that I’ve been arrested,” Chancey said. Her eyes remained closed, and the tone of her voice was difficult to read. “She wouldn’t be sorry, I imagine.”
Sylvestri Yarrow was Chancey’s daughter, a girl roughly Nan’s own age, one who had turned down the chance to join her mother in working for the Grafs. Every single day since, Nan had been keenly aware that, however encouraging Chancey was, she’d rather it had been Sylvestri next to her. It turned out to be no fun, coming in as only second-best.
(Sylvestri Yarrow had been in the company of Padawan Reath Silas when Nan last saw her. Was there a connection between the two of them? Nan didn’t want to be curious about this, about Reath, but couldn’t deny that she was.)
In the end, all that mattered was this truth: Chancey Yarrow missed her daughter. That meant that, no matter how sleek and confident and badass Chancey acted (which was very), there was an emptiness within her.
That emptiness might be fulfilled by taking care of another young woman. Taking the fall for her, even, if Nan played her cards right…
For a moment she was jarred by her own thoughts. How could it be so easy to turn on someone who, only days before, had been her mentor?
Because we were only ever using each other, Nan realized. Chancey’s not like Hague.
Her childhood guardian’s wrinkled Zabrak face appeared in her mind, tightened her throat. Nan scarcely remembered her parents; it was Hague who had truly raised her, taught her nearly everything she knew. She hadn’t realized that she wanted Chancey to fill that absence until now.
In the main docking bay, Affie Hollow looked over the Adrens’ ship with approval. “Nice little skiff,” she said. “We can have her back in top shape in no time.”
“Good,” Joss replied absently. “Good.” He was staring into the distance, and his tone of voice had shifted from easygoing humor to something darker. Affie’s ears pricked up. What had gone wrong? Only minutes had passed since both Adrens had inspected the Vessel with her, met Leox and Geode, and offered up plenty of ways to help. At that very moment, Leox was probably going through his audio files, because it turned out he and the Adrens were fans of the same simjo band.
So everybody was friendly. Getting along. Exchanging files, even. How could that already have changed for Joss Adren? “Um,” she began. “What’s the problem?”
Joss let out a long sigh. “Listen. I know there’s nothing for me to worry about. Not really. But that doesn’t mean I appreciate people flirting with my wife in front of my very eyes.”
“Oh, Leox isn’t flirting,” Affie said. “He winds up hugging everybody sooner or later.”
“Leox Gyasi isn’t the problem,” Joss huffed. “It’s that damn rock.”
Affie angled her body around the side of the Adrens’ ship to see the Vessel. Its hatch was open, Geode at the top of the ramp…upon which sat Pikka Adren, her curly hair bouncing as she laughed.
Affie hurriedly said, “Geode’s a Vintian. It’s not like there’s anything he could do with a human, even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t. He dates in-species only. Which for most people I think is kind of narrow-minded? But you have to admit, for Vintians, it’s kind of unavoidable.”
Joss looked over her shoulder and sighed. “I guess you’re right.”
Affie smiled at him, relieved to have restored his mood, while inwardly thinking, Oh, great, Geode’s on the prowl again.
Elzar went down to the cargo bay level, determined to see for himself what had become of Regald Coll. Really, Stellan should’ve gone—but Stellan was near the end of his endurance, whether he recognized it or not. Elzar had no interest in pushing the man even harder.
Besides, Elzar simply wasn’t as affected by this strangeness aboard the station as all the other Jedi appeared to be. Was it because he was still closing himself off to the Force somewhat? That seemed wrong to Elzar—the Force strengthened a Jedi, never weakening him except through its absence.
The causes didn’t matter, in the end. At the moment, Stellan couldn’t handle this. So he took the responsibility on himself.
He arrived just after the medical team, in time to see them hurrying away with a hovergurney carrying the unconscious Indeera Stokes. She twitched where she lay—less like someone regaining awareness, more like someone potentially on the verge of a seizure. Elzar’s brief glimpse of her face was enough to shock him: She looked ten years older than she had just hours prior. It’s like something literally sucked the life out of her, he thought.
From the shadows farther down the corridor appeared a figure in white. “Come,” Orla said. “You should see this. Someone besides me should, anyway. I’m not sure I believe my eyes.”
Elzar went to her side. There, before them, lay what remained of Regald Coll: mere dust in the shape of a man. Though the husk had some kind of fibrous quality as well—
In Elzar’s mind, a memory flashed: Regald laughing over breakfast that very morning, making light of the tasks ahead of them, refusing to give way to the darkness shadowing them all.
Only hours later, the darkness had swallowed Regald whole.
“What power can do something like this?” Orla whispered. “It’s as if—as if life itself were torn from him.”
That’s impossible, Elzar wanted to say. But he didn’t know if he believed in its impossibility any longer.
The bridge of the Gaze Electric was almost completely silent. Thaya checked the activation sequences on the second shipment of droids from her station, far off in the corner, while Marchion Ro remained in his chair, staring into a middle distance. The dim lights of the consoles reflected on the impassive visage of his mask. Few ever saw him off guard like this, she realized: What thoughts might be running through his mind?
Thaya had little time to consider this question before an approach signal began chiming, requesting permission for boarding. She sat up in alarm, but Ro made a lazy gesture with one hand. “Our guest is expected.”
Better to have told me, so I could make arrangements, Thaya thought but didn’t say. It wasn’t Marchion Ro’s responsibility to make her job easier; it was Thaya’s responsibility to adapt to whatever his needs might be.
Ro flicked on the comm himself. “This is Gaze Electric,” he said. “What took you so long?” His tone was warm, almost teasing…and, to Thaya’s ears, rather false.
The holo flickered to life, grainy and shadowed, revealing a woman in her early forties, wide-eyed and breathless as a girl. After an instant, Thaya recognized her: Senator Ghirra Starros, Republic official and Nihil spy. Thaya had often wondered how Ro managed to subvert and turn a Republic senator to their side. Now she knew: He’d used the oldest, most obvious trick there was. And Starros had fallen for it.
Was there nothing Marchion Ro couldn’t do?
“Marchion,” Starros said. “You received all my transmissions?”
Ro nodded. “Every word.” Again that knowing, mischievous tone—one he would never use with a true intimate, assuming he had any. “Come and claim your reward.”
The emphasis he put on the last word made it clear what that reward would be. Thaya felt a moment’s gratitude for the relative darkness of the bridge, which hid her blush. She said nothing, simply transmitted the docking codes to Starros’s tiny ship.
“I’ll be there within moments,” Starros promised. “I can’t wait to see you.”
The holo blinked out, leaving the bridge dark and quiet once more. Ro said, “I’ll greet our guest personally.”
“I’ll get quarters ready for her.” Thaya smiled brightly. “Alfkenda’s old rooms?” Now reassigned to another ship, Alfkenda had been a highly valued engineer. As such, her former quarters were some of the nicest on the ship, save for Ro’s own.
They were also located half the length of the ship away from Ro’s suite. Ro would be able to visit Senator Starros whenever he wished…but wouldn’t have to deal with any intrusions on his privacy.
“Those will be ideal,” Ro said. “You’ve comprehended my needs exactly.”
Thaya bowed her head. For her there could be no greater praise.
Getting out of here is going to be a lot of work, Leox thought as he sat in the Vessel cockpit, looking out at the docking bay. Starlight’s crew had done superb work layering so many ships in so little space—but it would be difficult for more than one or two to take off and exit at a time. Given that everybody would be anxious to be on their way as soon as it was safe, it was a good bet that not everyone would want to wait their turn for departure.
Especially not beekmonkeys like Koley Linn.
They’d be looking at a three-dimensional traffic jam even if the Jedi weren’t in a hurry. And if they were—
“Leox?” Affie’s voice rang through the ship as he heard her footsteps on the ramp. “Where’s Geode?”
“Sleeping, I think.” Vintians kept odd hours.
Affie appeared in the cockpit door, eyes wide. “He’s in his bunk…alone, right?”
“Of course. You know he only flirts around.”
“Yeah, but this time he’s flirting with one of the mechanics who can get us out of here.” Affie plopped down in the seat beside Leox, shaking her head. “Who happens to be married to the other mechanic who can get us out of here.”
“Hey, the guy can’t help it,” Leox said with a shrug. “The ladies go for those strong, silent types.”
This won him a scowl from Affie. “He can help it more than he does, and this time, he’d better.”
“All right, all right, all right. I’ll talk to him when he gets up.” Leox couldn’t help thinking about more predatory types aboard. “Koley Linn hasn’t given you any trouble, has he?”
“No, except by existing.” Affie helped herself to one of Leox’s mint sticks. She still thought their biggest problem was Geode not knowing when to turn off the charm.
Leox hoped she was right.
A thump overhead made Chancey look up. Nan flinched on her bunk, whispering, “What’s that?”
“Something going on upstairs,” Chancey replied. She glanced at the sentry droids, just visible from their cell; they stood in place, vibrating slightly, not reacting.
That’s a scrambler at work, she thought. Something serious was about to go down, and it looked like they were standing at the center of it.
Another thump brought both women to their feet. Sparks sprayed around one of the ceiling panels, and then it lifted free to reveal three beings staring down at her.
“All glory to the Eye,” said the Pau’an male.
The Nihil? What the hell? This made no sense to Chancey whatsoever.
But Nan had already jumped to her feet, relief washing over her face. “All glory to the Eye,” she returned. “How have you—did someone send you—”
“We knew Hague,” said the human female. “For his sake, we’ve come to help you.”
The Pau’an added, “In return, you will help us.” It wasn’t a question.
Chancey wanted to know a lot more about what they were helping with, and why—but she also knew this was no time to be stubborn. “I’ve made worse bargains,” she said, scooting one of the bunks beneath the open ceiling panel, the better for them to reach. “Let’s move.”