BEN AND HALLAF LEFT. VESTARA KEPT HER EYES ON THE SILENT, SULLEN Cardya.

Luke could feel the energy within Fala slowly building, slowly moving its way through her mind, touching and changing everything. She was clearly a Force-sensitive, but without the training to recognize and understand what was happening to her, she would be far more vulnerable to the corrupting influences of the dark side than even a novice Jedi. What Abeloth had done to her might not kill her, but it could transform her into something dangerous and unpredictable, something that influenced beings and situations toward dismay and death.

And there, beneath the feelings and unconscious thoughts of Fala, were others. Touches of memories of the Shelter Jedi Knights, the young Jedi Abeloth had made mad, all of them now recovered. But Abeloth wanted them back, was hoarding her energy to call to them again.

There, too, distant, was the sad, self-sacrificing personality of Callista, with whom he had once shared so much. Luke couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. He went even deeper.

He saw and felt dark places, gems that thought, insects that stole thoughts—

Of course.

Luke was dimly aware of Hallaf’s return to the brig cell. He paid no attention, trusting Vestara to continue to guard him. He turned his mind away from the shadows of Abeloth’s memories for the moment and to Fala, to the alien energies that were wrapped up within her.

He extended himself, a subtle but pure wave of light-side energy, flowing through his body and into hers.

His energies, Abeloth’s energies, light and dark, both of the Force, two sides of the same coin, bonded. And with the infinite care of someone carrying a planet’s last trickle of water in his cupped hands, Luke drew both sets of foreign energy out of Fala’s body. He held them suspended before him, noted Vestara’s quick understanding of what was happening.

Slowly, with meticulous care, he separated the two forms of energy from himself. They had nothing to hold them, nothing living to sustain them, nothing but each other to cling to, and they began to dissipate. In moments they were gone.

He felt weary. Well, wearier. That last fight on Almania had stolen a lot of his strength. Keeping himself going despite his injury had taken more. And now this … What he had sacrificed he would eventually regain, after rest and food and meditation, but for now he felt tired to his bones. He wondered if the same was true of Abeloth.

Fala’s eyes fluttered open. “Papa?” Then her gaze fell on Luke. She lay there, confused for a moment, and then, evidently recognizing him, gasped and drew away.

In a moment Hallaf was by her side, holding her. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”

“It was … I couldn’t think, couldn’t move …”

Luke rose and stepped away from father and daughter. He rejoined Vestara and activated his comlink. “Set the lockdown to continue for ten minutes,” he told Ben. “I don’t want them training their blasters on us or interfering with our departure. Come on back.”

“Copy, Dad.”

Ben, his step bouncy despite his injured shoulder, rejoined them within moments. He glanced at his father, and his expression became one of concern. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” Luke turned to Fala. “Keep a close eye on yourself for the next few months. Look for sensations, emotions that seem out of place, dreams that aren’t quite right. If you begin to experience them, set your scruples aside and go consult a Jedi. Your life and your future may depend on it.”

Hallaf rose from his daughter’s side, his expression confused. “You’re not going to bring in the authorities?”

“Currently we don’t represent them, and we have bigger issues to deal with. Such as the kind of being who could do that to your daughter just to distract her pursuers.” Luke let a touch of durasteel creep into his voice. “A little smuggling does not offend me. But the kind of individual who uses others—and uses up others—invites me to retaliate. You understand?”

Hallaf nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”

Luke spun away, his cloak fluttering, and, ignoring the pain in his knee, led the way back toward Jade Shadow.

“Where are we going, Dad?”

“Nam Chorios. We have to hurry. I could sense that she’s calling to the Shelter Jedi Knights, to renew her bonds with them. She’s too weak now to reestablish those severed bonds, but if she becomes stronger …”

ERRANT VENTURE, ALMANIA SYSTEM

Raynar Thul’s StealthX, its S-foils locked together in standard flight configuration, rose into the belly bay of the red Star Destroyer orbiting the planet Almania. His fighter had a little scoring along the port side, the result of cruising just a trifle too near a missile detonation, and it would have to be patched if he hoped to retain full stealth capability in time for the next engagement—wherever that might be.

Rising into the bay, he could see the majority of the other Jedi StealthX fighters already at their landing spots. He nudged his craft in the direction of an empty spot, marked off by yellow reflective tape laid down on a temporary basis, and settled in beside the fighter of Master Kyp Durron. Moments later, canopy raised, he ignored the offer of a ladder from a support worker; he merely dropped over the side and landed between his fighter and Kyp’s.

Kyp stood there with his astromech, scrutinizing his starboard S-foils. Of average height, handsome, with graying brown hair worn long and currently matted by sweat and hours under a helmet, Kyp did not look much like the Jedi Master he was; his dark StealthX pilot’s jumpsuit was rumpled and he had a faint reddening of skin on his face, similar to a sunburn, suggesting that a laser volley had been stopped—mostly stopped—by his forward shields.

Still, he looked normal, and Raynar felt a small pang of envy. His own features had been restored to nearly normal by numerous surgeries, the extensive burns he had experienced years ago detectable only as a few patches of slightly glossy skin resembling textured plastic. His face would no longer cause children to scream, and he had much to be grateful for—especially the fact that the Jedi had once again accepted him as one of their own.

But occasionally he did feel a distant longing for an even greater degree of normalcy.

He pulled off his helmet, then removed his gloves and dropped them into it. “Master.”

Kyp looked his way. “Jedi Thul. You did well out there today.” It was the sort of encouragement a Master tended to offer an apprentice or a newly elevated Jedi Knight, not one of Raynar’s experience, but Raynar knew what it meant. You’ve come back a long way from your own dark times. You’re doing fine. Keep it up.

“Thank you. Master, is there any update?”

Kyp shrugged. “We’re recovering EV pilots now. The Sith force has regrouped in a tight defensive formation, very disciplined. They apparently got one of their disabled frigates moving again just before we took out the seventh, so their net loss is six. We expect them to enter hyperspace at any moment.”

“The Grand Master?”

Kyp became just a little more somber. There were, of course, two Grand Masters, in a sense—Luke Skywalker, in exile, and Kenth Hamner, who had succeeded him. And Hamner was dead. Details were still sketchy. Only the Jedi knew anything at all; some of them had dimly felt it happen.

Kyp knew which Grand Master Raynar meant. “Jade Shadow went into hyperspace hours ago. While we’ve been mopping things up here, there’s been no further word from Master Skywalker. And there’ve been no instructions from the Temple.” He slapped his gloves against his thigh, a show of irritation or impatience not characteristic of most Masters.

Another StealthX rose into the bay, a ferocious shower of sparks spewing from its starboard thrusters. Its pilot maneuvered it skillfully enough, landing it well away from other fighters to keep its fiery exhaust from damaging them.

Kyp watched it for a moment, then sighed. “We don’t know what to do. Until we know where Abeloth went, where the Sith are going, how the situation on Coruscant is shaking out …”

“Understood.”

“Have Calrissian arrange a conference room for us. Ask Masters Ramis and Katarn to meet me there in half an hour. We need to make some contingency plans.”

“Will do, Master.”

“I’m going to see if I can sanisteam the stink of this battle off my skin.” Kyp managed a little smile. “Let me know when everything’s set up.” His step jaunty, or perhaps just plausibly jaunty, he headed off to the temporary pilots’ quarters.