HOW THE SCOUTSHIP HAD MANAGED TO SLIP INSIDE THE BLOCKADE, Head of State Jagged Fel could not imagine. He had a thousand Sienar Sentinel picket boats watching all approaches to the planet Exodo II. He had six Star Destroyer task forces crowded into an area of space barely a thousand kilometers in diameter. He had a hundred turbolaser crews pouring fire into the cluster of sunlit megaliths that had once been Exodo II’s moon Boreleo, and he had three sensor crews monitoring every cubic meter between the target zone and the cordon perimeter. And yet there it was on the bridge display: the golden sliver of a KDY Star Ranger, slipping into a dark chasm between a trio of kilometer-long moon fragments.

The most likely explanation for the infiltration was also the most alarming: that someone had deliberately allowed the craft through. His siege of ex–Galactic Alliance Chief of State and would-be Imperial Head of State Natasi Daala was about to enter its second month, and Jag was acutely aware that his power was hanging by a thread. Every Moff in the Empire was mobilizing his private fleet, and there had already been several border clashes as old enemies took advantage of Jag’s distraction to make star grabs. His spies reported that the Moffs who were not attacking one another were as likely to join the fight against him as to support him against Daala. The Imperial Navy itself could not be trusted, either. In fact, Jag had been forced to dispatch entire fleets to the most remote corners of the Empire, for fear that their officers would side with Lecersen or Vansyn rather than Jag, the legitimate Head of State.

And now someone in the Home Fleet was letting blockade-runners slip through the cordon. He had no doubt that they were messengers, carrying offers of support that Daala and Lecersen would eagerly accept, no matter what they had to promise in return. If Jag did not end this insurrection soon, he was going to have a civil war on his hands. Perhaps he would have something even worse, with the Empire collapsing into anarchy and the Moffs turning on one another.

As Jag pondered the difficulties of keeping the Empire together, a dozen turbolaser beams flashed across the bridge display, targeting the Star Ranger as it entered Boreleo’s debris field. Stone sprayed everywhere, then the screen went white with luminous overload, and the image of the Star Ranger vanished before it grew obvious whether the little scoutship had been destroyed.

Jag waited, staring at the screen. When it did not clear after a couple of seconds, he turned to the task force commander, Admiral Vitor Reige, and cocked an expectant brow.

“I’ll have a report for you as soon as possible, Head of State.”

Reige, a tall, hook-nosed man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, shot a glance toward his aide, who started across the bridge to relay the inquiry to the Bloodfin’s captain. It was a frustratingly slow way to get a simple answer, but in the military, chain of command was all.

“Thank you, Admiral Reige.” Jag was fairly certain that the admiral remained loyal to the Empire’s legitimate Head of State. But Reige’s mentor had been Gilad Pellaeon himself, and it was impossible not to wonder what kind of effect the friendship between Pellaeon and Daala was having on the admiral’s judgment. “And you might ask for a tracking report. Whatever the Star Ranger’s fate, I’d be very interested to know how it slipped through our blockade.”

“As would I, Head of State,” Reige said. “At the moment, all I can think of is that the craft has been outfitted with stealth technology.”

“Sorry, Admiral—I only wish that was it,” said Tahiri Veila.

Standing at Jag’s shoulder on the side opposite Reige, she was unarmed and wearing bright red confinement bracelets around both wrists. Though Jag had every confidence that Tahiri intended to honor her promise to stand trial for murder, the brig gear was an overt statement of her status as an Imperial prisoner—and her idea. It had been aboard this very ship that she had killed Gilad Pellaeon. So Tahiri had offered to wear the restraints as a concession to the feelings of Vitor Reige and the many others who had loved Pellaeon as a father. Thus far, the strategy seemed to be working. There were plenty of sour looks and muttered insults, but the crew seemed to accept that she was merely on parole until a proper trial could be organized.

After a tense silence, Reige grudgingly acknowledged the comment by turning his head in her direction. “I take it you have another explanation, Prisoner Veila?”

“The Force,” Tahiri replied. “A powerful presence has entered the debris field—one I haven’t felt here before.”

“A powerful presence?” Reige scoffed. “And that would mean what, precisely?”

“Sith,” Jag said, trying to ignore the cold knot that had begun to form in his stomach. He turned to Tahiri. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”

Tahiri hesitated, her eyes fixed on the bridge display as the image returned to normal. Two of the kilometer-long massifs had been reduced to a collection of red-glowing boulders, and there was nothing of the Star Ranger to be seen.

Finally she said, “I certainly feel a darkness, but whether it’s Sith …” Her gaze shifted toward the forward viewport, beyond which the shattered moon appeared to be little more than a tiny ball of flame at the convergence point of a steady stream of turbolaser strikes. “All I can say is that whoever’s out there, they are strong in the Force. Very strong.”

“And still alive.” The remark came from directly behind Tahiri, where Jag’s Chiss aide and bodyguard, Ashik, was standing. “You feel that, as well?”

Tahiri nodded. “I do.”

“Most impressive, prisoner Veila,” Reige said drily. “With you aboard, one wonders why we need sensor crews at all.”

“I was wondering that before the prisoner spoke, Admiral,” Jag said, putting a little durasteel in his voice. He could understand Reige’s indignation at having Tahiri walking free aboard the Bloodfin, but her Jedi abilities were too useful at the moment to leave her locked in the brig—and it was time for Reige to recognize that. “Had she been sitting at a sensor station, perhaps she would have spotted the infiltrator before it was silhouetted against the debris field.”

As Jag spoke, Reige’s aide returned and whispered something into the admiral’s ear. The look of puzzlement that came to Reige’s face quickly changed to one of vindication, and he turned back to Jag with a look approaching defiance.

“I doubt it would have made any difference who was at the sensor stations, Head of State.” Reige pointed to a holopad in the fleet admiral’s salon at the back of the bridge, then said, “The Star Ranger seems to be using a new form of jamming technology. If you would care to join me, I’ll explain.”

By the time Jag and the others had retreated into the salon, the tactical hologram of the Exodo II planetary system was already on display. The image portrayed an outer shell of designator symbols beginning with the letters ISS—for “Imperial Sienar Sentinel”—surrounding a mottled green-and-black sphere. Save for the lack of clouds, the planet looked identical to the world Jag saw every night outside his stateroom window. The task force, hanging in orbit where the moon Boreleo used to be, was a knot of designator symbols too tangled to read.

Reige nodded, and his aide pointed a remote control at the holopad. A moment later a circle of perhaps thirty ISS symbols dissolved into static.

“The time scale has been compressed a thousandfold,” Reige explained. “Every second on the holo represents a little over a quarter hour in real time.”

The static circle continued to expand for a couple of moments, then quickly began to shrink and elongate in the direction opposite Exodo II’s spin. Within three seconds—about three-quarters of a standard real-time hour—the circle had narrowed into a short, slender band that was traveling around the planet toward the task force.

“The static resulted from an energy flash that traveled along this route, temporarily blinding sensors,” Reige’s aide explained. “At the time, the reconnaissance officers attributed it to a solar flare and didn’t worry about it.”

“Which is a very bad mistake, and one they had better not make again,” Jag said. He turned to Tahiri. “Would you care to explain what we’re seeing?”

“Of course, Head of State.” Tahiri’s gaze remained fixed on the holo. “It’s a Force flash.”

“A Force flash, prisoner Veila?” Reige said. “I’m afraid you’ll need to define the term for those of us who aren’t on intimate terms with members of the Jedi Order.”

“It’s a countersurveillance technique,” Jag said, doing the explaining himself. “The Jedi use it to temporarily blind security cams and intrusion alarms. On the vids, it looks like a minor glitch.”

Tahiri nodded. “Exactly. But this one …” She fell silent as the hologram changed scales to depict the inner cordon of the blockade, and then she turned to face Jag. “This one is very powerful. Even Grand Master Skywalker isn’t strong enough to blind a picket boat’s sensors at those kinds of ranges.”

“If you’re trying to tell us it was no Jedi piloting that Star Ranger, there’s no need,” Jag said. “I have it on good authority that the Jedi like Daala even less than I do at the moment.”

This drew a polite laugh—no more—from the staff officers.

But Tahiri’s expression remained serious. “Actually, Head of State Fel, what I’m trying to suggest is that the pilot can’t be Sith, either.”

She pointed at the hologram, which now showed the designator symbols of six destroyers and thirty escort vessels arrayed around the shattered remnants of the moon Boreleo. Fully half of the vessels were engulfed in static.

“Not with enough strength to blind that many starships.”

Jag saw the fear come into her eyes and knew what she was thinking. “Go ahead and say it, Tahiri,” he said. “Admiral Reige will need to know.”

“Very well.” Tahiri swallowed, then said, “I think we’ve found Abeloth.”