The masters of Coruscant's weather had engineered a rainstorm the day before that had greyed the skies over Galactic City but washed away much of the dirt and pollution in its air. Clouds retreated overnight, and the following sunrise cast everything in a white-gold glow. From the empress' office, the skyline looked like rows of polished jewels spread out for miles in the newly-pure air.

Marasiah had been hoping to feel similar clarity inside her, but after Ganner Krieg and Azlyn Rae's return from Vorzyd V, the situation was more muddied than ever. They'd extracted verbal confession from a Black Sun lieutenant that they'd arranged the assassination attempt on Bavinyar and Ganner insisted he'd seen recorded video of the local vigo getting a visit from Darth Havok. The implications were staggering, but they'd failed to produce any hard evidence, even a copy of the video. Indeed, the only material proof they'd brought of their efforts were Ganner's injuries: cracked ribs, a broken leg, and a shattered foot.

It wasn't enough to satisfy anyone, lest of all her uncle Hogrum. He was back in her office, pacing tightly again. His black-cloaked form seemed to absorb all the room's morning light.

"Right now we should keep this information to ourselves," he said. "If we bring it to the attention of the senate they'll ask for more than hearsay, but we don't have that, and it will make our case look even more tenuous."

"We still have to act on it."

"Act how? It would be one thing if we knew where the Sith were, or why they attacked you."

"We know why they attacked. They wanted to sow discord in the Federation and they've succeeded."

Since the election of Tem Brighton to speaker of the senate, dozens of senators from Imperial-aligned sectors had staged walkouts in protest of 'the election of a terrorist supporter.' It wasn't enough to keep the senate from having a voting quorum, but tempers were at a boiling point. Apparently there had also been an attempt on Porat Derrol's life, in the supposedly-secure senatorial apartment complex no less, which kept the pro-Alliance senators feeling righteously victimized. More than ever she regretted creating the legislative body.

"If we had any evidence it might calm tempers," said Hogrum, "But this would just feed more rumor. Frankly, I'm not sure there is evidence to be found."

"What do you mean?"

"I understand Masters Krieg and Rae have a personal attachment in this case, but I don't think they were the best to send to Vorzyd."

"You think attachments clouds their judgment?"

"Partially. Sia, all we have is his word that Darth Havok- Eshkar Niin- visited Vigo Pleshchai. Azlyn Rae couldn't identify him from the recording."

"Master Rae never met Niin. Or Havok."

"No, and because they weren't allowed to copy this record- apparently- all we have is Master Krieg's hearsay. He and your husband were close. It's natural he'd want Antares' death to be part of some grand Sith scheme."

His words stuck to the bone; when Marasiah had heard the report about Havok her heart had irrationally swelled. If she could get justice for Antares and her mother, and bring down the Sith too, she might finally shake the feeling of failure that had been crushing her since Bavinyar.

Sobered, she asked him, "Why else do you think sending Ganner was a bad idea?"

"Frankly, Sia… I'd recommend against sending Imperial Knights on missions this critical. Leave it to my intelligence operatives."

She rankled at the thought of relegating her Knights to ceremonial jobs. "All Imperial Knights were trained to work in the field."

"They were trained to use the Force. Their instinct is to call on it, even when they can't." He sighed. "I like this even less than you do. Losing the Force has… hampered me. It's hurt all your Knights. With stakes this high you need operatives that you can trust to operate at their best capacity. None of your Knights can do that."

"And what should I do with them instead?"

"I don't know. I'm just telling you facts."

It would be a humiliation to strip her Knights of their duties, but as her uncle had said, it might also be necessary. "I'll need to think about this. In the meantime-"

She was interrupted by a buzz from her desktop comm system. She tapped a button to open the line. "Speak."

"Majesty," said Astraal Vao, "Admiral Stazi is here to see you. He says it's urgent."

Marasiah glanced up at her uncle. His relationship with the admiral was deteriorating and would be ruined altogether if Stazi found out he'd been spied on. Stiffly Hogrum said, "Perhaps I should excuse myself."

"Send him in," Marasiah told Astraal, then told her uncle, "Wait here for a moment. We'll see what he has to say."

Stazi came through the doors a second later wearing his Alliance admiral's uniform, an announcement in itself. Before he spoke she sensed him through the Force and found no anger, only eager resolve.

"Empress," he said, and to Hogrum, "Director. I think you'll both want to hear this."

"Hear what?" she asked.

"I've just received critical intelligence from one of my operatives about the war in the Outer Rim."

"What sources specifically?" asked Hogrum, automatically skeptical of Alliance intel.

"I believe you're both familiar with Anj Dahl and Rogue Squadron. You may also know that a former Rogue is part of a Mandalorian faction seeking overthrow of Yaga Auchs."

"We know of them," Marasiah said. Dahl and her Mandalorian contacts had worked with Shado Vao and Azlyn Rae last year in a fruitless attempt to find Darth Maladi.

"Commander Dahl's contact, Hondo Karr, has just sent us some stunning news. First, the Nagai warleader Relik K'sharn is also Darth Nihl, reigning Lord of the Sith."

Marasiah and Hogrum both stiffened in shock. The intel director said, "How did Karr learn this?"

"He didn't specify. He only said that he'd obtained a source very closer to the Mandalore."

It made perfect sense. Darth Nihl had escalated his Outer Rim campaigns the very same day he'd arranged the assassination on Bavinyar. The Federation had since been riven with confusion and anger, which in turn crippled its response to Nihl's assaults.

"That's still hearsay," Hogrum said. "We'll need more specific intel if we're going to act."

"He'd provided some." Stazi held up two green fingers and tapped the first. "One, he suggests that the next push will be in the Atravis sector, up the Hydian way. He says it will be mostly a Ssi-ruuk affair, while the Mandalorians and the Nagai solidify control over the Javin sector."

"We'll ready a counteroffensive at once," said Marasiah.

"With all due respect, I recommend we hold off acting on this intelligence." Stazi tapped his second finger. "Karr also informed us that the Ssi-ruuvi battle droids are currently being powered by brains of Geonosian manufacture."

Hogrum's eye narrowed in thought. The handful of tiny pyramidal Ssi-ruuvi battle droids they'd recovered from combat zones were a visible departure from the ones they'd used a century before. New mechanisms had been installed to power and operate the machines, which had seemed to corroborate Hogrum's report that the Ssi-ruuvi entechment scheme was no longer working. Because of the alien nature of Ssi-ruuvi technology and the battle-damaged state of recovered specimens, they'd been unable to decipher much from the modifications, though some had suggested that the new computer brains resembled those used by the Colicoids, Genosians, and other insectoid droid-making races.

"You're recommending a fast strike at Geonosis," Hogrum said. Marasiah caught a hint of admiration.

"I am," Stazi nodded. "We don't know whether the Geonosians have exported any of their droid-making tech to Lwhekk or another Ssi-ruuvi world, but we can at least cut off the source."

"And the counteroffensive at Atravis?"

"Frankly, I don't want to risk exposing our new intel source this early. Countering them at Atravis might do that. If we attack Geonosis, Nihl's more likely to think we deciphered their technology or found an informant within the Geonosians themselves."

That left Atravis open to conquest, destruction, and death, but breaking the Ssi-ruuvi supply of battle droids would end this campaign sooner. It was a hard choice, but Stazi had never shied away from those. Marasiah looked between the admiral and her uncle and sensed they were in rare concord.

"Very well," Marasiah said, "Take Geonosis. It will be interesting to see how the Ssi-ruuk and Nagai react to that."

"Excellent," Stazi bobbed his head eagerly. "We can't afford to tip our hand before we attack. General Jaeger and Admiral Slossar should continue to hold their current positions. One of them might reposition near Atravis so they're able to respond quickly once the new offensive starts."

She finally understood Stazi's eagerness. "You plan to lead the offensive yourself, Admiral?"

"I'd very much like to. Empress, I'm a soldier at heart, not a politician. I can lead Admiral Bey's fleet. Any Imperials willing to work under my authority are welcome. We've been on the defensive this entire campaign, but we can shift everything in our favor with one strike."

Her eyes shifted to Hogrum. Her uncle nodded very slightly, which was good; Marasiah had no intention of stopping Stazi. "Ready your fleet," she said. "I'll ask Admirals Fenel and Yage if they're willing to spare some ships."

"Excellent. I'll draw an invasion plan right away."

He was already turning for the door. She called, "Admiral, one more thing."

He spun back to face her. "Yes, Empress?"

"You should know we've uncovered evidence the Sith were behind the assassination attempt on Bavinyar."

She felt Hogrum's discomfort, but Stazi's wide eyes grew wider. "Have you now?"

"The evidence is limited and nothing we can put to the public. But I want you to know the battle you're fighting. Expect subterfuge."

"I will," he nodded. "Thank you, Empress."

He spun again and marched out of the room. She could sense her uncle's frustration but he held his tongue. Maybe this, she thought, was the turning point they needed. With the Sith defeated she might salvage the Federation after all.

-{}-

Darth Havok had never felt so reduced. He had no bacta for his scorched abdomen, no comm to call for help, and no blaster to defend himself in Coruscant's underword. He had no cast for his broken shoulder and no medicine for the stabbing pain. His only tool left was, of all things, a damned set of macrobinoculars. If he'd had the Force he would have overcome all the rest, but he was deaf and blind, his helplessness complete.

He'd gotten as far away from his crash site as he could. He didn't know if they were still searching for him, but he had to assume they'd be thorough. Moving was agonizing and slow, and as soon as he'd found a door he'd gone inside, where he'd be harder to spot.

Coruscant's shining towers grew dark and neglected the further down you went. Warrens existed miles directly beneath clean office spaces and government buildings. Sometimes they held forgotten treasure; after retrieving a glowrod, Havok spent uncounted hours scouring the long-abandoned rooms of one building until he'd found a disused medical center and with it several containers of expired bacta. He'd slathered the liquid on his stomach wound regardless. The pain receded somewhat, and it became easier to move.

In counting all he lacked, Havok had overlooked the most crucial thing of all. Eventually he became painfully hungry, and nothing in these abandoned levels was edible. He crept outside and found it was night. He didn't even know what he was looking for, only that he'd have to scavenge or steal, as he had no credits to buy with.

He wandered for hours more, jumping at shadows until he spotted a flickering firelight further down the artificial canyon, perhaps a hundred meters beneath. Where he'd have once dropped down and used the Force to soften the landing, he now had to search for a stairwell or a ladder, and when he finally did he was forced to backtrack to the firelight. By the time he got near his entire insides felt yawning and empty. Weariness as much as pain made it hard to walk.

Havok counted three figures laying around the fire. In the darkness they were only lumped shapes, and when he drew near it became clear all three were sleeping. Homeless drifters, probably. There were worse kinds of scum lurking in Coruscant's underlevels, Havok knew, and he counted himself lucky. Moving as quietly as he could, he examined the things these indigents had gathered. Piles of dirty clothing assaulted his senses, but he spotted a few packages of nonperishable food in the firelight. Ater turning off his glowlamp he bent low to pick one up, but pain stabbed out of his side. He couldn't keep himself from crying in pain as he sunk to his knees.

The noise roused all three indigents. They kicked back their ratty blankets and reared up to stare at him, and the closest one, an Aqualish, barked and lunged forward. Havok skirted back in panic, dropping the glowlamp, but the Aqualish kept coming, waving its arms in anger.

"Hold up, hold up!" said a voice from behind Havok.

The Sith jerked and looked around to see a dirty human raising his hands. The Aqualish seemed cowed and no longer advanced; instead it sat on its haunches are glared in silence. Firelight played unnervingly across the curve of its large black eyes.

"Gorok don't like you touching his things," the man said. He smiled beneath his tangled beard but there was a touch of menace. Havok realized, sickeningly, that his life was in the hands of these pathetic beings.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

The third indigent, a Nimbanel with withered gray skin, said, "What want, you?"

"I just need food." He tried to adjust posture but pain shot out from his side again, and his face screwed in a wince.

"Hurt, you?" the Nimbanel asked stupidly.

"I'll be all right," Havok lied.

The Aqualish barked something. Havok guessed it might have been get your own food.

The human, though, looked sympathetic. "Maybe we can get you a little," he said. "How long you been down here?"

"Long enough," Havok grunted.

They all watched him carefully. They could tell he was hurt and probably that he'd only ended up in the underlevels recently. He wasn't safe among them, but he needed food badly.

The human scooted over to another pile of filthy clothes. He pulled them back to reveal an equally ratty but intact tarp, then pulled back the tarp to reveal his food stash. He took out a small container and held it out. Military-grade rations. No taste but plenty of valuable nutrients.

"Thank you," Havok said, and wondered why the man had given up something so valuable so easily. He looked at the Aqualish and Nimbanel, both edging closer and from different directions. He'd never be able to take all three at once and he felt a wash of panic.

"It's mine," the human said warningly, "But you can have a piece."

The Aqualish barked and waved a hand. The Nimbanel said, "Ask nicely, you."

Did they want him to beg before they killed him? Havok burned with anger and shame. Without the Force he had no way to use those emotions. Growling he said, "Please let me have some rations."

"Good." The human smiled through his beard again. "Gorok, help him out."

Havok saw a shadow in firelight, and that gave him a second's warning before the Aqualish came at him with a knife drawn. His combat training from both the Sith and Imperial Knights took over. Still seated, he pivoted and snapped an elbow into the Aqualish's face. The creature dropped his knife and Havok grabbed it with his left hand. His right arm formed a hook and snared the Aqualish's thick neck. The alien howled and kicked while the human and Nimbanel rushed to help subdue Havok.

The Sith lashed out with the knife. The blade cut across the human's face and he fell back, but when his hands pulled away Havok was surprised how little blood flowed from the wound. At the same time the Aqualish struggled, broke free, and pushed Havok into a pile of filthy rags. The creature lunged at him and even as pain filled his body he lashed out with the knife again. It skirted across the Aqualish's chest, tearing ratty clothes but not flesh. The human came to help pin Havok down, but the Sith lashed out with the knife again and this time plunged it straight and hard into the man's neck. Blood geysered; he howled and fell back, kicking violent death-throes. The Aqualish was stunned, and Havok reached out, grabbed the glowlamp he'd dropped earlier, and slammed its butt-end hard against the Aqualish's skull. There were one more howl as it fell back, but Havok threw himself on top and repeatedly smashed the glowlamp's hard metal end in the grey cranium until he'd cracked it open, spilling orange blood to mix with the human's.

Panting, panicked, Havok looked up. The Nimbanel was running away and soon disappeared in the night. Havok had neither the strength nor will to chase. He staggered back, off the Aqualish's body, and dropped bottom-first onto the ferrocrete. The human had stopped breathing and stopped moving. Havok felt a giddy rush fill him; the indigents had tried to take him by surprise and mob him three-on-one, but he'd beaten them. Even wounded, even without the Force, he was still a danger to be reckoned with. He still deserved to call himself Sith.

Before getting up to rummage for more food, he reached over and pulled the knife from the dead man's throat. He wiped blood on his trouser-leg and looked at the blade clearly for the first time. He realized why it had taken so more force to do damage with it; rather than the vibro-blade he'd assumed, it had dull edges and a rounded tip. A knife for cutting food, he realized. The Aqualish had been trying to help him.

Triumph evaporated. Still holding the knife, Havok looked around the dead bodies, the blood-washed ferrocrete, and the pile of filth in which he sat. Bile rose in his stomach and against himself he keeled over and vomited from an empty stomach. As acid burned his throat he couldn't help but think that this was how his life would end. Once one of Roan Fel's most respected Knights, he'd murdered his beloved empress and become Sith in search of something greater. His search had led him here.

He tried to tell himself he couldn't give up, not even now. When he was ready he began to search again for food. He'd eat it far from here. He'd survive one day at a time if he had to. Havok was a Sith, by choice and deed. He had to find a way to save himself. He repeated it like a mantra. He had to find a way.

-{}-

With the Force a healer could mend broken bones, even those as badly fractured as Ganner's, within hours. The time for those miracles had passed and instead he was forced to rely on standard medicine. Bacta was good at mending soft tissue but when it came to fixing a shattered foot or tibia, the only solution was bone splints, calcium injections, and a lot of rest.

Being stuck in a hospital bed was the last thing Ganner needed right now. He had nothing to do except replay the stupid and shameful decisions he'd made at Vorzyd. Worse, it recalled the long days of isolation after being kidnapped by Maladi, where despair had nearly swallowed him whole.

Azlyn was paying him daily visits, just as she had before, and like before she was the one bright spot of his day. On the third day she came in with a look of concentration on her face, and instead of first asking Ganner how he was doing- the same as the past two days- she got down to business.

"It sounds like the pieces are coming together," she said. "Apparently Admiral Stazi got intel from an Alliance source that Darth Nihl and the Sith are behind the attacks in the Outer Rim."

Ganner pushed himself upright in his bed. "How did they learn that?"

"I don't know. I don't think they have hard proof either, but it makes sense. Terminus and Bavinyar happening at the same time was always too much to be a coincidence."

So it was the Sith who were responsible for Antares' death. Ganner felt satisfaction inside, and with it frustration that he was trapped in this bed, body broken because of his own rash misjudgments.

"Stazi's going to the Outer Rim personally to take command of the counteroffensive," Azlyn said. "There's not much we can do about that right now, but I've been looking into some other things that might be relevant."

"Like what?"

Azlyn crossed arms beneath her respiration chest-plate. "Kagar Aynes apparently had a connection to Senator Porat Derrol, one of Stazi's ex-soldiers and a close ally of Tem Brighton."

"I know. And?"

"I've been looking into Derrol. Apparently somebody tried to kill him around the same time we were off on Vorzyd."

"Apparently?"

She shrugged. "It happened in the speeder garage at the senator's apartment complex, but the incident report is really vague. No security cams got a good look at the assassin, despite the fact that he drove his speeder bike in and out the front gate."

"You could do that with the right kind of sensor-jammer."

"I know, but those aren't easy to find. Derrol's allies in the senate are saying that's proof some high-level Imps were trying to kill him." She shrugged again. "We're basically going off eyewitness reports. Derrol says a shadowy figure came up to him after he'd parked his speeder. He saw the guy draw a weapon and pulled his own."

"Senators go around armed nowadays?"

"After the accusations he's gotten, I guess he became justifiably paranoid. And he is ex-military. Derrol says he got one shot in the attacker. The guy went back to his bike and fled. Derrol says he kept firing and winged the bike on the way out of the garage. Investigators picked up some outside holo-cam footage that show the bike falling fast into the chasms."

"So the assassin's dead?"

"Maybe. What piqued my interest was that a few other eyewitnesses confirmed Derrol's attacker was an Iktotchi."

Ganner tried to reign in his enthusiasm. "The galaxy's full of Iktotchi. We don't know it was Havok."

"If it was, I'm really interested as to why he was paying Derrol a visit. It goes against all we learned on Vorzyd. Black Sun put Aynes on the job, not Derrol. Unless Derrol recommended him to Black Sun…"

That seemed too convoluted. Ganner shook his head. "If Derrol was working with Havok, why did Derrol try to kill him?"

"I have no idea. Like you just said, we don't even know it's Havok."

"You wouldn't have brought this up if you didn't think it was worth looking into."

"I know. I've talked to the empress. She's agreed to assign a team of security officers and intel agents to trawl the lower levels with me. Whoever went after Derrol, she wants him found. If he's dead, she wants his body."

Ganner hoped the assassin was Havok and Havok was alive. He hoped he could repay some of his grief onto a Sith, personally, and there was none he'd rather repay it on than the one who'd betrayed his oath as an Imperial Knight.

Azlyn must have seen that in his face. She reached down and took his hand. "Don't get too excited. All of this is a long shot."

"I know."

"And Ganner…" She hesitated. "I know you've been through a lot. More than any other Knight, maybe. Before all this started, you were always the calm one. The one who was at peace with himself and could help show the rest of us how to best serve the Force." She squeezed his hand lightly. "I always admired that about you."

They'd not talked about his violent outburst on Vorzyd. He was hoping they never would. "It's been… difficult," he admitted. "When I had the Force, I could feel it guide me. I could feel peace. Now… I don't have that. All I have is me."

And he hated what he'd become: a plague vector that spread disease worse than death, a man who flailed in the water while his best friend was gunned down before him, a Knight who forgot his own limitations and ended up broken in a hospital because of it.

Azlyn squeezed his hand again. It wasn't much, but it kept choking despair away. "We can still get through this. Stay here. Heal your body and your mind. Let me do what I can about Havok."

"Of course," he said. "I trust you."

He realized he trusted her more than anyone right now. She'd adapted better than most to losing the Force. When she'd had it, she'd been torn between Jedi and Imperial Knight, rival careers and rival purposes. After losing both options she seemed to have gained a practical focus on the problem directly ahead of her. He envied her that.

Azlyn withdrew her hand from his. "Sit tight. Heal up. I'm going to need your help when you're back in shape."

"I look forward to it," Ganner said.