It seemed like an onslaught of good news from the Outer Rim: Darth Nihl killed, Bakura and other key worlds liberated, the Nagai and Ssi-ruuk in retreat after a mid-battle turnaround by the Mandalorians savaged their fleets. On Coruscant, senators from the Imperial and Alliance blocs both praised the decisive conclusion of the conflict. Never mind that the fighting wasn't over, nor that things had only turned after weeks of muddy response hobbled by political chaos. Beings were electing to take this victory as a sign of more good things to come.

Marasiah didn't want to dash the good mood, but she couldn't share in it either. Everything about Eshkar Niin's capture and death disturbed her. Her uncle's actions appalled her and they'd barely spoken since, but the accusations Niin had raised before his killing couldn't be ignored. Hogrum had wanted to act right away and arrest not only Senator Derrol but Stazi himself. She'd denied him that and said she'd look into it further before taking action. That was why she'd invited Azlyn Rae to her office. The young woman stood in front of her empress' desk in her red armor. For a long time it had seemed like she'd exchange them for her old Jedi robes or new garb entirely; strange it was Azlyn's loyalty she could now rely on most.

"Be very careful when speaking to Derrol," she said. "Don't bring up his meeting with Stazi right away. Prod him about his relationship with Niin but don't volunteer information. Don't even tell him Niin was a Sith."

"I understand," said Azlyn. "Empress, given how Derrol acted against Eshkar Niin, should we come ready for violence?"

"I don't think he'll do anything rash if you speak to him in his office. Make sure you have at least two of my guards escort you."

"I'd like to bring Master Krieg along too."

Marasiah felt a flush of shame for not visiting Ganner in the medical center. He'd always been a loyal Knight, and her husband's best friend. "Has he recovered from his injury?"

"Enough to walk with minor assistance. Frankly, Empress, he's ready to get out of that bed."

"Then you can take him. Don't announce your visit beforehand. Go to the senate building and request to see Derrol on my authority. How he reacts will be telling."

Azlyn looked out the window. Afternoon sun was tinting gold and shadows were falling from skyscrapers. "Should we talk to him today?"

"Yes. Leave as soon as Ganner can get ready."

"I understand. Is there anything else?"

Marasiah hadn't told her that Havok was dead, nor how he'd died. It was a conversation she'd have to have, but she had no desire to start it now. "That's enough. Thank you, Master Rae."

"You're welcome, Empress."

Azlyn gave a short bow, then turned to leave the room. As she stepped through the door she nearly ran into Hogrum, who looked down on her with his red mechanical eye as she skirted around. When she was gone, Marasiah's uncle strode into the office and asked, "What was Master Rae here for?"

"A minor matter," Marasiah said guardedly. "What is it?"

"I have agents standing by to monitor Senator Derrol's apartment. I request your permission to arrest him this evening and take him in for questioning."

"Will you 'question' him like you did Niin?"

"It was necessary to use extreme methods to extract information from him."

"Don't lie to me, Uncle," she glowered. "You enjoyed torturing him. You wanted revenge. I wanted it myself. At least do the decency of not lying to me."

"I don't regret anything I did there," Hogrum said stiffly. "I forced Niin to confess the full scale of his actions. The operatives we've scooped up confirms what he's been telling us."

"Not that he met Derrol before Bavinyar."

"There are gaps," he admitted, "But we have proof Derrol and Stazi were conspiring about something. Sia, you must let me investigate this with every tool available."

It pained her to realize she no longer trusted her uncle. Their bond had been strained for some time, but his killing of Niin, justified or not, had broken something that might never be repaired. "I will handle this in my own way," she said. "In the meantime, I suggest you focus on external threats. You have some of Niin's agents. Interrogate them- without torture- and find more links to the Sith. Nihl is dead, and from what we can tell, many others were killed when the Mandalorians switched sides."

"We thought the Sith were defeated after the Floating World," Hogrum said.

"Exactly. If there are any left, Uncle, I want you to find them. I also want you to work with the admirals and get all the information you can on the Nagai and Ssi-ruuk. They looked like they're falling back to their home sectors but we have to be sure. Do you have objections to any of that?"

"I'll gladly do what you ask, but I cannot ignore Niin's accusations. Sia, you're letting Antares' killers go free. You say you're preserving peace but what we have now is a false peace, one erected by liars and killers."

Marasiah took a deep breath and quelled her anger. She reached out with the Force to sense his feelings. "Do you trust me, Uncle?"

He stared down at her, expression blank. "I've always trusted you."

She couldn't tell if he meant it. Like Niin, he'd been trained to wall off his feelings from the Force. "Will you do as I've ordered?"

"I will, Empress."

"Then do it."

Their eyes held for a tense moment. Then he turned and walked out of the room. When he was gone she felt her energy drain. If Antares were here, she thought, he'd have offered some brash conviction that would have shown her what she needed to do. But he was gone, and she was alone.

Marasiah looked at the skyline and remembered the victories in the Outer Rim, the routed Sith. Maybe the optimists were right and things might finally turn around. She tried to believe, but when she thought of Eshkar Niin, her mother's friend and betrayer, slumped in his interrogation chair with a lightsaber slash through the face, there was no comfort to be had.

-{}-

Locked inside his comfortable prison, Shado Vao barely noticed the liberation of Bakura. The space battle took place high above and unseen. Through his window he noted the lift-off of several Ssi-ruuvi shuttles without interest. The bombardment of the repulsorlift factory roused him to his window, but he could only see smoke rising in the far distance. He was vaguely aware that it came from the direction of the factory, but he didn't make the mental connection; he'd just assumed Darth Nihl had fallen into another wrathful mood.

Even after a pair of humans in olive-green Imperial uniforms opened his door and explained all that had happened, he found it hard to care. Even word of Nihl's death gave no satisfaction. He hated the Sith but even more he hated what he'd done, and there was no way to undo it or heal the damage now writ plan across Bakura's face.

The Imperials explained that Ambassador Storr had been found and released as well, and both of them would be taken to a star destroyer in orbit. From there, they'd be fully debriefed.

Shado wondered what Storr would say about him. He wondered if he would face any punishment for his actions here. He'd done nothing illegal but he felt, nonetheless, that something should be done to him. It was unfair that Bakura should suffer so much while he escaped without a scratch on his body.

As the Imperials started to escort him, Shado remembered something. He asked, "What happened to President Recado?"

They looked at each other, slightly confused, as though they didn't remember the name. Then one said, "We believe he was released also."

That was tiny relief, the first Shado had felt since Bakura fell. "Where is he now?" The Imperials hesitated. "Please, I'd like to know."

The older officer stepped aside and brought out his comlink. Shado waited patiently until the man turned back to him. "The president has returned to his office."

"May I see him? He's just a few levels above us." Again the Imperial hesitated. He added, "I won't take long. You have my word."

"All right," the older officer conceded, then added out of nothing, "My father said I should always trust a Jedi's word."

The words, meant in kindness, were a knife to Shado's heart. It was fresh pain to mix with the dulled kind he'd been swimming in since the bombardments began. When he reached Recado's office he was surprised by its state. Blaster-marks scorched a few walls, the desk had been over-turned, and something, possibly blood, stained patches of the carpet.

The president sat in a chair behind his toppled desk. He was looking down at it as though he was expecting the thing to pull itself upright. He only raised his bald head when Shado stepped right beside him.

The old man blinked. "Master Jedi. I thought you'd be gone now."

"They're about to take me up to a star destroyer." He didn't need to add that he'd never return to Bakura and they'd never see each other again. He wanted to express so much more, but his thoughts were so tangled he couldn't put them to order. Pathetically he said, "I'm sorry. For everything." For his vanity and idealism, if there was any difference between the two.

Recado pivoted his chair to face the window. From this view, the city seemed almost perfectly split between preserved and bombed-out portions. Shado knew the real devastation spread far wider.

"It seems most of the P'w'eck left with the Ssi-ruuk," the president said softly. "Back to their old masters. What we'll do with the others… I don't know." He opened one hand to show the Balance crest in his palm, an oval split between black and white. "I hear the Ssi-ruuk are in retreat. The Nagai too. The rest of the galaxy is celebrating. Perhaps we're paying for their joy. Do you think that, Master Jedi?"

"I don't know," Shado said. He didn't understand anything anymore. He was wondering if he ever had.

Recado waved a hand at the carpet-stains and said, "Nihl was killed right here, did you know that?"

"I didn't."

"His own mercenaries betrayed him. They say it was a shot to the head." His hand closed around the Balance symbol. "I wish I could have seen it."

As much as he'd hated Nihl when the Sith called down the bombardment, Shado didn't regret missing his death. As he looked at the room's damage he felt, strangely, a tug of empathy for his enemy. Shado had tried to continue acting like a Jedi even without the Force to guide him, but it had let to ruin. In his own way Nihl had followed the same path. Maybe, if they'd had the Force, they'd have avoided their catastrophic errors. Maybe it would have made their mistakes even more disastrous.

"Rebuilding will be difficult," Recado said, half to himself. "Our people, our industry…"

"How many died?"

"Millions. It will be a long time before we know exactly."

"I'm so sorry," Shado whispered. Words could never convey the enormity of his regret.

Recado sighed and looked back to closed hands. "With all respect, Master Jedi… I wish you'd never come to Bakura."

So did Shado. It was just one action of many he could never undo and never rectify. Without another word, he turned from the old man and joined the Imperial escorts. They seemed eager to be gone.

-{}-

The sun shone incongruously bright on Salis D'aar's ruined cityscape. It glared white on black husks of buildings, landspeeders flash-melted into durasteel balls by superheated explosions, boulevards buried beneath layers of ash. The bombardment had been days ago but everything still smelled of burning and death. Marin knew this scene would forever overwrite her old memories of Bakura, and it stole satisfaction from a mission accomplished.

Free Agent, with Ania's friends at the helm, had set down beside Yaga Auchs' ship near the president's pyramid. The rugged freighter and the company Mando assault shuttle looked incongruous together, which fit the strange feeling inside Marin as she stood a meter apart from Auchs. They had their armor on but helmets off, and rank-smelling wind played with their gray hair as it washed over the landing pad.

"I'm not expecting you to tell me where you'll go next," he said. "But I fulfilled our bargain. Didn't I?"

"You did."

He'd even given her tiny warning before shooting Nihl, which had allowed her to wrest the Sith's lightsaber from Ania's throat. She found herself more grateful for that than everything else.

"I want your word now," he said. "No more coming after me. No more trying to expose the truth from Botajef. That happened a long time ago. It's time we all moved on."

Those were words of a murderer evading justice for his crimes, but they might also be true. Perspective was a strange thing. Forty years ago her decision to spare Yaga Auchs had been a tiny redemptive act for her crime of killing his father. Long after it had become the source of burning regret, and Auchs the subject of her sublimated self-loathing. Now, finally, Marin saw the effect of her choice play out across the stars and end a war. Maybe this war would never have happened if she'd killed young Auchs; maybe it would have raged wider. There was so much she could never know, and it seemed to her now, after so many years of being so many different women, that the only way to stay sane was to do what her heart told her was right and march forward without looking back.

It was something Ania had told her, though she'd never used those words.

"I was a Jedi once," she told him. "And Jedi don't believe in retribution."

"Mandos do." Anger cut through his voice. "I'm never forgetting what you did to my buir. I'll never forgive either."

"That's your right," she said softly. She didn't have to add that he'd killed people she cared about too.

Auchs' right hand hovered closer to the butt of his holstered blaster, and for a second it edged closer to the weapon. Marin didn't remind him that Ania and Liem were watching from Free Agent's landing ramp, nor that Sora watched from the shuttle's.

Auchs didn't need a reminder. He lifted his hand and held it out. "I never want to see you again," he said. "If I do, I might not be charitable."

"You don't have to worry about me. I promise." She gave it a short, firm shake, then released. It felt like she was letting go of so much more.

Auchs took two steps back, eyes on hers. Then he turned and walked determinedly toward his shuttle. Marin went to join Ania and Liem. She stopped at the base of Free Agent's ramp and looked over her shoulder, one last time. Yaga Auchs had already disappeared inside his ship, but his daughter lingered. Sora met Marin's eyes for a second, and she could feel wariness and gratitude mixed together. The younger woman looked away first and walked into her ship.

"So what now?" asked Liem. "Are we… done?"

"I think so," Marin exhaled. She felt light and free, younger than she had in decades. "I would say we should go home… but I'm not sure where that is anymore."

"Simple." Ania put a hand on Free Agent's hull and smiled fondly. "It's always where the heart is."

-{}-

The shuttle that carried Yaga and his daughter off Bakura took them to his frigate, which in turn carried them further, all the way back to the Javin sector where the Mandalorian battle groups had gathered following the Ssi-ruuk and Nagai withdrawal. The trip was long enough for Yaga to review the reports from his lieutenants and survey the situation. The raiders were in retreat and without their leader it was doubtful their alliance would last. Coruscant had put out a statement that it would keep its fleets in the Outer Rim committed until they'd liberated every planet the invaders had taken. That could take time; the Ssi-ruuk in particular might be loathe to surrender consecrated worlds.

That left the fate of the Mandalorians an open question. The payment he'd negotiated from Stazi, and thus the Federation, was for help at Bakura and the other battle zones. They'd laid down no plans beyond that, and as he rode to the rendezvous Yaga pondered whether to take his soldiers back to Mandalore or to offer to help the Federation's mop-up operation, for a respectable price. He expected the Federation to refuse; they knew from both sides how fickle mercenary armies were, and they'd want to liberate those worlds themselves. Nonetheless, he decided it would be good to make the offer. The worse Coruscant could do was turn him down.

His thoughts had turned determinedly toward the future since Bakura. It was a strange thing, but it came with surprising ease. As he and Sora transferred from his frigate to the larger one that had commanded at Lutrillia, he told his daughter, "I'm not worried about finding work for our people. Even if the Federation turns us down- which they probably will- we've proven for the whole galaxy how well we can fight. That's the best kind of advertising."

"You don't want to keep our people on Mandalore?"

"I don't want us mixed up in big galactic affairs. I never have," he said grimly. They both knew the costs typically outweighed benefits. "We'll hold back and prove our worth in smaller fights. Things still aren't all settled on Coruscant, and if that gets messy again I want our people secure."

Sora nodded approvingly, but with a doubtful voice she asked, "Do you really think our backs are clear?"

"We'll find out one way or the other, but I think so."

"Then you trust that old woman."

He still hadn't told her their whole history. Maybe he never would; like her father, Sora needed to move beyond the past. "I don't think she'll knife us in the back. We made our bargain and I won't break it unless she does."

Sora gave him a surprised look but said nothing. Yaga guided their shuttle into the landing bay, and once it settled they unstrapped themselves from their seats, put on their helmets, and went out into the hangar.

The welcome party was larger than he'd expected, with over a dozen Mandos in full beskar. From their armor he recognized Thorum Rhal, Vaun Zerimar, and several other of his lieutenants. Their faces were hidden but their postures were stiff and alert, and Yaga knew instinctively that this wasn't a victory crowd. He stepped past Sora and with a hand gesture signaled her to remain behind.

"Welcome back, Mand'alor," said Rhal. "I heard you got what you wanted from Bakura."

"I did." He looked across the other masked helmets. "I know you've all got questions. I'll explain everything in time. I just want to say I'm proud of all my Mando'ade. You fought well, turned this war, and won us lots of credits from Coruscant too. We should all be happy."

"We should be," Rhal said. "But it's hard right now, Mand'alor."

There was reproach in the title, and Yaga stiffened. He held his hands carefully at his sides, a gunslinger's pose. "What's got up you upset, Thorum?"

Rhal's hand went to his belt and slowly, visibly, drew out a small holo-projector. He held the disc out toward Yaga, tapped it side, and summoned a blue holo-image. Yaga recognized himself with Sora standing to one side and Ania Solo bound between them. Together they faced Darth Nihl's gaunt light-and-dark figure.

He knew what was coming, but he couldn't look away as Nihl told his recorded replica, "You are impressive, Mand'alor. I'll make sure you're paid a handsome bonus for this."

And Yaga, deciding to haggle in hopes it would get those two Ssi-ruuk out of the room, said, "I'd like to talk about just how handsome."

"Of course you would." Nihl's voice turned condescending. "One hundred thousand credits."

"For this dal'ika I want more. Three hundred."

"You're getting too brazen, Auchs. That's more than we paid you to kill your own Mand'alor."

When those words had come out Yaga had felt in instinctive flash to deny it, then decided there was no point. Nihl knew exactly what he was and so did the others in that room. All he'd wanted to do was get those Ssi-ruuk away so they could kill Nihl. He hadn't thought about the exchange getting recorded on someone's helmet monitor.

Yaga watched himself say the condemning words. "I needed Ordo out of the way so I could be in charge. That was part of my reward. I couldn't care if this Solo woman lives or dies."

"Then you should take one hundred thousand and be happy."

"I'm giving her to you because I know you want her. I could have just let her go. This is a sign of friendship."

Rhal tapped the disc and ended the replay. He lowered it, put it in his belt, and shifted his hand to his blaster. "Got anything to add to your confession, Mand'alor?" He put absolute venom in the word. The others reached for their weapons too but nobody drew, not yet.

A strange melancholy settled over Yaga Auchs. He wasn't even sad or angry. All the lofty goals he'd conjured since Bakura dissolved like a dream as he faced hard justice. He'd thought he'd escaped it and never expected it to come like this, but now that it had he found himself taken by weary relief. He'd been running from it for so long, always looking over his shoulder, but that was over now. He could stop running and face the end bravely, like his father had.

The thought gave him freedom, except for one thing. With a click of the tongue Yaga changed his helmet's frequency to speak solely to his daughter. With a whisper he said, "Get to the shuttle. Run and don't look back."

She got out "Buir-" just as he grabbed his blaster. Rhal drew just as fast, and the other Mandos on his flank. Yaga didn't even try to dodge. Impact pounded his beskar chestplate, kicking him off his feet, dropping him on his back and stealing all his breath.

Nonetheless he raised his blaster and kept firing at the figures around him. There was another volley of laserfire, loud and bright and so close, and he only realized his right arm hurt when he couldn't raise it. Other parts of his body hurt too; hip, left side, shoulder. He caught the whiff of scorched flesh and fabric and knew some of their shots had landed true. Not even beskar could stop everything.

He groped his left hand across his body, grabbed the blaster, and fired again. One of his attackers was knocked back, he couldn't tell which. Another rain of laserfire blinded him and washed pain over his body, but the pain was gone in a second. His entire body turned numb; nothing moved anymore. He couldn't even turn his head.

As darkening shadows loomed over him, Yaga saw a wash of light and heard the roar of starship engines. The noise faded and then the light, and then even shadows started fading to black. He couldn't feel much anymore except satisfaction that Sora had gotten away, and the hope she might escape grief and fear like he never had.

Maybe she would, maybe not. He'd never know. The choice was hers now.

-{}-

Fatigue came on suddenly and strong, as it often did nowadays, and Marasiah retreated to her quarters shortly after the sun went down. Barely remembering the job she'd sent Azlyn and Ganner on, she told them to report directly to her once they'd spoken with Derrol, then settled in for the night.

She quickly decided she'd be glad for some company. Her quarters felt hollow without Antares, and never more so than in early evening, when the darkness and silence grew oppressive with memories of happier nights. To chase them away she turned on reports from civilian news-nets and found them quite triumphant over the situation in the Outer Rim. The conflict was getting more attention now than it had when at its peak, but she couldn't feel cynical even when she tried. People wanted to hear about triumphs, not the truth.

She was nearly lulled to sleep when the entry buzzer sounded from her door. She forced herself upright, shut off the holo, and staggered to get feet. She was halfway to the entrance when it occurred to her how strange it was to have her door rung directly, without being told someone was coming. She was sure Azlyn and Ganner would contact her in advance before arriving.

Curious and too tired to make sense of things, Marasiah went to the door and opened it. Her uncle stood directly in front of her, black-cloaked form almost filling the doorway, but over his shoulders she could see four stormtroopers, one of whom seemed to be wearing an extra pack on his back.

"I'm sorry, Sia," her uncle said, "But you have to come with me."

"What?" She blinked weary eyes. "Uncle, what are you talking about?"

"You have to come with me," he repeated. "I promise you won't be harmed."

Her tired mind struggled to understand. She looked past him again and saw the nearest stormtroopers had their rifles drawn and at their sides. Their postures were tense and expectant. Marasiah tried to reach out with the Force and find their intentions but she felt nothing from the men before her. She tried to sense her uncle but again, nothing. Not a carefully-walled mind, only a void. She shifted, looked at the stormtrooper in the far rear, and saw the drooping yellow tail of an animal clinging to his backpack.

Ysalamir, she realized. The exceptionally rare creatures were the only known animals that could create a field pushing back the Force.

Her uncle would have gone to great lengths to obtain one, which meant tonight must have been a long time in the making.

"Don't go back inside," Hogrum warned. "Don't go for your lightsaber and don't call for help."

"Uncle-"

"I promised you wouldn't be harmed and I meant it. Now come with us."

The enormity of what was happening finally dawned on her. She'd already felt lonely and abandoned but she'd never imagined she'd be betrayed by the only family she had left. Worse, the Force had given her no warning. She was one of the last beings in the galaxy who would touch it and it had been useless to save herself just like it had failed to save Antares.

Marasiah wasn't angry. Far from it. If anything, she felt like weeping.

Trying to sound strong, probably failing, she asked, "What will you do now? Make yourself emperor? Disband the senate?"

"Nothing so grand. But there are traitors that have to be dealt with."

"I'm looking at one now."

He shook his head. "Sia, you're letting your husband's killers escape and the Empire die from within. I understand you're afraid of falling to the dark, but our enemies must be stopped. If you don't have the strength, then I'll do it instead."

He snapped his fingers, and the front two stormtroopers raised their rifles. She looked straight down their barrels and didn't feel any fear, just sadness. She'd been trained to rule from birth. After her father's inglorious death she'd inherited more than she'd ever dreamed, and every step of the way she's tried to rule strongly and justly, learning from her parents' flaws as well as strengths.

But Marasiah had failed, utterly.

"And how," she whispered, "Will you justify this, Uncle?"

"The situation will justify itself. You'll see shortly." He withdrew a hand from his cloak, revealing a set of stun cuffs.

She felt brief temptation to turn and run, to lunge into her quarters, get clear of the ysalamir's Force-blind bubble, grab her lightsaber, and fight. But that was foolish. She'd have no defense against the stun-blasts that would take her in the back and drop her pathetically to the floor.

Within that ysalamir's field she was as Force-blind as everyone else in the galaxy. It was a great leveler, and for the first time she really realized how helpless her Knights and Jedi must have felt when stripped of their powers.

A leader must be seen to be strong. Her father had told her that many times, and in that he'd been right. It didn't matter who saw that strength; sometime the only audience that mattered was yourself. Marasiah took a breath, gathered her dignity, and held out her arms. The shackles were cold and heavy. When they clicked tight around her wrists the sound reminded her of a locking door.

-{}-

The meeting with Senator Derrol in his office had been one of the more unusual conversations Ganner had ever had. He and Azlyn had sat with the Chagrian for half a standard hour, asking him a variety of questions about Kagar Aynes, Gar Stazi, and especially the being who'd attacked him in his apartment's parking garage. It has been Azlyn's idea to present him with three images showing different Iktotchi males and ask him to pick the one he'd encountered. Derrol had dithered in indecision for a good thirty seconds before picking the wrong face. What that meant, they didn't know.

At the end of the meeting, Azlyn had played their final card. She'd shown him the images of Derrol and Stazi, both wearing cloaks and bent close in an anonymous alley. The senator had screwed his face up in confusion, then gotten angry. He'd insisted he knew nothing about these images, then condemned their quality, and finally said that it could have been any Chagrian and Duros in those shots. The latter two points weren't entirely wrong, and his anger had seemed genuine. Ganner and Azlyn had hurriedly excused themselves after that.

Ganner had left the senate building wishing, more strongly that normally, that he still had the Force to help him. As it was, he and Azlyn were two fumbling, half-trained agents. He wondered aloud why Intelligence Director Chalk's people hadn't handled the investigation. Azlyn had given an uncertain shrug, the same one he'd gotten when he'd asked about Eshkar Niin's current status.

Questions multiplied and certainties got scarce. As he and Azlyn entered the palace complex and made their way to the empress' quarters, Ganner felt like a truly pathetic investigator. The mechanical brace around his foot and entire right leg hardly helped. Its metal boot clacked and the gears strained with every step. It made him feel half-droid and he nearly complained about it to Azlyn before catching himself.

After clearing security for the residential section of the palace, they rode the main lift to the high level where the empress' quarters were. They walked through the hall, silent except for the aggravating clank of Ganner's foot. Ganner had been to Marasiah's personal quarters only a few times in the company of Antares, and Azlyn had never been at all, so he took the lead, guiding them down same-looking hallways, through intersections and around corners.

He was almost at their destination when he swung around one bend and froze. He watched Hogrum Chalk's unmistakable black profile cross the intersection ahead, followed by two white-armored stormtroopers with rifles clasped to their chests. His first thought was that Chalk had just paid a visit to the empress; then he saw Marasiah herself dressed in a plain white gown, shuffling after her uncle with head bowed and stun-cuffs around her wrists. Two more stormtroopers followed, and one of them wore a strange rack on his back with a yellow lizard-like creature clinging to it.

They'd passed out of view before his mind registered what he'd seen. Azlyn, standing beside him, gasped. She took him by the shoulder, tugged him back around the corner, and whispered, "That was the empress! What were they doing with her?"

"Hogrum Chalk was leading her."

"Chalk? But she was in binders."

"I know."

The empress was under arrest, and by her own uncle. Ganner didn't have to understand the details or ask himself where his loyalties lay. He was an Imperial Knight. He'd sworn to serve the light side of the Force and the Fel monarch; only one of those remained available to him and she was slipping out of his grasp.

He felt a moment of clarity unlike anything since losing the Force. After so much uncertainty and doubt, he knew exactly what he had to do.

"There's a second, secure lift," Ganner said, recalling the layout of this wing. He put a hand on his lightsaber. "Chalk must be taking her on that one. If we hurry we can get behind them and take out the first two troopers."

"There's still Chalk and the other two."

"We just need to get the empress away from there." He turned the corner and started back around the hall, but was instantly reminded of his clanking metal boot. Nothing was easy after all. He snarled and said, "Hurry ahead, Azlyn. I'll be right behind you. We can still get them."

"Ganner-"

The boom that interrupted her made the whole corridor shake and knocked them both off their feet. Alarms started wailing, and after they pushed themselves upright they picked up the reek of smoke.

"What the hell was that?" Azlyn gasped.

"It came from the direction of the empress' quarters." Ganner started toward it, not caring about his boot anymore. He couldn't even hear it over the alarms.

They only turned one more corner before finding an inferno at the end of the hall. Heat and choking ash rushed toward him, and Azlyn pulled him away.

"Ganner, we have to get out of here!"

"But the empress-"

"Chalk has her now. We don't know where they've gone. Come on, we have to go!"

They hurried back to the main lift but found it unresponsive, either deliberately or because of the explosion. Fire was still raging on this level and the air was slowly becoming filled with smoke. Azlyn asked, "Do you know the way to the other lift?"

"I think so, but it might not work either."

She put a hand on her lightsaber. "We can cut our way inside the shaft."

Ganner had a better idea. He grabbed Azlyn's wrist and led her down half-remembered corridors. Smoke became thicker, the air hotter, and he was relieved when he spotted one dark transparisteel window at the end of the hall.

They both took out their sabers and carved away the edges of the thick pane. Azlyn gave the window one strong kick to knock it into a long free-fall. Fresh air rushed their faces, pushing back the smoke, and Ganner stuck his head through the gap and peered down. It was a long fall but there looked to be a ledge to stand on some forty meters down.

"Don't jump this time," Azlyn said as she reached for the fiberchord cable reel attached to her utility belt.

"Didn't cross my mind," said Ganner as he reached for his own.

They magnetized one end of their cables to the windowframe, then vaulted the cut-through transparisteel edge and began lowering themselves to the ledge far below. Without the Force to guide their descent they needed to use gloved hands on the ropes and feet on the building-side. Ganner's metal boot continued to clank on the smooth face but he barely heard it over the roaring of wind.

The window they'd carved through now spilled some smoke into the air, but it was far less than the empress' quarters themselves, which were still aflame and furling a black pillar into the night sky. Airspace around the palace was highly restricted and as Ganner and Azlyn made their descent the first rescue airspeeders arrived. They hovered in front of the explosion site, shining their searchlights into the smoke and pumping arcs of flame-retardant into the wreckage of the empress's quarters.

None of them paid any attention to the two Imperial Knights descending on the other side of the building, and now that they were out of immediate danger Ganner's thoughts began to clear, and he wondered whether they wanted help from the rescue teams. There was no telling how many people were involved with Hogrum Chalk's coup. He wanted to believe it was only a few but that may have been wishful thinking.

When they finally reached the end of the ledge they carefully reeled in their cables. They were still trapped on the side of the building but when they looked down several more levels they spotted a row of windows, dark from the inside. Using cables once more they dropped themselves lower, then used their sabers to carve through the windows and re-enter the building.

"What do we do now?" asked Azlyn as she reeled in the last of her cable.

"We have to make contact with the other Knights. Let's hope nobody's thrown up a jamming field." Ganner took out his comlink and keyed the frequency for Treis Sinde. Since Antares' death the old warrior had become de facto leader of the Imperial Knights. He was pleasantly surprised when his comlink clicked and a gruff voice said, "This is Sinde. Speak."

"This is Ganner Krieg. I have Master Rae with me."

"Ah, thank the Force you're alright. We weren't sure where you were."

"Master Sinde, do you know what's happened?"

"We heard about the explosion at the empress' quarters." Sinde's voice went grave. "Every single Knight's been roused. Director Chalk's gathered us in the training center. Until we find out what's happened to the empress, succession falls to him."

Ganner's chest tightened. "Master Sinde, is Chalk there now?"

"He's just arrived. Ganner, Azlyn, you need to get here too. I don't know what we're facing but we'll need every Knight together."

It was a moment history could tip on, but Ganner was too tired and frantic, too Force-deaf, to know what he should say. He looked to Azlyn for guidance and saw her own indecision. For all they knew Chalk was going to arrest all the Knights as well; they couldn't afford to go to the training center. Ganner's heart told him he could trust Sinde, but there was no way to know if this comm line was secure.

Azlyn made the final decision. She grabbed the comlink and said, "Master Sinde, the empress is not dead. If Chalk tells you that, he's lying."

"What? Azlyn, what are you-"

"We can't come, Master Sinde, and you never talked to us."

Before Sinde could ask more, Azlyn shut off the comlink, dropped it, and smashed it with her foot.

Breathless, Ganner asked, "What now?"

"We get help."

"From who?"

Her eyes were uncertain. It was clear she had no answer. Azlyn took his hand, swallowed, and said, "We have to get away from here. Off Coruscant. After that… I may have some ideas."