The few battle droids that stand in her way are so easily cut down.

Ahsoka makes it to the tower's weapons control station without so much as breaking a sweat. A quintet of tan-uniformed Sullustans inside the computer-lined, windowless, circular room raise their hands upon seeing her, blabber in Sullustan, and go scurrying out the door when she raises her lightsabers. All too easy.

She steps up to the master control station and examines the holographic display. Twelve linked turbolaser and missile emplacements spaced around the tower's perimeter, all linked here under an automated, computer security-protected system. No Sullustan hands required to operate the targeting. Individual readouts for each defense battery's power output, accuracy, weapons systems operational capability—more and more, every stat a gunner could imagine. Ahsoka doesn't need all that. She just needs to shut the weapons down.

There—power management. She grabs the control lever, moves to yank it and cut energy for the tower's defenses, but then she pauses. Camera feeds for each of the batteries display to her left, complete with a live-feed picture of Separatist tanks and battle droid lines still holding off Major Rieekan, Captain Rex, and the rest of the Republic formation desperately fighting to stay alive and buy their Jedi officers time. Three juggernauts burn; a number of fighter tanks and ISP speeders also litter the scorched ground with their flaming wreckage. The Separatist numbers are wearing them down, and tiny white blotches of dead clone troopers lie unattended in the field. So many droids. Even if Master Kenobi and Anakin do get the power cut to the shield domes, they'll have a hard time getting out of here and making it to safety with the Separatist defenders still intact—and that's if they can outrun the orbital bombardment that will be quick to come. There has to be more she can do.

And there is. It's a good thing she has friends.

Back on Coruscant, she took Tamri Dallin's idea: If she has cybernetics, why not use them, rather than letting them handicap her? Take an injury and turn it into a strength. On her inner left wrist—all metal and circuitry where once was flesh and sinew—there protrudes a small metal tube connected to a skinny steel wire that slips into the prosthetic's frame. It's a miniaturized scomp link, the same type of computer connection node that R2-D2 and other astromech droids use to override systems. Well, not quite exactly the same—Tamri left her a quick slicing program to upload into the link, just enough to overwhelm computers and give her access. The kind of access, in fact, that might just let her turn the tower's weapons emplacements on the Separatists and give the Republic forces outside a big leg up.

The wire hisses as Ahsoka unplugs the link and jabs it into the main control terminal's access node. She has no idea if this will work, no clue if Tamri's code is enough to overwhelm the Sullustan network, but it's worth a try. For a moment nothing happens. Ahsoka grits her teeth, looking at her wrist, back to the stubbornly-still computer display. Is this thing even on? How does she make it work?

Then the console flashes with static. Information boxes flash on and flash off and the computer drive whirrs into full gear as the system struggles under the slicing attack. Ahsoka holds her breath. Come on. Give me something.

A dull moan churns inside the computer. The automated targeting display goes black, then throws up a new display: Root access. Manual authorization acknowledged. The guns outside fall silent.

"All right," Ahsoka murmurs, probing at the display with her finger. "Now how do I…"

She presses the most promising option—Emplacement One. A camera readout for the turret displays on the monitor. Before her are frantic Republic forces, clones firing with all their might. Ahsoka pans the camera down. Two AATs. A few tank droids. A whole trench full of battle droids. More than enough to repel the Republic fire.

Not if she can help it.

She brackets a targeting reticle on one of the AATs, then pauses. What next? A small red icon at the bottom of the screen flashes, but whatever Tamri's override program has done, it's jumbled the language into an unreadable mess. Ahsoka frets. Well, no one's perfect.

Screw it. It's red and flashing. She presses the button.

The turret hammers a shot home. The lead AAT buckles as the turbolaser catches it under the lip of its turret and takes the whole top of the tank off. Ahsoka laughs. "Oh-ho," she chortles, "who has the guns now?"

She rakes the battle droid trench with turbolaser fire; she hammers the nearest tank droid and blows it apart in a shower of metal debris. On the camera, the nearest group of clones stop firing. Ahsoka can just see two of them pointing up at the turret, one of them shrugging. "That's right, boys," she murmurs with a smile, "just sit back and watch."

Ahsoka switches over to Emplacement Three, where on the battlefield beyond a juggernaut races alongside two fighter tanks against a trio of Hailfire droids. She can't go letting them have all the fun. Ahsoka targets the lead Hailfire and fires. One shot; that's all it takes. The droid erupts as she plucks the right wheel off of the fuselage. Its companions steer away at the newfound threat, only to roll right into the juggernaut's barrage of fire. Again Ahsoka swaps the controls, this time to one of the tower's surface-to-air missile launchers. In the sky above, a Republic gunship outruns a pair of HMP gunboats trailing close behind—but not for long. Ahsoka unlooses a swarm of missiles at the droid ships, sending them veering away in a cloud of smoky flares and metal chaff. One evades; the other is not so lucky. A missile clips the droid gunboat's underwing ordinance pod. A moment later the entire wing disintegrates in a cloud of flame, half the gunboat falling away from the other half in the fury of the explosion. Oh, this is too easy.

"Having fun there?"

Ahsoka yanks her scomp link and whirls about at the greeting, one lightsaber already in hand and ready. She rounds about to find a girl facing her, short silver-blonde hair, red-bladed lightsaber in hand. "What are you supposed to be?" Ahsoka scoffs, sizing the girl up. Small. Scrawny. Really, now? "Is Dooku recruiting from schools to find new apprentices?"

"Funny. You're so funny," the girl says, a wildness in her green eyes. "I know who you are. You're Anakin Skywalker's apprentice. How lucky, you. But I have Count Dooku supporting me, now."

"Feel free to send him in."

The girl points her lightsaber at Ahsoka. "No, no, it's just you and me right now. I'll bring Dooku your head. Then he'll know what I can do."

"Good luck. Get out of my way and go find a hole to hide in. The battle's almost over," Ahsoka says. "You don't even look old enough to be holding that lightsaber, let alone to know half of what Dooku goes on about. You don't want to fight me."

"Oh, we're going to fight. Your master's going to know who I am once I've killed you."

"I don't even know who you are."

The girl licks her lips. "The name's Pella," she says. "Now let's get on with this."

She leaps forward, vaulting off of the room's central holoterminal and lunging with her lightsaber raised. Ahsoka easily sidesteps and shoves her away with the Force, not even bothering to ignite her second saber. Pella whips about; Ahsoka blocks her lightsaber blow, backpedals, and swipes at the weapons control terminal, throwing up sparks and drawing emergency warning screeching from the computer. Again Pella attacks; Ahsoka catches her blade and locks their sabers. With the Sith girl's weapon held, Ahsoka clenches her metal hand into a fist and punches Pella squarely in the nose.

Pella squeaks in pain and drops back, blood running down her upper lip. "Try keeping your own head before you worry about others'," Ahsoka scoffs as she moves to leave. "I don't know if you were a Padawan or what you were, but go find something else to do besides following Dooku around."

Pella snarls and jumps at her. Ahsoka blasts her back with the Force, steps out of the room, waves her hand, and throws the door closed. It may have been a ridiculous fight against an opponent clearly not ready for this sort of thing, but Ahsoka smiles anyway. She'd wanted to test her mettle against another lightsaber-wielder, and not just Anakin or another Jedi in a mock battle in the dojo. Now she knows she can not just survive after all that's happened, but fight—and win. She's taken her lumps, but they could only hold her back for so long. No longer.

Now she knows—truly knows, full of confidence—that she can face Grievous again. She has to. And next time she won't fall for his tricks. Next time she'll have tricks of her own ready.

"Master," she says into her wrist comm as she hurries away into the facility. Her part of the infiltration may be complete, but Anakin and Master Kenobi still have to shut down the shield power. "Master, the guns are down. Master?" No response. She tries Obi-Wan's channel. "Master Kenobi? Are you there?"

Nothing. Either they're busy or they've run into trouble. She sighs. Guess it's up to her to go find out which.

Obi-Wan tries to concentrate in the turbolift as he rides the elevator to the top of the tower. It's quiet in here despite the battle raging outside, just the soft hum of the lift's drive and the subtle buzzing of circuits in the walls. Focus, he thinks. Focus. The Separatists are all around, men are dying, Anakin and Ahsoka have their jobs—and he has his. Depower the shields. Put an end to this invasion and seize this world. But a tickling in the Force tells him something more than just controls and power systems are waiting for him at the tower's peak. Dooku? Is he here?

But it is not Dooku waiting for Obi-Wan.

The turbolift's doors open to reveal a raven-haired woman kneeling on the floor at the center of the room, eyes closed in meditation. For a moment Obi-Wan is stunned into silence, his lightsaber frozen in his hand, confusion icing over his mind. Here? It's not possible.

The woman opens her eyes. "Obi-Wan," Sae murmurs.

"It can't be," Obi-Wan whispers. "Sae?"

She rises, dressed all in black. That is her lightsaber on her hip, Obi-Wan sees—but he fears the color of its blade. "You must think me a fool," Sae says, "but I'd hoped, when I left the Temple, that we'd never meet again. I'd hoped never to meet any other Jedi again."

"You're not here by accident, are you?" Obi-Wan says, hoping beyond hope that she tells him otherwise. "You're not a prisoner. You came here voluntarily."

"It's not about voluntary or involuntary. It never was," Sae says. "I've looked into fate. I've seen it come true. Our lives are just playthings of the Force. We live, we die—it's never our choosing."

Obi-Wan points to her lightsaber. "Show me that blade."

"Obi-Wan—"

"Show me."

She takes a deep breath. Pulls her lightsaber to her hand. Ignites the red saber. "It's just a weapon."

"No, it's not," Obi-Wan says, his own lightsaber in hand now. "You were a Jedi Knight. You were a sister to the Order. Now you follow the Dark Side, do you? Why? Why would you turn your back on the Jedi?"

"Maybe if I'd stopped listening to them sooner, none of this would've happened," Sae growls, anger seeping into her words. "You're on the Council now, Obi-Wan, I don't expect you to understand. You were always the best of us all, even when we were children. You're never compromised by what the Jedi ask of you. But for the rest of us…for the rest of us it's not so easy. If I'd taken hold of the Dark Side earlier, maybe I'd could've prevented everything."

"Prevented what?"

"Prevented my girl from dying!" Sae bellows at him, her face contorting, eyes flashing. "Tamri! If I could have done something, anything to keep this all from happening, I should have! I don't care what it would have cost me, you, the Jedi, the galaxy, screw it all!" She turns, pressing a hand to her forehead. Then she whirls and points at him, a shadow flaring across her face. "You never had to worry about this sort of thing with Skywalker. Everyone knew how strong he was, even as a boy. But Tamri was never like that. She was just…just sunshine. I was supposed to keep her safe. And I failed her, all because I kept listening to the Jedi, stuck to our doomed, hopeless mission, never did what I needed to. I should've taken her and run far away from all this. She was never meant for war."

Obi-Wan takes a step back, his mind reeling. "Tamri?"

Sae scowls. "She wasn't just my Padawan," she snarls. "She was my daughter. I loved her, Obi-Wan. I loved her. But I guess there's no place in the Jedi for that sort of thing, is there?"

Thoughts of Satine flash by in Obi-Wan's mind. Thoughts of Anakin. "If only that was how it is," he murmurs. "If only you knew."

"What?"

"You're wrong, Sae. Whatever pain and self-hate led you to this, you're wrong. Tamri's not dead."

She shouts, aiming her lightsaber at him. "Don't lie to me."

"I've seen her. Spoken to her. I gave her a whole assignment, Sae. She should be on Concordia right now. She's not dead."

"Stop!" Sae yells. "I saw her die! Don't tell me I didn't!"

"You saw wrong!"

Sae shrieks and lunges at him. Obi-Wan just ignites his lightsaber in time to block her blow, stepping away as she sets into a stance across from him. "You can tell me every trick the Council has to bring me back. Lock me away, tell me not to feel anything," Sae seethes. "But that's over. When Tamri died, I did too. There's no me to bring back. What you see is all there is."

"That is not true," Obi-Wan says, his lightsaber careful, his form measured. Easy, easy. There's no reason someone here has to die. Sae was a friend not too long ago, and unlike a power-seeking fallen Jedi like Dooku, he can see all too well what has laid her low. It's all too human. "Even if you want nothing more to do with the Jedi, that's no excuse to fall to the Dark Side. Dooku has nothing for you. You are not a Sith. You're blinded by your pain, lost in your loss. Let go, Sae. Let go of your hurt and see the truth. Tamri does need you. All you have to do is come back for her."

"Oh, I know the way to see her," Sae says. "There's only one way to do that. But I'm too much of a coward to do it. So go on if you have the guts, Obi-Wan. Do it for me."

"No. We don't have to fight."

"No we don't, but we're going to anyway."

She raises her saber. Obi-Wan moves to guard. They meet, clash, back away, strike again, meet and feint and fall back. Light on light, energy spitting in a white storm where their blades hit. "You know you're not a Sith. I can feel it," Obi-Wan says. He won't stop trying. This isn't Count Dooku he's fighting. She's not gone yet, even if she pretends she is. He can't give up when there's still a chance. "You embrace the Dark Side out of desperation and confusion, not because you seek it. Don't give in! You know better."

Sae lowers her lightsaber and shakes her head. "No, I don't," she says. "Everything we were taught turned out to be a lie. Everyone I have ever cared about in my shell of a life—Tamri, Adi Gallia, all my other friends in the Order who've died over the course of this war—have left me. You're the last one that's left, Obi-Wan. But I can't keep pretending to do my duty for your sake."

"It's not about my sake," he says. "You swore to uphold our code."

She grins. "And it let me down in the end, just like everything else. So let's put an end to all this."

He holds out his blade and intercepts her strike, patience in every movement. Slow and steady. Sae is caught up in her passion, wild, unpredictable. He must be a rock against her storm. But as they strike and clash again, he senses something off—she's not striking with all her force. Her blows are limp, soft. As if she doesn't want to do this any more than he does. As if there's so very, very little keeping her in the thrall of the Dark Side. As if seeing one person, just seeing her face, hearing her voice, would bring her back. But Tamri is half the galaxy away now, and there is nothing Obi-Wan can do to push back Sae's pain.

As Sae drops back and circles around in a lull in the fight, however, her wrist comm sounds off. Before Sae can shut it down, a young woman's voice—a girl, even, Obi-Wan thinks—calls out: "Sae? Sae!"

Sae looks up at Obi-Wan, and it is then that Obi-Wan knows. He knows how Dooku did it. The Sith Lord took advantage of Sae's hurt, broke her down—and then, to build her back up, he gave her someone new to lose, someone to tie her to this mortal world, someone to prevent her from running. That devil.

But there is no use telling Sae that. She grabs a chair with the Force, throws it at Obi-Wan to delay him, and sprints for the turbolift. Obi-Wan does not chase. He watches her go, locks eyes with her as the doors close and whisk her away into the heart of the facility. There's no point to fight her. She will only come back when she sees—sees, truly, with her own eyes—the Padawan she thinks she is dead. Until Tamri and Sae come face-to-face, Obi-Wan's former friend is lost.

His spirits slip. It's not betrayal. It's not even pain in him now. Just emptiness. Tragic, the whole business.

He finds the control console to the power grid on a central computer near the back of the room. Shutting down the energy feed to the planetary shields is easy, given that emergency reserves are already down—Anakin has done his part. Walking up to the window and observing the battle below, Obi-Wan activates his commlink to Admiral Dodonna and the fleet and says, "Admiral? Obi-Wan Kenobi. The shields are down. Commence your attack."

"Copy, Master Kenobi," Dodonna responds crisply. "All ships, open fire!"

Obi-Wan clasps his hands behind his back as he watches the first blue bolts of turbolaser fire streak down from orbit, slice through the atmosphere, and slam into the foundries far away, where Aayla Secura and Quinlan Vos's forces still fight the bulk of the Separatist defenders. This battle is won. But he feels no joy. No relief.

Tragic.

"Steady," Korkie says, his blaster aimed and ready. "Steady."

Tamri holds her ground as the giant Killik comes at the two of them in the dark chamber. The smaller insects retreat behind the shadowy columns, clicks, hisses, and whines echoing from every corner of this nightmare square. As Tamri prepares for the attack, however, a tugging in the Force draws her eye into the darkness. They are not alone.

The big Killik halts. It looks around as if confused, then it freezes up, making a coughing, choking sound, spitting and hissing. Its mandibles flail; its upper, clawed arms swipe at its throat. Tamri lowers her lightsaber, breath caught in her throat.

Then a red light flares in the darkness. Another lightsaber.

The big Killik spits and tries to move away, but the red lightsaber launches in an arc. It slices through the Killik's legs and the insect topples, screaming, shrieking. As the lightsaber flies back to a waiting hand, Asajj Ventress steps out of the shadow, her face blackened by her scowl, her eyes narrow, crystallized. One of the smaller Killiks howls and rushes out of cover at her. She growls and reaches out a hand. The Killik stops, lifts into the air, clawing at its throat. Ventress closes her fist, clamps down on the Killik's exoskeleton with the Force, and a sickening crunch comes as the bug's throat collapses.

Then the square is alive and furious as Killiks rush out of every corner, no longer cautious and strategic but rushing Ventress, rushing Tamri and Korkie, rushing onward, attacking, swarming, savage and bestial.

Korkie fires, clipping a Killing, but the bug rushes on. Tamri steps forward. She slices as it jabs at them, cutting off its clawed upper arm. The big spits and shrieks. Tamri swings her lightsaber down, yelling as she lops off its head. Another comes and Korkie fires, once, twice, three, blaster bolts stopping it in its tracks, flailing as Tamri rams her saber into its thorax and finishes it off. Amid it all is Ventress, both her sabers alight, engaging three at a time, four, five, whirling like a demon, howling like a banshee as she answers savagery with savagery.

In a minute it is done. Spindly, hardened limbs and dismembered, burnt corpses litter the space as surviving Killiks scatter away, claws clicking on the metal. Ventress grabs the slowest of the lot and raises it up with the Force. The insect shrieks and whines. Before Tamri can say anything, Ventress wrenches her hand to the left and snaps open the Killik's exoskeleton, severing its spine with one twitch of the Force. The bug's protests die immediately; it falls limp, crashing to the ground in a pathetic heap as Ventress lets it go. The former Sith apprentice sheathes her lightsabers, kicking one of the corpses with her foot as she appraises the scene. "You could've given us a warning," Korkie says as he holsters his blaster.

"I told you I would find you if I had anything, boy," Ventress says. "Feel free to show a little gratitude. I could've simply let them run over you and the girl."

"For what it's worth, thank you," says Tamri, replacing her saber on her belt. "Did you find something?"

Ventress plants her foot on a Killik carcass. "More than you, I imagine," she says. "The habitation zone is nothing but bodies, isn't it?"

"Bodies and…well, yeah, pretty much just bodies. No one alive around here."

"These Killiks are all over the base. A containment breach in the wet labs seems to have let them out, and now they're running amok," Ventress says.

Korkie frowns. "You found a camera feed or something?"

"No. I found what the Padawan was so inclined to find: A survivor."

Tamri draws a breath. "Where? How many?"

"Eager, aren't you?" Ventress says, chuckling. "Only one, I'm afraid. If you're looking for Jedi heroism, it won't be found here. Worse, it's a Bothan. I can't lose his stench."

"Is he a researcher?"

"Ask him yourself. I didn't come up here to give a report. Besides, there's nothing more to see here. These might be living quarters, but anything still alive should be killed at first sight. Now come on. I'm not waiting around for more Killiks to show up."

Unlike the dusky confines of the living quarters, power remains on in the laboratories. This feels much more like the Telos base to Tamri—white walls and scientific equipment and sterile lighting. Floor-to-ceiling transparent specimen chambers, tubes circling off-blue liquid through complex-looking machines, sharp metal instruments on wheeled trays, digital and holographic displays on every counter. Yet the chaos from above is evident here: For every two cylindrical specimen holding tubes, one is shattered, the transparisteel torn open from the inside by brute force and raw might. Desks are overturned, tools strewn about, holes punched in walls exposing sparking wires and leaking pipes. And there are bodies, too—white-uniformed lab technicians and scientists tossed about and split open, viscera sticky and slick on the floor, blood red and blue and orange pooling in great lakes of death.

"Horrible," Tamri murmurs as Ventress leads them through the labs. "Everything's just destroyed."

Ventress smirks. "Haven't seen much of the galaxy, have you, girl?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Korkie says.

Ventress chuckles at his quick reaction. "I imagine far worse sights are happening right now down on Mandalore. This pales in comparison to what the war has wrought."

"The war you helped spread," grumbles Korkie. "Why the Jedi trust you—"

"—is none of your concern. And the Jedi do not trust me; it's only Obi-Wan. I have already done what he paid me for, by the way. That's business. Anything more is a bonus, as far as you—and he—are concerned."

Tamri keeps on eye on the former Sith. She trusts Ventress, somewhat at least—she did get them through the Separatist lines—but Tamri can't deny who the former Sith apprentice was. Even if it was a past life. Even if that was then and this was now, some things never change. Those red lightsabers took lives without thought once. They can do so again. And the way she killed the Killiks…merciless. But Master Kenobi trusts her, so that will have to do. For now.

In the secure research control chamber they find the survivor. He's an older Bothan, taller than Ventress with his brown body hair just beginning to turn gray, eyes sunken and the color of pine bark. A slash along his shoulder oozes blood; his white and teal uniform tears in a jagged slice over the wound. The control chamber itself is a small, spartan place—a few computers, a holocomms node showing only static, vials of viscous sepia fluid on a sterile steel countertop accompanied by a pipette and a holojournal. The head researcher's workplace, perhaps. When he sees Ventress, his pupils dilate and his mouth opens. "You came back," the Bothan says.

"Relax. You stayed put, so I'm not going to kill you just yet," Ventress says.

Tamri frowns. Great way to make friends, that. "We're here to help," she says before Ventress can further antagonize the man. "I'm a Jedi."

"Jedi?" the Bothan says, his eyes wide as if the very mention has only made things worse. "Hehh…oh, no, no—no, I—I am just a worker. Just a worker."

"We're not here to hurt you. I just want some questions. Then I'll do everything I can to help you and anyone else still alive to get out of here. Promise," says Tamri, holding out a hand in reassurance. "Okay?"

The Bothan looks agitated, but he nods. "What is it you want?"

"First—what's your name? What do you work on here?"

"I am Sartu Fen'leyn," the Bothan says. "I am a researcher class-three—ah, project overseer. My division oversaw research into epigenetic modifiers in diet and aging in the subjects when removed from a maternal resonance."

"Uh…okay, gonna have to break that one down into simpler terms for me."

"The Killiks," the Bothan, Fen'leyn, says, "they were first from a queen, yes?"

"Sure?"

"Normally," Fen'leyn says, casting looks now and then towards Ventress as the bald woman scowls at him, "Killiks operate in hive-like systems all connected telepathically. They have no need for verbal or physical communication as we do. All of this coordinated by a queen Killik. But our orders were to understand and develop—and eventually mass produce—Killiks without a queen present. We thus tried numerous different mechanisms in order to simulate a centralized control for the Killiks—whether by diet and food intake, or by pheromones, or otherwise. Eventually we were able to link the Killiks together via an electronic grid networked into their nervous systems, almost like nodes in a computer. They operated for a time as a hive without a queen. But then something interrupted with the electronic system, we do not know what—and all the Killiks went mad. They lost their higher intelligence, became feral, like animals. And angry. They broke loose, attacked. It was all I could do to run. I saw so many killed. So many dead."

"Back up a long, long way," Tamri says. "So, I get that you were doing experiments on controlling hive-mind, intelligent bugs, great. Why? Where did they come from? I thought Killiks were supposed to be long extinct?"

The Bothan grits his teeth as if considering holding back a secret, but one glare from Ventress makes him jump. "It, ah…Republic top secret clearance, yes?"

"I'm a Jedi. You can tell me," says Tamri. She looks at Korkie and Ventress. "They're not going to go leaking it to the Separatists, either."

"You never know," Ventress murmurs. When Tamri scowls at her she rolls her eyes. "A joke, Jedi. Relax. I would rather kill Dooku than say hello to him."

Fen'leyn hesitates, then speaks: "It was, ah, the ship the Arkanian found."

"What? What ship? And who?"

"I do not know her name. It was a warship, a…a Rakatan battlecruiser the Arkanian found on Manaan entombed beneath the ocean. There was a Killik queen on it in stasis, yes? And many eggs. Many, many eggs."

Tamri has a bad feeling about this. "The Arkanian. Hosha Tath?"

"Er…I do not know her name. She was a tall woman. Very tall. Like most Arkanians. Very beautiful, but very assertive. Very, very assertive."

"You work for her, don't you? This is a Tath-sponsored installation."

The Bothan looks confused. "I…eh?"

"Who do you work for?"

"I…were you not sent as relief? Republic Special Weapons Group. Formerly Corps of Engineers. Under Orson Krennic's direction, formerly Director Rann. We went into lockdown when the Separatists arrived in-system."

Ventress leans backs and laughs. "Oh, this is grand!"

"What?" Korkie says.

"Look at your precious Republic," she says. "Working with mad scientists and devils! Oh, you're just like the Separatists, the same but in name. Anything for an edge."

Damn it, thinks Tamri. Kesh and Dominion both confirmed that the Telos base worked with these people—yet this isn't a Tath installation at all. So the Republic itself was working with the Taths, then? She was a…a victim…to her own people? Anger billows up in her, and it's all she can do to keep it at bay. "This base on Manaan, where the battlecruiser was found," Tamri asks, knowing very well what fishhook-shaped battleship the Bothan is referring to, having ran afoul of it over Telos. "Where, exactly, is it? What do you know of it?"

"It, ah, is not Republic-affiliated. Private. Owned by an Arkanian research firm that liaised with the Special Weapons Group," the Bothan says. He indicates a datapad on the counter. "That should have it on it. Comms are on there; my boss's personal pad. He was in direct contact with the Arkanian."

She will review it later. That can wait. "The Killiks," she says. "Who were they for?"

"Eh? The Republic."

"What?"

"Special Weapons Group. Experimental testing as shock infantry. The hope was that they could clear out many battle droids without casualties, multiplying destructive force to clear the way for clone troopers and reducing field losses. Director Rann had us redirect to studying Killiks about, ah, two years ago, shortly after the war began. Previously we were studying Mandalorian war designs."

"Whoa," Korkie interjects. "What kind of war designs?"

"Not the best time, Korkie," Tamri says.

Ventress butts in. "I beg to differ, Jedi. Anything that can help clear these bugs out of here is a good weapon," she says. "Speak, Bothan. What were you researching that made Mandalore so attractive?"

Fen'leyn gulps. "A Basilisk war droid. An intact one."

"Bullshit," Korkie says.

Tamri is lost. "A what?"

"A war machine of the old Mandalorians," Korkie says. "I learned about it in my academy days."

"We, ah, still have it. The Basilisk," the Bothan says. "Down in the armory. It needs extra power—but fully functional! You want it to destroy mad Killiks, yes? If you could lure them down there, it could certainly do that. And then some."

"How?" says Tamri.

"There is a power management station near here. I have the codes. High-ranking researcher, yes? I can shunt a power spike to the Basilisk's feed conduits and power it up. Be aware that it will go berserk, though—best to avoid its attention. The power spike should draw Killiks to the armory as well; they always did like lights and commotion. They are sleepy in the darkness."

"That was sleepy?" Korkie says. "Blazes, hate to see them normally."

Ventress folds her arms over her chest. "I'll escort our new friend here to the power station," she says. "You see to the armory, Jedi. I'm not inclined to risk my neck more than needed, especially if some rampaging war bot is on the prowl."

"I want to see it for myself," Korkie says. To the Bothan he adds, "You have only have one?"

"Basilisk? Here, yes. We found a vault, old Mandalorian Wars, on Mandalore itself, but never had time to access it," says Fen'leyn. "Full of old war material. Treasure trove."

"Where?"

The Bothan pauses, as if he realizes he has something valuable. "Perhaps."

"Don't play with me," Ventress snaps at him.

"Hold on," Korkie says. "Listen, I know someone who can get you out of here. Off of Concordia, out of Mandalorian space. Share that knowledge, and you can escape all of this. Deal?"

The Bothan harrumphs. "I need to see proof of that, first."

"You can meet her. I picked up her comm signal already."

"Who are you talking about?" Tamri asks him.

But Korkie does not reply. There's a hunger in his eyes, a fire prickling his face, as if he's found something truly delightful. "All right. Let's get down to that armory, then. The clone's down there already, isn't he?"

"Falco? Yes, I think. He mentioned Mandalorian weapons. Maybe this is what he saw."

"Ah, Jedi—yes?" the Bothan says to Tamri. "One more thing, if it helps—you mention the Arkanian?"

"Hosha? Yes," Tamri says. "Do you know anything about her?"

"Just that she was powerful. Very powerful person," Fen'leyn says. "Not a good person to cross. Bad temper. Knew Chancellor Palpatine well, I heard my boss say. That was how we got so much funding. Part of some group. Ah, what was the name…Geno…GenoHaradan?"

Tamri's nerves prick up. She has a funny feeling that several ties are quickly coming together—Hosha and the Taths, the Republic, and who knows what else. She's going to have a long talk with Master Kenobi when they're done here.

"Sae! Sae!"

Relief washes over Sae when she catches sight of Pella running to her in the Sullust tower's main concourse. Girl's covered with blood, all down her face and neck. "What happened?" Sae says, her voice catching. Obi-Wan's words still sting in the back of her mind. That bastard. Lying to her about Tamri to try and bring her guard down—whether to kill her or drag her back to the Jedi as a captive, she does not know. Either way, it's a low blow. She hadn't wanted to fight him in the first place, but now…now she knows she could've cut his head off. She will not let anyone, even Obi-Wan, speak of Tamri like that, like something to be used. She won't let them disrespect her memory. "Why are you covered in blood?"

Pella sniffs and looks away. "Anakin Skywalker's apprentice," she mumbles. "I went to the weapons station, and…I…"

"Don't. It's fine," Sae says. She pulls on the arm of her tunic and tries to wipe blood from Pella's chin. "Here."

"I'm fine."

"You're still bleeding."

Pella shies away. Hurt pride more than anything, Sae guesses. All her pre-battle enthusiasm washed away, only the young girl left behind, smarting from defeat and pain. "Get yourself together," Sae says. "We have to go."

"Go?" Pella says. "Lord Dooku said—"

"Forget him."

"But—"

"What matters is that we stay alive. This battle's lost. The Republic's firing from orbit, Jedi are all over the place—we're doomed if we stick around," says Sae. "There's a tram system in the base's basement that leads out to the nearest underground city. We can find a launch vehicle from there, slip by the Republic ships in orbit, and get out to safety. Come on. We can't wait around."

Pella nods and hurries after her. Sae keeps her head on a swivel, but Obi-Wan does not follow. That whole thing felt wrong, that battle. It felt wrong in the beginning, fighting him. It never needed to happen. Sullust—what a waste. An important industrial planet, for sure, but this whole region around the Rimma Trade Route was lost in the face of the Republic advance. Dooku gambled it all on his vision from the Celestial. Sae hopes it was worth it.

When they reach the basement level access to the tram station, they find it clustered with staff. Over thirty Sullustan employees and security personnel crowd around a locked blast door leading to the tram tunnel, accompanied by security super battle droids. Doing a whole lot of help down here, Sae thinks. Wonderful. "What's the hold-up?" she says as she pushes through the crowd. "Is the tram running?"

The Sullustans shrink away from her. They knew who she is. Who she serves. One brave fellow clears his throat as two of the Sullustans manipulate a computer terminal nearby. "Er…pardon," he says, his SoroSuub chest badge covered in grime, "some sort of mechanical malfunction, ma'am. The door isn't opening."

"Why? Just get it open," Pella grumbles, wiping at her nose.

Sae frowns at her. "What's the problem with the door?"

"The locking mechanism isn't responding," the Sullustan says.

"Look," says Sae. "This is our only way out. The Republic's battering down the doors. We have to go, now. Is there some other way in?"

"Er…"

"Maintenance tunnels, ducts, anything?"

A metal grinding sound creaks from the door and the Sullustans step back. Sae looks up, her hand reaching for her lightsaber. That doesn't sound good.

Then the door begins to open.

"What," Sae murmurs to the Sullustan, "is past here?"

"Er…the tram?"

"What else?"

"Turbolifts to the lower levels, ma'am. Reactor core and the like. No one should be working down there right now. We called a general evacuation, but…but…"

Sae holds her breath. Someone is coming. She can feel it.

The door wheezes open. The Sullustans huddle about, watching as the super battle droids cluster up expectantly. Pella shuffles closer to Sae. "What is it?"

"I don't know."

Beyond the door is darkness. Sae can just make out the form of the tram in the distance, the platform maybe a hundred meters or so down a wide tunnel. But closer, nearer, there is a rising steam. Mist billows as a lift rises. The Dark Side is all around Sae now, pulling on her, screaming in her ear. Run, run, run.

"Pella—"

She doesn't finish. The lift rises. Upon it is a shadow in the form of a man.

"Run as fast as you can to the tram and get out of here," Sae breathes. "Pella? Pella, run."

"What? Why?" Pella whispers. "What is it?"

"He's here."

The shadow looks up. A blue lightsaber blade ignites. Time freezes. The mist hangs.

A super battle droid is the first into action. "Blast him," the droid says, raising its wrist blaster. "Blast him!"

The shadow is quicker. It reaches out its hand, and the super battle droid flies forward, yanked by the Force. The blue lightsaber impales it. Then the droid is thrown away like garbage.

Anakin Skywalker advances.

"Go!" Sae shouts to Pella. "Run!"

The droids run into the fight, but Anakin's lightsaber is a blur. He cuts down the first droid to engage, knocks a blaster bolt back, and reaches out with the Force, blasting another droid back. A particularly courageous Sullustan pulls a blaster pistol and fires. Anakin knocks away the bolt. Grabs the Sullustan with merely a thought. Snaps his neck like a twig.

Pella is rooted in place, her eyes huge, terrified. Sae has to buy her time. She shouts, ignites her lightsaber, and rushes Anakin.

Skywalker hardly looks her way.

As Anakin knocks blaster shots aside, he reaches out and grabs Sae mid-stride with the Force. Sae barely hangs onto her saber; she chokes, her breath gone, kicking, grabbing at her throat. Then Anakin hurls her behind him, tossing her away like refuse. Sae lands hard on her shoulder, groaning, clutching her saber.

Pella is running to her. Anakin does not even notice. He throws aside attack after attack, so easy, so casual. A super battle droid fires a wrist rocket. Anakin stops it a foot from the droid. Throws the missile back. A plume of fire erupts.

Pella slips and stumbles, catching Anakin's attention. He turns his head for a moment, just enough time to see a radiator on the wall. Then he looks away—but the radiator shifts, shudders, and breaks free from its wall mounting, hurtling at Pella like a missile. "No!" Sae cries out, pushing with the Force as much as she can, knocking the impromptu projectile aside just before it hits her apprentice.

There is no stopping him. There is no fighting him. He tears through the Sullustans like weeds; wipes away super battle droids like bad thoughts. The Sullustans run the opposite direction, away from the tram, but Anakin brings down a maintenance catwalk with a twitch of his fingers and the Sullustans are trapped, the last of their super battle droid defenders being cut to pieces by Anakin's effortless swings. Sae grabs Pella's arm and drags her forward towards the tram. "Come on," she pants, hurrying as fast as she can go. "We have to go. Come on!"

Sae sprints onto the tram, rushes to the controls, and throws the accelerator. Pella leaps aboard just as the motor kicks on and the mass transit vehicle hums to life, grinding its way down the tracks. Sae looks back to see Anakin plaster a Sullustan to the floor with the Force, rake his lightsaber over the poor fool, and then throw a super battle droid into the wall with enough force to blast one of the automaton's legs off. Skywalker looks over his shoulder. Sae sucks in her breath.

For a moment, a brief, red, vicious moment, their eyes meet.

Then the tram rounds a bend in the tunnel, the monster is behind them, and Sae slumps down, defeated, exhausted, wanting nothing more than to rest.