*me, skimming through stats*
"Cuthalion97: you are on the author alert list of 66 members"
*chokes on coffee* :)
After another restless night and another quick breakfast, broken only by a few muttered comments, Quinlan and the commandos left the Marauder. The pale sun was visible today, and despite the scattering of dingy clouds along the horizon to the north, the landscape looked almost warm – at least, compared to the last few days.
The last few days . . . was this really only their fifth day on Malachor? Quinlan frowned and glanced at his chronometer as he followed after Wrecker. It was oh-seven-hundred, half an hour earlier than they'd agreed to start. Already, though, Vythia stood before the main door, hands clasped behind her back and head tilted back as she observed the building.
Hunter halted behind her. "Been waiting long?"
"Not long." She spun on her heel to face him. "I have been thinking that we are going about this the wrong way."
"What do you mean?"
Resting a hand on her waist, she gestured at the door. "If we go in this way again, we'll have to go all the way to the center and up thirty-odd flights of stairs to resume our search. That would take at least an hour. It would be better to go in through the top, would it not?"
"I . . . don't see why not." Hunter shot Quinlan a questioning look. "You think there's an entrance up there?"
"I know there is one. I observed it on scanners when we first landed here."
"Vythia is correct," Tech interjected, scrolling through images on his screen until he reached a diagram. "Ah. Here."
Hunter leaned over his shoulder to study it. "It looks like a shaft going straight into the center. The staircases inside – we could get to the top by going all the way up them, right?"
"Yes," said Vythia.
"Okay." Hunter looked at Quinlan again, as though waiting for him to speak.
Quinlan gazed up the side of the pyramid. The looming walls filled him with a sense of foreboding, but he knew it was only because of the way the academy looked. The sheer size was enough to make anyone with common sense hesitate. "We should take only one ship, just in case," he said, folding his arms. "Leave one down here."
"Good idea," said Hunter. "Tech?"
"I will have to ready the Marauder," Tech said. "I only just finished locking it down."
"We can take my ship," offered Vythia, walking towards it. "I haven't locked the systems yet."
Tech looked questioningly up at Hunter, fingers hovering over the keypad.
"Okay." Hunter tilted his head toward Vythia. "We'll take the Phoenix."
They mounted the boarding ramp behind the Nautolan woman, who moved quickly to the pilot's seat. Tech and Hunter followed her into the cockpit, while Quinlan waited in the cargo hold with Wrecker and Crosshair.
As the Phoenix lifted off, Quinlan observed his surroundings. Nothing seemed to have been moved since his and Tech's visit a couple of nights previous – the silver chest was still in the same spot, and so were the boxes. He wondered if Darth Zenaya's scroll had been stored in the box with the rest of the scrolls, or whether Vythia had locked it in the silver chest with the artifacts.
The shuttle floor tilted beneath him, and he leaned to one side. "She going around the academy?" he asked, disinterestedly – and pointlessly, since the answer was obvious.
"Yep!" agreed Wrecker. "Better than flying straight up a mile. Tech did that once."
"I'll bet he did."
Crosshair, who stood beside the starboard viewport, gestured outside with his toothpick. "Wonder if those pillars had any real purpose."
Quinlan joined him and looked out. The polished black of the curved pillars gleamed in the light of the slowly-rising sun as the Phoenix flew in a wide, ascending loop around the academy. "You mean any practical purpose?"
"What's the difference?"
"Uh . . ." Quinlan smirked. "Want me to ask Tech?"
"No."
"I heard that." Tech's voice floated back to them. "But Quinlan was the one who made the clarification. Therefore, he can explain."
There was a short pause, during which Vythia could be heard conversing with Hunter.
"Yeah, okay," said Quinlan. "I guess I just meant that the Sith tended to only make things that served a definite purpose to their way of life. The pillars could be symbolic . . . if they are, I've got no idea what they stand for, unless it's the dark side itself – which would make sense."
"What symbolizes the light side?" Crosshair asked, wandering away from the viewport.
Quinlan glanced at him in surprise. "Well . . . there are a lot of different symbols for the light, from various cultures. Those I've seen always involve parallel designs or patterns, though – unlike this."
The ship tilted, rotating ninety degrees as it descended to the roof, then landed with a gentle thud.
Wrecker stepped aside to let Hunter and Tech rejoin them in the cargo hold, and Crosshair lowered the boarding ramp.
As Vythia shut down the Phoenix's engines, the rest of the team gathered on the windswept roof. Vythia had landed approximately halfway between the northern edge and the center, and Quinlan shielded his eyes from the sun's rays as he gazed out over the landscape.
The land directly around the academy was almost featureless, but the rest of the ground seemed to have been half-destroyed. The expanse of the dioxis fields was far more visible than it had been when they first arrived. Even in the daylight, the poisonous gas could be seen in pale green patches, scattered among the splits and vents in the rocky ground.
"We're . . . really high up," Wrecker muttered.
"Twelve hundred meters." Crosshair sounded almost pleased. He leaned forward slightly, then turned in a full circle as though taking in his surroundings.
"Hm," Hunter said, looking up. "Looks almost like a claw or something."
Quinlan followed his gaze. The five black pillars, which curved gradually into sharp points some fifty meters overhead, did look like a claw from this angle. " . . . Nice."
Vythia and Tech were already walking towards the entrance, so the others fell in behind. The sand and ash crunched lightly against the stone beneath their boots, but apart from that, Malachor seemed utterly, unnaturally still. Maybe it was the height they were at, or the fact that they were so used to the shifting masses of clouds that had been present almost constantly since their arrival on the planet.
A burst of wind gusted across the sandy surface of the roof, and Crosshair took off his helmet and turned to face it.
Quinlan came to a halt, the strong breeze tugging at his tunic as he glanced back. "I think there's another storm coming," he commented, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah." Crosshair replaced his helmet. "Big surprise there."
"Not," Wrecker added cheerfully. "Well, long as the ships don't blow away, we're good."
The upper entrance to Trayus Academy was cut directly into the roof, and there was no doorway. Four stairways, one on each side of the square shaft, ran along the walls, descending into the academy – they seemed identical to the stairways inside, except that there were no railings . . .
And except for the fact that the steps themselves, set directly into the wall of what had been the uppermost central room, had been worn away by the blasting of sand and ash over the years until they were less than half their original length.
Vythia dropped to one knee at the edge of the shaft and pressed her hands against the highest step. "It appears intact."
"What's left of it appears intact," Hunter said, joining her. "Tech, anything down there?"
"Yes, if my scans are accurate – a single stormbeast." He checked Crosshair's position. "Mark two-fifty five, twelve meters."
Crosshair turned left, lifted his rifle, and fired.
An angry, croaking shout followed, but was cut off halfway through by a dull thud.
"Sensors clear," Tech said.
"Okay." Hunter pulled out his ascender cable, then fired it down into the wall adjacent to him. "I'll head down first."
Another cable ejected into the wall a meter from his, and Vythia jumped, swinging to a controlled halt a couple meters down. "I'll go with you."
Hunter jumped down to join her, then turned on his flashlight, and the two of them descended, kicking gently away from the wall every few meters until they landed on the floor below.
As they stepped away from the cables, Quinlan watched carefully, ready to follow at the first hint of alarm from either, but they only glanced around briefly before Hunter called for the rest of the team to join them.
Wrecker and Crosshair went down next, moving hand over hand, and then Quinlan and Tech followed.
"Leave the cables," Hunter was saying as Quinlan hopped off to land in five centimeters of sand. "We'll probably end up using them again."
"Any lanterns?" Wrecker asked, walking along the wall they'd slid down.
Vythia wandered further into the room and paused to scuff one boot through a pile of sand. "We will have to move carefully. This accumulation is thick enough to hide any traps – or any damage there may be to the floor."
Tech eyed one section of the floor, directly beneath the northern stairway, and ran a scan. "Not to mention the stairways leading down," he said.
"What?"
"This stairwell appears to have been filled completely by sand."
"Hmm." Hunter knelt and pushed one hand through the sand to touch the stone floor. "Let's hope at least one of the others is at least partially free."
Wrecker activated one lantern and Crosshair another. The green light didn't reach very far into the room – of course, in every other central chamber they'd seen so far, there had been a pillar lit by white flame; here, there was no pillar.
Quinlan walked along the adjacent wall to locate another lantern, then slid the crystal into its base. Turning away as the green fire flickered to life, he observed what was visible of the room before carefully trying to locate any nearby artifacts or presences.
There was . . . He glanced over at the Nautolan woman. He could feel the crystal of the headpiece she wore in order to read the Sith language. But there was something else, something familiar –
The mask, he realized, looking at the light pack she carried on her back. She's got Lothal's mask with her again. Why?
He almost asked her outright. There was no real reason not to ask her; she probably had known he'd be aware of it, but . . .
Closing his eyes, Quinlan tried to sense her intent, but between his shields and her calm, collected personality it was all but pointless. He sighed, trying once more, and something odd tugged at his shields from a few levels below him. It wasn't an object – not as far as he could perceive – but it wasn't a presence, either. Whatever it was felt inverted in his mind, as though it was a negative – thing – or a lack of any kind of presence. Then the impression coalesced into nothing at all.
"Nothing," he muttered, opening his eyes. "What . . ."
"What did you say?" Vythia asked absently, pausing beside him.
Quinlan ran a hand across his mouth. "Nothing. I don't think there are any artifacts on this level. Uh . . .besides the ones you've got with you."
She flashed a quick smile. "I suspect you are right. If the roof was used as a landing pad, as Tech has theorized, then this floor would chiefly be for lodging for guests, or meeting rooms. Let us move farther down."
Hunter, who'd been occupied with checking each of the stairways, glanced up at his older batch mate. "Wrecker? You're up. Don't fall."
"Not a chance!" Wrecker laughed and plowed through the sand that filled the top steps of the northern stairway. He paused, when he reached the third step, to kick at the hardened grit. "Think it's all packed in. This'll take me a couple minutes."
"Well, we're not in a hurry," Quinlan told him, then glanced at Vythia. At least, I'm not . . .
As it turned out, only that particular stairway was blocked. Over the years, a huge amount of sand and ash had made its way down the top few levels, but after the second floor down, it proved to be more of an annoyance than a real hindrance.
The upper rooms of the academy were very different from the lower rooms: the classrooms and training halls were large, and the team passed shrine after nameless shrine – to whom, even Vythia had no idea. The statues had been obliterated, along with anything they might have held.
"Why were they all destroyed?" Hunter asked, when they came across yet another heap of pulverized marble.
Vythia shrugged, her mouth tilted in displeasure. "Perhaps the Jedi invaded from the roof and the ground floor. I had thought for certain that we would find more in these levels. I had not anticipated such wanton destruction. The Jedi had no intention of taking over or using the academy . . ."
"If it was the Jedi, wouldn't they have destroyed the entire building?" Tech asked.
"Perhaps they did not have time."
Quinlan, too busy trying to pinpoint that feeling of nothingness he'd caught earlier, only half-listened to the conversation. He was almost sure that the strange, inverted mental sense was coming from a section on the fifth or sixth level down, in the eastern quarter of the building, but that was as close as he could get.
"Maybe it was the stormbeasts," Crosshair said at last, apparently wanting to put an end to the rapid-fire conversation between Vythia and Tech.
The Nautolan woman blinked and smirked at him. "Perhaps. But I still think Tech and I are right, and that it was another Sith."
Quinlan blinked and looked up. "Wait, what?"
Hunter cut in and summarized before Tech could explain. "They think a Sith lord came through here and destroyed the statues of his rivals."
". . . Makes sense, given what I know." Quinlan brushed past Tech to glance at the newest discovery, which was yet another pile of crumbled marble. "Especially – hm. We haven't seen any normal statues so far. I mean, of people turned into stone." Though how I'm thinking that's 'normal', I have no idea . . .
"You are right!" said Tech. He turned to look at Quinlan – walking directly into Hunter as a result – but didn't seem to notice the sergeant's tolerantly amused eyeroll. "Perhaps they were also obliterated."
"Meaning what?" Crosshair asked, looking suspicious. "Why would anyone destroy people who'd already been turned to stone? What's the point?"
"I . . . am not certain." He adjusted his goggles, tilting his head almost apologetically as he thought. "It could be, of course, that there was no one present in these upper levels when the superweapon was activated."
"It could be a lot of different things," said Hunter shortly. "But you can theorize about it later, Tech. Let's keep moving."
Tech closed his mouth, clipped the datapad onto his belt, and walked down the hall after Wrecker.
Vythia tapped the fingers of one hand against her lightwhip's hilt. "We haven't found anything of value. . . and yet these upper levels were most likely occupied by the most powerful masters. Hmm. Quinlan, can you guide us at all?"
Quinlan hesitated for several seconds. "There's . . . something . . . a couple levels down from us. It doesn't feel like an artifact, but I've got no idea what it is."
Or what it isn't.
Early that afternoon, Crosshair discovered a small, locked vault off one of the destroyed shrines. Once Quinlan had quietly assured the others that he sensed no traps, Hunter and Wrecker set detonator tape along one edge of the door.
As soon as the door was out of the way, Vythia and Hunter stepped inside while Wrecker held a light for them.
Crosshair wandered restlessly around the shrine while Tech opened his wrist consol and set to work on something.
Quinlan watched disinterestedly as Vythia sorted through old, dust-covered jewelry and weapons. There were no artifacts in this vault with even the slightest Force-presence, most likely because nothing of real value had been stored there in the first place, so he didn't know what she hoped to find there. Maybe nothing.
"Anything interesting?" Wrecker asked at almost the same moment.
"Not as far as I am concerned." Vythia held up a golden necklace and hummed. "I am sure the Prince will be only too glad to sell some of it, though. Hunter, we'll take the jewels and this set of knives, but not the rest of the weaponry. It will only slow us down."
Quinlan wandered out of the room to activate the next set of hallway lanterns, then returned slowly. He knew that the sense of nothingness – almost an absence of the Force, really – was somewhere on this level. It wasn't quite an absence of the Force . . . if it had been, he'd be almost glad to go look for it, just so he could be somewhere without the constant pressure of distant emotions that weren't his own. He didn't feel angry, or hateful, but the dark did, and it was . . . tiring. Every time there was no immediate distraction, every time the team stood still or the others didn't talk, those artificial emotions rose up louder and louder.
Stop, he ordered himself almost pointlessly. Stop thinking – no, start thinking, stop focusing on how this blasted place is making you feel.
He reentered the shrine room with more determination than he felt. It probably showed, judging by the odd look Wrecker gave him.
"Oh! Quinlan." Tech glanced up with a little wave. "It appears that you were correct."
"About – what?"
"Based on the data I am receiving from the Marauder's sensors, another storm system is building, almost directly above us."
"Anything that'll cause trouble?" Hunter inquired, joining the others.
"That depends." Tech typed for a moment. "My current data indicates that it will be less than half an hour before the wind velocity will be too great to allow us to take off in the Phoenix."
Great, Quinlan griped, kicking at a scattering of sand that had made its way to the sixth level down, or the hundred and thirtieth level up, or whatever it was. He sighed.
"The storm should not affect our search," Vythia said, eyeing him questioningly as she settled the straps of her pack more evenly on her shoulders.
"Not in the least," said Tech, closing the screen he had set into his vambrace. "It may keep us from returning to the Marauder for the night, though."
As they set off down the hall again, Quinlan clenched one hand and said nothing. If he had to, he would travel down through every single level of the academy, make his way to the main entrance, and get to the Marauder from there. He was not spending a night in this place – and neither were any of the others, not if he had a choice.
"Hey," said Wrecker cheerfully, jostling him with an elbow. "What's the problem?"
Quinlan jerked his attention back to his surroundings and realized that he had stopped walking; the others were a full twenty meters away.
"Uh – Quinlan?" Wrecker asked, the easy smile gradually disappearing from his face as Quinlan just stood there. "What's'a matter?"
I'm scared of the dark, he mocked himself, then said, "Nothing, Wrecker. Let's just find some artifacts so we can get off-planet first thing tomorrow."
"Oh . . ." Vythia's voice floated back from the corner she'd turned seconds before.
Hunter, who had been looking up at the ceiling as the lightning from the storm far overhead drew his attention, ran a few steps to catch up with her. "What is it?"
She didn't answer, and he didn't ask again. The black door she stood in front of was illuminated by a dark red lantern on either side, and was decorated by a painted carving of a gleaming, off-white mask. It looked like the upper half of a skull – the upper jaw was in place but not the lower – and two deep red streaks ran up from the top of the eye holes toward the forehead area. The black door provided a backdrop for most of the mask; the eye holes, though, had been carved directly out of the door. Nothing was visible behind them but an even deeper blackness.
The others joined them, and Hunter narrowed his eyes when he saw that Quinlan was staring at the image in too-obvious recognition.
"What is that?" Wrecker asked.
Tech ran a hand over the runes carved into the stone directly above the mask, which was centered on the door. Tapping his index finger against the last rune in the line, he said, "Death."
"Death?" Vythia stepped up behind him. "Ah, you recognize the rune from my dagger."
"Yes. But I cannot read the rest."
Vythia leaned forward and brushed a hand once across the runes, freeing them further of dust. "It is this particular Sith Lord's saying - a saying so infamous that any student of the Sith and their culture or history would recognize it. 'The purpose of life is death.'"
There was a brief silence. Hunter glanced sideways at the Jedi, who had folded his arms defensively.
"That . . ." Wrecker shifted uneasily. "That's really weird. Who was he?"
"Darth Nihilus," she replied, reaching for the door's handle. "He called himself the Lord of Hunger."
"Lord of Hunger," repeated Quinlan in a soft voice, hunching his shoulders
The door swung open, and Vythia hesitated on the threshold as red lanterns glowed to life all around the room. "There seems to be nothing here . . ."
She stepped inside, and Wrecker and Tech followed carefully.
"Nothing," said Quinlan. "She's – there's nothing there."
He ended his sentence in a slightly louder voice, and Hunter raised a cautionary hand, which Quinlan didn't seem to notice. He was staring into the red-lit room, eyes dark with . . . something.
Crosshair stepped up behind him and hissed, "Keep it down, Vos. What are you talking about?"
"The absence of the Force." Quinlan turned to Hunter and Crosshair and spoke in a low, quick tone, his eyes focused on the floor. "It isn't here, just like with Darth Nihilus. He was a wound in the Force. If he went near other people, they sickened and died, drained of their lives. Nihilus was – he was on Malachor at the time of the Mass Shadow Generator's activation. When the fleet was crushed and all those millions of people died, in space and on the planet, he was the sole survivor."
"How'd he survive?" Hunter asked, surprised. "The gravity increase –"
"He survived by leeching the life force of the dying from them . . . from everyone on the planet, and then from everyone in the fleets, to sustain himself for those few minutes the generator was on. Then . . ."
"Quinlan!" called Vythia from inside the large room. "Come look at this."
The Jedi hesitated, bit his lip for an instant, and then straightened abruptly and strode into the room.
Crosshair exchanged a look with Hunter, and then they followed.
Vythia was kneeling before a long, low oblong container – a coffin, made out of stone, except that there was no one in it.
"Uh – Vythia," said Wrecker, pushing his helmet back on his head. "Maybe you shouldn't touch that."
Hunter joined them quickly and saw that her hand was hovering over a lightsaber hilt. The weapon was more ornately shaped than usual lightsabers, and it seemed to be made with the same shiny off-white material as the mask. As he looked at it, he understood Wrecker's hesitation, though he couldn't put it into words.
Even Vythia paused, then sat back on her heels and looked up. "Quinlan, you said you did not feel the presence of any artifacts . . . and yet here is one, if I am right, which is beyond the value of all the others."
"I feel nothing," he said in a blank voice, though he was staring right at the lightsaber. "Vythia? Your – crystal. It's not . . . I don't sense it anymore."
A gleam of awe flickered through her black eyes. "His lack of presence - even after all this time?" she whispered.
Someone brushed against Hunter's right arm, and he glanced over to see that Tech was standing there, holding his datapad toward Hunter.
"What is it?" he asked, casting a quick look back at Vythia.
"Legends of Darth Nihilus have survived and are easily accessible," Tech said. "I do not know how valuable they are as a resource, but . . ."
Hunter glanced down at the image of the tall Sith lord. He wore a black robe over a full suit of black armor, and a mask identical to the one on the door covered his face from forehead to halfway down his cheeks. No . . . Hunter peered a little closer at it. "This legend says he had no face."
Still kneeling, Vythia reached for the lightsaber. "That is no legend. His actions in draining every survivor of their lives made him into something twisted. He could no longer survive unless he chose to live off of the lives of others – and he did choose that."
She stood, holding the lightsaber out at arms' length. "Each time he drained another of life, his own hunger grew. He destroyed planets until, finally, he became a wound in the Force so great that his own physical form faded from sight. Only his armor kept him visible. Eventually, only his armor allowed him to move. He was capable only of existing."
Crosshair's gaze flitted sharply around the room. "And you say that's not a legend."
"Because it isn't." Vythia pressed the activator stud, and a crimson blade burst into life as though it had not been lying, unused, for thousands of years. "He was one of three who ruled the Sith in later years. He and Darth Sion, Lord of Pain, were the two apprentices of Darth Traya – it was she who reopened this academy."
"Thus the name Trayus," Tech said automatically, but he didn't sound interested.
"Yes." Vythia deactivated the blade and hefted it. "She and her two apprentices ruled as the Sith Triumvirate, until Nihilus and Sion betrayed her and stripped her of her power. Nihilus left the academy afterwards - he cared nothing for the Sith or their creed, only for his power, which was extreme. Still, there is a room here, kept in his honor through the years until the Scourge . . . Perhaps there is a room for Darth Traya as well."
Wrecker shifted.
"If there is," Hunter said in a low voice. "I don't think we should go looking for it."
"No?" She tilted her head, blinking once. "Perhaps not . . . This room is strange."
"Strange!" Crosshair cut in, voice sharp. "It's a tomb for a Sith who isn't –" He eyed the coffin almost hesitantly. "He isn't even there."
"No." Vythia stared around the room once, then turned towards the door. "Ironic, isn't it - his hold on the Force was so strong that he could reach across a star system – and yet when he died, it was that very strength that ripped him to shreds. Nothing was left of him except his lightsaber. I always thought it had been returned to Korriban."
As she took a step away from the coffin, thoughtfully studying the weapon hilt, Quinlan stepped abruptly in front of her.
That one movement made Hunter freeze, fingers resting lightly on his pistol. Tech outright jumped.
Vythia only watched Quinlan, as though waiting for him to move.
"We can't take that with us," Quinlan said hoarsely. "Not out of this room."
Vythia took a slow step towards him. "Why not, Quinlan?"
"It's – the . . ." Quinlan shook his head. "I can't sense your crystal. This room blocks my psychometry somehow. But outside of it, something like Nihilus' lightsaber would be –"
"Hm . . . You may be right." Vythia stepped to one side and turned, as though about to replace the weapon in the coffin. Then she turned back. "It is peculiar, Quinlan; your psychometry is so strong, and yet you seem unable to stop using it."
"I – what?"
"Most psychometrics can choose whether or not to use their ability. It is an extremely low level of Force ability, though I'm sure you as a Kiffar know that."
"Yeah – of course."
Hunter closed his fingers silently around his pistol and drew it, reaching for his knife at the same time. Wrecker took a quiet step towards them, and Crosshair had already drawn his own pistol.
"And yet here," Vythia went on. "You cannot seem to stop using it."
To Hunter's surprise, the Jedi relaxed slightly. "Like you said, it's a low-level Force ability. Maybe I'm not as good a psychometric as I thought I was, or I'd be able to control it better."
Vythia nodded and stepped away from him. "That seems likely. So you are not attempting to use your ability now?"
"No." Despite his easy tone, Quinlan's fingers were clenched over his upper arms.
"You're trying not to use it, correct?"
" . . . Yes." Quinlan took a wary step back.
Vythia was half-turned away, but the light reflected just enough that Hunter could see as her lips turned up in a smile. "Interesting," she commented, then spun on her heel and pressed the hilt against the back of Quinlan's right hand.
Quinlan's eyes went wide and he froze, but before Crosshair and Hunter had taken two steps, Vythia had knelt, lightsaber in hand, and was replacing the weapon in the coffin.
Hunter stopped next to Quinlan, glancing uncertainly at his companions. The Jedi was standing motionless, in exactly the same position he'd been in before she touched him. But nothing seemed to be wrong – and everything had happened so fast, he could have been just surprised.
Vythia got calmly to her feet, looking almost regretful. "Perhaps you are right," she said in a soft voice, unaware of or utterly ignoring the confused glance from Tech, Wrecker's worried expression, and the narrowed gaze that Crosshair was sending at the back of her head. "Darth Nihilus was not a true Sith, after all."
She wandered from the room, and everyone seemed to let out their breath all at once.
"What. Was that," Crosshair demanded in a low voice.
Hunter slid his pistol back into his holster and didn't answer. Quinlan still hadn't moved, and he had no idea if something was wrong or if he was just surprised, or he was seeing another . . . memory, or vision, or what.
It was Wrecker, surprisingly, who broke the silence. "Okay, you guys get going before she decides to come back and see why we're still here. I think he needs a minute."
Crosshair and Tech shot each other questioning looks.
Hunter caught their eyes and gave them a stern nod. "Get going," he ordered. "Tech, keep her busy. Ask her questions, keep her distracted."
"I – yes, I can do that." After a final, hesitant glance, Tech left at a quick walk with Crosshair on his heels.
Hunter followed them to the door, then turned back. "Quinlan? You can hear us, right?"
". . . Yes," whispered the Jedi.
Wrecker threw an arm around his shoulders with less than his usual exuberance. "You're all set, huh?"
". . . I – I think so."
Wrecker tugged at him, and Quinlan followed quietly, eyes and expression empty.
Hunter fell in behind them, not speaking.
Ahead of Wrecker and Quinlan were the other three. Tech was in the middle, with Vythia speaking calmly to him on his left and Crosshair moving silently along on his right. Vythia either didn't notice that something was wrong, or she was pretending not to for some reason.
"Hey," Wrecker said in a whisper as they neared the end of the hall. "Did you see something, Quinlan?"
There was a pause. "No. Nothing."
"You didn't?" Wrecker sounded confused. "Well - I guess that's good . . ."
"No! Wrecker -" Quinlan pushed away from his arm, which Wrecker had left across his shoulders, and spun to face him. "I saw nothing, Wrecker."
