As Wrecker and the others left the central room, Hunter knelt in the middle of the floor, pressing his hands flat against the stones. He could have sworn he'd felt a faint vibration just now from above, almost like something heavy had fallen . . . But half a minute later, he had felt nothing else new. After attempting once more to reach Tech or Crosshair via comms, he got to his feet.

Once outside the room, Hunter darted across the hall to join his three remaining teammates, who were huddled at one end of the corridor that was currently occupied by the half-dead leviathan.

Vythia peered at the creature, her mouth tilted uncertainly.

"Okay," muttered Hunter, looking over her shoulder. The monster was visibly breathing, its half-exposed and cracked ribcage bending out with each inhale. "Wrecker, what do you think?"

Wrecker grunted. "I think these explosives aren't gonna be anywhere near enough."

". . . Right." Hunter hefted the lightsaber hilt in one hand and stepped back. "Well – I don't see we've got much of an option."

Vythia turned to face him, a knife in either hand. "I doubt we will be able to end its life, Hunter. The most we can hope to do is weaken it to a state of near-death."

"Then that'll have to do." Hunter shot her a skeptical look. "Or do you want it alive?"

"Certainly not." Vythia glanced at Quinlan, who was on one knee, watching the creature. "Much as I admire the accomplishments of the Sith. . ."

She trailed off, then said, "Perhaps, Quinlan, Hunter and I should be the ones to use the lightsabers?"

Quinlan immediately looked at her, his eyes darkening with suspicion. "Why?"

Vythia let out a quiet laugh. "Because we will be close to it, and you, as a Force-sensitive and a Jedi, will be far more susceptible to its attacks."

There was a ringing silence, then, broken only by the rasping breaths of the leviathan. Vythia peered back out at it, apparently unconcerned by the implications of what she had just said.

Hunter could feel Wrecker staring at the back of his head, as though waiting for him to speak. He turned to Quinlan.

The Jedi hadn't been caught off-guard the same way – or if he had, he was hiding it a lot better. The only expression on his face was one of mild interest. "Jedi?" he asked.

"I do hope you won't attempt to hide the fact now," Vythia said, stepping out into the corridor without looking at him. "After stopping that statue from eviscerating Crosshair, and then keeping Hunter from falling . . ."

"But –" Hunter stood where he was, utterly confused. If she knew, why hadn't she challenged him at the time? Why hadn't she been afraid that Quinlan would try and destroy the artifacts she'd been collecting? Was she just amused at their trying to hide it? Hunter shook his head. "Vythia –"

"Please, Hunter." Vythia shot him a look of mild disdain. "I knew he was a Jedi before I hired him."

So all that subterfuge was useless? Hunter thought, staring between Quinlan and Vythia. Maybe she was lying, and had only just discovered his abilities . . . but – why bother to lie about it? What could she hope to achieve by that?

The leviathan dragged in another slow, gurgling breath, and Hunter shook his head once. He could worry about Vythia, and her motivations, after he found Crosshair and Tech. Their best of chance of doing that quickly was to kill, or at least seriously weaken, the leviathan so Quinlan could try locating them in the Force.

Quinlan was still observing Vythia quietly, his gaze watchful and even worried as she continued to ignore him.

"Uh, Hunter?" Wrecker muttered uneasily. "Are we gonna kill it, or what?"

Hunter nodded, brushing past Quinlan. "Let's finish what we started," he said in a low voice. "Vythia – you'd better not try anything."

Her eyes glittered briefly with amusement, and as he stepped into the corridor, he heard her murmur, "What is it you think I would try, Hunter?"

Hunter didn't answer. He was staring at the leviathan, which had its head lifted slightly towards them. Its lower jaw hung strangely, the left side torn away from the rest of its skull, and several of its black teeth had been shattered. The four unsevered tentacles lay along the floor near either side of its head, twitching sporadically. One of them was dragging repeatedly against the wall, as though attempting to grip the stone and help lift the head.

Hunter watched it for a moment, studying its sheer size. Taking off a creature's head was, to his knowledge, the surest way of killing it. If Vythia was right about it surviving should-be-fatal injuries, well, at least it would be unable to bite. But the scales around the throat were incredibly tough and thick – eight centimeters at the least – to say nothing of the bones. Cutting through its neck from the outside was too risky, given its mental attacks and those tentacles. They'd have to go through the inside. "Wrecker," he said. "Our first plan was the best – we need to get those explosives down its throat."

"Yeah . . . I figured that out." Wrecker shoved his helmet back, looking mildly disgusted. "That's just great. How do we keep it from biting?"

"That's where we come in," Hunter answered, glancing at Quinlan. "We take it through the head?"

"Yeah, and hope it doesn't drain us of life." Quinlan clenched his free hand, grimacing a little.

Vythia met his gaze and shrugged, as though to say, 'well, I offered'.

"All right, then." Hunter took a deep breath. "Vythia, you're on support."

"Don't worry." She rotated her knives so the blades faced outward. "Those tentacles are what I will focus on."

"Right." Hunter glanced at the leviathan again as it shifted, gradually drawing its long, looped coils in on itself. As the monster moved, its head dropped momentarily towards the floor, and the upper teeth dragged a little against the stones. Hunter flinched all over at the scratching, grating sound. The leviathan jerked its head up a little and shook it heavily, its focus pulled away from the hallway it had been facing.

Hunter turned to his teammates and signaled for them to move out. As one, he and Quinlan sprinted for the leviathan. Vythia darted between them, faster than either of them as she lunged straight past the leviathan's face. It twisted clumsily to follow her, two long tentacles snaking against the wall while the other two grasped at her ankles.

Activating his lightsaber, Quinlan stabbed it into the right side of its skull. Even the Jedi's weapon didn't cut it easily, though – and neither did Hunter's when he thrust it with both hands at the opposite side of its head. The humming green blade sheared easily enough through the scales, but the bone brought it up short.

What's this thing made of, durasteel? The monster wrenched towards him, shoving itself further onto Hunter's blade, and he had to brace his feet to avoid being flung back. In front of the monster, Wrecker fell to his knees and one hand, clutching the explosives protectively against chest with the other arm.

"Wrecker, get up!" Vythia shouted, and Wrecker groaned.

The tentacle nearest Hunter twitched toward his right arm. Vythia jumped into its path, slashing her knives down against it one after the other. At almost the same moment, the humming of Quinlan's lightsaber grew ever-so-slightly slower as it finally pierced through the bone.

A high, slow-building screech wound up through the leviathan's torn throat, deafening in its volume and pitch. Hunter shook his head with a growl and pushed his lightsaber harder against the monster's skull as Wrecker continued to crawl slowly towards it. Whatever strength the leviathan had left for its long-distance attacks seemed to be focused on Wrecker, but Hunter didn't dare withdraw his blade – right now, at least, its head was held back from snapping forward to attack.

Vythia finally succeeded in cutting off the tentacle she'd been slicing at as Wrecker reached the leviathan. He seemed to pause for a moment, staring at the gaping mouth that hung open wider than he was tall, then threw the armful of explosives down its throat.

Opposite him, Quinlan jumped back, dodging as the two tentacles near him suddenly whipped forward. They struck him aside and latched around Wrecker, pinioning his arms to his sides and hoisting him into the air with a sudden jerk.

"Put me down, put me down!" Wrecker shouted in a panic. "Aw, man, I HATE snakes!"

Hunter had already withdrawn his lightsaber from the creature's skull. He crouched and leaped beneath Wrecker, trying to strike one of the tentacles that held him, but they were just out of his range. "Hit the detonator!" he shouted.

Wrecker's thrashing suddenly stopped. He was staring at the leviathan's mouth as the whole upper half of the monster started to convulse. "It's tryin' to get rid of 'em!" he shouted, getting his thumb over the detonator. "Move!"

Quinlan had put his lightsaber away and was reaching out, probably trying to use the Force to get Wrecker down –

The leviathan gagged again, the awful sound trembling in his ears. Hunter stared at Quinlan, hoping he could drag the leviathan's tentacles down hard enough to reach Wrecker. If he set them off now, he'd be too close.
With another retching gag, the leviathan coughed up one of the explosive charges.

"Hunter, MOVE!" roared Wrecker, in a tone he'd used only twice before.

Hunter hurled his lightsaber down the corridor, grabbed Quinlan, and hauled him back by both arms. Vythia was already running in the opposite direction.

"No – Hunter!" yelled the Jedi, trying to reach out again. "He's too close!"

Wrecker pressed the detonator.

Hunter spun around, shoving Quinlan in front of him. The muted, concussive shock of three breach charges, four thermals, and a sonic hit him like a wall, and Hunter was flung forward, landing hard on top of Quinlan and then rolling off to land on his back.

There was a mind-rending screech, but no vibrations – the leviathan was not physically screaming. With a pained groan, Hunter sat up. The leviathan's head lay at right angles to the rest of its body. It had been entirely cut off. If it wasn't dead now, it never would be.

Wrecker lay against the adjacent wall, the two half-severed tentacles still wrapped loosely around him. Hunter got unsteadily to his feet and stumbled towards him, then dropped to his knees and fumbled at Wrecker's helmet.

"Wrecker," he said, voice muted through the ringing in his ears. "Wrecker, answer me! Wrecker!"

Blood dripped from the helmet when he lifted it, and Hunter dropped it to one side, already reaching for his pouch of medical supplies. "Wrecker, can you hear me?"

"Ow," Wrecker mumbled vaguely, then tried to sit up. "That . . . hurt. . ."

Hunter pushed him back down with a poke to the shoulder. Now that their lives weren't immediately being threatened, and Wrecker was conscious and talking, Hunter's temper shoved itself to the foreground. "What were you thinking?" he demanded, feeling the back of his neck for spinal injuries. Finding none, he tilted Wrecker's head to the left, revealing a heavily bleeding laceration along the back of his head. "What, you wanted more scars? Wasn't one set of explosives blowing up in your face enough for you?!"

"Stop yellin'," Wrecker answered, wincing as he dragged a shaky hand to his forehead. "'Sides, that was 'n accident . . ."

"And this wasn't, is that it?" muttered Hunter, pressing a wad of gauze against the back of his head.

As if he hadn't even heard Hunter's words, Wrecker said, "Least this one was 'n purpose . . ."

"Of all the idiotic – what were you thinking?" Hunter repeated helplessly. He couldn't quite compare the pupils of Wrecker's eyes to each other, but the right one was noticeably bigger than normal. He was aware of Quinlan standing beside him, and of Vythia approaching from down the hall, but he didn't look up. He was too busy keeping pressure on the injury and trying to remove the tentacles at the same time.

Wrecker shifted. "Hun'er," he slurred. "Did it . . . work?"

"Better than lightsabers," Quinlan answered quietly, joining Hunter in tugging one tentacle from around Wrecker's chest. "I think its unconscious."

Hunter shook his head as they removed the second one. The leviathan had unknowingly saved Wrecker from further injury by wrapping its tentacles around him instead of just holding him in place.

"Uh – Hunter," Wrecker said. "Did it work?"

"Yeah," Hunter said absently, wrapping a long piece of bandaging around his forehead to hold the gauze in place. Just while they were moving him, and then Hunter was going to get him into a half-sitting position so the blood didn't pool in the back of his head. . .

"Hunter?" Vythia said, kneeling at Wrecker's left side. "Should we lift him?"

"I'm getting him to the central room downstairs," Hunter answered shortly. "I think it's the safest area we've got right now – if anywhere in this place can be safe – and he's not going to be moving around for a couple hours at least."

"I will help," she answered, putting an arm beneath Wrecker's elbow. Between the two of them the managed to hoist Wrecker to his feet. They really shouldn't be moving him at all right now – at least, Hunter knew a couple of medics that would tear him a new one for doing so . . .

He glanced at the leviathan as they dragged Wrecker toward the nearest doorway, a little ways past the creature's head. It wasn't breathing, but the stumps of its tentacles were starting to twitch again.

A brief flicker of pain flashed through Hunter's head, then settled down into a dull, consistent ache. Hunter froze, let out a faint, disbelieving sound. "Quinlan . . .?"

"I know." Quinlan answered in a low voice, clipping Hunter's lightsaber to his belt for him. "I'm going to try anyway. It's extremely weak right now."

Sure enough, as they moved, the headache faded into almost nothing. Hunter was relieved. Even without that impediment, it took all three of them to get Wrecker carefully down the stairs to the main level's central room. Wrecker tried to help, and he did manage to walk . . . more or less. When he wasn't leaning all his weight dizzily to one side, though, his knees were giving out beneath him.

With Vythia's help, Hunter lowered him to sit against the wall, beside the doorway that opened into the main hallway of the academy. For now, this was the closest they were going to get to the Marauder, because Hunter wasn't leaving without the other two, and he couldn't leave Wrecker unattended, not with the level of concussion he probably had.

Hunter was pulling out his bedroll to put beneath Wrecker's neck and head when Vythia hummed quietly. She sounded intrigued and a little concerned, and Hunter turned to follow her gaze.

Quinlan was sitting back on his heels, eyes closed but his eyes moving visibly beneath the lids, almost as though he were in a deep sleep.

"He's trying to find the others," Hunter said, and turned back to Wrecker.

Three full minutes later, after Wrecker had asked for the seventh time if the explosives had worked, Vythia said, "Hunter?"

He grunted to show he was listening and checked the gauze. Thing about head wounds, they bled like crazy even when they weren't deep. . .

"Hunter," Vythia said, more sharply. Her voice came from near Quinlan, and Hunter turned again.

Vythia was kneeling behind Quinlan, gripping him by both shoulders as though to keep him from falling. The Jedi was bent forward, hands braced against the floor instead of on his knees, face and neck damp with sweat as he trembled. He wasn't even breathing, as far as Hunter could see.

In two steps, Hunter had reached him and dropped to one knee. "Quinlan!" he barked, then grabbed his arms and gave him a hard shake.

The only answer was a choking breath. Just like on the mansion roof in Lothal, Quinlan was having some sort of a . . . vision, or psychometric – whatever. All Hunter was sure of was that the Jedi didn't want to be in it. He gave him another shake, but even though Quinlan started to breathe audibly again, he still wasn't waking up. Well, Hunter thought, it had worked once, and odds were, it would probably work again; so Hunter slapped him across the face.

"He is under attack," Vythia said, her fingers closing tightly over Quinlan's shoulders. "I am sure of it."

"From the leviathan?" Hunter watched Quinlan closely. He was breathing normally again, returning from whatever Force-forsaken thing he'd been seeing or feeling.

"No . . ."

Before Hunter could demand a straight answer, Quinlan opened his eyes suddenly, then stared at Hunter for a long moment before saying, "Hunter. It's still here. It's still – it's the same –" He shook his head once, clambered to his feet, and walked a few steps away.

"What is still here?" Hunter asked.

"The second presence," Quinlan answered sharply, rubbing at his face where he'd been hit. "The one – I didn't realize it's the same one."

Hunter moved back to Wrecker, checked that he was still awake – he was, though he seemed barely-conscious – then turned around. "What is the same as what, Quinlan?!"

The Jedi shook his head once and took a deep breath. "The presence that watched me in Lothal . . . on the mansion roof . . . it's the same one as here."

Vythia's gaze sharpened and flitted around the room.

"And it blocked me," Quinlan finished, before Hunter could question Vythia. "The leviathan couldn't stop me looking, but that thing did."

"Then we'll have to do it the slow way. I'm going to keep the comms open. I don't know why – they can't all have just stopped working." He activated his transmitter, and Quinlan's commlink blinked green. So did Wrecker's, and Vythia's. Hunter looked back at the Jedi. "They're out of range, or their comms are damaged –" Or they can't use them, but what could have happened to prevent that? Not stormbeasts . . .

Quinlan shook his head again, this time wearily, and pressed the heels of both hands against his eyes. "Or they can't use them," he said, unconsciously echoing Hunter's thoughts. "I'm going to look for them, Hunter. Do you have any idea where either of them were?"

"Crosshair might be somewhere on the second level," Hunter told him. "That's when I last heard from him. But if he is – I can't imagine he wouldn't have heard the explosion and found us. Maybe he's trapped?"

"But by what?" Vythia asked softly. "We found nothing . . ."

"We didn't go through all the rooms," Quinlan said. "I'll start with the second level. I'll go hall by hall and come back here at intervals if I don't find anything."

"We'll each take a side of the academy," Hunter said.

"Not likely." Quinlan's gaze cut to Vythia, then he jerked his head towards the half-sleeping Wrecker. "If something happens, he's not going to be able to do anything. And he needs to be looked after.

I know that. Hunter frowned, hesitating. "It'll take forever if you do it alone."

"I will assist you," Vythia offered. "Though I somehow think you will not allow it."

Hunter and Quinlan exchanged looks. Hunter didn't want her out of his sight, actually, not until they knew why she'd come back into the academy. And judging by Quinlan's expression, he didn't want her wandering around, either.

"Yeah," Hunter said. "You stay with me and Wrecker."

"As you wish." She sat gracefully, tugged a parchment from her satchel, and started to read.

Quinlan eyed her uneasily, then headed across the room to the right. "I'll check in every fifteen minutes," he said.

"Understood."

As the Jedi vanished, Hunter put his hand against the ground. The leviathan wasn't moving much, but it was moving.

"Do not worry," Vythia murmured, not looking up from the Sith writing. "It will be many hours before that creature can even reattach its head, much less move."

Hunter sat down next to Wrecker and nudged him with an elbow. "You still awake?"

"Yeah . . ." Wrecker let out a heavy sigh. "Did it work?"

"Yeah," Hunter said heavily. "It blew its head clean off. . . and of course it's still alive and moving. Blast these Sith and their filthy experiments!"

Vythia's eyes flickered up from the parchment, and she smirked ever so faintly.


Three solid hours, and still nothing. Despite the number of hallways and tiny doors he'd opened, Quinlan had yet to find a single hint of the missing commandos. They can't possibly have just gotten lost, not here . . . It's hard to get lost in straight corridors that all lead back to the main ones. . .

He'd gone back to the central room twice. The second time, Hunter had been pacing restlessly, fingers drumming against his forearms. Quinlan reported no progress and then asked how things were going. Hunter said he was letting Wrecker sleep, for very short intervals and waking him up in between; keeping an eye on Vythia, who absolutely refused to engage in conversation, especially the questions Hunter had about why she'd come back into the academy; and worrying.

Quinlan patted him on the shoulder and left to start searching the third fourth of the academy. He knew he was getting tired because most of his mental complaints were about the fact that the Sith had built such a disgustingly huge academy. Well . . . griping about things he couldn't change was better than focusing on that second presence. He was afraid that thinking about it would attract its attention.

A very faint voice called weakly, from the other quarter he hadn't searched, and for a moment Quinlan froze, listening with all his strength. Either the leviathan was strong enough to start confusing them already, or something else . . .

I'll search all these hallways either way, he realized. I might as well start there.

He ran back down the corridor towards the sound, cautiously looking into each room as he passed it. Many of the doors were opened, and it was a simple matter of checking inside as he ran by. Good thing he had his lightsaber with him – the steady bright green of his blade lit the small rooms where the flickering dull green of the lanterns did not.

A shrill voice wailed down the hall behind him, but it certainly wasn't Tech's or Crosshair's voice. Quinlan grimaced and kept going. Guys, where are you?

But after that one strange cry, there were no sounds, nothing to indicate anyone's presence. Quinlan ran forward, shoved open a closed door, and paused. This was one of many larger rooms. He'd passed several around the rest of the second level, and this one looked identical to the others – the smoothly paved floor covered with bits of stone, the lack of furniture, the dark corner sixteen meters away, with a towering, four-armed statue that held its stone prisoner and stared forbiddingly at the doorway . . .

Quinlan hesitated, glancing from one side to the other to make sure no one else was in the room, then shut the door again. The absolute last thing he needed right now was a run-in with one of those four-armed statues. He'd already noticed two others, but they hadn't seemed to notice him. Probably they were the kind like in Lothal, that just dropped statues and tried to kill people with them. Who thought of that, anyway?

As Quinlan started off again, another scream sounded, followed by a sharp, choked-off gasp of pain.

Quinlan clamped his hands over his ears in irritation and stalked toward the next room. Over the next half hour, he searched the remaining corridors in that quarter, growing increasingly nervous as he continued to find nothing. No one was nearby, and nothing sounded except the occasional disembodied scream or shriek. He was completely alone in the dark. At one point, he stopped in shock when a sudden surge of yelling echoed all around him. Hunter, shouting for Tech, Hunter, shouting for Crosshair, and Hunter, yelling Quinlan's name all at once – then Tech.

"Hunter!" he shouted hoarsely. "Hunter, wait! Come back!"

Quinlan jolted in panic and froze, staring around as he tried to pinpoint the source of the cries. It sounded as though they were right there –

The yells cut off all at once, and Quinlan cursed. He knew it was stupidly dangerous, but he still wanted to go down and skewer the leviathan a couple more times, just to keep it from doing this.

Reaching the next corner room, Quinlan smacked open the door. The white lanterns in the hall behind him easily illuminated the room. Another golden-eyed, four-armed statue watched him silently. This one didn't have a prisoner, and the telltale shards of splintered black were scattered across the floor. Someone had been in here . . . but not recently, because there was dust on the shards.

Splintered black shards, he thought abruptly, his heart beginning to pound. There had been identical black shards in the last statue room he'd checked – even though the statue had held a prisoner?

Turning, Quinlan sprinted back the way he had come, all the way back to the room with the other statue. Slamming open the door, he stopped short, staring at the prisoner. In the dim light, he couldn't make out anything particular about it, just that it hung motionless.

Then, someone drew a hitching breath.

"What the –" Quinlan bit off his words as the dangling prisoner statue twisted slightly.

No, no, no, that has to be a trick of the light . . . Quinlan took a step forward and ignited his lightsaber. The green light cast by his blade glinted on a pair of goggles.

"Tech!" Quinlan broke into a run, stumbling a little as he darted over the splintered rocks that coated the ground.

Tech barely raised his head in reply as Quinlan skidded to a halt beside him. He hung limply from the iron grip, his black clothes nearly indistinguishable from the dark statue. And I left him here! Quinlan thought in shock. He was here when I went past, and I didn't even realize – I thought he was stone . . .!

The statue held Tech by his wrists and ankles, just as it had held its stone prisoner, and stared fixedly at nothing. Grabbing one of the statue's lower hands, Quinlan gave it a hard jerk. A pulsing aura of darkness, centered behind the grimacing black face, flowed against his mind, but the statue did not release or even throw Tech.

Quinlan jerked away, then reached up to tap a hand against Tech's knee. "Tech, hey, are you awake?"

". . . Yes," Tech's voice was exhausted, and he sounded as though he couldn't draw in a full breath. "Quinlan . . .?"

"Yeah, it's me." Quinlan raised his lightsaber, studying the upper hands. "Tech, these look solid. "

Yes . . . I have not – been able – to identify – what controls it."

He didn't sound like he was getting enough air. How could he, hanging with his arms stretched diagonally upwards like that? Quinlan brought his lightsaber blade to the right lower hand, then hesitated. "Tech, I'm going to cut through these. It'll mean putting your full weight on your wrists, so brace yourself."

"Okay," Tech whispered, then cleared his throat slightly.

He'd been yelling, Quinlan realized. Some of what he'd heard had been Tech. . .

The lightsaber blade brushed the black fingers – and flickered out. It sparked on again almost immediately, and Quinlan stepped back with a snarl. "It's cortosis," he snapped. "Oh – of all the karking Sith tricks! Tech? I can get you out of there, but it's going to take me a while, and I need you to make sure you stay absolutely still. Can you do that?"

"Y-yes." Tech shifted, as though forcing himself to relax. "Cortosis – like the Massassi Swords . . . It blocks lightsabers."

Quinlan eyed the long, black fingers and brought his weapon close, then twitched it against them. The green blade flickered off and then on. Each time it did, he moved it a tiny bit closer. "It shorts out lightsabers, yeah," he answered. "Not for long, but enough that it's almost pointless to try and get through, blast it."

On – off – on – off. The statue's fingers were deceptively thin, and took him nearly a full minute to get through. He moved to a different section and repeated the process, and finally, the tightly-clenching fingers fell free.

"That's one down," Quinlan said with false cheer.

There was no answer.

Quinlan started in on the second and hoped his lightsaber would be able to keep up with the constant turning on and off. He'd never tested its durability against such frequent power surges.

Again, from out in the hall, came a horrible yell.

Tech didn't react in the slightest – of course, he'd probably been listening to it all along . . .

Quinlan bit his lip as he remembered the voices he'd heard. "Tech. Were you, ah, calling for Hunter earlier?"

"Yes." Tech's words were slurring even more. "When I was first caught, and then later . . . I thought I saw him in the doorway, but – I must have been mistaken."

Quinlan winced, keeping his eyes focused on the flickering blade. "That – that was me you saw . . . I thought you were a statue, I didn't think to look . . . augh, Tech, I'm sorry."

"It was a – reasonable error," Tech said in a faint voice. He was talking through gritted teeth, Quinlan could hear it. "How – how long ago was that?"

"Forty minutes." The second set of fingers fell free, and Quinlan heaved a breath, relieved. Okay. I can do this, it works, we'll just finish up and get Tech back to Hunter . . .

He stepped back to observe the fingers clamped over Tech's wrists. They'd be hard to reach, due to the statue's height. He'd have to climb up, or risk dismembering Tech.

Getting one foot on a wide fold in the statue's robe, he braced himself and climbed rapidly up to kneel on the thing's shoulders. More to keep Tech talking than anything else, he asked, "How long were you here before that?"

"I do not –" Tech cut off with a sharp intake of breath. "I do not know. I lost track quickly – perhaps three hours – or four . . ."

Quinlan edged out onto the statue's right arm, keeping his feet braced against the stone robes that hung from it. Careful to maintain his balance, he leaned forward to study the fingers. The angle was awkward, but he could manage – he just had to be extremely careful not to let his hand slip.

Halfway through the first cut, his lightsaber shorted out and did not turn back on.

Quinlan stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, then opened it and looked at the kyber crystal, which was glowing white-hot. "Force," he muttered, closing his lightsaber and hanging it on his belt. "Tech, I've got to wait a couple minutes before trying again. The crystal overheated."

Tech gasped, drew in another breath, and said, ". . . Oh."

Keeping a grip on the statue's arm with one hand, Quinlan reached down to clutch Tech's forearm and tried to lift some of his weight, but he didn't want to hurt him, and his arms would be in a bad enough state already . . . The next moment, he used the Force to lift him, just like he'd caught Hunter – dark side or not, it worked.

Then his knee slipped on the statue's robes, and Quinlan faltered wildly for a moment before recovering his balance. His focus was wavering.

When a full minute had passed, he released Tech again and checked on his lightsaber. The crystal had faded noticeably, but was still too hot. Quinlan glared at it, willing it to cool faster.

Tech twisted sharply to one side, then went limp with a gasp. "Q-Quinlan?"

"Right here," Quinlan said, leaning forward to give his fingers a squeeze. The crystal was almost ready – just another minute. . .

"All set," he said at last. "Hang in there, okay?"

"Not much else – I can do."

Quinlan gave an unamused snort and activated his blade again. "Yeah, I should have worded that differently, huh?"

He finished the first cut without trouble and started in on the second. When he had only a couple of millimeters left, he reached down and caught Tech's wrist, not wanting to drop all his weight suddenly.

The severed fingers dropped to the ground with a triple clang, and Quinlan eyed the remaining hand. "Okay – I'm going to let you go," he warned, lowering him as smoothly as he could.

Tech didn't answer, but as Quinlan crawled over to the statue's opposite shoulder, he started to twist again.

"Try to stay still," he muttered, starting in on the last hand. "Hang on, Tech . . ."

Then Tech's fingers spasmed, and Quinlan had to stop and jerk his blade out of the way to avoid cutting him. "Hey, listen to me," he said, gritting his own teeth in useless sympathy. "Tech, you've got to hold still."

"I – I am – attempting to –!"

"Here." Quinlan locked his knees around the statue's arm, then grasped Tech's hand with his free one. "It'll take just another minute."

If my kyber crystal holds up . . . he added mentally. Come on, come on –

Quinlan made it through the first cut. "Okay, almost there . . ."

He'd just started on the second cut when there was a loud snap! and something scalding hot burned into his palm. He yelped and fumbled his lightsaber, barely catching it in time to prevent it falling. "Agh, blast it!"

"What – happened?" Tech panted.

"Kyber crystal shattered."

Tech's fingers went limp, as though in hopeless realization. "I – I see . . ."

"I'm still getting you out," Quinlan vowed, reaching into his tunic pocket. He barely glanced at the yellow crystal before pushing it into place. This would probably destroy his lightsaber, but it might hold just long enough – he had less than a centimeter left to cut.

The yellow blade snapped into life, crackling all over. Quinlan could feel the hilt vibrating in his palm as he gripped Tech's hand again and pushed the humming blade against the black fingers.

On – off – on – off . . . The hilt burned hotter and hotter beneath his hand, and Quinlan watched unblinkingly, willing the crystal and the emitter to last until he could finish the cut.

At the last instant, he released Tech's fingers and leaned down to catch him by the forearm. Then the lightsaber cut through, and he turned it off and tossed it aside, gripping Tech under the arms as the metal fingers clinked to the ground. Tech's weight nearly pulled him off-balance, but he caught himself.

The ground was only a meter below Tech's feet, but he'd be very unsteady, and the last thing he needed was to collapse and whack his head against the statue itself, so Quinlan hoisted Tech up. Grabbing him around the chest, he jumped clear of the statue and its grasping arms. Tech was more or less a dead weight, so they ended up tumbling to the floor anyway, but their landing was much more gentle than it otherwise would have been.

Quinlan disentangled himself quickly and pulled Tech into a sitting position. "You still with me?"

Tech nodded once, sweat gleaming on his temples, but at least he seemed to be breathing more easily now. Keeping a hand on his shoulder, Quinlan reached over to pick up his fallen lightsaber. The hilt was still in one piece, but when he tried to turn it on, the yellow blade flickered and died. The emitter was completely destroyed. Repressing a shiver at how close that had been, Quinlan replaced the yellow crystal in his pocket and shoved the useless weapon into his pack. He glanced back to see that Tech was watching him. "You okay?"

"Yes." Tech tried unsuccessfully to brace a hand against the floor, then gave up and quirked his mouth to one side. "Except that I just lost all sensation in my arms and shoulders. I cannot tell whether that is good or bad."

Quinlan winced. "Good, for you, except it's gonna change fast."

"Hm." Tech frowned, letting out a faint sigh. "Then we should move while I am still capable of it."

"Whoa – no, let me check you for injuries first."

"Quinlan," said Tech, struggling to get up again. "I had ample time to categorize my injuries – after I was picked up by that statue –"

Quinlan caught him around the waist and hoisted him to his feet, deciding to put off checking him until they were at least out of the room. "What happened, anyway?"

Tech stumbled, although Quinlan was already holding most of his weight. "I am not entirely sure. I was following your voice, and Wrecker's –"

He paused for breath.

"Yeah, it was the leviathan."

Tech frowned. "I followed it here, and the statue threw the prisoner, which hit me in the side – and then I was picked up. I did not see it happen, but – when I woke up, the statue was not where it was when I came in."

A cold chill rushed down his back, and Quinlan cast a quick look over his shoulder as he walked. The statue was not following them, only standing there without its fingers, gold eyes staring at them. Quinlan cursed all four-armed Sith statues to the nine Corellian hells, for all the good it would do, then paused. "Tech, stay here a second."

Tech was unsteady, but he managed. Quinlan drew his knife, then leaped, dragging himself up until he could stab through one eye. He withdrew and stabbed again, then jumped down, relieved when the weird sensation vanished.

Without a word, he returned to Tech and they kept walking. They'd just left the room when Tech said, "Ah – I believe . . . I believe you were correct. No – let's keep going for now. Did you find – the others?"

"I haven't been able to find Crosshair," Quinlan answered as he slammed the door behind them. He prayed that the other statues he'd seen wouldn't take it into their nonexistent minds to go on a rampage.

Tech cast a worried glance at him. "And Hunter? Wrecker?"

"Safe, last I checked – they're in the central room downstairs." Quinlan kept walking, hitting his comm as he did so. "Hunter, come in."

"Quinlan?"

"I found Tech, he's okay. He was trapped. I'll tell you later. We're going to make our way down."

"I'll be waiting." Hunter sounded relieved. "Tech, you okay?"

"I am conscious and walking," he answered. "Injuries are superficial."

Quinlan couldn't help rolling his eyes a little, but he signed off after Hunter's acknowledgement.

"You couldn't find Crosshair?" Tech asked.

"No . . . Not yet. I'll look for him as soon as you're with the others."

They made it down one hall before Tech's voice suddenly hitched. "Quinlan –"

"Okay." Quinlan stopped next to the wall. "Let's wait here a few minutes."

"You should not waste time." Tech slid down against the wall. "I meant that I will have to wait –"

"Nice try." Quinlan sat down next to him. "We're sticking together."

"But –"

"Look, I'm not going to try and find Crosshair, only to find that some long-dead creature came in and ate you while I was gone. Besides . . . After this long, I doubt that a few minutes more or less will make a difference."

"They very well might." Tech grimaced, drew his knees up to his chest, and turned his face away. "Go – on ahead. I'll join you shortly."

"No."

"This will only last – a moment."

Quinlan sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. "No, it won't."

Tech didn't answer again, probably because he was too busy holding his breath. A few seconds later, he gasped and leaned forward convulsively.

Quinlan flinched in sympathetic pain, but as Tech's breathing grew increasingly shallow and erratic, the Jedi looked uncomfortably in the opposite direction. He wished he'd grabbed some hypos from Hunter – he had only one with him, and it was not going to be enough.

"Tech, don't take my eyes out or anything, I'm just going to give you a painkiller," he muttered. Without giving him time to respond, he slid the needle into his neck.

Tech didn't even seem to notice. Half a minute later, he jerked his arms to his stomach with a cry, then gritted his teeth and curled in on himself.

Quinlan closed his eyes in an attempt to give Tech some semblance of privacy. He pretended to meditate, not daring to look for Crosshair again. Not while he had to take care of Tech. If Hunter hadn't slapped him out of it, he might still be wandering, trying to get past that presence . . .

A soft whimper made him open his eyes. Tech was leaning sideways against the wall, face pushed into his knees. Both forearms were pressed to his waist, and he was shaking visibly.

Quinlan grimaced, stomach twinging sharply. He could use the Force to put Tech to sleep, but – no. He risked using the dark on himself, but not on the others. And it didn't look like Tech would be able to stay asleep long, anyway.

For a moment, he was alarmed at the ease with which he'd considered using the dark side to help someone. But then Tech gasped again, and he shifted closer. "Tech?" he said. "You have any hypos left with you?"

"N-no."

"Didn't think so." Quinlan watched him for a minute, then sighed. "Can I try something? It'll hurt, but hopefully it'll get this over with faster."

Tech let out another shuddering breath, then gave a single, jerky nod.

"Are your shoulders or arms the worst?"

". . . both. I cannot – tell."

"Okay." Quinlan knelt behind him, slid an arm across his collarbone, and used the knuckles of his other hand to push against the muscles around Tech's neck and shoulder blades. Tech nearly doubled over.

Quinlan winced, but didn't let up on the pressure. "I'm sorry. I know what this feels like, but I promise it'll help."

"The evidence – would indicate – otherwise –" Tech fell silent for nearly a minute, then jerked away so suddenly he caught the Jedi off-guard. "Quinlan, stop!"

Quinlan released him, feeling more useless than ever. "Sorry," he said guiltily. "It worked for me . . ."

"No, it is h-helping." Tech took a deep breath and let it out. "And we need to – get back to the others. I have to be – able to move. I just need – a moment."

Quinlan didn't argue, even though he knew Tech would need a lot longer than a moment before he was back to fully functional. He waited a full minute, then asked, "You okay now?"

". . . Yes."

Quinlan pulled Tech's arms away from his stomach and straightened them out carefully. "I can't believe I didn't see you earlier," he muttered, more to himself than to Tech as he started trying to rub life back into them. "Kriff it all . . ."

His own hands were starting to cramp, after how tense he'd been while trying to cut the statue millimeter by millimeter, but he kept going until he heard Tech let out a muffled sob. Quinlan paused, biting his lip, then got up. "I should probably check the hall," he said lamely. "Make sure nothing's sneaking up on us."

Not that anything could sneak up on them, not in the empty and well-lit hallway, but it was as good an excuse as any. He wandered a few steps one way, then back, watching as Tech carefully raised one hand, clasped his fingers over his goggles, and ducked his head to remove them.

"You okay?" Quinlan asked, then smirked self-consciously. "Or are you about to shoot me for asking so many times? Pretty sure Crosshair would."

"I am fine." Tech turned his head to wipe his eyes on one sleeve. "I just – this is decidedly inconvenient."

"That's . . . definitely one way to put it." Quinlan shook his head and went back to rubbing his shoulders.

To his surprise, Tech let out a shaky laugh. "You are right."

"About what?"

"Crosshair probably would shoot you – for asking so many times."

Quinlan snickered. "I guess I couldn't really blame him, either. Can you try moving your left arm?"

Tech tried, with very little success. Still, a little motion was better than nothing, and Quinlan said so.

"Yes, it is," Tech said precisely, shifting a bit. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, but I'm not done yet."

Tech shot him a glare that utterly failed at being intimidating, then stopped in favor of ducking his head again as Quinlan resumed his work. "I fail to find that reassuring."

Quinlan snorted. "It's better than not being able to use your arms for the next two days, isn't it?"

". . . Debatable," he said, voice muffled by his knees. "We should – should be moving on."

"Shouldn't," argued Quinlan. "Seriously, Tech . . . You aren't going to be able to defend yourself if something attacks us."

Tech seemed to consider. "I will be with you."

"My lightsaber is broken."

"You have other weapons." Tech wiped his eyes on his sleeve again.

"Yeah, but I'm nowhere near the top of my game right now, Tech. I didn't even realize you weren't a statue."

"Nevertheless, we cannot stay here," said Tech, sounding stubborn. He straightened a bit and tried to pull away. "We have to get to the others. I will be perfectly functional shortly."

Quinlan rolled his eyes and flicked the back of his head. "Keep thinking that, Tech."

Tech put his goggles back on with a huff, but then frowned worriedly. "If Crosshair is trapped in the same way –"

"I'll keep looking," Quinlan said again. "He's probably not on this level, I think he headed up. Don't worry, I'm sure he's fine."

"Well, I am not."

Quinlan couldn't argue with that, since he'd pretty much been lying anyway, so he said nothing. Having done all he could to force blood flow back into Tech's arms and shoulders, he released him, then sat back on his heels. "Take a few minutes to rest. If you're feeling up to it, we'll head down. If not –"

"– we will still head down."

"I was going to say we'd wait a bit longer."

"I would prefer not to."

Quinlan let out a put-upon sigh, then remembered abruptly. "What about those 'superficial' injuries?"

"Bruises and a mild cut," Tech said, sounding bored.

Quinlan had seen no fewer than three cuts on his face, but he decided that right now wasn't the time to draw attention to that. Fussing over Tech would give Hunter something to do, anyway. . .

For the next couple of minutes, they sat quietly next to each other in the empty hallway. Quinlan pretended not to notice when Tech twitched or gasped, and Tech just as studiously ignored him.

Then, in the distance, someone screamed, frantic and high-pitched. The sound was so shrill and strange that Quinlan couldn't tell if it was a person, much less whether it was a male or a female voice.

Tech jolted to his feet and nearly fell over. Quinlan put an arm around his shoulders to steady him, and they stood, staring down the hall as the sound grew louder, higher, higher – then cut off without warning.

"Quinlan?" Tech looked as shaken as Quinlan felt. "That was the leviathan?"

"Yeah." Quinlan shook his head. He was beginning to recognize a whispery sensation in his mind when it was the leviathan's mental scream as opposed to its physical one. "Come on, let's get down the stairs."