As Wrecker and Quinlan left the central room with Vythia trailing after them, Hunter paused and glanced up at the ceiling. He could have sworn he'd felt a faint vibration just now from above, almost like something heavy had fallen; but when he knelt in the middle of the floor and pressed his hands flat against the stones, he didn't feel anything. After attempting once more to reach Tech or Crosshair via comms, the sergeant got to his feet.

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

Vythia peered at the creature, her lips quirking in clear uncertainty.

"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."

"No, we do not." 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 warily. "Much as I admire the accomplishments of the Sith, this is one I can do without having in close proximity . . ."

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

The Kiffar looked at her, eyes darkening with suspicion. "Why?"

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

There was a ringing silence, broken only by the rasping breaths of the leviathan. Vythia peered back out at the creature, 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, but he didn't know what to say. After another instant of silence, 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 stepped out into the corridor without looking at him. "After using the Force to stop that statue from eviscerating Crosshair, and then using it to keep Hunter from falling . . ."

The sergeant stared at her, utterly confused. If she'd figured out that Quinlan was a Jedi, why hadn't she challenged him about it? Hadn't she been afraid that Quinlan would try and destroy the artifacts she'd been collecting? Was she just amused at the fact that the team was trying to hide it? Hunter shook his head. "Vythia – why a Jedi? Why not just a – Force-sensitive?"

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

So all their subterfuge had been useless? Or had it? Hunter stared between Vythia and the Jedi. Maybe she was lying, and had only recently discovered Quinlan's abilities . . . but what would be the point of her lying about it? If there was one thing Hunter was sure about, when it came to Vythia, it was that she always had a purpose behind everything she did – or, she pretended she had a purpose behind everything she did.

Then the leviathan dragged in another slow, gurgling breath, and Hunter shook his head. He could worry about Vythia, and her motivations, after the remaining team members had weakened the leviathan so Quinlan could try locating Tech and Crosshair in the Force.

But when Hunter turned to the Jedi, Quinlan was still observing Vythia, his gaze sharp and watchful as she continued to ignore him.

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

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

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

The sergeant didn't know, so he ignored her in favor of staring at the leviathan. The creature had its head lifted slightly towards them. Its lower jaw hung, the left side torn away from the rest of its skull, and several of its black teeth had been shattered. The unsevered tentacles lay along the floor near either side of its head, giving sporadic twitches. One of them dragged 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, as far as he knew, the surest way of ensuring that it was dead. And if Vythia was right about the leviathan surviving should-be-fatal injuries, well, at least taking off its head would keep it from biting. 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 the grasping tentacles. They'd have to go through the inside. "Wrecker," he said. "I think our first plan was the best – we need to get those explosives down its throat."

"Yeah, figured that out." Wrecker shoved his helmet back, looking mildly disgusted by the idea. "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 caught his gaze and shrugged, as though to say, 'well, I offered'.

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

"Very well." She rotated her knives so the blades faced outward. "I will focus on removing those tentacles."

"Good idea." Hunter glanced at the leviathan again as it shifted and gradually drew its long, looped coils in on itself. As the monster moved, its head dropped momentarily towards the floor, and Hunter flinched all over at the scratching, grating sound of the broken upper teeth as they dragged against the stones.

Jerking its head up, the leviathan shook it heavily, its focus pulled away from the hallway it had been facing.

Hunter signaled for his teammates 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 creature's face. It twisted clumsily to follow her, two long tentacles snaking against the wall to keep its head up while the other two grasped at her ankles.

Quinlan activated his lightsaber and stabbed it into the right side of the monster's massive 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 was brought up short when it reached bone.

What's this thing made of, durasteel? Hunter shoved the lightsaber hilt with all its strength. Then the monster wrenched sideways, forcing itself further onto Hunter's blade, and he had to brace his feet to avoid being flung back. It let out a hiss, and Wrecker fell to his knees and one hand, clutching the explosives protectively against chest with the other arm.

"Wrecker, get up!" Vythia shouted over the big commando's groan.

The tentacle nearest Hunter twitched toward his right arm, and 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 higher-pitched as it finally pierced through the bone.

A sharp 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 as hard as he could into 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 even to try distracting it. At least right now, the monster's head was held back so it couldn't bite.

As Vythia finally succeeded in cutting off the tentacle she'd been hacking at, 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, voice panicked. "Aw, man, I HATE snakes!"

Hunter yanked his lightsaber free of 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, and he stared down 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 outta range!"

But Quinlan had put his lightsaber away and was reaching out with both hands, trying to use the Force to get Wrecker down. The leviathan gagged again, the awful sound vibrating against the stones, and Hunter stared at the Jedi, waiting for him to drag the tentacles close enough so they could get Wrecker down.
With another retching gag, the leviathan coughed up one of the explosive charges, which clattered to the stones in front of it.

"Hunter, MOVE!" roared Wrecker, in a tone he'd used only twice before. "I have to set them off!"

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, and 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. He was thrown down on top of Quinlan, then rolled off to land on his back.

There was a mind-rending screech, but no vibrations – the leviathan was not physically screaming. With a 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 the monster wasn't dead now, it never would be.

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

"Wrecker," he said. His own voice sounded muted through the ringing in his ears, and he shook his head hard. "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 roughly. 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 Wrecker's neck for spinal injuries. Finding none, he tilted Wrecker's head to the left to reveal 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?!"

"Aw, stop yellin'," Wrecker answered, and winced as he lifted a shaking hand to his forehead. "'Sides, that first time 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, "Hey, least this one was 'n purpose . . ."

"Of all the idiotic – what were you thinking?" Hunter repeated pointlessly. He already knew what Wrecker had been thinking.

The sergeant couldn't quite compare the pupils of Wrecker's eyes to each other, but the right one was noticeably bigger than normal. Hunter became suddenly aware of Quinlan hovering beside him while Vythia approached from down the hall, but he didn't look up. He was too busy keeping pressure on the injury and trying to remove the coiled tentacles at the same time.

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

"Better than lightsabers," Quinlan answered, and joined Hunter in tugging one of the clutching tentacles from around Wrecker's chest. "I think it's unconscious, anyway."

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 Wrecker's forehead to hold the gauze in place. It was just for while they were moving him; as soon as possible, Hunter intended to get Wrecker into as upright a position as possible, so the blood didn't pool in the back of his head.

"Hunter?" Vythia said, kneeling at Wrecker's left side. "Are you sure we should we lift him?"

"I'm getting him to the central room downstairs," Hunter answered shortly, ducking to get his shoulders under Wrecker's left arm. "It's the safest area we've got right now – if anywhere in this place can be safe – and he won't be able to move around on his own for a couple hours at least."

"Then I will help," she replied, slipping an arm beneath Wrecker's right elbow. Between the two of them, they managed to hoist Wrecker to his feet.

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

A brief flicker of pain flashed through Hunter's head before settling down into a dull, consistent ache. The sergeant froze, letting out a faint sound of disbelief. "Quinlan . . .?"

"I know," the Jedi answered, clipping Hunter's lightsaber to his belt for him. "I'm going to try to find them anyway. It's extremely weak right now."

Sure enough, as they moved away from the leviathan, the headache faded into almost nothing. But even without that impediment, it took all three of them to get Wrecker down the stairs to the main level's central room. Wrecker tried to help, and did manage to walk – after a fashion. 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 hall of the academy. For now, this was the closest they were going to get to the Marauder – Hunter wasn't leaving without the other two, and he couldn't leave Wrecker unattended, not with the level of concussion he probably had.

The sergeant 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 moving visibly beneath closed 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, and the sergeant turned again.

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

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 exhale. 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 needed to get out of it, and fast. The sergeant gave him another shake, but even though Quinlan started to breathe again, he still wouldn't wake up. Well, Hunter thought, it had worked once; and odds were, it would probably work again. He pulled back and slapped the Jedi 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 the Jedi closely. He was breathing normally again, returning from whatever Force-forsaken thing he'd been seeing or feeling.

"I doubt it."

Before Hunter could demand a straight answer from the Nautolan woman, Quinlan opened his eyes suddenly.

He stared at Hunter for a long moment before saying, "Hunter. It's – still here. It's, it's still the same –"

"What?"

Shaking his head, Quinlan clambered to his feet, then 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."

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

The Jedi took a deep breath. "The presence that watched me in Lothal, on the mansion roof . . . The one here is the same one."

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 for the others, but that thing did."

Hunter let out his breath quietly, then straightened. "If you can't find them through the Force, we'll have to do it the slow way, and keep trying to contact the others." He glanced down at his comm. "They can't all have just stopped working . . . can they?"

"I don't know," the Jedi said, tapping his own comm. "They weren't earlier."

But when Hunter activated his transmitter, Quinlan's commlink blinked green. So did Wrecker's, and Vythia's.

"Well, they are now." Hunter looked back at the Jedi. "So Tech and Crosshair are out of range, or their comms are damaged –"

Or, Hunter's missing teammates were unable to reply. But what could have happened to cause that? Not stormbeasts, surely . . .

Quinlan shook his head again, this time wearily, and pressed the heels of both hands against his eyes. "Or they can't use their comms," he said, unconsciously echoing Hunter's thoughts. "I'm going to look for them. 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 and go hall by hall – I'll come back here at intervals if I don't find anything."

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

"No." Quinlan's gaze cut to Vythia, and then he jerked his head towards Wrecker, who was half-asleep. "If something happens, he's not going to be able to do anything. And he needs to be looked after."

"Yeah." Hunter hesitated. "But 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 seated herself gracefully, tugged a parchment from her satchel, and started to read.

Quinlan shot her an uneasy look, then headed across the room to the right. "I'll check in every fifteen minutes," he said.

"Understood."

As the Jedi vanished, Hunter rested a hand against the floor. 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."

Trying not to think too hard about the fact that it could reattach its head at all, Hunter sat down next to Wrecker and nudged him with an elbow. "You still awake?"

"Yeah . . ." Wrecker let out a tired sigh. "Hey, Hunter, did it work?"

"Yeah," Hunter said heavily. "It worked. Blew its head clean off. . . and yet that thing's still alive and moving. Blast these Sith and their filthy experiments!"

Vythia's gaze flickered up from the parchment to meet Hunter's. He glowered at her, 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, he thought. It's hard to get lost in straight corridors that all lead back to the main ones.

Since beginning his search, Quinlan had gone back to the central room twice. The second time, the sergeant had been pacing restlessly, fingers drumming against his forearms as he walked. Quinlan reported no progress and then asked how things were going. Hunter replied that nothing was happening. He'd been 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 quarter 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 and aesthetically displeasing academy. He supposed that griping about things he couldn't change was better than focusing on that second presence. At this point, Quinlan was afraid that even thinking about it would attract its attention.

Then a very faint voice called weakly, from the other quarter he hadn't searched, and for a moment Quinlan froze, listening carefully. Either the leviathan was strong enough to start confusing them already, or there was an illusion, or one of the missing commandos was there.

Well, he'd be searching all the hallways either way – he 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 already open, 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 – it certainly didn't belong to Tech or Crosshair. Grimacing, Quinlan kept going. Where were they?

After that one strange cry, there were no more voices or sounds . . . nothing to indicate anyone's presence. Quinlan ran forward, shoved open a closed door, and paused as he noticed it was one of the 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 shards of broken stone, the lack of furniture, and the dark corner sixteen meters away, with a towering, four-armed statue that held its stone prisoner and stared forbiddingly at the doorway as though daring him to enter.

Quinlan glanced 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 neither of them had seemed to notice him. Most likely, they were like the statues in Lothal, that just dropped other statues and tried to kill people with them. What kind of person thought of making statues to kill people, anyway?

Sith, of course, he thought. Who else?

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

Clamping his hands over his ears in irritation, Quinlan 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 there were no sounds except for the occasional disembodied scream or shriek. He was completely alone in the dark – or was he? At one point, the Jedi 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's voice, rising over the others.

"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 that attacking the leviathan on his own would be stupidly dangerous, but he still wanted to go down and skewer it 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, and then his heart began 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 and stared 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 . . . Taking a step forward,Quinlan 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. The commando was hanging limply from the statue's iron grip, his black clothes nearly indistinguishable from the dark statue behind him.

And I left him here! Quinlan thought in shock. He was here when I went past, and I didn't even realize –!

The statue was staring fixedly at nothing, and holding Tech by his wrists and ankles, just as it had held its stone prisoner. 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 stepped 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 – strong."

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

He didn't sound like he was getting enough air. How could he be, 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."

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

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

As his lightsaber blade brushed the black fingers, it flickered out. It sparked on again almost immediately, and Quinlan stepped back with a snarl.

"Quinlan?" Tech asked, shifting a little. "What – is it?"

"It's cortosis," he snapped. "Of all the karking Sith tricks! Tech? I can get you out of there, but it's going to take me a while. 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 pointless to try and get through cortosis armor during a battle. . . hard enough to get through when you've got plenty of time, blast it."

On – off – on – off. The statue's fingers were deceptively thin, and took him nearly a full minute to get through the first four. After moving to a different section, he 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 hand 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 – then again, he'd probably been listening to that kind of sound 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 – I think that was me you saw. I thought you were a statue, I didn't think to look. Kriff, Tech, I'm sorry."

"It was a – reasonable error," Tech murmured. 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 so I can find Crosshair. . .

Quinlan 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.

Trying not to use his hands any more than necessary, Quinlan got one foot on a wide fold in the statue's robe, then braced himself and scrambled 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 himself off with a sharp intake of breath. "I do not know. I lost track quickly – perhaps three hours – or four . . ."

Edging out onto the statue's right arm, Quinlan kept his feet braced against the stone robes that hung from it. Leaning forward, he twisted slightly so he could study the long fingers which were closed tightly around Tech's wrists. The angle was awkward, but Quinlan knew he could manage. Hopefully. 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 the hilt to look at the kyber crystal. It 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 replied neutrally. "Ah. I see."

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 only for a few seconds. When Tech inhaled sharply, the Jedi released him, then used the Force and lifted him a couple of centimeters, just enough to remove the strain from his wrists. Dark Side or not, it worked.

Then his knee slipped on the statue's robes, and Quinlan faltered wildly before recovering his balance. He gave his head a hard shake and tried to focus.

When a full minute had passed, he released Tech again and checked on his kyber crystal. It 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. "Quinlan?"

"Right here," Quinlan said, leaning forward to give his fingers a squeeze. "Crystal's cooling down, but it'll be another minute. Hang in there, okay?"

Tech huffed quietly. "There is not much else – I can do."

With an unamused snort, Quinlan touched the kyber crystal lightly, not quite burning himself. "Yeah, I should probably have worded that differently."

Eventually, the crystal cooled down enough that Quinlan thought he could risk activating his lightsaber again. 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, then lowered Tech as smoothly as he could. "Okay – I'm letting go," he warned.

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

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

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

"I – am – attempting to –!"

"Here." Locking his knees around the statue's arm, Quinlan 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 –

He made it through the first cut and let out his breath. "Okay, almost there. One more and I'm done."

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

"What – happened?" Tech panted.

"Kyber crystal shattered."

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

When he pressed the activator stud, 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 statue's 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.

An instant before he finished, he released Tech's fingers and leaned down to catch him by the forearm. As soon as the lightsaber cut through the cortosis, Quinlan turned it off and tossed it aside. He gripped Tech under the arms as the metal fingers clinked to the stone floor. Tech's weight nearly pulled him off-balance, but he caught himself.

The ground was only a meter below Tech's feet, but the commando was unsteady. The last thing Tech needed was to collapse and whack his head against the statue itself, so Quinlan hoisted him 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 still much more gentle than it would have been.

Disentangling himself quickly, the Jedi pulled Tech into a sitting position. "You still with me?"

Tech nodded shortly. Sweat gleamed on his temples, but he was breathing more easily now. Keeping a hand on his shoulder, Quinlan reached over to pick up his 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. "You okay, Tech?"

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

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

"Hm." Tech frowned and let out a mildly exasperated huff. "Then we should move while I am still capable of it."

He tried to get up and nearly collapsed.

"Yeah, no," said Quinlan. "Let me check you for injuries first."

"Quinlan," said Tech matter-of-factly, still trying to get up. "I had ample time to categorize my injuries after I was picked up by that statue –"

Catching him around the waist with one arm, Quinlan hoisted Tech to his feet and decided to put off checking him until they were out of the room. "What happened, anyway?"

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

He paused for breath.

"Yeah," said Quinlan. "It was the leviathan."

"Yes." Tech's expression was slightly irritated. "I followed what I assumed to be yours and Wrecker's voices. When I came in here, the statue threw the prisoner statue, which stunned me. Then I was picked up. I did not see it happen, but – when I woke up, the statue was not where it had been when I came in."

A cold chill rushed down Quinlan's back, and he cast a quick look over his shoulder as he walked. The statue was not following or moving. It just stood there, hands outstretched even though it had no fingers, while its golden eyes gazed emptily after them.

Cursing all four-armed Sith statues to the nine Corellian hells, for all the good that would do, Quinlan paused. "Tech, stay here a second."

When Tech straightened, Quinlan released him and stepped away. Drawing his knife, he ran at the statue and leaped, caught one arm, and dragged himself up until he could stab through one of the statue's eyes. He yanked back the knife and stabbed through the other eye, only jumping off the statue after the weird, watchful sensation vanished.

Without a word, he returned to Tech. They kept walking, pausing only for Quinlan to pick up Tech's fallen pistol and replace it in his holster.

Quinlan was calculating how fast they could get back to the others, and they'd just left the room, when Tech said, "Ah – I believe – you were correct. No – we should keep going. Did you find the others?"

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

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

"They're in the central room downstairs, and safe. . . last I checked, anyway. Which reminds me." Quinlan activated his comm. "Hunter, come in."

"Quinlan?"

"I found Tech," said the Jedi.

"Where? Is he okay?"

"He was trapped, but he's mostly fine. I'll fill you in shortly, Hunter. We're making our way down."

"I'll be waiting." The sergeant 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 without commenting.

"You could not find Crosshair?" Tech asked.

"No . . . but I will. As soon as you're with the others."

They made it down one hall before Tech's voice hitched. "Quinlan – I need a moment."

"Okay." Quinlan stopped next to the wall and leaned Tech back against it. "Let's wait here for a bit."

"You should not waste time." Tech slid down the wall until he was sitting. "I will wait here."

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

Tech glanced down the empty hall in either direction, then tilted his head. "I will be perfectly fine."

"Uh-huh. Well, I've got no intention of going off to find Crosshair, only to come back and find out 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 will join you shortly."

"No."

"This will only last – a moment."

Quinlan knew from experience what Tech's arms were about to feel like. Sighing, he 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.

The Jedi flinched in sympathetic pain, but as Tech's breathing grew increasingly shallow and erratic, Quinlan 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. Still, it would be better than nothing.

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

Tech didn't even seem to notice. Half a minute passed before he jerked his arms to his stomach, then gritted his teeth and curled in on himself, breathing sharply.

Quinlan closed his eyes in an attempt to give Tech some semblance of privacy. After the first few seconds, he pretended to meditate.

Maybe he should really meditate – no, he didn't dare look for Crosshair again. Not while he had to take care of Tech. If Hunter hadn't slapped him out of that last Force-trance, he might still be wandering, trying to get past that presence. A lot of good that would do all of them. . .

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 shook visibly.

Quinlan grimaced at the sympathetic twinge that stabbed him in the stomach. He could use the Force to put Tech to sleep, maybe? After a moment's thought, he decided against it: using the Dark Side on his own mind was one thing, but he wouldn't use it on the others' minds. Not only that, but having Tech awake and at least somewhat conscious was vastly preferable to having to drag him through the academy.

For a moment, Quinlan felt a vague uneasiness at how calmly he was considering using the Dark Side on someone else's mind. But then Tech gasped again, and the Jedi shifted closer. "Tech? You have any hypos left with you?"

"N-no." Despite the grimace of pain on his face, his voice was under tight control, his inflections as even as ever.

"Yeah, I didn't think so." Quinlan watched him for a minute, then sighed. "Hey, Tech, let me try something? It'll hurt, but hopefully it'll get this over with faster."

With another shuddering breath, Tech gave a single, jerky nod.

"Okay." Quinlan opened and closed his hands. "Um – are your shoulders or arms the worst?"

". . . both. I cannot – tell."

"Okay." Kneeling behind him, Quinlan 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. Within three seconds, Tech was doubling over.

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

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

Quinlan released him and sat back on his heels. "Sorry – just, 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 before asking, "You okay now?"

". . . I believe so." Tech cleared his throat, then ducked his face back to his knees.

Pulling Tech's arms away from his stomach, Quinlan straightened them out carefully. "I can't believe I didn't see you earlier," he muttered, more to himself than to Tech as he set to work, 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 Tech let out a muffled sob.

At that, Quinlan paused and bit his lower lip before getting 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 paused, smirking self-consciously. "Or are you about to shoot me for asking so many times? Pretty sure Crosshair would."

"I am perfectly 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." Shaking his head, Quinlan went back to rubbing his shoulders. "Is this helping at all, though?"

"Considerably." Tech paused, then added, "And you are right."

"About what?"

Tech glanced at him in what might have been amusement. "Crosshair probably would shoot you for asking so many times."

"I'll bet he would." Quinlan snickered. "And 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."

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

". . . Debatable," Tech replied, his 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."

"No." Tech seemed to consider, then paused to wipe his eyes on his sleeve again. "But I will not need to. Even if we should be attacked, I will be with you. We need to move on."

"My lightsaber is broken."

"You have other weapons."

"Yeah, but – Tech, I'm nowhere near the top of my game right now. 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."

"Yeah, right." 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 as I was, he may be in a much worse condition."

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

Tech looked at him. "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 something. "Wait, what about those 'superficial' injuries?"

"Bruises and a mild cut," Tech recited calmly. "Nothing that requires your attention."

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 supposed to be a person's voice, much less whether it was meant to be male or a female.

At the sound, Tech jolted to his feet and nearly fell over. Quinlan put an arm on his shoulder 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. "I assume that was the leviathan?"

"Yeah." Quinlan shook his head to clear it. 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. "Kriffing worm . . . ugh. Come on, let's get down the stairs."