At long, long last, here is the final part of the final climax! :D


The ice-cold surface of the kyber crystal, which pressed against Vythia's forearm as she lay on the floor, was the only thing keeping her from slipping into the darkness that pressed around her. Now that Zenaya was not suppressing the effects of her injury, her weakened body wanted to simply fade away.

But Vythia did not. She fought to remain conscious with every bit of strength she had left. She was herself again, something she had utterly despaired of when she woke up in Aantonaii with a lightsaber injury through one heart, and she would not waste that opportunity by giving in to weakness.

When Hunter stabbed her, Vythia had thought she was dying, and that her death would destroy Zenaya. Despite everything, she'd been glad. . . but then she woke up, badly injured but not dead, with Zenaya holding her under complete control once more.

When Zenaya laughed at her despair, Vythia let herself fade into the background so she wouldn't have to feel the Sith's presence.

This time, though, she would not let herself fade. She bit her lip hard in an attempt to revive herself with pain, but hardly felt it compared to the burn in her chest or the slashes in her palms. Closing one blood-covered hand, she tried to move her arm.

Voices sounded distantly through the fog, and she tried to make them out. Someone was shouting again . . . maybe at her, maybe not. She could hardly focus, let alone make out the words. Taking a slow, deliberate breath, Vythia forced her mind to follow the train of thought she gave it – perhaps anger would sustain her where hope would not.

She had wanted the Sith's power, but instead she'd been possessed. Then, she had wanted to die in order to destroy Zenaya, but instead, they had both lived. And now Vythia was free of Zenaya, and she wanted to live. . .

Some wry part of her mind commented that it would be truly ironic if she died instead.

No. I will not die, not now –

The sudden, tearing pain in her chest as she moved made her stop breathing for a few moments. When it eventually faded, the sheer relief allowed her to open her eyes again.

Her own reflection gazed back at her in the red depths of the kyber crystal, and Vythia turned away, propping her right forearm carefully against the floor so she could look out at the rest of the room.

Zenaya was standing a few meters in front of Quinlan, who knelt, bent halfway to the floor by the grip the commandos had on his arms. Despite that, he was meeting the Sith woman's eyes with a look that would have made Vythia back off even if she'd had ten of the Prince's best men with her.

But Zenaya only watched him, not seeming to care about the dangerous gold in his eyes. Of course she didn't care – she was wary of him, but not truly afraid, and making him angry could only be to her advantage. . . especially now that she was back in her own body.

Vythia let her head rest on her forearm for a moment as she kept breathing, willing her body to leave its state of shock. She had learned some useful things from Zenaya.

And she understood the Sith woman and her motives, to some extent. Vythia had followed some of her thoughts, and seen memories and flickers of visions she had received.

Many of the Sith woman's actions were guided by visions; her ability to discern the future had set her apart from most Sith, even back before the Scourge. It was what caused her to invent the rituals that allowed her to survive when none of the other Sith did.

One vision Zenaya had – which Vythia only realized, or remembered, a full day after leaving Aantonaii – was the one that made the Sith woman understand that Quinlan was her key to survival in this changed galaxy. Once the rest of the Jedi heard about her, there was no hope of her avoiding their attention unless they truly believed her to be dead. Zenaya had to escape their attention, because they would hunt her down regardless of the war; and even she could not survive against twenty or thirty of them at once.

When Zenaya proceeded to seek answers deeper in the Force, she foresaw that if Quinlan used true lightning against her, she would survive – because the rest of the Jedi would believe her to be dead. That was why she had tried so hard to make him use it, back in the tower of Aantonaii.

But Quinlan had realized that Zenaya wanted him to use the Sith lightning, and even though he couldn't make sense of it, he'd decided not to obey her. She had expected him to comply more easily, but even the apparent death of his own teammate had not made him give in. Soon, she would have killed Hunter, then resorted to using Force-lightning on the Jedi, or one of the others, until he obeyed out of sheer anger.

Somehow, Quinlan had found and exploited a weakness in the room that Zenaya had not considered. When he shattered the cortosis chains, Zenaya had, for the first time, truly realized how dangerous he was. She shouldn't have been surprised; after all, there was a connection between them, because his blood had been used to bring her back. Even though he held none of her power, she had immediately seen his potential for darkness.

But even after that, Zenaya failed to recognize one more thing. A bond also existed between Quinlan and Vythia as a result of the ritual in the Core, because she had completed the ritual and he had been the catalyst. When Quinlan reached to Vythia through the Force, the Nautolan woman – for the first time since being possessed – was able to call on it herself and reach back. That sudden, unexpected connection was what allowed her to work with the Jedi and paralyze the Sith woman.

Then Hunter stabbed her, and Zenaya had been forced to act quickly, sending Vythia's body into a state of unconsciousness so deep that she was not even breathing for the few minutes it took for Hunter and Quinlan to recover and leave the room, believing her to be dead.

It was while meditating on the flight to Nar Shaddaa that Zenaya realized her attempts to turn Quinlan to the Dark Side had been premature. She could have succeeded, given more time, but perhaps it was just as well that she had not. This way, she would get another chance without risk of the rest of the Jedi sensing her returning to her body after her reported death.

Zenaya knew where Vythia had stored her crystal, and Quinlan Vos would be in the same area, trying to destroy it and other artifacts. He was relentless. . . at least when he knew what he had to do. Zenaya's thought at that moment had been clear as crystal. The perfect apprentice . . . if he can be broken.

She did not think that would happen, but either way, as soon as Zenaya returned to her own body, she would locate Quinlan and force him to attack her.

As for the others, she had allowed them to live, to leave Malachor without interference, because she had no reason to kill them . . . yet. And they might still serve a purpose. If all else failed, she could always capture a group of innocents and execute them in front of Quinlan until he obeyed her, but his friends were more useful. The Jedi was attached to them, and he no longer held the conviction that using the Dark Side was inherently wrong. How quickly that had changed. . . as it always did, when a Jedi was faced with true sacrifice.

Zenaya smiled to herself, remembering how her master had turned Jedi after Jedi to his own cause. He had understood sacrifice, and so did Zenaya. And so would Quinlan.

During the flight from Malachor, Vythia had pulled away from the Sith woman's meditation as soon as possible. She'd tried to reach Quinlan through their bond and warn him, but he hadn't seemed to hear her.

Then Zenaya stopped her and took over, reaching out to each of the soldiers, trying to read some of their knowledge about the Jedi Temple. At the same time, Vythia tried to warn them that Zenaya was coming. But the only one who seemed to really notice either of their presences was Hunter, and even then he only recognized them as a nightmare.

Hunter. . . ? He should be nearby.

Vythia opened her eyes again, wondering how much time had passed. She felt steadier than before, but Zenaya was still standing over Quinlan, not speaking; it couldn't have been more than a minute.

Someone shifted, to the left of the crystal, and Vythia dragged herself forward a little so she could see around the front. Hunter was reaching for the dagger Zenaya had dropped.

"Wait," Vythia whispered, and paused to draw a breath. "Do not draw her attention by attempting . . . to fight."

Hunter's eyes narrowed as he looked sideways at her. "You want me to let her kill us?"

"If she wanted you dead, you would be."

"I'm not going to wait around until she decides to kill us," Hunter hissed, but he had paused, fingers only just brushing the dagger's hilt.

"She does not want to kill you," Vythia insisted. "Any of you."

"Yeah?" he whispered back. "How do you know that?"

She almost laughed, but didn't dare to tell him exactly how many of Zenaya's thoughts she had seen. Not while the Sith woman was so close. "Trust me, Hunter."

The look he gave her clearly implied he would do no such thing, and Vythia could not blame him. Holding back a cough, she swallowed and said, "Do not trust me, then. But Zenaya knows what you are doing."

Hunter hesitated, looking warily at the Sith woman.

"She is at full strength now. . ." Vythia paused for breath. "And you could not fight her even when she was not."

When he didn't so much as blink, she leaned closer. "Hunter, if you draw her anger now, you will accomplish nothing, and she will only torment you again."

That made him flinch, so perhaps he would listen to reason. However, the time Vythia had spent with the commandos told her that it was just as likely that he would not.

"You can . . . use the Force," he said, half-questioning.

"I – no. I never truly had it." Vythia met Hunter's eyes as she clutched at the crystal, dragging herself into a half-seated posture. She had to convince him to get out, while there was still time. "Zenaya will make Quinlan obey her . . . and when she does, the rest of us may very well die."

He looked at the motionless Jedi, whose eyes were a deep, uncanny gold as he tried again to reach Zenaya, jerking against the commandos' grips. Hunter let out his breath suddenly. "The lightning."

Vythia inclined her head. "There are only two outcomes now. Quinlan will obey Zenaya, or we will all die. And if he obeys . . . we have to escape."

He shook his head.

"Yes." Vythia rested her forehead against the crystal again, trying to gather the strength to stand, then looked up, clenching a fist. "We have to, Hunter. . . or you have to, at least."

"Not without the others," he said in a low voice, half his attention on Zenaya.

Vythia crawled forward a step and grabbed his hand in both of her own, ignoring how the cuts in her palms burned. "Yes, without the others. Do not fool yourself into thinking you could survive what is about to happen. Get out, get the Marauder, come back – I will do what I can from here."

For a moment, they both watched Zenaya as she leaned over Quinlan, placing her hands against either side of his head.

"The shuttle's two kilometers away," Hunter said, but she could hear the resolve in his voice weakening. At least he was considering her words. "But we have a speeder. . ."

"Then get that!" She gripped his fingers so hard that he winced. "Hunter, we need a way to leave, before Quinlan –" Vythia coughed, the air tearing painfully at her left lung, then gasped, "Remember what he did to the leviathan! He hardly had to try – this will be worse."

Hunter's gaze sharpened, as if in realization, then shifted to the others again.

Vythia followed his look unwillingly. The three commandos were still unable to move from their assigned positions; and Zenaya was standing, looking down at the Jedi through half-closed eyes while Quinlan tried to turn his head away. He was panting for breath, eyes almost glowing as he cast erratic, unseeing looks around the room.

"She is trying to read his thoughts," Vythia murmured in realization, then rounded on her companion and spoke in a sharp whisper. "While she is distracted, Hunter! Leave!"

Hunter turned his head and stared at the floor for a couple of seconds, still hesitant, and Vythia could have struck him. But then, as if suddenly deciding to trust her, he nodded and got to his feet.

With a final glance at the others, he took his cable attachment off his belt and ran to the open hangar doorway. Shooting the cable into the floor, he jumped over the edge and was gone.

Vythia clutched at the crystal again. She had no idea what she could do to save the others, if anything, but she could do nothing until she was upright.

It took her nearly half a minute to get her feet under her and catch her balance, and even then she had to grab at the slippery surface with both hands until she could reach the handle of the loader that the kyber was on. Her muscles trembled so much that even though she heard the approaching footsteps behind her, she couldn't turn before they reached her.

A strong hand caught her elbow and steadied her. "Having trouble, ma'am?" a familiar, guttural voice inquired.

"Cad Bane." Vythia kept the surprise from her voice, knowing she had to tread very carefully. The Duros was here for a reason, and it certainly wasn't to save his former employer. "I suppose you would not help me destroy that woman."

"You suppose correctly." Cad Bane touched two fingers to his hat – which now had a blaster hole through the crown – in a sort of regretful salute. Then he gripped her wrists and lifted her hands away from the loader's handle. "Not taking my chances with someone like that. 'Sides, Dooku wants this crystal, pronto."

"The shuttle you were to deliver it in was destroyed," she gritted out, fighting him every step of the way in an attempt to reach the loader again.

"Mm-hmm." Bane shifted her calmly to one side, letting her lean against the black ship instead. "So were the spirit urns. Too bad. . . they would've fetched a good price. Fortunately for all of us, I've got my own ship."

"But –" Vythia stared after him as the Justifier hovered outside the hangar door, piloted by that idiotic droid of Bane's. The starfighter's grappling claws were already extended to take the crystal, loader and all; he must be planning to land a short distance away and put the crystal in another shuttle. "What about Embo? Dengar?"

"They already cleared out." The bounty hunter took the dangling claws and attached them to the four corners of the loader, then passed another length of cable around the crystal itself. "Not that Dengar would be of much use, anyhow. . ."

A flicker of an idea came to Vythia, and she pointed at Quinlan as she took a wavering step towards Cad Bane. "He is a Jedi – the bounty –"

The Duros shook his head and signaled to the droid. "Even a million credits ain't worth riskin' my life like that. I'm gonna close this deal and head to a different sector."

As the Justifier started to draw away, dragging the loader with it, Cad Bane touched his hat to Vythia one last time. "Sorry, little lady," he said, with false regret, and backed towards the edge of the hangar bay. "If you survive, be sure to collect the bounty on Vos. You'll be needing it, I figure."

Vythia turned her head sharply away and ignored him. She heard Cad Bane fly to his starfighter, and a few seconds later, he was gone.

Zenaya was still reading the Jedi's thoughts, and he hardly seemed to be fighting her anymore. . . there wasn't much time left.

But even as Vythia looked from the dagger to Crosshair's rifle, which was halfway across the room, she knew perfectly well that it didn't matter how much time she had. There was no way for her to get the commandos away from the Jedi, much less out of Zenaya's control, without help from one of the Force-users.

Perhaps the Jedi would maintain enough presence of mind to throw the commandos aside, rather than killing them, when he did inevitably let the Dark Side take over. And then she and Hunter could get them onto the speeder . . . and away. That was the best she could hope for, at this point.

With a sudden gesture, Zenaya released Quinlan and stepped back, looking almost pensive as the Jedi hung his head, shuddering.

"You seek Darth Sidious," she said. "All the Jedi seek him. And yet they cannot find him. Are the Jedi of this age so weak?"

The Sith woman wasn't mocking him – she seemed genuinely surprised.

Quinlan seemed to hear the same thing, because he stirred and looked up.

"I could find him," Zenaya said. "I will teach you to find him, if you wish. You would need my help, but I believe you could – and then you could end this war . . . and save those who are in it."

She cast an interested look at the commandos. "Especially those created for the war itself. Who decided on that, I wonder? They fight on the side of the Jedi . . ."

He didn't answer her, and she made a dismissive gesture. "But perhaps they are of less consequence to you than to most. You are not in this army, are you? You do not stand in battle with these . . . clone troopers. But your former apprentice does. Aayla Secura is young for a Jedi Knight. Can you keep her safe?"

Quinlan laughed tonelessly, but Vythia knew he had been stung all the same. "No Jedi is ever safe," he said.

"True . . . Still, she is safe enough, at the moment," Zenaya said. "I was asking if you could keep her safe from me, when I hunt her down."

The Jedi's empty facade shattered, and he whipped his head up to stare at her. "Why?"

"You know why."

"I won't become your apprentice!"

Zenaya laughed, a surprisingly bright sound, and stepped back, spreading her arms slightly. "You see the past, Quinlan. I see the future. I do not need you to become my apprentice – I need only for you to obey this one time."

The Jedi ground his teeth and glanced to either side, at the commandos who held him in place. "I won't kill them."

"You will have to risk it," Zenaya answered. "But I think you are right. You have enough control to keep from killing them."

Carefully, Vythia leaned forward to picked up the ceremonial dagger, then straightened again. If necessary, she would stab Quinlan; the resulting pain would break his focus and, perhaps, gain the others some time.

Zenaya was leaning over him again. "Why will you not do it?"

"You – want it," Quinlan managed to say. "It will gain you something, Zenaya – I'd be letting a Sith walk free –"

"There are already two at least who walk free," she said, and smiled, turning her hands up in a shrug. "A Sith lord . . . and, presumably, his apprentice."

He stared at her without answering.

"If you succeed, I will die, and you will have lost nothing. If you fail, I will still tell you how to find Sidious. But if you refuse to even try, I will massacre the people of this city. It has been many centuries . . . some practice would not go amiss."

The Jedi looked down at the floor, expressionless. Vythia shifted her grip on the point of the blade, drawing one arm back in preparation to throw it.

Zenaya used two fingers to tilt Quinlan's chin up so that he had to look at her as she spoke again, voice lowered. "Think carefully, Quinlan Vos – in obeying me, you would not truly be betraying anyone but yourself. One of your friends has already escaped, and the others can as well. Is it not your sworn duty to destroy the Sith, Jedi Shadow? Or at least to try?"

Quinlan had fallen utterly still, and Vythia reached out to him in her thoughts. He didn't seem to notice her presence.

Drawing the lightwhip from her belt, Zenaya turned it on and flicked the red lash sharply against the floor, where it left a black burn. "Do as I command, or I shall execute your friends in front of you, and then Vythia – whom, perhaps, you already wish to be dead. . .?"

She trailed off thoughtfully.

The Jedi grimaced, half-closing his eyes, and Vythia somehow knew that he was trying to compel the others to release him. Sure enough, the next instant, the commandos shifted, appearing to be in pain – their faces went pale, and Tech stumbled.

At the same time, Vythia heard the sound of an engine and glanced back to see that Hunter had landed the speeder just inside the door.

Zenaya noticed both things, but she only raised one white eyebrow-marking in response before saying, "And then, after I decimate this city, I will leave Nar Shaddaa and hunt for your apprentice."

"No!" Quinlan clenched his hands and opened them with a sharp movement. Behind him, Wrecker suddenly released him and dropped to his knees, clutching at his head.

Vythia gestured sharply to Hunter, who was already running forward. He grabbed Wrecker's arm and half-dragged him towards the speeder.

Still, the Sith woman completely ignored them. "Yes," she said softly. "I will kill Aayla, and her men, and then I will find Kit Fisto. He is an excellent duelist . . . Perhaps he will even provide something of a challenge for me."

"He'll kill you," gasped Quinlan, wrenching one arm free from Tech's hold.

"He will try." Zenaya turned off her lightwhip and hung it on her belt, then looked at Tech.

Swaying, the commando reached for Quinlan's wrist again. Quinlan pulled away and gestured abruptly, throwing Tech back several meters.

Tech slammed to the floor. Vythia dropped to one knee next to him. Somehow, she dragged him to his feet, then shoved him towards Hunter, who had just picked up Crosshair's sniper rifle. She hoped he was not planning to use it. . . it would do no good.

When she glanced back at Quinlan, it was to see that he was on his knees and one hand, with Crosshair wrenching the other hand up behind his shoulders so roughly that she was surprised his arm hadn't broken yet.

Zenaya glanced at the speeder, then met Vythia's eyes and smiled, her teeth gleaming for an instant before she turned back to Quinlan. "Once I reach Coruscant, I will execute Commander Fox and his soldiers. . . and any others whom you may have reason to call a friend. I know who they are, I know where they are, I know their Force-signatures. I will have killed them and left before the Jedi can even respond.

She tilted her head, as though a thought had just occurred to her. "And I will tell each of my victims that you sent me. They will die . . . all because a Jedi refused to kill a Sith . . .?"

The sound and light in the room seemed to fade and dim, and then Quinlan stood abruptly, nearly throwing Crosshair off. There was a brilliant flash of sapphire lightning that made Vythia's eyes sting, and the sniper released Quinlan and jerked back with a shout as the Jedi turned a little, his entire focus directed at Zenaya.

As the Togrutan woman's silvery eyes sharpened with triumph, Vythia stepped forward and hurled the knife straight at Quinlan's head. He jerked one hand down without looking, redirecting the blade into the floor, and advanced on Zenaya.

The Sith woman stepped back and spread her arms to either side as she ducked her head, watching him from beneath her eyelashes.

The first flicker of true lightning was almost hesitant – like he was just learning how to use it. Zenaya blocked it with a mere look and paced a few steps to one side, watching Quinlan unblinkingly as she circled him like a loth wolf.

Quinlan stayed where he was for a long moment, as if he were considering.

Then he rounded on Zenaya. Bolts of electricity leaped from his fingers, hitting her chest and face and arcing to the floor all around her with searing pops and snaps.

The air burned, and Vythia hardly realized she'd fallen to her knees. Then hands were closing on her shoulders and dragging her upright, and Hunter pulled her back towards the speeder.

She stumbled, half-following him, but she could not bring herself to look away. Zenaya was not crumpling under the onslaught. She was standing erect, calm as ever, staring intently at the Jedi as though willing him to do better.

"She is not dying," Vythia said, her words hardly audible to even herself over the constant arcing of electricity. "Quinlan will let the Dark –"

"Get in the speeder!" Hunter gasped, and she snapped out of the trancelike state she'd been in.

Climbing in, she stumbled against the pilot's seat. "We have to take off!"

Wrecker, in the co-pilot's seat, turned to look at Hunter with a question in his eyes.

"Leave him!" Vythia cried, reaching past him to release the airbrake. "Get out of range, now!"

"Do it," Hunter ordered, and Tech piloted them out of the hangar bay while Crosshair braced one knee against the edge of the pilot's seat and readied his rifle.

"Shooting at her will do nothing," Vythia said, but the commandos ignored her. She could only hope that Zenaya would not attack them in response –

The speeder was barely ten meters from the edge of the hangar when Hunter stepped between the front seats. "Take her out," he said hoarsely, lifting his own gun.

Tech brought the vehicle to a hover as Crosshair, Wrecker, and Hunter fired laser after laser at Zenaya's head. They did not break through the Force-shield that Zenaya blocked them with, and Vythia watched silently, knowing that the Sith woman was drawing on Quinlan's attack to add to her own strength. He could never defeat her with his own power, because he was not trained in the use of the Dark Side. And even if he had been –

The commandos stopped firing, finally seeming to understand how pointless it was, but they didn't fly any further from the hangar.

Suddenly, the splintering sound of electricity died away, and Quinlan lowered his hands and looked at Zenaya, his features drawn and wary.

The Sith woman lifted one hand and hurled him to the floor with a bolt of violet that made him twist onto his back with a hoarse scream.

Just as quickly, Zenaya stopped. "It is only you and I now, Quinlan. . . Why hold back, when there is so much power at your fingertips?"

He stood up painfully as Zenaya wandered around him again. When she stopped, he turned to face her. From this angle, Vythia could clearly see both of their expressions as they gazed at each other.

The Nautolan woman watched the Jedi and the Sith with a sense of inevitability. There had only ever been one way for this to end.

Quinlan's tense expression went deathly calm. He closed his eyes, and Vythia shivered, an encroaching blackness rushing through her soul like it had when Zenaya's spirit first entered her.

Then, abruptly, the Jedi straightened, head thrown back and eyes burning a hellish, unnatural gold as he flung his arms out to either side. He nearly vanished in the horrifically bright flash of blue and electric-white that leaped out and filled the room.

Crosshair jerked his head to one side, and Hunter doubled over his knees. Zenaya was hurled over the edge of the hangar bay and pinned in mid-air, her whole body rigid. As she hung suspended in the arc of light that burned between Quinlan and herself, snapping bolts of lightning streaked through what had been the Prince's stronghold. The black ship from Malachor splintered and warped, the building's walls tore and crumbled, and the ceiling exploded upward, flinging debris in all directions. Some of it was thrown past the speeder, but nobody moved or tried to duck.

Vythia clung to the edge of the speeder and leaned against it, trembling. Far below her, the pale blue lights of the city twinkled quietly as the fuel storage segment of the building, at the left corner, burst into violent flame. Screams sounded from the lower levels of the warehouse and then cut off as the lightning burned and spread out – and out – and out –

Then there was a flash so bright that everything scattered into sharp, meaningless bursts of color that pricked and stung at the back of her mind, and for an instant she didn't even know where she was.

As her vision slowly returned, Vythia glanced up. Everything was quiet. Zenaya was gone, as if she had never existed in the first place, and so was the lightning. Only the fire burned, spouting smoky flames high into the night sky. The red light of the blaze flickered and reflected in the now-dark hangar, and Vythia caught sight of Quinlan.

The Jedi stumbled to the very edge of the floor, then dropped to his knees and looked down at the city.

Hunter was standing again, leaning against the back of Tech's seat. Next to Vythia, Crosshair gritted his teeth, pressing both hands against his eyes.

Tech's hands seemed frozen to the steering yoke.

"Tech – come on," Wrecker said, his voice abnormally quiet. "We've gotta get Quinlan."

"Understood," Tech said, sounding dazed. The speeder drifted forward again.

As it neared the Jedi, Wrecker leaned over the edge, holding out a hand. Quinlan gazed at it uncomprehendingly for a moment, then caught it and jumped onto the speeder, stepping past Vythia without looking at anyone. In the running lights from the speeder, she could see that his eyes had changed back to their usual hazel, but they looked haunted. He looked haunted.

Hunter shifted and inhaled sharply, and Vythia turned to look at him, then caught her breath with a painful jolt. His left forearm was pinned to the side of the pilot's chair by a piece of metal debris. For a moment, she thought it had gone straight through, but when Hunter pulled it out, she realized that it was curved. One edge had sunk into the hard material of the chair, and the other had pierced his armor.

With shaking fingers, Hunter pulled off his vambrace, letting it fall with the metal still in it, and Vythia heard herself let out a faint cry. The cut on the inside of his forearm was about twelve centimeters long, not particularly deep, and –

"Just like the others," she said, then choked and gasped for breath. Her left side was on fire again.

Quinlan looked up slowly, first at Hunter's arm and then at her. His eyes darkened in silent understanding, and she realized he already knew.

Everything spun and wavered. Vythia clutched at the co-pilot's seat to steady herself, but fell to her knees.

Someone caught her around the shoulders.

Her heart pounded wildly, then seemed to freeze. As the darkness closed in over her, Vythia closed her eyes in resignation.

"Tech," Hunter said, his tone suddenly urgent. "Get us to –"

She didn't hear the rest.