For the rest of the night, the storm continued unabated. Even after the others left the galley, Quinlan stayed at the table, leaning carefully back against the corner. He dozed off for a few minutes here and there, jolting awake whenever the sensation of spinning and falling got too strong.

After a few hours of this, a fourth bolt of lightning struck the Marauder, waking him from yet another round of sleeping-and-falling. Sighing, he dragged himself to his feet and wandered aimlessly into the cargo hold, keeping one hand on the wall for support. It was nearly oh-three-hundred, and the ship was silent, apart from the frequent crashes of thunder.

He wondered if anyone was on watch duty. There might not be much of a reason to stay on guard – there probably was no need to fear an attack from the remaining stormbeasts during the continuous lightning. He drifted into the cockpit all the same, intending to check the sensors. The lights were on their dimmest setting, and the faint sound of breathing came from the pilot's seat.

Tech was there, staring outside as he toyed idly with a few wires. As far as Quinlan could see, they weren't connected to anything.

"Fixing something?" he whispered.

Tech jerked around to face him, then sat back. "Don't – do that."

"Sorry," Quinlan said. "I was just coming in to check the sensors."

"They are clear. Not that that necessarily means much in this storm."

Quinlan made his way carefully to the co-pilot's chair and held onto the back. "I guess as long as you don't see any super stormbeasts, there's not too much to worry about."

"I suppose not."

The wind drove particles of ash past the transparisteel in an unending current of reddish-grey. Lightning seared from one end of the sky to the other, and a bolt slammed into the top of the cliff behind the academy. The resulting clap of thunder made Quinlan wince.

He sat down in the co-pilot's chair and leaned back, staring glumly out at the unending lightning. Tech fidgeted with the wires for a bit, then set them aside and also leaned back.

The two of them had been sitting quietly for nearly ten minutes when the wind suddenly increased, whistling in the open door of the academy and gusting the ash so rapidly that it was nearly impossible to see through it. Through the sealed cockpit, the wind sounded more like a lonely human voice than wind. The shrill sound faded, then rose in a wail that lasted for half a minute before suddenly falling again. The ash resumed its slower rush past the transparisteel.

Quinlan folded his arms, repressing a shudder.

A moment later, Tech leaned his elbows on the control panel, resting his chin on both hands. He seemed to hesitate several times before finally saying, "This planet is strangely –"

"Depressing?"

". . . Yes." Tech glanced searchingly up at him, opened his mouth, then paused again before saying, "As far as I can tell, this storm is nothing more than a storm, but – it still feels –"

He trailed off, and Quinlan shifted carefully into a more comfortable position.

Tech tapped a finger against his mouth. "I suppose Wrecker would say it feels angry . . . But, of course, that is impossible."

Quinlan looked back outside at the shadowy fog of whirling ash. The wind rose again to a shrill, hollow screech, then cut off abruptly. The ash fell straight down, looking almost like dark snow for a few moments before it started to sweep across the landscape again. "I don't know, Tech," he said slowly. "It feels angry to me."

Tech pushed the loose wires onto the floor and started a series of scans. "A storm is an atmospheric disturbance," he said, his tone almost questioning.

"Yeah, but this is Malachor. This place is so dark – I don't know, Tech. Everything's been affected."

Tech didn't answer, instead leaning forward to study the readouts intently as though searching for something that might be able to explain his unease.

The uneven motion of the wind-driven ash was dizzying to watch, and eventually Quinlan turned his chair until he was facing Tech.

Tech had been right – the vertigo was disappearing, slowly but surely. At least the room no longer visibly spun around him. Still, it would be great if Vythia could hold off on beginning the next expedition for a bit.

"Maybe the storm's too strong to take off in," he said.

Tech took a good eight seconds to look up. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"Just thinking out loud. I was hoping the storm would be too strong to take off in, because we could all use a few extra hours."

"We could take off if we had to, but I, for one, would certainly rather not," Tech replied. He glanced down at his datapad again, then shut it off abruptly, looking dissatisfied.

"No answers, huh?" Quinlan asked.

"The storm does appear to be just a storm, if a violent one," Tech said again. "I cannot find any data that would explain this . . ." He gestured vaguely.

"Feeling of dread? Worry? Fear? All three?"

Tech pursed his lips. "Yes. It is not a rational response . . . especially given that there is nothing currently threatening our lives."

"Yeah . . ." Quinlan thought back to the many life-threatening situations he'd been in and felt no fear. This was definitely not the same. "Y'know, Tech, it wouldn't be the first time I've seen non-Force-sensitives affected by the dark side."

"But I did not feel anything when Vythia took the shard from the vault." Tech paused, as though considering. "Wrecker did not appear to either, and he was holding it."

"Maybe you didn't notice anything specific, maybe it's not immediately noticeable. But I'd be willing to bet that eventually the atmosphere of this place would get to you guys."

"Hm." Tech gathered the wires from the floor and went back to fiddling with them. "Then perhaps that would explain why this storm feels like an entity, rather than a natural phenomenon."

The Jedi nodded, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "It's the only explanation I've got. The Force resides in all lifeforms, and all that – no one's completely disconnected."

Tech looked curious. "Even clones?"

"Uh, yeah. You guys are alive, so . . ."

"Well, yes," said Tech, carefully observing a red wire. "At least, so the physiological data would seem to indicate."

Quinlan blinked at him for a moment, then slouched a little and wondered why it couldn't have been Obi-Wan to hold this conversation. Or Yoda. Yoda was always philosophizing backwards and giving people existential crises. "Yeah, well," he said. "You wouldn't be alive if you didn't have a soul – but you won't find any numbers or data or scans or whatever that could show that you do have one."

"I have read that the Jedi believe that all sentient beings have souls."

"All living beings have souls," he corrected.

"Even plants?"

Quinlan found himself wishing for a good shot of spotchka to go along with the weirdly random conversation. "Yeah. But they're a very low – uh – level? Of soul. They aren't aware."

"But animals are aware," said Tech thoughtfully. "Presumably, then, they would have a higher level."

"Right. But animals can't reason, or choose the same way, or even feel the same emotions as people . . ."

"Therefore, people have the highest level."

"Yeah."

Leaning forward, Tech rested his chin in one hand, and bounced his knee up and down. Half a minute later, he straightened a bit. "Hmm . . . Yes. If we accept all those as working hypotheses, then it would follow that we would have to have the same 'level' of souls as humans and other rational beings since we are, in fact, human."

Glad we cleared that up, thought Quinlan. What the heck brought that on, anyway?

"However –"

Oh, snap.

"– we were manufactured, not born. That is a not unremarkable difference."

"You think and feel and choose, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Exactly." Quinlan rubbed his forehead again. "On a related note, do you have any alcohol on board?"

"No," said Tech, raising an eyebrow. "Why? Do you want to make your vertigo worse?"

"The conversation's already doing that," he said grouchily.

Tech tilted his head from one side to the other. "I suppose you could wait to explain until you are feeling better."

"That would be the sensible thing to do. But I'm not sensible."

"Yes, so I had observed."

". . . Wow, thanks."

Tech didn't have the decency to look even slightly repentant. He met the Jedi general's look with one of complete innocence. Quinlan frowned.

A shrill scream from outside cut off their impromptu staring match, and Tech jerked around to glance out the viewport. "I don't see anything."

"I think that was a stormbeast."

Tech's fingers flew over the keyboard as he initiated another round of scans. "It certainly didn't sound like the wind. . . Hm. All sensors are negative."

"I guess it was just the wind, then," Quinlan told him, trying to ignore memories of the stories he'd heard about the Sith.

Tech sat back, and Quinlan felt himself dozing off again. The cockpit was quiet, except an occasional faint beeping and the quiet sound of breathing. The thunder still crashed and rumbled, but at least the wind had stopped sounding like a lost soul.

Quinlan's dreams were strange, even though he never truly fell asleep. He was aware of the passage of time; aware of Tech sitting motionless for a while, nearly falling asleep, and fumbling and dropping his datapad as a result; but, for the most part, Quinlan felt as though his consciousness was in a completely unfamiliar place, and that he was holding conversations with people whom he'd never met.

For one particularly strange moment, he thought all the commandos were in the cockpit with him, listening to a comm call from Vythia. None of them seemed to notice anything off, but Quinlan thought it was weird that he could see Vythia, even though she was in her ship.

"What do you think of Malachor?" she asked him, smiling curiously when he didn't answer. "Quinlan? What do you think of Malachor?"

I hate it, he thought, but couldn't say. I hate it, Vythia – why don't you?

The Nautolan woman shook her head once in amusement, as though she had heard him, and pitied him for his answer. After smiling down at the floor for a moment, she moved to join him, crossing the area between their ships without appearing to walk. Her hand landed on his shoulder, and Quinlan sat up abruptly, grabbing for it.

Tech avoided him with ease, jerking his hand out of the way. "I am going to wake Wrecker for his shift," he said, not commenting on Quinlan's agitation. "Do you want to move to the barracks, or stay here?"

Quinlan thought of the quiet, dark barracks and felt cold. "I think I'll stay here," he said, then automatically added an excuse. "I'll keep Wrecker company."

Tech nodded and turned away.

For some reason, Quinlan abruptly remembered their conversation. "Hey, Tech."

The commando looked back, questioning. Quinlan drummed his fingers on his chair for a moment, then said, "Even the Kaminoans can't manufacture souls."

It was nearly ten hundred hours before the wind died down. Hunter was standing in the cockpit with the others, watching the ash storm and waiting for a comm from Vythia, when the swirling grey cloud thinned suddenly, then – stopped.

A few wisps of what looked like smoke curled along the ground just in front of the ship, trailing behind the rest of the ash storm, which continued to travel off to the west. As the solid cloud moved farther away, they could still hear the wind, and see the lightning piercing it at intervals.

The ash storm traveled slowly off, turbulent inside and still on the outside – and behind it, sunlight filtered through the ever-present clouds. As it left their field of vision, the last hovering flakes of ash settled gently to the ground. Everything went silent and absolutely still.

Prickles ran up Hunter's spine and into his face, and he clenched one hand at his side.

"That was weird," Wrecker said, sounding a bit unnerved.

Crosshair and Tech glanced at each other while Quinlan frowned, arms folded.

The sergeant drew in a slow breath, then shifted. "When Vythia said, 'after the storm is over', I didn't think she meant it would be so fast."

"Technically, the storm is not over," Tech pointed out unnecessarily, just as their ship comm blinked.

Quinlan answered. "Vythia?"

"That was more sudden than I'd anticipated," she said. "Fortunately, our next objective lies in the opposite direction."

"We should leave before the stormbeasts come out," Crosshair said, gesturing to the doorway of the academy.

Hunter focused on the ground. Sure enough, the ash around the door vibrated, drifted upward, and settled again. "Yeah," he agreed. "Looks like they're screaming again."

"You and your team must keep them inside the academy," Vythia told him. "Presuming they even bother to come out. Meanwhile, I intend to recover the axe shard."

Hunter blinked and gave his head a quick shake. "Vythia – I probably blew that thing to bits last night."

"She already cut the call," Tech informed him. "We may want to meet her outside."

One by one, the commandos grabbed their helmets and weapons and headed to the door.

As Wrecker extended the boarding ramp, Quinlan said, "She'll probably be able to find a piece of it."

"It was literally on top of the explosives," Hunter told him, leading the way to the dead stormbeast. In the pale morning sun, it looked somehow smaller than it had the night before, though not by much.

Crosshair seemed to have the opposite impression. "You really wanted to make that thing chase you down," he said flatly.

"Yeah." Hunter jostled him with an elbow. "I didn't have another plan, and you know it."

Tech looked up. "I, for one, think it was a terrible plan."

"Only because you didn't get to play the bait!" Wrecker said. "You're just jealous."

Tech rolled his eyes and busied himself with examining the creature's wickedly curved claws. They were nearly as long as Tech was tall. Good thing I didn't really see those last night, Hunter thought wryly.

Quinlan paused near the stormbeast's head and held a hand out, then withdrew it. "If and when you guys are done quibbling, I could use a scanner over here."

"Certainly." Tech trotted over to join him. "What am I looking for?"

"I don't want to lower my shields much. You think your scanner can pick up pieces of the shard? Or will the other bits of explosives interfere?"

"It will all be shrapnel by now," Tech pointed out, but set to work initializing a scan anyway. "I hope you aren't intending to surgically remove each piece from this corpse."

"No. I just want to find a big enough piece to placate Vythia."

"Placate?" she asked, appearing suddenly beside Crosshair. The sniper almost didn't react, but his eyes widened slightly, and Hunter could tell he'd been as startled as Hunter himself had been. The Nautolan woman certainly could move silently when it suited her.

"Yeah," the Jedi said, unapologetic as ever. He gestured to Tech's datapad. "I don't really want to hang around this academy, and you won't leave without a piece of the axe, so . . ."

"Wait," said Tech, kneeling down and resting a hand on the side of the stormbeast's laser-blackened throat. "There is something here that does not appear to be shrapnel from a grenade."

Vythia drew her knife and moved over to him. "Show me where, Tech."

When he obeyed, Vythia stabbed her knife into the dead monster and used it to pry loose a credit-sized piece of gleaming metal.

The Jedi took a careful step back, eyebrows furrowed. Fortunately, he was out of Vythia's range of vision.

"Is that it?" Hunter asked needlessly.

Vythia turned around. The fingers that held the shard were covered in streaks of copper-colored blood, but she didn't seem to care. "It will suffice."

"How are you supposed to sell that?" Wrecker asked. "It doesn't look like anything."

"Not all of these artifacts will be sold," she replied, pulling a piece of cloth from one pocket. As she set to work polishing what remained of the shard, she said, "Hunter, I believe I owe you my thanks for your quick thinking last night – though I hope you won't find it necessary to destroy any more artifacts."

He shrugged. "I figured you'd prefer being alive to having the artifact."

She pocketed the shard and tossed her cloth onto the stormbeast, then cast him a quick smile. "I hardly think that needs answering. Shall we move on?"

"Where to next?"

"We are going to explore what remains of a small city," she said. "It is one of the few that may not have been raided, as it is hard to locate. We will have to fly through a tight, winding canyon to reach it – I trust your pilot's flying skills are up to the task."

Tech pulled his attention away from his datapad long enough to give her a thoroughly insulted look.

Hunter couldn't hold back a smirk. "If they aren't, we probably won't live long enough to worry about it. Lead the way, Vythia."

The Jedi and the four commandos, all of whom were crowded into the cockpit of the Havoc Marauder, were utterly silent as Tech guided the shuttle around an outcropping that completely cut off their view of the canyon.

Quinlan held the opinion that Tech and Vythia were flying much too fast.

In the co-piloting seat, Hunter rested his hands lightly on the controls, keeping a sharp eye on the readouts surrounding him. "Ninety degree turn to starboard ahead," he told Tech as the canyon opened up before them, revealing a nearly square turn in the long-dried riverbed.

"I repeat my earlier question," said Tech, cutting speed and banking hard. "Why couldn't we have entered this canyon at a later point?"

"Because Vythia isn't exactly sure where the city is," Quinlan said. "Thus why we're all up here, making it hard for you to concentrate on flying."

Tech's gaze flitted constantly from the canyon walls pressing in on them to the ground, only a few meters below. "I fail to see how the two things relate."

Hunter raised an eyebrow, never moving his gaze from the schematics. "Quinlan and the other two are supposed to be looking for any sign of the city."

"I'm looking!" said Wrecker defensively. "Nothin' so far . . ."

Ahead of them, Vythia's smaller ship pulled up sharply to avoid what appeared to be a pile of collapsed stone.

"Long-range sensors indicate a cave system ten miles out," Hunter said. "Is this an underground city?"

When Tech leaned over to observe the readouts, the sergeant hastily turned his attention to piloting, and Quinlan smirked.

"Hm." Tech keyed in a new scan. "It appears that it is a cave system –" The scanner beeped, and he tilted his head. "More accurately, it appears that it used to be a cave system, though it is now open to the sky."

He returned to piloting. Vythia's shuttle dipped beneath a narrow overhang of stone, and Tech followed closely, mirroring her every movement.

A slow eight miles passed before Vythia commed to tell them that they were approaching an open cave system. "This might well be where the city is located."

"Got it," said Hunter, then flipped off the comm. "And if this isn't the right location, at least we'll be able to see farther than ten meters."

"You're telling me!" Wrecker replied. "Who wants to build a city in a river bed, anyway?"

"The people who lived here, presumably," said Tech.

A few minutes later, the two shuttles emerged into a vast area enclosed by high stone walls which curved inward from their bases, towering over the comparatively low buildings that made up the city. Some of the buildings had been completely destroyed by rubble – the roof of the caves had fallen in on the very center of the city.

The Havoc Marauder and the Phoenix hovered low over the dead city, searchlights roving across the flat-topped buildings and silent streets. Quinlan studied it silently, noticing that everything in the city seemed to be built from the same dull grey stone.

Wrecker leaned past him and frowned. "It looks like it's made out of shadows."

"Yeah . . ." Hunter set the shuttle down in a rubble-free area just north of the city. "Not exactly a place I'd have chosen to visit. What are we even supposed to be looking for here?"

"No idea," said Crosshair.

Tech spun in his chair to check one of his scans. "I am not picking up any lifeforms, partial or otherwise. It appears that the stormbeasts do not inhabit this area, at least."

"Good," said Hunter. As he headed for the door, he paused and glanced back, one eyebrow raised. "But stormbeasts or not – Quinlan, you're going to need a weapon."

"I still have my extendable blade and my pistol," Quinlan said.

Hunter gave a slight, flickering glance at the extendable knife, and Quinlan rolled his eyes. "It's not a high-quality vibroblade, but it's a perfectly fine knife. Believe me, I've used worse."

Both Crosshair and Hunter scoffed at that, and the Jedi smirked at their clear disdain.

"Yeah?" Crosshair asked, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "What was it made of, wood?"

"You guys are such snobs," Quinlan pointed out. "I've also got my lightsaber in my pack. Worst case scenario? I'll just grab Hunter's."

"Fine." Hunter hit the controls and led the way out of the ship.

As the ramp retracted behind them, the gloomy bleakness of the destroyed city seemed to close in. Vythia's shuttle had just landed, and the quiet hum of its engines sounded absurdly loud in the dead stillness.

"Have I mentioned I hate this planet?" Quinlan asked, of nobody in particular.

"Yup!" Wrecker replied. "At least half a dozen times."

"Well – it bears repeating. Ugh . . . Tech?"

Tech rolled his eyes and typed into his datapad. "Marking Malachor down to a negative thirteen."

"Negative fourteen," said Wrecker. "Look at that – we could'a just flown in through the top of the cave instead of flying through that canyon."

As everyone stared accusingly at the vast hole in the roof of the cave, Vythia approached them. Quinlan was relieved to note that she did not have the shard with her.

"Negative fourteen," acknowledged Tech, then clipped his datapad to his belt.

Vythia approached a fallen structure that appeared to have been a city gate at some point in the distant past. Now, it was just a pile of stones with carved glyphs along what had been the lintel.

"What does that say?" Tech asked, following her.

Vythia ran her fingers along the markings, brushing away accumulated dust. "These glyphs spell the word 'Lothal'. I believe that is this city's name."

"Lothal," repeated Hunter. "And you don't know anything about this place?"

"Nothing. But I'm sure we shall make some discoveries as we explore it."

"Yeah," Quinlan added. "And let's hope they're all boring discoveries."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

"Well, we're ready to move," Hunter told her.

"Excellent." Vythia stood and brushed her hands free of dust against her skirt. "Shall we begin?"