Leaning his forearms against the back of the pilot's seat, Hunter watched the grey terrain speeding away beneath them. Every so often, something would catch his attention – a darker streak of ground, the shattered hull of a ship, an empty basin that most likely used to be a lake. For the most part, though, everything was unendingly grey and flat.

By now, they had left the rain behind them and were flying east, which meant that by the time they'd reached Trayus Academy, the sun would be behind them.

Just our luck, Hunter thought with a resigned sigh. It'll be dark when we get there.

In front of him, Tech adjusted the Havoc Marauder's velocity to match precisely with the Phoenix's.

"Hey, Tech," Wrecker said, slouching back in the co-pilot's seat. "Let me know when you need a break, okay?"

"That will not be for some time," Tech said. "Why do you ask?"

"No need for two of us to stay here." Wrecker stretched. "This is gonna be a long flight, and we've got no piloting to do."

Tech tilted his head towards him. "Then what, precisely, is it that I am doing?"

"Holding the ship on course."

Apparently, Tech couldn't or wouldn't argue with that one, because he only sniffed and went back to glancing between Vythia's shuttle and the Marauder's surroundings.

Wrecker rotated his seat one way, then the other, then spun all the way around and said, "Hey, Hunter. I just thought of something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We don't know anything at all about Trayus Academy."

"We might," said Tech. "I asked Vythia where the stormbeasts originated. She said that Trayus Academy was the most likely place."

Wrecker looked disappointed. "Well – yeah, but that's not very helpful. We already know how to deal with those guys. I meant about other stuff, that we haven't run into yet."

"What makes you think we will run into anything?" Tech asked.

"Well . . ." Wrecker paused, then shrugged. "We didn't think we'd run into anything at all on the planet at first, but then we did. And Quinlan said Trayus is the – darkest – area of Malachor, so . . . I dunno, it just makes sense."

"True," Tech allowed.

"Yeah." Hunter snorted at a sudden memory and turned to Wrecker, leaving one elbow braced against the back of Tech's chair. "I asked Quinlan about Trayus, too. He said he doesn't know anything about it, but that if there isn't something dangerous there, he'll eat one of Crosshair's toothpicks. Guess he figures it's a pretty sure bet there'll be something dangerous there."

"Heh – yeah, no kidding." Wrecker hopped to his feet. "Guess I'll go get ready, then."

"How exactly are you going to do that?" Hunter asked, gesturing to Wrecker's armor.

"I'm gonna pack explosives," Wrecker told him, heading for the door. "We almost didn't have enough with that huge stormbeast. And even if we don't run into any, sounds like this academy could use a lot of destroying!"

He went out with a laugh. Hunter thought about sighing, just out of habit, but reconsidered when he realized that blowing up the temple in Lothal would have been very satisfying indeed. And they hadn't really used many explosives on this mission – just at Dverik's place and on the mammoth stormbeast.

He took the co-pilot's seat. "So, Tech," he said. "Anything of interest on scans?"

Tech glanced briefly at his readouts. "No. In fact, so far there has been nothing of interest anywhere in this region, unless you count shipwrecks and piles of rubble as interesting. Based on the lack of ruins here and the general topography, I would estimate that this was a desert long before Darth Tanis activated his weapon and caused the Scourge."

"Yeah, the Scourge . . ." Hunter folded his arms. "Nice name."

Several kilometers passed in silence. Tech made a tiny adjustment to one of the sensors. Hunter tapped his fingers against the consol, then got out the team datapad and started skimming through the collection of articles Tech had marked over the past few days.

When he came across one on traditional and ceremonial Sith blades, he opened it and read through it. There was nothing about daggers specifically – in fact, the article referred exclusively to swords.

The Massassi Ceremonial Blade, also referred to as the Massassi Sword, is a shatterproof blade used in ancient Sith rituals. This sword, traditionally made from cortosis, has a meter-long blade. The Sith used these ceremonial blades for scarcely two centuries before moving on to more advanced alchemized weaponry.*

After the Massassi Swords fell out of use among the Sith, they were of interest only to Echani duelists; while this may be partially due to the warlike culture of the Echani, it is most likely due to the fact that it was Echani weaponsmiths who first perfected the method of binding cortosis to blades. Every Massassi Sword currently known to be in existence is in the possession of Echani nobles.

At the very end of the article was a quote in small text. * These words were the only words legible on the sixth of the Korriban scrolls: "A Sith sword is enhanced by submerging it in a trough of blood spilled in anger. Grinding its edge with Svolten rhyolite will ensure it never dulls.' ~ Unknown Sith Lord."

Hunter read through the quote twice more before turning to Tech. "I'm . . . guessing this quote about submerging a sword in blood is what the author's talking about when he mentions alchemized weapons?"

"The asterisks indicate as much," said Tech with a tilt of one eyebrow. "I do not know if that quote is true, though. How could blood spilled in anger possibly be different from blood spilled . . . well, in any other way?"

Hunter rubbed his cheek and looked back at the article. "I don't know, but the Sith must have had a reason for thinking that their swords could be enhanced with its use . . ."

"Hm."

"Tech, you really think that dagger in Vythia's ship is a ceremonial blade?"

"Of some form or another, yes. Ceremonial blades vary greatly in their purpose and appearance. Often, they are given from one person to another in payment or acknowledgment of some accomplishment. In others, they are blades that are worn as part of a uniform, but never used. And, in some cultures –" Tech tilted his head. "– they are used to ritualistically kill animals or people."

Hunter let out a huff. "Yeah. And the Sith blades in particular? Anything specific on them?"

"I . . . do not know." Tech shifted and cast him a glance. "The article you just read has to do with blades used mostly for dueling or combat, but given the note about alchemy, and presuming it is true, there may have been other purposes behind the creation of even those specific blades. Ceremonial executions were very likely one of these purposes."

Hunter set aside the datapad with a huff. "It's a good thing there aren't any Sith left who are eagerly continuing the tradition."

"Not that we know of," Tech qualified. "This Sith Lord whom Quinlan has referred to may very well have a fascination with ritual killings."

"Yeah . . ." Hunter glanced at him. "I meant here, on Malachor, Tech."

"Ah." Tech went back to watching the landscape. After a few seconds, he shifted and said, "Well. There may not be any Sith on this planet, but I still do not like the idea of going into Trayus without more information."

"Neither do I." Hunter leaned his elbows on the consol and stared out at the grey landscape. "Doesn't look like we've got a choice, though, does it?"

"No, it does not." Tech turned to the datapad as though about to reach for it, then quirked his mouth and kept both hands on the steering yoke.

Hunter eyed him. "I know you haven't been able to find out anything specific, but that's not surprising, Tech. I guess the information about this place has been pretty much lost – or suppressed."

"I am aware."

"Okay. So what is it you're worried about?"

Tech shot him a look. "If the Sith really did alter the stormbeasts at Trayus, it would not be farfetched to assume that there will have been other creatures as well that were alchemically altered. They may still be present."

Hunter nodded. "We'll keep our eyes open and go in slow, whether Vythia's in a hurry or not. Tech . . . if you're worried about other creatures, that means you do think that alchemy's possible, despite the lack of evidence?"

Tech bit his lip thoughtfully. "The existence of the stormbeasts and the fact that they are still, somehow, alive despite the apparent lack of food and water . . . it does provide some evidence."

Footsteps sounded in the hall outside as someone – Quinlan, Hunter recognized by the tread – walked from the cargo hold toward the galley.

Tech went on talking, but to himself rather than to Hunter. "I do not know what precisely was involved in Sith alchemy, but –"

"Good." Quinlan's voice drifted in from the hall.

Tech glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows lifted.

Hunter regarded the open cockpit door for a moment, but the Jedi did not make an appearance. A moment later, Hunter heard the barracks door open and close, and he leaned an elbow on the consol, gazing thoughtfully out at a huge, drifting cloud of ash in the distance that appeared to be standing on its own.

Tech had been increasingly agitated since the statue room in the Lothal Temple, and right now was probably the only chance that Hunter would have today to speak with him privately. If there was something bothering him, it meant there was something he hadn't figured out yet. And while that might not be an issue in general, Tech did have a history of failing to report things that everyone else thought was relevant because he did not think they were relevant.

Fortunately, Tech had never been able to maintain silence for very long when someone sat and watched him. Rotating his chair to face Tech, Hunter rested his forearms on his knees, hands loosely clasped as he waited.

Tech immediately shot him a sideways look, then proceeded to ignore him.

But Hunter had always been able to outlast Tech. This would probably take about a minute or so.

One minute and four seconds later, Tech shifted, pointedly did not look at him, and then spoke. "Yes, Hunter? Did you need something?"

Hunter smirked, but quickly regained his neutral expression. "When are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"

". . . I am not sure what you are talking about."

"Oh, yes you are."

Silence fell. The two shuttles reached the drifting cloud of ash and swept into it, one after the other. Thousands of specks of ash showered against the viewport in a stream of grey and brown, the tiny, indistinguishable clicks of each flake of ash audible through the transparisteel as a dull buzz. When the shuttles were once again flying clear, Hunter glanced again at his squad mate.

Tech had his mouth set stubbornly, so Hunter decided to be a bit more specific. "Tech, come on. What's been bothering you?"

"I . . ." Tech shot him a sideways look, then relented. "It is merely the statue."

"You mean Lord Lothal?"

"Yes. I have not been able to come up with any explanation for the fact that the eyes did glow. I am sure that I did not imagine it."

"I'd be surprised if you had," Hunter said. "But we've seen some weird stuff with these Sith – not least, the people of an entire planet being turned into stone. Why is this in particular bothering you so much?"

Tech shrugged. "Because I feel as though there is a different explanation, and I cannot discover it. And then of course there is Vythia – I keep wondering what it is she was attempting to do last night."

Hunter cast an instinctive glance at the comm, which was not transmitting. "We're going to have to be very careful about her," he said. "She knows something we don't. I've known that for a while. But what, and what – or who – about?"

"Most likely Quinlan. She could have no possible interest in us . . . Though we were hired surprisingly easily, all things considered." His voice trailed off. "And so was Quinlan, based on what he has told me. But why?"

"Easily?" Hunter leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"According to Quinlan, he walked into the Prince's warehouse, spoke to Vythia, and was hired on the spot. Of course, that was most likely because of his psychometric abilities, but it is odd nevertheless."

"Yeah; Vythia said as much about the psychometric abilities . . . Psychometry's pretty rare. I meant us. Why do you say we were hired easily?"

"The Prince – or rather, Vythia – had been hiring in the bounty hunter circles for at least six days before we were hired," Tech said. "There must have been multiple applications and interviews, and she did hire some of them, but not for this job. Not until we conveniently arrived. She could not possibly have performed background checks on any of us. There is nothing for her to work with. She did not demand our full names or even our home planet. By the time we arrived, Vythia had already hired Bane, Embo, Dengar, and perhaps others of whom we are not aware. Why didn't she use any of them for the Malachor mission? They all had reputations as skilled bounty hunters. We did not."

Hunter mulled that over for a few moments. "When you put it that way, it does sound odd . . . I never really thought about it at the time. I figured Quinlan knew what he was doing."

"Yes. And, granted, it appears that people who hire bounty hunters have many different methods of doing so," Tech replied. "Some hire them only if they have a huge amount of information about them, others hire without even knowing their prospective employees' names."

"Right. . . but if that's the case, then why do you think something was off about how fast Vythia hired us?"

"Mostly because Quinlan said something wasn't quite right."

"Well – we can't exactly ask her why she hired us instead of the other guys, but –" A thought occurred to Hunter, and he smirked again. "There might actually be a very simple explanation. Maybe we just came cheaper."

Tech snorted. "There is no doubt about that. I have also surmised that she hired us because the four of us were already a team, whereas with the others she may have had to constantly mediate. Bounty hunters often have long-running feuds with each other."

Hunter nodded. "You know what, I'll bet that's it. She wants to focus on what she's here for, not on bounty hunters who are constantly trying to one-up each other and steal each other's bounties. That, with the cheaper fees – and the fact that we have no reputation . . ."

"Hm." Tech frowned again. "No reputation – that would make sense. It is true that she would lose nothing if we were killed here. If Cad Bane died here, though, and that became known, she would instantly gain a reputation for running extremely dangerous missions. No one would work for her."

Near-silent footsteps sounded in the hall just before Crosshair sidled into the room. His eyes flitted from one to the other; then he held out both hands to reveal a ration bar in each and drawled, "Anyone care for some lunch?"

Hunter took one with a nod of thanks.

"No, thank you," said Tech without looking back.

Crosshair glanced at Hunter and raised an eyebrow. Hunter took the second ration bar and set it directly in front of the steering yoke, so that Tech was forced to catch it or let it fall to the floor. He caught it automatically, then shot Hunter a dark look when he realized what he had been tricked into.

While he had Tech's attention, Hunter ordered, "Eat. Crosshair's gonna take over piloting for a bit."

"Just what I came in to do," affirmed the sniper in a less-than-convincing tone.

Tech, wearing an injured expression, unwrapped the ration bar and got out of the pilot's seat. Crosshair slid in and took over without a hitch.

Hunter swallowed a bite and prodded Crosshair's shin with one foot. "What've you guys been up to?"

"Wrecker packed up a bunch of explosives. Quinlan went through some lightsaber forms and didn't destroy the walls." He paused. "I played cards."

"Ha!" called Wrecker from the cargo bay. "Y'mean you tried to build a house of cards!"

Crosshair twitched ever so slightly, and Hunter hid his grin behind another bite.

"Did it work?" Tech asked, curiosity winning over the aggrieved silence he had been attempting to maintain.

"It – was working," Crosshair admitted. "The first five cards, anyway."

With a whoosh of movement, Quinlan breezed into the room and rested a casual arm across the back of the pilot's seat. "You'll get better at it. Like all valuable life skills, it just takes practice."

"Some of us have better things to do," muttered Crosshair, twisting the chair to throw Quinlan's arm off.

"Yeah?" Quinlan kept his arm stubbornly in place. "Didn't look like it just now."

Crosshair tilted the ship ten degrees to starboard and pulled the nose up so that Quinlan was forced to step back to keep his balance.

Wrecker entered the cockpit, keeping his own balance with the ease of long practice, just as Tech crumpled the ration bar wrapper and said, "Quinlan, how is building a card house a valuable life skill?"

Quinlan opened his mouth in thought, paused, then brightened. "Okay. So, hypothetically, say you only have a deck of cards and are locked in a jail cell overnight or something . . . for hours. And hours. And hours."

"Quinlan," said Hunter, leaning back in his chair. "Why do I feel like you've had personal experience with that?"

"What?" Quinlan's eyes shifted to one side. "Why would a Jedi ever be in prison?"

All four of the commandos turned to regard him with open suspicion. Then Crosshair scoffed and went back to piloting.

"I mean it," Quinlan insisted weakly. "Why . . . Uh . . . Y'know, sometimes people get imprisoned by accident."

"That's true!" Wrecker agreed with a grin. "Like me, that time the regs thought I started the fight!"

"Yeah, exactly." Now with an ally, the Jedi shot Hunter a triumphant look. "Stuff happens, the wrong people get accused. . ."

"So you did spend at least one night in prison," Hunter concluded.

"Yep." The Jedi turned on his heel to lean backwards against the pilot chair, resting both elbows on top and blithely ignoring Crosshair's irritated huff. "Why would I ever actually break the law?"

Tech raised a finger. "I believe the relevant question in this case is 'why would I allow myself to get caught breaking the law'."

"I don't know, why would you?"

Tech eyed him, and Quinlan grinned.

"So what was it?" Crosshair asked snidely, apparently giving up on making Quinlan leave him alone. "Drunk piloting or smashing in windows?"

"Umm . . ." The Jedi ran a hand back through his hair and stepped away from the pilot's seat. "Actually, I kind of got arrested for stealing one of the Guard's speeders."

"Whoa!" Wrecker laughed. "How'd you manage that?"

"What?" Hunter asked. "One of the Coruscant Guard's speeders?"

"Yes. It – ah – may have turned out to be Commander Fox's."

There was a brief and silent pause. Hunter did not dare look at Wrecker – he did not intend to burst out laughing at the Jedi general, even though the mental image of Fox arresting a Jedi who had stolen his prized speeder –

Hunter laughed. "Okay. I'm with Wrecker. How'd you manage that?"

"I would also like to know." Tech sounded mildly impressed. "I did not think that was possible. Was it on the spur of the moment, or –?"

Crosshair shot Quinlan a look, then shook his head. "Premeditated."

"It was a prank," Quinlan protested. "One I would warn you guys against trying. Fox does not know how to take a joke. Of course, in his defense, he had no idea who'd just swiped it. I jumped on behind him right after he pulled onto the landing platform. Shoved him off. Took off. He had me trapped within a minute."

"Aw, he must have been mad," said Wrecker gleefully. "Was he, Quinlan?"

"Yeah, and stop sounding so happy. He told me he'd have to keep me in jail overnight because he couldn't swear to the fact that I was Jedi Shadow Quinlan Vos, even though I'd just spent a week and a half working a case with me."

Hunter grinned at his insulted tone.

"And then, after I finally 'convinced' him that I was – myself – he announced that somehow I'd broken three traffic laws while trying to evade him."

"I'll bet you did," muttered Crosshair with a smirk.

"Anyway," said Quinlan over him. "He had all the surveillance camera evidence, of course. So . . . Yeah. Spent a night in jail, built card houses –"

" – and probably pestered every guard in hearing," finished Hunter for him. He got to his feet and stretched. "Or tried to bribe them. Or Fox."

"Of course I tried to bribe Fox." Quinlan shrugged. "What's the point of keeping a tin of fresh caf in your pack if you aren't gonna use it to bribe righteously angry commanders with?"

Hunter eyed him thoughtfully. Crosshair tilted his head to look over one shoulder, and Tech glanced from Wrecker to Quinlan.

"What did I say?" Quinlan asked. "Apart from admitting that I resort to bribery, I mean . . ."

"You said you kept fresh caf in your pack," said Wrecker honestly. "They all like it, except for me. Remember, I said we weren't really supposed to have it?"

"Oh, I remember." Quinlan grinned. "Sorry, guys, you're out of luck. I didn't actually pack a new tin this mission."

"Speaking of the mission," Hunter interjected quickly, and cleared his throat. "How long until we reach Trayus?"

It was only fourteen hundred hours, Galactic Standard Time, when the shuttles drew close to Trayus Academy, but the sun had already set. Quinlan stood between Hunter and Crosshair, who were positioned behind the pilot's and co-pilot's seats, respectively, as Tech skillfully guided the Havoc Marauder between a series of towering pillars of black rock.

The academy was not in sight yet, but its presence and deep, relentless darkness tugged at Quinlan's shields from directly to the north. If he'd had to, he could have guided Tech there with his eyes closed. Reaching one hand into his tunic, Quinlan fingered the pale gold kyber crystal he'd kept with him since discovering it. It was a wellspring of Light Side energy – strong Light Side energy, at that – and he hoped that keeping it with him would help in his efforts to constantly repel the Force-energy of this place away from his mind and soul. It didn't seem to make a difference whether he touched it or not, at least not right now, so he slid it back into his tunic pocket and leaned forward to study the landscape around them.

Almost immediately, a flicker of shimmering green caught his eye. He pointed. "How much you want to bet that's dioxis?"

Hunter studied it. "Yeah, it's dioxis, all right. Look at this place – it's a natural gas mine."

As they got closer to the rocky ground, large splits and vents in the terrain became visible. They were numerous, and deep, and above every single one of them hovered a poison-green cloud of phosphorescent mist.

"Good thing we've got helmets," said Wrecker in awe as they flew through yet another cloud. "We couldn't breathe out there without 'em!"

"Not in the immediate vicinity, no," said Tech, who was flying with one hand and checking his scanners with the other. "However, as we travel closer to the academy, the vents get fewer and farther between. It appears that there was a massive seismic disturbance some forty kilometers to the east, which wrenched the planet surface open. But something seems to have protected the academy itself from the effects."

Ahead of them, Vythia's shuttle glided smoothly between two immense columns of rock. Tech followed easily into the sharp turn, then leveled the shuttle out. All five of the cockpit's occupants looked up at the same time, then straightened.

Trayus Academy loomed before them, still a couple of kilometers away. Quinlan had never seen a single building the size of this one. Even the Jedi Temple, built to house ten thousand Jedi, was not this immense. Trayus Academy was built as a four-sided pyramid with a flat top. Surrounding it were five identical black pillars, wide at the base and narrowing to points at the top, which towered over the building. They swooped up and inward, ending in what appeared to be a crown around the flat roof of the building. The tips of the black towers did not touch, but drew the viewer's eye to the center of the roof – or drew the viewer's attention there, rather, because the roof itself wouldn't be in sight until they flew higher.

"Whoa!" Wrecker breathed. "It's – huge!"

"It's bigger than a city," Hunter said, sounding awed. "It's . . . Lothal could easily fit inside it!"

"You are correct." Tech spoke with his usual tone, but his wide eyes were flickering back and forth, taking in every detail. "It will take us hours simply to walk through it."

Quinlan swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth. "Yeah . . ."

"Is something wrong?" Crosshair muttered. "Apart from the obvious, I mean?"

"Yes, something's wrong." Quinlan stared at the yawning, open entrance in the center of the front wall. "This . . ."

He trailed off, letting his gaze wander to either side of the entrance. Two of the five pillars were situated at either corner of the front of the academy. The single pillar behind the academy rose up in the exact center, and the other two were a little to the sides and away from the building walls. Quinlan noticed vaguely that they were equidistant to one another.

"This . . . what?" Hunter asked.

Quinlan jerked his attention back to his companions. "What?"

"You said something was wrong."

"I was thinking about walking through that place. Tech's right. It'll take hours, and I just . . . It's so dark, Hunter! How is it none of you can feel how dark this place is?"