Crosshair switched his rifle from one hand to the other as he wandered across the room. The team was in the central room of the ninth level down, now, and it was nearly identical to the other central rooms they'd entered. In that regard, Trayus was almost as bad as Kamino.

Glancing at the dark, ash-coated walls, Crosshair smirked a little at the thought of how the Kaminoans would react to such a place. Even the most placid among them would have widened eyes and turned-down mouths when they saw the amount of dust.

With the exception of Tech, Crosshair's teammates were gathered near a sealed door, arguing over whether or not they should attempt to open it. Quinlan thought it probably wasn't worth their time, since he felt no artifacts nearby, while Vythia thought it was just as well to check. When Quinlan shrugged, Vythia turned to Wrecker and asked how they should open the door.

While they talked, Hunter stood between them, pretending to pay attention; in reality, though, he was distracted by the storm going on not far above them – Crosshair could tell because of the frequent, quick looks the sergeant kept sending at the ceiling. Quinlan stood next to Wrecker and stared at the sealed door as though he were trying to see straight through it. Maybe he was.

Holding his rifle across one arm, Crosshair wandered over to join Tech, who was seated cross-legged on the floor near the glowing pillar and frowning at his datapad. Out of the corner of his eye, the sniper watched Vythia as she rested her chin in one hand and directed a question to the Jedi, who only shrugged. After glancing briefly at the main doors, Crosshair glanced at the youngest squad member. "Tech."

"Hm?"

"Anything nearby?"

"Not at the moment."

Crosshair slung the rifle over his pack and went back to watching Vythia, who was leaning forward to observe as Wrecker placed detonator tape on the door. After a few moments, he said, "Hey, Tech, what time is it?"

Tech never looked away from his screen. "Your chronometer is a mere glance away."

"So is yours," he retorted, just to continue the conversation.

"True, but I am currently occupied. You are not."

Crosshair sighed and checked the time. Nineteen-forty-five precisely.

On the opposite side of the room, Wrecker took out a breach charge, set it, and stepped back. The muted explosion was followed by a loud thud as the door swung open and slammed against the adjacent wall. Another brief discussion followed. Quinlan looked inside the room and gestured as though to say it was safe. Hunter stared up at the ceiling again.

Fidgeting with his knife, Crosshair said, "What about that storm?"

Vythia went into the room, with Wrecker behind her. Quinlan slumped against the wall, clearly bored. Hunter folded his arms momentarily, then took off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair before shooting a look at Crosshair and Tech, as if checking that they were still there.

Since Tech hadn't bothered to answer yet and Crosshair was feeling idle, he glanced down and nudged him with one boot.

Tech shifted away absently. "The storm is much too strong for us to even attempt to take off in. Unless we attempt to reach the Phoenix, which would be quite dangerous, we will have to remain here for the night. Of course, that also has an advantage."

Crosshair couldn't think of what advantage Tech could possibly be talking about, so he took off his helmet and reached for a toothpick. "Advantage? You mean the fact that we'll be sleeping on the stone floor in our armor? We haven't done that in a couple weeks . . ."

"Do not be ridiculous." Tech finally glanced up at him, lifting a critical eyebrow. "How could that possibly be an advantage?"

Crosshair chewed thoughtfully on his toothpick and pretended to think the question over. "Well . . ."

"Never mind." Getting to his feet, Tech dusted himself off before flicking open his vambrace screen. "I merely meant that if we stay here tonight, then tomorrow morning we will not have to climb down ten or more levels in order to resume our search."

"Hmm." Crosshair smirked and shot him a pointed look. "Why, Techie? Your short little legs getting tired from all those stairs?"

Without looking away from his work, Tech kicked him in the shin – to absolutely no effect on Crosshair. The clack of armor against armor caught Hunter's and Quinlan's attention, though; Hunter looked questioning, and the Jedi, surprisingly, gave them a faint grin.

Quinlan had been utterly silent for a full hour after leaving Darth Nihilus' crypt, but then he'd seemed to recover a little. At least, he stopped staring into space, and he responded when spoken to without looking startled. Crosshair pulled the now-flattened toothpick out of his mouth and considered it. If that kind of thing kept up or got worse, the Jedi might become more of a liability than a help . . . especially if it got to the point where he couldn't sense danger at all – or, worse, was unable to respond when something happened.

Hunter's ability to sense electromagnetic frequencies had been something the squad had grown so used to that, by the time they'd left Kamino, they'd depended almost completely on that ability in order to get through their drills – especially those where Tech was not allowed to use his skills with electronics. But in situations where Hunter's ability was all but useless, such as the middle of a crowded city, the sergeant was still more than capable of acting, and reacting, as situations arose. Most of the time, anyway.

With a final glance at his toothpick, Crosshair flicked it at the glowing pillar. It vanished into the white flames, then bounced off and landed on the floor with a tiny click. Curious, the sniper leaned closer, then put a hand through the flame until he could feel the flat stone of the pillar. The stone was cold even through his glove. Stepping back, Crosshair stared. This place made no sense.

He was still frowning at the pillar when Wrecker and Vythia came out of the room, their arms filled with various gold and jeweled items. Vythia was laughing at something Wrecker had just said, and he was grinning outright.

As Hunter and Quinlan joined the Nautolan woman, Crosshair narrowed his eyes at Wrecker. "Fraternizing with the enemy," he muttered, well aware that Wrecker couldn't possibly have heard him and – more to the point – wouldn't have cared if he had.

"We do not know for certain that she is an enemy," Tech argued reflexively. Then he paused and looked across the room, quirking his mouth to one side. "Though on second thought . . . Hm. Well. Either way, I do not think that engaging in conversation with her qualifies as 'fraternizing', technically speaking."

Crosshair rolled his eyes and started towards the others.

Tech kept pace with him. "Certainly, it would not be fraternizing on her part, as she has no idea that we are on opposite sides. As far as we are concerned –"

"Tech?" Crosshair said, raising his voice a bit to speak over him.

"Yes?"

"Just forget it."

Tech stopped speaking, his line of thought broken, but then looked up, eyes glinting mischievously. "If you insist, though I usually attempt not to forget things."

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Crosshair picked up his pace. Tech followed on his heels with a quiet snicker.

The others looked up as they neared them, and Vythia held up a long, thin golden chain studded with jewels. "See – another valuable find."

Crosshair eyed it judgmentally.

"If one is only interested in money, at any rate." Vythia tossed the necklace carelessly into a small bag, which she then closed. Hoisting it between her fingers with an effort, she glanced at her satchel, then at Wrecker. "Would you mind adding this one to your pack?"

"Yeah, no problem!" Wrecker tossed it easily into his pack before sealing it. "That's everything, right?"

"It is." Vythia tapped a finger against the satchel that hung at her right side, then glanced at the small chronometer she wore. "Hm. It is not quite nineteen hundred yet, but we should stop soon for the night. Shall we stay here, move downstairs, or go back to the top?"

Hunter hesitated and glanced at the ceiling. "Tech, what do you think?"

"The storm is too heavy," Tech said. "Even if we were to make it to the Phoenix, which is by no means a guarantee, we would be unable to safely take off. The wind speed is currently averaging two hundred kilometers per hour."

"Awesome. Not," sighed Quinlan. He hesitated, narrowing his eyes. "And you're sure about that, Tech?"

"I could hardly be mistaken." Tech held up his datapad. "The Marauder's sensors have mapped out the storm. At its current rate of movement, it will last for at least six more hours, possibly eight. Even if we assume that the sensors are only eighty percent accurate –"

"– it's still too dangerous," Hunter finished. "And there's no point in trying to make our way all the way down to the Marauder."

Vythia nodded. "I expected as much. We could explore one more level and then stop for the night."

"Works for us," Hunter replied with a glance at Crosshair. "Lead the way, Vythia."

She headed for the stairs and the others fell in behind her. Hunter hung back a little, until he and the Jedi were at the back of the line.

"Quinlan," Hunter muttered. "You said earlier that it wasn't anything particular, but you just didn't want to stay here at night."

"Yeah. I did say that."

The sergeant let out an exasperated huff. "I meant, is that still the case, or is there something . . . immediate . . . that's going to be a problem?"

"Not that I know of – so far, anyway. I'd let you know if there was. I just don't like the idea, I guess." His voice trailed off uncertainly. "It's this . . . uh."

"Feeling?" Hunter asked, sounding resigned.

Crosshair started down the stairs, keeping his eyes on Tech. Once again, the shorter commando was transferring his attention between his datapad and his vambrace-screen instead of watching where he was going.

Behind him, Quinlan cleared his throat. "Feeling. Yeah. You know what, Hunter, I'm getting really tired of saying that."

"I'll bet." Hunter sounded the slightest bit amused.

"Probably as tired as you are of hearing it."

"Yeah," Hunter said. "Well, you have been saying it a lot lately."

"Jerk. . ." Quinlan replied, almost peaceably.

Crosshair snorted.

Then, from the bottom of the stairway, Wrecker called, "Uhhhh – guys? This is different."

"Indeed," Vythia said, from farther away. "I believe we are in a prison level."

Tech halted a few steps above Wrecker and peered over his shoulder, trying to see into the center. "What makes you say that?"

When neither of them moved, Crosshair put a hand on the stair railing and vaulted over it into the center. As usual, the pillar burst into heatless flame, but that and the stone walls and floor were the only things about this central room that were the same as the others. Several dozen stone figures lined the perimeter, sitting or kneeling or half-lying or doubled over near the walls, their wrists chained to metal rings that were embedded into the stone every few meters.

"Oh," said Tech blankly.

". . . Kriff." Quinlan landed next to Crosshair and stared around, his expression darkening from surprise to horror as he took in each stone figure.

Crosshair tilted his head at the Jedi's reaction, then studied the prisoners more carefully. Judging by their expressions, they had all been suffering at the time of their death, though it wasn't clear as to how, or why. The black chains were cuffed around their wrists, and all of them had their arms raised slightly, but there were no injuries on any of them, not as far as he could see. Maybe it wasn't physical suffering, but fear from being imprisoned here, knowing the fate that awaited them . . . whatever that fate was.

"Why are they all here?" Wrecker asked quietly.

Letting out his breath, Quinlan approached the closest prisoner, a Togrutan woman on her knees. She was wrenching forward, arms stretched out behind her and to either side, and looked as though at any moment she would break free of her chains – they were pulled taut, and had been for centuries.

The Jedi hesitated, then brushed a hand against her upturned face and shut his eyes.

Tech wandered past Crosshair, then turned in a circle as though taking in the entire room. "This room is strange," he said. "It is not an ordinary prison – it seems a place to temporarily keep a large number of captives, but not –"

"You're right," said Quinlan, taking a step back from the statue. He stared down at the Togrutan's face and grimaced. "I guess the Scourge was unleashed at the right moment for these prisoners. She was on her way to be sacrificed."

"What for?" Vythia asked, joining the rest of the group.

"She didn't know." The Jedi went to the next person in line, a human man who had been watching the Togrutan with an exhausted gaze when he died, and touched his shoulder briefly. ". . . I don't – oh. This man was a prisoner of war. I think a lot of these people were. He seems to have known them."

Vythia cast a curious look at a Nautolan female, who was half-sitting, slumped against the wall in defeat a few prisoners down the line. "Sacrificed," she repeated. "I wonder what the Sith hoped to gain from that, so close to the end."

"Perhaps Darth Tanis' announcement came as a surprise to them," Tech said. "They may have anticipated having more time."

"Yes, that seems likely," said Vythia.

Hunter glanced at her. "That doesn't answer the question about what the Sith were going to use these people for, though."

"I expect the remaining alchemists hoped to obtain some unusual power from sacrificing them," she replied.

"Hm," said Tech. "There seem to have been a large number of alchemists in Trayus."

"There were many, yes." Turning away, Vythia started for the wide doorway at the eastern side of the room. "Darth Nihilus was one of the most famous, of course."

Of course, Crosshair thought sarcastically. "Seems like all of 'em were famous."

"Oh, no . . ." Vythia turned halfway to smirk at him before facing forward again. "For example, the names of those who made the stormbeasts are not remembered. They simply were not important enough."

"Huh," said Hunter. "You'd think they would be. Those stormbeasts lasted when nothing else did."

"That we know of," Vythia corrected, just when Crosshair was expecting Tech to say the same thing.

"Right. That we know of." Hunter stepped out into the hall beside her. "Which way, Quinlan?"

"Um . . . No idea."

"Then it hardly matters," Vythia said. "Pick whichever way you prefer."

Hunter looked from one side to the other, hesitating. Eventually, he shrugged and turned left, and the others followed.

"Darth Nihilus, on the other hand . . ." Vythia said, as though there had been no break in the conversation. "He made creatures that reflected his own abilities."

"Like what?" Wrecker asked, shoving open a narrow door to peer into another of the small rooms. "Turning into nothin'?"

"No; he drained people of life, and his creations did also. I believe Traya designed them, but Nihilus made most of them. They called the creatures leviathans – even the most powerful Sith feared them. Leviathans never obeyed any but one master. When Nihilus and Traya died, some of them died, some of them vanished – some came under the control of other Sith. There are records in my possession, written by a few of the Sith who were able to control the creatures. The leviathans were . . . they were incredible."

"Hope none of 'em are around," muttered Quinlan, pausing to light another lantern.

"As do I," Vythia said, seriously.

"What did they look like?" Tech inquired.

"They were immense, four-eyed, snakelike creatures that could drain the life from others at will. No one seems to know what creature they were twisted from, or what their limits were; Nihilus made them all with different abilities as his own grew, and Traya seems to have had more than one of her own."

"Why were these Sith so obsessed with twisting things?" Hunter asked, casting a look back towards the central room.

"I expect they wanted to test the limits of their own power." Vythia stopped as they neared a half-open door. "Is there anything present in this next room?"

"Not on sensors," Tech answered, and peeked into the room. "Ah – nothing but a statue. Wait! Hunter –"

Hunter stepped forward quickly. "What is it?"

"Do not go inside!" Tech warned, putting out a hand.

All six of them stood, just inside the wide doorway, as Hunter turned on his flashlight and pointed it at the wall. Facing them from across the room was a black, four-armed statue with flat golden eyes, clinging tightly to a featureless prisoner that hung heavily in its grip.

Oh, perfect. Another one. Crosshair watched it uneasily, noting again how the eyes seemed to always be focused on him no matter where he stood.

"Hey," said Wrecker, confused. "That's the same kind we saw in Lothal!"

"Yeah. . ." Hunter backed away. "Let's not search that room."

"It must be guarding something," Vythia mused, though she also moved back.

"I doubt it," Crosshair told her. "Unless it's in a hidden room or compartment. That place was empty."

"No, you are right." She helped Wrecker close the door. "But I cannot imagine why else it would be there."

"Maybe to hold prisoners," Crosshair suggested. "You said this was a prison level."

"That was clearly not a person it held," Tech argued as they set off again. "Perhaps the tall statues were meant to guard against attempted escape. I expect that if someone was sent into that room knowing that, should they move, the thrown statue would kill them – well, I cannot imagine many of them would have tried to leave."

Wrecker shuddered audibly.

When they reached another divide in the hallway, Hunter stopped abruptly, lifting a hand. Everyone else froze where they were, holding their breaths as they listened, dividing their attention among the three hallways.

The sergeant looked from one side to the other, then took a tentative step forward and paused again. Crosshair couldn't hear anything, but when Hunter's fingers hovered over his knife, the sniper drew his pistol.

From behind them, a low, hollow clink sounded. Hunter jerked around to face it, and Wrecker stood back-to-back with him, while Tech and Quinlan – who had his knife drawn in a reverse-grip – shifted to the left. Another clank sounded, followed by a metallic rattling that grew louder over several seconds.

"Chains," Crosshair said, moving to the right.

Vythia joined him silently. Her whip hissed into life, sputtering against the ground as it coiled near her feet like a golden serpent.

Clank . . . clank . . . clank. The sounds were drawing closer and closer to Crosshair and Vythia. For some reason, the others were all staring down the hallways they'd already been facing. It was almost like they thought the sounds were approaching them.

Before Crosshair could ask, Hunter sent a quick look at him, as though questioning why he was just standing there.

"It's comin' our way," warned Wrecker, readying his blaster.

"No, it's not." Quinlan had moved to stand at the entrance to the left-hand corridor by now. "It's in this corridor."

"It is?" Vythia shifted her weight, right arm drawn back slightly as she readied herself to strike. "But it sounds so close . . ."

"There is more than one?" Tech asked, hesitantly.

"I only hear one," Hunter said under his breath.

The rattling drew closer still, and soon Crosshair could make out another, quieter sound. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate footsteps. Something brushed his arm, and he glanced quickly to the side to see that Vythia was standing directly next to him, eyes wide as she stared unblinkingly into the darkness.

The source of the noise was just out of sight, now – just beyond the edge of shadow that the green lanterns hadn't penetrated yet. Two more steps, and whatever it was would reveal itself –

Crosshair leveled his pistol.

But as the sounds reached the edge of the light, they faded away. No one spoke, or moved, or even seemed to breathe. Fifteen seconds passed, and then the sounds began again – behind him, moving away. Crosshair spun, firing as he finished his turn, and Tech let out a yelp of surprise as the laser flashed a meter in front of his face. Nothing happened – the hallway was lit for the briefest instant by the laser, but no one was there. Now, everyone was turning in confusion, facing opposite the way they had before.

The footsteps slowly faded, until only the clinking of chains was left. Then that faded, too, and Hunter lowered his knife with a visible shudder.

"What was that?" Wrecker whispered.

Vythia licked her lips. "I do not know. I think – I think it was an illusion."

"But from everywhere?" Tech asked, his voice a little higher than usual. "We all appeared to hear it from a different direction. And it did not – we did not hear it when whatever made the sound would have been in the light."

"Illusions do not like the light," Vythia replied softly. She had not deactivated her whip, or moved from where she stood. "Crosshair – do you see anything?"

He stared into the shadows for a moment, then turned back to the corridor he'd heard the noises from. "No. Why?"

"I think . . ."

They all heard the next sound – a door, opening and then closing, from far down the hall they'd already gone through. This time, everyone turned towards the corridor that Crosshair and Vythia faced.

Nothing else followed, and there was no other sound for a full minute, but still nobody moved. Crosshair had to deliberately force his shooting arm to relax slightly, so as not to throw off his aim when he did fire – if a target would ever show itself –

To his left, Quinlan and Hunter both shifted at the same moment, as though about to turn around. Then, three sounds clashed together – a heavy footfall, a splintering crash, and a rasp of claws on armor.

Shards scraped and skittered against Crosshair's armor as he spun, hardly noticing the piercing pain above his left elbow. Hunter was sent reeling sideways into the wall, so hard that he rebounded and slammed to his knees. Crosshair fired twice at their attacker before even registering what it was. When he did, ice shot through his stomach.

A black, golden-eyed statue stood directly in the center of the corridor they'd come out of, blocking their way back to the central chamber with its four arms stretched upwards and out. Wrecker's lasers shattered into its robes without effect as the expressionless statue stared at everybody and nobody.

Quinlan and Tech were kneeling off to one side, the Jedi with his left arm outstretched in front of Tech, who had clapped a hand to the side of his neck. Both of them were staring up at the statue without moving. Even Crosshair hesitated before firing two more shots, one at each of the thing's golden eyes. Both shots struck dead center. Neither did any damage.

Taking a step back, the sniper holstered his pistol and reached for his knife. "Hunter, get up!" he snapped.

Hunter dragged himself dizzily to his feet and staggered, putting a hand to his head.

"Crosshair?" said Vythia quietly. "I think . . . I do not know if we can kill this."

"Well, we gotta try," Wrecker answered. "What do we do?"

"It might let us go," she answered. "It might not follow. . . Quinlan, Tech, move away."

Quinlan started to get up, and the statue swiveled to face him. He stopped, reaching over one shoulder for his pack. "Its head," he said. "Its head has something inside."

"Try to stab through its eyes," Vythia ordered, swinging her whip so that it sparked against the stones. "I will distract it. Wrecker, help Crosshair."

"You got it," Wrecker growled.

As he dodged left, Crosshair darted to the right. Vythia whirled the whip around her head and struck. The golden lash furled twice around the statue's neck and tightened as she jerked, taking up the slack, but the blade didn't cut through.

The statue didn't move, even when Wrecker approached from the left and Vythia flicked her wrist, letting the whip's lash curl again around the neck. Crosshair took two quick steps, jumped into Wrecker's latched hands, and sprang, twisting sideways to stab his knife straight at the thing's left eye.

The knife had barely touched the statue's eye when clawed fingers snapped around Crosshair's middle from both sides and brought him to an abrupt halt. He jerked and twisted, but the long fingers squeezed harder and harder until they started to pierce his armor.

Wrecker yanked at the hands to no avail as Crosshair pulled the knife free, then pierced the eye again, with a little more success than before. Still, the expression on the statue didn't change. One right hand struck Wrecker aside, a left hand snapped its fingers shut near Vythia's arm as she whirled away, and the second set of hands closed even tighter around Crosshair's waist. Four sharp fingertips punched through the right side of his cuirass, and the sniper twisted violently aside, wrenching his dagger free again.

A third hand closed around his entire forearm, immobilizing it. He struggled unsuccessfully to pull himself free, then reached across with his left hand to grab at the knife.

"Crosshair, hold still!" shouted Hunter.

He froze.

Thunk. Hunter's vibroblade appeared in the statue's right eye, buried all the way up to the hilt, and the statue swerved to face Hunter.

Just as Crosshair's fingers closed around his knife-hilt, the clawed hand holding his forearm jerked down sharply, and the knife fell.

"Don't move!" Vythia cried.

Crosshair obeyed, even though the fingers kept tightening. They were clenching around him more slowly now, as if they were having trouble moving, but they were still crushing his armor inward. Glancing down, Crosshair caught sight of Quinlan kneeling, one hand outstretched toward the statue's right hands.

Then Vythia stepped up beside him. Wrecker latched both arms around the statue's last free arm – its lower right – and clung on with all his strength as the sharp fingers snapped shut just shy of Vythia's arm.

Vythia stepped on Wrecker's bent knee and jumped, swinging onto the statue's lower arm. Moving deliberately, she climbed to kneel on its upper arm, jerked Hunter's vibroblade free of the right eye, and drove it through the hole Crosshair had made in the second eye.

Just as she pulled it out, the two right arms stiffened and sprang back to their normal positions. Wrecker stumbled back. Vythia fell and landed hard on the floor, dropping the vibroblade just in time to avoid impaling herself. Then the two left arms moved, finally releasing Crosshair, who crumpled with a sharp intake of breath as the damaged armor stabbed into his side.

He was getting to his hands and knees when he noticed Quinlan lowering his hand from where it had been pointed at the statue. The Jedi's gaze met his through his visor, and then they both looked up. The statue was back to how it had been before, except that the eyes were all but destroyed and something was – different. Crosshair didn't know what it was, but he was sure that the statue would never move again.

He shivered in reaction, finally registering that a statue had followed them from the room it had been inside. Sithspit, he thought vehemently. And we decided to stay here all night?

"Crosshair," said Vythia, putting a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was shaking ever so slightly. "I did not expect – are you all right?"

I almost got killed by a statue. . . He huffed, finding the thought amusing for some reason, and pushed himself stiffly into a kneeling position. "Yeah. You?"

"Physically, I am fine." She sat back on her heels with a shudder, the red crystal swinging from her headpiece at the motion. Her face took on a wry smile. "I admit, though, that it was – unexpected."

"I hope it was unexpected." He took a deep breath and grimaced, glancing down at the holes in his armor. Great, another patch job to do. He shot a quick look at the Jedi, wondering how fast the clawed hands would have cut through his armor – and his ribs – if Quinlan hadn't intervened.

"Whoa, Cross –" Wrecker picked him up by the arms and set him on his feet. "That thing got you good!"

"No, it didn't." Crosshair elbowed him sharply and stepped away, looking around for his knife. The floor was littered with black stone shards, some nearly as long as his knife, which he found a couple meters away. "It only got the armor."

"Yeah," said Hunter unsteadily from where he was wavering against the wall beside Tech. "Because armor bleeds. Come on, Cross."

Quinlan snorted, and Vythia laughed.

Crosshair stared down at his side, which did feel a little damp, now that he thought about it. ". . . Whatever," he said, pretending he'd already known. "We need to get out of this level before any more living statues find us."

"I think . . ." Quinlan hesitated. "I think we're all set, but yeah."

"You noticed it, Quinlan," Vythia said, handing Hunter his vibroblade. "Right before it reached us."

"It felt almost like your crystal." Quinlan gestured vaguely at the statue's head. "I almost thought you were behind me for a second."

Tech took Hunter's helmet from the sergeant and stood on his toes to get a closer look at the side of his head. "I suspect a crystal is what powers it," he said, his voice back to its usual calm, bland tone. "Though I do not understand how their – programming – works."

"Neither do I," Vythia mused. She kicked aside some of the shards and checked the hall that led back to the central room. "Alchemical constructs, as a rule, have only two or three reactions that they perform . . . automatically, so to speak. I never heard of any moving under their own volition."

"Well, apparently this one did," said Hunter, trying to pull away from Tech's poking and prodding. "Let's go back upstairs. At least we know the upper levels are clear. We'll make sure to have a couple of levels between this one and wherever we stop."

"Good idea," said Wrecker fervently. "That was weird . . ."

"One moment," Tech said, removing a small canister of bacta spray from his pack. "I want to –"

"Tech," said Hunter, pushing himself away from the wall.

"– take care of this first."

"We can deal with it later."

"Certainly." Tech sprayed the bacta over the injury, handed Hunter his helmet, and picked up his own with a professional nod. "Whenever you are ready, Hunter."

The sergeant didn't answer, except to jostle Tech with an elbow on the way by. The team headed back towards the central room, passing the doorway that had hidden the statue from view. It stood closed, as if the statue had shut the doors behind it when it left its small prison. It probably had. No one suggested that they open it this time – no one even spoke again until they'd ascended two flights of stairs and were nearing the top of the last.

"Do we stay in the center?" Quinlan asked, in a casual tone that probably didn't fool anyone. "Or do we look around and find a room to lock ourselves in for the night?"

Vythia brushed a hand along the banister and raised a dark eyebrow. "Earlier today I would have said the center would be perfectly sufficient. Now, I am not so sure."

"The center's got a lot of light, though," Wrecker said, glancing down at them as he stepped off the final stair behind Hunter. "Easier to see here than anywhere else, even without our lanterns."

"He's got a good point." Hunter leaned one hand against the wall. "Not only that, but we've got quick access to a way out, if need be."

The Jedi, who was pressing his left arm absently against his side, nodded. "Yeah. I didn't think of that."

Vythia looked carefully around the center, almost as though checking to see if anything odd had appeared in their absence. Crosshair watched her for a moment, then studied the room himself, in case she missed anything.

They congregated around the pillar and took off their packs. Despite the good lighting and the perfectly adequate temperature, Wrecker took out two heat lamps and activated them, setting them a few meters to either side of the pillar. The others opened their packs without talking and spread out blankets nearby. Meanwhile, Crosshair checked both main doors, standing in each for nearly half a minute to listen and watch for anything out of the ordinary. While he did that, Tech checked the Marauder's sensors as well as his datapad's, then pulled out his and Crosshair's med kits and opened them.

"Well, lads," said Hunter, glancing from the makeshift campsite to his squad mates. "Let's settle in for the night. I'll handle first watch."

"Very well," said Tech, pushing his goggles up the bridge of his nose. "But I have not yet ascertained whether or not you have further injuries."

Hunter set aside his helmet, gave him a patient look, and got to his feet. "All set, Tech."

Tech nodded after a moment's consideration. "Wrecker?"

"I'm good." Wrecker tossed Hunter a water bottle. "That thing didn't even get through my armor!"

"Hmm. Crosshair?"

Crosshair, who was busy removing his upper armor, shot him a glance, silently amused at how overbearing Tech was being.

The shorter commando frowned and narrowed his gaze, a silent promise to deal with him later, and said, "Quinlan?"

"Just a couple of scratches." Quinlan, who was prodding at something in his sleeve, glanced up. "Pass me the bacta spray, would you, Tech?"

Hunter, who was just starting for the door, looked over the Jedi's shoulder on his way past. "How about forceps first?"

Quinlan glanced back at him, muttered something uncomplimentary, pulled a thin shard of stone out of his arm with his fingers, and tossed it aside.

Vythia gave an amused smile and sat cross-legged on her blanket, setting her satchel aside. Brushing her skirt free of dust, she said, "Hunter is not wrong. Would you like help, Quinlan?"

"No, not particularly."

"Uh-huh." Wrecker sat down heavily next to the Jedi, who was attempting to roll up his sleeve with one hand. "Well, too bad."

"Uh –"

Wrecker grinned at him and caught his wrist. "Look, we all want some rest, and no one's gonna get it with you guys bickering. Now, gimme the med kit, okay?"

Quinlan winced, but relented – probably because Wrecker wasn't giving him another choice – and Crosshair smirked. The smirk faded as he looked down at the damage to his armor. The outside wasn't a real problem, but the inside . . .

"Tech. Will you be able to fix this?"

"Before tomorrow, with the tools I have on hand?"

"Yeah."

"I can try." Tech looked dubious.

"Never mind." Crosshair opened his pack and pulled out an emergency blanket. It was thin but sturdy – folded up, it would work fine as protection between the sharpened punctures and his blacks.

Without warning, his side stung fiercely. Crosshair jolted, then growled at Tech, who was squeezing more disinfectant onto an alcohol wipe. "Give me that."

"In a moment." Tech snatched it out of his reach, waited until he stopped trying to take it, and went back to work.

Crosshair decided to ignore him for now and went back to securing the emergency blanket inside his cuirass. When he was satisfied with his work, he set it aside, then reached casually for the disinfectant, which Tech had left near his knee. While Tech put small bacta patches over the puncture wounds – Crosshair could have done that himself just fine – the sniper squeezed disinfectant into one hand.

He sat motionless until Tech had finished. Then, moving calmly, he leaned forward, pushed Tech's head to one side, and smeared disinfectant over the long cut that ran across the left side of his neck.

Tech jumped, clapped a hand to the injury, and glared. "That was uncalled for!"

Crosshair glanced down at the small bacta patches, visible beneath the tears in his shirt, and decided it was safe to lie down. "No, it wasn't."

"Well – no, I suppose it wasn't." Tech moved to collect his med kit and replace it in his pack. "I had forgotten that the shard cut me. Nevertheless, it was . . ."

"Unqualified," Quinlan suggested, from where he was watching Wrecker put bacta patches on his arm.

"Not quite." Tech lay on his stomach and turned on his datapad.

"Unnecessary."

"Hmm –"

"Unwanted?"

"Definitely."

Silence fell while Wrecker finished treating the cuts and gashes that were scattered across Quinlan's left arm; and the silence lasted while everyone settled down, except for Hunter, who stayed leaning against the doorway that stood at the head of one of the stairways leading down.

Crosshair turned to face the other way, intending to keep his gaze on the opposite doorway. He probably couldn't sleep anyway. Everyone seemed nervous. Even he had been talking more than usual, and he was the last to get nervous. . . Usually.

A slow half-hour passed, but everyone was still awake, still tense. Tech was fidgeting with his datapad. Hunter kept sheathing and partially unsheathing his knife. Crosshair caught himself drumming his fingers against his pistol, which was lying on the ground, pointed at the pillar. Even Vythia, who had appeared to be lying peacefully on her back, was fiddling with the strap of her satchel.

Finally, Quinlan propped himself up on one elbow. "Hey, Tech. We haven't changed the rating since entering Trayus."

Tech huffed. "That may take a while to calculate."

"Nothing better to do," Wrecker said, lacing his fingers together behind his neck as he stared at the ceiling. "We can just be general about it. Uh, we could take off five for the statue."

"And five for the fact that we're stuck here," added Hunter.

"Oh, definitely." Vythia was also staring up at the ceiling. "And five for Nihilus."

"Six," argued Quinlan. "He was a notch above everything else in – yeah. And three for the other statues."

Hunter half-turned. "Do we count the storm again, or not?"

"I suppose we do." Tech sat up. "It is a different storm."

"Then let's take off two for that."

"That brings it down to negative fifty-one," mumbled Crosshair. He turned his attention back to the opposite main door, having to try now to keep his eyes open.

"Don't forget those – sounds," added Vythia.

There was a short pause.

"Negative fifty-six," suggested Hunter.

Nodding, Tech entered it into his datapad, then set to work typing something else. He was probably taking notes on various things that had happened that day.

The silence of the central chamber, which had been too heavy before, was now filled with the sound of Tech's typing. Under normal circumstances, Crosshair usually found the noise annoying, but now he felt himself starting to relax, and then to doze.

Blinking heavily, he shook his head, determined to keep an eye on the empty doorway opposite him.

Tap-tap-tap click tap-tap-tap-tap . . . click, tap-tap-tap . . .