Chapter Seven: Who Overcomes by Force

"These humans are flimsy, shortsighted, short-lived, and unfortunately bland to the palate, but they have one talent: They breed like vermin. I recommend a cull before the population gets too big to manage."

Ontagga the Bounteous, shortly before his assassination

537 LE

When Reina and Vaatus entered the cockpit together, Kroller couldn't believe his eyes. He'd been sure there were no survivors in this asteroid belt and had halfway given up his son for dead. Now both his children were in front of him, harried but very much alive. It was proof there were miracles after all.

Then he saw the creature drift in after them and remembered even miracles had a price.

Before the others could speak a word, the daritha's Special Plenipotentiary said, "Captain, I'm in your debt again."

Kroller, still in his pilot's chair, looked to Vaatus. "Son, I'm pleased as hells to see you, but I need an explanation."

Oziaf cleared his throat. "There's less than you think. I stopped by the Dirha base to receive an important package, which your 'son' handed off to me. Minutes later, we were attacked by a Hutt batil. The base was gouged out of existence and my ship was hit and left for dead. Your 'son' happened to fall aboard as I tried to flee. We've been floating dead in space for almost three days and were nearly out of oxygen."

Kroller glanced at Vaatus. The Nikto gave a weary nod.

"Unfortunately," Oziaf went on, "I was due for a rendezvous twenty-one hours ago. It's vitally important that I make that meeting. Therefore, I'm demanding the use of your ship."

Kroller stared at the little creature: one meter of gray-brown fur in a dirtied vest floating in the center of his cockpit. He looked to Reina, then to Vaatus; they were as stunned as he was.

"Listen, I know who you are, who you work for," Kroller said. "That doesn't give you the right to just… commandeer my ship. Yeah, I'm human, but I'm a free man, not Xim's puppet. We're a long way from the Empire and you've got no power over us, not here, not like this."

Oziaf looked unphased. "Bold statements, but you will take me where I need to go."

Kroller began to reconsider. Tempting as it was to flush Oziaf out an airlock—or just lock him in a cabin—he knew he'd never get away with crossing someone so important. The Empire would find out somehow, and then he'd get the wrath of Xim on him, worse than ever.

But Reina snapped, "Listen, we didn't come here for you. We—"

"You came here to deliver eighty febrillium warheads to Vaatus's associates, the Morgukai," Oziaf said curtly. "Who do you think recommended the Gravity Scorned for the job?"

He blinked. "You… recognize us?"

"If someone saves my life, I try to remember them. This is your second time, and just as unexpected as the first. I said I was in your debt and meant it, but you'll have to wait for payment. I absolutely must get to the Sionia system as soon as possible."

"Sionia is deeper inside the Supremacy," said Vaatus.

"Correct." Oziaf patted a pocket in his vest. "The gift from Morguk will let us reach its nav beacon and identify ourselves to my contact. You will be remunerated handsomely once we return to the Empire. You'll receive double the agreed payment if you head for Sionia immediately."

"What about the warheads?" asked Vaatus. "Morguk needs them."

"I appreciate your ardor for the cause, but that will have to wait. As I've said repeatedly, we've no time to spare."

Kroller was starting to think they had no choice. He could see Vaatus's expression relax as he, too, gave in to the creature's impeccable reasoning.

But Reina pulled herself close to Oziaf and said, "Tell us what's at Sionia."

"Those are vital Imperial secrets. I couldn't possibly—"

"Tell us," she said. Dangerously calm. Kroller knew she'd been rattled bad. Even finding Vaatus couldn't settle the grief and rage that been roiling inside her ever since losing Sohren.

Oziaf knew better than to brush her off. "If my opposite party is still there—and I'd like to use your comm system to confirm that—then I will be meeting a t'landa Til hierophant aligned with the Hestilic host."

"A what?" asked Kroller.

"A high priest for the Hutts," Vaatus said. "As high as you can get without being a worm yourself."

They all stared at Oziaf. Reina ventured, "Peace talks?"

"Alas, no," Oziaf sighed. "However, I've been laboring years to make contacts inside the Supremacy hierarchy. Months went into planning this specific meeting. I must see it through."

The cagier the rat got, the less Kroller liked it. What had seemed reasonable a minute ago sounded like a stroll into a deathtrap. "The emperor's left hand goes deep into worm space to meet a Hutt priest. Sounds like they're luring you in. I'm not risking my ship for that."

"Yes, you are."

"Why?" snapped Reina.

Another deep sigh. "I am performing… an investigation. Into the real cause of this war."

They stared again. Kroller said, "We all know the cause. Two big greedy empires, some planets with lots of kiirium between 'em. Doesn't take a genius to figure out how that ends."

"You don't know!" Oziaf snapped, suddenly shrill. "We were close. I was close. After the Federation war, the Mutiny, the Empire was on the brink. We met with the Hutts, laid out borders, drafted a treaty. We almost stopped this war before it started. And then…"

"The worms burned half of Tialvai to ash," Kroller grunted. He could still remember the shock and anger when that spread around the news-nets. His personal reaction had been a resigned here we go again.

"The Hutts have their own story," Vaatus said. "They claim we shot down one of their ships over Lelrais. It killed Ontagga, the head of the Hestilic host."

"Both are correct," Oziaf looked at them grimly. "Best we can tell, the events happened near-simultaneously, yet each claimed to be in revenge for the other. Xim was furious. He recalled the Iron Lance—the penteconter from Lelrais—and brought in its captain for questioning. When the Lance docked at Chandaar, he was found dead in his cabin. Hanged with his own belt, specifically."

Kroller was starting to regret prying. "What does this have to do with Sionia?"

"My aim is to learn the Hutt side of the story." Oziaf looked between them, challenging. "Is that enough for you?"

Reina was still adamant and angry. "The war's been burning for four years and gets hotter every day. You think it matters how it all started?"

"I do," said Oziaf, very serious.

"Great. Fine. But I've got a question for you." Reina pulled herself within arm's reach; Kroller thought she might swipe at the rat. Instead she snarled, "Who destroyed Santossa Station?"

"Reina—" Kroller started, but Vaatus held up a hand for silence.

His daughter stared at the Oziaf and Oziaf stared at her. Very quietly, the rat said, "I believe the author of this war, and Santossa's destruction, are one in the same."

Nobody expected that. Reina's anger went slack. She worked her jaw before she managed to ask, "Who?"

"I won't say anything until I'm sure."

Her face tightened again. "You're lying."

"I wish I were."

"You're stringing us along—"

"I am not." Oziaf's little voice was hard as steel.

Trembling, Reina touched the ceiling and pushed away, like she was putting cautious distance between them.

Kroller took a deep breath. All his life he'd tried to stay low, keep out of trouble, fend for his family and nobody else. This was getting involved in the worst possible way.

And, like the other time he'd gotten too involved, twelve years back, there didn't seem to be much of a choice.

"Triple pay," he said shakily. "We're getting triple for that."

"I agreed double."

"Well, now it's triple."

"Fine. Xim is good for it." Oziaf reached into his vest and drew out a simple data card. "Now if you'll allow me access to your nav and comm systems, I can get us to Sionia."

"You're not using my console unless I watch your every move," warned Reina.

"Fair enough. Now please, can we get going?"

His children looked at him. Kroller nodded, and Oziaf slapped tail against the rear bulkhead to send himself toward Reina's station. He told himself that, in hacking out that triple pay, he'd just won a victory. He wished it felt like one.

-{}-

Sometimes Talyak envied the Tionese for their thousand-strand network of hyperspace pathways, all clearly marked by the steady light of navigation beacons. Traversing the galaxy in a Jedi ship offered more freedom, but also more danger. Each leap past lightspeed was a jump into the unknown, guided only by the Force.

When Ashar had offered to come along, Talyak had pushed back, insisting the younger Jedi had much to do at Moralan. But his heart hadn't been in it; he welcomed company on this lonely and dangerous trip, and Ashar was a good man to have at his side. The human had matured since Talyak had plucked him from that Tepasi alley, but he was still bright and young. With Ashar alongside, empty space felt a little less empty.

Another advantage to having a comrade: Ashar could both speak and read Tionese and thus shouldered the unenviable burden of going through the material Xim had provided on the Endregaad ark.

"Half of this is scientific analysis I can't understand," Ashar explained, "but I'll muddle through the rest the best I can."

And he did. Between their fourth and fifth jump, he came to Talyak with an interesting discovery.

"Xim's people were thorough," he said. "They went into every cryo tube and tallied every corpse. Three-hundred and fifty-two humans, it says. Sixty-four Talids. On it goes. But what's really interesting is that they found fourteen empty tubes."

"Perhaps they were never used," Talyak offered, though it was odd. Colony ships typically packed to capacity. "Or, the crew might have been awake when the ark was attacked."

"You could be right. But Xim's people didn't find stray bodies anywhere in the ship."

They looked at each other, contemplating possibilities. Talyak asked, "Was there any indication the ark launched an escape pod? A secondary shuttle?"

"No record of that anywhere. Of course, the computer logs aren't complete. There's no intact record of how many people were aboard when it took off either."

"But we know it was boarded by unknown parties."

"According to shipboard chrono that was approximately seventy-two years ago, but this ark was traveling at near-light speeds before it was intercepted. Accounting for time dilation, Xim's people calculate it was boarded around five-hundred and fifty standard years ago." Ashar shrugged. "That doesn't help us pin down a culprit. The Hutts were around then but so were the Rakata."

It seemed possible that whoever boarded the ship took the waking crew alive, then killed the rest. This begged the question: Why?

Ashar had a question of his own. "This ark… do we know if it had Jedi aboard?"

"It was never certain," Talyak sighed. "Probably, it was filled with those who could not use the Force. The ark we chased was one of the oldest to have launched from Tython. The archivists estimated, perhaps, nine thousand years ago."

"Talk about a long shot. I'm amazed you found it at all."

"The Force meant for us to find it," Talyak said seriously.

Ashar wasn't sure if he believed that. But he'd come anyway, and Talyak was touched. Most of his life had been solitary and he'd preferred it that way; it was only since leaving Tython that he'd learned the value of others.

"I'm glad I never had to investigate that thing." the human suppressed a shudder. "A giant mausoleum, streaking through space for hundreds of years. All those corpses, preserved in their cryo tubes… I'd have run screaming."

"You are braver than that," Talyak said.

But the human shook his head. "I'm not that kind of brave. I'm daring. Reckless, sometimes. But I don't like staring at death when I can't do anything about it."

"I never went aboard myself. Erakas and Essan were the ones to explore."

"I don't suppose the Force gave them any hints as to what happened?"

"We were all… quickly distracted."

"I've heard. I'm hoping this mission is a little less eventful."

But it was all the same mission, with a long interruption between beginning and end. He refrained from telling Ashar that, for the human's peace of mind.

Their next jump was a short, Force-guided skip. After just a few minutes in hyperspace, the Dawnchaser was pulled from lightspeed by the tug of a nearby planet. As they decelerated and skirted along the world's outer orbit, Talyak began running sensor checks while Ashar compared the data they'd gotten from Xim.

There was no life on this world. No heat or energy emissions. Very thin atmosphere, mostly carbon dioxide mixed with nitrogen and oxygen. A single moon, totally barren.

Then a surprise: As they rounded the planet's ecliptic, the Dawnchaser spotted a single navigation buoy in orbit. It was active, broadcasting the lifeless world's location and likely transmitting information on passing ships to the Hutts. Which meant they shouldn't stay long.

"Is this world on Imperial charts?" Talyak asked, lower hands tight on the control yoke.

"I don't think so," Ashar shook his head. "We're not that deep in yet. The Imperials have beacons marked nearby, but not here." He glanced out the viewport. "I can't imagine why it's here. There's obviously nobody home. Maybe it's a stepping-stone to someplace else…"

"Perhaps." Talyak checked his scanners and saw something else. He nudged the Dawnchaser closer to the planet and tilted their nose so they could look on its russet face.

"Do you see that?" asked Ashar.

"I do."

Against the planet's mottled surface, the circle of the impact crater was clear. When Talyak looked closer he noted two more craters as well. Sensors reeled in new reports: trace metals of artificial origin, the grid-work remnants of cities.

"You heard what the Hutts tried at Moralan, right?" Ashar asked shakily.

"Yes."

"This doesn't look recent though, does it?"

"Let us see."

The Dawnchaser dove, trembling a little in the planet's thin atmosphere. When they reached an altitude of just a few kilo-meters, they began scanning the ruined cities again. Telephoto imaging played out on the cockpit screens, showing collapsed buildings nearly devoured by sand.

"This happened hundreds of years ago," Ashar surmised. "Who do you think lived here before the Hutts smashed it?"

"I do not know."

"How many people do you think died?"

"I don't know," he repeated.

Ashar scowled. "Do you… feel anything in the Force?"

Talyak closed his eyes, breathed deep, reached out. "No," he said. It was as bleak as empty space.

"Me neither. Do you want to take a closer look? I'm nervous about that beacon up top."

"As am I. I'd rather not linger."

"Any idea where to go after this?"

"No. We'll go to deep space before we find our next path."

Talyak tipped the yoke back, fired engines, and propelled them away from the planet. As they rose, he asked, "Can you detect a signal from the beacon?"

Ashar leaned close to his screens. "Nothing on any frequency the Empire's decrypted. But that thing's powered on. It's probably 'casting on a secret channel."

Which meant this world was a secret as well, but a secret for whom? This place planet help no revelations, just uncomfortable questions.

As soon as they breached the gravity well of that dead and nameless world, Talyak propelled them into hyperspace, deeper into mystery.

-{}-

Shen knew some Jedi were uncomfortable when they first arrived on the Star Forge, but to him its awesome, ancient power was a path to the future.

If only the future could be a little more cooperative.

"The only thing stable in the past weeks' readings is that they're unstable," said Melia Fearey, a stout Ranroon engineer who'd been laboring on the Forge for over a decade. In some ways she knew it even better than the Jedi.

Kayn's gray brow wrinkled. "Do you have a guess why?"

They'd gathered in one of the Forge's main engineering centers along with Gedor. The Prophet stood slightly outside their circle and kept looking around. He seemed more interest-ed in the scenery than Fearey's report.

"The Forge inducted a lot of raw stellar materials," the engineer explained. "You could almost say we have a miniature star locked in the core. Lots of hydrogen and helium, plus increasing levels of nucelosynthesized heavy elements. The only reason it hasn't eaten the Forge from the inside-out is because of core's insulated with an alloy we've never been able to analyze properly." Fearey shrugged helplessly. "Those Tyrants were quite the engineers, I'll give them that."

"For the moment," said Shen, "that is not the point. You say the core has not settled at all?"

"Stabilization is extremely negligible." She clacked her tongue. "Of course, this may be normal. When we found the Forge it had been drifting unused for a good five hundred years. The core was plenty cooled then, and halfway empty."

"We may have to wait," Kayn said. "Months. Even years."

Shen shook his head. "My people's lifespans are no longer than humans'. In the past we were conquerors and conquerors are not patient."

"You're welcome to put yours heads together on this," Fearey gave the Jedi a helpless look. "My engineers are stuck. But if anyone can get this working again, I'm sure it's you lot."

From the side Gedor croaked, "Together, our heads will go. Thank you, chief. Great work have you done."

The woman flushed and gave the Prophet a little bow. "We're all trying to do our parts."

"And well you do them." He shifted eyes to the Jedi. "A private place is there, for us to talk?"

"I know of one," Shen said, and Gedor gestured for him to lead.

He took them to his favorite place on the Star Forge. He knew Master Kayn preferred the north pole observation deck, where transparisteel panes gave view to endless stars, but Shen preferred a spot in the heart of the machine. It was, in fact, just a few hundred meters above the core's outer shell. Inside this octagonal, high-topped room you could feel the energy churning beneath.

As soon as he entered, however, he found it was not as he'd remembered. When the core had been mostly drained, the room had been merely warm. Now dry heat emanated from the mysterious alloy and drifted up through grated floor. The Rakata's skin, meant for wetter air, tightened.

"I see what they meant by unstable," Kayn muttered.

"I am sorry," Shen said. "We should find another place."

"Unpleasant, is this?" Gedor said. "Comfortable, I find it."

"We should go to the observation dome," Kayn offered.

But Gedor said, "For a little while, let us sit. A reason Shen must have in liking this place."

"I can feel the Force here better than anywhere else," he explained.

"A good reason, that is. Come, let us and consider."

To their surprise, Gedor walked to the center of the chamber and sat down cross-legged on the grate. Shen was afraid his brown robes would ignite, but he looked perfectly comfortable. The Jedi were not; when Shen held his palm a few inches above the grate he could tell it was too hot to touch. They were reduced to squatting in awkward stances around Gedor in his contemplative pose.

"Hmmm… yes…." the Prophet said as he closed his eyes. "Immense power there is here..."

Shen had spent hours basking in the core's emanations, but now he felt overwhelmed by the forces churning below.

"Calm it we must," Gedor told them.

"How?" Shen hissed. "This is… raw, untamed energy..."

"As is the Force. Like the Force we must command it."

Shen felt the Kayn tentatively link minds and join Gedor as he reached for the roiling energies of the core. The Jedi hesitated, like they were about to shove both hands into a fire, but Gedor did not.

In that moment Shen felt a will harder than steel. The small, unassuming Prophet tapped into a well of immense Force power, and with it resisted the destructive potency of the core's stellar heart.

He spoke to them without words now. Take it we must. Mold it, sculpt it, remake it as we desire.

Kayn grunted, "I don't know what it should be..."

But Shen followed Gedor's example as best he could. His own powers were so meager in comparison; he was younger, less schooled, still uncertain of himself and his purpose. Nonethe-less, he reached into the stellar fire and did not shrink from it.

Kayn did. The power was too much for the Zabrak. He tried at first but withdrew his mind lest he be scalded. Gedor and Shen remained. With mental hands, the Rakata cupped the stellar essence, contained it and held it to a shape. And with his immense Force power, Gedor blew upon it, cooled it, purged its most destructive heat and solidified it on a molecular level.

Shen knew he couldn't tame starfire on his own. Gedor's power was far, far beyond his. But he did his best. The other Jedi couldn't handle the Star Forge's elemental energy, but Shen could. His affinity with the Forge was imbued within his self, his history, his very genes.

His people had made the Star Forge for evil. The Force had blessed him so he could remake it for good.

If he clung to that belief, Shen could endure anything.

Time ceased to exist as he and Gedor calmed the Forge's violent heart. And with uncounted time, their efforts succeeded. Shen had no scientific instruments, no way to quantify it, but he felt it surely in the Force. The core cooled, calmed, and found the stability it should have had.

At the end that he opened his eyes and was shocked to find himself floating on air. Gedor, too, levitated, while Kayn remained on his haunches, boots on the hot grate.

Gedor opened his eyes. He met Shen's stare and gave a satisfied smile. Well done, he said.

Slowly and purposely, they both lowered themselves to the grate. When his feet touched down and he slipped from the Force's embrace, Shen nearly fainted. He realized how hot his body was, how dry this skin had become.

Kayn steadied his shoulders and said, "We should get out of here. You both need water and rest."

Despite his exhaustion, Shen was awed. "That was… that was incredible."

"Possible all things are with the Force," Gedor repeated his maxim. Not coy, not proud, just matter-of-fact.

"I'd never really believed…"

His mother had read of the Force but not known it. Master Talyak had wanted to believe, but doubted. It was only Gedor, his final teacher, who'd shown him what he was truly capable of.

Now, for perhaps the first time, Shen could believe in his own destiny.

-{}-

When an emergency comm-blare shattered his sleep, Jaminere knew exactly what was happening. The Hutts had been humiliated twice at Moralan; they'd been sure to come again.

When he got to the Ascendant's command deck, buttoning his uniform as he did so, he saw the full scope of it. The complement of Hutt warships included three chelandions, five tarradas, and numerous smaller ships. That was enough to match Jaminere's fleet, but it was supplemented by a sight that made his stomach churn: two Thanium polyremes, five Cronese harpices, and a swam of hemioliae. They could only belong to Admiral Krenn and the Scorned.

The thought of the Mutiny—who'd survived, who hadn't—filled him with rage. He stalked over to the tactical screen and told Captain Qail, "All ships on full alert. Deploy battlebirds and hemioliae as fast as you can. Move Harridan and Phalanx back to the planet. All other ships, prepare to attack.

"Yes, Viceroy. The Moralans are requesting instructions."

The Moralans—allies, not subjects—normally did what they wanted and told Jaminere after the fact. If they were asking him what to do, it meant they were scared.

As they should be. "They're welcome to join. Tell them to concentrate on the chelandion in the right formation. What about the Iduxians?"

"They're holding with the Moralans. Several are still docked with the flagship."

"Comms, see if you can hail their leader."

While Comms got to work, Jaminere surveyed the screen. The Hutts and their traitorous allies were bearing toward the planet, but still a distance away. Were they trying to draw him out, leaving Moralan under-defended so they could jump in another attack force? The worms had been known to do that.

Jaminere could handle that, especially if the Iduxians worked a little of their magic. He'd only panic if another planet-killer asteroid showed up.

"Sir, we've got someone on the line," his comm officer reported.

"Give it to me." Jaminere walked to his station and picked up the handset. "This is the Viceroy."

A woman responded, "We're deploying now. We'll do our best to head off the attack. Do you have recommendations?"

Not quite taking orders, but close enough. "The Scorned ships have human crews. They may be easier to influence than the Hutts."

"Understood. We'll do what we can.

Damn these Iduxians, so unreliable, so unquantifiable. He said, "I'm sending a task force to engage the Scorned. A few of yours might turn the tide."

The Viceroy the Empire, begging for magicians' favors. He'd never get used to it. After a too-long pause the woman replied, "I'll send you four ships. Tell us where to form up."

Small favors, but with the worms bearing down, they needed all they could get.

-{}-

Vediah needed anything she could get from the Force right now. She'd just received a call from Jecca, telling her to take Peacekeeper plus three other ships and form up around the Stalwart, a mighty Imperial dreadnought. Stalwart's aim was to smash the cluster of Scorned ships hanging off the edge of the Hutt formation. And the Iduxians were to help.

They were about to use the Force to abet a lot of death. Vediah hated that, even if it was to defend five billion Moralans. What she hated even more was that she was the one in charge

Four Iduxians ships approached the Stalwart in a diamond formation, Vediah's at the head. The other three hosted one Jedi each, plus non-Jedi crew. In Peacekeeper itself, Vediah was behind Mar'shol's pilot's chair. Seated at the sensor station was another Jedi: Zephian, a Mirialan with almost twenty years on her, and who nonetheless looked at her as an authority.

She'd barely gotten used to being a Knight. Now the new-comers treated her like a Master. It made her stomach churn but she had to endure it, for Moralan's sake.

Vediah told Mar'shol, "Hold us behind the dreadnought. Keep guns ready and prepare to evade. We don't want to fight them directly."

"What about us?" asked Zephian, meaning the Jedi.

In reply, Vediah opened a comm line to all four ships. "This is Peacekeeper," she said. "All ships, hold back and avoid direct engagement. Keep suits sealed just in case. All Jedi… try to convince those Scorned to run."

Vediah took a deep breath, then picked her helmet off her lap, placed it on her head and sealed it tight. Through the glass she saw Zephian and the others do the same. Respiration rasped in the tight space; with effort she concentrated on the other Jedi, felt them leaning on her, depending on her. She squashed doubt and spread herself further, taking them with her.

They sensed the crew of the Stalwart and its support ships, hard and defiant. They'd be fighting fellow humans, not Hutts, but she found no hesitation. The Scorned had mutinied against Xim and sided with aliens against their own race. In most peoples' eyes they were worse than the worms themselves.

The Jedi reached even further and found the Scorned. They were more complicated, a stew of anger, bitterness, fear, spite toward the Imperials and also toward themselves. Most of all she felt a bleak resolve: These were men of war, shaped by Xim's conquests, who'd scorned Xim and been scorned by the Empire in turn. Now they fought against their old Emperor because fighting was all they knew how to do.

Their souls brimmed with Bogan, but Vediah felt sorry for them anyway.

"Stalwart's launching missiles," Mor'shal reported.

Vediah urged the Jedi to touch the Scorned and tear at the weakness in their hearts. Fill them with fear and doubt, slow their reaction times, encourage them to run and flee. Convince the warriors that war was not worth fighting. That there was other life worth living, far from here.

Missiles impacted and burst. Scorned souls—twisted hearts in conflict with themselves— disappeared by the dozens.

Battle was joined and killing continued.

-{}-

Humans supposedly had a saying: 'Third time's the charm.' Well, it was the third time the Hutts fought against upstart Moralan and this time, Boonta was sure they'd get it right.

The Numinous sat at the heart of the Supremacy battle group. Tarradas and batils bristled on either flank. They bore toward Moralan slowly. Boonta watched the Ascendant and waited to see how far he could draw Jaminere away from the planet.

Xim's viceroy was no fool. He was pushing some ships to intercept while holding others around Moralan. He was hedging his bets against a second Supremacy attack force. A wise precaution, but not necessary. Boonta had brought all his warships—a mix of Hestilic and Inijic—with him. He decided to hold back, dangle himself a little longer, and see if the viceroy took his bait.

At the same time he watched the others ships, calculating. The Moralans were joining the fight using the Supremacy ships they'd stolen. It took several minutes, but his crew was able to recognize a third model of craft. Those were the enigmatic Iduxians. Were they Rebel Angels, the Demon returned, or just bipeds with an extra trick?

Boonta didn't know, but it was time to find out.

He marked a cluster of Iduxians heading toward Admiral Krenn's forces. Boonta quickly squirmed to the comm station and hailed the Falchion. The face that appeared on-screen was narrow, with beady eyes and white fur around its slit-mouth. Boonta had a hard time telling humans apart, but he assumed it was Krenn.

"Admiral," he said, "you are under attack."

"I am aware." The human sounded surly.

"The Iduxians with the dreadnought are your highest priority."

"We will do what we can. That dreadnought is powerful."

"Iduxians are worth more. Shoot to cripple and capture if you can. If not, destroy."

Krenn nodded and closed the channel without farewell. Such poor manners. He should have stayed on the line a little longer; Boonta had more to tell him.

But the biped would figure things out for himself. As he squirmed back toward the main display, Boonta asked, "What is the time to arrival?"

"One-hundred and ten seconds," Evenza reported.

Boonta counted down in his head. When the clock neared zero, he called out, "Bring up visual on the approach vector!"

And so it was. On the bridge's largest viewscreen, blackness and stars appeared. Boonta's eyes glued to the screen and a dripping tongue lolled out his mouth.

Then it happened: the black void was filled, the battle's final stage set. The Numinous's screen swelled with not one plane-changa, but two.

-{}-

She'd known this was coming, deep down, but Jecca still wasn't prepared for it.

All the Jedi felt it when the asteroids furled into realspace. They didn't have to check their sensors. They just knew, because those lifeless chunks of rock and ice were pulsars of lethal dread. The Hutts didn't bother to protect them with escorts this time. They were simply hurling both asteroids, propelled by strapped-on ion drives, toward Moralan.

The Imperials had been spread thin. So had the Jedi. Worse, the Hutts had launched the rocks from an unexpected vector, halfway around the planet's ecliptic from the Supremacy fleet. Ranger's crew gave quick calculations: it would take Jecca's ship twelve minutes to intercept the closer of the asteroids. The bulk of the Empire's fleet was even further away. Estimated time to impact: thirty-two and thirty-five minutes, respectively.

She cursed inside her helmet. The Jedi could work miracles, but not like this. It was too much.

Kell Olander's voice scratched in her ear, a private channel. "Ranger, I'm nine minutes from the closer asteroid. If we take out its port-side thrusters we stand a better chance of knocking it off-course."

Somehow the man could keep a level head. Maybe it was because he didn't have the Force tolling doom in his brain.

"Do it," she said, because she had no better idea. "We'll join you."

Jecca immediately relayed the order to Elzie, and her pilot wrenched Ranger toward Moralan. Straight, hard acceleration pinned Jecca to her seat and squeezed air from her chest, but she reached out to her fellow Jedi, telling them all—even Vediah's people—to make for the asteroids.

She wished Ashar were here, not because he'd turn the tide, but because she needed his adamant optimism, his undying hope. They all needed it. As it was, she struggled to keep her despair from spilling into the meld.

She tried to play Ashar for them all. We've done this before. We can do it again, she urged. Everything's possible with the Force. We can save this world!

How she needed to believe it.

Voice tight, she asked, "Brexin, what's everyone else doing?"

"The Moralans are heading for the asteroids," her sensor officer reported, "but the Imperials are holding position."

Damn it, were they just giving up? Were they just going to abandon the people they'd sworn to protect? Yes, that was what they'd do. Xim's empire was nothing noble; the viceroy would weigh risk and reward and make his choice. A rational, almost understandable choice.

But not a Jedi choice.

The nearer asteroid swelled, almost filling the Ranger's small forward porthole. Jecca could spot the glow of its ion drives, blazing hard but vulnerable. She tapped her comm unit, opened to channel to all ships, and began telling them where to strike. Vediah's group was trying to disentangle itself from the Scorned but the rest would be enough to take out the engines. But what then? A second asteroid loomed, just minutes behind the first. There wasn't enough time to knock both away. There weren't enough Jedi. They were too few to matter.

Despair threatened to overflow. That was when Jecca felt it: one more mind, deft and unexpected, slipped into their weave.

-{}-

Koltatha understood what was happening the instant the Nemesis dropped out of hyperspace. The dromon entered on a vector well clear of the fighting. Nobody paid it any mind. The Iduxians and Moralans were scrambling desperately for the inbound asteroids. Hutts and Scorned pushed toward the planet and Imperials hung in place, a faltering barrier.

The Morgukai looked to Koltatha for guidance. He merely told them to hold, then joined his fellow Jedi in the Force.

Sitting on the Nemesis's deck with eyes closed, he felt them shatter one ion drive, then another, then two more. Within minutes the asteroid began to shift course, but not enough. It would still collide with Moralan. He urged Jecca to attack the other one next. She did; Iduxian ships darted toward the second target. An idea occurred and he tried to relay it to the others. They'd gently nudged one asteroid to the left; if they could take out the second one's engines, they might use the first to ram its partner and throw both off-course.

It was desperate, dangerous, might not even save Moralan if successful. But it was the best of their awful options.

Jecca commanded the other Iduxians to take out the second rock's engines. The Jedi set to their tasks. Some tried to nudge the first asteroid and Koltatha loaned what strength he could.

Sitting on the slave ship's deck, he purged anger, doubt, and all the tools of Bogan. He had every right to hate the Hutts for their intended crime, but he emptied himself even of that. He made himself into a pure vessel through which only Ashla might flow.

But (asked dark, niggling Bogan) would it be enough?

-{}-

Two. They simply couldn't hold against two.

The Iduxians were throwing themselves at the asteroids, sniping at engines, trying desperately to throw both off-course. It was a valiant effort; even Jaminere admired them for it. But he knew it was a lost cause. They were trying to defy the hard laws of physics to shift millions of tons of rock and ice, and they had less than fifteen minutes to do it. Not even the old magic could save them today.

Hardly any ships had left Moralan; hardly any ships could. Most of their fleet was with the Iduxians, chasing the asteroids. The toll would be total. One impact would doom the Moralans to slow death beneath endless skies of ash, but two might rupture the planet's very crust.

He pounded the tabletop in anger. Months of diplomacy and politics, thousands of human lives sacrificed, and where had it gotten them? Only here.

"Viceroy," the comm lieutenant said meekly, "The Moralan minister requests you."

What could they possible say to each other, minutes from apocalypse? Jaminere wrenched the handset off the table and held it to his ear. "This is the Ascendant."

"Viceroy, doing what you? Iduxians help!" cried Ahnki-sor.

"They'll succeed or not on their own, Minister."

"When asteroids hit, Hutts devour us! Make fleet evacuate!"

Not if, but when. And if Jaminere stayed to protect stragglers pulling off the planet post-impact (assuming there were any) he'd turn himself into easy prey for Boonta's warships, which were approaching like carrion-birds hungry for a fresh carcass.

"I'm sorry, Minister. I cannot do that."

Ahnki-sor, normally so polite, exploded. "You break promise, Viceroy! Xim failed! Never we forget!"

They wouldn't even survive. Jaminere swallowed. "I'm sorry, Minister. We've done all we can."

He slammed the handset down, hard enough to draw looks. He fixed eyes on Captain Qail, and said, "Give the order to all ships. We're falling back to Xo's Eye."

Her expression faltered. The young woman had heart enough to be broken by what they were doing, what had to be done. But she carried out her orders.

-{}-

Peacekeeper wrenched itself from one bitter battle and streaked toward something worse. Scorned ships hounded them, forcing Mar'shol and the other pilots into wrenching evasive maneuvers. For most it was struggle enough to keep conscious. The Jedi had an even harder job.

They might have used the Force to dissuade the Scorned in pursuit, but their comrades were trying to push both asteroids off-course. They'd barely been able to repel one last time; now they had to move twice as much. It would take every scrap of effort.

The Jedi did their best. Vediah felt Zephian beside her, three more Jedi in other ships, all joining wills. They stretched across the void, felt Jecca bright and frantic, felt Koltatha's grim resolve on battle's edge. All of them were united, calling on the Force to move the unmovable. To work a second miracle.

They'd moved beyond knowledge or even belief. It simply had to be done. And working together they felt it happen. Both asteroids nudged further off-course, closer toward each other, closer to a collision that just might save Moralan's billions.

Vediah begged across light-years for more help. She felt Erakas, Essan, and their separate groups loan power, felt the collective will of all the Jedi in the Tion unite in this essential moment.

But where, she thought, were Ashar and Talyak? Where was Gedor, the most powerful of all?

A moment of doubt.

Then calamity. The ship off her port flank was slammed by a missile and vanished in fire and melted metal. Six lives disappeared, including the Jedi aboard. It was so quick they felt neither fear nor agony, but it rippled through Vediah's group, breaking concentration.

She tried to pull them together, but the Scorned were too close. Peacekeeper shuddered, then spun. Mor'shal shouted. Vediah's eyes popped open in time to see bullet-sprays tear through the hull. Metal ruptured, sparks flew and consoles blew. Mor'shal burst like a balloon, blood and flesh popping from her shot-through suit.

Vediah looked for Zephian, frantically reached in the Force.

The cockpit shattered. Shards flew like glass and metal knives. Vediah lifted arms to protect her face.

Then she knew nothing.

-{}-

When Vediah disappeared from the Force, Koltatha knew all was lost.

He'd never been the young woman's Master but he'd tried to be her guide after Sohr's death. He'd tried to nurture her potential. All they'd been through, all those years. Now she was gone. Vediah and two more Jedi, simply ended. He felt the other ships from their group, two more Jedi aboard, drop out of the battle-meld as they tried to escape.

Jecca tried to hold the Jedi together, but the careful pattern in which she'd woven them had been undone. Strands of thought spooled everywhere. The newer Jedi panicked. The asteroids slipped from their grip, rocks too heavy to keep hold of.

Unerring, invincible, they plunged straight toward Moralan.

As he sat on the deck of Nemesis, eyes still stubbornly closed, he heard Morguk mutter, "Three minutes."

Three minutes passed in forever and an instant. Koltatha urged the Jedi to try again but their thoughts were too scattered. Panic told hold, then the despairing knowledge that nothing could be done. The asteroids barreled toward the planet, their death-charge accelerated by Moralan's own gravity. A few Iduxian ships, Jecca's among them, gave chase until they were nearly pulled into the asteroids' vortex wake. But all of them, despairing, broke chase and surged away, some seconds before the planet welcomed its killers in a suicidal embrace.

Impact.

And again, Impact.

Koltatha felt billions die. Patriots, lovers, fathers and sons, masters and apprentices. A civilization with thousands of years of unique history, a rich deep culture, a race full of aspiration and yearning.

All of them, destroyed.

And the purity of Ashla—which he'd clung to after betrayal, during years of war, even through the slave ship's awful liberation—was washed away by agony more vivid and painful than anything he'd ever known.

All that remained was Bogan.

-{}-

Jecca retched in her chair. Only the crash webbing preventing her from curling into a ball. Tears spilled from her eyes and splattered on the interior curve of her helmet.

All those lives.

All those people.

All gone.

Jecca felt devastation cross Moralan in two waves, rippling out from the impact zone. Heat, wind, breaking earth, screams of helpless terror. Billions of voices crying out for salvation—crying to Jedi— only be silenced, prayers forever unanswered.

She felt, even more keenly, the feelings that passed through the remaining Jedi. Anger, hate, sorrow, despair, the deepest disappointment.

They had failed.

The Force had failed.

She wasn't sure how long she hunched, shuddering and crying, until Olander asked, "Ranger, can we get instructions?"

You couldn't dry your eyes inside a space suit. Had anyone thought of that before? Without checking hull integrity, Jecca wrenched off her helmet. Cold thin air dried her tears; she wiped the rest away. Olander spoke again through her earpiece, asking for orders.

"Stand by," she croaked, then tried to hail the Ascendant.

Jaminere didn't reply right away. She checked scanners and saw the Imperial fleet was well clear of the planet. Supremacy ships—and their Scorned allies—were fast approaching. Mean-while, shockwaves rushed across Moralan, churning continents into massive dust-storms and crushing cities. Even now, its people were dying.

The handful of Moralan starships were on the move too. They accelerated straight toward the Hutts, determined to die along with their world. The Force couldn't save them either.

Then what, she thought bitterly, was the point?

Finally Ascendant replied. "This is the Viceroy."

"Viceroy… sir..." Jecca tried to gather strength. "There's still people left on Moralan. I can feel then. We have to help—"

"They're beyond help," Jaminere snapped. "We have neither the time nor ability to land and pick up survivors. The Hutts will be here in minutes. I'll not throw away ships and lives for no reason. We're falling back to Xo's Eye."

"Sir, the entire Moralan race is about to die."

"If we try to help, we all die!" The viceroy's voice cracked. "There's nothing left to save except ourselves."

He was right, damn him. The channel clicked off. Silence.

Jecca put hands on her face, brushed back fresh tears. She could still feel people dying below. Or maybe they were gone already, and their deaths would echo inside her forever.

Weakly, Elzie asked, "What should we do, Ma'am?"

Jecca looked at her sensors. The first Moralan ships were hitting the Supremacy's forward line. One final sacrifice.

"Go," she rasped. "Xo's Eye. Take us there."

Without another word between them, the Iduxian ships changed course, synced headings, and jumped into hyperspace.

-{}-

Boonta the Denier watched dust-storms and devastation ripple across Moralan through the magnification screens on the Numinous. Direct hits were reported with both asteroids. Its last defenders threw themselves at the Hutt fleet. They'd be destroyed in minutes. The Imperials and Iduxians had turned, abandoning their former allies to extinction.

The Supremacy's humiliations at Nar Kreeta and Terman had been avenged, with barely any losses to Boonta's forces. Better still, Kossak had called before the battle to inform him that the Patarii had pledged their entire fleet against the humans. He said Dolog the Esteemed was irate and planned to lead the fleet himself. Preparations were underway for a final push that would exterminate the humans forever. The culling of Moralan's heretics was just the start.

It was, he thought, a most glorious day.

-{}-

Before there was light, there was the Force. It was like a hoist that grabbed Vediah and pulled her out of darkness. As she emerged into consciousness she realized this was Zephian, her fellow Jedi reaching out to her, which meant Zephian was still alive and so was she.

Her eyes fluttered. There was light, but not much. Red emergency glow shone on the vacuum-cold interior of the Peacekeeper. Chunks of debris and thick shards drifted slowly in the capsule's broken interior. Also drifting was one hand, floating detached from a body strapped to its station at her right. Its helmet was shattered, and so was the head inside. Vediah looked away and peered through a hole torn in the hull. Through the warped metal edges she saw twinkling stars.

Then Zephian appeared. He, too, was secure in his vacuum suit. White lights revealed the face inside his helmet: pale green, marked by Mirialan tattoos. He'd freed himself from his crash webbing and floated to her.

Peacekeeper's interior comm relays were down. He bent close, tapped their face-plates together, and spoke.

"Are you allright? Are you wounded?" His voice vibrated oddly as it passed from his helmet to hers.

"I… I don't think so," she croaked. "The others?"

"Mar'shol and Jeop are dead," he said. "Kel'mar is fine. Frankil… I'm not sure how long he has."

She didn't know how long any of them had. "The battle?" she whispered.

"Over." Zephian rasped. "Did you feel Moralan die?"

She realized how cold her lips were, how dry. "No."

"You're lucky."

Neither of them were lucky. "The others?"

"I… think they fled."

Good. She'd rather they escape than die trying to retrieve her. She was already dead. That was awful, undeniable fact. All her training and travels, successes and failures, yearning and insecurity, they all ended here. Dying in a cold metal tube, adrift in space.

Zephian understood. The older Jedi tried to add comfort in the Force, but he had little to give. Vediah felt like she could slip back into darkness again, and this time it would be relief.

Instead, there was light.

Blinding light, through the shattered remains of the cockpit nose. The Jedi held up their hands to block the glare. It was a starship, and her first thought was that they were rescued.

Then reality took hold. Her friends were far away. These could only be the Hutts' minions.

Zephian pulled close to her and tapped helmets. "Do you have a weapon?" he asked.

She did, strapped beneath her seat. The other Jedi who'd come to Idux had followed Shen's guidance and built themselves lightsabers. Not Vediah. All along she'd carried a blade of Tythan steel, once carried inside the walking stick of her last teacher.

She twisted in her chair and tried to reach below for Master Sohr's blade. She didn't get there. Suddenly the dead starship was filled with live bodies. Beings in layered vac-suits grappled Zephian and seized him by both shoulders. Another, holding a jagged knife, cut through Vediah's restraints, gnawing at her suit's skin without breaking it.

Vediah saw into his helmet. He was human, but his face was not friendly.

She warned Zephian to stand down. In their condition, these men were the only way they'd escape this shattered ship alive.

Whether it was the better fate was yet undetermined.

The human's helmet tapped against Vediah's and his voice vibrated through the glass. "Can you speak Tionese?"

"I can," she replied shakily.

"You're Iduxians, aren't you? The alien magicians who fight for Xim?"

"Are you going to give us to the Hutts?"

"Maybe," the human said. "But first, we have a better use for you."