It was a dark and cloudy night, as shadowy as a pissed-off Sith, and somehow twice as unpleasant. Across the city, respectable beings were settling into bed with a nice holodrama, or already fast asleep, or clubbing it up in Coronet's many fine bars. The sun had long since disappeared, and the lights winking out high up on the cloudcutters and apartment high-rises would lead many to believe that the city was going to sleep.

In truth, night time was when the city truly came alive.

I glared out the open window at the pregnant sky as I got dressed, throwing on my usual white shirt and dirty brown raincoat, half-heartedly tightening a threadbare black tie. I'd woken up an hour or so ago, had sat on the window sill and watched the sun set as I poured myself a glass of Corellian ale and lit a t'bac cigarra. Sunset and sunrise were the only times I saw the sun these days, but it was all I needed—just a stirring reminder that life carried on in the world outside my eternal night.

Taking a pull on the cigarra, I turned away from the refreshing breeze that whipped through the open window, my eyes lighting on the blinking datapad on the bedside table. I picked it up, pacing the cramped apartment as I flicked through the messages.

FINAL WARNING: Due to repeated failed attempts to contact you re your overdue CorTech payments, we will be taking further steps to collect your long-overdue bill. Please expect a bounty hunter in 30 standard… delete (If they actually bothered to contract a bounty hunter—which I highly doubted—well, it wouldn't be my first tangle with those gadget-toting twerps.)

SAVE 20% on Whyren's tumblers and chasers…

Official Message from the Office of Detective WAT-4D, Precinct 11, Corellian Security Division, Judicial Department re…

My eyes lit up. Finally! It had been at least a week since that stuck-up little droid had contacted me, and I had begun to worry that CorSec had slashed his budgets and forced him to pursue cost-effectiveness over actual effectiveness. What would the job be this time?

…re Official Case Report for Case No. T-XH-9105-3A: Dear Mr. Horn, You will find the report for the attempted capture of the Solo Avenue Shadow, attached below. Please compose a report and include any comments or corrections…

I sighed, flagging and minimizing the message. 4D was a stickler for procedure and demanded thorough reports from me every time I interfaced with CorSec on a case. It was annoying and tedious- but I had to admit that a less meticulous officer might have had their work with a non-CorSec detective shut down if it were not thoroughly documented. I owed my fairly steady wages to 4D, and I knew it. But I was dreading the thought of spending the night cooped up in my flat composing a report rather than heading out into the streets. I scanned the last couple messages desperately, looking for any excuse to leave the report off until another day.

REMINDER OF UPCOMING TOUR OF DUTY FROM THE OFFICE OF IMPERIAL KNIGHT MASTER FEL: Valaren Nejaa Horn, This is your final reminder to report to Imperial Coronet Legion Headquarters tomorrow at 0400 galactic standard hours to begin your required yearly tour of duty. For more information regarding your deployment, please contact Warrant Officer Lex…

"Kark," I muttered. As if to underline my frustration, my t'bac cigarra fizzled out. Distractedly, I tossed it onto a growing pile of detritus and rummaged in my coat pockets for another. Drawing a new cigarra out and slipping it between my lips, I snapped my fingers, a small flame appearing on the tip of my index finger and lighting the cigarra. Detective work didn't call for much fire-bending these days – 4D preferred to avoid unnecessary property destruction when able. But pyrokinesis definitely still had its perks on a day-to-day basis. I took a deep pull, eyes staring down at the summons from the Imperial Knights.

So. That time of year had finally arrived, much as I had done my best to reschedule and delay and slip out of it. I grimaced as I remembered my last tour of duty on Chandrila. Ditchwater had nothing on the sheer drudgery of standing guard in front of an Imperial office every day, maintaining Federation grooming standards, the monotony only broken by shouting matches with uptight middle-aged female beings trying to finagle their way inside government buildings to speak to managers. As I contemplated the prospect of embarking on another tour like the last, drafting 4D's report in the cozy comfort of my own apartment was starting to look like a holiday on Scarif.

But there was little to be done about it. Having a personal connection with Knight Master Antares Draco Fel had its perks at times, giving me more longitude to stay in Coronet when not on tour than most Knights would be permitted. Fel understood that there was little need to keep me in an Imperial base on a tight training regimen when my career on Corellia kept me more than familiar with all the skills of an Imperial Knight. But this connection meant that Fel would be personally looking out for my arrival, making sure that I employed my many skills in the service of the Imperial Knights when called upon. There was no escaping the fate that awaited me in about 8 standard hours.

I looked back down at the datapad, coming to the end of the unread messages.

NOTICE: We have been trying to reach you about your speeder's extended warranty…

Chucking the 'pad across the room to land on the bed, I ambled to my desk and threw myself down. The last thing I needed was 4D sending out a courier or, Force forbid, shuttling himself over to my next assignment to badger me about sending in my report. Any hint to Knight Fel that I wasn't fulfilling my duties on Corellia, and he would have no compunctions about confining me to an Imperial base in future to ensure that I was not slacking off. There was nothing for it but to bang out a report and send it on to 4D ASAP.

Fortunately, there wasn't much to add to the report. I had assisted CorSec on an attempted bust. They were trying to catch the Solo Avenue Shadow, a serial killer who had been haunting the nighttime streets of Coronet. We knew nothing about him: not a name, not a species, not even a description. We had holocam footage of some of the deaths – but they were always shrouded in shadow, impossible to make out a single detail of the killer. All we had were the locations of twenty-odd dead bodies. Fortunately, we'd discerned a pattern in the bodies – they were all centered around Solo Avenue, a street in the historic district of Coronet where lone tourists could easily be caught unaware and murdered. We'd identified a rundown building that could serve as this Shadow's hideout and busted in, blasters at the ready.

And we had found nothing. The place was dark and totally abandoned – or, at least that's what almost everybody thought. But I could have sworn I saw something in that darkness and felt something tug at my instincts in the Force, a strange flicker of movement that seemed to end almost before it began. In the moment, I'd shrugged it off as the usual post-raid jitters, but the more I thought about it, the more I was sure I'd seen something. But how was I supposed to explain such vague misgivings in a standard ops report and have anyone take me seriously? I stared down at the report, torn.

Then, a hand seemed to tug at the collar of my coat and jerk me backwards. "Kark!" I managed to bite out as my chair teetered, then tumbled backwards. A sharp whine, like a speeding insect, buzzed past my ear as I was upended, legs flying into the air as I landed on my back with an oomph!

I spluttered, swinging my legs off the toppled chair seat to sit on the floor, "Not funny. Didn't laugh."

"Glad to hear it," came the whispering voice of a woman, "It wasn't for giggles. Check your desk, Val."

Sighing, I clambered up and directed my gaze towards the desk, then froze as my eyes fastened on something small buried in the synth-wood.

"Toxic dart," she identified, "Don't move just yet. It came from the open window."

My eyes hadn't yet moved from the dart buried in my desk, "Frag. Good thing I have precognition, huh, baby?"

"Good thing I have it," she corrected tersely, her attention clearly elsewhere, "And the least you could do is acknowledge that it's my power and not yours when it's just us. I understand why you don't bring it up around company, but you didn't even thank me for the cigarra light earlier."

"Ash," I replied, feeling not a little persecuted, "Can we focus on whoever just tried to kill me, please?"

"Climb, then. Out the window with you, down the drainage pipe."

I didn't bother arguing. I'd been in this business long enough to know that Ash was almost always right, and when she wasn't, it was usually because there was something we had both missed.

Striding to the window, I sat on the sill, swinging over one leg, then the other so that I sat astride the sill. Then I tentatively rose and shimmied to the edge, being careful not to glance down at the positively dizzying drop just below me.

The drainage pipe snaked down the corner of the apartment complex, from the top past my window and all the way down to the ground fifty floors below me. I grabbed at it half-heartedly, my arms reaching not more than half the distance across open air to the boxy pipe, slick with freshly fallen rain.

"You've gotta be karking me," I growled. My coat billowed in the wind, and I quickly doffed it, folding it up and throwing it back inside the apartment. "I'm not going to fit inside that pipe and you know it."

"Hilarious. Now jump," she said, her voice taut, "I'm losing him. If you want to catch him, you have to go now."

"Fine," I gritted, taking a couple small steps back and loosening my tie, "Not much of a runway to work with here. Gimme a little boost, sweetheart,"

I breathed in once deeply, then out, then in again. For one long second, I held it. "I must be crazy," I mumbled. Then I took one great step and leaped.

The feeling of being suspended in the air with no solid ground underfoot has never been a pleasant one to me. I've always liked the feel of ferrocrete beneath my feet, the sense of control over my own life that it provides me. And I've never liked swimming. The sensation of being completely at the mercy of the elements pressed around me is suffocating in more than just a literal sense. But, believe me, as I stared down at fifty floors of air underneath my feet, I suddenly wished that this entire tower was submerged as deep as a Manaan kolto facility.

My hands clawed desperately for purchase on the boxy pipe. It looked as if the apex of my leap would end far short of my destination, and I would be in for a very long fall with a very sudden stop. "Boost me!" I yelled, my voice cracking with slight panic.

It was as if a powerful gust of wind had risen from underneath me. I felt myself soar higher than was natural, the drainage pipe flying towards me far faster than before.

CRASH!

Slamming into the drainage pipe with all the grace of a Barabel ballerina, I began to slide rapidly down the slick tube, a series of shallow alcoves each narrowly missing uppercutting me repeatedly. I couldn't keep this up for long without getting knocked clean out by an inanimate building ornament or reaching the end of this wild ride before I'd had a chance to slow down.

So, I inwardly apologized to my hands and arms in advance, then grabbed at one of the narrow alcoves ribbing the drainage pipe, clinging on for all I was worth. The sensation of nearly having my arms ripped out of their sockets as my momentum was abruptly arrested was not unexpected, but no less agonizing for it. I allowed myself a few seconds to rehearse the 3rd edition dictionary of Corellisi swear words as I dangled from the pipe, my body softly swaying in the breeze.

"Nice one," Ash congratulated me, her voice noticeably dry, "And, yes, you are crazy. Now track this guy before he disappears on us. He's headed into the industrial sector, and it looks like he knows exactly where he's going."

With about forty floors left to descend, my feet found tentative purchase on the alcove below me, and I began descending the pipe like the world's most uncomfortable ladder. "You know," I said between grunts of exertion, "Thanks go both ways. You may do all the fancy stuff, but it's me that does all the heavy lifting. What's left of a voice in a head if the fella you're inhabiting no longer has a head?

"Now that's just insulting," she chided, her voice indignant, "If you think all I am is a voice, then you're even stupider than I thought."

With only a few stories left, I semi-slid the rest of the way down, landing on my feet hard, but fully intact. I patted myself down to make sure that assessment was correct, shivering slightly in the rain.

"Into the shipyards with you, Valaren Horn," she reprimanded, "You need to focus right now, not chat me up. Trust your instincts. You know I'm always here even when you can't hear me."

"Just what I needed," I replied, beginning to walk briskly down the sidewalk, "a schoolteacher to say my name in a disapproving voice. Thank you, Ms. Ashla."

Night had truly fallen on Coronet, the streets of the residential sector close to empty, with only the odd homeless person or spice dealer lurking in the alleyways between buildings. I paid them no mind; they knew me, and they knew what would happen to them if they so much as laid a hand on me. Now that Ash had stopped talking, I could feel my own senses operating on overdrive, could feel her silent work providing me info on movement all around me. And I could see a faint trail leading down the rain-slicked street and out of sight, as if she had planted a nav beacon in my head, guiding me towards my would-be killer.

I quickened my pace as I approached an intersection, watched the trail wrap around the corner of a building and continue down the street. Hulks of black metal loomed before me as this new street ended and turned into a narrower walkway through alleys of industrial scrap and abandoned load-lifters as big as a small residential building. As I kept pace with my attacker, head down to keep my face out of the rain, I suddenly became aware of how naked I felt. My arms moved at my sides, hands curled into loose fists, and I suddenly felt very awkward, like a shuffling wampa, so used to stuffing my hands in my coat pockets.

Right, left, in and out, under great metal pipes and around half-finished freighters the path took me. All the while, the paths seemed to become narrower and narrower. Feeling the trail grow cold as if my attacker had picked up the pace, I shifted from a brisk walk to a jog, and then to a run. My shirt was now water-logged, my ill-fitting tie flapping about in the midnight breeze as I tried to keep pace without making too much of a racket. With a little luck, I could catch up with him and get in a surprise attack before he even knew I was here.

We were deep in the shipyards now, well-isolated from any sign of life. Emerging into a clearing, I decelerated hastily, the trail suddenly becoming much stronger. He was close – I could feel it. A great cargo liner loomed before me, the space evidently cleared for ongoing construction. But it was complete enough to have an enclosed interior – and the attacker's path lead right inside the shadowy entrance to the creaky behemoth.

Instinctually, I reached a hand around to my belt to unstrap the holster as I neared the gantry up to the cargo liner's entrance. Silence pressed in on me like an overeager Askajian escort, and each careful step felt as loud to me as a blaster shot

My hand grasped around for the handle of my trusty snub-nosed pistol, felt only the synth-leather of my holster, and froze.

The holster was empty. It took all my will-power to stifle a truly visceral curse in Rodian. No blaster – and no lightsaber either; both of those were still safely ensconced in my apartment.

Any ordinary man would have given up here. Stranded in the middle of unfamiliar territory, weaponless, cold and shivering from the rain. He'd have shrugged and turned back with a resolution to buy a toxic-dart-proof vest, or else retreated and dialed CorSec for assistance. I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind either. After all, I would be leaving Corellia for at least six months tomorrow, and I was fairly sure that no would-be assassins would be able to knock me off without facing the wrath of the Imperial Knights – a fate I wouldn't even wish on my worst assassin. Perhaps it was better to let sleeping akk dogs lie.

But I was no ordinary man. For even without the familiar weight of my blaster or the comforting heft of my lightsaber, I was not weaponless. I had a little friend who lived inside my head and gave me the power of gods . . . or demigods, at any rate. As long as I had that, I was the weapon.

Arriving at the top of the gantry, I stepped carefully into the cargo ship. It was pitch-black inside, the cloud-shrouded night providing very little impact in the impenetrable wall of darkness before me. My jaw tightened. This would be a true test of my bag of tricks.

I stepped into the shadows, my senses informing me of a long hallway intersecting with another, both leading far into the ship's belly.

"So you have decided to pursue me," a sibilant voice slithered from the shadows, as if from right behind me. I whirled, eyes failing to pierce the darkness as I stretched out with my feelings.

Nothing.

"How brave," the voice continued, a clear note of mockery in its voice, "And yet how incredibly foolish."

Backtracking slightly, I located the source of the voice: a speaker hanging unobtrusively from a corner – merely one in a network that connected to the ship's intercom. Not a good sign. It meant my target was on the bridge . . . and he had most likely been here before.

Refusing to allow my lack of sensory guidance to rattle me, I began making my way down the hallway towards a door at the far end, hand brushing against the metal walls. Most likely I could have navigated the ship's interior relying on Ash alone. But if this guy had access to the ship's intercom, then he had access to its security system. If he saw me stumbling my way through the darkness dependent on the wall, he'd be more likely to underestimate my abilities.

The wheels began to turn in my head, suspicion growing in me. "The game is up, buster," I called out, sure that the ship's security system would pick it up. "You didn't expect me to track you all the way back to your hidey-hole, yet here I am. CorSec is already on the way with a complement of officers and security droids. Give it up now, and you might get off with a light sentence."

"A tantalizing possibility," the voice sounded from another corner, "yet until they arrive," the door at the end of the hall creaked open, and he let out a hideous chuckle, "you are in my domain."

"A lot of big talk from someone who's done nothing but run and hide," I retorted, my eyes lingering on the newly opened door as I approached, "How about you come out and back it up with some action?"

Deafening silence greeted me. "Feelings hurt?" I muttered, easing through the door and glancing around. The echoes of my muttered words and Ashla's silent advice told me that I had reached a cavernous stairwell. I dialed back my senses a bit as I began to slog up the stairs. If this was "his domain," I would need to be cautious for traps. But it was quiet as a tomb here, and he was clearly content to wait for me to arrive on the bridge. No doubt with some fiendish trap prepared.

I had not even an inkling of the layout of this ship, but it only made sense that the bridge was on the top floor. However, it had only been a few levels before I arrived at the top of the stairwell – clearly not the uppermost level of the vessel judging by its size. Again, the door slid open with a groan as I approached, then shut behind me as I entered this new level.

I was in another hallway, equally as pitch-black as the last. Another intercom crackled to life, "I know who you are, Valaren Horn. Your feeble act is wasted on me. You are a knight of the Fel Empire armed with the Force as your weapon. Spare me your theatrics, and find me."

I came to a halt, my eyes narrowing.

"Fine."

And with that, I vanished, my image disappearing from even the night-vision security monitors by which my target was no doubt tracking me. A deep laugh warbled through the speakers, "At last." Then it shut off.

My lips peeled into a feral grin. Fine, indeed. If that's how he wanted it, then that's how he'd have it. He'd had his chance at mercy and flushed it down the drain. My steps moved faster, but no less quiet.

"Very good, Knight," the voice spoke softly, "but not good enough."

Time stopped momentarily, and despite the darkness, I seemed to see a knife flying through the air down the hallway, aimed directly for my throat. I dove forward, tucking and rolling to come back up on my feet further down the hallway. As I arrived at my feet, something furry slammed hard into my face, sending me stumbling back and landing hard on my rear.

I struggled to focus on the shadows before me. There was something there, but it seemed to defy reality, a being of deeper darkness than the hallway around. It shifted towards me with terrifying speed, and I scrambled backwards, my hand landing on the shadow monster's knife. But it was too late to stop the shadow's next attack. Vicious talons sliced through the air, slashing at my face and sending blood splattering against the metal walls as I let out a scream of agony.

The impact sent my head crashing down onto the floor panels of the hallway, and I let out another involuntary gasp. I felt a clawed hand tighten cruelly around my leg, then I was jerked forwards towards the shadow. A claw grabbed my tie and began to lift my body up. Tightening my own grip on the shadow's knife, I swung it up, driving it into the creature's shoulder. It let go of me with a snarl, dropping me abruptly back on the ground with a clatter. Scrambling to my feet, I stepped back a couple of steps, then thrust my hands out before me.

At once, the hallway was filled with bright orange flickering light as angry flames spat from my hands. Yet still, it was as if the hallway were wholly empty, my body still cloaked in the Force, and the creature seeming to hide between each flicker of flame. I heard a yowl of pain, then . . . once again, nothing.

I had a good idea of what this shadow was now. Had it not come to blows, I might have assumed it was an assassin with a stealth field generator. But that fur . . . those talons . . . that reality-defying shadow – I had found myself in the shadowy home base of a Defel. And I had a pretty good idea of just who he was too.

Blood dripped from my face, and I did nothing to stanch the flow. I was angry now, angry and afraid, and I reveled in the pain, soaked in the memory of the Defel's howl of agony from the knife, from the flame. How common it was for ignoble monsters to run in the face of fire. This was no longer a fight among equals, but a hunter tracking his prey. I turned towards the open door through which the Defel had surely fled, "The game is afoot."

I was hot on his tracks now and catching up. The trail he left behind was no longer like a wispy string of lights – it was a continuous smear of hot, red blood, and I longed to spill any blood the foul creature had left in him.

"We've got him now, Ash," I whispered. But there was no response, not even a feeling, as before, that she was silently backing me up. She had disappeared again. Which could only mean . . .

"Let's find him, Val," a feminine voice spoke, low and sweet and cool, "Let's find him and kill him."

I remained silent – no arguments there. At last, our path terminated at the top of another dizzying stairwell. The bridge. The door slid open invitingly, and I hesitated a moment. But there was no warning bump, no hint in my gut that the door was trapped in any way. Feeling even more cautious at the lack of a trap, I stepped inside.

"So," I said casually as the door slid shut behind me. The shadow stood in the center of the bridge, all signs of weakness gone. Now that I had a slightly better look at it, I was surprised by its diminutive stature – no more than five feet tall. All the better for me. "The Solo Avenue Shadow. Got tired of me knocking on your door and decided to drop in yourself, did you?"

"Is that what they're calling me?" The shadow barked a small, pained laugh, "Your CorSec friends are bumbling fools. Without you, their investigation will crumble to nothing. Speaking of whom," the Defel glanced towards the great glass viewport, "should they not be here by now?"

That moment of distraction was all I'd been waiting for. I moved like a man possessed, body hurtling with unnatural speed to tackle the Defel. But the movement had been nothing more than bait, a feint to force a move out of me. His hand emerged from the nebulous shadow of his body as I approached, and two blaster shots flew at me with laser precision. I twisted, allowing one to fly past me and raising my right hand instinctively in a defensive move. But at such close range and with so little time to react, the blaster bolt slammed into my right hand, arresting my momentum as I clutched at my hand with a yell, the hand seeming to glow in the dim bridge.

Now it was his turn to rush me. Moving as fast as black lightning, the Shadow was on me, sending me careening to the floor as it collapsed on top of me, pinning my right hand under my body. Lying on my back with his hands searching for my throat, I frantically threw his hands back again and again, struggling to get out from under him. But there was no escaping his constant assault. If I remained on the defensive, then he would persist until I tired and then slit my throat with one great claw.

Time to go on the offensive then, no matter the risks. I plunged my left hand past both his arms, and his eyes gleamed as my defenses collapsed and his hands closed around my throat. But finding the knife still jammed in its shoulder, I twisted it viciously, the shadow's hold momentarily loosening as it let out a demonic screech.

But the fight wasn't out of it yet. Surging to his feet, the Shadow grabbed me by the tie and pulled me halfway up so that my feet braced against the floor diagonally, and my weight was solely centered on my tie. Its other claw fastened around my neck; I began to gasp as its fist tightened like a metal vise, its cruel talons beginning to dig into my throat. I threw out my right hand from under my body and grasped his arm, pulling at it desperately and sending my body hurtling forward just far enough to throw a wild punch at the shadow's face with my left. It let out a grunt but continued to squeeze the life out of me.

Stars began to swim before my eyes, as if my body were preparing me for one last jump beyond the galaxy. A sense of peace tugged at me, a feeling that perhaps things were meant to be this way, but with a scream of rage, I refused to let it take hold of me. Grasping the Shadow's arm firmly, my hand still glowed the same blazing red color of the blaster bolt that had impacted it.

My expression darkened, and I poured all my focus into that hand, a smile tugging at my face despite barely being able to breath.

His fur began to heat beneath my hand, first simply warm, then hot, then searing enough to char fur and sear flesh. With a snarl, he tried to shake my hands off, but I held on doggedly, white-hot rage consuming me so that I could no longer tell the pain in my throat from the heat that threatened to eat at my hands to the fire that raged at my core.

A strand of fur burst into flame, and suddenly the Defel was awash in glowing blue fire, his screams intermingling with mine until neither of us could tell whose was whose. In that moment, the true nature of our battle became clear. It was not a battle of assassin and target, nor even of hunter and prey. Any normal being who stumbled upon our struggle here would believe that demons struggled here, both parties completely invisible to the naked eye, yet the evidence of a vicious battle being left in our wake.

The Solo Avenue Shadow was a demon of shadow, visible only when surrounded by natural darkness – a cheap and shoddy imitation of his dark nature. And I – I was a demon of flame, a hellblazer bringing the flames of Chaos itself to bear on my shadowy counterpart even as I drew in the energy of the flames around my right arm once more, still leaving it unscathed. None saw my face, cloaked as I still was in the Force, but if they had, they would have seen only flames in my wide-open irises.

At last, the shadow demon's arm went limp, releasing me to collapse on the ground as he too crumpled and twitched on the floor. I rose, gently blowing out a small lick of flame on my wrist.

"Energy transfer," I panted, "Old family trick."

The furry alien shifted and moaned unintelligibly.

Kneeling down beside the Defel, I regarded the writhing dark mass thoughtfully, "You were right. If I leave you to CorSec, they'll only figure out another way to bungle your imprisonment. You're a cold-blooded killer, and I can't risk you walking free."

Almost casually, I rested my hand, still practically pulsing with the fiery energy I had absorbed, lightly on the Defel's face.

"By the power vested in me as a Knight of the Fel Empire, and by extension, of the Galactic Federation, I sentence you to death. See you in Chaos."

The Shadow's eyes found mine, "I look forward to it, brother," he rasped weakly with a grin, spitting out blood and teeth, "From one cold-blooded killer to another."

Nothing cold about where you're headed.

"All yours, Bogan," I said.

"With pleasure," the honeyed voice returned. And suddenly, with a roar and a flash of light, any semblance of a face was gone, the Shadow's head reduced to ash and a slimy puddle of melted flesh.

I stood up and dusted my hands of ash and charred fur. "Thanks, sweetheart. Bring Ash around again once I get back to my flat, will you?"

A knock sounded at my door, and I started at my desk. "Door's unlocked," I called around a freshly lit cigarra.

The door swung open to reveal a crimson-clad Imperial Knight, standing tall with shoulders back. I leaned back in my chair, waving him in, "Come in, come in. Ale?"

The man entered, removing his helmet and revealing a scarred face with pepper-gray hair, "No drinking on the job, I'm afraid." He glanced around, eyes resting on my rough-looking face, "That's a nasty scar. Looks like someone took a knife to you just recently."

I traced the outline of the scar along my face, "Nothing that a little bacta on the ship won't heal, I hope. I would hate to ruin my ravishing good looks."

"We'll get you healed up, don't you worry," the Knight reassured. He tapped a nameplate on his chest, "Warrant Officer Eusti Lex. Knight Master Fel requested that I drop by your place and accompany you to the facility in case you required any assistance."

"How thoughtful of him," I commented, helping myself to the last dregs of my bottle of Corellian ale, "Always has my best interest at heart, doesn't he?"

"As he does for us all," Lex returned, hefting my bags, "But for you especially, it seems. Never understood exactly why."

"Guess I must leave a charmed life," I said distractedly, eyes focusing on the datapad before me.

Lex approached my desk, looking down at the datapad, "CorSec report, eh? Didn't peg you as the report-writing type."

"More so the contractor of a report-requesting type," I retorted irritably.

"Either way," Lex said, glancing at his wrist chrono, "Best you wrap that up before we head out so you can focus on learning the details of your new assignment. Need to add anything before you leave?"

Reluctantly, my eyes drifted back down to the desk. The report sat there – still untouched since just before the Shadow had tried to assassinate me. In the few hours since I'd returned to my flat, I'd sat at the desk staring blankly at the 'pad and taking a break only to light a fresh cigarra or pour another glass.

What was I supposed to add to the report now? That I'd tracked down and murdered the Solo Avenue Shadow all on my own? That sounded like a great way to lose a client, at best, or, more likely, chart a course to the nearest detention facility. WAT-4D may have appreciated my often-unorthodox methods, but I had a feeling he'd draw the line at vigilante justice.

But now that things had died down, I was beginning to feel some regrets too. Had I gone too far? It was a mercy to the citizens of Coronet that the Shadow would no longer haunt their streets and stalk in their shadows. But the Defel was no longer a threat once he was on the ground. Had too much time passed for my sentencing to be a crime of passion? Or did my sentence indicate that it was coldly pre-meditated?

And if justice is what had led me to reduce the Shadow's face to ash, shouldn't justice also lead me to turn myself in?

"Where are we deploying?" I asked, eyes still focused on the report. If it was Chandrila or Commenor or Kuat or any other guard post planet, then perhaps it would be better if I turned myself in. After all, it wasn't as if I'd be contributing anything to society standing guard at some town hall.

"The homeworld of the Jedi," Lex answered briskly, and my head snapped up and to the side to stare at the Knight as he continued, "Tython. Seems the Jedi have found something that makes them nervous enough to request backup. All done here?"

Without a second thought, I submitted the report without further comments and stood, powering off the datapad and slipping it into a bag, "All done. Lead the way."

My thoughts raced as the Knight donned his helmet and began escorting me down the hall, out of the apartment, and into a speeder towards Imperial Knight HQ. Tython. A planet of great light, but of great darkness as well. A planet so thoroughly steeped in the Force was exactly what I needed.

"How about it, Ash?" I commented, ignoring the Knight's ponderous stare. "Jedi turf. Bound to be a hoot and a half compared to this place, huh?"

Silence.

I shivered. It'd been like that ever since I flamed the Shadow. Usually, she'd give me a warm congratulations on solving my newest case, would allow calm to flow back into me and give me a few blissful moments of peace, like sitting by a warm fireside. But this time . . . nothing.

"C'mon, darling," I whispered, "I know you can't stay mad at me."

It was like I'd been shut out of my own home at midnight on Life Day. I had been left out in the cold, afraid.

But not alone.

"Something that's got the Jedi quaking in their boots, huh?" Bogan commented, her voice full of gleeful anticipation, "You're in over your head this time, Horn. Try to at least take a few Jedi with you when you go, will you, honey?"