| abstract
| - Tyria walked back into the private wardroom that she and Milya had shared over the last week. It was a cozy little suite, with a separate living and sleeping area, a small kitchenette, and a refresher station, all elegantly furnished in the muted gray and gold of the Tendrando Arms corporate colors, but the placidity of the suite did not extend to Tyria. Frustration was evident on her face as she strode across the room to the refresher. Milya waited for her to emerge and sit in one of the high-backed chairs by the table, watching as the Jedi drummed her fingers on the table impatiently. Milya let the Jedi stew a few more minutes before she glanced over from where she was reclining in her bed, reading an intelligence briefing Lando had provided. “Problems?” she asked. Tyria glared over in her general direction. “You already know,” she replied. “Six days in interrogation, and not a single sound from her lips, or anything useful from the Force. If we didn’t have her on a nutrient line, she’d have starved herself. If she wasn’t restrained, she’d have choked herself with the nutrient line.” “Is that so surprising from someone who had three ways to kill herself on her person at the time of her capture?” “I suppose not, but it’s not very helpful either,” Tyria replied. “There’s something else that’s bothering me, too.” Milya had a feeling she knew where the conversation was headed. She had anticipated the subject coming up, and the fact that Tyria had restrained herself thus far was quite an accomplishment. “You want to know about your memory from Yanibar,” Milya surmised. “Damn right I do,” Tyria replied forcefully. “I can’t believe that nearly three years of my memory were fabricated by own mind after my memory was erased.” “That is understandable,” Milya said. “Many who find out the truth after their memory was altered feel this way.” “No offense, but I don’t think you really understand,” Tyria answered heatedly. “I do,” Milya replied in the same even tone. “My daughter had the memories first twenty-seven years of her life blurred or erased because she decided to leave the refuge. I know exactly what it is like to feel like you’ve lost part of your life.” Tyria’s aggressiveness vanished at Milya’s words. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’d forgotten that.” Milya said nothing for a minute, lost in her reflections on her daughter Rhiannon. When Milya had last seen her daughter, she’d asked her when she was going to return to the refuge with her family to join the evacuation. Rhiannon had been distant, noncommittal—which had characterized their relationship over the last fifteen years. Even when Milya had restored Rhiannon’s memory ten years earlier, their relationship hadn’t been the same since Rhiannon had first left. “Can you help restore my memory?” Tyria asked suddenly, cutting into Milya’s introspection. “You mentioned that you could try back on your ship, but we were too busy planning out how to save Tendrando Arms to worry about it then.” Milya snapped back into reality to regard Tyria. “Yes,” she said. “I can. There are only a few of us on Yanibar who can do it, the reclaiming of memories, but I am one of them. And then once we’re done, I’m going to have a chat with our guest.” Milya laid one aged hand on the table. “Take my hand,” she said to Tyria. “Let your mind open to the Force, and together, we will journey back to reclaim what was hidden.” Tyria nodded, closing her eyes and placing her hand in Milya’s as currents of the Force swept through both of them. Several hours later, Milya finally released Tyria’s hand. The woman was pale and trembling, but as her eyes opened again, she seemed coherent. “Do you remember now?” Milya asked her. “I do,” Tyria said. “I remember the desert, the green refuge inside the mountains. I can see the Hall of Remembrance. It’s all coming back to me.” “Good,” Milya said warmly. “Your people showed me the way to unlocking my potential, to becoming a Jedi,” Tyria said. “You helped train me.” “I did,” Milya admitted. Tyria blushed. “Then I suppose I should be thanking you . . . both for back then and now,” she said. “You saved Selu’s life on Coruscant,” Milya replied. “Consider us even.” “Your world is dying, isn’t it?” Tyria asked. “You mentioned that earlier on the ship, that the Yuuzhan Vong had doomed it.” “War has many casualties,” Milya answered simply. “Yanibar was one of them.” She rose from the table to retrieve her utility belt. Her lightsaber had unfortunately been damaged in the blast and she hadn’t had time to repair it, but she still had her vibroblade and her pistol. “You’ll want to rest,” Milya told Tyria. “The sudden influx of memories can be very taxing on the mind.” Tyria nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” she said. “It’s a lot to absorb at once.” “I’ll be back,” Milya informed her. “It’s time I talked with our guest.” She left, advancing down the hall and around the corner to the secured lobby where two hulking YVH droids stood guard over a sealed blast door. “I’m here to question the prisoner,” she told the droids. “Leave your weapons here,” the droid informed her in its deep, ultra-masculine interpretation of Lando Calrissian’s voice. Milya complied, shucking her pistol and vibroblade into a bin. The droid gestured her forward as the first pair of blast doors opened to admit her into a narrow hallway. She advanced into the hallway as the doors sealed behind her. The inner pair of blast doors didn’t open until the first pair was fully closed. Milya strode forward into the secured cell as soon the inner doors opened. The cell was dark, with only a single spotlight shining down on its sole occupant. She was seated in a chair that had been permacreted to the cell floor and her wrists and ankles were stuncuffed to the armrests and chair legs respectively. A slender intravenous line ran from one arm to a line suspended from a rack behind the chair, while two electrodes were attached to her forehead. Milya knew from the briefings Calrissian had given her that they monitored her brain activity for Force usage and would transmit a mild electric shock to disrupt her concentration if she tried to use the Force too heavily. No longer did the woman before cut the same fearsome image she had the last time Milya had seen her. Her flexible armor suit was gone, replaced by a drab green shirt and pants that looked like medcenter pajamas. Her red hair hung limply down in tangled locks from her head, and she smelled foul from having not seen a refresher in nearly a week. Only her smoldering green eyes and the defiant expression on her face bespoke the spirited opponent that Milya had battled on the rooftops. Even as Milya’s years of training and experience in the intelligence world warned her that this was a dangerous, cruel opponent, who had callously attempted to murder her and Lando Calrissian, part of her felt a pang of sympathy for this woman. Her mind flashed back to nearly sixty years earlier, when the Sun Guard of Thrysus had sold her into slavery to a group of slavers. She had been beaten and chained up, her adopted parents murdered only hours earlier, at her lowest possible point. Yet, Milya remembered well finding the strength to break free, kill all of the slavers and avenge her parents, enduring due to the indomitable will within her. She saw that same will in the eyes of the woman sitting in front of her, and even though Milya knew it made this woman a deadly foe, it also gave her a sense of kinship. Her rational mind sardonically reminded her that the feeling was not likely to be mutual. “I’m not going to ask you any questions,” Milya said after she had finished surveying the prisoner. “The past week has already shown that you won’t answer anything that you don’t want to.” As expected, no response. “I personally am not above certain interrogation techniques to elicit information, but we both know that to extract anything useful from you, I’d have to cross several lines that I’m not willing to cross.” Normally, Milya never would have admitted having any such ethical barriers to a prisoner, but this woman clearly knew who she was, and since Ariada had trained her, she likely knew the methods of the Yanibar Guard. Milya circled the restrained woman slowly. “Ariada’s probably told you a lot about me,” Milya said. “I can guess most of it. You probably know I’m the director of Yanibar Guard Intelligence, trained as both a Jedi and a Matukai, and all my various familial affiliations to other people on Yanibar.” She leaned down to whisper in the ear of the prisoner. “Did Ariada tell you that I trained her?” Milya asked. The prisoner’s eyes shot sideways to glare at her, but she showed no signs of breaking. “I did,” Milya said. “She was my best student, and my most abject failure.” Milya removed the electrodes from the forehead of the prisoner. “I’m taking these off,” she said. “If you try anything, I will stop you, but I want you to be able to sense the truth in my words.” She started circling the woman again. “I don’t know what cause Ariada has you believing in, nor what she’s told you about my motivations, but believe me when I say that it was her decisions that caused her to leave Yanibar. She hates us because when she fell to the dark side, we tried to stop her.” The assassin’s face was blank, utterly devoid of human emotion. Milya took a step back to evaluate the captive. “Believe it or not, but I’ve been in a similar situation as you,” Milya said. “Restrained. Captured. Condemned to a miserable existence. Denied of basic human dignity. I was about your age when it happened, and I never lost hope or the will to fight for my life. I see that same fire in your eyes.” Milya squatted down to look the assassin directly in the face. “There’s two differences between your situation and mine,” she said. “The first is that I’m not going to let you escape. The second is that I’m not the person Ariada told you I am, the kind of person like those slavers that captured me.” She held up a plastine bottle she had brought from her room. “This is an Aitha protein drink,” she said. “Nutritious, tasty, all of that. I know you’re willing to sit there and sulk in that chair, that you’ll endure all this without a word, but I’m offering you something better. It’s not much, but it’s a small start.” Milya took a swig from the bottle. “It’s not poisoned or drugged,” she said. “You can sense that I’m not lying.” She held up the bottle. “Give me a nod if you want some,” Milya told her. “I’m not looking for anything else or any other information, just a nod.” The assassin considered her for a moment, then gave Milya a fractional nod. Milya took that as an encouraging sign, advancing close enough to bring the bottle up to the assassin’s chapped lips. The woman’s mouth opened enough for Milya to let her drink. She was just starting to think that her good-faith gesture was being well received when the assassin spat the protein drink in her face. Milya backed off, wiping the liquid from her face and hair. Milya closed the bottle and put it away, then replaced the electrodes on the assassin’s forehead. The woman was still glaring at her, but there was the barest hint of a triumphant smirk in her expression. “All right,” Milya said. “We’ve made some progress today—you’ve shown you are willing to communicate.” With that, she turned and strode out of the room, satisfied that she had managed to get in one last parting shot. She hadn’t anticipated much more from this session, but it was a start. This was going to be a challenge. Zonama Sekot Zeyn took a deep breath as the world swelled to consume the view on his shuttle. It was an impressive sight to see a world this alive in such a remote location—the intelligence brief hadn’t done it justice. Relative to the ecliptic, its southern hemisphere was a mass of silvery clouds and storms. The north pole of the world was an icy white, while the rest of the northern hemisphere seemed to be carpeted with vegetation, judging by the lush green features. Small lakes and rivers dotted the surface intermittently, but there was no trace of a large city anywhere on its features. Most of all, the planet itself was like a nova among stars when he sensed it with the Force, a living organism unlike anything he had ever sensed. He quickly realized that his original plan, which was to simply home in on the most distinctive Force-sensitive in hopes that it was the Force-sensitive scientist Danni Quee, was not going to work. The magnitude of Sekot’s presence in the Force inundated his senses, washing over everything. Lacking the foresight of his aunt Milya, Zeyn would have to find her on his own. Closing his eyes, he began concentrating on a technique known to most Elite Guardians. It took him several breaths to establish the correct focus, but his effort was rewarded. His shuttle disappeared from space, concealed by a Force illusion, while he concealed his own Force signature. He’d read the intelligence reports on this planet. He knew what was down there. It didn’t take long for his concealed shuttle to pierce the atmosphere and swoop down, cruising over the thickly-forested surface. Giant tree-like plants called boras dominated much of the northern hemisphere, and their size was comparable to the wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk. Zeyn knew enough to stay away from those living organisms, having learned that they could channel lightning through their iron tips into the sky. Instead, he headed for a settlement, figuring that on a world populated by non-humans, a human scientist would be relatively famous and easy to find. He trusted in the Force for guidance when it came to selecting a settlement, hoping that he wouldn’t be searching for long. The planet made him uneasy—particularly because of its inhabitants. Accepting the gentle nudge of the Force, he let his ship drift off to the west, finding a sizable settlement near the edge of the massive boras-saturated forest. Zeyn knew that despite his attempts to hide himself and his ship, the planet was likely aware of him. If it wasn’t, it would be as soon as he touched down—every plant on Zonama Sekot was reported to be connected to the planet’s consciousness. Zeyn’s invisible shuttle cruised over the settlement in a wash of repulsorlifts and he found a clearing near the edge of town where he could land. A sour taste filled his mouth as he realized with disgust that the Force had led him to a Yuuzhan Vong settlement. Old instincts and urges came back to him as he found his hand reaching for the trigger on the control stick. It had been ten years since he’d last fought the Yuuzhan Vong, but he remembered them and their vicious crusade across the galaxy well. He remembered the blood that drenched the soil of Rishi when he and a few thousand Yanibar Guardsmen had mounted a desperate defense against a rampaging horde of Yuuzhan Vong. He remembered helping Ryion free dozens of Yanibar Guard prisoners who had been cruelly tortured by the sadistic aliens. It all came back to him in a rush and Zeyn felt a sudden urge to power shields and weapons and lay waste to the settlement. While most of the other Elite Guardians that had been dispatched to hunt Ariada had taken civilian ships that had been outfitted by YGI so as to be inconspicuous, Zeyn had had no such need for discretion on a planet with no spaceports, port authorities, or patrol ships. He was flying a late-model Javelin shuttle, complete with two laser cannons, a bevy of concussion rockets, and twin repeating blaster chin turrets. The dark urge spoke to him, reminding him of the atrocities that the Yuuzhan Vong had inflicted upon him and the rest of the galaxy, and told him that it would be just to kill them. They deserved it. His fingers went to the arming switch on his rockets. Then, Zeyn took a deep breath and checked himself. “No,” he said to himself. “Atrocities are not reconciled by more suffering.” His hand fell away from the weapons panel and he landed the shuttle. The repulsor wash kicked up leaves and dust as the spacecraft settled down. Yuuzhan Vong began gathering near the landing site and Zeyn dropped the illusion, knowing that there was no point to it unless Ariada was already waiting for him. The Yuuzhan Vong species largely existed outside the Force and many of the extensions of the Force did not affect them, one of many reasons they were dangerous foes. Their incredible manipulation of biotechnology that gave them living weapons and implants was another. Zeyn made sure to arm himself heavily before he left the ship, starting with a flexible, tough, form-fitting polymer nanocomposite suit and matching boots. It was dark-gray, with a texture composed of hundreds of tiny hexagonal panels sewn together. The suit was designed for sleekness and stealth along with maximum range of motion, so its protection was only an armorweave underlayer and trauma pads in non-jointed areas. Over top of that, he pulled on a light cuirass of Zeison Sha and Echani design that the Elite Guardians favored, which he had painted in various intermingled hues of green for his trip to this planet. His lightsaber rested on his belt, while an S-5XS slugthrowing sidearm was holstered on his other side. A loadbearing black vest went over the armor, with numerous hooks and pockets for additional equipment. He had a vibroblade hanging from the vest along with several grenades, another vibroblade tucked into an ankle sheath. Zeyn did not bother with a comlink, though; the range was too far to signal back to Yanibar or the Daara’sherum. Zeyn grabbed a pair of tinted ballistic glasses that would help protect his eyes from the thrown bugs, poisons, and gases that the Yuuzhan Vong often used. Lastly, he retrieved an S-2C blaster carbine and several spare power packs. Then, he took a deep breath and headed for the rear shuttle hatch. It opened with a mechanical grumble and whirring sound as the actuators lowered it down to reveal an arc of Yuuzhan Vong staring expectantly at the shuttle. The hot, dank, humid air of the jungle washed over him, accompanied by the familiar smell of the Yuuzhan Vong. His hand tightened around the pistol grip of the carbine at the sight of the aliens, but he controlled himself—though some of them seemed to be armed with coufee knives, their body language did not bespeak hostility. Zeyn’s Lorrdian heritage gave him a unique understanding of nonverbal communication and these Yuuzhan Vong, though tense and uncertain, were not in aggressive postures. “Greetings, traveler,” one of them said. “What brings one of the Jeedai here?” Zeyn relaxed his grip on the carbine incrementally. Remember, he told himself. These guys are just as likely as you are to be targeted by Ariada. The enemy of my enemy is still probably an enemy. That last traitorous thought was a guiding dictum of the Yanibar Guard, which had lived and survived by suspicion and paranoia for far too many years to ascribe to something so risky as a forced alliance—they had tried that thirty years ago and it had nearly gotten the refuge destroyed by the Zann Consortium. Zeyn inhaled deeply as his eyes swept over the crowd for threats one last time. “I bring a warning and a message,” he said. “This planet is in danger of being targeted.” “What is the danger?” the seeming leader asked, his fluent Basic no doubt the result of a tizowyrm translator creature. “There is a rogue Jedi who we believe may attack this planet,” Zeyn told the Yuuzhan Vong. “She has several ships at her disposal, and a terrible bioweapon, as well as a vendetta against the Yuuzhan Vong.” “Bioweapon?” the Yuuzhan Vong asked. “The tizowyrm does not understand that word.” “It’s a virus,” Zeyn told them. “It turns the infected into cyborgs, harvesting parts of their bodies and turning them into mechanical implants.” Immediately, a murmur swept through the crowd and Zeyn recalled the Yuuzhan Vong’s intense hatred for machines and droids. Such a virus would be a heresy of the highest order to them, and he regretted his words. There was no telling what kind of reaction he had just evoked. “How do we know you are not lying, Jeedai?” another Yuuzhan Vong, a younger member of the warrior caste judging by his size and tattoos. “You speak of abominations.” “That’s a good word for it,” Zeyn retorted. “There’s thousands of people that were converted into mindless cyborgs on Belsavis by this thing, so yes, it’s an abomination. That’s why I came to warn you about it.” The Yuuzhan Vong leader stalked up to him. “You do not care for us, do you, Jeedai?” he asked. “I can tell.” Zeyn met the elder’s gaze. “No, I don’t,” he answered evenly. The elder started to circle him, a motion which made Zeyn very nervous, but he stood his ground even as he tensed, prepared for action. “Did you fight against us in the war?” the Yuuzhan Vong asked in a low hiss. Zeyn bit his lip, but there was no dodging the question. “Yes,” he admitted. “Then why do you come now with a warning?” the Yuuzhan Vong asked. Zeyn thought for a moment and the right words came to him. “The atrocities of that war would not be reconciled by more suffering,” he said evenly. “Even yours. At some point, the killing has to stop.” “So why are you so heavily armed?” the Yuuzhan Vong elder inquired, gesturing at his impressive array of weapons. Zeyn smirked. “Let’s just say that I expect to meet some disagreement on that last point,” he said. “I like to bring a strong argument.” The younger warrior stepped out of the crowd, and Zeyn noticed that he was wearing full vonduun crab armor and carried an amphistaff in spear-like fashion. Zeyn had fought enough of them in the Yuuzhan Vong War to know that a warrior with that equipment could be quite difficult to kill. “Enough of this,” he spat. “I say you are here to spread lies and discord among our people, to turn us against the Jeedai and Sekot, to make us doubt our homeworld’s protection. You will not succeed.” “I came with a warning,” Zeyn replied. “That’s all. What you do with it is up to you. Maybe you’re right and this planet can protect you from the threat. I hope so—but we felt it was important that you be warned.” “Your warning is heard, Jeedai,” the elder Yuuzhan Vong told him. “And now I give you a warning of your own.” Zeyn arched an eyebrow inquisitively as his fingers tightened around the blaster’s grip again. “Another Jeedai arrived yesterday in a neighboring settlement. She also brought a warning—that a group of fallen Jeedai and their Galactic Alliance allies were seeking to provoke us with lies so they could have an excuse to wipe us out and claim it for their own. She warned us about you.” Zeyn was sweating profusely, but a chill ran down his spine at the words the elder was telling him. “She’s lying,” he answered quickly. “We have no interest in taking your planet, or in wiping you out.” “Perhaps,” the Yuuzhan Vong said. “We shall see. You are adversaries?” “Seems that way,” Zeyn quipped. “Was she Wroonian? Eh . . . blue skinned?” “No,” the Yuuzhan Vong replied. “She appeared human to us, garbed similarly to you.” “I still say he is lying,” the younger warrior added. “You are not the one to make that decision, Tisran Shac. The best person to determine the truth would be Sekot,” the elder offered. “The planet itself. Or perhaps the Magister, the leader of the Ferroan and Langhesi who live on this world.” Zeyn shook his head. “I don’t have time for that,” he said. “I have to find someone, a human scientist named Danni Quee.” The elder Yuuzhan Vong gave him an amused smile. “The other Jeedai is looking for this human also,” he said. “We also sent her to find the Magister, in hopes that either the Magister or Sekot would determine the truth of her claim.” Suddenly, another Yuuzhan Vong came running up to the crowd bearing a villip, the living communication devices that the Yuuzhan Vong employed. The elder turned to address the new arrival. “What is it, Tahkra Dhal?” he asked. The other Yuuzhan Vong replied in his own tongue, which Zeyn didn’t understand, but he was clearly distraught. Finally, the elder Yuuzhan Vong whirled back towards Zeyn. “The other Jeedai escaped the Magister’s settlements,” he said in Basic. “She has disappeared into the tampasi, leaving several killed and wounded behind her.” “Tampasi?” “The . . . I do not know the word for it in Basic. It is a mass grouping of the boras and the other plants that occupy much of the land on this world.” “Forest?” Zeyn tried. The Yuuzhan Vong seemed unsatisfied, but nodded reluctantly. “That word seems insufficient, but it is close enough.” “In any case, I think you have your answer on who’s telling the truth,” Zeyn replied. “So it would seem,” the Yuuzhan Vong answered. “If this attacker is still out there, then it’s imperative that I find Danni Quee first,” Zeyn said. “Can you help me?” Asking a Yuuzhan Vong for help was a first for Zeyn, and the words felt foreign on his tongue, but he was desperately short of resources with which to find her. Having local help would go a long way towards keeping her alive. The Yuuzhan Vong was slow to speak. “What is your name, Jeedai?” he asked. “Zeyn.” “I have seen your face before, on a recording villip, Zeyn,” the elder told him. “Many years ago.” Zeyn tensed again, unsure of which direction the conversation was heading. “You were at the world called Rishi,” the Yuuzhan Vong said. It was not a question. “Yes,” Zeyn replied. Something dark glinted in the Yuuzhan Vong’s eyes, but he appeared reflective rather than aggressive. “My name is Niull Shac,” the Yuuzhan Vong elder told him. “My sister was killed by your people.” Zeyn had no answer for that, but the Yuuzhan Vong continued. “She died in battle, and your people sent back her remains to us so she could be honored properly. They did not have to do that—most of our foes did not do that.” Now Zeyn recognized the warrior being referenced—Milya had told him the story about how she had confronted and killed a small group of Yuuzhan Vong warriors that had followed her and Cassi to Atlaradis. She also still had the remnants of the scars from that battle. “I guess it seemed like the proper thing to do,” Zeyn answered. “It was honorable,” Niull Shac said in his rasping guttural voice. “I had no desire to lose my sister, but I will not hold her death against you any more than you should hold the deaths of your comrades at Rishi against us. She was honored properly after death in battle, according to our ways, and your people gave us that respect and dignity. For this reason, I will help you find the human you seek.” Cruiser Daara’sherum There was only one person in the ship’s confined gym at the moment. She was currently hanging from the pull-up bar, willing herself to finish the set despite her trembling arms and the sweat that soaked her body and clothes. Gritting her teeth, she persevered, hauling herself bodily up until her head cleared the bar five more times. Then, she dropped from the bar and found an unoccupied place on the mat to start on a set of push-ups. She was consciously not using the Force, nor was she focused on anything but her workout regimen, so she did not notice the two older people observing her from the second-floor balcony overlooking the gym. “She shows considerable resilience,” Selu observed. “She is not quite ready,” Cassi replied. Selu gave his sister-in-law a sidelong glance. “How ready does she need to be?” he asked her. “I haven’t heard back from Zeyn or Milya and Jedi Tainer or Ryion in the last week. Morgedh learned that Shara had already left Chalacta and is heading to Bespin for the final leg back to Yanibar—he’s heading that way now, but she’s in the wind. We’re running low on Force-users here, Cassi—it’s just me, Qedai, and Master Katarn right now—and you and Qedai should have already been back on Yanibar.” “Qedai doesn’t need to accompany me back,” Cassi told him. “I’m sure you have more pressing matters for her to handle.” “Not so fast,” Selu cut her off firmly. “Qedai is going with you.” Cassi was about to argue, but his comlink chirped. Selu gestured for her to hold onto whatever thought she was about to vocalize as he activated the device. “This is Selu Kraen,” he said. He waited a minute for the comm officer to explain the situation, then nodded. “Patch him through.” Selu listened for several minutes, replying only in monosyllables. Finally, he closed the comlink and returned it to his pocket. “That was Ryion,” he explained. “He’s fine.” Cassi breathed a sigh of relief. “How come we haven’t heard from him since the attack?” “Apparently he was traced and his ship and gear were destroyed,” Selu replied. “He’s been stranded on Rhinnal for nearly two weeks. We’ll set course for Rhinnal immediately. “Master Kraen,” a voice called to Selu from across the hall. Selu turned to see Kyle Katarn striding swiftly towards him, flanked by the two Yanibar Guard naval security troopers required by protocol, not that two troopers posed much of a threat to a Jedi Master. “Master Katarn, what is it?” Selu asked. “The Jedi Order has just received a distress call from Dathomir,” the Jedi Master told him. “And still no word from Skywalker.” “What kind of distress call?” Selu inquired grimly. “Something about rumors of a small ship that touched down in the wild. A hunting party went missing near where it landed—the bodies were found yesterday, killed by metal-slug projectiles. The Dathomiri trackers couldn’t locate the killer with the Force, but judging from the tracks, they believe they’re after a humanoid.” “Seems likely Ariada’s heading there as well,” Selu said with a scowl. “It has lots of Force-sensitives on it, and an old shipwreck of a Jedi training vessel also.” “It’s not that far,” Kyle pointed out. “Fine,” Selu said huffily. “I’ll just have to send someone to pick up Ryion later since we won’t be able to get him.” “Qedai could—,” Cassi suggested. “No,” Selu said firmly. “You and Qedai are heading back to Yanibar before we jump to Dathomir. It’s not safe for you here now.” Cassi initially started to argue, but the look in Selu’s eyes told her that he’d made his decision. She wasn’t happy with the outcome, but she trusted him enough to know that he was looking after her best interests. “Why are so insistent on sending us away?” Cassi asked. “Because I need someone on Yanibar to explain the situation to the Council, and I couldn’t think of someone better able to make people understand than you. As for Qedai, I need her on Yanibar in case Ariada strikes us while we’re out distracted in the greater galaxy. One of us must protect our world,” Selu told her. Cassi nodded slowly. “I understand,” she said. “We could stop by and pick up Ryion on the way.” “You’d either have to bring him back here or take him back to Yanibar with you,” Selu answered with a frown. “It’s not particularly efficient, and I’m concerned about leaving Yanibar vulnerable for so long.” “So let me do it,” a new voice interrupted from behind him. Selu turned to see Jaina Solo standing there, still wearing the Yanibar Guard t-shirt and loose pants that she’d been exercising in. She’d clearly just finished her workout and had been listening in to their conversation. “Excuse me, Jedi Solo?” Selu asked. “I can retrieve Ryion,” Jaina told him easily as she leaned on one of the bulkheads. “Let me borrow a ship and I’ll pick him up, then meet you guys wherever. That way Cassi can get back home and I can get back into the fight. Everyone wins.” “Jaina, are you sure?” Cassi asked. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? You’ve just recovered.” “My family’s missing, and there’s a Dark Jedi out there causing trouble,” Jaina answered. “I appreciate everything, Cassi, but I’m healed, and I’m ready to get back into the thick of things.” Selu turned to Master Katarn. “Master Katarn?” he asked. Katarn shrugged. “I trust her if she says she’s ready,” he told her. “The final decision is up to you, though—it’s your mission and your ship.” Selu took a moment to appraise the Jedi standing in front of him. Finally, satisfied that she no longer bore the unhealed wounds and scars that had marred her body and psyche two weeks prior, he nodded slowly. “I think you may be right, Jedi Solo,” he said. “I’ll have the ship made ready for you in the forward docking bay. You can outfit yourself at the gear locker there as well—Qedai will show you.” “Thanks,” Jaina replied. “Be ready in two hours,” Selu told her. “On my way,” she told him as she turned to leave. On her way out, she called one last remark over her shoulder. “Oh, and you can call me Jaina too.”
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