| abstract
| - Zeyn led the way into the cave, Danni following along behind him. His sides were on fire from two hours of virtually non-stop running, adrenaline and the Force keeping him moving, away from the horrific slaughterhouse of the village. Danni was barely upright, completely fatigued from the exertion and gasping for breath. “In here,” Zeyn told her tersely as he entered, holding his carbine one-handed with the glowlamp activated as he led them into the cave. His left wrist was throbbing inside the crude improvised splint, but he knew that they weren’t out of danger yet. His boots splashed as he stepped down into water and the rays from his glowrod swept through a fine mist circulating above the cave. “Hold up,” Zeyn said. Advancing cautiously, he checked the depth of the water, which increased with every step. The first step had swallowed his ankles. Three more left him submerged up to his knees. Five steps in, he was wading at waist level. The water was cold, but not unbearably so. The humid air of Zonama Sekot mixing with the chilled water was no doubt responsible for the mist. Zeyn took one more cautious step, but found a shelf along one rocky wall which the water stayed about a meter deep. “This way,” he told her. “It’s going to be cold.” As she made her way over to him, Zeyn swept his blaster’s barrel with the affixed glowrod around the cavern. Its smooth walls were in the shape of a shallow arch twenty meters into the cave, no doubt due to the steady erosion of the water. There was no telling how far back it went. A few stalactites protruded here and there, while the sides and floor and ceiling were fairly smooth. The light from his glowrod diffusing through the water was reflected back onto the walls and ceiling in chaotic tendrils that undulated and writhed with each passing second. “Get behind me,” he instructed Danni. She wordlessly scooted around him, following the rock shelf as she waded to his left side, giving him a clear view of the entrance. Zeyn put his back on the wall, following its slight curve, and sighted in on the mouth of the cave. “Do you know far back this goes?” he asked her. “Not far,” she said. “It widens out about another dozen meters up. I’ve been here once before.” “Is there any other way in?” She shook her head. “No,” she said. “This is the only way in or out.” “Well, at least we know which way she’ll come for us from,” Zeyn remarked acerbically. “Can you hide us again, like you did last night?” “No,” Zeyn answered shortly, his strength depleted. Just getting here had been taxing enough. “So what now?” Danni asked, having finally caught her breath. “We wait,” Zeyn said. “I doubt we can run much farther tonight, and I’m not taking my chances in the tampasi being hunted.” “Do you think we’re being hunted?” Danni asked. Zeyn was silent, his mind running through various tactical scenarios as he kept a vigilant eye on the cave’s entrance. “I suppose that’s a stupid question; I’m sorry,” Danni answered. She began rummaging through her pack, retrieving a pair of protein bars. “You should have one of these,” she told him.” “You eat,” Zeyn told her. “I have to keep watch on the entrance and my left hand isn’t useable right now.” Danni wordlessly unwrapped one of the bars and held it up to his lips. Zeyn took the hint and bit off a chunk, savoring the sweet taste. His stomach growled as his body caught whiff of possible nourishment and demanded more. Danni allowed him to chew and then peeled back more of the wrapper so he could take another bite, continuing the process until he had finished. She held up the canteen as well so he could drink, but Zeyn only allowed himself to sip the water instead of gulping it down so he could maintain his watch. Once he’d finished, she dug into her own protein bar. Zeyn kept his sights trained in on the cave’s mouth, but neither saw nor heard anything other than Danni slurping water from the canteen and chewing bites of her protein bar. “Thank you,” Zeyn said in a whisper. “You’re welcome,” she replied. “It’s the least I could do.” “No,” Zeyn shook his head. “After what happened back there, you don’t owe me anything.” “I don’t know what came over me,” Danni answered. “I just felt the Force surge up within me, in a way I haven’t felt it in many years. I felt . . . compelled to act, like the power had suddenly flowed into me and I had to use it.” “You saved my life,” Zeyn told her. “We’re saving each other,” Danni reminded him. They fell silent again by mutual unspoken agreement. Zeyn maintained his vigil on the dark entrance of the cave, his senses alert, while Danni leaned back against the cave wall, trying to take some of the weight off her tired feet. “At first the water felt nice on my toes, but now it’s just chilling,” she said. “Don’t sit down,” Zeyn replied. “It’ll just sap your strength faster. You can stay close to me if that keeps you warmer.” She huddled up against his back, careful not to brush his injured left wrist. “Did you ever think it would end like this?” she asked him in a hoarse whisper. Zeyn arched an eyebrow. “Hmm?” “On a strange world, far from home, pursued by a ruthless enemy,” Danni said. “Is that how you pictured your life ending?” “We’re not dead yet,” Zeyn answered after considering the matter for several seconds. “No reason to think like that.” Danni rested her head against his back and contemplated for another several seconds. “If you get a chance to escape, you should leave me,” she said. “Return to your people—talk to your mother again. Tell her you love her.” “That’s not going to happen,” Zeyn answered firmly. “We go together.” “You have another life out there waiting for you, Zeyn,” she said. “You should spend it with the people who love you, with your family. Don’t waste it on me.” “It’s not a waste,” he told her. “My orders are to protect you, and that is what I am going to do.” “Your orders aren’t doing you very much good out here,” Danni answered. “Zeyn, if you see an opening, I want you to take it. You’ll have a better chance on your own than trying to protect me.” “Danni, I appreciate the gesture, but I did not come all this way to give up now,” he replied sternly. “I will complete my mission.” “At what cost?” she asked. “I keep thinking of your mother—how she might never have a chance to reconcile with you.” Zeyn tensed. “You shouldn’t spend your thoughts on my mother,” he answered stiffly. “Someone should,” she said. “Zeyn, I want you to promise me to speak with her when you return to Yanibar.” Zeyn growled. “That is not a fair request,” he grumbled. “You do not know my mother.” “I’ll go with you,” she offered. “Then I’ll get to know her.” “Then you have to stay alive,” he pointed out. “No self-sacrificing heroics.” “I guess you’ll have to get both of us to Yanibar alive,” she replied. “Promise?” Zeyn sighed. “I promise,” he said, if only to get her to drop the subject. “Though I can’t guarantee it’ll be on Yanibar.” “Does your mother live somewhere else?” “She might by the time we get back,” Zeyn answered grimly. “Yanibar is a doomed world.” “I’m sorry,” Danni said. “Did Ariada contaminate it?” “Not Ariada. The Yuuzhan Vong,” Zeyn said. “You’re familiar with their use of dovin basals to alter the orbits of moons.” Danni blanched. “Zeyn, I’m so sorry,” she said. “We found it in time to keep the moon from colliding with Yanibar, but the destabilized orbit amplified the moon’s gravitational effects. The planet is nearly uninhabitable and my people are in the process of evacuating.” He glanced over at her, then sighed. “It’s not going well,” he admitted, feeling that opening up to her helped ease the emotional burden of knowing the dilemma that Yanibar faced. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are your people looking for a new home?” “No, it’s not that,” he said. “Last I talked to my uncle, who’s in charge of the process, the evacuation ships we built are having a hard time getting off of the ground fully loaded,” Zeyn answered. “There isn’t enough power or thrust to get everyone off, and if we can’t lift off fully loaded . . . we won’t be able to bring everyone.” “I’m sure your people will find a way,” Danni answered. “If they’re anything like you, I have every reason to be confident in their future.” He fell silent, accepting the compliment at face value. Nothing stirred around them as they hid in their cave. Several minutes ticked by. “You should get some sleep,” Zeyn told her. “I know it’s hard in this water, but at least close your eyes and rest.” “Good idea,” Danni replied. “I don’t think I could run another kilometer.” Zeyn nodded grimly at the cave’s entrance. “There won’t be any running this time if we’re found,” he said. “Only one way in or out. We fight or die.” Yanibar The stalks of the deyna grain were dry as she brushed her hand through them. The wind whipped across the plains, stirring the stalks as if they were a wave in a stormy ocean. She knelt down to touch the ground, feeling the hardened, cracking dirt. It was only a few weeks before the harvest, and the deyna was in danger of burning up from the parching heat—assuming that a groundquake didn’t swallow it or a thunderstorm didn’t ignite a prairie fire. The success of this last growing season hinged on Yanibar’s weather, already inhospitable before Yorbinal’s orbit had been altered, now rendered outright fierce. They’d already lost most of the spelt to a violent hailstorm. Such was the lot of a farmer’s wife. She straightened, allowing the wind to tug at the ponytail she’d tied her long brown hair into, as she remembered her first expeditions into the wide expanses of Yanibar beyond the refuge over twenty-one years ago. The years of living on the rugged exterior, lacking the shelter of the refuge and its weather control machines, had taken their toll on her, and her once-flawless complexion had been supplanted by skin aged and worn by arid heat, furrowed with wrinkles and crow’s feet. She heard another set of footsteps crunch through the field toward her, and the heavier footfall told her who it was. She let him approach to stand behind her, his arms encircling her waist. “What are you doing out here, Rhinny?” her husband asked. “I wanted to know how the deyna was doing,” she replied, resting her head on his broad chest. “I wanted to know what we’d have to bring with us for the trip into the refuge.” “About that,” Kavlis Burke replied hesitantly. “Just received word that the final votes have been tallied. The majority decided to go to Naos.” Rhiannon frowned, clearly disturbed by the news. “Naos?” she asked. “Kavlis, how can that be? That was supposed to be an alternate. We were supposed to approach the people of the refuge and journey with them to Atlaradis.” “That’s not what the majority decided,” Kavlis told her gently. “I’m sorry.” Rhiannon turned to face him. “Why?” she asked him pleadingly. “Didn’t they listen to you?” “They did,” Kavlis reassured her. “I told them what you passed on about Atlaradis, but Naos sent representatives that made a better offer. They’re willing to help defray some of the relocation costs and provide some equipment to get our farms started, as well as provide land and good loans. Seems they’ve had a labor shortage ever since a bunch of refugees left their planet after the Vong War. I can see the appeal.” “You don’t believe Naos is a better world for us, do you?” she asked him. “I believe it’s a good world,” Kavlis replied. “I haven’t seen Atlaradis.” Rhiannon shook her head and stepped away from him to face out across the plains. “So everyone’s going to Naos.” “Where else would we go?” Kavlis asked. “Those who already had somewhere else to go have pretty much left already. The Erskols, the Hanichats, the Rulans . . .” “I remember,” Rhiannon said. “I remember how angry they were when the refuge sent its representatives to inform the settlements what had happened.” “Can’t say I blame them,” Kavlis replied. “What happened to Yorbinal was not their fault!” Rhiannon replied. Kavlis stepped to stand in front of her and took her hands in his rough, callused ones. “I know it isn’t, Rhinny,” he said. “But I know that’s who they blame. That’s why they reached out to Naos. They don’t trust the refuge.” “They trust you,” she told him. “Shouldn’t that have been enough?” Kavlis pursed his lips together. “Not everyone believes in me the way you do,” he said. “Well, they should,” Rhiannon answered bitterly. “What will you do?” Kavlis raised her hands to his lips, kissing her hands gently. Despite the affection, a sinking feeling began growing in Rhiannon’s stomach. “You want to go with them, don’t you?” she asked him, her voice a haggard whisper. Kavlis didn’t immediately answer. It hurt him to see his wife conflicted, and he had wrestled with this same question for weeks now. “Kavlis, you’d rather go to Naos, wouldn’t you?” Rhiannon asked him again. “Rhinny . . . ,” he started to explain. “Don’t . . . please,” she said. “Just tell me.” “Rhinny, all of our friends are going to Naos,” he said. “Our son’s fiancé is one of them. Aurelise’s friend, the Davinor boy, and his family are going. My extended relatives are going. Those are our people.” A hot tear slid down her cheek. “And what of my family?” she asked. Kavlis’s voice caught on a lump in his throat. He wanted to remind her that her family and friends only visited a few times a year, that they no longer considered her part of their community. Part of him knew that was a gross exaggeration, that Rhiannon’s family loved her dearly, but he also could not ignore their self-imposed isolation. His mind was made up on Naos, except for the fact that Rhiannon was heartbroken by the news. There was nothing he could say to console her, so instead he drew her close and hugged her tightly. “They will always love you,” he told her. “But so do the people out here.” He brushed one of the tears away from her cheek as gently as his brawny hand could manage. “Rhinny, when I brought you out here, I never thought it would come to this,” he said. “But I can’t start over again, and I can’t ask our children to do so either. Could you ask that of them?” “No,” she admitted hoarsely. “But this is a mistake, beloved. The stories my Aunt Cassi tells of Atlaradis . . .” “I’m sure it’s a wonderful place,” Kavlis replied. “Better than Naos, even. But not for us.” Rhiannon shook her head silently, more tears spilling from her eyes. “Rhinny, you know that I would rather face hardship with the people I love than paradise with strangers,” Kavlis said. “But I also know they’re not strangers to you.” He hugged her tight. “Would you still rather go to Atlaradis?” he whispered in her ear. “Kav, you said I couldn’t ask that of you . . .” Rhiannon replied. “Just tell me,” he said, mirroring her earlier words. She reached up to stroke his face. “Not if it meant leaving you, or the children,” she said. “You are my greatest love, and I will go wherever you lead. Even to Naos. That was the choice I made when I married you twenty-one years ago.” “And your family?” Kavlis asked. “They will not understand,” Rhiannon answered. “But then again, they never really have.” “I don’t want to force this on you,” Kavlis told her. “I don’t want you to be miserable.” Rhiannon blinked away the tears. “My place will always be at your side, beloved,” she told him. “And my first job is to love you,” Kavlis answered, his voice thick with heartfelt concern. “If this divides us, then it’s not worth it.” She started to speak, but Kavlis held a finger to her lips. “I’ve already told the children,” he said. “I didn’t ask them to give me an answer immediately, and I don’t want you to give me one either. I want you to go back to your parents and think it over, hear their perspective. It’s only fair. Aurelise is packing you a bag and Tavin’s warming up the speeder. We have almost a month until the transports leave for Naos, so take as long as you need.” “But what about the harvest, and the—?” “We’ll take care of it,” Kavlis assured her. “This is my choice.” He kissed her forehead lovingly, then took a step back, her hands still resting in his. Rhiannon tried to say “thank you,” but the words couldn’t escape her, so she simply flung herself onto him, hugging him as tightly as she could, fresh tears falling from her unseeing eyes. “I know,” Kavlis said. “I love you.” He held her for several minutes, until she finally released him. Once again, he swept the tears from her eyes and kissed her cheek. “Have a good trip, Rhinny,” he said. She nodded, then turned and headed back towards their farmhouse, where her second son, Tavin, was in the garage. He was tall, like his father, though he had her slender build and his features seemed more delicate than her oldest son, Tamaron. She had always understood Tavin better than Tamaron, for while Tamaron was the spitting image of his father in body and mind, Tavin had inherited some of her own inquisitiveness and imagination that at times seemed alien to his father and brother. “Are you okay, Mom?” he asked. “No,” she replied honestly. “But I’ll manage for now. Is the speeder ready?” “Yes,” he said. “Dad said you were going back Inside?” “That’s right,” she said. “You can drive me to Draskar and I’ll meet someone there to take me Inside.” “Actually . . .” Tavin answered. “Dad wanted me to go with you.” “Did he say why?” Rhiannon asked. Tavin’s voice was slightly hesitant in his reply. “He didn’t want you to be alone,” he said. “Aurelise and Tamaron both have obligations out here—they want to go Naos anyway. Me? I’m keeping an open mind. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to see where you used to live.” Rhiannon managed a small smile despite the turmoil within her. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she told him. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.” Knightfall Shara huddled in the corner of the cell she’d been tossed into. It was small, dark, and cramped, with little to distinguish it other than a cold steel bench that also served as a bed. The walls and floor were of the same solid gray metal, while the translucent teal haze of a force field barred the entrance, preventing her from escaping. She did not know how long she had been kept as a prisoner, nor where she was other than a vague awareness of being deep inside the bowels of Ariada’s ship. She hadn’t spoken to anyone for what seemed like hours since Ariada had paraded her in front of Selu and Ryion. Her freshly-reattached finger throbbed, and she was both weary and hungry, but dared not call out for attention. From what Ryion had told her of Ariada, there was no reason to expect mercy from her captors. She hugged her knees close to her chest, trying to stay warm in the chilled cell. The thin shift she’d been given was little help in the cold environment and she shivered from the cold. “Cold, is it?” a menacing voice hissed from the darkness. Shara shrank back into the corner of the cell as she saw what appeared to be almost a palpable shroud swallow the gloomy light from outside the cell. A pair of glowing yellow eyes, narrow and glaring, shone through the inky blackness, directing their malicious gaze on her. Shara did her best to meet the terrible stare, but the pure venom in the expression caused her to avert her eyes after only a few seconds. “Why are you doing this to me?” Shara asked. The chuckle that replied was completely devoid of mirth. Rather, it reminded Shara of a pittin toying with its prey. Shara suddenly felt her throat constrict, choking her. Her hands went to her throat, but the tightening of her windpipe continued, as if an invisible chain was strangling her. She gurgled, her head pounding as its blood flow was constricted. “You don’t ask the questions,” the sibilant, evil whisper replied. “You are an inferior creature, unworthy of addressing me. Unworthy of him.” Shara felt the invisible hand release and collapsed to the ground, coughing and wheezing as she tried to breathe. “Ryion . . . loves me,” she managed in between huge gulps of air. “Oh, I’m sure he does,” Ariada replied, stepping forward so she could look down on Shara and dropping her affected voice. “I’m counting on that.” Shara looked up at Ariada from her prone position on the ground, terror evident in her eyes. “What do you want with him?” “Ryion has disrupted enough of my plans to prove an annoyance,” Ariada said. “I tried to let him go, but he wouldn’t stop chasing me!” Anger crept into her voice, cold fury that spoke of premeditated determination. “Ryion has a choice,” she said, controlling herself again. “He can surrender himself to me, and I will deal with him, or you will die a horrible death.” “What will that accomplish?” Shara asked. “Didn’t you love him at one time, too? Why would you do that to him?” “He has given me no other choice,” Ariada answered coldly. “I warned him not to interfere, but he disregarded me. Now, two that I love are dead, and you and Morgedh and perhaps more on Yanibar must suffer the consequences.” “So he doesn’t mean anything to you . . . ?” Shara replied quietly. Ariada stiffened. “Once he did,” she said. “But he died to me the day he chose his constricting, narrow-minded principles over me. I made sacrifices to save the galaxy, to help save him and the rest of his people. Instead, he stood by and watched in condemnation.” “Then you want revenge on him?” Ariada laughed mockingly. “Such misconceptions of pettiness,” she replied, then her laughter subsided, returning her voice to a sinister whisper. “Ryion is an obstacle to a greater work, nothing more, and soon he shall be removed.” “I would not underestimate him,” Shara replied. “Underestimate Ryion Kraen?” Ariada scoffed bitingly. “You must think me imbecile. I knew Ryion Kraen on a level you’ll never understand or appreciate or experience. The Force bound us together, and that is something far beyond your comprehension.” Ariada scowled as she realized that Shara had been subliminally directing the conversation. “I give you credit for being manipulative and devious enough to have me answer your questions,” she said. “But don’t savor your small victory too long.” “Any victory against evil is to be savored,” Shara answered defiantly. Ariada held up a hand and suddenly Shara was thrust back into the metal bench, the invisible fist squeezing her throat once more. “I’m not doing this out of petty spite,” Ariada told her as she struggled in vain to breathe. “For the moment, this part of the ship can be sensed in the Force, which means Ryion can sense you.” She released Shara, who collapsed limply to the floor, her strength depleted from oxygen deprivation. Ariada lowered the force field and entered the cell to kneel down by Shara until her face was only a dozen centimeters from Shara’s head as she lay on her side, gasping for breath. “He can feel when you’re in pain, can’t he?” Ariada whispered evilly. She ran one finger down Shara’s temple in a toying gesture that made her skin crawl. Shara’s eyes went wide with terror. “You don’t need to do this,” she wheezed. “Ryion will come for me.” “Oh yes, he will,” Ariada replied. “But I want his head filled with worry and concern for you, or else outrage and fury at my actions. Both of those I can use, and I’d prefer that he not spend the entire trip plotting my downfall.” She clasped one of her hands to the side of Shara’s head. “Please,” Shara gasped. “It’s necessary,” Ariada said simply. She exerted herself in the Force and Shara’s vision was flooded with images, sensations, that were not her own. She was floating in some kind of thick transparent liquid. She gurgled and struggled to swim to the top, trying to catch her breath, when suddenly jolts of electricity began surging through the liquid. The shocks seared and scorched her as they ran up and down her body in indescribable agony. Her vision burst with colors and she thrashed around involuntarily. The electricity left her convulsing and she would have screamed her voice hoarse had she not been submerged. Her entire existence was replaced with unending pain. It seemed like she was subjected to the ordeal for hours on end, though when her vision returned to gaze at the floor of the cell, she was vaguely aware that it had only been a few minutes. She was trembling, her tortured mind unable to control her limbs or evidently her bladder. “I know what you felt,” Ariada whispered in her ear. “Because I felt it, and worse, ten years ago.” Shara remained catatonic and glassy-eyed. “I take no joy in reliving that moment, or in causing you to share in that pain,” Ariada told her. “But now you have a taste of what I endured, of how I suffered.” Ariada rose to loom over Shara, a towering black figure overlooking a helpless captive. “Know this: I would endure it again to complete my mission. I have seen what is coming, and it is far worse than anything I have done. The galaxy must rise against the Jedi Order and its supporters to stop their endless conflagration. Ryion and his family have blocked me long enough, and now, they must be stopped.” Ariada turned and strode out of the cell, re-activating the force field, though Shara was in no state to sit up, much less escape. “Amazing how the mind can persuade the body of what it sees,” she remarked coldly as she stopped for one last comment. “Of how simply planting a memory led your mind to believe it had been subjected to the same duress. Fascinating.” Then, she stalked out of the detention area into the gloomy darkness, a wicked smile spreading across her face. She had sensed Ryion reach out to Shara during her distress and knew that he had gotten the point. Hopefully, it would destabilize him so she could deal with him and Jaina. Ariada had already toyed with the latter’s mind when she’d crashed on Belsavis, intercepting her subconscious mental attempts to reach her brother and partner and twisting them. If the Force was with her, the two would be unnerved enough to be subdued. Ariada had devised a new plan that would both eliminate them as a threat and create a possible new avenue to stave off the coming chaos. As her efforts had been increasingly thwarted, she had known that she needed an alternate, and this riskier venture would prove her boldest gambit of all, as well as the most desperate. She needed to rest, to prepare herself mentally for her pending encounter with Ryion and Jaina. However, first, she had one final message to send. She held up her comlink and activated it. “Captain Toscerra,” she said. “Aye, Mistress?” came the immediate, obedient reply. “Prepare a message for secure transmission to the Galactic Alliance. Address it to Chief of State Omas.” Ariada scowled as she said the man’s name. A pity he had lived. If he’d been eliminated, she was sure that his successor would have been much more pliant. Still, the man was no fool; he’d know she wasn’t bluffing. The Galactic Alliance would do as it was told, for the consequences of crossing her were too horrifying to even contemplate. Soon, the communications array was ready for her. Ariada straightened the long black cassock she was wearing and stepped towards the holocam, halting just short. “Are we fully secure?” she asked. “Yes, Mistress,” Captain Toscerra assured her. “Good,” she said. Striding into view, she assumed a sinister, confident expression. She had to convey the proper menace to the Galactic Alliance, to convince them that she was capable of horrific action if her demands were not met. Ariada knew that with the dangers she had seen, that her spies were reporting, the amount of time she had to finish her plans to fracture the Jedi Order from the Galactic Alliance was contingent on how well she sold this threat. “Chief of State Omas, my name is Ariada Cerulaen. I assume you know of me, or at least you’re familiar with my work. You should also know that I don’t make idle threats. There are four bombs on Coruscant laced with a virus that I believe you have been acquainted with. If unleashed, they can trigger millions of deaths, possibly billions, as well as mass hysteria. Even the threat of such a pandemic would spark pandemonium in the towers of Coruscant. Furthermore, I have left another surprise on Bespin’s Cloud City. These devices can all be detonated remotely on my command or if inadvertently triggered. If you’re expecting an unreasonable demand right now, don’t worry. All I want is for the Galactic Alliance to stop hunting me. Call off your warships and your intelligence services, and I will give you the location of the bombs within the month. Pursue me, and I can guarantee you this: I will devastate Coruscant.” Ariada glared at the holocam one last time for effect, then signaled to terminate the transmission. “Encrypt and send it,” she snapped, tired from the demands of having to properly convey such a horrifying ultimatum. “Yes, Mistress,” Captain Toscerra told her obediently. Ariada stalked off to her sanctum. “A well-constructed message,” Aspra Serpaddis told her as he slithered up alongside her. “Let us hope the Galactic Alliance is equally impressed,” Ariada retorted. “Is the ship ready for Ryion and Jaina?” “Of course,” he hissed. “Will they come.” “They will,” she said. “But they will attempt subversion and deceit. We must be on our guard.” “And what of those of the Nine that you have sent out on missions?” he asked. “You are spending them too readily, Ariada.” She bit her lip nervously, the first crack in her confident exterior. Her head bowed, her hair acting as a curtain. “I know,” she said solemnly. “How many?” he asked. Ariada forced herself to remain calm against the sadness welling up within her at the thought of what had been lost. What she had sacrificed for the sake of their cause. She was not quite at the point of regret, but her fervor and convictions did not fully diminish the ache she felt at the passing of her devoted acolytes. “We lost Night Pearl on Bespin. I sensed Durindfire did not survive her mission on Yanibar—she was killed at what should have been her moment of triumph. Emerald disappeared on Almania—I cannot sense her, but she may be in hiding. Sapphire is still recovering.” “These are great losses,” Aspra Serpaddis told her simply. “I know!” Ariada answered him angrily. “They cut me just as deep as they do you, to see their futures stifled and cut short. I should have foreseen better.” “Perhaps there was nothing you could have done,” the Thisspiassian replied. “I refuse to accept that,” she said flatly. “Leave me. I must meditate.” He bowed and slithered away. Deeply troubled, Ariada retreated to her inner sanctum, seating herself on the black chair that dominated the center of the room. There, she closed her eyes and let the dark side fill her. Focusing and shaping the darkness, she turned to it for power, using it to see the future. A chill ran down her spine as the images coalesced into horrifying possibilities. “How . . . ?” she whispered to herself. “How can I stop this?”
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