Star Wars Riptide

SEER SAT IN THE COCKPIT, STARING OUT, DURING THEIR entire time in hyperspace. Her silence unnerved Soldier. She eyed the starstreaks, unblinking, as if they hid something revelatory in their glow. He occupied himself by running diagnostics on the ship’s systems while he waited for the computer to tell him they were nearing Fhost.

In time it did, and he said, “Coming out of hyperspace.”

Seer finally looked away from the view outside and fixed her gaze on him. He could not shake the feeling that she saw right through him. The zeal of a true believer filled her dark eyes. Or maybe it was madness; Soldier could not distinguish them.

“Well done, Soldier,” she said.

They came out of hyperspace, black overwrote blue, and the light of a nearby star painted the interior of the cockpit in orange. The ion engines engaged and they accelerated through the system.

Soldier had no idea what to expect on-planet.

“The data on Fhost show it to be sparsely populated, with only one large city—Farpoint. We’ll go in on the far side of the planet and circle around. There’s not much infrastructure. We should be able to avoid detection. I’ll set us down outside of the city and some of us can head in.”

Seer nodded, lost in thought, or maybe lost in another vision, as they closed on the planet.

Fhost floated in the space before them, a mostly brown ball dotted with intermittent spots of green and blue. Hazy clouds floated in long, thin strings above the arid world. Soldier guided the cloakshape around to the far side of the planet. He kept his eyes on the scanners, wondering if they’d be interdicted, wondering what he would do if they were, but either they passed into the atmosphere unnoticed or the planetary authorities saw them and did not care.

He took the cloakshape down and flew low and fast along Fhost’s surface. He could make out little detail, blurs of green and brown and blue. Still, he found it beautiful, a stark contrast to the frozen hell that had been their lives for so long. He wondered what it would be like to simply settle on such a world and just … live.

He imagined Grace and Blessing as adults, living in a normal dwelling, living normal lives. The thought made him smile. He cleared his throat, ventured a heretical thought.

“We could just … settle here,” he said. He wasn’t sure Seer heard him.

“She is calling us, Soldier,” Seer said, her voice singsong. “She wants us home. We must hurry.”

Her words dispelled any thoughts of a life lived in quietude.

After a time, the HUD showed Farpoint a bit over fifty kilometers ahead. He sought a suitable landing spot. There were no signs off habitation nearby, so he slowed and settled the cloakshape in a large clearing in the center of a wood.

“I’ll get what meds I can and come back as fast as I can,” he said. “I’ll need help, though.”

Seer said nothing. Though her eyes were open, she still seemed lost in a trance.

“Seer? Seer?”

He left her in the cockpit and headed to the cargo bay. The other clones had moved little since he’d last checked them. The medicine coated their minds with an artificial calm and dulled the pain of their bodies, but through their shared mental connection he could feel the growing madness in the adults, roiling underneath the surface. Absent the medication, he imagined, the ship would be chaos. The medicine would work for another hour or two, at most. Then the madness would assert itself, or the illness. Either way, there would be death. He had to move fast.

He went to each of the clones in turn, the children first, evaluating their physical state, opening his mind enough to get a better feel for their emotional condition. All were flush with fever, their breathing too rapid, their minds seething with anger, terror, power. Blessing, Grace, and Gift were catatonic. He lingered over them, feeling a sadness that hit him hard. He had to save them, them above all.

Runner seemed the least afflicted, so Soldier took an adrenaline hypo from the medical supplies and injected him with it. His eyes flew open, the pupils dilating, and fixed on Soldier. Dry, cracked lips formed a word.

“Soldier,” he said, his diction slurred.

“Are you able to stand? I need help to get meds.”

Runner seemed not to hear him. He closed his eyes, winced as if with pain. His mouth, nearly hidden in the brambles of his thick beard, twisted in agony.

“I can manage,” Runner said. “The power, Soldier …”

“I know.”

Since killing Maker, Soldier had bottled up the power within himself. But he still felt as if the cap might blow at any time. His body, all of their bodies, struggled to contain it.

He tried to help Runner sit up, but Runner shoved his hands away and sat up on his own.

“I don’t need you,” he snarled.

Soldier resisted the angry impulse to punch Runner in the face. “You’d already be dead if not for me. Now, listen. You and I are going to a medical facility nearby. We’re going to take the medicine we need to keep the Community alive.”

Runner’s glassy eyes shone. “Take it?”

“Yes, take it. Whatever we flew through when we left the moon accelerated the onset of the …” He almost said “madness,” but thought better of it and instead said, “… illness. We’ll need the meds or we’ll all die before we reach Mother.”

“Not you,” Runner said, as he stood. He stank of sweat, of fever, of sickness. “You won’t die.” He leered. “At least not from the illness.”

Soldier said nothing, merely stared into Runner’s fevered face.

Runner’s gaze took in the cargo bay, the clones. “Did you kill Scar and Maker?”

“I killed Maker because he gave me no choice. The illness killed Scar, and it will kill the rest of them, and you, if we don’t get what we need. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Runner found a flask of water among their supplies, drank, and wiped his beard. “They won’t let us take medicine, Soldier. They’ll try to stop us. We’ll have to kill them. Lots of them.”

“Maybe,” Soldier said, trying to ignore the eagerness he heard in Runner’s words. He, too, felt the impulse to violence, but he could control it. Runner, with the madness taking hold, could not. But Soldier needed him. A medical facility would be guarded, even on a backwater planet. He could not assault it alone.

“We should leave now,” Soldier said.

When he turned to go, he found himself face-to-face with Seer. Beside him, Runner fell to his knees, head bowed, and took Seer’s hand in his own.

“Everything you said was true, Seer. You’ve saved us. Saved us.”

“What I say are Mother’s words,” Seer said, her eyes on Soldier rather than Runner. “And those words are truth. And now I say that we all leave.”

Soldier gestured at the comatose clones. “They’re too sick to move, Seer. And someone should remain behind with them. You should. We shouldn’t leave the ship unguarded.”

Runner clambered to his feet, his eyes boring holes into Soldier. “You dare question her?”

“Shut your mouth,” Soldier said. Runner snarled.

“The ship is irrelevant,” Seer said. “We’re not taking it when we leave this world.”

For a moment Soldier could not frame a reply. He feared Seer was succumbing to madness, too, and he was profoundly conscious of the anger pouring off Runner.

Seer smiled at him, as if reading his thoughts.

When he spoke, he kept his tone even. “What ship are we taking, then?”

“The medical supply ship that will be arriving at the hospital,” she said.

Runner rocked on the balls of his feet, as if the power within him disallowed stillness, as if he could barely control whatever impulse sought expression. He still glared at Soldier.

“How do you know about a supply ship?” Soldier asked.

“The Force. Mother.”

“Blessed Mother,” Runner muttered, still rocking.

Seer’s eyes searched Soldier’s face. He thought she looked almost sad. “Do you believe, Soldier? Do you believe me?”

Soldier felt Runner’s burning eyes on him, the heat of his fever, his faith. His thoughts turned to Wry, the way the others had torn him apart, and he shifted his weight to distribute it evenly. If he had to draw his weapon, he’d need to be fast.

“You know what I believe,” he said.

She leaned in, smiling, all danger and beauty. “Yes, I do.”

“You’ve been right so far,” he said.

She smiled, nodded. “We take everyone who can still be saved. The rest we must leave. Their faith, sadly, was inadequate to save them.”

“They can all still be saved,” Soldier said. “We’re not leaving the children.”

“I know you love them,” Seer said. “It speaks well of you. But Blessing and Gift are almost gone. They cannot be saved. Only Grace will live to see Mother.”

“You’re wrong,” Soldier said. His hand went to his lightsaber hilt. He would kill Runner if he had to. But would he kill Seer? Could he?

“I’m not wrong,” Seer said. “And you know it. These were Mother’s words, Soldier. Do you doubt them?”

Soldier did not look away, but neither did he dare dispute with her. “I’m giving each of them an adrenaline shot. If they rouse, they come.”

Seer smiled. “That is acceptable.”

“I don’t need your permission,” Soldier said.

Runner growled, and Soldier whirled on him, went nose to nose. “Something you want to say? Or do?”

Runner stared at him with bloodshot eyes, his breath foul, his breathing heavy.

“See to your shots, Soldier,” Seer said. “It will be as I said.”

Soldier left off Runner, found the adrenaline hypos from among their supplies.

“I’ll give it to the children.” He tossed some hypos to Runner. “You give it to the others.”

Runner looked to Seer for guidance, and she said, “Do as he says.”

Soldier went to Blessing. Her thin blond hair hung over a face that was too pale. He wasn’t sure she was breathing. He pulled her to him, listened for a heartbeat, and did not hear one. He took her tiny hands in his. They seemed so frail, so fragile. His eyes welled and he pulled her close. She was already cooling.

“Goodbye,” he said, thinking of her smile.

“She is already gone,” Seer said. “She has gone to Mother.”

“Shut up,” Soldier said, swallowing his sobs. “Shut your mouth.”

“I sense your pain,” Seer said gently. “I’m sorry, Soldier.”

Soldier checked Gift, found that he had succumbed also. Soldier stared into his face a long while. He had pinned his hopes—unfocused, inchoate hope, with no goal or particular aspiration, but hope nonetheless—on the children.

Vain. Useless.

He did not bother to wipe his tears. He left them on his face as a testament to his grief.

“What test of faith did he fail, Seer? What test? He was just a boy.”

Seer did not answer him.

Dull and unfeeling, he went to Grace. When he found her alive, it was as if he had been resurrected. His tears redoubled.

“She’s alive,” he said, excited. With a shaking hand, he injected the adrenaline, and she gasped, inhaled deeply.

Relief flooded him as he watched her lungs rise and fall. He grabbed her up, hugged her close.

“Two-Blade is nearly gone,” Runner said from behind him. “Hunter seems better.”

“Leave Two-Blade,” Seer said. “Blessing and Gift, too. Bring Hunter.”

“No,” Soldier said, and whirled on her. “We’re not abandoning the children.”

“They’re not your children,” Runner said.

“They’re our children,” Soldier spat over his shoulder. “Seer?”

“They have gone to Mother,” Seer said. “Their bodies are irrelevant.”

“To you,” Soldier said.

“To them,” Seer answered. “We must move quickly, Soldier. We cannot bring the dead. Only the living.”

He stared at Blessing, at Gift, and knew she was right. He hated her for being right. He turned and vented his anger on Runner.

“A word to me about them and you die.” He stepped forward and put his face in Runner’s. “A word. Try me, Runner.”

Barely controlled emotion caused Runner’s eye to spasm. Anger curled his lips from his teeth.

It paled in comparison to what Soldier felt. Grief fed his rage, magnified it. He’d turn Runner inside out, bathe in his blood—

“That is enough,” Seer said. “Too many are dead already. That is enough, Soldier.”

Without taking his eyes from Runner, he said to her, “You may not always be right, Seer.”

She smiled. “But what if I am, Soldier?”

To that, he said nothing. He went to little Grace, who breathed deeply, regularly. At his touch, she moaned. He lifted her, cradled her.

“Get Hunter,” he said to Runner. “I have Grace.”

He eyed Two-Blade. His breathing was ragged and rapid. His skin pulsed and bulged. He did not have long. Soldier felt nothing for him. He was focused entirely on Grace.

Runner hefted Hunter and Soldier lifted Grace. Soldier gently placed her in the speeder strapped to the cargo hold bulkhead. Runner loaded Hunter next to her daughter.

“You take the stick, Soldier,” Seer said.

She sat beside him, with Runner in the rear along with Hunter and Grace.

Soldier opened the cargo bay door and activated the speeder. Its thrusters lifted it from the floor. Warm air from outside poured into the cargo bay. It smelled of vegetation, with a faint overlay of distant wood smoke. Insects whistled and chirped, all of it the sounds and smells of a living world. Soldier savored it. He wished Grace could see it.

As they maneuvered out of the cloakshape, a flock of small flying animals, perhaps startled by the appearance of the speeder, winged out of a nearby tree and into the sky.

“Perhaps they bear the souls of the dead to Mother,” Seer said.

Soldier said nothing, merely watched them go, envying them their freedom.

Jaden found Khedryn and Marr in Junker’s cockpit.

“We’ll be coming out of hyperspace soon,” Khedryn said.

“Good,” Jaden said.

“Caf?” Khedryn asked. He had an extra cup filled.

“Thanks,” Jaden said, and took it.

As Khedryn handed him the caf, his eyes fell on the lightsaber hanging from Jaden’s belt.

“You do something to that? It looks different.”

Jaden smiled. “It is different.” He took the hilt in hand and activated the lightsaber. The yellow blade hummed to life. Marr and Khedyrn eyed it.

“That was the clone’s weapon?” Khedryn asked, incredulous. “That red blade?”

Jaden nodded.

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Marr said. “You did something to the power crystal?”

Jaden deactivated the blade. “The attunement to the dark side can be cleared and replaced. It’s an advanced technique,” he said to Marr. “But I will teach you in time.”

Khedryn tapped a finger on his caf mug. “Jedi, if you could do that with the Sith, the galaxy would be a better joint. Just cleanse the place.”

Jaden smiled. “A person is not a crystal.”

“Too bad,” Khedyrn said.

“Redemption isn’t meant to be easy,” Jaden said.

“Too bad, too,” Khedryn said. “Though some of us don’t require redemption.”

Jaden chuckled, and raised his mug to Khedryn in a toast.

“May I ask a question?” Marr asked.

“Of course,” Jaden said.

“Why are we hunting the clones?”

The question was so direct that it stopped Jaden in his tracks.

“What do you mean?” he asked at last.

“Yeah, what?” Khedryn asked.

Marr visibly warmed to this thinking, gesturing with his hands as he spoke.

“What have they done? From what you’ve told me, they could have killed you and Khedryn back on the moon. Isn’t that so? You both stood in the open with the cloakshape right above you.”

“Maybe they could have,” Jaden said.

“But they didn’t. And yet … we hunt them.”

“You didn’t see the inside of that facility, Marr,” Khedryn said. “You didn’t see … the place where they put the doctors and the Imperial troops. Even stormies don’t deserve to go out that way.”

“They lived a long time on that moon. Alone. They were experimented on in horrible ways.”

“They were alone because they slaughtered everyone else,” Khedryn said. “These clones were made by Thrawn to be weapons. And weapons want to be used.”

Jaden listened, turned his thoughts over in his mind.

“These are people,” Marr said. “Not items. They have sentience, agency. That the Empire bred them to be weapons doesn’t make them weapons. They can choose otherwise.”

Khedryn shook his head as he sipped his caf. “You sure about that?”

Marr looked down and shook his head. “No. But maybe they just want a life for themselves. People aren’t equations, Khedryn.”

Khedryn smiled. “That’s odd to hear coming from you.”

“What do you think, Master?” Marr asked.

“You are awfully quiet, Jedi,” Khedryn said.

Jaden put down his mug. “I think you’re both right. Biology isn’t destiny or we’re all just droids of flesh. Choice is what makes us human. But biology does constrain choice. Can the clones choose a path other than the violence for which they were bred?” He shrugged, swirling the caf in his mug. “Maybe. But the clone I faced on the moon was insane, and powerful in the dark side of the Force. If the others are like him, they’re potentially dangerous. At the least we must take them into custody.”

“At the least,” Khedryn said.

Marr nodded, but Jaden felt his ambivalence. He had no words to dispel it.

“Maybe we’ll never find ’em,” Khedryn said. “Won’t be our problem, then.”

Ahead, Soldier saw the haphazard city of Farpoint rise out of the dust of the plain. To the west stood an expansive landing field littered with ships. A few swoops and speeder bikes dotted the sky.

Most of the buildings within the city were single-story, ramshackle structures built of corrugated metal, native wood, and whatever other materials builders could scavenge. The few multistory buildings of the city sat in the city center, the tallest about ten stories. It hit Soldier as they approached that their profile reminded him of something.

A ship’s bridge.

In fact, the entire outline of the city looked like an elongated version of a cruiser or dreadnought, as if a giant had smeared a ship across the surface of Fhost. The city had been built on its skeleton. Over time, it had accreted additional structures, lost others, but the outline was still vaguely visible.

He wondered about the ship’s origin as he steered the speeder along the cluttered, narrow streets of the city. What had the ship’s crew been looking for? Had they found it, before they died?

“What are you thinking?” Seer asked him.

“Nothing,” he said.

Dust coated everything. Speeders, swoops, wheeled and treaded vehicles, even primitive wagons pulled by a large reptile of some sort made the streets a crowded mash up of technology. Sentients of many species stood in shop doors and strode the walkways. The aroma of sizzling meat and exotic-smelling smokes leaked from some of the structures.

Soldier had never seen so many people in one place, so much activity. He wished to just get out and walk around, take it in.

“There,” Seer said, pointing.

A cylindrical ship, the center of it a large cargo bay that looked like a distended belly, descended from the blue sky toward the city center.

Five uniformed sentients on swoop bikes—they looked like tiny bugs beside the supply ship—flew escort. The ship flew toward the tallest of the buildings, built from the remains of a crashed ship’s bridge tower.

“The medicine you want is on that ship,” Seer said.

“How do you know?” Soldier said.

“You know how she knows,” Runner snapped.

As they watched, a portion of the roof of the ten-story building—the medical facility, Soldier surmised—folded open to reveal a rooftop landing pad.

“We’ll have to get up there, then,” Soldier said. Their speeder would not go airborne. They’d have to enter the hospital at ground level and get up to the landing pad.

A signal horn beeped behind them. Soldier had stopped in the middle of the street to watch the descending supply ship. A Weequay, the skin of his face as wrinkled as old leather, shouted at them and brandished a fist from his open-top speeder.

“Move it!”

Soldier felt Runner’s anger spike.

“Don’t,” he said, and reached back to grab Runner’s arm, but it was too late.

Runner made a sweeping gesture with one hand, and the Weequay’s speeder looked as if it had been hit broadside with an enormous wave. It teetered on its side and slid across the street, onto the sidewalk, crushing several pedestrians, and into an adjacent building. Metal shrieked and bent. Glass shattered. The building half-collapsed with an angry rumble. One of the Weequay’s speeder’s engines sputtered and burst into flames. Black smoke poured into the air.

Passersby shouted, pointed at Runner. The wounded screamed. Vehicles stopped, the people within gawking. Pedestrians streamed toward the site. Soldier cursed, honked his signal horn to clear a path, and accelerated the speeder away.

“What are you thinking?” he shouted at Runner over his shoulder. “Idiot.”

“Shut your mouth, Soldier. They won’t connect the accident to us, and the damage and casualties will bring the authorities there. Med evac, too. That will work for us.”

Soldier could not argue with the point. But he had trouble believing that Runner had actually thought ahead, as opposed to simply giving in to his anger.

Above, swoop bikes with uniformed officers streaked past, high-pitched sirens wailing. Somewhere behind the crush of buildings, he heard a different kind of siren and presumed it was med evac.

Using the tall spike of the medical center as a navigational aide, he drove the speeder quickly through the streets until they reached the city center. A score of pedestrians milled about outside the large, transparisteel doors of the medical center. Swoops, speeder bikes, speeders, and several wheeled vehicles were parked in a disorganized fashion on the street. A small, box-shaped medical shuttle alit from a second-story landing pad, turned, and shot off in the direction of the havoc Runner had wrought. Soldier looked over to Seer.

“You’re certain the meds we need are on the ship?”

She did not blink. “I’m certain.”

He spared a look at Hunter, at Grace. They would not last much longer. “Then let’s go.”

They parked the speeder and exited. Seer took Grace before Soldier could, so he carried Hunter.

“Cover your weapons,” he said to Seer and Runner.

“Why?” Runner said.

“Just do it,” he snapped.

Runner grumbled as he covered the hilt of his blade with his cloak.

Together, they walked toward the sliding doors of the medical facility. Soldier kept his head down, but he felt the eyes of pedestrians and passersby on him. Perhaps they noted the raggedness of his group’s clothing.

A bipedal, anthropoid droid, coated in dust, separated itself from the crowd and approached them. Soldier tried to veer away, but it shifted to intercept them.

“May I assist you, sir?” the droid asked.

“No.”

“I will alert a doctor about your sick companions.”

“That’s not necessary,” Soldier said.

“It is no trouble, sir. Their body temperature is quite high and they will need rapid treatment. A medical team will be awaiting you inside.”

Soldier had hoped to go mostly unnoticed. That, it seemed, was no longer possible. They moved through sentients and droids and into the medical center.

A waiting room opened to the right, a dozen worried sentients sitting in chairs or watching a holo. To the left was a medical triage. The smell of antiseptic filled the air. Violet-uniformed doctors and nurses moved about the triage area. The beep and whistle of medical equipment reminded Soldier of the facility on the frozen moon. Bad memories bubbled up from the dregs of his mind.

“I don’t like doctors,” Runner said, agitation coming off him in palpable waves.

Neither did Soldier. Their experience with doctors involved sensory deprivation tanks, surgeries without anesthesia, painful tests, hypos, and constant monitoring. He felt his own level of irritation rising. The power he held at bay crept up on him, desperate to be used.

A thin female doctor with graying hair stood near the reception area straight ahead. She held a portable scanner in her hand. A male nurse stood beside her, one hand on a wheeled gurney large enough to hold Hunter and Grace. Both hurriedly approached as Soldier and the others entered.

“Put them down here,” the doctor said, her tone brisk and commanding.

Soldier laid Hunter down on the gurney and Seer placed Grace beside her. Soldier was pleased to see that Grace’s color had improved.

Soldier scanned the triage, the reception area, the waiting room, looking for lifts. He saw six security guards in black uniforms stationed within eyeshot. All wore blasters at their hips.

The doctor began her examination. “They’re burning up,” she said.

“They need injections of Metacycline,” Soldier said.

The doctor looked up at him. “Metacycline? I’m not familiar with—”

“It’s a mixture of several drugs,” Soldier said. “A genetic coherence sequencer, an antipsychotic, and a blood thinner.”

The nurse said, “I read about Metacycline years ago in a medical ethics paper. The Empire used it decades ago in some experiments.”

“Why would they need that?” the doctor asked Soldier.

“Just give it to them,” Runner barked.

Two of the nearby security guards noticed them, frowning at Runner’s tone.

The doctor blinked, taken aback, perhaps unused to being talked to in such a manner. She seemed to actually note their appearance for the first time—their filthy, threadbare clothes made from Imperial castoffs, their unkempt hair and beards.

Soldier saw the change come over her, the moment suspicion seized her mind, changing her concern from treating Hunter and Grace to ensuring that she was not harmed.

“Uh, I see,” the doctor said. She stood up and backed away, her eyes wide. “Let me see what we have in the dispensary.” She took the nurse by the arm and backed off a few more steps. “Nurse, I will need your assistance.”

The nurse, surprised, said, “Uh … of course, Doctor.”

Soldier sank into the Force, drew on the enormous reservoir of power bubbling beneath the surface of his control. He reached out with mental fingers and took hold of the doctor’s mind, of the nurse’s.

“You will both escort us to the lifts,” Soldier said.

Doctor and nurse stopped their retreat and their faces went vacant.

“I will escort you to the lifts,” they said in unison.

“You there,” called one of the security guards from behind them.

“Take us,” Soldier said to the doctor and nurse. “Now. Right now.”

They turned and started walking toward the triage area. He could feel the emotion building in Runner, in Seer, in himself. He felt as if it might lift him from his feet.

“You there!” called the guard again from behind them. “Wait, I said!”

Eyes were on them—doctors’, nurses’, patients’.

Ahead, two other security guards appeared, talking softly into their comlinks. Each had a hand on his blaster. Behind those two, Soldier saw the lift doors.

“Enough of this,” Runner said. He shoved Soldier to the side, the anger bleeding from him. He held out his hands and unleashed a blast of energy that went before him in a wide arc. The triage area virtually exploded. Beds overturned; overhead lights shattered, raining glass; medical equipment toppled; and two dozen bodies—patients, security guards, doctors, and nurses, including those whose minds Soldier had bent to his will—flew across the room and slammed into the far wall. Bones shattered.

Before them, the pile of bodies, bedding, and machinery looked like the aftermath of a bomb blast. The lift doors were crumpled on their mounts; the lift control panel was shattered and spitting sparks. The alarms from medical equipment beeped plaintively. Moans and screams sounded from the wounded.

Soldier drew his lightsaber, activated it, and turned as the two security guards behind them drew their blasters and fired. His blade spun and he deflected both shots back at the guards, opening smoking holes in their chests. They staggered backward, fell, and died.

Screams came from all sides, some of terror, some of pain. An alarm activated and sang in high-pitched notes. The authorities would be coming.

“Come, Soldier,” Seer said, her voice preternaturally calm. She had already scooped up Grace from the gurney. Soldier grabbed Hunter and put her over his shoulders. Runner picked his way through the carnage to the lifts and pressed futilely at the panel.

“You ruined them,” Soldier said.

Runner whirled on him, his lips pulled back to bare his teeth. Caught up in Runner’s anger, Soldier stepped in closer, fists clenched.

Seer interposed her body between them. “We use the stairs,” she said.

Soldier swallowed hard, nodded. Runner said nothing, merely spun on his heel and used the Force to blow open the doorway to the stairs.

“Ruined this door, too,” he said over his shoulder.

Soldier resisted the urge to drive his lightsaber into Runner’s back only because Seer, perhaps sensing his anger, put her hand on his forearm.

“Don’t,” she said.

They left the wounded and dying behind them and started up the stairwell.

As he climbed, Soldier wondered why he stayed with Seer. He could have taken Grace, even Hunter, and left Seer alone on her quest for Mother. Runner could not have stopped him.

But even as he asked the question, he knew the answer: he hated his doubt. He craved certainty, and he hoped, against his better judgment, that everything Seer said would ultimately prove true.

If that happened, he would kill his doubt forever.

Junker came out of hyperspace and the blue churn gave way to black, to Fhost’s system. The system’s star painted the cockpit in orange light. Ahead, the tan sphere of Fhost spun against the ink of space.

“Welcome home,” Khedryn said. “Doesn’t look the same somehow.”

“No,” Marr said thoughtfully. “It doesn’t.”

“The authorities may want us for questioning about The Hole,” Jaden said.

“Reegas will not welcome our return,” Marr observed.

Jaden had intervened in a sabacc game involving Khedryn and a local crime lord named Reegas. The game had turned into a brawl, and Jaden had left several of Reegas’s bodyguards dead.

“We’ll avoid sat pings, and planetary control won’t know we’re in-system,” Khedryn said. He looked back at Jaden. “We’re not staying long, are we?”

“Probably not,” Jaden said.

Khedryn nodded. “You know the headings to use, Marr.”

Marr started plugging numbers into the instrument panel. Jaden noticed that he did it with his eyes closed.

“I need to hail Ar-Six,” Jaden said. He’d left his droid aboard his modified Z-95 in-system.

Khedryn handed him the ship-to-ship and Jaden input the frequency. The droid’s beep of acknowledgment carried over the channel. The sound brought Jaden enormous comfort. Prior to meeting Khedryn and Marr, R-6 had been his sole companion for months.

“Good to hear you, too, Ar-Six,” Jaden said.

Without further ado, R-6 exploded into droidspeak, unleashing a rapid series of whoops, beeps, and whistles.

“Slow down, Ar-Six,” Jaden said.

“Something wrong?” Khedryn asked.

Jaden had trouble with droidspeak during the best of times, but he’d caught the note of alarm in R-6’s tone and something about an attack. As a matter of routine, R-6 would monitor holo and radio transmissions planetside.

“Start over,” Jaden said, and put the droid on speaker. “But go slower.”

R-6 began again, and Khedryn and Marr watched Jaden as he listened.

“The medical facility on Fhost has been attacked,” Jaden said.

“Users,” Khedryn said, shaking his head. “Happens a few times per year. They get together in a gang and—”

“Repeat, Ar-Six,” Jaden said, and the droid did so. “Are you sure that’s what the report said?”

The droid beeped an affirmative.

Jaden looked to Khedryn and Marr. “Reports say that one of the attackers used a lightsaber. A red lightsaber.”

A long moment of silence passed.

“Couldn’t be,” Khedryn said.

“The timing is right,” Marr said. “They could be sick after so long in isolation. Maybe they need medical supplies?”

“Ar-Six is getting this in real time,” Jaden said. “So there’s one sure way to find out.”

“Heading for Farpoint Medical Center,” Khedryn said, and wheeled Junker to starboard. “You’re a magnet for this stuff, Jaden. Marr, I hope you know what you signed on for.”

“Keep monitoring planetary authorities, Ar-Six,” Jaden said, and the droid beeped an affirmative.

“There isn’t much in the way of official security, Jedi,” Khedryn said. “Reegas and those like him run Farpoint. The authorities are just thugs with uniforms. After the mess you left in The Hole, I doubt they’ll even show up at the facility when they hear the word ‘lightsaber.’ ” To Marr, he said, “Chewstim?”

Marr pulled the pack from his pocket, offered Khedryn a wedge.

“Better stow that caf,” Khedryn said, nodding at the mugs.

Jaden and Marr scooped up the half-full mugs, dumped the contents, and packed them away.

Junker burned through the atmosphere, flames licking the ship’s side. They completed reentry and burst through the cloud cover, and Fhost appeared below them. Farpoint looked like a darkened thumbprint on the planet’s beige surface.

“Anything new, Ar-Six?” Jaden asked.

The droid beeped a negative.

“Maybe you ought to bring that droid aboard Junker, Jaden,” Khedryn said.

Jaden stared at him, dumbfounded. Even Marr looked surprised.

“What?” Jaden said. “I thought you don’t let droids aboard Junker.”

“You seem fond of him, so maybe he’s better than most. Besides, I need someone to talk to when you two are off training. I feel like I’m flying a tomb. Too blasted quiet in here. That droid seems chatty, if nothing else.”

“I see,” Jaden said, smiling.

“Maybe time for some other changes, too,” Khedryn said. “You don’t seem inclined to run away from things, which is too bad, since it’s a habit that’s served me well for thirty years. So maybe we ought to arm Junker with something other than a tractor beam.”

Jaden knew better than to push. “Whatever you think is best. She’s your ship.”

“Darn right she is,” Khedryn said. He pointed down out of the transparisteel canopy. “There’s the facility.”

The medical center’s ten stories had once been part of the bridge tower of the crashed ship that formed the bones of Farpoint. As the tallest building in Farpoint, it looked like a victory pennon planted in the city center. The doors of its rooftop landing pad lay wide open, a medical supply ship visible on the deck.

Jaden saw three swoops circling the exterior of the building at various altitudes, their sirens flashing orange.

“They’re not going in,” Jaden said.

“Told you,” Khedryn said. “They’ll let internal security handle it, then come in to clean up when it’s over.”

“Security can’t handle even one of those clones.”

“We don’t know that it’s the clones.”

R-6’s droidspeak carried over the comm. Jaden nodded, listening.

“Reports from inside say they’re heading up the stairs,” he translated. “The lifts were damaged in some kind of explosion. There are a lot of dead and wounded.”

“At least they’re in a hospital,” Khedryn said, then winced at his bad joke. “Not funny. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Coming in. Where should I set down?”

“If they’re taking the stairs, they’re going up.”

“The supply ship?” Marr asked.

Jaden frowned. “Possible, but they could be after just about anything. Or they could be after nothing. The Solusar clone I faced on the moon was insane. Using reason to anticipate their actions is a fool’s game.”

Jaden flashed on the Kamclone’s wild eyes, the script written in blood on the door of the cloning chamber:

MOTHER IS HUNGRY.

He thought of the corpses piled several meters deep in the cloning cylinder, the thick, pungent stink of decay. The clones had killed everyone.

He had to get into the medical facility or there would be many more dead.

“Land on the roof. Marr, I need a schematic of that building.”

“Yes, Master,” said Marr, and worked the keys of his comp station.

“Still wondering why we’re chasing them?” Khedryn asked Marr, and the Cerean gave no answer.

Junker blazed through the air, the medical facility getting larger in their vision.

“I have it,” Marr said. He tapped a few keys, and a hologram of the building schematics materialized over his station. “Stairwells there and there,” he said, pointing. “Both accessible from the roof.”

“I’ll take the west stairwell,” Jaden said to Marr. “You take the east.”

Marr nodded, his expression unmarked by fear. Jaden credited him for it.

“I’ll go with Marr,” Khedryn said.

Jaden shook his head. “No. You stay on the roof with Junker.”

“I may not be a Jedi, but I can handle myself, Korr.”

“I know that. You’re my last line of defense, Khedryn. If they are making a run for that ship and get past us, I need to know it right away. Understood?”

Khedryn inclined his head. “All right. Understood.”

“Good. Let’s move, Marr.”

Jaden and Marr ran through Junker’s corridors until they reached the cargo bay.

“I need a marker,” Jaden said. “A transponder beacon or something like it. Anything aboard?”

Marr’s expression turned puzzled. “We have salvage beacons. We use them to mark derelict ships if we can’t tow them. We find them later with the beacons.”

“Unique frequency?”

“Have to be. Otherwise other spacers would pick up the signal and take our salvage.”

“Get me one.”

Marr ran across the cargo bay, opened a wall-mounted bin, and pulled out one of the pyramidal beacons and brought it back to Jaden.

“What’s the frequency?”

Marr told him. “Why do you need it?”

“Just in case,” Jaden said. “Always have contingency plans, Marr. Nothing ever goes as planned. Be prepared with backup plans and be prepared to improvise.”

“Yes, Master.”

Khedryn’s voice carried over the comlink. “Setting down.”

Jaden punched a button on the control panel to open the door. Air and Fhost’s dust billowed in. The sound of sirens carried over the wind.

Jaden seized Marr with his eyes. “If it’s the clones in there, then they killed people, Marr. That means we’re past philosophical discussions about nature and self determination. They’ve made their choice. We will have to stop them. Kill them. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

Jaden heard no hesitation in Marr’s tone. “Good. Now, do not engage the clones alone.”

“Master—”

Jaden held up a hand. “You have had hours of training, Marr. Your connection to the Force is strong, but your abilities are trivial compared with those of a trained Force user. You call me immediately and we engage them together. That’s an order.”

Marr bowed his head. “Yes, Master.”

Only the faint glow of instrumentation broke the darkness of the scout flyer’s cockpit. Both Syll and Nyss, born under the faint sun and dim skies of Umbara, preferred to keep the cockpit lights turned off. They saw in darkness better than they did in light. In some indefinable way, Nyss had always considered himself kin to darkness, an instrument of the night.

He looked under his feet, through the transparisteel bubble of the scout’s cockpit. Korriban roiled below them, spinning slowly in its shroud of clouds. Nyss appreciated the planet’s austere bleakness, even felt a kinship to it. He watched it churn, an angry black ball of storms and dark-side energy. Of course, he felt none of the energy, not even faintly. He and his sister did not possess whatever connection living things ordinarily had with the Force.

He and Syll were unique in the galaxy, disconnected from it.

Perhaps the disconnect made them dead, he mused with a smile. Or maybe he and Syll were the only two really alive and everyone else labored under the illusion of the interconnectedness of life, a shared falsehood belied by the truth of Syll and Nyss’s existence. He liked that. He was truth. The rest of the galaxy was a lie.

He looked over and watched Syll input data into the navicomp. Her dark hair and pale face made her look like an archaic photographic negative, the opposite of what she resembled, a false image of reality.

He thought her beautiful.

Syll finished plugging Fhost’s coordinates into the navicomp of the scout flyer and Nyss went through the pre-jump checklist.

“Course is set,” Syll said. “Tracking beacon on the cloakshape fighter is active.”

Nyss nodded, set his palm on one of the cortosis-coated vibroblade knives he wore at his belt. The metal felt cool to the touch.

“We could use the Iteration,” Syll said. “Why leave him in stasis?”

In truth, Nyss wanted the clone in stasis because he did not want another’s presence to defile the time he spent with his sister. He preferred her company, and her company alone.

“If he’s conscious, he generates more memories. And the more memories he possesses, the more the Rakatan mindspear must wipe away before making him anew.”

From the fix of her jaw, he could see that his explanation did not fully satisfy his sister.

“If we need him, we’ll get him out,” he said finally. “Suitable?”

“Suitable.”

“This shouldn’t be difficult,” he said. “Smash and grab, as before.”

“Right.”

“Ready?”

She nodded. “Let’s go.”

He held a hand out for his sister. She took his hand in hers, their arms bridging the gap between their seats. Syll activated the light filters on the cockpit bubble. Nyss engaged the hyperdrive and they leapt together into the abyss. The streaks of hyperspace irritated their eyes—and normal space disappeared. They floated alone in the dark warm womb of the cockpit.

Nyss felt most at home while in hyperspace. Probably because it, like him, was separate from the galaxy, not subject to the ordinary rules that governed reality.

Through the dimmed transparisteel of the cockpit bubble, the star lines of hyperspace were grayed out and barely visible, a dark curtain parsecs wide.

He settled in to pass the time.