Cair asked, “What do you want? Why are you here instead of the palace?”

  “It’s being refitted for visits from the Eye himself. I would never deign to set myself up there. Especially not when this manor has everything the palace has, being so defensible and with such a useful port, a perfect view of Theed. And its own power generators. Not to mention a shockingly decadent wine cellar. We can live here quite comfortably and keep Theed itself defenseless.”

  “Who would attack you here?” he demanded. “We’ve turned over the resources and treasures you’ve asked for.”

  “I have plenty of enemies. All the strong do.” Viess thumbed the hilt of the sword at her belt. “Tell me where Marlowe and Vellis San Tekka are.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where were you, then, these past days?”

  “In the city!”

  She eyed him, blue eyes hot in her green face. “With a paramour?”

  “With a lot of people.”

  “You want me to believe you simply wandered off for a bit of lovemaking?”

  “And gambling,” he said, jutting out his chin. “There’s a lot of good trouble to be had in a Nihil-run city like Theed.”

  Viess laughed. “I see.”

  Beside her, Plinka trembled hard enough Cair could see it. He wondered if the chains held her in stasis. “Let Plinka go. You’re scaring her.”

  Plinka’s lips curled back from her sharp teeth.

  The general drummed her fingers on the hilt of her sword. “Let me tell you a story, Cair San Tekka.”

  “Just what I always wanted.”

  She smiled magnanimously. “I was recently speaking with Ghirra Starros about rats. Rats crawling through cracks in walls, and how you just can’t get rid of them carefully. What matters is speed and decisiveness, yes?”

  Cair opened his mouth to joke, but panic stopped it in his throat as the general moved in one fluid step, drew her sword, and sliced along the side of Plinka’s throat.

  Cair leapt forward with a cry, running to Plinka’s side. The dog made an awful gasping sound, and the chains shorted out. Blood seeped from the wound, flooding into the white fur. Cair caught Plinka as she tumbled, throwing his arms around her. He helped lower her, but she was so heavy. She landed half in his lap as he fell to his knees. “Plinka,” he said, struggling to hold her and strip off his coat. He balled it up and pressed it to her neck. Blood gushed but didn’t spurt. Maybe—maybe…

  His breath stuttered as Cair tried to focus. He pressed hard, then yelled, “Help! Get a doctor!”

  Viess pointed her sword at the doors and said, “Stay.”

  Gritting his teeth, Cair focused on stopping the bleeding. Plinka blinked at him, whining.

  “It’s all right, girl,” he murmured. “Just stay still.”

  A cold blade sticky with blood touched his jaw. Cair froze. The blade lifted his chin until he was forced to look at Viess.

  “Worry less, human. The Theljian snow dog’s primary cranial artery is tucked beneath the spine.”

  Cair’s mouth dropped open. The Mirialan could know that only because she was an experienced mass murderer. She lowered her gaze to his neck, where his own pulse throbbed, probably visible to her, seeing as it was so vulnerably close to the surface.

  Viess continued, “You haven’t heard the point of my story.”

  Cair swallowed, the smell of cool snow dog blood filling his nostrils.

  “We—Ghirra and I—were discussing the need to establish a new hierarchy of Nihil working on the Stormwall, since that’s where any flaws in our armor are likely to be. Dr. Mkampa cared about exactly what one might expect from a Nihil-backed scientist: power and continued support for her research. And Xylan Graf cared about so little, you know, I wondered if it must have been an act. Best to get rid of them both and start over. But if I killed everyone working on the Lightning Crash, I’d need new people to run it, wouldn’t I?”

  Her voice faded behind the ringing in Cair’s ears. Had she already done it? Already massacred everyone on the Lightning Crash? Had they had any warning? Cair clenched his jaw, tightened his hold on Plinka, and tried not to throw up.

  “—and Ghirra reminded me that in the absence of our former experts, we have some of the foremost Republic experts on hyperspace right here on Naboo, and how convenient that I’ve already conquered it!” Viess smiled, as if not only pleased but overjoyed.

  Former expert. Former.

  Cair was definitely going to vomit.

  “Too bad they’re gone.” Viess crouched, smoothly shifting so that her blade didn’t move at all, even as she reached Cair’s eye level. “Their drunken, silly cousin was gone, too. But do you know what I did find here, waiting eagerly for me?”

  Cair didn’t answer. He couldn’t open his mouth. His hands were going numb with Plinka’s cold blood.

  “Since you’ve come home, Cair San Tekka,” the general asked sweetly, “tell me, what are you doing with Xylan Graf’s dog?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Republic Space, Border of the Occlusion Zone

  Xylan Graf was pure chaos, and Avar almost regretted letting him on the Axiom.

  First of all, he brought suitcases. Two of them. He piloted and docked a small transport shuttle normally attached to the Nihil ship he’d flown—stolen?—from Nihil space. Avar had secured her Vector, Vernestra right behind her, when Graf landed. They were joined in the welcoming party by several RDC soldiers with blasters ready and Captain Ba’luun herself—a stout Thisspiasian with her thick hair and beards braided uniform-style. She slithered quickly but regally across the docking bay to Avar’s side.

  “You know this Xylan Graf?” Ba’luun asked.

  “No, but I’ve heard of the Grafs, and he knew several of the right names,” Avar admitted wryly.

  “I know him,” Vernestra said breathlessly, as she dashed to Avar’s other side. “I don’t trust him, but he did help us on my first mission across the Stormwall. I could be mistaken, but I suspect he’s the person who’s been supplying us with the time-phased Path data.”

  “Good place to start,” Captain Ba’luun said as the transport shuttle hissed and its lower hatch popped open.

  A fancy metallic suitcase fell through, landing with a crack on the floor. A second followed it.

  One of the soldiers laughed.

  A ladder descended and first one polished boot, then another, followed by vivid-teal silkensteen trousers, several layers of ruffled tunic skirt, and a tight jacket. Then the whole overly pretty dark-skinned human Xylan Graf hopped the final rungs. He spun and spread his arms with a flourish and a charming grin. He certainly looked like a rich fop more than a Nihil escapee.

  Before he opened his mouth, Captain Ba’luun gestured for her soldiers to surround him and said, “I see you took the time to pack.”

  Xylan fluttered his dark eyelashes. His eyes were electric blue, too vivid to be natural in a human. “Why…Captain, is it? I’ve had these bags packed and ready to go for absolutely months. Always safer to be ready to run at the first opportunity when one is hostage to Marchion Ro.”

  Vernestra shifted beside Avar, and Avar reached to touch the Mirialan’s wrist. They’d see how this played out at first.

  “And you chose now to what? Defect? We’ll have to do some investigating.” Ba’luun nodded to a soldier, who stepped forward with her blaster ready.

  Xylan Graf held up his hands. “No need, no need. I’m no danger, I promise—I really just need a ride to Coruscant, maybe a meal and bath, nothing like a cell, you see.” As the soldiers nudged at him with their weapons, one going so far as to pat him down, Xylan looked around, eyes wide. “Wasn’t there a…ah! Yes!” He waved. “Master Avar Kriss! Yoo-hoo! Don’t let them hurt me, would you?”

  Vernestra snorted a laugh.

  Though Avar hadn’t been feeling too amused, Vernestra’s reaction loosened a knot that had been forming at the base of her neck. Avar said, “It’s all right, Captain, I can take Mr. Graf to settle in and explain.”

  But Graf noticed Vernestra. Shock showed on his face in a flash, then he reconfigured the expression to haughty surprise. “Vernestra Rwoh! As I live and breathe, as they say on the frontier. Is that you? Now, here.” He turned to Captain Ba’luun. “This is a Jedi who knows me personally. I’m sure she’d vouch that I have no ill intentions toward your ship.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Vernestra said.

  “Vernie,” Graf said imploringly.

  The shift in Vernestra’s energy from relatively open to sudden dangerous irritation had Avar glancing at her sharply. Vernestra smiled at Graf in a decidedly unpleasant way.

  Xylan Graf’s expression froze. “Vernestra,” he corrected himself apologetically.

  Slowly, Vernestra looked to Avar, and Avar nodded for Vernestra to proceed. The younger Jedi had the history here, and she absolutely had the skills. She could handle it. One thing Avar had learned well during her year in the Occlusion Zone was to sometimes hold back her natural tendency to take charge. Her instincts had always been to throw herself into leadership because nobody could do it the way she did. And Avar was good at leading, at accepting and beating challenges. But in Nihil territory giving herself away as an authority figure, or someone with any power at all, often got people killed. Not to mention it was prideful. She’d realized how to work to her strengths even when standing at someone’s back, when taking a side seat because that was the will of the Force.

  Vernestra said to Captain Ba’luun, “If your people can take Xylan’s bags to the brig, we’ll take him to get something to eat and he can have a chance to convince us he doesn’t need to join them in the cell.”

  Xylan smiled sourly at her. But he bowed politely.

  “You should join us, Captain,” Avar said.

  “I’d love to. We can use my command quarters.” The Thisspiasian tapped the thick tip of her tail to the docking bay floor, and two of her soldiers jogged over to grab up Graf’s suitcases. “Be sure to check them for explosives.”

  Xylan offered his elbow to Vernestra, and the younger Jedi rolled her eyes. He shrugged and said to Avar, “Lead the way?”

  Captain Ba’luun returned to the bridge to bring the Axiom around for the jump to Coruscant. She’d join them in her command quarters shortly, and welcomed them to dig into her drinks station.

  But the moment the Jedi with their sort-of captive stepped into the corridor outside the docking bay, Avar nearly ran into Marlowe and Vellis San Tekka.

  Marlowe said, “Ah, Master Kriss, can you tell us—”

  Behind Marlowe, his husband, Vellis, halted in shock, pointing over Avar’s shoulder. “You!”

  Marlowe leaned forward and scowled. “Xylan Graf.”

  Avar put her hand on Marlowe’s chest. “Gentlebeings, please. Everything is fine, and we’ll be entering hyperspace momentarily, soon to be on Coruscant. Please return to the room you were assigned.”

  “But—”

  “San Tekkas like to blame Grafs for everything wrong in the universe.” Xylan spoke gently, as if discussing a baby. Avar glanced back. Vernestra had a hand on Xylan’s arm, but the only thing dangerous about Graf was his smile, eyelids lowered with either laziness or malice.

  Avar sensed neither but rather attentiveness and a brand-new edge of something in Xylan Graf’s energy. Something like panic. That boded poorly. Avar kept her awareness of the Force open and flowing.

  “Grafs are the ones who—Master Kriss,” Vellis said, pushing past his husband. “This man and his family paid for the development of the Stormwall technology. Xylan Graf was arrested on Coruscant and his assets seized over a year ago because of it. The Gravity’s Heart fiasco.”

  Behind her, Xylan sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t move out of Vernestra’s grip, though. He said, “True, but perhaps you should join us for the story I’m about to tell, Masters San Tekka. Since we wouldn’t have that very same Stormwall—or the Nihil themselves!—without the aid of your family.”

  Avar felt momentarily like a boulder pummeled on one side by hail, the other by the ocean itself. She put out both her hands. “Stop. We will discuss this peacefully.” She glared at Xylan. “This is not the Nihil. Threats and obnoxiousness will not get you what you want.” She turned her glare onto Marlowe and Vellis. “This is the Republic, and we work through justice and mercy. Keep both in mind if you would like to participate in this conversation.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Vellis said, despite being her elder. Marlowe nodded.

  Xylan sighed like a put-upon cat.

  Vernestra met Avar’s gaze and shrugged a little as if to ask, What can one do with people like this?

  * * *

  —

  Once the party had situated themselves in the commander’s quarters with cups of caf, a tea service, and snacks, the Axiom had made the jump into hyperspace and Captain Ba’luun arrived, brandishing a small bottle of a poisonous-looking pink liquor.

  Everyone but the Jedi partook, and Xylan Graf nearly melted with relief when he sipped the alcohol. “It’s such an annoyance finding fine wines in the Occlusion Zone.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have allied with the Nihil,” Vellis San Tekka sneered.

  “Perhaps,” Avar said, “you should begin your tale, Xylan.”

  He smiled at her and looked to Vernestra and Captain Ba’luun, ignoring the San Tekkas. He said, “Years ago, I began working with a charming, brilliant—but ultimately rather unhinged—scientist named Chancey Yarrow, funding her research into gravitational distortions.”

  Avar blinked at the name but otherwise did not react. She knew this background from Elzar, and already Xylan felt calmer, though there remained an urgency to him. He believed his life depended on his words.

  It was probably wise.

  “The details are neither here nor there,” Xylan said. “But once the Gravity’s Heart space station was destroyed, Chancey removed herself to a lab provided by Graf money where she continued her research. I—as the good San Tekkas were so kind to point out—had been alleviated of my positions within my family and stripped of resources. But I did manage to hide away quite a bit of funding in secure locations.” Here Xylan looked pointedly at the San Tekkas. Vellis’s face turned red, and Marlowe closed his eyes.

  Avar sensed Xylan Graf was grandstanding to hide his anxiety.

  “One of the assets I managed to retain was a station I was building alongside the Gravity’s Heart—a backup, as it were. It’s never a good idea to put all one’s credits in one bank.” Now he turned his pitying gaze to Avar, and she knew he was referring to Starlight Beacon. She did not react. Nothing he said could hurt her more than the loss itself had. The fall of Starlight had been her responsibility. She knew she couldn’t have done a better job than Stellan and Elzar of protecting it, but she still thought sometimes that if she’d listened to Stellan, if she hadn’t run off chasing the Nihil Lourna Dee, maybe something would have been different.

  What had happened, happened. She’d left Eiram because of it. But she’d come back. She was better than before, more attuned to herself and the Force. A man like Xylan Graf couldn’t scratch that.

  Xylan continued, “Of course my mistake from the beginning was thinking anything like profit or science could make a difference to Marchion Ro or his pirates. When I took my vacation from the Republic in the aftermath of the debacle with Chancey, they caught up with me and my Gravity’s Light. They essentially kidnapped me, and soon enough I found that they’d done the same to Chancey, moving her laboratories to my station and forcing us to continue our development. Ro wanted the Heart’s technology portable and flexible. Blah blah blah.” Xylan waved his hand. “We created the stormseeds and the Stormwall itself. I was hardly a willing participant, especially once Chancey died. At that point I was barely keeping myself alive.” Xylan took a drink and drained his cup.

  “Anyway, the Nihil turned the Gravity’s Light into the Lightning Crash and proceeded to run and power the Stormwall from there. Ro and Viess want an impenetrable wall, but that is impossible. They don’t care about the objective reality of the situation. They only care that I’m failing to provide. Especially because you managed to find a way through, dear Jedi, and now you continue jumping back into the mess as easily as if it’s a piece of agron cake!”

  “Sorry we made your life harder, Xylan,” Vernestra said without sympathy.

  He turned a flirtatious smile toward her. “You shouldn’t be, I suppose, since if you haven’t already guessed, I was the one providing the Path codes in appropriate bundles to your smuggling partners in Nihil space. I may have been forced to work for the Nihil, but I’ve always been on your side, you see.”

  Marlowe San Tekka crossed his arms over his chest while his husband snorted. Avar sensed hostility from them, but not anything about to set them off.

  Captain Ba’luun poured Xylan another drink. She said, “If your station is powering the Stormwall and you’re on our side, why not self-destruct to bring it all down?”

  “Because it’s mine,” he pouted. But then he shook his head. “And I did assist in an attempt to do so once—but there were fail-safes in place. Anyway, destroying the station wouldn’t be good enough. The effectiveness of the wall is what needs to be destroyed, not simply its power source. Kill a grand master and the Jedi Order still works. Blow up the Lightning Crash and the wall would only be down temporarily while Ro returned control to its original location on the Gaze and found a new power source. Yes, it would be a blow to the Nihil, and of course now destroying it is part of the plan. But in the long run what we need to do is render the wall irrelevant. Which is why I have come to you now with information on how to do just that.”