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  This time, the Tremaines did not betray their alarm even in their eyes. But Daala’s trainers had not taught them how to conceal their emotions in the Force, and Ben could feel their surprise in their auras as clearly as he had seen it earlier.

  After a barely discernible pause, Rolund asked, “What makes you think we care about that, Ben?”

  Ben sighed. “Answering a question with a question is kind of artless, don’t you think?” He placed both palms on the table and leaned forward. “If you think that’s going to work on a Jedi, you definitely don’t know more about interrogation than I do.”

  Rhondi slumped back in her seat, unconsciously signaling her fear by leaning away from Ben.

  “Rolund said you have nothing to hide,” Ben pressed. “I hate it when people lie to me.”

  “We’re not lying,” Rhondi insisted. “It’s just that your father doesn’t need an IV.”

  “The Force will sustain him,” Rolund added.

  Ben cast a meaningful glance at the storage bladder resting between them. “Like it sustains you?”

  Rhondi nodded eagerly. “Exactly.”

  A cold fury began to worm its way up Ben’s belly. These people were lying to him. Determined to remain calm, he took a deep breath—then a second, and third. He was in danger of losing his temper, which meant he was also in danger of losing control of the interrogation. And perhaps that was why they were deceiving him—because they knew he would be easier to control if he grew angry.

  They were subtle, these Mind Walkers, more dangerous than Ben had realized. He took yet another deep breath, and once he felt relatively calm again he sat upright, casually propping his hand on his thigh …close to his lightsaber.

  “So the Force is all you need to sustain your bodies?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” Rhondi assured him. “What is a body, but the Force given form?”

  “Good question,” Ben acknowledged. “But I’ve got another one. If you don’t need anything but the Force to sustain yourselves, why are you tearing through the Shadow’s stores?”

  To Ben’s surprise, Rhondi turned to Rolund and smiled. “I told you he’d notice that.”

  Rolund shrugged and kept his attention fixed on her. “It was better than the Food is just the Force in the form of matter nonsense you wanted to try.”

  “And you’re both dodging my question.” Ben stood and stepped back from the table. He was starting to get the feeling that the Tremaines—and all the Mind Walkers who had come to the Shadow for handouts—had been setting him up for a betrayal. “I want an answer, or I want you gone.”

  Rhondi began to look worried—and just a little ashamed. She turned to Rolund, who was glaring at Ben in open resentment, and said, “I think we’d better tell him the truth, Rolund. He seems to be upset.”

  “And I’m growing angrier by the second,” Ben warned. They had been lying to him all along, he realized, and that could only mean they intended him harm. “I don’t like feeding enemies.”

  “We’re not your enemies,” Rolund said, arching his brows. He actually looked hurt—but in a practiced, well-rehearsed way that suggested his long years of espionage training. “We’ve just been trying to help you.”

  “All of us have,” Rhondi added. “The sooner the Shadow runs out of supplies, the sooner you’ll see that the only real sustenance you need is the Force.”

  The cold rage began to snake its way higher, working itself into Ben’s heart and mind. Something inside was urging him to ignore the Tremaines, to kill them before their lies killed him.

  Ben shook the urge off. He could feel the deception in Rhondi’s words, but he was a Jedi, and Jedi did not murder people for lying to them.

  After a moment, Ben said, “There are other ways to prove your point—ways that might actually convince me.”

  Rolund smiled warmly. “Perhaps you would care to enlighten us?”

  “Sure. It’s pretty simple, actually.” Ben pulled the nutripaste bladder to his side of the table, then used the Force to pluck the hydrade sip-packs out of their grasps. “Just return to beyond shadows and stay there without drinking or eating anything. If you last more than a week, I’ll believe what you tell me.”

  If the suggestion struck any fear or outrage in the hearts of the Tremaines, Ben did not feel it in their Force auras. Instead Rolund pretended to consider the idea for a moment, then turned to his sister.

  “I don’t know, Rhondi,” he said. “What do you think?”

  “I think a week is a long time for Ben to wait for his proof,” Rhondi said.

  She reached for the sip-pack Ben had taken, but something made him jerk it away. The cold rage inside was slithering up higher, reminding him how the Mind Walkers had used Luke’s memory of Jacen to lure his father beyond shadows. And now they were at it again, trying to prevent Ben from keeping him alive—and to trick him into going beyond shadows himself. Maybe the Tremaines did need to die …if he wanted to keep his father alive, maybe all the Mind Walkers needed to die.

  That last thought was what finally shocked Ben out of his rage. He could not believe the idea of mass murder had actually crossed his mind. That seemed just crazy …which, of course, it was. Ben had spent two years in the Maw, and now he was beginning to have paranoid thoughts about the inhabitants of the station. The conclusion seemed … alarming.

  Ben passed the sip-packs to the Tremaines. “You’d better go,” he said. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t come back.”

  WITH A GALLERY OF OLD REPUBLIC ARCHITECTURAL STUDIES ON THE walls and a seating area dominated by two chic LevitaRest couches, the room had obviously been decorated with an eye toward style rather than function. It also appeared far too tidy to be the office of a working judge. Atop the fashionable Freefloater desk, there was not a single document folder, nor even a reading lamp or datapad. In fact, the only indication that someone actually used the chamber on a regular basis was the lingering trace of a sweet, fruity perfume that Jagged Fel felt quite sure the room’s current occupant would not be caught comatose wearing.

  Tall and regal, with long copper hair going to gray, the woman was standing with her back to him. Dressed in her usual uniform of slacks and a white faux-military tunic, she was gazing out a long panel of one-way transparisteel into a gray-walled courtroom that was as austere as the office was fashionable. The room was packed with Jedi, reporters, and other spectators, but the woman’s attention was fixed on the general area of the defense table, where a blond, stoic-looking Jedi-turned-“finder” sat next to her lumpy-faced attorney, a male Twi’lek named Nawara Ven.

  Without looking away from the courtroom, the copper-haired woman motioned to a vacant spot beside her. “Head of State Fel, won’t you join me? This won’t take long, and I suspect you’re as interested in Jedi Veila’s arraignment as I am.”

  “I have no doubt the proceeding will be quick, chief Daala,” Jagged said. Because he had requested this meeting at the last minute, Daala had asked him to join her in the chambers of Judge Arabelle Lorteli. “But Tahiri Veila hasn’t been a Jedi for nearly three years.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Daala continued to look into the courtroom, but Jag thought he glimpsed the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Then this should be interesting.”

  As Jag drew closer to the viewing panel, he saw the Solos sitting in spectator seats behind the defense table. Han and Leia were at the far end of the row, while Jaina was at the other end, with six unoccupied chairs between them. Jag felt a stab of guilt, because he knew he was the cause of the rift in the Solo family. What he didn’t know was what else he could have done; it simply would not have been honorable to ignore his duty to the Galactic Empire by telling the Jedi what he had overheard about Daala and the Mandalorians.

  As sad as Jag was to see the Solos so obviously at odds, he was not surprised to find them at Tahiri’s arraignment. They had been protective of her for the last couple of years, perhaps because her change of heart at the end of the civil war had saved a
great many Jedi lives. Or maybe they felt bad about how caedus had played on her emotions to lead her down a dark path. Or maybe they just felt close to her because of what she had meant to their son Anakin. Probably, it was all of those things.

  Whatever the Solos’ reasons, Jag just wanted to convince Daala to drop the charges against Veila. First, it was the right thing to do. Second, helping Tahiri just might redeem him in the eyes of his future in-laws.

  He stopped a pace from Daala’s side, then gently touched a knuckle to the one-way transparisteel. Although it was impossible to see through the panel from the other side, both Jaina and Leia instantly looked in his direction.

  “No secrets from the Jedi,” Daala commented. “What do you imagine they will make of your presence here …with me?”

  “I’m sure they’ll know exactly why I’m here.” Jag hoped that he sounded more confident than he felt. “To help you see the mistake you’re making.”

  Daala looked at him and cocked a brow. “You don’t approve of my methods?”

  “I don’t approve of using the judicial system as a political weapon,” Jag replied. “It smacks of tyranny.”

  Daala appeared to consider this for a moment. Then her expression grew unreadable and she said, “We are all products of our past, Head of State Fel … but I see your point.”

  A door in the back of the courtroom opened, and the sergeant of the guard called attendees to their feet. Once everyone had obeyed, a slender, blue-haired woman entered the chamber. With high, arching brows and a wide, full-lipped mouth, she looked like an attractive human woman of no more than seventy—save for a thin, too-long nose that identified her as a member of the Zoolli species.

  As she ascended the stairs to the judge’s bench, Daala turned back to the courtroom. “We can talk about judicial independence after the arraignment,” she said. “Trust me, you won’t want to miss this.”

  The obvious eagerness in Daala’s voice made Jag’s stomach sink, but if she was willing to talk about the abuse of power, he might actually have a chance of changing her mind about what she was doing here—as long as he didn’t anger her first by denying her a moment of vengeance.

  “Very well,” he said. “You were kind to see me here, and on such short notice.”

  “Without an agenda,” Daala reminded him. “That alone gives me a pretty good idea of what we’re going to be talking about.”

  Jag nodded, but before he could answer, the sergeant’s gravelly voice came over the intercom’s courtroom feed.

  “The court of Jedi Affairs stands now in session, the honorable Arabelle Lorteli presiding. Be seated and be quiet.”

  Even before the court complied, Judge Lorteli began to speak in a pinched, nasal voice that sent shivers down Jag’s spine. “I must say, I hadn’t realized my reputation was growing quite so fast.”

  The remark was greeted by a round of good-natured chuckling, which immediately drew a surprised scowl from the judge. She glared down her long nose at the attendees, then shot an angry glance toward her court sergeant.

  “Quiet!” the sergeant bellowed.

  A stunned silence fell over the courtroom, and Judge Lorteli tried to hide the flush that had come to her cheeks by pretending to examine a data screen hidden behind the bench. Jag immediately had doubts about the woman’s worthiness for the bench, and the smirk that came to Daala’s face was all the confirmation he needed. The chief of State had known exactly what she was doing when she appointed this particular Zoolli to the Jedi bench.

  Once the color had drained from Lorteli’s cheeks, she looked up again and peered over the bench. “What I meant to say, of course, was that I’m a bit surprised to find this much interest in a simple arraignment.”

  Without waiting for the judge to give him permission, Nawara Ven rose and began to speak. “That unusual interest is due to the public outrage at this blatant abuse of the judicial, Your Honor. The arrest of Tahiri Veila is nothing more than a cynical political ploy—”

  “That’s enough for now, counselor,” Lorteli interrupted, raising her hand to the Twi’lek. “And you are …?”

  Nawara’s head-tails twitched so violently that they slapped against his back. “You know perfectly well who I am, Your Honor. I’ve appeared before you a dozen times this week alone.”

  “On behalf of various Jedi,” Lorteli clarified. “Would that be correct, Counselor Ven?”

  To Jag’s surprise, the judge did not seem irritated in the least by Ven’s retort, and Jagged began to have a bad feeling about what was going to happen in that courtroom.

  Apparently, Ven had the same feeling, because his reply was uncharacteristically short. “Of course.”

  “And the Jedi are paying you to represent Tahiri Veila?” Lorteli continued.

  Ven drew himself up tall and still. “We haven’t discussed payment yet, Your Honor,” he said. “But for the past two years, Tahiri Veila has been consulting as a corporate … finder, I guess one would say. I understand she’s been very successful, so it was my impression that she would be paying her own expenses.”

  “Not kriffing likely,” Daala muttered under her breath. “She doesn’t have twenty thousand credits to her name.”

  Tahiri was far too well trained—by the Jedi and Darth caedus—to show any surprise she may have felt at Ven’s assertion. But Judge Lorteli seemed momentarily stunned, as though Ven had deviated from a carefully rehearsed script. She let her gaze drop for a moment, obviously consulting her data screen again, then pursed her lips in resolve and looked to Tahiri.

  “Defendant Veila, are you a Jedi?”

  “No.” Tahiri answered without rising, a gesture of disrespect that suggested she knew as well as Ven did where the judge was heading with this argument. “Not at present.”

  “But there was a time when you were a Jedi, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “And that was prior to the recent Galactic Civil War?” Lorteli asked.

  Before Tahiri could answer, Ven was leaning forward, bracing his bulk on the defense table. “Your Honor, I really must protest this line of questioning. My client’s employment prior to the war has no bearing on the plea she’s here to enter.”

  Lorteli did not even look at him. “Your objection is overruled, Counselor Ven.”

  “On what grounds?” he demanded.

  “On the grounds that I haven’t accepted you as this defendant’s representative …and I am unlikely to do so.”

  A murmur of surprise rustled through the courtroom, and Han Solo rose, his mouth open to shout—until his wife pulled him back into his seat and used the Force to pin him there. Jaina simply slipped forward to the edge of her seat, her angry glare fixed on Lorteli. Even Tahiri finally seemed to be taking a keener interest, leaning forward and propping her elbows on the table.

  Once the sergeant of the court had issued the obligatory demand for quiet, Lorteli fixed her gaze on Tahiri again.

  “Answer the question, Defendant Veila. Were you a Jedi prior to the recent Galactic Civil War?”

  “Yes.” Tahiri shot a spiteful glance toward the bewildered Bith at the prosecutor’s table. “Before I committed the acts for which they want to put me on trial.”

  “I understand that,” Lorteli said. “But in your capacity as a Jedi Knight, you were privy to a great many secrets that the Jedi Order might not want revealed in open court, were you not?”

  “Oh, we all know where the Emperor buried his treasure, if that’s what you’re asking,” Tahiri said, slumping back in her chair. “I’ll be glad to draw you a map, if it will get these charges—”

  The rest of her offer was lost to the din of guffaws and chuckles that rolled through the courtroom, and even Daala snorted in amusement.

  “That one has guts,” she said. “I have to give her that.”

  “What does she have to lose?” Jag asked. “A blind Gungan could see that you’ve had this court rigged from the start.”

  Daala smirked. “Now who’s prejudging, Fel? Ju
dge Lorteli is merely trying to ensure that the defendant has adequate counsel.”

  Once the sergeant had restored quiet again, Lorteli glared down at Tahiri. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

  “Take it however you like.” Tahiri glanced back at Han and Leia, then added, “But even if I do know any secrets, I won’t be sharing them with anyone in this room.”

  Lorteli actually smiled at her. “That choice, of course, is entirely yours,” she said. “But since any such information you care to provide might very well have an impact on the disposition of your own case, I cannot allow Nawara Ven—or any other counsel with such a clear conflict of interests—to participate in your defense.”

  The courtroom burst into cries of outrage, and this time Leia Solo did not bother pulling Han back down. Jag looked away, shaking his head in disgust.

  “At least you had enough sense not to gloat in open court,” he said to Daala. “Please tell me you really don’t believe the Jedi—or their allies in the Senate—will respect what you did in there?”

  “Of course not.” Daala deactivated the intercom speaker, then also turned away from the viewing panel. “But I had to send a message of my own. If the Masters believe they can intimidate me by threatening to dissolve the Order—”

  “I wasn’t aware they had,” Jag interrupted. “Everything I hear suggests those apprentices resigned on their own.”

  Daala rolled her eyes. “Please, Head of State, if you were really that naive, the Moffs would have killed you two years ago.” She started across the room toward the beverage center. “May I offer you something to drink? Polar water or fizzee, perhaps?”

  “Nothing, thank you,” Jag said. Daala had stopped offering him intoxicants after their second meeting, a grudging acknowledgment of respect, since he had made it clear that he felt state business deserved clear heads. “But I wish you would reconsider what you’re doing here. It’s not the law that you’re enforcing.”

  Daala opened the cabinet and, without turning around, asked, “Then what is it?”

  “Your will,” he said. “And it’s obvious to more than just the Jedi. When you put Tahiri Veila on trial, and at the same time leave one of the architects of the coup free to retire in peace, it smacks of corruption.”