The sound of the Star-Wake's autonav update jarred Zannah awake from a restless slumber. She had curled herself awkwardly into the pilot's chair, and now her neck was stiff from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. There were plenty of places to lie down and stretch out properly in the cargo hold at the back, but Zannah couldn't sleep in there. Not with all the bodies.

She had removed Wend and Irtanna from the c.o.c.kpit in the first few minutes after their deaths. It had been a struggle getting Wend out of his chair, but her adrenaline levels had still been high from the confrontation with Irtanna and she had managed to drag him down the hall to the cargo hold where his father and brother lay.

Relocating Irtanna had been more difficult. She had a soldier's physique, lean and muscular, and easily weighed twice what Zannah did. At first the girl hadn't even been able to budge the corpse. By the time she realized she would have to call upon the Force to aid her, the excitement of the moment was gone. In the aftermath she'd found it much more difficult to summon the dark side; each time she tried to draw upon her inner anger, her conscience had fought against her. Instead of the familiar heat of power, she'd felt only guilt and doubt. Images of Bordon and his sons lying side by side on the cargo room's floor had clouded her thoughts, making it difficult for her to concentrate.

Zannah had tried to block the images and allow the dark side to flow through her, but she'd been only partly successful. In the end she had relied more on determination and sweat than the power of the Force.

Grunting and straining, she had eventually managed to drag Irtanna for half a meter before having to stop and catch her breath. She had repeated the process again and again, slowly pulling the body down the ship's corridor until Irtanna lay beside the others.

There had been very little blood; apart from the first glancing shot to Bordon's gut, all the wounds had been cauterized by the heat of the blaster bolts. Yet the lack of gore had done nothing to make the bodies'

appearance any less unsettling. Their lifeless eyes had stared up at nothing, compelling Zannah to bend forward and close the lids, her hand trembling as she brushed against the clammy skin. Still not satisfied, she'd hunted around until she found several large blankets to drape over the corpses. Even under the sheets, the profiles of her victims were still somewhat recognizable, but there was nothing more she could do about that. She had only come back to the cargo hold one other time since then, grabbing as many ration kits as she could carry and taking them up to the front, trying not to look at the shrouded bodies at her feet.

In the ensuing seven days she had been both praying for and dreading an end to her journey, when she would be reunited with her Master and begin her training in the ways of the Sith. She never left the c.o.c.kpit except to use the ship's refresher. Whenever she tried to sleep, she could never manage more than a fitful doze plagued with nightmares in which she relived her killing spree over and over.

Each time she woke she would tear open a ration kit and pick at the food, her body slowly replenishing what it had lost during her weeks on Ruusan.

But the rations were meant for a full-grown adult, and she could never finish them. When she was done, she would toss the uneaten portion along with the container down the hall toward the cargo hold. After a few days the smells of a dozen half-finished meals began to mingle into a sickly sweet aroma that hung like a thin curtain in the air. Zannah actually welcomed the cloying scent of rotting food; it covered up the mounting stench of the decaying bodies in the back.

To fight the boredom, she'd tried to imagine what her future would be like as Bane's apprentice. She would focus on everything he'd promised her: the ability to call upon and command the Force at will; the mysterious secrets of the dark side; the power to reach her true potential and fulfill her destiny. Her mind, however, kept returning to the Star-Wakes dead crew. And each time it happened she wondered what her Master would think about such weakness.

The autonav chimed again. Zannah glanced at the readout: The ship would be entering atmosphere in five minutes. She was being prompted to select landing coordinates.

Zannah sat up straight in the pilot's chair, furrowing her brow as she studied the onscreen display. She'd been hoping that the automated systems that had carried the vessel from Ruusan to Onderon would also be programmed to land. Unfortunately, it seemed that task now fell to her...

and she had no idea how to bring the ship down safely.

She punched a b.u.t.ton on the screen labeled LANDING ZONES. A long list of unfamiliar locations and coordinates began to scroll across the display.

She had no clue what any of the numbers meant, and no idea how to select one anyway.

As she stared at the readout-they were entering atmosphere now - Zannah felt the familiar b.u.mp of turbulence. Caught between frustration and panic, she reached out and began randomly poking b.u.t.tons. She stopped only when the autonav beeped twice: Destination accepted.

Heaving a sigh of relief, she collapsed back into her seat and buckled up for touchdown. She tried to peer over the console to get a view through the c.o.c.kpit window of where she was headed, but she was too short to see clearly. All she could make out was kilometers of thick, green canopy stretching out in every direction. Evidently she had selected a landing zone in a less civilized part of the world.

A sobering question crossed her mind. Does the autopilot know how to land in the middle of a forest? Or will it smash me to bits against the treetops?

As if reading her thoughts, the autonav chimed angrily. Zannah read the update: "Suboptimal conditions detected at selected landing zone. Seeking nearest available alternative site."

She felt the ship bank slightly, veering and leveling off to skim the forest in search of a large-enough clearing to land in.

"Alternative landing zone located," the screen a.s.sured her a few moments later, and she felt the nose dip as the vessel began her final descent.

She heard a loud bang and the heavy, staccato pounding of branches striking the exterior of the hull as the Star-Wake plowed through a thin layer of branches en route to her chosen destination on the surface. A second later the ship rocked hard to one side, deflecting off a tree trunk too thick to smash through. Next came a series of heavy, jarring thumps as the ship skipped and skidded across the ground before finally coming to a stop.

Shaken but uninjured, Zannah undid her safety harness and opened the exit hatch. As she descended the vessel's loading ramp, she noticed she was on one end of a large clearing that had been carved from the forest to create a circle nearly two hundred meters in diameter. Much to her surprise, someone was in the middle of the clearing waving her over.

"Whoever's flying that ship of yours must be the worst pilot in the galaxy" the man said, eyeing her up and down as she approached him and stopped a few meters away.

He looked to be in his late twenties, though it was hard to tell because of his scrawny and somewhat scraggly appearance. His long copper-colored hair was full of mats and tangles, and his red beard was patchy and uneven across his grimy face. He wore loose pants and a torn shirt that might have been white beneath the mud and other unidentifiable stains.

Over the shirt he wore a short leather vest that was fraying at the edges, and a pair of heavily scuffed boots. He gave off a sour odor.

"What's the matter, girlie?" he asked. "You don't speak Basic? I said whoever's flying your ship is the worst pilot I ever saw."

"n.o.body's flying it," Zannah answered carefully, glancing back at the ship that was now a good thirty meters behind her. "She was set on auto."

"That explains it," he said with a nod. "Auto's only good at landing on a permacrete runway. Not worth bantha poodoo out here."

The man took a step toward her, and Zannah instinctively took a step back. There was something very wrong about finding this man waiting for her at the heart of a clearing in the middle of the forest. But she wasn't worried about the strangeness of the situation. Instead her mind was desperately trying to think of a way to keep him from discovering the bodies in the Star-Wake's cargo hold.

"Why you using the autopilot out here, girlie? You don't got a pilot on that ship with you?"

Zannah shook her head. "No. There's n.o.body else on board. Just me."

"Just you?" he said with an arched eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"I stole it," she said defiantly. Maybe if she could convince him she had been alone on the vessel, he wouldn't go in and find the bodies.

The man let out a low chuckle. "Stole it, you say?" Then, in a louder voice he called out, "Looks like we got ourselves a thief!"

A dozen men and women stepped out from the thick trees on the edges of the wide clearing the Star-Wake had landed in. They were all human, and most of them seemed to be about the same age as the redhead Zannah had first spoken with. Like him, they were clad in a motley a.s.sortment of soiled, ragged clothing. Several of the new arrivals had appeared from behind the redhead, but more than a few had emerged from the trees on the other side of the clearing behind Zannah, effectively cutting her off from her ship. And, unlike the man who had first greeted her, the newcomers were all armed with vibroblades or blaster rifles.

"How . . . how did you find me?" she demanded, glancing from side to side as she began to realize she was surrounded.

"Scouts saw your ship flying over our territory," the redhead answered.

"Figured if you were looking for a place to touch down, you'd end up here on our landing pad."

"Landing pad?" Zannah repeated in surprise, momentarily distracted from her dangerous situation. "You made this place so ships could land here?"

"Who said anything about ships?" the man answered with a sly grin. He put two fingers to his lips and gave a sharp whistle so loud and shrill it made Zannah wince.

The air above was filled with the sound of a great roaring wind, and a dark shadow blotted out the sun. Zannah looked up in amazement as four enormous winged reptiles swooped down from the sky to land on the far side of the clearing. The creatures were outfitted with bridle and reins, and each wore a large saddle on its back that looked big enough to carry up to three people at once.

"You're beast-riders" she gasped, remembering Tallo's warning when she'd first mentioned Onderon.

"Skelda clan " the man said. "And like I already told you, you're in our territory."

"I'm ... I'm sorry," Zannah said. "I didn't know."

The man shrugged. "Doesn't matter if you knew or not. You want to use a Skelda clan landing pad, you got to pay us for the privilege."

From the corner of her eye Zannah noticed his companions slowly drawing in tighter around her.

"I don't have any money," she said, taking a half step backward.

"That's okay," the man replied nonchalantly. "We'll just take your ship."

Zannah spun on her heel and tried to run for the forest as the man lunged for her. He'd been expecting her to make a break for it, and he was quick. He was on her after only a few steps, tackling her from behind. He knocked her to the ground, his weight slamming her to the hard dirt. And the next instant he was flying backward through the air.

He hit the ground with a hard grunt, the wind knocked out of him as he landed on his side five meters away. Zannah scrambled back to her feet.

The other members of his clan had rushed forward when she started to run; now they all took a quick step back, weapons raised high above their heads. They were staring at her with wide-eyed expressions of fear and disbelief.

She turned back to the leader when she heard him laughing. He picked himself up off the ground and winked at her.

"Looks like we got ourselves a little Jedi in training," he said, loud enough for his companions to hear. "What brought you to Onderon, little Jedi? Decided to run away from your Master?"

"I'm not a Jedi" Zannah said in cold whisper.

"That's right," he agreed. "You don't know how to control your power, do you? It only comes out when you're mad or afraid. Isn't that right?"

Zannah clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes, but didn't say anything.

"Listen, little Jedi," he said, pulling a small blade from his boot and beginning to walk slowly toward her. "There are twelve of us and only one of you. You really think you can take us all on?"

"Maybe," Zannah said, thrusting out her chin.

"What about them?" he asked, tilting his head in the direction of the flying beasts as he continued his cautious advance. "One command from any of us and the drexls will rip your pretty little blond head clean off your body. Do you really think your powers will be enough to stop them?"

"No," Zannah admitted. In the back of her mind she felt something twitch, almost as if someone was calling out to her.

"It's time for you to give up, girlie," the redhead told her with a cruel grin. He was only a few steps away from her now, his blade held out before him. "You're all alone."

Zannah smiled back at him. "No, I'm not."

As the words left her lips a dark shadow fell across the two of them. The man had just enough time to look up before he was plucked from the ground by the swooping talons of a drexl far larger than any of the four he had called down earlier. It let loose a scream that, shook the ground beneath Zannah's feet as it arced back up toward the sky. Astride the great beast's neck sat the familiar figure of Darth Bane.

The drexl climbed to a height of thirty meters, then released its deadly grip on the redheaded man. His limp body plunged to the ground below, landing with a dull thud and the sharp crack of bones.

The sight of their leader's mangled corpse dropping from the sky spurred the rest of the clan into action. With whooping cries and shrill whistles, they raced to their mounts to take the battle to the air, all thoughts of the little girl on the ground forgotten.

The first drexl off the ground had only two riders. The woman in front handled the reins, focusing all her attention and energy on the difficult task of steering and controlling the mount. The man seated behind her served as her eyes and strategist, shouting out instructions she followed without question-when to climb, when to dive, when to bank, and when to strike. The empty seat behind them was no doubt where the redheaded man would have sat had he not been killed.

The remaining drexls each carried a full complement of three riders-one to work the reins, one to give the orders, and one armed with a large blaster rifle. The bolts would have little effect against a drexl's thick hide, but a well-placed shot could bring down an enemy rider from long range. However, the offensive advantage of the third rider was offset by the extra weight that made the mount slower and less maneuverable.

With only two pa.s.sengers, the first drexl was able to quickly outdistance the others. It climbed into the clear blue sky where Bane and his new pet circled defiantly, issuing a challenge that could not be ignored.

As this first opponent drew near, the Dark Lord's flier screamed its war cry and veered to intercept it. From the ground Zannah watched as the two reptavians clashed, the beasts seeming to throw themselves at each other in midair. Grappling together, they plunged planetward in a short but savage confrontation. The two great bodies twisted and writhed against each other, buffeted by wings and slashed by claws that glinted in the sun. Tails lashed out, attempting to blind the enemy flier or dislodge a rider. Jaws bit and snapped as the drexls' oversized heads danced and weaved atop the serpentine necks.

The beast-riders had counted on their skill and experience in aerial combat to carry them to victory against a lone rider overwhelmed by the struggle to control a flier by himself. They didn't realize that the Force gave Bane complete and total command of the creature. Without this advantage, their defeat was never in doubt. Bane's mount was larger and stronger, it carried the weight of a single rider, and it had no reins, bridle, or saddle to enc.u.mber its movements.

Less than twenty meters above the ground, Bane's drexl twisted, ducked, and tore out the throat of its enemy. Ten meters above the ground it disengaged from its foe, pulled out of the deadly free fall, and soared victoriously upward. The other drexl, mortally wounded, crashed to the dirt, a landing that killed the mount and both riders instantly.

The entire sequence had taken less than ten seconds, yet it had allowed the other Skelda clan flier teams to get high above their quarry, giving them a tactical advantage. With powerful flaps of its mighty wings, Bane's mount rose up to meet them. They responded with a barrage of blasterfire aimed at the mysterious lone rider, only to see the Sith Master ignite his lightsaber and deflect the incoming bolts.

One of the enemy fliers swooped in toward him, a feint meant to draw Bane's attention from the other two. The beast dived past him, a few meters too distant to actually engage in combat, then banked away sharply as the rider yanked hard on the reins. As they flew by, Bane reached out with the Force and ripped away the harness securing the saddle to the drexTs back. There was a trio of startled and then terrified screams as the saddle broke free and the riders plummeted hundreds of meters to the ground below. The mount, oblivious to their plight, continued to circle upward in preparation for another dive.

Bane didn't take the time to revel in the fear of his fallen enemies.

Before they even hit the ground he'd turned his attention to the third opponent, unleashing a storm of Sith lightning that reduced the riders to ash and the drexl into a hunk of charred and smoking flesh that dropped from the sky.

With a single thought Bane directed his mount's attention to the lone remaining flier team... a tactical error on his part. For even though its riders had been slain, the second drexl was still alive. Acting on primal instinct, it had veered back to attack the unfamiliar male invading its territory.

The riderless drexl slammed into Bane's flier the exact instant he engaged the final team. The three beasts intertwined with one another, becoming a single, screaming ma.s.s of flesh, claws, and teeth hurtling toward the ground below. A spray of hot, foamy blood splashed across Bane's face as the creatures ripped one another apart. For a brief instant he glimpsed one of the other riders through the flailing wings and limbs of their mounts, her features frozen as she realized they were all tumbling toward a gruesome and inescapable end.

Bane released his hold on the drexl's mind and concentrated his awareness on the terror of the other three riders. He drank in their fear, using it to fuel his own emotions. He focused his power and channeled it through the orbalisks, letting them gorge themselves on the dark side. In return they pumped a fresh dose of adrenaline and hormones into his blood, allowing him to generate even more power in a cycle he repeated over and over until the moment before impact.

Zannah saw the last three flying creatures lock onto one another. As they dropped from the sky, spiraling down faster and faster, she watched them, waiting for one to break free and mount back up to the heavens. None ever did.

She screamed in horror as they all slammed into the ground together. The sound of the crash was like an explosion; the shock wave knocked Zannah off her feet and launched a great cloud of dust and debris into the air.

The cloud rolled quickly over the ground to envelop her.

The would-be Sith apprentice struggled to rise, coughing and choking as small chunks of dirt and stone rained down on her. Through the haze she stared in wonder at the twenty-meter-wide, two-meter-deep crater left behind. In the center was a gore-covered mountain of pulverized flesh: the individual bodies of mounts and riders compacted into a single pulpy, quivering ma.s.s. And walking toward her from the carnage was the blood-soaked form of her Master.

He was limping and hunched over, with one arm clutched at his side. Yet even through the obscuring dust Zannah recognized him immediately. She could only stare in utter disbelief as he drew nearer, his gait becoming more sure and steady with every stride. With each step he stood taller and straighter, and when he let his arm fall away from his side, her heart began to pound with excitement.

Darth Bane was alive! And the power that had let him survive this incredible ordeal-the power of the dark side-would one day be hers to command! Overcome with emotion, she stepped forward to embrace her Master ... only to recoil when she saw the alien growth protruding from his chest.

"They are called orbalisks," Bane said, offering an explanation rather than a greeting. "Creatures that feed on the power of the dark side.

Without them I could never have survived what you just witnessed." He gasped faintly as he spoke, though whether from pain or the recent exertion of using the Force - or possibly both - she couldn't tell.

He stopped in front of her, and Zannah reached out slowly to touch the cold, hard sh.e.l.l. She pulled her hand back with a start when she felt it twitch beneath her fingers.

"They feel the power of the dark side within you " Bane said, speaking like a proud father.

"How do you get them off?" Zannah asked, her question an equal measure of curiosity and revulsion.

"I don't," Bane replied. "This armor is permanent."

"Will I have to wear them, too?" she asked softly.

Bane considered before replying. "The orbalisks give me great power, but there is a cost. The physical demands can be ... taxing. It would be too much for you to bear as a child. Maybe too much for you to ever bear."

Relieved, Zannah only nodded. Her Master seemed to be almost fully recovered now, though his face and armor were still drenched in blood.

She noticed him looking past her at the Star-Wake on the far edge of the clearing.

"I stole a ship," she told him. "I... I had to kill the crew."

"You did what was necessary to achieve your goal," Bane said. "You showed the power and the strength of will to destroy those who stood in your way. You saw what you wanted and you took it, no matter what the cost.

"You acted like a Sith."