"We'll see what Cilghal tells us. Until then, we relax."

Ben put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Relax-that he could do. he could do.

And though he was countless light-years from home, only a few weeks into his father's ten-year exile, sore from physical labor and being beaten by a combat trainer, he decided that things could be a lot worse.

It was good to be alive.

Read on for an excerpt from Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Omen by Christie Golden Published by Del Rey Books

ORBITING ZIOST.

TWO STANDARD YEARS AGO.

DICIAN FELT THE PLANET EVEN BEFORE IT APPEARED ON THE MAIN bridge monitor of the Poison Moon Poison Moon. She sensed it had seen her, as she now saw it, this seemingly harmless world of blue and white and green, and she smiled gently. The pale geometric tattoos on her face, which stood out in stark contrast with her dark skin tones, crinkled with the gesture. This was the destination she had beheld in her mind's eye a short while ago, the unvoiced answer to the question of what she was hoping to intercept here. She had ordered the crew of this frigate to make all speed, and only hoped she was in time.

Where are you going, charming one?

To unopened eyes and dead senses, this planet would seem a world much as any other: a world with oceans and landma.s.ses, heavily, practically entirely forested, with two white, icecapped poles on either end. White clouds drifted lazily above it.

But it was not a world like any other.

It was Ziost. Homeworld of the Sith.

What was left of the Sith Order now remained silent and in hiding on Korriban, of course. She would return there soon, but not without the prize she had come to claim.

Dician realized she was leaning forward slightly in antic.i.p.ation, and settled back in her command chair. She gently pushed her excitement down lest it interfere with her mission.

"Wayniss, take us in to orbit." In her role as an intelligence gatherer, the light, musical tone of her voice often deceived others into thinking her much, much more harmless than she was. Her crew knew better.

"Aye, Captain," the chief pilot of the Poison Moon Poison Moon replied. Wayniss was a laconic man, not at all Force-sensitive, pleased enough to do as he was told in exchange for the generous pay he was receiving. In his own way, the graying ex-pirate was as fair, honorable, and hardworking as many so-called upstanding citizens. He had done well by Dician on this mission already. replied. Wayniss was a laconic man, not at all Force-sensitive, pleased enough to do as he was told in exchange for the generous pay he was receiving. In his own way, the graying ex-pirate was as fair, honorable, and hardworking as many so-called upstanding citizens. He had done well by Dician on this mission already.

"Any sign of the meditation sphere?" she asked Ithila, her sensor officer. Ithila leaned forward, her face, which would have been beautiful in the traditionally Hapan manner if not for the horrific burn scar that marred the right side, furrowed in concentration.

"Negative," Ithila replied as Ziost appeared in the forward viewports and the Poison Moon Poison Moon settled into orbit around it. "No indication of it on the planet surface." She turned to regard her captain. "Looks like we beat it here." settled into orbit around it. "No indication of it on the planet surface." She turned to regard her captain. "Looks like we beat it here."

Dician smiled again. No mistakes. All that remained was to capture the small vessel itself.

Dician settled in to wait, her dark eyes on the slowly turning planet in front of her. It gazed back at her, and she felt a tug in her heart. She wanted to land the Poison Moon Poison Moon, to walk Ziost's forests as other Sith had done in ages past. But that was not why they were here. She must think of the good of the One, the Order, above her own yearnings. One day, perhaps, she would stand upon the surface of this world. But that day would not be today.

They did not have long to wait. Only a few moments later, Ithila said, "Picking it up on long-range sensors, Captain."

Dician sat up straighter in her chair. "You have all served well and brilliantly. Now, as our smuggler pilot might say, it is time to close this deal."

It was time for her, Dician, to be perfect. She could not afford a mistake now.

She felt it even as Ithila transmitted the image to her personal viewscreen. There it was, the Sith meditation sphere. She regarded it for a moment, taking it in-the spherical shape, the orange-yellow-red hue, the twin sets of bat-like wings on either side of it. It resembled an enormous eye.

"h.e.l.lo again, charming one," she said in her most pleasant voice.

Silence from the sphere.

"As you see, we have antic.i.p.ated your arrival. Why have you come to Ziost?"

Home.

The voice was inside her head, masculine and intensely focused. A little thrill of exhilaration shivered through Dician. This was not a pet to be coaxed, but a mount to be broken. It respected strength and will.

Dician had plenty of both.

There is a better place for you than on an abandoned world. Dician did not speak the words. Her melodic voice was no a.s.set in this negotiation; the focus and strength of her thoughts were.

The vessel continued its approach to Ziost, not wavering in the slightest, but Dician sensed she had its attention. It would listen.

You are a Sith meditation sphere. Come with me to where the Sith are now. Serve us, as you were designed to do. She let herself visualize Korriban as it was now: with not just two Sith, but many who were One, with apprentices in need of focus and training in the power of the dark side if they were to achieve the glory and power that were rightfully theirs.

"It's slowing its approach," Ithila said. "It's come to a full halt."

Dician didn't bother to tell the Hapan woman that she already knew that; that she was intimately connected with this meditation sphere, this ... Ship.

It seemed particularly interested in the younglings, and she understood that this had been the focus of its design. To protect and educate apprentices. To prepare them for their destinies.

You will come to Korriban. You will serve me, Dician, and you will teach the younglings. You will fulfill your intended purpose.

This was the moment upon which everything hinged. She sensed scrutiny from the vessel. Dician was unashamed of her strengths and let it see her freely. It sensed her will, her drive, her pa.s.sions, her desire for perfection.

Perfection, said Ship. It mulled over the word.

Nothing less serves the dark side fully, Dician replied. You will help me to attain perfection for the Sith You will help me to attain perfection for the Sith.

Perfection cannot be obtained by hiding.

Dician blinked. This had caught her by surprise. It is wisdom. We will stay isolated, grow strong, and then claim what is ours It is wisdom. We will stay isolated, grow strong, and then claim what is ours.

Ship considered. Doubt gnawed at the corner of Dician's mind like a gizka. She crushed it utterly, ruthlessly, and poured all her will into the demand.

The Jedi grow strong and numerous. It is not time to hide. I will not serve. I will find a better purpose.

She felt it shut down in her mind, close itself off to her in what was tantamount to a dismissal. Dician felt her cheeks grow hot. How could it have refused?

"Captain," said Ithila, "The ship has resumed course to Ziost."

"I can see that," Dician snapped, and Ithila stared openly. Ship was a rapidly disappearing sphere on her screen, and as she watched it was lost to sight.

Dician returned her attention to her crew, who, she realized, were all looking at her with confused expressions on their faces. She took a deep, steadying breath.

"The vessel would not have been appropriate for us," she said, her pleasant voice challenging anyone to disagree. "Its programming is antiquated and outdated. Our original message was successful. It is time to pick up the shuttle crews and return home. Plot a course through hypers.p.a.ce for Omega Three Seven Nine," she instructed Wayniss. He turned around and his fingers flew lightly over the console.

The Poison Moon Poison Moon's original mission had not been to recover Ship, as Dician had begun thinking of the sphere. Dician had initially been sent to track down a Twi'lek woman named Alema Rar and her base of operations. Rar had somehow inherited a lost Force technique that enabled her to project phantoms across s.p.a.ce. Dician had been ordered to destroy both the woman and the dark side energy source lest either fall into Jedi hands. And then she had been forced to choose between two unexpected prizes.

When the Poison Moon Poison Moon arrived at Alema Rar's base, coming in stealth, Dician had discovered they were not alone. One of the two vessels already at the asteroid was none other than the arrived at Alema Rar's base, coming in stealth, Dician had discovered they were not alone. One of the two vessels already at the asteroid was none other than the Millennium Falcon Millennium Falcon. Subsequent observations of her operations revealed that it was more than likely her notorious owner Han Solo was piloting her-and quite possibly his wife, Leia Organa, traitor to the n.o.ble name of Skywalker, was with him. Her crews had placed bombs on the asteroid that had been Alema's base, and Dician, not about to let such a victory slip away, was turning her attention to the destruction of the Corellian freighter.

But before Dician could issue the orders to detonate the bombs and attack the Falcon Falcon, Ship had emerged from the base-without Alema Rar.

Dician had made the decision to follow and attempt to capture Ship, forgoing an attack on the Falcon Falcon. She had ordered the bombs to detonate and the crews that had placed them to await her return on the largest asteroid in the system, designated Omega 379. No doubt they were antic.i.p.ating her swift return.

Dician pressed her full lips together. She had chosen tracking Ship over blowing the Millennium Falcon Millennium Falcon out of the skies. She had done exactly what she had threatened her crew not to do-made a mistake. And now she could claim neither victory. out of the skies. She had done exactly what she had threatened her crew not to do-made a mistake. And now she could claim neither victory.

Let Ship remain isolated on Ziost. It would find no one to serve, no one to permit it to do that which it was designed for.

In her irritation, Dician let the thought comfort her.

Chapter One.

JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT.

JYSELLA HORN FELT LIKE A PART OF HER, TOO, WAS ENCASED IN CARBONITE. Frozen and isolated and unable to move. Yet somehow she forced her legs to carry her forward, toward the Jedi Temple that would, she hoped, have some answers for her today.

Ever since the inexplicable and horrifying moment when her older brother, Valin, had turned on their parents, eyes wild, teeth bared, screaming nonsense, part of the youngest Horn had gone with him into the cold prison in which he was now encased.

She had always been the baby of the family, the tag-along, the me too! me too! little sister. Ten standard years separated the Horn siblings, and it had only been in recent years that they had begun relating as friends and not just as brother and sister. Jysella had always idolized her easygoing, levelheaded big brother. The lives of her rather famous family had been fraught with danger almost since the day she was born. Often, she and Valin were separated from their parents and even from each other for long periods of time. Three Jedi in a family did not make for much time spent doing traditional familial things. But the challenges and the separation had always brought them closer, not driven wedges between them. little sister. Ten standard years separated the Horn siblings, and it had only been in recent years that they had begun relating as friends and not just as brother and sister. Jysella had always idolized her easygoing, levelheaded big brother. The lives of her rather famous family had been fraught with danger almost since the day she was born. Often, she and Valin were separated from their parents and even from each other for long periods of time. Three Jedi in a family did not make for much time spent doing traditional familial things. But the challenges and the separation had always brought them closer, not driven wedges between them.

So the sight of her brother coldly staring at them through the oneway transparisteel panel, knowing that he had attacked both their parents and claimed that his beloved sister, father, and mother were "fakes," had somehow been stolen away- Jysella shivered. Cold, she was cold, he was cold and in carbonite, her kind, grinning brother, the gentle and loved one, whom they said was criminally insane.

Bazel Warv laid a heavy green hand on her narrow shoulder as they climbed up the long ceremonial staircase of the Processional Way toward the Jedi Temple. A series of grunts and squeaks issued from his tusked mouth as he offered rea.s.surances.

"I know, I know," Jysella said to the Gamorrean with a sigh. His small, piggy eyes were full of compa.s.sion. "Everyone's doing their best. It doesn't make it any easier."

Bazel, "Barv" as his little circle of close friends called him, considered this and nodded agreement. He squeezed her shoulder, putting all his concern into the gesture, and Jysella forced herself not to wince. Around his fellow Jedi, Bazel tended to forget how strong he was. With little Amelia, the young war orphan who had been adopted by Han and Leia Solo, though, the Gamorrean was gentle to a fault. Amelia often went for piggyback rides on Barv's huge shoulders, laughing and giggling. The little girl was fond of everyone in "the Unit," as Barv, Yaqeel Saavis, Valin, and Jysella called themselves.

"The big guy's right," Yaqeel, walking on Jysella's other side, commented. "Don't underestimate what a group of top Jedi can do when their backs are against the wall."

Jysella had to force herself to again refrain from wincing, this time from the coolness of the Bothan's words. She'd known both Barv and Yaqeel for a long time now. They had been Valin's friends first, but had drawn Jysella happily into the circle as she grew older.

Yaqeel used words in the same controlled, deadly way she used her lightsaber. Normally the acerbic, cynical comments she was fond of drawling didn't bother Jysella in the slightest. But now she felt ... raw. Like her emotional skin had been filleted away and even the slightest breeze caused agony.

Barv oinked, annoyed, and Yaqeel's ear twitched slightly. Barv was convinced that the Jedi were working hard to find a cure for Valin's condition not because their own necks were threatened, but because it was the right thing to do. Because that's what Jedi did did.

Tears of grat.i.tude stung Jysella's eyes as she smiled at her friend. Yaqeel's ears lowered slightly, a sign that Barv's simple faith had gotten to her as well. That wasn't unusual. Everyone-well, everyone except dear, slightly dense Barv himself-knew that Yaqeel had a soft spot for "the big guy," and no one blamed her for it. Barv was uncomplicated and true, with a heart as big as the galaxy and an unshakable sense of right and wrong.

Jysella desperately wanted to believe him in this case, but the fear, fluttering at the back of her throat like a living thing, prevented it.

"Anyway, honey, we know your brother's got his head screwed on right," Yaqeel said in a gentler tone of voice. "Whatever's happening to him, I'm convinced it's only temporary. What you need to do is stop watching newsvids. They're all about reporting whatever sounds juiciest. And that's usually not not the truth." the truth."

They'd reached the Temple entrance. Once, the Jedi Temple had been notable for its five spires, a unique feature of the Coruscant skyline. But much of that had been destroyed during the Yuuzhan Vong War. A great deal of the interior of the Temple had been restored to its former appearances-right down to the marble patterns on the floors in some cases-but the exterior, a collection of several stone and transparisteel pyramids in a variety of sizes, was aggressively modern. Jysella found she missed the familiar statues of four former Masters that once stood guard over the main entrance.

She sighed. She'd just turned around to speak to her friends when she found herself caught up in a nearly crushing hug. A grin curved her lips despite herself and she hugged Barv back.

"Thanks, Barv," she said, using up the last bit of air he'd left in her lungs.

He released her and she gulped oxygen, smiling up at him. Yaqeel embraced her now, all warm, slightly spicy-scented fur and a softness that most people never really got to know. "You'll feel better once you're doing something," Yaqeel said.

Barv allowed that he himself always felt better when he was doing something. Usually that involved attacking bad guys. Yaqeel patted Jysella's cheek. "Sure you don't want us coming in with you?"

"No, it's okay. You two have done enough. I-I don't know what I would have done without you, honestly," Jysella said, the words burbling out of her. "Mom and Dad have been so focused on Valin-and I mean, of course they should should be focused on him. I am, too. Just-" be focused on him. I am, too. Just-"

"You don't need to say it," Yaqeel interrupted her gently, sensing, as Jysella now did, that if the human girl continued she'd lose what tenuous control she had. "We're the Unit. And the Unit can always rely on each other. You'd have done the same for us."

Barv nodded vigorously. And it was true. Jysella and Valin would have done the same for either of these two friends and fellow Jedi Knights. Done a lot more, as she knew they would have if they had to.

"Well," she said, trying to put a brave face on it, "with you two and the whole Jedi Order, I'm sure we'll have Valin out of that carbonite slab in no time. Though I have to admit, when I was a kid, there were plenty of times when I'd have loved it if he'd been a coffee table that didn't talk back."

It was a feeble attempt at humor, but they all seized it and laughed. Gotta laugh or I'll cry Gotta laugh or I'll cry, Jysella thought. And Valin wouldn't want her to cry. She'd done altogether too much of it in recent days.

Grinning, Yaqeel slipped her arm through Barv's. "Come on. I'll buy you a caf. We still on for lunch, 'Sella?"

Lunch. She'd forgotten about that. She seemed to be forgetting a lot these days, except the overwhelming longing for everything to be all right again.

"Oh, right. Yes, come back in a few hours. I'm sure Cilghal will want me out of her ..." She paused and laughed, a genuine laugh this time. "Except Mon Calamari don't have hair, do they?"

It was a good note to end on, and the three remnants of the Unit waved at one another. Jysella watched Barv and Yaqeel walk off, then sighed and turned to enter the Temple. She smiled politely at the five apprentices who were stationed there as guardians.

How many times had she been here before? She had lost count. It had always been a special place, as it was to every Jedi. For long stretches, when she was not out on a.s.signment, it had been home. But now it seemed even more to her to be a bastion of hope. Somewhere within this vast repository of knowledge, some information that could help her brother had to be housed. Some clue as to what had happened to him, and how to put it right.

Barv thought so. She clung to that hope as well.

Jysella's booted feet rang in the vast, open s.p.a.ce of the Temple entrance hall as she headed toward the turbolift that would take her to the First Wing of the archives. She crossed her arms, fidgeting slightly, as the turbolift hummed softly and bore her to the top floor.

She found Cilghal in a small alcove in the depths of the stacks, seated at one of the tables and surrounded by tall piles of glowing blue data tapes and datacards. Her smooth brown head was bent over an ancient text, and her flipper-like hands were encased in gloves to protect the delicate old flimsi. She looked up at Jysella's approach.

"Jysella. Right on time," she said, her gravelly voice warm.

Jysella offered her a weak smile in return and slipped into the seat across from her. Even though this was the arranged time for them to meet, it was clear that Cilghal had been here for a while already. There were piles of datapads on the table beside her and curious objects she had obviously signed out in order to examine.

"I ..." Jysella sighed and reached out for a datapad, holding it in a limp hand. "I'm sorry, Master Cilghal. I don't even know where to start start trying to help." trying to help."

Cilghal regarded her sympathetically, slightly turning her head to fix Jysella with a single large, bulbous eye. "You know everyone is doing everything they can. It is important to us all that your brother recover fully-and that we understand what happened to him. With understanding will, we very much hope, come a cure, and the ability to negotiate his release from the GA."

Jysella winced and brushed back a lock of reddish brown hair that had escaped the haphazard bun she'd pinned up this morning.