"And reducing wasteful conflict is bad how?" Arkadia rested her chin on the back of her hand. "You've seen what it's like out there. Can you really say rivalry among Sith is good good for the galaxy?" for the galaxy?"

Kerra's grin faded. The woman was right. As proud as Kerra was of her insight, it didn't change the fact that, from all she had seen thus far, the Arkadianate appeared to be a safe place for those who lived in it. If this was Arkadia's worst secret, it was hard to find an objection to it. But she wondered why the Sith Lord had wanted her to come to the realization on her own.

"I did," Arkadia said, catching the thought through the Force. "Because it's important to me that we understand each other-and that you understand what I have to offer." Stepping to the middle of the atrium, she spread long, silver-clad arms. "I'm offering sanctuary to all your students, here on Syned."

Kerra stared. "How do I know you won't put them to work making weapons?"

"You don't-and I will," Arkadia said. "I have my own borders to protect and wars to wage. But that will only be some some of the time. With me, they have some hope of doing something else, besides. And in relative safety," she added. of the time. With me, they have some hope of doing something else, besides. And in relative safety," she added.

Rusher shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lord Arkadia," he said, "but your neighbors do things a lot differently. If you want the kids-and, hey, if you do, just ask-why don't you just take them?" Catching Kerra's angry glare, he added: "Not that you should."

"Because I want Kerra's goodwill," Arkadia said. "The hospitality I am offering is genuine, and I need her to know that-before I can ask something in return."

Here it comes, Kerra thought. Agreeable demeanor or not, Arkadia was still Sith. The students weren't enough. "What, do you want Diligence Diligence, too?" Kerra could almost hear Rusher's teeth grinding at the mention.

"Nothing like that," Arkadia said, gesturing deferentially to the man. "I'm sure Brigadier Rusher is talented, but specialists specialists don't really fit into my scheme. Their thinking is too ... narrow." She smiled primly at Rusher. "No offense." don't really fit into my scheme. Their thinking is too ... narrow." She smiled primly at Rusher. "No offense."

"No defense," Rusher said, breathing easier. "I'd be a goner the second you decided I'd serve you better as an accountant." Rubbing his gloved palms, he added, "We are available for hire, though."

Kerra ignored him. "Then what do you want? Why would you possibly want my goodwill goodwill?"

Arkadia didn't answer. Another aide had delivered a datapad that the Sith Lord was scanning with interest. Looking up, she said, "I have something to attend to, but I will call for you both. Until then, I hope you'll remain here as my guests."

Kerra looked back to see several members of Arkadia's Citizen Guard stationed before the magnetic seal. Arkadia might offer hope, but she didn't take chances with her own.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Life was like a cannon, Beld Yulan had always said. "You've got to clear the empty casings before you can fire again."

As with most things-at least, up until he went Odionite-Rusher's old mentor had been right. Depression had nearly claimed Rusher, aboard Diligence Diligence after Gazzari. But in a strange way, the Jedi and her brood had been the distraction he needed to get his bearings again. The escape from Byllura had woken him up. He still had a crew that needed his protection and guidance. after Gazzari. But in a strange way, the Jedi and her brood had been the distraction he needed to get his bearings again. The escape from Byllura had woken him up. He still had a crew that needed his protection and guidance.

But that shell had been fired. It was time to move on. Here, in just a few hours in Calimondretta, he'd gotten interested in starting over again. Arkadia's people had done amazing things with fabrication, feats that might make future artillery pieces lighter. Watching the Twi'lek supply master work-while he had still had that job-had also been instructive. Rusher saw three ways he might reorganize Diligence Diligence's cargo pods, to speed weapon deployment. He didn't expect Arkadia would allow him to recruit here, but his visit would result in a better future for Rusher's Brigade.

Reaching that future meant clearing the barrel. The refugees had to go. And there, the casing was stuck.

Entering Calimondretta, he'd realized why nothing larger than a fighter was allowed to enter the facility: the place was an icehouse for real. The roof panels in the atrium might be transparisteel, but the rafters and frame were solid ice. Not a place to light up engines-or even land near, given the shaking he'd felt when the trundle cars rolled out. Most of the city might be safely ensconced in the great tunnels, but its exit to the outside world had to be protected. Diligence Diligence could come no closer; the refugees would have to cross the ice sheet. could come no closer; the refugees would have to cross the ice sheet.

But bringing seventeen hundred students across in trundle cars would take days. The airtight cabs held only four passengers, with cargo following behind on sleighs. He didn't even want to think about trucking space suits for a thousand aliens of different sizes.

A sticky problem, but one that Arkadia's people had been working with him in earnest to solve. Now the solution was nearly in hand. Making notations on a datapad, Rusher descended an escalator into a bluish grotto. The locals were big on their algae, he saw; colossal tubes filled with the bubbling stuff rose thirty meters around an interior plaza, serving as both light source and living art for Arkadianites dashing off to work.

Blue goo in an ice cave. Well, it beat Daiman and his statue, Rusher thought. But the coursing bubbles didn't seem to be calming anyone. Syned never slept. Everybody had something to do, someplace to go.

Almost everyone.

"Hey," called a voice from below.

Rusher looked down. There sat Kerra, elbow propped on one of her knees, at the foot of one of the massive foaming cylinders lighting Reflection Prospect.

He had to look twice. That nervous energy was gone. Since meeting Kerra, he'd only seen her in action. Even after he'd spirited her away from Byllura, she'd stayed on the bridge, fidgeting and quizzing him about their destination. He'd finally retired, just to keep her from straining her injured leg. Jedi healing didn't seem to be a class everyone took.

Kerra simply slumped, drinking from a container like a beggar outside a cantina.

"A little early to start, isn't it?" he asked. "The sun just came up."

"For the fifth time today," she responded, opening the lid. "It's water."

"Your loss." Rusher looked from side to side. The only other people not heading off somewhere were a couple of Arkadia's Citizen Guard, watching Kerra from a respectful distance across the hall. He thought he spied another up on the balcony, above.

Kerra snapped the lid shut. "What's she got you doing?"

Rusher explained the work he was doing to bring his passengers into the city. "They've got a big icecrawler that'll do the trick, but they need my help on a bushing we can marry to one of our cargo ramps," he said. "That's the problem when we mounted the spaceliner atop the cargo pods. All our doors on the ground are for heavy equipment."

"It's not your only problem," Kerra said, tucking the container in her vest pocket. "I haven't decided they should go."

"What, the doors?"

"The refugees!"

"You sure that's water? Because you're not making sense," Rusher said. "It's my ship and it's Arkadia's planet. Who are you, again?"

Kerra straightened against the tube and shook her fists in the air. "I knew she'd take you in! I'm surprised your drool didn't freeze to the floor!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Ever since you met, you've been orbiting her her like a satellite." like a satellite."

Rusher chuckled, despite himself. "Well, her her is a handsome woman," he said. is a handsome woman," he said. Striking Striking was more like it, but the kid seemed agitated enough. "And she's created all this. You don't see anything to admire there?" was more like it, but the kid seemed agitated enough. "And she's created all this. You don't see anything to admire there?"

"She's a Sith."

"Yeah, but she also knows stuff. A lot of people out here don't know their own history, much less anyone else's," he said. "I like a woman who keeps up on current events ... a thousand years ago."

Kerra stood, and as she did, her Arkadianite shadows across the plaza stapped to attention. She waved her hand, dismissively. "They're always watching me. I'm in a box until she needs me-for whatever whatever."

"Well, whatever she's up to, she doesn't sound like she's going to hurt you," he said, "or she'd have done it by now."

"Terrific."

Rusher laughed. "I don't know what you're expecting, but this looks like a pretty good deal. We didn't have any idea how to get you back to the Republic, anyway, and a lot of routes just lead somewhere worse." Kerra started walking away, but he went on. "Tan seems to like it here. And not only do we get to leave-they're helping us!"

Kerra spun, yelling up into his face. "So you're just going to go somewhere else? Serve another Sith Lord?"

"There aren't many other customers," Rusher said. He didn't know many of the neighboring Sith Lords, but Mandragall's practices had spread a long way. Someone would be willing to use an independent operator.

"You could do something else!"

"Like what?" He looked at the commuters, dashing to their assignments. "I'm a little old to start tending to riding animals."

"Something real," Kerra said, shoving aside his trench coat collar and grabbing at the medals on his chest. "Look at you, Rusher. You're wearing insignia that you've just made up made up. You're not part of anything real. You don't fight for anyone."

"I'm wasting my life, is that it?" Taking her arm, Rusher edged her out of the foot traffic and into the glow of the towering alga vial. "Look, what exactly did you think would happen? That I'd carry you all across Daiman's creation and more to get you someplace I've never been? This sector is my home," he said. "This is my job job. I'm not some scoundrel with a heart of gold that you can sweet-talk into joining your ..."

"Don't say it!" Kerra tried to force past. "This conversation is over!"

Rusher blocked her path and grabbed her wrists. "Look, you've got a lot of opinions-but not a lot of facts. You don't understand anything."

"Let me go." Hazel eyes blazed with hate.

"In a minute-once you understand what it is that I do," Rusher said. "Yes, I'm a mercenary. Yes, I work for the Sith. But there's no one else to work for."

"That's not true," Kerra said. "You could work for the people people!"

"Fine. You tell me how," Rusher said. "You want me to be a part of something, but you don't know what what. It's all good to set your own course when you're just one person, carrying around a shiny stick. But I'm a cannoneer. Those artillery pieces weigh tons! Some take sixty operators to set up, fire, and withdraw! How am I supposed to feed those people, to fuel that ship, while working for your you-don't-know-what? On the grift?"

"That's how you do it now!"

"Yeah, with the permission of the Sith whose territory I'm in. How many places do you think I could land Diligence Diligence if I were a renegade?" Rusher shot a glance back toward the watchers and lowered his voice. "They'd enslave every person in my crew, and they wouldn't care what happened to them. You've got a galaxy of people to worry about. I've got five hundred and sixty. And I'm not going to lose any more," he said. "So before you go deciding what other people's responsibility to the galaxy is, maybe you'd better take a closer look. They might have responsibilities already." if I were a renegade?" Rusher shot a glance back toward the watchers and lowered his voice. "They'd enslave every person in my crew, and they wouldn't care what happened to them. You've got a galaxy of people to worry about. I've got five hundred and sixty. And I'm not going to lose any more," he said. "So before you go deciding what other people's responsibility to the galaxy is, maybe you'd better take a closer look. They might have responsibilities already."

Kerra stared angrily at him. And then he saw her eyes widen, just a millimeter, those black eyebrows beginning to arc. For the first time since meeting her, Rusher saw something new in that small, determined face.

Doubt.

He released her hands and let out a deep breath, surprised and a little ashamed by the intensity of his outburst. He kept forgetting: Kerra Holt was just a kid, not much older than those refugees of hers, and the same age as many of his own recruits. He'd traded fire with her because she'd seemed to be able to handle any barrage.

But this was her Gazzari hillside.

Kerra looked away, sullen. "I don't even have have my shiny stick." my shiny stick."

Rusher remembered. The lightsaber was back on Diligence Diligence, where they'd been ordered to leave it. "Well, you broke mine."

One of Arkadia's minions stepped around the alga column to address them. "Kerra Holt, you have been invited to meet Lord Arkadia in her museum."

"Museum? Sounds interesting," Rusher said.

"And you should await our lady outside, Brigadier, once you've finished your work with our engineers."

Somberly, Kerra began to follow the minion through the crowd. But before she left Rusher's sight, she turned.

"It's true," she said, looking down at the cerulean shadows on the floor. "Arkadia hasn't asked for anything-yet. She's only given. And she looks like the best option we have." She looked up. "But she's still Sith. And that means something."

Rusher looked at her. "I don't know what that means."

"It means keep your eyes open, Jarrow. For my kids-and yours."

From the balcony of the level above, Bothan eyes watched as the humans parted.

Narsk hadn't been able to keep track of the Jedi the entire time on Syned; Arkadia had given her surprising freedom of movement. It hadn't mattered. Kerra had been easy to find, roaming the great ice halls listlessly. She seemed deflated, wholly contained.

But while he knew where the Jedi was, Narsk still had no idea what Arkadia was trying to accomplish with her presence. He didn't care, despite a personal interest in seeing her suffer. But observing Kerra was part of the instructions he had received in the desert, instructions he would carry out. Thinking back on that short, sunny respite, Narsk shivered. Why couldn't Arkadia have picked a planet like that that for her citadel? for her citadel?

After his work on Byllura, he'd expected Arkadia to bring him into her confidence about her plans. That hadn't happened, but the fact that he was still in Calimondretta suggested that hope wasn't lost. Another assignment might be in the offing-and he knew what would more than likely prompt it.

The Bequest was finally happening.

He'd received word of the upcoming event just an hour earlier, via his implant. Seven long pulses, transmitted by a system that remained a mystery to him. They meant that today would be a special day. They always were. How could they not be? When power consorted with power, the galaxy shook.

Walking back from the chilly balcony railing, Narsk imagined the preparations being made in capitals across the sector. The conversations with advisers, the secret side deals already being considered.

The Bequest was on.

And if his eyes could be trusted, Arkadia had just summoned a Jedi to her presence. What was she up up to? to?

Narsk bolted for the escalator. It was time to have a talk with the mercenary.

Kerra had rarely gotten around to visiting Coruscant's museums. It was always something for another day. She'd hardly imagined that her first museum since Jedi Knighthood would be under an ice sheet in a Sith Lord's redoubt.

Arkadia's aide had led Kerra up several flights of stairs into a rotunda, open to the stars above through a small transparisteel aperture. Synedian algae cascaded through fixtures around the room's circumference, giving the place a cool glow. A heptagonal pylon half a meter high sat at the room's center, focal point of floor tiling leading to the seven equally spaced exits.

A lot of empty space, she thought, watching her guide depart. More planetarium than museum More planetarium than museum. The only exhibits were on the walls, sitting in small elevated alcoves between the doors.

She'd expected to see the usual Sith relics-as if there could be anything "usual" about sinister instruments of mayhem. Instead, many of the items seemed commonplace, although their vintage was clearly ancient.

Here, according to the captions, was a translation device used by an aide to Chancellor Fillorean during negotiations with the Duinuogwuin. A diamond bit used by a nameless slave to mine crystals in the Great Hyperspace War. A holorecorder used to interview the philosopher Laconio-but not the famous recordings themselves. A fusioncutter used by a Sith trooper to board Endar Spire Endar Spire. All were critical to history-and yet all seemed mundane, as anonymous as the people who used them.

Looking up at the organic light fixtures, she realized the common element. These things were all tools tools. Arkadia shared something else with Daiman besides a liking for sevens in interior design: there was no art in her realm. Everything was functional, even the display in the plaza where she'd left Rusher. The pretty tubes simply routed Synedian algae from the pumps to the final destination. Some of Calimondretta's architecture was remarkable, but as with Daiman, it served mainly to fete Arkadia, rather than soothe the people.

And they needed soothing. They were all so frantic. Kerra thought back to the family of Gotals she had seen parting in the hallways of the academy. She'd thought there was something missing from the scene at the time, but she didn't realize what it was-until now.

Joy.

The Arkadianites didn't suffer from the same kind of oppression that Daiman's slave laborers did, but they lived under a cloud nonetheless. People didn't have to be threatened with physical danger to be afraid. And Arkadia's system kept them fearful. Fearful of loss of status, should they underperform. Fearful of being shifted to occupations they didn't know anything about, should they perform too well. Arkadia kept them in perpetual motion. Perhaps they were were happier than Darkknell's hopeless residents; certainly, they weren't as bad off as the drones of the Dyarchy. But in their own way, the people here suffered. happier than Darkknell's hopeless residents; certainly, they weren't as bad off as the drones of the Dyarchy. But in their own way, the people here suffered.