Rusher flinched. Why? Why?

"He will come to destroy the facility Bactra sends. Or he will try. He will certainly know of it." Daiman didn't say how. "And he will know we are sending our bright young prospects there to meet it. Industrial Heuristics has been recruiting openly on Darkknell for days-and my brother is known to have spies here," Daiman said, waving offhandedly toward the entrance. "You met one as you entered."

"You're using the training center as bait," Rusher said, looking down at his walking stick. The knob atop it glinted as he twirled it in place. "And ... the students ... the students."

"Yes." Daiman returned to the center of the room. "He will not attack when the facilities are in Bactra's hands. He'll wait until the delivery is made, so the loss will impact me and not Bactra."

It was a standard move for Odion, Daiman said, but as ever, he was the better gamesman. "He must see the recruits waiting on the ground to seal the illusion."

"What do we do if he doesn't take the b-b-bait?" Mak stammered.

"He will. I have arranged for it."

Daiman gestured, and a shining staircase descended from the crystal platform at the center of the room. Setting foot upon it, he was interrupted by a statement from behind: "I'm not sure I like this."

Daiman stopped climbing. "What?"

"I said I'm not sure I like this," Rusher said, grasping the walking stick more tightly. Spying Mak's wild expression, he shrugged. No, I don't know what I'm doing, either No, I don't know what I'm doing, either. "You're taking younglings on the battlefield, and you're expecting them to be taken out."

"And I'm expecting you to do as you're told." Daiman crooked his head slightly in irritation. "Who are are you?" you?"

"Brigadier Jarrow Rusher. I carry eight battalions running medium artillery, laser and missile. I've worked jobs for you for years," he said. "But I'm an independent operator-"

Daiman's response dropped below freezing. "As you've just seen, there is no such thing."

Rusher swallowed. He could feel the Sith Lord's supplicants glaring at him-and it didn't help that the other generals were edging out of the way. Some colleagues Some colleagues. "We're not part of your army, Lord Daiman."

"That can be corrected," Daiman said. To one side, the violet-clad Correctors took a step forward. He waved them off. This moment was his. "I created you, Brigadier Brigadier," the young Sith said, raising his metal-tipped hand. "You will function as I desire."

Yanked by an unseen power, Rusher rose several meters into the air. The walking stick clattered to the marble beneath as Rusher's gloved hands clutched at his neck, just above his collar. There was nothing there, but he could feel the presence of Daiman's hand. Even the false fingertips, clawing at the back of his neck. Shaking, Rusher coughed and kicked-and tried to speak.

"I'm ... just doing ... what you created me to do ... what you created me to do ... " "

The pressure subsided slightly. Still suspended in midair, Rusher watched Daiman step toward him. Mismatched eyes looked up. "What?"

Rusher's mind racing, his mouth moved to match. "Having autonomous forces was your your idea. We were created for the purpose. idea. We were created for the purpose. Your Your purpose!" purpose!"

Daiman lowered his hand, and his victim dropped violently to the floor. Blond eyebrows tilted in amusement. "Tell me the purpose," Daiman said, smirking. me the purpose," Daiman said, smirking.

Ignoring the shooting pain in his shin from the rough landing, Rusher fought to get to his knees. "We look different. You can't send your regular forces ahead to Gazzari without him sensing a trap-"

"Any ship can be disguised!"

"-and the truth is," Rusher said, shifting gears, "you'd rather rent than own!"

"What in blazes are you talking about?"

"I'm saying you've got more important things to think about," Rusher said, getting to his feet. "There are too many details to running an artillery brigade-"

"Details I have designed!"

"And that's the problem," Rusher said, searching for his retail smile. "You worked so many complexities into this universe, Lord Daiman, that it's hard for us lesser beings lesser beings to cope. Not all organics are up to it." He slapped his chest. "You created us specialists to manage these systems-and our own affairs-for greater efficiency. We're like anything else you created to work your will," he said, "just a little different." to cope. Not all organics are up to it." He slapped his chest. "You created us specialists to manage these systems-and our own affairs-for greater efficiency. We're like anything else you created to work your will," he said, "just a little different."

Rusher watched the Sith Lord, burning eyes still set on him. They really did look like the double stars outside. The brigadier stepped over to retrieve his cane. "And you know what's really amazing?" he asked. "It all works works. The variety you've designed into the universe is really something. Genius, really." He looked back at Daiman. "As my lord knows." "As my lord knows."

Daiman stood stone-silent amid the generals and Correctors.

At last, he spoke. "You have your assignments. Prepayments of ordnance and fuel are already being delivered to your ships." He turned back toward the stairs. "Leave me."

The sentries opened the doors outward. The generals didn't waste any time stepping over the Togorian's remains.

"Where'd you go go?"

Kerra lifted her mask and faced the Bothan, still bound to the round frame. He seemed perturbed by her disappearance; as annoyed as she'd been at his unwillingness to talk, earlier. He'd only agreed to trade information for his freedom, and only after he was freed. "I'm not in the business of helping Jedi," he'd said.

I'm not in the business of freeing Sith spies, she'd thought.

Hearing approaching voices, she'd headed back into the hallway just in time to see Daiman's procession depart the heptagonal temple, heading in the opposite direction.

If Daiman was at the front, she hadn't been able to see him. But where else would he be? "Where is he going?"

"I can answer that," the spy replied. "And you know how."

Kerra groaned. Seeing no alternative, she came to a decision. "Hold on."

"Wait! Whulp! Whulp!"

Kerra started the wheel moving again, careful not to upset anything as she rolled it through the storage area. The kitchen outside looked as though it had never produced a meal, and yet the larder was fully stocked with fresh food and shining cooking implements. While everyone outside works three shifts for a ration While everyone outside works three shifts for a ration, she thought.

"Is this really necessary? Cut me down from this thing!"

"Just let me do this. There's a way out of here, but you're in no shape for sneaking around," she said. "Now, about Daiman?"

The Bothan fumed. "He's going to Gazzari," he said, finally. "Aboard Era Daimanos Era Daimanos."

"Gazzari?" Kerra's brow furrowed. She thought back on the intelligence reports she'd seen in the Republic. The world sat in a wedge of Daiman's space between Bactra's territory and Odion's. "Does this have to do with what's going on with Bactra?"

"Yes," he said.

"And that is?"

"Only once we're outside."

Kerra slid up to a window and looked out. There was the flagship Era Daimanos Era Daimanos, parked on a rooftop within the compound. The boarding ramps were down on the vessel, and she saw the massive rear engines outgassing. It was a ship preparing to travel.

Kerra opened her pouch. The explosives were there, beneath her clothes and lightsaber. Yes, she thought, it might be easier to do away with Daiman aboard a ship. As inviting a target as the temple had been, she'd still have the problem of escaping from what was, in effect, Corrector Central. How much easier would it be to decapitate the regime from the comfort of a life pod, on the way to someplace else?

It'd be nice to do something easy. For a change.

Sealing the pouch, she returned to the Bothan's torture wheel. He saw her coming. "I'll tell you the rest, but you have to take me with you. Wherever you're going." The spy's voice stirred with emotion, as it had back on the plaza, nights earlier. "I owe Daiman now, Kerra. You must must take me." take me."

"Nope."

"What?"

Kerra kicked open a door and grabbed the side of the wheel. "I don't work with Sith. And I don't work with people who work with Sith."

"This again? I don't-"

"I told you, there's only one way to get you out of here," she said, releasing the great wheel and walking toward a corrugated metal door. With a heave, she forced it open, revealing a long stone trough leading downward. Down, and out of Daiman's compound, terminating in the mountainous refuse pile that abutted the south wall.

"No!" Seeing the long chute below, the spy writhed. "Don't!"

"If it's any consolation," she said, "I don't think those bonds of yours will survive the landing. I don't know why, but it looks like the guards loosened them." She positioned the circular rack on the open ledge.

His eyes burned with anger. "You'll regret this, Jedi. I'm not what you think I am!"

"So long."

She gave the wheel a shove.

Only Mak had bothered to wait for Rusher. Using the cane for real, this time, Rusher stepped past the sentries at the gate and looked up at the black wall behind him. Daiman's favorite suns had just set, he saw. Diligence Diligence's crew wouldn't have much time to get packed up to move. Master Dackett wasn't going to like this at all.

There wasn't any thought of not taking the assignment. Not if Rusher ever wanted to set foot in Daiman's space again. And one never knew. If Daiman's gambit proved successful, it might all all be Daiman's space before too long. be Daiman's space before too long.

Mak looked up at the human and smirked. "Really, Rusher. 'You'd rather rent than own' 'You'd rather rent than own'?"

"It's what came to me," Rusher said, stretching his bruised leg. Just a little sprain; he'd walk it off. "It's not my line. Admiral Veltraa said it about irregular units, back in the ancient times," Rusher said. A little history comes in handy A little history comes in handy.

"I thought you'd converted for a mo-mo-moment."

"Don't worry, Mak. I'm not about to start wearing gold armor and chanting."

Suddenly the two heard a bloodcurdling scream from off to the right. Scanning the ramparts, Rusher saw nothing as the cry trailed off into silence. He cinched up his trench coat. "Crazy place."

"And that Daiman's the craziest of all," Mak said, covering his mouth. "Not much to like about this b-b-business."

"Oh, I don't know," Rusher said, straightening his collar. "We get to face Odion. His death-cultists want want to be blown up. Makes for a short workday." to be blown up. Makes for a short workday."

Era Daimanos was Daiman's flagship in the classic naval sense. Kerra had seen larger, more powerful vessels in the young lord's fleet; was Daiman's flagship in the classic naval sense. Kerra had seen larger, more powerful vessels in the young lord's fleet; Era Era was more a cross between a battleship and a pleasure yacht. But was more a cross between a battleship and a pleasure yacht. But Era Era bore Lord Daiman, and that unlucky fact gave it its distinction. bore Lord Daiman, and that unlucky fact gave it its distinction.

It had been surprisingly simple for her to reach the ship before Daiman's entourage. Giving up on navigating the labyrinthine palace, Kerra had found her way to the rooftop. It had been an easy traverse from there in the stealth suit. By the time the first train of bearers arrived with Daiman's luggage, she was already safely on board, hiding in a service area beneath a deck grating.

The service tunnel was a close fit, but she'd found several passages branching from it to other areas of the ship. She'd been relieved to find one leading to an unused galley, as it meant she could take her time and pick her moment. And in the tunnel, she wouldn't need the stealth suit every minute of the day. She hoped Daiman wasn't bringing many adepts sensitive to feelings of hate, because she was coming to absolutely loathe the accursed suit.

Settling in near a grating, Kerra turned up the suit's audio sensors. She could just make out Daiman and the Woostian aide, passing somewhere in the company of his sentries.

"-as my lord knows, the Bothan spy is missing," she said. "The Gamorreans left him as instructed. He was not there when they returned."

"Your lord knows," Daiman said to his aide. "I knew he'd find a way, once we left him alone. An intrepid little beast. Quite entertaining."

Beneath the floor, Kerra pursed her lips. She'd thought the Gamorreans had loosened the Bothan's bonds before they'd left him alone. It didn't make much sense.

Hearing the engines of the vessel throttle up, Kerra strained to catch Daiman's final comment before he went out of earshot: "All proceeds according to my design."

Kerra looked at the explosives sitting inside her bag and smiled. Just wait, Dark Lord. Let's see you design your way out of this! Just wait, Dark Lord. Let's see you design your way out of this!

CHAPTER SEVEN.

The tortured ground pointed up; turrets of Sarrassian iron pointed out, and down. Standing in the spotters' nest atop Diligence Diligence's hull, Rusher regarded the sight with pride, wondering if this was how gardeners felt.

Of course, he planted death, rather than life. But in Sith space, that seemed to fit.

Hours earlier, it had been a rusty ridge, untouched by organics. Now cannon barrels lined the eastern edge of the bowl valley, the weapons planted just inside the stalagmite line by his busy crews. Taking macrobinoculars from one of his aides, Rusher looked along the ridgeline. There were the Nosaurian's long Brock-Eight cannons, just going in to the north. Lower down, Mak was positioning his droids as best he could, given the many crevasses in the landform.

Rusher had seldom deployed in such challenging terrain. The "valley" was actually an ancient crater several kilometers across; their ridge was part of the eastern wall, broken several times by tectonic action and meteor strikes. The curious stone shards rising from the ridge had made finding an elevated place to land Diligence Diligence difficult. Rusher guessed they came from acid rain, generated by the same volcanoes whose smoke gave Gazzari its low ceiling. Weather seemed to come in only two kinds here: rain, or ashfall. Watching blackened motes flutter by, he was thankful they'd gotten here during the latter. Rain that could give a crater teeth was something he didn't want to be out in. difficult. Rusher guessed they came from acid rain, generated by the same volcanoes whose smoke gave Gazzari its low ceiling. Weather seemed to come in only two kinds here: rain, or ashfall. Watching blackened motes flutter by, he was thankful they'd gotten here during the latter. Rain that could give a crater teeth was something he didn't want to be out in.

Below, he saw what the combination of the two had wrought. The floor of the crater was a tarry slick, a featureless sheen stretching to the corresponding ridge far away. Daiman had perched his vessel on the northern crater wall; even now, his elite troops were setting up temporary structures down in the valley. Or trying to. The surface slurry looked ankle-deep. Rusher could see the Daimanites struggling in the terrain.

But the idea was pretty clever, Rusher thought. By raising decoy tents and depots there, Daiman stood a chance of convincing anyone landing that the terrain was manageable. Lost moments in the valley would give his irregulars the advantage. The planet looked as if it had been created specifically with an ambush in mind.

Of course, Daiman would say he'd done exactly that, Rusher thought, rubbing his neck.

He turned his attention back to his own forces. Rusher treated deployments like a science, but visually they had the artistic appeal of a dance. They'd parked Diligence Diligence in a clearing behind stone spires a couple of meters high, just tall enough to screen their cargo operations. Landing on flat ground to permit easier unloading, they'd activated the precious hydraulic lifts to tilt the nose of the crew compartment downward, providing Rusher's rooftop command center a better angle on the valley. in a clearing behind stone spires a couple of meters high, just tall enough to screen their cargo operations. Landing on flat ground to permit easier unloading, they'd activated the precious hydraulic lifts to tilt the nose of the crew compartment downward, providing Rusher's rooftop command center a better angle on the valley.

Now, before any enemies were even in the system, the real operation was under way. With the ramps on Diligence Diligence's two cargo-cluster feet petaled outward, all eight battalions hit the ground simultaneously. Squads of rifle-toting troopers emerged first, setting a perimeter. Scouts followed on their speeder bikes, examining terrain and checking for mines.