The Drengir all shouted with the memory of that glory. Based on what Reath had studied about the Amaxines, any victory against them would’ve been hard-won. All he cared about was that the howling celebration had given him the moment of distraction he needed to elbow Dez through the pod door. Dez stumbled and landed on his hands and knees; Reath winced, but told himself that at least that would be the last of Dez Rydan’s suffering.

One of the Drengir motioned toward them. “Let them go to the station. We will follow.”

“Follow…” Reath’s voice trailed off. There were two transit pods in the launcher, and he’d worked them around to one while not noticing Drengir already boarding the other. Summoning his courage, he said, “Fine. Follow us. We have friends aboard the station.”

They acknowledged him again—but with braying, rustling laughter that sent shivers along Reath’s spine. “This station will be ours, and our conquest of the galaxy can resume.”

Reath imagined the thick greenery throughout the Amaxine station. Drengir could’ve been—must’ve been in stasis the entire time, hidden in plain sight. The darkness surrounding them hadn’t been the shadow of something long dead, but of something that could awaken again.

“Gotta go,” Reath said. “Thanks for the stimulating conversation.”

The Drengir’s laughter filled his ears until he, too, was in the transport pod. Extinguishing the lightsabers, Reath dropped them, pulled the hatch door shut, and hit the one control on the panel. Immediately the workings began their strange whine-hum.

“Where are we?” Dez managed to say. He remained on his hands and knees. “I don’t understand where we are.”

Reath helped Dez into the one seat, crouching by him to keep him steady. “It doesn’t matter, because we’re not staying,” he said gently. “We’re going home.”

And the Drengir will be right behind us.

Hague’s blaster fired.

As though in slow motion, Cohmac saw Orla’s raised hand and felt her pushing back through the Force.

The energy bolt crackled in the air—not frozen in place but moving forward slowly enough that the Jedi were able to easily step around it. As soon as it was behind them, Orla let it go. It crashed into the wall with a spray of sparks that briefly illuminated Hague’s astonished face.

“Why do you attack us?” Cohmac demanded. “We have done you no harm.”

Orla added, “We helped you.”

“Yes, you did. But you did that as much for yourselves as for me, didn’t you?” Hague retained some remnant of the avuncular warmth he’d shown when they all first met after the Legacy Run disaster, but the blaster he held told the true story. “It suited your vanity to be the great and wise, saving the poor and helpless. But the Nihil are poor no longer, and we have never been helpless.”