All thoughts of comfort fled when Reath heard the telltale thuds of the Drengir pod settling into its base.

In just a minute, they’ll be loose. Coming after us.

So I won’t give them a minute.

“Stay here,” Reath said unnecessarily, allowing Dez to slump onto the floor. Then he ran toward the Drengir pod.

The Force led him to their hatch, which they would open at any second; already he could see green frond-like hands grappling with the handle. Reath held out his hand and mentally pushed the Drengir away from the door. They went toppling backward. That was the easy part.

He closed his eyes and reached out again with his feelings. This time he wrapped his mind not around the Drengir but around the pod itself. Its shape became real to him, tactile, almost as if he were holding it in his palm.

Finally he pushed the entire pod backward down the launch tunnel. It felt as though he were physically shoving pure heavy metal backward, straining every muscle in his body—but he managed to move it a couple of meters. That would be enough, if his plan worked at all.

Despite the thick hatch door, Reath could hear the Drengir emerging from their pod, simply crawling out into the tunnel. They were heading for the hatch, coming to confront him—

Brilliant white light flashed in the tunnel, and howls of pain echoed for just one instant. Then the tunnel fell dark; all was silent.

Lightsaber in one hand, Reath used the other to swing the hatch door open. Instantly he was greeted by the scent of charred plants—slightly pleasant, actually, like woodsmoke or fragrant herbs.

By the glow of the saber, he could see limp, blackened leafy scraps on the bottom of the tunnel, smoldering just over the helix rings. Their energy had destroyed the Drengir in a split second. There was a sense of rightness in knowing that the rings had spared Dez, instead killing the ones who had tortured him.

There is no rightness in slaying an enemy, Master Jora scolded within Reath’s mind. Killing is never true victory. At best it is the knowledge that you have done what you must.

“I’ve done what I must, master,” he whispered. It seemed possible that perhaps, in the cosmic Force, she could hear.

“Affie?” Orla cried out. She couldn’t see the girl in all that mess; she could barely see her own lightsaber in front of her face. Deep within she sensed that the girl remained alive, but she couldn’t yet spare the mental energy to search any farther.

Not until she’d driven back the Nihil.