It hadn’t been a bad daydream—just one in which he was dueling brilliantly with his lightsaber, the kind of detailed imagining that could actually improve real performance. But that was a practice for meditation. He had to improve his ability to live wholly in the present, as Master Simmix constantly reminded him.

At first he thought he’d done well to pull himself from his reverie, but then he realized it had been the comm panel lighting up with an incoming signal.

Orla and Cohmac exchanged glances as the voice came through: “Monarch Cassel—in distress, attempted abduction—systems failing—”

The code signature of the signal confirmed that it was Cassel’s ship. Orla responded immediately. “The Jedi are on our way. Hold on!”

Should they have double-checked the signal first? That seemed like a minor detail, one Cohmac didn’t dwell upon. He simply steered in the direction of the signal. “So at least one of the hostages got away. Does that make our mission easier or more complicated?”

“I guess we’ll see,” Orla replied. They exchanged smiles. As different in temperament as they were—Cohmac always turning within, Orla always leaping ahead—they’d been friendly since the creche and were equally eager to begin their mission in earnest.

Within moments, some sort of planetoid appeared in the distance—one so small and remote it didn’t even have a name. Cohmac punched in the shuttle’s approach vectors without a second thought.

Then Master Laret hurried onto the bridge. She, like Master Simmix, had been deep in meditative trance; Cohmac had expected to go rouse them both. But something had brought Master Laret to awareness, and then to alarm. “What’s happening?” she said.

“Monarch Cassel must have escaped,” Orla began. “We got a confirmed signal from his ship—”

“From his ship,” Master Laret said grimly. “Not from Monarch Cassel.”

Cohmac and Orla exchanged uncertain glances. Too late, Cohmac felt a shiver in the Force—the eerie dissonance that meant not all was as it seemed—

And then outer space itself seemed to blaze with light, and the ship shook and twisted, and there was no up or down anymore, no way to stop, no way out.

Chapter Four

Reath wouldn’t have been concerned for even a moment if they’d been stranded in space in the Republic. Longbeams always flew stocked with surplus fuel and provisions for journeys two or three times as long as scheduled. The surpluses were unnecessary, of course. Abundant hyperspace traffic and a subspace transceiver meant that a potential rescue ship was rarely more than a few hours away.

Out on the frontier, however…it seemed possible to be stranded for very long periods of time. Maybe permanently.

So Affie’s announcement had at first sent a wave of grateful relief washing over Reath. Someone needed help. They might be able to give it, which would lend this strange detour some meaning.