Pan heard a hiss, felt a scratch cool against his skin. The pain subsided like a lowering tide, only to return as his starved lungs gasped for breath. The world came back into focus, colors bursting in front of eyes that could see again, the thump-thump-thump of distant wreckpunk threatening to split his skull in two.

Someone was in front of him. Pan snatched out a hand, grabbing a thin but powerful arm. An empty hypo clattered to the floor. Pan looked up and saw long lekku and cold eyes. Lourna. He released her arm, but she didn’t wince, even though bruises were already forming where he’d gripped her.

“You saved me,” he croaked.

“Should I regret it?”

Pan pushed himself up, willing the hall to stop spinning. “I should’ve known he had something up his sleeve.” Pan coughed, his lungs aching. “And you for that matter. Did you know what he was planning?”

“No. Not at all.”

“But you had an antidote.”

Lourna drew a vial from her pocket and shook it. “Cypanid. Extracted from the bibfort males back on Ryloth. It’s a general anti-toxin. You got lucky.”

Pan leaned heavily on the display table. “I don’t feel it. Where’s the Talpini?”

“Enjoying himself.”

“And Ro?” The name was like bile in his mouth.

“On his ship, no doubt doing the same. He thinks you’re dead.”

Pan clutched the edge of the table, dragging himself up. “Then I will rip that antique apart to prove him wrong.”

“No.” Lourna put a hand on his arm, her palm cool against skin that still burned from the poison. “You know what he’s like. He never joins the revels. He’ll be up there until the party burns out, and when he finally shows his face it will be too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“For him.” Lourna grabbed his face, holding it between her hands to stare into his eyes. “He wasn’t there, Pan, on the ground. Neither was Zeetar, for that matter. They didn’t feel what it was like. The power. We have the Republic on the run. You were right, Ro isn’t thinking big enough. Not anymore. I say we keep going.”

“Strike now.”

“And strike fast. We give it a day, maybe two, see where the Republic shores up its defenses. The shipyard or Hetzal’s bacta fields. And then, whichever is weakest—”

“—is ours.”

Lourna pressed her lips hard against his. It was like kissing a viper.

“You rest,” she said when she finally broke away from him. “Let the cypanid do its work. I’ll start spreading the news. The Nihil belong to us now.”

“And if Zeetar doesn’t agree?”

She smiled, showing teeth filed into points.

“He’s not wearing that armor anymore, is he? I’ve always thought that three Tempest Runners was one too many.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

The Communion Chamber, Valo