Surrounded by thick forest, the installation was secure and structurally sound, although paint peeled off the stone-block walls and just about every barred window in the place was cracked. Most wings of the facility were still locked down, and in the few that were now occupied, the Tempests had stuffed or taped the panes to keep out the drafts. Most Nihil had set up homes in the cells in the main two blocks, tiny rooms lining three levels of the atrium, rusty gantries leading to sturdy staircases. For some, such accommodation only brought back memories of periods of incarceration that they had tried very hard to forget, even if the thick durasteel doors could be opened at any time. Camps had sprung up in what Lourna assumed had once been exercise squares, while others stayed on their ships, especially those visiting from other cells across the galaxy. Ro had been insistent. The Nihil needed to do two things. First and foremost, they needed to be quiet. The chaos after the Great Disaster had brought them a lot of attention, which had largely been the point. It had been a line in the sand, a wake-up call for the Republic, but the response from the Jedi, well, that had been something else. Ro had gambled that the so-called keepers of law and order in the galaxy would be taken by surprise by the Nihil’s tactics, that they wouldn’t be ready for combat, their skills dulled by years of being top of the food chain. The reality had proved somewhat different. The Jedi had proved to be more than a match for the Nihil, and the people … the people who should have feared the Nihil instead looked to the Jedi more than ever, still listened to that damn signal broadcast by the Republic’s shiny new beacon. They still had hope. So Ro suggested a period of inactivity, to lull the galaxy into a false sense of security. Some might even say he’d ordered it. His influence had definitely grown since the Battle of Kur. So the Nihil didn’t so much retreat as lie in wait. There were still a few raids, nothing major, and most of the rackets that funded the Storm were still in operation, under the radar, stockpiling resources. A little blackmail here. Protection money there. One of Pan’s Strikes had even managed to swipe a reedug consignment from the Reekrider Cartel before it had reached its destination on Athiss, but nothing that would draw too much attention.