He woke up with sunlight, broken up by the branches above, streaming into his face, and he knew where the red ship was.
Or rather, he knew the direction to take to find it. If it was real.
The TIE fighter did not find them at noon. That was because Ben snipped the long leg of the tracking device in his pouch, assuming that it was the unit’s antenna. He must have been right. Starting an hour and a half beforehand and waiting until some time past noon, he, Kiara, and Shaker rested in a small ravine, a place where infrared traces would be harder to detect from any angle but straight up. He distantly felt the eye in the sky, but it did not come near him.
If he ever needed to, he could reattach the antenna. That was one good result of the day. Other events were not so promising.
Their food was beginning to run short. They had two cans of preserved rations, which would last as long as they choose to stretch them. Ben could happily have eaten both cans himself at a single sitting.
Water was in good supply. All they had to do was pack wow into Faskus’s canteen and wear it against their bodies to melt-which was chilly and uncomfortable, but simple. Occasionally they wandered across a frozen stream; at those times, Ben used his lightsaber to cut through the ice and give them access to the water.
He wondered, though, about the snow and the water on this world. He’d now seen a few bird-like creatures-their wings were webbed rather than feathered-and they were often distorted, with one leg bigger than the other or possessing a misshapen beak. Was there something in the water causing high levels of mutation? For his sake and Kiara’s, he hoped not.
Worst of all, he was sure that the neks were following them. They stayed out of sight, but he could sense them pacing him and Kiara to the right and left, following their mill.
He and Kiara were meat to the neks, he knew. He didn’t much like being considered meat. He hoped he’d have enough strength to do something about it when the time came.
CORUSCANT SYSTEM
ERRANT VENTURE
In one of the ship’s great lobbies, where lights were bright and visitors mingled well away from the expensive attractions of casinos and shops-but not far from the expensive attractions of several surrounding bars-Alema spent a few minutes in a data kiosk, downloading the last several lists of new arrivals.
Of course, not everyone who came to Errant Venture consented to be listed. But many did, so that an automated search code would detect their names and announce their arrival to friends.
She had scanned through several hundred names, recognizing none, when she felt a flicker in the Force.
Then it was more than a flicker. It was a light, a signal. She looked toward its source.
Entering the grand lobby was a human man-unusually tall, light-skinned, his long black hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore dressy civilian clothes-black slacks and boots, a dark blue tunic with yellow striping angled across the chest, a black vest and belt.
Alema knew him at once. He had once been a joiner, had once belonged to a Killik nest. He was Zekk.
But his actions confused her. He moved slowly through the lobby, smiling and nodding at everyone he passed, speaking briefly to several, especially young females. As he passed, a few of them turned in his wake, moving to keep him in sight.
Alema thought she understood, but it made no more sense than before. Zekk was radiating vitality and power through the Force, in a fashion that would be appealing to just about everyone but the most Force-blind. And if there were any Force-sensitives in the crowd, they might be drawn especially strongly to him.
She gaped. He was using his Jedi abilities to attract females. It scarcely seemed possible. He had always been quiet and reserved-not to mention pathetically infatuated with Jaina Solo. Alema wondered what had caused the change.
She also wondered whether she should kill him. He had nothing to do with her current plans. But it was inevitable that when Alema killed Han, Jaina would vow vengeance or at least seek it, pretending it was just a dispassionate desire for justice. And if Jaina came hunting, Zekk would come with her. If Alema eliminated him now, that was one less thing for her to worry about.
She, too, drifted toward Zekk.
She came to a stop twenty meters from him, fingering her blowgun and still undecided. Zekk and two new female friends had paused to watch a fire-breathing Devaronian irrggler perform his act for the patrons in the lobby when she became aware of another presence, this one much closer.
She turned her head to see a thick-chested man with a trim, graying beard and startling green eyes. He stood two meters from her, staring at her, smiling. He wore Jedi robes.
“Horn,” she said.
“I’ll say this once,” Corran said. “Give up now.”
She raised her blowgun and fired.