camp in ruins: a foolish and pointless waste of resources.
The second time had almost been far more costly. Had he succeeded in killing Zannah, he still would have found Helton's datacard on her. But he would also have been forced to find a new apprentice. A decade of training would have been lost, thrown away because of his temporary madness.
Zannah had saved herself by explaining the motives behind her actions. She had acted in perfect accordance with her Master's teachings-a fact Bane should have realized on his own. But the orbalisks blinded him to her skilled machinations, and he now understood that the raw power they granted him came at the expense of subtlety and cunning.
So while he went to Tython to face the dangers and defenses of Belia's lost stronghold, Zannah was undertaking a mission of her own.
Hetton's ship was magnificent. A custom built cruiser eighty meters in length, she could comfortably hold twenty passengers, yet only a single pilot was required to operate her. Every detail of her construction and design had been made to Hetton's precise and lavish specifications. Equipped with enough firepower and armor plating to take on a small capital ship, the interior was still luxurious enough to host a formal dinner for planetary dignitaries. No expense had been spared, the vessel being as much a symbol of his incredible wealth as it had been a mode of transportation. There was only one thing Zan-nah disliked about it: He had called it the Loranda, after his mother. She reached forward and punched the controls, marveling at the smooth takeoff and responsiveness of the yoke as she guided the ship up and out of Ambria's atmosphere. In two day she would be touching down on Coruscant; no doubt she'd have to bribe a spaceport administrator to keep her arrival off the official books. The Loranda was still registered to Helton, and her arrival would draw immediate attention if it was logged with the proper authorities.
Fortunately it was common practice for the nobles of Serenno to make frequent unscheduled-and unreported- landings, even on Coruscant. The wealthy weren't bound by the rules of the average Republic citizen, and portraying herself as a servant sent to bribe a port administrator upon landing wouldn't strike anyone as unusual. Arriving onworld without drawing undue attention would be the easy part of her mission. Gaining access to the Archives in the Jedi Temple would be much more difficult.
Bane was taking a tremendous gamble in sending her there. They had spent the past decade hiding from the Jedi, and now she was about to enter the very heart of the order. But she couldn't second-guess his decision, not when she had been partly responsible. It was she who had planted the first seeds of doubt in her Master's mind about the orbalisks, and now her scheme had come to fruition. Bane had decided-for her sake and the sake of the Sith-that he had to free himself from the infestation.
Nothing in Freedon Nadd's original experiments indicated that the orbalisks could be extracted from the host, and Bane's own research into the subject had failed to uncover anything to the contrary. But the Jedi Archives were the greatest single collection of assembled knowledge in the known galaxy. If an answer existed, they would find it there.
Her Master had taken every precaution to keep her true identity hidden while she visited the Archives. Through his network of mysterious informants and shadowy contacts, he had assembled a list of names and background portfolios for virtually every member of the Jedi Order. From this list, he had chosen one name that suited their purpose: Nalia Adollu.
Nalia was a Padawan of approximately Zannah's age under the tutelage of Anno Wen-Chii, a famously reclusive Pyn'gani Jedi Master on the Outer Rim world of Polus. Over the past week Zannah had memorized every detail of her profile and history, along with the history of Master Anno, so she could pass herself off as the young woman.
The cover story was simple: Zannah would claim her Master was studying a rare breed of parasitic organism that lived beneath the ice-covered surface of Polus. Eager to compare the newly discovered life-form with similar species from other worlds, but loath to leave the quiet of his homeworld, he had sent his Padawan to gather research materials from the Jedi Archive.
Yet she would need more than a plausible cover story to maintain her disguise when she presented herself to the chief librarian and asked for permission to view the Archives. Zannah and Nalia were of the same age. They were roughly the same height and shared the same athletic build. They both had long, flowing hair-though Zannah had dyed her locks a deep, lustrous black to match those of the other woman.
It had been five years since Nalia had last left her Master's side on Polus, so there was little chance of running into anyone who knew her well enough to recognize Zannah as an imposter. But even if her appearance didn't give her away, there was one final element to consider.
Throughout her mission, she would be surrounded by servants of the light; if they sensed the dark side in her, she would be instantly exposed. The secrecy she and Bane had worked so hard to preserve would be destroyed. Everything they had labored for over the past decade, everything they had accomplished, would be for naught. She would surely be captured, possibly condemned to death, and her Master would be hunted down and slain.
The only way the plan would work was if she could use the power of Sith sorcery to mask her strength while simultaneously projecting an aura of light-side energy. It was a complicated spell, one she had never tried before. It required a balance of strength and delicacy, and she had practiced it continuously in the weeks leading up to her departure. Yet despite her best efforts, there were still moments when her concentration slipped and her true nature showed through.
She just had to hope that, if it happened on Coruscant, none of the Jedi would be close enough to notice.
Chapter 17
A chill wind blew through the forest, dropping the temperature well below freezing, but Johun was able to draw upon the Force to warm himself and keep away the worst of the cold.
The Jedi Knight was frustrated. Little progress had been made in the construction of the monument on Ruusan over the past weeks, the project the victim of a campaign of vandalism and sabotage.
It had begun with the destruction of the hoversleds, the repulsor coils eaten away by some type of toxic substance smeared across their surface. It had taken four days to arrange for the shipment and installation of the replacement coils.
The second incident had seen all the heavy equipment coated with a thick, sticky sap that turned out to be a powerful adhesive. Gloves, boots, and other clothing of the workers had stuck fast, becoming permanently attached to any surface they even brushed against; luckily nobody had made contact with bare skin. It had taken hours to find and apply chemical solvents strong enough to break the bond, and two full days to clean the gummy residue off the equipment.
Johun had considered posting some of his crew as guards through the night. But the monument site was remote; each morning the crews were flown in by air shuttle. Anyone assigned to watch over the site would be left completely alone, and if the unknown vandals were armed, the guards might be injured or even killed. That was something the Jedi was not willing to risk.
For a few nights after the second incident he'd hired a private security team to patrol the region, hoping they could catch whoever was responsible. Those nights had passed without incident, however, the would-be saboteur likely scared away by the show of force. But funding on the project was limited, and Johun was already over-budget because of the previous setbacks. Ultimately, he'd ended the contract with the security patrols… and two nights later the vandals had struck again.
The third incident began with the crew arriving in the morning to find that someone had spread pungent pollen around the entire construction site. As the suns rose, a great flock of tiny birds-tens of thousands of the squawking, screeching creatures- descended on the site, drawn by the scent. Their numbers blotted out the twin suns as they swooped and dived at the crew, making it impossible to work. Even after the pollen was gone, the smell lingered for two days, drawing the birds back each morning to put a halt to construction.
Johun had decided to take matters into his own hands. Whoever was behind the mischief was cautious, and a
