were standing guard on the edges of the group, blaster rifles drawn while they nervously scanned the cavern's entrance, as if trying to pierce the shadows in anticipation of an attack.
Whoever killed Medd and your friends made you paranoid.
'With Gelba gone, I call the shots,' a bearded man was saying to one of the women. 'And I say Gelba's death calls for blood!'
'Draado,' Quano whispered, speaking so softly Set had to lean in to hear it. 'Him one who dig up stuff you want.'
Looking closer, Set noticed an amulet draped around Draado's neck, and he caught the glint of a ring on his finger-the only jewelry he had seen on any of the miners since he'd set foot on this destitute world.
'You want to start a war that will get us all killed,' one of the men objected.
'At least we'll take a few of the nobles with us!' Draado snapped back.
Draado was standing less than ten meters from where Set was hiding, close enough that he could sense the power emanating from the talismans. The amulet seemed to call out to him; the ring beckoned with its dark heat.
'What happened to you, Draado?' the woman asked. 'You always used to be the one who said we could get what we want without violence and bloodshed.'
'I've changed. Now I see the truth.' Draado pounded his chest for emphasis as he spoke, his fist striking the amulet. 'The nobles won't respect us until they learn to fear us,' he insisted, turning to look at everyone scattered about the cavern. 'We need to make them scared for their very lives. We need to strike terror into their hearts!'
Clearly Draado was under the influence of the talismans; they were corrupting his mind and his thoughts. The power of the dark side had taken hold of him.
No wonder Quano said he wouldn't want to sell them.
The Dark Jedi considered his options. Bargaining with the miners was out of the question; Draado would never willingly give up his newfound treasures. Given the tension in the room and the itchy trigger fingers on the guards, it was pretty clear that any attempt to negotiate would probably end up in a fire fight no matter what he did.
He drew out his twin pistols and took a deep breath, bracing for the confrontation. He needed the target practice anyway.
Leaping from his hiding place, he charged into the cavern with guns blazing. He dropped all four of the rifle- carrying guards before anyone had a chance to react. With the Force guiding his hand, he easily picked them off with four clean shots as he sprinted toward the cover of a large stalagmite on the far side of the cavern.
He skidded in behind it just as the miners began to return fire. They peppered his hiding place, sending up fine clouds of dust as the bolts disintegrated small chips from the stone. Poking his head out, Set fired twice more, reducing the number of opponents to six before ducking back behind the safety of the stalagmite.
The sound of enemy blasterfire reverberated off the walls of the cavern. Set smiled, enjoying the glorious clamor of battle. Halfway done already. This might be easier than I thought.
Behind him, he sensed Quano making a break for freedom back up the tunnel. Set could have taken him out with a single shot in the back, but he decided to let him go. He always preferred to leave someone behind to tell the tale of his exploits, anyway.
A sharp crack suddenly echoed across the cavern. Glancing up, Set saw one of the large stalactites from the ceiling plunging down to impale him. He rolled out of the way at the last instant, the deadly rock spear exploding into fragments as it hit the unyielding cavern floor. He ducked his head as the shower of jagged stone shards washed over him, scoring the exposed skin of his neck and bare arms with hundreds of superficial, stinging cuts.
Blasterfire opened up again, but Set was already on his feet. Darting and weaving erratically, he managed to sidestep the shots as he made a mad dash for cover behind another of the prominent rock formations.
Momentarily safe, he took a second to catch his breath, glancing up to make sure another potentially deadly stalactite wasn't poised above him. He had no doubt who had fired the shots that had dislodged the last one. He'd gotten sloppy, underestimating Draado and the talismans.
It wasn't necessary to be trained in the ways of the Force to benefit from its power. It heightened the senses, made an individual quicker to react and anticipate. What some saw as expertise with a weapon or luck in battle was often really a manifestation of the Force. Even if he wasn't aware of it, Draado was drawing on the power of the dark side. And that made him dangerous.
Putting his pistols away, Set unclipped his lightsaber. Playtime's over.
Leaning out from behind his rock, igniting his lightsaber, he hurled it with a sidearm throw, sending it spinning horizontally on a wide, looping trajectory. It circled the room once, easily slicing through stalactites and miners before returning to Set's waiting grasp.
It had taken Set years to fully master the devastating power of the lightsaber throw, but the attack was virtually unstoppable. Five of his remaining opponents had been caught in the lethal arc it traced around the room. Only Draado had been quick enough to duck out of the way, saved by the power of the talismans he wore. But even with these artifacts, he was no match for a former Jedi Knight.
Set simply stood up and reached out with his free hand in Draado's direction, his fingers forming into a claw. The miner dropped his blaster, his hands flying up to his throat as he gasped for breath.
Set crossed the room, increasing the pressure on his helpless victim's windpipe. Draado collapsed to his knees, his face turning purple. The Dark Jedi stood above him, watching coldly as his life was slowly choked away.
When the miner's struggles finally stopped, Set bent down and stripped him of both the amulet and the ring. He resisted the temptation to put them on right away. From his apprenticeship under Master Obba he had learned that it was wise to study the artifacts of the dark side carefully before using them-their power often came with a cost.
He had what he came for, and he was eager to get off this civilization-forsaken world and back to the luxury of his home on Nal Hutta. Besides, the longer he stayed on Doan, the greater the chance he would run into another Jedi sent to investigate Medd's death. If he left now all they'd find would be the sniveling bartender he'd left behind, and he wouldn't be able to tell them anything they couldn't figure out for themselves.
So long, Quano. You better hope we never meet again.
As he made his way back up the long, winding tunnel toward the surface-the amulet and the ring firmly in his possession-he couldn't help but wonder if the Rodian would ever appreciate just how lucky he was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In Zannah's opinion, of all the worlds she had been to-including the war-torn fields of Ruusan, the lifeless deserts of Ambria, the desolate gray plains of Tython-Doan was by far the least hospitable.
The entire surface of the planet had been gashed open in the endless quest for new minerals. Flora and fauna were nonexistent; everywhere she looked she saw nothing but dirt and rock. It was an ugly, ravaged world: by all rights it should have been devoid of all life. And yet the mining camps teemed with desperate beings scratching and clawing to carve out a meager existence for themselves.
Watching them, she couldn't help but compare them with her Master, whom she knew had grown up on a place like Doan: Apatros, a world rich in nothing but cortosis mines, owned by Outer Rim Oreworks, a corporation notorious for treating its indentured employees like slaves. But where Bane's brutal childhood and savage upbringing in the mines of Apatros had taught him to fight to survive, had helped forge his indomitable spirit, the miserable curs she had encountered on Doan were weak, deserving nothing better than servitude. Bane had ambition. Bane had strength. He had managed to rise above his surroundings. Through sheer force of will, he had cast off the shackles of his childhood and forged a new destiny for himself. He had risen from nothing to become the Dark Lord of the Sith.
It was time for Zannah to do the same. She would not allow herself to be like these pathetic wretches: weak, afraid, and enslaved.
Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken.
There was still the problem of finding her own apprentice, of course. But for now, she needed to focus on why
