The skies above Eloden burned as Republic fighters turned on other Republic fighters. Fiery debris rained down over the capital. Panicked civilians sought refuge from the civil conflict, but found none. Squads of Clone Troopers marched through the wards, bashing in doors and dragging suspected conspirators into the street to be executed.

Karl Ancher kept to the shadows in the Palisades, an upscale ward of the city reserved for diplomats. The elaborate architecture and garden alcoves made perfect hiding places. "Kaine?" he whispered into his comlink.

"I'm in place. Two targets inside."

Ancher tapped on the dome of the R2 unit beside him. A panel in the droid's chassis opened, and it promptly inserted an interface tool into the control pad to deactivate the security system. The door to the luxury apartment slid open. With his hand on the heel of his blaster, the Corellian slipped inside and waited for the droid before closing the door.

A woman stood in the foyer with a raised blaster. Seeing him, she lowered the weapon. "I was afraid you wouldn't come."

Ancher licked his lips. "It's been twenty years. Figured it was important."

Emarra Cordova wrapped her slender arms about his neck. The folds of her expensive robes smelled of lilacs and jasmine. She looked good, but then she always looked good, despite the gray highlights in her hair and the deepening lines around her eyes. Though he wanted to be furious with her, he still loved her after two decades apart. Any angst he had about answering her distress call diminished in her embrace.

"This isn't exactly the prime time for a reunion. You need a ride?"

"Not for me, my daughter." She took his hand and led him to a living area the size of a small museum exhibit.

Lying on a regal sofa, a young woman laid shivering beneath a quilt. Her left shoulder and chest were wrapped tightly in medical gauze, but blood was still seeping through the dressing.

"Want to clue me in on what's going on?"

"Order 66," Emarra replied. "Senator Palpatine has declared war on the Jedi and anyone who would harbor them. Clone Troopers are turning on their Jedi commanders, slaughtering them in the streets. It's a war the Jedi cannot win. Not this time."

"A power grab?"

"And Tayri was trapped in the middle of it. Her master was executed by his own bodyguards. They nearly killed her as well."

"Why should I care?" Ancher asked. "I've no use for old religions or governments who cling to them. Where's her father?"

"I'm looking at him." Emarra stared at Ancher, imploring with her eyes. "I was pregnant before I married Senator Kilm. He used my pregnancy as leverage against my father. Threatened to ruin his reputation in the Senate. I had no choice, Ancher. That's why I couldn't runaway with you. That's what I was trying to tell you when you left me without even saying goodbye."

As if kicked in the chest, the smuggler took a step back.

"You spoke of loyalty among the Black Bha'lir, an unshakable devotion among thieves. Yet ... I was afforded none of these virtues."

"Does she know?" Ancher croaked.

Emarra nodded, her eyes shining with tears. "On Tayri's 16th birthday, she revealed to me that she was having dreams of a man who walked among black sands beneath a red sun. She was afraid at first. So was I, until Master Cynn explained to me what was happening. Her connection to you is undeniable." She squeezed his hand. "I told her stories about you. Your adventures. She loved them, and she has loved you from afar."

"You can't stay here," Ancher said. "They'll kill you."

"What I wouldn't give to run away with you," Emarra sighed. "But I can't. My father needs me. Now more than ever. We may yet be able to stop this madness. But I need Tayri to be safe. With you. There's no other sanctuary."

Scrutinizing the curves of Tayri's face, Ancher brushed the damp strands of auburn hair from her feverish forehead. Their resemblance was irrefutable. The high, elegant cheek bones were from her mother, and the broad, sculpted lines of her jaw were his. "Kaine, what's the situation?"

Carrying a Valken-38x sniper rifle, a figure dressed in black composite armor moved from the shadows on the balcony. A young black man, he was no older than Tayri. "Fifteen minutes, old man. If we want to live, we better not be here when they arrive."

"This is Kaine Paulsen," Ancher said. "My pilot, and a damn good one. Helluva a shot, too. Kaine, take Tayri back to the ship and prep for dust off. Quiet like. Pit-Pit," he said to the droid, "you're running point. Scramble our transponder code. I don't want the Republic or anybody else following our trail." The old guard smuggler wrapped the blanket around Tayri and lifted her from the sofa.

Kaine slung the rifle over his shoulder and took the girl from his arms. He turned to Emarra and whispered. "Min min vil ut tarq'l Nharqis."

Emarra looked to Ancher for a translation. "He's Socorran. If anyone tries to hurt her, he'll kill them and eat their ashes." Ancher nodded to send Paulsen back to the ship.

Wrapping her arms about Ancher's neck in appreciation, she whispered, "Do you remember how we used to make love at dawn?"

"Old wounds, Emarra, deep ones. The worst kind."

"Does it still hurt, Ancher?"

"Every damn day," he replied, his chest tight with the confession. "I'd have set fire to the entire galaxy for you."

"I know."

"Anything else I can do ... before it's too late?"

"Tell me you forgive me, Ancher," Emarra said, kissing him on the lips. "And tell our daughter that I love her. Very much."

"I forgive you," he whispered, his lips lingering above hers. "And I will." Ancher turned to leave. He felt her gaze on him, but refused to look back, knowing that if he did—he would not get off the planet alive.

"I know you're not a believer, Ancher," Emarra said when he hesitated at the door, "but may the Force be with you. Always."