The crystal deposits in the rocks glowed brilliantly around Ren as he stepped into the cave mouth. He did not rush over the stony surface beneath his feat, but walked at a slow, thoughtful pace. There was, he sensed, nothing whatsoever to be gained by hurrying. His confrontation with Sakar seemed to be burned into the Force to the point that there was nothing he could do to alter or hurry it. All that was about to come to him, it seemed, had been mapped out by a mind far more ancient and powerful mind than his own. Distantly he wondered if he had any free will at all in his present circumstances. Physically, he could frustrate all of Kalethian's plans for him with one quick movement of his lightsaber, but then he could not take his own life when there was still a chance that Neeka could be saved. All he could do was to move steadily toward his fate, whatever it was.

Satral sat not far away from the cave mouth, his hands folded in his lap, his neck craned so that his closed eyes pointed up toward the ceiling. The old Krell was utterly withdrawn from his physical surroundings and, Ren sensed, was contented to remain so. Ren could sense massive psychic currents flowing into Satral from every direction. He gazed at the gray skinned alien intently, seeing not a person, but a concentration of Force energy taken form – a concentration from a much greater being. He understood what the krell were now. The gray skins were more or less figures in Kalethian's dream that had become more and more complicated as the centuries passed.

Whatever the case, this gathering of knowledge and power would take time. There was no point in disturbing the old man. Kalethian, or whatever remained of him, could not be hurried."

He felt a little tickle suddenly of an extremely intelligent mind focused on him, and he said: "Hello, Dalvin."

"What the hell is he doing?" Dalvin's voice hissed back.

"Gathering the whole of the dessert into a single grain of sand."

"What?"

"Everything that is going to go into me must first be pulled into him. It takes time."

"Interesting."

"If you're wondering, no one has begun to torture Neeka as yet. She's not even conscious at the moment according to every sith communication I have cracked."

"I suspected as much," Dalvin said. "Sakar's light saber cut directly into her spinal column. She has to regenerate neural connections to more than half her body. In a state like that, her brain will automatically go into a coma. It's one of the few flaws in her otherwise perfect biological design."

"I'll let you know if I feel anything different from her. I promise."

"I wanted to let you know I've come up with nine-hundred-and-seven different extraction plans thus far. I managed to plant a number of viruses in the enemy's vessel, many of which they will not be able to get rid of or even detect in the next twenty-four hours. I assume that is the time-frame we are working with?"

"Your guess is probably much better than mine at this point," said Ren.

"Perhaps, but I've found that your senses have a way of seeing things that all my technology and calculating power cannot."

"You want to know if I can at all predict what's about to happen to me," said Ren.

"Can you?"

"No, not even a little." Ren took a breath. "Just have the explosives ready."

"How will I know when to use them? If Kalethian has enough power to do everything we believe he's done, would it be too much of a stretch to suppose he can pass himself off as you once he's leaped inside your body? I doubt the collective memory of your entire life would be much of a challenge for a mind as ancient and tenacious as his to assimilate."

"Too bad we can't substitute yours," said Ren.

Dalvin gave a hard chuckle. "Oh, I don't think he could handle my mind. I sure as hell can't."

Ren hesitated, then said: "I might not be myself anymore in a very short time. Since you're one of my only friends, why don't you tell me something about yourself."

"What would you like to know?"

"Why do you hate Malanctha so much?"

"Hah!" Dalvin laughed. "That's easy. She's the reason I look the way I do."

"I thought the military made you a cyborg."

"They did, but aside from one artificial eye I was quite human on the outside. They were really only interested in experimenting on my brain. It was much later, after Neeka, Cathock and I escaped, that all my metal appeared. You see, we were fugitives, but we weren't the sort that the government could advertise about in criminal databases. They had to solicit our capture quietly, and to do that they went to a mercenary who was highly renowned for both her resourcefulness and her discretion."

"Malanctha," Ren guessed.

"Correct. She managed to catch up with us fairly quickly once assigned. You see, we were inexperienced at hiding in those days – unwise in the ways of the galaxy despite the level of skill we possessed in some areas. Malanctha tracked us, and picked me as the one to advance upon. I was the least dangerous in close quarters after all and, being male, I was easy prey for her. She used her pheromones on me and set my mind swimming. In just a few minutes I thought I was in love with her. It was pathetic really." A low laugh crackled through Ren's wrist computer.

"I told her everything she wanted to know about myself and Neeka and Cathock," Dalvin continued. "Once she had all of that she enticed me to go back to her room in the cantina. As soon as we were inside she slid a needle into an artery in my neck with one of her smooth, clever gestures. That was where matters got ugly." Dalvin's voice became more acidic as he said: "You see, my nervous system and my brain are partially synthetic and thus immune to chemical changes in my physiology. My android neural pathways took control of my body and, in as much capacity as they could without my higher brain functions, began a decision making process. They decided that Malanctha was an enemy and that she should die, and they stimulated and directed all the muscles in my arms to reach out and strangle her. Unfortunately, my neuro-circuitry was never designed to work in this way, and the process was incredibly clumsy. I managed to get ahold of Malanctha's throat, but her blaster came up and... I had virtually no reflexes with which dodge away as she fired at me. My left arm as well as most of the left side of my torso from about the naval up were incinerated in an instant. Fortunately Malanctha had a kolto-tank on her ship, which she managed to throw my body into before I had a chance to reach chemical death. That tiny little body of hers is remarkably strong – certainly not to the degree Neeka's is – but stronger than human."

"How did you all become allies then?" said Ren.

"It had nothing to do with me. I sat in that damn tank for nearly eight months. In that time Malanctha infiltrated the very confused duo of Neeka and Cathock, befriending them and offering them help in their search for me. She was about to make her move on them when the government, who had been keeping an eye on Malanctha's progress and were not interested in leaving anyone alive who had knowledge of their biological engineering projects, decided to kill the three of them and take back possession of me. Malanctha, being a clever enough little reptile, caught wind of the military's move and teamed up with my two pseudo-siblings to stay alive. The three of them played a very elaborate game of predator and prey with the military for over half a standard year. In that time Malanctha came to trust and care for Neeka and Cathock, and they her. Eventually she told them all about herself, and a bit later... about me. I don't really know how she bridged the subject but, smooth and charismatic as she is, she was able to gain their forgiveness for what she had done to me – even their understanding." Ren detected a trace of deep bitterness in his voice.

"It was Neeka who held me in her arms when I emerged from the kolto tank. She and only she in all the universe could convince me to make peace with her new ally. She cried, and talked about how many times Malanctha had saved her life. My darling little Neeka, who had managed to show me my own humanity when I thought I was just a machine, was asking me. In the end my love for her won out over my hatred of Malanctha."

"She really is a special girl, isn't she?" said Ren, the words bringing a swell of emotion as he spoke them.

"One in a quadrillion," Dalvin's voice hissed back. "She has even been to get you to care about her. I have monitored your reactions to all these indigenous people. You don't exactly seem to care much for your fellow sentient."

"They're not people."

"Perhaps, but that female Jedi is a person, and so are the mandalorians. You don't care much about any of them either. You somewhat care about Cathock and me, and... your mother—well, that situation seems to be extremely complicated, psychologically speaking. But for Neeka you feel rather fiercly. You're willing to die for her. That's the main reason I haven't killed you for putting her in the middle of all of this."

"Very kind of you," said Ren. Some part of his brain vaguely played out several contests of life and death between the two of them. Ren had faced and killed hundreds of opponents, but none were anything like Dalvin. "You might recall somewhere in that cybernetic brain that Cathock was the one who found the information leading here; not I."

"Yes, but that Sith lord didn't put a lightsaber through Neeka's spine to get at Cathock, did he?"

"No," said Ren in a solemn voice. His eyes fixed suddenly on Satral, who was beginning to stir. The old, gray eyelids were fluttering up and down, seeming as if they were readying to open. "I cannot talk anymore, Dalvin."

"Understood," said Dalvin's voice, and then Ren's wrist computer went silent.

Satral blinked and then looked up at Ren, and a wide grin came across his wrinkled face. He tilted his head from side to side, cracking all the little joints in his neck and then, wobbling, got awkwardly to his feet. "I am not quite so young as I used to be," he said with a small laugh.

"Why does Kalethian have you age at all?" said Ren. He could hear contempt leaking into his tone as he spoke.

"Ideas can grow old – at least that is how I have come to look at it," said Satral, still smiling. "I am incredibly fortunate to have lived long enough to have met you, young Blakthar."

Ren narrowed his eyes at the apparition in front of him, sensing strange currents in the Force. "What we are about to do will kill you, won't it?"

"The portion of my god's consciousness that makes up Satral will burst into tiny bits of energy, which will then return to the source." He did not sound upset at all by this.

"Do the Krell weep for each other?" said Ren.

"Some do – those who do not understand what they are – those that our god has not taken the time to imbue with his will. It hardly matters. There is nothing to weep for. We are all god and he is all of us. That doesn't change even if the individual natures of our bodies do."

"If I killed you, Kalethian would simply choose another vessel."

"Yes, he has many, but I do not think you have time for that, lord Blakthar."

Neeka flashed through Ren's mind. "Will I finally understand the game that Kalethian has been playing with me?"

"I cannot say for certain, but I feel, young man, that you will come to understand everything."

Ren stepped forward, his hearth beginning to pound in his chest. "Let us begin then."

"As you wish," said Satral. Slowly, thoughtfully, he lifted his wrinked, gray right hand and put the palm gently against Ren's forehead.

The cave and the old gray-skinned krell, as well as everything is around Ren began to slowly phase out of both his vision. In a few seconds he was floating. There was no ground beneath his feat; there was only an inky blackness that surrounded him in all directions. He was not engulfed in darkness though, as his senses first seemed to suggest, for when he looked down at his hands he could see them clearly as if light were shining on him from every direction. He asked the Force where he was, but it seemed unable, or unwilling to give him an answer. He could feel nothing from the universe around him – if he was in the universe at all. There was no up and no down, no points of reference and no sense of gravity. His body felt strangely tranquil in that state; it needed nothing – not water, not food, not even air it seemed.

"You are on a mental plain, Ren Blakthar," a voice that seemed to come from every direction at once in an echoing, chorus like voice, as if hundreds were speaking each word in near perfect unison.

Ren gazed around, turning his head and body in every direction. He could see nothing but the ever-continuing blackness. "Show yourself," he said.

"Will that put you at ease?" the voice said gently. "As you wish."

A great swell of what almost seemed like smoke fizzled into existence from the blackness, growing and yet congealing together at the same time. The shape that began to form was not that of a mortal man, but a shape many thousands of times larger. Ren gazed up as the fizzling mass began to solidify more and more. It began to take on colors, and he saw a face far above him looking down. It was a blood-red face with black markings. It was the face of a Sith – not a mere follower of the ancient religion – but one of the original race, with the fierce yellow eyes and moving tentacles on the face. As Ren gazed up at it he suddenly felt something under his feet and looked down to realize that he was standing in the center of a great hand gloved in black. Ren was like a small rodent in that hand, if not an insect. The situation was visually terrifying. At the same time he did not sense danger – at least not in any immediate sense.

"My boy, I have waited far longer than you can imagine to meet you," the massive figure said. Ren noted that the voice continued to seem to come from every direction rather than from the great mouth speaking down to him. He felt the hand lift him suddenly and bring him up in front of the enormous, red face.

Ren felt visceral recognition of the eyes. Two burning yellow spheres bespeaking thousands of years worth of acquired power and knowledge. They saw into him in ways he could not imagine. How titanic was the power of Kalethian? He was as a God in the Force—utterly without limit.

"But I do have limitations," the great voice said. "That is why I require you. That is why I created you." The great, blood-red lips smiled under the tentacles on his face. "I am so very proud of you, Ren. I am certain you have questions for me. For you alone in all the universe, I will speak as I have not spoken in centuries."

Ren felt small and insignificant in the face of this great being, but he still possessed the courage to know the truth. He stared up into the ancient face and said: "You created me, did you not?"

"I am your architect," Kalethian said. Suddenly the ancient Sith Lord was standing on front of Ren and he was only slightly taller than Ren instead of the great giant he had been. It had happened in the blink of an eye, and Ren had not even noticed that he was standing on some invisible surface instead of Kalethian's hand.

"It took centuries to bring you into existence," Kalethian went on. "I had to comb my home galaxy in ways you cannot possibly comprehend to find two suitable specimens to come together and produce a child with all the precise necessary qualities. But that was only the beginning. I guided and manipulated the development of your mind. I have been with you, Ren, every step of the way—at every instant of your life. Every aspect of your existence from before you were born has adhered to my design."

Ren could feel all the hope within him dying and giving way to his fears. "Why?" he asked.

Kalethian's great eyes seemed almost to gleam with intensity as he stared down at Ren. "You already know the answer, Ren."

"Your immortality coming to an end," said Ren.

"Correct," said Kalethian. "I have been regenerating the same physiology for nearly thirty centuries, and for all my skill there has still been... degradation. I discovered a difficult truth in my exile from the rest of the universe: no flesh may live on forever."

"But a mind can," Ren whispered. He felt cold and numb as the ancient sith lord paced in front of him.

He smiled. "You have been putting things together for some time. You are just as clever as I was two thousand years ago. Tell me the theory you have constructed."

"You need me to surrender myself to you."

"Once again, correct," said Kaethian. "It is because of the unique brain I crafted for you, Ren. I knew a brain capable of containing my consciousness would, by its very nature, be immensely resilient to possession."

The pieces fell into place in Ren's mind, aligning perfectly to his fears. "I am going to accept you because it is the only way to save Neeka's life." He turned and looked into the pale eyes of the ancient sith lord. "All this time I wondered why I was special. I wondered why I could wield the darkside but never be consumed by it. It was for the simple reason that that was the kind of cattle you required. The years of training, the trials and rituals on this planet, all orchestrated by you, all designed to make me a greater sith, but no true sith would ever sacrifice his own mind – his own being – willingly. No, you needed a sith who was not a sith."

Kalethian gazed at Ren with intensity as he spoke. His strange, squid-like face seemed utterly relaxed and alert in the same moment. He was a master player watching a game unfold he had already won. "You suspected all of this before you descended into this cave, yet you came with a quiet resolve. You are a noble being, in your way."

"I am a puppet," said Ren. He was feeling angry now. "You foresaw and calculated and manipulated all of this before I was born. Neeka is your means to manipulate me, which means you orchestrated our affections toward one another. Everything she felt for me was your lie."