Shatterpoint

This is how far I have fallen, even I, a Jedi Master. This is what a few days in this war has brought me to: threatening the lives of children I would give my own to save.

And if these Balawai call my bluff?

The best outcome I can then foresee: these children will have to watch as their parents, or their parents' friends, are killed by a Jedi.

Best outcome-the phrase is itself a mockery. On Haruun Kal, there seems to be no such thing.

Forked.

And yet, in dejarik, one doesn't get forked by accident. It's the result of a mistake in play.

But where was my mistake that left us here?

Glow rods below. They've left the steamcrawlers and are advancing on foot. No one has called out. They will have tried to raise this outpost on comm; getting no answer, they'll approach with caution. I wouldn't be surprised if those glow rods are lashed to long sticks, to see if they draw sniper fire.

There are a lot of them.

Now, in desperation, I can only do as I always have, when I have faced impossible situations: I turn to Yoda's teachings for advice and inspiration. I can summon in my mind his wise green eyes, and imagine the tilt of his wrinkled head. I can hear his voice: If no mistake have you made, yet losing you are. a different game you should play.

Yes. A different game. I need a different game. New rules. New objectives. And I need it in about thirty seconds.

Terrel? Terrel, come up here. All of you. Pell, wake up the boys. We're going to play a game.

[the voice of a boy, faintly]: "What kind of game?" A new game. I just made it up. It's called Nobody Else Dies Today.

[another boy's voice, faintly]: "I was 'sleep. "S this go

GAMES IN THE DARK L hese Balawai may have been irregulars, but they were both expe rienced and disciplined.

Their recon squad entered the ruined com pound in three teams of two, spread over 120 degrees of arc to giv them overlapping fields of fire. While glow rods still waved halfwa along the slope below, these six entered in total silence and dee shadow. They must have had some kind of night-vision equipmem if the Force hadn't let Mace feel the stark threat of their weapon: points of aim, he wouldn't have known they were there.

He stood in impenetrable shadow, looking out between th twisted jags of durasteel that were the remnants of the bunker's dooi He could feel a darkness deeper than the night gathering upon th compound like fog rising from damp ground. The darkness soakd in through his pores and pounded inside his head like a black mi graine.

There had never been light bright enough to drive back darknes like this; Mace could only hope to make of himself a light brigh enough to cut through it.

,' am the blade, he told himself silently.,' will have to be; there is n other.

"Terrel," he said softly. "They're here. Go ahead, son." "You're sure? I can't see anything," Terrel said from beside him. He wiped his nose, then made fists as though he were holding on to his courage with both hands. "I can't see anything at all." "They will be able to see you," Mace said. "Call out." "Okay." Staying in the shadows, he repeated, "Okay," but this time in a loud call. "Okay, hey, don't shoot, okay? Don't shoot! It's me!" The night went silent. Mace felt six weapons trained on the bunker door. He murmured, "Tell them who you are." "Yeah, uh, hey listen, it's Terrel, huh? Terrel Nakay. Is my dad out there?" A woman's voice came out of the darkness to Mace's left, shrill with hope. "Terrel? Oh, Terrel! Is Keela with you-?" The girl with the head wound held Pell and the two boys well back from the doorway, but when she heard the woman's voice she started unsteadily to her feet. "Don't go out there," Mace said. "And keep the smaller children still. We don't want anyone shot by accident." She nodded and sank back to her knees, calling out, "Mom, I'm here! I'm okay!" "Keela! Keela-Keela-is Pell with you?" A man shouted from the center, "Quiet!" "Rankin, it's Terrel and Keela! Didn't you hear them? Keela, what about Pell-" "Hold your position, you stupid nerf! And shut up!" the man snarled. His voice was ragged: angry, exhausted, and desperate. "We don't know who else is here! This place is completely fragged." "Rankin-" "They could be bait. Shut your mouth before I shoot you myself." Mace nodded to himself. He would have suspected the same thing.

"Terrel?" The man called out in a much softer tone: warily calm. "Terrel, it's Pek Rankin.

Come on out where we can see you." Terrel looked at Mace. Mace said, "You know him?" The boy nodded. "He's-sort of a friend of my dad's. Sort of." "Go on, then," Mace said gently. "Move slowly. Keep your hands in plain sight, away from your body." Terrel did. Out from the bunker door, feeling his way down the grade toward the shattered huts. "Can somebody put on a light? I can't see." "In a minute," Rankin's voice replied from the darkness. "Keep on coming this way, Terrel.

You'll be all right. What happened to your 'crawler? How come you don't answer comm?

Where are the other kids?" "We had an accident. But we're okay. We're all okay. Okay?" Terrel caught his foot on a rock and stumbled. "Ow! Hey, the light, huh? I got one broken arm already." "Just keep walking toward my voice. Are you alone? Where are the other kids?" "In the bunker. But they can't come out," Terrel said. "And you can't go in." "Why's that?" Mace said, "Because I'm in here." In the Force he felt their tension ratchet up, sharp as an indrawn breath. After a moment, Rankin's voice came out of the darkness. "And who might you be?" "You don't need to know." "Is that so? Why don't you step out where we can get a look at you?" "Because the temptation to take a shot at me might prove overwhelming," Mace said. "Any bolts that miss will be bouncing around the inside of this bunker. Where there are four more i

He's just afraid you'll shoot him 'cause he's a korno!" A burst of low, half-strangled profanity came from the right.

Terrel called hastily, "But he's not a real korno. He just looks like one. He talks almost like a regular person-and he's like, like a, a bounty hunter, or something." His voice trickled off, leaving a silence empty and ominous. Mace felt currents of intention shifting and winding through the Force; the Balawai must have been consulting in whispers on comm.

Finally, Rankin called out once more. "So? What drr "QU want?" "I want you to take these children and go away from nere." "Huh? What else?" "That's all. Just take the children and go." "Well. Aren't you generous," Rankin said, dry. Bitter. "Listen, I'm go