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various sectors in the air between the droid and Jaden. There were only a few. The information was woefully thin.
    "Search for any charted system with a gas giant that appears blue to the human eye, ringed, with at least one frozen moon whose atmosphere would support a human."
    R6's processors whirred through the information he pulled from the HoloNet. Holographic planets appeared and disappeared so quickly in the space between them that Jaden soon felt dizzy. In a quarter hour, R6 had shuffled through a catalog of thousands of planets. None squared with Jaden's vision. Jaden was unsurprised. Most of the Unknown Regions were unmapped on Galactic Alliance star charts. The Chiss were out there. The remnants of the Yuuzhan Vong were out there. Who knew what else he would find in those uncharted systems?
    "An answer, perhaps," he said. But first he had to form the question, first he had to articulate what he sought. He felt the thin edge of a blade under his feet, felt himself wobbling on it. He was off balance.
    R6 beeped a query.
    The Force had sent Jaden a vision, this he knew. He would follow it.
    "Show me Fhost, Arsix."
    The images of various systems in the Unknown Regions blinked out, gave way to a magnified image of a dusty world, one half in its sun's light, one half in darkness. He stared at the line separating the two hemispheres. It looked as thin as thread, as thin as the edge of a blade.
    "Info on Fhost," he said, and R6 scrolled a readout of the planet in the air before Jaden's eyes. What little information existed was more than three decades old and came from an Imperial survey team.
    Fhost was the only world in the system occupied by sentients, though none was native, and its itinerant population wouldn't have filled a sports stadium on Coruscant. Its largest population center, Farpoint, had been built on the ruins of a crashed starship of unknown origin. Jaden imagined the place to be a haven for adventurers, criminals, and other undesirables who preferred to live at the edge of known space, all of them crowded into ad hoc shelters built on the bones of a derelict ship.
    But Fhost was his only lead. If he credited the Force vision at all—and how could he not?—he would have to follow it to his answer.
    "Get the Z-Ninety-five ready and prepare a course to Fhost," he said to the droid. He paused, then added, "And do not file a flight plan with the Order."
    R6 beeped a mildly alarmed tone.
    "Do as I ask, Arsix."
    The droid whirred agreement and wheeled out of the room.
    Whatever the vision wished to teach him , it would teach to him. He did not want other Jedi involved, did not even want the Order to know where he'd gone.
    This was to be his lesson, and his alone. He would find what he sought, get his question answered for himself.
     
     
    "Darth Wyyrlok," Kell said as he turned. The honorific came with difficulty to his lips. Both Wyyrlok and Krayt had adopted a title once carried by beings of greater stature.
    The Chagrian Sith Lord's mouth formed a tight smile, as if he sensed the meat of Kell's thoughts. Wyyrlok stood as tall as Kell, and the left horn on his head extended half a meter more; the right horn, lost some time ago to accident or battle, was a jagged stump only a few centimeters long. To Kell, it looked like a rotted tooth. The line of a scar extended the length of the Chagrian's face, a seam connecting the ruined horn to the corner of his mouth. Wyyrlok's robe, as black as a singularity and soaked with rain, hung heavily from his broad shoulders. The hilt of a lightsaber at his belt peeked out from under the folds.
    Kell imagined the insight he could gain by devouring a soup so rich as Wyyrlok's. A cyclone of daen nosi whirled around the Chagrian. The feeders within Kell's cheeks squirmed reflexively.
    "Anzat," the Sith said, with a faint nod.
    "The droid led me to believe I might see Darth Krayt himself. The message I received purported to come from him."
    Wyyrlok's eyes never left Kell's. "The