Star Wars: Path of Destruction: A Novel of the Old Republic by Drew Karpyshyn

weapons when they first took him into custody; now they did a more thorough search and stripped him of all other personal effects. Then they shut down the containment field and roughly tossed him in, not even bothering to release his cuffs. He landed awkwardly on the hard ground at the bottom of the hole. As he struggled to his feet he heard an unmistakable hum as the field was activated once again, sealing him in.
    The pit was empty, other than Des himself. The Sith didn’t tend to keep prisoners around for long. He began to wonder if he’d made a serious mistake. He’d hoped his past service might buy him some leniency at his trial, but now he realized his reputation might actually work against him. The Sith Masters weren’t known for their tolerance or their mercy. He’d defied a direct order: there was a good chance they’d decide to make a harsh example of him.
    He couldn’t say how long they’d left him at the bottom of the pit. After a while he fell asleep, exhausted by the battle and the forced march. He slipped in and out of consciousness; at one point it was light outside his prison and he knew day must have come. The next time he came to it was dark again.
    They hadn’t fed him yet; his stomach was growling in protest as it gnawed away at itself. His throat was parched and dry; his tongue felt as if it had swollen up large enough to choke him. Despite this, there was a slowly increasing pressure on his bladder, but he didn’t want to relieve himself. The pit stank enough already.
    Maybe they were just going to leave him here to die a slow and lonely death. Given the rumors he’d heard of Sith torture, he almost hoped that was the case. But he hadn’t given up. Not yet.
    When he heard the sound of approaching footsteps he scrambled to his feet and stood straight and tall, even though his hands were still cuffed in front of him. Through the containment field he could just make out the blurred forms of several guards standing on the edge of the pit, along with another figure wearing a heavy, dark cloak.
    “Take him to my ship,” the cloaked figure said in a deep, rasping voice. “I will deal with this one on Korriban.”

Chapter 8
    Des never got a clear look at the man who’d ordered his transfer. By the time they’d gotten him out of the pit, the cloaked figure had vanished. They gave him food and water, then let him clean and refresh himself. Though he was freed from the cuffs, he was still under heavy guard as he boarded a small transport ship heading for Korriban.
    Nobody spoke to him on the trip, and Des didn’t know what was going on. At least he wasn’t cuffed anymore. He chose to take that as a good sign.
    They arrived in the middle of the day. He had expected them to touch down at Dreshdae, the only city on the dark and forbidding world. Instead the ship landed at a starport built atop an ancient temple overlooking a desolate valley. A chill wind blew across the landing pad as he disembarked, but it didn’t bother Des. After the stale air of the pit, any breeze felt good. He felt a shiver go down his spine as his foot touched Korriban’s surface. He’d heard that this had once been a place of great power, though now only the merest shadows remained. There was an undercurrent of malice here; he’d felt it as soon as the transport had entered the bleak planet’s atmosphere.
    From this vantage point he could make out other temples scattered across the world’s desert surface. Even at this distance he could perceive the eroded rock and crumbling stone of the once grand entrances. Beyond the valley, the city of Dreshdae was a mere speck on the horizon.
    He was met on the landing pad by a hooded figure. He could tell right away this wasn’t the same one who had come to him in the pit. This person had neither the size nor the impressive bearing of his liberator; even through the containment field Des had been able to sense his commanding presence.
    This figure, which Des now thought to be