“He’s not settling,” Mace said.

“Who’s not what?”

“Vastor. He’s pacing. Circling. Like a rancor staked out in the desert.”

“You surprised?”

“I shouldn’t be. He probably senses that even though the fight was real, my submission was fake. He’s just not sure what to do about it.”

Nick clipped the spray hypo back into its receptacle. “Unless your idea of fun is quality time with me and a medpac, I’d suggest you stay out of his way.” He tapped the bacta patch that covered the bite wound on Mace’s trapezius. “You wouldn’t believe how many different kinds of lethal bacteria I found in there. I do not want to know what he’s been eating.”

“I am less concerned with what he’s eating,” Mace said, “than with what’s eating him.”

“One easy guess.” Nick nodded toward Depa’s tent. “How is she?”

Mace shrugged. “As you saw.”


- Shatterpoint, Chapter 13