The Sith Holocron has been stolen!"

Dooku was naturally pale, but he felt his blood drain from his face, and he was sure he looked as white as a medic's gown. "What? How?"

"No one knows how," Hran said. "There could be an intruder at the Temple."

One of the younger students lowered his voice to a whisper. "What if it's a Sith?"

Hran's eyes twinkled. "Yes, what if it is?" he asked solemnly. "He could be walking the halls. He could be anywhere. What if he's behind you right now?" Hran gasped and pointed behind the young student, who jumped in alarm, his Padawan braid flying.

The others burst into nervous laughter. Dooku didn't join them. His heart thumping, he turned away.

There had been no intruder. He was sure of it.

Dooku hurried to Lorian's quarters. The privacy light was on over Lorian's door, but he accessed it anyway. The door was locked.

Dooku pressed his mouth against the seam of the door. "Let me in, Lorian."

There was no answer.

"Let me in or I'll go straight to the Jedi Council room," Dooku threatened.

He heard the smooth click as the lock disengaged, and the door slid open. The room was dark, the shade drawn against the rising sun. He stepped inside and the door hissed shut behind him. All was dark except for the hologram of Caravan, a model star cruiser Lorian had designed. It traveled the room in an endless loop.

Lorian sat in a corner, as if he were trying to press himself against the wall hard enough to melt inside it. His hands dangled between his knees, and Dooku saw that they were shaking.

"You took it."

"I didn't mean to," Lorian said. "I just wanted to look at it."