Everything was blurry and he felt like he was moving in slow motion.  He turned his head to the left and stared at the inside of his TIE Defender.  As he moved his head the lights on the control panel lefts trails in the air.  It was surreal.  Like a dream, but definitely not one.  It felt too real.  This wasn’t something his unconscious mind had created.  This was something he was recalling, remembering.  This had actually happened to him.  At some point in his past he had been in this exact same situation before.  As he tried to recall the outcome of the event, though, he found his mind to be failing him.

     Suddenly the star lines turned into stars and his TIE Defender exited hyperspace.  The sudden jolt had a dizzying effect.  He glanced down at his sensors and found that behind him an X-wing had followed him out of hyperspace.  His wingman for the mission, Sith Two.  She immediately locked her X-foils in an attack position.

     BEEP BEEP BEEP! 

     He glanced over at his long-range sensors and found more ships here than there should have been.  The cargo freighter was exactly where it should be, right off to port.  But right behind the freighter was another ship.  A big ship.  As big as his SSD.  Oh yeah, he thought to himself, I remember this mission now.  This is where...

     “Lead, I have a large contact portside, seven o’clock,” Two informed him.  The call was rather pointless.  It would be rather impossible to miss the presence of the humongous warship.

     "No shit, Two," he shot back.  He checked his sensors.  The large ship
was vectoring away from the freighter and putting itself on a direct course for
their escape route.  They weren't going to get there before the large warship
did.  They would have to fight their way out.  "It's blocking us from making
a quick jump out of the system.  Let's cut in close to sweep around it.  We
can hit the Whyren’s freighter with some torps once we're past and weaken it up a
bit for after they make their jump.  When it jumps we jump.  You're my wing."    

     “As order, Lead.”

     No!  Don’t do that!  It fails, the plan fails!  You’ll be captured! He tried to warn himself, to stop himself.  He failed.   

     He flew his TIE Defender straight for the warship which was now opening fire with its forward turbolaser batteries.  He swiftly and easily dodged the shots as he wove in and out.  Likewise, Sith Two behind him skillfully evaded the oncoming fire.  They took their snubbies in close to the warship, much closer than anyone in their right mind would ever dare.  It was the only way to get a proper ID lock on it.  Not that he needed an ID.  He knew who it was.

     “Looks like we finally drew Zarin out,” he said as he skimmed his fighter along the surface of the Terror of Space.

     “Could we call in the SSD for support?” Two asked.

     “Negative,” he quickly responded.  “Never fight on the battlefield that’s chosen by your enemy.”      

     “Roger, Lead.”

     Multiple signal beeps on his sensors panel informed him of new contacts.  “Stang, the Terror is deploying snubbies.  I’ll deal with them.  Two, target the freighter for a slug run.  Give it a few good shots on your way out.”

     “Negative, Lead.  I’m not leaving your wing.”

     Damnit, go!  If you don’t you’ll be captured, too!  He said the words but for some reason they weren’t transmitting.

     "I gave you an order Two," he said sternly, his voice implying that there was
no room to debate.    

     “Roger, Lead, compliance.”

     With that she took her X-wing straight through the oncoming wave of fighters and didn’t look back. 

     The fighters deployed by the Terror were nothing special.  Nothing compared to his TIE Defender, the best fighter craft ever designed.  Faster than an Interceptor, better shielding than a Y-wing, and deadlier than anything else that flies.  Even more deadly when you have a fully trained Sith Lord at the helm.

     In comparison, the old surplus Trade Federation drone fighters owned by TOS were nothing.  A cheap way to get a military, frankly.  It didn’t demand loyalty on anyone’s part.  Drones did as drones were programmed to, nothing more.  They were certainly nothing compared to the loyal soldiers serving on the SSD, people who chose to be there and chose to serve, fight, and die for Reno.  That kind of loyalty could make all the difference in a battle. 

     He didn’t even bother getting a lock on the oncoming fighters, which totaled two full squadrons.  He just pressed his finger on the firing stud and sent out blast after blast of green energy at the fighters.  The powerful blasts tore through the weak shields on the drones and by the time his Defender and the TOS fighters crossed paths they were minus four ships.  He had taken a few hits, but his superior shields had held and there was no actual damage.

     He circled his fighter around and got a lock on the nearest fighter, which was weaving an odd path along the hull of the Terror.  Suddenly he lost his target lock, and cursed.  The small ship was so close to the Terror that his target computer couldn’t tell one hostile signature from the other.  Nevertheless, he dropped his fighter into the drone’s wake and pursued. 

     As he put the fighter in his cross hairs he checked his sensors.  Far away, Two was pounding the surface of the freighter with her torps and lasers, disobeying an order Reno had given her.  He had told her one run and then out.  It was clear from the amount of damage on the freighter that she had decided to indulge herself and do more than one run.

     Suddenly, the freighter limped into lightspeed, oblivious to the knowledge that Sith Squadron and the rest of the SSD would be waiting for them at their destination. 

     "Lead, this is Two. The freighter jumped.  Damage was extensive. It won't be able to outrun the Siths with the SSD. I am coming back to cover you!"  

     "Negative Two. That Whyren's is too valuable. Follow the Freighter. Stay on its six. Make sure to back up the rest of Sith Squadron and the SSD."

     His Defender rocked as laser fire came in from all directions.  He had been
focusing on Two and not on his mission.  And he had not been focusing on the
Force.  That kind of lackadaisical approach was going to get him killed.  Not only was he taking damage from the pursuing TOS fighters, but from the Terror as well.  His shields were strong, but he couldn’t take direct hits from a capital class ship as big as the Terror. 

     "Lead! Your Defender is taking hits! I won't leave you!"

     She was right, of course.  There were just too many ships swarming around him to avoid all laser fire.  He was taking a lot of hits, in fact.  So many that his shields were gone before he even had time to realize they were dropping.  With a sudden flash of insight, he realized that he probably wasn’t going to make it.  He wouldn’t let Two die with him, though.

     "Two, I gave you an order."

     "Sorry Lead I can't hear you...comm is static."

     He knew full well that his transmission was coming in loud and clear, though.  For his good, yes, but still defying him.  He was Lead, she should be following his orders no matter what.  He resolved that if he ever got back to the SSD, he would make her pay.  Maybe make her Jace’s “personal assistant”...

     "Two, I will fire on you if you engage those fighters.  I am ordering you out of the Hot Zone. Get going, now!"

     The only response he got back was complete silence. 

     He put his attention back on the little droid fighter, who had so far evaded all his shots.  The drone was still flying his erratic path along the Terror's hull, masking
his ID signature with the bigger ship's ID.  He put his cross hairs on the small fighter and prepared to fire...

     Suddenly he was hit with something.  Not a last blast or missile, this was something completely different.  He felt this through the Force.  A presence...no, more than that.  A feeling.  It was so powerful that it rocked him back in his flight seat.  An intense anger and hatred, directed at him.  He glanced over at the Terror and knew immediately who it was coming from.

     It was at that moment he realized his big mistake.  The fighter had been
a decoy, something to lead him to where they wanted him to be.   He had scolded Two earlier about not fighting on the enemy’s territory and here he himself had fallen into that same trap.  And that powerful emotional blast he had received only seconds ago had been part of the plan, meant only to distract him.

     Without warning, hidden ion cannon’s emerged from the hull and a huge barrage of blue laser fire was directed at him.  He tried his best to avoid it, but no one could’ve succeeded.  He suddenly lost all power and control over his ship and with sudden horror realized he was floating totally dead in space, surrounded by enemy fighters and one big ass old starship.

     Just as it happened, he thought to himself, right down to the last detail.  What is this?  Why am I reliving this memory?

     Outside his cockpit he saw several fighters erupt into fireballs, and an
X-wing fly through the debris cloud.  Still Two was defying his orders.  She should’ve been out of here by now!  Why the hell was she throwing her life away futilely trying to save him?  She should know it’s pointless, at this time.  His fighter wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, and she couldn’t carry or drag him back.  Likewise, it looked like there were even more fighters out there than before.  The Terror was probably deploying every fighter it had at this point.  Two was good, but there was no way she could possibly win this fight.

     He felt a strong jolt and realized that his fighter was caught in a tractor beam.  With all his systems out, there was little he could do to avoid being brought in.  Nothing he could do, in fact.  Outside he saw Two's X-wing break off and follow the same vector into
hyperspace that the freighter had.  He sighed in relief.  At least Thunder made it out...

     Slowly, Reno was dragged into the docking bay of the Terror.  Amassed there he could see a whole army of old, beaten up looking Trade Federation droids, as well as a couple of human soldiers.  The humans were wearing some kind of frame on their back.  From here it looked like there were small, lizard-like creatures attached to them.  He had never seen such a thing, and wondered what they were for.  Nowhere did he see any Sith. 

     With a slight tremor, the ship set down on the docking bay floor.  He looked out the cockpit window again.  He could see at least two hundred droids waiting for him on the docking bay floor, guns already drawn.  He sighed.  This was going to be ugly.  Very ugly...

     ...and suddenly Reno woke from the memory, his eyes darting open.  Immediately, he squeezed them shut, as the light outside was blinding.  He could feel himself be dropped to the ground, which felt wet.  He felt simultaneously dizzy, nauseous, confused and tired.  He had no idea where he was, or what was going to happen to him.  He couldn’t even muster the strength to open up his eyes!

     Reno knew the source of his tiredness, too, at least the main source.  He hadn’t been able to feel the Force in....well, he didn’t even know how long.  Ever since he had been brought aboard the Terror after that dogfight with Thunder, however long that had been.  Once he had left his Defender to fight off the droids, he just felt the Force vanish.  He had been captured, obviously, and when he awoke next he was in a pitch-black cell completely cut off from everything, including the Force.  He couldn’t see anything, and he couldn’t feel anything.  He didn’t know if anyone else was in the cell with him.  He had called out, but no one answered.

     He hadn’t seen anything for just as long, either.  At the same time every night he would be rendered unconscious, and when he woke up there would be a plate of food for him to eat.  “Food” was being generous, though.  Maggot ridden meat and stale bread, topped off with the foulest tasting water he had ever tasted.  The first few nights he had refused to eat it, thinking that he could survive without food.  He was a Sith Lord, after all, he didn’t need that to sustain him.  He had the Force.  All the power of the Dark Side was his to control...

     But it wasn't, not anymore.  It hadn't been for a while.  And it might not
ever be again.  After several days of starvation, Reno had given in and eaten
the dinner his captors had provided.  .  If this imprisonment was designed as a
way to break him, he supposed that the first battle had probably been won by
them.  Reno had resisted their food, but in the end had broken down and ate whatever they gave him.

     But he wasn’t going to concede any other battles.  He let him have that one only because it was essential for him to stay alive.  And he would have to be alive if he was going to escape.  But no more.  No more concessions to them, no more defeats. 

     Reno tried to force his eyes open.  The blinding light was excruciatingly painful and he felt his head throbbing.  He wished Nuprin were here.  The little, yellow, different alien was known to be able to cure headaches from time to time.         

     He still couldn’t feel anything through the Force.  The universe was blind to him, and him to it.  He was starting to make out objects, though.  He could tell now from feeling around that the wet ground he felt was actually snow.  All he could really see was a giant light blur, but he was pretty sure most of that blur was just snow-covered ground.  He figured he probably wasn’t missing much in the way of scenery.

     Not for the first time, he wondered where the other Sith were, what they were doing, and if they were out searching for him or if they had just given up?  He wasn’t very sure exactly what would happen in his absence.  Technically Thunder would become Sith Leader, as she was his XO and had the most experience all around in battle.  She was a powerful Sith, the best swordsman they had, a damn good fighter pilot, and was competent (thought not exceedingly brilliant) as a Fleet commander.  Reno trusted her to lead the Sith, though.  However, Thunder had never much liked command.  The responsibility was something she could easily handle, but wasn’t something she particularly wanted.  That made him rather uncertain that Thunder would takes the reins of command in his absence, or if she did initially take it, that she would keep it.

     Next to Thunder, Jen was the longest running Sith in the squad.  Not as good with a lightsaber as Thunder (who had in fact taught her), but she was a better pilot than the Adumari woman.  However, Jen constantly let her emotions judge and guide her in battle.  Case in point with the whole Wes Janson matter...and just like Thunder, he wasn’t entirely sure Jen wanted to be in charge.  For Sith, they weren’t very power-hungry.  They seemed more content to just “be one of the Sith”.

     Jace Sidrona had the correct mindset to lead, but Reno wasn’t sure anyone would follow him.  Despite being around Reno and the squadron for a long time he hadn‘t flown with them since the beginning, instead focusing on becoming the best little Sith Lord he could be.  Jace was a good fighter pilot, there was no denying that, but he was still something of a rookie.  He really had little over a year of actual combat flights.  He really had no experience in Fleet command, and Reno wasn't confident in
his ability to command large forces, or plan assaults.  As well, not many people liked Jace that much.  Reno’s apprentice kept mainly to himself and associated little with others.  He didn’t think the others trusted Jace that much, and they sure had no reason to really respect him.  If he were betting, he would guess they wouldn’t follow Jace.  And if they did temporarily, then not for long.

     If anyone took command of Sith Squadron, it would be one of those three.  Or
maybe all three of them would share command.  He could almost see them using a
kind of democratic approach, as horrible as the idea sounded.  In a squadron
of Sith pilots, democracy should be foreign concept.  They need to be united
with one strong leader.  They needed one person who they can rally behind. 
They needed Reno.    

     But Reno wasn’t there.  Reno was here, wherever here was.  His eyes started to focus a bit more, and not too far off in the distance Reno could make out a large structure.  Though he couldn’t make out the details, it looked something like a citadel, though mostly submerged in snow.  Large towers stuck out from the sides, with huge gaping holes in them.  From the looks of it, there was probably some type of courtyard in the middle of the facility, or at least a large open area.  The place seemed very familiar. 

     He felt two pairs of hands grab both his shoulders and haul him up.  He could feel his feet dragging.  He tried to summon the strength to lift his head to see who it was dragging him, but he couldn’t do it.  His head fell back down and soon he was staring at the snow again.

     Reno was starting to get cold, very cold.  He wasn't used to being in snow,
at least not anymore.  Normally he was on the SSD, which was nice and climate controlled.  He generally avoided planets that were very cold, as snow just didn’t appeal to him anymore.  He had lived for ten years on a snow-covered planet, and that was more than enough.  He would’ve been happy if he hadn’t seen snow again for the rest of his life.  As it was, he had only lasted ten years without seeing the infernal stuff.  Ten years since...

     ...oh dear god...

     Suddenly he was completely aware of where he had been taken, where he was being dragged. 

     He heard a large pair of gates shutting behind him, and he was suddenly (and none too gently) dropped to the ground. Being a little more aware than last time, he was able to stick his hands up a bit and take away a little of the impact.  To his surprise, the ground wasn’t totally covered in snow here.  Instead, it looked as if the snow had been pushed off to the sides so the middle area would be wide open.  Despite lacking snow, the ground was still very cold and Reno’s torn and dirty garments weren’t offering much protection.

     Reno had hoped to never return to this place again.  It held way too many bad memories for him.  Lots of anguish, lots of pain.  Just being here and seeing this courtyard opened up old wounds he thought he had long since killed.

     He felt the hands grab him again, and he was quickly turned over onto his back.  Reno found himself staring directly at the sun, which again sent sharp stabs of pain through his eyes and into his head.  He reached up and blocked the sun from his eyes.  Not just the sun was there, though.  Standing above him were two figures, though the sun behind them was so bright he couldn’t make out their faces.  Instinctively he tried to reach out with the Force and get a sense of their presence, but he remembered pretty quickly that for whatever reason he was blind to the Force right now.  He squinted to make out there faces, but it really wasn’t necessary.  Reno knew who they were, even before one of them spoke.

     “Welcome home, Renn,” Zarin said, stepping out of the sun.  To Zarin’s left his apprentice Xanthis stepped forward, blaster in hand.  Without word or hesitation, he pointed it at Reno and fired a stun bolt, sending Reno into unconsciousness.

     When Reno awoke he was in a room, sitting in a rather cold and hard steel chair.  His clothes had been changed, probably for the first time in weeks.  Instead of his Sith robes, which were horribly dirty and torn, he wore what looked to be prison clothes of some kind, minus an ID number.  Plain, boring, and monotonous gray.  But at least they were warmer than his old rags, and cleaner.

     His hands were behind his back, binded to the chair.  Reno struggled against the binders, even though he knew it would be impossible for him to break them.   The room he was being held in wasn’t so much a room as it was a hall.  At approximately fifty meters in width and one hundred meters in length, it was very sparse of furniture.  The only furniture in it were Reno’s chair, the desk in front of him, and another chair beyond the desk.  Well, at least that was all Reno could see.  He was too drained of energy to turn his head to see directly behind him.  Lack of food and lack of sleep was really affecting him.  Even if he did somehow get out of the binders, there wasn’t anything he could do.  He hardly had enough energy to stand up and walk.  There was no way he could overpower Zarin and Xanthis, and pilot a ship out of here.  And that was assuming it was only the two of them.  They could have the entire Terror Of Space Force here, for all he knew.  Reno suppressed a sigh.  He hated TOS so much...

     This room wasn’t unfamiliar to him.  In fact, Reno had spent much of his teens practicing in this room.  Learning the art of the lightsaber duel, how to manipulate and master control over the Force.  This is where their Master had taught them when the falling snow outside became too vicious to train in.  The climate on this world was harsh, and it appeared to be nearing the end of an ice age.  There was still tons of snow all around, but it had receded in recent years and was nothing like the stories he had heard of it from several thousand years ago.  Compared to back then, the climate today was tame.     

     Behind him Reno heard a door close, and echoing footsteps that were getting closer and closer with each step.  He attempted to look around to see who it was, but his muscles failed him.  The echoing footsteps got louder and louder, closer and closer.  Reno couldn’t use the Force to sense who it was, but he really didn’t need to.  He wasn’t the least bit surprised a few seconds later when Zarin walked past him.  The older man didn’t give Reno a glance as he walked by and took his seat at the desk in front of him. 

     From his robes Zarin produced two small objects.  They were round and about an inch in diameter, perhaps a little thicker than a piece of flimsy in width.  He could clearly make out lines of circuitry on the flat sides of the objects.  Whatever they were it was definitely some fairly high tech stuff.  Zarin tossed them on the desk and stared at Reno.  For what seemed like the longest time they just stared at each other, their eyes locked in combat.  Again, Reno didn’t need the Force to read his thoughts or sense his emotions.  He could practically feel the hate and anger emanating off the Sith Lord.  But neither man said anything.

     Reno could tell that he was being measured up by Zarin.  The man was trying to gauge how strong he still was and how effective the initial rounds of his torture (the lack of sleep and healthy food) had been on him.  He was trying to figure out just by looking at Reno how much fight he was going to put up.  He probably figured that Reno was already beaten or at least close to it.  Well, Reno planned to fully disappoint him.  It might be hidden deep inside but Reno knew there was still a fire inside of him, and he wasn’t going to let it be extinguished by Zarin.  But still, neither man spoke.        

     Reno couldn’t even begin to guess what Zarin was going to do to him, or how he planned to torture or interrogate him.  It probably had something to do with those two small disks he brought with him, but what those were Reno had no idea.  Probably some kind of pain giving devices.  Most likely they emitted an electrical shock.  Had he the strength, Reno would’ve let out a sarcastic laugh.  How typical, and boring.  Electric pain givers, like those hadn’t been overused in every interrogation he had ever seen.  So trite and overused.  He was almost embarrassed at Zarin’s lack of originality.  Yet neither man spoke to each other.

     It had been ten years since they’d last seen each other, and a lot had happened.  Zarin looked different.  His blond hair was cut a little shorter than military length, though the sides were completely shaved off.  Physically he had bulked up since their last encounter, and not in a bad way.  His shoulders were broad and muscular, and Reno could tell he was in fantastic shape.  It looked like when Reno was hitting the couch with a bottle of Whyrens and watching holo porno’s on the BigAss Viewport, Zarin had been hitting the weight benches.  He looked in great shape.  Finally Reno got tired of the silence and forced himself to speak.

     “So, uhh...how you doin?”

     Zarin stared at him in a confused silence and his eyes narrowed.  “After ten years that’s all you have to say?”

     “Well, it was either that or ‘my cat’s breath smells like cat food.’.”

     Zarin shook his head, clearly disappointed.  “Still the joker, Renn.  You never did know when to be serious.”

     Reno ignored the criticism and the name Zarin had called him.  “So what now?  You can interrogate me all you want, I won’t tell you a thing.”

     The Sith Lord rested his hands on the desk, his finger idly stroking the two metallic devices he had brought with him.  “Interrogation?  I think not.  We’re far beyond that.”

     “Then what?” Reno asked.  “Torture?  You can’t break me.”

      Zarin glared at him from across the desk, and Reno was immediately reminded of why he never intentionally made Zarin angry during the ten years they trained together.  Zarin had always been bigger than Reno, and despite his training in the ways of the Force the older man had always intimidated him.  “I can, and I will.  But not in the way you think.”

     Zarin plucked the two devices off the desk and walked around the desk till he was standing besides Reno.  He reached out and stuck one of the metallic circles on Reno’s left temple.  Reno tried to resist, but with his hands tied behind the chair there wasn’t much he could do.  And even if his hands weren’t binded, he doubted he could overpower Zarin in his current state.  Zarin stuck the other metallic circle on Reno’s right temple, then fidgeted with a button on it.  A searing pain was sent through Reno’s head so strong tears escaped his eyes as he squeezed them shut.  It felt like it lasted for minutes, but Reno knew in reality it probably only lasted for a second or two.  Reno shook his head in a vain effort to shake away the pain.  It appeared he was right, they had been electric pain givers.  How clichéd...

     “My apologies for the pain,” Zarin said as he walked back around to his desk.  “They just needed to calibrate to your brain wave.  It can sometimes be...unpleasant.”

     “Electric pain givers, Zarin?  Very unoriginal of you.  I’m disappointed.  You realize how many interrogations have been done using these?  I thought clichés this bad were below you.”

     “Would you rather I asked how many lights you saw?” Zarin muttered, as he settled back in his chair.  “Besides, those aren’t pain givers.  The initial calibration is slightly painful, but from now on the only pain they’ll give you is from the pain you already have inside of you.”

     “What are you talking about?” Reno cautiously asked.

     “The pain inside of you, Renn,” Zarin said again, his voice low.  “The pain buried deep in your soul.  The one that you won’t let out.  The one you thought didn’t exist.  It does exist, and it wants out.”

     Reno weakly shook his head.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said back.  And truthfully, he didn’t.  Reno had no idea what Zarin was rambling about.  There was no pain deep inside Reno...he didn’t feel pain, and he certainly didn‘t harbor any deep secrets.  Perhaps Zarin had finally gone crazy?  That made more sense to him.  But Reno could tell from looking in Zarin’s eyes that the man was in his right mind.  He wasn’t crazy, he was just wrong.  Very wrong.

     “Not yet you don’t,” Zarin cryptically replied.  “But you will.  Well...let‘s get started, shall we?  What is your name?  Your real name.”

     Reno sat there stone-faced, teeth clinched together.  “You know my name.”

     “Name?” he repeated, sterner.

     “Reno,” he finally replied.

     “You’re not Reno.  Not anymore.  Name?”

     “My name is Reno.”

     “From now on, Reno is dead.  He doesn’t exist.  Name?”

     “I am Reno!” he shouted, straining his husky voice.

     “No!” Zarin yelled back.  “You are not Reno!  ‘Reno’ died several weeks ago when he was foolish enough to attack a warship by himself.  ‘Reno’ died when his pitiful control over the Force allowed him to be captured.  ‘Reno’ died when he was stupid enough to trust information from a source that he didn’t know just so he and his ‘Sith’ could get drunk later.  In fact, now that I think about it, I’m not sure ‘Reno’ ever even existed.”

     “If I’m not Reno, then who am I?” he asked.

     “Your name is Renn Hado, and from now on that is all you shall be called.  But that is just who you are,“ Zarin said softly. “The real question isn’t who you are, the question is what you are.”

     “Then what am I?” Reno asked back.

     Zarin didn’t answer back.  He just smiled and let out a small chuckle.  “You were born on Coruscant, right Renn?  Did you ever know your parents?”

     Reno was already growing tired of Zarin’s questions, and he sure as hell didn’t feel like answering them.  He wasn’t going to give Zarin the satisfaction, the compliance.  Answering questions would be conceding, admitting defeat.  He wasn’t going to do that.  He had to draw a line, and draw one soon.  If he didn’t, Zarin would walk all over him.  He had to show Zarin that Reno was in control, and that he hadn’t and couldn’t be broken.  That he wouldn’t submit, concede, or obey. 

     Not answering the question was easy.  All he had to do was sit there, keep his mouth shut and stare at Zarin.  Not thinking about the question was a bit harder.  Impossible, in fact.  His mind, try as he might to avoid it, was focusing on the question.  Or more appropriately, its answer. 

     And suddenly the room got white.  A blinding flash overtook him, and the last thing he saw was Zarin grinning at him.