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“Teach me,” Han repeated.

“Two kindly old Corellians,” Leia continued, her expression innocent, “having a harmless game of cards.”

Pellaeon fixed Han with a disbelieving stare. “Your lady really does like the sight of blood, doesn’t she?”

Han gestured toward the old naval officer, a motion that somehow said, It’s settled. Luke took one last, quick look around. His attention fell on his son. Ben was paler than usual and unnaturally quiet. Luke saw Mara reach for the boy, probably to give his brow or chin an affectionate stroke, but Ben drew back without looking at her. Luke didn’t know whether the boy was shunning contact or simply didn’t want to seem to be a coddled child in front of the other Jedi, but he felt a faint pang of hurt from Mara—a pang she quickly, ruthlessly clamped down on.

He felt for her, but had no time to talk to her, to talk to Ben. He rose. “Let’s go,” he said.

Zekk, beside the door, hit the control panel and it slid open for Luke. His cloak streaming, his fellow Jedi trailing behind him, Luke swept out into the hall and prepared himself for what he knew was going to be a long night of investigating, negotiating, and theorizing.

“Sorry, have I interrupted a veterans’ parade?” Jaina asked.

Wedge, in anonymous gray civilian clothes, and Tycho, still in his dress uniform, were walking side by side down an outer-rim corridor; Wedge glanced back at Jaina and Zekk, then he and Tycho exchanged a look.

“Jedi are quiet,” Tycho said. “They sneak up on you even when they’re supposed to be your friends.”

Wedge grinned. “Maybe you’re just losing your hearing.”

“I was deafened by the sound of your joints creaking.”

“That could be it.” Wedge returned his attention to the datapad in his hands. It was open, and its small screen displayed a map of this section of Narsacc Habitat. The map background was black, the partitions and bulkheads were narrow yellow lines, and a dotted red line stretched from behind their current position to a point some meters ahead. “Tell her that I’m not sure I should be talking to a traitor.”

“General Antilles says—”

“Traitor?” Jaina stopped, aghast. “Wait a minute. I’m half Corellian by birth, sure, but I wasn’t raised as a citizen. And as Jedi, we’re supposed to put the interest of the greater good ahead of planetary concerns—”

“Not what I meant,” Wedge said, unruffled.

Tycho nodded. “She’s young. She jumps to conclusions.”

Wedge adjusted the datapad so that the map scrolled ahead. It now showed the red dotted line terminating at an air lock. “She also talks too much.”

“She has to. The boy who follows her everywhere doesn’t say anything.”

Jaina glanced back and up at Zekk. He nodded, admission that the point was well made.

“No,” Wedge said, “what I mean is that anyone as good as you are in a snubfighter, but who gives up the flying life to run around in robes and swing an impractical energy sword, has committed treason to her natural aptitudes.”

“I still fly,” Jaina said, “and I still fly X-wings, and you’re avoiding the subject.”

Wedge nodded. “All right. No more avoidance.” He drew a deep breath, then let it out in a guilty sigh. “This is not a veterans’ parade.”

“Well done,” Tycho said. “Confession does cleanse the spirit, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Wedge admitted.

Jaina held up her hands, fingers curled, as if on the verge of reaching for Wedge’s neck. “So what have you found?”

Tycho said, “As you know, the head security officer for the habitat is missing.”

“We know,” Jaina said, ruefully. “That’s what Zekk and I have been doing, looking for him. We looked at the holocam recordings—”

“Which don’t exist for Kallebarth Way for the time period of the attack,” Tycho said.

“Correct. We also went through his quarters, tried to get a sense of him…” She frowned.

“What is it?” Tycho asked.

Jaina smiled. “Oh, at last you’re curious. At last I have something you want to know.”

Tycho rolled his eyes. “Better tell her, Wedge. She’s going to get difficult.”

Wedge came to a stop so suddenly that Jaina almost bumped