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Corran didn’t comment. Luke knew that he, Luke, was an exception to that generalization. His own homeworld of Tatooine held no lure for him—hadn’t in all the decades since he’d left it to find a new home elsewhere.

Corran gestured down the hallway toward the rear of the enclave. “I’ve set up one of the bolt-holes as a staging area. Your lightsaber components are there. Also clothes, supplies, credits—”

“Thanks.” Together they walked down the hallway and then down a spiral flight of stairs. “So,” Luke said.

“So.”

“So, what’s the attitude of the Corellian Jedi? What do I need to know?”

They emerged from the staircase into another corridor that was lit only by emergency glowstrips. Corran took three steps from the entry into the hall, then raised a hand, holding it against one wall almost at ceiling height. “It’s here,” he said. “A simple bolt and counterweight. Just give it a tug.”

Luke reached out with the Force, felt past Corran’s hand, past the wall, to the machinery beyond. A weight suspended from a metal cable; a hole in the center of the weight; a crossbar that passed through the hole. Delicately, he drew the crossbar out of the hole and pulled down on the weight.

A section of the wall rose smoothly into the ceiling. Light spilled out into the corridor. Beyond the wall section was a medium-sized chamber, tables laden with lit computer screens, wall lockers, four cots. They entered and Luke released his hold on the weight; the wall section slid smoothly into place behind them.

“How do you do it?” Luke asked. One of Corran’s few weaknesses as a Jedi was his lack of ability with telekinetic disciplines; Corran couldn’t, under most circumstances, operate the crossbar and pull-weight machinery.

“A backup system. Say Halcyon Endures. That’ll trigger the door. It uses battery power, though. I have a hand-crank device to keep the battery charged.” Corran shrugged. He sat at a chair in front of one of the computer tables and gestured at the items in front of the other chair—the housing and power supply for Luke’s lightsaber.

“So,” Luke said again. He sat, brought his false glow rod from his bag, and got to work reassembling his weapon.

“So you know my position. You accept the role and duties of a Jedi, you put the order, and the general good, ahead of planetary interests. Even family interests. Doesn’t mean you cut yourself off from your family or world…just that you recognize that putting personal interests above the greater good basically constitutes maintaining attachments.”

Luke slid the main lightsaber machinery out of the glow rod housing and set the housing, and the feeble battery that belonged to it, aside. In moments, he had his lightsaber reassembled. He turned it on experimentally, felt the heat from its green blade, and turned it off again. “What about the younger Jedi here?”

“The ones who aren’t Corellian are fine. Standing by. The Corellians, on the other hand, are…distressed. Distressed at having to remain in hiding, distressed at the fact that the government is trying to recruit them for anti-GA activities, distressed at being considered potential spies and saboteurs. But they’re holding to the Jedi bylaws.”

“For now.”

“For now. Let me ask you a favor. Transfer them out of Corellia. Get them out of this environment. Let them do their duty to the order without having to choose between the order and their homes, their families.”

Luke nodded, not an answer but simply an acknowledgment that he’d heard Corran’s words and recognized their gravity. “And the children?”

“I…don’t know.” Corran’s face was impassive, but his voice sounded pained. “Taking them offworld would put them even farther from their families. Leaving them here would keep them in a potential danger zone, keep them looking between teachers and family members who represent divided loyalties. What’s the right answer?”

Luke held out his hands, palms up, a your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine gesture. “I think I’ll arrange to get them offworld. Continue their education someplace more neutral. Minimizing