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Ben didn’t need to ask anything more. The rest of the story was clear to him. Faskus has gotten his daughter clear of the transport, but some calamity, an explosion perhaps, had sent a shard of durasteel into his guts.

And killed him. Slowly.

“Please.” His voice was weak, wavering. “Untie my hands. So I can hold her.”

Ben thought it over, then nodded. Using Faskus’s own vibroblade, he cut the bonds on the man’s hands.

Then, while Kiara sobbed and Faskus spoke soothingly to her, in ever-quieter tones, Ben began to break down the man’s camp and inventory his goods.

And to think.

I have the amulet and it can’t be used against me. This stage of his mission was accomplished; Ben could check it off his list. Now he needed to find a way to get offplanet, or at least to send a signal to Jacen.

If Faskus, or whatever his real name might be, didn’t steal the amulet, who did? Dyur, whoever he was. And Dyur had framed Faskus by leaving the note behind. But why would Dyur give Faskus the real amulet to bury in a cave? This had to be the real thing; up close, it reeked of dark side energy and the creepy happiness that had allowed Ben to follow it. Something did not add up.

Ben counted six oversized blankets, one of them slightly damaged by his lightsaber; several wooden poles being used as tent poles; four durasteel spikes anchoring the tent to the ground; three blasters and a vibroblade, each one with extra power packs; food rations, possibly as much as a week’s worth; a quantity of cord; the backpack; the contents of Faskus’s pouch, including a datapad, numerous credcoins, credcards, data cards, and identicards; and the man’s clothes, if he wanted them. But he didn’t. He carefully broke down the tent, exposing the girl and her father to the first snowfall of the day, and folded all the blankets except the ones constituting the floor, on which Faskus and Kiara still lay. Faskus’s eyes were still open, but he no longer spoke, and Ben could not feel him through the Force.

The astromech came waddling down from its position of concealment as Ben began dividing all his new goods between his own pack and the larger backpack Faskus had made. “Good news, Shaker,” Ben said. “Several power packs. If you have adapters, we can keep you going for a long time.”

But Shaker’s response didn’t sound happy. The droid kept its optics trained on Kiara and Faskus, trilling a discordant note.

“Yeah,” Ben said. “It’s sad.”

Even sadder was what he’d have to do in a minute. But his duty was clear. He had to get the amulet to Jacen. And that meant not taking chances with his resources.

He thought about asking Kiara to move so he could claim the final two blankets, but decided that such a request was unnecessary. Four blankets would be enough for just him.

He spent a few minutes using more cord to tie the big backpack to Shaker’s dome, and then he began walking.

He didn’t hear Shaker following. He turned to see the R2 still in place. Its optic sensor glided back and forth, staring first at him, then at Kiara. “C’mon, Shaker.”

The astromech began waddling in his direction. Ben imagined that he could sense reluctance in its pace, but he pushed the thought away. Shaker had never met these people before, and therefore it could not care about them.

“Hey!” Kiara sat up. Snow was accumulating in her hair, and tears were freezing to her cheeks. “You can’t go. Daddy said you were going to take care of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “But I didn’t say I would.”

“You can’t leave him! The animals will eat him!”

“I’m sorry.”

Turning his back on the girl a second time took an act of will, but recognition of his duty gave him the strength to do it. He began walking again, slowly, and Shaker followed.

The droid trilled, a long and complicated communication. Ben opened his datapad, and it had received Shaker’s message:

WHAT IS OUR DESTINATION?

“I had a look at Faskus’s datapad.” Ben tapped his pouch to reassure himself that the ’pad was still