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There was another silence—not one that was particularly comfortable to Jos. Then Erel Kersos looked him square in the eyes and made it worse. He said, “Jos, you need to think about all this, very seriously.”

Jos blinked. Was the old man a mind reader? Didn’t they have enough of them here already?

“I found out you were on this world before I applied for this duty. I… inquired about you. I know why you are willing to talk to me. I know about you and the Lorrdian nurse.”

Jos felt his temper rise abruptly. Kersos must have sensed it; he shook his head. “Don’t blow a major vessel, son. I’m not telling you what you should or should not do. I’m only offering my experience. When I elected to marry Feleema, I never looked back. I was young, brave, and she was, in my mind, worth all of my disapproving family put together. I had her—I didn’t need them.

“Then, suddenly I didn’t have her—and I didn’t have them, either.” He paused. “Family is sometimes more important than we think. Especially when they are still there, but denied to you. Things happen. People change, they separate, for all kinds of reasons. And they die. The woman you love today might turn into somebody you can’t stand five or ten or fifteen years from now. Or she might not be here at all. There are no guarantees.”

Jos nodded. “I know. Just tell me this: if you had it to do over again, knowing what you know now—would you do the same thing?”

His great-uncle smiled, and it was not a happy expression. “I’m not you, Jos. My mistakes were mine—yours will be your own.”

“Not a responsive answer.”

The older man shrugged. “Maybe not. But it’s true.” He paused. “There are times when there is no question in my mind—yes, I’d have done it exactly the same. Six years with Feleema was better than six hundred years of my family.

“But there have been other times when I wonder: what would it have been like, to see my brother’s or sister’s children grow up? The nephews and nieces I never met, never saw, never even knew were born? I couldn’t go home for my father’s funeral. My mother is still alive— I’ve kept track through the census data banks—but I am dead to her. The choice I made was simple—as simple as it was irrevocable. But it wasn’t easy. And it never got any easier. There’s an old saying, Jos, maybe you’ve heard it: there’s no easy way to shave a Wookiee.”

Jos sighed. Just what he needed to hear.

9

After Jos had left the table, the remaining players discussed the new commanding officer, Erel Kersos, for a few minutes. “I hear he’s much more hands-on than Admiral Bleyd was,” Barriss said.

“A Bespin cloud creature is more hands-on than that brain case was,” Den said. “They never did find his assassin, you know. There’s a thought to keep you nice and cozy at night.”

The CardShark began to deal cards again. Den held up a hand. “We’re done. Just finishing our drinks.”

The casino droid paid no attention. “Dantooine double-hand,” it said. “Place your bets, pplleeeaaass—”

The CardShark’s voice suddenly droned off as its arms drooped. It slowly spiraled to a resting place on a nearby empty table. The players looked at each other in puzzlement. Then, as one, they turned to look at I-Five.

“What did you do?” Barriss demanded.

If droids could shrug, I-Five would have done so. “I shut it down. It was hardly the most sparkling of conversationalists.”

“You weren’t anywhere near it,” Den said.

“True. It wasn’t necessary. I simply aimed a microwave beam at one of its EM receptors and overloaded a capacitor. I knew it would go into emergency shutdown mode.”

“Maybe trying to get you drunk isn’t such a good idea,” Den mused. “You’re dangerous enough as it is.”

The other three looked at the Sullustan and the droid skeptically. “Why would you want to get a droid drunk?” the Padawan asked.

“Not just any droid.” Den stood and threw an arm around I-Five’s shoulders, an accomplishment made possible only by the fact that the droid remained seated. “I-Five needs to let his dewflaps dangle a little.”

“Thanks for that,” I-Five said. “It’s a thoughtful gesture, but I think