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His visitor spread long, smooth hands. “An excellent thought.” He hurried out.

And what eerie timing, Jacen reflected. If his guest’s theology had anything to do with reality, then the Force not only refused to be abandoned, but something or someone was taking a firm hand in showing Jacen the next logical step.

“Thank you,” Jacen mouthed the words silently.

Luke swiped his ID past a reader at the hoverbike stall just outside the hostel, rented two units, and straddled one. Driving conservatively, he and Anakin stepped off at Duggan Station ten minutes later. For the moment, people ignored them. Workers of several species, followed by droids in all states of repair, crowded the dock area and its rideways.

So many worlds were endangered. He had just a few months to find a safe place for one small child—and, wishfully thinking, her mother. He knew better than to go beyond wishing to hoping, though. Mara wouldn’t take their child into danger, but she wouldn’t avoid an enemy that must be fought, especially now that she’d seen the enemy’s face.

He strode beside Anakin. Tresina had come back here once, after Thrynni vanished. By then, their contact had vanished, too. As Luke and Anakin approached the area R2-D2 had targeted, Luke noticed less foot traffic. A few heavy loaders passed by, motors laboring, cargo-bay doors shut.

Around the second bend in this corridor, his danger sense started its odd, subtle vibration at the back of his mind. Just ahead, a chest-high barricade blocked the corridor. Patrolling the narrow gap, three hulking Gamorreans and a Rodian stood in CorDuro-brown flight suits. The Gamorreans’ uniforms bulged on them like overloaded shipping sacks. The Rodian’s looked half-empty.

Five, R2-D2 had told him. The security team’s supervisor was keeping out of sight.

Softly, Luke reminded Anakin, “Don’t antagonize. But cover me.” Then he picked up his pace, to arrive several meters ahead of his apprentice.

The Rodian moved forward—a thin one, who looked as if he’d always been ill. “Restricted area,” he wheezed. “Unless you got authorization, this isn’t your street.”

Luke reached into a breast pocket. Simultaneously, he stretched out with the Force, gently brushing up against the guard’s memory. “I’m looking for a missing person. My group on Coruscant would appreciate your help.” He handed the guard a small holocube.

It was too easy, really. Like Gamorreans, Rodians were notoriously weak minded, their reactions simple and violent. As the guard clenched the cube, the image of the Jedi apprentice’s bloodied body, dumped out a side airlock, hit Luke like a blast of pain. From her wounds, he knew her death hadn’t come easily.

May the Force be with you, Thrynni Vae! He struggled momentarily to regain his own balance. In reviving the Jedi, he’d put out the call that Thrynni followed—to die for someone else’s freedom.

He didn’t look forward to telling Tresina Lobi.

He made himself concentrate on the refugee crisis, and the possibility of imminent attack. “Thank you for helping. I’m sure you’d like me to leave, now.” Luke backstepped, then started to walk away.

Anakin hung back about four meters, balancing his weight on both feet, keeping his hands loose at his sides. A good covering stance, if a little obvious.

“Just a minute,” a deep voice gargled behind Luke.

Luke turned slowly.

The security team’s fifth member had arrived: a male Duros, unusually tall, dressed in red-trimmed brown coveralls with the triangular CorDuro Shipping insignia on his right breast. Luke heard more foot-shuffling behind his back—even behind Anakin, judging from faint echoes. Several more minds suddenly nudged his awareness.

Luke kept his hands limp at his sides, but he reached out in all directions, getting a grip on the Force between himself, the deck, the bulkheads—and the CorDuro employees. Ten of them, now. He took a split instant to make sure none of them was a masqued Yuuzhan Vong.

Then he made the slightest bow to the