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“He didn’t answer when I comlinked half an hour ago. Brarun’s people might’ve taken it away.”

And he wasn’t going to intrude on Jacen’s emotions from the distance? Mara nodded. All along, she’d advised Luke to use the Force cautiously. She’d never dreamed Jacen would take it this far.

Again, they rode hoverbikes. Luke rented one with a sidecar. He helped R2-D2 wriggle into place before he climbed aboard.

Mara rented a second bike, a two-seater with room to carry Jacen. “Ready,” she said, settling on the narrow forward saddle.

She stayed half a length behind Luke, slightly to his right, flowing with inward traffic on the avenue.

Under a bank of lights so high overhead that the illusion of daylight almost convinced Mara, Bburru’s central plaza was dominated by four tall housing stacks. The buildings rose as high as the diagonal braces, set up at midplaza like four long spokes of a wheel. A green park surrounded them. Along one building, a crowd had formed around a platform that was considerably taller than the one Mara saw at Port Duggan. From several directions, Duros were hurrying in on foot and by hoverbike.

Luke swooped toward a parking stall near a pair of trees that drooped from their weight of dangling moss and vines. Mara left him to scout the situation and found another stall some distance away.

She hoped her guesses were wrong. If the Yuuzhan Vong struck here, these Duros were probably just as dead as the refugees.

Luke strolled to meet her. The wind had disheveled his hair and put color in his cheeks. She liked the effect, and she let her stare linger just long enough to make sure he got the message. An answering warmth blossomed up from the Luke-place at the back of her mind.

“Jacen’s up there, I take it?” She turned and eyed the building nearest the demonstrators. Obviously, their show was for his benefit.

Now she recognized the Duros onstage: Brarun’s sister, Ducilla. “One, alone, is strength. One, alone, is unity.” Her voice, clearly audible as they walked out onto the plaza, fell silent. Duros backed out of Luke and Mara’s way, nodding their long heads and creating a path. Mara knew full well that she and Luke were letting themselves be surrounded, but she didn’t sense danger yet.

They approached the chest-high platform. Two larger, heavier Duros stood behind Ducilla, sporting brand-new Merr-Sonn blasters.

No wonder Duros were backing away from her. Amused, Mara kept several paces’ distance from Luke. They might both need room to swing lightsabers.

Close by, Duros made shushing noises as Luke stepped into an open space below the platform.

“An individual, alone, can be strong,” he called back, and Mara was surprised by how well his voice carried. Ducilla must’ve set up a transmission field so she could work the crowd. “But how much stronger are two,” Luke asked, “who can watch out for each other?”

Ducilla’s lipless smile broadened. “The Jedi,” she said, mocking him with a singsong. “The ultimate disciples of interdependence. You are weak because of your diversity. You pull in too many directions.”

Mara would’ve challenged that statement, but Luke used it as a launch point. “There are people all over the New Republic, diverse people, who desperately need help. Won’t you set aside your frustrations for a little while, and lend a hand to people weaker than yourself?”

Behind Mara, there was a chorus of shouts. “SELCORE had no business—”

“Refugees in our system make us bait for a Yuuzhan Vong strike—”

“If you’ve come to Duro hoping to bring us back in line,” Ducilla said, spreading her hands, “I think you can see you made a mistake.”

“No mistake,” Luke insisted. “SELCORE has offered your home planet back, in exchange for your help shuttling goods down to its surface … for which your brother’s shipping concern is being well compensated.”

Her gray cheeks flushed darker.

Luke went on. “SELCORE is too thinly spread to set up its own shuttle ships. It’s easier to bring in big freighters, and count on your distribution network—”

The Duros whistled him down.

Mara glanced