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“Especially when you don’t trust everyone on your ship.”

Anakin’s eyebrows dropped. “Okay, now you’re being dumb. You know I trust you.”

“Really? I almost killed you back on Yavin Four, you know.”

“I know. And I know that wasn’t really you.”

“No?” Tahiri’s face went curiously blank. “I’m not sure. Sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Anakin put his hand on her shoulder. “I do,” he said. “You aren’t the same as you were before the Yuuzhan Vong captured you. Neither am I. But you’re still Tahiri.”

“Whatever that means.”

“If you want to go with us, I’ll talk to Corran. I honestly didn’t think you would want to get out so early.”

Tahiri shook her head emphatically. “I’ve spent enough time crying and curled up in a ball. You think you’re the only one the walls are closing in on? Whoever I am, I’m not going to figure it out moping around here.” Her voice took on a softer, pleading note. “Let me go with you, Anakin.”

He mussed her hair, the way he had done a hundred times. It suddenly seemed too familiar, and he felt his face warm. “Okay,” he said. “Next time, just ask, though. You don’t always have to come after me like I’ve done something wrong. We don’t have to fight everything out.”

She smiled. “Sorry. You never mean to do anything wrong. But most times it just turns out that way.”

SEVEN

R2-D2 tootled and bleeped as he went about the task Jacen had assigned him. The little droid had extended his linkage and repair arms into one of the compact missiles floating near the narrow trash-exhaust tube. In the faint light of the glow stick, the squat, domed cylinder of the little droid looked very much the antique he was.

A clumsy clank sounded behind Jacen as C-3PO struggled with weightlessness.

“Oh dear,” C-3PO said excitedly. “I wasn’t built for this, you know. Zero gravity confuses my circuits.”

“Just hang on to something,” Jacen muttered. “When Dad gets the power back on, we’ll have gravity again. Just make sure you’re on the floor and not the ceiling when that happens.”

“Good heavens. Who can tell the difference? I’m going to need a good overhaul when this is all over. This will be all over soon, won’t it, Master Jacen?”

“One way or the other.”

“I almost wish you had left me deactivated.”

“Just be thankful you’ve got good surge overload circuits, or you might have been deactivated permanently.” He closed the panel on the final missile. “Well, that will either work or it won’t,” he said philosophically.

“I don’t understand,” C-3PO said. “What will work or won’t?”

R2-D2 whistled something vaguely condescending and derisive.

“Well, of course I shouldn’t be expected to understand, you little trash sweeper,” C-3PO retorted indignantly. “I’m a protocol droid, not a metal-grubbing screw turner. Oh! No offense to you, Master Jacen.”

“None taken. I wish someone a little better at this than I were here—Anakin, for instance. If I’ve made a mistake, I may well blow us out of the sky.”

“Oh, no!”

“Okay, time for your part, Threepio. I need you to cycle this lock manually.”

“But, Master Jacen, all of the air will evacuate.”

“True. But I won’t be here—I’ll be on the other side of the outer pressure lock. The vacuum won’t hurt you.”

“I suppose not. But why, Master Jacen?”

“I need you to take each of these missiles to the end of the dump vent and give them a good shove in the direction of that Yuuzhan Vong interdictor.”

“Me, handle a concussion missile?”

“If it’s any comfort, if it exploded it wouldn’t make any difference to you if you were holding it or a meter away, like you are now. There still wouldn’t be enough of you left to plate a spoon with.”

“But—but—what if I fall out of the ship?”

Jacen smiled thinly. “Don’t,” he said. “Once all the missiles are away, you and Artoo seal the vent up, cycle the lock again, and get back inside. I’ll keep in touch by comm.”

“Master Jacen, I am a protocol droid!”

“And I would rather be meditating. C’mon, Threepio. You’ve done more dangerous things than this before.”

“Not willingly, Master Jacen!”

Jacen slapped