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“ ‘She?’ ” Mara said.

Luke looked at her. “Obi-Wan’s words, not mine.”

The stars around Zonama Sekot’s circumference appeared to withdraw, then rebound. An enduring melancholy settled over Luke like a shroud, and he experienced a sudden and profound void in the Force. A wail from Ben brought him back to himself. The child was struggling in Mara’s arms, stretching out toward the viewport, as if to reach for the vanishing planet itself.

“Don’t cry, sweetie,” Mara comforted him. “We’ll visit someday.”

Luke stroked his son’s head and glanced at Mara. “He’s meant to be there.”

One of a handful of worlds along the Rimward edge of the invasion corridor to have survived attack or occupation, the Wookiee homeworld of Kashyyyk looked even more lush now than it had before the war began. Many of its tall, furred denizens had served in the war as soldiers, technicians, and couriers, but most had returned to their festive planet, and had been rejoicing almost continuously since Zonama Sekot had carried the frightful enemy from known space.

Millennium Falcon and Jade Shadow had arrived only the previous day and sat side by side on landing platform Thiss, the fire-blackened stump of an enormous wroshyr tree, close to the village of Rwookrrorro. Having passed the night in the treetop community, the Solos and the Skywalkers, along with their faithful droids, had trekked to the massive fallen branch where a memorial for Chewbacca had been held several years earlier, though not to the day. Accompanying them were many of the Wookiees who had attended the somber remembrance, including Chewie’s father, Attichitcuk; his sister, auburn-furred Kallabow; his widow, Mallatobuck, and their son, Waroo; Ralrra, who could speak Basic; and Dewlan-namapia, Gorrlyn, Jowdrrl, and Dryanta.

As on that day, fog swirled in the upper branches of the giant trees, and a cool wind stirred the leaves and kshyy vines. In homage to the late Chewbacca, a celebrated Wookiee artisan had carved a portrait of Chewie into the trunk of one of the trees that supported the fallen branch. Han stood before the likeness, speaking as if directly to his former first mate and closest friend.

“You can relax now, pal,” he was saying. “It’s finally over. We fought the good fight and won, and, for me anyway, it was you who set the tone. Your sacrifice at Sernpidal was symbolic of the whole war, with millions giving their lives to save family, friends, people they didn’t know, members of species they’d never seen before, even droids. Thank you, for that, Chewie, and for giving Anakin the extra time he needed to fulfill his own destiny. I’ll never forget you.”

Tears running down his cheeks, he turned to Luke, who had brought something that had been discovered by a demolition crew near the remains of the Citadel, on Coruscant.

It was Anakin’s lightsaber, which Tahiri had dropped while helping carry Luke to the Falcon. Han and Leia hadn’t planned to leave the lightsaber with Chewie, until the moment when the Falcon had put down on Thiss.

Hefting the hilt, Han looked at gray-muzzled Ralrra. “You sure the branch won’t mind.”

Aged Ralrra shook his head. [It won’t.]

Han got a two-handed grip on the handle, as one might a staff, so that the blade would point straight down. Activating it, he raised it over his head, then drove it down, almost vertically into the flattened area of the fallen limb. The tip of the energy blade struck the hardwood and began to burn through, producing a rich, fragrant smoke. And when it had burned a hole deep enough to bury four or so centimeters of the pommel itself, Han switched it off, so that the handle stuck fast in the limb.

Luke stepped forward. “Should the need ever arise, it can be withdrawn by someone as virtuous as yourself, Chewbacca.”

One by one the rest of them advanced to cover the area with leaves and vines, then they all returned to Rwookrrorro and spent the rest of the day indulging in the feast of food and drink the Wookiees had