The Drunk Dancer tore through mottled hyperspace, leaving desolate Jaguada light-years behind. Skeck had sustained a nasty blaster burn to his right arm during the troopers’ attempt to disable the drop ship, but no one else had been hurt. Emerging from the facility moments before Filli’s time delay initiated the power generator, Shryne and the others had raced up valley to the landing platform and had arrived in time to catch a squad of Imperials in a crossfire.

Sealed inside the facility, the remaining squads were up to their T-visors in reactivated battle droids.

After Skeck’s wound had been bandaged, Shryne had retired to the dormitory cabin space Jula had provided for the Jedi. He had always had a fondness for hyperspace travel—more, the sense of being outside time—and was kneeling in meditation when he sensed Starstone approaching the cabin. Simultaneous with her excited entry he rose to his feet, eyes on the sheaf of flimsiplast printouts she was holding.

“We have data on hundreds of Jedi,” she said, rattling the printouts. “We know where more than seventy Masters were at the end of the war—when the clone commanders received their orders.”

Accepting the proffered flimsies, Shryne thumbed through them, then glanced at Starstone. “How many of these hundreds do you think might actually have survived the attacks?”

She gave her head a quick shake. “I’m not even going to try to guess. We can begin our search with systems closest to Mossak, and fan out from there toward Mygeeto, Saleucami, and Kashyyyk.”

Shryne shook the flimsies. “Has it occurred to you that if we have this information, then so does the Empire? What do you think our adversaries were doing in the Temple beacon room, playing hide-and-seek?”

Starstone winced at the harshness of his tone, but only briefly. “Has it occurred to you that our adversaries, as you call them, were there precisely because a good many Jedi survived? It’s crucial that we reach those survivors before they’re hunted down. Or are you proposing that we leave them to the Empire—to Vader and his stormtroopers?”

Shryne made a start at replying, then bit back his words and motioned to the edge of the nearest cot. “Sit down, and try for a moment to stop thinking like a HoloNet hero.”

When Starstone ultimately lowered herself to the cot, Shryne sat opposite her.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” he began. “Your goal couldn’t be more noble. And for all I know there are five hundred Jedi scattered throughout the Rim in need of rescue. My point is, I don’t want to see your name added to the casualty list. What happened at Jaguada is only a foretaste of what’s in store for us if we continue to band together.”

“I—”

Shryne stopped her before she could go on. “Think about the final beacon message we received at Murkhana. The message didn’t tell us to gather together and coordinate a strike on Coruscant, or on Palpatine, or even on the troopers. It instructed us, each of us who received it, to hide. Yoda or whoever ordered the transmission knew that the Jedi were in a fight we couldn’t win. The message was a way of saying just that—that the order is over and done with. That the Jedi are finished.”

He hid his ruefulness. “Does that mean that you have to stop honoring the Force? Of course not. All of us will live out our lives honoring the Force. But not with lightsabers in hand, Olee. With right action, and right thinking.”

“I’d rather die honoring the Force with my lightsaber,” she said.

He had expected as much. “How is dying honoring the Force, when you could be out doing good works, passing on to others all that you’ve learned about the Force?”

“Is that what you plan to do—devote yourself to good works?”

Shryne smiled. “Right now I only know what I’m not going to do, and that’s help rush you into a grave on some remote world.” He held her gaze. “I’m sorry. But I’ve already lost two Padawans to this rotten war, and I don’t want to lose you to it.”

“Even though I’m not your learner?”

He nodded. “Even though.”

She sighed with purpose. “I appreciate your concern for me, Master—and I will call you that because right now you’re the only Master we have. But the Force tells me that we can make a difference, and I can’t turn my back on that. Master Chatak instilled in me every day that I should follow the Force’s lead, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

She adopted an even more serious look. “Jula believes that you can turn your back. The Force is with her, but she’s not a Jedi, Master. You can’t unlearn overnight the teachings and practices of decades. Even if you should succeed, you’ll regret it.”

Shryne firmed his lips and nodded again. “Then you and I will be parting ways at Mossak.”

Sadness pulled down the corners of her mouth. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way, Master.”

“That doesn’t begin to say how I feel about it.”

They stood, and he hugged her tenderly.

“You’ll tell the others?” he said while she was gathering up the flimsies.

“They already know.”

Shryne didn’t watch her leave. But no sooner did she exit the cabin than Jula entered.

“Jedi business?”

Shryne looked at her. “You can probably figure it out.”

Jula averted her gaze. “Olee’s a fine young woman—they’re all decent beings. But they’re deluded, Roan. It’s over. They have to realize that and get on with their lives. You told me that attachment is the root of many of our problems. Well, that includes being so attached to the Jedi order that you can’t leave it behind. If being a Jedi means being able to accept what has happened and move on, then they honor the order best by letting go.”

She looked at him now. “For some of them it’s all about the loss of prestige, and the power to decide what’s right or wrong. To believe that everything you do is motivated by the Force, and that you always have the Force on your side. But that’s not always the way it works. I’ve no love for the order, you know that. Sometimes the Jedi caused as many problems as they solved. Now, for whatever reason, whether it’s Palpatine or the fact that the Jedi couldn’t accept the idea of taking second place to the Republic—the Force isn’t necessarily your best ally.”

She reached for his hands. “They took you from me once, Roan. I won’t let you go a second time without a fight.” She laughed lightly. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, concludes my little speech.” Gazing at him, she said: “Join us.”

“In crime, you mean.”

A fire came into her eyes. “We’re not criminals. All right, we’ve done some questionable things, but so have you, and that was in the past. If you come aboard, I promise we’ll stick to taking contracts that will allow you to keep on doing good deeds, if that’s what it’s going to take.”

“Such as?” Shryne said.

“Well, we already happen to have a good deed on deck. A contract to transport a former Senator from the Core to his home system.”

Shryne allowed his skepticism to show. “Why would a former Senator have to be smuggled to his home system?”

“I don’t have all the details. But my guess? The Senator doesn’t share the ideals of the new regime.”

“Is this a Cash Garrulan contract?”

Jula nodded. “And maybe that’s another reason for you to say yes to accepting the offer. Because you owe him for arranging for your escape from Murkhana.”

Shryne pretended scorn. “I don’t owe Cash any favors.”

“Okay. Then you’ll do it to honor his memory.”

Shryne stared at her.

“Imperial troopers caught up with him soon after all of you left Murkhana. Cash is dead.”