If only she could’ve contacted Scover directly! But Scover often kept quiet about which ships she was traveling on when, and preferred to keep it that way. Affie knew to respect her mother’s discretion, even when it kept her in such wretched suspense.

Leox took a seat beside her as she stopped scrolling through and pointed at the screen. “Look at this,” she said. “There’s three Guild ships here, so they made it out of hyperspace okay—”

“And there’s the Rushlight Equinox.” Leox laughed and clapped his hands with real enthusiasm. “Can’t wait to talk to Vishla about whatever her crew got up to while hyperspace was down, though I doubt they’ve got any stories that compare to ours.”

“I hope not,” Affie said. “Someone got killed.”

“Makes it a tragic mission, I admit, but there is a certain anecdotal value.”

Affie would’ve scolded him if she hadn’t known Leox actually did care about what had happened to Dez. Besides, Geode was already giving him the death glare. No point in piling on.

Plus she still had so much information to scroll through. So many ships. So many courses registered. Coruscant was one of the few places the Guild’s ships could’ve sought safe refuge from the disaster—assuming they’d made it through. Nowhere could she find the mother ship of the Guild.

“Look at this,” Leox finally said, focusing the screen on one particular packet of data. “Three more Byne Guild ships cleared dock here yesterday.”

“But not Scover’s.”

“You’re not looking hard enough. See here?” His jeweled ring sparkled as he tapped the screen. The words there read: Rerouted, Sealed Under Express Guild Authority.

Only one person had the right to designate something as “Express Guild Authority,” and that was Scover Byne herself.

“She’s here on Coruscant.” Affie started to grin, then to laugh, even though tears were welling in her eyes. “Scover made it.”

“Told ya,” Leox said, hugging her around the shoulders. She was pretty sure he’d told her no such thing, but who cared? Her mother was alive.

The hyperspace disaster had called on all Jedi in one way or another; everyone was involved with rescue, resolution, or analysis. With all the busy activity on every level of the Temple, getting a corridor closed was—as Orla’s créche-minder used to say—a job of work. However, nothing cleared people out of the way faster than announcing, “Dark side coming through!”

Not that she actually yelled that out loud. She wanted to. But the bare facts had been enough to get the Jedi Council to clear the area fast, which meant she had no excuse, and nothing to distract her from the eerie task ahead.