“They may decide what we accomplished here is worth pardoning us,” said Master Cohmac. “If they don’t, we’ll not only be disciplined, but perhaps even thrown out of the Order completely.”

Reath blanched. Would his first mission as an independent Jedi be his last?

Then Orla laughed. “Cohmac, take it easy on him, all right? Reath doesn’t have the experience to know the difference between what could happen and what’s likely to.” She turned to Reath and said, “Yes, we’re in trouble. But I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Orla was seriously underestimating Reath’s deep, long-standing relationship with worry. He pulled his blanket firmly up to his shoulders and began mentally composing his own defense.

The Vessel’s return to Coruscant ought to have been a relief. They were safe again, unlikely to encounter the Drengir for a long time to come. The Nihil—well, they were still out there, but at least Affie wouldn’t have to deal with them for a while.

Yet she felt numb. Directionless.

As she trudged through the tasks associated with docking—lubing up the landing-gear joints, putting in Guild bank codes for refueling—she kept thinking about the Amaxine station.

Scover couldn’t use it for its original purposes anymore. The Jedi had seen to that by making the station known. Undoubtedly some entrepreneurial species or group would take it over and turn it into a standard commercial stop. No more desperate, indentured smugglers would be able to make illegal use of it. Scover’s insidious “bonuses” would vanish. Nobody else had to die the way Affie’s parents had.

Yet Scover would keep on using indentured pilots. The Amaxine station was far from the only hazardous place in the galaxy. She would keep coercing those pilots under her control to undertake dangerous missions. It would still be the one possibility to pay out of an indenture before old age.

I thought this would teach her something, Affie decided. It wouldn’t have. It would’ve showed her how angry I am, that’s all.

She went to Scover’s hotel that night and endured the inevitable scolding.

“Running off like that was very worrying,” Scover said over a luxurious dinner on the spacious balcony overlooking the Coruscant city lights. Her even tone suggested no worry at all—but that was how Bivalls were. How Scover was. So Affie had always told herself; she still mostly believed it. “I realized you had to be on the Vessel, but I hadn’t thought you would leave without telling me goodbye.”

“The Jedi wanted to go back in a hurry, and in secret.” This was true, if not the whole truth.

“And the customer is always right.” Scover nodded. “It’s good that you have learned to prioritize pleasing our clients. Profit cannot be maintained otherwise.”

Affie couldn’t resist saying, “There are more important things than profit.”

“Yes,” Scover said, “but not many things.”