“Our pilots’ lives are more important,” Affie said. After a pause she added, “Don’t you agree?”

Scover seemed unbothered. “That is a determination the pilots must make for themselves. We all balance risk and reward, Affie.”

“People don’t usually risk their lives for rewards. They usually risk them to escape something terrible.”

“Plenty of people risk their lives for rewards.” Scover continued sampling the Chandrilan delicacies heaped on their dining table. “Racer pilots, for instance. Mmmm, have some of the baha. I remember that you loved it.”

Affie obediently took a dish of the baha. But even its cool sweetness couldn’t penetrate the fog of depression. She might as well have been eating plain crushed ice.

“There, now.” The small smile on Scover’s face widened just a little. “You appreciate good things, Affie. You must appreciate that you receive these things because of the Byne Guild’s prosperity. Someday, two or three decades from now, I will retire, and all this will become yours. But I must know I’d be leaving my Guild in the right hands. You understand it all now, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Affie said. “I understand it all.”

That night, Affie considered returning to the Vessel to sleep. But the view from the balcony soothed her—the constant low hum of activity turning into white noise, tranquil in its way. She needed soothing. Her brain was racing.

Long after Scover had gone to bed, Affie sat up late, her brown hair ruffled by the breezes. She looked up at Coruscant’s strange, starless sky and wondered whether she could keep silent. If she did, Scover would continue to give her more and more authority within the Guild. Affie might gain the ability to free indentures earlier, at far lower prices. When Scover died or retired, Affie would inherit it all—wealth and power almost beyond imagining, if their Republic expansion plans came to fruition. Then she could end indentures in the Guild and protect everyone.

When that day came, years and years later. Decades. The better part of a human lifetime.

Yes, Affie could wait. But the indentured pilots couldn’t.

Reath stood at the center of the Jedi Council among his friends.

On one hand, it was amazing to realize that these full, adult Jedi Masters—Cohmac Vitus and Orla Jareni—considered him friends. To reflect that they looked on him as more than an apprentice, more of a partner in their endeavors.

On the other hand, he was uncomfortably aware that this friendship might have to continue outside the Jedi Order. They had all either ignored or directly defied the commands they’d been given (except for Dez, of course, who was finally resting well among the Temple’s medics).

For the time being, all he could do was stand at his full height, express deference to the Council, and hope for the best.