“Of course not,” he said, maddeningly calm. “But you’ve got a core of durasteel. It takes more than that to knock you flat.”

The Kestrel’s Dive. Who would be writing about the Kestrel’s Dive? Affie kept turning that over in her head. She’d interpreted other symbols as ships’ names before, but she must’ve misunderstood something, because it had looked to her as if—as if the pilots were writing about their own ships. Which had to be impossible, because otherwise it meant that her parents had been there, on that very station. They wouldn’t plot against Scover. I know they wouldn’t. I hardly remember them, but I feel so sure—

“I’m not going anywhere,” Leox said.

“What if I don’t have a core of durasteel?” Anger blazed within Affie, white-hot, infusing her with renewed strength. “What if this is exactly enough to knock me flat? If I’m able to feel compassion for other people?”

Leox held up his hands. “I’m not saying—yeah, it’s a hell of a thing, losing Dez. But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

“No.” With that she turned and walked away.

Walking away from Leox, unfortunately, meant walking away from her cabin. It led toward the mess, though. If she grabbed a couple of nutrient bars, that might tide her over for a day or more. She could hide in her bunk, seeing no one, saying nothing. That sounded good.

Affie walked into the mess to find Geode. He had more sense than to interrogate her.

His silent sympathy broke through where no words ever could have. She leaned her head against Geode’s side and let the tears come. Patiently he waited with her as she cried, for a dozen reasons and none at all.

Reath waited until everyone else was preoccupied—by grief, duty, or whatever else—then assembled his equipment pack. He prepared as though for a mountain expedition, with cables and clamps, and double-checked his lightsaber. Nobody noticed him leave the Vessel and enter the station.

He had the space to himself, it seemed. After what happened to Dez, nobody from the other refugee ships had any interest in exploring further. The only sounds were the whirring and beeping of droids; the 8-Ts were placidly mulching, as though nothing had happened. To them, he supposed, nothing had.

Reath found the small planter he’d put down earlier and placed it back within his pocket. Then he eased his way into the tunnel, going step by step, mindful of his own slow, steady breathing. Body and spirit as one, whispered Master Jora’s voice in his memory.

His feet landed on the lower ring with a metallic thud. If anyone else were on the station, they’d have heard him for sure. Reath was grateful he could keep this secret for a while.