Loden reached into the machine and withdrew a metal tube about a meter and a half in length, with a sort of wire basket on one end containing a compact power module. Wires stretched and pulled as he lifted the assembly out, electronics connected to a flat metal panel dangling below the tube as he freed it from the Vanguard.

Bell watched as his master quickly wove the wires into a sort of strap and slung the whole thing over a shoulder. The tube’s ends protruded beyond his back at shoulder and hip.

“Oof,” Loden said. “Heavy.”

He looked at Bell, and noticed his Padawan’s questioning look.

“Just in case,” Loden said, and grinned.

Porter returned from the corral, holding the reins of the three silver-sided steelees, now saddled and ready.

“Connect with your mount as best as you can. These are good beasts, but we’ll be pushing them hard. You’ll need to explain to them how important all of this is.”

Bell wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but he assumed he’d either figure it out or be thrown from the steelee and left behind.

He put his foot in a stirrup and pulled himself atop his mount—not as smoothly as he might have liked, but the important thing was that he was aboard. The steelee whickered, sidestepping and shaking its head. It stamped a hoof, marking its irritation at having an obviously inexperienced rider, and sparks flew from where the metal hit stone.

“Which direction, Bell?” Loden said, already in his own saddle.

Bell reached out, looking for fear, pain, anger…and found it. Not as far away as he might have thought, either. They had a chance.

“That way,” he said, pointing.

They went.

Chapter Twenty-six

“I’m uncomfortable with this, Master,” Burryaga said. “We were just doing our job.”

He spoke in Shyriiwook, and as far as he knew, the only person within a parsec who could understand him was his master, the Jedi Knight Nib Assek, standing at his side. But he didn’t want anyone to think he was complaining, or didn’t want to be there; this was a solemn occasion. They were both in their Temple attire to mark the moment. For him, that was just a sleeveless, layered tabard with an azure sash, but Nib was in the full white and gold, her long, gray hair tucked up in a bun, her boots and her lightsaber hilt both polished to a highly reflective shine.

“This isn’t for us, Padawan,” Nib said. “We’re here to give these people some closure, some peace. They wanted to meet us. Come on. It won’t be so bad.”