He decided to take the opportunity to escape, and headed for the refreshment tables. He was starving—which wasn’t unusual. His fur was light in color, mostly golden, with streaks here and there of the darker mahogany. He was in his prime growing years. He ate every chance he got.

The refreshment tables were full—the Panacea’s droids had made sure of that—but a glance told him it was all cheeses, breads, fruit, fresh-cut vegetables, spreads and dips and sweets…not a bit of meat. Wookiees could eat almost anything, but at that moment, Burryaga felt he needed fortification beyond what mere carrotins and pipfruit could provide.

Still, food was food. He took what was offered, filling a plate and beginning to graze. If nothing else, a full mouth might mean no one would engage him in conversation.

Munching away on a bright-green fruit he’d never had before, actually quite good, Burryaga cast his eyes across the room, this strange reception held amid a sort of illusory meadow floating in the middle of deep space. Little knots of people—Nib Assek in animated conversation with a family, Joss in the middle of a story to another group, who were smiling. Pikka holding a woman’s hand, listening earnestly to whatever she said.

Burryaga spared a thought for the two other Jedi who had been involved with rescuing these people—Masters Te’Ami and Sutmani. How had they managed to escape this assignment? His mood souring, he ate the core of the fruit, seeds and all, crunching it into nothing and swallowing.

He turned back to the plates of food, thinking he might try one of the cheeses next, when someone caught his eye. There, off to the side, standing at the very edge of the white floor, staring out at the swirls of blue and green on the viewdeck’s dome, a human boy, red-haired, speaking to no one. One of the therapy droids stood not far away, its broad, cheerful face slowly cycling through a range of warm, pleasant pastels as it spoke to the child. Burryaga wasn’t always expert at estimating ages of other species, but he thought the boy was ten years along, maybe a little older.

He wasn’t answering the therapy droid, despite the best efforts of the helpful little machine. Just staring, thinking whatever thoughts occupied his mind.

Burryaga set his plate down and walked in that direction, reaching out with the Force as he did. He sensed an immense sadness coming from the boy, mixed with…guilt. Guilt for something monstrous and immense, nothing someone of his age should ever have any reason to feel.

He walked up to the boy. The child’s eyes were hollow, just pits in his face.

“I’m Burryaga,” he said, touching his chest, even though he knew the boy couldn’t understand. He pointed at the child. “What’s your name?”