Bell thought that was good, perhaps. No one would mistake them for anything other than what they were. Sometimes just being a Jedi could solve problems. He knew he and Loden were an imposing pair, too—a human and a Twi’lek, both tall and dark-skinned, with lightsabers at their hips…their footsteps echoed with the full authority of the Jedi council.

Murmurs spread out from their passage like ripples on water, and the angry shouts and cries died down, until they walked through a silent crowd, all eyes on them. It seemed that Bell was not the only one who wanted to know what his master was planning.

Loden stepped up to the gates. He looked up, where two of the guards were stationed in battlements atop the wall on either side. This no longer looked like a home—it was more like a small fortress. Bell wondered what this family did, these Ranorakis, that would require them to hire such an extensive security staff. At least two dozen men and women stood guard up on the walls, and presumably more waited inside.

“Ho there, Master Jedi,” one of the guards said, his tone companionable enough. “Can’t let you in, either, sorry. Besides, looks like you have your own ship. Why don’t you two hop back in it and fly on back to the Core Worlds. This is private property.”

“I’m still outside the gate,” Loden said. “Surely whatever authority you have doesn’t extend beyond the walls?”

The guard lifted his weapon and let it rest on his shoulder. He spat, the bit of phlegm landing on the ground—outside the walls—with a wet splat.

“So you say,” he said.

“I was told you won’t let any of these people access that ship, despite the evacuation order issued by the planet’s leader?”

“That’s right.”

“But the vessel could hold most of them. Maybe all of them, if you got creative.”

“It’s not my job to let them board, Jedi. It’s my job to make sure they don’t.”

“Perhaps you should consider an early retirement,” Loden said.

As always, there was a smile in his voice, but Bell recognized the meaning of this particular flavor of smile, just as he’d known when his master was using the Jedi mind touch to calm the refugee woman. Bell moved part of his tunic to one side, exposing his holstered lightsaber hilt.

Without looking at him, Loden raised a hand toward Bell and tapped two fingers together, the first and second on his left hand—a prearranged signal. It meant one very simple thing: No. Don’t.

Bell forced himself to relax.

The guard captain seemed utterly unconcerned. Even a little amused.

“What do you think you’re going to do, Jedi? Cut right through the walls with your lightsaber? Fight off every one of us?”