Bell entered alongside Indeera and Engle and was immediately set upon by the other veterans of the Hetzal disaster—Nib, Burryaga, and Mikkel—who talked animatedly to the young man, Burry looking like he wanted to gather Bell into a well-meaning, but potentially bone-crunching, hug. All the time Bell’s charhound sat obediently at his feet, looking up at the newcomers and glancing every now and then at her master, as if checking Bell was all right. But was he? The boy was smiling, but the expression seemed tired, forced even. Stellan knew that feeling. For the last half hour he had been engaged in a riveting conversation about the intricacies of carbon score removal with a member of the Ardennian Guild of Technicians. Of course, engaged was a relative term. Stellan had merely been smiling and making encouraging noises at the appropriate moments in the conversation. This was his moment both to escape and also to check that the Padawan had recovered from his ordeal above Cyclor.

“Have you toured the exhibition, Delegate Retar?”

The Ardennian shook his head, keen to steer the conversation back to matters of ship maintenance.

“Oh you should,” Stellan said quickly, catching the eye—or at least the atmosphere helmet—of archivist OrbaLin. “It gathers treasures from every major Jedi collection. Absolutely fascinating.” Thankfully, OrbaLin had taken the hint and stomped over, his movements as fluid as you’d expect from a blob of constantly shifting mucus operating a humanoid space suit. “Archivist,” Stellan said, “I was wondering if you could accompany Delegate Retar around Secrets of the Jedi? I think he would be particularly interested in the Cassadrean Matrix.”

“Of course, Master Gios,” OrbaLin burbled, a vocoder translating the movements of the slime within the suit into spoken words. “It would be my pleasure.”

Relieved of the conversation, Stellan waited patiently for OrbaLin to guide his charge toward the ornate double doors that led to the exhibition. When the coast was clear, Stellan made for Bell and the others, his progress hindered every few steps by delegates wanting to make the acquaintance of a member of the Jedi Council. Stellan made his excuses each time, trying his best not to cause offense but determined to make it to the group of Jedi before they disappeared into the crowd.

“Master Gios,” Indeera exclaimed when he finally drew near, “it is good to see you.”

“And you, too, Jedi Stokes. I am pleased that the Force led you safely through the raid.”

“Some more than others,” Porter Engle grunted. “I thought that young Zettifar was going to go the same way as Loden.”

The directness of Engle’s comment drew a startled mew from Burryaga, not to mention shocked looks from the other Jedi.

“This is why you should never become a counselor, Engle,” Nib Assek scolded. “I hope your clawfish chowder is better than your bedside manner.”

Engle frowned at the woman, his expression voicing a silent What?