“Ro,” Pan said in welcome, eyes narrowed, waiting to see how the Eye would respond.

“Tempest Runner,” Ro exclaimed, clapping Pan’s arm, his voice amplified by his helmet. At least that explained why the fool was wearing it, so everyone could hear, but as for the hand on his arm, it was all Pan could do not to snap the man’s arm.

Who did Ro think he was? The two of them weren’t compatriots, they weren’t even comrades in arms. Pan had no need for Ro anymore.

And yet the Eye continued, turning to address the assembled horde like a damn politician.

“We congratulate you all on your victory. Today marks the beginning of a new reality. Never again will the Republic underestimate us. Never again will they consider themselves beyond our touch. Their power is a lie. The Jedi are a lie.” He thudded his chest with a gloved fist. “This is our time. Yes, we lost many in the attack, and we honor their sacrifice, but we have gained so much. Tonight we drink. Tonight we celebrate. Tonight we are Nihil!”

Another cheer of approval erupted all around, but Pan rankled where he stood. They had lost many? They had lost some, that was true, as was to be expected, but Ro was playing a dangerous game. After everything Pan had done, after everything he had achieved, Ro dared to undermine his success. If there had been losses, they were from Lourna Dee’s ground forces, not from the Tempest in the air.

That was a point. Where was Lourna? Pan could see some of her legion among the throng, but the Tempest Runner herself was not among them, nor had her ship been in orbit when the Elegencia had arrived.

He turned, as if alerted by a sixth sense, to see her in the shadows of the doorway. Realizing she had been spotted, she hobbled out. Like Pan, she wore no helmet, although unlike the Dowutin she had obviously suffered on Valo’s surface. There was a pronounced limp in her gait, and her face was heavily bruised. Most of the cuts had already scabbed over, although the vivid burn down her right cheek would take longer to heal. It didn’t look like a blaster burn, or even that of a lightsaber. Fire from the carpet bombs? It was a definite possibility if the fury in her eyes was anything to go by, fury that was at this moment directed at him. Pan tried not to let the others see him tense, ready for an attack he was sure was about to come. And yet the Tempest Runner merely fell in beside Ro and addressed Pan with the cold emptiness of a starless sky.

“Congratulations, Pan.”

He nodded, still cautious. “And to you, Lourna.”