The Dowutin looked past Ro and Uttersond at the Squall Spider. “Just where did you take that old heap, Ro?”

“All will be revealed,” Ro said, glancing down at Pan’s hands, his jaw clenching as he saw the twisted remains of his mask in the Dowutin’s massive hands.

“Why wait?” Pan said, throwing his arms wide so everyone could see the crumpled helm in his grip. “We’re all here. Tell us. Tell us why you ran off to Wild Space. Why you left the Gaze Electric hanging in the sky like the overblown museum piece it is.” His arms finally dropped down to his sides, but the challenge in his voice remained. “Why you told no one where you were going.”

“He told me.” Ro tried not to wince as Uttersond piped up, seemingly unaware of the aggression in Pan’s tone. For a brilliant doctor—not to mention a talented sadist—the Chadra-Fan could be remarkably dense when it came to reading the room.

“Well, that’s all right then,” Pan said with a sarcastic snort. “If the bat knows, you might as well tell everyone.” Pan’s crew were on their feet now, and other Nihil were gathering at the door to the nearest block, attracted by the tension in the air, like bloodflies to fresh meat. “We all want to know, don’t we?”

Ro glanced at the other Tempest Runners, taking in each of their expressions in turn. Zeetar was chewing his lip, a tell that had lost him many a digotto hand over the years, but Lourna was as inscrutable as ever. Ro had no idea what was going on behind that impassive face, with or without her mask. Was the Twi’lek with Pan or with Ro, because that was the line that was being drawn out here in the rain. Everyone knew it. The Tempest Runners. The gathering crowd. Ro himself.

“You know how this works, Pan,” Ro said before raising his chin slightly to address everyone in the yard. “We all know how it works. When the time is right, I will inform you, and you will inform the Storm.”

“The time is now,” Pan barked, throwing the two halves of the mask to the ground. They bounced and rolled, an oxygen tube coming loose and flopping down on Ro’s boot. He resisted the urge to kick it away, waiting to see who would draw a blaster first, if that was how this was going to go down. One thing was certain: Pan wanted a crowd, a circus, and by the Paths he’d get it.

Ro’s hand went to his stolen lightsaber.

Pan tensed, preparing to strike first.