Normally an apprentice was to wait for a Master’s approval before taking any dramatic action.

Nothing about this situation was normal.

Reath went for the comms. “All vessels! Approach the station for immediate docking. You have four minutes to get on the safe side of the station, away from the star. We’ll send boarding orders shortly, after we’ve checked the station out. Just get there now!”

Coordinates came up on Leox’s panel, and he nodded. “Thanks, Geode. Heading in.”

The ship shifted so swiftly the gravity didn’t have time to compensate, sending Reath sliding to the far side of the bridge; apparently the senior Jedi had been caught off guard also, to judge by the thumps and a muttered oof he heard from within the main cabin.

Within seconds, the other ships came into view, all of them headed for the one small sliver of safety to be found behind the station—until one, the smallest one, slowed.

“That’s Nan’s ship, right?” When Affie nodded, Reath took the comm again. “Nan, you guys need to hurry.”

“Our engine’s given out! We need repairs—and there’s no time.”

Reath turned toward Leox. “Does the Vessel have a tractor beam?”

“Negatory.” Leox wore a thoughtful look. “What we do have is a towline.”

“Head for Nan’s ship,” Reath said.

Affie shot him a look, and it occurred to him that while the Jedi were ready to risk their lives for others, civilians weren’t necessarily as committed. Nor was it fair to expect that of them. People had the right to guard their own survival. Before he could speak, though, she’d already flipped the toggle to ready the towline, and Leox turned them sharply toward Nan’s ship.

More thuds sounded from the back, and a harried Orla Jareni appeared in the doorway, bracing herself against the jamb. “What in the seven hells is going on?”

“We’re evading a solar flare,” Reath said. “Another ship needs help to get to safety.”

“Got it.” Orla had instantly snapped out of her mood. “What can I do?”

Leox answered her. “Solar radiation’s about to soak this whole system. For everybody except the Mizi, that station’s the only safe place to be. So we need exosuits at the ready.”

Affie chimed in, “And an order of boarding for all the ships, so not everybody’s trying to hitch themselves to an airlock at once.”

Immediately Orla got to work. Reath could only hang on and watch as they drew nearer to the pitifully small ship belonging to Nan and her guardian. It looked even more slapdash up close, obviously pieced together from other ship fragments. Like a rainy-day craft project for Ugnaughts, Reath thought, then mentally took it back. These people were doing the best they could with what they had. They deserved respect for their ingenuity.

He asked, “How close do we have to get for the towline?”

“Not too close,” Leox said, then proved it by firing the tow. It lanced through empty space before colliding with the hull of Nan’s ship. With a shimmer of energy, the electromagnetic clamp kicked in. “All righty. Now we just have to get to the station before being incinerated to atoms.”

Reath tried not to let his reaction show, but he must not have done a good job, because Affie said, “Don’t scare the landlubbers.”

“We’ve only got forty-five seconds left,” Leox said, and Affie’s jaw dropped. Apparently the situation was just as scary as Reath had thought.

But Leox (and, possibly, Geode?) took them around the curve of the spherical station a full two seconds before outer space filled with a flash of brilliant white light. Reath shielded his eyes with his arm and was still nearly blinded for a moment.

When he could sort of see again, he said, “That means we made it, right?”

Leox put his hands behind his head. “Am I good or what?”

Before anyone could board the station, a landing party had to make certain the interior was safe. Dez had asked to lead the way; Affie agreed to go on behalf of the Vessel crew.

Reath volunteered readily, though he had questions. “Should we conduct more scans first? There could be dimensions to this station we don’t understand. Risks we haven’t guessed.”

“That’s why they call it adventure.” Dez was already double-checking settings on his wristband equipment, pacing near the airlock. “We already checked the atmosphere, so we know we can breathe. Anything else, we’ll handle as it comes.”

As Leox carefully maneuvered the Vessel into docking position on the central ring, Reath asked Affie, “Have you explored lots of abandoned old places? Are there tons of things like this out here?”

“First time,” she said brightly, like there was zero chance they were about to die.

Maybe that was true. Look at it this way, he told himself. You’re doing research with primary sources. Getting the information straight from the source, to share with others later. It helped, thinking that the last phase of this task would be simply writing it all down.

Their airlock spun open. Light streamed in, almost blinding at first, and Reath momentarily feared another solar flare. His eyes must have adjusted to the light more slowly than Dez’s, because he whispered, “Would you look at that?”

An instant later, Reath could see it, too: a tunnel leading from the boxy, utilitarian ring straight into the central globe of the station itself. As the three of them walked through the tunnel, he realized it was transparent, creating the illusion that they were suspended in the blackness of space. He’d never experienced anything like it, strolling through a sea of stars. Vertigo threatened him for a moment, but it soon vanished in sheer fascination. Reath was drawn by both the spectacular view around him and what he saw ahead—an abundance of green.

They emerged into the central globe, which included booths and kiosks on multiple layers of walkways. They might’ve once been shops, laboratories, all open to the glassy sphere that formed the body of the station—and all covered in vines.

And ferns. And moss. Even a couple of trees. Plant life spilled over every beam, climbed up every wall. This was more flora than Reath saw in a year on Coruscant.

“How—” Reath murmured as they stepped out, stems crunching beneath their feet. “How is this possible?”

Dez gestured toward the blazing light at the core—a small array of supercharged hexagonal power banks, suspended in energy fields. “Self-generating light and heat, fueling the station. The plants took care of the rest themselves.”

“It’s beautiful,” Affie breathed, walking forward with her face turned up to the light.

Reath couldn’t disagree. Instead of something menacing and diabolical, he’d strolled into an orbiting garden. “I bet the station had an arboretum,” he mused as they walked forward. “To supply oxygen and food, and help travelers relax—all those things—and after the station was abandoned, the plants took it over.”

“Sounds about right to me,” Dez said, then inhaled deeply and smiled. The air was not only breathable but also smelled wonderful—fresh, sweet. “Look there. Turns out the plants have had some help.”

Following Dez’s pointing finger, Reath glimpsed movement within the greenery. A small droid emerged—an antique 8-T gardening model, which looked a lot like the “head” dome of an astromech let loose on its own. The thin metal instruments protruding from one of its panels appeared to be busy pollinating some bell-shaped flowers in shades of orange and violet. Another 8-T appeared, closer by, busy at the same task. They took no notice of intruders; their programming was solely about taking care of plants. It appeared the droids had done their job admirably.

“Should we do a botanical survey?” Reath asked. “Catalog all the life-forms here, find out if any are unknown to us at present?”

“Eh, that’s droid work,” Dez said. “And not particularly urgent. Personally, I’d like to get a better look at the other things sentients left behind…starting with that.”

He gestured toward a particularly thick patch of fronds, revealing a shape that had been almost obscured behind them: a statue of a figure, human or at least humanoid, carved of some kind of stone and gilded with something dully golden that reflected the light. The vaguely feminine figure wore an elaborately carved headdress set with either colored glass or actual jewels, and it held its arms crossed over its chest. It resembled no mythological deity or folkloric hero Reath knew of, but he felt a thrill anyway. This was a window into history—into legend.

But behind that thrill lurked a shiver. A shadow.

Staring at the statue, he said, “Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” Dez said. His voice had grown more thoughtful. “The shadow. It might not mean anything.”

Or it might, Reath couldn’t help thinking.

Affie Hollow neither understood what “shadow” Dez and Reath were talking about (which made no sense, since they were all bathed in light) nor cared. Whatever mysticism this brand of wizard-monk peddled was only mildly interesting to her. The station, however, was fascinating.

Not because of the antiquities the Jedi were already fawning over.

Because of objects far more recent than that.

Affie’s sharp eyes picked out the spanner first, then the anx. A handful of spacer’s tools, strewn in one corner—obviously abandoned for a while but not long enough for any vines to grow over them. The moss beneath them still seemed healthy and green, so they couldn’t have been there longer than—a few months. A couple of years? She wasn’t exactly an expert on moss. Maybe Geode would know. However, she was certain that it hadn’t been very long since other travelers had come through the station.

Probably some of them had been Byne Guild pilots. Why else would this system’s coordinates be preprogrammed into the Vessel’s computer? Definitely nothing else remotely interesting was to be found around there; even by the standards of open space, that area was bleak. So this station had to have been of some use to the Guild, sometime, or it wouldn’t be one of the places in their navicomputer.

Hundreds of places, she reminded herself. Maybe even thousands. We never counted them all—what’s the point? Some of that data might be old, out of use. Obsolete to how the Guild runs today. Scover built everything off preexisting navicomputers, back when she was first creating the Guild.

Then she remembered that Scover might at that moment be dead or injured because of a disaster far larger than anything they’d ever encountered before, and her heart ached anew. For the Jedi this disaster was of great but abstract concern; for her it was intensely personal. Remembering how hard her foster mother had worked to build her shipping fleet made Affie even more fiercely hopeful that Scover had lived. She deserved to live, to reap the benefits of all that effort.

But the others killed in the disaster had probably deserved to live, too. Chance was too cruel to pay attention to what people deserved.

Dez was studying the inscription on the sandstone statue. Reath asked, “Can you read it?”

“No, it’s not written in Aurebesh, and the glyph groupings don’t look like Basic,” Dez said. “But it’s not wholly unfamiliar, either. Reminds me of a couple of ancient languages we studied. An actual scholar might be able to translate. Luckily we’ve got one on board.”

Affie wondered whether she should mention the tools or not. The Jedi didn’t seem to care one way or the other about who might’ve used the station recently, so she decided she’d keep that information to herself for the moment. When she had a chance to talk with Leox or Geode alone, they could discuss this and decide what the Jedi did—and didn’t—need to know.

When Cohmac got his first good look at the small ship approaching them at one-tenth power, he felt a moment of empathy—almost tenderness. It had been literally patched together from at least four or five other ships, none of which appeared even vaguely similar in design. What poverty must have inspired this? At least desperate need had been matched with determined innovation. Where most would’ve considered themselves planet-bound and trapped, these people had found their own way to the stars.

As soon as they had confirmation that all species aboard could breathe inside the station, Cohmac indicated that the ragtag ship could dock at the nearest airlock and went out to meet them, Orla at his side. The initial exploration trio returned to stand beside them as the second airlock spun open.

“Oh, look,” Nan whispered as she walked forward. She was even tinier than she’d appeared on the screen—a girl hardly more than a meter and a half tall, dressed in a shabby but colorful dress. Her dark hair was vividly painted with blue streaks, a flash of vivacity and life. “It’s like my terrarium, but big enough to walk in!”

“Yes, just like your terrarium,” said the elderly Zabrak hobbling out after her, chuckling. His clothes were a match for hers, and his walking stick had countless notches carved into it as a record of some measure of a life Cohmac could hardly imagine. “Hello, there. I’m Hague, and apparently you’ve met my ward, Nan.”

“Cohmac Vitus, Jedi Knight.” He held out his hand to shake, a custom that fortunately seemed to be as familiar on the frontier as at home. “Welcome. Let me introduce my compatriots, Dez Rydan, Orla Jareni, Reath Silas, and Affie Hollow. We hope to turn this station into a place of refuge for those stranded by the hyperspace closure.”

“You’re the ones in charge, eh? Good, good. I don’t mind saying that we’re grateful to see you. Hardly enough provisions on board to last us three days. I don’t need so much, but the little one—”

“I believe the larger transports will offer adequate food for us all,” Cohmac said. Assuming they’re willing to share, and that the hyperspace lanes aren’t closed for too long. No point in worrying these people about it. “For now, get yourselves settled.”

Orla nodded her greetings but moved past Cohmac, back into the Vessel for reasons of her own. The travelers weren’t offended by her departure; Nan, in particular, looked delighted to have found people her own age. No wonder—Cohmac wasn’t familiar with Zabrak life spans, but Hague was at a minimum several decades older. Looking back and forth between Reath and Affie, Nan asked, “Are you both Jedi Knights, too?”

Affie made a sound that Cohmac decided not to interpret as rude. “Hardly. I’m the copilot on the Vessel.”

“I will be a Jedi Knight someday,” Reath said, “but for now I’m still a Padawan. A student in the ways of the Force.”

Nan lit up. “I’ve heard tales of the Jedi. Can you tell me more about your Order? How you learn to do the things you do?”

Curiosity about the Jedi was great in the frontier region, in ways both good and bad. Cohmac hoped they would make a good impression starting from this moment on. However, he suspected Nan’s interest had as much to do with Reath’s pleasant face as it did with the Jedi. Probably far more.

As older Jedi always did when observing such interactions between younger ones and outsiders to the Order, Cohmac mused, I fear someone will have to break it to her that the Jedi don’t—

Well. Let Reath deal with that if and when it arose.

Orla came to his side. “Listen, I know you have plenty to think about at the moment. Leading the group, organizing the refugees as they come on board—”

“Your point?” Cohmac asked.

Orla arched an eyebrow so sharply it could have cut. “My point is, you can delegate your other roles. You can’t delegate your knowledge of ancient artifacts. Dez has pointed out that this place is chock-full of ancient tech and even more ancient statues. With inscriptions. In unknown languages.” Orla pronounced all this in the same tone of voice she might’ve told a racing enthusiast about the Neutrino Angler in the hangar next door, or described holiday sweets to an excited child.

Even though Cohmac was usually more moderate in his enthusiasms…Orla had caught his attention. “Totally unknown languages?”

“One of them, at least, reminds Dez a little bit of Old Alderaanian. He could be wrong, though. An expert’s eyes would see much more.”

“Then I leave it to Dez and Reath to handle the station boarding for now.” He put one hand on Orla’s shoulder. “Lead the way.”

After they had walked several steps away, Orla said, more quietly, “It threw me, at first. An accident in this area of space, a ship we didn’t know well—”

“I thought of it, too,” Cohmac replied. This chapter of his past was one he rarely reflected on. The parallels between this mission and the first one he and Orla had undertaken together—he’d hoped to put them aside and ignore them for the duration of the disaster.

Apparently Orla didn’t intend to let him. He should have expected no less. Cohmac could practically see the words hovering on her lips. However, before she could delve into the subject, she halted in her tracks and said, “Do you feel that? The…shadow? The chill? Reath and Dez sensed it as well.”

“It’s darkness,” Cohmac said. “I’ve felt it, too. Something on this station is bound to the dark side.”