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at a cost of control. No Jedi would seriously use spice when dealing with the Force.” Another silence, and even Eddey had stopped eating. Reen’s eyes were unfocused, and her mind was wrapped up in a now-distant memory. The Jedi could imagine what she was thinking about.
    Mander added, “I am very sorry about your brother.”
    “Even before I came here,” she said, “I knew I hadlost him. I had lost him to his dreams. I had lost him to the Jedi. And I had lost him to the spice.”
    “Toro’s mission to Makem Te had nothing to do with spice,” Mander repeated. “He was here to negotiate for a set of space coordinates. I don’t know how or why he became involved in Tempest. Regardless, I
am
sorry.”
    She looked into the Jedi’s unwavering eyes. “I believe you,” said Reen after a moment, and went back to picking at her steak. Then she looked up. “I’m sorry for shooting at you.”
    “You would not be the first,” Mander said. The three ate in silence.
    After a few moments, Reen said, “Where does that leave us?”
    Mander suppressed a shrug. “I don’t know if it leaves us anywhere. The spice that he used has been destroyed, along with its local distributors. I want to find out where the spice came from, but I also must finish Toro’s mission, and I don’t know if one is tied to the other. But someone else may want those coordinates, and someone definitely knew about Toro’s … addiction, and deliberately spiked the wine with an overdose. That means I have competition for what I need, and must act quickly.”
    Reen did not look up from her meal. Then, as if realizing something for the first time, she said, “You said he was looking for space coordinates? Doesn’t seem like much of a mission for a Jedi.”
    “They are for the Indrexu Spiral,” said Mander in a low voice.
    Both Reen and Eddey looked up, and Reen let out a low whistle. “The Indrexu Spiral? That’s a knotty bit of space. It’s a swirling maelstrom of proto-stars and dark matter just looking for ships to blow up. Even spacers who make the Kessel Run know better than to try it. Who would have been foolhardy enough to have mapped it?”
    “That I do not know,” said Mander. “But I do know who has the coordinates, and that Toro was supposed to meet with them in orbit above Makem Te.”
    Reen looked at him thoughtfully. “Once you get the coordinates, you’ll need someone who knows the space lanes to confirm them.”
    “I know my galactic navigation,” said Mander. “I’ve studied the relevant texts on my way here.”
    “Meaning you’ve never programmed a navicomp, have you?” Reen’s eyes lit up. “Probably had some droid do it. It’s an art form, you know. You mess up the numbers and … well, it’s not pretty, that’s all.”
    “Are you volunteering to help?” asked Mander, and the Bothan made a coughing noise like the steak was going down a breathing tube.
    “Not volunteering,” said Reen, ignoring her companion. “If Toro was killed for Jedi business, then it makes it my business as well. If someone overdosed or poisoned him to keep him from these coordinates, I’d like to meet them.”
    “And if they decide to come after me, you’d like to be there,” said Mander.
    Reen gave a shrug, and stabbed at the last of her steak. “You’re my best lead,” she said.
    “Do you have a ship?” asked the Jedi.
    Reen hesitated with the large forkful of steak and set it down on the iron plate. The Bothan was grinning, but said nothing.
    “Well,” said the Pantoran, suddenly more circumspect, “yes and no.”
    “How much yes and how much no?” asked Mander.
    Reen said, “There
is
a ship—the
Ambition
. But it’s not what you would call … functional.” The Bothan was making a chuffing noise that Mander could swear was chuckling.
    It was Mander’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “How nonfunctional is it?”
    “Extremely nonfunctional,” said the Bothan, and there was clear amusement in his