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than most." Mirax laughed. "No profit in bragging, only working."

"Indeed." The Jedi held a hand up and brushed it along the Vratix's arm as Qlaern touched his face. "Our thanks to you for creating rylca."

"Verachen is what we are. Our joy is in our success."

"And your success will make many people very happy." Luke withdrew his arm--forestalling introductions to the rest of the squadron as they crowded around--and, for a moment, his dark cloak closed around his body. When his hands again emerged from beneath the garment, he extended a slender silver cylinder toward Corran. "This belongs to you, I believe."

"No, sir. I returned it to the Museum, and the Jedi Credit, too." Corran tapped his breastbone. "I borrowed them when escaping from there and returned them when everything calmed down."

"I know that, Lieutenant Horn." Luke's hand remained halfway between them with the lightsaber held loosely in his grip. "What I mean is that this lightsaber belongs to you. They're often passed down from one family member to an-other."

Cotran frowned. "I think you're making a mistake here. That lightsaber belonged to a Jedi named Nejaa Halcyon. It should go to his family."

"So it shall." Luke advanced it toward him. "Nejaa Hal-cyon was your grandfather."

What? Luke's remark, spoken in a low, calm voice, sur-prised Wedge as much as it seemed to surprise Corran. "Cor-ran, you never said anything about your grandfather being a Jedi Knight."

"He wasn't. My grandfather was Rostek Horn. He worked for the Corellian Security Force. He wasn't a Jedi. He once partnered with one--liaised with him so CorSec could work with the Jedi on things on Coreilia--but that was it." Corran unfastened his tunic at the neck and pulled out the medallion he wore. He unclasped the gold
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