They had no comms, and yet somehow the rest of the drift appeared at her wings. Was this Porter calling the others to them? It had to be. What else would explain the broken images that flooded her mind? Eggs cooking on a stove. Engle’s Vector screeching out of hyperspace over Cyclor. A distant terror, from years ago, a lightsaber slipping from broken fingers.
	He was trying to communicate, but the message was as scrambled as the eggs she could almost smell. She reached back, calming his thoughts, easing the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. Was this how Engle viewed the galaxy, the past and the present constantly in flux? What had happened back then? What horror had the Blade of Bardotta witnessed?
	Not now, she imagined him saying. Now we save lives.
	Suddenly everything was clear. There was no more confusion, only certainty. Engle, Indeera, Mikkel, Nib, and Burryaga of one mind and one resolve.
	The drift came about, dropping effortlessly into a formation, Porter still miraculously standing on her Vector’s back, anchored in place. Whether it was by force of will or will of the Force, she didn’t know, nor did it matter. All that mattered were the people falling to their deaths.
	Porter Engle was about to perform the impossible.
	No, not just him. They all were.
	Together.
	For light and life.

TRS Chapter 35