The thick, gray dust kicked up by the relatively minor explosion that had breached the ceiling took its time in clearing. Not that it bothered either Silas or Laera, armored as they were, and certainly not HK-47. “Now what?” the Bothan asked as he gazed up through the vaguely round hole. “How do we—whoa!” His query was cut short as he was slowly levitated through the ceiling and set gently upon the floor above. “Care to give a guy a warning next time you do that?” “Sorry,” Laera replied, grinning beneath her helmet. “HK-47, your turn.” “That makes two of us,” Laera said dryly. “It should be...”