Rain sheeted down and thunder crackled even as far up the valley from Shay Memorial as the Drake ranch, several dozen klicks away.  The hangar near the house was warm and dry, though, and one of the Drake children was taking advantage of that fact.  Xander Drake was underneath the old speeder he’d been working on since before he was tall enough to drive it, still working on fixing up the ‘old girl’ after all the years.
           He’d arrived home late the night before, under cover of darkness and festivities—and fleet activity above.  He still wasn’t sure what had happened, but he wasn’t inclined to ask, either.  That was his mother’s concern, his father’s concern, his brother’s concern.  Not his.  Not anymore.  Not ever.
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