Subject: Notes on Samizdat 



Part One - Evolution of the Story

	
	I wrote Samizdat thinking that I was merely entertaining myself 
and few new-found friends on the Internet.  The primary impetus was one 
of frustration.  I was impressed with Zahn's trilogy, but I thought his non-
building of a relationship between Luke and Mara was truncated and 
bespoke a certain editorial forbiddeness.  Mr. Anderson's forays into the 
Star Wars world were skimmed and never picked up again.  I did like 
Bakura, although I felt it was a little muddled. But the book that really 
sold me on the whole thing was, as you may have guessed by now, "Children 
of the Jedi."

	Ms. Hambly's descriptions, her intuitive understanding of the 
droids (she wrote the best, most believable C-3PO anywhere), her portrait 
of Leia were all godsends.  For the first time, I could actually see the 
characters talking to each other, I could see Han expressing his love for 
his wife in a realistic way and the characters in the saloons and on the ship 
were vivid and colorful.  Her creation of Roganda was transcendent, and 
only slightly less so, Irek.  Her use of the past to foreshadow the present 
was seamless and well done.  

	I did not realize until I started lurking on the some of the message 
boards however, how much the Callista character was hated.  I never 
understood this as I sensed that Ms. Hambly had written the perfect 
woman for Luke.  I also realized that the only way Lucasfilm would allow
 a love story for  its star Jedi would be under similar, incorporeal and 
necessarily oblique circumstances.  However,  the ending of the book 
always bothered me.  It is an exciting conclusion and it is amazing when 
Callista lives.  But there are misgivings.

	The corollary to this was my initiation into the realm of fan fiction.  
Late one night, I stumbled upon "Stuff."  Here was a different Luke, one 
realistic and tortured, one who was a wounded hero.  And, not 
coincidentally, it was Callista who had precipitated Luke's withdrawal into a 
private, raging world.  That was a great moment for me, because suddenly 
I saw it all very clearly.  

	The odd thoughts about, "Well, whatever happened to that Mara 
character?" and "Why would Callista leave someone she loves so much?" 
suddenly fell into place.  As I began to find my way around the fan fiction 
world I realized I had something to say about all this.  Ghitsa, PG and Sue, 
new friends, agreed and Samizdat was conceived.  

	The story was not written from an outline but I don't believe most 
fan fiction is.  We amateurs do not need to submit our ideas in coherent 
form to editors, so we write whatever we want when the mood takes us.  
Of course, this has gotten a lot of people into trouble, the classic problem 
being that the amateur has a tendency to write his/herself into corners 
from which there is no escape.  This is particularly true if the author is 
releasing the story in installment form.  I decided right then and there that 
if I ever wrote a story I thought good enough to be read by more than a 
few, interested and kindly souls, that I would not release it in installment 
form.  Famous last words.

	My first ideas had mostly to do with a political crisis in the New 
Republic, say what's left of the Imperials suing for membership in the new, 
galactic government.  Up to that point (May, 1996) nothing like this had 
been put forward.  I figured the New Republic would have to put up or shut 
up as the saying goes and that the Chief of State would be in middle of 
the ferment.  And I wanted to address the problem of Callista and what 
happened to her -- I always figured that she turned to the darkside.  Darks
aber, in my skimming of it, foreshadowed that adequately.  I also had a 
few ideas regarding Irek, his relationship with his mother and his true 
father.  This was, of course, left up in the air by Ms. Hambly who makes it 
pretty clear, if the reader is paying attention, that  perhaps Palpatine wasn't 
actually Irek's father after all.  When Ghitsa and I were discussing the 
beginnings of this story, that's where I was headed.  

	Then I wrote Chapter One and the entire thing changed. Chapter 
One's focus is Tionne, even though in the story as a whole she is really a 
very minor character.  I have received letters expressing disbelief  that 
Luke, in his goodness and purity, would stoop to attempting to seduce and 
then murder Tionne and that he would be so indifferent to his school and 
his mission.  Chapter One begins as Tionne attempts to lay claim to 
something she has no right to and Luke rebukes her.  But when she sees 
Luke again, he is suddenly willing to take her on.  This leads to misgivings, 
as well it should.  These prompt Luke to become enraged (very out of 
character) and attempt to kill her.  Then, the scene is turned and it is told 
from Luke's point of view.  

	As for the question:  was that really Luke or not?  It was and it 
wasn't.  Sorry.  But, the sequence of events can be taken both ways.  It is 
written to be confusing, as if the reader is being sucked into the nightmare 
imagery.  There is one neglected part:  the imagery at the end of the 
scene, just before Luke loses consciousness, foreshadows Callista's role 
-- the "heaven of blue ocean all around."  Callista came from Chad and her 
family farmed the oceans.  Also her manner of speech is indicated 
(harking back to COTJ) and the lightsaber is the wrong color,  (signifying 
evil) which is Luke's first real tip-off that something is wrong.

	Luke then steps off the stage and most of the rest of the 
characters are introduced. I was warned by Ghitsa, who would become a 
daily correspondent for a while, that there were many who would object to 
my treatment of Jedi Skywalker.  But it was already too late.   

	The novels were my source for the aforementioned.  Luke is 
a beaten soul by the end of DS, he has lost the love of his life, except 
for perhaps, Leia -- but I did not address that until the end of the story.  
He is wounded and almost colorless, fatigued, searching, much like 
Gheorghe2's character only the Luke I wrote was falling apart in slow 
motion. And, even from the beginning of Samizdat, he was turning, 
searching, listening for the sound of Callista's voice. 

	Voices, inflections, words and the way they are spoken are all 
very important in this story and I return to the concept again and again. 
The laughing, the sound fading in and out of the very fabric of existence 
all hark back to the "Eye of Palpatine" and Callista's spirit-like presence 
that fades in and out but never completely disappears.  Most readers, 
evidently, skip right over this part because no one ever mentions it.  The 
entire plot of the story is there, at the end of the "was that really Luke?" 
scene in those several (or is it only two?) paragraphs. 

	Luke is then possessed by her spirit as he always was, even in 
Ms. Hambly's story.  But Callista's influence is sharpened and focused by 
Luke's human weaknesses.  For, in this story, I wished to explore what 
none of the professional writers had ever been able or allowed to explore 
-- the combination of simple humanity and  Force omnipotence.  Many 
people complain that Luke is too one way or another and I agreed. 

Part Two - Plot Conundrums and Symbolism  
	
	If you have read the story, you know what happens.  I introduce 
the bad guys, including Jelila Daala (her first name was my own invention, 
I'm afraid) who provides the main point of view for them.  Luke wakes as 
Callista lets him go (the sand, the blood, the red saber in Leia's vision in 
her office) and Leia has to deal with him.  Trouble is, he can't tell her 
what's wrong and she can't just accept that he's "all better."  So she puts 
him in jail.  This is where Mara begins to develop.

	I had some problems with Mara and it has taken me a while to 
get used to writing for her.  She is a highly compartmentalized character, 
lonely but proud of her self-sufficiency, tortured and oblique. She seems 
well, but she really isn't.  There is also an element of arrogance and anger 
there,  but it is subtle and mostly hidden.  This makes her marvelously 
complex.  Add to this the ideas put forth in "Stuff," which is an excellent 
portrait of Mara, and I had some real hesitations. 

	It would have been quite easy to mimic "Stuff" and my first drafts 
of the scene in Corucsant Detention were but bad imitations, I'm afraid.  
That's when I fell into the hands imagery.  The reader should notice that, 
almost as soon as Mara enters the cell, Luke reaches for her hands.  Her 
hands, as well as his, are well described and for a time I feared I had 
spent too much time with it.    

	The reader should begin to see what various forms of symbolism 
I have used here.  Blood, the color red, laughter, voice inflections and red 
saber (symbolizing evil) for Callista and the Darkside; and the earthbound 
flesh and blood of human hands to signify romantic relationships.  The 
bird symbolism is used first with the bad guys -- the jays and the falcon, 
then a bird of prey compared to a tiny tropical jewel when Callista finally 
appears and subjugates Roganda.  The jays are then killed by the falcon 
or the bird of prey, signifying the end of Daala's tenuous relationship with 
Irek and Khaali's growing influence. I feared for a time that I was using too 
much natural scenery, but that hesitation vanished as the story 
progressed. 

	Leia's visions on Tatooine are frightening too, but they are filled 
with coldness, fleshless bones, dry, skeletal clicking, rotted cloth, stalking 
ghosts,  and death.  Her visions are entirely different from anything else in 
the story, except that her vision of Ben and the baby is much the same as 
Luke's vision of the redeemed Callista in Chapter 10.   The reader will 
note the slight laughter hidden amongst the rustling leaves in the grove of 
trees on Krasny.  This is when Luke calls Mara by the wrong name.  For 
Khaali had taken his feelings for Mara and, once again, twisted them to her 
own ends.  

	Khaali's influence becomes undeniable and much of the violence 
that horrifies many readers (on the part of Luke) takes place at this time. 
But, Luke is a man possessed, the demon of his own weakness, 
loneliness and longings along with Khaali's eternal murmurings are too 
much for him and he breaks out. 

	The next scenes have caused many people to turn away from the 
story.  For in Chapter 7, the seduction scene as I have always referred to 
it, is where Khaali attempts to lay claim to Luke's soul once and for all.  
And his own nobility and seeming naiveti make him an easy target.  The 
overriding imagery is the blood, of course, always a symbol of Khaali, and 
Irek's red saber.  There is a brooding darkness over the entire scene and 
the characters are each beaten down in their attempt to completely control 
the other.  People have asked me what they were doing when Irek 
interrupted them.  My reply, when I have given one, is -- if you have to ask, 
you are probably too young to read this story.  However, the reader must 
realize that the implications are that the relationship is *unconsummated.* 
(Unless you suppose that the Callista - Luke relationship was physically 
consummated sometime during DS.) 

	It was my feeling, along with some of my beta testers, that for 
Khaali and Luke to actually consummate the relationship would signify that 
Luke had truly fallen.  And, unless I wanted to actually kill off the Luke 
character (a possibility at one time) said consummation would only 
foreshadow his physical death.  At any rate, Irek interrupts and seemingly 
simple circumstance saves Luke's soul.  *Many* people object to this, but 
this happens to heroes as well as ordinary people.  Circumstance, in this 
case, becomes fate. 

	Luke, in the depths of despair attempts to kill himself -- the first 
self-willed thing he's done in the story.  The guards come in an the story 
blinks out.  Khaali awakens to Irek's taunts and Pellaeon's anger.  Irek 
confronts Luke and finds out some information he would have rather not 
known and Daala begins to see things differently.  (Although she will never 
love the New Republic, nor appear to ally with it.) And then we have the 
Djinn scene and what I have termed the breaking up scene.  

	The Djinn scene is one of the parts of that section that was 
rewritten six or seven times.  I did not want to include it all at first because 
I felt the story was too visionary and all the visions used to push along the 
narrative seemed a copout.  But, I needed a motivation for Luke's change 
of heart regarding Khaali.  Someone had to talk some sense into him -- 
who better than Callie's old master?  The bird imagery shows up again in 
the Djinn scene, very off putting and rather harsh.  The whole jungle is
 hostile and uncomfortable.  

	As for the breaking up scene, I deliberately wrote it as "forceless" 
to give the characters a chance to act as normal human beings without 
being able to effortlessly toss objects at each other, read each other's 
minds and/or fly....... <g>   This was necessary to the story.  Some, 
however, have felt that I diminished the mythology of the story by 
removing the Force.  Not at all.  Here again, I was attempting to explore 
the mental workings and resonances that were going on between Khaali 
and Luke, a chance to see feet-flat-on-the-ground reality.  The scene 
actually worked, but I worried that the reader would think it improbable that 
such a pure and unsullied person as Luke could stumble through breaking 
up with an old girlfriend just like the average guy.

	As for the rest, Roganda dies at the hand of her own son, very 
mythological.  Luke can only stand by and watch.  Roganda becomes, in a 
sad way, a clouded window into his past, what with her references to his 
father as a living being, to his father's view of his mother.... these all had to 
be disturbing to Luke.   Still, he is charged with the redemption of Callista 
and he cannot forget his duty.  The innate nobility of the character comes 
through here, in that he simply didn't ignore Callista, save Roganda from 
an obviously insane Irek, take her somewhere and force her to give up 
what to him would be crucial information regarding his parentage.   All of 
these things were well within his powers.  The fact that his father would 
have done that very thing is the difference between the generations, for 
one.

	When Luke does meet Mara again, he is humiliated since Mara 
witnessed, through Luke's eyes, his near fall.  Mara, whose feelings for 
Luke are just as complicated as she is, has to push hurt and anger aside, 
something very difficult for her since repressed anger fuels Mara's 
character to a large extent.  She forgives him, but the forgiveness is 
conditional in that if Luke lives through Callista's death, the matter will be 
dealt with. 

	As for the last chapter, the cold, the damp, dead, almost 
crystallized landscape is purposeful, as are the little,  brown, winter birds 
and the stalking crows.  The anger expressed by Han is entirely 
appropriate here as are the uncertainties expressed by the others.  Some 
have objected to Han's anger, but I see that as a true reaction.  Han is the 
one with the most common sense, he is the anchor in the story.  He keeps 
the mysticism from running away with it.  And he sees quite clearly that 
Luke is very likely going to his death and taking his sister et al along with 
him. 

	The end was planned from the beginning. I never saw Callista 
dying in sin, so to speak. It was important to the story, to the inherent 
hopefulness of Hambly's story that Callista die in the light.  But the demon 
of her sins had to be expunged and that is what happens.  A good many 
people have been confused by the action in the last scene, but you must 
remember there are 9 people/beings in the scene if one does not count 
the spirits.  If I had recounted every single movement of every single 
person I would have gone on for another 20 pages or so of rather 
pointless narrative. The shortened scene was more like a movie, quick 
cuts back and forth, focusing on the various characters when necessary.  

	And, when Mara is held captive by Khaali, things suddenly 
become quite clear for the hero of the story, although the audience is well 
ahead of him by that time.  He realizes his feelings and has no time to be 
frightened by them.  If he gives in to his own hesitations regarding Mara, 
she will die.   He considers and takes a step, a real step toward the 
darkside, toward self-sacrifice.  By this impulse alone, Luke finally turns 
down the road of redemption.  

	But Khaali is distracted by Irek -- once again fate has intervened 
and Mara slices her hand.  The ensuing resonances to ESB are 
purposeful and do not denote that I had no idea what to write here. Khaali 
is, for the first time, grievously wounded.  But her uncertainties go back to 
the seduction when she watched a distraught Luke, whom she had not 
succeeded in turning, attempt suicide rather than fall.  Something is 
happening, a change has been coming and at that point, as her blood 
flows and she is defeated, the light makes its move.  The demon of 
impulsiveness and desire is ripped from her by death and then comes life 
-- real life.  The spirit of Callista is finally free. 

	Luke who sees her liberated at last, longs to preserve her but she 
will not allow it.  But Irek interferes again and having no protectors this 
time, is dispatched.  And when he turns back to Callie, Luke finds that he 
cannot turn her down, no matter how brokenhearted he is.  Mara is the 
assistant, but in the end, he is alone with his duty, just as he has been all 
along.

	The Epilogue is an anti-climax, just as I figured it would be.  Luke 
must pay the piper so to speak and finally decide how he wants to live his 
life, himself, not as a Jedi or a celebrity or as the Chief of State's brother, 
or even as hero.  He has to find out if he has learned anything.  This is the 
point.

Part Three -- Character? Or,  who was that Jedi anyway?  

	The objection that Luke disappeared into useless obscurity  is 
premature.  The ending was  left purposefully ambiguous, thus allowing 
the reader to make his/her own suppositions.  The blurbs at the end are 
meant to be ironic.  I did not want to mention Luke there at all, but quailed 
at the thought of the letters I would receive if I did not.  As for Luke 
wasting his life, that is not stated only assumed by various readers.  I have 
no idea what Luke did, that part is not written.  There is no story here that 
does not exist beyond the fiction already written.  In other words, we are 
not talking about reality.  For another story to exist, someone has to make 
it up just as I made up mine. 

	As to my supposed "revision" of Luke's character, in my own 
defense I will state that I have always seen him this way.  Younger or 
older, less experienced, then more experienced, he has great potential to 
fall, something that Yoda recognized right away and was always chiding 
him for.  The entire "dark cave" scene in ESB is a grand illustration of this.   
And since the tragedy of  ESB is hinged on Luke's disobedience of his 
master, we have already seen how easily he falls off the straight and 
narrow.  

	The point here is that Luke is human.  However, a lot of readers 
expect him to be a saint.  My point here is that saints generally do not 
make interesting protagonists, however their journeys into sainthood are 
usually quite intriguing.  I greet with irony the complaints of some readers 
who argue on the one hand that the master has become almost cardboard 
in his goodness, his remoteness, his power and on the other hand that he 
has become too mortal and has too many faults.  Interesting point.   The 
latest illustration of a spiritual journey for Luke was in Kube-McDowell's 
latest book, "Tyrant's Test," wherein Luke sits out the last battle, in 
deference to the White Current.  He is remote, serene, and pacifistic -- all 
in all a very good person, a sinless person.  The complaints have been as 
loud as Luke was serene, most of these people disbelieving the action 
and regarding Luke's idealistic act as a symptom of selfishness or even 
worse, cowardice.  

	This denotes that the problems of goodness have not been 
thought through well by these readers and they find themselves stymied 
with the examples they have been given.   The concept of goodness is 
usually a very individual thing, anyway.   The implications of this goodness 
(which I have been accused of denying Luke) are not understood well and 
have not been explored deeply. 

	I am basically an optimist, despite the perceived darkness of 
Samizdat, and I believe that Luke went on to a very successful and fulfilled 
life, for the most part.  The richness of life is sometimes found in the 
shadows of our failures which highlight and define our successes. In this 
sense, I believe that Luke's life is no different than anyone else's, only this 
his spiritual journey is more intense than most.  Many seemed to feel that I 
had demythologized him here, but actually this is no different than Mary 
Stewart's treatment of Merlin in "The Last Enchantment," the entire story of 
King Arthur or Tolkien's treatment of the hobbit Sam Gamgee in the "Lord 
of the Rings."  Not to mention everyone in "The Once and Future King" 
which is a sublime illustration of what I was feebly aiming for here.  
Everyone goes on, plows through their mistakes, learns, lives, falls in love 
and continues, at least for a time.  This is one of the great, universal truths 
we all live with and one of the great themes of mythology. 

	Did Luke and Mara marry?   Did they have children?   Did Luke 
find another woman when Mara didn't work out?   Did Luke return to the 
Academy -- who knows?  I did not write anything about this and if I were in 
the process of doing so, I wouldn't be writing this essay now.  

	Obviously this is not the end of the story, but it may be, for a while, 
the end of my contribution to it.  Perhaps, someone would care to take up 
where I left off, to satisfy the longings inherent in your objections and 
questions. But be warned, these stories have a way of writing themselves 
and you may find yourself writing about things you never even imagined.

Part Four -- Notes on Canon

	In a recent discussion with one of the professional authors for 
the Star Wars franchise, I asked about canon.  The author made a reply 
which was, at best, unexpected.  He stated that since all the stories are 
just someone's point of view, so to speak,  whether good, bad or in 
between, all held the same amount of meaning.  This illuminates the whole 
canon argument in an entirely new light.  In other words, there is no canon.  
Mr. Lucas will decide, should he ever get around to creating the last 
trilogy, what to include and what not to include.  Chances are, none of it 
will be included.  

	The implications of this have the odd effect of leveling *all* the 
fiction out there, whether sanctioned by Mr. Lucas or not.  Since none of 
it is important, no matter in what form it was published, then all of it is 
important, if you take my meaning.  This discussion has significantly 
changed my view of Samizdat's place in the Star Wars story. 

	In conclusion I will concede that there are more themes in this 
story that just those I have included above.  I did not discuss the ending 
theme, nor the various themes in regards to Leia, nor any of the Luke - 
Mara interaction nor the evolution of Mara herself. My feeling was that this 
communication has become too long.  If there is any request, I will go into 
it, but I think the readership can be trusted to make its own decisions. 

	I hope that this long essay illuminates some of my thinking on 
Samizdat.  I know that many of the things I have said will only provoke 
more argument, but these are my thoughts and the basis from which I 
wrote the story.  Feel free, of course, to comment.


Shura


 Samizdat -- Chapter One 
Yavin IV


	"No, we can't do that, Master Skywalker, Streen can't handle the load.  
See?  Here and here," her finger moved along the datapad, it's red rimmed letters 
floating on  the LCD page.  "He's due to help the newer students with 
meditation....."

	"I thought Kam could do that," Luke put in, a little irritated.  

	She shook her beautiful head, her hair falling in generous waves down her 
back.  "Kam's no good with the newer students, he just intimidates them."  Her 
voice was light and musical, although right now it held a disconcerting matter-of-
fact tone.  

	Luke sighed.  "Right.  I remember now, he had them all comatose last 
week..."

	Tionne smiled, but it was a tight smile, as if someone had told an off color 
joke and she was trying to be polite about it.  "Jedi survival trance is not what 
these particular students are ready for.   What I don't understand is why he did it."

	Luke sighed and a slight smile lit his face.  His fair eyes closed in weariness 
and, perhaps, boredom, as he brought the incident to mind.  "Perhaps he sensed 
something, some mental gesture of readiness...." he began.

	She made an impatient movement.  "I'm sorry, Master, I know that's what 
he told you, but I don't buy it.  I think it was just carelessness.   In less than a 
second they were all in over their heads.  You yourself had to pull them out."

	Luke Skywalker sighed and stood.  "I remember clearly," he said, boredom 
stilting his surprisingly young voice. But the face that held it was neither young 
nor particularly entertained.  He yawned and stretched his hands out in front of 
him, his simple tunic pulling back along his arms.  "I talked to Kam about it, Tia, 
don't worry."

	"If that's meant to be reassuring, thank you," Tionne replied, just a shade 
sarcastic.  

	Luke smiled at that, this time genuinely.  "Okay, I'll make a point to talk to 
him again."  He gazed at her fragile face, right now full of concern and what he 
discerned was a slight bewilderment.  "Really, I know you're serious," he went on, 
realizing that she needed reassurance.  Tionne had a responsibility streak the size 
of a river in flood, which made her perfect as the administrator of the Jedi 
Academy.  Sometimes, though, he just wished she was more gifted in the ways of 
the Force, then it would be so much easier to communicate with her.   As it was, 
all the explanation she required was wearying.  He yawned again.

	She stood, sensing the end of the discussion.  "Okay, well then I'll talk to 
you later," she said, somewhat stiffly this time.  The data pad disappeared into a 
neat fold of her dress and she moved off gracefully, as if she were walking on air.  

	Luke looked after her for a moment, wondering at the grace so carelessly 
applied to the ancient stones beneath her feet.   Her dress swayed over the flagged 
shapes, her footstep unheard in the echoing chamber of the crumbling temple.  
Her hair was combed to a shiny brilliance, lightscale on a dark tunic, her shoes 
were immaculately maintained.  Luke grinned wryly.  Tionne was probably the 
only being on the whole planet who cared what her shoes looked like.  He 
watched her leave, his mind drifting with the pleasant thoughts of a long, hot 
afternoon.  But just as she rounded a corner, just as the swaying dress was pulled 
from sight, he thought she turned back to him, just for a moment.  Her flashing 
eyes pulled at the low light of the doorway and then she was gone.

	Shaking his head, he shifted his weight and made for the other direction.  
A stray guilt pulled at his heart, for he knew what Tionne felt.  He was a Jedi 
Master.  Lately, it seemed,  he knew everything.  His face fell into the usual 
dispassion as he moved away from the small, incongruous table that served as a 
workspace.  He too, moved with silent ease, gracefully flowing across the floor, a 
spirit in the huge place, belonging for a moment to the stone, as if he were only 
some ancient ghost come back to see what ravages time had dealt to a precious 
place long since deserted.  The displacement in his heart showed, briefly, on his 
features.   But then it vanished, as Kam Salusar entered through a painfully bright 
doorway, several young students in tow.

	"Master!" Kam's voice was paced and respectable.  

	Luke nodded, dispassion reaching back into his facial features as he gazed 
on some of his newer students.  They gazed back with dumbstricken awe. "Good 
afternoon,  Jedi Salusar, " he said, his voice unconsciously taking on a measured 
tone.   "Students," he added, nodding slightly.

	"Good afternoon, Master," they replied in a ragged chorus, too tongue-
tied to even giggle.  

	Luke regarded them from under hooded eyes.  They all looked terribly 
young.  He wondered, suddenly, if any of them had been alive when he fought his 
first space battle, in the very skies above the fecund planet.....

	"I was 10 standard years old, Master," came a light, but sure voice from 
the rear.  A silent moment of astonishment greeted this utterance.  

	Kam turned back to his students.  "Torwan?" he said quietly.

	A tall humanoid stepped forward, dressed in the plain robes of a novice 
student.  His face was of a pale bluish tint, and his eyes shone with a red glow.  He 
stood in front of Master Skywalker without undue pride or even much self-
consciousness.  

	Luke smiled, feeling his face crack as he did so.  He realized that he smiled 
too rarely these days.  "Very good, Torwan," he said quietly, amused.  "I was 
careless to be so undisciplined."

	"I am sorry to have intruded," Torwanl replied, very formal and dipped 
his head a little in something like apology.  

	Luke's smile broadened a bit.  "No, I think I will have to be more careful 
in future," he said, giving the boy his due.  "You have a very powerful mind.  Use 
it wisely."

	Torwan  turned his glowing eyes to Luke's fair ones and nodded quietly.  
"I will, sir." he replied simply, his hands and feet still, perfectly self-possessed.  

	Kam started as if someone had poked him with something sharp.  "Uh, 
well, Master Skywalker is very busy," he said, rubbing a stinging place on his 
forearm.  "Please, we will continue to the holocron room....."  he gestured toward 
a side room. The students moved quietly away, still awe-struck, although a bright 
bell of delighted, if stifled, laughter could be heard as the group rounded a corner.   
Kam waited until they had disappeared and turned back to the Master.  "Luke, 
whad'ya do *that* for?" he asked, still rubbing his arm.

	"I'm getting too old for this, Jedi Salusar," Luke replied, grinning widely.  
"Just putting you in your place...."

	"That *hurt*!" Kam protested, but quietly  grinned back.  "Smart kid, 
huh?"

	"An understatement, as usual," Luke replied, his grin fading a little.  "A 
relative of the Grand Admiral?"

	"I don't think so.  At least, he won't admit to it.  We haven't done any real 
mind-to-mind work yet, so I don't really know," Kam replied, speaking quickly, 
looking a little worried.

	"Kam, are you afraid of Torwan?" Luke said, grinning again.

	Kam grinned back.  "I'm a little afraid of *all* of them, Master 
Skywalker," he replied in a serious tone.

	"Very good, Jedi, you're learning," Luke said, moving beyond Kam.  
"You'd better get in there before they find something in the Holocron we've never 
been able to access before."

	"The vote of confidence is flattering, Master," Kam replied, wincing.  They 
moved past each other, and the room once again held only slight echoes, rustling 
animals and silent, patterned sunlight.  Suddenly, Luke shook his left forearm, his 
right hand reflexively grasping it.  A spot of burning pain pulsed once and was 
gone.  Luke grimaced, smiled resignedly to himself and made for his quarters.

****************************************************

	He hadn't been there ten minutes when there was a knock on the door.  
Using the Force, he pulled it open, not bothering to rise from his seated position.  
He did not have to look up to see who was standing there.

	"Hello, Tia," he said, his voice calm and gentle.  "Something important? 
Sit down."

	She smiled at him, her best smile, he knew.  He watched as she floated in.  
She took his invitation and sat on a nearby chair, but only allowed herself to sit on 
the edge, as if she were intruding.  She knew he usually meditated about this time 
of day, after lunch.  Generally, he taught some of the more advanced techniques in 
the latter part of the afternoon, after Kam and Streen were finished with the more 
basic ones.  He realized that everyone was feeling a little overloaded because Kyp 
was not here.  But then, he knew the Academy could not rely on Kyp anymore.  
Kyp was a full fledged Jedi and as such, he had obligations to the New Republic.  

	She sighed and he knew, without surprise, she had been looking forward 
to this conversation.  His face held no sign of his thoughts, it was perfect and 
peaceful and her eyes flicked away.  "We received a message this morning, 
although I was not aware of it until now.  It was on a diplomatic encrypt."   She 
held out a small cube and watched as it floated over to a small, plain table where it 
came to rest as if some invisible person had physically taken it from her hand.  She 
looked down, ready to stand and take her leave.  "And, I wanted to know when 
you wanted to get together about the new job allocations.  Some of the older 
students have shown some promise, maybe they could be assistants, or something, 
at least until Kyp gets back."

	He did not move, but remained where he was, sitting as still as rock in 
running water.   He smiled at her, a genuine smile, soft, as friends smile at friends.  
"Kyp is leaving us, Tia," he said quietly.  "He's fully trained now.  He has duties 
elsewhere."

	Tionne gave Luke a hard look, which fell away almost immediately.  Her 
beautiful eyes, wide and intelligent, flashed again, much the same way they had in 
the deserted audience chamber that morning.  "Oh," she replied, a little 
dumbfounded.  "I'm sorry, I didn't know...."

	"No one told you, I understand," Luke put in for her,  suddenly pitying 
her.  She was a human with very little Force sense.  She had only her human 
intuitions to guide her and often it was not enough when dealing with the rising 
Force sensitives all around her.   She began to rise.  "Tia," he began, his tone 
changing.  "Please stay.  We need to talk."

	A sudden whisp of joy flew into her eyes which was immediately replaced 
by wariness.  She drew a breath and felt her heart suddenly pound.  Her mind 
immediately went into a relaxation exercise, but it did little good.  She clasped her 
hands together and held them, one in the other, as if by holding on she could 
avert whatever was coming.

	"It has become apparent....," he began, clearing his throat a little and 
folding his eyes away from her.  He thought for a moment and felt her pulse race 
as he turned his gaze back upon her.  Something inside winced in sympathy.  
"That, well, I seem to be making you..... uncomfortable..... lately," he said, 
wondering why everything always sounded so lame when you finally voiced the 
words.  He looked away, trying to spare her.  "I was wondering if you needed 
some time away from here.  I could arrange to send you to Coruscant.  Perhaps 
you could do some research there.  Or maybe the library at Obra-skai...."

	Her eyes became masked, almost hard.  "But, Master, I'm happy here," she 
said quickly.  "Besides, you need me here.  As the Academy grows....."

	He nodded, a little impatient.  She was not going to go easy.  "I 
understand your concern," he put in, interrupting her.  "But I'm concerned about 
you, Tia, not the Academy right now.  I feel you're under a great strain.  You have 
not left Yavin in years.  Don't you wish to go somewhere else, just for the change 
in scenery?"

	A silence took hold as she grappled with several uncomfortable feelings.  
He stood, turned and gazed out through the room's only window, a long, narrow 
one, cut about man-height into the thick wall.  A rustling noise came and went as 
the feelings roiled and asserted themselves, finally dividing into separate, distinct 
parts.  He turned back, expecting to see the calm face of a Jedi.  Instead, he was 
faced with a woman rapidly breaking into tears.  

	"Why are you sending me away?" she asked simply, now gazing directly 
into his eyes.  Her face held knowledge and the hurt that comes with it. 

	He sighed and came to stand beside her.  A callused hand took hold of her 
shoulder, sending her pulse racing yet again.  But he did not remove it.   "Because 
I can no longer bear your hurt, Tionne," he replied as gently as possible.  "We 
both know I don't love......"

	"I know, I know!" she cried, interrupting, her voice rising in 
uncharacteristic frustration.  "I have been awake nights wondering, thinking, if I 
could only be more in tune with the Force, if I could only become a Jedi, things 
might be different."  She moved suddenly, reaching up to clasp his hand.  "I have 
tried, I have tried, but I remain always with the novice students.  I cannot progress 
any further."  She choked back something like a sob and kept going, as if afraid of 
his objections.  "I thought, maybe now that Callista.... now that Callista is gone...."

	The hand was instantly removed.  "Do you mean because I promised 
Callista that I would love her whether she was a Jedi or not, you hoped it would 
apply to you too?"  He strode away from her, his voice falling in something like 
anger.  He did not see her cringe.  

	"Luke," she began, using his first name, something he had never heard her 
do before, "Luke, I love you...... "A small fright followed this forbidden statement, 
but she swallowed, cast her soul to the winds and moved on. "I've loved you for 
over a year now.  What would be so wrong with us?  We could spend our lives 
together here, on Yavin, teaching Jedi....."

	He turned back to her, and taking her hand, guided her so that she was 
sitting on the asture sleeping pallet.  Then he sat down beside her, still holding her 
hand.  It was his left hand, she noticed, her mind alive with trivia.   She noticed 
how his clothes were old and frayed, and how his face seemed more lined than 
before, and how the blue eyes seemed faded, old beyond their years.  The hand 
squeezed hers and she, suddenly not knowing how to react, blushed deeply.  

	A still silence reigned and then a small movement fell into it.   The 
handclasp tightened.  He did not draw nearer to her, only held put the other hand 
up to hold her face.  She gazed at him with a sudden joy mixed liberally with 
sinking sorrow.  "I can't hurt you, anymore," he said, after the silent time.  "You 
must go."

	"I don't want to go," she whispered.  "I belong here."

	Not really intending for it to happen, Luke took her face and pulled it 
toward his.  The lips touched, the beginnings of passion burning back to the 
passionlessness that he so diligently strived for. His mind, forcing through her 
pitiful barriers, planted a picture in her mind, a hopeless one.  Her mouth moved 
on his and then she withdrew, head bowed, tears trickling down her face. 

	"Now, do you understand?" he asked, his voice gentle and quiet, just like it 
always was.   "You are not Callista.  I still love Callista.  I like you, Tia, you are 
loyal and strong in your way, but I don't love you.  I can never love you."  His face 
fell for a moment, the mask of dispassion uncharacteristically deserting it.  But it 
was only a moment.  Then it returned, settled firmly over the open features.   
"There is nothing you can do to change that." 

	She gazed at his features, almost desperate.  Somehow, she had always 
known it was thus.  Still, she had to try.  And he was right.  He was hurting her.  
"I understand," she whispered, defeated, her voice failing her.  

	He rose and stepped back, watching as she stood, trembling.  She put her 
hands together again, and moved away from the pallet and back toward the door.  
Silently it opened for her, held ghostly and strong as she moved through it, and 
then it closed carefully behind her.   It was only then that Luke sensed Tionne give 
way to the urge and begin running down the stone hall.  The footfalls,  
uncharacteristically noisy, fell away.  He knew she was headed out, to the jungle, to 
be alone. 

	He stood staring at the closed door for a long time.  A shaft of light 
pushed itself through the slit of a window, and then began to pool along the floor, 
moving as the day progressed.  After a motionless time, he sighed and moved a 
stiff leg.  A passing thought faded into his mind as he moved back to his 
customary meditation position.  "If only she were........."

**************************************

	It turned out to be a very long night.   Tionne remained away from the 
Academy for most of it, returning only just before Yavin's rainbowed dawn.  A 
short rain shower had soaked her hours ago, and she shivered now in her sopped 
dress.   It was the quiet hour, the place held perfectly still in the deep silence of 
meditation and sleep.    Shivering, she stepped onto the flagged, stone floor of the 
main audience chamber.   No one was there.  Quickly, she turned, moving slowly 
like an old woman into the night-filled halls, finding her chambers.  To her 
surprise, a light shone from under the door.  And as she approached, it pushed 
open of its own accord.  She halted, stopped in mid-stride.

	The light was low and inviting, and the chamber left an unmistakable 
imprint ........ warm and dry, that's what it was.  She  put a shivering hand up to her 
wet hair, which clung to her head, pushing it back.   Her steps were small, hesitant  
but something pulled her forward, something irresistible.  She found the 
threshold and there, standing in a low light, she saw Luke.  He was dressed in his 
customary black, but his face seemed somehow lighter, an aura was about him, 
one of light and power.   He smiled at her.

	"You've been gone most of the night," he said quietly, extending a hand.  

	She merely nodded, a rush of confusion and joy pummeling through her 
veins.  "I...I needed to think...." she began tilting her head down, not daring to 
glance up at him.

	"I understand," he said, his beloved voice a balm.  "But, you're home 
now," he gestured to a chair.  She noticed that the pallet was unmade, even though 
she had not left it that way.  She glanced up at his face, her eyes wide and 
unbelieving.

	"How long have you been here?"  

	"That doesn't matter.   What matters is that you're home now....."  Luke 
moved toward her, pulling at her hands.  Softly, willingingly she let him.  He 
pulled her across the room, her increasing joy turning oddly aside.   He turned.  
"Here, I thought you might want to change....."

	She blushed.  "Uh, well, I would...." she stammered, but feeling strangely 
unsettled. A red light began to course through her eastward window and a 
birdsong erupted.   Her head lifted, but joy was still muted, quite distant.  
Something felt wrong.  But what could be wrong? she asked herself.  This was 
everything she wanted, everything she had ever hoped for.  Finally the Master, the 
beloved Master, so full of hurt, so scarred, would come to her........  

	Smiling, he turned his back as she changed.  Hastily, she tied her hair with 
a stray ribbon and turned to face him.  Sensing her movement, he moved away 
from the window.  A gentle caressing movement pulled her into his arms and he 
leaned his chin on the top of her head.   His hands slid to her back, pressing 
gently.  Willingingly, she let herself be pulled into him.  She felt the sharp edge of 
his chin in her drying hair.   

	The birdsong became stronger as it was joined by others.  In passing, 
Tionne heard the stirrings of the other students outside her door.   Another day 
was beginning at the Jedi Academy.   A small, dark stirring of the Force held her 
standing, but she wanted to ignore it, wanted to push it away.  He loved her, she 
told herself, searching for delight, with or without the Force, it made no 
difference.  But something tapped insistently, pushing, a weak probing.  She felt a 
tendril from Luke, a dark, shoving  image.   She moved her head as if to see his 
face.  "Luke?" she asked, her voice low, afraid to break the spell.

	There was no answer.  He only pulled her closer, pushing his lips into her 
hair, down her forehead and finally, tilting her face up to his.  He kissed her, his 
lips moving against hers, his face surprisingly young and smooth in the low light.  
But the persistent tapping resumed, resisting all attempts to shove it away.  It 
grew, surrounding by something, surrounded by.....sunlight, no, that wasn't it.  
Maybe the stray, everyday thoughts of a novice or two, still untrained.....but no, 
that wasn't it, either.  

	Reluctantly, she pulled away from Luke, her discomfort becoming 
palatable.  "What's wrong?" he asked softly, caressing her hair.  He ran an 
experimental finger down her nose.  His hand was surprisingly smooth.   

	She resisted him.  "Luke, it's late.  Perhaps we should wait....." she began, 
her voice in half tones.

	"Why?" he was insistent, the insistence of her dreams. "You want me, 
right?  Why not now?"

	She pushed him away, barely able to believe what she was doing.  A part 
of her mind shouted 'no!'  But another part was dark, scrambling, lightless, acting 
only on unexplainable impulse.  "Luke, I just don't think we should do this right 
now.  Besides, what about the students?"

	This produced a frown, and Luke's face studied hers for a moment, his 
silence suddenly quite terrible.   Slowly, as if making a decision, he pushed her 
away.  "I see," his voice was cold, his sense brooding and dark.  She had never felt 
such anger before.  "You are a liar, Tionne.  A liar and a tease."

	Her face paled, but she stood her ground.  "How.....how can you say that?" 
she put in, her voice rising in spite of herself.  She wanted words, any words, but 
instead all she got were feelings.  And the feelings were horrible.  First there was 
anger, then fear, then fright, finally a rising aggression, pounding through the air 
between them, a blackness overtaking bright noon, a coffin closing, dirt clattering 
on wood.  She stepped back, involuntarily holding her arm over her face.

	Luke started toward her, pulling at something at his waist.  She closed her 
eyes and heard the dreaded sound; the lightsaber came alive.  Wincing, she stared 
in disbelief, contemplating in one long second the end of her life at the hands of a 
beloved friend.  But something strange registered in her mind.   What was it?  
What was wrong?   Then it hit her, as if the red lightsaber had already cloven its 
way through her heart.    

	She backed away, her face contorted.  Just at that moment, someone began 
pounding on the door.   A strong, male voice penetrated through the artificial 
quiet.  "Tionne!  Tionne!"  It was Kam, raw panic in his voice.  "Tionne, are you 
alright?  Answer me!"

	Luke pulled the blade up and away.   He made as if to strike and Tionne, 
frozen in her place, made no move to save herself.    Vaguely she could hear the 
door begin to give in its new hinges.  To her surprise, the lightsaber shut down in 
mid-flight.  He wavered, opened his mouth and a horrible scream issued from it.  
The shattered sound battered her bones and she stepped back as he began to 
dissolve as if made out of the very molecules of the air itself.   Seconds later, as 
Kam finally splintered the door with a Force blow,  the figure of Luke had 
completely disappeared.   The only light left in the small room was that of Yavin's 
rainbows, signaling the start of another day.  And the only sound left was that of
exuberant birdsong, mixed with Tionne's quiet weeping.


***********************************************

	Luke was dreaming.  It was raining, the water a heavy, pouring rhythm on 
the stone walls.   There was a sour odor over everything, like mold, or perhaps, 
old blood.  The sharp smell of ozone reminded him clearly of his days with the 
Rebellion, fighting in fragile ships in deep patches of void.  He turned on his 
pallet, sweating in the thin cloth.  Still, he did not awaken, like one who is 
drugged.  He tugged  on a coverlet and settled to sleep.  But the vision would not 
let him go.

	He glanced around.  He was no longer in bed.  Instead he was in a small, 
sleeping chamber of some sort. It was perfectly dark, but somehow he could see as 
clearly as if it were noon.   He gazed around, searching for an identifying marker 
of some sort, searching for a clue.  There.....there in the corner.  There it was.  A 
small black case.  He moved toward it, his footsteps making no sound on the 
floor.  Rugs moved underfoot, first warm then only cold stone.  A hanging 
splayed over one ancient wall, softening the bedchamber.  He knelt beside the 
case.  

	His fingers touched it.  It was made of warm wood, an ancient instrument, 
but well-maintained.  He ran a surprised hand over the wood, searching for the 
textures, for the shapes of the instrument.  He wondered whose it was.  Slowly he 
stood, describing a complete circle, but there was nothing remarkable about the 
place.  It just happened to be someone else's bedchamber.  Making a decision, he 
made for the door, all the better to find his way back.  

	But as he moved toward the door, a dark force  pushed him away.  A low 
light began to grow, almost as if it were organic to the floor.  It acted as a barrier, 
filling the floor with a light that illuminated nothing, with a barrier that blocked 
everything.  Stymied, he backed away and gazed around the room.  There had to 
be a way out.  

	The pallet was made, and he glanced out the slitted window, very much 
like the one in his bedchamber. It had to be after midnight.   Surely, the resident 
of the room would arrive soon.  He took a step back toward the window, wanting 
somehow, more than life, to escape.  This presupposed that there was something 
to escape from.

	That's when he heard it.  A low, rippling laughter, beyond the edge of 
animal hearing.  It was a low voice, mellow and in any other setting it would have 
been attractive and mysterious.   It all sounded somehow familiar.  It described a 
story in his mind, wordless and brutal.  The images were ghastly but he could not 
pull his thoughts away.  Taking a deep breath, once again he moved toward the 
illumined door.   The light pulsated warningly, and  a raw power in the flagged 
stones stopped him in his tracks.  No, it was too strong.  He gritted his teeth and 
concentrated, but even with the Force there was no way to penetrate the barrier.  

	The story repeated itself, the images replaying in his mind's eye like an 
abominable fairy tale.  Tionne, that was it.  This was Tionne's room.  

	His eyes flicked around, suddenly recognizing various articles scattered 
here and there.  Tionne, who was heartbroken. The images portrayed a weeping 
woman in the jungle just beyond the lights of the Academy, shivering after the 
rain. He was waiting for Tionne.  His mind quieted, but then a single thought 
froze his blood.  Why?  He pitied her, certainly, although he hated himself for 
doing it.  That was it he hated......but what did he hate?  Why would he hate 
Tionne?  No, no that wasn't it.   He sat down on the pallet, thinking.    The slow 
images resolved themselves in the heavy air.  He loved her, that was it.  He loved 
Tionne. 

	And that's why he was here, he reasoned.   But he felt as if something was 
missing, some crucial clue or circumstance.   Still, Tionne, with her ethereal voice, 
her light, brilliant hair, her graceful glide, her devotion.  She had offered herself to 
him, that very afternoon.  How could he have turned her down?

	A compulsion moved him, made him stand.  Quietly, as if he did this 
everyday, he pulled the sleeping cloths down, invitingly.   Then he went to wait by 
the light barrier, all the better to explain it all to her when she finally arrived.  

	He felt her presence as she entered the temple.  Her steps were wounded, 
almost as wounded as her soul.  He felt her shiver and longed to throw a warm 
blanket around those cold, slender shoulders.  He felt her hesitation as she stood 
outside her door.   To make her comfortable, he opened the door himself, the 
Force working effortlessly this time.  She stood on the threshold, shivering, her 
hair plastered flat on her head.  He smiled, he felt the smile, and  felt Tionne's 
shocked reaction.

	She began to talk, he began to answer.  Quietly her touched her hands.  
They were cold, shivering, trembling.  He waited as she changed.  His soul felt at  
peace, somehow, now he could sleep.  But no, now he was holding her, feeling her 
fragile body under his hands.  Everything was perfect, a perfect dawn.   But then, 
her felt her hesitate.  

	A dark, brooding rage flew through him, melting his peace.  The light 
flickered as she backed away from him.   A rippling laughter was heard again, that 
voice, that low voice...this time there were words there.  It was an odd inflection, 
not one he had heard in a long time.    He strained, pushing Tionne away.   'The 
lightsaber' the voice whispered, just on the sleep-edge of hearing.  'Use the 
lightsaber.....'  The inflection again.....a kind of clipped accent..........  

	He felt the lightsaber at his belt, pulled it out and activated it, all in one 
easy, practiced motion.  The blade ran up its length, lethal and beautiful.  He 
gazed at it, and realized, all in one cold, falling vision, what was happening.  Luke 
screamed in his sleep, screamed through the Force, screamed at the scarlett, hovering blade.  

	He saw Tionne freeze as he lifted it.  Red light shimmered in the cold light 
of the stones.  He felt himself begin the swing downward.  Tionne made no move, 
neither screamed nor even uttered so much as a murmur of resistance. She only 
gazed in blank shock at the blade.   A sickening downswing began to build in his 
back muscles, even as he tried to halt the momentum, to  pull the blade back.   

	But then, something in the Force blindsided him,  pulled him away.  A 
great noise fell all about him, like an ancient temple crumbling in an earthquake.  
Laughter greeted him again as he struggled through the terrifying darkness.  He 
reached out with the Force, but found it only boomeranged back at him with 
triple momentum.  He stumbled in the darkness and fell to his knees.   The 
laughter became louder.  Where before it had been a hum in his mind, a slight 
pause in the chain of reality, now it was an actual sound, identifiable and perfectly 
clear. 

	'Luke,' the laughter murmured.  A chain of orange letters floated as words 
into his mind.  There were words there, words he used to know, a voice common 
to his aching ears, a beloved voice.   The humming began to fade and he felt very 
strongly, Kam Salusar's presence in the Force.  A pure, white light shone around 
the Jedi, blanching the stones.  Luke screamed again, tried to say the name, but 
words would not come, only a terrifying feeling of abandonment.   Kam's figure 
became brighter, his face melting into Luke's sleep-scarred consciousness.  The 
murmuring fell.

	But just before it hummed itself back into the molecular structure of the 
Universe, just before Kam grabbed him physically through the Force, a note, a 
linguistic tag, a word ending, reverberated, clipped and unusual.   It reminded him 
of something.  His overloaded mind slid into the light.  Something about water 
and a farm, salted waves blowing freely into his face.   It was an ocean..... vast, 
light, free.....

	Luke sat up in his sweat-soaked pallet, wide awake all in one terrifying 
instant.  His mind was shaking with white-light clarity, his soul completely frozen.  
He opened his eyes, able to see organically for the first time.  He saw Streen 
standing over him, fright showing plainly in the old man's lined face.  A far away 
pounding reverberated through the old stone walls and he heard a wooden door 
break under incredible force. 

	And then something vanished.  A humming not noticed until it was gone, 
a voice, a way of laughing, familiar and strange.  Orange letters shaping into whole 
words......  There was a dark, smoky ship, and a low light on a staff.   He could feel 
the hot wind in his face as Beggar's Canyon flew beneath him; he was late and he 
took the familiar corners with risk, flying over blurred scrub.   And then there was 
water, a heaven of blue water all around.  A breeze ruffled his hair and he glanced 
around, but he was alone.   There was a name there, a name he should remember.  
But, as he closed his eyes to think, all sound vanished.  He awoke to utter 
darkness, complete silence.   Weakness seized him and, unable to struggle any 
longer, he closed his eyes and gave himself to it. 

****************************************************

	Kyp glanced up as Leia Organa Solo entered the room.  She had been up 
all night and it showed.  Her long hair, usually so impeccably done, was pulled 
into a lose tail down her back, as if  left by swift, busy hands.  Her small figure  
was dressed in  a clean tunic and pants, but her face was haggard and pinched, 
almost gray.  She sat, a determination settling over her like so much sunburn from 
a day at the beach.  He straightened.

	"Have you heard from Yavin, yet?" she asked, her voice weary.  

	Kyp nodded and turned to face her.  "Master Skywalker tried to kill 
Tionne last night, or early this morning.  Kam and Streen stopped him."  
Although the words were brutal, his voice remained neutral.  

	Leia sighed and dropped her head into her arms.   "I know, I know.  But 
there has to be more to it than that," she said, her voice muffled.  Why would 
Luke try to kill Tionne?   What possible reason could he have?"

	Kyp thought an answer but chose not to articulate it.  His small face, still 
boyish, registered no change, but she glanced up at him, not at all fooled.

	"Don't try that with me, Durron.  You forget, I'm a Jedi too."

	Kyp dipped his head in respect.  "Of course, I am forgetting," he said, 
clearing this throat and moving nervously in his chair.  "What do you want to 
know?"

	Leia turned in the chair, so that her face was away from him.  She seemed 
to be studying the daylight that was beveled through a far window.  It all appeared 
so plain and everyday, so ordinary.  She held a silence, momentarily thinking, 
assessing.  Then she turned back to him, looking him directly in the eye.  He began 
to realize why this slight woman was considered one of the toughest bargainers in 
the galaxy.  

	"First of all, is there anything going on between them?"  Her question was 
forceful, almost too blunt.

	He flushed.  "I don't think so, Your Highness," Kyp replied, a little 
flustered.  There had been rumors, of course.  But he never really thought.....

	"Don't call me that," she said evenly.  "And I have heard several things to 
the contrary, from reliable sources.  Sources who never lie," she went on, rather 
relentless.  "I hear they've been close for over six months now.  She visits his 
room at night, things like that."

	"What of it?" Kyp replied, rather offended at her seeming intrusiveness.  
"I think she's the one who's in love, not him.  I think he's still waiting for 
Callista."

	A small gesture of contempt greeted this opinion.  "Callista!"  The word 
was a curse.  Kyp was astonished.  Leia was good, very good.  Only someone 
strong in the Force could have been so successful in hiding her true feelings about 
Luke's time with Callista.  A new respect snaked a small tendril into his mind, 
breeding uncertainty and, maybe, a little fear.  

	"That's what I think, Ma'am," he said quickly, standing his ground.  

	Another sigh, another forehead in hands position.   For a moment, she 
replied nothing, only thought.  Kyp kept his mind to himself, waiting. "I suppose 
you're right, though," she put in after a time, her voice breaking a little.  "Callista 
is in his heart, if not his bed."

	Kyp gave her a hard look.  "What are you saying, Ma'am?

	She smiled at him this time, now an adult addressing an overcompliant 
child.  "'Leia' will do, Jedi Durron."  

	He winced.  "I understand," he replied.  "And what do you mean?"

	She moved in the chair, her hands making an aimless design on the table.  
"I realize that he's still pining after Callista.  I'm not stupid, you know, nor as easy 
to block out as he thinks.  I'm not really concerned about that right now.  What I 
want to know," and here her words became rather hard, even intimidating, "is 
Tionne sharing his bed?"

	This produced a full, standard minute of silence as Kyp thought and she 
looked.  The young Jedi licked his lips, which were suddenly quite dry.  "I only 
know what I see.  I have never witnessed her in his rooms.  I have heard a great 
deal of rumor, most of which is pure speculation," he said quietly.  He could not 
lie to a Jedi so strong as Leia Organa Solo, nor could he, in good conscience, lie to 
the beloved sister of his Master.  

	But a thought popped into his mind.  She grimaced.  "I know, " she 
replied to it, even though it was unspoken.  "This would provide a good reason 
for his actions." Here she shook her head, "Although, it's so unbelievable......."  
She choked a little, a small sound rising from her throat.  He looked away.  Her 
pain, so well camouflaged, was roiling as a storm tossed ocean, ready to break 
down her careful barriers.  

	Kyp turned back to the small woman. "A lover's quarrel?" he asked, 
verbalizing a question that Leia could hardly bring herself to think, much less say. 

	Leia stood.  "Yes," she replied simply, glad she had not had to voice the 
words.  "Still, he must be brought to Courscant."  She hesitated, gathering 
strength.  "This matter must be investigated," she said quickly, covering whatever 
disgust she might have felt. 

	Kyp's brows knitted with an unspoken question.  She glanced at him and 
smiled sadly.  "I am the Chief of State, Kyp.  My brother and I cannot be seen as 
above the law.   The last regime had far too much of that sort of thing.  And it's 
been established, even at this early date, that he attempted to murder Tionne, in 
what appears to be cold blood."  She stood and turned back toward the beveled 
light.  It was dim and unhelpful.  "By the way, where is Tionne?" she asked 
casually, as if they were speaking of a relative's new baby or a new hairstyle.     

	"Kam put her aboard the first transport out.  She'll be here tomorrow."

	"What kind of state is she in?"  Leia asked, her voice careful.

	"She fell into a coma about ten minutes after Kam broke down the door.  
She's been that way ever since."

	Leia frowned.  "I don't suppose there's any way I could talk to her when 
she arrives," she said, as if thinking aloud.  

	Kyp stood.  "Maybe Cilghal can help," he said, his voice rising with a small 
hope.

	Leia smiled quickly at him. "True, I was forgetting about her.  She's here, 
now, isn't she?"

	Kyp smiled back, but his face was sad, weary with no sleep and worry. "At 
the medical research facility.  She's been doing research on Jedi healing 
techniques."

	Leia glanced toward the door.  Kyp could see Han Solo there, standing 
back, waiting for his wife.  He wondered if her husband had come to take her 
home.  She smiled again.  "You're broadcasting well, today," she said, a little 
amused.  "Yes, he's made me cancel all the rest of my appointments today, much 
to the dismay of the Delortorinian delegation," she replied, rather flippant, he 
thought.  "He maintains he's going to knock me out himself, if he has to, just to 
get me to go to bed."  There was a wry smile for that.

	Kyp smiled back at her, catching the feelings that went with the words.  
"You're very lucky, ....Leia..."

	Leia smiled genuinely this time.  "No kidding," she replied, not sarcastic at 
all.  And with that she moved toward the door.  

***********************************

	The news spread fast, especially since one of the tabloid, net reporters got 
a hold of it before the Solo household was able to release anything official.   Han 
released a short statement, but it mattered nothing against the raging speculation 
that now flowed through the government at Coruscant, much as a flash flood 
pushes its way through a dry canyon.  Kyp, now holed up in his quarters, kept 
trying to reach Kam, or Streen, or even the Master himself.  But he was the 
blocked.  The Force was dark.   Daylight paced through the windows, becoming 
afternoon, then evening.  He stood from his sitting position, his legs stiff  and 
hobbled toward the door.   There was a soft knock there, or at least he thought 
there was.     

	"Glad you can still hear," Han Solo said, inviting himself in.  

	Kyp smiled, the first genuine smile he had given to anyone in what felt like 
an eternity.  "I've been trying to reach the Academy...." he began, gesturing 
slightly.

	"No luck, huh?" Han replied, knowing not to ask why Kyp wasn't down in 
communications.   "You think they're still there?"

	Kyp shrugged.  "There's no way to tell.  Kam only said that they'd try to 
get him here as soon as possible.  That was yesterday."

	Solo's heart blackened. This was a tremendous blow, to Luke personally of 
course, to Leia and the children, but perhaps it was most damaging to the New 
Republic.  A great deal of the government's sense of integrity was tied to the 
revived Jedi Knight movement.  And now this........  He sighed.   

	Kyp studied his old friend's face.  Han's handsome features were lined and 
pinched and the pleasant contenance he had begun to acquire over recent years 
had vanished.  Now, more than ever, he looked the rogue, the scoundrel, the 
pirate, a loner.   "You need to talk?"  .

	Han nodded and Kyp closed the door.   Han settled himself into one of 
the chairs in the suite and Kyp sat in another. Han studied the curtained windows 
for a moment, as if drawing his thoughts together.  "Leia's frantic," he said finally, 
after paced silence.  

	"I know," Kyp replied.  

	Han smiled wryly.  "I forgot.  She saw you first chance she got......a lot of 
good it did though....."

	Kyp shrugged.   "Jedi aren't infallible," he said, neutral.

	"Why can't you get through to Yavin?" Han's voice took on an edge as he 
looked up from his clasped hands.

	Kyp frowned and Han could see that this disturbed him.  "I'm not too 
sure. It's not something I can really explain.  It's as if Yavin doesn't even exist in 
the Force....." A hesitation overtook the young man as he sought the words.

	"You don't think it's been destroyed, do  you?" Han said, half rising, a 
startled edge of panic beginning to rise.  

	Kyp shook his head.  "Don't worry, I think I'd know if Yavin were 
destroyed.  It's just......blocked, somehow." 

	"Uhmm, " Han said, for want of anything better.  He glanced around 
again, and then down at the clenched hands.  The knuckles showed white as he 
moved his thumbs, one over the other.  He frowned.  Kyp waited.  

	"Uh, how do they plan to get him here?"  It was a general question.  And 
it was rife with a number of uncomfortable assumptions.  

	Kyp's voice remained neutral and his expression did not change.  "They 
wanted to use Ysalamiri, but they were not able to locate any nearby.  There was 
talk of an enforced trance....."

	Han looked up, scowling.  "What does that mean?"

	Kyp sighed and felt the other's despair.  "It means that either Streen or 
Kam puts him into a trance and is in control of it until they arrive....."

	Han stood up at that, unable to bear it any longer. "And what then?  How 
are they going to control Luke, if he's really crazy?"  He raised his hands, looking 
at them, as if seeing them for the first time.  "What am I saying?   How could this 
happen?!" he said, his voice angling under the strain.  "To Luke, of all people!  
And Tionne!  I know she's never been strong with the Force, but still, she's got a 
little ability, she must have....."

	Kyp remained where he was, quite still.  "She has a great deal of ability, 
more than most.  She's just in an environment where her abilities are washed out 
by the greater abilities of others.  In an other place, she'd be considered quite 
strong....."

	Han began to pace, his long legs swallowing whole sections of the room as 
he turned and turned again.  "Do you think they were......?" he asked, as if he really 
wanted to know.

	"Your wife didn't put you up to this, did she?" Kyp's voice held no humor 
whatsoever.

	Han gave Kyp a flat smile.  "Believe me, if she could, she would, although 
I'm sure you're aware that she doesn't  trust you."

	"Well, would you, if you were her?"

	Han stopped moving and gave Kyp a hard look.  "You've grown up a lot  
haven't you?"

	Kyp smiled, but it was a sad smile.  "Yes I have, and I have a lot to answer 
for.  And it's mostly through the Master's efforts that I was able to continue my 
training....."

	Han nodded, giving in to something and sitting again. "We've received no 
transmissions from Yavin except the original one, the one about Tionne.   They 
did ask for a Ysalamir but the only person who could possibly locate one would 
probably be Talon Karrde."

	"Uhmmm," Kyp said.  "Then somebody needs to contact Mara Jade."

	"Actually, that's not too hard.  She just happens to be here, on Coruscant.  
Something to do with the Smuggler's Alliance."  Han gave Kyp a rather oblique 
look.  "Listen, Mara's not exactly an open book, so I don't know if there's anything 
wrong with the Alliance or what, or even if this is one of the 'coincidences' that 
you.....Jedi...." the word fell from his mouth, almost as if he had never heard it 
before, "seem to experience so often."  

	Kyp's small facial features perked up, the mask of neutrality falling away.  
"Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked, feeling slightly foolish.

	Han's voice, despite everything, held a glimmer of humor. "You never 
asked.  Besides," he said, standing, "aren't you people supposed to be able to 'feel' 
each other, or however you refer to it?"

	Kyp shook his head.  "I didn't have a clue.  I guess I was too focused on 
trying to get in touch with Yavin."

	Han headed for the door.  "Well, I've got to make sure Leia's still where I 
left her......Besides, I think there's somebody you need to look up."  Han reached 
into a vest pocket, pulling out a small data card.  "The information's here.  She's 
staying in a room in the old wing of the palace.  I figure  she's there about now, if 
you want to give her a buzz."

	Kyp smiled affectionately.  "Thanks, Han," he said.

	Han paused at the door. "Don't thank me.  It was Leia's idea.  Just find 
out what's going on with Luke."  He flashed a farewell with his dark eyes and he 
was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.  

	Kyp stood, shaking his head.  Then he rose from his chair pacing to sit at 
the computer console, keying up the information on the data card.  He played 
with the idea of trying to raise Jade the Jedi way, but thought the better of it.   If 
she was as temperamental as she was reputed to be, he figured he should play it 
safe.  He keyed up the communications console and punched in the code.

***********************************************

	After several wrong turnings, Kyp reached Jade's room only fifteen 
minutes late.  Stoically the door opened but no one stood next to it.  Kyp smiled, 
his best smile.  He'd met Mara before, of course, but outside of a few stilted 
pleasantries, had never had any real occasion to speak with her.  She was dressed 
for an evening out, elegant in a showy thing of green, a sparkling jewel setting it 
off.  Her green eyes were distant, wary and knowing.  She signaled him to sit.

	"Let me guess," she said quietly, glass in hand, coming to sit across from 
him.  "Ysalamiri, right?"

	Kyp, prepared not to be surprised, was surprised anyway. "Yes...." he 
replied hesitantly.   

	"Where is he?" she asked, leaning a little forward and putting both feet flat 
on the floor.  It was an old fashioned room, the wooden floor shone quietly in the 
evening light, a precious and rare rug contrasting warmly with it. He did not have 
to ask to whom she was referring. 

	"I'm not too sure," Kyp replied, feeling very young.  "Kam said they were 
going to get him off Yavin as soon as possible."

	"Why?" she asked simply.

	He glanced at her face and answered the question.  "He tried to kill 
Tionne....

	She made a gesture of contempt, snorting as she did so.  "Do you really 
believe that?" she asked, incredulous.  "That's a load of......" she glanced at him and 
swallowed the word.  "You know damn well that Skywalker would never do 
anything like that, under any circumstances.  There's gotta be something else to 
this."

	Kyp gazed at her, at her lovely face, elegant and intelligent in the 
comfortable light.  "Then, what's going on?"


	"First, I have some questions," she said, leaning back.  

	He nodded.  "Sure," he replied, quickly.

	"First off, do you believe any of this......this....business about Tionne?"  she 
asked, her face and voice hard. 

	Kyp slumped in his seat, feeling weary.  Suddenly he was tired, tired of the 
questions, tired of the speculations, tired of trying figure it all out.  "I don't 
know...." he began.

	"That isn't what I asked," she interrupted.  "I asked if you believe any of 
it."

	He matched her gaze, his dark eyes to her green ones.  "No, I don't," he 
said, with more confidence than he actually felt.

	She smiled grimly.  "Good.  Because I don't believe it either."   She looked 
away and took a sip out of an elegant glass at her side.  "Would you like some?" 
she offered, as if his being there was the most natural thing in the world.  

	He shook his head.  "No, I'm not thirsty."

	"No doubt, some ascetic, Jedi thing," she said, a shade sarcastic.

	He did not smile.  She sighed.  "I don't believe he was in love with 
Tionne," she said quietly, continuing.  "I think, however, that she thought she was 
in love with him.  Is this making sense so far?"

	Kyp nodded, a little mesmerized.  

	"Good.  Something happened, but not what everyone thinks happened.  I 
really don't think the two of them had much to do with it."

	He frowned.  "How can that be?" he asked, confused.  "He was there with 
her, in her room...."

	She stood, a snap of impatience glinting in the green eyes.  "No he wasn't! 
Don't you listen to the 'net?"

	He shook his head, mystified.  "No.  Why should I?"

	"Jedi!" she said, her usual curse.  "Listen, Kyp, in order to know what's 
going on, sometimes you have to get your head out of the clouds and do what the 
rest of the galaxy does; listen to the news."

	He only nodded. She could see he had no idea where she was going with 
this.  She realized she had to change her approach.

	"Listen," she said, settling herself back into the chair.  "The only person in 
Tionne's room was Tionne herself.  Luke was asleep in his room.  Physically, he 
was never anywhere near Tionne."

	"Then why did she see Luke?"

	"Because who or whatever was masquerading as Luke wanted her to...."

	"But, that implies a......"

	"Set-up," she finished the thought for him, pulling another sip from her 
glass and leaning forward.  "Follow me now?"

	He frowned again, his brows puckered over his smooth nose.  "But who 
would do a thing like that to Master Skywalker?"

	Mara Jade studied the young face before him and resisted a very 
compelling urge to burst out laughing.  She only smiled thinly, a great show of self 
control.   "About half the galaxy, I'd say," she replied slowly.

	"Then," he said  in a low voice, "then....... Master Skywalker's not crazy...."

	She leaned back in the chair and stamped one impeccably clad foot.  
"Finally, he gets it!"  She gazed at him for a moment, the green eyes snapping. 
"What's wrong with you people?  Is it written in the Jedi Code that you're 
supposed to believe everything you hear?"

	He merely smiled sheepishly, shaking his head.  A sudden light feeling 
came upon him, as if he had been freed of some burden he didn't even know he'd 
had.  "I just assumed...."

	"You should never assume anything," she put in quickly.  "But, enough of 
this.  We've got to figure out what's really going on here.  Did Skywalker ever say 
anything while he was asleep, mutter something, a name perhaps?" she asked, 
leading him.

	He glanced away, thinking.  "According to Streen, all he did was scream, 
which was frightening enough," Kyp replied, shuddering.  

	"Hummm, pretty powerful stuff, whatever's going on...." she said, as if 
thinking aloud. Her gaze snapped back.  "Anyway, still think you'll need those 
Ysalamiri?"

	Kyp smiled, sincerely this time.  "No, I don't think so," he said with new 
confidence.

	She smiled back, an evil grin.  "Good, because Karrde's incognito right 
now, so you'd have to go the Myrkr yourself if you wanted them."  She did not say 
anything but the mental picture of a shipload of Jedi landing on Myrkr almost 
made her burst out laughing again.  She glanced at a chron.  "I'm gonna be late, so 
I'd better go.  Tionne's ship's coming in within the next two standard hours.  I 
think Kam and Skywalker will be right behind her.  They'll probably put them in 
the med center, under restraints," she said, grinning again.

	Kyp gave her a mystified look.  "How do you know?"

	She only winked at him.  "Smugglers have their sources.  And not all 
Jedi," she gestured to a half-hidden lightsaber, "are as naive as you are, Kyp." 

	He smiled back at her, suddenly liking her a great deal.  "Thanks, Mara."

	She waved him toward the door.  "I'm late.  I'm gonna lose money on this 
as it is.  Get over to the port and meet those ships.  I'll catch up with you."

****************************************************


Samizdat - Chapter 2 -- 
Coruscant, Medical Research Center


	Cilghal raised her head, gave what passed for a sideways look to Leia, and 
turned back to the diagnostic table.  Kam Salusar and Kyp Durron stood off to 
one side, silent.  A color palette of bright lines ran soft, then bright, on the 
console.  Leia stared hard at it, as if by the strength of her gaze alone, she could 
conjure up some image of what was happening, what had to be happening inside 
the two humans, laying prone and unconscious in two separate rooms, on two 
brightly lit beds.  A torrent of diagnostic sound filtered through a force field, its 
energy flickering only when someone inadvertently got too close to it.   The 
sounds rose and fell, like some mechanical beast breathing in an ominous, 
technological cave.    

	Cilghal broke the silence as she came forward, to just where the energy 
field began.  Again she glanced at the human woman in front of her, waiting and 
weary.   The dark eyes were haunted, though the hair was now neatly braided.  The 
Chief of State was dressed for a party, but her restrained garment was forgotten as 
she simply stood, motionlessness surrounding her, surrounding them, three Jedi, 
all like statues of  the dead standing only to empty homage.  

	Cilghal, Jedi herself, motioned at a sensor embedded in the wall.  It purred 
and she moved through from the protected space into the waiting area.  A short 
rustle greeted her motion, as all qx three moved closer together, gathering.  The 
Mon Calarmari gestured quietly, a meaningful gesture for humans, but for her 
only a learned response.  She nodded in Leia's direction.       

	"Tionne is still comatose," Cilghal said quietly.  

	"Is she hurt?"  This was Kyp, frowning.  

	Cilghal turned to him.  "She has sustained no injuries," she replied 
quickly.  "Do you wish to attempt awakening?"

	The three looked at each other, a long moment, then Leia stepped 
forward.  "Yes," she said.  "But first, what about Luke?"

	Cilghal made no motion, but something about her manner became wary.  
"Master Skywalker is not responsive at this time," she said, an uncertainty 
straining through her soft, watered voice.   

	Leia's gaze wandered back over to the diagnostic panel.  "But the panel 
indicates he's....."

	Cilghal responded immediately, her words flowing into the sterile air of  
the room.  "He is alive but he, too, is in a comatose state."  She faced Kam again.    
"It was you?"

	Again Kam nodded, gesturing quietly.  Cilghal regarded him with some 
sort of unreadable, Calamarian stare.  "Perhaps I should examine you also, Jedi 
Salusar."

	Kam closed his eyes, suddenly wanting only rest; deep, cleansing rest.  The 
world seemed dark, as if someone had turned out the lights in the room, or  like 
deep winter in the polar regions........ "I'm fine, I just  need sleep," he said, opening 
his eyes.  "What do you want to know?"

	Cilghal looked unbelieving but went along with it.  "Was Master 
Skywalker conscious when you entered the trance with him?"

	Kam sighed seeming, momentarily, to back away from the question.  "If he 
had been, I don't think I would've been able to keep him under."   His eyes were 
strained for a moment, but, glancing at the others, he continued, "I didn't sense 
his consciousness, Cilghal."

	At this, Leia's face lost its heavy mask and her eyes held a quick, fleeting, 
overwhelming fear.  She closed her eyes, hanging on to that control, that Jedi 
serenity that so marked her brother, that made her so invulnerable.   The other 
three, abashed by such a strong show of emotion, stepped back, as if pushed 
physically away from the small woman in the evening gown. A moment passed, a 
walk on a tightrope all in the blink of an eye, and she opened her eyes again.   
They were dark, beautiful and calm. 

	Kyp glanced with unsullied admiration at her, but she did not appear to 
notice.  "I'll  see Tionne first," she said.

******************************************

	Cilghal closed her eyes, bringing her formidable, mental powers to bear.  
A mild stimulant had been applied to Tionne's flaccid arm and the festive colors 
on a small, diagnostic panel pulsated in something akin to a reading of actual 
consciousness.   Cilghal stepped back. and glanced at Leia.   "Are you ready?"

	Leia gathered herself and put a deft hand into Tionne's.  Quietly, as if 
falling into a light sleep, she let herself go, feeling a strong wave of disorientation 
as she touched Tionne's mind. She resisted the urge to let go as a wave of pure 
fright bombarded her.  Slowly, slowly she pushed it away, willing it gone, 
vanished.  It faded, a thunderstorm falling into ragged clouds on a spring day.  
Tionne's head moved.

	Cilghal put a delicate hand on Leia's arm and held still, supporting the 
minds as they flowed back toward consciousness and control.  Leia's strong 
presence, a bright light in the Force, filtered through Tionne's weak and bruised 
mind, calling her out of reluctant darkness.   But Tionne was resistant to returning 
to the world of words and light.   It was as if the mind fled, searching for places to 
hide as children do when they play a seeking game at twilight.   The consciousness 
flitted, a quicksilver thing, from one barrier to the next, vanishing and reappearing 
all in one easy motion.   Cilghal tightened her grip and Leia frowned reflexively.  

	A burst of noise from the pulsating panel signaled a resurgence, an 
awakening.  Pain began to filter through Tionne's mind.  Leia felt the emotions 
flowing, riverwater in murky flood.   She felt Tionne's hope, her fleeting 
happiness, a deepening, unwilling suspicion giving way to wariness, then finally 
trembling, paralyzing fear.    Leia saw the red blade fly up through a gray darkness, 
saw her brother's face, its purity ripped and sullied.  A red light shone in torrid 
background, rainwater dribbled from somewhere and a keening, rising cry angled 
up through night.  Or was it dawn?   The cry was swallowed whole by a ripping 
darkness  as Luke faded, dissolving into the very air.  

	Tionne sat up and shouted something.  At the same moment, Leia 
shuddered and stepped backward, almost falling into Cilghal who supported her 
for a rising second.  The link was broken. Tionne sat, staring, tears washing over 
her fragile face.  Leia, regaining her balance, merely stood, gazing back at the 
erstwhile Jedi, an expression of shock fading to understanding.  Cilghal bowed her 
head. 

	Outside, in the waiting room, Kyp moved toward the energy field, to be 
forcibly held by Kam in a moment of complete helplessness.  "No!" Kam said, the 
unspoken word flying like hot coals through the energized air.  Kyp only 
struggled, but seconds later, he held still, sensing, regular, pulsating consciousness; 
like thumping heartbeat on a clear night.  Pain knifed through and he realized  
Tionne was conscious.

	"Let go," Kyp whispered, glancing down at the hand on his forearm.

	"She's alright," Kam replied, his hand falling away.  

	Kam merely nodded, but Kyp instantly knew the other Jedi's uncertainty.  
He did not bother to reply.  He felt the same way.

*******************************************

	Cilghal retreated from the table as Leia moved back toward it.  Tionne 
remained straight-backed, but her eyes had begun to blink and the expression on 
her face registered surprise.  Tears streaked down her cheeks and she put a 
trembling hand up to push at a stray hair.  It stopped as she felt the surgical 
headcovering.  She fingered it, experimentally, and gazed around her, squinting.  
Cilghal said something soft and the lights dimmed to a more comfortable setting.  

	Tionne glanced around, eyes wary and frightened.   She jerked, startled as 
she recognized Leia.  Involuntarily, she moved away and handed for what Leia 
could only assume was a lightsaber.  But her small hand clutched at thin air.   She 
blinked and opened her mouth to speak.

	"Luke?" she said, her voice was weak but quite normal.  Her lips began to 
tremble.

	"No, not Luke, Tionne," Leia said tenderly, as if talking a to frightened 
child  

	The voice became more agitated.  "Luke!  Where's Luke!  He was right 
here, talking to me, but then..... then........"

	Leia was there, she saw what Tionne saw.  "No, no, Tionne it's not real!  
Luke's....."

	But Tionne rushed on, babbling.  "There was a sword and a light and, 
maybe, sunrise......."  She turned a face, blanched of all color, to Leia's.  "Did you 
see it too?"

	Leia did not hesitate.  "Yes, I did, Tionne," she said, a mother to a child.  
"But it's gone now, you can sleep."  

	Tionne's face grew unbelieving.  "Sleep?" she asked, as if she had never 
heard the word before.

	"Sleep," Leia repeated if it were a mantra.   A quiet feeling descended as 
the agitated woman turned inward on herself, her eyes closing slowly, unwillingly.   
Leia helped her lay back on the diagnostic bed.  Tionne's body fell limp, washed 
out and rag weak.  A breathless moment passed and then her breath became 
regular and quiet.  Leia glanced at Cilghal.  

	The Jedi merely nodded, watching.  Leia smiled.  In the outer room, Kam 
turned to Kyp, smiling in relief, but his friend, too, was asleep.

******************************
	Cilghal  allowed Leia to return to her living quarters very early in the 
morning.   The children were long asleep and she knew that Han should be.  One 
of them had to be coherent the next day and she knew it wasn't going to be her.  
She smiled quickly at a guard, keyed a lock and sighed deeply as the door slid shut 
with a satisfying *click.*   Quite suddenly, she put a trembling hand up to catch 
the wall and another reached out to take it, startling her.

	"What....?" she said, her voice rising.

	Another came after it, pulling her.  She smiled sadly.  It looked like Han 
wasn't going to be coherent either.  He pulled her to him and they turned for the 
kitchen.  She allowed herself to be pulled along, her head on his shoulder, her face 
a study in exhaustion.  He deposited her gently at a small table and produced a 
warm, mellow beverage.  Quietly, he slid a chair over next to hers, allowing her to 
lean against him as she sipped at the lemon scented mellowness.  For a time, all 
was silent.

	"We almost couldn't reach her," she said finally, placing the cup carefully 
on the table.

	He stroked the hair away from her sweat-soaked face.  "Were you able to 
get anything out of her?"

	She lifted her head to the caressing movement and furrowed her brow.  
"Most of it, some things still aren't clear,"  She sighed and put a hand to the back 
of her neck.  "I don't doubt that she remembers everything, I just don't trust our 
technique.  It's as if....." she searched for the word, puzzling at the cup in her 
hand.   "It's like there's something there, matching our every move, something we 
can't shake....."

	He looked puzzled.  "What do you mean?"

	She did not look at him.  "Just that.  Something's at work, and, I'm 
beginning to believe that something actually attacked her......"

	"Was she able to confirm what Kam said?" he asked, not too sure if he 
really wanted to know.
	
	There was a melancholy sigh.  "From what we've been able to gather, 
unfortunately,  she did.  As far as she's concerned, it was definitely Luke."

	A silence haunted them for a time as they both considered the situation.  
"Han?" she said at last, lifting her face to his.  "Do you really think Luke could do 
this?"

	Han's face settled and the closed, smuggler's expression she remembered 
from their early time together made him seem younger.  "I don't know, Leia," he 
replied, his voice only feeling its way.  "All I know is that Luke can't tell us, and 
the only person who can, you don't trust."

	She looked straight ahead, not reassured.  He watched her face for a 
moment and then, pulling her gently to a standing position, led her off to bed and 
the black, lightless sleep that comes with exhaustion.

**************************************

	The next day, late, Leia waited in her personal conference room.   The 
beveled window, now showing the weak light of afternoon, glimmered stately to 
one side.  Cilghal was there, along with Kam Salusar.  Han Solo remained off to 
one side, Chewbacca taking up a large space at the back.  Mara Jade entered the 
room, in her usual uniform of comfortable flight suit.  She nodded at the Chief of 
State, graced everyone else in the room with a sharp gaze and sat down.  

	Leia turned back toward the table and the door clicked into a locked 
position.  The anteroom disappeared behind it as she gave it a sharp glance.  
Turning, she drew a breath and began.  "I want to thank you all for coming on 
such short notice," she said pleasantly, noting Mara particularly.   She sighed.  
"And, as you all know, we have a problem on Yavin.  I have summoned the Jedi 
here to give me a preliminary explanation.  Perhaps, with a little brainstorming" 
she smiled quickly, "we can avert more trouble.  However, I believe a legal 
investigation will begin shortly...."

	"Have any charges been filed?"  This came from Mara, who had leaned 
back in her uncomfortable chair, her green eyes hooded.

	Leia sighed.  "No, not officially.  But an investigation is due to begin 
today.  That's when the committee representative will reach Yavin IV."  She gave 
Kam a look.

	"They've already arrived," he put in.  His voice was tired, but his eyes were 
clear.

	"Good," Leia said.  "Then, let's get on with it."  She paused, collecting 
herself.  "As you all know by now, I had a disturbing vision several days ago, 
regarding my brother and the woman, Tionne.  My husband," she smiled wryly 
here, apologizing with her voice, "was up with me most of the night because of it, 
and if any lapses occurred because of that, I want to take this opportunity to 
apologize."  

	A general nodding greeted this statement.

	She smiled mirthlessly to herself and moved on.  "At any rate, what I saw 
was a vision of my brother attacking Tionne, his administrator."  The words fell, 
brutal and short, through the muted air, seeming to rest on the polished table for 
a moment before dissolving back into nothingness.  A general uncomfortable 
feeling sized the room and everyone looked away.  

	"Are you sure it wasn't a dream?"   This was Mara, ever practical.

	"Positive," Leia said, fixing  her with an expectant gaze.  "Particularly since 
Jedi Salusar sent a transmission that confirmed this.  And with that, I will turn the 
story over to him."  She nodded at Kam and sat back, her lips pursed into an even 
line. 

	Kam shifted in his chair and momentarily wished himself anywhere but 
where he was.  "During the quiet hour," he began, his gaze flicking at his small 
audience, "there was a disturbance in the Force about dawn.  Jedi Streen and I 
went to investigate and found we could not sense Master Skywalker at all."  He 
pulled at a breath.  "I sent Streen up to the Master's room, while I followed the 
disturbance to Tionne's chamber.  I sensed the Master along with Tionne there 
and I would have left them in peace....." here he gave the room a hard look, "if not 
for an overwhelming sense of evil."  He paused, put his large hands together for a  
moment and then continued.    "It was then that I  heard screaming, but I'm 
certain it wasn't Tionne.......  I broke in, but she was the only one there." 

	"Who talked to her  first?" Mara again.

	"I did," Kam said sadly.  "She seemed calm.   She told me what happened, 
that Master Skywalker had come to her during the night, that she had....." another 
sharp look, ".....resisted him, that he grew angry with her and attempted to kill her 
before vanishing....."

	"You mean that Skywalker disappeared into thin air," the  practical voice 
from the other side of the room put in.  A wistful look was accompanied by a 
shaking head.  "It's part of the program, I guess....."  Mara Jade lifted her head and 
smiled, but it was a hard look nonetheless.  "What did Streen see?"   

	Kam straightened.  "When Streen arrived, Master Skywalker was sitting 
up."  Kam closed his eyes in something like pain.  "The Master shouted something 
and then fell into unconsciousness.  He could not wake him."

	She nodded.  "And how long was Tionne conscious?"

	Kam looked directly at her.  "She remained lucid for several minutes, 
while we attempted to find out  what happened. Then she, too, fell into a coma.   
She's only come out of it last night."  He gave Leia a meaningful look.  "I sent the 
transmission right after I spoke to her the first time...."

	"Which was evidently intercepted by a news organization," Leia sighed.  "I 
heard it on the 'net right after I received your message, Kam."  She shook her 
head weary but resigned.  

	"Did anyone actually see Skywalker in Tionne's rooms?"  Mara asked,  
point blank.  

	Kam sighed.  "I didn't."

	"She has confirmed it, since, however.  At least, she believes Luke was in 
her room," Leia put in formally.

	Jade's brows lifted.  "Delusionary?"

	Kam shrugged.  "She's not reputed to have a lot of Force sense, but I 
don't believe she's insane," he said, his careful judgment..  

	This produced a moment of thought.  "Well, perhaps she *is* 
delusionary," Mara said, to a general silence.

	Leia gazed around at the table.  Cilghal was expressionless as only the 
Calamari can be, Han looked slightly worried but aloof, Kam was studying his 
hands, and Mara Jade gazed straight back at her.

	"I don't think so," Kam put in after a time, laying his hands down on the 
table.   Han's face softened.  "Up to now, as far as we all know, she's been quite 
sane.   There's no reason for her to make up something like this."  A long silence, 
punctuated with rippling thoughts, followed as Kam continued to think.  Leia, 
sensing he was not finished, put up a small hand, holding the room to silence. 

	Finally, after seeming to choke on the words, the young Jedi began to 
speak again.  "Especially, since she's been in love with Master Skywalker for quite 
a while now."  Kam said finally, looking sorrowful.  Leia caught a flash of 
something, but was unable to follow it.  "She thought...." he hesitated, as if 
deciding whether or not he should break a confidence.  Then he continued, his 
voice very soft.  "She thought that, since  ......  Callista was not returning,  that 
Master Skywalker needed companionship......"

	"How did she know Callista was not returning?" This came from Leia, 
whose eyes narrowed as she gazed at Kam's downcast face.

	He sighed in a tiresome way, his eyes narrowing.  "Because, Callista sent a 
message........."  

	Everyone in the conference room sat back in amazement, including Leia.  
The only person who remained as before was Han, his face frozen in realization.

	"What?!"

	Kam looked surprised.  "The Academy got the message over six months 
ago. I thought everyone knew....."

	Leia glanced around the room, seeking something........ "I wasn't aware of 
this.  Was anyone else?"

	A slow shaking of heads answered this question.  Han's face was a study in 
astonishment, mixed with sorrow and, perhaps, disgust.  Chewbacca put in a 
comment which seemed self-explanatory. Kam glanced around, off balance.

	"I was there when the message came in.  It wasn't even encrypted," he said.

	"Who took it?" Leia asked, although she already knew.

	"Tionne did, of course.  She took care of all that on Yavin."

	Leia turned to Cilghal.  "Do you think Luke knows?"

	Cilghal shook her head.  "There is no way to know, Leia," she replied, her 
soft voice calm.  "I have not been able to communicate with him since he was 
brought in.  And Jedi Salasar has been unable to break his trance."

	Leia's brow furrowed.   "What does that mean?"

	"It means that Master Skywalker will have to come out of it on his own,"  
Kam said, his face puckering in something like guilt.  

	Leia glanced around in something like distress and resisted the temptation 
to lay her head on the table.  A moment of silence stretched, thin and washed, like 
old laundry drying in hazy sunlight.  Kam's hands were splayed on the table, but 
the others were leaning forward, as if to catch  a half heard sound, some noise, 
some small pattern of conversation just on the edge of hearing.   After allowing a 
composing silence to pass, Leia stood.  "Well, that's all then.  I think we need to 
find that message.  Kam?"

	"I'll tell Kyp," he replied simply.  

**********************************************


	Leia, now alone with Han, sighed and spoke.  "Well, this puts an edge on 
it," she said after a time.  

	Han nodded.  "How do you think Tionne hid it from him?"

	"I'm not too sure, but evidently, she's a lot stronger than she's let on.

	Han's face wrinkled in an effort to think.  "But, it still doesn't make a lot 
of sense," he said, thinking out loud.  "Did she really think that when Callista left 
she could just step in?  Even Tionne had to know better than that.  And, why 
would she sit on the information so long?   If she was really so infatuated with 
Luke, I would think she'd have rushed the message to him......" He hesitated, as if 
he did not the like the picture that drew itself inside his head.

	"And what?" Leia prompted, although she thought she knew.

	Han shook his head wryly.  "And been there to comfort him.  Typical 
woman move," he added, forgetting himself.

	Leia's eyes snapped but her movements remained restrained.  "That so?"  
She shifted her stance.  "And what makes you such an expert?"

	He glanced up at her, guilty, as if caught stealing fruit from a neighbor's 
tree.  "Uh, I was just thinking out loud....." he began.

	She smiled at him, a hard expression, but filled with promises.  "It's 
alright, Mr. Smuggler Playboy, I understand how women throw themselves at you 
when you own your own ship....."

	Han smiled back, mirroring her expression.  "Until they see the ship....."

	She laughed outright, the first time she'd done so in days.  He smiled at 
the sound, took her arm in an almost courtly gesture, and together they left the 
room.

***************************************************

	Leia resisted the urge to take the afternoon off.  It was a beautiful day, just 
spring, and a wildlife refuge on the roof of one of the nearby buildings was 
beckoning.  But, there was duty and obligation, not to mention strange, political 
conundrums mixed liberally with pure terror.    She shook her head at her 
husband, left him smiling in spite of her refusal and headed for yet another 
conference room.

	On the way, she stopped by her anteroom to pick up Admiral Ackbar and 
an obviously impatient Major Knezar, the new NRI representative.  She smiled 
warmly, if formally at the Admiral and gave a pleasant nod at the NRI man.   

	"Are you ready?" she asked, as if it were an obvious question.

	Ackbar almost seemed to smile.  "Are you sure about this, Leia?" he asked, 
concern lacing his accented words with an edging of thoughtfulness.  

	She gave him a wistful expression, dropping her defenses for a moment.  
"As ready as I'm ever going to be, Admiral," she said, genuine friendliness cutting 
through her formality like sunlight falling through a cloudy day.  

	He only nodded. "I would like to present," he said, turning slightly, 
"Major Knezar, of NRI.  When you have the time, he has a report to present, 
background briefing and what-have-you.  You're going to need all the help you 
can get, Your Excellency."

	She turned to the man who was so brimming with impatience that he was 
practically elbowing aside the aging Calamarian Admiral.  "Thank you for being so 
patient," she began with great diplomacy, expertly disarming him with few words.  
"You may present your report after the meeting."  Her eyes slid to a chrono on 
the wall.  "I believe we're late, so if you please...." and gesturing slightly she turned 
and led the way up the crowded corridor.  The Major, off balance, almost had to 
run to keep up with her.

	They arrived to a half full conference room laced liberally with afternoon 
boredom.  Mara Jade was there, following orders to show up at a certain time.  
Leia exchanged a glance with the Jedi woman and settled herself at the head of the 
table.  No other Jedi were present.

	A few lower level functionaries of the Intersystems Relations Committee 
were already seated almost dejectedly around the table.  Outside of Mara's 
presence, it looked like it was going to be yet another stultifying afternoon.  A 
speculative thought rose in the back, like a mirage in a dying desert, that maybe 
there would be an interesting discussion regarding the Smuggler's Alliance.  After 
all, why else would the Jade woman be present?

	And then, of course, there was the juicy gossip scattering all over town, 
like trees seeding the in the spring, about Master Skywalker and a reputed love 
nest at the Jedi Academy on Yavin IV.  The fact that Master Skywalker was Chief 
of State Leia Organa Solo's twin brother only made this story all that much more 
entertaining.  And lately, Leia did look a little tired, it was agreed, but since Master 
Skywalker had not yet, reputedly, come out of his mysterious trance, she must be 
worried sick.     

	An amused older generation  likened it to one of the great crises during 
the last days of the Old Republic, when Anakin Skywalker had been defeated in an 
astonishing lightsaber duel by his erstwhile teacher and master, General Obi-wan 
Kenobi.   That incident had taken Coruscant by storm. Still, it had held great 
trouble for the Old Republic, signaling, as it turned out, the beginning of the end.  
Some were worried.  But the younger people, not remembering, were only 
entertained.    

	Here the Skywalker clan was at it again.  It appeared that Master Luke had 
finally gotten too full of  himself and fallen into something, but was it really the 
Darkside, or was it just more like the regular temptations of life?   There was 
divided opinion on this, some being more sympathetic to the eccentric Jedi Master 
than others.  

	Here he was, a hero of the Rebellion, with a certain mystical power only 
half understood, a knight of legend returned from the past.  And now he had 
fallen from grace.  The press couldn't get enough of it.  At first it was only an 
intercepted transmission, but now, this very morning, a tell-all story had been 
published by the most widely-read 'net circular in town.  The press was in a 
feeding frenzy.

	Leia knew all of this.  Every last word of it.  She made sure she knew such 
things.  And she knew, if only by virtue of her Jedi skills, what people were saying 
behind her back.  She also knew that things were a great deal more serious than 
most believed.   

	Not giving in even a millimeter, she raised her gaze from the datapad she 
held in her steady hand.   Her delicate face, so small and fineboned, now held with 
ease the power and authority she had finally grown to shoulder with grace. The 
revolutionary of days past had vanished.  Now she was the leader, steady, noble, 
commanding. 

	Gazing straight ahead, she reached out a hand.  It's power immediately 
halted the torrent of whispered verbiage that flowed around the cramped room 
like a restless stream.  The dark eyes were stern.   A consternation sized the 
functionaries seated there, cutting glibness to white, skeletal silence.  It fell, light 
but shroud-like, into the room.  And without further ceremony, the meeting 
began.

*********************************************

	Sunset on Rasclann IV was soft and unremarkable.  The avian wildlife had 
already resorted to the heavy rustling and singing that greet all transitions from 
day to night.   A bird landed on the balcony, its head moving in a jerky, reflexive 
motion.  Cocking its head, it gave the overly  thin woman standing there a rather 
pointed look, took a seed off the wooden floor and flitted away, a translucent, 
moving jewel in the red colored air.  

	She sighed, a slight woman, not pretty, with a military bearing.   But she 
stood, oddly tender, feeding the birds on the porch at sunset.  A stray breeze 
whisped through her hair, which was loose down her back.   She moved her head, 
following the motion of another bird as it landed, gave her a quizzical look, took 
it's prize and sparkled into the dark colors of  the surrounding forest.  

	"I thought maybe I'd find you here," a voice came from behind. 

	She started and half turned, her face settling into a hard expression.  
"Don't be cross....." she began. 

	His arm wrapped around her waspish waist as he stepped up behind her.  
He was on the tall side, dark haired, too young for her  perhaps, but with a face 
that was pleasant enough. He turned his face toward the sunset, the birds chittered 
in the dark trees, momentarily frightened.

	"What do you see?" she asked, not an idle question.

	He shrugged.  "Only a sunset and birds flying," he replied.

	She turned toward him, eyes glancing steel and then softening.  "No, I 
mean, out there...."

	He smiled, but it was a hard expression.  "I've had no visions in over a 
week," he put in, his voice quickening.  "Not since the one about Skywalker.  I 
told you, they don't come to me all the time, only on occasion."  He paused to 
caress her neck with a finely boned hand.

	She pulled away from him.  "What do you think Organa will do?"

	He smiled at her.  "Accept our terms, at least for a time," he replied, 
stepping away from her.  "After all, how can they not, after all their noble words 
about freedom and democracy?"  He breathed a deep breath, pulling at the 
cooling evening air.  "It's a perfect plan......." He turned back to her, a glinting 
affection showing in his blue eyes.  

	She looked away.  "I had hoped we would have heard by now."

	"Organa Solo has to run it by the High Council and then the full Senate," 
he said, sitting casually on a railing.  "This will take time, not to mention quelling 
any opposition she will inevitably face."  His face was smug for a moment, 
thinking.  "I should think the Bothans will be upset, not to mention the Noghri..... 
Kashyyyk won't be happy, either.   She's got her work cut out for her this time."

	"The Noghri have been moved, haven't they?" she asked idly, turning back 
toward the forest.  

	He shrugged, careless.  "I suppose.  That planet of theirs was almost 
destroyed during the Clone Wars.  Mother always said that they would not have 
survived long there, even if father had lived."

	She gave him a quizzical look.  "She said that?  She....."

	He moved over to her, pulled her close, putting a finger to her lips.  
"Shhhhh, Jelila.  We should rest now.  Mother's due in tomorrow and together 
we'll wait.  But for now....."  He bent his head and kissed her with surprising 
passion for one so cold edged.  His arms pulled at her body with sudden urgency 
as his hands slid down her back.  

	She pulled away just enough to give him a sideways look, unsuited to her 
ragged looks, coy and willing.  "Are you sure she still doesn't know about us?"

	He only paused long enough to smile at her.  "If  you conceive, she'll 
know soon enough."

	"You'd be the perfect father......" she murmured, her voice lowering

	He pulled his face away from her, laughing.  "Irek Ismaren has a son....... I 
like the sound of it......"

	A jeweled bird flitted past, it's colors fading into the twilight.  A cool 
breeze came up, chilly and slightly uncomfortable.   He pulled at her sleeve and 
together they made their way back across the wooden porch.  The door opened of 
its own accord and shut again behind them, as they vanished noiselessly into the 
shadowed house.

**************************************************

	Roganda Ismaren, the only one of the Emperor's concubines reputed to 
have conceived and been brought to term, arrived the next morning.  Her shuttle 
landed, and, with a minimum of escort she made her way into the isolated house.  
Irek was waiting.  Jelila Daala,  the representative of Otdjel, remained in the 
background.  Roganda smiled, her voice holding just the right inflection.  "Irek, 
it's good to see you looking so well!  You've grown."  She gave Daala a speculative 
look.  "And how are you, dear?" she said, a slight haughtiness in her voice.

	Daala looked straight into those beautiful, childlike eyes and said simply, 
"I'm fine, Roganda."

	Irek came up to take his mother's arm.  "We're just getting ready to eat.  
Are you hungry?"

	Roganda smiled at her only son.  "Certainly."  She waved at the escort.  
"You may leave now," she said, not even casting a glance  in their direction.  Irek, 
too, turned carelessly away.  Only Jelila Daala stood, suddenly off balance, 
uncertain as to her position.  A stinging irritation raked through her heart.  
Roganda always had that effect on her.  She knew, from experience that neither 
mother nor son would notice her absence for a time.  When together, they were 
like lovers whispering, heads together, shameless.   Banishing the thought with a 
disgusted grimace, she followed them up the path to the house.

	Roganda settled into the house over the days, taking over a small room on 
the first floor.  The two women vied for Irek's attention, a situation he seemed to 
enjoy.  But, as time passed, Daala found herself, more and more often, retreating 
to the side verandah.  Often, she just gazed into the distance, thinking.  For the 
first time in her life, she thought about her time in the Imperial Navy, about how 
she'd had to struggle, how she'd been stymied at each turn.  She thought long and 
hard about Moff Tarkin, her mentor and lover, who had advanced her career.   
Reluctantly she had to consider  what his motives really were, what he had really 
wanted out of her. 

	She remembered the years of stillness, completely isolated at the Maw 
Installation, going through exercises, plotting ever more intricate and complicated 
military maneuvers, training, always training.  A lot of good it had done her, she 
thought bitterly.  She had been so prepared, so thorough, so smart.   But not 
before one  Jedi adept had came along and almost wiped her out.   A twinge of 
mortification swept through her.  The harsh words, the unkind references, the 
jokes, they all swam back through streams of memory, taunting, hurting.   That's 
what she was now, a joke. 

	Time went by and the birds settled around her, accepting her as a natural 
part of their environment.  She, for her turn, after a period of resistance, began to 
feed them and, in secret, make over their small accomplishments.  She even had a 
few of the bolder ones eating out of her hands.  When she thought about it, she 
found herself grimacing and wondered, but only half-heartedly, what her enemies 
in the New Republic would say if they knew that the violently temperamental, 
erstwhile admiral, Jelila Daala was content these days just to sit and feed a few 
stray birds.  

	The days passed. The birds raised their young with a frantic enthusiasm.  
Daala kept the house in the absence of  housekeeping and cleaning droids  while  
Irek trained with his mother.  The components planted into his head when he was 
but an infant were now a full part of his mind.

	And his organic, jedi powers had grown immensely.  He had always been 
gifted with the Force and he was developing beyond even Roganda's wildest 
dreams.  But still,  Daala knew that Roganda was not satisfied.  Roganda knew 
well, as did Daala herself, the power that ran in the Skywalker family, knew how 
powerful Luke and his sister had become.  They were, against all odds, formidable 
opponents.  Still, everyone had their weaknesses, and Daala knew, one of 
Roganda's talents was searching out weakness.  

	One evening, after the dinner hour, they were all out on the verandah of 
the isolated house.  Irek was sitting casually on the railing, searching the westward 
landscape.   Roganda had sunk into a small, overstuffed chair to the side, a shawl 
wrapped securely around her alabaster arms.  Daala sat stiffly, a little of the way, 
on another hard chair brought from the kitchen.  She crossed her legs with 
impatience, seeking privacy and comfort.  For a solid moment, she wished 
Roganda anywhere but here.

	Roganda turned her beautiful face to Daala, smiled and Daala knew, 
without being told, that Roganda had discerned her thought.  Daala turned her 
face away, to hide something.  Was it sadness?  Was this feeling bitterness? she 
wondered, feeling too old for her chronological years.   Feeling helpless, she 
glanced down at her veined hands.  She pushed the fingers together.  But no, she 
was happier now than she had ever been in her life.  

	She turned to look back over at Irek.  His face was no longer the callow 
face of an adolescent.  He was a man, now, almost full grown.  His dark hair fell in 
solid waves over his head and neck.  His skin held the same pallor as his mother's 
but his eyes were a piercing blue, the kind of color that she had only ever read 
about or seen described on holovids.   His face was fine, with high cheekbones 
and aristocratic features.  It was strange, though.  A thought ran through her 
mind, fleeting and swift, almost beyond catching.  He did not look much like the 
old pictures of the Emperor as a young man, or even like the archived vids of 
Senator Palpatine in his prime.  He looked completely different.   Maybe that was  
Roganda, Daala told herself.  

	Roganda sighed and stretched, seeming at ease.   Daala waited, resisting 
the temptation to go and investigate the small doings in a nest just under the edge 
of the railing.  She could hear the baby birds chirping for their mother, she saw 
the mated pair swinging  around, flying just out of range.   But she knew she 
should not call attention to it.  Resolutely, she put the birds out of her mind.  
Roganda spoke.

	"I've had some interesting news, of late," she said, her soft, child's voice 
playing like wafts of silk through the air.

	Daala, her attention torn by the peaceful birds, was only half listening.

	"My training is almost complete," Irek said evenly, not heeding his mother, 
his voice assured in the colored air. Daala, gazing at him, felt her heart leap in its 
place.  Quickly, she averted her gaze. But not before Irek noticed.  He gave her 
one of his secret smiles and resumed his study of the horizon.  

	"You're doing very well, much better than we'd hoped," Roganda nodded 
to him, fishing for that fickle attention.  But then she hesitated, as if taken by a 
disturbing thought.  Daala wondered, through a flash of coldness,  if this was real 
or just a well-rehearsed act.  She decided on the latter.  "Still, there's been some 
concern that you need more.....in depth....training," Roganda went on, seeming to 
feel her way.

	Something strange here.  Even Daala could sense the uncertainty.   What 
was the old lady up to now?

	Irek's face was serious.  "But, there are no more Jedi to learn from," he 
said flatly, as if it were a generally known fact.  "The only school is on Yavin....."

	"I'm not talking about a school," Roganda  put in, cutting him off.  "I'm 
talking about a Jedi."  A silence filled the place for a time, curving off the railings.

	"What do you mean, Mother?"  His attention fully garnered, his voice was 
guarded.

	"I mean that I believe we have located a Jedi willing to teach you," she 
said, for a moment, quite joyous.

	"Who? All the Jedi  were destroyed......." he said quick, but still flat, as if 
discussing the price of wood at the local market.

	Roganda sighed.  "That's not for you to know, but the committee is 
having him brought here....."

	"To Rasclann!?" Irek replied, disgust filling his voice.  "All I want to do is 
leave this filthy place and they're sending a Jedi *here?*

	Roganda backed away a bit.  "This planet's not as bad as all that," she 
protested.  Daala realized, in another cold flash, that she was not at all surprised 
by his outburst.

	He rose, his long legs filling up space as he began to pace.  "You don't 
understand," he said quickly, his haughtiness taking control.  "I'm beyond 
teaching, now.   I was but a child in Belsavis."  Here he frowned, but moved on.  
"But now, now I know  so much......." His gaze was taken by the forested darkness.  
Daala followed it but found it was only lingering on the hidden middle distance.  
She smiled, but it was a private smile.

	Roganda spoke.  "Irek," she said so tenderly that Daala turned her head 
back to look.  Roganda was never tender.  "Irek, you must be ready to face the 
Skywalkers.   They've defeated everyone..... everything we've thrown  at them, 
including Vader and the Emperor himself."  Her face changed slightly, a longing 
entered it, faintly tapping from the sides.  "You may be our last hope ....... our only 
hope."

	Irek looked back at her and stopped pacing.  He considered his mother 
with a long, assessing look.  She was still ethereal and thin, with wrists barely the 
size of saplings in dead winter.   And her hair, black, long and straight, held no 
hint of gray.  But something about the small face was different.  Where before she  
had seemed to fly with the small birds, now she was earthbound, held to small 
branches, content.  She was waiting, expectant.  A feigned helplessness had 
departed, to be replaced with the real thing.  He held still, waiting, deciding.  His 
gaze was blue and predatory, flashing within the growing twilight.  But when he 
spoke, his voice signaled acceptance. "Then it will be as you say, Mother." 
	
	Roganda bowed her head in triumph.  "I knew you'd see reason," she said 
in her small voice.  "You will be more powerful than even Master Skywalker, more 
powerful than the Princess, more powerful than the Emperor himself......"  She 
closed her beautiful eyes and sighed in a simmering way, as if the vision she was 
seeing was unbearably beautiful.  She clutched her arms tightly about her.  "You 
are his rightful heir, Irek," she said after a silence filled with songbirds. "You will 
rule his Empire...."

	Daala gave Irek a sharp look and found she could not get his attention.  
Her brow furrowed with a flash of worry, but she dismissed it with a shrug and 
continued to listen for the small rustling sounds, the barely heard flash of feathers 
as winged creatures swooped lower and lower from a darkening sky.  

	Roganda stood, surprising Daala.  Immediately Irek was at her side.   "I 
am tired," Roganda said, taking in Irek, Daala, the verandah and, finally, the 
sunset.  "I have some work to do tomorrow.  If you will excuse me....." 

	She moved off quickly, brushing at Irek's silent offer of help the way old 
people do when they do not want to be helped.  "No, you stay here.  Perhaps, you 
will be able to see something...."

	Irek gave Daala a guilty glance but his mother did not notice.  "I'll try, 
Mother," he replied simply.

	Roganda vanished back into the house and the two remaining humans 
turned toward the sunset, watching as birds made mad, dark streaks across the 
lowering sun, shivered as the weather began to cool and the sun fell below the 
blue-black horizon.  Daala moved closer to him, but he pushed her away, casting a 
worried look over his shoulder.  

	Daala froze, her stance suddenly uncomfortable and stiff.  After a listening 
time, he turned to her.  "We can't let her know, Jelila," he said, with as much 
tenderness as his arrogant features would allow.  "She would not approve....."

	Daala nodded.   "I know, it's just that I......" her voice broke with the 
strength of secret passion.

	Sorely tempted, casting a side glance at the darkened house, he moved 
toward her, pulling her shoulders, enfolding her in his greedy arms.  "I feel it, 
too," he said fiercely, whispering.  "I want you, every minute, every hour...."  He 
held her away, the better to see her face in the fading light.  "I'll tell her, Jelila, I'll 
ask, don't worry.  But for now, it's too soon.....while we're rebuilding the Empire 
there'll be no time...."

	She put a veined hand over his mouth, relishing the feel of his lips on her 
fingers.  "I know," she said simply, halting him in  mid sentence.   "How long?"

	"Not until I am fully trained," he replied, his whisper breaking her heart.  

	Slowly, as if considering something, she turned from him, letting his hands 
slip away.  Her face lit as she studied the fading, red light and the jewel-like birds 
that adorned it like flashing sapphires on an expensive woman.

	He leaned into her, catching her by the waist.  "What do you see?" he 
asked, his voice barely audible.
	
		"Only a sunset and flying birds," she replied quietly.   "And, 
perhaps, the wedding of the next Emperor......"

	His face did not change, but something in his eyes glinted, a deep, clear 
desire pounding through his being, focused by the Force, enveloping them in 
blind lust.  "Jelila," Irek whispered, with much more tenderness than he had first 
intended.  She put a hand up to his, signaling acceptance.  Quietly, with true grace, 
she turned.  Then, he taking her by the hand, they too disappeared back into the 
house.  A light in one of the bedrooms flicked on and, after a restless time, flicked 
out again.   But Roganda's room remained always dark, where she sat, gazing at a 
star and biding her time.

*********************************************


Samizdat - Chapter Three
Old Imperial Palace, Coruscant


	C-Threepio stood off to one side, his golden awkwardness shining in the 
dim light of the anteroom.   His head was cocked in a very human gesture of 
listening.   Artoo-Deetoo was with him, his cylindrical, squat head revolving in a 
complete circuit every once in a while, a short whistle punctuating what should 
have been carpeted, governmental silence.  

	C-Threepio jerked his small head back, as if making a decision.  "Perhaps," 
he ventured in his cultured voice, "we should wait somewhere else, Artoo."

	A series of intelligent whistles greeted this statement.

	"I *am* rather worried, and, no, I am *not* a worrywart!," Threepio said 
in irritated tones.  "I knew the Princess' suggestion would not be received well.  
The very thought!  Negotiating with the Empire, indeed!  After all they've been 
though?  I think they should all have their circuits checked!!! "  Here his verbal 
modulator seemed to lose its function momentarily.   If Threepio had been 
human, the cause could have been indignation, but as it was, well, maybe one of 
the cleaning droids needed an adjustment or two.  "And what did I tell you?  Why, 
just last night, as they were discussing this very thing, I wanted to tell them, I 
wanted to warn them.  I knew the Senators would have a fit.   The Noghri, 
especially, not to mention the Wookies......  But, do they listen to 'droids?" 

	Artoo whistled, but Threepio cut him off.

	"No!  Not even when General Solo was almost compelled to subdue poor 
Chewbacca by stun!!   I've never seen  the Wookie so angry!"

	This was punctuated by a snappy statement, the fact that it consisted of a 
series of chirps and whistles did not seem, at the moment, very untoward.

	See-Threepio gave his companion what passed for a sharp look.  "Not 
even when you beat him at Quest last week, Artoo.  How can you compare 
negotiating with the Empire to your silly games!   Sometimes I wonder what really 
goes through those logic circuits of yours!"  He sniffed, or at least made a good 
approximation of it.  His mind, mechanical though it was, was one-track.  "They 
proceed," he said, returning back to the track like a  Caridian bloodhound on a 
military exercise. "As if there is nothing wrong and when things get out  of hand, 
when everyone starts yelling........"  A lift of the awkward, arms here indicated 
exasperation. "You know I can't abide yelling, Artoo.  It was exactly like this after 
the big battle at Endor -- Captain Solo was yelling! Well, actually he yelled all the 
way through........ But this time he was yelling at General Calrissian.   Do you 
remember,  Artoo?  It almost caused my audio receptors to malfunction.  I had to 
retire for a time.  Of course, one of the Ewoks......"

	This short story made long was cut off by rather frantic whistling from 
Artoo.  Threepio cocked his head again.  "You don't say, Artoo?"

	A snap of a whistle occurred here, and Threepio accomplished an entire 
two seconds of silence as he listened.   "Yes, I believe you're right, Artoo.  They're 
headed this way....."

	It was just at this moment that the droids were pushed into a small, 
shadowed corner by a group of agitated beings rounding the stately bend.  The 
anteroom, small, comfortable and convenient, provided a good place to stop 
walking and talking at the same time and the beings took it.  The mechanicals, 
looking on from an ignored background, resisted an almost irrational urge to 
protest as they watched as the Chief of State, looking harried and harassed by 
members of several, accompanying, non-human species, halted and turned. 

	Leia glanced around, almost frantic, but the room held no escape.  The 
only doorway in was also the doorway out.  And that was effectively blocked.   She 
glanced around again, this time more slowly as she made a decision.   "Senator 
Lo' kmimkar!" she said, her voice rising despite herself in irritation, "please let me 
explain!  Perhaps you would care to accompany me to my  private conference 
room....."

	The agitated Senator intended nothing of the kind. "You will explain this 
outrage!" he said, his accented words melting through boiling Basic.   Leia had 
never before witnessed a member of the Noghri race in full rage and, gazing at the 
agitated face showing rather too many needle pointed teeth, found herself resisting 
the urge to break headlong to the door........  She swallowed, willing control.  A jedi 
calming technique appeared as if out of nowhere and she felt her face fall into a 
sort of dispassion.  "Believe me, Senator," she said, bringing her voice down a 
notch, "I will.  But I need time."  She gestured to the little, but very public, room.  
"Do you wish to speak more fully here, or should we retire to my offices?"

	Lo 'kmimkar, still on the offensive, found himself taking a step backwards, 
taken by surprise at the Chief of State's sudden willingness to talk.  The agitation 
and pounding heart he had so clearly sensed with an ancient hunter's insight  had 
almost completely disappeared.    Now she stood before him, in her pure white, 
like a supernatural being of peace and serenity.  He swallowed, fighting some 
agitation that was an instinctual defense mechanism and answered.  "Yes, I would.  
As would," here he gestured to his following colleagues, "all of us."  A Bothan 
nodded in hurried agreement, along with a small, immaculately combed Bimm.   
Even a stately Ithorian was there, following along with deceptive slowness in the 
back.  

	Leia smiled.  "Well, then, my conference room it is.  If you will follow 
me....." and here she turned, moved back through the crowd and marched down 
the hall as fast as her  legs could carry her.  

	As the unlikely crowd moved away, filing in a reluctant line out of the 
room, See-Threepio stepped out of his shadow.  Artoo followed behind.  He 
gazed after his erstwhile mistress for a moment and then leaned conspiratorially to 
his astromech companion.  "I think we're in big  trouble here, Artoo," he said, his 
perfect, robotic modulation falling to barely audible, "big trouble."

	Artoo whistled, this time in agreement.

*******************************************

	Kyp Durron, now well rested, walked soberly down a palatial corridor, 
past an anteroom where a loud argument was taking place, past another where, in 
contrast, there was nothing but silent wordings held by invisible threads within 
still space; and on through to the living areas of the former, imperial palace.  The 
corridors changed color from time to time, pulsating from one pastel hue to 
another, as function changed.  After a time, he sensed a quiet  place, but an 
agitated mind was there, one possessed by worry and uncertainty.   He halted and 
hit the entry bell.

	Han Solo appeared a