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 at the sliding door, gesturing.  Kyp followed his friend 
through a formal entry way, moved quickly through the reception room and off to 
an informal kitchen.  Fresh vegetables held a peaceful place on an old-fashioned 
wooden counter as if they had just been washed.  Kyp glanced around for a 
kitchen droid, but Han was the only one there.

	Han saw the glance, but misinterpreted it.  "The kids went off the rec 
center for a while," he said, retrieving a warm drink from a console by the oven.  
"Want some?" he said, interrupting.  Kyp nodded and Han continued, pouring.  
"Jacen's on the new Luftball team at school.  He's pretty good too, I guess, even if 
Jaina's the athletic one."

	"Is she on it, too?" Kyp asked, smiling.

	"Naw, she doesn't care for all that team stuff, or so she says, anyway," Han 
said, grinning.  "She's been into this combat fighting thing lately.  I think her 
Uncle's reputation is beginning to influence her a little too much....."  Here he 
paused, as if the past week had washed in on his mind all at once.  Silent now, he 
put the old-fashioned pottery cup down in front of Kyp and made a place for 
himself at the other side of the table.   His face had fallen and Kyp frowned.

	"It can't be that bad, can it?" Kyp asked quietly, knowing that if Han 
wanted to tell him anything, he would do it in his own time and in his on way.

	A sigh occurred here, a gathering of thought.  "I don't think I've seen it 
any worse.  Even during that business with Grand Admiral Thrawn, when we 
knew somebody was trying to kidnap Leia and the children........even then it was 
better.  At least Luke was here....."   Han took a sip out of the cup and set it down 
rather quickly, grimacing.  "I always do that.  It's too hot, isn't it?  Here," he said 
gesturing toward Kyp's cup, "let me cool it...."

	"It'll cool by itself," Kyp replied reasonably, withholding the cup by 
grasping it's handle tightly.  "I know you're worried.  That's what I've come to tell 
you.  I think we can get Luke back."

	Han gazed at Kyp's face, at his boyish hair, all tumbled, at his dark, now 
limitless eyes, at his regular, open features.  "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"  
Han said quickly.  "I mean, don't get me wrong, I want the kid back as much as 
anybody......  But what if Tionne's right?  What if it really was Luke who tried to 
kill her?  How do we control him?"

	Kyp leaned forward, smiling at Han's use of the word 'kid.'  No one else in 
the entire New Republic ever thought of Luke Skywalker as a kid.  "I think it'll be 
alright, Han," he said, putting all his jedi reassurance into the statement.  "You'll 
see, besides, I've been talking to Mara Jade...."

	Han snorted.  "Listen, Kyp, Mara's a good person and all, but she's a little 
sharp around the edges, know what I mean?"  He saw Kyp  nod, but gave him no 
time to offer further comment.  "Let's see......" he said, glancing up into the air 
directly above their heads.  "She thinks it's a setup, right?  She thinks something's 
out there, gunning for the Skywalkers, and it's manipulating  Tionne......"  He set 
the cup down.  "I wish I could believe her, Kyp.  I wish Luke was as benign as you 
want to believe, but I have a feeling it's not so......"

	Kyp's brow furrowed.  "How so?" he asked, rather startled.

	"Because, this has been coming for a while now, Kyp.  Luke's power has 
grown so much in the last two or three years that I'm not too sure I trust 
*anyone* with that kind of power, no matter how well I think I know them, and 
no matter how closely I'm related to them."  He paused here, to give the words a 
chance to settle. "Luke's a wonderful guy, Kyp, don't get me wrong.  I've known 
him for what seems like all my life, he's like the kid brother I never had.  But,"  he 
pulled up short, a choking sensation suddenly seizing his throat as his emotions 
began to rise, a hard thing for such a straightforward, common sense person.  
"But, after the *Eye of Palpatine* thing, and then Callista leaving him flat like 
that, I think he's been a little out of it ever since."

	Kyp drew a hard breath and studied his cup  intently.  "I know the 
Master's been a little depressed lately...."

	Han moved impatiently in his chair.  "A little depressed is an 
understatement, Kyp," he said, his voice hardening.  "Do you remember about six 
months ago?  Do you remember when Leia started getting sick, out of the blue?"  
He grinned slightly.  "At first, we thought she was pregnant again....." The grin 
faded.  "But the doctors said she wasn't and there was nothing wrong with her.  
Finally, Cilghal told us, after a real bad episode, that she was being attacked 
through the Force.  She was in the med center, Kyp....."  He pulled his gaze into 
the Jedi's.  "I thought we were gonna lose her."

	"Why didn't you tell me?" Kyp asked, shocked.

	"Because, Leia didn't want it to get out.  She was afraid someone was 
listening in our transmissions."  He grinned slightly to himself again, his smile 
crooked.  "Looks like she was right about that.  She thought it'd be bad for 
business, if you know what I mean...."

	Kyp nodded.  "I understand," he said after a silent time.  

	Han looked away.  "She tried to contact Luke, you know, the Jedi way, 
after each episode, but she was blocked.  She didn't want to admit it, but I think 
she suspected him as the cause...."

	"But that doesn't make any sense, Han," Kyp put in.  "Now Luke's the one 
in med center."

	Han nodded.  "That occurred to me.  And," he looked sad, "it's given me 
hope, if you know what I mean."

	Kyp nodded and tried for reassurance.  "I know, Han.  You love both of 
them...."

	Han glanced at him and then moved to stand.  "I don't want to have to 
choose between them, Kyp," he said simply.

	Kyp stood, the beverage in the cup gone, the sun going down.  "I don't 
think you'll have to, Han," he said, turning to gaze at the man who saved him from 
an almost unendurable life as a slave in the lightless mines of Kessel.   An 
affection glinted in his endless eyes for a moment as he remembered, all in one 
instant, what the Skywalkers meant to him.  "It's not coming from Master 
Skywalker, I know it.  It can't be..."

	"Is this something you sense in the Force?" Han asked, his dark eyes 
shadowed in the afternoon's falling light.  "Or is it something you believe?"

	Kyp stood perfectly still for a moment, considering.  And then, without 
another word he turned back toward the entryway, hastening in gathering silence 
back to the corridor that had led him there, back to the med center.

	Han heard the door slide open, then shut and leaning to pick up the cups, 
muttered, "That's what I thought."

**************************************
  
	Leia retreated out of her  private conference room approximately 3 hours 
later, beaten and bedraggled.  Slumping into her office, she pushed  a stray hair 
out of her face and wondered, in a kind of frustrated pause, what she looked like.  
'Like the COS from the Deserts of Araneth,' she thought.  Slowly, like an old 
woman, she sank into her desk chair, her supporting hands clutching the top of 
the simple piece of furniture.  Quietly, she ran her fingers along it, as if she had 
never seen it before.  Someone had found it on Tatooine, somewhere.  She just 
couldn't remember where now.  It was made of some kind of  native sandstone.   
With a great, creeping sadness, she wondered if Luke had ever seen it somewhere, 
inadvertently, as it sat in someone's shop or office, cluttered with the everyday 
junk of commerce.  She wondered if he had ever brushed by it in boyish ambition 
to do something more than be a struggling moisture farmer, to find something 
other than sand and overrepairied mechanicals, to be somebody.  Her fingers laced 
over it, her small hands spreading as if they could encompass the entire top.   The 
sandstone, light but incredibly  hard, remained fixed and implacable, just like Luke 
himself.

	A tingling feeling began to resonate in her mind, a soft, open, airy light 
filtered through like light filtering through a grove of trees.   It laced about her 
thoughts, bringing reassurance, and a strange serenity.  Serenity on the edge of 
chaos.  She shook her head once, as if to clear it, but then thought the better of it.   
She needed a peaceful moment or two.  Besides, she knew she was due at the med 
center, to check, always checking.....

	Although,  things there were never different.  She reached out with her 
mind, to find out who was there.  She felt Kyp arrive, a dark cloud over his 
thoughts.  She thought maybe Kam was there with him.  And there was someone 
else, someone she didn't know well...... it had to be....yes it was Mara.   This 
surprised her.  She knew that her brother and Mara had a rather oblique, almost 
formal relationship.   Why would Mara....?   But then, what better way to find out 
than to go?

	She stood, smoothing her dress with her hands in a habitual, planeing 
motion, repeated all throughout her career first in the Imperial Senate and now 
with the New Republic Senate.  Lifting her head, she made a move for the door, 
but something stopped her.  She glanced around the room, scowling a bit, maybe 
to see if there was anything there she had missed.  But no, everything was as it had 
always been.   Various data pads and files lay scattered here and there,  silent and 
waiting.  A comm console lifted its blank face at her as if trying to speak but 
unable to.  She frowned at it, seeing a floating, amber afterimage, as one does 
when one turns too fast.  But then, after waiting for a quiet moment, she turned 
for the door.  

	It slid open but she was motionless before it.  Where before she had been 
in her office, now she was in a vortex, a dust devil of wind and grit.  It blew her 
bedraggled hair free of its restraints so that the dark mass whipped around her 
face.   A hot wind fell into her being as if put there by injection, coursing through 
her veins, pounding within her heart.   She reached out a hand, panicked, but the 
dirt did not lessen, in fact it became more and more dense, as if it were built into 
a sandy wall rather than being blown by the wind.   She closed her mouth into a 
protective, straight line, grimacing into the wind.   She felt the sting of thousands 
and thousands grains of sand and dirt as they pounded into her unprotected skin, 
pushing her back, back into ....... what?   What was back there?

	She turned, feeling oddly protective and saw a figure there, a human 
figure.   It had an aura about it, a strange, blood aura of deep, dull red.  It pulsated 
and for a moment she was nauseous as an odor fell about her, a stink of death, of 
sweet blood in the first moments of killing, of ozone that so littered the 
battlefields of space.  She looked down at her white gown and saw, to her horror, 
that it was splashed with horrible gashes of ripe, full blood.  She looked at her 
hands, at the small joints that held the fingers together outlined only in fresh 
blood, as if from a slaughterhouse.  

	She gazed up at the figure, trying to see it, to make it out, when it moved.   
A rippling laughter seemed to emanate from it, like an organic calling sound from 
the throat of a killing vulture.   Then it raised something, something red and 
vicious, slashing with quick strokes as the dust devil intensified. She moved 
toward it, pulling at it, striking at it with her hands, hands finally searching for the 
lightsaber she always wore.  But she found herself unmoving and the figure, now 
duller and more distant, only laughed at her, pulled the red shaft of light into a 
throwing gesture and flung it at her.  She told herself to duck, to shift, to run, but 
she remained paralyzed, muted, staring.   The red light flew toward her with an 
inexorable strength.  Then blackness took hold, and sinking, whirling quicksand 
drowned her thoughts.

	"Leia!"  It was Han's voice, his worry and fear showing through an 
enforced calmness.   Eyes still closed, she felt out with an oddly clean hand, to feel 
for his strong fingers.  Momentarily, she was surprised that her fingers were dry, 
not slick and sticky.   Very quietly, slowly, she opened her eyes.

	She was lying on the floor, in the doorway.  An alarm was blaring 
somewhere in the distance and she could  hear the sound of running feet.  She 
glanced around, coming to in one, awful moment, making to rise.  "Han!" she said, 
unnecessarily, "where am I?"

	He gave her face a frenzied look and clenched her hand.  "In your office, 
or half in it anyway," he said quickly, gesturing with his head.

	She let her eyes travel around the room.  Nothing seemed amiss, except 
that she was lying flat on her back, sprawled as if she had fallen from a great 
height, right in the middle of the doorway.   She pulled on his hand and he helped 
her to rise.

	"Are you alright?" he asked, quietly, giving her a close look.  

	"I ...... I think so," she replied, more bewildered than afraid.  "How long 
was I out?"

	"Ten seconds,  I think.  Maybe a minute at most.  I came in just as you fell.  
What do you remember?"

	She frowned to herself.  "Nothing....... I was going to the med center, the 
door opened and...... here I am now."  She looked up at him.  "You don't 
think......?"

	"We'd better get you down there, now!" he replied, catching her thought.  
"Can you walk?"

	"Yes," she replied fiercely.

	Throughout the halls of the old palace they moved past people lying 
prone, blank faced and astonished.  At first she stopped, to give help, but no one 
seemed injured. An overwhelming sense of darkness and astonishment seemed to 
have overcome them, like stepping into a hidden hole in the midst of a greened 
field.  They pulled themselves up, embarrassed when they recognized her, although 
some of the younger beings showed signs of true fright.  A few babbled in a near 
sleepwalking state, something about a red light.....

	Leia shook off a feeling of familiarity and continued.   The med center was 
crowded as she made her way back to where Luke was.   She halted in her tracks as 
she saw Kyp Durron pull himself up slowly off the floor where he had collapsed.  
Kam Salusar was still unconscious.   Mara Jade  was conscious but sunk into a side 
chair, her head bowed in something like pain.  Leia bent to look at Mara's face but 
the eyes were still closed, the breath coming in fast gasps.  Leia  moved  on toward 
Kyp, and after helping him rise, went looking for Cilghal.  Kyp smiled at her, an 
expression meant to be reassuring, but she could feel the aftertaste of clutching 
darkness in his mind.

	She shook off a nagging fear and ran into the center.  The machines 
pulsated, orderly and quiet.  Tionne, now regulated to a regular room, was 
unconscious on the floor, where she had evidently fallen.   Cilghal was with her, a 
portable diagnostic pad flung halfway across the room.  Leia moved over to the 
small woman and the larger Calamari.   She felt for  pulses and then pulled her 
hand away.  They were alive, just unconscious.   She gave Tionne's and Cilghal's 
slack faces a quick look and made a decision.  She knew it was wrong, but she had 
to know.  Quickly, as if running a race, she made her way to Luke's room.  She 
rounded the corner only to stop dead as if a cold, dark wave had reared an 
impenetrable mass over her head.   

	He was still on the diagnostic bed, still in his frayed tunic and pants, his 
hair still rumpled and dirty from days of  unconsciousness.   But he was awake.  
The blue eyes flicked at her as she moved toward him, at first cold, then a shiver of 
fear ran through them.   Quickly, almost too swiftly to see, he handed for the 
lightsaber that lay on a console nearby.   It activated while in mid-air.  She 
swallowed and took a step forward, but stopped in mid stride as the blade shivered 
through her vision.

	An alarm blared away somewhere and every gauge and measurement on 
the diagnostic  panel read off the scale.  A clamor of medical bells and whistles 
signaled overload.  She did not hear them, only saw Luke, her brother, coming to a 
full battle stance in the blink of an eye, the lightsaber, bright green, holding steady 
in his  hand.  He gave her a clean, warrior's look and she knew that, in battle, he 
would best her.  

	Quietly, with great deliberation, she stepped backward.  He did not  move 
or react.  "Luke!" she whispered, her voice carrying with the power of the Jedi.  
"Luke, it's me....."

	He answered, his stance unwavering.  "Who are you?"  It was a cold voice, 
commanding, sending shivers down her spine.  

	She gaped, momentarily off balance.  "Luke, it's Leia.  You're on 
Coruscant....."

	"Why is there blood there?" he asked, as if he had not heard, as if she had 
not spoken.  "Why is there blood on your dress?"

	Involuntarily, she glanced down at her gown.  It was rumbled and a little 
soiled but there was no blood there, only the remnants of a long, tiring day.  
"Luke," she said, her voice lowering with conscious effort.  A vision flashed into 
her mind, a vision of blood and whirling, dirt soaked wind.   Her face changed as 
she sought to reach him.  "Luke, there's no blood.......  it's a dream ........"

	His voice rose, just factionally, frightening her.  "There's blood 
everywhere....... you have blood on your hands," he said, focusing the Force 
through his voice.  It began to echo through the room and she had, momentarily, a 
vision of a tall, black  hooded figure speaking,  summoning guards........

	"Luke," she said evenly, "there's no blood.  It's a dream......"  She reached a 
hand toward him, as if by proximity alone she could show him that her hands were 
clean.

	He shook his head and the saber dipped a little.  He peered at her, as if 
seeing her for the first time since she had entered the room.  Then his head jerked 
up, as if he heard something that was beyond her hearing.  He scowled, and giving 
her a quick, warning look, took a glance around the room.  

	Leia, watching him, wondered what he saw.  His reflexes, augmented by 
the Force, were lightening quick and she knew that he could not be subdued, not 
at least while he was armed.  But, even unarmed, Luke was quite formidable.  
Hesitantly, not really sure what to do, she stepped forward, into the range of the 
lightsaber.  Maybe, offering herself as a sacrifice, or seeming to do so, would get 
through to him.

	A glint flashed through the blue eyes, as if he read her.  He pulled the 
lightsaber up and away, and the muscles of his back clenched hard as the magical 
blade made an inevitable arch downward, toward his twin sister.   Leia just stood, 
suddenly realizing that something else was moving, clutching at consciousness 
within him.  His presence, usually so blocked, was free to her.  And she felt his 
rush of confusion, hopelessness, restlessness, his pain.   She put all her life force 
into the link just as he swung the blade.  A scant second passed.  The blade halted 
in mid-air, held impossibly high, seemingly of its own accord.  

	She had closed her eyes, her passiveness taking what was inevitable.  But, 
as the moment passed, she felt a freedom, a breath passing, a peaceful day on the 
desert after a debilitating  sandstorm, ocean smooth as glass.  She opened her eyes 
and found herself looking into the bewildered face of her brother.  His tunic was 
still frayed and old, his hair completely disheveled, his blade deactivated in a 
trembling hand.  He gazed at her a long moment, feet flat on the ground.  Then he 
looked down at the hilt of this saber.

	"I almost killed you," he said, a note of wonderment in his voice.

	"I'm sorry," she replied, not indifferent to him, but feeling a quiet joy.  "I 
couldn't think of any other way to stop you."

	The lightsaber went back to it's place on his belt and he moved, taking a 
seat on the edge of his bed.  "Where am I?"

	She allowed herself to become matter-of-fact.  "Coruscant," she said  
quietly.

	"When?"

	"Almost a week ago, now.  Kam put you in the trance."

	He nodded, knowledge flooding his eyes.  "I remember.  Streen wasn't able 
to do it."

	Her brow furrowed.  "How much do you remember?"

	He sighed and shook his head.  Suddenly it hurt, as if he had been 
drugged.  "Only parts.  I was asleep, but no, wait, I was waiting for someone....... 
Tia," he said, startling her with the name.

	"She's here too."

	His face brightened.  "Tia?  Why? I told her......."  He frowned.

	Leia's face became wary.  "You told her what?" she said in an even tone of 
voice.

	He shifted on the bed.  "I told her she should leave Yavin for a while...... 
but no, that's not right," he added, sounding uncharacteristically confused.  "I told 
her I was waiting for her...... that I wanted......."  A flash went through his sense and 
he blushed hard, his own words taking him unawares, the color in his cheeks 
incongruous for person of so much power.  

	Leia felt her heart sink.  But she could not prompt him.  She had to know 
the truth.  It was important for him, for her and her fledgling government.  

	"You say she's here too?" he asked, his eyes flicking as he changed the 
subject.

	"Yes, she was in a trance when she arrived......"

	"I wonder if she saw it too....." he began, his voice fading to a whisper.

	"Saw what?" 

	He shook his head, his mind unable to retain what he had just seen.  Or 
was it what he had just heard?  The sounds and the visions rumbled through his 
head, refusing any technique to separate them.  He found that he could only call 
up bits and pieces of it, the visions were all color and pain.  Finally he gazed at his 
sister, noting the careful control on her face.   "The laughing, the sandstorm, an 
ocean....... I was lost in it, then...." He hesitated,  his face that of an ancient trying to 
remember the words of a childhood song.  "Blood....... perhaps..... I don't know...." 
he said, after a long hesitation.

	"What do you mean, 'you don't know?'"  A small, impatient rise colored 
her question.

	He looked away.  "I'm not too sure.  I can't make any sense out of it."

	She sighed and gave the room an irritated  glance.  "Stay here, Luke," she 
said, an open note of resignation in her voice.  "You've got a lot of explaining to 
do."

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

	It took a good twenty-four hours to put the palace back on an even keel.  
As it turned out, all the force-sensitives in the area were affected, although some, 
depending upon age and experience, were affected more than others.  Besides, as if 
this weren't enough, a political crisis was brewing within the Senate.  

	The news of the Core Systems' offer to negotiate a trade treaty with the 
New Republic had sent shockwaves throughout the youthful government.  Beings 
whose compatriots had fought and died in the airless reaches of space, not 
surprisingly, protested strongly.  Beings who had been enslaved by the very people 
who were now applying for legitimacy were profoundly insulted that the Chief of 
State would even consider such a proposal.  Beings who had watched husbands, 
wives, sons, daughters, nest mates, den mates, whole home worlds fall to the 
oppressive, stormtrooper offensives, to military strategies perpetrated upon 
helpless, civilian populations, started away in instinctive distaste.

	The New Republic still derived great deal of its strength from hatred of 
the stormtrooper; from hatred of the Emperor and his wicked underling, Darth 
Vader, against all the evil and misery they had made, together, in one great and 
profound study of the Darkside.   People, pulled out of the complacency of 
peacetime, suddenly and with great force remembered that whole worlds had 
labored in misery as the Emperor and his minions had attempted to seize even 
more territory, to enfold the galaxy in full horror like someone pulling a black 
curtain over cheerful night.     Everyone was outraged.

	Even the Princess, whose world had been destroyed before her very eyes, 
who from this one terrible act had been bequeathed a lifetime of nightmares, 
underestimated the groundswell of protest that followed her announcement 
during a small committee meeting.  Instantly, insidious whispers arose out of 
nowhere, out of the very fabric of the atmosphere surrounding her

	It was said that she had begun to slip toward insanity, that her time in the 
Rebellion, always remembering Alderaan and all that had happened since, had 
finally begun to weigh upon her mind, so much rock weight upon a fragile  
mountainside.  People, even people who knew her well, had known her for years, 
who were trusted friends and companions, even these people began to pull away 
from her, to question her in the deep depths of their respective souls.

	She knew of it.  Even she, herself, questioned her own motives.  What was 
the purpose in accepting these adversaries, even in the most tangential of ways?   
Was it worth this pain and questioning?  Was it worth the political catcalling that 
was fast becoming personal?  Was it worth the doubting look on Han's face as he 
watched her pilloried in the press?  Was it worth the children's questions when 
they were no longer accepted by their friends?  She had to study that, to make sure 
that she had some faith in it, that it was real.   

	The day after Luke's awakening, as he was in quiet meditation and the 
other Jedi were being attended by healers and each other, she fled, up to the 
garden, the one that had called out to her with an almost physical voice only 
several days before.  She wanted to hear, just for a while, small birds moving about 
the branches of the trees, to see a butterfly or two cast itself onto the currents of 
the wind, to hear a small breeze before she felt  it on her face.   All these were 
trivial things, but maybe they would bring healing and peace.

	She was there a long time.   Her footsteps, lightly held in small breezes, 
carried her noiselessly to a favorite nook, an out of the way corner on a tangential 
path which was generally deserted.  Hot sun poured its life-giving light down into 
the artificial grove of trees.  Their leaves shimmered in return, answering in 
restless movement.  She took off her shoes, and felt, for the first time since she 
could remember, the grass between her toes.  It was stiff and soft at the same time, 
sharp edges over smooth, cool surfaces.  She pushed her feet into it, sitting 
carelessly, despondent on a disused, stone bench, her mind blank.

	"Your Excellency!"  A soft, youthful voice, fighting surprise, graced the 
sunlight as Leia glanced up.  "What are *you* doing here?"

	The speaker was a diminutive humanoid, a female from the looks of it.  
She had short, dark hair, very straight and rustling in the pleasant breeze.  Hazel 
eyes stared out of the rather dark face, the greenish color black rimmed, black 
specked.  Dark eyelashes fluttered in puzzlement.

	"Uh ....... I'm sorry, but who are you?" Leia put in, attempting but not quite 
succeeding, to hide a quick, dark irritation.

	"T'anonma," the girl answered with surprising assurance.  "I'm a page in 
the Senate.  I'm from the Spassjenye System."  A small smile accompanied this 
explanation.  "We've only been full members for about the last standard six 
months or so."

	"Oh," came the abrupt reply.  Leia resisted the urge to give the girl a curt 
word and send her on her way.  But, after a moment she signaled a friendly, if 
resigned, sitting gesture.  "What are you doing up here.....uh....T'a--?"

	"T' anonma," the girl put in for her, a smile entering her voice.  "When I 
miss home this is where I come."  Her voice held all the subdued joy of the very 
young.    "The trees here remind me a little of the forests of my home planet."

	Leia glanced at the girl's face which was pointed away, up, at the trees and 
decided to play along.  "Do you miss it often?" she asked.

	T'anonma gave the Chief of State a quick look and then shielded her eyes 
with a miniature hand, looking away into the sunlight.  "No, usually I'm too busy," 
she said briskly, in exactly the right fashion.  "After all, being a page isn't easy,"  
she continued in a very grownup, common sense manner.  "It's been interesting, 
though.  I've learned a lot since I came here."

	Leia smiled but there was no light in her features.  "What have you 
learned?" she asked being polite, although some small part of her really wanted to 
know.

	T' anonma smiled.  "Oh," the shy smile again, "a lot of things....." she said 
quickly, glancing at the Chief of State before turning her gaze back to the safety of 
the trees.  

	A moment of silence ensued but the small girl held silent.  The former 
Princess sighed and opted for a slumped honesty and a little unsolicited advice.   
"Watching out for learning, T' anonma," she said after a breeze shuffled silence.  
"It can cost you....."

	The serious young face turned to Leia's despondent one.  "I know that, 
Your Excellency," she said, her voice showing no trace of surprise.  "But still, you 
can't grow and be alive, unless you're is learning."

	Leia sighed and let the silence return.  T'anonma, who did not the seem 
the least uncomfortable, turned her face away, studying a pool of sunlight as it 
filtered through a shower of leaves.     "It's like these trees, here," she continued 
after a time, her voice startling Leia out of a dark reverie.  "They start out as 
saplings, grow to a certain height, mature and eventually die.  They're not allowed 
to remain, always they change."  She turned a youthful visage, full of idealism and 
quiet, involuntary wisdom, to Leia.  "I'll never forget my time here, Your 
Excellency."

	Leia scowled, suddenly afraid.  "How so?"

	T'anonma looked a little abashed at the scowl, but continued.  "Because of 
your courage, Your Excellency.  Because, when  you allowed the Core Systems to 
come into the New Republic, you gave hope to their people."  She sighed, 
acknowledging a reality.  "I  realize, of course, that the government there may be 
run by the same people who have fought against us since Endor, but finally, their 
people have some hope.  The same hope as the rest of us have.   This war can't go 
on forever."  Here she gave a small smile, as one conceding a point in acrimonious 
debate. "Sooner or later, the remnants of the Empire will fade, as it already has in 
many places."  There was a pulled silence here, as she momentarily retreated from 
an unpopular notion.  Then the young/old voice continued.   "We should make 
peace....." 

	Leia bowed her head, thinking.  When she had been this girl's age, all 
everyone had thought about, discussed, dreamed about, was war, rebellion, 
violence.  The Senate was breaking up, imploded in agonizing millimeters by 
Senator Palpatine and his allies.  A great darkness had spread, cloaking out over 
the galaxy.   Fear ruled, people were afraid to speak truthfully even within their 
own homes. The Jedi had been destroyed, rotting away under insidious intrigue.

	Raging hopelessness had seeped through the souls of all her generation.  
She remembered the many people who had rebelled in despair, following their 
consciences, now dead.   She knew many who had surrendered to the fear, some 
because of cowardice -- because there are always cowards.  But some because of  
white hot concern for parents, mates and offspring.  Neither group had fared 
much better than the first.  Even she herself had felt compelled to run off, ill 
prepared, on a hopeless mission in a fragile, made over cruiser all because of an 
accidental interception and an innocuous artoo unit.

	She shook her head, returning to the present.  Now though, instead of the 
darkness of the past week, a sudden  bright, white, luminosity filled her heart, 
searching out haunted cornices, opening old, locked doors, cleansing out dirtied 
corners.   It filtered throughout her whole being, bringing peace and rest to every 
inch of her body.  She spread out her fingers  over the weathered stone of the 
bench and felt every luxurious, stony part of it, sensing, in a way she usually never 
was able to, its minute crevices, its microscopic hills and valleys.  A strange 
expression creased along her face.  She put up her hand and found  a faint smile.

	"T'anonma," she said, turning to the youthful page at her side.  Her voice 
was light and strong, surprisingly young for one on the threshold of middle age.  
"Thank you for your words.  And" she said, straightening and glancing at her 
simple chron, "I believe the Senate resumes its session in a few minutes.   We 
should go now."

	The hazel eyes smiled at her.  "Certainly, Your Excellency."

	And together, for a blinded space of time, the old guard, accompanied by 
the new, moved off through the woods, out into the sunlight and back into the 
shadowed palace.  


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

	"And so, colleagues, both old and new, we are honor bound to accept the 
invitation from this --- government," here the word fell echoing in an ominous 
manner.  But the audience, stunned, remained silent.  "They have every right, as an 
institutional entity, to request this." She turned her face quickly to one side, taking 
a breath.  "As to your objections, of which I have heard so much, I have but one 
question for you.  Do we have the right to deny the populations of the Core the 
same advantages and opportunities that we extend to other systems within the 
galaxy?  Do we  have the right to take from them this opportunity even before 
they have a chance to vote on it?  If we deny them this, what does this say about 
us?  About what we have striven so hard for, made so many sacrifices for?

	A quick silence flew into the room, like birds inadvertently flying into a 
building.    She drew breath and the swooping silence flew out again.  "Yes, I am 
well aware that this may be a trick, a feint, another tactic in our ongoing conflict.  
I, just as well as many of you, understand the danger."  The voice seemed to 
change for a moment, a quick trembling instantaneously covered. Then, with a lift 
of her head, she continued.  "However, we must stand for our beliefs, even now 
........now that we have become a government in our own right.  We must retain 
our original ideals.  For if we do not, if we lose these....." here she gave the huge 
chamber a haunted look, "we will become like those we have striven so hard to 
replace."

	Shaky silence reverberated off the monumental stone walls, like the 
aftermath of battle.  She gathered her data pad and, without waiting for any 
acknowledgment, sat down in her chair behind the speaking place.  A short silence 
filled the room, echoing more loud than any noise.   A moment passed, and a faint 
rustling occurred here and there.  Leia watched as Mon Mothma grimaced and 
shook her head.  Senator Garm Bel Iblis, of Corellia, shifted in his chair and 
Senator Lo 'kmimkar of New Honoghr, despite objections, held  to the perfect 
stillness of the ancestral hunter.  A Bothan shifted, and a Verpine, sly in the back, 
appeared as if half asleep through slitted eyes.  Only a Wookie, the Senator from 
Kashyyyk, reacted and stood.   He lifted himself to his full height, a beautiful, 
towering tree of a being, graceful and intimidating.  Leia almost winced, but 
caught herself in time.  He did not look at her.  Instead he gave the huge chamber 
a measured, courtly look and, in paced, measured Kashyyykii, he began to speak.

	He spoke in a way she had never heard Kashyyykii, despite all her years of 
experience with it, spoken.   She marveled at his beautiful phrases, beautiful for 
their sounds alone, since her understanding of Chewbacca's native language was 
always problematic at best.  A picture came into her mind, based on, perhaps, 
more understanding of Kashyyykii than she realized, along with the musical 
sounds of the language itself.  The beautiful, carefully modulated sounds portrayed 
a dark and shadowed picture; a people in abject misery, subjected to extortion, 
torture, kidnapping and slavery. Families were pulled apart one by one, village by 
village.  Wookie children left to die in the bare trees with no shelter from 
Kashyyyk's harsh climate while parents were dragged off to slavery.   And all the 
while the Empire's metal starships arrived and departed like evil, carrion birds, 
bringing more oppression, fear and death; leaving always with more slaves to be 
consumed, like so much firewood, in the never-ending orgy of tyranny that was the 
Empire.

	She resisted the urge to jump to her feet, to cry, to shout, knowing she 
could not show so much emotion in such an exposed position.  She could only 
listen with bowed head, in growing sorrow for the lives lost in the years of the 
Empire, in guilt for the terror her own family had planned.    A dark presence 
faded through her vision, a ghostly outline, nightmarish and flowing.  It paused as 
if called, it's flawless cape stilled at an impossible angle. It gazed up, its masked, 
blank eyes seeing everything, nothing.  Then it was gone, vanished to watch in the 
helplessness of the afterlife along with the other vanquished evil spirits fading 
along the grand, stone walls.

	 Leia allowed herself a split second of closed eyes.  The Wookie's trained 
voice paused and the last of the perfect modulations rested over the silent crowd 
like a fading, echoing musical chord.  At last he was finished, his measured words 
and sentences falling like a soft rain after harsh wind,  starlight after bald, fast 
lightening.

	And then, after a held silence, one by one, every Senator, every delegate, 
every page, every military official, stood, like a field of wheat growing in fast 
motion, wave upon wave of beings, turned  to the agitated Wookie Senator and 
gave him a standing ovation.   Flustered, as she rarely was, Mon Mothma glanced 
over at Leia on the raised platform and saw her standing too, tears in her dark 
eyes, giving the Wookie his due, knowing deep down that it was not enough.  The 
sound of it rose and fell over the ancient chamber like purifying rainwater, 
washing away a horrible past.  Then, like a small rainstorm bowing to sunshine, 
the  sound of the ovation faded as, reluctantly, everyone sat.  Another silence  
passed, transitory, as the washed emotions of victory at terrible cost  faded to hard 
practicality.

	When the voting was over, the measure was approved.

***************************************************
	
	Leia wanted rest, rest and quiet, but there was no time.  For, while the 
measure regarding the Core Systems' negotiation had been passed, she still had a 
personal, rather more difficult matter to discuss with Luke.

	He came to her office in the early morning as sunshine was pouring 
through the windows like liquid fire.  She glanced up, after a soft word, to see him 
standing in the room, alone.  He was dressed in a new tunic and pants, his 
lightsaber, as always, at his side.  She glanced at it, surmising that no one had 
worked up the courage to ask him to surrender it.  He was wary, but relaxed and 
in his face she recognized the workings of the Force.  

	"Good morning, Luke," she said formally.  "Please sit down."

	Nodding, uncharacteristically taciturn, he sat in the chair.  

	She glanced up at him, seeing his closed face and knew that, once again, his 
mind was silent to her.  She sighed and wished this had never happened, but 
dismissed the thought.  Wishing would not help now.

	She placed a data pad off to one side and clasped her hands together.  
Leaning a little across the sandstone desk, she engaged his gaze.  His blue eyes held 
hers, neither knowing nor innocent.  Finally, after a time, though, it was he that 
looked away.

	She spoke.  "Luke, do you love Tionne?"  It was point blank, no subtlety at 
all.

	He did not seem to mind.  "No," he answered, a dead certainty in his 
voice.  

	"Did you try to rape Tionne?" 

	This was too direct.  "Certainly not," he replied. His gaze flicked away but 
the words were straight and true.  

	Another sigh.  "That's not what Tionne says."

	He raised his eyes.  They were like crystal in off-center light, shimmering 
and refracted.  "I knew that she loved me, I've known for a long time," he began, 
as if he had rehearsed the words.

	She frowned in irritation.  "Luke, we have to get to the bottom of this, or 
I'll be unable to shield you if there are charges."  She looked away,  as if almost 
unable to bear what she had to say.  "And even if Tionne does not press 
charges.....I may be compelled, for integrity's sake, to launch a  formal 
investigation.  Or rather, to appoint someone to do so." Here she pulled her face 
into his gaze, "I can't simply brush it under the carpet.   There was too much of 
that before......"

	He nodded.  "I understand, Leia.  You do what you have to do...."

	She stood at that, a sudden anger coursing through her.  "No, that's not 
good enough, Luke," she said rather more strongly than she had first intended.  
She began to move from behind the desk.  "You can't evade me on this!  You must 
tell me what happened."  A sense of his shock at being spoken to so harshly struck 
her, but she plowed on.  "Don't you see, Brother?  You are a very important 
person to the New Republic.  You hold, at Yavin and through the new Jedi you 
send to us, the heart and soul of our ideals.   You preserve, even when we cannot, 
our integrity."  A filled silence descended here, as if she were contemplating words 
unspoken but long considered.  "Even a hint of such things as this...."  Here she 
gestured at him, at the door.  His eyes flicked once, but other than that, he made 
no reaction.  "Will be devastating to us."

	She turned into the fading sunrise, its jewel-like colors now only burnished 
copper along intricate windowpanes. She moved slowly into a silence, as if she 
were alone.  Watching her, he wondered how she managed to do it, how she 
managed to continue against all odds, never giving up, always finding alternatives.

	A sudden shame flamed up through him, but when he lifted his head to 
speak his voice was steady.  "I didn't mean for it to happen," he put in, his words 
fading to those of a simple, fallible man.  "I can't control how other people think 
of me.  I tried to give her a way out, I tried to let her go.  Even when Kyp....."

	She turned toward him, but slowly, as if nothing could surprise her 
anymore.  "What about Kyp?" 

	He shook his head, his eyes dull and tired.  "Kyp's in love with her.  He 
has been for a while now.  He pleaded with me to let her stay, to find her a place 
where she wouldn't see me so much."  He lowered his head in something like 
pained amusement.  "I guess he figured maybe she'd come around if she 
wasn't........"

	Leia stopped moving, held fast, her breath coming just a shade quicker.  
"Do you mean to tell me that you *let* her remain on Yavin just because Kyp 
thought she'd favor him over you?!  And what about Tionne's opinion of all this?  
Did either of you," her voice was sharp, critical, like a knife hissing, "ever once talk 
to Tionne herself about this?"

	His face blanked a little.  "Well, I tried...... but Kyp wouldn't say anything."  
He lifted his face. "But she must have known. I don't see how she couldn't have."

	Leia began moving again, her gown following her small movements in 
graceful curves.  She put her hands behind her back, and leaning a bit, described a 
circle before the fading window.  "Luke, this is even worse than I thought.  Sooner 
or later, it's going to get out that there's a love triangle on Yavin.  That's 
practically what the tabloids are broadcasting now, although I don't think anyone 
really believes them yet.  This can't be true."

	He bowed his head again.  "It's true, or at least some of it is.   That's why," 
here he lifted his gaze into his hands, "I asked her to leave.  I knew Kyp was gone 
from the Academy.  I knew that she had to go somewhere else, to recover, to see 
the truth."

	"You think she loves Kyp?"

	"Certainly she does," he replied.  The surety in his voice brooked no 
argument.  

	She sighed.  "Is that why you tried to kill her?"

	He lifted his eyes and a snapping, surprised violence lashed out at her.  "I 
did *not*......." he hissed.

	Glancing up at him, she found herself stepping involuntarily backwards.  
Across his face was the same, cold, commanding expression she had witnessed in 
the med center.  A shiver ran down her spine as she willed control, stillness.  But a 
short, sure anger arose instead.  "And just what were you intending, Luke?" she 
put in, hissing back.  "To teach her a lesson?"  She lifted her head, a pit of despair 
forming in her stomach.  "You, of all people, should know better than to even 
think of such things."

	He rose quickly at that, stung, his hands clenching at his sides.  She noted, 
in a calm sort of way, that his right hand brushed the lightsaber.  "What are you 
saying, Leia?" His voice was dangerous.

	She took a breath, but the words were out and there was nothing for it.  "I 
think you know, Brother.  You have come even closer to *him* over the years." 
She refused to give him time for a rejoinder, but instead moved away, so that her 
voice echoed in an accident of acoustics.  "He began in just this way, arrogant, 
unrelenting, prideful....."

	She felt the flash of hot violence reach through the air between them, a 
hand that pushed almost to her physical body.   It halted, giving her the alarming 
feeling of  a heated branding iron held too close to her face.  "I saved him, Leia, 
don't you remember?" Luke whispered, his voice burning and perilous.  "I knew 
there was good  in him........"

	She remained where she was, rooted.  "I only hope," she said, her voice 
lowering to the same dangerous key, "that someone doesn't have to do the same 
for you."

	A full minute of silence stretched between them, brother and sister, pulled 
taut almost to breaking. Jedi to Jedi, each remained where they were, standing still 
in silent combat.  A flaring of something slashed between them, hot, aggressive, 
pushed back and forth.  Then, he turned his face away and like a breath released, it 
faded, cool water in a garden.  For a moment she saw a shaft of sunlight spill 
through restless leaves.   He sat.  She moved toward him.  Rounding him, she 
began to speak.

	"Luke, I have to know what happened between you and Tionne.  If that 
means dragging Kyp in here, I'll do it.  You have to explain it to me.  We can't....," 
she continued to move, as if the physical act of walking helped her concentration, 
"we can't have even a suspicion of Father's methods or intentions."  A sudden 
determination took hold, molding her voice.  "I refuse to let such a thing happen.  
And, I warn you," she continued, turning her profile to him, as if edging her 
words to the same, sharp, 90 degree angle, "don't try to block me out.  I 'll have to 
interpret that as lying."  A cutting silence followed.

	He swallowed, gazed at her for a long minute in something like defiance 
and then retreated.  "I understand," he said quietly.  And, at her nod, he began to 
talk.  He spoke knowingly of Tionne, how he, at first, had not meant to hurt her, 
how she had come to him, confronted him.  How she had tempted him, without 
seeming to know that she was tempting.  He spoke of a deflected anger, about 
Callista, about the fact that Callista had not communicated with him for more 
than two years now.   

	But when he got to the events that lead him to Tionne's charges, his words 
halted, taken by confusion and darkness.  Leia wasn't too sure, but she thought she 
saw fear there, buried somewhere in all that confusion.

	"You mean you don't know how you, or your spirit, came to be in 
Tionne's room?"

	He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  "All I know is," he said, looking a 
little desperate, an expression she hadn't seen on his face in years, "is that I 'woke 
up' there and after that, I only remember feeling.........hate, then love, then ....... and 
then I drew my lightsaber....."

	"Did you want to kill her?"

	He lowered his gaze to the floor and his voice was low with humiliation.  
"Yes..... at just that moment I wanted to kill her."

	Leia sighed.  The light in the window, now headed toward the lunch hour, 
was long past the bright fire of dawn.  It was only ordinary daylight, plain and flat.  
Simple, deceptive.  "Did you know that she had a message for you from Callista?"

	His mouth dropped open and quickly, almost eagerly, she noted with some 
discomfiture, he looked up at her.  "No, I didn't.  Are you sure?"

	"She'd received it six months before.  You never knew?"

	Slowly, in the throes of true astonishment, he shook his head.  "How did 
she hide it from me?" he asked wonderingly of thin air. Then he faced Leia again.  
"What......what.... did the message say....?"

	Leia turned and, in a quiet rustle of gowned elegance, pulled a message 
cube from a small shelf  behind her chair.  "Here, look at it yourself.  I'll give you 
ten minutes."  Her voice was dull and flat with pain, like the daylight that plodded 
through her paned windows.  Without letting him speak she made toward the 
table and set the cube quietly upon it.  She gave him a searching look  before she 
bowed her head and exited the room.

	A moment of pure, dead silence followed his sister's exit.  Then slowly, as 
if  his hands were made of lead, he made a small motion over the innocuous thing 
and magically, Cray Mingla's holo appeared in striking simplicity on the table 
before him.  Her hair had finally grown out, and just as he suspected, it was the 
malt color of Callista rather than the blonde of Mingla.  The face was gaunt and 
thin, but the eyes were the same:  smoky and enigmatic.  A vision of a ship, 
darkened and filthy, leapt to his mind, of  amber words floating up whole into 
half-repaired comm screens.  His heart began to race.

	"Luke," the holo said, its face looking slightly distorted.  "I'm sorry it's 
taken me so long to send this."  There was a hesitation and then she plunged on, as 
if afraid to stop. For a frightened moment he felt as if Cray had come back to life, 
that Callista had never existed......  "I've decided, after a long time away, that I can 
never be what you want me to be....."

	He shifted in his chair, numb, too stunned even to stand.  "I never wanted 
you to be anything more than what you were...." he whispered, as if the very words 
were ripped from him, syllable by syllable.  

	"I can only see the Darkside, Luke," she went on, her six-month-old holo 
oblivious, of course, to him.  "I can't subject you to that.  You're too important to 
the New Republic.  You're too important to..... to everyone."  She spread her fine, 
long-fingered hands palms upward in a gesture of surrender and he noticed, in a 
fit of perceptiveness, that she still wore her lightsaber.   "I'm just a failed Jedi, 
washed up.  I've had to give up."   She drew breath and her face changed, so that 
momentarily she did not look anything like either Cray or Callista.  "I prefer to 
live my life without you ......... and I think we'll both be better off."  The figure, 
again so reminiscent of Cray, looked into the holo screen for a moment, as if 
speechless.   Finally, after a feeling of breathlessness came and went, words formed 
on the beautiful lips, simple words, killing words.  "Forgive me, Luke."  The words 
echoed from somewhere out of the past.  "Good-bye."  And with that, the small 
screen faded into dreaded static. 

	When Leia returned twenty minutes later, she found her brother staring 
into a middle space, the message cube still projecting a small shaft of comforting 
static.   She seated herself  at the table with great quietude and deliberation, 
directly across from him. Finally gazing over at him, through the low static storm, 
she thought she saw just for a moment, through a narrow shadow, the tracings of 
one tear glimmering down the worn face and into the black night of his high 
collar.   


Samizdat -- Chapter Four 


Detention Center, Coruscant

	Mara Jade, looking alert, strode up to the large booth that marked the 
subdued entrance to the Detention Center and halted in a flash of self-confidence.   
Her green eyes held the guard's, steady.  He was young, young enough to be proud 
of a three day stubble on his rosy face, young enough to have unruly hair and a 
small case of acne.  A passing thought left her wondering why he didn't go over to 
the med center for it, like everyone else.  

	He gave her a questioning look, not recognizing her.  "Can I help you?" 
he asked, masking his youth, along with the attendant inexperience, under his 
impression of a gruff exterior.

	She smiled a little, but not too warmly.  It was a short flashing of teeth, 
meant to  prove there was no weapon, so please don't check.   She nodded.  "Yes.  
I'm here to see Luke Skywalker," she said quietly.

	A small whitening of his scarred face answered her question.  "Uh.....he's 
not really seeing anyone at the moment," the guard began, flipping a switch on his 
console.  

	She retained her outer calmness.  "I know that," she replied calmly.  "But 
I'm not some holonet reporter. I'm Mara Jade, of the Smuggler's Alliance.  If 
you'll check, I  think you'll see my name's on your list."

	His eyes flicked in non-recognition.  She resisted the urge to stand on 
tiptoe to look and merely watched passively from flat feet as he perused, very 
carefully, a small list on a tiny screen.  Her name was there, small and official.  She 
could just make it out upside down and backwards.  

	"So, it is," he said quietly and glanced back up at her.  "But first,  I need 
an ID and  a weapons' check."

	She spread her hands and pulled the holoed ID wafer out of a convenient 
pocket.  "Go ahead," she replied, handing it to him and obligingly stepping away 
from the booth.  A golden light appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, tiny tendrils 
of energy pinged down and through her clothing.  An alarm went off.  She 
frowned at the room and glanced at him.  "I don't have any weapons," she said, 
seemingly mystified, shrugging her shoulders.

	"You have  a lightsaber," he replied as her gave one more up-and-down 
look, just for good measure.  "You'll have to check it here."

	She hesitated, fingering the precious thing.  "I'd rather not," she replied 
calmly.

	He shifted in his seat, but otherwise showed no sign of  backing down.  "I 
have my orders," he warned, his voice hiking a bit.  "If you prefer, you can key it 
into one of the lockers along the wall.  That way, you're the only one with access 
to it."  

	She glanced back at the wall.  Sure enough, it was honeycombed with 
small holes, some of which held various and sundry things lit with dim energy 
fields.  Most of the holes gazed back at her, dark and empty.  She glanced back at 
the guard, a new respect flashing through her expression.  "I don't have a choice, 
do I?" she said, unnecessarily.

	"No one visits Master Skywalker with a lightsaber," he replied tightly, 
handing the ID  back to her.  "I have very specific orders."

	She sighed.  "Okay, I give in.  Give me one of the keys."

	He handed her a small, pill-sized box.  She did not actually pull lightsaber 
from her belt, it unlatched itself and floated, seemingly of its own volition, 
through the air and into an appropriate place.  Her hands remained unmoving as 
the field was activated and the key box dropped, magically, into a side pocket of 
her flight suit.

	She glanced up at the guard, waiting for him to remove the force field.  
He hit another point on his board and grinned.  "Very impressive," he said, not 
intimidated at all.  "Just don't try that down the hall.   We've got Ysalamiri."

	She nodded, grinning back at him.  "I'll remember that," she replied.

	An escort appeared, noiselessly, as if from the air itself.   This surprised 
her a little, as the place looked rather non-threatening for a medium security 
cellblock.  She did not see any other guards.  The walls had once been an 
institutional white, but the now the color was faded to worn-out cream.  The 
lights were flat and hard and the whole thing looked threadbare, if humane.   Mara 
grinned a little.  A Jedi Master in medium security?  Maybe Leia figured Luke had 
too much integrity to make a run for it.

	 The cells were private, clean, even comfortable, at least by Imperial 
standards.  There were no open, barred holding areas, or ominous doorways 
leading to windowless caves filled with the forbidding technology of torture.  
Only neat  rooms, simply furnished and painted the same faded white. Some were 
even equipped with doors for privacy, but the bare floors were noisy and echoing.   
The escort nodded, his head indicating a direction, gave her a wary eye, and led 
her down a further hall.   

	She glanced around, her old training taking over as she absorbed her 
surroundings while appearing to only glance at them.   She noted no more guard 
stations, but every meter or so there were motion sensors along with sophisticated 
force field traps set into the halls.  A surveillance camera, a newer model, eyed the 
hall, up and down, quiet and methodical.  Her study was interrupted when the 
guard came to a small energy field which shielded a door leading down another, 
unexpected corridor.  He  keyed it off, stepped over the threshold, and keyed it 
back on again.  "Wait here," he said to her, not cold, but not entirely polite either.

	She waited behind the silent but shimmering light, a  rising impatience not 
entirely hidden.  She lifted her head and wondered where the Ysalamiri had come 
from.  Maybe, she thought in passing, Talon had  supplied them after all.   She 
shook her head, noting that sometimes he wasn't always truthful with her, 
especially when he thought facts would hurt.  She grimaced a little, wincing at a 
few memories.  But then, what were friends for, if not to spend the worst 
moments of your life with?  Her thoughts were swiftly interrupted when she saw 
the guard step out of a cell  towards the end of the hall. The force field keyed off.

	"Please enter," the guard said from his place, not having to raise his voice 
at all.  She glanced around, marveling at the acoustics.  Whispered conversations, 
conversations of any kind for that matter, would have to be avoided, she warned 
herself.  She stepped over the lightless threshold which lit up again with alarming 
swiftness just as her rear foot crossed over.   Quietly, the impatience again muted, 
she made her way to a doorway, the one the guard had just exited from.

	The man stepped aside, his well exercised muscles lending grace even to  
that simple motion.  "He's ready to see you now.  You have half an hour.  No 
more is permitted."  He held out a confident hand.  "Watch your step."

	She nodded but refused the hand.  "I understand."

	She stepped carefully over an almost knee high threshold and into a room 
where she was suddenly blind and deaf.  Glancing around in a moment of 
disorientation, with only her regular senses making all seem flat and two 
dimensional, she saw that it was actually a comfortable space, clean, the aged 
cream simultaneously blinding and drab.  There was a holonet receiver in the 
corner, silent, blank faced and nosey.  A series of slits let in light from somewhere 
near the ceiling, ringing three fourths of the wall area in an improbable necklace 
of  sunshine.  She turned, noting a couple of chairs, a desk and a metal bed.  Luke 
was sitting on one of the chairs.

	"Nice of you to get up," she said as the door closed behind her.

	He waved a hand.  "No need," he said softly.  "Not that you're the first 
person in here today."

	She smiled.  "The Master Skywalker Fan Club, I assume?"

	He grimaced.  "Hardly.   Friends are dropping like flies in winter,"  he 
said, smiling, but it was a hopeless expression. His face was pale and rather 
haggard.

	"Well, tell me about it," she said, pulling at the empty chair and coming to 
sit near him.   "Just who has graced you with their presence today?"

	Luke turned in the chair, gave her a quiet look and then twisted back, 
lacing his hands behind his head.  "Han, for one.   He's trying to cheer me up.  
And Chewie." A smile graced the face here.  "And a while after that Kyp, but he's 
not really in a talking mood......"

	She glanced away from him.  "I think the incident, during the time 
you........ regained consciousness really  took a lot out of him.  Even Tionne's had a 
little trouble since...."

	His face darkened and she pulled silent.  "She's not the only one," he put 
in, with a large sigh.   The room was flat and ordinary, all contact with the Force 
cut off.  It was as if they were under a shroud, held in a lead coffin, buried within 
imprisoning ground.  She glanced at him, but his eyes were closed.  Quite 
suddenly, she began to realize how disturbing this was for him.  For not only was 
he under indictment for some rather serious charges, but now it was as if he had 
lost the use of his eyes or his hearing.   His thread to the Force, usually so strong 
and true, was now useless and the ache of its loss was growing, hour by hour, 
within his already torn soul.        

	Her face softened a bit.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring her up, unless 
of course, you want me to."

	He frowned.  "Seems like she's all I've talked about ever since I regained 
consciousness.  Her and Callista...."

	"What does Leia say?"  She took her gaze away, a little thrown by the 
mention of Callista.

	"Not much," he replied, his voice low.  "She's informed me that it's out of 
her hands now.  She has a conflict of interest, so she's had to appoint an 
Independent Investigator."  He shook his head.  "It looks bad."

	She dropped her head.  "Luke, you've got to understand," she began, 
trying to reason with him, and perhaps, with herself.  "She can't leave the 
perception that she's trying to throw this in any way....."

	He stood, a sudden movement, his weight was centered on the ground, his 
usual grace completely exiled along with the Force.  "But, I didn't do it, Mara!" A 
desperate note sounded in his young/old voice. "I didn't try to kill Tionne.  All I 
did was try to send her away.  I was worried about her.  I was never jealous of 
Kyp's feelings for her.  In fact," he sighed here, a little embarrassed, "I tried to get 
her to notice him more."  Here a wry grin momentarily replaced resignation.  
"Still, I guess we didn't handle that very well, Kyp and I.   I wish I'd had some 
advice...."

	She gazed at him, at his slender frame now moving from one corner of the 
room to the other, at the well used hands, at the sand colored beard stubble.   The 
eyes, long ago a heartthumping blue, now seemed almost gray with uncertainty 
and exhaustion.  She felt a rising anger not only with Luke, but also with Kyp, for 
his arrogance in the matter of Tionne.  It angered her that the young Jedi's desire 
for the standoffish musician/administrator  had led to this.  "Well, I agree with 
that..... Leia was right. It was an arrogant thing to do," she put in, with little or no 
sympathy.

	He shook his head, hearing the hardness in her voice and she held silent 
for a moment, thinking.  "Leia doesn't believe you, though," she said after a time.  
It wasn't a question.

	He stopped and came to stand beside her, a hand on her narrow shoulder.  
"I don't know if that's really it anymore," he said, resignation in his voice.  "You're 
right about the perception stuff, though."  He removed the hand and waved it, 
narrowly missing hitting her on the side of the head.  "It's just that there has to be 
something else to all this.  I know there is.  I just can't figure out what happened."  

	Moving with some deliberation, he  pulled the empty chair closer to 
Mara's, so that he could grasp her hands.  "Mara," he said, facing her, turning her 
small hands over in his work worn ones, "do you remember any of the visions you 
saw during the time I regained consciousness?"

	She let him turn her hands over and over again, let him rub his fingers 
along the palms and the delicate backs, let him study the short, stubby fingernails 
without embarrassment, without resistance.  She closed her eyes, her mind on the 
question.  "Well, I only remember this deep sense of fear, and maybe rocks or dirt 
...... something gritty anyway.  I kept thinking afterward I should take a shower......"  
She smiled here, but the expression faded as she concentrated.   "There was salt 
there too, I could taste it, which doesn't make any sense."  Her  hands fell limp.   
"But, you're right, there was something else ......... something red..... maybe sunlight 
or a fire......"

	Abruptly he dropped her hands.  She opened her eyes and gracefully 
pulled them out of the way as he straightened.  "A  red light..... and sand."  His 
face pulled for a moment.  "No, it can't be!" he said after a while as she watched, 
quizzical.   His face changed and the eyes shone, momentarily, in the indirect 
light.  "Beggar's Canyon!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing a bit off the bare walls.

	A puzzlement spread across her face as her brows furrowed.  "What about 
'Beggar's Canyon?'" she ventured, not really sure where he was going.  

	"It may be nothing," he said, his face brightening.  "But for a while there, 
while I was in Tionne's room, or thought I was anyway," he said, giving her a 
hopeless grin, "it seemed as though I was back home, running my landspeeder 
through Beggar's Canyon.  I had the impression that......"

	Mara's brows furrowed even more.  Hastily she glanced around the room, 
looking for a stashed bottle.  "Skywalker, you haven't been drinking, have you?"

	He answered without thinking, his mind somewhere else.  "Don't be 
ridiculous, Jade.  Alcohol isn't allowed in here."  He stood and continued.  "I kept 
thinking there was someone there beside me, someone I was talking to.  I thought 
for a while that maybe it was Biggs....... but no, that's not right somehow."

	She gave him a hard glance, resisting the urge to grimace at the mention 
of his long dead friend.  "Who could it be then?  Or was it just a dream?"

	Again, he walked to the corner and back, a motion she could see had 
become already habitual during the short time he had been there.  "It wasn't a 
man, or a boy, I should say...... that's ........ that's what's throwing me off......   
Trouble is...." here his face puckered in something like old embarrassment, "I had 
no girlfriends on Tatooine....."

	She gave way to a feeling of surprise.  "Girlfriends?  Are you sure it was a 
girlfriend?"

	He shook his head and stopped moving.  Now he simply stood, flat on 
both feet, in the middle of the drab room.  "I'm not sure about anything, anymore.   
But that's the feeling I got......"

	"You didn't ever take your Aunt out riding, did you?" she asked before 
she thought.

	"Blast! Don't say that!" he replied swiftly, his voice ratcheting a little.  
"Besides," he grinned in old memory, "if she had  been with me on some of those 
trips she wouldda never let me out of her sight again."

	Mara sighed.  "So, its a girlfriend, on Tatooine, riding in your old 
landspeeder, through Beggar's Canyon....... makes no sense at all, Skywalker.

	"And a red light," he put in, frowning.

	"And a red light," she repeated, like a child being led through a lesson.

	A silence followed.   The guard buzzed the comm, which broke through 
the silence like razor blades, sharp, startling and painful.  "Five minutes!"  The 
filtered voice echoed harshly from the faded walls, onto the bare floors and away 
again, reverberating disagreeably.

	Luke sighed, the old resignation falling back over his features.  He sat in 
the chair again.  Her hands were in his.  "You'll have to go soon......" he said softly, 
fingering her thumbs.

	She gazed over his bent head, ignoring him.   There was something there, 
something that wouldn't leave her, some picture in her mind.  The red light...... if 
only she could relax enough, be passive enough........... Silence fell, precious time 
ran by, water down a lost stream.  The Force was silent.  But then, the vision was 
already in her mind.  All she had to do was see it.  A picture presented itself and 
she moved, her head jerking a little.  
	
	"It was a lightsaber," she said, her voice clear and cold in the warm, little 
room.  

	His head came up.  "What.....?"  And then the blue eyes snapped in 
recognition.  "That's it, that's when I knew I wasn't in Tionne's room!   I was 
carrying a red lightsaber....."

	Mara stood, a thumping in her heart.  "But, how did you get it?  Why do 
you remember being there?"

	He shook his head, following her to his feet.  "I don't know, Mara," he 
said, his confusion becoming palatable.  "All I know is that I never meant to do it, 
that I had no intention of doing it, that it never even occurred to me.  And then 
there I was..... or thought I was, anyway."  He looked down at his hands, empty 
and but somehow, despite everything, still powerful.  "All I know is that, when I 
saw that lightsaber, that's when the whole thing started to crumble......"  he 
stopped, his words inadequate.

	Gazing at him, time running out, she gave him an assessing look.  A sour, 
thinking  look appeared on her face and, it seemed to him that she made a 
momentary motion, a subtle shifting of weight  toward him.  But the moment 
passed, fleeting seconds lost and irretrievable.  Instead, she moved away, her hands 
disappearing into pockets.  "Don't worry, Luke," she said softly, her voice low, but 
businesslike "we'll figure out what happened."

	He nodded at her well meaning words and stepped away.  Without further 
ceremony, she met the guard at the door.  She fully intended not to, but found 
herself glancing back as she turned up the hall.  Just before the door swung shut, 
she saw that he had sat down in the chair again and now held motionless, head 
bowed, hands limp in front of him.

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

	Mara made her way back to her apartment, the one she always occupied 
when on Coruscant.  Quietly, in the warm, wood scented room, she checked the 
comm for messages, scrolling through several, glass in hand.  Nothing interesting, 
nothing even pertinent.  There was evidently a minor deal going down within the 
Smuggler's Alliance.   The news of the day was, of course, the implementation of 
negotiations with the Core Systems.  And, further, the incarceration of Master 
Luke Skywalker on suspicion of attempted murder.  Mara smiled at the shock, the 
outrage.  As for the first, amongst smugglers, it could only be seen as opportunity.  
As for the second, the foibles of the high and mighty were of little concern.

	She turned away from the console about an hour later, following an old 
fashioned knock at the door.  She opened the door to find herself  looking 
straight into Kyp Durron's steely face, along with Kam Salusar who stood slightly 
behind and the left.  They both wore dark, jedi robes, and looked rather too 
mysterious for the nondescript corridor they currently occupied.  She smiled 
wryly and let them in.

	"And to what," she began in a voice laced with sarcasm, "do I owe this 
august visit?"

	Kyp gave Kam a questioning glance, as if deciding who should speak first.  
An awkward silence ensued.  Kyp glanced down at the floor.   Kam was the one 
who spoke.  "We've come to ask for your help," he said in a slow, serious way.

	She motioned for them to sit and, without asking, poured drinks all 
round.  "Is this a negotiation?" she asked, more for time than information, setting 
the glasses down carefully.  Kam leaned forward, but Kyp remained  aloof and sat 
back. 

	"Uh, well, I guess you could call it that," Kam continued.  "We need your 
help with Master Skywalker."

	Mara sighed and gave them a sharp look, the green eyes flashing.  "Master 
Skywalker is currently in detention," she said flatly.  "What's the point here?"  she 
continued,  a little impatient.

	Kyp was the one who answered.  "Master Skywalker is innocent.  You 
know this as well as we do...."

	Mara stood.  "Do I?"  She turned away from them.  "And how do you 
know this?"

	Kyp gave her a look that fairly bristled.  But she only felt it.  "I've heard 
you say so, at least privately.  Besides," his eyes took on a certain gleam, "I can feel 
it in your thoughts."

	This caused a quick anger.  "How dare you!?" she said her voice rising.  
"How dare you invade my thoughts!"  She turned back to face him, the stem of 
the delicate glass in her hand held suddenly too strongly.  "Is this what you've 
been taught on Yavin?"  She took a furious turn away from him, striding suddenly 
long and sure.  "Then, perhaps, it's a good thing it dies....."

	Kam's face puckered and he gave the other Jedi an impatient look.  "What 
Kyp means......"

	"I know what Kyp means," Mara said, fairly spitting at the both of them, 
still moving.  "I would throw the both of  you out of here,...... now, Jedi or 
not.......... "  a savage silence filled the beautiful room, "that is, if I didn't agree with 
you."

	A moment of astonishment followed as the two digested this morsel of 
information.  "You mean you'll help us?"

	She nodded and took another sip from the glass.  "Of course I'll help." A 
sigh of exasperation for the willful blindness of Jedi occurred here. "We've got to 
get him out of here.  Whatever's really gunning for him will return and this time," 
she said, remembering vividly the Ysalamir laced room, "he won't be able to 
defend himself."  A  moment of gathering thought followed this statement.  "We 
can't take  him back to Yavin, though,  that's too obvious.  Besides, I have a 
feeling Yavin's been cleared out ....."

	Kam sighed and wondered why Mara was always two steps ahead.  "They 
sent everybody on 'sabbatical.'" he said, almost delicately.  "That's why we were 
considering taking him there, since, right now, it's deserted."

	Mara sat.  "That's the first place his sister'll look," she said quickly, 
brooking no argument.   "No, that's not a good idea."  She thought for a moment, 
unconsciously pulling one leg up underneath her in the cushioned love seat, as if 
she were reading a light novel or filing her stubby nails.  After a silent time her 
gaze returned from a long distance and she focused on the two young men sitting 
before her.  

	"I think we should go to the Rim," she said, startling both of them.

	"Why?" Kam asked after an astonished moment.  

	"Because, whatever's happening, whoever's attacking us, or Luke,  through 
the Force..........  It's all got something to do with this Core Systems proposal, I 
know it."

	"But how.....?" Kam began, but Kyp put a hand on his arm, silencing him.

	"Because that's where this hot, political proposal came from, from the 
Rim....  someplace in the Rasclann system........"  She pulled her green eyes back to 
them, a certainty waving through them, strong, almost physical. "And, I don't 
think it's much of an accident that all this Force stuff started at about the same 
time our friends in the Core Systems began making overtures."  She stood again, 
turned and began  pacing, placing one foot gracefully in front the other, like a 
panther stalking through forest.   "Something's going on here, folks.  And Leia's 
certainly not going to find it.  We gotta find it ourselves.  And we gotta take Luke 
with us."

	The two, darkly dressed men looked at each other.  "Then, you'll help us," 
Kam said after a time, making certain.

	Mara gave him a withering look.  "I think we've covered that already, Jedi 
Salusar," she said icily.  "All we need now is a plan."

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

	It was the same guard as before.  Mara saw his pudgy face from a distance 
and smiled to herself.   After all, it's much easier to talk up someone you've 
established a relationship with, no matter how cursory.  She frowned a bit, giving 
in to a ridiculous, embarrassed feeling.   Mascara tickled her eyelids, making her 
fight not to rub them.  And blush, liberally applied, greased the sides of her face. 
Her hair was upswept, pulled attractively off what turned out to be a rather long 
neck.    Her flight suit had been replaced with something slightly more stylish, if 
still rather practical but tight fitting.  It's material was black, soft and a little 
luminous, even under the drab, prison lighting.  

	Once in range, she smiled for the guard's benefit, another wary, smuggler's 
smile, not giving too much away.  Excessive friendliness would tip him off. 

	"Hello," she said formally, walking slowly up to the isolated booth.  "I'm 
here to see Master Skywalker."

	He glanced up at her, no doubt absorbing the makeup job, not to mention 
the clothing, but refrained from comment.  "You know the rules," he said, 
gesturing slightly.  "ID and weapons' check;  no lightsabers."

	She gave him another wary smile, this time of submission.  "I didn't bring 
it with me, tonight," she said, lowering her voice with just a hint of suggestion. 

	He squinted at her, looking her up and down, just as before.  After the 
checks, the force field was dutifully lifted and the escort appeared.  A small breeze 
seemed to move in behind her and, suspicious, the booth guard glanced up at the 
ventilation grid.  A few points on his console lit up, colorfully suggesting a 
malfunction in the air conditioning system.  "Damn techs!" he said, muttering to 
himself.  

	She stopped.  "What was that?" she asked, polite but a little nervous.   A 
moment of control allowed her to keep her hands perfectly still. 

	He glanced at her, but failed to register the expression on her face.  
"Sorry," he said quickly.  "We had some repair people in here today, but looks like 
they didn't do their job...."

	"Oh," she replied, sounding truly concerned.  "Anything I can do?"

	He smiled at that, as an adult smiles at a well-meaning child who offers to 
help with something complicated. "Thanks, but I'll just put in a work order later 
on," he replied, pressing yet another series of pressure points on his board.  He 
signaled at the escort.  "The field's up."

	Swiftly, as if leading someone along, she pushed her way into it.  She 
glanced back as the lethal lights snapped back into position.  His head was bent 
over the board again, absorbed in the malfunction.

	The escort smiled a confident smile, affecting the neutral facial expression 
of all who worked in detention.  He kept his eyes straight ahead, although he 
noted her clothing, her hair, even the trace of gold on her wrist.  They approached 
the force fielded door.

	Signaling her to wait, he keyed it off and stepped through.  The lights 
buzzed on instantaneously, startling her in spite of herself.  He gave her a quick 
look.  "Wait here," he said unnecessarily.  She nodded and watched as he moved 
off, down the corridor.  

	"That was too obvious," she sent to the young man standing beside her, as 
soon as the guard disappeared into Luke's cell.   Kyp shrugged. 

	His thoughts were more positive. "I don't think so.  Anyway, they fell for 
it."   

	She glanced up at the second guard, who was returning.  She turned her 
back to him, noting with rising uneasiness the surveillance camera.  "Remember," 
she thought to him, even her mental words hasty and low, "they' ve got the place 
rank with Ysalamiri down at the end of the corridor.  You can't do anything down 
there.  You'll have to wait here."

	Kyp gave her a searching look but nodded.  "Alright,  but hurry," he 
replied, although no words passed his lips.  "We've only got a window of about 
two hours ......... "

	Mara nodded and Kyp, gesturing toward the guard with his hand, 
remained perfectly still as the man approached.  The guard  sniffed as he keyed off 
the force field.  Smiling in an even way, he led the woman to Skywalker's cell and, 
with a comforting leer, which took in, much to her discomfiture, her outfit in one 
practiced look, opened the door.  She was allowed to enter after the standard 
admonition regarding time limits.    

	Quietly, Mara stepped over the high, barrier-like threshold.   Quickly, her 
eyes took in the room, even as her Force sense suffered a sudden disorientation. 
"Luke?" she said.  She heard the door shut behind her.

	He was sitting on the edge of the bed.  "Over here," he replied, his voice 
still soft with sleep.  "What's up?  Another visit?  Or did someone find more 
evidence?"

	Agitated, she hurried over to him.  She sat down beside him, so closely 
that their legs touched.  "Are you ready to leave?" she asked, turning her head 
away from the holonet receiver.

	He glanced at her, at her position on the bed next to him, startled as she 
put her  hand tenderly on his forearm.  His face was puzzled.  "They're letting me 
go?" he asked, with more hope than he first intended.

	"Not in so many words," Mara replied, leaning into him, quick and sure.  

	His eyes snapped to, awakening all in one instant.  "What's the plan?" he 
asked, to her relief, leaning toward her.  She rested her head on his shoulder, an 
intimate gesture, all the better to be certain that her lips could not be seen by the 
holonet receiver.  Quietly, efficiently, even ruthless, she told him the whole thing.

	A few minutes later, Luke and Mara were prone on the bed, her black, 
high necked suit unbuttoned   almost down to the cleavage.    Her hair was pulled 
out of its bonds, it's red gold falling in shimmering light over his hands, 
disheveled, almost windswept.  A smear of make up, the kind affected by certain 
females of ill repute, dirtied one side of his face.  A flush fell over both of them.  

	She gave him an appraising look.  "At least you look the part," she 
whispered passionately, with more than a little amusement.

	"What now?" he whispered back, all business.

	She rolled her eyes.  "Well, if you have to ask......"

	"Mara!" This was exasperation.

	She grinned.  "I couldn't resist."  She reached up to put her arm around 
his neck drawing him to her.  "Okay," she said into his ear, "you need to get on 
top of me, as if you're holding me down....."

	A fierce blush arose at that.  But, a little to her surprise, he rolled his body 
expertly, effectively pinning her.   At that, she began to cry, large wet tears 
spoiling whatever was left of her rather overdone makeup.   It streaked in a most 
unattractive fashion.  For good measure, he grabbed her arms, pulling them 
fiercely down to her sides, against the bed.    

	"Am I hurting you?" he asked, real concern on his face.

	"It's only for  a minute," she replied a little too briskly.  Giving him no 
chance to reply, she, turned her face away and began to shout.  Her voice was 
surprisingly well-developed and carrying for so small a woman. "Luke!" she yelled, 
"you can't do this to me!  I don't want..........No!........ Luke!!" The shout became a 
scream and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Luke blanche and felt him 
release his grip.

	"No!" she whispered urgently at him, out of the side of her mouth. 
"Tighter!"  A quick, frenzied glance registered a red, blinking light on the control 
panel of the holonet receiver. 

	He resumed his hurting grip just as the guard keyed open the door, who 
tripped awkwardly over the high threshold as he rushed in.  Mara struggled, a wild 
woman under Luke's weight, almost throwing him off.  He found himself holding 
her arms in a killer grip, using all of his weight to keep her down.  It was perfect.    

	The guard ran quickly to the bed, more than ready to stop the rape in 
progress.  But, just as he grabbed one of Luke's arms, distracting him, Mara saw 
her chance and threw her weight over. Both Luke and the guard tumbled off the 
narrow bed.    The two men hit the floor hard, Mara bringing up the rear, 
scrambling to her feet.  Quickly, her reflexes surprisingly good without the Force, 
she got around to the rear of the guard and wrenched his arm up behind,  to a 
painful, breaking angle.  Luke struggled to his feet, breathing hard.  Smoothly, his 
reflexes taking over, he rescued the blaster from the guard's surprised hand.  

	"Stun him!" Mara hissed, realizing that the holonet receiver had a full view 
of her face.  The look on Luke's face spoke of palatable resistance.

	"Stun him!  Or we won't make it out of here!"

	A blast of white hot light felled the guard into a pitiful heap.  Mara 
dropped her grip and stood.   She took his hand as he swung around and leaned 
into him.  "Hold the blaster on me.  Hurry!" 

	He pointed the blaster at the vicinity of her neck, helped her over the 
high, barrier-like threshold that marked the doorway to his cell and they ran, still 
holding hands, full out, up the corridor.  About halfway up a wave of knowledge 
and light hit the both of them, like swimming from murky to clear water.  Mara 
staggered  a little, but Luke, as if coming into a full state of consciousness after a 
light doze, clutched at her arm in earnest, pulling her along.   Traps and motion 
sensors began to blink and die in disorienting showers of sparks as Luke pulled at 
them through the Force.  The force field at the end of the corridor flashed as they 
neared it, but there was no alarm yet.   It darkened, and Mara almost collapsed 
with relief.  He pushed her through and followed hastily.  The lights rang to life 
behind them, as if they were spring loaded.  

	"Kyp!" Luke whispered, his voice cutting in the perfect acoustics.   

	"Are you alright, Master?" Kyp asked, taking him by the shoulders.  

	Luke smiled, the first big smile Kyp had seen on his face in a long time.  
"For now, Kyp."  He gestured with a good-natured grin.  "Where to?"

	"Trouble," Mara said, indicating direction with a worried gaze.   As she 
feared, the perfect acoustics had betrayed them.  There, standing in full view, 
behind a fully activated force field, was the guard at the booth.  His weapon was 
raised in shooting position and his sense was very clear.   

	"Halt!" the guard yelled, all youth lost under the influence of very good 
training.  For a wild moment, Mara cursed the New Republic enlisted infantry 
training regimen, casting her eyes around, at the walls, the smooth, impregnable 
ceiling, even at the floor.  She kicked an impossibly small vent.

	Luke read her thought.  "Now there's one of  your older tactics, Mara," he 
said almost lazy, his grin flashing.  "That's the first thing they eliminated when 
they rebuilt...."

	"No garbage mashers, huh?" she put in, her eyes never retreating from 
their study of their surroundings. "Damn!  That'd be about perfect right now...."

	The voice came through again.  Disconcertingly, the guard had heard 
every word they said.  "There's no way out!" he said, raising his weapon a little.  "I 
order you to surrender!"

	Luke glanced at Kyp.  "Ready?"  Kyp nodded.  A small humming at the 
back of her mind warned Mara, caused her to take a small step backwards.  An 
alarm sprang to life somewhere down the corridor and she knew reinforcements 
were on their way.

	With a suddenness that belied reality, the force field in front of the guard 
vanished as if it had never been.  The young man, startled, shifted his weight.  
Knowing, somehow, what was coming, he fired. At almost the same moment his 
weapon flew out of his hand, leaving only clutching fingers.  It flew down the 
corridor, racing the light, a black blur, into Kyp's waiting fingers.  The gun came 
first and followed by the light. Kyp fell with a cry, clutching his arm.  The guard, 
glancing at his empty hand in surprise, immediately ducked as Luke scooped up 
the weapon and fired.    The thing was only set for stun, but off balance, Luke 
missed completely, so now they had not only a conscious, if disarmed, guard but, 
about this time, another problem rounded the bend.

	"The alarms!" Mara hissed.  "That'll be reinforcements!!  We gotta get 
outta here!"

	Luke nodded and his face  furrowed in a sudden concentration,.  After a 
long moment, he signaled and they ran forward, Kyp supported by Mara and 
Luke, past the now unconscious guard.  Mara spared the inert form a glance, 
hoping he was alright.  Luke did not look back but replied to her concern.  "He'll 
be fine, Mara -- just a headache, that's all."

	A group of uniforms clattered at the far end of the hall, forcing the 
escapees back into  a side doorway.  The sign read Administration, lit by the red 
flash of the emergency beacon.  The three sank into the temporary cover and drew 
together.  Kyp shivered and clutched the top of his arm, holding it close.  Mara 
put her arm around him, leaning him, with strange gentleness for so 
straightforward a woman, into her shoulder.  He closed his eyes concentrating on 
the pain.  

	"You gonna make it?" she asked, looking into his face.

	He nodded.  "It's painful, but I'll be fine," he replied,  a complete 
sentence.  His voice was strained.

	Luke, suddenly powerful again, gathered the other two to him with his 
eyes.  "Remember....... quiet," he said, his voice coming back to its habitual 
command mode.  Kyp nodded, eyes closed but an exhilarated half grin on his face.  
Mara closed her eyes, bent on remembering the exercise.  Luke gave her a 
questioning glance.  

	"Listen, I haven't been to Yavin in a while....."  she began, noting his 
regard even with closed eyes.

	"You should drop by more often.  Looks like you need the practice," Luke 
said wryly. 

	.    "Okay, ready," she said after a moment, willing away a sudden urge to 
belt him.  Her mind was quiet serene, peaceful, like an ocean of glass or a 
breezeless pond sleeping in afternoon sunlight.  

	The uniforms clattered into the side corridor, right on time.  Their new 
boots shone dully under the harsh, public, detention lights.  A brigade leader 
moved smartly, without hesitation, over to the booth.  The others fanned out, 
weapons held in readiness, moving like smooth ball bearings in a mechanical 
housing, noiseless and true.  

	A low exclamation followed as someone found the guard, still 
unconscious.  A few ran to help, someone got on the comm board in the booth 
and several headed back down the corridor, carefully checking force fields and 
doors.   All was strangely quiet.  No conversation passed back and forth, everyone 
remained professional, alert and at their  posts. A burst of static raked through the 
air, as every once in a while a filtered voice communicated volumes in  terse 
military language.  

	Despite everything, all the alertness, all the good training, all the force 
fields and low range sensor pickups, a group of three humans moved silent past 
them, back down the entry corridor, flowing along the gleaming floors, as if they 
were only spirits, disembodied and transparent.  One of the younger troopers, 
perhaps slightly force-sensitive, glancing a second time at what he thought was 
movement, found himself gazing intently only at faded, white, institutional walls. 

	It was as if the very air itself was held in crystal stillness.  And so, no one 
saw Mara Jade and Luke Skywalker, supporting the wounded, almost unconscious 
Kyp Durron, move away, lost in a clear haze of institutional lighting and recycled 
air.  

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


	*Jade's Fire* was docked at one of the close-in spaceports, it's place 
surrounded by ships owned and used by the diplomatic corps.  Kam stood by the 
main hatch, which was open.  A comforting light issued down the small ramp and 
out onto the hangar floor.   He held to complete stillness, as one who is in a 
trance, silent, forbidding like warning words embedded in old stone.  His robes 
shifted as ventilated air flowed around him.  Various techs and mechanics, work 
stained with grease and the flotsam of  spaceship maintenance, completely  
ignored the wraith-like Jedi. 

	"Hey -- 'Warts!  Ya got another length of number five?"  This was shouted 
by a tech, flat on his back underneath a small cruiser.  Half its guts were  pulled 
out and was spread along the gleaming floor like the entrails of some metallic 
animal. 

	"Yeah, hold on a minute!" came the drifting answer.  This was soon 
followed by a tall woman, making her way swiftly across the floor with a length of 
cabling slung over her shoulder.

	"Isn't it kinda cold in here?" he asked from his place on the floor as she 
stood over him, handing him out length of wire, hand over hand.

	"A little," she replied, gazing around with a small shiver.  "I keep thinking 
I see something out of the corner of my eye.  Is it always this creepy here this time 
of night?"

	"Not usually....." the man on his back glanced around the room.  It was 
huge and echoing and, seemingly, empty.

	"I've had this feeling for the past half hour or so....." she put in, handing 
out another length.  "What's wrong with the cabling here, anyway?"

	He made a disgusted face.  "Oh, some idiot tried making home repairs on 
the replicator system -- burned the whole thing out.   I wish the diplomats would 
stick to....well, whatever they do."  He shifted a little, gesturing.  "I just replaced 
the panel and circuit board.  Now I'm down to the cabling......"
   
	"Could we recycle it?" She asked, indicating the meters of wire cascaded 
along the floor.  

	"Naw, I wouldn't trust it.  Throw it in with the stuff to be melted down.  
Maybe New Equipment can make something out of it."

	She stooped and fingered a handful of old cable.  "Blast, it's almost like 
they got into a battle or something......."

	At that moment, a slight air movement caused her stop and glance around 
the room.  A shiver snaked its way up her back and, stepping backward, she 
turned in a circle, pivoting gracefully on one foot.  Nothing.  Just an unusual air 
current.   Out of the corner of her eye, though, she could have sworn she saw, 
momentarily illuminated by the flat, work lights, a robed figure being supported 
by two others, moving without footfall along the floor, communicating an air of 
haste despite a calm demeanor.   A double take did not confirm this, however.  

	She shook her head, as if to clear her vision.  

	"What?" the other said, pulling a delicate, electromagnetic wrench away 
from a blinking light on  an almost microscopic circuit board.

	"Nothing," she replied, her voice distracted.  "For a minute, I thought I 
saw....."

	He grinned, a working man's grin.  "Double overtime'll do that to ya," he 
said jovially.  "You've been working too hard.  Maybe we could go out later, take 
your mind off all this excitement."  His hands waved a trifle sarcastically at the 
room around him.  

	She yawned and relaxed, suddenly feeling sleepy.  "Yeah, I'd like that," she 
replied, grinning back.  She dropped what was left of the cabling on the floor, 
moving to retrieve a trash receptacle.

	On the other side of the hangar, Mara and Luke moved like silent ghosts 
over the stained floor, never halting, but not really running either.  Between them, 
Kyp fell in and out of consciousness, his feet dragging.  Fighting to retain enough 
serenity to make the trick work, they jogged along awkwardly, each pulled toward 
the other by Kyp's dead weight.  Kyp's robe kept getting under Mara's feet, 
tripping her and, with growing irritation, she wondered why he had worn such an 
awkward garment on such a sneaky operation.  She decided, through gritted teeth, 
that she'd have to speak to him about that.

	Mara signaled Kam, who moved from his odd, statute-like pose and 
signaled back, his face betraying alarm.  Mara's pace picked up.  Luke's pace 
followed and he too almost tripped on the cloak.   A female tech glanced up and 
turned in a careful circle.  A betraying air current seemed to flow in suspicious 
smoothness and a warning went off in Mara's  head.

	About two seconds later, the same klaxon sounded audibly, echoing 
through the hanger.  "That's it!" Mara said reflexively.

	"Don't lose it!" Luke put in, flanking her.  But it was too late.  Mara, 
burdened by Kyp's weight and worry, fought tooth and nail her inability to hang 
onto the stillness of the Force.  It did no good.  A flickering in the female tech's 
field of vision caused the woman to look up in alarm. 

	Mara gave the tech a scowl through Kyp's flaccid hand draped along 
Luke's shoulder.  "That's it, she's seen us!" she whispered.

	"Keep going!" Luke said, pushing her along.  "They're unarmed, 
besides....."

	This was interrupted by a shout from the girl, who pulled away from the 
large bin she was pushing and began running toward them.  "Hey.....this is a 
restricted area....!" she began.

	Luke sighed and a small hesitation flickered across his face.  "Go!" he said 
softly to Mara, stopping completely.  He dropped Kyp's arm and Mara found 
herself fighting to keep the young Jedi upright.  She thought about just dragging 
him, but that seemed, somehow, inappropriate.

	Mara halted and,  hastily rearranging Kyp's weight, she continued toward 
the ship.  "Hurry" she hissed back at Luke, her pace slowing as she tripped on the 
cloak again.     At the foot of the ramp, with the help of Kam,  she let Kyp down 
slowly to the ground.   Kam grabbed  the now completely unconscious Kyp 
solidly under the armpits and pulled him into the ship.  

	Turning, Mara saw, to her surprise, that Luke was engaged in a grinning, 
good-natured conversation with the tech, who seemed to reply  in an almost 
flirtatious way to his comments.   She started as she heard Kyp shout something 
unintelligible.  Kam poked his head out the door.  

	"Jade, you'd better get up here," he said quickly.  "I'm gonna have to give 
Kyp some attention."  His face lifted with concern as he gave the Master a glance.  
The female tech was gesturing in a relaxed way at what looked like another tech 
flat on the ground, underneath a luxury cruiser of some sort.  "I figure we don't 
have a lot of time," he continued, speaking quickly.   "I got the start sequences 
keyed in while I was waiting, but I couldn't get the hyperdrive coordinates to 
come up..."

	Mara turned her head, pulling her eyes away from Luke, who was now 
gesturing in a careless way, as if he had all the time in the world.  "Yeah, that's 
tricky......" she replied, momentarily distracted.  A scowl fell across her face.  
"Better let me do it, I know the ship better than you do, besides...."

	"Besides what?" Kam echoed, hurried, as he made his way back into the 
ship.

	"Besides, you'll screw the sequences up if you keep messing with 'em," she 
put in bluntly. 

	He only nodded.   "Thanks, Mara," he said, a trifle sarcastic.

	"No offense," she said quickly, forgetting about him.  "Go help Kyp.  
We're gonna have to leave soon, immediately  -- that is if I can ever get 
Skywalker's attention......"

	At that, as if he had heard her, Luke turned away from the tech, who 
meandered back to her push cart.  He walked casually, putting his hands in his 
pockets.  But, about halfway to the ship, his face lost the casual grin.  The warning 
klaxon continued and Mara flew through the computerized sequences, hands 
nervous and jumpy. 

	Luke entered the cockpit looking not so much like a the Jedi Master, as a 
worried jailbird on the run.     "Ready?" he asked.

	"Almost, " Mara said, hitting a switch.  The preflight sequences were 
keyed in and lights began blinking with comforting regularity, the machinery 
warming up.  "It's been on standby, just another ten seconds or so......"

	"What'd you do about the shield?" Luke turned to Kam who had come to 
stand at the back of the co-pilot's seat.

	"I've made flight control think they're operating normally, but there's a 
malfunction in one of the sectors....."

	"Let me guess, right above this particular portal, right?"

	Kam smiled.  "Should be easy enough to get through.  I'm worried about 
the outer defenses though......."

	Luke sat down.  "Yeah, me too," he said, his voice lowering a little. 

	The klaxon became louder and movement appeared at the far end of the 
hanger.  Kam  gazed at it, heart sinking.  "I thought we'd have more time," he 
muttered.   "Troops at two o'clock!" he said calmly.

	Mara's heart was thumping, but her fingers moved swiftly from habit and 
skill.  She pressed on a console and glanced up.   "Strap in, guys, we're getting out 
of here!"  Kam disappeared silently into the back, all the better to attend to Kyp.  
Luke settled himself into the co-pilot's chair.  

	He glanced at her as he pulled at the straps, feeling the old, familiar 
excitement as his hands moved with surety and grace over the console.  "I haven't 
had a chance to thank you yet," he said quietly, glancing at her profile.

	"It's not over," she replied, a little irritated.  "We've still got those outer 
defenses...."

	"All the same, it's a good plan, although I think Medium Security will 
never be quite the same."

	She grinned at this, a wicked expression.  "Not for Jedi, anyway," she said.  
She keyed the ingnition sequence into a console and the ship began to shake.  The 
engines, powerful and noisy, drowned out the klaxon.   The troops, now halfway 
across the cavernous floor, began to run, blasters drawn.   

	"Cannon?" he asked, eyeing the oncoming squad of troops and pulling at a 
switch.

	"Not here." 

	"Good girl," he replied, straightening.

	"Don't thank me yet."   

	With a sudden, almost instantaneous motion, the ship pulled straight up 
off the hanger floor.  A portal opened above it, right on time and the repulsors 
flared, blinding the troops.  A rush of noise and energy pummeled through the 
hanger, throwing a hunk of stray cable out through the hole and into Coruscant's 
atmosphere.   *Jade's Fire* pushed through, following, like a pterafalcon after a 
smonolescent cow swallow.   The small ship's inertial dampers were momentarily 
overloaded.  Luke felt his stomach fall to the floor and a hard pull held him firmly 
in the seat.  

	Then it lurched forward, seeming to ratchet itself out of the clutching 
gravitational pull of Coruscant.  Then she was free, rocketing out through the 
lazy, evening sky, up through the dawn of upper atmosphere and into the black, 
jeweled reaches of space.

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

	*Jade's Fire,* accelerating hard, lurched one last time as most of the 
planetary, gravitational pull fell away.  Not waiting for the motion to stop, Mara 
unstrapped her harness and stood, all the better to study a console blinking 
overhead.  She handed it, glanced at Luke and then out the front viewport.  
"We're gonna have company, soon," she said.

	Luke moved to the opposite panel, still playing co-pilot and, expertly, 
worked a sensor scan.  "We've got, three, four minutes before they arrive, maybe 
sooner.  Looks like they didn't expect us to get this far...."

	She smiled.  "Just goes to show that Palpatine was right about Jedi."

	He frowned.  "Don't push it, Jade.  Any way we can monitor 
communications?" 

	"You mean the regular way?"

	"Everybody's a comedian...." he muttered.  

	"At least you got the joke," she put in, but her voice was flat.  

	"Are you saying I don't have a sense of humor?"

	"Company coming!"  She said, her voice rising in a sharp angle.  Straight 
off, flanked neatly at 2 and 10 o'clock were two sentry ships,  the first about 15 
degrees to port below them, and the second in a reciprocal , starboard position 
about 15 degrees above. It was a classic confrontation formation. Each was a 
hulking thing, built for strength rather than speed, bristling with armaments, 
spacedocks and communications equipment.  They resembled metallic, cocooned 
insects with what appeared to be stray twigs and dirt inadvertently dug into 
feathery coverings.  A flash of light appeared and disappeared  starboard.  

	"Warning beacon!" Luke said tightly.
	
	"Unidentified ship, you have no flight clearance!"  A computer generated 
voice reverberated through the small cockpit, resisting all attempts to shut it off.  
"Please return to spacedock!  This is your first warning!"

	"Should we try and communicate with them?" she asked, frowning at the 
noise and switching from one console to another.  She sat, swiveling the chair to 
watch the starfield up ahead.  

	"How long before hyperdrive?" he asked, not glancing at her.

	"About three minutes.  We've still gotta pull up confirmed numbers..."

	"Yeah....yeah... I know," he replied, a little exasperated.  His adrenaline 
level was beginning to drop and suddenly, he was weary.  He pulled on the Force 
for the fading energy, but it wasn't easy.

	"We gotta get past these ships," she muttered, pointing out the obvious.  

	He smiled, but it was a warrior's steely expression.  "Let me take control,"
he said calmly, but his voice held something new, an impatience she hadn't heard 
before.

	Her green eyes snapped.  He gave her an impatient look. Suddenly, 
looking at her for the first time since they'd left his cell, he realized that her suit 
was still half unbuttoned.  Embarrassed, his impatience faded a little as he pulled 
his eyes away.  But not before she was able to follow his gaze.

	"What are you gonna do?" she asked after a infinitesimal pause of 
embarrassment, pushing swift, remembering hands through the complicated 
buttons.

	"Out fly 'em.  I can still do that, you know."

	"You mean you *think* you can still do it.   As I recall, it's been a while," 
she replied swiftly, buttoned up, protected, leaning back in her seat.  

	His face held a puzzled look.  "Why?  Don't you trust me?"

	She gave him a skeptical look.  "Not with all that stuff all over your face, I 
don't.  You look like a low-life to me."

	He grinned.  "That was your idea.  And a damn good one too.  Now let 
me return the favor."

	Her face remained hard, but something in the way she shifted in the chair 
signaled acquiescence.  She made a small gesture with her hands.  "Okay, flyboy," 
she said quietly.  "But if you damage my ship...."

	His face held a momentary, mock innocence.  "Who? Me?" he said, before 
turning back to the main console.

	She sighed but let it pass.  Luke had evidently picked up a few bad habits 
from his brother-in-law.  Moving fast, pressing a preparatory button or two, she 
tested the navicomp NAacc function and glanced up at him.  "Ready," she said, all 
business.

	"*Jade's Fire*!" an insistent voice cut through the cockpit like a knife, 
slicing the mood.  "You have no departure clearance.  Request you return to 
Spaceport 10!"

	Mara glanced at Luke who signaled the comm.  "Well, now they know 
who we are....." she muttered.  Her voice hiked into a normal, audio range. "Sentry 
ship, I was informed I had clearance," she said, putting a touch of innocence, 
bordering on uncharacteristic fright, in her voice.  

	Luke grimaced and rubbed his hand along his face. 

	"Clearance code?" the voice demanded, not convinced.

	"Uh," she said, involuntarily, glancing around the cockpit.  Then she 
punched up a series of numbers on the command console.  "Transmitting now," 
she said helpfully.

	Luke gave her a look but she only shrugged and pressed the mute button.  
"What are you doing?" he asked.

	"Buying us time," she whispered even though there was no need.  "It'll 
take 'em at least 10 seconds to figure out that's the wrong code."

	"That long?" he replied, fingering the controls. 

	"Every little bit helps," she put in.  "You figured a way out yet?"

	He gave the viewport a calculating glance.  "Yep, a couple more seconds 
of drift and the ship to starboard will be out of position.  That's our chance."

	She frowned, a sudden alarm in her face.  "Are you sure?  That's cutting it 
awfully close."

	"Do we have a choice?" he asked, straightening.

	"*Jade's Fire*!" the voice commanded again.  This time it was human, and 
all the more threatening for that.  It reverberated through the little cockpit, the 
flat vowels hurting their ears.  "That code is invalid.  Reset transponder and 
retransmit."

	She turned back to the comm.  "Uh, roger, sentry ship" she replied, her 
voice suddenly hesitant and very feminine.  "I think I was pressing the wrong 
button, here...." a second of silence as she seemed to hesitate, "is it the small 
console to the right of the hyperdrive controls?"  She waited another half-second 
and Luke grinned at the palatable impatience he felt from the sentry vessel.  
"Oh....here, I found it.  Sorry for the mix-up.  Transmitting now..."

	The reply was almost instantaneous. "Trader Jade, you have no clearance, 
this is restricted space."  All attempts at civility had been abandoned. "Come 
about to 158 Mark 2."

	A warning flash of dangerous light flashed across her bow.  Startled in 
spite of herself, she had no time to reply as her ship lurched forward and then 
propelled itself straight up so that it was above the reference plane of the 
starboard vessel.  Before it had a chance to change position, Luke, who evidently 
understood something about the problems sentry ships have when maneuvering,  
shot out directly over the top of it.   Laser fire flashed ominously close.  

	Quickly, in fast motion, another pair of  sentries pulled up above and 
opposite the first two, weapons firing.  One scout ship peeled away from the other 
describing  a shoe for a quadruped against the stars.  The other continued on its 
course, straight for *Jade's Fire.*  Mara glanced at Luke.

	He was already in motion.  He pulled the same maneuver, but this time he 
dropped straight down.   The inertial dampers, unaccustomed to such swift 
changes in position, suddenly quit, causing everyone to feel as if they had left their 
stomachs on the ceiling.  A data pad began to float up from a back console.  Mara 
swallowed and she noticed that Luke was looking a little pale.

	"You alright?" she shouted as the laser fire came nearer.  They had a small 
fighter on their tail now, flying securely there as if it were tethered.  A continuous 
blast of fire now filled the rear viewport.  More were racing to join it, flying flack 
through the friendly fire all around them.

	He only nodded.   He turned to the nav console and keyed up a weapons 
schematic.  A jeweled sequence flashed across the screen and the ship darted away, 
directly in between the first two sentries.  Luke had been right, the starboard ship 
had been allowed to drift a little too much.  A gap in the laser ranges allowed the 
*Jade's Fire* to move swiftly through.  In a smooth maneuver, Luke flipped the 
ship onto its side, edging through the space, the target suddenly a knife's edge 
against the limitless void. The fighters tailing them peeled away to avoid being 
crippled by the cross fire, now aimed directly at them. 

	A bright suddenness brought Mara up short. She punched up the rear 
viewport and saw the flashing remnants of what had been a fighter.  She glanced 
up to see Luke's face contort with something like regret and then they  were  free 
of  them, the ponderous sentries too slow to make up such a flying head start.   

	But, just then, as she moved to take a breath, more slashing fire came from 
behind.   Mara glanced at a sensor readout and shook her head.  

	"More company, Skywalker!" she yelled, "ten o'clock high!"

	"It's disabling only!  he said quickly, not waiting for commentary.  He took 
another crazy turn, more to improve their chances of avoiding fire than for 
directional purposes.  He continued his evasive maneuvers  concentrating, using 
the Force to give him a split second warning as fire began to rain through black 
sky.  She noticed that he meticulously avoided the fire now emanating from the 
big, insectoid ships, like a graceful wave snaking away through clumsy, clutching 
fingers.   

	A streak of laser fire glanced off to port, startling her.  "Good, Skywalker!" 
she growled.  "Just remember, if you damage my ship....."

	"You'll get  a new one!" he replied, his tone hiking in excitement.   "We're 
almost there......"

	He put his hand on the hyperdrive levers, but at just that moment, as his 
fingers touched the cold metal, he must have lost concentration.  The ship lurched 
and rattled, throwing them forward.  "Evasive!" she yelled. 

	"Blast it,  Mara! Whaddya think I've been......!"  he yelled.  The smell of 
something burning came up through the floor.  Mara hit the fire retardant button.

	Luke, ignoring a sudden, killing ozone odor,  pulled the ship into another 
zig, zagging half turn, simultaneously pulling the levers down.  Offensive fire 
laced straight out from the fighter that had picked them up, sitting too tight on 
their tail.  It sprang away, unable to follow  the sharp turn, white, hot lasers 
spilling uselessly into the void.  

	A slight falling sensation welled up through Mara's stomach as she 
identified the familiar feeling of jumping into hyperspace.  A split second later, 
the fighter came around again in hot pursuit, firing, more by instinct than by 
sight, a precise beam where *Jade's Fire* had been only a fraction of a second 
before.  

	In the control room of the sentry ship a filtered voice cursed in very 
specific language. "Sonofanerfherder!  Green leader, did you get any secondary 
explosions?"   

	"Affirmative, nicked their aft quarter, something flashed -- maybe the 
motivator...." the exhilarated fighter pilot replied, breathing hard with excitement.   
"They'll be dead in a couple of days, if they don't get repairs somewhere......"

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

	"Fire's out," Mara said, climbing back into the cockpit.  Kam's looking at 
the engine now, looks like the aft motivator, maybe the....

	"Don't say hyperdrive," Luke put in ominously.

	"Don't think so," she replied perfectly serious.  "Hyperdrive's working 
fine, at least for now.  We need to get to spacedock somewhere though."

	"Where?" he asked, hunching over the navigational data base.  A green 
light shone in his face, washing out the blue eyes.  

	"Hummm, well we'll have to avoid anything affiliated with the NR," she 
said, putting her face close to his.  Maybe some place that isn't real political......"

	"That eliminates almost all spacedocks in this quadrant," he said, sounding 
tired.  He'd been in a healing trance just five minutes before, helping Kyp.  A dry 
feeling rimmed his eyes and he felt as if he could sleep for standard day.

	 "You've been legit too long," she said, allowing her grin to return.  
"Look, you're forgetting about the resorts. A lot's changed since the war ended."  
She gave him a daggered, if somewhat goodnatured look and continued.  "True, 
they usually don't service military craft, but then this isn't exactly a military ship.  
Somebody's ship's always breaking down somewhere, particularly on vacation....."

	He grinned at her, lifting his face away from the green light.  "Must be all 
those hot rod maneuvers ......."

	She laughed, the first time he'd heard her do so.  "Showing off for the new 
girlfriend, I'm sure..... anyway, they usually have excellent facilities. They certainly 
charge enough for their services.  Here," she said, indicating with a greased finger.  
"Kraseevits Resort and Casino.  Situated right next to the lovely fields of 
Khonaria...... "  She shrugged.  "It's a little out of the way, but it'll do."  She 
nudged him, a sharp elbow in the ribs.  "Just what we're looking for.  It's one of 
the premier honeymoon establishments in this part of the galaxy.

	He straightened and gave her a pained look.  "Don't tell me....."

	"Well, it helps if they think you're married.  But, they take singles too," she 
said, her voice rather too bright.  "Still, it'd be good camouflage....."

	"He nodded rather strongly.  "Maybe Kam...."

	"Well, you decide among yourselves.  Maybe Kyp'd be better, then we 
could get him some medical attention.  Still," she gave him an interpretive look 
out of the corner of one green eye, "they don't like let you into the facilities, 
spacedock or otherwise, unless you look like you're there to have a good time...."

	He gave her a very irritated look but because of certain sudden difficulties 
holding  a straight face, she wasn't able to meet it.  "You did this on purpose, 
didn't you?"

	She glared at him, mockingly, but nevertheless a little stung.  Her voice 
hardened.  "Listen, Skywalker, I have better things to do than to maneuver Jedi 
into ludicrous situations.  We're only gonna last a couple days, tops, on that 
engine.  After that," she lifted a greased-stained fist palm upwards. The fingers 
flew apart as she made a graphic motion, "the motivator's gonna blow out, 
causing a chain reaction and we all know what happens when the hyperdrive 
blows.    Not to mention Kyp....."

	A sudden image entered his mind, himself struggling to come to 
consciousness, her voice over the comm, chalky starlight reflecting preflight 
sequences that ran only flashing red error messages....  He put his hands up in 
surrender.  "Okay, okay, I get the message."  

	"Yeah, well, you need to clean up," she said, giving his face a hard look 
and changing the subject.  "A shower might not be such a bad idea.  And some 
rest too."

	"What about you?" he asked, his voice becoming serene again.

	She grimaced more at the tone in his voice than the question.  "I'll be 
alright for a couple of hours or so.  Besides," she gestured to the cockpit, "I've got 
some diagnostics to run, so if you don't mind......  Maybe you should check out 
Kyp's condition."  

	And without further words or ceremony she sat, swiveling the pilot's chair 
into a far console.  Lights began blinking in code as her fingers ran swiftly over 
them, the computer pinging like lost ducklings searching for their mother, in low 
distress.   Wordless, he turned, headed out the small hatch.  But some small 
feeling stopped him, something quicksilver and unknown caused him to look 
back.  Momentarily, he caught sight of her profile again, now serious with 
concentration.

	If she knew of  his regard, she made no acknowledgment.  An indecisive 
moment later, moving carefully, he turned, his eyes pulling at the low light, and 
was gone. 

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


Coruscant , COS's Conference Room

	Leia moved with quiet grace, her informal khakis rustling within the 
understated colors of the room, the small sound disappearing into the folds of a 
decorative curtain entwined around an ornamental corner window.  Her blouse 
was a dark jacquard and her hair was down. She wore plain, dark boots that made 
no sound as they passed over the expensive carpet. She took her customary seat.  
Admiral Ackbar and Major Knezar already held places, waiting.  She bowed her 
head for a preparatory moment, then lifted it again.  Her face was resolute, 
emotionless.

	"They got away," she said.  A small part of her awareness noted a muted 
bell in the corridor, probably an elevator.  Voices wavered through, snippets of 
conversation, terse, understated....

	"When?" This was Ackbar, his aging voice soft and throaty in the muffled 
silence.

	"About an hour ago.  Jade broke him out."

	If Ackbar could have paled, he would.  As it was, he merely held his 
position, his large eyes gazing back at her.  "Why?"

	She closed her eyes, pained.  "That's what I can't figure out.  She never 
seemed to have any problems with his incarceration, so why would she go to all 
this trouble?"

	Knezar sighed, tired of the question he was about to ask.  Ruefully, he 
reflected that Jedi Masters were reputed to be ascetics.  Evidently, his information 
had been somewhat erroneous.  "Is there anything between them?"

	Leia sensed his discomfort as he shifted in his seat, along with a 
controlled, but rising anger.  She shook her head.  "Not that I know of.  She 
wanted to kill him for a while there, but that was a long time ago."  She cast an 
oblique glance in Knezar's direction.  "But I'm sure you know all about that," she 
continued brisk turning back to Ackbar's more comforting visage.  "I know 
they've been friends for a while, but she has her own life.... They really don't see 
each other that much.  Besides, I was under the impression that she's got this on 
and off thing with Calrissian...."

	"Any accomplices?" Knezar's sense was still rising, almost burning 
through the studied control on his features.

	Leia straightened, an acknowledgment.  "It seems so.  No one's been able 
to locate Kam Salusar or Kyp Durron."

	"Tionne and Cilghal?" Ackbar's voice was gentle, his soft accent smooth 
and comforting.

	"Still in the Med Center, as surprised as we are, I'm afraid."

	"Are there any holos?" Ackbar was pacing his way through, gentle but 
ruthless.  A little coldly,  Leia remembered that, despite this taciturn behavior, 
Ackbar had been an underground agent and  revolutionary for most of his life.  
He was a pro.  She pulled at a breath and pushed a button embedded in the table.

	Immediately the room lights dimmed and a grainy, detention-center-issue 
holo appeared in the middle of the large table.  The first thing they saw was Mara 
Jade, unexpectedly attractive in what appeared to be a casual, evening outfit of 
some kind.  She was relaxed and smiling.  "That's from the entrance booth," Leia 
said, unnecessarily.

	The holo then flickered to reveal a truncated view of Luke's cell.  Willing 
herself to watch, Leia saw Mara sit down next to her brother on the bunk with 
startling familiarity.  The small woman then leaned, dropping  her head onto his 
shoulder, so that her face was hidden.  Leia noted a sudden expression of 
discomfort and surprise on her brother's sleepy face, to be gradually replaced with 
a certain, unmistakable sharpness Leia had always associated with action. She 
shifted in her chair, uncomfortable. 

	"It appears they know each other very well," Knezar put in sourly.

	Leia did not entirely agree, but grimaced all the same.  "So it would seem," 
she replied formally.

	Pressing another button, she fast forwarded the holo to the point where 
Luke and Mara were prone on the inadequate bunk.  She watched, her expression 
schooled and controlled, as Luke loosened the high collar of Mara's suit.  
Gradually the reddish hair became disheveled as he pushed his hands through it.  
Even in the grainy holo, Leia could make out the smears of makeup dirtying one 
side of his face.  A sinking feeling seized her, but she made no sign, sitting 
motionless in the dark, under an iron veil of icy control. Silent, she allowed the 
thing to run to its end, every horrible moment of it.

	"That's all you have?" Knezar  put in after the lights came up again, a little 
defensive this time.  "I submit, that some changes will have to be made...."

	Leia sighed, looking for serenity.  "I agree about the changes," she said, 
quietly.  "As to further recordings of this..... incident, Luke blew out the cam and 
the sensor fields when he cleared the ysalamir screen."  She gestured to empty air 
at the middle of the table.  "That's all we have."

	"They were hit before they jumped?" Knezar's voice was low and 
controlled.

	She nodded, seeking, momentarily, the technical to blot out the emotional. 
"The pilot estimates he hit either the aft engines or one of the rear motivators.  If 
it's the motivator, the hyperdrive will fail within two standard days." 

	Ackbar chimed in.  "Then they'll need a spacedock...."

	"NRI," Leia said nodding at the Major, "has already put out an alert.  I 
think, though, that they'll have enough sense to stay away from military facilities."

	"Any ideas regarding destination?"

	"Probably Yavin," Ackbar said, with certainty.

	Knezar gave the Princess a questioning glance. 

	Leia shook her head. "With all due respect, I don't agree, Admiral," she 
began reasonably.  "After all they know that's the first place we'll look.  I think 
they've decided on another destination."

	Knezar's brow puckered.  "Where?"

	Leia sighed.  "Your guess is as good as mine, Major," she relied slowly.  
"Although Mara is our main contact for the Core Systems.... she's the one who 
delivered their last message.  Of course, she's a smuggler, so she could have 
contacts anywhere."

	She glanced up to see that Knezar's face had turned almost murderous.  A 
thundered tone played about the edges of his voice as he spoke.  But somewhere, 
somehow, he found an edgy control.  "Why wasn't I informed of this?"

	Leia shook her head and waved a distracted hand at the angry functionary.   
"It's too late for that now, Major," she replied bluntly, but her face had taken on a 
thoughtful expression.  "I wonder....." she began quietly as if thinking out loud.

	Ackbar remained still.  He knew his old comrade well enough to know 
when she needed to think without interruption and when she needed to be 
prompted.

	Major Knezar, however, did not know enough to pay attention to 
Ackbar's cautioning glance.  "Wonder what....?"

	Leia gave him a dangerous look, surprisingly intimidating from so small a 
woman but continued in an even tone of voice.  "I wonder," she repeated in a 
stronger voice, "if she's deduced, along with some factions in the Senate," another 
dark flash from the eyes here, "that this Core Systems proposal and Luke's malady 
are connected in some way.  There are some," she stood, and took a small turn 
behind the chair, "who feel that this sort of tactic is exactly something the 
Emperor or.... Vader would have planned."   Something shrouded the room here, 
but she pushed on.  "If that's so, then I think I know where she's going."

	The Chief of State's reasoning had completely lost the Major.  "Where?" 
he asked, mystified.

	Leia turned her gaze directly to the both of them, her dark eyes carrying 
certainty, piercing sleepy confusion as a spotlight cuts through fog.  "The 
Rasclann System, on the Rim," she said simply.

	Knezar gazed at her for a stretched moment, mouthing the name, the 
slight moving of his lips eerie within the silent room.  Then he rose.   This time he 
did not need Ackbar's implacable cue.  "I'll prepare a ship."

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

	Irek awoke with a start.  A red light drifted through tight shades, filtered 
but ominous.  His quick, indrawn breath sounded loud in the small, rustic room, 
as if pulled through a respirator.  Beside him, sleeping soundly, Jelila Daala shifted 
slightly, her hair spread like a knotted mane behind her.  He studied her sleeping 
face for  a moment.  He could see, even in the early morning gloaming, the crows 
feet and mouth lines usually hidden by her daytime visage.  It was an aging face, a 
lived in face, hard and unforgiving. 

	He shifted turning his gaze away, but a movement out of the corner of his 
eye pulled him back.  His field of vision was held by a flickering,  fleeting vision.  
His heart began to pound as he saw her face go to delicate white and hair darken 
to black.  It rained over her shoulders, a soot waterfall over white nightclothes.  
The lines disappeared, bitter skin replaced by fair, smooth silk that had never 
known the hardness of the training field, nor the years of institutional air and light 
in the Maw.  Startled, he saw that her eyes were open, and even as he drew breath 
to speak, he noticed they were the color of the ocean in bright summer and that 
the eyelashes were perfect and straight.

	He reached out a trembling hand, hoping it was real, that she was real.   In 
anticipation of forbidden pleasure, he closed his eyes.  A falling feeling seized him 
even as his reach failed.  Shifting weight in sudden recalibration of position he 
opened his eyes. There was no one but Jelila, sleeping peacefully amidst the 
rumpled bedclothes.  Momentarily weakened by the vision, by its cruel illustration 
of things he could never have, his breathing came harsh as he bowed his head.   
After a silence woven with breezes, he flicked a cautious glance at the sleeping 
figure. Then he  pushed the bedclothes away, making to rise.  

	The floor still held the chill of pre-dawn as he made his way over to a 
chair carelessly draped with clothing.  Noiselessly, he dressed.  Spirit like, he 
moved over to the doorway, a darkened shadow illuminated only by a red glow, 
silhouetting his wavering form. At the last moment, he handed for his lightsaber 
and it flew, faster than reality, into an  outstretched hand.  As if on velvet hinges, 
the door opened of its own accord.  

	He made his way through the darkened house, noting his mother's 
sleeping sense.  Furniture loomed here and there in the chilled light.  The birds, 
sensing first light, were in riot outside. But the verandah, usually so noisy, was 
strangely quiet.    Light, dark and glowing, flowed through his vision, like river 
water scarred with the blood of battle.  A strange murmuring filled his hearing, 
water rushing over rocks in chilled winter.  His heart beat faster.  The sound, 
wordless but filled with hidden, twisting visions, baited him, dared him, 
compelled him out, into the red morning.

	He opened the verandah door, its curtains swinging wide as he stepped 
through, exuding confidence into the shadowed woods.  He hesitated, stymied by 
the emptiness he saw, but his Force sense did not believe.    He turned slowly, 
pulling at the lightsaber, all in readiness.  A large bird of prey called from the 
brightening sky and then fell into a hunting dive, streaking after a flying jay grown 
careless with hunger.  With a feral cry, the hunter fell upon its hapless prey, killing 
instantly, the cold talons puncturing feather, skin and brittle bone. Irek saw it pull 
away, swooping out, over the trees, off to some isolated nest, dead prey clutched 
in ferocious talons.  He watched it for a moment, distracted, fascinated by  the 
rushing display of cold brutality. 
	
	The sound of an activated lightsaber made him turn, his senses astonished 
and startled.  His own sprang to life, its red blade sultry and crimson in the last of 
the dawn.  But, pivoting, he found himself staring at the tip of another burning 
blade, pointed directly at his throat.  He swallowed, involuntarily taking a step 
backwards.  The attacking blade followed, never losing a centimeter.  

	Quickly, compelled, he found himself gazing up, up along the blade, to the 
strong, long boned hands, thin but finely wrought, up along the muscled arms, up 
a long, swan-like neck and into a face.  It's squareish features and high cheekbones 
were breathtaking.  The mouth, now held in a victorious grin, was large, lips 
inviting.  And finally the eyes, gray, the color of smoke over a primitive, 
wintertime village, held derision and pitilessness.    The hair was pulled back, its 
dark color shadowed in the early light.  

	"You are no Jedi!" the vicious voice proclaimed, whispered and evil.  "I 
could kill you with one thrust..." The topaz , energy blade pulsated ever nearer his 
throat, causing him to take another step backwards.

	"Who, who are you?" he finally bleated after a convulsive, swallowing 
silence, his blade locked down and away.

	"That doesn't matter, apprentice!" the woman whispered back, following 
his backward steps, pace for pace.  "I'd kill you now......"

	At just that moment a restless, agitated movement appeared at the open 
door and Roganda stepped out from it, her crafty eyes wide with fear.   
Immediately she began to run.  Her white gown was ghostlike and clinging in the 
growing light.  A shawl of wafting silk was clutched in tight fingers, boring 
through the delicate material, held white knuckled at her throat.  

	The strange woman stilled, outlined in shadow, her blade held only 
centimeters from Irek's precious throat.  He was motionless, transfixed, as if 
caught in a net or as prey trapped in a spider's web.  The lightsaber, pulsating, 
pushed ever nearer.  Roganda's heart pounded, an earthquake under her small rib 
cage, as she ran dreamlike through an invading light.  The harsh sound of her own 
breath rattled through her ears, drowning out birds and a joyful morning breeze.

	"Irek! ........ Irek!" she yelled, her voice rough and carrying , in  startling 
contrast to it's usual drifting quality.   "Irek..... your blade!" she shouted again, 
pulling her unwilling feet along the wooden deck.  "Use the blade.....!"

	Suddenly, a shroud seemed to envelope her, blotting out all light and 
awareness.  Dawn disappeared, the verandah vanished from beneath her feet, the 
forest faded into moving shadows.  She saw was the cold blue blade cleaving 
swiftly through her son's exposed neck.  Bloodless he fell, the head neatly cut away 
and rolling. 

	She screamed, wholly lost in the shadow as the blade turned toward her.  
The woman laughed and her hair loosed from its bonds, abundant, the color of 
rich, dark rope.  "Irek.......!" Roganda screamed one last time and then the ground 
flowed up to meet her, pummeling into her pampered body, a killing jolt that 
almost knocked her out.

	Spitting dirt, Roganda looked up, her face scraped and bruised, her fingers 
clutching at the smooth wood, the skin under the fingernails bleeding freely.  
Tears ran  down her cheeks, she could taste the salt on her lips......

	"Deactivate your blade," the woman said softly to Irek, dangerous and 
mean.

	He saw, out of the corner of his eye, his mother take a violent fall, tripping 
and frantic. But he found he could not remove his locked gaze as a vision 
appeared, flashing through his mind;  one of dominance, and fast, swift hatred.  
He saw his mother dead and limp on the wooden floor, he saw the strange woman 
standing opposite him raise her saber in victory over the white clothed body.  A 
rising flooded anger filtered through his being and a roaring filled his ears, 
shutting out reality. 

	His next thought was of the woman supplicated his feet, pleading for 
mercy and then, as a musical notes follow one another to make a song, saw her 
standing, in the woods, as a summer creek singing between the trees, the grass soft 
and warm......  Hesitantly, his hands trembling,  his reason gone, he complied.  

	"Throw it on the grass."

	He threw it, heard it land, thudding onto the greensward.  A bird rose up 
in the air, a burning jewel, it's call violent and reaching.

	At that, as if it were some kind of signal, the topaz blade at his throat fell 
silent and before he could see it was  put away.  He caught a glimpse out of 
frenetic eyes as she allowed it to fall  back into place.  It was a beautiful blade, an 
antique, a small line of cavorting creatures on its handle.

	Painfully, without regard to modesty, Roganda lifted herself off the 
wooden floor, clutching at a hand.  She grimaced in pain and stumbled upright, 
her body now stiff.  The shawl was left on the deck, dirt soiling its delicate fringe.  
She tottered over to stand next to her son, a remarkable show of courage for such 
a selfish creature.  

	"No, I won't let you!" she said quickly, stepping toward the strange 
woman.  "You can't have him..... he's mine....."

	Laughter greeted this proclamation.  "He is, is he?" a sardonic voice 
demanded, cutting through the sweet dawn like daggers through skin.  "He looks 
grown enough to me," the Jedi woman said, giving Irek a flashing glance that 
made him shiver with delight.  "Perhaps he should decide."

	Roganda's expression dropped.  "What do you mean?" she asked, before 
she thought.
	
	Irek  glanced at his mother, her face now bleeding from ungraceful 
scratches along her cheekbone, her hair rumpled and disheveled, her clothing 
dirty.  And then he gazed at the Jedi in front of him, standing calmly in a 
powerful military stance, her gray eyes holding a snapping serenity along with  
lurking, black desire.  Irek stared, not really wanting to resist the transfixing feel of 
her, but, pulling himself together, swallowed and allowed his gaze to drop.
	
	"He was never in any danger," the woman said, lifting her chin in a gesture 
of superiority, her smoked gaze finally leaving Irek's face.  "Your son is in great 
need of further training, Roganda."

	Roganda continued to breathe heavily, but her dirty face suddenly held the 
imperious look of a powerful courtier who's been crossed.  Her cultured voice 
rose a fraction, making her seem momentarily small and shrill.  "He's quite 
accomplished.... he fashioned the lightsaber himself....."

	The placating voice, fighting to remain soft and fawnlike, was harshly 
interrupted.  "Despite what you have been raised to believe, a lightsaber does not 
always make a Jedi," the woman said coldly, shifting her weight.  She was rather 
tall, and now, in the growing light, her beauty was enthralling.  The perfect face 
moved in a stately fashion, the mouth shaping words, lips moving around the 
vowels with a sensuality that sent a shiver through Irek's soul.

	"Who are you?" Roganda demanded, whispering with hot anger, 
approaching in a fit of hatred that forced Irek to step backwards.  Even the Jedi 
had a perturbed moment, a slight hesitation flickering in the air between the two 
women, opposites; one, a tropical feathered jewel on a small branch, the other a 
powerful, winged falcon, sharp eyed and wild.

	But the answer was calm enough.  "I am the Jedi Master, sent here by 
Admiral Pallaeon to instruct your son, Roganda."  The voice was now ordinary, 
quite low with the dispassion of everyday conversation.
	
	Irek's head jerked around in astonishment, his eyes boring into the 
woman's perfect face, dawn finally throwing a crystal clear cheekbone into sharp, 
refracted  light.  "What did you say?" he said, roughly, his voice dark spite.

	Roganda recoiled at the sound of her own son's voice, involuntarily 
stumbling backwards.  Momentarily it was as if the years had dropped away and 
she was again a frightened teenager, being presented to the aged Emperor.  The 
scent of age and ozone assaulted her consciousness as a darkness overtook her, as 
an aged hand reached down to clasp her childish one.... She closed and opened her 
eyes, willing away fear.  "No! You can't be!" she exclaimed, throwing the words 
back at the temptress standing so casually in front of her.

	The Jedi woman smiled, a small, cheerful note replacing the hooded threat 
of only seconds before.  "Sent by the committee, in all their wisdom.   Do you 
have quarters for me?"

	Roganda blinked and suddenly realized that her shawl was gone.  She 
turned for it but it was too far out of reach.  Daala, now watching from the 
drifting door, knew the small, helpless motion was a silent plea for assistance.   A 
snaking tendril of pity moved her to pace across the wooden planks with cool 
deliberation.  Quiet, her nighttime hair loose and heavy down her back, she 
retrieved it and carefully, with something like graceful defeat, handed it to the 
little concubine.

	The Jedi turned back to Irek, who was rooted where he stood.  "You 
failed the test, apprentice," the woman said, her voice smooth as the silks Roganda 
enclosed herself in, dangerous as a c'yeenraptor hunting calm waters.  

	Irek's blue gaze dropped, his confidence falling as he stood now 
shamefacedly before his new teacher, suddenly, to his own creeping astonishment, 
and a secret thrill, begging forgiveness.  "I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, feeling 
a lust, a desire, a willingness......  

	The woman gave him a devastating gaze, momentarily drinking of him.  
Then, without warning, she freed him and his mind was reluctantly void of her 
resonance.  He raised his eyes, cowed but already scheming, and smiled at her, one 
of  his hard, steely smiles.

	"What should I call you?" he asked, quietly.

	A grin was his answer.  "Khaali," she replied simply, turning at once for 
the house.

	Daala simply stood, gazing, as they all passed by. Roganda was in front, 
tottering on her inadequate feet, bowing her head in agitation and clutching her 
injured hand.   Irek followed, his deactivated lightsaber now clutched in his hand, 
his head down but eyes glazed over with thought, and perhaps, anticipation.  
Khaali was last.  A penetrating, gray gaze raked the former Admiral up and down 
and, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.  They vanished through the door, 
the curtains swinging ghost-like in the breeze.

	 Daala watched, motionless, as the door closed.  She was forgotten.

**************************
**************************
	Admiral Pallaeon's face came through clearly on the screen, his usual gray 
reticence more pronounced than usual.  Daala smiled formally.  "To what do I 
owe this pleasure?" she asked, as if she really meant it.

	Pallaeon gave her one of his calculated smiles.  "You look well, Jelila.  I 
hope this has not been too difficult."

	She dropped her eyes but immediately brought them back to the screen.  
"It has..... but, it will soon be over...."

	A sighed escaped Pallaeon here, as if in exasperation, or perhaps, 
impatience.  "We have no choice now, Jelila," he said, his voice brisk.  "We've yet 
to receive confirmation, but intelligence reports that the Rebellion has accepted 
our proposal, only this week.  We will now be called upon to begin negotiations."

	"Any idea who we're going to send?"

	A slight frown creased the face.  "Not really.  Someone rather 
unimportant, unknown, would probably be the best choice.  I don't wish to 
antagonize them by sending someone from the military.  Perhaps, someone from 
the committee."

	She nodded, agreeing with him.  "But, that's not why you've called," she 
said, changing the subject.

	Pallaeon sighed and his face darkened.  "We've stumbled onto some very 
disturbing information on Byss, within the old, Imperial Library.  I've encoded it 
and sent it along to you.  I want you to investigate further and then let me know 
what you find out."

	She nodded, giving his words due weight.  "As you wish, Admiral."

	I will communicate with you in less than a day.  I expect at least a partial 
answer by that time."

	She did not smile.  "I understand," she said and signed off.
 
**************************
**************************
	Daala finished her work early that evening.  The Core Systems Otdjel kept 
her busy.  She functioned as the quiet go-between, in addition to fulfilling a 
secondary role as inside spy on Rasclann.  True, Irek was powerful as his mother 
claimed and Roganda's loyalty to the Imperial Cause unquestioned.  But, the 
concubine's methods were not always trusted, and some disturbing facts 
concerning Irek had come to light over the years since Belsavis.   Cornered several 
times by New Republic Intelligence, almost captured once (due primarily to Irek's 
yarrock habit) Otdjel intelligence wanted the Ismarens watched.  Everyone 
maintained that the young man was clean, for now.  Otdjel Intelligence needed a 
mole, however.  Daala had been the perfect choice.

	That was, until Daala herself had fallen for the would-be emperor.  A 
familiar note of humiliation played through her heart, mourning once again for 
something she had never known.  Irek and Khaali vanished for days at a time into 
the woods, training. But Daala was no fool.  She grimaced and let herself lean 
against the ornamental wood railing circling the verandah.  What had been a place 
of refuge, in these isolated and ancient forests, was fast becoming an intolerable 
prison. 

	She let her gaze drift.  Before Khaali's arrival, Irek had been an attentive 
lover, if a little careless, only occasionally violent.  Everything had happened the 
way Pallaeon planned.  She knew the old Admiral was very pleased that the 
promiscuous Irek was kept in the next best thing to celibacy by Daala's 
willingness.  

	She squinted, turning to gaze to the west.   Daala knew she was no catch.  
After all, she was Moff Tarkin's leftovers.  She had even heard herself described 
that way, by no less than Pallaeon himself.  For it was the careful hand of Pallaeon 
that had led her here, to this remote planet.  He was not giving her a second 
chance so much as he was opening the door for a graceful drift into obscurity.

	She sighed, not really willing to sort through it all, and absently moved to 
check on the familiar nest underneath the railings.  It was empty, but underneath, 
on the grass, she could see several dead birds, the hatchlings by the looks of  them.  
Something must have got one or both parents. A choking feeling seized her and 
she turned quickly away, sad. Once so bright with pulsing life, now the avian 
family was dead, destroyed before it had a chance to thrive.  

	Silent, even in petty grief, she shook her head and felt through her 
weariness.  Yet, perhaps there was hope.  Perhaps Roganda's son had not 
forgotten about her.  Perhaps her feelings were only an aging woman's reaction to 
too much worry and too little sleep. For, once again, the night before, she'd 
awoken in the middle of the night to darkness and an empty bed.  

	At first, in the midst of her dark heart, she had suspected yarrock.  She 
was dutiful above all else, following orders, thoroughly searching the house.  She 
remembered, without emotion, the very specific orders she had been given 
concerning Irek and his mother, if it came to light that he had resumed his habit.  
Pallaeon and the Imperial faction that backed him were fast running out of 
patience with the Ismarens.

	To her surprise and relief, she found no yarrock, anywhere. She never even 
found Irek.  It was as if he had vanished, bodiless within the shadows of  the 
shrouded forest.  For a time she took to sitting in the outdoor gloom, wrapped in 
comforting darkness, waiting.  And too many times dawn returned with no sign of 
him. 

	A slight breeze picked up, rustling the tops of the trees.  The birds were 
subdued this evening and the sun had already turned the corner toward sunset 
and twilight.  She stood, considering dinner.  But, as she turned, something caught 
her eye, a red flash at the edge of the forest.  

	Two lightsabers were dueling, blading back and forth, vicious in give and 
take.  She moved to the edge, to get a better look. Shadowed trees grew softer as 
the light changed.  A shaft of sunlight pooled suddenly across the grass and under 
the trees.  It illuminated, as if it under prison searchlights, the duelists.  Irek and 
Khaali stood across from each other, eyes flashing, bodies slick with sweat.  

	He was in his oldest clothes, rumpled and stained.  His movements were 
weary, as if it took all of his skill to match her feints.  Her brown tunic and 
leggings pulled and stretched over lean muscle as she pulled away, her lightsaber, 
catching a stray shaft of light.  It flashed and Daala, for a moment, could see the 
grasstains and dirt that covered her.  Her heavy hair, braided into a careless tail, 
was falling from it's bonds in tender wisps  and tendrils.  Reflexively, in an almost 
fussy, feminine motion, Khaali  pushed them back from her face, never leaving her 
guarded stance.

	A word was exchanged, a gesture signaled halt and the blades were held 
down, away.  They hummed, now quiet and with only implied danger, filling the 
held moment with seductive sound.  With growing fear, Daala watched as Irek 
approached.  Khaali merely waited, very still, breathing hard.  He pulled his left 
hand through her hair, yanking it away it completely out of its bonds.  It dribbled 
down her back, thick and loose.  He wrapped his hand in it, and pulled, a brutal 
gesture.  Not really resisting, she moved forward.   Roughly, his searching, 
bruising hands forced her face up to his and, opening his mouth, he kissed her. 

	Daala's heart ceased to beat.  For a time it seemed as if reality ceased. It 
was as if any motion; of the sun or the birds or the breezes the evening seemed to 
conjure up, had  been frozen.  Her heart sank all in one swift, sickening motion 
and a great hurt reared upwards through her soul, like fire eating bone dry brush.  
But, at the very moment when it would have burnt through her cunning 
barricades, it faded as in the face of flood.  And in its place, standing still and 
shock silent, was hatred and clinging to it -- entwined in it like a lover, was 
revenge.       

	A scraping sound, humming and violent drifted across the greensward as 
Irek and the Jedi kissed.  He lifted his activated lightsaber and slashed it 
downwards along hers in a shower of sparks.  Then, the Jedi and her apprentice 
then turned away from the house, plunging back into the woods.  Immediately, 
sunlight shunted away, evening settled and the breeze returned.  Playful, it lifted 
Daala's hair as she stumbled into the dark house.

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

		It was already late morning when  Daala exited her small office 
and entered the great room.  It was rustic, but well turned out with fine, 
ornamental rugs and even a stone fireplace at one end.  A large loveseat inhabited 
the other end, underneath an intricately paned window.  Quiet light played 
through it, gleaming off brass handles here and there, shimmering over the 
colorful, but understated rugs.  Roganda looked up.

	Daala took a chair opposite.

	"News from Otdjel?"  The small woman had a floating voice, shimmering 
over the silence like a breeze over water.

	Daala's face was as hard and intrusive as the harsh tone of her voice.  
"Yes, as a matter of fact," she said.

	"What news from the New Republic Senate?"

	Daala gazed out the window.  "They've passed the proposal.  Official 
confirmation came through this morning."

	Roganda nodded, but did not put down her data pad.  "I knew they 
would," she said, with a satisfied tone.

	Daala tried to keep irritation out of her voice.  Over the years she had 
found that people never say that unless they are uncertain.  "Yes, it looks good," 
she said.  "We're to send a representative to one of the Rim worlds, perhaps 
Tatooine...."

	Roganda's laugh was quicksilver and smooth.  "I don't envy anyone that 
assignment.  Tatooine's not my idea of a resort...."

	"Not unless you love sand, or...." here Daala paused, mostly for effect, 
"Jedi Knights."

	Roganda's face darkened but she held her silence.   For a while the only 
sound was the that of an old-fashioned chrono on the grand fireplace mantle. 
Daala's chair creaked as she shifted in it, crossing her legs.

	"I've also received other, more intriguing news," she said, watching 
Roganda's face with tight eyes.

	Roganda smiled, vague, reading again.  She did not bother to look up.  
"What was it?"  The voice was bored.

	Daala felt a sudden, almost physical, rebuff and  violent hatred reared up 
again.  The mother of the man she had fallen in love with clearly regarded her as 
no more than an inconvenient servant.  The man himself had taken up with 
another with no explanation or even a pretense of leave-taking.  Pallaeon was 
quite satisfied with her work, enough to guarantee her a pension if she allowed 
herself to slip into quiet obscurity.  Except for this small fragment of  
information.  Information that had been hidden for almost 20 years.

	"It concerns Irek," Daala said, letting his name smack flat into the 
beautiful wooden floor.

	A cultured fingernail pushed the 'pause' button and the data pad was laid 
carefully on the elegant couch.  "What was it?"  This time the question was 
interested.  

	Daala shifted again, and then held still.  "We've done some tests," she 
began quietly, not really knowing where to start, now that Roganda was actually 
here, actually paying attention, cornered.   

	The courtier's face brightened with false goodwill.  "And?" The beautiful 
voice was angled and a little sharp.

	"You really shouldn't speak that way, Roganda, it doesn't sit well at your 
age..." Daala began, her feelings flashing out, predatory and uncontrolled.

	Roganda recoiled a little, but her face held a practiced smoothness that 
belied her words.  "Is there a reason for insulting me?  Or are you just feeling 
abandoned today, Jelila?"

	Daala started at the sound of her first name.  "What do you mean by 
that?"

	Roganda smiled.  "I know about Pallaeon's little plan," she said wisely.  
"And I know how you feel Jelila.  You forget," she said, leaning confidently back 
into the padded seat, "I'm Force-strong."

	"Is that why you were with the Emperor?"

	It was a cutting question, but Roganda did not react.  She only seemed 
still, as if caught in a stop-motion holo, eternally held.  "As you can see," she 
gestured slightly with her head to the outside, "I've been rewarded.  I was the only 
one of his concubines to bear a child, a son...."

	Daala stood, violent red flashing before her eyes and roaring in her ears.  
With an effort, she leveled her voice.  "You were the only one of his concubines 
to survive into your fifth year with him, Roganda.  I'm beginning to wonder if 
these two facts are connected."

	The small woman gave her a mean look, one meant to intimidate.   But 
Daala was too angry for caution.  "Of course they are, my dear."  Roganda waved 
a dismissive hand.  "Palpatine was looking for a son, an heir.  It's a normal thing.  
But he couldn't marry..... it wouldn't have been ..... proper."

	"You mean he didn't want to share power with an  Empress," Daala put 
in, cutting off the argument.  

	Roganda smiled.  "Is that what you really think, Jelila?  Do you think that 
Palpatine was immune to the pleasures of women?  Even in his old age....."

	Daala made a disgusted face.  "Please don't enlighten me, Roganda," she 
said quickly, a flush in her cheeks.

	Roganda gave her a glittering look.  "Now what are these tests and why 
should I be interested in them?" she asked, after a moment during which Daala 
realized she had lost the initiative.

	Daala fought a sudden, distracting image of an angry Pallaeon from her 
mind and sat.   "You still maintain that Irek is the Emperor's son, am I correct?"

	A slight flush marred the beautiful skin.  "Why are you asking  an 
impertinent question like that?"

	Daala lifted her eyes away, but not before she noted a small, sneaking note 
of defensiveness in Roganda's voice.  Some of her years in the military returned as 
she let her voice swell to fill the entire room.  "There's been a discovery at the old 
Imperial Library on Byss," Daala said removing her eyes and letting them drift 
around the well-appointed room.  "It seems that the Emperor kept a cache of 
information, evidently for blackmail purposes...."

	"Why does this concern me or my son?" Roganda was leaning forward 
now, all polite pretenses vanished.

	Daala refused to be hurried.  "It seems to hold information generally 
concerning Darth Vader.  Evidently, Palpatine feared him enough to keep secret 
holos, records of clandestine meetings, lists of  informants, contacts with 
smugglers, and other such matters.  Even contacts within the Rebellion."

	"That makes sense," Roganda rejoined, a shade too quickly.  The small 
hands clutched each other, as if to avert a blow. "After all, it was well known that 
Vader was a Jedi and was, at one time, close to General  Kenobi.  Perhaps he still 
had an informant or two there...."

	Daala smiled, putting Roganda off guard.  "There's even a record of the 
deal he tried to make with Skywalker on Bespin."

	Roganda frowned.  "Yes, I've heard about that.  I've always been curious 
about it."  She smiled, her hands relaxing just a shade.  "I'd like to see that, if 
possible."

	Daala gave the small woman a quiet but intimidating look, not yet 
finished.  Roganda, with a courtier's acute sense of danger, drew back into herself, 
unconsciously straightening to her full, diminutive height, her face taking on a 
cold cast.  

	Looking it her, it seemed to Daala that, momentarily the woman in front 
of her was only a statue of herself, warm flesh frozen to alabaster.   With 
difficulty, she pulled her gaze away, focusing on a layer of perfectly lined fringe 
along the floor.  "There is also a report regarding a certain concubine plotting to 
make certain she was carrying a Force-strong child....."

	Roganda smiled, the expression just right.  "I didn't know Vader had any 
concubines!"  The small voice was excited, even titillated.   "This could be 
entertaining.  Did she come to term?"  The voice was pleasant and lilting, as if she 
were sitting in a comfortable corner at an intimate party.  

	Daala turned a direct gaze to Roganda's now coquettish but guarded, blue 
eyes.  "Not exactly.  This was one of the *Emperor's* concubines......"

	A raw silence accompanied this, shivering through the room.  A coldness 
seemed to envelope them, washing out the warm, elegant colors, turning the brass 
handles to frozen, gray durasteel.  The mantle chrono sounded loud and plodding, 
suddenly only worthless old wood and antiquated parts.  A cloud passed over the 
sun.

	Roganda froze.  A unblinking moment passed.  "What are you getting at, 
Daala?"

	Daala did not back down.  "According to the records, Roganda, Vader 
evidently was known to be......." Daala stopped, momentarily at a loss for words.  
She swallowed, and changed her tack.  A vision reared up in her mind, one of a 
monstrous, crippled Jedi held together only by machines and technology, and a 
woman, small, birdlike, her white skin soft and glowing in the bedchamber. 
Daala's voice became positively clinical.  "Included with these records were a 
series of detailed, genetic profiles."

	Roganda tried smiling.  "I don't understand why Palpatine would need 
such things, unless he was trying to ascertain ancestry, say of Skywalker...... or his 
sister," she said, with a practiced expression of pleasantness.

	Daala suddenly pushed herself to her feet, unable to remain still, unable to 
gaze into the beautiful, deceitful eyes.  "Yes, that's what we'd assumed," she said, 
quelling a sudden feeling of  choking disgust.  "That was until I sent Otdjel 
samples from Irek."

	Roganda paled, if that were possible for such a fair woman.  The hands 
were clenched together, knuckles whitened with strain.   The clock sounded again, 
and Roganda held so still, so motionless, that Daala jumped when she began to 
speak, so sure was she that the former concubine, though sitting straight up, had 
passed out.

	"What are you accusing me of?" Roganda asked, standing a shade to 
quickly, reaching for the data pad.

	Daala took a commanding turn around the room, sensing advantage.  
Falcon like, she closed in.  "We are accusing you of deceit, Roganda Ismaren.  
You've been lying to us."

	Roganda's face held a fleeting expression of confusion. A practiced 
sincerity followed it, a predator on the heels of an ailing ruminant.  "What do you 
mean?"

	Daala smiled, a vicious expression, looking once again like the warrior she 
was.  "The profile does not match Palpatine at all.  In fact," here she raised her 
voice, suddenly enjoying herself.  "It is *impossible* that  Irek is Palpatine's son."  
She let a pause move through, watching Roganda's suddenly aging face.  "But, it is 
almost certain that Irek is Vader's son...."

	Roganda's shoulders shivered, just noticeably. Anyone else would have 
taken it for an innocent movement of daylight through the window.  But Daala 
knew, she had come to know Roganda very well.  She knew what that tiny gesture 
meant.
	
	Daala approached, towering over the dainty woman, her hands clasped 
securely behind her back.  "Irek's father wasn't the Emperor," she said flatly.

	Roganda opened her mouth to protest, but Daala did not give her time to 
interrupt.  "Irek's father was Vader"  A shaking head accompanied this damning 
statement.  "Whose idea was it, Roganda?" Daala continued softly.  "Was it yours 
to ensure your place?  Was it Vader's to get back at the Emperor?  Or," she 
turned her back to the motionless woman, whose features were now blanched 
whiter than the dress she wore, "was it a love affair?"

	Roganda opened her mouth, finally jerked completely out of her role as a 
royal concubine.  "I...... was desperate," she began, stammering.  "He was going to 
replace me with a new one..... he had grown tired of me....."  She wrung her hands 
shifting on delicate and noiseless feet.  "I had to find some way...... to conceive.  
He'd never been successful with any of the  others and they all ended up dead 
once he was done with them." Her voice rose as she remembered those dangerous 
times.  "I was determined to have a child.  Palpatine couldn't, but Vader........ I 
knew Vader could."

	"Who knew?" Daala asked, ruthless. 

	"We killed the medical staff as soon as Irek was born," she said, 
confessing, even now in pearl-like tones, to murder.  Daala felt her lip curl in 
contempt and amazement at the cold-blooded self-centeredness of the little 
woman.  

	"Several of the palace servants met untimely deaths."  She gulped at the 
suddenly stifling room and gazed up at Daala's stern face.   "As soon as I was able, 
I left court for a time."  Agitated, she turned to give the window an agonized 
glance.  "I was never sure if  *he* suspected.  Soon after that the first Death Star 
was destroyed and Vader was almost killed.  I was certain we'd been found out, 
but......"

	"But, you were allowed to live," Daala finished for her, suddenly, despite 
all reason, pitying the hapless woman.

	Roganda sank back down into the couch.  "He never made any indication 
that Irek was *not* his son.   Although," here, incredibly, her voice turned crafty 
again, "he never confirmed it either...." 

	Daala sighed, a heavy, gloomy sound.  Pity, compassion, empathy, they 
were all lost on this brutal woman.  "That's all in the past, Roganda," she said, her 
voice taking on the flat, commanding tone of the military.  "I have to let Pallaeon 
know he was right, and you know what that means, don't you?"

	Roganda was crying now, the force of the confession almost knocking her 
unconscious.  But still, she wept  in the beautiful, studied way she had been 
taught.  Delicately, with the precise movements of a small bird, she found a 
hidden cloth and put her hand up to dab at her eyes.  To Daala's clumsy words, 
she held silent behind trembling lips.

	Daala, watching the fetching performance, felt nothing but revulsion.  Her 
stomach turned and she faced away from the poetic woman now sitting on the 
couch.  Quickly, with an almost marching cadence, unable to bear Roganda's 
presence any longer, she made her way out of the room.

 	A silence blanketed her soul as she returned to the neat office,  door 
closing behind her.  She stood for a moment, head bowed, heart filled with 
crawling, black disgust. Roganda Ismaren and Darth Vader.  It was almost 
impossible to believe.  She remembered how Tarkin had held Vader in cold 
contempt, as an obsolete monster, an attack dog, a vile assassin.  He had told her, 
in confidence, that he was sure Vader and Emperor would eventually destroy each 
other.  She sighed, her skin crawling.  That part had almost come true.  It was 
Vader's son who had destroyed them both.  

	And now there was another son, one she had fallen in love with, one with 
whom she had.........  She sat, too suddenly, in the desk chair.  A trembling, 
cadaverous disgust siezed her as she contemplated the depths of her own 
prostitution.  Anger raged, but underneath, lit by Irek, was a white hatred, calm 
and cold.  Her hands trembled and she clutched the arms of the uncomfortable 
chair, closing her eyes, willing away the fear, the disgust, the rage. A thread of the 
precious hatred settled into her being, its brightness glowing and unmistakable in 
her dark mind.  Clinging to it, desperate but sure, she fought against a boiling sea.  
And when she opened her eyes again, they were calm.

	And then, with quiet efficiency, as she had been taught almost a 
generation ago on the vanished military school on Carida, she turned to the comm 
console.   With a few, deft keystrokes, as simple as a child's mathematical lesson, 
she laid bare a dark secret.  Harsh daylight now penetrated gloaming darkness, 
confirming what some on the committee had suspected all along.

 	Irek Ismaren was not the heir of Emperor Palpatine, as Roganda had led 
them to believe.  He was, rather,  the true heir of  Lord Darth Vader, making him 
half brother to  Jedi Master Luke Skywalker and the former Alderaanian Princess 
and now the New Republic's Chief of State, Leia Organa Solo.

	A black silence engulfed her heart, but sitting straight-backed at her desk, 
Daala refused to weep.



Samizdat -- Chapter Five 
Hyperspace

	Kyp Durron sat up, almost bumping his head on the bunk above. 
Grinding pain in his arm slowed him, warned him to move carefully.  Gingerly he 
swung his legs over the side of the narrow bed, feet sliding along the floor.  The 
sliding feet, tentative in the throes of first consciousness, brought him to the door.

	Kam, sitting carelessly at the only table, turning a stripped damper shield 
component over and over his large hands, glanced up. A genuine smile fought its 
way to the light.  "Good, you're conscious.  We were starting to worry...."  

	"Where are we?" Kyp asked, looking confused.  His face was haggard, still 
a little gray from fighting the burn.  A makeshift sling was supposed to hold his 
wounded arm motionless, but every little balancing movement jiggled it, sending 
painful needles up through his shoulder.  He winced.

	"Hyperspace," Kam said, equably, not at all put off by the other's pain.  
"We got away."  

	"I don't remember ever reaching the ship....." Kyp said, his brow 
furrowing.

	"That's because you're such a genius when it comes to getting hit by 
blaster fire.  You took a glancing blow."

	Kyp  pulled himself away from the metal threshold and made his way, like 
an elderly man, to the table. There he sat down, awkward and rather too quickly, 
in a small chair.  "Feels like I took a direct hit," he muttered, grimacing.  Kam 
nodded as his voice grew stronger. "All I remember is the Master carrying me 
along a corridor, after that....."

	Kam's face was very quiet.  "You're fine, Kyp. The Master's here, along 
with Mara, of course."

	Kyp turned slowly, favoring his arm, lest he hit the edge of the table.  A 
palatable expression of relief settled on his face.  "Good, then we made it through 
the outer defenses...."

	Kam's face darkened at that.  "Well, not exactly.   We got nicked by laser 
fire just as we jumped.  It's okay right now, but eventually it's gonna eat up the 
hyperdrive....."

	Kyp gave his friend and fellow Jedi a hard look.  "You mean we're going 
to have to stop somewhere for repairs."

	Kam smiled, a mirthless expression.  "That's the size of it. Unless," he put 
in, the smile flashing a little, "you've got another hyperdrive assemblage sitting 
around here somewhere ...."

	Kyp made a disgusted face.  "That's not funny, Kam."

	Kam stood, his movements swift with repressed feeling, shadowed in the 
room's bright light.  His voice echoed off the durasteel walls, falling flat.  "You're 
right, Kyp, it's not funny."   Worry fell over the large Jedi's face as he moved away 
from the table.  A small blue light pulsated on the replicator, signaling a state of 
readiness.  The engines clicked, failing in slow motion.   Kam spoke again. "Come 
to think of it, things hasn't been too good  for quite a while now...."

	Kyp, preoccupied with pain, glanced up to see Kam had paced to the far 
side of the little common room, and was now facing him, complete seriousness on 
his broad features.  "What do you mean by that?"  he asked, as a wave of dizziness 
temporarily curtained his consciousness.  He swayed slightly.

	Kam did not hesitate.  "I've had time to think, Kyp."  A defensive note 
here.  "I've been thinking about Tionne."

	Kyp fought to keep the room still, his eyes narrowing.  This was 
unexpected. "What about her?"

	Kam held silent for a moment, a play of indecision on his face. Kyp let the 
silence go, knowing his friend would speak only when he was ready.  Kam made a 
decision, took a breath and plunged in.  "She's been using you ........ all of us.

	Kyp smiled, patronizing in disbelief.  "That's ridiculous, Kam.  How 
could she? She's not a Force adept, remember?  Besides, she's very loyal to the 
Master....

	Kam, becoming agitated, approached swiftly.  "Kyp, she intercepted a 
message from Callie almost six months ago, don't you remember?"

	Kyp's eyes flicked away as fear fell into his heart.  "No," he managed. A 
small hesitation, unusual for him, crept into his voice. "I didn't know, at the time, 
that Callie sent a message," he said, his words hanging uncertain and ragged in the 
middle of the room.  Fighting, somehow, to ground them, he took a breath.  
"Besides, if Tia had received some kind of message..."

	Kam interrupted.  "I didn't say 'received,' Kyp, I said 'intercepted.'  Why 
won't you admit you never knew about that message?"

	Kyp, having no choice but to retreat, decided on another tack.  "But you 
did," he said, raising his eyes.

	Kam returned to the table and sat again, slumping in the chair.  "I was 
there when it came in, at the comm on Yavin.  It wasn't even encoded."  He closed 
his eyes.  "Callie's on the Rim somewhere."

	Kyp looked thoughtful.  "Is that where we're going?  Maybe that's the 
problem.  Maybe Callie's in trouble...."

	"No, you don't understand," Kam said, exasperated with Kyp's willful 
obstinacy. "Tionne never delivered the message, at least," he swallowed, giving 
Kyp a hard look, "not until the night the Master tried to murder her."

	Kyp's face paled.  "He did not.............!  He couldn't...... she was 
dreaming......"  The stammered words were defensive, fighting the shade that 
seemed to fall over his eyes.   "It was a misunderstanding, something else, 
something in the Force.  She..... she just got in the way......"

	"Maybe, maybe not," a tired voice put in, startling them.  Both sets of eyes 
flashed as they looked up to see Luke, standing at the hatchway to the cockpit, 
dressed in a stained flight suit.   He gave his graduates a long, assessing look, an 
expression that was as much introspective as observing.  He closed and opened his 
eyes slowly, as if awakening from a drugged sleep.  When he spoke again, the 
sound of his own voice sounded foreign, as if filtered through a recording device 
and played back.  A small gesture of resignation fought its way through to his 
right hand. "I felt something for her, Kyp," he said.  "She felt something for me.  
And we both knew it wasn't right."

	Kyp Durron, caught completely off balance by this simple admission, 
attempted to stand. In the process, he knocked his injured arm against the table.  
The resulting wave of pain made him sit back down.  "What are you talking 
about?" he mouthed, his voice soft with gaping astonishment, and perhaps, a 
creeping anger.

	Luke smiled, his face, still worn and pale, holding regret, and maybe, 
sorrow.  He put his weight on both feet and approached.  With deliberation, as if 
each motion was a set of movements to be precisely followed, he sat. Hands 
folded against the cool, hard surface of the table, he dropped his gaze into 
workstained fingers.  "She's hard to ignore, Kyp.  You know that," he said, quietly, 
as if he had thought the words a thousand times over, so that they had attained 
reality despite remaining unsaid.   "She's beautiful, talented, smart, loyal and she 
was in love with me.  Or at least, she thought she was.  That's hard to resist."

	Kyp made no reply, only stared wide eyed, holding to a stalling 
speechlessness as the Master merely sat there, gazing into his fingers.  Luke finally 
glanced up and smiled wryly at Kyp's expression but then allowed his face to fade 
into a look of resignation.  

	"I tried to kill her, Kyp."  He put up a hand at the other's attempted 
protest, shaking his head.  "No, let me continue," he said, his voice taking on a 
commanding tone.  Immediately, the others held quiet, chastised children caught 
talking out of turn.  "She'd already come to me once, even told me what Callie's 
message was, although I didn't realize it at the time."  He gave his best student a 
meaningful look.  "I know you're  in love with her, I remember what you said."  
The hands clenched as the words turned brutal.  "But still, it wasn't just because 
of you that I kept her around....."

	Kyp's eyes began to flicker.  He blinked like someone who has been called 
to consciousness after a dreaming sleep. He stood.  The pain in his arm faded into 
nothingness as a new darkness rushed in, black water over surefooted, dry land.  A 
question formed in his mind.  Unthinking, off guard, he voiced  it.  "What are you 
saying?"

	"She offered herself to me," Luke replied steadily, looking away, unable to 
bear the betrayal on Kyp's face.  "I almost took her up on it." 

	Kam was rigid in his seat, held straight in amazement.  Kyp had the 
beginnings of a surprised jealousy on his face, mixed with a mighty effort to 
remember who was addressing him.  Plundering silence followed, raking through 
the air between them. 

	He stumbled backward, his boots sliding ungracefully as he jolted away 
from the table.  "But....but...." he began, stuttering in anger, finally abandoning all 
effort at control.  "She loved me, even you said....." Turning, he stumbled slightly, 
momentarily wanting only to be away from the hunched, isolated figure held in 
the crystal stillness of regret.  A swift, raging light passed through his body, 
almost physically throwing him back.  Kam grimaced as he too felt it.  Luke knew, 
but only pained eyes betrayed the knowledge.  

	Kyp, retracing Kam's footsteps, stopped at the replicator console on the 
far wall and stared uncomprehendingly at the blue readiness light, but only a small 
part of his mind registered it. The engines clicked again, a warning.  "I trusted 
you!" he whispered, the words hissed and venomous.  His voice strengthened as it 
fell into the Force, his anger suddenly alive, a hard reality held within the common 
room. The words were embittered.  "I trusted the Master to help me, to help 
Tionne see that I was the one for her. That together we could have force-strong 
children.....  She never thought so, but I knew, I knew we could......."  

	Kam dropped his head into his hands as Kyp spoke, knowing that the 
pitiful confession had escaped straight from the heart.  Ugly, vulnerable and pale, 
the words flew free of their locked prison, away from the secret place where 
unspoken desires and wishes are hidden.  Luke bowed his head, but otherwise did 
not move.

	A choking speechlessness overtook Kyp, causing him to breathe hard, 
dizzy again.  Too agitated to worry about passing out he stood straight and gave 
the master a cutting gaze.  "How do I know," he began, his voice now ferocious 
with undiluted anger,  "how do I know that you're not lying to me now?"  He 
hesitated, but his mood was a hurricane, gigantic and overwhelming.    "How do I 
know that you and she didn't......." His voice stopped, just on the verge of  more 
hurting words, as if pulled from his chest, a hunter garroting a rabbit.   Something 
stopped him and he struggled to speak.   Mouth open, breath drawn, his voice cut 
out as he choked and in a startled gesture, like someone who is dumb, he drew his 
uninjured hand up to his throat. 

	Kam, hearing Kyp's voice cut off, looked up to see Luke holding a hand 
toward Kyp in a defensive gesture, a stony expression on his face.  A wave of 
panic blinded him as he fought for words, for breath.  "Master!" he whispered, 
horrified. 

	Luke did not look at him nor make any change in his position. "Don't 
interfere, Kam...." he said, too evenly, a low, mean note lacing his voice like poison 
laces innocent water.

	Kam stood quickly, his heart racing, his chair clattering as it fell 
backwards onto the shiny deck.  "Master, please!" he pleaded, looking for 
something, anything to cut the dark Force that held Kyp motionless and dying.  
"Don't hurt him, he didn't know, none of us did....."  Kam's voice faded, his face 
strained with weariness and heartbreak.  He tried to move toward the deadly space 
between Luke and Kyp, but something held him rooted where he stood, awkward 
and unsure beside a worn, metal table.  

	A stretched moment passed, all three perfectly still.  Kyp, his hand on his 
throat, his face contorted with rage, betrayal and a pulsing will to live.  Luke, cold, 
emotionless, his hand outstretched, eyes now full blue and piercing.  And Kam, a 
silent, helpless witness, watching two friends destroy each other.

	"You have a Force War on my ship and I'll be extremely upset," a clear, 
cold voice intoned from the hatchway to the cockpit.  All three glanced over to 
see Mara standing, arms crossed, her head held high, green eyes snapping in anger.  
"I'm the captain, here, " she continued, not at all concerned that the three Jedi 
could conceivably overpower her.  "And one of the rules is no one dies without a 
fair trial."

	Suddenly, as if an invisible rope were unloosed, Kyp collapsed, took a 
horrible, rasped breath and began to cough.  Luke's hand fell to the table.  The 
cold expression was replaced by a fleeting bewilderment and then something like 
fear.  He slumped in the chair.  

	Kam suddenly freed from a dark dream, turned and smiled in relief.  
"Mara!" he said brightly.

	She gave him a mean look.  "Don't try to soft-talk me, Jedi Salusar," she 
said quickly, coming to stand over the table, her movements feline, graceful and 
dangerous.

	Kam, rebuked,  righted his chair and sat.  Kyp, on his knees, retched 
miserably and pulled himself to unsteady feet.  Slowly, with no offer of help, he 
made his way back to the chair, right next to the man who, only moments before, 
had tried to kill him. Luke, once again calm and benign, leaned forward and 
folded his hands.

	"Sorry, Mara." This, surprisingly, was Luke.

	"Sorry's not gonna feed the gondark," she said tightly, her temper just 
barely in check.  "We're limping through space with a pasted together hyperdrive, 
we've got a warrant on our heads, with very good holos, sent to every jurisdiction 
between here and Wild Space, and we're being attacked by something we can't 
figure out."  A chagrined silence followed this statement.  "I think we need to 
start working together and not get involved," here her voice fell, positively 
dripping with contempt, "in a fight over a woman."

*********************
	Luke, as the one who had the most to atone for, spoke first.  "You're right, 
Mara,"  he said, his voice still low, although now his tone was almost normal.  
"We've got to stop fighting among ourselves."  Kam nodded, Kyp merely rubbed 
his throat with his free hand, swallowing. 

	Mara gave each of them a tight look and then cast her gaze over their 
heads.  "We've not been ourselves lately, boys," she said, her words light but the 
tone serious.  "Besides," she continued to the general silence, "I think we're going 
about this in the wrong way."

	"How so?" Kam's face was puzzled.

	"Well, first of all, you," here she spat a nasty glance at all three, "have to 
disabuse yourselves of the convenient notion that you're in charge here."   Her 
eyes held a fleeting glimpse at a privately held contempt and she struggled for self-
control.  "That hasn't been true for a while now.  It's time to figure out what's 
really going on."

	Kyp stopped rubbing his throat and gave her a sly, sideways glance.  "I 
don't think Tionne's the real problem, anyway," he said, his voice still rough but 
hopeful.   

	Mara could feel her fingers reach involuntarily for something to strangle 
him with.  "Tionne's never been the problem," she retorted, her anger again 
manifest.  "It was you from the beginning, Kyp," she said, biting off the ends of 
the words as if they were poisonous snake heads.  She leaned forward.  "Some, 
Jedi you are!" she hissed.  "You and the Master," she gave Luke a quick, spiteful 
glance, "took it upon yourselves to manipulate Tionne into falling in love with 
whomever you thought was suitable." She leaned back, in something like triumph, 
but her face was lined with exasperation.  "If she used you, you certainly deserved 
it.  Maybe the 'net's right, after all.  Maybe it's just a big holo-opera on Yavin these 
days."

	Kyp flashed the woman a daggered look but she refused to back down. 

 	"Don't blame Mara for speaking the truth," Luke said quickly, before Kyp 
could retort. "She's right, we're not asking the right questions.  As for blame," he 
returned Mara's spiteful glance with a flickering one of his own, "we don't have 
time for that right now. What I want to know is, how Tionne managed to hide all 
this."

	Kyp's brow furrowed.  "Hide what?"

	Luke's face began to rebuild its habitual serenity.  His voice took on a 
projected quality as he ignored Kyp.  "She was even able to make you forget, 
Kam, that you were there when the message came through."  

	It was Kam's turn to be puzzled.  "I guess that's true....."

	Mara, felt her pulse fade as her anger began to quiet.  "I know that Tionne 
has little or no Force talent," she said with a kind of clinical preciseness.  "I don't 
think, however," here she gave Luke a penetrating look, "that this made her any 
less.   She's a good administrator and, most of the time,  a good friend."

	Luke nodded, in full agreement.  She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw 
a reluctance fade through his eyes, and maybe acceptance.  

	Mara smiled tightly, seeing retribution in her next words.  "But suddenly 
she develops the talent to hide thoughts, feelings and events from everyone at the 
Academy, including the Master, with whom she works closely, very closely, 
according to rumor...."

	Luke, caught off guard, reacted.  "Now, wait a minute!  I only said I was 
tempted...."

	Mara smiled, a vicious expression.  "Yeah, but you enjoyed it," she 
interrupted with the careless brutality born of long acquaintanceship.  "This has 
been going on for a while, hasn't it?" 

	Kyp was staring steadily at Luke, as if he hadn't really seen his teacher in a 
long time.  A slow realization, mixed with anger, and perhaps, disappointment, 
began to spread across his features.  An averted, embarrassed silence followed 
tailed by an unmistakable wafting air of shame.

	"We did the wrong thing, Kyp," Luke said finally, the words an epitaph.  
A computer buzzer pinged, went off and the engine noise, soft and humming 
almost below the range of hearing, shifted into a higher range.

	In the blink of an eye something snapped and Kyp bowed his head, 
contrite.  "I know," he said, admitting, ever so slightly, to his compulsion.  "It's 
just that I love her so much.... I couldn't bear the thought that she'd leave, maybe 
never come back.  Or maybe she'd find somebody else...."

	Mara gave Kyp a hard look.  "It's better to talk about these things, Jedi," 
she said, now only sardonic, "than manipulate your way through them.   You 
should have made your feelings known."  She shifted her gaze away from the 
young man to meet Luke's eyes.  "Of course," she said, directly to him, "the fact 
that you had the Master's approval didn't help any."

	Luke sighed and took charge.  "We're all guilty, including, I think," here 
he hesitated, "Tionne."  He lifted his gaze again, giving Mara an accusing glance.  
"But what's really strange about this is that she shouldn't have been able to do this 
sort of thing in the first place.   She took the intermediate exam almost every year, 
remember?" he continued, giving Kyp a meaningful look.  "She never came near 
to passing it.  Even when you helped."

	Kyp ducked his head, sensing the first genuine smile of the conversation.  
"I never...." he began but thought the better of it and gave up.  "Okay, I helped 
her once," he admitted, not at all repentant.  "She didn't speak to me for a 
month."

	"Well, at least somebody has some integrity on Yavin," Mara said, lifting 
her head and pulling a dirty hand through her hair.  Kam's eyes flashed and Kyp 
winced but Luke remained quiet and serious.  Mara gave him another unforgiving 
glance.  "Skywalker's right, folks.  Tionne never should've been able to pull this 
off.  This has been going on for six months."

	Something triggered in Kyp's memory.  A flash of Han's worried face 
surrounded by a quiet kitchen and a warmed, pottery cup. He shifted in his seat 
and came very near to jostling his arm again.  He spoke up, his voice stronger.  
"Han told me Leia's been attacked through the Force several times in the past six 
months or so.  Until the same happened to you," he continued, inclining his head 
toward Luke, "they suspected you....."

	Mara grinned, her voice portending only just deserts.  "Good family 
relations, the hallmark of the Jedi," she said.

	Luke shook his head.  "I didn't know, but it doesn't surprise me.  It 
explains a great deal about how she's been treating me lately..."

	Mara sighed and sneaking despair wandered into her heart as she 
wondered why no one could get to the point.  "I didn't know either," she put in 
swiftly, pulling them all back to the subject at hand. "But that makes me even 
more concerned.  There's something out there, something very powerful,  
powerful enough to attack Leia through the Force, powerful enough to give 
Tionne Force skills she'd never had before, powerful enough to...."

	A fleeting vision of color and pain washed  through Luke's mind as he 
held up a hand, stopping her.  "Then, we've got to track it down," he said, his face 
momentarily unforgiving and imperious. 

	She sighed and stumbled back to the practical.  "That takes us back to the 
hyperdrive...."

	Kyp looked up.  "Where're we stopping?"

	Mara gave him a straight look.  "Kraseevits Resort and Casino, in the 
Krasny system."

	Much to Luke's surprise, Kyp smiled, a fleeting but good natured 
expression.  "Oh, you mean the honeymoon place."  An outright grin was 
followed by swift, sure words.   "We'll fit in much better there if you pretend to 
be married to one of us."

	Mara couldn't help the rejoinder, suddenly thankful for the lighter mood.  
"Or all of you, as the case may be."

	Kam, in mock despair, groaned.  Luke closed his eyes.  Kyp smiled 
wickedly.  "Some humanoid cultures do that, but...." he gave his table companions 
a sly look. "I don't think we could pull it off .........  Maybe rich newlyweds with a 
couple of retainers."

	Mara gave the young Jedi a mocking look.  "On a honeymoon voyage?!  
No wonder rich people have such a hard time conceiving children!"

	Luke spoke up. "Mara....." he began, his tone slightly pleading.

	She snorted, superior, tiring of the game.  "Alright, alright, I think I've 
upset some sensibilities, here."  She gave the assembly a studied glance.  "As if the 
little scene I walked in on wasn't bad enough."  The flashing anger returned but 
was banished in the space of time it takes to blink.  "I didn't realize Jedi were so 
proper," she continued, giving the table a calculating glance, her gaze moving 
from one suddenly contrite, even bashful, face to another.

	"So, which one of you is it gonna be?" she asked, a gradual smile 
vanquishing any  resistance.

*************************
	Kraseevits Casino and Resort was a planetary experiment, set up after the 
demise of Grand Admiral Thrawn, as a way to pump money into a local system 
which had been depleted, first by the Empire and then by the war of attrition 
afterwards.  The Krasny system, named for a hard-luck explorer who had done 
nothing but lend his name to the place before inevitably moving on, had a climate 
friendly to humanoids along with a great deal of the climactic variety favored by 
them.  There was very little native population to speak of and most of them had 
expired during the Clone Wars.   The population had been primitive, without any 
real industry, so the planetary environment was almost pristine.  

	At first, noting the lack of population, New Republic Industries, a 
conglomerate formed during the first fragile years after Endor, made noises about 
acquiring the planet and establishing a series of factories there, manufacturing 
everything from burlap Jedi robes to plastasteel plating for landspeeder helmets.   
But a nascent environmentalist movement caught wind of the project and 
successfully lobbied the New Republic Senate to declare the place off-limits to 
heavy industrialization.   This was over the protests of the local population, by 
now no longer primitives, who were left with no means of improving their lot.  

	And that's where Laurin Kraseevits came in.  An inveterate gambler, 
unlike most,  he seemed to know when to stop.  Besides, it was clear that the real 
thrills were not at the gaming table so much as in the buying and selling of real 
estate on a planetary scale.  He already held, or had held, title to almost everything 
on Coruscant at one time or another.  But life on civilized shores became dull.  
Especially once the Imperial threat had retreated into the Core Systems.  
Kraseevits called in some old debts, a few favors, and the resort was born, on the 
sixth planet in the Krasny Nine system, holding a slightly elliptical orbit around a 
large sun, with three small satellites.  There was no dangerous wildlife, at least in 
the temporal regions.  No one had yet bothered to explore the equatorial or polar 
regions.

	What was left of the locals were given a share in the profits and, with the 
assurance of fair and equitable distribution any profit and/or risk, business began.  
It was here that *Jade's Fire* limped into spacedock almost exactly one day and a 
half after escaping Coruscant. Kam, playing co-pilot as part of his role as a loyal 
retainer for a slightly off-center, newlywedded mistress, could not help but admire 
the spacedock facilities.  Mara was right.   The facilities, unscarred by battle or 
even much wear, gleamed like a durasteel oasis in a black desert.  The planet 
floated blue and beautiful below it.  For a daft moment, Kam wished somebody 
really had gotten married.  Then they'd be able to enjoy the place.

	"Unidentified ship," a pleasant, female voice intoned through the small 
speakers, "please transmit identification code."

	Luke turned in the captain's chair and transmitted the fake code Mara had 
constructed during their time in hyperspace.  A short wait ensued.

	"You are clear, *Starlight 159*," the computer generated voice said, 
seeming to smile through the miracle of recording technology.  "Please await 
further instructions. Please do not attempt docking without the aid of Dock 
Control.  Welcome to Krasny Nine/Six."

	The voice faded.  Luke flicked a toggle over his head, reaching for it.  Kam 
ran a sensor scan.  

	"Anything?" It was Luke, a little tense but business-like.

	Kam shook his head.  "Nothing.  I don't even see a safety patrol.  Pretty 
slick place, huh?"

	Luke gave the view below something akin to the evil eye.  "Yeah, yeah, just 
don't get too distracted.  We've got to get outta here as soon as possible."

	"What and miss all the fun?"  Mara's voice took them both by surprise. 
She grinned, taking in their startled expressions.  "You people need to work on 
your skills if you want to graduate to the next level," she said good naturedly, 
grinning over crossed arms.  

	Kam smiled back, but Luke frowned.  "Mara, this is no time for jokes.  
We're running a risk here...."

	"They probably won't shoot us down, if that's what you're worried about, 
Jedi," she said, not letting him finish. A flash of irritation came and went.  
"Usually, if there's trouble, they just get your registry number and report you to 
the local NRI office, after banging up your credit record a little.  Lighten up."

	Kam suppressed another smile. Luke only grimaced.

	Kyp stepped into the cockpit.  Turning she gave him a once over. He 
returned it with a concerned look.  "I still think I'm too young for you," he said, 
frowning.

	She grinned.  "Listen, if I'm as rich as I'm gonna make myself out to be, 
we'll fit right in.  Besides, you look pretty good.  You really should wear more 
color, Kyp."  This earned her a glare which gradually became a grin. 

	She straightened, in charge.  "Now, we all know what to do.  Kyp, you're 
the husband, Kam you're the retainer, and Skywalker here's the family pilot."

	Everyone nodded as a male voice, deferent but efficient, sounded over the 
speaker.  "*Starlight 159*, please come to 95 Mark 9.

	"Roger, Dock Control," Luke replied immediately, sounding to their 
surprise callow, almost young again.  "Informing that we need repairs on aft 
engine."

	The response was immediate.  "What's the problem, *Starlight 159*?"

	"Not sure, Control," Luke replied.  "Had an explosion a couple of days 
back.  Just barely made it."

	"*Starlight 159* pull up to 135 Mark 7.  We'll put you at the repair 
facility."

	"Roger," Luke replied, "*Starlight 159* out."

	A general sigh escaped them all as he leaned back in seat.  Mara gave the 
planet a look.  "Well, I'm off to finish jury rigging my accounts, so I pass credit 
muster.  Kyp, come with me, you should at least appear to know a little about 
this."

	"Does that mean I get an allowance?" Kyp asked, recovering some of his 
mischeviousness.

	Mara gave him another up and down look.  "And just how are you going 
to earn it, Jedi Durron?"

	Kyp actually laughed, a rough, barking sound, but a laugh nonetheless.  
Kam shook his head as the two headed back to the common area.  

	Luke, busy with the new docking sequence, shook his head.  "I don't know 
about this....." he muttered.

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

	Unlike Coruscant, there was no suspicion at all.  The repair people were 
clean and well dressed, the facility was spotless, littered with the space toys of the 
rich and well-off, each ship cosseted in it's own, private stall, like old-fashioned 
racing animals, long-limbed and temperamental.  The aft engine was dutifully 
given a once over. 

	"Well, you're hyperdrive's about gone, sir," the chief technician said, 
grinning in anticipation of a fat profit.  

	Luke nodded gravely, as the knowing family pilot.  Mara and Kyp stood 
off to one side, Mara visibly agitated that she could not take an active role in the 
negotiation.  Kam, bags in his hands, brought up the rear.  Luke sent Mara a 
warning glance, but, fortunately, the tech took the expression on the small 
woman's face for the jitters of ignorance.

	"It'll be alright, Ma'am," he said, pitching his voice over Luke's shoulder.  
"Nothin' to worry about."

	Mara resisted the urge call the whole thing off, right then and there.  Kyp 
jabbed her in the ribs with a sharp elbow and she schooled her face. "Don't look 
so worried," he whispered, leaning into her.  She resisted the urge to step back, 
instead regaining some sense of control and followed his lead.  

	The tech smiled.  Love was such a beautiful thing. Luke allowed a wry grin 
to cross his face.  "Just married, three days ago," he said carelessly.  "Father's a 
little upset....."

	"Which one?" the tech asked, his grin giving away the fact that this was 
not an unusual conversation.  

	Luke's grin became wider.  "His," he replied simply.

	A snort of derision followed this.  " Happens all the time," the tech 
replied, his eyes now disinterested.  "Anyway, looks like we're gonna have to 
replace the entire aft section of the hyperdrive system.  That's gonna take at least 
five days.  How long was she planning to stay?"

	Luke shook his head.  "Maybe three.  Wait here, I'll go tell her the bad 
news."

	And so it was settled.  A credit line was established for the repair shop 
and they were registered under the name of Lars, which irritated Luke no end, 
much to Mara's satisfaction.   An obsequious protocol droid showed them their 
suite.

	She and Kyp stepped into a place that was the lap of luxury.  Every bell 
and whistle imaginable was there, along with a few that Kyp had never heard of 
before.  Mara smiled at him.  "Makes you wanna get married, huh?"

	He gave her a caustic look and went back to studying the room.  "Is this 
first class?" he asked, quizzical.

	"Nope, it's in the mid-price range.  I can't afford first class."

	"Where'd they put Luke and Kam?"

	"Over in the servant's wing.  I think there's a pilot's wing too."

	"Uhmm," he replied, thinking.  "I guess it wouldn't look good for us to all 
stay together, would it?"

	She grinned at him, liking the fact that she made him uncomfortable.  
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you, Kyp.  Besides," she gave the room a quick glance 
and yawned, "I'm hungry.  Let's go get the others.  And then find someplace quiet 
to eat."

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

	Luke had to give Mara credit. Kraseevits actually lived up to its billing.  At 
least, once you got away from the stifling environs of the casino and resort.  It was 
situated right next to a breeze tossed, waving field of grass interspersed with 
charming, if rather mysterious, copses of trees.  It was as wild and unfettered as 
the resort area was crowded.  

	Mara had sent Kyp over to the infirmary. She had had to give him a 
detailed description of a slightly illegal game common  among the more well-to-
do involving blasters and certain honeymoon practices.  He was embarrassed, but 
it was better than the truth. She tried to reassure him that the resort meds saw 
injuries like this all the time, and, due to the illegality of possession of blasters 
under certain circumstances, did not ask any penetrating questions.  Besides, these 
were paying customers and discretion was one of the things they were paying for. 

	Kam was off exploring, enjoying the time to himself.  The transport 
dropped Mara and Luke off at the end of the line.  One other couple, practically 
entwined in each other, stepped lightly off the proffered stairs.  Mara and Luke 
followed, a fair distance apart, more sedate. Much to their relief, the couple 
disappeared.

	Mara gave the sun drenched field a glance, shading her eyes.  "Which way 
do you want to go?" she asked, not really caring where they went.  It had been 
decided that none of them should put in too many appearances within the resort 
area itself, for fear of being recognized.  

	Luke stepped up beside her, the nearest he had come to her since his time 
in Coruscant Detention.  "What about that far grove?  I could use the exercise."

	She fought a stab of irritation.  "You would pick the furthest one." 

	He smiled.  "Perhaps we should've rented a couple of those speeder 
bikes," he said, giving her a relaxed glance.  "But  I keep forgetting that you're the 
one who's afraid of being recognized."

	She trained her gaze on the trees.  "I'm not so willing to use that famous 
Jedi mind trick as you are.  I figure the fewer unexplainable incidents around here, 
the better.  We've got to look normal, if that's possible."

	He nodded, seeing the logic in her reasoning.  "I know, Mara.  And I 
appreciate it."

	"Funny way to show it," she muttered.   A silence ensued as they made 
their way down what turned out to be a very clear trail.  The waving grass held a 
strange, almost turquoise quality and the sky was slightly yellow.  No clouds 
graced the sky, but this didn't surprise Mara, since the breeze had picked up, 
blowing them all out.  A herd of cattle-like quadrupeds trotted off over the 
horizon, glowing white in the sunlight.  Bird song drifted over the breeze, lace 
embroidery on a borders of a perfect day.

	Unhurried, they entered the trees, which were rather tall to be so isolated 
on a grassy plain.  Leaves rustled high over their heads, undercurrent to the 
breeze.  Despite the seeming wildness of the place a pair of simple stone benches 
were placed, rather artistically, just where the sunlight pooled on clear days.  They 
stopped under the brownish gloom allowing their eyes to become accustomed the 
low light.  Mara sat, breathing a little hard.

	"You're out of shape," he said quietly, as if they had been talking about 
that very thing just  moments before, instead of walking in silence.

	"No thanks to you, Jedi," she retorted.  I've spent the past three weeks 
dealing with your problems.  Who has time to work out?"

	He nodded, his face serious.  "Sorry," he said, his voice soft.  "It hasn't 
been easy, has it?"

	Her breath calmed and she glanced up at him.  "On any of us," she said.

	He took a turn around the small grove.  Jeweled, woodland colors of 
topaz and tiger-eye filtered around him, reminding him, fleetingly, of Endor.  This 
impression was strengthened by the sound of a modified, civilian speederbike 
buzzing off in the distance.  He paced back to find her watching him.

	"What are you looking at?" he asked, smiling

	She smiled back, her expression a little sheepish.  "Sorry."  The green eyes 
flicked away as if caught looking at something they weren't supposed to see.   "It's 
just that you've become so thin......" she replied, quiet, but with a note in her voice 
he'd never heard before.

	He glanced down at himself.  "Haven't been too hungry lately.  Jail food is 
even worse than the military rations and well, on the ship....."

	She looked away in quick anger, the ugly words still between them.  He 
averted his eyes in shame. A silence passed.

	"You never apologized," she said, finally, her words low and hard in the 
high music of breeze and birdsong.

	"For what?" he asked, shifting his position and defensively crossing his 
arms.

	Another anger greeted him there, a shoving motion in his head.  He 
stepped back.

	"You mean you really don't know?" 

	He looked mystified.

	She stood.  "For everything.  For what you did to Tionne, for what you've 
done to Kyp, for what you've done to....."  The words choked off, sliced through 
the middle, an arrow through the unsuspecting heart.

	He paced again, his right hand clenching and unclenching.  She knew he 
missed his lightsaber, but after the confrontation between him and  Kyp on the 
ship, she had banned them.  They remained safely in a locker on board ship, 
carefully wrapped in the darkness, lying in wait.

	"But, I didn't do anything to Tionne," he began, exasperated.  "I thought 
you were on my side, Mara."

	"I am," she replied simply, "that's why I think you should apologize."

	He faced her, his expression puzzled. "For what?" he said, exasperation 
once again getting the better of him.   "She's the one that started it, remember?  
We've already been through this."

	Her face flushed.  "We haven't even begun, farmboy.  You yourself told 
Leia you wanted to kill Tionne, not to mention what you said on the ship 
yesterday...."

	It was his turn to redden.  "Thanks, Mara."  His words were sarcastic.  "I 
admitted it was a mistake.  I admit I ..... I was enjoying myself.  I admit that Kyp 
didn't realize."  He stepped back, pulling his thoughts back with him.  "But,  like I 
said, Tionne's got something to answer for too."

	She strained through the silence as he finished, thinking that he should 
continue, that there had to be something else.  A moment passed as she realized 
there wasn't.  "You're right, as usual, *Master,*" she hissed, wanting, not for the 
first time, to belt him.  "It's always someone else's fault, someone else's lack of 
control, Tionne's, Kyp's, mine even...... but never you, you don't have any faults...."

	He came close to her again, his hand suddenly clutching her forearm.  
"Mara!" he said his voice holding both warning and comfort, "don't."

	She looked down at her arm.  "Get your hands off me, Jedi," she said, her 
voice holding unmistakable danger.

	Something in his face changed and he stepped closer.  "You seemed to 
enjoy it the last time......"

	She shrugged him off.  "I was just trying to get you out of there.  Leia was 
going to let you sit there, rotting until the investigation proved what you knew all 
along, that you really did try to kill Tionne....."

	A dark emotion passed over his face but he pulled away, dropping her 
arm.  She lifted it, rubbing where his fingers had been, clenching and unclenching 
her fist.  He stood unmoving as a pool of sunlight ran, simultaneously gathering 
and retreating, along the feet of the benches.  Heeding something unidentifiable in 
her mind, she sat.  She was not surprised when he did the same. 

	"I don't know what to think anymore, Mara," he said finally, shoulders 
slumped.  "I tried to kill Tionne, it's true.  I was attracted to her, I wanted her, I 
guess," he continued, too absorbed in introspection to blush at the words.  
"Maybe it was just missing Callie, but she knew all about Callie....... before I did.  
Then there's Kyp......."  A small hesitation occurred here as he collected his 
thoughts.  He looked up to face her.  "The last time I spoke to Leia, she told me I 
was becoming more like Father.  I didn't believe her at the time, but now....."

	Mara moved away from him, momentarily taking in that frightening 
statement.  It didn't take a lot of thought to see that the former princess was on 
the right track.  She pulled her eyes away and swung her feet idly, like children do 
when they pass time on hot afternoons.  Her mind drifted.  Leaning back on 
straight arms, head tilted up to catch the sunlight, she finally spoke.  "She's right, 
Luke," she said, unusually informal.  "If I had to describe this whole thing that's 
the first thing I'd think."   She straightened as if caught by something.  "But, let's 
think about what Kyp said when he talked to Han.  How long's this thing with 
you and Tionne been going on?"

	He was too far gone to be embarrassed.  "About six months, I 
guess.....maybe less. It wasn't obvious when it started...."

	"Kyp and Kam have, mostly, been gone from the Academy about that 
length of time," she put in, her voice now strong and clear. "And don't forget that 
Leia's been attacked several times, all within this six month time frame."

	He gazed directly into her eyes.  "And Callie's message arrived about six 
months ago.  Do you think there's a connection?"

	Directly on the heels of the question, as if jolted by an electrical current, 
he stood, sudden realization in his eyes.  Plant life rustled and crunched under his 
feet as he walked over to a large tree and put a hand on it as if to steady himself. 
She thought for a moment that he had spotted something on the horizon and half 
rose to look, but then realized that he was only gazing off into a middle distance, 
unseeing.  Following the direction of his gaze, through a break in the trees, Mara 
could see the white herd begin a return journey, retreating from the horizon. The 
breeze was gone, abandoning them to a hot, sticky stillness under the arching 
trees. 

	"It's Callie," he said, so softly that she lifted her head, thinking to catch 
the breeze that had begun again.

	"What?" 

	He turned, his face very pale.  "It's Callie.  That's what's in all the visions.  
Don't you remember?"  He came close to her, sitting down.  His hand trembled 
slightly as he took hers, forcing her to shift her weight forward.  "The computer, 
the words on the screen, that's the way we talked on the *Eye.*"

	Her brow furrowed, puckering the top of her nose. "What about 
Tatooine?"

	He smiled to himself.  "That's one of my pleasantest memories.  I had 
passed out on the *Eye* and she came to me...."

	Mara fought an inclination to pull her hand away, but it was held tight, as 
if she were Callie and not Mara.  "We were riding in my old landspeeder, through 
the desert, talking, laughing," a smile graced his face here, genuine, good natured 
and flashing.  She recoiled from it as if it were an offensive weapon, not wanting 
to know.

	"Luke...." she began, giving the hand an experimental pull.

	He only clutched it tighter.  "And then we were on Chad, together in the 
ocean, with the salt and the wind..... I never knew the ocean could be so beautiful."

	His words, describing a moment that never happened years ago, pulled 
him to her.  Something in her was alarmed, but it was muted and somewhere a 
peace fell upon her restless heart, bringing a feeling of belonging.  Her hand 
relaxed in his and she allowed him to come nearer.  The other hand rose to caress 
her face and she sat still, unmoving, as if she were held in stasis, doing nothing to 
stop him.  He lifted his mouth to hers and kissed her simply, like people do when 
they have been away from each other a long time; with gentle, familiar passion.  
She remained still, not thinking, drowning in a pool of warmth that spilled 
through her, warm sunlight on dry ground, a soft blanket in winter, a friendly 
hand in the midst of cold difficulty.

	He pulled his lips away just for a moment, eyes closed, mouth moving, 
words whispered. "Callie," he said, "Callie, I've missed you ......."
	
	Her reaction was instantaneous.  The slap resounded through the grove, 
echoing off a banked breeze that reached between them, pulling them apart. 
Furious she pushed him away, her hands trembling on the verge of a killing anger.  
Standing now, she reached out a hand toward the figure on the bench, and a dark 
tendril laced it's way through the air between them.  Unprepared, he had no time 
to mount a defense.  Instead, he sat, his mechanical hand suddenly pulling at 
something invisible at his throat.

	"I should have known better, Skywalker!" she spat, her shaking 
vulnerability attacking and retreating all at the same time.  "Maybe the Princess is 
right.  Maybe you *are* just like Vader!  This little stunt....."

	His face began to redden as he fought her.  She felt the sudden, haunting 
strength of his presence in the Force as he resisted, white tinged unmistakably 
with ashen gloom.  "Mara....!" he gasped, his voice only a hangman's whisper, 
"Mara.... please... I didn't....."

	Too angry to stand in one place, she let him go, flicking her fingers in an 
unmistakable gesture of contempt.  He collapsed to the ground, his knees falling 
into the hard dust.  She did not see, but had already turned back toward the 
rustling fields and the big sky beyond the latticed trees.  Running fast and sure, 
without looking back, she made for the trail and the transport area.

	He tried to go after her, but the strength of her grip had almost most 
knocked him unconscious.   He could only stumble to the grove's edge, to where 
revealing sunlight met gloaming shadow.  Breathless and coughing, he watched 
helplessly as she vanished, her figure gradually disappearing into the grass.  

	The breeze came up strong, and a tree swayed.  The leaves rioted, their 
small, woodwind voices humming below thought, laughing, accusing.  He glanced 
around, as if he could hear something but was not too sure what it was. Fleeting 
moments later it had vanished, just like Mara, leaving nothing but birds, leaves 
and waving grass.  Resigned, rubbing his neck, he began the long walk back. 

***********************
Raclann IV

	Night settled over the house in the forest.   A close stillness hunted about, 
creeping into corners, lurking in doorways, filtering through curtains.  A rodent 
stirred rustling and, in immediate response, a bird of prey signaled as it glided.  
Ominous silence followed, close, penetrating.  

	She turned her head, awake, the pillow now crushed  under her hair, a 
dark river spread in stop motion over the bedclothes.  Glancing carefully at the 
young man next to her, she felt out through the Force, sensing another presence.  
She watched, at peace, as it stumbled away and then back again, shadowed, 
highlighted in a gloaming light.  The man next to her turned in his sleep, 
muttering and she put out a restful hand, as if she were but a simple witch, casting 
a sleeping spell.  Immediately, he quieted.  She withdrew her hand and lay still, flat 
on her back, gazing up into midnight darkness.  

	Open windows yawned and a drop sweat dribbled down her back, soaking 
through to the bedclothes.  Turning inward, she watched through the Force.  She 
could see his face clearly now, a face she hadn't seen in years.  He looked older, 
more lined but the eyes were the blue of Irek's.  She saw his bewilderment, the 
confusion that rested there, nesting between his thoughts like a hidden parasite.  
His presence was crystalline and light, still pure, but around the edges a burning 
darkness had appeared.   

	She felt his desire from lightyears away and smiled.  The boy next to her 
stirred and mumbled something, reacting to her dark visions.  Immediately, 
glancing over, she fed him more dreams, as a mother feeds her young, sending 
him back off to seek out, even in sleep, the all powerful darkness that was truly the 
Force.

	This was the end, the culmination of her search, of her arduous journey 
from Chad to Djinn's school; from the hibernated, ghost-like existence on the 
*Eye of Palpatine,* to corporeal life.   Power now pulsated within her, growing 
even as she shunted some of it toward the adept, lying in restless sleep. 

	The other, the Master, who held Anakin's eyes and his powerful sense, was 
approaching, circling ever nearer.  Corruption guided him, a hungry carnivore 
snapping bones in the trembling darkness, devouring his soul. If Irek was the son 
of intrigue and strategy, Luke was the son freely given, the true heir to the 
darkside.  The Emperor had tried to turn him once, as had Anakin, but they had 
been too tied to each other, too impatient.  They had almost succeeded, but it was 
his sister who saved him.  Now the sister was out of reach and her brother was 
unresisting, giving himself of his own free will.

	She smiled the secret smile of women when they have bested the men 
around them, bending them, all unknowing, to a passionate will.  Her smoky eyes 
played out through the darkness.  Luke had vanished, his sense now only a 
raindrop within the knowing fields of the Force.  But she had seen his face, had 
heard his voice, had felt his lips.  A sigh escaped her, a moment of victory.

	He was hers.

***********************
Krasny Nine/Six

	Han Solo arrived on Krasny Nine/Six a week later.  He put the *Falcon* 
into Spacedock and, with an old hand's appreciation for the finer things in life, 
filed away the Kraseevits facility as a place worth revisiting, preferably with Leia 
and without the children. He took a room and was gratified when no one 
recognized him.  Major Knezar, his passenger along with Artoo, also settled in.  

	They had dinner in an out-of-the-way place filled with shadows and 
courting couples.  Knezar ate with impatience.  "Are you sure this is where they 
were spotted?" he asked, remembering, like a good spy, to keep his voice down.

	Han smiled, that slow, crooked smile of one who can wait.  "We checked 
out all arrivals in a two-day, 360 radius from Coruscant.  Remember, we're 
looking for a light freighter with three men and one woman.  This is the only lead 
that checks out."

	Knezar took a bite of the meat on his plate.  The holoed lights, 
shimmering barely under the human range of sight, rose to just noticeable and 
than sank again, leaving the room in a peaceful glow.  Han shifted visibly in his 
chair and gave the room a glance.  "I just wish they hadn't selected such an 
*emotional* place," he muttered.   

	"Do you think they're masquerading as newlyweds?" Knezar's voice, 
though low, was still jarring.  

	Han gave the Major a keen look and smiled.  "Who?  Luke and Mara?  
That'd be the day....."  He took a bite himself, although he really wasn't hungry, his 
eyes never leaving off their intense study of the people surrounding them.  "Still, 
it'd be a good strategic move.  Luke and Mara are about the right age for each 
other, but, well, considering a few things, I think they'll play it that Kam or Kyp's 
with her.  Maybe Luke's a servant or something.  He's real good at not being seen 
when he wants."

	Knezar nodded, having come to respect the Chief of State's husband over 
the last couple of days.  "Then we should look for the woman first," he said, 
taking a sip of what had turned out to be very good wine.

	"Don't drink too much of that," Han cautioned more out of habit than 
necessity. "I want to go over to the repair facility and have a look.  And, perhaps, 
the infirmary."

	"How badly do you think Jedi Durron was wounded?"

	"He was unconscious by the time they got to the ship.  I figure he took a 
pretty bad burn."

	"Uhmm," Knezar answered, pushing his plate back, finished.  "Perhaps, 
we should go to the repair facility first.  It should be quiet over there this time of 
day."

	Han shook his head, following Knezar's lead.  "You never know, this 
place seems  pretty busy.  We also need to contact the local NRI office, but," here 
he smiled at Knezar, "I think I'll let you take care of that.  Why don't you go see if 
you can disturb the local operative's dinner while I check out the repair facility? 

	Knezar nodded. 

	"I'll meet you in a couple hours, near the sabacc tables in the main lobby."

	Knezar grinned.  "Not planning on gambling, are you?"

	Han resisted the urge to laugh out loud.  "No, just observing, seeing who's 
there. Gotta remain inconspicuous."

	Han laid credits on the table and they headed out to the night air.  The 
street was full, crowded with beings in various numbers, mostly in pairs, but Han 
noted some triplets,  even quadruplets.  Evidently Kraseevits appealed to some of 
the more cultural fringe elements among humanoids. They came to a corner.  

	Quietly, like an old pro, Knezar let an air of palatable carelessness wash 
over him as he vanished into the crowd.  Han stood for a moment, and then he 
too vanished.  The evening air settled like a soft sheet, full of  laughter and the 
falling, restless, vibrations of disembodied music.   

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

	Kam appeared moments later, seeming to emerge from nowhere.  He saw 
Han's familiar figure fade down the street and wondered, momentarily, how a 
person with no Force sense at all could vanish so thoroughly.  Respect snaked 
through his agitation as he turned back down a side street.  

	He entered the hotel through a side entrance, schooling his face.   
Knocking on Luke's door, he was surprised when it swung open of its own 
volition, since they had all agreed not to use the Force any more than necessary.  
Startled, he glanced back down the fortunately deserted hall, then pushed through 
and closed the door in one easy motion.  

	"Master?" he asked into a general, stifling darkness.

	"Here," a low voice replied.  A light came on.  Luke was lying on the bed, 
fully dressed, eyes closed. 

	Kam pulled up a chair, scraping it across the utilitarian floor.  "Master, 
I've got news.  I saw Han Solo on the street just now, about two blocks from 
here."

	Luke's eyes flicked open.  "Just now?" he echoed.  Something in him 
started as if from a stray electrical current, making his heart race.  

	"I don't think they followed us, but they must have been checking arrival 
manifests...."

	Luke sat up, pulling his legs over the side of the bed. "We've been here 
almost four days.  They were bound to catch on."

	"How long until the ship's ready?" 

	Luke sighed.  "Another day, but I think the tech's just stalling, trying to 
get another thousand our so out of Mara's account."

	"Perhaps we should leave now...." Kam began.

	Luke stopped him.  "Let me talk to Mara and Kyp.  I think you're right -- 
it's time to get away from here.  If Han's here that means that NRI won't be too 
far behind."  Luke stood, making his decision.  "I'll go talk to Mara, you get 
packed.  I'll meet you back here in half an hour."

	Kam nodded and reached for a small bag in the corner.

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

	The corridor was deserted.  Luke found himself motionless before the 
unobtrusive door, thinking.  It had been two days of blank silence since their visit 
to the Khonarian Fields.  He felt her anger, roiling but banked.  He admired her 
control even as he felt a sneaking disappointment snake through her soul.  And, at 
the bottom of the disappointment was a new feeling, struggling but still mute.  A 
deep breath later, he  knocked.  He wasn't really surprised when there was no 
answer.  His force sense told him they were both there, although one of them was 
asleep. Kyp, he decided. He  knocked again. 

	This produced a slow opening of the door.  The light fell upon her, giving 
him a fleeting glimpse of a deceptively simple woman, pale faced and slender, her 
light hand on the gleaming handle.  A searing guilt fell through him as he saw the 
haunted expression in her dull, green eyes.  A dark thought, a flash of self-hatred 
appeared, but he pushed it aside. She stepped out of the way, cold, suddenly very 
controlled.   He closed the door behind him.

	"How fast can you be ready to leave?" he asked, sounding a little 
breathless.

	Her brow furrowed as she switched gears, but her heart of winter 
remained, shadowing forced words.  "Why?"

	"Kam saw Han, on the street, about 15 minutes ago.  We've gotta get out 
of here."

	She frowned and then her face brightened with a cold light, active but still 
forbidding.  "He'll be headed for repairs first, since NRI must have figured we got 
nicked during our escape.  I wondered if the pilot saw anything."  She shook her 
head, looked away and  crossed her arms.  "I'm ready now.  Kyp's asleep, but 
that's nothing.  Kam ready?"

	"Yep, I told I'd meet him back at our rooms.  You gonna check out?"

	"Have to," she replied quickly.  "They impound your ship if you try to 
walk the bill.  They're very efficient."

	"We might not have time, going by what Kam saw."

	Ten minutes later, Kyp and Mara appeared at the servants' wing, Kam and 
Luke were waiting, leaning against the outside wall in the stillness of the Force, 
completely unnoticed.  Mara almost missed them. 

	"I wish you wouldn't do that," she exclaimed in a breathless mutter, 
exasperated. Kam shrugged.  Luke made no sign at all.

	Without a word they began walking.  A light fell across their expressions 
as they moved like ghosts through the evening crowds, striding unnoticed.  The 
evening light shimmered around them, long twilight stretching down the 
charming roads and into exquisite  shops.  Cautious, they boarded a transport for 
the spacedock, moving silently past an alert attendant, who noticed them not at 
all.    

	It was almost dusk now and streetlights were flashing to life, winking like 
newborn stars in the cozy shadows.  The transport held only people preparing for 
their shift at the port.  Kam and Kyp sat together, motionless. Luke was by 
himself, in the front.  Her gaze paused unwilling as she saw him glance back at 
her. 

	The eyes were sharp and blue, even in the low light and his face was ready, 
calculating and defensive.   He made no move, sent no thought or reassuring 
feeling.  A quick sorrow shadowed her heart, as if someone had walked over a 
grave in the sunshine.   She banished it, as old habits reestablished themselves, 
readying for battle.  

	The transport arrived at the spacedock and they filed off, unnoticed.  
Glancing around to get their bearings, they followed Luke, who found the ship.  
With a sinking feeling they gazed over at the freighter and knew they were too 
late.  

	For there, standing with the now familiar tech, was Han, gesticulating in 
an easy conversation, smiling in his charming, careless way.  Han shifted on his 
booted feet, like someone who is considering the purchase of a used spacecraft 
and is about the kick the landing gear, glancing in their direction.  But, evidently, 
he saw nothing because the dark eyes moved through them and away.

	Luke, seeing the expression on his brother-in-law's face, knew that Han 
was being anything but careless.  He realized that Han had, by now, scouted the 
entire hangar, noting where the exits were, noting everyone and everything that 
had used one since he arrived.  Luke turned into a shadowed side room, pulling 
everyone aside with him.

	"What do you think he's telling the tech?" Mara whispered to Luke.

	Luke shrugged.  "Probably pumping the guy for info. By now he knows 
it's us.  I just don't know if he's going to sic NRI on us right away or if he'll just 
wait around and see if anybody shows up to claim the ship."

	She made a contemptuous sound.  "Well, that really ties it.  I was hoping 
we'd managed to lose them...... how do you think they knew?"

	Luke shook his head, but Kyp spoke up.  "I think it's Leia.  She's been 
right about everything so far, so somehow she must have figured out where we 
were going....."

	Mara felt a quick, unavoidable numbness overtake her. "Uh oh," she 
muttered.  

	"What?" Luke said, giving her a critical glance.

	"I think she knows we're going to Rasclann."

	Luke gave her a full half second of gazed silence.  "What makes you think 
that?"

	"Because I was the one that brought the message from Otdjel in the first 
place.  And I told her they contacted me on Rasclann...."

	Kyp almost swore.  "That means we'll never get there!!! They'll have the 
place blockaded......."

	"Not unless we go somewhere else."  Luke's eyes suddenly took on an 
almost violet hue as some emotion flared within.

	"We gotta get my ship back first," Mara said, now irritated.

	Luke, momentarily forgetting about Han, turned to face Mara.  "Why do 
we have to go to Rasclann?" he asked, his eyes deep.  "Can't we just go to .......," he 
paused, searching for the name.

	"Otdjel?" she put in for him.  "Because Otdjel is on Byss and I don't think 
you really want to go back there," she said, some of her normal sarcasm returning.  

	He was silent for a thinking moment.  "Mara, if that's the only way to find 
out what's going on, I'll do it."

	Kyp made a face at that.  "But, Master, you'll be walking into the hands of 
the Empire....... And they won't be fooled by a few mind tricks."
	
	Luke shrugged.  "Looks like I don't have any choice," he said, his mind 
already made up.   "But first," he said, drawing a quick, deciding breath, "I can't 
ask you to accompany me there."  For a moment the Master returned, gathering 
them all with his eyes.  The silence was gripping, unwavering and focused.  "You 
could turn yourselves in, saying I tricked you," he continued to resounding, 
resonating silence.   "That way they'd only come after me."

	Mara willed the floor to stop moving as her heart began to pound.  A 
tendril of fear pulled through and remained, entangling her soul.  She sent Luke a 
slitted glance. 

	Kam gave Kyp an alarmed look.  "We can't do that Master," Kyp said, his 
words swift and garbled .   "We're the ones who broke you out in the first 
place....."

	But something in Luke changed, as ocean currents turn on the spot, as the 
wind shifts within angled corners, as light illumes unexpected shadow.  For a 
moment he felt a salt breeze and the nearness of a vast ocean.  His eyes became 
hard, plastasteel gray and penetrating.  

	He turned to Mara. Kam and Kyp faded to an irrelevant background as 
her presence seemed to fill the empty room.  There was no time for the luxury of 
privacy.  "Especially you, Mara," he said taking her gently by the shoulders.  
Startled, she glanced down at his right hand as it gripped her flight suit.  "I know 
I've hurt you and I deserve......"  a harsh, mechanical breath cut him off here.  "I 
can't let you risk your life in the Core Systems for me.  I have to find this shadow, 
this entity," he paused here, his mouth searching for the words.  Finally he knew 
there was no other way to say it.  "I have to find Callie, Mara."  He closed his eyes, 
willing his thoughts straight.  "She's there somewhere, calling me, even now......" 
he choked a little, his face flushing, his breath coming hard. 

	Kam and Kyp, silent speechless astonishment shading their faces with the 
palest of colors, made no noise nor motion only looked back at Mara to see what 
her reaction would be.

	"She's gone to the Darkside, Luke," Mara said, her gaze still on his hand, 
her face in full profile to him as if recoiling.  But then she faced him and her eyes 
lanced out, green and alive with knowledge and passion.  "You can't save her."

	Black silence, closed eyes and an almost crazed but averted face greeted 
this.  His hands began to bear down on her shoulders, painfully crushing the 
delicate collar bones.  She heard a heard rather than felt cracking but her mind, 
overloaded, made only passing note of it.  "How do you know?" he asked, his 
voice rags and ashes.  

	"I know," she replied simply, facing him again, seeing his beloved face 
now held firmly in thrall to another.  A fever boiled up through her sense and she 
realized  that she had dissuade him from this, before he finally broke through the 
last of his carefully constructed barriers.  

	The man standing before her refused to give up.  "I can save her, Mara, I 
know I can......" he began, fleetingly resembling an overly idealistic, sunburned 
farmboy, gazing off into the stars.

	She shut her eyes, fighting an unloosed control.  A hard certainty edged 
her voice.  "She wants you, Luke.  She's going to turn you." She lowered her voice 
so that it was almost inaudible.  "Do you remember what you promised me once?"

	Instant understanding flooded his face.  She winced as he redoubled his 
grip on her wounded shoulders. "You didn't turn...." he began but the voice cut 
off, choked in a bramble of passion.  He bowed his head, persistence riding his 
labored words.  "I can turn her back, Mara."   And even though she was prepared, 
even though she sensed what he was going to say before he said it,  the next 
sentence was as a physical blow, sending her reeling.  "That way we can finally be 
together......"

	A roaring blackness began to descend over her as she pulled her eyes 
open, willing the light to appear normal, willing the world to stop shaking, willing 
the painful, bright colors pleasant and soft. Wearily, she made one more attempt.  
"I'll kill you, Luke, before I see you turn.  I swear it." she whispered, pulling at her 
blaster.   But it was shoved out of her hand before it had even cleared the holster.

	He dropped his hands and straightened, the weapon now firmly in his 
right hand.  His next words assailed at her very consciousness, for with them she 
knew he had lost his soul.  "I don't care anymore, Mara.  I love her.  I can't live 
without her."  

	Kyp finally found his voice and stepped forward.  "Master, I can't let you 
go.  I can't let you be killed by that....."

	And, without warning, as if a blinding curtain had fallen, all light was 
obliterated.  Dead silence fell as Luke remained standing while the rest, now fallen 
out of their disguise, lay unconscious on the floor.  By now Han and the tech had 
moved away from the ship and Luke strode quickly, like an unseen ghost, up the 
ramp and into it.     

	A trembling intensity seized him as he guided a carefully wrapped bundle 
back down the hatch onto a small worktable near the tech's office. He watched as 
it floated in a bubble of strange, peaceful invisibility and then stilled.   Sitting in 
the captain's chair, he pulled at a switch and *Jade's Fire* lit up, all in one easy 
motion.  An alarm began to sound as a pre-flight sequence simply appeared within 
the flight computer.

	 The tech, now standing in his office, turned to gaze open-mouthed out 
his window as the engines revved up. The repulsors roared to life and the docking 
portal began to push open as if it were being forced, it's well-modulated hinges 
and gears whistling, scraping and clanking in protest.    

	*Jade's Fire* lifted, and with astonishing speed, crashed through what was 
left of the half-opened ceiling hatch, throwing an explosion of  dust and debris 
into the immaculate holding area.   Han, now running, exited the office, just in the 
time to see the ship lift off. Stopping dangerously near the repulsor trails he 
reached a hand toward the disappearing ship.  "Luke! No! ......... Luke!" he yelled, 
but his voice was lost in the killing heat and roaring engines.  

	The floor trembled, a toolrack rattled and crashed somewhere as the ship  
pulled away,  fighting the planet's sluggish gravity well.   Han, standing helplessly 
on the hangar deck, could only watch as the little freighter pulsed away, out of 
sight.  

	Stunned, he stood motionless for a moment  as people began running and 
someone yelled in alarm and pain.  The klaxon was joined by others, bursting into 
a cacophony of emergency.  The tech, in haste and perhaps a heightened 
sensibility, noticed a strange bundle on his worktable.  He moved to pick it up.  
But Han, playing a hunch and moving fast, got there first.  

	Swift hands unwrapped the soft cloth.  Inside his fingers fell unwilling 
upon three lightsabers, dull and menacing in the cold work light.  Knowing with 
weighted heart he was too late, that things had moved beyond his or anyone's 
control, Han gazed up at the ragged, smoking hole in the ceiling and said a prayer.  
He let his hands fell in despair, the lightsabers cold in his fingers.  He gazed 
upward for a moment, now unaware of the chaos erupting all around him, caught 
within knowing stillness.   

	"I'm sorry, kid," he said softly.  And then a benediction.  "May the Force 
be with you."

***************************
Coruscant, Med Center

	She blinked in the lights.  A diagnostic panel framed the bed, noting the 
increase in her heart rate and respiration.  Panic made her sit up too fast.  
Instantly she regretted the motion as a massive grinding feeling in her right 
shoulder threw her back down again.  Arms limp at her sides, she gazed around 
the room, at first noting only quiet machinery.....  but no there was a being there, 
someone familiar.

	"How are you, Mara?"  It was Cilghal.

	A world of information flooded into Mara's mind all in the space of time 
it takes to  blink.  "Oh no," she groaned, her voice a drugged whisper, 
"Coruscant."

	Cilghal gave her what passed for a kindly look.  "Yes.  You've been 
unconscious for over 48 hours."  The voice became muffled as the Mon Calamari 
turned toward her panel.  "I'm just going to run some diagnostics, to make sure 
everything is alright."

	Mara, struggling with her emotions, nodded.  "How are the others?"

	The reply was matter-of-fact.  "Kyp was the hardest hit.  He had the 
blaster burn.  He's spent the past several hours in a bacta tank.  Kam is already in 
Detention."

	Mara merely nodded.  "I knew it," she muttered.

	"Knew what?" To Mara's surprise, it was Tionne.  A swish of feminine 
skirt and carefully done hair entered the room, oblique and unreadable.

	"Uh...." Mara stammered, thoroughly surprised to see Luke's assistant.  
"They've put up a ysalamir screen, haven't they?" she said, her voice flat.

	Tionne merely nodded.  "Yes, it was set up when you were brought in.  
Although," here she gestured at Cilghal, "you were temporarily removed from 
their field for healing purposes."

	Mara nodded, swallowing. "I see."  A deciding silence. "Are we under 
arrest then?"

	Tionne's face acquired a puzzled expression, as if she wondered why Mara 
would have to voice such an obvious question.  "I would say so, yes.  They have 
very good holos."

	Mara turned her head away as a lancing thought ran through her mind, 
sudden and powerful.   Her field of vision was suddenly obscured by a stinging 
mist.  "Where's Luke?" she whispered, her words garbled. 

	Tionne cocked her head, still puzzled.  "We were hoping you'd be able to 
tell us that," she replied, her voice inappropriately light and musical.  "They found 
you right after he blasted out of  the spacedock at Krasny Nine/Six."

	Cilghal interrupted her voice pleasing and soft.  "Please don't move, Mara. 
I want to see how the healing progresses."

	A moment of silence took hold as the diagnostic computer ran a complex 
series of sequences.  Seconds later a whistle sounded.  Cilghal approached the bed.  
"Your collarbone has been broken," she said, quite serious.  "I have knitted the 
bones together, although I would prefer you undergo more therapy."  She gave 
Tionne a significant glance.  "However, that will have to wait. There are people 
who wish to ask you questions first."

	Mara nodded and Tionne helped her sit up, being careful not to pull on 
her arms.  A repulsor chair appeared at the door.  Mara glanced at it, stung out of 
her apathy.  "I don't really think I......"

	"Orders," Cilghal replied, interrupting.  "When you have finished you will 
go into the electro calsifier," she said.  She gave Tionne a signal and the repulsor 
chair moved.

	It took them a good fifteen minutes to make their way to the Chief of 
State's conference room.  Mara, weak from the Force blow and a broken 
collarbone, merely sat, uncharacteristically quiet.   There was no conversation.

	The door slid open.   The Chief of State stood, expectant.  Mara lifted her 
head and gazed around.  Han was there, concerned and quiet, along with 
Chewbacca.  Kyp was slumped in a corner chair, although the expression on his 
face when he saw Tionne was instantaneous and indescribable.  Kam was stoic, 
almost embarrassed.  Ackbar was there, along with Knezar.

	"How do you feel, Mara?" Leia asked, allowing the tension to dissipate.

	Mara did not smile.  "Not well," she answered, the truth.  

	"Are you in pain?" Leia asked, her brows knitting a little in concern.  Mara 
took refuge in a lie. "No," she said.  

	Leia's expression noted a doubt but she let it pass.  Tionne pushed the 
chair to a stopping place near the table and then moved to take her own chair.

	Leia folded her face into a formal, remote expression and began.  "You are 
all duly notified that you are officially being held on charges of aiding and 
abetting escape from Detention -- a serious matter. However," here she looked at 
Han, " you have also been brought here for purely informational purposes.  My 
husband," she drew her eyes away from Han's face, "seems to feel that all of you 
know where my brother is going."

	Kyp sighed but said nothing.  Kam sat silent. Ackbar shifted in his chair, 
and Knezar leaned forward.

	"He's going to Byss," Mara said, her voice low, still weak from the drugs.  

	This earned  her a flashed look from Kyp.  Tionne's brow furrowed.  
"Why Byss?" she asked at once, her voice childlike but her sense pouncing, feline 
and curious. 

	"Because Callie's there," Mara said, resignation falling through every 
syllable of the short sentence.  

	Tionne's face momentarily contorted as she absorbed this information.  
Kyp straightened. "We're still not too sure about that, Mara.  Maybe she's still on 
Rasclann."

	Mara shook her head, careful not to shift her body.  "No, I felt it," she said 
in a tone that brooked no argument.   "She's going to Byss and Luke's following."

	Leia made a sharp, hopeless motion.  Han shook his head.  "Why?" she 
asked, as if she had changed her words mid-thought.

	Mara lifted her head and gave each person in the room a hard look, as if 
they were a group of interrogative strangers she had never seen before.   They all 
gazed back at her, with much the same expression. She licked dry lips, even in 
weakness carefully selecting the information she wished to impart.  "Callie's fallen 
to the darkside.  He's gone to turn her."  These two simple sentences dropped like 
flat stones onto the grand table.

	Leia became very pale.  Her hands came up to clutch uselessly at the 
beautiful table, her fingerprints leaving a temporary impression before she rubbed 
her hands over them.  "It's been Callie all along, hasn't it?" she said, voice low 
with realization.  A spasm of guilt played across the pale features, shaking loose 
from a tight control.  

	Tionne was confused.  "What do you mean?" she asked, crossing her arms 
and looking directly at Mara.

	Mara slumped within the chair, not caring anymore, wanting only sleep.  
"Everything, your vision, the force attacks, everything.   It's all been Callie."

	"But.....she....I took...." Tionne stuttered, looking in amazement from one 
to the other.   "How could she....?"

	"She's very powerful, Tionne.  We were afraid this might happen."  This 
was Han, touching Tionne's forearm in a gesture of warning and comfort.  Mara, 
looking away, saw Kyp give Tionne an agonized look, but she was unaware of 
him.  Evidently, all her force strength had vanished.

	"Then you think she's got something to do with Otdjel," Knezar put in, 
his voice flat.

	"Yes," Mara said, "I do.   They're up to something, Major."

	"Why should we believe you?" the Major rejoined impatiently, startling 
everyone.

	Mara merely glared at him, unable to speak.  It was Kyp who spoke.  
"Because, as of this moment, you know as much as we do, Major," he said, his 
voice beginning to resonate with powerful irritation.

	Leia closed her eyes.  "Do you think Luke will be able to save her, Mara?"

	Mara shook her head, her features calm but still unable to hide a sneaking 
sliver of fear.  "No.  I don't think he's strong enough to turn her.  He'll have to 
kill her."

	Tionne gasped, Kyp and Kam held serious, controlled faces, Han frowned 
and Ackbar was unreadable.  Knezar merely pursed his lips.  

	Leia opened her eyes again finally understanding it all at last,  as one who 
searches through a dark forest for the clear, simple light of truth.  "And, if he 
doesn't kill her?"

	Mara looked the former  princess directly in the eye and refused to mince 
words.  "I believe Callista has become as powerful as Vader in his prime.  That 
gives Luke two choices:   she kills him, or" something made her hesitate here, 
struggle with the words, "he too falls to the Darkside."

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

	Han showed up in Detention a day later.  All three were in separate cells.  
These were public holding areas with no doors, only subtle, humming force fields.  
The walls were clean but institutional and the floors echoed.   Kam was reading, 
Kyp staring into the ysalamir laced space and Mara was lying down on her bunk.  
The calsifier, although still interfering with her muscle tone, had taken away most 
of the pain.  Still, the blow Luke had used to strike them unconscious, along with 
the drugs administered on Krasny Nine/Six, had taken their toll.  She felt like an 
old rag, washed out and wet.  She dozed, drifting in and out of jumbled, half 
waking dreams.

	She had no idea he was there until the guard keyed off the force field.  
Gingerly pulling herself up to a sitting position, she watched him come in.  Polite 
in surrender, she motioned for him to sit.  He pulled up a chair, turned it around 
the wrong way and sat down.  Like a charming child, he leaned his head on the 
back of it and gave her a studied look.

	She blinked back.  "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" she asked, 
with a glimmering of her characteristic sarcasm. 

	"Why'd you give up so easy?" he asked, his voice clear as daylight and 
grounded securely in common sense.

	She frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

	"You haven't made a move to get out of here or even talk to the Jedi twins 
over there," he said quickly.  "What's the deal?"

	She turned her face away.  "Have you been spying on the holonet?" she 
asked, too weak to push him away.

	He smiled.  "That's only in the cells with doors.  Besides," he gestured 
quietly, "this is maximum security.  Prisoners aren't allowed holonet access here."

	She nodded, studying her shoes.  "Then how do you know?"

	Han grinned.  "I asked the guard."

	This produced a small smile.  "Good, Solo, very good.  You always were 
too smart for your own good."

	He dipped his head, making a disjointed bowing gesture.  "So, what's 
really going on Mara?  No one has to tell me you're not yourself.  And Kyp's 
downright morose.  What's with you guys?"

	She sighed.  "You wouldn't understand."

	He reached over to touch her arm.  "Try me," he said, his eyes shadowed.

	For a long moment she only looked at him, noting that his handsome face 
had fallen a little and the clothes, though ordinary, were new.   She looked away 
intending to stonewall, but something within her surrendered to his quiet 
concern.

	"It was a tough trip, Han," she began, startling him by using his given 
name.  "Luke almost killed Kyp during the jump..."

	"Why?"

	She shook her head.  "Ostensibly over Tionne.  That's when we began to 
figure out that Tionne wasn't the problem."  A vision flashed before her eyes, a 
dark figure cloaked in power and mystery and a struggling adept, facing invisible 
death.

	"That's when you figured out it was Callie..." he prompted after she fell 
into a silence.

	"Not really," she replied, blinking and raising her eyes to gaze over his 
head.  "We knew it was *something,* we just didn't know what.  It wasn't until we 
got to Kraseevits that we began to put it together."

	Han gave her a critical glance.  "Did Kam and Kyp figure this out too, or 
was it just you and Luke?"

	Her head whipped around and, to his infinite surprise, she blushed hard. 
"What are you getting at, Solo?"  The words were suddenly hard edged, defensive.

	Han held up his hands, palms up, in a gesture of  surrender.  "Nothing.  I 
just wanted to know how you figured it out, that's all."

	She sighed and mentally kicked herself for being easily provoked.  "I'm 
sorry.  I'm just a little ....... upset, that's all."  She lifted her head again and 
attempted a careless look, but he thought her green eyes flashed sorrowful.  "We 
were talking...... and he finally put it together.  All the visions come from his time 
on the *Eye* and after that it all fell into place."

	"But when did he decide to follow her to Byss?"

	Her brow furrowed.  "I'm not too sure.  We had a ....... disagreement and 
we really weren't speaking, at least not when we didn't have to."

	Han smiled mirthlessly to himself and gave the small, bleak room a quick 
look.  "Uhmmm, I see," he said, as if he really did.  

	She surprised him by continuing.  "Although, I think it wasn't until he 
saw you that he made up his mind," she said.  She closed her eyes and it was as if 
the words ran away from her, uncontrolled and frenzied.   "It was as if he was 
possessed, shadowed, almost blind.  I've never seen him act this way before."

	Han gave her a serious look.  "I have, or I should say, Leia has" he put in 
serious, stopping her as neatly as if he had dropped a net over her.  "When he 
came to Bespin to rescue us from Vader."  He shuddered a little, startling for such 
a strong man.  "He couldn't resist his father......"

	Her eyes lit up.  "That's it, exactly!"

	"Kyp said he wouldn't let you go with him," Han began experimentally.

	Her face fell.  "That's why he knocked us out, because we insisted.  I tried 
to tell him that she wants to turn him, I tried to stop him......." She hesitated as 
some emotion flashed through, instantaneously gone.  He saw the pale face redden 
with what he thought at first was sadness.  But, then in shock he saw through her 
sightless eyes and knew it was anger;  fiery, boiling and dark, a large Delortorinian 
terraleopard, feline eyes ready for the kill.  She set her lips, clenching her teeth 
together.  Suddenly aware of his regard, she jerked away and he was astonished to 
see her eyes glisten under the bland lights.  Knowing this observation would be 
humiliating to her, he looked away. 

	"Are you sure?" he asked, shifting on the hard chair.

	She held her shielded face in the shadows.  A silence reigned so long that 
he began to think she had fallen asleep while sitting straight up.  "Mara?" he asked, 
his voice filled with worry.

	She lowered her head, a sudden motion.  "He wouldn't let me go with 
him, Han..." she whispered on the verge of confession.  "After all we've done for 
each other, he cast me aside, like he didn't need me anymore......."  Her right hand 
clenched itself into a small, killing fist.

	Han seeing a great many things he knew he shouldn't see, put another 
resting hand on her forearm.  "You need to sleep now, Mara," he said.

	Wordless, gaze blinded, she remained silent and lay back on the bed.  Her 
eyes closed.  With astonishing simplicity, like a wounded child, she closed her eyes 
and fell asleep.   

	Slowly, as if under a great burden, Han stood.  Turning he signaled the 
guard. As the force field opened for him, he toggled the lights down low, to 
sleeping levels.  "Good night, Mara," he muttered as the force field flew back into 
place.

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

	Wryly Han saw his  harassed wife to the port.  Her ship was there waiting 
and ready.  She gave it a critical look as it seemed to settle in the hanger like a 
large, captive bird, metal feathers held mechanical and motionless.  "You gonna be 
alright?" he asked softly as the escort moved away.   

	She turned her head.  "Yes, I think so, anyway.  These negotiations have to 
proceed, Han.  I can't just go running off after Luke...."

	He put a gentle hand on her shoulder.  "No matter how much you want 
to," he finished for her, hearing her thought as if it were his own, in his mind.

	She smiled, a sad expression.  "You know, flyboy, for such a force empty 
person you seem to read minds real well....."

	He put his lips next to her ear, simultaneously kissing and replying.  
"Compliments will get you everywhere, Princess."

	She grinned.  "You'll be alright here?" she asked, her eyes encompassing 
the room and all that was outside it.

	"No," he replied, his words low and catching in the echoing room.  "But 
I'll be waiting for your return.  You can make up for it then."

	This earned him a laugh, a bitter one, but a laugh nonetheless.  He smiled.  
"Shall I see you in?"

	She shook her head.  "No, Knezar's already there, along with the page and 
Threepio.  Ackbar's got a few reminders, of course.  They're all waiting."
	
	"Then I'll kiss you here."  And he did, as the techs and mechanics 
watched, amused.

	"It's just like you to make a spectacle out of yourself," she said as he 
pulled away.

	He grinned, his eyes flashing and she realized once again, as if she needed 
reminding, why she loved him.  "May the Force be with you."

	She grinned back, only lurking sorrow dogging her eyes to show the 
burden she bore.  "You too, flyboy."  And with that she turned for the ship.

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

	Two days after his first visit, Han turned up again at Detention and 
casually held the guard rapt.  A low conversation ensued, after an amazed 
exclamation, along with much switching between data cards and various 
authorities, flashing lights and sequences entered and approved in wary but 
proper succession.  A data pad was handed back to him, his hand carelessly taking 
it from the careful young man who held the maximum security  post.   Then they 
headed for the cellblocks.

	Kyp glanced up startled.  "Han, what are you doing here?  Any word from 
Luke?"

	Han merely smiled and signaled to the guard.  The force field disappeared. 
Kyp's face held questions but Han's manner motioned for the Jedi's silence.  The 
same was done for Kam.  Finally it was Mara's turn.

	She stood at the edge of the force field, ready.  Her shoulder still ached 
but the pain was bearable.  A calmness settled over her face, as if she had made a 
decision.

	Han escorted the Jedi straight from detention to his private hanger.  The 
*Millennium Falcon* sat grounded and awkward, a misshapen hulk of worn metal 
and mechanical improbabilities.  The hanger was deserted.  Mara stopped, taking 
in the readied ship, the echoing hanger, the wordless Han.  

	"What's the deal?" she asked quickly, not standing on ceremony.

	He looked at her.  "I sprung you.  You have to admit, it went much better 
than the last time."

	The earned him a sarcastic look.  "Why?" she asked, crossing her arms.

	He gave his beloved ship a glance and then turned to look her straight in 
the eye.  "Because somebody's gotta save Luke and it sure as Kaznaith isn't going 
to be me.  I'm force empty, remember?"

	"Han...." Kyp began, blinking as the Force overloaded his mental 
processes.  The room was light, white and brilliant, blinding.  

	Han grinned.  "Believe me, I don't envy you Jedi ....... never did."  He 
glanced around the room.  "We're ready to leave now.  Chewie's already aboard.  
Everything you need is there."

	Mara slitted her green eyes at him.  "How'd you do it?"

	"Pulled a few strings, called in a few favors," he said carelessly, but she 
knew he was anything but careless.  "Nothing's ever gonna get done with all of 
you sitting in Detention.  Besides, if you survive," he returned Mara's look and 
then some, "you can explain later."

	She grinned at that.  "What makes you think we're gonna survive?"

	He shrugged.  "I didn't say you would.  But for this we need Jedi," he said  
he gaze encompassing them all.  "And you're the best we've got.  Somebody's 
gotta fight Callie."

	Kyp smiled, a genuine, flashing expression full of unexpressed regard.  
Han recoiled a little.  "Don't thank me yet, Kyp," he replied to the unspoken 
emotion.   "You might not make it..."

	Kam stepped up.  "Then we die honorably," he said.

	And with that the four filed toward the ragged ship.   Han's eyes glittered 
with something Mara hadn't seen there in years.  Kyp was unreasonably happy and 
Kam merely content.  She felt herself being pulled along, her head held high.   
They caught sight of Chewbacca, standing sentinel at the opened hatch.  With 
familiar steps, they clattered aboard, each finding a place within the familiar 
confines of the ancient freighter. 

	She found herself really seeing the ship for the first time in a very long 
time.  The common area was worn, the small playing/eating table chipped where 
Chewie had protested innumerable chess games with Artoo.   The controls, 
antiquated but efficient, flashed around her, ready.  It breathed of life, history, a 
past shrouded not in shadow but light. It spoke of a famous quest so long 
discussed, portrayed and read about that no one realized anymore just how 
remarkable it had actually been.

	Mara noted with a glimmering of uncharacteristic patience that even the 
small Artoo unit was there, chirping cheerily away in binary, as always quite 
unintelligible. 

	Han entered, a component of something mechanical and disorganized in 
his hand.  He smiled at Mara.  "You settled in?" he asked, sitting for a moment 
and switching the gadget from one hand to another.

	She gazed at him, the green eyes suddenly intense.  "It's been a long time, 
hasn't it?" 

	He nodded, his eyes flickering in something like nostalgia.  "Yeah, I guess 
it has," he said, leaning back and giving the cramped, disorganized room an 
affectionate glance.  He tapped a knuckle against a console on the wall.  "I 
remember running off to rescue Luke a few times in this old bucket.  I even shot 
Vader off him once, but I suppose you know all about that...." he continued, 
giving Mara a sideways look.

	She allowed a small grin.  "I do remember something about that, Captain 
Solo," she replied, her voice light.  "Or is it still 'General Solo?'"

	He shook his head.  "In title only.  Mostly to keep my security 
classification." He leaned forward.  "Truth to tell," he whispered conspiratorially, 
"I prefer 'Captain.'" 

	She put a hand on the hard seat next to hers.  The cold metal shaped itself 
to her palm, friendly and reassuring.  "'Captain'" it is, then," she replied crisply.  
"And as Captain, I suppose you'll forgive me for reminding you that we have a 
tradition to uphold here."

	Once again he glanced at the ship, as if it were alive, the flashing readiness 
lights a sure sign of heart and soul.  "A tradition of rescuing people, of pulling 
Luke and a crazy hermit off Tatooine, of pulling a certain Princess off a certain 
Death Star, of pulling out of Hoth with stormtroopers in plain sight.  Is that what 
you're talking about, Mara?"

	She let the grin become a genuine smile.  He, knowing how rare and 
disturbing sincere smiles were for her, felt only partially reassured.  "Precisely.   
Once again, somebody needs rescuing."

	He gave her a penetrating look.  "It's always the same, isn't it?"

	She gazed straight back, her flashing green to his shadowed hazel. "Once 
more for old time's sake, Captain," she said.

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



Samizdat - Chapter Six

Tatooine

	Leia leaned back into the cushioned chair and closed her eyes.  
A tall, middle-aged man of dignified visage lightly touched her 
shoulder.  She opened her eyes but no greeting smile played across her 
face.

	"Are you feeling well, Princess?"  It was a formal phrase, 
evoking a momentary, murmuring homesickness.

	She straightened and gave him an alert look.  "Yes, Lepnatos, I 
am.  We just came out of hyperspace, didn't we?"

	He smiled, his face cracking into well-remembered laugh 
lines.  "Your instincts serve you well, Princess." he replied,  using her 
old title.  She did not correct him.  He was an old friend, one of the 
few remaining from her childhood.  All Alderaanians used her former 
title.  It set them apart from everyone else.

	She glanced around.  "Is everyone ready?"

	He nodded.  "Are you sure you want to go through with this, 
Princess?  There is time, still, to return to Coruscant.  You could send 
someone else."

	Her expression became tight.  "You remember the conditions, Lepnatos.  
Otdjel specified that their representatives would only negotiate with someone of 
senatorial rank or higher."  She smiled here, catching the older man's slight 
disapproval.  "Everyone else we could think of would have killed them on 
sight.  I would have sent Luke....."  her voice almost choked here but she 
switched the subject, a cat pawing gracefully along the edge of a steep roof.  
"Even Knezar agreed..... after a time."

	"And a great deal of argument," Lepnatos put in with a familiarity born 
of long friendship and shared sorrow.

	"The Major means well, Lepnatos," she reminded.

	He nodded.  "I know, Princess."

	She gave the cabin a swift glance, her eyes all business.  "You'd better 
get everyone strapped in.  I have a feeling we'll be docking soon."  Not taking 
her own advice, however, she rose to make her way to the cockpit.

	Twin suns pulled curtains of dangerous light and radiation over the 
spacedock, blinding the pilot, who gave the front viewport an irritated glance 
and continued to do a readout on blind docking procedures.  The suns 
shimmered, too close for comfort.  A sigh escaped her and the pilot gave the 
small figure in the back of the cockpit a warning look.

	"Listen sister, this isn't gonna be pretty," she said, gathering up the small 
girl with her hard-edged voice.  "Maybe you should go sit in the back."

	T'anonma held the older woman's gaze.  "Have you ever been here 
before?"

	A frown fell over the pilot's face as she swiveled the new-style chair, 
searching for the correct readout.  "Diplomatic ship "Alderaan," do you copy?"  
This was the comm.

	"Copy, Mos Eisley," the pilot replied immediately.  "We're flying blind 
up here."

	"Understand, *Alderaan.*   We'll guide you in."

	The pilot hit another bank of switches and a console retreated into 
readiness, the engines now off line.  "Much obliged, Mos Eisley.  Can't see a 
thing."

	"Five seconds to tractor beam," the controller's voice said.  The pilot 
sat back in her seat, her alert gaze watching the consoles, looking for trouble.  A 
relaxed sigh escaped at the tractor beam took hold without incident, pulling the 
ship gracefully, like some sort of metallic feather, into a small orbital docking 
path.

	The pilot turned to T'anonma. "No, I've never been here before.  Have 
you?"

	T'anonma gave the other a smile.  "I've only read about this place.  Is it 
as dangerous as the holos make out?"

	The pilot grinned.  "Probably.  Although it's a lot more built up than it 
used to be."

	Leia stepped into the cockpit, hearing the comm.  "Trouble?" she asked, 
a light in her eye.

	The pilot schooled her face.  "Only with docking, Your Excellency.  The 
suns are too bright...."

	Leia gave the hazy, orange ball of dust below a meaningful glance.  
"That was never a problem before.... "

	"If you'll pardon me, Your Excellency, that was before there were so 
many visitors.  If you'll notice, even the spacedock is new."

	Leia lifted her eyes and gazed in wonder at the durasteel marvel now 
below the ship.  It drifted, a floating nest in the arms of the twin suns, as the 
tractor beam guided them into a secure place amongst gleaming, space-going 
ships.  Leia even noted a freight yard full of transport ships of every age and 
description.  She sighed.  

	Where had all the time gone?  Where was that isolated, backwater of a 
planet of a lifetime ago?  She gave the pilot a glance.  "I haven't been back since 
Han was....." A short pause stifled her as she frowned.  "I'm sorry," she 
continued, briskly.  "I guess I have a history here.  These changes have taken me 
by surprise."

	The pilot smiled.  "You're not the only one.  The spacedock was only 
completed six standard months ago.  According to scuttlebutt, none of you 
would recognize the place."

	Leia smiled in reminiscence, seeing things she hadn't thought of in years.  
"Maybe that's all for the better," she said.  "Anyway, I must be preparing to 
disembark.  Has the consulate contacted you yet?"

	The pilot shook her head.  "I'm sure they will as soon as the docking 
procedure is completed.  They're very cautious."

	'Especially now,' Leia thought as she turned back toward the common 
area and her seat.  Her bags were already packed.

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

	Marron Barron, newly elected Mayor of Mos Eisley, glanced nervously 
at the empty transport area and gave his chrono a hard look.  "Well, where is 
she?"

	An assistant stepped forward.  "Actually, the Chief of State is not due in 
for another six minutes, sir."

	An irritated expression crossed Barron's face.  "I know that.  But her 
ship's already docked...."  He sighed and gave his assistant a knowing glance.  
"Is everything ready?"

	The assistant shrugged. "As ready as it's ever going to be.  We've put up 
pickets for the protesters.  The City Council is furious."

	Barron made a face.  "Just make sure they don't make trouble.  Have the 
Imperials arrived yet?"

	This produced a fearful look at the ceiling.  "Yesterday.  NRI decided it 
would be better if they arrived first.  I've already got them settled in."

	Barron's eyes flicked around the room as he absorbed the information.  
"This is never going to work, you know," he said quickly.

	The assistant merely smiled.  It was going to be tough, hosting two such 
implacable adversaries, especially on such a memory-laden place as Tatooine.  
No one on there  had ever forgotten that the revered Jedi Master of the New 
Republic had once been an obscure resident.  He was their pride and joy, 
although things weren't exactly going well for Luke Skywalker these days.  Still, 
there was great sympathy for him and his more distant sister.  Besides, since the 
demise of the war, the tourist trade had been excellent.  And the local 
Commerce Committee wanted it kept that way.  Barron shifted nervously from 
one foot to another.

	A small light flashed in the impossible sky as the transport began final 
approach.  "Vector 271, right on time," the assistant muttered.

	"Ksing, stop playing pilot," Barron said as the ship pulled over the port 
and began its landing sequence.

	Ksing, unintimitated by his superior, merely shrugged.  "Too many years 
with the Rebellion," he began.

	"Don't start!" Barron hissed, sensing another improbable war story.

	The transport alighted lightly, a delightful bird of a lady never 
acknowledging Tatooine's gritty gravitational field.  It was a brand new model, 
only lately arrived from the Dalinga system, where a remarkable renaissance in 
space transport was underway.  Barron schooled his face and smiled, having 
already memorized just how long the hatch opening sequences were.

	Sure enough, he had it right down to the nano-second.  The hatch locks 
sprang open.  Chief of State Leia Organa Solo stepped confidently from the ship 
and onto legendary Tatooine. She flashed a smile at the Mayor who was not 
prepared to be flustered.

	"Uh.... Your Excellency," he managed with only a small stammer, taking 
in the small, almost unprepossessing woman who walked down the ramp with 
assurance.  "On behalf of the citizens of Mos Eisley, it is an honor to welcome 
you to Tatooine."

	Leia resisted a brush with laughter and merely smiled diplomatically.  
"Thank you, Mayor Barron.  Congratulations on winning the elections."

	Barron find himself smiling down at her, thoroughly charmed.  "Thank 
you, Your High.... Excellency."

	If she noticed his slip she made no sign.  He gave Ksing, who was 
standing at his elbow, a sharp look.  Ksing smiled unhelpfully.  Barron turned 
back to his guest.  "This way, Your Excellency," he said, gesturing toward a 
door.

	They stepped through, onto a wide street lined with the frosty, new 
buildings of a commercial, real estate boom.  Tatooine's suns, as primitive and 
unforgiving as ever, beat upon their unprotected heads, mocking in a moment 
this feeble attempt to civilize a wild desert.  Cordoned off to one side was 
crowd of seemingly respectable natives, clad in the bright colors of a festival.  
A gaggle of young people and children held gingerly to a rare and hideously 
expensive variety of local hothouse flowers.  It was obvious she was supposed 
to move off in this direction.  There was a low, greeting murmur.

	But, there was also a more raucous noise, like the light squabbling of 
seagulls over a garbage can on a hot and dirty beach.  The wheedling arose, 
angled up through the dusty, arid afternoon and sank again, banked.  It was not 
the sound in the first place but, rather, its sudden quiet that attracted Leia's 
attention.  She gazed over to find a crowd of filthy natives, unusually unanimous 
in disapproval.  They even carried signs written in crude basic.  She squinted 
into the sunlight.

	"What's this all about, Mayor?" she asked, her interest engaged.

	"Disaffection among the locals, as usual," Barron began easily, his 
voice justifying and defensive.

	She gave him a swift, calculating look.  "How so?"

	He sighed.  He had heard about Organa Solo but had never before really 
believed just how perceptive she could be.  One look into those dark eyes, 
however, dissuaded him from disbelief.  "They feel they're being discriminated 
against," he said after a mouth-working moment of silence.

	She gave  him an approving look. "Well, at least you told me the truth, 
Mayor.  Maybe you could let me have a look at their grievances.  Perhaps a 
more objective outlook can provoke a breakthrough."

	Barron smiled grimly and retreated before an ever present feeling that 
he was but an impostor.  "Actually, your assistance would be appreciated, Your 
Excellency."

	She merely nodded, signaled her entourage and together they moved 
lightly through the parting, curious and noisy crowd and into the brand new city 
hall for lunch and a ceremonial welcome.

************************
	Leia's stomach ached a little.  The time between lunch and now had not 
subdued whatever that spicy, mystery meat had been.  She decided in a fit of 
resignation that it was not really meant for royalty and diplomatic receptions.

	As it turned out, Barron had been only too willing to give the New 
Republic's Chief of State a complete rundown of Tatooine's problems.  The 
disaffected native problem, as she had suspected, topped the list.  As it turned 
out, many resented the heavy building that was taking place all over the planet. 

	Biggs Darklighter's family was at the heart of it, the name carrying 
almost as much cachet as that of Skywalker.  Biggs had been awarded the 
coveted and rarely bestowed Hero of the Rebellion medal after the long-ago 
battle over the first Death Star.  The fact that the award had been posthumous no 
longer made any difference.  And, once the grieving family had recovered from 
the death of their son, they found they had gold in their pockets.

	The Darklighter Foundation was busy building a resort about 100 
kilometers south and east of Mos Eisley.  A place for relaxation and 
rehabilitation, it also included a hospital dedicated to the Veterans of the 
Rebellion Against the Empire (VRAE), a canny, combination public relations 
ploy/goodwill gesture.  Some of the profits generated by the resort were to be 
used for the hospital's upkeep.  It was a state of the art facility.  The only 
problem had been that of enticing veterans to come to Tatooine in the first 
place.

	Other natives, however, were not so concerned about the hospital so 
much as with a second Darklighter project currently under construction just a 
little distance away from the reputedly haunted ruins of the Lars moisture farm.  
After all, the VRAE Hospital was in Tusken Raider territory.  Darklighter Ltd. 
had evidently made a secret agreement with the tribes who then surprised 
everyone by removing themselves with heretofore unsuspected aclarity.

	No, the problem was with the planned Jedi Skywalker Amusement Park.  
It was here that old landmarks were to be rebuilt in closely controlled 
conditions, along with hired hands to play various parts.  A widely attended 
audition had been held for several young Luke Skywalkers along with General 
Kenobis, youngish Han Solos and even versions of the Princess herself.  Even 
that, however, did not stir much controversy.  After all, it meant plenty of good-
paying jobs for local teens with a yen for the dramatic.  Not to mention all the 
other potential new-hires, from cleaning crews all the way to assistants and 
techs to operate and repair the machines that brought the special effects to life.

	It was the portrayal of the rest of Tatooine that got under everyone's 
robes.  For Darklighter, after a highly publicized and rather acrimonious 
meeting, had decreed natives off limits, even for the purpose of portraying 
themselves.  Darklighter maintained that their organization, as a gesture of 
goodwill, had given several jawas, down and out humans and even a relatively 
domesticated Tusken Raider or two, a chance at these potentially lucrative 
positions.  True to form, these bad apples had only ended up perpetrating such 
offenses as pilfering precious machinery and cable, engaging in hard bargaining 
with officials posing as tourists, and finally, engaging in an intimidating game 
dedicated to the "finding" and "claiming" of unattended articles.  The 
Darklighter Foundation, upon the advice of a very sharp legal department, 
immediately saw a public relations problem.  The Tatooine Native Consortium 
saw simple discrimination.

	This explanation had continued throughout most of lunch.  Leia, now 
standing blissfully alone in her quiet rooms, bowed her head in weariness and 
closed her eyes.  After all, the aforementioned didn't even count the various 
utility problems and setbacks that Mos Eisley had uncovered in its building 
boom.  And now it was rumored that the Tusken Raiders were dissatisfied with 
their new digs and wanted back into the hospital area.  It went on and on and 
Leia was only too glad to retreat into her assigned quarters.

	She knew they were all waiting outside her door, all bundled into a 
small conference room, only too willing to toil the day away with long 
discussions regarding the definition of this sentence and that phrase.  Willing to 
prove themselves diplomats over and over, both  the familiar Alderaanians and 
the invited natives of Tatooine, all awaited her with rising impatience.  Barron 
himself was there, his appetite for meetings and crossed words scarcely abated 
by skimming table talk over lunch.  The Alderaanians would prove rather 
distant and haughty while the natives of Tatooine would sit a little too far 
forward in a slightly vulgar and pushy fashion, seeing this small space of time 
as a career making moment.  All they had to do was call themselves to the Chief 
of State's attention, hopefully in some positive and enlightening way and the rest 
of their life was cake.  She dreaded the entire spectacle.

	Threepio's voice wafted through the door, shrill and almost worried.  
She wondered how a mechanical could seem so worried but then, that seemed 
to be one of Threepio's great gifts.  She dipped her head, ran her hand along her 
slightly frizzed hair and stepped toward the door.  Duty called.

	A couple of hours later, duty was only partially satisfied.  The scenario 
she had seen dozens of times before had come true before her unsurprised eyes.  
But for now it was over.  She grimaced and moved toward one of the large 
windows.  She was ensconced in a spanking new hotel, one of several high rise 
monstrosities along rebuilt Central Avenue. The room set her high up over the 
desert and below spread a gigantic, real life map of the new Mos Eisley, though 
at the moment it was mostly a crater of construction.  On the outskirts of town, 
though, she could just make out the familiar rounded construction of old 
Tatooine and her heart felt surprisingly glad for it.  She turned, sensing 
T'anonma a moment before the page entered.

	"I'm stepping out for a while, Your Excellency," T'anonma said with her 
usual sunny assurance.  "I was wondering if you'd care to join me."

	Leia cocked her head in surprise.  "Where're you headed?"

	T'anonma smiled.  "It'll be daylight for a couple of hours yet.  We've 
ordered up a speeder, maybe take in a few sights."

	"Does Barron know about this?"

	"Not unless you want him to."

	Leia moved away from the window, decision made.  "Let me change 
clothes," she said.  "I'll be ready in a few minutes."

	Ten minutes later Leia, T'anonma along with Ksing, who was playing 
pilot, were heading away from the gleaming center of Mos Eisley into the 
familiar crooked, overhung streets and the beginnings of the wasteland that was 
still the majority of Tatooine.  A high bluff encompassing a panoramic view 
was the first convenient place to stop.

	Ksing gave T'anonma a significant glance but let his eyes move swiftly 
past Leia. "I don't dare go out any further.  It's still dangerous out here at night." 
He gave his chrono a glance.  Leia noticed that it was of a model currently in 
fashion among young people on Coruscant.  She smiled wryly but felt suddenly 
old.

	"I agree," she put in quickly, realizing she may have stepped on a few 
toes.  Still, the desert called.  A wild, lonely voice evoked, more strongly than 
she expected, her perilous past.  She stepped out of the speeder.  "Thanks for 
bringing us out this far, Ksing," she continued, seeking to reassure the young 
people that she was not as obtuse as they imagined.  "Let me stay here a while 
and then you can take me back to my quarters."

	A delighted smile crossed Ksing's sunburned face.  T'anonma merely 
nodded and once again Leia found herself admiring the self-possession of the 
young page.  Steadily, her boots crunching over sand, she wandered to the edge  
of the small rise. A pitted plain greeted her gaze, kilometer upon kilometer of 
unexplored wilderness flattened out to the horizon and then vanished under 
pitiless suns, the line of sky obscured from land by flashing, metallic brightness.  
Even at the end of the day, just before sunset, it was breathtaking.  Although, it 
occurred to her that breathtaking is usually a word only tourists use.

	She stood, shadow lengthening behind her, on the only place her brother 
had ever really called home and gazed up at an awakening starfield just as he 
had throughout his childhood.  She turned westward into the suns which now 
intermingled themselves in tired confusion as they fell into dangerous night.  
Somewhere, in a ruin of ashes and desert scavengers it was all still there, the 
Lars farm picked over and abandoned, avoided as a haunted place, Kenobi's 
hut, now vanished into an ancient wilderness, Jabba's palace, crumbling stone 
by stone into the tracklessness all around.

	She was surrounded by the immensity of it, by the grandeur that was 
Luke's early life as warm wind whistled by, pulling at her loosed hair.  Her 
mind saw the canyons and gullies, the washes, the treacherous paths and 
hideouts of a willful, headstrong child.  She saw the gentleness that was his 
upbringing, despite restless, encroaching harshness.  She saw how Obi-wan had 
kept an eye on the reckless soul, knowing it for the changeling it was.  

	She knew her brother had been protected all those years, despite and 
because of Owen, despite the normal dangers and pitfalls of childhood, despite 
Tatooine itself.  Despite, even, Vader and the Emperor.

	But Obi-wan was now but a vanished spirit, a Jedi gone willingly into 
the unexplored reaches of the afterlife.  Her mind wandered like the 
approaching night breeze and she found herself thinking of all that had passed 
since the beginning.  She saw Han's face, frantic and cynical on the first Death 
Star.  And then later, frozen and dead in the shadows of a crumbling palace. 

	The past spread across her vision in the sort of clean outlines only 
reserved for children's stories. She saw Bail Organa, his cohorts within the 
Senate, her relatives and various members of her far flung family.  She had often 
wondered what they would all think of Han.  She grinned as a shooting star 
sprang quicksilver and bright over the darkening sky.

	Through memory, a draft surrounded her along with Luke's voice rising 
and falling through  the endless night.  She could hear the very words he used as 
he described how, just before he acquired Artoo, he had watched a flowering of 
shooting stars rise up over a pink horizon on hot Tatooine.  They had shivered 
together in grateful memory then, the bone deep cold of Hoth a constant 
companion.  She bowed her head, thinking.  He had seen Vader's ship shoot the 
Tantive to a crippled halt.  It was as if, in the midst of his responsibilities, his 
passions, his restlessness, he had caught an accidental flash of laser light 
through sunset and knew, indirectly, that childhood was over.

	A footstep crunched over the sand and a brisk breeze came up, pulling 
her hair away from her hand.  She turned.  "Your Excellency."  T'anonma's 
youthful face was soft and rounded within growing shadow.  The girl gestured 
with a small hand at the gloaming.  "It's time to go."

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

	Night settled over the desert, a quick, black cloak over the sky.  Its 
velvet folds were blacker than night in cold starlight, graceful but ominous, 
obliterating the sand and the crawling creatures underneath.  They sky was 
painted over with the faint richness of the galaxy, accessible only through 
hyperspace.  A calling creature yelped through blind, pitch darkness, snuffling 
and pawing in a fit of survival.  

	Quiet and still, a hunted animal, she listened to its approach.   She could 
feel its black yearnings as it followed brutal instinct, moving in cautious circles.  
A cold-edged satellite rose, casting shadowless light over tumbled rocks and 
scrub.  The breeze came up, whistling through the canyons and washes, deserted 
and stark in high relief.  A skeletal hand reached through the light.

	Bony fingers pushed through tattered, disintegrating leather, clicking and 
clattering within groping darkness.  The shadows moved, disorienting and quick 
as the fleshless hand hung over the dead asteroidscape.  The breeze stilled, the 
yelping predator choked silent, its call broken and jagged mid-howl among the 
rocks.  Still, the bones moved, a stalking death, unforgiving, relentless, 
shadowing  everything in their path.  She saw the chalky shadows disappear  
And then oppressive night smothered her, helpless and unmoving.  But instead 
of moldy cloth and the stink of decay, she found herself prisoner within an 
airless coffin of cold durasteel and prickling, spider-like technology.

	A buried moment spasmed quick, but strangely eternal, as she made one 
last, supreme effort to take a breath, to call out. The cloak moved and through a 
ragged edge, soft with dusty age, she was able to just make out a high, rock 
ridge above her, poised like ancient teeth under uncaring stars.  A moment of 
pure fright seized her and with a cry she sat straight up in bed. 

	Half awake, in panic, she jumped onto the floor, almost falling as her 
sweat-soaked bedclothes fell away.  Her knees almost gave way, but at the last 
second she found the will to  make them straight and only stumbled slightly as 
she stepped through the dim room, toward the window. She recoiled from the 
starlight as her mind painted a fleshless hand in the sky, but no, there were only 
ordinary stars along with some sort of colorful, blinking sign across the 
construction pitted street.  Holding perfectly still, in the moment of true 
awakening, she could only gaze at it.

	The street was deserted, except for a  guard or two here and there, 
wandering in strict patterns through the yet to be built environs of New Mos 
Eisley.  Watching, knowing that their graceful, precise movement was 
disguised, artful carelessness, she felt reassured.

	A movement at the door caused her to look back.  "Your Excellency, are 
you alright?"  T'anonma was there, along with Threepio.

	"We heard you cry out," Threepio added, pulling his head to one side in 
a robotic version of puzzlement.  "We thought, perhaps, we should investigate."  
Several curious sleepy faces flashed gazes behind him, eyes wide but still 
glazed with the deep sleep of youth.  

	Leia suddenly felt a little sheepish.  She attempted a laugh but her voice 
choked.  She smiled instead and let a practiced warmth steal into her voice.  
"I'm fine, Threepio, T'anonma.  Just a bad dream, that's all.  I'll just wash my 
face and go back to bed."

	T'anonma's dark eyes radiated concern. "Are you thirsty?  Perhaps you'd 
like something warm to drink."

	Leia closed her eyes, the suggestion catching her unawares.  "Yes, thank 
you, T'anonma.  That would be wonderful."

	And so it was about fifteen minutes later, face washed and clean 
sleeping garment retrieved from her small bag, she was sitting in front of  the 
starfield framed by the bland, hotel room window, a cup of something warm and 
soothing in her hand.  Threepio had, again, powered down for the evening and 
T'anonma had yawned her way back to bed.  Leia grinned.  Perhaps the girl was 
force-sensitive.  Maybe she should be at the Academy, rather than serving in the 
Senate.  The smile faded.

	She had had this dream before, long before any of this ever happened, 
long before the New Republic existed.  These dreams of haunting death began 
shortly after her release from Vader and his torture chambers.  She had dreams 
of saving Alderaan, of course, but these were much easier to identify and over 
the years she had learned to deal with them.  This nightmare, though, had 
vanished right after the battle of Endor.  Its sudden reappearance was deeply 
troubling.

	She shivered and glanced around for a wrap.  The nearest thing was a 
soft white blanket held in the quietness of a night shrouded corner. Rising, 
moving carefully so as not to disturb her keepers listening watchfully outside 
her door, she moved to retrieve it.  The silken blanket shimmered, a ghostly 
gash against shadowed night.  She pulled it around her shoulders.  Quietly, with 
great deliberation, she sat down again facing the eternal, unchanging starfield.

	She gazed at the stars, her soul held within crippling darkness and 
haunting memory.  Of all the New Republic's highly placed representatives, she 
reflected that she was probably the one with the largest axe to grind when it 
came to dealing with the Empire and its minions.  Sitting in the dark, her hands 
curled around the hotel-issue cup, she realized in one falling thought, that 
coming here, herself, had been a mistake.

	But she had come too far to turn back now.  Momentarily, she thought of 
Lepnatos' advice.  Momentarily, her only desire was to take it and return to 
Coruscant.  For even as she sat, shrouded in her pure white blanket, a damning 
stain moved across her soul, the stain of heartbreak and old wounds that refused 
to heal.  She could feel the old sickness within her, the black obliteration where 
dreams had been.

	He had done to this to her, his own daughter, his child, the flesh and 
blood product of a long-ago passion.  He had given her these irreversible 
wounds.  He had planted terrible recurring visions in her head, some of which 
Luke had managed to eradicate as his power had grown over the years.  But 
some of these shameful visions were so disturbing, so bone chilling that she 
could not admit them even to Luke and, there were times, especially under pressure, when she found herself alone with them.

	Hard but comforting experience had taught her that the best thing to do 
was to sit and wait it out.  That the nightmares and afterfeelings of tingling stain 
would fade as the hours of the night became inevitable, welcoming daylight.

	This was how the suns found her as they rose to pour hot, honeyed light 
through the uncurtained window.  She was curled, finally asleep under the 
silken wrap, cup cold on the floor, a child protected and held against all harm 
within the arms of the uncomfortable chair.

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

	The Imperial Delegation was sequestered in the same hotel as the Chief 
of State, which had been cleared for the occasion.  The owner hadn't been to 
happy but Mayor Barron had promised to make it up to him.  Denizens of the 
galactic press occupied a good portion of the first two floors of rooms, their 
communications equipment taking more space than themselves.  Blockades and 
checkpoints appeared 50 meters away from the building in both directions along 
Central Avenue, sending mid-town Mos Eisley into gridlock.  Vociferous 
complaints in several languages fell on deaf ears.  The stage was set.

	Leia could see the beginnings of another in a series of interminable, 
heated arguments on the street below.  She turned away from the window, 
nodding to T'anonma and Threepio.  The inevitable entourage, as if held behind 
an invisible rope, waited, smoothing its clothes, running its fingers nervously 
through its collective hair, shifting its collective weight.  Her chrono showed 
the right time.

	They followed her out of the suite.  At the last moment she wondered if 
it would not be better for them to remain by themselves, within their quarters, 
during the actual negotiations.  Otdjel had been adamant that only she and, 
perhaps, one other sentient being be allowed to meet with its representatives.  
Assuming, of course, that there was more than one representative.

	Minutes later she appeared in the proper corridor, almost alone, 
subdued but exhuding power.  The entourage had been deposited an appropriate 
waiting room.  Her hair was neatly braided in the style of vanished Alderaan 
and her upbringing as royalty swept all away from her path as she moved  She 
halted at  the designated conference room even as the guard recognized her and 
opened the large door.

	The room was an oblong shape, its centerpiece a spacious, sandstone 
table of the very same sort as her own desk on Coruscant.  Her gaze moved past 
it, past jawa and Tusken artifacts hanging artistic if unlikely on the adobe white 
walls, past the ubiquitous control and communications board, to the front of the 
room.  There, already seated with expressions that meant business, were two 
people, a man and a woman. The man was older, with gray hair and a stately 
visage.  His bearing and demeanor bespoke years and high rank in the old 
Imperial military.

	The woman was dark, rather severe, her hair braided too tightly.  She 
wore a military jumpsuit of  some sort, plain but clean.  Neither wore any 
insignia or badge.  She held a data pad.

	Leia nodded and smiled.  Threepio and T'anonma followed, both 
intimidated into silence.  If the holos were accurate, each knew exactly who 
Otdjel had sent as representatives.

	"Admiral Pallaeon," Leia said, her voice taking on its habitual formal 
tone.  "I don't believe we've ever met.  I am Leia Organa Solo."

	Pallaeon's face was schooled.  "I am honored to meet you, Princess," he 
replied, nodding to her in a formal but forbidding way.  "May I present my 
assistant, Jelila Daala?"

	Leia gasped, unprepared for how the name sounded within the placating 
room.  "I remember....." she began before she actually remembered and stopped 
herself.  "Honored to meet you, Admiral Daala," she finished haughty, a credit 
to her upbringing.  Daala merely nodded and did not bother to correct the 
former princess.  To cover a certain disconcerting, stammering feeling, Leia 
introduced T'anonma and Threepio to bored, flickering stares.

	Leia drew breath and willed peace.  A feeling of serenity settled quickly 
over her soul as she gathered herself in readiness for the upcoming fight.  
Pallaeon's eyes flickered.

	"Are you feeling well, Princess?"  he asked, as if this were an everyday 
question.

	She kept irony at bay and held a straight face.  "Certainly, Admiral," she 
replied using his formal title.  "But there is not need to call me princess.  I am 
Chief of State now."

	He nodded and she was a little surprised when he backed down.  
"Certainly, Your Excellency.  Old habits are hard to break," he finished, 
smiling.

	Momentarily she wondered how such a dignified, civilized man could 
have done so much harm to her and her own.  She pulled away from the 
uncomfortable thought and took a seat.  Threepio stepped away, retreating into 
robotic stillness.  T'anonma sat as well,  unobtrusive but observant.

	Leia let her gaze fall over the two in front of her.  "I trust you have been 
treated well here?" she asked, hoping to disarm them a little.

	Pallaeon spoke.  "We've received fair treatment, Your Excellency," he 
replied, frosty and proper.  "We expected no less."  Pallaeon turned to Daala.  
"Jelila?" he asked, a cue.

	The woman did not reply, merely handed him the data pad.  He set it 
carefully on the table.  "Regarding the negotiations," he began without undue 
ceremony, "I've been authorized by Otdjel to discuss not only trade issues but 
also to initiate discussions regarding adjunct membership within the Senate."

	Leia did not let her mouth drop open although she did turn her head a 
little too quickly.  She switched her position in the chair.  "I'm not sure I 
understand you, Admiral," she said with a voice willed to complete serenity.

	He gave her a piercing look and she began to understand why he had 
lasted so long, both in the Imperial Navy and outside it.  "Otdjel has decided," 
he began, taking a breath, "to seek membership within the New Republic."  His 
eyes took on a steely glint and his voice was toneless, as if he were reading 
from an ancient, historical epic.  "Most of our leaders are dead. We have no 
economy to speak of.  The Emperor's cloning facilities have been destroyed.  
Our populations have made it known that they desire something better."

	Leia merely looked at him for a moment, absorbing the gray face, the 
lines etched by authority and cautious plotting.  "Are you saying that  the last 
remnants of the Empire wish to join us?"

	He seemed to swallow hard but his face never changed.  "Yes," he 
replied suddenly simple and straightforward.

	She stood.  "If you'll pardon me, Admiral, I must inquire as to why.  
This change of  heart is most unexpected."

	He gave Daala an oblique glance but his expression was carved stone.  
"Our people need stability, Your Excellency.  Despite our best efforts," he said, 
surprising her with a casual confession, "they have access to information from 
the New Republic.  They see the growing prosperity of systems which have 
become members, their growing vitality.  There is a strong desire to stop the 
conflict."

	Leia sat down again and her face was flushed.  "I can't believe you said 
that, Admiral," she said, her voice as toneless as his.  "You have the ner..... 
courage to apply for membership along with many of the very people you 
enslaved only a decade ago?  This leaves us with many major problems." 

	"Such as?" he asked, as if he really did not know.

	Her face changed, her eyes reached for him, lancing into his.  A small 
spasm of anger flew through the room.  "Such as, what to do about war 
criminals -- primarily the creators of the two Death Stars, not to mention the 
guiding members of the Maw Installation and the designers of the Sun Crusher."  
Her voice became low and positively gaunt.  "And, you realize that we will 
expect a drawdown of all military installations, particularly those along our 
borders."  She took a breath, as if the words were brand new and she had never 
spoken them before.  "We'll need an accurate audit of all armaments and their 
placement, not to mention negotiations regarding their destruction."  She gave 
him a calculating a look, as if she were willing him to resist. "Is this really what 
Otdjel really wants?"

	"Are you refusing to negotiate with us?"

	A full five seconds of silence overtook the room.  Her eyes played over 
the two implacable enemies sitting so still before her, one an aging, elegant 
man, dangerous as a poisonous spider.  The other a snake, dark and treacherous, 
lying in wait.  She lifted her head.  The feeling of being wrong, of making a 
mistake pounded within her. Her cheeks flushed.

	"Certainly not, Admiral.  You mistake me.  I merely want to know how 
we're going to resolve certain issues between us."

	"Such as?" he repeated, his question leading but his manner perfectly 
innocent, an old man unjustly accused.

	Agitated, Leia stood again and walked around the chair, her hands 
suddenly trembling.  A black roaring filled her hearing so that he own voice 
sounded faint and distant.  The words were swift. "You are asking a great deal 
from us, Admiral," she said her voice now blunt and low.  "Without so much as 
a petition of forgiveness you want membership..... just like that."  She lifted her 
chin. "Otdjel has never made any indication that it would be willing to bring  
known war criminals to justice. You have never apologized for, nor even 
acknowledged," her voice angled through the room, echoing off the adobe 
walls, pushing at the immobile art, "the death of entire worlds, of Honoghr, of 
Alder...." Her voice broke and quieted into an agonized whisper as she uttered 
the name of her beloved home planet.  It fell away, a fading memory within the 
muted acoustics of the elegant room.

	A moment of unabashed silence ensued as the two Imperials only gazed 
at her.  "Are you sure you're feeling well, Princess?" Pallaeon slipped back into 
the old usage, perhaps on purpose.  But his voice was so smooth and subtle it 
was hard to fault him.

	She turned back to them, visibly agitated. "I'm feeling fine, Admiral," 
she snapped.  The Imperials drew back, chagrined.  Leia's face contorted as she 
fought unsuccessfully for control.  Her voice ricocheted around the room, 
deadly blaster fire in close quarters.  "It must be answered for, all the crimes, 
all the deaths, all the needless pain."  She gave Pallaeon a mental shove which 
he felt physically, in his chair, meters away from her. "You plotted and built 
two Death Stars,  you attempted to kidnap me and my children, you attempted to 
kill my husband.  You masterminded the creation of thousands of clones using 
outlawed technology."  A pause sounded and  an abyss opened up in the blink of 
an eye at her feet. 

	"And you ......." she sent Daala a hard glance, almost pushing the 
unprepared woman back into the wall, "you tried to kill my brother and destroy 
the Academy.  You almost killed his....."

	Despite being cornered Daala smiled, a warrior's hopeless expression. 
"I thought I had, Your Excellency," she interrupted, a hissing silence in the 
middle of a horrible tirade.  "The Jedi woman should have died long ago....."

	The fact that Leia was of exactly the same opinion made no difference.  
Instantly Daala's voice stopped, so suddenly that Pallaeon glanced involuntarily 
at his cohort.  He saw only a gap-mouthed expression reminiscent of an ancient, 
savage method of execution known as hanging.  A fleeting instant gave him an 
old memory, of the Lord Vader standing in murderous silence to the half-heard 
throes of death. "Your Excellency," he began, seeking to break the spell.  "This 
is pointless.  We are speaking now of the beginnings of negotiations, of suing 
for peace....."

	"You both deserve to die, Pallaeon," Leia replied, her words inevitable 
and cold, slashing through his reasonable objections.  "We should have killed 
you long ago."  And, as she spoke these words it seemed to him that all light 
retreated to the width and depth of a vanishing pinhole.  A slight gasping sound 
issued form the woman next to him and he felt his throat muscles constrict in 
sudden, black discomfort.  A deathlike silence filled the room.

	Something within Leia rose up, something long denied, deprivation 
howled in  her ears.  A wind seemed to rise and her dress, now strangely 
shadowed, billowed back behind her.  The haunting voices of Alderaan, ghost-
like over vast distance and the timelessness of  death, rose up as one within her, 
feeding her passion.

	Leia willed the movement gone and her composure disappeared with it.  
Despite years of Jedi training and indoctrination her sense seemed to careen, 
tilting and uncontrollable.  She opened her eyes to see Pallaeon sitting, pale, a 
limp trembling hand on his collar.  Daala, on the other hand, glared daggers at 
her, hatred a shining armor over plain features.  Pallaeon, with an old soldier's 
control,  moved weakly to gather the data pad from the table.

	Daala, watching his hand move and taking courage from that simple, 
ordinary gesture, put a hand back to her braids and smiled, an evil, knowing 
smile.  Leia, watching them as if through someone else's eyes saw, all in one 
horrible, revealing moment how they had killed or maimed millions.  How they 
had been partially responsible for the war that should have died at Endor.   She 
thought of the savage repressions at Honoghr, on Kashyyyk, on Myrkr and even 
Wayland.    And now the woman had the nerve to smile.

	Leia gazed into the smug face and saw, all in one swooping vision, that 
there had never been any intention of abiding by any treaty.  The cold voice of 
the Force told her they where stalling, buying time, diverting attention.  But from 
what?

	The black rage rose, the skeletal fingers clicked and jangled. She knew 
all she had to do was think the thought, all she had to do was picture them dead 
in her mind and two of the most formidable enemies of her family and her 
government would finally be destroyed.  A whispering, seductive voice chanted 
in the back of her mind, insisting that there would never be another, better 
chance to eliminate two of the most dangerous people in  the galaxy.

	Her old fighting spirit welled up.  Her hands clenched and reached, 
searching for a weapon.  She called her lightsaber and it appeared within her 
grip, placed there by a dark, invisible power.  She activated it.  Pallaeon and 
Daala stopped mid-motion as the shimmering blade flooded their vision.  An 
avenging angel, Leia seemed to grow, enshrouding the entire room in vengeful 
darkness.

	Pallaeon, startled out of motionlessness, half rose, a questioning look on 
his face.  Daala gave the energy blade a panicked glance and made a small 
movement as if to dive under the protective, sandstone table.

	Leia strode forward, the blade were leading her.  A chorus of voices 
sounded faintly above her blocked hearing, pleading words drowned within 
blood oceans of hatred.  She willed them away.  She knew what she had to do.  
For the sake of government, for the sake of her family, for Luke......

	"Your Excellency?! Your Excellency........  Leia!" An insistent voice 
faded through her consciousness, refusing her blockade.  The stale air and the 
smell of blood retreated.  Leia glanced around, pulling back from battle stance.  
Daala was motionless, mesmerized by the blade, but Pallaeon swallowed and 
gazed in the direction of the voice.

	Leia found T'anonma standing directly at her right arm.  Quietly, with an 
assurance that bodes no questions and gives no time for thought, she laid a small 
hand on Leia's forearm.  Leia glanced down at it while the moment resolved 
itself. A pallid light shone through her mind, hesitant sunlight after thick, gray 
clouds.  The saber hissed and was silent.  The room sat silent with chagrin, fear 
and flashing hatred.  Leia's eyes were masked.

	"I must apologize," she began even as the blackness began again to 
course through her heart.  She turned away from the couple in front of her, still 
somehow a frightening combination of regality and malice.  "I believe we've all 
made a mistake here."  She hesitated and turned away from them, her voice 
suddenly muffled.  "I realize now I should have sent someone else, as should 
have," she glanced over at her audience, "Otdjel.   These negotiations must 
begin again, but we should not be direct participants."  She lifted her head, 
decision made.  "We are at an impasse.  My government will contact Otdjel."

	For an eternal moment, Pallaeon looked as if he were going to object.  
Then he stood and retrieved the data pad.  An oblique smile graced his 
dignified face.  "Perhaps, you are correct, Your Excellency.  Otdjel will await 
your communication."  His composure, the composure of the truly 
consciousless, had now returned.  He signaled in a deft but brutal way to Daala 
who stumbled as she found her feet.  Nodding to Leia with an almost sarcastic, 
disrespectful cast, he left the room pulling Daala out behind him.

	An errant member of the  press had taken an unseen position outside the 
prematurely opened door.  As soon as Pallaeon appeared the man relinquished 
all attempts at secrecy, immediately trailing the Imperials around a corner, cam 
waving, questions spewing.  A major breach in security occurred as other 
reporters appeared, their noise and haste spoiling elegant surroundings with the 
flotsam of real life.

	Ksing bestirred himself from his watchful post and moved to intercept, 
resigned and dutiful.  This did not appear to be going well at all.

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

	Twenty four standard hours later, Leia commandeered the speeder 
herself.  Over stringent objections from Threepio, Ksing and T'anonma, she 
made her way out into the streets, into a crowd of irritated traffic, onto the 
poverty stricken back streets, and, finally, out into the desert.  A squad of 
security people followed at a discreet distance, disturbed but resigned.  Leia 
Organa Solo had given a direct order.  And, in her present black mood, no one 
dared disobey.

	A pitiful beggar on the outskirts of Mos Eisley pointed a gnarled finger 
when she asked directions, too worn by sun and exhaustion to question why a 
well-to-do woman with a fidgety entourage would wish to visit such a deserted 
and ghost-ridden place.  The beggar only shook her rag covered head, flashed a 
contemptuous look and returned to the serious business of survival.  She'd seen 
a lot of them come and go.  She figured she'd outlast this one, too.

	Leia made only a few wrong turnings in the trackless wilderness which 
rose before her fragile craft like an encircling predator.  It was as if Mos 
Eisley's grand buildings did not exist and the narrow, flying dreams of its 
politicians were nothing but settling dust and debris after an eternity of 
existence.  Now, there was only what there had always been and she flew over 
it, not so secure in her small vessel.

	Making a sudden turn, she slipped through the outpost of Anchorhead, 
barely able to make out the sand beaten sign. She grinned.  A few curious faces 
glanced at her as she slowed through the narrow streets.  The entourage 
followed at a fair distance, unwilling to risk another tongue lashing.  Gazing 
around she found a likely candidate and idled the speeder.  The young man 
moved with confidence, dressed in desert whites, macrobinocs slung carelessly 
around his neck.  He smiled at her, a flash of bright teeth.

	"You lost, ma'am?" he inquired, polite but rough around the edges  A 
quick look took in another brand new speeder, gleaming and crowded, several 
meters behind her.

	"I don't think so," she replied, suddenly feeling shy.  "I'm looking for the 
old Lars place."

	He gave her sentence serious, perturbed thought and then spoke.  "It's 
been deserted for years, ma'am.  Master Skywalker hasn't visited in, I'd say,  
about three years, maybe even five.  It's hard to remember."

	"I didn't say I wanted to see Master Skywalker.  I said I wanted to see 
the Lars place."

	"It's nothing but sand, ma'am," came the implacable reply.

	"I don't care," she rejoined, with even greater implacability.

	He shrugged.  "Just don't say I didn't warn you." He turned and pointed 
into the westward sun.  "About two kilometers that way.  You can't miss it....."  
He stopped, grinning.  "Sorry, I guess you can.  There is a marker.  Somebody 
got real annoyed and put up a few signs a while back.  Too many tourists these 
days."

	She grinned.  "Are they ever disappointed?"

	"All the time, ma'am," he replied with a straight face.

	"Okay, well.... uh, thanks," she said, gunning the engine.

	"No problem," he replied, giving her a flash of teeth again.  "By the 
way, if you want to visit the hermit's place, you'll need a guide.   I'd be happy to 
take you out there."

	She shook her head.   "No, that won't be necessary," she replied.  
"You've been more than enough help."

	"Anytime, ma'am."  The speeder, held in a tight, delusionary cocoon of 
modernity, moved away.  Followed by its gleaming, nervous shadow, it nosed 
carefully out into the street.  He watched it go, motionless and unintimidated by 
the foibles of offworlders.

	Sure enough, the place was just where he said it was.  The identifying 
sign looked relatively new, but it was beat up all the same.  She grinned at it, 
thinking how strange that she had come here on her own.  Then the expression 
faded.  What was she trying to find?

	The speeder glided to a stop and she switched it off, the engine fading 
instantly into perfect silence.  She signaled her shadow to say put outside of 
hearing distance.  Another grin noted a cloudlike disturbance falling over 
handsome faces.  She ignored it.

	She gazed around.  There was nothing but flat plain, a featureless, 
moonrock landscape.  If there had been no warmth or air, she would have 
guessed she was on an isolated asteroid somewhere.  As it was....

	She took another look, her gaze traveling in a careful circle.  Nothing.  
Only a nondescript spot where someone had placed grave markers that had 
since disintegrated.  Their chintzy replacements were flimsy, metallic things 
now lying on the sand.  A shallow indentation in the ground showed where the 
Lars family compound had been, although the stone and adobe had vanished 
long ago.  A savage call made her swing her head  nervously to check the 
speeder.  But all was still.  Even the breeze had died.

	Her boots crunched as she strode in circles.  What was she looking for?  
All that met her eyes was featureless landscape, a windswept place of haunted, 
childhood dreams that had, against all probabilities, come true  She came to 
stand over what she surmised had been the entrance to the house.  A jagged edge 
ragged its way through the grit and scrub, a white reminder of the rounded 
building it had belonged to, a lifetime ago.  She squinted.

	She lifted her eyes and suddenly wished Luke there, to tell her what had 
been here and over there, pointing out mundane things from the backwaters of 
memory.  To gesture in the general direction of Beggar's Canyon, to grin and tell 
her how he used to take the back way to Anchorhead via a treacherous and 
forbidden shortcut.  A sudden reflection made her realize that she had never 
really visited his home before.  She gazed around but she was without guidance, 
for there was nothing for her imagination to hold onto now, only bare desert 
floor, deserted and dangerous.  She simply stood, not knowing what to do, how 
to feel.  Finally in a fit of confusion, she closed her eyes.

	A long time passed.  After a while she thought she could hear voices, the 
palest of voices, stilled, hanging and temperate in the untoward wilderness.  
There were words there, amongst the stillness, but they were lost in the breeze.  
She opened her eyes to find that all had changed.

	Instead of a drifting plain, she was standing at the entrance of a white 
compound, rounded and low to the ground.  An old fashioned defensive fence 
surrounded it, reminding her sharply of childhood.  But there was no time to 
think about this because she could just see, in the distance, a man in the prime of 
life walking swiftly up from the white horizon, a bundle in his arms.

	She squinted, giving the bundle a hard look.  It didn't look inanimate so 
much as .... yes she could hear the sound of a baby crying.  He continued to 
approach, never acknowledging her presence, giving the bundle in his arms an 
affectionate look now and again.  He arrived at the door, but before he could 
ring the entry bell, the door was open and a young man with hard, judgmental 
features stood there, a bleak illustration of one who held no joy whatsoever in 
his soul.   He stood as if had waited in long expectation for the other.

	The man with the bundle said nothing, only stepped over the threshold.  
But when Leia moved to follow a hard voice shoved her away, physical and 
violent.  She sprawled in surprise across the sand, scraping her arm with the 
still detachment of dreams, feeling nothing.  She pulled herself to her feet 
brushing at her gritty clothes.

	"What must I do to enter?" she asked the keeper of the place.

	"It is not for you, " the voice answered.  "You have many things yet to do 
before you enter this place."

	A feeling swept her, one of desire and pure, sweet happiness flooded 
her heart. The back of her neck prickled and her hair seemed to stand on end.  
She pushed a nervous hand along it, surprised that it was flat against her head.

	"What must I do?" she repeated, as if she knew what the voice was 
talking about.

	"Make peace," the voice said, fading into the breeze.  And as the words 
faded she opened her eyes and saw the desert intact all around, the grave 
markers clear within her light of sight, pulling her gaze straight up into the sky.  
She sat up in the place where she had fallen, afraid but exhilarated.

	Racing heartbeat seized her as she saw only wilderness from a 
vulnerable sitting position.  Another savage call echoed down the plain and a 
mottling of whispy clouds cluttered the horizon.  Out of the corner of her eye she 
saw her security detail clamoring away from the floating speeder, panicked, 
reaching for concealed weapons. It was then that she realized that she had 
collapsed on top of the graves, and was sitting alongside the vanished remains 
of Beru and Owen Lars.  The grave markers were as they had been before; 
fallen, half buried in sand.

	She stood, signaled an all clear and dusted herself off.  So Obi-wan, that 
wizard, had come all the way back from the afterlife to give her the news.  This 
was her purpose, her mission now.  All the other was behind her, all the hurt, 
the pain, the anger, the wars, the conspiracies.  Nothing else mattered.  And he 
had brought Luke with him, pristine, a child.  Almost as if the baby were a 
sacrifice.  A shiver ran through her.  Is that what the vision meant?   That Luke 
would have to be sacrificed to make peace?

	Sometimes, she reflected as she waved off the anxious escort for the 
second time, hindsight could be very uncomfortable.  She had the benefit, the 
luxury even, of hindsight now.  Hindsight and faith.  And that same faith guided 
her still.

	Now her and her brother's places were reversed.  Luke had stood here, 
on this very spot while she was fleeing Imperial power, a twig just beyond the 
reach of a mighty ocean wave.  He had come to her and Han's rescue on Bespin.  
He and interrupted his training, thrown away precious time so that he could 
effect Han's and her rescue on from Jabba's Palace.  His very knighthood was 
imperiled, for time spent so carelessly, even for the sake of loyalty, would 
never be reclaimed.

	Master Yoda's life ended soon thereafter and so had her brother's 
instruction.  He had defeated the Emperor and turned Vader on nothing more 
than a prayer, a great intuitive knowledge of the Force and, perhaps, love.  It 
was all he had ever had.  With it he had saved the Rebellion. Now it was time 
for the remnants of the Rebellion to save him.

	No, Obi-wan did not sacrifice her brother in those dark days that had 
come before and she could not believe he would do so now.  He had not made 
so arduous a journey merely to tell her Luke was going to die.  No, her heart, the  
heart of a champion, holding to hope and optimism even in times of 
overwhelming darkness, told her in its unerring fashion that her brother was 
going to live.  But now he was helpless, now he was the fragile twig tossed on 
the froth of the soul destroying wave.  It was up to her, and others, to give him 
aid.

	And in helping him, together, they would guide the galaxy into a new 
day.

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

 Hyperspace


	Stars, tangled and webbed, ran across the reachless sky like a knotted 
necklaces in a pirate's hidden treasurebox.  The light, so dusty and faint from the 
Rim, was now cold and brilliant.  Luke hit a bank of switches and watched as 
the navicomp took over.  A sequence indicated when *Jade's Fire* would jump 
out of hyperspace.  According to the computer, he had time yet.  Tired, he 
rubbed a hand across his stubbled face and wondered if he should clean up. 

	He had begun to rise from his seat when an impenetrable curtain  fell 
over his consciousness as neatly as sunset becomes night in the desert.  His 
head dropped to one side, limp,  his hands fell away from the console and his 
breathing slackened.  In a flickering moment he was in a deep trance.  

	The ancient starlight, imbedded within time and distance, merely beheld 
the fragile craft, lost within the reaches of the Core of the galaxy, traveling with 
the spirit-like certainty.  No one watching would have guessed it was but a 
ghost ship, the hand of its desperate pilot lashed to the wheel.   Luke's 
consciousness made one last, useless effort and then fell away, darkness 
inundating his mind under waves of ominous water.  

	He found himself walking through flickering dreams, through the 
everlasting night that is space travel, through the graveyards of his deserted 
past.  For a moment he was in a void, only  voices surrounding him in the 
vacuum of time.  He caught flashes of color and light here and there but he could 
identify none of it.  It was as if he were eavesdropping on the dreams of 
another.   

	He turned to see Owen, in the middle of a familiar tongue lashing as a 
lost day lingered on Tatooine.  A quick affection filled his now grownup heart 
as the man's not so old face paused and grinned.  A quick image of Ben filled 
his vision, momentarily moving through a shaft of sunlight.  The hermit seemed 
to be traveling, perhaps he was holding something.  The light filtered, sharp 
within his robes, setting off each dusty fold into a statue-like preciseness.  Then 
the two men retreated and he saw only familiar desert.  After a time he found he 
was standing in the kitchen, watching Beru cook, the shadows long and low and, 
then, he was outside again.  Biggs was there, laughing at some old joke, his 
speeder washing through the sand.  

	The visions vanished and he turned to found only the searing heat of 
flames and noxious gasses, his hands burned by his repeated attempts to enter a 
ruined compound.  A hot wind came off the fire, mirroring burning grief and 
jagged anger. He stumbled away, and the void returned.

	Han's face appeared, shouting down an antiseptic corridor, blaster in 
hand.  The smuggler's face turned away and then back again, as if urging him on.  
He made a move to follow but instantly the colors, shot through with sound, 
faded.

	Darkness appeared again as a small sound came to his ears, a file 
rasping against well-used wood.   He turned to see Leia, an angel in a formal, 
white gown, standing still and defiant, her child's face turned toward a horrible 
vision in black.   The rasping sound became clearer and he realized he was 
hearing the respirator pushing the oxygen through his father's damaged lungs.  A 
masked face turned toward him, seemed, for an awful moment,  to see him but 
then fell away. 

	Luke moved to shout, to call the monster away from his sister but they 
were swallowed up by the restless curtain of someone else's dreams.  His 
mechanical hand reached but he clutched only at the void. The invisible path 
beckoned.  

	A forest, green and gloomy rose up through the night.  A screaming cry 
arched over his head and lashing pain fell along his shoulders.  A woman, 
standing nearby, caught a ferocious animal with a perfectly aimed blaster.  His 
grateful words were cut off sharply by her exasperated malevolence as the 
scene faded.  

	A smoky, odiferous corridor greeted his gaze, the low light on top of a 
staff casting an eerie glow into great corner shadows.  There was the evil 
hissing of damaged electronics all around.  Threepio's golden skin glinted 
above him and  he knew he was prone, on a damaged repulsor unit.  He moved 
to rise, and Threepio looked back, lit  eyes weird in encroaching darkness.

	And then a clipped voice, its essence held in the dark atmosphere, was 
everywhere, laughing at some joke, murmuring caught words into his 
consciousness, moving a small current of air past his injured face.  A light 
floating joy reigned within his scarred heart.

	Daylight again.  A jungle twisting and turning in the mists of dancing 
rainbows and sunlight greeted his frantic eyes.  He turned to watch the 
westward sky, away from insistent dawn, up to where *she* was, where she 
had to be.  The temple flowed out from under him, melting into a living canopy 
of creatures that fed the Force with their vitality and strength.  But the sky turned 
pale and blue, a sun rose hot and unbearable and he knew she was gone.   He 
dropped to his knees but the jungle faded and instead he was faced with the 
void, all alone. 

	He continued to walk, his footsteps soundless, unheard in the world of 
vision and dreams.  He caught a glimpse of Leia again, talking to her children, 
kissing Han, her  serious face shadowed in the cold light of some meeting room.  
In a quick movement, he saw Mara Jade stand and move across a room, hands 
flashing, eyes downward.  

	But no, Mara's face was hurt and angry. Large trees waving in an 
inviting breeze that shadowed the hand moving to slap him across the face.  He 
flinched but did not feel it.  She retreated into a silent gloom.  The pain of her 
leaving drove a knife into his being, as if part of him were cut away.  But, no, 
there was still a chance.  There she was again, under the cold, work lights of an 
immaculate hangar.    

	He stopped, the jumbled visions suddenly causing pain.  Why was there 
pain?  What was he trying to find?   He opened his mouth to speak, to shout, to 
yell.  He reached out a hand as Mara's figure began to waver.  A panicked 
feeling seized him and helpless he ran  toward it.  His voice unheard, he found 
he couldn't breathe.   His heart began to pound as the nearer he got, the more she 
retreated.  Her features blurred to  indistinguishable.  

	Finally, in a killing moment, she turned away and disappeared into 
molten darkness. It swallowed her whole and he, in sudden despair stumbled, 
falling into a limitless abyss.  He opened his mouth one last time, with one last 
breath he shouted but no words were there, no sound disturbed the perfect, 
muffled silence of the void.

	He awoke to a stranger's deathbed voice, harsh and whispered.  "Mara 
...... don't leave.... no.... Mara!"  His hands reached reflexively for the console 
as he jerked into consciousness, pulled there by sharp light and unbearable 
awareness.  A cramped feeling made him stand, momentarily panicked.   He 
held motionless.  Before him, all had changed.

	Instead of the wrinkles of hyperspace, he was staring at a spacedock, 
gray and drifting.  He jerked as he felt a tractor beam take hold.  A quick glance 
told him the ship's engines were off line and the computer pinged as the beam  
strengthened, a warning.  His knees sank from beneath him and he sat, hands 
now useless on the console.  But, unless he wanted to leave violently, he knew 
there was no turning back now.

	He leaned back into the chair letting the Force flow through him.  It 
flooded his being, dark and obsessive, the stars an offense to it as it engulfed his 
heart.  And within, as if from a short distance there was a voice.  It was a soft 
voice, low and clipped, the distinctive accent of Chad knifing through his mind.  
It called to consciousness an abiding, nursed love, his true love, the being who 
held his heart.  He smiled and the words smiled back approvingly.

	The ship swung around, gently arcing through a small, docking 
trajectory.  The sky tilted and winked and then the ship slipped through the 
magnetic lock which  sprang to life behind it, a cage door slamming shut.  He 
felt the ship stop, hover and finally fall gently to the deck, a flawless procedure.  
He stood, his eyes open, breath restless and shaky.   Pressing a hand to his 
saber, he headed back to the hatch.

	The hatched hissed open of its own accord, although he was not sure if it 
was himself or someone else that had prompted its action.  He paced down it, 
his steps measured as if each step was a point in a journey, an important place 
to be remembered and noted.  The light within the hangar was dim and metallic, 
the insides of a sleeping monster.  He stopped as he saw that the deck was 
deserted and a memory arose before him, light and voices from someone else's 
life.  

	Long ago it had been thus.  She had stood, filthy as he was now,  
lightsaber at her side, an emptied, foreign hangar looming all around.  Her flight 
suit was stained and her face scarred. He pulled a nervous hand along several 
days growth of beard and wondered what he looked like.   But she had not been 
alone.

	He gazed around, still lightheaded from the trance.  He was alone.  

	He took a step forward, a half step into the dim future, into fate.  The  
hatchway on the ship startled him by retreating of itself.  *Jade's Fire* then 
settled as if it were a bird gathering itself into feathered sleep.  He glanced back 
at it, nervous, and then ahead again, as a soft sound floated toward him.

	It was a faint bell, a warning.  He stopped.  But his head lifted and his 
eyes were now bright and glinting with anticipation and, perhaps, desire.  A 
door opened.  

	A woman stepped away from the enclosed space.  Her tall, lanky figure 
was highlighted in mottled light and shadow as she walked calmly toward him, 
assured and confident.  Her feet played noiselessly across the floor, wrapped in 
plain, soft boots.  Her hands were calm at her sides and her hair was dark and 
plaited.  But it was her eyes he saw first.

	Even in the dimness he could see their gray smokiness, the smokiness of 
the ghost ship now vanished.  It was a mysterious color, changing with the light, 
with the sky, with the sea.  It was these eyes that had laughed with him over 
Beggar's Canyon, had invited him to look upon infinite seas and not be afraid.  
They had lit through his tortured consciousness, a pure glint in the corrupted 
darkness.  They held wisdom, compassion, intelligence, and after a time, love.

	And it was the love he saw now. Her forward motion halted. A light 
seemed to emanate from her, a wafting, wavering luminosity.  He resisted an 
urge to reach out to her.  Instead, he waited.

	She gave him an appraising look and approached, her footsteps now 
audible in the softening atmosphere.  Her topaz lightsaber activated up through 
his blue eyes, a promise.  Instantly his green one answered and an echoing, 
shimmering noise flew through the artificial atmosphere, to be absorbed by the 
transparent, magnetic shield.  She shifted her weight, pushing it into his blade.  
He pushed back, his heart pounding.

	She frowned as he began to push her blade to the side, his greater 
strength giving him an edge.   For an instant she allowed it but then shifted her 
weight slightly back, knocking his stance askew.  Feeling the change, she 
lowered her blade, scoring the deck, and then circled it back up over her head 
so that it fell upon Luke's from above.  His hands shook as he gripped the handle 
of the green saber.  Energy, topaz and green, flew and hissed through the air 
between them.

	He shifted and leaned back into it again and she gave way.  He circled 
his blade and pushed forward, stepping in a following stride.  She blocked him.   
A clash sounded as the blades met again, loud in within the retreating silence.  
The stars, tangled and clustered, looked on in perfect indifference.

	A sudden vision came into his mind, his hands awash in her hair, her 
face turned toward him, the eyes smiling and bright, the mouth......  A whisper 
roared through his ears,  a small underbreeze heard over a hurricane.   He 
looked her directly in the eye, his attention distracted and her block became a 
shove.  The green lightsaber clattered away, suddenly silent along the 
impeccable floor.  He retreated a step.

	"Callista!" he whispered, his own voice strange to his ears, echoing 
against the walls, a very human sound.

	She aimed the tip of her blade at his chest.  "I am no longer Callista," 
she said, her voice strangely even.  A shadow touched her face, throwing the 
bridge of her nose and her beautiful lips into high relief.   Her eyes were fired, 
distant campfire on a foggy night.

	"But.... you are she.  I know you.  You've only forgotten...." he 
stammered, a rush of old feeling following the familiar words.

	"I have not forgotten anything, Luke," she said, pulling the blade back 
and deactivating it.  The elegant handle flashed through his peripheral vision 
and retreated into a fold of her clothing.

	"Then you know you are Callista," he said, retreating into her shadow.  
A moment of bright control and his lightsaber flew, faster than sight, into his 
hand .

	Her face was shimmered within the green light as he activated the blade, 
a challenge, and held it straight up between them.  Through it her features 
momentarily looked like an old-fashioned likeness held within a decorative 
holovid.  

	She resisted him, her sense high and quick.  "Callista is gone," she said, 
smiling, her perfect teeth flashing.  "I am Khaali."

	 His eyes became bright, the color of seawater under penetrating, 
morning sunshine.  "I've come here to save you.  I love you, Callie." he said 
softly, a lover's voice, the blade still between them.  It was dangerous, an 
elegant, knifed decision turning in the dimming shadows.

	Her reckless laughter was an assault upon the implacable, durasteel 
walls.  "Save me?" she said, pausing for breath.  "You came because I called, 
Luke.  I think I'm saving you."

	He lowered the blade, feeling something unexpected.  "Callie, you've 
got to come back with me.  You've got to get help.  Cilghal can ......."

	She stepped forward, suddenly dangerous.  "I told you, Luke, that's not 
my name."

	He swallowed, suddenly uncertain.  His beloved stood before him, Cray 
Mingla's face animated like a returned spirit, her hair now luxurious and dark, 
the thicknesses plaited into a quick braid, her eyes the same as those of the 
spirit on the ship.  But something had changed, something harsh and evil had 
entered her soul.  Instantly, an aching need to know filling his heart, he invaded 
her mind.

	He was amazed when the resulting blow sent  him sprawling onto the 
floor.  She laughed again, the sound mocking this time.  "You think I'm still that 
complaining girl of two years ago, don't you Luke?"   She turned away from 
him, from his sudden awkwardness as he gazed up at her.  Her swift movement 
was feral as she stalked back to him.  "You think I am that weak woman,  a 
woman with no soul. Look at me, Luke!" 

	Roughly she took him by the hand, pulled him up toward her.  Her grip 
was surprisingly powerful.  Immediately his pulse raced and  pounded, making 
him feel lightheaded again, the touch of her hand narcotic.  His head swam.  

	"I'm whole again, complete."  She smiled at him, melting his heart.  
"You are the one who is not complete....."

	Luke steadied himself, calling on the Force to clear his head.  He 
swallowed, suddenly realizing what had been happening to him for months now.  
All the secret desire, all the haunted memories, all the visions  that had 
followed his sleep as a jungle predator follows an ailing ruminant, these were 
all connected to her.  Tionne had been but a catalyst -- Callista had turned his 
desire for the administrator, his dark yearnings gnawing through  clawed night, 
into an obsession.  Callie had given it all to him, had played upon his weakness, 
had promised, in a darkhearted, macabre and wholly compelling way, a cure for 
his lifetime of loneliness. 

	He glanced around, tempted in a flicker of a moment, to bring his 
lightsaber to bear.  The green light of it called to him and he longed to see her 
face lit by its spectral light, to see her translucent, gray eyes washed out one last 
time by its cleansing stroke.  She was evil, powerful.

	She pulled her hand away from his grip and stood before him, a grown 
woman addressing a naive boy.  "There's no difference between the darkside 
and the light, Luke.  It's all the same.  Didn't Yoda tell you?"

	"Don't say that Callie!  You've been blinded by evil," he insisted, the 
casual blasphemy knocking him off balance.  His heart hardened as he fought to 
keep himself from activating his blade.  "I can help you.  I can bring you back 
where you belong!"

	"I'm not blind at all, Luke!" she replied, her voice snapping.  "For the 
first time in my life I can see clearly.  And I have the power to prove it."
	
	She approached him, putting a hand to his face.  She pulled it toward her 
and, with a ferocity he had never known, kissed him full on the mouth, her lips 
molding and rounding to his, one hand clutching and unclutching over his arm. 
Thinking only of pushing his desire back into passionlessness he found himself 
instead pressing his lips to hers.  And where he thought he had handed for his 
blade he realized that his hands were around her neck, his rough thumbs 
pressing against her swan's throat, the tips of his fingers brushing up under hair.  

	Instantly, as she felt his fingers tighten possessively around her neck, she 
stepped away, a serene smile mysteriously replacing the animal desire of only 
moments ago.  He fell forward as if still expecting her to be there, catching 
himself in a stumbled step.  She gave him a look of mingled contempt, pity and 
desire.  "You can't live without me, Luke," she whispered, baiting him as the 
bell sounded again.

	They both turned, he guilty and shamefaced, she overwhelmingly 
triumphant.  A squad of guards moved out, pacing in business-like fashion.  She 
waited, as was her due.  When they halted she signaled to the leader, gesturing 
carelessly at Luke.

	"Put him in detention," she said, with a voice cold and murderous.

	Her masked voice breaking his heart, he bowed his head.  His lightsaber 
flew into her hands and she grinned.  Wanting only to catch her eye again he 
made no resistance as he was lead away.



Samizdat Chapter 7

Byss

	Irek Ismaren moved with his usual grace into the small room.  He 
sighed and gave the place an impatient look.  It was time for lessons, the most 
fruitful lessons he had ever had in his short life.  But ever since Pallaeon had 
called he and his mother off Rasclann, his teacher hadn't been quite the same.  
Idly he glanced around but he did not need his force sense to know that Khaali 
had not yet arrived.  He stood for a moment, uncertain, and finally sat down, 
his feline muscles smooth as running water.

	It was a utilitarian space.  The only decorative artifiact was a heavily 
repaired fishing net common to the oceans of  Chad.  It spread along one wall.  
A small bed was alongside another wall, along with a light source.  A 
datapad lay on a built in desk. 

	Idly, as if he were but a curious child, he fingered the pad and threw 
his gaze back over his shoulder at the netted wall.  Ventilated air passed from 
a small, background vent, causing the diaphanous net to waver as if it were 
floating on cream-colored water, mundane and peaceful.  He pointed a 
cautious glance at the door.  Although, Master Khaali had managed to hide 
from him from time to time, he was certain he did not sense her presence.    

	Carefully, experimentally, he lifted the data pad off the desk and 
activated it.  The red letters floated into perfect symmetry on the dark page.   
It was not encrypted, a careless mistake.  Although, encryption would not 
have been much of a barrier for him.  A swift smile of satisfaction came and 
went, flickering moonlight on a cloudy night. It was mid-document.  He 
cycled the thing back to its beginning and was not surprised at what he found.  

	"Intelligence  -- Restricted -- Skywalker, Luke"

	He closed his eyes.  He knew she had been Skywalker's lover at one 
time.  In fact, if the tales were true, Skywalker was the reason she existed.  
This recollection, however, brought back some unpleasant memories.  

	He and his mother had fled Belsavis in disgrace.  They had been 
forced to lay low for a while afterwards while Roganda tried to repair the 
damage done by Leia Organa.  But, Roganda no longer had any credibility 
amongst the old houses.  It looked as though she and Irek were left to fend for 
themselves. When Admiral Pallaeon had come into control of Byss and the 
Core Worlds even he had wanted them both to retire, at best, into obscurity.  
They both knew they were fortunate that he had not had them hunted down and 
killed.  Only Roganda's eloquent pleading combined with the most strict of 
promises had won them this second chance.  That and Khaali's sudden 
appearance.  

	For it was about this time that the Ismarens were allowed to remove 
to Rasclann as a protective measure, a quiet place to train, or so they were 
told.  But Irek knew, in his dark heart, that somehow it had all had to do with 
Khaali.  

	Slouching in dissatisfaction, he lifted the pad and began to read.  Most 
of it he had either read or heard before, although some of the Emperor's early 
files regarding a force-strong boy who had appeared about the time of 
General Kenobi's death were intriguing.  Irek wondered how much Vader had 
really known about his own progeny.

	Of course, there was the incident where the Lord Vader had actually 
captured and tortured his own daughter, the Alderaanian princess.  All 
unknowing, but then he'd never had chance to explain himself.  Presumably he 
himself had only found out about his daughter right before he died.   
However, the Empire had only unsubstantiated rumor for this supposition.  
Irek smiled in a most malicious manner, grinning at the Sith Lord's fatal 
blindness and misfortune.  Hopefully, his son was just as blind.

	Irek's brow creased as he returned to his original problem, pulling his 
handsome face into a grimace. A short, running fear pushed through stifling 
self satisfaction, only to be replaced by the memory of Roganda's whispered 
assurances.  He was powerful, she told him and the Master would be with  
him always.  

	The grimace grew into another malicious smile.  His Force sense 
distracted, he had only a moment's warning as the door slid open and Khaali 
stepped in.  He straightened, swiftly depositing the pad on the desk exactly 
where it had been before.  She stopped and gave him an evil look.

	"Any reason for your presence, apprentice?" she asked, her voice soft.  

	He was not taken in by its softness.  "I thought perhaps.... " his eyes 
stole toward the bed.

	"No time for that, apprentice," she replied, her voice quick and 
authoritative.  "Besides, I believe you were snooping."  She came forward, 
retrieved the pad and pushed  the encryption key.  

	"Careless of you to leave that laying around," he said, smiling, 
bearing down on her.  "I heard about our new prisoner.  Where did you put 
him?"

	She gave him a smoked, uncertain look and, if he had not known 
better, he would have thought she was hiding something.  "If you are referring 
to the Master, he is in detention.  I've located a few ysalamiri for the 
occasion."

	"I hear he broke out of detention on Coruscant even though they had a 
room 'specially equipped for yasalmiri.  Perhaps you should drug him."

	She gave him gimlet look, the gray eyes clouded and secretive.  "I 
could put him into a trance.  That's how I got him here."  She turned away, her 
stride short in the small room.  "I want him conscious, for now," she said.  
"Besides," she continued, moving toward him again, "he had friends on 
Coruscant.  He arrived here alone."

	He leaned into her as she moved passed him, stopping her forward 
motion.  His hand reached up to loose her plait.  "When do I meet him?" he 
asked, his lips buried in the hair on top of her head. 

	She smiled, a cunning expression but he did not see.  "Soon."  She 
pulled away quickly a quicksilver uncertainty falling and rising before it 
disappeared under a subtle Force wave.  "I have to turn him first."

	He was derisive.  "That's impossible, Master.  Vader and the 
Emperor have already tried, twice if the rumors be true.  The Emperor's clone 
turned him for a time, but his..... sister.... pulled him out of it.  He will never 
be turned."

	Khaali turned her back to him, her hair now loose around her 
shoulders and down her back.  She flipped it, pushing small tendrils away 
from her face.  "That was before me," she replied simply.  

	His eyes held a blue, puzzled look as he pulled at her shoulders.  His 
expression looked as if he thought he had not heard correctly.  "What?"

	She gazed at him, her face a blank mask.  "He and I were lovers 
once."  The words echoed.  The net moved.  "He told me he would love me 
no matter what, whether I was Jedi or not.  Now," she said, her voice 
lowering to a dangerous level, "I am Jedi again.  He can't help but love me."

	He glared at her, a snapping, grabbing motion pushing through the 
Force.  "But Master, you're with me," he said quickly, snatching at her.  

	She gave him a confident look as he put his arms around her waist.  
"Yes, but Master Skywalker does not know that."  Her voice was perfect, the 
vowels wrapped quietly around the consonants in a plainspoken way.  "At 
first it must seem that I am in love with him, that I want only him.  With this 
weapon I can turn him.  I know it."

	A glowering moment lit the room, which seemed suddenly small, 
closeted, coffin-like.  "Does that mean.....?" he gestured, a slight movement, 
over to the bed again.

	"If need be," she replied, smiling her conquering smile and pulling 
back from him.

	He stepped back, his eyes blazing and angry, his hand high and violent  
as it sliced down in dangerous motion.  Immediately, her force blow 
backhanded him.  "Don't try that with me, apprentice!" she spat, her anger 
only just under control. "I know where my obligations are."  She paced away 
from him, all pretense gone.   "You are obligated to marry well and get an 
heir for the Empire, preferably a son. I am obligated," she paused, giving him 
a venomous look, "only to train you."

	He sighed, his hands beaten and stinging in a suddenly pleasurable 
way, and wondered how it had all become so tiresome.  "I know, Master," he 
whispered, his words a hissing abomination.  "But I want only you...."

	She snorted contemptuously and walked around him.  "You don't want 
anyone, Irek Ismaren, except, perhaps, your....."

	His voice stopped her.  "Don't even say it." he whispered,  as a thin, 
burrowing pleasure snuck up through his sense although his eyes flashed 
dangerous and killing.

	There was a moment between them, swift and angry.  He was 
impatient, betrayed, lustful.  His face glowered with desire.   She felt a 
disconcerting tightening at her throat.   The Force seemed to suddenly double 
in strength, boiling angry but promising, just held under a transparent patina of 
control.  She regarded him, her expression at first forbidding but gradually 
she allowed  a pleasured smile to creep over it, a seductive expression.  

	She let out the line a little, just to make him think he was free.  The 
moment settled, like fine net cast into a small breeze.  She moved away and 
all but passed him before she took his hand.  A torrid mood spilled over them 
like poisonous water.  He was waiting, unsure.  She took advantage of it, 
exploiting his high emotions.  

 	"In the meantime, my apprentice, it looks like we've got some time to 
kill," she said, her voice now soft, the overtones of seduction unmistakable.  
He did not smile as her sharp fingernails raised welts on the back of his 
hands.  Pain roused him and his grasping hand stopped her, her wrists 
blanketed by long, fierce fingers.  She only grinned.

	Quietly he let her lead him to the bed.

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


	After a night/day cycle had passed, Luke found himself well rested.  
The ysalamir, in an odd way, granted him peace, the first peace he had felt in 
a long time.  Without the Force his restless dreams stilled, the visions and 
voices fled leaving his mind to empty oblivion.  He knew that he could do 
very little without the Force.  But he also knew that she could do very little as 
well.

	"Detention" was well prepared, even relaxing.  He was living in a 
room with a bed, a rug on the floor and with complete refresher facilities.  
The lights were soft and glowing and his estimation of Imperial jails was 
considerably improved.  If no flickering force field had anchored the arched 
opening, he could have thought himself anywhere on a thousand worlds in a 
bland hotel room, during any number of official visits.  He rested on the bed, 
prone, empty, light.  His eyes were closed.

	"Well, I see we're feeling better."  The voice was clear and familiar.  
He opened his eyes to see her standing at the edge of the force field, hands 
clasped behind her back.

	He rose, his boots soft against the rug.  "Yes, I feel much better," he 
said, his voice even, almost normal.  "Thanks to your excellent facility 
here...."

	She merely laughed, cutting him off and despite himself his heart 
leaped in anticipation.  A whispered thought dogged his consciousness.  It 
had been a long time since her laughter had graced his hearing...... so long.

	She turned.  "Guard!" she called, her voice normal as it echoed off the 
corridor walls.  Immediately a guard appeared.  She put out an imperious 
hand and the force field  keyed off.  

	Luke did not smile nor make any sign, only moved through the 
opening.  The guard stepped back.  If he was surprised by the Jedi woman's 
behavior, he made no sign.  Khaali turned and headed up a hall.  Luke glanced 
around, noting the relative desertion of the corridor.

	She turned to give him an amused look.  "You could overpower me," 
she said, reading his thought despite ysalamiri, "but it would do little good.  
You would be stunned before you reached the docking bay."  She smiled at 
him in a formal way and Cray Mingla's face brought back the past with an 
iron clarity.  

	He felt his cheeks flush and only just caught himself before he turned 
to look, a sudden aching in his heart, for Nichos Marr, Cray's constant 
companion.  "Come," she said simply turning down the corridor.  After a 
hesitating moment, he moved to follow.

	They moved past a barrier and she made no sign as the Force swept 
back into both of them, an ocean wave washing in over dry beaches.  He 
sighed to himself as the voices and visions returned, murmuring through his 
consciousness, the full richness of its many layers colorful and magnetic in  
his mind.
 
	They followed a few twists and turns until they came to a large door.  
A comm console sat at its side.  Expecting an interrogation chamber, he gave 
her a startled glance as he recognized a small holovid theater.  "Why here?"

	She smiled.  "You'll see," she said, her voice low.  She pressed a 
series of buttons on the console and the door opened.  A blank, gray room 
stared back at his curious gaze.  There were a few seats here and there, 
isolated and odd.  A musty odor betrayed months, even years of disuse.  Dust 
settled on the forgotten chairs and rose spirit-like as they moved across the 
dirty floor.  A large viewing area resided in quiet malevolence at the center. 
She came to a halt beside a single chair.  He followed.

	The door slid shut behind them and he heard the computer locking 
sequence clicking after it, an aftershadow of sound.   She lowered her head 
and waved her hand.  A field of stars appeared at the center, where the 
holovids were customarily presented.  She continued to move about the room, 
shadowless and specter-like.  He pivoted on one foot in a practiced fashion, 
as his hand searched instinctively for his saber.  He did not find it. 

	Sensing his discomfort, a low laughter, murmuring and vicious, began 
to fill the room.  He glanced up and around. "Luke," the perfect voice said, 
clothed in a foreign accent that echoed sharply off the walls, "I'm so glad 
you've finally come."

	He turned to gaze at her.  "I answered your call," he replied simply, 
facing her and standing perfectly still.  

	The laughter became softer, but more distinct.  "Yes," Khaali 
answered.  "I thought perhaps, for a time there, I had been too strong.  After 
all, you almost killed Tionne."

	He blushed.  "It was only because of Kam...." he began, quick, rising 
anger edged with a tingling dirtiness stealing his words.  Bleak 
embarrassment choked him for a moment.

	"I sent Kam.  I was the one who woke him."  Her voice was now 
matter-of-fact, almost clinical.  She moved toward him.  Her face was 
astonishing; bright, perfect, the lips moving against the white teeth.  "You 
weren't the only one who loved her."

	Luke shifted his stance.  "Kyp loves her. I........" his words stopped 
here, choked.  He lowered his gaze.  "I desired her.  Kam doesn't love....."

	He heard rather than saw the smile.  "Tionne cut a wide swath."  
Khaali began to pace back and forth, like a caged vronskr, tagging the echoing 
walls.  "It was so easy, much easier than I'd ever dreamed.  She was the 
perfect in.  Better, even, than your sister."

	A hasty vision returned, of Leia's face surrounded by a rasping 
nightmare, black folds obscuring her delicate skin.  "What do you mean?" he 
asked, his voice a straight line.

	"I tried her first.  But you've blocked her out.  I only succeeded in 
making her sick."  She turned her gaze to him, stopping.  "Why?  Was it that 
she didn't like me, Luke?  Or perhaps she just didn't approve of me."

	Luke leapt to his interrogator's defense.  "She loved you, Callie," he 
replied, his words quick with uncertainty.   "She loved you because I loved 
you.  She knew how happy...." His words caught up with his sensibility and 
he stopped, confused.  

	Swallowing his rushed words, he suddenly realized Khaali was right.  
He had been blocking out his sister for months.  Perhaps it was Leia's  happy 
family life, or her concern for him, or her increasing responsibilities and 
dedication to her work.  Something about it all put him off.  He had isolated 
himself from her, for the first time since he had told her the truth about her 
parentage, all those years ago on Endor.

	Her laughter, this time dark and earthy, fouled his ears.  "You still 
love me, don't you?"

	Something within warned him not to answer.  He took a step 
backward and glanced back.  But, there was nothing there, only blackness.  
Suddenly, the room stank of old smoke and something rotting.   A clanking 
sound rang in his ears and, for no reason, his leg ached.  An agonized yell fell 
through a sightless corridor and he resisted the urge to run toward it.  A 
vision flew through his mind, carried within the dead, skeletal hands of old 
memories.  He took another backwards step.

	"Callie?" he said, into empty, dank air.

	But he could not stop it.  Before him appeared a deserted 
quartermaster's office, blankets and odd cushions piled in front of a computer 
monitor.  He stepped toward it, his heart aching in sudden, unbearable bursts.  
There was no organic voice, only the sound of the sea in his head.

	Amber words burned onto the screen.  "Luke, I love you.  How could 
you leave me?"

	Moving toward it faster than he ever intended and he sank to his knees 
on the pile of cloth, the rough seediness of the uppermost blanket grinding 
through his clothes.  "I won't leave you," he said.

	"But you want to go," the words replied, appeared in one warm burst.  
A breeze wandered through his mind, salt riding on the air.  He lifted his face 
into its coolness and closed his eyes.  

	"No, you've forgotten, I never wanted to go," he reasoned, his voice 
now quiet and whispered.  Determination lanced into his soul. He opened his 
eyes again.  

	"I don't believe you," the words read.  "You left me to die here, you 
left me to die over Yavin IV.  You don't love me.  You are a liar and a tease, 
Luke."

	The words echoed within his mind and a picture of Tionne's 
astonished, resisting face floated up and away as he saw the words, glowing 
with damnation, on the visionary screen.  Speechless, he studied the familiar 
script for a while, his heart breaking in slow motion.  He rose and his knees 
ached.  When he found his voice again, it was soft and slapping like rain 
soaked laundry.  "Callie, please..... don't do this.  You left me...... 
remember?"

	As soon as he spoke the smoky ship vanished, the amber words 
blinking out last, floating disembodied within the disused theater. The letters 
shrank so that they resembled only tiny orange teeth in the gloom. He watched 
as they vanished, one by one, like small, mischievous spirits, mocking and 
derisive.  A horrible fascination seized him and feeling suddenly as if the 
walls were slamming down, he turned, seeking escape. 

	He made for what he thought was the door, but found her instead, 
standing before him.  She was barefoot, only half dressed in a pale shift of 
some kind.  Her hair was down, flowing like a river all around her graceful 
neck and bony but well muscled shoulders.  Her arms were bare, sloping 
down to sniewed elbows and elegant, capable hands.  

	Her face was soft in the suddenly appealing light. Her eyes glinted 
sharp, a  barrier. A faint memory stirred of  light pulsing within ancient stones 
as it ran along a sliver of punishing, jungle warmth.  "You have hurt me, 
Luke," she said, holding out a conciliatory hand.

	He refused it, stepping back, lifting his eyes to hers.  "You've gone to 
the darkside, Callie."  His voice was defiant, determined now.   "I can help 
you."

	She threw back her beautiful head and laughed.  To his dismay, even 
the scornful  laughter made his pulse race, made him want to take her.  "Luke, 
you're the one who needs help."  Her voice held no hesitation. "Come," she 
said, turning toward the center of the room, her hands spread along the 
rejuvenated starfield.

	Defensively, he turned away.   Despite his movement, she caught his 
hand and he felt within a suspicion, a hint of perilous surrender as her palm 
burned into his.  "You've been sitting in the jungle too long.    Look at the 
galaxy...."she said, her voice a weapon.   He wanted to shut his eyes but they 
remained open as if under a spell.  

	A tale of misery and woe instantly surrounded him.  A family fled 
through open streets, hunted down by a squad of troops, blasters firing 
mercilessly into the parents and, finally, into the children, killing them all one 
by one.   Blaster fire continued, raining down on people as they scrambled 
through the street, like hydrorodents scattering in a killing game.  

	A slave appeared, standing in a field bounded by hot breezes, his face 
swollen and disfigured by a brand.  The crude design swam smoothly across 
the old man's cheekbone as he collapsed only to be roused by a relentless, 
overseer droid.  Delicate fruit hung all around, exquisite and expensive.  
Rough hands moved to pick it, dull eyes escaped the drudgery of the soil only 
to face a blazing sun.  And in the faraway quarters, an unattended baby cried, 
its mother too far away to hear it in the burning fields.  

	It was dusk.  A young man ran across weary, bedraggled streets, 
clutching something in a thin, skeletal hand.  Luke watched as the fugitive 
halted, gave his surroundings a guarded look, and as if possessed by an evil 
spirit,  turned the clutched injector on himself.  An expression of bliss 
transported his skull-like face as he sank down uncaring in the middle of the 
street, his eyes staring in death.  Another ran by and, finding the dead man, 
bent in a furtive, rat like motion, to pick through the torn and filthy pockets.  
Trembling hands pushed stolen, pitiful possessions into his own and he 
moved off in disgusting haste, searching for another fix.     

	Luke watched as children were orphaned, taken from powerless 
parents.  The old were destroyed  piece by mortal piece, dying in poverty and 
want, unattended and unloved. He saw the poor beaten down, dirty, living in 
heaped tenements, dark and airless.  

	Then he blinked, his eyes aching from an elegant, comfortable light as 
a woman dressed in the height of fashion tossed a high denomination credit 
chip onto an elegant gaming table, enough credits to feed an entire planet for a 
year.  A wheel turned, a gracefully carved stick appeared and the money was 
pulled away.  She had lost.  Her elegant, ringed hands flicked in disgust as 
they curled around a small drink glass.  She retreated.  

	Before his eyes, a line of dignified senators,  in perfect order, 
rounded a corner in the fortress-like Imperial Palace on Coruscant, dignified, 
peaceful and, most damning of all, oblivious.  The government of the New 
Republic, now hopelessly in over its head, moved in deep, meaningless 
silence through its pompous and utterly useless representational procedures.  
An echo, a graceful flutter of a senatorial robe followed as, far away,  home 
planets and populations lived in misery, resigned to their fate.  

	And finally he saw the noble remnants of the Empire, unrepentant and 
fierce, living on the short rations of  isolation and pride.  Unwavering 
martyrs, imprisoned within unheeded poverty, held fast to their beliefs and 
goals as systems and worlds slowly succumbed to lurking chaos all around.

	"You can help them, Luke, these innocents," she said, her voice 
startling him with its reasonable tone.  "You're the only one who can help."  
He glanced after her, as she dropped his hand.  A swift moment and she 
vanished, leaving him alone with the boiling, holographic depiction.

	His searching gaze could not find her within the flashing images.  
"How?" he whispered, even though part of him knew that what she was going 
to say would be unthinkable.

	"Become the new Emperor, Luke."  The words were seductive and 
shimmering, wavering through the reconditioned air as if they were alive.  
	
	A sharp breath rattled him, rasping its way through his lungs.  A 
pulling motion appeared, almost embodied within the dirty air.  Her 
lightsaber suddenly appeared in his hands.  One practiced flick and it was 
activated.  The lighted blade pierced the confused images, a pure shaft 
searching through dim, night dreams.  Her elixir of passion and power called 
to him in a voice at once compelling and disgusting.  He swung the saber in 
an elegant, offensive motion and stepped forward.

	He longed for her next words but when they finally echoed within his 
hearing he raised the saber and whirled as if to ward off a whispering spell.  
"The Empire shall rise again."  The voice was clear, precise, almost cold.  
"However, what you choose is of no matter.  For if you refuse us, there is 
another."    

	Taken aback by her words, he continued to search for her face through 
the flashing vision surrounding him, the light of the saber turning with him.  
He parried into the images, willing them gone.  "But, Leia's resisted all of 
your attempts to....."

	The quiet, cold voice interrupted.  "Leia's dead.  She died on 
Tatooine.  Didn't you know?"

	"No!" he shouted, the word bursting up through his lungs. The 
lightsaber flashed, lethal and beckoning as he paced back, her voice suddenly 
unbearable. His boots scraped across the floor in fast, graceful steps.  Gloom 
settled over the pre-formed images as they darkened and danced away.

	A flowering of light lit his tortured gaze as stinging dust entered his 
eyes.  His sense collapsed.  He held the saber out  in the classic defensive 
stance, his hands firmly encircling the handle.  Faintly, sounds on the edge of 
hard consciousness, he heard Ben's voice and a baby crying.   His mind 
grasping at the somehow hopeful sound, he saw that the roiling, mist-like 
darkness had returned.  Only the topaz lightsaber remained unshadowed.

	A sharp image of grave markers came and went. White, hot sunlight 
burned into scrub and sand.  Leia was there, seemingly asleep as the metallic 
markers shimmered under intolerable heat. Her face was pale, eyelashes 
curled against cheeks, childlike and fragile in death.  He remembered the 
faraway princess of a lifetime ago and stumbled in despair toward her body. 
Khaali's laughter was a tracing on the ground, a ghastly border, daring him to 
cross.  The graves seemed to sink as he set foot upon them and cadaverous 
darkness swallowed him as the light broke into small, shattered pieces and 
fell away.  

	He opened his eyes to the shadowed room.  His hands were trembling 
as they gripped the handle of the saber.  "Leia's dead," he echoed, repeating 
the inconceivable thought in a stunned whisper, heartbroken.  The lightsaber 
dipped almost to the floor as he pivoted, searching.

	"You killed her," the witch replied, her words rising like a 
malevolent mist, freezing in midair as soon as she uttered them.  "You and 
your absurd idealism, your high standards."  The jeering words cut him 
through, like a hunter's precise cleaning knife.  "You're to blame -- you led 
her to believe you could uphold the entire New Republic with your 
inadequate Jedi.

	She seemed to move through her evil, worded mist, her voice 
changing direction.  "It was all for naught.  If you do not take the throne Luke 
......." she continued and the sound of her lips around his name caused the 
saber to rise dangerously as he swung toward her.   Her figure appeared, 
commanding, powerful, edged in an aura of red light.   "There is another Jedi.  
But he is cruel and wicked."

	An exploding thought raced through the depths of his mind, and his 
heart pounded so that he feared it would leave his chest.   The small, half 
light of the room faded to nothing as black realization took over.  They did not 
need him.  He could die and it would not matter, except perhaps to a few 
adoring students and a relative or two.  He held the lightsaber perfectly still, 
statuary, a shaft of old, weather-beaten stone.  Luke did not recognize the 
sound of his own voice.  Her heard only words, a stranger's words.   "Irek 
Ismaren," he whispered, his voice now ragged and worn. The saber pulled 
fleeing shadows across his open features.  "Irek is the dark Jedi, the new 
........"

	She appeared before him, melting out of the dust and debris, a ghost 
reeking of filth and treachery, her every utterance a condemnation.  "Irek 
Ismaren is prepared to take the Empire to new glories.  "But," her voice was 
again cold, a winter wind over low hills, "if he were to take the throne, Luke, 
what would happen to the galaxy?"  The words flowed from her molded lips. 
He heard the unclean sensuality buried there, heard the evil.  "He will kill 
and cripple and those he does not, he will surely torture.  What will happen to 
your fledgling worlds, Luke?  What will happen to the new generations, to the 
Jedi? For these........ these Jedi he will surely seek out first.  Just as the 
Emperor did, years ago."  Her voice changed, became taunting.  "Are you 
willing to condemn your students to death, Luke?"

	The words burned through his soul like fired arrows tearing through 
pure flesh.  Unthinking, driven by the demons of power and possibility he 
moved too swiftly for her. The lightsaber swung wildly as he pushed into her, 
the force of his blow sending her toppling, thrown with supernatural strength 
halfway across the room. He scrambled after her as she struggled to stand.   
He saw a jagged scar open over her forehead.  Blood ran down her face, a 
river of laceration.  He lunged again and caught at her, pushing her brutally 
back down onto the floor. Dust and debris scattered, obscuring the air 
between them.  Relentless, he came through it, the saber bearing down on her 
as he advanced.
	
	Its handle was now familiar but strikingly cold, as if it were some 
artifact he had found in an old, ceremonial grave.  He barely felt it. Instead he 
pulled toward her, the tip now pointed at her heaving chest.  "Callie.... please 
..... don't make me do this!"  His voice held a hiking note of desperation.  

	She gave her own activated blade, shimmering next to her perfect 
skin, a cool look.  He waited.  Blood ran down her cheeks, onto her lips, 
down her chin.  She made no move only turned her gray gaze into his blue 
one.  He was breathing hard, and she could feel the crazed circle of his mind 
as he searched for reasons, any reasons, not to kill her.

	She smiled at him, the intelligence resting in her face at once 
primordial and sophisticated.  Her hair was disheveled, her feet were bare, 
vulnerable and white on the metal deck.  A  vision appeared in his head, of 
her face as she slept in his pallet on Yavin, serene, an old legend come to 
life.  Even her bloody lips were soft and inviting.  

	Giving him the moment, she pulled herself to kneel at his feet in 
homage.  The head was lifted, the eyes were penetrating, promising.  Her 
mouth moved, and the seductive curse issued from it.  "Darkside, goodside, 
what does it matter, Luke?  The power's the same in the end."  She spread her 
perfect hands in chilling imitation of his dead sister.  "Help me, Luke 
Skywalker.  You're my only hope."

	A horrible threat tore through his body and he lifted the floating 
lightsaber over her.  Something in her expression changed and she bowed her 
head, exposing her long neck as disheveled hair fell away from it, a killing 
gesture of submission.  She closed her eyes, her face expressionless and 
sacrificial.  The lightsaber began its long fall through the thick air as the loose 
hair stilled.  The back of her neck was pale and stemlike.  The saber sliced 
the air, imprisoned within the gloom that closed in after it, its light useless 
and dull.  The starfield winked out and another creeping darkness flowed all 
around him.
	
	A jolt of despair shook him and feeling the sickening downswing of 
his muscles he  stopped just before the blade fell, instead throwing the 
lightsaber across the room.  It clattered through the mist and came to a rolling 
halt, loose teeth in a skull's sightless head.  He sank to his knees as she lifted 
her bloodied face to greet him.  Hot, passionate hands reached out to his,  
feeling along his roughened and workworn fingers, pushing her hands up and 
through them. A sudden image of another woman's small hands, the fingernails 
stubby and ill-kept, fleetingly cluttered his mind and then was gone, 
swallowed by the dragon of  Khaali's darkness. 

	And then, without further ceremony, he pulled at her and together they 
fell to the floor.  He lay alongside her and with trembling hands, cupped his 
fingers up around her bleeding face.  A trickle of violent red marred his 
cheeks and his lips tasted of blood as he kissed her.  Uncloaked willingness 
rang through his scarred soul, burning away the old memories, the old hurts.  
Now there was only her.  Now there was only the future.  The past was dead.

	But one last time, in one brief flicker of purity before he gave himself 
to lust, to his gnawing incompleteness, he glimpsed Mara's face, pale, hair 
pulled back, a half smile lighting her green eyes.  A shadow fell across it, 
worry causing her brows to pucker angrily in a heartbreaking expression.  His 
heart tore within him, his soul reached one last time for the light as a 
disembodied voice rang through time and space.  Mara  reacted, as if caught 
by surprise, her eyes lifting and something within her reached out...... 

	But no, a pounding, destroying darkness sucked at his being, dragging 
him into evil.  His soul fell away.  The stars flashed in their eternal paths 
before winking out, system by system.  His soul writhed one last time and 
surrendered.  He was alone with the darkside. 

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


	Locks were never a problem for Irek.  He had never regarded them as 
a barrier or even thought about them much, one way or the other.  They 
existed for the sake of other people, people much less powerful than himself.  
The Force was alive in his mind, the workings of the life all around him 
moving in waves as he pushed through it.  Machinery clicked and whirred as 
he read through schematics and circuitry in a split second.  His mind 
wandered, purposeful.  He had not found what he was looking for.

	His stride, perfectly silent, an ancient pterraleopard living again 
within the cold world of space technology, served him well as he slunk 
toward a forgotten place.  A hissing moment passed as he halted and changed 
direction, his sense unerring.  She had taught him well.  Perhaps, too well.

	He found himself standing before the door to the forgotten theater, his 
mind alive with hate and betrayal.  He hit the locking mechanism with a 
small, subtle fingernail of darkness.  The archway opened quietly.  He moved 
through it smelling burned circuitry.  He smiled in satisfaction and knew that 
Khaali's closing spell was utterly destroyed, the circuits were now only 
burned and useless wiring.  

	A stinking darkness assailed him, palatable and real.  The blackness 
was a living thing  a barrier, he knew.  The red light of his saber came 
forward, its glow cutting with ominous purity through the gloom.  Smoke and 
the smell of ozone drew themselves around him.  Undeterred, he passed 
through them and found another barrier.  The smell of fresh blood flowed 
around him, a clotted, red river.  His senses pricked and expanded.  

	With his lightsaber held before him, his grip perfect, his sense clear, 
it did not take him long to find them.  A passionate gloom beat and pulsed, a 
living thing.  Her defenses were wearing away as she lost herself within her 
old lover's embrace.  

	Animalistic scrambling, coupled with low, intimate whispers assailed 
him first.  His jealous heart flew into a stormed rage, forced quiet within a 
tomb as he searched, seeking her sense.   His saber jerked and parried, 
unsupported in the thick air.  Murky lightness flashed as he saw Luke 
Skywalker jerk Khaali up off the floor, bruising hands manacling her sinewy 
arm.   
	
	Irek flowed out of Khaali's Force darkness, his blue eyes raking the 
two Jedi Masters up and down, searching and insane.  He took in the 
disturbed debris on the floor, the smears on their clothes.  They looked dirty, 
bedraggled and startled, animals interrupted in the middle of something 
primitive and uncontrollable.  

	Khaali stood barefoot in her ripped and stained clothing, her hair 
tangled and ratted.  Luke's hands grasped Khaali's waist and arm in a 
deathgrip, ignoring a sharp cry of pain as he held her back. His eyes were 
slitted, one side of his tunic torn so that it fell away from bare skin.  A red 
whelt appeared there, stinging and painful.  At first Irek thought that the dark 
smears on their faces were only dirt from what must have been one helluva 
fight.  But no, the lightsaber, its purity unassailed by the disgusting scene 
before it, told him differently.  

	Even Irek, in all his perversions, was unprepared for what the red 
energy of his lightsaber revealed.  The smears on their faces were not dirt, 
they were blood.  He came to see that what he had taken as dirt all along was 
in fact a trail of blood.  It stained both Skywalker's tunic and Khaali's shift, it 
glistened in their hair, it stained their fingers.  And, worst of all, as they 
turned to gaze sharply at his intruding presence, he saw blood on both sets of 
lips.  Like two evil creatures of old folklore, they gazed at him for a long 
moment, a grave-like darkness stretching before them, their eyes red-rimmed 
and crazed.  Shocked and astonished, Irek was pushed backwards.

	That was all the opening Skywalker needed.  He fell away from 
Khaali and into the protective blackness.  Irek made a decision and followed.  
Khaali screamed.  "Irek!  No, don't......!"  

	But she was interrupted by the topaz shadow of her own lightsaber.  
Skywalker had found it along the floor and was now standing before Irek, his 
powerful presence teasing, playing with the darkside.  Luke's light, almost 
moon eyes, gazed at him, a feral look.  Instinctively Irek lifted his blade.  

	The two blades met with a blinding crash, the energy thundering 
through the room. A roiling energy heat stirred and beat upon the walls as  
Luke ripped apart Irek's inadequate defenses.   Blind with rage and the fury of 
interruption, Khaali's blade beat upon Irek's red one again and again, forcing 
the young man, step by step, back toward the door.  Irek gave the room behind 
him a quick glance, seeking cover.   

	Grasping with his dark mind, Irek threw a chair at Luke who saw it 
coming and sliced it clean through with the lightsaber.  Instantly a whirlwind 
of objects followed.  Luke only grinned as Khaali's lightsaber sang in the 
dark.  Disheartened in a sudden deflation of overconfidence, Irek continued to 
retreat, making a steady pace for the destroyed door.   Cut and bleeding, Luke 
continued to advance on the would-be Emperor, mighty and inexorable.   

	Irek shuddered at the enormous power of the Master.  Luke's Force 
sense was commanding and horrible, his terrible emotions seemed to enfold 
the entire space around them in hideous darkness.  Visions of  grotesque 
monsters spat and flew through the air around them as Irek fought with all his 
strength.  They lunged at him, wild cries ringing in his ears. He began to panic 
as the sound of prehistoric voices crashing  through vanished forests pounded 
all around him.

	Luke's offensive shattered the red light, splintering it as he ran 
Khaali's blade through it again and again.  The handle in Irek's hand sparked 
warningly and he knew,  in a swirling mass of confusion and sudden 
weakness, his saber was in the process of shutdown.   Smelling defeat and the 
hot odor of fresh kill, Irek finally pulled his weapon into a defensive position 
and deactivated it.  And then, with the light, cowardly fleetness of a hunted 
herbivore he jumped the rubble of the doorway and vanished like a vision 
within the dim corridor.

	A quick, slamming silence rang through the room.  Nothing 
reverberated off the dank walls as the topaz saber flinched within the dust and 
dirt stirred up by furious fighting.  Khaali, held motionless and deaf, hesitated 
wondering what Luke would do.  But then, watching him, pulling apart his 
hurt, aching soul piece by piece, she knew.  Her heart filled with panic.  

	Luke, standing alone, panting, covered in blood, dirt and sweat, held 
the topaz light up to his face as if seeing if for the first time.  A white light 
arose around him, outlining him  with a supernatural fire as the saber shone 
undimmed, singing a dirge.

	Khaali's saw Luke study the lightsaber's handle for a moment.  
Sensing something wrong, a yawning, limitless pit rising up through clear 
night, she stumbled toward him.   Her words fell into the silence, desperate 
words holding meaning her consciousness did not understand.  

	"Luke....Luke.... Luke, listen..... listen to me!"  she screamed, her 
voice now cutting and desperate within the soiled air.   

	The blade lit his expression as if it were a  graveside portrait, 
peaceful and uninformative for the casual visitor.  The stains of the darkside 
marred him, marred his pure face and hands, marred his plain tunic, marred 
his limitless eyes.   The odor of wet, freshly turned soil arose, assailing her 
sense.

	Slowly, as if in deep thought he schooled his expression into the silent 
blankness of a statue.  With sure, deliberate hands he turned the blade of the 
activated saber to his own throat.   Cool decisiveness settled about his soul.  
He was a man with nothing to lose, with nothing more to live for.  

	Khaali pushed away her fear and stumbling  into him, knocked her 
hand into his, breaking his hold.  Luke's grip was not broken but the saber 
was tipped down instead of into his own throat.  Sparks flew, a welder's 
destructive fire, along the floor as it scored metal flooring.  An extinguished 
hissing brought the flooding darkness upon them as she pulled back, readying 
for another strike.

	She pushed at him again, and he resisted as if by rote, held prisoner 
within a mechanical oblivion. Again, sightless, he pulled the reactivated 
blade back to his throat.  This time, his right hand, singed, synthetic skin 
pulled back from blackened circuitry, reached out and without warning, bore 
down on her. She struggled, animal like and wild.  

	"Luke..... you can't .... It's not time........!"  Her voice, hoarse with fear 
and no repentance, actually pleaded with him.  "Luke, listen to me," she said, 
uttering the words quickly, trying desperately to push her mind back into his 
consciousness.  "You've got to live.  You've got to come with me.  You must 
rule, instead of Irek  ......."

	But it was no use.  The lightsaber, its elegant handle obscured by the 
Master's grip, it's flowing energy translated into a voice heard only by the 
dying, was ominously motionless, the long, preparatory silence before 
premeditated murder.   His grip on her arm tightened and she was 
immobilized, astonished at his strength.   A great wave of smooth, cold water 
broke over her head somewhere and she fought to keep her slipping 
consciousness.  

	 Terse military conversation crept up the corridor and through the 
door.  They were human voices, guards' voices.  Her eyes felt as if they were 
weighted but she forced them open one last time.  Sparks flowed through her 
line of sight, obscuring her vision.  A bright, artificial light seemed to come 
from the corridor, the door controls broken and unmoving.  The lightsaber 
moved through the morbid darkness and she shouted with all her fading 
strength.  In one hallucinogenic moment, its light combined with the lights 
from the corridor.   Then a blanket shrouded sight as her hearing was 
punctuated by pulsing blaster notes, creating a dark symphony of  desperate 
sound.  Failing vision told of Imperial troops. 

	 Hot laser fire hit Luke full in the chest and his grip fell away as he 
went down.  The loss of his hand sent her sprawling with pent up momentum 
and released pain.   She drew upon the Force, willing consciousness, but 
Luke's attack had been too strong.   She heard the ominous sound of clattering, 
clicking boots against metal.  The room seemed to shrink and fade into 
oblivion as someone shouted and the lightsaber clanged away, dropped by a 
lifeless hand. 

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

	Hyperspace


	Mara Jade glanced up from the pilot's console.  Hyperspace glowed 
through the front viewport, wrinkles and odd lines aging the galaxy into a 
friendly, old man.  Han Solo sat down in the co-pilot's chair.  He seemed 
relaxed, but as he sat, his hands hit the co-pilot's console a little too hard.

	"I didn't run her into any black holes, sir," she said by way of greeting, 
grinning