The Idiot

The idiot lived in a black and gray world, punctuated by the white lightning of hunger and the flickering of fear. Of course the idiot in question really is not an idiot in the classical sense of the word. On the contrary, he is bright, intelligent, empathic and in full command of his mental faculties. After all, a Jedi is expected to be sane. He feels hunger because it is lunch time, and he merely sits here in the cafeteria waiting for some sign from the Force, telling him when he should choose to get his lunch. He has the fear, because he is not sure the Force is out there to tell him when he should go get his lunch.

But ultimately he lives in a black and gray world.

Oh sure, there was a time when he saw the universe in its brightness, color, and glory. There was a time when he was a happy warrior of the Force. Doing what was good and right, instinctively and without fail.

Then the Vong came.

Death, despair and destruction caused him to question the Force. Captivity caused him to question his sanity. And Vergere, well she drove him color blind.

For good or for ill, the way that Jacen sees the world, are those mind-numbing shades of grey. His views of a world without contrasts, one of moral flexibility, they are the products of Vergere.

It is an interesting world. One where the only truth, is that there is no truth, and yes he questions that paradox on a daily basis. This world is built on the firm belief that what is good and right, is a personal matter and different for every individual. This world lacks a Dark Side and it lacks a Light Side as well. It only has the grey. For in this world, dark and light are to facets of the same coin, and that coin is the Idiot. Yet for all the interest and wonder this world has caused the Idiot, it is still a grey, dull world.

It has made the Idiot quite depressed.

Why?

It is simple. The Idiot had heard these things before. What Vergere had taught him, was nothing new to him. Years before the Vong came, and years before that silly bird hopped over to him. He was taught the Potentium by a fallen Jedi named Brakiss.

He knew then that Brakiss was wrong. That what Brakiss taught was fundamentally flawed. As he sits and watches his empty plate he wonders why exactly he believed Vergere when she taught him the exact same thing.

As these thoughts run through his mind for the hundredth time, he hears a strange sound. A scraping. He looks up and notices a young apprentice sitting across from him, a plate of food before him.

He frowns, as it has been many years since one so young has dared venture this close to him. His grayness tends to leak into the Force, and the youngest among them feel it the greatest.

Sometimes he wonders if that grayness is what drew Ben to him.

Finally, he realizes he should say something to the youngling. “Can I help you?”

The youngling just smiles and starts to eat. Between bites of food he says, “Nope. Jus’ eatin’”

“Eating.”

“What?”

“The word is pronounced eating. There is a guh sound at the end of it.”

The boy gives him a lopsided smile. “Does it matter?”

The Idiot stops his instinctive answer in the affirmative and ponders that for a moment. “You know, I really don’t think it does matter.”

“Then why’dja correct me?”

To this the Idiot has no reply. Why did he correct the youngling? Was it instinct? Was it dark or light? Was it for balance?

The Idiot smirks at the youngling. “I corrected you, because it does matter. The words we use are representations of our thoughts and intelligence. When you don’t use them properly, it’s saying you lack one or the other.”

“Then why’dja say it didn’t matter?”

The Idiot frowns slightly. Trying to remember why he said that. Yet he couldn’t. The Idiot knew that there was a sound reason for correcting him. He knew there was a sound reason why it mattered.

The Idiot knew there was a right and a wrong it that regard.

And the Idiot knew that the right and the wrong were external to himself and the youngling.

The Idiot once more looks at the boy, a shining beacon of color in this world of grey. Leaning in, he whispers in a conspiratorial way, “So you would question me some more.”

The boy and the Idiot laugh.

The Idiot feels himself smiling, and he wonders about that. He has not smiled in to long, and has forgotten just how good it feels to do so. Looking at the boy he says, “My name’s Jacen, what’s yours?”

“Dac.”

“Tell me Dac, what do you think is truth?”

“Truth is the same thing as real.”

Frowning at the simple complexity of the answer, Jacen asks one more question. “Do you think good and bad are inside of you, or outside?”

“Both.”

“Excuse me?”

“Both. We are all able to do good and bad, so it’s inside of you, but there are others who are doing good and bad as well. So it’s outside of you.”

“And the Dark Side? What about it? Is it inside or outside of you?”

Dac smiles. “Both.”

Jacen frowns once more. “Explain.”

“It’s the same thing as bad. The Dark Side is in you. You can hear it whispering to you, telling you to use the Force to take an extra cookie. It’s both inside as I hear it in my head, and outside as I can see what it does to others.”

The Idiot closes his eyes and ponders. He wonders at the sheer simplicity of that statement. Could it be true? Is the Force both internal and external? Did it control your actions and follow your demands?

Then he runs up on the crux of the problem. What galls him to now end. If it is both, wouldn’t that make Uncle Luke right?

The Idiot has always prided himself on being empathic and smart. Of having a deeper, cleaner connection to the Force than his Uncle, as their training, and how they were raised were so different from one another. He always saw it as his uncle the weapon, and himself as the brains.

Could this entire time the weapon have known more than the brains?

In the Force he can hear a small, nearly silent “yes.”

As he accepts this, as he accepts how wrong he was, as he accepts just how much his uncle always did know, the Idiot opens his eyes.

Once more he finds himself in a world of color and beauty. A world where things range from black to white, range from no color to all color. A world where good and evil have meaning, and he can fight for one or for the other. He smiles and finds himself happy, as there is beauty in the contrasts.

Jacen looks towards Dac. “Would you like to be my Padawan?”

Dac smiles. “Why’dja think I sat here?”

Pleasure & Pain: Chapter Four

I’m not sure when the slimy things stopped, but at some point they did, and fell off or were taken away. My robe was placed over my shoulders again, granting me that comfortable pain, my one companion since I awoke.

I feel a slight pinprick on my arm. The pinprick is noticeable, because the pain from the robe is once more gone. I open my eyes to find Lumiya standing before me. I glance at my arm, and notice the IV feed going to a device hanging beside me.

“What’s that?”

Again, that smile of hers, causing my heart to jump. “Merely a saline solution.”

She runs her hand through my hair, down the side of my face, and cups my chin in her hand. Her voice is purring once again. “You’ve been a very, very good boy, so I don’t want you becoming dehydrated.”

I take in her form again, the smooth skin, the barely there shift, the red hair. “So are you ready to serve me? Or must this pain continue? Please Anakin, it truly hurts me to see you suffer so, you have the power to stop it, just serve me, and it will be over.”

Her look is pleading, breaking my heart, so I let my gaze fall to the floor. “I won’t kill Tahiri.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, my restraints let lose a strong electric jolt.

She turns her back to me, and walks from the room, the pain from my robe picking up as she leaves.

I’m not sure if I should be happy or sad over that.

She returns carrying something small and furry in her hands. I notice that the pain the robe gives lessens as she comes closer to me. She lifts the small furry bundle and I recognize a young whisperkit. Its mews sound weak and pitiful.

I can feel its fear in the Force.

Lumiya’s entire stance and bearing has become aggressive, dangerous. I can feel a surge of lust and adrenaline pour through me.

She touches a small control panel, and the repulser drops me. I stand for the first time in days, and that feeling of wholeness once more fills me.

“Then let us stay with the simple tasks. Kill this whisperkit.”

“What? Why?”

“Must we go through this every time? The small tasks, serving me, these things stop the pain. What other reason do you need? The droid posed no trouble, what is different with this small kitling?”

“It’s…it’s alive?”

“Semantics. From a certain point of view the same could be said of the droid. In fact more so, since some consider droids as being sentient.”

I can remember the screams that the droid made. Whoever programmed it was good, it had sounded so much like a pleading child. “I can’t do that.”

Even as I say the words, I wonder if they’re true. After all, she had a point; I have always viewed Threepio or Artoo as more alive than anything Jace kept in his menagerie.

Her voice takes on a pleading note. “Please Anakin, just kill this whisperkit. That’s all I ask.”

I look up at her, and notice that her shift is opened slightly wider, her free hand moving along the opening. Her voice is now throaty as she continues pleading; it reminds me of Aunt Mara’s voice on our mission to Duro, when she was dressed up as a Kuati noble. “Please Anakin, do it for me.”

I can’t help myself at that. I reach out in the Force, and shut down the whisperkit’s heart, feeling my own break, my soul darkening in ways I can’t describe, and I can feel the tears as they begin to fall.

I hear myself mutter, “I’m damned.”

Yet to my own ears it sounds like someone else had said it.

Then Lumiya is there, her body pressing up against me. Her excitement and happiness are infectious. She leans down and kisses me, and all thoughts of the whisperkit flee. I’m locked in the moment. This time, because the restraints are turned off, my arms move of their own accord and wrap around her. My hands get tangled in her long red hair.

She breaks the kiss, and leans in close to my ear. “Serve me, obey me, and the pain will stop. Please Anakin, for me.”

I shiver at the words, how they feel as she whispers them into my ear. How they feel as they lodge into my mind.

I lower my face once more, and turn from her. I know she won’t like what I’m about to say. “I won’t kill Tahiri.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, my restraints send the strongest jolt of pain through me yet.

Her look is one of sorrow and pain.

She slowly pushes me back towards the repulser and turns it back on. I find myself once more floating slightly above the ground.

Her lips feel like fire on my forehead as she places a gentle kiss there. “Because you did the task I asked Nethi will be in later to provide you some food. I really wish you would serve me Anakin. Then we can stop this pain.”

I say nothing, and absently wonder which pain she is referring to. My eyes are looking down, watching the bottom of her shift as it moves against her legs.

She turns from me and walks from the room. I watch the bottom of her shift as it whispers against her legs as she leaves, my robe granting me more and more pain with her every step away.

The Mission

In the split second before he hit it, he knew he wasn't going to be able to stop and instead found himself sliding and rolling through the slippery warm green and red remains of a creature that had quite recently met its end at the hands of a unit of storm troopers. Standing up, he once more cursed his luck. He silently wonders why he had to have picked this mission on this planet. He knew of at least three others that he could have chosen, but no, he had to pick this one.

As he slings the goop off of his arms and legs, he picks up his carbine and starts stalking through the forest once more, looking for the enemy.

As he searches, he lets his personal thoughts and feelings intrude upon what he’s doing. He wonders what he, the youngest son of the Chief of State of the New Republic, is doing on this Force-forsaken planet hunting the enemy down. Especially when there are other important matters he needs to be taking care of.

Hearing a snap off to his left, he spins that way and fires twice in quick succession taking down one of the storm troopers.

As the red bolts of their blasters fly towards him, he dives back into the undergrowth, trying to find cover.

He can hear himself muttering curses under his breath.

He bounces up from his cover, and fires his blaster, and smiles at the sound of another storm trooper falling.

Then he is diving as Imperial fire flies through where he had just been. True to form on this mission, he dives directly back into the red and green carcass.

“Shavit!”

Realizing that he spoke aloud, he glances left and right hoping no one heard him.

From the underbrush steps four troopers. Each with their carbines at the ready, all with their carbines pointed at him.

Then there is an ear-shattering whine, and his vision goes white.

As his vision clears, he sees the stern face of his father.

“Anakin Solo! Did I not tell you to do your homework before you played this holo-game?”

“Yes sir.”

“Did you?”

“No sir.”

Sighing, Han shakes his head in frustration. “Go do your homework.”

Pleasure & Pain: Chapter Three

I hang in the dark, trying my best to ignore the pain and shocks and thirst. I try to ignore my hungers.

Yet as I hang there with my eyes closed visions of Lumiya, Aunt Mara, and Tahiri flow before my mind’s eye. They are mixing becoming one entity. I dismiss thoughts of my own insanity.

As those visions and thoughts flow through my head, I feel an odd sensation. A hand has grasped my leg, and a semi-moist sand papery feeling thing is rubbing down the other side.

It really is an odd sensation, one that makes me think of home, of happier times. Of childhood. I know I have felt it before, so I focus on what it is, what it means.

Then I realize what it is. I can feel someone giving me a sponge bath. I open my eyes, and look down. There kneeling before me is a Yuuzhan Vong. Not the one I spat on when I first awoke, but a different one, another one that I can feel in the Force. She’s holding some type of sea sponge, and washing my legs. I feel a surge of lust and power flow through me at her posture and bearing.

I watch her, as she carries out her task. Dip in the water. Slowly rub down my leg. I notice that she wears the same type of shift as Lumiya; I also note that she appears to be around my age, or at least the age I was when I died, maybe a few years older, at most 20 standard years.

Her black hair is long and loose, covering her shoulders.

I can only assume she feels my stare, because she lifts her head and looks into my eyes. I notice she has green eyes as well. A green I could get lost in. Warm where Lumiya’s are cold. I frown as I look at the three scars on her forehead, wondering where I had seen them before. When my mouth goes dry, it has nothing to do with dehydration.

I find the scars strangely compelling. I think I want to kiss them.

“What’s your name?” I notice that my voice is not nearly as gritty as it had been while talking to Lumiya.

She smiles at me, and I notice that she has no scars on her lips. “I am called Nethi Kwaad.”

Her voice is sultry, causing me to shiver.

For some reason, I am happy that her lips are unscarred. I have seen to many warriors with frayed lips. Of all the wounds and scars they did to themselves, the Yuuzhan Vong desire to cut and flay their lips was one that caused me the most confusion.

Maybe it’s because all the women I have loved have full, supple lips.

She stands, and lowers my robe, causing all of those little daggers to slowly pull from my skin. I can almost feel her smile as she does this, at the fact that I don’t scream at the pain.

Oddly, I am smiling as well.

She walks around me, and I can feel her begin her ministrations to my back. I consider it. It is a very sensual feeling. One of subservience. I idly wish that my restraints were loosened, so I could turn to see her again.

She finishes my back, and moves back in front of me, her head lowered. I briefly wonder if she’s acting coy.

She raises her head, and captures my gaze. Then runs her hand through my hair; her face inches from mine. “You pleased Lady Lumiya immensely today Anakin.”

I find myself shivering once more, as she gently bites my lip.

I close my eyes to the sensation, and unbidden an image of my Tahiri rises up in my mind’s eye. I see her blonde hair flashing in the golden light of Tattooine’s sun. How it felt when she would bite my lip in a similar manner. I hear myself whisper, “Tahiri.”

Nethi’s blow swings my face around; I can feel the sting, the pain. I can taste the blood from my cracked lip.

Her eyes flare with defiance. “You would do well to remember who is around you. Lady Lumiya may allow you to mention that Jeedai with such impunity, but I will not.”

She then walks back behind me. I briefly wonder if she’s going to continue giving me a sponge bath.

As she drops the first of the slimy things on my back, I realize probably not.

I control my shivers of disgust as the things begin sliding around my back.

I bite my tongue, to hold in my scream, as the things begin to bite me.

She walks back in front of me, and roughly pulls my head back by my hair. Her green eyes flashing fire and anger. “We could have had fun together, but you had to go and bring her up. You had to start the pain again.”

She shakes her head in disgust and releases my head, which slumps forward, my chin to my chest.

I can feel the slimy things, with their simple mission: move, bite, release, repeat.

I hear myself sob. “I’m sorry.”

Move, bite, release, repeat.

My heart sinks as Nethi lifts the container of water, and dumps it upon my head. “Think next time.”

Move, bite, release, repeat.

My heart sinks even further as she says one final thing, her voice a hiss. “Dummy.”

Move, bite, release, repeat.

As Nethi walks away, I once more notice that where the robe covers my skin, the pain increases. I wonder which one is worse, what my body is feeling or what my heart is.

The things on my back ignore her leaving, as they do the screams that finally erupt from my lips.

Move, bite, release, repeat.

Pleasure & Pain: Chapter Two

My restraints hold me aloft, immobile. I am angled so that I have to force my head up to see straight ahead. If I relax into the restraints, I see a nice view of the floor, and the repulser-style mechanism which keeps me lifted off the ground.

I feel weak and weary. My pain and thirst are my only companions. When I last felt like lifting my head to look at my surroundings I was subject to dizzy spells. But it has been hours since I had even felt like lifting my head, let alone actually done it.

When Lumiya kisses my forehead, I shiver from the coolness of her lips, I dredge up the energy to lift my head and open my eyes to stare into her green ones.

“Please Anakin, serve me, so that your pain can end, it hurts me so to see you suffer in this way.”

Her eyes are pleading, sorrowful. They make my heart jump.

I lick my lips, and can feel how cracked they are. My mouth is dry, and my tongue has begun to swell.

My voice is gritty, and as I speak, I wonder how long it has been since I’ve had something to drink. “I won’t kill Tahiri.”

Again, that predatory smile appears on her face as she turns from me and walks out of the room.

I wonder if this pain will be all I know until death finally takes me.

I wonder how it will feel to die from dehydration.

She returns mere moments later, followed closely by what appears at first glance to be a child. I look closer and recognize it to be a droid, one designed to be a playmate for the children of the rich and powerful.

I remember asking mom for one when I was five.

She sets something on the table beside me and I look at it, and think it the most beautiful thing in the world. It’s a simple glass of water, the condensation already beading up on it. I can even begin to smell the water in the air.

“We will try an even simpler task this time. For the glass of water, destroy this droid.”

I look at her green eyes once more, and am distracted as her tongue darts out over her lips.

“Why?”

“Why not? It’s just a droid after all.”

I force myself to focus on her eyes, and ignore how moist her lips seem. “How am I to destroy it?”

“With the Force of course. Use the pain you are feeling to give you power. Rip its arms off with your mind. I’m sure you can do it.”

“But you said to not use the Force for such mundane things.”

As I say it, I belatedly remembered that regardless of how much she looked like her, this wasn’t Aunt Mara in front of me. Lumiya for her part, only smiles that predatory smile. I notice as her eyes flicker up and down my body.

I lower my head again, my eyes traveling down her body, lingering on the edges of her shift.

I reach out to the Force, touching it, glorifying in it. I close my eyes and see everything, the dark oily presence of Lumiya and the spark that is the droid.

I bend the Force to my will, and deactivate the droid.

I open my eyes, and notice that I’m panting, exhausted. “There.”

I look to the glass of water, and see it gone.

Frowning, I look towards Lumiya, and she has it, and has just finished taking a large drink from it. I watch as a drop of water slides down her chin and drops to the floor.

I am mesmerized by that drop of water.

“The droid is not destroyed. Destroyed means not easily fixed.”

I look at Lumiya, the fire flashing in her eyes, and turn my attention once more towards the droid.

“Fine.”

I look at the droid, at how it is put together, and then I rip it to pieces with the Force. I start with the outer shell, and work my way in. Removing and separating every piece possible. I block all other sensations out of my mind, and focus on taking that droid apart.

When I finally remove the power supply, and the sound had gone away, do I realize that there had been screaming. I played the past few moments over again, and realized that the droid had screamed for mercy and for me to stop the entire time.

And I had been so mesmerized by that drop of water, the need for it so great, that I had not cared.

No, it is not that I had not cared, but more like I had been happy as it begged for mercy. I was happy that its misery and wants were so similar to my own.

I drop the power supply, and glance around at the destruction I had caused. I can feel the despair over what I had done begin to creep up from my heart.

Then Lumiya steps up before me, lifts my head and kisses me. All concern for the droid disappears. The pain disappears. My body is tingling as her lips linger on mine; I can feel the lethargy that has been my companion for days start to lift.

If the restraints did not hold my arms immobile, I would have wrapped them around her.

Then the kiss is over, the pain does not return, but I still feel the occasionally, almost gentle, electrical shocks of my restraints, and she is placing the glass to my lips. I sip some and my throat clenches.

She rips a part of her shift off, making it that much shorter, revealing that much more of her legs, and dips it in the water, then places that in my mouth.

We continue like that for a while, her slowly caring for me, slowly giving me water, while I just watch the ripped flap of her shift as it moves with her every movement.

Finally, she lifts the glass to my lips again, and I can feel the coolness of the water as it slides down my throat.

I look at her, once more caught up in her green eyes as they dance with amusement, happiness. I feel my own spirits lift.

Once more, she smiles at me. She leans in, her breath warm on my ear, her voice a soft, silky purr. “You’ve made me very happy today Anakin.”

She caresses my cheek; her hand still feels like fire against my skin. She then turns and walks away from me, and I just watch. Even her walk is like Aunt Mara’s. Graceful, as much the gait of a dancer as it is of a fighter.

Absently I am aware of the fact that the further she gets away from me, the more pain I am in.

Pleasure and Pain: Chapter One

I awaken, and feel the confusion around me. I don’t understand what I’m seeing. There are pipes and smoke and other noises. It confuses me because the last thing I remember was the fire and death on the world ship around Mrykr. I have memories of Nom Anor trying to get the thermal detonator, of Tahiri’s pain and cries in the Force as I could feel the life blood draining from me, the Force slipping away from me.

I remember dying.

How did I come to be here? Where is here.

I sit up, and feel the jelly like substance still clinging to me. I shiver as I look down, noticing my nudity. I look around, still confused by my surroundings. Some part of me hoping to see her.

Then I see her, not the one I want to see, but someone else, someone cold and metallic, someone whose Force presence is a dark oily stain on my awareness. Her red hair is pulled up into a simple braid, and she’s wearing a shift not quite large enough to cover her modestly. In fact, it reveals more than it leaves to the imagination. “What, who are you?”

She just smiles at me, which sends shivers up my spine. “I am Lumiya. Welcome back to the land of the living young one.”

I stand, and revel in the feeling of wholeness that envelopes me and notice Lumiya staring at me, a predatory smile on her face. “What?”

She runs her hands down my arms, and I get goose bumps. I can’t help but notice the resemblance to Aunt Mara, the fiery red hair, the startling green eyes. I remember the playful relationship Aunt Mara and I had shared prior to my death. Thinking of it now, with Lumiya standing before me, it was an awkward relationship, equal parts hero worship and teenage lust.

Thoughts of Aunt Mara lend awkwardness to this situation, with this woman who reminds me so much of Mara. Then you factor in how she is dressed, and my current lack of clothes.

I can only assume the lust I’m feeling is natural.

Absently I note that her hands feel like fire on my bare skin.

She picks up a white robe, with somewhat unique green stitching on it. I watch as she lays it across my shoulders and then runs her hand down the front of it, closing the robe around me.

Then I scream.

The robe is digging into my skin, thousands of tiny needles, spearing into my pores, each a point of agony. Driving me to the ground.

Then her foot is upon my throat. “If you wish to live, then you must serve me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you do wish to live don’t you?”

Her smile turns dark, as a female Yuuzhan Vong comes up beside her. I gasp at the realization that I can feel this Vong in the Force. The Vong leans down close to me. I shiver as she whispers in my ear, “Jeedai, you know you would like to serve Mistress Lumiya, she brought you back to life, and she can give you so many wonderful things. Including a release from this pain.”

I just spit in the Vong’s face.

I feel them binding my arms and legs, and the pain as it slowly and inexorably attacks my sanity.

Hours pass, maybe even days. I have no way of knowing. All I know is the torment that the robe provides, the random electric shocks from my arm and leg restraints, and the burning of my thirst.

Once more, Lumiya is in front of me, her voice silky and soft as she whispers in my ear, “It hurts me to see you suffer so, just say you will serve me, and your pain will be taken away. I know; you can start with something simple. Start with a single, simple, little task for me.”

I look at her, dreading what she would ask of me, knowing that if I value my sanity I must stop this pain. “What?”

“Kill this Jedi.” As she says those words, she activates a small hologram and my heart drops as it is displaying a picture of my Tahiri.

“Never!”

“So be it, if you like the pain you are feeling, you can stay here. Stay here until you do decide to take up my small meaningless task.” Her smile was once again predatory, and promising me both pleasure and pain. “After all, tomorrow is another day.”

Liquid Journey

Inspired by the magnanimous feeling suffusing the cantina, he stood atop his table and after the quiet rippled through the customers, he told the tale of his journey into the Unknown Regions where he had happened upon a celestial rainbow and followed it to a world of magical little people and mountains filled with wealth beyond imagination. He continued sipping the green concoction that his drinking buddies provided him as he spun his tale of wonderment and wealth out while all those around him, stared at him in amazement.

They were spellbound by his voice.

He had another gulp of the green beverage

They were amazed by his story.

He drank yet more of the green liquid.

He was eating up the adulation, the adoration. For the first time in months, if not years, he was enjoying himself. As he began to describe the celestial rainbow for the second time, is when he first noticed her. She was standing in the back, dark clouds gathering on her face as she watched his performance.

She was the only one to not be enthralled by his tale.

Of course that required he down the remainder of his drink, and reach for another from his companions.

Then of course, she had to ruin it.

He could have handled her presence; just her being there did not hamper the story, or its effect on those around him. In fact, if anything, her presence made him happier. After all, she is the love of his life.

No, she ruined the story in another way. She ruined it in a simpler and much more direct way.

She threw an overripe redfruit.

Of course his drinking companions were of no help. The sticky, fruit glop running down his face just sent them into hysterics. He glared at them, a stare that had caused hundreds if not thousands of trainees and junior officers scurrying from his path.

By now, the entire cantina was laughing at him.

He decided he needed another swallow, a large one, of the green liquor.

The laughter is the only thing he could think of which would cause her to throw yet another redfruit at him.

As he wipes away the fruit compote from his eyes, he sees that she is now standing at the foot of his table, looking up at him. “Wedge Antilles get down here right now!”

“Intelligence does not give orders to Starfighter Command.”

As soon as he says it, he realizes that it was not the right thing to say. So he resorts to the green liquid for the courage he needs to be able to once more look Iella in the eyes. When he does look to her his eyes widen in surprise, for he sees her brandishing her blaster and stunning his two companions.

The anger in her eyes is the last thing he sees as she turns her blaster onto him and unconsciousness overtakes him.

Melting Ice

Nobody was really surprised when it happened, not really, not on the subconscious level where savage things grow. I know I wasn’t. I expected the betrayal ever since the mission to “stop the Chiss.” I warned everyone that would listen, and when my warnings feel on deaf ears, I did what I could to change what was happening.

I did what we were being told a good Jedi did, I obeyed what I saw as the Will of the Force.

My reward? I was sent to this mudball, with just Tesar and Lowbacca as company.

I could feel the Force in shreds from all the missing Jedi. It is a weeping, gnashing feeling in the base of my soul.

There are fewer and fewer Jedi out there now. I close my eyes, and see them, a few bright spots in the Force, and one dark black hole. A smudge across the canvas of the Force.

I’m sitting here, on a patch of almost dry mud, meditating, watching one of those few Jedi who happen to be left. Watching as that dark black hole gets closer and closer to the Jedi.

And with a wail the Force lets me know that yet another Jedi has fallen. I probe the Force and it whispers to me that it was Zekk who has died, who has become one with the Force, years before he was supposed to.

The Yuuzhan Vong in me can’t seem to find the tears to cry for him, for any of them.

Time passes fast here at times, and at times, it seems that each second draws on for eons.

As I watch each Jedi fall in the Force, it’s one of those times when the hours and days pass by in an eye-blink. I have known for days now that there is the last Jedi heading this way. I assume he is hoping to find sanctuary, or maybe he’s merely looking for help.

Of course, I know something that he obviously doesn’t. The Dark One is right behind him.

I stand up, and face the west. The west, which is the direction from which they both are coming and I can feel them coming. Feel the familiarity in the Force.

I can feel my face as it curls into a smile, as the Jedi arrives.

Yet as he pushes through the undergrowth, my smile dies away. I was totally not expecting him to be the Jedi. I never expected Jacen to be the one that was doing the running. He was running to us of all people, the Exiles who were banished because we dared to question his intentions.

I watch, awestruck, as he collapses at my feet, gasping for breath. He lifts his head, his cocoa colored eyes boring into mine and he gasps out a single word. “Run.”

Yet I cannot. Because I can feel the dark one, and it is coming. It is almost here. I’m too afraid to run, and too afraid to stay here.

Then he steps through the brush. My eyes lock with his ice-blue ones. A blue I knew as closely and as well as the blue of the Tatooine sky. Blue eyes that I have dreamed about every night for almost a decade now.
I can feel my heart breaking as he does not recognize me, doesn’t care one bit about who I am.

I hear a throbbing noise, not sure if it’s my heart, some insect, or his ignited saber.

My own voice is raw and filled with pain, and I can feel the tears in my eyes. “Anakin?”

I walk around Jacen, and start to run towards him. I’m absently aware of Jacen saying something.

I throw my arms around him, as I feel a cold fire in my gut. It’s a burning sensation, which makes breathing hard.

I look down and see the blood red blade that Anakin is holding sticking through my stomach.

I playback what Jacen had been saying, and I pay attention to the words this time. “No, Tahiri! It’s not Anakin. It’s a Vong construct, based off of Anakin’s cells, designed to kill Jedi.”

I reach out and touch the smooth skin of his face, and my voice is weak and raspy. “I love you, dummy.”

As I go to become one with the Force, I’m staring at those ice-blue eyes, and see them begin to melt.

Play It, Sam

“Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By.’”

Her voice cuts across the cantina. Clear and concise, it sounds as out of place here as she looks in her Jedi Robes. The musician in the corner, starts playing a smooth melody, as out of place in this cantina as she is.

Every being in this shallow dive near the borders between the GFFA and the Unknown Regions is staring at her.

Some stare because even in the frumpy, unflattering Jedi robes, she is stunning. Hair the color of finely polished wroshyer wood, eyes the color of Whyrren's Reserve. She is an angel walking among the every day mortals of this backwater world.

Others stare because of what the robes she wears means for them. Be it protection or punishment, depending on who you are and what you are doing, a Jedi can deal out either at any time. She is a Jedi, the guardians of peace and justice for the Alliance.

Every being stares, but one man’s stare is hard and cold.

She sits on a stool at the bar and orders a lomin ale, as she slowly sips it, he walks up and leans against the bar beside her. Pointedly he does not look at her.

“What are you doing here Jaina?”

She looks at him, sees the pain and anger on his face, the scar above his eye, which has now been joined by one on his cheek. She feels that old longing, the one that she always felt back during the war whenever she was near him. The one she feels every night as she dreams of him.

“You made it clear to me last time I saw you that you never wanted to talk to me again, yet here you are, trying to start up a conversation. Of course I would work on your pickup lines.”

She watches as he picked up nut after nut from a dish on the bar, and crushes them between his fingers. The fine dust slowly drifts to the bar, forming a small pile in front of him. “You walked into here Jaina, there must be a dozen cantinas within a klick of the spaceport, and you come in here. Didn’t your vaunted self-righteous Jedi-ness sense me in here?”

Her laughter once more cuts through the sounds of the cantina, attracting the attention of those who worry over the fact that a Jedi is even here. “Believe it or not, not everything revolves around you Jagged.”

“Sithspit.”

“Such language, I know that Baroness Fel raised you better than that.”

The patron on the far side of him jumps as Jag slams his fist on the bar. “I didn’t want to see you again. Yet here you are.”

Jaina feels her heart fall at his statement, at the vehemence at which he says it. “Did you ever consider that maybe I wanted to see you?”

She watches as he takes up his solemn task of crushing the nuts. She touches his hand and softly says “I just wanted you to know that I am sorry. Sorry for what I said right after the Vong War, sorry for what I did during the Swarm War. Most of all, I’m sorry I let us end.”

She wipes away the tears that had gathered in her eyes, and throwing a few coins on the bar gets up and starts to leave. He continues to not look at her; all he does is continue to turn the nuts into a fine dry powder.

She pauses in the doorway, and without looking over her shoulder says “I loved you Jag. I, I still do.”

Then as suddenly as she had come in, she was gone.

Jagged Fel sits for a moment longer, and then gets up and walks out. The bartender walks over and wipes up the mess that Jag had left, a pile of crushed nuts, with the consistency of mud.

Acceptance

Leaving only memories of the innocents who dwelt in its path, the darkened mist left the village square, to continue its mission of seeking out the one who will elude death no longer. It spread out, going house to house, searching, seeking, and trying to find the one it longs for. It leaves only bad dreams and pain. Each house it visits, the occupants are left cold and shuddering, the sweat of nightmares collecting on their brows.

Finally it comes to the final house. Within it can sense the one it has been searching for, longing for.

From the mist, a form appears. It is a dark form, wrapped in cloaks of despair and nightmares, it pushes open the door. It is ready for this. The path to acceptance lies through that portal.

Looking around, he takes in the scene around him, the cheerful décor, the still holos of family. Grim amusement comes rolling forth from him, as he picks up a vase and lets it fall to the floor to shatter.

With a sudden snap-hiss, the dark room is flooded with a bright green light. In the corner, sitting in a chair is an ancient man, his skin withered from age, his hair, thin and grey, with the appearance of being wind blown, even within the climate control building.

“So, you have finally come for me have you? What? Was your master to feeble to come kill an old man himself?”

He merely laughs. When he decides to speak to the old man, his voice is low and guttural, and causes cold shivers to swim up the old man’s back. “No, my Master thought it best for me to kill you myself. After all, you are the final link to who I was. Once you are gone, I will be who I was meant to be.”

“Not who you were meant to be youngling, just who that fool you call a master convinced you to be. Now, are we going to sit here and talk all night?”

He feels confusion, unsure of what to do. He knows he should complete the mission. To do so means acceptance, a chance to fully become a Sith. Yet still, he hesitates, he almost feels an eagerness to continue the discussion. “So eager to die are you?”

“I am not afraid of death, in fact I long for it, to be one with the Force. It has been to many years since I’ve seen her.”

He watches the smile that covers the old man’s face at the thought of his beloved bride. The dark one remembers back to when his Master killed her, and the rage and pain that caused him and the cold calm acceptance with which the old man accepted her death.

“You worry today that it has been so long since you have seen her, yet I remember when she was killed, you did not care.”

“In that you are wrong youngling. When Jacen killed his aunt, it hurt me deeply, that was my mortal wound, I have been dying slowly ever since. Remember, I lost my wife, and my son turned from me all on the same day. You, my son, were just too wrapped up in his lies and your own hate to realize it.”

He looked at this shell of a man, and saw him for what he truly was, an old man who had fought too many battles, and lost one thing to many.

He watches as the old man stands, and hobbles towards him. The old man extinguishes his blade and tosses it aside. In his confusion, Ben is unsure of what to do, what to say, but his father knows, as he wraps his son in a hug.

Luke Skywalker pulls back slightly, keeping his hands on his shoulders and looks at his beloved son and says “I always accepted you Ben, I always loved you. Now, it is time for me to sleep. If you wish to complete your mission, I’ll be upstairs in my room. It’s the first door on the right. If you wish to stay the night, the guest room is the first door on the left.”

Ben watches his father, once more lost to confusion as he says “Dad what can I do?”

“The choice has always been the same; you can do what is right or what is wrong. Good or evil. I cannot make that choice for you. Jacen cannot make that choice for you. Only you can make that choice. But know this son; I am proud of you regardless. If we’re both still here in the morning, I’ll make para-rolls for breakfast.”

Ben watches as his father finishes his climb up the stairs and turns into his bedroom, leaving the door cracked open. Ben calls his father’s lightsaber to his hand and ignites it. Then he pulls the saber that his cousin gave him and ignites that one as well. He stares at the two blades, one the green of a Jedi, the other the red of a Sith. He considers the meanings of this, the meanings of choices. He considers the acceptance of the love of a father for his son, and the acceptance of a Sith Master for his apprentice.

He wonders what is good and evil and extinguishes the sabers.

Finally making up his mind, he climbs the stairs, and turns left.