A Life Not His Own: Chapter 10

Nelani can feel frustration surge through her. She has been trying to assemble her lightsaber for over a week now. The mechanical components fit perfectly together, and the slot designed for the focusing crystal is the perfect size for the lambent.

Yet once assembled, it fails to actually work.

She has disassembled and reassembled it four times, and each time the saber refused to charge, refused to emit that beam of coherent light. When she tries to season the weapon with the Force, it flows through the mechanical aspects and bypasses the lambent entirely.

She can feel the lambent whispering its song in her mind, but not the Force, and she can feel the pieces of the saber in the Force.

But when she tries to sense the saber as a whole, she fails.

She leans back in her chair, thinking of the lessons Lord Vader had given her on saber construction. As she closes her eyes, meditating she can almost hear his deep mechanical voice.

“The lightsaber as a weapon is greater than the sum of its parts. In the hands of a trained Force user, it becomes an extension of that Jedi’s will, and abilities. It becomes as much a part of you as your hand or foot.”

She suddenly leans forward in her chair, a small smile coming to her lips. The Vong biot can’t be felt in the Force, but she can hear it. The other components she can’t hear, but can feel in the Force.

Then she has an epiphany. She understands the problem. Her lips twist into a full smile, and she almost laughs out loud. The connection between the two is within her, not within the physical parts of her saber. She is the joining agent between the inanimate materials, and the Vong biot.

The smile still pasted to her lips, she begins assembling the pieces once more. Once all the parts are in place, she reaches out with the Force, bathing the saber within the warm accepting glow which is the Force; she opens herself up to it, drawing it around her, to her.

She flicks the switch to begin recharging the power supply and closes her eyes. As she focuses the Force, she also talks to the lambent, encouraging it to become a part of the metal around it.

She feels the Force flow through the weapon, melding it, changing it, and merging its pieces. She is amazed at how the Force works, modifying the weapon on a molecular level.

Then she realizes that the same thing is happening to her. Making changes to how she acts and reacts, deepening her trust of the Force. She wonders if this is what it means to be a Jedi.

Then the world falls away, and she realizes that she is no longer sitting in her chair, the disparate parts of her saber are no longer in her hands. Now it is whole. A smoothly polished cylinder, held loosely in her hand.

She looks around, and finds herself in smoky darkness. Nothingness surrounds her. Then she hears a sound from behind her and she spins around.

Before her stands a figure in a dark cloak, an evil and menacing air is around her, and Nelani takes an instinctive step back away from the figure. Her thumb moves to the activation plate of her saber.

Her voice wavers. “Who’s there?”

The voice is low and menacing and definitely feminine. “You know who I am.”

Nelani shakes her head. “No, I don’t. Step closer so I can see you.”

The figure steps closer, and lowers the cowl of her cloak, revealing luxurious dark black hair, and Nelani’s facial features, except they are older, more mature. But what startles Nelani the most, is the figure’s eyes, one is the ice-blue of her own color, the other is a sickly yellow tinged with red.

“Is this close enough for you?”

She quickly nods her head, and when the figure smiles at her, Nelani has the overwhelming desire to scream.

“Good. I shall tell you this once. You are a shatter point. One way, you shall be a slave to the Dark Side, the other a servant to the Light Side. Soon you will have to make a choice and a stand.”

“I don’t understand.”

The figure starts to disappear. “Remember this, in the darkest of times, the smallest of lights shine brightest and are the easiest to snuff.”

Then the figure is gone, and Nelani finds herself sitting once more in her chair, the saber she built held lovingly in her hands. She stands, feeling a few of her joints crack, and takes a step back from her desk.

She holds the saber out in vertically in front of her, and thumbs the ignition switch. A snap-hiss, followed by the steady thrum of a lightsaber greets her ears. She opens her eyes to find herself staring at a lightsaber blade without color, just a shining shaft of bright, clean, white light.

She swings the blade, a smile growing on her face as the weapon’s thrum changes as it moves through the air.

She shuts down the saber, and rushes out into the common area, searching for her master. “Lord Vader!”

He looks up from the datapad held in his hands. “Yes?”

With her smile still plastered on her face, she holds her saber up for his inspection. He takes it from her hand, nodding his head as he looks over the weapon. Then he holds it out, and ignites the blade. His gasp at its appearance overrides the normally steady breathing. “I’ve never seen this color before. Well done Nelani.”

He shuts down the weapon and holds it out to her. She lovingly takes the weapon, a blush creeping on her cheeks at his praise. “Thank you Master.”

As he returns to his datapad, she wishes once again he would remove his mask.

-----------------------------------------

Jaina is in the pagoda, her legs crossed, her eyes shut as she floats half a meter above the ground. She is pulling her emotions and feelings in tight, wrapping them up into durasteel and then locking them away.

She is tired of being hurt by death.

She sighs as her physical body intrudes on her meditations, and tries to push the distraction away. A moment later it comes again, someone rubbing something soft and tickly on her cheek.

The distraction is enough this time, and she feels herself drop the half meter to the ground. She lets out a low growl of frustration and pain as she looks up to see who had been annoying her. She finds herself staring at Kyp Durron.

He gives her a big smile, which Jaina is certain is fake.

“What do you want, Durron?”

“Just to talk.”

She cocks an eyebrow, trying to figure the older Jedi out. “What? Don’t have any friends?”

Kyp barks a laugh. “No, it’s nothing like that; I wanted to talk to you about Jedi stuff.”

Jaina leans back, trying to figure out what he is going on about. “Sure, what did you want to talk about?”

Kyp looks off towards the distance for a second. “I want you to think about something, don’t answer right now, but think about it.” He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’d like you to become my apprentice.”

“What?!”

Kyp laughs. “Well, you’ve not been able to spend a lot of time around Master Skywalker, and she’s been doing more things with Anakin anyways. It seems like you still need some training, and someone out here, fighting the Vong like you have been, needs someone out here doing the same. You need someone like you.”

Jaina frowns, the skin tightening around her eyes, as they close slightly. “And that someone is you?”

Kyp nods his head, and she looks around for something to throw.

Unable to find something she shakes her head, and says through clenched teeth, “I don’t think so.”

Kyp stands up. “I’m not taking your answer right now. Think about it, and come to me when you’ve made up your mind for real.”

“Aunt Mara is my master.”

Kyp shrugs his shoulders. “Whatever you say, Princess. But ask yourself this, if she’s your master, why is she always teaching Anakin?”

Then he turns from her, and starts walking down the steps of the pagoda. Jaina, lost in thoughts over Kyp and his proposition, ignores his leaving.

She settles back down, frustration and confusion welling up within her. She tries to meditate, and lets out a low growl - which quickly turns into a scream when she is unable to calm her mind enough to do so.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The pain spikes, and then another cortex expands before her, an Eighth Cortex. As the pain fades away, Nen Yim gasps in awe as she delves into the new cortex.

There arrayed before her are the weapons which have been handed down at the beginning of the war.

Then her heart falters, and her hope falls away. A handful of new weapons, a dozen or so new tricks, that is all that the Eight Cortex contains. That feeling of dead and static knowledge once more falls upon her as she wonders how her people will survive when they cannot innovate new weapons and defenses against the Infidels.

She allows her consciousness to wander around the Cortex, hoping to find something, anything.

It’s empty!

Her mind cries that out over and over again. The sum totality of Yuuzhan Vong knowledge is useless. The Infidels can already match every item within the Eighth Cortex, and they produce new weapons and tactics constantly.

She returns to her body, the despair following her from the Qang Qahsa. As she opens her eyes, she finds herself looking into the demented gaze of Kae Kwaad.

He looks at her for a moment more and then cackles a laugh. “So, you have found our greatest and most shameful secret. The hidden Eighth Cortex. You understand.”

Nen Yim leans back in her chair-biot. “Yes, I understand. There is nothing left. While we may defeat the Infidels initially, they will ultimately defeat us, as they are not restricted in what they can devise.”

She closes her eyes, and utters another phrase, “Mezhan Kwaad.”

Nothing happens; Nen Yim frowns as she looks towards the basket of mature grutchin. Kae follows her gaze. “I assume that was the trigger for the grutchin you altered. I took the precaution of destroying them.”

His smile is enough to turn Nen Yim’s stomach, as she seriously considers throttling the insane Master with her bare hands.

Kae stands. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

Kae holds out his hands to either side. “My dear Nen Tsup, must you always question everything? Why? Why? Why! Why not? Besides, you are not truly in a position to deny my commands now are you my dear heretic?”

Nen Yim sighs and stands as well, once more pushing off her desire to kill him. “Where are we going?”

Kae laughs again. “Why, to see Shimmra of course.”

Nen Yim’s heart plummets, and dread takes root in her soul. As he walks past her personal artifacts, he grabs her qahsa and tosses it at her. “You will need this I believe.”

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Yal Phaath watches as his voxyn hunts the infidels. It does not matter the terrain or the prey, the voxyn succeeds.

He grins as one of the infidels is impaled by one of the many spikes found on the voxyn’s tail, knowing that the flesh eating bacteria which infect those spikes will ensure he dies horrifically, even if the voxyn doesn’t kill him itself.

He turns towards the Executor who stands silently beside him watching the voxyn perform. Yal Phaath smiles at Nom Anor.

“So, do you appreciate our efforts now, Executor?”

Nom Anor looks at him. “They perform admirably against the normal Infidels, but you have yet to test them against the Jeedai. I will not believe their abilities until they are past that test. If they do not succeed against Jeedai, then they are a gross misuse of resources. The Vagh Rodiek are being created, and their early tests show them much better at destroying normal infidels.”

Yal snarls at Nom Anor. “Are you challenging me, Executor?”

Nom Anor shakes his head, an oddly human gesture. “Not at all Master Shaper. I’m just withholding judgment, until I see proof.”

“The Warmaster has promised me Jeedai to be hunted. The other possible solution is to send it on out to the field, and have it hunt them there.”

Nom Anor strokes his chin, and turns back towards the shaper. “That is a possibility, and I believe I know exactly how to do that for you. Now, while you are here around this planet, I have a second item that you might wish to look into.”

Yal’s headdress twists into a sign of interest. “What is that?”

“The ysalamri, the food of the vonskyrs, have the unique ability to strip a Jeedai of their powers. Their drawback is that they are to bulk to carry. I want one that we can hand out to our warriors.”

Yal grins. “An interesting challenge. I will look into this.”

Nom Anor grins as well. “Then this has been a profitable visit.”

Greater Than the Sum of Their Parts: Chapter Two

Tahiri settles onto the couch in the Master’s outer office, the secretary having already announced her. The blonde Jedi takes a moment to watch the Bith as she softly whistles commands to her console. Her eyes brighten at the thought of a new way to interface with the ungainly machines.

She is just about to get up and ask the secretary if she could learn the whistle code, when she senses a bubbling fount of Force energy heading towards the office. Tahiri looks towards the door, and watches as Noelani bounds into the room, her outer-cloak flapping behind her. Upon seeing Tahiri seated on the couch, she pulls herself to a stop, straightening, a blush coming to her cheeks.

“Sorry I’m late Master.”

Tahiri stands and lays a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You’re not late Noelani, and never apologize for being yourself.”

“Master Skywalker will see you now.”

Tahiri turns towards the secretary, and bobs her head, gesturing for Noelani to follow her. She enters the Office to find Master Skywalker and his wife sitting on one of the pair of couches in a corner of the office.

Luke stands and turns towards them as Noelani enters the room, and his face falls into a show of utter disbelief and shock.

Then as quickly as Luke’s face turned to disbelief, it flickers back into his normal smiling features.

Tahiri polls the Force, sensing nothing out of the ordinary, and gives an internal shrug, assuming she is imagining things, that it’s just her nerves over taking an apprentice.

Then Luke speaks. “Tahiri, Noelani, come join us over here.”

Tahiri sits down on the couch opposite of the Jedi Masters, and Noelani settles herself beside her, her nervousness pooling in the Force, so Tahiri sends her calm and comforting thoughts.

Luke looks between them both, and for a second, Tahiri wonders if she had done something wrong.

“I want you both to understand just how important the Master-Apprentice relationship is. Tahiri, you will be responsible for everything Noelani does until she is Knighted and you will be responsible for ensuring that she becomes a Jedi. Do you understand and accept these responsibilities?”

“Yes, Master I do.”

Luke slowly nods his head, and then focuses onto Noelani. “Noelani, you are to learn what Tahiri teaches you. To obey her in all things. You are responsible for yourself, to ensure that you learn what you need to become the Jedi you will one day be. Do you understand and accept these responsibilities?”

Noelani bobs her head, a quick gestures of acceptance. “Yes, Master!”

Tahiri watches the girl, a ghost of a smile on her face.

Luke leans back slightly, settling into the couch. “Have you heard lately from Huf?”

Noelani nods her head. “Yes, he sent me a message a few days ago. Said the harvest was going fine, and that Lok got in trouble in Anchorhead again. And that the garage there had an explosion, took out all the most of the spare vaporator parts that Ms. Camie had in storage there.”

The console on Luke’s desk chimes, and Luke walks over to it and punches a few keys. He glances first at his wife, and then towards Tahiri and Noelani.

“Girls, I’m sorry that we can’t continue this discussion, but something has come up that Mara and I need to attend to.” He picks up a data chit, from the desk, and returns to the couches.

Passing the chit to Tahiri he smiles. “This is the keycode and room assignment for one of the larger quarters here at Ossus. It seems appropriate that we house apprentices with their Masters. May the Force be with you both.”

Tahiri stands and bows, with Noelani quickly following her actions. Together they walk from the room, Tahiri smiling happily.

As they leave the outer office, Tahiri wraps her arm around Noelani, and grins down at the young girl. “So did you ever expect to have an old lady like me for a roommate?”

Noelani looks up at her, her face screwed up in thought. “But you’re not that old.”

---------------------------------------------------

Luke continues to stand as he watches Tahiri and Noelani leave the room. As soon as the door is shut, he collapses onto the couch, covering his face with his hands.

Mara’s voice is soft and concerned. “Luke?”

Luke does not answer, just stands, and walks over to his desk, picking up the third data chit that was left over from his meeting with the three young Jedi this morning. There written in Mara’s precise handwriting is Tahiri’s name.

His fist clenches in anger, and his mechanical hand shatters the data chit. “Shavit.”

“Luke? Talk to me, what’s this about?”

“I gave Tahiri the wrong chit this morning. It had a list of potential apprentices for Jaina on it, rather than the list that I had prepared for Tahiri.”

Mara runs her hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him. “And what’s so bad about that.”

“Noelani. She shouldn’t be Tahiri’s apprentice.”

Mara’s hands drop away from his shoulders. “Why? They seemed well suited to me. In fact I don’t think I’ve seen Tahiri that happy since before Myrkr.”

Luke lets out a slight sigh and returns to the couch, dropping onto it, once more placing his hands over his face.

He feels the couch shift as Mara sits beside him. “Tell me what’s going on Luke. What is it?”

Luke lowers his hand and turns face to look Mara in the eyes. “You can’t tell this to anyone. Especially not to Tahiri and Noelani. Can you agree with that? Can you promise me that?”

Luke watches as Mara works through what she’s saying. Weighing things, evaluating his request. Finally she nods her head. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Luke sighs again, and lowers his eyes, turning away from Mara. “Remember shortly after Ebaq 9 when we felt Tahiri spike in the Force and then she went missing from her squadron? I went searching for her. Returned a week or so later.”

Mara slowly nods her head, and Luke can hear a hint of confusion in her voice. “Yes.”

“I told you that I couldn’t find her. That her fading happened so fast that I wasn’t able to discern where she really was.” Luke takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. “I lied.”

Luke can hear the definite confusion in her voice now. “So where was she?”

“A mining complex on Araxxis 3. In their med-ward.”

“Why was that so bad that you felt you had to lie to me about it?”

“It was the maternity section.”

Luke’s announcement hangs on the air, heavy and oppressive. He can hear Mara’s inhaling hiss of breath as she comprehends what Luke is saying. What Luke is admitting to having done.

“Noelani?”

Luke mutely nods his head.

“Tell me that she willingly gave up the baby.”

Luke slowly shakes his head. “No. I removed all memories she had of the pregnancy, and her child. Dropped her off on Mon Calamari, and took the baby girl to the Darklighter’s, Bigg’s parents, to raise, to adopt as one of their own. When I checked the apartment I had put Tahiri up in after dropping Noelani off, she was gone. I didn’t see her again until the night before our trip to the Unknown Regions.”

He feels the couch shift again, and looks up at Mara, just in time for her fist to connect with his face. The force of the punch knocks Luke off the couch, and he sprawls to the ground at Mara’s feet.

“You kriffing lying Sith! How could you do that to her?”

Luke sits up, rubbing his jaw. “I thought it was for the best. I thought she’d be happier this way. She was so young.”

Mara’s stare is cold and hard as she looks at him. She waves her hand in his direction making a guttural noise of disgust, and turns away, quickly walking from him. She pauses; her hand hovering over the door activation plate.

“Who’s the father?”

“Do you have to ask?”

Mara’s mouth tightens a bit, and she opens the door and leaves the room.

Themed Drabbles Set 15

Indifferent

Han sets the place setting in front of her. The perfectly prepared brullaki, the roasted duck with a berry relish, and the baked, sliced protatoes. He had spent a good two hours in the mess prepping this meal, and she looks at it so indifferently.

He wanted to impress her, to wow her. He wanted her to smile over his cooking some of her favorite foods.

He would have accepted disgust and scorn.

It’s just this indifference which breaks him.

She glances back up at him, her face that mask of apathy. “You did not cut the duck.”

He sighs.

---

Exhausted

She steps into the common room of their apartment, her back aching, her feet swollen, and her belly extended in this the thirty-sixth week of pregnancy. She rubs her hands over her belly, feeling her son inside there, twisting and moving. She takes another step into the room, and sees Han spread out on the couch, snoring lightly.

She frowns again, and walks closer to him. With a flicker of the Force, she yanks him off the couch. He lands with a yelp, and sits up suddenly his blaster in his hand.

She smiles innocently. “Is there something wrong Han?”

---

Hopeful

She stands over the crib where her latest son sleeps so peacefully. Han comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She places her hands on top of his and together they continue watching.

After a while, she leans her head against his. “There will be peace for him won’t there?”

“Of course there will be your Highnessness.”

“He’s just so strong in the Force, I’m afraid he might end up like Luke. Always running off into trouble.”

Han laughs. “Hey, he’s my kid.”

She twists in his arms, so that she’s facing him. “That’s why I’m really worried.”

---

Relaxed

The thrum of the Falcon’s engines reverberates throughout the common room. Han grins slightly, as Leia nestles deeper into his arms. He likes this - being here with her while the kids sleep in their compartment. Them just running off for a vacation.

No worries.

No politicians.

No danger.

For a moment, he wonders why they can’t be like other families and not have to worry about any of that stuff. Why she has to be the Chief of State, why his kids have to be Jedi.

He frowns, with the realization that he would not change any of it.

---

Restless

Leia watches Han on the couch; she doesn’t remember the last time he slept the whole night through.

A gentle touch on his shoulder causes him to flinch, and Leia instantly regrets not warning him that she was there. He looks up at her, his eyes filled with pain, the scars not quite faded. He displays a restless energy, as if he feels caged even in their apartment.

And after what Spaar did, it’s probably true.

She sits down on the couch, pulling his head onto her lap. She runs her fingers through his hair until he finally falls asleep.

A Life Not His Own: Chapter 9

Jaina Solo, Gavin Darklighter and Kyp Durron stand underneath a pavilion. Jaina looks around, seeing merely a grassy field as far as the eye can see, interrupted only by the grey speeder belonging to Gavin, and the two smaller brown speeder bikes which were piloted by Jaina and Kyp.

A few minutes later, another speeder pulls up, and General Wedge Antilles gets out. He nods his head, and returns Jaina’s and Gavin’s salutes. Then he turns towards Kyp and his hand drops to his blaster.

“There better be a very good excuse for him to be here.”

Jaina speaks up. “Sorry sir, but it’s his intelligence we’re bringing to you.”

Wedge frowns at her. “Are you sure it’s worth anything? And why wasn’t I told he would be here.”

Gavin takes a step forward. “I thought it worthwhile, and it was my idea not to tell you he would be here.”

Wedge looks between the two of them, and then turns on Kyp. “I don’t like you Durron, just sit over there, and don’t talk to me.”

Kyp opens his mouth to reply, but a quick kick from Jaina shuts him up. He looks down at her, and sees her staring up at him, a scowl clearly covering her face, telling him in no uncertain terms he should do this. He retreats to the corner indicated by Wedge and leans against a post, his arms crossed over his chest, as he continues to stare at Jaina.

Wedge glares at him for a moment more, and then turns to Gavin. “What’s so important that I had to come all the way out here?”

Gavin silently hands him a datapad. Wedge frowns, and plays the video, his face slowly losing color.

He looks between the two of them. “Is this real?”

Gavin nods his head. “As near as we can tell. You may recall that Rogue Squadron went through the system months ago, and we saw something strange then; I have to assume it was that thing in an early stage. We told them we needed to go in again, and either figure out what it was or destroy it. But the Senate refused.”

Wedge nods his head. “I remember that report.” He rubs at his chin, a thoughtful look on his face. “We’ll need more firepower than I can provide as a retired fleet officer. Let’s take this to Admiral Kre’fey.”

Wedge sighs, as he considers the various implications involved. Then he glances between Jaina and Gavin. “You two, stay here on planet and keep Durron here with you, or better yet, send him back to whatever rock he was hiding on. I’ll contact Kre’fey and have him come here to us.”

Wedge and Jaina salute, as Wedge turns around and gets back into his speeder. After a moment, Gavin turns towards Jaina. “I’ll heading back into town now, I have a few more things I will need to do before the Admiral arrives. I’ll contact you when Wedge gets in touch with me.”

Jaina salutes once more. Then she watches as both speeders disappear into the distance, and slowly turns towards Kyp. She fights back the urge to smack the smirk from his face.

As if reading her thoughts, his smirk grows slightly larger.

“So, while we’re waiting, shall we spar?”

Her eyebrow quirks and a grin threaten the corners of her mouth. “A reason to beat on you? I’d love to.”

Kyp laughs and slips out of his cloak as he walks down the steps of the pagoda, followed closely by Jaina.

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Yal Paath genuflects to the villip as it assumes the shape of the Warmaster Tsavong Lah. He straightens.

“Warmaster, to what do I have this honor?”

“I enquire after your project. I grow tired of these Jeedai running around. A lone one destroyed our garrison on Lorrd, and then showed up a third of a klekket later and defiled the coral skipper nurseries on Belkadan.”

“I understand Warmaster, and we are nearing completion of a prototype, yet we have not produced within it reproductive capabilities.”

Tsavong snarls. “Then clone it. I want the Jeedai taken care of.”

Yal Paath genuflects once more. “I obey Warmaster. If it may be possible to transport some Jeedai here for live trials against the creature, it would be most helpful.”

The warmaster nods his head. “I will see to it that we bring you some Jeedai for your trials.”

Yal bows his head once again. “Thank you Warmaster.”

As he straightens once more, he watches as the villip folds in on itself, hiding the visage of the Warmaster. Yal sighs, and then returns to his work, he opens his personal qahsa, and continues taking notes on which changes he believes are necessary to create the next generation of voxyn as an even deadlier animal.

As he works, he sneers in disgust at himself, at the taint of heresy which his machinations of the shaper protocols reek of. Yet he knows that without those minute changes, without those minor modifications to the protocols, his project would have failed.

And he would have been executed for his failure, his entire domain shamed.

He is no better than Mezhan Kwaad, is the thought that has ran through his mind for the past klekket.

He nods his head, knowing that once he has the voxyn perfected he will destroy this qahsa, destroy the proof of his heresy, even if it means that the queen will never be able to be recreated. He smiles as he makes the final genetic modification, and then plugs his qahsa into the vir’atok, the creature which reads a genetic blueprint from a qahsa and produces a live organism.

He sets that to perform its task, and goes to find Ch’roka Toh, the prefect in charge of Baanu Raas.

Yal finds the prefect in the control center. “Ch’roka.”

The prefect turns as Yal calls his name, and upon seeing the Master Shaper walks to him. “What can I do for you, Master Shaper?”

“Are the training grounds prepared?”

“Yes. But I must again reiterate that I do not like having that infidel trash and heresies on my worldship.”

“Good, we should have the first of our voxyn ready to run the grounds within two days. Also, the Warmaster will be sending us Jeedai slaves to test the voxyn against. As for the heresies, they are a necessary evil if we are to train the voxyn to hunt Jeedai.”

The prefect bows. “Very well Master Shaper. Thank you for keeping me informed, most especially when I will be able to remove those mechanical abominations from the Baanu Raas.”

The shaper turns and leaves, going once more to his work and his hidden heresy.

---------------------------------------------

The Warmaster and Vergere sit around the dejarik table. Unlike most dejarik tables, this one is a living creature. The other difference between other dejarik tables and this one is the fact that the creatures standing upon it are not holograms, but rather small live animals, custom designed for the Warmaster to play this game with his new familiar.

Tsavong Lah looks up from the remaining creatures as they face off against each other on the board. “This is a Jeedai game?”

Vergere bobs her head in affirmation. “Yes Warmaster. It originated within the Jeedai, but that was many centuries ago. Today it is treated as a great strategy game.”

As she is talking she moves her Ng’ok and has it kill Tsavong’s K’lor’slug, placing her in a position to win the round.

Tsavong sends his Grimtaash after her Ghhhk. “So tell me what you believe the Infidel’s next move shall be?”

Verger directs her Monnok into the center of the board, winning the round. She looks up at the warmaster from the table. “They will continue to collapse back towards the core, and once you have taken Coruscant they will scatter to the furthest reaches of the galaxy, performing rearguard and pirate actions until the Elite have shown them the True Way.”

“I have told you of the Baanu Raas Shaper project, and their request for Jeedai. What is your thoughts on this.”

Vergere bobs her head for a moment. “I would suggest capturing and sending this Jeedai in dark armor which terrifies intendents so. He has been a thorn in the Twv’ke’s paw since he appeared on Lorrd.”

The warmaster’s smile is dark and feral. “I like that idea little familiar.”

Tsavong Lah stands up and walks away, leaving Vergere sitting on her Vurruk covered mat, her dark, avian eyes staring after him.

----------------------------------------------------

Jakan sits in meditative repose, his coufee in one hand idly slicing circles upon his chest, as he ponders the great mysteries of Yun Yuuzhan.

He is the High Priest of the Yuuzhan Vong. Outside of the Supreme Overlord he is the being closest to the gods. It is his responsibility to ensure that the populace is keeping the faith, and staying far away from heresy.

It is literally his life on the line on that fact.

Of course, Jakan is a true believer. He is zealous in his protection of the faith, sincere in his belief that the True Way is the only way, and that followers of any other path must be sacrificed to the gods.

He lifts the coufee and places the point beneath his eye, slowly drawing it down.

There is a sickness among the Yuuzhan Vong. He knows this. He can feel this.

He hears the tinkle of kolot beetles, and opens his eyes to see the priest in charge of the Deception Sect, the highest follower of Yun Txun. He is dressed in his robes of office, a floor-length skinrobe, with purple vessels adorning it. The kolot beetles are attached along the bottom, making their noises with every step of the priest.

Jakan smiles up at him. “I hope you bring me good news Harrar.”

Harrar keeps his face impassive. “I bring news. We had a Yoric-Vec searching for clues as to what that black-clad Jeedai was doing, the one who destroyed the garrison on Lorrd.”

Jakan nods his head. “I understand.”

“We lost contact with them. Our last reports were they had went to Garqi. We sent more warriors, and this is what was found.”

He holds out a qahsa, which Jakan takes. He presses the activator nerve, and a Yuuzhan Vong script appears. Without realizing, Jakan reads it aloud.

“There is no shame in the lack of implants. There is no shame in hiding from pain. The shame is from the Elite who use us to do what they will not. The shame is upon the Elite for glorying while they force us to suffer. The Jeedai has shown us the way. For honor, we shall overcome. For honor, we shall rebel. For redemption. For the Jeedai.”

Horror flashes in his eyes as he looks up at Harrar. “Who else knows of this heresy?”

“None as of yet. The warriors who found and saw this have been silenced.”

“See to it, that it remains that way.” He sighs wearily and uses his hand to smear the blood from the cut on his cheek. “I must take this to Lord Shimmra.”

Harrar bows, and turns away. He leaves to the tinkle of the kolot beetles.

----------------------------------------------------

The Ilk’atko flies through the space between Nen Yim’s face and her qahsa. It slams against a nearby wall and splatters, showering Nen with sticky, warm goo. She lifts her attention from the qahsa in front of her towards the being who threw it at her. She suppresses a sigh.

“May I assist you Master Shaper?”

The old shaper hobbles towards her, holding the Qang Qahsa. He throws it to her, and she deftly catches it, looking from the sum of shaping knowledge towards her insane master.

He steps closer, and pokes her with one of his dead hands. “You will create me a new pair of Master’s hands.”

Nen Yim suppresses a smile. “I obey Master.”

Then Kae Kwaad spins and leaves the room. He leaves Nen Yim with a fully accessible Qang Qahsa.

She allows a smile to come to her face. Sitting the Qang Qahsa on the work surface before her, she accesses its data, plunging into the neural interface.

There is the Sixth Cortex, and the Master’s Hands and the dovin basils. She bypasses both, having no intention of creating hands for the insane shaper. With a flick of a mental switch, the Sixth Cortex fades away, to be replaced by the Seventh.

She smiles at the mind awing design of the worldships, and their brains. As she touches that knowledge, it rolls itself out for her, showing her holistically how the brain and worldship work together, how they’re assembled, and the potential for repair and regeneration. A lot of this knowledge she has gleaned for herself, but having it displayed this way, in its entireity, is instructive, as it shows her where her assumptions failed, and to her surprise, where her thoughts were better suited for the purpose. She frowns at that, pondering the meanings of it. Shaking away her musings she turns once more to the knowledge before her, seeking a way of regeneration for the brain.

A deep sense of failure settles over her as she realizes that there is no way to save the Baanu Miir.

She despairs.

Could this be all the knowledge of the Yuuzhan Vong? Could this be all that is available to the shapers? The dead and useless knowledge of millennia ago. Has nothing new been added to the Qang Qahsa since they have left their home galaxy?

These thoughts and more rush through Nen Yim’s mind as she considers the end of Yuuzhan Vong knowledge.

Then she realizes that there has to be more. There have been new weapons and new protocols handed down from the Supreme Overlord throughout the invasion. There must be additional information, other protocols within the Qang Qahsa.

She presses the Qang Qahsa, and it flickers, the Seventh Cortex falling away.

A deep, masculine voice booms through her consciousness, the Qang Qahsa has noticed her, its ancient intelligence awakened, by her probes.

“Go back.”

Hope flairs within her again. There should be nothing beyond the Seventh Cortex, yet the Qang Qahsa protects something.

She presses again, and pain shoots through her, a fire ripping through her mind, as the Qang Qahsa’s voice booms yet again. “Go back. There is nothing for you here. You are not allowed.”

The fire in her mind redoubles, and she screams out. “I am Nen Yim of the Yuuzhan Vong! Grant me access!”

Greater Than the Sum of Their Parts: Chapter One

Luke Skywalker watches the young Jedi hopefuls as they run around the training fields, the sounds of their feet pounding against the hard packed dirt of the track reaching up to the balcony where he stands and gazes out at the groups of students.

As he watches, he has a feeling of foreboding, as if something is approaching which threatens to consume the Jedi and the galaxy.

It is the Dark Man from his dreams.

A flicker of a frown crosses his face, and he shoves those concerns away. Of more immediate importance is the crisis with the Corellians, and how they’ve managed to almost get Centerpoint activated.

What Ben told him he found there.

An android that believed itself to be Anakin Solo.

An android that should not possibly exist, as all medical records of Anakin Solo were lost during the fall of Coruscant.

The soft chime of the door garners his attention, and he turns and walks back into his office even as the door opens.

Three Jedi Knights walk in, and give him short abbreviated bows. He smiles, and gestures towards a couch. “Please sit down.”

The three glance nervously between themselves and Luke has to chuckle. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. I just think it’s time to once more try to pair off the more advanced students to Jedi Knights for training. It’s working well with Jacen and Ben and I would hope you three would be willing to try as well.

The three share a look, and Knight Thann Mithric stands up. “I’d be quite willing to do this Master.”

Luke grins, and picks up a data chit and looks quickly at the label, making sure it has the correct name written on it and then passes it to him. “Look through these files, and choose one of the students listed there. Once you’ve chosen, ask that student if they would like to become your apprentice, if they agree, return with them to me.”

Thann takes the chit and leaves the room. Next to stand is Jaina Solo, as she tugs against her long brown hair she speaks almost hesitatingly, “I’m going to have to pass right now Uncle Luke. I don’t think I’m ready for an apprentice just yet.”

Luke looks at her for a moment, and then nods his head. “If that is your wish Jaina, then I will respect it.” As Jaina leaves the office, he looks towards the final Jedi he has brought in for this, noticing how the young blonde girl is staring at her hands, and gnawing on her bottom lip. “How about you Tahiri? Are you willing to train an apprentice?”

“Yes Master, I think I am. That is if you trust me enough.”

She looks up at him, her green eyes large, and filled with hope and longing. An odd feeling twitches in his stomach, guilt of an old memory, long suppressed, as he reaches down and plucks the second of three data chits from the stack and without looking at it, holds it out to her.

“I think you’ll do just fine Tahiri.”

She smiles hesitantly, and grasps the data chit, pulling it to her quickly. She stands up, looking down at the small device, and takes a step forward, tossing her arms around the Jedi Master.

“Thank you Master Skywalker. Thank you for trusting me.”

Luke awkwardly returns the hug, gently patting her back, as she drops back down to the flat of her feet.

“Choose your apprentice, and then bring whoever you’ve chosen here, and I’ll formalize it.”

She beams at him. “Thank you!”

And then she walks out of the room, a bounce to her step that Luke hasn’t seen since before the Killik fiasco. Since before Mrykr. Luke smiles slightly, and then returns to his work, never glancing at the remaining data chit that rests on his desk.

Never seeing the label with Mara’s neat, precise handwriting spelling out Tahiri’s name.

----------------------------------------------------------

Tahiri walks through the halls, holding the small data chit in her hands. She flips it over, seeing a neat precise script on the label, and reads Jaina’s name there. For a second she looks towards Luke’s office, wondering if she should tell him that she received the wrong data card. Then with a shrug, she turns away and continues down the hall.

She arrives at her quarters, and slips in tossing her heavy robe onto her bed. She sits at the console, and plugs the data chit in, pulling up the roster files for potential apprentices. The files appear on the screen, and she grunts, slapping a button, switching to holographic mode.

A moment later, the icons for the files appear as translucent blue holograms hovering in the air before her.

She grabs the first one, and pulls it towards her. As she lets go it expands, displaying a hologram of a thirteen year old boy. She reads the dossier, his name is Lant Ghyrkson. Her nose wrinkles as she decides she really doesn’t want a male apprentice. Too many potential hassles.

She pushes the file away, and it flickers into non-existence as the icons reappear.

She scans the names, looking for one which calls to her.

Y’lr Hic’kla. Pluor Sytho, Bistam, Noelani Darklighter.

She pauses, her heart jumping for a moment, even as she wonders about that name. The Darklighters are famous on her homeworld of Tatooine, rich water magnates. That would explain why they might have named a daughter after a Tusken term, but there is something about the name which calls to her.

She grabs the icon, pulling it towards her, her heart hammering away in her chest, as the holograms flicker and resolves into the file. She bites on her lower lip, as she stares at the image of the thirteen year old girl, something in her soul shifting as she watches the face.

The Force screams to her. This one!

She continues reading, noting the details of her upbringing. That she was adopted and raised by Huff Darklighter during the Vong War. Born less than a year after Anakin died.

The marks she has received in her classes shows that she has effortlessly blown through them, mastering the techniques quicker than expected. Doing better. Going further.

Tahiri grins, a wide open smile. She twirls a lock of her blonde hair absently as she watches the hologram before her. Then pulling up the girl’s itinerary, Tahiri finds that she should be playing on the Skorch Field at this time of day.

Waving the console off, she stands and grabs her robe as she leaves the room. Her bare feet padding along down the hallway, shuffling against the cool marble floors.

Soon she steps outside into the bright Ossus sun, and walks towards the Skorch Field. The yelling and screaming greets her even before she gets near, and she smiles as she finally arrives, settling onto a bench to watch the game.

It takes a moment, but she finally finds the girl she has come here to see. The diminutive blonde deftly slides in and out of the crowd, ducking and dodging the other players. Almost effortlessly she avoids the bigger boys who try to tackle her.

She moves like a sandpanther.

But the boys working in conjunction corner her, in one of the walls built around the field. Tahiri stands to get a better view, reaching out with the Force to feel what’s happening. The boys close in, as Noelani tucks the Skorch ball behind her, hunching down.

As the boys get shoulder to shoulder, the Force sings, and a wave of energy pushes out from the girl’s spot, tossing the unsuspecting boys away from her.

Tahiri grins. And she strikes like a Krayt Dragon.

Noelani’s laughter is musical as she jumps up, and darts around, keeping the ball away from the other players.

Finally the timer above the field goes off, a loud buzzing sound which startles Tahiri out of her observations of Noelani. Kam Solusar gathers the players around him, explaining how everyone did. Exactly what the rules were this time. His voice echoes over the field, coming to Tahiri as a soft murmur in the background. She sits back on the bench, and waits and watches.

The players wander off, and Kam comes over to her, settling down beside her on the bench.

“How are you Tahiri?”

She smiles at the older Master. “I’m fine Master Salusar.”

“You know Tionne misses you – you could stop by and visit us more often.”

Tahiri looks down, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I know. But it’s so hard. Whenever I see Tionne, I think back to the adventures we had with Anakin.” She glances up at Kam. “It still hurts. You’d think after fourteen years, it wouldn’t hurt so bad. But it does.”

Kam nods his head, and silently wraps his arm around her, giving her a gentle squeeze. After a moment, he looks down at her again. “So what brings you out here today?”

Tahiri looks up, and glances to see Noelani still standing on the Skorch Field, her eyes closed, her arms hanging by her side as she has her face lifted to the sun.

Tahiri nods towards her. “Master Skywalker told me I could choose an apprentice. I was thinking about asking her.”

Kam glances that way, and looks back down at Tahiri. “She’s powerful, with a lot of native talent. I think you’d be a great teacher for her. In fact she reminds me a bit of you when you were that age.”

“Always getting in trouble?”

Kam laughs. “Something like that. Want me to introduce you to her?”

Tahiri thinks for a moment, and then shakes her head. “No, I think I’ll do that myself.” She leans up and kisses Kam on his cheek. “Thank you Kam. I promise I’ll come visit you and Tionne soon.”

Kam stands, and grins down at her. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Standing, he turns and walks away, heading in towards the temple. Tahiri watches Noelani, and stretches out with the Force, feeling it as it flows in and through the young girl. Standing she walks onto the field, coming up behind her, stopping a few paces away.

“Searching for peace?”

The girl lets out a small yelp of surprise, and spins around. Seeing Tahiri, her eyes widen for a second, and Tahiri realizes that they are an ice blue, the same shade that Anakin’s were. A pang of grief stabs into her heart, but Tahiri quickly quashes it. Noelani bows, and then straightens.

“I’m sorry Knight Veila, I did not see you behind me.”

Tahiri just smiles. “That’s all right. I did sneak up behind you. What’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I’m Noelani, Noelani Darklighter. I’m from Tatooine, but I’m adopted, and-”

Tahiri raises her hand, and Noelani blushes as she quiets down. “Sorry Knight Veila, I seem to talk too much sometimes.”

Tahiri laughs slightly. “It’s an affliction which many have been burdened with. Can I ask what you were doing?”

Noelani suddenly blushes and looks down at the ground. “I’m resetting myself.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t know what to call it. It’s just when I’m on the field, playing with or for or against the others, I can feel the Force rushing through me. Like the rapids over at Istan Falls. Have you seen those? They’re beautiful. I love the water. Anyways, I feel it rushing through me. If I don’t take the time to calm down, to reset myself, it will stay rushing that way for hours.”

Tahiri nods her head, happy at the answer. She probes the Force, seeing if this is the right apprentice for her, and she feels the peace and acceptance the Force sends her in return.

“Did you know that some of your class is being paired up with the older Knights?”

“Well, we all knew that Ben Skywalker was paired off with his cousin, but we didn’t know how that would affect the rest of us.”

“Well, some of you are getting paired up. I would like to know if you’d like to be my apprentice?”

Tahiri watches as Noelani’s eyes widen slightly, and a bright smile suffuses the girl’s face, transforming it, making her look even more angelic.

“I would love to be”

Tahiri grins, her happiness an odd emotion, one she has not felt in too long. “Wonderful, go get cleaned up and then meet me at Master Skywalker’s office.”

Tahiri watches as the girl runs off towards the barracks. Then she turns and heads towards the Temple.

A Life Not His Own: Chapter 8

Tsavong Lah dismisses the prefect before him, and rubs his eyes. He despises this time of day, having to deal with the administrative duties of leading the giant war machine of the Yuuzhan Vong. The internecine squabbling and bickering of various castes and domains is enough to wish he had sacrificed his ears decades ago.

He glances at the qahsa set beside him, and realizes that he only has a single audience left. He signals the guard at the door, who disappears outside of it for a moment. He exhales slowly, hoping that this audience will be swift.

The warrior returns, followed by a priestess of the deception sect. She bows, her living smock twisting around her. “Thank you for seeing me Warmaster.”

“What do you require of me, Priestess?”

“There was a Priestess of the Deceoption Sect, one Elan who was sent into the Infidels in an attempt to destroy the Jeedai.”

Tsavong nods his head. “I remember.”

“She had a familiar. It has returned to us, claiming to know a great many things about the Infidels.”

“I fail to see what this has to do with me.”

“She claims that she can only speak her secrets to you.”

Tsavong Lah strokes his chin, staring at the priestess for a full minute. Finally he nods his head. “Have her purified, and then I will see her.”

The priestess bows, and retreats from the chamber.

Two days later, the purification is done. He stands outside her small cell, and stares at the toolith, which monitors the interior of the cell, providing audio and visual feed from within. He frowns at what he sees. The familiar, Vergere, sits on reverse-articulated legs, her large dark eyes staring at the wall in front of her. She has neither smile nor frown on her face. Perfectly immobile, neither asleep nor truly awake, she waits.

Finally he decides there is nothing else to do but talk to her. He presses a nerve cluster and the door rolls away. Confidently he walks into the cell, and looks down at the small avian creature which bows itself in submission.

“I am Tsavong Lah; tell me what you know of the infidel Jeedai . . . especially Jacen Solo.”

Vergere’s head cocks to the side, as she looks up at the large warrior, her eyes dark and penetrating. After a moment, she bobs her head. “I shall obey.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Jacen Solo and Ganner Rhysode eye each other warily. Neither of these two Jedi truly likes the other, and both are wondering why they have been summoned to see Luke Skywalker in the med center of the Errant Venture.

After a moment, a haggard looking Valin Horn steps out, and looks at the two older Knights. “The Master is ready for you now.”

They follow Valin back into the room, and Luke looks up from his wife. Jacen, upon seeing her ashen form, gasps aloud. Luke looks between Jacen and Mara before nodding his head.

“Yes, the disease has come back stronger.”

“The baby?”

“Currently the baby is fine. Mara is pouring most of her energy into ensuring that.”

Sadness rolls across and from Jacen. “I’m sorry Uncle Luke.”

“Thank you Jacen, but that is not why I asked the two of you to come here. By now you both should have seen the video of this new Darth Vader.”

Jacen and Ganner give matching affirmatives.

“Good. Your task is simple, find out who is behind that mask, and do whatever is necessary to stop him.”

Jacen looks down at the floor, scuffing his boot against the durasteel deck. “Master, I think I know who it is.”

Both Ganner and Luke look at him. “Who?”

“Anakin.”

Jacen can feel the roll of shock that comes from the two, and sighs.

“Jacen, I know the two of you have had your disagreements, but certainly you don’t think he has fallen to the Dark Side.”

Jacen looks towards his uncle. “Fallen or not, I don’t know, but I do know that he is close to it, his Force presence is coated in pain, misery and darkness, and he has been gone since before this new Vader appeared.”

Luke rubs his face with his hands, feeling the beginning of a headache appearing. “I want proof, Jacen.”

Jacen bows slightly, “Yes, Uncle Luke.”

“Good. This is important. The Jedi don’t need another public relations disaster. If the public thinks we’re all starting to turn into Darth Vaders, more of us will be turned over to the Vong.”

Luke glances back at his wife, and then turns once more to Jacen and Ganner. “Be safe out there. May the Force be with you.”

Then he turns from them, taking up his vigil beside Mara once more. Jacen and Ganner share a look, and then turn from the room, going to the hanger to begin their mission.

-------------------------------------------------------

P’kar Slooth stands once more in the midst of devastation. Surrounding him are the bodies of a legion of Chazrach. He looks down at the reptilian animals the Yuuzhan Vong use for shock troops, a sneer on his face. Lifting his eyes, he glances out towards the grashals and damutaks which once dotted the city around the training fields here.

In their place are the still smoking pieces of shell, the shattered remains of Yuuzhan Vong biot-buildings. Some of the pieces are big enough to hide a warrior behind, but most are just chunks of coral, no longer than his arm.

Out beyond the broken remains of the training camp, are the training fields themselves. Battered and scared infidel buildings. Their very presence an affront to him, yet he understands the necessity as the warriors and Chazrach need to be trained.

He once more looks around the devastated landscape, seeing the ten warriors sent with him to find out what happened. Even now, they are walking among the ruins, searching for someone who the gods have not yet claimed.

P’kar sighs, as he considers the fact that not even the Shamed were spared this time. What manner of Jeedai is this that he walks through warriors and legions of shock troops, as if they were nothing but the lowliest shamed infants?

A Subaltern walks towards him, bearing an inverted villip. P’kar lifts the creature, and sees the head of his second in command T’Io Slooth.

“Report.”

“The Yammosk reports that there has been no Infidels arriving or leaving. The same as what happened on Lorrd. Whoever did this just appeared, and then disappeared.”

P’kar mutters a curse. “Keep looking. The Infidel could still be here in system.”

“I obey, Commander.”

The villip reverts back to a leathery ball, and P’kar passes it off to the Subaltern, and once more starts walking around the corpses of Chazrach.

A yell from one of his warriors attracts his attention, and he turns that way. He sees the warrior laying on the ground, at the edge of the training fields, a blackend, single-story structure a backdrop for whatever has happened. P’Kar walks that way, standing over the warrior on the ground. The warrior is bleeding from the temple and P’Kar notices a large rock nearby, a splatter of black Yuuzhan Vong blood on it. He looks up, at the buildings which surround him, a frown rippling the tatters of his lips.

A war cry echoes around him, as rocks begin to fly from the buildings. Then someone steps to the ledge. A Shamed One, his face darkened, painted into a death’s head mask. In his hand he holds a metal sword, with electrical discharge running up and down it, lending it a blue glow. An abomination, which the infidels call a vibrosword.

The Shamed One hefts the sword high. “For redemption! For the Jeedai!”

His cry is joined in by a host of others, as Shamed come pouring out of the surrounding buildings, rushing P’kar and his warriors, as they brandish infidel weapons.

P’kar allows his amphistaff to slide down his arm, hardening into cutting form, and rushes towards the advancing line of shamed.

A bright flash of red overrides his vision, and agony sears through his body, as he finds himself flying through the air.

He crashes onto the ground, and his head lolls to the side, where he can see the stump which used to be his shoulder.

He struggles to stand, and a shamed pushes him back to the ground with his foot. P’kar looks up at the Shamed One, who stands over him, sees the smile on the unblemished face.

Then with another flash of red, P’kar ceases to exist.

-------------------------------------------------------

Nelani sits beside Vader’s dark form; the rhythmic breathing has become soothing to her over the course of their travels and training.

She watches him from the corner of her eye, a ghost of a smile on her lips, as she considers her master, her mentor. He is quick to anger, and hates the Vong with a passion beyond belief, yet despite the darkness she can feel clinging to him through the Force, she knows that deep down there is a solid core of humanity.

Even though he is draped in darkness both literally and figuratively, she recognizes within him a light, a state of being a hero. She can see it in him, even if he is unable to do so.

And she wonders if she is falling in love with him. Casting her thoughts back, she remembers the rare words of praise, and how they made her feel, the even rarer quip or joke, which would cause her to laugh or giggle.

Turning her attention back to the console in front of her, she notices they only have a few minutes before reversion.

“Nelani.”

Nelani jumps slightly, not used to Vader speaking to her on trips. “Yes, Master?”

“You will pilot the craft and land at the coordinates set into the system. Be wary for any potential Vong craft, as the last time I was here, this system was in their hands.”

Nelani can feel a smile come to her lips. She does not often fly, but it is one of the skills that he has been teaching her. She reaches for the controls, and as the counter hits zero, drops the ship back into real space. As they swing around the orange curve which is Yavin, and come into view of the green orb that is the fourth moon, she can feel a wave of pain from Vader.

She glances at him, but he remains perfectly still. She sighs, once more wishing that he would take off the mask when around her, so she could see his features; that she would have just that little extra visual clue on what he is feeling, above and beyond what she can glean from the Force.

She lands the craft, and turns towards him, noting that he is still radiating pain through the Force. Noticing that he is staring out the viewport, she looks that way and sees a dying Yuuzhan Vong building; she decides to risk a question.

“Is something wrong Master?”

He looks from the building to her. “Just the past.”

Nelani leans back in her seat glancing towards him. “Would you,” she pauses, and looks out onto the verdant world before continuing, “would you care to talk about it?”

He lifts his saber, turning his attention from her to it. “I was pretty much raised here. Where that damutek is, there used to be a Massasi Temple. It housed the Jedi Praxeum. There was a girl here when I was growing up.” He glances at her for a moment. “Her name was Tahiri . . . you would have liked her.”

“What happened?”

“The Vong shaped her. And then the Peace Brigade killed her. They blew up the building she was in, while making me watch.”

She reaches out and places her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He looks down at her hand, briefly touching it with one of his own, before knocking it away. Standing he leaves the cockpit, calling out over his shoulder, “Come, there is much to do. And we are still in enemy territory.”

Nelani can feel her heart drop. She has to remember to control her compassion around him. “Yes, Master.”

She follows him off the ship, and around the damutek, coming upon a field of odd looking plants. She can feel a wave of satisfaction come off Lord Vader. “Good, I had hoped they would leave some, and it appears we are in time for harvest.”

Nelani looks at the plants, confused. She can feel the beginnings of a mild headache, a low drone in the back of her head. She looks around again, and sees Vader kneeling beside a plant. “Master?”

“Come over here, and kneel beside this one.”

Nelani does so. He hands her a small knife, and picks up a bulb from the plant in front of him.

“Now, run your hands down the bulb like this - this attunes the lambent to you. If you’re doing it right, you’ll hear a noise in your head.

Nelani does as he commands, and the low drone spikes into a crystal song for a second. Then Vader’s voice intrudes again.

“Now cut open the husk, being careful not to damage the lambent within.”

She carefully slices away the husk, ignoring the milk-like substance that pours over her hands. Gasping in surprise at the crystal which falls out, she looks towards Vader. “What is it?”

A wave of amusement rolls off of him. “It is called a lambent. The Yuuzhan Vong use them for light sources and control mechanisms. You’re going to use it for a lightsaber crystal.”

“Master? But it’s a plant.”

“It’s a living crystal which the plant produces. They are perfect for lightsabers, and in fact it is the type of crystal I use in mine.”

Anakin gestures towards the crystal in her hand. “Think to your lambent, ask it to come on, and turn off.”

Nelani looks down at the lambent, reaching out to it, commanding it to shine.

She gasps as it emits a bright, shining white light.

She commands it to dim and its glow dims until it is no longer visible in the daylight. She looks up at Vader, an amazed smile on her face. “That’s amazing.”

Vader stands up, motioning for Nelani to follow as he walks them back to their ship. Once they arrive, he hands her the box of pieces which she had gathered and the instructions on how to build the weapon.

“Take your time, meditate. This will be your weapon, and a symbol of your status as a Jedi. We are under no pressure here, and you need to work as long as necessary. I warn you; on occasion there will be visions during the construction of a lightsaber, that is fine. You may lose time during its construction, that is fine. The important thing is that the blade becomes a part of you, an extension of yourself and your will.”

Nelani looks at him for a moment. “I understand, Master.”

“Good, now go build your saber.”

Jedi Adept: Greater Than the Sum of Their Parts: Prologue

Dramatis Personae

• Tahiri Veila – Jedi Knight (female human)
  
• Noelani Darklighter – Jedi Apprentice (female human)
  
• Luke Skywalker – Jedi Grand Master (male human)
  
• Mara Jade Skywalker – Jedi Master (female human)
  
• Han Solo – Captain Millennium Falcon (male human)
  
• Leia Organa Solo – Jedi Knight (female human)
  
• Jacen Solo – Sith Lord (male human)
  
• Lumiya – Sith Lady (female human)
  
• Jaina Solo – Jedi Knight (female human)
  
• Ulya Tu – Commander, The Festering Wound (female Yuuzhan Vong)

---

"To see something new born in you and Tahiri. And to give you whatever small help I am able to give to see that birth arrive."
-- Jedi Master Ikrit to Anakin Solo (Conquest)

Prologue

Tahiri lets out a scream of pain. It is a writhing agony that shoots out from her pelvis wrapping around her body. Every nerve from her head to her toes burns with it.

Sweat covers her body, causing the thin hospital gown to cling to her. Her legs ache from being in the stirrups for hours on end, her body twisted, granting access to her most private parts to the medical droids as they float and cluck to themselves.

The wave of pain recedes, and Tahiri leans back.

The droid hovering between her legs speaks soothing words, words in a language which Tahiri doesn’t understand.

The wave of pain comes again, slashing across her. The intense pressure building, demanding she push.

She grabs hold of the cushioned metal bars beside her bed, handgrips for just this purpose, squeezing them as pain pushes her higher than she could ever conceive of going.

She lets out another growl of pain, as the bar to her right squeals with the sound of overstressed metal.

Again, the pain slides away, granting her a brief respite. She leans back again, still panting. One of the droids places ice chips on her tongue.

Tahiri closes her eyes as she considers the fact that the traditional spot for the father of her child is being taken by a droid.

Anakin, why did you have to die?

It is an old pain, one she has been suffering with for the entire pregnancy. The Tusken in her despairs, her life-mate is gone – never to hold her child, never to hold her.

The Yuuzhan Vong in her cries out in her anger at the gods for taking away her lover.

Then the pain once more washes over her, driving all thoughts away.

“Itlack” The droid’s command is harsh and demanding.

And Tahiri can only hope it means “push.”

For that is what she does. As she pushes, the pressure builds, reaching a crescendo as her body stretches beyond what the fifteen year old Jedi would ever believed possible.

The pain crests for a moment, and then washes in again, not giving her a respite.

Her body demands that she push again, and she does.

Finally the pressure passes, her body shakes at the exertion, and she lets out a small gasp.

A few moments later, she hears the tiny wailing cry of her newborn. She collapses back against the bed, her sweat-slicked hair sticking to her forehead.

The droid gently lays the babe in Tahiri’s arm, and pulls down her gown, directing Tahiri through gestures on how she should nurse.

Tahiri watches as the baby begins to suckle. In the background the droid floats away, shifting the bed slightly to lower Tahiri’s legs as it leaves.

Grateful to be able to closer her legs, she lets out a small sound of relief, half sigh, half moan.

Then finally all of her attention is focused on the small life from her womb.

The end result of that single night on the Exquisite Death with Anakin. Images and sounds from that night flicker through her mind. The ancient Tusken ceremony, the symbolic words they both whispered to one another. Then what they did afterwards – the consummation of their marriage.

She reaches down and unwraps the newborn from the swaddling clothes, tears coming to her eyes as a tiny fist flails in the air. Tahiri gives a half-laugh, half sob, as she tucks the blanket back around her child’s body.

She closes her eyes, and gently blows out her breath, feeling complete for the first time since Anakin died. She glances down at her daughter, her eyes lighting with life and joy, even as she wonders how this small being can make such a huge difference in how she feels.

Before long, the baby stops drinking, and drifts off to sleep, a gentle contentment rolls of the child in the Force, and Tahiri smiles happily as well, the exertions of the past eighteen hours of labor finally taking their toll as she slowly drifts off to sleep.

Three days later Tahiri awakens on a Mon Calamari beach, her body sore and tender, every muscle she has aching gently. She uncurls herself from the tight ball that her body had contorted itself into, brushing the sand from her face and hair.

She looks around, trying to find something, not quite able to.

Not quite sure what she was looking for.

She absently rubs her stomach, as emptiness and loss fills her soul.

Themed Drabbles Set 14

Sun

I dream sometimes.

Even though Jedi aren’t supposed to, I still do. Wonderful dreams of my children running in the bright golden light of the sun. A boy and a girl. Both with hair like the sun, and eyes like cool ice.

When I wake, I always wonder if it’s just the Force teasing me. Showing me things I want, I crave, but that I can never have.

Not with Anakin dead.

After all, a Tusken mates for life. And unknown to everyone but Sliven, on the night I became an adult of the tribe, Anakin and I were wed.

---

Moon

I still remember Tionne’s confusion, her worry over Anakin, her confusion as to why we couldn’t get him to the ship right then. What other part of the ritual had to occur.

I don’t think she ever realized that the words Sliven spoke over Anakin and I bound us for life. Eternity. One to the other, there in the deep desert, under the full moon, the same way Tuskens have been doing since time immemorial.

I know it’s not the way for others, and I wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t chosen me when he became of age.

---

Stars

I like to take my X-Wing up, break atmosphere and just drift here. With nothing but the cold light of distant stars shining upon me. It reminds me of so many things, home, nights on the desert, sneaking out of the Temple.

But mostly, it reminds me of Anakin.

He taught me how to fly an X-Wing.

Long hours crammed together into a simulator. I think we may have kissed more than actually trained, but I did not mind then, and I miss it now.

Those were the happiest days of my life.

There were just so few of them.

---

Clouds

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night on the Errant Venture, when I finally told him what the last part of the Tusken ceremony was, when I told him that according to my society - the rules I grew up with - that we were wed.

That I was his.

The shock on his face, the confusion, it hurt me, but he stopped me as I was about to leave.

There’s a Tusken phrase, “floating in the clouds.” It describes someone who is lost to their body, who gives in to someone.

I never understood it until that night.

---

Planet

I see the planet turning slowly above me, my X-Wing inverted in relation to it, so that I look up at it. A beautiful shining ball.

I’m part of a Jedi delegation, sent to welcome the Chume’ta of Hapes, the new princess, at her coming out to society.

I don’t want to go down there.

It has nothing to do with the princess, or with Tenel Ka. I love her like the sister I wish she was.

It has everything to do with Anakin.

It has everything to do with the fact that this is where we burned his body.

A Life Not His Own: Chapter 7

Jacen stands in the communication chamber of Sanctuary, a holographic image of Kam Solusar flickering in front of him. Silently the young Knight watches the message again.

“Jedi Solo, Master Skywalker has asked that you return to the Errant Venture. We have a mission for you. As you may have heard, there is a Force user who has donned the armor of Darth Vader. In case you have not seen it, attached is a video from Lorrd detailing his return. We will see you soon. May the Force be with you.”

Then the hologram flickers away, and after a moment a new hologram appears, this one of Darth Vader slaughtering Vong warrior after Vong warrior. Jacen inhales sharply, his breathe a serpentine hiss, and leans in closer to the hologram.

The image of Darth Vader is a powerful one, especially to his family. The specter of that dark figure has haunted his parents’ lives for decades. Jacen almost killed his twin sister due to a holographic shroud of that figure.

And Anakin, Anakin has dreamed of becoming Darth Vader for his entire life.

The video ends, and Jacen stares at the empty air where it had been playing. Something about it bothers him. He taps his chin with a finger, and after a moment, restarts the hologram, playing it through to the end.

His frown grows larger.

He fiddles with the controls, setting up the first two minutes of the video to play on a continuous loop, a sickening feeling appearing in his stomach, a cold knot of hurt and disgust, one which grows larger with each loop.

On the fourth repetition, he feels confidant in his thoughts, he knows that he has seen that lightsaber form before.

He knows that he has dueled against the person wielding that lightsaber.

Even though the blue of the hologram washes away the colors, he has no doubts that the color of that lightsaber blade is purple.

He despairs at what it means for his family, his brother, if his fears are true. If that blade is purple.

He hears a gasp from behind him, and turns to see his mother standing there. He allows a sheepish grin to come to his face. “Hey mom.”

She walks closer to him, her eyes never leaving the video. “Someone is running around as Vader?”

Jacen nods his head, trying to bury the sick feeling and his opinion on the man behind the mask, beneath his shields. “Apparently. I think Uncle Luke is going to assign me to find out who it is.”

Leia turns to Jacen her head cocked to the side slightly as she watches her eldest son. Jacen turns towards her, keeping his face impassive, pushing down his feelings deeper behind a wall, not wanting to hurt her with his suspicions.

His mother is too perceptive. “What do you know about this Jacen.”

Jacen flinches slightly. “I don’t know anything. Did you hear about Yag’dhul?”

A raised eyebrow, and Jacen is once more under the gaze of The Look. He sighs again, knowing that he can not fail to tell her the truth after receiving The Look. It is the same expression she would turn on generals and other politicians, and they would tell her whatever she wished to know.

He turns back towards the hologram as it repeats the slaughter of the Vong warriors again and again, and feels his mother staring at the back of his head.

He turns back towards her, finding her arms crossed over her chest, The Look dangerously close to becoming The Glare. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly, wondering for the millionth time how someone so short can be so intimidating.

Her voice intrudes upon the darkness behind his eyelids. “Tell me Jacen.”

He opens his eyes even as he lowers his head slightly, and slows the video. “See this riposte, and how it follows through with a lunge.”

“Yes.”

“Now watch, his next move will be to jump over the attack, then duck, and stab upward into the underarm.”

He turns to Leia, his eyes filled with sorrow and pain, as she nods her head, watching Vader perform the moves which Jacen laid out. “I see it, but I still don’t understand.”

Jacen’s mouth twists down into a frown, still not wanting to give voice to his thoughts on the matter. “I’ve seen those moves before; I’ve seen this fighting style.” Jacen hesitates a moment. “I’ve dueled against him.”

A quirk of an eyebrow. “So this Vader is one of the Jedi.”

Jacen nods his head, and looks down at his hands, refusing to meet his mother’s eyes.

“But who? Who would use Vader’s arm…Oh.” She looks back towards the video, her eyes widening in understanding, filling with pain of their own.

She sees what Jacen had seen, and Jacen has to grab her fast as she begins to collapse to her knees.

“Oh. Oh no. No, not him. It couldn’t be.”

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Anakin steps from the forest, the light of Garqi’s moon plenty for him to see by. His respirator is off, the rhythmic sound silent for his approach on the slave training facility. His eyes scan the horizon, hunting for Vong atmospheric fighters. Seeing none, he creeps forward, Ghrikma and Thrikkes on either side of him, as silent and deadly as any of the Noghri.

He grins as a contingent of Chazrach march past at a trot. Night-time runs. He glances to the right towards Ghrikma, and raises a hand, pointing to a shell-shaped structure. Ghrikma nods his head, and fades into the night. Anakin turns towards Thrikkes, and nods his head. Together they advance forwards, heading towards the grashals strewn around the remains of the capital of Garqi.

In silence they plant the detonators around the various buildings, working fast, before the next training contingent comes jogging by and is able to see them.

Anakin plants the last detonator, and retreats back to the treeline. He kneels by the tree, as Ghrikma and Thrikkes fade in from the jungle on either side of him. He glances at each, receiving a quick nod of their heads.

Smiling behind his mask, he pulls out a small cylinder, and flips up a safety-catch on it. As he watches the buildings, he presses the button, and a red light comes on the device, as every building erupts into flames.

Through the lambent he is able to feel dozens of Yuuzhan Vong lives being snuffed out.

Through the Force he feels thousands of Chazrach’s dying.

His grin stretches the healing burns on his face even wider.

“And now it’s time for the Vong to see me, so that they can fear.”

He glances at either noghri, and finds they have once more disappeared, off to perform their tasks without waiting command. He nods approvingly as he stands.

A flick of a switch on the chest plate, and the rhythmic breathing starts once more. He steps out of the tree line, standing in the middle of the footpath used by the training soldiers. A thud bug flies at him from out of the dark, and Anakin ignites his saber, batting the thing away.

Those arrayed against him come forward, a company of the Chazrach foot soldiers, in their hands holding the stiffened amphistaffs subspecies bred for them. He grins as flashes of red come from the dark woods, vaporizing large chunks of the reptiles.

As the remaining chazrach surround him, he lifts his saber and attacks. He slices through them, devastating their numbers. Minutes later, he is surrounded by dead Chazrach, and Anakin once more takes up his position of waiting and watching for the next group of enemies.

As the sun crests the horizon signaling dawn, Anakin gets a prompt from Nelani through the Force. He flicks his comlink on. “Nelani.”

“Yes Master?”

“It is time.”

The comlink clicks off, and a few minutes later Nelani comes walking out of the forest. She is dressed in a black jumpsuit, custom fitted for her. As she comes to a stop in front of Anakin, she rests her left hand on the grip to her blaster.

In her right hand is her other blaster, poking in the back of the Shamed One she has led from the woods.

The vong drops to his knees. “Are you a Jeedai?”

Anakin looks down at him. “Yes.”

An expression which Anakin can only define as ecstasy crosses the Vong’s face. “At last I get to meet you! I have heard that the Jeedai are the hope for the shamed. Is this true?”

“Define hope.”

“The story is that a Jeedai redeemed a shamed warrior. That Vua Rapuung fought side by side with him, saluting the Jeedai as he died. Is this true?”

Anakin nods his head. “Yes, this is truth.”

“Then you can heal me of the affliction which destroys my body!”

Anakin looks his body over, noticing he lacks the usual implants and scars of the Yuuzhan Vong. “Your body refuses escalation implants?”

The shamed nods his head. “Yes, plus the inks for tattoos burns my flesh, causing boils.”

“What is your name?”

“I am called Lu’ath Raptoq.”

Anakin places his hand on the shamed one’s shoulder. “Lu’ath, I shall tell you this once. There is no shame in not being modified in such a manner. Your leaders tell you that there is, merely as a means to control you. For every warrior there are a hundred shamed. For every shaper a thousand and for every priest a million shamed. This false belief of shame and disgrace is the only way they can keep you subjugated.”

The Shamed One looks at Anakin with a mixture of awe and fear. Anakin leans his mask closer to the Shamed. “If you want redemption, then rebel. Wrest the redemption and the power from those who keep you under their heel.”

------------------------------------------

“No!” The old shaper’s shriek causes Nen Yim to jump slightly, startled from her work, she looks up to see Kae Kwaad staring at the newly hatched grutchins.

She turns and takes a step towards him. “Master?”

The Master looks up at her, the dementia flashing brightly in his eyes. “They’re imperfect! Ruined! Someone is out to destroy me! If only the other Masters had restored my hands!”

“I do not understand Master.”

“The grutchins; they are imperfect. Failures!” He glances down into the hatchery and sneers. “Destroy this batch, and kill one of the initiates. I will not tolerate such failure.”

“Yes Master.”

Kae strikes her, spinning her around to the ground. She lifts herself up, aiming an angry glare at the back of the deranged master.

She watches as the disturbed creature leaves the room, her face twisting into a hate-filled sneer. After a moment, she walks to the grutchin hatchery, and looks down, a plan formulating in her mind. Considering the implications, she walks over to a wall, and pressing against a nerve cluser which causes a seam to appear, and a section folds away. She reaches into the opened space and pulls out a small animal. It chirps slightly in her hand as she scratches its head. Then she returns to the hatchery, and drops it in, smiling as the illac proceeds to devour all the infant grutchins.

Her grin turns feral, as she imagines Kae Kwaad’s face on each grutchin as it is consumed by the illac.

As the final animal is consumed, Nen Yim returns to her work of trying to find a solution to the dying ship brain. The moment she has once more become enthralled in her experiment, she hears Kae’s voice behind her.

“Nen Tsup! Come here!”

Suppressing a sigh, Nen Yim turns and faces the Master Shaper. “Yes Master.”

“We shall once more attempt to create the perfect grutchin.”

“Yes Master. If I may ask a question?”

He gives her an odd look. “Ask your question.”

“Why exactly did you not have your hands replaced?”

A frown crosses his face. “The other masters, they fear me, they refused to replace my hands.”

Nen Yim allows a smile to cross her face as she thinks of a plan. “I could shape them new ones for you.”

Kae sneers at her. “You are not a Master! Only a Master can shape master hands.”

Nen Yim nods her head. “I could be your hands.”

Kae pulls back away from her. “Create the grutchins as I have ordered Adept.”

Nen Yim trembles in anger, but merely nods her head. “I obey Master.”

-----------------------------------------

Anakin watches Nelani as she twists and turns, her saber deflecting the small darts from the seven remotes surrounding her. He allows a smile to twist his lips as he watches her. He has always been drawn to a woman training with the lightsaber; there is something so graceful and deadly about it which attracts him; draws him in.

The movement. The dance.

He reaches out with the Force, feeling how it flows around and through his apprentice and nods his head in approval. She is progressing perfectly, and he thinks she will soon be ready to create her own weapon.

Still smiling, he steps out into the training room, igniting his saber.

The snap-hiss attracts her attention, and she looks towards him as she orders the remotes to halt her training exercise.

He walks closer to her. “It is time for you to begin training against opponents other than training remotes.”

She gives a short bow of the head. “Yes, Master”

Then Anakin strikes. A fast, one-handed strike aimed at her shoulder, which she carefully blocks.

She goes on the offensive, a series of wild strikes, which Anakin easily bats away, noting where she needs to improve, and where her performance is adequate.

He falls back, as her attacks become wilder and less controlled.

Then with a high vertical slice which he ducks under, he steps into her inner ring and grabs her sword arm with his hand, and places his saber next to her neck. He sees the fear appear in her eyes and he savors its taste in the Force.

“You must learn control. Your strikes are wild and uncontrolled. That makes you dead.”

He extinguishes his saber, and spins her around, dumping her to the floor. She looks up at him, anger replacing the fear.

She quickly stands and attacks once more, her blade flickering to the left and right as Anakin once more falls back, easily deflecting her blows and trying his best to not laugh.

He parries one blow, and sends her saber flying, and then quickly steps in close, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her against the wall, pinning her there.

“Anger is good, it gives you power, but letting it control you, that makes you wild, and when you lose control of your anger, of yourself, you lose control of your weapon. That makes you dead.”

He lets her go, and she crumples to the floor, her chest heaving form exertions and the need to breath as she rubs her throat where the precursor to bruises are.

He calls the saber to his hand, staring down at the familiar weapon for a moment. The weapon that the love of his life built, Tahiri’s lightsaber. He can feel that black knot of hate and rage erupts through him once more, at the unfairness of her being ripped away from him.

He takes a deep breath, pushing the hate, anger and grief to the back of his mind.

Then he looks down at Nelani. “Tomorrow we’re going to Yavin 4; it is time for you to create your own lightsaber.” He hands her a datachit. “Gather these materials. We leave at dawn.”

He turns from her and leaves the room, taking Tahiri’s lightsaber with him.

Balance of the Force

Ben stands on the exterior pinnacle of the tallest spire of the Jedi Temple. He tightly grips the vane which extends from the exact top, his feet planted firmly on the slanted roof, as he leans out over the abyss. He can see the steps leading up into the Temple itself, complete with little insect-sized people, thousands of meters below.

A gust of wind rips through his hair, pulling at him, snapping his robes around his body and trying to fling him from the roof. The vane in his hand shakes slightly, and he looks up at the demilune icon twists in the wind. He knows that he shouldn’t be up here – that his mother does not approve of it, that’s she scared when he does this, when he hangs out over the empty space this way.

Yet he feels alive up here with the wind pulling at him, where he can sit up here and watch the people as they scurry beneath him.

He can feel the mental summons, a tug from Jacen on his consciousness. He thinks for a second on staying here, on ignoring the summons, but shakes his head as he realizes that he’s too much of a devotee of the rules of the Order to do so. For a moment longer he stares out at the abyss, and then he lets go.

He quickly slips into a free fall, he can feel his robes flapping behind him; hear the wind rushing past his ears. And he grins.

He reaches a stable speed, and rolls over onto his back, pulling out his grappling hook and a cord. With a fling of his arms and a touch of the Force, he sends the hook sailing through the open air; he lets out a whoop as it swings neatly into his window.

He falls a bit further, pulling the Force to him, slowing him down, and braces for the inevitable pull. Then it comes, a yank on his shoulders and arms, an excruciating pull which nearly dislocates his shoulders. The rope arcs and he comes up against the side of the building, allowing his legs to absorb the force of the impact.

He quickly climbs the thin robe, and throws his leg over the window sill, hauling himself into the room. He flips over the edge, leaning against the wall and looks up, to find Jacen standing there, staring down at him.

“You know your mom doesn’t like you doing that.”

Ben shrugs. Keeping his stare directed towards his cousin.

A moment later Jacen turns away. “We need to go to the Council now. There’re things that I need to tell Uncle Luke.”

Ben watches Jacen walk away, his face darkening slightly.

“Go.”

Startled, he looks around, trying to find who spoke to him, only receiving a short brush of familiarity. Of family.

Shrugging off his concerns, he stands, grabbing up his dark brown overcloak and rushing through the hallways, arriving at the Council Chambers just as his mentor drops a bombshell in the midst of them all.

Ben stops outside the doorway listening, a frown crossing his features. Jacen’s calm voice is counter-balanced by the steady thrum of multiple ignited sabers.

“I’m the Sith Lord, Uncle.”

Ben leans against the wall next to the door, the Force writhing in tension, disbelief and betrayal.

Then he hears that small, still whisper. “It’s time. Accept the power.”

Ben screws his eyes shut, and slams his hands against his ears, trying to ignore the voice. Trying to ignore the sounds of the sabers.

When their pitches change from the solid steady thrum, to the whine and clashes and zaps of sabers in use, Ben opens his eyes, and walks around the corner and into the Council Chambers.

There is Jacen in the middle of the seven Masters currently on Coruscant. His blade a wall of green light which seems to surround him on all sides as he parries away the Master’s blades.

A wave of Force energy blasts out from Jacen, slamming against the Masters; throwing them away.

The Force energy washes, slashes around and over and through Ben. While the Force push tossed everyone else away, Ben stands calmly there. Unmoved, unconcerned, unfazed by the massive display of Force power. On the far side of Jacen, Ben can see Luke struggling forward, his blade slashing in towards his mentor once more.

Time slows down. Stops.

And Ben still watches.

“You have a choice here.”

Ben turns, to find himself staring at his grandfather.

“The same choice I was given. Will you be a part of this mortal plane or will you be above it?”

Ben frowns, chewing on his lower lip. “What do you mean?”

Anakin gestures towards the frozen fight. “You’ve frozen time. You’re pulling infinite power to you, in preparation to make a choice. Good or evil. Light or dark. Jedi or Sith. God or devil.”

Anakin puts a hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “But the choice is even beyond this. I chose to stay mortal for my wife. You can choose something more. You can choose to become the Force.”

Then Anakin fades away. Leaving an empty spot as if he was never there. Ben stares at the spot for a moment longer, and reaches for the Force once more.

He can feel it pour into him, suffusing him, becoming him.

“Stop.”

A simple command. An immediate response.

Jacen and Luke both stop, and turn their attentions on him, mouths ajar, faces slack with surprise and awe.

For a heartbeat Ben has a doubt, but it is quickly washed away in the pure flow of the Force.

Ben reaches out and touches everything.

He laughs as comprehension fills him. He focuses his attention once more on his father and his mentor.

“This feud ends now. Jedi. Sith. I deem them both useless distinctions.”

Ben closes his eyes, is unaware of his body, of the brilliant white light which shines from his every cell. Unaware as it grows brighter, blinding and pure.

In an eye blink, Ben connects himself to every Force sensitive in existence. He can feel them all. Their sacrifices. Their fears. Their hopes. Their dreams. Their nightmares.

For that brief second of time, he is them all.

He is everyone and no one.

He knows the end of all things, because he realizes that it is him who has written it.

The Force created him, created his entire family, all for this single moment of time; this second when he would become more than himself, more than human, when he would become the Force itself.

He grins at his father at the same time as he grins at his mentor. He can hear the words he tells them both.

“Balance will be served,” and “Peace will reign.”

Though each hears a different statement, he speaks to them at the same time.

He can feel his cells start to explode. A cascading rupturing which renders his body unable to sustain itself. He instinctively knows that he can repair the damage, that he can deny the power, and that he can keep himself from becoming the Force.

But he doesn’t want to.

He reaches out, and slams Luke and Jacen together, watching as their disparate parts merge. As they both become something, someone greater than either of them alone could have been.

A Jedi. A Sith.

Meaningless distinctions. A less than useless dogma.

The light fades from the Council Chambers, but Ben is unconcerned with this. He watches his new creation. The undeniable power of a Skywalker, the unending humanity of a Solo.

The perfect amalgamation of both lines.

The perfect balancing of the Force.

As Ben transcends his mortal coil, as he becomes all that is, all that was, and all that will be, he grins.