A Life Not His Own: Chapter 14

The hiss-crack of lightsaber smashing against lightsaber reverberates throughout the training room. The blow against Nelani’s blade drives her back and causes her to stumble. Vader’s blade slices in towards her vertically, and she drops to the mat.

She suppresses a snarl, as she rolls back on her left hip, coming up in a ready crouch. As Vader advances, she slashes wide and level at him, the white and purple from their blades, creating highlights in her black hair. A feral light shines in her eyes, and matches the snarl that finally escapes her lips.

Vader leaps above her slash, twisting around and landing behind her. He stabs his saber down at the ground, where it catches Nelani’s return cut. Vader pivots and his foot kicks out at Nelani’s head.

She twists her head to the side, but Vader’s foot still connects with her shoulder, knocking her backwards. She uses the momentum of the kick to spin into a somersault, coming up on her feet with her blade once more held at the ready.

Vader raises his blade into a guard high by his right ear, the blade standing straight up pointing away from his shoulder, while Nelani faces him, her blade running from her left pelvis to her right shoulder, her chest heaving with her exertions, her exposed skin covered with a sheen of sweat.

She wonders to herself how he can fight in that armor, and not get overheated.

Nelani crashes her blade against Vader’s driving him backwards.

He pushes against their locked blades and she stumbles back a few steps. Vader advances towards her, his saber coming in fast and hard; and crashing against her blade. As Nelani struggles to parry his strikes, she feels something wrapping around her leg, and suddenly her right leg flies out from underneath her.

With a cry of pain, Nelani lands on her back, smacking her head against the hard floor and the feeling of something wrapped around her leg suddenly disappears.

Wincing, she levers herself up, rubbing the back of her head as she looks up at Vader. Vader extinguishes his saber as he stares down at her for a minute.

“You’ve done better this time. But you still get too focused on a single attack; did you not feel my attack through the Force?”

Nelani looks down at her saber. “I’m sorry Master, I did feel as you grabbed my leg, but I was so focused on parrying that I couldn’t think of something to do.”

“I understand, and you have truly improved. In fact, on this next mission, I wish for you to accompany me.”

Nelani pushes down her embarrassment at the praise even as she sits up straighter. “Really?”

Vader chuckles slightly, and Nelani looks down blushing. He places one of his gloved hands on her shoulder. “Yes really. We’re going to Rodia. There are tales of a new Vong weapon being developed there.”

Nelani jumps up and throws her arms around Vader. “Thank you for trusting me Master!”

She can feel the muscles in his shoulders and back stiffen from the hug, and she drops from him, letting him go, and once more lookes down at her hands. “Sorry, Master. I was just excited.”

He watches her for a moment, and then turns away. “It is all right Nelani.” With a swirl of his cape, he is gone, leaving Nelani to stare at the doorway he disappeared down, even as her cheeks burn with her embarrassment.

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

Anakin closes the door behind him and leans against it heavily. He reaches up and pulls the helmet off, allowing the cool air to tease the hair that has finally started growing back in. Locking the door behind him, he walks over to his desk, and places the helmet on it, so that the red lenses would stare at him. He sinks into the chair, and looks into the sightless eyes of his mask.

“Why am I doing this?”

He doesn’t hear an answer, and does not truly expect one. After all, he knows the answer. He does this for revenge. To make those responsible for Tahiri’s death suffer.

“Why am I doing this to Nelani though?”

He still doesn’t hear an answer, but this time he desperately wishes he could. Every day she is around him, he watches as her Force presence darkens, as it becomes more like his has, yet part of him screams that he cannot stop until Tahiri is avenged. He hates himself for doing this to her, as much as he hates himself for his doubts over it all.

He runs his hands through the short hair that has grown back since the fire, sighing slightly as feelings of sorrow and despair still pound against him. He closes his eyes to meditate, and winces back from the Force. It is no longer warm and inviting, but cold and sticky. He wishes for the warm embrace of joy, or the scalding heat of anger.

This coldness, this apathy causes his despair to worsen. Yet the more he is around Nelani, the harder it is to hold onto his anger and hate. The harder it is to hold onto his sorrow.

Unbidden, the image of her in her training outfit assails him, especially as he had last seen her in the training room. A smile on her lips, her body glistening from the sweat.

He lets out a small growl as he stands and begins pacing the room, his frustration increasing with his every step. Wanting to get his mind off Nelani and how her hug felt, but unable, or unwilling, to meditate to do so.

Returning to his desk, he activates the console there, and checks on the preparations for his next trip. Smiling in satisfaction that the device he wants is ready; he turns off the console and once more tries to meditate.

Anakin closes his eyes again, trying to access the Force the way he used to, the way he did with Tahiri, but it eludes him. All he can find is that cold, fearful place within him. Silently he wonders if that is because he has fallen or because she has died.

As he embraces the cold and the fear, he decides that it doesn’t really matter.

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

Jacen and Ganner are in a dingy cantina on Toporwa. A thick slime covers the walls, and floors. Jacen picks up his glass and looks at the amber fluid with flecks of something floating in it. He sniffs at the fluid experimentally.

Setting the glass back down without taking a drink, he looks at Ganner. “Why exactly are we here again?”

“We’re looking for you little brother, remember?”

“Right, remind me to smack him once or twice when we find him.” Ganner barks a short laugh in reply as Jacen continues talking. “I wonder how long Uncle Luke is going to have us do this; Anakin’s been missing almost a year now.”

Ganner gives a quick shake of his head, and then lifts his chin towards the doorway. “Our contact has arrived.”

A kubaz walks over and sits at their table, the stench that wafts off of him causing Ganner to wrinkle his nose.

[Are you the ones who seek the new Lord Vader?]

Jacen nods his head. “Yes we are.”

The kubaz glances around the room. [I saw his fight on Garqi. He destroyed a legion of warriors.]

Jacen looks across the table at Ganner for a moment, before turning back to the kubaz. “Garqi? We were unaware of his actions on Garqi.”

[Be as it may, he destroyed a legion of warriors in the training grounds, and then him and his apprentice, a young human female, disappeared.]

“Do you know where they went?”

[No. But he has been sighted on Lorrd, Agamar, Belkadan and Garqi. My question for you is where were the Vong next?]

Jacen hands the kubaz a number of credits. “Thank you.”

Without replying the kubaz slips out of his seat and leaves the cantina, nodding to a large yinchorri at the bar. Jacen places a credit chit on the table, and the two Jedi stand up, just as the yinchorri and two burly humans step up to them.

The Yinchorri hisses at them, “Jedi?”

Jacen shakes his head. “You’ve got the wrong people.”

Jacen expands his awareness in the Force, getting a feel for the three beings arrayed against him and Ganner, and frowns.

He can only pick up the Yinchorri. He glances at Ganner for a second, and then reaches out and swipes the nose of one of the humans, and his flesh appears to start peeling off, and forming a pool at his feet.

Jacen’s saber appears in his hand, as he steps forward, and ignites it. A quick slash and the Yinchorri falls away, dead before the two halves of him hit the ground. A second slash is caught by one of the Vong on their amphistaff.

He spares a glance at Ganner and sees him occupied with the other Vong warrior, and turns his attention back to the one he is fighting.

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

Tsavong Lah orders his familiar to appear before him. While he waits, he watches the Vigollarkta, the sacrifice held every klekket to thank Yun Yammka for his blessings while the Elite conquer the Infidels.

He stands on the observation tongue, a snarl twisting his features as the thousand infidels are slowly pressed forward, and pushed into the immolation pit. He pushes down the desire to laugh as the infidels scream in their death throes.

A scuffle of sound behind him, and he turns that way and sees his familiar. Without responding he turns back to the immolation pit, as the last of the slaves deemed worthy sacrifices are thrown into the pit. After a moment, he finally speaks.

“I have heard from Nom Anor, he is impressed by the voxyn, and reiterates that we need to either retrieve Jeedai for our use, or send the animal out into the field. How goes your attempts to capture that Jeedai?”

“I have noticed that he attacks training grounds and weapons facilities. He is attacking our ability to wage war.”

“And how have you leveraged this insight into his capture?”

“We’ve prepared a trap for him on the infidel planet Rodia. It is only a matter of time before he attacks the facility where we create and train the Vagh Rodiek.”

Tsavong Lah turns towards Vergere. “This had best go off without problems familiar, I do not wish for another fiasco like the one which occurred in the shipwomb.”

Vergere bobs her head. “I understand and obey Warmaster.”

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

Lu’ath stares out at the planet the infidels called New Plympto. He does so with a smile on his face, as he directs the Yoric-Vec to land in the woods to the south of the Yuuzhan Vong settlement. He looks around his bridge crew, at the faces which a few klekkets ago would fill him with disgust, but thanks to the wisdom of the Jeedai, now their smooth, unscarred faces fill him with pride.

He nods at them, and as one they rise from their stations, slipping into the cloaks which they had a former shaper create for them. Cloaks which if the fact that they seemed to twist and writhe even when the wearer stands still was ignored would resemble Jeedai robes.

Lu’ath looks down at the grashals and damuteks surrounded as they are by the slave and shamed warrens.

He looks back towards one of his company. “Tokra.”

The shamed warrior advances, and nods towards Lu’ath. “I charge you to go to Bimmiel, and spread the truth of the Jeedai. I shall go down among our brethren here and share the truth.”

“I obey, but I do wish to overthrow those who make us suffer.”

“I know, but first we must bring truth, then we can topple those who cause us to suffer. Only after we have shared the truth of the Jeedai with the others, will the truth of the Jeedai set us free.”

Lu’ath grasps Tokra’s arm. “May the Force guide and protect us, as we share its light with our brethren.”

A quick nod from Tokra, and he and the rest of the bridge crew retreat back to the Yoric-Vec. Silently the coral vessel lifts off and heads towards space. Lu’ath watches it for a moment, and then drawing his cloak tighter around him, walks down the hill, to the fields where the shamed will go with first light.

Themed Drabbles Set 20

A Light in the Dark

Three year old Thi Lessirn huddles in the small compartment -a ventilation shaft which leads into the depths the building, and Coruscant itself. Those dark and wild regions which are still controlled by Vonglife. Thi shivers, fear racing through her, as she can hear the men in black armor yelling at her parents.

She hears a whisper of movement, and turns to see a young man. Intense bright blue eyes shine in the dim light. The shadow of a grin flashes on his face.

His voice is calm and reassuring. "It's okay now."

A shaft of purple light startles her.

---

Steer by the Stars

Han Solo groans as he looks at the mass of burned wires and melted circuitry which used to be the main console of the Falcon. From the depths of the ship he can hear the pinging of molten metal cooling, and he leans back in the battered chair. The Falcon damaged thanks to Jacen.

Sighing, he sends power to the engines, and activates the manual controls.

"What now?"

He glances over his shoulder and sees Leia. Her white robes stained with dirt, grease and blood, yet fire shines in her eyes.

"Wouldn't be the first time we've gone without hyperdrive."

---

Shake the Heavens

The power they pull towards one another is awesome. A fundamental shift in the forces which the Jedi up until now have drawn upon. The two are fundamental aspects of the Force. Good. Evil. Light. Dark. The Living. The Unifying. Jedi. Sith.

They cannot escape this.

Everything they have suffered in their short lives has driven them to this point. To this battle.

The calm environment of the Jedi Council Chambers is a focal point for their battle. They twirl and bat their blades at one another. A physical representation of a battle of wills.

Of a battle of philosophy.

---

Beneath These Hands

Fifteen year old Ben Skywalker sits huddled in the corner of the room. A few meters away is the broken and bloody body of his mother.

Next to her are the charred remains of her killer.

He shivers as he stares at his hands. The blackened burns on the tips of his fingers where the energy he released - the energy of his hate, anger and fear - erupted. Even now thin wisps of grey smoke drift from the burns.

He can feel tears as they track down his face, a cool touch of moisture against his anger.

"What have I done?"

---

The Path and the Walker

Can there be a path without a walker?

Can a walker exist without a path?

What drives a good man to perform such great evils? What pressures evil to sacrifice itself for good?

As Anakin looks down at the empty shell of his brother he ponders these questions. Wonderings of an existential nature which he has never cared about, yet which have always plagued him.

For a moment, he wonders which he is. The path or the walker.

Does he do what he desire, or is he merely a vehicle lead forward by fate and destiny?

And does it matter?

Themed Drabbles Set 19

OneShe was the first girl that he ever loved. His upbringing failed to provide a lot of opportunities for social interaction with people his age, so when he went to the Jedi Academy he was dumb founded by the red-head in green leather armor. The long legs and perfect musculature drove his dreams.

He decided then and there that she was the One.

Now, years later, he knows just how right he was back then. She is the One.

As he ignites his saber, and takes a moment to watch the green glow, he just never realized what that meant.

---

Three

For as long as he can remember, it has always been the three of them. He watches Yavin 4 fall away on one of the Falcon's monitors and realizes that that is just not true anymore.

From now one, things are going to be different. It's no longer the Solo children. Now it is the Solo Twins, and then Anakin Solo. A separate entity.

He grieves. He almost gives into his desire to cry over such things. Yet he resolves himself to be strong. In the back of his head, a voice tells him that this is for the best.

---

Five

Those early days of their training were the best of their lives. They fought. They laughed. They worked. They played. They had no idea of the heartache and pain which awaited them in the future.

The twin children of the Chief of State.

A princess.

A street urchin.

And a wookie.

An eclectic collection of friends. They had always assumed they were destined for greatness. That they were going to one day be the guiding light of the Jedi. Beacons of justice for the galaxy.
Yet destiny is a cruel joke.

Most often on those who dream the biggest dreams.

---

Seven

Tahiri's green eyes shine with an intense fire as she stares at the man in the black armor. She can see him through the clear transparisteel wall of the vacuum chamber.

Seven minutes. That's all the time she has before she suffocates.

And she has no doubts that those who hold her will kill her once she loses consciousness. She can feel that, in the tight iron mental control of her captors.

She sees another walk in. Dressed in black armor, but without a helmet. Jacen. Hope soars for a second. Then crashes with the cold sparkle of his eyes.

---

Nine

Nine years.

It had been nine years since the last time he had felt the sun on his skin. Even longer since he had felt the cool touch of the Force. As he stands outside the warehouse where his father's cousin had imprisoned him, he glorifies in the sensations of both.

He knows that his touching the Force, his pulling it to him in this way, is causing ripples which can be felt around the galaxy.

With a grin he realizes he doesn't care.

He almost dances as he announces to every Force user out there, that he has returned.

Greater Than the Sum of Their Parts: Chapter Six

Luke stands at the front of the room, leaning against the large desk set off to the side of the stage. He watches as the three pairs of people enter the room: Han and Leia; Tahiri and Noelani; and finally Zekk and Jaina.

As they settle into seats on the front row, he gives them a small smile. “I have some missions for you.”

Han speaks up. “Does it involve us bringing Jacen back in line?”

Luke sighs. “We’ve had that discussion. Han, Leia, I need you to go back to Corellia and judge the fallout from Thrackan’s assassination. Find out if they’re more willing to fall in line now that he’s dead.”

He glances towards Jaina and Zekk. “Jaina, Zekk, I want you two to sneak into Corellia and support Han and Leia.”

As he receives nods from the two of them, he turns towards Tahiri and Noelani. “And finally, I need you two to go visit Lorrd. There was a Jedi assigned there, named Nelani Dinn. I want you two to find out what happened to her.”

He smiles as he gets affirmatives from both of the blondes, even as he wonders at the wisdom of allowing this apprenticeship to continue.

“Are there any questions? Good. You’ll find the usual data packets on your terminals, as well as an allowed supply list. May the Force be with you.”

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

Tahiri and Noelani walk out of the meeting room, the younger girl nearly bouncing with her every step. She grins up at Tahiri.

“Aren’t you excited? We’re going on a mission!”

Tahiri chuckles slightly. “You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

They continue the rest of the way to their quarters in silence. Upon arriving, Tahiri quickly throws together a travel bag, and then pulls up the data packet for the mission. Reading over the parameters, where they should start.

Her eyes widen slightly as she reads just who it was that the Jedi was last seen with, and wonders how this applies to Han’s outburst about Jacen during the briefing.

A thud attracts her attention, and she turns to see Noelani standing over two large bags, stuffed to overflowing. Tahiri lifts her eyebrow slightly. “That’s a lot of stuff.”

Noelani bobs her head. “But I need it all. I’ve got dinner wear, clothes for the forest, and clothes for the beach, and then hair supplies.”

Tahiri suppresses a chuckle, and shakes her head. “Nope. You get one bag,” Tahiri points to her bag. “That sized. Just take Jedi outfits.”

Noelani sighs, and drags the bags back to her room, grumbling slightly under her breath.

As soon as the girl returns to her room, Tahiri laughs, and looks back at the datapad, picking up her reading from where she left off. Her eyes widen again, as she comes across the final instruction.

That she is not to question, or inform, Jacen Solo about this mission.

Frowning, Tahiri turns on her terminal, and flips through to her files of holostills. She finds the appropriate one, and opens it. The image flickers into life, showing her and her friends all together on Yavin. Herself, Anakin, Jaina, Jacen, Zekk, Tenel Ka, Rayner, Lusa, Numa and Alema. A group pile of shining happy faces.

What’s happened to us? We were so happy. So innocent.

Noelani’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “I’m ready, Master.”

Tahiri waves the image away, and pockets the datapad, standing up to find the girl standing with her travel bag slung over her shoulder, a slight pout on her lips.

Tahiri bends down and picks up her own travel bag, and starts walking towards the door. Before long, they’re boarding the registered transport which will take them to Lorrd.

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Jacen sits in his office on Coruscant, his eyes flickering between the seven flatscreen displays, each displaying a different newsfeed. His mind is flying, trying to work out what act of terrorism the Corellians will attempt next.

His terminal pings. And lifting an eyebrow he turns to it, seeing the message from an anonymous source on Ossus. He opens the file, and spits out a curse. He quickly deletes the file, and all traces to it. Then he pulls out his comlink, and enters in a number.

Lumiya’s voice comes out over it. “Yes, Jacen?”

“My uncle has sent a Jedi to Lorrd trying to find out what happened to Nelani. I need you to deal with that. I can’t leave Coruscant right now.”

“I will do what I can. Do you know which Jedi it was?”

“Tahiri Veila and her apprentice, Noelani Darklighter.”

“It will be done.”

The comlink goes dead, and he stares at it for a moment longer. “Force forgive me. I’m sorry it came to this Tahiri.”

He puts the comlink to the side, and once more starts looking at the flatscreens. All thoughts and concerns for Tahiri pushed out of his mind.

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

Ulya sits in her meditation chambers, the lambents dimmed to a bare orange glow, the smells of the living ship swirling around her, mixed with the acrid smoke of the four tallow candles situated around her. She pulls out a new one from a small bag next to her, and kisses it gently.

“Ahh Tyre, you should have been a better second in command.”

She sets the new one in front of her, and pulls a lighter biot from her pouch, igniting the candle, savoring its distinct smell.

Grinning, she begins her meditations, letting the Jeedai Force flow over, through, around and within her.

Savoring the feelings of agony coming from the slaves in the hold beneath her, their fears, grief and pain feeding her connection and her power.

Then a villip strums, interrupting her meditations and she growls at the thing.

Quickly standing, she walks over to it, and strokes it to life. The leathery ball rolls back onto itself, resolving into the likeness of Ulya’s Master. The infidel who taught her the ways of the Force.

Lumiya.

She bows her head. “What are your orders Mistress?”

“There are two Jedi heading towards the planet Lorrd. Their names are Tahiri Veila and Noelani Darklighter. I have sent images of their likenesses to the Festering Wound’s qahsa. You are to destroy them.”

Ulya bows her head again. “It will be done, my Master.”

The villip rolls back up onto itself and Ulya strides from her chambers, returning to the bridge. As she enters the warriors slam their fists against their cuirasses, a gesture of respect which she ignores. She walks forward to the pilot.

“I am ordering us to head to the infidel planet Lorrd.”

The pilot bobs his head. “I obey.”

She turns towards the commander in charge of the troops. A massive Yuuzhan Vong, his black armor as pitted and scared as his exposed flesh. She grins at him, a sneer which pulls her tattered lips away from her teeth. “Commander Pilk Shai, prepare a hunting party of warriors. Outfit them with masquers. We are to hunt Jeedai soon.”

She watches as the warriors face splits into a fearsome smile. “It will be done, Milady.”

With a bounce to his step, the commander turns from her and as he leaves the bridge, he barks an order to the guards stationed there to follow him.

Ulya turns back to the view of darkspace, a light shining in her eyes as she contemplates her upcoming task.

Themed Drabbles Set 18

Eyes

They haunt his dreams.

Bright shining orbs, dollops of bright, crystallized viridian, the color of the shallow seas of Perimor IV. The eyes are framed by a pretty face and unbounded hair – hair that is bright in its own way, the yellow of a star or the hue of Adumarian star flowers.

He doesn't know who they belong to or where he has seen them before.

All he knows is that they're inordinately important to him.

He needs them. He doesn't know how or why, it's one of the things he cannot explain. But it is something he knows instinctively.

---

Nose

The smell assaults his nose, a burning fire ripping through his nostrils - attacking the sensitive sinus membranes.

He opens his eyes to see the room around him burning. Large, burned gashes in the wall bleed black ichor. Arrayed around him are a dozen Yuuzhan Vong warriors and shapers. Their bodies twisted and contorted by burns and pains which he doesn't feel or understand.

He coughs once; the acrid stench of some arcane creature leaving an oily taste on top of his tongue.He tries to speak; what comes out is a harsh growl - as much animal as human.

---

Ears

He becomes aware of his ears as he tries to sit up straighter in whatever it is that holds him. As he does, a sharp, shooting pain strikes at his inner ear, as the room he's in wavers in and out of focus.

He closes his eyes, waiting as the waves of nausea and dizziness fades away.

The low tone which has been ringing in his ears since he awakened finally fades away, allowing the dull throb in the front of his head to retreat slightly. He tries to sit up again, pushing against the fibrous roots which hold him.

---

Throat

"Hello?"

He feels knives scrapping the inside of his throat as he speaks. A tickling sensation in the back of his throat; He coughs and spits out a mass of thin white fibers.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

Speaking still feels like someone ripping parts of his throat out, or shoving hot coals down it. He swallows, and ignores the pain.

Scanning the room once again, he wonders where he is at. The last thing he remembers was the fight over Myrkr - the battle to destroy all the existing clone tissues.

He runs his hand down the side of his body.

---

Skin

He frowns, his skins feels different. Leathery. Older. He shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his head. He finally struggles out of the container he had been in. He brushes away the last of the thin fibers from his shoulders. The movements causing him to shudder - an instinctive action caused by the feel and texture of his skin. He spies a reflective surface and glances into it.

Sound escapes his lips - a groan of confusion and surprise. His eyes are still their bright, shining blue, yet his skin is the grey of a Yuuzhan Vong.

Themed Drabbles Set 17

Nothing

Sweat drips in Jacen’s reptilian eyes. The stifling heat chokes him, the smoke that twines its way around the Fountain Palace’s landing field grabs at his breath. The hiss of his saber sounds like a nest of angry hornets.

He stares at the shade standing across the platform from him. The dark robes which are a mirror image of his own.

He yells at the shade, his voice sounds dry, raspy. “It doesn’t matter anymore! Nothing matters anymore!”

A part of his brain notes that it sounds as broken as he feels.

Jacen tenses his muscles, and prepares to strike.

---

Everything

Jacen darts forward, his blade slicing in, hard and fast. The shade just slips away. Out of the path. Jacen lands, his lungs screaming at the exertion, at the need for more, cleaner oxygen.

He ignores the pain and strikes again.

This time the shade ignites his own blade. A purple light which catches Jacen’s green blade.

Ice-cold eyes stare out at him from the depths of the cowl; a voice which haunts his dreams speaks to him.

“Everything always matters, Jace. That’s what you never figured out. It always matters. And it matters most, when we think it doesn’t.”

---

Now

Everything Jacen has fought for this past decade, longer, boils down to this single moment - a fulcrum of possibilities and potentials. He faces the shade of his brother, who is somehow, inconceivably, back from the dead.

Their blades meet, and Jacen pulls on the Force. Grabs and pulls that power to him, twisting it around him, as he himself has become twisted by it.

Energy, dark and terrible, erupts from his fingers, hurtling towards Anakin.

The Shade just raises his blade, and catches the lightning. His calm, cool demeanor angers Jacen even more.

The lightning fades and Jacen attacks.

---

Forever

It seems like forever.

Forever have they fought this battle.

Forever has he missed his little brother.

Forever has he wanted to hug him once again.

Forever he has wanted to tell him that he is sorry.

Forever has he wanted to be told the Anakin forgave him.

Yet Jacen ignores all of that.

For him, forever is just a point of view.

He gives himself back to the battle, letting the Force guide his blade, seeking an opening in his little brother’s defenses.

He hears a small voice in the back of his head. Must it be this way?

---

Fate

Call it fate, destiny, happenstance. It doesn’t matter. Just whatever force or power directs things, has lead everyone, everything, to this point. To this battle.

Light versus Dark. Brother against brother.

They are both scions of the Chosen One. Each an aspect of Anakin Skywalker’s choice. They battle one another, as his conscious battled itself so many years ago.

Neither able to stop, neither certain of they should continue.

Anakin grabs Jacen’s neck, as Jacen’s blade slides through him. Anakin grins, and shows the primed thermal detonator.

“I win, Jace. I could live or die, so long as you’re stopped.”

Themed Drabbles Set 16

Happy

Corran watches his two-year-old little girl, as she twirls in the garden which her great-grandfather tends so carefully. Her sun dress spins - the floral print which edges it flicker around and through the leaves of the colorful blossoms in which she dances. He smiles as he realizes that she dances in the midst of his grandfather's Jedi strain of hybrids.

The bright yellow and red flowers nestled amidst the green of the leaves blends with the pink of Jysella's dress.

She suddenly stops, facing him - her eyes shine with laughter, and dimples touch her cheeks.

"Dada! Dada! Dada!"

---

Gloomy

He's settled into a simple chair. A thing of bent metal, and bare padding, designed for efficiency rather than comfort. Yet he's a Jedi, a little something like physical discomfort will not, could not, discourage him from his vigil. Corran sits up straighter, his back creaking slightly and opens his eyes. He glances around the room, noting that while he dozed, a storm had come up, and cast the hospital room deep into shadows. He turns to the bed and sees Jysella there, the only sounds the steady beep of her heart rate and the whispering hiss of the respirator.

---

Stressed

Corran sits in the comfortable chair of the living room. In one hand he holds a half-full tumbler of Whyren's Reserve while in the other is the hilt of his lightsaber. He glances at the objects in his hands, and then looks to the young man sitting across from him. He takes a sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol as he swallows.

"You know if you touch her, it will go badly for you."

Fear lights the boy's eyes, and he quickly nods. "Y-yes sir."

A cough attracts their attentions, and Corran sees his little girl in the doorway.

---

Content

He sees the attendants ushered from the room where Jysella is getting ready for her wedding. He quickly comes forward and raps on the door once quickly. He feels her Force presence brush his.

"Come in, Daddy."

He steps into the room. She is dressed in the traditional blue of a Corellian wedding dress. Small blue flowers are twinned into her hair, and her saber hilt hangs proudly at her hip. She gives him a half-smile, even as the tears glisten in her eyes.

"I love you, Princess."

"I know, Daddy. And I love you."

His view of her blurs.

---

Cranky

He sits on the edge of the bed. Looking around at the room's decorations. The soft gentle touches which his little girl adorned her room in. A frown creases his face as realization once more hits him that she is no longer his little girl. Rather she's a married woman now. All grown up, with a family of her own.

"Don't be so cranky, she'll always be your little girl."

Corran turns to find Mirax leaning against the doorjamb, a smile on her face.

"You sure you're not the Jedi?"

She laughs, and walks to him to kiss his cheek.

A Life Not His Own: Chapter 13

Jaina winces as the pain rolls away from her stomach, and lets out a sharp yell of excitement as the power on her ship comes back on. She starts flicking switches, and shunts power to her shields and other systems.

“Great going Cappie!” The droid tootles happily at her, and she starts flipping through the various screens which detail what is in the system, and something catches her eye. Her brow creases, as she leans closer to the screen. Sitting back, she pours power into the repulsers, using them to direct her ship to the closest one, scanning it with the rudimentary sensors found onboard every X-Wing.

As she nears it, she recognizes it for what it is, a large dovin basil. She frowns wondering what it is doing out here. She scans looking for another one, and finds it a few kilometers off and closer to the star. Then another, and then another.

She does a wide spectrum scan and finds a line of them, stretching from the sun to the remains of the still burning worldship.

A deep hate and rage erupts in her, as she growls out Kyp’s name. She flicks on her com. “Rogue Leader, this is Sticks.”

She can the hear relief in Gavin’s voice. “Sticks! Happy you could rejoin us.”

The joy in Gavin’s voice relieves some of the anger, but it is still burning bright in her stomach. “Copy that Lead, but there’s something down here, I, I think you need to see it.”

Concern fills his voice. “On my way Sticks.”

Jaina allows her ship to wait there by the dovin basil, the anger still boiling within her. Finally Gavin arrives in his X-Wing.

“What did you need me to…Oh.”

“Yes sir and they stretch from the sun to the worldship.”

She imagines him gritting his teeth. “I see. Well get back to the Ralroost, we’re about to leave the system.”

“Yes sir.”

She applies power thrust to her engines slowly, and accelerates until her ship begins to shudder under the stress. Easing back on the thrust, she heads towards the Ralroost.

The air of excitement and celebration in the hanger bay nauseates her, and she lands her craft. Ignoring her post-flight checklist she pushes open the canopy and stumbles out, her body rebelling at her demands to stand up straight after being cramped in the fighter for too long with the phantom pain coming from her Aunt Mara.

She gasps and grabs at her side, a grimace marring her features, and her eyes squeeze shut, as pain slices through her. She opens her eyes, and blows out a breath. That was not as bad as the others.

She straightens, and scans the crowds. A horn blares, and Jaina looks out the magfield and sees the swirls of hyperspace. She once more starts looking around at those gathered, trying to find the person she wants to hit. Another contraction flows to her from her aunt, and she winces.

Finally she sees him.

A low growl comes from her throat as she stalks over to him. A light shines in his eyes, as his back is being pounded by the pilots in his Dozen. He looks down at her, one corner of his lips tugged into a superior smirk.

Another wave of pain crashes against her and Jaina is lost to her anger.

The thud of her fist colliding with his chin, stops all the yelling and celebrations. He crumples to the floor, where she quickly plants her foot in his stomach. A wave of her hand causes flecks of blood to splatter on the ground around her. Jaina looks at her hand and starts to suck the bloody knuckle while she continues to stare at Kyp as he picks himself up off the floor.

She moves the knuckle from her mouth. “You…you…” Anger flares again, as she is unable of something appropriate vile to call him. Both of her fists tighten, her body trembling as she suppresses the urge to once more start hitting on him. With an effort of will, she unclenches her fists.

A malicious light appears in Kyp’s eyes. “Come on Princess; tell me what you truly think.”

Her fist balls, a sliver of agony, which calls out to be used against him again. “You kriffing schutta. How dare you!”

“How dare I what Princess?” His voice drips venom and sarcasm on the last word.

She gestures to the pilots and flight crew around them. “Why don’t you tell them the truth, tell them what we really fought out there. Tell them that it wasn’t a Yuuzhan Vong superweapon that their friends died for today.”

Kyp shrugs. “It wasn’t. It was a standard, run of the mill worldship. A civilian craft.”

“Why Kyp! Why?”

Kyp leans down so his face can be closer to her. “To send a message to the Vong.”

Quiet hangs over the hanger. Jaina’s eyes narrows. “What kind of message?”

He raises his voice so everyone in the hanger can hear him. “That they are not safe. That their civilians are not safe. They have walked over our worlds, enslaved our civilian populations, they destroyed Ithor! But until now we have only destroyed military craft.”

“We’re supposed to be better than that!” Her voice echoes in the cavernous hanger.

“We are, but now we have hit them where it hurts, we destroyed the hope for their civilians still outside the galaxy. From what I understand some of their worldships don’t have the ability to get into our galaxy. So the Vong can use warships to ferry people, or let them die. Regardless it tells the Vong that if our people are not safe from their depravations, then neither are theirs safe from ours.”

As he finishes his speech, a number of the pilots in the crowd cheer for him. Too many for Jaina’s peace of mind.

“But you used me to do it. Now those deaths are on me, they’re partly my fault.”

Kyp shrugs his shoulders again. “The galaxy doesn’t revolve around you, Princess. You never had a home world; you don’t understand what it means to these people out here. To know that their worlds, their families and friends are suffering under the Vong, killed or turned into slaves or worse. We’ve just given the Vong a small sampling of what that tastes like.”

Jaina’s fist is connected with his chin again before she has conscious thought that she is going to hit him. Another growl rolls from her throat as he falls to the ground. Pulling back her foot she quickly kicks him and pulls her saber.

As she ignites it, hands grab her arms, trying to pull her away from him, and she can hear Gavin’s voice in her ear. “Stand down Jaina. He’s not worth it.”

She glances towards him, and then looks over the other shoulder to see Wedge, who is staring at her with understanding in his eyes. “Gavin’s right, Jaina - don’t do this.”

She heaves a deep breath, and extinguishes her saber. Glaring down at Kyp she spits on him. “I never want to see you again Durron.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

She moves to kick him again, stopping herself at the last minute. “I hate you.”

His laughter haunts her as she walks from him, almost as much as the final words he says to her. “I love you though, Princess.”

She sees one of the technicians who is looking over her X-wing. She stops beside him, fighting back the tears. “Please get my fighter repaired.”

Startled the technician looks at her, and snaps a hasty salute. “Yes ma’am.”

She leaves the hanger, a numbness crawling up her chest, and settling into her heart. Arriving at her assigned cabin, she unzips the flightsuit and shrugs out of it, allowing it to fall to the floor in a pile. She collapses onto the bed, and buries her face into her pillow as the tears start flowing freely, and her small frame is wracked with sobs.

Finally she sleeps.

She awakens to find herself screaming her aunt’s, her master’s, her mentor’s name. It echoes within the small cabin as a fire rages throughout her stomach and groin. Pain floods her from the bond she shares with Mara. She curls up into a ball as the pain crests.

And then it is gone.

She sits up, her brows scrunched in confusion. The other pains tapered off, this one just disappeared. Then she smiles, her new cousin must have been born. She probes her Aunt Mara, and just gets a feeling of exhaustion and completion, and then she probes Luke, and feels that blast of happiness and awe.

She lies back on the bed, finally slipping under the ships, when the Force wails with her Uncle Luke’s grief. A wall of it, of those dark emotions slams into her. She stretches out to find Mara, reaches further into the Force than she ever has before.

And finds nothing.

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

Jacen frowns as a wave of black grief rolls over him. He looks skyward for a moment, before resuming batting the blaster bolts back towards the advancing Peace Brigade.

A name rolls off his tongue, a whisper, a prayer. A eulogy. “Aunt Mara.”

He looks around, wondering why he decided to come to this Force-forsaken planet again. Then he remembers, this is where his brother was last seen, at least as himself.

A flash of red flying past his head, reminds him that he needs to focus on what is in front of him. His aunt is dead, and if he doesn’t pay attention that could very well be his own fate.

A twist of the wrist and another bolt flies away from him, this time striking the devaronian who shot it at him. Jacen sighs, wondering why these Peace Brigades would think they could take him.

He feels a tug in the Force, and looks to the top of a building. There is Ganner, a grin on his face as he peers over the edge, watching those advancing against Jacen.

A question rolls through the Force, and Jacen shrugs his shoulder in reply. Then Ganner leaps, landing behind the Peace Brigade troops, and igniting his saber. He has three of them down on the ground missing body parts before the first one is able to turn around and face him.

To Ganner’s laughter, Jacen darts forward and attacks, always going for a disabling blow rather than a killing one.

As the last one falls, Jacen and Ganner extinguish their sabers, and Jacen leans down to talk to the leader of this cell of the Peace Brigade.

He holds a still image of Anakin up before the man’s face. “I’m looking for my brother.”

“Kriff off Jedi!”

The sound of running feet attracts the two Jedi’s attention. In unison they look down the alley and see the group advancing. Even with the distance separating them, they can see the brandished weapons, and can feel the aggression rolling through the Force.

Jacen sighs as he looks at Ganner. “No time to question him. Let’s get out of here.”

Ganner nods his head, and they run further down the street, ducking into an alley. As soon as they got out of sight of the crowd, they use the Force to leap to the top of the buildings, and go that way to the spaceport.

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

Anakin sits in his meditation pose, letting the waves of agony wash over and through him. Then they stop, and Anakin reaches out once more, and can feel his uncle’s joy shining in the Force.

He can feel a smile stretch his features under the mask, happy at the knowledge that he now has a cousin.

Then Luke’s Force presence alters, changing from shining joy to overwhelming grief.

A grief which he finds curiously reflected in the Tahiri-shaped hole still in his heart. Scared he reaches for Mara, trying to find her in the Force. He can feel his Uncle doing the same, and for the first time since Tahiri’s death isn’t concerned if his Uncle finds him through the Force.

His only concern is not allowing his Aunt to die.

“NO!”

His scream echoes throughout Bast Castle, and Anakin pours more of his self into the Force, pushing at keeping Mara from death. He grasps her presence in the Force, pulls on it, against it. Refusing to let it go, refusing to let her go into the Force. It is slippery, and slides through his grip.

As the tears streak behind the mask, he can hear his Aunt’s voice. Calm, collected, professional.

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

As he screams his rage and sadness, he feels comforting arms wrap around him. Holding him tightly, crushing him against her. He collapses into Nelani’s embrace as his body shakes with his sobs.

Greater Than the Sum of Their Parts: Chapter Five

Leia Organa-Solo stands off to the side, dressed in her usual flowing white robes, watching calmly as her husband works off his frustration. Han Solo is pacing in front of Luke’s desk, an angry scowl clouding his face, contorting his features subtly out of shape.

Of more interest to her is the stillness between Luke and Mara. A strained tension which hums in the room like an exposed power conduit.

Mara notices her stare and Leia quirks an eyebrow at her, her eyes flickering to Luke for a second. An implied question. Mara gives her head a brief shake, sadness flashing over her features for a moment before her face once more settles into the stillness of a Jedi Master.

Han stops pacing, deciding instead to confront the problem he came here for head on. Han slaps his hand on the desk in front of Luke and says, “He’s interning people, Luke. It’s something the Empire did. Shoving folks into jail just because of what planet they’re from. He killed someone while interrogating her.”

Luke shrugs, the only hint of emotion on his face except a slight gathering of his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you expect me to do Han. He’s performing his duties as leader of the Guard.”

Han gives his head a shake of frustration. “I want you to fix it. He’s a Jedi and you’re the head of the Order.”

“My hands are tied here.”

“Don’t you get it? He killed someone while interrogating her. Just like Vader’s troops did to your aunt and uncle.”

Luke sucks in a breath of air, and Leia knows that Han just hit a sore spot. Luke stands up, placing his fist on his desk and leans towards Han. A gesture Leia has seen him use to intimidate Jedi trainees in the past.

“There is nothing we can do here Han. Let it drop.”

Of course Han doesn’t intimidate easily. “This is because he’s training Ben isn’t it.”

Leia shakes her head, putting her hand over her eyes hoping that her husband doesn't say something to fully fracture his friendship with her brother. Han just continues talking. “You’re so worried over making sure Ben knows how to use the Force that you refuse to do what’s right and smack down Jacen for his misbehaving. But tell me this Luke, just what is my son teaching yours these days?”

Without another word, Han turns and storms out of the room. Leia watches him leave, and then turns back towards Luke and Mara, noticing Luke settle into his seat with a sigh. He looks up and sees his sister still standing there.

“What’s your opinion on this, Leia?”

Leia hesitates. She knows what he’s asking. What he is wondering. The question is deeper, more important, than just what she thinks of Jacen’s recent actions. It is a fundamental question of where she stands, on who she stands with.

Luke or Han.

She knows siding with Han now may be damaging to her career as a Jedi. It will hurt her relationship with Luke, Mara, Jacen and probably even Jaina.

But ultimately she knows that Han is right. Jacen is powerful, dangerous, willing to kill and getting more and more out of control with every day that passes.

Knowing that no matter how it may shatter her family, she has to do what she believes is right.

“I think Han’s right. You need to deal with Jacen, before he turns.”

Then she turns and starts to walks away pausing at the door. She stands there for a moment, her back to her brother, her hand over the door release. She bows her head, her heart breaking with what she is about to admit. “If it’s not too late already.”

Then she steps through the doorway, following Han’s path out of the office area. She catches up to Han as he is leaving the Temple, she grabs his hand, and they begin to walk calmly through the landscaped grounds around which are setup around the training facility on Ossus, finally happening upon an open field were the students will do martial arts training.

They step out onto the field, and notice a pair of girls, performing an intricate series of katas with long Gaderfii. The pair’s blonde hair spins around their respective body, each of them dressed in the loose robes of a Jedi, neither wearing shoes, though Leia does see a pair off to the side, out of the way.

She nudges Han. “That’s Tahiri.”

Han grunts slightly. “She’s grown.”

Leia looks at him from the corner of her eye, and sees his trademark grin flicker across his face. Finally with dual thuds, the performance ends, and Leia looks forward to see both of them in matching poses, the club end of the Gaffi Stick embedded in the ground.

Tahiri looks up at them, a wide grin splitting her face. She touches the younger girl’s shoulder, and starts forward. They stop a short distance from them, and Leia can’t help but look back and forth between the two of them.

A blush flickers to life on Tahiri’s face, as she glances at the younger girl. “Leia? Is there something wrong?”

Han ignores the exchange and goes forward and wraps his arms around Tahiri giving her a tight hug. He lets her go, as Leia steps forward for a hug.

Leia releases her, and shakes her head slightly. “No, nothing is wrong. It’s just that you two could be sisters.”

Startled, Tahiri glances over at the younger girl. “Oh. I guess you’re right, we do look a lot alike. Han, Leia, this is my apprentice, Noelani Darklighter. Noelani these are Anakin’s parents, Han and Leia Solo.”

Noelani bows to them, and Leia lifts an eyebrow. “A pleasure to meet you, Noelani. Darklighter? Are you related to Gavin?”

Noelani grins. “He’s my cousin. Well not really, I’m adopted. Gavin’s uncle, Huff, is my father. I grew up on Tatooine just like Tahiri, though I wasn’t raised by the Tuskens.”

Leia notices Tahiri raising her hand gently, and laughs, recognizing the gesture as one which Tionne would give Tahiri when Tahiri was a student on Yavin IV.

Noelani tilts her head, a blush cropping up on her cheeks. “Sorry.”

Tahiri smiles indulgently at her apprentice. “It’s perfectly fine, Noelani.”

Han barks a laugh. “Turn about’s fair play, eh kid?”

Leia and Tahiri both glower at Han, while Noelani gives him a confused look. “I don’t understand Mr. Solo?”

Han smiles lopsidedly. “Call me Han, kid. As for what I’m talking about, your Master here used to talk more than you do. You could barely get a word in edgewise. You know that little hand gesture she gave you, you ought to ask her how many times she got it when she was your age.”

Noelani turns her wide-eyes onto Tahiri, while Leia turns on Han. “That’s not helping Tahiri keep the respect of her apprentice.”

Han laughs again, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, the kid’s crazy about her Master. Besides, what’s Luke going to do to me? Exile me to Dagobah?”

Before Leia can open her mouth to chastise him further, both hers and Tahiri’s comlinks begin to chirp. Leia pulls hers out, reading the message on it, and sighs. “We got a mission.”

Tahiri nods her head. “Us too. Come on Nelani, grab your shoes and let’s get to the meeting room.

A Life Not His Own: Chapter 12

Anakin is deep within his meditations, the cold, harsh comfort of the Force all around him, off to one side, he can make out Nelani, a beacon of light and strength, with slowly darkening edges.

For a second, he wonders if he should be worried over that, if dragging Nelani into the Dark Side with him is something he should do. If he should sacrifice that light, that joy and happiness on the alter of his revenge. Then he pushes the concern from his mind as he remembers his mission. All other things pale beside the need for revenge. Morality, ethics, compassion, those are things he can have once again after he has destroyed the Vong.

Love he expects to never have again.

Yet here in the cold grip of the Dark Side of the Force, that is fine with him. The Force sustains him and grants him, not peace, but acceptance. Yet he wonders as to the fate of his family. It has been a long time since he has seen them, or heard from them.

He subtly touches his sister, for the first time in almost two months, he can feel the calm, collected attention of Jaina in battle, and withdraws, not wishing to distract her. After all she is killing Vong.

He reaches out to his mother, and feels her concern and worry. With a start he realizes that it is mostly concern and worry for him, about him. Frowning he withdraws, and pushes away the uncomfortable feeling that creeps into his heart at causing his mother such pain.

Then he reaches for his Aunt Mara. He growls as he can feel the sickness battering at her, destroying her cells as she fights with all she is to save her unborn child. That sickness is another thing which the Vong shall pay for, Nom Anor in particular.

Then the pain hits him.

It washes over him, starting in his stomach and flowing through out his body from there. He screams in agony, as the pain fades away.

He finds himself bent over his knees, and Nelani is there, touching his back, whispering questions of concern. Anakin sits up, and looks at her, once more glad the mask hides his fears and features. He takes a deep breath, overriding the breathing mechanism, and exhales. He allows himself to look over his apprentice as she kneels in front of him, her obvious concern for him, unsettling to him somehow.

Also oddly unsettling to him is the demur nature with which she kneels in front of him. The coyness, mixed with brashness, shyness standing before the power she is learning to command. It is an oddly compelling mixture, and he fights an urge to lift her in his arms, and spin her around the room, in one of those ornate Alderaanian Waltzes his mother had him learn while he was growing up.

He can hear a whisper in his mind, telling him that she could be his.

With an effort he waves her concern away, and ignores the whisper. “I am fine Nelani. There is just a disturbance in the Force.”

Nelani cocks her head slightly. “I felt nothing Master.”

Anakin chuckles, pleased at her observation. “That is because the disturbance is from my aunt. She is either giving birth or dying.”

Nelani starts to stand. “Then should we not go to her?”

Anakin waves at her to sit down as pain once more rips through him. As it fades he straightens once more. “No. There is nothing we can do there, and if we did go, we would most likely be detained. The others might not understand what we’re doing out here, why I took up this mask.”

The confusion shows on her face. “I understand Master.”

Anakin places his hand on her shoulder. “I know you don’t often understand why I do things, but I promise, one day you will. Now go, practice your katas, I fear I may be,” Anakin pauses, considering his next word. “Incapacitated for the next few hours.”

In one quick, graceful movement, Nelani stands and bows. “I obey Master.” Then she is walking from the room, and Anakin can’t help but watch how she moves.

Then the pain strikes again; doubling him over as the waves of agony wash over him.

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

Nelani dances.

Even though she knows that they are called katas, even though she knows it’s the basics of fighting with her lightsaber, the basics of all fighting with the Jedi arts, that isn’t how she defines it to herself.

To her it’s always a dance. The Dance.

Graceful, powerful, seductive.

She struggles with some of the things which Lord Vader teaches her. Telekinesis, precognition, sending and sharing thoughts with him, they all cause her various amounts of troubles while she learned them, and even afterwards.

She flat out refused to attempt to learn how to absorb blaster bolts.

Yet the katas, the Dance, she has loved from the moment Lord Vader showed them to her. Then when he and the two Noghri taught her more and more fighting techniques, and taught her how to layer them into her katas, she loved it even more.

The hum of the saber, the movement of her body. A twist, a jump, a slash, and a stab. The simple mechanical ability of The Dance enhanced and assisted by the Force. If she practices for one hour or four, she finds a smile on her face more often than not.

She considers the Dance, considers it a simple thing, a remembrance of life before the Yuuzhan Vong, before they decimated Lorrd. When all she had to worry about was her next dance recital, rather than having to learn how to evade Vong patrols, or how to stop blasters on the blade of her lightsaber.

The graceful movements, reminds her of home. When she was surrounded by her mother and father and sister. Not when her only companion was a broken hero, wearing the armor of his dead grandfather.

One of the reasons that she loves this dance is that this dance allows her to protect herself and the galaxy. It allows her to be a line in the sand, protecting those who are unable to protect themselves. She sees it as a step to keep what happened to her family, from happening to other families.

The other reason she loves the Dance, is the simple fact that she can lose herself in the Dance. The demands of the flesh, the simple exertion of muscles, it is that which she can pour her concerns and worries into, her thoughts and dreams, until she is simply the Dance as well.

She can pour her concerns and feelings over and for her Master into the Dance.

Yet even though she knows that the more she practices them, the more she learns, the deadlier she becomes; to her it is still just a dance, The Dance.

Unknown to her, in an earlier, happier time her Master would have called it Meditation in Motion, and would often practice it himself. Doing some exercises over and over again until exhaustion would quiet his mind.

Nelani finishes her katas, and sinks to the mat, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. A quick glance at the chrono reveals that she has been here for a little over an hour already. She allows a smile to come to her face as she stands and heads to her room. As she walks, her muscles settle in, begin contracting, protesting her overuse of them during her training. She allows a smile to come to her face, remembering what her Master said the first time she did the katas, when she complained about her screaming muscles, “If it doesn’t hurt, you’re not doing it right.”

She can feel the pain which still periodically comes off her master, waves of agony coming through him from his aunt. She quickly strips and gets cleaned up in the refresher, allowing the water to wash away the sweat and tension, allowing the water to soothe her tired muscles.

Getting out, she has an idea, and sits down in front of her terminal, a smile on her face. She has a piece of the puzzle of who exactly Lord Vader is. Quickly accessing the holonet, she searches to find out which of the Jedi Knights are pregnant, and most importantly pregnant enough to be going into labor right now, and which of those pregnant Jedi Knights has family.

She leans back in her chair as the system performs her request. Within moments, a result appears on the screen, and Nelani’s eyes widen. Her hand covers her mouth as she leans forward closer to the terminal. As she follows a link to an image, she has to wonder which brother is behind the mask.

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

Luke is sitting near Mara’s head, her clammy hand grasped in his, as he stares off into space, wondering how he can fix everything.

Now Farmboy.

Startled he focuses his attention on her face. Her eyes are still closed, and face is immobile. He frowns, certain that he had heard her voice.

It is time.

Opening his mouth slightly, it takes him a second to process that he is feeling and hearing her through the Force. He calls out for Cilghal, and grips Mara’s hand tighter.

“What do you need me to do Mara?”

There is no answer, and Luke probes her with the Force, nearly wailing in despair at how far gone her body has become.

He closes his eyes and plunges into the Force, seeing the darkness which surrounds and consumes his wife. Pain, loneliness, fear, misery, betrayal, jealousy, hate, sickness, death. All the negativity of life pulses out at him.

He forges ahead, fighting her disease, attacking it, pushing against the darkness.

Ultimately, he starts to become overwhelmed by the darkness. He can feel the darkness within him offering him the chance to save her. The chance to avenge her.

No!

The word echoes around in his mind. A command, an imperative, and Luke blinks, stopping his attack.

Not the way.

Luke frowns, confused. He silently wonders what his wife expects from him. He sends his confusion to her through their bond.

Attack. Not the way.

At her simple reply he almost laughs. Then he calms himself, centers his focus, and pushes the darkness away. He gathers the Force to him, and probes her body once more; searching for her, searching for that quality, that essential essence which he has always defined as Mara.

He finds it wrapped tightly around his son.

Walls of armor and shielding represented in the Force by durasteel and barbed wire. He goes up to the shields, and searches for a way inside.

“Mara you have to let me in.”

Her voice is weak. “Skywalker?”

“Yes, let me in.”

A crack appears, and Luke darts in to find himself faced with another set of shields. He searches for another entrance, and just as he is about to give up, finds a small crack which he slips through.

Finally he reaches the center, and finds his wife there with his son.

He caresses his wife, embracing her through the Force. “It is time Mara.”

She nods her head. “I know.”

He pours his strength and love into her, as the first of her labor pains contract around her, mind shattering agony which spreads through the Force.

For hours the waves of agony wash against Luke and the strength he pours down to Mara, then his concentration is shattered by the wailing of a newborn baby, the braying of new lungs exerting themselves. Luke opens his eyes, and sees Cilghal there holding his son. A smile lights up his face, as he turns towards Mara.

When he sees her his smile dies.

Her skin ashen and grey before has gone even paler; her presence in the Force slowly dimming. Screaming her name, he plunges back into the Force, grasping for her. He can feel Anakin reaching out to her as well, his own powerful Force presence, working in conjunction with Luke’s to keep Mara from dying.

He feels her communicating with Anakin, trying to help him understand. Then she focuses on him for a second.

Take care of my son Farmboy. Love you.

“Mara!”

He grabs at her in the Force again, trying to find her, but her presence just slips away. She just slips away. He can hear his scream of her name echoing throughout the med center, drowning out the wails of his son. A sob wracks his body, as he holds Mara’s lifeless hand in his.

Greater Than the Sum of Their Parts: Chapter Four

Noelani is sitting on a bench at the side of the sparring area, watching her Master and Jaina Solo duel. Their blades flicker in a speedy series of attacks and parries, never staying still for more than a moment at a time. The sounds of the sabers ring in the cavernous room, the ever-changing hum occasionally followed by the crashing sound of the sabers connecting.

It is a sound that pulls at her, causes her to grin. Makes her want to get up, and take up one of the weapons herself.

Finally one of the duelers gets the better of the other, and Jaina’s voice rings out. “Point.”

Tahiri extinguishes her blade, and bows to Jaina, and then the two share a laugh over something Noelani can’t hear as they head towards her. She bounces up, a smile on her face for her Master.

Tahiri gives her head a quick shake. “Hello Noelani, how was your class today?”

“It was great, we learned about all sorts of things. But I didn’t like dissecting the amphibian. It smelled kind of funny. But there’s a starfighter piloting course starting next week that I was hoping I could attend. Do you think I’ll be able to? Please Master?”

Jaina barks a quick laugh, as she looks at Tahiri. “I think she talks more than you used to do.”

Then Jaina leans closer to Noelani. “Tell you what, if Toes here doesn’t let you do the piloting course, come see me, I’ll give you lessons.”

Tahiri smirks at Jaina, and waves her hand away. “You passed on the chance to corrupt a young apprentice, don’t be doing it to mine.”

Noelani watches the two old friends, waiting for a break in their banter to ask her question. Finally it comes.

“Toes?”

Jaina bursts out laughing. “You mean you haven’t noticed that she never wears shoes?”

Startled Noelani looks down and sees Tahiri’s bare feet, the toenails a shining, glossy pink. “Oh.”

Tahiri pushes Jaina away, and wraps her arms around Noelani. “Come on ‘Lani, we get to do something new today.”

Pulling her attention away from Tahiri’s toes, Noelani looks up at her Master with a smile. “What’s that?”

“Gaffi sticks!”

“What!”

“I’m going to teach you to fight with a Gaderfii.”

“Why not lightsabers?”

“Because if we ever visit my adopted father, you’ll need to know how to use a Gaderfii.

“Oh.”

Tahiri walks over to a weapons cabinet, and pulls out two of the long pieces of metal, and passes one to Noelani.

Noelani looks at the thing – a bar about the length of her leg, a lethal looking barbed spike on one end, the other end a bend which ended in a club head, with another barbed spike, but this one tapered to provide a small cutting edge.

She hefts the weapon, getting used to the weight and balance.

“Follow my actions.”

Noelani looks up at Tahiri, and sees her swinging the Gaderfii in a specific arch around her body, even at the slow speed which Tahiri uses, the weapon appears alive and dangerous in her Master’s hands.

Keeping her eyes on Tahiri, Noelani begins imitating the motions, swinging the staff around her body, a complicated series of jabs, arches and slashes.

Tahiri’s voice is strong and firm. “This is the training dance. It is taught to all Tuskens as the basis of fighting.”

Noelani nods her head, as she notices that Tahiri has finally started running through things she had done before. Soon Noelani begins to recognize the movements, anticipating which one Tahiri is going to do next.

She can hear pride in her Master’s voice. “Speed up.”

Noelani gives another brief nod, and begins stepping through the dance faster. She can feel the burn in her arms and shoulders from swinging the heavy weapon around her small frame.

“Faster.”

Noelani starts swinging the Gaderfii faster, keeping the staff moving in the same pattern which Tahiri showed her.

“Faster.”

Noelani grunts, the Gaderfii whirling around her body, a whistling noise accompanying it as it cuts through the air. A sheen of sweat coats her body.

“Faster.”

She has no energy to even reply to Tahiri now. She just begins going faster. A stitch crops up in her side, a pain stabbing deep through the muscles of her chest.

“Faster.”

She lets out a whimper, and starts going faster.

Then it happens.

A combination of the speed of the Gaderfii, the pain cropping up in her muscles, the sweat covering her body and her hands.

Before she can react, the Gaderfii is out of her hands. With the sound of shattering glass the Gaderfii is out the window, falling to the gardens below them.

In shock, Noelani stares at the broken window. Her eyes as wide as saucers she looks over at her Master. She finds Tahiri staring at her, the shock Nelani feels shining in Tahiri’s eyes.

Then Tahiri laughs. It is a bubbling, happy sound, one which Noelani finds infectious.

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The Festering Wound, deep space, just off the Hydian Way.

Ulya Tu sits in the command throne of her ship. Surrounding her are the lesser Yuuzhan Vong of her crew running their various stations. She watches the stars as they slowly slide past, her hand held low, absently scratching the head of a fero xyn, a large animal nearly the size of a vornskr, with short bristling fur covering its body, interrupted by the occasional underscale poking through.

The meaty sound of a fist thumping against the breastplate of vonduun crab cuirass attracts her attention, and she turns from the viewport to look at her second in command, Tyre Lah, as he stands at attention beside her.

She stares at him for a second, storm clouds gathering on her face. “What is it?”

“I want to know what we’re doing here. Why we’re just waiting. We want revenge against the Jeedai who embarrassed us – who shamed us.

Frowning, Ulya thrusts out her hand and forks of blue lightning flash into existence, striking the warrior. The blast picks him up and throws him against the wall of the vessel. Ulya gets off the throne, and stalks towards him.

“We do things when I say we do them. Not all the pieces are in place yet. I am awaiting word from my infidel slave concerning the state of the Jeedai before we go in for the slaughter.”

Ulya turns her back on the warrior, and begins towards the command chair. She can hear the shuffle of her second in command standing, the slither of his amphistaff moving down his armor.

Every sense she has tingles into ultra-awareness. She can feel the air movements on the short hairs of her arms, smell the fear wafting off a slave huddled in a corner, taste the sweet nectar of an imminent death, hear the pounding of every heart in the room, and see what Tyre plans to do.

She pulls a slug from her belt, twisting under the first slice of the amphistaff. She squeezes the slug, and a beam of burgundy light shoots out from it. She rolls forward and slams the blade through Tyre’s chest, slicing through the vonduun crab armor as if it was mere cloth.

Black blood spurts from his mouth as he coughs raggedly. “Jeedai witch.”

Ulya barks a sharp, harsh laugh. “There are no Jeedai here.”

A Life Not His Own: Chapter 11

An Immobilizer class interdictor travels within hyperspace, traveling through that realm of non-reality towards its destination.

Unlike other Immobilizer-class interdictors, this particular ship only has two mass generators.

Unlike other interdictors, this particular ship has no sublight engines.

Unlike other interdictors, this particular ship does not have a single living soul on board.

Unlike other interdictors, this particular ship is merely bait.

She drops out of hyperspace, pulled from it, by Yuuzhan Vong interdictor dovin basils. As soon as she reverts to real space automatic programs go into effect. These programs send out a communication over the holonet, raises shields, and activates the mass generators. The Yuuzhan Vong in the system advance on the ship; their cannons firing the superheated balls of plasma which slam against the shields of the decrepit interdictor.

For two minutes and seventeen seconds, the interdictor’s shields last. Another twenty seconds after the shields drop, the gravity well generators go offline, the interdictor itself floating away an empty broken hull once again.

But that is enough time, for as soon as the interdictor sent the message out over the holonet, hundreds of starfighters, and seven capital ships drop from hyperspace, all oriented towards the worldship where it slowly orbits around Serpindal’s star.

Even as the attack fleet drops out of hyperspace, their sublight engines burst and they dive towards their prey. The coral skippers and cruiser analogs behind them start twisting around trying to catch up to the New Republic Forces.

Jaina glances down at her console, as two of the New Republic capital ships veer off to hold back the cruiser analogs. She flips a switch, and there is a low rumble through the ship as the s-foils swing open and lock into attack position. She drops into the Force, feeling her ship, how it moves, how it reacts. She can feel the generators and engines as the controlled explosions power her ship, can feel the thin whispery electricity of the shields as they kiss the hull.

She loves this.

Gavin’s voice comes over the com, barely recognizable, garbled with static. “Rogues, we’re heading in. We fire a torpedo salvo at a single point, provided by me, then come around and repeat. Two runs, two torpedoes each run. Make sure to do it on my command.”

Eleven clicks answer him, and Jaina can feel a grin start to tug at her features.

Cappie whistles at her, and a countdown and coordinates appear on one of her consoles, directions from Rogue Leader on when and where to send her torpedoes.

“Would you look at the size of that thing?”

Gavins voice appears again. “Cut the chatter Rogue Four.”

She almost laughs as a click answers Gavin. Then they are there, and it is time. The console flashes zero, Cappie lets out the high tone of a missile lock, and Jaina pulls the trigger.

She watches for a moment as her torpedoes fly from the launches on the nose of her craft to join the eleven other pairs, then she pulls back and down on her stick rolling away from the giant worldship.

A new set of coordinates appear, with another countdown, and Jaina twists and turns as the first balls of plasma flies past her cockpit. She glances out and sees the Ralroost as it comes within firing range of the worldship, and rains its coherent light down upon the giant coral vessel.

She glances at her monitor and sees that her wingman is still there, and then lines up on the course provided by Rogue Lead.

The counter hits zero, and she lets her torpedoes fly, and immediately flicks a switch, going over to her laser canons. Punching the etheric rudders, she slews her craft around, and finds herself facing two skips. She presses the stutter fire trigger, and the low powered darts pepper the lead skip.

When they start to get through, she sends a full powered blast and barks a laugh as the blasts rupture the yorik coral, and the vong warrior flies from the tumbling debris.

An explosion behinds her, sends her craft reeling. “Cappie what was that?”

A message appears on the screen telling her that her wingman is gone. She twists her craft into a spiral. “Find me the skip that killed her.”

A blip turns bright green, and Jaina angles that way. A snarl coming from her throat as she once more peppers the enemy with stutter fire. Her craft is swaying from side to side, up and down to bypass the balls of plasma that are directed at her.

She growls in triumph as she fires full powered blasts and hulls the canopy of the skip. A second later she flashes past the dead skip, and starts scanning the skies for her next prey.

“Sticks! Bank port now!”

Without hesitation, she pushes her ship hard port, as balls of plasma shoot through where she had just been. She banks right, hoping to get away from the skip on her tail. Then a pain rips through her, centered in her abdomen, she doubles over as best she can in the X-wing’s cockpit. She screams at the savagery of it, and the Force screams with her.

The pain fades as her ship shudders, and a dozen warning lights pop on. She growls, and flicks her com. “This is Sticks, I’ve lost my shields, and I’m losing power.”

Then the com is off, and she growls to Cappie. “C’mon Cappie, get my shields and engines back up.”

The droid tootles in reply, and Jaina twists her craft again, as something slams into it. The sound of screaming overstressed metal fills the cockpit, as all the console lights flickers off for a second, and then comes back on at half power.

Outside the stars swirl in a nauseating pattern, and Jaina sees two of her s-foils flying away on a different trajectory. She leans back in her seat as her momentum takes her from the field of battle. Jaina closes her eyes, and tries to not throw up.

Then the pain hits her again, greater this time, and Jaina curls over, crouching around herself, pulling her knees up to her chest, as the tears start streaming down her face.

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

Anakin steps into the med-center. He looks at the far wall and sees a door. The door. A portal to another room, another realm.

A med-droid floats over to him. “How may I assist you milord?”

“Begone. I have no injuries.”

The droid moves away on its repulsers and Anakin pushes the distraction from his mind.

He walks over to the door, and stretches out his hand over the activation plate. He hesitates, torn between the desire to see her again, and the fear of doing so. Closing his eyes, his finger stabs forward and the door shoots open.

Anakin stares into the darkened room, and then strides in with a confidence he does not feel.

Lights come on in the room, and a large bacta tank in the middle of the room is highlighted by the soft diffused glow of them. Anakin steps up to it, and an internal light comes on revealing Tahiri’s body floating there.

He glances at the monitor built into the side of the tank, and sees the familiar readings there. No heartbeat. No respiration. No brain activity. To every medical sensor in the galaxy, she is dead.

And in the Force, she is dead.

His voice is a whisper, reverent. “I miss you Tahiri.”

He looks down at his hands. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited before now. But I’ve been training someone to help me destroy the Yuuzhan Vong. Training someone to help me avenge you.”

He glances behind him, ensuring the door is locked, and then strips off his helmet, allowing it to fall from his fingers. He drops to his knees in front of the tank, and presses his forehead against the cool glass.

“I’m so sorry Tahiri. I should have just answered his questions. Then maybe you would still be alive.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears as they threaten to fall once more.

“I should have been able to save you.”

A single tear escapes from his tightly clenched eyes.

“I should have been a better friend.”

His body hitches once again. His voice is once more low and reverent, a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

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Nen Yim has known fear many times throughout her life. Fear at not being accepted as a shaper, fear of something going wrong with her implants, causing her to be shamed. Even a fear of being found out as a heretic.

Yet those fears are as nothing as she enters the throne room of the Yuuzhan Vong. Her eyes travel down the dark room, until they come to rest on the hua polyp throne where the Supreme Overlord of the Yuuzhan Vong sits.

He is the single largest being that she has ever seen. A dark form, dressed in the skin of a previous Supreme Overlord, the mqaaq’it implants which are his eyes shine like rainbows, the skin is flayed away from his mouth and cheeks, the lack of skin shows pointed teeth and the moist slickness of cheek muscles which glisten in the dim light.

Nen Yim advances down the room, a sense of vertigo striking her, as even though the floor is slanted downwards, it feels as if she is walking up a hill. Drum beetles, and whistlers sound throughout the hall, giving an oddly organic swell of music to her step. The music is a despair producing dirge, seeming to indicate her upcoming fate.

Once she arrives at the halfway point, she collapses to her knees and places her face to the floor. She can feel when he turns his attention upon her, a sense of dread and doom slamming down on her neck, crushing her spirit. She moans in awe of a deity made flesh.

She wants to scream when she hears his voice.

“So you have gazed into the Eight Cortex.”

Pressure exerts itself against her, and all thoughts of lying flee from her. She trembles on the floor as she answers, “I have Dread One.”

“Even though the Eight Cortex is forbidden to you.”

“Yes, Dread One.”

“Why?”

Nen Yim hesitates, wondering how she can answer this question. She feels Shimmra’s attention pushing against her again, an overwhelming desire to tell the truth. “Because I had to know Dread One. I had to know if I could save the Baanu Miir.”

She can hear Kae Kwaad scamper past her, and she risks a glance up, and sees him sit himself at Shimra’s feet and gaze out at her.

Shimmra must have seen her look, because he glances down at the Master Shaper.

“Onimi, lose your disguise.”

At his command, Yeev’s hands falls off, revealing a shamed one. Horror and disgust slam into her at the abuse she took at his hands, and she has the desire to shove one of the dead shaper’s hands down the shamed one’s throat.

Shimmra laughs, another sound which gives Nen Yim the overwhelming desire to scream.

“Adept, this is my familiar, Onimi. As you may have guessed, I will occasionally use him for other purposes besides humor.”

Nen Yim keeps her head bowed, and does not offer a reply. After a moment, Shimmra once more begins speaking.

“So, you understand what the Eight Cortex being empty means.”

“I do Dread One. But I must ask, why could you not petition Yun Yuuzhan for more protocols?”

“Because He expects us to retrieve them from Him ourselves. Why would he give us the glory of suffering and pain, and then give us all the answers we need? No! He expects us to bleed and suffer for the knowledge which belongs in the Eighth Cortex.”

He stands, and takes a step towards her. “And you Nen Yim are the shaper who is responsible for producing those protocols. My divine task to you is to steal that knowledge from Yun Yuuzhan, to fill the Eighth Cortex with new protocols and creatures, weapons with which we can destroy the remaining infidels with.”

Nen Yim’s head shoots up, as she looks into the ma’atik implants. She struggles against questioning the Dread One, knowing that to do so would lead to her death. After a moment, he smiles down at her, a terrible thing of twisted muscles and exposed teeth. “You shall be escalated to the rank of Master Shaper, and become my personnel shaper.”

Nen Yim bows her head again. “Thank you Dread One.”

“Do you understand your assignment and all that it curtails?”

Nen Yim looks at the Supreme Overload, her thoughts racing. Yes, she did understand what was being asked of her, and what it meant. It meant that she was right in the thought that nothing new had been added to the Qang Qahsa since the Crossing began. It meant that she was being given blanket permission to perform her heresy, and attempt to advance the knowledge of the Yuuzhan Vong.

It meant that Shimmra, the ultimate leader, the guiding voice of the Yuuzhan Vong, Shimmra the voice of Yun Yuuzhan, was a heretic.

It meant that once the Eight Cortex was filled, her life was forfeit, as the knowledge that Shimmra was a heretic could never be released to the main Yuuzhan Vong populace.

She bows low. “I understand perfectly Dread One.”

Forfeit or not, it matters little. She will be able to help her people the most by this. She straightens, but still does not dare look into his eyes. “May I ask of the fate of the Baanu Miir?”

Shimmra waves one of his massive arms. “Their fate matters not. They are lost to death in the cold between the galaxies. If the shipwomb had not been desecrated, then we could have saved them, and the others who are still lost in the void, unfortunately that is not to be.”

Nen Yim nods her head, a fire burning in her as she ponders how best to destroy the infidels who have killed so many of her people this day.

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Lu’Ath smiles at the Yoric-Vec as it sits nestled in the grass. He turns towards the Shamed Ones, the Heretics, who stand around him, and lifts his vibrosword high into the air.

The dozen heretics’ voices rise up a cry of victory.

After the echoes die away Lu’ath smiles at them once more. “We have struck our first blow against the oppressiveness of the High Castes. Now we shall go forth, and spread the truth of the Jeedai to all of our people.”

He gestures silently, and the Shamed Ones tromp up the tongue and board the Yoric-Vec. Lu’ath gestures towards one of the former warriors, motioning for him to come closer.

“Tokra, find me one who was once a shaper. I wish for us to wear new robes.”

The warrior nods his head, and then walks up the ramp. Lu’ath turns and watches the bodies of the dead Yuuzhan Vong in the distance as they burn. He grins in delight, certain that his own redemption is nigh.

Greater Than the Sum of Their Parts: Chapter Three

Tahiri looks at her apprentice; she hefts the box of the young girl’s possessions, shifting it on her hips as Noelani drops a final tunic into the box at her feet. Noelani turns towards Tahiri, a grin on her face, happy that she is moving from the barracks to their new shared quarters.

Tahiri returns the grin. “You sure this is the last of it?”

Noelani picks up the box at her feet and looks up at her, her blue eyes flashing with amusement. “Yes, I think this is everything. Of course once Papa finds out that I was moved to larger quarters he might send me more things.”

“You do realize that Jedi are not supposed to do the whole possession thing, right?”

Noelani laughs again, a musical tinkling. “Yes, Master I do. But Papa doesn’t quite understand.”

They carry the boxes through the halls chatting amicably, getting to know one another. They arrive at their quarters, and Tahiri sets the box down with the rest of Noelani’s things, and then shrugs out of her over cloak, hanging it on a peg on the wall.

She turns around, to find Noelani holding out a glass of water for her, and Tahiri takes it with a grateful nod.

Noelani beams up at her. “Thanks for helping me with all of this stuff. I don’t know how long it would have taken me to do it all by my self. I guess I really need to get rid of some of it, but I don’t know what Papa would say if I did that. What do you think I should do?”

Tahiri smiles, and for the first time in her life realizes just what her friends must have felt like when they were all younger. She shrugs her shoulders slightly. “It’s just stuff. Don’t keep it because you’re afraid of what your father would think, keep it around because it makes you happy. We’re Jedi; our focus is not on the things of this world.”

“Oh. I see.” The girl looks away from Tahiri, allowing her gaze to flicker around the room. Finally she looks back at her. “Can I ask you a question? A personal one. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I’d like to know the answer. I mean I’m just curious.”

Tahiri holds her hand up, and the girl quiets down with a blush. “Ask your question Noelani. Don’t be afraid to do that. I’m here to teach you after all.”

“What are those scars on your forehead from?”

Startled, Tahiri’s hand reaches up, and touches the scars, her fingers flickering over the slightly raised tissue.

Tahiri walks over to the couch, trying to decide just how much she should tell the young girl as she sits down. Noelani drops in beside her, her feet tucking up underneath her as she watches her mentor.

“I got them, oh, back before you were born. During the Vong War. I was a Jedi apprentice, not much older than you, on Yavin 4. My best friend, Anakin, came back suddenly from the war, and told us that the Yuuzhan Vong were coming. Kam and Tionne rushed us away into the caves until help could arrive, but me, Valin and Sannah stayed behind with Anakin and my Master, Ikrit. It was a poor decision, as Anakin’s defense plan involved him escaping in his X-Wing, which wasn’t big enough for all of us. The Peace Brigade showed up, and ultimately we stole a freighter. Ikrit jumped out to stop those pursuing us, but was killed, and in my grief I followed him.”

Tahiri pauses, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“I was captured, and turned over to the Yuuzhan Vong. And then they shaped me.”

Tahiri can hear the slight inhaling hiss of breath from the young girl, and she looks over at her, seeing the tears in Anakin’s blue eyes. She gives her head a slight shake, dispelling the image of Anakin eye’s from her mind.

“Anakin rescued me, but in the end I choose to keep the scars as a reminder of who I was, and what had happened to me.”

She looks at the girl, noting the grin on her face. “He rescued you? Like a prince in a fairy tale?”

Tahiri laughs slightly, amazed at the young girl’s ability to ignore the bad things in the story, and to focus on the fairy tale aspects. “Just like in a fairy tale. He rescued me from the Shapers, and he rescued me from myself.”

“So what happened then? Why didn’t the two of you live happily ever after?”

A sharp pain stabs through Tahiri’s heart. She looks away from her apprentice, and out the window. “He died. Killed, while being a dumb hero.. A stupid, pointless death, in a stupid, pointless war.”

She can hear the pain in Noelani’s voice. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I won’t bring it up again. I’m sorry.”

Tahiri glances at the younger girl again. “It’s all right Noelani. You didn’t know. He died before you were born, yet I still mourn for him.”

Tahiri stands up, and walks to the shelf where she had already placed her few mementos. She picks up a small device, and returning to the couch, sets it down on the table in front of them.

She presses a button, and a hologram flickers into existence. A boy on the cusp of manhood, his blue eyes shine with the moment of laughter frozen in time by the picture.

Tahiri wipes away a tear from her eye. “That’s Anakin.”

After a couple of minutes, Tahiri turns the hologram off, and stands up; she looks down at the girl. “We need to get this stuff put away.”

With a bob of her blonde hair, Noelani jumps up and rushes to her room, and Tahiri can hear the shuffling noises of things being put away and organized. Sniffling slightly, she turns and heads into her room, taking care to put her few possessions into the places where they should go.

As Tahiri finishes, she steps out of her bedroom, and looks around the quarters they were given. They are simply appointed, three bedrooms, the common room with kitchen and eating area and a shared refresher.

Tahiri walks into the unused third bedroom, and looks around, a grin on her face. She begins the process of taking the bed apart, hauling its pieces out into the hallway. Next she shuffles the dresser out there as well. Then she dismantles the computer in that room, and takes it and the desk it was sitting on and puts them out in the hall as well.

Returning, Tahiri looks around the now empty room, a grin on her face. She goes into her room, and gathers a couple of candles, and sets them on the window ledges.

A crashing sound draws Tahiri out of the empty room, and she sees Noelani with the discarded console in her arms, a sheepish grin plastered to her face.

Tahiri lifts an eyebrow. “What are you planning on doing with that?”

Noelani bites at her lip. “I don’t know yet. But I couldn’t just leave it out there.”

Tahiri shakes her head. “Are you done straightening your room?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Then go put that down, and join me in here.” With that Tahiri walks back into the empty room, and settles into a meditation pose just off the center of the room. She closes her eyes and begins to meditate, allowing the Force to flow over and through her.

A few minutes later, Noelani comes in, and settles into a similar position facing Tahiri.

She watches her Master, and then starts shuffling around, making small noises.

Tahiri sighs, and opens one of her eyes. “Quiet your mind. Meditate.”

Noelani lets out a small sigh of her own. “Yes, Master.”

Tahiri chuckles to herself. She’s a lot like Anakin. Wonder if all teenaged Jedi are?

She pushes the thought away, not wanting to follow it to its logical conclusion. But her gaze lingers on Noelani’s young, earnest face. It surprises her when she realizes that she is still smiling at her.