I Want To Be Your Knight: Chapter One

I had been sitting in that cafe on lower-mid level Coruscant for nearly four hours before I saw her.

During those four hours, I had seen seventeen muggings, three fistfights, an incalculable number of prostitutes, ninety-seven instances of some teenager or twenty-something knocking an elderly citizen over as they had walked past and seven different gangs wandering through the small bit of the massive city-planet that I could see. Don't forget I also had to suffer the glares and stares due to my too-new clothes and my freshly laundered scent. Probably the only thing keeping these people away from me was the less-than-new blaster shoved into the holster on my thigh.

Why was I doing this? Why was I sitting in this dingy, dirty cafe, drinking horrid tasting tea, eating a sandwich on stale bread and watching the scum of society as they preyed upon one another?

Ethics.

Not my own, personnel ethics, but Ethics the university course.

It's part of the pre-curriculum for the Defense Fleet's Officer's Training School, those fun courses you have to have before they will consider allowing you into the training school. You would think that nearly completing my Jedi training, and then working with GAG for years would have given me enough education and experience. Yet if I had learned anything over the years it is that the government loves its processes, and the process that I was currently stuck in, dictated that I needed so many hours of certain advanced university courses prior to being able to officially join the Defense Fleet as an officer in Intelligence.

No amount of throwing my last name around the Defense Fleet HQ changed that. Sometimes when people ignore the fact that I'm the son of Galactic Heroes, it makes me happy. That wasn't really one of those times.

Anyways, during my last Ethics class, there was a discussion on the destruction of civilizations and societies, and the Professor had asked us how we could tell when a society was beginning to unravel. What indicator worked best as a symbol of society beginning to destroy itself. There were a lot of suggestions, most of which he pushed away as overall symptoms rather than a thermometer of the problem. In the end, he told us it was "manners."

How politely a society treats other members of that society is what best shows the health or sickness of said society. Then he proceeded to give us a hundred different examples, from nearly as many species.

It bothered me, and when I woke up that morning, I had felt the sudden need to go down-level and see just how the average citizens treated one another. I wanted to see just how sick-or healthy-our society was.

So I spent four hours watching the dregs of society, and was just about to give up on my unreceived commission, hang up my Jedi robes permanently, and then go hide out on Tatooine as a hermit for the rest of my life when I saw her.

It was that ninety-seventh instance of a group of teenagers, all four of them about my own age, walking down the center of the walkway, and knocking down an elderly human male.

This particular group turned on the old man, and started yelling at him for being in the way.

I had just placed a credit chit large enough to cover my tab and a substantial tip for the waitress who let me hang out in this cafe all morning, when I first heard her voice.

It was clear and strong, carrying a hint of a Corellian accent, "Stop."

All heads in the area, including my own, turned towards the sound of the voice, and saw a slight teen-aged girl walking forward with purpose and determination. She couldn't have been much older than me, and in the back of my mind, I knew that I had seen her somewhere before, but I just couldn't place it. She was dressed in the simple, comfortable style of most Corellians: dark cotton slacks, tailored shirt, Imperial-style boots, that stopped just beneath the knees, and a light jacket completing the outfit. Of particular interest were the bloodstripes which ran up the sides of her slacks, and for a moment I wondered what this young girl had done to deserve them. I also noticed that the top three or so buttons on her tailored shirt were undone, not really displaying her breasts, but rather teasing us with them.

Regardless, as I watched, she walked up to the group of teens and got into the leader's face and told him that he should apologize to the old man.

If the situation hadn't been so serious, I would probably have found it funny. Here was this girl, who was at most 1.5 meters, glaring up at this mountain of muscle, who had to top a good 2 meters, and outweighed her by at least 30 kilograms.

Of course, seeing this little slip of a girl standing up for that old man, I had never before felt so much shame in my life.

How could I, an almost trained Jedi, a former member of GAG and someone supposedly in training to become an Intelligence Officer for the Defense Fleet, have ignored all the crime and abuses that I had calmly watched while eating my stale sandwich and drinking my piss-poor tea. I was ashamed at my justification that they could have, should have, protected themselves. That I did not have a responsibility to protect them if they cared so little about their own selves.

I really was as much of a failure as a Jedi, as I had always thought I was.

I slipped out of the cafe, and walked closer to the angry, shouting teens. With a trick of the Force, I enhanced my eyesight, so I could get a closer look at the girl. That closer look only increased my confusion, as I knew I had seen her somewhere before, but still could not place it. It also showed me the black eye, the bruise on her cheek, and the split lip that she sported.

It looked as if she had already gotten into at least one fight this morning, and part of me wondered if it was because she had been protecting people down here in these lower levels.

I'm still not sure what caused me to move when I did. Why I rushed forward. Maybe it was the determination in the set of her jaw. Maybe it was the clear sea-blue color of her eyes. Or maybe it was just that unsettling feeling that I knew her.

But the leader had cocked his arm back and thrown out a punch. At the same instant, the girl had jumped backwards, opening a gap between herself and the leader of the gang.

It was into that gap that I had inserted myself, that I had used the Force to propel myself forward at speeds faster than the eye could see. I dropped into that gap, and had already lifted my arm, pointing my elbow towards the oncoming fist.

The leader's fist connected with my elbow, and pain flared up and down my arm, but I wasn't worried about it. Little known fact about the elbow-it doesn't break. You can abuse it as much as you want, and it keeps coming back for more. So I took the pain and shunted it aside as the leader howled, clutching at his hand. I estimated that he had broken at least two fingers hitting my elbow. I was kind of ashamed that I was amused by the guy's pain.

I dropped into a more traditional fighting pose, one I had picked up during my GAG days, and smirked at the leader, saying, "Now, didn't the lady tell you to apologize?"

"Get him," the leader growled. In response, the other three charged forward, their arms outstretched in a mad rush to tackle with me. My eyes flickered across the three, picking out distinguishing features. The one on the right was the only one wearing a blue shirt, and only human, the other two were Bothans dressed in red. One had a really pretty pelt, it was a deep brown color, something between brandy and chestnuts, the other's pelt was hideous. An eye-hurting, brilliant emerald green. For a second, I wondered just what chemicals he had ingested to get his body chemistry to do that, but quickly pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the oncoming attack.

I knew that if they got a hold of my arms and legs that I would probably be in for a world of hurt. That acknowledged, I decided to not let them get a hold of my arms and legs. I rushed forward, and almost laughed at the expression of startlement that flickered across the green Bothan's Force presence. Planting my fist into the stomach of the brown Bothan, I twisted around and kicked the human in the knee. I brought my leg back in before I snapped the knee, and then dropped into my default fighting stance.

Glancing towards the green Bothan, I noticed that the girl was giving him a sound thrashing.

I turned back towards my two, and grinned at them, using the Force to flood their minds with fear. "Well, c'mon. I don't have all day. Are you going to 'get me' or not?"

I guess those two chose not, because with that bit of Force enhanced fear, they took off, running. I turned towards the leader and grinned at him at about the same time that the green Bothan dropped to the ground unconscious.

The leader slowly backed away, as if he was afraid that we'd jump him and beat him too. I shrugged my shoulders and looked around for the old man, not seeing him anywhere. I guess he had just run off once the fighting had started. Not that I was really that surprised.

Then I heard her voice again, still with that same annoying, almost recognized attribute, yet this time she sounded a bit angry. I guess she didn't like to be helped. "What are you doing? Trying to be some sort of hero? I didn't need your help!"

Then I turned to face her.

She was scowling, and I noticed a thin slice at her temple, slowly oozing blood. Her diatribe against me stopped in mid-rant and she leaned in forward, towards me for a moment, her eyes tracking down, then snapping back to my face. Recognition seemed to dawn in her eyes, a fraction of a second before disgust took over her face.

I took an instinctive step backwards, as she hissed out my name between clenched teeth, "Ben. Ben Skywalker."

Then to my surprise, her fist was slamming into my nose. Stars blossomed in my vision as pain erupted in my face. I dropped backwards onto my butt, as she stood over my, her Force presence seething.

My hand flew to my nose, gingerly pressing against it, checking to see if it had been broken again. The Force was with me and all I had was just a bit of a nose bleed.

I looked up, looking closer at the girl, trying to figure out where she knew me from. Then recognition dawned. My mouth opened, and then shut.

She's sure turned out cute, was the thought that raced through my head, even as my mouth uttered, "Jys?"

She continued to glare down at me with disdain and disgust. In truth, I deserved it. I hadn't always been the nicest person to her family.

"So glad to see that you remember me, Skywalker."

I saw her leg tense, as if she was warring with the desire to kick me while I sat there on the grimy street.

I grimaced, and looked up from her leg into her eyes, and said, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, it's not worth that much," she shot back. Then she turned away from me, and walked away.

I sighed, and watched her walk away, thinking I might just have to go back and visit the Jedi Temple soon. Maybe put my education on hold, put off that Intelligence commission for a bit, finish my Jedi Training.

And get her to forgive me.

I stood up, and glanced down the walkway where I could still make her out, and sighed, wondering just how I was going to accomplish that, my next impossible feat.

The Last Weapon

Anakin stood on the edge of the massive, floating city. A strong breeze tugged at his hair and jacket, bringing the smell of the salt water to his nose. Lowering his head slightly, he gripped the railing in front of him, squeezing it tightly, fighting back tears.

From the depths of the city, he could hear the celebrations. The raucous cries of the citizens of the New Republic celebrating the total defeat of the Yuuzhan Vong.

At first, most of the Defense Fleet did not know what was happening.

Did not know why the Vong offensive had suddenly stalled.

Why every single Yuuzhan Vong biot had suddenly taken ill and died over the course of the past two weeks. It did not matter if it was the lowest of the communication devices or the grandest of their worldships. Every single living creature associated with the Yuuzhan Vong had died.

Then the announcement had been made.

Cal Omas, Dif Scaur, and his own uncle appeared on the holonet and told the galaxy about Alpha Red. The Last Weapon. The end of the Yuuzhan Vong.

The New Republic's victory was total.

In Anakin's opinion their failure was just as total.

Finally, a tear fell, and splashed against the metal railing. A slight discoloration against the silver shine of the metal. His fists convulsed, and for a second he lost control of his Force powers, they enhanced his strength, and with a slight squeal the metal handrail crumpled in his hands.

Then he felt someone's presence beside him. A tightly-coiled spring in the Force. Calm. Professional. As much family as anyone related to him by blood.

Blowing out a breath, an effort to calm and center himself, he straightened and looked at his Aunt Mara. She was dressed in her Jedi robes. He knew that she disliked those clothes, preferring the jumpsuits. Yet the more formal clothing was appropriate, considering the event they had just attended.

"So, tell me Aunt Mara," he said, a quaver in his voice. "Just how long ago did we know about this... this abomination?"

"Farmboy's High Council found out about Alpha Red about three months ago," she replied. "Dif Scaur informed us all, and they released the virus over the Jedi's objections."

"Why? Why would they do it?"

She shook her head. "I... I don't think I have an answer for that, Solo. I know that they didn't ever stop and think about all the... repercussions of using it. I know neither Luke nor I realized them all."

He barked a short bitter laugh. One that sounded much older than his seventeen years. One that was too bitter for a seventeen year old boy. "Repercussions? Is that what they're calling it?"

"Some of the slaves that they've found are still alive."

"That's a small consolation."

"Shavit, Solo," she hissed as she glared at him, anger flashing in her green eyes. "The self-centered spoiled brat routine got old years ago, and your older brother does it better. So cut it out, and get over it. Now. It's happened. Nothing we can do to change it. And don't think for a moment, that your Uncle or I wouldn't give anything to do so."

He twisted his hands, ripping out the metal railing. Shocked, they both stared at the twisted, useless piece of metal in his hands. After a moment, he let it drop; allowed it to fall away into the seas of Mon Calamari. As the railing splashed into the water, he closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath.

He held it for a five count and then slowly exhaled. Feeling centered once more, he opened his eyes and turned to face Mara.

"You don't understand do you? She's dead," he snarled at her. "Not because of a battle or a fight. Not because of a stupid mistake that someone made. It wasn't even an accident. The government. Our government. The one that we Jedi fight and bleed and die for every day, made the decision to kill her."

He spun away from her, and stomped a few paces away, breathing heavily. After a few moments, he turned back towards her, tears burning in his eyes. "As surely as if he had pulled the trigger, Cal Omas murdered her."

"Solo... Anakin. I know. Just now, I was there with you at her funeral. Luke was there with you when she finally died."

Anakin shook his head. "I hope I never see something like that again. I've seen people die before, killed by amphistaff, blaster and my own blade... but to watch her be ate away like that... ate away by our own creation."

He stumbled towards the wall, and when he reached it, he slumped to the ground, leaning against it. Screwing a fist against his eyes, he gave another of those bitter, harsh laughs. Then in a soft voice, he said, "You know I loved her, right?"

Mara nodded her head.

"You know we had started dating."

Mara silently nodded her head again.

"You know I married her," Anakin said, still using that soft voice. He glanced up towards his aunt, and noticed the shock etched onto her face as her mouth hung open.

Mara gave a twist of her head. "What? When? How?"

He snorted. "Glad, I can still hide something from all of you. Actually, according to Tusken tradition, we were married when she was 9 and I was 11. By helping her on her rite of passage, I announced to the tribe that we were one person. As for our society? After Coruscant's fall, while you and Uncle Luke were off playing on Coruscant, I had Uncle Wedge do it."

Mara laughed and shook her head. "That sounds like something you'd do."

He unclipped his lightsaber, and held it out, thumbing the activation plate. He let out a small sigh as it did not ignite. For a few more minutes, he stared at the useless shaft of metal. "Why Aunt Mara? Why did my wife have to die?"

"I don't have an answer. No one does. But think of this, if she hadn't died. If Alpha Red hadn't killed her and those billion or so slaves, we would still be fighting the Vong. That means billions more would have died or been enslaved. Would you happily let all those billions die, just so that she wouldn't?"

His looked up from his lightsaber, and stared into Mara's green eyes, pondering her question. Would he willingly let the billions of people die who would have, if the Vong War had continued? Would he do it, just to have Tahiri back? Could he?

Anakin stood up, and returned to the railing. He glanced down at his saber once more, and then cocked his arm back and threw it out. It spun through the air, the sunlight flashing off the steel handle. Spun end over end, through the arc of his throw, until it made a small splash in the distance.

And was gone.

Just like her.

He stared at the ripples as they slowly spread out from the saber's point of impact.

"I just threw away my 'saber, Aunt Mara. I've made my fighting prowess less effective. I've weakened myself and the Jedi. What I just did, saved all the lives that that saber could have taken. And let's be honest, if I fell, even for a short time, that number could be huge." Then he turned from the sea to face her. "So tell me, Aunt Mara. Is what I did right? Did I do the right thing?"

Mara shook her head. "No... you have no idea how many lives that saber may or may not have taken. All you did was weaken your own defenses. Plus, you don't know what other problems a saber just sitting out there could cause."

Anakin nodded his head. "Then ask me again. Should I be happy that my government, my people, threw away my wife? Ask me again to pick between a billion potential deaths and hers. Because, I know what my answer would be."

He stared at her hard for a few more moments. Waiting, daring her to speak again. Finally he spun away, and stood on the edge, staring out at the water.

His hand reached up, and caressed the small pendants he now wore on a thin chain around his neck. Pendants which contained the fingerprints of Tahiri's real parents, her foster father, and herself. The last of those, Anakin had taken just hours before her death. His thumb rubbed up against the material, feeling the almost imperceptible ridges.

"As always," he whispered to the sea. "I would have chosen you, Tahiri...."

I Thought I Was Tough

Anakin sat at the bar and twirled the small golden band on the bar top. With every rotation, the light would get caught in the two small corusca gems on either side of the Krayt dragon pearl and flash a rainbow light in his eyes. He glanced over at the tumbler with its splash of Corellian Ale as it just sat there, taunting him to pick it up and drown his sorrow and pain. In the air around him, he could smell the carcinogens and smoke, as well as the slight antiseptic tinge of Bacta from the new skin on his arm, face and back.

The ring rattled to a stop, and without thinking he picked it, set it on its edge and once again gave it a twirl. He watched as it revolved around. Flash. Pearl. Flash. Pearl. It was almsot hypnotic and comforting, yet ultimately, it just fueled his despair.

A large hand landed on his shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie and making him jump. He glanced over his that shoulder, his eyes tracking the arm encased in a flightsuit to find himself staring up at Corran Horn.

Corran sidled up to the bar, beside him, and raised his finger towards the barkeep. A few minutes later, a tumbler with Corellian Ale is placed in front of him.

"So kid, what's bothering you?"

Anakin sighed, as the ring came to a stop. "If I said 'nothing,' would you go away?"

Corran chuckled. "Not likely. Your dad sent me down here to talk to you, said something about how I had experience in this sort of thing."

Anakin glanced over at the elder Jedi, and smirked. "Imagine that, CorSec taking orders from a smuggler."

Corran raised his ale to his lips and took a swallow. "Who would've thought it, huh?" He set the tumbler back onto the bar. "So, what's bothering you?"

Anakin sighed, and set the ring to spinning again. Then he picked up his own glass, raising it to his lips. Just as suddenly, it vanished, and reappeared on the bar.

He looked at his hand, and then the glass and then over at Corran who was smiling at him.

Shaking a finger in Anakin's face, Corran said, "No drinking for you until you tell me what happened. You try and pick it up again, I'll make you think it's at your mouth so you'll dump it on yourself."

"Fine," Anakin ground out between clenched teeth. "What's bothering me is Tahiri."

"Tahiri?" Corran asked, startled.

"Yeah, you know. Cute, short, blonde, refuses to wear shoes," he replied watching as the ring once again clattered to a stop. "One kriffing large pain in the neck."

Corran chuckled. "Yeah, I know who Tahiri is, what I don't know is why she's bothering you so much. Or why your dad thinks I have so much more experience in this than he does."

Anakin sighed again, once more setting the ring to twirling on its edge. Then he looked over at Corran. "Uncle Luke sent me on a mission last week. It was supposed to be a simple trade dispute."

Corran nodded his head. "Yes, I know. The Council still isn't sure just how you managed to uncover that slavery ring on Itheria. They're firmly in the Colony regions, where slavery has been outlawed for at least two millennia."

"It's not my fault," Anakin said, as the ring rattled to a stop. "I... heck, I'm not sure myself. I start the day like normal, and by the end of it, I'm facing a dozen slavers all pointing blasters at me. Yet, somehow, Tahiri thinks this is all my fault."

"Let me guess," Corran replied, chuckling once again. "She said something about you liking to spend time in Bacta?"

"I wish," Anakin responded, picking up the ring again, and sending it whirling on the bar. "I think I could have handled that. When I got decanted, she was there, and then she hugged me. Then she slapped me. Then she told me she never wanted to see me again, because I was reckless and stupid and always trying to get myself killed."

Corran laughed, and Anakin looked up at him, scowling. "It's not that funny."

Corran's laughter resolved itself down to slight chuckles. "I know, I'm sorry, but it is kind of funny. In a few years, with a bit more life experiences under your belt, you'll see it that way as well."

The ring rattled to a stop, and Anakin picked it up and set it spinning once again.

Corran watched the ring for a moment. "Is that for what I think it's for?"

Anakin nodded. "Well, it was, but if she doesn't want to see me again..."

Corran hit Anakin on the back of his head. "I know you Skywalker boys are dense, but I didn't think it was this bad. You're Corellian too, you know. Go to her, and fight for her. I seem to remember your mother told your father that she didn't want to see him again, right before he kidnapped her and got her to agree to marry him."

Anakin sighed as the ring rattled to a stop once again.

Anakin watched it, as it lay there, unmoving, then he glanced towards his glass of ale. Finally, he shook his head, and dropped it to the bar top. "I'm not reckless or stupid. I don't try to get myself killed, besides the Force is with me, I'm tougher that that. Why can't she see that?"

Corran looked at him for a moment, and then drank the final swallow of his ale. "I used to think I was tough, too. I thought I was one of, if not the, best pilot in Rogue Squadron. The cream of the crop. I thought I was great. And Wedge backed up those delusions, sending me on the hardest and toughest missions. But you know what?"

"What?" Anakin muttered, keeping his head on the top of the bar.

"I was wrong. Utterly, totally, hopelessly wrong," Corran said, as he raised his glass towards the barkeep. "And I didn't know it, I couldn't know it, until I married Mirax."

"What?" Anakin asked, lifting his head slightly to look at Corran. The barkeep placed a new ale in front of Corran and took his old glass away.

Corran chuckled again, and took a swallow of his ale. "She's amazing. It's that simple. She runs her import/export business, plus all the shady things that goes along with it. She moonlights as an intelligence operative, though everyone involved will deny that. She raised Valin and Jysella, while doing both the business and the moonlighting. Then she keeps the house clean, and prepares meals on a regular basis. Then she also keeps track of our finances, and all the trappings that go along with that. Plus she still finds time to spend with me and the kids."

Anakin blinked his eyes slowly. "Wow, she's busy."

Corran laughed. "But it gets better."

"How?"

"A few years ago, she was diagnosed with cancer. The doctors said she'd most likely survive, but she would have to fight for life. When they told us that, I kind of broke down. I didn't know what to say or do. So, I cried. She... she took my hand and comforted me, telling me that 'everything would be fine.'"

Corran took a sip of his ale, then set the tumbler down on the bar. "So, you see... despite how tough I thought I was, despite everything, in the end, it's nothing compared to Mirax."

"But..." Anakin said, trailing off as he stared down at the ring again.

"But?" Corran prompted.

Anakin looked up at him. "But, that doesn't make sense. We're.. we're supposed to go out and do these stupid, reckless things. We're Jedi. It's our job."

"She's a Jedi, too. Would you be happy if she came back from every mission and had to spend at least a day in the medward?"

Anakin frowned. "No... but that's different."

"How?" Corran asked as he laughed.

"It just is. I... I couldn't stand to see her hurt that often or like that. Or at all."

Corran picked up the ring, and set it to spinning. "Then how do you think she feels seeing you in the medward after every mission? And let's be honest here, when was the last mission that you didn't get injured on?"

Anakin sighed, frowning down at the spinning ring. "I... you're right. I... what should I do?"

Corran shrugged his shoulders. "That's for you to decide." He tossed back the rest of his drink and then stood up, dropping a few coins onto the bar. "Just remember what I told you, no matter how tough you are, she's tougher. But in her own way she's weaker than you as well. The hard part is figuring out just where her weaknesses and strengths line up with yours."

Anakin nodded his head, and watched as Corran walked out of the bar. He glanced at his ale, still sitting there untouched and then at the ring, laying on its side, glittering in the spotlight where it had fallen to a stop.

He snatched the ring off the bar, and shoved it into a pocket. Then he stood and pulled out his comlink and a few coins of his own. Throwing the later onto the bar, he flipped open the comlink and punched in Tahiri's number.

Her voice came out of the small speaker, sounding tiny and hurt, and made his heart ache. "What do you want, Dummy?"

He felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. "I'm coming over to see you. I have something I need to talk to you about."