The Legion Renewed
by Denise Hazelwood
by Denise Hazelwood
(Takes place shortly after Return of the Jedi.)
As Han and Leia try to work out the kinks in their new marriage, a case of mistaken identity leads Luke to rescue and attempt to train a woman who appears to be an Imperial Colonel, Meanwhile, Luke has a dream that Palpatine is still alive, and Luke's first student has a vision of her own--that she will kill Luke! Who will survive? And who...won't?
As Han and Leia try to work out the kinks in their new marriage, a case of mistaken identity leads Luke to rescue and attempt to train a woman who appears to be an Imperial Colonel, Meanwhile, Luke has a dream that Palpatine is still alive, and Luke's first student has a vision of her own--that she will kill Luke! Who will survive? And who...won't?
-----
Prologue
The Empire was dead.
The Emperor was dead.
Luke Skywalker had seen him fall into the bottomless shaft at the core of the now destroyed Death Star, knew there was no way he could have survived the fall, knew there was no way he could have survived the explosions that ripped the Death Star apart.
But something troubled the young Jedi in his sleep. Luke woke up in a cold sweat feeling queasy, slightly sick. He'd had this dream before, ever since the Battle of Endor, but he'd always felt he was dreaming of something past, and dismissed it as a trick of his subconscious. But this time, it was different. It wasn't the past he was dreaming of. This time he knew he was dreaming of the future.
Luke reached out through the Force, touching, searching for the disturbance that had troubled him even in sleep. It wasn't even a real dream. It was vague, only a feeling. Cold. Like a dark cloud coalescing, forming somewhere. He didn't know where. But it chilled him, frightened him, because he recognized the feeling even through its vagueness.
Palpatine.
Still alive.
Searching.
A bodiless entity looking for a place to re-form. Looking for a host body in which to solidify its own evil. Luke knew that it would need a Dark host, something or someone as dark as Vader had once been. Darker, even. A host willing to carry this evil along with its own.
And through the Force, Luke knew that Palpatine would find that soul.
Palpatine would find it within Luke himself.
The Empire was dead.
The Emperor was dead.
Luke Skywalker had seen him fall into the bottomless shaft at the core of the now destroyed Death Star, knew there was no way he could have survived the fall, knew there was no way he could have survived the explosions that ripped the Death Star apart.
But something troubled the young Jedi in his sleep. Luke woke up in a cold sweat feeling queasy, slightly sick. He'd had this dream before, ever since the Battle of Endor, but he'd always felt he was dreaming of something past, and dismissed it as a trick of his subconscious. But this time, it was different. It wasn't the past he was dreaming of. This time he knew he was dreaming of the future.
Luke reached out through the Force, touching, searching for the disturbance that had troubled him even in sleep. It wasn't even a real dream. It was vague, only a feeling. Cold. Like a dark cloud coalescing, forming somewhere. He didn't know where. But it chilled him, frightened him, because he recognized the feeling even through its vagueness.
Palpatine.
Still alive.
Searching.
A bodiless entity looking for a place to re-form. Looking for a host body in which to solidify its own evil. Luke knew that it would need a Dark host, something or someone as dark as Vader had once been. Darker, even. A host willing to carry this evil along with its own.
And through the Force, Luke knew that Palpatine would find that soul.
Palpatine would find it within Luke himself.
-----
Chapter One
Leia Organa sat behind the desk in her private office and looked up at her brother with eyes that were confused and a little hurt.
"But why, Luke? I don't understand. Must you leave now? The ceremony is only a few days away. Can't it wait until then, at least?"
Luke tried to explain, knowing that she wouldn't understand. He wasn't even precisely sure of the reasons himself. There was a single word he'd gotten from his dream, the name of a world, a place to look for the answers he knew he needed: Dagobah. "I have to, Leia. There are...questions to which I need answers, and I won't find them here."
"But, Luke, just a few more days?"
"I'm sorry, Leia. I just can't." He knew how much his attendance meant to her, but it could not be helped. Something was calling him away from this place, to Dagobah. He could sense a coldness in the wash of the Force. It was like a dark river. It swirled near him, allowed him brief glimpses into its murky depths before spinning away again. Its images were elusive and refractive, and he needed a place where the waters ran a little more quietly.
The Princess didn't give up. "Luke, you're the only family I have now. I really wanted you to be there."
Skywalker shook his head, a little sadly. He had discovered a single piece of a puzzle in the spinning currents of the dream-vision from the night before, and it had to be solved. "I really wish I could, Leia, but—“
At that moment, the door to Leia's private office opened, and Han Solo, scoundrel-at-large, made a grand entrance.
"I'm here!" the Corellian announced unnecessarily, adding a flourish. "Hi ya, kid," he said to Luke. He went to give Leia a warm kiss, but she presented him with her cheek instead. Annoyed, he didn't kiss her at all.
Luke smiled to himself. He was still amazed that a relationship between these two had developed at all, much less come this far. Princess and Pirate, soon to be married. Even the Force could not have predicted that.
"Luke says he has to leave before the wedding," Leia informed her future husband.
"Yeah?" Han said. "Well, clear skies, kid." It was a traditional spacer's farewell.
"Aren't you going to help me convince him to stay?"
"Why?" Han asked, genuinely surprised.
They started arguing. Luke didn't hear what they were saying. He was distracted by thoughts of the vision. He wondered for a moment if perhaps Leia was the answer to the puzzle. Dagobah was a training ground. Perhaps that was why he had seen it in his dream. If he could train Leia in the ways of the Force, perhaps the two of them together could find a way to defeat Palpatine. But as soon as he asked himself the question, he realized that he already knew the answer. Leia would never become a Jedi Knight. It wasn't because she lacked the potential—Luke knew that he had inherited the same Force-sensitivity that he had--but just the same, she wouldn't.
She would never learn to use the power, because she didn't want it. Deep inside, she was frightened of it.
The Princess Organa had courage, there was no doubt about that. She had faced situations that would have made many brave men run in terror. But always her actions had been motivated by a clear understanding of circumstances.
The Force, however, was not an easily understood phenomenon. And Leia tended to avoid things she didn't understand.
Suddenly, Luke's head snapped up. He felt something in the Force, something very near. Not directly linked with Palpatine, but tied into the dark puzzle somehow. Something to do with Dagobah. Unconsciously, he moved to the large sliding doors that led to the balcony beyond.
"So, Luke" Han was saying, "do you know how many Crimian dancers it takes to fill a turbo-flush?"
"What?" Skywalker asked, startled.
"Han!" the Princess protested.
The Corellian grinned. "You looked like you were sleepwalking. Just thought I'd wake you up."
Luke would have smiled. But right now...he felt drawn, somehow, to the window, to the street below. He opened the glass doors and stepped outside.
For the first time, Leia seemed to realize that her brother was troubled. "Luke?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer her. He was busy scanning the scene on the ground. A parade of Imperial prisoners-of-war was just coming turning a corner to pass by their building. The prisoners were being marched toward holding areas where they would wait until transport could be arranged to take them to other places, where they would again be held until their individual trials could be arranged. The war was over, but the effects of the war were not.
"Luke?" the Princess said again. She tried to reach him through the Force. Such a timid reaching out, but Luke answered it anyway to reassure her.
"Hey, kid, you all right?" the Corellian called, concerned.
"I'm fine," Luke replied aloud. He continued to gaze at the street below. There was something about the prisoners there, a presence...
Leia joined him on the balcony. She touched him lightly on the shoulder, and he automatically put an arm around her, but he did not take his eyes off the procession.
"Luke, what's the matter?"
The Jedi didn't answer right away. He was studying the troops below. Now that the war was over, the Aliance sympathizers were no longer the Rebels. Now it was the few tenacious Imperials who were the outlaws and rebels. Was it so different from the way it had been, he wondered.
"Leia, those prisoners down there..." he began finally.
"Yes? What about them?"
"Nothing. I just...wonder how many of them are really guilty, and how many were just following orders out of fear, or because they thought it was the 'right' thing to do."
"I'm sure they'll all be treated fairly, Luke. Most of them will probably be released. Just think if it was us down there, and Imperials up here."
Luke nodded. He knew that if things had turned out differently—if it had been the Empire that had won-there would have been no trials for the Alliance supporters. Luke, Leia, Han, and the others would have been summarily executed without even the pretense of a trial. But there were too many angry feelings towards the Empire, too many possibilities that the feelings might get in the way of impartiality.
The Princess sighed. "Luke, the Empire has committed too many atrocities, killed and tortured too many innocent people to let it go unpunished. The responsible ones will have to pay. The others will be allowed to return to their homes and families."
"I know, Leia. It's just that...there are too many members of the Republic who might be more interested in meting out revenge instead of justice."
Leia squeezed him gently. "Just remember which side you're on."
Luke smiled. Leia was so certain about what was right and wrong. But Luke knew that choice was the only thing that separated good from evil. Every person had dark areas in his soul, and also the potential for good. But every thinking being had the freedom to decide between them. Even Palpatine.
But Palpatine had made his decision, and Luke knew that he would not turn from it.
Palpatine needed someone who was strong with the Force; that much was clear. It was also clear that he needed someone who would accept him willingly. Luke had felt the temptations of the Dark Side, had nearly been seduced by them. The black corners of his own soul had nearly corrupted him before—could corrupt him still, if he wasn't careful.
If Palpatine were still alive, then only a fully trained Jedi Knight could defeat him, and Luke was now the only fully trained Jedi Knight. But Luke had already tried, and failed, to defeat Palpatine. It was Darth Vader—or rather Anakin Skywalker—who had defeated Palpatine, not Luke.
Yet the vision...
Luke had passed his test in the confrontation with Vader. He had come very near to giving in to the Dark Side, but he had resisted. Was he to face a similar test, with a different result?
"You know, Luke, I've been thinking," the Princess said. "What you need is someone to take your mind off things. I've got a few friends I could introduce you to. Some of them are really quite charming..." she left the invitation open.
Luke smiled to himself. Was Leia trying to play match-maker? "I'm a Jedi Knight, Leia."
"So?" she pressed. "What's that got to do with anything? There's no rule that says you have to be celibate."
The words of an old teacher floated back to Luke now. A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind...
"I'll think about it," he promised half-heartedly. Then he added, "when I get back."
Leia sighed. "What can I do to change your mind?"
"Nothing," he said. "Please understand that it's not you, Leia. You know how much I want to be there. It's just that I—"
Suddenly Luke stiffened. The presence he had felt in the Force suddenly grew stronger, connecting with him. At the same time, he heard a name being called. A strange presence, one that he had never felt before, but his own name.
"Skywalker! Son of Skywalker!" The shout came from below, from one of the ranks of prisoners. It was half-challenge, half-plea.
Luke found the face that went with the voice. The prisoner had stopped and was regarding Luke levelly from beneath the cap of an Imperial Colonel. The P.O.W. gave Luke a quick little salute before being prodded along by one of the guards.
The Princess squinted, trying to make out the features of the prisoner. "Do you know that person, Luke?"
Luke shook his head, puzzled. He had never felt that particular presence in the Force before and was sure that he would remember if he had. And he had never even seen a colonel of the Imperial Fleet in person before. How had that prisoner known who he was?
But what puzzled Luke even more was the salute the prisoner had given. Although Luke recognized it immediately, it was not an Imperial gesture, nor even one of the Alliance. It was a secret signal Luke thought he would never see again in his lifetime, not after Yoda had taught it to him.
It was the signal of recognition among Jedi Knights.
Leia Organa sat behind the desk in her private office and looked up at her brother with eyes that were confused and a little hurt.
"But why, Luke? I don't understand. Must you leave now? The ceremony is only a few days away. Can't it wait until then, at least?"
Luke tried to explain, knowing that she wouldn't understand. He wasn't even precisely sure of the reasons himself. There was a single word he'd gotten from his dream, the name of a world, a place to look for the answers he knew he needed: Dagobah. "I have to, Leia. There are...questions to which I need answers, and I won't find them here."
"But, Luke, just a few more days?"
"I'm sorry, Leia. I just can't." He knew how much his attendance meant to her, but it could not be helped. Something was calling him away from this place, to Dagobah. He could sense a coldness in the wash of the Force. It was like a dark river. It swirled near him, allowed him brief glimpses into its murky depths before spinning away again. Its images were elusive and refractive, and he needed a place where the waters ran a little more quietly.
The Princess didn't give up. "Luke, you're the only family I have now. I really wanted you to be there."
Skywalker shook his head, a little sadly. He had discovered a single piece of a puzzle in the spinning currents of the dream-vision from the night before, and it had to be solved. "I really wish I could, Leia, but—“
At that moment, the door to Leia's private office opened, and Han Solo, scoundrel-at-large, made a grand entrance.
"I'm here!" the Corellian announced unnecessarily, adding a flourish. "Hi ya, kid," he said to Luke. He went to give Leia a warm kiss, but she presented him with her cheek instead. Annoyed, he didn't kiss her at all.
Luke smiled to himself. He was still amazed that a relationship between these two had developed at all, much less come this far. Princess and Pirate, soon to be married. Even the Force could not have predicted that.
"Luke says he has to leave before the wedding," Leia informed her future husband.
"Yeah?" Han said. "Well, clear skies, kid." It was a traditional spacer's farewell.
"Aren't you going to help me convince him to stay?"
"Why?" Han asked, genuinely surprised.
They started arguing. Luke didn't hear what they were saying. He was distracted by thoughts of the vision. He wondered for a moment if perhaps Leia was the answer to the puzzle. Dagobah was a training ground. Perhaps that was why he had seen it in his dream. If he could train Leia in the ways of the Force, perhaps the two of them together could find a way to defeat Palpatine. But as soon as he asked himself the question, he realized that he already knew the answer. Leia would never become a Jedi Knight. It wasn't because she lacked the potential—Luke knew that he had inherited the same Force-sensitivity that he had--but just the same, she wouldn't.
She would never learn to use the power, because she didn't want it. Deep inside, she was frightened of it.
The Princess Organa had courage, there was no doubt about that. She had faced situations that would have made many brave men run in terror. But always her actions had been motivated by a clear understanding of circumstances.
The Force, however, was not an easily understood phenomenon. And Leia tended to avoid things she didn't understand.
Suddenly, Luke's head snapped up. He felt something in the Force, something very near. Not directly linked with Palpatine, but tied into the dark puzzle somehow. Something to do with Dagobah. Unconsciously, he moved to the large sliding doors that led to the balcony beyond.
"So, Luke" Han was saying, "do you know how many Crimian dancers it takes to fill a turbo-flush?"
"What?" Skywalker asked, startled.
"Han!" the Princess protested.
The Corellian grinned. "You looked like you were sleepwalking. Just thought I'd wake you up."
Luke would have smiled. But right now...he felt drawn, somehow, to the window, to the street below. He opened the glass doors and stepped outside.
For the first time, Leia seemed to realize that her brother was troubled. "Luke?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer her. He was busy scanning the scene on the ground. A parade of Imperial prisoners-of-war was just coming turning a corner to pass by their building. The prisoners were being marched toward holding areas where they would wait until transport could be arranged to take them to other places, where they would again be held until their individual trials could be arranged. The war was over, but the effects of the war were not.
"Luke?" the Princess said again. She tried to reach him through the Force. Such a timid reaching out, but Luke answered it anyway to reassure her.
"Hey, kid, you all right?" the Corellian called, concerned.
"I'm fine," Luke replied aloud. He continued to gaze at the street below. There was something about the prisoners there, a presence...
Leia joined him on the balcony. She touched him lightly on the shoulder, and he automatically put an arm around her, but he did not take his eyes off the procession.
"Luke, what's the matter?"
The Jedi didn't answer right away. He was studying the troops below. Now that the war was over, the Aliance sympathizers were no longer the Rebels. Now it was the few tenacious Imperials who were the outlaws and rebels. Was it so different from the way it had been, he wondered.
"Leia, those prisoners down there..." he began finally.
"Yes? What about them?"
"Nothing. I just...wonder how many of them are really guilty, and how many were just following orders out of fear, or because they thought it was the 'right' thing to do."
"I'm sure they'll all be treated fairly, Luke. Most of them will probably be released. Just think if it was us down there, and Imperials up here."
Luke nodded. He knew that if things had turned out differently—if it had been the Empire that had won-there would have been no trials for the Alliance supporters. Luke, Leia, Han, and the others would have been summarily executed without even the pretense of a trial. But there were too many angry feelings towards the Empire, too many possibilities that the feelings might get in the way of impartiality.
The Princess sighed. "Luke, the Empire has committed too many atrocities, killed and tortured too many innocent people to let it go unpunished. The responsible ones will have to pay. The others will be allowed to return to their homes and families."
"I know, Leia. It's just that...there are too many members of the Republic who might be more interested in meting out revenge instead of justice."
Leia squeezed him gently. "Just remember which side you're on."
Luke smiled. Leia was so certain about what was right and wrong. But Luke knew that choice was the only thing that separated good from evil. Every person had dark areas in his soul, and also the potential for good. But every thinking being had the freedom to decide between them. Even Palpatine.
But Palpatine had made his decision, and Luke knew that he would not turn from it.
Palpatine needed someone who was strong with the Force; that much was clear. It was also clear that he needed someone who would accept him willingly. Luke had felt the temptations of the Dark Side, had nearly been seduced by them. The black corners of his own soul had nearly corrupted him before—could corrupt him still, if he wasn't careful.
If Palpatine were still alive, then only a fully trained Jedi Knight could defeat him, and Luke was now the only fully trained Jedi Knight. But Luke had already tried, and failed, to defeat Palpatine. It was Darth Vader—or rather Anakin Skywalker—who had defeated Palpatine, not Luke.
Yet the vision...
Luke had passed his test in the confrontation with Vader. He had come very near to giving in to the Dark Side, but he had resisted. Was he to face a similar test, with a different result?
"You know, Luke, I've been thinking," the Princess said. "What you need is someone to take your mind off things. I've got a few friends I could introduce you to. Some of them are really quite charming..." she left the invitation open.
Luke smiled to himself. Was Leia trying to play match-maker? "I'm a Jedi Knight, Leia."
"So?" she pressed. "What's that got to do with anything? There's no rule that says you have to be celibate."
The words of an old teacher floated back to Luke now. A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind...
"I'll think about it," he promised half-heartedly. Then he added, "when I get back."
Leia sighed. "What can I do to change your mind?"
"Nothing," he said. "Please understand that it's not you, Leia. You know how much I want to be there. It's just that I—"
Suddenly Luke stiffened. The presence he had felt in the Force suddenly grew stronger, connecting with him. At the same time, he heard a name being called. A strange presence, one that he had never felt before, but his own name.
"Skywalker! Son of Skywalker!" The shout came from below, from one of the ranks of prisoners. It was half-challenge, half-plea.
Luke found the face that went with the voice. The prisoner had stopped and was regarding Luke levelly from beneath the cap of an Imperial Colonel. The P.O.W. gave Luke a quick little salute before being prodded along by one of the guards.
The Princess squinted, trying to make out the features of the prisoner. "Do you know that person, Luke?"
Luke shook his head, puzzled. He had never felt that particular presence in the Force before and was sure that he would remember if he had. And he had never even seen a colonel of the Imperial Fleet in person before. How had that prisoner known who he was?
But what puzzled Luke even more was the salute the prisoner had given. Although Luke recognized it immediately, it was not an Imperial gesture, nor even one of the Alliance. It was a secret signal Luke thought he would never see again in his lifetime, not after Yoda had taught it to him.
It was the signal of recognition among Jedi Knights.
-----
Chapter Two
Luke stole quietly among the shadows, keeping close to the walls of the make-shift prison. The uniform Leia had once had copied for him from historical records of the former Jedi Knights from the Old Republic was practical as well as symbolic. The material stretched with him as he moved, and the blackness of it hid him well.
He knew where to go, even though he had never been in this building before. The prisoner he had seen on the street had left a mental trail. Difficult to follow. Difficult, but not impossible.
The trail was left deliberately, but only a Jedi Knight could have followed it. Only a Jedi Knight could have made it.
No, that wasn't--quite—true.
Luke stopped suddenly. There were guards ahead, and he had to get to the corridor beyond. One of the guards Luke recognized: Wedge Antilles, a pilot who had fought in and survived two attacks on the Imperial battle stations called Death Stars. Luke liked Wedge, might even have called him a friend, but right now Wedge was a problem.
Ordinarily, Luke would just have gone up to Wedge and asked to be let through, but not this time. This visit was a secret and had to be kept that way. No one must know that Luke was here.
The Jedi concentrated momentarily.
One of the three guards, not Wedge, perked up. "What was that?" he asked.
"What was what?" Wedge responded.
"I heard it, too," the third guard said. "It was a scratching sound, like, I don't know, like maybe one of the prisoners is trying to dig himself out."
"We'd better check it," the first guard said.
"Hold it," Wedge said. "I didn't hear anything." He was reluctant to leave his post.
Luke concentrated again. A chair, further down the hall, raised a fraction of an inch and then dropped itself to the floor.
"There, did you hear that?"
"Yeah," Wedge said slowly, unholstering his blaster. "Let's take a look."
The three of them started down the hall, in the opposite direction from Luke. After just a few seconds, Wedge returned to the guard station.
By then, however, there was nothing to see.
.
.
.
Quickly, silently as a cat, Luke made his way past the cells. Every so often a prisoner would stir in his sleep, but none wakened. Finally Luke found the cell he wanted. This was a special cell, removed slightly from all the other cells, for it contained a special prisoner. A full Imperial colonel.
The computer-coded identity plate at the door gave Luke the name of the prisoner inside. The name made his blood run cold. It was a name that had inspired universal fear when the Empire was in power; it was a name that inspired universal hate, now. Many members of the Republic would give anything for a single shot at the owner of that name, including their lives.
Yet the words of Yoda drifted back to him across the distance of time and space: Too much by appearances do you judge things, my Young One. Heh! Too much on appearances do you rely.
Luke would wait a bit before deciding.
He looked into the cell. The Imperial soldier was stretched on the prison cot, covered by a blanket, facing away from Luke.
"I know you're awake," the young Jedi whispered softly. "Why did you summon me?"
Even though he could not see the face, Luke could sense that the prisoner smiled. "So—" the Imperial replied. "I see that you really are the son of Skywalker."
In one smooth motion, the figure pushed the covers aside, rolled out of bed, and moved into the light. "Do you know who I am?"
"Everyone knows who Brenna Brellis is," Luke replied carefully, "and how many people died on Croyus Four by her order." Now that he could see her clearly, he was struck by the truth of the rumors he had heard. She was reported to be beautiful, and she was. She was darkly beautiful, with hair as black and thick as midnight, eyes which, if not black, might have been a deep, rich brown. Her features were smooth and somewhat exotic, as if she were a native of a tropical world, lush and green instead of hot and barren like Tatooine, and Luke found her compellingly attractive. Yet the rumors also spoke of her heart being as black as her hair. Physical beauty was only on the surface of whatever lay underneath.
She smiled again. "Don't believe everything you read."
Luke frowned, studying the soldier before him, trying to make sense of the conflicting information his senses and his feelings were giving him. His senses told him that this was Brenna Brellis, the administrator of an Imperial death camp in which more than eight million people had died. The records showed that she had been captured on Croyus Four on a recent Allied raid; there had been no question of her identity then, and there should be none now. But his feelings—his feelings, which he trusted above all else—told him that there was a mistake somewhere. She wasn't...who everyone thought she was.
"Who are you?" he asked finally. Then he repeated his previous question. "Why did you summon me here?"
She moved closer to him, pressing her face against the bars. "I'm a friend of the Republic. But if I don't get out of this mess—" she indicated her jail, "—I'm going to be a dead friend. I might be able to clear myself at a trial, but I doubt it. In any case, I don't think I'd live that long. There are too many people who want to see Brenna Brellis dead."
Luke nodded. "So you want to escape. And you want me to help you."
"You are a Jedi Knight. You can't refuse me."
Luke studied her for a moment, through the Force. There was truth in what she had said, but there were also hidden truths in what she had left unsaid. She had not lied; she was not responsible for the murders that had been committed on Croyus Four. But there was an intimate connection between this prisoner, and the Brenna Brellis who was responsible.
And there was something else, too. A connection between this woman and the vision Luke had had from the night before. Something about Palpatine. Something Dark, and something...
"That's not all you want," Skywalker said softly. "Is it." He hesitated, then added, "Briande Brellis."
"Your powers are great indeed," she whispered. "Brenna is my twin sister. Like me, she feels the Force, but she's turned to the Dark Side. She must be stopped, and I can't do it without your help."
She paused for a moment, and then put her hand through the bars to Luke in a gesture of supplication. The arm to which the hand belonged was incongruously clothed in the drab olive-green of an Imperial official. "Son of Skywalker, you must help me. Only a trained Jedi Knight can stop my sister."
"Yet you don't want me to seek out your sister."
"No," she said. "No, that job is for me, alone."
"Then what is it you're after? Besides getting out of here."
Briande Brellis took a breath. "I need you to train me in the ways of the Force. I need you to teach me what I need to know to face my sister."
Training. Dagobah was a training ground. The connection suddenly made sense. Except...
"You're already trained." Luke said, frowning.
"Only partly. My...teacher...was unable finish what he began." She glanced down the hallway towards the guards, then returned her gaze to Luke. "You're going to have to make up your mind in a hurry. I'm scheduled for transport in the morning, to a maximum security facility, the kind of place even you wouldn't be able to break me out of. And they're having trouble finding guards who don't have a grudge against me—or rather, Brenna. One managed to slip past already. I had to break his arm when he tried to throttle me."
Skywalker met her gaze, remembering what had happened when Obi-Wan Kenobi had tried to teach another Skywalker long ago. And Ben had been kind and gentle, the perfect teacher. Luke wasn't a teacher, didn't even know how to teach. The risks were just too great.
But then he remembered the vision of Palpatine. This woman was connected, somehow. Connected in a vital way. He had the feeling that he needed her, as much as she needed him.
And he felt that single place-word again: Dagobah.
"All right," Luke said finally. His hand moved to his lightsaber dangling from his belt. "Step away from the door."
He adjusted a control, thumbed a stud, and a thin, green blade of light projected from the hilt. A second later, the lock to the cell had been sliced cleanly through.
He opened the door. "Come on."
"Just a second." She went to the cot and took something from underneath the mattress. It wasn't until she had smoothed it out and put it on her head that Luke realized it was the cap to her uniform. "I might need this later," she explained.
A second later, two dark-suited figures—one in the black uniform of a Jedi Knight and the other in the crisp, green uniform of an Imperial colonel—made their way back down the corridor from which one of them had just come. The leader moved with skillful, quick, and watchful steps. He noticed every shadow, heard every sound. The follower walked just as silently, keeping up with him, but not quite as attuned to the shadows as her Jedi-teacher was.
They approached the guard station together.
Luke stole quietly among the shadows, keeping close to the walls of the make-shift prison. The uniform Leia had once had copied for him from historical records of the former Jedi Knights from the Old Republic was practical as well as symbolic. The material stretched with him as he moved, and the blackness of it hid him well.
He knew where to go, even though he had never been in this building before. The prisoner he had seen on the street had left a mental trail. Difficult to follow. Difficult, but not impossible.
The trail was left deliberately, but only a Jedi Knight could have followed it. Only a Jedi Knight could have made it.
No, that wasn't--quite—true.
Luke stopped suddenly. There were guards ahead, and he had to get to the corridor beyond. One of the guards Luke recognized: Wedge Antilles, a pilot who had fought in and survived two attacks on the Imperial battle stations called Death Stars. Luke liked Wedge, might even have called him a friend, but right now Wedge was a problem.
Ordinarily, Luke would just have gone up to Wedge and asked to be let through, but not this time. This visit was a secret and had to be kept that way. No one must know that Luke was here.
The Jedi concentrated momentarily.
One of the three guards, not Wedge, perked up. "What was that?" he asked.
"What was what?" Wedge responded.
"I heard it, too," the third guard said. "It was a scratching sound, like, I don't know, like maybe one of the prisoners is trying to dig himself out."
"We'd better check it," the first guard said.
"Hold it," Wedge said. "I didn't hear anything." He was reluctant to leave his post.
Luke concentrated again. A chair, further down the hall, raised a fraction of an inch and then dropped itself to the floor.
"There, did you hear that?"
"Yeah," Wedge said slowly, unholstering his blaster. "Let's take a look."
The three of them started down the hall, in the opposite direction from Luke. After just a few seconds, Wedge returned to the guard station.
By then, however, there was nothing to see.
.
.
.
Quickly, silently as a cat, Luke made his way past the cells. Every so often a prisoner would stir in his sleep, but none wakened. Finally Luke found the cell he wanted. This was a special cell, removed slightly from all the other cells, for it contained a special prisoner. A full Imperial colonel.
The computer-coded identity plate at the door gave Luke the name of the prisoner inside. The name made his blood run cold. It was a name that had inspired universal fear when the Empire was in power; it was a name that inspired universal hate, now. Many members of the Republic would give anything for a single shot at the owner of that name, including their lives.
Yet the words of Yoda drifted back to him across the distance of time and space: Too much by appearances do you judge things, my Young One. Heh! Too much on appearances do you rely.
Luke would wait a bit before deciding.
He looked into the cell. The Imperial soldier was stretched on the prison cot, covered by a blanket, facing away from Luke.
"I know you're awake," the young Jedi whispered softly. "Why did you summon me?"
Even though he could not see the face, Luke could sense that the prisoner smiled. "So—" the Imperial replied. "I see that you really are the son of Skywalker."
In one smooth motion, the figure pushed the covers aside, rolled out of bed, and moved into the light. "Do you know who I am?"
"Everyone knows who Brenna Brellis is," Luke replied carefully, "and how many people died on Croyus Four by her order." Now that he could see her clearly, he was struck by the truth of the rumors he had heard. She was reported to be beautiful, and she was. She was darkly beautiful, with hair as black and thick as midnight, eyes which, if not black, might have been a deep, rich brown. Her features were smooth and somewhat exotic, as if she were a native of a tropical world, lush and green instead of hot and barren like Tatooine, and Luke found her compellingly attractive. Yet the rumors also spoke of her heart being as black as her hair. Physical beauty was only on the surface of whatever lay underneath.
She smiled again. "Don't believe everything you read."
Luke frowned, studying the soldier before him, trying to make sense of the conflicting information his senses and his feelings were giving him. His senses told him that this was Brenna Brellis, the administrator of an Imperial death camp in which more than eight million people had died. The records showed that she had been captured on Croyus Four on a recent Allied raid; there had been no question of her identity then, and there should be none now. But his feelings—his feelings, which he trusted above all else—told him that there was a mistake somewhere. She wasn't...who everyone thought she was.
"Who are you?" he asked finally. Then he repeated his previous question. "Why did you summon me here?"
She moved closer to him, pressing her face against the bars. "I'm a friend of the Republic. But if I don't get out of this mess—" she indicated her jail, "—I'm going to be a dead friend. I might be able to clear myself at a trial, but I doubt it. In any case, I don't think I'd live that long. There are too many people who want to see Brenna Brellis dead."
Luke nodded. "So you want to escape. And you want me to help you."
"You are a Jedi Knight. You can't refuse me."
Luke studied her for a moment, through the Force. There was truth in what she had said, but there were also hidden truths in what she had left unsaid. She had not lied; she was not responsible for the murders that had been committed on Croyus Four. But there was an intimate connection between this prisoner, and the Brenna Brellis who was responsible.
And there was something else, too. A connection between this woman and the vision Luke had had from the night before. Something about Palpatine. Something Dark, and something...
"That's not all you want," Skywalker said softly. "Is it." He hesitated, then added, "Briande Brellis."
"Your powers are great indeed," she whispered. "Brenna is my twin sister. Like me, she feels the Force, but she's turned to the Dark Side. She must be stopped, and I can't do it without your help."
She paused for a moment, and then put her hand through the bars to Luke in a gesture of supplication. The arm to which the hand belonged was incongruously clothed in the drab olive-green of an Imperial official. "Son of Skywalker, you must help me. Only a trained Jedi Knight can stop my sister."
"Yet you don't want me to seek out your sister."
"No," she said. "No, that job is for me, alone."
"Then what is it you're after? Besides getting out of here."
Briande Brellis took a breath. "I need you to train me in the ways of the Force. I need you to teach me what I need to know to face my sister."
Training. Dagobah was a training ground. The connection suddenly made sense. Except...
"You're already trained." Luke said, frowning.
"Only partly. My...teacher...was unable finish what he began." She glanced down the hallway towards the guards, then returned her gaze to Luke. "You're going to have to make up your mind in a hurry. I'm scheduled for transport in the morning, to a maximum security facility, the kind of place even you wouldn't be able to break me out of. And they're having trouble finding guards who don't have a grudge against me—or rather, Brenna. One managed to slip past already. I had to break his arm when he tried to throttle me."
Skywalker met her gaze, remembering what had happened when Obi-Wan Kenobi had tried to teach another Skywalker long ago. And Ben had been kind and gentle, the perfect teacher. Luke wasn't a teacher, didn't even know how to teach. The risks were just too great.
But then he remembered the vision of Palpatine. This woman was connected, somehow. Connected in a vital way. He had the feeling that he needed her, as much as she needed him.
And he felt that single place-word again: Dagobah.
"All right," Luke said finally. His hand moved to his lightsaber dangling from his belt. "Step away from the door."
He adjusted a control, thumbed a stud, and a thin, green blade of light projected from the hilt. A second later, the lock to the cell had been sliced cleanly through.
He opened the door. "Come on."
"Just a second." She went to the cot and took something from underneath the mattress. It wasn't until she had smoothed it out and put it on her head that Luke realized it was the cap to her uniform. "I might need this later," she explained.
A second later, two dark-suited figures—one in the black uniform of a Jedi Knight and the other in the crisp, green uniform of an Imperial colonel—made their way back down the corridor from which one of them had just come. The leader moved with skillful, quick, and watchful steps. He noticed every shadow, heard every sound. The follower walked just as silently, keeping up with him, but not quite as attuned to the shadows as her Jedi-teacher was.
They approached the guard station together.
-----
Chapter Three
Wedge felt uneasy. He had a feeling that something was off. If he had been in his fighter, he would have veered off, looped up, and doubled back to see what was behind him. As it was, he had to settle for simply taking a look down the cell bay.
"Where you goin', Wedge?" one of his companions asked.
"Nowhere," he replied. "Just taking a walk." It would have been impossible to explain what he was doing, because he didn't really understand it himself. Probably he was just jittery from working at a nice, safe, sit-down job for once. The fact that he had Brenna Brellis as a prisoner meant very little to him, although he was conscious that if things had worked out somewhat differently, his father might have died on Croyus Four instead of on his ship. Wedge had a job to do, and guarding Brenna Brellis was just part of that job, nothing more and nothing less.
There was nothing to be concerned about. The building and grounds were well-alarmed and well-patrolled. There was no way anybody could get in or out without somebody noticing. And here within the deepest interior part of the prison—well, the idea was just too ludicrous to think about.
Nevertheless, Wedge still had an odd feeling.
He got about halfway down the corridor when he stopped. Puzzled, he reached for the lamp switch at his waist. As the light flooded the small section of corridor, he stepped back in total surprise—not fear, for he had fought with Luke and trusted his life to him more than once—but this was the last face he ever expected to find here.
"Luke, what are you doing—ooophh!" He crumpled to the floor as a hand from the shadows behind him expertly clipped him on the back of the head.
Luke quickly bent over Antilles' fallen form and checked for pulse and breathing. The lamp had automatically extinguished itself in Wedge's fall.
"He'll be all right," Briande Brellis whispered.
Luke was relieved to see that Wedge would, indeed, be all right—provided he took it easy and got proper rest for the next couple of days. But just then a worried call sounded from near the guard's station. "Hey, Wedge, you all right?"
The voice that answered was not Wedge's, but in the two guards’ minds, it sounded like Antilles. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just stubbed my toe."
"You need any help?"
"No, that's all right. But, um, listen—I'm gonna check out the delta back-up system. It might take a few minutes, so keep your shirts on."
"Sure thing, Wedge. Let us know if you need anything."
Luke paused a moment with his hand over the unconscious pilot's forehead to try and make him forget what he had just seen. Hopefully, the mind-suggestion would work on Wedge.
"Nice trick," Briande Brellis said, referring to Luke's voice-manipulation with the guards. "How did you do it?"
Skywalker straightened and thought back to a time when he himself had asked a similar question."The Force," Luke replied, smiling, "can have a strong influence on weak minds. Let's go now. Quickly."
The toll of all the Jedi's efforts and concentration of getting inside the prison, and now back outside began to show its effects on Luke's forehead, where beads of sweat were starting to collect. Luke peered around the corner at the station, where there were still two guards left, and took a moment to gather himself for another effort of concentration.
Briande Brellis came up from behind. "Allow me," she said softly.
Luke stepped aside and watched as she reached up to her uniform collar and pulled off a decorative button that had no real practical purpose on the uniform. Then she gauged height and distance and lofted the button high over the heads of the guards and down into the corridor beyond. Luke smiled to himself. It was not exactly what he would have done, but it was effective.
The button fell to the floor with a clatter.
The two guards looked at each other. "I must be goin' nuts," one of them commented.
"Maybe we both are," the other said.
"Either that, or we got ghosts."
Unholstering their blasters, they stepped slowly and cautiously down the corridor where the sound had come from. One guards moved to the light switch that was against the wall. It would wake some of the prisoners, but the evening's noises were just too strange.
Light poured over the entire cell block.
"Hey!" someone complained noisily. "Turn it off!" This sentiment was chorused by several other of the more vocal prisoners.
The guards looked at each other again.
"There's nothin' here," one of the grumbled. They turned around and went back to their station.
They had almost made it to the prison's main exit without further incident when Luke's intended pupil started to duck down a side corridor, towards the armory. He pulled her back by the arm. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked hoarsely.
"They'll have put my lightsaber in there," she replied.
"Leave it," the Jedi said.
"But I—"
"Leave it!" he ordered. For a second, he thought she was going to disobey him, but she didn't. Instead, she set her mouth into a determined line and nodded reluctantly. Then she followed him down the hallway that led to the outside.
Before reaching the exit, the shadows that had been their cover gave way to the lights from the overhead fixtures that were left on all night. Luke and his student pressed themselves against the wall at the edge of the shadows to avoid being seen by the guards on patrol. The sentries carried both blasters and riot guns.
Luke could sense Briande's gaze travelling from the guards and their weapons to the lightsaber dangling at Luke's own hip. He sighed to himself. If they were going to work together, they would have to start trusting each other.
Skywalker motioned for his student to be quiet and to remain where she was. Then he slipped deeper into the darkness and backtracked the way they had come. When he returned a few minutes later, he had Briande's lightsaber in hand. As he held it out to her, he noticed that she seemed neither surprised nor expectant. She just took it and looked at him coolly as she attached it to her belt.
Luke glanced at the exit and then pulled her further back into the shadows where they could talk. There were just a few moments left before the guards would be positioned so that they could escape without being seen.
"The doorway is alarmed," he told her. "We can't walk through without setting off the alarms."
"How do we get out of here, then?" she asked.
Luke gestured. "There's a small window at the top, the last two feet, where it's not alarmed. I'll help you. When I move, give me a three second head-start, and then come running as quickly and as quietly as you can. I’ll boost you up."
Briande Brellis nodded. They went back to the bare edge of the shadows, where she eyed the twelve-foot high door doubtfully.
The Son of Skywalker watched until the guards separated. Then he broke out into a dead run that was made in complete silence. Just at the last possible instant before going through the alarmed passageway, he skidded to a stop on one knee and cupped his hands into a stirrup.
Exactly three seconds later, the woman who looked like Brenna Brellis followed after him. She, too, went running for the door, but unlike Luke she did not stop. Instead, she tried to build even more speed. When she reached Luke, she stepped into his clasped hands.
Luke reacted instantly. Using Jedi-trained muscles, he launched her up into the air and catapulted her over the alarmed section of the door.
It was a high distance, and Luke's apprentice just cleared it. She landed shoulder-first on the ground beyond and rolled away into the darkness.
Without waiting to see whether she successfully landed or not, Luke brought himself from the kneeling position into a forward-face crouch in a single motion, and jumped high into the air. At the apex of his leap, he executed a forward tuck-and-roll which carried him safely through the narrow two feet of unalarmed door. He regained his feet and sprang into the shadows where Briande Brellis waited, just as the guards turned to face each other again, but Luke and his student were moving silently away, invisible in the shadows.
When they were out in the open, away from the prison and moving towards the landing field where Luke's fighter rested, the Jedi turned to his companion. They could talk now. "Who trained you?"
"My father." She picked her way across a tree that had fallen during an electrical storm.
"Your father? He's a Jedi Knight?" Luke was surprised. He had thought he was the only one.
"Was a Jedi Knight. He's dead now."
Luke stopped and looked at her compassionately. "I'm sorry. He must have meant a lot to you." He extended a hand to help her across a small gully, and also to offer a small gesture of consolation.
Briande ignored the hand and jumped across unaided. "I have no feelings for him. He was already half-dead before my sister killed him."
"What do you mean?"
She looked at Luke through eyes that were as cold and distant as space. "I mean that my father was a cripple, not only in body, but also in mind. When my mother was killed, he died with her. He became an empty shell, living in a decrepit body, thinking of very little besides his memories of the past. He swore that he would never pass on his knowledge of the Force, but when Brenna joined the Dark side, he had no choice. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to finish.
Luke waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he picked up the conversation again with another question he was puzzled about. "How did you know me? We'd never even met before I saw you on the street."
Briande Brellis replied crisply, answering his questions but offering no more information. "Before he died, my father told me that if anything happened to him, I was to seek out the Son of Skywalker. He foresaw that you would become a Jedi Knight."
"That still doesn't explain how you could identify my presence."
She didn't look at him, but kept her eyes focused on the terrain, almost as if he wasn't there. "Your father's memory was deeply ingrained into my father's consciousness. He couldn't help but pass it on to me. Much of your father's spirit was passed on to you. I recognized it when I saw you on the balcony."
Luke felt his heart pounding. Which part of his father's memory had Briande Brellis felt? The part that had been Anakin Skywalker, or the other, the Dark One?
Almost as if she had heard his thoughts, Briande Brellis answered him, but her tone was as expressionless as her face. "I hope your father didn't pass everything on to you. It was he who destroyed my father long ago. The man who murdered my mother and made my father an invalid was Darth Vader."
Luke stopped and stared at her in shock. "Then why did you—?"
"Why did I ask you to help me?"
Luke nodded.
"I couldn't get out of that cell alone. And you are the only one who can train me. Besides, your father is the one who turned, not you. Just like it's my sister who turned, not me."
Briande was, Luke suddenly realized, in many ways just like him. It was her place to stop her sister—just as it had been Luke's place to stop Darth Vader. Luke was the only one who could provide her the training she needed to do it, and therefore, whatever personal distaste she may have felt towards the son of Darth Vader had to be set aside.
A Jedi and a Jedi-in-training, each with a dark secret. Each having, or having had, a Dark counterpart. But what Briande did not know—or perhaps she did—was that Luke and his father had been very much alike. Perhaps she and her sister were just as closely linked.
All at once, in the distance, a series of bells and sirens began to sound. Luke and Briande looked at each other. "Somebody must have noticed that you're missing," Luke said.
"Or maybe your friend woke up," Briande suggested. “I probably should have clipped him harder, but I didn't want to risk too serious an injury.”
Either way, Luke thought, it didn't matter. What did matter right now was speed. He held his hand out, remembering that she had refused it before. But this time, with just the barest instant's hesitation, she took it.
"Come on," Luke urged, pulling her with him. The success of their escape depended on reaching his ship before the guards and prison authorities reached them.
Hand in hand, they made a run for the landing field.
Wedge felt uneasy. He had a feeling that something was off. If he had been in his fighter, he would have veered off, looped up, and doubled back to see what was behind him. As it was, he had to settle for simply taking a look down the cell bay.
"Where you goin', Wedge?" one of his companions asked.
"Nowhere," he replied. "Just taking a walk." It would have been impossible to explain what he was doing, because he didn't really understand it himself. Probably he was just jittery from working at a nice, safe, sit-down job for once. The fact that he had Brenna Brellis as a prisoner meant very little to him, although he was conscious that if things had worked out somewhat differently, his father might have died on Croyus Four instead of on his ship. Wedge had a job to do, and guarding Brenna Brellis was just part of that job, nothing more and nothing less.
There was nothing to be concerned about. The building and grounds were well-alarmed and well-patrolled. There was no way anybody could get in or out without somebody noticing. And here within the deepest interior part of the prison—well, the idea was just too ludicrous to think about.
Nevertheless, Wedge still had an odd feeling.
He got about halfway down the corridor when he stopped. Puzzled, he reached for the lamp switch at his waist. As the light flooded the small section of corridor, he stepped back in total surprise—not fear, for he had fought with Luke and trusted his life to him more than once—but this was the last face he ever expected to find here.
"Luke, what are you doing—ooophh!" He crumpled to the floor as a hand from the shadows behind him expertly clipped him on the back of the head.
Luke quickly bent over Antilles' fallen form and checked for pulse and breathing. The lamp had automatically extinguished itself in Wedge's fall.
"He'll be all right," Briande Brellis whispered.
Luke was relieved to see that Wedge would, indeed, be all right—provided he took it easy and got proper rest for the next couple of days. But just then a worried call sounded from near the guard's station. "Hey, Wedge, you all right?"
The voice that answered was not Wedge's, but in the two guards’ minds, it sounded like Antilles. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just stubbed my toe."
"You need any help?"
"No, that's all right. But, um, listen—I'm gonna check out the delta back-up system. It might take a few minutes, so keep your shirts on."
"Sure thing, Wedge. Let us know if you need anything."
Luke paused a moment with his hand over the unconscious pilot's forehead to try and make him forget what he had just seen. Hopefully, the mind-suggestion would work on Wedge.
"Nice trick," Briande Brellis said, referring to Luke's voice-manipulation with the guards. "How did you do it?"
Skywalker straightened and thought back to a time when he himself had asked a similar question."The Force," Luke replied, smiling, "can have a strong influence on weak minds. Let's go now. Quickly."
The toll of all the Jedi's efforts and concentration of getting inside the prison, and now back outside began to show its effects on Luke's forehead, where beads of sweat were starting to collect. Luke peered around the corner at the station, where there were still two guards left, and took a moment to gather himself for another effort of concentration.
Briande Brellis came up from behind. "Allow me," she said softly.
Luke stepped aside and watched as she reached up to her uniform collar and pulled off a decorative button that had no real practical purpose on the uniform. Then she gauged height and distance and lofted the button high over the heads of the guards and down into the corridor beyond. Luke smiled to himself. It was not exactly what he would have done, but it was effective.
The button fell to the floor with a clatter.
The two guards looked at each other. "I must be goin' nuts," one of them commented.
"Maybe we both are," the other said.
"Either that, or we got ghosts."
Unholstering their blasters, they stepped slowly and cautiously down the corridor where the sound had come from. One guards moved to the light switch that was against the wall. It would wake some of the prisoners, but the evening's noises were just too strange.
Light poured over the entire cell block.
"Hey!" someone complained noisily. "Turn it off!" This sentiment was chorused by several other of the more vocal prisoners.
The guards looked at each other again.
"There's nothin' here," one of the grumbled. They turned around and went back to their station.
They had almost made it to the prison's main exit without further incident when Luke's intended pupil started to duck down a side corridor, towards the armory. He pulled her back by the arm. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked hoarsely.
"They'll have put my lightsaber in there," she replied.
"Leave it," the Jedi said.
"But I—"
"Leave it!" he ordered. For a second, he thought she was going to disobey him, but she didn't. Instead, she set her mouth into a determined line and nodded reluctantly. Then she followed him down the hallway that led to the outside.
Before reaching the exit, the shadows that had been their cover gave way to the lights from the overhead fixtures that were left on all night. Luke and his student pressed themselves against the wall at the edge of the shadows to avoid being seen by the guards on patrol. The sentries carried both blasters and riot guns.
Luke could sense Briande's gaze travelling from the guards and their weapons to the lightsaber dangling at Luke's own hip. He sighed to himself. If they were going to work together, they would have to start trusting each other.
Skywalker motioned for his student to be quiet and to remain where she was. Then he slipped deeper into the darkness and backtracked the way they had come. When he returned a few minutes later, he had Briande's lightsaber in hand. As he held it out to her, he noticed that she seemed neither surprised nor expectant. She just took it and looked at him coolly as she attached it to her belt.
Luke glanced at the exit and then pulled her further back into the shadows where they could talk. There were just a few moments left before the guards would be positioned so that they could escape without being seen.
"The doorway is alarmed," he told her. "We can't walk through without setting off the alarms."
"How do we get out of here, then?" she asked.
Luke gestured. "There's a small window at the top, the last two feet, where it's not alarmed. I'll help you. When I move, give me a three second head-start, and then come running as quickly and as quietly as you can. I’ll boost you up."
Briande Brellis nodded. They went back to the bare edge of the shadows, where she eyed the twelve-foot high door doubtfully.
The Son of Skywalker watched until the guards separated. Then he broke out into a dead run that was made in complete silence. Just at the last possible instant before going through the alarmed passageway, he skidded to a stop on one knee and cupped his hands into a stirrup.
Exactly three seconds later, the woman who looked like Brenna Brellis followed after him. She, too, went running for the door, but unlike Luke she did not stop. Instead, she tried to build even more speed. When she reached Luke, she stepped into his clasped hands.
Luke reacted instantly. Using Jedi-trained muscles, he launched her up into the air and catapulted her over the alarmed section of the door.
It was a high distance, and Luke's apprentice just cleared it. She landed shoulder-first on the ground beyond and rolled away into the darkness.
Without waiting to see whether she successfully landed or not, Luke brought himself from the kneeling position into a forward-face crouch in a single motion, and jumped high into the air. At the apex of his leap, he executed a forward tuck-and-roll which carried him safely through the narrow two feet of unalarmed door. He regained his feet and sprang into the shadows where Briande Brellis waited, just as the guards turned to face each other again, but Luke and his student were moving silently away, invisible in the shadows.
When they were out in the open, away from the prison and moving towards the landing field where Luke's fighter rested, the Jedi turned to his companion. They could talk now. "Who trained you?"
"My father." She picked her way across a tree that had fallen during an electrical storm.
"Your father? He's a Jedi Knight?" Luke was surprised. He had thought he was the only one.
"Was a Jedi Knight. He's dead now."
Luke stopped and looked at her compassionately. "I'm sorry. He must have meant a lot to you." He extended a hand to help her across a small gully, and also to offer a small gesture of consolation.
Briande ignored the hand and jumped across unaided. "I have no feelings for him. He was already half-dead before my sister killed him."
"What do you mean?"
She looked at Luke through eyes that were as cold and distant as space. "I mean that my father was a cripple, not only in body, but also in mind. When my mother was killed, he died with her. He became an empty shell, living in a decrepit body, thinking of very little besides his memories of the past. He swore that he would never pass on his knowledge of the Force, but when Brenna joined the Dark side, he had no choice. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to finish.
Luke waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he picked up the conversation again with another question he was puzzled about. "How did you know me? We'd never even met before I saw you on the street."
Briande Brellis replied crisply, answering his questions but offering no more information. "Before he died, my father told me that if anything happened to him, I was to seek out the Son of Skywalker. He foresaw that you would become a Jedi Knight."
"That still doesn't explain how you could identify my presence."
She didn't look at him, but kept her eyes focused on the terrain, almost as if he wasn't there. "Your father's memory was deeply ingrained into my father's consciousness. He couldn't help but pass it on to me. Much of your father's spirit was passed on to you. I recognized it when I saw you on the balcony."
Luke felt his heart pounding. Which part of his father's memory had Briande Brellis felt? The part that had been Anakin Skywalker, or the other, the Dark One?
Almost as if she had heard his thoughts, Briande Brellis answered him, but her tone was as expressionless as her face. "I hope your father didn't pass everything on to you. It was he who destroyed my father long ago. The man who murdered my mother and made my father an invalid was Darth Vader."
Luke stopped and stared at her in shock. "Then why did you—?"
"Why did I ask you to help me?"
Luke nodded.
"I couldn't get out of that cell alone. And you are the only one who can train me. Besides, your father is the one who turned, not you. Just like it's my sister who turned, not me."
Briande was, Luke suddenly realized, in many ways just like him. It was her place to stop her sister—just as it had been Luke's place to stop Darth Vader. Luke was the only one who could provide her the training she needed to do it, and therefore, whatever personal distaste she may have felt towards the son of Darth Vader had to be set aside.
A Jedi and a Jedi-in-training, each with a dark secret. Each having, or having had, a Dark counterpart. But what Briande did not know—or perhaps she did—was that Luke and his father had been very much alike. Perhaps she and her sister were just as closely linked.
All at once, in the distance, a series of bells and sirens began to sound. Luke and Briande looked at each other. "Somebody must have noticed that you're missing," Luke said.
"Or maybe your friend woke up," Briande suggested. “I probably should have clipped him harder, but I didn't want to risk too serious an injury.”
Either way, Luke thought, it didn't matter. What did matter right now was speed. He held his hand out, remembering that she had refused it before. But this time, with just the barest instant's hesitation, she took it.
"Come on," Luke urged, pulling her with him. The success of their escape depended on reaching his ship before the guards and prison authorities reached them.
Hand in hand, they made a run for the landing field.
-----
Chapter Four
Han pulled off the panel to get to the wiring underneath. "So if we by-pass the servo-systems and link up directly with the thermo-coupler, we should be able to—" He stopped as he looked behind the panel and saw something that didn't belong there.
Chewbacca woofed.
Han reached for the cube and pulled it out. It was silverish, only about three inches square on each side, with tiny symbols engraved on an inch-wide ivory-like band that wrapped around the box on four sides. "I forgot I stashed that there," he said.
"Mmmphrrr?" Chewbacca asked.
"No, no. You remember that time when the Imperials boarded us in the Vernati system? I thought they might be disappointed over not getting any cargo and start looking for other things to loot."
"Bruwwwl rrrmph."
Han smiled and shook his head. "I still don't know. I kept meaning to take it to an art dealer to see if I could find out anything. I figure it's gotta be worth something, though. Otherwise, why would my old lady have saved it for me?" He ran his fingers along the figures on the band. "At the very least, maybe they could melt the metal down and—" He stopped again, and frowned. There was something familiar about one of the figures. He studied it for a moment, then thrust the cube at Chewbacca. "Wait a minute," he said, and rushed aft, back towards his cabin.
He went to the full-length mirror, pulled it open on the non-hinged side, then pulled out a drawer from the dresser located behind it. He rummaged through the shirts for a second, and came out with a wide, flat case. The case had once held several military medals, but Han preferred not to think too much about that. He sat down on the bed with the case, touched the releases that flipped the lid open, then searched through the various memorabilia until he found a ring. It was something his mother had worn when she was alive, and which he had inherited from her—like the cube. He left the case on the bed and rushed forward again.
"I don't know why I never saw this before," he said, taking the cube back from Chewbacca. He turned the box around until he found the place in the band that he had noticed earlier. It was an indentation between two of the carved symbols, and Han studied it again. The negative concave image on the band of the cube matched the positive convex design on the ring's carved stone exactly. Han looked at Chewbacca, shrugged, then fit the ring to the space in the cube.
There was a click as the bottom of the cube swung open and something fell to the floor. Han grinned and picked it up. "Well, I'll be damned," he said.
Chewbacca made a growling noise. Han looked at him in surprise, then considered the suggestion.
"You know," he said, "that's not a bad idea. It would certainly save me the trouble of looking for something to buy..."
.
.
.
Leia Organa sat at her desk, staring absently at the computer tape displayed in front of her. The intercom beeped softly, and she reached over to touch the button. C-3P0's mechanically inflected voice filled the otherwise silent office. "Mistress Leia, Captain Solo would like to—no, wait! Captain Solo, I haven't intro—"
Leia smiled to herself. Han always ignored the standard protocol, despite Threepio's best efforts. Someday, she would teach him the proper etiquette, she decided.
The door slid open and Han sailed through it, with Threepio clanking along behind. "Captain Solo, it's really quite improper to—"
"It's all right, Threepio," Leia said, waving him off.
The protocol 'droid made a noise as he left the room to return to his other duties. Han wasn't sure whether he was expressing disapproval, or if he needed an oil bath.
"How ya doin', Sweetheart?" Han asked breezily. Usually it irked her to be called 'sweetheart,' but today she didn't seem to notice. Han noticed that she didn't notice, though. He walked behind her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, Leia, don't worry. Things will turn out."
"Luke's no traitor, Han," the Princess said quietly.
"You think I don't know that? Huh?" Solo perched himself casually on a corner of her desk. "He's my friend, too, you know."
"I know. I just wish...he were here now, and this whole thing with Wedge never happened."
"Yeah." He paused. "Listen, Leia, if it means all that much to you, why don't we just postpone the ceremony until he gets back?"
She sighed. "I can't. Mon Mothma's coming, and I—"
Han slid off the desk and stared at her. "Mon Mothma's coming to our wedding?"
Leia looked at him blankly. "Well, yes. I just got her reply and—"
Han tried very hard not to lose his patience. "Leia," he said slowly, "just how many people are coming to this thing?"
"Only about fifty or so. Why?"
The Corellian exploded. "Only fifty? I thought you said this was going to be a small ceremony!"
"It is a small ceremony. There are so many more people I should have invited and didn't."
Han rubbed his eyes tiredly. His idea of a small ceremony had been himself, Leia, Chewbacca, Luke, and maybe Lando. But five or fifty, what difference did it make? He supposed he could suffer through it for one day.
He sighed and reached into his pocket. "By the way, I brought you your wedding present."
"Han!" she exclaimed, surprised. Then a delighted smile broke her face. "I didn't think you would!"
"Just a little something that's been in the family for a while," he said. "My grandmother passed it on to me after my mother died."
"Your grandmother?"
"Don't act so shocked. Even Corellians are cursed with grandmothers."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound flippant. It's just that...you never mentioned you had any relatives."
"Yeah, well, we had a bit of a falling out the last time I saw her." Actually, as Han remembered, they'd had a bit of a falling out every time he saw her.
"Is she still alive?"
"Far as I know. It's been a few years."
Leia stood up excitedly. "Why don't we invite her to our wedding? If I had known, I would have done it already."
"I don't think so, Leia. You've already got your guest list made up, and with so many people already—"
"Don't be silly! There's always room for one more."
The Corellian looked directly into his future wife's eyes. "The truth is, Leia, I don't want that crotchety old hag at my wedding."
"But, Han, we really should—"
He interrupted. "Aren't you going to open that thing?" He wanted to get the topic away from grandmothers and weddings and such.
The Princess opened the box. Han had transferred the pendant to another box, and kept the silver ivory-edged box for himself. Once he knew the secret, the box was sort of...neat. A lot more interesting than the pendant He didn't think Leia would mind if he kept that. "Oh, Han—" she breathed. "It's lovely."
She held the necklace up to the light. "Do you know what this is?"
"From the way it shines, I'd say the metal looks like pure boran. Worth a pretty penny, if it is. I could have it analyzed, if you want."
The Princess shook her head. "No, I mean, do you know what it is?"
"It's a necklace." Any idiot could see that.
Leia shook her head. "Not just a necklace. It's a family crest. I used to have one like it, but it was lost on Alderaan. Look, here's the shield. The family name should be written on the back." She took the pendant out of the box to examine the reverse side. "Yes, see? 'Cressola.' And the homeworld is Peru—"
She stopped suddenly and looked at Han with widening eyes. "Han, this crest belonged to the Baron Raynor Cressola, of Peruvis."
"Well, if you want to give it back, be my guest. But personally, I think you'd be a fool."
"I couldn't give it back, even if I wanted to. Raynor Cressola is dead. He and his family were slaughtered when the Empire took over their world. It was one of the first planets to be annexed. Palpatine had all the Peruvian nobles killed in an effort to wipe out the opposition.
"Great," Han said. "So now you can keep it without having to worry about your conscience."
"No, Han, you don't understand. Where did your mother get this?"
The Corellian looked at her. "How should I know?"
"You know...you never told me about your parents. Who were they?"
Han Solo's eyes narrowed. What kind of silly romantic notion was Leia getting into her head?
"What about your parents?" she pressed.
With infinite patience, which Han made sure was laid on with a trowel, he sat down to explain. "Leia, my father was probably a pirate, just like me. I never knew him. He took off before I was born. Corellians are not known for their sense of responsibility. My mother's reputation was dubious at best. She died in an aerocar crash when I was three or four. My grandmother raised me after that, until I ran away from home at the age of fifteen. That's it. That's the whole story."
"There was a rumor," Leia said slowly, "that Cressola's youngest son escaped the slaughter with the help of a servant. His name was P— something. He would only have been a few years old at the time..."
"Leia!" Han exclaimed in exhasperation. "You're as bad as my senile grandmother. Look, why don't you come with me to the Falcon. I've got a copy of my birth papers there, somewhere."
"Documents can be forged," Leia said thoughtfully.
Han stared at her for a moment. Then he said, "Forget it, Leia. What you've got there is probably what some stormtrooper palmed and sold later. Things like that do happen, you know. I wouldn't put too much stock in those other rumors, if I were you. I may have only been two when my mother died, but I remember her very well. She was an ordinary working-class woman, not a noblewoman. I'm afraid you're marrying a bastard, not a baron."
"But the stories say—"
"Hang the stories! Look, even if this...Cressola person did survive, he ain't me. My mother probably found that in a pawn shop somewhere."
Leia looked at him doubtfully. It was just a rumor, after all, but was it merely coincidence that Han was about the right age, the right coloring, and orphaned at about the right time? And what would he be doing with the family crest from the last baron of Hanaar, unless...?
"Look, I gotta go," Han said. "Chewie's waiting for me so we can test out the new sensor dish on the Falcon. I'll drop by later, maybe."
As she watched him leave, Leia wondered what had suddenly gotten into him.
Han pulled off the panel to get to the wiring underneath. "So if we by-pass the servo-systems and link up directly with the thermo-coupler, we should be able to—" He stopped as he looked behind the panel and saw something that didn't belong there.
Chewbacca woofed.
Han reached for the cube and pulled it out. It was silverish, only about three inches square on each side, with tiny symbols engraved on an inch-wide ivory-like band that wrapped around the box on four sides. "I forgot I stashed that there," he said.
"Mmmphrrr?" Chewbacca asked.
"No, no. You remember that time when the Imperials boarded us in the Vernati system? I thought they might be disappointed over not getting any cargo and start looking for other things to loot."
"Bruwwwl rrrmph."
Han smiled and shook his head. "I still don't know. I kept meaning to take it to an art dealer to see if I could find out anything. I figure it's gotta be worth something, though. Otherwise, why would my old lady have saved it for me?" He ran his fingers along the figures on the band. "At the very least, maybe they could melt the metal down and—" He stopped again, and frowned. There was something familiar about one of the figures. He studied it for a moment, then thrust the cube at Chewbacca. "Wait a minute," he said, and rushed aft, back towards his cabin.
He went to the full-length mirror, pulled it open on the non-hinged side, then pulled out a drawer from the dresser located behind it. He rummaged through the shirts for a second, and came out with a wide, flat case. The case had once held several military medals, but Han preferred not to think too much about that. He sat down on the bed with the case, touched the releases that flipped the lid open, then searched through the various memorabilia until he found a ring. It was something his mother had worn when she was alive, and which he had inherited from her—like the cube. He left the case on the bed and rushed forward again.
"I don't know why I never saw this before," he said, taking the cube back from Chewbacca. He turned the box around until he found the place in the band that he had noticed earlier. It was an indentation between two of the carved symbols, and Han studied it again. The negative concave image on the band of the cube matched the positive convex design on the ring's carved stone exactly. Han looked at Chewbacca, shrugged, then fit the ring to the space in the cube.
There was a click as the bottom of the cube swung open and something fell to the floor. Han grinned and picked it up. "Well, I'll be damned," he said.
Chewbacca made a growling noise. Han looked at him in surprise, then considered the suggestion.
"You know," he said, "that's not a bad idea. It would certainly save me the trouble of looking for something to buy..."
.
.
.
Leia Organa sat at her desk, staring absently at the computer tape displayed in front of her. The intercom beeped softly, and she reached over to touch the button. C-3P0's mechanically inflected voice filled the otherwise silent office. "Mistress Leia, Captain Solo would like to—no, wait! Captain Solo, I haven't intro—"
Leia smiled to herself. Han always ignored the standard protocol, despite Threepio's best efforts. Someday, she would teach him the proper etiquette, she decided.
The door slid open and Han sailed through it, with Threepio clanking along behind. "Captain Solo, it's really quite improper to—"
"It's all right, Threepio," Leia said, waving him off.
The protocol 'droid made a noise as he left the room to return to his other duties. Han wasn't sure whether he was expressing disapproval, or if he needed an oil bath.
"How ya doin', Sweetheart?" Han asked breezily. Usually it irked her to be called 'sweetheart,' but today she didn't seem to notice. Han noticed that she didn't notice, though. He walked behind her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, Leia, don't worry. Things will turn out."
"Luke's no traitor, Han," the Princess said quietly.
"You think I don't know that? Huh?" Solo perched himself casually on a corner of her desk. "He's my friend, too, you know."
"I know. I just wish...he were here now, and this whole thing with Wedge never happened."
"Yeah." He paused. "Listen, Leia, if it means all that much to you, why don't we just postpone the ceremony until he gets back?"
She sighed. "I can't. Mon Mothma's coming, and I—"
Han slid off the desk and stared at her. "Mon Mothma's coming to our wedding?"
Leia looked at him blankly. "Well, yes. I just got her reply and—"
Han tried very hard not to lose his patience. "Leia," he said slowly, "just how many people are coming to this thing?"
"Only about fifty or so. Why?"
The Corellian exploded. "Only fifty? I thought you said this was going to be a small ceremony!"
"It is a small ceremony. There are so many more people I should have invited and didn't."
Han rubbed his eyes tiredly. His idea of a small ceremony had been himself, Leia, Chewbacca, Luke, and maybe Lando. But five or fifty, what difference did it make? He supposed he could suffer through it for one day.
He sighed and reached into his pocket. "By the way, I brought you your wedding present."
"Han!" she exclaimed, surprised. Then a delighted smile broke her face. "I didn't think you would!"
"Just a little something that's been in the family for a while," he said. "My grandmother passed it on to me after my mother died."
"Your grandmother?"
"Don't act so shocked. Even Corellians are cursed with grandmothers."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound flippant. It's just that...you never mentioned you had any relatives."
"Yeah, well, we had a bit of a falling out the last time I saw her." Actually, as Han remembered, they'd had a bit of a falling out every time he saw her.
"Is she still alive?"
"Far as I know. It's been a few years."
Leia stood up excitedly. "Why don't we invite her to our wedding? If I had known, I would have done it already."
"I don't think so, Leia. You've already got your guest list made up, and with so many people already—"
"Don't be silly! There's always room for one more."
The Corellian looked directly into his future wife's eyes. "The truth is, Leia, I don't want that crotchety old hag at my wedding."
"But, Han, we really should—"
He interrupted. "Aren't you going to open that thing?" He wanted to get the topic away from grandmothers and weddings and such.
The Princess opened the box. Han had transferred the pendant to another box, and kept the silver ivory-edged box for himself. Once he knew the secret, the box was sort of...neat. A lot more interesting than the pendant He didn't think Leia would mind if he kept that. "Oh, Han—" she breathed. "It's lovely."
She held the necklace up to the light. "Do you know what this is?"
"From the way it shines, I'd say the metal looks like pure boran. Worth a pretty penny, if it is. I could have it analyzed, if you want."
The Princess shook her head. "No, I mean, do you know what it is?"
"It's a necklace." Any idiot could see that.
Leia shook her head. "Not just a necklace. It's a family crest. I used to have one like it, but it was lost on Alderaan. Look, here's the shield. The family name should be written on the back." She took the pendant out of the box to examine the reverse side. "Yes, see? 'Cressola.' And the homeworld is Peru—"
She stopped suddenly and looked at Han with widening eyes. "Han, this crest belonged to the Baron Raynor Cressola, of Peruvis."
"Well, if you want to give it back, be my guest. But personally, I think you'd be a fool."
"I couldn't give it back, even if I wanted to. Raynor Cressola is dead. He and his family were slaughtered when the Empire took over their world. It was one of the first planets to be annexed. Palpatine had all the Peruvian nobles killed in an effort to wipe out the opposition.
"Great," Han said. "So now you can keep it without having to worry about your conscience."
"No, Han, you don't understand. Where did your mother get this?"
The Corellian looked at her. "How should I know?"
"You know...you never told me about your parents. Who were they?"
Han Solo's eyes narrowed. What kind of silly romantic notion was Leia getting into her head?
"What about your parents?" she pressed.
With infinite patience, which Han made sure was laid on with a trowel, he sat down to explain. "Leia, my father was probably a pirate, just like me. I never knew him. He took off before I was born. Corellians are not known for their sense of responsibility. My mother's reputation was dubious at best. She died in an aerocar crash when I was three or four. My grandmother raised me after that, until I ran away from home at the age of fifteen. That's it. That's the whole story."
"There was a rumor," Leia said slowly, "that Cressola's youngest son escaped the slaughter with the help of a servant. His name was P— something. He would only have been a few years old at the time..."
"Leia!" Han exclaimed in exhasperation. "You're as bad as my senile grandmother. Look, why don't you come with me to the Falcon. I've got a copy of my birth papers there, somewhere."
"Documents can be forged," Leia said thoughtfully.
Han stared at her for a moment. Then he said, "Forget it, Leia. What you've got there is probably what some stormtrooper palmed and sold later. Things like that do happen, you know. I wouldn't put too much stock in those other rumors, if I were you. I may have only been two when my mother died, but I remember her very well. She was an ordinary working-class woman, not a noblewoman. I'm afraid you're marrying a bastard, not a baron."
"But the stories say—"
"Hang the stories! Look, even if this...Cressola person did survive, he ain't me. My mother probably found that in a pawn shop somewhere."
Leia looked at him doubtfully. It was just a rumor, after all, but was it merely coincidence that Han was about the right age, the right coloring, and orphaned at about the right time? And what would he be doing with the family crest from the last baron of Hanaar, unless...?
"Look, I gotta go," Han said. "Chewie's waiting for me so we can test out the new sensor dish on the Falcon. I'll drop by later, maybe."
As she watched him leave, Leia wondered what had suddenly gotten into him.
-----
Chapter Five
Luke deliberately slowed his pace so that Briande could keep up with him. Even so, she was lagging way behind, and close to exhaustion. They came to a steep uphill grade. Luke turned back to give her a hand, but she waved him off. She staggered a few more steps, then came to a stop, holding onto a tree for support. She gasped hungrily for air and looked at him.
Luke frowned, studying her. She had come further than he had on his first try at the marathon path, but she had already received some training in the Force. Considering the amount of time she had spent in training—nearly two years, by her answers to his questions, the time when Brenna Brellis first came into power—he had expected her to do a lot better.
"Use the Force," Luke urged. "Feel the life-energy flow around you."
"I can't feel it," she said. "Not now. I'm sorry."
"You are a sensitive," the Jedi said, frowning.
"Yes—" She fought to control her breathing. "Sometimes...I can feel it. But I can't feel anything now..."
Luke sensed...something. Suppression? Regression? Something...he wasn't sure what. But the Force was there. The Force was always there. It was just a matter of being aware. Of opening yourself to it. He shook his head slowly. He couldn't teach her to control the Force until she could feel it.
"All right," he said finally. "Let's try something else. Sit down and close your eyes. Relax. Try to open yourself to the Force."
Briande sat down, staring at him with an unreadable expression.
"Close your eyes," Luke repeated.
She did as he instructed.
Luke waited until the worst of her heavy breathing subsided. "Now," the Jedi went on in a soothing tone, "listen to the sounds around you. Hear them, but don't interfere. Be passive. Feel the life around you, the movement, but don't try to influence it. It's all a part of you, and you of it. Try to feel yourself as a part of it."
Luke waited. Outwardly, Briande's face remained impassive. But internally, he could sense a struggle. Conflicting impulses. He couldn't see what those impulses were.
"What do you hear?" he asked her.
"I hear your voice."
"Nothing more?"
"No."
Luke suppressed his disappointment. "What do you feel?"
"Nothing," she said again.
There was something there, though. Luke could sense it even if Briande herself was not aware of it. But he couldn't say what.
"I'm sorry, Master."
"No," Luke said. Here was another lesson Briande needed to learn. "Don't call me that. You are your own Master, Briande."
Luke had called his own teacher 'Master,' but it had been a title more out of courtesy than anything else, acknowledging Yoda's mastery over the Force. Yoda had never been Luke's master. The tiny Jedi had been his instructor, advisor, and even his friend, but Luke had always exercised his own free will.
Mastery implied control over another person, slavery. Luke had never been anyone's slave, didn't want to be anyone's master. He wasn't even a Master of the Force yet.
"What do you want me to call you, then?" Briande asked.
"'Luke' will do," he replied. He took a breath, then said, "Beware of anger, fear, and aggression, Briande. If you're not careful, they can become your Master. Once you start down the Dark path, they can dominate your destiny forever. Remember that."
Her eyes showed no comprehension, but she nodded anyway.
Luke sighed, wondering how to get across what he wanted to say. "Briande, the Dark side is quicker, easier, and more seductive than the good. I know. I've felt it. We all do. But it can be controlled. That's the important thing."
"You've felt the Dark side?"
"Yes."
"Do you feel it now?"
"Yes. But I've learned to conquer it. You must learn how to do that, too."
Briande shook her head. "I don't feel it, Luke. I don't want to feel it, either."
"You can't ignore it, Briande, and you can't avoid it. A Jedi must confront the Dark side, and then go beyond it."
"A Jedi can also be turned by it. You of all people should know that."
Skywalker sat down and ran a hand through his hair. So far, his first lesson was far from successful. He wished Yoda were here. The old teacher had truly been a teacher. He would have known what to do.
"Why don't you—" Luke nodded towards a small trail that led off from the right. "Why don't you go cool off. There's a lake down at the bottom of the hill there."
He needed time to think, to collect his thoughts and figure out what the next step was. Looking back, he saw that Yoda's lessons for him had focused mainly on control. Tapping into the Force, once he knew how, had always been relatively easy. It was the control that he had lacked. Briande, on the other hand, lacked even the ability to tap into it.
Briande looked at him for a second, then stood up and headed down the path.
Luke watched until she disappeared, and then gazed around at the tangled trees surrounding him. It seemed like a long time ago that he'd left Dagobah, though in reality it had only been a few short months since he'd last seen its life-filled swamps. This place was like a home to him, except that the people who had made it a home were all gone now.
"Ben—" he said softly. "I wish you were here..."
But only the whisper of a breeze answered him. And yet, in that whisper was the touch of Kenobi's gentle presence. There was everything here. This place contained the universe in miniature. There was peace here, and war. Death and survival. Mortality and eternal life. And for a Jedi, there was sanctuary and time for reflection.
Just then, however, a sudden scream broke the stillness of the jungle.
Grabbing his lightsaber with one hand, Luke jumped to his feet and ran towards the direction of the sound. He reached the edge of the bog lake and turned quickly in all directions to scan the dark murkiness of the water. He shouted her name.
"Briande!"
There was no answer. He tried again. "Briande!"
Suddenly a gurgle came from the lake, and Luke spun around just in time to see the black shape of a giant underwater creature skim the surface. Not knowing what to expect, Luke splashed into the water to his knees.
As he entered deeper water, the bottom suddenly dropped off and he had to tread to stay afloat—not an entirely comfortable position for someone who was raised on a desert world.
"Briande, where are you!" he shouted.
Even before his words could echo into the jungle, he saw a shaft of light under the water that could only have been from a lightsaber beam.
Carefully avoiding the range of the deadly energy weapon, Luke ignited his own laser sword and dove underneath the surface. Luke was sorry that he had never really learned to swim well—there had been little occasion for that sort of thing on Tatooine—but at least Yoda had taught him enough to be able to maneuver under the water.
Finally he saw her. She was struggling vainly against a tentacle that was wrapped around her. How long had it been since she had screamed? She had to be running out of air by now.
Luke tried to send a telepathic message to the creature, but the thing was in a blood-frenzy. He had no choice but to damage it.
Without another instant's hesitation, he plunged straight for the trunk of the tentacle and, gripping his lightsaber hilt in firm determination, sliced quickly through the snake-like limb, cutting it neatly in half.
The creature gave a loud underwater roar. It started to come after Luke with two more sets of tentacles, then thought the better of it when the Jedi waved his glowing energy weapon at them menacingly. It backed off to where the light from Luke's saber could no longer penetrate the murky waters.
Luke turned around in the water and saw that Briande was still fighting with the tentacle. Despite the fact that it had been completely severed from the creature's body, the muscle reflexes still squeezed it into a tight coil around her. Her lightsaber being useless at such close quarters, Luke was glad she had retained enough presence of mind to deactivate it and attach it back on her belt.
Luke swam over to her and tried to work his fingers under the thick, massive ring that surrounded her. Together, they managed to pry it loose, and Briande kicked desperately for the surface. Luke followed her up, anxious for a gulp of air himself.
As soon as Briande's head broke the water, she coughed and sputtered and choked as she tried to breathe. Luke quickly replenished his own lungs, then grabbed Briande's undershirt and pulled her to where the water was shallow enough to stand.
She recovered quickly, which surprised Luke no less than the surge of energy he now felt moving through the Force. She was clearly frightened now, and angry. She turned back, hand moving to her lightsaber, to finish off the lake-monster while she had the chance.
"No," Luke told her. "Leave it be."
She seemed not to hear him, and took a step into deeper water.
Luke grabbed her arm to stop her. "No!" he repeated.
Briande stopped, startled, and then nodded. Luke felt her rage being pushed back. The first rule for a Jedi, above all else, was to respect life. Sometimes killing was necessary, but only for defense, and only as a last resort.
As Briande buried her anger, Luke felt the stirring in the Force ebb. She weakened visibly, as well. "Sorry," she said, turning slightly away as if embarrassed to have been caught revealing so much emotion. Then she turned to Luke again, and her face was impassive as usual.
Luke was confused. It was almost as if she were two separate people: one strong with emotion and strong with the Force, the other stoic and insensitive.
It made no sense.
For the moment, Luke pushed the questions out of his head. He extended a hand to help Briande to the shore. She hesitated, then accepted his support and waded with him towards the bank, letting go of his hand once they were out of the water.
"By the way," Skywalker said with a slight smile, "I think I should warn you that not all of the inhabitants of Dagobah are friendly."
"Thanks," Briande said drily, shaking the water out of her hair.
Luke took a moment to search through the Force. He found the lake creature hiding in a dark corner of the water, nursing its damaged limb. It was in pain, but was not nearly so unreachable as it had been before. The Jedi concentrated momentarily. Luke's link with it was very tenuous, but the thing had been there a long time, and Luke was not its first contact with an outside mind. "It won't bother you again," he said.
"Thanks," she said again.
Skywalker looked at her, suddenly twice as puzzled. He felt a peculiar tingling, so faint he could almost not be sure it was there. It was not Briande's presence he felt, but something cold. It reminded him of Palpatine, in a way, though it was a sensation completely new to him. Almost like a mirror-image of Briande, but distorted by ripples and bendings.
Inexplicably, Luke found his gaze being drawn to Briande's hand. She had wrapped it around herself because, Luke had assumed, the water from the lake had been fairly cold. But Briande was not shivering.
As Luke watched, the little finger on Briande's hand began to twitch minutely. His gaze traveled to her face, but she continued staring straight ahead. She seemed not to notice that anything was wrong.
Luke looked back down at her hand. The finger twitched again, and the cold tingle grew almost imperceptibly stronger.
Luke deliberately slowed his pace so that Briande could keep up with him. Even so, she was lagging way behind, and close to exhaustion. They came to a steep uphill grade. Luke turned back to give her a hand, but she waved him off. She staggered a few more steps, then came to a stop, holding onto a tree for support. She gasped hungrily for air and looked at him.
Luke frowned, studying her. She had come further than he had on his first try at the marathon path, but she had already received some training in the Force. Considering the amount of time she had spent in training—nearly two years, by her answers to his questions, the time when Brenna Brellis first came into power—he had expected her to do a lot better.
"Use the Force," Luke urged. "Feel the life-energy flow around you."
"I can't feel it," she said. "Not now. I'm sorry."
"You are a sensitive," the Jedi said, frowning.
"Yes—" She fought to control her breathing. "Sometimes...I can feel it. But I can't feel anything now..."
Luke sensed...something. Suppression? Regression? Something...he wasn't sure what. But the Force was there. The Force was always there. It was just a matter of being aware. Of opening yourself to it. He shook his head slowly. He couldn't teach her to control the Force until she could feel it.
"All right," he said finally. "Let's try something else. Sit down and close your eyes. Relax. Try to open yourself to the Force."
Briande sat down, staring at him with an unreadable expression.
"Close your eyes," Luke repeated.
She did as he instructed.
Luke waited until the worst of her heavy breathing subsided. "Now," the Jedi went on in a soothing tone, "listen to the sounds around you. Hear them, but don't interfere. Be passive. Feel the life around you, the movement, but don't try to influence it. It's all a part of you, and you of it. Try to feel yourself as a part of it."
Luke waited. Outwardly, Briande's face remained impassive. But internally, he could sense a struggle. Conflicting impulses. He couldn't see what those impulses were.
"What do you hear?" he asked her.
"I hear your voice."
"Nothing more?"
"No."
Luke suppressed his disappointment. "What do you feel?"
"Nothing," she said again.
There was something there, though. Luke could sense it even if Briande herself was not aware of it. But he couldn't say what.
"I'm sorry, Master."
"No," Luke said. Here was another lesson Briande needed to learn. "Don't call me that. You are your own Master, Briande."
Luke had called his own teacher 'Master,' but it had been a title more out of courtesy than anything else, acknowledging Yoda's mastery over the Force. Yoda had never been Luke's master. The tiny Jedi had been his instructor, advisor, and even his friend, but Luke had always exercised his own free will.
Mastery implied control over another person, slavery. Luke had never been anyone's slave, didn't want to be anyone's master. He wasn't even a Master of the Force yet.
"What do you want me to call you, then?" Briande asked.
"'Luke' will do," he replied. He took a breath, then said, "Beware of anger, fear, and aggression, Briande. If you're not careful, they can become your Master. Once you start down the Dark path, they can dominate your destiny forever. Remember that."
Her eyes showed no comprehension, but she nodded anyway.
Luke sighed, wondering how to get across what he wanted to say. "Briande, the Dark side is quicker, easier, and more seductive than the good. I know. I've felt it. We all do. But it can be controlled. That's the important thing."
"You've felt the Dark side?"
"Yes."
"Do you feel it now?"
"Yes. But I've learned to conquer it. You must learn how to do that, too."
Briande shook her head. "I don't feel it, Luke. I don't want to feel it, either."
"You can't ignore it, Briande, and you can't avoid it. A Jedi must confront the Dark side, and then go beyond it."
"A Jedi can also be turned by it. You of all people should know that."
Skywalker sat down and ran a hand through his hair. So far, his first lesson was far from successful. He wished Yoda were here. The old teacher had truly been a teacher. He would have known what to do.
"Why don't you—" Luke nodded towards a small trail that led off from the right. "Why don't you go cool off. There's a lake down at the bottom of the hill there."
He needed time to think, to collect his thoughts and figure out what the next step was. Looking back, he saw that Yoda's lessons for him had focused mainly on control. Tapping into the Force, once he knew how, had always been relatively easy. It was the control that he had lacked. Briande, on the other hand, lacked even the ability to tap into it.
Briande looked at him for a second, then stood up and headed down the path.
Luke watched until she disappeared, and then gazed around at the tangled trees surrounding him. It seemed like a long time ago that he'd left Dagobah, though in reality it had only been a few short months since he'd last seen its life-filled swamps. This place was like a home to him, except that the people who had made it a home were all gone now.
"Ben—" he said softly. "I wish you were here..."
But only the whisper of a breeze answered him. And yet, in that whisper was the touch of Kenobi's gentle presence. There was everything here. This place contained the universe in miniature. There was peace here, and war. Death and survival. Mortality and eternal life. And for a Jedi, there was sanctuary and time for reflection.
Just then, however, a sudden scream broke the stillness of the jungle.
Grabbing his lightsaber with one hand, Luke jumped to his feet and ran towards the direction of the sound. He reached the edge of the bog lake and turned quickly in all directions to scan the dark murkiness of the water. He shouted her name.
"Briande!"
There was no answer. He tried again. "Briande!"
Suddenly a gurgle came from the lake, and Luke spun around just in time to see the black shape of a giant underwater creature skim the surface. Not knowing what to expect, Luke splashed into the water to his knees.
As he entered deeper water, the bottom suddenly dropped off and he had to tread to stay afloat—not an entirely comfortable position for someone who was raised on a desert world.
"Briande, where are you!" he shouted.
Even before his words could echo into the jungle, he saw a shaft of light under the water that could only have been from a lightsaber beam.
Carefully avoiding the range of the deadly energy weapon, Luke ignited his own laser sword and dove underneath the surface. Luke was sorry that he had never really learned to swim well—there had been little occasion for that sort of thing on Tatooine—but at least Yoda had taught him enough to be able to maneuver under the water.
Finally he saw her. She was struggling vainly against a tentacle that was wrapped around her. How long had it been since she had screamed? She had to be running out of air by now.
Luke tried to send a telepathic message to the creature, but the thing was in a blood-frenzy. He had no choice but to damage it.
Without another instant's hesitation, he plunged straight for the trunk of the tentacle and, gripping his lightsaber hilt in firm determination, sliced quickly through the snake-like limb, cutting it neatly in half.
The creature gave a loud underwater roar. It started to come after Luke with two more sets of tentacles, then thought the better of it when the Jedi waved his glowing energy weapon at them menacingly. It backed off to where the light from Luke's saber could no longer penetrate the murky waters.
Luke turned around in the water and saw that Briande was still fighting with the tentacle. Despite the fact that it had been completely severed from the creature's body, the muscle reflexes still squeezed it into a tight coil around her. Her lightsaber being useless at such close quarters, Luke was glad she had retained enough presence of mind to deactivate it and attach it back on her belt.
Luke swam over to her and tried to work his fingers under the thick, massive ring that surrounded her. Together, they managed to pry it loose, and Briande kicked desperately for the surface. Luke followed her up, anxious for a gulp of air himself.
As soon as Briande's head broke the water, she coughed and sputtered and choked as she tried to breathe. Luke quickly replenished his own lungs, then grabbed Briande's undershirt and pulled her to where the water was shallow enough to stand.
She recovered quickly, which surprised Luke no less than the surge of energy he now felt moving through the Force. She was clearly frightened now, and angry. She turned back, hand moving to her lightsaber, to finish off the lake-monster while she had the chance.
"No," Luke told her. "Leave it be."
She seemed not to hear him, and took a step into deeper water.
Luke grabbed her arm to stop her. "No!" he repeated.
Briande stopped, startled, and then nodded. Luke felt her rage being pushed back. The first rule for a Jedi, above all else, was to respect life. Sometimes killing was necessary, but only for defense, and only as a last resort.
As Briande buried her anger, Luke felt the stirring in the Force ebb. She weakened visibly, as well. "Sorry," she said, turning slightly away as if embarrassed to have been caught revealing so much emotion. Then she turned to Luke again, and her face was impassive as usual.
Luke was confused. It was almost as if she were two separate people: one strong with emotion and strong with the Force, the other stoic and insensitive.
It made no sense.
For the moment, Luke pushed the questions out of his head. He extended a hand to help Briande to the shore. She hesitated, then accepted his support and waded with him towards the bank, letting go of his hand once they were out of the water.
"By the way," Skywalker said with a slight smile, "I think I should warn you that not all of the inhabitants of Dagobah are friendly."
"Thanks," Briande said drily, shaking the water out of her hair.
Luke took a moment to search through the Force. He found the lake creature hiding in a dark corner of the water, nursing its damaged limb. It was in pain, but was not nearly so unreachable as it had been before. The Jedi concentrated momentarily. Luke's link with it was very tenuous, but the thing had been there a long time, and Luke was not its first contact with an outside mind. "It won't bother you again," he said.
"Thanks," she said again.
Skywalker looked at her, suddenly twice as puzzled. He felt a peculiar tingling, so faint he could almost not be sure it was there. It was not Briande's presence he felt, but something cold. It reminded him of Palpatine, in a way, though it was a sensation completely new to him. Almost like a mirror-image of Briande, but distorted by ripples and bendings.
Inexplicably, Luke found his gaze being drawn to Briande's hand. She had wrapped it around herself because, Luke had assumed, the water from the lake had been fairly cold. But Briande was not shivering.
As Luke watched, the little finger on Briande's hand began to twitch minutely. His gaze traveled to her face, but she continued staring straight ahead. She seemed not to notice that anything was wrong.
Luke looked back down at her hand. The finger twitched again, and the cold tingle grew almost imperceptibly stronger.
-----
Chapter Six
It had been nearly eight years—eight standard years, that was, more like ten Corellian years—since Han had last set foot on the planet of his origins. He had sworn he would never come back here, and now look what he was doing.
Don't I ever learn? he asked himself.
Apparently not, his other half answered.
So here he was, just out of hyperspace, waiting for clearance for planetfall. And it was taking a hell of a long time, too. For half an instant, he considered just dropping into the atmosphere without clearance, but this was Corellia. One didn't just "drop in" unannounced.
Chewbacca barked with impatient concern.
"Yeah, I know." Han replied.
"What did he say?" Leia asked.
"Nothing. Why don't you go strap yourself in the back. We should get clearance any minute now." Actually, he wanted to talk to Chewbacca alone. Leia wasn't a half-bad navigator when given the chance, but there were times when she definitely got in the way.
Fortunately, Leia didn't protest. She left Han to his ship and found herself a comfortable chair in the back.
"Brrrwl. Arnnww," the Wookiee said softly when she had gone.
"How in the Hell should I know?" Han asked. "They never said anything about forbidding me to come back. 'Course, I didn't stay around long enough to find out, either..."
Chewie shook his head. "Wfflnraww abrawgnnarr."
"Well at least I didn't get thrown out for speaking against the local gods. You're not getting homesick on me, are you, Pal?"
Chewbacca looked over at his partner and woofed.
Solo grinned. "Well, I guess I can't argue with that. Lay in a course for Pander-what's-it's-name. If they don't answer by the time you get it up, we're gonna turn this bucket around. I didn't want to come here anyway."
Just then, Han's headset came to life with the voice of the ground-controller Han had spoken with before. The youthful quality of the voice made Han sure he was talking with a greenhorn, but that was still no excuse for holding things up for so long.
"Millenium Falcon, you've been given clearance for planetfall over sector twelve, airbase twelve, and landing on platform eighteen. Over."
"Took you long enough. What'd you do, hang your laundry out and wait for it to dry?"
"Sorry for the delay, sir. I've been instructed to welcome you back to Corellia, Captain Solo. Please do not veer from your designated course."
A "welcome" and a "do not veer from your designated course" in the same breath. Han raised an eyebrow at that.
"Your escort should be with you momentarily," the ground controller continued.
Escort? Something weird was going on, and Han didn't like the looks of it. "Chewie, engage main thrusters. We're getting out of here."
But as Han started to nose the ship up to veer away from the planet, the ship gave a shudder, as if it had been hit by a laser blast. Han glanced at the scanner, and sucked in his breath. Just coming into range were at least a dozen Corellian fighters, all manned, he knew, by top-notch Corellian pilots.
The blast had been a warning shot. If it had been for real, the ship and all its crew would have been space-dust by now. They had caught him completely off-guard, without any shields up for protection. Escape was extremely unlikely. They couldn't jump into hyperspace this deep in the system, and the Falcon, as fast as she was, couldn't outrun that many Corellian fighters at this close range.
How could I have been so stupid? Han asked himself. He should have known something was up. But Why? The reason eluded him.
He had, however, never been one to dwell on questions, especially at a time like this. He preferred actions.
Leia came running breathlessly from the main part of the ship. "What was that?" she asked.
"Strap yourself in," Han ordered. "This may get a little rough."
Leia slid into the navigator's chair and buckled her straps. Her expression was full of questions, probably the same ones Han had, but he didn't have time for conversations right now.
"Here's where the fun begins!" Han declared, pushing the throttle forward and setting the ship into a spin. Lousy odds had never deterred him before.
Leia caught her breath as the planet rushed up at them with dizzying speed. She had hoped that this sort of thing would be over when the war was over.
It was not a welcome experience.
Not to her, anyway.
Han, on the other hand, was almost smiling. "Charge up the guns, Chewie. We'll give 'em a run for their money."
The Wookie co-pilot barked.
"Half-power for now," Solo replied, "but full-power on standby. As long as they don't hurt us, I'll be gentle. But Deities help 'em if they start getting rough. How are those shields holding up?" He knew Chewbacca had switched them on at the first sign of trouble.
Chewbacca answered, and Han gave a satisfied nod. "Okay then, go climb into the bottom turret. We're gonna start smokin' in about thirty seconds."
With a speed that didn't seem possible for such a great lumbering bulk, Chewbacca disentangled himself from the co-pilot's chair and rushed aft to the keel-side gun turret. Leia decided to risk asking Han for information.
"What's going on?" she said.
Han glanced backwards at her. "If I knew, I wouldn't be askin' that myself."
Before Leia could inquire further into the cryptic reply, Han looped the ship downward and doubled back the way they had come, only flying upside down now. "Here they come, Chewie!"
There was a short growl over the internal speaker for a reply.
Someone, apparently sensing what Han was about to do, tried to reach the Falcon on the communication channel. "Millenium Falcon, this is escort commander. Our orders are to see you safely down to planetside. If you cooperate, no one will be hurt. Please acknowledge, over."
"Like Hell," Solo muttered. Aloud to the transmitter pickup he said, "Sorry, fellas. I just changed my vacation plans. Maybe next year. And be advised that I have a woman on board." He ripped the headset off and thrust it backwards at Leia. "Say something," he said.
"Uh, hello," Leia said.
Han grinned, switched the mode back to ship's intercom, and pulled the headset back on. He doubted whether Leia's presence would make any difference to the more experienced pilots, but it might make a cadet or two hesitate, and every little bit helped.
"This one's for the money, Chewie!" he said. "Double stakes!"
Chewbacca hooted and lined up one of the slick, stream-lined Corellian fighters in his sights. Already the ships were beginning to spin away, and the pulsating bolts from Chewie's gun exploded harmlessly to one side of the one he was aiming at. The Wookie howled in frustration.
But the fighter formation was beginning to break up, and that was all Han wanted. He dove into what had been the center of the formation and pulled up in a steep, high-g climb that would have made the Falcon's crew black out if the ship's gravity compensators had not been functioning.
"Let's see 'em follow us through that!" Han said smugly. It wasn't much of a headstart, but maybe they could reach the edge of the system before the fighters caught up with them again, and the coordinates were already set for the hyperspace jump.
But in the upper atmosphere, Han found about as many new fighters as he had just left.
Whoever had put this 'escort' together was good. And apparently he knew just knew how good Han was.
The fighters quickly closed in around the Falcon, trapping her. Chewbacca managed to hit a few of the ships with bright flashes of half-power warning shots. The ships did not immediately return fire, but they closed their net tighter, forcing Han back towards the planet's surface.
"Full power, Chewie!" Han said. "I'm tired of playing games."
But once again, his actions had been anticipated. "Millenium Falcon, the next shot you fire will be your last. We'll blow up your gun turrets as well as whoever's manning them."
And they could, Han knew. Chewbacca might be able to pick off one or two, but in the end, they would lose. He spoke into the intercom pickup. "Belay that, Chewie. Get back up here. Looks like we're goin' down."
Meanwhile, the first batch of fighters had regrouped and were now taking up positions with the second group around the Falcon. Han's scope registered a count of twenty-six ships total. Whoever wanted him, wanted him bad.
"What's going on?" Leia asked tightly, for the second time. "Han, if you've violated some law, I've still got diplomatic immunity. It should be extended to you, also."
Han's mouth was set in a firm line. "Your 'diplomatic immunity' doesn't hold water on Corellia. I don't even know what complaint they've conjured up against me this time. They already court-martialed me. You'd think they'd be happy enough with that."
"Court-martialed?"
"Your hubby's just full of surprises, Sweetheart." He turned his attention back to the speaker.
"Millenium Falcon, please assume designated heading. Captain Solo, we don't wish to hurt you or your ship, but our orders are to see you down. Cooperate, and no one will be injured."
Leia leaned forward to whisper in her husband's ear. "Han, if you can send a transmission back to Mimban advising them of our situation, they should be able to straighten this out." She paused, then said, "Why didn't you tell me you were in trouble here?"
Han glanced around as Chewbacca entered the cockpit and took the co-pilot seat back. "Your diplomats wouldn't be able to get us out of a paper bag here." He righted the ship, and the ship's artificial gravity compensated for the shift in relationship to the planet's natural gravity. "All right, Chewie, let's switch to landing cycle. But don't go to automatic; let's keep it on manual. At least we can still show them what we're made of."
"Han—" Leia began nervously.
"Don't worry," he said. "This is my territory now." But the half-smile he wore was anything but reassuring to the Princess. She had seen that expression before—when he had been on the verge of trying something insane.
The insanity wasn't long in coming. At just the moment when Han should have been firing his retros for a nice, smooth, soft landing, he turned the Falcon on its saucer-dish side and went into free-fall.
All Leia could see out the cockpit window were clouds screaming past at an alarming rate. They looked like they were moving from left to right, but Leia knew that the ship and its crew were plunging downward at a very dangerous speed.
"Starboard thrusters, Chewie!"
Leia's mouth fell in disbelief. Starboard thrusters would push them toward the planet surface even faster. "Are you trying to kill us?" she demanded. The white-hot metal glowing on the port side of the hull outside the window did nothing to relieve her apprehension.
"Hang on, Sweetheart!"
Chewbacca engaged starboard thrusters. Han kept his hand on maneuvering controls. "Not yet, not yet..." he chanted to himself. Chewbacca rattled off a string of woofs that Leia could only guess were translatable as numbers.
She held her breath.
"Now!"
Han pulled at the controls, and the Millenium Falcon banked sharply upward. Leia gasped as the planet surface momentarily became visible through the cockpit window. They seemed no higher than the tree tops as they skimmed along above it. It had been close, a dare-devil maneuver that only someone as good, or as insane, as Han would ever try. Han stretched back in his chair leisurely, seemingly oblivious to the hair-raising speed at which they were traveling. "Take us in, Chewie. Airbase twelve, platform eighteen, just like the man said."
"You didn't lose them," Leia informed him, looking at the scanners.
"Didn't plan on it," Han replied. "Just wanted to shake 'em long enough to let them know that landing was my idea."
Leia was silent for a moment, then said quietly, "Han, why didn't you ever tell me you were court-martialed?"
He didn't look at her. "If I had, would you be sitting there now?"
"You know I would."
"Do I? You get so wrapped up in your titles and names sometimes that you forget about other things."
"That's unfair."
"Really? Yesterday you were so involved with Mon Mothma that you couldn't even see me."
"It was an important meeting."
"So important that you couldn't include me, or even tell me about it?"
"It was nothing that you'd be interested. Politics, charters, boring topics like that."
"You don't trust me to keep my mouth shut about your political secrets, do you."
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to. It was written all over your face. Hang on, we're landing."
The landing was smooth and uneventful. The platform wasn't anything special, just the standard enclosure with a sliding roof. The center area of the floor was blackened from use, and several spots on the walls were charred, too. What surprised Han was the fact that there were no "special arrangements" made for them at the site, given the armed "escort" that had greeted them earlier. Han's curiosity was acute. He honestly could not figure out why they wanted him so badly. Chewbacca secured the landing claw and began shutting down systems while Han unbuckled his straps.
"You and Leia stay here. I'm gonna leave my com-mike on. If I tell you to lift off, you get the Hell out of here. Understand?" Chewbacca grumbled something that seemed to be an affirmative. Solo moved to the back of the cockpit. Leia followed him, and he turned on her. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked.
"With you."
"No, you're not. You're staying here, just like I told Chewie."
"'For better or worse,' remember? You're not getting rid of me that easily."
Han sighed and extended his hand. Leia reached out to take it, but then he grabbed her wrist instead. "Chewie, hang onto her." Before Leia could realize what was happening, her wrist was held captive in an unbreakable Wookiee grip. Han smiled to himself as he left the cabin, leaving Leia struggling and cursing behind him.
Once outside the ship, Han took a deep, nervous breath. The platform looked absolutely peaceful. There wasn't even a single trooper in sight. Perhaps they were all waiting on the other side of the entrance. Han's fears were confirmed as the doors slid open. Beyond it were two ranks of soldiers, facing each other. To Han's surprise, they didn't rush in as soon as the doors were open, but stayed where they were. One figure did come in, however, walking with smooth, confident strides.
Han whistled softly. Even from where he was, he could recognize the uniform of a general. To call out this kind of show...
Han rested his hand on the butt of his blaster. The calmly approaching figure didn't even slow. "Sit tight, Chewie," he whispered into the microphone of his headset, which he hadn't removed. "I'm gonna find out what this ruckus is all about." Everything that had happened with the court-martial had happened so long ago. He'd have thought everyone would have forgotten by now. Except for Marina, of course. Funny that he should think of her now.
The approaching figure waved. Han tightened his grip on his blaster, ready to draw it out in a hurry. "Solo!" the man called.
Han started at the sound of the voice. "Taj?" he said softly. Then more loudly. "Taj!" The surprise of seeing Taj again had caused Solo's hand to move away from his gun, a move he instantly regretted.
The other man broke into a slow trot, but stopped short when Han's fingers again returned to the butt of his weapon. "Hey, easy there! It's me, remember?"
"Go to Hell, Taj," Solo muttered. "Where were you ten years ago when I needed you?"
"Is that any way to talk to an old friend? I stuck my neck out for you, you know."
"Oh, sure. I sat there and watched you sitting in the audience, not saying a word. Why didn't you speak up for me, Taj?"
"For the same reason you didn't call on me as a witness. You knew I couldn't do anything to help you. Not then. If I had opened my mouth, I would have been court-martialed, too. I needed my freedom to move in the military circles."
"And I needed mine!" Han said. "The starfleet was my life! You took it away from me."
"Not me," Taj reminded. "Bergos. And I repaid him for you."
"I can see you had only my welfare at heart," Han said sarcastically, eying the uniform up and down.
"So?" The general pointed to the red military piping on Han's trousers. "I see you kept your bloodstripe. I wasn't going to give up my career."
"And Marina? Did you keep her, too?"
The general smiled. "As a matter of fact, I did. We're married now, you know, and we have a daughter—"
"Why, you—" Han swung his fist up for a right cross. Taj blocked it and used Han's momentum against him, pulling him around and side-stepping Han's attempt at a follow-up. Solo winced in pain as his arm was twisted behind his back, but he did not cry out.
"Before I let you go," Taj whispered in his ear, "I'm going to tell you something. Your ego may be a little bruised by this, but I was always Marina's first choice. She knew you were innocent just as much as I did. Your court-martial had nothing to do with who she picked. In fact, she refused to marry me until—"
"Don't move!" The voice came from behind Solo and Taj, from the direction of the ship. It was dangerously feminine.
Han tried to crane his neck around to see over Taj's shoulder, but failed. "Leia, dammit, I told you to stay on the ship!"
"Shut up, Han! You, there, let him go."
"Of course," Taj said agreeably, releasing his grip on Han and turning to face Leia.
Han turned, too. "Leia, you bluthering idiot, I told you to—"
"Where's the Wook," Taj asked, smiling. He took a step toward the Princess. "I take it that was Chewbacca manning the guns, wasn't it?"
"Don't move!" Leia repeated, but her eyes flicked to Han uncertainly.
In that instant, Taj was upon her, twisting the gun out of her hand and spinning her in front of him as a hostage. Now it was Leia who was the captive.
Han made a move as if to rush Taj, but the general brought the muzzle of the blaster to one side of Leia's head threateningly. "I wouldn't try it, Han," he said. "But I would call out the Wook, if I were you. Tell him to step out where I can see him."
Han sighed. He had no choice. The big, dumb monkey was one of the best pilots in the galaxy, but he had a soft spot where Leia was concerned. She must have somehow persuaded him to disobey orders. Idiots, the two of them. Of course he was around here somewhere. "All right, Chewie," Han called. "Come on out."
From out of the Falcon's shadows, a huge, hairy form emerged. At Han's nod, Chewbacca lowered his bowcaster and set it on the floor, but he snarled menacingly at Taj. One-time friend or no, Taj was now threatening the two humans he cared about most, and Wookiees didn't take too kindly to that sort of thing.
"All right," Taj said pleasantly. "Straight ahead now, through that door. The Wookiee first, and then you. Move."
Han signalled Chewbacca to obey. For the time being, Taj held all the cards. Han would have to make his play later.
"I'm sorry, Han," Leia said quietly.
"Yeah." He mumbled. "Me, too."
As Chewbacca started through the phalanx of guards, Han considered making his move right then and there. But he decided against it. The odds were still too great.
The instant Han's foot stepped through the door, the rank of Corellians on each side of him snapped to attention and saluted, moving as a single unit with practiced precision.
Puzzled, Han risked a backwards glance at the general, but Taj was making matters even more confusing by releasing Leia and returning her blaster to her butt-end first. Taj was grinning as if he were enjoying a good joke. He stepped forward and extended his hand. "Welcome back to Corellia, Captain Solo."
Without warning, Han's right fist shot out to strike Taj across the jaw in a blow that sent him staggering against one of the soldiers. Han whirled to fend off the attack he expected to come from the other soldiers, but there was nothing. Not a single Corellian made a move out of line to restrain him. It made no sense.
Taj picked himself up, rubbing his chin ruefully. "Feel better?" he asked.
"A little," Han replied. "Not much. You had a gun to her head!"
"Safety was on."
Leia sighed and shook her head. Men, and their jokes.
Han went on, "There's also the 'escort.'"
"You loved that."
"And I still owe you for taking my job, stealing my girl, and—"
"He didn't steal me," said a female voice.
Han looked up to see the owner of the voice approaching from the far end of the ranks of soldiers. She looked the same as she had ten years ago. She was dressed in a long, white tunic that reached nearly to her knees, underneath of which flowed a matching white pants suit. Her dark hair was pulled up into a bun that framed her smooth, oval features and accented her deep, black eyes.
"Marina..." Han said.
It had been nearly eight years—eight standard years, that was, more like ten Corellian years—since Han had last set foot on the planet of his origins. He had sworn he would never come back here, and now look what he was doing.
Don't I ever learn? he asked himself.
Apparently not, his other half answered.
So here he was, just out of hyperspace, waiting for clearance for planetfall. And it was taking a hell of a long time, too. For half an instant, he considered just dropping into the atmosphere without clearance, but this was Corellia. One didn't just "drop in" unannounced.
Chewbacca barked with impatient concern.
"Yeah, I know." Han replied.
"What did he say?" Leia asked.
"Nothing. Why don't you go strap yourself in the back. We should get clearance any minute now." Actually, he wanted to talk to Chewbacca alone. Leia wasn't a half-bad navigator when given the chance, but there were times when she definitely got in the way.
Fortunately, Leia didn't protest. She left Han to his ship and found herself a comfortable chair in the back.
"Brrrwl. Arnnww," the Wookiee said softly when she had gone.
"How in the Hell should I know?" Han asked. "They never said anything about forbidding me to come back. 'Course, I didn't stay around long enough to find out, either..."
Chewie shook his head. "Wfflnraww abrawgnnarr."
"Well at least I didn't get thrown out for speaking against the local gods. You're not getting homesick on me, are you, Pal?"
Chewbacca looked over at his partner and woofed.
Solo grinned. "Well, I guess I can't argue with that. Lay in a course for Pander-what's-it's-name. If they don't answer by the time you get it up, we're gonna turn this bucket around. I didn't want to come here anyway."
Just then, Han's headset came to life with the voice of the ground-controller Han had spoken with before. The youthful quality of the voice made Han sure he was talking with a greenhorn, but that was still no excuse for holding things up for so long.
"Millenium Falcon, you've been given clearance for planetfall over sector twelve, airbase twelve, and landing on platform eighteen. Over."
"Took you long enough. What'd you do, hang your laundry out and wait for it to dry?"
"Sorry for the delay, sir. I've been instructed to welcome you back to Corellia, Captain Solo. Please do not veer from your designated course."
A "welcome" and a "do not veer from your designated course" in the same breath. Han raised an eyebrow at that.
"Your escort should be with you momentarily," the ground controller continued.
Escort? Something weird was going on, and Han didn't like the looks of it. "Chewie, engage main thrusters. We're getting out of here."
But as Han started to nose the ship up to veer away from the planet, the ship gave a shudder, as if it had been hit by a laser blast. Han glanced at the scanner, and sucked in his breath. Just coming into range were at least a dozen Corellian fighters, all manned, he knew, by top-notch Corellian pilots.
The blast had been a warning shot. If it had been for real, the ship and all its crew would have been space-dust by now. They had caught him completely off-guard, without any shields up for protection. Escape was extremely unlikely. They couldn't jump into hyperspace this deep in the system, and the Falcon, as fast as she was, couldn't outrun that many Corellian fighters at this close range.
How could I have been so stupid? Han asked himself. He should have known something was up. But Why? The reason eluded him.
He had, however, never been one to dwell on questions, especially at a time like this. He preferred actions.
Leia came running breathlessly from the main part of the ship. "What was that?" she asked.
"Strap yourself in," Han ordered. "This may get a little rough."
Leia slid into the navigator's chair and buckled her straps. Her expression was full of questions, probably the same ones Han had, but he didn't have time for conversations right now.
"Here's where the fun begins!" Han declared, pushing the throttle forward and setting the ship into a spin. Lousy odds had never deterred him before.
Leia caught her breath as the planet rushed up at them with dizzying speed. She had hoped that this sort of thing would be over when the war was over.
It was not a welcome experience.
Not to her, anyway.
Han, on the other hand, was almost smiling. "Charge up the guns, Chewie. We'll give 'em a run for their money."
The Wookie co-pilot barked.
"Half-power for now," Solo replied, "but full-power on standby. As long as they don't hurt us, I'll be gentle. But Deities help 'em if they start getting rough. How are those shields holding up?" He knew Chewbacca had switched them on at the first sign of trouble.
Chewbacca answered, and Han gave a satisfied nod. "Okay then, go climb into the bottom turret. We're gonna start smokin' in about thirty seconds."
With a speed that didn't seem possible for such a great lumbering bulk, Chewbacca disentangled himself from the co-pilot's chair and rushed aft to the keel-side gun turret. Leia decided to risk asking Han for information.
"What's going on?" she said.
Han glanced backwards at her. "If I knew, I wouldn't be askin' that myself."
Before Leia could inquire further into the cryptic reply, Han looped the ship downward and doubled back the way they had come, only flying upside down now. "Here they come, Chewie!"
There was a short growl over the internal speaker for a reply.
Someone, apparently sensing what Han was about to do, tried to reach the Falcon on the communication channel. "Millenium Falcon, this is escort commander. Our orders are to see you safely down to planetside. If you cooperate, no one will be hurt. Please acknowledge, over."
"Like Hell," Solo muttered. Aloud to the transmitter pickup he said, "Sorry, fellas. I just changed my vacation plans. Maybe next year. And be advised that I have a woman on board." He ripped the headset off and thrust it backwards at Leia. "Say something," he said.
"Uh, hello," Leia said.
Han grinned, switched the mode back to ship's intercom, and pulled the headset back on. He doubted whether Leia's presence would make any difference to the more experienced pilots, but it might make a cadet or two hesitate, and every little bit helped.
"This one's for the money, Chewie!" he said. "Double stakes!"
Chewbacca hooted and lined up one of the slick, stream-lined Corellian fighters in his sights. Already the ships were beginning to spin away, and the pulsating bolts from Chewie's gun exploded harmlessly to one side of the one he was aiming at. The Wookie howled in frustration.
But the fighter formation was beginning to break up, and that was all Han wanted. He dove into what had been the center of the formation and pulled up in a steep, high-g climb that would have made the Falcon's crew black out if the ship's gravity compensators had not been functioning.
"Let's see 'em follow us through that!" Han said smugly. It wasn't much of a headstart, but maybe they could reach the edge of the system before the fighters caught up with them again, and the coordinates were already set for the hyperspace jump.
But in the upper atmosphere, Han found about as many new fighters as he had just left.
Whoever had put this 'escort' together was good. And apparently he knew just knew how good Han was.
The fighters quickly closed in around the Falcon, trapping her. Chewbacca managed to hit a few of the ships with bright flashes of half-power warning shots. The ships did not immediately return fire, but they closed their net tighter, forcing Han back towards the planet's surface.
"Full power, Chewie!" Han said. "I'm tired of playing games."
But once again, his actions had been anticipated. "Millenium Falcon, the next shot you fire will be your last. We'll blow up your gun turrets as well as whoever's manning them."
And they could, Han knew. Chewbacca might be able to pick off one or two, but in the end, they would lose. He spoke into the intercom pickup. "Belay that, Chewie. Get back up here. Looks like we're goin' down."
Meanwhile, the first batch of fighters had regrouped and were now taking up positions with the second group around the Falcon. Han's scope registered a count of twenty-six ships total. Whoever wanted him, wanted him bad.
"What's going on?" Leia asked tightly, for the second time. "Han, if you've violated some law, I've still got diplomatic immunity. It should be extended to you, also."
Han's mouth was set in a firm line. "Your 'diplomatic immunity' doesn't hold water on Corellia. I don't even know what complaint they've conjured up against me this time. They already court-martialed me. You'd think they'd be happy enough with that."
"Court-martialed?"
"Your hubby's just full of surprises, Sweetheart." He turned his attention back to the speaker.
"Millenium Falcon, please assume designated heading. Captain Solo, we don't wish to hurt you or your ship, but our orders are to see you down. Cooperate, and no one will be injured."
Leia leaned forward to whisper in her husband's ear. "Han, if you can send a transmission back to Mimban advising them of our situation, they should be able to straighten this out." She paused, then said, "Why didn't you tell me you were in trouble here?"
Han glanced around as Chewbacca entered the cockpit and took the co-pilot seat back. "Your diplomats wouldn't be able to get us out of a paper bag here." He righted the ship, and the ship's artificial gravity compensated for the shift in relationship to the planet's natural gravity. "All right, Chewie, let's switch to landing cycle. But don't go to automatic; let's keep it on manual. At least we can still show them what we're made of."
"Han—" Leia began nervously.
"Don't worry," he said. "This is my territory now." But the half-smile he wore was anything but reassuring to the Princess. She had seen that expression before—when he had been on the verge of trying something insane.
The insanity wasn't long in coming. At just the moment when Han should have been firing his retros for a nice, smooth, soft landing, he turned the Falcon on its saucer-dish side and went into free-fall.
All Leia could see out the cockpit window were clouds screaming past at an alarming rate. They looked like they were moving from left to right, but Leia knew that the ship and its crew were plunging downward at a very dangerous speed.
"Starboard thrusters, Chewie!"
Leia's mouth fell in disbelief. Starboard thrusters would push them toward the planet surface even faster. "Are you trying to kill us?" she demanded. The white-hot metal glowing on the port side of the hull outside the window did nothing to relieve her apprehension.
"Hang on, Sweetheart!"
Chewbacca engaged starboard thrusters. Han kept his hand on maneuvering controls. "Not yet, not yet..." he chanted to himself. Chewbacca rattled off a string of woofs that Leia could only guess were translatable as numbers.
She held her breath.
"Now!"
Han pulled at the controls, and the Millenium Falcon banked sharply upward. Leia gasped as the planet surface momentarily became visible through the cockpit window. They seemed no higher than the tree tops as they skimmed along above it. It had been close, a dare-devil maneuver that only someone as good, or as insane, as Han would ever try. Han stretched back in his chair leisurely, seemingly oblivious to the hair-raising speed at which they were traveling. "Take us in, Chewie. Airbase twelve, platform eighteen, just like the man said."
"You didn't lose them," Leia informed him, looking at the scanners.
"Didn't plan on it," Han replied. "Just wanted to shake 'em long enough to let them know that landing was my idea."
Leia was silent for a moment, then said quietly, "Han, why didn't you ever tell me you were court-martialed?"
He didn't look at her. "If I had, would you be sitting there now?"
"You know I would."
"Do I? You get so wrapped up in your titles and names sometimes that you forget about other things."
"That's unfair."
"Really? Yesterday you were so involved with Mon Mothma that you couldn't even see me."
"It was an important meeting."
"So important that you couldn't include me, or even tell me about it?"
"It was nothing that you'd be interested. Politics, charters, boring topics like that."
"You don't trust me to keep my mouth shut about your political secrets, do you."
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to. It was written all over your face. Hang on, we're landing."
The landing was smooth and uneventful. The platform wasn't anything special, just the standard enclosure with a sliding roof. The center area of the floor was blackened from use, and several spots on the walls were charred, too. What surprised Han was the fact that there were no "special arrangements" made for them at the site, given the armed "escort" that had greeted them earlier. Han's curiosity was acute. He honestly could not figure out why they wanted him so badly. Chewbacca secured the landing claw and began shutting down systems while Han unbuckled his straps.
"You and Leia stay here. I'm gonna leave my com-mike on. If I tell you to lift off, you get the Hell out of here. Understand?" Chewbacca grumbled something that seemed to be an affirmative. Solo moved to the back of the cockpit. Leia followed him, and he turned on her. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked.
"With you."
"No, you're not. You're staying here, just like I told Chewie."
"'For better or worse,' remember? You're not getting rid of me that easily."
Han sighed and extended his hand. Leia reached out to take it, but then he grabbed her wrist instead. "Chewie, hang onto her." Before Leia could realize what was happening, her wrist was held captive in an unbreakable Wookiee grip. Han smiled to himself as he left the cabin, leaving Leia struggling and cursing behind him.
Once outside the ship, Han took a deep, nervous breath. The platform looked absolutely peaceful. There wasn't even a single trooper in sight. Perhaps they were all waiting on the other side of the entrance. Han's fears were confirmed as the doors slid open. Beyond it were two ranks of soldiers, facing each other. To Han's surprise, they didn't rush in as soon as the doors were open, but stayed where they were. One figure did come in, however, walking with smooth, confident strides.
Han whistled softly. Even from where he was, he could recognize the uniform of a general. To call out this kind of show...
Han rested his hand on the butt of his blaster. The calmly approaching figure didn't even slow. "Sit tight, Chewie," he whispered into the microphone of his headset, which he hadn't removed. "I'm gonna find out what this ruckus is all about." Everything that had happened with the court-martial had happened so long ago. He'd have thought everyone would have forgotten by now. Except for Marina, of course. Funny that he should think of her now.
The approaching figure waved. Han tightened his grip on his blaster, ready to draw it out in a hurry. "Solo!" the man called.
Han started at the sound of the voice. "Taj?" he said softly. Then more loudly. "Taj!" The surprise of seeing Taj again had caused Solo's hand to move away from his gun, a move he instantly regretted.
The other man broke into a slow trot, but stopped short when Han's fingers again returned to the butt of his weapon. "Hey, easy there! It's me, remember?"
"Go to Hell, Taj," Solo muttered. "Where were you ten years ago when I needed you?"
"Is that any way to talk to an old friend? I stuck my neck out for you, you know."
"Oh, sure. I sat there and watched you sitting in the audience, not saying a word. Why didn't you speak up for me, Taj?"
"For the same reason you didn't call on me as a witness. You knew I couldn't do anything to help you. Not then. If I had opened my mouth, I would have been court-martialed, too. I needed my freedom to move in the military circles."
"And I needed mine!" Han said. "The starfleet was my life! You took it away from me."
"Not me," Taj reminded. "Bergos. And I repaid him for you."
"I can see you had only my welfare at heart," Han said sarcastically, eying the uniform up and down.
"So?" The general pointed to the red military piping on Han's trousers. "I see you kept your bloodstripe. I wasn't going to give up my career."
"And Marina? Did you keep her, too?"
The general smiled. "As a matter of fact, I did. We're married now, you know, and we have a daughter—"
"Why, you—" Han swung his fist up for a right cross. Taj blocked it and used Han's momentum against him, pulling him around and side-stepping Han's attempt at a follow-up. Solo winced in pain as his arm was twisted behind his back, but he did not cry out.
"Before I let you go," Taj whispered in his ear, "I'm going to tell you something. Your ego may be a little bruised by this, but I was always Marina's first choice. She knew you were innocent just as much as I did. Your court-martial had nothing to do with who she picked. In fact, she refused to marry me until—"
"Don't move!" The voice came from behind Solo and Taj, from the direction of the ship. It was dangerously feminine.
Han tried to crane his neck around to see over Taj's shoulder, but failed. "Leia, dammit, I told you to stay on the ship!"
"Shut up, Han! You, there, let him go."
"Of course," Taj said agreeably, releasing his grip on Han and turning to face Leia.
Han turned, too. "Leia, you bluthering idiot, I told you to—"
"Where's the Wook," Taj asked, smiling. He took a step toward the Princess. "I take it that was Chewbacca manning the guns, wasn't it?"
"Don't move!" Leia repeated, but her eyes flicked to Han uncertainly.
In that instant, Taj was upon her, twisting the gun out of her hand and spinning her in front of him as a hostage. Now it was Leia who was the captive.
Han made a move as if to rush Taj, but the general brought the muzzle of the blaster to one side of Leia's head threateningly. "I wouldn't try it, Han," he said. "But I would call out the Wook, if I were you. Tell him to step out where I can see him."
Han sighed. He had no choice. The big, dumb monkey was one of the best pilots in the galaxy, but he had a soft spot where Leia was concerned. She must have somehow persuaded him to disobey orders. Idiots, the two of them. Of course he was around here somewhere. "All right, Chewie," Han called. "Come on out."
From out of the Falcon's shadows, a huge, hairy form emerged. At Han's nod, Chewbacca lowered his bowcaster and set it on the floor, but he snarled menacingly at Taj. One-time friend or no, Taj was now threatening the two humans he cared about most, and Wookiees didn't take too kindly to that sort of thing.
"All right," Taj said pleasantly. "Straight ahead now, through that door. The Wookiee first, and then you. Move."
Han signalled Chewbacca to obey. For the time being, Taj held all the cards. Han would have to make his play later.
"I'm sorry, Han," Leia said quietly.
"Yeah." He mumbled. "Me, too."
As Chewbacca started through the phalanx of guards, Han considered making his move right then and there. But he decided against it. The odds were still too great.
The instant Han's foot stepped through the door, the rank of Corellians on each side of him snapped to attention and saluted, moving as a single unit with practiced precision.
Puzzled, Han risked a backwards glance at the general, but Taj was making matters even more confusing by releasing Leia and returning her blaster to her butt-end first. Taj was grinning as if he were enjoying a good joke. He stepped forward and extended his hand. "Welcome back to Corellia, Captain Solo."
Without warning, Han's right fist shot out to strike Taj across the jaw in a blow that sent him staggering against one of the soldiers. Han whirled to fend off the attack he expected to come from the other soldiers, but there was nothing. Not a single Corellian made a move out of line to restrain him. It made no sense.
Taj picked himself up, rubbing his chin ruefully. "Feel better?" he asked.
"A little," Han replied. "Not much. You had a gun to her head!"
"Safety was on."
Leia sighed and shook her head. Men, and their jokes.
Han went on, "There's also the 'escort.'"
"You loved that."
"And I still owe you for taking my job, stealing my girl, and—"
"He didn't steal me," said a female voice.
Han looked up to see the owner of the voice approaching from the far end of the ranks of soldiers. She looked the same as she had ten years ago. She was dressed in a long, white tunic that reached nearly to her knees, underneath of which flowed a matching white pants suit. Her dark hair was pulled up into a bun that framed her smooth, oval features and accented her deep, black eyes.
"Marina..." Han said.
-----
Chapter Seven
Time seemed to pass slowly on Dagobah, with very little real progress taking place.
It was not due to lack of effort. Briande pushed herself even beyond what Luke asked of her. But still, there was very little advancement in her skills. At times, Luke was extremely frustrated with Briande's lack of achievement, but he refused to believe that she couldn't learn. For one thing, she knew so much already. She could use the Force to give herself a slight physical edge that an ordinary non-sensitive wouldn't have. But still, it was not enough. A Jedi Knight needed to be able to do more than just parlor tricks.
If he could just teach Briande to open herself more to the Force, he felt certain she would be able to learn the control necessary to use it.
Something bothered him about his pupil. He didn't know exactly what it was, but she always seemed very distant, somehow. Almost as if she was hiding something from him.
Luke wanted her to succeed. He had to admit to himself that there was more to Briande's training than simply giving her the wherewithal to put an end to her sister's wrongdoings. Intertwined with Briande's success as a student was his own success as a teacher. There was an underlying desire on his part to train not only Briande, but other students as well—to bring back a legion of Jedi Knights to protect the fledgling New Republic.
He wished that besides just teaching him, Ben and Yoda had taught him how to teach. But everything had been so desperate, with so much depending on Luke's defeating Vader and the Emperor, that there hadn't been time. And so now, unless he could find some way help Briande become more open to the Force, he truly would be the last Jedi Knight.
His student came back from gathering the roots and other vegetables that Luke had sent her for, and set the small sack on the table. He hadn't had to instruct her in how to find what he wanted, just told her what to get. She had explained that rather than the engineering and mechanical studies Luke had been most interested when at school, her interest had been botany. Luke picked out a few roots from the assortment and handed them to her. She began peeling them while Luke broke off a small piece of grabol and dropped it into the pot of water that was boiling over the cooking fire. Only deference to his student kept him from putting in more of the hot, fiery vegetable that added spice to his stew. One had to develop a taste for grabol. Luke thought back to the time he had eaten a single raw leaf from a grabol plant, and smiled. He felt as if he had drunk half the lake outside in trying to quench the fire in his mouth. Yoda hadn't warned him, had only stood by and chuckled while Luke tried to cool the nerves in his mouth. He had thought that he would never be able to taste anything again for as long as he lived.
Now the cycle had come full turn. Now it was his student who was chopping bits of this and that, and it was Luke who was directing how to prepare the simple but nutritious dinner. But Luke was determined to spare Briande some of the unnecessary trials he had experienced.
As he turned around to inspect the assortment of plants on the table, he caught part of a half-suppressed sigh. "You don't like cooking?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I can think of better things to do with my time. A food-automaton does the same thing, with more efficiency."
"Perhaps," he agreed. "But there's a certain amount of satisfaction from doing something yourself. Besides—" he smiled "—it tastes better this way."
Briande kept silent. Luke knew as well as she did that a food-automaton could make food taste any way it was programmed to. It could even be programmed for variety so that one dish never tasted exactly the same way twice.
"So—" Luke said, adding a few handfulls of vegetables to the pot and stirring them together. He sniffed the concoction, tasted it, added a few dashes of salt, and tasted it again. Better. "What better things would you do, if you weren't cooking?"
"I'd train. That's what I'm here for."
"Even the Jedi need time to rest, Briande."
"Rest? When there's so much yet to do?"
Luke nodded. "You'll find that the development of strength comes from a combination of work and rest. One is just as important as the other. You have to give your body and your mind time to relax and recuperate. Otherwise, they won't be ready for the next exertion."
"My sister doesn't rest. Every day, she grows stronger. And somehow, she's..."
"What?"
Briande shook her head. "I don't know. She was always very strong with the Force, but somehow she's become even more powerful. She can rebuild the Empire if I don't stop her, and I can't do that with a paring knife and a potato."
"You never know," Skywalker said, thinking that he had stopped Darth Vader with less.
"You don't know Brenna like I do, Luke. She's cold, and she's ruthless, and she's clever. She tricked me once, very nearly killed me. She won't rest until she's accomplished her purpose. She will rebuild the Empire, if I don't stop her."
They fell silent for a moment. Luke went back to the table to help Briande clean and chop the rest of the vegetables. She moved over to give him room—a little more than was necessary.
"Tell me something," Luke said conversationally as he began to peel a wild carrot. "Why do you want to become a Jedi Knight?"
"Want? I'm here because I have to be."
Luke stopped, stunned by what he had just heard. "Briande...you don't want to be a Jedi Knight?"
"I did once."
"And not now?"
Briande shrugged. "It's a dirty business. I killed once, didn't much care for it, but I'll do what's necessary."
"And necessity is your only reason? There's nothing more...personal?"
Briande Brellis turned to look at him. "If you're suggesting that I want to kill my sister, the answer is no. But neither will I shrink from the job when the time comes." Then her eyes narrowed as she studied Luke suspiciously. "Are you testing me?"
"Testing you? No, of course not. It's just that...killing...is not a Jedi's purpose. We're supposed to be preservers of life."
His student gave a slight, dry smile. "You are testing me, aren't you. Don't worry. I know what I have to do. The one thing that my father taught me is that emotions are a Jedi's greatest weakness. It took me a long time, but I finally learned my lesson."
Luke's lack of understanding was written in his face. "Learned your lesson? What lesson?"
"That as far as my sister is concerned, I can't afford to have any feelings."
Luke shook his head disbelievingly. "Not even love?" Didn’t she even know what the word ‘Jedi’ meant? Perhaps she’d made the same mistake he originally had, and thought the root meant ‘warrior’—which was a far cry from the actual meaning.
His student laughed, but without mirth. "That's the worst one of them all, isn't it? I mean, that's what made my father an easy target for Vader. My father could have hidden from him, but my mother couldn't. Vader crippled him when he tried to stop him. Brenna used it, too. It was the bait she used in her trap against me, and it even turned my sister to the Dark Side in the first place."
"How?"
Briande looked at Luke as if surprised that he didn't already know. Then she shrugged. "Brenna...had a lover. He was killed, and she swore revenge against the ones responsible for it--the Rebellion, and me."
Luke nodded. "So the anger fed itself, and her love for one man turned into hatred for all mankind. There's always that danger. But Briande, no human being can live totally without feeling."
Briande raised her eyebrows as she regarded her teacher. "Maybe," she said. "But I don't intend to make the same mistake twice..."
Time seemed to pass slowly on Dagobah, with very little real progress taking place.
It was not due to lack of effort. Briande pushed herself even beyond what Luke asked of her. But still, there was very little advancement in her skills. At times, Luke was extremely frustrated with Briande's lack of achievement, but he refused to believe that she couldn't learn. For one thing, she knew so much already. She could use the Force to give herself a slight physical edge that an ordinary non-sensitive wouldn't have. But still, it was not enough. A Jedi Knight needed to be able to do more than just parlor tricks.
If he could just teach Briande to open herself more to the Force, he felt certain she would be able to learn the control necessary to use it.
Something bothered him about his pupil. He didn't know exactly what it was, but she always seemed very distant, somehow. Almost as if she was hiding something from him.
Luke wanted her to succeed. He had to admit to himself that there was more to Briande's training than simply giving her the wherewithal to put an end to her sister's wrongdoings. Intertwined with Briande's success as a student was his own success as a teacher. There was an underlying desire on his part to train not only Briande, but other students as well—to bring back a legion of Jedi Knights to protect the fledgling New Republic.
He wished that besides just teaching him, Ben and Yoda had taught him how to teach. But everything had been so desperate, with so much depending on Luke's defeating Vader and the Emperor, that there hadn't been time. And so now, unless he could find some way help Briande become more open to the Force, he truly would be the last Jedi Knight.
His student came back from gathering the roots and other vegetables that Luke had sent her for, and set the small sack on the table. He hadn't had to instruct her in how to find what he wanted, just told her what to get. She had explained that rather than the engineering and mechanical studies Luke had been most interested when at school, her interest had been botany. Luke picked out a few roots from the assortment and handed them to her. She began peeling them while Luke broke off a small piece of grabol and dropped it into the pot of water that was boiling over the cooking fire. Only deference to his student kept him from putting in more of the hot, fiery vegetable that added spice to his stew. One had to develop a taste for grabol. Luke thought back to the time he had eaten a single raw leaf from a grabol plant, and smiled. He felt as if he had drunk half the lake outside in trying to quench the fire in his mouth. Yoda hadn't warned him, had only stood by and chuckled while Luke tried to cool the nerves in his mouth. He had thought that he would never be able to taste anything again for as long as he lived.
Now the cycle had come full turn. Now it was his student who was chopping bits of this and that, and it was Luke who was directing how to prepare the simple but nutritious dinner. But Luke was determined to spare Briande some of the unnecessary trials he had experienced.
As he turned around to inspect the assortment of plants on the table, he caught part of a half-suppressed sigh. "You don't like cooking?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I can think of better things to do with my time. A food-automaton does the same thing, with more efficiency."
"Perhaps," he agreed. "But there's a certain amount of satisfaction from doing something yourself. Besides—" he smiled "—it tastes better this way."
Briande kept silent. Luke knew as well as she did that a food-automaton could make food taste any way it was programmed to. It could even be programmed for variety so that one dish never tasted exactly the same way twice.
"So—" Luke said, adding a few handfulls of vegetables to the pot and stirring them together. He sniffed the concoction, tasted it, added a few dashes of salt, and tasted it again. Better. "What better things would you do, if you weren't cooking?"
"I'd train. That's what I'm here for."
"Even the Jedi need time to rest, Briande."
"Rest? When there's so much yet to do?"
Luke nodded. "You'll find that the development of strength comes from a combination of work and rest. One is just as important as the other. You have to give your body and your mind time to relax and recuperate. Otherwise, they won't be ready for the next exertion."
"My sister doesn't rest. Every day, she grows stronger. And somehow, she's..."
"What?"
Briande shook her head. "I don't know. She was always very strong with the Force, but somehow she's become even more powerful. She can rebuild the Empire if I don't stop her, and I can't do that with a paring knife and a potato."
"You never know," Skywalker said, thinking that he had stopped Darth Vader with less.
"You don't know Brenna like I do, Luke. She's cold, and she's ruthless, and she's clever. She tricked me once, very nearly killed me. She won't rest until she's accomplished her purpose. She will rebuild the Empire, if I don't stop her."
They fell silent for a moment. Luke went back to the table to help Briande clean and chop the rest of the vegetables. She moved over to give him room—a little more than was necessary.
"Tell me something," Luke said conversationally as he began to peel a wild carrot. "Why do you want to become a Jedi Knight?"
"Want? I'm here because I have to be."
Luke stopped, stunned by what he had just heard. "Briande...you don't want to be a Jedi Knight?"
"I did once."
"And not now?"
Briande shrugged. "It's a dirty business. I killed once, didn't much care for it, but I'll do what's necessary."
"And necessity is your only reason? There's nothing more...personal?"
Briande Brellis turned to look at him. "If you're suggesting that I want to kill my sister, the answer is no. But neither will I shrink from the job when the time comes." Then her eyes narrowed as she studied Luke suspiciously. "Are you testing me?"
"Testing you? No, of course not. It's just that...killing...is not a Jedi's purpose. We're supposed to be preservers of life."
His student gave a slight, dry smile. "You are testing me, aren't you. Don't worry. I know what I have to do. The one thing that my father taught me is that emotions are a Jedi's greatest weakness. It took me a long time, but I finally learned my lesson."
Luke's lack of understanding was written in his face. "Learned your lesson? What lesson?"
"That as far as my sister is concerned, I can't afford to have any feelings."
Luke shook his head disbelievingly. "Not even love?" Didn’t she even know what the word ‘Jedi’ meant? Perhaps she’d made the same mistake he originally had, and thought the root meant ‘warrior’—which was a far cry from the actual meaning.
His student laughed, but without mirth. "That's the worst one of them all, isn't it? I mean, that's what made my father an easy target for Vader. My father could have hidden from him, but my mother couldn't. Vader crippled him when he tried to stop him. Brenna used it, too. It was the bait she used in her trap against me, and it even turned my sister to the Dark Side in the first place."
"How?"
Briande looked at Luke as if surprised that he didn't already know. Then she shrugged. "Brenna...had a lover. He was killed, and she swore revenge against the ones responsible for it--the Rebellion, and me."
Luke nodded. "So the anger fed itself, and her love for one man turned into hatred for all mankind. There's always that danger. But Briande, no human being can live totally without feeling."
Briande raised her eyebrows as she regarded her teacher. "Maybe," she said. "But I don't intend to make the same mistake twice..."
-----
Chapter Eight
For a last-minute's notice, the dinner Marina managed to put together was quite elaborate. Han wasn't sure if she and Taj ate like this all the time, or if this qualified as a "special occasion."
Leia was currently making polite conversation with Taj and Marina and trying unsuccessfully to include Han in the boring dinner chatter. Once she had realized that Taj meant none of them any harm, she had slid smoothly into the role of the perfect-mannered-princess again. Chewbacca was too busy making sure that Marina wouldn't have any leftovers to do more than add an occasional grunt to the proceedings.
As for himself, Han would have liked nothing better at the moment than a fast ship and a hold full of illegal cargo.
Unless, of course, it was a few moments alone with Marina.
Marina made some sort of comment about the view on the terrace and suggested that Leia might want to see it before they ate dessert. Han had the feeling that it was some sort of prearranged move, decided upon beforehand between Taj and Marina.
Chewbacca, in true Wookiee form, yawned and stretched back in his chair, oversized for a human but just barely adequate for a Wookiee, preparatory to taking an after-dinner nap. It was amazing how smoothly Chewie could slip back into his old lifestyle, too.
"So, Han," Taj said with a slow smile, leaning back in his own chair. "What have you been doing with yourself since the overthrow of the Empire?"
"You know perfectly well what I've been doing, Taj. Even if you haven't been listening to Leia extoll my virtues, I'm sure your spies keep you well-informed."
"Not as well as you seem to think. All I know for sure is that you commanded the ground forces in the battle of Endor. Things must be kind of slow for you since then?"
Solo glared back at him.
The General nodded. "I thought as much."
"Cut the crap, Taj. What do you want?"
"Nothing," he replied innocently. "Only, I have a proposal I think you might be interested in. A job offer."
"What kind of job offer?"
"Something in your line. We've been having problems with some of our shipping lanes recently. Pirates—that sort of thing. The New Republic is sympathetic to our situation, but they're too busy with their own problems to give us any real assistance. I've been authorized to set up a task force. I want you to command it. Who better to catch a pirate than another pirate, eh? So what do you say?"
Han leaned back in his chair. "Well, Taj, thanks, but no thanks. I don't need to accept any token retribution to make your conscience feel better."
"I'd hardly call giving you twenty of my best bloodstripes a 'token retribution.'"
Chewbacca opened his eyes at this and woofed in astonishment.
"Bloodstripes?" Han said with wide eyes, echoing his friend's question.
Taj smiled. "You can hand pick 'em. Like I was saying, this is a real problem, not just a nuisance."
Chewbacca barked. Han waved at him to show that he hadn't forgotten the important questions. "And ships?"
"Of course. Corellian fighters, and a docking vessel. I assume you'll want to use the Millenium Falcon as a command ship?"
"If I decide to take you up on this. I'm a married man, now." Han glanced toward the balcony, and then started thinking aloud. "Leia won't be at all happy with the idea. Not at all...But Bloodstripes..."
"Don't take too long thinking about it, Han. I need an answer soon."
"Don't get your pants wet. You've waited this long, you can wait a bit longer. Besides, I want more information: like, which lanes are being hit the hardest; what kind of firepower and armament the pirates have; what their tactics are; and...can I really hand pick the 'stripes for my team?"
.
.
.
Leia savored both the view and the cool, refreshing night air. "You were right," she breathed. It's beautiful out here."
"This has always been my favorite place."
"Alderaan used to have cities like this," Leia said wistfully. "When I was young, I used to see the lights from a distance and imagine it was a fairy land."
"I know what you mean," Marina agreed. "That's why we live here instead of someplace more convenient." She paused momentarily, and then changed the subject. "He hasn't changed much, has he?"
Leia's attention was brought back from the lights abruptly. "Who? Han?" she asked, with a trace of suspicion. Despite the fact that she was developing a liking for Marina, it did not escape her notice that there was obviously still a spark of something left from what she and Han used to share.
"He's still as arrogant and as cocky and as vulnerable as ever. To tell the truth, I was very surprised to learn that he had gotten married, but now that I've had the chance to talk with you and get to know you, it's not so much of a shock."
"Why would it be such a shock?" Leia asked cautiously.
"Well...because of what he is. Most men on Corellia either despise women completely or chase after every female creature they see. It's their defense mechanism. Only a very few, like Taj, ever develop a meaningful relationship with just one woman. I was never sure which of the three categories Han leaned toward...until now."
"And now that you know he's capable of a commitment like marriage?" Leia asked with just a slight edge of ice.
Marina laughed. "Oh, don't worry. I'm much too old-fashioned for Han's type, whatever that is. He never asked me to marry him, you know. I've never known Han to let a little thing like a court-martial stand between him and something he wanted. Have you?"
"Well, no..." Leia said hesitantly.
"If he really wanted me, he'd have come back for me." She glanced inside the apartment, then turned back to Leia. "It takes Han time to develop a loyalty to another person, but once he does, he'll stand by you through thick and thin. You can ask Chewbacca. They argue all the time, but they've stuck together for all these years like glue." She stopped, smiled, then added, "Han was never really in love with me, nor I with him. The only reason I waited until after the court-martial was repealed to marry Taj was to prove to Taj that I loved him. If I hadn't waited, Taj would always have wondered."
Leia smiled and looked away again at the distant lights. "Thank you. I must admit that I wondered what you meant when you said that Taj had never stolen you."
"Taj was the only choice for me, though I suspect you'd be bored to death with someone like him. Underneath, he's terribly conservative. He spoils me rotten, and I love it. I'm glad I was able to give him a girl as our first-born."
"Is there some special significance to having a daughter instead of a son?" Leia asked, puzzled.
Marina raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You don't know? No, of course not—Han would never have told you." Marina waved an arm towards the lights. "Haven't you noticed the proportion of males to females since you've been here? Only about one-tenth of Corellia's population consists of women, and most of them are from off-world. The experts aren't sure why—they think it has something to do with radiations in the atmosphere—but very few female babies are born here. Even off-worlders who come here are affected by it. The few women on Corellia tend to have as many children as they can just to keep the population stable. Having a marriage blessed by a female child is considered a sign of extreme good fortune."
Leia's eyes widened in astonishment. "So that explains why Corellia is such a military-oriented planet. But why don't the men simply move off-world? Or bring more off-world women here?"
Marina laughed. "Many of them do. Take Han, for instance. But Corellians also suffer from this affliction called 'pride.' This planet has the worst case of that disease that you will ever find, and Han and Taj suffer from it just as much as everyone else. That's why Han's court-martial was so painful for him, because it hurt his pride."
Leia looked back through the curtains where the men were sitting at the table. "I had often wondered," she said quietly, "why Corellians are such good ship-builders and pilots..."
"And Han is certainly one of the best. He was a Bloodstripe, you know. That's quite an accomplishment when you consider the pool that the elite military force has to draw from."
Leia turned away from the sliding glass doors to look at her hostess. "You sound like you're leading up to something."
Marina glanced over to where her husband and Han and Chewbacca were now deeply engrossed in conversation. "I guess I am, actually..."
For a last-minute's notice, the dinner Marina managed to put together was quite elaborate. Han wasn't sure if she and Taj ate like this all the time, or if this qualified as a "special occasion."
Leia was currently making polite conversation with Taj and Marina and trying unsuccessfully to include Han in the boring dinner chatter. Once she had realized that Taj meant none of them any harm, she had slid smoothly into the role of the perfect-mannered-princess again. Chewbacca was too busy making sure that Marina wouldn't have any leftovers to do more than add an occasional grunt to the proceedings.
As for himself, Han would have liked nothing better at the moment than a fast ship and a hold full of illegal cargo.
Unless, of course, it was a few moments alone with Marina.
Marina made some sort of comment about the view on the terrace and suggested that Leia might want to see it before they ate dessert. Han had the feeling that it was some sort of prearranged move, decided upon beforehand between Taj and Marina.
Chewbacca, in true Wookiee form, yawned and stretched back in his chair, oversized for a human but just barely adequate for a Wookiee, preparatory to taking an after-dinner nap. It was amazing how smoothly Chewie could slip back into his old lifestyle, too.
"So, Han," Taj said with a slow smile, leaning back in his own chair. "What have you been doing with yourself since the overthrow of the Empire?"
"You know perfectly well what I've been doing, Taj. Even if you haven't been listening to Leia extoll my virtues, I'm sure your spies keep you well-informed."
"Not as well as you seem to think. All I know for sure is that you commanded the ground forces in the battle of Endor. Things must be kind of slow for you since then?"
Solo glared back at him.
The General nodded. "I thought as much."
"Cut the crap, Taj. What do you want?"
"Nothing," he replied innocently. "Only, I have a proposal I think you might be interested in. A job offer."
"What kind of job offer?"
"Something in your line. We've been having problems with some of our shipping lanes recently. Pirates—that sort of thing. The New Republic is sympathetic to our situation, but they're too busy with their own problems to give us any real assistance. I've been authorized to set up a task force. I want you to command it. Who better to catch a pirate than another pirate, eh? So what do you say?"
Han leaned back in his chair. "Well, Taj, thanks, but no thanks. I don't need to accept any token retribution to make your conscience feel better."
"I'd hardly call giving you twenty of my best bloodstripes a 'token retribution.'"
Chewbacca opened his eyes at this and woofed in astonishment.
"Bloodstripes?" Han said with wide eyes, echoing his friend's question.
Taj smiled. "You can hand pick 'em. Like I was saying, this is a real problem, not just a nuisance."
Chewbacca barked. Han waved at him to show that he hadn't forgotten the important questions. "And ships?"
"Of course. Corellian fighters, and a docking vessel. I assume you'll want to use the Millenium Falcon as a command ship?"
"If I decide to take you up on this. I'm a married man, now." Han glanced toward the balcony, and then started thinking aloud. "Leia won't be at all happy with the idea. Not at all...But Bloodstripes..."
"Don't take too long thinking about it, Han. I need an answer soon."
"Don't get your pants wet. You've waited this long, you can wait a bit longer. Besides, I want more information: like, which lanes are being hit the hardest; what kind of firepower and armament the pirates have; what their tactics are; and...can I really hand pick the 'stripes for my team?"
.
.
.
Leia savored both the view and the cool, refreshing night air. "You were right," she breathed. It's beautiful out here."
"This has always been my favorite place."
"Alderaan used to have cities like this," Leia said wistfully. "When I was young, I used to see the lights from a distance and imagine it was a fairy land."
"I know what you mean," Marina agreed. "That's why we live here instead of someplace more convenient." She paused momentarily, and then changed the subject. "He hasn't changed much, has he?"
Leia's attention was brought back from the lights abruptly. "Who? Han?" she asked, with a trace of suspicion. Despite the fact that she was developing a liking for Marina, it did not escape her notice that there was obviously still a spark of something left from what she and Han used to share.
"He's still as arrogant and as cocky and as vulnerable as ever. To tell the truth, I was very surprised to learn that he had gotten married, but now that I've had the chance to talk with you and get to know you, it's not so much of a shock."
"Why would it be such a shock?" Leia asked cautiously.
"Well...because of what he is. Most men on Corellia either despise women completely or chase after every female creature they see. It's their defense mechanism. Only a very few, like Taj, ever develop a meaningful relationship with just one woman. I was never sure which of the three categories Han leaned toward...until now."
"And now that you know he's capable of a commitment like marriage?" Leia asked with just a slight edge of ice.
Marina laughed. "Oh, don't worry. I'm much too old-fashioned for Han's type, whatever that is. He never asked me to marry him, you know. I've never known Han to let a little thing like a court-martial stand between him and something he wanted. Have you?"
"Well, no..." Leia said hesitantly.
"If he really wanted me, he'd have come back for me." She glanced inside the apartment, then turned back to Leia. "It takes Han time to develop a loyalty to another person, but once he does, he'll stand by you through thick and thin. You can ask Chewbacca. They argue all the time, but they've stuck together for all these years like glue." She stopped, smiled, then added, "Han was never really in love with me, nor I with him. The only reason I waited until after the court-martial was repealed to marry Taj was to prove to Taj that I loved him. If I hadn't waited, Taj would always have wondered."
Leia smiled and looked away again at the distant lights. "Thank you. I must admit that I wondered what you meant when you said that Taj had never stolen you."
"Taj was the only choice for me, though I suspect you'd be bored to death with someone like him. Underneath, he's terribly conservative. He spoils me rotten, and I love it. I'm glad I was able to give him a girl as our first-born."
"Is there some special significance to having a daughter instead of a son?" Leia asked, puzzled.
Marina raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You don't know? No, of course not—Han would never have told you." Marina waved an arm towards the lights. "Haven't you noticed the proportion of males to females since you've been here? Only about one-tenth of Corellia's population consists of women, and most of them are from off-world. The experts aren't sure why—they think it has something to do with radiations in the atmosphere—but very few female babies are born here. Even off-worlders who come here are affected by it. The few women on Corellia tend to have as many children as they can just to keep the population stable. Having a marriage blessed by a female child is considered a sign of extreme good fortune."
Leia's eyes widened in astonishment. "So that explains why Corellia is such a military-oriented planet. But why don't the men simply move off-world? Or bring more off-world women here?"
Marina laughed. "Many of them do. Take Han, for instance. But Corellians also suffer from this affliction called 'pride.' This planet has the worst case of that disease that you will ever find, and Han and Taj suffer from it just as much as everyone else. That's why Han's court-martial was so painful for him, because it hurt his pride."
Leia looked back through the curtains where the men were sitting at the table. "I had often wondered," she said quietly, "why Corellians are such good ship-builders and pilots..."
"And Han is certainly one of the best. He was a Bloodstripe, you know. That's quite an accomplishment when you consider the pool that the elite military force has to draw from."
Leia turned away from the sliding glass doors to look at her hostess. "You sound like you're leading up to something."
Marina glanced over to where her husband and Han and Chewbacca were now deeply engrossed in conversation. "I guess I am, actually..."
-----
Chapter Nine
The seeker rose above Briande's head. Briande heard the slight wind it made as it moved, swung her lightsaber in the direction of the sound, and missed.
Luke sighed. He had blindfolded her for the exercise, trying to get her to stretch out with her feelings instead of her other senses. It was one of the first drills he had ever learned, but it was obviously not working on Briande.
Thinking back to his own training, Luke tried to think of how the lessons he had been given had matched his needs. He had been little more than a precocious school-boy then, strong with the Force, but wild and unfocused in its use. He had needed the discipline of Ben and Yoda's training to learn how to control it properly. Briande, on the other hand, already had the control—perhaps too much of it. What she needed was the energy, the strength.
But Luke had had no lessons in that to pass on to her now. All he had was Yoda's books, handwritten volumes bound in old-fashioned paper, difficult to read, not indexed, and not organized in any particular order.
Briande's training was a test for Luke as well. The only way to prevent the Jedi order from dying out was to train other knights, but such training was a serious business. Luke could not afford to have a single failure. He knew all too well what might happen if a single knight turned to the Dark Side.
He wondered, at times whether he shouldn't just face Briande's sister himself, and abandon the idea of training altogether. Perhaps the Jedi Knights were becoming obsolete for a reason. Perhaps, with the New Republic in power, it was only his own need that made him want to bring the order back.
The time when the Jedi Knights would no longer be needed should be a time of great rejoicing. Instead, as the last knight, he felt only a great loneliness.
He wanted to share the Jedi traditions with others, but he was not the gifted teacher that Ben or Yoda had been. Here he was with what should be the easiest pupil he could hope for—one who had already received some training—yet he could not get the simplest lessons across. Was he so selfish about his own desires that he could not give up the dream which his head told him he hadn't the talent to accomplish? For all his lessons, Briande seemed to be moving backwards—regressing instead of progressing. He wondered if it wouldn't be better to stop now, before he did any more damage, than to let things go on as they had been going.
On the other hand, it was possibly too soon to give up entirely. If what Briande was demonstrating now was the result of two years of steady training, then maybe he himself had been the exception to the rule. Maybe it did take years instead of months to train someone. He didn't know. He had nothing to compare with except his own experience.
Maybe he needed to rest from it for a while.
"All right," he said, deactivating the seekers. "Let's take a break for now."
"I don't really need one," Briande replied, holding her weapon at the ready. "Shouldn't I keep practicing?"
Luke shrugged. He had always been extremely grateful for whatever breaks Yoda would give him, yet Briande always seemed to resent them. "As you wish," he replied. He reactivated the seekers and set them on automatic. Then he watched for a moment as Briande swung at them blindly once more, before setting off down a lonely path to find a place to think.
The seeker rose above Briande's head. Briande heard the slight wind it made as it moved, swung her lightsaber in the direction of the sound, and missed.
Luke sighed. He had blindfolded her for the exercise, trying to get her to stretch out with her feelings instead of her other senses. It was one of the first drills he had ever learned, but it was obviously not working on Briande.
Thinking back to his own training, Luke tried to think of how the lessons he had been given had matched his needs. He had been little more than a precocious school-boy then, strong with the Force, but wild and unfocused in its use. He had needed the discipline of Ben and Yoda's training to learn how to control it properly. Briande, on the other hand, already had the control—perhaps too much of it. What she needed was the energy, the strength.
But Luke had had no lessons in that to pass on to her now. All he had was Yoda's books, handwritten volumes bound in old-fashioned paper, difficult to read, not indexed, and not organized in any particular order.
Briande's training was a test for Luke as well. The only way to prevent the Jedi order from dying out was to train other knights, but such training was a serious business. Luke could not afford to have a single failure. He knew all too well what might happen if a single knight turned to the Dark Side.
He wondered, at times whether he shouldn't just face Briande's sister himself, and abandon the idea of training altogether. Perhaps the Jedi Knights were becoming obsolete for a reason. Perhaps, with the New Republic in power, it was only his own need that made him want to bring the order back.
The time when the Jedi Knights would no longer be needed should be a time of great rejoicing. Instead, as the last knight, he felt only a great loneliness.
He wanted to share the Jedi traditions with others, but he was not the gifted teacher that Ben or Yoda had been. Here he was with what should be the easiest pupil he could hope for—one who had already received some training—yet he could not get the simplest lessons across. Was he so selfish about his own desires that he could not give up the dream which his head told him he hadn't the talent to accomplish? For all his lessons, Briande seemed to be moving backwards—regressing instead of progressing. He wondered if it wouldn't be better to stop now, before he did any more damage, than to let things go on as they had been going.
On the other hand, it was possibly too soon to give up entirely. If what Briande was demonstrating now was the result of two years of steady training, then maybe he himself had been the exception to the rule. Maybe it did take years instead of months to train someone. He didn't know. He had nothing to compare with except his own experience.
Maybe he needed to rest from it for a while.
"All right," he said, deactivating the seekers. "Let's take a break for now."
"I don't really need one," Briande replied, holding her weapon at the ready. "Shouldn't I keep practicing?"
Luke shrugged. He had always been extremely grateful for whatever breaks Yoda would give him, yet Briande always seemed to resent them. "As you wish," he replied. He reactivated the seekers and set them on automatic. Then he watched for a moment as Briande swung at them blindly once more, before setting off down a lonely path to find a place to think.
-----
Chapter Ten
"We're supposed to be married, you know," Leia reminded her husband.
"A fact which doesn't give you the right to tell me what to do!" Han returned.
"Being married means that any decision that affects the two of us, should be agreed to by the two of us. We already agreed that you would stay on Mimban and head the defense forces there."
"Things have changed since then."
"The Republic needs you."
"So do the Corellians. It's partly your own fault, you know. If you hadn't wanted to come and meet the old witch, all this never would have happened."
The lift doors opened and Han made a grand sweep with his arm. "Well here's your big chance, Sweetheart. The only reason I brought you here was because I knew you'd never give me any peace about it until I did."
Leia marched out, and Han followed. Chewbacca held back, anxious not to get involved in the argument. The Princess glanced back for directions, then headed for the indicated door and stood in front of it. "Have you ever considered that you may have made a mistake about her?"
"You'll see," Han promised, pressing the buzzer. He turned his face away from the panel where he knew the hidden television camera was concealed.
After a long moment, the door opened inwardly only enough to let a pair of contemptuous gray eyes peer out at them. Han's grandmother used an antique chain lock on the door instead of installing a second viewer—probably because it was cheaper. The eyes were set in a face with thin lips turned downward and lines that were etched into a permanent frown. It took the eyes a moment to recognize him, but when they did, the frown-lines deepened considerably.
"So you're back," the face said.
"It's nice to see you, too, Nana." Han replied dryly. Leia squeezed his arm in warning.
"What do you want?" the old woman asked.
"Do I have to want something? I just came to visit."
The old woman snorted. "I remember what happened the last time you and your monkey friend came to 'visit.' You'll get no money out of me this time."
She started to close the door, but Han held it open with his foot.
"Five minutes, Nana. That's all I want. Then I'll leave you alone for good."
"Han—" Leia said.
Han's grandmother gave up trying to close the door and peered at Leia suspiciously. "Who's that?"
Leia forced a smile. "How do you do, Ma'am. My name's Leia."
The old woman ignored the greeting and looked at Han. "What is she, a thief, pick-pocket, or just a call-girl?"
Han cleared his throat. "Nana, I'd like you to meet my...wife. Leia, this is my grandmother."
Leia put on her best diplomatic expression and waved secretly to Han to let her speak without interrupting. "Please forgive the intrusion, ma'am, but when Han told me about you, I was quite anxious to meet you. It's really my fault that we're disturbing you, but I hope you'll be able to spare us a few minutes." She indicated the ornate box she had been holding and added, "We've brought you a gift. May we come in?"
The old lady hesitated, then closed the door with Han unresisting this time. He started to turn to Leia with an 'I told you so' expression but he was surprised when the door opened again with the chain off. His grandmother held it open and stepped aside just barely enough to let them through.
"You'll get nothing from me," she warned.
"Thank you," Leia said warmly, as though she hadn't heard that last remark. "Oh—" she held out the box. "This is for you."
The old woman took the box as if she expected it to explode. Then she looked at Leia with narrowed eyes. "What is it?"
"It's an Alderaan tea-box. Where I come from, it's a...kind of tradition. Here, let me show you how to open it." Leia demonstrated by pushing a panel on the side. The lid slid back to reveal a drawer full of whitish-green dried leaves. The aroma that emerged when Leia opened the box was strangely familiar to Han, but he couldn't place it until, much to his surprise, his grandmother identified it.
"Tinsel," she said, looking at Leia.
Han sucked in his breath, remembering where he had come across that smell before. It was on a Kessel-run, when he had smuggled a small package of the stuff out of the spice-planet. Although the vast majority of his cargo had consisted of other spices, it was the tinsel that netted him most of the profit for that run. That stuff was expensive!
"I hope you like it," Leia said. "Han didn't tell me if you had a preference, so I used my own judgment."
The old woman closed the box. Her face wrinkled into an unreadable expression. "Wife, huh? When did that happen?"
"Not quite a week ago," Leia replied, putting on another smile. In some situations, Leia's smile could melt glaciers, but the effect was evidently lost on his grandmother.
"What'd you say your name was?"
"Leia. Leia Organa."
The old lady grunted, though whether it was because she recognized the name, or didn't recognize it, or recognized it but didn't believe that Leia was who she said she was, Han couldn't say.
"This is a lovely home," Leia said, fishing for something to say to cover up the uncomfortable silence that had fallen.
"No thanks to Han," the old lady replied. Her gaze was riveted to the far corner of the room where Chewbacca was emptying a candy dish with one swipe of his massive paw. In the Wookiee culture, it was considered impolite to set a dish of food out and not expect it to be eaten. But based on the disapproving stare with which his grandmother favored Han's friend, it was evident that she didn't know or appreciate Wookiee customs. Chewbacca, completely oblivious that he had caused any disfavor, began munching on the candies quietly, eating them from his hand—another gesture of Wookiee politeness that was lost on Han's grandmother.
Quick as a flash, Leia saw the problem and tried to distract the grandmother's attention from it. "Han tells me that you raised him."
"Hrmmph!" the old lady grunted.
"It must have been very difficult for you, living here by yourself and raising a child."
Han's grandmother finally turned away from Chewbacca, but now she turned her icy stare upon Han. "Difficult? That's a word for it."
Han met the gaze with a challenge. "You want to know what was difficult? Living with you under the same roof for thirteen years, that's what was—"
"Han!" Leia said sharply. Then she added in a milder tone as if she had simply intended to speak his name, "also tells me that I have you to thank for the lovely pendant he gave me as a wedding present."
"Pendant?" the old woman said, turning to look at Leia in surprise.
Leia smiled and unfastened the outer jacket of her outfit. There on her chest, gleaming against the dark forest-green of her tunic, was the crest. Han stared at the damn thing, wondering how in the name of all that was holy she had managed to put it on without his knowing it. He had specifically told her not to wear it.
"Was that inside the cube?" the old woman asked, turning to Han.
Han shrugged.
"And you kept it?" the old woman asked in disbelief. "I would have thought you'd sell it the first chance you got."
Han decided definitely that he should have. Especially when Leia said, "Did you know that it used to belong to one of the royal families on Peruvis?"
Nana Solo turned to look at Leia with narrow eyes. "What?"
"May I ask how you obtained it?" Leia asked.
The old lady shrugged. "I found it in my daughter's things after she died."
Leia moved to a curio cabinet and looked at the holographic cube that was in the center of the shelf. "Was that her?" she asked.
The picture showed a smiling young woman with thick shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. She bore no resemblance to the man that
Leia had married.
For a split second, Han thought his grandmother's face softened a little, but when he looked again to try and tell for sure, all he saw was hardened stone.
"That's her."
"What was she like?" Leia asked.
"She was an ungrateful brat," the old woman replied sourly. "Left one day, declaring she was going off-world to make her fortune, then showed up on my doorstep a few years later with young Han in tow. Just like that, she expected me to take them in. I took that holo just before she went off world. She never let me take a likeness of her or Han after she came back."
"How strange," Leia murmured, looking over at Han.
Han decided finally that enough was enough. "Well, well," he said, looking pointedly at his chronometer. "Our five minutes are up, and we have lots to do. We won't bother you any more, Nana. Thanks for letting us in."
"But we haven't got any—" Leia started to protest.
Han grabbed her by the arm and literally dragged her to the door. "Thanks again, Nana. Chewie—"
The Wookiee woofed some sort of good-bye and moved to the door. Leia had no choice but to follow. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I really wish we could have had more time to talk," she finished the sentence by glaring at her husband angrily.
"Yes, well, time flies when you're having fun," Han said cheerfully, ignoring the fire in the Princess' eyes. "So long, Nana."
He pulled Leia through the door.
"We'll come back and visit soon!" Leia promised just as the door shut.
The closed door muffled Han's reply.
"We're supposed to be married, you know," Leia reminded her husband.
"A fact which doesn't give you the right to tell me what to do!" Han returned.
"Being married means that any decision that affects the two of us, should be agreed to by the two of us. We already agreed that you would stay on Mimban and head the defense forces there."
"Things have changed since then."
"The Republic needs you."
"So do the Corellians. It's partly your own fault, you know. If you hadn't wanted to come and meet the old witch, all this never would have happened."
The lift doors opened and Han made a grand sweep with his arm. "Well here's your big chance, Sweetheart. The only reason I brought you here was because I knew you'd never give me any peace about it until I did."
Leia marched out, and Han followed. Chewbacca held back, anxious not to get involved in the argument. The Princess glanced back for directions, then headed for the indicated door and stood in front of it. "Have you ever considered that you may have made a mistake about her?"
"You'll see," Han promised, pressing the buzzer. He turned his face away from the panel where he knew the hidden television camera was concealed.
After a long moment, the door opened inwardly only enough to let a pair of contemptuous gray eyes peer out at them. Han's grandmother used an antique chain lock on the door instead of installing a second viewer—probably because it was cheaper. The eyes were set in a face with thin lips turned downward and lines that were etched into a permanent frown. It took the eyes a moment to recognize him, but when they did, the frown-lines deepened considerably.
"So you're back," the face said.
"It's nice to see you, too, Nana." Han replied dryly. Leia squeezed his arm in warning.
"What do you want?" the old woman asked.
"Do I have to want something? I just came to visit."
The old woman snorted. "I remember what happened the last time you and your monkey friend came to 'visit.' You'll get no money out of me this time."
She started to close the door, but Han held it open with his foot.
"Five minutes, Nana. That's all I want. Then I'll leave you alone for good."
"Han—" Leia said.
Han's grandmother gave up trying to close the door and peered at Leia suspiciously. "Who's that?"
Leia forced a smile. "How do you do, Ma'am. My name's Leia."
The old woman ignored the greeting and looked at Han. "What is she, a thief, pick-pocket, or just a call-girl?"
Han cleared his throat. "Nana, I'd like you to meet my...wife. Leia, this is my grandmother."
Leia put on her best diplomatic expression and waved secretly to Han to let her speak without interrupting. "Please forgive the intrusion, ma'am, but when Han told me about you, I was quite anxious to meet you. It's really my fault that we're disturbing you, but I hope you'll be able to spare us a few minutes." She indicated the ornate box she had been holding and added, "We've brought you a gift. May we come in?"
The old lady hesitated, then closed the door with Han unresisting this time. He started to turn to Leia with an 'I told you so' expression but he was surprised when the door opened again with the chain off. His grandmother held it open and stepped aside just barely enough to let them through.
"You'll get nothing from me," she warned.
"Thank you," Leia said warmly, as though she hadn't heard that last remark. "Oh—" she held out the box. "This is for you."
The old woman took the box as if she expected it to explode. Then she looked at Leia with narrowed eyes. "What is it?"
"It's an Alderaan tea-box. Where I come from, it's a...kind of tradition. Here, let me show you how to open it." Leia demonstrated by pushing a panel on the side. The lid slid back to reveal a drawer full of whitish-green dried leaves. The aroma that emerged when Leia opened the box was strangely familiar to Han, but he couldn't place it until, much to his surprise, his grandmother identified it.
"Tinsel," she said, looking at Leia.
Han sucked in his breath, remembering where he had come across that smell before. It was on a Kessel-run, when he had smuggled a small package of the stuff out of the spice-planet. Although the vast majority of his cargo had consisted of other spices, it was the tinsel that netted him most of the profit for that run. That stuff was expensive!
"I hope you like it," Leia said. "Han didn't tell me if you had a preference, so I used my own judgment."
The old woman closed the box. Her face wrinkled into an unreadable expression. "Wife, huh? When did that happen?"
"Not quite a week ago," Leia replied, putting on another smile. In some situations, Leia's smile could melt glaciers, but the effect was evidently lost on his grandmother.
"What'd you say your name was?"
"Leia. Leia Organa."
The old lady grunted, though whether it was because she recognized the name, or didn't recognize it, or recognized it but didn't believe that Leia was who she said she was, Han couldn't say.
"This is a lovely home," Leia said, fishing for something to say to cover up the uncomfortable silence that had fallen.
"No thanks to Han," the old lady replied. Her gaze was riveted to the far corner of the room where Chewbacca was emptying a candy dish with one swipe of his massive paw. In the Wookiee culture, it was considered impolite to set a dish of food out and not expect it to be eaten. But based on the disapproving stare with which his grandmother favored Han's friend, it was evident that she didn't know or appreciate Wookiee customs. Chewbacca, completely oblivious that he had caused any disfavor, began munching on the candies quietly, eating them from his hand—another gesture of Wookiee politeness that was lost on Han's grandmother.
Quick as a flash, Leia saw the problem and tried to distract the grandmother's attention from it. "Han tells me that you raised him."
"Hrmmph!" the old lady grunted.
"It must have been very difficult for you, living here by yourself and raising a child."
Han's grandmother finally turned away from Chewbacca, but now she turned her icy stare upon Han. "Difficult? That's a word for it."
Han met the gaze with a challenge. "You want to know what was difficult? Living with you under the same roof for thirteen years, that's what was—"
"Han!" Leia said sharply. Then she added in a milder tone as if she had simply intended to speak his name, "also tells me that I have you to thank for the lovely pendant he gave me as a wedding present."
"Pendant?" the old woman said, turning to look at Leia in surprise.
Leia smiled and unfastened the outer jacket of her outfit. There on her chest, gleaming against the dark forest-green of her tunic, was the crest. Han stared at the damn thing, wondering how in the name of all that was holy she had managed to put it on without his knowing it. He had specifically told her not to wear it.
"Was that inside the cube?" the old woman asked, turning to Han.
Han shrugged.
"And you kept it?" the old woman asked in disbelief. "I would have thought you'd sell it the first chance you got."
Han decided definitely that he should have. Especially when Leia said, "Did you know that it used to belong to one of the royal families on Peruvis?"
Nana Solo turned to look at Leia with narrow eyes. "What?"
"May I ask how you obtained it?" Leia asked.
The old lady shrugged. "I found it in my daughter's things after she died."
Leia moved to a curio cabinet and looked at the holographic cube that was in the center of the shelf. "Was that her?" she asked.
The picture showed a smiling young woman with thick shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. She bore no resemblance to the man that
Leia had married.
For a split second, Han thought his grandmother's face softened a little, but when he looked again to try and tell for sure, all he saw was hardened stone.
"That's her."
"What was she like?" Leia asked.
"She was an ungrateful brat," the old woman replied sourly. "Left one day, declaring she was going off-world to make her fortune, then showed up on my doorstep a few years later with young Han in tow. Just like that, she expected me to take them in. I took that holo just before she went off world. She never let me take a likeness of her or Han after she came back."
"How strange," Leia murmured, looking over at Han.
Han decided finally that enough was enough. "Well, well," he said, looking pointedly at his chronometer. "Our five minutes are up, and we have lots to do. We won't bother you any more, Nana. Thanks for letting us in."
"But we haven't got any—" Leia started to protest.
Han grabbed her by the arm and literally dragged her to the door. "Thanks again, Nana. Chewie—"
The Wookiee woofed some sort of good-bye and moved to the door. Leia had no choice but to follow. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I really wish we could have had more time to talk," she finished the sentence by glaring at her husband angrily.
"Yes, well, time flies when you're having fun," Han said cheerfully, ignoring the fire in the Princess' eyes. "So long, Nana."
He pulled Leia through the door.
"We'll come back and visit soon!" Leia promised just as the door shut.
The closed door muffled Han's reply.
-----
Chapter Eleven
Luke awoke from his sleep with a shiver. He felt it again, the cold disturbance in the Force. Very faint, but very near. So near that he could almost reach out and touch it. Another consciousness, unfamiliar, yet he thought somehow that he should know it.
Very, very near.
Like a whisper.
He stood up slowly and took a tentative step in the direction of the feeling. Inside, he already knew where the cold tingling would lead him. He could feel the fear crawling up the back of his neck, but pushed it back to the recesses from which it had come. He had to face it, whatever it was, and confront it.
He followed it out, to the north end of the hut where a large patch of comfortable moss grew in profusion. Briande was asleep, wrapped up in her blanket, but her lips were moving as if caught up in some sort of dream, and she was moaning and writhing as if in pain.
Uncertain of what to expect, Luke knelt down beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. Even through her heavy clothing, he could feel that her body was like ice.
He shook her gently. "Briande—"
"Luke..." she moaned. "Help me, Luke..."
"I'm here, Briande. What is it?"
Suddenly, with a quickness that made Luke pull back reflexively, she gasped and sat bolt upright. Her eyes stared straight ahead with a wild, unfocused gaze.
"Briande, what's the matter? Are you ill?"
Slowly, without focusing on him, she turned to face Luke. "Ill?" Her voice sounded from a million miles away.
Skywalker searched her face worriedly. "You called out to me for help. Help you how?"
For the first time, Briande seemed to take notice of her surroundings. Luke could see emotions playing over her face as she became aware of her environment. Confusion, fear, then embarrassment, only visible for a brief moment before she pulled a mask over everything. "I'm sorry. I must have been dreaming."
"You've seemed very tired lately, as if you haven't been getting enough sleep. Are you sure there's nothing wrong?" He started to reach out to feel the temperature of her forehead, but she pulled away.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been sleeping like a rock. Really, I'm fine."
Luke nodded and stood up. "Maybe it was just a bad dream, after all. You're welcome to spend the rest of the night indoors, if you want."
Briande smiled slightly, as if amused by his suggestion, as if Luke was the one who was acting strangely. "I'm not a child, Luke."
No, the Jedi agreed silently. But at the same time, he noted a certain child-like vulnerability about her. Her breathing when she woke up had been heavy and irregular, like that of a frightened child. He wanted to comfort her, but her manner made it clear that she would take offense at that.
Luke nodded. "Good night, then, Briande. Sleep well."
She gave an answering nod and Luke went back inside, aware that most of the chill he had felt in the Force had dissipated since Briande woke up. Perhaps it had been just a dream, like she had said, though he had never encountered anything like that before, not even in his own nightmares.
But he still felt a faint trace of the tingling.
At the same time, Luke felt something calling him back to Briande, as if she herself were actually calling his name. He decided that it was just his imagination. Briande was a very attractive woman, after all, and there was some part of him that selfishly wanted her to want him.
Luke sighed and reminded himself that Briande was merely his pupil, and nothing more.
He just wished he were a better teacher.
Luke awoke from his sleep with a shiver. He felt it again, the cold disturbance in the Force. Very faint, but very near. So near that he could almost reach out and touch it. Another consciousness, unfamiliar, yet he thought somehow that he should know it.
Very, very near.
Like a whisper.
He stood up slowly and took a tentative step in the direction of the feeling. Inside, he already knew where the cold tingling would lead him. He could feel the fear crawling up the back of his neck, but pushed it back to the recesses from which it had come. He had to face it, whatever it was, and confront it.
He followed it out, to the north end of the hut where a large patch of comfortable moss grew in profusion. Briande was asleep, wrapped up in her blanket, but her lips were moving as if caught up in some sort of dream, and she was moaning and writhing as if in pain.
Uncertain of what to expect, Luke knelt down beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. Even through her heavy clothing, he could feel that her body was like ice.
He shook her gently. "Briande—"
"Luke..." she moaned. "Help me, Luke..."
"I'm here, Briande. What is it?"
Suddenly, with a quickness that made Luke pull back reflexively, she gasped and sat bolt upright. Her eyes stared straight ahead with a wild, unfocused gaze.
"Briande, what's the matter? Are you ill?"
Slowly, without focusing on him, she turned to face Luke. "Ill?" Her voice sounded from a million miles away.
Skywalker searched her face worriedly. "You called out to me for help. Help you how?"
For the first time, Briande seemed to take notice of her surroundings. Luke could see emotions playing over her face as she became aware of her environment. Confusion, fear, then embarrassment, only visible for a brief moment before she pulled a mask over everything. "I'm sorry. I must have been dreaming."
"You've seemed very tired lately, as if you haven't been getting enough sleep. Are you sure there's nothing wrong?" He started to reach out to feel the temperature of her forehead, but she pulled away.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been sleeping like a rock. Really, I'm fine."
Luke nodded and stood up. "Maybe it was just a bad dream, after all. You're welcome to spend the rest of the night indoors, if you want."
Briande smiled slightly, as if amused by his suggestion, as if Luke was the one who was acting strangely. "I'm not a child, Luke."
No, the Jedi agreed silently. But at the same time, he noted a certain child-like vulnerability about her. Her breathing when she woke up had been heavy and irregular, like that of a frightened child. He wanted to comfort her, but her manner made it clear that she would take offense at that.
Luke nodded. "Good night, then, Briande. Sleep well."
She gave an answering nod and Luke went back inside, aware that most of the chill he had felt in the Force had dissipated since Briande woke up. Perhaps it had been just a dream, like she had said, though he had never encountered anything like that before, not even in his own nightmares.
But he still felt a faint trace of the tingling.
At the same time, Luke felt something calling him back to Briande, as if she herself were actually calling his name. He decided that it was just his imagination. Briande was a very attractive woman, after all, and there was some part of him that selfishly wanted her to want him.
Luke sighed and reminded himself that Briande was merely his pupil, and nothing more.
He just wished he were a better teacher.
-----
Chapter Twelve
Leia stood at the door a little nervously. She knew that Han would never approve of what she was doing here, but she herself would not rest easily until she had done it.
The door finally opened, and Han's grandmother smiled at her with a stretching of the mouth that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was so pleased to get your message," she said silkily. "Won't you come in?"
"Uh, thank you," Leia said, a little startled at the reception, but taking it in stride. She hadn't expected much pleasantness at all from the old woman and had come prepared to deal with a cranky, bitter old grandmother.
"Won't you sit down? I've made some tea for us."
"That would be lovely," Leia said, still a little unsure what to make of this sudden change.
While her hostess disappeared into the kitchen, Leia contemplated the holographic cube in the curio cabinet. Now that she had the chance to study it closely, she could maybe see some resemblance between the woman in the picture and Han. Not in the eyes or color of the hair, of course, but perhaps in the angle of the nose...
Of course, the slight similarities could also be just a coincidence.
Nana Solo reappeared with the tea, and Leia moved away from the cabinet to sit down on the sofa. She noted with surprise that her new in-law had brewed some of the tinsel. After what Han had told her, she would have expected the old woman to hoard the stuff. There were also some cakes of some sort on the tray. Well, it just went to prove that sometimes you could be wrong about people. She wished Han were here to see it.
But she also decided, based on the disapproving stare that Han's grandmother had given Chewbacca before, that a single cake and a single cup of tea would be enough.
"Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Solo," Leia said. "We hardly got the chance to talk last time."
"That was none of my doing," the old woman said. Then she smiled again. "But here we are, now."
Leia set her teacup down and leaned forward. "Mrs. Solo, may I get right to the point? I know that you and Han have had your differences, but I really think that he wants to be on good terms with you. His pride sometimes gets in the way of what he wants, though."
The old woman suddenly became bitter again. "Pride? Not a word from him for years, until he wanted money to get away. The next day I heard on the news broadcast that he'd gotten court-martialed out of the military. Then nothing out of him again until the day before yesterday."
"I'm sure that you've heard by now that Han was accused unjustly. He uncovered a scheme that was draining money out of the military resources, then was set-up to take the fall himself when he tried to take action against the guilty parties."
"You'd think he'd have the decency to tell me that himself."
Leia sighed. "I know. But I'm sure that if you told him how much you wanted to see him, he'd come around."
"If he wants to see me, he knows where the door is."
"Mrs. Solo, family members shouldn't be on non-speaking terms with each other."
"I agree."
"Then what can I do to help? If it's money Han owes you, I'll gladly—"
"Money, huh!" the old woman snorted. "All I ever wanted was a little consideration. Saying he's sorry for the way he's treated me would be a good place to start."
"Mrs. Solo," Leia said carefully, "I think I know Han well enough to say that if there's going to be any reconciliation, you'll have to make the first move. He's not totally unreasonable, but it's hard for him to apologize."
"Well, I have nothing to apologize for."
Leia's eyebrows furrowed. "Mrs. Solo, don't you think that—"
"—But forgive me," the old lady said, suddenly painting on her false smile again. "I forgot who I was talking to. The fact that Han married you shows that maybe there's hope for him yet. Never could stand those bums he hangs out with—especially that monkey friend of his."
"Perhaps once you got to know Chewbacca, you might change your mind."
"Not likely. Han's friends have no more sense of responsibility than he has. Or that his mother had."
"I think he's got more of a sense of responsibility than you give him credit for. Did you know that he led the ground forces in the Battle of Endor? He was a trusted leader in the Alliance, and is equally valuable to the New Republic."
"There must have been some profit in it for him somewhere. That's why he married you, isn't it?"
"Excuse me?" Leia said.
"Well, at first I thought you were a confidence artist or something. But then I had you checked out and found out that you were the Princess of Alderaan."
"You had me checked out?" Leia asked incredulously.
"Naturally. Someone in your position should be able to understand that. I also checked out that story you told me about the pendant you're wearing. You know, there's a blood test that will show if he really is from the house of Peruvis. If so, there are still a few assets left he could lay claim to. Nothing like a princess would have, of course, but at least his blood-line would be something respectable."
"For your information," Leia said, rising along with her temper, "Han didn't marry me for my money. Most of it vanished along with Alderaan. And if you stopped adding assets and liabilities long enough to look at Han for what he is, you might notice that he's stuck his neck out more than once to fight for something that had nothing to do with his personal safety or comfort. And as for that 'monkey' friend of his—Chewbacca is one of the most loyal and trustworthy companions that anyone could ever hope for!"
Leia strode angrily to the door, leaving Han's grandmother to gape after her speechlessly. Just as Leia opened the door, she turned around and offered a parting shot. "You know, I was curious about Han's lineage, but I'm hardly in a position to make an issue of it. I was adopted by the Viceroy of Alderaan—he wasn't my real father. It might surprise you to know who my real father was!"
Saying that, Leia Organa-Solo, the Princess of Alderaan, pulled the chain with the Cressola family crest off from around her neck, threw it on the floor, and left.
.
.
.
Han tinkered with the new rotating canon he'd just installed on the Falcon's belly-turret. He'd been considering replacing the old one for a while, and the opportunity to get a genuine Corellian-manufactured one was too sweet to pass up.
"Han—" a voice said from behind him.
"Yeah, Leia, what is it?" he asked, without turning around.
"Han, can I talk to you for a minute?"
The Corellian tightened a loose wire, pouring all his attention into it. "Yeah, I'm listening. What is it?"
"Can I talk with you face to face?"
Han sighed with resignation and turned to look at her. "What is it?"
Leia hesitated. "Do you—I mean, have you decided whether or not to accept Taj's offer?"
He gave her an expression that said 'you interrupted me for this?' but aloud he said, "No, I haven't decided yet," and turned back to his work.
"Han—"
He turned again with a look of exasperation. "What?"
"Why did you marry me?"
He was flustered. "Well, because."
"Because why?"
"I don't know. Just because." He turned back to his work.
"Do you love me?"
He turned long enough to flash a leering grin. "You know I do, Sweetheart."
"That's not what I meant!" Leia exclaimed, and ran up the gangplank.
Han turned and saw the empty place where Leia had been standing. "Well what the hell do you mean?" he called after her.
Leia stood at the door a little nervously. She knew that Han would never approve of what she was doing here, but she herself would not rest easily until she had done it.
The door finally opened, and Han's grandmother smiled at her with a stretching of the mouth that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was so pleased to get your message," she said silkily. "Won't you come in?"
"Uh, thank you," Leia said, a little startled at the reception, but taking it in stride. She hadn't expected much pleasantness at all from the old woman and had come prepared to deal with a cranky, bitter old grandmother.
"Won't you sit down? I've made some tea for us."
"That would be lovely," Leia said, still a little unsure what to make of this sudden change.
While her hostess disappeared into the kitchen, Leia contemplated the holographic cube in the curio cabinet. Now that she had the chance to study it closely, she could maybe see some resemblance between the woman in the picture and Han. Not in the eyes or color of the hair, of course, but perhaps in the angle of the nose...
Of course, the slight similarities could also be just a coincidence.
Nana Solo reappeared with the tea, and Leia moved away from the cabinet to sit down on the sofa. She noted with surprise that her new in-law had brewed some of the tinsel. After what Han had told her, she would have expected the old woman to hoard the stuff. There were also some cakes of some sort on the tray. Well, it just went to prove that sometimes you could be wrong about people. She wished Han were here to see it.
But she also decided, based on the disapproving stare that Han's grandmother had given Chewbacca before, that a single cake and a single cup of tea would be enough.
"Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Solo," Leia said. "We hardly got the chance to talk last time."
"That was none of my doing," the old woman said. Then she smiled again. "But here we are, now."
Leia set her teacup down and leaned forward. "Mrs. Solo, may I get right to the point? I know that you and Han have had your differences, but I really think that he wants to be on good terms with you. His pride sometimes gets in the way of what he wants, though."
The old woman suddenly became bitter again. "Pride? Not a word from him for years, until he wanted money to get away. The next day I heard on the news broadcast that he'd gotten court-martialed out of the military. Then nothing out of him again until the day before yesterday."
"I'm sure that you've heard by now that Han was accused unjustly. He uncovered a scheme that was draining money out of the military resources, then was set-up to take the fall himself when he tried to take action against the guilty parties."
"You'd think he'd have the decency to tell me that himself."
Leia sighed. "I know. But I'm sure that if you told him how much you wanted to see him, he'd come around."
"If he wants to see me, he knows where the door is."
"Mrs. Solo, family members shouldn't be on non-speaking terms with each other."
"I agree."
"Then what can I do to help? If it's money Han owes you, I'll gladly—"
"Money, huh!" the old woman snorted. "All I ever wanted was a little consideration. Saying he's sorry for the way he's treated me would be a good place to start."
"Mrs. Solo," Leia said carefully, "I think I know Han well enough to say that if there's going to be any reconciliation, you'll have to make the first move. He's not totally unreasonable, but it's hard for him to apologize."
"Well, I have nothing to apologize for."
Leia's eyebrows furrowed. "Mrs. Solo, don't you think that—"
"—But forgive me," the old lady said, suddenly painting on her false smile again. "I forgot who I was talking to. The fact that Han married you shows that maybe there's hope for him yet. Never could stand those bums he hangs out with—especially that monkey friend of his."
"Perhaps once you got to know Chewbacca, you might change your mind."
"Not likely. Han's friends have no more sense of responsibility than he has. Or that his mother had."
"I think he's got more of a sense of responsibility than you give him credit for. Did you know that he led the ground forces in the Battle of Endor? He was a trusted leader in the Alliance, and is equally valuable to the New Republic."
"There must have been some profit in it for him somewhere. That's why he married you, isn't it?"
"Excuse me?" Leia said.
"Well, at first I thought you were a confidence artist or something. But then I had you checked out and found out that you were the Princess of Alderaan."
"You had me checked out?" Leia asked incredulously.
"Naturally. Someone in your position should be able to understand that. I also checked out that story you told me about the pendant you're wearing. You know, there's a blood test that will show if he really is from the house of Peruvis. If so, there are still a few assets left he could lay claim to. Nothing like a princess would have, of course, but at least his blood-line would be something respectable."
"For your information," Leia said, rising along with her temper, "Han didn't marry me for my money. Most of it vanished along with Alderaan. And if you stopped adding assets and liabilities long enough to look at Han for what he is, you might notice that he's stuck his neck out more than once to fight for something that had nothing to do with his personal safety or comfort. And as for that 'monkey' friend of his—Chewbacca is one of the most loyal and trustworthy companions that anyone could ever hope for!"
Leia strode angrily to the door, leaving Han's grandmother to gape after her speechlessly. Just as Leia opened the door, she turned around and offered a parting shot. "You know, I was curious about Han's lineage, but I'm hardly in a position to make an issue of it. I was adopted by the Viceroy of Alderaan—he wasn't my real father. It might surprise you to know who my real father was!"
Saying that, Leia Organa-Solo, the Princess of Alderaan, pulled the chain with the Cressola family crest off from around her neck, threw it on the floor, and left.
.
.
.
Han tinkered with the new rotating canon he'd just installed on the Falcon's belly-turret. He'd been considering replacing the old one for a while, and the opportunity to get a genuine Corellian-manufactured one was too sweet to pass up.
"Han—" a voice said from behind him.
"Yeah, Leia, what is it?" he asked, without turning around.
"Han, can I talk to you for a minute?"
The Corellian tightened a loose wire, pouring all his attention into it. "Yeah, I'm listening. What is it?"
"Can I talk with you face to face?"
Han sighed with resignation and turned to look at her. "What is it?"
Leia hesitated. "Do you—I mean, have you decided whether or not to accept Taj's offer?"
He gave her an expression that said 'you interrupted me for this?' but aloud he said, "No, I haven't decided yet," and turned back to his work.
"Han—"
He turned again with a look of exasperation. "What?"
"Why did you marry me?"
He was flustered. "Well, because."
"Because why?"
"I don't know. Just because." He turned back to his work.
"Do you love me?"
He turned long enough to flash a leering grin. "You know I do, Sweetheart."
"That's not what I meant!" Leia exclaimed, and ran up the gangplank.
Han turned and saw the empty place where Leia had been standing. "Well what the hell do you mean?" he called after her.
-----
Chapter Thirteen
It had rained before when Luke had been on Dagobah, but never as hard as it was doing now. It was as if the skies had opened up, and giant cargo-holds of water were being dumped on the ground below. And the weather was not only soaking wet, it was also uncharacteristically cold. The rain couldn't penetrate the little stone hut, of course, but the chill and the dampness did.
Usually Briande slept outside. Since it was comfortable enough out there if one had a blanket, Luke had merely shrugged at her decision and let her be. He himself had spent many nights on that very same patch of moss. But tonight, the elements forced his student indoors. Even so, Luke thought he detected just the barest hesitation before she entered the small dwelling.
Ever since the night he had awakened to find Briande shivering with the Force, he had often checked on her while she was supposed to be sleeping, and each time he found her caught up in the same dream-like restlessness that she had been in before. If it was a dream, she couldn't seem to remember any of it when she woke up. But whatever it was, the cold, faint chill in the Force always accompanied it. Briande herself seemed to have no idea of what was happening. Whenever Luke questioned her about it, she always insisted that she felt fine and had been sleeping like a torrel in hibernation.
But despite her words, Briande seemed to grow more and more fatigued over the days until now she was on the edge of exhaustion, dangerously so. She tried to hide the outward signs, but Luke was too much of a Jedi not to see through the deception.
It was a puzzle Luke couldn't find the answer to. In truth, he wasn't even sure what the question was. There were too many pieces missing to get even a vague idea of the picture.
He had tried teaching Briande the techniques for deep-relaxation, but with no visible results. Even extending her sleep periods didn't seem to help. Something was draining her of her physical and mental energies, and he didn't know what it was.
Luke had not been at all pleased with Briande's performance with the seekers earlier in the day. She had relied too much on physical prowess. She used her physical senses, not the Force; she reacted with her brain, not with her feelings. She was just a fraction too slow, and a fraction too short of the mark. She would have done quite well for a non-sensitive. But for a Jedi Knight, "not bad" wasn't good enough. And over the course of the training, her abilities had deteriorated, not improved.
As for the verbal aspects of her training, Briande was a quick pupil. She could repeat any of the lessons Luke had given her, practically word for word. She learned them well—but only in the sense of committing them to memory and being able to recall them again later. They were not a part of her in the way that they were all a part of Luke. They meant nothing to her, and Luke didn't know how to help her make the connections.
He had intended to use the time tonight for a short lesson on the history of the Jedi, but Briande's fatigue was worse than ever, despite her protests to the contrary, and he realized that she probably already knew everything he wanted to say—possibly better than he did himself. He decided that the time would be put to much better use if she were to rest.
Skywalker glanced over at the corner where his student was undoing the strings of her bedroll. "You'd be much warmer over here," he suggested, nodding to the area in front of the fireplace where his own blanket was spread out.
She stopped struggling with a knot long enough to look at him. "I'll be fine here," she said.
Luke shrugged mentally and went over to help her with her bedroll. As he knelt down beside her, he put his hand on her back.
Briande stiffened at the unexpected touch, only slightly, but Luke caught it. He watched with surprise as she purposefully busied herself with the knot.
His action had been made unconsciously, without thinking, but Briande's reaction suggested that there was more in the meaningless little gesture than there actually was.
"Briande, what's wrong?"
She glanced up at him for just a second, then looked away. "I'm sorry, Luke. It won't happen again."
"What are you afraid of?"
"Nothing. I—I just don't like to be touched, that's all."
"Don't like to be touched?" He stared at her.
"I wasn't ready for it that time. Like I said, it won't happen again."
Luke felt both awkward and perplexed. To him, touching was a natural and necessary thing. It satisfied a basic need that he thought was common to all humans. With the clarity of hindsight, he thought back to the few times during the course of Briande's training when they had touched, and realized that even on those occasions when necessity had required it, it had always been Luke who initiated the contact.
"Briande, I wasn't trying to seduce you."
"I know."
His hand wavered between reaching out to her and dropping to his side, until, deliberately, he laid his hand on her back again. But this time—as promised—there was nothing. Not a flicker of reaction. He withdrew his hand again.
"Why don't you like to be touched?" he asked.
"I just don't."
"There must be a reason."
Briande shrugged. "People don't touch me, I don't touch them." She bent over her knot again.
"Briande—" Luke began. He shifted his focus of attention for a moment, listening to an inward voice, then asked, "Briande, your father. Just how badly did Vader cripple him?"
He could see her muscles contract as she stopped her work. Then she nodded slowly, stoically, and turned around to face him. "Very perceptive of you, Luke. All of his limbs were completely severed. There wasn't even enough left to attach bionics to."
Luke was shocked. "Nothing? Surely they must have been able to do something..."
Briande looked away. "Oh, yes, there was something. They managed to give him some metal prosthetics. Not as functional as bionics, of course, but it still would have been enough if he'd—" She stopped suddenly, as if realizing the level of anger and bitterness that had crept into her voice.
"If he'd what?"
Briande Brellis cleared her throat, then continued on in a matter-of-fact voice. She was telling him only because he had asked, not because she herself wanted to share. If anything, she seemed to regret having told him so much already. "If he'd ever wanted to show any physical affection. I used to try to convince Brenna that he still loved us, that there was only something...locking him up inside since our mother was killed. I kept telling her that he'd get over it, but he never did. Except for lessons and studies, he never even spoke to us."
The Jedi looked at her with compassion. "It must have been very difficult for you," he said.
"Brenna and I still had each other."
"I thought you and your sister were enemies," Luke said, puzzled.
Briande shook her head. "Not always. Growing up, Brenna and I were more than just sisters. We became...compassiatos—what you might translate as 'best friends,' but more than that. We did everything together. We even—" She stopped and gave him a wry, rueful expression. "We even both started working for the Rebellion together."
Luke was surprised. But then he remembered that Darth Vader had once been Anakin Skywalker, before he turned to the Dark Side. When it was clear that Briande wasn't going to say anything more, Luke urged her on. "Tell me about her. What was she like?"
Briande was silent for another long moment and looked off into the distance. A slight, sad smile came as she remembered. It was only a trace of a smile, but Luke realized that it was the first genuine, unbidden one he had seen.
"Brenna was...a free spirit. Everything was a game to her. She even thought of our work as a game, receiving secret messages on behalf of the Rebellion and passing them on to people she didn't know. She didn't seem to realize how dangerous it was, and she ignored all my warnings to be careful. She took greater and greater risks, in exchange for more valuable information. More risks than I was willing to take. And she loved playing jokes on people. Sometimes when we were children, she would convince me to trade places with her. We knew each other and could imitate each other so well, that no one except our father could tell us apart, and sometimes we could even fool him. Once, she—" Briande's voice trailed off suddenly, and the almost-invisible smile vanished from her face.
"What?" Skywalker asked gently.
Briande turned away again. "One day it stopped being a game." Abruptly, she changed the topic. "You said you were going to tell me something about the original Jedi, Je-he-di, you said they were called."
Luke smiled slightly and shook his head, as much at his own actions as in answer to her change of topic. Even thinking in terms of Briande's sister, he'd been focusing on his and Briande's similarities, when he should have been focusing on their differences. Luke had never wanted for affection from his Aunt Beru. Even Uncle Owen, who had always been more reserved, had been a genuinely caring parent. If the only affection Briande had known was between herself and her sister, it must have been an incredible blow for her when her sister turned to the Dark Side. No wonder she did so poorly in the training. She saw it as preparation to destroy the only human being she had ever loved. In fact, she had told him as much. She had told him that she didn't want to be here, that she was only here because she had to be. He just hadn't been listening in ways that he should have..
As for the sense of comfort that human touch created, if Briande had never really experienced it, then she couldn't know that it was a good thing. He held out his hand to her. Sometimes, before moving ahead, it was necessary to go back to the beginning. "Briande, I want you to spend the night with me."
She whirled to face him, saw the hand, and panic came into her eyes as she realized what he meant to do. "I can't, Luke."
"Why not?"
"I—I just can't!" She turned away.
"I'm not asking you to do anything more. I just want you to spend the night with me, that's all." He put his hands on her shoulders. Now that he was looking for it, he could feel her body give a slight tremor—not quite a shudder—as he touched her.
She pulled away. "I don't want to."
"You're free to leave Dagobah any time you want," he replied.
She bit her lip at the ultimatum. "Luke, it was Darth Vader who did that to my father."
"I am not Darth Vader."
"You're his son."
Luke sighed. "Make up your mind, Briande. Stay with me, or abandon the training." He held his hand out to her again. It was her choice, but it had to be made. He couldn't teach her to move ahead until she unchained herself from her past.
Briande swallowed and slowly, tentatively, put her hand in his. She didn't look at him.
Luke clasped her cold, unresponsive fingers warmly and led her to the wall near the fireplace. She offered no resistance, but her movements were stiff and unnatural.
"This is silly," she stated.
"Maybe," Skywalker said, conceding no more than that. He applied a soft, insistent pressure on her shoulders, and Briande slid down with her back to the wall. Luke seated himself beside her comfortably.
"I still don't think this is such a good idea."
Luke said nothing, but wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. He wanted to take her back to her girlhood and give her the warmth of the physical affection she had been deprived of.
"Luke, I—"
"Shhh..." he whispered. With his free hand, he began stroking the side of her head. Luke could feel her stiffness and her tension as she forced herself to endure his touch. He brought his hand to the top of her head and let it slide down slowly, over the smooth lump where her ear was, down to her neck, then lifted his hand to repeat the stroke in a slow, gentle rhythm. There was no thought of having her return the touch; she was already much too uncomfortable. He thought only of taking her back through the years to a time when she could accept her own needs. "Relax..." he said softly.
He could feel the conflict of her emotions. She submitted, but she did not relax. Everything seemed to churn within her so fast that Luke couldn't say for sure what she was feeling, but sensed that first one emotion and then another rose to the surface and spun away again. Luke tried to let a calm sense of warmth pervade the Force, to contrast against the whirlpool of emotions and the cold dreariness of the weather.
Perhaps this whole idea was absurd, after all, but something told Luke that he was accomplishing more now than in all the previous long hours of training put together.
"Luke—" Briande said tightly after a while.
"Yes?"
"I can't...take much more of this."
"Why not?"
"I'm too tired. I can't...fight it much longer. I need to get some sleep." There was an implication in her voice that they should each return to their own bedrolls.
Luke smiled to himself. "Close your eyes," he suggested.
He continued to stroke her hair.
For hours they remained like that. Briande's need for sleep became overpowering, but she was still fighting it. Luke had the feeling that sleep, when it did come for her, usually forced itself on her. She didn't know how to let herself drift into it naturally.
Eventually, Briande's physical weariness and the slow, compelling regularity of Luke's touch became too much for her. She began to slip into the depths of the subconscious, floating on the edge of it for just a few seconds before pulling herself out of it with a start. Luke sensed shock, and then a determination not to let go of her conscious self again. He waited.
But despite her resistance, sleep now had a foothold on her. Though she strove to stay awake, her depleted reserves of energy could not endure a sustained battle of wills, and her grip on objective reality began to slip. Slowly, the pull of her physical and mental need grew stronger, until she could no longer fight it, and her wakeful mind began to drift—not into the powerful current she seemed to fear she would be caught in if she let go, but into the gentle, rocking waves of her own subconscious self.
Luke didn't stop brushing his hand along her head, but maintained his gentle rhythm to lull her deeper into sleep, creating little waves of movement to wash her farther and farther away from the shores of consciousness.
When he was finally certain that he could stop the movement without waking her, he still continued stroking her hair for a while longer yet, then gradually slowed his tempo and lightened his touch until he had stopped altogether. He bent his head down to look at her face.
What he saw surprised him.
Briande's cheeks were lined with the tracks of dried tears. She was floating peacefully now, but the force of her inward struggle had been so strong that it had manifested itself physically until, at last, she had cried herself to sleep. And yet, she must have wept in complete silence, for she hadn't made one sound, given one clue, to let Luke know.
There was more.
The soldier he had come to know was no longer there. The determination that usually hardened her face was gone. Her features were soft now, and she was sleeping peacefully. There was no trace of the restlessness that had seemed to possess her the nights before. Briande was a full-grown woman, but this was a child's face that rested against him, with a child's need to be held. He could feel her physical warmth through his tunic and the warmth of her presence through the Force. There was an aura that surrounded her, now, whose overall effusion was one of child-like innocence. The cold waters, the violent storms of conflict that surrounded her before, were gone.
This was what Briande must have been like as a child, what she could be like now. The other Briande, the gladiator-soldier, just didn't seem right now. The hard shell seemed like a false shield to cover up another, warmer but more vulnerable, person inside.
Briande shivered once, from a chill of the air, not of the Force. With one hand, Luke reached over to his bedroll for a blanket and pulled it over them both. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, then settled back to his own much-needed rest.
Just before he drifted off, he thought he heard someone calling his name. Luke sighed and wrapped his hands a little tighter around Briande's shoulders, pulling her closer. A few minutes later, his mind wandered to another time and another place, to a far-away desert world that somehow didn't seem quite as hot and barren as he remembered it...
It had rained before when Luke had been on Dagobah, but never as hard as it was doing now. It was as if the skies had opened up, and giant cargo-holds of water were being dumped on the ground below. And the weather was not only soaking wet, it was also uncharacteristically cold. The rain couldn't penetrate the little stone hut, of course, but the chill and the dampness did.
Usually Briande slept outside. Since it was comfortable enough out there if one had a blanket, Luke had merely shrugged at her decision and let her be. He himself had spent many nights on that very same patch of moss. But tonight, the elements forced his student indoors. Even so, Luke thought he detected just the barest hesitation before she entered the small dwelling.
Ever since the night he had awakened to find Briande shivering with the Force, he had often checked on her while she was supposed to be sleeping, and each time he found her caught up in the same dream-like restlessness that she had been in before. If it was a dream, she couldn't seem to remember any of it when she woke up. But whatever it was, the cold, faint chill in the Force always accompanied it. Briande herself seemed to have no idea of what was happening. Whenever Luke questioned her about it, she always insisted that she felt fine and had been sleeping like a torrel in hibernation.
But despite her words, Briande seemed to grow more and more fatigued over the days until now she was on the edge of exhaustion, dangerously so. She tried to hide the outward signs, but Luke was too much of a Jedi not to see through the deception.
It was a puzzle Luke couldn't find the answer to. In truth, he wasn't even sure what the question was. There were too many pieces missing to get even a vague idea of the picture.
He had tried teaching Briande the techniques for deep-relaxation, but with no visible results. Even extending her sleep periods didn't seem to help. Something was draining her of her physical and mental energies, and he didn't know what it was.
Luke had not been at all pleased with Briande's performance with the seekers earlier in the day. She had relied too much on physical prowess. She used her physical senses, not the Force; she reacted with her brain, not with her feelings. She was just a fraction too slow, and a fraction too short of the mark. She would have done quite well for a non-sensitive. But for a Jedi Knight, "not bad" wasn't good enough. And over the course of the training, her abilities had deteriorated, not improved.
As for the verbal aspects of her training, Briande was a quick pupil. She could repeat any of the lessons Luke had given her, practically word for word. She learned them well—but only in the sense of committing them to memory and being able to recall them again later. They were not a part of her in the way that they were all a part of Luke. They meant nothing to her, and Luke didn't know how to help her make the connections.
He had intended to use the time tonight for a short lesson on the history of the Jedi, but Briande's fatigue was worse than ever, despite her protests to the contrary, and he realized that she probably already knew everything he wanted to say—possibly better than he did himself. He decided that the time would be put to much better use if she were to rest.
Skywalker glanced over at the corner where his student was undoing the strings of her bedroll. "You'd be much warmer over here," he suggested, nodding to the area in front of the fireplace where his own blanket was spread out.
She stopped struggling with a knot long enough to look at him. "I'll be fine here," she said.
Luke shrugged mentally and went over to help her with her bedroll. As he knelt down beside her, he put his hand on her back.
Briande stiffened at the unexpected touch, only slightly, but Luke caught it. He watched with surprise as she purposefully busied herself with the knot.
His action had been made unconsciously, without thinking, but Briande's reaction suggested that there was more in the meaningless little gesture than there actually was.
"Briande, what's wrong?"
She glanced up at him for just a second, then looked away. "I'm sorry, Luke. It won't happen again."
"What are you afraid of?"
"Nothing. I—I just don't like to be touched, that's all."
"Don't like to be touched?" He stared at her.
"I wasn't ready for it that time. Like I said, it won't happen again."
Luke felt both awkward and perplexed. To him, touching was a natural and necessary thing. It satisfied a basic need that he thought was common to all humans. With the clarity of hindsight, he thought back to the few times during the course of Briande's training when they had touched, and realized that even on those occasions when necessity had required it, it had always been Luke who initiated the contact.
"Briande, I wasn't trying to seduce you."
"I know."
His hand wavered between reaching out to her and dropping to his side, until, deliberately, he laid his hand on her back again. But this time—as promised—there was nothing. Not a flicker of reaction. He withdrew his hand again.
"Why don't you like to be touched?" he asked.
"I just don't."
"There must be a reason."
Briande shrugged. "People don't touch me, I don't touch them." She bent over her knot again.
"Briande—" Luke began. He shifted his focus of attention for a moment, listening to an inward voice, then asked, "Briande, your father. Just how badly did Vader cripple him?"
He could see her muscles contract as she stopped her work. Then she nodded slowly, stoically, and turned around to face him. "Very perceptive of you, Luke. All of his limbs were completely severed. There wasn't even enough left to attach bionics to."
Luke was shocked. "Nothing? Surely they must have been able to do something..."
Briande looked away. "Oh, yes, there was something. They managed to give him some metal prosthetics. Not as functional as bionics, of course, but it still would have been enough if he'd—" She stopped suddenly, as if realizing the level of anger and bitterness that had crept into her voice.
"If he'd what?"
Briande Brellis cleared her throat, then continued on in a matter-of-fact voice. She was telling him only because he had asked, not because she herself wanted to share. If anything, she seemed to regret having told him so much already. "If he'd ever wanted to show any physical affection. I used to try to convince Brenna that he still loved us, that there was only something...locking him up inside since our mother was killed. I kept telling her that he'd get over it, but he never did. Except for lessons and studies, he never even spoke to us."
The Jedi looked at her with compassion. "It must have been very difficult for you," he said.
"Brenna and I still had each other."
"I thought you and your sister were enemies," Luke said, puzzled.
Briande shook her head. "Not always. Growing up, Brenna and I were more than just sisters. We became...compassiatos—what you might translate as 'best friends,' but more than that. We did everything together. We even—" She stopped and gave him a wry, rueful expression. "We even both started working for the Rebellion together."
Luke was surprised. But then he remembered that Darth Vader had once been Anakin Skywalker, before he turned to the Dark Side. When it was clear that Briande wasn't going to say anything more, Luke urged her on. "Tell me about her. What was she like?"
Briande was silent for another long moment and looked off into the distance. A slight, sad smile came as she remembered. It was only a trace of a smile, but Luke realized that it was the first genuine, unbidden one he had seen.
"Brenna was...a free spirit. Everything was a game to her. She even thought of our work as a game, receiving secret messages on behalf of the Rebellion and passing them on to people she didn't know. She didn't seem to realize how dangerous it was, and she ignored all my warnings to be careful. She took greater and greater risks, in exchange for more valuable information. More risks than I was willing to take. And she loved playing jokes on people. Sometimes when we were children, she would convince me to trade places with her. We knew each other and could imitate each other so well, that no one except our father could tell us apart, and sometimes we could even fool him. Once, she—" Briande's voice trailed off suddenly, and the almost-invisible smile vanished from her face.
"What?" Skywalker asked gently.
Briande turned away again. "One day it stopped being a game." Abruptly, she changed the topic. "You said you were going to tell me something about the original Jedi, Je-he-di, you said they were called."
Luke smiled slightly and shook his head, as much at his own actions as in answer to her change of topic. Even thinking in terms of Briande's sister, he'd been focusing on his and Briande's similarities, when he should have been focusing on their differences. Luke had never wanted for affection from his Aunt Beru. Even Uncle Owen, who had always been more reserved, had been a genuinely caring parent. If the only affection Briande had known was between herself and her sister, it must have been an incredible blow for her when her sister turned to the Dark Side. No wonder she did so poorly in the training. She saw it as preparation to destroy the only human being she had ever loved. In fact, she had told him as much. She had told him that she didn't want to be here, that she was only here because she had to be. He just hadn't been listening in ways that he should have..
As for the sense of comfort that human touch created, if Briande had never really experienced it, then she couldn't know that it was a good thing. He held out his hand to her. Sometimes, before moving ahead, it was necessary to go back to the beginning. "Briande, I want you to spend the night with me."
She whirled to face him, saw the hand, and panic came into her eyes as she realized what he meant to do. "I can't, Luke."
"Why not?"
"I—I just can't!" She turned away.
"I'm not asking you to do anything more. I just want you to spend the night with me, that's all." He put his hands on her shoulders. Now that he was looking for it, he could feel her body give a slight tremor—not quite a shudder—as he touched her.
She pulled away. "I don't want to."
"You're free to leave Dagobah any time you want," he replied.
She bit her lip at the ultimatum. "Luke, it was Darth Vader who did that to my father."
"I am not Darth Vader."
"You're his son."
Luke sighed. "Make up your mind, Briande. Stay with me, or abandon the training." He held his hand out to her again. It was her choice, but it had to be made. He couldn't teach her to move ahead until she unchained herself from her past.
Briande swallowed and slowly, tentatively, put her hand in his. She didn't look at him.
Luke clasped her cold, unresponsive fingers warmly and led her to the wall near the fireplace. She offered no resistance, but her movements were stiff and unnatural.
"This is silly," she stated.
"Maybe," Skywalker said, conceding no more than that. He applied a soft, insistent pressure on her shoulders, and Briande slid down with her back to the wall. Luke seated himself beside her comfortably.
"I still don't think this is such a good idea."
Luke said nothing, but wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. He wanted to take her back to her girlhood and give her the warmth of the physical affection she had been deprived of.
"Luke, I—"
"Shhh..." he whispered. With his free hand, he began stroking the side of her head. Luke could feel her stiffness and her tension as she forced herself to endure his touch. He brought his hand to the top of her head and let it slide down slowly, over the smooth lump where her ear was, down to her neck, then lifted his hand to repeat the stroke in a slow, gentle rhythm. There was no thought of having her return the touch; she was already much too uncomfortable. He thought only of taking her back through the years to a time when she could accept her own needs. "Relax..." he said softly.
He could feel the conflict of her emotions. She submitted, but she did not relax. Everything seemed to churn within her so fast that Luke couldn't say for sure what she was feeling, but sensed that first one emotion and then another rose to the surface and spun away again. Luke tried to let a calm sense of warmth pervade the Force, to contrast against the whirlpool of emotions and the cold dreariness of the weather.
Perhaps this whole idea was absurd, after all, but something told Luke that he was accomplishing more now than in all the previous long hours of training put together.
"Luke—" Briande said tightly after a while.
"Yes?"
"I can't...take much more of this."
"Why not?"
"I'm too tired. I can't...fight it much longer. I need to get some sleep." There was an implication in her voice that they should each return to their own bedrolls.
Luke smiled to himself. "Close your eyes," he suggested.
He continued to stroke her hair.
For hours they remained like that. Briande's need for sleep became overpowering, but she was still fighting it. Luke had the feeling that sleep, when it did come for her, usually forced itself on her. She didn't know how to let herself drift into it naturally.
Eventually, Briande's physical weariness and the slow, compelling regularity of Luke's touch became too much for her. She began to slip into the depths of the subconscious, floating on the edge of it for just a few seconds before pulling herself out of it with a start. Luke sensed shock, and then a determination not to let go of her conscious self again. He waited.
But despite her resistance, sleep now had a foothold on her. Though she strove to stay awake, her depleted reserves of energy could not endure a sustained battle of wills, and her grip on objective reality began to slip. Slowly, the pull of her physical and mental need grew stronger, until she could no longer fight it, and her wakeful mind began to drift—not into the powerful current she seemed to fear she would be caught in if she let go, but into the gentle, rocking waves of her own subconscious self.
Luke didn't stop brushing his hand along her head, but maintained his gentle rhythm to lull her deeper into sleep, creating little waves of movement to wash her farther and farther away from the shores of consciousness.
When he was finally certain that he could stop the movement without waking her, he still continued stroking her hair for a while longer yet, then gradually slowed his tempo and lightened his touch until he had stopped altogether. He bent his head down to look at her face.
What he saw surprised him.
Briande's cheeks were lined with the tracks of dried tears. She was floating peacefully now, but the force of her inward struggle had been so strong that it had manifested itself physically until, at last, she had cried herself to sleep. And yet, she must have wept in complete silence, for she hadn't made one sound, given one clue, to let Luke know.
There was more.
The soldier he had come to know was no longer there. The determination that usually hardened her face was gone. Her features were soft now, and she was sleeping peacefully. There was no trace of the restlessness that had seemed to possess her the nights before. Briande was a full-grown woman, but this was a child's face that rested against him, with a child's need to be held. He could feel her physical warmth through his tunic and the warmth of her presence through the Force. There was an aura that surrounded her, now, whose overall effusion was one of child-like innocence. The cold waters, the violent storms of conflict that surrounded her before, were gone.
This was what Briande must have been like as a child, what she could be like now. The other Briande, the gladiator-soldier, just didn't seem right now. The hard shell seemed like a false shield to cover up another, warmer but more vulnerable, person inside.
Briande shivered once, from a chill of the air, not of the Force. With one hand, Luke reached over to his bedroll for a blanket and pulled it over them both. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, then settled back to his own much-needed rest.
Just before he drifted off, he thought he heard someone calling his name. Luke sighed and wrapped his hands a little tighter around Briande's shoulders, pulling her closer. A few minutes later, his mind wandered to another time and another place, to a far-away desert world that somehow didn't seem quite as hot and barren as he remembered it...
-----
Chapter Fourteen
In the morning, when Luke awoke, he found he was alone. He suppressed a sigh, reminding himself not to expect miracles, and set off in search of his missing pupil.
The ground outside was soggy and wet from the previous night's rain, and the air was heavy with insects. Luke did not need to use the Force to find which direction Briande had taken. He simply followed her footprints in the mud.
As he walked, he suddenly heard a cry. Not a human voice, but the squeal of a small animal. Using instinct to guide him, he left the path and went into the underbrush. There, concealed by a low plant, was the nest of a kinoll, a small rodent-like creature with large ears and no tail. The nest was smeared with blood, and a riga-lizard was sitting beside it, licking his chops. Luke had no doubts that the sound he had heard had been made by the mother kinoll as she tried in vain to protect her nest. She was nowhere to be seen, but her fate was clearly visible in the dark stains around the habitation.
The carnivorous lizard turned its attention to the only occupant of the nest that was left, a tiny baby kinoll that mewed almost inaudibly. The riga opened its mouth for a quick strike.
Luke was quicker. He grabbed the riga by the tail and hauled it upside down until he was looking at the lizard at eye level. "No, my friend, you've had enough to eat for one day." He placed the riga on a tree branch, where it would take the reptile a few minutes to scramble down, and bent to pick up the baby kinoll.
The animal was so tiny its eyes weren't even open yet. Its fur was white, an unusual color for a kinoll, with the pink skin of a newborn underneath. Luke stroked it lightly to calm it and then deposited it carefully into the warmth of an inside pocket. As he made his way back to the path, he was careful not to brush that side against anything.
He heard Briande before he saw her. She was talking aloud to herself, or to something or someone else. As Luke approached her from behind, he felt the ripple in the Force again. Like before, when Briande had been dreaming, only stronger.
"I can defeat you," she was saying. "You are too weak for me. You cannot control my powers. I am the stronger!"
Puzzled, Luke reached out and touched her shoulder. In that instant, he felt a wave, like a rush of cold air washing over him suddenly, and then it was gone.
"Briande?" he said tentatively.
She stood frozen, like a statue, seemingly oblivious to the sound of his voice, or the touch of his hand.
He moved around to face her and put both hands on her shoulders. "Briande, who were you talking to?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Who were you talking to?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you remember?"
Briande looked at him, clearly confused. "The last thing I remember, you and I were in the hut, and you—" She suddenly became aware that Luke was touching her, and she pulled away. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Last night. My...weakness."
The Jedi looked into her eyes, sensing layers of undercurrents to what originally appeared to be on the surface. Her eyes yearned for...something. For what? To be a little girl again? He raised his hand to touch his fingertips to her face, but the impenetrable shield came up again, and her expression hardened. He let his arm fall back to his side.
"Briande, secretly, inside, you really wanted me to hold you last night, didn't you?"
He saw her start, then take a deep breath and pull herself to her full height, once again the soldier. "Yes," she said.
Luke smiled gently, shaking his head. "That isn't such a bad weakness." He started to put his arms around her, but she backed away.
"Luke, please don't."
He saw fear flicker in her eyes and dropped his hands. "Why not?"
"I don't want to...repeat my father's mistake. Or my own. My father left himself too open and vulnerable to attack. Brenna would use it against me, just as Darth Vader did with my father."
Luke shook his head again, more emphatically. "Briande, your father's greater mistake was shutting himself off after Vader destroyed your mother, not leaving himself too open beforehand."
"But Brenna's already used my emotions against me. She knew I wanted to reconcile with her, and that's how she was able to lure me to Croyus Four. Emotions are a Jedi's greatest weakness."
"That's true. But they can also be a Jedi's greatest asset, his greatest strength."
"You don't understand, Luke. Right now, I'm...safe. But I can feel her lurking, waiting for me to let down my guard. She preys on my emotions, on any weakness she can find. I'm not ready to face that. My feelings aren't buried deep enough yet."
Luke was frustrated and discouraged. How could he explain to Briande that by burying her feelings, she was burying herself as well? It was not something that made easy sense, but something he felt inside.
She was afraid of her own feelings, afraid to acknowledge her own desires and needs. Perhaps he had rushed things last night, forcing too much on her too soon. What he needed was a nice, safe, easy way to teach her that these things were okay, that they were nothing to be afraid of.
A safe, easy teacher...
And then, he realized that he had just that, a safe, easy teacher, right in his own pocket. "Put out your hand," he ordered. He reached into his pocket and brought out the baby kinoll. He carefully placed the tiny animal into her cupped palm and stood back. "I want you to take care of this. It's too young to be weaned yet, so you'll have to find some other way to feed it."
Briande looked at the tiny creature in her hand, and then up at Luke. "I can't take care of this," she said. She tried to give it back, but Luke would not take it. "Luke, you don't understand. It's too dangerous. You don't know what you're—" She stopped suddenly, in mid-sentence. The faint trace of warmth Luke had been able to identify as Briande's Force-presence disappeared. She looked around, at the trees, at the swamp. She shivered.
"She's here," Briande said, her voice seeming to echo slightly from the bog. "She's found me."
"Who's here?"
"She's much stronger this time. I don't know how to fight her."
"Fight who? Briande, tell me what's wrong."
Just as suddenly, the chill vanished, and Briande looked at him vaguely for a second. Her expression was unreadable. Luke experienced the sensation of being far away from her, even though they were just a few feet apart.
Then her eyes cleared, and she gave her head a slight shake. She held the kinoll out to him once more. "I can't take care of this," she said again flatly. "I can't give it what it needs."
Luke smiled. "Well, then, you'll just have to learn, won't you." He turned to go.
"Skywalker!"
The voice made Luke stop cold. It was Briande's voice, but it didn't sound like Briande. He turned slowly back to face her.
Briande looked him directly in the eyes and smiled coldly. She held her open palm out to him, the one with the baby kinoll on it. Then, slowly, she began to close her fingers into a fist, tightening them around the kinoll, to crush the life out of it.
It took Luke a second to realize what she was doing, and another to recover from the shock. In the next instant, he rushed her, seized her wrist, pried her fingers loose, and caught the kinoll as it fell to the ground. He stared at her in anger and disbelief, still holding onto her wrist tightly.
Briande was still gazing at him and smiling malevalently. Then her eyes shifted to where Luke's hand was grasping her wrist and gradually dulled and lost focus.
Luke looked at the kinoll. Its breath had been squeezed out of it, but it was still alive. Either he had been fast enough to save it, or—he paused, remembering his slight hesitation—or Briande had been slow enough to let him save it. But still...she had tried to kill it...hadn't she?
With that thought, his anger returned in a rush, and he shook Briande's wrist roughly. "Why did you do that?" he demanded.
"Do what?" she asked. Her voice sounded remote.
Luke's anger was momentarily checked by astonishment. She seemed to have no idea of what just happened. Then her expression changed, slowly becoming one of horror as she stared at her hand.
"Briande—" Luke said uncertainly.
She looked up at him slowly. Then her eyes widened, and she made a cry of fear. Without warning, she pulled her wrist free, and turned and plunged into the undergrowth.
Luke paused only long enough to put the kinoll safely back into his pocket, and then took off after her. He was still angry with her for trying to crush the kinoll to death, but he was also perplexed. He could feel the Force-currents moving now, stronger than ever. It was the puzzle again, another piece that he had found but didn't know where to put.
He did not catch up with her immediately, as he expected, but found that he had underestimated her abilities. She was faster than he had anticipated, and longer-winded, too. Evidently, she was drawing on something more than just her physical strength, which she had not done before during the training.
Instinctively, she seemed to avoid the dangerous parts of the swamp where pits of quicksand lay hidden, even though she was not intimately familiar with this area. But she was running blindly, running simply to get away from Luke. Despite the fact that her headstart gave her an advantage, Luke gained on her steadily. At last, he caught a glimpse of her ahead, and sprinted to close the gap.
Briande kept glancing backwards until, finally, her turning caused her to trip over a tree root. Luke took advantage of her fall to catch up. On the ground, Briande continued scrambling backwards, trying to crawl away.
"Luke, no!" she screamed. "Stay away from me!"
Luke was momentarily taken aback by the level of naked fear which showed through. He had intended to give her a hot tongue-lashing, nothing more, but the terror in her face went far beyond any expectation she could have for punishment.
"Why are you so afraid of me?"
"Don't come any closer! Keep back!"
"Why? I don't understand."
She laughed, an edge of hysteria in her voice. To Luke, she seemed to be another completely different person from the controlled and collected soldier he had been training, or even the cold-blooded demon who had tried to kill the kinoll. And yet...none of these personalities seemed quite...right.
"No, you don't, do you," she laughed. Then the humorless mirth vanished and left only an urgent plea in her eyes. "I killed it," she said. "I very nearly killed it!"
"True," Luke replied. "But I wasn't planning to kill you."
The laugh again. But under it, the sobriety of untempered truth. "You may be forced to, Son of Skywalker. That may be the only way you can change your destiny. I suggest you do it now, while you still have the chance."
"Briande, what are you talking about? You're not making any sense."
"The most powerful Jedi Knight that ever lived, and you can't even see your own fate!"
Luke studied her for a moment. She had seen something, then, something she believed he had not seen. He thought of the vision he had seen of Palpatine. If the vision were true, then he had seen his own fate. He wondered if Briande had seen the same thing. Was that why she was so afraid of him? No, there were still...pieces missing.
"What I can see," he said, "is that you're absolutely terrified of something. Of me. I want to know why."
Briande looked away. "I'm sorry," she said.
Luke didn't let her side-step the question. "Why are you so afraid of me?"
She tried to become the soldier again, but the threads she was using to pull herself together were too tenuous. "I—I told you already. You're the son of Darth Vader, the man who killed my mother and—"
"No—" Skywalker shook his head. "There's something more, something you haven't told me. It's me that you're afraid of, isn't it? Not the son of Darth Vader, but me. Tell me why."
"I've told you all that I can."
"It's not enough!" Luke stopped, then softened the tone of his voice. "Briande, you have to trust me. Tell me what you've seen."
She dropped the act of pretended ignorance, but she still did not reveal what he needed to know. "I can't," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because...I'm the only one who can face my sister, but I'm not ready for her yet."
"That still doesn't explain anything."
"Yes, it does. Without your training, I can do nothing."
"Without knowing why you're afraid of me, I can't train you. No—" he stopped suddenly and corrected himself, sensing something through the Force. "No, you're not afraid of me, are you. You're afraid for me. Why is that?"
Briande was silent.
Luke sighed and looked out over the swamp. "Our agreement was that I would train you as long as you did as I requested..."
"No!" Briande turned to him in alarm. "Luke, you don't understand. I'm the only one who can stop my sister. Even you, with all your powers, could be deceived by her. I know her well enough not to be tricked again, but right now she's too strong for me. You must help me."
"Then tell me what you're afraid of."
"I can't. You won't teach me if I tell you."
Luke turned away, disappointed, frustrated, and confused. "I'm sorry. I really hoped that—" He shook his head. "We'll leave first thing tomorrow morning. There are some...things I want to take care of before we go." Some books of Yoda's he wanted to sort through, decide which ones to take with him. He knew that if he left now, he'd never come back.
Briande got to her feet quickly and almost touched his arm to stop him, but her hand hovered a fraction of an inch away. "Luke, no! Don't you see? Much as I want to, I can't give it up. My sister has become a monster, now. And...somehow she's grown immensely powerful. I need to know how to fight her."
"Briande—" Luke turned around and watched her step back. He shook his head. "Briande, much as I'd like to, I can't teach you. Unless I know the truth, it's impossible for me to help you learn how to deal with it. You've made little or no progress since we've been here, and I think this vision—whatever it is—is standing in the way. Last night I thought maybe we were getting somewhere, but I guess I was wrong. There's no point in our staying here if you're not going to—"
"Maybe—" she began.
Luke stopped. "Maybe, what?"
"Maybe...you're right. Maybe you should leave. But do it now. Don't wait until tomorrow."
Luke narrowed his gaze, trying to pierce through to her inner soul. She was on the verge of opening up, he could sense it. But he noticed something else, too, in her words. "You say 'me' as if you're not coming."
"I'm...not."
"I'm not going to leave you stranded here."
"Please, Luke. If there's any chance at all, you've got to take the ship and get away from Dagobah while there's still time!"
"Still time for what? I don't understand."
"Please! " She was openly begging him. The plea was coming from her inner depths, stronger than—and contradictory to—her previous pleas to request his training. It made no sense.
Luke was exhasperated. "Briande, I don't understand any of this. You say that the training is the only thing that's important. You refuse to give it up yourself, but you agree willingly enough if I decide to. But then, only if I abandon you here."
Briande took a breath and seemed to recover some measure of her composure, but her eyes still betrayed her fear. "If I tell you, will you go?"
Luke hesitated. "I'll consider it," he said.
Briande nodded slowly and looked away. "I've seen the future, Luke. I don't want to believe it, but it's there. I've seen it."
Luke sat down and motioned for her to do the same. "Tell me," he said.
Briande sat down but looked into the distance and refused to meet his gaze. "I've had a dream. One that keeps recurring over and over again, ever since we got here. It's the only thing I can remember when I wake up in the mornings. But it's more than just a dream; it's a vision of things to come. Lately, it's been coming more and more frequently. Last night..." Her voice trailed off.
"Go on," Luke urged gently.
She swallowed. "Last night...was the first night in a long while that I haven't been tortured by it, but this morning I was more certain of its reality than ever..."
Briande didn't speak for a long moment. Luke almost thought she had changed her mind about telling him again, when she finally turned to look at him so he could see she was speaking the truth. Her voice, however, was barely audible. "It's you, Luke. It was your death that I saw. I'm going to be the cause of it. Your death...by my hand."
The Jedi stared at her. But he was not nearly as surprised as he thought he should be. Somehow...this new puzzle piece seemed to fit with the other pieces.
He recovered himself quickly. "The future is always in motion, Briande. It's impossible to see everything clearly."
She shook her head. "I can be certain of it. A lightsaber to the throat. I'm not sure of the other details. I don't know why or when. I just know that it will happen, unless you do something now to change it. You saw the kinoll. Don't let the same thing happen to you." She stood up and took a step towards the jungle.
Luke caught her by both shoulders. He felt...something sad underneath his touch. Not revulsion. Not fear. Just...sadness. "Where are you going?"
She nodded to the impossible tangle of undergrowth. "In there. To give you time."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"But you said—"
"I said I'd consider it. You said that you're the only one who can face your sister. If that's true, then I won't abandon the training. If you do, that's your decision. But think of the consequences before you decide."
Briande looked at the sky, still gray from the previous rain, and then closed her eyes tightly. "There...is...no one else. Much as I want to, I can't give it up. You're right, it's more than just you and me..."
She stopped, drew a breath, and at the same time drew herself back inward. The currents Luke had felt in the Force vanished. "I've known that from the beginning. Nothing's changed now, except that you know, too. But, Luke—" She turned to look at him. Her feelings were concealed behind the mask once again, but a tiny a glimmer of fear shone through her eyes. "Luke, I am going to kill you..."
In the morning, when Luke awoke, he found he was alone. He suppressed a sigh, reminding himself not to expect miracles, and set off in search of his missing pupil.
The ground outside was soggy and wet from the previous night's rain, and the air was heavy with insects. Luke did not need to use the Force to find which direction Briande had taken. He simply followed her footprints in the mud.
As he walked, he suddenly heard a cry. Not a human voice, but the squeal of a small animal. Using instinct to guide him, he left the path and went into the underbrush. There, concealed by a low plant, was the nest of a kinoll, a small rodent-like creature with large ears and no tail. The nest was smeared with blood, and a riga-lizard was sitting beside it, licking his chops. Luke had no doubts that the sound he had heard had been made by the mother kinoll as she tried in vain to protect her nest. She was nowhere to be seen, but her fate was clearly visible in the dark stains around the habitation.
The carnivorous lizard turned its attention to the only occupant of the nest that was left, a tiny baby kinoll that mewed almost inaudibly. The riga opened its mouth for a quick strike.
Luke was quicker. He grabbed the riga by the tail and hauled it upside down until he was looking at the lizard at eye level. "No, my friend, you've had enough to eat for one day." He placed the riga on a tree branch, where it would take the reptile a few minutes to scramble down, and bent to pick up the baby kinoll.
The animal was so tiny its eyes weren't even open yet. Its fur was white, an unusual color for a kinoll, with the pink skin of a newborn underneath. Luke stroked it lightly to calm it and then deposited it carefully into the warmth of an inside pocket. As he made his way back to the path, he was careful not to brush that side against anything.
He heard Briande before he saw her. She was talking aloud to herself, or to something or someone else. As Luke approached her from behind, he felt the ripple in the Force again. Like before, when Briande had been dreaming, only stronger.
"I can defeat you," she was saying. "You are too weak for me. You cannot control my powers. I am the stronger!"
Puzzled, Luke reached out and touched her shoulder. In that instant, he felt a wave, like a rush of cold air washing over him suddenly, and then it was gone.
"Briande?" he said tentatively.
She stood frozen, like a statue, seemingly oblivious to the sound of his voice, or the touch of his hand.
He moved around to face her and put both hands on her shoulders. "Briande, who were you talking to?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Who were you talking to?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you remember?"
Briande looked at him, clearly confused. "The last thing I remember, you and I were in the hut, and you—" She suddenly became aware that Luke was touching her, and she pulled away. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Last night. My...weakness."
The Jedi looked into her eyes, sensing layers of undercurrents to what originally appeared to be on the surface. Her eyes yearned for...something. For what? To be a little girl again? He raised his hand to touch his fingertips to her face, but the impenetrable shield came up again, and her expression hardened. He let his arm fall back to his side.
"Briande, secretly, inside, you really wanted me to hold you last night, didn't you?"
He saw her start, then take a deep breath and pull herself to her full height, once again the soldier. "Yes," she said.
Luke smiled gently, shaking his head. "That isn't such a bad weakness." He started to put his arms around her, but she backed away.
"Luke, please don't."
He saw fear flicker in her eyes and dropped his hands. "Why not?"
"I don't want to...repeat my father's mistake. Or my own. My father left himself too open and vulnerable to attack. Brenna would use it against me, just as Darth Vader did with my father."
Luke shook his head again, more emphatically. "Briande, your father's greater mistake was shutting himself off after Vader destroyed your mother, not leaving himself too open beforehand."
"But Brenna's already used my emotions against me. She knew I wanted to reconcile with her, and that's how she was able to lure me to Croyus Four. Emotions are a Jedi's greatest weakness."
"That's true. But they can also be a Jedi's greatest asset, his greatest strength."
"You don't understand, Luke. Right now, I'm...safe. But I can feel her lurking, waiting for me to let down my guard. She preys on my emotions, on any weakness she can find. I'm not ready to face that. My feelings aren't buried deep enough yet."
Luke was frustrated and discouraged. How could he explain to Briande that by burying her feelings, she was burying herself as well? It was not something that made easy sense, but something he felt inside.
She was afraid of her own feelings, afraid to acknowledge her own desires and needs. Perhaps he had rushed things last night, forcing too much on her too soon. What he needed was a nice, safe, easy way to teach her that these things were okay, that they were nothing to be afraid of.
A safe, easy teacher...
And then, he realized that he had just that, a safe, easy teacher, right in his own pocket. "Put out your hand," he ordered. He reached into his pocket and brought out the baby kinoll. He carefully placed the tiny animal into her cupped palm and stood back. "I want you to take care of this. It's too young to be weaned yet, so you'll have to find some other way to feed it."
Briande looked at the tiny creature in her hand, and then up at Luke. "I can't take care of this," she said. She tried to give it back, but Luke would not take it. "Luke, you don't understand. It's too dangerous. You don't know what you're—" She stopped suddenly, in mid-sentence. The faint trace of warmth Luke had been able to identify as Briande's Force-presence disappeared. She looked around, at the trees, at the swamp. She shivered.
"She's here," Briande said, her voice seeming to echo slightly from the bog. "She's found me."
"Who's here?"
"She's much stronger this time. I don't know how to fight her."
"Fight who? Briande, tell me what's wrong."
Just as suddenly, the chill vanished, and Briande looked at him vaguely for a second. Her expression was unreadable. Luke experienced the sensation of being far away from her, even though they were just a few feet apart.
Then her eyes cleared, and she gave her head a slight shake. She held the kinoll out to him once more. "I can't take care of this," she said again flatly. "I can't give it what it needs."
Luke smiled. "Well, then, you'll just have to learn, won't you." He turned to go.
"Skywalker!"
The voice made Luke stop cold. It was Briande's voice, but it didn't sound like Briande. He turned slowly back to face her.
Briande looked him directly in the eyes and smiled coldly. She held her open palm out to him, the one with the baby kinoll on it. Then, slowly, she began to close her fingers into a fist, tightening them around the kinoll, to crush the life out of it.
It took Luke a second to realize what she was doing, and another to recover from the shock. In the next instant, he rushed her, seized her wrist, pried her fingers loose, and caught the kinoll as it fell to the ground. He stared at her in anger and disbelief, still holding onto her wrist tightly.
Briande was still gazing at him and smiling malevalently. Then her eyes shifted to where Luke's hand was grasping her wrist and gradually dulled and lost focus.
Luke looked at the kinoll. Its breath had been squeezed out of it, but it was still alive. Either he had been fast enough to save it, or—he paused, remembering his slight hesitation—or Briande had been slow enough to let him save it. But still...she had tried to kill it...hadn't she?
With that thought, his anger returned in a rush, and he shook Briande's wrist roughly. "Why did you do that?" he demanded.
"Do what?" she asked. Her voice sounded remote.
Luke's anger was momentarily checked by astonishment. She seemed to have no idea of what just happened. Then her expression changed, slowly becoming one of horror as she stared at her hand.
"Briande—" Luke said uncertainly.
She looked up at him slowly. Then her eyes widened, and she made a cry of fear. Without warning, she pulled her wrist free, and turned and plunged into the undergrowth.
Luke paused only long enough to put the kinoll safely back into his pocket, and then took off after her. He was still angry with her for trying to crush the kinoll to death, but he was also perplexed. He could feel the Force-currents moving now, stronger than ever. It was the puzzle again, another piece that he had found but didn't know where to put.
He did not catch up with her immediately, as he expected, but found that he had underestimated her abilities. She was faster than he had anticipated, and longer-winded, too. Evidently, she was drawing on something more than just her physical strength, which she had not done before during the training.
Instinctively, she seemed to avoid the dangerous parts of the swamp where pits of quicksand lay hidden, even though she was not intimately familiar with this area. But she was running blindly, running simply to get away from Luke. Despite the fact that her headstart gave her an advantage, Luke gained on her steadily. At last, he caught a glimpse of her ahead, and sprinted to close the gap.
Briande kept glancing backwards until, finally, her turning caused her to trip over a tree root. Luke took advantage of her fall to catch up. On the ground, Briande continued scrambling backwards, trying to crawl away.
"Luke, no!" she screamed. "Stay away from me!"
Luke was momentarily taken aback by the level of naked fear which showed through. He had intended to give her a hot tongue-lashing, nothing more, but the terror in her face went far beyond any expectation she could have for punishment.
"Why are you so afraid of me?"
"Don't come any closer! Keep back!"
"Why? I don't understand."
She laughed, an edge of hysteria in her voice. To Luke, she seemed to be another completely different person from the controlled and collected soldier he had been training, or even the cold-blooded demon who had tried to kill the kinoll. And yet...none of these personalities seemed quite...right.
"No, you don't, do you," she laughed. Then the humorless mirth vanished and left only an urgent plea in her eyes. "I killed it," she said. "I very nearly killed it!"
"True," Luke replied. "But I wasn't planning to kill you."
The laugh again. But under it, the sobriety of untempered truth. "You may be forced to, Son of Skywalker. That may be the only way you can change your destiny. I suggest you do it now, while you still have the chance."
"Briande, what are you talking about? You're not making any sense."
"The most powerful Jedi Knight that ever lived, and you can't even see your own fate!"
Luke studied her for a moment. She had seen something, then, something she believed he had not seen. He thought of the vision he had seen of Palpatine. If the vision were true, then he had seen his own fate. He wondered if Briande had seen the same thing. Was that why she was so afraid of him? No, there were still...pieces missing.
"What I can see," he said, "is that you're absolutely terrified of something. Of me. I want to know why."
Briande looked away. "I'm sorry," she said.
Luke didn't let her side-step the question. "Why are you so afraid of me?"
She tried to become the soldier again, but the threads she was using to pull herself together were too tenuous. "I—I told you already. You're the son of Darth Vader, the man who killed my mother and—"
"No—" Skywalker shook his head. "There's something more, something you haven't told me. It's me that you're afraid of, isn't it? Not the son of Darth Vader, but me. Tell me why."
"I've told you all that I can."
"It's not enough!" Luke stopped, then softened the tone of his voice. "Briande, you have to trust me. Tell me what you've seen."
She dropped the act of pretended ignorance, but she still did not reveal what he needed to know. "I can't," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because...I'm the only one who can face my sister, but I'm not ready for her yet."
"That still doesn't explain anything."
"Yes, it does. Without your training, I can do nothing."
"Without knowing why you're afraid of me, I can't train you. No—" he stopped suddenly and corrected himself, sensing something through the Force. "No, you're not afraid of me, are you. You're afraid for me. Why is that?"
Briande was silent.
Luke sighed and looked out over the swamp. "Our agreement was that I would train you as long as you did as I requested..."
"No!" Briande turned to him in alarm. "Luke, you don't understand. I'm the only one who can stop my sister. Even you, with all your powers, could be deceived by her. I know her well enough not to be tricked again, but right now she's too strong for me. You must help me."
"Then tell me what you're afraid of."
"I can't. You won't teach me if I tell you."
Luke turned away, disappointed, frustrated, and confused. "I'm sorry. I really hoped that—" He shook his head. "We'll leave first thing tomorrow morning. There are some...things I want to take care of before we go." Some books of Yoda's he wanted to sort through, decide which ones to take with him. He knew that if he left now, he'd never come back.
Briande got to her feet quickly and almost touched his arm to stop him, but her hand hovered a fraction of an inch away. "Luke, no! Don't you see? Much as I want to, I can't give it up. My sister has become a monster, now. And...somehow she's grown immensely powerful. I need to know how to fight her."
"Briande—" Luke turned around and watched her step back. He shook his head. "Briande, much as I'd like to, I can't teach you. Unless I know the truth, it's impossible for me to help you learn how to deal with it. You've made little or no progress since we've been here, and I think this vision—whatever it is—is standing in the way. Last night I thought maybe we were getting somewhere, but I guess I was wrong. There's no point in our staying here if you're not going to—"
"Maybe—" she began.
Luke stopped. "Maybe, what?"
"Maybe...you're right. Maybe you should leave. But do it now. Don't wait until tomorrow."
Luke narrowed his gaze, trying to pierce through to her inner soul. She was on the verge of opening up, he could sense it. But he noticed something else, too, in her words. "You say 'me' as if you're not coming."
"I'm...not."
"I'm not going to leave you stranded here."
"Please, Luke. If there's any chance at all, you've got to take the ship and get away from Dagobah while there's still time!"
"Still time for what? I don't understand."
"Please! " She was openly begging him. The plea was coming from her inner depths, stronger than—and contradictory to—her previous pleas to request his training. It made no sense.
Luke was exhasperated. "Briande, I don't understand any of this. You say that the training is the only thing that's important. You refuse to give it up yourself, but you agree willingly enough if I decide to. But then, only if I abandon you here."
Briande took a breath and seemed to recover some measure of her composure, but her eyes still betrayed her fear. "If I tell you, will you go?"
Luke hesitated. "I'll consider it," he said.
Briande nodded slowly and looked away. "I've seen the future, Luke. I don't want to believe it, but it's there. I've seen it."
Luke sat down and motioned for her to do the same. "Tell me," he said.
Briande sat down but looked into the distance and refused to meet his gaze. "I've had a dream. One that keeps recurring over and over again, ever since we got here. It's the only thing I can remember when I wake up in the mornings. But it's more than just a dream; it's a vision of things to come. Lately, it's been coming more and more frequently. Last night..." Her voice trailed off.
"Go on," Luke urged gently.
She swallowed. "Last night...was the first night in a long while that I haven't been tortured by it, but this morning I was more certain of its reality than ever..."
Briande didn't speak for a long moment. Luke almost thought she had changed her mind about telling him again, when she finally turned to look at him so he could see she was speaking the truth. Her voice, however, was barely audible. "It's you, Luke. It was your death that I saw. I'm going to be the cause of it. Your death...by my hand."
The Jedi stared at her. But he was not nearly as surprised as he thought he should be. Somehow...this new puzzle piece seemed to fit with the other pieces.
He recovered himself quickly. "The future is always in motion, Briande. It's impossible to see everything clearly."
She shook her head. "I can be certain of it. A lightsaber to the throat. I'm not sure of the other details. I don't know why or when. I just know that it will happen, unless you do something now to change it. You saw the kinoll. Don't let the same thing happen to you." She stood up and took a step towards the jungle.
Luke caught her by both shoulders. He felt...something sad underneath his touch. Not revulsion. Not fear. Just...sadness. "Where are you going?"
She nodded to the impossible tangle of undergrowth. "In there. To give you time."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"But you said—"
"I said I'd consider it. You said that you're the only one who can face your sister. If that's true, then I won't abandon the training. If you do, that's your decision. But think of the consequences before you decide."
Briande looked at the sky, still gray from the previous rain, and then closed her eyes tightly. "There...is...no one else. Much as I want to, I can't give it up. You're right, it's more than just you and me..."
She stopped, drew a breath, and at the same time drew herself back inward. The currents Luke had felt in the Force vanished. "I've known that from the beginning. Nothing's changed now, except that you know, too. But, Luke—" She turned to look at him. Her feelings were concealed behind the mask once again, but a tiny a glimmer of fear shone through her eyes. "Luke, I am going to kill you..."
-----
Chapter Fifteen
Taj looked at the Falcon's new anti-grav booster and nodded. "Nice," he said.
"And come take a look at the sensor relay," Han invited. "The boys put in a trillium conduit with a lori switch."
Taj peered into the indicated hatch. "Kind of expensive, isn't it?"
"Maybe," Han agreed, "but worth every credit."
"If you took the contract, I could write it off as a service expense."
Han shook his head, but there was a hint of reluctance in the movement. "No, Leia's right. She was straightforward with me about what her plans were before we got married, and she was expecting the same straightforwardness from me. It wouldn't be fair to upset her expectations now."
Taj grinned. "Yeah, sometimes it's better to wait a few months."
Han gave him a look that clearly told Taj he was not amused.
Taj sighed. "You really must be nuts about her if she's done this to you."
"Done what?"
"Nothin'. Oh, by the way—" Taj reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. "—this arrived for you, care of the base. Thought I'd better give it to you before you take off."
Han took it. "What is it?"
"I didn't open it."
Han looked at the package. Then his brows furrowed. "It's from my grandmother."
"Yeah, well, whatever. Tell Leia I wish her luck in the elections. And if you change your mind about the job, you know where to find me."
"I won't change my mind," Han said.
"Yeah," Taj said. "Well, good luck, Han. It was good seeing you again."
"Good seeing you, too, Taj. And Marina."
"I'll tell her. Clear skies, Han Solo."
"To you, too. Good luck with those pirates."
They shook hands. Then Taj stepped back to give the Falcon a final once-over and nodded. "Nice ship," he said.
Taj looked at the Falcon's new anti-grav booster and nodded. "Nice," he said.
"And come take a look at the sensor relay," Han invited. "The boys put in a trillium conduit with a lori switch."
Taj peered into the indicated hatch. "Kind of expensive, isn't it?"
"Maybe," Han agreed, "but worth every credit."
"If you took the contract, I could write it off as a service expense."
Han shook his head, but there was a hint of reluctance in the movement. "No, Leia's right. She was straightforward with me about what her plans were before we got married, and she was expecting the same straightforwardness from me. It wouldn't be fair to upset her expectations now."
Taj grinned. "Yeah, sometimes it's better to wait a few months."
Han gave him a look that clearly told Taj he was not amused.
Taj sighed. "You really must be nuts about her if she's done this to you."
"Done what?"
"Nothin'. Oh, by the way—" Taj reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. "—this arrived for you, care of the base. Thought I'd better give it to you before you take off."
Han took it. "What is it?"
"I didn't open it."
Han looked at the package. Then his brows furrowed. "It's from my grandmother."
"Yeah, well, whatever. Tell Leia I wish her luck in the elections. And if you change your mind about the job, you know where to find me."
"I won't change my mind," Han said.
"Yeah," Taj said. "Well, good luck, Han. It was good seeing you again."
"Good seeing you, too, Taj. And Marina."
"I'll tell her. Clear skies, Han Solo."
"To you, too. Good luck with those pirates."
They shook hands. Then Taj stepped back to give the Falcon a final once-over and nodded. "Nice ship," he said.
-----
Chapter Sixteen
"Again!" Luke demanded.
"I can't!" she wailed.
"Again!" he repeated.
Limply she picked up her lightsaber and swung it at the seekers. She parried the first bolt of energy that shot towards her, but was too slow for the second. It caught her painfully across the leg, and she fell to the ground with a cry.
"Get up!" Luke ordered. He was pushing her past her limit, trying to elicit some sort of response. Briande needed to know that she was human, susceptible to human strengths and failings, to know that her feelings were as much a part of her as her arms and her legs.
Briande pushed her legs underneath her, and pushed the pain and anger out of her mind. One seeker, at Luke's direction, circled around her. She swung blindly and missed. The second seeker struck her on the back of the leg. She fell to the ground once more.
"Do you feel it?" the Jedi asked. He was beginning to feel it from her. He finally had begun to realize that whenever Briande was emotionally charged, the Force around her grew stronger. "Briande, you have to unlearn what you've taught yourself. Stop pretending that you can divorce your feelings."
"I...am...not—" she pulled herself slowly to her knees, but was unable to rise any further. One of the seekers darted low for an attack. Briande swung at it, but it dodged her blade easily. The bolt hit her in the side, knocking her to the ground again. She clutched at the pain and lay there, moaning, unable to move. "--pretending!" she finished.
"You must unlearn!" Luke insisted. "Briande, listen to me. You're not going to move ahead any if you keep holding to delusions." He hesitated for a moment, sensing something, then added, "Let go of them, Brie!"
Somewhere, somehow, Briande found the strength to stand again. "Don't...call me...that!"
"It's your name, isn't it?" As he spoke, the seekers repositioned themselves. "It's what your sister used to call you, and your father. Isn't it, Brie?"
He felt energy rising up through the Force, accompanied by a surge of anger. She wasn't hiding her rage now, not even from herself. "I'm not...that person...anymore!"
Streaks of light shot out from the seekers in quick succession. Briande parried them all.
"You're angry now, aren't you?"
"Yes!" she shouted.
"Why?"
"Because I hurt, because you—" She stopped suddenly, unable to finish, frozen like a statue, as she realized what she was saying. Then she began to tremble, all over.
"Don’t deny it, Brie! Don’t cover it up. You’re angry, and you’re hurt. That’s who you are right now. Don’t bury it!"
Briande's body continued to shake, only a little at first, and then more and more violently, until it looked like she was in the throws of a convulsive fit.
All at once, the Force around Luke grew cold. Dark.
In that moment, Luke realized his mistake. He had been trying to get her to acknowledge her emotions by pushing one of them beyond the point where it was impossible to deny. He had concentrated on anger, because it was the easiest to elicit. But anger was also the most difficult to control, the easiest path to the Dark Side.
He was in danger of losing Briande now.
He took a step towards her. "Listen to me, Brie—Briande. I know you're angry. But now that you're aware of your anger, you can control it. You've acknowledged it, now let it go. Don't let it take you over."
Luke's pupil gave a tremendous shudder and turned to face him. Her eyes glinted like cold fire.
But they were no longer Briande's eyes.
It was her body, but the eyes...they belonged to someone else. The eyes were...something evil.
"Fight it, Briande!" he urged. But she needed a weapon to fight the anger with, and he had none to give her.
What had he done?
The face that had been Briande's broke into a cold smile. "You fool," she said. Her voice held a weird, unworldly quality. "Briande is no longer here."
Luke remained calm. Surreptitiously, he moved his hand to his lightsaber. "Fight it, Brie!"
"So, young Skywalker, we meet again."
"Again?" Luke took a step backwards to put more space between himself and this...being. Whoever it was. “Who am I talking to? Brenna?”
"We have been reborn. And now we grow even stronger. Tell me, young Jedi, how does it feel to be the agent of your own destruction?"
She brought the lightsaber crashing towards Luke's head. Instantly, Luke met the blade with his own. Who was he fighting? Brenna Brellis? Why was she using the plural "we"? For a brief instant, he wondered if Briande and Brenna weren’t, in fact, the same person, if Briande had some sort of multiple personalities, but he knew that was not true. This was a Force-possession. He pushed Briande's weapon away with his own. "Briande, fight it!"
"Foolish Jedi! Did you not realize what you were doing when you urged her to anger? You have made our power over her complete."
"You haven't won yet," Luke insisted. "Fight them, Brie!"
"She is with us, now. You cannot turn her back."
Who is us? Luke wondered.
She attacked him again. There was no trace of the weakness Briande had displayed earlier with the seekers. Her offense was strong and powerful. Luke met the attack with equal skill, calling on every ounce of his training as a Jedi Knight, and then jumped away from her. He could still feel a trace of Briande somewhere, but he didn't know how to pull it back. What she had told him of her vision returned to him. She had said she would kill him with a lightsaber to the throat. Was now the time?
Foolish, foolish pride, he berated himself. He should have known he was no teacher. Would Briande now suffer the same fate his father had?
He had to find a way to help Briande fight the evil from within, find something for her to use against it. If he didn't, if she couldn't conquer the Darkness, then he would be forced to destroy her. And Luke...couldn't...kill her.
But if he didn't, she would surely kill him.
Briande pressed another attack. Luke parried the blow, parried the next and the next. He brought his blade around to ready his own attack. Perhaps if he forced her to retreat...
In that split-instant, Luke suddenly realized that he couldn't do it. A counter-attack only fed anger and a desire for retaliation, it did nothing to stop them. Luke would have to find some other weapon to use against the anger.
He took a step backwards.
Momentarily taken aback by Luke's broken attack, Briande hesitated. Then she lunged at him again, swinging her energy weapon at Luke's head.
Luke blocked her blade, stopped it, but did not return the blow, made no attempt at a reposte. He retreated again.
Briande paused again, only for a fraction of a second, then brought her weapon back up and around, aiming for his head again and then feinting at the last possible instant for a cut to his mid-section.
Again Luke defended himself. Again he retreated without making any aggressive moves.
For an immeasurable fraction of a second longer this time, Briande hesitated again.
"Briande—" Luke began, breaking off as he had to bring his saber up to protect himself. "Brie, don't!"
"You are wasting your time, Jedi. You should kill her now, while you have the chance." Briande lowered her guard deliberately, but Luke knew it was a taunt, to try to goad him into an attack. He ignored it.
"Come on, Briande, fight it! You can resist. Don't let them do this!"
For a second, Briande's eyes became wide and confused. In that brief space, Luke thought that he had reached at least a part of Briande and pulled her back. But then the eyes flamed again, and she rushed at Luke with a flurry of blows.
The Jedi warded them all off. It was difficult, for she was now as powerful as Vader had been. Still, he used only defensive moves. He did not attack. But this time he did not retreat, either. He remained where he was, and when she finished, he lowered his blade.
Briande appeared indecisive for a moment, then made a short half-lunge at Luke, which he blocked easily. This time, she retreated.
Then Luke made a sudden decision. It was taking a great risk, but then he had taken a similar risk once before. He had sensed something in the Darth Vader then, and he sensed something vaguely similar in Briande now. Furthermore, ‘they’ had wanted him to kill her. Why would ‘they,’ unless ‘they’ knew something about Briande that he didn’t? Slowly, without taking his eyes off her, he lowered his defense completely and switched his lightsaber off.
Briande stared at the deactivated energy sword in his hand, then at his face, and then back at his hand again. Slowly she adjusted her stance, readied her attack, expecting some sort of trick.
Suddenly, without warning, she swung her weapon high, aiming for Luke's throat.
Luke didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't even try to deflect the cut. It took all of his control to remain absolutely still. Every self-preservation instinct wanted to fight.
Just as suddenly as the attack had begun, only inches away from its intended target, the blade stopped. Briande had been unable to follow through. She pulled back and started again, but once more broke off before the attack was completed.
Her face was contorted by the conflict of emotions and personalities that fought within her, her breathing irregular. But her eyes were urgently imploring Luke for assistance. She made another movement, much smaller this time, but still Luke did not react. Her hand began to tremble.
"Help me, Luke," she pleaded in a whisper, in her own voice. "I don't want to hurt you..."
"Take it easy, Briande," the Jedi said softly. "It's okay. I'm—" He took a step toward her but stopped when she pointed her laser sword at him threateningly. "Just relax. I'm here with you."
"I can't fight her. They're too strong for me..."
"No, they’re not. They can only control you if you let them. Don’t let them. Push them out. You can be angry, without letting it control you. You can be hurt, you can be scared, without letting them in."
“I can’t...block...”
“You don’t need to block. You don’t need to do anything, except be. Just be yourself.” He took another step and stopped when he saw that she was only becoming more agitated. "Turn your lightsaber off, Briande."
"I...can't..." she sobbed.
"It's okay, now. Look—I'm putting my weapon down." Slowly, very slowly, Luke knelt down and put his deactivated energy sword on the ground. "See? Put yours down, too." He didn't move any closer—she needed space. But he tried to soothe her with his words.
Briande was sobbing openly now, still battling with herself internally. "Luke—"
"It's all right, Briande. Everything's going to be fine. Just put your sword on the ground. Right down there."
Briande looked at the spot he had indicated, then made another motion as if to attack him. Then she stopped and looked at the ground again. Her hand shook.
"Yes, that's right. Just set it right down there. You can do it."
Hesitantly, with a thousand starts and stops, her whole body shaking now, Briande slowly knelt down and put her lightsaber on the ground. It was still activated. She looked at it for a second, and then picked it up again.
"I can't fight them..."
"You are fighting them, Brie. They wanted you to kill me, and you didn't. You're stronger than they are. You can resist them."
Briande looked at the saber in her hand. She seemed to want to set it down again, but the muscles in her arm and body would not move.
Then slowly, in infinitesimal steps, her thumb crept to the control stud. She sweated profusely, the tiny movement taking all of her strength and concentration. Finally, she touched the button.
The quickness with which the blade was deactivated seemed to startle something awake in Briande. As if she had been holding something on fire, her hand flattened downward, and the weapon dropped to the ground.
All at once, Briande screamed as if in agony. The heels of her hands flew to her temples, pressing against great pain, but whether the pain was physical or otherwise, Luke couldn't tell.
She staggered forward a couple of steps. Luke caught her.
"You did it, Brie! You beat them!"
Briande looked at him with a strange look, a need. The pain was gone now, and the lightsabers lay forgotten on the ground, but there was an incompleteness about her. The cold glint was gone from her eyes but there was no warm light to replace it. She had beaten the evil, but she had still not quite won. Part of Briande was here with him, but part of her was still lost somewhere, and he could feel her moving further and further away. Her body had become a shell, nearly empty except for the need to fill the void where her soul, her self, had been.
"It's okay," Luke murmured, moving closer to her. "It's okay now, Briande." He enfolded her in his arms and rocked her gently. Come back to me, he pleaded silently. Please, please come back to me.
Suddenly he felt her pressing her body against him. Surprised, he pulled away enough to look at her, and she quickly pressed her mouth against his as well.
Then Luke understood. She had found what she needed to fight the anger when he had not. This was also a part of Briande, these feelings. She had felt them, suppressed them, and tried to deny them, but they were still a part of her. He had been trying to get her to acknowledge her emotions, to stop walling them behind the fortress she had built, and that was exactly what she was doing. It was love that had conquered the anger, and now she was trying to pull herself back by acknowledging her love for him.
As her essence returned to its rightful place, he could feel her want, her need. At the same time, he could feel his own need, like a great hole inside him, as empty as the void inside Briande had been. He’d been incomplete. He knew that, and never more than at this moment.
But he was her teacher, and she was his student. There were too many other needs, other concerns which came first. He had known he was attracted to her since the first time he saw her clearly in the prison cell, but a Jedi's first responsibility lay with others, not with himself. And if he sometimes heard the echo of loneliness shouting inside his empty place, he told himself to look to Ben, and to Yoda, and reminded himself that the life of the Je-he-di was often solitary.
Yet he could not deny his own feelings, either. It was only acceptance that could pull Briande back into herself, that could make himself whole, too. They completed each other, in body and spirit, in mind and in soul, filled each other’s empty places so that there was no echo, and the loneliness was crowded out. She filled him, filled his empty place, with something invisible that was nonetheless real, and it expanded inside him, like a balloon about to burst.
He remembered something Leia had said to him the last time he had seen her. It was true; there was no rule that said Jedi Knights had to be celibate. Personal wants and desires could be entertained as long as they did not interfere with the well-being of others. It was only abuse in seeking personal gratifications that was to be avoided.
Love, in itself, had never been an evil thing. It was, in fact, it was the central core of a Jedi, the very root of the word, of a Jedi’s actions. It was only the perversion of love that was to be avoided, perversion twisted by the Dark Side into something other than its true form.
This was not that, not a perversion. This was love in one of its purest forms.
Luke had known love many times, in many forms. He had first known the guiding, parental love of his aunt and uncle. Later, he had known the love between friends, between a brother and sister, between a son and father, and between a student and his teachers. He had tried to convince himself that what he felt for Briande was nothing more than the love of a teacher for his student.
But it wasn't true. Not really, not completely.
He felt himself drawn to Briande as a man to a woman. And drawn to himself, as well. The completeness with which she filled his arms and his soul made him feel finally whole. They were, both of them, Je-he-di, in every possible sense of the word. They were lovers, in the spiritual, emotional, and now even physical planes. They were each other’s Se-he-idth, chosen from among all the other possible souls they could come to know. Je-he-di and Se-he-idth, both, separate and together. Complete.
The future and the past faded together as the reality of the moment grew stronger. Gone were Brenna, Palpatine, the visions of darkness, and the fears of uncertainty. It was just Briande and Luke, here and now, finding each other and themselves in a shared present that seemed to engulf all of eternity.
As his mouth joined freely with hers, Luke knew that this moment, this union between them, this mutual completion, was right. It was as if this was the way things were always meant to be, and the way they were always meant to continue.
But the future was always in motion.
"Again!" Luke demanded.
"I can't!" she wailed.
"Again!" he repeated.
Limply she picked up her lightsaber and swung it at the seekers. She parried the first bolt of energy that shot towards her, but was too slow for the second. It caught her painfully across the leg, and she fell to the ground with a cry.
"Get up!" Luke ordered. He was pushing her past her limit, trying to elicit some sort of response. Briande needed to know that she was human, susceptible to human strengths and failings, to know that her feelings were as much a part of her as her arms and her legs.
Briande pushed her legs underneath her, and pushed the pain and anger out of her mind. One seeker, at Luke's direction, circled around her. She swung blindly and missed. The second seeker struck her on the back of the leg. She fell to the ground once more.
"Do you feel it?" the Jedi asked. He was beginning to feel it from her. He finally had begun to realize that whenever Briande was emotionally charged, the Force around her grew stronger. "Briande, you have to unlearn what you've taught yourself. Stop pretending that you can divorce your feelings."
"I...am...not—" she pulled herself slowly to her knees, but was unable to rise any further. One of the seekers darted low for an attack. Briande swung at it, but it dodged her blade easily. The bolt hit her in the side, knocking her to the ground again. She clutched at the pain and lay there, moaning, unable to move. "--pretending!" she finished.
"You must unlearn!" Luke insisted. "Briande, listen to me. You're not going to move ahead any if you keep holding to delusions." He hesitated for a moment, sensing something, then added, "Let go of them, Brie!"
Somewhere, somehow, Briande found the strength to stand again. "Don't...call me...that!"
"It's your name, isn't it?" As he spoke, the seekers repositioned themselves. "It's what your sister used to call you, and your father. Isn't it, Brie?"
He felt energy rising up through the Force, accompanied by a surge of anger. She wasn't hiding her rage now, not even from herself. "I'm not...that person...anymore!"
Streaks of light shot out from the seekers in quick succession. Briande parried them all.
"You're angry now, aren't you?"
"Yes!" she shouted.
"Why?"
"Because I hurt, because you—" She stopped suddenly, unable to finish, frozen like a statue, as she realized what she was saying. Then she began to tremble, all over.
"Don’t deny it, Brie! Don’t cover it up. You’re angry, and you’re hurt. That’s who you are right now. Don’t bury it!"
Briande's body continued to shake, only a little at first, and then more and more violently, until it looked like she was in the throws of a convulsive fit.
All at once, the Force around Luke grew cold. Dark.
In that moment, Luke realized his mistake. He had been trying to get her to acknowledge her emotions by pushing one of them beyond the point where it was impossible to deny. He had concentrated on anger, because it was the easiest to elicit. But anger was also the most difficult to control, the easiest path to the Dark Side.
He was in danger of losing Briande now.
He took a step towards her. "Listen to me, Brie—Briande. I know you're angry. But now that you're aware of your anger, you can control it. You've acknowledged it, now let it go. Don't let it take you over."
Luke's pupil gave a tremendous shudder and turned to face him. Her eyes glinted like cold fire.
But they were no longer Briande's eyes.
It was her body, but the eyes...they belonged to someone else. The eyes were...something evil.
"Fight it, Briande!" he urged. But she needed a weapon to fight the anger with, and he had none to give her.
What had he done?
The face that had been Briande's broke into a cold smile. "You fool," she said. Her voice held a weird, unworldly quality. "Briande is no longer here."
Luke remained calm. Surreptitiously, he moved his hand to his lightsaber. "Fight it, Brie!"
"So, young Skywalker, we meet again."
"Again?" Luke took a step backwards to put more space between himself and this...being. Whoever it was. “Who am I talking to? Brenna?”
"We have been reborn. And now we grow even stronger. Tell me, young Jedi, how does it feel to be the agent of your own destruction?"
She brought the lightsaber crashing towards Luke's head. Instantly, Luke met the blade with his own. Who was he fighting? Brenna Brellis? Why was she using the plural "we"? For a brief instant, he wondered if Briande and Brenna weren’t, in fact, the same person, if Briande had some sort of multiple personalities, but he knew that was not true. This was a Force-possession. He pushed Briande's weapon away with his own. "Briande, fight it!"
"Foolish Jedi! Did you not realize what you were doing when you urged her to anger? You have made our power over her complete."
"You haven't won yet," Luke insisted. "Fight them, Brie!"
"She is with us, now. You cannot turn her back."
Who is us? Luke wondered.
She attacked him again. There was no trace of the weakness Briande had displayed earlier with the seekers. Her offense was strong and powerful. Luke met the attack with equal skill, calling on every ounce of his training as a Jedi Knight, and then jumped away from her. He could still feel a trace of Briande somewhere, but he didn't know how to pull it back. What she had told him of her vision returned to him. She had said she would kill him with a lightsaber to the throat. Was now the time?
Foolish, foolish pride, he berated himself. He should have known he was no teacher. Would Briande now suffer the same fate his father had?
He had to find a way to help Briande fight the evil from within, find something for her to use against it. If he didn't, if she couldn't conquer the Darkness, then he would be forced to destroy her. And Luke...couldn't...kill her.
But if he didn't, she would surely kill him.
Briande pressed another attack. Luke parried the blow, parried the next and the next. He brought his blade around to ready his own attack. Perhaps if he forced her to retreat...
In that split-instant, Luke suddenly realized that he couldn't do it. A counter-attack only fed anger and a desire for retaliation, it did nothing to stop them. Luke would have to find some other weapon to use against the anger.
He took a step backwards.
Momentarily taken aback by Luke's broken attack, Briande hesitated. Then she lunged at him again, swinging her energy weapon at Luke's head.
Luke blocked her blade, stopped it, but did not return the blow, made no attempt at a reposte. He retreated again.
Briande paused again, only for a fraction of a second, then brought her weapon back up and around, aiming for his head again and then feinting at the last possible instant for a cut to his mid-section.
Again Luke defended himself. Again he retreated without making any aggressive moves.
For an immeasurable fraction of a second longer this time, Briande hesitated again.
"Briande—" Luke began, breaking off as he had to bring his saber up to protect himself. "Brie, don't!"
"You are wasting your time, Jedi. You should kill her now, while you have the chance." Briande lowered her guard deliberately, but Luke knew it was a taunt, to try to goad him into an attack. He ignored it.
"Come on, Briande, fight it! You can resist. Don't let them do this!"
For a second, Briande's eyes became wide and confused. In that brief space, Luke thought that he had reached at least a part of Briande and pulled her back. But then the eyes flamed again, and she rushed at Luke with a flurry of blows.
The Jedi warded them all off. It was difficult, for she was now as powerful as Vader had been. Still, he used only defensive moves. He did not attack. But this time he did not retreat, either. He remained where he was, and when she finished, he lowered his blade.
Briande appeared indecisive for a moment, then made a short half-lunge at Luke, which he blocked easily. This time, she retreated.
Then Luke made a sudden decision. It was taking a great risk, but then he had taken a similar risk once before. He had sensed something in the Darth Vader then, and he sensed something vaguely similar in Briande now. Furthermore, ‘they’ had wanted him to kill her. Why would ‘they,’ unless ‘they’ knew something about Briande that he didn’t? Slowly, without taking his eyes off her, he lowered his defense completely and switched his lightsaber off.
Briande stared at the deactivated energy sword in his hand, then at his face, and then back at his hand again. Slowly she adjusted her stance, readied her attack, expecting some sort of trick.
Suddenly, without warning, she swung her weapon high, aiming for Luke's throat.
Luke didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't even try to deflect the cut. It took all of his control to remain absolutely still. Every self-preservation instinct wanted to fight.
Just as suddenly as the attack had begun, only inches away from its intended target, the blade stopped. Briande had been unable to follow through. She pulled back and started again, but once more broke off before the attack was completed.
Her face was contorted by the conflict of emotions and personalities that fought within her, her breathing irregular. But her eyes were urgently imploring Luke for assistance. She made another movement, much smaller this time, but still Luke did not react. Her hand began to tremble.
"Help me, Luke," she pleaded in a whisper, in her own voice. "I don't want to hurt you..."
"Take it easy, Briande," the Jedi said softly. "It's okay. I'm—" He took a step toward her but stopped when she pointed her laser sword at him threateningly. "Just relax. I'm here with you."
"I can't fight her. They're too strong for me..."
"No, they’re not. They can only control you if you let them. Don’t let them. Push them out. You can be angry, without letting it control you. You can be hurt, you can be scared, without letting them in."
“I can’t...block...”
“You don’t need to block. You don’t need to do anything, except be. Just be yourself.” He took another step and stopped when he saw that she was only becoming more agitated. "Turn your lightsaber off, Briande."
"I...can't..." she sobbed.
"It's okay, now. Look—I'm putting my weapon down." Slowly, very slowly, Luke knelt down and put his deactivated energy sword on the ground. "See? Put yours down, too." He didn't move any closer—she needed space. But he tried to soothe her with his words.
Briande was sobbing openly now, still battling with herself internally. "Luke—"
"It's all right, Briande. Everything's going to be fine. Just put your sword on the ground. Right down there."
Briande looked at the spot he had indicated, then made another motion as if to attack him. Then she stopped and looked at the ground again. Her hand shook.
"Yes, that's right. Just set it right down there. You can do it."
Hesitantly, with a thousand starts and stops, her whole body shaking now, Briande slowly knelt down and put her lightsaber on the ground. It was still activated. She looked at it for a second, and then picked it up again.
"I can't fight them..."
"You are fighting them, Brie. They wanted you to kill me, and you didn't. You're stronger than they are. You can resist them."
Briande looked at the saber in her hand. She seemed to want to set it down again, but the muscles in her arm and body would not move.
Then slowly, in infinitesimal steps, her thumb crept to the control stud. She sweated profusely, the tiny movement taking all of her strength and concentration. Finally, she touched the button.
The quickness with which the blade was deactivated seemed to startle something awake in Briande. As if she had been holding something on fire, her hand flattened downward, and the weapon dropped to the ground.
All at once, Briande screamed as if in agony. The heels of her hands flew to her temples, pressing against great pain, but whether the pain was physical or otherwise, Luke couldn't tell.
She staggered forward a couple of steps. Luke caught her.
"You did it, Brie! You beat them!"
Briande looked at him with a strange look, a need. The pain was gone now, and the lightsabers lay forgotten on the ground, but there was an incompleteness about her. The cold glint was gone from her eyes but there was no warm light to replace it. She had beaten the evil, but she had still not quite won. Part of Briande was here with him, but part of her was still lost somewhere, and he could feel her moving further and further away. Her body had become a shell, nearly empty except for the need to fill the void where her soul, her self, had been.
"It's okay," Luke murmured, moving closer to her. "It's okay now, Briande." He enfolded her in his arms and rocked her gently. Come back to me, he pleaded silently. Please, please come back to me.
Suddenly he felt her pressing her body against him. Surprised, he pulled away enough to look at her, and she quickly pressed her mouth against his as well.
Then Luke understood. She had found what she needed to fight the anger when he had not. This was also a part of Briande, these feelings. She had felt them, suppressed them, and tried to deny them, but they were still a part of her. He had been trying to get her to acknowledge her emotions, to stop walling them behind the fortress she had built, and that was exactly what she was doing. It was love that had conquered the anger, and now she was trying to pull herself back by acknowledging her love for him.
As her essence returned to its rightful place, he could feel her want, her need. At the same time, he could feel his own need, like a great hole inside him, as empty as the void inside Briande had been. He’d been incomplete. He knew that, and never more than at this moment.
But he was her teacher, and she was his student. There were too many other needs, other concerns which came first. He had known he was attracted to her since the first time he saw her clearly in the prison cell, but a Jedi's first responsibility lay with others, not with himself. And if he sometimes heard the echo of loneliness shouting inside his empty place, he told himself to look to Ben, and to Yoda, and reminded himself that the life of the Je-he-di was often solitary.
Yet he could not deny his own feelings, either. It was only acceptance that could pull Briande back into herself, that could make himself whole, too. They completed each other, in body and spirit, in mind and in soul, filled each other’s empty places so that there was no echo, and the loneliness was crowded out. She filled him, filled his empty place, with something invisible that was nonetheless real, and it expanded inside him, like a balloon about to burst.
He remembered something Leia had said to him the last time he had seen her. It was true; there was no rule that said Jedi Knights had to be celibate. Personal wants and desires could be entertained as long as they did not interfere with the well-being of others. It was only abuse in seeking personal gratifications that was to be avoided.
Love, in itself, had never been an evil thing. It was, in fact, it was the central core of a Jedi, the very root of the word, of a Jedi’s actions. It was only the perversion of love that was to be avoided, perversion twisted by the Dark Side into something other than its true form.
This was not that, not a perversion. This was love in one of its purest forms.
Luke had known love many times, in many forms. He had first known the guiding, parental love of his aunt and uncle. Later, he had known the love between friends, between a brother and sister, between a son and father, and between a student and his teachers. He had tried to convince himself that what he felt for Briande was nothing more than the love of a teacher for his student.
But it wasn't true. Not really, not completely.
He felt himself drawn to Briande as a man to a woman. And drawn to himself, as well. The completeness with which she filled his arms and his soul made him feel finally whole. They were, both of them, Je-he-di, in every possible sense of the word. They were lovers, in the spiritual, emotional, and now even physical planes. They were each other’s Se-he-idth, chosen from among all the other possible souls they could come to know. Je-he-di and Se-he-idth, both, separate and together. Complete.
The future and the past faded together as the reality of the moment grew stronger. Gone were Brenna, Palpatine, the visions of darkness, and the fears of uncertainty. It was just Briande and Luke, here and now, finding each other and themselves in a shared present that seemed to engulf all of eternity.
As his mouth joined freely with hers, Luke knew that this moment, this union between them, this mutual completion, was right. It was as if this was the way things were always meant to be, and the way they were always meant to continue.
But the future was always in motion.
-----
Chapter Seventeen
Han skimmed along the planet surface using the coordinates Leia had given him. "Huh! I don't pick up any landing field on my sensors."
"Paranoia." Leia replied. "They didn't want the Empire to know about it, so they kept it hidden. Just keep following the coordinates. My voice print is on file. By the time we get there, they'll have it matched and open the hangar door for us."
"Hhhmmphh." Han grunted. He took another look at his sensor readouts. "I thought you said this was a mining planet."
"It is."
"I don't pick up any strip-craters on my scanners."
"There aren't any."
"Then how—?"
"You'll see," Leia promised with a smile. "There are other ways of mining a planet than destroying the ecology. Panderaan may only be an off-world colony of Alderaan, but we still retain the old values."
"Doesn't look like there's much down there."
"Appearances can be deceiving."
"Um, Leia? Those coordinates you gave me go straight into the side of that large mountain up there."
"Right," she agreed.
"So? You want to crash?"
"Well, you could slow down a bit."
"What, and spoil all the fun?" Nevertheless, Han reduced his airspeed, wondering at the same time if his wife wasn't a good candidate for one of those mental-health recuperative spas instead of a candidate for political office. "Well, Leia, it looks as though—" He broke off as a hole suddenly opened up in the side of the mountain. "Well I'll be a Wookiee's cousin."
Chewbacca growled.
Han grinned. "Don't worry, Pal. I was speaking in the figurative sense." He recorded the landing instructions and nudged his ship into the opening. Han noted that it was large enough to admit a single ship of almost any landing-craft size, but was small enough to give a strategically sound defense against any aerial attack on the landing field itself. Of course, the small opening also meant that escape for anyone inside would be that much more difficult...
He mentioned that observation to Leia, who nodded. "Panderaan is a small mining colony. It was never really strategically important until the destruction of Alderaan. Like Alderaan, it has no weapons. But it does have enough ore and raw materials to warrant some sort of defense. My father was the one who suggested the underground field."
"What's to stop an invasionary fleet from landing on the surface and storming the place?"
"Nothing really," Leia admitted. "We do have a system to protect from small pirate raiders and such, but as for an all-out invasion—I'm afraid there's nothing that we can really do."
"Sounds peachie," Han said with a grimace. "Why in the name of the seven gods do you want to represent Panderaan in the Senate?"
"It's more than just Panderaan, Han. With Alderaan gone, Panderaan becomes the key figure for the Deraan Systems. The Deraan planets are small, but we've always had a very influential position in the Senate."
Han grunted. He didn't care much for politics anyway, and it didn't really matter to him what Leia's proposed constitution looked like. He followed the mountain tunnel downward until it opened out into a wide landing field—underground. He suddenly understood why there were no strip craters. The place was huge. And the smooth walls, ceiling, and floor told Han that it had been mined from the within.
It was hard to believe that a cavern this large could have been cut out from the insides of a mountain. The ventilation problems must have been tremendous. Han whistled softly. Very impressive. The traffic-controller directed him to a landing site, and Han touched down smoothly. Leia spoke into the microphone, giving some sort of clearance code, but Han couldn't hear what she said. As he shut down ship's systems, Han saw, through exterior cameras, a small uniformed armed patrol coming towards the Falcon. There were only three of them, not much of a threat, and Han thought that they were more of an honor guard for the Princess than anything else. They came to a halt just outside the main gangplank and stood at attention. Han ignored them while he finished shutting down. When he was done, he stood up and moved aft, but Leia touched his arm just as he hit the control to lower the gangplank. "Let me go first," she said. "Wait for me to call you."
Normally the captain of a vessel went first. Han shrugged and pretended to do as she asked. But he did not wait for her to call him, and followed her behind her line of vision. "Three passengers," Leia was saying in response to some question. "Myself, my husband, and one noncitizen."
"Armament?" one of the soldiers queried.
"Two manned guns, one belly-turret, one—" she broke off suddenly as Han stepped on her foot.
"Hi, folks!" Han said buoyantly. "How's business?"
The soldier who had been doing the questioning didn't show her annoyance. She just looked at Han and said, "Excuse me, sir. Are you a citizen?"
Han was surprised at the question, but he noticed that the other two soldiers had their hands near their holsters. Stun guns, nothing more. "No," he said.
"Yes," Leia corrected. "Citizen through marriage."
"Of course."
"Now, armament, please?"
Han cut in before Leia could say anything. "Two manned guns, and a belly-turret," he said, listing the guns that Leia had already mentioned, and which were visible from the outside.
"Is that all?"
"No," Leia interjected. Han coughed loudly to stop her or drown her out. It didn't do any good. "A proton bomb dispenser, and personal side-arms."
"Leia—" Han whispered warningly.
"Oh, and a concealed strafing rifle."
Han looked heavenward. As soon as they were alone, he and Leia were going to have a serious talk.
"Acknowledged. Officially, I can't wish you good luck in the coming election, but I can wish you a pleasant stay on Panderaan, Your Highness."
"I understand. Thank you, Captain."
"And congratulations on your marriage. To both of you." The Captain nodded to Han, turned, and marched away, flanked by her two aids.
Han waited until they were out of earshot, and then turned to his wife, pent-up anger rising inside of him. "Now just what," he asked roughly, "was that all about?"
"I'm sorry, Han. But they will do a weapons scan anyway, and withholding weapons information is grounds for exclusion from the City."
"Leia, all my weapons except for the manned guns and belly turret are scanner-blocked."
"I couldn't take the chance that they wouldn't be detected. Besides, you have nothing to worry about. The dismantling is only temporary. The tech crews will have them operational again before you leave as long as you give at least a day-cycle's notice."
'Dismantled!?" Han said in disbelief. "Leia, what the hell are you doing to me?"
"Really, Han," Leia said in mild surprise. "It's standard procedure. I don't see why you're so upset."
"Leia, it's never been standard procedure on any other planet I've ever visited."
"Well…I'm sorry. But this is my world. It's the closest thing to home I've got any more. If you would just…follow my lead while we're here, at least until the debate and elections are over with…"
Han crossed his arms and regarded her. "The same way you followed my lead on Corellia?"
She sighed. "You're right. You're right. I'm sorry."
"Okay, Leia. We'll play it your way. I'll do whatever you want as long as we're here."
"And when we get back to Coruscant?"
"We'll figure it out then."
She smiled and hugged him. "Thank you. We'll leave right after the election, I promise. In the meantime…Come on! I want to show you what Deraan Two really looks like!"
.
.
.
Leia had invited Chewie to come along on her tour, but the Wookiee indicated that he preferred to stay with the Falcon. She took Han on a tour of the Capital City. From the air, it hadn't looked like much—a few office buildings, a lot of residences—hardly even worth being called a "city," much less a "capital." But what Han hadn't realized—indeed, what any off-worlder didn't know—was that the real cities of Deraan Two were underground. Leia took him through a complex network of wide tunnels busy with foot traffic, to point out this museum, and that concert hall, and this other theatre. There were shops of every kind, selling clothes, jewelry, flowers, food—whatever. He didn't have a clue how she knew where to go, until she pointed out the various color-coded signs posted at the tunnel intersections.
She seemed be drawn to the red color-codes, then stopped at a kiosk, typed something in, and smiled at the information she got back. "We're in luck!" she told Han. "There's a concert featuring Razh'm'bruk's Opus Number Twelve! It's one of my favorites!"
She led Han to a cluster of shops, bought him something to eat, and disappeared into a clothing shop. By the time he finished the sweet whatever-it-was and was trying to wipe his hands clean, she came out wearing a diaphanous gown and carrying two packages. One held her travel clothes. The other she held out to Han. He waved his hand to indicate that he didn't want to change out of his flight-clothes, and she grimaced, but didn't push it.
Then she led him to a tunnel and an entrance to a large natural cavern. They took seats near the front. The musicians took their places. The audience hushed. And the musicians began plucking the strings of their instruments.
Han could see why Leia liked this music. It was very soothing. Han wriggled in his chair, trying to get comfortable. He propped his feet up on the support bar of the chair in front of him.
Yes, indeed, the music was very soothing.
Very soothing.
The next thing he knew, Leia was jabbing him in the ribs, and telling him to stop snoring.
Han skimmed along the planet surface using the coordinates Leia had given him. "Huh! I don't pick up any landing field on my sensors."
"Paranoia." Leia replied. "They didn't want the Empire to know about it, so they kept it hidden. Just keep following the coordinates. My voice print is on file. By the time we get there, they'll have it matched and open the hangar door for us."
"Hhhmmphh." Han grunted. He took another look at his sensor readouts. "I thought you said this was a mining planet."
"It is."
"I don't pick up any strip-craters on my scanners."
"There aren't any."
"Then how—?"
"You'll see," Leia promised with a smile. "There are other ways of mining a planet than destroying the ecology. Panderaan may only be an off-world colony of Alderaan, but we still retain the old values."
"Doesn't look like there's much down there."
"Appearances can be deceiving."
"Um, Leia? Those coordinates you gave me go straight into the side of that large mountain up there."
"Right," she agreed.
"So? You want to crash?"
"Well, you could slow down a bit."
"What, and spoil all the fun?" Nevertheless, Han reduced his airspeed, wondering at the same time if his wife wasn't a good candidate for one of those mental-health recuperative spas instead of a candidate for political office. "Well, Leia, it looks as though—" He broke off as a hole suddenly opened up in the side of the mountain. "Well I'll be a Wookiee's cousin."
Chewbacca growled.
Han grinned. "Don't worry, Pal. I was speaking in the figurative sense." He recorded the landing instructions and nudged his ship into the opening. Han noted that it was large enough to admit a single ship of almost any landing-craft size, but was small enough to give a strategically sound defense against any aerial attack on the landing field itself. Of course, the small opening also meant that escape for anyone inside would be that much more difficult...
He mentioned that observation to Leia, who nodded. "Panderaan is a small mining colony. It was never really strategically important until the destruction of Alderaan. Like Alderaan, it has no weapons. But it does have enough ore and raw materials to warrant some sort of defense. My father was the one who suggested the underground field."
"What's to stop an invasionary fleet from landing on the surface and storming the place?"
"Nothing really," Leia admitted. "We do have a system to protect from small pirate raiders and such, but as for an all-out invasion—I'm afraid there's nothing that we can really do."
"Sounds peachie," Han said with a grimace. "Why in the name of the seven gods do you want to represent Panderaan in the Senate?"
"It's more than just Panderaan, Han. With Alderaan gone, Panderaan becomes the key figure for the Deraan Systems. The Deraan planets are small, but we've always had a very influential position in the Senate."
Han grunted. He didn't care much for politics anyway, and it didn't really matter to him what Leia's proposed constitution looked like. He followed the mountain tunnel downward until it opened out into a wide landing field—underground. He suddenly understood why there were no strip craters. The place was huge. And the smooth walls, ceiling, and floor told Han that it had been mined from the within.
It was hard to believe that a cavern this large could have been cut out from the insides of a mountain. The ventilation problems must have been tremendous. Han whistled softly. Very impressive. The traffic-controller directed him to a landing site, and Han touched down smoothly. Leia spoke into the microphone, giving some sort of clearance code, but Han couldn't hear what she said. As he shut down ship's systems, Han saw, through exterior cameras, a small uniformed armed patrol coming towards the Falcon. There were only three of them, not much of a threat, and Han thought that they were more of an honor guard for the Princess than anything else. They came to a halt just outside the main gangplank and stood at attention. Han ignored them while he finished shutting down. When he was done, he stood up and moved aft, but Leia touched his arm just as he hit the control to lower the gangplank. "Let me go first," she said. "Wait for me to call you."
Normally the captain of a vessel went first. Han shrugged and pretended to do as she asked. But he did not wait for her to call him, and followed her behind her line of vision. "Three passengers," Leia was saying in response to some question. "Myself, my husband, and one noncitizen."
"Armament?" one of the soldiers queried.
"Two manned guns, one belly-turret, one—" she broke off suddenly as Han stepped on her foot.
"Hi, folks!" Han said buoyantly. "How's business?"
The soldier who had been doing the questioning didn't show her annoyance. She just looked at Han and said, "Excuse me, sir. Are you a citizen?"
Han was surprised at the question, but he noticed that the other two soldiers had their hands near their holsters. Stun guns, nothing more. "No," he said.
"Yes," Leia corrected. "Citizen through marriage."
"Of course."
"Now, armament, please?"
Han cut in before Leia could say anything. "Two manned guns, and a belly-turret," he said, listing the guns that Leia had already mentioned, and which were visible from the outside.
"Is that all?"
"No," Leia interjected. Han coughed loudly to stop her or drown her out. It didn't do any good. "A proton bomb dispenser, and personal side-arms."
"Leia—" Han whispered warningly.
"Oh, and a concealed strafing rifle."
Han looked heavenward. As soon as they were alone, he and Leia were going to have a serious talk.
"Acknowledged. Officially, I can't wish you good luck in the coming election, but I can wish you a pleasant stay on Panderaan, Your Highness."
"I understand. Thank you, Captain."
"And congratulations on your marriage. To both of you." The Captain nodded to Han, turned, and marched away, flanked by her two aids.
Han waited until they were out of earshot, and then turned to his wife, pent-up anger rising inside of him. "Now just what," he asked roughly, "was that all about?"
"I'm sorry, Han. But they will do a weapons scan anyway, and withholding weapons information is grounds for exclusion from the City."
"Leia, all my weapons except for the manned guns and belly turret are scanner-blocked."
"I couldn't take the chance that they wouldn't be detected. Besides, you have nothing to worry about. The dismantling is only temporary. The tech crews will have them operational again before you leave as long as you give at least a day-cycle's notice."
'Dismantled!?" Han said in disbelief. "Leia, what the hell are you doing to me?"
"Really, Han," Leia said in mild surprise. "It's standard procedure. I don't see why you're so upset."
"Leia, it's never been standard procedure on any other planet I've ever visited."
"Well…I'm sorry. But this is my world. It's the closest thing to home I've got any more. If you would just…follow my lead while we're here, at least until the debate and elections are over with…"
Han crossed his arms and regarded her. "The same way you followed my lead on Corellia?"
She sighed. "You're right. You're right. I'm sorry."
"Okay, Leia. We'll play it your way. I'll do whatever you want as long as we're here."
"And when we get back to Coruscant?"
"We'll figure it out then."
She smiled and hugged him. "Thank you. We'll leave right after the election, I promise. In the meantime…Come on! I want to show you what Deraan Two really looks like!"
.
.
.
Leia had invited Chewie to come along on her tour, but the Wookiee indicated that he preferred to stay with the Falcon. She took Han on a tour of the Capital City. From the air, it hadn't looked like much—a few office buildings, a lot of residences—hardly even worth being called a "city," much less a "capital." But what Han hadn't realized—indeed, what any off-worlder didn't know—was that the real cities of Deraan Two were underground. Leia took him through a complex network of wide tunnels busy with foot traffic, to point out this museum, and that concert hall, and this other theatre. There were shops of every kind, selling clothes, jewelry, flowers, food—whatever. He didn't have a clue how she knew where to go, until she pointed out the various color-coded signs posted at the tunnel intersections.
She seemed be drawn to the red color-codes, then stopped at a kiosk, typed something in, and smiled at the information she got back. "We're in luck!" she told Han. "There's a concert featuring Razh'm'bruk's Opus Number Twelve! It's one of my favorites!"
She led Han to a cluster of shops, bought him something to eat, and disappeared into a clothing shop. By the time he finished the sweet whatever-it-was and was trying to wipe his hands clean, she came out wearing a diaphanous gown and carrying two packages. One held her travel clothes. The other she held out to Han. He waved his hand to indicate that he didn't want to change out of his flight-clothes, and she grimaced, but didn't push it.
Then she led him to a tunnel and an entrance to a large natural cavern. They took seats near the front. The musicians took their places. The audience hushed. And the musicians began plucking the strings of their instruments.
Han could see why Leia liked this music. It was very soothing. Han wriggled in his chair, trying to get comfortable. He propped his feet up on the support bar of the chair in front of him.
Yes, indeed, the music was very soothing.
Very soothing.
The next thing he knew, Leia was jabbing him in the ribs, and telling him to stop snoring.
-----
Chapter Eighteen
"All right," Briande said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "If this doesn't work, we're both in a lot of trouble. Come on, you little field-rat. Eat!"
Luke smiled from the window as he watched Briande dip the corner of the cloth she was holding into a bowl of rehydrated milk, and offer it to the infant kinoll in her lap. The tiny creature sniffed at the soaked rag-end, but stubbornly did not accept it.
"Come on," she said with a hint of exasperation.
"Patience." Luke advised. "Give her time."
Briande glanced up at him through the window, then turned her attention back to the obstinate animal. Luke moved to the doorway and deposited his armload of firewood inside before squatting on the floor across from her.
"How do you know it's a 'her'?" Briande asked.
"Easy," Luke joked, winking. "She's got a female temperament."
Briande didn't return the smile. Luke knew she still felt awkward whenever he teased her.
"Hello," Luke said to the kinoll. He picked it up and rubbed its head lightly with his finger. "Aren't you going to eat for Briande today?" He made a few high-pitched nonsense noises with his mouth which made the kinoll prick its ears up with interest and caused the corners of Briande's mouth to turn up despite herself. Luke gave a little laugh and handed the kinoll back to Briande. She stroked it absently.
Luke stood up, retrieved the firewood, and began adding it to the pile next to the fireplace. He wasn't particularly worried about the kinoll. Despite periods of stubbornness, it was healthy enough; and despite Briande's apparent exasperation, Luke knew she was genuinely attached to it.
"I heard you singing today," Luke remarked, trying to make his voice sound casual.
"Oh." Briande said, embarrassed.
"You have a beautiful voice. I was sorry when you stopped."
Briande shrugged. "I didn't know if you'd approve."
Luke finished with the firewood and sat down beside her. "Actually, I was hoping you'd do it more often. Why wouldn't I approve?"
Briande looked down. Her fingers stroked the kinoll's soft fur a few more times, then returned the small animal to its box. "My...father considered it a frivolous waste of time. Until now, Brenna was the only other person who knew that I liked to sing."
Luke started, shocked that she had felt a need to keep such a talent hidden even from her father. "I'm sorry," Luke said, realizing the enormous amount of trust Briande must have placed in her sister, and the pain she must have felt when that trust was betrayed. He reached for her hand in sympathy. Briande gave him a brief smile before looking down at their intertwined fingers.
Suddenly she stopped smiling and looked at their joined hands with a frown of puzzlement. After a moment, she unlaced her fingers, but continued to hold onto Luke's hand with both of her own. She carefully examined the back, then turned it over to examine the palm. Luke held his breath, waiting.
Finally she looked up at him. "Your hand—it's artificial, isn't it?"
"Yes," Luke said, watching her reaction.
Briande nodded and looked back down. She found the all but invisible seam at the wrist where flesh joined with bionics, and traced it with her finger. "How did you lose it?"
Luke let his breath out slowly, relieved. She was curious, nothing more. "Vader. He cut it off with a lightsaber."
Briande looked at him in surprise. "And you forgave him?"
"Not at first. But then I realized he was being 'gentle' with me. He could have killed me, but he didn't."
"So you won that battle?"
Luke shook his head, remembering. "No, I lost. More than just my hand. But I did learn something from it, about myself...and my father."
"What?"
"That we weren't so different. As much as I was like him, he was also like me. I never actually really won against Darth Vader. I merely... showed him how to win against himself. All I did was show him that the Dark Side was a choice, and he didn't have to choose it."
"I think...I understand. But why didn't you tell me before about your hand—no, wait. You were afraid of my reaction, weren't you. Because of my father. You were afraid that...I would resent it because of what happened to him."
Luke smiled. "Yes. Do you?"
For an answer, Briande pressed his hand to her lips, and her eyes showed an emotion she reserved only for him.
Luke decided suddenly that if Briande was ready to handle the knowledge of his hand, she was ready to handle another kind of knowledge, too. He risked asking a question he had held back until now. "Brie...you said once that the last time you encountered your sister, she tricked you. What did you mean by that?"
Briande looked at him sharply for a moment, then looked away and gazed at some distant memory. "The last time we encountered... The truth is, Luke, I haven't seen Brenna since the day she turned to the Dark Side. The last time we saw each other face to face, she dedicated herself to fight against everything I believed in."
"You haven't seen her since that day?"
"No."
"Did you try to talk to her?"
Briande nodded. "She refused to see me. I sent messages, but she never answered them. I doubt if she even listened to them. I used to think that if I could meet with her in person, I could convince her to turn back. I was sure of it. She probably could have killed me back on Kalmyr, but she didn't. For a long time I thought she had left me alive because she couldn't bring herself to destroy me. Then I learned it was only to torture me with the knowledge of the things she'd done."
"What changed your mind?"
"After the Battle of Endor, I thought with the Emperor defeated and the Empire crumbling, she might finally agree to see me, so I sent one more message. I was surprised when she sent word back that she would meet me on Croyus Four if I could find transport there. By her suggestion, I was to disguise myself as her so that I could move about freely."
"A trap," Luke said, comprehending.
"My father suspected as much. He warned me not to go, but I was determined to try one last time. As I told you, I was sure I could turn her back."
"Why? Why were you sure?"
"Because of what we were to each other. I can't put into words how close we were. Until the events that turned her, we could hear each other's thoughts without even trying much. And then...I don't know. She just closed herself off from me, somehow. But even after she turned, for a while, I could hear a single word, and I thought it must be coming from her, because I didn't know where else it could have come from."
"What was the word?"
"'Forgive.' That's it. Just 'forgive.' I sent message after message, telling her that I forgave her, and begging her for a face-to-face meeting. She ignored all of them, except for the last."
"When she told you to go to Croyus Four."
"Right. I left before my father could stop me, just as Brenna knew I would. She also knew about the Allied raid, of course. I daresay she managed to arrange it. When I arrived at Croyus Four, there was no one but myself and a few non-essential personnel. Before I knew what was happening, I'd been captured. Brenna must have loved the irony of it, my being executed by my own people in her place."
"And your father?"
"I'd...left him on Kalmyr, alone and unprotected. I never, until the moment I was captured by the Alliance, was able to read him. His dying thoughts reached me just as I was taken prisoner. His image of Brenna from that sending will burn in my memory forever." She stopped, hesitated, then added, "His last message was to find you. To teach me how to stop Brenna. I...didn't think there was any hope, until I saw you on the balcony."
Luke gazed into the distance, too, almost seeing the images through Briande's eyes. "There was...something else in your father's sending, too, wasn't there."
Briande hesitated. "Yes... There was...pain. Physical pain, too, but mostly the mental anguish of knowing that one of the daughters he loved would die by the other's hand." Briande's eyes widened as she realized what she was saying. "One of the—" She turned to Luke with a mixture of excitement and wonder. "He loved us, Luke! Even Brenna, who killed him. All those years he never told us, and I was never sure. But now I know. He loved us. Both of us."
"Yes, I believe he did," Luke said quietly.
"By the other's hand..." she repeated quietly. Her eyes clouded over with doubt as she saw something else, too. Vague shapes moving in the Force around her, hiding their true images in swirling mists as currents carried them away again, always in motion.
"Brie? What's wrong?"
"Luke...it is over, isn't it?"
"What's over?"
"The dream—the vision from before. The prophecy about your death...by my hand."
"It hasn't come back, has it?" he asked, concerned.
"I'm not...sure. I see...the same images, but...they're different, somehow. Not as cold, maybe—I don't know. You can see it, too. Can't you?"
Skywalker hesitated, sensing her growing panic, unsure of how much Briande was ready for, or of how much he really understood himself. "I can't see...anything for certain, Brie. Maybe...it's just your subconscious worrying about something that's past."
"I don't want to kill you, Luke. Force help me, I don't want to kill you..."
"It's okay, Brie. You've beaten Brenna. You know how, now. She can't control you any more."
"But the visions—"
"The future is always in motion. We can't be sure that what you've seen is not just a remnant of something past. I trust you. If you want to go on with the training, you'll have to trust yourself, too. For the time being, I suggest we forget about the visions and concentrate on your exercises. There's still a long way to go before you're ready to face Brenna in combat."
"Forget about the visions?" Briande asked wryly.
"As much as possible, in any case. It could be nothing. It could simply be Brenna trying to frighten you out of the training. Just remember she can't force you to do anything. Not anymore."
Briande stood up and turned away. "I know that. But still..."
Luke rose to his feet and embraced her from behind. "Briande, I can't explain the apprehension you're feeling. The truth is, I've felt something, too. But I've also never been happier in my life than when I'm with you. And there's something...even stronger than that shadow telling me it's imperative for you to finish the training. Not just because of Brenna, but because of something else, too, though I'm not sure what."
"I know," Briande sighed. She turned to face him. "I just...don't want to lose you."
"You have to trust yourself, Brie, just as I do. I don't know how to prove that to you, except—Here."
Briande looked down in surprise as she felt the smooth pommel of Luke's lightsaber in her palm. "What's this?"
"I want you to take this and hide it. Better yet, dismantle it and put the parts where I can't get them."
Briande's eyes turned wide with horror. She tried to give it back, but Luke would not accept it. "Luke, no!"
"That's an order, Brie."
Briande let the lightsaber fall to the ground. "No."
"You would prefer to abandon the training?"
She closed her eyes, but she remained firm. "If that's what it takes."
"You know the stakes?"
"I love you, Luke. I won't leave you unprotected. Please don't ask me again."
Luke smiled. "You've just proven my point." He picked up his lightsaber and reattached it to his belt. "I don't need this anymore, but somehow I had to convince you. Don't you see, Brie? I can't explain about the visions; I wish I could. But you just proved I have nothing to fear from you."
Briande looked at him incredulously. "You knew I wouldn't take it?"
"I...knew you wouldn't use it against me."
Briande was uncertain. "I want to believe you."
Skywalker looked into her eyes and saw a need he knew was mirrored in his own soul. "Believe. The feeling you described could be nothing. A fluke."
"You are always," Briande said wryly, "telling me to listen to my feelings..."
"All right," Briande said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "If this doesn't work, we're both in a lot of trouble. Come on, you little field-rat. Eat!"
Luke smiled from the window as he watched Briande dip the corner of the cloth she was holding into a bowl of rehydrated milk, and offer it to the infant kinoll in her lap. The tiny creature sniffed at the soaked rag-end, but stubbornly did not accept it.
"Come on," she said with a hint of exasperation.
"Patience." Luke advised. "Give her time."
Briande glanced up at him through the window, then turned her attention back to the obstinate animal. Luke moved to the doorway and deposited his armload of firewood inside before squatting on the floor across from her.
"How do you know it's a 'her'?" Briande asked.
"Easy," Luke joked, winking. "She's got a female temperament."
Briande didn't return the smile. Luke knew she still felt awkward whenever he teased her.
"Hello," Luke said to the kinoll. He picked it up and rubbed its head lightly with his finger. "Aren't you going to eat for Briande today?" He made a few high-pitched nonsense noises with his mouth which made the kinoll prick its ears up with interest and caused the corners of Briande's mouth to turn up despite herself. Luke gave a little laugh and handed the kinoll back to Briande. She stroked it absently.
Luke stood up, retrieved the firewood, and began adding it to the pile next to the fireplace. He wasn't particularly worried about the kinoll. Despite periods of stubbornness, it was healthy enough; and despite Briande's apparent exasperation, Luke knew she was genuinely attached to it.
"I heard you singing today," Luke remarked, trying to make his voice sound casual.
"Oh." Briande said, embarrassed.
"You have a beautiful voice. I was sorry when you stopped."
Briande shrugged. "I didn't know if you'd approve."
Luke finished with the firewood and sat down beside her. "Actually, I was hoping you'd do it more often. Why wouldn't I approve?"
Briande looked down. Her fingers stroked the kinoll's soft fur a few more times, then returned the small animal to its box. "My...father considered it a frivolous waste of time. Until now, Brenna was the only other person who knew that I liked to sing."
Luke started, shocked that she had felt a need to keep such a talent hidden even from her father. "I'm sorry," Luke said, realizing the enormous amount of trust Briande must have placed in her sister, and the pain she must have felt when that trust was betrayed. He reached for her hand in sympathy. Briande gave him a brief smile before looking down at their intertwined fingers.
Suddenly she stopped smiling and looked at their joined hands with a frown of puzzlement. After a moment, she unlaced her fingers, but continued to hold onto Luke's hand with both of her own. She carefully examined the back, then turned it over to examine the palm. Luke held his breath, waiting.
Finally she looked up at him. "Your hand—it's artificial, isn't it?"
"Yes," Luke said, watching her reaction.
Briande nodded and looked back down. She found the all but invisible seam at the wrist where flesh joined with bionics, and traced it with her finger. "How did you lose it?"
Luke let his breath out slowly, relieved. She was curious, nothing more. "Vader. He cut it off with a lightsaber."
Briande looked at him in surprise. "And you forgave him?"
"Not at first. But then I realized he was being 'gentle' with me. He could have killed me, but he didn't."
"So you won that battle?"
Luke shook his head, remembering. "No, I lost. More than just my hand. But I did learn something from it, about myself...and my father."
"What?"
"That we weren't so different. As much as I was like him, he was also like me. I never actually really won against Darth Vader. I merely... showed him how to win against himself. All I did was show him that the Dark Side was a choice, and he didn't have to choose it."
"I think...I understand. But why didn't you tell me before about your hand—no, wait. You were afraid of my reaction, weren't you. Because of my father. You were afraid that...I would resent it because of what happened to him."
Luke smiled. "Yes. Do you?"
For an answer, Briande pressed his hand to her lips, and her eyes showed an emotion she reserved only for him.
Luke decided suddenly that if Briande was ready to handle the knowledge of his hand, she was ready to handle another kind of knowledge, too. He risked asking a question he had held back until now. "Brie...you said once that the last time you encountered your sister, she tricked you. What did you mean by that?"
Briande looked at him sharply for a moment, then looked away and gazed at some distant memory. "The last time we encountered... The truth is, Luke, I haven't seen Brenna since the day she turned to the Dark Side. The last time we saw each other face to face, she dedicated herself to fight against everything I believed in."
"You haven't seen her since that day?"
"No."
"Did you try to talk to her?"
Briande nodded. "She refused to see me. I sent messages, but she never answered them. I doubt if she even listened to them. I used to think that if I could meet with her in person, I could convince her to turn back. I was sure of it. She probably could have killed me back on Kalmyr, but she didn't. For a long time I thought she had left me alive because she couldn't bring herself to destroy me. Then I learned it was only to torture me with the knowledge of the things she'd done."
"What changed your mind?"
"After the Battle of Endor, I thought with the Emperor defeated and the Empire crumbling, she might finally agree to see me, so I sent one more message. I was surprised when she sent word back that she would meet me on Croyus Four if I could find transport there. By her suggestion, I was to disguise myself as her so that I could move about freely."
"A trap," Luke said, comprehending.
"My father suspected as much. He warned me not to go, but I was determined to try one last time. As I told you, I was sure I could turn her back."
"Why? Why were you sure?"
"Because of what we were to each other. I can't put into words how close we were. Until the events that turned her, we could hear each other's thoughts without even trying much. And then...I don't know. She just closed herself off from me, somehow. But even after she turned, for a while, I could hear a single word, and I thought it must be coming from her, because I didn't know where else it could have come from."
"What was the word?"
"'Forgive.' That's it. Just 'forgive.' I sent message after message, telling her that I forgave her, and begging her for a face-to-face meeting. She ignored all of them, except for the last."
"When she told you to go to Croyus Four."
"Right. I left before my father could stop me, just as Brenna knew I would. She also knew about the Allied raid, of course. I daresay she managed to arrange it. When I arrived at Croyus Four, there was no one but myself and a few non-essential personnel. Before I knew what was happening, I'd been captured. Brenna must have loved the irony of it, my being executed by my own people in her place."
"And your father?"
"I'd...left him on Kalmyr, alone and unprotected. I never, until the moment I was captured by the Alliance, was able to read him. His dying thoughts reached me just as I was taken prisoner. His image of Brenna from that sending will burn in my memory forever." She stopped, hesitated, then added, "His last message was to find you. To teach me how to stop Brenna. I...didn't think there was any hope, until I saw you on the balcony."
Luke gazed into the distance, too, almost seeing the images through Briande's eyes. "There was...something else in your father's sending, too, wasn't there."
Briande hesitated. "Yes... There was...pain. Physical pain, too, but mostly the mental anguish of knowing that one of the daughters he loved would die by the other's hand." Briande's eyes widened as she realized what she was saying. "One of the—" She turned to Luke with a mixture of excitement and wonder. "He loved us, Luke! Even Brenna, who killed him. All those years he never told us, and I was never sure. But now I know. He loved us. Both of us."
"Yes, I believe he did," Luke said quietly.
"By the other's hand..." she repeated quietly. Her eyes clouded over with doubt as she saw something else, too. Vague shapes moving in the Force around her, hiding their true images in swirling mists as currents carried them away again, always in motion.
"Brie? What's wrong?"
"Luke...it is over, isn't it?"
"What's over?"
"The dream—the vision from before. The prophecy about your death...by my hand."
"It hasn't come back, has it?" he asked, concerned.
"I'm not...sure. I see...the same images, but...they're different, somehow. Not as cold, maybe—I don't know. You can see it, too. Can't you?"
Skywalker hesitated, sensing her growing panic, unsure of how much Briande was ready for, or of how much he really understood himself. "I can't see...anything for certain, Brie. Maybe...it's just your subconscious worrying about something that's past."
"I don't want to kill you, Luke. Force help me, I don't want to kill you..."
"It's okay, Brie. You've beaten Brenna. You know how, now. She can't control you any more."
"But the visions—"
"The future is always in motion. We can't be sure that what you've seen is not just a remnant of something past. I trust you. If you want to go on with the training, you'll have to trust yourself, too. For the time being, I suggest we forget about the visions and concentrate on your exercises. There's still a long way to go before you're ready to face Brenna in combat."
"Forget about the visions?" Briande asked wryly.
"As much as possible, in any case. It could be nothing. It could simply be Brenna trying to frighten you out of the training. Just remember she can't force you to do anything. Not anymore."
Briande stood up and turned away. "I know that. But still..."
Luke rose to his feet and embraced her from behind. "Briande, I can't explain the apprehension you're feeling. The truth is, I've felt something, too. But I've also never been happier in my life than when I'm with you. And there's something...even stronger than that shadow telling me it's imperative for you to finish the training. Not just because of Brenna, but because of something else, too, though I'm not sure what."
"I know," Briande sighed. She turned to face him. "I just...don't want to lose you."
"You have to trust yourself, Brie, just as I do. I don't know how to prove that to you, except—Here."
Briande looked down in surprise as she felt the smooth pommel of Luke's lightsaber in her palm. "What's this?"
"I want you to take this and hide it. Better yet, dismantle it and put the parts where I can't get them."
Briande's eyes turned wide with horror. She tried to give it back, but Luke would not accept it. "Luke, no!"
"That's an order, Brie."
Briande let the lightsaber fall to the ground. "No."
"You would prefer to abandon the training?"
She closed her eyes, but she remained firm. "If that's what it takes."
"You know the stakes?"
"I love you, Luke. I won't leave you unprotected. Please don't ask me again."
Luke smiled. "You've just proven my point." He picked up his lightsaber and reattached it to his belt. "I don't need this anymore, but somehow I had to convince you. Don't you see, Brie? I can't explain about the visions; I wish I could. But you just proved I have nothing to fear from you."
Briande looked at him incredulously. "You knew I wouldn't take it?"
"I...knew you wouldn't use it against me."
Briande was uncertain. "I want to believe you."
Skywalker looked into her eyes and saw a need he knew was mirrored in his own soul. "Believe. The feeling you described could be nothing. A fluke."
"You are always," Briande said wryly, "telling me to listen to my feelings..."
-----
Chapter Nineteen
Leia insisted that she and Han stay in one of the underground hotels, so that she could be close to the campaign events.
Han would have preferred to stay on the Falcon, which wasn't as luxurious, but was eminently more comfortable.
There was some sort of dinner affair they had to go to. Leia looked lovely in a custom-designed strapless white gown with sparkly-shimmery threads woven into the fabric. She had offered to have Han fitted with a formal suit, but he had declined, preferring instead just to have his flight suit cleaned and throw on a clean shirt. Leia had tried to get him to eat something before going, but Han figured they were going to a dinner for crying out loud, and the purpose of a dinner was to eat. Han was looking forward to a nice, hot meal of something other than space-rations.
And then the speeches began.
Han listened to the first three or four and clapped politely at the end of each one. Leia had said—and the moderator had reiterated—that the were to be short speeches, but apparently in diplomatic lingo, that meant about 15-20 minutes each, plus the five minutes or so for the introduction that each speaker had.
Han was getting hungry.
And bored.
He leaned back and tapped his foot under the table, wishing it would end. Finally, it was Leia's turn. She gave an impassioned speech about the New Republic, how it was trying to establish order out of the chaos left in Palpatine's wake, and how every member system needed to do its part to help the systems that had suffered the worst.
Han checked his watch. Leia went on for a good eight or nine minutes, which was pretty short compared to the other speakers, but still too long by Han's standards.
When she was done, as she returned to her seat, Han clapped madly and rose to his feet.
He was the only one to give a standing ovation for any of the speeches.
When she got to her place, the Princess chuckled quietly. "You can sit down now," she said under her breath. But he pulled his chair out for her, and she sat with eyebrows raised at this unaccustomed courtesy.
"Can we eat yet?" he asked her quietly.
"Soon. Only about three more to go."
Three more? That would be like another hour, at least. Han groaned inwardly, and as he sat down, he managed to spill his water goblet—all over the Princess's gown.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he apologized to Leia. He picked up a napkin and started dabbing at her gown, particularly around the breast areas.
Leia missed the mischievous glint in his eyes and snatched the napkin away, annoyed that he was trying to grope her in public. "It's fine," she said. "I'll be back in a minute."
"Want me to take you back to the room?" Han asked.
"No. Stay here. I'll take care of it."
Han rolled his eyes inwardly as she left for the women's room, annoyed that she hadn't seized on this excuse he'd given her to ditch this boring non-dinner. He blew out a sigh and went back to tapping his foot under the table, praying that the torturous speeches would soon be over and the food would be served soon.
Leia insisted that she and Han stay in one of the underground hotels, so that she could be close to the campaign events.
Han would have preferred to stay on the Falcon, which wasn't as luxurious, but was eminently more comfortable.
There was some sort of dinner affair they had to go to. Leia looked lovely in a custom-designed strapless white gown with sparkly-shimmery threads woven into the fabric. She had offered to have Han fitted with a formal suit, but he had declined, preferring instead just to have his flight suit cleaned and throw on a clean shirt. Leia had tried to get him to eat something before going, but Han figured they were going to a dinner for crying out loud, and the purpose of a dinner was to eat. Han was looking forward to a nice, hot meal of something other than space-rations.
And then the speeches began.
Han listened to the first three or four and clapped politely at the end of each one. Leia had said—and the moderator had reiterated—that the were to be short speeches, but apparently in diplomatic lingo, that meant about 15-20 minutes each, plus the five minutes or so for the introduction that each speaker had.
Han was getting hungry.
And bored.
He leaned back and tapped his foot under the table, wishing it would end. Finally, it was Leia's turn. She gave an impassioned speech about the New Republic, how it was trying to establish order out of the chaos left in Palpatine's wake, and how every member system needed to do its part to help the systems that had suffered the worst.
Han checked his watch. Leia went on for a good eight or nine minutes, which was pretty short compared to the other speakers, but still too long by Han's standards.
When she was done, as she returned to her seat, Han clapped madly and rose to his feet.
He was the only one to give a standing ovation for any of the speeches.
When she got to her place, the Princess chuckled quietly. "You can sit down now," she said under her breath. But he pulled his chair out for her, and she sat with eyebrows raised at this unaccustomed courtesy.
"Can we eat yet?" he asked her quietly.
"Soon. Only about three more to go."
Three more? That would be like another hour, at least. Han groaned inwardly, and as he sat down, he managed to spill his water goblet—all over the Princess's gown.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he apologized to Leia. He picked up a napkin and started dabbing at her gown, particularly around the breast areas.
Leia missed the mischievous glint in his eyes and snatched the napkin away, annoyed that he was trying to grope her in public. "It's fine," she said. "I'll be back in a minute."
"Want me to take you back to the room?" Han asked.
"No. Stay here. I'll take care of it."
Han rolled his eyes inwardly as she left for the women's room, annoyed that she hadn't seized on this excuse he'd given her to ditch this boring non-dinner. He blew out a sigh and went back to tapping his foot under the table, praying that the torturous speeches would soon be over and the food would be served soon.
-----
Chapter Twenty
They sat in Yoda's hut in front of the fireplace. Briande absently poked a stick into the flames as Luke talked.
"We're going to play a game," he said. "Yoda had me do it once or twice, although I'm not really sure why. I figure there's got to be a point to it, or he wouldn't have done it."
"What sort of game?" Briande wanted to know.
Luke grinned. "Hide and seek. Basically the same rules that everyone knows. You hide, and I'll seek. I'll give you a three minute head-start before I come looking for you. When I find you, you're 'it.'"
Briande looked at him for a second, then tossed her stick into the fire. "What happens if you don't find me?"
"I don't know. Yoda always found me. I'll yell 'Olly olly oxen free,' or something."
Briande brushed the dirt from the stick off her hands. "How would you like to make it a little more interesting?"
"Interesting, how?"
"Oh, just a little side-wager. If you find me, I'll cook dinner tonight. If you don't find me, you cook."
"Sure," Luke replied. "I'll have norlin roots and sallop greens."
"You're awfully cocky."
"And you're wasting time. Your three minutes starts now."
Briande smiled at him. "I'll only need one. But just so we have the rules straight, 'Olly olly oxen free' means you give up, and I win, and you cook dinner."
"Right," Luke agreed. "Two minutes and forty-five seconds."
Briande stood up and gave him a cheery wave. "Ta." She left through the front door and went around to the side of the house where there were no windows. There she paused for a moment to consider the terrain, and walked towards the marsh where the ground was softer. She crossed it, then retraced her footsteps, and returned to the hut. It was an old trick, childish, really, but this was a child's game, after all. After doing all that, she climbed the old gnarled tree next to the hut and settled herself into its comfortable leafy branches. She still had more than a minute and a left before Luke followed her out the front door.
A slight smile crossed her features as she saw his puzzled expression. She knew he would never find her through the Force. And that, she figured, was the purpose of this exercise. It was one thing she could do well. She couldn't move stones around the way Luke could, but this was something her father had taught her to do even as a little girl.
Luke stood in one place for a moment, then made a circle around the hut, looking in all directions. Then he made a second circle, slower this time. The crease above his brows deepened, but since he had seen her turn to the left as she went out the door, that was the direction he finally chose. For a moment, he stood right under her tree, but he never looked up. He saw the footprints in the marsh and went over for a closer look. He gave his head a slight shake as if unable to believe that he was relying on physical evidence, and crossed the bog where the footprints were leading, to go into the woods. Briande waited until he disappeared before allowing herself a slight chuckle. He'd never find her.
Not unless she helped him. If she helped him.
She jumped down from the tree and ran across the marsh, obliterating her previous footprints and some of Luke's as she followed him into the woods.
This was going to be fun!
.
.
.
Luke knew Briande was somewhere nearby, but that was only because he kept finding footprints. Sometimes he'd find footprints going in opposite directions from the same point, or up to a tree and then one foot each around it on either side, as if the one who had left the footprints had split into two parts and rejoined on the other side of the tree. Once they went straight up a rock face as if the owner had simply walked up it like it was horizontal ground instead of a vertical rock face. It took him a few minutes to figure out how she had done that one. She had tied her shoes to sticks to make the prints when she couldn't reach with her hands any higher, and then had simply climbed to the top where the slope was less steep and reached over the edge to make the prints at the top. Another time he found footprints made by a left shoe only, but in pairs, as if the owner had two left feet. He kept hearing the cry of a strange animal, too, and he thought he knew all the animal sounds on Dagobah.
He suspected, but he wasn't completely sure, that Briande was making the strange animal noises. Whenever he investigated, however, he found nothing.
He'd also been hit a few times with acorns, but whenever he looked up, towards the source of the falling acorns, he couldn't see a thing.
The whole thing was funny, actually, but frustrating, too. Finally, he found Briande's shoes sitting on a rock. In front of the rock, in the dirt, the words "Give up yet?" had been scribbled with a stick.
Luke laughed, then agreed in a loud voice, "Olly olly oxen free!"
Immediately he heard the animal cry again from overhead, and when he looked up, he was rewarded by a shower of green tree nuts. This time, though, Briande smiled at him from one of the higher branches of the tree and curled her fingers in a small wave.
"How did you do that?" Luke wanted to know.
"The footprints?" she asked, moving to a lower branch.
"The Force. I couldn't feel you at all." He felt her presence now, though. As soon as he had called out the magic game-ending words, he'd felt it again.
"I don't know, really." She swung to a lower branch like a gymnast and asked, "How do you lift those heavy rocks?"
"Touché," Luke replied. He couldn't explain in spoken words how he did it.
"Help me down?" Briande asked when she was sitting on the bottom-most branch, still a good eight feet above the ground.
"Why?" he asked. "You seem to be doing all right on your own."
"Because you're a gentleman," she reminded him. “And because I’m barefoot and don’t want to land on a rock.”
"Who said I was a gentleman?" Luke wanted to know.
"And because I might take it easy on you with the dinner menu if you help me down."
"Ah. Well, in that case..." Luke stretched out both his hands and his senses, and levitated her up from the branch. Living things were difficult for him to move, since they generated their own Force-currents, but Briande was different. He had already found that he could pick her up for brief periods, if she let him. He didn't know what it was, but she had the ability to still the currents around herself so that they didn't interfere. If she wasn't ready, however, or if she willed him not to be able to do it, he couldn't. When he was able to lift her through the Force, Briande had described herself as "being still."
He released his Force-hold on her when she was in his arms and let himself enjoy the comfortable weight of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against his shoulder for a second before pulling away. "Well, that was fun. Haven't done it in a while."
"Something you did regularly?" Luke wanted to know.
"Oh, yeah. When we were kids, Brenna and I used to play it all the time. Then, after she crossed to the Dark Side, my father turned it from a game into an exercise."
"An 'exercise'? Did your father ever give a name to this ability?"
Briande shrugged. "He called it 'shielding.' Said it was what saved Brenna and me from Vader." Then she gave Luke an apologetic shrug. "Sorry."
Luke shook his head. "No, don't be sorry. But…shielding…Shield…" He thought back to the couple of times when Yoda had had him play the game, and he had failed miserably. There hadn't been any rebuke, any admonishment for his failure. Yoda had simply Hrrmmppphed and moved on to other things.
Suddenly Luke realized something. "Yoda wasn't training me with that exercise—he was gauging me! Trying to find out where my abilities were. I was never much good at hide-and-seek, but you—" He smiled. "You are a master at it! Let's see what else you can do, shall we?"
"Sorry?" Briande asked.
"Sorry, nothing!" Luke told her, his smile stretching to a grin as she put her shoes back on. "Come on!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her back the way he had come originally.
"Where are we going?"
"Back to the hut, of course!" He half-pulled her back through the swamp, into the hut, and into Yoda's library before releasing her hand. He started searching through the collection of books. "I can't believe I was such an idiot! The first time I saw it, I thought it was, like, a receipt log, or something. An acknowledgement of gift tokens or somesuch—a notion that was not helped by Yoda when I started looking through it. Ah! There it is! He told me that reading this would just be a waste of time. At the time, it was. Everything was so rushed, everything so dependent on my being trained as quickly as possible! But I remember seeing the word 'Shield' before Yoda took the book away from me and told me 'Later.' Deities! I should have known!" He opened the book and started leafing through it, his grin growing wider with each turn of the page. "This 'Book of Gifts' isn't a receipt book! This is a book about different Force-Talents!"
From Yoda's handwritten book, which Luke skimmed through to get the gist, leaving the details for later, he learned that there were about a dozen or so different Force gifts that a sensitive might possess, in varying combinations and degrees. Those combinations were what made each Jedi unique, and training was a matter of developing each talent to its fullest extent.
Many Force-sensitives were "Intuits"—individuals who often had a vague sense of when to do one thing or another—when to fire a weapon, for example. An Intuit could also evaluate the truth behind a statement or claim. and would often just know if something was true or not. There might be some level of precognition involved, but it usually came as flashes of insight rather than more highly developed Sight into the future. Luke and Briande both possessed some degree of Intuition. Luke's had manifested itself in numerous ways, the most important of which was when he had destroyed the first Death Star. He also knew, when Darth Vader had told him he was Luke's father, that the statement was true. The brief flashes of precognition he'd been experiencing lately were another manifestation. Briande—he could tell by the way she had been defeating the seekers lately, that she also was an Intuit. But Intuition was not an ability one could easily learn to control. One might learn to heighten one's intuitive sense, but one couldn't rely on its presence all the time, because it was easy to confuse genuine intuition with desire or fear or some other emotion. Training usually involved blocking one or more physical sense, especially vision, to increase a reliance on feelings and intuition (blindfolded seeker practice, for example, was an intuition exercise), evaluating claims (Luke now realized that some of the “Truth” games he had played with Yoda were for more than just passing the time), and learning to disassociate emotions from the actual intuition.
Luke gave the introduction a second read, and realized that disassociating emotion from intuition wasn't the same as suppressing emotion. He thought on Briande's entire experience on Dagobah, and realized that when she had tried to suppress her emotions, she'd been weaker. Her strength came from when she acknowledged her emotions. The implications for training were to separate emotions from intuition, not to eliminate the emotions altogether and become a machine. That had been the mistake Briande's father had made. Luke had hit the mark by trial and error and pure, dumb luck, seasoned with a dash of...intuition.
He made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh, and decided that he would add some marginalia to Yoda's book, in case it was ever used in the future by someone else.
He flipped to the next section.
"Savants" were a unique group, individuals who were geniuses in specific areas—music, art, or mathematics, for example—and perfectly normal, or even deficient, in other areas. Neither Luke nor Briande were Savants, and once Luke figured that out, he skipped the rest of the information on that gift and went on to read the next section. He'd come back to it later, when there was more time.
"Channels" were those sensitives who could communicate with the energies of certain spirits of once-living beings. Although Luke had been able to do that briefly with the spirits of Ben Kenobi, Yoda, and even his father, Luke was certain that it had had more to do with their abilities rather than his, and Briande hadn't ever been able to communicate with her dead father at all. There were a lot of charlatans who pretended to be Channels, taking advantage of the natural grief of those left behind by loved ones who had passed, but a number of actual Talents had been found among the charlatans.
Luke read on.
"Creature Empaths" could communicate with lower life forms, not by talking with them, exactly, but by receiving and projecting feelings. They were an unusual group of Force-sensitives in that untrained Creature Empaths usually didn't blend well with the general populace, as other Force-sensitives might. If someone was found to be a Creature Empath, training became a priority, because the majority of untrained Creature Empaths apparently went insane. Those few untrained souls who retained their sanity apparently spent nearly their entire lives on space stations or on ships where they were unlikely to encounter the lower life forms. And those who were trained usually didn't go past a basic level, but only to where the Empath could learn to separate impressions and hold them at bay. A fully-trained Creature Empath could control animals as well as read them, but the risk of failure was high, and failure meant that the Creature Empath would most likely live out the rest of his or her life as an animal, or in a constantly drugged state in a hospital institution. As a result, most of the Creature Empaths Yoda had trained had been only partly trained, just enough to hold the empathic impressions at bay and stave off insanity. In the history of the Jedi, there had apparently been one fully trained Creature Empath who had been able to control whole herds of animals at a time, and he had taken on the training of other Creature Empaths. Before him, the likelihood of success in training a Creature Empath beyond the very basic level needed to stave off insanity was somewhere between slim and none. Well, thankfully, Creature Empathy didn't apply to Briande or himself. Luke himself had succeeded in communicating with the lake creature only at a very rudimentary telepathic level. And he had the feeling that the little he had been able to do with the lake creature probably had had a lot to do with its previous contacts with Yoda and other Jedi rather than Luke’s telepathic attempts. If Luke had been its first contact, he doubt he would have gotten through. No, neither Luke nor Briande was a Creature Empath. Fortunately. Luke wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with the implications of a training failure for a Creature Empath who “fell into the Chasm” of feral insanity.
The next group was "Viewers," who could see things out of their physical sight. Luke wasn't a Viewer. Neither was Briande. But Luke was certain that Ben had had remote viewing capabilities. Ben had seen the destruction of Alderaan, probably as it had occurred. Viewers usually saw the past or the present rather than future. Those who saw into the future were a category unto themselves, because the future was always in motion.
"Seers" were the subset of Viewers who could glimpse the future, which was not always immutable, as the Emperor had learned at the end. Yoda had been something of a Seer. That's why he had been able to see Leia and Han on Bespin, before they had been captured and tortured. That was something Luke had gotten telepathically from Yoda, rather than through his own remote viewing or foresight. Luke's only brief glimpses into the future came in dreams, as Briande's did, and were likely more Intuitive than Insightful. Dominant Seers were a pretty rare group. Or maybe not so rare, but because the future was constantly moving, it made things that much harder to pin down. The Sight could be a gift, or a curse, depending on the nature of a vision, and it was usually only the most well-trained Seers who could handle it—especially given how fluid the future was. Well, Yoda had had something like 800 years to perfect his gift. Luke doubted he'd have that long, even if he did possess some level of Sight beyond an unreliable latent ability that was probably just a manifestation of his Intuition.
"Travelers" were similar to "Viewers," but rather than just seeing something occurring elsewhere, Travelers could leave their physical bodies and actually go there. Instead of just glimpsing what was going on elsewhere, a Traveler would simply leave his or her body and go there in spirit. That was very interesting, at least in terms of past events in Luke's life. Ben's ability to just disappear at the moment when Vader would have killed him, and Yoda's ability to do the same at the moment when he would have died was probably related to their ability to Travel. But pulling every drop of energy from one's own body for a last voyage was something a traveler would only be able to do once, at least, in theory, and it was entirely unknown what exactly happened to the Traveler if or when that occurred. But there were some known cases of Force-possession that were thought to have had something to do with Travelers. Apparently, Travelers were largely limited to the Present. Theoretically, it might be possible to travel into the past or future, but there were no documented accounts of that occurring in the histories of the Jedi.
Luke took a long moment to reflect on what he had just read. Palpatine had to have been a Traveler! That's why Luke had been able to sense him after second Death Star! That's why his spirit was still alive, out there, somewhere! And based on what had happened with Briande, her sister Brenna had to be a Traveler, as well! It wasn't yet clear whether Briande herself possessed any abilities to Travel outside of her own body, but this was definitely a section Luke would have to return to, with a more careful study of the details.
"Readers" could touch an object imbued with the energies of its owner and divine information about that owner. Luke remembered Yoda giving him a few various things and asking him to tell everything he could about them, which was nothing. Luke had simply described their physical characteristics, which had earned him more Hrrrmmpph comments from Yoda. Luke would have to search for those objects and see if Briande could pick up anything from them.
"Memorists" were those with an eidetic memory, who once experiencing an event through sight or sound or touch or taste or smell, could recall it perfectly a lifetime later. A memorist musician, for example, could glance at a sheet of music, and then play it perfectly, note for note, even years later, limited only by the musician's dexterity or other non-memory related skills. But there was a huge downside. As nice as it might be to remember notes on a page, any trauma experienced by a Memorist would always be as fresh as the moment it happened. Luke could remember some things in detail—but only after intense, purposeful study, and only for limited periods of time. Then the minute details would fade, as was normal. He was not a Memorist, and doubted whether Briande was, either—and he was extremely glad for that. There were a few things in his life that he would not care to constantly re-live.
"Telepaths" could communicate without spoken words. Luke himself had some telepathic ability, but he wasn't a dominant Telepath. He could communicate with those he was close to, with great effort, and even use the Force to plant a suggestion in some individuals who were physically near. Vader had been something of a Telepath, but like Luke, had probably not been a dominant Telepath. Then there was Palpatine, who had been able to sense Luke’s thoughts and emotions. Palpatine had to have had some telepathic abilities. A strong dominant Telepath didn't need as much physical or emotional closeness as a non-dominant telepath. Briande's stories about communicating with her sister telepathically showed that she also had some ability in that regard. Luke would have to explore that further with her, see how far it went.
"Healers" were a rare group. They used the Force to mend wounds and physically repair damage to the body. This was a skill Luke would dearly love to possess himself. He might in fact have some small ability in that regard, but it was still latent, not fully developed. He could heal himself a little, sometimes, which he knew from an exercise Yoda had once had him try, but not completely, and he hadn't yet tried on others. It was something worth exploring, but it wasn't a dominant trait for himself, and doubted it was for Briande, either. The ability to heal often went hand-in-hand with the ability to see auras, but it was not a perfect correlation. Neither he nor Brenna seemed particularly skilled with auras—Luke couldn’t see them at all, and he wasn’t sure whether or not Briande could. He’d find out, though. And more than any other gift, healing took a toll on the practitioner. A truly gifted dominant Healer might be able to use the Force-energies of other cooperating Force-Talents to aid in the process. Training a healer involved a lot of hard work, and intense practice, and many well-intentioned Talents possessing some measure of the gift simply gave up before they developed the gift beyond more than a very rudimentary level. Still, it was a skill that intrigued Luke, and something he might like to work on for himself later. And if Briande had any latent abilitities in that regard, maybe it was something they could work on together.
"Telekins" or "Movers" were a class that Luke counted himself a member of. That was his dominant gift. A Telekin could use the Force to move or manipulate non-living objects. Dominant Telekins were extremely rare, and the fact that Yoda had also been one had been an extremely fortunate piece of luck. The fact that Anakin/Vader had been a Telekin explained where Luke had gotten his powers from. On the other hand, Leia had never shown any signs of being a Mover, so the gift wasn't necessarily always passed on from parent to child. It was possible that Leia had some latent ability, of course, but at the moment, any such ability that Leia might have possessed was moot. And since Briande did not seem to possess any abilities in this area, Luke moved onto the next group.
"Pyrokinetics" or “Firestarters” were among the most rare of Force-talented individuals, those who could start fires by exciting Force-energy until their object of focus ignited. And they could not only excite Force-energy, they could also slow the energy to cool a thing. Luke remembered one of the few pieces of technology Yoda had used in his own training was a temperature reader, which Yoda had applied to a stone he had heated in the fireplace, and then asked Luke to try to see if he could will the stone to cool. Luke’s apparent ability to cool it by only a few degrees had either been something related to his telekinesis, or just the stone’s natural air-cooling, rather than any gift of pyrokinesis. Luke didn’t think he had any true pyrokinetic abilities, although there was a possibility that the kinetic part of his own telekinetic abilities might transfer to some degree. Luke read with some amusement that Yoda had noted wryly that it was best to have extinguishers on hand when training Pyrokin, and to initiate the training with putting out fires before moving on to starting them, and Luke had to chuckle at that. Except that Yoda also noted that when incidents of "spontaneous combustion" occurred, it might be the conscious—or unconscious—manifestation of a Pyrokin, who could seriously injure others as well as themselves, even without meaning to. Seeking out a Pyrokin was relatively easy process—one had just to search the news feeds for any unexplained conflagrations.
"Conduits" or "Transformers" were the most rare of Force-sensitives. A Conduit could transform one form of Force-energy into another, and utilize that power at will. Palpatine had been a Conduit. That agonizing blue lightning Palpatine had used against Luke was a manifestation of that power.
Interesting. Luke would have to study section in greater detail. There might be something useful in the information.
At last he came to "Shields." Luke read that section carefully, several times, trying to learn everything he could about Briande and her gift.
Paradoxically, Shields were simultaneously the most enigmatic and the most transparent group of Force-sensitives. Also, paradoxically, training a Shield was as much about teaching him or her to lower the shield rather than teaching the sensitive to raise it. “Teach to Cancel as well as Conceal,” Yoda had written. Maintaining a shield was draining, just as levitating an object was, and the sensitive could only re-charge, so to speak, by lowering the shield and resting. Which meant that a Shield had to be generally "open" about him or herself otherwise, because that "openness" gave him or her the reserves of energy needed to sustain blocking a Force-generated attack when it counted. A Shield could block a telepathic attack. A Shield would have been able to withstand Palpatine's energy attack—at least until the Shield's reserves were depleted. Once those reserves were depleted, a Shield was as vulnerable as anyone else—perhaps even more so, because the Shield would be exhausted by that point. Shielding was also unique because it was primarily a defensive capability rather than an offensive one, and a Shield was still as susceptible as anyone else to conventional weapons, such as a lightsaber. So it was important to develop a Shield’s intuitive capabilities and other Force-talents to their fullest extent possible if a Shield was expected to participate in any combative action. Otherwise, a Shield’s best option was simply to...hide.
But if battle was the only option, the flip-side of shielding was that any Force-generated attack was also draining on the attacker. In a sustained battle pitting a direct Force-generated attack against a Shield, the outcome was often pre-determined by who was stronger in the Force, or who was better at wielding conventional weapons, or how other Force-talents compared.
Luke sat back, deep in thought. Things were making a lot more sense now. When he'd first met Briande, she'd already been blocking her sister. As time went on, she'd continued to block, thus draining her resources farther. That was why she hadn't progressed, and had even regressed. Again, it was trial and error, and no small amount of pure, dumb luck on Luke’s part, that had caused him inadvertently to hit on the secret. Briande had never given herself the chance to lower her Shield, and to just rest. And the more her reserves were depleted, the more vulnerable she was to attack. That first night with Luke when she finally had lowered her Shield wasn't enough of a rest to entirely re-build her reserves, but the small build-up might have been enough to alert her sister to the fact that she could replenish her reserves, and why the next morning's attack had been so powerful. It explained why Brenna had attacked again after Luke had goaded Briande into anger when Briande was exhausted. Brenna had been trying to hit Briande hard before Briande could regain her full strength.
Luke looked into the distance thoughtfully. Leia, untrained as she was, had managed to block a Force-attack from Vader, who had tried to telepathically glean the location of the Yavin base from her. Leia was one of the most open people Luke knew. It was easy to tell when she was annoyed, when she was happy, when she was—whatever she was at any given moment. And Leia, even untrained, was able to resist Vader's attacks. Leia had to possess some level of Shielding ability. Would Luke have been able to withstand Vader’s telepathic attack? Especially with the drugs Leia had described having been used on her? He doubted it. He'd only been to hide from Yoda for a few minutes at a time, and from Vader for only the same short period. But Leia had resisted Vader's prolonged probe successfully. Leia, Briande, her sister Brenna, and maybe even their father, who after all, hadn't been killed by Vader--all of them had been right under Vader's nose and had survived.
Interesting.
And maybe Vader himself, who had been openly angry, and, at the end, openly loving, had kept his intentions hidden from the Emperor until it was too late for the Emperor.
But Luke hadn't inherited the same ability to Shield that Leia had. He'd been able to physically hide from Vader for a few moments only, and it took all his concentration to do it. Nor had he been able to block Palatine's Force-energy attack. Then again, Leia had never shown any signs of being able to move stuff around with her mind like Luke could. They'd experimented to see if she could, but she hadn't been able to. So Force-talents weren't automatically passed from parent to child, although there did seem to be a genetic component in there somewhere.
Then another thought struck Luke. If Leia, Briande, Brenna, and maybe Briande's father had been able to hide from Vader and the Emperor, there was no telling how many other Force-sensitives there might still be out there, having shielded themselves from Vader's and Palpatine's searches.
There might be a whole cadre of potential Jedi Knights out there, just waiting for someone to train them. Someone like Luke, even.
Again, interesting.
Luke wondered whether he himself, and now Briande, too, might not be the last of that tradition, after all.
Very interesting.
Luke smiled. It was a pleasant daydream. And then he remembered words from so long-ago now, it seemed, talking about his tendency to daydream. All his life has he looked to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was, on what he was doing!
He returned his thoughts to the present. Well, what he was doing right now was training Briande. And thinking about how he had trained her so far, he realized he hadn't been doing so badly, after all. He'd been teaching her to be honest with herself, and with him—and it turned out that that was exactly what she needed to learn. It turned out that by getting Briande to acknowledge her own feelings, Luke was doing exactly what had been needed, albeit more out of luck than anything else.
There was one more section in Yoda's Book of Gifts, included not because it was a talent, but because it was a "gift" in the truest sense of the word. Unattainable by a single Jedi, yet attainable by every Jedi, and even by some who would be considered as non-Force-sensitives, though strengthened by Force sensitivity. Sought by many, achieved by only some. It was of no use in any practical sense, except when corrupted by the Dark Side in an attempt to seduce a Jedi. And as Luke read on, he realized it was what he himself had been craving all his life. And as he read on, he also realized that it was something Briande had already experienced, with her sister. She had told him as much, that night when it had rained, when he had first held her.
Yoda called it "sacred love."
Briande had called it "compassiatos."
It had nothing to do with physical intimacy, although that was one possible route to achieving it. It had more to do with intimacy of the soul, of finding one's soul-mate. It was a kind of love that could occur between friends, or lovers, or parent and child, or teacher and student, or any two je-he-di, really, whether sensitive to the Force or not. It was connectedness. It was perfect trust. It was openness. It was belonging. It was acceptance of one another's shortcomings. It was vulnerability. It was safety. It was mutual nurturing and caring on a level above what was ordinary. It was not something that could be described, exactly, but if you had it, you knew it.
That section in the book was short. There was no formula for achieving sacred love. The journey was the most important part, but there was no route map, no training guide. The two intimates had to find their way for themselves. And, in fact, it was the making of the path that brought the most joy. There was no destination beyond the here-and-now of the path. But if undertaken correctly, the journey created the destination, and they were one and the same.
Luke finally closed the book and sat back again. He'd study the fine-print details more carefully later. He thought wryly that this book describing Force-gifts was itself the greatest gift he could possibly hope for. It was a training manual of sorts, which was exactly what he needed.
Then he looked at Briande, noting again how beautiful she was, both physically and in what he felt through the Force. The section on "sacred love" came to mind. No training available or required for that, but it was nice just to be able to put a name to it.
Except, he had already had a name for it. Compassiatos. But "sacred love" was a good translation for Standard.
"What are you thinking about?" Briande asked him, noticing his look.
"I'm thinking…that I owe you a dinner," he said, and smiled.
They sat in Yoda's hut in front of the fireplace. Briande absently poked a stick into the flames as Luke talked.
"We're going to play a game," he said. "Yoda had me do it once or twice, although I'm not really sure why. I figure there's got to be a point to it, or he wouldn't have done it."
"What sort of game?" Briande wanted to know.
Luke grinned. "Hide and seek. Basically the same rules that everyone knows. You hide, and I'll seek. I'll give you a three minute head-start before I come looking for you. When I find you, you're 'it.'"
Briande looked at him for a second, then tossed her stick into the fire. "What happens if you don't find me?"
"I don't know. Yoda always found me. I'll yell 'Olly olly oxen free,' or something."
Briande brushed the dirt from the stick off her hands. "How would you like to make it a little more interesting?"
"Interesting, how?"
"Oh, just a little side-wager. If you find me, I'll cook dinner tonight. If you don't find me, you cook."
"Sure," Luke replied. "I'll have norlin roots and sallop greens."
"You're awfully cocky."
"And you're wasting time. Your three minutes starts now."
Briande smiled at him. "I'll only need one. But just so we have the rules straight, 'Olly olly oxen free' means you give up, and I win, and you cook dinner."
"Right," Luke agreed. "Two minutes and forty-five seconds."
Briande stood up and gave him a cheery wave. "Ta." She left through the front door and went around to the side of the house where there were no windows. There she paused for a moment to consider the terrain, and walked towards the marsh where the ground was softer. She crossed it, then retraced her footsteps, and returned to the hut. It was an old trick, childish, really, but this was a child's game, after all. After doing all that, she climbed the old gnarled tree next to the hut and settled herself into its comfortable leafy branches. She still had more than a minute and a left before Luke followed her out the front door.
A slight smile crossed her features as she saw his puzzled expression. She knew he would never find her through the Force. And that, she figured, was the purpose of this exercise. It was one thing she could do well. She couldn't move stones around the way Luke could, but this was something her father had taught her to do even as a little girl.
Luke stood in one place for a moment, then made a circle around the hut, looking in all directions. Then he made a second circle, slower this time. The crease above his brows deepened, but since he had seen her turn to the left as she went out the door, that was the direction he finally chose. For a moment, he stood right under her tree, but he never looked up. He saw the footprints in the marsh and went over for a closer look. He gave his head a slight shake as if unable to believe that he was relying on physical evidence, and crossed the bog where the footprints were leading, to go into the woods. Briande waited until he disappeared before allowing herself a slight chuckle. He'd never find her.
Not unless she helped him. If she helped him.
She jumped down from the tree and ran across the marsh, obliterating her previous footprints and some of Luke's as she followed him into the woods.
This was going to be fun!
.
.
.
Luke knew Briande was somewhere nearby, but that was only because he kept finding footprints. Sometimes he'd find footprints going in opposite directions from the same point, or up to a tree and then one foot each around it on either side, as if the one who had left the footprints had split into two parts and rejoined on the other side of the tree. Once they went straight up a rock face as if the owner had simply walked up it like it was horizontal ground instead of a vertical rock face. It took him a few minutes to figure out how she had done that one. She had tied her shoes to sticks to make the prints when she couldn't reach with her hands any higher, and then had simply climbed to the top where the slope was less steep and reached over the edge to make the prints at the top. Another time he found footprints made by a left shoe only, but in pairs, as if the owner had two left feet. He kept hearing the cry of a strange animal, too, and he thought he knew all the animal sounds on Dagobah.
He suspected, but he wasn't completely sure, that Briande was making the strange animal noises. Whenever he investigated, however, he found nothing.
He'd also been hit a few times with acorns, but whenever he looked up, towards the source of the falling acorns, he couldn't see a thing.
The whole thing was funny, actually, but frustrating, too. Finally, he found Briande's shoes sitting on a rock. In front of the rock, in the dirt, the words "Give up yet?" had been scribbled with a stick.
Luke laughed, then agreed in a loud voice, "Olly olly oxen free!"
Immediately he heard the animal cry again from overhead, and when he looked up, he was rewarded by a shower of green tree nuts. This time, though, Briande smiled at him from one of the higher branches of the tree and curled her fingers in a small wave.
"How did you do that?" Luke wanted to know.
"The footprints?" she asked, moving to a lower branch.
"The Force. I couldn't feel you at all." He felt her presence now, though. As soon as he had called out the magic game-ending words, he'd felt it again.
"I don't know, really." She swung to a lower branch like a gymnast and asked, "How do you lift those heavy rocks?"
"Touché," Luke replied. He couldn't explain in spoken words how he did it.
"Help me down?" Briande asked when she was sitting on the bottom-most branch, still a good eight feet above the ground.
"Why?" he asked. "You seem to be doing all right on your own."
"Because you're a gentleman," she reminded him. “And because I’m barefoot and don’t want to land on a rock.”
"Who said I was a gentleman?" Luke wanted to know.
"And because I might take it easy on you with the dinner menu if you help me down."
"Ah. Well, in that case..." Luke stretched out both his hands and his senses, and levitated her up from the branch. Living things were difficult for him to move, since they generated their own Force-currents, but Briande was different. He had already found that he could pick her up for brief periods, if she let him. He didn't know what it was, but she had the ability to still the currents around herself so that they didn't interfere. If she wasn't ready, however, or if she willed him not to be able to do it, he couldn't. When he was able to lift her through the Force, Briande had described herself as "being still."
He released his Force-hold on her when she was in his arms and let himself enjoy the comfortable weight of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against his shoulder for a second before pulling away. "Well, that was fun. Haven't done it in a while."
"Something you did regularly?" Luke wanted to know.
"Oh, yeah. When we were kids, Brenna and I used to play it all the time. Then, after she crossed to the Dark Side, my father turned it from a game into an exercise."
"An 'exercise'? Did your father ever give a name to this ability?"
Briande shrugged. "He called it 'shielding.' Said it was what saved Brenna and me from Vader." Then she gave Luke an apologetic shrug. "Sorry."
Luke shook his head. "No, don't be sorry. But…shielding…Shield…" He thought back to the couple of times when Yoda had had him play the game, and he had failed miserably. There hadn't been any rebuke, any admonishment for his failure. Yoda had simply Hrrmmppphed and moved on to other things.
Suddenly Luke realized something. "Yoda wasn't training me with that exercise—he was gauging me! Trying to find out where my abilities were. I was never much good at hide-and-seek, but you—" He smiled. "You are a master at it! Let's see what else you can do, shall we?"
"Sorry?" Briande asked.
"Sorry, nothing!" Luke told her, his smile stretching to a grin as she put her shoes back on. "Come on!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her back the way he had come originally.
"Where are we going?"
"Back to the hut, of course!" He half-pulled her back through the swamp, into the hut, and into Yoda's library before releasing her hand. He started searching through the collection of books. "I can't believe I was such an idiot! The first time I saw it, I thought it was, like, a receipt log, or something. An acknowledgement of gift tokens or somesuch—a notion that was not helped by Yoda when I started looking through it. Ah! There it is! He told me that reading this would just be a waste of time. At the time, it was. Everything was so rushed, everything so dependent on my being trained as quickly as possible! But I remember seeing the word 'Shield' before Yoda took the book away from me and told me 'Later.' Deities! I should have known!" He opened the book and started leafing through it, his grin growing wider with each turn of the page. "This 'Book of Gifts' isn't a receipt book! This is a book about different Force-Talents!"
From Yoda's handwritten book, which Luke skimmed through to get the gist, leaving the details for later, he learned that there were about a dozen or so different Force gifts that a sensitive might possess, in varying combinations and degrees. Those combinations were what made each Jedi unique, and training was a matter of developing each talent to its fullest extent.
Many Force-sensitives were "Intuits"—individuals who often had a vague sense of when to do one thing or another—when to fire a weapon, for example. An Intuit could also evaluate the truth behind a statement or claim. and would often just know if something was true or not. There might be some level of precognition involved, but it usually came as flashes of insight rather than more highly developed Sight into the future. Luke and Briande both possessed some degree of Intuition. Luke's had manifested itself in numerous ways, the most important of which was when he had destroyed the first Death Star. He also knew, when Darth Vader had told him he was Luke's father, that the statement was true. The brief flashes of precognition he'd been experiencing lately were another manifestation. Briande—he could tell by the way she had been defeating the seekers lately, that she also was an Intuit. But Intuition was not an ability one could easily learn to control. One might learn to heighten one's intuitive sense, but one couldn't rely on its presence all the time, because it was easy to confuse genuine intuition with desire or fear or some other emotion. Training usually involved blocking one or more physical sense, especially vision, to increase a reliance on feelings and intuition (blindfolded seeker practice, for example, was an intuition exercise), evaluating claims (Luke now realized that some of the “Truth” games he had played with Yoda were for more than just passing the time), and learning to disassociate emotions from the actual intuition.
Luke gave the introduction a second read, and realized that disassociating emotion from intuition wasn't the same as suppressing emotion. He thought on Briande's entire experience on Dagobah, and realized that when she had tried to suppress her emotions, she'd been weaker. Her strength came from when she acknowledged her emotions. The implications for training were to separate emotions from intuition, not to eliminate the emotions altogether and become a machine. That had been the mistake Briande's father had made. Luke had hit the mark by trial and error and pure, dumb luck, seasoned with a dash of...intuition.
He made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh, and decided that he would add some marginalia to Yoda's book, in case it was ever used in the future by someone else.
He flipped to the next section.
"Savants" were a unique group, individuals who were geniuses in specific areas—music, art, or mathematics, for example—and perfectly normal, or even deficient, in other areas. Neither Luke nor Briande were Savants, and once Luke figured that out, he skipped the rest of the information on that gift and went on to read the next section. He'd come back to it later, when there was more time.
"Channels" were those sensitives who could communicate with the energies of certain spirits of once-living beings. Although Luke had been able to do that briefly with the spirits of Ben Kenobi, Yoda, and even his father, Luke was certain that it had had more to do with their abilities rather than his, and Briande hadn't ever been able to communicate with her dead father at all. There were a lot of charlatans who pretended to be Channels, taking advantage of the natural grief of those left behind by loved ones who had passed, but a number of actual Talents had been found among the charlatans.
Luke read on.
"Creature Empaths" could communicate with lower life forms, not by talking with them, exactly, but by receiving and projecting feelings. They were an unusual group of Force-sensitives in that untrained Creature Empaths usually didn't blend well with the general populace, as other Force-sensitives might. If someone was found to be a Creature Empath, training became a priority, because the majority of untrained Creature Empaths apparently went insane. Those few untrained souls who retained their sanity apparently spent nearly their entire lives on space stations or on ships where they were unlikely to encounter the lower life forms. And those who were trained usually didn't go past a basic level, but only to where the Empath could learn to separate impressions and hold them at bay. A fully-trained Creature Empath could control animals as well as read them, but the risk of failure was high, and failure meant that the Creature Empath would most likely live out the rest of his or her life as an animal, or in a constantly drugged state in a hospital institution. As a result, most of the Creature Empaths Yoda had trained had been only partly trained, just enough to hold the empathic impressions at bay and stave off insanity. In the history of the Jedi, there had apparently been one fully trained Creature Empath who had been able to control whole herds of animals at a time, and he had taken on the training of other Creature Empaths. Before him, the likelihood of success in training a Creature Empath beyond the very basic level needed to stave off insanity was somewhere between slim and none. Well, thankfully, Creature Empathy didn't apply to Briande or himself. Luke himself had succeeded in communicating with the lake creature only at a very rudimentary telepathic level. And he had the feeling that the little he had been able to do with the lake creature probably had had a lot to do with its previous contacts with Yoda and other Jedi rather than Luke’s telepathic attempts. If Luke had been its first contact, he doubt he would have gotten through. No, neither Luke nor Briande was a Creature Empath. Fortunately. Luke wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with the implications of a training failure for a Creature Empath who “fell into the Chasm” of feral insanity.
The next group was "Viewers," who could see things out of their physical sight. Luke wasn't a Viewer. Neither was Briande. But Luke was certain that Ben had had remote viewing capabilities. Ben had seen the destruction of Alderaan, probably as it had occurred. Viewers usually saw the past or the present rather than future. Those who saw into the future were a category unto themselves, because the future was always in motion.
"Seers" were the subset of Viewers who could glimpse the future, which was not always immutable, as the Emperor had learned at the end. Yoda had been something of a Seer. That's why he had been able to see Leia and Han on Bespin, before they had been captured and tortured. That was something Luke had gotten telepathically from Yoda, rather than through his own remote viewing or foresight. Luke's only brief glimpses into the future came in dreams, as Briande's did, and were likely more Intuitive than Insightful. Dominant Seers were a pretty rare group. Or maybe not so rare, but because the future was constantly moving, it made things that much harder to pin down. The Sight could be a gift, or a curse, depending on the nature of a vision, and it was usually only the most well-trained Seers who could handle it—especially given how fluid the future was. Well, Yoda had had something like 800 years to perfect his gift. Luke doubted he'd have that long, even if he did possess some level of Sight beyond an unreliable latent ability that was probably just a manifestation of his Intuition.
"Travelers" were similar to "Viewers," but rather than just seeing something occurring elsewhere, Travelers could leave their physical bodies and actually go there. Instead of just glimpsing what was going on elsewhere, a Traveler would simply leave his or her body and go there in spirit. That was very interesting, at least in terms of past events in Luke's life. Ben's ability to just disappear at the moment when Vader would have killed him, and Yoda's ability to do the same at the moment when he would have died was probably related to their ability to Travel. But pulling every drop of energy from one's own body for a last voyage was something a traveler would only be able to do once, at least, in theory, and it was entirely unknown what exactly happened to the Traveler if or when that occurred. But there were some known cases of Force-possession that were thought to have had something to do with Travelers. Apparently, Travelers were largely limited to the Present. Theoretically, it might be possible to travel into the past or future, but there were no documented accounts of that occurring in the histories of the Jedi.
Luke took a long moment to reflect on what he had just read. Palpatine had to have been a Traveler! That's why Luke had been able to sense him after second Death Star! That's why his spirit was still alive, out there, somewhere! And based on what had happened with Briande, her sister Brenna had to be a Traveler, as well! It wasn't yet clear whether Briande herself possessed any abilities to Travel outside of her own body, but this was definitely a section Luke would have to return to, with a more careful study of the details.
"Readers" could touch an object imbued with the energies of its owner and divine information about that owner. Luke remembered Yoda giving him a few various things and asking him to tell everything he could about them, which was nothing. Luke had simply described their physical characteristics, which had earned him more Hrrrmmpph comments from Yoda. Luke would have to search for those objects and see if Briande could pick up anything from them.
"Memorists" were those with an eidetic memory, who once experiencing an event through sight or sound or touch or taste or smell, could recall it perfectly a lifetime later. A memorist musician, for example, could glance at a sheet of music, and then play it perfectly, note for note, even years later, limited only by the musician's dexterity or other non-memory related skills. But there was a huge downside. As nice as it might be to remember notes on a page, any trauma experienced by a Memorist would always be as fresh as the moment it happened. Luke could remember some things in detail—but only after intense, purposeful study, and only for limited periods of time. Then the minute details would fade, as was normal. He was not a Memorist, and doubted whether Briande was, either—and he was extremely glad for that. There were a few things in his life that he would not care to constantly re-live.
"Telepaths" could communicate without spoken words. Luke himself had some telepathic ability, but he wasn't a dominant Telepath. He could communicate with those he was close to, with great effort, and even use the Force to plant a suggestion in some individuals who were physically near. Vader had been something of a Telepath, but like Luke, had probably not been a dominant Telepath. Then there was Palpatine, who had been able to sense Luke’s thoughts and emotions. Palpatine had to have had some telepathic abilities. A strong dominant Telepath didn't need as much physical or emotional closeness as a non-dominant telepath. Briande's stories about communicating with her sister telepathically showed that she also had some ability in that regard. Luke would have to explore that further with her, see how far it went.
"Healers" were a rare group. They used the Force to mend wounds and physically repair damage to the body. This was a skill Luke would dearly love to possess himself. He might in fact have some small ability in that regard, but it was still latent, not fully developed. He could heal himself a little, sometimes, which he knew from an exercise Yoda had once had him try, but not completely, and he hadn't yet tried on others. It was something worth exploring, but it wasn't a dominant trait for himself, and doubted it was for Briande, either. The ability to heal often went hand-in-hand with the ability to see auras, but it was not a perfect correlation. Neither he nor Brenna seemed particularly skilled with auras—Luke couldn’t see them at all, and he wasn’t sure whether or not Briande could. He’d find out, though. And more than any other gift, healing took a toll on the practitioner. A truly gifted dominant Healer might be able to use the Force-energies of other cooperating Force-Talents to aid in the process. Training a healer involved a lot of hard work, and intense practice, and many well-intentioned Talents possessing some measure of the gift simply gave up before they developed the gift beyond more than a very rudimentary level. Still, it was a skill that intrigued Luke, and something he might like to work on for himself later. And if Briande had any latent abilitities in that regard, maybe it was something they could work on together.
"Telekins" or "Movers" were a class that Luke counted himself a member of. That was his dominant gift. A Telekin could use the Force to move or manipulate non-living objects. Dominant Telekins were extremely rare, and the fact that Yoda had also been one had been an extremely fortunate piece of luck. The fact that Anakin/Vader had been a Telekin explained where Luke had gotten his powers from. On the other hand, Leia had never shown any signs of being a Mover, so the gift wasn't necessarily always passed on from parent to child. It was possible that Leia had some latent ability, of course, but at the moment, any such ability that Leia might have possessed was moot. And since Briande did not seem to possess any abilities in this area, Luke moved onto the next group.
"Pyrokinetics" or “Firestarters” were among the most rare of Force-talented individuals, those who could start fires by exciting Force-energy until their object of focus ignited. And they could not only excite Force-energy, they could also slow the energy to cool a thing. Luke remembered one of the few pieces of technology Yoda had used in his own training was a temperature reader, which Yoda had applied to a stone he had heated in the fireplace, and then asked Luke to try to see if he could will the stone to cool. Luke’s apparent ability to cool it by only a few degrees had either been something related to his telekinesis, or just the stone’s natural air-cooling, rather than any gift of pyrokinesis. Luke didn’t think he had any true pyrokinetic abilities, although there was a possibility that the kinetic part of his own telekinetic abilities might transfer to some degree. Luke read with some amusement that Yoda had noted wryly that it was best to have extinguishers on hand when training Pyrokin, and to initiate the training with putting out fires before moving on to starting them, and Luke had to chuckle at that. Except that Yoda also noted that when incidents of "spontaneous combustion" occurred, it might be the conscious—or unconscious—manifestation of a Pyrokin, who could seriously injure others as well as themselves, even without meaning to. Seeking out a Pyrokin was relatively easy process—one had just to search the news feeds for any unexplained conflagrations.
"Conduits" or "Transformers" were the most rare of Force-sensitives. A Conduit could transform one form of Force-energy into another, and utilize that power at will. Palpatine had been a Conduit. That agonizing blue lightning Palpatine had used against Luke was a manifestation of that power.
Interesting. Luke would have to study section in greater detail. There might be something useful in the information.
At last he came to "Shields." Luke read that section carefully, several times, trying to learn everything he could about Briande and her gift.
Paradoxically, Shields were simultaneously the most enigmatic and the most transparent group of Force-sensitives. Also, paradoxically, training a Shield was as much about teaching him or her to lower the shield rather than teaching the sensitive to raise it. “Teach to Cancel as well as Conceal,” Yoda had written. Maintaining a shield was draining, just as levitating an object was, and the sensitive could only re-charge, so to speak, by lowering the shield and resting. Which meant that a Shield had to be generally "open" about him or herself otherwise, because that "openness" gave him or her the reserves of energy needed to sustain blocking a Force-generated attack when it counted. A Shield could block a telepathic attack. A Shield would have been able to withstand Palpatine's energy attack—at least until the Shield's reserves were depleted. Once those reserves were depleted, a Shield was as vulnerable as anyone else—perhaps even more so, because the Shield would be exhausted by that point. Shielding was also unique because it was primarily a defensive capability rather than an offensive one, and a Shield was still as susceptible as anyone else to conventional weapons, such as a lightsaber. So it was important to develop a Shield’s intuitive capabilities and other Force-talents to their fullest extent possible if a Shield was expected to participate in any combative action. Otherwise, a Shield’s best option was simply to...hide.
But if battle was the only option, the flip-side of shielding was that any Force-generated attack was also draining on the attacker. In a sustained battle pitting a direct Force-generated attack against a Shield, the outcome was often pre-determined by who was stronger in the Force, or who was better at wielding conventional weapons, or how other Force-talents compared.
Luke sat back, deep in thought. Things were making a lot more sense now. When he'd first met Briande, she'd already been blocking her sister. As time went on, she'd continued to block, thus draining her resources farther. That was why she hadn't progressed, and had even regressed. Again, it was trial and error, and no small amount of pure, dumb luck on Luke’s part, that had caused him inadvertently to hit on the secret. Briande had never given herself the chance to lower her Shield, and to just rest. And the more her reserves were depleted, the more vulnerable she was to attack. That first night with Luke when she finally had lowered her Shield wasn't enough of a rest to entirely re-build her reserves, but the small build-up might have been enough to alert her sister to the fact that she could replenish her reserves, and why the next morning's attack had been so powerful. It explained why Brenna had attacked again after Luke had goaded Briande into anger when Briande was exhausted. Brenna had been trying to hit Briande hard before Briande could regain her full strength.
Luke looked into the distance thoughtfully. Leia, untrained as she was, had managed to block a Force-attack from Vader, who had tried to telepathically glean the location of the Yavin base from her. Leia was one of the most open people Luke knew. It was easy to tell when she was annoyed, when she was happy, when she was—whatever she was at any given moment. And Leia, even untrained, was able to resist Vader's attacks. Leia had to possess some level of Shielding ability. Would Luke have been able to withstand Vader’s telepathic attack? Especially with the drugs Leia had described having been used on her? He doubted it. He'd only been to hide from Yoda for a few minutes at a time, and from Vader for only the same short period. But Leia had resisted Vader's prolonged probe successfully. Leia, Briande, her sister Brenna, and maybe even their father, who after all, hadn't been killed by Vader--all of them had been right under Vader's nose and had survived.
Interesting.
And maybe Vader himself, who had been openly angry, and, at the end, openly loving, had kept his intentions hidden from the Emperor until it was too late for the Emperor.
But Luke hadn't inherited the same ability to Shield that Leia had. He'd been able to physically hide from Vader for a few moments only, and it took all his concentration to do it. Nor had he been able to block Palatine's Force-energy attack. Then again, Leia had never shown any signs of being able to move stuff around with her mind like Luke could. They'd experimented to see if she could, but she hadn't been able to. So Force-talents weren't automatically passed from parent to child, although there did seem to be a genetic component in there somewhere.
Then another thought struck Luke. If Leia, Briande, Brenna, and maybe Briande's father had been able to hide from Vader and the Emperor, there was no telling how many other Force-sensitives there might still be out there, having shielded themselves from Vader's and Palpatine's searches.
There might be a whole cadre of potential Jedi Knights out there, just waiting for someone to train them. Someone like Luke, even.
Again, interesting.
Luke wondered whether he himself, and now Briande, too, might not be the last of that tradition, after all.
Very interesting.
Luke smiled. It was a pleasant daydream. And then he remembered words from so long-ago now, it seemed, talking about his tendency to daydream. All his life has he looked to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was, on what he was doing!
He returned his thoughts to the present. Well, what he was doing right now was training Briande. And thinking about how he had trained her so far, he realized he hadn't been doing so badly, after all. He'd been teaching her to be honest with herself, and with him—and it turned out that that was exactly what she needed to learn. It turned out that by getting Briande to acknowledge her own feelings, Luke was doing exactly what had been needed, albeit more out of luck than anything else.
There was one more section in Yoda's Book of Gifts, included not because it was a talent, but because it was a "gift" in the truest sense of the word. Unattainable by a single Jedi, yet attainable by every Jedi, and even by some who would be considered as non-Force-sensitives, though strengthened by Force sensitivity. Sought by many, achieved by only some. It was of no use in any practical sense, except when corrupted by the Dark Side in an attempt to seduce a Jedi. And as Luke read on, he realized it was what he himself had been craving all his life. And as he read on, he also realized that it was something Briande had already experienced, with her sister. She had told him as much, that night when it had rained, when he had first held her.
Yoda called it "sacred love."
Briande had called it "compassiatos."
It had nothing to do with physical intimacy, although that was one possible route to achieving it. It had more to do with intimacy of the soul, of finding one's soul-mate. It was a kind of love that could occur between friends, or lovers, or parent and child, or teacher and student, or any two je-he-di, really, whether sensitive to the Force or not. It was connectedness. It was perfect trust. It was openness. It was belonging. It was acceptance of one another's shortcomings. It was vulnerability. It was safety. It was mutual nurturing and caring on a level above what was ordinary. It was not something that could be described, exactly, but if you had it, you knew it.
That section in the book was short. There was no formula for achieving sacred love. The journey was the most important part, but there was no route map, no training guide. The two intimates had to find their way for themselves. And, in fact, it was the making of the path that brought the most joy. There was no destination beyond the here-and-now of the path. But if undertaken correctly, the journey created the destination, and they were one and the same.
Luke finally closed the book and sat back again. He'd study the fine-print details more carefully later. He thought wryly that this book describing Force-gifts was itself the greatest gift he could possibly hope for. It was a training manual of sorts, which was exactly what he needed.
Then he looked at Briande, noting again how beautiful she was, both physically and in what he felt through the Force. The section on "sacred love" came to mind. No training available or required for that, but it was nice just to be able to put a name to it.
Except, he had already had a name for it. Compassiatos. But "sacred love" was a good translation for Standard.
"What are you thinking about?" Briande asked him, noticing his look.
"I'm thinking…that I owe you a dinner," he said, and smiled.
-----
Chapter Twenty-One
The days passed in a whirlwind of political activity: rallies and speeches and meetings and interviews and luncheons and dinners and hand-shaking and small-talk and a million and one other things Han had been entirely clueless about. Han stood by as the silent partner, hating every minute of it, all the stupid political niceties, and being bored to tears. He had no stomach for any of it.
Leia, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease in all of it.
The only thing that had her worried was an upcoming debate with her chief rival who, she told Han, had a way of hitting his opponent from out of the blue with some piece of muck or scandal or political curveball.
Leia knew that as far as scandals went, her record was squeaky clean. But her opponent, the incumbent Senator Bragma, had a reputation for dragging "squeaky clean" reputations through the muck.
The point where Han had finally had enough was at a luncheon where Leia had tried to whisper to Han which fork to use to eat which food. Han had slowly set his fork down, drew in a deep breath, and muttered, "I'm going back to the Falcon," folded his napkin neatly, and stood up and left.
As he was leaving, he heard Leia make up some excuse for his absence, but not her own. She was staying.
And that was that.
She had chosen the luncheon over him, and that was all he needed to know.
The days passed in a whirlwind of political activity: rallies and speeches and meetings and interviews and luncheons and dinners and hand-shaking and small-talk and a million and one other things Han had been entirely clueless about. Han stood by as the silent partner, hating every minute of it, all the stupid political niceties, and being bored to tears. He had no stomach for any of it.
Leia, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease in all of it.
The only thing that had her worried was an upcoming debate with her chief rival who, she told Han, had a way of hitting his opponent from out of the blue with some piece of muck or scandal or political curveball.
Leia knew that as far as scandals went, her record was squeaky clean. But her opponent, the incumbent Senator Bragma, had a reputation for dragging "squeaky clean" reputations through the muck.
The point where Han had finally had enough was at a luncheon where Leia had tried to whisper to Han which fork to use to eat which food. Han had slowly set his fork down, drew in a deep breath, and muttered, "I'm going back to the Falcon," folded his napkin neatly, and stood up and left.
As he was leaving, he heard Leia make up some excuse for his absence, but not her own. She was staying.
And that was that.
She had chosen the luncheon over him, and that was all he needed to know.
-----
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was time, Luke decided. It could not be put off any longer, and it had to be done. He'd done everything else he could to train her, everything Yoda had prescribed for her Force-gifts in his book, except this. He hoped Briande was ready.
He found her at the edge of the lake, recuperating from a long swim. She opened her eyes to look at him, sensing his presence even though he had not made a sound.
"Let's go." he said.
She picked up her jacket and put it on over her wet t-shirt. "Where are we going?"
Luke didn't answer. Briande let the question drop for the time being and increased her pace to keep up with him.
Luke led the way down a strange trail, one that was thickly overgrown with moist vegetation. Even without memory, he would have been able to find the place with his eyes closed. Briande did not seem to feel it yet. Luke's knowledge of what was at the end of their journey gave him the awareness to feel the delicate ripples that moved through the Force. Briande had no such knowledge.
Yet.
Briande followed him. Despite the overgrowth, it was not a particularly difficult course. She assumed it was a distance exercise.
Eventually, they broke into a clearing. Briande was so surprised when Luke stopped that she nearly ran into him. "We'll rest here." Luke said.
"Fine," Briande shrugged. She seated herself on a log and looked up at him.
Luke said nothing. There were no words he could say.
Briande looked away suddenly and shivered. "Luke, do you feel that?"
"What?" he asked.
"Cold...Darkness..." She scanned the trees and foilage that lined the clearing, her gaze settling finally on a large tree whose above-ground roots formed an entrance to a cave below. "It's coming from there..."
"That...cave...is strong with the Dark Side of the Force. That's why I brought you here. It's time for you to go inside."
"What's in there?"
"Nothing." It was true. There was no thing in there.
Briande stood up and took a hesitant step towards the cave entrance. "Cake, then."
Luke shook his head. "Don't lie to me, Briande. More importantly, don't lie to yourself. What do you really feel?"
She stopped and drew a long breath, never taking her eyes from the dark opening. "All right, then," she said shakily. "What I really feel is that if I go in there, I'll never come out again. There's death in there. Something evil..."
"And it scares you?"
"Yes."
Luke closed his eyes and nodded. "This will probably be the most difficult test you face here. It was for me. Moreso for you, because you'll have to keep your shield lowered."
"Do I have to go in alone?"
"If you want to complete the training, yes."
Briande stared at the cave for another long moment, then walked slowly toward it, her hand moving to the lightsaber at her belt.
"You won't need that," Luke told her.
"Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice."
Briande hesitated, then tightened her grip on the hilt of the weapon, drawing some measure of support and courage from an external source rather than an internal one. Luke said nothing. He himself had made the very same mistake, and had learned from it.
She paused at the entrance, turned, and looked at Luke for help. He looked away, knowing that if she chose not to enter, she would never be fully trained. When he turned back, she was gone.
Luke forced himself to wait. He wondered if Yoda had felt the same way every time he had sent one of his students into that Hell-hole of visions.
He wished he had Yoda's patience. He wished he were able to sit quietly on a log and do nothing while he waited. As it was, it was all he could do just to pace back and forth anxiously near the mouth of the cave, and not follow Briande in or call her back.
After a while, he heard a shout, followed by a scream. Luke automatically started to dash inside, but he caught himself. Briande had to finish it alone.
A long time later, Briande finally emerged from the cave, shaken and trembling.
Luke was immediately at her side, finally able to give her the comfort and consolation he had wanted to give, though knowing, in a way, that she didn't need it anymore. He was aware of how affecting the vision could be, but Briande had made it through.
"What did you see?" he asked gently.
Briande met his eyes with difficulty. It was hard for her to talk. "I saw...Brenna—my sister—and...then it was you. I fought her...killed her...but somehow it was you I killed. I'm—" She couldn't finish.
Luke held her close. "It's okay," he whispered, feeling her fight to control a sob. "You can let go."
"Oh, Luke, it's not over yet. The vision...it was you I killed..." Then she buried herself against him and let him hold her while she cried.
It was time, Luke decided. It could not be put off any longer, and it had to be done. He'd done everything else he could to train her, everything Yoda had prescribed for her Force-gifts in his book, except this. He hoped Briande was ready.
He found her at the edge of the lake, recuperating from a long swim. She opened her eyes to look at him, sensing his presence even though he had not made a sound.
"Let's go." he said.
She picked up her jacket and put it on over her wet t-shirt. "Where are we going?"
Luke didn't answer. Briande let the question drop for the time being and increased her pace to keep up with him.
Luke led the way down a strange trail, one that was thickly overgrown with moist vegetation. Even without memory, he would have been able to find the place with his eyes closed. Briande did not seem to feel it yet. Luke's knowledge of what was at the end of their journey gave him the awareness to feel the delicate ripples that moved through the Force. Briande had no such knowledge.
Yet.
Briande followed him. Despite the overgrowth, it was not a particularly difficult course. She assumed it was a distance exercise.
Eventually, they broke into a clearing. Briande was so surprised when Luke stopped that she nearly ran into him. "We'll rest here." Luke said.
"Fine," Briande shrugged. She seated herself on a log and looked up at him.
Luke said nothing. There were no words he could say.
Briande looked away suddenly and shivered. "Luke, do you feel that?"
"What?" he asked.
"Cold...Darkness..." She scanned the trees and foilage that lined the clearing, her gaze settling finally on a large tree whose above-ground roots formed an entrance to a cave below. "It's coming from there..."
"That...cave...is strong with the Dark Side of the Force. That's why I brought you here. It's time for you to go inside."
"What's in there?"
"Nothing." It was true. There was no thing in there.
Briande stood up and took a hesitant step towards the cave entrance. "Cake, then."
Luke shook his head. "Don't lie to me, Briande. More importantly, don't lie to yourself. What do you really feel?"
She stopped and drew a long breath, never taking her eyes from the dark opening. "All right, then," she said shakily. "What I really feel is that if I go in there, I'll never come out again. There's death in there. Something evil..."
"And it scares you?"
"Yes."
Luke closed his eyes and nodded. "This will probably be the most difficult test you face here. It was for me. Moreso for you, because you'll have to keep your shield lowered."
"Do I have to go in alone?"
"If you want to complete the training, yes."
Briande stared at the cave for another long moment, then walked slowly toward it, her hand moving to the lightsaber at her belt.
"You won't need that," Luke told her.
"Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice."
Briande hesitated, then tightened her grip on the hilt of the weapon, drawing some measure of support and courage from an external source rather than an internal one. Luke said nothing. He himself had made the very same mistake, and had learned from it.
She paused at the entrance, turned, and looked at Luke for help. He looked away, knowing that if she chose not to enter, she would never be fully trained. When he turned back, she was gone.
Luke forced himself to wait. He wondered if Yoda had felt the same way every time he had sent one of his students into that Hell-hole of visions.
He wished he had Yoda's patience. He wished he were able to sit quietly on a log and do nothing while he waited. As it was, it was all he could do just to pace back and forth anxiously near the mouth of the cave, and not follow Briande in or call her back.
After a while, he heard a shout, followed by a scream. Luke automatically started to dash inside, but he caught himself. Briande had to finish it alone.
A long time later, Briande finally emerged from the cave, shaken and trembling.
Luke was immediately at her side, finally able to give her the comfort and consolation he had wanted to give, though knowing, in a way, that she didn't need it anymore. He was aware of how affecting the vision could be, but Briande had made it through.
"What did you see?" he asked gently.
Briande met his eyes with difficulty. It was hard for her to talk. "I saw...Brenna—my sister—and...then it was you. I fought her...killed her...but somehow it was you I killed. I'm—" She couldn't finish.
Luke held her close. "It's okay," he whispered, feeling her fight to control a sob. "You can let go."
"Oh, Luke, it's not over yet. The vision...it was you I killed..." Then she buried herself against him and let him hold her while she cried.
-----
Chapter Twenty-Three
Leia had contacted him daily, of course, to ask if everything was all right. Han had said yeah, but he just couldn't take it anymore. She had said she understood, that campaigning could be "overwhelming" to someone not used to it, said would make the appropriate excuses, and he could have as much time as he wanted.
Still, she hadn't left her hotel room to go back to the Falcon with Han, which really irked him. She said she had to prepare for her big up-coming debate.
Han had tried, to no avail, to convince her that what she really needed was to relax. But she had turned down his offer to help her "relax" and stayed in the hotel room, practicing for the debate with her aides.
So Han stayed in the Falcon and watched the campaign feeds from the relative comfort of his cabin, which he had shared with Leia, but which was now his private space once again.
He debated whether or not to watch the debate. He had a ticket to go in person, of course, and spouses seemed to be expected to go, but he really had developed a distaste for all things political.
In the end, he stayed on the Falcon and watched the feeds on the screen in his cabin, primarily because Chewbacca wanted to watch it. It went pretty much as expected, with the moderator asking each candidate a question, with a set time limit for response, and a shorter time limit for rebuttal by the opponent. In Han's uneducated opinion, Leia was doing pretty well—hitting all the strong points of her campaign and emphasizing the weaknesses of Bragma's. Han would have voted for her—if he voted, anyway.
Han motioned to turn it off, but Chewie growled, apparently wanting to see it through to the end. They both knew it was the last two questions that Leia was most concerned about, when each candidate was allowed to ask the other a final question of their own choosing. Han knew that Leia planned to ask Bragma something about how he planned to increase local services while reducing taxes—the answer to which she already knew, but she wanted Bragma to give the answer himself, publicly.
She had drawn the asking of the last question, which was both good and bad—good, because she could turn the topic to whatever she wanted by her question, but bad because Bragma would have the last word.
But first there was Bragma's question for her.
"Tell me, Candidate Organa, is it true that your husband is a smuggler, a cad, a gambler, and a thief, with the manners of a nerf-herder, who probably only married you for your money?"
Chewie growled.
"That's the second time I've been called a 'nerf-herder,'" Han complained. "What is it with nerf-herders?" But he leaned forward to watch Leia. He hadn't expected any part of this campaign, or debate, to be about him, and neither, he suspected, had Leia.
The cameras zoomed tightly on Leia, and Han could tell by the way her jaw had tightened that she was really pissed off by the question. After a few more seconds of jaw-working, she leaned forward to be sure that she was being picked up by her mic.
"Let me answer each of those questions individually. First, my husband is not a smuggler. He was a smuggler, under the Empire. But when he joined the Rebellion, he gave all that up. He became a valuable member of the Resistance, and let me tell you, his experience outrunning Imperial blockades came in very handy.
"Second, he is not a cad. He is a scoundrel, which is something completely different. A cad, sir, is someone like yourself, who will go to any lengths to get what he wants. A scoundrel, on the other hand, is someone who doesn't disguise his own desires as 'concerns'—" here she made a quotation gesture around the word concerns, "—for others. A scoundrel doesn't tolerate the niceties of politics that a diplomat must necessarily engage in. A scoundrel calls a spade a spade, and after a day of dealing with 'yes, ma'am's' and "yes, sir's" or the delicacies of dealing with political egos and tip-toeing around some issues because if you don't, you lose all hope of accomplishing anything important—after a day of all that, it's refreshing to come home to that type of candor. And a scoundrel, unlike a cad, is very, very sexy."
Chewbacca laughed. Han punched him on the arm to quiet him. After all, this was about him, and he wanted to hear what Leia had to say.
"Third, yes, he is a gambler. He gambled on me, for which I am eminently grateful. A gambler takes risks to accomplish his goal. A gambler understands those risks, and his own skills, and combines that understanding with his own instincts to make the best decisions he can make. I'd like to see you, Senator Bragma, pilot a freightor through an asteroid field to escape an Imperial Star Destroyer, like my husband did. On second thought, never mind. You wouldn't have the skill to do it. My husband did. He understood the dangers, both from the asteroids and the Imperials. He knew his own level of skill. He took the gamble, went into the asteroid field, and saved all of us who were onboard his ship."
Han shook his head, remembering. He wouldn't want to do that again.
"Let me add," Leia went on, "that when the odds are against you, and you're in the middle of a battle that you will very likely lose, there is nobody better to have at your side. And as for my husband being a thief, the only thing I've ever known him to steal is my heart. He's one of the most honest people I know—goes along with his being a scoundrel, I suppose."
Chewbacca growled a question.
"I never told her about that," Han admitted.
"As for being a nerf-herder, I've actually met a couple of them. They're nice people. I grant you, I don't think much of nerfs—smelly creatures that they are—but the nerf-herders have their own code of behavior that once you understand it, makes sense.
"Finally—what was the last thing—oh, yeah, that Han only married me for my money—that claim is totally ludicrous. He has never asked me for a single credit. Don't get me wrong. He likes money just as much as anyone, but he is not ruled by it. He's ruled by his conscience—which is why when he once had the chance to easily escape the Battle of Yavin with a shipload of money—that he earned, by the way—he came back and saved me and most of the Alliance from the Imperial Death Star One. That's when I first—"
The chime sounded, indicating that her time was up. She hadn't run over her allotted time on any of the other questions, but she did on this one. "—when I first realized there was more to him than money, and when I fell madly in love with the ex-smuggler, scoundrel, gambler, and thief-of-hearts that I was eventually fortunate enough to call my husband."
Han grinned and punched Chewie on the arm. "At least she didn't call me a nerf-herder again."
Leia drew in a deep breath and fixed her fierce dark eyes on her opponent. "Now, Senator Bragma, it's my turn to ask you something. Why would a candidate such as yourself, whose very first campaign motto was 'Stick to the Issues'—why would such a person feel it necessary to attack another candidate's family? Not her position on the issues at hand, not the character of the candidate herself, but her family? What makes a once-respectable politician such as yourself turn into a—"
Bleeeeeeep, bleeeeeeeep-bleeeeeeeeeee, bleeeeeeeeeeeeeep! The speech-recognition programming in the network censors cancelled out what Leia said audibly for several seconds, but Han could read lips well enough to figure out what she was saying, and he burst out laughing.
The Bleeeep! finally stopped, and Leia's voice came back on. "—ing cad?" She glanced at the studio audience, then picked up her prompter pad of facts, statistics, and key phrases she wanted to emphasize during the debate and walked offstage.
The image cut to one of the wide-angle cameras as Leia stormed off, then switched to the backstage cameras as Leia waved off a couple of her aides and left through the nearest exit.
Han loved it.
So did Chewbacca.
It hardly mattered what Bragma was now stammering on camera.
"Grrnnaaaggghweeah?" Chewbacca asked.
"Oh, who cares? That was great!" Han nudged his co-pilot in the ribs. "You're just jealous that she didn't talk about you."
Leia had contacted him daily, of course, to ask if everything was all right. Han had said yeah, but he just couldn't take it anymore. She had said she understood, that campaigning could be "overwhelming" to someone not used to it, said would make the appropriate excuses, and he could have as much time as he wanted.
Still, she hadn't left her hotel room to go back to the Falcon with Han, which really irked him. She said she had to prepare for her big up-coming debate.
Han had tried, to no avail, to convince her that what she really needed was to relax. But she had turned down his offer to help her "relax" and stayed in the hotel room, practicing for the debate with her aides.
So Han stayed in the Falcon and watched the campaign feeds from the relative comfort of his cabin, which he had shared with Leia, but which was now his private space once again.
He debated whether or not to watch the debate. He had a ticket to go in person, of course, and spouses seemed to be expected to go, but he really had developed a distaste for all things political.
In the end, he stayed on the Falcon and watched the feeds on the screen in his cabin, primarily because Chewbacca wanted to watch it. It went pretty much as expected, with the moderator asking each candidate a question, with a set time limit for response, and a shorter time limit for rebuttal by the opponent. In Han's uneducated opinion, Leia was doing pretty well—hitting all the strong points of her campaign and emphasizing the weaknesses of Bragma's. Han would have voted for her—if he voted, anyway.
Han motioned to turn it off, but Chewie growled, apparently wanting to see it through to the end. They both knew it was the last two questions that Leia was most concerned about, when each candidate was allowed to ask the other a final question of their own choosing. Han knew that Leia planned to ask Bragma something about how he planned to increase local services while reducing taxes—the answer to which she already knew, but she wanted Bragma to give the answer himself, publicly.
She had drawn the asking of the last question, which was both good and bad—good, because she could turn the topic to whatever she wanted by her question, but bad because Bragma would have the last word.
But first there was Bragma's question for her.
"Tell me, Candidate Organa, is it true that your husband is a smuggler, a cad, a gambler, and a thief, with the manners of a nerf-herder, who probably only married you for your money?"
Chewie growled.
"That's the second time I've been called a 'nerf-herder,'" Han complained. "What is it with nerf-herders?" But he leaned forward to watch Leia. He hadn't expected any part of this campaign, or debate, to be about him, and neither, he suspected, had Leia.
The cameras zoomed tightly on Leia, and Han could tell by the way her jaw had tightened that she was really pissed off by the question. After a few more seconds of jaw-working, she leaned forward to be sure that she was being picked up by her mic.
"Let me answer each of those questions individually. First, my husband is not a smuggler. He was a smuggler, under the Empire. But when he joined the Rebellion, he gave all that up. He became a valuable member of the Resistance, and let me tell you, his experience outrunning Imperial blockades came in very handy.
"Second, he is not a cad. He is a scoundrel, which is something completely different. A cad, sir, is someone like yourself, who will go to any lengths to get what he wants. A scoundrel, on the other hand, is someone who doesn't disguise his own desires as 'concerns'—" here she made a quotation gesture around the word concerns, "—for others. A scoundrel doesn't tolerate the niceties of politics that a diplomat must necessarily engage in. A scoundrel calls a spade a spade, and after a day of dealing with 'yes, ma'am's' and "yes, sir's" or the delicacies of dealing with political egos and tip-toeing around some issues because if you don't, you lose all hope of accomplishing anything important—after a day of all that, it's refreshing to come home to that type of candor. And a scoundrel, unlike a cad, is very, very sexy."
Chewbacca laughed. Han punched him on the arm to quiet him. After all, this was about him, and he wanted to hear what Leia had to say.
"Third, yes, he is a gambler. He gambled on me, for which I am eminently grateful. A gambler takes risks to accomplish his goal. A gambler understands those risks, and his own skills, and combines that understanding with his own instincts to make the best decisions he can make. I'd like to see you, Senator Bragma, pilot a freightor through an asteroid field to escape an Imperial Star Destroyer, like my husband did. On second thought, never mind. You wouldn't have the skill to do it. My husband did. He understood the dangers, both from the asteroids and the Imperials. He knew his own level of skill. He took the gamble, went into the asteroid field, and saved all of us who were onboard his ship."
Han shook his head, remembering. He wouldn't want to do that again.
"Let me add," Leia went on, "that when the odds are against you, and you're in the middle of a battle that you will very likely lose, there is nobody better to have at your side. And as for my husband being a thief, the only thing I've ever known him to steal is my heart. He's one of the most honest people I know—goes along with his being a scoundrel, I suppose."
Chewbacca growled a question.
"I never told her about that," Han admitted.
"As for being a nerf-herder, I've actually met a couple of them. They're nice people. I grant you, I don't think much of nerfs—smelly creatures that they are—but the nerf-herders have their own code of behavior that once you understand it, makes sense.
"Finally—what was the last thing—oh, yeah, that Han only married me for my money—that claim is totally ludicrous. He has never asked me for a single credit. Don't get me wrong. He likes money just as much as anyone, but he is not ruled by it. He's ruled by his conscience—which is why when he once had the chance to easily escape the Battle of Yavin with a shipload of money—that he earned, by the way—he came back and saved me and most of the Alliance from the Imperial Death Star One. That's when I first—"
The chime sounded, indicating that her time was up. She hadn't run over her allotted time on any of the other questions, but she did on this one. "—when I first realized there was more to him than money, and when I fell madly in love with the ex-smuggler, scoundrel, gambler, and thief-of-hearts that I was eventually fortunate enough to call my husband."
Han grinned and punched Chewie on the arm. "At least she didn't call me a nerf-herder again."
Leia drew in a deep breath and fixed her fierce dark eyes on her opponent. "Now, Senator Bragma, it's my turn to ask you something. Why would a candidate such as yourself, whose very first campaign motto was 'Stick to the Issues'—why would such a person feel it necessary to attack another candidate's family? Not her position on the issues at hand, not the character of the candidate herself, but her family? What makes a once-respectable politician such as yourself turn into a—"
Bleeeeeeep, bleeeeeeeep-bleeeeeeeeeee, bleeeeeeeeeeeeeep! The speech-recognition programming in the network censors cancelled out what Leia said audibly for several seconds, but Han could read lips well enough to figure out what she was saying, and he burst out laughing.
The Bleeeep! finally stopped, and Leia's voice came back on. "—ing cad?" She glanced at the studio audience, then picked up her prompter pad of facts, statistics, and key phrases she wanted to emphasize during the debate and walked offstage.
The image cut to one of the wide-angle cameras as Leia stormed off, then switched to the backstage cameras as Leia waved off a couple of her aides and left through the nearest exit.
Han loved it.
So did Chewbacca.
It hardly mattered what Bragma was now stammering on camera.
"Grrnnaaaggghweeah?" Chewbacca asked.
"Oh, who cares? That was great!" Han nudged his co-pilot in the ribs. "You're just jealous that she didn't talk about you."
-----
Chapter Twenty-Four
Luke entered the cave slowly, alone and weaponless, without even a lamp. The interior was dark, but he could see where he was going without the light. The dampness and chill was both physical and Force-generated, but there were no secret demons for him here now. The monsters were all in his mind, and he knew them for what they were. But he had a need, and he hoped he would find the answers here.
A snake fell from the darkness around Luke's neck. He brushed it aside, but otherwise ignored it. His need pressed him on, into the deepest and darkest part of the cave.
Where the cave ended, he stopped. If this place held any answers for him, they would be here.
"What does it mean?" he whispered. Then louder, shouting into all the corners of the blackness, he called out, "The dreams! The visions! What do they mean?"
He waited; nothing happened.
The only reply he received was the echo of his own voice and the sound of a bat flapping its wings somewhere overhead.
Luke entered the cave slowly, alone and weaponless, without even a lamp. The interior was dark, but he could see where he was going without the light. The dampness and chill was both physical and Force-generated, but there were no secret demons for him here now. The monsters were all in his mind, and he knew them for what they were. But he had a need, and he hoped he would find the answers here.
A snake fell from the darkness around Luke's neck. He brushed it aside, but otherwise ignored it. His need pressed him on, into the deepest and darkest part of the cave.
Where the cave ended, he stopped. If this place held any answers for him, they would be here.
"What does it mean?" he whispered. Then louder, shouting into all the corners of the blackness, he called out, "The dreams! The visions! What do they mean?"
He waited; nothing happened.
The only reply he received was the echo of his own voice and the sound of a bat flapping its wings somewhere overhead.
-----
Chapter Twenty-Five
Leia made it out of the studio building before the full realization of what she had just done hit her, and she leaned back against the building with groan.
The election was over. She had lost. Even if she turned right back around and marched back inside, there was no saving face. She might as well go back inside and make a concession speech.
But not tonight. Please, Deities, not tonight. She'd just lost her career, the only thing left in her life after driving Han away. There'd be time tomorrow to make it official.
She'd screwed up, and screwed up big time.
Leia had just screwed her political career. She had also screwed up any chance at happiness in her marriage. She had managed to ruin just about every facet of her life, and she had managed to do it all on her own.
She'd have to tell Han how she embarrassed him tonight, if he didn't already know. The thought made her wince inside.
Fortunately, her transport was there waiting for her, and security had made sure there were no reporters blocking the candidates' exit. She got into the transport and told the 'droid driver to go "Anywhere, but here."
"A specific destination, please."
Leia sighed. "Fine. Take me to the spaceport." It would take time to get there through the cavern transport system, but she didn't care. She wasn't in a hurry to face Han.
.
.
.
Han kept the broadcast on for a while and watched the political commentators scramble madly to find something to say when the debate hadn't gone at all like they'd expected. Mostly they kept returning to how "surprised" they were, and how they would "have to wait to see what the people thought."
Han was delighted. Leia had thrown everyone for a loop, including himself. He looked over at Chewbacca and laughed. "They don't know what to do with her," he said.
Chewbacca woofed agreement. He and Han didn't know what to do with her, either.
Eventually the broadcast went back to its "regularly scheduled programming," and Han switched it off. Immediately, the request for entry chime sounded.
"That's probably her," Han said, figuring she'd come back here after her little show. He went to the control panel and opened the door at the top of the gangplank. He took a step onto the gangplank to greet Leia, and instead saw a horde of reporters begin swarming up towards him.
"What the—" Han began.
"Captain Solo!" shouted one. "What did you think of your wife's speech?"
"Did you see it?" shouted another.
Microphones were shoved into his face from all directions.
"Was her walk-out planned?"
"Did you know she was going to do that?"
"Were you really a smuggler?"
The questions came flying thick and fast, one right on top of the other, most of them he couldn't even hear because of the sheer number and noise. But he didn't want them around his ship, and they were pressing closer to the gangplank. Han moved his hand meaningfully towards his blaster.
The reporters started to shrink back down the ramp even before Han could draw his blaster, and Han knew that Chewbacca had stepped onto the gangplank behind him.
As soon as Han opened his mouth, the din fell silent. "I'm only gonna say this once," Han said, "And then I'm gonna shoot the next reporter or cameraman or news 'droid that sets foot near my ship. I saw her speech. I loved it. And just about everything everybody has ever said about me is true, including the fact that I hate reporters and would like nothing better than a good excuse to blast one into the next star system. Now, go! Leave my ship alone!"
The reporters were encouraged to do exactly that by Han's blaster, which was now drawn, and especially by the huge hairy bulk with large fangs that had just stepped around Han, and was waving his large hairy arms wildly to shoo them away.
.
.
.
The request for entry chime rang softly, but Han just lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling of his cabin in the Falcon. It was probably just another reporter that had slipped past Chewbacca's guard. Sometimes, when Chewie was busy having too much fun scaring one off, another managed to get past him, although the number of chimes had gotten fewer and fewer over the course of the last couple of hours. Han had been ignoring them for the better part of the night, and turned the volume way down. He was still thinking about the speech, and every time he thought about the bleeped parts, he started laughing again. It took him a moment to register that the entry chime had only rung once, when those damn reporters insisted on ringing it a dozen or more times in the space of a second, and he rolled over and switched on the viewer.
It was Leia.
She hesitated, started to reach for the chime button again, then changed her mind and turned away.
Han quickly reached for the answer button. He didn't want her to leave. "Hey!"
"Han, please let me in. I need to see you."
"Sure." He hit the switch that lowered the gangplank, and went to meet her in the passenger lounge.
"Did you see?" she asked.
Han gave her a lopsided grin. "I saw."
Leia dropped into the nearest chair with a loud groan. "So did half a billion other people. Just shoot me with your blaster, will you, and put me out of my misery."
Han laughed.
"I'm serious," she insisted. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him, and her next words really were serious. "I'm sorry, Han. You were absolutely right. I was putting my career first, and taking you for granted. I'm sorry for putting you through all that. I'm sorry for dragging you through public scrutiny. I'm sorry I embarrassed you in front of half a billion people."
Han bent down and kissed her on the top of the head. "I forgive you." What did he care about public opinion?
He moved behind the chair and began rubbing her shoulders, but she pulled away and stood up. "You won't forgive me for the rest of what I have to tell you."
"Oh?"
"I...seem to have a problem controlling my temper, and I—what I'm trying to say, Han, is that I...I really screwed things up for you with your grandmother. I'm sorry. I—before we left Corellia, I told her off, and I—"
"You told her off?" Han was delighted.
"Yes, and I...I'm sorry, Han. I called her a 'no-good, scum-feeding, mannerless nerf-herder.'"
Han chuckled, "What is it with politicians and 'nerf-herders'? Is that the most insulting thing you can think of?" He moved around from the chair to stand in front of her, and put his hands on her shoulders. "We're going to have to work on your vocabulary, Sweetheart, although after what I thinkyou said tonight, that shouldn't be too difficult."
"And I threw your medallion at her. That's why I couldn't wear it at the dinner."
He started nuzzling her neck.
"And I—Oh, Han, stop that. I can't think straight when you do that."
"Good," he murmured, and nuzzled her some more.
"I told her I was—I was adopted and that—that I didn't care if you were or weren't the last baron of Hanaar." She was finding it more and more difficult not to be distracted.
He stopped then, and she wished he wouldn't, forgetting that she had just told him to stop a moment before. "Do you?" he asked.
Now he was running a finger up her spine.
"Do I, what?" Leia asked, forgetting what the question was.
"Care."
"Oh. Yes. I mean—no! Not about that.."
"Good. He began kissing her neck again.
She sighed contentedly, then remembered he was supposed to be mad at her, and pulled away. "Hey!"
"What?"
"Aren't you—I mean...you're mad at me...aren't you?"
"Do I look mad?" He picked up where he had left off before she pulled away.
"Mmmmmmmaaay...Maybe you just...Maybe you you're just not getting what I'm trying to tell you."
"Oh, I got it," Han said agreeably. "You ruined my life, and now you're apologizing. I wish you'd stop."
"Stop what?" She didn't want him to stop.
"Apologizing. Stop apologizing, and kiss me."
"Oh. Okay."
.
.
.
They slept in late the next morning, and even then didn't rise until well into mid-day. There were no more reporters. Chewie must have chased them all off. If he had come back inside, they didn't hear him. They had talked about Han's taking the job on Corellia, not as a reenlistment, but as a civilian "advisor," which Han was pretty sure Taj would agree to. They talked about arranging his contract so that they could plan "conjugal visits." They talked about the weather on Coruscant, and exactly which words Leia had used that had been "bleeped." They talked about her concession speech, and a few other "bleep" words she could use that she didn't know before Han taught them to her. They talked about Han dropping her off at Coruscant before continuing on to Corellia. They talked about the possibility of Leia getting a job as a political assistant to Mon Mothma. They talked about a lot of things they had never talked about before, and a few that they had.
Eventually, though, Leia noticed how late it had gotten, and started feeling guilty. She kissed Han soundly, got up, threw his robe on, and headed for the shower.
"Hey, that's my robe!" Han complained.
In answer, Leia wiggled her rear end at him through the robe, and kept going.
Han laughed. "If that's supposed to be seductive, it ain't working."
"It's not?" came the answer through the door.
Han pulled on his pants and turned on the broadcast monitor. He was surprised to see his own face on the screen, over the backs of heads of a couple of reporters. His blaster was drawn, and repeating what he had said the night before, "I'm only gonna say this once, and then I'm gonna shoot the next reporter or cameraman or news 'droid that sets foot near my ship."
"What?" came a question from the other side of the door.
"Nothing," Han replied. He turned the sound down, and sat on the bed to watch.
The recorded Han went on. "I saw her speech. I loved it. And just about everything everybody has ever said about me is true, including the fact that I hate reporters and would like nothing better than a good excuse to blast one into the next star system. Now, go! Leave my ship alone!"
Then Chewbacca filled the camera, and the picture jounced and tilted as the camera operator beat a hasty retreat. Han grimaced. He'd have to ask Leia's forgiveness, it seemed.
The scene switched back to political commentators, the same political commentators Han had watched the night before. One of them laughed. "Apparently the Princess's husband isn't the only one who loved her speech. Her popularity in the polls continues to rise. We project another eight to ten points before the numbers start leveling off."
"You know," said the other commentator, smiling good-naturedly, "I can appreciate her husband's reaction to the reporters. I've had similar problems with some of my fans, and have sometimes wished I had someone like Captain Solo's co-pilot to chase them away."
"He certainly is a character, isn't he?" said the other. "And he's becoming just about as popular as the Princess is. Let's see what some of our viewers think."
The scene switched to outside the studio, where a rather plumpish couple were taking turns looking into the camera and talking into the microphone. The woman said something about how 'handsome' Captain Solo was, and Han shuddered, considering the source. The man said that the Princess had hisvote. Then someone with obviously more intelligence commented that "It's about time somebody told Bragma to stick to the issues. The fact that Princess Organa had the nerve to do it shows that she'll have the nerve to go against the grain when the situation calls for it."
Han watched, fascinated, as person after person raved about Leia's walk-out, and a few talked about him, as well. She was called "refreshing" and "gutsy" and a whole lot of other adjectives. Only one or two had anything negative to say. One didn't like the fact that she lost her temper. Another said that he liked her, but she was "a bit young to be taking on senatorial responsibilities."
The screen returned to the commentators. "Young," said one, following up on the last interviewee, "but not inexperienced." The other went on to list Leia's credentials as a senator from Alderaan, and the first one added her contributions in the Rebel Wars, as the Rebellion against the Empire had come to be called.
Leia eventually came out of the shower and headed for Han's closet, not seeing the screen. "Do you mind if I borrow some of your clothes? All mine are back at the hotel. I'll need to change before I make my concession speech, of course, but I—"
"Leia," Han interrupted, "You may want to see this before you go making any 'concession' speeches."
He turned the sound up.
"No one has seen hide nor hair of the Princess since she walked out of the debate. She hasn't returned to her hotel room, and reporters can't seem to get near her husband's ship."
"She's probably just letting events take their natural course," said the other commentator. "It's a shrewd move, and puts all the more pressure on Bragma to respond."
"Almost as shrewd as walking out of the debate," the first commentator agreed.
Leia stared in disbelief. "'Shrewd'?" she asked.
"Just wait," Han told her.
One commentator put his hand up to his ear for a second. "I'm just receiving word now that Bragma will be making a statement in a few minutes."
"Will it be a concession statement, do you think?" the other asked.
"Probably. The Princess is so far ahead of him in the polls that he might as well."
Leia stared. "All I did was lose my temper."
Han turned off the screen and stood in front of it with his arms folded, regarding her. "Leia," he said, "you don't seem to get it. It's when you lose your temper that you're at your most attractive. Nobodylikes a wimpy princess. Especially me."
She laughed. "The Princess and the Pirate. Sounds like a 'B' rated entertainment."
"Hey, I like the B's."
"Truth be told, so do I." Then she sighed. "You think this will really work?"
"What, work?"
"You, me—" she gestured around. "This."
"Nah, not this. I hate politics. I don't want to be following you around like a trained mortu, and Deities know I don't want to be a first-husband or anything like that."
"So…" Leia was almost afraid to ask, but knew she had to. "What do you want to do? Get a divorce or something?"
"Nah, nothing like that," Han replied. "You do your thing, I'll do mine, and we'll meet up as best we can."
"How often will that be?"
He grinned. "Give me more reasons like you did last night, and you'll see more of me than you can handle."
Leia sighed and let herself be folded into his arms. "Married couples are supposed to be together all the time."
"Says who? Besides, I figure we can be together without really…being together all the time." He cupped her chin and tilted it up. "You love politics, right?"
"It's what I was raised to."
"Well, I can't stand politics. Or having to worry about which spoon to use, or what the right thing to say is."
"It's called 'etiquette,' Han."
"Whatever. You can have it. So we both do our own thing, come together in between. It'll work."
"Okay," she said. There was a moment, then she asked, "When do you want to leave?"
Han grinned. "Day after tomorrow. I'll be on my best behavior tomorrow, give you a nice show of solidarity, whatever you need to clinch this election—not that you really need it—pick you up in a week or so, and take you to Coruscant. How's that?"
"Perfect," she said, and kissed him. "I'll tell the docking crew to unlock your weapons before you go."
"Don't bother, I've already done it."
"You already—" She groaned, knowing that they were still officially locked.
Han looked at her and spread his hands. "Hey, it's me, remember?"
Leia made it out of the studio building before the full realization of what she had just done hit her, and she leaned back against the building with groan.
The election was over. She had lost. Even if she turned right back around and marched back inside, there was no saving face. She might as well go back inside and make a concession speech.
But not tonight. Please, Deities, not tonight. She'd just lost her career, the only thing left in her life after driving Han away. There'd be time tomorrow to make it official.
She'd screwed up, and screwed up big time.
Leia had just screwed her political career. She had also screwed up any chance at happiness in her marriage. She had managed to ruin just about every facet of her life, and she had managed to do it all on her own.
She'd have to tell Han how she embarrassed him tonight, if he didn't already know. The thought made her wince inside.
Fortunately, her transport was there waiting for her, and security had made sure there were no reporters blocking the candidates' exit. She got into the transport and told the 'droid driver to go "Anywhere, but here."
"A specific destination, please."
Leia sighed. "Fine. Take me to the spaceport." It would take time to get there through the cavern transport system, but she didn't care. She wasn't in a hurry to face Han.
.
.
.
Han kept the broadcast on for a while and watched the political commentators scramble madly to find something to say when the debate hadn't gone at all like they'd expected. Mostly they kept returning to how "surprised" they were, and how they would "have to wait to see what the people thought."
Han was delighted. Leia had thrown everyone for a loop, including himself. He looked over at Chewbacca and laughed. "They don't know what to do with her," he said.
Chewbacca woofed agreement. He and Han didn't know what to do with her, either.
Eventually the broadcast went back to its "regularly scheduled programming," and Han switched it off. Immediately, the request for entry chime sounded.
"That's probably her," Han said, figuring she'd come back here after her little show. He went to the control panel and opened the door at the top of the gangplank. He took a step onto the gangplank to greet Leia, and instead saw a horde of reporters begin swarming up towards him.
"What the—" Han began.
"Captain Solo!" shouted one. "What did you think of your wife's speech?"
"Did you see it?" shouted another.
Microphones were shoved into his face from all directions.
"Was her walk-out planned?"
"Did you know she was going to do that?"
"Were you really a smuggler?"
The questions came flying thick and fast, one right on top of the other, most of them he couldn't even hear because of the sheer number and noise. But he didn't want them around his ship, and they were pressing closer to the gangplank. Han moved his hand meaningfully towards his blaster.
The reporters started to shrink back down the ramp even before Han could draw his blaster, and Han knew that Chewbacca had stepped onto the gangplank behind him.
As soon as Han opened his mouth, the din fell silent. "I'm only gonna say this once," Han said, "And then I'm gonna shoot the next reporter or cameraman or news 'droid that sets foot near my ship. I saw her speech. I loved it. And just about everything everybody has ever said about me is true, including the fact that I hate reporters and would like nothing better than a good excuse to blast one into the next star system. Now, go! Leave my ship alone!"
The reporters were encouraged to do exactly that by Han's blaster, which was now drawn, and especially by the huge hairy bulk with large fangs that had just stepped around Han, and was waving his large hairy arms wildly to shoo them away.
.
.
.
The request for entry chime rang softly, but Han just lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling of his cabin in the Falcon. It was probably just another reporter that had slipped past Chewbacca's guard. Sometimes, when Chewie was busy having too much fun scaring one off, another managed to get past him, although the number of chimes had gotten fewer and fewer over the course of the last couple of hours. Han had been ignoring them for the better part of the night, and turned the volume way down. He was still thinking about the speech, and every time he thought about the bleeped parts, he started laughing again. It took him a moment to register that the entry chime had only rung once, when those damn reporters insisted on ringing it a dozen or more times in the space of a second, and he rolled over and switched on the viewer.
It was Leia.
She hesitated, started to reach for the chime button again, then changed her mind and turned away.
Han quickly reached for the answer button. He didn't want her to leave. "Hey!"
"Han, please let me in. I need to see you."
"Sure." He hit the switch that lowered the gangplank, and went to meet her in the passenger lounge.
"Did you see?" she asked.
Han gave her a lopsided grin. "I saw."
Leia dropped into the nearest chair with a loud groan. "So did half a billion other people. Just shoot me with your blaster, will you, and put me out of my misery."
Han laughed.
"I'm serious," she insisted. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him, and her next words really were serious. "I'm sorry, Han. You were absolutely right. I was putting my career first, and taking you for granted. I'm sorry for putting you through all that. I'm sorry for dragging you through public scrutiny. I'm sorry I embarrassed you in front of half a billion people."
Han bent down and kissed her on the top of the head. "I forgive you." What did he care about public opinion?
He moved behind the chair and began rubbing her shoulders, but she pulled away and stood up. "You won't forgive me for the rest of what I have to tell you."
"Oh?"
"I...seem to have a problem controlling my temper, and I—what I'm trying to say, Han, is that I...I really screwed things up for you with your grandmother. I'm sorry. I—before we left Corellia, I told her off, and I—"
"You told her off?" Han was delighted.
"Yes, and I...I'm sorry, Han. I called her a 'no-good, scum-feeding, mannerless nerf-herder.'"
Han chuckled, "What is it with politicians and 'nerf-herders'? Is that the most insulting thing you can think of?" He moved around from the chair to stand in front of her, and put his hands on her shoulders. "We're going to have to work on your vocabulary, Sweetheart, although after what I thinkyou said tonight, that shouldn't be too difficult."
"And I threw your medallion at her. That's why I couldn't wear it at the dinner."
He started nuzzling her neck.
"And I—Oh, Han, stop that. I can't think straight when you do that."
"Good," he murmured, and nuzzled her some more.
"I told her I was—I was adopted and that—that I didn't care if you were or weren't the last baron of Hanaar." She was finding it more and more difficult not to be distracted.
He stopped then, and she wished he wouldn't, forgetting that she had just told him to stop a moment before. "Do you?" he asked.
Now he was running a finger up her spine.
"Do I, what?" Leia asked, forgetting what the question was.
"Care."
"Oh. Yes. I mean—no! Not about that.."
"Good. He began kissing her neck again.
She sighed contentedly, then remembered he was supposed to be mad at her, and pulled away. "Hey!"
"What?"
"Aren't you—I mean...you're mad at me...aren't you?"
"Do I look mad?" He picked up where he had left off before she pulled away.
"Mmmmmmmaaay...Maybe you just...Maybe you you're just not getting what I'm trying to tell you."
"Oh, I got it," Han said agreeably. "You ruined my life, and now you're apologizing. I wish you'd stop."
"Stop what?" She didn't want him to stop.
"Apologizing. Stop apologizing, and kiss me."
"Oh. Okay."
.
.
.
They slept in late the next morning, and even then didn't rise until well into mid-day. There were no more reporters. Chewie must have chased them all off. If he had come back inside, they didn't hear him. They had talked about Han's taking the job on Corellia, not as a reenlistment, but as a civilian "advisor," which Han was pretty sure Taj would agree to. They talked about arranging his contract so that they could plan "conjugal visits." They talked about the weather on Coruscant, and exactly which words Leia had used that had been "bleeped." They talked about her concession speech, and a few other "bleep" words she could use that she didn't know before Han taught them to her. They talked about Han dropping her off at Coruscant before continuing on to Corellia. They talked about the possibility of Leia getting a job as a political assistant to Mon Mothma. They talked about a lot of things they had never talked about before, and a few that they had.
Eventually, though, Leia noticed how late it had gotten, and started feeling guilty. She kissed Han soundly, got up, threw his robe on, and headed for the shower.
"Hey, that's my robe!" Han complained.
In answer, Leia wiggled her rear end at him through the robe, and kept going.
Han laughed. "If that's supposed to be seductive, it ain't working."
"It's not?" came the answer through the door.
Han pulled on his pants and turned on the broadcast monitor. He was surprised to see his own face on the screen, over the backs of heads of a couple of reporters. His blaster was drawn, and repeating what he had said the night before, "I'm only gonna say this once, and then I'm gonna shoot the next reporter or cameraman or news 'droid that sets foot near my ship."
"What?" came a question from the other side of the door.
"Nothing," Han replied. He turned the sound down, and sat on the bed to watch.
The recorded Han went on. "I saw her speech. I loved it. And just about everything everybody has ever said about me is true, including the fact that I hate reporters and would like nothing better than a good excuse to blast one into the next star system. Now, go! Leave my ship alone!"
Then Chewbacca filled the camera, and the picture jounced and tilted as the camera operator beat a hasty retreat. Han grimaced. He'd have to ask Leia's forgiveness, it seemed.
The scene switched back to political commentators, the same political commentators Han had watched the night before. One of them laughed. "Apparently the Princess's husband isn't the only one who loved her speech. Her popularity in the polls continues to rise. We project another eight to ten points before the numbers start leveling off."
"You know," said the other commentator, smiling good-naturedly, "I can appreciate her husband's reaction to the reporters. I've had similar problems with some of my fans, and have sometimes wished I had someone like Captain Solo's co-pilot to chase them away."
"He certainly is a character, isn't he?" said the other. "And he's becoming just about as popular as the Princess is. Let's see what some of our viewers think."
The scene switched to outside the studio, where a rather plumpish couple were taking turns looking into the camera and talking into the microphone. The woman said something about how 'handsome' Captain Solo was, and Han shuddered, considering the source. The man said that the Princess had hisvote. Then someone with obviously more intelligence commented that "It's about time somebody told Bragma to stick to the issues. The fact that Princess Organa had the nerve to do it shows that she'll have the nerve to go against the grain when the situation calls for it."
Han watched, fascinated, as person after person raved about Leia's walk-out, and a few talked about him, as well. She was called "refreshing" and "gutsy" and a whole lot of other adjectives. Only one or two had anything negative to say. One didn't like the fact that she lost her temper. Another said that he liked her, but she was "a bit young to be taking on senatorial responsibilities."
The screen returned to the commentators. "Young," said one, following up on the last interviewee, "but not inexperienced." The other went on to list Leia's credentials as a senator from Alderaan, and the first one added her contributions in the Rebel Wars, as the Rebellion against the Empire had come to be called.
Leia eventually came out of the shower and headed for Han's closet, not seeing the screen. "Do you mind if I borrow some of your clothes? All mine are back at the hotel. I'll need to change before I make my concession speech, of course, but I—"
"Leia," Han interrupted, "You may want to see this before you go making any 'concession' speeches."
He turned the sound up.
"No one has seen hide nor hair of the Princess since she walked out of the debate. She hasn't returned to her hotel room, and reporters can't seem to get near her husband's ship."
"She's probably just letting events take their natural course," said the other commentator. "It's a shrewd move, and puts all the more pressure on Bragma to respond."
"Almost as shrewd as walking out of the debate," the first commentator agreed.
Leia stared in disbelief. "'Shrewd'?" she asked.
"Just wait," Han told her.
One commentator put his hand up to his ear for a second. "I'm just receiving word now that Bragma will be making a statement in a few minutes."
"Will it be a concession statement, do you think?" the other asked.
"Probably. The Princess is so far ahead of him in the polls that he might as well."
Leia stared. "All I did was lose my temper."
Han turned off the screen and stood in front of it with his arms folded, regarding her. "Leia," he said, "you don't seem to get it. It's when you lose your temper that you're at your most attractive. Nobodylikes a wimpy princess. Especially me."
She laughed. "The Princess and the Pirate. Sounds like a 'B' rated entertainment."
"Hey, I like the B's."
"Truth be told, so do I." Then she sighed. "You think this will really work?"
"What, work?"
"You, me—" she gestured around. "This."
"Nah, not this. I hate politics. I don't want to be following you around like a trained mortu, and Deities know I don't want to be a first-husband or anything like that."
"So…" Leia was almost afraid to ask, but knew she had to. "What do you want to do? Get a divorce or something?"
"Nah, nothing like that," Han replied. "You do your thing, I'll do mine, and we'll meet up as best we can."
"How often will that be?"
He grinned. "Give me more reasons like you did last night, and you'll see more of me than you can handle."
Leia sighed and let herself be folded into his arms. "Married couples are supposed to be together all the time."
"Says who? Besides, I figure we can be together without really…being together all the time." He cupped her chin and tilted it up. "You love politics, right?"
"It's what I was raised to."
"Well, I can't stand politics. Or having to worry about which spoon to use, or what the right thing to say is."
"It's called 'etiquette,' Han."
"Whatever. You can have it. So we both do our own thing, come together in between. It'll work."
"Okay," she said. There was a moment, then she asked, "When do you want to leave?"
Han grinned. "Day after tomorrow. I'll be on my best behavior tomorrow, give you a nice show of solidarity, whatever you need to clinch this election—not that you really need it—pick you up in a week or so, and take you to Coruscant. How's that?"
"Perfect," she said, and kissed him. "I'll tell the docking crew to unlock your weapons before you go."
"Don't bother, I've already done it."
"You already—" She groaned, knowing that they were still officially locked.
Han looked at her and spread his hands. "Hey, it's me, remember?"
-----
Chapter Twenty-Six
Luke had the dream again. Palpatine, finding him, taking him over, possessing him. And then…this time, there was more. Briande. On her knees, crawling to him. He must have been laying on the floor. Her face streaked with tears. Her lightsaber raised to strike. Striking. Killing him. Releasing him from the Darkness. Destroying the Darkness.
Luke awoke, felt Briande shivering, knew that she was awake, too.
They had mind-linked, in sleep, sharing each other’s thoughts and dreams. This was something Briande had taught him, how to take their link to a deeper level, like the one she had shared with her sister. It was…the most wonderful thing he’d ever experienced, being compassiatos. Finding that "sacred love." Knowing each other in a way that went so beyond the physical intimacy they shared. Knowing each others’ secrets--all of them—and finding perfect acceptance. This was the level of intimacy Briande had once shared with her sister, and now experiencing it for himself, Luke finally understood the pain of separation the loss of it had caused her.
Briande broke the link, not wanting to share the terror her dream-vision had caused within her. "You saw it, didn't you?" she whispered.
"Yes," Luke replied. "All of it. My vision, and yours."
"Palpatine?"
"Yes. Did you see it?"
"I saw…Darkness. Cold."
Luke nodded. "And then you saw it in me."
"Yes, but…I don't understand. You said there's always a choice."
"I don't understand it, either. There is always the choice."
"Then why—?"
"I don't know. But it has something to do with destroying Palpatine forever. I think he's a Traveler, Brie. Just like Ben and Yoda. I think that just before his body died, his spirit left. Left and found someone else's body to inhabit. And I think we—you and I—have the chance to destroy him once and for all, to keep his Darkness from becoming as powerful as it once was."
"By killing you?"
"Yes. I don't understand it, but that's what I saw. There's something else you should know. I know the Emperor's soul. I saw it, just for a second. During the Battle of Endor, I was his prisoner. He very nearly turned me to the Dark Side. But that brief glimpse was enough to turn me back."
"How?"
"Because I saw what he would destroy if he won."
"What was that?"
"What do I love, Brie? More than anything else?"
"You love love," she said simply.
Luke nodded. "I love love. I love the feeling I got from Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. I love the feeling I get from Leia, although we were never as close as you and your sister. I love the feeling I got from Ben. I love the feeling I get when I see Han and Leia look at each other. And most of all, I love thisfeeling that I have with you. Palpatine would have taken that away from me. He would have replaced every feeling of love I ever had or would ever have with hatred and anger. That's what I saw from Palpatine, and why, ultimately, he couldn't turn me. This feeling I have with you--this feeling—" he pounded his chest, once, "—is worth dying for. And I can honestly tell you, I happen to like living, especially when I'm with you. But Palpatine would destroy this feeling--will destroy it, if he can—and that, for me, would be far worse than death."
Luke was breathing hard when he finished talking. It was the most impassioned speech he ever gave, and he meant every word, every syllable. He hoped he had gotten through to Briande.
"If you're dead, so are your feelings."
Luke smiled. "No. Love survives. More than anything else, it's love that survives." He wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs and kissed where they had been. "Brie, if it ever comes to a point where you would have to choose for me, make the choice I would want you to make right now. Will you promise that for me?"
"I can't, Luke."
His ice-blue eyes pierced her. "Yes, you can. We both know you can. Because if you don't, this vision-gift will be wasted."
"Gift!" she spat derisively.
"Yes, gift. This vision is a gift, because it's preparing us for what we have to do."
"I don't think anything could ever prepare me for that."
Luke smiled again and wrapped his arms around her, savoring the warmth of her against him, both physically and through the Force. "I guess we'll see," he murmured, and kissed her hair.
Luke had the dream again. Palpatine, finding him, taking him over, possessing him. And then…this time, there was more. Briande. On her knees, crawling to him. He must have been laying on the floor. Her face streaked with tears. Her lightsaber raised to strike. Striking. Killing him. Releasing him from the Darkness. Destroying the Darkness.
Luke awoke, felt Briande shivering, knew that she was awake, too.
They had mind-linked, in sleep, sharing each other’s thoughts and dreams. This was something Briande had taught him, how to take their link to a deeper level, like the one she had shared with her sister. It was…the most wonderful thing he’d ever experienced, being compassiatos. Finding that "sacred love." Knowing each other in a way that went so beyond the physical intimacy they shared. Knowing each others’ secrets--all of them—and finding perfect acceptance. This was the level of intimacy Briande had once shared with her sister, and now experiencing it for himself, Luke finally understood the pain of separation the loss of it had caused her.
Briande broke the link, not wanting to share the terror her dream-vision had caused within her. "You saw it, didn't you?" she whispered.
"Yes," Luke replied. "All of it. My vision, and yours."
"Palpatine?"
"Yes. Did you see it?"
"I saw…Darkness. Cold."
Luke nodded. "And then you saw it in me."
"Yes, but…I don't understand. You said there's always a choice."
"I don't understand it, either. There is always the choice."
"Then why—?"
"I don't know. But it has something to do with destroying Palpatine forever. I think he's a Traveler, Brie. Just like Ben and Yoda. I think that just before his body died, his spirit left. Left and found someone else's body to inhabit. And I think we—you and I—have the chance to destroy him once and for all, to keep his Darkness from becoming as powerful as it once was."
"By killing you?"
"Yes. I don't understand it, but that's what I saw. There's something else you should know. I know the Emperor's soul. I saw it, just for a second. During the Battle of Endor, I was his prisoner. He very nearly turned me to the Dark Side. But that brief glimpse was enough to turn me back."
"How?"
"Because I saw what he would destroy if he won."
"What was that?"
"What do I love, Brie? More than anything else?"
"You love love," she said simply.
Luke nodded. "I love love. I love the feeling I got from Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. I love the feeling I get from Leia, although we were never as close as you and your sister. I love the feeling I got from Ben. I love the feeling I get when I see Han and Leia look at each other. And most of all, I love thisfeeling that I have with you. Palpatine would have taken that away from me. He would have replaced every feeling of love I ever had or would ever have with hatred and anger. That's what I saw from Palpatine, and why, ultimately, he couldn't turn me. This feeling I have with you--this feeling—" he pounded his chest, once, "—is worth dying for. And I can honestly tell you, I happen to like living, especially when I'm with you. But Palpatine would destroy this feeling--will destroy it, if he can—and that, for me, would be far worse than death."
Luke was breathing hard when he finished talking. It was the most impassioned speech he ever gave, and he meant every word, every syllable. He hoped he had gotten through to Briande.
"If you're dead, so are your feelings."
Luke smiled. "No. Love survives. More than anything else, it's love that survives." He wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs and kissed where they had been. "Brie, if it ever comes to a point where you would have to choose for me, make the choice I would want you to make right now. Will you promise that for me?"
"I can't, Luke."
His ice-blue eyes pierced her. "Yes, you can. We both know you can. Because if you don't, this vision-gift will be wasted."
"Gift!" she spat derisively.
"Yes, gift. This vision is a gift, because it's preparing us for what we have to do."
"I don't think anything could ever prepare me for that."
Luke smiled again and wrapped his arms around her, savoring the warmth of her against him, both physically and through the Force. "I guess we'll see," he murmured, and kissed her hair.
-----
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Luke awoke when Briande stirred in his arms. There had been no unconscious mind-link this time. Ever since the dream-vision returned, she’d resisted the more intimate link, and he’d let it be.
Now she sat up straight, staring into the distance at something which only she could see.
"What is it?" Luke asked softly.
She answered slowly, from far away. "It's time. Brenna has massed a fleet, and she's moving against one of the outer systems. If we don't stop her, she'll kill every man, woman and child in the system."
Luke's mind worked quickly. He hadn't expected it to be so soon. "How many ships in her fleet? How much armament?"
"Three—no, four star-cruisers, a star destroyer, and a full crew complement for each ship. She plans to take over the unprotected systems one by one until she accumulates enough power to move against the core systems." Briande drew herself away from the vision and looked at Luke urgently. "She'll want to make a demonstration of the first system, to show what will happen to any who stand in her way. We have to stop her."
"Which system?"
Briande closed her eyes briefly, asking the question through her Force-sense, then reopened here eyes to look at. him. "The Panderaan system, Deraan Two. She's already on her way there."
Luke reached for his clothes. "So are we." Then there was a momentary flash of recognition, Panderaan? Deraan Two?
Wasn't that where Leia and Han were planning to go after their wedding?
.
.
.
While Luke warmed the ship, Briande made other preparations. Luke nodded approvingly when Briande emerged from the jungle-forest dressed in the olive-green uniform she had worn when they first met. To anyone who didn't know better, she looked exactly like Colonel Brenna Brellis. It was possible that the resemblance would work for them this time, instead of against them.
Briande was about to climb into the cockpit, but Luke put out a restraining hand. "There's something you have to do first," he said. "It will only take a minute."
Briande didn't understand what he meant at first, until he reached into his pocket and took out the kinoll. It was nearly full grown, now-old enough to survive on its own. The tiny animal had become a symbol of Briande's own growth. Just as it would now have to face the world and its dangers using its own skills and instincts, Briande would have to face the trial of meeting her sister.
All these thoughts were running through Briande's mind as she took the kinoll from Luke and knelt to set it free. It scurried to the edge of the undergrowth, stopped, looked back at them once with curious, uncomprehending eyes, then disappeared among the vines and brush that covered the jungle floor.
The almost-Jedi glanced at her teacher, then boarded the small fighter. A moment later, Luke climbed in as well, and they left Dagobah's vaporish atmosphere.
Briande looked over Luke's shoulder as he punched in the coordinates for the hyperspace computer, and frowned. "That's not Deraan Two."
Skywalker leaned back and grinned. "I don't know about you, but I don't intend to take on four cruisers and a star-destroyer without at least a little help." He turned back to his instruments and locked the numbers in.
He just hoped he was right about Wedge...
.
.
.
Wedge inspected the circuits carefully. Ever since the night Brenna Brellis had escaped, he had become paranoid about them. Repeated checks showed them to be in perfect operating condition, and yet someone had broken in, released a Class-A prisoner, and then broken out again without a peep of warning from these same circuits. And by all available evidence, that 'someone' had been Luke Skywalker. His friend. But how Luke could have done it, Wedge couldn't say. And more importantly, why Luke had done it was even more of a mystery.
The door opened, and an aide came running in. She skidded to a halt and saluted Wedge urgently.
"What is it?" Wedge asked, keeping his attention on the board.
"It's a ship, sir. Incoming. The pilot refuses to follow landing orders and wants to speak to you personally."
"Can't you see I'm busy? Tell the pilot to get lost, land, or prepare himself to get shot down."
"We did, sir. But he insists on speaking to you. Says it's urgent, priority Alpha. Gave the code signals and everything."
Wedge frowned and turned, forgetting the board. "He knew the code signals?"
The aide nodded. "Says his name is Skywalker. Computer voice-print confirms."
"Luke?" Wedge was already on his way out the door, all thoughts of checking the circuits forgotten. The aide had to run to catch up with him.
"Isn't he the one who clobbered you, sir?"
Wedge ignored the question. "Where can I take it?"
"Right in here, sir. I had 'em patch it through for you."
Antilles nodded his thanks and picked up the headset. He didn't even bother putting it on properly, but just held it to his ear. "Luke?"
"Wedge!" Was it his imagination, or was there a note of relief in Luke's voice. "Wedge, I need your help!"
"Listen, Luke, I know you're in a lot of trouble. I'll do what I can to help, but I think the best thing right now would be for you to land and turn yourself in."
"There's no time for that," Luke interrupted. "This is urgent. Brenna Brellis is attacking the Deraan Two system. I need you to gather enough firepower to take out four star-cruisers and a star-destroyer, and follow me there."
"Brenna Brellis? You're the one who released her."
"No, I didn't. It was a case of mistaken identity. We had the wrong person. I have her sister up here with me now. Trust me on this, Wedge. Please. Deraan Two is in danger!" There was an audible click and then silence from the other end.
"Luke? Luke?"
"He's veered away, sir, heading out of the system."
"Damn." Wedge put the headset down, then picked it up again, and settled it over his head properly. "Get me Admiral Ackbaar."
"Sir? You don't really believe him, do you?"
"Do it!"
Luke awoke when Briande stirred in his arms. There had been no unconscious mind-link this time. Ever since the dream-vision returned, she’d resisted the more intimate link, and he’d let it be.
Now she sat up straight, staring into the distance at something which only she could see.
"What is it?" Luke asked softly.
She answered slowly, from far away. "It's time. Brenna has massed a fleet, and she's moving against one of the outer systems. If we don't stop her, she'll kill every man, woman and child in the system."
Luke's mind worked quickly. He hadn't expected it to be so soon. "How many ships in her fleet? How much armament?"
"Three—no, four star-cruisers, a star destroyer, and a full crew complement for each ship. She plans to take over the unprotected systems one by one until she accumulates enough power to move against the core systems." Briande drew herself away from the vision and looked at Luke urgently. "She'll want to make a demonstration of the first system, to show what will happen to any who stand in her way. We have to stop her."
"Which system?"
Briande closed her eyes briefly, asking the question through her Force-sense, then reopened here eyes to look at. him. "The Panderaan system, Deraan Two. She's already on her way there."
Luke reached for his clothes. "So are we." Then there was a momentary flash of recognition, Panderaan? Deraan Two?
Wasn't that where Leia and Han were planning to go after their wedding?
.
.
.
While Luke warmed the ship, Briande made other preparations. Luke nodded approvingly when Briande emerged from the jungle-forest dressed in the olive-green uniform she had worn when they first met. To anyone who didn't know better, she looked exactly like Colonel Brenna Brellis. It was possible that the resemblance would work for them this time, instead of against them.
Briande was about to climb into the cockpit, but Luke put out a restraining hand. "There's something you have to do first," he said. "It will only take a minute."
Briande didn't understand what he meant at first, until he reached into his pocket and took out the kinoll. It was nearly full grown, now-old enough to survive on its own. The tiny animal had become a symbol of Briande's own growth. Just as it would now have to face the world and its dangers using its own skills and instincts, Briande would have to face the trial of meeting her sister.
All these thoughts were running through Briande's mind as she took the kinoll from Luke and knelt to set it free. It scurried to the edge of the undergrowth, stopped, looked back at them once with curious, uncomprehending eyes, then disappeared among the vines and brush that covered the jungle floor.
The almost-Jedi glanced at her teacher, then boarded the small fighter. A moment later, Luke climbed in as well, and they left Dagobah's vaporish atmosphere.
Briande looked over Luke's shoulder as he punched in the coordinates for the hyperspace computer, and frowned. "That's not Deraan Two."
Skywalker leaned back and grinned. "I don't know about you, but I don't intend to take on four cruisers and a star-destroyer without at least a little help." He turned back to his instruments and locked the numbers in.
He just hoped he was right about Wedge...
.
.
.
Wedge inspected the circuits carefully. Ever since the night Brenna Brellis had escaped, he had become paranoid about them. Repeated checks showed them to be in perfect operating condition, and yet someone had broken in, released a Class-A prisoner, and then broken out again without a peep of warning from these same circuits. And by all available evidence, that 'someone' had been Luke Skywalker. His friend. But how Luke could have done it, Wedge couldn't say. And more importantly, why Luke had done it was even more of a mystery.
The door opened, and an aide came running in. She skidded to a halt and saluted Wedge urgently.
"What is it?" Wedge asked, keeping his attention on the board.
"It's a ship, sir. Incoming. The pilot refuses to follow landing orders and wants to speak to you personally."
"Can't you see I'm busy? Tell the pilot to get lost, land, or prepare himself to get shot down."
"We did, sir. But he insists on speaking to you. Says it's urgent, priority Alpha. Gave the code signals and everything."
Wedge frowned and turned, forgetting the board. "He knew the code signals?"
The aide nodded. "Says his name is Skywalker. Computer voice-print confirms."
"Luke?" Wedge was already on his way out the door, all thoughts of checking the circuits forgotten. The aide had to run to catch up with him.
"Isn't he the one who clobbered you, sir?"
Wedge ignored the question. "Where can I take it?"
"Right in here, sir. I had 'em patch it through for you."
Antilles nodded his thanks and picked up the headset. He didn't even bother putting it on properly, but just held it to his ear. "Luke?"
"Wedge!" Was it his imagination, or was there a note of relief in Luke's voice. "Wedge, I need your help!"
"Listen, Luke, I know you're in a lot of trouble. I'll do what I can to help, but I think the best thing right now would be for you to land and turn yourself in."
"There's no time for that," Luke interrupted. "This is urgent. Brenna Brellis is attacking the Deraan Two system. I need you to gather enough firepower to take out four star-cruisers and a star-destroyer, and follow me there."
"Brenna Brellis? You're the one who released her."
"No, I didn't. It was a case of mistaken identity. We had the wrong person. I have her sister up here with me now. Trust me on this, Wedge. Please. Deraan Two is in danger!" There was an audible click and then silence from the other end.
"Luke? Luke?"
"He's veered away, sir, heading out of the system."
"Damn." Wedge put the headset down, then picked it up again, and settled it over his head properly. "Get me Admiral Ackbaar."
"Sir? You don't really believe him, do you?"
"Do it!"
-----
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Leia stirred first, not quite sure what had wakened her. She snuggled against Han, made a comfortable murmured noise, and started to drift back to sleep. Han half-woke at her stir, and slid a hand around her waist. It was their last night—or was it morning now?—together for a while, and they weren't in a hurry to end it.
Then she felt it again, an odd vibration, and this time, they both came fully awake. “What was that?” Han asked.
“I don’t know. A malfunction?”
Han threw the blankets off and started pulling on his clothes. “Not on the Falcon. You better get dressed fast. Something’s not right.”
Han zipped his pants, slapped on the broadcast screen and the intercom in the same motion. “Chewie, wake up. Start warming the Falcon! I think we’re under attack.”
Leia was incredulous. “What, here?”
“That’s what it feels like,” Han said and reached for his shirt.
The broadcast was still regular programming, but by the time Han had his boots pulled on, there was an emergency interruption. The news reporter had an incredulous look on her face. “Imperial forces are attacking Deraan Two,” she said. “Everyone should get underground immediately. Repeat, all above-ground citizens should get below-ground immediately. Report to your emergency evacuation facility. Emergency evacuation procedures are in effect. Repeat, emergency evacuation procedures are in effect.”
“’Imperial forces’?” Leia echoed, throwing the top of her pants suit from the day before on over her head. “But that’s…impossible.”
“We both know there are Imperial ships unaccounted for. It’s not impossible.” He left her in the cabin and went to the cockpit. Chewbacca was already there, running through the pre-flight. Han put on his head-piece and contacted flight control.
Leia looked out the window at the closed bay doors. “We can’t go anywhere,” she pointed out. “Han, the procedure is to wait until all available ships have a full complement of evacuees before they risk opening the doors and—“
Han waved her silent and continued talking to someone in flight control, then turned to face her. “They count four star-cruisers and a destroyer. Even I can’t take on that much firepower. The plan is to take on as many passengers as we can, and make a run for it. Once we jump to lightspeed, they won’t be able to follow us.” He turned to his co-pilot. “Chewie, we need to get rid of all the dead-weight we can. Furniture, clothes, entertainments—anything not vital to the functioning of the ship, except weaponry. We may need that. Strip her bare. Got that?”
Chewbacca woofed and nodded. Han turned back to his wife. “Leia, you help him. Put on a headset. I’m going to stay here and find out everything I can about what’s going on.” He gave her his lopsided grin. “Sweetheart, this ‘vacation’ you took me on—next time I pick our destination.”
Leia stirred first, not quite sure what had wakened her. She snuggled against Han, made a comfortable murmured noise, and started to drift back to sleep. Han half-woke at her stir, and slid a hand around her waist. It was their last night—or was it morning now?—together for a while, and they weren't in a hurry to end it.
Then she felt it again, an odd vibration, and this time, they both came fully awake. “What was that?” Han asked.
“I don’t know. A malfunction?”
Han threw the blankets off and started pulling on his clothes. “Not on the Falcon. You better get dressed fast. Something’s not right.”
Han zipped his pants, slapped on the broadcast screen and the intercom in the same motion. “Chewie, wake up. Start warming the Falcon! I think we’re under attack.”
Leia was incredulous. “What, here?”
“That’s what it feels like,” Han said and reached for his shirt.
The broadcast was still regular programming, but by the time Han had his boots pulled on, there was an emergency interruption. The news reporter had an incredulous look on her face. “Imperial forces are attacking Deraan Two,” she said. “Everyone should get underground immediately. Repeat, all above-ground citizens should get below-ground immediately. Report to your emergency evacuation facility. Emergency evacuation procedures are in effect. Repeat, emergency evacuation procedures are in effect.”
“’Imperial forces’?” Leia echoed, throwing the top of her pants suit from the day before on over her head. “But that’s…impossible.”
“We both know there are Imperial ships unaccounted for. It’s not impossible.” He left her in the cabin and went to the cockpit. Chewbacca was already there, running through the pre-flight. Han put on his head-piece and contacted flight control.
Leia looked out the window at the closed bay doors. “We can’t go anywhere,” she pointed out. “Han, the procedure is to wait until all available ships have a full complement of evacuees before they risk opening the doors and—“
Han waved her silent and continued talking to someone in flight control, then turned to face her. “They count four star-cruisers and a destroyer. Even I can’t take on that much firepower. The plan is to take on as many passengers as we can, and make a run for it. Once we jump to lightspeed, they won’t be able to follow us.” He turned to his co-pilot. “Chewie, we need to get rid of all the dead-weight we can. Furniture, clothes, entertainments—anything not vital to the functioning of the ship, except weaponry. We may need that. Strip her bare. Got that?”
Chewbacca woofed and nodded. Han turned back to his wife. “Leia, you help him. Put on a headset. I’m going to stay here and find out everything I can about what’s going on.” He gave her his lopsided grin. “Sweetheart, this ‘vacation’ you took me on—next time I pick our destination.”
-----
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Luke landed his small fighter without incident, sneaking past the cruisers and star-destroyer with almost comic ease. Either the ships were too busy providing aerial bombing and preventing anyone from leaving Deraan Two that they simply didn't notice a small snub-fighter approaching on landing cycle, or...Luke and Briande were expected.
Somehow, they managed to land in a relatively quiet area. The sounds of explosions were, at the moment, too far away to be an immediate danger, but the sounds drew nearer with every passing second.
Luke surmised that they were, at least temporarily, in the "eye of the hurricane"—a term used in battle to denote the line of demarcation between one side's retreat, and the other's advance.
They found an opening to below-ground without any trouble. Apparently, in the panic that ensued from the initial barrage, the citizens had left the entrance open and unguarded. Or—maybe not unguarded. There was evidence of an explosion nearby, and Luke caught a glimpse of an arm protruding from underneath a large, heavy rock. He wondered if Briande had seen it, but didn’t point it out.
As they followed the stairs to the lower levels, Luke had to remind himself of the urgency of their mission and the number of lives still at stake. The walls of the cavern were so breathtakingly beautiful that he felt an urge to stop and admire them. Right now, though, he had to concentrate on preserving the walls—and more importantly, the people within them.
As they descended into the cavern proper, Luke stopped to get his bearings. The underground room they were in was huge. It stretched as far as he could see. Somehow the lighting in here had managed to continue operating, and the colors of the mineral deposits showing through the walls were nothing short of dazzling. Huge stalagmite formations in the ceiling loomed over them like daggers, and some of them joined with stalactites from the floors to make pillars that were bigger around than the trees Luke had seen on Endor. But some of the natural sculptures had been broken and were now nothing more than debris lying on the floor.
Fortunately, except for the one at the entrance, there were no bodies visible. Apparently the Panderaans believed in taking their wounded and dead with them.
The tunnel branched right and left. Luke paused to do a quick Force-search, and then opened his eyes in surprise. Leia was up ahead, to the right. He tried to touch her through the Force, but her mind was preoccupied, and she was not expecting him.
"This way," Luke said, reaching for Briande's hand and pulling to the right.
"No." She put her hand in his, but resisted his pull. She looked at him, eyes full of meaning and regret. "Brenna is waiting for me."
Luke's heart leapt to his throat even though he had known, deep down, that this would happen. Just as the cave had to be faced alone, so did a Jedi's ultimate test. "I have to...uh..." He indicated the right-hand corridor with a slight wave of his hand.
"I know."
"I'll join you as soon as I can."
"I love you, Luke."
"I love you, too."
There was no time for any more words, or even for a final kiss. They separated, knowing each what they had to do, and understanding without words anyway.
Luke quickly made his way through the rubble and debris, knowing where he was going, but without having the faintest idea of what he was going to do when he got there. Leia was here. But she wasn't answering his telepathic call. Her mind was occupied, and she...just didn't hear him.
The Force was pulling Luke towards Leia, and other survivors of the attack, but gave him no clue beyond that. Luke realized that Jedi though he might be, he was still only one man against an army.
.
.
.
Briande pressed herself into a newly formed crack in the wall of the cavern and waited for the squad of stormtroopers to pass by. If she were seen now, her disguise would be totally useless, since commanding personnel of her sister's rank would never be on the front lines. She sent Luke a brief warning, to let him know how far behind the soldiers were, then tried to blend into the narrow crevice physically and otherwise.
There was the fresh smell of dust and debris around her as one of the troopers seemed to look her way. Briande concentrated, and he gave his head a slight shake, then continued onward with the others. She, like Luke, had a small degree of telepathic ability, and he had helped her to strengthen it to the point where it might be of some use.
It seemed ironic to Briande that her hiding place was formed by the explosions of Imperial bombs. There was, it seemed, a bright side to everything...
.
.
.
The underground corridors were wide, amazingly wide. Luke wouldn't have thought it possible for a city this wide to exist underground. Then again, Bespin had been a huge surprise, too.
But the wide corridors presented a problem.
Luke could feel through the Force which way to go, the same way the majority of people had evacuated, but the caverns were too wide to effectively slow Imperial foot troops. Somehow, he knew that this would be the route they would take. Once the ground force arrived, The Panderaan's would be easy prey.
He reached another cavernous room, this one formed by the meeting of two large underground rivers millions of millennia ago. Something told Luke to look up. He looked up, and saw large round dimples in the ceiling, formed by the natural swirlings of the rivers when they joined. Then he spotted a crack in the ceiling, with falling dust indicating that one of the Imperial bombs had caused it.
Luke reached out through the Force to study the crack. An explosion at just the right point could trigger a cave-in…
But he wouldn't be able to do it alone. Maybe with Leia's help…
He tried again to reach her, but she was still closed off to him telepathically. He suppressed his frustration and worked the problem. If she knew he was trying to reach her, she'd be much more receptive. And one man could move much faster than an army, especially if that one man had a little extra help from the Force.
Luke continued off in the direction he needed to go. He couldn't do this alone, and Leia was the only one who could help.
.
.
.
The site around the Falcon was littered with furniture from the cabins, most of it now ruined from being tossed aside like so much garbage. Han and Chewbacca moved down the gangplank carrying Han's prized expensive entertainment center and dumped it with the rest of the deadweight. Leia, meanwhile, was trying to hold back the large number of people who were pressing closer and closer to the gangplank. "Please keep back!" she was saying. "We'll take as many of you as we can!"
"Leia!" Han yelled.
She turned at the sound of her name over the din. "What?"
"Keep those people away from the ship!"
"I'm trying!"
Han yelled something to Chewbacca, and the surge backed away slightly as the large Wookiee joined her, waving his bowcaster threateningly.
Leia breathed a sigh and went to help Han in Chewbacca's stead, but he waved her off. "That's all of it. Start loading people into the cargo holds. I'll tell you when to slow." He went into the cockpit to contact flight control and keep an eye on the weight monitors.
Leia went back to the crowd. "Children!" she said. "We'll take the children first!"
Amazingly, most of the lone adults melted back, and others pushed their children toward the Falcon. Most of the younger ones were crying. A few sucked their thumbs. Leia pointed to a couple of the older kids who seemed less dazed. "You and you! Help me get them inside!" The two older kids received brief hugs from their parents and then grabbed some of the younger kids and followed Leia, who by now had a toddler in each hand, inside to the cargo holds. They deposited the crying youngsters into the holds, and unexpectedly followed Leia back outside to help usher in more of the younger children.
Leia shot them a grateful look, and recruited some more of the older kids to help with the younger ones.
.
.
.
Eventually, Luke came to where the corridors were blocked with people. He could sense their fear, but he couldn't do anything about it if he couldn't get to Leia.
The nudge in the Force told him to look up again, and this time, he saw the network of pipes that carried fresh air, water, sewage, and other services to the various underground destinations. He smiled to himself, assisted his jump with some Force-levitation, and grabbed one of them.
Like a kid on monkey bars, he swung from hand-to-hand over the heads of the people trying to evacuate, continuing to make his way toward Leia.
.
.
.
Han kept his eyes on the weight monitors. He used the com-link to count down the poundage to Leia.
Leia, for her part, was grateful to the older kids for helping her manage the loading of the younger kids, and concentrated, with Chewbacca, on trying to manage the push of people trying to get themselves or their children to the front of the line.
Suddenly there was a tug on Leia's dress, and she turned and gasped at the gruesome face that met her eyes. A figure, bloodied and recently burned and barely recognizable as belonging to a woman returned her gaze. For a brief second, Leia thought the injured woman meant to grab her again, or ask for medical attention, or something, but she just thrust a bundle out to Leia, then melted back into the crowd.
Leia looked at the baby she had just been given. The infant was only a few weeks old at most, its cry of complaint barely audible over the din of the crowd and its beautiful, perfect features were in stark contrast to those of the woman who had given it to Leia. The woman must have protected the child from whatever it was that had so disfigured her. Leia looked back up for the baby's mother, but the woman was gone.
Han's weight numbers were in the triple quadruple digits now. "That's it, Leia!" he shouted into the com-link. "Get on-board now!"
Leia went to the gangplank, motioning to her young helpers to join her.
"Damn!" Han said, watching the numbers climb to more than what the Falcon could handle. He left the cockpit for the main cabin to look for something else, anything else, that could be jettisoned in a hurry. He couldn't find anything. "We're overweight!"
One of the older kids who heard him squeezed Leia's arm and said quietly, "Take care of my little sister," and went down the gangplank.
"Leia!" The shout came from above her, and Leia and most of the people hoping for evacuation looked up at the source of the sound.
Leia was incredulous. "Luke!"
Luke let go of the pipes and dropped down next to her. "I've alerted the Alliance to the attack. They should be here soon. At least I hope they will be. And I think with your help, I can slow the ground troops from getting here, stall for time until the Alliance ships arrive."
"How can I help?"
"I need you on the Falcon. Use her weapons to hit a weak spot in one of the caverns. If we can cause a cave-in, that should do the trick."
Leia sighed. "The ship's overweight. Han might not be able to take off. And I can't tell one of those kids they have to leave."
Luke put his hands on her shoulders. "It'll be okay. If this works, it will save everyone in here. But this won't work if you're not onboard."
"What do I need to do?"
He smiled. "It'll be just like Bespin. Remember when you found me before? Relax, keep your mind open, and once you have the target, tell Han to shoot everything he can at it."
"Okay."
Luke kissed her on the cheek, then jumped/levitated back up to the pipes to work his way back the way he had come. Now he needed to be back on the other side of the cavern before it collapsed.
Leia watched him swing from pipe to pipe in amazement, but only for a second, because Han came down the gangplank, grabbed her by the arm, and tried to haul her back up inside the ship.
"New plan," Leia told him.
"What new plan?" Han wanted to know.
Leia pointed to Luke's disappearing figure. "It's Luke."
"Luke?" Han said in disbelief. "Luke's here?"
"He has a plan."
Her brother stopped swinging then, and gave a salute, and she nodded as if responding to some unspoken message. Then she turned to her husband. "The Alliance is on its way. All we have to do is stall."
"Stall, how?"
She smiled at him. "We're going to attack, of course." She pulled her arm away from Han and addressed the crowd, many of whom were watching Luke's passage overhead. "Help is on the way! There is a Jedi Knight here already, and you're safer here than on the ships! We'll return your children to you as quickly as we can, but we may have to leave in a hurry! Please stay back away from the ship!" Leia turned to Han. "Can you tell ground control to stop loading the ships, and find someone who can give us some cover fire?"
Han stared at her, then looked at the pile of broken furniture and non-critical pieces of the Falcon and said, "You mean to tell me I did all that for nothing?"
Luke landed his small fighter without incident, sneaking past the cruisers and star-destroyer with almost comic ease. Either the ships were too busy providing aerial bombing and preventing anyone from leaving Deraan Two that they simply didn't notice a small snub-fighter approaching on landing cycle, or...Luke and Briande were expected.
Somehow, they managed to land in a relatively quiet area. The sounds of explosions were, at the moment, too far away to be an immediate danger, but the sounds drew nearer with every passing second.
Luke surmised that they were, at least temporarily, in the "eye of the hurricane"—a term used in battle to denote the line of demarcation between one side's retreat, and the other's advance.
They found an opening to below-ground without any trouble. Apparently, in the panic that ensued from the initial barrage, the citizens had left the entrance open and unguarded. Or—maybe not unguarded. There was evidence of an explosion nearby, and Luke caught a glimpse of an arm protruding from underneath a large, heavy rock. He wondered if Briande had seen it, but didn’t point it out.
As they followed the stairs to the lower levels, Luke had to remind himself of the urgency of their mission and the number of lives still at stake. The walls of the cavern were so breathtakingly beautiful that he felt an urge to stop and admire them. Right now, though, he had to concentrate on preserving the walls—and more importantly, the people within them.
As they descended into the cavern proper, Luke stopped to get his bearings. The underground room they were in was huge. It stretched as far as he could see. Somehow the lighting in here had managed to continue operating, and the colors of the mineral deposits showing through the walls were nothing short of dazzling. Huge stalagmite formations in the ceiling loomed over them like daggers, and some of them joined with stalactites from the floors to make pillars that were bigger around than the trees Luke had seen on Endor. But some of the natural sculptures had been broken and were now nothing more than debris lying on the floor.
Fortunately, except for the one at the entrance, there were no bodies visible. Apparently the Panderaans believed in taking their wounded and dead with them.
The tunnel branched right and left. Luke paused to do a quick Force-search, and then opened his eyes in surprise. Leia was up ahead, to the right. He tried to touch her through the Force, but her mind was preoccupied, and she was not expecting him.
"This way," Luke said, reaching for Briande's hand and pulling to the right.
"No." She put her hand in his, but resisted his pull. She looked at him, eyes full of meaning and regret. "Brenna is waiting for me."
Luke's heart leapt to his throat even though he had known, deep down, that this would happen. Just as the cave had to be faced alone, so did a Jedi's ultimate test. "I have to...uh..." He indicated the right-hand corridor with a slight wave of his hand.
"I know."
"I'll join you as soon as I can."
"I love you, Luke."
"I love you, too."
There was no time for any more words, or even for a final kiss. They separated, knowing each what they had to do, and understanding without words anyway.
Luke quickly made his way through the rubble and debris, knowing where he was going, but without having the faintest idea of what he was going to do when he got there. Leia was here. But she wasn't answering his telepathic call. Her mind was occupied, and she...just didn't hear him.
The Force was pulling Luke towards Leia, and other survivors of the attack, but gave him no clue beyond that. Luke realized that Jedi though he might be, he was still only one man against an army.
.
.
.
Briande pressed herself into a newly formed crack in the wall of the cavern and waited for the squad of stormtroopers to pass by. If she were seen now, her disguise would be totally useless, since commanding personnel of her sister's rank would never be on the front lines. She sent Luke a brief warning, to let him know how far behind the soldiers were, then tried to blend into the narrow crevice physically and otherwise.
There was the fresh smell of dust and debris around her as one of the troopers seemed to look her way. Briande concentrated, and he gave his head a slight shake, then continued onward with the others. She, like Luke, had a small degree of telepathic ability, and he had helped her to strengthen it to the point where it might be of some use.
It seemed ironic to Briande that her hiding place was formed by the explosions of Imperial bombs. There was, it seemed, a bright side to everything...
.
.
.
The underground corridors were wide, amazingly wide. Luke wouldn't have thought it possible for a city this wide to exist underground. Then again, Bespin had been a huge surprise, too.
But the wide corridors presented a problem.
Luke could feel through the Force which way to go, the same way the majority of people had evacuated, but the caverns were too wide to effectively slow Imperial foot troops. Somehow, he knew that this would be the route they would take. Once the ground force arrived, The Panderaan's would be easy prey.
He reached another cavernous room, this one formed by the meeting of two large underground rivers millions of millennia ago. Something told Luke to look up. He looked up, and saw large round dimples in the ceiling, formed by the natural swirlings of the rivers when they joined. Then he spotted a crack in the ceiling, with falling dust indicating that one of the Imperial bombs had caused it.
Luke reached out through the Force to study the crack. An explosion at just the right point could trigger a cave-in…
But he wouldn't be able to do it alone. Maybe with Leia's help…
He tried again to reach her, but she was still closed off to him telepathically. He suppressed his frustration and worked the problem. If she knew he was trying to reach her, she'd be much more receptive. And one man could move much faster than an army, especially if that one man had a little extra help from the Force.
Luke continued off in the direction he needed to go. He couldn't do this alone, and Leia was the only one who could help.
.
.
.
The site around the Falcon was littered with furniture from the cabins, most of it now ruined from being tossed aside like so much garbage. Han and Chewbacca moved down the gangplank carrying Han's prized expensive entertainment center and dumped it with the rest of the deadweight. Leia, meanwhile, was trying to hold back the large number of people who were pressing closer and closer to the gangplank. "Please keep back!" she was saying. "We'll take as many of you as we can!"
"Leia!" Han yelled.
She turned at the sound of her name over the din. "What?"
"Keep those people away from the ship!"
"I'm trying!"
Han yelled something to Chewbacca, and the surge backed away slightly as the large Wookiee joined her, waving his bowcaster threateningly.
Leia breathed a sigh and went to help Han in Chewbacca's stead, but he waved her off. "That's all of it. Start loading people into the cargo holds. I'll tell you when to slow." He went into the cockpit to contact flight control and keep an eye on the weight monitors.
Leia went back to the crowd. "Children!" she said. "We'll take the children first!"
Amazingly, most of the lone adults melted back, and others pushed their children toward the Falcon. Most of the younger ones were crying. A few sucked their thumbs. Leia pointed to a couple of the older kids who seemed less dazed. "You and you! Help me get them inside!" The two older kids received brief hugs from their parents and then grabbed some of the younger kids and followed Leia, who by now had a toddler in each hand, inside to the cargo holds. They deposited the crying youngsters into the holds, and unexpectedly followed Leia back outside to help usher in more of the younger children.
Leia shot them a grateful look, and recruited some more of the older kids to help with the younger ones.
.
.
.
Eventually, Luke came to where the corridors were blocked with people. He could sense their fear, but he couldn't do anything about it if he couldn't get to Leia.
The nudge in the Force told him to look up again, and this time, he saw the network of pipes that carried fresh air, water, sewage, and other services to the various underground destinations. He smiled to himself, assisted his jump with some Force-levitation, and grabbed one of them.
Like a kid on monkey bars, he swung from hand-to-hand over the heads of the people trying to evacuate, continuing to make his way toward Leia.
.
.
.
Han kept his eyes on the weight monitors. He used the com-link to count down the poundage to Leia.
Leia, for her part, was grateful to the older kids for helping her manage the loading of the younger kids, and concentrated, with Chewbacca, on trying to manage the push of people trying to get themselves or their children to the front of the line.
Suddenly there was a tug on Leia's dress, and she turned and gasped at the gruesome face that met her eyes. A figure, bloodied and recently burned and barely recognizable as belonging to a woman returned her gaze. For a brief second, Leia thought the injured woman meant to grab her again, or ask for medical attention, or something, but she just thrust a bundle out to Leia, then melted back into the crowd.
Leia looked at the baby she had just been given. The infant was only a few weeks old at most, its cry of complaint barely audible over the din of the crowd and its beautiful, perfect features were in stark contrast to those of the woman who had given it to Leia. The woman must have protected the child from whatever it was that had so disfigured her. Leia looked back up for the baby's mother, but the woman was gone.
Han's weight numbers were in the triple quadruple digits now. "That's it, Leia!" he shouted into the com-link. "Get on-board now!"
Leia went to the gangplank, motioning to her young helpers to join her.
"Damn!" Han said, watching the numbers climb to more than what the Falcon could handle. He left the cockpit for the main cabin to look for something else, anything else, that could be jettisoned in a hurry. He couldn't find anything. "We're overweight!"
One of the older kids who heard him squeezed Leia's arm and said quietly, "Take care of my little sister," and went down the gangplank.
"Leia!" The shout came from above her, and Leia and most of the people hoping for evacuation looked up at the source of the sound.
Leia was incredulous. "Luke!"
Luke let go of the pipes and dropped down next to her. "I've alerted the Alliance to the attack. They should be here soon. At least I hope they will be. And I think with your help, I can slow the ground troops from getting here, stall for time until the Alliance ships arrive."
"How can I help?"
"I need you on the Falcon. Use her weapons to hit a weak spot in one of the caverns. If we can cause a cave-in, that should do the trick."
Leia sighed. "The ship's overweight. Han might not be able to take off. And I can't tell one of those kids they have to leave."
Luke put his hands on her shoulders. "It'll be okay. If this works, it will save everyone in here. But this won't work if you're not onboard."
"What do I need to do?"
He smiled. "It'll be just like Bespin. Remember when you found me before? Relax, keep your mind open, and once you have the target, tell Han to shoot everything he can at it."
"Okay."
Luke kissed her on the cheek, then jumped/levitated back up to the pipes to work his way back the way he had come. Now he needed to be back on the other side of the cavern before it collapsed.
Leia watched him swing from pipe to pipe in amazement, but only for a second, because Han came down the gangplank, grabbed her by the arm, and tried to haul her back up inside the ship.
"New plan," Leia told him.
"What new plan?" Han wanted to know.
Leia pointed to Luke's disappearing figure. "It's Luke."
"Luke?" Han said in disbelief. "Luke's here?"
"He has a plan."
Her brother stopped swinging then, and gave a salute, and she nodded as if responding to some unspoken message. Then she turned to her husband. "The Alliance is on its way. All we have to do is stall."
"Stall, how?"
She smiled at him. "We're going to attack, of course." She pulled her arm away from Han and addressed the crowd, many of whom were watching Luke's passage overhead. "Help is on the way! There is a Jedi Knight here already, and you're safer here than on the ships! We'll return your children to you as quickly as we can, but we may have to leave in a hurry! Please stay back away from the ship!" Leia turned to Han. "Can you tell ground control to stop loading the ships, and find someone who can give us some cover fire?"
Han stared at her, then looked at the pile of broken furniture and non-critical pieces of the Falcon and said, "You mean to tell me I did all that for nothing?"
-----
Chapter Thirty
Colonel Brenna Brellis called Commander Holmi to her. The green-scaled hominoid was one of the few non-humans to achieve any level of rank in the Imperial army, and the Dark Lady kept him under her command as a sort of curiosity.
"Yesss, Colonel?" Holmi hissed.
"Do you think you could manage to complete the attack without me?"
Holmi blinked in surprise. Was she turning command over to him? "I shall do my besssst," he replied.
The Dark Lady spoke briefly into her com-link, then handed it to him. "It's all yours—except for my own flag-ship, of course. They have their own orders. And Holmi?"
"Yessss?"
"Do not fail me. You know what will happen if you do?"
Holmi blinked. "I undersssstand," he said.
"Good. I'll be in the large chamber I admired so much earlier. Oh, and if the stormtroopers should happen to run into a man in a Jedi-costume, instruct them that he is to be killed at once."
Holmi blinked again. "There isss Jedi here?"
"Only the one. Surely an entire legion can deal with the powers of a single Jedi. He is, after all, still just a man."
Holmi nodded. "Assss you sssay."
"Don't disturb me unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm expecting a visitor."
.
.
.
Like Luke, Briande had discovered the pipes as a convenient mode of travel past the Imperials, but not being a telekin, Briande had to wait until she could find a place to climb up. The cavern walls were smooth and wet and difficult to climb, but she had done a lot of rock-climbing on her home planet of Kalmyr, and 'difficult' was not the same as 'impossible.'
Once she reached the level of the pipes, a few simple gymnastics got her to her feet, and if walking across the narrow pipes like a tight-rope walker was difficult, again, it wasn't impossible.
She had to hide twice to escape the squads of stormtroopers passing underneath, and once, when there had been no place to hide, she merely dropped to the ground ahead of them walked past them, returning the salute of the commander leading them, without saying a word. She was far enough behind the front troops that her uniform was now useful.
She lowered her shield just enough to sense Brenna's presence just ahead, then slammed her shield back into place. Brenna already knew she was here. How much more Brenna knew, she didn't know.
Her sister was in the next chamber.
Briande waited until her sister was alone, then dropped silently behind Holmi after he passed beneath her, and went into the cavern room where Brenna was waiting.
Briande dropped her shield, and her twin turned to face her in mild surprise. "Well, well. I see you've improved your skills."
"I've come to talk with you, Bren."
"I'm not Brenna."
"Brenna is a part of you."
"A buried part, perhaps. But not the one in charge at the moment. Do you know who I am?"
Briande nodded. "You're Palpatine."
.
.
.
About two-thirds of the children had been off-loaded when Leia told Han it was time to go. Han had contacted ground-control, and it was only Leia's influence, the words "Jedi Knight," and the whispers of some of the older citizens who could still remember what that order was, that convinced the other evacuees to leave the Falcon alone and not to try to rush it in a mad bid for escape, and for ground-control to let the ship out of the bay to try Luke's plan.
Han would have preferred to get all of the children off his ship, and especially that baby that Leia was holding in her arms, but he understood that Luke had some sort of sixth sense, and he believed Leia when she said they had to move now!
Even so, it was a few more seconds before they could get the gangplank cleared and lifted, and the bay doors opened enough for them to slip out.
"Now what?" Han wanted to know?
Leia took one hand away from the infant to point to his screen. "Go there."
"I don't see anything there."
"Trust me," she said. "And stay low."
"If I stay any lower, Han muttered, "we'll crash into the surface." Nevertheless, he nudged his craft ever-so-slightly closer to the ground. He touched his com-link. "Ready on the guns, Chewie?"
Chewie woofed assent from the belly-turret.
Oddly, the infant in Leia's arms made no sound. Its dark eyes gazed up at Leia uncomprehendingly, but there was a certain expectancy about them. Leia had called for the baby's mother from the gangplank, but the badly injured woman had not reappeared.
"Now where?" Han wanted to know.
"I'm not sure. Wait."
The Corellian muttered an oath and set his ship in a holding pattern. Finally Leia pointed to a blast-crater, then touched the terrain read-out screen to mark it. "There!" she said. "Hit that crater with everything you've got!"
"Did you get that Chewie?" Han asked on his com-link.
For an answer, Chewie fired his cannons at the indicated target.
Han swiveled slightly. "We're going to attract an awful lot of attention doing this."
"I know. Get ready to run quickly."
"Got the jump coordinates loaded in. Just need to get clear, and then we're out of here." Han looked at his screen. "Hurry it up, Chewie, we got company! Imperial cruiser at two o'clock!"
Chewie sent a final barrage at the crater, which seemed to implode upon itself, then switched his target to the star-cruiser.
Han veered away from his position as the cruiser started to return fire. He took a hit aft, and from the hold, he could hear the frightened cries of some of the children they hadn't had time to unload. "Was that enough?" he asked Leia.
"Almost, not quite. A few more seconds might do it."
"We don't have a few more seconds!"
"It's not enough! Han, we have to go back!"
The next hit to port convinced Han that going back was not a good idea. Han remotely engaged his top guns. They weren't as accurate as they would have been with someone managing them directly, but it was better than nothing.
Suddenly a streak of light shot at the cruiser from a different direction than the Falcon, and for a split second, Han wondered if ground control had found someone to cover them after all. But then The Falcon's com-line blinked, and Han answered it.
"Millenium Falcon, you look like you could use some help."
Han recognized the voice. "Wedge! Is that you?"
"No one but." The X-wing fighter streaked by overhead, toward the cruiser.
Han re-adjusted his course and headed back for the blast crater. "Give me some cover-fire, will you? I'm trying to slow down ground-forces, and could sure use the assist."
"You got it, Falcon." And as Wedge open-fired on the cruiser, Han returned to the impact-crater that Leia had said was his target, and added a couple of proton torpedoes to the barrage Chewbacca was laying down.
.
.
.
Luke surveyed the damage with satisfaction. The rubble filled what had once been the large cavern. The ground force would be able cut through it eventually, of course, but it would take time. Enough time for Wedge and the others to drive off the Imperial fleet, he hoped. The Panderaans would have quite the mess to clean up later, but Luke figured it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.
Then he could hear the approaching ground troops moving towards him, and jump-levitated back up to the pipe network, this time swinging himself up to his feet to run in a crouch along the narrow slippery pipes the way Briande had done. He knew from experience that stormtrooper helmets were difficult to see through, and the route back to where the tunnels had branched and Luke and Briande had separated was full of twists and curves. Provided none of the stormtroopers looked up, Luke should be okay. Of course, there were the unhelmeted commanders to consider, but they would be easy to spot in the sea of stormtroopers, and Luke could either hide or arrange a distraction when he encountered one.
He contacted Briande through the Force to let her know that he was on his way. But as he did, he felt a familiar Cold, Dark Presence, and he stopped in surprise and horror.
Sweet Force, he hadn't sent Briande to face her sister alone.
He had sent her to meet Palpatine.
Alone!
"No!" Luke whispered. He broke into a dead run across the pipes, ignoring the protests of his already drained muscles, determined to reach Briande before Palpatine killed her.
Or worse.
Colonel Brenna Brellis called Commander Holmi to her. The green-scaled hominoid was one of the few non-humans to achieve any level of rank in the Imperial army, and the Dark Lady kept him under her command as a sort of curiosity.
"Yesss, Colonel?" Holmi hissed.
"Do you think you could manage to complete the attack without me?"
Holmi blinked in surprise. Was she turning command over to him? "I shall do my besssst," he replied.
The Dark Lady spoke briefly into her com-link, then handed it to him. "It's all yours—except for my own flag-ship, of course. They have their own orders. And Holmi?"
"Yessss?"
"Do not fail me. You know what will happen if you do?"
Holmi blinked. "I undersssstand," he said.
"Good. I'll be in the large chamber I admired so much earlier. Oh, and if the stormtroopers should happen to run into a man in a Jedi-costume, instruct them that he is to be killed at once."
Holmi blinked again. "There isss Jedi here?"
"Only the one. Surely an entire legion can deal with the powers of a single Jedi. He is, after all, still just a man."
Holmi nodded. "Assss you sssay."
"Don't disturb me unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm expecting a visitor."
.
.
.
Like Luke, Briande had discovered the pipes as a convenient mode of travel past the Imperials, but not being a telekin, Briande had to wait until she could find a place to climb up. The cavern walls were smooth and wet and difficult to climb, but she had done a lot of rock-climbing on her home planet of Kalmyr, and 'difficult' was not the same as 'impossible.'
Once she reached the level of the pipes, a few simple gymnastics got her to her feet, and if walking across the narrow pipes like a tight-rope walker was difficult, again, it wasn't impossible.
She had to hide twice to escape the squads of stormtroopers passing underneath, and once, when there had been no place to hide, she merely dropped to the ground ahead of them walked past them, returning the salute of the commander leading them, without saying a word. She was far enough behind the front troops that her uniform was now useful.
She lowered her shield just enough to sense Brenna's presence just ahead, then slammed her shield back into place. Brenna already knew she was here. How much more Brenna knew, she didn't know.
Her sister was in the next chamber.
Briande waited until her sister was alone, then dropped silently behind Holmi after he passed beneath her, and went into the cavern room where Brenna was waiting.
Briande dropped her shield, and her twin turned to face her in mild surprise. "Well, well. I see you've improved your skills."
"I've come to talk with you, Bren."
"I'm not Brenna."
"Brenna is a part of you."
"A buried part, perhaps. But not the one in charge at the moment. Do you know who I am?"
Briande nodded. "You're Palpatine."
.
.
.
About two-thirds of the children had been off-loaded when Leia told Han it was time to go. Han had contacted ground-control, and it was only Leia's influence, the words "Jedi Knight," and the whispers of some of the older citizens who could still remember what that order was, that convinced the other evacuees to leave the Falcon alone and not to try to rush it in a mad bid for escape, and for ground-control to let the ship out of the bay to try Luke's plan.
Han would have preferred to get all of the children off his ship, and especially that baby that Leia was holding in her arms, but he understood that Luke had some sort of sixth sense, and he believed Leia when she said they had to move now!
Even so, it was a few more seconds before they could get the gangplank cleared and lifted, and the bay doors opened enough for them to slip out.
"Now what?" Han wanted to know?
Leia took one hand away from the infant to point to his screen. "Go there."
"I don't see anything there."
"Trust me," she said. "And stay low."
"If I stay any lower, Han muttered, "we'll crash into the surface." Nevertheless, he nudged his craft ever-so-slightly closer to the ground. He touched his com-link. "Ready on the guns, Chewie?"
Chewie woofed assent from the belly-turret.
Oddly, the infant in Leia's arms made no sound. Its dark eyes gazed up at Leia uncomprehendingly, but there was a certain expectancy about them. Leia had called for the baby's mother from the gangplank, but the badly injured woman had not reappeared.
"Now where?" Han wanted to know.
"I'm not sure. Wait."
The Corellian muttered an oath and set his ship in a holding pattern. Finally Leia pointed to a blast-crater, then touched the terrain read-out screen to mark it. "There!" she said. "Hit that crater with everything you've got!"
"Did you get that Chewie?" Han asked on his com-link.
For an answer, Chewie fired his cannons at the indicated target.
Han swiveled slightly. "We're going to attract an awful lot of attention doing this."
"I know. Get ready to run quickly."
"Got the jump coordinates loaded in. Just need to get clear, and then we're out of here." Han looked at his screen. "Hurry it up, Chewie, we got company! Imperial cruiser at two o'clock!"
Chewie sent a final barrage at the crater, which seemed to implode upon itself, then switched his target to the star-cruiser.
Han veered away from his position as the cruiser started to return fire. He took a hit aft, and from the hold, he could hear the frightened cries of some of the children they hadn't had time to unload. "Was that enough?" he asked Leia.
"Almost, not quite. A few more seconds might do it."
"We don't have a few more seconds!"
"It's not enough! Han, we have to go back!"
The next hit to port convinced Han that going back was not a good idea. Han remotely engaged his top guns. They weren't as accurate as they would have been with someone managing them directly, but it was better than nothing.
Suddenly a streak of light shot at the cruiser from a different direction than the Falcon, and for a split second, Han wondered if ground control had found someone to cover them after all. But then The Falcon's com-line blinked, and Han answered it.
"Millenium Falcon, you look like you could use some help."
Han recognized the voice. "Wedge! Is that you?"
"No one but." The X-wing fighter streaked by overhead, toward the cruiser.
Han re-adjusted his course and headed back for the blast crater. "Give me some cover-fire, will you? I'm trying to slow down ground-forces, and could sure use the assist."
"You got it, Falcon." And as Wedge open-fired on the cruiser, Han returned to the impact-crater that Leia had said was his target, and added a couple of proton torpedoes to the barrage Chewbacca was laying down.
.
.
.
Luke surveyed the damage with satisfaction. The rubble filled what had once been the large cavern. The ground force would be able cut through it eventually, of course, but it would take time. Enough time for Wedge and the others to drive off the Imperial fleet, he hoped. The Panderaans would have quite the mess to clean up later, but Luke figured it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.
Then he could hear the approaching ground troops moving towards him, and jump-levitated back up to the pipe network, this time swinging himself up to his feet to run in a crouch along the narrow slippery pipes the way Briande had done. He knew from experience that stormtrooper helmets were difficult to see through, and the route back to where the tunnels had branched and Luke and Briande had separated was full of twists and curves. Provided none of the stormtroopers looked up, Luke should be okay. Of course, there were the unhelmeted commanders to consider, but they would be easy to spot in the sea of stormtroopers, and Luke could either hide or arrange a distraction when he encountered one.
He contacted Briande through the Force to let her know that he was on his way. But as he did, he felt a familiar Cold, Dark Presence, and he stopped in surprise and horror.
Sweet Force, he hadn't sent Briande to face her sister alone.
He had sent her to meet Palpatine.
Alone!
"No!" Luke whispered. He broke into a dead run across the pipes, ignoring the protests of his already drained muscles, determined to reach Briande before Palpatine killed her.
Or worse.
-----
Chapter Thirty-One
"You know that I am Palpatine. And still, you choose to face me alone?"
"Part of you is also Brenna. She will not let you destroy me."
"I see you are as foolish as your Jedi teacher. Have you learned nothing from the 'great' Luke Skywalker? Even he could not destroy me."
"On the contrary, I've learned a great deal from him. About myself--and you. Both of you. I know now why you arranged to have me arrested instead of killing me yourself. Even if you didn't anticipate the chance of a rescue, you were afraid to meet me in person, afraid of the truth you might see through me."
Her dark twin laughed coldly. "Really? Why do you think I brought you here?"
"Did you bring me here?"
"Of course. This was all arranged for your benefit. It matters little to me whether my forces actually win on this puny planet. I can raise another army just as easily."
"Then why did you wait until now, when my training is nearly complete? Why didn't you summon me sooner, when I was more vulnerable?"
"Your meager powers do not frighten me."
"Perhaps not. But I was speaking of knowledge and inner-strength. You may have summoned me, but not for the reasons you think."
BrennaPalpatine laughed again. "I have only one reason. To complete a task I left unfinished. You will not leave this world alive, sister." As Brenna spoke the last word, the lightsaber at the Dark Lady's belt unattached itself and leapt into her hand. Briande barely had time to get her own weapon out before her sister's deadly blade came crashing down towards her head with killing force.
Briande managed to parry the attack. Just barely.
BrennaPalpatine's lightsaber swung towards Briande's left shoulder. Briande tried to parry again, but the power behind the attack was too strong for her to block completely. The lightsaber just barely penetrated Briande's guard, just barely touched the top of her arm.
Briande screamed in agony.
"You see," BrennaPalpatine smiled. "Your weak powers are no equal to ours."
Briande sucked in air, searched herself for the Jedi-techniques to block pain, found them. "Brenna, listen to me," she said. "Palpatine is using you. Don't let him do this."
Her twin laughed. "Why should I want to stop him?" she asked.
Briande almost cried in relief. She was now talking to Brenna, not Palpatine. "Because he's not you," Briande said. "He wants only for himself. He cares nothing for you."
"But as long as I serve as host, when he serves himself, he also serves me." BrennaPalpatine brought her weapon low. Briande again tried to deflect it, but her wounded left arm was nearly useless.
Again, the attack penetrated Briande's guard. Again, the energy blade cut through the thick, heavy fabric of Briande's uniform as if it were less than tissue paper, and seared into the delicate flesh of Briande's thigh.
Briande made another cry of pain but caught herself before the leg could give way, and limped backwards, holding the lightsaber up in a single-hand defense position. Her left hand, already weakened from the shoulder-cut, pressed against the burn on her leg.
BrennaPalpatine advanced into her sister's retreat. Briande succeeded in deflecting the next blow, but the one after it sliced through the pommel of her lightsaber hilt, cutting through the energy cell itself and dividing the weapon into two. Briande watched helplessly as the blade disappeared and half of her weapon fell to the ground. She dropped the other half of her now useless weapon and tried to get away, but her sister's blade cut into her right calf. Briande cried with pain as her leg collapsed underneath her, and she fell to the floor.
She was no match for Palpatine’s strength.
"Now, sister," BrennaPalpatine said leisurely. "Shall I finish you all at once, or...no, not yet. Perhaps I will leave you as useless as your father was? No matter. You will learn, now, what I have to teach you."
Briande had half-risen, but her sister cut her leg from underneath her again, not severing the leg, but creating an agonizing burn. "Oh, never fear," BrennaPalpatine said, "Your Jedi-teacher will be dealt with." Then, systematically, BrennaPalpatine began to inflict punishing wounds on Briande's body, more wounds to her arms and legs, a burn to her mid-section, a burn across her cheek. Briande could do nothing to stop them. None of the wounds was mortal, none penetrated deep enough to sever a limb or create mortal damage, but each cut designed to inflict as much pain as possible.
A cold smile of satisfaction twisted her sister’s face until it looked more like the power-mad Emperor's face than that of the sister Briande had once loved.
BrennaPalpatine regarded the helpless woman writhing and groaning on the floor in front of her. “I grow tired of this instruction. I think you have learned your lesson.”
She/he lifted her energy weapon to deliver one last, final stroke.
"You know that I am Palpatine. And still, you choose to face me alone?"
"Part of you is also Brenna. She will not let you destroy me."
"I see you are as foolish as your Jedi teacher. Have you learned nothing from the 'great' Luke Skywalker? Even he could not destroy me."
"On the contrary, I've learned a great deal from him. About myself--and you. Both of you. I know now why you arranged to have me arrested instead of killing me yourself. Even if you didn't anticipate the chance of a rescue, you were afraid to meet me in person, afraid of the truth you might see through me."
Her dark twin laughed coldly. "Really? Why do you think I brought you here?"
"Did you bring me here?"
"Of course. This was all arranged for your benefit. It matters little to me whether my forces actually win on this puny planet. I can raise another army just as easily."
"Then why did you wait until now, when my training is nearly complete? Why didn't you summon me sooner, when I was more vulnerable?"
"Your meager powers do not frighten me."
"Perhaps not. But I was speaking of knowledge and inner-strength. You may have summoned me, but not for the reasons you think."
BrennaPalpatine laughed again. "I have only one reason. To complete a task I left unfinished. You will not leave this world alive, sister." As Brenna spoke the last word, the lightsaber at the Dark Lady's belt unattached itself and leapt into her hand. Briande barely had time to get her own weapon out before her sister's deadly blade came crashing down towards her head with killing force.
Briande managed to parry the attack. Just barely.
BrennaPalpatine's lightsaber swung towards Briande's left shoulder. Briande tried to parry again, but the power behind the attack was too strong for her to block completely. The lightsaber just barely penetrated Briande's guard, just barely touched the top of her arm.
Briande screamed in agony.
"You see," BrennaPalpatine smiled. "Your weak powers are no equal to ours."
Briande sucked in air, searched herself for the Jedi-techniques to block pain, found them. "Brenna, listen to me," she said. "Palpatine is using you. Don't let him do this."
Her twin laughed. "Why should I want to stop him?" she asked.
Briande almost cried in relief. She was now talking to Brenna, not Palpatine. "Because he's not you," Briande said. "He wants only for himself. He cares nothing for you."
"But as long as I serve as host, when he serves himself, he also serves me." BrennaPalpatine brought her weapon low. Briande again tried to deflect it, but her wounded left arm was nearly useless.
Again, the attack penetrated Briande's guard. Again, the energy blade cut through the thick, heavy fabric of Briande's uniform as if it were less than tissue paper, and seared into the delicate flesh of Briande's thigh.
Briande made another cry of pain but caught herself before the leg could give way, and limped backwards, holding the lightsaber up in a single-hand defense position. Her left hand, already weakened from the shoulder-cut, pressed against the burn on her leg.
BrennaPalpatine advanced into her sister's retreat. Briande succeeded in deflecting the next blow, but the one after it sliced through the pommel of her lightsaber hilt, cutting through the energy cell itself and dividing the weapon into two. Briande watched helplessly as the blade disappeared and half of her weapon fell to the ground. She dropped the other half of her now useless weapon and tried to get away, but her sister's blade cut into her right calf. Briande cried with pain as her leg collapsed underneath her, and she fell to the floor.
She was no match for Palpatine’s strength.
"Now, sister," BrennaPalpatine said leisurely. "Shall I finish you all at once, or...no, not yet. Perhaps I will leave you as useless as your father was? No matter. You will learn, now, what I have to teach you."
Briande had half-risen, but her sister cut her leg from underneath her again, not severing the leg, but creating an agonizing burn. "Oh, never fear," BrennaPalpatine said, "Your Jedi-teacher will be dealt with." Then, systematically, BrennaPalpatine began to inflict punishing wounds on Briande's body, more wounds to her arms and legs, a burn to her mid-section, a burn across her cheek. Briande could do nothing to stop them. None of the wounds was mortal, none penetrated deep enough to sever a limb or create mortal damage, but each cut designed to inflict as much pain as possible.
A cold smile of satisfaction twisted her sister’s face until it looked more like the power-mad Emperor's face than that of the sister Briande had once loved.
BrennaPalpatine regarded the helpless woman writhing and groaning on the floor in front of her. “I grow tired of this instruction. I think you have learned your lesson.”
She/he lifted her energy weapon to deliver one last, final stroke.
-----
Chapter Thirty-Two
Luke rushed in through the door in time to see BrennaPalpatine raise her weapon high to deliver the death-blow to her twin. Instantly, his own lightsaber was in his hand and activated, and he moved to strike the evil Dark Host before she could strike Briande.
From her position on the floor, Briande could see what was happening, although her sister's back was to the door, and she seemed unaware of Luke's arrival. "Luke, no!" she screamed. "Don't kill her!"
At the warning, BrennaPalpatine whirled around, and simultaneously a heavy rock picked itself off of the cave floor and hurled itself toward the oncoming Jedi.
Luke reacted through the Force and simultaneously tried to deflect the rock and spin away, but the power behind the missile was so great that he succeeded only in deflecting the killing force behind the stone. The rock still impacted against the side of his head with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground, unconscious.
Then, for a moment, the BrennaPalpatine hesitated, bewildered by her sister's actions. In saving Brenna's life, Briande had automatically condemned Skywalker to death. It made no sense, but Briande had done it. BrennaPalpatine moved slowly over to the Jedi teacher and raised her lightsaber to finish him off.
"Brenna, please—" On the floor, Briande somehow found the strength to raise an arm in supplication. As she had just pleaded for her sister's life, she now pleaded for Luke's. "Brenna, please, don't kill him. I...love him..."
The Dark Twin turned slowly back to her sister. As she turned, Briande saw that it was Brenna. Angry, yes, but it was her. For the moment at least, Brenna's personality was dominant over Palpatine's.
"The way that I loved Ayyris?"
Briande nodded desperately. "Exactly the same way."
"Yet you killed him." The Sith-Lady raised her weapon again above Luke.
"No, wait!" Briande cried. "Brenna, listen to me! I never had the chance to tell you why."
The Imperial colonel gave no indication that she had heard, except that the deadly energy blade did not come crashing down across Luke's body, but remained poised in her hands, ready to strike. Briande knew that she had to talk fast.
"Ayyris was a traitor. He was an Imperial spy sent to Kalmyr to eliminate the source of the information leak. He was going to kill you."
"I knew that," her sister said, without lowering her weapon.
Briande was stunned. "You knew? Then why did you—?"
Her sister turned to face her, the weapon still held aloft in the ready position. "I loved him! Don't you think I would have given up my life rather than take his? The choice was mine to make, not yours!"
Briande shook her head. "No, Brenna. It was my choice, too. If I had to, I'd make the same one again. It was Ayyris or you. Even if I knew everything that I know now, I'd still choose you."
"Well, sister, time to make another choice." Brenna nodded to where Luke's weapon had fallen to the ground, and to where Luke himself lay. "I will give you the chance to join me by destroying him. If not, you will surely die. And your Jedi-teacher will die anyway."
"No, Brenna, please! I...beg you. No more killing."
Her sister laughed incredulously. "You beg me? You, who destroyed my life? I don't give charity, but perhaps you could bargain for the life of your young Jedi. Come, sister, make me your best offer."
Briande closed her eyes, knowing that she had nothing to bargain with, except perhaps..."My life," she said. "And your freedom. Kill me, and leave me here, and I'll take your place, just as you planned originally."
Amusement showed in Brenna's eyes. "I doubt that your precious Jedi would agree to that."
"As long as you keep your word to stop the killing, he won't interfere with you. I'll see to that."
Her sister laughed. "Your offer is ludicrous. I have that if I just kill the two of you now. Why should I accept your offer? You would do better to accept mine."
"Please, Brenna. Your anger is with me. I beg you, take it out on me, not on the others. I can forgive you for anything you do to me."
Brenna's expression changed to anger again. "Who are you to tell me these things? Who are you to pretend forgiveness, when you betrayed me! If I killed your young Jedi, would you be able to forgive me then?"
Briande knew that she had failed. There was nothing more that she could do or say to turn her sister back. She had failed herself, she had failed Luke, and...she had failed Brenna. "I don't know," Briande sobbed. "Please, Bren, I just don't know."
Then, in that moment, Briande suddenly realized where her mistake had been. It was not she who needed to forgive Brenna, but Brenna who needed to forgive her. As the Dark Lady returned to where Luke was lying and raised her weapon one final time, Briande cried out, "Brenna, I'm sorry!"
Brenna turned to look at her.
Briande closed her eyes, sobbing. "I'm so sorry. I didn't understand until now. It's easy to love someone who loves you in return. It's so much harder to love someone who doesn't."
"There's more to it than that," Brenna said.
"I know. I thought I was choosing between Ayyris and you, when I killed him. I know now that I was choosing between you and me."
"Ayyris was brave," Brenna said quietly. "He came to Kalmyr knowing that it was a Rebel stronghold. He didn't expect to leave alive."
"But he didn't love you."
"He did," Brenna said. "He just...loved the Empire more."
Briande closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Bren. I didn't kill him for you. I didn't even kill him for the Rebellion. I did it for myself, because I didn't want to lose you. It's the same reason I begged Luke not kill you a moment ago. I still love you. I love you more than Ayyris ever did, more than Palpatine ever could, but it was a selfish love. And I beg you now for Luke's life for the same reason, because it's what I want, because my love for him is selfish, too. And I ask you to forgive me for being the way that I am, for putting my own wishes above yours."
For an endless moment, time seemed to stand still. Briande had nothing left. There was nothing more she could say or do. She waited helplessly for the whoosh of air that meant either Luke's or her own death, hoping it wouldn't come, expecting it nonetheless.
Brie.
Yes? Briande answered automatically, before even realizing that her sister had not spoken aloud. It was as if they were suddenly very young again, comforting each other for the lack of their father's affection, sharing secrets and songs, inseparable compassiatos.
Brenna lowered her deadly lightsaber. "I...forgive...you."
An earpiercing scream echoed suddenly around the cavern walls.
Luke rushed in through the door in time to see BrennaPalpatine raise her weapon high to deliver the death-blow to her twin. Instantly, his own lightsaber was in his hand and activated, and he moved to strike the evil Dark Host before she could strike Briande.
From her position on the floor, Briande could see what was happening, although her sister's back was to the door, and she seemed unaware of Luke's arrival. "Luke, no!" she screamed. "Don't kill her!"
At the warning, BrennaPalpatine whirled around, and simultaneously a heavy rock picked itself off of the cave floor and hurled itself toward the oncoming Jedi.
Luke reacted through the Force and simultaneously tried to deflect the rock and spin away, but the power behind the missile was so great that he succeeded only in deflecting the killing force behind the stone. The rock still impacted against the side of his head with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground, unconscious.
Then, for a moment, the BrennaPalpatine hesitated, bewildered by her sister's actions. In saving Brenna's life, Briande had automatically condemned Skywalker to death. It made no sense, but Briande had done it. BrennaPalpatine moved slowly over to the Jedi teacher and raised her lightsaber to finish him off.
"Brenna, please—" On the floor, Briande somehow found the strength to raise an arm in supplication. As she had just pleaded for her sister's life, she now pleaded for Luke's. "Brenna, please, don't kill him. I...love him..."
The Dark Twin turned slowly back to her sister. As she turned, Briande saw that it was Brenna. Angry, yes, but it was her. For the moment at least, Brenna's personality was dominant over Palpatine's.
"The way that I loved Ayyris?"
Briande nodded desperately. "Exactly the same way."
"Yet you killed him." The Sith-Lady raised her weapon again above Luke.
"No, wait!" Briande cried. "Brenna, listen to me! I never had the chance to tell you why."
The Imperial colonel gave no indication that she had heard, except that the deadly energy blade did not come crashing down across Luke's body, but remained poised in her hands, ready to strike. Briande knew that she had to talk fast.
"Ayyris was a traitor. He was an Imperial spy sent to Kalmyr to eliminate the source of the information leak. He was going to kill you."
"I knew that," her sister said, without lowering her weapon.
Briande was stunned. "You knew? Then why did you—?"
Her sister turned to face her, the weapon still held aloft in the ready position. "I loved him! Don't you think I would have given up my life rather than take his? The choice was mine to make, not yours!"
Briande shook her head. "No, Brenna. It was my choice, too. If I had to, I'd make the same one again. It was Ayyris or you. Even if I knew everything that I know now, I'd still choose you."
"Well, sister, time to make another choice." Brenna nodded to where Luke's weapon had fallen to the ground, and to where Luke himself lay. "I will give you the chance to join me by destroying him. If not, you will surely die. And your Jedi-teacher will die anyway."
"No, Brenna, please! I...beg you. No more killing."
Her sister laughed incredulously. "You beg me? You, who destroyed my life? I don't give charity, but perhaps you could bargain for the life of your young Jedi. Come, sister, make me your best offer."
Briande closed her eyes, knowing that she had nothing to bargain with, except perhaps..."My life," she said. "And your freedom. Kill me, and leave me here, and I'll take your place, just as you planned originally."
Amusement showed in Brenna's eyes. "I doubt that your precious Jedi would agree to that."
"As long as you keep your word to stop the killing, he won't interfere with you. I'll see to that."
Her sister laughed. "Your offer is ludicrous. I have that if I just kill the two of you now. Why should I accept your offer? You would do better to accept mine."
"Please, Brenna. Your anger is with me. I beg you, take it out on me, not on the others. I can forgive you for anything you do to me."
Brenna's expression changed to anger again. "Who are you to tell me these things? Who are you to pretend forgiveness, when you betrayed me! If I killed your young Jedi, would you be able to forgive me then?"
Briande knew that she had failed. There was nothing more that she could do or say to turn her sister back. She had failed herself, she had failed Luke, and...she had failed Brenna. "I don't know," Briande sobbed. "Please, Bren, I just don't know."
Then, in that moment, Briande suddenly realized where her mistake had been. It was not she who needed to forgive Brenna, but Brenna who needed to forgive her. As the Dark Lady returned to where Luke was lying and raised her weapon one final time, Briande cried out, "Brenna, I'm sorry!"
Brenna turned to look at her.
Briande closed her eyes, sobbing. "I'm so sorry. I didn't understand until now. It's easy to love someone who loves you in return. It's so much harder to love someone who doesn't."
"There's more to it than that," Brenna said.
"I know. I thought I was choosing between Ayyris and you, when I killed him. I know now that I was choosing between you and me."
"Ayyris was brave," Brenna said quietly. "He came to Kalmyr knowing that it was a Rebel stronghold. He didn't expect to leave alive."
"But he didn't love you."
"He did," Brenna said. "He just...loved the Empire more."
Briande closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Bren. I didn't kill him for you. I didn't even kill him for the Rebellion. I did it for myself, because I didn't want to lose you. It's the same reason I begged Luke not kill you a moment ago. I still love you. I love you more than Ayyris ever did, more than Palpatine ever could, but it was a selfish love. And I beg you now for Luke's life for the same reason, because it's what I want, because my love for him is selfish, too. And I ask you to forgive me for being the way that I am, for putting my own wishes above yours."
For an endless moment, time seemed to stand still. Briande had nothing left. There was nothing more she could say or do. She waited helplessly for the whoosh of air that meant either Luke's or her own death, hoping it wouldn't come, expecting it nonetheless.
Brie.
Yes? Briande answered automatically, before even realizing that her sister had not spoken aloud. It was as if they were suddenly very young again, comforting each other for the lack of their father's affection, sharing secrets and songs, inseparable compassiatos.
Brenna lowered her deadly lightsaber. "I...forgive...you."
An earpiercing scream echoed suddenly around the cavern walls.
-----
Chapter Thirty-Three
Luke's hearing was the first thing to penetrate the fog of unconsciousness and pain as he struggled back to his senses. He could hear Briande talking. It sounded like she was talking to herself, but the sound of her voice came from two different places. His head hurt too much to open his eyes yet, so he decided just to listen.
"I thought I was choosing between him and you, when I killed him. I know now that I was choosing between you and me."
"Ayyris was brave. He came to Kalmyr knowing that it was a Rebel stronghold. He didn't expect to leave alive."
Suddenly he realized what it was. Brenna! She was talking to Brenna! A split second after that realization hit him, he remembered that Brenna was also Palpatine. Luke struggled to clear the fog out of his head and block the pain, remembering that there was no way Briande could handle Palpatine alone.
"I'm sorry, Bren. I didn't kill him for you. I didn't even kill him for the Rebellion. I did it for myself, because I didn't want to lose you."
Luke opened his eyes. The light was blinding, but he forced them to stay open.
"It's the same reason I begged Luke not kill you a moment ago. I still love you. I love you more than Ayyris ever did, more than Palpatine ever could, but it's a selfish love. And I beg you now for Luke's life for the same reason, because it's what I want, because my love for him is selfish, too. And I ask you to forgive me for being the way that I am, for putting my own wishes above yours."
Luke could see them both now. Briande was on the floor, half-dead with energy burns and exhaustion. His heart ached to see so many ugly scars, but she was still alive. Brenna was standing with her back to Luke, amazingly unaware of his presence.
Luke's lightsaber lay nearby. He called it to him silently. It was unlikely he'd ever land a killing blow on Palpatine, but with Brenna there might be a chance.
Then something astonishing happened. On the floor, Briande's face relaxed, as if some private communication had taken place between her and her sister. Even more astonishing, Brenna slowly lowered her guard.
Luke tightened his grip on the hilt, alert for any sign of a trick, but Briande seemed totally at peace.
Luke exhaled in relief and let his lightsaber drop and roll away. Briande had done it! She had turned her sister back from the Dark Side! And for an instant, he thought that the battle was over. Then...
Brenna's scream echoed around the cavern walls.
Palpatine. For an instant, he had forgotten about Palpatine!
Luke had naively thought in that brief space that if Briande succeeded in turning her sister back, that would be the end of it. He had forgotten that Palpatine would simply find another Dark host, and then another, until the Evil spirit found a vessel that they could not stop.
Brenna's ear-piercing scream continued as the Emperor sought to regain his previous hold on her. On the floor, Briande somehow found the strength to push her knees under her. "Bren--" she said. "Stay firm...Resist him..."
"Brie—" her sister responded. Then Brenna went rock-still. A vapor seemed to form around her as the Emperor, driven out by the unwillingness of his former host, began to separate himself from her.
And just as suddenly, Luke knew what he had to do. All the visions, all the Dark Dreams, all the prophecies made sense now. The puzzle he had been looking at was like a mosaic. He had been looking at the individual parts too closely and hadn't been able to see the complete pattern. But stepping back and looking at it from a different perspective, he could now see the whole picture.
As a spirit, Palpatine was unstoppable. But if they could find some way to kill his spirit...
But how did one kill a spirit? It was impossible to kill something that wasn't alive, but it might be possible to divide a spirit from itself, just as the spirit had been divided from the body.
Luke had said once that he trusted Briande with his life. But did he trust her enough to take it? He would have to. It was the only chance they had of destroying Palpatine. If Briande didn't do it, they might never have another opportunity. It all depended on which was stronger, her love for everything Luke was and everything he believed in, or her need to have him by her side.
The division had to be made while Palpatine's spirit was in transition. Luke sent his weapon rolling towards Briande, knowing that Briande wouldn't stand a chance against LukePalpatine if he were armed. He raised his hands to his head and pressed his fingers against the sides, to help him concentrate to do what had to be done. "Brie—" he said.
Briande looked up at the sound of her name, seeing that he was awake. But she didn't comprehend yet what he was doing.
Time was short. He had to make her understand. "I know how to stop Palpatine," he said. He opened, very briefly, the intimate link they shared as compassiatos, and then closed it again. It had to stay closed for this to work.
"Luke, no!" she shouted, finally comprehending what he meant to do.
"Only one chance," he said. "I'm sorry, Brie. You'll have to kill me..."
Luke then felt a black flicker of Palpatine's spirit, questing, entering his mind like a finger to taste an unknown food. He thought back to the time on the Death Star II, when the Dark Side had held him in its strongest grasp. He remembered the exultance, the feeling of glory... He had to convince Palpatine, convince himself, that he wanted the Darkness.
He could feel Palpatine. He could feel the Power. Luke tried to encourage the heady feeling and bury his revulsion deep inside. He knew that Palpatine's spirit would eventually find that secret place, but if he could just hide it long enough...
"Kill me..." he whispered.
Luke's hearing was the first thing to penetrate the fog of unconsciousness and pain as he struggled back to his senses. He could hear Briande talking. It sounded like she was talking to herself, but the sound of her voice came from two different places. His head hurt too much to open his eyes yet, so he decided just to listen.
"I thought I was choosing between him and you, when I killed him. I know now that I was choosing between you and me."
"Ayyris was brave. He came to Kalmyr knowing that it was a Rebel stronghold. He didn't expect to leave alive."
Suddenly he realized what it was. Brenna! She was talking to Brenna! A split second after that realization hit him, he remembered that Brenna was also Palpatine. Luke struggled to clear the fog out of his head and block the pain, remembering that there was no way Briande could handle Palpatine alone.
"I'm sorry, Bren. I didn't kill him for you. I didn't even kill him for the Rebellion. I did it for myself, because I didn't want to lose you."
Luke opened his eyes. The light was blinding, but he forced them to stay open.
"It's the same reason I begged Luke not kill you a moment ago. I still love you. I love you more than Ayyris ever did, more than Palpatine ever could, but it's a selfish love. And I beg you now for Luke's life for the same reason, because it's what I want, because my love for him is selfish, too. And I ask you to forgive me for being the way that I am, for putting my own wishes above yours."
Luke could see them both now. Briande was on the floor, half-dead with energy burns and exhaustion. His heart ached to see so many ugly scars, but she was still alive. Brenna was standing with her back to Luke, amazingly unaware of his presence.
Luke's lightsaber lay nearby. He called it to him silently. It was unlikely he'd ever land a killing blow on Palpatine, but with Brenna there might be a chance.
Then something astonishing happened. On the floor, Briande's face relaxed, as if some private communication had taken place between her and her sister. Even more astonishing, Brenna slowly lowered her guard.
Luke tightened his grip on the hilt, alert for any sign of a trick, but Briande seemed totally at peace.
Luke exhaled in relief and let his lightsaber drop and roll away. Briande had done it! She had turned her sister back from the Dark Side! And for an instant, he thought that the battle was over. Then...
Brenna's scream echoed around the cavern walls.
Palpatine. For an instant, he had forgotten about Palpatine!
Luke had naively thought in that brief space that if Briande succeeded in turning her sister back, that would be the end of it. He had forgotten that Palpatine would simply find another Dark host, and then another, until the Evil spirit found a vessel that they could not stop.
Brenna's ear-piercing scream continued as the Emperor sought to regain his previous hold on her. On the floor, Briande somehow found the strength to push her knees under her. "Bren--" she said. "Stay firm...Resist him..."
"Brie—" her sister responded. Then Brenna went rock-still. A vapor seemed to form around her as the Emperor, driven out by the unwillingness of his former host, began to separate himself from her.
And just as suddenly, Luke knew what he had to do. All the visions, all the Dark Dreams, all the prophecies made sense now. The puzzle he had been looking at was like a mosaic. He had been looking at the individual parts too closely and hadn't been able to see the complete pattern. But stepping back and looking at it from a different perspective, he could now see the whole picture.
As a spirit, Palpatine was unstoppable. But if they could find some way to kill his spirit...
But how did one kill a spirit? It was impossible to kill something that wasn't alive, but it might be possible to divide a spirit from itself, just as the spirit had been divided from the body.
Luke had said once that he trusted Briande with his life. But did he trust her enough to take it? He would have to. It was the only chance they had of destroying Palpatine. If Briande didn't do it, they might never have another opportunity. It all depended on which was stronger, her love for everything Luke was and everything he believed in, or her need to have him by her side.
The division had to be made while Palpatine's spirit was in transition. Luke sent his weapon rolling towards Briande, knowing that Briande wouldn't stand a chance against LukePalpatine if he were armed. He raised his hands to his head and pressed his fingers against the sides, to help him concentrate to do what had to be done. "Brie—" he said.
Briande looked up at the sound of her name, seeing that he was awake. But she didn't comprehend yet what he was doing.
Time was short. He had to make her understand. "I know how to stop Palpatine," he said. He opened, very briefly, the intimate link they shared as compassiatos, and then closed it again. It had to stay closed for this to work.
"Luke, no!" she shouted, finally comprehending what he meant to do.
"Only one chance," he said. "I'm sorry, Brie. You'll have to kill me..."
Luke then felt a black flicker of Palpatine's spirit, questing, entering his mind like a finger to taste an unknown food. He thought back to the time on the Death Star II, when the Dark Side had held him in its strongest grasp. He remembered the exultance, the feeling of glory... He had to convince Palpatine, convince himself, that he wanted the Darkness.
He could feel Palpatine. He could feel the Power. Luke tried to encourage the heady feeling and bury his revulsion deep inside. He knew that Palpatine's spirit would eventually find that secret place, but if he could just hide it long enough...
"Kill me..." he whispered.
-----
Chapter Thirty-Four
Briande was in torment. She loved them both, but knew she would have to kill either Brenna or Luke in order to destroy Palpatine. And whatever she did had to be done quickly, while his spirit was still in transition.
"Kill me—" Luke repeated in a harsh voice. Then his eyes hardened, grew cold. Not much time left.
Briande looked at her sister. Brenna was still in a daze, but she was also still armed with her lightsaber. If Briande attacked her now, she would by no means be sure of succeeding, and might also push Brenna back to the Dark Side. And...Briande couldn't kill her sister.
She also couldn't kill Luke.
She loved them both.
But if she didn't destroy one of them now, she would condemn everyone to an eternity of darkness, for there would be nothing this time to stop Palpatine.
Luke's eyes began to flare with hate even as Brenna's eyes softened. Only a few seconds left.
I love love, he had said. Palpatine would destroy this feeling--will destroy it, if he can—and that, for me, would be far worse than death...make the choice I would want you to make right now.
Numbly, like an automaton, Briande reached for the lightsaber that Luke had pushed to her. Luke's lightsaber. She activated it, and looked at the man she loved. "I'm sorry, Luke," she whispered.
Time.
She looked at Brenna. Palpatine's spirit was almost gone from her now, driven out by the force of Brenna's love. She could even see the Dark bluish-black vapor as it moved towards Luke, coalescing around him, starting to disappear into him. She dragged herself over to him, lacking the ability to stand.
Time!
A cold, chilled laugh escaped Luke's lips. "You weak fool! Did you think you could—"
The question was never finished. With a cry of anguish and utter despair, Briande brought the point of the lightsaber to Luke's throat. Its stroke was true. It just barely touched his body, but it severed and cauterized the carotid artery. Luke's expression was surprised, angry, and Dark. His eyes were open and staring. Hatred burned there, hatred that was not Luke's. And then it was over.
There was no blood, but Luke was dead. Dead by her hand, by the hand of the woman who loved him.
Briande threw the lightsaber away, not caring that it was still activated, and collapsed to the floor. She closed her eyes. Tears squeezed through her tightly shut lids and fell to the cut she had made in Luke's throat as she pulled herself over him, cleansing the death-wound with the water of her grief.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Luke's expression had changed. No longer was his face contorted with the Dark Side's rage; now it was calm, peaceful. This was Luke; and she, by her act, had freed him. The Other that she had killed had been the Dark One, not Luke.
And yet...Luke was dead.
There was no way she could bring him back.
Briande collapsed across his body in a sobbing exhausted heap. She wanted nothing more than to join the nothingness to which Luke now belonged, where love and life and death no longer mattered.
.
.
.
Brenna Brellis came out of her trance slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep. But unlike waking from a true sleep, it was more like being brought out of a nightmare, or some horrible day-dream. And the events in the dream had not been in her imagination; they had been only too real.
She was aware of a change in the Force, an ebbing. It was almost as if some part of her were being pulled away, yet she knew this was not true. The change was coming from her sister. Briande was dying.
The wounds BrennaPalpatine had inflicted on her twin were not mortal of themselves, but Briande had lost her will to live. She was drifting toward the edges of oblivion, and if something were not done now, it would soon be too late.
Brenna knew what Briande had done, and why. The act had somehow put them both on the same level, for now Briande herself understood what Brenna had gone through all those long years ago. "No," she said softly, not to Briande, but to herself. "No, it will not happen again. This time, she will not lose him."
The eyes that had once belonged to an Imperial murderess now looked down at her sister with compassion and understanding. She knew things of the Force that Briande did not, and could not know. Dark things, and things not so dark. This was Palpatine's gift to her, this particular mastery over the Force, in exchange for what she had given Palpatine. Brenna could save Luke. It would cost her sister something, but in the end Briande would gain the thing that mattered most.
"Brie..." she said softly.
The young Jedi was lost in her own grief. She did not hear her sister's voice.
"Brie—" her twin said again, touching her shoulder.
With great effort, Briande raised her head and looked at her sister. "Was I...in time?" she asked weakly.
Brenna nodded. Palpatine was gone. His spirit was divided and lost in its own blackness. He was no longer whole, and would not be for a long time yet to come, perhaps never.
Briande smiled. It had been worth it then. She groped painfully for Luke's hand and locked her fingers through his unresponsive ones.
Luke's hand was cold.
Nothing of the Force stirred within him.
Briande felt a sob catching in her throat and pushed it back down angrily. Soon she would be with him. She could feel the weakening of her own life energy even now. Her eyes closed in an attempt to quicken the release of her spirit.
"Briande!" There was a strange kind of insistence in Brenna's voice. "Brie, look at me!"
Briande felt compelled to obey. Slowly, her eyelids opened, and she looked at her sister.
"Brie, there may still be a way to save Luke."
"How?" Briande whispered.
"An exchange of life energy. Another life for his."
Briande's eyes began to show a faint trace of hope. She looked at the mirror-image face above her pleadingly. "Please," she said. "I'll do anything..."
Brenna nodded and began gently pulling her off Luke's body, laying her beside him on the floor. Briande found Luke's hand with her own and grabbed onto it, holding on with what little strength she had left.
"Tell me what to do," the Jedi begged. "I don't know how..."
"You don't need to know," her sister replied. "Just relax. Open yourself to the Force."
Briande did as she was instructed. She could feel her sister's gentle presence pervading the Force—warm and comforting now, not cold—as well as the light touch of Brenna's fingers on the side of her head, alleviating the pain. Briande closed her eyes.
She was only dimly aware, after a few moments, that Brenna had separated her and Luke's hands and was now holding them herself, acting as a link between them.
A warmth radiated through Briande's body. The sensation was not unpleasant, but it was very strange. Briande started to open her eyes and look around to her twin.
Brenna sensed her movement. "Relax, Brie," she murmured. "Feel the Force. Let it enter you, let it flow out of you freely. Don't resist."
Briande relaxed. The pain from her wounds disappeared entirely. The emotional turmoil she had felt only moments ago was gone. She felt calm, relaxed, and at peace. The idle thought struck her that death was not the cold nothingness that she had once imagined it to be. It was more like a warm and comfortable shore. She tried to reach out to her sister to thank her for making the trade possible, but though Brenna answered the touch, she kept up a barrier that would not let them share consciousness, blocking the compassiatos link. Strange..., Briande thought.
Relax, said the voice in her mind.
Briande let herself drift along the sea of thoughts where the Force carried her. She felt pleasantly tired.
Gradually she could feel some part of Luke returning and smiled that, for a last moment at least, they could still share something. She was not certain what she would find on the shore she was heading for, but she knew now that no monsters were waiting there for her.
Briande allowed the Force to carry her where it would. She was completely passive to its influence. It urged her to release her weary, conscious mind, and she began to let go.
Just as she felt herself almost touching the shallow bottom, she thought she heard a low, quiet moan that could only have been made by Luke's voice.
Briande smiled to herself, and then drifted inwardly along the peaceful current of the Force. She felt so tired...
She just wanted to go to sleep...
.
.
.
Something pulled at her, nagging her. Something urged her to wake up, but she just wanted to be left in the world of silent oblivion.
It persisted.
Briande forced an eye open to glare at it, hoping that it would go away.
"Come on, Brie, wake up—" He shook her harder.
Briande forced the other eye open, too. She found that she had some difficulty in focusing, but eventually brought the face before her into sharp relief. "Luke?" she said wonderingly. "Luke, you're..." she broke off suddenly and frowned, remembering. Then she looked at him in puzzlement. "Luke, you're alive."
"I was beginning to wonder about you," he returned in a gentle tease.
"But—" she looked at her hands, and then her body. "But I was—I was dying. I know I was. How—?"
"I was already dead," Luke said quietly.
Sudden realization hit Briande. She looked around frantically. "Bren..."
"Behind you, Brie."
With Luke helping her, she managed to turn around. Even before she could see, the truth of what had happened became clear to her. It was not Briande's life energy that Brenna had intended to trade, but her own.
"Oh, Bren..." she moaned.
Her sister's motionless form stretched on the floor a few feet away. Even though Briande's senses still had not returned fully, she could see the lightsaber wound on Brenna's neck, the same one Briande had inflicted on Luke, now transferred to her. There was also a scar running across Brenna's cheek, and Briande knew that there was no longer any such mark on her own cheek. Without looking, Briande knew that there would also be lightsaber cuts on Brenna's arms, calves, thighs, midsection, and shoulders. Brenna had taken Briande's pain from her and given it to herself. But despite the ugly scars that covered her lifeless body, Brenna's eyes were closed, and there was a slight, gentle smile on her lips.
"She looks peaceful," Luke commented. "Like she was sleeping."
"Oh, damn, Bren..." Briande crawled toward her motionless twin. Luke helped her to reach her destination. The Jedi twin touched her sister's forehead, but the Force was cold in her. "Damn, Bren..." she repeated in a quiet whisper.
"There's nothing you can do, Briande."
"Maybe there is." She looked at Luke. "Brenna brought us back. Maybe I can bring her back." Briande let her fingertips rest gently on her sister's temples, but Luke pulled her away.
"You can't, Briande. Your sister was more than just a Force-sensitive. She was a Master of the Force, too. Palpatine gave that to her. You can't duplicate what she did."
"But—"
"Listen to me, Brie. She did what she thought was best. Accept her gift for what it was: a selfless act of love. If you try to do the same thing, you'll be killed in the process, and it won't bring her back."
Briande looked at her sister's still form. "You can't be sure, Luke. Maybe if I—"
He interrupted. "I can be sure. You can't do it. You don't know how."
Briande looked at him. Comprehension slowly developed in her eyes as she realized that Luke, too, had served as a host for Palpatine. "You know how," she said. "You could show me how."
Luke shook his head. "I didn't share consciousness with him long enough. But even if I could, I wouldn't."
"Please, Luke," she whispered.
"Briande, think a minute. If I could her back, if you could, what would happen? She's a wanted criminal. There's no place to run to. The best she could expect would be life-imprisonment."
"But if I brought her back, we could trade places. With my body as evidence, no one would ever know the difference. She could take my place..."
Luke nodded again. "No doubt. But think again, Briande. You knew her better than anybody. When she brought me back, we touched each other through the Force. For a brief moment, we could sense each other, know what the other was feeling. The strongest emotion I felt from her was regret. She wanted to atone for the lives of all those people who died on Croyus Four, and for your father as well. This was her way of doing it. If she had lived, she would have suffered with guilt for the rest of her life. Let her go, Brie. Don't force her into a punished, tortured existence."
Briande closed her eyes tightly. "I know you're right, Luke, but..."
"I loved her, too, Briande, in a way I can't explain right now. But this is how she wanted it. Don't let her sacrifice be meaningless."
Briande opened her eyes and looked back at her sister's face, at the pleasant, restful expression Brenna wore.
"I guess she's at peace now," she said slowly.
"I can feel it," Luke replied.
"Funny," Briande said. "I think I can, too. But I wish..."
"I know. I do, too. But we can't have everything we wish for." Luke stood up and pulled Briande up with him. "If you can move, let's get out of here. The fleet should be here any time, but I'd rather not take any chances on someone coming to look for your sister and mistaking you for her a second time."
"What about Brenna?"
"We'll take her with us. After her identity's been confirmed, we'll take her back to Dagobah for a proper Jedi funeral."
"No," Briande said, looking at her sister's body. Compassiatos, now gone. "We'll take her back...home. To Kalmyr. We'll bury her beside Ayyris. I think... she'd want that."
Briande thought she heard a faint, familiar voice. She knew she was alone now, except for Luke, but she thought she heard it anyway, a hint of the compassiatos link she had shared with Brenna. It was quite possible that what she heard/felt was a childhood memory, or some wishful imagining, but she wanted to believe that it was not.
Thank you, the unspoken voice said.
"Luke—" Briande began. "Luke, she was a Jedi, wasn't she? In the end, I mean."
"Yes, she was."
"Do you think it's possible that..."
"What?"
Briande shook her head. "Never mind. I guess I'm just tired."
Luke held out his hand, and Briande took it. "Come on," he said. "We have work to do. Even without Palpatine to threaten it, the Republic is still weak. It needs someone to defend it. A new order of Jedi."
Briande smiled. "I know."
"Then, after we get enough Knights trained, then maybe we can think about retiring to Tatooine and raising a few crops."
"Maybe," she said. "But I doubt it."
Luke gave a little laugh. "Yeah. I guess I do, too." He looked at Briande. She was a Jedi. She was beautiful and strong and alive. And he loved her.
Briande squeezed his hand. "We are luminous beings, Luke."
He looked at her, perplexed. It was not a question. "Yes," he replied.
She nodded. Bren, she said silently, thank you. I love him. And I love you, too.
The tickle again. The faint, almost-real thought in her brain. The Force will always be with you, Brie.
And then it was gone.
Briande shot a puzzled look at Luke, but he showed no signs of having heard it. It could be my imagination, she thought.
But she hoped it was not.
(The End)
Briande was in torment. She loved them both, but knew she would have to kill either Brenna or Luke in order to destroy Palpatine. And whatever she did had to be done quickly, while his spirit was still in transition.
"Kill me—" Luke repeated in a harsh voice. Then his eyes hardened, grew cold. Not much time left.
Briande looked at her sister. Brenna was still in a daze, but she was also still armed with her lightsaber. If Briande attacked her now, she would by no means be sure of succeeding, and might also push Brenna back to the Dark Side. And...Briande couldn't kill her sister.
She also couldn't kill Luke.
She loved them both.
But if she didn't destroy one of them now, she would condemn everyone to an eternity of darkness, for there would be nothing this time to stop Palpatine.
Luke's eyes began to flare with hate even as Brenna's eyes softened. Only a few seconds left.
I love love, he had said. Palpatine would destroy this feeling--will destroy it, if he can—and that, for me, would be far worse than death...make the choice I would want you to make right now.
Numbly, like an automaton, Briande reached for the lightsaber that Luke had pushed to her. Luke's lightsaber. She activated it, and looked at the man she loved. "I'm sorry, Luke," she whispered.
Time.
She looked at Brenna. Palpatine's spirit was almost gone from her now, driven out by the force of Brenna's love. She could even see the Dark bluish-black vapor as it moved towards Luke, coalescing around him, starting to disappear into him. She dragged herself over to him, lacking the ability to stand.
Time!
A cold, chilled laugh escaped Luke's lips. "You weak fool! Did you think you could—"
The question was never finished. With a cry of anguish and utter despair, Briande brought the point of the lightsaber to Luke's throat. Its stroke was true. It just barely touched his body, but it severed and cauterized the carotid artery. Luke's expression was surprised, angry, and Dark. His eyes were open and staring. Hatred burned there, hatred that was not Luke's. And then it was over.
There was no blood, but Luke was dead. Dead by her hand, by the hand of the woman who loved him.
Briande threw the lightsaber away, not caring that it was still activated, and collapsed to the floor. She closed her eyes. Tears squeezed through her tightly shut lids and fell to the cut she had made in Luke's throat as she pulled herself over him, cleansing the death-wound with the water of her grief.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Luke's expression had changed. No longer was his face contorted with the Dark Side's rage; now it was calm, peaceful. This was Luke; and she, by her act, had freed him. The Other that she had killed had been the Dark One, not Luke.
And yet...Luke was dead.
There was no way she could bring him back.
Briande collapsed across his body in a sobbing exhausted heap. She wanted nothing more than to join the nothingness to which Luke now belonged, where love and life and death no longer mattered.
.
.
.
Brenna Brellis came out of her trance slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep. But unlike waking from a true sleep, it was more like being brought out of a nightmare, or some horrible day-dream. And the events in the dream had not been in her imagination; they had been only too real.
She was aware of a change in the Force, an ebbing. It was almost as if some part of her were being pulled away, yet she knew this was not true. The change was coming from her sister. Briande was dying.
The wounds BrennaPalpatine had inflicted on her twin were not mortal of themselves, but Briande had lost her will to live. She was drifting toward the edges of oblivion, and if something were not done now, it would soon be too late.
Brenna knew what Briande had done, and why. The act had somehow put them both on the same level, for now Briande herself understood what Brenna had gone through all those long years ago. "No," she said softly, not to Briande, but to herself. "No, it will not happen again. This time, she will not lose him."
The eyes that had once belonged to an Imperial murderess now looked down at her sister with compassion and understanding. She knew things of the Force that Briande did not, and could not know. Dark things, and things not so dark. This was Palpatine's gift to her, this particular mastery over the Force, in exchange for what she had given Palpatine. Brenna could save Luke. It would cost her sister something, but in the end Briande would gain the thing that mattered most.
"Brie..." she said softly.
The young Jedi was lost in her own grief. She did not hear her sister's voice.
"Brie—" her twin said again, touching her shoulder.
With great effort, Briande raised her head and looked at her sister. "Was I...in time?" she asked weakly.
Brenna nodded. Palpatine was gone. His spirit was divided and lost in its own blackness. He was no longer whole, and would not be for a long time yet to come, perhaps never.
Briande smiled. It had been worth it then. She groped painfully for Luke's hand and locked her fingers through his unresponsive ones.
Luke's hand was cold.
Nothing of the Force stirred within him.
Briande felt a sob catching in her throat and pushed it back down angrily. Soon she would be with him. She could feel the weakening of her own life energy even now. Her eyes closed in an attempt to quicken the release of her spirit.
"Briande!" There was a strange kind of insistence in Brenna's voice. "Brie, look at me!"
Briande felt compelled to obey. Slowly, her eyelids opened, and she looked at her sister.
"Brie, there may still be a way to save Luke."
"How?" Briande whispered.
"An exchange of life energy. Another life for his."
Briande's eyes began to show a faint trace of hope. She looked at the mirror-image face above her pleadingly. "Please," she said. "I'll do anything..."
Brenna nodded and began gently pulling her off Luke's body, laying her beside him on the floor. Briande found Luke's hand with her own and grabbed onto it, holding on with what little strength she had left.
"Tell me what to do," the Jedi begged. "I don't know how..."
"You don't need to know," her sister replied. "Just relax. Open yourself to the Force."
Briande did as she was instructed. She could feel her sister's gentle presence pervading the Force—warm and comforting now, not cold—as well as the light touch of Brenna's fingers on the side of her head, alleviating the pain. Briande closed her eyes.
She was only dimly aware, after a few moments, that Brenna had separated her and Luke's hands and was now holding them herself, acting as a link between them.
A warmth radiated through Briande's body. The sensation was not unpleasant, but it was very strange. Briande started to open her eyes and look around to her twin.
Brenna sensed her movement. "Relax, Brie," she murmured. "Feel the Force. Let it enter you, let it flow out of you freely. Don't resist."
Briande relaxed. The pain from her wounds disappeared entirely. The emotional turmoil she had felt only moments ago was gone. She felt calm, relaxed, and at peace. The idle thought struck her that death was not the cold nothingness that she had once imagined it to be. It was more like a warm and comfortable shore. She tried to reach out to her sister to thank her for making the trade possible, but though Brenna answered the touch, she kept up a barrier that would not let them share consciousness, blocking the compassiatos link. Strange..., Briande thought.
Relax, said the voice in her mind.
Briande let herself drift along the sea of thoughts where the Force carried her. She felt pleasantly tired.
Gradually she could feel some part of Luke returning and smiled that, for a last moment at least, they could still share something. She was not certain what she would find on the shore she was heading for, but she knew now that no monsters were waiting there for her.
Briande allowed the Force to carry her where it would. She was completely passive to its influence. It urged her to release her weary, conscious mind, and she began to let go.
Just as she felt herself almost touching the shallow bottom, she thought she heard a low, quiet moan that could only have been made by Luke's voice.
Briande smiled to herself, and then drifted inwardly along the peaceful current of the Force. She felt so tired...
She just wanted to go to sleep...
.
.
.
Something pulled at her, nagging her. Something urged her to wake up, but she just wanted to be left in the world of silent oblivion.
It persisted.
Briande forced an eye open to glare at it, hoping that it would go away.
"Come on, Brie, wake up—" He shook her harder.
Briande forced the other eye open, too. She found that she had some difficulty in focusing, but eventually brought the face before her into sharp relief. "Luke?" she said wonderingly. "Luke, you're..." she broke off suddenly and frowned, remembering. Then she looked at him in puzzlement. "Luke, you're alive."
"I was beginning to wonder about you," he returned in a gentle tease.
"But—" she looked at her hands, and then her body. "But I was—I was dying. I know I was. How—?"
"I was already dead," Luke said quietly.
Sudden realization hit Briande. She looked around frantically. "Bren..."
"Behind you, Brie."
With Luke helping her, she managed to turn around. Even before she could see, the truth of what had happened became clear to her. It was not Briande's life energy that Brenna had intended to trade, but her own.
"Oh, Bren..." she moaned.
Her sister's motionless form stretched on the floor a few feet away. Even though Briande's senses still had not returned fully, she could see the lightsaber wound on Brenna's neck, the same one Briande had inflicted on Luke, now transferred to her. There was also a scar running across Brenna's cheek, and Briande knew that there was no longer any such mark on her own cheek. Without looking, Briande knew that there would also be lightsaber cuts on Brenna's arms, calves, thighs, midsection, and shoulders. Brenna had taken Briande's pain from her and given it to herself. But despite the ugly scars that covered her lifeless body, Brenna's eyes were closed, and there was a slight, gentle smile on her lips.
"She looks peaceful," Luke commented. "Like she was sleeping."
"Oh, damn, Bren..." Briande crawled toward her motionless twin. Luke helped her to reach her destination. The Jedi twin touched her sister's forehead, but the Force was cold in her. "Damn, Bren..." she repeated in a quiet whisper.
"There's nothing you can do, Briande."
"Maybe there is." She looked at Luke. "Brenna brought us back. Maybe I can bring her back." Briande let her fingertips rest gently on her sister's temples, but Luke pulled her away.
"You can't, Briande. Your sister was more than just a Force-sensitive. She was a Master of the Force, too. Palpatine gave that to her. You can't duplicate what she did."
"But—"
"Listen to me, Brie. She did what she thought was best. Accept her gift for what it was: a selfless act of love. If you try to do the same thing, you'll be killed in the process, and it won't bring her back."
Briande looked at her sister's still form. "You can't be sure, Luke. Maybe if I—"
He interrupted. "I can be sure. You can't do it. You don't know how."
Briande looked at him. Comprehension slowly developed in her eyes as she realized that Luke, too, had served as a host for Palpatine. "You know how," she said. "You could show me how."
Luke shook his head. "I didn't share consciousness with him long enough. But even if I could, I wouldn't."
"Please, Luke," she whispered.
"Briande, think a minute. If I could her back, if you could, what would happen? She's a wanted criminal. There's no place to run to. The best she could expect would be life-imprisonment."
"But if I brought her back, we could trade places. With my body as evidence, no one would ever know the difference. She could take my place..."
Luke nodded again. "No doubt. But think again, Briande. You knew her better than anybody. When she brought me back, we touched each other through the Force. For a brief moment, we could sense each other, know what the other was feeling. The strongest emotion I felt from her was regret. She wanted to atone for the lives of all those people who died on Croyus Four, and for your father as well. This was her way of doing it. If she had lived, she would have suffered with guilt for the rest of her life. Let her go, Brie. Don't force her into a punished, tortured existence."
Briande closed her eyes tightly. "I know you're right, Luke, but..."
"I loved her, too, Briande, in a way I can't explain right now. But this is how she wanted it. Don't let her sacrifice be meaningless."
Briande opened her eyes and looked back at her sister's face, at the pleasant, restful expression Brenna wore.
"I guess she's at peace now," she said slowly.
"I can feel it," Luke replied.
"Funny," Briande said. "I think I can, too. But I wish..."
"I know. I do, too. But we can't have everything we wish for." Luke stood up and pulled Briande up with him. "If you can move, let's get out of here. The fleet should be here any time, but I'd rather not take any chances on someone coming to look for your sister and mistaking you for her a second time."
"What about Brenna?"
"We'll take her with us. After her identity's been confirmed, we'll take her back to Dagobah for a proper Jedi funeral."
"No," Briande said, looking at her sister's body. Compassiatos, now gone. "We'll take her back...home. To Kalmyr. We'll bury her beside Ayyris. I think... she'd want that."
Briande thought she heard a faint, familiar voice. She knew she was alone now, except for Luke, but she thought she heard it anyway, a hint of the compassiatos link she had shared with Brenna. It was quite possible that what she heard/felt was a childhood memory, or some wishful imagining, but she wanted to believe that it was not.
Thank you, the unspoken voice said.
"Luke—" Briande began. "Luke, she was a Jedi, wasn't she? In the end, I mean."
"Yes, she was."
"Do you think it's possible that..."
"What?"
Briande shook her head. "Never mind. I guess I'm just tired."
Luke held out his hand, and Briande took it. "Come on," he said. "We have work to do. Even without Palpatine to threaten it, the Republic is still weak. It needs someone to defend it. A new order of Jedi."
Briande smiled. "I know."
"Then, after we get enough Knights trained, then maybe we can think about retiring to Tatooine and raising a few crops."
"Maybe," she said. "But I doubt it."
Luke gave a little laugh. "Yeah. I guess I do, too." He looked at Briande. She was a Jedi. She was beautiful and strong and alive. And he loved her.
Briande squeezed his hand. "We are luminous beings, Luke."
He looked at her, perplexed. It was not a question. "Yes," he replied.
She nodded. Bren, she said silently, thank you. I love him. And I love you, too.
The tickle again. The faint, almost-real thought in her brain. The Force will always be with you, Brie.
And then it was gone.
Briande shot a puzzled look at Luke, but he showed no signs of having heard it. It could be my imagination, she thought.
But she hoped it was not.
(The End)
-----
About This Story:
I originally published this story on fanfiction.net at https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4538834/DeniseaH Some minor editing changes in this version.)
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Star Wars franchise or any of its characters. I have not been paid for any of the stories posted on FanFiction or elsewhere. What you read here are simply the products of my own imagination based on the universe created by George Lucas. Any characters not in the SW universe (e.g., Briande, Brenna, Taj, Marina, etc.) are my own.
This is the "prequel" to my later "Brenna" stories. This is Brenna's mother's "Heroine's Journey" with the primary conflict being whether she could kill someone she loves for the sake of the greater good. Previously she had killed someone else to save the one she loved, against the wishes of the one she loved. Here, she has to kill the one she loves for the greater good, which aligns with the wishes of the LO. Meanwhile, Luke finds his soul-mate, and comes into his own as a teacher. Of course I couldn't kill him off permanently. Hence the original Brenna's sacrifice. I am an admitted hopeless romantic, I do like a lot of angst in my story conflicts, and I love putting my heroes through the wringer. Ergo much melodrama. But I also like a certain degree of humor. The Han/Leia scenes were fun to write—his attempts to grope her in public, for example—and I thought it would be fun to hint that Han as actually born into some form of nobility, whereas Leia was adopted. But because I am a hopeless romantic, Han and Leia had to have their HEA, such as it is, and Luke and Briande. had to have their eventual...albeit temporary...HEA ending. Briande will largely disappear before Briande's and Luke's daughter Brenna can begin her own Heroine's journey, which is what the next four stories are all about. Briande already has found her "sacred feminine." Briande needs to find her balance with the "sacred masculine" to enable her to action. Brenna's journey, on the other hand, incorporates elements from both the "Hero's Journey" and the "Heroine's Journey." Brenna loses, and then rediscovers, her sacred feminine, thus restoring her sacred balance between the masculine and the feminine. (I've been reading a lot about the "sacred masculine" and the "sacred feminine" lately, as well as the "Hero's/Heroine's Journeys," and realizes that a lot of it applies to these stories. Joseph Campbell was a certified misogynist who often contradicted himself, but he had some good ideas. He just failed to see the value of the heroine rather than the hero.
There are a lot of hints about future stories in my cycle in this story. If you want to know specifically where those are, pay particular attention to the "Book of Gifts" that Luke eventually reads. You might also find a subtle reference to Stephen King's Firestarter (a book/movie I enjoyed) in addition to the "Creature Empath" of Brenna's cycle, and an introduction to the healer Jenin from The Face in the Shadows. (If I have one favorite chapter in all my stories, it's the one where Luke teaches Jenin how to heal.
If you go to FanFiction.net, you will notice that "Wedge Antilles" was changed to "Corran Horn" in an impossible attempt of mine to get my stories to align with some of what I was reading in the books that were coming out. I was also working on a story called "Infinity's Gate" to try to get my universe to align with what was going on in the books, but eventually gave that up, as well (but you'll still find a reference to "Infinity's Gate on fanfiction.net). This person was originally meant to be Wedge. I changed it back to Wedge here, and in Skywalker's Legacy, which is who it was always originally meant to be.
And if you like this story, or any of the others, please, please, PLEASE drop me a note via my "Contact" page and let me know. Such notes do wonderful things for my happy place, and help keep the Dark Side at bay. If you don't like my story, whether it's this one or any of the others, well, I would prefer you keep that to yourself. On the other hand, if you have a piece of constructive advice, I'm open to that.
I originally published this story on fanfiction.net at https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4538834/DeniseaH Some minor editing changes in this version.)
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Star Wars franchise or any of its characters. I have not been paid for any of the stories posted on FanFiction or elsewhere. What you read here are simply the products of my own imagination based on the universe created by George Lucas. Any characters not in the SW universe (e.g., Briande, Brenna, Taj, Marina, etc.) are my own.
This is the "prequel" to my later "Brenna" stories. This is Brenna's mother's "Heroine's Journey" with the primary conflict being whether she could kill someone she loves for the sake of the greater good. Previously she had killed someone else to save the one she loved, against the wishes of the one she loved. Here, she has to kill the one she loves for the greater good, which aligns with the wishes of the LO. Meanwhile, Luke finds his soul-mate, and comes into his own as a teacher. Of course I couldn't kill him off permanently. Hence the original Brenna's sacrifice. I am an admitted hopeless romantic, I do like a lot of angst in my story conflicts, and I love putting my heroes through the wringer. Ergo much melodrama. But I also like a certain degree of humor. The Han/Leia scenes were fun to write—his attempts to grope her in public, for example—and I thought it would be fun to hint that Han as actually born into some form of nobility, whereas Leia was adopted. But because I am a hopeless romantic, Han and Leia had to have their HEA, such as it is, and Luke and Briande. had to have their eventual...albeit temporary...HEA ending. Briande will largely disappear before Briande's and Luke's daughter Brenna can begin her own Heroine's journey, which is what the next four stories are all about. Briande already has found her "sacred feminine." Briande needs to find her balance with the "sacred masculine" to enable her to action. Brenna's journey, on the other hand, incorporates elements from both the "Hero's Journey" and the "Heroine's Journey." Brenna loses, and then rediscovers, her sacred feminine, thus restoring her sacred balance between the masculine and the feminine. (I've been reading a lot about the "sacred masculine" and the "sacred feminine" lately, as well as the "Hero's/Heroine's Journeys," and realizes that a lot of it applies to these stories. Joseph Campbell was a certified misogynist who often contradicted himself, but he had some good ideas. He just failed to see the value of the heroine rather than the hero.
There are a lot of hints about future stories in my cycle in this story. If you want to know specifically where those are, pay particular attention to the "Book of Gifts" that Luke eventually reads. You might also find a subtle reference to Stephen King's Firestarter (a book/movie I enjoyed) in addition to the "Creature Empath" of Brenna's cycle, and an introduction to the healer Jenin from The Face in the Shadows. (If I have one favorite chapter in all my stories, it's the one where Luke teaches Jenin how to heal.
If you go to FanFiction.net, you will notice that "Wedge Antilles" was changed to "Corran Horn" in an impossible attempt of mine to get my stories to align with some of what I was reading in the books that were coming out. I was also working on a story called "Infinity's Gate" to try to get my universe to align with what was going on in the books, but eventually gave that up, as well (but you'll still find a reference to "Infinity's Gate on fanfiction.net). This person was originally meant to be Wedge. I changed it back to Wedge here, and in Skywalker's Legacy, which is who it was always originally meant to be.
And if you like this story, or any of the others, please, please, PLEASE drop me a note via my "Contact" page and let me know. Such notes do wonderful things for my happy place, and help keep the Dark Side at bay. If you don't like my story, whether it's this one or any of the others, well, I would prefer you keep that to yourself. On the other hand, if you have a piece of constructive advice, I'm open to that.
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Notes to Self:
Briande still seems too wishy-washy: "Teach me/Don't teach me" etc.--wonder if there's a better way to convey her conflict?
Lots of melodrama, but then the original SW movies had their melodramatic moments. Don't see much way around it.
I really like my "Book of Gifts" little joke, but suspect it will go right over the heads of my readers. Maybe a few readers will get it.
I like my Han/Leia interactions on Derain Two. They would be best together in emergencies, but he would be bored by diplomatic niceties, and she would get annoyed by his lack of decorum. The Corellia scenes might benefit from some re-write. Did modify the Taj reunion to make it clear that the escort and threat to Leia was all a joke.
I did have to make up some excuse why Luke could communicate with the lake monster when he wasn't a Creature Empath, so I decided it would be because of previous contacts with Yoda, etc. The lake monster doesn't bother Brenna or Rupert in Prophecy's Child--nor should it.
Added a "botany" reference to provide a link to Face in the Shadows, and also an explanation for why Briande's father, a Shield, would have failed against Vader. Ch 7.
Fixed some consistency errors present in the original FFN version, such as Briande standing to deliver Luke's death-blow? After all she's gone just through? Ugh. She shouldn't even be able to crawl! Fixed now. Much better.
Formatting doesn't transfer from my Word files to here, and there may be some additional breaks than the ones I caught when I was trying to fix the formatting. My formatting is very problematic in FFN, and sometimes the breaks don't appear at all. Not sure why. I remember trying to fix it back when I was originally posting, but it wasn't working. Good news is, I can fix fit here.
Here are the files that I posted on FFN (probably also as registered with WGA)--didn't realize until later that it was helpful to have a descriptor in the file name in addition to the chapter number:
Briande still seems too wishy-washy: "Teach me/Don't teach me" etc.--wonder if there's a better way to convey her conflict?
Lots of melodrama, but then the original SW movies had their melodramatic moments. Don't see much way around it.
I really like my "Book of Gifts" little joke, but suspect it will go right over the heads of my readers. Maybe a few readers will get it.
I like my Han/Leia interactions on Derain Two. They would be best together in emergencies, but he would be bored by diplomatic niceties, and she would get annoyed by his lack of decorum. The Corellia scenes might benefit from some re-write. Did modify the Taj reunion to make it clear that the escort and threat to Leia was all a joke.
I did have to make up some excuse why Luke could communicate with the lake monster when he wasn't a Creature Empath, so I decided it would be because of previous contacts with Yoda, etc. The lake monster doesn't bother Brenna or Rupert in Prophecy's Child--nor should it.
Added a "botany" reference to provide a link to Face in the Shadows, and also an explanation for why Briande's father, a Shield, would have failed against Vader. Ch 7.
Fixed some consistency errors present in the original FFN version, such as Briande standing to deliver Luke's death-blow? After all she's gone just through? Ugh. She shouldn't even be able to crawl! Fixed now. Much better.
Formatting doesn't transfer from my Word files to here, and there may be some additional breaks than the ones I caught when I was trying to fix the formatting. My formatting is very problematic in FFN, and sometimes the breaks don't appear at all. Not sure why. I remember trying to fix it back when I was originally posting, but it wasn't working. Good news is, I can fix fit here.
Here are the files that I posted on FFN (probably also as registered with WGA)--didn't realize until later that it was helpful to have a descriptor in the file name in addition to the chapter number: