Chapter One

It seemed an anticlimactic end to Wedge Antilles' smuggling and rebel career. I had spent so many years chasing him, in a way I was a little depressed as I answered the call. One of our newest recruits to Corsec, Adson Iving, had broken up a bar brawl downtown, and identified one of the brawlers to be Wedge Antilles. I was skeptical, to say the least. Catching the infamous smuggler and rebel pilot would certainly be one way to start your career with a bang, but I was fairly certain he was jumping the blaster.

Still, any suspicious rebel activity was worth investigating, and no officer knew Wedge Antilles better than me.

The alleged rebels were being held in the iComet's Tail/i cantina. I entered the Comet carefully, noting upturned tables and piles of glass being cleaned up by maintenance droids. Adson was there to greet me, looking very pleased with himself. "Antilles is being held in the back," he informed me, starting to lead the way. "We're holding his friends as well."

I nodded. "You sure it's him?"

"Of course," Adson replied as we reached the room where they were being held. Two of the cantina's guards stood outside the door, and I cocked an eyebrow at Adson.

"You think you've got Antilles and you've only set two guards?"

Adson snorted. "He's too drunk to get anywhere."

I wanted to hit my head against the wall. "Could very well be an act." I palmed the door open, and immediately began scanning the room. The rebels were all young men, looking to be in their early twenties. One, a baby faced brunette, sporting a black eye and split lip, glared defiantly at me and sat back against the bench, folding his arms. I guessed him to be the instigator, but it wasn't his defiant glare that annoyed me. I turned to Adson. "Looks like he could use an icepack, Iving."

"Sir, he's a rebel," Adson said, sounding surprised.

"Allegedly," I reminded the kid. "And that doesn't make him any less sentient. See if they have any at the bar for him."

The young man glared harder at me, and I turned my attention to the man seated next to him. His companion was blonde, with a dour expression on his face, his eyes rolled up toward the ceiling like he feared it might fall on him.

Before he left for the ice, Adson felt the need to goad Antilles. "Perhaps you remember Captain Hal Horn?" he asked, rather smug.

I looked immediately toward where he was looking, recognizing Antilles instantly. His brown eyes were far too clear to be as drunk as Adson thought, (I fear for the future of Corsec). Still, he clumsily spread his hands and his speech was slurred. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Antilles turned his gaze to me, and what I saw in his eyes caused me to pause. I detected distinct relief there, shadowed only slightly with fear. I wondered if I'd grown soft in my age. Most smugglers were certainly not happy to see me, particularly if I were there to positively identify them. Then another, darker thought crossed my mind. Was he relieved to see me because I was, perhaps, one of the last just men working for Corsec?

Movement next to him caught my eye, as the man sitting next to him shifted his weight on the bench. My blood ran cold. The young man's hair was dyed a deep brown, and though he now had a well trimmed goatee, he was unmistakably my son, Corran. Noticing he had my attention, he snapped his posture upright, and I felt my heart sink in my chest. There had to be a million reasons why my son would be cavorting around with rebels, but all of them would have to lead to one conclusion: he was one of them.

Now you may find my response to be somewhat unprofessional, but I have given up so much for a government that I do not believe in, hoping to at least keep my own home-world safe. My life and well being are worth the cost, but my son's, however, is not.

Miraculously, I managed to find my voice, and raise an eyebrow to Adson. "That's not Antilles."

Adson choked. "What?"

"For one thing, Antilles is a couple centimeters shorter," I said, jabbing my thumb at Antilles. "And a hell of a lot smarter."

"Oh," Adson said, severely disappointed.

I rested my hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you release them to me? I'll make sure they get home alright without causing any accidents, or starting more bar fights," I looked pointedly at the one with a black eye.

Adson nodded dejectedly.

"Perhaps it would be best to issue an apology to this young man," I suggested as an afterthought. "Calling any one a rebel is a serious accusation. If it had gone any further, it could have been a permanent black mark on his record."

"But..." Adson began, then let his protest trail off at a stern look from me. "Sorry."

"Thank you," I said, patting his back, and excusing him to leave.

As soon as the door closed behind Adson, I turned my full attention to Corran, who offered me a half, sheepish smile. "Hey, dad."

If anyone had told me an hour ago that I would be harboring five rebels in my apartment, I would have laughed in their face. The ride there was mercifully silent, aside from Babyface whispering to Corran if I was really his dad. Despite my mood, I found myself smiling at that. It made me feel like I was escorting home rebellious teenagers, who'd been caught out after curfew or creating general mischief on the streets. If only it were that simple.

I did not question or regret saving my son's life here. What I idid/i regret was the necessity to lie in order to do so. The right thing to do now would be to turn in my resignation as quickly as possible; I'd allowed personal feelings to possibly jeopardize planetary security, and I couldn't be trusted to not do it again.

I keep a three bedroom apartment in downtown Coronet City, much too large for a bachelor like me, but I have high hopes of my son marrying and coming to visit me with his family. Never thought I'd be using it to accommodate my son and his rebel friends. I still wasn't much for talking when I led them inside, and one of the first things I did was pull out a nerf steak for Babyface's eye. The other men seemed to be taking their cue from Antilles, who was regarding me with intense curiosity. Had he really thought I could turn my own son in? Or find a way to pardon Corran, but not them?

Corran joined me in the kitchen as I attempted to prepare snacks and drinks for my 'guests'. When in doubt, always be the gracious host. "You seem to have missed the Imperial Navy, Corran." I'd been admittedly disappointed when I learned that Corran wished to quit Corsec in order to join the navy. But after I'd been shot last year, nearly dying from it, and the perps walked free, he'd lost his faith in the system.

My son winced. "If Corsec is turning corrupt, the navy is worse."

I started chopping a piece of selerae. "So long as good men keep leaving, it will only grow worse."

"They're all joining the rebellion," Corran said softly, his tone defiant. "There's only so much we can do when the central government itself is corrupt. What iI'm/i doing is finally fighting for a cause I can believe in." He gripped my arm. "Father, we can win."

There comes a time in every parent's life where you find yourself searching desperately for the child you raised, only to find them forever replaced by the man standing in front of you. I felt like I hardly knew my son any more, and wondered when he'd started having hostile thoughts toward the Empire. It's not that I support the Empire, I don't. My true father died fighting it, and as a Jedi Knight, I'd fought hard against it. The war though took a turn for the worse, and out of love for my father, Rostek Horn took my motehr for his wife, and me for his son, erasing and rewriting every record that existed on Valin Halcyon. It is questionable to this day whether or not I actually existed. In order to protect my new family, I'd had to give up my Jedi heritage, relinquish my use of th Force, and join the Empireand offer up my support. Everything I have done for the Empire, I have done for my family.

And now the most important person in my life had turned away from it, and everything I do for the Empire now would hurt him.

It's amazing the kind of predicaments children manage to get their parents in.

Corran was giving me the kind of pleading look that I used to think was cute when he was a child, annoying as a teenager, and now very persuasive as an adult. I cleared my throat. "What do you do for them?"

"I fly for Rogue Squadron," Corran answered, clearly proud, but hurt I hadn't automatically offered to join the rebellion with him. "It's an elite group that takes missions other fighter squadrons can't."

I was proud too. I always loved to see Corran succeed. Somehow, his successes meant more to me than my own, and his failures far more painful. Having noticed how the men seemed to defer to Antilles, I asked, "Is Antilles Commander?"

Corran shook his head. "He's second to Luke Skywalker, who formed the squadron. But Luke's disappeared for the moment, so Wedge's Acting."

I nearly chopped my finger. Skywalker was a name I hadn't heard in decades, and the sound of it sent a chill up my spine. "I take it this...Luke, is a good pilot?"

"Good?" Corran coughed. "He's one of the best I've ever seen. When I tried out for the squadron, Wedge told me I was good, but I was no Luke Skywalker. He destroyed the Death Star in his first battle."

That certainly pointed toward a relation to Anakin. It was rumored that his wife had been pregnant when she died, but perhaps I was misinformed. I was a little surprised Corran took it in stride. My son was practically born with a fighter pilot's ego. "You'll catch up to him."

Corran shrugged. "Probably as much as anyone can with a Jedi."

In the interest of keeping my fingers intact, I put the knife down. "He's admitted to this?"

"Yes," Corran answered, studying me carefully. "There's an awfully big price on his head. Darth Vader is apparently obsessed with him."

"I imagine so," I mused thoughtfully. I was immensely curious as to who could have possibly trained Luke. The first person I thought of was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Could he possibly still be alive? No...surely Corran would have mentioned him as well. Somehow, a partially trained Jedi with as high a potential as Anakin's son would have didn't settle well with me. I decided to change the subject before Corran would be able to tell exactly how much the thought disturbed me. "Who're your friends?" I asked, cocking my head toward the living room where Wedge and the other men had settled.

"The one with a black eye is Wes Janson, the blond's Hobbie, and the other brunette's Tycho Celchu," Corran answered, glancing toward the living room. "We're on a supply run here." He took a deep breath, and gave me an uncertain look. "We need to leave tomorrow."

I returned to chopping the vegetable. "I see."

Corran tilted his head, taking a new tactic. "You can't tell me you believe in the Empire."

No, I really couldn't. But, I was feeling unreasonably stubborn, half of it having to do with the fact that I had very nearly lost my only son. "I believe in upholding the law."

"Even if it is one you can't believe in any more?" Corran asked, folding his arms. "One that justifies the destruction of entire worlds? You think Palpatine would have stopped with Alderaan? Corellia could have been next."

Now that cut deeply. In all honesty, I had very nearly defected straight after the destruction of Alderaan, but I'd still had my family to protect. I studied Corran carefully, noting the stubborn set of his jaw and flash of angry disbelief in his eyes. He reminded me very much of Nyche at that moment, and whenever he managed to do ithat/i, he very nearly always won his case. Still..it certainly needed more thought. "We'll see."