Tyranny Reborn

A/N: Replies at the bottom...

And because I forgot to mention it earlier, each chapter takes place approximately 1 month after the previous one.

Chapter 2

THE darkness stretched on into eternity. It was an endless night, an infinite expanse of black broken only by the blanket of life-giving stars which sparkled and twinkled like billions of tiny jewels. And around one of those glittering balls of plasma orbited a planet which gleamed as brightly as any stellar object.

Coruscant.

Seen from orbit, it almost resembled a star itself. Thousands of ships circled the planet like tiny orbiting satellites. Most were relatively small, freighters or personnel transports, but some stretched out for kilometers, dominating their smaller cousins and bristling with enough firepower to destroy a minor planet. It was a sign of how things had changed – an indication of the mood that had infected the mighty world.

For the Republic had gone to war.

It was not a new state of affairs for the government. Decades earlier, the Republic had marched to war at the behest of a chancellor who was secretly a Sith Lord. Under his rule, the Republic became an Empire and Coruscant basked in his dark glory. When he fell, lesser men and women clung to the planet as if they could emulate his might by controlling what had once been his seat of power. At long last, the Republic reclaimed the world from tyrants and dictators, raising its standard once more in the name of peace and justice. A new chancellor was elected, one who had labored long and hard to restore freedom and democracy to the galaxy against the Sith Lord who had become an emperor.

And now, she too had been struck down.

To many, it seemed as the though the galaxy had changed, had become even harsher than it had been during the reign of the tyrannical Sith Lord. Not since the Clone Wars had a Coruscanti leader been so directly affected by the conflagration that engulfed the rest of the galaxy while on Coruscant. To the pessimists though, it was merely another day, no different than any other and only the names had changed. Unconcerned about the events that threatened to change the balance of galactic power, these people continued on with their business.

To Mara, it felt like coming home.

She had arrived only moments earlier, dropping out of lightspeed at the very edge of the system. The craft she piloted was a battered YT-2400 light freighter purchased almost a year earlier with the severance package received from Talon Karrde when she left his organization. Vaguely ellipsoid in shape, the location of the cockpit compartment on the starboard side of the rounded hull gave the craft a lopsided, almost unbalanced appearance, but the growling rumble of the sublight engines and the grace with which the ship maneuvered belied any concerns over the ship's abilities. The actual name of the craft had been carefully selected to reflect the way Mara felt about life in the wake of Wayland.

It was, after all, her Second Chance.

With a resigned expression on her face, she silently groaned as she studied the volume of craft in orbit around Coruscant as the Chance raced toward the planet. Ever the hub of traffic, the capital of the New Republic seemed no different from the Imperial Center Mara knew from her youth, despite the current war footing. Or perhaps, she mused, the war footing was why it suddenly seemed no different.

Mara sighed at the maudlin direction her thoughts had abruptly taken. She was exhausted, bored and so ready to get off of the ship that had become her personal prison her hands were shaking. Two months had passed since she last set foot on Coruscant, sixty long days with only a wildly eccentric astromech and dark memories of events and times she would like to forget as company. More than anything else, she was looking forward to breathing air that hadn't been recycled, eating a meal that didn't come from a ration pack, taking a hot bath using real water and, if she was very lucky, tracking down the one real friend she had on the planet for some conversation and understanding.

At that thought, Mara realized she was smiling wistfully and schooled her features to impassiveness, all the while wondering at the change that had come over her. Not two years past, she would have killed someone for daring to suggest Luke Skywalker was anything but a traitor who deserved a long and gruesome death, yet here she was, so fervently looking forward to seeing him in person it nearly made her sick. It was strange, she mused, wondering at the change in herself, how things could become so different so quickly.

Rubbing her temples in a vain effort to ward off an impending headache, Mara found herself instinctively reaching out with the Force, seeking that most intimate of connections with the man who had, against all odds, become her best friend. A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes as she stretched out with her mind, reminding her yet again she was not fully healed from the psychic damage Luke had only begun to repair in the weeks and months after Wayland. Fury at Palpatine's depredations pushed at her control, but she suppressed it and focused on her senses. Disappointment suddenly swelled up within her.

Luke wasn't on Coruscant.

She could still sense his sister's presence, though it was scattered and weak as befit someone who was recovering from injuries and the Force signatures of the Solo twins pulsed and flared like tiny novas. To Mara's surprise, the two children reached back to her, their clumsy psychic touches joyful, mischievous and painfully innocent. When she tried to withdraw into herself, they pursued, so desperately eager to feel someone's mindtouch that it was almost excruciating for someone as tainted by darkness as Mara. She felt her eyes water and carefully closed off her connection, much to their clear disappointment.

"Damn you, Skywalker," she muttered as she tried to regain her equilibrium. This was all his fault. A year ago, she wouldn't have cared enough to gently ease away from the mental connection with the twins and would have simply severed the contact, regardless of the pain it might have caused them. A year ago, she wouldn't be wiping her eyes and attempting to hide any evidence of what that brief mental touch had done to her.

A year ago, she wouldn't be sitting here, trying and failing to hate a man for daring to bring light back into the darkness that had been her life.

A moment later, Mara began to frown as the implication of what she had learned sank in. Luke wasn't on Coruscant. Why not? His sister was still incapacitated according to the news reports Mara had watched, so why wasn't Skywalker still on-planet? It wasn't like him to leave Leia when she needed him the most. Her stomach sank as a thought occurred to her.

"Kriff," Mara murmured to herself. It was a habit she'd picked up during the long, lonely trip to Elrood, though she'd barely noticed. "I hope it wasn't over me." The tension between the two Skywalkers had been palpable in the year since Wayland, and Mara knew Luke's sister was afraid for his safety. It was entirely understandable; only a fool – or a Skywalker, Mara thought with an amused smile – would voluntarily spend great amounts of time with one's assassin. Most of Coruscant, including Leia it seemed, suspected Mara was sleeping with Luke, a belief neither of them had gone to great lengths to correct. It was, after all, much easier to let people think that than to tell them the truth.

The comm. crackled with an incoming signal and Mara activated it without hesitation. Instantly, a uniformed figure appeared on the small vid-screen, expression bored but still attentive.

"We have you on our screens now," the sub-lieutenant announced. He was a Lethan Twi'lek, and the deep scarlet color of his skin was such a striking hue which instantly brought to mind Alderaanian roses. Mara could not recall having seen a Lethan in person before and, for a moment, she marveled at the infinite diversity of the universe before shaking herself clear of the unusual thoughts. What the hellwas happening to her? "Identify yourself," the space traffic controller stated.

"Free trader Step of Two," Mara replied calmly, using one of the multiple false transponder IDs she possessed. "Celina Marniss commanding." She was unconcerned about being identified visually; one of the first upgrades she had installed for the Chance was a pattern scrambler for her communications system. The person receiving a transmission from her would see a dark-eyed brunette who bore only a superficial resemblance to Mara. Even the voice pattern the sub-lieutenant heard was different than the one the Republic had on record for her. In her line of work, it was better to take such precautions, just in case.

"Stand by," the Twi'lek ordered. A long moment passed before he spoke again. "You are cleared for approach, Step of Two. Docking approach Thesh Aurek is approved. Uploading flight path now." His image vanished from the screen and was instantly replaced by a stream of data. Mara gave it a glance and cursed softly; berthing rates had tripled in the last two months. She silently wrote off the maneuvering upgrade she'd wanted to install as she selected the cheapest platform available and arranged for payment transfer.

Nearly two hours passed before she finally landed and Mara spent that time catching up on current events via the widestream subspace broadcast of Coruscant's local news. It had been distressing how much had changed while she was incommunicado on the ass end of civilized space; until a week ago, she hadn't even heard about Mon Mothma's assassination or the Republic's resumption of hostilities with the remnants of the Empire. The Senate's rush to elect Borsk Fey'lya as chancellor still left a foul taste in her mouth, especially since Organa-Solo was technically next in line of succession, but Mara barely understood how the New Republic functioned on good days so she presumed it was simply something beyond her comprehension.

"Alright, Artoo," she said once they were down and powered down. "Let's get started on the post-flight checklist. The port stabilizer felt a little loose when we were coming in." The astromech's trilling response was decidedly indignant as if he was insulted by her telling him how to do his job and Mara fought to keep from smiling. In the sixty days since she'd departed Coruscant, she'd grown so accustomed to Skywalker's droid she could no longer imagine operating the ship without him. At first, she'd merely tolerated him, but by the second month, she'd learned how dependable, useful and flat out creative he was; in her less than humble opinion, Artoo Detoo was worth any five crewmen.

It still bothered her a little that she thought of the droid as 'he' now.

Gritting her teeth, Mara began the appropriate paperwork necessary to begin offloading her cargo, knowing that if she didn't start it now, she'd put it off until it was already overdue. She hated this part of the job, hated how much time it required and how much red tape she had to deal with. It was the one thing never mentioned when people talked about the so-called romantic life of a free trader and for good reason: no sane being would volunteer for this part of the job.

The proximity alert sounded several minutes into the paperwork and Mara glanced up in surprise. As far as she knew, no one knew she had arrived on-planet and, as a matter of principle, the local dockworkers never contacted a ship first. With a flick of her wrist, she activated the small comm.-screen and panned the image around for a moment before locating her unannounced visitor. He was standing before the access port leading to the dock proper, an unremarkable-looking hooded cloak concealing his identity. Barely a meter and a half tall, he was stocky without being fat and stood so perfectly still he might as well have been a statue. Mara recognized his species immediately.

He was a Noghri.

Her stomach tightened and she rose to her feet, tossing the unfinished paperwork into the empty co-pilot's seat as she did. There could be only one reason why a Noghri would come looking for her and Mara felt a sudden flash of fear. What if something had happened to Luke? Who could help her then? Focus on the now, she reminded herself as she made her to the landing ramp.

"Lady Jade," the Noghri said by way of greeting as she emerged from the Second Chance. He bowed his head slightly but didn't explain how he had known where she would be landing. "Your presence is requested at the home of Lady Solo."

"Why?" Mara asked, not bothering to question his use of Solo instead of Vader. After having discovered the full extent of Vader's deception, the Noghri had expunged the Sith Lord's name from all of their official records. For reasons Mara didn't quite comprehend, they still felt they owed the Solo/Skywalker family a debt of honor, but no longer referred to Vader in any way.

"I am only the messenger, Lady Jade," the Noghri hissed. "It involves Jedi Skywalker."

"Give me a minute to lock up," Mara said instantly.

The instant he saw her approach, Han Solo felt something akin to relief well up within his chest.

It was an indication of how worried he was over his missing brother-in-law that the sight of the former Emperor's Hand didn't immediately cause his shooting hand to twitch, especially since Han's children were playing on the floor in front of him and his wife was sleeping the sleep of the heavily medicated only meters away. If he was honest though, he had stopped seeing Jade as a threat to his family months ago, right about the time he discovered she was living in Luke's spare bedroom while on-planet. Han still didn't understand the unusual relationship between Luke and the ex-assassin – they seemed more than friends, yet didn't appear to be lovers – but he'd long since given up trying to figure out the Skywalkers. Nothing they did ever made sense anyway.

"Solo," she greeted, emerald eyes cool as she gave the wide receiving room a quick once-over. She nodded to Chewbacca, but said nothing to the Wookiee. Her hand never strayed far from the lightsaber hanging at her waist, a lightsaber Han instantly recognized as the one Luke had given her.

"Maw-ra!" Jaina abruptly exclaimed and began struggling to stand. Han blinked in mild shock and exchanged a startled look with Chewie; as far as he knew, Jade had barely had any contact with the twins since saving their lives when they were still newborns. There was no way either of them should even recognize her. Unless it's a Force thing, Solo realized, once again slapped in the face by the reality of what his children were going to be capable of. To say it was overwhelming was an understatement of galactic proportions.

From her expression, the former Emperor's Hand looked even more uncomfortable with the attention she was receiving from the Solo twins than Han was in seeing it. If he didn't know better, he would almost wager she was on the verge of bolting when Jacen began repeating his sister's call of 'Maw-ra', going to far as to add 'up' to the statement. Solo would have laughed at any other time.

"You appear to have some fans," he remarked, watching with no small amount of pride as both of the twins managed to stagger to their feet, lurching like little drunks as they tried to balance on legs still unsuited for walking. Jade shifted awkwardly where she stood, then seemed to barely prevent herself from lunging forward to catch Jaina when the eldest twin fell onto her butt. Resolutely, Han's firstborn started clambering back up, undaunted by her uncooperative legs.

"Is there a reason I'm here?" the ex-assassin demanded, still eyeing the two children as if they were about to sprout multiple heads or spontaneously implode. Jacen was already staggering toward her, chanting 'Maw-ra up!' the entire time.

"I don't know how up to date you are with current events," Han began, carefully controlling the urge to laugh as his son reached Jade's leg and started clinging to it while still pleading to be picked up by their redheaded visitor. Not to be outdone, Jaina stumbled forward herself, latching on to the other leg. "But Luke is missing."

"And you want me to find him," Jade guessed. Her eyes narrowed. "I was under the impression your wife doesn't trust me," she remarked and Han flinched slightly.

"Luke trusts you and that trumps everything else," he said, hoping she would drop it. Naturally, she didn't.

"This is your idea, isn't it?" she asked. "Your wife doesn't know."

"He left Coruscant after a couple of run-ins with Fey'lya," Han revealed, knowing that by ignoring her question he was confirming it as fact. Damned Jedi and their damned Jedi insight. "He said he was heading back to the dig-site on Ossus to pick up some things he left behind but never made it." Solo shrugged. "I guess he meant Artoo."

"Artoo is with me," Jade announced, her wide eyes still riveted on the twins. Jaina was still begging to be picked up, but Jacen had become more interested in the boot he was clutching.

"Is he now?" Solo murmured. He paused for a moment, wondering if he could think of a time where Luke had entrusted anyone but his sister with Artoo's well-being.

"Yes," the ex-assassin said flatly, her eyes darting toward the closed door which led to the bedroom. She winced for some reason, and then turned her full attention back to Han. "How is your wife, by the way?" Jade asked.

"Recovering," Han replied grimly. "She took a blaster shot to the spine when Mothma was murdered," he revealed, grimacing at the swell of panicked fear which always accompanied thoughts of how close Leia had come to dying because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And she wonders why I don't want her to run for chancellor! "The medics got to her in time and she should make a full recovery," he finished.

"That's … good news," the ex-Emperor's Hand declared, so clearly uncomfortable with expressing compassion that Solo halfway expected her head to explode. Jacen had collapsed into a seated position with one leg bent at an awkward-looking angle and started pulling on one of the straps of Jade's left boot. Han took pity on the woman.

"I can pay you two thousand now," he offered, but she waved it off.

"Cover my docking expenses," Jade answered, "resupply costs and arrange for a departure clearance in two hours. Keep the rest of your money." She glanced down. "And get these kri … get these kids off of my legs. I'll take care of the rest."

Han had to laugh.

Jade was out the door mere minutes later and Han watched her depart with mounting trepidation. When she woke, Leia would be furious he had sought the ex-assassin's aid. He mentally shrugged as he fought back a sigh of frustration; it wasn't like he didn't already have enough to argue about with his wife.

"Are you sure about this?" Chewbacca rumbled, his concern for Luke causing his words to come out accusing. Han gave him a sour look.

"Am I sure?" he asked, suddenly incredulous. "This was your idea!"

She had a good idea where to start looking.

From the Solo residence, Mara took the first available speeder taxi to Skywalker's apartment, wincing slightly at the exorbitant rates being charged for such a relatively short distance. During the ten minute trip, she used her comlink and contacted Artoo who had remained on her ship. Without telling the droid why, she instructed him to compile a list of systems between Coruscant and Ossus controlled by or sympathetic to the Empire and then send the list to Luke's home computer. The astromech's resigned whistles only served to remind her just how many possible planets fit those parameters.

At the same time, she used her hand-held data-comp to begin searching the holonet for recent Skywalker news. Within moments, Mara had identified what Solo meant by 'run-ins with Fey'lya'. The same day that Luke had returned to Coruscant, Leia's condition had been upgraded to 'critical but stable' and Fey'lya, displaying the political acumen Bothans were known for, ambushed Skywalker outside the medical facility with the good news.

Naturally, there just happened to be a number of holo-reporters present.

Luke, exhausted from a long hyperspace trip and visibly worried over his sister, reacted far better than Mara would have in the same situation. As politely as possible, he thanked the Bothan senator and then calmly asked that the reporters give his family some space to deal with this difficult situation. Fey'lya made a great show of agreeing…

And then promptly ambushed Skywalker again four days later.

This time, it was following the historic vote in the Senate which named the Bothan interim Chancellor while Organa-Solo was incapacitated, an election which took place despite Fey'lya's public claims of disinterest for the position. The second ambush was clearly an attempt to capitalize on Luke's popularity among the citizens of the Republic in the wake of Fey'lya's vow to bring what remained of the Empire to justice for their heinous crime in the name of the martyred Mon Mothma. To the Bothan's surprise, Skywalker didn't cooperate.

"I am a Jedi Knight," Luke told the holo-reporters outside the medcenter, fury in his eyes over being used for political purposes, "and as such, have no stake in this fight, particularly in light of the fact that there is no proof the Empire was behind this act of barbaric terrorism." He had then pinned Fey'lya with a stare so cold it made Mara shiver even though it was a weeks-old recording. "I have little doubt the Senate will act in the best interests of justice," he stated flatly. "But I must admit to some discomfort that the interim leadership of the Senate is urging pre-emptive action. For the first time in the history of the New Republic, we appear to be the aggressors. I cannot and will not be a party to such an act."

Needless to say, those comments didn't go over well with Fey'lya.

The taxi slid to a stop outside Skywalker's apartment and Mara quickly climbed out, her mind racing. Would Fey'lya dare to move against someone as well known and as popular as Luke Skywalker? The notion seemed unlikely at best; whatever else he was, the Bothan was a consummate politician and would do his level best to avoid getting his hands dirty, especially now that he was at the pinnacle of political power in the Republic. With the spat between him and Skywalker now public knowledge, it would be suicide to make a move against Luke, regardless of how well his fingerprints had been hidden. No, Mara mused, it seemed more probable that, if someone had moved against Luke, it was more likely an enemy of Fey'lya's who wanted to see him fall.

A flicker in the Force caused her to hesitate as Mara neared the door to the apartment and she pushed to extend her awareness. There was someone inside already, someone waiting for her.

"Trying to sneak up on me is a good way to get killed," she announced as she entered the apartment. A soft hissing laugh answered her as the Noghri she recalled from earlier stepped out of the shadows. Mara narrowed her eyes, concentrated on enhancing her short-term memory to identify her guest, and then spoke once more. "What do you want, Khabarakh?" she demanded.

"You know me?" He sounded surprised, though Mara couldn't figure out why.

"You'll find I'm full of surprises," she replied calmly. He gave her that hissing laugh once more.

"Just so," the Noghri remarked before straightening to his full but still inconsiderable height. "You plan to seek Jedi Skywalker," Khabarakh stated. "We wish to accompany."

"Is that a fact?"

"A debt is owed to the Skywalker name," the Noghri growled. "My brothers and I would repay that debt."

Mara opened her mouth to deny the request – she always did her best work alone – but suddenly hesitated and bit her lip in thought instead. Her instincts were telling her there was more going on than appeared and, try as she might, she found herself unable to tell Khabarakh no. Was her pride more important than Skywalker's safety? Was she willing to take the chance that the Noghri would learn her secrets, secrets only Luke and Artoo knew? She inhaled slowly, held it for exactly five seconds and then exhaled, pushing away her doubts and insecurities as she tried to center herself. Trust your instincts, an inner voice whispered to her.

She tried to ignore how much that voice sounded like Skywalker.

"A team of four," Mara decided. "Standard retrieval squad load-out, but replace the sniffer with a medic." Khabarakh blinked and she could feel his surprise at her words. He made no comment for which she was grateful; after all, she didn't know how to explain she had no idea what a 'sniffer' was, only that the word had come to mind. "All four need to be capable of shipboard duties," Mara continued. "I'll expect your team to carry their weight while aboard."

"It shall be as you say, Lady Jade," the Noghri replied. Mara frowned.

"That's another thing," she added. "My title is captain, not lady." She crossed her arms. "And make sure your team knows I'm in charge. If I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed. Otherwise, I'll ditch your ass on some rimworld and carry on without you. Understood?"

"I understand … Captain." The emphasis on her title was so subtle she nearly missed it. Good, Mara reflected. Khabarakh wasn't entirely humorless. That would make dealing with him easier.

"You have one hour to get your team ready," Mara declared, even though she suspected the Noghri wouldn't need an hour. Knowing them, they were already camped outside the Chance, waiting for word from Khabarakh that it was time to move.

As soon as the Noghri was gone, Mara turned her attention to the apartment. A flashing light on the holocom transceiver indicated a waiting message and she activated it at once. To her surprise, it wasn't Artoo but rather a recorded message of Luke.

"Mara," the holo said in greeting, "I hope this finds you well. If you are watching this, then I obviously haven't returned to Coruscant." An expression of bafflement crossed his face. "I am unsure about my destination, only that the Force is willing me into action and I must obey its call." Luke's image sighed. "I would urge you against seeking me out, but that would be a waste of breath," he remarked sardonically.

"Got that right," Mara muttered.

"I look forward to seeing you again," the holo continued. "When next we meet," he began.

"Everything will be different," Mara finished with him. It had been one of the last things he had said to her before she lifted off from Coruscant two months earlier and even then had the ring of prophecy to it. She shivered, though she wasn't cold.

"May the Force be with you," Luke's image said before winking out.

Mara stood quietly before the holocom, then played the message a second time, paying close attention to Skywalker's mannerisms as he spoke. Nothing seemed out of place that she could tell, so she doubted he had been coerced into recording it. A tiny smile crossed her lips at the presence of the beard on his face and she wondered if he had grown it because of an offhand remark she'd made about preferring men with facial hair. Just as quickly as the notion occurred to her, she discarded it at ridiculous. Why should he care what she thought? And more importantly, why should she care if he'd grown a beard? She could almost imagine him laughing at her.

Get out of my head, Skywalker, she silently addressed her absent friend who had seemingly taken up permanent residence there.

Mara spent the next few minutes searching the apartment for any sign of a struggle or concealed clues Skywalker might have left for her. When that turned up nothing, she briefly glanced over the list of systems Artoo had sent her, groaning at the sheer number of possibilities. It would take decades to check all of them, so she needed to narrow the parameters somehow. Once again, Luke's voice seemed to echo in her ear though she knew it was her imagination.

A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, whispered the ghostly memory, and Mara exhaled softly, her eyes studying the meditation mat Luke so often used. She bit her lip and frowned; could she do it? She'd never intentionally tried to farsee on her own before. Skywalker had always been there to help when her control wavered or when she started to lose her way. How would she know what to do? As if response, another of Luke's lessons resurfaced.

You will know ... when you are calm, at peace, passive.

"Fine," Mara snapped at the imaginary voice, annoyed that Skywalker could irritate her even when absent. "I can do calm. Not so sure about passive though." Once again, she could almost hear his amused laughter.

She raided the kitchen for a meal that didn't involve ration bars and then indulged herself with the bliss of a shower using actual water before seating herself on the meditation mat. For one brief, ridiculous moment, she had the thought that the mat felt like Skywalker, as if his very presence had been burned into its fibers, but she pushed the silly notion out of her mind. I can do this, Mara told herself as she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. I will do this…

The Force rushed into her like a tidal wave of pure awareness, causing her to wince in pain as it slammed into her still recovering psyche. A sensation of displacement struck her, as if she were in two places at the same time, and Mara grit her teeth against the discomfort which always accompanied intensive use of her birthright. If she weren't so preoccupied on maintaining her control, she would hate Palpatine all over again for what he had done to her.

In the wake of Wayland, Skywalker had learned of Mara's inability to access the full extent of her abilities which ultimately led to his discovery of a psychic inhibitor placed within her mind, a mental impediment which Mara hadn't even been aware of. According to his research, this mental barrier was an ancient Sith technique dating back to at least the time of Exar Kun and Darth Revan some four thousand years ago. Developed in an era where internecine warfare among the Sith was at an all-time high, it allowed a master to control his apprentice by severely limiting what the student could do with the Force. Historically, the apprentice often turned on the master as soon as he or she learned to defeat this inhibitor. In some documented instances, this linkage allowed a Sith master to speak to his apprentice over incalculable distances, an ability Mara had taken for granted with her former master.

As she forced her perceptions beyond the limitations of her flesh, Mara felt the Sith inhibitor compress like an painful mental vise. In many ways, it reminded her of a balloon – the harder she pushed, the more it would expand to prevent her from accessing her full potential. It was frustrating that, in the most important way, she was crippled – like a bird with a broken wing or a quadruped with a fractured leg. Skywalker had managed to lessen the mental blockage in the year since Wayland, slowly siphoning it away from her mind and gradually returning to her the gift that was her birthright, but Mara hadn't fully tested herself against the remnants which still remained. Today, however, she ignored the pain, paid no attention to the horrific pounding in her head, and pushed.

The inhibitor trembled as she hurled her will upon it, weakened, and then burst like an overfilled balloon.

Her breath caught as future events suddenly assaulted her perceptions like a tsunami of insight. Luke, standing atop a sky platform against the backdrop of a towering city with twin lightsabers in hand, one red and one green; Solo donning a uniform, his face falling into shadow as he did; Organa-Solo wearing a dark violet hood and robe which seemed tantalizingly familiar; a brown-haired man Mara vaguely recognized as one of the Rogues wielding a silver-bladed lightsaber against an unseen foe; a pair of children she suspected to be older versions of the Solo twins sobbing and clinging to one another as fire and shadow rose up around them; a filthy boy with raven-black hair staring at his bloody hands and weeping; yellow eyes which were at once unforgettable and utterly foreign to her; the rhythmic hiss of a respirator which reminded her of Vader yet at the same time didn't; a gloved hand reaching out toward her…

It was too much. A thousand images flashed across her mind's eye in the same moment, overwhelming her fragile control and sending her spiraling toward complete oblivion. She couldn't remember her name, couldn't focus on anything but the raging torrent of pain and pleasure that thundered through the fractured remnants of the psychic inhibitor that still stretched over her mind, perverting her gifts and tainting her soul. As she trembled on the brink of unconsciousness, she heard laughter, a sinister cackle which was all too familiar and she fought against the darkness which sought to swallow her soul. She would not be his slave again, would not let his evil affect her from beyond the grave, would not let this monster destroy her. Not again. Not after all having just put her life back together. She fumbled toward control, struggled against the overwhelming urge to just give in and let the emptiness take her. As if in response to her distress, twin pulsars of light seemed to abruptly flare up in the far distance, burning away some of the bitterness which clung to her mind and she reached out to them, desperate for the aid they were unconsciously providing.

With a gasp, she tore herself free. Mara found herself face down on the floor, breath coming in ragged gasps and every muscle in her body trembling. Tears sprang from her eyes but she didn't have the strength to wipe them away. She had no idea how much time had elapsed since she had closed her eyes.

"Well," she muttered to herself an eternity later, "that was unpleasant." Inhaling slowly, Mara slowly forced herself back to her feet, cursing softly at her sweat-drenched clothes. Clearly, another shower was in order. She glanced at the wall chronometer and grunted; an hour had lapsed since she began meditating.

The realization something had changed within her was impossible to ignore. Everything seemed sharper, more real than previously, but Mara didn't allow herself to believe the psychic inhibitor was actually gone. There had been times before in the last year when she and Skywalker thought it was destroyed – the first time, for example, some four weeks after Wayland when both of them passed out on her floor and woke up the following morning – but the damned thing always seemed to gradually return over time. Still, it would be a lie if she didn't admit she hoped it was finally gone.

She could still sense the powerful Force signatures which had come to her aid in her moment of need and fought back a smile as she finally recognized the Solo twins. What is it with Skywalkers and trying to save my soul? Mara wondered with bemusement. She let herself reciprocate their mental touch and then winced at the jubilant giddiness that seemed to radiate from the two. Making a note to get the twins something special in the near future – she almost laughed at the mental image of the children wearing wrist holsters with functioning hold-out blasters on their chubby arms – Mara staggered to Luke's personal computer and sank down into the chair before it, grimacing at how rubbery the muscles in her legs felt.

The star charts that Artoo had uploaded were still on the screen, mocking her with the sheer number of systems that fit her profile, but Mara refused to despair. Instead, she closed her eyes, reaching inward with the Force to enhance her short-term memory. It was one of the skills she'd be taught during her time as the Emperor's Hand and had been invaluable during her career. Ignoring all of the other possible future events that had flashed before her mind's eye, she concentrated on Luke and the dire situation he appeared to be in.

His Jedi uniform was torn, ripped and burned in dozens of places, and the exhaustion on his face seemed to age him twenty years. Though he held a red-bladed saber in his cybernetic hand, she could tell there was something wrong with the prosthesis. Shadowy figures surrounded him, all armed with scarlet lightsabers, but their faces were hazy and indistinct. In the background, Mara could see towering skyscrapers stretching out in all directions for dozens of kilometers. It almost looked like Coruscant, but on a smaller scale. Decay seemed to hang off of the buildings like mold and the orangish-yellow star was mostly hidden by pollution and fog. Eyes still closed, Mara let the Force dictate her actions as she reached toward the screen of the computer and made a selection.

Opening her eyes, she drew in a steadying breath and studied her destination for a moment before standing. Time was short, Mara realized grimly, especially if what she'd seen was going to come true.

Skywalker needed her.

wbsaw:1) That would be telling, wouldn't it? 2) He may be honorable but he also supported Daala in the profic and she was so obviously a psychotic lunatic that I have to wonder about his judgement. Why do you ask, BTW?

PhantomKnight88: One month has elapsed since Sidereal ended.