1 NRE

They'd been walking for hours, and Mara had felt Luke Skywalker's eyes on her the whole time. Perhaps he was simply being vigilant, in case she made good on her threat to try and take the blaster from him. And yet, there was something else behind his eyes, a burning curiosity about who she was and why exactly she hated him so much.

Mara was biding her time. He had been correct that she had a better chance of making it back to the base with him than alone, and she wasn't about to take a chance with Karrde's life unnecessarily. And she couldn't deny that she was curious about him, for in the few days she'd known him Skywalker had proved himself intelligent, skilled and capable, yet also self-effacing and gregarious. It was at odds with everything she had ever been taught about the Jedi, and so Mara believed that it had to be a front; a feight so she would let down her guard.

"Would you like some water?" Skywalker held out a canteen to her, and Mara shook her head and kept walking, quickening her pace. Skywalker shrugged and took a sip from the canteen before stowing it in the pack of supplies he'd gathered from the shuttle. "Suit yourself."

Skywalker matched her quick strides. "So I guess we can expect NR forces waiting for us back at the base," he said conversationally, but she had learned that his genial and unassuming questions always hid a search for information.

Mara huffed. "If your government permits unauthorised occupation of a private organisation's compound, I guess so."

"Well your organisation is hardly legal, from what I understand," Skywalker answered evenly. "So it could otherwise be described as a raid on a criminal base of operations to rescue a private citizen being held against his will."

"They must want you back badly, Skywalker," Mara said, ignoring his jibe. "They sent a Star Destroyer after you." Let him build his confidence, she thought to herself. It would be his undoing, as it was for all the Jedi before him.

"I have good friends," Skywalker smiled. "They must have been worried about me."

Briefly, Mara's thoughts turned to Karrde back at the shuttle. She was sure that his injury was not serious, or at least would not be if they got help in time. And yet she couldn't help but worry.

"He'll be alright, Mara," Skywalker said, putting his hand on her arm.

Mara shrugged it off violently, once again unnerved that he seemed to have no difficulty reading the focus of her thoughts, even without the Force. She'd always thought she had a better sabacc face than that. She quickened her pace again, but this time Skywalker stayed a few steps behind her.

"Why do you want to kill me?" he asked, a note of pain in his voice. "You don't even know me."

"I've seen the propaganda," she told him bitterly. "Luke Skywalker," she continued mockingly. "Long-lost son of Clone Wars hero, makes a one-in-a-million shot to destroy the Death Star and doesn't even use his targeting computer. Rescues a princess and it turns out she's his sister." Mara scoffed. "It's like a holofilm."

"Those are the things I've done," he replied evenly. "It's not who I am."

"I know exactly who you are," she turned and practically spat back to him. "After you blew up the Death Star the Emperor had me research you – I know all about you." She advanced on him until they were face to face. "But at the end of the day, you're just a stupid farmboy from some worthless dustball who got lucky a couple of times."

"I don't disagree." There was a world of pain in his clear blue eyes which Mara chose to ignore. She turned and once again resumed her quick pace. They walked for a few more minutes before he spoke again.

"So you worked for the Emperor," he said casually. "I mean, obviously you were an Imperial, but…" he trailed off, as if unsure of what to say.

Mara seethed at herself for letting that slip. What was it about this man that made her forget all of her training? Had she settled into the comparatively easy role of a smuggler too well, her wits dulled and formerly acute senses dimmed?

"Yes, I worked for the Emperor," deciding that she might as well tell him. "I was his Hand."

"His what?" Skywalker stopped and when she turned again he looked at her quizzically.

"The Emperor's Hand," Mara clarified, her shoulders straightening at the title. Skywalker however still looked confused, and she sighed. He really was just a dumb farmboy, she thought, and wondered how this idiot had been able to escape her. "The Emperor commands, and the Hand obeys."

"And what did he command you to do?" Skywalker contemplated her, his head cocking slightly to the side.

"Anything that needed to be done. Reconnaissance, investigation, covert operations." She looked at him squarely. "Assassination."

Luke seemed unfazed, or at the very least gave a very good impression of it. "And how did you come by this line of work?" he asked.

"I was raised for it," she told him shortly, and finally Skywalker reacted, looking away and rubbing his chin as if in contemplation. "Are you surprised, Jedi?"

When he looked back at her there was pity in his gaze. "That Palpatine would take a young child and raise her to kill?" he shook his head slowly. "No, it doesn't surprise me at all."

"It wasn't like that," Mara seethed at his insinuation. "He saw the potential in me, gave me the opportunity to serve and rewarded me with prestige and respect."

Skywalker's brow furrowed. "What potential could he see in a child..." Comprehension dawned on his face, and he looked at her with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "You have the Force."

Mara allowed herself a smug smile at finally having one over on him. "Did you think you were the only one?"

"Were you his apprentice?" he asked, ignoring her jibe. For the first time, he looked a little uneasy in her presence.

"Don't you know anything, Jedi," she said dismissively. "There are never more than two Sith."

Skywalker looked relieved. "But he trained you to use the Force."

"To serve the Empire," Mara insisted. She'd had no desire to become a Sith, or take Vader's place at her Master's side. She'd only wanted to help maintain peace and order in an unruly galaxy and the Force had been a tool at her disposal. And yes, she had enjoyed the lifestyle it had afforded her, but it was adequate reward for her hard work.

"No," Skywalker shook his head. "To serve him."

"There was no difference," Mara maintained. Palpatine was the Empire.

"If you say so." Skywalker looked pensive, and she could almost see him working things out in his mind. "And he ordered you to kill me."

Mara recoiled within herself, shame once again pressing against that barely-healed wound. "It's the only order I've never been able to carry out." She had failed to kill Skywalker, and so the Emperor had been defeated, and the Empire had fallen. It had all been her fault.

"That's it?" Skywalker asked with revulsion. "You want to kill me because Palpatine asked you to?" He shook his head as if in disbelief. "He's dead, Mara."

"Because of you," Mara spat at him, anger flaming anew. "You killed him – my Master, the man who raised me. He who ended the Clone Wars, who saved the galaxy from tearing itself apart."

Skywalker's face creased with sorrow and concern. He sat down on a nearby rock and sighed heavily. "I didn't kill him, Mara."

"Don't lie to me like you lie to the holopress, Skywalker," she said, taking a step towards him. "You can claim that Vader killed the Emperor all you like to keep your saintly Jedi image. I don't buy it. You took away everything that was important to me and assassinated the legitimate ruler of the galaxy – even if I hadn't been ordered to, I would be justified in killing you for that."

"Palpatine was a tyrant," Skywalker said calmly, looking up at her. "He may have been legitimately elected Chancellor, but he stayed longer than his elected term of office and declared himself Emperor. Then he maintained his power by subjecting non-humans to torture and slavery, dismantling democracy and killing everyone who opposed him."

She had heard those lies before from Rebel propaganda. It was true that the Empire's laws and control was far more stringent than the Old Republic's, but they were also far more effective. The Senate had been a den of corruption and the federations and guilds had amassed far too much power, allowing the Separatist movement to take hold. As Palpatine had told her many times, he had tried to reform the system from within, but even he could not fix what was irrevocably broken and fundamentally flawed. A new government was needed, one that was strong and powerful and actually able to protect its citizens. Perhaps in return they'd had less freedoms, but it was a fair exchange for security.

"You claim the moral high ground," Mara challenged him. "And yet it was the Jedi who tried to assassinate Palpatine, and seize power for themselves."

"I guarantee you they did not," Skywalker said resolutely. "But for the sake of argument, say a few Jedi Masters took it upon themselves to attempt assassination of the Chancellor and stage a coup, did that justify the massacre of every Jedi in the galaxy? Even the younglings?"

"You must eradicate a weed at the roots, lest it grow again, and stronger." Mara folded her arms together and stared him down.

"You say that from rote," Skywalker observed. "But I do not think you believe it."

Mara turned away from him, thick anger bubbling within her. How dare he presume to tell her what she believed? For a moment, all the possible ways to kill him flew through her mind in order to silence his lying mouth. Even though he had his lightsaber and blaster, Mara felt sure she could do it, catch him off guard and use her belt as a garotte, or snap his neck; she even knew the exact place on a man's head where a single punch would end him.

"Order 66 was a genocide, only the first of many," Skywalker continued, impassioned and seemingly unaware of the murderous turn of her thoughts. "I regret the lives I have taken, and acted only when absolutely necessary. If you think Palpatine felt anything other than pleasure for every being he enslaved or every life he took – or ordered you to take for him – you are lying to yourself."

Mara grasped for the Emperor's voice in her mind, that presence who had always given her direction, who would be able to smooth over the Jedi's lies with ease. But he was gone, his commands had been ripped from her consciousness two years ago when the Death Star had been destroyed. The day Skywalker had killed him.

And yet...Mara wasn't so sure about that anymore. She turned back to face Skywalker, and saw that he had risen, his eyes bright and challenging, his jaw firmly set. It had been easy to see the moment with the blaster had been a bluff, and she was certain that if she attacked him he would harm her only as a last, desperate act to save his own life. The man she had observed over the past few days did not seem capable of killing the Emperor, he seemed far too gentle a soul for that. And yet he had killed, she reminded herself, he had just admitted it. Luke Skywalker had ended every life on the first Death Star, and countless more in the years since.

"It's you and your Rebels who dragged the galaxy back into a civil war," Mara countered, forcing her anger down to be saved for later. "What was necessary about that? You killed the Emperor among countless other innocents. You took everything from me," she continued bitterly. "My Emperor, my purpose, my security. You destroyed my life."

Skywalker sighed and looked down at his boots for a moment, and when his gaze rose to hers again, it was resigned. "And what purpose will killing me serve?" he asked calmly. "It will not bring the Emperor back, or reinstate his Empire. If you're searching for closure, Mara, I suggest you look within."

Mara clenched a fist, her eyes lingering on the pulse point in Skywalker's throat. She could wrap her hands around it and crush his windpipe, steal his last breath so he would trouble her no more. In fulfilling her Master's last command, she would redeem herself and finally be able to move on. That would be closure. And justice, and retribution.

But Karrde…

She turned back around so violently her braid spun around and whipped her in the face. Mara ignored the sting and began to walk again, trying to quell her murderous desire, promising herself that once they were close enough to the base, she would finish it.

"Mara - " Skywalker caught up and tugged at her arm.

"Don't call me that," she shot back venomously, pulling her arm from his grip and quickening her pace.

"Don't call you by your name?"

"Don't call me anything," she ordered him. "Don't talk to me."

For once, he complied, and they continued to walk in silence through the forest.

29 NRE

The Calling Karrde was a small space station in orbit over the planet Rodan. The gas giant was only a few light years from Coruscant and was also orbited by four small uninhabitable moons. As such the system had never been of much interest to anyone in the Empire or either Republic. But to Talon Karrde, who had lived outside of all systems of government, it had demonstrated potential.

Micah's rooms on the Calling Karrde were small, certainly not as comfortable as his rooms in the family apartment on Coruscant, but more luxurious than his quarters at NRI headquarters had been, and vastly superior to the hovels he'd once inhabited on Corellia. There was even a viewscreen with a seat below, allowing Micah to look out to the stars and watch the lightening storms on Rodan below, and it was often where he could be found during his downtime. It helped him think.

He leaned back into the seat, eyes fixed on the swirls of green gas and blue lightning. Karrde had hired the best engineers in the galaxy to work on the station and funnel the electricity generated by the planet into the Calling Karrde's power systems, making it completely self-sufficient. Although his organisation was not officially part of the New Republic government, it was sanctioned by it, although not to the extent that Karrde felt safe with a base of operations on Coruscant or any other Core world. Rather, he liked the flexibility of his own space station which was able to move throughout the galaxy as he pleased. Micah had always admired Karrde's shrewdness on the issue. In fact, as a young boy his mother had often brought him to the station to visit "Uncle Talon" and ever since then Micah had been fascinated by the sleek silver corridors and numerous viewscreens from which one could view the violently powerful planet below.

The storms which shook the surface of Rodan seemed to reflect Micah's tumultuous mood. He raised one of his hands palm up and wiggled his fingers, calling to him with the Force a set of three metallic balls which lay on Micah's desk. They had been a gift from his father to aid in meditation, but Micah did not use them for their intended purpose, instead juggling them in the air beside him. His mother would have chastised him for unnecessary use of the Force, but Micah didn't particularly care. He was not a Jedi, and so did not need to follow their rules. The Force was a tool, nothing more, and Micah did not fear casual use of it.

There was a firm but insistent knock at the door. "Come in," Micah called, and was not surprised when the door opened to reveal Shada D'ukal. She was tall, with sleek black hair and equally dark eyes which catalogued everything she saw. Her tan skin was smooth despite the fact she was Micah's parent's age, and she rarely smiled although Micah had learned to read the miniscule changes in her expression which indicated her moods.

"Micah," Shada greeted him, and raised an eyebrow when she saw the juggling balls suspended in the air. "Being productive, I see."

Micah waved his hand and the balls returned to their place on his desk. He shrugged dismissively. "I've exhausted holonet and database research," he said. "If Karrde would let me go back to Coruscant…" he trailed off, knowing it would make no difference. He'd been able to comm Mara earlier that day, and Micah was relieved that she seemed to be back to her usual self. Still, he had heard that plaintive note of worry in her voice, for him, for his father, and for Ben. "But he thinks that Mum won't let me leave again if I go back," he looked up at Shada and saw confirmation in her eyes.

"That, and you're likely to get caught up in Jedi or NRI business," she said evenly. "You're more help to everyone here."

"It doesn't seem like I'm being much help to anyone," Micah grumbled.

"Well that's about to change," Shada advised him and beckoned for him to follow her. "Karrde wants to see you."

Micah lept to his feet and eagerly followed Shada to Karrde's office at the apex of the station. It was large and ornate, with huge viewscreens filling up the walls and intimidating all who entered. Karrde sat behind a large and antique desk he'd liberated from some planet or another, the wood embedded with an assortment of data displays, screens, switches and buttons so Karrde could run the entire station. In a bind he could even pilot the station and navigate a jump into hyperspace. A number of large armchairs circled the space in front of Karrde's desk, and when they were filled it almost gave the impression he was holding court.

When Shada and Micah entered, however, there was only one other being present; a small furry biped with reddish brown fur and a dignified bearing.

"Ah, come in," Karrde beckoned them closer, and the creature turned it's large black eyes to them appraisingly. "I'd like you to meet and old friend of mine - Teelin, of the planet Drall." Karrde turned to his companion. "Teelin, my associates, Shada Du'kal and Micah Jade."

Micah had found it useful to known professionally by his mother's name rather than his father's. The name Skywalker never failed to cause a reaction, whether good or bad. Although his mother's surname was also well known, it was common enough that people seldom made the connection.

"I see you wear bloodstripes," Teelin observed, his dark gaze flittering over the yellow piping down the sides of Micah's trousers. "Did you serve with the Corellian military?"

Micah eyed the drall. "I assure you I was awarded them legitimately."

Teelin laughed and turned back to Karrde. "The boy is as tight-lipped as you, Karrde."

Karrde smiled shrewdly. "A vital trait in our line of work."

"I did not mean to impugn your honour, young Jade," Teelin continued with a genial smile, although his sharp teeth gave him a sinister look. "Perhaps one day you will tell me of how you came to earn those stripes."

Micah forced a smile in return. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps we can move on from this scintillating topic of conversation?" Shada suggested dryly.

"Yes, of course," Teelin bowed his head deferentially, but Micah still felt his curious gaze. "I have some information about the attack on Corellia. No doubt you've heard that the Human League has claimed responsibility."

Micah looked at Karrde curiously - he had not in fact heard that.

"It's just reached us over the holonet," Karrde answered, avoiding Micah's gaze. "Although I of course suspected." It must have been recent news, Micah mused, since he'd been on the holonet only a few hours previous.

"I thought the Human League had been defeated years ago?" Micah queried. He'd been a small child at the time, but his Uncle Han had told him many stories about it and he'd met many who'd lived through the crisis in his own time on the planet.

"It appears that they've had a resurgence," Teelin said distastefully.

"Under new leadership, perhaps?" Shada asked in a tone that indicated it was anything but a question. "Or rather, revived leadership."

Teelin's smile faded somewhat. "Ah, perhaps my journey was a waste?"

"Of course not, my old friend," Karrde said smoothly. "It is a logical assumption, but we would welcome confirmation and details." He thumbed a switch on his desk and the doors to the office opened. "Shada will take you to the mess, and you can discuss price over a bottle of our finest emerald wine."

Teelin hopped out of his chair and walked with Shada towards the exit. Micah went to follow, but Shada gave him a sharp look and inclined her head, instructing him to stay. He waited until the doors had firmly shut behind the pair before turning back to Karrde expectantly.

The man himself was inscrutable as ever, although he gave Micah a small smile. "How have you been getting along, Micah?" he asked in an easy tone that raised Micah's ire.

"How have I been getting along?" he asked somewhat incredulously. "Let's see - you send me back to Coruscant so I can be with my family, then call me back almost immediately." Micah waved his hands as his temper bubbled with every word. "Then I sit round for a week or so doing mindless research and you don't even grace me with your presence. You know I promised Aunt Leia I would look into the Corellian matter, but you don't share your suspicions about it with me. So how am I getting alone? Not well."

Micah exhaled harshly and collapsed with frustration into one of the armchairs in front of Karrde's desk.

"If you're quite finished?" Karrde asked calmly. "You know, you look just like your mother when you're angry."

Micah scowled - he hated to be compared to either of his parents, and Karrde knew that. Which meant he had said so deliberately.

"But Mara always understood that if I kept something from her, it was for good reason," Karrde continued, and Micah shifted in his seat, slightly chastised. Then Karrde sighed, leaning forward on his desk and giving Micah a kindly look. "But she had harsher lessons growing up to learn that - experiences that I would not wish upon you, my boy." He sighed again and leaned back into his chair, regarding Micah thoughtfully.

"I sent you back to Coruscant because one should be with family when they can," he said after a short silence. "But then the attack on Corellia happened, and I knew I would need you here. You did not see me before because I was making enquiries of my own. I did not ask you to look into the Human League first because I wanted to sure that there was no other avenue we should pursue and I did not want to cloud you research with my suspicions. Are those explanations satisfactory?"

Micah made an effort to sit up straighter in his chair and recover a modicum of professionalism. Karrde had given him reasonable explanations when he'd been under no obligation to do so, and Micah cursed his earlier words brought on my impulsive frustration.

"Yes," he answered, knowing that no further words or apology was needed.

"Good," Karrde nodded, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I want you to go Corellia and look into the Human League. But observation only, Micah," Karrde warned him. "This is not an undercover mission."

"Why not?" Micah asked. Surely that was his unique skills in the company, and he certainly knew the planet well enough to pull it off. "I've done it before."

"Not when a relative is the leader of the organisation you are trying to infiltrate," Karrde said seriously, and leaded forward on his desk again. "Surely you've heard of your Uncle Han's cousin," Karrde continued, fixing Micah with a knowing stare. "A man by the name of Thracken Sal-Solo."