"Well, that settles it," Myri sighed. "We're borked."
Jagged Fel stood with is hands planted on his hips, scowling at the communications console. The auxiliary command room on Starless was a small space, mostly used for emergency overrides and system checks. Now that space was crammed with people. He was on his feet, next to Traest Kre'fey. Myri Antilles and Thaymes Fodrick, the Wraith Squadron communications expert, were crouched around the console from which, in theory, they should be able to start an ultra-encrypted tight-beam communication with Coruscant. Myri's sister, Captain Syal Antilles, stood slightly apart. Her arms were crossed over her chest and a worried frown wrinkled her face.
"I don't understand," Syal said. "The console seems to be working."
"It is," Myri sighed. "We've double- and triple-checked the systems."
"The signal is beamed via the Esfandia relay to Coruscant, correct?" Kre'fey asked. When Thaymes nodded the Bothan said, "Well, perhaps we're simply sending it to the wrong place."
"We've double-and triple-checked our position against the star-charts the Chiss have provided us," Jag said. "The constellations are a perfect match. We know exactly where we are and where we're pointing the transmitter. We're just not getting a response."
"Could something have happened on Coruscant or Esfandia?" Syal asked gravely.
"Last we heard there was some civil unrest in the capital, but nothing that could have brought down the government," Thaymes shook his head. "And according to Director Loran, the system is rigged with an automated response at both stations. The only way to stop that would be to blow up one of the most secure buildings in the galaxy."
"It could be something simple," Myri offered. "Some gasses or weird interference that's not on our charts. Or it could be something wrong with Starless herself. She took some hurt during the fight in the nebula."
"We've been communicating regularly with Jaina on Zonama Sekot," Jagged said, "Not to mention the other ships in the fleet."
"Short-range and long-range transmitters use different systems," Thaymes said. "One could conk out without the other being affected."
"I'll authorize an EV team to check the communications arrays," Syal said.
"Very good," Jag nodded. "In the meantime, I suppose I can contact Celestial and see if they have any idea what could be blocking us."
The others nodded but said nothing. Conversations with Wynssa had been tense lately, but he was hoping his sister would be amenable to this simple query.
Thaymes ran a hand through his short hair, then raised it in the air. "Okay, I've got a question. Why not jump out of the system and try a different location?"
Jagged fought a frown. The thought of separating the already-beleaguered Trinity fleet was unappealing from a tactical standpoint. Leaving Jaina behind on the planet was even less so.
"We should double-check the communications arrays first," Syal came to his rescue. "We can make more informed decisions after that."
"Agreed," Kre'fey nodded and looked at Jag. "What is the latest update from the planet?"
"Our techs have just taken a preliminary review of the damaged hyperdrive system. I think Jaina's going to head out there and help."
"And the communications?" asked Thaymes.
"Short-range is workable. Our people are also installing a long-range beacon that will, hopefully, allow us to keep tabs on the planet for years to come."
"Sounds good to me," Myri sighed. "Then we won't have to chase this kriffing thing down every other decade."
"Indeed," Kre'fey grunted. "Well, we should begin survey work."
"I'll get an EV crew ready," Syal looked at the two Wraiths. "I'll let you know when they're out. You can help provide diagnostics from this end."
"Aye aye, captain," Myri tipped her sister an informal salute.
Syal nodded in reply, then walked out of the room, Kre'fey followed, and Jag followed him. When he got into the hallway Syal was already walking ahead at a clipped, determined pace. Jagged was still not used to how unlike the Antilles sisters were. Myri, with her multi-colored hair, casual demeanor, and party-girl reputation, stood in stark contrast to Syal's sober military reserve.
It was a strange comparison to Jag's own sister. When he was young, he had been the determined, professional soldier, while Wyn had exhibited a wild free spirit rarely seen in Chiss society. Jagged had never considered himself wild or free-spirited, but twenty years later Wyn seemed to see him that way, while she herself acted like the perfect Chiss naval officer.
It didn't feel like their roles had been reversed, not exactly, but they had certainly changed. He thought, with a tinge of sadness, that things might have been different if Davin, Cheriss, Chak, or Cem had survived. All of them, some of them, any of them, it didn't matter. Maybe then his family would seem less... broken.
"You seem pensive," Kre'fey muttered.
Jag realized he'd slowed his pace as he walked down the hall. "Sorry. Just feeling a little weak."
"Have you recovered from your ordeal on Phoenix?" Kre'fey asked. "As much as possible, I mean."
Jag resisted the urge to touch the black patch strapped over his left eye. The patch still itched sometimes, and the strap pinched the skin of his forehead. His vision seemed strangely flat also, and he had to crane his head to the left more often. He would probably get used to it all eventually, just like his father had. He didn't know why the thought made him uneasy.
"I'm managing," Jag said at last. Thankfully, Kre'fey was walking on his right side. "I'm still hoping to get a prosthetic once this is all over."
"Of course," Kre'fey said. The old Bothan looked like he wanted to say more, then trailed off.
"Are you all right?" Jag asked. He didn't know how to approach Kre'fey. Fifteen years ago he'd served under the Bothan, looked up to him as an exemplary commander. Now his tactical mind still seemed sharp, but time had worn away the charisma and vigor that had made him such a good admiral.
He was half-hoping Kre'fey would brush aside his query, just as he had Kre'fey's. Instead, as they drew closer to the turbolight, the ex-admiral said, "May we talk in private, Commander?"
"Of course," Jag nodded. When the elevator arrived, he punched in the deck where his ready room was located. The two of them rode to their destination in awkward silence.
Jagged's ready room was about a quarter of the size of his office as Imperial Head of State, but he liked it more. The desk, the shelf of datapads, and the soft-backed chair felt relatively informal and relaxed. He pulled two chairs in front of the desk, sat down in one, and beckoned Kre'fey to do the same.
The Bothan settled down in the chair opposite Jag. His violet eyes seamed to scour the room, resting on everything but Jag himself. Jag had learned enough about Bothan body language to tell he was troubled.
"May I ask what's bothering you, admiral?"
"I'm no admiral," the Bothan shook his head.
"Still," said Jag, "What is it?"
Kre'fey finally faced Jag, but his vision still hovered somewhere above the human's shoulder. He asked, "When you were captive aboard Phoenix, did you talk with Bren Aref'ja?"
Ah, of course. The entire reason Kre'fey had joined them on this quest into the Unknown Regions was because his former protege was leading the renegade fleet.
"I did speak to him, though he wasn't in the room when Boba Fett did this to me." Jag pointed to his eyepatch.
"That's more than I've done in... oh, at least five years," Kre'fey leaned forward. "Tell me, how did he seem?"
Jagged though about that. Aref'ja had come to him and asked him to join the renegade fleet. It was the kind of obvious offer made to any prisoner, the carrot before the stick. When Jag refused, as they both knew he would, the stick came out. The threats of torture, delivered not with malice or sadistic zest but with a tone of reluctance. At first Jag had thought it feigned, but as he replayed the scene in memory he began to suspect that Aref'ja had, in fact, been saddened and squeamish at the thought of torture.
"He seemed trapped," Jag said.
Kre'fey ears twitched. "I don't understand."
"No, not trapped. He seemed like he was scared. Like he was on a wild land speeder that was veering out of control and he was clinging on as hard as he could, because as dangerous as the ride is, falling off would be even worse."
The edges of Kre'fey mouth drooped in a Bothan frown. "Bren isn't just along for the ride. He is the ride. It's his landspeeder."
"You haven't experienced Natasi Daala," Jag said. "But I think there was more than that. Can you tell me about Aref'ja, as you knew him?"
"I've known him for some time," Kre'fey said guardedly. "He was the finest officer I had during the war. Intelligent, dutiful, loyal. Everything we train them to be at the academy."
"Was he with you on Ralroost?"
"Early on, yes. He was with us at Ithor, though by the time you rejoined us, Commander, he had his own ship and was fighting the Yuuzhan Vong on the Mid and Outer Rim. He saw... many horrible things there."
"We all saw horrible things during the war," Jag said. "From what I saw of him, he still seemed like a model officer. That's why I had a hard time figuring out why he, of all the beings in the galaxy, went off to exterminate the Vong. We've checked into his record. His family was on Bothawui the whole time, and they weren't harmed. Was there something specific that happed in the Outer Rim?"
Kre'fey looked down at his paws and gave a long, heavy sigh. "Commander, what I am about to tell you is very personal. I would prefer if it doesn't leave this room."
"All right." Jag stiffened. "Go on."
"Bren was not just my finest officer. He was almost my family."
"Your family?"
"The Kre'feys are an illustrious clan," the old Bothan said. "Many seek to marry into it in the hopes of basking in the favors our good name provides. But Bren wasn't like that. He was very much in love with Evyn. My sister."
Jag searched his memory. "I'm sorry... I didn't realize you had a sister."
"Of course not. You were on the far side of the galaxy when she died on Coruscant."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Admiral."
"I'm no admiral," Kre'fey shook his head. "But I was, of course, when I introduced Evyn to my fine young subord-inate. Things progressed quickly. They became both... very much in love."
"You're saying something changed in him after the fall of Coruscant."
"Something changed in all of us," Kre'fey said firmly. His violet eyes flicked up to hold Jag's. "When the Bothan government declared ar'krai, total war against the Yuuzhan Vong, I was overjoyed. I wanted to make them pay for what they'd done to Coruscant, to Evyn, even to my cousin. The Combined Clans' declaration was beautiful, because it lifted any heavy cloak of moral responsibility and unleashed the inner predator within our race."
"I remember," Jag said evenly. For most of time he'd spent aboard Ralroost, Kre'fey had been an exuberant force, urging his men and women to hurt the Yuuzhan Vong through any means possible. It had definitely helped overall morale, but deep down Jag had shared the moral qualms his Jedi friends had expressed more openly.
Kre'fey exhaled. "The responsibilities of command, and the quandary of putting an end to the war with minimal blood-shed, forced me to temper the bloodlust I once had. Other Bothans, Bren among them, continued to cultivate the race-hatred of ar'krai within their hearts."
"Not just Bothans," Jagged said. "Hate is... a hard thing to let go of."
"Not just hate," Kre'fey's eyes flared again. "What of your sister, Commander Fel? What of the secret she has locked away in Celestial's laboratory? Do you think those Chiss medics down on Zonama Sekot brought the Alpha Red agent with them?"
"She's given me assurance that she will not use it without consulting me first."
"And do you trust your sister?"
"I also told her I would shoot her down if she tried."
"Answer my question. Do you trust her?"
His jaw clamped shut. He knew the answer, but it hurt too much to say it.
Kre'fey shook his head. "Evyn and I were quite different, but we trusted one another. Those two Antilles girls, they trust each other. And love each other very deeply, I think."
Jag didn't know if he loved Wynssa. He had once, when he'd been the strict one and she'd been the keeper of his free spirit. Now the situation was reversed, or something close, and he did not like the parts of his past that seemed to have flowered in his sister.
He said, "We were not raised in a society that places value on love."
"Nor was I," Kre'fey nodded. "But we do not have to be what our people expect us to be. We make our own choices. You, me. Bren."
"I know," Jagged exhaled a long, painful breath he hadn't known he was holding. "What about Aref'ja? When the time comes, when you and he meet again, what choice do you think he will make?"
"I don't know," Kre'fey said sadly. "But I am prepared to do whatever I have to for the sake of my mission."
Jag nodded in wordless agreement. That was something he shared with Kre'fey, and with his sister too.
-{}-
She stood on the grassy hilltop, bare feet on soft damp earth, and wondered if she belonged here.
Tahiri Veila had called a lot of places home. Tatooine, Yavin 4, Ossus, even Coruscant, though the busy city-world had never felt like a place where she belonged. She'd spent five years on Zonama Sekot, helping Danni Quee and Harrar bring peace to a shattered society while she helped mend together her shattered self. Looking back, things had all started going downhill when she left Zonama Sekot.
Ever since she'd left, she'd been overcome by the desire to get back. Not just to the planet, but back further still, to those brief moments of youth when she'd had Anakin at her side and she'd capable of taking on the Yuuzhan Vong and the entire galaxy, so long as they were together. That over-whelming need to get back had pulled her ever-deeper into desperation and darkness, and made her do things the Tahiri whom Anakin had loved would never have condoned.
Now she was here again. So much had changed, both on the planet and inside herself, but it still felt so very peaceful to stand on the crest of the hill overlooking the Middle Distance, admiring the endless rolling hills draped in bora trees, the gleam of distant lakes, the lazy passing of fat white clouds across a vast blue sky.
It was almost enough to make her forget the things she'd done since she last stood here.
Almost.
Jaina had left that morning for the hyperdrives, taking with her Mando buddies and most of Wraith Squadron. That left Tahiri in town with Danni, Harrar, and most troubling of all, Ben Skywalker.
Ben himself wasn't troubled, not any more. That was what troubled Tahiri. He'd explained to her and Jaina both the encounter he'd had in the forest, first with Zonama Sekot materialized as a child, and then with his deceased mother. He'd been certain, dead certain, that the image of Mara Jade had been a real Force-specter, not another projection of Sekot's. Somehow she must have been summoned by the living planet itself.
And that was worrying on many levels. If Sekot had summoned the ghost of Mara Jade Skywalker, perhaps pulling on some tether of their previous meeting, who else would follow? Jacen Solo? The enigmatic Vergere?
Was it possible, however unlikely, that the planet might summon the ghost of Anakin Solo?
The very thought had made Tahiri's chest freeze up. She'd gone for a long walk to sort out her thoughts, but as she stared at the forests and hills, cool breeze stinging her face, she was no closer to an answer.
She didn't know which she'd prefer, seeing Anakin or not seeing him. He'd been the bright center of her life, and everything since his death, even the five years of healing on Zonama Sekot, had been poisoned by his bittersweet memory. Their brief time as lovers, between the fall of Yavin 4 and the mission to Myrkr, had been the peak of her life, and everything else was just a long downhill walk, constantly looking over her shoulder at the heights she'd climbed down from.
How could she face Anakin, after all the things she'd done? How could she tell him what Jacen Solo had turned into, let alone what horrible things Tahiri had done to help Anakin's brother? How could she explain that she had killed and tortured and betrayed the people who loved her, all because of her awful desperate need just to spend a little more time with the boy she'd loved half a life ago?
Anakin would probably forgive her. Anakin could forgive everything. He was greater even than Ben Skywalker in his capacity for understanding, love, and forgiveness. Tahiri did not have that capability. Regret, like the memory of Anakin Solo, was just something she had to live with now.
The soft earth was still a comfort beneath her bare feet. When she'd first come to Yavin 4 to train as a Jedi, she'd insisted on going everywhere barefoot, even the messy jungle. It was something she'd never experienced on Tatooine and every step brought new sensation, discovery. Growing older, she'd slowly weaned herself off the practice, and after joining herself with Nen Yim's implanted memories, she'd given it up entirely.
But over time, she'd started going barefoot again. She hadn't thought much about it at first, but looking back she realized it must have been an unconscious attempt to get back just a bit of what she'd lost from her youth; a minor, benign version of the same urge that had dragged her down Darth Caedus's wake. Realizing that, she'd tried to get back in the habit of wearing boots again, but right here, right now, on this grassy hilltop, it felt wrong not to touch this world any way she could.
She was pondering the beautiful scene when she heard someone call her name behind her. She turned and looked down the hill, toward the town. A tall blond woman, hair bound at the nape of her neck, was walking toward her, followed by a Yuuzhan Vong dressed not in the organic fibers or light armor common to his people, but a synthetic gray jumpsuit.
Picking up her boots with one hand, Tahiri stepped off the hilltop and walked down the slope. A large cloud passed overhead, obscuring the sun.
"There you are," Jesmin Tainer said. "I heard you were still in town."
"It's good to see you again, both of you" Tahiri said, and she meant it.
Onboard Starless she'd spent time with both Jesmin and the human-raised Yuuzhan Vong, Scut. She'd found herself identifying with Jesmin's wandering life (Jedi drop-out, Antarian Ranger, bounty hunter, Wraith operative) and with Scut's conflicted human-Yuuzhan Vong nature, and was glad to have both of them on the planet. Besides, they were a distraction from her thoughts about Anakin.
"I thought most of your people went with Jaina," she said.
"They did," Jesmin put her hands on her hips, nudging the lightsaber attached to her belt. "It's just us. Sharr wanted me to watch the comm system while Scut got acquainted."
Tahiri looked at the Yuuzhan Vong. She had half a guess as to what he was feeling now, like he was at once coming home and wandering into something more alien then he could possible imagine. She asked, "Well, how is it?"
Scut's face, gray and smooth, bereft of the tattoos and scars typical of his people, seemed even more childlike as he looked around the hillside. Finally, his eyes settled on Tahiri and he said, "I should have come a long time ago."
Tahiri smiled tightly and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, you're here now. What do you think?"
"I think... I have so much to learn. I've spent some time I one of their daumuteks, with some of their shapers. They've been working to stabilize the biosphere after the damage from the last jump. The things they've discovered, comparing Sekotan biology to Yuuzhan Vong life... It's fascinating. I'm surprised more scientists didn't come here before."
"The Yuuzhan Vong like their privacy," Tahiri reminded him. "So does Sekot."
"Yes, I understand." Scut looked a little sullen. "They're unsure what to do with me. I'm like them, but not like them at all. And they seem... Strange to me as well."
"That's only natural," Tahiri said softly. "But they are part of you, even the things that seem strange or ugly. Denying that can only hurt you. Believe me."
"I do. And I think I am getting used to it... slowly."
"Well, relax," Jesmin grinned. "You've only been here less than a day."
"Who knows how much time we'll have?" Scut looked up at the clouds drifting overhead, like he was trying to see the stars and the fleets beyond.
"Come on," Tahiri said as a strong breeze chilled her. "Let's go back to the town."
They agreed, and after Tahiri put her boots on, they walked down the hill, through the long blowing grass, until they were back amidst the clusters of low dome-like buildings. They had been grown with no discernable pattern. The streets were winding and haphazard, usually unpaved. It was unlike Coruscant in every way possible, and that was enough to make Tahiri feel better.
When they returned to Danni Quee's building, they found the Magister sitting down on the floor, talking quietly to Harrar and Ben. The red-haired young man looked up and asked, "Where'd you find her?"
"Up on a hill, taking in the view," Jesmin replied.
"Did you need me for something?" Tahiri asked, looking from Danni to Harrar.
The old Yuuzhan Vong priest bobbed his head. "Perhaps. We were speaking with your young friend, Scut, about shaper's matters."
"The Magister is very knowledgeable," Scut nodded.
"Well, I was a scientist in a past life," Danni laughed softly.
"I thought you were an astrophysicist," Ben said.
"I was," Danni said. "Then I had to... adapt."
"The Magister was the first of your galaxy to encounter the Praetorite Vong," Harrar said grimly. "At least, the only one of that intial group to survive. The fact that she has found it in her heart to forgive us, to stay with us..."
Danni reached out and placed a palm on his gray brittle hand. "It's all right. I'm happy with what happened."
Tahiri wasn't sure about that; Danni betrayed palpable irritation at having been ignored by Sekot, and clearly blamed herself in part for the departure of the True Honor faction. Despite all that, the smile on her face was genuine; there was no place in the galaxy Danni Quee would rather be than Zonama Sekot.
Tahiri took a seat on the carpet. Ben and Danni scooted slightly to make room for Scut and Jesmin.
"So," Tahiri asked, "What did you need me for?"
"A possibility has occurred to us," Harrar fixed her with his dark, deep-set eyes. "I trust Jaina Solo and your technicians from the Alliance to fix the hyperdrive machinery. However, that may not be enough."
Tahiri raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"This world is part natural, part mechanical," Scut said. "Everything stays in balance. It works despite those differ-ences. Those hyperdrives might not work unless the natural and the biological are working in sync."
"Haven't your shapers already looked at the hyperdrive?"
"They have," said Harrar, "And they are at the site now. However, just as our working mechanics were not enough, so our shapers might need additional help."
Tahiri stared at Scut. The Yuuzhan Vong was a brilliant amateur biologist, but he only had a day's experience with Zonama Sekot.
Sensing her thoughts, Scut shook his head. "Not me. She suggested we find someone else. Someone... hard to get to."
Tahiri's jaw dropped. She stared at Harrar. "You can't be serious. Not her!"
Harrar nodded. "She is our most brilliant shaper."
"She's a war criminal," Tahiri said harshly.
As the last Master Shaper during the Yuuzhan Vong War, Qelah Kwaad had created horrible monstrosities that claimed thousands of Alliance lives, most notably the horrible armored Slayer soldiers who had defended Supreme Over-lord Shimmra's palace.
Beneath her obvious revulsion, Tahiri held a still-deeper resentment to Qelah Kwaad. It had been her relative, Mezhan Kwaad, who had captured Tahiri on Yavin 4 all those years ago, cut into her brain, and filled it with the memories of so-called Riina Kwaad. Tahiri had thanked her by cutting her head from her shoulders.
"Qelah Kwaad was a great help to us immediately after the war," Harrar reminded her. "She helped grow new towns like the one we are in now."
"For a couple years. Then she went crazy and wandered off into the mountains. Do we even know where she is?"
"We have reports," Danni spoke up. "It seems that she hadn't left her daumutek in the Blue Mountains in over ten years."
"Sithspawn." Tahiri shook her head. Traipsing through the forest to try and recruit a mad shaper, one who had already brought so much pain to the galaxy, was not what she expected to be doing today. "Honestly, I'd have though she'd have joined True Honor."
"Not her," Harrar said. "It was her successor as Master Shaper, Vilath Dal."
Tahiri remembered him. Tall, proud, intelligent. He'd also kept to himself, and Tahiri had never gotten a good reading on him.
"Do you know if he had any contact with Qelah Kwaad before he left with True Honor?" she asked.
"None that we could see," Danni said, then added, "I admit we could have kept better watch on him, though."
"What's past is past," Harrar consoled. "Right now we have to look to the future."
"And the future involves Qelah Kwaad?" asked Tahiri, still skeptical.
"It very well might," said Harrar. "Our situation is dire. I believe it is worth trying."
Tahiri looked to Danni for appeal, but the Magister nodded in agreement.
"Okay," Tahiri sighed. She looked at Scut. "Pack your kit, then. I guess we're going on a trip."
"We will send a guide with you," said Harrar.
"Be my guest." Tahiri rose to her feet, as did Scut and Jesmin. As Ben stood up he asked, "Where do I fit in in all this?"
"You should stay in town, Ben," Tahiri said, and glanced at Jesmin. "You too. Watch over the comm system. Help Danni and Harrar with whatever they need. Keep in touch with Jaina."
"Sounds good," Jesmin nodded. She clearly had no desire to go trekking through the Blue Mountains.
As the four of them started for the door, Danni said, "Tahiri, could you wait a moment?"
Tahiri had a feeling this conversation was also going to be awkward, but she said, "Sure. Go on ahead, guys. Scut, I'll meet you at the comm center."
Scut nodded and left. Jesmin followed, then Ben. Tahiri watched his face for some hint of the coming conversation but he seemed to know nothing. When they were gone, she sat back down on the carpet with Danni and Harrar.
"Well?" she asked, placing her hands on her knees.
"We have heard from Ben that he saw his mother in the forest," Danni said evenly. "He said that Sekot appeared as a child and guided him to her."
"If that's what Ben says, I believe him."
Danni nodded, though she looked unhappy that Sekot had, again, appeared to manifest itself to someone other than her. She said, "Tahiri, what happened to Mara Jade? What hap-pened to Jacen Solo?"
There it was, the obvious question, the one she knew was coming but prayed she wouldn't have to answer. But now Danni and Harrar were staring at her, expectant, needing. She had no right to hide this information from her. She trusted them with her life; she could certainly trust them with this horrible knowledge.
"Please," said Harrar. "Tell us how such great Jedi could fall."
Tahiri closed her eyes, exhaled.
Then she told them everything.
She told them about how Jacen had changed after his five-year journey to discover new things about the Force. She spoke of the Swarm War, and how he'd tricked his fellow Jedi into a preemptive attack on the Chiss. Then came the Corellian Crisis, and the Second Civil War. She talked about how Jacen had trained Ben in the Galactic Alliance Guard, taking him on secret police raids. She said that Jacen sought to bring peace to the galaxy by apprenticing himself to a Sith named Lumiya, and that when Mara Jade found out she went after Jacen to kill him. Jacen had, in turn, killed his aunt and become Darth Caedus.
Then she told how them Caedus had taken control of the Alliance, turning it into an instrument of terror just like his grandfather had, until he was hunted down and killed by his own sister. The one bright light in all of this was Jacen's daughter Allana, born from his hidden lover and childhood friend Tenel Ka.
Tahiri did not talk about her own role in this; how her desire to see Anakin and her longtime friendship with Jacen had turned her into a Sith witch who murdered old men and helpless prisoners. She could only say so much.
When she was done, Danni Quee was weeping silently. Harrar's eyes were black marbles in his ashen face.
"Now you understand," she told them. Her eyes and throat were dry. "Jaina doesn't talk about him, ever. Ben... Ben's strong, but he's lost so much."
"I had no idea," Danni croaked. "I wish... I wish I could have seen him, one last time. I wish I could have told him."
Tahiri only nodded. The pain of words left unsaid had haunted her half her life.
"It all makes sense now," a soft voice said behind them.
All three heads spun to see a teenage girl with three scars on her forehead perched on one of the shelves jutting from the daumutek wall.
Tahiri stared. It was her, and yet not. Fifteen years ago, when she'd first come to Zonama Sekot, she had been battered but unbroken, confused but seeking clarity, hopeful despite all she'd lost. She'd been smooth-skinned and bright-eyed and bare-footed.
Staring at the image before her was like seeing the clock turned back on half her life.
"Sekot!" Danni's voice broke. She sounded like she was about to cry again. "You're back. You're really-"
The image of young Tahiri held up a hand. "It's all right, Danni. Really. I haven't forgotten you."
Something rattled in Tahiri's chest. It felt so strange to hear your own voice.
"But I thought-" Danni stuttered, "You just went away, and I thought you were angry, or-"
"I'm sad," the living world said. "There's so much in this universe to be sad about. So much hatred. Pain. Loss. None of it is fair. But we have to keep moving, or we'll be stuck in the past forever."
"Sekot," Tahiri said, then froze.
She wanted to know why the living world had chosen her image to appear as. The image of her past self, still unbroken by Darth Caedus, filled her with awful, aching nostalgia to go back to what was. Standing before her now was the image of everything she'd longed to return to for the past fifteen years; everything she'd gone dark in the hope of getting back.
"How did you bring forth the ghost of Mara Jade Skywalker?" Harrar asked behind her.
"You can see her?" Tahiri jerked in shock.
Sekot projected images through the Force. Harrar could not touch the Force and should not have been able to see this projection. In the past, whenever Sekot had wished to speak to the Yuuzhan Vong, it had spoken directly through the mouths of Danni or the old Magister, Jabitha.
Tahiri watched her younger self chuckle and hop off the shelf. The shelf creaked with the alleviation of weight, and two bare feet slapped softly on the floor.
"That's impossible," Tahiri gaped. "How did you-"
"I've been discovering new things about myself lately," her simulacrum said. "I've learned to touch the Force in new ways, even manipulate matter."
"So... If I touched you..."
"What about Mara Jade Skywalker?" Harrar asked.
"That is something else I've been learning." The girl's face smiled ambiguously. "The line between life and death is never absolute, not with the Force."
"Could you-" Tahiri's words caught. She couldn't say it, couldn't ask it. She felt as pathetic, needy, and helpless as she had before Darth Caedus. She was like a spice addict dreaming of a fix. Just the thought, the hope of touching Anakin's spirit threatened to ruin her again.
Her own face smiled knowingly. "It's all right, Tahiri. And Danni, and Harrar. I haven't forgotten about you."
"But there's so much happening!" Danni said. "There is a fleet out there trying to kill us. And True Honor, they-"
"It doesn't matter," the girl said firmly. "What I'm doing is more important."
"More important?" spat Danni. "There are hundreds of thousands of beings on this planet, beings who trust you, need you, worship you!"
"I haven't forgotten them," the young Tahiri said. "But recent trauma has… awakened things in me. I can see things now. Beyond life and death, past and present, good and evil. I wonder if this is how Jacen felt when he saved the galaxy from Onimi..."
A strange, sad smile appeared on the girl's face. "A dragon is coming. He won't fall easily. I have to be prepared."
"A dragon?" Danni said. "What dragon? Sekot, I don't understand."
"Don't worry, Magister," the girl said. "You will."
And then she was gone. Like she'd never been there at all.
An awful silence fell over the room. Danni choked back more tears. Harrar lowered his head and looked very, very tired. And Tahiri did not know what to feel. Confusion, hope, desire, despair, and a painful nostalgia all warred within her. She'd come to Sekot thinking it might be a place of refuge from all her regrets, all she'd done in the past five years. Instead it had brought her face-to-face with them all.
When she, too, lowered her head, she couldn't keep the tears from flowing.
