When Jalaen returned, Rubble leapt up and down with joy. "Jal back!" He exclaimed, then grew stern. "Were have you been?"
"Talking with Father," She told Rubble.
The Kaleesh had crossed his arms and was tapping his foot on the floor. "Bad Jalaen," He declared.
"Why am I bad?" Jalaen asked, confused.
"You didn't tell me where you went," Rubble replied. "I got worried."
Jalaen decided to change the subject. "You excited to go to the Temple?"
"Yes and no," Rubble responded. "I don't want to leave you. But I want to become Jedi."
Jalaen smiled. "In two days, I'll get my bionic hand and Father will be released," She said, almost to herself. "But we'll need to elect a new chancellor—what if they choose me?"
000
Jalaen stared blankly at the piece of metal affixed to her left arm. It was so bizarre, so unreal, and she hated it. Qymaen knocked on her door. "Jalaen, are you ready to check out?"
"Father?" Jalaen called. "Could you help me with something?"
Qymaen's head popped in. "What is it?"
"Could you wrap my hand up?" Jalaen asked, and held up some bandages. "I don't like looking at the metal."
"Sure," Qymaen replied, and gently wrapped up her hand. "So what's the plan?" He asked.
"I talked with Ronderu last night," Jalaen said. "We'll go back to Kalee for some time. The Senatorial vote is next week, when I need to bring Rubble back to the Temple. But Vellur sent me a message, about what he didn't say. But he wants us to come back to Kalee."
Qymaen nodded. He finished wrapping Jalaen's hand. "Back to Kalee," He answered. "Planet sweet planet."
