A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy.

A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu". Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated.

A/N #3: To clear up any confusion, Tycen Pike is an original character. Please continue to review as I so enjoy receiving your feedback.

Chapter 14 – The Morning After

He winced.

It wasn't because he was currently in pain; rather, it was more in deference to the excruciating agony he could still well remember. The soft moan that issued from his raw throat was uttered for the same reason.

The memory of his arrival suddenly swamped him. Another moan escaped his parched lips before he could catch himself and hold it back. The pain in his body had been replaced with only numbness and debilitating exhaustion. He could still feel his insides quaking from the aftermath. Whether it was a result of the violent reaction caused by his entry to this time or was simply fatigue—it mattered little. He was just thankful that at this moment…he no longer hurt.

He felt compelled to inhale deeply, but he worried about what type of reaction that would follow. As he knew he wasn't ready to endure a response similar to the one that had assaulted him the last time he had tried such an endeavor, he determinedly kept his breathing shallow.

It took him a moment to realize that he was no longer curled up on his side, but lying flat on his back. And wherever he was, it was warm and much softer than the cold duracrete… although the uneven lumps beneath his back were making it not that much more comfortable. He shifted slightly, bringing his left hand to his chest to feel a scratchy blanket beneath his fingertips. His lips twitched upward as he issued a quiet sigh of relief.

Feeling no urgent compulsion to open his eyes, he continued to lie still. As his consciousness solidified, he began to tentatively deepen his respirations to replenish the oxygen that his continued trembling indicated his body still apparently needed. Above the throbbing resonating in his head, he could hear a low, guttural growl that seemed to be very close. It wasn't loud…just mildly threatening. Finally willing to accept the consequences, he took one very deep breath. He was greatly relieved that his efforts only caused him to smell the odorous mix of musty furniture, stale ale, and hydraulic fluid.

With some trepidation, he focused his mind to reach for the Force. He staved off his initial stab of panic when he realized that he could only feel the fringes of the Force—he could not access it directly. He reminded himself that this was an improvement over the situation he had faced when he first arrived. Even though the Force refused to respond to his call, it was comforting to know that it was still out there. He took that as an encouraging sign. Maybe his inability to access it was simply an unexpected side-effect of his journey. He hoped so. He didn't want to even consider the added difficulty to his task if he was Force-blind as well.

Finally willing to view his surroundings, he opened his eyes and was met with another set staring down at him. They were brilliant blue and framed by a small, gray, furry face. The shock of the encounter made him jerk back. That motion caused the petite creature to open its mouth wide, revealing needle-sharp teeth. It then issued an irritated hiss and agilely bounded from the padded perch directly above him.

"She doesn't like you," a gruff voice chuckled from across the room.

"Sorry." Luke's voice was raw and strained. The raspy sound of it surprised even him. He raised his right mechanical hand to rub his eyes. He paused for a moment as he gazed at it. Issuing another small sigh of relief at the realization that it was still attached, he continued the movement and then turned toward the direction of the voice.

Luke blinked several times as his eyes focused on a stout man sitting across from him in a worn brown recliner. He looked as if he was in his late fifties. His close-cropped dark hair had receded to ring around the sides of his head, leaving the top shiny and bald. His gray eyes were sharp and his pock-marked features strong. Luke immediately received the impression that this man had seen a great deal of life and had lived it on his own terms.

"Ah, don't sweat it," the man replied as he shifted position in the overstuffed chair. "She's only upset 'cause you're taking up her favorite spot on the couch."

Although still dazed and feeling incredibly weak, Luke strained to pull himself up to a sitting position. He swung his legs to the floor and twisted the thin blanket over his lap as he looked around to see what appeared to be a small apartment. It reminded him somewhat of the cells in the Temple, as the room housed most of the living quarters, even including a small kitchenette against one wall.

Clutter seemed to be the overwhelming theme of the decor. The small dinette table that sat near a half-opened, grime-streaked window was covered with flimsies and empty food containers. There were bundles of mussed clothing scattered about, either covering the few other chairs in the room or simply lying on the floor. Several of the piles were adorned with one or more of the same type of furry creatures as the one that had so warmly welcomed him when he had first opened his eyes.

Pittins, Luke reminded himself as he thought back to the one that Leia had given her daughter, Jaina, for her fourth birthday. At least, that was what these creatures somewhat resembled... Though these miniature beasts seemed much more lanky and unkempt than the white puff ball he remembered Mr. Whiskers to have been. These felines apparently shared this abode with the man sitting across from him—though he doubted that anyone else did. He couldn't imagine another person abiding for long in this much disarray.

Luke brought his focus back to the couch on which he was sitting, noting that it was as worn and dingy as the rest of the place. He wasn't surprised to find yet another pittin lying on the far end of the frayed backrest, though this one was black, orange, and white. It looked over its shoulder at him for a moment with appraising green eyes—then, with a flick of an ear, it turned in disinterest and curled tighter on its perch. Luke turned away as well and glanced at the low table in front of him. In the center of the table—amid the disheveled flimsies and empty plates—sat an array of grimy parts and a half-assembled repulsor motivator. That, then, must be the source of the hydraulic fluid odor. He cocked an eyebrow and looked back at the stranger.

"You brought me in here?" Luke croaked. His voice was still terribly shaky—as was the rest of him.

"Couldn't just leave you out there in the alley." The stranger shrugged his shoulders. "I needed to park my taxi—you were in the way."

Luke dropped his head to his chest and ran his fingers through his hair. "Thanks," he mouthed hoarsely.

The man leaned forward and extended his arm. "Name's Tycen Pike."

Luke reached out and grabbed the man's meaty hand. He winced as the movement seemed to amplify the throbbing in his brain and the queasiness in his stomach. "Luke," he responded. Despite his rather vulnerable condition, Luke could not help but feel that he was safe here—at least for the moment.

As he pulled away to lean back against the couch, the same furry beast that had greeted him so vehemently before hopped up onto the worn padded backrest of the couch. She settled down into the same spot as before and glared at him ominously, her tail swishing rapidly back and forth.

"All of these yours?" Luke asked as he waved his hand vaguely at the near dozen or so small creatures perched around the room.

"Naw, they don't belong to nobody," the gruff man replied. "Just surviving down here like the rest of us. They come by now and then for an easy meal and a soft place to lay their head."

"I see." Luke's own head was starting to spin again. He leaned forward and placed his face in his palms.

"No, you don't see," Tycen groused from across the room. "They pay their way... I ain't had trouble with vermin for years—least not the four-footed kind." Tycen shifted uneasily again. Luke noted that—despite his crusty attitude—his curmudgeonly benefactor was sharing his seat with a rather plump, striped orange pittin, his stout fingers absently kneading the back of its furry neck.

"Don't think I'm some sort of bleeding heart or nothing for allowing it," Tycen gruffly added as he turned his eyes away from the blond man.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Luke grinned slightly as he continued to gingerly cradle his aching head.

Without lifting his eyes, Luke realized that the other man had moved out of his chair. The echo of footsteps told him that Tycen had made his way to the kitchenette. After a few minutes, Luke listened to the man's approaching footsteps once more. Finally raising his head, he saw Tycen shove a few grimy gears out of the way and place a white mug of steaming caf onto the low table in front of him.

"You probably want something stronger than this," Tycen said. "But it doesn't look like you're in any shape for it."

Luke waved his hand dismissively before reaching out for the cup. "No," he countered. "This is fine. Thank you, again."

Bringing the mug containing the strong brew to his lips, he avoided the missing chip out of the rim and carefully sipped—hoping that his insides had finally had time to settle and now planned to stay in place. Thankfully, the only reaction he received was a warming sensation as the invigorating liquid eased down his raw throat.

"So," Luke ventured as he watched the grizzled man plop back down in the recliner (after carefully moving the plump feline to the side), "other than clearing out your parking space, why did you help me?"

"You reminded me of my sister's boy," Tycen said noncommittally. "Not by looks, mind you."

Luke cocked his head to the side in silence. Even without the Force to help him, he figured that he needed to wait to receive an explanation from the grim-faced man.

"He's a good kid," Tycen elaborated. "Hard working—loyal to a fault, but an honorable sort nonetheless. Back on Axxila—before the war—he signed up with the local navy and became part of their Antipirate fleet. Pirates don't care much for their work—bad for business, if you know what I mean. Anyway, a gang of them scum nabbed Firmus when he was home on leave. Beat him up pretty bad and left him for dead. Somebody found him—got him the help he needed. Saved my sis a lot of grief."

Tycen shrugged and ran a calloused hand over his bald head. "When I saw you there, I just figured I needed to do the same."

"It takes a big man to help a stranger," Luke said. "You're a good person."

"Don't spread it around," the stout man growled. "I've got a reputation to keep!"

A heavy pause fell between the two as Luke continued to sip at his caf. He could feel the other man's stare as he tried to assess what had brought about their unplanned encounter. If only he knew...

"Where you from, anyway?" Tycen asked.

Luke frowned. He obviously couldn't tell this man the truth. Besides, whether Tycen believed him or not, Luke was pretty sure that to say "the future" would cause him to be tossed right out of that grimy window in the back of the room.

Remembering the few moments of clarity he had experienced in the alley, he was pretty sure that he was now on Coruscant. Something was warning him not to mention that he resided here as well. He wasn't sure of all the differences that existed between the pre-Imperialized planet and how it appeared in his own time—but he didn't want to make his arrival here any more suspect by an inadvertent slip of the tongue.

"Tatooine," Luke finally offered. It was the best answer he could come up with for now.

"You a farmer or a spacer?"

Luke blinked at the man and his directness. "What?"

"I've been to that dustbowl," Tycen grinned derisively. "Ain't nothing but three types crazy enough to live there. You don't look like a hired gun, so you must be one of the other two."

"Farmer," Luke smiled. "At least, I was—once. I've been traveling a lot lately."

"A little old to be out searching for your destiny, don't you think?"

"You have no idea." Luke leaned back into the cushioned couch. His action caused his little gray nemesis to sit up and issue another hiss of disapproval as she swished her tail even more rapidly in annoyance.

"You ain't no high-end diplomat or rich exec type who just got rolled and left for dead are you?" Tycen probed hopefully.

"No." The blond man closed his eyes and rested his head against the frayed backrest.

"That'd be my luck," the older man muttered. "You probably don't have a credit to your name."

"Not at the moment."

"So why did I find you in my alley?" Tycen leaned forward with growing interest.

"Good timing?" Luke proffered a slight grin.

"Damn swoop gangs," The older man scowled as he shook his head cynically. They're getting so bad around here, decent people can't even walk the neighborhood no more... Things were already hard enough in this district—then with the war, everything's gone to Sith Hell."

Luke swallowed hard as he listened to the stern man's assumptions. In a way, Tycen was correct. He did feel as if he had just been pummeled. Even if it had been caused by the mysterious blend of energies that had transported him rather than a group of nefarious street criminals, the incapacitating pain had been just as intense—possibly more so. Still, an inner sense of guilt was stirring him to comment.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," he countered.

"Look who's talking," he huffed. "Don't get me wrong—Coruscant ain't no worse than any other planet. Matter of fact, it's better than most. Just the last few years," Tycen shook his head again in disgust, "everybody's been only looking out for themselves. Seems there ain't nobody left to watch out for the little guy."

Luke furrowed his brow as he contemplated Tycen's words. They felt wrong to him. There shouldn't be such chaos in the streets. Not if he had traveled back to a point before the rise of the Empire. There was still a legitimate government in place to oversee the galaxy, still an open society and unity among sentient species. This was a time before derision and segregation infiltrated down to the populace. When the guardians of the Galaxy remaining strong, and…

"What about the Jedi?" Luke found himself asking.

"What about 'em?" Tycen growled.

"They've pledged themselves to maintaining peace—and they're devoted helping others."

"Great press," Tycen said contemptuously. "Don't you believe it. If you ain't a politician or dignitary, they've got no time for you. They lock themselves away in that pristine temple of theirs and keep their heads in the stars."

Luke frowned. "That's a pretty grim view."

The older man tipped his head to the side in resigned acknowledgment. "At least I don't get disappointed much no more."

Luke simply nodded. His head hurt too much to engage in anything more than cursory conversation.

"Well, I ain't getting rich sitting here." Tycen pulled himself out of the chair and began moving toward what Luke assumed was the exterior door. "Time's credits—if you know what I mean."

Luke jerked forward, regretting the movement immediately as waves of nausea crashed over him. "I'll get out of your way," he winced as the tightened the blanket around him.

"Ah, hells," Tycen shook his head. "Stay here as long as you need—least 'til your head clears. Besides, you really can't go out on the town like that." He smiled, showing gaps between his yellowed teeth.

"Probably not."

The man waved a stout arm in the general direction of the kitchenette. "You may find something in there that won't poison you. Course—you'll need to share with the rest of the house guests."

Luke clamped his jaws tight as he fought for control of his roiling gut. Barely hearing his host's words—and not even wanting to think about food at the moment—he managed to nod numbly.

"Fresher's over there." Tycen jutted his bristled chin toward the back of the room. "And you can put those on." Again, the man tipped his head—this time to a pile of wrinkled clothes lying on the side table next to the couch. "They're clean enough."

Luke tried to express his thanks, but he wasn't willing to trust himself to speak at the moment. He opted for a wave of his hand and another silent nod.

"Don't know why I'm even bothering to go out today," Tycen grumbled as he made his way through the apartment and shrugged on his heavy coat. "Not with the local neighborhoods still locked down in curfew. But with that big hubbub going on at the Senate Plaza, I may still be able to scare up a fare or two." Tycen stopped when he reached the door and turned back toward the blond man, a look of true concern in his gray eyes. "Just take it easy the rest of the day...and don't bother waiting up."

As the apartment door clicked shut, Luke was left to marvel at the conflicting words and actions of his cantankerous host. Without the Force to help him, he couldn't quite come up with a true feel for the man, but he was grateful for the his help nonetheless. Luke wondered if their meeting was purely chance or if Master Hatu had somehow managed to arrange it. He guessed it really didn't matter at this point. Glancing to his left, he narrowed his eyes as he met the hateful stare of the small gray creature scowling at him, her blue eyes glowing like the…

Luke was instantly seized with a stab of panic. His mind snapped to the thought of the crystal globe whose safe possession had been stressed to him by both B-Tak and Master Hatu. Dismissing his maladies for the moment, he began frantically riffling through the clutter around the couch and tables in desperate hope of finding it. His frenzied search only managed to once again irritate the little gray pittin. She hissed and swatted at him aggressively as he tousled the couch cushions.

It wasn't here! He sank back down in the couch and groaned as he cradled his throbbing head and rested his elbows on his knees. What was he going to do now? The thought of rushing out of the apartment to search the alley where he had arrived came crashing into his brain, but he didn't know where, exactly, that location would be. It had to be close by, but how would he be able to distinguish it from the other dingy back streets he imagined existed in the area? He had his doubts that he would even recognize it.

In addition, stumbling around the neighborhoods of Coruscant in only a worn blanket would definitely attract attention. He could not afford that. He would have to wait until Tycen returned. Hopefully, the man would remember seeing the globe. If not…Luke really didn't even want to contemplate what that would mean at the moment. He glanced once more at the little gray beast glowering at him.

"Don't get too comfortable," Luke warned as he waggled a finger at the furry beast. "I'll be back." He slowly stood up on shaky legs. Wrapping the blanket tightly around him and holding it securely with one hand, he reached over and grabbed the pile of donated clothes with the other. Leaning heavily on the furniture as he passed by, he made his way to the fresher.

***

Luke leaned heavily against the age-yellowed ceramic tile and let the steaming water run over his head and back. Despite the fact that he did not have access to the Force, the hot shower was doing an amazing job of clearing his muddled senses. Along with endeavoring to bring back his clarity, he was using this time to contemplate his most recent visions. This was, after all, his first opportunity to do so, and he was taking full advantage of it.

Although he would be just as content to dwell on the blissful memories of the few precious moments he had spent with Mara, he knew there was so much more content in his vision to deal with. No matter how comforting her words were, they had been steeped in mystery. The same went for the location of their encounter. Even if Mara had not stressed for him to remember the scenes, he was certain that the images of that peaceful meadow, the dramatic waterfalls, and the majestic lake house would be emblazoned in his memory for quite some time. How could that location be his beginning? He had never seen any planet as beautiful as that before. Even now, he wasn't sure that it could even be a real place. Luke closed his eyes and grimaced. If only he could figure out what it all meant.

The puzzling meeting with his father was also weighing heavily on his mind. The odd sensations that he had experienced when he had first stepped into the obelisk would not release him. It had felt as if he had entered the Force itself. Maybe that was why he was so sure that what had occurred was not simply a memory-influenced vision. The ebony clad man he had come upon was his father. He was positive that the encounter was real. At least as real as what he had experienced when he had once talked to the essence of old Ben on Dagobah.

What troubled him the most, however, was his father's terse reply to his inquiry. Luke had asked him point blank how to help him—how to prevent his fall to the Dark Side. Instead of responding to Luke's question, he had simply said: "Save your mother." The more Luke thought about the exchange, the more frustrated he became.

Why couldn't his father have just answered the question? If Luke only knew the reason for Anakin's downfall, he would do all in his power to prevent it from happening. After his talk with Master Hatu, he was slowly coming to the realization that this path was the one that his heart truly wanted to follow. But with no information to guide him, he was totally impotent to intercede.

Trying to analyze the exchange logically, he wondered if his father's answer had been his own enigmatic way of telling his son that nothing could be done. But if Anakin Skywalker's fall was inevitable, he should have just said so. Then, at least, Luke could figure out a way to get to Mustafar and follow through with his original plan.

Luke exhaled heavily to try and release some of his building anxieties. He let his mind drift to calmer thoughts about his mother. He knew nothing about her other than that she had died shortly after he and Leia were born. He had no idea how, why, or where she had passed. If his father's words had simply been uttered as one last self-sacrificing act to rectify the remnants of a shattered family, then why hadn't he at least given Luke her name? Without even that knowledge, Luke had no clue as to how to find her.

He realized that the one person who would know the most about his mother would be his father himself. But the thought of encountering him seemed to only bring back the queasiness to his insides that he thought his hot shower had dissipated. How would he even approach the man? What would he say? How could he possibly introduce himself? A smile creased his lips at the thought of the absurdity of their first meeting: "Hello, Father. I'm your forty-eight year-old son who hasn't been born yet..." Luke groaned aloud at the thought. If someone would ever approach him in a like manner, his first instinct would be to bolt away from the lunatic. He didn't even want to imagine what reaction he would receive from a man half his age. No, even without access to the Force, Luke knew with every fiber of his being that he could not rush right out and confront his father. He had to be patient—although he had always struggled to be so.

Feeling the water temperature begin to cool, Luke shut off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. Drying himself with a thin towel he had found crammed into a small linen closet, he quickly began to dress. The donated clothes that had been left for him were actually clean—but they were incredibly wrinkled. Although both men were about the same height, Tycen had several inches of girth on Luke. At least the belt that had been with the pile was cinch style. Luke pulled it tight to take up the excess waistband, leaving the tails of the white button-down shirt to hang freely over it.

Wiping the steam off the small cracked mirror over the sink, Luke looked at his reflection and frowned. He appeared nearly as ragged as he felt. His complexion was visibly pale and hallow. Although the dark smudges had lessened, his eyes were still reddened and puffy. His beard had gone a full week without trimming and only added to his disheveled, vagrant appearance.

He began to rake his partially dried hair off his forehead with his fingers, but he stilled his hand before doing so. Leia had been correct when pointing out that he hadn't worn his hair this long in decades. He noted with some surprise that it had grown long enough for the ends to once again curl slightly at the nape of his neck. Without the usual dressing to keep it orderly and swept back, his untamed blond locks hung naturally down over his ears, hiding most of his gray as it did so. His bangs covered his eyebrows and nearly fell into his eyes. A twinge of vanity caused him to realize that it did make him look far younger than his forty-eight years.

When he had last worn his hair like this, he had still been a rebel—a reckless youth who acted first and thought about the consequences later, an idealistic dreamer who sought adventure and excitement around every turn. That adolescent version of Luke Skywalker would have jumped at this opportunity to change the past. The mature relic that stared back from within the mirror wondered if that irrepressible youth still dwelled somewhere in his heart.

To help him accomplish this absurd task, Luke was sure he would somehow need to resurrect that ambitious youthful side again. He pulled his hand away and looked deeply into his reflection. He would leave his hair alone… for now. It might inspire his younger self to make an appearance when he would be needed most.

Luke stepped back into the main room of the apartment and glanced around. He had no desire to even look at food at the moment, so he avoided the side of the room that housed the small kitchenette. What did catch his attention, however, was the antiquated communications terminal sitting in the opposite corner. He walked the few paces it took to cover the distance and pulled out the chair to allow him access to the input terminal. The motion disturbed the black and white pittin who had been stretched out across the padded seat cushion, causing it to mew loudly as it lazily hopped away.

Sitting down in front of the terminal, he glanced over the equipment. Even in this time, he was sure that it would be considered out-dated and nearly obsolete. Turning it on, it seemed he needed to wait an exorbitant length of time before fuzzy blue images formed onto the wall-mounted screen. As soon as he figured that they had become as clear as they would get, he began scanning through the HoloNet channels. He was not sure what he would find, but any information he could glean from the current broadcasts would probably help him better acclimate to his surroundings.

Luke reclined back in the chair as he noted channel after channel was filled with rehashed images of the space battle and subsequent planetary bombardment that had been taking place during his arrival. Master Hatu had definitely found an appropriate distraction; it seemed that the entire galaxy had been preoccupied with the events of the confrontation. As he continued to watch the progression of images and listen to the accompanying reporter's commentary, he soon realized why...

"...emergency crews are still searching for survivors throughout the most devastated sectors of Coruscant," a blue skinned Twi'lek female reported as she stood in front of a smoldering mass of burning wreckage. "There are still only preliminary reports available regarding the toll of causalities related to this vile Separatist attack, but they will be far less than what would have occurred without the valiant efforts of our own 'Hero With No Fear…'"

Luke stiffened and drew himself to attention at the mention of his father's rather illustrious title. He leaned forward as he tried to better view the blurry images of the transmission.

"…Behind me is all that remains of the Invisible Hand—the flagship of the Separatist fleet. It is actually only half of the original super-structure, however. Damaged beyond measure by an onslaught of Republican battle cruisers, it had broken apart in the upper atmosphere and was hurling down to one of the most populated sectors of the planet. Without intervention, the burning wreckage would have destroyed much of the Senatorial Sector. If it were not for the actions of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, the Republic would never be the same..."

Luke shifted uncomfortably at the reporter's prophetic statement. He brought a hand up to rub over his face for a moment before focusing once again on the transmission.

"…Once again, we present our own exclusive footage of the most extraordinary event to have occurred in a millennia—and one of the most amazing feats of skill and piloting that this reporter has ever had the privilege to witness…"

The Twi'lek continued speaking. As she did, the video feed changed to a replay of a giant battle cruiser glowing brightly from its entry into the atmosphere, flames and chunks of debris splintering off behind it as it careened down toward the surface of Coruscant.

"…According to the official account as released by the Chancellor's office, Knight Skywalker—along with his wingman—boarded the enemy ship despite the continual heavy bombardment by the Republican fleet. With no concern for his own safety, brave Skywalker fought his way through countless battalions of battle droids and rushed to save our cherished leader from his bonds. Once our beloved Supreme Chancellor was safe, it was left to General Skywalker to save hundreds of thousands of innocent Coruscanti lives by practically single-handedly piloting the remnants of the disabled ship to a safe landing in an unpopulated industrial area…"

The Holo images switched to focus on the reporter once again.

"…Despite the long established policy of the Jedi to refuse the recognition of individual acts performed by any member of their Order, our benevolent Supreme Chancellor has insisted on honoring the heroic deeds of this one extraordinary Jedi Knight. We take you now—live—to the courtyard of the Galactic Senate for the ceremony…"

Luke leaned back in the chair once more and looked away from the flickering blue images. He stroked his beard distractedly as he mulled over what he had just seen. He had arrived in the middle of the battle of Coruscant—the last desperate action taken by the Separatist insurgency before the end of the Clone Wars.

Luke rummaged through his mind to freshen his memories of what he had been taught of the battle from his schooldays. He vaguely remembered learning of then-Chancellor Palpatine's kidnapping and eventual rescue by the Clone Army, but there had never been any mention of Jedi intervention in the incident. He had also found no record of it in the Jedi Archives—or any mention of the ceremony he was now watching. He furrowed his brow as he began concentrating once again on the transmission. His jaw clenched tightly and his still tender stomach flipped as he noted the speaker standing at the podium.

Luke did not need to read the caption along the bottom of the screen to recognize the (soon to be declared) Emperor making his grandiose speech. Although Palpatine was much younger and unravaged in appearance, Luke could clearly recognize the evil being disguised within. Even listening to the strong voice, he could hear a hint of the vile creature he had faced more than a quarter-century ago.

What he marveled at now was that no one else standing on the platform apparently saw it. The disguised Sith was surrounded by dignitaries. Standing to his right were several apparent Senators and diplomats. To his left was the unmistakable image of Master Yoda. Next to him was an imposing, bald, dark-skinned man who by appearance must have been another Jedi Master. Although both Jedi wore shuttered expressions that indicated their feelings of unease, Luke wondered if it was due to their close proximity to the undeclared Sith or merely due to their displeasure in being required to attend such a display of accolade to begin with.

As Palpatine rambled through the details of his abduction and ultimate rescue, the camera panned back to reveal two additional figures standing on the steps just below and to the left of the podium. The shorter of the two appeared to be older and wore a well trimmed beard. He was dressed in the traditional light-colored Jedi uniform. The tall man next to him wore a similar cut of clothes, but they were much darker. As the camera began to close in on the two Jedi, Luke's eyes widened as the blurriness of the transmission sharpened and he recognized the taller man by the same strong features he had once viewed fleetingly so long ago in the Endor forest.

"He's so young..." Luke whispered aloud.

His father's image was undeniable. Seeing him now only reminded Luke how close in age he currently appeared to be to his nephew, Jacen. But it wasn't the appearance of Anakin Skywalker that had captured his attention and caused him to utter his disbelief aloud. Instead—Luke was mesmerized by the other man standing at his father's side.

Although he didn't need the confirmation, Luke couldn't help but grin when the captions flashed along the bottom of the screen that officially identified the two as Generals Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. As the camera moved back once again, Luke kept his eyes set on the image of the man who he would come to know as a reclusive hermit living on the edge of the Jundland Wastes, the man who would rescue him from a scouting party of Tusken Raiders and first introduce him to the world of the Jedi, the man who he would helplessly watch be cut down by the blade of Darth Vader. Here he was—so very much alive and appearing to be quite enjoying himself. Unlike Master Yoda and the mysterious dark-skinned counterpart, Ben's demeanor was much more relaxed and almost... prideful.

Watching the pair of Jedi, Luke was sure that there was some silent communication transpiring between the two men... He noted the uneasy shifting of his father's posture and the sidelong glances he made to the man standing next to him. The more Ben nodded and wistfully smiled at the taller man, the more self-conscious and uncomfortable Anakin seemed to become. His nervous appearance was the last thing that Luke would ever expect to see from the future Darth Vader.

Keeping his attention on the images of Obi-Wan and his father, Luke barely noticed that Chancellor Palpatine had finished his speech and relinquished his position on the podium. Luke silently admonished himself for being so distracted and re-focused his attention on the proceedings as another dignitary adorned in fine silks made his way to the microphone. The caption along the bottom of the screen displayed the name Bail Organa and his title of Senator and Viceroy of Alderaan. Luke leaned forward to try to better make out the man's features. So this was Leia's adoptive father. The tall, dark-haired man began praising the efforts and accomplishments of the Jedi Order.

As Organa's political pandering continued, Luke could not help but allow his attention to lapse once more. He never could bring himself to attentively listen to political speeches; Leia had chided him about that deficiency for years. Instead, he turned his attention back to the two Jedi standing on the steps. Even through the HoloNet camera's eye, it was so very clear from the way these men stood and the way they silently interacted that these two were more than comrades—they were friends—brothers… What had gone so horribly wrong? Luke was so absorbed by his thoughts that he almost missed when the tall Senator moved away from the podium and passed over a rolled flimsy containing a proclamation from the Galactic Senate into the outstretched hand of General Kenobi.

It wasn't until the next presenter made her way to stand in front of the podium that Luke's attention was pulled away from the two Jedi and directed back to the event at hand. In the background, he could still hear Senator Organa expounding the brave actions of the Jedi. However, Luke's eyes were drawn in wonder to the young woman standing in the center of the screen. She was adorned in an extravagant outfit accentuated by an impossibly full hoop skirt and an intricately complex hairstyle. His breath caught in his throat when her name, Padmé Amidala, Senator from Naboo, appeared under her image. If he didn't know better, he would have thought her to be a younger version of Leia.

As the scene continued on the display monitor, a young Anakin stepped forward, bent down on one knee, and dutifully lowered his head. The Nabooian Senator gracefully placed a commemorative medallion around his neck. Then, just as quickly it had begun, the moment was over. Senator Amidala stepped back to her place on the side of the stage. His father rose to full height and bowed—first to the Chancellor, then to the assembled crowd, and finally to the beautiful young Senator.

As the presentation unfolded, Luke became distracted once again by his own thoughts of a similar award ceremony back on Yarvin IV. It was now only a distant memory. The event had been hastily put together shortly after the destruction of the Death Star. He and Han had been awarded medals similar to what he had watched the young Senator present to the Jedi Knight. Luke could still remember how he had been so full of the euphoria of victory—so swept up by the thrill of adventure and ecstasy of success. It had only been later when the reality of the death and destruction caused by his actions had come crashing down upon him.

With his mind entangled in his own memories, Luke failed to notice how his father's appearance and mannerisms had changed dramatically as soon as the young man's eyes met those of the petite Senator—and how Anakin no longer acted as someone wishing to be anywhere else, how the galaxy that surround the two of them seemed to simply melt away.

If he had been paying attention, Luke might have also noted how the young Senator seemed to rest her small hands on his father's broad shoulders just a hair longer than necessary when draping the medallion around his neck—or seen the slight blush that reddened the beautiful young woman's features in response to his father's lopsided grin as stepped back to his place. Too busy mulling over his own memories, Luke saw none of it.

Only when the HoloNet camera pulled away to show the surging crowd inhabiting the plaza—and heard the Twi'lek reporter once again began her commentary—did Luke emerge from his reverie. He pulled himself out of the chair and absently waved a hand toward the monitor. He winced when he realized that nothing had happened and then leaned over to manually flip the monitor off. Although only a minor inconvenience, his inattentive action had clearly demonstrated how much he relied on the Force for even the most menial tasks. He could only hope that this temporary period of adjustment would quickly dissipate so that he could access it freely once more.

Moving slowly, he walked to the center of the room and sat down heavily on the worn couch. He braced his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his graying hair. There were so many questions flooding his mind. There was so much that he needed to know—and know quickly. He needed to understand how Palpatine could move around freely in the company of so many Jedi without raising suspicion. He needed to discover why the young Jedi Knight who he had just watched uncomfortably fidget about with self-conscious nervousness would soon became the most fearsome enmity in the galaxy. And thinking back to his father's admonition, he needed to discover the identity of his own mother and find a way to protect her as well.

Luke dropped his hands and heaved a sigh. He scanned the dingy apartment once more, noting that his little gray nemesis had apparently had enough of his company and abandoned the apartment to brave the streets of Coruscant. He grinned derisively. He wouldn't be missing her company.

His eyes focused on the partially assembled motivator on the table in front of him. He assumed that it must be a replacement part for Tycen's air-taxi. He noted with some interest that the model appeared to be very similar to the motivators used in the oldest vaporators he had maintained back on the farm on Tatooine. Luke reached forward to grab an oil-soaked rag and one of the gears that had lain on the table.

As he began to clean the grime-covered part, he reviewed what he had just seen transpire. Above all else that he had observed, his mind continued to be drawn back to the image of Ben—Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had been his father's Master—had trained him for years. Their close relationship was explicitly obvious to the most naïve observer. He had to know more about his father than anyone else. Remembering back to the far older version of the man that he had known, Luke could clearly recall the shattered spirit, the deep remorse that filled the man's eyes. Ben had greatly suffered from both guilt and regret for losing Anakin to the Dark Side. Luke could commiserate with him completely; as he was sure he shared similar feelings regarding his failure with Jacen. If only someone had warned him…

Luke started at the comprehension of his thoughts. That was it. That was the direction that he needed to follow. He needed to warn Obi-Wan about Anakin's future fate. He was sure that the man he once knew would do everything in his power to help his virtual brother. He just needed to be enlightened to the threat.

Of course, coming into close proximity to a Jedi Master was totally against the Temporal Ward's warning. He had no idea if his "personal vibration relative to that of his surroundings" had yet stabilized. With his Force sensitivity continuing to be basically non-existent, he seriously doubted it. But even if Obi-Wan discovered that he had broken galactic law and traveled through time, would he turn Luke in to the authorities? Luke was sure that the old man he had fleetingly known wouldn't, but he had no idea how this younger version of that man felt about circumventing established laws. But if Luke could be convincing enough in his argument and impart the dire urgency behind his mission, could Obi-Wan be persuaded to focus on the greater good rather than the method he had used to get here? Would the Jedi Master help him save the Galaxy?

Coming to a decision, Luke realized that own safety in regards to the magnitude of what needed to be accomplished mattered little. He had to do all he could to correct the timeline and prevent the coming disasters—and logically, this was the best path to follow. He had to put his trust in a man he wouldn't officially meet for nearly twenty years.

Luke picked up a hydrospanner from the table in front of him and began to re-attach the cleaned gear back onto the half-assembled motivator. He knew that his mechanical tinkering would help him focus on the details of his new plan. His overall goals were set. First thing tomorrow morning, he would locate the alley where he arrived and retrieve the crystal orb, and then he would go to the Jedi Temple and find a way to contact Obi-Wan Kenobi.