1 NRE

The vast ballrooms of the former Imperial Palace were teeming with guests there to attend to the first inaugural Liberation Day ball. The rooms were much like Mara remembered, except flags with the symbol of the Rebel Alliance - no, the New Republic - were hung where the Imperial crest had once been proudly displayed. Karrde was at her side, the passive look on his face concealing a simmering excitement. To see the high vaulted ceilings, intricately moulded architecture and gilded trim must be impressive for a first visitor, but to Mara the sight was so familiar it was difficult to share his enthusiasm.

The dress Shada had lent her was beautiful, if a little daring for the occasion. It was made from a dark green shimmersilk, and the full skirt fluttered pleasantly around her legs. The front of the bodice was tight-fitting and high necked, but there was no back at all to the dress, the material skirting around the side of her breasts and leaving her skin bare from the nape of her neck until the skirt began at the small of her back. Her wore her hair unbound, allowing the loose curls to flow around her shoulders, and had also borrowed a circlet of jade glitterstones from Shada which she wore on her crown.

Mara had asked Shada when she'd ever had occasion to wear such an outfit, and the other woman had simply looked at her with knowing gaze and raised one eyebrow. Mara hadn't enquired further. It actually felt good to be back in finery, and Mara couldn't deny that she sometimes missed the fashionable clothes she'd once worn to events at the Imperial Palace. Any modesty had been drilled out of her early in life, and as they walked through the crowd Mara could see that her dress was hardly the most audacious in the room. Republics and Empires may rise and fall, Mara thought to herself with amusement, but the fashionistas hardly seemed to change at all.

"Ah, there is Minister Organa," Karrde said as he spotted Leia over the other side of the room, standing with her husband who kept tugging at the high collar of his full dress uniform. "I do want to talk to her about her proposal."

"Go ahead," Mara urged him, although she didn't really want to be stuck the whole night chatting about regulating trade and legitimising the smuggling profession. She didn't want to be there in the first place, but it was her duty to support Karrde in his business dealings, and it would be a snub for her not to attend when Organa Solo had singled her out with an invitation. That, and Mara had one other call of duty.

She found Luke propping up a wall on the side of the ballroom. He was dressed elegantly in black and grey, although several medals adorned the breast of his tunic.

"Hey, Skywalker," she greeted as she approached him. "You look very shiny."

Luke grimaced and brushed at the metal, as if he wanted to sweep them all off his chest. "Leia asked me to wear them. Since I resigned my commission she can't make me wear full dress like Han, but she was persuasive about these things." He looked her up and down and swallowed heavily. "You look very nice," he said, certain that he was meeting her eyes when he did so.

"There's that farmboy charm," she teased him, and his face creased into a self-deprecating smile. "You know I never took you for the unsociable type," she continued, leaning her back against the wall beside him. He'd certainly never wanted to stop talking when they were on Myrkr. "Why are you hiding over here?"

"I'm not, really," he said. "But this is such a formal event, I'm afraid I'm a bit out of my depth. I think I offended the Baroness Devela when I called her Madame."

Mara raised her eyebrows - among the rigid and pompus Coruscanti elite, that was indeed a faux pas. "You should have addressed her as My Lady."

"Well, I'm a farmboy, like you said Mara," he said genially. "I'm afraid I haven't gotten the hang of social protocols yet."

"It's a different kind of war," she agreed, surveying the room. "Except you never know whose side you're on. The seven highest ranking aristocratic houses own practically everything on Coruscant," she told him, leaning into him conspiratorially. "That's the Earl and Countess of House Willish over there - their family built half of the Senate District." She pointed out a pale elderly couple with white hair and pinched faces, then a dark skinned man and woman. "Next to them is the Baron Ravenlok and his daughter."

"Oh, I know Sidel," Luke told her, looking over at Sidel Ravenlok and giving her a small wave. Sidel smiled and waved in return, then inclined her head towards the elderly couple and rolled her eyes. "She was invaluable to the Alliance."

"So the rumors she married a Rebel are true," Mara mused. Even though Myrkr was in the Core and she was in the information business, Coruscanti gossip was slow to reach her. Not that she'd had a particular use for it, not like the old days.

"Yes, a good friend of mine, actually," Luke told her, and Mara fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he was. "He must be at home with their daughter," he added. "I don't know anyone else, though," he added, urging her to continue.

Mara scanned the room. "The Fileishi of House Tretril are by the bar, which doesn't surprise me," Mara continued to point out the various dignitaries. "Might as well be called House Lush." She wrinkled her nose in distaste, remembering an evening in which she'd been required to ferret some information from Count Fileishi. It had not taken too many drinks to get him talking, but the smell of his alcohol-laced breath still made her gag. "And the Giranis of the Pike House are here, interesting." Mara grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter as she studied the pair of Togrutas. That particular family had fled Coruscant in the early days of the Empire when the pro-human policies had started to form a clear pattern.

Of course, Mara had grown up learning that such actions had been necessary. The Separatist movement which had torn the galaxy apart during the Clone Wars had been primarily made up of non-humans. As such resentment had brewed, and Mara now saw that Palpatine had taken advantage of that for his own ends, her insides twisting bitterly at the realisation.

"The one thing you have to know about the aristocracy is that above all else, they're out for themselves,' Mara told him seriously. "They'll fawn over you, flatter you, and support you while your stock is high, and abandon you as soon as someone more useful comes along. They've seen the end of the Old Republic, the rise and fall of the Empire and now your New Republic is in power, but it makes no difference to them. Play along with their little games, and you'll do fine Skywalker," she advised.

Luke looked at her warily. "Where did you learn all of this?"

"Oh, I had to attend these for years," she waved her hand airily. "It's a good way to gather intel."

"Or stalk a target?"

Mara shrugged. "Sure."

They lapsed into silence, and Mara watched Luke surveying the crowd.

"Have you given any more thought to my offer?" Luke asked eventually, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Mara sipped her wine. "Yes."

"And?"

"And I'm still thinking." She wanted to broaden her powers and strengthen her connection with the Force, but Mara simply wasn't sure if she wanted to be a Jedi. It was an idea she had railed against her entire life, but on the other hand, it had turned out that practically everything she had ever believed in had been wrong. At the beginning of the night she'd been so sure that she was going to tell Skywalker no, but she found herself uncertain yet again.

She had a good life with Karrde's organisation, and there could be exciting times ahead if Organa Solo's plans came to fruition. And yet Mara couldn't shake the memory of her and Skywalker in the rain on Myrkr, her blaster pointed at his chest. Come with me, if you like, he'd said. So that I won't be the last anymore. The words kept running themselves over in her head.

"The Senate has agreed to let me refurbish the old Jedi Temple," Luke turned to her. "I'm going there tomorrow to explore - why don't you come with me? No pressure," he added quickly.

In truth she was somewhat curious about the Jedi Temple. After it had been sacked at the end of the Clone Wars the Emperor had sealed it shut and forbidden any to enter into the grounds.

"Alright..." she agreed. But before she could add any caveat, Sidel Ravenlok breezed over to them, her flowing pale blue gown setting off the dark tone of her skin to perfection.

"Hello, Luke," Sidel kissed his cheek in greeting, and Luke's unease fell away, smiling and embracing her in return. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" she asked as she pulled away.

"This is Mara Jade," Luke said, and Sidel smiled warmly as she shook Mara's hand.

"Forgive me, Mara," Sidel said. "Have we met before? You seem so familiar."

Mara had likely been below Sidel's notice in the Imperial Era. If the Ravenlok heir had noticed Mara at all she likely would have thought Mara was just another social climber looking for someone to latch onto. She didn't ever recall them crossing paths, although Mara had certainly known who she was. Nor had she guessed Sidel's rebel sympathies, which told Mara the woman knew how to keep her true motives hidden.

"I grew up in the Imperial Palace," Mara replied, unwilling to elaborate further. She did not miss the tiny, querying look Sidel gave to Luke.

"Mara works for Talon Karrde," Luke said smoothly.

"Oh, really?" Sidel's face lit up in a bright smile. "Leia was telling me all about her plans, they sound wonderful." She reached forward and linked her arm with Mara's. "You simply must introduce me to him Mara," she added, leading her away. "I'm sure you don't mind, Luke."

"Not at all," Luke smiled graciously. "See you tomorrow, Mara," he called after her. "1300 hours."

Mara let herself be led away by Sidel, seeing little point in resisting. She steeled herself for a warning from the woman, and wondered whether she had recognised her after all. Mara had been expecting a visit from Leia Organa Solo or her husband, urging her to stay away from Luke or pressing her to keep their secret about Darth Vader's true identity, but as yet there had been no contact. Sidel did however lead them over to where Leia was standing, for the moment alone. Mara couldn't help but appreciate Leia's perfectly fitting white gown and elaborate hairstyle, and yet she noticed that around her neck hung a simple silver chain and locket with an opal setting.

"Leia, dear," Sidel greeted her, finally releasing Mara to kiss Leia on the cheek. "We're looking for Talon Karrde, Mara here was going to introduce me."

"I'm afraid Han has enticed him away for a sabacc game," Leia recounted with a long suffering sigh, although she gently touched her locket. Then she turned to Mara and gave her a warm smile. "Hello, Mara. I'm so glad you could come."

Mara nodded politely, unsure if the warmth of the other two women was genuine or a front. She didn't dare try and reach out through the Force, knowing that Leia would likely detect any attempted probe.

"My brother tells me he's asked you to stay on Coruscant and train with him," Leia said evenly.

"Oh, are you a Jedi too Mara?" Sidel asked.

"No," Mara responded, shifting uncomfortably.

"Luke says that she's very strong in the Force," Leia told Sidel. "He want her to help him start his Jedi Academy."

"Oh, you must!" Sidel enthused. "Luke is a dear man, but he is so alone in this undertaking. And then we can see more of you, Mara."

Mara wasn't sure why Sidel wanted to see more of her, she'd barely spoken two words since they'd met. "I haven't decided whether to accept or not."

"I hope you do, Mara," Leia said, touching her arm lightly. Mara looked at the other woman in surprise. Did she simply want to keep Mara close to keep an eye on her? That couldn't be it, since if Leia was truly concerned about Mara's intentions, she'd want her as far away from Luke as possible. "If only to make me feel less guilty for not helping him myself." Leia smiled and Sidel gave a pearly laugh, but it seemed to Mara that there was a layer of truth behind the light comment.

But she wouldn't be pushed into this, Mara decided. Not by Karrde, not by Organa, and certainly not by Skywalker. She would go to the blasted Temple, but that would be the end of it.

29 NRE

With a blaze of blue streaking light, the Peerless Joy entered hyperspace. Svel leaned back into the pilot's chair, contemplating for a few moments before he went to confront his son. They hadn't expected to run into the Jedi that day, but Svel had known that it was bound to happen sooner or later, and had given Fin clear instructions not to fight the Grand Master alone. But his son had defied his order, lost his hand, and could have ruined everything Svel had spent years carefully planning. Svel did not try to dampen his disappointment or anger, but instead used to to fuel him, to solidify his resolve. His son needed a reminder that Svel was the Master, and his instructions were to be heeded no matter the situation.

Svel made his way back to main hold of the ship where Fin was crumpled in the couch beside the dejak table, nursing the stump of his arm. He looked up when Svel entered the room, his face a mixture of shame and fear.

"I told you not to confront Skywalker." Svel's voice was soft and dangerous. "You were not ready."

"Should I have run?" Fin asked, his dark eyes defiant and his tone sharp. "The Sith do not run."

"The Sith are patient," Svel told him harshly. "The Sith wait in the shadows for their opportunity. They do not strike before they are ready, and reveal to the enemy all of their weaknesses!"

"I'm tired of waiting," Fin rose, his tall frame seeming to fill the room. His fear melted away and was replaced with white-hot anger, so quick and sharp Svel almost flinched.

"I'm tired of lurking and hiding," Fin said, his voice venomous. "I'm tired of you, father. I'm more powerful than you, I know it. Skywalker knows it, I felt that from him. I don't need you anymore."

Svel felt his blood burn, and without warning he drew his saber, lunging at his son. Fin ignited his own blade, his eyes bright with anticipation. The two fought aggressively, their red blades clashing against one another furiously in the small ship's quarters. Despite his missing limb, Fin was not only holding his own, and Svel felt within his son a great surge in his Force power. It was almost as if there was a finite amount of usable Force in the room, and Fin was monopolising it, leaving Svel weakened and exposed.

Fin had finally tapped into the hatred and fury which would make him a true servant of the dark. And yet not even Svel was expecting his son to deliver a blow so powerful it knocked the saber from his hands as he was thrust back with a powerful Force push directed only by the flicker of Fin's dark eyes. Svel's back hit the hull of the ship painfully and he sank to the floor as his son advanced on him, red saber held against his throat. Fin's irises were rimmed orange and red, the expression on his face murderous and blazing with power and purpose.

Svel had always known that one day his son would kill him. It was the way of the Sith, after all; a Master to wield power, and an apprentice to covet until he was strong enough to take it. Palpatine was the exception of course, and as Darth Sidious he collected and discarded apprentices as he saw fit. And although Svel admired his former Emperor, he worshipped the Sith of old. So Svel accepted and expected that one day, his son would be strong enough to turn on him. It was not his fate to build the Sith dynasty - it was his son's. He was ready for death, if that was the act that would make his son a true Sith.

And yet Fin hesitated. He held the blade to his father's throat with his right hand, so close that Svel could almost feel the burn of it against his chin, but his son did not strike. Breathing heavily, Fin stared down at him, and Svel felt his son's anger recede. The saber deactivated, and Fin clipped it back onto his belt, his jaw clenching visibly.

Then he turned and stalked out of the room.

Fin walked through the corridors of his father's ship, hot tears stinging in his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He knew he should probably go to the medbay and get a droid to look at his arm, but Svel did not even slow down as he passed by the entrance, seeking something more important than treatment of a physical ailment.

He had sparred against his father many times, but never had they fought in such a way. Never had Fin felt the drive and power that coursed through him, and he found it incomprehensible. Why had he been able to summon up such brute force against his own father but not against Skywalker? Could it be he had felt his father's disappointment and anger so deeply that he'd had no choice but to strike back? And yet he had not been strong enough to make the killing blow, even though the dark side had whispered to him to do it.

But how could he? Svel was his father. The only one who had ever cared about Fin, the only family he had. But Fin knew now that he was stronger in the Force than his father, his potential greater - he had felt it when Skywalker had reached out to him, felt Skywalker's own surprise and perhaps a little fear at Fin's power. He'd also sensed a strange familiarity, as if Fin had felt Skywalker's presence before. Or perhaps not Skywalker's presence himself, but a presence that closely matched Skywalker's.

To be alone with his thoughts, Fin retreated into the monuments room, a chamber which had been set aside for the treasures he and his father had accumulated. They had spent years roaming the galaxy together, chasing down leads and rumors to find every Sith and Jedi artifact that they could; holocrons, crystals and artifacts. The mask of Darth Revan. The lost Sith scrolls of Andeddu. The ancient Darkstaff, although the power had long been drained from it. Lumiya's lightwhip. The skull of his mother's rancor, which had perished not long after she herself had died. As a boy, Fin had sat inside its large jaws, pretending that it was still alive, that it was carrying him carefully in its mouth while his mother rode on top, taking them to safety.

The collection was precious, for through these items and the Force Fin had seen the past. Palpatine's Senate robes had shown him it was Darth Sidious he had orchestrated his own appointment to Chancellor. The lightsaber of Mace Windu had shown Fin the power and art of shatterpoints, although he had yet to master them. He had seen Jedi and Sith history through these objects, which held more information than any holocron.

At the heart of his collection was his treasure trove of Skywalker artifacts. An engine from an old T-16 Skyhopper, a blaster rumoured to have been from the rebel base on Hoth. A red-bladed shoto Fin had paid a bounty hunter an obscene amount to steal. A deactivated R7 droid Skywalker had once used when his R2 unit was unavailable.

Fin searched through his treasures, placing his hands on each of them in turn and drawing out their sense memories, trying to place the familiarity that had passed between him and Skywalker when they had dueled. He had only ever been able to glimpse fragments from Skywalker's objects, and at a much lower success rate than Fin was used to. It was if the Force had blanketed Skywalker with its protection, shielding any outsider from gleaning too much of his personal history.

Finally Fin came to the pride and joy of his collection - a blue-bladed lightsaber recovered from the bowels of Cloud City on Bespin. The hand itself had long since disintegrated, but Fin had been able to track down the saber, although it had taken many years. Skywalker's first lightsaber, the one legend told had once belonged to his father Anakin.

It had never yielded anything to him in the past, as if the Force was guarding it's secrets close with this object more than any other. But this time as soon as Fin picked up the handle with his right hand he was assaulted by a barrage of images - the face of a young teenager alight with pride and accomplishment as the saber's construction was completed - a frantic brattle against a white-haired Sith Lord and the sharp, burning pain of his opponent's saber slicing through his arm - the loving embrace of a dark-eyed woman - the wry smile of a friend and comrade as they fought back to back - the impertinent laugh of a young Togruta as she took down a squad of droid soldiers.

Fin's hand began to burn against the saber's handle which had become unbelievably hot, but he held on. These were not Skywalker's memories, he was seeing, Fin realised - they belonged to someone else.

Clarity dawned, and Fin saw once again the massacre of the Tusken camp on Tatooine. Except this time, he was the dragon with its blue fire and sharp claws, slaughtering all in his path with precision and rage. And finally, he saw his own reflection in a looking glass hung on one of the Tusken tents. Tall, sandy-haired and with a Jedi padawan braid - a man Fin had seen many times in his own research of the Clone Wars. And yet this man was fuelled by rage and pain and anger, the intensity of it sending an electrical current through Fin, making his grip loosen on the saber's hilt.

Fin backed away, breathing heavily as the saber fell to the floor with sickening clatter. The dragon had been Anakin Skywalker, still a padawan, he realised. That was the Skywalker-like presence he'd felt before, he just hadn't known who it was. There had been darkness in the hero's heart so young, although the stories about him made that difficult to believe. But Fin was seeing a history through sense memories that could not be denied.

Somewhat hesitantly, Fin knelt down on the floor and reached for the saber again. This time, he channelled the burning pain the contact caused back through the Force and used it to fuel himself. His thirst for knowledge and clarity overcame the pain, and Fin clutched the saber tighter, opening himself up to the Force and tearing the memories from the object violently.

This time, Fin saw Anakin Skywalker with yellow eyes and a dark hood, leading Clone Troopers up the steps of the Jedi Temple. With the same lightsaber Fin now held, he cut down his Jedi brethren in the vast chambers, slaughtering the younglings too trusting and surprised to resist. He saw him reach out a hand and make the dark-eyed woman, heavy with child, clutch at her throat; he saw an epic duel in fire against his former friend and comrade, ending in unimaginable pain as his flesh melted away. He saw himself kneeling before his Sith master, and being granted his new name.

Breathing heavily, Fin came out of the trance, finally knowing the terrible and exhilarating truth the Force had tried so hard to hide from him before.

Anakin Skywalker was not only the dragon, Fin realised. Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader.