Lyrics: "Wherever You Will Go," by Charlene Soraia, from Moonchild.

Chapter Twenty

If a great wave shall fall,

It will fall upon us all.

And between the sand and stone,

Could you make it on your own?

Approximately two weeks earlier...

Tibor Taro was not whole until his son, Omree, was in his arms.

Until that moment, Tibor had tried to maintain the mask of stoicism that was proper when dealing with non-Iktotchi, who so often judged his kind with suspicion and mistook every blink or indrawn breath as prescience. No matter that he'd not heard the Song in earnest since he'd left his homeworld, years ago. No matter that his understanding of future events were discordant at best. It was common knowledge among the galaxy that Iktotchi could "see" what was to come; it was why his people were banned from houses of chance and gambling establishments. They had an unfair advantage.

Perhaps so. Perhaps not. What did a few rounds of sabacc matter, in the grand symphony of the galaxy?

Tibor had never cared about such petty affairs as gambling. His goal, his mission, ever since the death of his beloved wife, was to foster peace and understanding among his people and the rest of the galaxy. So it was he'd found himself far away from Iktotch, a diplomat to the great Republic that had stood for thousands of years, a bastion of democracy.

For his trouble, his son was stolen.

Heedless of the mud that clung to Omree's clothing, Tibor hugged his baby closer, breathing in his son's scent. A little of himself, a little of his beloved Aja. Quite a bit of swamp. But he didn't care. Tibor embraced his son and wept with joy.

Omree, too, was filled with joy, though his emotions were tempered by a long, fearful few days. He could not speak yet, not truly, but neither father nor son needed speech to communicate. Within Tibor's mind, Omree's impressions of the daring rescue made themselves quite evident.

Fire! Da, there was fire, and big boom! Loud, metal screech like Uncle Sero's tusk-cats when they hungry. And blasters and dead droids, and the one man in armor had a glowstick...

Too overwhelmed with relief to pick up more than a basic understanding of Omree's impressions, Tibor only sent his son waves of love and affection through the telepathic bond all Iktotchi family members shared.

At last, when he collected himself enough to speak, he looked at the Human Jedi who had returned Omree. She was petite, to Tibor's way of thinking, delicate-looking as were most of her kind. Her dark eyes were warm, though ringed with gray exhaustion, and her beige robes were splattered with the same mud that covered his son's shirt. But her smile was wide.

"I cannot..." Tibor nearly choked on the words, and tried again. "I cannot thank you enough."

"You don't have to," she said, bowing elegantly. "We're all just glad he's safe."

"My men have reported that all Separatist presences in Caprin have been eliminated." One of the Republic clone troopers stood beside the Jedi; this one's armor made him seem more solid, but Tibor still thought the Humans all looked so fragile.

Tibor exhaled with relief, though a flare of chagrin struck him. He'd been so focused on getting his son back, he'd all but forgotten the rest of Balasi. The planet's rich rhodium mines were essential to the Republic's efforts, but the planetary leaders had been unwilling to deal with the Republic directly; he'd been in negotiation for the resources, and had foolishly brought Omree with him.

Before Omree's abduction, Tibor had not wanted to return to Iktotch, like so many of his and Omree's people were these days. It felt too much like giving up.

But after nearly losing all he valued in this galaxy, perhaps it was better to return home, to safety and family. Perhaps it was best that Omree grow up on Iktotch. Tibor's brother had suggested as much, citing a growing dark discord in the galaxy as a reason to return home. "The Song does not lie," he'd said to Tibor many times. "A shadow falls across the galaxy; a great wave is going to crash."

Tibor's work here was done. Though the cost had been far too high, the one thing his son's kidnapping had accomplished was to prove the Republic's mettle to the Balasian rulers. They'd signed the trade agreement last night. All that was left to do was manage a few small details, then Tibor and Omree could return home.

The thoughts were fleeting. Still hugging his son, Tibor cast a faint smile between Jedi and clone, hoping they understood its significance. "That is good news," he said to the clone, who nodded once. "Your men are to be commended."

Omree tugged at one of his father's horns, curving gracefully down his chin. That one, Da. That one had a glowsword! Swoosh! Zssooom! Within Tibor's mind, the distinctive sound of a lightsaber echoed, but Tibor pushed the notion aside. Surely the boy was confused; he'd been through so much, after all.

Hush now, little one, he sent back, though he ensured the request was filled with love.

Omree sighed deeply, a pout crossing his chubby face, and for one moment he looked so much like his mother...

It was time to leave, but Tibor was not quite ready. He glanced at the Jedi again. "Omree and I will be taking our leave of this world tomorrow; in the meantime, would you break bread with us? After everyone is cleaned up, of course."

He could not sense the Jedi's emotions, only that of other Iktotchi he was related to, but he thought he caught a flicker of amusement from her. Or perhaps it was simply that her expression gave far too much away. They were quite a vivid species, Humans. Everything inside was plainly written upon their features. Strange, indeed.

The Jedi glanced at the clone beside her, and Tibor watched as some sort of silent understanding passed between them. Though he could not have named what it was, he knew that they were communicating, somehow, although in a manner he could not discern. Very strange. Perhaps Humans were more expressive than even he realized.

"Some cleaning up would be most welcome," the Jedi said, indicating her sodden robes and the clone's mud-spattered kama – a term Tibor had picked up from earlier interactions with the Human. The Jedi bowed again. "But not as welcome as dinner. Thank you."

It was not until a few days later that Tibor understood what his son had been trying to tell him, and thus solved the mystery of what had passed between the Jedi and the clone.

He and Omree had left for Iktotch the morning after the dinner with the Republic squad. As always, the closer Tibor got to his homeworld, the stronger the Song became, and the harder he had to work to ignore the music of the spheres that resonated within the spiraling chambers of his horns.

The Song was an Iktotchi's curse, or blessing, depending on one's point of view. It was said by the Elders that all the universe was made of music, a song of what was, is, and would be, but only the Iktotchi had developed a means to hear it. The Song echoed in the horns of all Iktotchi, but it was clearest when they were home.

Generally, he was able to ignore it.

But not this time.

They were home, in the city of Ankhela. Tibor was tucking Omree into bed. As he did, his son looked at him with large eyes and said, as clearly as a one-year old could, "Waan' bee Jedd-aye."

Pride raced through Tibor's veins. To be so young, and speak in Iktotchese! He considered comm'ing his brother, but decided to inquire a bit more into Omree's words. Iktotchi Jedi were not unheard of – Tibor had even met Master Tiin, on the Jedi Council – but as far as he knew Omree was not Force-sensitive.

He smiled down at his son. "You want to be a Jedi?" he asked, speaking aloud in their native tongue as well as communicating through their telepathic bond.

Omree nodded vigorously. "Waan' bee Jedd-aye!"

This time, the words were accompanied by emotion and vision, both likely originating from Omree's latest encounter with the Jedi on Balasi. But this was no impression. It was too clear, too detailed. A man in white armor, wearing a kama and the distinctive T-visor of the clone troopers...holding a lightsaber. The blue blade glowed fiercely amidst the patina of Omree's memory.

Except...clone troopers were not Jedi. They were just Humans, like any other. They could not wield lightsabers any more than they could hear the Song. Tibor studied his son, trying to understand. Surely Omree had mixed up his impressions of the Human Jedi and her clone captain.

Deep within the chambers of his horns, the music of the spheres swelled, and Tibor froze as a symphony of future events washed over him.

The clone captain will be taken from the others of his squad, and the Jedi; he will be taken to a world of storms; he will be washed clean. He will be given new life, a new identity, and he will be put to new use. Grief will follow in his wake, but in the meantime, he will serve...

The Song's pitch changed, threads of warning trembling through each note. The clone will serve someone strong. Someone powerful...someone who does not yet know of these events, but who will want to. Another Human, a male...one who will rule the galaxy one day. One who already does, in a sense.

"Da?"

Tibor blinked hard, pulling himself away from the Song, though the music still played in the back of his mind. It was constant, here. He wondered if Omree had sensed it yet. He looked at his son again, and thought the words as well as spoke them. "What did you see, Omree?"

Omree smiled, broadly and with only joy. "Jedd-aye!"

This was accompanied by the boy's mimicry of a lightsaber's noises, and Tibor resisted the urge to rub his forehead. Passing strange, to be sure. What did it all mean?

He thought about it all that night, and for the next few days. When he asked Omree about the clone captain, the answer was always the same. Jedi.

Tibor remembered how the clone and Jedi had looked at one another. Perhaps to Humans it was a subtle gesture, but to him, they may as well have shouted. And if the clone could use a lightsaber, as Omree had communicated, he could use the Force, to a degree.

One who will rule the galaxy one day. One who already does, in a sense.

A shadow falls across the galaxy; a great wave is going to crash. Iktotch and all her children will be consumed unless the tide can be stemmed.

Rarely was the Song this clear, even to the more experienced Elders. Tibor listened, and heard the name of this "one who" in the music, and he did not want to believe it. But he also heard the sound of the crashing wave.

The Song was always true. The shadow would fall and everything in the galaxy would be flooded with darkness, and there was no stopping it. Iktotch would not be immune. Omree would not be safe in the future unless his father took action now.

Upon realizing this, panic seized Tibor and urged him to send the message to Coruscant, though he hoped it was all folly. Late one night, mere hours after he'd sent the message, a reply came. Not from the original place where he'd sent his transmission, but another, anonymous source. Provided the information was accurate, his terms would be met.

But if Tibor was feeding false information...

Tibor stood at the doorway to his son's room for many hours, watching Omree sleep, just to be sure he was well. The information was true, as far as he knew. He didn't know what would be done with the knowledge now. All that mattered was the little life sleeping in the crib not five paces from where he stood. Omree needed a home, needed a shelter from the wave that would crush the rest of the galaxy. Tibor didn't care about anything else; there was nothing else but his son.

Tibor Taro bought his son's safety with one clone's life.

A fair price, so he thought.

A/N: Another question answered. Hopefully. I know this chapter was a bit out of left field. Let me know if you're still scratching your head.

According to the Wook, "Iktotchi had powerful telepathic abilities." What exactly those abilities are is not indicated, so I took a little creative license. ;)

Next time: Present-day, on Kamino. Also, who's ready for some pseudo-pseudo science?! :D

FYI, I've currently got some pretty huge life-event stuff going on. (It's good stuff, but time-and-energy consuming.) I plan to stick to my posting schedule, but will probably fall even further behind on reading/reviewing other stories. If I neglect your writing, I sincerely apologize. Once the dust settles, I'll catch up. Thanks for being patient! :)