1 NRE

Deep in her meditation trance, Mara found only pain and bitter accusations. When she retreated inside herself, there was darkness that she didn't know if she could escape from, blood staining her hands that she could never wash clean.

"Mara."

She heard Luke's gentle voice calling her back from the void, and came out of her trance with a gasp. She was sitting cross-legged in a meditation room, Skywalker in the exact same position before her. But his face was the picture of concern.

"What did you see?" he asked gently.

Mara swallowed heavily, the images from her trance still dancing in front of her eyes. "The faces of the people I've killed."

"Mara, you must learn to forgive yourself," Luke told her. "Only then will you find peace."

"Or I could just stop meditating," Mara suggested wryly. "That would solve the problem, too."

"That would bury the problem," Luke responded, the ghost of a smile on his face.

"Interesting wording. Buried or not, it won't change anything," she stated. "Those people are still be dead by my hand."

"You thought you were doing good," Luke tried to console her.

"Service to evil is still evil." She shook her head. "I cannot be absolved of the things I did." She was silent for a moment and then pierced him with a steely glare. "I killed Rebels too, you know," she said, her voice deliberately cold. "Not often, the Rebellion was Vader's purview. But if I discovered them, I was their judge, jury and executioner. Maybe I even killed some of your friends...you don't know," she goaded him, desperate to make him despise her as much as she did herself. "Perhaps we should compare notes, there's a high probability."

But rather than be shocked or angered by Mara's words, rather than recoiling as she had wanted him to do, Luke just sat there passively, staring at her.

"Do you think telling me that changes anything I've said?" he asked. "I don't care what you've done in the past, Mara. I care about the choices you make now."

"But nothing will erase what I've done," she insisted.

"Nor should it," Luke told her. "But what you can do is make a vow, right here," he said, placing his hand over hers and squeezing gently. "Promise yourself that you will not strike another, except in defence of yourself or others. Swear that you will not kill, unless there is no alternative in order to preserve life."

It was hard not to be inspired by his words, although Mara still doubted that she could achieve what he was speaking of. The guilt would always be there, and while she had learned to live with it, actually moving on from it was another matter entirely. Did she have the courage to make such a vow, not only to forsake anger and violence, but to define herself by it?

Thankfully Luke did not press her, and instead suggested they move onto that day's physical training. Mara was grateful, since sparring was something she was completely familiar and comfortable with. That day, however, it seemed far more challenging than usual, and Mara kept hitting a wall.

Although Mara was a match for Skywalker in a physical fight, when it came to lightsaber combat there was no doubt his skills were superior. She kept trying to draw on the Force for the additional power to finally best him at lightsaber combat, but kept coming up short. A flash of irritation shot through her.

"Don't get angry, Mara," he warned her as their sabers clashed. "Remain calm, and you will find a way through."

But Mara was sick and tired of his words, of his endless lectures. At those thoughts, she felt a surge of power, and she grasped it eagerly as she fought back against him. Luke spun out of her reach and deactivated his lightsaber, looking disappointed.

"You're drawing your power from dark emotions," he told her. "Using your anger to fuel yourself. A Jedi draws on the light."

She huffed indignantly and deactivated her saber, clipping it to her belt. "That's how I've always done it." As the Hand it had never mattered how she'd drawn her power, just that she'd accomplished her objective.

Luke looked at her sympathetically. "Master Yoda used to chide me all the time, telling me that training to be a Jedi was like learning to walk all over again. When you're a child, it's instinctual, and you don't care how you take those first steps, so long as you take them. But as a Jedi you must be precise and deliberate with every step you take, because each one either leads you to the light or dark."

He held out the hilt of his saber in his palm, and it floated up into the air, held securely in his Force grip. "Try and take it."

Mara held out her hand palm outward and focused on the saber hovering in the air. She reached out through the Force, allowing it to flow through her, to draw the hilt towards herself and into her hand. But the saber didn't even budge in the air, too securely held by Luke's Force hold, and Mara exhaled with frustration.

"Don't give up," Luke told her. "Concentrate."

At his words she felt her anger rise to the fore again, but this time she pushed it aside, determined not to draw on those emotions. She sought to calm herself, to be at peace and at one with the Force,and reached out for the saber again. But Luke's hold on it was too powerful, and not matter how hard she tried, she could not call it to her.

"I can't do it," she said, frustrated. "Not without touching the dark side." Maybe she just wasn't cut out the be a Jedi, perhaps she should avoid the temptation altogether and return to the smuggler's life.

"The dark is seductive," Luke told her, allowing his saber to fall back into his hand and he clipped it back onto his belt. "It comes to you quickly, so you think it is more powerful, but if you are at peace, if you seek clarity, you will find the strength."

Mara crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him sceptically. How did he know of such things? He had only ever served the light, he did not know the thrill and exhilaration of the dark.

"Think of it this way, Mara," he said with a light smile when she did not answer. "You like to be in control, right?"

She eyed him. "Of course."

"Well when you're angry or aggressive, you're never in control," he told her. "You may think you are, because you feel powerful, but the dark is using you, not the other way around."

"You're always taking about letting yourself be a conduit of the Force," she countered. "By that logic isn't the light side using you just as much as the dark?"

"No." Luke shook his head. "Because when you are passive, you are open to considering the situation from every angle not just the one that gives you the best view. Then you can make a true choice to act, to guide the Force in the way you want it to go, rather than unleashing raw power and being unable to direct its path. That was Palpatine's downfall." Luke's gaze drifted in that way she had become accustomed to, when he was deep in thought. "In Vader he created something he could not hope to control," he added.

"But he controlled me." Mara's insides twisted bitterly at the thought.

Luke's eyes flicked back to her, his expression softening. "He doesn't control you now, Mara."

"Those are pretty words, Skywalker, but you don't understand at all," she said, frustrated and annoyed by his sympathy. "You don't...know how this feels."

"I do understand, Mara," Luke told her seriously. "More than you know."

Mara huffed and looked away. She just couldn't believe that Luke Skywalker struggled with the dark like she did. Since she'd been a child and Palpatine had convinced her to stop hiding her abilities, he'd poured darkness into her, flattered her, fed her arrogance and conceit, praised her cool detachment and the ease in which she could carry out orders. Skywalker had lived on a farm and had then been taught by two Jedi Masters. He'd never had to struggle against the dark like she had.

"Come here." Luke held out his hands, palms upward. "Do you trust me?"

Mara didn't answer, but she moved towards him and placed her hands over his so that their palms were touching. His fingers closed around her wrists gently and she felt him open up to her through the Force.

She was assaulted by a wave of feelings and memories, and a gnawing pain so deep it took her breath away. Mara saw his memories of the battle on the second Death Star, felt the anger and hatred brewing inside of him until he'd unleashed it. She saw him in a furious rage against his father, until he overwhelmed the dark lord and took his hand. She heard the Emperor's praise and felt a hatred beyond compare, the seductive pull to destroy them both and take the ultimate power for himself.

It was in that moment Mara realised that she had been entirely wrong about Skywalker.

Now she understood why his presence in the Force had always been so bright, why the light he emanated was so strong it was blinding. It was because that much light was necessary to counteract and drown out the streak of dark that could only be hidden, and never erased. For the first time, Mara saw exactly how powerful Luke was - more so than any of the old Jedi, even more than Palpatine. If Luke ever gave into that darkness inside of him, his strength would be unparalleled. If he ever turned it on her, sought to control her like the Emperor had, she didn't know if she would be able to stop him.

Mara broke away from his grip and stumbled back, breathing heavily. Luke looked at her sadly, his usually bright blue eyes dark and cloudy. Mara ran her hands over her tight braid and down her neck, trying to calm herself, to erase the glimpse inside his soul that had deeply frightened her.

Then she turned on one heel and walked swiftly out of the room.

The setting sun lit up Coruscant with a brilliant amber glow, and from his balcony Luke watched the light fade. The morning's session with Mara had been disturbing for both of them, but Luke knew he'd had to show her. He had told her of course, exactly what happened on the second Death Star and how he'd touched the dark side, and yet until that day he hadn't realised that she'd never quite believed him; did not think him capable of such darkness.

Despite her wry comments and expert words designed to prick and deflate his ego, when it came down to it, Luke had realised that perhaps she held him in higher esteem than he deserved. So he'd had to show her the truth, the way the dark had called to him - as it still called to him. He wouldn't hide himself, not from her. And if that he had driven her away, so be it.
But then Luke felt her familiar presence outside of his apartment, and sent a welcome to her through the Force while unlocking the door. Mara entered and soon joined him out on the balcony, looking around as she did so.

"Nice place, Skywalker," Mara said lightly, although he could feel her uncertainty.

"Thanks," he replied in the same light tone, and looked at her as she came to stand beside him. He noticed that she had let her hair down from the tight braid she usually wore for training. The setting sun lit up the gold strands among the red, and Luke forced himself to turn away.

"A bit exposed though," Mara commented.

"There's a forcefield around the entire balcony," he told her. "Invisible from this side, but it forms a privacy screen to prevent anyone from looking in." Luke realised that she'd just been making conversation to break the tension, and she hadn't actually cared about Luke's apartment. He felt a little foolish for his pointless words and they lapsed into silence again, watching the sunset together.

"I'm sorry I left before," Mara told him just as twilight fell.

"It's alright," Luke told her tightly, his eyes still on the city. "I...understand if you no longer wish to train with me."

"I thought about leaving," she admitted. "The power you have, Luke, it frightened me. For a moment I was afraid of what you could do with it - Palpatine had used his power to control me, and I can never let that happen again. I'll die first."

Luke nodded, pained.

"But I came here instead," she told him, putting a light hand on his arm. "Because I realised that you're not like him."

"I could be, though," Luke turned his head to her, troubled. "If I make the wrong choice, choose the wrong path, I could become him...or my father."

"I don't believe that," Mara told him earnestly. "Palpatine never tried to be good, and your father...it's different. Yes, there's darkness in you, Luke, but there's also light - so much that the darkness could never stand a chance."

He was touched by her understanding and faith in him, not blind, as if had been before, but with the full knowledge of who and what he was. He was buoyed by it also, at her belief in him, given by one not accustomed to doing so.

"Thank you" he said, his hand covering hers on his arm. "So...you'll stay?"

Mara sighed deeply and pulled away from him. "I'm not sure," she said, turning her back and wrapping her arms protectively around herself. Her pain and uncertainty was palpable, hanging about her like a shroud. Luke wanted to go to her, embrace her and tell her how much her faith was returned. But he sensed that it would only make her withdraw further.

"You feel that you're not capable of resisting the dark," he spoke instead. "But you are, I know it." But Mara's back remained rigid, her body tense as his words hung unanswered in the air.

"When I served the Emperor," she said after a long silence. "I had a weapons master - he was a Zabrak, from a warrior caste. I particularly admired the Iridonian blades he fought with - such beautiful weapons of precision and power if used correctly. One day he made a point to explain to me the forging process."

Luke was unsure of the direction of her words, but listened silently, watching her perfect posture as she faced away from him into the darkness of his apartment.

"He told me that before such a weapon is forged, the raw materials have the potential to be anything," Mara continued. "But to make the blade the steel must be heated to remove imperfections, and any elements of low quality cast aside. Then it must be hammered into shape, polished and sharpened until it is exactly what its maker wants. And the result is beautiful - so much more than the formless lump of metal it was before. But the price of such beauty is that it no longer has the potential of the raw material. It is a weapon; that is it's only function. It cannot made into anything else." Mara's voice trembled as she took a ragged breath. "It is no longer good for anything else."

Luke's heart ached at her words, aghast that she had been taught something so terrible when she had been too young to question it. He stepped forward and gently put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly in what he hoped was comfort.

"But a weapon is inanimate," he told her. "It has no thought or choice as to how it is wielded. You are in control of yourself now, Mara - that is the difference."

Mara took another ragged breath, and although she did not answer, nor did she pull away.

"You say there is light in me - enough to drown out the dark," Luke added, tugging on her shoulder slightly to try and get her to face him. "Can you not feel the same light in yourself?"

"No," was her terse response. However she turned, the city lights playing across her face and the shimmering tears that spilled from her eyes.

"Well I feel it," Luke told her resolutely, tipping her chin so that her face was no longer in the shadows. "And I will help you find it, if you let me."

29 NRE

Han grimaced as he walked through one of the seedier slums of Coronet with Chewbacca beside him. The Wookie growled softly with distaste and concern at their surroundings.

"I know, buddy," Han told him as he glanced around the streets of what was colloquially known as the human quarter. Other than Chewie, there wasn't a non-human in sight. Briefly, Han considered whether he should have brought Syal Antilles with him rather than Chewie, but then he chastised himself for that thought. He'd always been adamant that he would never play by the rules of the pro-human element on Corellia or anywhere else. He wouldn't allow them to change his behaviour one bit, even if doing so may be best for the mission.

Besides, Syal was busy debriefing CorSec back at their Headquarters, and Han was happy to leave her to take care of that so he didn't have to do so. They'd only arrived on Corellia that morning, and Han's first stop had been the Medical Institute where Yara Riu was still convalescing from the attack on government house. The young Jedi had received burns to 90% of her body after being caught in the explosion, along with a multitude of shattered bones and internal injuries. She'd spent three weeks in bacta before they'd been able to revive her so she could put herself in a healing trance. Yara had been cognizant enough to talk to Han when he'd visited her, and seemed cheered up by his presence.

Han was thankful to see that she'd be okay, and had felt rather guilty that she'd suffered such brutal injuries in the attack when he'd gotten off with a broken leg that had mostly healed. Han still limped a little, but the doctors had told him that it was to be expected at his age. Bacta wasn't miracle juice, after all. There was also a pragmatic part of Han that was relieved to think they had a Jedi to call on if things got ugly. And Han knew with his cousin Thracken Sal-Solo out of prison, the ugly odds raised exponentially.

They soon reached their destination, a particularly dingy bar crassly named The Master Race. There was a human guard outside, who held out a bo-rifle to prevent their approach.

"Humans only," the guard growled. "That thing can't come in here."

Han eyed them both. "You wanna tell him that?" he asked, and in a flash Chewie had torn the guard's weapon away from him and had his claws around his neck. The guard whimpered as Chewie cast him aside, slumping against the wall and making no further attempt to prevent their entry.

The bar was full of smoke from the hookah pipes which rested on every table. Drinks were being served by scantily-clad Twi'leks, and there was another dancing on the small stage to one side of the bar, but all of the patrons were human. Han shook his head in disgust - these scum were happy to objectify non-humans they so despised, as well as use their tech like bo-rifles and hookahs, but still claimed them as inferior. It made him sick.

The patrons all glared at Han and Chewie as they entered, giving them each equally disgusted looks. Han wondered if their distaste for him was the fact he'd brought Chewie in, or that they'd recognised his physical resemblance to their leader. But no one bothered them, a wise move in Han's opinion. Chewie may be getting older, but he was still as menacing as ever.

Han followed the raucous laughter to the cluster of tables at the back of the bar, where the ale flowed freely and the hookah smoke was the thickest. At the centre of the group was none other than Thracken Sal-Solo, Han's first cousin and all around scum. He'd led his Human League in an attack on the Corellian system sixteen years earlier in an effort to seize control of the government and oust all non-humans from the planet. Leia had been serving as the Governor of the system at the time and either by chance or design Luke, Mara and their two sons had been visiting, involving them all in the crisis. Thracken had been imprisoned, of course, although the sentence was meant to have been life, and Han hadn't been able to find out why he'd been let out.

It didn't take long for Thracken to notice Han and Chewie standing there, and his face transformed into a bitter scowl. He was much as Han remembered him, a little fatter, a little greyer, but still the same scumbag who'd once kidnapped Han's daughter and his two nephews.

"Well if it isn't General Solo," Thracken greeted him, even his voice resembling Han's except it was pitched lower and had a rasp indicating over inhalation of hookah smoke. "Miss me, cousin?"

"Not really," Han said as grabbed himself a chair and took a seat, apprising Thracken thoughtfully. His cousin was surrounded by a dozen cronies, ranging in age from fifteen to perhaps fifty, and all of them glared at Han suspiciously, including one young man whose familiarity struck Han in the gut. He had black hair and dark eyes, but Han knew the kid instantly. He was careful not to let the recognition show on his face, his gaze slipping around equally to the other men at the table and then back to Thracken.

"So why are you here?" Thracken asked, his gaze drifting to Chewie who was standing at Han's shoulder, bowcaster in hand.
"Can't a guy drop by his home planet and congratulate his cousin when he gets out of prison?" Han asked, keeping his tone light. "Especially since you were meant to be in there for the rest of your Sith-forsaken life."

Thracken smiled smugly. "Your wife isn't the Governor any longer," he said. "The new regime is more...sympathetic to my talents."

"Oh?" Han responded harshly, a layer of steel in his voice. "The new Governor have any children he needed you to steal?"

Thracken laughed, and his cronies tittered along with him. "You're not still mad about that, are you, cousin?"

Han glared at him, and behind Chewie roared a warning. "Cut the bantha crap, Thracken," Han growled. "Why'd they let you out?"

"Control your pet here, and I'll tell you." Thracken eyed Chewie with a mixture of of fear and disgust. Han sighed and glanced at Chewie, patting the Wookiee's arm gently to calm him down.

"Enlighten me."

"It's simple, Han," Thracken began, clasping his hands on the table in front of him and leaning forward. "Everyone's on edge since that attack on Coronet House."

"Which your Human League has claimed responsibility for," Han countered.

Thracken pointed to himself innocently. "My League? I was in prison, Han, how could I be involved in such a terrible act?"

Han knew exactly how, but played along to get to the information he wanted. "So why let you out?"

"Why, to calm things down, of course," Thracken explained. "Without my firm hand to guide the League, I'm afraid it became quite a lawless and fractured movement. They needed someone to take control of these rogue factions, steer them back on the right path. Someone who has been rehabilitated."

Han scoffed. "You? Rehabilitated?"

"Why yes," Thracken smiled. "They let me out, and I agreed to calm things down. And you see, it has worked - no more attacks!" He laughed heartily and his brethren joined in, sharing amused and conspiratorial glances.

"Tread carefully, Thracken," Han warned him. "Or you may get a death sentence next time." He patted his blaster for effect.

"I'll keep that in mind, cousin." Thracken told him. "Now since you got what you came for…" he gestured towards the door.
"Won't you have one of your boys escort us?" Han asked. "It's a long walk back, and I broke my leg in that little attack on Coronet House which you had nothing to do with." Han swept his hand in what was meant to look like a careless gesture.

Thracken sighed and waved his hand. "Fine." He glanced over at the black-haired young man. "You take General Solo and his...friend back to CorSec Headquarters."

Han stood and followed the young man out the back to a darkened alley and got in one of the speeders waiting there. The kid didn't even look at him or Chewie as he escorted them, nor when he started up the speeder and drove them up and into the bustling Coronet airlanes.

When they were a safe distance away, Han sighed and shook his head. "What are you doing, Micah?"

"I'm undercover," Micah said shortly, his eyes on the sky ahead.

"Really," Han said sarcastically. "And here I thought you were just going through a belated teenage rebellion. Dying your hair, hanging out with the wrong crowd…"

"Karrde sent me," Micah explained.

Han gave him a hard look. "Talon Karrde sent you here to infiltrate a terrorist organization, knowing that not only are you related to their ringleader, but were once held captive by him?"

Micah shifted in his seat. "Well, he sent me here to investigate them…"

"And you decided to join up to do that," Han sighed, unsurprised. "You're lucky Thracken's as dumb as two planks, kid," Han shook his head. "And that he doesn't give two kriffs about his underlings."

"Not lucky, I knew that," Micah said. "I researched his habits, and I remembered. You know, from before."

"Oh, before?" Han pressed. "You mean before when he captured you, your brother and my baby girl, held you for ransom and was fully prepared to kill you if it would achieve his goals? That before?"

"Yeah," Micah said a little uneasily. "I was only five, but I remembered that he would never even look at his men, just order them around."

"You're playing with fire, Micah," Han said seriously. "Thracken's a fool, but it's the fools you have to watch out for."

Micah finally glanced over at him, although Han found the dark hair and eyes rather disconcerting. "I know what I'm doing, Uncle Han."

Chewie growled from the backseat, voicing his faith in Micah's abilities. Han didn't disagree, but the whole thing felt too dangerous, and hit far too close to home.

"Have you found out anything?" Han asked, knowing that it was pointless to try and change Micah's mind. The worst he could threaten to do was comm Mara, but Han knew she had enough to worry about.

"Not much," Micah told him, his eyes back on the sky ahead. "I'm using the same cover as before, Dax Towlin, since its still active. That got me inside, but I'm still new, they don't trust me yet."

"Well I certainly didn't believe that baloney from Thracken about him preaching peace and love to his fellow xenophobes," Han said with distaste. "I need to have a long talk with Governor Meelin about poor decision making."

"Thracken's got a man on the inside," Micah told him. "Someone who has the Governor's ear, and convinced him to release Thracken from prison. His code name is Slice Hound."

"Of course it is." Han ran a tired hand over his eyes. Then he retrieved a small secure comm from his pocket and gave it to Micah. "Take this, and if you find anything else out let me know." He paused, and then ruffled the kid's hair affectionately, making Micah squirm away. "And if you're in trouble, Micah," he added seriously. "Even a whiff, comm me and I'll be here in a second."

"I'll be careful," Micah promised, but Han still had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew that for a Skywalker, the term careful was completely relative.