Corellia

0-o-I-o-0

It was a somber moment in Coronet City. It was an entire planet in mourning. So many Corellian's had answered Anakin's call to arms. So many had made the Unknown Regions their final resting place. The material loss was traumatic for the Corellians as well. Only a couple of years ago they had been a major power broker, fighting a proxy-war with the Imperial Remnant over the Tion Hegemony. They had had many systems looking to them for security, for resources, for the peace-of-mind that Denon hadn't been able to give those systems.

But the dual losses in Hapes and in the Utegetu Nebula had crippled Corellia's militaristic ambitions. Unlike Hapes, which had the resources of sixty-three systems to draw upon, Corellia manly relied on the five worlds within its own system, and trade with many others. This meant no miracle rebuilding of the hundreds of vessels lost in the Swarm War. No sudden fountain of wealth enabling a quick recovery. Not when the loss of those fleet groups meant that Corellia had to pull its ships back from other systems, reducing the security of the trading routes.

Amid the grieving, there was naturally an instinct to look for answers. Why did so many Corellians die? Why did Corellia involve itself in galactic affairs in the first place? Why was the Empire thriving, Bakura thriving, when the Corellian economy was going in the completely opposite direction?

The answer, and the blame, cast by many lay in the occupants of a particular building in downtown Coronet; a building with a giant green gem on top. Not helping matters any was the attitude of many of the surviving Corellian veterans.

"The Jedi, Green or not, don't deserve the special status we've given them. It was the Jedi who led our fleets to Hapes and got Admiral Karathas killed. It was the Jedi who led our brave men and women out to battle the space bugs and got them massacred. Our own legendary General Wedge Antilles, hero of the rebellion is in a coma thanks to the 'helpful' actions of the Jedi."

"Interesting you should mention General Antilles. With us in the studio right now is his eldest daughter, First Lieutenant Syal Antilles of the renown VibroSword squadron. Thank you for joining us, lieutenant."

"Thank you."

"Can you share with us your reason for being on this show?"

"Someone has to open the eyes of the general public. The Jedi aren't the magical do-gooders who can do no wrong. They aren't saints, good spirits, or the bright side of whatever religion you believe in. They're simply mortal like us. Do we give our politicians giant skyscrapers for getting our armed forces decimated? Do we give them tax breaks or involve them in policy if they truly don't care about the people of Corellia? The Jedi are ordinary people. Flawed, corrupt in some cases, and otherwise very fallible. In the Swarm War, I guess that's what you media people are calling it right?"

"More or less, we got the name from the Office of the Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance."

"Phew, I knew we Corellians were more inventive than that."

"Ha ha, you were saying, lieutenant?"

"Right, I served with the Jedi during the Swarm War. Met a few of them. I was surprised that most of the ones leading the fight were barely older than I am. These twenty-something year old Jedi were in charge of the millions of lives they dragged out to the Unknown Regions with them. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the youngest general, admiral, what have you in the CDF is fifty-ish years old. Had earned his or her way up the ranks and had plenty of experience in multiple levels of war. From the frontlines to the rear echelon, they knew what we grunts and flyboys and girls were getting into because they were us once. These Jedi. They come in with their fancy hand-waving, their sage advice, and less tactical education than a non-com. And we put them in charge of the military forces that are supposed to protect us from the evils out there? That just doesn't seem..."

The holo flicked off.

"Great interview, sis. Now tell us how you really feel about the Jedi," a wan-looking Myri said, putting the remote down. Her eyes were Joiner-black, though clearing gradually thanks to the constant stream of drugs being pumped into her.

"If I did, they'd have to censor me," Syal said softly. "How do you feel"

Myri winced, accepting the cup of water her sister held for her. "Like our head was split open by a Gamorrean axe. We can no longer hear the starsong if that's what you're asking."

"I think I'll feel better when you stop using plural pronouns to talk about yourself," Syal sighed.

"Cheer up sis, we are alive at least."

"Probably the only reason why I didn't go all out during the interview," Syal answered back. Smoothing her sister's pillow.

"Is dad…?"

"Still out. Jedi Master Corran Horn is personally overseeing his healing."

"Oh, good." Myri's eyes fluttered slightly, and her good nature evaporated slightly. "Still can't believe the others are all gone."

The others were the members of Phantom squad, the Corellian crack intel team that had embedded itself in the Killik fleet to provide real-time intel to the rest of the defenders. They were all dead, or Joined and had retreated into the distant Unknown Regions with the surviving Killik forces.

Syal sent a silent thanks to whatever cosmic force was watching over them that Myri had had the sense to lock herself in a stasis pod the moment she realized she was becoming a Joiner. Said pod had survived the destruction of the ship it had been on and had been recovered by salvage teams.

"At least you made it back," Syal whispered. "It'd have killed mom and dad if they had lost you."

"They know the risks we take," Myri answered back. "They were in our shoes once."

"I don't think mom ever had to infiltrate an army of mind-controlling bugs bent on destroying the galaxy," Syal said dryly. "Any way, Prime Minister Denjax Teppler is going to stop by later today, wants to give you a medal."

"He doesn't mind that we talk in plural pronouns?" Myri asked with a smile and arched eyebrow.

"I don't think anyone thought to update him on that," Syal smirked back.

"Play the part of grievously traumatized and mute veteran," Myri nodded in turn. "Check."

"Or challenge yourself to not use any pronouns at all when you talk," Syal said. "You know, like one of those improv-games mom had us play when we were kids."

Myri's smile faltered for a moment, then she recovered, smiling but not too convincingly. "Right, those improv-games."

"Myri?"

The younger Antilles looked out the window of her hospital room. Several long minutes passed, Syal clenching a fist helplessly as a single tear formed in her younger sister's eyes. Just when Syal was about to say something, Myri beat her to it. "Our memories, they are jumbled, some missing. We do not remember those games."

"Myri…"

Myri turned back to her older sister, a pained smile on her face. "We can remember every single day of our spec-ops training, every detail, right down to that stain that was on Kaarz-Dance's bright blue shirt when we met him. We can remember the food we ate, what it tastes like, with perfect clarity." Myri made a face. "Emergency ration bars still tastes pretty bad, even the memory of them. We can remember our name, who we were before the Joining, our likes and dislikes…"

"But?" Syal asked gently.

Myri smiled tearfully, shaking her head. "We cannot remember anything of our childhood. We cannot remember the games we probably played as sisters, cannot remember if we had a favorite toy or HoloNet show. Everything else, preserved by the Joining in perfect detail, but what made us truly us is completely gone."

"The docs said that some Joiners torn from the Killiks don't recall much of their past life," Syal said hoarsely, clearly remembering the conversation she had had with Myri's doctors. "It's a defense-mechanism of sorts, erasing the past so that the only family the Joiner would have and know is the hive; making the Joiner's desire to return all the stronger."

Myri just nodded, curling up into a fetal position on the bed and pulled one of the pillows to her chest. "What were we like, as a child, sister? Tell us of the games you mentioned, of the stories mom and dad must have told us, of the things we did when we were younger."

Syal swallowed heavily, her own eyes tearing up as she abortively reached out to comfort her sister, then placed her hand back into her lap. "Well, you weren't that much different than you are now. Determined, always able to get what you want done, no matter how hard."

"Like surviving the Joining and giant exploding Killik fleet and making it back to a hospital on Corellia," Myri inputted.

Syal emitted a weak laugh, nodding. Her grip on her chair's armrests was white-knuckled. "Yeah, but on a smaller scale. We grew up on the Errant Venture, traveled around with Jedi-in-training while mom and dad saved the galaxy from one thing or another. Because we were kids, we were forbidden from accessing certain decks, but you were curious about what they looked like. We spent four hours crawling through the ventilation shafts without a clue of where we were going, and then we finally dropped out onto the bridge somehow. It's impossible to forget the look on Captain Terrik's face…" Syal trailed off, doing her best to stay smiling.

"We can imagine," Myri encouraged gently.

"You'll get better," Syal shook her head. "The memory thing is probably only temporary. If not, we can always get Jedi Master Horn over her to take a look at it too. There's also some specialized healers in Coron…"

"Syal," Myri reached out and placed a hand over her sister's. "We are still alive. We are hoping we will stay this way for a very long time."

Sniffling, Syal looked at her sister's peaceful expression. "Me too."

"Then please, continue your stories. We wish to be Myri Antilles, not AntillesMueum, and every memory you give back to us will make that possible."

Wiping at her eyes, Syal took a calming breath and squeezed her little sister's hand. "Okay, how about the time…"

0-o-II-o-0

The Antilles family home was a lot emptier than usual, felt colder too, Syal surmised as she stared upwards, head pillowed in the palms of her hands. She was on her bed in her teenage-years' third floor room, the skylight giving her unrestricted view of the starry sky above. Her mother was still over at the Corellian Jedi Praxeum, doing who knows what in addition to looking after Wedge. Her sister was once again sedated, the doctors hoping that her unconscious state would allow her mind to heal.

This left her all by her lonesome in a house that had once been filled with cheer and fond memories.

The doorbell chimed.

Frowning, Syal rolled out of bed and made her way downstairs. It wasn't that the hour was late, but Syal couldn't think of anyone who'd want to visit.

She checked the security monitor, her eyebrows shooting up at the sight of the Prime Minister and a pair of his bodyguards. She walked to the door, slightly confused. She had seen Denjax Teppler at the hospital earlier in the day when he had stopped by for a photo-op with her sister. Wondering what else was in store, she opened the door and saluted.

"Prime Minister."

"At ease, lieutenant," Denjax's photogenic face crinkled in a friendly manner as he gestured for her to relax.

Syal dropped the salute. "Sir?"

"You are perhaps wondering why I'm here?"

"Yes, sir." Syal said haltingly, then remembering her manners. "Please, come in. I'm sorry I don't have any food or drinks ready, I wasn't expecting…"

"Relax, lieutenant. May I call you Syal?"

"Errr…yes, sir."

"Great, and you can call me Denjax. I'm still not used to being Prime minister even though it's almost been half a year now."

"Yes, sir," Syal answered robotically, still somewhat shocked that the leader of the Five Worlds was now in her family's dining room.

"As you know, the Corellian Defense Force has taken a major hit in terms of both ships and manpower," Denjaax began, taking a seat and folding his hands together. "With the additional loss of several of our trading partners, the various number crunchers tell me it'll take at least another decade to recover that lost strength. Never mind the hit to morale, but this severely jeopardizes Corellia's ability to respond to future threats."

Syal nodded, wondering where he was going with this. Had it been earlier in the day, her mind might have made the jump. But with all the emotional events throughout, she just waited for him to spell it out for her.

"I understand that you have finished your obligated tour of duty for the Galactic Alliance," Denjax said. "It would be Corellia's great honor that, instead of re-upping with the GA, you join the CDF instead."

"What?" Syal blinked.

"You'll be able to keep whatever rank you end up as at the end of your service to GA Starfighter Command, and will be given your own fighter squadron. Between you and me, you have more than enough experience to be promoted to captain, but procedures and the like," Denjax chuckled. "You've probably seen more action than most of the CDF pilots anyway, so a promotion shouldn't be long in the running. And the greatest bonus is that you'll be stationed in-system, enabling you to check on your sister and father during your down-time."

Syal blinked again, absorbing what Denjax was saying. "You want me to be in the Corellian Defense Force? As a pilot?"

"Well, you and most of the other Corellians currently in the GA armed forces," Denjax said. "As I said earlier, the loss of two fleets in this conflict was crippling, and we can't exactly be loaning our soldiers out to the greater galaxy when we're barely holding things together here. Tomorrow, I'm making a formal request for all serving Corellians to return. Not sure the good that would do, but I thought I'd show you the respect your family deserves by asking you in person."

"I…thank you," Syal murmured.

"You can, of course take your time. I don't really need an answer any time soo…"

"I'll do it," Syal cut him off, her mind made. Despite the fact that her family had strong ties to the Galactic Alliance, they were ties she didn't want anything to do with any more.

"You will?"

"The CDF, its command structure is independent of the Corellian Jedi, right?"

"The Green Jedi do assist on some missions, but yes, they do not have operational control."

"You've probably seen the interviews I gave on the Holo," Syal said. "The Galactic Alliance Navy is too reliant on the Jedi to get things done, and both the crews on the capital ships and the starfighter pilots have paid the price for it. The Chief of State might be heralding a Peace of a Millennium, but too many people died for it."

"Not that I'm saying that your reasoning is a good thing, but the CDF will definitely be stronger for your presence. In fact, I think you'll appreciate the commanding officer I plan to have you serve under."

"Sir?"

"Admiral Kadra Bres-Durron has also agreed to leave the Galactic Alliance and return to her homeworld."

"How'd you manage to convince her to do that?"

"Didn't take much. From what I gather, she was rather tired of the long Outer Rim deployments with minimal support. Jumped at a chance to be only a few hours away from the rest of her family."

"I guess dad was right when he said that Corellians will always be Corellians no matter where in the galaxy they are."

"I'll let you settle things with your superiors in GA Starfighter Command," Denjax rose. "And then I'll be sure to personally welcome you into the Corellian Defense Force."

"Thank you, sir."

"No, thank you. The things you have done, the things everyone has seen you do, they are truly befitting of the legacy we Corellians leave in the galaxy. Have a good evening, Lieutenant Antilles."

Syal showed the Prime Minister to the door, giving him one last salute as he stepped into his awaiting speeder. She watched the speeder head down the winding road, its lights cutting the path before it. When the headlights were mere pinpricks, she allowed herself to relax, leaning against the doorframe and smiling in relief. She had been so conflicted about returning to active-duty. Hadn't wanted to leave her mom with both Myri and Wedge in the states they were in. She knew that her mom was a super-mom, but even those had limits. Now, with the offer, it felt as if her worries were slowly evaporating. Maybe things were looking up after all.

0-o-III-o-0

"Anything now?"

Syal froze at the sound of a familiar voice; Green Jedi Knight Jysella Horn. And it had come from her sister's hospital room.

"Flashes, we…I…wow, who knew speaking with the right pronoun would be so hard."

"But you're getting there."

"We want to get there faster," Myri's frustration bled into her voice. "You should see the look on our sister's face when we use the wrong pronoun. It's like we…I…have contracted some disease or something. She tries to hide it, but we've been intel-trained and can read her face."

"The mind is a delicate thing, you rush it and we might do more damage to it."

"What if it's a temporary fix?"

"Temporary?"

"Syal is going back to duty at the end of the week, maybe you can hard-wire our brain for just that long? We can feel that the sessions are helping, but we cannot let her ignore her duty to the GA on account of us."

"Yeah, I do that, then she'd really kill me."

"She would never know. She's not supposed to be by here until this afternoon so we have plenty of time."

"Really? She's standing right outside the door debating whether or not to kill me with a scalpel," Jysella replied. "Make that, with her bare hands. Your sister's quite imaginative when it comes to my death."

"She is…oh…"

Syal took that as her cue to enter the room. Framing Myri's head was a tiara embedded with several white and green crystals. Standing on the opposite side of Myri's bed, as if to shield herself, was Jysella Horn, a hand still resting on Myri's forehead.

Myri glanced up to the older Jedi. "Errr…would the phrase 'this is not what it looks like' work in this situation?"

"You can always try it," Jysella shrugged.

"Okay," Myri looked to her sister. "This isn't what it looks like."

"You're having a Jedi scramble your brain even more?" Syal said archly, glaring at Jysella.

"Kind of, sort of?" Myri tried. She then sat back up, pulling the tiara off her head and glaring right back at her sister. "And before you go all 'mom' on me, I was the one who asked her to help."

Syal was about to reply, then fully registered what Myri had said. "'Me'?'I'?"

Myri seemed to realize it too, a smile breaking out. "We are cured!" She quickly grimaced, then groaned. "Or not."

"I said it takes time," Jysella repeated.

Myri sighed dejectedly and flipped the tiara back over her head. "Being confined to a hospital bed because our pronouns are wrong isn't exactly medically sound."

"Post-Joining Syndrome is," Syal said darkly. She arched an eyebrow at the tiara. "What is that thing?"

"Jedi magic, you probably couldn't care less," Jysella answered, plucking it back off of Myri's head. "And since you're here, I should be going now."

"Syal!" Myri said in exasperation.

"Give it time, Antilles," Jysella said evenly, ignoring the outburst. "Your mind will recover on its own. Minds are quite resilient like that."

"Tomorrow?" Myri said quickly, sounding hopeful.

"Busy all day," Jysella shook her head. "Since many Corellians feel that the Jedi are to blame for what happened, I've been forced to find alternative means to continue the Corellian Praxeum's funding. I also have to justify the Green Jedi presence in CDF missions to a committee, for some reason. Never mind that we just saved this entire system from becoming bug-huggers or that my brother had a spotless record when advising CDF missions."

"Jysella…"

"I'll be back when I can. Probably after your sister returns to duty," Jysella said tonelessly, brushing past Syal in the doorway. "Have a good day you two."

The clicking of Jysella's boots grew distant, and again Myri glared at her sister. "Syal!"

"What?" Syal threw her arms up. "That Jedi got nearly every single Corellian killed!"

"Those were the Killiks, and you know it!" Myri shot back hotly, swinging her legs out over the bedside.

"Myri!" Syal quickly moved to catch her as she swayed, but Myri shoved her hand away.

"She was helping us!" Myri hissed, walking unsteadily to the window. In the faint reflection, the unmistakable black irises that indicated a Joiner stared back. "We were in a war, Syal. People die in wars, that's a fact. If it weren't for those Jedi, we'd all be dead or Joined."

"You don't care that we were treated like disposable pawns?" Syal shot back. "Because that's how that Jedi felt about us. It's how those Solos and all those other big-shots in charge treated us. Name one non-Jedi leader who'd have his or her people run combat missions almost every day of the week, the entire day! The Jedi wanted to be the heroes, wanted to stop the bugs at all costs. We could have fallen back, put some distance between our fleets and get word to the Core. Most of this galaxy doesn't even know or care about what we went through out there!"

"You want a parade?" Myri snorted. She glanced at her sister's reflection next to her own. "Accolades? Medals? Most of this galaxy is free because of what we did. You know it, I know, mom and dad too, and that's all that matters to me!"

"They threw our people into the meat-grinder with a half-cocked plan that changed by the second. How many soldiers died because the Jedi…"

"The Jedi aren't gods, sis!" Myri snapped back.

"Then they should stop acting like it!" Syal hissed. "There's even one of them as the Chief of State now! If a handful of Jedi could get a million plus soldiers killed in a poorly planned battle, what will one do leading this galaxy? Come on, Myri. You wouldn't even be needing that Jedi's help if it weren't for the fact that she was the one who sent your unit on that mission in the first place."

"A mission our entire squad agreed to go on, knowing the risks, knowing that we could end up dead or worse. But if our intel could keep hundreds, thousands of others alive, then we think it's a good trade off, don't you?"

"You wouldn't have been in that position in the first place if the Jedi had done more! Had done something else then turn our forces into a punching bag. Nearly every Corellian that followed Jysella Horn out there is dead. Yet she's still alive. So is that Omwati apprentice and the Falleen Knight, whatever their names are."

"The Jedi lost just as many people in the war," Myri turned away from the window to look at her sister. "Jysella lost her older brother, lost a friend named Seff Hellin. They sent their greenest people out there because the politics at the Core didn't believe the Killik threat was serious enough to warrant all their masters and knights. If you want to blame anyone for the people we lost, blame the politicians who talked the talk but came up short when it mattered."

Syal shook her head back and forth very slowly. "You have your opinion, Myri. But I'll tell you this, there's no way I'm going to put anyone under my command in the hands of a Jedi again. You lost your squad, once. Each battle I was in, the squad I was with was decimated. You want to know why? Because some Jedi thought that it'd be a good idea to send a hundred snubfighters against thousands."

"We signed up to bleed and die for the civilians in the galaxy." Myri walked back to her bed. "So did you. If it weren't those hundreds of pilots dying, it would have been millions, billions on an inhabited planet. You might only see things from that tiny cockpit of yours, Syal. I am in intel, I have to see the big picture. What other choice did the Jedi have? Let the bugs through? Every single system in the Murgo Choke would have been decimated."

"That would have given the politicians in the Core a wakeup call," Syal said. "Would have rallied the systems and presented a more unified defensive front."

"At the same time plunging the economy of the Mid and Outer Rim systems into chaos, disrupting fragile trade routes, and sending millions of refugees fleeing to systems already overburdened with Vong-war refugees. Quit thinking like a grunt. The Jedi spared the galaxy the lasting damage that expanded war would have caused. At the expense of our lives, yes. But if we recall, the call-to-arms that Solo put out was an entirely voluntary one."

"We trusted them to get us back alive."

"No, we trusted them to get the job done. To protect the galaxy again, just as they did in the Vong War."

"Myri."

"We are discharging ourselves from the hospital tomorrow," Myri said evenly. "The doctors cannot do any more. We only stayed as long as we did for both yours and mom's sakes."

"Jedi Horn suggest that?"

"She suggested I return to the field, yes. We agreed."

"Rejoining Corellian Intelligence?"

"No," Myri shook her head. "The head of Cor-Intel came by and said that we had been 'compromised'. Would not allow us to return until the doctors were certain the Joining had been undone."

"Then what?"

"Colonel Tainer of Wraith Squadron stopped by after you and the Prime Minister left the other day. Apparently Jedi Master Horn put in a word for us, so the colonel gave us a job interview. We passed."

Syal couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "Now isn't this ironic, you're going from Corellia to the GA, and I'm going in reverse."

"Syal?"

"The Prime Minister stopped by the house at dinner time last night. Offered me a post in the CDF."

"Good, then you can keep mom company while she looks after dad."

"Wraith Squadron accepted you even when you're like this?"

"The colonel said that I would fit right in, even gave me a new call-sign."

Knowing Wraith Squadron's proclivity for odd call-signs, Syal took a guess. "Bug-girl?"

"How species-ist," Myri glared. "Just for that, we won't tell you."

"Okay, sorry, please tell me?"

"Corellian Queen, C-Q for short," Myri said proudly. "Colonel Tainer said that it would suit our speech patterns just fine."

Syal just sighed. "As long as you're happy, sis."

Myri's expression sobered slightly as she reclined in the bed, starring up at the ceiling much like Syal had done the night before. "We wouldn't say happy. Joining…we didn't think a happiness, a contentment like that ever existed. It's like a happy-drug and warm hug mixed into one."

"Myri…"

"Don't worry, sis. We're okay. It's just…when the Joining gives you a perfect memory, you can clearly remember what it was like being a part of the Kind. Would it be wrong to say it was the best and happiest time of our life?"

"Yes, very much," Syal said. "It was a false happiness. You weren't you."

"We know, the shrinks we were forced to see say that too. Doesn't stop us from feeling it though," Myri shrugged, voice growing distant. "And it's not just us you know. We know a couple hundred Corellian Joiners we brought back who are also 'recovering'. We might not hear the star-song any more, but it doesn't stop us from missing it. To know that billions of other beings care about your cares, worry about your well-being, want you to be happy."

"Colonel Tainer's allowing you to go back to duty like this?"

"It's something Jysella's been helping me out with," Myri answered with a shrug. "Her family apparently has a niche in Jedi mind-stuff."

Syal couldn't help but worry. "And if she makes things worse?"

"Then she makes things worse, but she was able to pry another Jedi free of the Joining, and she was Joined for longer than I was."

Pursing her lips, Syal didn't say anything. She glanced back out the window. "I'll be seeing mom and dad after this, let them know I'm staying. Want me to pass a message along or something?"

"Tell them…tell them we…I…am recovering faster than expected. That I will be returning to duty shortly," Myri forced out.

"So you want me to lie to her?" Syal shook her head. "You do know that we haven't gotten away with a single lie to her since we were kids?"

"Well, we are returning to duty," Myri said sheepishly. "Maybe the truth part will cover the lie and she'll be too worried about dad to notice."

"You forget, she's the one who managed five different intel operations while I was in bacta after that Pulsar Station incident. Multi-tasking and emotional compartmentalization is her thing."

"Strangely enough, we did forget," Myri said dryly. "In fact we don't remember that at all."

"Oh…sorry."

"Don't be. We…I… will be fine, Syal. Don't worry."

"You're my little sister, that's kind of impossible."

Myri smiled. "The Swarm War is over, new Chief of State, senators, new Prime Minister. Things are going to be changing, Syal. We'd like to think that it'll be for the better."

Syal rested a hand on Myri's shoulder. "So do I."

Myri reached up and placed her hand on top of Syals, the two sisters sharing a small smile as the morning sunlight streamed through the window in shimmering bars of golden light.

0-o-IV-o-0

Jedi Knight Jysella Horn felt like she had to be doing something, even as she sat on the rooftop garden of the Corellian Jedi Praxeum in meditation. The stillness, the calm, after being on edge for almost three-quarters of a year, was completely alien to her. She half expected to be interrupted by the klaxon alarms of another Killik attack, or hear explosions or screams of soldiers caught in an ambush. Instead, the only sounds were the chirping of birds and the rustling of the leaves in the trees.

Try as she might, she just couldn't center herself. The busy city of Coronet bustled about below, the lanes of speeder traffic, the people walking to and from their various destinations. The sun continued to blaze above, filtering through the canopy of leaves and branches from the trees that lined the garden's perimeter.

Opening her eyes, she watched the daily happening for several long moments, eyes hardened with a hint of confusion. She wondered how everyone else could be going about their business as usual, how everything could be so peaceful after the horrors she'd seen in the Unknown Region. Yes, the announcement was made that over a hundred thousand Corellians died in the fighting, but unless people had a direct connection to those dead, it seemed like they could care less. Holo-ads still blinked on at passing traffic, hawking a variety of wares. Arguments over the pettiest of things breaking out on some distant rooftop, a speeder crash in a distant block, a sports game being broadcasted for all to see.

Vibrant, hectic, an orderly chaos. It was city life at its fullest.

And completely alien to Jysella.

It shouldn't have been. She had spent the better part of her teenage years Corellia, in Coronet. She had been the diplomat, the people-person to her brother's cold-logic military side. She had traveled countless streets from uptown to downtown, the suburbs and the industrial sectors. Had met with the business leaders of many corporations, Corellian Engineering, Coronet Manfacturing, Coronet Foundry. The city had been just another aspect of the Force, pulsating with its own energies like the beat of some exotic dance music. But where before Jysella had heard rhythms, harmonies, she now heard only discordant tones.

As if the entire planet had changed while she had been a way.

Not the planet, she realized, her eyes closing. Her. She had changed.

When did the rooftop gardens, such a peaceful place, become so uncomfortable? Why did the city no longer sound the same as it did before she had left? Jysella tried to meditate on those questions, but couldn't find the serenity to do so.

Frustrated, tearful brown eyes snapped open and she hopped up from her kneeling position to a standing one.

"Jysella I heard you were back and I…" Tarc trailed off as he caught sight of Jysella's almost expressionless, but pained face. "Sella?"

"Tarc?" Jysella made a brief gesture.

Tarc blinked, looked at Jysella again. She seemed just fine, a small but controlled smile on her face. He paused for another moment, wondering if he had imagined the whole thing. Shaking his head to clear it, he smiled. "I heard you were back planet-side for the rest of the week and I wanted to know if you were free for dinner sometime."

"Dinner?" Jysella repeated, almost in disbelief.

"Yeah, you know, the meal us mortals have to eat at night? I gave a tour to the owner of the Brillie, that high-end restaurant downtown, the other day. He apparently liked it so much, he said I could bring a friend to eat with and skip over that three-month reservation list."

"You want to have dinner, with me," Jysella said.

Frowning at the confusion in her voice, Tarc nodded again. "Yeah, that's kind of why I'm asking you. Sella, are you okay?"

"Tarc," Jysella said with a forced calm. "There are currently sixty-five thousand wounded Corellian soldiers being cared for. I have three reports I have to prepare for three separate committees about those soldiers, and explain why a hundred thousand plus more weren't able to make it back. There are three Five World senators proposing bills to divest the Corellian Praxeum of any political power or ability to act without the approval of the Corellian senate. On top of that I also have my regular duties as a Jedi, caring for the Vong war refugees and trying to ensure their camps remain livable. When do you think I have the time to drop everything just so I can dress up and pretend the galaxy has no problems by eating ridiculously overpriced food with you?"

Tarc's expression didn't change. "You could have just said 'no thank you.'"

"No thank you, then," Jysella said, shaking her head. "Right now, Tarc. I don't have time for this…for us or whatever we are. You stick to what you're good at doing, giving tours to rich people. I'll stick to what I'm good at doing, preserving those locations you show off to the rich people because idiot politicians think that knocking it down to create a new sky-rise is a good idea."

"DonoSlaine Excursions thank you," Tarc said back. "You've changed, Sella. And not for the better."

"If I changed, I changed into whatever this galaxy needed me to be to get the job done. The Force guides everything, remember. I didn't choose to become like this, the Force decided I'd be better off like this.

"Well, I don't believe in the Force any more than I believe in Kolot's hunting deities."

"You're at the Jedi Praxeum and you don't believe in the Force?"

"That it exists, yes I believe it. That it's some type of mystical religious thing that controls people's destinies, nope," Tarc took a seat on a bench and stretched his arms out along the back rest. "The way I see it, blaming some religion or mystical power for your lot in life is a lousy excuse. Look at me. My entire family was killed on Coruscant when I was ten, had a corrupt senator rearrange my face so I'd look like Anakin Solo, I was a Vong slave at eleven. And then, through pure luck, I ended up helping some renegade Vong overthrow the Peace Brigade and was then adopted by Kirney and Myn. Tell me, what part of the Force can take into account any of that?"

"You're not a Jedi, you wouldn't understand."

"And I probably wouldn't want to," Tarc said. "If understanding turns you into someone bitter at the world. When I confronted Viqi Shesh on Ylesia, I wanted nothing more than to blast that schutta into oblivion. But then, I took a second look at her, realized that doing so would be a waste of blaster bolt. You can be angry at the galaxy, at the Force, at whatever mystical energies guide your life, but all you'll do is make everyone around you miserable. Or, you can suck it up, try to make the best out of the situation, and let others in to help you out when times get tough."

"Tarc, I just don't have the time."

"You're not the only Jedi in this giant building you know."

"Two Corellian Knights were killed in the war. Natua's in bacta and is getting fitted for a prosthetic leg. Tiu's also in bacta. Dad's trying to help heal the thousands of Joiners we saved. All the other masters are occupied and all the other apprentices are too young to handle this mess," Jysella iterated mildly. "Considering it was my desire to help Anakin out that got the Corellian government to send the fleet, I need to handle the aftermath of the mess too."

"So you're saying that all those Corellians that died are your fault?"

"I didn't say that."

"Sure sounded like that. You're the one who wanted to help out, you're the one who got the government to give you a fleet. Therefore you're the one who has to answer all the hard questions, all by yourself. If you forgot, Jysella, your dad, a Jedi Master, approved of all those actions. Heck, the entire Corellian Praxeum agreed to send you, your dad, and all those other Corellian Jedi to help. Even Prime Minister Teppler, who had just been elected, agreed to send the CDF to help you out. Now, I thought I'd phrase it as a request, but that was my mistake. You're having dinner with me tonight at the Brillie, and for those few hours you're going to forget about it all. If not, I'll tell the Corellian Jedi Masters that you're a hairsbreadth away from going dark because they're lumping everything onto you."

"Really?" Jysella arched an eyebrow. "You do realize that all I have to do is wave my hand and you'll forget about this plan of yours."

"Yeah, but then wouldn't you just be proving me right?" Tarc countered, looking completely relaxed. Seeing her skeptical expression, he elaborated. "After staring down homicidal Vong and fanatic Peace Brigaders, a near-psychotic ex-girlfriend barely rates."

"'Near-psychotic?'" Jysella couldn't help but snort at that. "What are you, a psychologist now?"

"Kirney and Myn are veterans in their own little way," Tarc said, eyes tracking a bird in the sky. "When I told them I was going to ask you to a welcome-back dinner, they gave me a little pep-talk about what I should expect. Strangely enough, everything they've said has been true so far. Dinner, tonight at seven. I'll pick you up."

"Tarc," Jysella said in faint protest.

Tarc stood again, slinging his jacket back over his shoulder. "See you there, Sella. Welcome back."

She reflexively reached out and gripped his hand to keep him from leaving. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Tarc challenged. "You saying that you can stare down bug-armies but a dinner with me makes you flee in terror? If you have to, think of it as a mission to get me off your back."

Jysella let her hand fall back to her side, nodding silently.

"Good, see you then,"

She watched him leave, unable to believe the conversation that had just happened. Had she really just agreed to have dinner with him? To actually relax when she had so much to do, so many lives to try and fix because of her quest to finish what her brother had started?

She groaned. So much for trying to finish her meditation. A bird in a nearby tree let out a series of squawks that almost sounded like laughter. Jysella shot it a dirty look, but the bird didn't seem to care.

"Great, now I have a dinner date," she muttered to no one in particular. She walked to the railing at the edge of the rooftop and stared down at the city below. It just seemed so far removed from everything that had happened the past few months. Could she possibly enjoy a peaceful dinner with no life-threatening aspects anywhere in sight?

Giving up on meditation, on relaxing, Jysella decided to head back inside. If she was going to take the evening off, she had a mountain of reports to work on. Such was the other half of the life as a Jedi.

0-o-V-o-0

Jysella looked at herself in the mirror, the dress she had on was a modified Jedi tunic in the same earthen tones as most Jedi outfits. It wasn't her fault that she hadn't a single piece of fancy clothes to wear to the upscale restaurant Tarc was taking her to. Jedi just don't 'dine out' at fancy places, indulge in the hedonistic aspects of life, because it was against their moral responsibilities… or something like that. She had attended many state dinners, private meals of executives wishing to ingratiate themselves with the Corellian Jedi. Jedi robes were an all-purpose attire, appropriate for both battle and high-end diplomatic functions. Evidently the ancient Jedi of old didn't count on the recent Jedi of new okaying dating and marriage. Thus they didn't use their great powers of foresight to make an appropriate Jedi 'dating outfit'.

Not a date, just a dinner between friends, Jysella mentally reminded herself. The last thing she wanted was to complicate her life more by restarting her romance with Tarc.

"Not bad."

Jysella saw her mom's reflection and rolled her eyes. "'Not bad'? You do know this vest and tunic is meant to be worn to Knighting ceremonies and other semi-formal Jedi events?"

"Your dad has a similar robe," Mirax nodded. "Slightly darker in color. I think it makes him look more Jedi-y than I'd like though."

"Exactly," Jysella groaned, sitting down at the edge of her bed with her face in her hands. "The last thing I want to do is walk into a place like the Brillie and let everyone know I'm a Jedi. Force, why does the Jedi Order have to be the walking advertisement for the most boring clothing line ever!?"

"Good thing you have an amazing mother who has contacts who have contacts and knew that this would happen," Mirax said, pulling out the hand she had tucked behind her back to reveal a sleeveless, glimmering black dress with golden embroidery. "I picked up something for you while you were running about fixing the galaxy."

Jysella, still looking into her hands, just sighed. "Mom, I'm twenty-one, I don't need he…" She had looked up, her eyes growing round at the dress.

"Yes?"

"Never mind, you're an amazing mom," Jysella said, standing and jaw dropping.

"Can't take all the credit. Grandpa had a hand in procuring it. Cyrene silk top, vine-silk gloves, don't ask how grandpa got it. I didn't want to know either, especially since he got it at such short notice." Mirax passed the dress onto to her daughter, then reached down by the door to pick up a pair of high-heels. "Think these are good enough for the Brillie?"

Jysella nodded mutely, her vision swimming.

"You really going to ruin that make up already?" Mirax laughed softly, pulling her daughter into a one-armed hug. "You know, I didn't think this day would ever come."

"Huh?"

"Well, since you joined the Jedi Order at such a young age, I didn't think there'd ever be a day you'd get to wear something other than Jedi clothes. I mean, I have this whole wardrobe of tops your father would have a heart-attack with if he sees you in them, but when was the last time you saw a Jedi wear anything even remotely provocative?"

Jysella couldn't help but giggle, shaking her head despite the torrent of emotions cycling through her.

"Right," Mirax picked up a brush from the table in front of the mirror and began working at the non-existent kinks in Jysella's hair. "Remind me to thank Tarc for giving me an opportunity to play dress-up with my daughter. I figured the next time this is going to happen is when Hoth warms over."

"Mom," Jysella said almost timidly.

"Hmmm?"

Jysella took a deep breath, her vision swimming. "I…I really don't want to go out to the Brillie. I can't take all this quiet stillness. I have to be doing something. And every time I sit around, or dress up, or think about having dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants on Corellia, I can't help but think about the countless other things I should be doing because I'm a Jedi. The things that really matter, really make a differences. Why should I be relaxing, eating over-priced food, when there are refugees in camps across this planet just scraping by? Every day someone needs something from the Jedi Order, and we can't just ignore them. Valin poured his whole life into helping keep the Corellian system stable. He even missed a few holidays because he was taking care of pirates, lost refugees, and other larger problems. And since he's…he's with the Force now, I have to continue doing what he started too…otherwise, everything he fought and died for might go to waste and I can't…I am not…."

Jysella couldn't even finish her sentence as tears poured freely down her cheeks, her body shaking with silent sobs. Mirax silently drew her daughter to her in a gentle hug, rubbing her back soothingly as she did.

"I'm not nearly the Jedi he was," Jysella whimpered softly, clinging to her mom. "I can't do everything he did. I try, but it's never enough. There's always something else…always. And every time…every time, I have to keep pushing myself, I have to keep going, because it's what he would have done. Valin never gave up. Even with the bug war, even surrounded and knowing that the only way he could save us was to sacrifice himself, he fought to the very end. And I don't even have any bugs to squash now that the war's over. What do I do mom? I…"

"Sella," Mirax said tenderly, pulling back slightly to look Jysella in the eyes.

Jysella fell quiet, tears continuing to travel down her cheeks.

"You've been traveling at lightspeed these past few months, and then somebody's decided to pull the emergency brakes. What you're going to do is learn to live slowly. One minute at a time, one hour at a time, one day at a time," Mirax reached out to wipe one of the tear tracks away. "Forget about your reports, forget about the fact that you're a Jedi, or the buildings that need to be built, the treaties and laws that are being created. All of that. One minute, one hour, one day, you're going to rebuild yourself with tiny goals. Like, in the next minute, your goal is to put on those very nice silk gloves your grandfather acquired through probably not-too-legal-means. The minute after that, you're going to focus on putting on the dress, then the shoes. In an hour, you'll have practiced walking in those high-heels since you've lived most your life in those Jedi boots of yours. One minute, one hour, one day. Once you've gotten that mastered, take life in bigger chunks. One week, one month, and so on."

"One minute, one hour, one day," Jysella repeated softly, eyes downcast.

"Exactly," Mirax murmured. "I'm going to talk with your father, give you some leave time. You've taken way too much on your shoulders."

Jysella's head shot up, an almost desperate glint in her eyes. "But I need the work, the pressure. I…"

"Need to relax," Mirax said with a hint of firmness. "You're wound up tighter than a hyperdrive coil. There are other Jedi who can take up the work load."

"The other Jedi are all on one assignment or another," Jysella shook her head. "And they don't know the politicians and the heads of the refugee camps like I do. What if…"

"They will learn from their mistakes, just like you did when you first started off," Mirax again interrupted. "And quit looking ahead, Jysella. That's neither in the next minute, hour, or day. What you're going to focus on right now is that nice dinner Tarc's planned for you."

"Then what?" Jysella said hoarsely. "I can't just forget, let everything go."

"When was the last time you danced?" Mirax said with a ghost of a smile.

"Huh?"

"The way you're acting right now, I was just reminded of a moment almost a year ago. Broken from everything she had seen, desperate for direction, for reassurance, a young Jedi woman came to this very house. But she found the family life uncomfortable, a reminder of everything she had lost so she fled back out into the solitude of night. Another Jedi, who had come to admire her, who knew that there was still good in that Jedi despite what everyone else thought, went out to her then. Together, they danced away her pain, reminded her who and what she fought for."

Jysella felt a fresh set of tears sit in her eyes. "I…I can't. I don't want to dance anymore."

"I think Alema and her sister would be disappointed, you know," Mirax changed tracks. "To see their prized student throwing aside all that talent."

"They'd understand."

"They'd understand that you're taking the easy way out. It might bring up painful memories, but I promise that the good ones will surface too. After your dinner with Tarc, dance again, Jysella. Dance until you find that beat again. Find that rhythm that filled you with life and happiness."

"I'll try," Jysella said almost reluctantly.

"Do you really want me to quote that tiny old green Jedi at you?" Mirax arched an eyebrow.

"Fine, I'll do it," Jysella smiled a ghost of a smile. "Just…don't expect anything to happen. I haven't felt like dancing in forever."

"As long as you don't expect anything to happen either," Mirax impressed upon her daughter. "Complicated emotional things take time, doubly so if you're a Jedi. Stop living at lightspeed and slow down to a more mortal pace. Trust me on this, okay?"

Jysella wet her lips and nodded, picking up the pair of silken gloves again. "Thank Grandpa Booster for the dress and stuff. Probably the first 'nice' outfit I've ever worn."

"I'll let him know. You should have seen how excited he was to get his granddaughter something that wasn't 'Cor-Sec Jedi inspired'."

Jysella did laugh at that. "Thanks…mom."

"Pep talks and fancy dresses are what moms are for," Mirax hugged her daughter again. "Stop growing up so fast, Sella. Really takes all the fun out of life when you do."

"I'll try, mom, I really will."

"And that is all I can hope for," Mirax caressed Jysella's face affectionately. "Now starting getting dressed. You only have a few hours before that dinner of yours."

0-o-VI-o-0

"You okay? You seem more…We don't know, relaxed," Myri Antilles commented.

Jysella shrugged. "Just taking things one minute, one hour, one day at a time. Kind of my new mantra now."

"Well you Jedi are all about patience and meditation and thinking about thinking." Myri followed Jysella's movement through the hospital room. "Not sure we could ever live like that. We were a bit surprised when we got your message though. Thought you had to get ready for those big senate hearings and political mess the war caused."

"Corellian Masters gave me some time off," Jysella replied, rolling her eyes at her mom's meddling in Jedi business. Evidently Mirax had talked to Corran, who talked with the other Masters, who all agreed that she had been asked to do too much. Never mind that the Corellian Jedi, Green Jedi, could scarcely afford to give anyone time off now that they were independent from the greater Jedi Order. Or that, thanks to the Swarm War, they were two-thirds the size they had once been. The Masters all thought that giving her time off would help.

Unfortunately, this meant the Jysella had far too much time on her hands, too much time to think and stew and do all sorts of things that her Jedi assignments would normally have kept her away from. She let out a breath, staring at the still dark morning sky.

"Lucky me then," Myri said carefully.

"How's the un-Joining coming along?" Jysella asked, opening her knapsack and pulling out a few focusing crystals and the tiara-like headband.

"Slowly," Myri picked at her sheets. "Being Joined, it's peaceful and everything, but it's like everything is moving at a slug's pace. You're one person, but at the same time you're sharing the thoughts of billions, seeing multiple stars and suns and planets and cities all at once. Regular human brains just can't process all that so it's like moving through syrup, almost like overloading a HoloNet site with too much data. I can think in the singular now, but when it comes time to talk, that jump doesn't make it to our…my, damn it…mouth. It's infuriating."

Jysella couldn't help but laugh softly, catching the attention of Myri.

"Something funny?"

"Ironic more like. Here I am living, according to my mom, at 'lightspeed' and trying to slow down. Here you are, at slug-speed trying to reach where I am. Is slug-speed really that bad?"

Myri closed her eyes, smiling. "We wouldn't say bad. It's just…We guess both Syal and us have inherited dad's fighter-pilot-have-to-be-somewhere genes. Sitting in this hospital bed, being treated like someone who's mentally deficient, a basket-case, we just want to go back out there. See the galaxy and all its dirty little secrets. Looking out at the stars every night, we have to wonder just how much of that galaxy is passing us by every second we're sitting here on this bed."

"I know the feeling," Jysella said, placing the tiara onto Myri's head. "Both my mom and Tarc have told me that I should start taking it easy, try to get back to living a normal life that doesn't involve battle-plans, late night emergency alarms, and the constant fear of death. But I…I don't have clue where to begin. I've been trained since a little girl to be a Jedi, protector of the weak, vanquisher of darkness, and all those other things. Never once has anyone trained me to live a 'normal' life. To tell me how to live at slug-speed. Every time I try to slow down, even think about doing so, my mind immediately snaps back to those thousands, millions of people I could be helping otherwise."

"I know, right?" Myri said, her eyes lighting up. "It's like we've seen so much, know exactly how bad the galaxy can get, and yet we're told to take it easy, to take our time to heal. But how can we knowing about all those threats, all those monsters in the night that are taking advantage of every second we're 'relaxing'."

"I had dinner with Tarc last night," Jysella said conversationally, switching topic.

"Oh, how'd that go?"

"Not quite a disaster, but not something I'd want to do again either."

"What happened?"

"Things started out fine," Jysella took a seat next to Myri's bed and began to focus on the Force. "But then someone popped a cork and I mistook it for a blast-bug going off. Another table was celebrating someone's birthday and I mistook their cries of happiness and celebration for ones of panic and pain. I was such a bundle of nerves, I didn't even remember what I ate or what we talked about. I'm only grateful that guy got us a private booth since I literally jumped out of my chair several times looking for a lightsaber I had left at home."

"That stinks, I…ouch!" Myri suddenly inhaled at the Force-connection to her mind.

"Sorry about that, got a bit too emotional," Jysella quickly dialed back the pressure.

"It's okay," Myri answered, her eyes fluttering. "Hey, wait, do whatever it is you're doing again."

Raising an eyebrow, Jysella sent an emotional spike into Myri's brain, a combination of bittersweet and embarrassment.

"That memory!" Myri gasped aloud. "That was the time we got dad a holocron for his birthday, spent our monthly allowance on it, only to learn that it was actually a fake after giving it to him! We…I was ten years old."

"Interesting," Jysella muttered. "Can I try something else?"

"Yes please," Myri said almost plaintively.

Concentrating on Myri's mind, Jysella followed up on the small memory fragment, using her abilities to help reconstruct the events immediately before and after. The 'before memory' was unveiled with jolts of eager hope, of anticipation. The 'after' mapped out with injections of resolve and determination. Myri's mind worked and digested information at lightning speeds, the reason why she was so good an operator.

Myri gripped the sheets of her bed, her jaw clenching as the memory unfolded in a series of chains, each unlocked with corresponding emotional prompts. "Gods it hurts."

'Do you want me to stop?"

"No, keep going," Myri managed to get out, gasping in pain. "We have to remember who we are. We don't want to put my family through any more pain by forgetting things like dad's birthday…and trips through ventilation shafts…" She giggled despite the pain, tears escaping eyes tightly closed. "So that's what Syal meant by the look on Booster's face. Booster….oh, he made the guy who scammed me give me a full refund and a bonus for my troubles…How could I forget that! And…ugh…hurts…keep going..,."

Jysella exhaled shakily. "Only a little more then, your mind can't take much more."

"As much as it can take then," Myri panted, groaning in pain again. Of course, her distress set off a series of alarms from the hospital equipment around her room. "Oh Bantha poo."

A team of on-call doctors swarmed into the room.

"I'm okaaaay," Myri yelped. "Okay…okay. Just experimental Jedi healing thingy."

Though Myri had her eyes closed and couldn't see the reaction, Jysella saw a combination of skeptical and fearful looks thrown her way. Wryly, she glanced at the lead doctor. "If it'll make you feel better, you can call her older sister and she can hold a blaster to my head while I do this. If not, please disconnect those blasted machines and leave the room, I need to concentrate."

The doctors muted the machines and hesitantly edged back out of the room.

"You know," Myri panted. "Argh, I don't think this is what people mean when they say their life is flashing before their eyes."

"I'm stopping now, your brain is starting to react negatively."

"Now it's reacting negatively?" Myri laughed, then groaned. "What was it doing when you were having all those memories pop up?"

"Reacting un-positively," Jysella replied, letting her hands fall to her side. She let out a groan of her own, surprised at how draining the session had been. "We must have done something right, I'm completely wiped."

"What'd you do different?" Myri asked, then reached up to her nose when she felt something running. "Besides pop a few blood vessels. It's a good thing Syal's not here or she'd freak."

Jysella handed her a tissue, and did a brief scan to ensure she didn't cause any permanent damage. She felt a strange disconnect from reality as she reflected on Myri's question. "Got more emotionally involved I guess."

"Huh?" Myri used one hand to hold the tissue to her nose and the other to hand Jysella the tiara.

"Memories based on emotions are stronger, last longer," Jysella explained, shaking herself from her thoughts. "When I accidently jolted your mind with what I was feeling from the dinner, it stirred your own brain into finding a similar situation."

"How come you didn't do it before?"

"Jedi are taught to separate their emotions when they do delicate things with the Force. Brain-surgery and memory reconstruction kind of count as delicate."

"So you tried something different?"

"Not really," Jysella bit her lower lip in embarrassment. "I guess, I've had a lot of emotions running about today…yesterday, and things kind of spilt over. I'd probably get ten different lectures about the damage I could have caused if this gets out."

"I certainly won't tell. I'll leave the Jedi mumbo-jumbo to you," Myri said. She then brightened again. "I said 'I'! There! I did it again! And again!"

"Temporary," Jysella said, cautioning her. "The neural pathways are currently forced open so the memories we just dug up and pieced together will probably be as vivid as all those other ones the Killiks let you keep. Once the mental inflammation, so to speak, subsides, you'll still have the memories but will probably go back to speaking in third-person."

"Aww, really?" Myri groaned. "And I'm guessing what we did burned my brain out a little bit so we need to wait a while before we do it again?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Fine, I guess I should take advantage of this opportunity and say "I' as many times as I can. I, I, I, I."

"Glad you're so happy," Jysella couldn't help but smile.

"Are you kidding? Every time I speak in third person or third-person possessive, the doctors, my family, everyone looks at me like I'm speaking Ewokese or something. How long do I have to wait for the next session?"

"Not sure, like I said, what I just did isn't exactly Jedi sanctioned. I was injecting some of my own emotions into your brain to stimulate it into finding memories that matched the emotion. I went basic this time around and followed the chains of memories that popped up. I'm not sure what would happen if I gave your brain an emotion it didn't have a corresponding instance for."

"Aren't emotions universal?"

"Yes, but the depths of some emotions aren't," Jysella answered, putting away the focusing crystals. "For example, if I shared with you what I was feeling the second I felt my brother vanish from the Force, you probably would have been more damaged than anything."

"Oh…" Myri paused.

"Myri!" Syal's voice came from the hallway.

"I guess the doctors really did call her," Jysella muttered.

The Corellian pilot sprinted into the room, blaster in one hand.

"And he really told her to bring her blaster too," Myri blinked. "Hi sis. No need for that. I'm better, well kind of, I think. Jedi Horn said it's sort-of temporary and that I should be reverting back to my buggy self when my brain gets over her experimental Jedi treatment…"

Syal stopped in her tracks, eyes darting from her sister, the Jysella, the light from the morning sun streaming through the window and bathing the room in a golden light. Her sister was smiling broadly, while Jysella was standing off to the side with a guarded expression on her face. Then, realizing what her sister had said, Syal's eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm partially cured, we, as in Jedi Horn and I and not the royal bug we, think." Myri repeated excitedly.

"Really?" Syal gaped.

"We'll probably need a few more treatment sessions," Jysella said softly. "But I think I have a handle on what will speed up her recovery."

"And the blood coming from her nose?" Syal gestured to the blood-dyed tissue.

"I wanted Jedi Horn to push me to my limits," Myri said in Jysella's defense. "Now we, she and I, know that her mystical Jedi healing technique thingy can actually work so we can moderate it. Right?"

"Yes," Jysella nodded. "I can go over what I did and come up with a regimen that will not only help your sister, but probably many of the other Joiners as well. The only downside is that I do not see the Corellian Jedi Masters outright endorsing such a technique."

"What? Why not?" Syal frowned.

"As I told your sister, Jedi are taught to keep their emotions out of what they are doing. When emotions get involved, things get difficult, can go wrong. When passion, anger, and darker emotions are involved, the technique is said to be a 'dark side' technique and is roundly shunned and forbidden."

"So you used a forbidden, experimental technique on my sister's brain."

"Syal!"

"When you put it that way, yes," Jysella answered.

"Didn't you tell me the other day that if given time, she'd recover on her own?"

"Syal! I was the one who…"

"It's okay, Special Operator Antilles," Jysella said evenly. "I did say that. But some of the Joiners are nowhere near her current state, might not ever recover on their own, and the technique I used will more than benefit them if done properly. Are you going to deny them the same opportunity your sister has at recovering her memory because of your fear of Jedi and our techniques?"

"I'm not afraid," Syal glared. "But just like over Ilum and in the Unknown Regions, it sounds as if you barely know what you are doing. What I'm worried about is that you're going to do more damage than good in your half-baked attempt to make things right. If we were pawns to you in the battlefield, why do you care about what happens to the soldiers and Joiners after the war?"

"Because the war is over now," Jysella answered softly, making no move to leave the room. The rising sun shone brightly behind her, illuminating her in its light. "The war is over and now we heal. All of us. You, me, the soldiers, the Joiners, everyone. There's been enough death, enough hate and mistrust, if I can make one small difference by helping your sister, I will."

"But why?"

"Because," Jysella continued, her eyes flickering up to hold Syal's steely gaze. "We may be soldiers in war, or ambassadors of peace. Healers of the sick, protectors of the weak. We're someone's daughter, son, sister, brother, husband, wife. Our choices affect thousands, millions, billions even, and we have to live with that burden every single minute, hour, and day of our lives. Why? Because we're Jedi. And at the end of that minute, hour, and day, that's what I am. Like my father, and my brother before me. I try to make this galaxy a better place because at the core of who I am, I am a Jedi."

0-o-Chapter End-o-0

A\N: And now we have three chapters left =). Updates on Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday to finish this story off. Thanks again to everyone reading along. If the statistic thingy is accurate at all, I'm averaging around the high thirties a day in terms of individual visitors. Nice to know you all like this universe I'm creating. Next up is Jaina!