He should have been dead. Instead he was alive and she was dying, dying because of him, and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it or change the events that had led to this. Kol Skywalker burned with shame and regret that hurt far more than the wound to his body, and when he learned that his mother and brother had arrived, along with the Grand Master and cousins he'd not seen for years, he tried to hide away from them all.

They didn't let him, of course. He tried to hole himself inside his bedroom in the damutek he and the other Jedi trainees lived inside, but a few long hours after the shuttle's arrival he heard a faint knocking on the door and felt his mother on the other side. Without him saying a word, that door slid open and Jade stepped inside.

He'd been sitting on the bed, legs curled against his chest and forehead on his knees, as though by huddling against himself and denying the outside he could deny the terrible things that had happened. Jade sat onto the bed beside him without a word, grabbed him around the shoulders, and squeezed him as hard as she could.

Kol had expected that, and he'd planned to stay stoic, but his mother's touched made him break down crying. He didn't moan or sob, but tears ran down his face and his body shook as Jade held him tighter. He cried for a few minutes, until his breathing grew steady again and he found the strength to tell her, "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's alright, Kol."

"Aunt Jaina… I-"

"It's alright," she repeated, and hand her hands through his hair. "I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost you. Are you okay? How is your body?"

He picked his head off his knees and let her slide a hand to his chest. The blaster shot would have killed him in seconds if Jaina hadn't intervened. Instead of a horrible scorched hole above his heart there was now just pink skin, soft and fresh, a little sensitive. Most of the pain he felt came from his soul, not his body.

When she felt that smooth healed flesh Jade hugged him a little tighter. "Oh, Kol. I'm so glad you're okay."

"I'm not, okay." He felt more sobs welling up inside him. "Aunt Jaina… It was my fault. I was stupid… I ran up there… I wasn't thinking… I was just trying to be… to be…."

"A Jedi," his mother whispered as she nestled her face in his hair.

"I'm not a Jedi," he whimpered. They'd told him that again and again but he'd never understood it until now. He was a child, a stupid child, and thinking otherwise had gotten Jaina killed.

But Jade said, "You will be. A great one. And it's because of your aunt."

"But it's my-"

"It was her choice," Jade said. "Don't take that from her. She chose to pass her life to yours."

It was enough to make him cry again. This bout of sobs lasted a shorter time, and when he was done his mother told him, "Your aunt's not gone yet. She's fading fast, but she's not gone."

He didn't know if he could face her. Jade tugged him toward the edge of the bed and he let himself be pulled. His legs unfolded, reached town, and touched the floor. She raised him to his feet with both hands.

"Are they all…. here?" Kol didn't know if he could face his relatives.

"They're not blaming you, Kol. Nobody is." Jade bent forward and stroked his cheek. "What she gave you is a gift. You have to treasure that."

He knew it was true, and that it would take time for him to really believe it. He also knew that he couldn't hide from the eyes of his family, not forever. Not if he was still going to become a brave, true Jedi.

Jade moved her hand down to grab his. "Let's go, Kol."

He nodded and stepped through the door. Nat was in the hallway beyond. Kol hadn't even sensed his brother. The older boy stared down at the younger, and Kol felt like he was going to cry again, but Nat stepped up and wrapped his brother in a strong firm hug. Kol bent his head against Nat's chest, returned the hug, and barely kept himself from crying again.

Nat held him tight and hard, like he was afraid his brother might slip away. After a minute his grip started to loosen, and Jade said, "Come on, you two. Everyone's waiting."

-{}-

They'd placed Jaina inside a quiet damutek on the edge of the Middle Distance. She'd been laid on a bed and they could only watch as she faded in and out of consciousness. Her face looked ravaged and old yet somehow peaceful, and when she drifted into sleep it looked content. When Jade and her sons arrived, a small crowd had already gathered inside. Allana, Arlen, and Lowbacca had also come from Ossus. Roan Fel had too, and the young prince clearly felt out of place around so many Jedi. The rest of his family was coming, but not here yet.

After what had happened in the southern wastes, they'd flown Jaina and Kol to the Middle Distance immediately. Here in the northern hemisphere, the lushness of natural life made Sekot's power stronger too. Kol had already been pushed back from the brink of death by Jaina, and the living world's strength seemed to have accelerated the healing.

"I'm also doing what I can to keep her alive," Sekot told them as they gathered by Jaina's bedside. "Her life is faint… but I'm trying to blow on the embers and keep them warm until the rest of your family arrives. If this had happened in a place where my powers are greater… Perhaps I could have done more."

Jaina had been asleep for the past several hours, eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly. Despite that all eyes had been on her until the sudden appearance of a small blonde-haired boy amongst them. Most of them had never seen the living planet manifest itself and fewer had seen it take the form of a young Anakin Skywalker. Kol, Nat, Roan, and even Arlen stared at the boy with shock and curiosity that jarred them from of their gloom.

Tahiri Veila had lived on this planet for many years, and the old woman addressed Sekot like a familiar friend. "We appreciate all you're doing more than we can say. I'm sure she does as well."

"I just wish I could do more," Sekot said mournfully, so human.

Arlen looked at his mother and asked, "How long do you think… it can last?"

"Life is a curious thing," Sekot mused. "It weakens and grows, sometimes of its own accord, and death is not its opposite but merely a facet. But you're Jedi. You must know that."

Lowbacca gave a low, mournful roar.

Allana had been standing in the corner for a long time, watching, saying nothing. She'd had to deal with her own mother dying a few years back and watching Jaina's slow death in bed felt like an echo of Tenel Ka's. Allana knew that those women were the lucky ones; far too many of their friends and loved ones hadn't died old or in bed. She could see the pain on the young ones' faces: Roan, Nat, Kol most of all. Arlen had already lost his father, Jade both parents; their faces conveyed a grim expectancy. Allana mourned too, yet deep down a part of her was relieved that her aunt would die like this, surrounded by family.

Sekot vanished as quickly as it had appeared. After it was gone, Tahiri and Lowbacca slipped out of the damutek. Allana waited a minute, then joined them outside. Clouds had settled over the Middle Distance, spreading a faint and formless gray in every direction. The air was cool and damp but no rain fell. It was, Allana thought, a day to fall asleep on.

Tahiri and Lowbacca were incongruous together: the tiny white-haired woman and the towering Wookiee, pelt still richly red-brown. They were the two oldest Jedi here besides Jaina. One would be joining her and Tenel Ka soon enough. The other would live for centuries yet. Allana wondered what it was like for Wookiees to outlive their loved ones again and again. She wondered if they ever got used to it.

Allana stepped up beside Tahiri and said, "Thank you for getting Jaina here as soon as possible. If not for Sekot's power…"

"I know." Tahiri looked at the blank gray sky. "I just wish… Things had gone differently down there."

Lowbacca told her it was the will of the Force, and Jaina's will, that she pass this way. Allana hoped it was true, but she also knew Kol would have a difficult time growing up with the weight of Jaina's sacrifice. She only hoped he would grow stronger for it.

Allana sighed. Just days ago, her thoughts had all been elsewhere. She, Jade, Tanith, and Lowbacca had been busily weighing options on how to fight the Sith and remove Hapes' tyrant from her throne. That weight was still on her, and it all felt compounded by her aunt's nearing death. Jaina had been a part of her life almost as far back as she could remember. She'd taken on the awful burden of killing her brother Jacen after he'd fallen to the dark, and instead of breaking beneath it she'd remained resilient. Allana had always looked to her aunt as the model of what a Jedi should be and as years passed Jaina increasingly became her only living tether to those who'd shaped her and were gone: her grandparents Han and Leia, later her mother, and in a strange way Jacen too. With Jaina nearly gone, Allana felt cast adrift just when she needed guidance.

It was all that, and worse. People she'd cared for has passed one by one, and decades had grown from decades, but Allana had never really started to feel worn down until her mother had. Tenel Ka had spent her last years on Dathomir and seemed at peace with what she'd gained and lost, but she hadn't known her former home was under Sith domination. Knowing the whole truth just in time to watch her last link with the past forced Allana to look back on her decades as senator, Chief of State, and Jedi. She'd thought she'd done the best at every turn but for all those years she'd done nothing for Hapes. Regret piled on regret. She'd never felt so old.

Lowbacca made a low moan and looked up. Allana and Tahiri did too. They heard the drone of a starship's engines, then spotted a single shuttle, smooth-hulled and bright-red, drop out of the clouds and fall across the sky toward the city's landing zone.

"They're all here now," Tahiri whispered.

Allana turned away from the shuttle as it continued its descent. She went inside the damutek and called to Roan and Arlen, telling them that their brothers had arrived.

-{}-

When Davek Fel stepped before the threshold of his mother's home there was a second where his body refused to move. On the long journey from Imperial Space to here, he told himself he could handle it. He'd survived the sudden and violent death of his father; not moved past it, exactly, or beyond it, but almost a decade's worth of days had marched on since then, one after another. They would continue for decades after this. He knew it, and he thought he'd be ready, but he wasn't.

It had been eight years since he'd seen his mother in person. He'd talked to her via holo from time to time but it wasn't the same. Time and so much more had gone between them. It had separated him from his brother as well. It had all been necessary to make the Empire strong and secure, equal and just as his father had wanted; Jaina and Arlen might not have seen it that way but he believed it as firmly as he ever had. The separation had been necessary but it still painful.

The separation beyond the door would be deeper and more final. That was why he froze; because once his mother died, the last hope of putting his family together again would go too.

But he only stopped for a moment. Marasiah was right behind him. Vitor too, and Roan, who'd come out to the landing pad to greet them along with Tahiri Veila. On the way here the old woman had explained why Davek's mother was dying and said Zonama Sekot's ruling consciousness was doing its best to keep her alive until she could say goodbye to her loved ones. Davek didn't understand that but he's never understood Sekot. Not even the Jedi seemed to. They only trusted it, like they trusted the Force.

Davek took a breath and stepped into the damutek. The light inside the domed organic building was low, and as his eyes adjusted to the gloom Davek marked giant Lowbacca first, then Allana, then Jade Skywalker and her sons, then his brother. His eyes met Arlen's from across the room; then Arlen looked down at the bed on which their mother laid.

His first thought was what she looked wasted. Holos could never fully capture the toll age took. Yet her lined face looked peaceful. All of her looked peaceful as she lay on her back, eyes closed, hands folded on the blanket pulled up to her chest. She looked dead already, but he noticed the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Lowbacca gave a sad roar. Arlen said, "The Grand Master extends his deepest sympathies."

"We're grateful. Thank you for being here," Davek said. He remembered the brown-robed Wookiee had known his mother longer than anyone in this room; maybe anyone left alive.

Vitor stepped close to the bed and stared down at his grandmother. His face was pale, his eyes sunken. Since the end of the battle at Kovix-589, something had left him deeply jarred. He said little and barely ate. He'd stare into nothing for long stretches of time, ignoring the conversation around him. Marasiah could tell he was deeply distracted by something, but he wouldn't share what. Vitor had come close to dying before but his near-execution on Nemesis must have rattled him more than Davek had anticipated.

"When was the last time she woke up?" Vitor asked.

"Six or seven hours," said Arlen. "She's been… in and out. Sekot's doing everything it can to keep her strong."

"We've heard," Davek said. "Is your daughter here?"

Arlen shook his head. "She's on Mandalore. Apparently. I sent her a message. She should be coming soon."

Davek could tell from his voice Arlen was worried about his daughter as much as his mother, but this wasn't the time to pry. Barring Marin they were all assembled now. Maybe Sekot would keep Jaina alive until she showed. Maybe it wasn't strong enough, and she'd slip away in her sleep. Maybe she'd dissolve before their eyes, and they'd watch together as her sheets collapsed softly on an empty bed.

There was still so much Davek couldn't know. From the looks on their faces all these Jedi who should have known didn't either. They were all keeping the same deathwatch. It strangely made him feel better.

"We heard about the big battle," Arlen said. "Is it really over?"

"The Restorationist fleet has surrendered," Davek nodded. "So have their last outlying bases. We're still making sure we've found their last nests… But yes. Essentially, it's over."

The start of that conflict had split their family apart. It had made Davek into an Emperor, his wife into Empress and First Knight, his sons into Princes. The war was over but the separation was not. They'd come too far to undo everything.

"We're very glad for you," Allana told him. "For everyone in the Empire. I hope… We all hope you can make an Empire your father would be proud of."

He'd never wanted anything else. "Thank you. We've heard about events in the Hapes Cluster. I assume you were involved."

"Not just me. Jade was there. So were Arlen and Nat. And Roan."

Davek looked back at his younger son. They'd barely spoken since before the Battle of Kovix-589. He was being reticent too, though he didn't seem depressed and anxious like Vitor.

"We helped your brother save lives," Roan said simply. "It wasn't planned, but… we did it."

"That's good," Marasiah said softly.

Davek looked back at Allana. "I heard the losses were very bad."

"They were. I heard yours weren't."

"That was all thanks to Vitor, really." He put a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed, but Vitor didn't brighten.

A soft moan from the bed drew everyone's attention. Jaina's lips had creaked apart. Her eyelids twitched, then opened slowly. Her dark eyes rolled to take in Davek, Vitor, Roan, Marasiah.

"We're here now," Davek told his mother. "We made it."

"Do you want to sit up?" asked Arlen. "We'll get you some water."

Jaina nodded weakly. Arlen propped her up on the bed and Nat fetched a glass of water and handed it to her. She had the strength to clasp it and raise it to her lips, but her hands trembled. Davek knew this might be the last time his mother ever woke up.

Once Jaina drank and Nat took the cup, she looked over her assembled family again. "You said it was over," she creaked.

Davek realized she must have been listening, even when she'd seemed unconscious. "Yes. The Restorationists are finally defeated. Veers is dead and Grave is in custody. So are their other leaders. We're not sure what we'll do with all of them yet… But yes. It's done."

"And… Allana? Is it over?"

She shook her head. "No. Not even close."

"Then come closer… Both of you. Tell me."

"There's a lot to tell," Allana said.

"And I want to hear it. I'm not…. gone yet." Jaina smiled weakly. "I want to know everything."

-{}-

Dying was better than Jaina had thought it would be. She'd seen death come to so many others in so many ways: Anakin burning out with his own power, Jacen with his sister's lightsaber through his heart, her first wingmate Anni Captisan in a fireball over Ithor. She'd felt the death of other loved ones in the Force or learned of it second-hand: Chewbacca, Aunt Mara, Zekk, Katia, Lusa. Jagged. And a lucky few she'd watched fade out peacefully, like Tenel Ka. For much of Jaina's life, especially those early formative years, she'd been certain she'd die from a Yuuzhan Vong thud bug, a blaster bolt or a lightsaber. She'd couldn't have imagined growing old when she was young. She'd never been able to imagine life at peace either, not for the Sword of the Jedi, and had been faintly skeptical when it had come.

Peace came and peace went, just like war. Neither lasted forever. As she listened to Allana and Davek she was reminded of what she already knew. The battle between Jedi and Sith, living embodiments of the Force and its opposing sides, had gone on for generations and could continue generations after her. And each generation would face its trials, and some would overcome, and some would not. And time would pass and generations would pass and still there would be Jedi and there would be Sith.

It was a fact that could break a person, but Jaina had endured too much to be broken by knowledge.

Once Davek had explained everything about the Empire's ending war, Allana talked about Hapes, and about the Sith. By the time they'd finished the day outside was over and the sun set invisibly behind layered clouds. Her grandchildren were hungry and restless and trying not to show it.

Jaina still had the energy to keep awake, so she said, "Everyone else…. Go on ahead. I'll be all right, for now. Davek, Arlen… Stay, please."

When the room was emptied of everyone except her sons, they both stepped close to her bed. The orange glow of the lamp carved harsh shadows on their faces. One was a Jedi Master and the other an Emperor, but their eyes were both that of frightened and uncertain children.

They tried to be strong. Arlen was worried about his daughter. Where she was, Jaina didn't know. Marin had always had a difficult path, wrested from one life and made to straddle two more. Her response had been to try and strike a unique life of her own and Jaina knew how difficult that could be for a Jedi. She knew, too, how Arlen's heart must ache knowing that his child's life was no longer in his hands.

And then there was Davek. He looked so much like his father, with the trim beard, faint scar across the forehead, and white streak in his hair. He was one of the most powerful men in the galaxy but seemed more vulnerable than his brother. Arlen had seen other Jedi die and trusted that their souls would survive somehow in the Force. Davek could never have that certainty.

Jaina's heart ached for him. Jedi consoled themselves in thinking that their essence would never truly pass away, but they had no answer for what lay beyond life for everyone else. It pained Jaina to think her mother, Uncle Luke, Ben and Mara and her brothers all still lived through the Force while Davek, Jagged, and her father were consigned to oblivion. It was unfair, it was cruel. If part of her concrete awareness did persist after death, distinct from Luke's and Ben's and Mara's, she didn't want to spent eternity missing her father, her son, and her husband.

She didn't know, couldn't know, what would happen next. For so long that had troubled her. She'd spent hours silently pondering the fates of all her dead, wondering how much of Anakin or Jacen endured. The darkness after death sometimes seemed a deeper, more dangerous one that the Force's dark side. There could be no escape from it and no appeal. It took everyone in the end, Jedi or not. What lay in the waiting dark was a mystery she'd contemplated for ninety years.

She'd get answers very soon, once the last embers went cold. She was no longer afraid of answers. Letting go would be easy, but she wasn't ready to release, not yet. All her life she'd protected the legacy of generations past and built a new legacy for the future. She understood the coming conflict and knew she had to play her last, small part in it before the end.

"Arlen," Jaina said, "Come. Closer."

He crouched down at her side and rested one hand on hers. "What do you need?"

"You'll be going…. To Hapes. Won't you?"

"We're going to need every Jedi we can get."

"Nat?"

Arlen hesitated. "I'll let Jade decide."

"That's good." Jaina smiled weakly. "You're just his Master. Let his mother have the final say."

"Of course," Arlen laughed softly.

"But you'll take Jedi to Hapes… and Shedu Maad. That won't be enough."

"If what Terrid said is true, we outnumber the Sith twenty to one."

"The Sith have the whole Hapan fleet."

"We can…. work around them. Somehow."

Jaina shook her head. "No. You need more than that. Davek?"

Her younger son swallowed. He saw what was coming. Davek knelt down beside Arlen. "Yes?"

"Yours fleets… They're good, aren't they? In good condition?"

"We made it through the last battle better than expected," he admitted.

"Then you know what you have to do."

"Mother it's…. It's not that simple."

"You're the Emperor. You're not bound by politics like the Alliance. Those ships will go wherever you send them."

"It's not just the ships, it's the people. I've just told them they've finished with one long war. I can't ask them to go fight another in a place we have no business in."

"The Sith helped start your war," Arlen reminded. "They're your enemies too."

Davek sighed and bowed his head. Jaina could sense his conflict. He was a good ruler thinking about the wellbeing of his people and afraid to get good soldiers killed in a war that was, first and foremost, Jedi business. But a part of him did want to help at Hapes. He knew all the Sith had done so far, and the threat they presented. Most of all he couldn't bring himself to reject his mother's last request. His earnest conflict ached her heart.

"Davek, please." She placed a frail hand on his as it gripped the edge of the bed. "You and your brother… If you do this together, you can win. You, him. The Jedi… the Imperial Knights."

Softly, Arlen added, "We need any help we can get."

Davek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I need to talk this over. With Marasiah and Allana."

"You'll choose right, Davek," Jaina said. "I know it."

He nodded just a little, like he was reluctantly agreeing. Then he stood up and straightened his tunic, so Jag-ish, and left the room. Arlen watched him go but didn't move from his mother's side.

"That's a lot to ask of him," he said once his brother was gone.

"The Sith have to be stopped. And Hapes… liberated." Jaina said. "And this family… back together."

She squeezed his hand a little. Arlen squeezed back as he stared at the door as if expecting his brother to return, but Jaina knew her son's thoughts were on a different loved one, still wayward, whom he needed just as much.

-{}-

Marin wanted only to leave Loracan and never return. Her escape was delayed by the injuries she'd sustained and the damage done to Mekr's ship. While she lay aboard its sick bay, getting the wound in her side patched up, her uncle flew the Bottom Line up to the large settlement on the planet's northern continent for repairs. Tamar piloted her daughter's X-wing and followed, leaving the wreckage of Kaynar Auch's ship behind along with the crash's sole survivor. The ship looked like its emergency distress beacons were intact. The boy could use those to summon for help. Marin prayed he did. She had enough blood on her hand already.

She knew how the Skiratas loved to celebrate a mission accomplished, but there was none of that aboard the Bottom Line. Everyone satisfied by the successful hunt, but it was a joyless satisfaction. They all looked at Marin with respect in their eyes, and she found that respect revolting.

There were two exceptions. After parking the X-wing next to the Bottom Line, Tamar went into town with Mekr to help scrounge up repair parts. Her mother was avoiding her, but Marin didn't mind. She didn't know what she'd say to her.

She didn't know what to say to Jovar either, but after she'd gotten her insides properly stitched and a bacta patch on her waist to heal the cut skin, the old Mandalorian came to see her. She'd just finished changing in a plain white jumpsuit that felt mercifully light after the beskar'gam she'd taken into the fight. Jovar rapped knuckled on the door. She turned, saw him in the threshold, and still didn't' know what to say.

It seemed he didn't either, not at first. Then he remembered. "I figure you'll be leaving soon."

"Yeah. I promised my dad I'd meet him on Ossus."

"Your buir, you tell him what you were doing?"

"What do you think?"

"Figured." The old man looked at his feet, uncharacteristically awkward. "Are you going to take Ninet's armor when you go?"

She never wanted to wear it again, but beneath initial disgust Marin knew it was a valuable tool, and more importantly her last memento of a woman she'd loved like a sister. If she left the armor here the other Skiratas would see it as a sign of disrespect to Ninet. Maybe it would be.

"I, um… I guess I'll take it."

Jovar nodded approvingly, but her discomfort was plain. "So I have to ask. You don't have to answer."

She nodded him to go ahead.

"When you fought Auchs… Did you do like I told you?"

"I tried. I really did. But I couldn't."

"You've been trained in all that. It must have come on instinct."

"No. I mean, yes, but… He almost got me. So I had to fight back, and I used whatever I had in me."

"Ah. Not the kind of tool the Jedi taught you to use, then."

"No. I never want to feel like that again. I felt…" She lowered her head in shame. "It was like you said. There was too much power in it. The wrong kind of power."

After a short silence Jovar said, "Your gear's in the main cargo room. Packed and ready."

"Thanks."

He hesitated, uncertain how to say goodbye. In the end he just nodded and slipped out of the room. Marin took her time, gathered her things, and went down to the hold. Ninet's armor was there, and the helmet Jovar had provided her. She looked down at that T-visor mask and decided to leave that, at least, behind. It wasn't Ninet's and it wasn't for her. She'd never be a Mandalorian. She didn't want to and never had, though she'd enjoyed sometimes playing as one when she thought there'd never be a cost.

The question was whether she still wanted to be a Jedi. She'd have consider that long and hard. She'd have to talk all this over with her father. It would be an awful conversation but she couldn't hide this from him.

She took the package of Ninet's armor and carried it out of the ship. Her battered red-and-black X-wing looked the same as ever, which was a small comfort. She popped the cockpit, climbed inside, and put the armor in the storage compartment. Then she noticed the flashes on her comm signal, denoting messages received.

There were two, almost identical, though her father's words and tone were more urgent in the second. In both he explained that her grandmother was dying, and that everyone in the family was coming to Zonama Sekot as soon as possible.

When she first heard it Marin felt hollow, emptied even of regret. For all her life Jaina Solo had been many things: a loving grandmother, a stern mentor, an example of Jedi power and fortitude that inspired and intimidated at the same time. All of those were about to be erased, and when they were gone they'd take some of Marin with them.

And as her grandmother lay dying, Marin had been on the far side of the galaxy, betraying the Jedi values Jaina Solo embodied.

With that thought all the regret came flooding back, but Marin knew she needed to get moving. It was a long trip to Zonama Sekot, maybe too long to make it in time, but she had to try. And on that long solo flight there'd be plenty of hours to suffer herself alone.

She dropped out of her cockpit and jogged back to the Bottom Line to get food supplies for the trip. She stopped when she saw her mother halfway up the landing ramp. Tamar froze too.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Marin swallowed. "I got a message from Dad. Grandma's dying. I need to go to her."

Tamar stepped off the ramp. "How much time does she have?"

"I don't know. She's on Zonama Sekot."

Tamar winced. She knew it was a long shot and she knew Marin had to try. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could come with you. Your grandmother… I owe her more than I can say. Tell her that, if you can."

For a short time Jaina had been a second mother; even before they'd met, even before Tamar had existed, Jaina had impact her life by opening her grandfather Venku to the Force. Marin understood all that, so she nodded and said, "I'll try."

"If you can't… tell Arlen."

"Talk to him yourself. He'd like that."

"I know," Tamar smiled sadly. "I'll call him."

"You should." Marin stepped toward the ramp but stopped in front of her mother. Their eyes met; they knew there was so much more that needed to be said but no time. A guilty part of Marin was relieved.

Tamar bent forward and kissed her on the forehead. "Get what you need and go."

Marin stepped around her and hurried up the ramp. She knew her last chance to see her grandmother was already gone, but she had to try. She'd already failed too much.