Author's Note: The editors of the Star Wars books do a bang up job of interspersing story threads. For this medium, story threads are published all together. The story threads, happen, basically, concurrently.

Part Eleven

Dawn One, Vader Plains, Sorran, Beth, Kaleb

Kaleb ran and as he ran he felt joy. Fear seemed a distant abstract concept like seven dimensional fractals. The stripped down LAV four meters back, the Troopers inside, all seen like a holo he had seen a thousand times before. Kaleb's bare feet kicked up the dust, the mag lev fanned it out, making the trail wider, higher.

Like they were underwater, he heard the mean shouting over the wind behind him. The LAV driver gunned the accelerator and pulled beside him. Kaleb turned his head and smiled. They were dressed the same as him, the short sleeve black spider silk togs, no sashes.

The LAV didn't look like its old self. All the computers and panels and armor had been stripped down to make it more useful as a cargo carrier, little more than a platform, two seats and roll bar and a forward windbreak. Command cars were hardly useful on Dawn One. The handmade man catcher, a lasso drooping from a stick, drew up behind him.

The four troopers adjusted positions. On the pole, one on the makeshift capstan stack welded to the floor, one driving, co-pilot for navigator and sensors. " I want to talk with him first!" Secundus switched sides with the cop pilot.

Kaleb spared a moment. "Hey, Corporal!"

"Gotta bring you in, kid. It's for you own good."

"You guys get off my land and we'll talk."

"Emperor's name. He's not even breathing hard. We don't want to hurt you."

"I don't want to hurt you, yet. This is my plain now, all of it! Leave. Where's Beth?"

"I don't know."

"Liar!" Kaleb jumped and lazily backflipped, catching the wind like the taught him for HALO drops. The LAV had been matching his speed so when it hit the brakes, it found Kaleb aft. It was still decelerating when Kaleb grabbed it from behind then it stopped like was dragging an anchor.

The Troopers were maneuvering, unsecured, so when the LAV jerked to a halt, they went flying. Only the co-pilot, with the yoke was spared from a tumble in the sod, if one could call a broken nose "spared."

In the distance, he saw a cluster of people, just where he'd knew there be. "The Commodore will be there."

The grain Echidna and her daughters had planted was just sprouting as high as a finger, like bunches of yellow-green sea urchins.

DA-42 Marching

Marching has long outlive its' usefulness on the battlefield. So wahey spend precious training time doing it? It instils esprit d' corps and makes mom proud parade day. Most importantly, it gets troops used to obeying commands without thinking.

The Rolling Plains of Vader or Vader Plains were supposed to be the most fruitful of all the plains on New Dawn. Echidna's bank of finches, meadowlarks, and Terminus colony of bees had flourished. The wind, from the west, was freshening. Sorran spared a moment, closed his eyes and inhaled "Yes. It's even a little damp. It does feel like spring."

"Sorry, Commodore. You have our loyalty. You know we respect you. But this is Trooper business. We take care of our own."

"And you have my respect, as I have shown. But Kaleb Underhill is Trooper business no longer. As I have explained in the holo, he has Midichorians Madness.

You decided to continue, so I came myself to impress on you how important it is that you stop this effort. You need to see something. It's classified but on my own authority, I breached it." He placed a display holo on the ground. "You may have known the last person diagnosed with this malady, Kir Kanos."

The Troopers mutter and shuffled uneasily.

"I place the facts before you. This is an eyes-only recording we have of Kanos at the Battle of Pheada. In the span of under two hours, he personally killed one and twenty four well equipped Stormtroopers. Real Stormtroopers, not newbs or militia. True, he was Crimson Guard trained, but look at the speed. I'll slow it down. Note he moved his double-katana's blades to deflect the bolt BEFORE that Trooper triggers his E-11. That's not training that is Midichorians prescience. They can see into the near future. Underhill was born them and WE trained him.

"Makes sense. There were only ever the Emperor and his apprentice, so where did all the born Jedi go to?" The Centurian muttered. "I thought…hoped they just stopped being born. Foolish hope, neh? Damn Jedi."

"Centurion. I know you always do your duty. And these are the bravest men on any planet." Sorran returned the holo to normal but he did not turn it off. Kir Kanos cut through the Troopers like a red ship's bow cut through the waves. I beg you, consider the cost. He doesn't have any formal arms, yet, but if you out there with your glaives, and force pikes and blasters, he will.

Sorry, sir just before you arrived we had word. The LAV is on its way, so you better return to your vehicle and move aside."

"LAV?"

The Centurion pointed off in the diastase to the approaching dust cloud. "Yeah, they were herding him here, to the little valley between those two hillocks, just there, then we planned to use force pikes to contain and stun him. And here they come. But we'll mind what you say and keep our distance. Come on boys."

The Troopers were dressed in boots, togs and equipment belts, no armor. They walked to the mouth of the diminutive valley, the ambush point and lined up on one side to avoid friendly cross fire.

The dust cloud did turn to the two hillocks. The portside hill, to Sorran's left, blocked his view.

Sorran returned to his new speeder and took off his gun and knife blade. "Land. I am out of practice with terrain. Nothing space and corridor, most of my life."

Then the dust cloud stopped, and dissipated in the wind. The hillocks, so close, blocked their view. "They stopped. Go see what happened."

"Must have lost him."

"And if I am out of practice, so are they. Wait! Sorran used his throat mike. "Scatter!"

Despite their intentions, the Stormtroopers obeyed as reflex and did exactly that.

Sorran, thirty feet away had a better perspective as the saw the flat hunk of metal soar over the right hillock, flat, powerplant of front caused the nose to dip and it crashed right where the ambush had been.

The Troopers were already up. But no attack came. The humming LAV, nose in the dirt, surrounded by the dust cloud it made, was empty. On the bottom was painted "GET OUT!"

"Please let that be paint."

They found Secundus and the other three Troopers on the other side of the hillock, worse for the wear.

"We taught him too well. He waited until our hands were loose and then he jumped us." Mott handed his comrade a bag of ice rescued from the cooler. "Centurion. We clocked him at 72 kph and he wasn't even breathing hard. The boy's inhuman! If we are alive it's because he wants us alive."

"Or he's afraid we'll just strike from orbit and call the homestead a wash.

"That would be a shame for two reasons. He served well and with distinction."

"We stood up for his gauntlet at his wedding."

"Well, Commodore?"

"Well what Centurion?"

"Well, sir you never present a problem with offering a solution."

"Humph. You know we well. Yes, I have a solution to offer one that could save Mess-One's life and spare our brothers in white. We use Echidna's and her childrens' Dark Troopers."

How many?

"All of them. I won't spare a one, just like I would not spare a million million droids to rescue any of you!"

DA-42 Dark Troopers

Like I said, the Emperor got real cranky with age. He grew impatient with normal living beings. More and more he sought solace in insane genetically modified warbeasts and mindless kill-droids; things that acted the way he wanted. On one end of the spectrum, rage fueled monsters, on the other cold killing machines. Quite the dichotomy.

Top of the list of kill droids were the Darktroopers, Phase I, Phase 2 and Phase 3 and finally 3.5 a.k.a. Dancer Troopers.

3.5's looked like tall, slim, Stormtroopers but black, not white and with a droid inside, not a clone, though humans could be inside the armor instead of the droid.

In battle, 3''s carried dual SE-14c blaster pistols for ambidextrous targeting or a grenade launcher. No weapons were installed in the suit itself. The space was used for dexterity devices and processing speed.

3's weren't programmed they were educated; learning and downloading experience to a central memory core upon destruction. Battle data was downloaded into the new droids. Hence, these droids became linearly harder to destroy with each wave, they learned from mistakes.

The limitations of the 3's were obvious. They just sat around, taking up space until they attacked. Why not put them to use?

Like the Spacetroopers Mark II's the Dark Trooper Phase Threes point fives, were stripped of armor, slimmed down for gracile function, suitable for shipboard operations and damage control, upgrades in power, speed and sensors to the standard battlesuit With a central processing core streaming orders, the 3.5's could take the place of a reactor systems repair specialist one day, then an armament loader another. Of course, the central broadcasting system was vulnerable to jamming and in the heat of battle processing speed was fatally lowered. The last thing a Star Destroyer needs is a DOS to its turbolaser crews. But for day to day menial operations, the 3.5's performed flawlessly, without the drain of food or rest. So one can see why the emperor preferred them to people, again.

Without armor the increase in speed and dexterity was significant, hence, the nickname for the 3.5's "Dancertroopers."

Kaleb found the boots, even though they fit, confining, The LAV's electrobinoculars were useful.

Across the horizon, at extreme ranged, the curvature of Dawn, there appeared a line little black dots. He zoomed in. "Dark Troopers? Too fast. Dancer Troopers. Pulling out all the stops? That's a mistake. I'll just go around." He turned left and the line of black dots continued, left and left, until he completed 360's degrees.

"And the solution for ambush? Pick a direction and attack. South. There was a more water that way."

As he closed, he discerned more, "It not just a line of dark Troopers, but rows. No weapon belts of any kind were evident. "Disarmed? How sweet." He looked back, the Dancer Troopers behind him had picked up speed. "They don't know high I can jump." Kaleb charged the Dancer Troopers facing him simply marched. "Giving their comrades time to catch up. Central command? Sorran or Echidna? Doesn't matter." Joyfully, Kaleb leapt.

DA-42 Droids and the Force

Rock, Lightsaber, Envelope

It's the Jedi weakness and their strength. Droids are glorified rocks. And does any Jedi bother to check the rocks he/she/neutral walks upon?

But once detected, the metal of the droid is vulnerable to lightsabers and the force. Then it becomes a numbers game. Hence the child's decider, 'rock, saber, envelope.'"

Kaleb jumped and he felt a tingle in the back of his head. The Dancer Troopers were aligned not in lines, nor rows not even phalanxes but battalions as far as his eye could see. The entire plains were black and sandy brown with the Dancer Troopers and the dust their running feet kicked up. Glistering black on tan. "Obsidian earth moving. I dreamed this!"

It was like they were four nest of black formican, the transfigured Myrmidons of Massasi legend, and he was a sugarcube.

Then a Dancer Trooper, near a thousand kilos slammed into him like a racket into a shuttlecock, killing his forward inertia.

"They know I can jump!" Then the electric shock hit. Kaleb felt his muscles contract. The Dark Trooper went limp but that did not stop Kaleb from ripping its arms off in wrath.

Then another, then another, they hit him even as he as he fell. Kaleb practiced his zero g unarmed combat on them. Even when he didn't hit him, that jolted him, one right after the other. They didn't defend themselves. "They are just her to electrocute me! They are burning out their power packs!"

Sometimes, he found himself on the ground, smashing, using bit of other's to smash. The challenge was not smashing but climbing, climbing atop, to get the freedom to smash some more, as the voltage cause one limp to spasm after another.

"Blue sky! Finally!" Kaleb looked down. He was about twenty feet above the plan, in the distance, as far as his eyes could see, an ocean of obsidian black metal moved to him. In waves.

Scrambling up the scree of shattered and burned out comrades the Dancer Troopers, an imitation of fearlessness, to be destroyed by the single being to grappling with Kaleb giving their last ampule of energy to his defeat.

Sorran and the Centurion watched the pile grow. "By the Emperor's name? And you programmed the Dark Troopers to use the entire power packs shock him?"

"Yes."

"We are lucky to be alive. The pile is twenty meters high!"

"It won't be the Dancer Troopers that defeat him. They are there just to wear the Midi's down, allow him to see reason."

Kaleb was grateful for the lights of the shuttle. "I don't need the lights but it lets you see how your droids are useless."

Dawn. Kaleb lay atop the wreckage of four legions of Dark Troopers. "I feel good. Tired but good."

"Kaleb?"

"Beth?" Kaleb looked down. There she was, looking just like the last time he left her, concern etched on her young face. "Don't worry. They'll be gone soon."

"I don't want land. I just want YOU BACK!"

"Don't cry!" He crawled/scrambled/fell to her. "I don't want ever to see you cry."

"Oh Beth!" Kaleb collapsed into her arms. "I missed you so much!"

Beth, holding his head with open palms, kissed his face all over. "Come back to me, Kaleb. Come home. Come home!"

'Yeah, okay anything. Oh, I'm so sorry…"

Through the elctrobinoculars, the Centurion and he Commodore watched.

"Have to hand to you, Commodore. I voted for hitting him from orbit, how did you know?"

"I took inspiration from the First Story. The Wild Man tamed by the priestess. A faith that Love is stronger than the thrice-damned Force."

Dawn One, Homestead One, Sorran, Kaleb, Beth, Utep, Wight

"I hate the Force." Kaleb sulked. Beth hugged him close

"I understand."

"I want it gone. Can I get a blood transfusion, filter them out?"

"Even if we miss one, they come back."

"I see. What choice do I have? Suicide?"

"Now. Please send them in." Three Jedi entered. One tall and thin, a stoutish Twi'lek and a bearded middle aged man. "These are Jedi Nights, Utep and Wight and Grandmaster Luke Skywalker.

"Luke Skywalker!"

"Full circle, young Kaleb. Terminus kept these Jedi asleep. Now Terminus asked us to cure you."

"Only because we were asleep for so long do we have this knowledge."

"The Force works in mysterious ways."

"Indeed. By doing good for others, we learn to forgive ourselves."

"I feel your pain, young one." Utep was sad.

"I do too." Wight winced. "We will call your Midichorians forth, they will leave you for their new host."

"New host? Who?"

Luke coughed. "That would be me. The intent is my Midi's teach yours how to…behave. I couldn't ask anyone else. If I have too, Wight and Utep will help me disgorge them, but that would be a shame."

"Grandmaster." Mrs. Sorran looked at the scanner. We better hurry. He's regaining."

"Cuff me. Please."

Secundus stepped forward and performed the act of a comrade, clamping wrists and ankle to the durasteel prison chair. "Secured. Or as secure a guy who throw and LAV a hundred feet can be."

The Jedi composed themselves. "Ready."

Utep sang. It was a sad song. Sorran thought he could feel hearth and home and all the people he loved, smell his grandmother's stew on the stove, his dog, wet from a bath.

Kaleb shivered and shook. It reminded Sorran of man freezing to death. Indeed, he observed the young Trooper's nails turn blue.

The Midichorians, like glitter in gelatins mixed with blood vomited forth from Kaleb's mouth, nose and tear ducts. Wight channeled the viscous spew into a shaped long a long balloon and put it to the Grandmaster's face.

Luke stiffened like a board, absorbing, swallowing it all. Sorran wonder how he could hold his breath so long. Not with a bang but a whimper, Kaleb's it was over.

"Grandmaster?" Utep and Wight were concerned.

"I feel…huh! I think they were as worried for Kaleb as we were. They were confused. They didn't know what your wanted."

"I didn't know what I wanted either."

"And that's why the Jedi spend so much time in reflection. Huh. I was hoping to learn something.

The Midi's accept it's for the best. Kaleb, if it's any consolation, your Midi's feel…repentant is think is the word. They real like you and Beth. They are going to miss watching you raise your son."

"A son?"

"Let's leave him rest. He lost a lot of caloric energy. And now that the Jedi-bugs are not holding him up, he'll need rest and rehabilitation, normally." Mrs. Sorran shooed the people out.

"The Abbey?" asked Luke.

"You Jedi don't beat around the bush."

"The Force is always in motion."

"A hundred acres. Where would you like? We have a whole planet."

Luke turned to Utep and Wight. "Input."

"A snowcapped mountain, like my home on Alderaan."

Sorran kept a Sabbac face.

"The desert."

"Both good places for contemplation but a bit at the ends of the spectrum."

"If I may. There is a place. Paint Brush Mountain. It was one of few remaining original biomes of New Dawn. The desert and height hedged Vongiforming. It has the most interesting meadow at the crest, flower, like artist brushes dipped in many hues of paints."

"Sounds good. Let's check it out."

"It's on the other side of the planet from Homestead One."

"Even better. We can stay out of each other's way easier that way. The trip can give us time to work out our compacts finer details."

DA-42 DDC Defender

So, Alderaan is a peaceful planet? Then why was Princess Leia first captured wielding a dueling blaster?

The old expression, "Alderaanians love fighting but hate war' comes to the fore.

The culture of the "honor duel" begins in back when Alderaanian kings, rather than go to the time and expense of war, sent a kingdom's champions in into the jousting field to fight the other. There were rules and honor and even if one lost ,the foregoing of the usual pillaging meant one's major trading partner was still intact. And when they won… you get the idea.

Land traded hands, justice was served, insults avenged and wholesale slaughter averted.

Don't get the idea there was anything genteel about it. The Don's and Emir's champions were duelists of the first water, each killing more men than death pox for the honor of becoming the king's champion.

The DDL-Defender marketed to a modern upper class that needed a weapon even newbs could use and maintain. And since killing meant a new duel, wounded more than killed.

In regulatory circles, the DDC Defender is called a 'sporting blaster.' Wink. Wink. Honestly, what happens to a rabbit after it's blasted? Not a lot of meat left for the stew pot, is there?

The GA military loved the DDL's simplicity and reliability. The GA bean counters loved the low cost. Small handed species and undercover agents loved the compact size. For the GA, the short barrel version became the standard issue small arm for officers, especially rear echelon.

New Alderaan, Maseta Space Port Infirmary, Phon, Sandra, Myri, The Alcanta-Cordona family.

"Phon you can barely stand!" Sandra wrung her hands.

"That's why I accepted. Make them overconfident. Pretty smart, huh? Whoa."

"Your weapon, nephew. My personal DDC-Defender." Burgos slid the long black weapon out of its holster."

"Thanks. Perfectly cleaned and oiled."

"And calibrated once a week."

"Long barrel version, figures. I'm used to the short from my time in the army. I'd love to get some range time."

"In the shape you are in? Just practice reloading. Each clip contains only one shot. You have three clips. I've seen a few honor duels come down to a reload fumble. Keep loading and unloading clips until you can do it blindfolded. The holster is for the right hand. I'm looking for a left handed one, but I cannot find one I trust. Left handed is very rare here. Still, the battle will begin with pistols drawn, so keeping the pistol clean is most important."

"Got it. Yeah. The holster is important. Thanks. May I ask, what do I call you now?"

"After all we've been through? Uncle."

"Got it , Uncle. One of these days I'll figure out the Alderaanian honorific stuff." Click. Clack. "The bacta sleeves are making my arms movement stiff."

Click. Clack.

"Stick to the wrists then. Quick draw makes no difference. These long barrels were originally for target pistols, made to shoot straight over long distances between targets or barcas. The long barrel and reload between shots makes a quick draw imprudent.

The barrel makes the blast small, but sharp and hot. The heat will cauterize the wound, at least partially. Wounding is most common but without at least the risk of death, honor would not be served."

"And when facing an expert shot?"

"In my life, I've seen my share of honor duels. The winner is usually not who shot first, but who shot best."

"Figures."

Click. Clack.

"Come here. Everyone. I've gotten beaten up by guys like Roehmer my whole life. He's the kind that thinks cheating makes him smarter than other people."

Click. Clack.

"He wouldn't dare."

Click. Clack.

"Tace, Uncle, Tace. You know duels and honor but I've dealt with men like him my whole life. He will. He's been daring his whole life and got away with it. That's what got him to this point. Did anyone beside your family or NA Security know about the attack that left your with a sliced arm and two busted fingers? And you implicating Roehmer?"

"No." Burgos was grim.

"So how he did he gauge to challenge you right at the spaceport? Cheating. But he's not stupid. He challenges you wounded, you accept he silences you. You refuse, honor requires you to be silent about your accusations. I lose, I have to die. Otherwise I'll go to the law."

"I see your reasoning. However, these DDC-17 blasters are designed to wound more than kill, unless someone is a very good shot."

"He always bragged he was rated at 'expert.'" Sandra , hands folded in worry, offered.

"He'll know about my rate with this weapon in the military. Think he knows about my training at the dojo?" Phon looked to Myri.

"Doubtful."

"Good. He's fine on New Alderaan, he'll need to shut me up for good before I get back to the Coruscant and GA Security"

"He won't dare. There will be an investigation regardless." Sandra added.

"He will dare. That just means make it look like an accident. He'll have a second weapon, something sneaky."

"Or a shield?" Myri suggested.

"AND a shield more like."

"That will be risky. Duels are overseen by Brehons. The discovery of a shield or vest would risk disgrace. And we Brehons are not fools."

"Myri, you are my second. He'll have something planned for your too, something to stop you from saving my life. I am not being paranoid. Guys like him, always have a spoiler. Even if I win, he'll have something up his sleeve."

"I will watch for that, And you will win…Phon!"

"Thanks Sandra, that means a lot. Got me my shield maidens."

"The Riverguild will be there."

"Thanks, sir…Uncle. Spread the word. Expect the cheat."

Click. Clack.

"And now you need rest."

"I'll stand guard."

Click. Clack.

Donna Beria was adamant. "We have guards for that, Myri…niece… you need rest too. Guards, test everything. I suspect he may try poison. Poisoners use poison."

Click. Clack.

"My wife is right, as usual. As second you need rest too." Burgos's joined his wife in herding Myri out.

Which left Phon with Sandra.

"Why Phon?"

"He murdered my car."

"Seriously."

"Because guys like him always get away with it. He was…is going to kill you. He has to. Your father? He's the real stumbling block to Roehmer and his mom. Me? Not so much. I die, your papa lives, Roehmer is screwed, you are protected. My ghost is happy."

Click. Clack.

"Phon…"

Click. Clack.

"Sandra, he will never have stop trying to kill you. It screws with his image to the press and himself. Will this honor duel thing shut you up." Her grim look spoke volumes. 'Thought so. But he won't trust to your honor. Why? Because he never has trusted his. He thinks honor is for idiots or people who haven't been pushed far enough yet."

Click. Clack.

Sandra landed a kiss on him to curl his toes. Phon heard the heart rate machine ping like disco. "Kill him. Then come back to me. What?"

"I thought you we going to tell me I was an idiot, call security, I was being a stubborn ronto and beg me to quit."

"Why?" Asked the Alderaanian noblewoman.

New Alderaan, Covertine Field, Myri, Pho, Sandra

As he lay on the grass, Phon decided. "I like this Covertine Field. Surf beyond and nice, cool, fog. The fog feels good, cutting down the swelling."

After a day of medical treatment, Phon had to admit he felt pretty good. Donna de Beria wrapped silk bandages on his raw arms and legs so tight it hurt and that was fine with Phon. But then he laid on the grass and let the fog cool his blood. He felt the swelling, which made his limps feel like sausages before, decrease. "Thank you, Fog. You are my friend I am living in the moment." The Rivermen were gathered behind him. He heard them shuffling, nervous like cattle ready to stampede. He didn't recognize the birdsong.

Click. Clack.

He heard the transport's coming.

Click. Clack.

"Aren't you nervous?" Asked Myri.

"Doing the Steel Bow Sisterhood pre-tournament thing."

"Oh, okay."

Phon didn't tell her it REALLY was because he figured he didn't want to strain is "upright" time and the cold fog felt great on his limb's. "Like the sky's ice pack."

Phon hear the speeders coming. "More than one. Great." They stopped at the other end of the tournament field. There was a general rhubarb and people and equipment disembarked. "He brought more back up than at the spaceport."

"Let's get this over with."

"Crunch of feet in the grass mixed with blown in beach sand. Roehmer is big. And he stepped first. People follow him. Too much cologne. City boys. The Rivermen are better, just bay leaf oil, kelp, rum and smoked oak barrel."

"Ms. Antilles? I believe you know my second?"

"Myri."

"Dotter."

"And there is the cheat, one of them anyway." Thought Phon. "I love the fog. Sea fog like this. Not ground fog."

"Dotter, you have two kids."

"The court took them away, thanks to you. Turns out a 'floating smugglers' den' is not a fit place to raise children."

"It's like facing my past. I'm sorry."

"I bet."

"Myri?" Phon spoke softly. Myri looked down. "I saw it in your head, remember? The court was right. Think about it. Not Holowood. The mercenaries? The bounty hunters? The drugs? The slavery? Gunfights? Bartenders being tipped for 'the mess?' It was a smuggler's den and she was its crimelord. People can't blame you for the consequences of their actions."

Myri looked downrange, snuggled the blaster on her hip and walked sideways, legs not crossing. "You made your choices. I made mine."

Dotter paralleled Myri. "I always wondered who was faster."

"Josie said the pretty much the same thing. How'd that turn out?" Myri saw it, the flicker of fear as Dotter recalled Myri had taken down the toughest sithdog on a ship full of sithdogs. In in a moment flicker was snuffed out.

Burgos was excused from Brehon duty for bias, Another Brehon took his place for the honor duel. The nameless, hooded, sashless, black clad woman accepted a gold coin from dashalls on each of the sides.

"So where is my opponent? Did he run away?"

Phon heard the laughter of about a score of men and women from where the gold sashes should be standing.

"I'm here." Stifling a groan and now glad for the extra support of the Maestra's tight, full wrap of white silk bandages along his arms and legs. Phon rose up out of the fog to the left of Myri. "Been waiting."

Phon was glad for the listen before, like Shihan Winter always advised. "The eyes lie." Roehmer looked good, well dressed, boots polished.

Phon knew he looked smart. Maestra, the consummate theater maven, said she had dressed him for "the killing of a coward." "I can see where Sandra gets it." He was dressed in sleeveless indigo blue hauberk Riverguild sash across his waist, spare pistol clips tucked into the folds. The Maestra mummified his bare arms in bandages of white silk. The bandages on his legs were hidden by billowy indigo pantaloons.

"The bandages will make your wounds look fierce rather than weak." Maestra said.

Phon saw the speculative look on his opponent's backers. They looked like city fold to him, nice, warm jackets against the cold unzipped to show off the gold sashes. "I guess I do look good. Glad I put my faith in the expert in theater costume. It didn't hurt the silk is warm. I'm not hard to find! Whoa. Breathe Phon, breath."

Phon surveyed his side. Myri was ready. She was dressed to kill, literally, her pet DI-44 "Flashbang" on her right side, hip cocked, fighting dagger on the left and two throwing daggers in her boots. "What the hell? I'm about to die anyway." Phon enjoyed a good long gander of the fine figure of a woman. "Looking good, Myri."

"Always."

Phon surveyed this side. Burgos and Donna had faces of stone. "They could be the same people from thousands of years ago, watching this." His blue sashed brethren looked ready to launch into Roehmer's more numerous gold sashes like sharks into tuna. Sandra was dressed more like when Phon seen her at the dojo, with a skirt that was actually split pants and billowy uwagi, but all Riverine Blue, not white, ring hilted fight knives, the kind the sisterhood favored tucked into her indigo sash. She caught his eye, clearly concerned but resolved.

The Brehon powered up the holomarkers, red, yellow, blue concentric rectangles. While the holomarkers were on, only duelists and the Brehon were allowed in the joust, demarked by green light. Seconds, in yellow, just outside the joust, and spectators, lit in blue, therorhettically out of the DDC's lethal range.

The Brehon was not rushed as she carefully inspected and scanned each's pistols and two spare clips, nodding one after the other.

Because he was left handed and Burgos, who's rig he was borrowing, was right handed, Phon had a bit of trouble socketing the pistol in the quick draw holster, with and opening the dust flap in the front. Roehmer smirked. "I hope that makes him overconfident. Wait. He'll think I'm right handed. Would he know that? I bet he looked everything up about me. But how many bios list left handedness?"

The Brehon wound a palm sized silver box, and placed it in the middle of the vault, between the twenty separating the men, a salt cellar. "Salt symbolizes life. Traditional Alderaanian salt cellars were musical. Each one different, randomly selected by the Brehon, so it was fair. At the end of the music, the opponents drew. To shoot before the last note was struck branded the shooter a coward, which was worse than death, suicide the only escape." She lifted the box's lid and set the music going.

Roehmer smiled. "He must know the tune. And he's letting me know he knows it. What a jerk." Roehmer drew and took and standard A-stance he was taught in the army.

Phon looked down at his holster and was about to draw and pass his pistol to his left hand, when a thought occurred to him. Hm. I could choose to shoot second. These blasters usually don't kill at first shot. So he wounds me and he still has two shots. Then what? Does he get a second shot? I better play this like he does. Damn! Good thing Sensei had me practice with my off-hand…but suppose I use my off-hand first?

Phon stood tall and took a very old fashioned stance, the side facing Blade Stance. With his right hand he drew the pistol, held it up and lowered it along his line of sight.

Phon was a little concerned to see Myri and her counterpart square off. "Dotter's got the same blaster Lando uses, SE-14r, the one with a huge reputation for pain. What are the rules for seconds? I don't think anyone told me. Sneaky of Roehmer bringing Dotter her to get inside Myri's head. He's not done with cheating. I just know it."

"Remembering everything Winter, Myri and Burgos taught me is only way I am getting out of this alive." He waited. Not because he was cool, but because his body told him he needed to conserve is strength. The cellar pinged slower, winding down. "So he knows the tune, but not the winding. Clever. Fair. Maybe even knowing the tune is a disadvantage due to anticipation.

"Odd. The Blade Stance, is out of date." Roehmer thought. "More suited to that recoilless laser of his than the recoil of a blaster. The Blade Stance does offered me a smaller profile. Kyle too. It's won't matter. I've hit tens at double the range. I cannot say this won't feel good."

Roehmer took a break from is stance and posed with the barrel next to his face. "I am going to kill you."

"And there it is the dream, with Sandra. Aw, hell. He is going to kill me. I'll miss Myri. And yeah. I'll miss Sandra too. Love sucks. I killed forty two pirates two days ago, you? You can kill me. Ancestors! But, he can't make me a coward!"

Phon felt sad. "And so it all boils down to this. The face I've seen since childhood; the face of the cheater, the liar, the 'I know something you don't now' arrogance. I worked through a club foot, hard work all my life, nearly dying in a war where I never saw my enemy, the dojo, all to face down a man who has had every advantage. All the star destroyers, the senate, justice, plays out on the field of honor with two men with blasters. A cheater versus a man who cannot let that stand." Phon entered the Shihan's touted state of awareness, and let the music play over him. "Wow Shihan was right. This really does take the edge off the fear. Don't have to pee so much now."

The salt cellar wound down. The little silver tines hit little silver pins, slower and slower, one slow note after another…

Phon raised his pistol, elbow bent in a high "L" then carefully lowered and left his pistol high, to cover his face.

And the notes…no more.

"Now!"

Neither Roehmer nor Phon were faster than Dotter or, especially Myri. A flashbang exploded in Dotter's chest and that made Roehmer flinch.

The smoke cleared. Eric looked downrange. "Be dead. I had him. I had him!"

Phon's right arm was limp, bleeding from a gouge that ran down his tri-cep to his scapula. But he was alive.

"Damnit!" Keeping one eye on Phon, Roehmer reached and reached for a spare clip in the folds of his gold sash.

Phon picked up his blaster.

Eric recognized it then. The ease of a picking up a pistol in a dominant hand. "You used his arm as a shield? Bravo." Roehmer looked down at the handle and loaded a fresh clip. Clack. "Not enough, fool." Crouched, on his toes, Roehmer whirled , looked up, stared down the barrel of Phon's DDC-17 and froze. His opponent was twenty paces away but it felt like only one.

His training told him Phon, left hand blade stance, had him square in his sights.

"I'm sorry. You left me no choice."

"PLE…"

Phon shot Roehmer clean through the forehead.

Myri and Phon walked towards their opponents. Daughter was clearly dead, a smoking hole in her chest. Myri kicked Dotter's blaster aside.

Roehmer's blaster was just off his right hand, Phon imitated Myri and kicked it away too.

"That was anticlimactic." Myri quipped.

"Maybe for you. Nice draw."

"I knew I was going to win. Uncle Han's quickdraw rig, tweaked over decades by one of the galaxy's longest lived scoundrel, made all the difference. All she ever cared about was gun, itself, being fast and deadly. Dotter always dismissed the finer details."

"I'm sorry. I thought sure he'd cheat."

"Even a blind nerf finds an acorn once in a while. Come on."

"Phon? Your bandages!"

Phon's saw his blood welling. His shoulder was gushing. "That's not right. It should be mostly cauterized." His legal eye was reflexively drawn to the judge, the Brehon was still standing there, waving. "Wait. What's wrong? What happening?"

The tournament field went darker. "Whatever it is, it's not good." Phon. His held the torn bandage to his shoulder "Blaster burns should not pulsed blood." His he held his left hand over the hole and saw blood pool then ooze of his left arm's wraps. "What the Sith?" Phon limbs lost strength, dropped and fog temporarily clouding his vision. He saw blue sashes streaming by and leaping over him.

Phon saw his bandages were soaked in red, the blood pooling rapidly. "Damnit! Not again."

Blood pressure falling, Phon looked to the woman in black. It was the Brehon, and it wasn't, but he knew her name. "Brehon Morrigan? Is it over? Can I lay down know?"

"Stop being selfish, Claudius Phon Thule. You have two good women who love you. They are anchoring you. You still need to fight, son of the House of Thole, for their sake. Your time is not yet."

"It's hurts Brehon! Life hurts down here!"

"Of course, son of Thole. Love is life. And life is pain."

"You keep saying my name!"

"And why is that?"

New Alderaan, Maseta Space Port Infirmary, Phon, Sandra, Myri, The Alcanta-Cordona family.

"Any more time in this place, I'll be paying rent."

"Phon! Thank the Force!" Sandra and Myri rushed to his side.

"What happened? I thought my clever ruse to use my arm as armor for my head worked."

Myri nodded to Sandra. "Roehmer had what you called a 'spoiler.' He had what is called sabredart gun. It injected the medical blood thinner, warpherpfarperin into you blood, causing your wounds to open terribly. Only the medicine still in your bloodstream and my mother's bandages slowed the reaction. And when you were wounded…"

"I didn't even feel it."

"My student there put a throwing dagger into the spoiler's chest before he could shoot a second time. He's alive and in custody. Tell him how you spotted him."

"It was cold and foggy. Everyone was wearing their cloaks close. But he has his over his right arm."

"Hm. Smart. Smarter than me. I totally missed that."

"That was because Roehmer brought Dotter."

"Oh, Claudius! I'm sorry, I didn't see it sooner, Claudius." Sobbed Sandra.

"You got 'im though right?"

"Yes."

"Then we are cool. I second shot would have cooked my nerf sure. Wait! Hey. Hey. I'm not dying am I?"

"Maybe."

"Crap. Wait. Can't be. Brehon Morrigan sent me back. I'm. cold."

"Who?" Sandra's voice trembled.

"Brehon Morrigan. The judge. She said two women who loved me wanted me back. Are my mom and sister here?"

It was Sandra's family's vacation villa on the Sunny Coast and Phon was on a chaise, recovering, his scars healing.

Phon's new cousins regaled him, laughing, with tales of beating that Phon was sure would land the gold sashes in the hospital or at least urinating blood for two weeks and laughing about it.

It was with no small relief when Sandra arrived to shoo the "cousins" away. "It is his sleep time. Go. Go!"

"Thanks Sandra. I can always count on you and Myri to defend me."

"Defend? When you rose out the fog, to avenge me, defend ME… You didn't see all the gold sashes flinch or my family respond in awe and admiration, And then then…so calm in the Blade Stance…" she stopped at a loss for words.

"I was terrified."

"But not a coward. What were you thinking of, when you shot the man who…raped me?"

"I wasn't going to…permit him to get away with it."

"Is that all?"

"Until I get better and all the blood in me is real and not synthpathics…yeah…pretty much."

"You know that's not true. I know that that's not true. You were thinking of me and how much you love me. You are right. I can't toggle this feeling on and off, Phon, any more that you can."

"I am dating Myri."

"Are you engaged, exclusive?"

"We never got around to that, exactly."

"You look cold, lying there, Phon. Let me warm you."

"Sandra…"

"Move over. Carefully!" She lifted up the shoat wool blanket and snuggled in.

"I am warmer." On his chaise, looking over the warm sea, twining in the sun, Sandra scented with mimosa oil. "I have to admit it is good to be this warm for once."

"It is good." Sandra tucked her head under his chin. She kissed him under the chin. No reaction. She kissed again. Still no reaction. "I am not used to this." She sat up. The man was sound asleep. "When will we get a break? Ah. Not soon. Sleep. We have a lot of work to do soon. The Senate called. It's your old friends, Terminus. Yes, sleep for now. You earned it, my love. Meanwhile, I'll keep you safe and warm." Careful of his bandaged arms and legs, Sandra burrowed in for her own nap.

World Rejuvenator Chiron, in near orbit of the yellow sun of Coruscant System: Lando, Sorran, Sandra, Myri, Special Senate Committee and the Third Fleet

Dust suits please, senators, Mr. Chairman. The World Rejuvenators clean everything down to the microbe and we don't wasn't any contaminants and sadly, Coruscant still has Vongiforms and we don't want to contaminate the WR."

"Cheap shot."

"Centaur, made each suit for every Being especially."

"Don't be cute."

"Hey. Not bad. Even the rebreather fits."

"My tailor could not do better."

"Creepy."

"After we repair the Alliance, we hope to retired the WR's as simple recycling everything and powerplants. You'll never have to worry about waste disposal or power again. Or natural disasters. A WR can produce emergency shelters, clean water, etc. in hours."

"And e-TIES." Myri interjected. "And can slap a turbolaser on your hull anything it wants.

"Each WR is programmed not to manufacture dedicated weapons or parts for weapons or weapons itself."

"So the tractor beams don't count as weapons systems now? And as for the programming, I suppose. We just have your word for that?

"That's why we invited GA Intelligence Investigators on board."

"Phfft."

Senate Hall, Phon's Inner Office, Sorran, Phon

After a long, threatening look, Myri left the inner office. Thank you for meeting me alone, Senator. I always sensed we saw eye-to-eye in the Admiralty courts."

"Get on with it."

"I'll be blunt. We appreciate your open mindedness to our petition in the Senate."

"It's not for you, it for the refugees."

"So how can we can get the senate's support for admission for Dawn One and operating permits for our World Rejuvenators?"

"It won't do you any good. Senator Alcanta will not budge and she's leading the Anti-Remnant faction. The that little coalition the Hutt gathered doesn't have the votes.

"Our analysis shows that you are the keystone. You may not know it, but everyone is looking to you. You are the rare senator who sees things form all perspectives. On the one hand, what the Empire did to the august Corellian House of Thole' was cowardly and despicable. You have the same reason to hate us as many others.

On the other, you are in on the committee dedicated to settling refuges and reclamation. You, and the late senator's, tireless labors on behalf of the refugees is well known. For those people Empire is long gone. They hate the Vong more.

Back home, your Corellia doesn't need our WR's but the planets around her do. Many of her former trading partner and colony world's economies are depressed. Corellia also hosts the greatest number of refugee camps.

With your credibility on either side of the issue, we discern, you are the tipping point. How you go, others will follow.

"You flatter me. That silly tour you arranged only steeled the senators' resolve, the Chairman's resolve, even my military analyst is more hostile and she's worked with Reconciled before. It would futile."

"Suppose we finally decided to go through the process of Reconciliation?"

"Who would believe you? These people are not stupid. You would need an advocate from a strong planet in the Senate, and not a hollow chair that would do anything to get one step up in the Rejuvenator's cue."

"Not you?"

"What could you offer Corellia? Nothing."

"Not Corellia, you."

"I thought you knew. Roehmer rolled like that but not me."

"You are getting at something."

"People are afraid of the Devastators. So there would have to be guarantees and not just feel good gestures, like Reconciliation." Phon produced a packet. "Here are my proposals, draw up with the help of my colleagues on the admiralty court and GA military intelligence: open source coding, random inspections, including Dawn, any time, for as long as we want, FOF and Homing beacons installed in every one, a destruct switch installed in every one by GA and you pay for it all. There are other details, logistics and such but those are the foremost of the conditions."

"Agreed. Should I sign it now? The Presidium and the Althing need to ratify but I expect they should."

"All treaties need to be brought home. I still need to bring somethings to my people. Three things. As much as the media like to pity the refugees, the real sentiment is people can't wait to get rid of them. I want them fast tracked."

"Done."

"I want your corporate headquarters built on Corellia. Not Deysum."

"Gladly. The Deysumites are swine. They deserved the oligarchs."

"And your continued gratitude."

Sorran raised an eyebrow. "You'll find us very grateful. And since you asked for more. I will ask."

"Shoot."

"There will be senatorial oversight committee. We want you on it and the WR's Board of Directors."

"You sure?"

"Positive. Like with your little Corellian trick, it will be easier to keep an eye on us that way."

"This is all too easy. And don't give the 'blue sky' malarkey you've been feeling the holos. I'm missing something."

"Aren't we all? Now do you think these safeguards and guarantees will win us the votes in the Senate?"

"I'd be wasting our time otherwise. Yes with some, a good chance with others and definitely not with one.

Coruscant, The Great Hall of the Senate, Lando, Tendra

"How's it shaping up, Honey?"

"Glad you are here. This reminds me of the plains of Malistair or Corellia places where one could hear thunder in the offing, approaching. Only here, the storm is coming from every angle.

"Honey, there is something you should see." Tendra handed him her datapad.

Lando looked. The media's drone camera's soared though the lower deck, the Bottomstreet first accessible to the undercity. For up high, Bottomstreet seemed covered with confetti. Lower and it was packed with bright, even garishly dressed people and all the people held signs, written with finger painted grease, on duraplast, fiberboard, any number of things.

"It's happening all across Coruscant. The middle tiers are afraid."

The signs followed the same format. Name, four letters and date. The four letters in the middle were, K.B.U.V. The standard abbreviation in police reports for "Killed By Unspecified Vongiform."

"What do you think, Tendra?"

"Did you see the looks on those undercity women? I'm a mother myself?"

"Good point."

"Terminus did promise anti-Vongiform scrubbers for Coruscant."

"And made a good point of getting word to the Undercity it appears."

"That's how's it's breaking down on the outside. How about the inside?"

"On the one side, there are the staunch anti-Imperials. They know something is up. But their ranks are depleted. One third have gone over to the side of Terminus and the WR's, hoping to get their planets Terraformed. And the fact all their planets are intact, cuts into their credibility.

"On another side, there are those planets not touched by the war who are in favor of the WR's. They want to see their old trading partners restored and refugees off the land, my own Chamber of Commerce being one. My past ownership and use of a surviving World Devastator as a recycling center for the past ten years did not leave us much choice."

"The fact it ran away to join Terminus could be a warning to everyone."

"Feelings are running high. I doubt they'd listen. And then we have another side, the hundreds representatives, of Vongiformed systems and planets or generally just devastated by the war or devasted in general. I'm not sure who is more desperate, the people left on hostile planets that were once their homes, or refugees stuck in camps on alien worlds waiting to return home. They've seen what the WR's can do on Deysum, Nal Hutta, and especially that Dawn One of theirs and its whetted everyone's appetite."

I've never seen the Senate so agitated. And I can see why. The anti-Imperials, anti-Mundicidals vs. the Vongiformed, wrecked and homeless. Idealists vs. the Desperate. Even my chief of security says it might come to blows. Here we go."

Tendra was especially curious about her friends. Phon was arguing for the WR's and the admission of Dawn into the Alliance and Sandra speaking against.

Phon argued first she judged him very persuasive. He spoke of a laundry list of safeguard and guarantees, the Admiralty and GA Naval Intelligence as co-signers did not hurt.

Sandra stood.

Tendra whispered, "I'd go for pathos. Not arguing them on their own ground. Better than speculating against the GA Military intelligence. Still. She could sound like the WR's New Alderaan's axe to grind, not talking about the consequences." Tendra speculated.

"Sorry, Honey. Sandra's bringing out the big guns."

Sandra stood and proudly declared. "I defer my time to Senator Emeritus of New Alderaan, Leia Organa." Lea dripped her hood and stepped to the front of the New Alderaan platform. Sandra piloted the platform to the center of the hall.

"The Chair recognizes Princess Leia Organa Solo, Governor of New Alderaan."

Leia fixed the room with a basilisk stare. "I can't believe what I am hearing! These are Imperials with weapons of mass destruction."

She was greeted by shouts from the back benches. "Disarmed!"

"Weapons, no more!"

"I repeat, Weapons of Mass Destruction." Lei activated an image. Above her head, filling the auditorium came images of the Battle of Mon Cal. "This World Devastator, with little more than tractor beams is eating one of our Star Destroyers. Thirty-four thousand loyal troops and more, dead. Now they have better tractor beams, thanks to whatever they have.

Whatever safeguards and guarantees you think we build into the system, they will circumvent. And what do they offer? Their word of honor? We know what an Imperial word is worth!

Leia heat went from a firebrand to warmly sympathetic. "I lost my world…

"We've heard that before, Princess!"

"Chestnuts! Chestnuts!"

"And you got a brand new planet!"

"Where's our brand new planet?"

"I repeat, I lost my world. I know how you feel. But you still have yours. You have the time I do not have and this is not the way. The right way." She turned off the battle holo.

"Time. Rebuttal?"

Rotta sat as he piloted the Nal Hutta disk to the floor. "You are on, Commodore. Use the big voice, they like that here."

Sorran stood, smart, unapologetic in his uniform. "And what could we offer, hm? You set us an impossible task! You ask us to undo the past? What could we offer to the past behind us and more forward?"

"Put the past behind us? Are you mad? Put the past behind us?"

"That's it, Commodore, let her lean into it. Did she pick up the hint? And now, if she just takes the bait." Rotta waited..

"What could I do, what could offer you for your forgiveness?"

"Offer? Offer me? You know what you could offer me…you can give me my home back! "

Lando watched the Hutt relax. "Uh-oh. Not good. That's the 'drawn to the inside straight' look on that Hutt."

Leia shook a finger under Sorran's sharp nose. "You and your kind blew up my home planet of Alderaan! A peaceful planet of with weapons and men in your uniform blew it up. You want forgiveness? Give me my Homeworld back!"

"We accept."

"Accept what?"

"Your offer. Terminus gives you back Alderaan." Sorran activated the imager. Leia looked up. Only one planet ever had the distinct swirls of frosted blue green. World Rejuvenators landed and flew away, like apis' on a large blue-green-white flower.

The Senate was so still one could hear a pin drop.

"By the Force! That's Alderaan!"

"Terraformed?"

"Reforged." Sorran zoomed out, reversed the beginning and lapsed the time. Tens of thousands of Rejuvenators zipped in and out. "Things that are exploded are not disintegrated but fragmented. That is a common misconception. We had the Death Stars records of Alderaan's fragmentation. So it was relatively simple matter to assemble it. Alderaan's excellent Science Academy provided the rest. Climate, mountain ranges, even the composition of the core and mantel is within .0001 standard deviation of the originals. It's original orbit, spin, everything. We found much genetic material so the microbial and plant life is exact. The only thing missing is some plant and animal life. If you don't believe me, go there. There is no more asteroid belt or a wandering moon, just the in memorium recorders."

"They rebuilt Alderaan!" Tendra could have swallowed a fly.

Lando looked around. Everyone was having the same reaction of awe. "Straight flush."

"You bastard!" Leia mounted the lips of the platform, ready to jump and attach. Sandra held her back. "You raped them! You raped their memory."

"Now who is living in the past? Or maybe one reborn planet isn't enough? Terminus gifts New Alderaan, not one, not two,…" planets popped up over Sorran's head. "Seven new planets all using New Alderaan as a template to atone for the one. So who is going back on their word, now? You see? She only demanded what she thought we could not give. You now have eight planets princess. Dare you will vote so these people get none?"

"You don't fool me."

"This is not a trick. You forgot what it means to be homeless, we did not!"

Time.

Rotta sailed the disk around the Alderaanian delegation, the long way round, past the Princess. She was cussing like a sailor.

The votes were tallied. Many had changed side since the polls. 75% in favor of the WR's and admission. Lando left the booth, clearly disappointed but Tendra lingered.

Phon was up there, giving the typical thank you and olive branch speech but it was like she was seeing him in a new light. "Nice suit. Wish I could get Lando to dress like that. So well spoken. He belongs up there, it's obvious, strong confident, clear voiced, strident. When did he become a stateman?" Tendra recalled the day she first met him, fresh, but talented, inciteful but young, awkward and earnest freshman interim senator.

"Coming darling?"

"Sorry about the vote, Lando."

"Oh, it just means more work. If Phon was serious about the safeguards, that will help. That's what turned it, the safeguards." He waved her datapad that he still had. "And I suppose it's not all bad."

"We should have him over more often."

"Who? Phon? With Sandra or Myri or both?"

"Just him."

Resolutions

Coruscant, Senator Phon's Inner Office, Phon, Sorran

"Senator, you were quite insistent."

"Polemarch, I wanted to speak with you before you left."

"Something urgent?"

"For me, yes. I have time to think on why Terminus agreed so quickly. I have a theory. Want to hear it?"

"Please." Sorran made himself comfortable in the chair opposite Phon's desk, his now trademark valise on his lap.

"There won't always be work for the WR's. When that happens they settle on worlds, recycling centuries of waste into luxury good and droids for every purpose. The people will soon find them indispensable. All their needs will be taken care of: food, health care, everything. And when the emperor returns, as you have faith he must, he will appear, thanks to the WR's ,as a provider. And he will, once agai, ascend to 'thunderous applause'

"You have, of course, written this all down somewhere."

"More than that. And no, I am not recording this. I think that would be useful, in the long run."

"If any one did believe you, would they care? A life of luxury, in exchange for obedience?"

"Versus freedom and suffering? Thanks to you I finally know what my family motto means. No. I want to make a bet. I have faith people will make the right choice. You have faith people will make the easy choice. I'm just saying let's see who wins."

"That is a wager I will take." Sorran stood and offered his hand and shook it. "bet on."

"Ironically, I don't think you would ever choose a life of ease, Polemarch."

"And you strive to make people's life easier. A pleasure, Senator." Sorran stood to leave.

"A pleasure."

Coruscant, Chairman's Office, Lando, Chief of Intelligence, General Tycho Celchu, Staff meeting

…and the intelligence I'm getting from Flutie Space is not good. They, and I assume the Vong, are retreating from a third force, away from our sector think goodness."

"Chiss?" asked Lando

"I doubt it. Intelligence says the Chiss have been building up defenses on their border, letting the two fight it out. Whoever it is, judging by the signals the new enemy is slowly but surely cornering the Fluties and if they are cornering the Fluties and they went through the Vong held sectors to do it."

"And we are next?"

"That's the thing. It's like they invaded from our space." Tycho scratched his head.

"We don't have any rogue admirals, do we?"

"No."

"Post pickets. Keep us posted. Sad, but it's hard to see a downside to somebody defeating the Vong and Fluties."

New Alderaan, Sandra's Villa on the Sunny Coast, Sandra, Myri, Phon

The word's "we need to talk" sends shivers through most men but the added, "the three of us." Made Phon more afraid than when he stared down the barrel of Roehmer's blaster.

The greeting was tense. Sandra showed Phon and Myri to the garden. The brick in the sun provided a toastiness Phon felt appealing. The tea was silent.

Sandra took a deep breath and let it out. "I have a proposal. Let's get married."

Myri put down her cup. If she was expecting this, she had not told her boyfriend. Her tone was not hostile. "Sandra…

"Hear me out first, please. If I stop I might not start again. I mean all three of us."

"To who? Ow." asked Phon. Myri swatted him.

"We both love, Phon. I like you, you saved my life for pity's sake, more than once. I think we could make it work. Since the destruction, Polyandry is legal on New Alderaan. For genetic diversity, its usually three men and one wife, but you get the idea."

Myri looked to the man she was dating. "Phon?"

"Well, it's odd but not sick like the old books I read or operas where one or both or all or the people in love, (opera) seem to have to die just so monogamy is preserved. And I do love you both. Try to understand. I try to feel bad for loving you both, but I can't. You both are just so extraordinary! What do you think?"

"You kidding? I used to live in a roving smuggler's den, remember? This isn't even close to the most unique living arrangement I've heard of. Besides, I like you, Sandra, you know that. Sounds like another adventure! One condition. I want to live here, in this villa. I love this place! It's so sunny and beautiful and I am so sick of deckplate and recycled air!"

"I would love to have you living here. This place always goes to pot when I am away and I know you'll run a tight ship."

"Great. So, how does this work out. We are Phon's wives?"

"Actually, you two are marrying me. I'm a native. Phon you are courtier and that means you are, by definition, looking to marry up and Myri, sounds like you'll want property rights to the land so… "

"Phon?"

"I'd be an idiot to say 'no.'"

"Yes, you would."

"But I do have something to say, something that seems appropriate. Our story began in the Skyroom with Fado, Fado and now it ends with And they lived happily ever after."