Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of Lucasfilm Ltd, as if any of us didn't already
know that. Anyway, no profit is being made from this work, so I would be very
pleased if no one decided to sue me. Thanks much.

Author's Notes: Well folks, after a bit over two years of writing, it is
finally the end. It's going to feel very strange not working on this story,
since it has been a standard of my life for so long now. I'm definitely going
to be taking a bit of a break from Star Wars fics after this, so don't expect
the second volume of 'The Pillars of Life' to appear too soon after this. In
any case, let me know what you think of the story! Feedback spurs us author
type people into fits of impassioned writing, whether it be positive or negative.
So write, write, write. I can be reached at Doc7dmz@aol.com or Asuka_rocks@naboomail.com.
I would really appreciate the C&C. To everyone that's been following this story
since the beginning, you have my most heartfelt thanks. See you in time for
"A Measure of Virtue." - 12/1/00

STAR WARS: Shattered Dreams
Chapter 15: "Fractured Lives, Shattered Dreams."
by Dave Ziegler

Anakin was the first to move, the first of any of them to respond
to the developing situation. With two fast steps he launched himself into
a defensive position just before where Elle stood with Raynar, then began
to remorselessly cleave the droid's blaster shots. Not late after, Stevens
and DeVries, the two NRI agents who had accompanied the Admiral, fell behind
one of the thick marble columns that lined the corridor's walls and peaked the
muzzles of their own rifles out to offer some defensive fire for the Jedi.

Anakin appreciated the help, he truly did. With his concentration on
making sure Elle did not get hit by a stray bolt, he was unable to effectively
direct any of the them back toward the droids for a kill. He was simply acting
the part of a shield: unmoving and utterly non-offensive.

"Elle," Anakin grunted, throwing another of a multitude of red lancing bolts
wide, "get behind one of the pillars. You should be safe as long as you
stay there."

"What about your mother, Anakin?" she retorted. "I can feel her. We must
get to her quickly. Clear me a path through them and I'll find her."

"That's impossible at the moment, Elle. Now get into some cover!" When
his apprentice failed to make a move toward either of the walls, Anakin risked
a glance over his shoulder and nodded to Raynar. "Take her. I'll manage until
you get back."

Elle's faced screwed up incredulously. "What do you mean 'take her',
Anakin?" She found out all too soon though, as Raynar grabbed the slight
girl by both shoulders and dragged her bodily through the haze of fire and
into one of the column created niches.

Anakin, meanwhile, moved to the opposite wall, where his father and
Chewie lay hunkered behind yet another of the massive gleaming pillars.
He twirled his lightsaber around a burst of shots, then knelt close to them.
"You ready, Dad?" he asked. His father smiled and nodded at the blaster pistol
in his hand.

"If you can give us a clear path, kid, Chewie and I can catch up with
the Admiral and bring him in." Flecks of charred marble and crackling energy
bolts whizzed by their small shelter. Anakin glanced back out into the fray,
and noted the relatively small advance made by the droids. Those two NRI
troopers were doing an excellent job of holding them to a standstill.

"Get ready for your opportunity, Dad." Anakin brought the hilt of his
saber up, and lay his thumb near the activation switch. "And don't worry about
Mom either. I'll get to her once we clean this bunch up."

Han gave him a trusting smile. "I know you will, Anakin." Chewie roared
his agreement. The pair of wookie and pilot then climbed to their haunches and
prepared to spring into a run. "Ready?" Han asked his son.

"Ready," Anakin affirmed. There was a brief moment of understanding
silence between father and son before Anakin leapt from behind the pillar,
ignited his lightsaber, and charged the mass of battle droids.

While his son moved through a blur of whipping orange and red, Han burst
into a run in the other direction, Chewie not lagging far behind.

* * *

Troops piled through the door and into the hangar, their white and blue
Shental uniforms gleaming in the bright overhead lights. They moved with
determined caution, ducking behind available mounds of cover, and always shadowing
one advancing group with another. It was a professionalism born of years of riot
training and direction from ex-military officers. They knew their business, and
from that knowledge created an almost tangible aura of 'in battle' serenity.

Twenty feet into the hangar that serenity was smashed.

Every one of the twenty-five some odd troopers that had moved into the
building stopped dead, not daring to step any closer to the scene that was
unfolding before them. There were four Unidentifieds involved: three female,
one male. Two of them, a red haired girl and a boy, were down. With all the
prominent welts and bruises, the first looked as if she had been put through
the largest bar brawl ever recorded in the history of the universe. As for
the boy, well, none of the security men seemed to eager to speculate on him,
as ripples of blue energy flared up and crackled over his body every few seconds.

And the last two, the last two were what mesmerized them the most.

Most of the security guards here had lived through the rebellion, or
heard the stories of Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader, but none had actually
ever seen a lightsaber used in battle before. For minds so such as those,
the display that was being put on in front of them was nothing short of awe
inspiring. Two young girls wound around one another, striking, blocking,
skipping, and dancing their weapons and bodies through an intricate, yet
primal series of movements that were almost artistic in fashion. For every
lunge the blonde made with her two blades, the brunette had an a equally
smooth and controlled parry with just her single weapon.

They might have stayed like that, in a stupefied daze, if Lieutenant
Graydon hadn't moved to the forefront of his troopers. For a moment, he,
like them, stood transfixed. Graydon, however, being as single minded in
nature as a human sometimes could be, pushed all admiration from his mind
and assessed the situation.

"Right!" he lambasted his troops, shaking them from their admiration.
"We have two wounded here! I want them taken care of and moved to a safer
distance now!" He paused for a moment, and gazed at the intense duel before
him. Several worries and possible decisions seemed to pass over his face as
he watched them, before resignation and understanding took firm hold. "Under
no circumstances are we to interfere in the battle! Understood?" His soldiers
cried out a series of affirmatives. "Then move out!" he loudly prompted.

Graydon returned his eyes to Jaina. No, there was definitely not any
way he or his men would be able to combat this Salanon, not as he was seeing
her now. They did not have the power to compete with such a phenomenon. It
would all be up to Solo.

* * *

Jaina stumbled a bit, but quickly regained her footing and
thrust her blade upward. Gwyn's first strike bounced high and away,
while her second swept in toward Jaina's belly. The young Solo was
ready for it though, and flicked her wrists, twirling her blade back
down toward the floor and locking up Gwynandra's own weapon. Jaina
pushed off, forcing the petit girl a few steps backward, and then retreated
herself.

Sweat glazed the front of her face like a mask, and held her hair
in stringy rivulets. This fight was highly intense. Jaina hadn't felt
herself this tested during a duel in a long while. Of course, all of
those duels had been in sparing sessions. Never had she needed to
wield her blade against another in a fight for her life. Right now,
the most important thing, Jaina realized, was to move off and recollect
herself. She had underestimated the oppressive and unnatural aura that
Gwyn was emanating through the Force, and what it could do against her.

Jaina quickly danced around another two sharp lunges by Gwyn.

The problem was, of course, finding a lapse within which to achieve
this.

* * *

Everything was flying at him, hurtling like rocks tossed about
in a hurricane. The trees, shrubs, grass, and undulating land were
almost a blur, but one point stood out firmly and clearly in Mercer's
vision; it was the wookie.

The animal-like Jedi wasn't far ahead of him, and Mercer was gaining
ground. He was sure his bike was in better condition for such a run, as well
as positive that his significant weight advantage would speed him within
striking distance soon. Once there, he could put an end to this. He
could put an end to the shadow that seemed to hang about Gwyn and distort
her. He could put an end to her worry about this obsessive quest for Jacen
Solo. He could put an end to the childish fears that still welled within
him at the mention of Jedi.

For that opportunity alone he owed Gwyn thanks. In this age, the day
of the New Republic, the Jedi had been reinstated and their ranks began to
again swell. If men like him were to prosper, then they would have to find
ways around these self appointed guardians of justice and their ruthless
blades. And for that to happen he could not harbor any fear of them. For
if it was there, it would signal the end of him. These Jedi, they could smell
it when you were intimidated by them, and they pressed that to their advantage.

Mercer wouldn't give them that opportunity. This was the moment, the moment
where he defined his future. His would be the knife that shaped this path, the
only catalyst needed for a firm and unwavering stroke was the fall of the wookie Jedi.

His swoop raced forward as Mercer cranked the acceleration. The wookie had
just dove into a small ravine between two short hills. If he truly thought that
such a move would prove any kind of impediment to him and his men, then the Jedi
was woefully mistaken. They were each and all experienced, and near expert pilots.
The curve ahead was banking and slow. They could take it with no problem whatsoever.

A quick yet firm wave of his arm signaled the rest of Mercer's men to fall
behind him, then follow into the ravine.

Walls of pale dry earth sprang up on each side of him, their tufts of browning
grass swaying harshly in the wake of his bike. This would be the end, Mercer
could feel it. The wookie was hardly in front of him now. In fact, he was so
close he could actually see the streaming of it's ginger colored hair in the wind.
It felt as if all he had to do was reach out and close his fist upon the wookie's
head, then wait until there was soft yet satisfying squelch.

What he actually heard, however, was something entirely different.

At first, there was a chorus of clipped yet terrified screams. Then, not
a moment later, the distinctly horrifying sound of expanding fireballs erupted
from behind him. Mercer risked a glance backward, and shock widened his eyes.
Everywhere there were animals, long large creatures with enormous hind legs and
thick tails, leaping from the hills and into the ravine. They rained upon his men
and their swoops, catching some and pulling them from their rides, while sending
others careening out of control and into the walls of the ravine.

Mercer turned away from the atrocities just in time to throw his bike out of
the way of one of the falling creatures. He struggled to regain control, but the
swoop bucked towards the near wall of the narrow enclosure. As the brown earth
neared, he realized there was only one choice left to him.

Finding a precarious balance upon the pedals, Mercer stood, then threw himself
off the bike and into a swift tuck and roll. He hit the ground solidly, but was up
in an instant, early enough to witness the impact of his bike and the resulting tangle
of twisted metal that fell to the ground.

There are, however, some things that you can never be fast enough to avoid.

Mercer was caught unawares as the thin but muscular forearm of his attacker
impacted with the side of his face. His head snapped backward, a sharp burning pain
igniting along his check and down through his neck. He hit the ground again, this time
not rising at all quickly.

Struggling, Mercer rolled onto his back, then froze. The animal was a scant two
feet in front of him, staring with its deep grey eyes at his prone form. Moving his arm
ever so slowly, Mercer reached toward his leg and grasped for his blaster.

There was nothing.

Starting to panic, Mercer's eyes darted about the carnage that surrounded him,
before spotting his pistol laying upon the ground near to where he had leapt from the
bike. It was so close, yet so far. Well, there were no two choices about it; he would
have to run for it. It might be his only way of escape. But as Mercer turned his eyes
back toward his foe, he saw the animal's muscles go rigid, readying to spring.

The last thing he ever did was scream, before the jumper sunk its teeth
into the soft flesh of his neck.

* * *

Lowie swung the swoop bike to a stop, forcing a pocket of loose dry
earth into the air beside him. His eyes traced their way back to the mouth
of the ravine, and the heavy smoke and debris that were drifting out of it.
His large mouth curled into something of a frown as a few last screams penetrated
to the outside of the rocky enclosure.

It wasn't supposed to have happened like that. He, Jacen, and Jaina had
merely wanted the jumpers to subdue Gwynandra's thugs, not tear them to pieces.
Nyar had promised them that he still had enough strength to manage that level of
control over such a group of his people. Evidently, something had gone wrong.

Lowie shook his furry head sadly. There wasn't much of anything he could do
to change things now. Everyone inside that ravine was as good as dead. His
friends were not.

Straightening the bike out, Lowie gunned the engine and sailed off back
toward the complex, and Jacen, Jaina, and Tenel Ka.

* * *

Nyar collapsed to the cave floor. He groaned as the rocky protrusions
impaled his aged body in several places, bruising and tearing the flesh. A
few shuddering breaths escaped his lips, making the jumper seem even more infirm
and skeletal than ever before.

He rolled slowly onto his belly, then managed to stare wistfully up at the
rocky ceiling. Was this it? Was this the final time? His people, his tribe,
had finally been able to reject his control, and now all of those men had died.
They had separated themselves from him, he knew it. They would not come back to
the caves now. They had moved beyond him, become a new people unto themselves,
forced to find their way and path in this world.

His influence would no longer be required.

Nyar actually managed a smile at that thought. He would no longer be
needed. After all this time of being the one with the responsibility, the
one forced to mind all of the others, the one forced to continue on and on,
hoping to preserve an ancient legacy. It had been a vain and selfish course
of action, hadn't it? His race and culture had ended when the ancient enemy
had destroyed his home world. These young ones would create for themselves a
new people and culture with time.

It was the way of nature, he knew. His tribe was not to be the dominant
creatures in this time, in this galaxy. They had risen and fallen, and would
rise again. This was the time of the humans, and all the others who made up
the Republic. Nyar grimaced. He could only hope that they did a better job
protecting it against the enemy than his people had. If not, their time of
supremacy would end soon. Very soon.

His eyes drifted lazily shut, and his head sagged to the rocky floor.
Nyar allowed the smile to return to his face. It would be good to finally
get some rest. Yes, it would be good, indeed. He had certainly earned it,
that much was obvious. It was time to let nature take care of its children
without his interference.

It was high time to let nature take care of him.

* * *

The crowd of dignitaries, consulates, attaches, tourists, and plain
workers were surprised, to say the least, when an older man in an admiral's
uniform came flying out of a side corridor and into their midst, shoving past
anything and everything that was in his path. As the people hustled aside, not
really wanting to become one of the forcibly displaced, they raised a few eyebrows
and murmured discontentedly to one another about the continually strange goings on
that took place inside the palace.

Of course, when the rather recognizable hero of the Rebellion, Han Solo, and
his large wookie companion, Chewbacca, came hurtling out of said corridor a few
moments later, raised eyebrows turned into dropping jaws. Captain Solo began to
throw his way through people the same as the Admiral, until the crowd began to
disperse around him, either out of respect or the fact that he was waving his
blaster above his head like a madman.

Having a barreling wookie trailing his every step probably helped matters
also.

"Stop that man!" Han barked, trying to make himself heard above the
rising din of the crowd. He really hadn't expected the admiral to cut down
into the unevacuated areas of the palace. Such a course would surely slow
down the old man as much as him. Of course, Han mused, had he actually been
thinking at all, he would have realized that if the admiral wanted to escape
he would have to reach one of the landing platforms, which were all located at
the outer rings of the palace. Hence the need to run into and through the outer
and unevacuated areas.

Han shook his head tiredly. Maybe the admiral wasn't the only one too old
for this anymore. But he'd be damned if he let the old fool get away from him.

"Stop that man!" Han tried again, this time gesturing with his blaster
toward the fleeing admiral's back. The crowd, which had now mostly fallen away
to each side of the large passageway, turned its collective eyes upon the admiral.
There was dead silence for a few moments, almost as if they were silently debating
among one another whether or not to listen to the man waving the gun.

Finally, a younger fellow dressed in the casual clothes of a tourist stepped
into the free lane they created, and cupped his hands to his mouth. "Captain Solo,
Captain Han Solo," the young man emphasized, "just asked us to help him!"
He pointed toward the admiral who was now trying to fight his way through
the throng that had blocked the nearest exit. "Let's stop that man!"

A great cheer of enthusiasm went up from among the other tourists,
lower level workers, and attendees. The politicians rolled their eyes, and
tried to move farther away from the fracas. "Someone call security!" another
voice yelled out. Meanwhile, the now incited mob that covered the exit
swarmed the struggling admiral and held him at bay.

Han grinned cynically to himself as he and Chewie skidded to a stop
just in front the crowd that held the admiral. *Well, what do you know,*
he thought amusedly. *I can't believe that actually worked.*

The mob pushed Terion forward until he was facing both Han and Chewie.
"Well, Admiral, are you ready to fold yet?" Han asked. "Or do you think you
can keep this charade of a bluff going any longer?"

The older man simply smiled viciously at Han, and nodded his head at
the approaching security guards. "You there, I want these two arrested now!"
The crowd gasped in outrage, and the rather confused guards pointed to Han.

"You want me to arrest Captain Solo, sir? The Chief of State's husband?"

"This very minute!" Terion emphasized. "And anyone in this crowd who
has been aiding him." Much to the Admiral's displeasure though, the threat
did little to hush the crowd or lessen the enthusiasm of the two men who were
currently holding him.

"Not a chance," Han challenged. "The only person who should be getting
arrested here is him, son. The admiral here has been the center of a
mass conspiracy against the Republic." The security guard turned a shade paler.

"A mass conspiracy against the Republic?" he echoed.

"That's right," Han affirmed.

"Ridiculous," Terion snorted. "Listen here, Captain Solo is no
longer a part of the Republic military, and therefore has no authority by
which to order you to do anything. I, however, hold the rank of Admiral in
said military, and you are under obligation by the chain of command to follow
my orders. In other words, boy, arrest the both of them now."

Han stared hard at the security guard, but the man shook his head.
"I'm afraid the Admiral is right, sir. As of this moment, he still has
authority over me and I must follow his orders. Your word is not enough to
cast doubt upon whether or not I can, in good conscience, follow those orders."

"Wait, wait," Han said hurriedly. "I have proof of what I say. Why
don't you just arrest the whole lot of us now, and then sort it out later
once you have all of the facts?"

"And where is this proof?" the lead guard asked.

"With my son, Anakin. He's in the palace at this moment, helping
in the search for the Chief of State. All the records you need will be in
the memory systems of his R2 unit. So, what do you say? This way you can't
lose." Han smiled disarmingly.

The guard rubbed his chin for moment, seemingly pondering his decision
and its inherent consequences. "All right," he said, head snapping up, and
gestured for his other guards. "Do what the Captain says. Arrest them all,
then find Anakin Solo."

Terion blanched as the guard said this, but the crowd gave a great cheer.
He spat and struggled, cursing as the security guards took hold of him and
placed him in binders. "I will have you all court martialed for this. I will
have you removed from the military entirely!" The guards simply shoved him
forward, dispassionately carrying out their duty.

Han and Chewie, for their part, each calmly handed over their weapons,
and allowed themselves to be escorted from the chamber.

*The rest is up to you, kid* Han thought. *Find your mother for me.*

* * *

Elle hunched further behind her pillar as another few stray bolts
splattered across its surface, chipping the marble and fluttering up curls
smoke. Anakin and Raynar, plus the two NRI agents, were doing a fair to well
job of holding off and pushing back the stream of battle droids that were
attacking them. Yet would they be able to get passed them in time enough to
help Anakin's mother?

She wasn't so sure of that.

There was something tingling in the back of her mind. Something that
was urging her to take action, telling her of its necessity for the continuation
of the future. Was this what Anakin experienced when he had a vision? Was the
Force trying to tell her that they were running out of time to save the Chief of
State?

Elle buried her head in her hands. This was all too confusing. She knew,
more than anything, that she wanted to stay here, safe with Anakin. But if she
did that, then wouldn't her whole purpose in being here become moot? She had,
after all, risked this venture to show him that she could handle herself in such
situations, that she wouldn't be a burden upon him. That way he wouldn't ever
have to leave her alone again when sent off on a mission.

But she was scared too. Even after all her time here, Elle was still unable
to shake that forbidding aura she felt when on this massive city planet. It made
her feel like she was being wrapped in a blanket of winter, like the universe wanted
to freeze her heart in mid beat. And yet, now, there was this other feeling, this
inkling that seemed to penetrate the intense frost and told her to rise up and go forth.

But which to believe?

Which one of these guided her destiny?

Elle closed her eyes, trying desperately to concentrate and draw a clear
focus from the Force, just as Anakin had taught her. No peace would come to her,
though. The calm that she normally found at this center was gone, replaced by a
raging mass of conflicting emotion. They clashed and crashed, breaking like mighty
waves upon a weakened shore.

She would find nothing there. The Force seemed unwilling or unable to help
her.

Then what should she do?

Her heart gave her the answer.

If she truly believed she could build a future with Anakin, if she truly
believed her feelings for him were genuine, then Elle needed his respect. Without
it, she knew, any kind of relationship created would not last. Not so long as he
always looked upon her as the apprentice, as the girl who needed protecting. When
they were on even ground, then and only then could she hope to establish a furthering
of the friendship they had discovered together.

Elle wanted that furthering more than anything else in her life. She wanted
Anakin to feel the warm jittery flush that always seemed to take her over when he
spoke to her, at last relaxed and free of the teacher's mask. She wanted that tense
hunch in his jaw and shoulders to melt immediately when in her presence. She wanted
to see him smile at her, simply because they were there and together.

And if she received none of that, then Elle wanted to at least know that she
had tried and fought for it. To do any less would simply be unforgivable.

Resolved to her purpose, Elle stood and glanced out from behind the pillar.
Anakin and Raynar were pressing their attack forward, skillfully batting away blaster
shots while the NRI agents provided a covering fire for their progress. None of them
seemed to be paying much attention to her, their thoughts all centered on the battle.

Sucking in a deep breath, Elle skipped out from behind her cover and dashed
behind the next pillar in line. She threw herself into the indention, and put a
hand against her chest in a symbolic gesture of calm for her heart. There had been
laser bolts flying everywhere. Gods, so many of them!

Elle bit her bottom lip, and stilled her shaking hands. She was closer now,
though. Perhaps only a step, but then all journeys, as she had learnt at the academy,
began with just a single step. She need only find the courage to take the next and the
next, and would soon enough arrive at her destination.

Peeking her head out again, Elle spied a lull in the fire and dashed into
the next alcove. She continued on like this, moving one pillar at a time, until
she was close enough to the center of the battle that the roar of blaster fire
was near deafening.

It was now or never, she decided. Elle knew that getting any closer would
be an impossibility. The matter at hand was getting through the line of droids.
And with her limited abilities, there wasn't really anything much she could do
but run, and hope that the Force was guiding her actions. If not, well then,
it would all come crashing down.

No, No, NO! Elle berated herself. She wasn't going to think like that!
This was something she could do, this was something she had to do. Wondering
about the what ifs and might-have-beens was not something she planned to do
for the rest of her life. To prevent that miserable future, she had to succeed
in this.

Gathering herself, all of her courage, and her faith, Elle stepped from
behind the pillar and ran. Shards of hot energy whisked past her head, leaving
a faint buzzing calling card in her ears. Elle ran on, despite it, the line of
battle droids growing ever closer, like a cord of bleached and skeletal dominos.
The droid nearest her spun on its heel and fired, but Elle had already launched
herself forward, and was spinning head over heels through a gap in their line.

She came up from the marble floor gasping, her heart pounding like a Bith
samba drum. Spinning to her feet, Elle caught first sight of Anakin's shocked
expression, then of the moving battle droid who had taken the initial potshot at
her. It leveled its rifle again, giving Elle all the encouragement she needed to
continue on with her mission.

She took off down the corridor and disappeared around its curve, the laser
blasts of the one droid splatting off the wall behind her.

* * *

"What's that?" Senator Meecron stumbled from his desk chair, then
hurried over to the door of his office. He pressed his ear against the
cool metal and listened intently for a few moments. "It sounds like blaster
fire," he choked out.

"They must be coming for you," Xayla smiled, beating Leia to the first
comment. She turned and glared briefly at the senator's strange attaché,
wondering what exactly was wrong with the woman. She had yet to figure out
exactly what her laughing fit earlier had been about, much less why she seemed
intent on stoking the senator's overt paranoia.

"It is blaster fire! It is!" The older man stumbled back away from the
door, and folded into his desk chair. "It is the end. I'm finished. You won't
help me?" he said, looking pathetically at Leia.

"No, I will not. Not in the way you wish. But if you help us, give me
the specific names and locations of the conspirators on Dasney, then I might
be able to negotiate some sort of clemency for you." Leia looked pointedly
at the older man. "That is the best I can do. Under no circumstances, though,
will you be allowed back as a senator in the Republic."

"Untrue," Xayla sang from her seat. "You are forgetting exactly what you
have possession of here, senator. She is the Chief of State of the New Republic.
Use her as some sort of hostage or bargaining chip with whoever comes for her.
They won't endanger her safety. They will give you whatever you ask for."

Meecron's eyes began to shine at the prospect of somehow keeping his
office. It was the last thing of worth he had left in his life, and he clung
to it with a blind tenacity. "Do you think that would work, Xayla?"

If possible, his attaché's grin broadened. "Of course it will, senator.
As I said, they won't risk harming her."

Leia's mind began to twirl. Just what was this woman's objective
concerning Meecron? Obviously she wanted him to get himself in as deep as
possible, but why? Was she working for the men whom Meecron was employed
by back on Dasney? Still, though, what good would pushing him this far do?
It was not as if he could be ruined any more completely, and she couldn't hide
the organization's existence any longer by focusing all the attention on Meecron.
No, it was something else, something that she had been given a clue to, but
already overlooked. It felt so much simpler than all of the politics that
surrounded Meecron.

"I wouldn't advise that," Leia told Meecron. "The intelligence
division would have no compunctions about taking their chances with an
assault while I'm inside. They know that I understand the risks of this
position, and the importance of maintaining a zero tolerance policy with
terrorist acts against the Republic. They will attack if you don't give
yourself up."

"Nonsense, senator," Xayla interrupted. "Think about it. Not only
is she the Chief of State, but one of the heroes of the Alliance. She is a
public icon, almost a legend. If they risk her, then they risk the loyalty
and respect of the people they rule over. And if there is anything politicians
will protect with ferocity, it is their jobs."

There was a sudden clattering of footsteps outside of the door. Meecron's
eyes widened and his face curled in horror. "They're here," he gasped.

"Decide now," Xayla badgered him. "Time's up."

Meecron removed a blaster from his desk and pointed it at the door.

Leia leapt to her feet. "Senator, don't do this!"

The door slipped open.

* * *

Jaina ducked another of Gwynandra's blows, then quickly backpedaled.
She hurriedly brushed an arm across her face, scraping at the thick layer of
perspiration that seemed to weigh her down. The lightsaber felt heavy in her
hands, and the backs of her calves were beginning to tighten.

She was tiring. There was no doubt about it. Gwyn, on the other hand,
seemed to be just as spry and ready to go as when their battle had begun. It
was a set of circumstances that definitely did not favor her. Even with all
of Graydon's men now here and looking after Jacen and Tenel Ka, Jaina knew that
she had to win. If she fell, then this new Gwyn would cut through them with a
total lack of effort, and take both her brother and friend while they lay upon
the ground.

Jaina couldn't let that happen. She would win. Yet the next row of
attacks by her opponent set Jaina on the defensive and stepping back with
every blow. High block, low parry, quick feint, and yet another block before
she could take advantage of the move. Gwyn was pressing her inexorably and
quickly backward. There was no opportunity for Jaina to set herself and launch
a counterattack.

Flashes of purple constantly danced between sharp waves of blue and green,
bouncing between the two like Ping-Pong ball desperate to reach one paddle
before it left the surface of the other. The speed continued to increase,
reaching unimaginable heights, until, finally, it became too much and the ball
sped past its intended target.

Jaina couldn't move in time. She saw the blow coming, but her arms and
saber just seemed to drag through the air, unable to move at the pace she was
willing them to. Gwyn's strike glance off her bicep, searing flesh and knocking
Jaina backwards. She unceremoniously hit the ground, dropping her saber and
clutching the wound on the front of her arm.

"Very well done, protector," Gwyn sneered. "You failed your loved ones,
and are now about to die. It must feel awful." Gwyn swung her weapons, the blue
and green melding into one terrifying blaze that fixed itself upon Jaina's eyes.

And yet, just before that haunting melding of color, there sprang forth a
blaze of hope, of light. A brilliant burst of pure and uncompromising yellow
halted its progress, then forced the blue and green phantom backward.

Jaina blinked, her eyes suddenly clearing and taking everything in. There
was man standing in front of her. A man dressed in deep black robes. A man
holding a yellow bladed lightsaber. A man with long black hair tied roughly
into a ponytail. A man who turned his chiseled green eyes upon her for a second.

Jaina's heart skipped a beat.

Oh gods.

"It is not her time," Zekk stated, taking a defensive posture in front of
Jaina. "For you, however, the bell tolls continuously. It knows that you have
scarified your life to serve the darkness, and is calling for your soul. You
can escape it, though. The toll will fade, you need just return your gaze to
the light. Please."

"I have embraced my destiny, my calling!" Gwyn countered. "I tread where
Jacen was afraid to, and have reaped the benefits. Do you think that I would
turn back now?"

"No," Zekk said, a sad tint to his voice. "And unfortunately, we don't
have the time to press the issue further. There are too many lives riding on
this."

"As you say," Gwyn smiled, then leapt at him. Zekk stood his ground, and
quickly batted each of her blows away, forcing Gwyn to retreat.

"Jaina, quickly, get up," he hissed.

Biting her lip in concentration, Jaina forced the pain from her mind, and
stood, bringing her lightsaber to bear.

"Two," Gwyn stated. "So much the better."

The battle resumed.

* * *

Leia's lightsaber flew from Meecron's desk and into her hand. Lunging
forward, she thrust the ignited blade in front of the senator's blaster,
picking off the first few shots he snapped at the now open door. She then
turned, and swept her wrists counterclockwise bringing the blade through the
barrel of the weapon.

Meecron fell off his chair, dropping the now severed pistol. He crawled
into a corner between his desk and chair, and began to quietly sob to himself.

There was a sudden flash within the Force, though. A brilliant explosion
of warning.

A strangled cry from the doorway brought Leia spinning about.

Standing within the durasteel frame was a young girl, perhaps sixteen
years old. Her hair was a beautiful luxurious black, and what Leia assumed
would be a normally friendly face was twisted with shock.

Leia's mouth tried to work, but nothing came out.

The burnt red blade of a lightsaber slipped smoothly from within
the girl's chest.

Xayla gave Leia a sick yet knowing smile, then brandished her weapon.
"Do you understand now, Organa-Solo?"

* * *

The moment Elle felt it pulled from her chest, she collapsed to
the floor. It burned. It burned throughout her chest, down to her toes,
and up through her face. Sheer, raw, gasping agony. And yet she smiled.
Anakin's mother. She had found Anakin's mother.

The pain began to cool. A tingling numbness, like when you've sat on
your feet for far too long, started to seep along the pathways of her body.
It was an almost pleasant sensation.

She had found his mother. At last. She had done it. She had proved
herself.

Anakin would be so proud.

Elle's eyes began to cloud over. Everything turned fuzzy.

* * *

"You're late," I jokingly chided him. Anakin simply glared at me,
then plopped himself under the thick tree. He was just too easy to tease.

I settled down next to him, ready to enjoy the dense foliage of the
tree and the beautifully cool shade it provided against Yavin IV's intense
sun. I was already soaked to the skin from waiting for him. Even in the light
dress I had chosen the heat felt like a blanket that just forever rolled over
you, capturing your every extremity in its warm embrace. If I had thought there
would be any chance of Anakin not having a conniption I might have suggested we
shed some of the layers.

Tough luck, there. I should get him to spend a summer on my parents' farm.
Let him see how us country children deal with the heat and a hard day's work.
It might do wonders for that rather cute but restraining shyness that plagues
him.

"Well," I asked, after a few moments of silence, "what are we going to do
today?" I didn't like long silences. Especially with Anakin. If he was quiet,
it meant he was already or getting close to contemplative. And as much as I
admire him for that aspect of himself that just seems willing to take on the
problems of the universe, I much rather have him when he smiles.

"For the moment," he responded, throwing his back against the earth and
laying down, "absolutely nothing."

"Ooh," I said, smile broadening and eyes lighting up, "are we going to
play hooky today, Master?" He offered up so many opportunities to tease him
it was just pathetic. "You're such a rebel." I emphasized each word with a
quick poke in his chest.

Anakin grimaced at me. "Do you have to do that, Elle? I'm tired.
Really, very tired," he added. "But don't worry," he said, giving me a
vicious grin. "We'll get your lesson in."

Now it was my turn to pout. "I'm so sorry for teasing you, oh wise
and generous master of mine." I flashed him my best angelic smile.

"We are still going to work, Elle."

"You're no fun," I complained, laying down next to him.

"That's right," he responded smugly. Anakin let his eyes drift
shut again, and I lay there simply staring at him, wondering what exactly
made him the way he was.

Another stretch of silence. Oh, how could he stand this!? It was
so. . . . so empty. Didn't he realize that?

I decided to poke him again and find out. But this time, as my finger
struck his arm, I stopped. He was rigid, tense beyond what the word should
connote.

"What, Elle?" Anakin sighed, and turned his head toward me. Both of
his eyes fell open and fixed upon me.

"Well, uh, we haven't," I began to babble, "we haven't done anything
yet?"

Anakin looked at me strangely. "Why are you so anxious today? You
live to tell me I need to relax, and now that I'm giving you the opportunity
to, you're pressing me to work. Are you intentionally trying to drive me insane?"

I rolled my eyes, then giggled. "Not at all. But I think you are
intentionally trying to throw me off today. But if you want to relax, Anakin,
let's relax. Now sit up, so we can get to it," I ordered him.

His face promptly scrunched up in this mix of interest and horror that
always seems to over take him when I use that tone of voice. "Why exactly?"
he asked tentatively.

"Oh, just do it." I grabbed him by the shoulders of his tunic and
hauled him upright. I then quickly positioned myself behind him, and lay a
hand on each of said rigid shoulders.

"What are you doing?" If it was at all possible, I actually think he
got more tense. I shook my head. Leave it to Anakin.

I began to press my fingertips into his muscle, first outward, then
curling back in a circular motion. Anakin let out a great extended sigh,
then sagged backward into me. I gladly accepted his weight, the feel of his
back against my chest. He just seemed to melt under my fingers. I had never
seen, nor felt him this relaxed before, this exposed. It was unusual to say
the least.

But when I managed to crane my neck enough to see his face, I knew it
was all worth it. His eyes had drifted shut, and his face had lost that drawn
taught look that always seemed to follow him about. The corners of his mouth
twitched upward. This was the Anakin I knew was in there somewhere, the one
that appeared every once and awhile just to tease me.

"This is heavenly," he muttered, almost silently.

"What?" I asked, lowering my mouth to his ear. I could almost feel
my mirth slipping out through my voice and tickling his face. "You've never
had a back rub before?"

"Not really, no," Anakin continued, almost as if he didn't quite realize
that he was speaking. "The opportunity never exactly presents itself with me."
He collapsed completely against me now, making it somewhat difficult to continue
with my ministrations. I kept going anyway.

"You're problem, Anakin," I said softly, "is that you just don't know the
proper person to ask. That makes all the difference, you know."

Anakin suddenly jerked, and tumbled away from me. He spun about and
stared, pinning me with two wide brown eyes. "Thank you." He paused for a
moment. "Yes, thank you. I feel much better now." Rising to his feet, Anakin
dusted himself down and gestured away from our tree back toward the clearing.
"Let's start your lessons for today."

I watched him move away, slowly, surely, confidently, and knew that the
Master's mask was back in place. Sighing, I moved to follow him. I had been
so close this time.

So close.

* * *

The cold was everywhere inside her now, and the fuzzy haze that
had fogged her vision had long since turned completely black. Yet Elle
continued to smile.

They always said that at the moment of your death, your life flashes
before your eyes. Well, that wasn't it at all. It wasn't all of your life,
but your greatest moment, your most treasured memory. It came alive for you
so much so that it felt like you were there again, reliving every instant of
it.

It was wonderful.

Smile still in place, Elle Mathys let her eyes finally shut, and her
last breath rattle from her body.

Anakin would be proud.

* * *

Anakin whipped his lightsaber through another droid, slicing it
in two at its artificial spine. Kicking aside the fallen pile of sparking
electronics and metal, he charged another of his opponents and attacked it
with unbridled vigor.

What had Elle been thinking? Why would she run off like that? After
everything he had taught her, after everything they had worked toward together,
why would she do something so utterly foolish? When companionship is available,
take it. It was one of the simplest and most basic of the Jedi's tenets.
There was never any reason good enough to try and undertake a mission by
yourself when help was close at hand.

He would have to a have a long talk with her when this was all over.
Such rash behavior was not acceptable, especially not of a Jedi.
Maybe afterward, when she had been made conscious of her mistake, he
would broach the subject of a visit to Mon Calamari. He was sure he could
convince his Uncle Luke that it would be beneficial to Elle's training somehow.
Anakin had promised Eemar, more importantly he had promised himself, that he
would take Elle to the watery world. And he would do just that.

Anakin felled his latest opponent, then twirled and decapitated
another. The droids were finally thinning, only a few more holding their
defensive line. It would be only a matter of minutes before the rest of them
joined their compatriots as sparking scrap that littered the hallway of he
palace. It was time to end this.

Nodding his head, Anakin signaled for Raynar and the two NRI agents to
press their advantage. Stevens and DeVries let loose with another pocket of
blaster shots, dropping two further droids, while Raynar slowly advanced on
an isolated unit. Anakin, for his part, charged the remaining pack, ducking
and twirling, slashing and blocking, and generally moving in something of a
phenomenal whirl of color.

The four droids were destroyed in a matter of moments.

Anakin deactivated his lightsaber and slipped it onto his belt. Suddenly,
however, the world was turned on its head. A wave of pure and unadulterated emotion
washed through him, forcing him to the floor in its rage.

Heat.
Pain.
Cold.
Smile.
Laughter.
Aggravation.
Acceptance.
Pleasure.
Warmth.
Ice.
Dark.

Thoughts, feelings, images: they all bombarded his mind, cutting and
crashing until they forced one word to his lips.

"Elle?" Anakin gasped, clutching at his head, trying to force the jumble
that was attacking him into some kind of sanity.

Then it all clicked.

"ELLE!" The raw hoarse cry exploded from the boy, echoing about
the chamber in a testament of pure pain.

Anakin leapt to his feet and was down the corridor before Raynar
had even a chance to take a breath.

* * *

Leia looked from the prone form of the young girl with the blackened
hole in her chest to the one casually holding a blazing red lightsaber opposite
her. Only one thought ran through her mind. "How?" she asked, still shocked.

Xayla grinned in utter animalistic satisfaction. "Oh, come now,
Organa-Solo. Do you really think that the Sith would have survived as
long as they have without knowing ways of disguising themselves while
directly in the presence of a Jedi? And especially with you, the barely
trained whelp that you are, it was easier than the most simple child's
puzzle."

Leia gripped her lightsaber a little tighter. Her voice became a
little colder. "Why? What is your part in all this?"

"I have no part in this. Not directly, anyway. I am merely an agent
of chaos, paving the way for the madness that will consume you all. As
for her," and Xayla nodded towards Elle's body, "I felt sorry for her.
Such a young thing, so innocent. If I had let her live and become a
Jedi, she would have eventually suffered much, much worse. It was more
humane this way."

Leia moved toward Xayla, her lightsaber held in the en guard position.
"I wouldn't recommend that, Organa-Solo," Xayla admonished, shaking her
head. "You couldn't possibly possess the skill to defeat me."

Leia favored the woman with a cold, grim smile. "I may yet surprise
you."

Suddenly, Anakin threw himself through the doorway of the office with
a feral snarl. His lightsaber slammed against Xayla's, throwing the surprised
woman back into the pale wall of the suite. A swift downward strike was neatly
parried by Xayla, but Anakin pressed his attack, reversing angles and thrusting
the hilt of his weapon into the woman's nose.

Bone and cartilage shattered, and a thick stream of blood began a
constant flow down Xayla's face. Laughing, she threw Anakin backward a
few steps with a forward thrust, then gestured for him to come again. No
attention was paid to the blood that ran over her face and lips.

Leia had backed off from the fight as soon as her son made his presence
known. She realized, despite her protestations to Xayla, that he had a
much more reasonable chance at success in this fight than her. His skill
was just so much higher than she could ever hope to achieve. A difference,
though, a doubtful, dreaded difference, surfaced in her son as she watched
him fight.

Anakin was angry.

And not just angry, he was in a blinding rage. His attacks were
short and fierce, meant to maim or kill, not disarm. There were no thoughts
of bringing Xayla to justice in Anakin's mind. This was the poise of an
executioner, a hunter springing the trap on its prey. It was not a path
Leia wanted to consider at all. It was something that plagued her dreams
and nightmares over and over again, yet never really formed a cohesive
image when awake. This was real, though. Her son was taking the first
steps down the path his namesake had chosen.

As much as an old part of herself might derive some satisfaction
from seeing Anakin cut down the woman after what she had done to that
girl, Leia was no more ready to sacrifice her son to a ghost of the past
than she had been to allow Tarkin to destroy the Alliance base on Yavin.

Racing from the corner she had backed into, Leia thrust her blade
between the other two clashing Jedi, and pushed Anakin away from Xayla.
"Anakin, get control of yourself! Harness your emotions!" Leia stood
her ground in front of Xayla, not allowing the woman any way in which to
re-engage Anakin. That bridge would not be crossed. Leia would not allow
it.

"Mother!" Anakin roared. "What are you doing? Haven't you seen
what she's done?"

"Of course, I did. I was there," Leia countered. "I saw the girl
murdered, and I'm sorry to say I couldn't do anything to save her. But
fighting in your condition, your state of mind, Anakin, it's suicide!
Can't you feel it? You are already taking the first steps down the dark
path."

"I am not." Anakin's voice became a low growl. "She took her from
me. . . . took her before I realized, before I had any chance. . . ." His
voice trailed off for a moment. "I am doing nothing but executing justice.
Let me through."

Leia continued to stand firm, eyeing Xayla. "No, Anakin. I will not
let you do this. I will not lose you."

"I've lost already!" he exploded. "Let me have this, please!
Mother!"

"Don't worry, young Solo," Xayla suddenly interjected, startling
Leia. "You and I, we shall have our opportunity to settle this matter.
Another time, though." Her hand slipped to a small indentation in the
wall she was backed against. It flared a bright red briefly, then the
section of wall shot upwards, swallowing her body.

Anakin charged forward, throwing Leia aside with a Force push.
Lunging as far as he could, Anakin swept at the woman with his blade,
but it caught only plaster and durasteel as the wall thundered back into
its original position.

For a brief, pain filled moment, as Leia watched her son pound
futilely at the wall, she considered telling him of the trigger she had
seen Xayla push. She considered giving him leave to exercise whatever
demons had consumed him because of this. The notion didn't even last a
second, though.

Finally, just as he looked as if he were going to shred the wall
with his lightsaber in an effort to make his way through it, Anakin turned
away, then deactivated his blade. A pair of ice cold eyes fell upon Leia.
They seized her every muscle, rooting her in place. In that gaze there was
nothing of her son. Nothing of the boy she had known and loved. At least
not for her, at any rate. Dark side or not, she had lost him.

"Is it, is it safe to come out yet?" a wheezing and shaking Senator
Meecron asked, as he crawled out from under his desk. He looked hopefully
at first Anakin, then Leia, but neither responded.

"Hold her memorial on Mon Calamari," Anakin stated, then walked from
the room. He stiffened, though, and stopped as he neared the body. Leia
watched as her son knelt next to it, and whispered a pair of words in the
girl's now deaf ears. Then Anakin was gone.

* * *

Tenel Ka had watched the fight with renewed hope and vigor once Zekk
had arrived. His presence seemed to have rejuvenated Jaina, and the two
of them had pressed their advantage, pushing Gwynandra Salanon continually
backward. But they had landed no blows, and come no closer to actually
ending the fight. And that had been their downfall.

Now the tide of the duel was flowing against them, as a new offensive
by Gwyn forced them to give up the ground they had only so recently gained.
And yet they lost even more. The situation was beginning to border on
desperate. Jaina was looking tired again, lagging in her strikes and
blocks. Luckily, Zekk had been firm in his defense of her, and quick
enough to cover any lapses.

He couldn't last forever, though.

Gwyn seemed to be fueled by the simple act of fighting itself.
As if every clash of the lightsabers brought her more and more in touch
with the Force, and all the darker powers she called on through it. And
that connection had to be strong and growing. For even users of the dark
side, training was a necessity. Gwynandra, on the other hand, seemed to
be so in tune with the actions of her enemies that the anticipation she
was experiencing bridged the gap between her skill level and that of her
opponents.

It was quite astonishing if you took the time to think about it.

Tenel Ka, however, wanted no such time, nor luxury. And yet,
there was, at the moment, nothing she could do to help her friends.
Not in the condition her body was currently in. Her mental and verbal
victories over Salanon had cost her severely in the physical battlefield.
Walking would be difficult for some days to come, she was sure.

There had to be something, though, anything she could do to help. She
just needed to think of what.

That time, however, ran out as Gwyn, Jaina, and Zekk came crashing
through Graydon's defensive line around the patients. His men scattered
every which way to avoid the whipping blades. Surprisingly, only the medics
stood their ground with both her and Jacen despite Graydon's bellowing of
orders to reestablish their position.

It was an open battlefield.

Tenel Ka watched Jaina press a quick strong attack, one designed to
try and force Gwyn backward and away from the position of the soldiers and
patients. Salanon, however, abruptly halted Jaina's press by locking the
Jedi's blade up with her two, then hurling Jaina into the Shental soldiers
with the Force. A collection of loud curses and grunts sprang from the
men Jaina had bowled over.

Zekk quickly moved in, trying to pick up where Jaina had failed.
His blocks and strikes were smooth and rhythmic, like a bith sonata played
on New Year's eve. He even managed to tie Gwyn up for a few spare moments,
but could not force her away from the noncombatants. It was as if now
being so close to Jacen spurred her to refuse to leave his side with
the stubbornness of a tree only bending in the wind.

Then, in a moment of lapse, she turned him around and thrust him
from the ring.

The soldiers had yet to reorganize themselves. They simply
watched, fascinated, as the two Jedi had been cast away, and their
attacker turned toward Jacen's still body. His attending medic moved
to shield him, but a flick of Gwyn's lightsabers sent the man back to
his side. She stepped in front of the young Jedi, and raised one of
her weapons.

Jaina fought her way free of the soldiers.

Gwyn turned to Tenel Ka. "And now, whore, at last, I think
it's my turn to say, I win."

Tenel Ka reached toward her boot.

Gwyn's lightsaber arrived at its height, then came crashing
downward, a blood thirsty blaze of green. The searingly intent look
in her eyes proclaimed victory, announcing to everyone around her that
she had finally beaten him. She had finally beaten the boy who had
scorned her, who had scorned his destiny. But most of all she had
beaten the vile woman who had turned Jacen from her. This day was
hers.

But her final blow never landed.

Gwyn howled in agony, fire lancing from her hand all the
way up through her arm. She spun away from Jacen, dropping her
lightsabers, and clutched feebly at the palm that was now pierced
by the fine silver blade of a beautifully carved dagger.

The moment was all Jaina needed. She covered the distance
between her and Gwyn in four quick strides, then backhanded the
woman across the skull with the pommel of her lightsaber. Gwyn fell
heavily to the ground, nary the simplest of movements flexing any part
of her frame.

Tenel Ka collapsed backward, exhaustion threatening to claim her.
Yet, as her eyes drifted hazily across the surface of the hangar's
ceiling, she managed a thin, almost nonexistent smile. "No, you do
not," Tenel Ka whispered, then allowed herself to be carried away
into the inviting darkness.

* * *

Jaina watched wistfully as the two medical speeders carrying
Jacen and Tenel Ka disappeared into the craggy sloping lines of Candren's
landscape. Lowie had accompanied them, bristling to make sure that nothing
untoward would happen to either of his friends. He still didn't trust Graydon
in the least, and leaving them to his care was not something the wookie was
overly prepared to do. Beside that, he had also none too subtly hinted that
Jaina might want to stay behind and use the retrieval of the SABER as an
excuse to talk. There were no illusions in her mind as to just who Lowie
wanted her to talk with.

"Don't worry yourself, Solo. They'll both be very well taken care
of. We have excellent medical facilities." Lieutenant Graydon strode
up to her, his voice pulling Jaina's eyes away from the horizon and toward
him. He looked a little worse for wear, deep lines had taken hold of his
face and he sported numerous bruises over his exposed arms. And yet he
still managed to appear wholly and arrogantly assured of himself.

"I'm sure you do, Graydon. And even if you didn't, I'm positive
Lowie would get them wherever the best care was available."

Graydon scratched at the stubble lining his chin. "Ah yes, your
wookie friend. I would have been significantly more happy if he had
left some of those men alive for us to arrest. Aren't you Jedi types
supposed to revere life?"

Jaina slowly released a breath through a pinhole in her lips.
*Control, control, control. Don't let him make you lose your temper.
He's not worth it,* she reminded herself. "As you are well aware,
Graydon, Lowie did not do anything to those men. They were jumped
by those creatures you have roaming the countryside here. He couldn't
do anything to stop it."

"Are you sure of that?"

Jaina was beginning to get disgusted. "Don't you ever stop?"

"Not at all," Graydon grinned. "I'm suspicious about
everything and everyone."

"Must be a wonderful way to live," Jaina snorted. The
wind picked up and began to idly toss her ponytail about her
shoulders.

"It's always worked for me. In any case, Solo, I just
thought you could use some reassurance. That's all." Graydon
pointedly tilted his head in the direction of the bandage Jaina
had wound around one arm. "Though I suspect it may have been
unnecessary. You know first hand, now, how good our medical staff is."

Graydon was right, Jaina knew. The field medics had been
wonderful after the fight with Gwynandra, taking care of her lightsaber
burn with precise but gentle care. There was only a dull tingle now
where once there had been a throbbing ache. But in truth, the
conditions of their medical facilities was not really what worried
her the most. "If you want to reassure me on something, Graydon,
then try Gwynandra Salanon. What are you going to do with her?"

"Well, for the moment, we have given her as much sedative as
general safety allows for. Wouldn't want her waking up in the middle
of transport, now would we?" he laughed.

"Transport to where? You'll have a hard time containing her
in any prison I can think of."

"Prison isn't on her agenda," Graydon responded. "Since the
end of your fight, I've been in contact with the magistrates, and
they feel that she would be best served by returning to the
institution which she was broken out of, and receiving the treatment
she needs." Graydon shrugged. "Personally, I thought prison would
have worked just as well for the crimes she committed."

"I don't understand. How can they expect to keep her in the
institution now?" This made no sense to Jaina at all. What were
these people thinking of?

"If you're so worried about this, why didn't you kill her when
you had the opportunity, Solo?"

Jaina clenched her teeth in frustration. The man was utterly
impossible and infuriating. "Because, Graydon," she snapped, "I do
not kill if it is not necessary. And there were certainly many other
options available to me at that time."

"Perhaps you should have considered the options that would be
available to us now, instead," Graydon stated. Jaina wanted to scream.
"But, to alleviate your fears," Graydon continued, "we've learned a bit
about keeping you Jedi under control from the young lady in question.
Once everything can be negotiated properly, we plan to place those slug
things all along the outside walls of her room. That way she'll be just
like any other patient."

"The ysalamiri?" Jaina balked. "That's going to require a lot of
upkeep, not to mention cost in metals. And what about when she leaves
her room? What then?"

"They use those frames, I suppose. Look, Solo, I didn't say it
was going to be easy for them to pull off, but this is the best we were
able to come up with. It will have to do. Or perhaps you'd rather just
sit there and pout about it?"

"No, no," Jaina waved off his insinuation. "It's fine. I just
hope it all works out."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my office
and make sure all of this becomes nice and official through a mountain
of paperwork."

"Good luck, Graydon," Jaina said. "I'm glad you managed to get
this all right in the end."

"Absolutely, Solo. And I'm always right, anyway," he grinned.
"It's was interesting, this little jaunt of ours. I look forward to
doing it again sometime."

"Don't be surprised if I lack the same sentiment," Jaina flatly
stated.

"Sure, sure," Graydon tossed over his shoulder as he walked toward
the Shental airspeeder. "Stick a knife in my heart. See you around,
Solo." With that, he grabbed a set of rungs and hauled himself up
into the belly of the machine. Its hatch fell shut, a slight hiss
indicating the apparatus' activation. The engines exploded into life,
roaring busily as they began to push the speeder up into the air, and
then down the great slops of the mountains.

Once again, Jaina found herself standing, staring at the retreating
form of the machine, waiting for someone to come and interrupt her.

It didn't take long this time.

"Pleasant individual, isn't he?" Zekk asked, appearing from the
shadows and sitting down upon a flat boulder that jutted from the earth.
Jaina ignored his attempt to invite her to sit upon the rock with him.
Instead, she continued to let her eyes trace the horizon and left her
back toward the black garbed Jedi.

"You're finally back," she began, pulling the jacket she wore tighter
about her. "Three years later, you finally decide to drop back in and race
to the rescue."

Zekk sighed, grabbing tightly ahold of his kness. "I did not race,
Jaina. If I had, I would have intervened much before events reached this
stage."

"You mean you were watching me the entire time?"

"Not all of it," Zekk said, shifting uncomfortably upon his
perch.

"Oh. Just most of it then," she said acidly.

"Look, Jaina. I was returning to Coruscant, and I contacted
your mother. I thought she might give me heads up on your location
so that I could surprise you. Instead, she told me that you and
Jacen were involved in some trouble, and that she wanted me to watch
over the both of you, but only intervene if absolutely necessary. I
honored her request."

"You must really still think me a child."

"No, Jaina, I do not. Far from it actually."

"You've a funny way of showing that," she bit back. "I can't
imagine how adult and independent I must look in your eyes when first
you think I'm too immature and incapable of coming with you, and now that
I can't take of myself."

"This has nothing to do with my decision to leave earlier," Zekk
quietly stated. "I was merely acting on what I felt was right for all of
us."

Jaina spun on her heel and bore down on Zekk. "It has everything to
do with that! I was seventeen, Zekk, and you abandoned me! Do you know what
that can do to the heart of someone so young? Maybe if you had done it now
that I'm older and have bit of perspective on the matter, it might not have
been so all consuming. But you know what, that doesn't matter does it? I
should get over it, shouldn't I? After all, you did what you thought was
right for me."

Zekk cringed under the intensity of Jaina's gaze, the malevolence it
held. This was not what he had expected at all.

"Don't ever presume to know what is best for me without asking first."
Jaina turned her back to him again, allowing the wind to sweep up her
back, and tickle goose bumps to her flesh.

"I can see this is going to take some work," Zekk sighed. "Will you at
least give me that chance?" The silence stood heavily over them for a minute,
a sentinel unwilling to allow for the breaking of this still life scene.

"Yes. Fine. I'll give you the opportunity, Zekk. Don't expect much
to come of it, though."

"That's all I ask," he said, appeased.

"Did you find what you were looking for out there? The Jedi
colony?"

"Yes and no," Zekk answered. "That quest's outcome has yet to
really be determined."

"So forthright," Jaina snorted. "Just like before." She began
to walk away, her boots sifting through the loose earth. "Come on.
My ship's this way."

* * *

Tenel Ka wandered away from the hospital room window and the
brilliant black night sky without. It was a beautiful sight, something
indicative of the evening actually, despite their less than comparable
surroundings. The room at the hospital was sparse and white, depressing
in its ruthless cleanliness and practicality. And yet, for some reason,
a great warmth invaded this room. It was not the kind that made you sweat
nor swelter, but the kind that started in your belly then burst outward
till it filled you up from your head to your toes.

Moving around her own small bed, Tenel Ka found the chair next to
Jacen's and gently sat down. He looked much better than before, and not
just prior to the battle with Salanon. His face held a content sheen that
she had not seen on it since near their arrival on Shental. It was quite
pleasant to see it back in its proper place. Jacen without enthusiasm,
without love, was just not natural. It would feel like the world had been
taken and twisted so its bottom rose up and its top down.

It felt strange finally admitting that to herself, admitting that
this young man played such an important part in her definition of reality,
of stability, that when there was something the matter with him it felt as
if the universe had lost its balance. Tenel Ka knew now, though, that she
and Jacen were forever intertwined. Their long battle against Salanon had
taught her that. It had forced the truth to the surface with such power
that she could no longer deny or downplay it.

It horrified her to think that she had almost lost it all.

There was a moment at the end, when Salanon was poised to strike
Jacen with their lightsabers, that Tenel Ka considered changing the
intended destination of her knife. It would have been so easy for her
to simply flick her wrists and send the blade deep into the chest of that
misguided woman, and then watch happily as her lifeblood spilt forth.
She could have rid them of her influence forever. Never in the future
would they have had to look over their shoulders, wondering if perhaps a
lunatic from their nightmares was silently stalking them. She could have
guaranteed them peace.

But such is temptation. It adorns itself in the most beautiful of
trappings, the loveliest of guises, and then attempts to sweet talk you
into your downfall.

Salanon had spoken often of an ascendance, of grasping destiny and
reaching a higher plane. She had thought Jacen had failed to accomplish
this by not seizing the power offered him when such dark thoughts haunted
his mind. Yet, even in her dementia, Salanon had come upon a kernel of truth.
She had associated her fantasy of being with Jacen, of him as her rescuer or
knight errant, with this ascension. Salanon had once placed happiness above
all else, and in that understanding she came upon said truth.

At that moment, when the decision was forced upon her, Tenel Ka knew
that she had faced the same challenge as Salanon. It was the time for her
ascension and she had to choose by which method she would obtain it: force
or passion. Vengeance or happiness. The dark or the light. Which was
ultimately the higher plane?

Fortunately for Tenel Ka, the darkness that had surrounded her was
pierced by an intense and shining light. Jacen. He had shown her the way,
the path that would lead her safely home to him. And so she made her decision,
and the knife found itself imbedded in Salanon's hand in lieu of her heart.

Now, looking down upon Jacen's sleeping face, Tenel Ka knew how right
that decision had been. This was certainly the higher plane, her ultimate
destiny. What else mattered in the end but your happiness? Yes, she knew
now that everything she needed was here, with her. Her eyes had been opened
to the truth, in part thanks to Salanon, and this state, his companionship,
she would never take it for granted again. It was her ultimate treasure.

And Jacen. Jacen could sleep now, finally free from the torment of
shattered dreams.


Final conclusion in the epilogue. . . .