"How many times do I have to tell you, there is nothing more I can do? The judge has decided he'll remain in jail. There's no point challenging it."
Sitting in the tiny office of Luke's lawyer, her wheelchair sandwiched between a chair overflowing with Chewbacca and the lawyer's all-too-clean desk, Mara counted to ten silently, squeezing her right hand into a tight fist, the nails digging painfully into the still tender flesh of her palm. The bacta treatment, which admittedly Mara had broken off too soon when she had discharged herself from the Pandar City Hospital, had not completely healed the damage done to her hand. She closed her eyes, and the smell of her own burning flesh as her torturers held her hand over an open flame filled her nostrils once again. She felt her skin bubbling and blistering as she tried to hold the pain in, knowing Luke was nearby, feeling what she felt, powerless to help her. Don't give in, Luke, she thought. Don't give them what they want.
Beside her, Chewbacca chuffed softly, and Mara opened her eyes, willing herself back into the present. She knew what he wanted, but she wanted to try her way one more time.
"Counselor Apurta," she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice, "I understand that you have no desire to act as Luke's defender. I know that you were assigned to this case...."
"And I fully intend to carry out my duties to the best of my ability," Apurta asserted defensively.
"Then I would think you would want to ensure you had a client to defend."
"And I think you overestimate the danger to your husband," Apurta retorted. "We are a free democracy now. The days when undesirables were murdered in jail before coming to trial are past."
"I wish I could share your confidence, Counselor, but I saw the bruises myself." Mara let her anger seep into her voice as she shot Chewie a quick but meaningful glance. Okay, your way. "If we do not get Luke out of there, an injustice equal to Akeeno's murder will soon take place."
Apurta clearly took offense at the comparison and was about to challenge Mara, when she glanced suddenly at Chewbacca. The Wookiee had begun to breathe heavily, his chest heaving, grunting as he exhaled. He seemed to grow larger with each breath, as if he were an overheated engine about to explode. He couldn't go into full-scale berserker mode as he used to in the old days with Han. This was no cantina, nor was Apurta some petty crime lord they were trying to beat into submission. Still, a taste of enraged Wookiee could do wonders in convincing people to see your point of view.
"Chewie, please, you must control yourself," Mara said, but she didn't sound as if she meant it. Her gaze locked onto the nervous lawyer like a heat-seeking missile. "You must understand, Luke is his ship family. Among spacers, when ship family is endangered, nothing will stand in the way of protecting them."
Apurta's eyes grew wider, and to Chewie's breathing became more labored. Mara again looked at the Wookiee and said, "Chewie, killing Apurta won't help."
With a low growl, Chewie bared his fangs, and his long claws unsheathed themselves against his knees. The lawyer swallowed hard, then tore her gaze away from the Wookiee to look questioningly at Mara, "Do you really believe your husband is in such danger?"
"I know it." Mara leaned forward. "Not with the instinct of a wife, but with the certainty of a Jedi."
For a long moment, the two women held each other's gaze. Even Chewbacca fell silent, although he retained his menacing pose.
When at last Apurta spoke, it was not as an enemy who had been cowed into submission, but as an ally prepared to help. "All right," she agreed. "But if we're going to ask the warden to hand over possibly incriminating tapes, we had better have a warrant issued by the judge herself."
*****
The judge was not happy about the request, but they were within their legal rights. Furthermore the judge had not appreciated the bad publicity about their legal system spreading throughout the galaxy due to Mara's difficulties in obtaining permission to see her husband.
The warden was even less happy, and at first refuse to hand to tapes over. Even after they produced the judge's warrant, the warden was still highly uncooperative. They were forced to wait over three hours before the tapes were finally produced.
With a week's worth of tapes of from over thirty cameras, trying to find evidence concerning Luke would be like looking for a lone starship in the vast emptiness of space. But Mara pointed out to the others that she had first met Luke under those precise conditions, with the pirate ship Wild Karrde on which she had been serving just happened to cross paths with Luke's disabled ship over ten years ago. If not for that coincidence, Luke would have perished alone in space. No one else, however, was particularly encouraged by those odds.
By now Han had joined them, with assurances from Leia that the lawyers would arrive the next day, a prospect which heartened Apurta significantly. The foursome took the boxload of tapes to the nearest library and plugged themselves into four consoles to begin the arduous process of reviewing the evidence.
They were soon able to eliminate some cameras as being unlikely to produce anything relevant. The night tapes revealed the prisoners' demonstrations after lockdown every night since Luke's imprisonment. Without sound, it would be difficult to prove anything, but Han thought he could clearly see prisoners on one tape mouthing the word "Jedi." That tape went into the evidence stack.
After an hour Mara discovered the tape of the morning riot, with Luke escaping up the wire mesh, clearly the pursued and not the aggressor. But it was Apurta who noticed several tapes were missing from the sequence. Through careful review of all the tapes filmed before and after the missing sections, they were able to find a relatively healthy Luke followed, after the blank space, by a Luke who had clearly been beaten. Other blank spaces likewise were followed by evidence of an increasingly battered and exhausted Luke.
Adding one of the most recently made tapes to document the severity of Luke's condition, they raced off in search of the judge. By now it was late evening, and the judge had gone home for the night. They located her address, and within half an hour presented themselves on her doorstep.
The judge herself answered the door, and she was not pleased to see them. "What do you mean, disturbing me here in my home? Come to my office in the morning, and I'll review the tapes there." She started to close the door.
"I apologize, Your Honor," Apurta said, "but surely the inconvenience is not that great, when a man's life is at stake?"
This gave the judge pause. She scrutinized the lawyer's face carefully. "You really believe he's in danger?"
Holding forth the tapes, Apurta asserted, "The evidence we have discovered is indeed damning, Your Honor."
The judge hesitated. Unbenownst to the foursome, this particular judge had begun her tenure during the rule of the Barons. She secretly preferred the old times, and the Barons had continued to show favor to her. They had already contacted her several times to offer their insights into how they thought this case of the Jedi should be handled. She did not treat their insights lightly.
But she also knew that a new day had dawned on Pamylasia. The Barons no longer ruled, and as much as she admired them, she loved Pamylasia more. The thought of those tapes being broadcast by the press troubled her deeply. The Barons still had influence with her, but they did not control her.
"Very well," she acquiesced. "I will look at them."
She ushered them into her study, where Apurta popped the tapes one by one into the computer and outlined what they had found. The judge did not interpret the tapes to quite the extreme the others did, but she could not deny that Luke's condition was growing alarmingly worse.
"All right," she relented. "I'll arrange another hearing for bail tomorrow."
"Another hearing?" Han protested. "When the prison officials learn of it, they'll make sure he's dead before it happens!"
The judge's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Apurta added, "Your Honor, clearly at the very least the prison officials have chosen to turn a blind eye to whatever is happening to Skywalker. The missing tapes prove that they have deliberately covered up evidence."
"But if they learn that we know it, that they are under suspicion, surely they will not jeopardize their careers by murdering him?"
"Someone can always be blamed, Your Honor," Apurta pointed out. "And my client will be just as dead."
The judge stared at the computer screen, the image frozen on Luke's bruised face. Long moments passed as Luke's family held their breaths, waiting, praying for the judge to come to the right decision. Waiting was not something any of them was good at.
But it was Apurta who finally broke the silence again. "Your Honor, our beloved Dimi deserves to have her murderer come to a trial. If this man dies in prison, how will justice have been served? It will not even have been proved that he is, in fact, her murderer."
The judge's gaze flicked up to the lawyer's face, and her eyes softened slightly, but she remained silent.
"You can reconsider, and set a new bail without a hearing," Apurta reminded her.
"That is usually done in cases of mortal illness."
Gesturing at the screen, Han said, "If that ain't a mortal illness, I don't know what is!"
The judge shrugged, almost amused. "I see your point. It's unusual, but...." She cocked an eyebrow at Han. "Could you guarantee the bail? I really can't set it at anything less than one million Republic credits."
Mara's head reeled at the sum. She should have expected it, yet it still came as a shock. Once she could have staked her shipping business with Talon Karrde for that amount, but she had given all that up when she became a Jedi. While the Knights never lacked for money, none of them were rich. Almost all the financial gifts or boon that had ever come Luke's way he given to the Academy. She could not possibly guarantee that amount on the spot.
Fortunately, she didn't have to. Han spoke up, "My wife has the money -- Luke's sister. All we have to do is call her. She'll guarantee it." While Leia was almost as generous with her money as Luke was, as heir to the House of Organa, she had a lot more capital at her disposal, and Han certainly had money from his own ongoing business dealings. Although his earnings were not as large as they had been when he and Chewie ran illegal goods during the days of the Empire, nevertheless as a settled married man with kids he was far more frugal than he ever used to be. Even though Han was sure Leia had already had to front a lot of money to secure Luke's lawyers, he was confident that between the two of them they could guarantee the amount.
"All right, then," the judge agreed. "Call her. I want to speak to her myself, but I'm sure the President of the Republic's word is trustworthy."
In an uncharacteristic display of diplomacy, Han chose to ignore whatever underlying message the judge meant by that cryptic remark.
"First thing in the morning," the judge promised, "I'll have the details worked out for his release."
But that was still not enough. "First thing in the morning?!" Mara echoed. "He might not live that long!"
Not unsympathetic, the judge shrugged. "I'm sorry. They're in lockdown by now, and I don't have the authority to get him out after lockdown."
An uneasy silence filled the room. "Surely something can be done, Your Honor?" Apurta asked.
The judge considered, "I could request he be moved to solitary...."
"No good," Han interrupted. "That would tip them off for sure."
Shaking her head, the judge said, "Then he'll have to wait until morning."
But would that be too late?
Chapter Nine: The Final Blow
At that time, the prison was indeed in lockdown, but Luke was not to remain in his cell. Every night Luke had found himself with a different cellmate, as a succession of inmates got their chance -- and failed -- to take out the Jedi. But that night Luke found himself alone, a situation he in no way found comforting.
His family's efforts on his behalf had not gone unnoticed, and the Barons had used their influence to pressure the prison officials into taking care of the situation immediately. Tonight was the night Luke Skywalker would die.
Despite his misgivings, Luke took advantage of his solitude to try to get some genuine, much-needed sleep. No sooner did the buzzer sound locking all the doors than Luke's head hit the pillow and he fell into a deep sleep. Within half an hour after lockdown, however, he was awoken by the clanging of the guards banging their clubs on the bars of his cell.
"Wake up, Jedi! You have an appointment to keep."
Despite the deep sleep he'd been enjoying, Luke's Jedi skills meant he was instantly alert upon waking. As calmly as if he had been expecting them, Luke got up. As he exited the cell, six guards closed ranks around him.
"Where are you taking me?" Luke asked in a conversational tone.
"Shut up! No talking!"
Of course he had expected no answer, but any clue he could get would help. As they marched down the cell block, Luke realized that all the prisoners were lined up in their doorways, watching as the guards led him away.
"So long, Jedi!" someone called out.
"It was nice knowing you!" another sneered.
For a minute, the calls and farewells, punctuated by the occasional curse, bounced off the concrete walls. Everyone knew that he would not be returning. Somehow, Luke would have to be prepared.
The head guard yelled for everyone to be quiet, and once again the prison was dominated by the eerie, silent stares of the inmates, their faces lit with gruesome smiles as they watched Luke being escorted to his destiny.
Luke found himself being led to the showers, which was not unexpected. Certainly, Luke reflected, the showers were easy enough to clean up afterward. Somewhat strengthened by his brief nap, Luke put all senses on alert as he was led to the back of the showers.
Four more guards were waiting for him, along with five prisoners, a few of whom Luke had already had the pleasure of sharing a cell with. One lone bulb cast a cold blue light on the faces surrounding him. The five inmates took up positions around Luke, while the guards formed another ring outside them. Each of the guards had stun prods in their hands, but the prisoners were unarmed. An old-fashioned death by beating, Luke reflected. He took it as a good sign. It meant they still had no idea how to properly kill a Jedi, which gave him some time to come up with a plan.
While everyone stood around savoring the anticipation of beating him to a bloody pulp, Luke took the opportunity to appeal to the head guard. "Sergeant!" he called out confidently, his voice ringing with the Force, "I appeal to you as a servant of the law to call off the attack."
The other guards laughed, and one of the prisoners stepped forward, swinging a huge fist at Luke's head, which he avoided effortlessly.
"What attack, Jedi? I don't know what you're talking about!" the sergeant sneered.
Two men closed in on either side of Luke, trying to grab his arms, but he slipped between them. "How will justice be served by murdering me in prison? The people deserve a trial!" Luke tried again, as he eluded several more attempts at capture.
"Oh, justice will be served, all right, make no mistake about that."
All five of the men tried to rush him at once. "Your president believed in fair trials. She would not want this," Luke rebuked, once again dancing out of their grasp. He spun away from them, approaching the outer ring of guards, and one of them jabbed his stun prod into Luke's side. Luke sucked in his breath as pain coursed through him. His muscles temporarily seized up from the charge, and he could not avoid the men as they closed in around him. One grabbed his arms and held them behind his back.
"Don't you dare speak of our president!" the sergeant barked. "Don't you dare speak at all, filthy Jedi!"
Out of the darkness, a fist flew toward his face. Luke twisted away, and the man holding him took the blow. Okay, persuasion didn't work; time for action. Luke went on the offensive as the man holding him released his arms and fell to the floor. Luke turned and met one of the others charging at him with a fierce blow to the man's trachea. He sank to his knees, gurgling for breath. But before he could take out another prisoner, three guards rushed him with their prods. Three simultaneous charges could easily knock a person unconscious. Luke screamed in agony, his legs telescoping beneath him, but he did not black out.
The remaining prisoners, momentarily stunned by the ferocity of Luke's attack, now closed in on him once more. One of them hauled Luke to his feet, still moaning, while the other two used him as a punching bag. It took Luke several seconds to break free. He managed to land some punches of his own on one of the men, but he only rattled him. The man did not fall. One unarmed Jedi against fifteen men were not usually such long odds, but the beatings he had already received had weakened him. He still eluded most of the prisoners' attacks, but each blow took its toll. Even if he did somehow manage to take out all the prisoners and the guards, he would barely have enough strength to drag himself out of the showers, let alone escape.
Luke's knees trembled, and he could no longer hear the taunting and laughter of the guards. Time slowed down, not with the clarity of battle sense, but with the numbing approach of death. A bright light flashed before Luke's eyes, but was it the shock of a stun prod or the realization that he would not survive this battle? Although he somehow remained standing, Luke could feel himself falling inward, sinking into the welcoming arms of oblivion. If only he could rest, if only....
That was it! A Jedi trance! As the idea lanced through his brain, everything around him snapped back into real-time. With a surge of adrenaline, Luke twisted and slipped his way through his captors, giving him precious moments to plan.
A Jedi trance would put him into a state to all appearances like death. Unless they ran a medical exam on him, they would never know the difference. Eventually they would figure it out, but until then it could buy Luke more time, and even begin his healing. That is, if the trance fooled them and they didn't keep beating him. Or they didn't decide to snap his neck or put a blaster bolt through his brain to make certain. Or decide to incinerate him immediately, or lock him up in the freezer overnight. Once in the trance he would be completely defenseless.
And how would he get out of it? He could set up a verbal code to snap him back to consciousness, but who would be likely to say it? It would have to be a phrase no one would use poking around him in the first few minutes of the trance, but which someone hopefully would use before they disposed of his body. "He's dead," "Time of death...," these phrases seemed too risky.
Of course even without a wake-up phrase he would eventually come out of it anyway, but he could be out for mere minutes or for weeks without a phrase. And then there was the concern that he wouldn't be able to enter the trance correctly. A Jedi should be a state of calm before entering a trance, but exhausted and in the middle of a fight, any number of things could go wrong. He might not go deep enough into the trance. He could mess up the wake-up code. He could send himself into a genuine coma, even death itself.
But he was running out of choices, even as he was running out of time. His course decided, Luke had to make it look good. He slowed down his evasion, allowing several punches to land. He swayed unsteadily, arms hanging loosely at his sides, as one of the prisoners, growling with blood lust, threw a solid punch straight into his face. In the instant before it landed, Luke flashed out a Force projection to all the men in the room, "Death!" Then he felt the fist connecting with his nose in an explosion of broken cartilage and blood. Luke whirled and slammed up against the wall of the shower, then bounced off and slumped to the floor, lifeless.
The prisoners got in several kicks to his body and head before the sergeant waved them back. "Stop!" he ordered. Everyone watched Luke, but he didn't move. The sergeant approached him and prodded him with the stun. Luke's muscles contracted reflexively from the charge, but he made no sound or voluntary motion. The sergeant knelt down and inspected him. Luke's nose was smashed, and his collision with the wall had opened a huge gash on his forehead. The sergeant felt for a pulse, but found nothing. He looked at his comrades, a smile on his face. "He's dead." He nodded at the prisoners, panting heavily above him, their eyes still blazing with the heat of battle. "You boys did a good job. We won't forget it."
He stood up again and flicked his hand at five of the guards. "Kindly escort these gentlemen back to their cells. The rest of you, carry this deadwood to the infirmary."
As the first group rounded up the prisoners, offering their congratulations, the rest of them hoisted up Luke's body between them. They carried him into the infirmary and laid him out on one of the examination tables. The doctor on duty, who had been expecting them, asked, "Want me to declare him dead now?"
The sergeant shook his head. "No, leave it until morning. We'll say we found him dead in his cell." He glanced at one of the other guards. "You'll take care of the vid tapes?"
"Already done," came the reply. "We won't let that lawyer get away with it twice."
The sergeant looked back down at Luke, just as the doctor pulled a sheet over the Jedi's face. With a satisfied smile, he pronounced, "That's it, then. Gentlemen, I hope you have a very pleasant night."
They chuckled, congratulating each other and patting each other on the back as they left the room. The doctor locked the door so no one would disturb the body, and they all returned to their posts. It would be a pleasant night indeed.
Luke Skywalker was dead.
Akeeno had been avenged.
Chapter Ten: ReleaseFirst thing in the morning, Mara, Han, Chewbacca, and Apurta appeared at the Judge's office. True to her word, the Judge had the papers for Luke's release in hand. She had even taken the liberty of engaging a police escort, something Han in particular chafed at, but which nevertheless was probably a good thing to have.
They arrived at the prison, where the warden came to meet them in the lobby, almost as if she were expecting them. Several guards accompanied her. She had a contented look on her face that made Mara uneasy.
"We're here to get Luke out," Han announced, holding out the papers. "The Judge reconsidered and granted him bail. You are instructed to release him into our custody immediately."
The warden's smile grew chilly. "I am sorry, but it is my sad duty to inform you that Luke Skywalker was found dead in his cell this morning."
Mara felt as if her heart had been swallowed up by a black hole that suddenly appeared in the center of her chest. She could not move. Han blinked twice in incomprehension, then scowled, "Look, I don't know what kind of game you're trying to pull --."
Calmly, the warden interrupted, "I assure you this is no game. During the night, his cellmate beat him to death. I am truly sorry," she said, in a voice which clearly did not mean it.
The black hole in Mara's chest began to grow, then was shattered by an ear-splitting howl as Chewbacca screamed in grief. Han leaped for the warden, his hands closing around her throat before she could get away. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you, you bastard!" he shrieked, as the guards and the police escort scrambled to pull him off the warden. One of the guards got Han in a choke hold, while two others pulled at his arms, but Han did not release the warden. "Let her go," one of the guards yelled, "or I'll be forced to arrest you."
More guards poured into the room, weapons drawn, as Mara saw that Chewie was about to go to Han's aid. "Stop it!" she ordered, the words ripping out of her throat. "Chewie, stop it! There's no point!"
Somehow Mara's words got through to them. Chewbacca continued to moan, but he did not attack the guards, and Han finally released the warden, who backed off, gasping and rubbing her sore neck. Apurta stood back to the side, clutching her briefcase to her chest.
Mara let rage fill her to replace the grief. Rage she could deal with. She rolled her wheelchair up to the still trembling warden. Only the iron clad will of the Emperor's Hand could hold back all Mara wanted to say, all she wanted to do. For one full minute she let her laser green eyes bore into the warden, through her bravado, to the deepest core of her soul. The warden could feel Mara's anger branding her psyche forever. At last Mara spoke, her voice like shards of glass. "You have no idea what a serious mistake you have made."
The warden shuddered, then said, "Is that a threat?"
"It is a statement of fact. Now," Mara rolled even closer, "I will see my husband."
Any protest the warden might have made was burned away by Mara's fiery gaze, and she relented, nodding to one of the guards. The man moved to take the handles of Mara's chair, but she propelled herself out of his grasp. Silently, he gestured her through her door and led her down the hall to the infirmary.
Mara saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing, as she rolled down that long hallway to a destination she could not bear to face. Why can't I feel anything? her innermost voice cried out. Why didn't I feel his death? Perhaps she would never feel anything again. It seemed as if the Force itself had left her.
The guard opened the door and pointed her through. There, stretched out on a table, lay a figure shrouded in a white sheet. The sight hit her like a kick to the gut and the black hole in her chest began to grow again. She could not enter the room.
Noticing her distress, the guard silently wheeled her into the room up to the table. He then took up a position next to the door, but Mara rasped, "Leave me," in a voice that could not be disobeyed. He exited and shut the door, leaving her alone.
The minutes dragged by, and Mara sat silently staring at the figure before her. She was never afraid of anything. She, Mara Jade, never avoided any reality, no matter how unpleasant. But this she could not face. You see what you've done to me, Sweets? My heart is actually breaking. Who'd have thought it?
The black hole burst again, melting over her body, warm and liquid, like blood, freeing her to move again, to breathe, to cry. Hot tears filled her eyes, and she drew the sheet down, uncovering his face. She didn't wince at the sight. She scarcely saw his bruised and battered features. She only saw the man she loved, lying there peacefully sleeping. Gently, she laid her head on his chest, her arm cradling him. He felt so warm, so soft, so comforting….
With a shock, she sat upright. Warm? Soft? She searched his face. Deeper, she searched him with the Force.
Alive. He was alive. A trance! Of course, why hadn't she realized it before? No wonder she hadn't felt his death – he wasn't dead. And she knew exactly what words he had set up to wake him. The same words she had given him when they almost died at the Emperor's hidden fortress, where he'd impulsively proposed to her while they awaited certain doom. Certain doom which they somehow always managed to elude. A smile welled up from the bottom of her soul and blossomed on her face as she said, with sly affection, "I love you, Luke."
Instantly his chest rose with an intake of breath, and his eyelids fluttered briefly before opening. His eyes homed in on hers.
"What a flair for the melodramatic you have, Skywalker," she smiled at him. "And I thought you Tatooenes were supposed to be simple people."
"I must spend too much time hanging around Corellians," he replied.
She gently brushed the hair from his eyes. "Speaking of which, Han almost murdered the warden."
"Good for him." Luke coughed, then moaned in pain. The trance had not healed him much. He had trouble focusing, suggesting a concussion, and he suspected several of his ribs were cracked or broken.
Mara's eyes narrowed in concern. "You're in bad shape, Sweets."
"I know," he wheezed.
"Never fear. We convinced the judge to release you on bail. We're taking you out of here."
Luke managed a smile. "That's the best news I've had in a long time."
"Then let's get going." She wheeled away from the table and flung open the door, startling the guard outside.
"All the prison guards I've ever known together didn't have the brains of a mynock among them," she sneered, "but I would have thought even you could tell a dead man from a live one."
The man stared into the room to see Luke rising gingerly from the table. All color drained from the guard's face, as if he truly had seen a ghost.
"Now bring his things immediately," Mara ordered. "I'm taking him out of here."
Chapter Eleven: The Call"Look at these bills!" exclaimed Amil Aajulon, acting President of Pamylasia. "I can't believe how much it's costing us to keep that murderer in custody. And in a safe house, no less. Please, explain to me again why we're keeping him in a safe house, with all these expensive guards and roadblocks and --."
Chief of Security Bopolur sighed and said for at least the third time that morning, "Because the security risk at the hospital was too high. Protesters and would-be assassins kept breaking into the hospital. It was disturbing to all the real patients. So as soon as Skywalker was able to walk, they kicked them out. No hotel would take him, for the same reasons, so we have to put him up in a safe house."
"At great expense to the public, and all because that stupid judge let him out of prison," Aajulon grumbled.
Imo Nuredeen, one of Akeeno's most trusted advisers, shook her head. The morning was not going well, and she didn't know how much longer she could endure Aajulon's temper tantrums. "He was almost killed in prison. The judge had to let him out."
"It's ridiculous," Aajulon protested. "Now we must protect the man who killed our president? Don't get me wrong, but part of me wishes he had died. At least then our problems would be over."
"Skywalker's death will hardly solve our problems," Nuredeen observed. "We're still only a fledgling democracy. In addition to all the problems of an exploitive economic system, the inequitable distribution of resources, the lack of education and poor employment rate --."
"I know, I know," Aajulon interrupted. "And the new election to replace Dimi is only five months away, and we have this trial with this murderer whom we must billet at our expense...."
Aajulon's laundry list of complaints was cut short when the door to the Cabinet chamber opened, and an older man walked in, his face care worn and sad. He was dressed entirely in white, the color of mourning. Upon his entrance, everyone in the room stood up.
Aajulon approached him, arms open in welcome. "Radu, you honor us with your presence. But after all you've been through, you really should not trouble yourself with these Cabinet meetings."
Akeeno's widower clasped Aajulon arm in greeting. "It is no trouble, really. It provides something of a distraction. I don't mind being asked to come."
Aajulon raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Asked?"
"I asked him to come," Nuredeen volunteered. "Radu's opinions have always been of great value."
Trying to hide his disquiet by ushering Antiradu Akeeno into a seat, Aajulon said, "Yes, of course. But we're discussing subjects which must surely cause him great pain."
"What can possibly cause me more pain than the loss of my wife?" Radu observed as he took the offered seat. "Except perhaps the disintegration of all that Dimi and I tried to build on Pamylasia."
"Quite so," Aajulon agreed. He fell silent, not certain how to resume business. "Perhaps we can come back later to the topic we were discussing."
"Actually, I would like to hear what Radu has to say about Skywalker's situation," Nuredeen interjected.
Radu flinched slightly at the name, but displayed a genuine concern. "You mean, what happened to him in prison?"
"Rather, what we should do with him now," Aajulon explained. "We are forced to pay for the expense of keeping him in a safe house, money which could be going to the people."
Nuredeen observed, "Erison Tamalan is calling for his release into the custody of Republic Security Forces. It would take him off our hands and hopefully help defuse the situation here."
"That obnoxious reporter!" Aajulon fumed. "She always was a troublemaker."
The sudden stony silence in the room made Aajulon realize his mistake. Shocked, Radu Akeeno said, "Erison was one of the few journalists who dared to report the truth during the reign of the Barons. Her coverage of conditions in the prison system were what helped keep Dimi alive all those years."
Cautiously, Aajulon said, "Of course. I meant no disrespect. It's just that...." He paused, searching for acceptable words. "Her stance on this particular issue is rather troublesome. And she is not making us look good to the Galactic Republic."
"Is the purpose of the press to make us look good, or is it to expose the truth, especially those truths which we would prefer remained hidden?"
Everyone remained silent, chastened by Radu's gentle rebuke. At last Nuredeen spoke up, "What do you think we should do about the Jedi, Radu?"
He considered the question carefully before answering. "I think Erison may be right. I am the first one who wants to see this man held accountable for his crime, but having him murdered in prison is just as great an injustice as my Dimi's death." Several audible gasps greeted this stunning statement, and Radu turned a disapproving look on those Cabinet members who seemed to take exception to what he had said. "Dimi herself knew full well what it was like to suffer injustice at the hands of a corrupt criminal system. She believed that everyone had the right to a fair and just trial. Anything else is a desecration of all she believed in and fought for." He turned back to face Aajulon. "Let Skywalker go. The Republic has almost as much at stake in seeing that he comes to trial as we do. If they were to try to get him off without a trial, it would destroy their own credibility. They have to demonstrate that the Republic demands justice even from their 'honored protector.'"
Aajulon was not exactly pleased with this advice, but after all, it would mean the government would no longer have to pay for Skywalker's upkeep. "I will consider what you have said," he announced last. "Bopolur, I want to see a recommendation from you, reflecting costs, security risks, and any other relevant factors." He paused and turned back to Radu, and said, not entirely with sincerity, "Thank you for your advice, Radu. It is helpful for us to hear what Dimi herself would have wanted. Now, I suggest we take a break and reconvene in the afternoon. We have many other matters to discuss aside from this Jedi."
Aajulon turned to confer with Bopolur, and the Cabinet members rose from their chairs. Nuredeen came around the table to Radu's side. "It is good to see you again, my friend, and I am very glad you took me up on my invitation to come."
Although his face was gentle, his eyes betrayed his pain. "Is this why you wanted me here?"
She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "No. It must have been difficult for you. Still, I appreciate your wisdom in the matter. Having you here is almost like having Dimi herself among us again."
"Almost," Radu agreed softly. "But not quite."
Nuredeen regarded him closely. "Would you walk with me back to my office? I do enjoy your company."
Radu agreed, and they headed leisurely down the hall, chatting about matters of no consequence, matters which would not give rise to painful memories. By the time they reached Nuredeen's office, Radu realized they had been joined by several other Cabinet members. "What is this?" he asked.
Nuredeen closed the door behind him, then gestured for him to take a seat. "We want to discuss Pamylasia's future with you."
The Secretary of Commerce, Olan Quiris, said, "As you might imagine, Aajulon plans to run for president. He would probably like to run with the Pamylasia People's Party, but if we picked another candidate, he will return to his original party."
"And return to his true roots," Nuredeen added. " Dimi was wise to choose him as her running mate. He brought many of the moderates in the Liberty Party with him. But without her, he demonstrates his own weakness. He has no vision for the future. He fears chaos."
"And to fight that chaos, he may strike an alliance with the Barons," Quiris concluded.
Radu stared at the others in astonishment. "You can't be serious!" he exclaimed. "Doesn't he know what they would do if they got back into power?"
Quiris shook his head. "No doubt he thinks he could control them. But remember, merchants such as the Liberty Party represents did fairly well under the Barons. It was an uneasy peace, but they made a lot of money. He probably imagines he could form a strengthening alliance with them the way Dimi did with the Liberty party."
"But that's insane. The Barons are not to be trusted."
"Of course not. But Aajulon would be the favored candidate to win, as Dimi's running mate," Queris observed. "Unless...." He raised his eyebrows at Radu.
Understanding dawned on him, and he raised his hands in protest. "Oh, no. You can't mean you want me to run."
Nuredeen only smiled. "I meant what I said before: having you is like having Dimi around."
"But I'm no politician!"
"And Dimi was just a factory worker," Nuredeen reminded him. "Radu, you were the one who kept her work going while she was imprisoned. Dimi rose to the occasion, and when she was jailed, you rose to take her place. You've always played down your role, but the truth is, you and Dimi are two sides of the same coin."
Quiris interjected, "What she did, you can do."
Radu considered their words. It made sense in a strange way, but he was still not convinced. "Imo, you are the one who really worked with Dimi. You should run. You know more about these things than I do."
"But I'm not well-known. Dimi's advisor? It may gain me some respect, but probably not the vote." She folded her arms across her chest and fixed him with her gaze. "Let me be frank with you. If people view anyone as Dimi's true successor, the inheritor of all her qualities and all that she believed in, it is her widower. In the crassest sense, having you as a candidate would play off their sympathies and loyalty to her. But you know I wouldn't put you forward as a candidate unless I had confidence in your ability to fill that role." She leaned forward in her chair. "I know you can be every bit the leader Dimi was."
Her confidence in him moved him deeply, but how could he take his wife's place? She had been a mere girl in the factory where he worked. When they married they had no dreams beyond one day starting a family. But she had soon become involved in efforts to unionize the factory. She became a leader in the struggle for more must working conditions, and from that she joined the effort to end the Barons' rule. Throughout her transformation from factory worker to revolutionary leader, Radu had stayed by her side, as her supporter and helper. And when she was imprisoned, he continued her fight. All those years, he was separated from her, but when she finally emerged a free woman, she had not changed one bit from the woman he'd married. He fell in love with her all over again. But their time together was too short, and he missed her now more than he ever had while she was imprisoned. He could never replace her. But neither could he fail her, especially now, when all she ever dreamed of threatened to crumble into dust.
"I will think about it," he at last relented.
Nuredeen nodded. "That's all we can ask of you. But I do hope you will accept. Pamylasia still needs Dimi, and her heart lives in you."