Chapter Twenty: Legacy
Mara slept until late that evening. Lanari was keeping watch by her bed, but Mara refused to discuss anything. Being naturally taciturn herself, this contented Lanari, but not another of the Masters. Faruccio soon arrived. Trained as a counselor, he wanted to get Mara to talk, but she only turned her face to the wall and remained silent. As eager as he was to help, Faruccio soon recognized Mara's need to be alone, and he departed.
She spent the rest of the next day in the same manner, three or four hours of sleep separated by brief periods of silent wakefulness. Mara had never been inclined to self-pitying behavior, but she seemed to have lost the will to fight, to do, even to be. Sleep provided a haven of oblivion where she could escape the unbearable reality her life had become.
Luke never came to visit her while she was awake, and if he came while she slept he left no message. Far from disturbing Mara, Luke's absence offered her some comfort. Early on in their marriage Luke had learned that Mara preferred to fight her own battles on her own terms. When something bothered her Luke just kept out of the way. In gratitude for this respect for her privacy, Mara had promised that she would always return to Luke and patch things up afterward. Never before, however, had their arrangement been so severely tested.
As on Myrmidon, Mara had signaled her need for space with the cruelest of words. What confused Mara was that while every word, every thought, every feeling was true, somehow there was a greater truth which contradicted the words. Did Luke understand that? Had he understood that her rejection on Myrmidon had really been anger at their captors for forcing Luke into a situation that was bound to destroy him? Did he understand now that her declaration that he was a curse really meant that she loved him more than she could bear?
Mara had always taken for granted that Luke would understand the truth behind her occasional withdrawals. He had never resented them anyway. But now Mara realized how absurd and hurtful her actions were. Now more than ever Luke needed her. Now more than ever, especially since she might lose him forever, she needed him. Yet she could only lash out at him, cut herself off from him, waste precious time she might spend with him, lying instead alone on a bed in the infirmary. Why? And yet how could she reach out to comfort him when the storm of emotion raging in her heart threatened to choke the very life out of her? So she retreated into sleep.
At one point Mara woke to find Leia sitting next to her bed. She had no idea what time it was, or even what day of the week. She only knew it was not time for her to speak. When she saw Leia she turned her face to the wall, as she had done to all her other visitors.
For several minutes Leia, like Lanari, was content to endure Mara's silence. Mara respected Leia, but she secretly feared that she didn't live up to Leia's excruciating standards for her brother. She distrusted all Leia's expressions of welcome and sisterly love as diplomatic doubletalk, and the two had not grown particularly close since Luke and Mara's wedding. Mara prayed Leia would just go away.
But Leia would not give in so easily. Nor would she remain silent. When she at last spoke, her words were gentle and quiet, so quiet that Mara found herself straining to listen. "I know what it's like to lose your whole world, to not be able to face the future, and to blame yourself for the loss. In fact," Leia's voice tinged with a lighter note, though not of levity, "what you're going through now has a name. Psychologists call it 'the Organa Syndrome.' It's an unusual distinction, to have a psychological trauma named after you."
Mara absorbed these words, letting them sink through her defenses. No one ever used Alderaan as a metaphor for their own pain around Leia. No trauma could compare to the loss of one's entire homeworld. For Leia now to compare Mara's impending loss to that of Alderaan was not the tactic of a diplomat but a rare and heartfelt expression of empathy. Mara recognized it, and she accepted the gift as it was offered. She had never discussed Alderaan with Leia, but now she responded to the invitation. Perhaps Leia could help her after all.
"How did you survive it?" Mara asked.
Mara heard the movement of Leia's shoulders as she shrugged. "We were in the middle of a war. I was too busy to think about it much. You can't meditate on much of anything when you're constantly running for your life. And when my life finally slowed down a bit," not, she reflected, that it ever had slowed down that much, "by that time the pain had faded enough to become bearable. Not forgotten, never absent, but ... endurable."
Mara could feel the tension curling again in her stomach, and she spoke more harshly than she meant to, "So, what, I'm supposed to go out and wage a war against someone?" But her anger faded off as soon as she spoke, and more pensively she reflected, "That's the oddest thing, though. In the old days I would have responded with a battle plan, but now ... I don't want to fight anyone. I don't blame anyone -- Akeeno, the Pamylasians, anyone. We all just seem to be victims here. The Pamylasians are right to be outraged and to burn Luke in effigy. He killed their President. They have every reason to execute him." There was no resentment in her heart, only sadness. "So justice will be served, and he will die. And my heart will die with him."
Leia steeled herself against Mara's grief, for fear it would unleash her own. She couldn't imagine that any court in the galaxy would actually order Luke's execution, but Pamylasia had been isolated from the galactic scene for decades. How could they not demand the life of the man who killed their President? Unthinkable, yet all too probable.
"How can I replace him?" Mara resumed speaking, her voice flat and emotionless. "When the Emperor died, I replaced him with hate -- hatred for Luke. It wasn't that hard to lose the Emperor, but then I'd never loved him. It was the power I cared about. But with Luke it's all about powerlessness: surrender, self-giving, all the things the Emperor told me were weaknesses. With Luke they are strengths. I gave up everything to marry Luke, all my beliefs about independence, strength, power, and I was glad to do it, to learn a new lesson. But now how do I go on without him? What will replace my love for him?" She let out a short laugh. "Another husband?"
Leia's mouth twisted in a smile. "They don't make too many like him," she conceded.
Mara turned over on the bed so she could face Leia. Her eyes burning, she asked, "What if Han died? How would you survive it?"
Suppressing a shudder, Leia looked away. How often had she asked herself that question? With a sigh, she confessed, "I'm not really in the same situation. After all, Han and I have children. Granted, children are no substitute for a husband, but they are living legacy of our love. If Han died I would certainly miss him, but he would live on in the children. At least I would have that."
Mara's gaze turned inward, and Leia knew she had hit a sore spot with her. Mara picked absently at some lint on the bedcovers before the words dragged themselves out of her, a reluctant confession. "Luke always wanted kids, but I wasn't ready."
An unexpected surge of resentment coursed through Leia. Luke had wanted children as long as Leia had known him, although he seldom said anything about it. As an orphan, and with his complicated relationship with their father, something which Leia could never completely understand, Luke felt an irresistible need to be a father, something that went beyond the biological desire to pass on one's genes. While he relished being an uncle, Leia knew he secretly envied her and Han's role as parents. It had taken Luke so long to find someone to marry, why did it have to be one of the least maternal women Leia could think of? Because of Mara, Luke would die childless.
Violently, Leia seized hold of that line of thought and cast it out of her mind. She wasn't being fair to Mara, or even Luke, for that matter. They had not been married a year yet. Who expects to have children so soon? There were other aspects of love. Gently, Leia suggested, "You have your own legacy with Luke, even without children. Think about what that legacy is: the Jedi, the Academy..."
Shaking her head against the pillow, Mara demurred, "No, the Academy is Luke's legacy not mine." She sighed, smoothing the bedcovers with her palms, her hands coming to rest unconsciously on her womb. "It's too soon. We haven't been married long enough to have the kind of legacy you mean." With a resentful snort she said, "Our legacy is ten fucking years of indecision before we finally 'fess up and marry. Ten years we could have ...." She shook her head angrily against the pillow. "We finally get married, and now it's too late. If only we'd had a child…," she trailed off.
"Still, you and Luke have been friends for ten years, that's something. You do have a legacy with Luke, you need only to think of it."
"Spare me the platitudes, Leia," Mara rebuked. "It demeans us both. You were actually saying things before. If you can't say anything real now, then just be quiet."
Stung, Leia pursed her lips together, even though in her heart of hearts she knew Mara was right. As a diplomat, she knew how to find words for every occasion. But as a human being, she knew some occasions transcended words. This was one of those occasions. Perhaps that was why all of them were struggling so hard right now.
Mara turned back toward the wall. "Thank you for coming by, Leia. I really do appreciate it, but I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap now."
She was being dismissed. Leia hated that. "Do you have anything you'd like me to tell Luke?" she asked, though it was more to chide Mara than out of any real concern to act as messenger.
To Leia's dark pleasure, Mara's back stiffened. "No."
Leia stood, simultaneously despising herself for her cattiness, and desiring to punish Mara further. After all, wasn't Luke himself now languishing in a deep depression mirroring Mara's own? Why was Mara so selfish and hurtful toward him? Leia struggled to calm herself down, to leave Mara with a comforting word, but the conflict within her own feelings only grew. At last she settled for, "I'll see you again later, Mara. Rest well." Then with one last look at Mara's cold back, Leia left the room.
*****
Mara tried to rest, but sleep eluded her. Her mind worked furiously, chewing over what Leia had said, and the idea grew and grew in her brain until she could not resist it. A child! There was still time. The trial was still several weeks away, and who knew how long it would last. She could still become pregnant.
Mara buried her face in her pillow, confused by what she was contemplating. How would having a child Luke might never see help him? Surely these were all the wrong reasons to have children, a selfish desire to hang on to a loved one who had been lost. Parenthood should be more altruistic.
And who was Mara to become a mother? She of all people was ill prepared for the role. She had been far too young when the Emperor took her from her own family. She could not even remember them. How could she in all good conscience inflict herself upon any child as a single mother?
Yet despite all these and many other reasonable objections, the thought of having a child gave Mara the first stirring of hope since the whole ordeal began. If Luke could die knowing Mara carried the child he had always wanted, perhaps it could help atone for her inability to save him. And if she could no longer have Luke to love, she could at least love his child.
With this desperate plan now inextricably lodged in her brain, Mara at last had a course of action to take. She rose from the bed and dressed quickly, returning to their apartment without stopping along the way.
When she entered their quarters, Luke was not in the living room. She briefly feared that he might not be at home. She didn't want to have to track him down if he was with friends, or Han and Leia, even though he had every right to put her on hold as she had done to him so many times lately.
She went to the bedroom and pushed opened the door. Luke lay asleep on the bed, stretched out on top of the covers. She approached the bed quietly and eased herself down next to him, but he did not wake up. Asleep, he appeared relaxed and peaceful, all signs of stress erased from his face. She curled up next to him on the bed and savored the opportunity to study his face, his dimpled chin, the faint scars outlining his right eye, the long sandy eyelashes curled against his cheeks, and that ever unruly hair of his falling across his brow. She reached out and smoothed the locks off his face with a touch so feather light he still did not wake. She traced a finger along his eyebrow, down over the scar along his eye and across his cheek to tickle his dimple. He stirred slightly, and as she continued to stroke his face, he at last roused from his deep sleep. She smiled as his blue eyes blinked open to rest upon her.
For a long moment he said nothing, giving himself time to come fully awake and to absorb Mara's sudden presence near him. He began, " Mara, you are right about everything you said. I'm so sorry."
She hushed him, pressing her fingertip against his lips. "No more of that," she cooed. "We can't keep blaming ourselves or each other for this. If you had acted in any other way you wouldn't be you. I knew you were a sentimental softie when I married you," she smiled.
"But --."
"No. No more blame, no more apologies, no more abandoning you. Let's just ... move on."
Luke's eyes grew moist, but he refused to let the tears fall. He drew Mara into a tight embrace, nestling his face into her neck. He squeezed her almost painfully hard, but she knew she held him just as tightly. I want to hug him hard enough to absorb him into my body, Mara thought. I want him to become part of me.
She shifted in his arms, and he released her enough to let her pull back so they were again face to face, foreheads touching.
"I realize now is really not the time," Mara began, "and I know I'm going to say this all wrong...."
Luke nudged her. "No apologies, remember?"
Nodding, Mara took a deep breath and held it for several seconds before slowly exhaling. When she had calmed herself, she resumed, "Leia came to visit me earlier, and something she said got me thinking." Her voice wavered, both with the intensity of her need and with her uncertainty at how it would be received. "She was talking about how her children are a legacy of the love she shares with Han, and I thought maybe -- I mean I know this isn't a good time, but maybe we could ...."
She couldn't bring herself to give voice to her desire, but to her joy Luke again seized her in an embrace, whispering, "It's the perfect time. But is this really what you want? Are you ready?"
Pressing her face into his shoulder, she stammered, "Yes. I mean, no, I'm not ready, but when will I ever be? I do want it. I want most for you to be here, but if not ... if we had a child .... But is it what you want?"
He held her tighter. "Yes. But Mara what if it doesn't happen? What if there's something wrong? I mean, we're both getting along in years. Sometimes it takes time, and any number of things could go wrong. If you don't get pregnant, could you handle the disappointment?"
For some reason his anxieties only calmed her down. She pulled back from him again and wiped away her drying tears. "I know, and I'll deal with that if it happens. Meanwhile it will give me something to hope for." She favored him with a rakish grin. "And you know how I always need a project."
His eyebrows arched. "A project? You make it sound like making babies is hard work."
"I didn't say it wouldn't be a fun project."
He laughed, and Mara again marvelled at how the the sound lifted her spirits. "Well, there's no time like the present. What say we get started?"
Chapter Twenty-one: Judgment
News of Mara and Luke's reconciliation was greeted with tremendous relief by the residents of the Jedi Temple. Mara was rather renowned for her stoicism, and everyone had long been accustomed to Luke's calm steadiness, so to see the two of them in such an acute state of psychological trauma left everyone troubled and frightened. No one knew how to counsel Luke Skywalker, and no one would dare try to counsel Mara Jade, so they felt guiltily relieved when it appeared they might pull through on their own.
The Jedi Council had begun to consider canceling the examination altogether in light of the toll it was taking on Mara and Luke, but as the two of them recovered, the Council decided to proceed. The day after Luke and Mara's reconciliation, the Council met in their chamber to discuss all they had heard.
As the Masters settled into their chairs, Anath said, "We have had quite some time now to consider what Luke has told us, as well as what Corran and others have voiced at the examination. We may find we are not ready to reach a decision, but it seems appropriate now to discuss the situation and how we all view it." He paused. "Would anyone like to begin?"
For several long minutes, no one spoke. Anath looked around the circle, noticing that no one returned his gaze. Each pair of eyes was fixed on the ceiling, out the window, on the floor -- anywhere but at the faces of their fellows. Anath made the circuit three times before Lanari Barusch finally looked up. Her voice rang out in the quiet chamber. "It's clear to me that Master Luke was not motivated by the dark side. No matter what any of us would have done -- and I dare say we would have done different things for as many different reasons as there are people in this room -- Master Luke did not act out of evil. He did not act out of anger, revenge, even selfishness, but rather out of a desire to protect Mara's life. I cannot fault that."
Master Faruccio shook his head slowly. "He did not act out of anger? Did you not hear the anger in his voice when he spoke of protecting Mara? There was a defiance in him that is not appropriate for a Jedi."
Idi Athar quickly spoke in defense of Luke. "Surely a little anger is understandable. After all he was coerced into an impossible situation, one that will undoubtedly ruin his life. Just because he was defensive in the examination does not mean he acted out of anger when he killed Akeeno. Indeed, when he spoke of that it was with great sorrow."
"True," Faruccio agreed cautiously. "But I still find his own admission that he acted immorally to be disturbing."
Lanari demanded, "Do you want him to say he felt justified, that what he did was right? Surely not! It was a terribly ambiguous situation, and I don't think there was a right response."
Lanari's statement generated a palpable unease among those gathered in the room. Amidst a flurry of murmurs, Master Garamond protested in disbelief, "Don't you? Are you telling me that in his situation you would also have killed Akeeno?"
The questioned troubled Lanari, and she backed down, her eyes clouded. They had all asked themselves that question many times over the past few days, and Lanari took a moment to search her soul before answering. "I don't know," she confessed. "If Marquet were threatened...." She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut against such an unimaginable loss. Abruptly she shook her head. "But he isn't a Jedi. One could argue that I would be defending a civilian. I like to think I would protect Akeeno, but like Luke I feel loyalty to the people I know. I don't know that I could live with Marquet's death." She hesitated again, then shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know."
Idi turned to Garamond, her eyes holding curiosity and a challenge. "What would you do?"
Garamond sat up straight, his jaw clenched. "I would protect Akeeno," he stated with finality. "That is my duty." Then his posture softened, and he was forced to admit, "But then, I am not married."
Idi continued, "All right, then, what if it was Master Luke whose life was held in the balance against Akeeno's?"
"Master Luke would understand. He would want to protect Akeeno. Did he not say so in the examination?"
Idi turned her question on herself, and mused aloud, "If it were Master Luke, I think I would protect Akeeno." She hesitated. "I think. But if I were married, or if it were my child who was threatened.... My child I think I would protect."
His expression troubled, Garamond turned to the acting Master. "And you, Master Anath?"
Anath spread his hands, answering simply, "I am a pacifist. I cannot take life."
"Even if it were your wife or children at stake?" Idi demanded. She had never really understood Anath's beliefs. "Do you value your principle above their lives?"
"It's not so much a principle as it is who I am, how I was raised," Anath explained. "Pacifism is not merely an intellectual ideal to me. It is a way of life, central to my very identity. If I were to save the lives of my family at such a price, it would mean the severing of my very relationship with them. In killing someone, I would in a very real sense cease to be who I am, as a person, as a Jedi, and as the husband and father of my family. Perhaps it is the same way for Luke. Since he is not a pacifist, he has the option, some would even say the obligation, to kill in defense of his loved ones. In the examination he said that he could not love strangers if he could not love his friends. If he were to protect Akeeno by sacrificing Mara, it would destroy his relationship with Akeeno. It would destroy who he is as much as killing someone would destroy me."
With a questioning glance around the circle, Garamond asked, "What about the rest of you?"
But Hamsa Jerat had had enough. "We can play these guessing games forever, but ultimately they serve no purpose. The Jedi way is a way, a code, not a series of laws or rules. We do not believe there are right answers, only faithful ones. The question is: was Luke faithful?"
The Masters considered her words carefully, some more in agreement, some less. At last Faruccio responded, "He was faithful to his wife, perhaps. But was he faithful to Akeeno? To the people of Pamylasia? To the Jedi? I'm not so sure. Again we must consider the question of the greater good, which Master Luke so blithely dismissed."
"But he has a point," interjected Lanari. "How do we know for certain what the greater good is? People would certainly have said that killing Vader would have been the greatest good. But when Luke refused the obvious answer he opened the door not only for Vader's redemption, but for the Emperor's death and the downfall of the Empire in a way no one, not even Luke, could have predicted. Who is to say that if Akeeno had lived she might not have become a tyrant? Or the people might have grown dependent on her, or any number of unknown futures. But now perhaps the door has been opened for someone even greater than Akeeno to come forth."
Idi continued Lanari's argument, "And Mara's own destiny may hold a still greater potential which would have been thwarted had she died. I agree, the notion of a greater good has always been somewhat disturbing to me. Not the concept itself, but the idea that we know what it is. None of us can see the future with absolute certainty. Perhaps our claim to know the greater good is itself a form of dark side arrogance which sets ourselves up as the caretakers of the entire galaxy. I'm not sure the people of the galaxy would want us in such a role."
Slowly, Anath said, "You have a good point. The concept of a greater good has some value, but it can also be a dangerous form of arrogance." He paused, looking around the room. "So with that ethical dilemma discredited, we are basically back to the relative value of two individuals, Akeeno versus Mara."
Faruccio cautioned, "I'm not so sure that the greater good should be dismissed that easily, but I accede the point. However I disagree that we are not back to Akeeno versus Mara. Rather we are back to whether Master Luke acted from the dark side or not. I would be inclined to say he did not, despite the fact that I would have acted differently, except that Master Luke himself felt he acted from the dark side. Certainly there are enough ethical systems in the galaxy that what is ethical for some is unethical for others. That is why a Jedi must be faithful above all to her or his own understanding of the code and her relationship to the force. If Master Luke believes he acted evilly, then perhaps he did, regardless of what we all think."
For a long time no one spoke. While motives and circumstances could be very difficult to determine and sort out, Luke's straightforward confession that what he had done was wrong could not be ignored. To some extent, regardless of whether anyone agreed with Luke's own assessment of his situation, did not Luke's self-perception of evil itself signify the dark side? Even if one's motives are pure, the perception of evil could end up leading one down the dark path.
When several minutes had passed and still no one showed any sign of breaking the silence, Anath at last resumed the conversation that they were all so reluctant to have. "Your observation is indeed troublesome, Faruccio. But we must remember that even the Jedi are not all-powerful. Master Luke has been under tremendous stress. All these factors would make it difficult for him to view his actions in a calm, centered manner. If he could find clarity, perhaps he would understand his own motivations better."
"But a Jedi should be able to find the calm under even the most trying of circumstances," Faruccio averred.
"Should, perhaps," Anath smiled ruefully, "but even we are fallible."
Lanari added, "And Master Luke has always been very hard on himself concerning what he perceives as his failures."
Several of the Masters nodded, but the discussion again stalled. At last Anath asked "So where are we now?"
After another silence, Garamond spoke up. "I hear what you all are saying, and I take your words very seriously. But I still cannot accept the idea that a Jedi Master -- that any Jedi -- would consent to murder someone like Akeeno."
Hoping her thoughts would shed more light on the dilemma, rather than muddying an already complicated situation, Hamsa said, "Perhaps it would be helpful to consider if not the greater good, than the greater context. Master Luke did not act in a vacuum. Remember, he was coerced. There is a larger scheme at work here. Who wanted Akeeno dead, and why did they choose Luke to coerce in the manner they did? As disturbing as it may be for us to believe that a Jedi is not immune to manipulation, perhaps there is a lesson of humility for us, that even we can be caught in circumstances beyond our control. As Master Anath said, we are not infallible. Properly equipped and motivated, even the Force-blind may overcome us."
Still Garamond disagreed. "Certainly we must be humble, but Luke's situation could set a dangerous precedent. If we excuse Master Luke now, we are in effect saying that any criminal is free to manipulate and exploit the Jedi for their own purposes."
A trifle impatiently Hamsa accused, "Denial of our weakness is perhaps the greatest weakness of all. You're awfully sure of yourself, Garamond. Who are you and I to pass judgment when we come from those Jedi who let our fears of Palpatine drive us underground when the entire galaxy stood in need of our protection? Surely then we were manipulated into abrogating our responsibility. There are Old Order Jedi who even now believe that Luke has let himself be contaminated by his involvement with the galaxy. But that is always the risk we take, that we might be manipulated into using our power for the dark purpose of others. That is the greater context, that while Master Luke was the tool, his was not the will to have Akeeno murdered."
"But those others are not under examination here," Anath observed.
"No," Hamsa concurred, "but we should not forget them in Luke's examination. The Republic's citizens are protected from torture by the Treaty on Sapient Rights and the Convention against Torture. Do we deny this same right to Luke because he is a Jedi?"
"Of course not," Garamond said.
"Then why are we holding him responsible for his torturers' actions?" Hamsa asked.
Again no one spoke. It seemed Luke's situation was entirely without precedent in the New Order's experience. There were simply far too many complicated and ambivalent factors to be weighed in. How could they possibly untangle this knot?
With the conversation stalled, Anath checked in, "Okay, where are we now?"
Still the Masters remain silent. No one knew how to answer him.
At last, Lanari spoke out, with more certainty than anyone had demonstrated in a while. "Master Luke did not act on the dark side," she pronounced firmly. "Nor was his conduct unworthy of a Jedi. While Akeeno's murder is a heinous crime, he acted under the influence of torture, placed in a situation where his powers were used against his will, a situation any of us could find ourselves in."
Slowly, hesitantly, but with a gradually increasing conviction, heads around the circle began to nod. But not all of them
Anath tilted his head toward Garamond. "And you?"
Garamond rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair, his hands clasped together in front of him. He bowed his head, deep in exploration of his own soul. When he at last looked up, his earlier certainty had evaporated, replaced with introspection. "Hamsa is right. The Old Order protected ourselves by not getting involved. Master Luke risks involvement, and that includes the risk of being manipulated by others. I still don't know that I would have acted the same way, but I certainly feel that I have no right to pass judgment on him."
Anath nodded, filled with compassion at a confession which must surely be difficult for Garamond. Then his gaze settled on Faruccio, his eyebrows raised in inquiry.
Faruccio nodded. "Hamsa has spoken wisely. I concur with her insight, but I am still concerned about Master Luke's own ambivalence, his belief that he acted from the dark side. He needs to reflect upon this entire experience and explore his own motivations. He must face all that was inside him during this time. Only then will I believe that he has faced his own darkness and overcome it."
Yes, Anath thought, but when will Luke have the chance for that kind of reflection? Aloud he said, "Anyone else?"
One by one, the Masters expressed their agreement. Anath sat back in his chair, releasing his pent-up tension in one long slow breath. "Masters, I thank you for your thoughts and wisdom in this very difficult matter. We all still have much to explore, not only with Luke but in our own souls. No examination ever truly ends, but we have reached a judgment. May Luke, and all of us, Jedi or not, see the wisdom of it, and be the better for this discussion."