Disclaimer: The characters used in this story (except Donick) belong to the Almighty Flanneled One, George Lucas and Lucasfilm. No money is being made. This is just all in harmless fun. Excerpts from the novelization of Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace written by Terry Brooks, the script from Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi written by George Lucas and Lawrence Kasdan, phrases from Come What May written by David Baerwald, and Your Song, written by Elton John and Bernie Taupin, have been used.

"I apologize, my lord. We've lost them. They seem to have jumped unexpectedly into hypersp-- " The man in the greenish-gray uniform gasps as if being choked, though no hand is laid upon his throat. The decoration on his chest signifies that he holds a high ranking in whatever government for which he works. He grabs his throat with both hands and collapses onto the floor.

"Apology accepted, Admiral," I hear someone say in a deep voice, followed by loud, raspy breathing.

Inhale . . . exhale . . . inhale . . . exhale . . .

I turn to my left and see a man with a black cape and helmet striding down the corridor, away from the man I know only as 'Admiral', whose body is being toted away by a pair of men dressed in simple black uniforms. The raspy breathing follows the dark man as he stops outside a door and enters a room.

I bolt after him to find out his identity because I feel a strange connection to him that I can't explain. The door slides closed right behind me.

In the middle of the room, I see a huge black sphere and the dark man punching a code into the keypad on the outside. A white zigzag line with squared points, appears around the center; the top half of the sphere is evidently being suspended due to the sequence the man had entered. Once the top is fully suspended, the man steps inside the bright white interior and sits down in a seat in the middle, facing me. He wears a full black mechanical suit. The chest plate has many buttons, controls, and flashing lights. His facemask protrudes in a snout over where his nose and mouth would be, cut off with a triangular grill from which the raspy breathing seems to be coming. A polished durasteel cylinder with activation buttons and handgrips hangs from his belt: his lightsaber. He lifts a black-gloved hand, activates a machine which takes the helmet and mask from his head, and leans temporarily out of my line of sight behind one of the "teeth" of the bottom half of the sphere. When he sits back up, I see his face clearly.

He is pale-complexioned and bald with many deep scars covering his whole head. He appears to be in his late forties to early fifties, though this approximation might be exaggerated due to the scarring and deep, purple bags under his eyes. When I look into his piercing blue eyes, a cold chill runs through me; this man is me. He is scarred extensively and considerably older than I am, but there is no denying it. This evil man is me.

Suddenly, the sphere starts to whir and the top half begins the journey to rejoin with the bottom half. The man gazes into my frightened eyes, sadness flooding into the space between us. Just as the sphere closes, a weak voice is emitted from the sphere: "This is your fate, Young One, if you give in to your hate and fear . . . "

I sat straight up, breaking out in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. I felt my face and head; there were no scars and my short-cropped hair, along with Padawan braid hanging behind my right ear, was still there. I closed my eyes and sighed in relief, wiping the sweat from my face and neck.

There was a stirring beside me, and I felt a hand on my bare shoulder.

"What's the matter, Ani?" asked a soft voice.

I opened my eyes and looked over to the source of the voice: the woman sitting up beside me.

Moonlight was streaming in through the window, illuminating her soft, perfect face. Chestnut curls hung lightly over her shoulders, little wisps framing her face. Her deep brown eyes examined me worriedly.

Padmé.

My Padmé.

I shook my head and said, "Just a bad dream. I'm all right, love."

She smiled sweetly and leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Okay then. You better get back to sleep. We both have to get up early." She kissed me again and settled back under the sheets.

I pushed my covers off and swung my legs around the side of the bed. I said, "No, I'm not tired anymore. I'm going to go for a walk; I need to get some air. I'll see you later, when we have breakfast with Obi-Wan and Jar Jar."

I started to stand up, but she grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. Wrapping her arms around my shoulders and resting her chin on my head, she said, "Be careful, Ani. You remember what happened the last time you went for a walk."

"Do I ever," I said, rubbing my still-sore left arm where I had been shot with a blaster by a gang of Rodians who tried to rob me. I turned around and looked deep into her eyes, holding her face gently. "I'll be careful, sweetheart. I won't leave you a widow." I grasped her left hand and kissed her ring finger, which held a golden band. Then I kissed her. As with every single time before then, I felt a flood of warmth come over me and a slight constriction in my chest.

I stood up and put on my dark brown Jedi tunic over my trousers, covered it with my black vest, and slipped into my dark brown, knee-high boots. I wrapped my nerf-hide belt around my waist and fingered the tube of polished metal that hung at my side: my beloved azure lightsaber which I had crafted myself as a culmination of my Jedi training. Wrapping my black cloak around my shoulders, I stepped into the cool night air of the city-planet, Coruscant.

I hailed a repulsorlift air taxi that took me to the Jedi Temple. The pyramidal building had four tall spires, coordinated to the cardinal directions, surrounding a central fifth one. The Temple had been set apart from the chaos of Coruscant's swiftly growing population and modernization, because meditation was a key practice in Jedi training. Quieting one's mind aided in the understanding of the energy field that surrounded, penetrated, and bound all life in the galaxy -- the Force. For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights had contemplated the Force so as to become one with it, to understand its will.

I took a turbolift up one of the spires to the floor where Master Yoda's quarters were located. I looked at the chrono on the wall down the hall; 3:17 in the morning, Standard Time.

I started to bring my hand up to the keypad to activate the signal that would alert Yoda to my presence. An inch away, I brought it down again. I thought to myself, What if he gets cranky because I woke him up? He's probably still not too fond of me because of that incident with the ancient transcripts. One day, I had been showing off with my lightsaber, spinning it around in the air dangerously fast. I lost control and it slashed through the pieces of durasheet that were the ancient transcripts. Luckily, they had been preserved in a special chemical and bonded right back together. I had still gotten stern lectures from both Obi-Wan and Yoda.

I shook my head and took a deep breath, pushing the button on the exhale. I heard the chimes inside the room and the sound of the diminutive, green alien stirring from his bed. In between the shuffle-shuffle-clack- shuffle-shuffle-clack of him walking to the door, with the help of his crooked gimer stick, I heard him grumble, "Too old . . . midnight gallivanting . . . pesky Padawans . . . three o'clock in the morning . . . "

The door slid into its pocket in the wall, revealing the revered Jedi Master. Upon seeing me, Master Yoda, more sleepy-eyed and hunched over than usual, said, "Padawan Skywalker, early in the morning, it is. Need something, do you, hmm?"

"Yes, Master Yoda. I had a troubling dream, and I wanted to know what you had to say about it."

He must have seen the glint of fear in my eyes, because he dropped the façade of slight annoyance he had at being awoken so early and ushered me inside.

Once seated in a couple of cushioned chairs, I recanted my dream to him. All the while, he nodded, a worried look shining though slightly in his dark eyes. When I was done, he rubbed his chin with the three digits on his hand, his large, pointed ears twitching gently. He stood up and paced around the room, his tiny cane clacking on the hard floor. He muttered to himself and sat back down.

"Feared this, have I, for a long time, Young One. This dream, had you, a glimpse into the future, it is."

"Wait," I interrupted. "So, I'm doomed to become this evil, cold man?"

Yoda chuckled. "Always in a hurry, you are. Learn patience, you must. Allow me to finish. A vision of one possible future, it may be. Jedi can see only one possible future. Always in motion and impossible to see, the future is, and Dark Side clouds everything. For certain, nothing ever is. Just a nightmare, it also could have been. Dwell on it not. Meditate on this, I will. Back to your quarters with you. Sleep, rest. Need it, you do, Young One."

I stood up, bowed, and left the room and the Temple.