~11~

Further Chaos

Chief of State Leia Organa Solo was walking in the jungle when her comrades arrived on Terapinn.

It had been a long couple of days, watching their progress across the galaxy, wondering what experiences they were compiling into stories to add to their litany of odd and entertaining adventures upon their return. It gave her peace, following the glowing dot that was the *Jadesaber* blazing its way across hundreds of trillions of miles of space, seeing that it was always there, never veering off course, expertly piloted by its fragile human cargo. Carrying her brother away once more into dangers yet unknown.

She needed this sometimes, this refuge among the trees, when worrying became too tedious. She had been feeling rather miffed lately, having come to Yavin to escape the worry of her job for a few months, and finding in return that she had no choice but to once again worry for her family. She knew in her heart that they were still fine, that they weren't in danger yet, that the mission team was assembled of seven of the most competent people she could have named, but something – perhaps the numerous battles that had left her jaded and wary – reminded her never to assume that no news was good news. They had not had a transmission from the team since they had left Tatooine. And though the ship had still appeared on the radar screen, plowing determinedly ahead towards its isolated destination, the thought had occurred to her that ships will fly so long as they have fuel in their engines … pilot or none.

She cast her eyes to the cloudless blue sky above, the heat of the afternoon causing the forest canopy to shimmer behind a thin, opalescent sheen of haze.

A sign, she thought to no one in particular. I beg of you, some news of my brother, my children. Are they well?

Something seemed to twitch vaguely in the back of her mind; she turned, glancing quickly behind her. The path was deserted.

Are they happy? She wondered.

It appeared to be the wrong sort of question to ask, for in the next second, her Force sense seemed to go crazy.

A thousand desperate warning waves flashed through her mind, and her muscles sprang habitually into action. Attempting to duck and whirl around simultaneously, she launched forward from her knees, landing face first in the dirt, the force with which she hit the earth knocking her momentarily breathless. She put her fingers quickly between her teeth and bit down hard as her jaw connected with solid rock, and she lay there, stunned, as blood trickled between her knuckles.

Her breath was now coming in short, quick gasps. She felt sick, horribly sick, and panic was rising quickly in her throat as her senses continued to waver. She felt vulnerable, as though she was lying alone in the midst of a crowd of thousands, all swarming about her, lost, confused. She could hear their footsteps, feel their bewilderment.

Anger coursed suddenly through her, thick and stifling, and a strangled yell escaped her lips. Shadows were moving in her rapidly darkening vision, darting through the trees, but only shadows. Their owners were absent; Leia blinked sweat from her eyes, and her sight cleared.

They were present still, hundreds upon hundreds of them, fleeing some unknown enemy. Some were running very close to where she lay – she wondered briefly if they were only visible to her, if they signified the onset of some unforeseen middle-aged madness, but a dry, disbelieving sob issued forth from her as she saw a multitude of birds taking frightened flight, color bursting up through the sheltering canopy, fleeing the fleeing.

Leia huddled close to the ground, covering the back of her neck with her hands, even though it had dawned on her that she was invisible to the shadows quickly disappearing into the thick of the jungle.

A ringing was starting up in her ears that rapidly rose to the pitch of frenzied screaming. The sound sent shivers raking violently up her spine. It was the sound of terror, the sound of battle. The voices were indistinguishable – they were not screaming words. At least, not yet.

Straining her ears though it pained her to do so, she listened desperately for some utterance of explanation, some reason for this occurrence, and almost as though it had been scripted, something began to run just as frantically in her mind.

It was a singular voice, angry and frustrated, but she couldn't determine its origin from the figures racing past. It rose above the screaming, she had it pinned down … it resisted, but there was a moment of twisted enlightenment during which Leia dared to look up from the ground, and saw someone very real, very solid, darting through the trees at the side of the path, fighting the hedges and the brambles. A woman, clad in black, with a cowl pulled over her face, hiding her identity.

Then, as Leia watched, she stumbled, and the cowl slipped backwards, revealing a flash of dark blonde hair, the glint of sunlight off square eyeglasses, and the voice burst into her head, powerful and present and afraid.

They stole us. They locked us up.

Leia leaned into the ground, leaned into the voice as it materialized. It had a quality of innocence to it, like a child trying desperately to explain an injury or argument through the urgency of their own panic.

Hundreds of us …

Leia!

Leia's head shot up again. A new voice had joined the confusion inside her aching head: Luke's. Panic surged through her. Was this cry the instantaneous connection of two Force-sensitive, twinned minds, or simply a remembrance, ingrained upon her memory from the numerous times her reckless brother had called on her for help?

The vision of Cloud City came to her, that moment of desperate illumination when he had first reached her through the distraction of her panic to call her to the real need of the moment – his immediate rescue from where he hung, in grave danger of spiraling away into nothingness, burning up in the oblivion of terror.

Hundreds of us …Jedi?

The voice was back, sounding confused at the words it was forming. Again, Leia thought of a child, who has been told to repeat words they are unfamiliar with. The thought brought tears to her eyes as she thought wistfully of Anakin, her little echo.

"Enough!" she hissed aloud, biting her lip. "I've heard enough."

They took everybody, us too.

Us? The children? Tears burned at the corners of her eyes.

We're all gone …we're all here …

"Please!"

All here …

The voice pressed insistently at her, as if she should know where 'here' was, who 'they' were, what in the galaxy had happened. She stared straight ahead through eyes blurry with tears.

The flickering shadows began to lengthen and vanish, one by one, winking out like the lights of a building into the night.

Then, with a last reminder – All here – they had disappeared. The voice, the pain, the shadows, the confusion, all of it had evaporated in the heat of the afternoon, and Leia was still lying stretched out on the ground, panting hard.

She had only the strength to roll over onto her back, gazing blankly up at the canopy, which began to spin, a muddle of yellow and green and the deep, inviting blue of the sky, and Leia was sinking into it, the heat and the fragrance. Then she was gone, and knew no more, until the seconds lengthened into minutes, and the minutes into hours, and she was missed at the temple, and people were shaking her awake.

There were hands at her elbows, hands at her knees, voices in her ears, but real voices. There were tangible presences at her side, concerned murmurings issuing forth from them as something liquid was forced down her throat, as she was pulled into a sitting position against her will.

"Han," she croaked, pulling her husband's familiar growl from the jumble of sound. "Something's gone wrong … I could hear him, they're in trouble, someone's in trouble, some people are in trouble –"

Someone clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the flow of words. She opened her eyes, flailing her arms involuntarily, but there were more arms binding her, picking her up, carrying her away down the path. Heat seared behind her eyelids; she let her head fall back against a chest. Comprehension flooded back to her. She was being taken to sickbay.

The arms binding her own to her sides to stop them flailing belonged to her husband – she perceived his familiar scent of cigarras and cologne. Her son, Jacen, was carrying her feet, while Cilghal, the Mon Cal nursing assistant ran alongside them. All were talking in hushed, concerned tones while the trees whispered and gossiped overhead.

"Han, I'm so sorry," Leia sighed, "so sorry for all of this …"

"Shh," Han said. "You don't know what you're saying."

The footsteps of the strange envoy became more measured as they found solid ground: they were on the landing pad; they were racing her towards the hangar bay.

"I have to tell you …"

"We know," Jacen assured her, sounding oddly strained. "We know everything."

"What's happened?" Leia moaned.

She was being carried into the cool darkness of the temple; time was melting away in vast blocks. She was being laid upon a gurney in the sickbay, Cilghal's rubbery hands were fumbling upon her forehead, her neck, feeling for the severity of her pulse, the reason for the sweat running in rivulets down her face.

"There's been an accident," Han said, his voice unusually strangled. "The *Jadesaber*'s vanished from the radar screen. We've lost them."