Disclaimer: Most of the characters featured are the property of G. Lucas.
No copyright infringement intended. I am NOT making any money with this.
ONLY TO BE ARCHIVED AT FANFICTION.NET
Timeline: Post- Vision of the Future, replacing Union
To M. For feedback, excellent company, fellowship in SW-madness and fun around the clock ;=) (Especially behind the wheel - I sure would like to see you with an X-wing!)
SPOILER ALERT: Planet of Twilight, Showdown at Centrepoint, Specter of The Past, Vision of The Future, Vector Prime as well as some later New Jedi Orders. (And naturally the Thrawn trilogy, how can anyone possibly avoid that? ;=)
WARPED UNIVERSE ALERT: For the sake of storytelling, Isard's not dead at all. Condolenses to those who get stomach cramps from the woman. I know what you're going through. Just thank the stars of Alderaan I didn't bring Callista back.
Star Wars: The Rising By Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi)
Luke sat back down at his desk. His desk. What a waste of good Osarian wood. But it wasn't the desk that bothered him. The truth was simple: this student puzzled him, and he worried if he'd made the right decision. Gavrisom had made the Senator sound like a regular troublemaker. But something was telling him there was more to it. As if Mara's behaviour suddenly had something to do with it.
He'd had strange premonitions before, and they usually proved themselves right, but sometimes in a very different way than he'd anticipated. Like the vision he'd had had of Mara prior to Nirauan.
Sometimes he was even worried about the amount of his time that thinking about Mara seemed to consume. Did she distract him even when she wasn't there? Yes. But it didn't take his edge off like with Callista, nor did it leave him worrying about her all the time, like with Gaeriel. He was perfectly aware what a capable person Mara was of taking care of herself. He only worried about himself - what if something happened to him? Would Mara simply go on as he had after the Emperor's death at Endor, or stop living, like he would do if Mara were no longer there?
Back to more acute matters. He'd sent a student to the task of assuring a Senator - of all creatures - of the importance of the Jedi. A student very unsure of herself but with implications of serious talent in unexpected areas. Unexpected even to the student in question? Even with all this working against his better judgement, it was his premonition from the Force that lulled him into assurance. Yes, Amarice would do just fine.
Admiral Pellaeon strolled along the bridge of the Judicator. His days had long been quiet, with nothing more to occupy him than petty squabbles over trade routes in the Outer Rim. He was glad he had been given this chance. Something had been telling him sinc ethe treaty that not all was lost, that there would be a way to governance in the way he wanted to see the galaxy governed. There had been a lot of good in the Emperor's ways - more good that he Pellaeon ever would have had the courage to admit to Councilor Organa Solo, the treaty negotiator from the New Republic's behalf.
Pellaeon was quite looking forward to a time when the word 'rebel' could be used again without remorse to address those in Coruscant, enjoying the Emperor's old palace as a cozy home for an inefficient, childlish way of power.
"A message for you, Sir," Lieutenant Daskin, a late creeped in the ladder of promotions, startled him by nearly uumping out of a corner, handing him a datasheet. "It's all here, Sir."
Pellaeon took his time reading the sheet. Then he got angry. "I was called through the Holo, and I wasn't contacted? What is this, Lieutenant? This isn't the Empire, this is a posture," he sighed, and made his way to the Holopad. After giving the assigned coordinates, he waited.
And he did not have to wait long.
"Admiral," a familiarly icy voice spelled out before even the picture was clear. First came the hem of the cloak, then the rest. "I do not appreciate this."
"My apologies, Master." He disliked the word, but with this sort one hardly had a choice. "It was merely the mistake of an officer in the code of order."
"A mistake, you say?" the voice sounded strangely enchanted by his words. "And what do we do with mistakes, Admiral?"
Pellaeon had never been one in favour of wordplay. He decided not to start guessing and making a fool of himself. "What do we do then?"
"We correct them," The hooded figure replied in a familiarly self-aware way Pellaeon had always assigned to Vader. But this figure also did something that caught him off guard. It laughed! It wasn't a full laugh, more of a mixture of an exhilarated sigh and a snicker. It made Pellaeon's stomach turn in its evident twistedness.
His confusion didn't last long, as he was forced to look to his left side where a thump was heard. Lieutenant Daskin had suddenly collapsed, choking his throat.
The whole command bridge stopped its duties, staring at the man is distress. There indeed was something dauntingly familiar in this.
"Very well, Master," Pellaeon commented dryly. It was nothing new to him, after all.
Daskin was already dead, lying limp on the metal floor. And as if his gruesome way of meeting his end wasn't enough, there soon came a cleaner droid, mistaking him for garbage and making a ridiculous scene of the man's death by trying to fit him inside a tiny dustpan.
But Pellaeon didn't let this odd scene intterupt his concentration. He had business to see to.
"I shall be passing on what you have supplied me with today. Then we shall see how good this Government truly is with dealing with unexpected turns."
"I am glad that you should keep us informed. Everything is ready on our behalf."
But before he could deliver the end of his speech full of sweet nothings and protocol, the figure was gone. It was so like them to use the Holonet where one could make both a dramatical appearance and an exit. They wished to use it despite the fact that the Holonet was easy to hook up onto as no conversation could be completely shut out from curious eyes and ears. Pellaeon sighed. Vanity.
He'd forgotten too much of what it was like dealing with a Sith.
Aboard the Millennium falcon, it would've been a vast understatement to say it was crowded. Bags, droids, Luke's students and 3PO swarmed everywhere as the ship made its journey in hyperspace along the Hydian way towards Yavin IV. Han cursed almost seriously this favour he'd granted Luke and glanced at his wife in the co-pilot's seat.
Apart from the stuffy air as the life support system wasn't really built for nearly twenty people - humans and other - Han enjoyed the liveliness. As Chewbacca was visiting his family it was nice to be with others - with so many years of companionhood with the wookiee Han was so used to having company he felt he couldn't function properly without it.
The fact that Leia had had enough spare time to accompany them was a thrill that brought back a lot of memories. Not that he missed those times with Imperial chases into asteroid fields, danger and terror, but memories were memories and they weren't all bad. Unlike Leia who was like a krayt in the water when she could sink herself into diplomatic duties Han needed a little thrill every once in awhile.
The remnants of the Empire no longer posed a threat, with the peace treaty and all, and most of the pirate gangs now co-operated with Karrde's organization, the galaxy had suddenly become a lot safer. And, as harsh as it might've sounded, to Han - a lot duller.
Leia stretched. "Not long. I can sense them getting restless back there."
"With or without Jedi senses," Han commented dryly. He, too, had noticed the rising in the volume of conversation after their second course correction point.
Kyp Durron, the students' mother hen, as Mara had dubbed him, entered the cockpit. "Give me an X-wing anytime," he sighed, gazing out into the endless star lines beoynd the windows.
"It's not that bad," Leia answered. She, like Han, preferred the spaceous Falcon to the confined flagship Republic fighters, but understood Kyp's remark. There was a lot of Luke in this younger man. They were both skilled pilots and flew just about anything with excitement and spirit.
"Any news from Coruscant?" Kyp asked.
"Not really," Leia replied, "Everything's running smoothly for a change. I just hope Luke has got this Senate problem sorted soon enough. If things start brewing up again..."
"Don't worry. Luke knows what he's doing," Han commented, checking a reading which turned out to be a stray asteroid from the Zedyan belt. Old habits die hard. Back awhile most unexpected readings were always stray Star Destroyers.
Kyp dug out a ration bad from his pocket and ripped the plastic with his teeth. "I heard he's already got someone to teach Senator Gann some manners."
Leia turned in her seat to face Kyp. "Who?"
"A student. You'll know the name, Amarice Rieekan."
Leia looked puzzled. So did Han, just for the sake that he didn't want to be left out of the conversation.
"I know he's Carlist Rieekan's daughter, but that's all. A student? I'm not sure Luke understands ---"
Han cut in with his usual optimism. "Look, Luke's done some pretty dumb things but somehow he always pulls it off."
"I'm just hoping he doesn't pull the plug off this boat. He isn't much of a politician", Leia added somewhat sadly. She'd heard the story, of course - two Jedi storming out of meetings wasn't everyday talk even in the Intergalactic senate. Fey'lya had been exhilarated - more mynock soup to stir.
Han was surprised. It wasn't like Leia to judge anyone so harshly. Maybe this thing with the senator really was a big one.
"I heard Rieekan's been around the praxeum for long and that most of the students who began with her are here now. Not much of a sabre user. But I trust Luke," Kyp summed, and started rapping his knuckles absently against the navicomp.
"Come on, Leia," came a cheerful voice from the pilot's seat; "It if gets all rotten you can always fly to rescue. Now relax, and enjoy the view."
"It's just starlines," Leia commented, irritated.
Han winked at Kyp, laughing. They both knew there was no changing Leia. The fate of the galaxy still rested on her shoulders, and the galaxy herself never had had any say in the matter.
************************************************'
Thank you for reading. Reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
Heidi Ahlmen
ONLY TO BE ARCHIVED AT FANFICTION.NET
Timeline: Post- Vision of the Future, replacing Union
To M. For feedback, excellent company, fellowship in SW-madness and fun around the clock ;=) (Especially behind the wheel - I sure would like to see you with an X-wing!)
SPOILER ALERT: Planet of Twilight, Showdown at Centrepoint, Specter of The Past, Vision of The Future, Vector Prime as well as some later New Jedi Orders. (And naturally the Thrawn trilogy, how can anyone possibly avoid that? ;=)
WARPED UNIVERSE ALERT: For the sake of storytelling, Isard's not dead at all. Condolenses to those who get stomach cramps from the woman. I know what you're going through. Just thank the stars of Alderaan I didn't bring Callista back.
Star Wars: The Rising By Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi)
Luke sat back down at his desk. His desk. What a waste of good Osarian wood. But it wasn't the desk that bothered him. The truth was simple: this student puzzled him, and he worried if he'd made the right decision. Gavrisom had made the Senator sound like a regular troublemaker. But something was telling him there was more to it. As if Mara's behaviour suddenly had something to do with it.
He'd had strange premonitions before, and they usually proved themselves right, but sometimes in a very different way than he'd anticipated. Like the vision he'd had had of Mara prior to Nirauan.
Sometimes he was even worried about the amount of his time that thinking about Mara seemed to consume. Did she distract him even when she wasn't there? Yes. But it didn't take his edge off like with Callista, nor did it leave him worrying about her all the time, like with Gaeriel. He was perfectly aware what a capable person Mara was of taking care of herself. He only worried about himself - what if something happened to him? Would Mara simply go on as he had after the Emperor's death at Endor, or stop living, like he would do if Mara were no longer there?
Back to more acute matters. He'd sent a student to the task of assuring a Senator - of all creatures - of the importance of the Jedi. A student very unsure of herself but with implications of serious talent in unexpected areas. Unexpected even to the student in question? Even with all this working against his better judgement, it was his premonition from the Force that lulled him into assurance. Yes, Amarice would do just fine.
Admiral Pellaeon strolled along the bridge of the Judicator. His days had long been quiet, with nothing more to occupy him than petty squabbles over trade routes in the Outer Rim. He was glad he had been given this chance. Something had been telling him sinc ethe treaty that not all was lost, that there would be a way to governance in the way he wanted to see the galaxy governed. There had been a lot of good in the Emperor's ways - more good that he Pellaeon ever would have had the courage to admit to Councilor Organa Solo, the treaty negotiator from the New Republic's behalf.
Pellaeon was quite looking forward to a time when the word 'rebel' could be used again without remorse to address those in Coruscant, enjoying the Emperor's old palace as a cozy home for an inefficient, childlish way of power.
"A message for you, Sir," Lieutenant Daskin, a late creeped in the ladder of promotions, startled him by nearly uumping out of a corner, handing him a datasheet. "It's all here, Sir."
Pellaeon took his time reading the sheet. Then he got angry. "I was called through the Holo, and I wasn't contacted? What is this, Lieutenant? This isn't the Empire, this is a posture," he sighed, and made his way to the Holopad. After giving the assigned coordinates, he waited.
And he did not have to wait long.
"Admiral," a familiarly icy voice spelled out before even the picture was clear. First came the hem of the cloak, then the rest. "I do not appreciate this."
"My apologies, Master." He disliked the word, but with this sort one hardly had a choice. "It was merely the mistake of an officer in the code of order."
"A mistake, you say?" the voice sounded strangely enchanted by his words. "And what do we do with mistakes, Admiral?"
Pellaeon had never been one in favour of wordplay. He decided not to start guessing and making a fool of himself. "What do we do then?"
"We correct them," The hooded figure replied in a familiarly self-aware way Pellaeon had always assigned to Vader. But this figure also did something that caught him off guard. It laughed! It wasn't a full laugh, more of a mixture of an exhilarated sigh and a snicker. It made Pellaeon's stomach turn in its evident twistedness.
His confusion didn't last long, as he was forced to look to his left side where a thump was heard. Lieutenant Daskin had suddenly collapsed, choking his throat.
The whole command bridge stopped its duties, staring at the man is distress. There indeed was something dauntingly familiar in this.
"Very well, Master," Pellaeon commented dryly. It was nothing new to him, after all.
Daskin was already dead, lying limp on the metal floor. And as if his gruesome way of meeting his end wasn't enough, there soon came a cleaner droid, mistaking him for garbage and making a ridiculous scene of the man's death by trying to fit him inside a tiny dustpan.
But Pellaeon didn't let this odd scene intterupt his concentration. He had business to see to.
"I shall be passing on what you have supplied me with today. Then we shall see how good this Government truly is with dealing with unexpected turns."
"I am glad that you should keep us informed. Everything is ready on our behalf."
But before he could deliver the end of his speech full of sweet nothings and protocol, the figure was gone. It was so like them to use the Holonet where one could make both a dramatical appearance and an exit. They wished to use it despite the fact that the Holonet was easy to hook up onto as no conversation could be completely shut out from curious eyes and ears. Pellaeon sighed. Vanity.
He'd forgotten too much of what it was like dealing with a Sith.
Aboard the Millennium falcon, it would've been a vast understatement to say it was crowded. Bags, droids, Luke's students and 3PO swarmed everywhere as the ship made its journey in hyperspace along the Hydian way towards Yavin IV. Han cursed almost seriously this favour he'd granted Luke and glanced at his wife in the co-pilot's seat.
Apart from the stuffy air as the life support system wasn't really built for nearly twenty people - humans and other - Han enjoyed the liveliness. As Chewbacca was visiting his family it was nice to be with others - with so many years of companionhood with the wookiee Han was so used to having company he felt he couldn't function properly without it.
The fact that Leia had had enough spare time to accompany them was a thrill that brought back a lot of memories. Not that he missed those times with Imperial chases into asteroid fields, danger and terror, but memories were memories and they weren't all bad. Unlike Leia who was like a krayt in the water when she could sink herself into diplomatic duties Han needed a little thrill every once in awhile.
The remnants of the Empire no longer posed a threat, with the peace treaty and all, and most of the pirate gangs now co-operated with Karrde's organization, the galaxy had suddenly become a lot safer. And, as harsh as it might've sounded, to Han - a lot duller.
Leia stretched. "Not long. I can sense them getting restless back there."
"With or without Jedi senses," Han commented dryly. He, too, had noticed the rising in the volume of conversation after their second course correction point.
Kyp Durron, the students' mother hen, as Mara had dubbed him, entered the cockpit. "Give me an X-wing anytime," he sighed, gazing out into the endless star lines beoynd the windows.
"It's not that bad," Leia answered. She, like Han, preferred the spaceous Falcon to the confined flagship Republic fighters, but understood Kyp's remark. There was a lot of Luke in this younger man. They were both skilled pilots and flew just about anything with excitement and spirit.
"Any news from Coruscant?" Kyp asked.
"Not really," Leia replied, "Everything's running smoothly for a change. I just hope Luke has got this Senate problem sorted soon enough. If things start brewing up again..."
"Don't worry. Luke knows what he's doing," Han commented, checking a reading which turned out to be a stray asteroid from the Zedyan belt. Old habits die hard. Back awhile most unexpected readings were always stray Star Destroyers.
Kyp dug out a ration bad from his pocket and ripped the plastic with his teeth. "I heard he's already got someone to teach Senator Gann some manners."
Leia turned in her seat to face Kyp. "Who?"
"A student. You'll know the name, Amarice Rieekan."
Leia looked puzzled. So did Han, just for the sake that he didn't want to be left out of the conversation.
"I know he's Carlist Rieekan's daughter, but that's all. A student? I'm not sure Luke understands ---"
Han cut in with his usual optimism. "Look, Luke's done some pretty dumb things but somehow he always pulls it off."
"I'm just hoping he doesn't pull the plug off this boat. He isn't much of a politician", Leia added somewhat sadly. She'd heard the story, of course - two Jedi storming out of meetings wasn't everyday talk even in the Intergalactic senate. Fey'lya had been exhilarated - more mynock soup to stir.
Han was surprised. It wasn't like Leia to judge anyone so harshly. Maybe this thing with the senator really was a big one.
"I heard Rieekan's been around the praxeum for long and that most of the students who began with her are here now. Not much of a sabre user. But I trust Luke," Kyp summed, and started rapping his knuckles absently against the navicomp.
"Come on, Leia," came a cheerful voice from the pilot's seat; "It if gets all rotten you can always fly to rescue. Now relax, and enjoy the view."
"It's just starlines," Leia commented, irritated.
Han winked at Kyp, laughing. They both knew there was no changing Leia. The fate of the galaxy still rested on her shoulders, and the galaxy herself never had had any say in the matter.
************************************************'
Thank you for reading. Reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
Heidi Ahlmen