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)
Amarice had slept surprisingly well, mainly due to the expanded relaxation routine she'd gone through the previous evening. After light sabre practice which had gone remarkably well - perhaps because this time she'd been pitted against a junior student, but a skilled one yet - she'd retreated to her quarters, and cleaned her clothes for the following day. She knew the senate - she'd been there for a school trip several times when she was little.
She paused in front of a mirror. She didn't want to appear to polished - in her opinion there should always be a rough edge to the Jedi. A Jedi's path could take him across almost any kind of terrain and the outfit was fitted to that. Some of it came from tradition, some from Master Skywalker, as most of the students liked to imitate the tight tunics of his youth. Amarice, on the other hand, had chosen more loose ones, more to the model of what female Jedi of the Old Republic had worn. Not too lavish or decorative, her robes were dark grey, her pants blue as well as her shirt. Her light sabre hung at its clasp in her belt, and her hair was in a plait.
She looked like a Jedi. She was not one yet, but perhaps this would take her closer. And maybe give answers to some of the questions that were driving her crazy out of meditation. There were just some things noone, apparently could teach a budding Jedi. The holocron could tell you a whole lot about past Jedis, and Master Skywalker along with the other Masters could give you the guidelines and practices of the order, but there simply was no guidebook to learning to think of yourself as a Jedi, to learn how to mix your persona with the Force. This was a road she'd have to find herself.
A short journey from the praxeum lay the Senate, right next to the Imperial palace. Amarice had no trouble finding Councilor Solo's droid - as she walked in it was making its apparently third speaker call for her. Slightly embarrassed, Amarice set out for the long walk of corridors to Senator Gann's office. The droid turned out to be quite a chatterbox. During the walk she heard everything it knew of the Senator, some rumours and personal opinions from Councilor Organa Solo included.
It seemed this Gann was new to the senate. According to Threepio, she'd risen to power rather swiftly as the head of a movement petitioning an increase in CorSec annual funds. Amarice wasn't aware of any problems in the Corellian system, but she recognized the symptoms: when everything was going too smoothly, people start yelling for security as they anticipate the peace can't be permanent. Senator Gann had ridden the wave, and now she was stirring trouble on her own in the Senate. Aside from a few insignificant budget suggestions, she'd already caused a diplomatic incident by proposing the occupation of Bastion as the sign of the Empire's defeat. She'd been outshouted, luckily. The remaining Imperial fleet wasn't strong, and the peace treaty had held, but they were still capable of stirring trouble for the yet-blooming Republic.
Threepio stopped, and gestured towards a door. Amarice pulled a deep breath and stepped in as the pressurized door opened, waiting to catch her first glimpse of the Senator.
But she was disappointed. There was noone. The hall which acted as a focal point for a large suite with five rooms was empty. Even the usually large coup of assistants and other pests that commonly accompanied Senators was absent.
"What now?" Amarice asked Threepio, who looked as confused as her. She was there at the right time - she could see the time from the screen of a data receiver.
"I do not know, Master Rieekan. Perhaps The good Senator has just been delayed."
Amarice popped her head through the double doors back into the corridor.
Delayed, indeed. Amarice turned her head just in time to see a group approaching. She stepped silently into the corridor to wait.
It was a sight. Five guards in full uniform, two assistant-looking young men, the Sullustan Senator who Amarice recognized from a recent news shot, and in the middle, a tall woman.
She was deeply engrossed in conversation, smirking at something the Sullustani had said, the feathers of her headdress flickering in the flow of air from the corridor ventilators. She was dressed in a black, ceremonial outfit which included a wide, supported lower part and a corset- like upper. It was embroidered with stones. The headderss consisted of a fan-like array of black aghren-bird feathers with every second of the bright red.
And she carried the dress very well, with no sign of swank.
They all stopped and parted at Senator Gann's door - a final confirmation that this woman indeed was Senator Mendya Gann of Corellia. She noticed Amarice standing at the door.
"Yes?"
What was she supposed to say?
"Senator Gann, I was told to meet you here at nine."
"Ah yes. The Jedi Knight. Please, let us in. I do not wish to speak in the corridor."
They entered and got seeted. The Senator ignored Threepio altogether, and sat down at a chair, taking off his headdress. She had strangely knotted dark brown hair.
"Senator, what can I do for you?"
"Jedi Rieekan - now that's going to open some doors in the future."
Not letting herself to be irritated by this punch line, Amarice shrugged. "Perhaps. Now I take it you needed some information."
"Quite right. First I would like to know my Luke Skywalker would send a student?"
Why had Master Skywalker told her that?
"Master Skywalker felt that this task at hand required someone who'd experienced the Jedi Order without the weight of the past." Amarice hoped this would suffice.
"And he didn't consider this matter important enough to attend himself? Skywalker seems to be quite sure of his stature."
"Master Skywalker's motivation is not for me to judge. If you do not wish my assistance, I can leave and contact-"
This seemed to amuse the Senator. "Fast to decide, I see. Well, then. Why don't you start with telling me how you go to become a Jedi?"
Amarice was back on familiar ground.
CHAPTER III:
The Horn party. It required no more definition - everyone knew what the talk was about. Every standard year, right before the beginning of a new one Corran's family threw a party for friends and acquaintances. With the Rogue Squadron, a cohort of Jedi, hordes of smugglers, some Senate cream, and other friends thrown into a group, there was never a dull moment. Everyone dressed up, and there was no question whether everyone would make it. Everyone did. For Leia, Luke and Han it was always a special treat: the old gang got together. Leia was always relieved to just enjoy the evening without having to play hostess. To han it was an opportunity to relive great moments with old smuggler contacts. And for Luke it was a window to his former self, the reckless pilot and war hero, before he got all "dull, rule-obeying Jedi" as Mara had once dubbed him in her spiky way.
Luckily it wasn't too different with Mara, who'd been to the occasion for years now. She got well along with everyone, leaving Luke wonderin what sort of effort it had been from Palpatine, teaching the wild beast he knew to socialize with everyone and everything. There was an edge to Mara no Imperial training could hone down. To Luke she was lovely: fun-loving, unpredictable and quirky. To her enemies nothing short of deadly.
It was this deadly beauty of whom Luke stole admiring glimpses as he struggled with his unbrushed hair. They hadn't alked much - Mara had been preoccupied with counting some profits from a run - which had been, if Luke knew Mara any, more than above margin - and Luke had tortured the holonet trying to find out if everything was going well on Yavin.
He'd been looking forward to the party as always, even though he otherwise wasn't much of a socialite. The best parties he'd been had left a permanent mark on him - the death-I-spit-in-thy-face parties of the Rogues before the Rebellion battles. Mara had told him the best parties for her had been those of the smugglers.
Mara's sour mood had kept him on the edge the whole day. She wasn't to blame - she needed this new political twist in their relationship as little as he did. But what bothered Luke was that she kept all of it from him. Below the cool surface he felt when feeling after her in the Force raged surely quite a furnace.
"I heard they've expanded the guest list this year," Luke tried to make conversation as he brushed his hair.
"More senators, you mean," Mara scowled.
"I hardly think that's going to be a problem. A party is a party, Mara. Noone's going to go on accusing you of anything."
"A party can be more than just a party."
"So we'll lay low. Face it, Mara. I'm the brother of a Councilor, head of the new Jedi Order, and you're a high profile ex-Imperial. There's never going to be complete peace and quiet for us."
Enraged by his total underestimation of the situation at hand, Mara snorted. "It's just that I would feel so much better if my right to exist wasn't questioned every three standard prigjin minutes."
There was nothing Luke could say to easy her sour mood if he wanted to keep his eardrums. Lesson from experience. He just hoped nothing of significance would happen.
To which Han undoubtedly would've commented; Fat chance, kid.
************************************************'
Thank you for reading. Reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
Heidi Ahlmen siirma6@surfeu.fi
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)
Amarice had slept surprisingly well, mainly due to the expanded relaxation routine she'd gone through the previous evening. After light sabre practice which had gone remarkably well - perhaps because this time she'd been pitted against a junior student, but a skilled one yet - she'd retreated to her quarters, and cleaned her clothes for the following day. She knew the senate - she'd been there for a school trip several times when she was little.
She paused in front of a mirror. She didn't want to appear to polished - in her opinion there should always be a rough edge to the Jedi. A Jedi's path could take him across almost any kind of terrain and the outfit was fitted to that. Some of it came from tradition, some from Master Skywalker, as most of the students liked to imitate the tight tunics of his youth. Amarice, on the other hand, had chosen more loose ones, more to the model of what female Jedi of the Old Republic had worn. Not too lavish or decorative, her robes were dark grey, her pants blue as well as her shirt. Her light sabre hung at its clasp in her belt, and her hair was in a plait.
She looked like a Jedi. She was not one yet, but perhaps this would take her closer. And maybe give answers to some of the questions that were driving her crazy out of meditation. There were just some things noone, apparently could teach a budding Jedi. The holocron could tell you a whole lot about past Jedis, and Master Skywalker along with the other Masters could give you the guidelines and practices of the order, but there simply was no guidebook to learning to think of yourself as a Jedi, to learn how to mix your persona with the Force. This was a road she'd have to find herself.
A short journey from the praxeum lay the Senate, right next to the Imperial palace. Amarice had no trouble finding Councilor Solo's droid - as she walked in it was making its apparently third speaker call for her. Slightly embarrassed, Amarice set out for the long walk of corridors to Senator Gann's office. The droid turned out to be quite a chatterbox. During the walk she heard everything it knew of the Senator, some rumours and personal opinions from Councilor Organa Solo included.
It seemed this Gann was new to the senate. According to Threepio, she'd risen to power rather swiftly as the head of a movement petitioning an increase in CorSec annual funds. Amarice wasn't aware of any problems in the Corellian system, but she recognized the symptoms: when everything was going too smoothly, people start yelling for security as they anticipate the peace can't be permanent. Senator Gann had ridden the wave, and now she was stirring trouble on her own in the Senate. Aside from a few insignificant budget suggestions, she'd already caused a diplomatic incident by proposing the occupation of Bastion as the sign of the Empire's defeat. She'd been outshouted, luckily. The remaining Imperial fleet wasn't strong, and the peace treaty had held, but they were still capable of stirring trouble for the yet-blooming Republic.
Threepio stopped, and gestured towards a door. Amarice pulled a deep breath and stepped in as the pressurized door opened, waiting to catch her first glimpse of the Senator.
But she was disappointed. There was noone. The hall which acted as a focal point for a large suite with five rooms was empty. Even the usually large coup of assistants and other pests that commonly accompanied Senators was absent.
"What now?" Amarice asked Threepio, who looked as confused as her. She was there at the right time - she could see the time from the screen of a data receiver.
"I do not know, Master Rieekan. Perhaps The good Senator has just been delayed."
Amarice popped her head through the double doors back into the corridor.
Delayed, indeed. Amarice turned her head just in time to see a group approaching. She stepped silently into the corridor to wait.
It was a sight. Five guards in full uniform, two assistant-looking young men, the Sullustan Senator who Amarice recognized from a recent news shot, and in the middle, a tall woman.
She was deeply engrossed in conversation, smirking at something the Sullustani had said, the feathers of her headdress flickering in the flow of air from the corridor ventilators. She was dressed in a black, ceremonial outfit which included a wide, supported lower part and a corset- like upper. It was embroidered with stones. The headderss consisted of a fan-like array of black aghren-bird feathers with every second of the bright red.
And she carried the dress very well, with no sign of swank.
They all stopped and parted at Senator Gann's door - a final confirmation that this woman indeed was Senator Mendya Gann of Corellia. She noticed Amarice standing at the door.
"Yes?"
What was she supposed to say?
"Senator Gann, I was told to meet you here at nine."
"Ah yes. The Jedi Knight. Please, let us in. I do not wish to speak in the corridor."
They entered and got seeted. The Senator ignored Threepio altogether, and sat down at a chair, taking off his headdress. She had strangely knotted dark brown hair.
"Senator, what can I do for you?"
"Jedi Rieekan - now that's going to open some doors in the future."
Not letting herself to be irritated by this punch line, Amarice shrugged. "Perhaps. Now I take it you needed some information."
"Quite right. First I would like to know my Luke Skywalker would send a student?"
Why had Master Skywalker told her that?
"Master Skywalker felt that this task at hand required someone who'd experienced the Jedi Order without the weight of the past." Amarice hoped this would suffice.
"And he didn't consider this matter important enough to attend himself? Skywalker seems to be quite sure of his stature."
"Master Skywalker's motivation is not for me to judge. If you do not wish my assistance, I can leave and contact-"
This seemed to amuse the Senator. "Fast to decide, I see. Well, then. Why don't you start with telling me how you go to become a Jedi?"
Amarice was back on familiar ground.
CHAPTER III:
The Horn party. It required no more definition - everyone knew what the talk was about. Every standard year, right before the beginning of a new one Corran's family threw a party for friends and acquaintances. With the Rogue Squadron, a cohort of Jedi, hordes of smugglers, some Senate cream, and other friends thrown into a group, there was never a dull moment. Everyone dressed up, and there was no question whether everyone would make it. Everyone did. For Leia, Luke and Han it was always a special treat: the old gang got together. Leia was always relieved to just enjoy the evening without having to play hostess. To han it was an opportunity to relive great moments with old smuggler contacts. And for Luke it was a window to his former self, the reckless pilot and war hero, before he got all "dull, rule-obeying Jedi" as Mara had once dubbed him in her spiky way.
Luckily it wasn't too different with Mara, who'd been to the occasion for years now. She got well along with everyone, leaving Luke wonderin what sort of effort it had been from Palpatine, teaching the wild beast he knew to socialize with everyone and everything. There was an edge to Mara no Imperial training could hone down. To Luke she was lovely: fun-loving, unpredictable and quirky. To her enemies nothing short of deadly.
It was this deadly beauty of whom Luke stole admiring glimpses as he struggled with his unbrushed hair. They hadn't alked much - Mara had been preoccupied with counting some profits from a run - which had been, if Luke knew Mara any, more than above margin - and Luke had tortured the holonet trying to find out if everything was going well on Yavin.
He'd been looking forward to the party as always, even though he otherwise wasn't much of a socialite. The best parties he'd been had left a permanent mark on him - the death-I-spit-in-thy-face parties of the Rogues before the Rebellion battles. Mara had told him the best parties for her had been those of the smugglers.
Mara's sour mood had kept him on the edge the whole day. She wasn't to blame - she needed this new political twist in their relationship as little as he did. But what bothered Luke was that she kept all of it from him. Below the cool surface he felt when feeling after her in the Force raged surely quite a furnace.
"I heard they've expanded the guest list this year," Luke tried to make conversation as he brushed his hair.
"More senators, you mean," Mara scowled.
"I hardly think that's going to be a problem. A party is a party, Mara. Noone's going to go on accusing you of anything."
"A party can be more than just a party."
"So we'll lay low. Face it, Mara. I'm the brother of a Councilor, head of the new Jedi Order, and you're a high profile ex-Imperial. There's never going to be complete peace and quiet for us."
Enraged by his total underestimation of the situation at hand, Mara snorted. "It's just that I would feel so much better if my right to exist wasn't questioned every three standard prigjin minutes."
There was nothing Luke could say to easy her sour mood if he wanted to keep his eardrums. Lesson from experience. He just hoped nothing of significance would happen.
To which Han undoubtedly would've commented; Fat chance, kid.
************************************************'
Thank you for reading. Reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
Heidi Ahlmen siirma6@surfeu.fi