JAINA
You also are like Anakin Skywalker, Jaina; but much of that comes from your father, too. You're a natural pilot. You're piloting now, leading your squadron on a practice manuver.
It's kind of funny, how much your father hated Darth Vader, not realizing how alike he was to the man Vader had once been. Silly Marson—your father's father. He'd laugh to see you so aggressive; laugh at your gentle twin.
I can't say I like you much, Jaina. You're still volatile, even after your spiff with the Dark Side. It didn't scare you enough. I think you'll fall again, someday. Your temperment is still out of control.
Are you what my sister would've been had she not controlled herself, Jaina? You look so much like her, though Jacen has more of her face. You have her, my, the family's eyes and hair. The Naberrie family's. Your cousin Padmé would probably recognize you, if you ever went to Naboo. She's Queen. Ryoo doesn't like it that she's taken after her namesake. Ryoo hated my sister… her aunt.
Honestly, I think you frighten me, Jaina; but I can't be sure. In this drifting undead deadness, I can't be sure what I feel. I have no body to cue me in with chills, warmth, the urge to run, cry, or whatnot.
Not that I really want a body. It was very painful, that business of living. I was wounded at least once a week, though I had trouble getting others to believe it. A few times the entire family had to gather around to put me back together… Once, I think my leg was in the flowerbed, my ear on the swing, and a finger buried as a bone in the dirt… Something like that.
Needless to say, I never went to school. Even if I had been old enough, I would've horrified everyone else—been terrified, myself. I wonder if I would've been tutored?
I don't like watching you when you pilot, Jaina. I used to watch my sister fly—but I can't watch you. Somehow, it makes me feel dizzy.
It's strange, but lately I've been getting feelings I shouldn't be getting without a body to give them to me. I wonder what it is.
Careful, Jaina. There's no need to fly all reckless like your brother. Let your flight keep up with you. Jag doesn't need you to show off for him. He knows what you can do.
You don't need to show off for Kyp, either. His mother would sting him, if she was here, for him piloting that cargo vessel so, aiming to scare the owner. But she's off, keeping an eye on Mara, right now. I like Kyp's mother. I think. It's hard to link another essance to who they were when living. Sometimes, we'll both stand watch over your mother or Luke. If she's who I think she was, she delivered the Skywalker twins.
Sometimes, especially when I just make a quick switch from watching one of you to another, I'll think I feel someone else watching with me. I'm never sure; but I'm feeling it now, which is strange. I normally don't feel it for this long. I never got it while my sister was alive. She probably kept me from sensing it. She could do that. She was always a lot better with the Force than I was, even after she made herself forget how to use it.
This other "presence", or whatever it is, is odd. It's like a shadow, almost; a shadow hid behind a barrier I can't even sense. Master Yoda, maybe? But why would he hide from me? He never knew I existed. It's not Skywalker; I know that much. I'd recognize him.
I think I should recognize it anyway, though, and I don't know why. I guess it's because it's so precisely unfamiliar, that it seems like someone must be intentionally fuzzing it. All my strong reading points are precisely its strong muffles. A coincidence… maybe.
Or not.
Would you laugh at your great-aunt, Jaina, if you knew how scared she is? Would you shake her off, toss her away like you do your hair from your face? Or would you listen, soothe, help, your long-dead great-aunt?
I don't think you would.