CHAPTER SIX (Part 1 of 2)

Anakin stood in the foyer of the Skywalker residence, awaiting the imminent departure of his children.  Tonight in the Senate district the military was hosting an awards ceremony and officers' ball to honor meritorious service, announce promotions, remember fallen comrades, and celebrate recent victories.  It was just the kind of event his children needed in their lives right now – a moment away from the grim reality of war to find some happiness before the high-risk attack on Vyhrrag was launched. 

Idly he wondered what excuse Supreme Chancellor Amidala had given for skipping the event.  It couldn't possibly be the truth – that she had unobstructed access to her grandson for a night.  Several members of the Jedi Council had offered to go to represent the Order, so Anakin didn't have to attend either.  He was very much looking forward to the simple night with Nyklas. 

In the meantime, though, he had unfinished business to attend to.

Standing two meters away across Anakin's foyer, Captain Solo was radiating agitation in the Force and fidgeting like a petty thief caught in the act by constable.  All things considered Anakin thought he'd gone rather easy on the Navy officer so far.  Solo didn't know how good he had it compared to Anakin's treatment of some of Leia's first suitors.  To this day Padmé still chastised him for the distress he'd inflicted on poor Jarren Organa even after the young man had sought Leia's hand in marriage. 

Anakin knew he shouldn't be enjoying tormenting Solo this much, but he just couldn't stop himself.  And he figured it was time to break the uncomfortable silence with another round of even more uncomfortable conversation. 

"Captain Solo, your feelings for my daughter are nothing but honorable, I trust?"

The young man flinched, but immediately he met Anakin's stony gaze.  "Yes, sir."

"She devoted herself to your rescue for a year."

"Yes, sir."

"Relax, Captain," Anakin said in a grim voice, although really it was taking all of his concentration not to laugh aloud at Solo's discomfort.  "As long as you don't break her heart, you have nothing to worry about from me."

"Of course not, sir."  The seasoned combat veteran clearly had never been in a situation like this before. 

Anakin simply smiled.  "I think we understand one another." 

"We do, sir."

Then the sharp voice rang in the foyer.  "Daddy!  Whatever you're attempting, stop it."

---

Although a cursory examination had been enough, to humor her seated daughter Padmé went through the pretense of carefully appraising Leia's hair from three sides and in the big mirror on the vanity.  "It's fine."

"You're sure?"

Padmé put her hands on Leia's shoulders.  "Yes."

"Thanks, Mom."  Leia leaned in toward the mirror to scrutinize her makeup a final time. 

"Sweetheart, I know how long you've waited to have him back, but remember to be careful about what you expect from him.  He'll be tentative.  He could be awkward.  Even if his feelings haven't changed, it may take some time for him to say it.  Or for him to accept that yours haven't changed either.  Just be careful."

"I will, Mom.  The last thing I want to do is hurt him.  Or scare him away."

"You'll be fine, dear, really," Padmé said.  "Be yourself.  Be honest.  You don't have to prove anything to him, not after what you did."

"I know," Leia said, rising to her feet.  "Come on, let's go."

They walked quickly down the corridor to the foyer.  As they turned the corner Padmé inadvertently let a quiet giggle escape her throat at the sight of tan-robed Anakin inflicting his best Exceptionally Imposing Jedi Master demeanor on a very flustered Captain Solo. 

Leia burst ahead.  "Daddy!  Whatever you're attempting, stop it."

Padmé laughed and paced over to Solo.  "Enjoy yourself tonight, Han."

He bowed respectfully.  "Thank you, Your Excellency."

"Please," she insisted quietly, "call me Padmé."

"Sure," he said, nodding a bit reluctantly.  "Thanks."

She winked.  "Just go ahead and ignore my husband.  Leia always does."

---

Anakin threw up his hands defensively as his gundark of a daughter marched toward him.  "Stop what?"

"Ha!"  Leia propped her hands on her hips.  "Nice try."

"I'm looking out for my little girl, that's all.  Really, it's nothing you should get upset –"

She cut him off by jabbing a finger into his chest.  "I…" – another poke – "can look out…" – poke – "for myself…" – poke – "if it's all the same to you." 

Anakin found himself very grateful there hadn't been a concluding poke.  "Very well, darling."

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him.  "We're clear?"

"As transparisteel."

Leia grinned broadly, then turned around and took Solo's hand.  "Bye, Mom.  Bye, Daddy." 

And in a flash the young couple was out the main door and into the corridor toward the turbolifts. 

At his side Anakin heard Padmé clear her throat.  He held out his hands and smiled innocently.  "What?"

"You never listen to me," she laughed, shaking her head in dismay.  "Did you enjoy yourself?"

Anakin grinned unrepentantly.  "I did.  Thanks for asking."

"I hope it was worth it.  Don't come crying to me when Leia exacts her vengeance on you."

"Tough words," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.  "But I know you'll comfort me afterwards.  You can't help yourself."

"You're being annoyingly overconfident tonight, Master Jedi," she grumbled.  "If I were you I'd be –"

She stopped abruptly at the sound of the approaching footsteps, and Anakin turned to see Luke and Mara walking into the foyer – reunited yet insecure, together yet distant.  Clearly the young lovers were ill at ease in their formal attire, but there was more to it than that.  Looking closely at their faces, Anakin could see that they both were hiding something.  And not from him, he realized, so much as from one another.  With a mental sigh he accepted that this was neither the time nor the place to provoke the firewasp's hive the youngsters had created for themselves.

Anakin smiled warmly.  "You look lovely tonight, Mara."

"You do," Padmé added.  "Truly."

"Thanks," Mara mumbled, her eyes not meeting theirs. 

"Have a dance with your sisters for me," Anakin said to Luke, who nodded.  "Enjoy yourselves tonight.  It will be good for your peace of mind in the coming days."

"We will," his son said, heading toward the door.  "Thanks."

Mara smiled weakly and nodded, but she didn't say a word as she followed Luke out.

Anakin took Padmé's hand, then glanced down to see her looking up at him with a concerned expression on her face.  He kissed her forehead again. 

"She's in trouble," Padmé said quietly. 

"I know," he sighed.  "She's a Jedi Knight now.  I can't make her ask me for help."

"She's a good person and you've trained her well.  She'll do the right thing."

"She will.  I just hope she doesn't suffer too much before she finds her way."

Padmé squeezed his hand and was about to say something more when Danaé strode into the foyer dressed simply in her regular tan Jedi robes.  In a single compromise to flair their daughter's long brown hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders; the curly tresses brought out her natural beauty and grace, which she rarely showed publicly.  Anakin's eyes met Padmé's – and her eyebrows were raised too.  If Leia and Sarré had gotten Mara into an elegant formal dress, it seemed impossible that they could have failed to get more than the pretty hair from Danaé. 

Padmé winked at him and turned to Danaé.  "How did you manage this?"

Danaé laughed and patted her glittering silver lightsaber handle.  "Aggressive negotiations."

"I see," Padmé laughed too.  "Good for you."

Anakin smiled at his daughter and reached out to brush his fingers through a few locks of hair on the side of her face.  "You made the right decision to attend tonight," he said.  "I know you don't really want to go, but it will mean a lot to the others to have you there."

Danaé's lips curled upward into a half smile and she tipped her head a little.  "It's all right.  I don't mind." 

"You know," he chuckled, "if you're open to the idea of having fun, you just might."

"And I hear that Corran Halycon fellow has a thing for you," Padmé said.  "Give him a chance."

"Mom!"  For a moment Danaé scowled, but then she shook her head and grinned.  "Fine.  If he asks me to dance, I will.  It would be rude to decline.  But he does not have a 'thing' for me."

Padmé smiled with perfect politician's sincerity.  "Of course not, sweetheart."

"I'm leaving," Danaé groused.  She snapped her blue eyes to Anakin's.  "Not a word from you."

With a straight face Anakin compressed his lips together tightly into a thin line, and held them that way until his daughter was out the door.  Now only one obstacle remained to peace and quiet with his wife and grandson.  It was time to turn on the notorious Skywalker impatience. 

"Let's clear them out," he declared. 

"Yes," Padmé said, leading him by the hand as she strode deliberately toward the interior corridor.  "Let's."

As soon as the nursery door slid open Anakin spoke.  "Out.  Now."

Bryon and Sarré looked up from where they were standing over Nyklas in the basinet. 

"Out," Anakin repeated.  "Go.  You're going to be late.  Out."

"But… but… he's not asleep," Sarré sputtered.  "We just wanted to be sure –"

"Out," Anakin said again. 

Bryon had his arm around his wife's shoulders.  "Just another minute and then we'll –"

"No," Anakin said.  He shot a firm stare at the young couple as he wrapped his arm around Padmé in the same pose.  "How many children have we raised?"

"Four," said Sarré meekly. 

"And how many have you raised?"

"One," Bryon started to say, then corrected himself.  "Well… um… none, really."

Padmé finally couldn't hold in her laughter any longer.  "I think we are perfectly capable of getting Nyklas to bed for the night.  Your son will torment you for the rest of your miserable lives.  The ball is one night only.  Now go."

"Out," Anakin added for good measure. 

Bryon and Sarré took lingering looks down at their son before they smiled broadly and walked quickly from the room hand-in-hand.  The instant the door slid shut behind them Nyklas began to wail.

Anakin pulled Padmé into an embrace.  "That was exhausting."

She chuckled into his shirt and raised her voice over the screeching of their grandson.  "No kidding."

Almost as if he was feeling left out of the hug, Nyklas began to shriek even louder. 

Anakin raised his eyebrows.  "I'll go fix us some drinks?"

Padmé nodded decisively.  "Please.  We're just getting started."

---

The night began with the presentation of numerous commendations, medals, and promotions by the High Council of Fleet Admirals and the Commander General's Committee.  After that tribute was paid to the fallen members of the Army and Navy, followed by an extensive series of toasts lauding the successes of the Republic and praying for swift victory to prevent the further loss of life.  Finally, the ceremony adjourned from the patriotically festooned auditorium to the ballroom for a few hours of much-needed revelry. 

With Sarré's hand held firmly in his, Bryon smiled broadly as he entered the ornately decorated chamber in the Museum of History and Remembrance, a towering structure located in the government district at one corner of the sweeping ferrocrete plaza that stretched out from the main entrance to the domed Galactic Senate building.  The massive ballroom was over a hundred meters square, with polished marble floors, soaring granite columns, colorful banners hanging from the walls, and wide windows and shimmering gilding on the slanted ceiling high above.  As the scores of officers and their guests spread out across the space, Bryon shook his head in wonderment.

"What's wrong?"

He glanced down into Sarré's concerned lavender eyes.  "Nothing," he said.  "I'm just enjoying the moment.  The calm.  The relaxation.  It's nice."

"It is," she agreed, tugging him forward.  "I'm having brandy.  What do you want?"

A few minutes later Bryon still felt the heat of the rapidly consumed liquor in his face as they danced to the quick-tempo waltz the orchestra was playing.  All around them the eclectic crowd of humans and aliens was enjoying the lively tune and the rollicking celebration.  With a full extension of his arm he spun Sarré, then slung her back to him.  They both burst out laughing.

She gripped him firmly by the waist, and they twirled together through the throng.  "What's so funny?"

"That dress," he murmured.  It was the same one she had worn that afternoon a year ago when they had confessed their secret marriage – and the pregnancy – to their families.  The brightly colored diaphanous fabric would have been sultry enough, but the slim gown's tight bodice and plunging neckline were utterly distracting.  "It looks like it's about to fall off." 

"It won't," she insisted with a perfectly straight face.  "Not until I'm good and ready."

"I see," Bryon said, immediately affecting profound sincerity.  "I'll just be patient, then."

"You'd better," Sarré laughed.  She lifted her hand and brushed her fingers along the many multicolored medals pinned to the front of the jacket of his dress-whites uniform.  "Very impressive, darling."

"Thanks."  He paused.  "So, did you like the surprise?"

"I did.  It was a very nice surprise."

"I thought you would."

"As long as it's not that I'm pregnant again," she said with a wink, "you can surprise me all you like."

"I'll keep that in mind, my love."  The waltz ended and a slow, tender melody began to play.  Bryon looked down into her eyes.  "Dance?"

"Later," Sarré said.  "First, more brandy." 

He laughed heartily.  "As you wish."

She grinned wickedly.  "You are wise to obey, General."

---

"May I have this dance?"

Luke spun around to the sight of a stunning green-eyed young woman in a breathtaking silver dress.  Her short red haired perfectly framed her face, and her thin Padawan braid hung down almost to her collarbone.  "Of course you may.  It's good to see you."

Shira Brie smiled and let him take the lead.  "It's good to see you too.  Congratulations, obviously.  I would've said something sooner but I haven't seen you at the Temple."

"Thanks," Luke said.  "I've been away on a mission."

"My Master says I'll be ready for the Trials within a year."

"That's good.  I'm sure you'll get through them easily."

"Thanks."  Shira looked closely into his eyes.  "How are things with you?"

"Okay, I guess."

"You and Mara haven't worked out all the kinks yet, huh?"

Luke gaped at her.

Shira grinned.  "You never could get anything past me, Luke.  And if you think you can get anything past her, you're sorely mistaken."  She pointed to her head.  "It's the hair.  It gives us magical powers."

He laughed.  "I'll keep that in mind." 

"Be smart about this, Luke.  For once, don't be yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Her expression was entirely serious.  "It's time you stopped breaking hearts, and started trusting your own."

---

In the middle of the latest waltz Han caught himself admiring Leia's figure again.  She wore a striking red dress that flaunted her curves and unquestionably made the other officers incredibly jealous.  He almost felt embarrassed the way he was looking at her – the way he couldn't take his eyes off her even for a second.  But he figured she wouldn't have worn this tonight if she didn't want that reaction from him. 

They'd been apart a year.  They'd only just admitted their feelings for each other, and expressed them physically and verbally, when Jabba the Hutt's twisted vengeance had separated them.  He'd thought about her every day of his captivity – and when she'd come to rescue him personally he knew she must've done the same.  The entire time it'd taken the Falcon to bring them back to Coruscant, all day and all night, they'd spent talking and dozing and then talking some more just to experience the joy of each other's company again.  After that he'd gone to hours of Navy debriefings and she'd checked in with her Senate office and visited her parents until they'd met again at her family's penthouse residence right before the officers' ball. 

He really couldn't believe how lucky he was.

Her voice interrupted his thoughts.  "Han?  Is something the matter?"

"Don't sweat it, Princess.  I'll be fine."

"Tell me.  Please?"

He gazed into her pleading brown eyes and sighed.  "Your father is a pretty intimidating guy."

"Daddy?  Oh, he's harmless," she laughed. 

"Easy for you to say, sweetheart.  You're not the one whose life he basically threatened."

"He just wants me to be happy.  He doesn't want me to get hurt."  Leia smiled and brushed her fingers along his cheek.  "If you gave up too easily, he'd know your feelings weren't what you claimed.  He was only testing you – trying to scare you a little."

Han shook his head in disbelief.  "Yeah, well it worked."

She laughed merrily.  "Come on," she said, tugging him toward a table.  "Sit down.  Let me tell you a story about what Daddy did to Jarren once.  I think it'll make you feel much better."

---

"May I have this dance?"

Danaé turned at the sound of the familiar voice.  "Of course, Corran."

The handsome Corellian took one of her hands in his and rested his other hand on her hip as they stepped out onto the dance floor.  "How've you been?"

"Well.  And you?"

"Well.  Are you back at the Temple for a while?"

Danaé shook her head.  "Another mission.  I leave tomorrow."

"Me too," Corran said.  "I'm flying on the Rogue Squadron rotation."

"Luke enjoyed that," she said while her mind raced through the possibilities.  That timing couldn't be a coincidence.  She was beginning to think this next assignment was a bigger deal than she'd realized. 

Corran seemed lost in thought for a moment too.  Then he looked up into her eyes again.  "Do you ever feel a lot of expectations because your father's on the Council?"

"All the time," Danaé admitted.  "Although usually it's more my own than anyone else's."

"Good," he laughed.  "I was afraid it was just me."

"Hardly."

"Do you ever wonder if you'll be on the Council someday?  Like him?"

Danaé looked away, and didn't say anything. 

"Come on," Corran said in a mischievous voice.  "I think I've proven I can keep a secret."

She couldn't help but smile a little when she met his gaze again.  "That you have," she said.  "And, yes, I do wonder, Corran.  I wonder if I'll ever be worthy of my father's legacy."

---

Nursing a tumbler of Corellian whiskey, Mara leaned against a pillar in the ballroom.  Her red-gold hair had been styled with a soft wave and hung loosely around her shoulders, and she wore a sleek, form-fitting, sleeveless green dress that matched her eyes.  The plunging neckline and revealing slit along her right leg had caught the notice of many an officer, but secretly she was most pleased that the elegant draping on the dress' high back covered the thin straps of the lightsaber holster concealed beneath the fabric at the small of her back. 

Absentmindedly she ground the point of one of her stiletto heels into the stone floor.  Mara hadn't wanted to come to the ball at all, really, but Leia and Sarré had turned on their ruthless tag-team pestering and had given her no viable option except to concede.  And she had attempted to enjoy herself – she really had.  Yet she couldn't shake her simmering discomfort no matter how much she tried.  She was anxious.  Apprehensive.  Edgy.  Something was wrong – very wrong.  But no amount of effort had identified the source of her unease. 

Mara's eyes scanned the hall.  Near the center of the crowd Bryon was dancing with his aide Kessa Brittin while Sarré laughed at the antics of his friends Will Graff and Cerule Starblaze.  At one of the many tables around the perimeter of the room Leia and Han were seated together, huddled in a jovial conversation.  Amid a group of Jedi apprentices Danaé was smiling broadly while being twirled by Corran Halcyon and Luke in his fancy blue-and-white tuxedo was dancing with… Mara shrugged.  She couldn't see who it was, and really she didn't care.

No, that was a lie.  She did care. 

Mara stomped her heel into the stone and took a long sip from the tumbler.  As the burning sting of the liquor filled her mouth and throat, she closed her eyes.  Was he avoiding her?  Or did he think she was avoiding him?  A year ago after the disasters on Tatooine and Gimna 3 Luke had promised her they would resolve their feelings for each other once they were Knighted.  When the opportunity to rescue Captain Solo had arisen immediately after their promotions, though, Mara had agreed readily and without regret to fulfill her promise to Leia first.  But now the rescue was over, and after two months apart Luke was acting the same as before.  She knew how strong his feelings were – as clear and true as ever.  Yet at the same time he denied them.  He was holding back.  Rejecting her.  She couldn't understand why.  It didn't make any sense. 

It made her angry.  Really, really angry. 

Mara opened her eyes again as she swallowed the last mouthful of the fiery liquid and smacked the tumbler down on the tray of a very startled waiter.  Her gaze fell on Leia and Han, and a spike of jealousy struck her in the gut.  They had been apart a year, and yet they looked so happy.  She and Luke had not been separated by anything beyond their control, and yet…  She cut off the thought before her fury could boil over completely. 

And in that same instant a haunting chill ran down her spine – a premonition so powerful her whole body shivered.  Leia was in danger.  Mortal danger.  Right here, right now. 

While her mind scrambled to figure out what possibly could be going on, Mara stretched out her awareness into the Force and sought its guidance.  She knew Solo was no threat – that was impossible.  And it seemed entirely implausible that any of the attendees at the ball were planning to assassinate the Senator from Naboo, although Mara wondered how thoroughly some of the officers' guests – who looked suspiciously like professional "escorts" to her – had been screened.  Even as the warning of immediate peril grew ever stronger in her perceptions, she settled her conviction that the threat was not from within the walls of the ballroom itself.  It was something different. 

Indistinct.  Elsewhere – yet immediate.  Elusive. 

Then a vision flashed in her mind's eye, and she lifted her face toward the soaring, slanted ceiling of the ballroom.  Beyond the angled windows high above was the dark nighttime sky of the capital.  And the danger. 

Mara bolted around the column and out into the corridor, racing at top speed toward the turbolift.