CHAPTER SIX (Part 2 of 2)

With her Force perceptions on high alert Mara had no difficulty finding the unlocked door to the maintenance passages that would lead her to the roof.  As she ran at full speed down the cramped, dimly lit corridor she reached her left hand down the back of her dress and snatched her weapon from its holster with the Force.  In the next instant she arrived at the round portal that led outside.  When she realized she lacked an access code she wrenched her right hand upward, shattering the locking mechanism with the Force and heaving the metal disc up and out of her path. 

The frigid wind of night blasted her thinly clad body.  Immediately she saw that the durasteel walkway along the ballroom's slanted windows was quite narrow – only a few paces across.  And there was no railing, but only the sheer drop into the oblivion of the infinite depths of Coruscant.  Mara stepped out of her stiletto-heeled shoes and burst barefoot onto the freezing cold metal of the walkway.  She darted quickly along, the light from the ballroom below bringing an eerie glow to her path. 

When she rounded a curve of the building's structure she saw the exact image from her vision – a young, dark-haired man in tight black military fatigues kneeling on the walkway and taking aim with a long-barreled sniper's rifle down at the transparisteel window. 

"Hey!" 

Even before her shout the young man was spinning to face her and squeezing off three shots. 

Mara's hands met in front of her body as her violet laser sword ignited.  Instant snaps and rolls of her two-handed grip easily deflected the blaster bolts away into the gloom.  In the next heartbeat she charged forward, her bare feet clanging on the metal and her hair whipping wildly around her head. 

Her opponent lunged upright and retreated a few paces.  Without warning he stopped in place and let the rifle clatter to the walkway – and ignited a shimmering scarlet lightsaber. 

So he was a Sith.  Glancing down at the discarded rifle, Mara noticed an empty chamber along its top.  She raised her eyebrows in surprise.  That would explain how the sharpshooter's bolts had punctured Bryon's armor so easily on Gimna 3 – and why he felt confident shooting right through transparisteel at Leia. 

In that split-second of her realization the Sith used the Force to fling the rifle straight at her, then charged.

Effortlessly Mara sliced the projectile into four pieces, which flew off into the night and plummeted the hundreds of stories down the side of the skyscraper.  Parrying aside the Sith's first blows with his red blade, she made a mental note that it would be an exceedingly bad idea to fall over the edge of this very narrow walkway. 

---

Sarré followed Bryon's lead as they spun out onto the dance floor.  Subtly she checked the fit of her light dress again, then tugged a bit on the edge of his white jacket to adjust it as well – all the while scanning the room with her eyes.  If anyone could blend back into the celebrating crowd without their absence having been noted, it would be a Naboo handmaiden and a Special Forces officer.  Besides, they'd only been gone for… her eyes searched out the big clock high on the far wall… seven minutes.  That briefly?  She felt the blush rising in her cheeks. 

Bryon winked down at her.  "That sure was a nice surprise." 

"Huh?"  She gazed up at his sparkling brown eyes and realized he meant her half of the mutual surprises that had been promised before they'd departed for the ball.  "Oh, darling," she laughed.  "No.  That wasn't the surprise."

His jaw actually hung open for a moment.  "It wasn't?"

"No, that was spontaneous."  She pulled him against her suggestively and flashed a girlish grin.  "It's possible I've had a bit more brandy than I intended."

"Oh," he said, maybe a bit disconcerted by her confession.  "Then what's the surprise?"

Sarré reached down to the small pouch on the thin belt of the dress, palmed one item of its contents, and passed it invisibly to him.  "This is the surprise."

His eyes dropped down to his tilted palm, then came back to her face as he surreptitiously deposited the item in the pocket of his dress whites trousers.  "My parents know they have Nyklas until the morning?"

"Of course, silly," she giggled.  Yes, she'd definitely had a little too much brandy.  But she was pretty sure Bryon didn't mind her… mood.  The Chancellor's Arms hotel could wait another hour or two, and then she'd make extra sure of it.  He wouldn't mind at all.  Not a chance.

Bryon leaned down and kissed her firmly on the lips.  "This is a nice surprise too."

---

Danaé strode quickly through the deserted corridor of the Jedi Temple.  She'd been looking for an excuse to leave the officers' ball anyway; she'd never liked formal celebrations, and although she'd put on a smile for her fellow Jedi she really hadn't been enjoying herself all that much.  So the buzzing of her comlink had been a welcome relief – until she'd seen the code accompanying Master Windu's request that she return to the Temple: Greatest Urgency.  It wasn't an emergency signal, at least, but it sought her presence without delay.  With the help of an air taxi pilot whose astoundingly dangerous flying nearly outdid her father's, she'd made it to the Temple in ten minutes. 

With a few more long strides Danaé arrived at the door Mace had indicated in his message.  The tall Jedi Master's grim frown curled upward into a somber smile when she reached him.  "Thank you for coming, Danaé."

"What's going on?" 

"It's Master Yoda," he said in a quiet voice, tipping his head toward the door behind him.  "He asked to see you."

A million thoughts exploded in Danaé's mind at once.  Master Yoda was here?  In the Temple?  When had he left Dagobah?  And he'd asked to see her?  At this hour?  What in the blazes was going on?

Mace placed a hand on her shoulder, but he let her figure it out for herself. 

After a long moment she did.  Only one possibility explained everything.  "He's dying, isn't he?"

Mace nodded as he waved open the door for her.  He didn't follow her inside. 

Danaé rushed to the small cot in the dimly lit room and knelt on the floor next to it.  The small, ancient green alien was lying on his back, his hands clasped together atop the plain brown blanket.  She put her hand on his.

"Master Yoda?"

He opened his eyes and tilted his face to look at her.  "Ah, Danaé," he said, his voice barely a whisper.  "Wanted to see you I did." 

"I know," she replied softly.  He'd trained and tutored thousands of living Jedi, including her father.  And yet he'd chosen her for a deathbed visit.  "But Master Yoda, why me?"

The wrinkled face smiled broadly and a rasping chuckle escaped his lips.  "Always with you this way it is.  Undeserving you feel.  Inadequate.  Unworthy of the things bestowed upon you."

Danaé nodded.  "I'm sorry."

"Listen to me, my child," he said.  Now his voice was even fainter, and he seemed to be struggling for breath.  "Your father, a powerful Jedi is he.  But someday his time will pass, as mine does now."

"Master Yoda," she exclaimed, not meaning to interrupt him but unable to stop herself, "you can't die!"

"Strong I am with the Force," he whispered.  "But not that strong.  A good life I have lived.  No regrets trouble me.  I am the past.  The present your father is."  Master Yoda coughed and grimaced in pain.  "The future you are."

"Yes, Master," Danaé said through her tears.

"You and Luke… Mara… and Nyklas…"  He took a hitching deep breath.  "For the Jedi… the future… you are.  Danaé… Be proud…  a Sky… a Skywa… walker… you are."  And then Master Yoda's eyes closed. 

For a long time Danaé sat on her haunches, crying.  She couldn't comprehend why Yoda had chosen her, and as much as she tried to understand it, she couldn't.  Finally she did the only thing she could – trust his judgment, as so many Jedi before her had done.  She pulled the simple brown blanket up and covered the peaceful, blissful face. 

Rising to her feet, she paced listlessly into the hallway.  "He's gone."

"I know," Mace said simply.  He pulled her into an embrace and held her close.  "The rest of the Order will be told in the morning.  In the meantime there are arrangements to be made.  You're welcome to assist me."

Danaé wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.  "I'd like that," she said.  "Thank you."

---

Han was gulping air as he let Leia drag him off the dance floor.  The latest tango from the orchestra had been the fastest yet, and without a thought for propriety Han wiped the sweat from his forehead with the white sleeve of his free arm.  Hopefully the next few tunes would be slower, or he might have to beg for a reprieve.  And right now that was the last thing he wanted to tell Leia. 

Fortunately a waiter came by at just that moment, and Leia snagged them a pair of enormous glasses of water.  "Here," she said through her own rapid breaths. 

"Thanks," he rasped, sloshing the word past a mouthful of the cool, refreshing liquid. 

After they had drained the glasses and foisted them off on another server, Leia took his hand.  She leaned into him and looked up.  "Are you having fun?" 

"Of course, Princess," he said.  "It's always fun to hang around with you."

She smiled.  "You don't have to say that if you don't mean it.  I know parties like this aren't usually your idea of a good time.  If you don't want to stay, we don't have to."

"Thanks, but we should for a while," Han said.  "I have a lot of catching up to do.  I should stick around for that."

"Fine with me."

"And what exactly do you think I consider a good time?"

Before Leia could answer, a slap on the back and a familiar voice greeted him.  "Solo, old friend, welcome back!"

Han turned to his side to see a fellow officer with an unfamiliar blonde on his arm.  "Wedge, great to see you.  It's good to be back."

"I'm sure it is," Wedge said.  "Some other time you'll have to tell me all about Jabba's digs."

"It's not as interesting as it sounds, believe me," Han laughed.  He tipped his head toward Leia.  "I believe you've met Senator Leia Skywalker of Naboo?"

"Yes," Wedge said, bowing formally to her.  "It's nice to see you, Senator.  Give your brother Luke my regards.  Rogue Squadron just hasn't been the same without him."

"I'll be sure to pass that along," she replied with a chuckle.  "I think he really regretted having to return to the Jedi Temple after flying with you, Captain Antilles.  I shudder to think what your missions must be like, if they satisfy Luke's ridiculous thrill-seeking."

Wedge winked.  "It's best we leave you in the dark, Senator.  Han, Leia, I'd like you to meet Iella Wessiri."

Following etiquette, Han allowed Leia to go first, then shook the attractive blonde's hand.  "So tell me, Iella," he said with a mischievous grin, "are you with Rogue Squadron?"

"Oh, no," Iella laughed robustly.  "Certainly not.  I'm with Republic Intelligence."

"Intelligence?"  Han raised his eyebrows and looked at Wedge.  "You don't hear that in the same thought with Wedge very often." 

"Funny, Solo," Wedge grumbled.  "Very funny."

Just then Leia elbowed Han lightly in the side and tipped her head toward a couple approaching from across the room.  "Who's that couple coming over here?  They look familiar." 

Han's eyes immediately snapped to the pair she was indicating, but before he could point out that the woman was one of the galaxy's most famous holodrama stars Leia elbowed him again – harder this time.  "Wait!  I do recognize her," she exclaimed.  "That's Wynssa Starflare, isn't it?  But who could that be with her?"

Han swallowed his retort about Leia's underwhelming skill at celebrity recognition.  It was Wynssa Starflare all right.  No doubt about it – even an instantaneous glance could tell you that.  And on the stunningly gorgeous blonde's arm, leading her toward them, was… 

"Fel," he spat.

"Who?"

"Soontir Fel.  Still trying to outdo me."  They had been classmates at the Academy, rivals from day one.  When Han had graduated valedictorian, Fel had been salutatorian.  Barely.  To this day Fel insisted Han had cheated – somehow, sometime – to beat him out.  Like Han, Fel was Corellian.  Like Han, he was not from the planet's wealthy elite.  Fel came from a family of farmers, hardly the most respected or lucrative profession on Corellia.  Like Han, his piloting skills had been noticed fortuitously by a flight instructor from the Academy, and the same scholarship and stipend program that had funded Han's education had given Fel the opportunity to follow his dreams without burdening his family.  There the similarities ended.  For all of Han's bravado, rashness, and wit, Fel was stoic, meticulous, and grim. 

"Oh," Leia said.  "The one you're always complaining about?"

"The one and the same," he confirmed.  "Don't mind me, Princess, but Wynssa looks mighty –"

"Hey!" interrupted Wedge angrily.  "That's my sister you're ogling."

Han laughed.  "Right.  Nice try, buddy."

"No, really, she's my sister," Wedge insisted.  "Dinner at the Sleeping Bantha says she is."

"You're on."  Han smirked at Wedge, then put on an immediate scowl as his rival and the actress arrived at their group of four.  "Fel."

"Solo," the other man said flatly, then turned almost imperceptibly.  "Wedge."

"Soontir."  Wedge took a long stride and kissed the holodrama star brazenly on the cheek.  "Hello, sis."

The dazzling beauty chuckled.  "Another wager, Wedge?  And this time at poor Captain Solo's expense?"

Han's heart skipped a beat at the thought that Wynssa Starflare knew who he was.  The next instant a pang of guilt rocked his stomach and he wrapped an arm around Leia to make it go away. 

Starflare turned to face him.  "I'm terribly sorry, Captain Solo, but it's true.  My real name is Syal Antilles, and I really am Wedge's sister."

Han shook his head in disbelief.  "I guess you got all the good looks genes, huh?"

While Starflare – Wedge's sister – laughed, Fel glowered.  "A comedian as always, Solo.  Bravo."

"Oh, come on, Soontir," Wedge chuckled at his own expense.  "Lighten up a little."

With complete sincerity Fel said, "This is light."

When the three couples went their separate ways on the dance floor a few minutes later, Leia gazed up into Han's eyes and smiled.  "Wedge must be jealous."

Han tilted his head.  "Why's that?"

"Fel's date is one of the most famous holodrama stars in the galaxy.  Yours is a Galactic Senator.  And his is an intelligence agent."

"That's Wedge all right," he chuckled.  "Never the flashiest.  Never gets the glory.  But…"

When his voice trailed off, she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek.  "But what?"

"But he always gets it right."

---

The Sith sliced high and low, his attacks clashing against Mara's purple blade with ear-splitting screeches and blows of tremendous strength. 

But Mara knew immediately she held the advantage.  The Sith's technique was solid overall, but it was choppy and a bit wild.  Not smooth and controlled – not like Mara's mastery of Vaapad.  When his next strike collided with her parry near her right leg she rolled her wrists, powered her muscles with the Force, and drove the two squealing lightsabers in a complete arc up and over their heads and down again. 

She could see the panic on the Sith's face as he tried in vain to free his weapon from hers.  The walkway scattered sparks as her maneuver propelled the red blade all the way into the durasteel beneath their feet.

Before the Sith could react Mara spun into a roundhouse kick that pounded her enemy squarely in his chest, her bare foot smashing into his ribs with all her strength – and then some. 

The black-clad young man flew backward in the air and smacked roughly into the walkway.  His head took a crisp bounce off the metal surface, but somehow he managed to keep his grip on his scarlet laser sword. 

Mara's bounding strides reach him just as the Sith sprang to his feet again.  She struck to his left side, then his right, then his left again.  Now his parries were out of position – and she took advantage.  She slid her blade along the length of his and downward, cutting a deep wound into his left leg. 

The Sith cried out in agony but did not collapse.  Wildly he swung at Mara's neck. 

She swatted the reckless attack aside with pathetic ease, shoving his red blade to her right with complete control.  Then she snapped her wrists and freed her lightsaber again. 

The Sith's eyes widened in shock when her two-handed swing across her body sliced through the handle of his laser sword.  The scarlet blade winked out of existence, and the young man now held only a silver tube with wisps of smoke rising from it.  A scream of horror erupted from the Sith as he watched the tip of her violet blade loop around and arc upward – a scream that ended abruptly when she decapitated him in a single swift blow. 

Mara howled in triumph as the headless corpse of the Sith slumped over, the momentum of her fatal swing tipping the body off the edge of the walkway in a tumbling freefall into the infinite shadows of darkness below her. 

Then she realized her heartbeat was racing and her breathing was ragged.  Deactivating her blade, she took a series of slow, deep breaths.  Carefully returning the glittering silver handle to the holster down the back of her thin dress, Mara also realized she was freezing.  She crossed her bare arms over her chest and hurried back to the open portal to the maintenance hallway. 

As she wiggled her toes back into her heeled shoes, she cast a final glance out into the night.  There was no evidence the Sith had ever been there – everything tangible was lost to the winds and depths of the city.  No one might ever know what had happened here tonight but her.  Mara shivered fiercely from the chill pervading her body.

She smirked to herself.  At least she knew who could make her feel warm. 

---

Anakin gazed out the window of the nursery into the dark nighttime cityscape of Coruscant, and his eyes drifted in the direction of the Senate complex where the officers' ball was being held.  He hoped the children were enjoying themselves tonight – they certainly deserved to after everything they'd been through in the last two years. 

He closed his eyes and stretched his awareness into the Force, allowing the currents of life energy to flow unimpeded through his mind.  No dark premonitions haunted him.  No chilling warnings cried out.  No grave visions reached his perceptions.  Yet all the same he sensed the rapidly approaching convergence of countless paths of fate – the shatterpoint in the conflict between Jedi and Sith, the end of the Vyhrragian war, and the future of his family.  Soon it all would be decided.  Soon.  Very soon. 

Without apprehension Anakin knew victory would not come easily – there would be a cost.  Probably a high cost.  But if that was what destiny – the will of the Force – had in store for the Skywalkers, then it was his duty to ensure that victory was achieved no matter the price.  For in his contemplations of his failure a year ago at Gimna 3 he at last had seen past his final weakness as a Jedi – his selfishness.  A Jedi's duty was to serve the will of the Force by subverting personal desires and ambitions to the greater good: the Republic, the Jedi Order, peace, and justice.  Most of his life Anakin had done this without regret.  But in some ways he never had been a true Jedi, because his attachments to his family gave him bonds more powerful than duty.  And sometimes, as he had on Gimna 3, he acted not from selfless duty but from a selfish purpose to protect his family.  That selfishness had led him straight to the darkness, first in his youth and again in his maturity.  Now that he finally had admitted this truth to himself after all these years, his self-awareness was complete. 

He would not fail again, because he would not choose selfishness over selflessness again. 

And even if that meant someone close to him would die, he would not abrogate his duty by trying – in vain – to save them.  That was the lesson Gimna 3 had taught him, the one lesson his Jedi Mastery had been missing.  He was not all-powerful.  He was not capable of defeating death.  Destiny would present the conditions under which he would have to act, and provide him the choices he would have to make.  He long since had abandoned any belief that the Force had a single plan for the future of the galaxy, or that free will was powerless against the wheels of fortune.  And so in this moment he knew that the fates of the Jedi and the Sith, the war, and his family depended solely on the choices to be made in the coming days.

He knew with certainty that when the time came for him to play his part, he would choose rightly. 

This time he would choose his duty. 

Behind him the door to the nursery slid open and Padmé paced inside with Nyklas bundled up in her arms and a forlorn grimace on her face.  Their grandson was screeching like an enraged acklay and flailing his arms with reckless abandon.  Anakin turned around and strode to her side just as Padmé's chin dodged another swing. 

"No luck," she said.  "Walking.  Singing.  Music.  Bouncing.  Going outside.  Nothing worked."

Anakin reached out and stroked the infant's cheek with two fingers.  "What's wrong, O Grand Obstreperous One?  What great ill afflicts thee?" 

In reply Nyklas screamed at the top of his lungs right in Anakin's face. 

"Very well, then," Anakin chuckled.  He closed his eyes and brushed his perceptions over the baby's bright, if slightly crazed, Force presence.  He opened his eyes again and kissed Padmé's forehead.  "Nothing's wrong that I can tell.  I guess he's just grumpy."

"Too much Skywalker blood," Padmé muttered. 

Anakin knew better than to respond to that particular remark.  He took Nyklas from her arms and carried him to the basinet.  Once the squirming infant was safely on his back among the blankets, Anakin extended a hand in the air.  From a bowl on a high shelf across the room five brightly colored orbs – red, blue, green, yellow, and purple – floated gently to him.  Anakin's fingers could stretch to hold three at a time, making the spheres too large to fit in a baby's mouth despite all four of his children's indefatigable attempts to prove otherwise in their infancy.  Using the Force he began to spin the balls in circles lazily in the air over the basinet.  Slowly at first, in simple orbits.  Then faster, in more complicated patterns.  After a minute the quintet of sparkling orbs zoomed with amazing intricacy over Nyklas's head. 

As expected the mesmerized infant forgot what he was protesting and began to coo at the wonderful display taking place just beyond the reach of his tiny arms. 

Padmé scooted her body between Anakin and the basinet, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.  She sighed contentedly as she nestled her head against his shoulder. 

"Did I set that shirt out for you?" she asked, her voice calm and hushed. 

He glanced down and realized they were wearing matching informal tunics from their respective collections of traditional Naboo attire.  He smiled happily.  "No.  I picked this all by myself." 

She grinned too.  "I guess it was the will of the Force."

"Exactly," he laughed.  "I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again this was in my hand."

Padmé shook her head in bemusement.  Then she took a deep breath and leaned into him.  "They're accusing me of seizing dictatorial powers, you know."

"I know," he said quietly.  It wasn't just the sensationalist Holonet reporters this time; some Senators were raising similar allegations.  "But they're wrong about you.  You know that and I know that.  You made the right decision."

"Did I?"  She turned around and buried her face in his chest.  "Maybe there was another way."

"Sure there was," he said.  "You could've dissolved the Senate and called new elections.  You're much more popular than most individual Senators are.  You could've swept the place clean if you'd wanted."

She looked up at him suddenly.  "I would never do that.  Not just for my own political gain."

"Of course not, angel," he soothed.  "My point is there are always other ways.  The only thing we can do is make the best decision we can with integrity and judgment.  And that's what you did."

"I guess so," she said, unconvinced.  "My last opportunity to cancel the implementation of Bryon's plan was tonight.  I didn't cancel it.  There's no going back now."

He smiled to himself at the way she always referred to the plan as their son's even though Bryon was only one of a half dozen military tacticians who had created it.  "I have faith in you, angel, and in him.  It's a well-conceived plan.  It was the only choice you could make, given all the other unfavorable alternatives."

"I'm trying to believe that, Ani, I really am," she said.  "But what if it doesn't work?"

"It'll work."

She leaned up and kissed him, a long and firm gesture of appreciation.  Then she gazed down at the basinet, where Nyklas now was deep in slumber beneath the swirling spheres.  There was a twinkle in Padmé's eyes when she looked up at him again.  "You know… the baby is asleep…" 

Anakin raised his eyebrows. 

"… and no one else is home," she whispered in his ear, her murmured seductions stirring fond memories of the often outrageous ways a pair of giddy young parents had snuck some privacy two decades ago.  "It'll be at least an hour until we'd even have to –"

Before she could say anything more he cut her off with an unrelenting kiss, scooped her into his arms, and carried her out the door.  In the nursery the orbs continued to spin, and Nyklas continued to sleep. 

---

Luke was drinking down the last of his tall glass of ale when Mara appeared suddenly at his side.  "Hey," he said.  "I've been looking for you."

A single red-gold eyebrow rose dubiously.  "Really?"

"Yeah, really."  Luke's own eyebrows rose as he appraised her – her dress was rumpled, her hair frizzed out wildly, her amply exposed bare skin covered in a thin sheen of perspiration.  "Been having some fun?"

"Not the kind you're thinking."  Mara grinned.  "Not yet, anyway.  I just went out to get some air."

"Oh."

"Why?  Would you have been jealous if I had?"

Luke felt the heat rising in his face, and gulped.  "Yes."

Without warning Mara grasped his hands in hers and kissed him on the cheek.  "We haven't had that talk you've been promising me for ages, Skywalker.  So how was I supposed to know that, exactly?"

"You're freezing," he said, his nod the only acknowledgement of the validity of her point.  Her hands were cold to the touch, and the peck of her icy lips had made him shiver. 

She pulled him flush against her body as she dragged him out onto the dance floor.  "Warm me up, then."

Luke saw the mischievous twinkle in her green eyes and knew she had expectations beyond dancing – and all his fears and doubts that screamed he couldn't let her love him came roaring back in a torrent of apprehension.  "Um… all right," he sputtered as they merged gracefully into the giddy, rollicking crowd.  "But what about… I thought…"

Mara silenced him with a frozen finger on his lips.  "Shut up, Luke," she said.  "We can talk in the morning." 

---

Bryon held Sarré close as they danced to a sedate, soothing ballad of love from Alderaan.  Although he knew they both were struggling to contain their impatience to be on their way, he really was enjoying this simple moment.  In her arms, with the music calming his thoughts, he could forget about the war and the Army and everything in the galaxy except Sarré and Nyklas.  Their son.  He hadn't seen him in weeks – and wouldn't again tonight.  He smiled into Sarré's luscious locks of blonde hair.  He didn't mind the wait; he had a lifetime with his son to look forward to. 

"Bryon?"  Her voice was nearly inaudible with her faced pressed tightly against his jacket. 

"Yes, my love?"

"You're doing okay, right?"  Her arms squeezed him even tighter.  "You'd tell me if you were having trouble?"

"I would," he said quietly into her ear.  "No more secrets.  I'm fine.  I promise."

She tilted her face and looked closely into his eyes.  "The Senate's adjourned."

He knew instantly what she meant.  "I don't think that's a good idea."

"We can't live our lives in fear, Bryon," she whispered.  "Together.  Apart.  There are never any guarantees.  We have to have faith that we'll be there for Nyklas, the way your parents have always been there for you.  They didn't live their lives in fear of orphaning their children, and we shouldn't either."  She stretched up to kiss him tenderly on the lips.  "I want to be on your mission team for Vyhrrag.  I want to be at your side when you end this."

Bryon closed his eyes for a long moment.  How was it, he wondered, that he could face down impossible odds in battle with limitless courage, but he surrendered without so much as a pretense of opposition to anything Sarré desired, no matter how outrageous?  With a helpless mental shrug he swallowed his fear.  He opened his eyes again and kissed her on the forehead.  "I can't deny you, and you know that.  If you have faith, I'll have faith too."  He sighed deeply.  "As you wish."

"Thank you, Bryon.  You won't regret this.  I promise."  Just then the ballad ended, and she began to guide him off the dance floor.  "Are you ready?"

The pang of anticipation that jolted his entire body was all the answer he needed.  "I sure am."

"Me too."  She tugged him insistently toward the exit.  "Let's go." 

---

Without an overcoat to ward off the icy wind whipping around them on the outdoor landing platform, Leia shivered constantly even with Han's arms around her.  Minutes ago the air taxi had let them out on this public platform of the towering skyscraper housing the Skywalker residence many stories above, and the pilot was waiting patiently for Leia to say good night and Han to board again and be on his way.  Yet still they stood in the same spot in the same tight embrace.  He hadn't moved to leave, and she hadn't suggested he should. 

She shivered again and squeezed him firmly.  "Han?"

"Yeah?"

She tilted her face up.  "I meant what I said before."

His frosty cheek brushed against hers.  "You're sure?"

"Yes," she whispered over the howling gusts.  "If it's too fast, I won't be hurt."

"And if I want to stay?"

She ran her hands up and down his back.  "I spent a year trying to find you, and thousands of credits.  I risked my life to get you out of there, and dragged my brother and my friend along too.  I wouldn't have done that if… if I didn't…"  Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard.  "If I didn't think you would feel the same way about me when I finally got back to you.  So if you say you do, then I believe you."

"You're sure?"

Finally she understood.  He wasn't hesitant about his feelings after all – he was hesitant about whether she believed him, and whether that would be good enough for her.  She did, and it was.  It was more than enough.  All she had wanted for a year was to have him back, and know that he loved her.  Leia leaned to the side and waved the air taxi driver off.  As the departing repulsor drive roared she took Han's hand and without a word led him toward the door at the far end of the platform. 

---

Given the very late hour of night – more accurately, the very early hour of morning – Danaé was certain she was the last one to arrive back at the residence.  With her assigned Jedi airspeeder docked in their secured hangar, she strode off the turbolift and into the side corridor of the residence.  Muffling her footfalls with the Force she headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. 

Sitting at the table with the cool drink in her hand, she decided she really wasn't tired.  She probably should try to sleep, but she knew she wouldn't.  The sense of loss was too great.  Plus, she'd probably have to lock down…

Danaé closed her eyes and projected a thin tendril of her awareness toward the hallway with the sleeping chambers.  Sure enough she immediately detected the rough, indistinct radiances in the Force that would indicate the presences of three couples – and she instantly withdrew her perceptions back to her own body before any more information of any kind arrived.  She'd confirmed her suspicions.  That was all she wanted to know. 

For a moment her mind lingered on the number: three.  Sarré had told her about the surprise for Bryon, so that meant…  Danaé shook her head and pushed the thoughts away.  If they were happy, it was none of her business. 

When she finished off the water, Danaé made her decision.  She rose from the chair and walked deliberately to the nursery.  Carefully she silenced the opening of the door and contained her own presence in the Force to ensure her arrival did not disturb the slumbering Force-sensitive infant.  Without a sound she paced to the basinet and gazed down on her little brother's baby boy – her nephew. 

For a long time she simply watched Nyklas sleeping.  It was a miraculous sight to behold.  And the idea that someday this tiny baby would be a grown man – a Jedi Knight, like her – was almost unfathomable.

Danaé clasped her hands behind her back, closed her eyes, and began to meditate.  She was at peace, but her mind wasn't clear.  She couldn't help but wonder.  Would she have a child of her own someday?  Or would she, like Obi-Wan and Yoda before her, be a Jedi – but an outsider to the most intimate kind of family?  Would her feelings for Corran ever be anything more than the deep friendship forged in the inferno of a few reckless weeks of grief and despair nearly two years ago?  Would she ever know love like Luke and Mara or her father and mother did? 

Would she ever have a husband – and a son?

In the back of her mind Danaé already knew the only possible answers: to trust in herself and the Force, and let the future come to her. 

---

It was well before dawn.  The slim figure in a skin-tight black flight suit emerged from the private turbolift into the dimly lit secured docking bay of the Skywalker residence.  Quickly she crossed the wide floor to the Lady Vader, the Jedi Master's unique starship.  Walking beneath the gray metal exterior she paused at a small keypad and tapped in a code.  With a soft whir the boarding ramp of the vessel began to lower to the floor. 

But she did not board yet.  She waited. 

She'd had another vision.  This one far worse – far more troubling – than the flash of insight she'd had hours earlier at the officers' ball.  No, this one had been intense, extensive, and painfully vivid.  When she'd finally awakened from the nightmare, her heart had been pounding and she'd been drenched in sweat.  She'd extracted herself from his arms and hushed him back to sleep with assurances she only was going to use the refresher. 

But that had been a lie.  She'd gone out to the terrace to ponder the vision, and she'd concluded that she had no choice.  Her vision at the ball had saved Leia's life without a moment to spare.  This one…  It was imperative that she act immediately.  If she didn't…  She couldn't even comprehend that possibility. 

She'd thought about asking him to join her, if only for a moment.  But she'd brushed the idea aside.  True, she'd told him they could talk in the morning.  But would it have killed him once during their night of passion – just once – to say that he loved her?  Even if he wasn't ready to go before the Council.  Even if he wasn't ready to tell his family – no, their family; she was part of his family too, and had been for years.  Even if he thought they weren't meant for each other – and the idiot might just be mad enough to think that.  Would it have killed him to admit in words how he felt?  She could sense it plainly enough in the Force.  How could she commit to him – really and truly believe in him – if he couldn't even say those simple words? 

Why wouldn't he just say it? 

Blast him and his need to talk.  In the morning he could talk all he liked – she just wouldn't be there to hear it.  Too bad.  He'd had his chance. 

She slammed her black-gloved fist against the starship's hull.  She would go alone.  If he didn't really love her, then he didn't deserve to be at her side.  And if the Force hadn't shared these visions with anyone else, then it must be her destiny and hers alone to fulfill them.  For some reason the Force had chosen her as the one to save Leia, even though Leia's twin had been in the same room.  And again the Force had chosen her, even though this second vision seemed more suited to Anakin's attachments than hers. 

She was a Jedi Knight now – and last night she had slain a Sith Lord, not that she'd told anyone about it.  Although the Jedi Council formally had the prerogative of assigning her missions, her greater duty was to the will of the Force.  And the Force had spoken to her more directly than it ever had in her entire life. 

The small travel bag slung over her shoulder contained her neatly folded Jedi robes, but the sinking loneliness in her gut had compelled her to wear the black flight suit instead.  He wasn't joining her.  Her former Master wasn't joining her either.  She reached down for the lightsaber on her hip and found a tiny bit of reassurance in the simple gesture.  She was going alone. 

All alone.  That was her future, it seemed.  To be alone in the universe, forever.

From across the docking bay she heard the grumpy whistle and trill she'd been expecting. 

"Sleep?  You're a droid, Jaytoo," she laughed as he trundled up to her.  "You don't need sleep."

The black-and-gold astromech honked.  "Whatever you say.  Are you fully charged or not?"

The droid blooped and toodled.  "Then quit complaining," she chuckled.  "At least Threepio's not coming along."

Jaytoo whistled a pleased salute, then beeped a puzzled query.  "We'll be flying for a while, and this is more comfortable than Jedi robes," she lied.  "All right?"

The droid blooped another question.  She leaned down to face him directly.  "Artoo Jaytoo Override Code: Twelve-Sixty-Four-Amidala, Two-Nine-Fifteen-Naberrie, Eleven-Thirty-Eight-Jade."

For a long moment the droid whirred quietly.  Then he beeped and blooped his readiness. 

"Come on," Mara said, motioning a black-gloved hand toward the boarding ramp of the Lady Vader.  "Let's get out of here before anyone notices we're missing."