Lady of the Sky

By JalendaviLady

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the Trail

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars.

If you recognize any characters, locations, or things in the following story, George Lucas owns them.

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My parents would have cringed if they had ever had any inkling of the bars and taverns I've been in over the last 20 or so years.

It all started in Dexter's Diner. Everything starts in Dexter's Diner. The Clone Wars, the Jedi evacuation of Coruscant... I wouldn't be surprised if Palpatine had met his Sith Master in the building Dexter bought for his diner. It was just that kind of place.

I was meeting some of the remaining members of his clan, Deer Clan, and some other Jedi there. I had a feeling I was already being observed... he had disappeared, and the Purges had started, though unofficially enough that nothing official was happening. Yet. So, I came to the meeting in tight blue spacer pants and a loose white men's shirt tied at the bottom to make up for the extra length. My hair was in the simplest of braids possible. I wore makeup like I'd never worn makeup before: to hide true features by using hideously overdone coloring to detract the eye.

Only Deer Clan recognized me. They called me Lady then, for the first time. The other Jedi never knew who saved them.

I left the meeting with the barest idea of what I was about to get involved in.

And then, the holonews viewer in the diner flared to life.

Palpatine had just declared himself Emperor and outlawed the Jedi from leaving the planet.

That was when I knew what had happened.

The only further marks left on the world by the woman I once was were a few transactions at back-of-nowhere unmonitored bank terminals.

I disappeared without disappearing.

Dexter's place was a gourmet restaurant compared to the place I'm in now.

I'm not even sure what the name of this spaceport is. I'm on my way to the Outer Rim, again. I've been from one end of the galaxy to the other more times than I want to count. I could program a hyperdrive for every twist and turn of the major routes without a navcomputer, if the data in my head weren't so rare and valuable. I had to stop for supplies somewhere.

I'm not even sure this place qualifies as somewhere, actually. But it sells fuel and the food is halfway edible, so it's better than being dead in space. Not by much, though.

I suppose some would consider this constant narration of my life as a sign that I've finally lost my grip on reality. For 20 years I have been without family, without confidant, without true friend. If a bit of mental instability is all I have to show for that, I'd say I'm doing better than I should be. I have too great a grip on reality, and no one to share it with other than myself.

Even when I was training Han in the ways of honorable independent trading, I was mostly alone. He was alone too. I never asked him about what he had seen while in Shrike's group, and he never asked me anything about where I'd come from. We had an understanding about our secrets and our rights to keep them.

I wish I dared go to wherever the Alliance is right now, even if only to let him know I am still alive and traveling. He might even be willing to help, or might know someone who could help.

I don't want to be that close to Vader, yet. Even if he ends up being the final source I need access to in my search for those stupid Spaarti cylinders.

No! This can't be. No.

I finally got to my intended destination, only to be given the name of one of the first planets I visited years ago.

Palpatine backtracked on the delivery path. I know he was the one to sneak out the cylinders now, not that I ever really doubted it at all; only he would be devious enough to braid a shipment of illicit materials (for that is what the cylinders were and are) over thirty planets before shipping it back through one of the first ones. He probably repeated the same process over again at least twice.

Doing this the normal way could take decades more, if tracing the cylinders is even possible now.

I feel like sticking my hand through a wall. I can't afford what the repair costs would be though, so I head home to my ship.

The trail has led me to strange places, and familiar ones. I've been in spaceports that hadn't seen a landing in years. I've been in bars that never knew what surface cleaner was.

The trail has never come to a dead end before. There is no place to go; the only sources I have where the trail leads are the same sources I spoke to years ago, and I doubt anyone remembers anything other than what that group of people told me.

The trail has ended, and I still have no clue what is going on!