Chapter Three: A Knight Alone

They sat alone in the office, she behind the desk, him in front of it. There were no guards, no security droids, no weapons. He did not have so much as a hold-out blaster on his person. She had gotten rid of her blaster pistol and she no longer had a lightsaber. They were on a perfectly even field—a true limbo between enemies.

"I certainly wasn't expecting this," Adguard admitted. "A direct assault? It isn't your style. You're more subtle than that. Elusive. Impossible to catch. A ghost."

Angela nodded. "Which is precisely why I did it. I can run circles around you forever, Adguard. But I realized that I'd never be able to touch you, just as you would never be able to touch me. One of us had to make a move. I took the gamble, cast the dice, and made my move."

She laid down a single object on the desk: a stone key. Her eyes bored into his. "It's time to end this game of cat and mouse, Adguard."

He looked at the item and slowly added two more. All three keys lay side by side, reunited for the first time in untold aeons. "So here they are," he said simply. "And here we are. We both want them. I to rise to power and glory. You to foil me."

"The Fall of Empire will not be used, Adguard," she said coldly. "I won't let you activate it. Ran would agree with me, as did LeFrein. I won't let you raise an empire built on this kind of power. I'll watch you burn in hell before I let you—or anyone else—use a superweapon on this galaxy."

"And I will see you burn before I let you push me aside," he retorted. "I will have the Fall of Empire, Marshair. Once the keys are mine, I'll become an emperor. This galaxy will be under my heel. And I won't let you stop me."

A smile split her face. "And as you told me on the Fortune of Demise, we play our roles," she said. "The heroine and the villain. Don't they fight to the death?"

"I'm not a fighter, but yes."

"I'm a fighter, Adguard, but I have no weapon. So I guess we'll have to think up another way to play the roles we've been cast in."

He sneered. "I assume that this is all part of some masterful Jedi plan, right?"

She nodded deferentially, acceding to his observation. "You could say that. Think about it, Adguard. You've separated me from civilization. You've framed me for murder, revealed my theft to the galaxy, and left me without a single friend to turn to. You did a fine job in running me up against a wall. But I'm not even half-finished. I've still got a few tricks left.

"Look at yourself, Adguard. You came after me when I came out of hiding. I suspected that you'd be on the lookout for me—and like a fine little sheep, you came running for me. You crossed political boundaries to get me and the key, which leaves you in quite a pickle. We're even, Adguard. Our resources are gone. Your ships, your contacts, your bounty hunters. My friends, the Jedi Order, the Federation itself. It's just you and me now."

"And this is supposed to carry out my downfall how?" the Admiral grunted. "The way I see it, I still have a card of my own to play. On this planet, I am god. These people are mine to do with as I please. I just have to give the world and everyone will be all over you in a heartbeat. I have six billion meat shields to use against you and your cursed Jedi sorcery."

She smiled with such vicious delight that the Admiral was taken aback. "I'm glad you think so highly of your people, Admiral," she said in merry tones. She drew a rectangular object from a belt pouch. "Everyone on the HoloNet wanted to see you so candid about them."

The object in her hand was a recorder.

The Admiral balked, his eyes wide and fearful.

"We had our fight," she said tones suddenly hard and unforgiving, "and I won. It's all over for you, Adguard. Really, I should kill you now for the slimy piece of shit that you are. You killed my lover, my friends, and a hundred other good men in your bid for power. You tortured me and broke me in body and soul. You set me on the run, a starved and frightened fugitive without a friend in the universe. For all that, I should murder you right now."

The Admiral simply sat there, dumbfounded and defeated.

"But you know what, Adguard? I'm not going to. And do you know why? It's because I'm a Jedi. I know you'll regret ever crossing me for the rest of your life while you sit in your jail cell."

She smiled at him, throwing the gleam of victory into her eyes. "Say hello to the cockroaches for me."


"The Rakarisians will be under a provisional government instated by the Federation," Master Skywalker said. It had been three days since Admiral Adguard was arrested for high treason to his people and for endangering the peace of the galaxy. The Admiral now spent his days locked in a cold jail cell in Rakaris' darkest prison.

"They will transition into their previous government after the democratic powers reestablish themselves," Master Skywalker continued. "Estimations say that Rakaris will be back under democratic rule in about half a year. Maybe less."

Angela nodded absently. "That's good to hear. I'm glad that things are working out well for them. Admiral LeFrein would have wanted it this way." They were silent for a long moment.

"I'm very sorry about Ran," Master Skywalker said sorrowfully, breaking the quiet. "He was not the best of Jedi, nor the strongest. But he was, in his own way, one of the wisest among us. He knew that a Jedi could be of no use to anyone if he did not enjoy life, and he most certainly tried to teach us that life can be—indeed, should be—enjoyed."

Again she nodded absently. "I loved him, you know," she said quietly, distantly.

Master Skywalker closed his eyes. "I know. I did not approve of your relationship with him, but it seemed to have been conducive to your training. He would have been very proud of you."

"Thank you, Master Skywalker. That means a lot to me." She did not mean the words but she knew that tact demanded she acknowledge his praise.

"Admiral Toniss Adguard has been imprisoned. His plan is foiled. The Fall of Empire has been destroyed and its keys likewise demolished. What will you do now?"

"I do not know," she said honestly. Her eyes firmed and so did her resolve. "My path is unpaved, but I am a Jedi Knight—any road I take is one that I will explore with my eyes open."

Master Skywalker looked at her with surprise. "You say that so readily, Angela. You have only spent a year and a half in training. To claim that you are a Jedi Knight…."

She spun on him, her aura resolute. "Master Skywalker, I am a Jedi Knight, like my Master before me. Like you before me. My training was short, yes, but it is complete. I am sure of it. Please, trust in Ran's tutelage. He may not have been the best Jedi, but he taught me things that prove his wisdom and experience." She proudly squared her shoulders.

"As of this day, I am a Jedi Knight."


The Funeral

She stood alone on a grassy knoll outside of Atari City. Night had fallen, blanketing the sky above with blackness and starlight. Before her was a neat rectangular stack of tree limbs and leaves, as high as her waist and twice her breadth. The wood glimmered in the starlight—the stack had been soaked in oil.

How much had she lost to come this far?

Ooroosh, Kanig, the Nebula Dancer. Ran. All gone, reduced to nothing but memories. She remembered the grandfatherly Aqualish and his stained flight suit, the smell and the gurgle, the old reliability he exuded. She remembered the shy Zabrak, thrown into adventure and determined to walk the path laid before him, relying on his own skill and bravery. She remembered a rickety, temperamental ship, her home for the past year and a half, where many wonderful memories were made. She remembered, above all else, Ran Tonno-Skeve, who stole her heart and gave her so much more in return.

Reverently, she laid a folded bundle of clothes upon the stack. First were the trousers, made of simple homespun. Then the tunic, of the same material, then the blue outer tunic, and the dark blue cloak. Upon those she set a battered old leather belt and a pair of knee-high boots. These were the garments of Ran Tonno-Skeve, the only material possessions he left behind. It was time to burn away his memory.

What did she gain? Adguard was beaten, order restored, the might of the fledgling Federation secured against another crisis. But her victory rang hollow, for she stood alone in triumph. What triumph could there be when only one stood? It meant nothing to her now, tainted as it was by the blood of those who walked her road. She had lost everything but the memories.

She lit a branch, held it aloft like a torch. She tossed it upon the oil-drenched stack and stood back. Yellow tongues of flame licked the wood, burned it to ashes, stroked the leather and homespun, burning and curling and destroying them. There were no tears in her eyes this time. Only the lonely emptiness in her soul. Ran was gone—Ran, and Ooroosh, and Kanig, and Admiral LeFrein, and all those others in her life—and she had to accept that and move on.

She stood there and watched as the funeral pyre burned itself out. She said no words. None were needed. Her heart screamed silently in mourning, but she kept the words bottled inside, her own private pain.

Time would heal all wounds, it was said. But it could never heal it fast enough.

When the smoldering ashes finally settled, she drew her cloak tightly around her and turned away from the dying pyre. Finally, she spoke. It was only a single word, but it marked the turning point of her life. It summed her feelings about the man she had lost, the friends she had lost, the innocence she had lost. It was a single word, but it carried the weight of the universe on its shoulders. It would be the only word she would say while the fire burned itself out.

That word was goodbye.

End A Knight Alone