She stood at the window, looking out over the lake that was a glittering sea of moonlight that night. But the sight reminded Luzaya too much of what she had been named for, and her own uncertainty about whether she would be able to live up to that name, whatever it meant for her future. Behind her, seated in the high-backed chair and patiently waiting for her to pose her request, Anakin Skywalker was a calm presence, exuding wisdom she knew she would probably never achieve. Finally she turned back around to face him, and for a moment grief overcame her. She had known Anakin Skywalker ever since she had been little, as Cor'dan, as friend of the family, as legendary warlord and sorcerer. But when she saw him  sitting there, blue eyes attentive, his expression open and helpful, she realized that she had missed out on getting to know him as he really was, just as she had failed to truly commit to a friendship with Mahel Sivaraya, or even her lover, Naas Deron. And yet she felt that she could tell the former Dark Lord everything, that he was equal to her father when it came to trust.

Hugging her own body tightly with both arms, she hung her head. "I am worried about the future," she confessed. "I am alone in enemy territory, once I leave Naboo again, and leave I must. I – " Her head came up again, pale blue eyes regarding the man across from her pleadingly. "You know the future. My future. Could you not – could you not tell me?"

"What truly concerns you is the past, Luzaya Dan, is that not so?" he asked quietly, and waved her closer.

Embarrassed by his insight, the young woman walked over to seat herself in one of the other chairs, wishing she were five years old again, and immune to being called on her foolishness. But she was grown up, and she knew exactly that she would not be treated as a responsible adult unless she started acting like one. Here was someone who understood what she was feeling. Why should she withhold anything from him if he could help her? She nodded at last, then began anew. "I was told I had to prove myself worthy of my name, worthy of my destiny. But I fear that my path will end like those of my predecessors."

"Afraid to die," he whispered. "My dear Luzaya, you should not fear something so petty." It was not a patronizing tone he used, and she felt grateful for that. "Let me tell you something about your predecessors, discounting the fact that myself and your own teacher are alive and will probably continue to be alive for the time being," he added with a smile. "No Cor'dan knows his or her fate, because that would hamper them from living out their potential, would blunt their edge in executing their duties. Which is why no Cor'dan would tell a newly named person of his or her fate, though we do know their future, just as I know yours. You know what your name signifies, and you try to understand how that will affect your life. But, Luzaya, it is not your name that defines your destiny, it is your actions, your own achievements, that define your name. The answer will be revealed in time. Naas Deron has instructed you on the origins of the Naming Ceremony?"

"Yes, he has," the princess answered reluctantly, and fell into her quotation mode. "It is our sincere belief that balance and unity define life and death. Therefore we honor the spirits by inviting them to share life with us. The Naming Ceremony seals the living to their responsibility toward the dead, which in turn reminds us of our duties to life itself. In sharing life with death, we transcend the level of crude existence and accept a higher calling."

He nodded solemnly, then a predatory smile appeared on his lips as he leaned toward her. "But you do not believe in what you just told me, Luzaya. You do not yet understand that this is not just a symbolic gesture, that you indeed share life with death. The spirit that named you is there, within you."

"You mean a reincarnation?" she asked, taken aback.

"It does not determine your path in life, if that is what you mean," Anakin Skywalker said dismissively. "You have studied the old teachings, and I am certain you have been told about Roj Kell's distinct views on the matter of self-determination. But as you grow older, and – hopefully – wiser, your own presence and your guardian spirit become one."

"In death, perhaps, yes," Luzaya injected gloomily.

Anakin Skywalker's brows rose challengingly. "Oh? You believe that the Cor'dan achieves true wisdom only in death? Well, I am very much alive."

"But are you that wise?" she shot back. "I mean, let me take Lord Kell as example. He was undoubtedly the most knowledgeable being this galaxy has ever seen, but was he as wise as, say, Master Yoda? He let himself be killed by the Yuuzhan Vong to make a point, but he did not really achieve anything with his sacrifice. It was suicide, nothing less. And what did his predecessor die for? She sacrificed her entire clan, but what for?"

A pained look crossed his eyes, and she almost bit her tongue, fearing she had offended him. But then he said: "From your point of view it does appear wasteful and suicidal, understandably. And yet it was something different. Alda Magor's clan would have perished anyway, and she knew she could not prevent that. Which was why she sent her successor away, to seek a new beginning. He found it, and made it happen. It began with your mother's choice to found a new Sith Empire, and my choice to serve her as Cor'dan." He paused, and the pain in his gaze increased. The sight made Luzaya wince. "Even if he had not died at the hands of Marayl Carr, he had set a price for his deeds a long time ago. I have never told anyone, Luzaya, but if the warmaster had not killed him, I would have done it. And I would have dishonored his achievements in doing so," he added in a whisper.

Her brows shot up. "Why? You offered amnesty to others, who had been as sneaky and mean as he was. You spared his life before, even Master Yoda did. Why would you have killed him just then?"

Anakin Skywalker looked away, toward the glittering lake. "It is our desire to leave something behind once we die. Kell's very own legacy was death, yet his compassion also spawned life. But he never sought forgiveness, and never learned it. He never accepted his own deeds as crimes, because he accepted the consequences, the punishment with his deeds. It could not discourage him from doing what he did. That is why we are called the Heart of Darkness and carry the light within us. Once we assume that duty we must follow balance to achieve justice. Therefore the Cor'dan must be above the law, and set a price for his or her deeds. We do not gain absolution for what we do. I would have killed him, had he lived. But he spared me that choice. I had to learn to forgive, and that was what he taught me, what became my legacy as Cor'dan."

"And what is my legacy going to be? Will it be darkness? Or life?"

"Your choice, child. Yours alone. Your deeds reflect your own being, Luzaya."

Anakin could easily read the anguish in her eyes, and he understood too well what she was going through. To her the future must seem gloomy and injust, she questioned her own part in it, and she resented what she was being taught. Above all he could sense her doubt, doubt in the path she had chosen, doubt in her teacher. In that, the princess put too much meaning into ritual. She compared Naas Deron to his predecessors, not realizing that just because both Kell and Anakin had been schemers that did not mean Deron had to be one too. And Deron had to learn that his was a different calling. He had certainly not been chosen for his wisdom. The former Dark Lord risked a sardonic smile that immediately put Luzaya off. She gave him a hurt look that wiped the smile right off his lips.

"What is so funny?" she challenged.

"Life, I guess," he answered truthfully. "Luzaya, do you think your master is making mistakes?"

"Truthfully?" She gave a bitter shrug. "He is not acting the way I thought he would. I think he is unable to cope with the situation, and Mother relies on his insight too much."

This time Anakin laughed out loud. "Your mother? I don't think Yana would rely on anyone but your father." Suddenly sobering, he heaved a tiny sigh. "Unfortunately we sometimes have to fall to find the right way. You are wondering why I chose Naas Deron to succeed me?" She gave a mute nod. "Very well. Naas Deron is a warrior and he hates subterfuge, because he was never good at it. He thinks he must meet the standards I, and Roj Kell even more so, set for him, but things are different now. He is not responsible for an entire galaxy, only for the Empire." He shrugged. "Short-term strategy. It is your mother's job to administrate the Empire, not his."

Luzaya frowned at him. "I don't understand that," she confessed.

"Quite easy, child. So far your mother's opponents expect Naas Deron to act the way I would. But they will soon find out that he is not very good at subtle threats and intricate schemes. They will grow bolder. And that is when he will strike. Because he will have no other choice. He will realize that the blunt strategy will serve him best, that he is a warrior after all."

Lips slightly parted and eyes wide, the princess inhaled deeply. But then her features hardened again and she asked: "Lord Skywalker, what is the meaning of being Cor'dan? To plan ahead and guide the people? To use them?"


"Protection, Luzaya, and guidance, yes, but only if they request it. The Cor'dan may not be slave to any government, but neither should the Cor'dan rule. Recover the past, Princess, and you will find truth there."

"So easy for you to say," she snorted. "You could only learn from your past and make things better! But I am too young to learn from past experience, and my parents carved an empire out of chaos."


"Then there is nothing you can learn from them?"

She shook her head no. "I do not think so. What did you learn from your parents?"

Anakin's brows shot up at that unexpected question. It was an intimate question, and he was not sure if he wanted to answer it, but then, he had asked her the same, had he not? And she deserved an answer, to ease her mind. Averting his eyes he gazed out over the lake, and smiled. "My mother, I suppose, taught me humility and generosity. She never rallied against her fate, she let me go when I needed to leave, and she was overjoyed at seeing me before she died, and now I know she did not hate me for being unable to save her." A smile had stolen onto his lips, unbidden. "She had greatness, I believe, even as a slave. As for my father ..." Anakin's face darkened once more. "I never knew him. The little I know of his life leads me to believe that he was strong-willed and proud. Your mother claims that he was compassionate. I for one hope he was also wise, at least I wish he was." He grinned self-consciously. "I suppose my children hoped the same, while they did not know me. I sincerely hope I did not disappoint them too much."

"Never!" Luzaya laughed, her dark mood gone.

His own mood turned bitter-sweet then, watching her genuine amusement, like a release from a burden she had been forced to carry by who she was and what time she had been born into. It was then, not surprisingly, that his thoughts were drawn back to the day of her naming. He had seen her future then, what she would become, in time, and he was reminded of that vision now, in that moment of shared memories of family. He wondered, briefly, whether his own father had had an inkling of what would become of his son, and, with disconcerting clarity, he knew it to have been exactly so.  He imagined his own father as he had faced death, taking solace in the future that would be shaped by his son. And he wondered whether, as former Cor'dan, he would be able to accept the future as easily.

The first night the princess spent in Varykino was filled with nightmares. As she lay in her bed, an elegant affair in an equally elegant guest-room, with Mahel quartered next to her room in one of his own, she woke drenched in sweat, her eyes wide, her mouth opened to cry out in terror. But fear strangled her, preventing her from making any sound at all. And nevertheless Mahel must have heard her in her restlessness, for when she sat up, her body rigid with tension, she found her guardian standing at the foot of the bed, his tall, gaunt frame like an inpenetrable mountain in the pale light of the moon that shone through the open window. Luzaya, who had expected to wake to the loneliness that surrounded her most nights, even when she was with Deron, felt tears break from her eyes, touched by the concern she could see in Mahel's stance and his expression. As her shoulders sagged with relief he was with her in two quick strides and caught her in his arms, gently lending comfort. He had not said a single word yet, and still, Luzaya knew how much he cared, that he was offering solace to her freely, without obligations on either one's part.

"I am so sorry," she whispered, shaking her head. "I worried you."


"Ssh, don't feel ashamed," he answered softly, holding her closer. "I would never mistake honesty for weakness."

For him, a Yuuzhan Vong wrarior, to say this was miraculous, to say the least, and the novelty of it dried Luzaya's tears instantly. "Honesty?" she asked, confused.

"As friends," he told her then, "we should not try to hide our feelings from each other. You were afraid. There is no need to feel ashamed for it."

"Your father would have said something else," the princess pointed out, and watched Mahel nod solemnly.

"Yes," he agreed. "But I am not my father. I have been taught by the Cor'dan, and taught much more than I could ever have learned from Marayl Domain Carr."

Luzaya shook her head, shocked at his confession. For a Yuuzhan Vong to dismiss his parent so was unheard of and came close to treason to one's family. But then, had Mahel not been cast out already from his domain? He did not stand to lose anything by his frankness, especially not in the privacy od her bedroom. And perhaps, she thought, perhaps this break with his family's history had also freed him to pursue the life he wanted to lead, the life that Naas Deron had promised him.

"Do you want to tell me what frightened you so?" he asked then, surprising her again. The look in his black eyes was one of serious concern.

For a moment Luzaya kept silent, then gently put her hand on his arm, pushing it aside. He retreated instantly, recognizing her need for distance as she prepared to lay her soul bare before him. Lips pressed tightly together, Luzaya tried to step back into the dark place she had visited in the netherworld of her dreams, strengthened by her guardian's presence beside her. She trusted him, more than Andarack, more than Deron himself. And with him by his side, she turned back to face her nightmare, recounting its tale for him even as she recalled each vivid image to her mind.

She is walking the long hallways of the Citadel on Byss, feeling intimidated by the red-clad guards standing watch along the way. They never stir, each staring straight ahead, their faces hidden by blood-red, gleaming masks. But she is wearing a mask herself, can feel it on her skin, even though it is invisible, a shield of emotions. She cannot allow herself to grieve now, even though she does not know who or what she is mourning. But there is a terrible sense of foreboding, of a danger she is afraid to face. Still, she keeps walking, her heart fluttering with dread, her face carefully bereft of expression as she fights for a semblance of dignity. The hallway is dark, the red-cloaked guards the only source of colour. And the walls, wreathed in shadows, seem to converge on her, threatening to crush her resolve, to trap her forever. She takes a deep breath when at last she arrives at the great double-doors that lead to the throne room. They open before her of their own, with no machinery, no hand to aid them. Stepping through into the darkness beyond, Luzaya keeps her eyes straight ahead, on the throne that stands on its lonely perch at the other end of the hall. No light permeates the giant chamber, there is only darkness, and the halo of red sky that frames the distant throne, visible through the large viewport that opens one's view over the planet Byss. The throne, she sees as she comes closer, faces away from her.

Luzaya Dan walks forward steadily, suppressing her mounting fear. She has almost reached the stairs leading up to the dais when her questing foot encounters an obstacle in her path. A hard body, wrapped in soft cloth. She looks down quickly, feeling dizzy with the sense of danger that fills her to bursting. Naas Deron's dark, almost black eyes stare up at her, terribly cold, dead and unmoving. She inhales sharply and tears her gaze away again abruptly. She cannot bear to look at him. She cannot bear to look at his murderer. But she must, she knows she must. So she steps forward, climbs the stairs that lead up onto the dais, until she stands behind the throne, sensing the vast open space of the empty, dark chamber behind her. They are all alone, the three of them, one dead, two living. Luzaya is trembling, torn between desperate love and bottomless grief.

"It is done, then," she whispers. She does not know where she takes the strength from to speak at all. Slowly, the throne turns to face her, making no sound at all.

"It is done, yes," a voice she knows agrees, and Luzaya falls to her knees, unable to bear to look at him at all. His quiet words speak of grief, of a love lost long ago. They share that at last, even if they share nothing else any more. Luzaya feels a tear run down her cheek. "Have you come to judge me?" he asks then, his tone saddening her even more. "Your Emperor?"

She shakes her head. "How can I judge you?"

"To be fair," he says, and a low chuckle rises from his still form. "Did you not judge him too?" He nods toward the man who lies dead behind her, at the foot of the stairs.

"I did," she confesses. "I hated him."

"You never hated me," he muses, his tone one of wonder. "Such a gift ..."

Luzaya, crying openly now, raises her head to look at him once more. "I gave it freely. To you. But I do not know you any more."

She opened her eyes again, feeling the familiar wetness on her cheeks, and moved to wipe the tears away. Sniveling, she gazed at Mahel, expecting him to look confused, but his face bore no expressionless at all.

"Who was it?" he asks at last, his voice rough.

"Someone I love." She shook her head, unable to reveal that last secret. "Someone I would never want to lose. And I will do everything I can to save him. Everything. I cannot imagine, how – " she broke off, shaking her head again. So many meanings to that dream.

"It was a nightmare, Luzaya Dan. You said so yourself," Mahel told her then, soothingly. "It must not mean anything."

"In this house?" The princess shot him a hard glare. "No, Mahel, I do not believe this was just a random dream. The past is still haunting this house, it is in everything around us. Can't you see it? This was where it all began." Her gaze drifted into the distance, as if she could see the future there. I will not let you become a simile of that dream, she vowed to herself. I will not let them win over you. If this nightmare had truly been a vision of the future she had to move soon, and her mother had done right in sending her to Naboo. Only here she could learn what she needed to learn to judge and decide. Her father's fate hung in the balance, as well as her own.

By the time the Millennium Falcon's familiar disc-shaped bulk had settled down on the gloomy patch Doctor Pawal's crew had cleared for the freighter the mood had grown considerably lighter. Perhaps the people working across the mass graveyard of Nzoth were simply looking forward to hearing something from the outside world, anything, that could take their minds of what they were doing here. Digging graves, erecting funeral pyres and taking samples and notes, all the while searching for a clue as to why this masscre had had to happen. Luke and Nuron were still conducting their own investigations, relying heavily on the riddle and clues left behind by Roj Kell. While they had not made much progress in making sense of the message written on the walls of one of the underground caves, they had found other signs of the ancient Sith Lord elsewhere on the planet. So Han Solo, once he had left the ship, found his brother-in-law bent over his datapad, busily typng in coordinates. Luke gave him an absent-minded wave of his hand as welcome, but never averted his gaze from the screens. He had a feeling that he was close to solving this particular riddle.

"Hey, kid, I'd at least thought you'd be a little more enthusiastic about my visiting you on this miserable ball of rock."

Despite his jovial greeting, Han Solo sounded troubled, and Luke could well imagine why. They had not yet managed to clear all of the bodies away, and the Jedi Master was seated on a small rock outcrop that overlooked much of the site where they had dragged the remaining bodies. Looking up just then, Luke saw Nuron loping upward to meet them, her face earnest and composed. She had grown a little more used to the lingering presence of  death here on Nzoth, and her anger had subsided somewhat. Then Luke turned to smile at Han. "You've come alone? Or is Chewie just hiding in there," he added, jerking his chin in the direction of the flat shape of the Falcon.

Solo shook his head, his eyes worried, as he settled down on his haunches beside Luke. "Naw, the Council gave me one of their agents as co-pilot. I had to leave pretty fast. I have a message for you, from Al'than'erudo. It's confidential."

"Oh." Luke's face fell. "You have it on the ship?"

"Yes. And I wouldn't mind getting out of sight of this – whatever it is." Straightening again, Han glanced around critically. Then, arching his brow in a wry gesture, he asked; "Kell's doing?"

"However did you guess?" Luke sighed, then grinned. "We'll make a Jedi of you yet."

Han shrugged. "I wouldn't mind, personally. Would give me an edge over Leia, you know? As for Kell, I kinda got a knack for recognising his handiwork when he was wreacking havoc out in the Unknown Regions.  What's his excuse this time?" he added flippantly, and Luke sighed.

"That's what I'm trying to find out. He left a message, an ethical debate, I believe, and a few other sites  like these," he gestured at the bodies spread out before them.

"The man was sick, no doubt about it," Han commented under his breath, and Luke could feel just how angry his friend was. But when Nuron appeared alongside the two men, both Han and Luke brightened up somewhat. And then Doctor Pawal joined them, his expression one of curious interest.

"Ah, the infamous Han Solo. Welcome to our little nightmare." He gave a half-hearted laugh and extended his hand, which Han grabbed after a moment's suspicious hesitation before shaking it briefly.

"And you are, sir?" the Corellian asked a bit gruffly.

"I am Doctor Anteres Pawal, Preena Institute of Archeology and Bioresearch. I was authorized for a bit of historical detective's work on the demise of the Yevetha. Master Skywalker and Master Sarin-Skywalker are so good as to assist us. They've been very helpful so far, I must add."

Luke frowned ever so slightly. Pawal must have guessed that Han was sent by the Council, and assumed that the Corellian would report back to his superiors, making it necessary to placate him a bit. The Jedi Master though was confident that Han would not be easily fooled. Besides, once they were aboard the Falcon they could discuss the news more openly.

"Is that so," Han replied at length, still sizing the scientist up with his most disapproving expression. "Then I'm real sorry having to inform you that the Council has need of Master Skywalker's services elsewhere. I fear you'll have to conduct your investigations on your own from now on."

"Unfortunate!" Pawal exclaimed, then smiled. "Of course, I would not want to hamper Master Skywalker in the execution of his duties toward the Council. I will, though, require what information he and his charming companion have uncovered so far. If that is permissible?"

"No problems with me," Han told Pawal, already turning away to speak to Nuron, leaving Luke to deal with the man.

Pawal, gave a slow nod and folded his hands in front of his body in an almost demure gesture. "When the Council summons you, you are certainly excused from this contract. I dearly hope it is nothing too risky?"

"The mission briefing yet awaits me," Luke answered truthfully, forcing himself to be pleasant. No need to put Pawal off. The man was hostile as it was. "Here are the latest findings I could come up with," he added then, gesturing at his datapad. "You'll find that the sites we found all connect in a sort of pattern. I am not certain what that pattern means. It could be a star-chart, coordinates, anything, really. But I trust your archeologists will find out in due time. You might want to look to Ordesha for some clues."

"Ordesha?" Pawal asked, bewildered. "Why there?"

"Roj Kell's homeworld. As far as I know nobody thought it worth researching so far. It might be a good idea, though. Just a suggestion." And a false trail for the dear Doctor to follow, too. Strangely enough, Luke did not feel in the least guilty for that little lie. It was no lie, actually, just a helpful hint. More or less helpful. Father's having a bad influence on me, the Jedi Master thought, grinning inwardly. Then, though, with a slight shudder, he remembered whose presence exactly held sway here on Nzoth. If Kell was still manipulating the galaxy's fate, even from beyond the grave, nothing was certain at all. Nodding at Pawal, Luke turned away to join his wife and their friend.

"Hey kid, Nuron tells me she'd be very happy to leave at once. Shall we go? That message I spoke about, I think it is really urgent."

"Tell me, Han," Luke asked then, keeping his tone very light, "you didn't, by any chance, sneak a peek at that message, did you?"

"Are you mad?" the Corellian protested, as he lead the couple over to the Falcon. "Al'than'erudo has secured it with some Force spell, for all I know!" He flashed a grin at the Jedi Master over his shoulder. "Nah, you know I'd never dare. I asked your father."

Smiling in response, Luke hurried after Han and Nuron, and soon they were safe from prying eyes and ears in the Falcon's rec room. Settling into the crash couch beside his wife, Luke put an arm around her shoulder unabashed, and ignored the grin Han shot the two of them. The Corellian looked good, relaxed, and all of his worry seemed to have disappeared once he had stepped inside the Millenium Falcon's entry hatch. It pleased Luke to see his friend reasonably happy, and he thought that, all in all, the years that had passed since the founding of the Sith Empire had been good to all of them. Looking around the rec room, Luke nodded to himself, then said, "So, is everyone all right on Naboo? No major mishaps, no catastrophes?"

"You've been out of touch, Luke. There's trouble aplenty, if you look close enough. Mostly with the Empire." And then Han proceeded to tell the couple of the recent attempts on Franzis Sarreti's life, the request Al'than'erudo had made concerning Jacen and Jaina, and of course he mentioned the message the Head of the Council had asked him to carry out o Nzoth. "You can use the holoreader right there," he said, as he threw a datacard at the Jedi Master, who caught it expertly.  "Since this is confidential," Han added, making as if to rise, but Luke waved him down again.

"It's okay. I don't have any secrets I would not share with you, or Nuron, for that matter." Leaning forward, Luke pushed the datacard in its appropriate slot, then waited for the holoreader to activate. When it did, it required a password idenification. Taken aback momentarily, Luke shook his head, then carefully pushed the activation key, prompting the reader to give an annoyed rattle.

"Don't tell me the password is – " Han exclaimed, but then his suspicion was confirmed, when the datareader smoothly moved into display mode and a holographic screen appeared above the top of the game table in front of the couch. "Weird," the Corellian declared, making Nuron smile. But soon the trio's mood darkened, as they read the message sent to the Naboo Council by Naas Deron. Han was the first to find his vocie again. "Cannot guarantee the safety of the Empire's citizens?" he exclaimed, clearly agitated. "Then why can't he just go off and wait until he's cooled off? That's irresponsible! And he wants you to shepherd him and take responsibilities that he admits he won't be able to carry? The man is mad!"

"He is Cor'dan," Luke reasoned quietly.

"That's what I just said!" Han shouted, then calmed down a bit, looking embarrassed. "Your father, of course, is a notable exception in that regard," he explained hurriedly.

Beside Luke Nuron shifted in her seat and pulled up her knees on the couch, resting her shoulder against her husband's, and settled her arm on his carefully. "What he is trying to say, I believe," she told them, "is that he won't be able to take those responsibilities because he will be unable to prevent collateral damage. It is not his wish, but he has forseen it. He expects a conflict between the Sith Empire and the New Republic, and if the Cor'dan interferes in such a conflict the consequences might indeed be dire."

"But he would be fighting for the Empire, wouldn't he?" Han asked, uncomprehending. "How then could he threaten their citizens' safety."

Luke was silent for some time, pondering Nuron's comment and Han's question. There was something both were overlooking, but he was very conscious of it. "Years and years ago," he began, "shortly after we defeated the old empire, the most senior members of the Jedi Order reportedly discussed how they would begin anew. They agreed, and I concur, that the Jedi cannot again be as prominent in the public consciouness as they were in the Old Republic. Yoda and Chi'in were in accord with Roj Kell there, all of them claiming that to be what they were destined to be the new order of guardians would have to remain independent of any government. They would have to be elusive too, and not advertise publicly. Their duty would be to all peoples living within the galaxy, but also to the Force, to life itself. Naas Deron is aware of that heritage. If there is going to be a conflict between the New Republic and the Sith Empire I for one would not discount the fact that he would choose neither side. After all, he is Cor'dan, you said it just now, Han. And I believe what we have here, on Nzoth, bears testimony to what it sometimes mean to be Cor'dan. "

"What the heck are you getting at?" Han demanded, sounding angry, "That it is okay to massacre innocent people if it benefits the future of all? What kind of reasoning is that?"

"The rules of survival," Nuron injected softly. "I knew we'd get a problem with that."

"With what?" Han grated out harshly.

"With the Cor'dan, of course," she replied calmly, but the look in her golden eyes bore a clear warning.

"And with the Jedi," Luke added quickly. "Don't you see? Al'than'erudo is trying to get me involved in galactic matters, to use me for his ends. But I cannot follow his decisions. I have to make my own."

"Someone's got to keep an eye on Deron. You can't deny that." Han said, shaking his head violently. "You can't leave him unsupervised."

"But that is not my job, Han," Luke explained, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I must follow my own judgement. And that tells me that I need to find out just what is going wrong. If I can do that then Naas Deron will never be forced to make the choice he describes in that message."

Han gave him a blank stare, then smiled. "You're as clever as your father," he declared. "At least as clever," he added generously. "Or Leia, come to speak of cleverness."

"What is your plan?" Nuron asked, her mouth so close he could feel her warm breath on his face.

Luke hesitated, before he turned his head to look into his wife's golden eyes. "I am going into the Sith Empire. Snoop around. Follow what trails I can find."

"You'll need someone to watch your back," she reasoned, but he shook his head immediately.

"No. I need to do this alone. Han is too well known to accompany me, and you – I want you to look after the children. Take Khameir and the Morning Glory and go to Naboo, to Amerie. Perhaps you can assist Father in whatever it is he's going to do. He won't stay idle, that's for sure." He could see that she was dissatisfied with his proposal, but in the end she relented and gave a mute nod. With a bright little smile Luke rose from his seat, "Let's go, then. We've got no more time to waste."

TBC