A/N: This chapter took a long time. However, I think it's one of the best chapters I've done so far in this story. All of the credit for that goes to my beta readers, Great One and Master Mono. If anyone wants to beta, send me a PM. I could always use more help. In other news, it's almost my one-year anniversary on fanfiction!Thanks for always being such an awesome fan community.

I sighed loudly, deactivating my lightsaber. It vanished with a soft hiss. "Ricco, it's no use," I said, raising my voice to be heard over his loud groaning. "I just don't think you can use the Force. We've been at this for days, and so far all you've managed to do is give yourself an unwanted haircut." He stuck out his lower lip, suddenly looking much younger than I had originally perceived him to be.

"Yeah, well, explain how I activated it in the first place," he retorted, a defiant scowl on his face. "Only Jedi can activate lightsabers, if I'm supposed to believe everything you've said to me." My face flushed with anger and Ricco smirked; it was obvious that he had touched a nerve.

"You're forgetting your place. I am the more experienced one here, and your captain ordered you to listen to my instructions. If I say you can't use the Force, you can't! Besides, I'm older than you, and age determines who's in charge." It may have sounded authoritative, but I was reminded of the relationship of my parents, and decided that age didn't always denote a leader. The result was a long statement full of large but very hollow words. "And about only Jedi being able to use lightsabers? I was just saying that to make you feel better!"

Ricco's eyes suddenly got wider, a sign I had come to interpret as the beginning of a revelation about the Force, the Jedi, or something else that he found incredibly fascinating. "Okay, maybe I can't use the Force," he admitted, and it took all of my self-control to keep from swelling with pride. "But I can definitely sense it. It's like one giant web that we're all attached to, and if one of us were to fall out of it, there would be traces of destruction all across the galaxy."

I raised my eyebrows. Perhaps there was some understanding in this boy's mind after all. "When you say us," I said slowly, pacing about the cargo hold Han had designated for lightsaber practice in the manner of my master. "I assume you mean the Jedi."

"No, no," he answered, shaking his head vigorously so that his brown hair flailed about wildly. He took on a hungry, fanatic look, like a tribal nomad seeing Coruscant for the first time. "It's more than just that. Every single sentient being in the galaxy is connected through it, even if they're unaware of the Force within them. The Jedi aren't any more unified than anyone else in the galaxy is, they're just more alert to that fact. And with that knowledge, they can do what no one else can."

"Those are big words for a little kid," I scoffed. "You speak of something you've never been exposed to. I must admit, your take on the Force is…enlightening. I do think your theory has potential. However, I have been studying this subject for my entire life, while you have been running around the Outer Rim for the majority of yours."

"That's not true!" he shouted. "It's not true," he repeated in a calmer tone. "You are no greater than I am. I've felt connected to the rest of the galaxy ever since I was born. So you fight with a refined weapon and know fancy battle moves. All I have is this piece of crud," he said, pulling out his blaster, "and I get along just fine."

His monologue humbled me, and I recalled my behavior from the beginning of the trip. "I'm sorry. You're right, I was being arrogant. Last time I was acting that way, I wound up with this," I pointed to the scar on my face. "I suppose I've been sheltered most of my life."

"You don't know just how true that is," Ricco muttered. "And you know what else? You don't know anything about the way I've been living. He treats me really well, buys me all the stuff I need, and most of it's stuff he didn't have. He's had a tough life. I know he wants to make it better for me, and he does a good job of it, but it's never good enough for him. I would take a bullet for my captain," he declared, and he got that look in his eyes again.

"He's a great man," I agreed. (I had almost said, "He's a great father" instead, but I caught myself.) "Well, that's all for training today. I'm too drained to fight, even if I needed to, so it's best if we call it quits." Ricco nodded, then ran to see what Captain Solo wanted him to do next. I retreated into a corner of the hold, sitting down in between two old crates, my back against the side of one and my feet against the other. It was a nice place to think, and thinking was something that I needed to do right then.

Our progress had been delayed despite the fast pace of the Falcon en route to Alderaan. We had no backup, no way of getting on to the planet undetected, and Anakin was most likely on our trail with a few members of the Jedi council. I whipped out a datapad with a map of our course on it. I had infused it with sonar capabilities, then linked it to the ship's onboard computer. Looking at the map I was able to see a fairly large vessel approaching at a steady pace. This was unnerving for two reasons: it was quite obviously following us, and it was from Coruscant.

I pulled out my comlink. While I could have just ran to the cockpit and told Han what was happening, by then the ship could have closed in on us. I shouted into the handheld device, "Captain, we're being followed!"

The muffled answer suggested that my father had been taking a little nap. "Well, get up here an' help-" Suddenly, the transmission was interrupted. I tapped the little device, hoping to get a better signal, until some of the words came in clear. However, it wasn't Han's voice on the other end. "Grace? Is this the comlink of Grace Shmi Solo?" questioned the man who contacted me. He sounded to be older; his calm voice spoke with a distinctive waver.

"Yes," I answered. Stupid! You don't even know who he is.

"Good," he replied cheerily. "Grace, this is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am currently tailing your craft, the smuggling ship known as the Millennium Falcon, piloted by Captain Han Solo and the Wookiee Chewbacca, who are traveling with a boy of about fourteen and yourself. It is my understanding that you are on your way to Alderaan, where you believe that your mother, the Jedi Master Leia Skywalker, called Janren, is being held prisoner. Am I correct in these assumptions?"

I swallowed, trying to find my voice. "Yes," I choked. "This is true. Master, have you come from the council to collect me? Master Skywalker tried just a few days ago to do the very same thing."

"Is this mission authorized?" he inquired, ignoring my response.

"No," I admitted. "I went in hopes of finding my master. I was concerned for her. She was the only one of the delegates to go missing, and she has already been attacked once in her life. It was by a Sith lord who hoped to bring her to the Dark Side. Because she has been singled out, I though it might be the same person behind both kidnappings."

"First of all, I know that she is your mother, and you may refer to her as such from here on out." The blunt statement eliminated any doubt from my mind. "Also, you have overlooked a crucial element to the plot, one that could land you in great danger. Suppose the kidnapper is not this Sith you mentioned. You would have abandoned the life you led to save someone who may have already escaped for all we know. Even if he is a Sith, how would you take him down alone? Your father and brother would be able to help you, but in the end it would be your ultimate demise. And if the target is not-"

"Brother?" I interjected.

He paused; for a moment the only sound was his breathing. "Right, sorry. I…I must've been thinking of your mother." There was another pause, and then Master Kenobi spoke again, "You need an ally, Padawan. I will agree to help you only because Anakin Skywalker was like a brother to me. I would not wish to see his grandchildren perish." The door to the cargo hold burst open, and I strained to hear the end of his message. "Land outside the home of the viceroy of Alderaan. They have been informed that you are on your way to help locate your comrade and sort out the difficulties surrounding the meetings there."

The cause of the door's sudden opening was revealed: my father was breathing heavily, glaring in my direction. "What…why…you should be helping us!" he snapped. "I don't understand! The krething ship's still following us, and you're sitting on your butt, chatting? You're supposed to take action in these kinds of situations."

"That was Master Kenobi," I replied calmly. "You're right, I should have helped you, but he interrupted the transmission. He's the one following us. It turns out that not everyone on the council is after us like a bunch of bounty hunters. Obi-Wan agreed to help us because he doesn't think we can do it alone."

"Sounds like a self-righteous old grouch," Han muttered.

I continued my explanation despite my father's obvious show of 'optimism.' "He says we're to report to a landing pad just outside of the viceroy's home."

"Wait a minute," Han said, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "I know the layout of Alderaan better than most people. Did you actually hear him say the words, 'landing pad?'"

"Well, no," I admitted. "But I assumed that was what he meant. He wouldn't have us just landing out in the middle of nowhere, would he?"

"That'd be better," he replied dejectedly. "We're gonna land in the middle of a city."

At first I didn't believe my father, mainly because I didn't want to. True, the Falcon wasn't the prettiest of spacecraft, but I couldn't bear to attempt a landing in a situation where it might scratch the surrounding buildings. It seemed like a crazy idea. It wasn't that hard to believe that Master Kenobi would suggest it, given his background. While he had originally been a very stable Jedi master, years of experience from training with Qui-Gon Jinn, a rather eccentric man, had shaped his outlook on the world. Lately, he had defied the council more often than he wanted his students to know.

Luckily, there was a clearing large enough to serve as a landing pad, and Han set her down without causing much of a disturbance. Already a short man with gray hair was walking up the road toward us. Ricco ran out of the hatch, ready to prove himself as a member of the crew. "Hello, son," said the man. "You must be here to see the viceroy."

"Yeah," Ricco grunted. He slouched nonchalantly, as if he handled this kind of thing everyday. "Captain Solo and the other passenger have an audience with him. That ain't a problem, right?" I noted that he only used slang when he wanted to make an impression on someone. In the years he'd spent with Han, he must've picked up a few tips on how to deal with a variety of shifty characters, though this little messenger was hardly a thief.

"Oh, no, of course not," the man replied anxiously, wringing his hands. When my head appeared in the doorway, he smiled widely, then ran up to greet me. Shaking my hand, he said, "And this must be Gracie. Oh, what a pleasure it is to see you finally." He moved his mouth closer to my ear. "I know the Jedi have at least taught you some manners," he whispered, with a little nod in Ricco's direction.

"He's not a bad kid, really!" I protested. I wasn't quite sure why I should defend him. After all, it was only this morning that he'd proven he was capable of defending himself. Still, it angered me that he would make such a general assumption of a boy he'd only just met. "He just likes to make a lasting impression. He works for-"

"I don't care to know who," the man hissed. "Ah, Captain Solo! So good of you to join us. The viceroy will see you in a few minutes, if you'll just come this way." As we turned to leave, I felt a strong gust of wind and a great presence through the Force. I didn't need to look to know that Master Kenobi had just landed behind us.

"Here is the main reception room," the messenger's voice echoed throughout the marble hall. Along the way, he had blabbered on and on about the history of the artwork and the historic set of clone armor that was on display in a glass case. Upon seeing the armor, my father had commented that the DC-17 must've given the Separatists "a hell of a wakeup call". Since then, we had kept our reactions to oohs and aahs. "Viceroy Organa will be with you shortly," the man finished with a short bow and a glare at Han. "Please, help yourselves to some wine, it is the finest we have to offer. But not…too…much." The last three words were spat in my father's direction; he pretended not to notice, but made a rude hand gesture at the servant's back. Ricco howled with laughter.

"Don't ever let me catch you doin' that, kid," he growled, but he seemed to almost be making a joke. Ricco smiled innocently.

After what felt like a long time spent in the musty room, the viceroy entered through a side door. Captain Solo had been helping himself to another glass of wine, but at the sight of the ruler and his commanding presence, he spit the remainder out, spilling it all over his shirt. "Go ahead, no one else is going to drink it," the tall, bearded man laughed. "I'm Bail Organa, and you must be the captain of the lovely ship sitting outside my room."

"I can move it if you want," he replied nervously. "Didn't know politicians were so sarcastic."

"Oh, that's not what I meant at all! She's a real treasure," Bail confirmed. "You better hold onto her. As for the meeting, there are a few things we need to discuss." He rolled out a sheet of flimsi on the small, oval table in the center of the room. "This red dot here," he said, gesturing to a place on a map of Alderaan, "is where we lost contact with the team of Jedi. Some of them were later traced to this blue dot here. However, we never heard back from Master Janren. We believe that you should probably start your search here." Han nodded in agreement. "It shouldn't take you that much time by landspeeder, probably less than a standard hour. I suggest you set off soon, but you might need a bit of equipment. If you head this way," he motioned towards a long corridor; "there's an armory through the third door on the left. Thank you so much for helping us out."

"Any time," Han replied. "Gracie, Ricco, let's go." Ricco ran to catch up with his captain. I lagged behind slightly, waving goodbye to Viceroy Organa as I left. It surprised me when he approached me at the door.

"Gracie, may I talk to you for a moment?" he asked politely. I shrugged. "Good, then," he said in a friendly tone, shutting the door behind him. I became instantly alarmed, and my hand went to my lightsaber. "It's all right, have a seat. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just here to talk to you about your grandmother."

"My…grandmother?"

"You see," Bail said, sighing, "Senator Amidala and I were very good friends. I always turned to her for guidance. She, in turn, confided in me her darkest secrets. When she was secretly married I was the first and only outsider to know. It was weighing her down greatly, so I offered to help her in any way I could. She also told me of the trip to Coruscant, and how Han Solo had flown her family there. I soon learned that her daughter, Leia, had gotten married in a similar manner and broken the code. I was even present at your brother's birth."

"What's this about a brother?" I interrupted. "First Master Kenobi mentions him, and now you. I can't see how I wouldn't know about my own siblings."

Bail looked surprised. "You haven't been told? Ah, well, you'll figure him out soon enough." The politician chuckled. "Gave me quite a scare there when I first saw him. As I was saying, I have noted a serious flaw in the Republic." He strode over to a large window that gave him a perfect panoramic view of the lakes below. "It is, without a doubt, the Jedi Order."

"What?" I was appalled. "All the Jedi have ever done is give their lives in service to the Republic and all of its people! How can you say that we are the reason the Republic is crumbling? If it is any one group causing the problem, it's your blasted Senate."

"Gracie, think about it. The numbers of Jedi are seriously dwindling. More and more Jedi are breaking the restrictions set upon them, and many have left altogether. I'm sure you've heard of the Lost Twenty?" He sighed again. "It's become many more than that as of late. There is a reason for this.

"It's the Jedi code. The order is flawed. The Republic leans on you like a crutch, but if the crutch is already weak, the Republic will fall. I can't blame you for feeling angry, but you must admit that there is weakness within the Jedi way. I'm against abolishing it altogether. I do, however, support its reform."

"I understand," I agreed.

He took me by the shoulders. "I need you to do something for me. Carry on this message to the Jedi council. I don't want to see another family torn, or worse, another child torn from their family. That's what they do, Gracie, if you're not as lucky as you were. They take them away, and the parents never see their child again. I've seen it before. It tears the family apart, even if they manage to survive the heartache."

"I will, Bail," I said proudly. "I'll pass it on."

"Good girl," he said with a fatherly smile. "I know I can trust you. I can still see a bit of your grandmother in you. Go on, now." He turned his head towards the door; just outside of it there was a large crash followed by some particularly explicit Corellian swear words. "By the sound of things, your father's looking for you."

I got up and turned the doorknob. "One more question: what is my brother's name?"

"You'll see, eventually," he replied. I sighed, then exited. These vague answers were really starting to bug me. Just as I left, I noticed a large binder full of similar sheets of flimsi resting on a pedestal outside of the door. The heading on the top of its cover caught my eye. I didn't know what it meant, so I slipped it under my cloak as I left. Bail hadn't even noticed me.

"Gracie, move it!" Ricco yelled. Despite his complaints that I was walking too slowly, I opened it and began to read. The title page still unnerved me, but I knew the book would prove useful somehow. The rather curious front page was followed by a list of signatures. It read:

NEW JEDI ORDER BILL

I hardly noticed the older man with the white beard passing by me and disappearing out of my field of vision. However, his Force signature still didn't fade away. Strange that he seemed to be directly behind me. I shrugged it off with some difficulty; it was hard to shake off the sensation of someone was breathing right down my neck. "I hope you're more alert in combat," a voice said next to my ear. It was the same voice from the conversation on the comlink before.

"Master Kenobi!" I shouted, then spoke again in a more controlled whisper. "I wasn't expecting you to follow me out. I thought you would meet Viceroy Organa in his private room and then find us later. I should have been more alert to your presence," I said, looking away. The Jedi master walked around to face me. "I'm sorry."

His face was full of wisdom, and a subtle sense of humor that rarely showed. I wondered how it had been for him to train Anakin Skywalker. "That's all right," he replied with a smile. "And to answer your second question, yes, it was a challenge to train your grandfather. I remember him being somewhat impatient, and a little like you. He also had a temper, one I believe he passed on to his daughter."

"I know what you mean," I agreed, rolling my eyes.

"It's not polite to speak of your master in such a manner," he chided. I looked at my feet again. Obi-Wan must have thought I was a terrible Padawan. "But I understand. You've got a lot on your mind, Gracie, and not all of it about my former apprentice. For example, the bill," he said, pointing to the binder I was holding. "Ordinarily I'd reprimand you for stealing. However, you were acting on your feelings, and this will help us, I'm sure. For now, we really should catch up with your father and…that mechanic boy."

I followed him back through the halls of the Organa home. The viceroy's servants walked past us, carrying multiple stacks of datapads and sheets of flimsi. Several of them bowed respectfully upon seeing Master Kenobi and myself. "Just think, Gracie," the old man said with enthusiasm. "If this mission goes well, you just might be promoted to knight. If, of course, the New Jedi Order bill is passed."

"What if it isn't passed?" I asked nervously. "What if they turn it down? I don't even know what's in that bill, let alone how it could help us. It just seemed like it was important." We headed out the main exit and back to where the Falcon was outside. The ship had been causing quite a commotion among the locals, who seemed shocked when we boarded the vessel. Apparently we weren't the kind of passengers they had expected. Ricco and Han were already in the cockpit waiting for us to arrive. My father's hazel eyes widened when he saw Master Kenobi, but he let the man enter without any questions.

"The information," Kenobi addressed all of us once the hatch had been closed, "is exactly what Bail told Gracie about. The Jedi order is indeed weak, and the viceroy has developed a proposal. He and his fellow politicians decided that it would be best if the Senate intervened. While this is not something I would like to see, it is necessary for some changes to take place. If the bill is rejected, when you return home all of you will be removed from the Jedi order and denied the right to train with them in the future. I may also be demoted from the Council for hiding your secret. However, there may be a way not only for Gracie to remain within the order, but also for the rest of you to apprentice despite your age."

"That's a real nice plan you got there," my father interrupted. "But how's it gonna work? Besides, I ain't Force-sensitive. And neither is Ricco, right?" He nudged Ricco's leg with his boot. "So even if it did work, the training would be a waste."

"But I can use the Force!" Ricco whined. "Tell him, Master Obi-Wan. Tell him I'm right! Say I can use the Force!"

"Half-right, actually," he replied. "You both can." He stood back, watching our confused expressions with a humored smile. Han was staring at him, looking disgusted. "What's the matter? It isn't that complicated. You never knew your parents, did you, Han?"

"No," my father said slowly. "But wouldn't I know by now if they were Jedi? I've been around Gracie and Ricco and Leia for years, not to mention the entire Skywalker family. I wasn't able to tell when Palpatine took Leia, and I've never shown any signs of it before."

"You've shown plenty of signs. Although it's a bit hard to tell, your body has always been able to take much more physical strain than the normal human being. Part of the reason why you were so capable of learning and understanding the Wookiee language is that you can sense the feelings and sentiments behind Chewbacca's words, no matter how subtle. You can detect emotion far better than you think you can. That is one of the many reasons that you could communicate with Leia through the bond. And, not to take any of the credit away from your wife, how else could your children be so strong in the Force? It can't just be luck, Han. You can't make it this far relying entirely on that."

"I…I guess it makes sense." The captain sat down in the pilot's chair. I could sense that my father had been so overwhelmed by Obi-Wan's revelation, he no longer had the will to stand. "I just can't believe it," he admitted. "Your argument is perfectly fine. I should believe it, but I can't. Why wouldn't my family tell me? They can all sense these things."

"It's a very weak signal," Master Kenobi explained. "Hardly showed up on my radar. Leia knows about it, I'm almost sure. Perhaps they didn't want to shock you. The news has caught you rather off guard. I suppose you never had your blood tested for midi-chlorians as a child. Not to worry, I'll teach you what you need to know in case we ever wind up in combat where Jedi skills would be needed. You'll be able to at least sense the presence of everyone here in no time. Once you learn their Force signatures, you can help them stay out of trouble. Especially this one over here," he joked, ruffling Ricco's hair. "I'll bet he's a handful."

"You're the one who's half-right this time. He's two," Han said. Ricco pretended to look innocent for the second time that day. I sighed. Only in my family. "But," my father added, "don't think I'm givin' in to your little theory. I want a midi-chlorian test. That's the only solid proof that'll convince me."