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Skywalker: Resurgent Ch.14: Flesh for Credits: A Deplorable Practice

* * * SHADOWCAST MESSAGE TRAFFIC * * *

DETECTED . . . .

RECEIVING . . . .

AUTHENTICATING . . . .

AUTHENTICATION COMPLETE

DECRYPTION KEY REQUIRED . . . .

KEY CONFIRMED

DECRYPTING . . . .

DECRYPTION COMPLETE

Commander Skywalker,

Firstly, I hope this message finds you in good health. I apologize for not being able to communicate via more convenient means but my current circumstances require a certain level of security. According to Leia and General Kenobi, you are a highly practical individual and are not inclined to take offense but I hope for your understanding all the same.

While we have not had the pleasure of meeting, our mutual acquaintances have spoken highly of you and I confess to being something of an admirer of your recent publications. To say that I was surprised to first hear of them is putting it mildly. From my own past interaction with Jedi, I found few of them were inclined to such forms of public expression, let alone for topics relating to the Force. That your teacher is often here with me to confirm your writings as truth only makes them all the more compelling.

What you have achieved in the short time you've been with us is nothing short of impressive. Rogue Cell's combat record has been exemplary and your own recent excursion and encounter with Lord Vader has been the talk of the cantina wherever Alliance members go. While there are those who expressed their doubts as to your rapid rise in rank, you can rest assured that those doubts have been put to rest as far as I'm concerned.

I hope to meet you in person at a future date. Until then, know that I and the Alliance are grateful for the fine work you've done. You have given new hope to many who thought there was none to be found.

Regards,

Chairwoman Mon Mothma

Alliance Command Council

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

Aboard the Millennium Falcon; en route to Kessel

Kessel was without a doubt the ugliest place I'd ever laid eyes on.

A misshapen rock colored in brown and darker brown, it certainly had little appeal as we made our approach in the Falcon. While the planet was once supposedly once quite beautiful, a massive impact had ripped off much of the planet's mass, leaving it scarred too terribly for sapient life. No plant or animal life survived on its barren surface and the atmosphere was so thin that large atmospheric generators were relied upon to keep the surface habitable without everyone needing to wear a special suit or breathing apparatus.

What's worse; the planet's core was severely damaged in the cataclysm. The resulting shift permanently altered the gravity of the world, meaning it was possible to walk normally for a hundred steps, only to suddenly have the gravity cut to a fraction of its pull a moment later. Navigation was a tricky affair, with only certain lanes of traffic being viable for safe passage and making any unauthorized landing a potentially deadly crash. Capital ship-grade gravity generators were littered around the planet's sole settlement to keep it safe for approach.

Of course, it would still just be a worthless piece of real estate of it weren't for one overriding reason; Spice. Specifically glitterstim but there were other chemicals that could be cultivated here in the interest of turning a greater profit. Much of it even had legal purposes, giving Kessel just enough legitimacy in the eyes of the law to keep it operating. Everyone 'knew' Kessel was a hub of illegal activity, but nobody actually expected anything to be done about it.

Of course, the Empire had made their own claim to this world too. They'd built a massive holding complex/prison for various political agitators, criminals, and even those who's only crime was pissing off the wrong official. Many of the prisoners there were used as a manual labor force, which led to the fearsome reputation of Kessel spreading even further.

Even worse was the fate of those poor souls who ended up in the custody of the Kessel mines for a lifetime sentence. Whether they were slaves bought from the Hutts or acquired from the Imperial facility after being 'lost' due to 'accidents,' it was a miserable fate to spend whatever life they had left in those underground tunnels, likely never seeing the sky again and ending their days in a dark tunnel.

The average life expectancy of a spice miner on Kessel was distressingly short.

"Definitely not happy to be coming back here," Han remarked aloud, breaking me from my thoughts.

We were aboard the Millennium Falcon for this trip. I'd asked Han for any advice with dealing with criminal contacts on Kessel and he'd given me a look before saying that he'd be coming along. Apparently, he didn't think anyone would take me seriously and I might get screwed out of the deal.

"No feelings of nostalgia at coming back here?" I asked him. "We're pretty close to the Kessel Run. No returning feelings of triumph coming back to you?"

"Bragging rights aside, It wasn't exactly my proudest moment," he grunted. "I was sold out by Moruth Doole. The only reason I made such good time was because I was trying to escape a patrol cruiser. Even then, I still had to dump the spice and had Jabba on my ass for paying him back."

Han practically growled the name of the amphibious Rybet who sold him out. He hadn't exactly been glad to get confirmation from me that he'd been sold out by his smuggling contact for Jabba, but he did acknowledge that it made a certain kind of sense. Imperial patrols may be a fact of life for smugglers but Han had never been cornered like that before. That cruiser knew exactly who and what they were looking for, which had always struck Han as more than a little suspicious.

Han acknowledged that while it was also an especially stupid move on the Rybet's part, prolonged glitterstim use tended to have that sort of effect on a being's long term thinking. Doole was apparently just the right blend of arrogant and stupid to think that he was able to naturally overcome such side effects as rampant paranoia and a damaged brain chemistry. What he didn't escape was Jabba's retribution; getting one of his eyes cut out as payment for messing with his business.

Both Han and Chewie agreed that it served him right but they still were pissed off by the betrayal. They didn't have a clue what could've given Doole the idea that they were plotting against him and neither did I. I also brought up that I was concerned about the possibility that Doole might hear that we were coming to Kessel and try to sabotage or ambush us once we got there. Han assured me he wasn't using Doole as a contact and in any case, the Rybet wouldn't be stupid enough to try double cross him again.

I still planned to keep my blaster and lightsaber close for this trip.

"Well, you're free and clear now," I replied, leaning back in my seat. "Jabba's off your back and you've got nothing but open space ahead of you. We're even picking up some extra goods on this trip. On your advice, no less."

Yeah, Han had been the one to suggest that to add to our cover, we should pick up more than just four prisoners. If we were only asking for the people, we might draw undue attention and someone might get the idea they can either screw us or at least earn a little something by telling the wrong people what we were up to. So, Han had suggested we pick up a few crates of spice as well.

Before I could chew my friend out for trying to turn a rescue into an illegal business venture, he had reminded me that spice, even the highly controlled glitterstim, had perfectly legal uses. The Alliance could actually make use of the stuff for perfectly legal reasons and might even be willing to sponsor their mission with a bit of extra cash if we offered to procure it for them.

Long story short, he was right and we now had a bit of extra funding for this venture that wasn't coming out of my operating budget.

"Think you ever might make this a regular thing again?" I asked casually. "Picking up work on Kessel, I mean."

There was a noticeable pause in the cockpit as the only sound was the beeping of the controls and Chewie flicking a switch.

"Not particularly," Han replied, sounding at ease. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason in particular," I assured him. "I'm just a little surprised. You stay on the fence about ever signing up for the Alliance but keep showing up and helping out. You know you could probably just ask for a commission and be given one, right? Not to brag, but you'd have some pretty big names to put down on your resume."

"I've told you before that it's not my fight," Han grumbled. "I'm not about revolutions and whatnot. I'm doing my own thing now. You've got enough folks around you who are all about the cause or whatever, so just leave me out of it."

"Technically it's a galactic civil war, but we'll leave that for the historians to decide," I remarked. "But you really need to sort out this issue with causes that you have. Not just because I think you should join up - because I do - but because I worry about you. You can't just sit on the fence your whole life."

We were retreading old ground with this conversation. Han, despite his continued appearances and assistance either in missions like to Cymoon I or just in ferrying Leia around, was still unwilling to 'officially' join up. It caused a bit of a concern by folks who didn't know him, since it was considered that he might sell information on us to the Empire or even one of his smuggling contacts for a payout. His repeated assistance in things like navigating the Outer Rim territories and providing useful intel had quelled a lot of that but it didn't completely eliminate it.

After all, how could we completely trust a man who claimed no allegiance to our cause?

"You keep showing up, making yourself useful, and seem to mostly just hog a spot on the Resurgent's hangar deck for conducting maintenance as payment," I listed. "Seems like a better than fair exchange to me.

"We also steal food and tools," he protested.

"I take it back," I said, rolling my eyes. "You're a real pirate. Total scum. I now wonder why we ever put up with you."

Chewie growled a question.

"No, Chewie. Of course not," I reassured him. "You're always a delight to have around."

He chuffed acknowledgement and nodded, satisfied.

"I'm just saying," I continued. "You say you're not one for causes but clearly aren't all about the money. You're talented, driven, and smart. You can succeed at whatever you put your mind to. You shouldn't have to hide your motives. Especially not among friends."

"Can we change the conversation topic?" Han complained.

"Of course," I replied easily. "Got any good smuggler stories?"

Han was quiet for a few seconds before letting out a sigh.

"Well," he drawled. "There was this one time Chewie and I were stage hands for a magic show. Remember that time on - whatsitsname, the planet with that bar run by that guy with the glitchy serving droids? You remember, Chewie? Eh, whatever. Anyway, we had this scam going where we got into contact with this Moff's secretary..."

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

As if the planet's appearance wasn't bad enough, there was a smell to match it.

I did my best to keep the grimace off my face as the Falcon's ramp lowered and I got my first taste of Kessel's air quality. Even beneath the dark hood and facemask I was wearing, it felt as if the smell was hitting me from all sides as it sent a tingle down the back of my neck.

"Before you ask, the answer is no," Han remarked. "The smell doesn't get any better."

I grunted in a mix of disgust and acknowledgement at his remark.

Even for a deserted landing pad, this place was a dump. We were basically just standing on a rusted durasteel slab with enough space for the Falcon to park and little else. A couple of the landing lights were still working but this place had definitely seen better days. It's location on the far edge of the sprawling compound of industrial buildings likely meant this place wasn't used often, save for the occasional illicit activity like ours. Judging by the dust, scrap metal, and grime accumulated in some areas, this place wasn't even regularly visited by a cleaning droid.

As the three of us descended the ramp, it didn't surprise me to find an armed group already waiting for us a short distance away. Two of their number were the typical dumb muscle but it was the man in the center who seemed to be in charge. He was a rather well kempt looking human male with a seemingly professional bearing and militaristic looking fatigues. He wore a heavy looking double barrel blaster pistol at his hip while his backup carried unremarkable looking rifles, kept pointed down but ready.

His friendly tone when he spoke did nothing to put me at ease.

"Han Solo, is that really you?"

I sensed the spike in tension at the mention of his name but Han didn't let any trace of it show in his response.

"Or at least a great impersonation," he called back. "I'm here for the pickup."

"We haven't seen you here for a while, Solo," the man replied. "We thought you'd finally bought it out there."

"Well, I have a habit of staying ahead of the competition," Han replied glibly. "Imps couldn't keep me down and now that I've paid off my debts to Jabba, I'm onto bigger and better deals."

"Such a shame," the man replied in a false tone of sadness. "I suppose we can't interest you in sticking around for new work? You and that heap of yours still hold the record for the Kessel Run. Plenty of work to be had if you're looking for it."

"Like I said," Han replied a bit more frostily, jerking his head towards me. "I've already got work. Now, my pal and I here are still not seeing the pickup. Where is it?"

"Sure, sure," the man replied easily. "Let me call it out."

He reached for the collar of his tunic, turning it towards his mouth and speaking quietly into it. I caught him looking at me and had the unfortunate luck of making eye contact. Even beneath the hood, the man seemed to realize when we were looking at one another.

"First time to Kessel?" he asked in a friendly tone. "Don't think I've seen you around here before."

Any irritated look I would send at the man would lose its impact, given my wardrobe choice. However, I still made an irritated expression at the man as I answered.

"Yeah," I answered. "First time."

"Ain't nothing wrong with that," the man responded. "Plenty of folks come here for one reason or another. Kessel may be an ugly sight for most civilized beings but she has plenty of wealth for those who know what they're looking for."

"I can just imagine," I replied flatly.

It wasn't hard to see the game the man was playing. He was clearly fishing for information, even if I wasn't exactly sure of the reason. The name sounded familiar. I think he had been doing this for awhile or had been mentioned before in a story, likely involving Han. He must not have been very important if I was only passingly familiar with him but I wished I could have at least remembered if this guy worked for the Hutts, or the Empire, or for himself.

Before anyone could say anything else, five figures emerged from the building a short distance away. The first was a droid pushing a cart with the load of spice on it, which I quickly glossed over in favor of the others. I zeroed in on them and immediately frowned when I noted the group's composition. We'd come here for four prisoners and there were only two figures with restraints coming towards us and two guards ushering them forward.

Both had black cloth bags over their heads, likely to keep them confused and limit the chance of them trying to escape. One was smaller, just a child by their stature. That was clearly Kyp. The other was stooped and more hunched as they walked. Rather than the standard prisoner outfit, she seemed to have several extra layers draped over her form which hung from her form almost like a robe. Going by appearances, it was probably safe to assume this was the reclusive seer, Vima.

That seemed to account for half of our quarry, but where were the other two?

"What's the big idea, Arb?" Han demanded before I could. "I'm counting only two. The deal was for four. Where are the other two adults?"

Arb made an exaggerated shrug, arms held wide, before answering.

"Yeah, about that," he began. "We had a riot in the corrections facility a short while ago. Two of the names on your list got caught up in it and didn't make it out. It was before we knew they were going to be sold and could get them separated from the general population. Nothing we could do about it."

'Fuck.'

That was the only word going through my mind as I processed that answer.

I had the impulse to shout at the corrupt guard for his seeming indifference but bit my tongue. Truthfully, I already knew that Kessel was a hellhole. Prisoners died here all the time. Just about everyone I talked to about the place told me as much.

Was this supposed to happen so soon? Could I have come sooner? Did I accelerate their deaths somehow through some sort of ripple effect? Was I responsible somehow?

No, I couldn't afford to tear myself up with that idea. Not only was it a longshot at best, but this was neither the time or the place for such recriminations. I have to keep my head in the game.

"Half the number of prisoners means a cut in pay," I bit out. "We're not paying full price for a fuckup on your end."

"That's fine," Arb said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Entirely fair, even. We expected this."

There was an angrier part of me that had hoped the prick would've pushed the issue. The more rational part of me however was well aware that there was nothing else to be done about it. A fight wouldn't get us anywhere or do us any good here.

The exchange was fairly straightforward from there. We handed over half of the credits, Chewie took the spice and the two captives into the Falcon to get looked at, and Han and I backed up the ramp a few minutes after that. Arb offered some parting line about coming back anytime for further business but I was mostly ignoring the man for the sake of keeping my temper down.

I slapped the ramp control as I followed Han to the cockpit to assist in takeoff. I still couldn't get away from Kessel fast enough but now, it wasn't just the smell that gave me reason.

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

POV Shift; Arb Skynxnex

Watching the Millennium Falcon take off and head for orbit, Arb Skynxnex allowed his neutral expression to give way to a small smirk.

He turned to the guard on his right.

"Did you get it?"

The man nodded, reaching up to the side of the helmet he was wearing and detaching a cable. He plugged it in to a small holopad he removed from his belt and began the data transmission.

While it would have been easier and even a few seconds quicker to do this wirelessly, Arb had worked for the Empire long enough to know that paranoia was a necessity to survival. Any wireless transmission, no matter how quick or how encrypted, stood a chance to be intercepted. Since he didn't control/own more than a handful of other personnel in the facility, hardline transmissions were safer. He'd made sure to make that very clear to his men once they entered his service.

Transmitting the data only took a second and only a few more for the first holopic to appear. The young man in the hood appeared and cycled through several different snapshots, going through several different spectrums including thermal, x-ray, and infrared. Biometric data scrolled across the bottom of the pad as well, compiling a fairly comprehensive bio pic of the target.

"Good," Arb remarked, taking the offered pad and shutting it off. "That's everything we need."

Arb didn't know what precisely the young fool had done to get himself noticed by the Hutts but that wasn't his concern. What did concern him was the payout for this information he would receive for sending both the details of this transaction and the snapshots he'd managed to acquire.

Two payout for one job. Not a bad day at all.

He looked at the grunts he'd brought along for this job, now all just standing around him and awaiting further orders.

"You'll all get your cut once the payment comes through," he told them dismissively. "Now, get back to your posts."

The group dispersed, heading off into different sections of the facility so as to not draw any suspicion by being seen all traveling as a group, which was something else Arb had to make very clear to them once they came under his employ.

Arb sighed as he picked a random direction himself and began a casual stroll. He knew he was so far above the imbeciles the Empire sent to work on Kessel and even more so than the ones they sent to be imprisoned. While he had to do the bidding of the idiot warden of the corrections facility, Arb made his own moves and did his own work right under the idiot's nose.

For now, he had to skulk around on deserted landing pads and sell information to other parties instead of ordering others to do these things for him. It wasn't much but he knew that given enough time here, he could rise to be much more than an informant and an errand boy. Given enough time, he knew he could rise to a place where he could make the decisions, where he could run this place like he wanted to instead of how he was told to.

'One day, I'll be above all of this,' Arb thought to himself. 'One day...'

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

POV Shift; Aboard the Millennium Falcon

Our departure was mercifully quick. I stayed in the cockpit and acted as copilot for takeoff, stretching my senses outwards to catch any signs of a double cross or some kind of last second betrayal. Han didn't spare the engines and got us far enough out to make the jump to hyperspace in good time. Upon making the jump, I finally let out a breath I had been holding as I leaned back into the copilot's seat.

"I'm grateful for your help with this one, Han," I thanked sincerely. "This one meant a great deal to me, if only for obvious reasons."

"Ah, don't get all mushy on me," Han waved off. "I was happy to help. My good deed for the week."

"Weren't you the one complaining about getting me the updated lists of prisoners from Kessel?" I asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," he admitted, but in a dismissive tone. "But that was only because I hate homework. Getting updated versions of the prisoner roster was a real pain. Especially when I had to keep doing it."

"Which is why I want to say thanks," I repeated. "Seriously. I know this was asking a big favor and I want you to know I appreciated it."

I couldn't stop the mote of bitterness from entering my voice before speaking again.

"I only wish we had managed to get here sooner."

Intellectually, it is easier to dismiss such feelings. I knew it wasn't my fault but the feeling of failure wasn't so easy to get rid of. The two elder Durrons were both dead, leaving their sons to fend for themselves in this galaxy. Today, I'd managed to get Kyp because I had the means and the knowledge necessary to save him. While I knew his brother had been old enough to be hauled off to the academy on Carida, I had no idea how to get to him. Carida wasn't only the site of an Imperial academy, but was a heavily fortified stronghold which boasted a strong fleet presence and a lot of attention from the ISB (Imperial Security Bureau).

Unlike today, I didn't think I could just show up and buy a cadet.

It was startling how much having a good conscious could bother you. I liked to think of myself as someone who was trying hard to do not just the right thing, but the moral thing. Now, I think I was developing a savior complex of some sort with how much I was lamenting not being able to save the lives of people I didn't even know. I felt as though I was letting down the Durron family by not being able to do enough.

Sure, my conscious mind could remind me that the parents would've died eventually no matter what. Nobody was going to get them out but me, so if I couldn't swing it even with all the advantages I had at my disposal then it was a lost cause from the start, right?

Still... it was hard for intellect to totally override an emotion as powerful as guilt could be.

"Don't let yourself get down about it," Han reassured. "Two out of four isn't bad and you still saved the kid and the old woman. It was just bad luck the kid's parents got caught up in a prison riot."

"Yeah," I replied absentmindedly. "Just a bad run of luck..."

"Be happy for what you've got," he told me, suddenly far more serious. "You actually managed a prisoner rescue from Kessel. You know how rare that is? How long do you think the average prisoner lasts in those mines? A few years at best? How much longer do you think that old woman or worse, the kid, would have lasted down there? I don't care if they both can use the Force like you, that's still a death sentence."

"Yeah," I acknowledged. "I get that. And you're right; I need to focus on what I can do."

"Oh, well that's good," Han replied. "I'm glad you know that much already. I was worried I'd have to make up a speech to lift your spirits or something. That's more of your thing anyway."

I understood what Han was doing. He might be a scoundrel by trade and lifestyle choice, but he was not quite as discreet to someone who had spent enough time around him like I had. He was trying to make light of the subject to avoid an awkward moment and hopefully change the conversation to something more lighthearted.

I'm lucky to have such a good friend.

"I've heard you turn a phrase a time or two," I replied. "Mostly when you were trying to fast talk your way out of trouble, but the skill translates well enough."

"Nah, that's not me," he brushed off.

"Perhaps I should have you proofreading anything I write in the future?" I went on like I hadn't heard him. "At the least, I should consider taking notes. Would you want to sit in on any future deals I have to make or negotiate?"

"Now you're just making fun of me," Han groused, shooting me a look.

"I would never," I said, sounding shocked at the very idea. "But I'd bet Leia would be impressed to see you rubbing shoulders with Alliance diplomats and making yourself heard over a conference table-"

"Don't you have something else you should be doing?" he interrupted me, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

Taking the strong hint in good cheer, I let out a small laugh as I stood and strolled out of the cockpit. I did have a pair of new passengers that needed looking after and it'd be unfair of me to leave them with Chewie the whole trip back when I was the one who insisted on rescuing them in the first place.

Coincidentally, the big Wookiee was there to meet me half way to the lounge area.

"Everything good back there?" I asked him.

Chewie grunted an affirmative and told me that the two were mostly fine, if a bit quiet. He didn't think either of them understood Shyriiwook, or at least seemed to, so he just removed their restraints and got them some of the onboard rations and water while looking them over for injuries. He was happy to report that so far, both seemed fine.

"Thank you, Chewie," I told him. "You've done plenty. I'll look after them from here."

The big Wookiee chuffed his acknowledgement of my thanks but told me he was glad to help, so thanks wasn't necessary. I patted my hairy friend on one of his long arms and offered him a smile as I passed him. For such a ferocious and sometimes devious Wookiee (he was a smuggler, after all), he was also incredibly kind.

Strolling into the lounge area, I put on a smile and prepared to greet the two with my best 'game' face in order to make the best impression.

"Alright then," I said loudly, walking in to the compartment. "Time for-woah!"

The Force shouted a warning of impending danger just in time.

My eyes widened and time seemed to slow as my Force-enhanced reflexes kicked in. I twisted my body to the left, allowing the crude shiv to pass right by me as my right hand snapped out and grabbed my assailant's wrist. I squeezed the joint and twisted it as I kicked out with my other leg, sending my attacker to the ground, hard. The weapon - just a piece of jagged metal shaped for holding and stabbing - fell from its wielder's hand and clattered to the deck.

Not wanting to give my opponent an opportunity to go for it, I scrambled atop of them and pinned their arm behind their back, twisting it and using my other hand to press down on them and pin them to the deck. It was nothing too fancy, but it had the merits of being simple and effective. For someone with enhanced reaction times and was in good shape like myself, it was child's play.

Which was perhaps an irony considering my attacker. Head turned to one side to look up at me, Kyp Durron was glaring at me with an intensity I didn't think a child capable of.

Naturally, I was taken completely off guard by this.

"What that hell was that?!" I exclaimed.

"Slaver scum!" he shouted back. "I'll kill you!"

"Sla- would you calm the hell down?" I shouted back. "I'm not a slaver and this isn't a slave ship, you little lunatic! We just rescued you!"

"You mean bought me!" he yelled back.

"Rescued you," I emphasized loud and slow. "For which, by the way, you are welcome!"

Whatever he was going to say in response was cut off by the cackling tones coming from the couch. Turning my head, I looked at the only other Jedi in the room.

Vima-Da-Boda had certainly seen better days. While I knew that the years had not been kind to her, it seems her physical condition had suffered greatly for one reason or another. Old and leathery were the first words that came to mind when I saw her, though she was largely obscured by the raggedy cloak she had shrouded herself in. The hood was still pulled over her head, but I could still make out one wild and bulbous eye contrasting with a normal looking one, a crooked nose, several warts, and numerous liver spots.

"It's true!" she cried out. "It's true! Vima sees you at last!"

"Yes, hello," I said, applying a bit more pressure onto Kyp as he struggled beneath my grip. "I'm Luke Skywalker and this is a rescue. If everyone could just hold off on stabbing me for just a moment, I'd like to explain to you how and why I just saved you both from Kessel."

I looked back down at Kyp, who still scowled at me from his position on the deck.

"Sound like a plan to you, Mr. Durron?" I asked, letting sarcasm tinge my voice. "Can I get you a chair or are you fine where you are?"

"Let me up, damn you!" he seethed in response.

I took a good look at this kid. I'd seen him just fine before now, but now I really looked.

I don't think I've ever seen such an angry expression on someone so young before. His expression was a rictus of rage and frustration but that was just the surface. With the Force, I could see beneath that and perceive even more.

Make no mistake, he was no Vader with a dark presence that seemed to cast a shadow over wherever he was standing. Kyp was furious but it was... fresh, I suppose. It wasn't powered by the Force per se - his connection to it seemed like a trickle at best - but there was a definite connection to the Dark Side in there. Whether he knew it or not, Kyp had used his anger to fuel what little connection he had with the Force. I imagined it had been roiling within him moments ago when he had tried to shank me, though that was probably a given. I imagine few people ever use shivs without being fueled by anger of some kind.

'Force damn it,' I thought 'This is one angry ass kid.'

"I will," I answered him at last. "Once you calm the hell down. You're safe, alright? You're free. So can you take it easy for a minute?"

He glared at me, taking a long moment while he struggled one more time attempting to break my grip on him.

"Fine," he hissed, finally relenting.

Choosing not to risk antagonizing him further, I smoothly rose to my feet and offered my hand down to him to help him up. I wasn't surprised when he ignored the hand and stood up on his own, although I suppose I should have been glad he didn't just slap my hand away for making the offer. He quickly took a few steps back towards Vima and stood next to the couch she was sitting on, back against the bulkhead and arms crossed, a scowl directed at me.

'Well,' I thought. 'This is off to a great start.'

"Now," I said holding my hands out to my sides in a hopefully disarming fashion. "Like I was saying; I'm Luke Skywalker and I just rescued you from Kessel. I chose to buy you because storming the place would have probably meant that I would've had to fight my way through an army and risk getting you and all the other prisoners killed. Care to introduce yourselves?"

"Don't you already know our names?" Kyp fired back. "You bought us, after all."

"Vima is Vima-Da-Boda," Vima promptly supplied. "Boy is too angry to introduce himself at the moment, but will do so once he calms down."

The aforementioned boy glared at the old woman who looked neutrally at him from the corner of her bulbous eye before he turned back to me.

"Kyp," he grudgingly introduced himself.

It was something, at least.

"And it's a pleasure to meet you both," I spoke evenly. "I'm glad I was able to get you both off of Kessel. Before we go any further, do you two need anything? Food, water, perhaps medical att-"

"What did you want us for?" Kyp interrupted.

I paused in my speaking and let out a small sigh at the young man's attitude to show my annoyance with him.

"I'll explain that," I told him slowly. "But first, I wanted to make sure you were both well enough at the moment. I'll have some doctors look you over once we meet up with my ship, but I don't want to bother you both if you're starving or nursing some serious injury."

"Vima and Kyp are both well, Luke Skywalker," Vima informed me before turning to Kyp. "You must calm yourself, Kyp. This is the rescue Vima told you about. Luke Skywalker has come for us and we owe him our thanks."

Kyp seemed to take her words to heart as after looking angry for a few more seconds, he seemed to smooth out his expression and take a deep breath. I had meditated enough with Kenobi to recognize a meditation technique when I saw one, though it was a bit interesting to watch someone else and someone so young attempt it.

"If we're all going to have a chat," I spoke again after what I felt was an appropriate amount of time. "I'll just have a seat, if you don't mind."

Neither objected to my stated intentions, so I proceeded further into the lounge and seated myself at the far end of the long seat across from Vima and the still standing Kyp. This kept a polite amount of distance between us and put the holotable more or less between us. Settling myself in, I decided to begin with perhaps the most obvious question I had.

"You said you saw me?" I asked Vima. "Did you mean you had a Force Vision of me coming to rescue you?"

"Vima had visions," she smiled crookedly at me. "When she could meditate. The Force told her to be patient. 'A Jedi would come,' it said. So she waited. When the boy and his family were brought to the mines, Vima thought he was the one but he was too young, too untrained. But knew she had to try and help them too."

She dropped her smile and looked sadly down at the table between us before continuing.

"Vima tried to help but could only save young Kyp," she said. "Family is precious. Doesn't matter if they cannot use the Force; still family. Still matter. Too few of us are left. So few..."

Her voice trailed off. I saw her shoulders slump a bit as though the weight of the galaxy was pressing down on her.

"But not gone," I gently reminded her as her tone dropped. "There are still a few of us left in the galaxy. My own master, Obi-Wan Kenobi - though he goes by 'Ben' now - is one such example. And there are many others scattered and hidden throughout the galaxy. That's not even mentioning the many Force users who live in seclusion or simply manage to not draw the attention of the Empire."

"There..." Vima seemed to shake a bit. "There are... more? More Jedi?"

Ignoring the dirtiness of her hand, I reached out across the table and gently grasped it, trying to provide comfort as I felt the old woman trembling. Beneath the dirt and the callouses, I felt how small her hand was and how frail it seemed. It was as if the old woman's leathery skin was most of what was holding her together.

"Plenty more," I told her. "And many more to come in the future, I promise you."

"Kenobi, you said," Vima whispered. "Vima remembers a Kenobi. A famous Jedi. Vima saw him once, long ago. If he survives..."

I could barely hear the last of her words as Vima seemed to shrink into herself, withdrawing her hand from mine and staring at the tabletop in front of us with a suddenly blank expression. I would have worried she'd had some sort of brain seizure if I didn't detect her reaching into the Force. She had slipped into some sort of meditative trance faster than anything I'd ever seen before. I sensed she was fine but was just ignoring everything physically around herself at the moment.

Not quite sure what to do with the fact that the person I was talking to had decided to 'step out' as it were, I eventually decided that trying to speak to Kyp would probably be better than just waiting in silence.

"She do this often?" I asked him.

Shrugging his shoulders, the young man seemed to have at last settled down enough that he wasn't at least outwardly hostile towards me and his surroundings.

"Sometimes," he said. "Says she needs to see something and then goes all quiet like that. Or just does it on her own and says nothing. She tries to do it when the guards weren't looking, since they tended to hit her when she stopped working or moving."

"Ah," I frowned, understanding but choosing to gloss over the less than pleasant description for the moment. "She's probably trying to seek answers from the Force. I knew she had strong seer abilities, but I've never encountered one personally before."

"A seer?" Kyp repeated, apparently confused by the term.

I looked to the boy, realizing that despite hanging around Vima, a good portion of what was happening was still probably flying over his head. He fidgeted a bit when I looked at him but I could tell he was putting on a brave face to ask his question.

"A seer is a type of Force user," I tried to explain, keeping it simple for the boy. "It's someone who is talented in looking into the future by... I'm not sure how to explain it simply but basically, they reach out to the Force for answers. Usually, it's through visions or dreams. Sometimes, they're even accurate."

"Is that... normal?" he asked.

"Ehh," I said, making an 'iffy' gesture with my hand. "Kind of. Force users can seem a bit weird but they also see the galaxy pretty differently than other folks, so it's really a matter of perspective."

Looking at the slack expression on Vima's face, I frowned slightly.

"Although it's usually not so abrupt," I admitted. "She... must do this often, I imagine."

Which brought to mind what little I remembered about her past. I didn't have many details other than her being a descendant of the legendary Jedi Nomi Sunrider, but I knew she lost her only daughter years ago and subsequently went into hiding on Nar Shaddaa, which let her escape the Purge by pure chance. Given how she was described as looking like a hag the few times she made an appearance, I can only suppose that she hadn't been taking especially good care of herself. Whatever had led to her imprisonment on Kessel, I doubted it had done her health any additional favors.

Even Jedi aren't immune to emotional trauma and the damage it can leave.

"I guess," Kyp shrugged. "So, what's gonna happen next?"

"Well, we're on the way to my ship," I answered. "Nice big capital ship. Don't worry though, because me and my people just want to help you. We've got doctors who'll want to look you both over, better food, and we can discuss what comes next."

"Your people?" Kyp jumped in, sounding a lot more interested all of a sudden. "Are you with the rebels then? You fight the Empire?"

I was a little surprised by his sudden interest.

"Well, sure," I admitted. "I hope that's not a problem-"

"No, it's not a problem!" he exclaimed. "I want to join up!"

I was quiet for a long moment as I processed this sudden request and tried to find an appropriate way to answer.

"I'm pretty sure there's an age requirement for that sort of thing," I tried to explain. "I know you're angry at the Empire and probably want some payback-"

"So let me join!" he insisted. "I'm old enough! I'm tough enough! I want to fight!"

"Kyp, you can't be more than ten standard years," I pointed out. "And while I don't doubt that you're tough, I can't condone making you into a child soldier. This isn't the sort of life I'd want for anyone, let alone for someone so young."

He scowled back at me and I sensed another angry tirade coming.

"Look," I tried to placate the irate boy. "It's been a long day for everyone. You've got a lot to consider before you make any fast decisions. You're still young and have a whole lot of life ahead of you to live. Just give it some time and you can think over where you want to go with your life. We can talk about it later, if you'd like."

"Whatever," Kyp said, showing his age by crossing his arms and turning his head away from me rather petulantly.

I let out a quiet sigh.

'These are my people,' I thought bitterly. 'An old woman likely driven batty by her depression and an angry child who tried to stab me. Great. Awesome. New Jedi Order's looking real sharp right now.'

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

Resurgent Medical Bay, Several Hours Later

"...with both also showing signs of mild malnutrition. I have prescribed a dietary supplement plan for each patient to counteract the worst of the effects. Overall, both patients will require prolonged bedrest."

The medical droid gave me the rundown of its diagnosis and treatment plan with a deep and professional synthetic tone. It was one of those skeletal models with what looked like an oxygen mask over its face in lieu of a mouth. Personally, I thought it looked a little too spooky for anything requiring bedside manner but I couldn't deny its usefulness and reassuring manner of speech.

"What about the old woman, Vima?" I asked. "She's definitely looking the worst off of the two."

I was being polite with my phrasing; she looked like shit. Upon closer inspection of her face, neck, arms, and hands, I could see numerous liver spots, poorly healed scar tissue, and enough bad looking skin to make a dermatologist both wealthy and horrified. On any planet with at least half decent medical care, those issues should've been handled. All that, and her speech habits were making me a little worried. The less said about her just slipping into trances mid conversation, the better.

"My preliminary analysis has her stable," he (it's vocabulator sounded male at least) informed me. "Physically, at least. She has numerous minor to moderate health concerns which have gone untreated for a significant amount of time and will require more prolonged treatment and care. There is, however, no current medical condition that seems as if it would endanger her immediate health. Her mental state is another matter."

"She's always referring to herself in the third person," I noted.

"As well as several other markers for psychological instability in humans," he added. "There were several times during my patient interview where she seemed distanced from the current situation or didn't seem to fully grasp what I was asking her. While there are no tumors or brain deformities to indicate the cause of this, I believe that severe psychological trauma is the real cause."

I nodded sadly at that, since it lined up with my own (admittedly amateur) analysis of her. She'd engage with me willingly enough but her word choice and her speech habits were alarming, to say the least. She'd seemingly change topics or zone out mid conversation and seemed to have trouble retaining information when I asked or answered a question of hers. It made further conversation on the trip back awkward to say the least.

All of this was alarming but not incurable. Modern medicine could cure a lot, so long as one had access to the right specialists and facilities.

"What sort of treatment options are we looking at?" I asked next.

"I am recommending she be transferred to a facility better able to handle her case," the doc said, tapping something on a datapad and handing it to me. "We currently do not have the equipment or specialists here able to render effective treatment."

I sighed, nodding. I had accepted the possibility of having to do so before we'd rescued her, so it wasn't hard to hear about doing it now.

"I'll be the one to talk to her about it," I said. "It'll be better coming from me than someone else. She might listen to me and be more willing to go along with it."

"As you wish, sir," the med droid replied.

"And the boy?" I asked. "How's he?"

"The young male's condition is far less serious," was the response. "He has clearly endured recent hardship, given his physical condition, but rest and proper care should lead to a speedy recovery. I am to understand the boy lost both parents recently?"

"He did," I confirmed.

"Then I will also recommend having him transferred to a more appropriate facility," came the immediate response. "We are also not well equipped for long term adolescent care and appropriate counseling. Long term impact from such a trauma may lead to serious behavioral issues if left unaddressed."

'Yeah,' I thought. 'As if that's not precisely what I'm worried about. And leaving an angry Force sensitive child unattended isn't exactly an appealing option either.'

It would be fair to say this was what was currently gnawing at me and had been ever since our little meeting after leaving Kessel. Without his parents to help look after Kyp and keep him grounded, I was genuinely concerned that he might learn to give in to his anger and draw upon the Dark Side without someone there to monitor him and deter him from that temptation.

'I've fought stormtroopers and pirates with ease,' I thought. 'I felt barely any trepidation since I first began and practically none once I had begun to accumulate experience in doing so. Why is it I feel so uneasy over this?'

"Thank you," I said aloud. "I'll speak with them both myself now."

The med droid excused itself and I took a moment to sigh and run a hand over my tired eyes. I needed a minute to collect myself before speaking with the two of them, especially if they reacted badly to the news I was about to deliver.

I ended up taking several minutes before walking over to them.

Vima was staring off into the corner, but her head turned to look at me as I came closer. I noticed she still had that raggedy brown cloak on, despite the fact that I knew the med droids would've tried to get her into something clean. Perhaps it held some sort of sentimental value to her?

Kyp had apparently taken advantage of the offer, since he was wearing what amounted to simple cloth pants and a tunic which looked like they'd been pulled from a closet somewhere here in the medbay. Their blue coloring reminded me of the type of uniforms hospital workers would wear.

Oddly enough, I was sensing... something from him. I didn't really consider myself an expert at sensing the Force - not compared to Kenobi at least - but I could still feel him trying to draw on it while he sat up on the bed, arms flat by his side and eyes closed. He likely sensed my approach since a moment later, his eyes snapped open before his head turned and he was glaring at me.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

Earlier, I might have given a sarcastic response to that question. It was sort of my default when confronted by anger these days. But I realized now that that wasn't the best approach here. Let it not be said I didn't know when to back off, or at least curb my smart mouth.

"Just checking on you," I answered neutrally. "Feeling any better?"

"I'm fine," he answered gruffly, or as gruffly as an eight year old could.

I walked closer to the bed he was lying on and watched carefully as he tensed up.

"Hey," I said, holding my hands up. "I'm just making sure you're alright. You feeling any aches or persistent pains? The med droids are good but they don't always catch everything."

"I said I'm fi-," he tried again.

"Kyp is trying to heal himself," Vima interjected at the same time. "He is doing exercise Vima taught him to stay strong. Needs more practice."

Ah, I'd thought as much. In the original story, Kyp had told Han that Vima had taught him enough to help him sustain himself while working in the mines. It was probably one of the only ways a young boy could survive years of hard labor in a place as harsh as Kessel.

"So I see," I murmured looking interested. "Mind if I give you a hand? I'm actually familiar with the technique and its uses."

"I don't need your help!" Kyp insisted, glaring at me again. "I'm fine!"

'Was I ever this stubborn as a kid?' I thought, holding in a sigh.

"Tell you what, Kyp," I said, pulling something from my belt. "How about I hand this back to you and you hold onto it while I take a look? Who knows; maybe you'll learn a bit? Worse case scenario, you'll get another chance at shanking me if I screw up somehow."

I finished by offering back the jagged little piece of metal Kyp had tried to attack me with on the Falcon.

I was totally improvising this plan but I was hopeful that it would be viewed as an act of trust. Kyp was undoubtedly hostile towards me and that was the last thing I wanted. A nice big gesture like this would be helpful in building a rapport as well as introduce Kyp to my own competency in Force related matters.

Kyp stared at the improvised weapon I'd previously taken from him, his expression changing from disbelief to skepticism as he seemed to ponder if this was some kind of trick. Coming to a decision, he raised his arm up and reached over to retrieve his former weapon. He darted his hand back after claiming it from me, as if fearful I was playing some kind of trick on him and would snatch it away again at the last second. Choosing not to be put off by this, I decided to offer some casual advice.

"It's a pretty straight blade," I pointed out to him. "The sharper parts are all at the tip. Earlier, you made a slashing motion. It's better to stab with it if you have to use it. You're more likely to cause meaningful damage to your enemy that way.

This simple advice seemed to confuse the poor boy. Probably because he was trying to figure out why someone he'd attacked was trying to give him advice on how to attack better. Honestly, I preferred confusion to outright anger.

"Glad we could come to an accord! Now," I said, clapping my hands together and rubbing them in a rather theatrical fashion. "Let's see what we can see."

Despite the theatrics, what I was doing probably looked pretty boring to an outside observer. All I had done was place a hand on Kyp's shoulder and just stop talking.

But beyond mere sight, it was a different story.

This was something Kenobi had taught me early on and actually shined a light on a few mysteries about how the Jedi had trained their own. The idea was to format the Force though oneself and use it to supplement the body's natural healing processes. At even a lower level of implementation, it helped do things like reduce deposits of lactic acid in the muscles and joints, super ventilate the user's breathing process, and accelerate cellular regeneration. It could even numb the pain from injuries. Overall, it allowed rapid recovery from physical aches and pains and kept the body closer to a state of peak health. From the description Kenobi provided and mixed with a little of my own knowledge, I classified it as sort of Low Tier Force Heal. Kenobi just called it a healing trance.

Kyp seemed to be pretty efficient at it. He must've only learned recently as there were still a number of gaps in his technique, but he seemed to at least have a good idea of what he was doing. It might be because he was naturally talented or had a good explanation from Vima for how to do it, but I was more or less just touching up the work he'd already done.

"Not bad at all," I complimented him. "How long have you been practicing?"

Kyp seemed really distracted, as he didn't seem to respond to my question.

After only a few minutes of this, I stopped and removed my hand from his shoulder. Kyp seemed to snap out of the small trance he'd fallen into and snapped his head up to look at me with wide eyes.

"You..." he gulped. "You're like me."

"I think of it as you're like me," I winked. "Well, like us."

I nodded over to Vima... who was smiling while staring at the bulkhead behind me. I frowned for a moment at her apparent spacing out before turning back to Kyp.

"Feel any better?" I asked.

"It's... better," he admitted, flexing his fingers and examining them as he did so. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I told him politely. "You're pretty good at it already yourself."

"...I've had practice," he replied quietly, averting his eyes even more.

Sensing the shift in mood, I decided a change in topic was necessary.

"Now that the gentlemen have had an opportunity to freshen up," I said. "Perhaps the lady would like to have herself looked over? Perhaps indulge herself in a change of wardrobe?"

"Vima is healthy," she stated simply. "And her robe is fine. A Jedi wears a robe."

"Mind if I make sure?" I asked. "As Kyp learned something by watching me, perhaps I could learn something by watching you?"

Vima hummed thoughtfully for a moment like she was seriously considering it. Her expression brightened and she smiled at me crookedly.

"Vima loves to teach," she happily informed us. "She'd be happy to show you what she can!"

"Great," I said, smiling back.

Internally however, I was worried about what I'd see. I had no doubt that Vima had managed to keep herself in working condition for all these years, though I had to wonder what Vima considered 'healthy' given her apparent physical state.

This would be a valuable learning experience for me in examining long term health issues and mental trauma. Not to mention, I was hopeful that maybe I could achieve something with my own not-insignificant Force powers. Even if I hadn't had much practice with this area of skill, I might be able to achieve something by simply trying.

Feeling optimistic and mentally reviewing my mental notes on healing with the Force, I walked over to Vima's bed and reached for her the same way I had with Kyp.

I'd barely placed my hand on the old woman's shoulder when her hand snapped up, grasping mine with surprising speed and strength!

I hadn't sensed any sort of attack or threat coming from her, so the motion shocked me as I instinctively grabbed back. I was about to ask the old woman what the hell she was doing when she turned her head and her gaze met mine.

The sensation I felt next was... strange. It still wasn't an attack but I had never felt anything quite like it before. Vima was doing something with the Force and I had no idea what it was. The feeling was accompanied by a small spike of adrenaline and something that felt almost like a wave of vertigo sweeping through me.

Almost as quickly as I was hit with it, the feeling passed. Vima's hand went slack and fell into her lap, but her eyes didn't move at all as she kept staring at me. Or as it felt, into me.

"Vima?" I asked. "What was- Vima, are you alright?"

She didn't answer me. Instead, she finally looked away and stared down into her lap, both hands placed calmly there and not indicating any sort of distress on her part.

"Medic!" I called the nearest med droid over.

Another of the medic droids, much like the one I had spoken to earlier, came over quickly and began adjusting various controls around Vima's bed. Vima kept that vacant look on her face as the medical droid attempted to communicate with her as it took it's readings with the various attached sensors.

Kyp, fully aware of the distress his friend was in from one bed over, swung his legs off the side and stood up to stand beside me as we both watched.

"Is she alright?" he asked. "What happened?"

"Doc?" I asked. "What's happening?"

"Unknown," was the monotone reply. "The patient's vitals are stable. Brainwaves are present and seem consistent with higher than normal states of activity, vitals are stable, but the patient is behaving as if comatose. I can find no apparent cause for this behavior."

I had a decent idea of what this was, but I didn't think the droid was programmed to treat 'experiencing a vision' with any degree of certainty. There weren't exactly published medical journals for this sort of thing. I should know; I checked. Even in a galaxy with such an incredible variety of lifeforms and cultures, nobody took 'visions' very seriously except in cases of possible mental impairment.

"That was... what was that?" Kyp asked, sounding uncertain. "That... felt different than when she went into a trance before. I could feel it. What was that?"

I wish I knew.

I remembered seeing her slip into a trance before, but... that wasn't like on the Falcon. I recalled touching Vima's hand and not getting a reaction anything close to that. This time, I could feel something. Was something different? I hadn't even finished reaching out to her with the Force this time when she reacted like I had sent an electric shock into her.

"If it's anything like before, I'm sure she'll pull herself out of it soon," I assured him aloud. "Doc, she should snap out of it in time. In the meantime, can you simply do what you can to make her comfortable? Once she awakens, please notify me immediately. I still need to talk to her."

"Yes, Commander," the droid replied as another approached with what I recognized as an IV bad to keep Vima hydrated while she was in this state. "You will be notified once she becomes aware again."

Nodding to the droid, I turned to Kyp who was still looking unsure at what just happened.

"Perhaps you and I can talk elsewhere while the docs look after Vima?" I suggested.

Kyp seemed uncertain at my words. He looked between me and the still passive form of Vima being looked over by the medical droid, appearing torn.

"The docs here will take good care of her," I assured him. "But I think you and I need to talk things over and we should give Vima some space while we do so. The medical bay isn't a good place for this kind of private discussion."

That seemed to do it as Kyp nodded at last. I gestured for him to follow me as we walked out of the compartment together. Silently, I noted that the shiv I had handed back to Kyp was nowhere in sight. He must have stashed it somewhere on his person when I was distracted by Vima.

Something I'd definitely need to keep in mind if I accidentally upset him during our talks. Not only would I like to avoid being stabbed, but I'm sure I'd never hear the end of it if any of my friends heard about it.

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

The Resurgent; Commander's Cabin

My own quarters were as good a place as any for a private conversation. The modest living space wasn't anything special but it was at least comfortable. Since moving in, the cabin had undergone a slow transformation. After being stripped of the gaudy wall hangings and weird art, I'd elected to keep the place simple and comfortable. Despite that, I found that I was still getting a few things to decorate it with.

An old artistic rendering of a Venator in flight had been put into a simple frame and hung on the wall. Squadron patches were pinned to a red velvet background and hung inside of a case beside it. My old toolkit was stowed beneath the small coffee table where I kept it for the sake of convenience. The arm of the couch featured a hand stitched blanket Aunt Beru had made for me, folded neatly.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Kyp's eyes weren't drawn to any of these items. His attention was instead drawn to the desk right next to the door which featured my latest decoration.

Noticing him looking at the object, I gave a small smile before deciding to go ahead and give him permission to take a closer look.

"You're welcome to hold it if you'd like."

He didn't respond verbally, but did pick up the small case to get a better look at what was inside; a thick gold star over a blue circle background. Attached was a metallic blue ribbon with a darker stripe running down the center. A silver circular tab was depicted on both the center of the star and the ribbon, denoting additional honors. Small print at the bottom stated what award it was:

The Star of Alderaan.

It had been awarded to all Alliance members who'd participated in the rescue and recovery mission we'd taken part in, officially being labelled the Alderaan Rescue and Recovery Operation. Rather unimaginative but at least it didn't leave much room for ambiguity. Afterwards, there'd been a nice little ceremony where Leia showed up and spoken a few words before handing out medals to myself, the officers, and the pilots with the additional silver decoration for our roles being greater than that of other crews. A few of our crew were also from Alderaan and had been the ones to hand out the standard medals to the rest of the crew.

It had been a rather solemn affair but that was in keeping with the nature of the operation. We hadn't just showed up and kicked ass; we'd sifted through the ruins of an entire world to rescue the scraps. While I'm sure there were some Alderaanians who wished to express their gratitude in some grand gesture, most of them only had their service and their heartfelt gratitude to offer.

So far as I'm concerned, that's plenty.

"Cool, right?" I asked. "Got that from a real princess."

"Really?"

"Yup," I confirmed. "'For service to her people and her world.' Only Alderaanians can give them out and I'm the only one who got one from their princess. I even saved her life the first time we met."

"Woah, really?" Kyp asked, looking impressed.

"Yup," I nodded, a proud look on my face. "Maybe I'll even introduce you someday. She'll probably insist that she saved herself in her version of the story, but I was the real hero the whole time. She'd have been totally lost without me."

I might pay for that comment later, but Leia was steadily getting used to my jokes. Sibling Privilege and all that.

I watched as Kyp set down the Star of Alderaan and looked over to the one beside it which held the Death Star Medal, characterized by a heavy golden circle with a deeper gold colored sash that had originally been used to hang it around my neck on Yavin IV.

"What's this one for?" he asked.

"A story for another time," I deflected. "It'd take awhile to tell anyway. Right now, we have other things to discuss."

I walked past the boy and took a seat in one of the two armchairs in sitting area. I gestured to the other seats, signaling for him to take one.

Kyp abandoned his examination of my desk with some reluctance and came over to sit on the couch across from me, keeping the table between us. I briefly wondered if that was a deliberate choice on his part before focusing on the matter at hand.

"We need to discuss what's going to happen next," I informed him. "Specifically, where you're going to go from here."

Kyp looked both sad and frustrated by my mentioning of this topic, but it was a conversation that needed to be had. But he lifted his head and looked me dead in the eye as he said his next words.

"Send me wherever you want," he said. "Just so long as I can join the Alliance."

I held in a sigh at the boy's words as I formulated my response.

"Kyp," I began. "Why do you want to join the Alliance?"

My question seemed to confuse and frustrate him.

"Why do I-" Kyp repeated. "Isn't it obvious? To fight the Empire! Because of what they did!"

"I know what they did, Kyp," I told him. "It was a horrible thing that happened to you and-"

"It wasn't just me!" he shouted, jumping to his feet to yell back at me.

His face was twisted into a model of anger and sadness as it seemed my words had set him off and now he needed to let out all that he'd been keeping bottled up.

"It wasn't!" he repeated. "Mom and Dad, Zeth too! They took him away and separated us! Mom and Dad died thinking they'd never see him again and it's all their fault!"

Kyp's brother. Zeth had been old enough to be forcefully drafted into the Imperial Military and sent off to Caridia. In a future that will never be, Kyp would have attempted to use threat and force to rescue his brother, only to fail and watch him die. Eventually, he would have come to peace with his loss. Now, that wound was still fresh in Kyp's mind and was helping to drive his anger and resentment.

But that wasn't all.

"They put us in chains and sent us into those mines!" Kyp didn't seem able to stop talking now. "They would hit us and shock us with those sticks when we didn't do what they wanted or tried to talk. They hurt us, so I'm gonna hurt them now!"

I was quiet as simply looked at Kyp after his outburst. Internally, I was pondering how I wanted to approach the situation.

A Jedi may have begun a lecture on how it's wrong to feel anger. Maybe a Jedi would've also thrown in a line about how their dead loved ones are 'one with the living Force' or some such and not to feel sad about it. But those were the words and advice of someone who didn't live with their emotions like most people did. To someone who knows what it's like to live outside of the old Order's teachings, pretending those emotions don't or shouldn't exist was unhealthy as hell. A more... realistic approach would be good here.

"Revenge is a dangerous path to walk, Kyp," I told him seriously. "Especially against something as big as the Empire. What would even satisfy you? Who and how many would have to pay before you were satisfied? How would you even know where to start? I'm not going to tell you that killing is always wrong; I have no right to say that and I'd be a hypocrite if I did. But simply killing everyone isn't a workable solution.

"There is no excuse for what they did to you," I hastened to clarify when it looked like he was about to have another outburst. "You'll never hear me say otherwise. But the Alliance is determined to change things so that what happened to you and your family doesn't happen to anyone else. As it is, you're lucky that your Force talents have gone undiscovered by the Empire thus far or I may never have been able to save you and Vima.

"Without training, without someone to teach you, you are placing yourself in an incredible degree of danger if you get the Empire to take notice. Now maybe, in a few years-"

"You can train me!" he interrupted.

"What?" I replied, surprised.

"You can use the Force!" he explained excitedly. "So can I! I could see how strong you were before when you touched me! Even Vima said I was powerful when she was teaching me! If you can show me more, then I can get strong too!"

"Kyp, that's not-" I tried, then took a breath to steady myself. "It's not so simple. I wish it was, really, but it isn't. It's true you're powerful, but power alone is nothing without the right lessons. I have my own obligations to not just the Alliance, but to the crew of this ship I am responsible for. I don't think I'd be able to give you my full attention. Not to mention the fact that I'm still technically a student myself and have significant gaps in my own knowledge. I would be a terrible teacher for you."

"You still would be better than anyone I know!" Kyp insisted. "I need to learn this stuff eventually. Why not now?"

Damn, this kid isn't making this easy for me.

"The fact of the matter is that you're still very young," I replied. "I respect your desire to get stronger, but you're asking me to put you into an extremely dangerous position. You-"

"I can handle the danger!" he insisted. "I survived Kessel, I can handle anything!"

"Do you know why you haven't seen any other Jedi than Vima and I?" I asked him, cutting him off. "Most people never even meet one Jedi in their lifetime and you've met two now. It's because we're an endangered species. The Empire actively hunted down and killed the Jedi wherever they could. And they were the luckier ones. The not so fortunate were captured and either were tortured to death or were convinced to serve the Empire, which I promise you is a much slower, more torturous form of death for most of them."

Kyp seemed speechless as he took in my words and the sharp tone I conveyed them in. Perhaps I should've felt bad at speaking so bluntly and harshly to a child, but I was done trying to get through to him with softer words. If Kyp wanted to he hard headed, then I'd just have to speak to him in a way that would get through the attitude he put up.

"I've already got a target on my back," I informed him. "The Empire knows I'm a Jedi. If the wrong people learned that you were learning from me, that you were even talking to me, then your life would be in danger by association. Not to mention that the ship you're currently on frequently engages in combat operations against the Imperial Navy. We are actively being searched for by Star Destroyers all of the time. Is that the kind of risk you want to take?

"I'm sorry, Kyp. The answer is no."

My words seemed to hit him hard as his stubbornness seemed to fade and head dropped down to look at the deck. When next he spoke, it was with none of his former fire and anger. It was the voice of someone lost and in despair.

"I..." Kyp seemed so much less sure of himself now. "I don't... I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

He looked so lost, sitting there with his head down and with tears welling up in his eyes, what I did next was more instinct than conscious thought.

I quickly rose from my seat and stepped around the table to where Kyp was. I put my arms around the boy and wrapped him in a hug. As much as I wanted to help him, as much as I wanted to do right by him, I didn't think I could give him what he wanted. What I could do in this moment was give him this small degree of comfort as the small boy wept loud and long against me.

I still felt like a shitty person.

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

Later that evening...

Kyp had been asleep for over half an hour before I felt comfortable leaving him alone. I didn't mind him crashing on my couch for the night if it meant the young boy could get some decent sleep.

I sat atop my own bed, legs folded beneath me as I thought deeply about what I was going to do. I had no hope of meditation or of any sort of physical activity distracting me tonight and simply sat up, awake, and deep in thought.

I found myself at something of moral crossroad. On the one hand, the Jedi Order taking young and impressionable children, indoctrinating them into their belief system, and using them to fufill tasks was one of the things I disapproved of rather heavily. I could understand raising a Force sensitive child around others of their kind, but it reeked all too strongly of cult behavior for me to feel totally comfortable with it. I'd given the matter serious thought - even discussing it with Kenobi on occasion - and had decided that barring extreme circumstances, I would not be allowing children to be formally trained. At least not without the consent of their parents or guardians.

And especially not if there was the strong likelihood of them being in mortal danger. Like now, when I was actively participating in military operations and battles against a powerful enemy.

I could make every excuse imaginable for how I would be different, how I would do right by them, and how it wasn't the same as indoctrinating or making some helpless child into a child soldier... but in the end that is all they'd be; excuses.

And yet...

Kyp had no one who could look after him now. His parents were dead, sending him back to his homeworld would bring about just as much danger once his identity was discovered, and even Vima wasn't in any state to look after him properly. What was left for him? An orphanage? Foster care somewhere?

My mind assailed me with every story I'd ever heard about how bad those kinds of places can be and all the ways they fall short of expectations. True, there were also many successes but was that really any better? Would I be fine with flipping a coin to decide the fate of this young boy, even if it allowed me to absolve myself of any associated guilt?

Would this even be up for debate if it didn't involve a Force sensitive? I'd have him dropped at the nearest orphanage or refugee center otherwise with nary a thought on the matter.

'Except,' my traitorous consciousness mused. 'He is a Force sensitive. That changes things. Pretending otherwise doesn't help at all.'

If left on his own, angry and with such a big chip on his shoulder, what sort of person could he become? He'd already shown me a tendency towards using violence to solve his problems and anger to direct his thoughts.

Recalling all of my interactions with him, I saw in my mind the flashes of who this boy may become. I could see the teenage boy, calmed but no less enraged by the hand dealt to him by life. Han would have potentially discovered the kid nearly a decade from now still toiling away in the mines under Kessel. His rage may have been buried under the need to survive and the weight of time but it was no less hot. I saw the same young man loosening his hold on those emotions and what he had been capable of.

People, ships, worlds, all were consumed by his rage. True, it was his acquisition of the Sun Crusher device (something I fervently couldn't wait to get my hands on and ensure never saw the light of day) and the manipulations of that long-dead bag of wind, Exar Kun, that led to it happening but it wasn't like the old Sith had started from scratch. He'd merely built on what was already there.

Seeing, feeling this anger the boy was holding onto, I couldn't help but see all that he may become. The trepidation, fear, hope, and sorrow bubbled in my gut as I considered him. Could I really leave this boy unsupervised? Didn't I have some responsibility in this situation to ensure I steered him away from those dangers as best I knew how? I wasn't exactly in a good position to look after a kid, let alone take my first student.

I was feeling so conflicted. I felt like whatever I did, I would be making a mistake or compromising some moral or other. It was times like this that I wished I still had Kenobi near and at hand for his opinion, if only to have someone to bounce ideas off of and discuss things with. Unfortunately, he was not so easy to reach right now and I didn't think I'd get a live conversation if I tried. However, I was fortunate to have another option at the moment.

'When in doubt,' I mused. 'There's usually... another source of wisdom I can appeal to.'

I just hoped she was awake.

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

The Resurgent Medical Bay...

I was only momentarily surprised to find that Vima was awake and seemingly waiting for me. Given her behavior thus far, it shouldn't be surprising at all if she had 'seen' me coming. That, or she may have simply been awake and wasn't outwardly surprised at my appearance at this late hour.

She turned to look at me as I approached and waved to the chair beside her bed. That seemed to lend credence to the idea that she had expected this conversation. She still wore her ratty brown robe, but her hood was pulled down now. Grey hair still covered large portions of her head but those seemed to only serve to highlight the missing clumps which revealed the wrinkled and cracked skin of her scalp.

"You're awake now, I see," I remarked.

"Yes," she replied simply.

I frowned at the serene tone she used while pulling up a chair beside her bed to sit and talk.

"Are you... well?" I asked tentatively.

"Vima is fine," she stated. "Just thinking. Dreaming."

"Really?" I asked, realizing I was getting sidetracked but not wanting to ignore whatever this was. "Thinking and dreaming about what, if I may ask?"

The old woman hummed and looked at me. Vima was no child ignorant of her own abilities or some untrained adept; she was a former Jedi Knight. Years of neglecting herself or not, I could sense no hint of her emotions as she looked at me. Going by facial expressions alone was of limited use, but she at least looked calm as she regarded me.

"You are special too," she finally spoke. "You hold the fates of many in your hands. You are tied to a great many things and hold vast potential for change, whether it be good or bad. Did you know this?"

"I am... aware," I replied. "Is that what you saw? Me?"

"Not just you," she shook her head. "Vima followed a string. She found a future you are tied to."

"Good or bad?"

"...Beautiful," she breathed the word. "Vima never- I did not think such a future would be possible. Getting... lost in such a vision is easier when it is so desirable."

I was surprised by her sudden change in words. She actually managed to catch and stop herself from referring to herself in the third person. For what little I knew of Vima and based on my interactions with her thus far, I didn't think she was aware enough to catch herself from doing that. She even seemed to realize she was slipping into that trance like state.

Just what had she seen to have this kind of effect on her?

"But you did not come here to discuss futures," she said.

"No," I agreed.

I wasn't against receiving helpful information about the future. After all, how could I be? But I was averse to believing in them too much. Long familiarity with such things in stories and legends showed me the dangers of investing too much in visions and prophecies. I was tempted enough to listen, but too skeptical to believe.

And besides, I had something far more pressing weighing on my mind right now...

"I understand," she nodded. "Then was there something else you wished to ask Vima?"

"There was," I said aloud, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. "It's about Kyp."

"Ah," she sighed. "The boy is strong, yes? Very strong in the Force."

"He is," I agreed. "Is that why you taught him?"

"For his strength? Perhaps," she replied. "He has a destiny. He is strong already, but Vima wanted to make him as ready for it as she could. Destiny can be cruel. Would not wish such a thing on a youngling, but the Force does not always allow for such."

"Did you use your seer abilities when you saw him?" I asked, getting to the heart of what was bothering me.

"Yes," she answered simply.

A pause.

"What did you see?" I asked, a bit impatient after it became clear that one word was all she had to say.

"He is important," was her response, spoken as though it were obvious. "His power is the sign of a great destiny."

"But a destiny of what kind?" I asked. "Destruction or salvation? Light or Dark?"

Vima tilted her head at me, considering.

"You are uncertain," she stated. There was no doubt in her voice. "Why?"

"I... made a promise when I started down on this path," I began to explain. "It was years ago. It was so simple, I never thought too much about it but it's been haunting me for hours now as I'm wondering what I should do. It wasn't anything big or elaborate. I simply promised myself to 'do better.'"

I hadn't meant to turn my answer into a confession like that, but I did it anyway. Once I started speaking, it had been easier to keep going than to shut up.

"It seems like a simple thing, right?" I asked rhetorically. "But what does it mean, exactly? I know so much about those who came before me. Their successes and their failures. It was easy to criticize when I was removed from the situation myself, but now I find myself torn when faced with such a decision.

"Kyp has no one to look after him," I spoke plainly. "If left to his own devices, alone and angry, he could become something dark that would place the lives of many others in jeopardy. In other words, a threat. But does a 'maybe' justify the alternative? Keeping a child aboard this warship and putting him in danger? Training him as though he were a soldier under my command? What kind of hypocrite does that make me when I condemn those same actions from others, but it's okay when I do it?"

Vima simply nodded. I was grateful to see there was no judgement on her face; only understanding. Even if she technically wasn't 'all there,' she was perhaps the only person immediately available who I felt I could talk to about this.

"You have already said the most important thing," she told me.

I looked at her curiously and prompted her to go on with a gesture.

"He has no one," she stated simply. "If not you and not another, who will he look to? The boy has no other guidance and there are few enough who could give him that."

"So you think I should teach him?" I asked. "Technically, I'm not even finished with my own training. I'm as much a student as he would be, if only further along in my studies. Even by Jedi traditions - which if I haven't made clear, I don't entirely agree with - it would be improper and maybe even dangerous for me to take on a student."

"Traditions change," Vima shrugged. "A Jedi must consider the future beyond themselves. They must consider what they leave behind when their time comes to rejoin the Force."

"It's not like I never planned on taking a student," I said, running a hand through my hair. "Kyp might have even been my first pick. But that would have been later, when we were both older and more prepared for such a role. I would have hoped to take him on in a safer galaxy than the one we have now. One that at least had fewer dangers for him and I. He's already so angry with the galaxy and the hand he's been dealt. How easy will it be for that young boy to learn to like being angry over anything else?

"How do you know when you're making the right choice by offering training to someone who may abuse that power later?"

Vima was quiet once I'd finished talking. The silence stretched on for nearly a minute and I was worried I'd lost her focus on the here and now when she finally spoke.

"We can never be sure of how a student will turn out," she answered, her words slow and measured. "Vima has learned that we all have our decisions to make. A student may stumble or fall, but a master's duty is to train them in the best way they can. What matters is teaching them to be good people."

Sadness flickered behind Vima's eyes as she paused.

"Within us all, two beasts battle for dominance. One is Good, the other is Evil. Whomever wins is not based on outside circumstances or destiny. It depends on which beast is fed more. You can teach Kyp right from wrong. How to move past his anger and live."

I pondered the meaning in those words for a few long moments before speaking again.

"...Are you speaking from experience?" I asked quietly.

A strong... something passed over Vima's face at my question. It's presence was so brief, I honestly couldn't do more than guess at what it was.

"...Yes," she answered softly.

We were both quiet for a minute after her answer. Again, I was the one to speak first.

"I notice," I said. "That you aren't including yourself in the lesson plan."

Vima smiled sadly back at me.

"Vima knows she is not well," she spoke softly. "She has known... for some time. The medical staff talked where Vima could hear. They want to send her to a special facility to speak to doctors and mind healers."

"I was unsure how to broach the subject with you myself," I offered. "I wanted to try and discuss the matter with you one-on-one, but-"

Vima held up a hand to forestall any more of my explanation.

"Vima understands," she told me. "She saw enough in visions to know what's best for her. And now, she knows that she has a future to look forward to. Something to live for. The Jedi are returning and Vima wants to be there to see it."

"It may be difficult," I cautioned her. "Not just reaching that future, but your own healing too. But I can promise you that I will not forget you. The Alliance has the resources to help you, if only because they will have great respect for you as a Jedi."

"Vima is not a Jedi," she informed me quietly. "She hasn't been for some time. She turned her back on the Order, the Force, and even the galaxy. But maybe... in time... she could be one again."

"For what it's worth," I spoke, offering her my hand. "You are one of the finest Jedi I've ever had the pleasure to meet. Thank you for speaking with me."

She reached out with her own hand and I grasped it and gave it a firm shake.

"You are welcome," she replied, smiling crookedly at me. "Did Vima really help you?"

"You did," I assured her. "You've helped me see what I should do."

"Then Vima-" she stopped abruptly. "Then I am glad."

I smiled at the old woman and rose from my chair.

"Go ahead and get some rest," I told her. "Kyp and I will be by in the morning."

She nodded up at me, settling back onto her bed and closing her eyes. I walked away from her and proceeded to return to my quarters for the evening, but not before I heard her speak one more time to me.

"Good night, Luke Skywalker."

It didn't hit me until I was halfway back to my quarters, but that was perhaps the first conversation I'd ever had with the real Vima-Da-Boda.

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

Later that morning...

Morning had come quickly after that and had started surprisingly mundane. I accepted the morning reports from the crew that had been working through the night shift, brought Kyp to the mess hall where we'd picked up three trays including the one for Vima, and had shared a quiet meal around the older woman's bed. She was pretty quiet and only seemed to speak when addressed directly, but seemed to be in good spirits overall. She made no mention of the conversation we'd had the night before.

It was as good a time as any to have this conversation.

"A transport has been arranged and will be leaving shortly," I informed them both. "It'll be headed to Chandrila. There's an organization there well practiced in taking care of folks with nowhere to go. Top of the line medical facilities, the whole deal. I've already made all of the arrangements."

Kyp's spirit seemed to dampen at my words while Vima simply continued eating her food. It was only because I was watching her too that I caught the sideways glance she gave me.

"But there might be only one passenger, I think," I hinted, looking at Kyp.

He looked curiously at me in response.

"Do you really want to stay here, Kyp?" I asked him.

He immediately looked excited and sat up straighter.

"Y-yes!" he answered, dropping his utensils onto his tray.

"Then tell me again what you want," I told him.

"What?" he seemed confused.

"You wanted to join the Alliance," I reminded him. "Why? Tell me what you really want."

"To... to fight the Empire?" he sounded hesitant as he answered, making it sound like a question more than an answer.

"And?" I prompted.

"I want... to get strong," he spoke slowly.

"Go on," I encouraged him.

"I want to be so strong that... that nobody'll push me around ever again," he declared more firmly. "I want to able to fight against people who will hurt me and the people I care about. I... I want to rescue my brother! I want to save him and... and everyone else the Empire has taken! I want to make it all right again!"

By the time he'd finished speaking, his voice had risen to the level of nearly being a shout. As if realizing this himself, Kyp ducked his head down, staring at the deck and blushing hard in embarrassment.

That was more than I had expected but it was plenty enough for me.

"You're still too young," I stated firmly. "You won't be going anywhere under Alliance orders, I want to make that very clear. I'll be teaching you myself."

The boy's head shot up and he stared at me, mouth open in surprise.

"I'm going to compromise on something I promised myself by doing this," I continued. "But I will begin teaching you how to use the Force. More than that, I'll teach you how to live while being a Force user. Before any of this, we're going to lay out some rules, understand?"

He nodded quickly. Kyp's face lit up as he was about to say something, perhaps cheer or thank me, but I cut him off by holding up a finger in front of his face.

"Rule Number One; You do as you are told. When I speak, you listen. When I tell you to do something, you have to trust that I am doing so for not just your benefit or even my own, but potentially those around us."

I held up a second finger.

"Rule Number Two; You will tell no one what I am teaching you of the Force. You will not share a single detail or demonstrate a single ability to anyone other than a select few who I will introduce you to. This is for your protection above all else. If certain individuals learn that you have even the most minor training from me, they would stop at nothing to either kill you or capture you, which I can assure you will likely lead to a fate worse than death."

I held up a third finger.

"Rule Number Three; You will train only when and how I say. If you attempt something on your own without supervision or guidance, you may inadvertently hurt yourself or others with a careless mistake. To add to that; not every lesson I give you will make sense or seem important. All of it is important. Even the non-Force stuff I'll teach you will matter a great deal, even if you can't see it at the time."

"Are there going to be a lot of these?" Kyp suddenly whined, looking a bit overwhelmed by the intensity I was throwing at him.

"Just those three for now," I said, smiling. "I've got plenty of fingers, I'll add more later as needed. For now, let's finish eating and see about getting you set up with somewhere to sleep."

"Okay!" he acknowledged, digging back into his food with renewed speed.

Vima and I both caught each other smiling at the young boy's enthusiasm. I thought about the things I'd get to teach him and felt excitement myself at the idea of sharing what I knew helping shape Kyp as a Jedi. Is this what being a teacher is like? I can see why some people made careers out of it.

'When did I become such an old soul?'

It was only a minute later that my student asked me his first question.

"So..." he trailed off. "When do I get a laser sword? Jedi get laser swords, right?"

I sighed.

'What the hells did I just sign myself up for?'

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

POV Shift: Vima-Da-Boda

Alliance Transport: Hours Later

It was quiet in the compartment. The pilots and the medic were all chatting in the cockpit, paying no mind to their passenger. So far as they knew, she was just one more refugee they were transporting to get special medical care. She was quiet and calm, which is what they preferred since it meant a nice quiet trip.

And Vima was okay with that. Truthfully, she preferred it. The quiet gave her time to think. Not about her past, or her current medical condition, or where she was going but about Skywalker.

He was powerful, no question. Vima didn't think she'd ever seen anyone, even young Kyp, that held so much potential. When he'd reached out to her in the Force, she'd felt something akin to a spark igniting a blaze.

She couldn't stop thinking about the vision she'd had when he'd reached out to her in the Force. Over the years, there'd been many visions, many possibilities. She'd easily wandered and gotten lost through the currents of the Force over the course of her life but this was different. She'd never seen a future that grounded her, kept her focused like this.

Vima knew now that she must get to work healing herself. She'd wandered in self imposed exile for so long since she'd lost her daughter, but that must come to an end. If the Jedi were going to return, then she had to do everything in her power to make that future she saw come to pass.

Closing her eyes, she decided to indulge herself once again...

It was a beautiful planet but indistinguishable from any of a hundred temperate worlds she had seen before. Great forests, oceans, mountains, and environments of all kinds passed beneath clouds and the light of a comforting yellow star.

Then, a bright and shining city. The architecture was new and of an unfamiliar style but it was certainly beautiful. Buildings both big and small sprawled out in a form of organized chaos only sapients seemed capable of reproducing. Air and ground cars moved between the buildings while people walked beneath the gentle sun or the shade of trees. It wasn't the city or the ships that drew attention...

It was the people.

Beings of various species walked in the open, safe and happy. They seemed to draw the focus of the vision, as if all the wealth and splendor of their world and city was just a backdrop. An almost interchangeable accessory to the real beauty. It didn't take long for Vima to latch on to what was so special about these people.

They were using the Force.

A child sat in her father's lap, levitating a toy. Two teenage boys, brothers, practicing their lightsaber skills and trading friendly barbs between blows. A mother holding her baby, laughing as she floated a fluffy stuffed animal over the infant's tiny, grasping hands. So many families, so many people, safe and happy.

She saw Jedi Healers working with doctors, Knights training and returning from daring missions, Masters teaching Padawans or whole groups of younglings, and all sorts of other activities. She even saw what looked like the long gone Jedi Agricultural Corps tending fields of crops and flourishing gardens.

But it wasn't just scenes exclusive to Force sensitives. In fact, quite the opposite. Normal, non-Force sensitive beings seemed to make up the majority of the scenes she was seeing. Teaching a class, ordering a meal at a restaurant, just living alongside their Force using neighbors, their friends, and their families. It was a community unlike any she had ever seen before.

It was Harmony.

Music, art, business, education, travel, philosophy, it was a whole civilization that accommodated not just various species but held more potential than even her mother's stories of the old Jedi Order, during the Republic's height of power and glory.

It represented a chance to grow, to be at peace, and to have a true home for all Force users, not just for the members on a monastic order.

Safe.

Happy.

It was everything Vima had never dreamed possible.

Quietly, with no one around to see, a single happy tear ran down her cheek.

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

Chairwoman Mon Mothma,

I am honored by your words and appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to send me a message. Praise from one such as you is no small thing and I am humbled by your appreciation for my works. I hope to meet you in person one day that we may discuss them in person.

If I could ask anything of you, it would be to keep an eye on Kenobi in my absence. He's been out of the action for awhile now and I worry about him from time to time. He is certainly a man of rare quality, which is why I'm reassured to know that he's among those who can not only make use of his experience, but who also compliment his own talents.

More than one of the people close to me have asked me how I appear so driven. They ask me why I fight and why this cause matters to me. It's a dark galaxy we find ourselves in but I am confident that our best days are still ahead of us. It is why I believe in what the Alliance stands for and what we all fight for.

Very Respectfully,

Commander Luke Skywalker

Jedi of Many Talents

Kyp Durron, folks!

We'll get some more Vima later and might tie in her own story later on. For now, she'll need more help than Luke can provide. Professional help that the Alliance will be happy to provide once Luke explains who and what she is.

Not my best chapter, I'll admit, but I assure you all that these events are important going forward. Vima is a character I felt like doing justice by getting her out of a bad situation but Kyp is the one I'm eager to put to use. I know some of you might be a bit nervous about introducing a padawan character because it'll seem like a big course change but relax; I know what I'm doing here. As always, I'm interested in feedback and constructive criticism, so I advise everyone to let things develop a bit more before declaring that I've made a serious mistake. Sound fair?

Arb Skynxnex is an actual Star Wars character who appears and dies in one book from the old EU. I used him as the contact because it would make sense for him to still be working on Kessel during this time and perfectly willing to double deal to serve his own interests. I added a few paragraphs to his character to give him just enough lip service to seem like more than a caricature and to hint at how actions do have consequences. Things like enjoying a certain alias a little too much...

As you might have noticed, I went with the Legends depiction of Kessel for this story. While there's nothing wrong per se with the Disney Canon version, I also played a lot of Star Wars: Galactic Battlegrounds as a kid and have fond memories of trying to save the prisoners on Kessel before the Empire could shut down the atmospheric generators. I also added that bit about the gravity being wonky since any planet loosing that much mass would likely have an unstable core and gravity pull to it. I don't think that part is ever mentioned but it would make sense, given the miserable state of the planet.

This story has over 3,100 registered followers now! That's a huge milestone for me and I'm so excited that so many are enjoying my writing! Thank you all so much for your support and advice in how I write and what you like and don't like seeing! The constructive feedback is always appreciated and it always makes my day when I receive even a review just saying I'm doing a good job and that you liked the chapter.

Additionally, you all have no idea how badly I kept wanting to type 'Cadia' instead of 'Caridia.' I've been reading too much Warhammer 40k stuff, I guess.

And to the reviewer who's upset that this story isn't finished yet; perhaps you should not read fanfiction if you're so easily angered by unfinished works? It is also very clearly labeled on FFNet which fics are finished and which are still in progress. Perhaps you should, y'know, read the description before ranting in a review?

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We share memes, talk about the story, and members can have their questions answered by other readers and me!

Until next time!