Chapter 1

Mara Jade had no great love for dreams. As a rule, they either were signs of some pending upheaval in her life or were memories of her career as the Emperor's Hand. Neither was welcome. So when she woke up one morning with flickering images of a small boy teasing at the edge of her consciousness, she sighed resignedly and began preparing for her world to shatter once more.

There was one redeeming quality about these dreams, she reflected, and that was the absence of a certain scheming, sadistic and incidentally dead Sith Lord commanding her to kill someone. In fact, the only thing they had in common with the nightmares that drove her to hunt Luke Skywalker for five years was her uncomfortable conviction that the Force was messing with her life again. She had certainly never seen this child before, and yet she dreamed of him with impossibly clarity…heartbreaking clarity, she thought, then puzzled over her choice of the word. Omen or not, the dreams themselves were far from tragic.

"Reimi, come inside! It's time to eat, and you're covered with filth!" The little boy pushed a heavy, unruly lock of hair out his eyes and scowled in the direction of the voice. "Am not," he muttered defiantly. "Don't wanna go in." He climbed laboriously out of the hole he had been digging and started to sneak out of range of the window.

"Whoa, there, my young adventurer, where do you think you're going?" Strong arms scooped him up and tossed him high into the air.

"Daddy!" Reimi shrieked happily, designs of rebellion momentarily forgotten. The man blinked rapidly and laughed as clumps of dirt sprinkled onto his face.

"For a fellow who's truly not filthy, you certainly know how to keep up appearances." He set the boy down and snatched up a fistful of hair, revealing an almost black face.

"Hmm," he said, voice mock-serious, "Private, I find you guilty of mutiny, of possessing illegal amounts of soil, and of having enough fur to shame a Wookie. This court hereby sentences you to five seconds of fast chewing, sentence to be carried out immediately." The man's hand whipped into his pocket and pressed a chunk of candy into his son's grimy fingers.

"Lan, is that you?" The door to the house swung open and a woman stepped out, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Swallow, fast!" the man whispered, and walked away to gather the woman in an embrace. Over her shoulder, he winked at Reimi. The boy returned a wide, sticky blue grin.

Every night she learned a little more of Reimi, observed more of the charmed life he led. He longed to be an adventurer. He hated school with a passion. His laugh was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

Over the course of several weeks, the dreams began to show an older boy, and finally a man. The love of blue candy and digging he grew out of; the untidy shock of dark hair and stubbornness he did not. He had everything: vigor, high spirits, courage, a strong, if not handsome face, and eventually, the love of a beautiful wife and daughter. Curse you, lucky sithspawn, she thought wryly one morning. You're only a projection of my subconscious, and you still manage to be as nauseating as Skywalker. Well, almost. The caustic sarcasm came easily, but deep within she knew it was not meant. Having seen and experienced so much pain in her own life, she didn't have the heart to begrudge another's happiness, even if he was only a dream. Now, Skywalker, on the other hand…

Why, then, did silent, misty sadness soak every image, as if the Force itself was shedding tears?

OoooOooooO

Luke Skywalker took a deep breath and stepped into the cabin of the Wild Karrde. It was like Mothma to send him to do the dirty jobs, he grumbled to himself. Or maybe just the jobs she thought no one else would survive.

"Hey, Mara."

"Skywalker," Mara acknowledged shortly. She continued to fiddle with the wiring in the weapon's panel, not bothering to look at him. "Can it wait? I'm busy."

"Actually…no." For some reason, he was suddenly reminded vividly of his duel with the Rancor. Odd. "Council sent me with a message." Without warning, the temperature in the room dropped sharply. Or at least he thought it did.

"Oh?" Maybe it was just the ice in her tone. Luke rubbed his arms anyways.

"With Karrde still in the med bay and the crew grounded, they want us to do another mission. Oh, and there's a shipment Karrde wants you to pick up on the planet, so he's requested that you go." Slowly, deliberately, Mara finished repairing the broken valve, laid down the hydrospanner, and turned around to contemplate him. Luke shifted nervously, his memories taking an abrupt swing to the cave on Hoth. He had been hanging by his feet in ice, then, with yet another hungry monster attempting to ingest him. He shook the thoughts out of his head, along with the tiny suspicion that they were very likely Force premonitions.

"Skywalker." The name sounded like a curse. Perhaps it was, Luke mused. "As long as you're playing courier, I have a message for the Council." Mara's voice was smooth, but her Force sense was blazing indignation and fury. The emperor's throne room, dark and menacing, a black wave of impending doom washing over him… She proceeded to give her message. Five minutes into it, he gently pushed the door closed. It didn't matter that the only other people in earshot were fighter pilots. Luke wasn't sure that even the Rouge Squadron's impressive vocabulary was as extensive as Mara's. Another five minutes later, he was certain.

"I'll relay it," he said gravely when she paused to take a breath, and made a very fast and un-Jedi-like retreat. Halfway across the hanger, he sensed the hydrospanner hurtling toward him with deadly accuracy and dodged it neatly. He grinned and sent out a smug thought.

Kind of messy for an ex-Emperor's Hand, Mara.

After we finish this mission, message-boy, I will show you in exquisite detail the fullest meanings and implications of 'messy.'

Are you by any chance threatening me? I'm sensing a lot of negative feelings in your words.

That's not a threat. It's your kriffing destiny.

Destiny. Luke sighed, good mood evaporating. He withdrew his mind and headed up the corridor to Mon Mothma's office. She would be pleased to know Mara had accepted without maiming him or destroying the hangar.