And Vega Lights My Way – chapter 4
We don't teach kids how to feel, we don't give them the words to go by. –
John
Denver
Schurke leaned back languidly in Kampher's arms, a warm snifter of Corellian brandy in his hand.
"I'm glad Aubé and Kay'leb decided to go out for a nightcap," he sighed contentedly. "And I thought that damned Mon Calamari representative would never leave!"
Kampher stroked his head and allowed her fingers to gently brush his cheek. "You had something else in mind? I mean, while the children are gone?"
"Possibly..." he replied, with an arch of the eyebrow. "Once you tell me what is really on your mind."
Kampher smiled. "Is it that obvious?"
"Skywalker." Schurke murmured softly. "He's Toboo's son, isn't he." It wasn't a question.
"Yes." She tensed. Kampher knew that Schurke refused to consider the possibility that Anakin and Darth Vader were actually one and the same, at least on the surface, and she wondered where this conversation would lead, if anywhere at all.
"Sad to think he never knew..." Schurke thinned his lips. "And we won't have that conversation again, Kam. Anakin Skywalker died in the last days of the Clone Wars. Even though there was never a proper service…" He trailed off, considering.
"That... monster..."
"Vader..." Kampher interjected gently.
Schurke continued as if Kampher hadn't interrupted him. "Vader was a man who people made into a Cacodemon. They acted as if he'd walked right out of Naboo's folklore... as if he was everywhere at once and nowhere at all..."
"Schurke," Kam leaned down and kissed him tenderly, "not tonight, please." Her expression became almost playful, her voice husky. "No children… no guests…"
"No more wasting time…" Schurke pulled her head back down and kissed her deeply. Within minutes, they had retired to their bedroom, the conversation all but forgotten.
"So tell me, sister of mine," Kay'leb began amicably, a Corrillian fire-whiskey in hand.
"You spent some quality time with Commander Skywalker…"
They had secured a secluded booth at a rather exclusive restaurant and were almost guaranteed privacy, but Aubé still lowered her head and voice, and Kay'leb strained over the table to hear her.
"The Commander knowssomething Kay, and mother didn't exactly hide it."
"What are you talking about?"
Aubé rubbed her face wearily. She was certain her brother understood iexactly/i what she was talking about, but in the universally irritating way of siblings, she was ialso/i certain that her brother was being deliberately obtuse.
She decided to try a different tack.
"Do you remember – when we were growing up – when Papa found us fighting in the garden, pretending we had lightsabers…."
Kay'leb laughed. "I think Papa aged 20 years in as many seconds… even though we were just play acting, it was almost as if he was frightened."
"It was a bad time to even appear sympathetic to the Jedi, Kay." Aubé reminded him. "But do you remember what else happened? I mean after?"
"Papa went into his bedroom and didn't come out for hours…"
"And that's when Mama started telling us the stories…"
Kay'leb grew thoughtful. "The truth you mean. Not the fairy-tales about the Jedi that we learned in school."
"What little they told us anyway," Aubé agreed readily. "And you remember when Mother started giving us lessons…"
"And Papa – at first he was so adamant that we shouldn't learn. He said it was dangerous." Kay'leb cocked an eyebrow at his sister. "Bé, just because Commander Skywalker learned the Jedi ways… or are you implying that there's more to the story that our parents told us? Do you think that Mother learned her healing techniques somewhere else? Not – as she told us – from a Jedi who was stranded on her home-world."
Aubé thinned her lips, but said nothing.
Kay-leb sighed. "Bé, just because the Empire tried to eradicate the Jedi and people who understood the Force – that doesn't make every Force user or sensitive in the Galaxy a Jedi in hiding."
"Not every Force user Kay," Aubé said thoughtfully. "Just our Mother…
Luke lay back on his modest bunk and put his arms behind his head, grateful for the chance to finally be alone again.
Lieutenant Canaille… Nails… Aubé… she had looked beautiful tonight. Or perhaps she had always been beautiful, and he had just failed to really notice.
No, there was something else tonight. Luke thought to himself. It wasn't just the civilian clothes. It was something else… something elusive.
He rolled over and sighed.
The Mother, Lady Canaille. What was it about her? He'd met other beings, who in other times might have been potential Jedi students. Their presence always sparkled a little in the Force.
Nails – Aubé - definitely had that quality. Though on those rare occasions when he had tried read her she had seemed muted, as if she was hiding her light beneath a Rookna Tree.
Lady Canaille, however, virtually sang in the Force, as if by her very being she celebrated its existence.
Well, hopefully tomorrow he would have some answers. While Leia and the rest met with the various representatives, he would meet with Nails – and Lady Canaille.
