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Chapter Nineteen
When the Jedi Council's meeting finally came to an end, its members filed out of the Errant Venture's conference room one by one. Tahiri could sense their lingering shock, as well as weary acceptance of the knowledge Ben had dropped on them all. Valin was the last out the door, and he turned back to her. "You coming?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not yet."
He nodded, eyes flitting away for a split-second to look over her shoulder. Then he followed after the other council members.
Tahiri closed the door and turned to face the man still seated at the table. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
Ben was slow to look up at her and even slower to respond. "I don't know," he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. "Guess I thought if no one else knew, that would make it less real."
Tahiri drew a sharp breath, struck suddenly by all that the truth entailed. Jacen Solo was alive. Jacen. Anakin and Jaina's brother, her friend, the person she'd confided in most during those first months after the Yuuzhan Vong War ended, when she'd struggled to adapt to peacetime and the slow, almost otherworldly pace of life on Zonama Sekot. It had been such a marvel, to watch him among the people and plants and wildlife, as if he'd never picked up a weapon in his life. She knew better, though. Knew that despite his desire to live out a quiet existence, his spirit was still restless. Not restless in the way Anakin had been, or Jaina, or so many of their family and friends, yearning for adventure and action and the next great challenge. No, it was a restlessness born from knowledge, from learning too much of the evils that lurked in the shadowy fringes of men's hearts, and from knowing that he might be the only one who could stop them.
He'd only mentioned it once, as they sat under the boras one night and basked in the glow of the millions of bioluminescent insects occupying the lower branches. He spoke of the battle with Onimi and the immense, awesome power that had flowed through him as he achieved complete and perfect unity with the Force. How he knew in that moment he would never achieve it again, but that he would spend the rest of his life trying.
She'd asked why he would bother trying if he already knew he was doomed to fail.
He'd smiled that lopsided Solo smile and gazed up at the gently swaying foliage. "Because at the end of the day, I'm still just an imperfect person, and the Force is still the Force. What do I truly know of its vastness, its possibilities? What do I know of my own limits? Why should I let my own perception of myself stop me from learning more, if there is more to be learned?"
He'd grown quiet, then. "I believe this peace will last. I want that more than anything. But if something new threatens that peace, don't I owe it to the galaxy and to the people I love to stand in the gap?"
"You're not the only one who bears that responsibility," she'd reminded him.
"What if I could be?" he'd whispered.
A heavy stillness had descended on the bora grove as his question hung in the air between them. "You're not all powerful, Jacen."
He'd closed his eyes and released a breath into the night. "I don't want to be all powerful, Tahiri. And anyway, I don't have to be all powerful."
He didn't say more after that, but she'd always suspected he'd left that thought unfinished.
Tahiri felt another breath hiss past her teeth as Ben finally met her gaze, drawing her back to the present. She'd wondered why he'd become so withdrawn these last few years, hiding from the Force even when he was safe among his family and friends. Now she knew.
"You're not as angry as I thought you'd be," Ben said in that simple, detached way of his, the one he used whenever he tried to convince himself he wasn't worried or afraid.
Another breath, in and out. Wasn't she angry? Shouldn't she be? She thought of Jacen again – Jacen – still out there, manipulating events for Force knew how many years, and all for what? She didn't know, could hardly even form a theory or a plan because Ben had kept it a secret from her, from all of them…
Her next question, she supposed, was also the most obvious one. "Are you going to tell Allana?"
Those blue eyes went wide with a sudden and primal terror. "No," he said without hesitation. "Absolutely not."
She found in that moment that she didn't even have the energy to be frustrated with him. "Ben, you can't keep this from her. You know you can't."
"Watch me," he snapped, more than a hint of old rebellion in his tone. Tahiri bit the inside of her lip and continued.
"She's going to find out, one way or another. Do you really want her to hear it from someone else, knowing that you kept it from her?"
"I want her to be safe." His defiance crumbled away, leaving naked fear in its wake. "It doesn't matter what she thinks of me, as long as she's safe."
Tahiri paused, carefully weighing her next question. "Does that mean you're not bringing her with us to Bakura?"
Ben gave her an exasperated look. "Of course not. You think after everything that's happened that I'd take her straight to the front lines?"
"I think you're her master, Ben. You chose to take on that role, but ever since then you've been pushing her aside. And then you decided to go undercover for six months, and not only did you leave her behind, you took two of her friends with you instead."
"I took two Jedi Knights."
"Knights, apprentices… they're teenagers, Ben, just like she is. If Bakura isn't too dangerous for Kohr and Ames, why is it too dangerous for Allana?"
"Because she's family," he said, standing up with enough force to send his chair skidding backward. "She's his family, and if I know him at all, I know he'll want her back. I'm not going to let that happen, Tahiri. Not ever."
Ben put a hand on his forehead and turned away from her, taking a few steps toward one of the conference room's gray, featureless walls. "She'll understand why she can't go," he said, quieter this time. "She'll understand that a battle with the bulk of the Sith fleet is too dangerous for an apprentice. She'll listen to reason."
Tahiri watched the back of his head for a moment, already half-regretting what she was about to say. "You mean like you did?"
He spun around so fast, it was almost inhuman. "This," he growled, "is not the same."
She shook her head. "Wake up, Ben. How old were you when you ran off to face Jacen? Fifteen? It's exactly the same."
"She's not me, Tahiri!" He raised a hand and jabbed his fingers into the center of his chest. "I was stupid! I was stupid, and I was reckless, and my dad died because of it. Allana's not like that. She doesn't lose her head like that."
The grief and desperation in his voice was almost enough to make her look away. "Who are you trying to convince, Ben?" she said as gently as she could manage. "Look, I'd love to just leave her to a peaceful life on Zonama Sekot, but you know she'd never stand for that, not when there's a whole galaxy out there suffering. The Jacen we knew might be dead, but every good part of him lives on in her. She's already involved in this war, whether you like it or not. The least you can do is be by her side through it."
Ben's expression hardened, his mouth set in a grim, determined line; and Tahiri couldn't help seeing Mara as she stared at him. Attack mode, she thought, bracing herself.
"Would you still feel the same way if we were talking about Davin and Dolan?"
Tahiri let out a long, slow breath. Definitely his mother's son, although she had a feeling Mara would have been less than impressed with his tactics in this instance.
"I'm going to pretend you weren't just using your eight-year-old cousins and the boys I've raised as emotional blackmail, and point out that our situations are not the same, for reasons I've already elaborated on. This isn't about me or the twins. This is about you and Allana and what's right."
Ben met her eyes and shook his head. "It's not fair, what you're asking me to do. I'm sorry, Tahiri; I can't tell her about Jacen, and I can't let anyone else do it, either." He turned to leave, pausing for a moment to look back at her. "Allana stays on Zonama Sekot. That's not up for discussion."
He walked out without saying another word, and Tahiri was left to stand alone in the stillness that followed. She thought about going after him, trying to convince him to see reason, when her comlink beeped on her hip. She lifted the device to her lips. "This is Tahiri."
"We're coming up on Zonama Sekot," Booster reported, all business.
"Thanks, I'll be up in a minute to prep." She slid the comlink back onto her belt and looked around at the empty room.
"I don't want to be all powerful, Tahiri. And anyway, I don't have to be all powerful."
Part of her thought it didn't matter at all what his reasons were for choosing the dark side, not after the destruction and horror he'd inflicted on the galaxy; but there was a small part of her that wished she knew why he'd turned on them, why he'd betrayed everyone and everything he'd once claimed to love, and whether it had anything to do with that quiet conversation so many years ago.
.
.
The ride down to Zonama Sekot was uneventful, a fact for which Anakin was grateful, given the last few days. No, scratch that. Given the last few weeks, maybe longer. Even before he'd arrived here, he'd been embroiled in combat in the Outer Rim, with hardly any relief. And that was still a bit surreal to think of, the fact that he'd been a general leading armies not that long ago, while here he was a Force-wielding stranger of questionable sanity, who occasionally helped blow up starfighters and crash warships. He wouldn't say that he missed fighting in the Clone Wars, exactly, although he did miss the familiarity of his enemies and the camaraderie of his men, and Obi-Wan…
He fought down a rush of grief as he stared out at the brilliant stretch of green across Zonama Sekot's surface. He wished he could tell Obi-Wan all that he'd learned from Ben about the living world. His former master would have appreciated finally learning some answers to the planet's numerous mysteries, answers they could never have imagined all those years ago.
The shuttle touched down in the center of a bora grove, surrounded on all sides by ships of various makes and models. A sort of outdoor hangar, it seemed. As Anakin stepped off the transport, he noticed the long branches of the boras stretching out above them, weaving together to create a dense canopy over the ships. For just a moment, he recalled what it felt like to be a twelve-year-old Jedi Padawan, stepping foot on this wondrous world for the first time.
Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and Anakin turned toward them, only to be met by one of the strangest looking humanoids he'd ever seen. She was female, with skin so white it was nearly translucent. Every inch of that exposed skin was laced with dark blue tattoos that curled like vines. Her long ears were pierced all the way from lobe to point, and her lips bore signs of similar piercings, although nothing currently filled those holes. The tattoos and piercings weren't what made her look strange, though; he'd seen all kinds of body decorations on many different species over the years and had grown accustomed to even the most outlandish designs. No, it was the way her skin was pulled tight against her skull, as if there wasn't quite enough of it to cover her head. It was the left arm that – while organic – looked like it belonged to an entirely different species. Anakin flexed his prosthetic arm reflexively at the sight of it.
The woman didn't seem to notice his reaction, smiling instead as Tahiri stepped to the front of their group.
"Gadma dar, Tahiri Veila," she spoke in a halting, guttural language the likes of which Anakin had never heard. The woman reached out to grasp Tahiri's arm, and the Jedi Master returned the gesture, each of them gripping just below the other's elbow.
"Al' tanna, Tai Yura Dao," Tahiri answered, the throaty words seemingly as natural to her as speaking Basic. "Is Danni close?"
The alien woman nodded. "She is in the boras nursery, but I'm sure she has sensed your presence by now."
"She has indeed." A middle-aged human woman with shoulder-length blonde hair appeared in the clearing. Tahiri released the alien woman and strode over to embrace the newcomer.
"Danni," she said, and there was no mistaking the relief in her tone. "Good to see you're all still safe."
The older woman returned the hug before pulling away to take in the assembled Jedi and children. "I'm relieved you all made it. When I couldn't contact Gren…" She shook her head and offered a warm smile. "But I suppose we'll be meeting with the rebel leaders shortly to discuss the plan?"
Anakin saw Tahiri nod in response, then wave a hand over her shoulder. Ben and the other council members broke away from their group to join her. The woman named Danni smiled again.
"Everyone," she called out, "if you'll please follow Tai Yura, she'll take you to the enclave so you can get settled and have something to eat."
Someone nudged Anakin from behind, and when he looked around, he found Allana sidling up next to him with a faint but devious grin on her face.
"First time seeing a Yuuzhan Vong in person?" she asked. "Don't worry, the ones who live here are peaceful."
Anakin couldn't help the surprise on his face. "There are more here?"
"Oh yeah, whole clans of them. They settled here after the war. This planet was sort of born from their homeworld, so they have a spiritual connection to it."
"And they don't mind sharing it with the Jedi?"
Allana shook her head, thoughtful. "I don't think so. It's a big planet, and we have a spiritual connection to it, too."
Anakin nodded his head and followed after Allana. Ben had told him about Zonama Sekot's origins and its role in the Yuuzhan Vong war, but he hadn't said much about the invaders themselves, other than the fact that they were from another galaxy, were prone to self-mutilation, used only organic technology, and had been completely cut off from the Force at some point in the past.
Okay, on second thought, maybe Ben had been pretty detailed.
A hand grasped at his, and he looked down to see Davin pulling him along the path. "Come on!" he said, brown eyes wide with excitement. "You gotta see the enclave!"
Dolan ran up alongside his twin as they half-skipped down the path. Long stalks swayed on either side of the trail, standing nearly three meters tall and tipped with translucent globes. Beyond the stalks was an endless expanse of knee-high grasses and massive, treelike boras. Calling it a forest didn't fully capture the magnitude of the delicately balanced ecosystem or the sentience that bound it all together. The people who lived here had another word for it – the tempasi, if he remembered right.
The twins circled around Allana as they continued jogging ahead, Davin carrying on a near-constant stream of chatter while Dolan supplied a word here and there. During the shuttle ride, Allana had mentioned that she and the twins had spent significant portions of their childhood here, in Zonama Sekot's secret enclave. The boys, it seemed, were happy to be home. Anakin couldn't blame them one bit. In a galaxy torn apart by war, this world was as close to paradise as most worlds came.
After a short walk, the displaced Jedi arrived at the enclave. There were about a dozen pre-fab buildings arranged in two long rows on either side of the path, which doubled in width as it entered the clearing. At the far end of the trail was a bowl-like depression that formed a natural amphitheater.
Anakin smiled as he watched the children disperse. Davin and Dolan had all but forgotten him, running down the path with several of their peers. Allana followed after, caught up in their wake, leaving him alone at the edge of the enclave.
Something rustled in the grasses next to the path, and Anakin turned toward the sound. An older woman with pale blue skin and long black hair stood near one of the boras – a native Ferroan, by the look of her. There was something different about her in the Force, something he couldn't put his finger on. She raised a hand to him, motioning for him to join her. Curious, he left the path and strode through the field of grasses, following her deeper into the tempasi.
She stopped in a small clearing, a few meters wide, where only one shaft of sunlight broke through the dense canopy. Then she turned to him, and Anakin felt his eyes go wide.
He knew her face.
"Hello, Anakin. I didn't think I would see you again. I was told you were dead."
Anakin studied the woman, felt her strange, shifting presence. Here, but not here. "Jabitha?" he said, testing the name of the girl he had met all those years ago, frowning because it still didn't feel right. He watched her watching him, a small, knowing smile on her lips, and suddenly her presence was more, was everything.
Oh. He understood now. "Hello… Sekot."
The image before him smiled wider. He supposed it probably was Jabitha's form Sekot had taken, and he wondered if that meant that she, too, was dead.
"You've been through much since we last met," Sekot said, "but I still recognized you instantly."
Anakin exhaled softly. "From what I hear, you've been through a lot, too."
The image shimmered for a moment, color shifting in pearlescent waves across its surface. Jabitha disappeared, replaced by a young boy; Anakin realized, with a start, that he was looking at himself. His twelve-year-old double shrugged. "What's a few decades when you've existed for millennia?"
"Existed, maybe. But your consciousness was still young when we met."
"You remember." Sekot studied him for a moment, tilting its head to one side. "There is something strange about you, though, isn't there? I can feel it… the Force knows. I think maybe it sent you here."
"Sent me?" That seemed like the only explanation, really, and yet he hadn't allowed himself to dwell on that possibility for long.
"Yes," Sekot continued. "You must have wondered why you're here."
"Maybe you could give me a hint, because I'm coming up short."
"I'm no more partial to the mysteries of the Force than you or anyone else in this galaxy; I'm simply larger, with a unique and greater perspective. An immensity, but also a unity, as you once described me. If I see more clearly, it's because I see through many eyes, and have connected with so many lifeforms."
Sekot's form shuddered again, and the image of Anakin's younger self was replaced by a man, one who looked to have only recently shed the last vestiges of boyish youth. His brown eyes were full of warmth, which was perhaps the reason it took Anakin several long seconds to recognize the image of his grandson.
Anakin swallowed hard as he looked into Jacen's eyes. "How long have you known?"
"Not as long as you have, it would seem." That voice. It wasn't quite as deep as the one he'd heard on Vjun, and there was a gentleness to it that was completely at odds with the Sith Master who had torn him down. He felt his chest tighten as he realized who it reminded him of, and he wondered if anyone had ever told Allana how much like her father she truly was.
"I thought I felt him," Sekot said. "A few times, reaching out for me. But the contact was always fleeting. You see, we had already started sheltering the Jedi here, and I knew I couldn't allow any presence to track me, no matter their intentions."
"You never told anyone?"
"As I said, the contact was fleeting, and I thought perhaps I was imagining it. Missing an old friend."
Anakin studied the face before him, the face of his grandson, the face of his legacy in more ways than one. "What caused him to fall?"
The sadness that stirred in the air around Sekot was surprising in its depth. The image of Jacen took a step toward the sunlight, one hand brushing the tops of the long grasses that surrounded them. "I don't have the answer you seek. The Jacen Solo I knew had many paths open to him, and for a time he was content to explore them here. But he felt called to greater, more expansive knowledge, and so he left to travel the stars and explore the Force in new ways." Sekot paused, and it felt to Anakin as though the whole planet took a breath. He supposed that wasn't far from the reality of it. "Jacen had an enormous capacity for empathy, and his love for his family was deep and abiding, even though he felt somehow separated from them by all that he'd endured."
Anakin thought he understood that feeling, in a way. All the time he'd spent away from Padmé over the last three years, and the secrets he'd kept from Obi-Wan during that same time… he'd held himself at a distance from them both, without even realizing it.
"You know," Sekot continued, "many years ago, Jacen refused my help in the war against the Yuuzhan Vong, saying that he couldn't accept it if it meant committing genocide. He wanted an end to the fighting as much as anyone, but he believed such a course of action would turn his people into the very monsters they sought to repel.
"Luke chose differently, when I offered. He was bitterly torn, as Jacen was, but he was willing to accept my help, because he loved his son, and he wanted a brighter future for him and for all the other people in this galaxy. Even if it meant the end of the Yuuzhan Vong."
Something rankled inside Anakin at that, at the suggestion that his son was anything less than the compassionate, noble-hearted hero he knew him to be, or that Jacen had ever held any moral superiority over him.
Sekot raised one eyebrow. "I make no moral judgment, Anakin. Just as I have never judged you for what you did to protect me and my people so long ago."
Anakin let out a heavy breath and shook his head. "There's a lot more you could judge me for."
The image of his grandson frowned. "Is that what you want? To be judged? To be told you are damned? That there's nothing left for you to do but die for your crimes?"
Anakin opened his left hand and stared down at it, at the inflamed circle of skin in the center of his palm. Then he closed it into a fist. "Maybe that's what I deserve."
"But is that what will do the most good? Isn't it your calling as a Jedi Knight, to be a guardian of peace and justice? To protect those who cannot protect themselves?" Sekot raised one hand toward that single ray of sunshine. "To be a light against the darkness?"
Anakin watched the interplay of sunlight and shadow between Sekot's fingers, unable to shake the grief that clung to him.
Sekot closed its eyes, still reaching toward the sun. "I once told Jacen that we all have two choices when faced with danger: to run, or to fight."
"Are you telling me to run, or are you urging me to fight?"
"Neither. I wouldn't presume to advise you of which course is best. That's a choice only you can make."
"Great," Anakin muttered, raising both eyebrows.
"However," Sekot continued, slowly lowering its hand, "there is a third option, one that I learned from both Jacen and Luke."
"And that is?"
Sekot met his eyes and smiled. "Stand."
The light faded, and when Anakin looked up, he realized the sun had begun to dip toward the horizon and was no longer visible through the gap in the canopy.
Stand. Was it really as simple as that?
"I sometimes wonder," Sekot said quietly, almost a whisper, "if the only thing that made their initial answers different was that Luke had a child and Jacen did not." Then the sentient planet's image shrugged and raised a hand in the direction they'd come. "I suppose you ought to get back to the others. I suspect you won't be staying here much longer. But it was good to see you again, my old friend."
Friend. For some reason, Anakin was reminded briefly of his reunion with Artoo on the Daybreak. He looked at Sekot's outstretched hand – Jacen's hand – and in that moment, he felt utterly and achingly alone.
"Yeah," he said, forcing a rueful smile. "I guess it's fitting that the last remaining people who knew me in this world and who I knew in mine wouldn't even be people at all."
"And yet you've made several new connections since you arrived here, haven't you?"
He thought of Davin and Dolan running among the boras, so eager to show him their home. He thought of the way Tahiri had looked at him on Zihrent, the gratitude that had shone in her eyes, even though she had to know exactly who he was. Allana's head resting against his shoulder as they watched the sunrise.
Ben smirking every time he called him Gramps, or reaching out to catch him on Vjun, or sitting next to him on the sands of Tatooine.
"Yes," Anakin murmured, "I guess I have."
.
.
The holoconference with the Rebel leaders ended late in the afternoon, as Zonama Sekot's current sun sank lower in the sky, and its light stretched across the tempasi, filtering between the leafy branches of the boras. The meeting had gone well, Ben thought. Better than he could have ever dreamed. He'd had no idea how many rebel cells Syal and Myri were connected to, or how deep their influence ran. He was starting to believe they might actually have a chance of not only breaking the blockade of Bakura, but of bringing some actual hurt to the Sith fleet.
He and Tahiri walked in silence along the main path through the enclave. Karanya and Valin had already gone off to find their children, Karanya to shows hers to their new temporary home, and Valin to inform his that he would be shipping out with the Jedi strike team. Ben knew that it was weighing on Tahiri, the fact that she, too, would have to leave her children behind. But Davin and Dolan would be safe here, at least.
And of course, there was still something Ben needed to take care of before he left. He sighed and kicked at the dirt path beneath his boots. He wasn't looking forward to it one bit, but it had to be done.
They found them in the amphitheater. Several of the children were putting on a silly, improvised performance while their audience – a small group of younglings and their parents, plus a few teenage apprentices – watched. Allana was sitting next to Anakin near the back of the amphitheater, with Davin and Dolan on either side of them. She looked over her shoulder, her expression shifting from carefree to guarded in an instant at the sight of him. Did she know what he'd come here to say, or was that just her automatic reaction to being near him these days?
Anakin and the twins noticed Allana's distraction, and they turned and spotted Ben and Tahiri. The boys scrambled to their feet and launched themselves at their guardian; Tahiri caught them with practiced ease, sinking to her knees as she wrapped them in her arms.
"Are you done with all your meetings?" Davin asked quickly.
Tahiri's presence was hesitant, but she favored them with a smile. "For now," she said.
Ben looked over her head at Allana and inhaled. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
The twins continued to jabber away with Tahiri as Allana rose to join him. He caught Anakin watching them, but he ignored him, turning to walk back up the path. Allana followed after him, staying one step behind. When they were out of earshot of the others, he stopped.
"You're leaving me here," Allana said, failing to disguise the tremor in her voice.
Ben turned to face her, aware of the distance between them, how it seemed impossibly vast and uncrossable in that moment. "It's for the best."
"I know," she said, glancing down at the dirt. "I'd just get in the way."
Ben rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, something twisting inside him. "I don't want you to get hurt."
She looked up at him, her gray eyes clouded with resignation and worry. "I don't want you to get hurt," she replied, a low murmur.
He almost reached out to her then. He knew he should, and he couldn't understand or explain why he didn't. Would it fix everything between them if he did? Or would it just make it hurt more when he left?
"I won't be gone long," he said lightly, forcing some false cheer into his voice. "You won't even miss me."
I always miss you, she said in a whisper of thought, too pointed for him to ignore.
That twisting feeling again, so tight he almost couldn't breathe from it. "Allana—"
He was interrupted by the return of Tahiri with the twins, and Anakin trailing after them. "It's almost twenty hundred hours," she said evenly, green eyes traveling slowly from Ben to Allana and back again. "Time to go."
Ben swallowed and looked past her at Anakin. He hadn't bothered asking whether his grandfather planned to join in the mission to free Bakura; he already knew what the other man's answer would be, just as he knew it would have been futile to try to convince him to stay here. "Okay," he answered, and took a step away from Allana. Next to Tahiri, the twins were silent. "Hey," Ben said, catching their attention. "You guys behave for Allana and Master Nal, okay?"
They both nodded wordlessly. Davin tried to puff his chest out bravely while Dolan merely looked down at the ground, his long, dark bangs hanging over his eyes. Ben reached out to ruffle their hair, and while they didn't relax as they usually did, he felt a swell of affection from each of them.
As the boys turned to Tahiri for one more goodbye hug, Ben saw Anakin wrap Allana in an embrace, then whisper something he couldn't hear. She closed her eyes and laughed under her breath, hugging him tighter. Then they let go of each other, and Anakin walked over to join Ben and Tahiri.
"Come on," Tahiri said softly, raising both eyebrows. "Our transport awaits."
Ben nodded, and he and Anakin followed her up the path, the one that would take them away from the enclave and away from their family; and who knew if they would ever return?
He turned back once, just a brief glance over his shoulder as they reached the farthest boundary of the enclave, thinking – no, hoping – that he might see Allana still standing there in the distance. But the amphitheater had emptied, and the enclave's occupants all returned to their homes; and there was no sign of her.
.
.
It was nearly dark by the time Allana returned Davin and Dolan to the cozy, temporary dwelling where Karanya Nal and her three children were staying. Though her cousins had been despondent most of the way home, they cheered up considerably when they walked through the door and saw Master Nal putting dinner on the table. The two boys ran to the kitchenette, peering into mixing bowls and examining the leftover ingredients scattered across the counter.
Karanya smiled at Allana as she set a salad bowl on the wooden table. "There's plenty for everyone."
Allana tried to smile for the twins' sake. "Thank you, but I'm not very hungry. I was actually going to take a walk. If you don't mind, that is."
"Not at all, sweetheart," Karanya replied, smiling again as she wiped her hands on a towel. "I understand; it's been a hard week for all of us. I'll make up a plate for you, in case you're hungry when you get back."
"Thank you."
Karanya looked over her shoulder, redirecting her attention to the twins. "Boys, would you go in the other room and tell the girls and Renner that dinner is ready?"
Davin and Dolan scrambled to obey, only turning back at the last second. "Bye, Allana," Davin said.
Dolan waved. "See you later."
She raised a hand to wave back, but they were already gone. She smiled one last time at Master Nal and promised to return before it got too late.
Once the door slid shut behind her, Allana took a deep breath. The air was so still tonight, even if the planet wasn't. She had to admit, it was nice to be back on Zonama Sekot. She'd missed how alive it was. Of course, other planets were alive, too; but none of them could quite compare with a world that had its own lifeforce, its own sentience. She felt more at home here than she ever had living on Hapes. She supposed part of that had to do with how young she'd been when she left her homeworld. But she liked to think she would have felt this connection regardless of time spent elsewhere.
Allana tilted her head back to look up at the stars. They were different every time thanks to the massive hyperdrive engines that kept the planet on the move. She wondered if Ben and the others had left the system yet. She couldn't feel them, so it was possible they were already on their way to rendezvous with the rebel fleet. Once again, she'd been left behind.
She understood Ben's reasons this time, she really did. It didn't make it hurt any less, but she got it. The barely contained fear in his eyes said it all. This was going to be a dangerous and important mission, and she would only be a hindrance to him.
As she wandered toward the edge of the enclave, she felt a slight disturbance in the Force. It was coming from one of the buildings the Jedi had constructed to serve as a classroom. Allana frowned. That building should have been empty at this time of night. She changed direction and headed toward the source of the disturbance, her path lit by globes of bioluminescence that topped the tall plant stalks along the main trail.
She had almost reached the front door when she heard voices. Both were garbled, but one was definitely a child's voice. They were coming from outside the back of the building. Allana walked around to the side, wondering if one of the adults had caught a youngling sneaking out, when she heard the child say something that stopped her dead in her tracks.
"The Jedi are on their way to fight you."
It must have been a mistake; she had to have misheard somehow. Yes, she'd wondered how the Sith could have found them so quickly after Vjun, but this was a child she was hearing, not a spy. It wasn't possible, was it?
Allana crept close enough to the corner of the building to peek out and see a small blond boy holding a tiny holoproj out in front of him. The hologram it produced was too small for her to make out the Sith Lord on the other end, but his voice was as clear now as if he were standing there.
"Don't worry, Roan. They won't be fighting me. I'll be on Coruscant the whole time."
Allana leaned against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut, continuing to listen to the carefully measured voice that accompanied the hologram.
"You have done very well, my son. I will retrieve you soon."
Allana pressed a hand to her mouth, and her heart began to race. A few more words were exchanged between the boy and the hologram, but she could no longer hear them because someone else was speaking in her head, a fragment of a memory she'd almost forgotten she had.
—a warm kiss against her cheek—
—his fingers pulling away from hers—
—his voice, gentle and strong and sad—
"You remember how much I love you, no matter what. I'll be back for you soon."
He was alive. How was he alive? How was it even possible? Allana kept her hand clamped over her mouth because she was sure that if she didn't, she would scream.
Suddenly it was quiet, and she realized the conversation was over. Even half paralyzed by shock she knew she had to stop the boy and turn him over to the Masters. As she stepped around the corner to confront the child, she ran smack into him, knocking him and his holoproj to the ground. Before he could get up, she called the holoproj to her hand and held it up between them.
"I heard everything," she said. In the faint, bioluminescent glow of the gently swaying globes, Allana could see that the boy – Roan – was very young, probably no more than six years old. His brown eyes were wide, but not from fear, exactly. There was something else there, something she couldn't put her finger on.
"Are you her?" he asked.
Allana's eyes narrowed. Why wasn't he more concerned about getting caught? "What do you mean?"
Roan's gaze wandered, and his voice grew quiet. "One time I could feel my papa looking for someone. I saw a picture in my head… are you her?"
Allana felt her stomach lurch. With just a few words this kid had turned her entire world upside down. His papa. She stared at him hard, and as she did, she began to see the resemblance. It wasn't terribly strong, but she could see it in the eyes and nose. Without thinking, Allana touched her own nose.
"Yes," she said at last, feeling the full weight of that admission. "I'm her. I'm Allana, your… your sister."
Roan nodded, reaching for the holoproj. "He'll want to know right away."
"No." Allana withdrew the holoproj and tucked it under her cloak. "No, I don't think that's a good idea."
Roan dropped his hand. "Are you going to send me back?"
"Of course not, why—" She cut herself off as realization struck. "Do you not want to go back?"
He hesitated and bit his lip before shaking his head. Allana reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Has he ever hurt you?"
"No," Roan answered, squirming a little. "He hurts everyone else."
"And that's why you don't want to go?"
"Uh-huh. And because it's scary there. I get sick a lot."
Allana couldn't bear to imagine what his life was like surrounded by evil and darkness all the time. "Come here," she said, pulling him into her arms. She was surprised at how forcefully he clung to her. "It's going to be okay. You don't have to go back there ever again."
Roan looked up at her, and she saw tears in his eyes. "He knows where I am. He'll find me."
Allana kneeled down in front of him. "This planet can travel through hyperspace, so we can go somewhere he won't find you."
"But you still have the holoprojector." His voice was small as he pointed to her cloak. Allana looked down and pulled the holoproj out to study it.
"Is this a homing beacon?" she asked.
He nodded, looking so guilty she didn't know what to say. The obvious solution to Roan's problem would be to destroy the holoproj and the beacon along with it.
"I'll be back for you soon."
He was looking for her. How long had he been looking for her? Eight years? She swallowed hard and curled her fingers around the edges of the device.
"Roan," she said, "let me make sure I completely understand you. If I were to take this holoproj somewhere else, somewhere far away from you, would he come for me?"
"Yes."
"Would he know it wasn't you with the beacon?"
Roan shifted uncomfortably. "No. I don't think so."
Allana tried to still the tremor in her hands. She pocketed the holoproj and held Roan at arm's length. "Do you know how to get back to your room?"
"Yes."
"Good. I want you to go back there now, and don't tell anyone about this conversation. You're safe here; no one is going to take you away. Understand?"
Roan nodded bravely.
Allana was about to send him on his way when a thought occurred to her. "Roan, have you met Davin and Dolan?"
"Yes. They taught me how to play ball."
Allana reached out a hand to touch his cheek. "They're your cousins. Our father and their mother were brother and sister."
That seemed to interest him. "Like me and you?"
She smiled at him but couldn't quite hide the sadness in her voice. "Yeah. Like you and me." She hugged him one more time, then turned him back toward the enclave. "Now go on." She watched until he disappeared into the shadows. Once he was gone, she stood up and leaned against the building, pulling out the tiny holoproj once more.
Eight years she'd thought him dead. Eight years wondering if he'd ever really meant to come back for her, wondering if she could have done more to bring him back to the light. The logical part of her reminded her that she'd been seven years old and that whatever choice he made, it didn't have to do with her; but in her heart she couldn't accept that because when you loved someone you had to think about their needs, too. So why hadn't he realized she needed her father? Why wasn't she enough to save him?
Allana closed her eyes, remembering his face as it had been – warm, kind, more handsome to her than any of the men on Hapes or elsewhere. He was still in there somewhere. No one could bury that much goodness. She wasn't seven anymore. She could turn him back to the good side. If Anakin Skywalker could return to the light after being evil for so long, then so could Jacen Solo.
She had to go now, had to get the beacon off Zonama Sekot before the Sith could track it there. A few ships were kept in a sheltered grove nearby; if she hurried, she could be offworld and out of the sector before anyone realized she was missing. She turned the holoproj over and over between her fingers, heart still racing at the thought of what she was about to do. She should leave a message for Karanya, so she and the twins wouldn't worry.
She should send a message to Ben.
Allana ran to the grove where the starships were docked, boarding the smallest one. It looked more like an auxiliary shuttle for a larger ship than a vessel in its own right, but it would do the job. While the ship ran through pre-flight diagnostics, she found the craft's holorecorder and brought it online.
She stood still for a moment, staring into the faintly glowing lens of the recorder, her tongue suddenly too big for her mouth. She had to tell Ben. She couldn't leave without telling him. But how to begin when she already knew what his reaction would be? She fidgeted with the hem of her tunic, searching for the right words.
In the end, she knew the only thing she could tell Ben was the truth. She owed him that much.
The ship hummed around her, systems chirping as one-by-one they were cleared for flight. Allana reached out to start the recording unit, then she folded her hands together in front of her and put on the best smile she could manage. Everything would work out, she knew, because the Force was with her. She could feel it.
.
.
As far as punishments went, serving as nanny and escort to Lord Krayt's little protégé was hardly the worst hand they could have been dealt. Humiliating and far beneath them, yes; but they were still alive and still in the Master's service. Darth Ferrus had to be at least somewhat grateful for that.
A sideways glance told him all he needed to know about his brother's mood. Even without their bond and the Force, he could see Festus was still stewing over his defeat on Vjun and their failure at Haven. The flippancy with which he usually conducted himself had been replaced by steadily seething anger; one false word might send him into a rage that even Ferrus didn't care to be present for.
"How much further, Yaanis?" Ferrus said, leaning forward to address the Rodian Lesser who was flying their shuttle. They should have been there by now.
"Two minutes to realspace, my lord."
Ferrus sat back in his chair, wincing a little as he did so. The lightsaber wound across his abdomen was healing, but every now and again it burned enough to take his breath away. The Sith valued strength, but they also valued pain. Another punishment, another lesson learned.
"I can't believe the little brat was on Vjun and we never even realized it."
Ferrus looked over in surprise at Festus. Not surprise at what he'd said – he and his twin had already had this conversation several times in the days following Vjun – but at the fact that he'd spoken at all. Festus hadn't said a word to him the entire trip, and now he wanted to talk?
Typical.
"Really?" Ferrus said. "You want to start this now that we're about to bring the kid on board?"
"Afraid to hurt his precious wittle feelings?" Festus said with a snarl.
"Afraid to get in even more trouble with the Master!"
Festus looked like he was about to reach for his lightsaber, but at the last second he flung his hand in the air in a gesture more reminiscent of his usual self. "Like I care what Solo's little orphan bastard tells the Master. He was lucky to be spared. He's the Master's pet project, nothing more."
Ferrus crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat. "Which one was he anyway? I still haven't figured it out. Hardly anyone knows what he looks like."
Festus stared at him sidelong for a moment. "The blond boy who came with the last shipment. The one who made too much eye contact."
"The one you said was creepy?"
His brother nodded. "His incredibly reliable source of intel is a fragging kid. And he's punishing us?" The scorn in his voice was thick enough to choke on.
Ferrus rolled his eyes. The self-pity was getting ridiculous. "You're the one who's always saying to trust the Master's plan. Why don't you just say what you're really mad about, huh? You went after the princess alone and were almost killed by some random Jedi who took you down without breaking a sweat."
"He took me by surprise!" Festus snapped, slamming his fist against the hull. "You weren't there, you don't know what happened!"
Ferrus tapped a finger against his temple. "I'm always there, brother." He was enjoying the role reversal, playing the calm and collected twin for once.
Festus snarled again and turned away, running a hand over his throat. That part of the fight Ferrus had seen – and felt – clearly through his brother. Windpipe constricting, legs kicking uselessly against the air, the Force refusing to answer his call. Ferrus had felt his brother's utter helplessness as the mysterious Jedi Knight summoned the dark side in a way neither of them could have expected.
The shuttle dropped out of hyperspace at the coordinates sent to them from the beacon. A single small ship floated in what was otherwise a void – no nearby planets or other heavenly bodies. Just the lights from their ships and the far-off stars. Yaanis looked at them over his shoulder. "Shall I dock with the vessel, my lords?"
"Go ahead," Ferrus said, scooting forward to get a better look at the craft. "How did he end up way out here in that thing? He's just a little kid."
"Who cares?" Festus replied. "Let's just get this over with and get back to Coruscant."
They waited in silence as their shuttle mounted on top of the smaller craft and extended its docking ring. Once the tube was sealed, Yaanis opened the hatch.
Ferrus dropped down first, followed by his brother. The ship they'd entered was quiet and appeared empty, but Ferrus sensed one lifeform. "Come on," he said. "Kid's in the cockpit."
They walked straight down the short corridor to the cockpit door and opened it without any trouble. But when it slid open, it wasn't a little boy who was facing them.
It was the princess-in-exile Allana Djo.
She held both hands out, her lightsaber resting in her palms. "I surrender myself into your custody," she said with a calm, almost regal assuredness. Coming from such a tiny girl, it was strangely intimidating, though Ferrus would never admit to being impressed. She definitely wasn't the pitiful, cowering child he remembered from the enclave.
Behind him, Ferrus felt his brother's dark glee. "My, my, what an interesting turn of events," Festus said. "I suppose this wasn't such a bad trip after all."
Ferrus reached out and grabbed the girl's lightsaber. "You might wish you hadn't given this up so easily," he said, nodding his head in Festus's direction. "He hasn't been too happy about what happened the last time you two met."
Festus pushed past him and grabbed Allana by the wrists, jerking her toward him. "We'll have plenty of time to discuss it on the way to Coruscant, won't we, Allana?"
Despite her proximity to Festus, the girl managed to tilt her chin up and stare at her captor as though he were the dirt she'd scraped off her boots. "The only thing we're going to discuss is how quickly you will deliver me to your master, Darth Krayt."
Festus lifted one hand to touch the end of Allana's braid. Then he tilted his head sideways and leaned in close, whispering in her ear. "And why would the Master of the Sith give a damn about you, little princess?"
Ferrus was surprised when she turned her head to look straight into Festus's eyes, her face only centimeters from his. "Because," she said, a faint smirk quirking her lips. "I'm his daughter. And he's been looking for me for a long, long time."
.