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Chapter Twenty-One

The hangars of the Harbinger were a flurry of activity, and as Arden helped Elias carry supplies to the Daybreak, she couldn't help looking around in awe. Rebel technicians buzzed around the starfighters, prepping them for combat, while their pilots finished pulling on flight suits, inspecting their gear, or in some cases, chatting idly in the shadows of their ships. It was difficult to judge what the overall mood was. Not fully hopeful, but nowhere near defeated.

Arden very carefully set down a case of detonators. "I didn't know there were so many rebels out there," she said. "The holofeeds always made it sound like the resistance was a dying, scattered group of terrorists."

Elias looked at her over his shoulder and grinned. "Pretty impressive, huh? Syal really outdid herself, scraping this whole fleet together."

"Commander Antilles," Arden corrected, shaking her head. "I didn't see that coming. She seems so normal."

Elias raised an amused eyebrow. "Normal?"

Arden stuck her tongue out at him and rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. I never could have imagined becoming friends with a fleet commander, is all."

"I do know what you mean," Elias conceded. "That's how I felt when Ben and I became friends and he started introducing me to his family and all of their friends."

Arden smiled at him, at the hint of awe in his voice. "You'll have to tell me all about that sometime."

He smiled in return. "Yeah."

A group of pilots jogged past them, and overhead a comm unit blared, telling all personnel to report to their stations. "You think we'll make it through this?" Arden said once the comm unit fell silent.

Elias took her hand in his. "I hope so. But if we don't—"

"I love you."

She hadn't meant to blurt it out so abruptly, but she had to say it now, before they were swept up in the battle, before it was too late.

Elias gathered her fully into his arms and lifted a hand to her cheek. "I love you, too," he murmured. She tucked her head under his chin, turning so she could listen to his heartbeat, feeling the strength of his embrace. This was where she belonged. She would never doubt it again. When she finally pulled back to look up at him, he lifted her off the ground and kissed her.

She wasn't sure how long the kiss lasted. Five seconds, maybe ten. When they came up for air, Arden heard a sound behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Kohr and Ames pretending to wipe away tears.

"So beautiful," Kohr said with an equally fake sniffle.

Ames thumped his chest with his fist. "Really gets you right in here."

"All right, all right," Elias said as he set her back down and attempted to wave the boys away.

Kohr was grinning from ear to ear. "Don't stop on our account," he said.

Arden smiled at the two young Jedi. It was good to see how well Kohr was recovering – seemed it took more than a head wound to keep him down. Ames had been by his friend's side almost non-stop since Vjun.

"So what are your orders?" Arden asked them.

Kohr and Ames shared a mischievous look. "We're with you on the Daybreak," Ames said.

"Where we belong," Kohr added.

Arden nodded and looked up at Elias. "Now we just need our fearless captain to round out the crew."

Elias's smiled faded a little, and he reached up to run a hand over the back of his head. "Ben's not coming with us this time."

"What?"

"Why not?"

The speakers boomed again, drowning out any more questions from Kohr and Ames.

"All flight crews, report."

Elias sighed. "That's us. Come on."

"But who's gonna fly this thing?" Kohr asked.

"Me and you."

For a few seconds, Kohr stared at Elias like he'd suddenly sprouted wings. Then a wide, victorious grin spread slowly across his face. "Now that's more like it."

Both boys began to chatter back and forth excitedly as they picked up the case of detonators Arden had set down, and carried it up the ramp to the Daybreak, all while Elias warned them to please not blow up the ship. She was distracted by the sound of footsteps behind her, and she turned to see who it was.

One of the Jedi Knights – the council member Jysella Horn, if she was remembering right – led a group of about a dozen soldiers. She stopped next to the Daybreak and nodded at Arden before turning to Elias. "I brought some volunteers," she said, sweeping a hand to indicate the soldiers. She offered a smile, but there was a hard set to it that reminded Arden of the dangers they'd soon be facing.

Elias surveyed the strike team. "Good. We're going to need everyone we can get."

Jysella nodded in agreement. "Is your crew ready?"

Elias put his hands on his hips and lowered his head to hide a small smile. "We're still waiting on one more, actually."

Arden looked over at the assembled crew and strike team. "Who?"

Her question was met with an eager stream of warbling beeps, followed by an indignant wail. The strike team parted down the middle, and Ben Skywalker's faithful astromech droid rolled up between them.

"There he is," Elias said with a grin. "Now we're all set."

Next to him, the hard line of Jysella's mouth softened just a little. "The most invaluable member of any fighting force." She reached out a hand to brush across the droid's dome. "You ready to go, little guy?"

Artoo rocked side-to-side on his legs, chirping as rapidly as an overly excited monkey-lizard. Jysella looked up at Elias and Arden for clarification. Elias glanced over at Arden and shrugged before turning back to the older Jedi. "Pretty sure that means 'yes'."

As the strike team boarded the ship and got settled, Arden went to the cockpit with Elias, where Kohr was already in the pilot's seat, running through the pre-flight check. All around them, ships' engines started to hum to life, the pulse of their energy beating a rhythm against her senses, like that of gentle, rolling waves. She wondered, briefly, if it was anything like what Elias felt when he reached into the Force and connected with the energy of the universe. She wasn't really sure why, but she hoped it was.

After about ten minutes, they received their clearance, and the Daybreak lifted off the hangar floor. Arden and Ames sat behind Elias and Kohr, watching the painted white durasteel of the Mon Cal cruiser give way to the deep black of space. Every ship in the fleet was turning away from Troxar, lining up to make the jump into hyperspace.

"All groups," Syal Antilles said over the comm, "assume attack coordinates, and prepare to make the jump on my mark."

It seemed as though everyone in the Daybreak – no, in the entire fleet – took a collective breath. Through the viewport, Arden watched the stars stretch and bend around them as they entered hyperspace.

"No turning back now," Elias murmured. He looked back at Arden, and she reached out to take his hand in hers.

The trip to Bakura wasn't long, and as soon as they came out of hyperspace, Arden saw why the Bakurans had been so desperate for help. The Sith fleet had completely encircled the planet; everywhere she looked, she saw their warships. The biggest ones – the massive, black Star Destroyers – were so numerous they blocked out much of the light from the planet's surface. It was more like a swarm than a fleet. A powerful, angry swarm waiting to consume anyone who came too close.

"All wings report in," one of the squadron leaders ordered.

The leaders of each squadron sounded off in turn. When it came time for Blue Squadron – their squadron – a familiar voice answered. "Blue Leader," Myri Antilles said, in as serious a tone as Arden had ever heard her use, "standing by." If the sight of the Sith fleet didn't bring home the enormity of what they were facing, hearing the gravity in Myri's voice would.

Elias looked over his shoulder at her. "Ready?"

Arden stood and glanced over at Ames. Then she leaned forward to place a kiss on Elias's cheek. "Don't fly too crazy," she said.

Kohr turned in his seat and grinned up at her. "No promises."

Ames punched his friend in the shoulder, and then Arden followed him from the cockpit as they made their way to the ship's laser cannons. Arden climbed up to take the dorsal cannon, while Ames slid down the ladder to the ventral guns.

"This is it," Arden murmured, flexing her fingers against the turret controls as her targeting computer came online.

"Squadron leaders," their commander said with cool, fighter pilot determination, "you are clear to engage." There was a momentary pause where the line stayed open. Arden thought she heard an intake of breath.

"May the Force be with us."

.

.

"My lord, Rebel ships have entered our sector."

Darth Dominius turned his head just enough to acknowledge Captain Bateer with a nod. "Ready your fighters. Every last ship is to be deployed."

The Zeltron captain bowed at the waist. "As you wish, my lord."

When he had gone, Dominius looked over at the two Sith Lords who had joined him on the bridge. Lord Satrus he knew from their shared youth on Korriban. He was human and didn't speak much – by choice, not for lack of intelligence or opinion – and he handled a lightsaber better than just about anyone living. If the path of the Sith had allowed for friendship, then Satrus might have been the closest thing Dominius had to a friend. As it was, he considered the man to be a formidable ally.

His companion was a tall, crimson-skinned, Lethan Twi'lek woman named Darth Incendi. Dominius hadn't seen her in many years; she had spent most of the last decade on the front lines of the war, embroiled in the Inner Rim sieges. He didn't know her well, but he'd heard she was utterly vicious in combat. When he looked into her eyes, he saw a fire burning there that could never be quenched. He could certainly appreciate being sent such a ruthless and single-minded ally to aid him in the Jedi Hunt.

Dominius smiled. "My friends, it is time for us to end the plague of the Jedi once and for all."

Lady Incendi let out a deep, delighted growl. "What would you have us do, Lord Dominius?"

"There is a group of Jedi on the planet below that needs eradicating. We will use them to draw in the other Jedi, then we will wipe them all out."

"Sounds like fun," Lord Satrus said in a tone that might have been gentle but for the malice underneath.

"Excellent." Dominius gestured toward the walkway that spanned the length of the bridge. "Shall we?"

His new companions followed him as he led them from the bridge to one of the troop transport hangars. Once there, they were met by a commander in full black body armor and three new Lords fresh from Korriban. The commander snapped a quick salute.

"The walkers and troops are loaded and await your command, my lord."

"Very good, Commander." Dominius craned his neck to inspect the heavily modified AT-AT towering directly over them. Then he looked over his shoulder at Satrus and Incendi. "My friends, I believe this is our ride."

.

.

The first wave of Rebel starships crashed against a wall of Sith fighters. There had to be at least five enemy ships for every Rebel pilot. Tahiri might not have minded those odds if there wasn't so much at stake.

The Happy Ho'Din shuddered as a laser blast glanced off its shields. Ulin made a quick course correction and winced as several warning lights began to flash. "Easy there, sweetheart," he said under his breath.

Tahiri shook her head and braced herself against the control panel. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. There were still a lot of enemy ships between them and Bakura, and Ulin wasn't exactly known for his piloting skills.

As if sensing her thoughts, Ulin looked at her sidelong and grinned. "Don't count me out yet, Master Jedi."

Tahiri laughed as another laser narrowly missed them. "Wouldn't dream of it. But let's see if I can't clear the way a little." She closed her eyes, and the sounds around her began to fade. The creaking of the ship, the hum of the shield generator straining to keep up, Ulin's one-sided conversation with the Ho'Din… it all dulled until the only thing she heard was white noise, soft and unobtrusive. Then she raised her right hand toward the viewport and concentrated on the space in front of the ship.

In her mind's eye she saw the incoming laser blasts bend to avoid the Ho'Din. She twisted her wrist, splaying her fingers as she did so. In response, the Sith fighters that attempted to cut across their path were sent spiraling out of control. She sensed Ulin's surprise, but he continued to fly toward Bakura.

The enemy was really starting to notice them now. Instead of a fighter here and there, Tahiri sensed them coming in groups of three and in quick succession. She gritted her teeth, trying to hold the barrier she'd created with the Force. Another trio of fighters was circling around them to catch them from behind. She twisted her body to the side and raised her left hand toward the rear of Ulin's ship. She wouldn't be able to hold this much longer. They had to get through.

Luminous beings, she reminded herself.

She allowed her awareness to expand, encompassing not just the space around the Ho'Din, but the space all around Bakura. Warships and corvettes and fighters filled with allies and enemies alike, and though her sense of them was as different as day and night, they all shone in the Force. She wondered, briefly, if that was part of some greater truth; she knew, in fact, that it was. She'd known a man once who put his heart and soul into that truth, who believed all was one in the Force, that all life was connected and had worth simply by virtue of its existence. That belief had helped end a war and broker peace.

Look what's become of us, Jacen, she whispered into the vastness of the Force, as life was snuffed out around her in flames, in silence. Is this really what you wanted?

She shook her head, knowing he would never hear her, and that even if he did, he wouldn't answer. Beside her, she felt the tension in Ulin's body as he leaned forward over the controls, narrowly dodging another laser blast.

The starfighters behind them exploded, and Tahiri opened her eyes in time to see the familiar black hull of the Daybreak shooting past them on their left. She dropped her hands and opened the comm channel. "Nice of you to drop by, Blue Five."

"Couldn't let you have all the fun, Blue Two," Elias shot back.

Tahiri exchanged a quick look with Ulin. "You remember your orders, Elias?"

There was a moment's hesitation before Elias responded. When he did, the mock bravado was gone. "Yes, Master."

Tahiri stared ahead at the planet looming ever larger in the viewport. "We'll be fine without you. Your mission is just as important." She'd grappled with this decision – who to send, whether to go with them. But she was needed down there, on the planet's surface, so she had to trust that Elias and his crew would be enough.

"You can do this, kiddo," she said, reaching into the still place that had once bonded them, that still bonded them. "The Force will be with you."

"Always, Master." His ship's engines flared as the Daybreak peeled away, turning against the tide of the battle.

"He'll be okay," Ulin said without looking at her. "He's strong. Gets that from his teacher."

Tahiri put a hand on the slicer's shoulder. "You're not getting all sentimental on me, are you, old man?"

He reached up and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Never," he replied, holding on for a few seconds before letting go. Maybe she would have to treat him to dinner sometime, if they made it out of this alive.

Now who's getting sentimental? she chided herself.

Ulin angled the Ho'Din toward the planet's surface and entered its atmosphere with more turbulence than Tahiri would have liked. There was no time to worry about it, though. In a few minutes they would be on the ground, trying to lead a rescue mission in the middle of a battle. To say nothing of the Sith Lords who would no doubt be hunting for the Jedi enclave at the same time.

There were so many ways for this plan to go horribly wrong. She tried to push the thought of them from her mind.

"Blue Group, this is Blue Leader. Make for the rendezvous point."

The other members of her squadron – a ragtag bunch of ships if ever there was one – began to converge on the rendezvous point. It was a less-trafficked spaceport on the southern side of Salis D'aar, Bakura's capital city. Not the safest option but certainly more practical if they were going to find their friends before the Sith did.

Ulin landed the Ho'Din outside one of the docking bays. Tahiri patted the lightsaber at her hip and looked over at the slicer.

"Ready for this?" she asked.

He flashed a wry smile as he held up his datapad and his bag of tech. "You bet."

They exited the ship, and Tahiri saw the other members of Blue Squadron doing the same. Valin and Myri jogged toward her, leading a squad of Rebel soldiers and a few older Jedi apprentices.

"Is this everyone?" Tahiri asked.

"Looks like it," Myri said, adjusting her cap so that it was just slightly askew. She pulled her blaster out and held it up to her shoulder. "Now let's go liberate some Jedi."

The younger members of the group cheered, but Tahiri was distracted by the roar of ships' engines. She looked up as a trio of X-wings made a pass overhead. The apprentices and soldiers cheered again, waving at the fighters as they chased down a pair of enemy scout ships. In the distance, she saw one of the Sith's largest landing craft setting down, and she sensed a well of darkness within, eager and focused. Tahiri pressed her lips in a thin line and laid her hand across the hilt of her lightsaber. For better or for worse, they were coming to the end of their struggle.

.

.

From the time she left Zonama Sekot until the moment she stepped into the turbolift, Allana had run through at least a dozen possible scenarios, trying to imagine what it would be like to see her father again. To say that she was surprised when the lift door opened on a room that looked like it belonged on Zonama Sekot or one of the old Yuuzhan Vong worldships, rather than in a modern Sith Temple, would have been an understatement.

The air here was oppressively humid, a product of the vegetation that covered nearly every surface of the room. A carpet of soft grass stretched before her, climbing what looked to have been a set of stairs; it terminated in a mass of yorik coral that had been shaped to resemble a throne. There was no gentle Zonaman breeze to provide relief, and already she felt her clothes sticking to her skin. It was particularly noticeable where Festus held onto her.

If she was startled by the strange, dimly-lit throne room, then the Sith Lords on either side of her were completely stunned. Festus in particular seemed to have an almost visceral reaction to the room, or maybe to his dear master, who she realized was standing at the massive window just beyond the throne, completely devoid of the vonduun crab armor he was famous for as he gazed out at the twilit cityscape. Festus tightened his hand around her arm in a motion that seemed more reflexive than deliberate, and she found herself wondering what exactly had set him on edge.

Darth Krayt turned away from the dusk-colored expanse of sky, and Jacen Solo's eyes landed on her. There was nothing in his face that revealed any kind of happiness or satisfaction, but through the Force she felt him crackle with anticipation. The warmth she sensed earlier was still there, and even with Festus holding onto her and Ferrus towering over her, she breathed easier.

"Well done, my apprentices," her father said, his voice still a bit deeper than she remembered. "Leave us. Lady Varice has your next assignment."

Ferrus bowed his head and began to turn away, but Festus didn't move. Allana's momentary sense of relief began to evaporate.

Her father's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Is there something wrong, Lord Festus?"

The hand that held her released suddenly, and Festus took a quick step backward. "No, my lord."

The Sith Master strode over to the top of the staircase, face impassive as he stared down at them. "You are startled by my appearance." It wasn't a question.

"No, my lord." For once, Festus sounded every bit the eighteen-year-old boy that he was. Allana found the fear in his voice a lot less satisfying than she would have thought.

Her father shook his head, and she was struck by how much he reminded her of Ben in that moment, dealing with a difficult teenager. "Don't lie to me, Festus. You know I can always tell."

She risked a glance back at Festus, who had bowed his head. "Yes, my master."

"Kneel."

He obeyed quickly, and as he did, Allana saw his eyes dart over to the perimeter of the room. That was when she noticed a grotesque organism suspended from the ceiling, its many branchlike appendages spread wide as if awaiting an embrace.

Her father descended the stairs, stopping three steps from the bottom. "I had thought you would be pleased to see me again, after all these years; but I sense your unease, my young apprentice. Are you upset that I'm not who you thought I was?" He raised a hand toward Festus. "Shall I sort through your mind and find out?"

Allana stood frozen in place, watching the scene unfold. Even though she knew that she wasn't in imminent danger, she felt distinctly that Festus was on the knife's edge of oblivion. His eyes rose to meet her father's, and in them she saw dread and – to her surprise – shame. Then the air around her went cold and still, and her father slowly lowered his outstretched hand.

"Festus," he said, his voice so quiet. "Tell me you didn't."

The young Sith Lord started to shake his head. "Master—"

"I could have forgiven you anything else. You know that, don't you? Anything else."

Festus's response was a whisper. "I didn't know."

"Yes, you did." Her father's presence seemed to expand around them, a frigid wave of power, a glacier melting from within as old rage began to burn. "Just because you thought I was dead, that didn't make her any less my daughter. I thought you were loyal to me?"

"I am."

"You remember what I saved you from, Festus. Before I ever wore Krayt's armor, I spared you, and this is how you repay me? By attempting to kill my child?"

Allana thought of what she'd said to Festus on the shuttle, that he might regret not dying on Vjun. She'd only said it to get him to leave her alone. She hadn't considered that her father might actually kill him.

Roan's words returned to her, small and scared: "He hurts everyone else."

Festus looked up, and Allana saw tears gathering in his eyes. "I'm your servant," he said, soft and trembling. "I didn't— I would never betray you. You gave me life – you gave me purpose."

Her father's face was impassive as he studied his kneeling apprentice. "Yes, and you have fulfilled that purpose, by returning my daughter to me. As I knew you would."

She could see Festus was still struggling to grasp the meaning of those words when his brother stepped forward. "My lord," Ferrus said quickly, looking uncertain whether he should kneel as well, "we live only to serve you."

She wasn't sure why, but she was almost glad to see Ferrus defend his twin. Her thoughts flitted briefly to Davin and Dolan, safe on Zonama Sekot. What would her father do if he knew where to find them, the only children of his own twin? She went cold thinking of it.

"Ah, Lord Ferrus." Her father took another step down, head turning slightly to acknowledge the taller boy. "Finally showing some initiative. Even if it is too little too late. Now, step back, or share your brother's fate."

Ferrus didn't move for a moment, until Allana noticed Festus lower his eyes and give a barely perceptible head shake. Then Ferrus stepped backward, head bowed and fists clenched tight at his sides. Allana could feel him burning hot in the Force, so hot it was searing. Between that and the humidity and her inability to sense most of the organic life around her, and then the fear that assaulted her senses in its place… she felt herself trapped in the most surreal of nightmares, casting about for anything that might snap them all out of it.

Her father lifted his hand toward Festus once more, and she could feel the power he summoned to him, the crushing weight of it channeling through his fingertips as he took hold of his apprentice. "I am sorry, my little shadowmoth," he said softly, a bit sadly. "You became what I needed you to be. I wish it could have been otherwise. I suppose it's only right that I should be the one to end your suffering."

Allana's heart raced as she watched her father's outstretched hand. She hadn't been there to prevent his fall to the dark side – that was why she'd reached for Anakin on Vjun, pleading with him to spare a Sith Lord's life. She hadn't been able to sit by and watch him make the same mistakes, not when she could do something about it.

Now there was no fall to prevent, no scales to tip one way or the other. Her father had already descended so deep into the pit, one more murder would scarcely mean a thing. It certainly wouldn't save his soul if she stopped him from carrying it out.

She could say nothing. In reality, it probably didn't make a difference what she did. If her father wanted to kill someone, he would do it regardless of her interference.

A Jedi – her grandmother had told her once, long ago – uses the Force for knowledge and defense.

Defense. Not just defense of the Order and its allies, or the people she loved, or the ones deemed worthy, but of all life.

She looked down at Festus, then, still kneeling on the coral-crusted ground, and she no longer saw the twisted Sith Lord who hated her very existence. Instead, she saw a boy not much older than she was, a boy who'd been stolen away and robbed of whatever future he might have had, and was it really right for him to die now just for doing exactly what he'd been trained to do? What he'd been raised to do? She didn't think she could forgive Festus for trying to kill her, but she also wasn't ready to watch her father murder him.

She stepped between Festus and her father, and then she said a word she hadn't spoken aloud in many years – the only word she could think of that might stop Jacen Solo dead in his tracks:

"Daddy."

Her father's brown eyes went wide, and his hand lowered a fraction. Allana took a deep breath.

"You got what you wanted," she said gently. "I'm here. Let him go."

The whole room was so quiet, she could have sworn she heard every breath between them. Even the background noises – the temple's air filtration systems, the speeder traffic outside, the wet, gasping, hissing sounds of whatever Yuuzhan Vong organisms her father had hidden in the shadows – seemed to silence.

"He would have killed you," her father murmured, breaking that silence.

Her next breath felt impossibly heavy. "I know."

"Do you know? Do you understand what you'd be allowing to live?"

"Yes," she said, "and I'm still asking you to spare him."

The Master of the Sith lowered his hand, eyes cold as he glared down at Festus. "Leave us," he growled.

Allana risked a glance over her shoulder and saw Festus staring not at her father, but at her, eyes narrowed in fury and confusion and something else she couldn't quite place. His brother grabbed him under one shoulder and yanked him to his feet, muttering indecipherably under his breath as he pulled Festus toward the turbolift.

His eyes never left hers, and there was an intensity in that stare that made her wonder, briefly, if she hadn't just made a huge mistake. She decided it didn't matter now. She'd made her choice, and she knew in her heart it was the right one.

When the turbolift doors closed and she was finally alone with her father, Allana turned to face him. What she wasn't prepared for, though, was the smirk on his lips.

"There's no one else who could stand in my way like that," he said quietly, with a hint of amusement. But Allana wasn't ready to play either of their actions off as some kind of joke.

"I guess there had to be some benefit to being your daughter," she replied, not quite managing the hard edge she was trying for.

Her father let out a small laugh, and the sound of it made her wonder how long it had been since he'd uttered such a noise. "You don't know how long I've waited for this day," he said with a sigh.

She shook her head, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor, and maybe a little thrown by the fact that he was standing right in front of her, almost close enough to touch. "I thought you were dead," she whispered.

He tilted his head to the side, sobering just a little. "I know."

"This whole time… you've been alive this whole time, and you never…" She didn't want to finish that thought; it felt wrong to even think it, to admit that even up until his supposed death, she'd wanted him to come back for her.

He crossed the divide between them and took her face in his hands, the expression on his own shifting back and forth between exhaustion and delirious joy. "You have been in my thoughts every day for the last fifteen years." She caught fragments of thought tumbling out of him – my child, my baby, my daughter, my light – but she didn't know if they'd broken past his carefully constructed walls or if he was feeding them to her purpose.

His hands were warm against her cheeks; she wasn't sure why she'd thought they would be otherwise. She considered pulling away. Wasn't this what she'd wanted? Another chance to be in his arms, to love him and be loved by him, to be a family?

"Everything I've done, I've done for you," he said, his thumbs brushing gently across her cheeks.

She realized then that her face was damp with tears, that something was cracked and aching inside of her, that whatever she'd expected to find here, it wasn't this. She was supposed to fight for him, win him over to her side with the strength of her love and her belief, thaw the frozen reaches of his heart by reminding him of who he used to be. It seemed like utter nonsense now – a child's fantasy she should have been too hardened to hold onto, but she did anyway. He hadn't forgotten anything; she could see that now. He loved her just as much as he always had, maybe more. And still. In spite of that love – because of that love – he had done all of this.

He wasn't tricked, nor had he stumbled blindly into the darkness.

He chose it.

She shook her head, staring straight into his eyes as he held onto her. "How can you think I would want to hear that?" Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as the words tumbled out. "Why would you tell me… am I supposed to be grateful? Am I supposed to be okay with what you've done?"

His grip on her tightened – not to hurt, but to hold her closer. "No," he said gently, a sad smile on his lips. "If you were, you wouldn't be my daughter. My Allana."

There was a part of her that still wanted to fling her arms around him and feel the strength and safety she'd yearned for all her life. The other part told her to pull away, and she did. He didn't try to stop her.

Free of his grasp, Allana took two steps back. "What do you expect me to say?"

He held his hands out at his sides and exhaled slowly. "Whatever you want to say."

"That's not an answer."

"It is. It's just not the one you want to hear."

"I don't know what I want to hear. I don't even know what I want to say!"

"Do you want to hear that I'm sorry? That I wish I could take it all back? That I love you more than my own life?" He advanced toward her, hands outstretched. "Even if I say all those things, even if I mean them, even if you believe me… does it matter?"

"Of course it matters."

"Does it? Does it change anything that's happened?" He swept one hand toward the massive window, as if to encompass all of Coruscant, or maybe even the whole galaxy. "Does it change our reality?"

His words closed in around her, a trap waiting to be sprung. "It changes my reality," she said, small and pathetic.

"You mean it makes you feel better. It makes me more palatable as a father if I'm conflicted. But that doesn't have anything to do with my actions. The universe doesn't care if I have regrets." He stepped within arm's reach and brought a hand up to her chin, holding it gently. "You thought you could redeem me. You have no idea how much I love you for that. But your efforts are in vain. There was never any outcome other than this."

Tears continued to prick at her eyes. "I can't accept that."

"It doesn't matter whether you can accept it. I am sorry, and I do wish all this suffering could have been avoided. But I love you, more than my own life. More than any life. So I made a choice."

"You're saying this is my fault?"

"No, Allana, the fault is mine. Mine alone." He brushed a few loose hairs from her forehead. "You are perfect. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who wasn't strong enough."

Allana shut her eyes to block out the tenderness in his gaze. "I should never have been born."

Pain and anger stabbed through the Force. Once again, he cradled her face with both hands, his fingers hard as durasteel. "Never say that. Not ever."

"You ended up replacing me though, didn't you?" She was casting about now for something, anything, to hurt him with, to wound him as he had wounded her. It didn't matter that she didn't mean it, that she would never give Roan back for the world.

Her father gave her a disturbingly paternal look. "Allana. You know that's not what happened. And while I admire your attempt at manipulation, it's really not your strength."

She bristled at that and pulled away again. "How would you even know?"

"Because we are connected in a way that defies time or distance." He reached out with one hand, gesturing back and forth between them. "Our bond is written in the fabric of the Force and in the blood we share. I know you because you're mine, as you've always been, and always will be."

Allana shook her head. "You say you love me so much, but what about my mother? Was she so easily forgotten?"

"No," he said after a moment that seemed to stretch on and on. "No, It wasn't easy in the slightest. I loved your mother. I still love her, even though she betrayed me. Even though she kept you from me. Roan's mother was the least depraved of Krayt's followers and the closest thing I had to a friend on Korriban. We used each other to survive, for a time. But love her, like I loved Tenel Ka? Never."

"Do you love Roan?"

For the first time, she saw what looked like genuine hurt in his expression. "Yes."

"Then why would you allow him to grow up surrounded by evil? He's terrified to come back. He hates it here. How can you justify that?"

"It's not the life I would have chosen for him, I'll admit. But I have shielded him from the worst of this world. He may hate it, but he has stayed good when he could have turned out so much worse. You need only look at Lord Festus to see the difference."

She shook her head again, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Stop it. He's not lord of anything. Your Sith abducted him and twisted him—"

"They weren't mine—"

"You're saying you're not responsible for how he turned out?"

Her father went very still, and his face was suddenly a dark mirror, reflecting nothing, revealing nothing. "I never said that."

He turned away from her for a moment, and she watched his shoulders rise and fall as he took a slow, deep breath. Then he turned to face her once more, his expression still neutral. "I'm very much to blame. I could have taken Festus and Ferrus and all of those other children far away from there, but I didn't. I chose to stay."

"Why?" she found herself asking.

Her father shrugged. "Many reasons, I suppose. Because I'd lost everything, and I had nowhere better to go. Because I was curious about the mysterious allies who'd betrayed me." He paused for a moment. "Because in the wake of my defeat, I had a vision of a pair of twins – disciples of the Sith – who would lead me back to you."

She tried to speak, then, but nothing came out. Her father continued.

"When I finally came across them and realized they'd been Jedi children, I thought they'd know a location where I could find you, but they didn't. At first, I was frustrated; but I learned a long time ago that visions don't always happen the way you think they will, and I knew I had to be patient. So I kept them alive, and I kept them close."

Allana realized she had her hands clamped over her mouth. She lowered them slowly. "Great," she whispered, hardly able to speak past the lump in her throat. "One more sin I'm responsible for." She reached up to scrub away the tears that had started to fill her eyes. "You're never turning back, are you?"

"No," he said simply, "I'm not."

She squeezed her eyes shut and raised her chin, calling upon every ounce of strength she possessed, even though she knew how ridiculous her request would sound. "I want to go home," she said quietly.

The air grew still around him. "That's not possible."

Allana opened her eyes, staring up at him as he stepped closer to her. "I can't stay here. Not after everything—"

"You misunderstand," her father interrupted. "You're not leaving this chamber."

And over his shoulder, she saw something move – the organism she'd glimpsed earlier, suspended from the ceiling, the one she'd caught Festus looking at as he kneeled. Its appendages flexed, opening wider; and suddenly she knew exactly what it was, and every instinct screamed at her to run.

Her father moved before she could react, wrapping his hands around her arms and pulling her toward him in one swift, powerful motion. He faced the organism and began to carry her in that direction.

"Daddy, no—"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, holding her flush against him as he dragged her toward the organism. "I can't let you go again."

"No, please, don't put me in there—" She struggled uselessly against his durasteel grip, panic beating furiously in her chest. "—Daddy, please—"

He forced her away from him, pressing her back up against the living rack; and the Embrace of Pain began to wind its branch-grips around her legs, her arms, her waist, her neck…

He held her face in his hands, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. "This is the only way," he murmured, thumbs brushing across her cheeks to catch her own tears. "I need you to be safe. I need you to understand why I did this."

Allana felt a great sob sticking in her throat, eight years of loneliness and sadness and pain coalescing in one moment of violent betrayal.

"I'm scared," she cried out, ragged and weak, choking on her tears. "Daddy, please."

He was crying openly now as he shook his head. "It won't hurt much, I promise. I promise." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Go to sleep now, little one."

He placed a thumb on the center of her forehead, the rest of his fingers cradling the side of her face, and then all she knew was white.

.

.

Jacen Solo let out a heavy sigh as he wiped tears from his face. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to feel much of anything – it was necessary, in order to do what needed done – and this sudden outpouring of emotion was proving to be much more draining that he'd expected.

He gazed at his daughter – his daughter – and lifted a hand to stroke her hair, her cheek. She was nearly grown, but he could still see the little girl she'd once been. The same little girl who had beamed with joy when he finally told her he was her father, who had climbed into his lap and held onto him as if she never wanted to let go. Who had trusted him when no one else did.

She would hate him for this, he knew that. She had every right to. But he would take no chances, not when he was so close to the end. He was never letting her go again.

A spasm coursed through her, and several strands of copper-colored hair fell across her face as her head lolled to the side. He reached out to tuck them behind her ear, then he leaned in to kiss her forehead again.

"I will fix this," he whispered, though she was unlikely to hear him.

An electronic tone from the wall-mounted comm – one of the few things in the room not overgrown by Yuuzhan Vong biots – signaled an incoming message.

"My master," Lady Varice said. "The Jedi's starfighter has entered the system. We're preparing to engage."

Master of the Sith… Yun-Yammka, the Slayer, and Yun-Shuno, the Pardoner… warrior and philosopher… light of the Jedi, eldest son, last hope, brother, heretic, savior, traitor… he'd filled so many roles for so many years, even after deciding not to tie himself down to anyone else's perception of who he ought to be. But he was good at playing those roles, he'd found. And they'd all been necessary in their own way.

Darth Krayt would have made things as difficult as possible for the Chosen One, the man destined to become Lord Vader. Darth Krayt would have forced Anakin Skywalker to prove himself over and over again. But right now, Jacen Solo was tired, and his daughter was in pain, and he'd waited long enough for this battle.

"Call off your forces," he ordered. "Let the Jedi come."

There was a very long pause. "Let him come, my lord? Unimpeded?"

Jacen inhaled deep, unable to look away from his precious child. To think that he'd nearly lost her on Vjun, without even realizing it. That knowledge gnawed at him still.

He turned slowly away from Allana to face the comm. "Tell Lord Festus and Lord Ferrus that their orders are to guard the tower at any cost. Everyone else, stand aside. Do not engage the Jedi."

Another long pause, though this one held less hesitance and more dark amusement. "As you wish, my master."

.