Chapter 5

Boundary between Known and Unknown Space, aboard GFFA Star Destroyer, Han Solo

(62 ABY)

"Lt. Durron."

Zeth Durron winced at the sound of the clipped, accented voice of his newest commander. He simply laid the wrench down on top of the other tools that he had been using and wiped his hands on a rag that he floated to his hand. He then turned to step over the scattered array of various tools as she came around the nose of the Phantom-X. Zeth decided to stand his ground there in the center of what most would have called a mess and let the Chiss ice storm come to him.

Zeth straightened some but still managed to slouch just enough not to be completely military. Then he gave his commander a half-hearted salute. As he lowered his hand, he grinned just enough to not be military serious. Oh, how he loved aggravating her. He could feel the tension mount in her as she watched him. He knew his words would be enough to send her over the edge, so, in a slow, easy voice he said, "Commander Fel."

She glared at him and Zeth really relished the difficulty she was having at controlling her anger. He really had no idea why she disliked him so. But he did know it was not a new feeling and suspected it was mostly out of jealousy. She was considered the best pilot in the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force, while he was considered one of the best in the GFFA. He often worked with Rogue Squadron even though he wasn't officially part of the military. He loved to fly, a gift he received from too many relatives to count.

He had first met the daughter of one of his mother's old boyfriends when they were children at the wedding of her aunt Wynessa Fel to Jayme Darklighter, who had met at the weddings of the Antilles girls and then met up again when Jayme was named Ambassador to Csilla. Zeth and Cherith had only met a few other times, most recently being at Syal Antilles-Barrett's inauguration. That was where he first made this particular mistake and, since she had been placed in command of the Rogues nearly a month ago, he had discovered it still had the same affect.

She glared at him, "Lieutenant, you will address me by my entire name."

Zeth grinned and bowed his head to hide it, but not before he was sure she caught a glimpse of the grin, then in mock abashment he replied, "My apologies, Commander Nuruodo-Fel. What may I do for you?"

She looked around at the tools scattered over the floor and when she turned her blue-violet eyes back to meet his brown flecked green, she nearly seethed, "Lt. Durron, I was supposed to have your report on the attack uploaded to my datapad an hour ago."

Zeth desperately tried not to snicker. Although, he enjoyed flying with the Rogues, he hated the military and its countless, pointless procedures. He nearly laughed in his father's face when he told Zeth he would be assuming the rank of lieutenant for the remainder of his assignment with the famous squadron his great-uncle began and his mother eventually flew with. In fact, he didn't know whether to be flattered or offended.

"Ah, that." Zeth moved away from the commander to retrieve another tool from the floor and was very pleased with himself when he didn't need to search for it among what looked like a mess. Stepping back to the open panel on the underside of the fuselage of the X-wing, he went on to say, "Well, since you already know what happened," he paused to evaluate the delicate connectors before applying the specialized tool to the coolant line. Finally, he looked over at her and continued, "why don't you write the report. I decided that my ability to participate in the next dogfight slightly more important than your useless requirement for me to rehash events that you are already fully aware of." He then called up to the astromech that was in its slot behind the canopy, "Okay, Sparks, open up that line. But slowly. I don't want to blow the new valve."

"Lieutenant!" she nearly screamed and stared at him incredulously. Obviously, she was unaccustomed to not having her subordinates jump at her every command and she really had no idea of what to do. Zeth had to fight to keep the snicker from his expression as he continued to watch the pressure gauge on the valve he had just replaced on the coolant line. "Lt. Durron," she said more calmly, "and I say that with a great deal of distaste, you are here by ordered to discontinue—"

"Sparks, that's enough!" he yelled to the R-9 unit as the valve failed to open and the coolant pressure rose to dangerous levels, threatening to blow the new valve he had just spent the past two hours replacing. "Kriff!"

"Lieutenant!" this time she did yell. "You will discontinue this at once!" Then she called out to a technician who was working in the cockpit of an X-wing not far from Zeth's and who had been covertly watching and listening to the exchange with amused interest. "Technician, please come down here."

The older human male obeyed, albeit slowly, as he climbed down from the X-wing and weaved his way to stand before the lithe commander. He then glanced at Zeth but quickly turned his attention back to her and saluted as he went to ridged attention with arms at his sides and shoulders squared. Zeth almost snorted at the over-doing of it. Then the tech announced in perfect military fashion, "Yes, Sir?"

"Technician," she glanced at his name tag, " Metz, you will take over the repairs on Lt. Durron's fighter as soon as you are finished with that one." She pointed to the fighter Metz had been working on. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir." Metz annunciated again in perfect military fashion. However, he made no motion to move, but as she turned back to Zeth he did give up the precise posture for one more natural for the twenty year veteran of Rogue Squadron. Zeth could feel the profound amusement coming from the tech. Metz knew the show was far from over.

Zeth looked over at him and said as threateningly as he could muster, " Metz, you will promptly forget that order." Metz grinned and nodded once. Then Zeth turned his full attention to Cherith. He had to admit she was actually rather beautiful with the high flush of out-right rage coloring her cheeks a deep rosy hue and her violet eyes burning with frustration. Zeth swallowed his thoughts and made a slashing motion with his pointer finger, "No one touches my ship but me, Commander," he finished by jabbing his thumb at his chest, just for emphasis.

"That, Lieutenant, is insubordination," she seethed, "I will have your—"

Zeth's deep and sardonic laugh cut her off and he finished her statement, "My rank." He shook his head and grinned lopsidedly and then ran his hand through his unruly, black, too-long curls. "Take it. I didn't ask for or want a fancy rank. It was the uppity-ups who decided that." He reached up to the rank insignia on the left side of his flight suit and grabbed it as if he were going to rip it off. "We both know why I'm here and what I am."

Frustrated beyond belief, Cherith held out her hand, which to her credit was not trembling; although, Zeth could feel her fighting for control of her emotions. "Stop! Fine, Knight Durron."

She lowered her hand and went on to say, never wavering her hard stare from his, "You may repair your ship. If that is indeed what you are attempting to do." She glanced around at the battle scarred Phantom-X and the strewn tools with disdain. But she quickly brought her attention back to him, and in a voice dripping with venom, "However, you will have that report uploaded into my computer within sixty standard minutes and not a second past, or I will seek disciplinary actions. You may be here on a mission for the Jedi, but I will not tolerate any more such demonstrations as this. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Lieutenant?"

Zeth stared at her, he had to admit this was probably the angriest he had ever seen her. He simply nodded once and said, "Yes, Sir."

With that she turned on her heel with military precision and marched off toward the closest hanger exit door. Zeth stepped over to stand beside Metz and both men watched her move away. Zeth grinned as he watched how her body moved and thought that the view from behind was just as good as the one from the front.

Metz gruff laugh brought Zeth's attention back to the tech. He shook his head and slapped Zeth on the shoulder, "Son, you never fail to entertain when it comes to Commander Ice Queen."

Zeth looked at the tech and said seriously, " Metz, you are making sure not to leave any of her name out there, aren't you? We wouldn't want to upset her now."

"Oh, I mean Commander Nuruodo-Ice Queen." Then they both laughed until their sides hurt. Metz managed to say finally, "I don't get it. Why the kriff is she so sensitive to that?"

Zeth shook his head as he let out the final chuckles and gasped for air. "I really don't know. I made that mistake three years ago when I saw her last. She corrected me then and I laughed at her and asking her what the big deal was. She was a Fel, after all. She proceeded to explain that I was incapable of understanding the Chiss." He shrugged and added, "When it comes to her, I don't think anyone, human or Chiss could understand."

Metz nodded his agreement then said, "Durron, my man, I never saw anyone get under someone's skin like you can get under hers. Keep it up. She needs to realize she is with the Rogues now and not with the up-tight, high-and-mighty Chiss."

After nodding his agreement, Zeth said, "Well, I have a valve to fix and a report to write."

Metz took his leave and began moving toward the X-wing he had been summoned from. Zeth stood there a moment looking back at the door where Cherith had exited. He could still feel her boiling emotions. Turning back to his ship he began working on the valve and idly wondered if Cherith Nuruodo-Fel was as beautiful flushed in the afterglow of passionate ecstasy as she was in the heat of out-right rage.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed to himself not believing he had just thought such a disturbing thought. As he attacked the coolant valve again he moaned, "Durron, you really need a woman." But the attraction to her exotic beauty was still there. He shook his head and thought, That woman is going to be the death of me yet.

X

She was pacing and she hated it. No one ever made Cherith as frustrated or as irrational as Zeth Durron managed to do, and over the most illogical of reasons. What did it matter if he did not refer to her by her complete name? After all, Cleven only went by Fel, but he also had a core name. She supposed that was the real issue. Most considered her to be more human than Chiss and the fact that she was named for her deceased human aunt only seemed to verify that assumption. By adding her Chiss Family name to Fel it made her feel like she was indeed Chiss. It made her feel like she belonged. But not really. Maybe that was what really irritated her. She liked humans.

And that brought her back to thinking about Jedi Knight Zeth Durron. She stopped in her pacing long enough to glance at the chrono on her desk. Ten minutes. If his report wasn't in her possession within the next ten minutes she was going to appeal to her co-lead Colonel Gabe Darklighter to have him removed. She really couldn't keep having him undermining her authority or his insubordination; it wasn't good for squad cohesiveness which was dangerous in a fight. Someone could get killed.

She knew Gabe would fight it. His father, Admiral Gavin Darklighter was, after all, close friends with Zeth's family and the Jedi in general. But she would appeal to his sense of loyalty to family if she had to. His eldest adopted brother was married to her aunt Wynessa and that should amount to something.

She had resumed her infernal pacing as her mind thought back to the past few weeks and to her run-ins with Zeth. She had to admit, that the very first time she had seen him again as an adult three years ago, she had been mildly attracted to him, at least, until he opened his mouth and she realized how arrogant he was. But there was still something about him that drew her to him—the way his green eyes lit up when he was tormenting her, his blasted good looks, especially when he smiled genuinely. She was shaking those disturbing thoughts from her mind just as her datapad beeped.

"Ktah!" She couldn't believe it when she keyed in the code that showed what was incoming. She looked in total disbelief as the incident report of the dogfight with what they believed were Dro'godda pirates came up on her screen. She glanced at the chrono—and as the last line came up showing the electronic signature of Lt. Zeth Durron, the last minute of the ten ticked off. "How did he do that?" she whispered to herself in Cheunh.

X

Boundary between Known and Unknown Space, aboard the old Victory-class Star Destroyer, Trepidation

The human stepped through the opened portal into the darkened command suite that doubled for her quarters. The only illumination was an eerie reddish glow from several special lamps scattered around the room. Two Defel guards blended in with the walls near the door. However, he knew she really didn't need them. No, she could take care of herself. He stared at the dark clad figure that was standing with her sculpted back toward him, her long flame-red hair lying in waves down her back. She was staring out the transparasteel wall. In the foreground was a bright cluster of three blue giants and several red and yellow dwarf stars. Near one of the dwarfs was the secret pirate base.

He was beginning to wonder if she knew he was there. But before he could discretely clear his throat, she finally spoke in her low, silky voice that normally he would have considered sexy. But instead it only made him shiver. "Have you ever heard the legend of Dro'godda, Foust?"

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and replied with a shaky voice, "Of course, Milady."

She then turned as elegantly as a Mon Cal water dancer and stared at her lieutenant. After a moment she let a smile grace her stunning features but it never seemed to reach her brilliant blue eyes, they remained cold as a winter day on Hoth. "Yes, everyone has heard of the star dragon that wonders through the galaxy feeding on the stars, causing death to entire solar systems and those beings living in them." She stepped down the three stairs into the receiving area of her quarters and moved past him, stopping at a drink dispenser. There she turned and continued, "But Dro'godda does not stop there. The dragon also recreates life by breathing out new and better stars."

He quickly nodded his agreement and watched as she poured a drink, thinking that he really could use one. His mouth was so dry that he was afraid to speak.

She walked over to a throne-like ornate chair and sat down; however, she never took her eyes from him. After a moment she asked, "Are they away, Captain?"

He bowed and breathed easier. He hadn't had any idea why he had been summoned to meet with the "Boss". "Yes, Milady. They should be arriving on Tatooine within a week."

She sipped the dark red liquid and smiled as she purred, "Good. Things are proceeding as I have foreseen them."

Feeling a little braver now that he knew why he was summoned, he nervously wiped his hands on his trousers at his thighs and said, "Milady, if I may be so candid…"

"Go on," her interest was piqued.

"Milady, if you know that they are Jedi, is it safe to allow them to make the pick-up? Wouldn't be better to kill them like we've always done with the other Intel pests?"

She puckered her lips, took another sip of the wine and looked at him, "You are brave, Foust. But foolish. I do not appreciate my decisions questioned."

Cold fear trickled through him and he began to sweat profusely. When am I ever going to learn to keep my mouth shut? He watched as she took another sip of the wine and then her normally blue eyes turned a golden yellow. Terror filled him and soon he felt the tightness at his throat. He grabbed at the invisible hands and soon was sputtering, trying to catch his breath. He fell to his knees and looked at her in pleading horror as blackness threatened to overtake him. Suddenly, the death grip released and he fell to the floor gasping for life giving breath.

He heard in his fog filled mind, "That was a warning."

He gasped and choked, "Y-yes, Mi-la-dy."

Then the Lady of the Sith, Erida, stood and stepped before him. She glared down at him menacingly as pure icy venom dripped from her words, "The next time you question my authority, Captain Foust, you will die."

Foust watched as the she moved back up to stand before the portal. Yes, he thought, she was the star dragon. He only hoped her form of new life was worth the risk to the one he already had.

X

Ossus

Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker awakened with a start. He glanced over to his wife who was still sleeping peacefully and he gently reached out with the Force to touch her. He was concerned for her. She had been slowly dieing for the past year and a half. It was as if the damage that was caused to her by the Yuuzhan Vong disease she had been infected with over thirty years ago had resurfaced. She did not have the Coomb spores within her any longer but the damage they did could only be held off by Mara's will to live, her love of life and the Force for so long. In essence, she had been in remission.

However, as Luke closed his eyes he felt the disturbance again. He reached out further into the Force and on the edges of his perception he saw Darkness and it was closing in. The murkiness of something evil could be felt for the briefest of moments then it was gone again, hidden from him.

He opened his eyes and sighed. He was planning on retiring from active participation in the Order that he had rebuilt. He honestly never expected to "retire"; he figured he would die as the Grand Master trying to hold his order of over thousand Knights and Masters together. But Mara needed him more than the Jedi. It took him along time to realize that. Besides, it was the whispering of the Force that prompted him, as much as Mara's illness, that it was important for him to name his successor and him alone. He now only hoped his successor was capable of forestalling whatever this new evil could be.

He had announced two months ago that he was considering Kyp Durron as his replacement. That garnered a great deal of interest all across the Galaxy as could be expected. Many still believed Kyp should have been executed for his crimes against life when he destroyed Carida while under the influence of the Dark Side fifty years ago. But Luke didn't see it that way. He felt of all the Masters currently available with enough experience to be granted the highest rank among the Jedi, Kyp was the most logical choice, the only clear choice. He had been the first granted the rank of Master by Luke and he had been on the Council since its conception. He had also been one of Luke's strongest proponents for the creation of the Council to begin with. But besides this, Kyp Durron understood the dangers of the Dark Side. He always followed the will of the Force, and upon occasion may have crossed the very fine line between Light and Dark, but his experiences with Jaina's near decent taught him that there was indeed a line. Something, Luke himself nearly forgot at one time.

However, the counsel had also asked him to consider Corran Horn for the position. He had nothing against Corran and he was genuinely considering him, but something kept him coming back to his nephew-in-law.

Luke stretched his feelings again and couldn't feel the murkiness. But that didn't reassure him. He was suddenly more concerned than before. Something was out there, something Dark, something capable of hiding and that truly frightened him. Because the last time something like this eluded the Jedi, a Sith Lord came to rule the Galaxy and his father had fallen prey to him. The Jedi were destroyed.

X

Coruscant

The door to the small training room swished open and he and his Apprentice stepped though. As he looked up, he caught sight of her working the sapphire hued blade through an exquisite pattern and using a unique form. She was battling an unimaginable twenty remote droids all set at the highest firing rates. He had never seen even Master Skywalker accomplish that.

He heard his enthralled niece whisper, utterly awestruck, "Uncle, how can she do that?"

As if that broke the spell Valin himself was under, he looked down at his fifteen year old niece and Apprentice, "That is her gift, Hope. All of us have different things the Force has granted us to use to do its will."

Valin then returned to watch in growing fascination as Anakah Durron used the Force to turn each droid off one at a time while still deflecting the harmless, but still painful, blue stingers. After the last one was powered down she turned and smiled at her audience.

Hope Tainer began to clap her hands and excitedly said, "That was awesome, Anakah. I hope I'm that good with my lightsaber someday."

Anakah grabbed her water bottle and towel from the nearby bench and moved over to them. Then she smiled down at the brown haired, blue-eyed girl and replied, "Well, hopefully, you will someday. Sometimes though I wish I had something more exciting to fight than droids."

Valin chuckled but somehow the humor never reached his eyes, "That is because everyone knows not to spar with you."

She looked at him and met his gaze. The sudden intensity in her blue eyes startled him. But as she smiled she said silkily, "Oh, that. But I haven't beaten everyone. For instance, I don't believe I've ever sparred with you, Master Horn."

He shook his head, "That's because I like my ego the way it is. I've seen what you can do with that," he pointed to the saber on her belt.

Anakah only grinned more and cocked an eyebrow, "Why, Hope, I believe your uncle is afraid of me."

"No, not afraid. Only cautious," Valin couldn't help but be taken in by his friends' eldest daughter's charm and beauty.

"Oh, please, Uncle Valin, let me see you spar with her," Hope nearly was bursting with excitement. Anakah Durron's lightsaber skills were something of a phenomenon among the younger students.

He glanced from Hope to a smiling Anakah and knew he was trapped. He smiled and shook his head, defeated, "Okay. But only if you are up to it, Anakah."

"I'm always up for a good sparring match. There are few things I enjoy more," as she said that last Valin caught sight of her eyes flicking over him. And for some unknown reason that caused him to shiver.

They moved into the center of the ring and Hope took a seat on the bench to watch. Valin removed his outer robe and laid it beside Hope. She smiled up at him and, as she tried to hide an amused smirk, said, "I just want you to know that I will always think you were my best Master, Uncle."

He looked at her puzzled, "What's that supposed to mean?"

She couldn't contain the giggle any longer, "Well, we both know that she will beat you. Which, if this was real, means that you would be dead."

Valin chuckled despite himself and reached over to hank on one of the girl's pig-tails. "So little faith."

Then he turned to Anakah. He pulled his saber from his belt and was surprised by her question as he began running through a series of warm-up exercises, "Do you ever wonder why we, the modern Jedi, still learn lightsaber skills?"

He stopped his stretching to look at her. Then after a moment he said, "The art of lightsaber swordsmanship has always been part of the Jedi. It is as much a part of who we are as the Code itself."

She shrugged, that didn't convince her, "But why? Have you ever fought with your lightsaber?"

Valin's memory instantly went back to the last time he was required to do just that. It had been a year ago during the ambush attack on Ansion that his beloved wife of twenty-five years had been killed. Tahiri's passing still haunted his dreams. He missed her terribly.

He swallowed and looked away, "Yeah."

Anakah who must have sensed Valin's grief quietly amended, "I'm sorry, Master. That was not what I meant. I meant, when was the last time you actually dueled someone else with a lightsaber?" Valin turned back to her and she tried to lighten the mood, "I mean, there aren't many Sith Lords out there any more. Last I heard, Great-uncle Luke took care of him and now my cousin has an astromech named for him."

Valin couldn't help it, her good humor was contagious and he chuckled, his grief momentarily forgotten, "Yeah. I understand from Cassie that your grandmother nearly lost it when she first heard that." He completed his warm-up and was moving around her his saber held in a middle guard.

Anakah followed his moves with her brilliant blue eyes, her own saber held in a high guard. "Well, you know Grandma Leia. I guess it bothered her that he would take it so lightly that our great-grandfather was the once hated and feared Darth Vader."

Valin circled again assessing Anakah's posture trying to guess her first move and opening up to the Force. "I just hope this as close to a Sith Lord I ever come."

Anakah raised a delicate dark brow, "Master?"

He laughed and added, "I mean you are descended from one, after all." And with that he lunged.

Anakah easily parried and the dance began. It ended several long minutes later when Anakah managed to use the same move on Valin Horn that she had used on her father the last time they sparred. As she held the saber point to under Valin's chin she grinned triumphantly and raised a brow, "I do believe I've just killed you, Master Horn." Then she closed down her lightsaber.

Valin stood straighter and deactivated his own, between the deep breaths of the hard workout, he said, "Like I said. You are as close to a Sith that I ever want to come."

She laughed softly and then threw a towel at him from her things. He caught it easily and as he raised it to his face he breathed in the light essence of Corellian lilies and realized it was Anakah's scent. He watched as she bent and stretched to grab her water bottle. As his eyes moved up the length of her prefect body, he instantly turned his head. What was he doing? But he couldn't keep from looking at her. She was easily the second most beautiful woman he ever seen. Tahiri had been the first.

Finally, she looked up at him and this time her expression held something else. Her eyes seemed more intense, promising. Force, she didn't catch me looking at her, did she? But she simply looked over at Hope, smiled and said, "It has been fun. If you ever want me to give some pointers, Hope. Just let me know." She looked back at Valin and smiled, "I don't think your uncle would mind."

Hope nearly bubbled with glee, "Oh, please, Uncle Valin, can she teach me sometime. That would be awesome."

Valin looked from his niece to Anakah, but when his grey eyes met her blue he seemed to find himself getting lost. "Yeah, that would be fine," he finally got out.

They said their farewells and Anakah gathered her things. He watched as she left the training room and as the door slid shut, Hope, who now was standing beside him, said, "She is so beautiful. She could be a holostar."

Valin turned to his niece, his expression impassive and said blandly, "Oh, I haven't noticed." And with that lie he knew he was in trouble.