Su cuy'gar vode! (Lit. "You're still alive, comrades!") Here is chapter 7, as promised.

And, finally, after nearly two whole books (from the last part of book 4 to the current chapter of book 6) Rez and Jordin are on a homeward-bound flight! Well, sort of…and I'm finally getting around to translating what cyar'ika means (in case you don't remember, Rez calls Synta cyar'ika in book 5, but doesn't translate because he doesn't even know what it means.) And good news; Part II of the Invasion begins in chapter 8! So stay tuned, folks; you don't want to miss out on the action!

Mando'a Phrases

Ori'vod - "big sister/brother" Mando'a is not gender-specific, so vod has various translations, generally "brother, sister, comrade, ally". Ori, of course, means, "big, extreme, very" and is used as a prefix, whereas ika "little" is added as a suffix.

Hukaatir kama - the former means "to cover" and the latter basically means a "belt-spat" or back.

Ret'urcye mhi! - goodbye, lit. "Maybe we'll meet again"

The funeral chant, basic translation:

The fires of death consume us all

The weight of glory is hard to bear.

Our hearts beat as one as we march

To spill our blood for cowards.

No one cares who we are

No one cares who we'll be

No one cares for the brothers we have lost

For the sake of someone else's dream.

The fires of death consume us all

As we sweat blood for traitors

We are the slave army of a doomed Republic

But our sacrifice sets our hearts free!

Chapter 7

"The Council has requested me to inform you of my discovery of your Padawan, Jordin Skraps, researching sensitive information in the Jedi Archives under pretense of procuring Intel crucial to the Kuat mission. While it is certainly not wicked to read documents on display to the public and sundry, her motives for looking up these files are questionable. I am not sure if action can or should be taken against your Padawan's idée fixe with your history, but I think the best that can be done is to make sure you are aware of her activities. Perhaps steps should be taken to make your students aware of the dangers of having an unwonted fascination with Haak and his affiliates, but it is not in my place to advise you on how to train your own Apprentices." – Text communication from Madame Jocasta Nu to General ell Talaan, dated 407 days ABG. Found on Adriaan's datapad by retrieval squad following the invasion. Message marked "unread".

✶ GAR barracks docking bay, Coruscant, 408 days ABG ✶

MISSION FILE #4: SIEGE OF KUAT, PART II

TEAMS:

HODASOL – General ell Talaan, Captain Wolf. Aliases Rune Kebiigaan and Atoya Hodasol.

GREEN DRAGON – Commander Enik, Aedan, Andre, Jahn Pal, Sai'wer, Nic, Heatrian, Andora.

MEDEVAC – Klamin J'Oli, Major Skipp, Vyto, Fyre.

TWILIGHT – Commander Lee, Commander Yon, Commander Ember, Lieutenant Cor, Sergeant Storm, Nano, Drag, Lance, Ammo, Onor.

According to the information disclosed by the two Mando prisoners, there is a Separatist facility operating on Kuat's moon. However, the Mandalorians stated they were not heading for the moon, but the planet's surface. Their statements were confirmed by their ship's log. This Intel strongly suggests there is cultist activity on the surface of Kuat itself, as well as on its moon. Therefore, HODASOL's objective is to discover and infiltrate a Separatist organization on Kuat, accomplishing this by posing as the Mandos now held in GAR custody. GREEN DRAGON's CO is to take charge of Invader Regiment, which is currently stationed on the KDY orbital ring. The mission of GREEN DRAGON is to reassure Kuat citizens the GAR is taking steps to avoid a Separatist attack on the naval facility, as well as monitor and suppress any cultist activity in the city. While GREEN DRAGON is a safeguard against a direct attack on Kuat, TWILIGHT will be deployed to the Kuat moon. If any Separatist facility or operation is discovered, it is imperative that TWILIGHT put the organization entirely out of commission. The MEDEVAC team has two objectives: the first is to escort the Mando prisoners to a GAR POW camp in the Mid-Rim, and the second is to see Commander Chun-be safely back to his homeworld, where he will be instituted into the care of a Goba Shag medical facility.

The GREEN DRAGON and MEDEVAC teams are to send in routine sitreps to the Fortitude. Because the nature of TWILIGHT's and HODASOL's missions require the teammembers to go behind enemy lines, they are to maintain comm silence as instructed in the GAR SOP manual (Sec. 19, paragraph 6: Black Ops SOPs). Because the CIS might detect a GAR communication within their territory, TWILIGHT and HODASOL are to keep a strict comm silence until they are back in GAR territory.

The Invader CO wishes you all success on your individual assignments. Pirunir sur'haaise* and may the Force be with you.

* - "Make their eyes water" is slang for kill, injure, or defeat.

Jordin, her jade earrings swinging joyfully from her newly pierced earlobes, made her crooked way to the awaiting gunship. Though she could barely take a step without stumbling, there was a bounce in her walk, a remainder of the original vigor and liveliness she had had before her accident. She could very well end up with a permanent limp, and she had put her carefree childhood days aside, but she was still as optimistic as ever, though her cheerfulness was toned down by a wiser nature.

"I am eager to see Kan and the others again," she commented to her companion.

"So am I," Rez agreed, reaching out and catching her by the arm before she tripped over a utility droid and fell flat on her face. She had just recovered from head trauma, so she was in danger of second-impact syndrome; another concussion could take her life. Rez was tempted to make the girl wear a helmet all the time, though she was so headstrong he doubted he could make her do it. In one thing she had not changed: she was still as stubborn as an Aedan.

Suddenly the Padawan halted, her head swiveling so fast that an earring swung round and whacked him right in the eye.

"What is it?"

"Your girlfriend's here," she murmured teasingly.

Rez had already said his goodbyes to Synta. It pained him to think of that parting; she hadn't cried – as he had anticipated with a great sense of dread – but the compressed-lipped, pale, strained look on her face as she coldly wished him well seemed thousands of times worse than a tempest of hysterical weeping and piteously throwing herself at him and soaking his brand-new fatigues thoroughly with her tears. Oh no, she had said goodbye to him as cooly and bravely as any ideal soldier's wife would. "Come back with your shield or on it" She had accomplished the farewell nobly and splendidly, but Rez would have liked it much better if their parting had been a little less awkward and aloof.

At least she had shown genuine pleasure over his parting gift. She had squealed in delight and made a big deal out of his aesthetic tastes. "I had no idea you were such a brilliant artist!" she had exclaimed. She had given him a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek for the armor; at the goodbye she had merely shook his hand in a cold fish's grip and wished him well.

That was the last image he would have of her – sallow, taut, frigid, shaking hands as if their friendship had been nothing but a business matter. Surely she should have kissed him goodbye? Or what if…Rez suddenly had a chilling thought. What if it had been his responsibility to kiss her goodbye? It was a fact too horrible to imagine. Had she expected him to take it up another step? He knew so little of such things. He really should have asked Eris Akura for some advice. Eris was only a Jedi Padawan, but she seemed to understand matters of the heart better than anyone else Rez knew. She hadn't grudged him a few tears at their parting.

"Hah, very funny," Rez growled. Synta wouldn't be coming to see him off at the platform. Soldiers' women didn't do such things, lest it show weakness.

The earring whacked him again, this time leaving a stinging red welt across his cheek as a painful souvenir. Curse those earrings; I really shouldn't have gotten such long dangly ones. "Captain Rez, about face!" Jordin barked.

He automatically turned as he was bid and saw Synta standing in the shade of the platform building, kitted up in the black armor emblazoned with yellow Eclipse lilies. Her helmet was on, concealing her face, yet she stepped with obvious eagerness toward him. He halted, approving of the battered black utility boots on her tiny feet, an uglier yet more practical substitute to the sharp little heels she was accustomed to wearing.

"I can make my way to the gunship alone," Jordin murmured in his ear, and generously staggered off to give Rez a few private moments with Synta. Released from his burden, the clone raced across the platform and met his girl in the middle, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tight to his chest. She worked her arms out of his embrace and popped the seal of her helmet, releasing a cascade of dusky curls that filled his nostrils with the fragrant scent of cherry blossoms. Forgotten were the strict tenets of cold, military farewells, unspoken were the encouraging words of those to be left behind, "Come back with your shield or on it" Synta's arms went round him, a warm raindrop fell on his neck, and now that their mutual grief was all released and out in the open their hearts were somehow the lighter for it.

After a moment, he released her and held her at arms' length, allowing his eyes to soak in the beauty of her twilight hair gleaming carmine in the rosy dawn, her russet eyes two limpid amber pools in her copper-complexioned face.

Synta was the first to speak. "I really tried not to," she stammered, "I tried to be a good soldier and not cry in front of you, but…but I did such a nasty job saying goodbye this morning I had to come back. Can you forgive me for crying?"

"I was hoping you would cry," Rez said with a laugh, realizing too late just how bad that sounded, but luckily Synta understood and she giggled through a mist of tears.

"I'll be taking the accelerated program at the Academy, so with luck it'll only be a few months before my first assignment," she said. "Maybe after I graduate I'll be drafted by your contingent, and then we'll get to see each other again."

Unless either or both of us is shot down before that, Rez thought, but this moment was too precious and brief for him to say something like that. "I talked to my General after she contacted you, and she seemed impressed by you, and General ell Talaan is rarely impressed by anyone," he said. "You'd be welcome to join our team, if that's where you're enlisted. Maybe I can ask Adriaan to request that you be assigned to her…but we'll see. That's still quite some time away."

"Six months, to be exact, unless I fail finals," Synta said with a wry grin. "And knowing my current experience in the art of warfare, that fate is quite conceivable."

The helmet jammed under his arm crackled, and he knew the pilot on the gunship was attempting to raise him. Probably wondering what the blue blazings is making me take so long out here… "Thank you for taking me on all those dates," he said. "I really enjoyed experiencing Coruscant life with you."

"So did I. I had no idea you soldier boys could be such sweethearts," Synta said with a smile. Her expression softened and fell quickly, however. "You'll keep in touch with me, won't you?"

"I have your number, and I feel somewhat responsible for your welfare. So yes, we'll keep in touch." And hopefully Ember won't freak about that. I'll be in enough trouble as it is once I get back.

ELF Commando and aspiring soldier stood staring at each other for several awkward moments, both struggling to come up with the appropriate thing to say.

"Hey, Rez! You coming or you got a hot date to catch?" A trooper called Blaze shouted from the ship as the pilot revved its engines and prepared to lift off.

The trooper took a step away from Synta, trying to find a way to gracefully take his leave. Shavit, I always know what to say. Should I kiss her before I go, or would that be too forward of me? Is it the boy or the girl who starts it? "So, Synta, see you…well, I suppose you know this, but I –"

Synta stepped in. Both helmets clunked to the platform as she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him firmly on the lips. It was the first time he had been kissed, and shocked yet pleased, the clone had no idea how to react. Her lips were chilly and wet and delicate, like snowflakes melting on his tongue, yet as he responded to her touch she warmed against his skin. Her mouth was soothingly warm yet refreshingly cold, resistant and yielding at once, and though the sensation confused him at first, it was not an unpleasant uncertainty. After a few seconds his racing heart slowed down, and his arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. His helmet was crackling and muffled shouts were issuing from the internal comlink, and several voices were hollering at him across the platform to hurry up and board, but he was deaf to their pleas, the kiss transporting him to a world of total bliss, where he hadn't a thought in the world save that he loved Synta completely and devotedly with all his heart.

Finally, they broke away, breathing hard. Rez rooted to the spot, stared in astonishment at the woman. His girl. His cyar'ika. By now he knew what a cyar'ika was; cyar'ika meant –

She gave a little hiccuping gasp and ducked her head as her amber eyes grayed.

"Goodbye, cyar'ika," he managed to choke out before that inexplicable something – like adrenaline except infinitely more intense, more passionate, more lasting, more, more – overpowered his ability to speak. As he said it, his heart, though it felt it was about to shatter with the pain of their parting – oh, shab, it had never been hard to say goodbye to his brothers; what made it so hard now? – was glad because he knew what cyar'ika was, but most importantly he meant it.

Her eyes cleared, and for a moment a piteous half-smile firmed the quivering lines of her lips. "You never told me what cyar'ika meant, you know," she said. "Will you tell me now?"

Now that she had just kissed him? That's not what she said, but it's what she meant. None of this bargaining business with them; love wasn't "If you give/tell me this I'll do A, B, C, etc…" – love was selfless. He knew because his brothers loved him, Jordin loved him, Eris loved him, Adriaan loved him, and he loved them back, and he loved…yes, he loved Synta. There had been none in the training facilities on Kamino, no mothering nurturance of the womb in the cloning vats, no affection in the cold fishy faces of the Kaminoans, no tenderness on the battlefield, no devotion in the dirty cantinas of Coruscant, no passion in the Jedi – yet Rez had experienced love all the same, because Adriaan had not been afraid to attach and endear herself to him and his brothers, and they had not been afraid to feel affection for men and women who very well could end up in a coffin within the next hour. In loving one another they had exposed themselves to the most acute pain in the universe – the pain of a broken heart. Yet they allowed themselves to become vulnerable, to be weak, because…

Because somehow that weakness gave them the strength to continue.

"Maybe," he said coldly, despite the warmth of his mood and ruminations. He attempted a mocking grin and failed miserably.

"Well, then, then…fierfek, man, what the hell are you doing, just standing around here like a gutted Hutt? I just kissed you goodbye; that's your cue to go! Fierfek, don't you know anything?" Synta demanded, her voice croaky and rasping. She was trying to be angry and ferocious, but he wasn't fooled one bit. Her stern countenance soon dropped, and she hurriedly pressed her mouth to his again, her lips trembling and frisson with emotion. Again the thrill coursed through his body, but before he could return the caress, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away. The time had come; he would not touch her again, smell the maddening essence of her skin and hair, perhaps never again, unless some supernatural force out there saw fit to see them through the next six months of hell. She bent down and tossed him something: his helmet. She slid hers on and immediately became a faceless woman warrior, the proud and stern soldier's girl. "If you won't tell me what cyar'ika means, then get the hell out of here, you fierfeked dinko, or…or I'll start bawling again!" a metallic voice choked from within the helmet.

The commando slid on his helmet hurriedly as the knot in his throat loosened and a few raindrops blurred his vision, though there wasn't a cloud in the sky. He stood rooted to the ground in an agony of indecision, knowing that he must go, though his heart would break, though he would be feeling a dull ache in his chest for months thereafter. Then, as Jordin's high little voice broke into his thoughts, he dashed forward, grabbed his armored girlfriend by the shoulder panels, and gave her the fiercest "Keldabe kiss" he could muster. Their helmets butted with a solid clank, and the masks had hardly broken contact when the soldier roughly and unceremoniously dropped Synta and sprinted after the grumbling gunship.

As he leaped on board and grabbed a handhold, he turned around and shouted, "It means, 'sweetheart'!"

Then the doors closed and the ship rose up into the clear Coruscanti sky, and left a black clad Mando figure alone on the platform.

Poor ori'vod, Wolf thought, watching the General tirelessly tending to Darc Chun-be, who lay strapped to a medical capsule while he drooled and babbled like an imbecile. The cultists had attacked his mental faculties mercilessly, driving him totally senseless.

"A shame," Onor said in the helmet link. The blue-armored commando stood impeccably at attention, his mask angled ever so subtly toward Darc.

"Not really," Cor grunted. "Even before his accident I wouldn't have exactly classified him as 'intelligent life'"

"Still, overall he wasn't a bad chap, for a civvie," Skipp conceded. "He was good in a scrape and had a sense of humor – those are the qualities of a good soldier."

"But he was disrespectful," Nano pointed out. "He talked back to the General and flirted shamelessly with all the women."

"It wasn't as if he was going against the regs," Ember said. "He wasn't officially part of the GAR – he was the CO of his own planet's army, so he wasn't required to conform to the GAR rules. He didn't even have to tag along after that Umbria stunt."

"I think he stayed because deep down, he really misses the life he once led," Wolf said. "He'd never admit it, but he was really unhappy as a civilian. Adriaan was his only tie to his old life. I think she realized that, and that's why she never carried out her threats to kick him off the team."

"But she hated Darc," Cor pointed out.

"I think she did, at first," Wolf admitted. "But old friendships are hard to forget."

The clones watched as the Jedi bent down and stroked Darc's wrinkled brow with anomalous gentleness. The man quit thrashing for a moment and seemed to grow still, calmed by the touch of a familiar friend. Wolf looked closely into Adriaan's face and discerned pity in her ferocious yellow-blue eyes, a softness in her lips despite the frozen expression on her face. Adriaan was more like a clone than she realized – she, too, hid her true feelings behind a cold, heartless white mask.

And she's sick, he realized, noting how her slender hand trembled against the caramel tints of Darc's face. Some of the luster had left her eyes and hair, the rosy bloom in her cheeks had faded to a gaunt grey. Her proud shoulders seemed stooped, as if she were carrying a heavy burden. What had happened to her?

"I think Adriaan's more squeamish than she'll ever let on," Cor said, apparently also aware of the General's depressed spirits. "She's been rather down in the dumps ever since she interrogated those prisoners."

Her illness went farther back than that, Wolf knew. Something in her past had come back to haunt her. Adriaan had not been cruel to the prisoners. What had caused her to sweat blood?

He turned to ask Vyto, but the trooper seemed to read his inclinations, for he shook his head firmly. "What she told me is confidential," he said, and everyone knew better than to convince the stubborn medic otherwise. "All you need to know is that the General has a very unpleasant past. She didn't make it quite clear to me, but either the prisoners said something or she had one of those Jedi visions that reminded her of some things she would have rather forgotten. I've never known her to be so distracted by something that she could never carry out a mission, but you'd better hukaatir kama – watch her back – just the same when you two go undercover, Wolf."

"I always do," he grunted in reply.

"I don't like it," Ember said for the fiftieth time. "I trust you and the General and all, Wolf, but don't you dare go taking advantage of being alone with her for a long period of time, because trust me, if you do, I'll know."

"Ooh, inherited some Force powers, have you?" Ammo joked.

"You don't need the Force to sense some things," Ember replied stiffly.

"Excuse me, sir," Wolf muttered, saluting and whirling on his heel abruptly. Silently, he stalked off the deck, his fists clenched to clam the lid on his seething irritation. Of course, everyone by now knew that his feelings for Adriaan went past a simple fraternal relationship, but did Ember seriously have to advertise it to everyone? It was maddeningly humiliating. Certain his face must be purplish-red with embarrassment, he kept on his helmet and simply switched off the communications headset so that he wouldn't have to listen to his brothers' chattering. They would soon figure out he had an ulterior motive for retreating to the safety of his room to compose himself.

He entered the quarters he shared with his brothers and, with a huge sigh of irritation, flung the rumpled sheets and crumpled undergarments Ammo had sloppily left on the floor. "Of course, Ammo is allowed to neglect the reg manuals," he fumed, surveying the way some of his brothers left their kit lying about. He swiftly removed a highly flammable container of liquid fire away from the heater and automatically checked to make sure Cor had put the safety on his deece. Cor never put the safety on any of his blasters, said the safety catch "Hampers my rapid-fire ability" Never mind every good soldier instinctively knew a holstered blaster without the safety catch on was just begging to shoot the wearer through the thigh and into the groin. I'd like to see Cor walk that injury off, he thought with grim satisfaction, tossing the blaster into Cor's flight bag. He checked to make sure everyone had their gear in order before finally making his way to his bed and pulling out the stacks of armor plates from underneath.

It really wasn't fair. The others were cut a lot of slack – Rez was allowed to wear his hair long and tour Coruscant with his girlfriend, Cor could get away with keeping his guns off safety, Ammo left his dirty underpants lying about for the universe to see – but the moment Wolf hinted that maybe he liked a certain young female Jedi officer, Ember was all up in arms. Why, one night Wolf had gotten up to use the refresher, only to be startled by Ember jumping upright in bed and demanding, "Just where do you think you're going so late at night?" It was ridiculous; Wolf had never even admitted that he harbored any such hopes of having a romantic relationship with ori'vod. What made Ember all suspicious and ultra-protective? It wasn't as if Adriaan was anyone who would encourage a romance.

Wolf couldn't help loving Adriaan, he hadn't chosen to fall in love with a Jedi. It had simply happened. Why couldn't Ember understand that? Wolf unstacked the black and silver armor plates, admiring the ghostly blue hand slapped across the T-mask. He had taken Rune's armor and made some adjustments so it would fit Adriaan's curvaceous, broad-shouldered frame. Kay had helped him, providing him with her Master's measurements. The clone suspected Kay approved of Wolf's feelings for the Jedi. No one else knew of the gift he had made. He was slightly nervous Ember would freak out about it – he hadn't exactly forbidden presents to ori'vod, but these days Wolf never knew what would scandalize his commander – but it wasn't as if he was presenting her with chocolates or flowers. It was something practical, sensible, entirely unromantic. Adriaan was going to use Rune's identity once they went undercover, anyway, so she would need the armor to uphold the image of the tough Mandalorian woman.

No, Ember certainly couldn't find anything wrong with Wolf giving Adriaan a custom-fit armor set. She had expressed the desire to get some armor, anyhow.

Wolf had spent months silently suffering, never once breathing a word of his feelings for Adriaan. He had expressed astonishing self-control, insisting on calling and treating her as his big sister, following Ember-the-mom's orders to a T, picking up after his sloppy brothers, never once complaining…in contrast, Rez hadn't spent more than a fortnight away from the squad and he had already picked up a girlfriend and gotten acquainted with the various cantinas on Triple Zero. He insisted he hadn't tasted a drop of alcohol during his entire furlough, but for some reason Wolf seriously doubted that. Rez had never been what his brother would describe as a model of temperance. Sure, Ember had blown up when he heard about it, but he hadn't gone so far as to embarrass Rez in front of the entire squad or insist he call Synta his "sister" It was entirely unfair.

But he wouldn't complain, not even to himself. Bracing himself, he collected the armor plates and stood, inhaling deeply.

"I'll show Ember who's self-controlled," he said to himself.

He was back on Zylxx. He was Captain Enik again, no longer the darkened yet decorated Commander Kan of the Green Dragon Regiment. No longer Unguili-draco – Dragonclaw – the cruel compatriot of Klamin the Mirrorskin, haunted by the memories of nearly torturing Darc to death. He was still innocent and untainted as virgin snow. Yet I am not happy. Zylxx…I hate Zylxx. The pain, the uncertainty, the humiliation, the hatred, the distrust of one's own Master – the seed was planted on Geonosis, but it lay dormant within my heart until Zylxx. Zylxx germinated the seed of hatred.

"Kan, have you ever considered that perhaps you are fighting on the wrong side?"

Kan folded his arms. "No. I do not even need to think about my choice. I know what is right."

Kestrel shrugged. "There are several different point of views to 'right' Kan. Evil and good can be found anywhere. The Count could strike a profitable deal with you, if you would only consider…"

"The CIS made a deal with this planet; they promised friendship to Zylxx," Kan said, shaking his head. "And this is the way they repay their clients. Dealing with evil will only serve me evil, so no thanks."

"But you are already dealing with an evil," Kestrel said softly. "That evil is your Master."

My Master. Kan took a step forward. "What did you say?"

"Those questions I asked you…they were not just out of random curiosity," the strange man said. "I have had cause to believe that your Master has had affiliations with a sith cult. A dark Jedi was employed by Count Dooku several years ago, and she disappeared after betraying him. So by listening to your delirious musings, and the answers you gave me, I think perhaps this Adriaan is yet another dark Jedi who knows the one dark-Force user we've been looking for –––"

"My Master is not a dark Jedi! She serves the Jedi Order, not traitorous people like the sith!" Kan screamed, lunging toward the scientist. The anger he had first felt when his Master Ruru had died returned to him, and he felt an overwhelming desire to strike down this vile creature before him. Shouting in fury, he bore his lightsaber down at Kestrel's head.

Suddenly he felt the peculiar sensation of being blocked by an invisible obstacle. He struggled to move his arm that had frozen in mid-swing, but found he could not. Enraged, he began to fight back against the imaginary thing that was stopping him. What was holding him back?

Kestrel looked at him mockingly. "Well, are you going to get on with killing me?"

"Who are you?" Kan screamed.

The cyborg man shook his head. "If only you knew," he said softly. "You would be granted immeasurable power."

Summoning all his strength, Kan threw himself backwards and was sent sprawling on his back. But at least he was free from the strange prison.

"You are strong in the Force, Kan. It is obvious your mysterious Master taught you well," Kestrel said, stepping forward. "But she didn't teach you everything she knows!"

He held out his hands, and lightning exploded from his fingertips. Kan cried out in agony as the blue flames licked all over his body.

"Master!"

"Fool; do you think your Master can save you? She couldn't even save the one person she ever cared about. It is too bad you are following in her footsteps."

Jordin lay upon a low couch, her face pale and grey, like day fading into dusk without the sanguine blush of sunset. Her hair spilled out around her, red-gold as the sun's blood. Her white lips were parted, a thin mist rising from her mouth, reassuring Kan that she was still alive and breathing. But her breath seemed weak; why was she so pale?

She turned her head towards him, and her translucent eyelids fluttered open, exposing the passionate green fire that had long lay sleeping beneath the pale skin. The emerald irises rolled back and forth, unfocused and blinded by the light, and finally fixed with startling clarity upon Kan.

"I wish I could have seen you one last time," she said hoarsely. And then a slight whisper escaped from her lips, and the eyelids filmed over those great green eyes as her head fell back against the pillow, her skin the same color as the ivory sheets.

"No! Wait, Jordin! I thought you were all better! What happened?" As if in answer to his cries, a mist rolled back and he saw things, horrible things: soldiers storming the Jedi Temple, a cloaked figure cutting down Jedi and younglings as if they were no more than worthless droids, Adriaan hunched over the body of a dark-haired child and howling with anguish and rage, Klamin the beaten and bruised slave of a sith lord on his dark throne, his Master struggling to keep in an explosion, prevent a bomb from ticking, holding back a fire from devouring the galaxy…

The detonator blew up and the fireball consumed his vision, but not before he saw Jango Fett – or wait, was that Rez? – whirl around and blast Jordin in the heart.

"Kan?"

He started, his head rearing back as his eyes met the limitless dark of space through a viewport window. He had always loved sitting at the windows of a ship and just watching the stars as the craft floated through space. He supposed the soothing starscape had lulled him into a doze. He glanced at his chrono and saw that his suspicions were correct: it was 0430 of day four hundred and eight of the clone wars.

He looked up and saw who had awoken him; Adriaan stood in the doorway, her lean frame bulked out in grim black and silver Mando armor. She had the blue-hand helmet of Rune under one arm, and her dark gold hair was braided down her back as she stared at Kan, her face shrouded in the gloaming. "Are you all right?"

"Just exhausted, I guess," he said with a feeble attempt at a grin. "Did you need me?"

"I just wanted to say goodbye. Wolf and I are leaving in about ten minutes."

Adriaan had never gone out of her way to say goodbye before. That was interesting. "Well, have fun," he said, adding the typical, "May the Force be with you."

She waved a hand, as if batting off his dismissal. "I – I have left instructions. I have sent a message to the Jedi Council, recommending you and Kay for the Jedi Trials."

Kan was surprised. He wasn't quite fifteen yet and Kay was only seventeen; the typical age for a Padawan eligible for the trials was on the right side of twenty. "Isn't it rather early to send in a recommendation?" he asked lightly.

"Better to give my blessing early than never," she said, striding forward suddenly and hiding her face by pretending to gaze at the stars.

Her words puzzled him. What did she mean by, "Never"? Surely she didn't think… "Don't say things like that," he said. "The future is not set in stone. You may return."

"But if I don't," she said, but did not continue. She rested her helmet against the ledge and cupped her chin in her hands as she leaned forward, staring intently at the Warrior constellation. Her Padawan did not push her to finish, but joined her in watching the stars in silence.

"You and Kay are to lead the brigade in my stead," she said finally. "Ember, of course, will be your marshal commander and advisor. You can trust him; he's a good man. You and Kay will look after my boys, won't you?"

"Of course," Kan said, and meant it. He didn't like the clones, but he didn't have to like them to protect them.

"The Council may not have you undergo the Trials right away, but at least the two of you will be on the wait list," she continued. "If I shouldn't return, well, I'm not that good at saying things, but…you've been a wonderful Padawan, and a loyal friend. Nothing in the universe can stop you from achieving your dreams. You'll make a great Jedi Knight someday." She spun round now, her irises as dark a velvet as the firmament cloaking the window. "Long may you defend the Republic should I never return."

Kan swallowed. She hadn't said much, but the conviction behind her taciturn speech was unmistakeable. But instead of feeling satisfied that his Master was proud of him, he was assaulted by a persistent guilt. Because deep down in his heart, he knew he didn't deserve her esteem. Because I deliberately stood by and allowed Klamin to hurt Darc, a comrade and loyal ally.

He also knew that no matter what evidence to the contrary Klamin brought to light, Adriaan was trustworthy. Whatever wickedness she had committed in the past, she had left in the past. She let the dead bury the dead. Whatever she had done, surely Kan could forgive her. He had to forgive her, or he would not be able to forgive himself for the evil he had done.

The desynchronization that had existed between Master and Apprentice had partly been Kan's own fault, because in his heart, he had never been able to cope with Ruru's death and accept Adriaan as his new Master. He had always looked upon her as a surrogate instructor, sort of a substitute teacher who would oversee his training until his Master would return.

But Ruru was never coming back.

"I don't deserve your praise." He heard himself say.

She laughed softly, disbelieving. "Of course you do, Kan. Why would you think such a thing? Heck, at least let me congratulate you for not being like Klamin."

The kindly meant words cut him to the heart. "I am like Klamin, or worse, because I have had no reason to be turned against you," he said.

She frowned. "What are you saying?"

His throat constricted. He swallowed and nearly choked at the rawness in his esophagus. "I – er…" His voice failed him.

"I've been thinking," she began, misinterpreting his silence for bashfulness, instead of fear, "you and I haven't entirely been on the same wavelength, and it's mostly my fault. I should have realized a long time ago that being so secretive about my past would make you feel uncomfortable. And, well, since it is apparent Haak is no longer dead…" She struggled and fell silent.

I was the one who hurt Darc. He wanted so desperately to say those words, but instead he found his voice saying, "I think I met Haak once."

"Then you're lucky to be alive," she remarked blackly.

"It was on Zylxx. He lived in an underground science lab and called himself Kestrel. He was the one who ambushed me as I left the Pyronite encampment. He zapped me with Force lightning." He shuddered, recalling the agony he had suffered.

"It's quite possible you met him," she said. "He was infamous for being a master of disguise, but I was nearly always to see through his deception because I noticed a pattern in his aliases. He always chose some sort of bird of prey as a name; he had an obsession with those creatures, it seems."

"He told me you were a dark Jedi," he blurted. "He also insinuated that you knew how to use Force lightning."

She didn't seem concerned. "Obviously, I do know that Force trick," she replied dryly.

There was a pause. "Are you a dark Jedi?" Kan whispered.

"I admit that I have tread on that path before." She shrugged, but her eyes darkened. "But now…I am no longer sure."

"What do you mean?"

"There is a prophesy connected to the foretelling of the Chosen One, a prophesy attached to my existence," she said. "It is in harmony with the balance of light and dark, good and evil; just as there is the One who must bring balance to the Force, there must also be an Anti who will threaten discord."

"I don't understand."

"It is a long story I almost don't have the heart to burden you with," she said. Abruptly she straightened and turned away from him, away from the stars. Had she even noticed the beauty of the bright, clear constellations? "I am running out of time, so I cannot tell you more. But if I should return, I will tell you everything. I promise you."

They all saw Wolf and Adriaan off at the docking bay. Vyto, Skipp, and Fyre stood beside the hover medpod that contained Darc while Klamin stood a little way off, an aggrieved expression on his face. Kay stood with her arms folded, calling out encouraging words to the departing duo, simultaneously hollering at Andora to stop the Wicked Club from dismantling an ARC-170 parked in a repair dock. Andora scolded ineffectually at the boys while Marya flaunted her assignment orders at Klamin, who looked like he was going to explode any second. The Zabrak had been put on the Twilight contingent while the Shi'Odo had been assigned to prisoner transport and evacuating Darc to Goba Shag. Though Klamin had been secretly pleased that he was being sent to Goba Shag, where he could continue his investigation of Adriaan ell Talaan, he was furious at his Master for assigning him a mission that, in his own words, "Jahn Pal and Sai'wer could accomplish". They all suspected Adriaan had given Klamin prisoner consignment as punishment for talking back to her earlier, and it did not help the Shi'Odo at all that the younger and less experienced Marya Yon had been given the harder mission.

"Take good care of the General," Ember, who had not stopped issuing orders to Wolf since his assignment to the Hodasol detachment, rapped out briskly.

"I will," Wolf replied wearily.

"And don't do anything you'll regret later," Ember said with a significant glance in Adriaan's direction. The Captain's face flushed bright red, realizing the Commander's insinuation had been picked up by everyone in the vicinity.

"Oh, I won't regret anything I do with her," Wolf answered with uncharacteristic slickness, and Kan winced at the barbed reply. Now it was Ember's turn to blush; he was so astonished and outraged at this remark he was rendered completely speechless and could only watch in mute fury as the black ops commando jauntily jogged up the ramp and disappeared into the cockpit of the bounty hunter's ship. A few moments later, the engines powered up and shot a blast of hot air out of the exhaust port, nearly singing the eyebrows off Ember's face. The Commander stepped back into formation with Rainbow Squad and saluted to the General as she finished her goodbyes.

She hugged her Padawans goodbye, embarrassing Andora and infuriating the Wicked Club, who hated being touched by GOODS. She clapped Klamin on the back because he wouldn't deign to return her embrace, and held Darc's hand briefly in farewell. Then the ELF Commandos clustered around her and gave her Rainbow Squad's trademark rousing rally drill. They gathered in a circle, arms over each other's shoulders, and began bellowing the Mando'a dirge Adriaan had sung at the funeral of those on the Invader team who had perished on Umbria.

Kyr'am tracyn hettir mhi an

Kando be kote atin'la bah jorir.

Cuun ka'rtase brokar solus sa mhi taabir

bah tal'galaar par hut'uune.

Naasade n'ulu meg mhi'cuyir

Naasade n'ulu meg ven'mhi cuyir

Naasade n'ulu par Vode mhi ganar echoy'la

Par narser beh b'ash'ad vercopa

Kyr'am tracyn hettir mhi an

sa mhi tal'onidir par auretiise

Mhi darmav akaan'ade beh shabla Tsad Droten

A cuun tal'onidir cuun kartase mav!

They all jumped apart and did some heathenish, wild dance, which consisted of head butting one another as hard as they could. Adriaan's forehead turned bluer and bluer as she went down the line, and when she made it at last to Cor, his thickskulled mug whacked her so hard she was thrown off her feet and landed with a solid smack with her back to the floor. Ember began to scold Cor, but the Jedi laughed and leaped up gracefully, even as a blackish goose egg began to swell on her forehead. "Ret'urcye mhi!" she said cheerfully, running lightly up the ramp.

The blast from the exhaust port pulled her hair loose from its braid, and the golden tresses cascaded freely down her back and were caught high in the wind, like a brave yet tattered flag. Before she melted into the interior of the ship, she twisted on her heel and cocked her hand in a salute. Her dark blond hair flew about her pale face and veiled the purple bruise on her forehead as her fingers rapped against it in farewell. Across the space, her yellow eyes met Kan's grey ones.

"We'll meet again," she called, and then she was part of the darkness within the ship. The craft roared, levitated, shot out of the dock and into the blackest blackness of space. The dark ship melted into the darkness of space; there was an explosion of light, and the shadow was gone.

"We'll meet again," she had said. But he felt a hole in his heart, a cavity that had been there ever since that day four hundred and eight days ago, when his Master Ruru had left for Geonosis and had returned to the Temple in a coffin because of Kan's own foolishness. No amount of care and love given to him could fill that gap, nothing could contain that darkness. Perhaps he and Adriaan would meet again, but for the sake of their old friendship he wished it would not be so.

Because deep down in his heart, he knew that this would be the last time they would part as friends.