Chapter One

You didn't know me all that well, did you, little sister?

Laughter tore her from her sleep; loud, dark and cruel laughter. Jaina shot up from her cot, disoriented and yet already grasping for the blaster under her pillow. She needed a few seconds to realize that the laughter was only in her mind; and that the rushing in her ears was her own, frantic heartbeat.

The sky beyond the small window was dark.

She had found herself a small, run-down place to stay, something that might have been a store-room once and had been converted to a makeshift bedroom for an overnight guest. Hotel rooms in Mos Eisley were either intolerable or intolerably expensive, so she had taken the advice her uncle had given when sending her out onto the mission. Luke Skywalker, Grand Master of the New Jedi Order, had grown up on Tatooine. Jaina had heard her Master call her husband a farm boy; it was her loving nickname for one out of the perhaps three most powerful beings in the known galaxy, smugglers and slave traders aside. It seemed the Grand Master had kept up with his home planet's customs despite having left it more than forty years ago because Jaina had easily found one of the small, hunched houses which displayed a sign next to the door. The wind-faded sigil had indicated at a free room to rent in exchange for some credits. The old couple that had opened the door had been nice, even generous, offering Jaina of their own surely sparse dinner and even water to rinse her hands and face. She had declined as politely as possible and had quickly shut herself in the small room: she needed some time to prepare her gear – and her thoughts. And then she must have fallen asleep. The next thing she remembered was jerking awake to the echoes of her nightmares.

Jaina had seen many people break.

Her father had broken when he had lost Chewbacca, and another time when Anakin had died. Only the second time, he had not left his wife for months. Jaina had once, in the middle of the night, stumbled across them: wrapped into each other's arms, a still statue of loss and of strength. Leia Organa Solo, Jaina supposed, would always be strong like that, but she also couldn't be strong all by herself. Han Solo, thankfully, had realized that before she had broken down completely. Jaina had felt Tenel Ka's anguish when Jacen died for the first time, his Force presence concealed completely by Vegere, and had seen Tahiri stumble and fall after Anakin's death. Even her uncle, the unbreakable, ever-optimistic Luke Skywalker, had frozen when he had felt his wife close to death, and had almost fallen when he had gone to encounter the one he had thought responsible. Mara Jade Skywalker had survived her encounter with Lumiya's Sith apprentice only because her unique immune system had saved her. It was ironic, seen from hindsight, that the medicine supplied by Vegere had saved the Jedi Master from Vegere's Sith accomplice. Jaina had seen Jacen slip, had even felt herself break in the same way. Because we are twins. One heart, two bodies, forever, right Jaina? When Jaina had stumbled it had been Jacen's hand that had caught her, and when Jacen had doubted, Jaina had believed for him until he believed in himself again. She had expected them to stumble together, but to always find their path again together, as well.

She had never, ever expected him to fall.

The mission order had come fast and unexpectedly, that in itself had not been a surprise. Only it had come at the entirely wrong time. Jaina would have liked to stay with her family, especially in times like these, even though it probably wasn't the case she had the feeling her aunt needed her. And her parents. Her mother and father had kissed her good bye, smiling as always, but Jaina could see the strain in their shoulders. Her brother's actions had caused a rift to open between the Jedi and the government, a ragged, sharp-edged cut her mother and uncle would have to try to heal again. After Tahiri's botched assassination attempt on Admiral Pellaeon the Empire had withdrawn completely, but that didn't mean it would stay that way. And there still were the Mandalorians, and the Hapans, and all the large and even larger bushfires that sprang up here and there in the galaxy again and again. And Leia Organa Solo, Han Solo and Luke Skywalker would be in the midst of it, as always. Jaina did not envy them, but she also did not want to leave them alone. Especially not since her parents had lost another son, and her uncle had almost lost his wife and himself.

Luke Skywalker had looked exhausted and grey, his eyes sunken deep into his face. A different face flashed in front of Jaina's eyes as she entered his office, overlapped with the one she saw in front of her: this was the man who had played with them, the man who, patiently, had explained the ways of the Force and who had read them stories when it was time to go to bed. This was the one person who had resurrected the Jedi Order: Grand Master, father, uncle, husband and friend. The one person who could still best her in light saber training. If anyone was the Sword of the Jedi, Jaina thought, it was him.

"I am sorry," were his first words, and Jaina knew with the sinking feeling that was both her Force sense of him and her intuition, that he did not want to do what he was doing right now. "I am sorry, Jaina. But I cannot go. I will have to place this burden on your shoulders once again. After Lumiya-" He swallowed and could not even look at her, "I cannot trust myself right now."

His glance went through the walls of his office, seeking out a sight in his mind only he had access to. He looked lost and shattered, desolate. He would rise again, of course he would, because he was Luke Skywalker. And he still had his wife, and his son, and an Order of Jedi that would help him return to the right path. The darkness that had lingered around him shortly after he had killed the Sith Mistress was already diminishing, but it would take some time because he was blaming himself for Mara's situation. Jaina had not spoken to her former Master. In fact, nobody had. Mara Jade Skywalker had been in a coma since her son had brought her home. It wasn't the usual Jedi healing trance. It was darker, deeper, something almost desperate, and Master Cilghal, Tekli and every Healer the Jedi had had tried to wake her – to no avail. Stubbornly, Mara had refused to regain consciousness. The injuries she had sustained were severe. Her spinal cord had been damaged badly and Cilghal had only been able to save her life but not her ability to walk. Her damaged neuronal system prevented any replacement of muscles and tissue with mechanical implants. Weeks in a bacta tank had healed many of the physical injuries Darth Caedus had inflicted on the Jedi Master. Her mind, however, was a different matter. Sometimes, quietly sitting at her aunt's side, Jaina wondered. It had always been a battle of wills, since she could remember: the even-tempered Grand Master and his fiery-eyed wife; supporting each other, loving each other with a depth she couldn't help but envy from the bottom of her heart. Seeing one of them without the other felt almost physically wrong. Luke Skywalker had barely spent a minute apart from his wife since Ben had carried her into the Temple, bleeding and unconscious, but especially a Grand Master had to sleep, had to eat, and had to function for the sake of the Order. He'd grown thin, grey and tired, but he still was there. And Jaina had known that she would go wherever her uncle needed her if it would help lighten the load he had to carry. But she also knew that everything broke, sooner or later. There was only so much strain a person could take. And beings broke in different ways. She just hoped – prayed, desperately – that her uncle would still be there when she returned, and her parents. The last remnants of what once had been her home, because home was where her family was, and now half of it was gone. Half of Jaina was gone, and it was her own fault. She should have stopped him. She should have known – she should have felt – but she hadn't. She had failed. How could she still be called a Jedi Knight?

Sword of the Jedi my ass.

Her brother's pleading in her ears – don't do that to me, Jaina, you're my twin, don't, please, don't let them do this to me – she fell asleep again and dreamed of blood-red Sith eyes, the clash of dueling light sabers and blood all over her hands. When she jerked away the next time, sweaty and terrified, she got up instead and tried to meditate. It wasn't enough – it never was, these days – but it was enough to calm her frantic heartbeat and to focus her mind on what had to be done.

The sunrise was striking; as if to point out the difference between beauty to the eye and inner beauty. For such a horrid, hot and desperate planet, it managed to hold Jaina's attention for a few seconds. When she lowered her gaze back to the ground a slave trader passed in a run-down speeder, three slaves desperately following and trying not to fall as to not be pulled behind by their shackles. Did human beings, she wondered, get used to oppression and slavery? Because the sight would have had her reeling in anger a few years ago, especially after what the Yuuzhan Vong had done to her galaxy. Now, the only thing she felt was bitterness. She grabbed her gear instead, cast one last glance at the empty room and left.

Not entirely unexpected, Valia was a remarkable person.

Jaina had expected the challenges it took to move through the desert streets of Tatooine. The sand was everywhere. In her dirty brown cloak, her guide sometimes seemed to disappear in their surroundings entirely. No matter the heat, her surroundings and even her age, she moved through the dusty roads with all the elegance of a dancer. Jaina was not taller than her guide, approximately thirty years younger and had trained both her body and her mind since she was six. Still, she felt clumsy and inexperienced compared to the other woman. At least she didn't talk much. It was a relief: she would not have stood idle chitchat while crossing through Mos Eisley. Her guide led her through narrow streets in which already busy vendors were setting up stalls, where women were sitting in the shadow of the entrances. On a door step, two children were playing some kind of game that involved glass stones. They peeked at her, both shy and curious. They were used to the sight of faces that were almost completely hidden beneath masks and shawls, Jaina supposed. She was putting off the moment she had to cover her face completely but a thin piece of cloth was already covering the lower part of her face, leaving only her eyes to be seen. One of the children – a girl, if the length of its hair had any say in its gender – waved at her and smiled. Jaina hurried on.

"Grandma!"

After a time that felt like an eternity in the steadily increasing desert heat, they reached a small repair shop in the outskirts of Mos Eisley. In the sparse shade a large tarp provided, an old man and two younger ones were working on something that looked vaguely like a land speeder but that was so dusty it could have been a droid that had been trying to clean the desert.

"Janus, my grand-son," the woman introduced one of the two men who leaned down to hug her. "Janus, this is Teresa. She's on her way to visit her family."

"Nice to meet you." The young man – barely twenty-four? – squinted at her. "Western Dune Sea?"

"That direction." Jaina was not willing to disclose any more information. The boy looked nice and the thought made her feel old. If Anakin had survived the Yuuzhan Vong war, he'd be that age now-

"We'll take my speeder," Valia informed her grandson with an affectionate nudge. "Don't stare, Janus."

"Sorry." He turned away, embarrassed. A good boy. "Follow me. I've kept it as you asked me, it's ready to go."

Valia's means of transportation was a dust-yellow speeder that looked old but well-kept.

Jaina eyed it critically while her guide chatted to the owner of the repair shop. Janus hovered in the background.

"You're a beauty." She didn't realize she was voicing the words out loud as she patted the speeder's body.

"She's old, but ship-shape." The boy used the opening she had not intended to hand to him. "Just like Grandma. She's one of the best desert runners, too, though she seldom takes a job offer these days." He hesitated. "Why is she working for you?"

"Don't know." Jaina shrugged, opting for half-truths. "Maybe she thought I'd kill myself trying to cross the Sea by myself if she didn't take care of me."

Janus laughed. "She's like that, yes." He eyed at her again, more closely, carefully. Jaina lowered her face and contemplated Force-muddling his memory, but it was too late. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Only if you've been to Dantooine," she said with forced lightness and turned away. He didn't let her hostility deter him.

"It doesn't matter." There was an urgency in his voice that forced her to turn around again. "Take care of Grandma, will you? She's not the youngest anymore."

Wasn't it supposed to be the other way round? But, being the only girl among her siblings, Jaina had had a lot of practice taking care of her brothers. Which, incidentally, had not ended well. She pushed away the thought. Irritation made her voice sharper than she had intended it to be, especially since Janus seemed to be a fairly good person.

"She'll only take me to the Western Dune Sea."

"Still."

With that, he turned and headed back to where his colleague and supervisor were standing. From his back she couldn't read his mood. And why should she care? Turning away, she deliberately pushed every distraction to her mission from her mind.

"God bless him," Valia said as they finally departed. "Eleven grand-children, and only Janus here has something of mine. He can hear her, too."

She probably meant the Force, though her grasp of it had to be more instinct than ability to actually tap it. Jaina sighed: of all guides in Mos Eisley, the one she had to choose was the only Force-sensitive person. On the other hand, no desert guide in his right mind had wanted to lead her, so she probably had a point.

"We will reach the Eastern Dune Sea tomorrow." Valia was steering the speeder with the ease of practice. We'll have to cross it and the Jundland Wastes if we want to reach the Valley of the Spirits. And the Wastes…" She shook her head. "The Jundland Wastes are not to be travelled lightly."

"People keep telling me that," Jaina murmured. And wondered whether the bad feeling that was creeping up within her was a vision of the future, or just pure logic. She glanced behind them, but Mos Eisley was already disappearing from her view.

Her uneasiness remained.