"You did wonderful, Leia," Bail complimented his daughter.

"Thank you, Father," she smiled. Palpatine had seemed rather preoccupied at the Senate meeting, so at least she hadn't had to worry about his evil and perceptive eyes staring at her. She shivered. That was an experience she could never get used to, though she was becoming accustomed to the political scene.

"How is your, ah, memory, Winter?" the male Organa inquired somewhat hesitantly.

"As always," Winter replied with a smile. She still recalled every word she'd ever heard.

Bail's gaze flicked around for a moment, and he seemed almost nervous. Leia wondered if he were looking for Obi-Wan...The Jedi was probably still hiding in the back of the ship. She was about to state where she thought Obi-Wan was when her father began talking to Winter.

"Ah, Winter," the man trained his eyes on hers, "I was wondering if you might do something for me. The, ah, Rebellion is in need of someone with your...expertise..."

So, this was it. Leia had known that her friend and sister would be taken away from her eventually for such a purpose, and it seemed that time had finally come. She would still see her every now and then, she knew, but she would have one less person to talk to in most of her times of need. For the princess of the Royal House of Alderaan, that was one person too many to lose. She couldn't talk to her father about just anything, and, besides, he was always busy. As for Obi-Wan...

...He was like her second father, but he often seemed distant, looking toward the horizon. It was as if something away from Alderaan were screaming for his attention, but he could not go to it.

When she did confide in Obi-Wan, he always returned a constant stream of advice, a stream which she usually didn't want to hear. When she confessed her fears, he warned her that fear was of the Dark Side. When she mentioned her frustration at something, he told her that anger and aggression would also lead down the dark path. When she asked explicitly for advice, she was instructed to look deep within herself, for she would find the answer there.

At least Winter was straightforward.

Now, it was Leia's turn to give advice. The princess rested a hand on her friend's arm, receiving a startled look in return. "Please, go, Winter. They need you."

"Thank you, princess," Winter said softly. She knew how much the advice cost Leia.

Though he was hesitant to break the moment between his two adopted daughters, the Prince of Alderaan knew he needed to do so. "You will be known to them only as Targeter...For security purposes."

Winter nodded.

A new life had begun for both her and Leia. Winter would go on to aid the Rebellion more directly, while Bail, with the willing Mon Mothma's help, would groom Leia toward becoming a Senator—which would help with the legal fight against the Emperor's evil whims. Winter had the feeling that Leia would be an Imperial Senator very soon, probably the youngest in galactic history; Winter could easily see Leia beating Mon Mothma's record. And when Leia did join the Imperial Senate, Winter knew she would constantly challenge Emperor Palpatine's new Imperial policies, acting as a voice of eternal dissent. Winter prayed that Leia would try to stay out of highly dangerous situations, but she knew even as she did so how unlikely that would be. Leia had a higher purpose, one that she would be sure to fulfill.

****

A short, elderly creature stood prodding the spongy ground on a swampy planet with his gimer stick. The Force was constantly changing circumstances and altering the available choices...

He sent out a brief tendril of reassurance to his torn pupil. His pupil's sudden change was barely noticeable, but to someone as knowledgeable of the Force as Yoda was, it was readily apparent. Fortunately, Obi-Wan was beginning to calm down and become more confident about his decision.

Yoda shook his head thoughtfully. He had been certain that the Force did not mean for him specifically to train the girl, that she was supposed to be the catalyst for something...But now he was not so sure.

Were he and Obi-Wan misunderstanding these proddings from the Force?

It was time, Yoda realized, he did some extensive meditation of his own.

****

Darth Vader glanced over at the large krayt dragon tail that was sticking out from under the large pile of rocks, still impressed that the Tusken had managed to kill the enormous beast. It was time for him to pull the youth out from the trance; the Tusken Raider wasn't fully healed, but the Emperor would grow more impatient the longer he had to wait for his prize.

And besides, he was more than a little curious about how such a creature could be filled with such great Force potential.

****

Chinnatah stared up at the cavern ceiling for a few moments after he regained consciousness, letting the events of the day slowly wash over him.

He'd defeated a krayt dragon, only to have another obstacle come into his path...

But that obstacle hadn't tried to kill him. It hadn't even served as a real obstacle. Instead, it had helped heal him...Somehow...

Of course, he was not fully healed. He still ached in a dozen places, but the pain was not nearly as overpowering as it had been.

Wincing, he began to sit up, and he noticed the black figure watching him.

Slowly, Chinnatah got to his feet, casting his glance about to see if he could find his gader stick, but the effort was made in vain; the beaten-up weapon was buried somewhere beneath the rubble.

...The rubble!

Quickly, he went to the rubble where the dragon was buried. He pushed toward the dragon's middle as swiftly as his aching body would allow and began throwing rocks aside.

Quizzical, the black figure asked something, but Chinnatah couldn't understand the words. Finally, an image was planted into the young Tusken's mind: the krayt dragon, alive, then the krayt dragon dead, then an image of Chinnatah, and then the krayt dragon alive again.

The youth paused, making a Tusken hand gesture that signified "no." He didn't quite understand what the dark man believed was happening. He thought about an image of his own and tried to push it over toward the ominous sable figure: a beautiful, polished stone being retrieved from the beast's gizzard and held in the Tusken's hand. He was startled when he felt the other receive the image.

****

Darth Vader nodded, feeling somewhat foolish. The youth wanted the krayt dragon pearl. And he, Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, was going to help the Tusken Raider get it.

It was not a kind gesture on his part; he simply knew that he needed to earn the creature's trust if he were going to be able to get the youth even near the waiting Imperial shuttle. He could always try mind control, but the Tusken's mind patterns were different from humans, and he wasn't certain how successful he would be. He could always knock out the Tusken, but it was best that he try to build up some trust.

Vader used the Force to remove some of the rocks off the dead body, finally taking out his lightsaber to slash open the krayt dragon and allow the Tusken access to the beast's innards.

There the pearl was, gleaming in the dim light given off by his red lightsaber. Even Darth Vader had to admit it was a unique specimen.

Almost curiously, he watched the youth's reaction.

****

Chinnatah removed the stone from the krayt dragon's gizzard, holding it in his hand for a moment to look at it before clenching it tightly in his fist and depositing it into his carryall pouch. He brushed his fingers briefly against Arr't'ni's stone while his hand was in the pouch.

At last, he'd won.

He felt relief trickle through his system. He would finally be considered an adult.

He had faced the most difficult rite of passage and passed! Joy began to spread throughout his body, causing him to forget the pain momentarily. He could not help but think about the fact that Mrekln would be jealous.

Then Chinnatah frowned as the dark man began placing a barrage of images into his mind. First, a strange-looking ship that reminded him of the birds that nested in the canyon nooks, then Chinnatah himself walking into the ship, then the stars (so close he could almost touch them!), then himself at the helm of a ship, then himself on a planet covered in buildings, and finally himself with all the water he could drink...

Chinnatah felt the longing within himself to get away from Tatooine and go beyond its twin suns grow...

But had he gone so far on Tatooine, only to turn and take an entirely different path?

He thought to Vrentlla; he had been doing this as much for her as himself. She was his one true companion. She had never doubted him.

And what about his mother?

She had been very understanding, but they were of two different kinds. He wasn't meant for the Tusken life, and both of them knew it.

Chinnatah lifted his chin. He could not help it; he wanted a moment of selfishness. He projected an image of himself participating in the ceremony that would finally truly unify him with Vrentlla. He also projected an image of the ritual in which he would be given a gaderffii and the clothing of an adult and allowed, in the privacy of a tent, to shed his uli-ah clothing. He thought he should be allowed that much.

A feeling of reluctant agreement from the dark man entered his mind as Chinnatah projected these images, but when he projected the image of Vrentlla's entering the ship with him, the dark man sent him what was definitely a negative feeling.

Chinnatah received an image in his mind, this time that of the bantha looking very out of place on the planet covered in buildings.

Sadly, Chinnatah knew he had to agree. Vrentlla's place was in the desert. His was not.

****

A few hours later, garbed in adult male Tusken attire and bonded to Vrentlla, whom he could truly call his own mount only now that he was to leave her, Chinnatah stood in front of Arr't'ni. Vrentlla was standing at a respectful distance away from Chinnatah, while the dark man was waiting in the ship.

Chinnatah couldn't quite fathom why he was so willing to go with the dark man. Everything he'd ever known was on Tatooine.

And yet, what had he known? Rejection, both by himself and others. He had rejected much of the Tusken culture, and many belonging to the Tusken culture had rejected him in turn. He had always wanted something more...And now that opportunity had been set before him.

How could he turn it down?

He just stood there for a few moments, his eyetubes meeting with his mother's. Arr't'ni said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move.

At last he did, reaching into a pouch at his side and removing from it the object which had just given him what he'd been wanting for so long: equality and responsibility.

Now, he was going to give all that up for the unknown. And since he was doing so, it didn't feel right to him to keep the object that had given him what he was now rejecting. He held the krayt dragon pearl out for Arr't'ni to take.

She held out her hand, but instead of taking the precious stone, she pushed his hand away. She stared at him. Somehow, she knew he was leaving, forsaking their tribe and clan, never to be welcomed by the Ghorfa again.

Clenching and then pocketing the krayt dragon pearl, Chinnatah turned away, walking toward the shuttle and not looking back.

Before he was able to reach his destination, however, Chinnatah was halted by a large being in his path: Vrentlla, snorting and stamping her feet.

She gazed forlornly at him, and for once she didn't seem to understand—she couldn't simply accept what was happening. She nudged him gently with her nose, her soft brown eyes looking as sorrowful as he had ever seen them. He could practically see the questions in her eyes: What are you doing? Where are you going? Are you taking me with you?

Chinnatah clenched his fists, staring through his eyetubes at the loyal beast. Suddenly, he threw his arms around her large, furry chest, his rag-covered face pressed tightly against her. He stroked her hair, trying to soothe her.

He tried to make her understand without words. He had to go. He belonged in a different life. He pulled back, looking her in the eyes. Didn't she understand? Couldn't she? Wouldn't she just accept that he had to go?

He set his gaderffii stick on the ground—it was an offering to his faithful companion and a rejection of his life as a Tusken. He would need it no more.

The bantha opened her mouth and let out a pained groan, the cry carrying forlornly through the desert, like that of a child suddenly left all alone. She couldn't accept what she didn't understand. He was leaving her. What would she do without him? She would die!

But Chinnatah could not comprehend why the bantha did not understand. He looked into those sorrowful brown eyes one last time, begging for acceptance from her that he for once could not receive, and then he turned around and sprinted off with the image of those troubled orbs burning into his mind. It was a broken bantha that he left behind him.

Unseen, Mrekln, who still hadn't completed his rite of passage, stared at Chinnatah's small form from atop of a cliff, wishing his rival good riddance. Chinnatah didn't belong with the Tusken Raiders—had never belonged with them. All in the clan knew it.

The Tatooinian suns slowly sank, splashing angry colors on the sky that soon began to fade into darkness.

****

Darth Vader sent the Tusken Raider a questioning probe. The winded youth didn't respond; he just walked slump-shouldered into the ship.

The Sith Lord did not inquire any further. That the Tusken was coming peacefully was still something of a shock to him. Usually, the Sand People only used primitive technology, never going so far as to even enter a true ship, much less with someone who wasn't a member of a Tusken clan.

While keeping an eye on his passenger, Vader piloted the shuttle up to the orbiting Super Star Destroyer, declining the offer of a welcoming crew. He left explicit instructions that he wanted to go straight to his quarters and that the corridors and hangar were to be cleared of all life forms. After he was settled into his quarters, the Executor was to jump into hyperspace.

Once on board the Sith Lord's flagship, the Tusken followed Vader to his quarters very quietly—almost eerily so. The Sith Lord sent the all-clear to an officer, and then he turned to the youth.

"We're going to have to change your clothes," Vader said, almost as if to fill the silence. He knew the Tusken Raider couldn't understand him. He could practically feel the other frown, so he sent a mental image through the Force of the youth slowly unwrapping rags.

The youth started violently, backing up several steps and crouching into attack position. A feeling of flat refusal was sent to Darth Vader.

The Sith Lord stood still for a few moments, his blood boiling at the youth's obstinacy. Finally, the Tusken gestured at Vader's appearance, and the Sith's temper slowly began to cool.

Of course. Why should the youth do something that Vader would not?

The Sith Lord walked toward the door to his meditation chambers, motioning for the child to follow.

The Tusken Raider didn't move for a moment, seeming almost quizzical. Then the significance of the gesture seemed to sink in, and the youth walked forward cautiously.

Of course. Gestures of the Sand People were different from those of humans. Vader shook his head minutely before walking into his meditation chambers.

****

Chinnatah stared at the walls around him. These places were all so strange, so very metallic...so...sandless.

Everything was so different from Tatooine...It was so cold and dim, and there was no sand to be seen.

The Tusken Raider forced his thoughts back to the dark man. He still could not quite believe that the dark man had had the audacity to ask him to remove his rags. The youth thought about the matter for a moment. Humans usually went without rags covering their faces, so perhaps that meant this figure was a human.

...But he didn't seem to be human. He had his face and body covered, and it looked as if there were something mechanical on his chest.

Was he a machine? Was Chinnatah trusting his life to a machine?

As he entered the room with the dark man, the air suddenly seemed hard to breathe. Chinnatah began to panic, but he felt a flicker of reassurance from the black form. He took a deep breath, realizing that the air seemed very pure...

The dark man sat down in a chair, pressing a button which caused a machine to come down. A few moments later, the dark man's helmet was removed.

Chinnatah watched curiously.

****

Darth Vader hesitated. There was no reason for him to go on any further. He could force the youth to remove the rags if he needed to. But something still prodded him to take off the mask. He tried to push back the urge; this was a primitive creature that would be unable to appreciate the significance of Vader's removing his mask.

But Vader needed to build the creature's trust. Even primitive species always seemed to have major issues with trust.

Grasping at the Force as he scowled beneath his mask, Vader finally removed the dark helmet, revealing pale, scarred skin that had not seen the sun in years. On impulse, he sent an image of what he had once looked like to the youth.

****

Chinnatah gasped. The difference between the image and the figure in front of him was vast. What had happened to change him so? Perhaps he would know one day...

The dark man had taken the first step. Now, Chinnatah knew it was his turn.

****

Darth Vader, who always enjoyed the rare glimpses of color he received visually when he removed his mask, watched as the youth reluctantly began unraveling his rags, finally revealing a face as pale as his own, one in which strangely familiar crystal blue eyes were set. The child had long, scraggly, greasy brown hair with just a hint of blond in it.

The boy was human, Vader realized.

He remembered the appearance of the faces of those he had murdered long ago, faces he had uncovered after he had killed them, driven to do so by his morbid curiosity.

This was not the face of a Tusken Raider.

Suddenly, Vader felt some of his inhibitions disappear. This was something he'd be better able to handle.

****

Chinnatah quivered, and it wasn't just from the cold. He had taken such a leap with the removal of the rags covering his face, and he felt naked. He was truly leaving the Tusken world behind.

He received an image from the dark man of himself standing beneath falling water, of himself standing in different clothes, and of himself with shorter hair.

He looked down to the ground for a moment. It wasn't too late. He could still go back to Tatooine. The warm suns would still have him, even if his tribe would not. The twin suns, at least, would rise for him again.

But what was there for Chinnatah? He would be exiled by his tribe, and his mother would never forgive him for leaving.

He brought his gaze sharply up, a new fire in his sapphire eyes. He would face whatever the dark man could throw at him.

****

It had taken Vader several tries to explain to the boy what he was supposed to do. He had seemed scared of the shower head at first, and then, after he had gotten over his fear, he had kept attempting to go under the water with his Tusken clothes still on. At last, trying to quell the faint and almost alien feelings of embarrassment caused by some of the images he'd had to produce for the boy to comprehend his intentions, Vader managed to convince the boy to bathe and change into the black tunic and pants he'd had tailored to his size before they'd even begun the refresher ordeal.

Hours later, the youth was sitting in a chair, and Vader was holding a pair of scissors out. It would be much better to have a professional cut the boy's hair, but Vader wanted as few people as possible to know about the former Tusken until his master had seen him. And so the Sith Lord personally took the cutting utensils to the boy's no longer matted, but still very lengthy, hair, and he shaped it into a passable version of a military cut.

He surveyed his work with something akin to pride before trying to take in the whole image.

The haircut was a major improvement, that was for certain, but Vader could not help but feel that the boy's pasty skin was very out of place. As if that alone weren't enough, it reminded him too much of his own pale face. With Force-detailed instructions, Darth Vader had the youth put on a skin solution that would make him look a little less...dead.

Now, Vader decided wearily, he would try to teach the boy some Basic.

"Hair," he said, holding up a few long strands of hair in his gloves.

The youth made a hand gesture, and Vader's respirator echoed in the silence.

After a few moments, Vader tried again, repeating the word and shaking the hair.

Again, the same hand gesture.

Finally, somewhat frustrated, Vader reached out to the Force for aid in communication.

"Do you understand me?" he asked, using the Force to try to amplify their connection.

The hand gesture.

Ah, the difference in species once more, Vader mulled, deciding to try a different approach. "If you understand me, move your head up and down."

There was some hesitation this time, but finally the boy's head slowly nodded.

Darth Vader felt the strange sensation of a smile tugging at his lips. The Force would certainly make this whole process a lot easier.