Chapter Three:

"Our next target is Naboo," Vexa informed the staff on the War Council.

The Council now included the heads of each organization that had joined the Rising, though only the original members got to vote. Everyone was allowed to offer input, but not everyone could vote: this was so that the process took less time and was far less complicated with so many voters to be worked through.

"May I ask why Naboo?" Rotta the Hutt— Jabba's son— asked.

"For two reasons, actually," Furch Phlox, Vexa's right hand man, replied. The Dressellian man sat forward, interlacing his fingers together upon the table. "First, the Republic knows us to be unpredictable, and yet, we appear to have been going in a straight line. We need to feed their fear of us being unpredictable."

Vexa nodded. "My other reason is that it was Naboo that aided the Republic at Bespin. They should not have become involved in that conflict. Now it will cost them. We will target Naboo, as our spies have noted that the Republic is thinking of sending ships to protect Sullust. That would be the next planet in line if we continue down the Rimma Trade Route like we have been doing."

Rotta grinned, the gesture made somewhat creepy by his huge, gaping mouth. "A bit of revenge, then: I like it."

Vexa smirked and continued. "We will begin by taking Theed. However, instead of coming in from the forests like the Trade Federation did, we will take the palace outright. Once we have control of the Queen, the natives will be more easily controlled."

"Once we have the Queen and her palace," Furch said, "we will spread out to take the rest of Theed. Then we will allow our Neimoidian friends," he gestured to a trio of Neimoidian leaders, "to continue the take over as we move on in our quest for galactic dominance."

A nod from the three indicated men told Furch that they agreed.

"I will be on the ground for this assault," Vexa informed the group. "I will have my Fist with me, as well as another two acolytes. We will help take the palace."

"What will be the target after Naboo?" a Pike asked.

"From Naboo, we will split our forces into two fleets. The larger one will attack Sullust as planned. Once that battle is under way, we will strike at Malastare as well, which will either be a quick victory, or the Republic will attempt to also split forces. Either way, we will win."

"I highly doubt the Republic will see it coming." Rotta mused.

"Exactly," Furch said. "And we will move swiftly, not allowing the Republic a chance to catch their breath. Once we've captured Sullust, we will move on."

"Not to doubt the desire of this council, particularly Lady Wran," a Weequay captain of one pirate gang said, "but wouldn't that spread us out too far too fast?"

"No, it will not." Furch assured him.

"Do we have the numbers to follow through with this plan?" the man pressed. "And what about maintaining what we do take? What if the Republic attempts to reclaim systems we take? If we follow the corridor we appear to be, we will be flanked on both sides by Republic-aligned worlds. We would be vulnerable."

"What is your name?" Vexa asked mildly.

"Haigh Alix," the Weequay said, straightening.

"Haigh," Vexa said, "I understand your concerns, and acknowledge them. But we do not need to take the entire galaxy by force right now. We aim to take Coruscant, and we use that as our base of operations. First we us fear to instill the other planets to fall in line. Those who do not comply will be made an example of. That will generate further fear, playing right into our hands."

Haigh inclined his head. "I understand. But I still do not know that we have the manpower to achieve this Milady."

Vexa blew a breath through her nose. "We have more in our grasp than you think. Have faith, and you will see that I am correct. Many of the galaxy's inhabitants already fear my Fist. With him at the forefront, and with his ruthless nature, I am able to use him as a tool of fear much like Emperor Palpatine did with Darth Vader."

"Where did the Fist even come from?" Lady Corti, the female Zygerrian leader, asked. "He only showed up just before we truly began our offensive."

"His origins are unimportant," Vexa said, the warning note clear in her voice. "But rest assured he is utterly loyal to me. He will not betray me."

Lady Corti took the hint and wisely accepted it with a dip of her head. "I did not mean to offend you Lady Wran. I was merely curious."

Vexa inclined her head in response. "We have a battle to prepare for. We will go over the attack plans and then you will all be dismissed."

Everyone shifted to a more comfortable position as Furch began to lay out the plans.

00000

The pinkish hue of Ord Mantell's atmosphere seemed odd to Anya, but only because she was unused to seeing such a color in a planet. Shmi, seeing her friend's gaze, smiled softly.

"Uncle Han talks about Ord Mantell from time to time. He says it is a strangely beautiful planet from space." Shmi paused. "But it is a lawless place on the surface. Are we certain about this?"

Anya looked to Shmi. "I've been in worse situations."

Shmi nodded. "Okay, well, where do we want to start?"

"One of the cities: we can get a job at a tavern or something," Anya replied.

Shmi glanced to her friend. "Aren't you still seventeen?"

Anya gave her a meaningful look. "Didn't you just say Ord Mantell was lawless?"

Shmi had to take a moment to gaze at her friend and then she smirked. "Someone has spent too much time with Ignis."

Knowing that Shmi meant it as a joke, Anya returned the small grin.

Anya then shrugged. "Besides, I'm only seventeen for a few days more."

Shmi blinked in surprise. "Really?"

Anya nodded. "Yes."

Shmi smiled. "Well, that's exciting."

Anya didn't really think so, but she kept that opinion to herself as Shmi piloted them into the atmosphere.

"Han always said that if you can manage it, get a private berth," Shmi said. "But we can't currently afford that, so I guess we go public and hope for the best."

Anya considered. "What if, instead of getting an apartment, we live on the Nebula and pay docking fees instead of rent and utilities?"

Shmi turned a sideways glance on Anya. "You sound like you've given this a fair bit of thought."

"No, but I have lived on my own for several years, moving around as I can." Anya reminded her friend. "I know how to lay low."

Shmi recalled that and nodded. "Alright, private dock it is then."

They found a spot and landed without any issues, for which the two were thankful. Shmi took the opportunity to look around the area from the viewport as she went through the ship's cool-down sequence. There were parts and old droids scattered along the perimeter of the bay, and Shmi caught the scent of grease and other chemicals used in mechanical jobs.

After the Nebula was shut down entirely, the two girls retrieved their day-packs and moved to the boarding ramp.

Shmi looked to Anya, hefting her bag upon one shoulder. "Are you ready Raziel?"

Anya smirked. "I am whenever you are, Ashlyn."

The two had chosen pseudonyms to use while they were on this mission, to avoid anyone recognizing their names and trying to use that against them. Shmi had also altered her looks to further decrease the chances she would be recognized. She had temporarily dyed her hair a light brown, and had put in contacts to change her eye color to chocolate.

Once they exited the ship, an Aleena approached. His blue-gray skin was smudged with grease here and there, and he wore a set of coveralls. The eyes on the lower ends of his triangular face peered at the two young women through a pair of goggles.

"Welcome to my bay." The Aleena glanced at their ship, and Anya noted a gleam of intrigue light his eyes. "I am Towan Sa-Vin, and the price is dependent on how long you wish to stay."

"We aren't sure how long we will be here," Shmi replied. "We can pay some now, and a fee on a more regular basis once we get some work."

Towan narrowed his eyes at them. "Are you looking to move to Ord Mantell?"

"Not exactly." Shmi was cautious to not give away too much information. "We are looking for something, and we may be here a while."

Towan looked suspicious. "I want the money up front then. I do not trust newcomers."

"What is the price?"

"Four hundred credits for a week," Towan said instantly.

Shmi and Anya exchanged a look that Towan did not miss.

"Ah, you cannot pay," he said, reading them with surprising ease. "I am sorry, but you need to park elsewhere."

"Wait," Shmi said, moving one step closer. "What if we make a different arrangement?"

Towan offered a suspicious look, but motioned for her to speak.

"I am great with ships, droids and anything mechanical." Shmi gestured about them. "As part of our fee, I would be willing to help with things around your bay part-time."

Towan straightened, his suspicion clearing to show greater interest. "You don't say? How much experience do you have?"

"I have been doing ship and droid maintenance since I was seven." Shmi allowed a note of pride to color her tone. "I also come from a family that is gifted in such things, and I guarantee quality work."

Towan considered her offer. "I will accept two hundred credits now, and your offer of help three days a week. You will work in my shop a minimum of fifteen days, each day for at least five hours, agreed?"

Shmi looked to Anya, who appeared thoughtful. The two moved a few feet away to talk.

"What do you think, Anya?" Shmi inquired.

Anya pursed her lips. "This could work. I also think that this would offer us a bit more security for our ship."

Shmi nodded. "I agree. What will you do while I work here?"

Anya shifted her weight. "I have a lot of waitressing experience. Why don't we each help the other learn a new trade? I can teach you how to waitress, and you can teach me more things like ship maintenance?"

"Deal." Shmi agreed, lowering her voice substantially. "We also need to find time to hone your Force abilities."

Anya nodded. "But only in the privacy of the ship, agreed?"

"Yes."

They turned to Towan and approached, each offering a hand.

"We accept." Shmi informed him. "My friend here will help me as she is able."

Towan glanced to Anya. "You have experience also?"

"Not as much as her, but yes."

"I will make sure she does a good job also." Shmi assured him.

Towan considered and then nodded. "Alright, you have yourself a deal. I will give you two days to find work, and then I want you to start your first shift."

"Thank you."

"What are your names?" Towan asked as Anya handed over the correct amount.

"I am Ashlyn," Shmi indicated herself, and then gestured to Anya, "and this is Raziel."

"Well, do be careful out there." Towan softened. "I have three daughters, and I would hate for them to be harmed. But this is where we live, so we make do."

Shmi nodded. "Thank you, we will be careful."

Towan waved and disappeared.

The two ladies shared one more look and then left, but only after Shmi ensured that her father's ship was indeed secure. They both made absolute certain they could find their way back to the bay, and even jotted down the address and name before they ventured away.

Anya kept a keen eye out for any promising establishments. They would need some place where spacers frequented, which would allow them the greatest opportunities to listen in on chatter.

Spacers, Anya knew, loved to talk about the latest news, especially once they'd had a few rounds of ale.

"What about there?" Shmi asked, pointing to a building that seemed to be a cross between a full-out bar and an actual restaurant. The sign pegged it as the Lorelei.

Anya changed course. "Let's go check it out. Keep your eyes and ears open, alright? Try to look like you belong, and fewer people will hassle you."

"Got it," Shmi replied, following Anya into the establishment.

Once inside, the two found that it was actually a pub that served a full menu of items along with the bar.

I guess drunks get hungry a lot. Shmi thought, having little experience with such matters. Shmi's parents had of course never allowed Shmi into places like these, except on very rare occasions. Shmi was actually reminded of the time Luke had taken Shmi into Chalmun's Spaceport Cantina on Tatooine. That had been right after the destruction of their homestead, and Ben Kenobi had accompanied them.

It had also been where Luke and Shmi had met both Han and Chewie. Shmi smiled softly at the memory of how Chewie and Han had both been so nice to her. And Han had even thought to protect Shmi from possible kidnapping.

Shmi noted that Anya seemed to be much more comfortable here, and she even seemed to know exactly how to act. Shmi came even with her and spoke above the din.

"Are you used to cantinas?"

"I worked in one before," Anya admitted, "when I was sixteen. It was another world where the laws were... more like guidelines than actual rules." She paused. "I lasted six months before the authorities came in. My boss told me to run so he didn't get caught using a minor to serve alcohol."

Shmi blinked. "You worked in a bar at sixteen?"

Anya gave her a pained look. "I had very little choice. Can we talk about this later please?"

Shmi nodded. "Want to check out other places to weigh our options against?"

Anya motioned for the door. "A good idea."

They cased four more restaurants, all within walking distance of the bay, but none of them had the class of people they needed. Anya and Shmi stopped at the mouth of an alleyway.

"So what do you think?" Anya asked Shmi. "Want to try our luck at the Lorelei?"

Shmi looked about them. "I think that would be our best bet." She then hesitated. "Mom and Dad will kill me over this..."

Anya softened. "I know, but as long as you yourself do not drink, I think you'll be alright."

Shmi sighed. "I know. I don't know anything about this line of work, Anya."

"Maybe we can work something out, where you only deliver food, or maybe you can bus tables?" Anya suggested.

Shmi tilted her head. "What's that?"

"It's the people who clear and set tables between patrons," Anya explained patiently. "You would also probably help with cleaning dishes and such."

Shmi felt her conscience clear somewhat. "Now that sounds more like my speed."

Anya smiled. "I started out that way too. Come on; let's go find the manager at the Lorelei."

They returned to said place and walked up to the first employee they could find, who they spoke with about seeing the manager. Minutes later, a Kel Dor with peach skin appeared, his face masked at the mouth by a respirator. It allowed his species to breathe safely in oxygen-rich atmospheres.

"Good day, my name is Grafan Thif. I am both the manager and owner. You wished to speak with me?"

"Yes." Anya indicated herself and Shmi. "We would like to work here for a time."

The Kel Dor straightened. "Really? Well, come with me, we will talk in my office."

The young women followed Grafan to his office, which was thankfully quieter than the main floor. It also sat on a second floor, with a large one-way window overlooking the eating area.

"Now," Grafan began, taking a seat and indicating that they should too, "let's begin with an age. How old are you?"

"Old enough to work on your floor," Anya replied.

Grafan narrowed his eyes. "This planet may be mostly lawless, but I take pride in being a civil man."

Anya studied him openly, and then sat forward. "My friend here is eighteen, and I will be in a few days time."

Grafan relaxed. "Well, that's closed enough for me. What experience do you have in waitressing?"

"I have three years of experience, and my friend here would be new, but I am willing to train her."

Shmi spoke next. "I can also bus tables or whatnot."

Grafan sat back, lacing his fingers together. "I do have need of both, actually. How long would you be working for me?"

"We do not know." Anya admitted. "But at least for a few weeks."

Grafan shook his head. "Short-term only? I don't know. I need long-term help."

"We are not here permanently." Shmi told him. "We just need work to help us get by for now."

Grafan still looked uncertain. "My establishment has been hurting for help, and I do not want to take on more help just to lose it again."

"Why don't you hire us for now, at least until you do find a permanent replacement?" Anya suggested. "We can fill in temporarily while you keep your eyes out for a full-time employee."

Grafan blew out a breath through his rebreather. "I will need time to consider this. Please come back tomorrow and I will give you my answer."

Anya and Shmi stood. "That's fair. Thank you."

After they were back on the Nebula, Shmi turned expectantly to Anya. "So... you worked at a bar while under aged?"

Anya let a somewhat forceful breath out through her nose. "Yes. Listen, Shmi: like Ignis, I haven't had the best past. When I was on my own and hiding from Vexa, I had to do what it took to stay alive and safe. That often meant never staying in one place for too long; and taking jobs I wouldn't exactly be proud of. But I scraped by."

At Shmi's growing sense of discomfort, Anya frowned. "What?"

"When you say you aren't proud of some jobs..." Shmi hesitated, and then plowed on, needing to know. "Does that mean you used your body to please others?"

Anya made a face. "Stars no! I didn't go that far, Shmi."

Shmi went red in the face. "I'm sorry, but I had to ask."

Anya looked a little hurt. "What do you take me for?"

Shmi now felt horrible. "I'm sorry, Anya. That was really insensitive of me."

"Yes, it was." Anya agreed quietly, turning around and taking a seat on the other side of the ship's lobby.

Shmi kicked herself and sat next to Anya, placing a hand over Anya's.

"Hey, you and Ignis have so much more experience in the real world than I do." Shmi told her friend. "Sometimes I envy that of you both."

Anya frowned once again, but deeper this time. "Why would you envy that?"

"Because you are both so much more mature than I am." Shmi admitted. "I grew up sheltered, whether my parents realize it or not. You and Ignis did not have that choice, and it's given you wisdom I will never posses."

Anya shook her head. "Shmi, I cannot believe that you are complaining about living in a happy family, free of the hell that Ignis and I have been forced to endure."

It was Shmi's turn to frown. "I am not complaining; I am simply trying to apologize."

Anya sat back, her expression clouded. "That was supposed to be an apology?"

Shmi ran a hand down her face, embarrassed thoroughly. "Maybe I just need to stop talking. Look, I was just trying to make you feel better. I really do admire the maturity you have. I see it and wish I had it too. There are times I still feel like the seven year old I was in the war with the Empire."

Anya softened. "Shmi, be grateful that you've had the life you have. I have wondered every single day about my parents: if they looked for me, if they still hold out hope for my return. Did they have another child? Do they believe me dead?" Anya closed her eyes, a deep well of sorrow becoming more evident. "Should I ever go back?"

Shmi made to speak, but Anya sensed this and held up a hand to forestall her.

"My point is, be careful what you wish for: you may not like what you get." Anya opened her eyes. "Ignis and I are more mature and have more experience, but you also know the price we have both paid for what you called wisdom. And the price we still pay."

Shmi nodded, suitably chastened. "I didn't mean to sound petulant. I just... wish I could be better-rounded like you. You seem to be much better equipped to be out in the galaxy than I am."

"The only way to change that is for you to experience the galaxy at large." Anya reminded her friend gently. "And for the record, you are far more mature and well-rounded than you give yourself credit for."

Shmi smiled, grateful for Anya's kind words. "You really are a great friend, Anya."

Anya felt her heart lighten. "So are you. I am sorry for getting upset; it's just... hard to talk about things sometimes."

Shmi inclined her head. "I get it, really I do."

They sat for a moment, and then Shmi cast about with the Force. "Nobody is around. How about we do some Force practice to pass the time?"

Anya perked up. "Alright."

00000

Mara sat before the communications console in the Skywalker home, eyes fastened on the light that would indicate a missed call or message. But it was still dark, and with every passing day it grew harder and harder for Mara to simply sit here and wait.

When would Shmi contact them to let her family know she was alright? When would she realize that she didn't have to do things alone?

Why had Mara's little girl left them like that?

Yes, at first, Mara had admitted that it was her own stubborn anger that had driven Shmi away. Hers and Luke's both.

But as time passed, Mara struggled with the desire to go out and find Shmi. She knew she could... but should she? Mara had the ability to track down anyone, and she had maintained her skills learned under Palpatine to go with her Jedi training.

Mara may be a mother, and her priorities may have shifted as a result, but she was not weak and helpless. She never would be.

And neither is Shmi. She told herself. Luke and I taught her well.

Mara paused. Maybe I taught her a little too well.

Mara just wanted to know that Shmi was okay: the mother in her aching to just hear the girl's voice.

To ask why the mother had missed her oldest child's coming-of-age lifeday?

Did Shmi think that Mara was going to be so angry with her that she would not want to hear from her daughter? Mara did not care, and never had, that Shmi was not of Mara's flesh and blood. Shmi was her daughter in far more important ways.

Shmi had been the first person to soften Mara's once-cold heart. Shmi had been her very first actual friend.

Mara had never forgotten the day Shmi and she had met: the girl's sweet blue eyes focused on Mara with such concern and kindness. Mara recalled the pigtails the girl had loved to wear her hair in, and how they had bounced with her movements.

Shmi had trusted and believe in Mara. Even and especially when Han and Leia had doubted the red-head: had started to resent her once Mara's secret had been revealed to them. Shmi had been Mara's first concern long before she had even considered parenthood.

Mara sighed and reached for the controls on the console, her mind returning to the present. Ben and Emry were both at school, and Kodai was asleep. After depressing some buttons, Mara opted to send out a message instead of a call to Shmi.

Inputting the codes for the Nebula, Mara drafted her message and sent it.

Then she left the station and settled down to meditate. As she did so, Mara's mind longingly went to another connection she had: one that had been far too quiet of late.

Where was Luke in his search for answers? Had he found anything yet? Was he struggling?

He had not completely ignored her, of course. Luke would never do that to Mara. However, he had asked her for some time to himself mentally, telling her that he was going to be doing some deep meditation that would require no interruptions.

Her husband had also promised to contact her when he was done. That had been only a week after he'd left, and she had not heard from him since.

Mara left Luke be, but felt the loneliness begin to weigh her down. She missed Shmi and Luke, and it hurt to think that their family might be pulling apart even a little.

But Mara was determined to remain strong, and she would do whatever it took to keep her family in one piece. For now, that meant allowing Luke and Shmi the time and space they needed. It also meant that Mara had to be there for Ben, Emry and Kodai.

Rising from her seated position, Mara moved into some physical exercises, welcoming the task that would help her feel revitalized.

00000

Emry sat upon the bench farthest from the door, lightsaber hilt still in hand. The instructor had just called for a break, and Emry was grateful, for she needed to take a few moments to rest.

She could feel her airways beginning to strain, a sensation that she was intimately familiar with. She wished she knew how she could be better at lightsaber technique without suffering for it in her respiratory system.

She had actually improved from where she had been before her trip to Orinda with her father. Still, the other kids in her class were a few steps ahead of her physically. Then again, the rest of them did not have asthma.

As her airways continued to stiffen and constrict, Emry felt the weight of her inhaler like a stone in her pocket. It called to her for use, and yet she didn't want to pull it out: especially not when she had an audience.

A small gaggle of the original group that had bullied Emry before had started up their antics again. Once they had realized that both Luke an Ignis were absent, and had been for some time, they had picked up where they had left off.

They had recently begun to sit in at class, and watch the students practice with their lightsabers. Emry was their favorite to watch, of course, so they could continue to hassle her; bringing up the fresh, juicy material.

Emry had not said anything to her mother, knowing that Mara had enough on her plate. Ben knew, of course, but Emry had asked him to keep it to himself also, which he had done since he too was struggling with things.

But the bullying was getting to the point where Emry did not want to leave class afterwards, because that meant that she would eventually run into her tormentors.

"Alright, class, let's get back to it." The elderly Jedi Master who taught Emry's class called out. He did not yell, and yet thanks to a Force technique he used, his voice carried perfectly about the room so all could hear.

Emry looked to the white-skinned Cosian man, Porro Tane, who had come out of hiding on Belkadan, where he had remained in the wilderness. While he'd been there, the man had not been idle. No; he had used the time in hiding to store up all of the knowledge he had in matters of the Force. He had not shared any of that with Luke or Mara, of course, until after he'd been assured that they were the real deal.

Master Porro had been in his prime when the Clone Wars ended, and it was only because he had been on an assignment far from any clones that he had survived. When he'd tried to return to Coruscant, he had heard the warning to not go back.

Master Porro had thus gone into hiding and had remained there, knowing that someone had to preserve the memory of the Jedi Order and their knowledge of the Force. When he'd presented his vast stores of journals and such, Luke and Mara had been ecstatic. Luke had of course poured over everything Master Porro had offered, even learning skills taught by the Cosian.

Emry did not remember much of that time, only that Luke had often been seen with one of said journals in his grasp.

"Miss Skywalker, is everything alright?"

Emry shook her head swiftly, looking up to find that Master Porro was now standing before her... while everyone else was working with their remotes again.

Emry blushed deeply. "Sorry Master Porro. I guess I lost focus."

She stood and moved away before her instructor could question her further. Emry activated first her remote and then the lightsaber. It swished about her at random, and Emry opened to the Force, trusting it.

This part was easy: Emry knew how to trust the Force. In fact, trust in the Force seemed to come easily to Emry. What she struggled with as the physical side of lightsaber combat. And of course, her airways were not yet relaxed, so she had begun to wheeze a little.

Closing her eyes momentarily, Emry pictured Ignis standing there, giving her an encouraging smile and telling her she could do it. She pictured the drawing he had given her, and how warm it made her feel...

Emry heard the Force whisper to her, and she maneuvered her lightsaber, then again... and again... and again...

Left, right, back, fore, right, left, back again...

It was at the three-quarter mark that it abruptly dawned on Emry that she had not been struck by any of the blasts yet. When she realized that she was moving toward a perfect score for the first time ever, Emry started to laugh.

But her laughter swiftly turned in to a choke, which disrupted her connection with the Force... which in turn caused her to miss the final blasts from the remote. All of the final strikes hit her, and Emry felt the stings acutely.

She dropped to her knees, her hands shaking as she finally, reluctantly admitted that she needed her inhaler. Emry shakily withdrew the item and put it to her lips.

She didn't realize that the other students and Master Porro had all stopped, and the instructor was heading her way. She only focused on her airways, feeling it when they relaxed at last. Emry coughed a few times, her eyes watering.

Only then did she realize that she had an audience. Emry looked around with growing horror, and her emotions spiked when her gaze landed upon the bullies. They were smirking in her direction, and the ringleader was even laughing outright.

"Miss Emry?" Master Porro said.

"Master Porro, I am alright." Emry was swift to stand, turning her back on everyone and activating the remote again. "It was just a little hiccup."

She intentionally moved away from him, but to her confusion the remote deactivated.

"Class is dismissed for today." Master Porro announced. "All of you, move on to your next classes."

Emry started to do as he'd said, but the man held up a hand. "Please wait."

Emry stopped, seeing peripherally when the bullies left. She relaxed only a hair, staring at the floor.

"Yes Master Porro?" Emry asked quietly.

"My dear, that was an impressive performance with your blade," the Jedi Master said, an undeniable note of praise in his voice.

Emry looked up. "But I messed it up."

"No, your asthma struck." He corrected.

Emry looked away. "What's the difference? I still can't progress."

"You can and you are."

Emry's mouth twisted downward. "No, I am not."

"Then what did you call that just now?"

"A mistake." Emry bit out, her embarrassment making her lash out.

"You improved your score by six points, Miss Emry." Master Porro informed her. "That is impressive."

"But I probably won't be able to keep it that way." Emry argued. "So what good does that do me?"

"May I ask you what you did differently this time?" The Jedi Master inquired.

Emry blinked, considering. She had been focusing on Ignis: that was what she had been doing differently. She had focused on the love she felt for him, that of a sister to a brother... and on how he made her feel in that regards.

"I guess I found something to give my spirit a boost," Emry murmured almost to herself.

"Well, whatever it was, consider trying it again in the future." Master Porro smiled. "Let's see if we can't keep the improvements going, alright?"

Emry nodded. "Alright."

"And in the future, please also use your inhaler instead of letting your asthma maintain its hold on you for so long." The man reprimanded gently. "I could sense your struggle, Miss Emry. It is unwise to push your body like that in your condition."

Emry's dour mood returned in full force at that statement, and all she could do was nod. Once the man let her leave, Emry did so with haste. She kept her head down the rest of the day, only looking at the teacher or her books.

When school at long last ended for the day, Emry took her time in packing her belongings into her backpack. The students all filed out swiftly, and soon the room was quiet. Emry noted that the teacher also left the room, her coffee mug in hand.

Once she was truly alone, Emry simply sat where she was, her chest tightening in a way that had nothing at all to do with her asthma. With the sensation, her stomach churned, and Emry pondered simply staying put indefinitely.

But if her teacher found her still in here, she'd ask questions. And if Mara had to come looking for her daughter, there would definitely be some things brought up that Emry wasn't ready for.

So now she had to risk walking the halls... where the bullies would be.

With a shuddering breath, Emry stood, collected her things and walked slowly from the room. There were only two ways to the main floor: the turbolift and the stairs. Emry decided to risk taking the stairs, which were a few corridors away.

She walked with her head down, trying to hide her face with her books without being obvious about it. Emry made it nearly to the stairway when she rounded the final corner... and ahead of her were the very kids she dreaded seeing.

"Ah, there she is!" A snobby female voice rang out. "The girl of the hour!"

Emry's stomach sank to her toes, yet she forced her feet to keep moving her forward. It was too late to turn around: they had already seen her. Emry kept her eyes on the floor, hoping that she could get passed the gaggle of kids unscathed today.

The voice belonged to Wina Bibble, the ringleader of the bullies. Her dark eyes always seemed to look upon Emry with open disdain, even though Emry had never done anything against Wina. The pale pink-skinned Zeltron girl was a year older than Emry, and always wore her silver hair in a fancy do.

To her surprise, Emry got halfway through their ranks without incident, and she began to wonder if she could possibly be that lucky. But then someone made a strange noise in their throat.

Emry looked up, her natural inclination being to make sure whoever it was wasn't sick. But then others joined in on the noise, and Emry realized that the kids were pretending to choke like Emry had in class.

Emry's stomach, which was still at her feet, twisted, and she couldn't help but look around. When her eyes landed on Wina, the pink-skinned girl had her hands to her throat, a theatrical expression on her face.

"Oh no guys..." Wina mocked, "I... I can't breathe!"

Emry's face flushed as laughter rang out, and she turned back around. But Emry hadn't gone three steps when a boy pretended like he'd just been struck by something.

"Ow!" he cried, and another boy made shooting noises, with the first continuing to cry out as if he'd been stung. "Ow...ow!"

Emry's throat closed, and she finally pushed her way past the group, making it to the stairway. As her feet touched the first step, Wina called after her.

"Keep up the good work... Miss Emry!"

Emry buried her face deeper into her books, and felt tears sting her eyes. Emry did not want to cry, because she didn't want to have to explain why she was doing so to her mother. Emry closed her eyes and worked to hold back her sorrow.

Sadly, she had become very adept at it, managing to hold in her tears until bedtime most nights. But it was getting harder to do, and with Ben able to read her so well— being her twin and all— he probably wouldn't put up with Emry's silence for much longer.

Emry forced her tears to the back of her throat, marching silently to the spot where her mother would pick her up. Ben and Mara were already there, and Emry couldn't bring herself to smile.

She walked right past her family and straight into the speeder. She didn't see Ben and Mara exchange a look, but she did hear it when Mara and Ben took their seats.

"Emry, what's wrong?" Mara inquired, her concern wafting to Emry in the Force.

Emry hesitated, wondering what to do. What if she only told part of the problem? Mara already knew that Emry struggled with her lightsaber skills, after all.

"I'm not getting any better with my lightsaber," Emry muttered. "No matter what I do, I cannot pass the skill level I am at."

Mara touched her shoulder. "Sweetie, you are doing fine."

"Yeah, I heard from Master Porro that you were only five shots away from a perfect score today." Ben added, trying to cheer her up.

Emry had to admit that she was grateful for that, and she drew strength from her family. Turning, Emry smiled softly.

"I was pretty close, actually." Emry's smile faded. "But my asthma got in the way... as usual."

Mara sighed softly, and piloted them home. Once they were all inside, Mara drew Emry into a hug.

"Sweetheart, I know it's hard to deal with the asthma," Mara murmured, "but you need to stop focusing on your... challenge."

Emry clung to Mara. "I hate my asthma Mom! I hate it!"

Mara knelt before Emry, touching her chin. "Please try to focus on the good. Emry, we all have our trials, we each have things we have to learn to overcome. This is yours."

Emry shook her head. "Why does this one have to be mine?"

Mara knew why, of course, and her heart clenched as she remembered Palpatine trying to get into her womb all those years ago. Mara did not know if telling Emry that little truth would help or make things worse.

Instead, Mara chose a different tactic. "We are all given obstacles to overcome, Emry. You know, your father dealt with abandonment while still living with his family. And I grew up without any true friends, living under the thumb of a ruthless master."

Emry sniffled. "I know. I don't like to complain, but my asthma is keeping me from reaching my full potential!"

"Is it?" Mara asked sagely, and Emry frowned.

"What does that mean?" Emry asked in confusion.

Mara stood, giving her daughter a piercing look. "I will allow you to puzzle that one out. You'll get it when you're ready to."

Emry stared after her mother, and then catching a glimpse of Ben, who was looking at her in a familiar manner. Emry only shook her head and went to her room, closing herself inside.