"Luke?"
The voice came softly but insistently. He could feel the presence before him. But it wasn't as strong as years prior. He could feel his deconstructed lightsaber floating before him, as well as all the living force throughout the palace. Yet oddly enough , he could barely feel him. Luke Skywalker opened his eyes from his meditation, curious.
A familiar figure stood there watching him. "Hello, Ben", Luke said with a hint of glee and sadness as he watched his lightsaber reconstruct itself and place itself back on the ground in front of him, "Been a long time."
"Indeed it has," the voice of Obi-wan Kenobi said gravely, "Yet, I'm afraid this will be our last encounter."
"Our last? No Ben, don't say that—", Luke began to say. He could feel a lump in his throat when he was about to speak.
"The distance between us has become too great for me, Luke. Now, even this last path is being closed to me." Obi-wan said with great sadness in his voice, "It is time, we said goodbye."
Luke looked up at the fading apparition of his former master. "You can't leave us, Ben," he pleaded, "We still need you." Obi-wan's eyebrows lifted slightly in amusement and he gave a weak smile. He placed his transparent hand on Luke's shoulder, though Luke didn't feel anything. "Luke," he said softly, "You don't need me. You are a Jedi." The smile faded, and for a moment his eyes lingered on Luke. "It's the way of all life, Luke, you too will face this journey one day."
"I wish we had more time," Luke said sincerely, "I still need guidance, Ben. Not only for my sake, but for my sister's as well."
"The decision is not mine to make, Luke," Obi-wan said softly, "I have already lingered far too long, and I can no longer postpone my journey from this life to what lies beyond."
Luke couldn't help but shed a tear. A memory stirred: Yoda on his deathbed, and Luke pleading with him to not die. Strong I am in the force, the Jedi Master told him softly, but not that strong. He already lost Ben once, and despite his years of training and mastery, he wasn't ready to lose him again. "Remember," Obi-wan spoke again, "Never let your guard down. Although the Emperor and the Sith have been destroyed, the dark side is still powerful. Never forget that."
"I won't," Luke promised. He saw the spirit of Obi-wan Kenobi get back up and looked towards the distant setting sun. Obi-wan turned back around one last time. "Until we meet again, old friend," he said with hope and wonder, "May the force be with you." And with that, the spirit of Obi-wan Kenobi faded away into the sea of nothingness.
For a moment, Luke sat there staring at where his former master once stood. Then I am alone, Luke thought inwardly to himself, the last of the Jedi. He seemed to hear Obi-wan's voice from a distance, barely even audible. "Not the last of the old Jedi, Luke. But the first of the new." And then the voice was gone, replaced with silence. With a sigh, Luke stood up and stretched his legs. Clipping his lightsaber to his belt, he walked out of the old meditation chamber.
He toured the vast empty halls of the old Jedi Temple—now Imperial Palace, that had been forgotten by the people of Coruscant. Echoes of his steps filled the eerie silence as he walked past empty libraries, once filled with knowledge, now lost for eternity. Luke felt a rush of sadness overcome him, wondering how the temple must've been like during its prime. Back when Yoda, Obi-wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker roamed these halls.
Luke shivered as he continued to roam the halls. Despite it being the former Jedi temple, this place was strong with the dark side. It reminded him of the cave on Dagobah—the cave where Luke fought a lightsaber duel with a Darth Vader who turned out to be himself. For weeks after that memory of sheer power and presence of the dark side had haunted his thoughts; only much later had he realized that Yoda's primary reason for the exercise had been to show him how far he still had to go.
Still, he often wondered how the cave had come to be the way it had. Wondered perhaps someone or something strong in the dark side had once lived there.
As the Emperor had lived once here…
Luke shivered again. The really maddening part was that he could feel the horrors that once occurred here so long ago. If he stood still in a room long enough, he could hear the faint cries of agony that sent shivers up his back. Mon Mothma had given him the Imperial Palace as a gift, to symbolize the Jedi's great return. While he was thankful for this gift, he believed Mon Mothma had gave him the Imperial Palace simply because no one felt comfortable within it. Not even Leia.
Luke paused as he saw through a window the growing night sky cover the endless city landscape. Coruscant was not the ideal place for the Jedi, Luke thought to himself. The symbolism was all wrong, for one thing, particularly for a group which—in his opinion—already had a tendency to pay too much attention to symbols. He felt isolated from the galaxy, hidden away in a luxurious temple that stood tall amongst the luxurious city landscape. Far away from all the beings that needed aid. Though, he had to admit, the view was spectacular.
He entered the old Jedi Council chamber. Its doors creaked open after years of negligence. It had remained intact, despite all these years later. Twelve chairs sat before him–in a semicircle that spanned the entire room. Through the windows he could see Coruscant blooming with life. Lights glittering from the tall skyscrapers and the Imperial Senate chamber out near the horizon, the flow of traffic, almost looked like a work of art. He wondered how it must have been like to be a council member in the past. Seeing the growth of Coruscant and its beauty everyday. He inspected the chairs and noticed some were larger than others, while some were smaller and more compact. He imagined Master Yoda seated in one of the smaller chairs, leading and directing the Jedi. He wondered if Obi-wan and his father, Anakin Skywalker, ever sat as council members before the Sith and the Empire rose to power.
Luke sat in one of the chairs. The view was facing towards the center of the room. He imagined being able to see other Jedi seated in the unoccupied chairs. And perhaps, he wondered, students or government officials standing at the center of the room. He grimaced. It didn't feel right. Comfort-wise, the chair was fine, in fact, it was very comfortable. But symbolically, it didn't feel like a chair a Jedi Master should use at all, rather it felt more or less like a throne. One that was used to judge those lesser than him. And he didn't like that feeling. A Jedi must put the needs of others before their own needs. They also can't get so caught up in matters of galactic importance that it interferes with the concerns of the people.
This, Luke theorized, is why the Jedi fell. They were blinded by their own ego and arrogance, being pushed into a war they shouldn't have been a part of, allowing the Emperor—Darth Sidious, to rise to power right under their noses. He would make sure that the new Jedi Order learns all about their predecessor's mistake and stray onto a new path. Or at least, he had to try. For Leia, and for her unborn twins. "I promise," Luke said to the empty council chamber, "I will make things right. The next generation of Jedi will learn from your mistakes, as well as mine, and we'll correct them. The new Jedi will strive to become the protectors of peace that this galaxy has lost so long ago. And even after my passing from this realm to the next, they will continue to be the beacon of hope for all of the galaxy, for as long as the force wills it." Slowly, Luke got back up and marched away. Taking one last glance at the old Jedi Council chamber, hoping that one day the Jedi Order will indeed return, before sealing it shut.
Halfway across Coruscant, Leia Organa Solo stirred awake. Her stomach twisted, just noticeably. "It's all right," she soothed, rubbing her hand gently across her belly. "It's all right." The twisting eased. She reached out with the force, sensing the two small lives inside her. They were strong in the force, Luke had said it himself. She looked over at the empty side of her bed, and sighed.
Han was gone for three months now, and she missed him dearly. She could feel the twins sense the sadness radiating off her. Her stomach twisted again. "I know," she spoke to them, "I miss him too." The New Republic had sent Han and Chewbacca on a contact mission near the outer-rim. However, when reports were coming in that a Elomin task force had vanished near the outer-rim, Leia began to worry.
She didn't know if Han was still alive. She had tried to feel him through the force, but her training was limited. With all the missions and meetings Mon Mothma was giving her, she didn't really have the time to continue her Jedi training. She reluctantly got out of the bed and slowly paced towards the window. She could see the Imperial Palace not far away, wondering what Luke was doing there at this hour of the night.
Across the room, the slide door opened to a tall woman in a dressing robe. "Your highness?" she called softly, brushing her shimmering white hair back from her eyes. "Are you alright?"
Leia sighed, "Come on in, Winter. How long have you been listening at the door?"
"I haven't been listening," Winter said as she glided into the room, sounding almost offended that Leia would even suggest such a thing of her. "I saw the lights coming from under your door and thought you might need something."
"I'm fine," Leia assured her, wondering if this woman ever ceased to amaze her. Awakened during the middle of the night, dressed in an old robe with her hair in total disarray. Winter still looked more regal than Leia herself could manage on her best days. Despite her being three years younger than Leia, it didn't stop the countless times when visitors at the Viceroy's court back on Alderaan, would assume Winter was, in fact, the Princess Leia.
Winter had probably not lost track of each and every one of those interactions. Anyone who could remember whole conversations verbatim should certainly be able to reconstruct the number of times she'd been mistaken for a royal princess.
Leia had often wondered what the rest of the Provisional High Council members would think if they knew that the silent assistant sitting next to her at official meetings or standing beside her at unofficial corridor conversations was effectively recording every word they said. Some of them, she suspected, wouldn't like that at all.
"Are you sure you don't need anything, Leia?" Winter asked again.
"No, thank you," Leia shook her head, "My stomach isn't really bothering me at the moment. I'm just . . . I'm worried."
Winter nodded. "Of Luke? Or of Han?"
Leia frowned. "I honestly can't tell anymore." In truth, she didn't really know what worried her. So many things have happened over the past few months, that it was hard to see what made her upset. It ranged from either the New Republic moving into the Imperial Capital on Coruscant, Luke's stress about her nine week pregnancy, Han over at another side of the galaxy, or of the mysterious new threat that caused the Elomin task force over at Obroa-Skai to go missing.
Leia squeezed thumb and forefinger together, a wave of anger-filled loneliness sweeping over her. With more and more of her time being up by the enormous task of setting up a new government, there were days she didn't even have time to eat, let alone see her husband even when he was here. Nor did she have the time to be with her brother Luke to continue her Jedi training. The flash of anger disappeared, dissolved into guilt.
It's my job, Leia reminded herself firmly; and it was a job that, unfortunately, only she could do. Unlike virtually all the others in the Alliance hierarchy, she had had extensive training in both the theory and practice of politics. She'd grown up in the royal house of Alderaan, learning about systemwide rule from her foster father, Bail Organa—learning it so well that while she was just a teen, she was already representing him in the Imperial Senate. Without her expertise, this whole operation could easily collapse. Particularly in these early stages of the New Republic's formation. A few more months—just a few more months—and she'd be able to ease off. She'll make it all up to Han and Luke then.
The guilt faded. But the loneliness still remained.
"You should probably get some sleep now," Leia quietly told Winter, "We have a long day tomorrow."
Winter arched her eyebrows slightly. "There's another meeting?" she whined playfully.
"Now, now," Leia admonished, mock-seriously. "You are far too young to be a cynic. I mean it now–off to bed with you."
"All right. Goodnight your highness." Winter glided out, closing the door behind her. Sliding down flat on the bed, Leia readjusted the blankets over her and shifted the pillows into a more comfortable position. "Goodnight to you two, too," Leia said softly to her babies, giving her belly a gentle rub. Han had suggested that anyone who talked to their own stomach were slightly nuts. But then again, she suspected Han believed everyone was slightly nuts.
She missed him terribly.
With a sigh, she reached over to the nightstand and turned off the lights. Eventually, she fell asleep.
Across the galaxy on Takodana, Han Solo sipped at his mug and surveyed the semi-organized chaos flowing all around him. The musty atmosphere filled his lungs. It wasn't quite like the Mos Eisley Cantina back on Tatooine, but Maz's castle was quite spectacular on its own accord. For one thing, it was quite luxurious for a cantina filled with scum and villainy. Han had never met Maz Kanata—the owner of the castle; instead a young green Nautolon, named Cere, ran the business. The rumors he heard about Maz Kanata were interesting to say the least. Some told him that Maz was over a thousand years old, others simply mentioned that Maz Kanata was nothing more than an old tale told by Cere to keep the business afloat.
Besides him, Chewbacca growled softly. "Relax, he'll be here," Han told him, "It's just Dravis. I don't think that man has ever been on time for anything in his whole life."
Slowly, he let his eyes drift over the crowd. Whoever had taken over Jabba the Hutt's organization must have moved operations off of Tatooine and Takodana. There were virtually no smugglers to be seen. Turning to peer at the cantina's door, Han made a mental note to ask Dravis about it.
He was still gazing off to the side when a shadow fell across the table. "Hello, Solo," a snickering voice said.
Han gave himself a three-count before turning casually to face the voice. "Dravis," he nodded, "Long time no see, old friend. Have a seat."
"Sure," Dravis said with a grin. He pulled out his blaster, pointing it directly at Han's face. "Soon as you and the wookie both put your hands on the table."
Han gave him an injured look. "Oh come on," he said, reaching up to cradle his mug with both hands. "You think I'd invite you all the way here just to shoot you? We're old buddies, remember?"
"Sure we are," Dravis said, throwing Chewbacca an appraising glance as he sat down. "But you've gone respectable now, Solo."
Han shrugged eloquently. "Respectable's such a vague word."
"Maybe I should be more specific," Dravis cocked an eyebrow, "You joined the Rebel Alliance, became a general and married a former Alderannian princess who's a Jedi in training. And you got yourself a set of twins on the way."
Han waved a self-deprecating hand. "Actually, I resigned the general part a year ago."
Dravis snorted, "Forgive me, Captain. So what is this then? Some kind of warning?"
Han frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
"Don't play innocent, Solo," Dravis chuckled, "New Republic replaces Empire. Freedom, democracy—all nice and sweet and dandy, except for us smuggler fellas. So if this is an official invitation to cease and desist, let me spit at your face and get out of here." He started to get up.
"It's nothing like that, Dravis!" Han said immediately, "As a matter of fact, we were hoping to hire you."
Dravis froze. "What?" he asked warily.
"You heard right. Believe it or not, we're looking into hiring smugglers."
Slowly, Dravis sat back down, his hand still on his blaster. "This better not have to do with your fight with the Empire. Because if it is—"
"It isn't," Han assured him. "Simply put, the New Republic is low on cargo ships at the moment. Especially experienced cargo pilots and crew. Not to mention it'll be a quick way to earn honest money."
Dravis seemed to think about it. "What's the catch?"
Han smiled inwardly. Despite Dravis's rough attitude, he knew the man would always do what was right, even unconsciously knowing it. "No catch," he said, "We need ships and pilots to get the intergalactic trade going again. That's all there is to it."
Dravis chewed the inside of his cheek, his eyes never leaving Han. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I wouldn't have come if I didn't trust you. Well—maybe I was curious to see what schemes you were cooking up this time. I might check it out, but let me tell you up front, a lot of others in my group won't."
"Why not?"
"You've gone respectable," Dravis laughed loudly, "You've been out of the game for far too long." He pulled out some credits and placed them in front of Han. "Profits. They are what drives us, Solo. Profit and excitement."
"So you'd rather work in the imperial sector?" Han countered, trying to remember all those lessons in diplomacy that Leia had given him.
Draviss shrugged, "It pays." He said simply.
"For now, maybe," Han reminded him. "But their territory's have been shrinking for five years straight. And it keeps getting smaller. We're just about evenly matched now, you know, and our people are a lot more motivated to fight than all those stormtroopers."
"Maybe," Dravis admitted, he cocked an eyebrow. "But I've heard rumors that there's someone new in charge out there. Been giving you a lot of trouble—like at Obroa-skai. Awfully sloppy losing an entire Elomin task force like that."
Han gritted his teeth. "Just remember that anyone who gives us trouble is going to give you trouble, too." He leveled a finger at the other. "And if you think that the New Republic is hungry for cash, think how hungry the Empire is right now."
"Its certainly an adventure," Dravis agreed sincerely. "Well," he said, getting up on his feet, "It was nice seeing you again, Han. Give my regards to your princess for me."
Han sighed. It was, really, all he could have expected out of this meeting. "One other thing, Dravis. Who exactly is the big fish in the pond now that Jabba's gone?"
Dravis eyed him thoughtfully. "As far as I know, the Pyke Syndicate took over operations on Tatooine once Jabba was gone. But if you're looking for smugglers, Talon Karrde would be my best bet."
Han frowned. He had heard of Karrde, of course, but never with any hint that his organization was even in the top ten. Either Dravis was wrong, or Karrde was the type who believed in keeping a low profile. "Where can I find him?"
Dravis smiled slyly. "You'd like to know that, wouldn't you? Maybe I'll tell you one day."
"Dravis—"
"Gotta go, Solo. See you around Chewie." He turned around and headed back into the crowd.
Han grimaced as he watched him go. Still, at least Dravis had been willing to turn his back on them as he left. Most of the other smugglers he'd contacted hadn't trusted him that far. Progress, sort of.
Beside him, Chewbacca growled something derogatory. "They'll come around," Han shrugged, "Some of them, anyway. Dravis can blanther all he wants about profit and excitement; but when you offer them secure maintenance facilities, and no one is shooting at them, they'll get interested. Come on, let's get going."
He slid out of the booth and headed towards the exit. He placed a couple of credits at the bar. "Keep the change," he said nonchalantly. The young Nautolon instantly grabbed them.
"This better be the last time I see you, Solo," Cere warned, "Because if Maz finds out I had New Republic officials here, we're both dead meat." Han rolled his eyes at the empty threat. Maz or no Maz, his time here on Takodana was coming to an end. He grabbed his comlink and spoke into it. "Falcon, do you read me? Chewie and I need a pick up."
"Roger that, Captain Solo," a voice replied back.
After waiting a few minutes, the Millennium Falcon landed before them. Wedge Antilles walked out of the Falcon, running his fingers through his black hair. "So, how did it go?" Wedge asked as he allowed Han and Chewbacca to enter the Falcon.
"Not much I'm afraid," Han said swiftly. He walked into the cockpit, moving a few buttons to restart the ship's engines.
"Well, if it's any consolation, he came alone. No back up, no fighters—this guy must've trusted you," Wedge pointed out.
Han snickered. "Its progress." Chewbacca sat in his copilot seat, as did Wedge. "Let's get going. We're already late to Coruscant as it is". The Falcon rumbled to life as it slowly started to levitate from the ground.
"Can we pass by Obroa-skai?" Wedge asked once they were leaving the atmosphere. "I want to know what exactly happened to that Elomin task force."
"Sure thing, kid," Han said grimly, "If we're lucky, maybe we'll get an idea of who did it to them."