"What do you think?" one of the Sulonese refugees asked.
"It's a planet," Morgan replied, with a shrug. "Habitable. No Imperial presence. What more do we need?"
"To not raise an Imperial presence here," Jerg muttered. "But that's about it. You've paid me well for this, Katarn."
The last of the refugees filed out of Jerg's ship with the supplies for their colony, and Jerg frowned.
"You've got my com frequency," he said. "And I don't doubt you've got some money for it, so… call me up if there's something I can help with."
"You're a good man, Jerg," Morgan said.
"I'm expecting to be paid," Jerg replied. "We're neighbours of a sort, now, even if Fort Nowhere is a quarter of a way around the planet from here."
"I'd appreciate some kind of recon sweep, then," Morgan admitted. "If that's something that won't cost too much."
Jerg looked contemplative.
"Tell you what," he decided. "If you want to do a sweep, do it yourself, but I'll lend you my speeder."
The next morning, Morgan Katarn left the borrowed speeder and headed down an odd-looking cave.
Really, the 'survey', such as it was, should have only been for his peace of mind. There were hundreds of colonists, all with blaster rifles to protect them from the wildlife, and the world of Ruusan had an absolutely miniscule amount of population… there were locals, who weren't spacefaring, but none of them within five hundred kilometres of the small Rebel refugee enclave. And there wasn't even much in the way of wildlife.
But then there'd been… this.
Maybe someone who hadn't built their own home into the Sulonese bedrock wouldn't have noticed, but… the cave he'd found didn't look natural.
Morgan couldn't have told you what drew him to it, either. Only that he'd stopped, and looked, and noticed.
And now here he was, going deep into a cave on a planet that hadn't really been properly explored.
"Well, Morgan," he said, to himself. "If everyone complained about not going anywhere unless it had been explored – nobody would go anywhere, would they?"
He chuckled, checking the charge on his glow rod, and continued. His datapad was recording his path, so he was confident of being able to retrace his steps back to the cave mouth… once he'd found whatever it was he was looking for.
Whatever that was.
Morgan didn't know what he was looking for, but he knew he was after something.
It was… a hunch. And Morgan had learned to trust his hunches.
"Whoa…" Morgan breathed, raising his glow rod, and whistled.
The glow rod didn't illuminate the far side of the chamber, at least not well enough for him to make anything out. This was an enormous underground cavern, hundreds of metres across easily, and it was high as well – the roof lost in the gloom overhead, except for where it curved smoothly down to meet the cave floor nearby.
After a long moment of contemplation, Morgan doused the light.
He left it off for at least forty seconds in the absolute pitch black, then he held it behind his back and lit it again.
This time, his eyes were better adapted to the darkness, and he could see more of the shape of the cave… and it only reinforced his conclusions.
The roof was arched. Sculpted into vaulted arches, no less. And there were pillars, as well, solid rock structures that would help support the weight of the roof – left behind when the chamber had been excavated.
Someone had built this place to stand the test of ages, and Morgan wasn't sure of why.
Then something moved. Something big, moving slowly but with a kind of inevitability to the sound that indicated a truly enormous amount of mass.
Morgan thought about dousing the light again, but decided there was no point. Anything down here would probably be better at fighting in the dark than he was – and, with the glow rod, he could at least see what he was dealing with.
And what he was dealing with was… a creature, rising and shifting, with a neck that looked at once huge and small, and the rest of its body made obscure by overlapping shadows.
"Kar' maka-kreen!" it said, in harsh and guttural tones.
"I don't know what that means," Morgan admitted. "Are you a creature with a mind?"
There was a short pause after that.
"I speak Basic, if that's what you mean," the same voice replied. Speaking Basic, rather than that unknown language, the tones were a bit less harsh – but the accent was quite strange, and Morgan's mind raced as he tried to work out what was going on.
Then he was treated to a yawn from a mouth that could have eaten Jerg's landspeeder without bothering to chew.
"I apologize," the voice added. "I am Ylara'mak'toth, though your voice sounds strange enough to me that I wonder if I am still known… hmm."
"Morgan Katarn," Morgan introduced himself.
Ylara yawned again, then something electronic lit up.
"Oh, very impressive," they declared, somewhat muzzily. "Seventy-four percent battery left. I'd compliment the manufacturers if they hadn't gone out of business during the war."
Morgan frowned slightly.
"What war?" he asked. "I'm sorry, I don't know much about you or what's going on."
"Where are my manners," Ylara replied. "I've introduced myself but made no consideration for your situation… should I refer to you as male, female, or one of the less common options? I've met enough humans to guess male, but I want to be sure."
"I'm male, yes," Morgan confirmed. "I can't even put a name to your species, though."
"I am a female Duinuogwuin," Ylara stated. "My affiliation was to Lord Hoth before the last battle here – the Seventh, if you require a reference – but with the death of my lord and so many of my comrades, a victory so dearly purchased, I sought nothing more than sleep and to mourn my dead."
She stretched, and Morgan saw vast diaphanous wings spread for a moment – all the way to the ceiling of the underground chamber. The light of her own electronic device showed how big she was, and Morgan estimated that her serpentine, segmented main body was about a hundred metres long.
Ylara could certainly have fit through even the narrowest point of the tunnel he'd taken down here, though not by much, and Morgan now knew exactly why it had been built the way it had.
"I apologize," he began. "But I don't know when any of the battles you're talking about were. And – I'm sorry for disturbing your rest."
"In truth, I have slumbered long enough," Ylara stated. "My kind live for a long time, but even for us I suspect I have slumbered overlong."
She chuckled a little. "And the Force would not have led you to me, if it had not been time and past time for me to be awake."
"The Force?" Morgan repeated. "I'm not trained, though… I've tried not to use it, since I was young."
Ylara nodded, then paused, and suddenly lights went on all over the cavern.
"I really should have done that already," she said. "Sorry. I've been asleep for a while."
Morgan chuckled.
"I get the same way," he said, with a smile. "All right, if you've been asleep for a long time… I'm afraid you haven't woken up at a good time. About two decades ago there were the Clone Wars, and at the end of them all the Jedi were wiped out and the Republic turned into an Empire. But before then there had been, what, a thousand years of peace?"
He shook his head. "If you'd woken a couple of decades ago, I'd say the Jedi could have found out what year it was. But if not…"
Ylara had gone still, and she let out a kind of groan.
"I slept through a thousand years of peace," she said, sounding grumpy. "And I awaken to a galaxy in need once more… Morgan Katarn, you will have to tell me more about this time. And, perhaps in return, I can train you."
"Train me?" Morgan repeated.
"I do not think you could wield my lightsaber, but I have a few smaller ones. For apprentices," Ylara said. "I have trained humans before."
"I don't want to use the Force," Morgan protested. "I'm no Jedi."
"Not yet," Ylara replied. "You will find, however, that the Force is not a thing you can simply refuse."
She paused, considering her words.
"It is in all living things," she said. "It is life, it is light. It is a spark, to which such as you and I are attuned as if to the life-giving sun. It is the heartbeat of the universe. To refuse it is to refuse to breathe the air of the atmosphere around you, and rely solely on atmospheric ventilation… it can be done, but it is a poorer life."
She smiled. "And it brought you to Ruusan, and then to my resting place, which could not have been found by someone who was not a sensitive. Morgan – I do not know what tuition you have had in the Force, if any. But all that the Force truly does is to make you more of what you already are."
It was Morgan's turn to think about that for a long time.
"The Emperor's enforcer is called Darth Vader," he said. "He wields a lightsaber – a red one – and… is something wrong?"
"The Sith," Ylara said, her voice resonant. "A Sith empire, no less, and formed by a coup to destroy the Republic. You and I will have much to discuss, Morgan… for it seems that the work of the Army of Light is not yet complete."
Those formal words over, she turned to look through the things next to her bed.
"Now, where did I put my hyperdrive…" she asked.
"Your hyperdrive?" Morgan repeated.
"I dislike fitting myself into cargo vessels," Ylara replied, turning so she could look over a wing at him. "My wings may carry me into the sky, and even unto space; even without the Force, I can sustain myself there for a long time. So I have a backpack hyperdrive."
Morgan thought that through.
"Seems fair," he conceded.
Kyle frowned, looking around at the Katarn family homestead as he approached.
He had his blaster ready, in case of trouble with… well, anyone… but he didn't exactly expect the homestead to be overrun with Tuskens or something like that. Instead he was just… curious.
Something didn't seem right.
After nearly four years of Academy training, he should have been ready to just… make an assessment, straight off. Kyle knew that. But everything seemed perfectly normal.
And yet it didn't.
Putting another layer of oddity on the situation was that he had a hunch that whatever was strange wasn't wrong. That it was something good.
Shaking his head and chuckling, Kyle crossed the last few dozen metres to the door.
As he knocked, suddenly it came to him.
The fields didn't look right. Not for the time of year. The crops weren't being harvested, and by now that should be happening.
Just as he was thinking that, and wondering about what could have caused it, the door opened.
"Kyle," his father said, with a smile. "I'm glad you got my message!"
"I'm glad it came in time for me to request leave," Kyle replied, entering the house. "What's going on, dad?"
Morgan paused.
"That's… a complicated topic," he said, leading the way into the main living room of the homestead, and took a seat. "Kyle… we're going to need to speak honestly. You're a man, now, and I've always been proud of you… you know that."
"This sounds ominous," Kyle muttered. "Are you getting harassed by Rebels?"
"No," Morgan assured him. "By Imperials."
Kyle stopped halfway through sighing in relief.
"By Imperials?" he repeated. "I… suppose that makes more sense, you were always… familiar with the Rebellion. But I never told anyone-"
"I knew you didn't," Morgan said, straight away, and Kyle took heart from his father's firm conviction. "They're just… throwing their weight around. You're too young to remember the Republic or the time before the Clone Wars, and of course the Republic was never perfect, but – the Empire has given a lot of people a chance to rise in ways the Republic wouldn't have done. And that's not in good ways. There's no accountability any more."
Kyle looked around, as if he could see the fields through the walls. "Is that what's causing trouble with the harvesting?"
"No, what's caused trouble with the harvesting is that I've moved out entirely," Morgan told him. "I live on a different planet now, I only came back here to speak to you… Kyle, this is important."
Kyle didn't reply, at first.
"I'd ask if you meant it was more important than my future, but that would be a silly question," he admitted. "What's important? Do you want me to join the Rebellion?"
"Not… necessarily," Morgan answered. "But you have your education now – or most of it. Do you really want to be a stormtrooper?"
Kyle frowned.
"I don't know," he admitted. "It's what I've been working towards for years. There's no way I could be a farmer, though."
"Thanks," Morgan said, with a chuckle, and Kyle made a face.
"You know what I mean, dad," he said.
"I do, Kyle," Morgan replied, reaching out and taking Kyle's hand in one of his own. "And I trust you more than anyone else in the galaxy… which is why I'm telling you this. You've guessed that I'm part of the Rebellion, even if you didn't know any of the details – and you never asked, and I never told, because that was the best way to keep us both safe. But this is new."
He shook his head, in wonderment. "It's so very new."
"What is?" Kyle asked, then there was a slight clink sound. He looked down at the table, and saw a metal cylinder resting there-
The cadet nearly fell out of his chair as he realized he was looking at a lightsaber.
"You're a Jedi?!" he asked, in a strangled voice.
"Not yet," Morgan replied. "It's new, Kyle. And I couldn't keep it secret from you."
"That means… you met a Jedi?" Kyle asked.
"Yes," Morgan answered. "Void's teeth did I meet a Jedi."
He caught Kyle's eye. "Kyle… I'm sorry, but this is one of those times where you need to make a choice. And that's a simple enough choice… I won't hurt you, if you decide not to come with me. You can leave. But… it might be the last time we see one another, because I won't be able to risk coming back to Sulon again. This time was enough of a risk."
After a long moment, the man's eyes closed. "I couldn't lie to you about this, Kyle. I just hope it doesn't cost me my son."
Kyle thought about that, in silence, for several seconds.
"The other option is coming with you?" he asked.
"That's right," Morgan agreed. "Up to you, son."
After another long pause, Kyle took out his blaster and put it on the table – next to the lightsaber.
"Then you'd better tell me where our ship is, old man," he said. "At least this way I get to skip doing my final exams."
Morgan chuckled.
"Thank you, Kyle," he said. "For making this choice, regardless of how difficult you found it. And if you found it easy… thank you anyway, for that."
"Focus on the hilt in your hands," Ylara said. "A Jedi's lightsaber is more than a weapon. It is not for no reason that to construct your own lightsaber is a core part of a Jedi's training… but that does not mean you cannot use another's lightsaber. It is simply to emphasize that the crystals that energize the blade are, themselves, attuned to the Force."
Kyle and Morgan sat beside one another, each holding one of the 'sabers from Ylara's cache.
"You have already touched the Force," she said. "Now, you will be using something outside yourself to recognize it. To learn to feel it."
"Okay," Kyle reported. "Yeah, I think I get what you mean."
"You do?" Ylara asked. "Then describe it."
"It's not really something, that's different from how the world already is," Kyle said, out loud. "The lightsaber being attuned doesn't mean that there's more of the Force in it, or, it doesn't just mean that. It means the energy that's there is doing something… it's resonating, maybe. Humming, a little."
Then he frowned. "And I can make it move, a little."
Ylara chuckled, her deep voice echoing in the cavern.
"You are a quick student, Kyle," she said. "That was going to be tomorrow's lesson, at the earliest."
She considered the two of them, then pointed. "Over there, Kyle. Morgan, you've described how in the past you've mostly felt the Force as flashes of insight… meditate on that a little and see if you can remember how that felt. As closely as you can."
"I guess that means I'm doing something else," Kyle guessed, getting up and walking a little way away from his father.
"Correct," Ylara agreed. "What I would like you to do now is to try making the Force move, and show me what you can do with it. I have some exercises, but first… I want to see what you can do by yourself."
Kyle finished stepping over to where Ylara had indicated, and inhaled.
Exhaled, most of his attention on the lightsaber in his hands.
The Force moved around him, then he jumped six feet into the air, flailed, and Ylara caught him with her telekinesis a moment before he would have landed on his backside.
"Great," he muttered. "I guess knowing how to do something isn't the same as not looking like an idiot."
"Mastery comes with practice," Ylara agreed.
She let Kyle down, and he rose back to his feet.
Instead of trying again, though, he looked up at the enormous dragon who was teaching him to be a figure out of old stories.
"Why me?" he asked. "I know my father was the one who found you, but… I was an Imperial cadet."
"Your father trusted you," Ylara replied. "And, as importantly, you were the single person I could be most confident would be able to learn to use the Force – aside from Morgan, whose strength I had felt personally. Though some of my old comrades would have disagreed."
Kyle looked politely curious, and Ylara chuckled.
"Lord Farfalla Valenthyne argued that the Jedi Lords – such as himself – were a mistake," she explained. "That it was only right for Jedi to avoid having children, themselves, to avoid the accumulation of power. And my own Lord, Lord Hoth, said that such a rule would be unnecessarily strict – that it would be better for there to be other ways, that did not make becoming a Jedi so much of a sacrifice."
She tilted her head. "Most Jedi had an opinion, one way or another, on how it should be done. It was one of those things that led to many pleasant hours of discussion, and a few shouting matches – exactly as it should be for such a topic… but I have a different perspective."
"What's that, then?" Morgan asked.
He had his hands open, and the lightsaber was floating over one of his palms, until it dropped back down a moment later.
"I am Duinuogwuin," Ylara pointed out. "A third of my entire species may use the Force. If we restricted ourselves from having children on that grounds, there would not be many of us left, and it has never been a problem for us."
She gestured to Morgan to get up. "So – the answer, for me, is that you teach your students to understand what the Dark Side is. How to resist it, how to understand the temptations it offers. The traps it can set. The same things you would have to do for someone who did not have parents, or children, who were Jedi… the same things you would have to do with anyone who was not entirely lacking in friends. And that, we will cover another time… but probably sooner than I was expecting. Now… to continue with my introduction to the basics, the Seven Forms. The first is called Shii-Cho, the Determination form, and in philosophy it is the last resort, for violence should be the last resort of a Jedi and a foe defeated without serious injury is the highest form of victory."
"What about if they're a Sith?" Kyle asked. "Does that apply to them, as well?"
"Kyle," Morgan said, chuckling. "Let the lady teach with some kind of structure."
"Sith are another matter entirely," Ylara said. "In my experience, they generally attack in large numbers. Possibly on swoop bikes… so what would Shii-Cho suggest in that situation?"
"Disable the swoop bikes?" Kyle guessed.
"A good start, certainly," Ylara stated. "And, indeed, the wide manoeuvres of Shii-Cho are well suited for doing such a thing. Now, tune your lightsabers so they are at a training intensity, and we will begin…"
A third lightsaber floated into the air, igniting with a flash of orange light. "This will be your example."
So, how did it go? Morgan asked, eyes closed as he sat in a cross-legged meditation position.
Well, I didn't have to use my lightsaber, so that's good, Kyle replied.
His voice drifted across the void, attenuated but still understandable, and Morgan decided that that was probably a good sign.
In theory, distance meant nothing to the Force. Like size, like age, like mass… everything was irrelevant.
In practice, though, anyone who was using the Force had their own very real perceptual weights to things, and so that meant that to reach out for a pace was easier than a thousand. To carry a lightsaber was easier than to carry a starship. And that to feel something big was so much easier than something small.
But Morgan and Kyle were family, and fellow apprentices of Ylara, and that was enough.
The raid was in and out, quick enough, Kyle went on. This Jan Ors who I'm working with is good with drop-offs and pick-ups, that's good too.
I'm very proud of you, Kyle, Morgan sent. And – stay safe.
I will, father, Kyle replied. Next time, you could come along as well.
Maybe, Morgan sent. Though you're far better with a blaster than I am.
He sent a wave of warmth and affection, and Kyle responded in kind.
Be safe, Morgan concluded, and stopped focusing on the link.
"I caught some of that," Ylara said. "He didn't have to use the lightsaber?"
"That's right," Morgan agreed.
He looked at his own 'saber, which was still one of the ones from the cache. They hadn't yet had a chance to visit Ilum, or Jedha, or any of the other places where lightsaber crystals could be found – and they'd considered dismantling one of the old weapons, but Morgan didn't think that would be right.
They were genuine antiques and still as effective as the day they'd been crafted, and to take one apart just so he could build one himself sooner wouldn't be quite right.
"When do you think we'll have to?" he asked.
"I don't know," Ylara admitted, her wings moving in a rippling shrug like a wave. "This is a military decision… a strategic decision. But it's one that could be forced upon us, or one which happens by chance. The longer that the Empire does not know that there are Jedi present, then… the better for us, in terms of planning, because they cannot plan to adjust for us. But if we delay too long, we will not make a difference when we could. It is probably impossible to tell."
"I was hoping it would be simpler," Morgan admitted.
"If your son had needed to use his lightsaber, it would be very simple," Ylara said, amused. "Now… could you let me see your Soresu?"
Morgan lit his lightsaber, rising into the ready stance, and Ylara floated another blade to oppose him.
Both, as usual, were set on training intensity.
"The philosophy of Soresu," she requested.
"Remain in the eye of the storm," Morgan answered. "Accept that you do not need to be aggressive. If your enemy wishes your death, to survive is victory. Resist attack, and resist the temptation to attack."
"And the weakness of this philosophy?" the ancient Jedi Master added.
"Soresu is a stalling tactic," Morgan said. "It prolongs a battle, but it doesn't guarantee a victory – or offer a way for it to happen. Against blasters, it's very effective, while against sabers it just means one of you will tire out… and it could mean you."
"Good," Ylara said, nodding, and flicked her blade in an Ataru offensive move. Morgan deflected the attack, then a second, spinning his lightsaber through the required combinations to fend off each attack.
"Watch your right side," Ylara advised. "You're overcompensating for which hand your saber is in."
Morgan nodded, footing shifting a little.
Then something rolled over him, and he wobbled slightly.
It felt like a vision, but too intense; like a premonition, but grounded in the now.
And it felt like… terror. Like death.
Like a moment of blind panic, amplified into a shout across a vast distance, still audible when it reached them despite how far it had come.
Ylara had dropped the training saber at the same moment, and she lifted her muzzle to the top of the cave.
"Kerena-makai," she said, in her own language. "Morkan'maka, Oblis…"
"What was that?" Morgan asked. "What did we just feel?"
"Death," Ylara answered. "I have felt something like this before, but I hoped I would never feel it again after Oblis."
"Death?" Morgan repeated. "The colonists?"
"Worse," Ylara told him, simply. "That, Morgan Katarn, was the death of a world. All at once, not drawn out over hours or days, but in no more than a few seconds."
She exhaled, and turned up the lights in the cavern.
"It seems the answer to your question has come," she declared. "How much contact do you have with the Alliance to Restore the Republic?"
"Not enough to know where to go," Morgan answered, gathering her meaning. "We're leaving, then?"
"Exactly," Ylara agreed. "If you do not know where to, then we will have to trust the Force."
Morgan thought for a moment.
"Should I ask Kyle?" he said.
"I suspect Kyle will know soon enough," Ylara replied. "If the Force does not point us where to go, we will trouble Kyle, I think… but I have things to pack, before we take our leave. I would much prefer to return here, for it is my home, but it is quite possible that we will be departing Ruusan for good."
She paused. "If you are willing to? I apologize, Morgan – I am too used, still, to being part of the Army of Light."
"I'm with you," Morgan confirmed. "If you can bring me along, then – I need to work out what to say to the colonists, and Jerg, so they don't panic."
Ylara slowed in loading things into a slab of metal and electronics the size of a light freighter, thinking.
"Yes, that would be a good idea," she said.
The halls of Base One were full again, alive with Rebel soldiers and technicians talking about the events of the last day.
"That was…" one began, before pausing and shaking his head. "That was quite a spectacle, right?"
"I'm surprised they didn't give the Wookiee a medal," his friend replied. "You'd think they would."
"No, no, I think if a Wookiee wants a medal they get a medal," the first Rebel technician said, taking his seat and looking over the scanner systems. "Hey, Verak, what's this?"
"What's what?" Verak asked, with ill humour. "Hey, welcome back, by the way!"
"Sorry, man, you drew the short straw," the second tech said. "But what's this about a ship in orbit?"
"It's got proper Rebel codes and I was way too busy," Verak said, shortly. "Contact them yourself."
"Whatever, whatever…" the tech said, pulling his headset on. "Let's see… uh… that's their transponder frequency, confirm codes… unknown, this is Base One. State identity and purpose."
"Finally, someone responds!" a female voice said. "Base One, this is the Moldy Crow. I've got a cargo here who's got something to report in-"
"What's up, Jan?" a second, male, voice asked.
"Kyle," Jan complained. "They've only just started speaking to us."
"Seriously?" Kyle asked.
"Moldy Crow, this is Base One," the tech said. "We read you as a light freighter… do you intend to land? We should have space for your class of vessel under cover."
"Copy that, Base One," Jan replied. "Landing slot would be ideal as soon as possible, please confirm when available."
She paused, and there was no sound for several seconds – nothing but the carrier wave.
"Moldy Crow?" the tech asked.
"What's going on?" Princess Leia said.
"We've got a light freighter requesting a landing," Verak said, from his desk. "Moldy Crow, if you recognize the name, Princess?"
"...I think so," the Princess frowned. "Isn't that the ship that transports Outcast around?"
"Is this going to involve code names I'm not allowed to know?" the first tech said, worried. "That sounds like one of those serious codenames, like Fulcrum or Targeter."
"Outcast is one of those, yes," Leia said. "But I don't think it's a problem as long as you don't learn their name."
"Too late for that," the second tech admitted.
"Base One, this is Moldy Crow," Jan said, coming back online and sounding somewhat shaken. "My cargo's just told me that you need to be urgently aware of another incoming hyper contact."
"Another vessel?" Leia asked, wearing the nearest available headset herself. "What sort of vessel?"
"Not a vessel," Jan said, then inhaled. "Holy stars-!"
"What in the Force," Verak said, at about the same time. "Princess – look!"
Leia looked at the screen.
Then threw her headset off again and ran for the door.
"Well, Chewie, that pretty much settles the matter for me," Han said, staring up into the sky.
It was small, at this distance, but he could still make it out.
"Here," Chewbacca said, passing Han a battered pair of electrobinoculars, and Han donned them to get a closer look.
The range estimation laserfinder built into the binocs was giving him an idea of how far away the shape was, but that wasn't really necessary. At this magnification, he could see the T-shaped HWK-290 flying in a clear formation with the other new arrival, and he knew how big a 290 was.
And the kriffing space dragon flying alongside it was nearly four times as long as it was.
"It's official," Han went on, passing the binocs back to his friend. "We stepped into another universe, where the Force is real and there's dragons out there and there's things I care about more than money."
"I've always known there are things you care about more than money, Han," Chewbacca said.
"Yeah, like not getting myself turned into an example by Jabba the Hutt," Han pointed out, then relented. "Still, though. Dragons. Who would have thought it?"
"I've seen a lot," Chewie shrugged. "But that's new to me, I'll admit that."
Han slowly lowered his hand from where he'd been shading his eyes.
"Really, fuzzball?" he asked. "What else is new, then?"
Chewbacca laughed.
"Han!" Luke said, hurrying over. "Have you seen-"
He broke off, taking the electrobinoculars, and stared through them at the sight overhead.
"Wow," he said. "I…"
"You okay, kid?" Han asked, noticing the catch in his voice.
"I just wish Ben could see this now," Luke said. "And Biggs… I mean, look at it."
"I'm looking, kid," Han agreed. "I'm looking."
The 290 peeled off, as he watched, dropping lower into the atmosphere, and switched to repulsors before landing with finicky precision.
The cargo ramp lowered, and a young man – he looked like he was a bit older than Luke – came hurrying out.
"You might want to get the Crow moved indoors," he said, mostly addressing the nearest starship techs. "At least, before she gets landing clearance."
"No kidding," Han muttered. "What do you think, kid? Crows or Falcons?"
"Well, the Falcon is a nice ship," Luke said. "But there's something to be said for a smaller, agile craft like that."
"Yeah, whatever," Han chuckled.
Some of the hangar crew began bringing over a tow vehicle, and the man nodded.
"Jan, you should be good to go," he said, then turned. He noticed the knot of two humans and one wookiee immediately, and came striding over to them.
"Well, the medals are a clue," he said. "Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, right? And you must be Chewbacca. I'm Kyle Katarn."
Then he grinned at Luke. "Is that a lightsaber on your belt, or – oh, it is."
Luke blinked, then glanced down, as Han tried not to laugh.
"I'd forgotten about it," Luke admitted. "I don't really have anywhere to put it, not properly… I don't even know how to use it, but I don't want to let it out of my sight."
Kyle nodded.
"Want some lessons?" he asked.
"What, you're a Jedi too?" Han said, grinning. "Sure, why not, at this stage."
"Am I a Jedi?" Kyle asked. "I don't know, judge for yourself. I'm a guy with a lightsaber who knows how to use it."
"I still can't believe it," Dodonna said, distinctly not for the first time. "I didn't know anything that big was alive, let alone… let alone…"
He threw up his hands. "Able to survive in space, fully sophontic, a Jedi… at the start of the week, I thought the Jedi were gone entirely. Or as near as makes no difference."
"Vader and the Emperor would find it harder than you'd think, to clear out the Jedi order," Morgan said. "Even without Master Ylara. They may be driven into hiding, but it only takes one spark to relight the fire – only one Jedi to recreate the Order."
He looked towards the window of the meeting room.
They were in a room several floors up – not the conventional floors one might find in a normal building, but the huge steps of the Massassi pyramid. They were easily forty metres off the ground – and Ylara was looking in through the open window.
"Well said," the Duinuogwuin agreed, with a nod of affirmation. "And now there are many who should be taught. Morgan and Kyle's lessons are well advanced, but Kyle has told me of Luke Skywalker – he has an impressive grasp for how little training he has, but the fact remains that he desperately needs more training than he has had."
"How long will that take?" Dodonna asked. "I apologize for focusing on that kind of detail, I wish we could give Luke the time he needs to properly develop as a Jedi. But we need to think about the needs of the Rebellion as well."
"It's about cost and benefit, isn't it?" Princess Leia said. "The more time Luke has to train, the stronger an asset he'll be – if we're thinking in such cold blooded terms."
Ylara chuckled.
"I am not unfamiliar with the concept, Princess, General," she assured them. "I have been a military woman myself. The Princess has a good grasp of the situation… though not, I fear, of what I must tell her now."
"...what's that?" Leia asked, now worried. "What do you mean?"
"I could train you, as well," Ylara explained. "You are strong in the Force. And I suspect that you may have more time free to yourself than Luke does."
Leia looked torn.
"I don't even know what to think about that," she admitted. "I think – I suppose…"
She went silent for a long moment, then glanced up at Morgan before looking away.
"I think – I don't know if the reasons I'd have for accepting are the right reasons," she said. "Because… I want to get revenge. On Darth Vader, and on the Empire – I lost my mother, my father and Ben Kenobi in a single day… and I want to remember them in the right way. Being a Jedi would give me something in common with Ben, but I'm not sure if I should. And I know that there's so many things the Rebellion needs – things that I'm the best person to do. I don't know, Master Jedi."
Ylara closed her eyes for a long moment, bowing her enormous head in respect.
"I understand what you are saying," she said. "Your heart is wounded, and you worry about the Dark Side. The thought does you credit… so I will not ask for a decision now. Instead, I will ask that you and I have some conversations, in private. I may be able to help you work through your loss."
"You're a therapist as well?" Dodonna asked.
"I am a Jedi Master who held my rank for many centuries, in time of war," Ylara said. "To learn to salve a wounded heart is but one service I could do for Lord Hoth's forces, but it is not the least of them."
Morgan was nodding along.
"Battles can give you all kinds of wounds, not all of them physical," he said, then looked up as an alarm sounded.
Ylara was looking up as well, and her eyes narrowed slightly.
Dodonna picked up his comlink.
"This is Dodonna," he said. "Report!"
"Sir!" the analyst on the other end replied. "An Imperial Star Destroyer just dropped out of hyperspace. It's out of range for bombardment but that's not going to last long, and I'm seeing them already deploying fighters."
"Damn it," Dodonna muttered. "I should have known – we should have been focused on evacuating."
"The Falcon is still here, and we've got Skywalker, Antilles and Farlander," Leia pointed out. "Plus Ors – I'm not sure if that's enough to take out the whole fighter contingent of a Star Destroyer, but they can perhaps cover the evacuation?"
"This Star Destroyer is the triangular ship I see?" Ylara asked, and there was a kind of crackling and rustling sound.
The sound of trees, being knocked aside as Ylara shifted her weight, coiling and crouching for takeoff.
"That's what they look like," Morgan told her.
"Prepare your evacuation, General, Princess," the ancient Jedi Master stated. "I will be glad of support, if you can give it, but I will be your top cover."
Her wings flared, and she took off with a whoosh of wind.
"Nice to see you showed up at last," Jan said, as Kyle vaulted into the gunner seat of the Moldy Crow. "Isn't a Jedi supposed to see things coming?"
"It's mostly having a bad feeling about something," Kyle replied. "Take us up – the remaining fighters are breaking atmosphere shortly, but Luke needs to get suited up and the other snub pilots aren't likely to be much more ready. We'll have to cover them in case of fighter strike."
"What about your great big friend?" Jan asked, flicking switches.
"I'm pretty sure she can take care of herself," Kyle replied, as the Crow lifted on repulsors. That lasted long enough to get their engine wash clear of anything important, then Jan kicked in all the engines at once and they sped into the upper atmosphere. "Send me the main tac display?"
"On it," Jan replied, all business, and a diagram appeared on half of Kyle's gunner screen. The other half showed his gun camera, and he tested the turret traverse for a moment out of habit, then shifted most of his attention to the tac screen and visual scanning for now
Ylara was going out to meet the Star Destroyer. Even as he watched, turbolasers opened fire, and fighters spread out to block her.
But his Master was a veteran of space combat, and she knew what she could do. They could not, and she was Duinuogwuin, and space was as much a home for her as anywhere else.
And she could use the Force.
A whole fighter squadron found itself shoved out of the way, two of the fighters shattering from the force of the blow, and most of the turbolaser fire went wide as she rolled through the space. One shot struck her scales, flashing and sending up a cloud of sparks, then she swept closer and ducked down underneath the Star Destroyer.
That took her out of the space where its most heavily armed sections could shoot her… then, a moment later, Kyle truly understood why Duinuogwuin were called star dragons.
The Star Destroyer's upper surface erupted in fire as Ylara exhaled a jet of plasma, breathing stellar fire right through the capital ship, and a cascade of secondary explosions rippled out from the hole she'd torn to gut the Star Destroyer in seconds.
The TIE fighters immediately stopped chasing her and scattered in all directions, obviously running away, and Jan coughed.
"...holy sithspit," she said, then shook her had. "I mean… Jedi spit?"
"She didn't even have to use her lightsaber," Kyle pointed out. "Because… yes, she has one to scale. About twenty percent of that backpack she's wearing is the holster mechanism that fires it into space…"
AN:
A much longer one, sort of a proto-fic. Of course I was interested in the existence of a kind of force-sensitive canonical species that could live thousands of years and was a giant space dragon.
And yes, Star Wars space dragons at full growth are extremely powerful. The Executor would probably be a more significant challenge.