"Greetings, Senators of the New Republic.

Allow me to introduce myself: I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and former Commander of the rebel alliance. I understand there is concern about the teachings I am providing here on Ossus.

To provide full transparency and to ease any worries you harbor, I have collaborated with Ambassador Vancil to present a detailed account of the activities the Padawans are engaging in at school. As you will see, many of them are thriving, embracing their lessons, and preparing to contribute to our galaxy's future and the New Republic.

I trust that this information will offer the clarity you seek and help to prevent any future misunderstandings or unnecessary conflict moving forward.

May the force be with you all."

—Kyla stood front and center in her pod as she presented the recording to the grand chamber of the Senate. She was not scared of the sea of faces that watched her from above, but she was frustrated trying to determine their expressions through the glare of the chamber's spotlight shining down on her and R3.

She adjusted her emerald suit—a deliberate choice for its calming and authoritative tone—and ran her hand over the smooth fabric of her skirt. Her hair, braided back into a low bun, felt uncharacteristically tight, but she'd needed every detail to signal composure and competence. Modesty was key, she had learned when wanting to be persuasive in an uphill debate. Appear confident, not ostentatious.

R3, beeped a soft encouragement chirp to her before transitioning the recording to images of the Jedi younglings. Scenes of their saber techniques, mediation, and joy as they spoke about their studies flashed before the senators. She hoped it would be enough to give Skywalker protection from political interference. The younglings needed peace after everything they had been through.

The recording ended and the lights resumed to their presetting for debating. Kyla could now see the expressions ranging from disinterest to outright hostility. She looked to R3 wondering if she should say some closing words but before she could find her voice the senator from Kalevala signaled to speak.

"This tells us nothing!" a senator declared, her voice sharp and dismissive. "Clearly orchestrated to favor the religious zealot and his followers."

Kyla glanced at R3, taking a deep breath as she steadied herself. This had to work—for the younglings sake it had to.

"And what of the younglings?!" The senator of Malastare shot back, his pod swiveling toward the first. "They are vulnerable in the wrong hands. At least here we can see they are learning the ways of their ancestors."

"The Jedi are extinct and should remain so," the Salliche senator chimed in, his voice dripping with derision.

The noise in the chamber continued to rise, voices clashing to the point no one was audible. Kyla gripped the edge of her podium, They're not even listening to each other…

"Enough."

The single word, firm and commanding, cut through the chaos. All eyes turned to Leia Organa, her senator's pod rising smoothly into view. Her presence, as always, was magnetic. A murmur rippled through the chamber as Leia's voice echoed in the chamber, some senators exchanging uncertain glances.

"I have to say, you are all doing a great disservice to Ambassador Vancil, who took the time and energy to retrieve this information," Leia continued, her voice even but laced with authority. "Is this how we honor the efforts of our representatives? By descending into petty squabbles?"

From her pod, Kyla stole a glance at Leia, a flicker of gratitude softening her tense features.

I don't know how she does it, she thought with wonder.

Leia nodded to Kyla and then turned her sweeping gaze across the chamber. "The question we should be asking ourselves is not for approval of the Jedi way, but whether we can afford to ignore their importance. These younglings were once exploited for their abilities by imperial remanences. Now five years later, they are disciplined, skilled in self-protection, and clearly value tradition and allyship. Unity requires understanding, not fear. How can we hope to bring the galaxy together if we reject what we refuse to learn about? Ambassador Vancil has presented you with evidence of progress and hope—something we desperately need."

As R3 quickly decided to show the peaceful and beautiful recording of the night of the migration. The holo froze on a serene image: the forest bathed in ethereal light, the younglings gazing up in awe. In the corner of the frame, Kyla saw herself and Wyb, their hands clasped together—a quiet but undeniable moment of unity. The image of the forest seemed to soften even the staunchest skeptics.

Kyla turned to R3 with a smug smile wondering if the little droid was trying his gears at matchmaking. Before she could scold him the senate broke out in applause at the display. Caught between surprise and awe at Leia's influence.

"Ambassador Vancil," Leia addressed the room, her voice steady and warm, "thank you for your outstanding work. Please see to it that these recordings are added to the New Republic Archives. I motion that the matter of the New Jedi Order investigation be closed."

"I second the motion," came a voice from across the chamber, followed by a chorus of agreements. Kyla straightened up and nodded with gratitude toward the senate, the weight of her victory settling over her. Against all odds, they had listened. She glanced at R3, who was boasting of his presentation skills and timing.

Wyb anxiously drummed his fingers on the table in the dimly lit Noodle Shop. The shop hadn't changed much since his cadet days. He could almost picture Soni sitting across from him, slurping noodles with a grin trying to ward off the hangover to come the next morning after a night of overindulgence. This place had been their go-to spot, a sanctuary where they complained about training, critiqued flying, and were just themselves.

But that was a long time ago.

Now, the shop felt smaller, quieter—its charm dulled by the weight of the years and the changes in his life. He shook his head, reminding himself he wasn't just here for a trip down memory lane. He was waiting for R3—and for Kyla.

"Are you gonna order, or do I need to charge you rent?" the server barked.

Wyb looked up to see a Dug perched on the edge of the table, his powerful arms crossed while his feet gripped a small datapad. The server's elongated face twisted with impatience.

"Sorry… my party must be delayed," Wyb explained. He glanced down at the menu, already knowing his order—the number seven. But what about Kyla? Did she eat meat? Would ordering for her be presumptuous? He grinned awkwardly at the server.

"Five minutes," the Dug growled. "If you don't order, I'm giving the table to someone who's actually hungry. Stars know pilots think they can do whatever they want." With a disdainful snort, the server spun on his hands and leapt to another table.

Beep beep beep, R3 rolled under the Dug's leap and up to Wyb, chirping cheerfully relaying the Senate presentation outcome.

"I take it things went well?" Wyb greeted the droid, his attention shifting to Kyla, who stood just behind R3 looking radiant. He awkwardly stood up and reached to pull out her chair but she had already begun. He hastily retreated and gestured for her to sit instead.

"Everything alright?" she asked coolly, noting his behavior.

"I asked you first," Wyb said with a wink, trying to recover.

"Flyboy! Order!" The Dug whistled from across the room.

Wyb glanced at Kyla, who had already picked up the menu. She scanned the options but quickly set it down, overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices.

"I hate to keep the server waiting," she said with a small smile. "You better order for the both of us."

"Two number sevens!" Wyb called out to the Dug, who grunted and punched the order into his datapad.

"Used to be a lot more accommodating here," Wyb muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"You used to come here a lot?" Kyla asked, her eyes scanning the room with that careful, deliberate attention Wyb had started to notice about her. At first, he'd found it annoying—an ambassador's instinct to assess. But now, he found it admirable. As though she was striving to take in every detail of her experience, a passion not to miss a thing.

"Another question, Ambassador?" he teased, reaching to grab two bottles of ale from a passing droid bar. He offered one to her, but her brow furrowed. "Sorry, Kyla…I'm not myself… I guess I'm a little nervous," he admitted, setting the bottle in front of her.

Kyla softened, taking the bottle and lifting it for a sip."I'd tell you to relax, but I'm nervous too," she confessed.

"You? Nervous?" Wyb asked, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

"Yes." She laughed, her expression easing. "Ambassadors can get nervous, Flyboy. But with time I think we'll find our way."

"I hope you're right," He cheers her. "Now how was the senate?"

"It went as well as any Senate meeting could go," she answered warmly, then reached out to place a hand gently over his. "And R3 was truly the star of the show."

The droid chirped modestly, swiveling his dome as if to downplay the compliment. They laughed at R3's enthusiasm.

"Eat. Don't linger,"the Dug thumped down two steaming bowls of noodles along with the check and darted away without another glance.

Wyb and Kyla exchanged looks before digging into their food, their earlier nerves beginning to settle.

"So Organa to the rescue yet again," Wyb commented as he fished out the last of his noodles. "As much as I admire the woman, she does seem to attract a lot of trouble."

"No more than the rest of us," Kyla defended having finished her meal already. She hadn't realized how hungry she had been. "I'm glad you talked me into meeting you here. It definitely was needed."

"The noodles or the chat?" Wyb smiled.

"Both Ranger, both." Kyla confirmed reluctantly but couldn't resist his sly smile and tone she hated to admit was growing on her.

"Noted," he replied and fiddled with his utensils uncertain what else to say.

"When do you head back to Adelphi?" She asked.

"Tomorrow," he replied lowly.

Tomorrow he'd be back on Adelphi, where the familiar routine and camaraderie of the Rangers awaited. But as much as he looked forward to flying with Wolf again, the thought of leaving this newfound rhythm— seeing Kyla each day—left an unexpected void.

"I guess that's to be expected. You've been away for months. I'll admit it will be strange without you and R3," she turned to the droid who chirped in reluctance to leave her. The two fell quiet at the realization and looked down into their empty bowls.

"You can write me if you want," he suggested.

"You won't be busy?" Kyla asked.

"For you, I'll make time," Wyb smiled. "You never know when you might need a lift or some noodles."

Kyla watched him carefully. For all his bravado, there was a sincerity to Wyb she hadn't expected. A part of her wondered how much of his humor was a shield, and how much was simply him.

"Hey! What did I say about lingering?" The server lashed out before Kyla could answer.

"We better go. I have to take R3 to the Archives to register the recordings from Ossus," she stood. "If you're not busy, you can come with us."

"Sure." Wyb stood and tossed the dug a credit before leaving. He offered his arm to Kyla, as Jord had once showed him when he was a boy how to charm the ladies. Kyla giggled uncharacteristically and took.

"Look at the size of this place," Wyb murmured with amazement. He had never been surrounded by so much history, let alone stepped into a labyrinth brimming with relics and knowledge.

Dim, golden lights illuminated the towering shelves, casting elongated shadows across rows of holobooks, data chips, and fragile artifacts from the imperial era. The air carried a faint hum, alive with the gentle whispers of cataloguing droids and the sterile scent of meticulously preserved materials.

In the center of the room, a vast mosaic of the galactic map stretched across the floor, its stars glimmering faintly under the ambient glow, as if the galaxy itself had been laid bare. Wyb tilted his head looking to see if the flight paths were accurate until R3 rolled in front of him, his chirps echoing softly as Kyla activated the entry terminal.

"Here, R3. Go ahead and get started," she instructed. The droid plugged into the computer, and Kyla entered her clearance code to begin the data transfer.

"You come here a lot?" Wyb asked, his gaze still roaming across the endless shelves.

"I did more when I was an intern," Kyla replied, her fingers tapping deftly on the console. "The central library is great for surface research, but the archives? This is where you find the soul of a planet—its people, its stories. There's so much preserved here from the Old Republic and the imperial era. Want to take a look?"

Wyb hesitated, his grin faltering. "No ancient remains lurking in the corners, right?"

"None that I've seen," Kyla said, her voice serious but her eyes glinting with mischief. "But…you never know."

"What?!" Wyb exclaimed, taking a cautious step back.

Kyla laughed softly, reaching for his hand. "Relax, Ranger Tersu. I'll protect you." With a playful tug, she led him toward the processing room, her smile lingering just long enough to make him wonder if she was joking.

"Oh finally they are getting to this. It's been a year and half since I've been waiting for its processing," she explained as she began to look over the pieces being entered by the processing droid, a datapad, annotated star maps, an assortment of military badges, and a uniform.

"Imperial Officer uniform? What's so interesting about that?" Wyb asked, reaching for the uniform and playfully holding it against himself as if to concern how it would look on him. The processing droid turned and reached out to collect the uniform and slightly pinched Wyb in the process. "Ouch!"

"These are what's left of Grand Moff Tarkin…" Kyla revealed.

Wyb felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Tarkin was a name that still lingered throughout the base and in the Republic. But he also had heard Lenore talk about seeing the Grand Moff once when she was in the Imperial Army right before deserting. Lenore didn't talk much about the war, mostly because she didn't fight in it. She was too busy on the run and trying to make ends meet. But Wyb had heard plenty from Wolf —

"The man oozes evil. I've never seen anyone so dedicated to destruction in the quest for power… but that was the thing. He never had power… only fear. He harnessed it until the fear gave way to vengeance and the people slowly began to rise up"

— "Hey," Kyla called Wyb back from his thoughts. "Credit for your thoughts?"

"Sorry, just thinking about my partner back on Adelphi. Wolf fought in the war, so I know the general sentiment about Tarkin," Wyb explained.

Kyla reached over the droid and took the datapad. The droid turned to retrieve it until she flashed her ambassador badge and the droid relinquished its reach and turned back to the other pieces to process. "Many have been looking for the Tarkin Doctrine for some time now, but so far they've only been able to recover personal effects from his home office."

"That's the thing for the DS," Wyb said and Kyla acknowledged. "Apparently Lenore's brother flew during Yavin."

"Really?"

"With R3," Wyb confirmed. "That's why he hates droid pods. Story goes, Lee Tersu stole a B-Wing and was the only one to make it back from gold squadron. But sometimes I wonder if it's true or just a story. You know?"

"Must have been hard for your mom, brother in the rebellion, her on the imperial side… where were you about then?" She asked.

"Beats me," Wyb shrugged, slightly avoiding the question. He didn't like thinking about the past. She knew this. He had mentioned it to her under the memorial tree on Lothal. But here in the archives he looked into her eyes and saw true curiosity. He knew he could trust her. "If I had to guess, I'd say just starting to walk."

She leaned against the table as she placed the data pad down and waited for Wyb to continue.

"I don't remember much before Lenore and Jord. My mother…"

Wyb's fingers hovered over the datapad, as his thoughts drifted back to his mother. Her presence had always been forceful, but never warm. She was a figure carved in steel, her authority unyielding. There were no soft words, no tender embraces. Just the constant demands for silence, for obedience, for attention, and quick efficient movement.

He remembered the long days spent moving in the shadows from town to town, his mother's sharp gaze constantly sweeping their environment. She'd tell him to keep quiet, to stay out of sight—always moving, never pausing, not knowing what they were trying to outrun.

"Stay close. Don't speak. Don't make a sound. You're not here. Understand?" She'd command in that low, clipped voice, never looking back to see if he nodded, just trusting him to fall into line. It had never felt like love. It felt like survival. Even when she sold him to the slavers, he wondered what had caused her to finally leave him behind.

"Wyb?" Kyla's gentle voice cut through his thoughts.

"Sorry," Wyb squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling his eyes water. Kyla placed a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed feeling her touch. He looked at her with a half smile. "I just always wonder why she sold me…and if I was the only one. We're we alone? What about my father? What about…other family members?"

"Have you ever thought about running your DNA through one of the genealogy databases?" she suggested. "You could find out if you have any living relatives."

"I don't know," he muttered, his voice rough. "What if I find... nothing? Or worse—what if I find someone I don't want to know? And what about Lenore and Jord?"

Kyla's gaze softened, but she didn't push him. "It's about finding the truth, Wyb. Not just what you want, but what's real. You don't have to like it, but maybe it'll help you find closure."

His breath caught in his chest, a mix of longing and fear twisting together. He had spent so long in the shadow of his mother's cruelty. But had also been hiding in the guilt of Lenore's love. He wondered if Kyla had a point. Perhaps finding something—anything—would help him make sense of his past.

"I could help you, before you leave tomorrow. Whichever way you decide," Kyla said and then pulled another piece from the collection. A portrait of the Grand moff. She looked at it and then looked up at Wyb. "The Moff was not known to be very handsome but seems like he liked capturing his likeness."

Wyb took the portrait in hand. "It's a personal size, might have been a gift for someone. His wife?"

"Perhaps. There was a rumor Wilhuff had a lover…" Kyla said. "An Admiral… Admiral Daala. First woman in the Imperial Navy to reach such rank. Many said it was her close relationship with Tarkin that got her the promotion but here look," Kyla opened a journal entry of Tarkin's "He details her skills and her potential in his early entries."

"You seem to know a lot about this," Wyb replied, staring into her eyes deeply.

"I like anthropologie…but I guess with Tarkin in particular, I can't figure out how someone could so easily give an order to destroy a whole planet without a second thought."

"Some men are just evil," Wyb said. "There's no understanding it, especially if you have a kind heart."

"Do I?"

"I think so," Wyb smiled and leaned forward, taking her cheek in hand. Before kissing her soft and gentle. She kissed him back resting her forehead against his gratefulness that he had finally made a move.

Beep beep beep, R3 interrupted, alerting he was ready to go.

"Ok R3," Wyb acknowledged. "I better go. I promised him he could call Prisa to say hello."

"I'll see you tomorrow then before you head out."

"Can't wait," he kissed her cheek and turned to leave. "Oh about that test…I think it's a good idea. Never know, maybe I got a cousin that's a wookie or something."

"I don't think it works that way but sure," Kyla said smiling as she watched him leave.