Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

“You do know, don’t you? If the Jedi destroy me, any chance of saving her will be lost.”

It was strange that the voice echoing in his thoughts, the one that had provided comfort for thirteen years in the same patient, rich tone, should now be a harbinger of his beloved’s doom. The irony was bitter, enough to make Anakin Skywalker crush the fingers of both his flesh and bionic hands together in an effort to draw blood. He let out a heavy breath and separated his hands. They were clean, of course. They were always clean, no matter how wretched he felt on the inside.

Padmé…

When he’d spoken his vows by the lake on Naboo, he had never imagined that he might lose her like this. He had never imagined losing her at all. In the deep places of his heart, he had refused to consider death a possibility.

“The dark side is a pathway to many abilities…”

In an instant the shadows had been swept away, the secrets of the mysterious Darth Sidious laid bare, and Anakin had hesitated. Lightsaber drawn, close enough to kill, to wipe out evil forever, to end the war and make the galaxy safe for his family, and he had hesitated.

Jedi weren’t supposed to hate, but Anakin did. He hated the very idea of the Sith, loathed their existence to his core. Of all the oaths he’d sworn upon being Knighted, that was the secret one he’d promised never to break. The Senate would continue to bicker, and the Jedi Council would be indecisive; but the Sith – who had lived in shadow for a millennium – were preparing for the final push, the one that would end in galactic domination. That would end in the deaths of everyone Anakin held dear.

He hated Sidious, yes, but he had never hated Palpatine. How could he? The Chancellor had watched over him ever since he was a boy. He had talked to him when no one else seemed to understand, when the stifling rules and restrictions of the Jedi Order crushed in around him and he just needed to breathe. Always patient, always kind yet firm in his advice, always willing to give Anakin the space to reflect and to act and to be exactly who he was.

Always lying to him, too. Manipulating him in hopes that he would… what, exactly? Save the Republic by turning to the dark side? It sounded absurd at first, and he’d tried to push the thought from his mind. But there was one important truth that kept him from shaking the idea loose: if he didn’t find some way to prevent it, Padmé was going to die.

That was really the crux of it. Watch his angel – and their child – burn out of existence, or take the Chancellor’s offer, take the power to stop death. Maybe save the Republic and stop the war, too, if the Chancellor was telling the truth about his intentions. And if he was, that meant the dark side really was the answer to Anakin’s troubles. The lure was undeniable, and his reasons would be nobler than those of his predecessors.

What if the Jedi were wrong? What if they were the ones who were corrupt, as Palpatine claimed? They’d kept so many secrets from him, refusing access to the knowledge he so desperately craved. What if they didn’t intend to arrest the Chancellor at all? What if they killed the one man who could help him save his wife? Could he stop them?

I can’t, he pleaded with himself. Not without losing my soul.

Had the Chancellor sensed the fear crowding around his heart when he was still a child? Had he known, even then? Known the things Anakin could do when he let loose the overwhelming fire stored up in him. Like staring straight into Count Dooku’s eyes as he severed his head from his body.

Like contemplating the death of the Jedi Order.

Anakin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His left hand shook.

He had taken an oath to the Force, to the light.

To Padmé.

He gasped as he felt her across the distance between the Jedi Temple and 500 Republica. In his mind’s eye he could see her rising from the couch, going to the window, as if she could feel his desperation. He went to the transparisteel that separated him from the sweeping majesty of Coruscant and reached for her. He felt her love, how she worried for him, even now, with the war’s end so close. He felt the faintest hint of a consciousness still-forming in its mother’s womb, a consciousness that was curious and fearful and, above all, alive.

I can’t let them die. I can’t let her die.

I won’t.

The Chancellor was a Dark Lord of the Sith, the enemy of the Jedi for thousands of years. He was also Anakin’s mentor, his friend… his only hope.

Though she possessed no Force-ability of her own, Anakin could feel Padmé answering the touch of his mind. She wanted him to be safe. She wanted him to come back to her. She wanted to set things right between them.

I’m going to, Padmé. I’m going to save you, and then we’ll be free.

Twin tears escaped his eyes as he turned away from the window. He brushed them away with his left hand and ran to the door, his stomach tightening in a cold knot, his heart pumping chilled blood through his body.

I have to do it. Just this once.

He opened the door and stepped across the threshold, feeling too late the sense of danger that flared up as something connected with his head and sent him plummeting into restless darkness.

Chapter One

He awoke to the sound of blasters and the stink of ozone, his head throbbing. Forcing his eyelids open, he stared down the smoke-filled corridor, eyes stinging as they tried to adjust.

Oh, Force…

What was going on? The last thing he remembered was talking to Master Windu, waiting in the Council chambers… and running out the door to stop the Jedi from arresting Chancellor Palpatine. Suddenly he knew exactly where he was and what was going on.

The Chancellor had won. The realization did nothing to ease the fear in his heart. If the Sith didn’t need the help of the Chosen One in defeating four Jedi Masters and taking over the Temple, would he decide that Anakin’s life wasn’t worth sparing?

No, it couldn’t be. Palpatine was his friend.

Anakin staggered to his feet and tried to take stock of the situation. He could feel several presences, but not enough to account for the all of the younglings.

Not nearly enough.

His heart froze as he reached out for the source of the distress that was pouring into the Force. There were no children here, none at all. Instead he felt a giant void, a mark on the fabric of the galaxy where a great many lives had been obliterated in the space of an instant. Layered over the emptiness was the frenzy of a fierce battle, probably the one that was causing the turmoil he felt. Anakin swallowed hard as he propelled himself forward, praying that whoever was behind this massacre had given the younglings quick deaths, knowing somewhere down in his gut that their blood would always be on his hands.

I could have ended this with one swing of my lightsaber.

What have I done?

Another thought struck him.

Where is Padmé?

Fear for his wife overwhelmed his senses. He tried to touch her presence but found no trace of her. Horrified, he attempted to further his range. Nothing. It was as if the design of the Force had altered radically in the time that he’d been unconscious. The only familiar sensation was the anger, rage, and desperation permeating the air like a potent toxin. He knew that feeling well, but he’d never expected to feel it here, in the tranquil Jedi Temple.

Anakin looked behind him at the door he’d been sprawled in front of, but instead of the smooth curves of the Council chamber entrance, he saw a sharply angled durasteel door that looked as if it had been on the wrong end of a frag grenade. Twisted metal jutted out at gruesome angles, reminding Anakin of some of the worst battles of the war. Turning back to face the corridor, he realized that the layout did not match the one outside the Council’s meeting place.

What in the Corellian hells…?

This wasn’t the Temple, at least not any part he’d ever seen. But if he wasn’t there, then where was he?

Blaster fire echoed along the corridor, louder than before, and without thinking Anakin drew his lightsaber and activated it with the familiar snap-hiss that sent dread through enemies of the Republic. The cerulean blade lit the smoky air, faintly illuminating a long, narrow hallway. He narrowed his eyes, extending his mental perception into the hazy darkness.

The black-clad figure appeared out of nowhere, his green lightsaber blade slicing toward Anakin’s neck. The young Jedi jumped back a step, surprised not so much by the presence of a saber-wielding enemy, but by the fact that he had not – and could not – sense the figure in the Force. He was real enough, his weapon a swirling pinwheel of deadly emerald energy. Anakin lunged forward, driving his blade hard into his opponent’s, pushing him back with sheer strength and weight. Instead of matching Anakin’s attack, the man in black did a back handspring and landed in a crouch. Anakin watched him carefully but held his position.

The figure stood slowly and pulled off his black cloth mask. It was indeed a man, and he looked to be close to Anakin’s age. The Jedi’s natural instinct was to assess his opponent, memorize every detail of his appearance, his stance, the way he breathed. Three years of war had branded the procedures deeply. Anakin wondered briefly, in a detached way, if he would ever be able to meet someone new without evaluating the easiest way to kill them.

The man’s face was surprisingly placid. He looked like someone who knew well the life of a warrior and took every battle in stride. If he was a fellow Jedi, Anakin had never met him. Even without the sense of him in the Force, Anakin could tell he was a skilled fighter.

“If you’ve come to kill me,” the stranger said, “then do it quickly.”

For an instant, Anakin remembered what he had planned to do before leaving the Council room, and a mixture of shame and apprehension washed over him. He tightened his grip on his lightsaber. “I’m not here to kill you.” He was unable to hide the strain in his voice. “I’m not even sure where here is.”

The man cocked his head to one side as if listening to something. With an expression somewhere between anxiety and annoyance, he unclipped a comlink from his belt and brought it to his lips. “Boys, we’ve got company,” he said crisply. “Make for the rendezvous.” Hooking the comlink back onto his belt, he deactivated his lightsaber and gave Anakin a mock salute with the hilt. “Gotta fly.”

And then he was gone.

“Wait!” Anakin yelled after him, his voice sounding much rawer than he’d imagined it would. He had to get to Padmé, to the Chancellor, to someone who could tell him what was going on. “Please! What is this place?”

The words came to him in a whisper of thought.

Hell. Better known as Ossus.

Anakin sprinted forward to catch the man, emerging from the smoke to find an intersecting hallway lit by emergency lights. This isn’t possible, he told himself. Ossus was one in a long line of planets to become embroiled in the Outer Rim Sieges, but it had been ruined thousands of years before the Separatists took hold of it. More importantly, it was on the other side of the galaxy. He couldn’t possibly be there.

Turning right at the corner, he dashed down the corridor, listening for the sound of footfalls ahead. He couldn’t sense the stranger in the Force, but he could hear him. A piece of cloth flapped in the air to the right, catching Anakin’s attention. As he turned to look, his danger sense flared, and he whipped his lightsaber around to protect his side. A beam of red hissed to life, crashing into his blade like a vicious predator. The power behind the blow was unbelievable; Anakin had to strain every muscle to keep the lightsaber from cleaving through his neck.

“Oh, you’re a strong one, aren’t you?” his assailant leered. The voice was deep and distinctively male, and through the blue and red light, Anakin could see just enough to make out a face riddled with black tattoos. For a split-second, the young Jedi’s heart froze.

The skin color was different, but Anakin had seen tattoos like those on another man, another Iridonian Zabrak with fire-yellow eyes that burned with hatred so great it could not be contained. The murderer of his first mentor, Qui-Gon Jinn.

Anakin remembered watching Qui-Gon burn at his funeral, a husk of a man, the life stolen from him by a force too evil to comprehend. By a Sith Lord.

Like the man I’ve trusted for the last decade.

Anakin banished those thoughts from his mind and focused his attention on the saber-wielding Zabrak. As they crossed blades high in the air, Anakin shoved hard and dropped into a spinning kick. The other man leapt over Anakin’s leg and angled his blade vertically, coming down for the kill. Anakin rolled away and jumped to his feet, thrusting his saber in the process. The Zabrak parried clumsily, seemingly uneasy being on the defensive.

Anakin pressed his advantage, launching a barrage of blows that the man could barely keep up with. With a violent slash of his lightsaber, Anakin sent his opponent’s weapon flying through the air and slashed through his right wrist.

The Zabrak howled with rage as he dropped to his knees, staring in disbelief at the cauterized stump. “You…” he hissed, his chest heaving.

The sight of him, unarmed and vulnerable, hit Anakin at his core. Though the man before him was much younger and in better physical condition than Count Dooku had been, Anakin couldn’t help noticing how similar his situation was to the one on the Invisible Hand just days earlier.

If I don’t kill him, he’ll come back for me. He’ll find Padmé and kill her, too.

That final thought clinched it. Anakin raised his lightsaber over his head, ready to slice it through his attacker’s neck and end his miserable existence.

An explosion rocked the corridor, sending Anakin into the wall with a ferocious crash. The Zabrak groaned angrily, and Anakin lost sight of him in the fire and smoke that filled the air. Somewhere in the distance a siren was blaring, and voices cried out urgently. Picking himself up of the floor, Anakin retrieved his lightsaber and began stumbling toward the sound of those voices.

“This way, hurry!”

“We’re going the wrong way!”

“Elias will meet us, just move!”

At the end of the corridor, a door burst open; Anakin saw three figures silhouetted against the moonlit sky, running for a ship that was still in the process of landing. It reminded him vaguely of the YT-series of Corellian freighters with its saucer-shaped hull, but the rest of the design was alien to him. Painted black, it almost disappeared in the darkness. The hatch opened, and the three figures ran aboard.

Looking behind him, Anakin watched as the smoke began to thin. Whoever that crazed Iridonian had been, he felt sure there were more like him on this planet. One person alone couldn’t have generated the level of rage and hatred that he had sensed upon waking in this place. For all he knew, the freighter was his only way offworld. Pulling his hood up over his head and shivering from something other than the cold, Anakin darted toward the ship, crawling up the side of the hatch as it began to close.

Arden Veiss trembled as she squeezed the trigger of the dorsal guns. She’d never been this close to the ruined Jedi Academy; she suspected she was one of the few who had. There was something intensely frightening about the building, about the whole planet, and she knew with certainty that she would not have agreed to this crazy mission if Captain Dagen had told them beforehand that Ossus was their destination.

She could do without the first mate’s insane flying, too.

“We’re clear!” Elias Till shouted from the cockpit. Arden felt a rush of relief, followed by the fear that they’d escaped the planet only to be blown out of the sky by the defense fleet’s turbo lasers.

As if reading her thoughts, Elias pulled up at a steep angle and let out a breath that crackled across the comm. “It’s all right, Arden. They’re not fast enough for the Daybreak.”

“What about the others?”

“All aboard. Told you I could do it.”

Arden tried to still her shaking hands. “I was more worried about the captain. Two teenage boys are not enough backup for a job like this.”

“Kohr and Ames are plenty old enough to handle Ossus.”

Arden shook her head and unbuckled herself from the guns. “Whatever you say, Elias.” She climbed down the ladder and made for the hatch.

The Daybreak bucked as it entered hyperspace, tossing Arden against the curved corridor walls. She grappled at the air before landing hard on her rear.

“Need a hand?”

Arden frowned and looked up into the captain’s brown eyes. “Glad to see you made it out okay.”

“Thanks.” He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “You all right?”

“I will be once you tell me what on Ossus was so valuable that you risked the wrath of the Sith to get it.”

The captain exchanged a quick glance with Kohr and Ames before pulling a datapad out of his jacket pocket. “This.”

Arden placed both shaking hands on her hips and did her best to look intimidating. “You risked all our lives for a datapad?” She threw a pointed look at Kohr, who was doing his best to pretend he was invisible. “Kohr, you couldn’t have cracked their database from orbit?”

Kohr looked at the captain as if seeking permission. Captain Dagen held up his hand dismissively, and the two young men at his side hurried past Arden and headed toward the galley.

Dagen watched the boys until they were out of sight. “Emperor’s bones, you’ve got a lot to complain about, Arden,” he said wryly, pocketing the datapad. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

He brushed past Arden and headed for the cockpit. The young woman huffed indignantly, but she knew better than to expect straight answers from the captain. She turned on her heel and followed him.

“So what did you do?” Arden called out. “Crack into the big Sith bank account?”

There was no reply, not even the usual grunt of displeasure. Arden strode through the doorway as Captain Dagen finished whispering something to the man in the pilot’s chair. They both turned to look at Arden, unable to mask the tenseness in their body language.

“Elias?” Her gaze flickered to the man in the seat, the blond-haired, powerfully built first mate who had just flown them away from Ossus. His normally cheerful brown eyes were clouded with worry. “What’s wrong?”

The captain shifted his weight and patted Elias on the shoulder. “Make a few more micro jumps. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Elias half-rose out of the chair. “You sure you don’t need help?”

Dagen offered the rare smile. “Naw, I can handle it.” Then he slid out the door and disappeared down the corridor.

Arden shivered. “He still scares me a little.” She glanced at Elias. “You know. Sometimes.”

The first mate stood up and pulled Arden into his arms. “He’s like my brother,” he said matter-of-factly, “and you’re not scared of me.” She could still detect something odd beneath his jocularity.

“You two are nothing alike.” She eyed Elias with approval. “But that’s okay.”

Elias smiled and pulled her down into the chair with him. “Help me plot these jumps.” He pressed two buttons, glancing over his shoulder as he did so.

Arden had the feeling he was trying to distract her, or maybe himself, but she went along for his sake. “If you insist. Now, what exactly does this lever do?”

Anakin had never been claustrophobic, but the tight spot he’d wedged himself into was threatening to drive him insane. He knew it wasn’t really the ship’s hold that had him on edge. Every second he waited here was another wasted opportunity to save Padmé’s life. After his encounters on Ossus – if it really was Ossus – he had been hesitant to extend his presence, lest anyone else detect him in the Force. Now it was time to come out of hiding and find out what kind of crew he was dealing with. He had to get home.

The door to the storage compartment opened without warning. Before he could react, a hand reached in and yanked hard on his robes, sending him headfirst into a pile of cargo containers. The Jedi Knight jumped to his feet and activated his lightsaber in one fluid motion. His attacker stood still, watching every movement without so much as blinking. Anakin realized, with the mildest degree of surprise, that it was the same man he’d met upon arriving on the planet.

“There’s no need for your lightsaber,” the stranger informed him steadily. “Just tell me why you snuck aboard my ship.”

Anakin held fast to his saber with one hand and rubbed his head with the other. “I had a little trouble with the locals.”

The man snorted. “I can’t imagine why.” In this light Anakin could see that he had jet black hair and dark brown eyes. His face was hard, and there were two jagged scar lines along the left side of his face.

Anakin pulled himself up to full height. “You said that planet was Ossus.”

“Did I?”

“As I recall.”

The man studied Anakin for a moment before answering. “Well, as I recall, I asked you why you’re on my ship, and you have yet to provide a good reason.”

Anakin knew this would be the perfect time to practice some Jedi patience, but after spending three years as a commander and then a general in the Grand Army of the Republic, he had become accustomed to a certain level of respect, even from his peers. The stranger’s tone reminded him too much of Master Windu’s for him to ignore it.

Besides, he hadn’t planned on remaining in the Jedi Order for much longer when he’d been mysteriously swept to this far corner of the galaxy. He didn’t have to be patient anymore.

“Listen,” he snapped, pointing at the man with his lightsaber. “I have no idea what’s going on here. Maybe that planet is Ossus, maybe it isn’t, but I wasn’t about to spend any more time there. I needed a ship, and yours was the only one available.”

The man stared at the tip of the lightsaber, his expression darkening just a little. “I told you there’s no need for your weapon. Put it away and we can talk like civilized men.” He turned to his left and indicated the open doorway leading out of the cargo hold. “This way.” Without looking to see if Anakin would follow, he strode through the door and shut off the hold’s lights.

The Jedi Knight sucked in a frustrated breath and followed. As he walked behind the man, he noticed that he was no longer wearing the lightsaber he’d wielded during their first meeting.

Curious.

The man stopped at the end of the corridor and pressed his palm to a control panel. A door slid open, revealing the vessel’s cockpit. Sitting in front of the controls were a young man and a young woman, both turning to see who had just entered.

“Hey, Captain…?” the girl’s words died as she caught sight of Anakin standing in the doorway.

The captain smiled tightly. “Elias, Arden, turns out we have a stowaway. This is… I’m sorry; you never told me your name.”

Anakin looked back and forth between the captain and his crew. Obviously they didn’t watch the Holonet much. “My name is not important,” he answered, adding a nudge of Force persuasion.

The man at the controls snorted. “It is if you want anything from us.”

The captain threw his companion a pointed look. “What Elias means to say is, we would love to help you. We just don’t know you.”

“No charity for strangers?”

The captain looked at his crew, and they all shook their heads. “Not really, no.”

“Okay.” Anakin reminded himself that he would need their help if he wanted to get back to Padmé. “My name is Anakin Skywalker. I’m a Jedi Knight, and I need to get to Coruscant as soon as possible.”

The two men looked truly at a loss for words, but the girl let out a dry laugh. “Right, and I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi. Come on, you’ve got to be joking.” It took her a moment to realize that no one else was laughing.

Anakin glared at her, feeling a dark chill rush through his veins. “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he said.

The girl shrank back into her chair, fear creeping into her hazel eyes. She turned back to the control panel, avoiding further eye contact. Her reaction emboldened Anakin, and he took a step into the cockpit.

“I’ve told you my name. Take me to Coruscant and you’ll be rewarded, I give you my word.”

“Your word?” The man called Elias stood up from his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “You honestly expect us to trust the word of a man claiming to be Anakin Skywalker?”

“Claiming?”

“Elias,” the captain interjected. “Would you plot a jump for the Heibic system?”

Elias nodded and sat back down at the controls.

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked as he watched the man’s fingers dance over the panel.

The captain leaned over Elias’s chair, ignoring Anakin’s question. “If we don’t hear from Ulin after we get there, take us to the alternate rendezvous point immediately.”

“Please!” Anakin shouted, adding the weight of the Force to his plea. “I have to get to Coruscant, and you have to take me.”

The girl looked over her shoulder at the captain as if she expected Anakin’s words to send him into a rage. The captain cleared his throat and stared back at Anakin with the steely eyes of one who was accustomed to being in command. “There is no way in hell,” he said in a quiet voice, “that I’m risking my ship and my crew to take you to Coruscant.”

Anakin bit the inside of his lip, a habit he’d acquired after spending too much time around Coruscanti politics. It generally prevented him from blurting out things he would regret. “You don’t understand,” he gritted out, eyes narrowed dangerously. “I must go.”

“For your own good, stay out of this affair.”

Master Windu’s words came back to him suddenly, mocking him. He tried to shake the memory from his mind, but it lingered, reminding him of why he so desperately needed to get home. His blood ran hot as he glared down at the captain. Only a criminal would feel that a trip to the Republic’s capital was a risk.

He locked eyes with the captain, who was still invisible in the Force. What was he? What kind of person could disappear like that? Was it a natural phenomenon? He couldn’t explain it, and that frightened him just a little.

Anakin struggled to suppress his fear and anger. He could almost hear Padmé screaming for him to help her. “I’m going to Coruscant one way or another, captain. Please don’t make me use force. I don’t want to hurt you or your crew.”

“You see, that’s where you’ve slipped up,” the captain murmured. “Anakin Skywalker was a guardian of peace and justice, not a desperate bully who stole starships from unsuspecting spacers. You couldn’t possibly be him.”

Anakin stared at the crew incredulously. These people are all crazy.

The captain smiled darkly. “And if you really were him, you could have prevented this.” As he finished speaking, Anakin felt something sharp pinch his neck. He twisted around to see a tall, dark-skinned boy holding a syringe, and then everything faded as he tumbled to the deck.

Chapter Text

“Wondered when you’d get here!”

Arden watched as Elias and Captain Dagen shook hands with the tall, thin older man who’d come out to greet them. Apparently a gifted slicer, Ulin was also their go-to man when it came to random supplies and technology. Arden liked him well enough, but he had a funny way of making her feel like she was out of the loop.

Not that she was really in the loop anyway. Captain Dagen was very private about his business. Ossus was just another example of that.

“Hello there, Arden!” Ulin said, nodding her way. “This one still treatin’ you right?” He cast a wry grin at Elias.

Arden smiled. “Yeah, I’ve got no complaints.” She walked over and looped her arm through Elias’s. “Got any food here, Ulin?”

The older man grinned and ran a hand through his short gray hair. “Sure, there’s some food on the Ho’Din. She’s docked on the other side of the complex.” He looked past Arden at the two boys coming down the ramp of the Daybreak. “Whatcha got there, boys?”

Kohr and Ames stopped and stared down at the stretcher between them. Before they could respond, Captain Dagen reached out and guided Ulin off to the side of the landing platform.

Arden frowned. “I really don’t like this, Elias.”

Elias shrugged. “I don’t like it either, but there’s not much we can do about it. We couldn’t just dump him out in space.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Arden replied impatiently.

“I don’t understand.” Elias glanced over at Dagen and Ulin. “You mean them?”

Arden nodded.

“They’re just talking about the stowaway, that’s all.”

“What about that datapad he stole from the Sith? Doesn’t he need Ulin to do something with it?”

“I don’t know.”

Arden shook her head. “Why are we stealing from the Sith?”

“We always steal from the Sith, Arden. Come on, let’s go get something to eat.” Elias started to pull her toward the building Ulin had emerged from. It looked like an old military bunker – appropriate, given the desolate, abandoned nature of the planet they’d landed on. Arden had never heard of the Heibic system before today, but apparently it was a place Dagen, Ulin, and even Elias knew well. She got the feeling they’d hidden out here many times.

Arden resisted Elias’s pull for a moment. Yes, they frequently stole from the Sith because the Sith owned everything. Whenever they smuggled goods or robbed a weapons dealer, they were stealing from the Sith. But they’d never, ever, come anywhere near one of the Sith worlds. There was a difference. The mysterious Force users might have carved out an empire, but there were only a few planets they truly called home.

The forbidden worlds.

Arden had heard plenty of stories about Ossus. Enough to know that no one in their right mind would choose to venture there.

Well, she’d always had doubts about Captain Dagen’s sanity.

Arden finally let Elias steer her toward the bunker. For the moment, she tried to push aside her worries and focus on the food that awaited her on the Happy Ho’Din. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she caught sight of Kohr and Ames carrying the stretcher with their stowaway on it, and her appetite began to fade.

I have a bad feeling about this.

The first thing he knew for certain was that he was standing on some precipice. The second thing he knew was that Padmé was screaming for help.

“Padmé!” he cried out, reaching into pitch darkness for something to hold onto, something to guide him back toward his wife.

“Anakin, help me!”

“Padmé!” he screamed. “Padmé!”

And then, without knowing how or why, he could see that he was falling.

Vision and color had returned with shocking clarity. He was tumbling off a cliff. The water below churned angrily against the rocks, waiting eagerly to welcome him into its cold embrace. He wondered – even as he fell – if he’d been pushed off the cliff or if he’d jumped.

It didn’t matter, really. The wind stung his eyes and his skin as the ocean rose rapidly to meet him. It didn’t matter how he’d come to be falling through the night sky. If he was pushed, he deserved it. If he’d jumped, then he had truly gone mad, and the galaxy was well rid of him.

He couldn’t hear Padmé’s screams. He couldn’t hear anything but the wind.

He was falling, one way or another, toward his fate. Toward the encompassing, passionless, inky black darkness that crashed against the cliff. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t change it. He was waiting to hit, waiting for the sweet relief of impact.

But it never came.

Arden stared at the gelatinous substance on her plate and wrinkled her nose. “Lovely,” she muttered, poking it with her spoon.

Elias leaned over and kissed her below the ear. “Just eat it,” he chided.

“You first,” she whispered back.

Elias raised an eyebrow, paused, then proceeded to shovel the muck into his mouth. After a few spoonfuls, he turned to Arden and gave her a big, sloppy grin. “’S’not bad.”

Arden laughed and shoved him playfully. “Shut up.”

“Hey, how’s the food? Good?”

Elias twisted around in his seat. “Yeah, it’s great, Ulin.”

Across the table, Kohr and Ames caught Arden’s attention and rolled their eyes in unison. She stifled a giggle.

Captain Dagen strode into the galley, picked up a jug of juice – at least Arden thought it was juice – and poured himself a cup. He took a sip, puckered his lips, and cleared his throat.

“Ames.”

The boy looked up. “Sir?”

“Need you to finish up and go check on our guest. Get him ready.”

Ames pushed his plate to the center of the table and stood up. “I’m on it.”

Dagen took another sip before setting the cup down. “Kohr, you remember where the monitors are?”

“Yeah, sure, Captain.”

“Get them up and running, I want to record this.”

Kohr banged his spoon down and jumped up from his seat. He and Ames bolted from the room. Ulin emerged from the kitchen and looked around the table. “Hey, where’d they go?”

Dagen smiled at Ulin and folded his arms across his chest. “Sorry, Ulin, I need them.”

“Aw, it’s fine, kid.”

Arden thought she saw something almost sad in the captain’s eyes at Ulin’s words, but when she didn’t notice it again she decided it was nothing. Dagen left the room, and Arden and Elias went back to their food.

Anakin awoke on a hard surface, vaguely aware of the throbbing pain in his forehead and right knee. He started to open his eyes but quickly shut them when he found himself staring straight into an orb of harsh white light. Covering his eyes with one hand, he rolled slightly to the left and propped himself up on his elbow.

“You’ll get used to it,” a voice said from behind him.

Anakin jerked his head toward the voice, cracking one eye open and holding up a hand to block the glare. “Where am I?” His words came out slurred. He tried to probe the room with the Force, but he couldn’t get a clear sense of anything in it. “What did you do to me?”

“Relax,” the voice said, closer this time. It was definitely male. “You were sedated. You’ve been out for six hours. It’ll be another hour or so before your senses all return to normal.”

Something dark blocked out the source of the light. Anakin opened his eyes as much as the remaining glare would allow. Standing over him was the boy who had drugged him earlier. The boy raised his eyebrows and gave him a wry grin. “I’m supposed to let the captain know when you’re ready for questioning.” He leaned in close to Anakin’s face. “You feel up for that?”

Anakin drew his head back, cringing at the burst of pain that accompanied the motion. “What kind of questioning?”

The boy waved nonchalantly. “The usual: name, rank, who sent you, do we have to kill you… you know. That kind of stuff.”

Anakin tried to ignore the pounding in his head. He probably wasn’t in the best of conditions for an interrogation – their plan, no doubt – but he was still desperate to know where he was and what was going on. Despite thirteen years of Jedi tutelage, patience was not one of his strengths.

“Sounds like fun,” he muttered. “Can I get up, or are you going to shoot one of those into me again?” He pointed at a tray of syringes on a table across the room.

The boy looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Not unless you get rowdy. Go ahead, sit up if you want.”

Anakin did so, slowly. “Where are we?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The boy smirked and turned his back on Anakin. He walked over to the table and picked up a datapad. “Sorry, but I’m not allowed to say.” He cocked his head to one side. “And don’t try any Force tricks. You’ll only make things worse for yourself.”

Anakin glared at the boy’s shoulder blades. “Why don’t you just take me to your captain?” So we can get this over with.

The boy turned around and shrugged. “If you think you’re ready—”

“I’m fine,” Anakin snapped.

“Suit yourself.” The boy walked over to one of two control panels on the far wall and entered a series of numbers. “Ames,” he spoke into the microphone, and part of the wall slid open to reveal another plain white room with a long white table in the center.

Anakin hopped down from his table and walked through the door, keeping his senses, if not his eyes, trained on the boy. It wasn’t helping much.

“You can sit there,” the boy – Ames – said, indicating a chair at the opposite end of the room. “Have fun.” He stepped away from the wall and closed the door, locking Anakin into the white room.

“Perfect,” Anakin said under his breath. He called on the Force’s healing energies to ease the throbbing in his head as he strode over to the chair and sat down. Quiet settled over him for the first time since he’d left the Council chambers. He could hear the faint pulse of the air cooling and purification system, filtering into the room through an unseen vent. He felt his heart beating in his chest, his blood pounding through his veins. He heard the whisper of his own breath, flowing slowly in and out.

It was then that he noticed his hands were shaking.

Anakin pulled them down under the table, out of sight of whoever might be watching. After a moment, he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

It didn’t matter where he was or who these people were. He was still one of the most powerful Jedi alive, and he would make that perfectly clear.

“Look at him in there. What’s he so smug about?” Arden peered at the monitor, watching their stowaway with a mixture of interest and disdain. She turned to look at Kohr, who was studying the monitor even more carefully than she had been. “Can you believe he said he was Anakin Skywalker?”

Kohr shook his head, silent as he gazed at the man on the screen. Arden rolled her eyes a little as she returned her attention to the monitor.

“Hey, is the volume up on that?” Ames called out, throwing his jacket across the back of a chair as he entered the room.

“I don’t know,” Arden answered. “I haven’t touched it.”

“Because I want to hear what he says, and the equipment’s faulty enough without you—”

“I said I didn’t touch it!” Arden threw her hands up in the air and whirled on Ames, who was now frozen in place a few steps away.

The young man whistled, and his eyes went wide. “Whoa, sorry. Didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“Where have you been?” Kohr mumbled, his eyes still glued to the monitor.

Arden threw Kohr a pointed look. “Don’t you have a computer to slice or something?”

Kohr waved her off. “Nah, I can do it later.” He squinted his eyes and leaned closer to the screen. “He does kind of look familiar, though, doesn’t he?”

Arden and Ames exchanged a glance before leaning over Kohr’s shoulders to get a better look.

“Hmm.” Arden scratched her chin and then straightened up. “Nope.”

“Oh, come on! Ames?”

“Never seen him before,” the other boy said with a shrug. “I would know; I just spent the last few minutes talking to him. Sorry.”

“Ah, what do you know?” Kohr propped both elbows on the console and rested his chin in his palms.

Arden quirked one eyebrow and glanced at Ames over Kohr’s head. “And you think I’m sensitive?”

“Shh! The captain just went in!” Kohr reached for a knob and cranked up the volume. Arden and Ames settled down into chairs on either side and leaned in to watch.

Arden felt a touch on her shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her seat. When she looked up she saw Elias smiling tightly.

“Hey,” he whispered, putting both hands on her shoulders.

“Hey. He’s about to start.”

Elias nodded. He bent over and kissed her on the cheek before giving his full attention to the monitor.

“So,” the captain said, his voice edged in static. “Why don’t you start by telling me your real name?”

Arden felt a chill run through her as she and the others stared into the stowaway’s hard eyes.

“We’re approaching the planet now, my lord.” The human male was bent down on one knee in the cockpit of a small freighter. In front of him, a cloaked figure opened his yellow eyes and stared out at the rust-colored planet below.

“Undetected?”

“We believe so, my lord. Sensors indicate no irregular activity on the surface.”

The cloaked man folded his hands under his chin and leaned forward, the cockpit lights making his green skin seem to glow. “Very well. Take us down.”

“So. Why don’t you start by telling me your real name?”

“I already told you.” Anakin probed the captain, but there was still no sense of him in the Force. It was as if he didn’t even exist.

The captain’s face was unreadable. “You’re not Anakin Skywalker. I know that for a fact.”

Anakin shook his head. “I think I know who I am.”

The other man placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, his calm veneer cracking just a little. “You must be crazy then, because Anakin Skywalker is dead.”

The words had the effect of silencing Anakin’s protests, if only for a moment. He stared into the captain’s dark eyes, trying to determine whether there was any truth to his words. It occurred to him that something might have happened, something that could have led the galaxy at large to believe he had died. The captain certainly seemed to believe so.

“How did he die?” Anakin said at last.

The captain raised his eyebrows. “Are you telling me you’re not Anakin Skywalker now?”

“I’m serious! I don’t know what’s going on!”

The man shook his head. “This isn’t funny,” he said as he turned and walked to the door. “You’re going to tell me the truth.”

Anakin uncrossed his arms and began to stand. The captain reached up and disconnected a small security camera hanging from the ceiling.

“I have been—”

Before he could finish, the captain whirled around and raised his hand, knocking Anakin backward into the wall with a blast of Force energy. He tried to resist, but with his reflexes still dulled by the sedative, he could do nothing but watch as the captain approached him.

“I know you’re powerful; I’m not doubting that. But when you insist on passing yourself off as a Jedi who has been dead for nearly fifty years, I have to conclude that you’re completely insane.” He made a shoving gesture with his hand, pressing Anakin even more firmly against the wall. “Are you insane? Or is this just a game to you?”

Anakin stopped trying to resist. “Fifty years?”

For the first time, the captain faltered. He used his free hand to grab Anakin’s chair and pull it over to the wall. Then he dropped Anakin in it.

“Forty-seven,” he said quietly, lowering his hand and his Force-grip on Anakin. Disbelief crept into his eyes. “Where did you come from? Are you a clone or something? One of the Emperor’s sick projects?”

“No,” Anakin insisted, shaking his head. Panic began to rise up in him. He felt darkness wash over everything and thought, for a moment, that he might be the cause of it. “I don’t know this Emperor. Please—”

“Captain, are you okay?”

Both men snapped their heads toward the comm. “Everything’s fine, Arden. Return to your duties.”

“’Fraid not, Captain,” a male voice cut in. “We’ve got incoming.”

The captain ran to the door. “Let me out, now!” He pulled out his comlink and spoke into it. “Attention, this is Captain Dagen.” The door slid open to reveal the man and woman from the cockpit. “Evacuate, I repeat, evacuate. Everyone to the Happy Ho’Din, immediately.”

Anakin stood up and took a few steps toward the others. The man from the cockpit – Elias, if he remembered correctly – grabbed the captain by the shoulder. “Why Ulin’s ship? What are you doing?”

Dagen nodded toward Anakin. “Take him and the others, and get out of here. I’m staying.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a datapad, and handed it to Elias. “Make sure Ulin gets this.”

“You don’t know how many there are!” the woman, Arden, exclaimed. “You could be severely outnumbered!”

Elias nodded. “Arden’s right. The odds of making it out of here—”

Dagen cut him off with a wave. “Never tell me the odds.” He put a hand on Elias’s forearm. “I’ll be fine, now go.” He looked back at Anakin and jerked his thumb toward the door. “You too.”

Anakin felt the weight of the dark side closing in, and he realized it was coming from above. He sensed at least four minds saturated in the dark energies. One was calmer than the others, like ice rather than fire. Cold, calculating, and patient.

“No,” he said. “Let me stay. I can help you.”

Dagen studied Anakin for a second before nodding his head. “Fine. Give him his lightsaber.”

The newcomers stared at their captain in disbelief. Elias shook his head. “Captain, no.”

Dagen turned and smiled. “It’ll be all right, Elias. Trust me.”

Elias narrowed his eyes at Anakin, but he reached into his jacket and pulled the lightsaber out. He tossed it in a low arc toward the other end of the room. As soon as the silver hilt slapped into Anakin’s hand, he felt a surge of energy, a renewal of purpose. His senses were nearly back to normal.

“Come on, let’s get going,” Dagen ordered. Anakin followed after him, leaving the interrogation room behind.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

An explosion rocked the bunker as Arden followed Elias back through the medbay and into the control room. He grabbed a bag and thrust it into her hands.

“Find all of the datatapes, chips, anything with information on it, and put them in this bag.”

Arden nodded and slid a stack of datapads into the bag while Elias and Ames started dumping the computers and monitors onto the floor. Kohr came over and took the bag from her, filling it with the rest of the data.

“Ames, the explosives,” Elias said, snapping his fingers. Ames tossed a package across the room. Arden tensed for a moment as it fell into Elias’s hand. He unwrapped the explosive device and placed it under a computer in the center of the pile. “Okay, let’s move.”

Elias grabbed Arden’s hand and pulled her to the front of their group as they ran toward the turbolift at the end of the corridor. Kohr aimed a remote back at the control room while Elias summoned the lift.

Arden drew closer to Elias. “It’s the Sith, isn’t it?” she whispered, watching the control room as another explosion rumbled through the bunker. No one answered. The lift door slid open behind them, and she followed Elias and Ames inside.

Elias nodded at Kohr. “Do it.”

Kohr hit the button on the remote, and a plume of flame erupted from the control room. He stepped backward into the turbolift, and the door closed.

Arden felt her heart pounding against her ribcage. She’d known this would happen; they should never have gone to Ossus. Almost as disturbing was the realization that her fellow crewmembers were unusually well-prepared for this situation.

The lift shuddered as it descended. The bunker was settled in the side of a rather large hill, and Ulin’s ship was docked in a hangar that jutted out from the bottom of the hill. When they’d first arrived, Arden had been annoyed that she had to trek from the surface to the basement, from the northwest corner to the southeast corner, just to get some food from the Ho’Din. Now, with the Sith coming from above, she was very thankful that they had an escape.

The three men exchanged uneasy glances as the lift shuddered again. Kohr looked up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe we left him alone with that guy,” he muttered.

Elias stared straight ahead at the door. “He’ll be fine.” He looked down at Arden and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “He can handle himself just fine.”

Arden nodded, watching the light above the door move from right to left. They were almost there.

The door opened on another control center, this one overlooking the hangar. There were three rooms, each separated from the others by a blast door. Arden and the others jogged through the rooms, closing each blast door behind them until they came to the last one.

“Why is this one closed?” Arden slapped her palms against the door. “Kohr?”

The young man flipped open the keypad. “I don’t have the code.” He looked up at the others. “Ulin should have been here already.”

There was another explosion, closer this time. Ames jumped.

“What the hell—?”

Arden backed up against the blast door. “They’re coming.”

“Our explosives aren’t strong enough to take out the door.” Kohr ripped the face off of the keypad and started rummaging through the wires. “I’m gonna have to hotwire this thing.”

Elias growled and pulled out his blaster. “You better do it fast, because it sounds like their explosives are strong enough.”

“I’m working on it!”

As Kohr fiddled with the wires, Ames took his holster off and handed it to Arden. She accepted it hesitantly. “What’s this for?”

The boy shrugged. “Just thought you’d feel better if you had a weapon.”

Another explosion, still closer. The Sith had to be through the first blast door. Arden shook her head and tried to give the blaster back. “Don’t you need it?”

Ames waved her away. “Naw.”

Elias closed his eyes and muttered something that Arden couldn’t make out. She buckled the holster around her hips and rested her right hand on the blaster.

“I think I’ve got it,” Kohr said, touching two wires together. As the blast door slid open, another explosion rocked the entire room, causing several ceiling panels to fall down. Arden and Elias jumped out of the way to avoid being crushed.

That was when Arden heard several angry voices coming from beyond the blast door.

“Come on!” Ames shouted, already heading through the doorway. “Come on, let’s go!”

Elias didn’t move. A strange look had crept into his eyes. He turned and gave Arden a half-smile. “I’ll stay and hold them off. You go with Kohr and Ames.”

Arden held onto Elias’s hand. “No, we can make it, come on!”

There was a crash on the other side of the blast door. Elias snapped his head toward the sound and raised his blaster.

“Elias…”

He pulled her close and kissed her. “Go.”

And then there was another sound, a low, steady beeping that set off warning bells in Arden’s head. Elias shoved her away as the door exploded in.

She fell to the floor hard, propelled by the energy of the blast. Heat rolled across her skin, so intense she was sure she was about to be incinerated.

Someone was pulling her up by the shoulders, but she couldn’t hear anything but the ringing in her ears, couldn’t think of anything but getting to Elias. She tried to crawl toward him, fighting the grip on her shoulders.

“No!” she screamed, her voice faint to her own ears. She looked up at the person holding her, saw Kohr’s face, saw his lips moving, eyes staring over her, shouting something, something…

“Elias!” Kohr’s voice returned in an explosion of sound.

Arden turned to find Elias, expecting the worse. But as she twisted out of Kohr’s grip, she realized someone else was standing over her, and they were all only centimeters away from a solid wall of fire.

“Get her out of here!” Elias yelled over his shoulder. His arms were outstretched, reaching toward the fire, almost as if he was pushing it away. He winced and drew his head back. “A little help?”

Kohr lifted Arden up and dragged her away from the blast. She watched in disbelief as Ames ran to Elias’s side, lifted a hand, and pushed the wall of flames back through the blast door. As the fire subsided, Arden heard a new sound, a buzzing, hissing sound that she didn’t recognize. Elias and Ames pulled twin metal rods from their jackets and stepped in front of the smoldering doorway. The last thing Arden saw before Kohr carried her out of the room was a flash of green and blue light.

“What exactly are we dealing with here?” Anakin asked as he jogged slightly behind the captain.

“The Lessers,” Dagen replied absently. He turned a corner, and the floor began to incline.

Anakin was about to ask what he meant when Dagen stopped and pulled his lightsaber from his jacket.

“Do you feel that?” Dagen asked.

Anakin frowned. “Three lifeforces, coming straight at us.”

Dagen glanced at him and nodded. “I guess you’re not a complete fraud.”

“I already told you—”

The captain held up a hand and smirked. “It was a joke.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for the joking type.”

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone.” Dagen activated his lightsaber. “Ready?”

Anakin’s saber ignited with a snap-hiss. “Let’s go.”

They jogged down the corridor, Anakin following after the captain. The incline grew steeper as they approached what Anakin could only assume was the surface. The three lifeforms were very close now – Anakin could make out some of the differences between their presences. As he had earlier, he sensed that one of the intruders was very calm and dispassionate. The other two were hot with anger, but he sensed restraint as well. They weren’t just here to kill.

“They’re looking for something,” he said between breaths.

The captain didn’t say anything, and Anakin still couldn’t feel anything from him either, but he sensed that he had hit on the truth.

One of the intruders dropped back and headed in a different direction, but the other two continued forward. The corridor ahead split and went off in two directions. Before they reached the fork in the corridor, Dagen stopped and put out a hand to keep Anakin back. He raised a finger to his lips and then closed his eyes.

There was a crash from one of the passageways.

“Watch it, shufa!” a voice hissed. Anakin recognized a distinct Trandoshan accent.

“Quiet!” another male replied. “That was a ceiling panel.”

“They’re close.”

Dagen lifted a hand and then dropped it. There were several more crashes and an angry yell. While the Trandoshan and his companion were still shouting, the captain swung around the corner and charged at them. Anakin followed right behind him.

The Trandoshan was caught beneath one of the fallen ceiling panels, but as soon as he saw Anakin and Dagen running at him, he roared and flung the panel at them. Anakin raised a hand and stopped the metal sheet mid-flight while Dagen ducked under it and thrust his lightsaber at the Trandoshan’s human companion. Anakin dropped the panel and brandished his lightsaber, moving to intercept the Trandoshan.

The corridor was narrow, and Anakin put himself back-to-back with Dagen as the two intruders ignited lightsabers.

“Jedi scum,” the human said with a leer.

Dagen flipped his wrists and knocked the man’s saber upward. He kicked the human in the chest, sending him into the wall. Anakin spared Dagen a short glance before returning his attention to the towering Trandoshan.

“You’re all going to burn,” the alien hissed as their lightsabers locked. He bared his teeth in a gruesome smile.

Dagen appeared at Anakin’s elbow and joined him against the Trandoshan. “You guys really need to come up with some new threats,” he said.

The three combatants pivoted around each other, and Anakin caught sight of the human male lying on the ground, a lightsaber wound smoking in his chest.

“That was quick,” Anakin murmured, blocking a blow.

“Wasn’t hard,” was all Dagen said.

Their opponent growled. “You will pay for that.”

Dagen pushed forward with his weapon, putting the Trandoshan on the defensive. “Whatever you say, big guy.”

The alien smiled again. “That’s right, Jedi. Whatever I say.”

Anakin felt the floor beneath him rumble as if from an explosion. He sensed a mixture of panic and anticipation from below.

“Focus,” Dagen warned.

There was another explosion. The Trandoshan used his size and weight to push Anakin and the captain backward. Free for a moment, he roared and lifted a hand to chest level.

Anakin’s eyes widened. He recognized that gesture.

Both Anakin and Dagen raised their lightsabers as lightning exploded from the alien’s fingertips.

Arden fought back as Kohr grabbed her hand and began to run. “Come on,” he urged, “we’ve got to get out of here.”

“We can’t just leave them!”

“We’re not, they’re just buying time for us to get the ship running.”

Arden tried to look back, but Kohr was running too fast. “I don’t understand… what’s going on…” She fought for breath as they sprinted toward the hangar.

“I’ll explain later.” Kohr pulled a small remote from his pocket and aimed it at the far end of the corridor. A sliver of white light appeared and grew larger as the hangar door opened.

Tears sprang into her eyes as she stumbled after Kohr. They had abandoned Elias to the Sith. They had let him be their sacrifice. She tried to struggle against Kohr one more time, but his hand was like a vise on hers. They ran through the hangar entrance and climbed the ramp of the Happy Ho’Din.

Kohr didn’t let go of her until they were in the cockpit; then he dropped her in the co-pilot’s chair. He rushed around the cabin, flipping switches and turning knobs. He even punched the console once or twice. Arden stared numbly out the viewport at the hangar entrance, praying for Elias to appear.

“Ulin should have been here,” Kohr said, more to himself than to her. He punched the console again. “Piece of junk…” He stopped suddenly and looked around the cabin before grabbing the comlink off his belt. “Captain? Captain Dagen?”

There was nothing but static.

“Dammit!” Kohr gulped down several deep breaths as the engines started to whine. “Ha! There we go. Now, Arden, I need you to—”

“Look!” she interrupted, jumping up from her seat. Elias and Ames were sprinting full speed into the hangar, moving faster than she’d ever seen a human run. And in their hands were… lightsabers?

She didn’t have time to process it, because hot on their trail were two men in black, both of them also wielding lightsabers. Arden’s blood went cold at the sight of the Sith.

“Aw, great,” Kohr growled. “Arden, get the ship in the air!”

“But where are you going?”

“To help them!” He ran from the cockpit, and the next Arden saw of him, he was outside of the ship, rushing toward the Sith.

Elias and Ames had turned around, and now each of them were fighting a Sith on their own. Elias was a fairly powerfully-built man, but the Sith he was fighting was enormous. Arden fumbled with the controls as she watched them.

“Come on, come on,” she urged the ship, glancing down at the controls. She barely knew how to pilot anything, let alone Ulin’s junk ship. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elias go down.

“NO!” She yanked back on the stick, and the ship jolted into the air.

Kohr fired off several shots at the Sith, distracting him long enough for Elias to jump to his feet and resume the fight. Kohr joined him, activating a green lightsaber and rushing headlong at the Sith.

Arden steered the ship toward her friends, turning it so that the ramp was facing them. Just before she lost sight of them, Ames knocked the other Sith’s lightsaber away and kicked him square in the chest. Then he raised his hand, and the Sith flew across the room, crashing into a stack of crates.

The next thing she knew, Elias was in the cockpit, sliding into the captain’s seat. “Everybody strap in,” he ordered, flipping a few switches above his head.

“Wait!” Ames shouted from the corridor. “It’s Ulin!”

“Where?” Elias yelled back.

“Just hold steady, Kohr’s getting him!”

Elias stared at the side wall of the cockpit as if seeing beyond it. “Better hurry it up!”

Arden glanced back and forth between Elias and the corridor. “You didn’t kill them?”

Elias shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” Arden flailed her hands in the air. She was still having trouble with the whole lightsaber thing. “How can you not know?”

Elias winced. “Well, I dropped a big light fixture on them, but I’m pretty sure they’re still alive.”

She was about to ask how he’d managed to drop a light fixture on them when he reached over and pulled her gently toward him. Arden felt a swell of relief as he kissed her.

“Hang onto something,” he said.

Before Arden could respond, Ames came up behind them and leaned down in between their seats. “Ulin’s on board, let’s get moving!”

Elias pulled back on the throttle, and the ship shot through the open roof. As the Happy Ho’Din broke free of the planet’s atmosphere, Arden leaned back in her seat and finally had time to wonder just what the hell had happened down there.

“I think you made him mad!” Anakin shouted over the crackle and crash of electricity.

Dagen squinted his eyes against the light. “How do you know it wasn’t you?”

Anakin smirked, and for a moment he could almost imagine he was back home, fighting alongside Obi-Wan.

The Trandoshan stepped toward them, the stream of lightning intensifying. “My master is coming, Jedi, and when he arrives, you will pay.”

Dagen turned his head to Anakin. “Can you handle this alone?” he murmured so that only Anakin could hear him.

Anakin nodded. He thought he knew what the captain had in mind. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Dagen deactivated his lightsaber, and the lightning was redirected to Anakin’s blade. He held firm against the lightning as Dagen lifted his arms to the ceiling. The remaining panels above the Trandoshan began to tremble and shift. Dagen jerked his hands toward the floor, and the ceiling came tumbling down onto their opponent.

Through the dust and debris, Anakin saw another figure appear at the end of the corridor. It was a Falleen male in dark robes – the cool, calculating presence he had sensed earlier. The Falleen’s eyes shifted from Anakin to Dagen and widened.

“You!” he shouted.

Dagen grabbed Anakin by the arm. “And that’s our cue.” He pulled Anakin in the opposite direction; the floor continued to shake as more explosions ripped through the bunker. Dagen stopped underneath a vent and proceeded to cut the grated vent cover with his lightsaber.

“What—?”

“Be quiet and get up there,” Dagen said as the grate fell between them. He pulled a tiny silver ball out of his pocket and clicked a switch on it.

“Is that—?”

“A miniature detonator. Thermal.” He glanced at Anakin. “Go.”

Anakin jumped up into the air shaft as Dagen threw the detonator down the corridor. He began to crawl along the shaft away from the detonator, and he heard the captain follow him into the shaft.

“That blast should block them in long enough for us to escape,” Dagen said.

Anakin winced as his hand nicked a piece of twisted metal that jutted up from the bottom. “How much time do we have?”

“About ten seconds.” The captain laughed. “Don’t worry; we’re past the blast radius.”

“And those two back there?”

“They’ll probably live. That Falleen is far more skilled than the others.”

The shaft and the corridor below shook violently from the force of the thermal detonation. Anakin continued forward, trying to ignore his now ringing ears.

Dagen shouted something at him. “What?” Anakin yelled, coming to a halt.

“I said we’re almost there. When you get to the end, push the grate out and head for the ship.”

“Right.” Anakin crawled ahead. The air shaft was becoming tighter around him, but he squeezed his way through. He saw several thin rays of light spilling into the shaft. The metal trembled from another explosion far below.

Anakin came to the end of the tunnel and pushed against the grate. It took a few blows, but the grate came off and clattered to the floor of the hangar. Resting at the center of the room was the ship Anakin had boarded on Ossus. He and Dagen emerged from the air shaft and ran to the ship. Dagen opened the hatch and motioned for Anakin to get on board. He pulled out a comlink and flipped it on.

“Elias.”

There was no response – only static.

“Damn,” the captain muttered, inspecting the device. “Looks like I broke it somewhere back there.”

Anakin stood on the ramp, watching him. “I’m sure they’re okay.”

Dagen ignored him and climbed the ramp, closing it once he reached the top. Anakin hurried after him. He reached the cockpit just behind the captain, who was already powering up the ship.

“Sit down,” Dagen ordered. Anakin bristled at his tone, but he did as the man said. The ship rose into the air, and the ceiling overhead retracted, revealing a gray sky. Dagen pulled back on the controls, and the ship rocketed toward the atmosphere, leaving the bunker and the planet behind.

Anakin glanced over at Dagen, but the other man continued to ignore him. Now that they were out of immediate danger, Anakin sensed that he was going to be under heavy scrutiny once more.

It was going to be a long flight, indeed.

Darth Dominius had every right to be furious as he felt his enemies’ presences grow distant, but instead he was somewhat amused. His surviving comrades had suffered only minor injuries, and only one apprentice had been killed. Force knew there were plenty of replacements throughout his master’s empire.

“I will prepare the ship, my lord,” one of his servants informed.

Dominius waved him away. “Go heal yourself. I will handle the ship.”

“Yes, sir.” The Trandoshan apprentice bowed low before limping away. Dominius closed the cockpit door behind him.

He withheld a laugh as he powered up the ship. Under any other circumstances he probably would have overcome his reptilian heritage and become angry about failing his mission. Not today, though. He had good news for his master.

A miniature holographic image of the Sith Master appeared before him. “My lord,” Dominius greeted, bowing his head.

“Lady Varice informs me that the thieves stole information on the Vjun project.”

Dominius smirked inwardly. Always straight to the point. “They were Jedi, my lord. Jedi thieves.”

“Did you reacquire the data?”

“Not yet. They split up and escaped. I lost one man.”

“Send word to Ossus. I want Lord Raze and Lady Varice to lead the search for these Jedi. You are to return to Coruscant immediately.” He paused for a moment, as if reaching across space to peer into his minion’s heart. “Is there something else, my apprentice?”

Dominius hesitated. It still surprised him that his master could read him like that from so far away. “There was a man with them, my lord. He felt like… well, he seemed to be a locus of energy.”

His master didn’t even blink. The image wavered for a moment before regaining clarity. “A locus?” the Sith Master repeated.

Dominius nodded swiftly. “Indeed, my lord. A very powerful presence, filled with confusion and doubt. I sensed much fear and darkness in him.”

His master seemed to turn it over in his mind. “And you have no idea who this man is?”

Dominius took a deep breath. “No, my lord. I have never seen him before.”

“Very well. We shall investigate this mysterious Force-user at a later time. Do you have anything else to add to this report?”

“Yes, my lord. I request permission to personally lead the search for these thieves.”

“Why?”

This time Dominius smiled, an act that his reptilian features made particularly eerie. “Because I believe I have found Skywalker and Cain after all this time.”

Once the ship entered hyperspace, Captain Dagen leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Anakin stared at him for a moment, waiting for the interrogation to resume.

After five minutes of silence, Anakin realized the captain wasn’t going to say anything. He cleared his throat.

“I’m not lying to you about who I am,” he said slowly.

The captain didn’t say a word. He did open his eyes, but his gaze remained on the starlines outside of the cockpit.

“I’m sorry about—”

“Look, I appreciate your help back there,” Dagen said abruptly. “But you have to know how crazy you sound with this Anakin Skywalker thing.”

Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I told you. I’m not a clone, I don’t know any Emperor, and I’m just as confused as you are.”

“Fortunately for us, there’s someone here who can verify your story.” He rose from his seat. “Come with me.”

Anakin stood and followed Dagen out of the cockpit. They walked down the main corridor, turning off into a darkened service passage. A shower of sparks spilled into the passage ahead, and Anakin squinted his eyes in the dim light to see the source of those sparks.

“A droid?” he whispered.

Dagen took a few more steps down the passage and turned toward the niche where the droid was working. “You can come out now.”

An astromech droid emerged from the niche and rolled toward Anakin.

“This is our trusty mechanic,” Dagen said. “He came aboard on Heibic 3 while you were unconscious.”

The droid entered the light, and Anakin had to blink several times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

“Artoo?”

The droid stopped as if uncertain whether to go any further. Anakin felt his heart ache. Here, finally, was someone who might understand – who would understand.

“Artoo, it’s me.”

The little droid swiveled its dome toward the captain. The two looked at each other for a moment before the captain nodded for R2-D2 to proceed.

The droid let out several short whistles and beeps.

“He says that although Anakin Skywalker died forty-seven standard years ago at the Battle of Endor, he cannot deny that the resemblance is striking.”

Anakin experienced a swell of dark resentment. “I know what he said.” He narrowed his eyes at the captain.

Dagen didn’t respond, but there was something unusual in his expression, a combination of irritation and disbelief. He waved at the droid. “Thanks, Artoo. You can return to your duties.” Dagen pushed past Anakin without another word, leaving him in the service passage.

Anakin hesitated for a moment as he watched Artoo roll back to his station, seemingly unaffected by their encounter. Then Anakin spun around and ran after Dagen. “Hey, wait!”

He emerged from the passage to find Dagen walking into another room slightly down the corridor. Anakin rushed into the room, realizing as he did so that it was the captain’s private quarters. Dagen’s back was to the door. He had his hands planted on a small desk, his head bent as if in prayer. Anakin felt a surge of impatience.

“What did you do to my droid?” he growled.

Dagen let out a gruff laugh. “You’ve got some explaining to do,” he said, pulling something from his eyes. “Because if by some infinitesimal chance you really are who you say you are, then that would make me your grandson.”

Anakin’s mouth opened involuntarily as the captain turned to face him. “My what?”

The captain stared back at him with blue eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “My name isn’t Dagen. It’s Ben Skywalker, so you’d better start at the beginning.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

Arden watched the lights on the landing pad grow larger as the Happy Ho’Din began its descent. It was night on this side of Nar Shaddaa, and the port area was aglow with flashing neon signs advertising various less than reputable businesses. Despite being a notorious hideout for criminals, the Smugglers’ Moon was anything but discreet.

The Ho’Din settled onto the platform, letting out a hiss of steam. Arden continued to stare out the viewport as Elias began shutting down the ship’s systems. After a moment, he turned to her.

“I’m sorry, Arden.”

She picked one bright green sign to focus on. It invited patrons to enjoy “Exotic Females Nightly.”

“I should have told you.”

“You said that already,” Arden answered.

They sat in silence, listening to the other passengers moving around outside of the cockpit. Rain began to speckle the viewport, plopping gently against the ship. Arden stared at the lower left corner of the viewport, watching one raindrop grow larger as it made a trail toward the bottom of the window. The door opened, and Ames walked in.

“I got a signal from the safe house.”

Elias frowned and turned to look at Ames. “Who?”

“Guess.”

Elias narrowed his eyes at the boy.

Ames rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. It was Myri.”

Elias sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I guess we weren’t as far off the grid as we thought.”

“Well, it is Myri we’re talking about.”

“True.”

Arden didn’t even try to guess who this Myri was or why she was waiting for them on Nar Shaddaa. She was still reeling from everything that had happened, especially the discovery that for the last six months she’d been in a relationship with one of the most wanted Jedi Knights in the galaxy.

“Who are you?” She tried to be demanding, but it came out more like a plea.

Elias didn’t look at her at first. “I lied to you about my last name. It’s not Till. It’s Cain.” He took a deep breath and turned toward her. “I’m a Jedi Knight.”

Arden pressed her lips together and nodded. Then she slapped him across the face. The crack echoed in the cockpit.

“Why?” she asked, her eyes hot with tears.

“We were deep undercover. I couldn’t tell you.”

“So you were using me?”

He glanced up quickly. “No! It wasn’t like that. I never meant to get you involved in all this.”

Arden looked away. “Yeah, well you did.”

“I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

Arden felt her lower lip trembling. She covered her mouth with one hand.

“Arden…”

“Just leave me alone.”

She didn’t say anything else to him for the rest of the trip. In all honesty, she hadn’t really known what else to say. The war between the Jedi and the Sith had torn the galaxy apart, and all she’d wanted to do was make her own way while staying off the Empire’s radar. How was she supposed to react to the news that she’d been employed by Jedi for the last six months, that the man she’d hoped might become her lover was actually the notorious Jedi Cain? How could Elias expect her to react any differently?

“We’d better get moving,” Elias said, interrupting her thoughts. Arden stared blankly at him, pulling the anger and hurt inside.

Ames cleared his throat. “Kohr and Ulin are waiting outside. The way seems clear.”

Elias reached up and switched off the cockpit lights. “With Myri here, I’m not surprised.”

Arden followed Elias and Ames out of the ship to where Kohr and Ulin were silently waiting for them. None of the men spoke; they each looked around, examining the shadows. Out here in the open air, Arden felt extremely vulnerable. She wanted to reach for Elias, just for reassurance, but she held back.

“Why are we—?”

Ulin raised a finger to his lips and shushed her.

“Not until we reach the safe house,” Elias whispered in her ear. “Someone’s always listening.”

Arden nodded and took a step closer to the others, waiting for something to happen.

The shadows stirred, and a cloaked figure stepped out into the light. Arden tensed up, but she noticed a smile creeping onto Ames’s face. The boy strode forward to meet this stranger. After a moment, the others followed. Arden saw two pale hands reach out from the cloak to grasp first for Ames, then for Kohr. Ulin received a hug, and Elias was greeted with a bowed head. Arden wasn’t sure if the mysterious figure had nodded at her as well, but it was over quickly, and the stranger was already leading them into the city.

Ben Skywalker sat on one side of the dejarik board, staring at the man who was, despite all odds, his grandfather. He placed a hand on the board and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There were a million things he wanted to ask him. Things about his father, about the old Jedi Order.

Things about the dark side, mostly.

None of those questions made it past his lips. Instead, he locked eyes with Anakin Skywalker – Darth Vader – and waited.

His grandfather cleared his throat, interrupting the uncomfortable silence. “Is there a problem?”

Besides the obvious? “No,” Ben answered, removing his hand from the board and breaking eye contact. “It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

“But you do believe me?” There was a powerful earnestness in his voice, an almost childlike desire to be trusted and depended on. Even without the Force it would have been compelling.

Ben nodded. “As crazy as it all sounds, I do.”

Anakin let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

“But how did you know I was telling the truth? I could have been lying about being your grandson.”

Anakin looked away for a moment. “It wouldn’t have been a very good lie. It’s not exactly common knowledge that I’m going to be a father.” He rubbed his hands together slowly. “Jedi aren’t supposed to have families.”

Ben didn’t fail to notice the bitterness in his grandfather’s voice. It sent a chill up his spine. He thought at first that his emotions were playing tricks on him, that he was searching for signs of the darkness that would turn this man into Darth Vader. But as Anakin continued to rub his palms together, Ben saw how pale he was, how dark and sunken his eyes were. The man was afraid, confused, and sleep-deprived. Not a good combination for someone destined to turn to the dark side.

“I didn’t realize the old Order didn’t allow families,” Ben said carefully. Even at its peak, the New Jedi Order’s information on the Old Republic Jedi was full of holes. “Families are common among Jedi in this time.”

Anakin nodded his head silently, staring at the dejarik board. “So,” he said after a moment, his tone indicating he wished to change the subject. “Were you on an undercover mission?”

Ben frowned. “Huh? Oh, the eyes. Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

His grandfather pressed his lips together and leaned back in his seat. “It seems like there are still plenty of Dark Jedi to deal with in your time. Some things never change.”

Ben smirked. “Those weren’t your average Dark Jedi, Gramps.”

Anakin made a face. “Gramps?”

“No? I kinda like it.”

“I kinda don’t. You can just call me Anakin.”

“Oh, all right.” Ben leaned back in his chair, mimicking the other man’s posture. “Anakin. Those were the Lessers. Sith apprentices of varying degree, all of them lower than the Master and his Lords.”

Anakin’s eyes widened. Ben was getting used to that look on his face.

“How many Sith are there in this time?”

Ben wondered how much he should tell him. Would it make a difference what he revealed? Telling him about the Empire certainly couldn’t make things worse, he supposed. Still, he was hesitant.

“We don’t have exact figures. A few dozen Lords. Several hundred Lessers, possibly a thousand. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers of various Force sensitivities. Compared to the military forces of any number of worlds, their size hardly seems worth mentioning.” Ben gave Anakin a knowing look. “But you and I both realize how powerful a single misguided Force-user can be. A whole army was nearly unstoppable.”

Anakin shook his head, lost somewhere inside his thoughts. Ben could sense confusion, doubt, even fear. Yes, there was definitely a large amount of fear clouding his grandfather’s presence.

“I don’t understand how Sidious could have built up an army of Sith under our noses. We thought there were only tw—”

“Sidious?” That was a name Ben hadn’t heard in a long time. He’d always thought of Palpatine as simply the Emperor, the focal point of evil, the nightmarish specter that was used to frighten children into behaving. The demented puppet master who shaped the galaxy in his own image, whose brilliant schemes accounted for every possibility, even those that couldn’t be predicted.

Well, all except for one. The most important one.

The true power of the light.

Ben wished he could have seen that power firsthand, wished he could have seen his grandfather hurl the Emperor down that shaft in a final act of defiance against the darkness.

“He’s not responsible for this,” Ben continued. “Not directly, anyway.”

“How do you mean?”

The whole, terrible truth would take time to explain, and Ben wasn’t ready for that yet. He needed to rest, to regain his footing. Just being in the same room with the man who was both destructor and savior of the Jedi Order was causing him to lose focus. Maybe once they reached their destination, he would tell Anakin what had happened to the galaxy he knew.

“Not now,” he said. “We’ll be arriving on Tatooine in a few hours. Maybe then my head will stop spinning long enough for me to explain.”

Anakin didn’t argue. In fact, he looked almost contemplative. “What business do you have on Tatooine?”

“You’ll see.”

The safe house was nestled between a pawn shop and a junk store in one of the less frequently trafficked areas of Nar Shaddaa. Arden followed close behind Elias and Kohr as they turned the corner, passing the front window of the pawn shop. Ahead of them Ames, Ulin, and the mysterious hooded figure had stepped off the path and pressed themselves flush against the wall. After a few seconds they disappeared from sight. Kohr glanced over his shoulder as he approached the keypad on the wall. By the time Arden and Elias joined him there, a door slid open, and they stepped through.

The first thing Arden saw was a long, narrow corridor dimly lit by blue lights. Ames was standing alone at the very end of the corridor, looking down what appeared to be a flight of stairs. The lights gave his dark skin an eerie glow. Arden realized he was whispering to someone out of view, perhaps standing at the bottom of the steps. He made a shooing gesture with his hand, looking behind him as he did so.

“It’s all right, Ames,” Elias shouted down the hall. “Arden’s not going to tell anyone.”

Ames looked embarrassed, or maybe nervous. Arden couldn’t tell which. She was a little surprised that he was apprehensive about her being here. They’d worked together for months without much incident.

She reminded herself that he was a Jedi, and Jedi were known for their secretive natures.

They joined Ames at the top of the steps. Far below, at the base of the steep staircase, stood the hooded figure.

Next to Arden, Elias smiled. “You can take the hood off now.”

The figure shrugged and reached its pale hands toward the hood. With a flutter of material and a murmur of discontent, the hood was flung back, revealing a young girl with copper-red hair and eyes that appeared – at least from where Arden was standing – to be as gray as durasteel. She couldn’t have been any older than fourteen or fifteen, not with that face. But the way she stared up at them, as though she could read their minds and souls, made her seem far older. It might have been a trick of the light, Arden thought, because as soon as they began to descend the stairs, the look was gone, and in its place was the fresh excitement of youth.

“What took you so long?” the girl asked with mock severity, her eyes lingering on Kohr and Ames.

Ames grinned as he and Kohr each slung an arm over her shoulders. They towered over the girl. “We ran into some old friends.”

Instead of being amused, the girl looked past them, her eyes searching the stairwell. “Where’s Ben?” she asked, a frantic edge creeping into her voice. “Isn’t he meeting you here? You didn’t leave him, did you?” She ducked out from under their arms and rushed toward the stairwell.

“Allana!”

Everyone in the corridor, including Arden, turned to look at the woman who had spoken. Wearing a dark jacket and pants with a Corellian bloodstripe down the side, she couldn’t have been past her early thirties. Her short blonde hair was covered by a lopsided cap of unknown military origin, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. “You know you would have felt it. Ben’s fine, right, boys?”

Elias nodded, grinning wryly at the sight of this newcomer. For a moment, Arden felt a twinge of jealousy. “It’d take more than a few Sith to kill Ben Skywalker.”

Arden felt her eyes widen as she turned and stared up at Elias. No, he couldn’t have said what she thought he did. There was no way. No way at all that she’d spent six months cooped up with the most wanted Jedi, the most wanted felon, the most wanted anything in the entire galaxy.

It just wasn’t possible. Captain Dagen was unusual, a little scary sometimes, but the ragtag leader of the resistance against the Empire?

No. She refused to believe it.

Oh, Force be damned, how did she get herself into this mess?

Elias had moved away to shake hands with the older woman. Arden shook her head to clear her thoughts and followed after him.

“He’s probably halfway to Tatooine by now,” Elias was saying.

“No doubt.” The woman finally seemed to notice Arden standing at Elias’s elbow. “This must be Arden Veiss.”

Arden blinked her eyes several times before responding with a very articulate and sophisticated, “Huh?”

The other woman extended her hand toward Arden. “Myri Antilles. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dumbfounded, Arden took the woman’s hand and let her shake it. “Yeah, same here.”

“Wait a second, wait a second,” Elias cut in. “How did you know who she was?”

Just what I was going to ask, Arden thought.

Myri gave Elias a pointed look that clearly said, “Where have you been?”

“You knew,” Elias said after a moment, looking a little betrayed. “You knew all along what we were up to.”

“Of course.”

Elias groaned. “Ben told you, didn’t he?”

Myri just smiled at him. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.” She glanced around the room, eyes falling on Kohr and Ames, then Ulin. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you from afar. Ben contacted me one time at the beginning of your little mission, asked me to dig up any dirt on Arden Veiss before you took off for Ord Mantell.” She smiled at Arden, a cheerful, unexpected smile. “I told him except for a short juvenile record, the girl was clean, and you all shipped out.”

“But then how did you know we’d be here today?”

Myri shook her head. “Elias Cain, after all these years, it’s like you don’t even know me.” She placed a hand over her heart. “I’m hurt, I really am.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the younger girl, Allana, spoke up, winking at Myri. “It’s been three days of this. I’m glad you’re all here, finally.”

Ulin, who had been silent until now, laughed heartily. “Listen to that one! And I always thought you were the quiet type.”

Allana stuck her tongue out at him, an act which made her look even younger. “Most of the time, yes, but I can only take so much of the famous Antilles sense of humor.” She gestured toward Kohr and Ames to follow her. “C’mon, let’s let the grown-ups talk.”

“I am a grown-up!” Kohr protested as they disappeared into another room.

“Ah, shut it, you’re barely eighteen,” Ames mumbled. He closed the door behind him.

Myri looked after them with a hint of something wistful in her eyes. Nostalgia, maybe? “Kids,” she muttered, chuckling. “Bet it’s been fun sharing a ship with those two boys, huh?” She was talking to Elias, but her eyes were on Arden.

“Yeah, it’s been interesting,” Elias replied.

Myri jumped suddenly. “Where are my manners? Come on in, we’ll go to the commons and get something to eat. I’ll fill you in on everything that’s been happening.”

Uncertain about her current situation but feeling a bit more reassured by the friendliness of their hosts, Arden stayed by Elias’s side as they followed Myri Antilles into the common room. She didn’t have to forgive him yet for everything that had happened, but she didn’t mind being close to him for now.

He was still her boyfriend, after all.

Tatooine.

It seemed almost a lifetime since he’d been there, a lifetime since he’d buried his mother and destroyed whatever innocence had remained inside him. Since then he’d crossed the galaxy, visiting even more of those far away worlds a nine-year-old boy had once promised to see. This time, though, his missions weren’t ones of peace, but of war.

His mother’s eyes, so full of love and pride for her Jedi son… she had not lived to see the irony.

The first time he left Tatooine it was to become a guardian of justice. He spent ten years on Coruscant and any number of planets, learning and training and living alongside Obi-Wan. There were dangers, yes. There were tragedies, but always at the end of each mission, of each trial, there was a light shining out at him, promising rest and sanity and salvation.

After his return to Tatooine three years ago, that light had faded to but a shadow of its former brilliance. The Clone Wars had begun immediately after, threatening to tear the Republic, the Jedi Order, and the galaxy apart. For a while he was able to convince himself that there was hope of victory, that it was even fun sometimes to lead his troops into battle against the droid armies. But as each successive separation from Padmé grew longer, and as more and more of his friends and followers died, the darkness slid through the cracks. It was always there now, whispering to him of things he shouldn’t know, as intimate as a lover.

Even here in a future that he could no longer affect, it spoke to him.

Anakin stood with his hands clasped at the small of his back, staring at the splotchy brown surface of the planet growing larger in the viewport. Ben had already slid into the pilot’s seat, making the final adjustments for their approach. Anakin remained standing, eyes still fixed on his old home. He’d never realized before how dead it looked. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought no life could survive there.

All things die, Anakin Skywalker.

He inhaled with a sharp hiss. Ben looked up at him, his face impassive.

“Something wrong?”

Anakin shook his head, embarrassed by the slip. “It’s nothing, just memories.”

Ben nodded slowly, returning his attention to the controls.

With a mental sigh, Anakin allowed himself to drift outward into the currents of the Force. He was still having trouble believing that this was not just a dream, that he wouldn’t be waking up to find Padmé next to him. But the evidence was there in the fabric of the Force. It was familiar, yet so different. Nothing was the way he remembered it, and that above all was what told him this was really happening. The Separatists might have been able to craft this elaborate lie with the help of their Sith masters, but no one could change the Force. It moved along its own current, ebbing and flowing with the times. It could be prodded here and there, manipulated by lesser beings. But it could not shift so radically in such a short time.

Whether he liked it or not, Anakin was in the future. His grandson’s future.

His grandson.

Anakin bent his head toward Ben, suddenly curious. “How old are you?”

Ben laughed without looking up. “Twenty-five standard years.”

Anakin groaned. Make that his grandson who was older than him. “This is too bizarre,” he muttered.

“Tell me about it.”

There was another long stretch of silence as the ship dropped through Tatooine’s atmosphere. Despite being in a controlled environment, Anakin could almost feel the air heat up around him. Ben landed the ship on a rocky patch of ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. As he watched the dust settle, Anakin turned to Ben once more.

“When exactly did you realize I wasn’t crazy?”

Ben leaned to one side and lifted his bag onto his shoulder. He flipped a switch, and the ship vibrated as the hatch opened. “When we were in the service passage and you said ‘Artoo, it’s me,’ as if he should recognize you.” Ben shrugged. “Only a few people ever knew that you once owned Artoo-Detoo, and most of them are dead. I put two and two together.” Ben finished powering down the cockpit and nudged past Anakin, heading for the open ramp.

“Wait a minute, so I poured out my life’s story for nothing?”

“Not at all.” Ben smiled back at him as he ducked under the bulkhead. “I needed a good story to cheer me up.”

Anakin couldn’t help grinning a little as he moved to the top of the ramp. “You’re a funny man. I see you inherited my sense of humor.”

“I don’t think you can claim credit for that, but if you’d like to try, you can get in line behind my mom. She’s got dibs.”

“Your mom…” Anakin’s voice lost all trace of amusement. “Is she…?”

Ben must have realized what he was asking because he quickly shook his head. “No, she’s not yours.”

“Oh.” And with that last word he felt the full impact of Tatooine’s blazing suns as a familiar heat engulfed him. White, blinding light reflected off the sands. Even the smell of the desert was oppressive. There was nothing but sand and rock as far as the eye could see.

“Welcome home,” Ben said wryly.

Anakin didn’t respond. This wasn’t his home. The only thing that had ever made it his home was gone, taken by the Raiders. His heart could only rest when Padmé was near, and Anakin was reminded – for the thousandth time since arriving in this galaxy – that Padmé was gone.

He could never go home again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

“Stop,” Ben ordered, coming to a halt at the crest of a sand dune. Anakin reached out with his senses, feeling for anything unusual around them. His search was in vain; the desert was eerily calm. He hadn’t seen any familiar landmarks. He supposed it was possible that Ben was leading him away from the towns and the native life rather than toward them.

“What is it?” Anakin asked, raising a hand to shade his eyes. He followed Ben’s gaze, but there was nothing there.

Ben pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars and fiddled with the settings. “We’re coming up on the enclave. Need to make sure it’s safe.”

“I don’t sense anyone nearby.”

Ben shook his head, still looking down at the binocs. “That’s the point.” He held the device up to his eyes, adjusting the dial. His presence was as closed off as it had been since they’d met. It was unnerving.

Anakin extended outward with the Force. Now he felt a faint hint of something, but it was muddled, distorted. Like listening to sounds underwater. “This is a Jedi enclave?”

“Yup.”

“And do you usually bring strangers home with you to your secret Jedi base?”

“No. Not usually.”

Anakin sighed, wiping sweat from his eyes. “Right. So naturally it will be easy to explain who I am.”

Ben glanced over his shoulder at him, frowning. “No one is going to believe that you’re really Anakin Skywalker.” He returned his attention forward.

“That’s understandable,” Anakin replied more than a little sarcastically.

Ben finished adjusting the macrobinoculars and scanned the horizon. “The Order has been spread out and in hiding for so long that many Jedi don’t recognize each other without introductions. We won’t have to hide that you’re a Jedi. You can use your first name, too, and if anyone asks, you were named for Anakin Solo.”

“Solo?”

“Yes.” Ben’s presence was still unreadable, but his face betrayed a certain sadness as he lowered the binocs. “He was a hero, a famous Jedi Knight. He died when I was just an infant.”

“I see.”

Ben smirked. “You want to know if he was named after you, right?”

Anakin shrugged. The thought had crossed his mind. “Am I that transparent?”

Ben raised one eyebrow and shook his head, chuckling. “I can see I didn’t inherit any modesty from your side. But yes, he was named after you. I guess you must have been pretty well known in your time.”

“Well… yes, I am. I mean, I was.” Anakin hesitated. There was something strange about the way Ben had phrased that last comment. “But you would know about all that, wouldn’t you? From your parents?”

Ben didn’t look at him. Instead he waved a hand in the air, slowly weaving it back and forth. Something glinted along the horizon, something that almost looked like a lightsaber blade.

“There are a lot of things I don’t know about the past,” Ben finally answered. “The galaxy hasn’t been a normal place for quite some time.” Without another word, he began to plod down the sand dune, walking in the direction of the glint of light.

“Yeah,” Anakin murmured. “I get that.”

It took about ten minutes to reach the glint they had seen on the horizon. When Anakin came over the last dune, he saw a tan, dark-haired girl standing next to a landspeeder. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, but there was a solemnity about her that made her seem at least as old as Ben. It wasn’t until she cracked a smile that Anakin saw a hint of real youth.

“We weren’t expecting to see you so soon,” the girl said. She glanced over Ben’s shoulder at Anakin, but didn’t say anything else.

Ben dropped his bag in the back of the speeder and turned to hug the girl. “Me either. Don’t tell me you’re disappointed?”

“So disappointed.” The girl pulled away, her eyes darting over to Anakin once more. Ben must have noticed.

“Kala Di, this is Anakin. We picked him up while we were on our mission.”

Anakin nodded politely. “Hello.”

“Nice to meet you. The girl glanced at Ben before continuing. “You’re a Jedi?”

“I am.”

“Oh, well that’s good.” She seemed relieved. “We need everyone we can get.”

Ben sat on the edge of the speeder and lifted himself into the passenger side. “Shall we?”

Anakin got into the back while the girl, Kala Di, took the driver’s seat. As they took off, Kala Di turned to Ben. “My mother will be relieved to see you,” she said, rolling her eyes affectionately.

Ben laughed. “Why is that?”

“She always worries about you. Especially these last six months. You know how she is.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ben reclined in his seat and folded his arms behind his head. “Anything else you want to tell me before we arrive?”

Kala Di smirked. “Well, Tahiri’s back. She got in last night.”

Ben groaned, shielding his eyes. “Great. Thanks for the warning.” He looked over his shoulder at Anakin. “You’re going to like Tahiri.”

Anakin inhaled deeply and nodded. As Ben and Kala Di continued to talk, Anakin watched the desert sweep by, his thoughts turning absently to the objects that lay hidden beneath the dunes. In his youth he had met many treasure hunters who hoped to uncover Tatooine’s ancient riches, but few had been successful. The desert rarely gave up its treasures.

He remembered the last day he’d been here, the day he had buried his mother. She was out there somewhere, her gravestone probably claimed by the desert long ago.

The desert heat continued to wash over him, weighing down his eyelids. After a few minutes he gave in and closed his eyes, the sound of the engine lulling him to sleep.

Arden sipped her cup of caf and watched the reactions of the others as they listened to Myri’s report. Mostly there was stunned silence. At some point, Kohr and Ames had returned with the girl, and they were standing off to the side, lost in thought. Elias kept running his hands over his eyes.

“What do you propose we do?” Ulin said at last, breaking the silence.

Myri took off her cap and laid it on the table next to her plate. “Valin is on his way to Tatooine now, and he and Ben will get the rest of the Council up to speed. We wait here for them to send word. Meanwhile, Ulin, you need to crack that datapad.”

“Already on it,” Ulin said.

“So we just wait?” Allana asked. “We just wait here while the Sith manipulate those kids?”

“Allana…” Ames started.

“No! How can we even be thinking like this?” She looked at each of them before finally settling her gaze on Arden. “You,” she said.

Arden froze, her cup halfway to her lips. “Me?”

Allana moved closer to her. “Isn’t this just what the rest of the galaxy expects of us? Tell me honestly, what do you think of the Jedi? You don’t trust us.”

“That’s enough, Allana,” Elias said quietly.

“It’s not enough, Elias, don’t you see? The galaxy thinks we’re running scared, and we are! We’re going to sit here in safety while the Sith twist innocent children to the dark side.”

“We’re going to think this through so that we don’t make any mistakes and get anyone killed,” Elias said sharply. Allana stared down at him, her chin trembling.

“Ben would agree with me,” she whispered. “He would try to rescue them.”

“He already tried.”

There was silence, and then Ames, Allana, and Kohr began speaking all at once.

“What?”

“What happened?”

“Is that what we were doing on Ossus?”

The three teenagers continued to ask questions, one after another. In the midst of the confusion, Arden raised her hand in the air.

“Question?”

Everyone in the room stopped talking and turned to look at her.

“Well that’s not at all intimidating,” she muttered.

Myri chuckled. “Go ahead, Arden.”

Arden swallowed. “Can someone tell me what is going on here? For real? Because I’m pretty confused.”

Elias and Myri exchanged a look. “The Daybreak was supposed to be off the grid, but I’ve been keeping tabs on you all,” Myri explained. “I contacted Ben about the situation with the children as soon as I learned about it. I warned him that going to Ossus wasn’t the best idea, but that kid has a mind of his own.”

Arden stared at Elias. “You knew about all this?”

“No. Ben told us we were looking for information that was important to the Jedi, but he wouldn’t say what it was. I’m guessing he looked for the children, and when he couldn’t find them he went after the data on their whereabouts.”

Kohr and Ames looked stunned. “We didn’t know,” Kohr said. “He told us to keep watch, make sure no one realized we were there.”

Ames nodded. “And then that stranger showed up and blew our cover.”

Kohr shook his head. “Our cover was already blown, genius.”

“Wait a second,” Myri interrupted. “What stranger?”

“A stowaway we picked up on Ossus,” Elias said, resting his chin in his palm. “When the Sith caught up to us on Heibic, we left him with Ben.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what Ben wanted. Apparently the guy knows how to use a lightsaber.”

Arden looked up to see Allana giving Elias a death glare.

“Did it not occur to you,” Allana said slowly, “that this stowaway was a Sith?”

Arden laughed, more out of nervousness than anything else. “That would be pretty ironic,” she said.

“I don’t see the irony.”

Elias put a hand on Allana’s shoulder. “The man was crazy. He kept claiming he was Anakin Skywalker.”

“Who ended up becoming a Sith,” Arden finished.

Allana looked as though she’d just eaten something sour. Kohr held up his bag of datatapes. “I’ve got the recording, if you want to take a look.”

Myri rubbed her hands together. “Well, I’ve got to see this.”

“Yeah,” Allana said. “Me too.” She snatched the bag out of Kohr’s hand.

“Hey!”

As the others stood up and followed Allana and Kohr out of the room, Elias leaned close to Arden. “Can we talk?”

Arden stared down into her mug. “Don’t you need to tend to your Jedi business?” she said quietly.

Elias closed his hands around hers. “It can wait.”

Arden shook her head and pulled her hands away. She didn’t want to shut him out; she wanted to forgive him. He was a Jedi, yes, but he was still Elias.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Go. Sounds like you guys have more important problems.”

“Arden…”

She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t take that hurt expression on his face. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “I’ll still be here when you’re done. I just need some time to think.”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. I’ll be right in the next room.”

Arden nodded up at him, eyes averted. She heard the swish of the door opening and closing behind him. Satisfied that she was alone, Arden allowed a few tears to slip down her cheeks.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Huh?” Anakin squinted up into the light, his head buzzing. He massaged his temples, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness. It took a couple of seconds before he saw Ben’s face hovering over him. His grandson was staring at him intently.

“Heavy sleeper?” Kala Di asked from the driver’s seat.

“No,” Anakin mumbled, holding his hand to his forehead. “Not usually.”

Ben studied him for a moment. “You must have really been exhausted. You were out cold. We’re coming up on the enclave now.”

Anakin sat up in his seat and looked over Ben’s head. Ahead of them was a cluster of crude tents, no more than twelve in all. Kala Di brought the speeder to a halt at the periphery of the enclave. While Anakin surveyed the scene, Ben and Kala Di jumped out of the speeder, grabbing their gear.

“You two are welcome to come have dinner with us,” Kala Di said as she anchored the speeder to the nearest tent.

Ben gave her a half-smile. “Thanks for the offer, Kala Di, but I think Anakin and I are going to eat on our own.”

“Okay, but you’re going to miss out.” She turned away, opening the tent’s front flap.

“Maybe another night,” Ben answered. His voice remained nonchalant, but as he met Anakin’s eyes, his expression darkened. “We’ve got some things to discuss.”

Kala Di waved and disappeared into the tent.

“Come on,” Ben said. “I’ll show you around.”

As Anakin followed Ben into the encampment, the first thing he noticed was that there were children everywhere, and very few adults. The children stared at him openly; the adults acted as though he wasn’t even there. The youngest children were playing in the sand or running between the tents. Most of the older children were sparring, some with metal rods, others with their bare hands. Ben stopped in front of one of the smaller tents and watched as two little girls levitated a set of wooden blocks in the air.

“This is just one of our enclaves,” Ben said, eyes still on the children. “We have to keep our numbers as small as possible to avoid detection.”

Anakin turned away from the girls and ran his fingers across the textured cloth of the tent. “More like a camp. This isn’t permanent, is it?”

Ben shrugged and started walking again. “Nothing’s permanent. We make do. The less civilized we seem, the less anyone pays attention to us.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” The tents reminded him of another camp on the sands of Tatooine. “Don’t you ever worry about the Tusken Raiders?”

The dry laugh that scratched its way from Ben’s throat seemed to spring from some ancient source. It sent a barely perceptible shudder through Anakin’s body.

“They don’t bother us,” was all Ben said.

Anakin closed his eyes and smelled the wind that swept between the tents. “I used to live just east of here.”

Ben nodded and wiped sweat from his cheek, looking around the camp. “Mos Espa. The Sith razed it to the ground after two Jedi were found under the protection of some locals.” He smiled at a little blonde girl as she scurried by. “So we stay out here.”

“Even after what happened?” It was hard to imagine that Mos Espa was just… gone.

Ben gave another one of those vague, noncommittal shrugs that Anakin was becoming accustomed to. “They had no reason to suspect we’d stay here after being the cause of so much destruction. But the Jedi have evolved. We’re no longer quite what the Sith expect.” He smiled at Anakin – not the warm, inviting grin of a joke shared between comrades, but the sly, arctic smile of a patient predator circling its prey. It startled Anakin to see that look on a Jedi’s face. For a moment, the memory of Palpatine’s face as he revealed his true identity returned with full force.

“You will be able to save your wife from certain death.”

How could he not have seen it? How could he have gone all those years without knowing the truth? Was all of this his fault? His family had survived, obviously, but the rest of the galaxy had fallen to the Sith. He should have been able to stop it. Why hadn’t he?

The little blonde girl came running by again; Anakin stared at the tracks she left in the sand.

“Hey,” Ben said. His expression had changed; now it was more tired than anything else. “You okay in there?” Before Anakin could answer, Ben jerked his head toward a group of people who were busy sparring. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Anakin pushed the doubts and fears down, pushed them deep inside where no one would sense them, and put a smile on his face. “Lead the way.”

Darth Dominius surveyed the welcoming party as he stepped onto the landing pad. At the head of the group of soldiers stood a tall, lean Zabrak female, the tips of her horns barely visible underneath long black hair. Dominius could sense that she was puzzled by his return, but she hid it well.

“Welcome back, Lord Dominius,” the Zabrak said softly, bowing her head. “We thought you were returning to Coruscant.”

Dominius regarded her coolly. “Tressk and Jadyk were injured during our pursuit. They require medical attention.”

“Of course.” The Zabrak turned to the soldiers. “You heard Lord Dominius.”

“Yes, my lady,” they replied in unison.

Dominius watched them leave. “There has been a change of plans, Lady Varice. I will be leading the hunt for the Jedi.”

“I was not informed—”

“I am informing you now. You will meet me in the council room at twelve hundred hours. Bring Lady Misra with you.”

Varice bowed again. “As you wish, my lord.”

As Dominius brushed past her, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Tell your brother I look forward to his speedy recovery, Lady Varice. I’m sure he’ll want to personally thank his assailant for that new bionic arm.”

She appeared surprised at his sudden candor. “That is all he has been able to talk about since you left, my lord.” She bowed again, lower this time. “I shall return with Lady Misra within the hour.”

“Very good.” He was most anxious to renew the Jedi Hunt. Most anxious indeed.

Arden sat in front of the safe house’s holoproj, watching as it ran a series of HoloNet news updates. Apparently there was an illegal public assembly being crushed on Obroa-skai, an economic crisis on Mygeeto, and a reported Jedi raid in the capital city of a planet whose name she couldn’t begin to pronounce. The reporter ticked off each incident as though he were talking about the weather. He was like her; he had become used to the grim reality of the Sith Empire. Such crises had become a fact of life over the last several years. Arden was no longer surprised by the reports.

The door to the next room opened, and Kohr came out, giving Arden a tight smile. He joined the others who had already emerged from the room. Ames and Allana were sitting together on a couch, talking in hushed tones. Ulin sat at a computer terminal, deaf to the world as he tried to crack the datapad’s encryption. That left only Elias and Myri in the other room. Arden wondered what they were talking about. Jedi stuff, probably. Things she would never be able to understand.

The door slid open again, and this time Myri came out. She looked at Arden and jerked her thumb toward the doorway. “Go on in,” she said, smiling warmly.

Arden nodded and stood up, turning off the holoproj as she did so. She crossed the room and stopped in front of Myri. The older woman tilted her head slightly to the side.

“Go easy on him, okay?” She smiled again and walked away, leaving Arden alone in the doorway, Elias was sitting at a round table inside the room, looking completely shamed. Arden closed the door behind her and sat down next to Elias. No sooner had she made contact with the chair when he blurted out his apology.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Arden, I was stupid, I—”

Arden put her fingers to Elias’s lips, silencing him. “Let me start, all right?” she said quietly.

Elias nodded.

“Good. Now, what did Myri say to you?”

He looked surprised, but he met her gaze directly. “That I’m an idiot. That I shouldn’t have lied to you for so long. That I’m damn lucky to have found such a nice girl.”

“She did not say that.”

“She did!” Elias insisted. “I’m serious, she told me I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you the truth, especially since it’s so obvious I’m in love with you.”

Arden blinked several times. “What?”

It seemed to take Elias a few seconds to realize what he’d just said. “I’m in love with you,” he said again, softer this time.

Arden thought she had cried herself dry earlier, but her eyes grew moist. “What do you want me to say, Elias? I don’t even know you.”

“I’m still me,” he said, placing a hand over his chest. “Being a Jedi doesn’t change who I am.”

“Being a Jedi is who you are. You’re Elias Cain. You’re Ben Skywalker’s sidekick.” She stood up and walked to the other side of the room, where she began pacing. “Do you know how many times in the last seven years I’ve heard your name connected to a bombing or a raid or assassination attempt?”

“I know, but I promise you, that wasn’t me.”

“You’re saying you were never involved in any of those things?”

Elias took a deep breath. “We’re not evil, Arden,” he began. “We don’t try to kill innocent civilians.” He paused for a long moment and dropped his gaze to his lap. Arden’s throat tightened.

Elias finally looked back up at her. “But I won’t say it never happened.”

The tears she’d been holding in check started to flow. Elias stood and made a move to go to her, but he seemed to think better of it.

“Those stories are lies,” he insisted. “The Sith fabricated most of those attacks and blamed them on us. But there have been accidents, a couple when I was younger…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “We didn’t plan things through; we underestimated the Sith, and people died. I didn’t mean for it to happen. We were trying to save our friends. But that doesn’t make me any less guilty.”

Arden leaned against the wall and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I don’t know anything about the Force, Elias. I’ve never been able to understand why your feud with the Sith had to involve the whole galaxy. But I know you’re not a bad person.” She saw Elias relax a little at those words.

“I’m so sorry, Arden.”

“I know you are,” she said. “But I don’t know if that’s enough. You knew I didn’t trust the Jedi. Right from the beginning you knew. And you let me believe you were just like me, just another person trying to stay out of the Empire’s way.” She sniffed back more tears. “I let you in. I trusted you. Why couldn’t you trust me, too?”

Elias took a few steps toward her and stopped just outside of arm’s reach. “I don’t have a good reason. I guess I just got used to living the lie. I couldn’t tell you at first, obviously. But by the time I could trust you, I was too afraid of losing you.”

Arden shook her head. “You know, that’s really childish. It’s not up to you to keep me around. That’s my decision.”

Elias seemed more bothered by this than she would have thought. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice breaking a little. “You know, the Jedi have an old saying about fear, about it leading to the dark side. I was afraid, and it clouded my judgment. I’m sorry.”

Arden considered him for a moment. For most of her life, she had lived in fear of anything related to the Force. She had vivid memories of the civil war and how it had served as a launching point for the more personal war amongst the Jedi. She still remembered Jacen Solo’s chilling speech the day he took control of the Galactic Alliance. But she had never heard of a Jedi apologizing for his actions, and certainly not doing it more than once. She knew Elias was sincere, knew it somewhere deep inside her. Could he really be the only one?

“You know this isn’t going to fix everything between us,” she said after a moment.

“I know, and I completely understand if you never—”

“But,” she interrupted, “I’m willing to stick around and find out what the hell is going on with you people.” She raised one eyebrow, waiting for his reaction.

Elias gave her a grateful smile and reached out to take her hand in his. She allowed it.

“Does ‘you people’ include me?” he asked, trying not to smile too wide.

Arden let out a heavy breath and shook her head. “I must be out of my mind, but yes.” She cupped his chin in her palm and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the lips.

Elias laughed and pulled her into the tightest hug of her life. “It’s a good thing you’re such a forgiving woman.”

“You don’t know how lucky, buddy.” Arden squeezed in return. “Now, I’m guessing you’ll need help if you want to rescue these kids, right?”

He leaned back to get a better look at her. “You… you want to help?”

“Of course,” Arden said. “I may have a natural distrust of the Jedi, but I know the Sith are bad news. No child deserves to be raised by them.”

Elias pulled her close once more and kissed the top of her head. “You don’t have to worry either, because I’ll protect you. No matter what.”

Arden grinned and closed her eyes. “Believe me, after seeing those little lightsaber tricks of yours, I don’t doubt it.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Anakin had spent the better part of an hour following Ben throughout the camp, being introduced to the children and a few of the adults. Despite the fact that many of the children were orphans, they seemed relatively well-adjusted. Some of the youngest ones followed after him, laughing as they tugged playfully on his robes. Anakin didn’t mind their attention, occasionally making faces at them; he could tell from Ben’s reactions that he had not expected him to be good with kids. Again, Anakin wondered what had happened in this time to make Ben so cautious around his own flesh and blood.

Ben led him toward a group of teenagers who were sitting on the sand, eyes closed. “These are the older apprentices,” his grandson said with a gesture.

Anakin surveyed the scene. “Padawans?”

“Sort of. There aren’t enough masters for all of the children, so we do the best we can.” Ben nodded at a middle-aged blonde woman standing with a dark-haired girl. “Karanya over there is Kala Di’s mother. She has another daughter and a son, too. Right now she trains both her daughters.”

Anakin let out a low whistle. “Yoda would never approve.”

“Yoda’s not here.”

The woman, Karanya, caught sight of them and began walking toward them.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she said, smiling brightly.

Ben smiled in return. “Karanya, I’d like you to meet Anakin. We picked him up on our journey. Anakin, this is Karanya Nal.”

Anakin extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Please, no formalities. Call me Karanya.” The woman must have been very young when she had Kala Di. She looked to be around Obi-Wan’s age. “I see you prefer the traditional robes?”

Anakin looked down at his tunic, then over at Ben. “Um… is that bad?”

Karanya shrugged. “I don’t know where you’re from, but most of the Jedi we know like to be as discreet as possible.” She eyed the robes again and grinned. “Although I must say, that style would have stood out even before we went into hiding.”

Anakin gave her a half smile in return. Yes, the outfit certainly had stood out. Some Masters had thought his color choice to be evidence of a more disturbing trend. Maybe he just liked colors that didn’t immediately remind him of sand.

Karanya turned to Ben. “Kala Di tells me you turned down our dinner invite?”

Ben ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’ve already got plans. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You know you’re always welcome though.”

“I know.” Ben kicked the sand. “Hey, is Tahiri around?”

“No, she went off into the desert last night, almost as soon as she got here. I think she wanted time to meditate alone.” Karanya looked past Ben. “Hey, Valin!”

Anakin turned to see a brown-haired man walking toward him. The man raised a hand in greeting. As he came closer, a small child emerged from behind him. She clung to the man’s pant leg, silent.

Karanya leaned down and smiled at the girl. “Hi, sweetie.” When the girl shrank behind her father, Karanya smiled and looked up at Valin. “When did Tahiri say she’d be back?”

“She’s on her way now, but she’s about two hours out.” The man glanced at Ben. “Myri says hi, and she wanted me to tell you that Ulin is still working on the datapad.” He grinned. “According to her, ‘there’s a crazy huge level of security on this piece of junk.’”

Ben groaned. “Any idea how long it will take?”

“Ulin says a day, maybe two.”

“Perfect,” Ben said, shaking his head. “Just perfect.” He paused for a moment before gesturing toward Anakin. “Sorry. Valin, this is Anakin. We picked him up on the way here. Anakin, meet Valin Horn.”

Valin shook Anakin’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” For a moment, Anakin thought he saw a strange look in the other man’s eyes.

Karanya spread her arms wide. “Well, I guess we’ve got some time before this datapad gets cracked. I’d better get back to Dira.” She smiled warmly at Anakin. “It was very nice to meet you.”

The three men watched her walk away. Ben turned to Anakin and gave him a wry grin. “Overwhelmed yet?”

Anakin mentally counted off all the people he had met that day. “Almost,” he admitted. “But I think I can manage one more.” He kneeled in the sand and leaned his head to one side, seeking out the child hiding behind Valin. “May I?” he asked.

Valin nodded. “Be my guest.”

Anakin held a hand out to the girl. “Hi. I’m Anakin. What’s your name?”

The little girl looked up at Anakin with big, dark eyes and smiled timidly. “My name’s Carin, and I’m this many.” She held up six fingers and giggled.

Anakin let his jaw drop. “You’re six! Boy, when I was six I wasn’t nearly as grown up as you!”

The girl’s face lit up as she took a couple steps forward and gripped Anakin’s hand. “Would you like to come over to our tent? I’m helping Daddy with dinner!”

Valin put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and drew her to his side. “That’s enough, Carin. I’m sure Anakin already has plans. Why don’t you go find your brother?”

The girl lowered her head. “Yes, Daddy.” Without another word, she took off across the camp, kicking up sand behind her. Anakin watched her disappear into the waning light.

“She’s usually very shy,” Valin explained quietly, not quite meeting Anakin’s eyes. “Like her mother.” The melancholy on his face was unmistakable. He sighed and gave Anakin a half-smile. “Do you have someone waiting for you back home?”

The emptiness again. The feeling of unfamiliarity, of being alone in a galaxy where nothing was the same, not even the fabric of the Force.

“I did.”

Valin nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Anakin tried to smile, but found that he couldn’t. His thoughts turned once again to all of the strange changes that had taken place in this time. Ben had said he would tell him everything eventually. He hoped it was sooner rather than later.

Ben stepped closer to Valin. “Did you bring the boys with you?”

“Yes, Tahiri asked me to. They’re back in my tent, sleeping.”

Ben raised one eyebrow. “Tired from the trip?”

Valin chuckled. “They couldn’t sit still for two seconds the whole trip, and as soon as we got here they crashed.”

“Why am I not surprised? Okay, well, Anakin and I are going into the desert for a while; if you hear anything from Myri about the datapad, let me know right away.”

Valin clapped Ben on the shoulder. “You got it. Be careful out there.”

Anakin watched his grandson adopt a pose that looked eerily familiar. His head tilted slightly, Ben gave Valin a wry grin and said, “I always am.”

As Valin headed off in the same direction as his daughter, Anakin glanced sidelong at Ben. “Taking me somewhere special?”

Ben crossed his arms over his chest. “I am indeed. You know how to ride a swoop?”

Anakin shook his head. “You really don’t know anything about me.”

“Right, I forgot. You raced those pod things.” Ben raised an eyebrow at him. “All right, follow me.”

“I can pilot a lot of things,” Anakin mumbled. He followed Ben as the other man began to walk. “And it’s called a podracer.”

Ben waved his hand in the air without looking back. “Whatever you say, Gramps.”

The desert was very still tonight.

Oh, no doubt there was a sandstorm brewing on the eastern edge of the Dune Sea, or a herd of dewbacks disrupting the otherwise peaceful evenings of farmers near Mos Eisley. But here, in the Jundland Wastes, all was quiet. Even cruising near top speed on her swoop bike, Tahiri Veila could sense the absolute calm of her surroundings.

She hadn’t expected it. In a way, it worried her. In her mind, stillness made the Jedi presence even more obvious. Maybe that was why she preferred daylight on Tatooine. When everyone else was awake, she imagined that their lifeforces were like a shield around the tiny Jedi enclave. It was a silly notion, but one that gave her some level of comfort. She knew she shouldn’t worry; the protection she and the other Masters had put on the camp was strong enough.

For now.

The stillness probably wouldn’t have bothered her so much if it hadn’t come on the heels of several small disturbances in the Force. Alone, they might not have caused much concern. But they had come one after another, first the ripples from the Inner Rim – the attack on Denon, most likely – then that strange, fleeting distortion of the Force somewhere inside Sith space. Now a strong yet unfamiliar presence had come with Ben to Tatooine, and she had to wonder if all these events were connected. Could it be that this stranger Ben had picked up was the reason for the calmness of the desert? Or was she simply reading too much into a peaceful evening?

She’d only been away from Tatooine for a few weeks, checking on the other enclaves, but it seemed much longer than that. There was never any guarantee that she would make it home; each time she left, she wondered if it would be the last time. She was thankful to be here. She was thankful for the sand and the dry desert air and the tents full of younglings that had survived until she could return to them.

She was especially thankful that nothing had happened to the two boys in Valin’s care. Yes, they were safe aboard the Errant Venture, but she’d had the niggling feeling that they needed to be here, on Tatooine. Perhaps it had something to do with the string of disturbances she’d sensed.

Or maybe she just missed them too damn much.

The suns were already descending fast toward the horizon. She would barely make it to the enclave before nightfall. Tahiri leaned slightly forward in her seat and listened once more to the stillness.

She kept getting the feeling that something big, something important, was about to happen. The question now was whether it would be revealed in a sudden, Force-driven explosion of clarity, or if, like every other sentient in the galaxy, she would have to wait for the answers.

Lord Dominius sat across the conference table from his lieutenants, Darths Varice and Misra. Alone in the room, just the three of them, he was reminded of his old history lessons and the tales of the ancient Sith Triumvirate. It had been a flawed system, made up of three incredibly powerful Dark Lords. If Dominius were to resurrect the Triumvirate – hypothetically, of course – he would probably choose these two women as his co-rulers. They were more loyal to him than Sith usually were, and they were not without their gifts. Darth Varice was the polar opposite of her younger brother, Raze; she was calm and calculating, as cunning as she was beautiful. And then there was the fair-haired human, Misra, who possessed a brutal command of the Force and the physical strength to back it up. Yes, they would make for an interesting Sith Triumvirate, if nothing else.

Dominius leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingertips together. Varice and Misra were suitably surprised by his announcement. They exchanged glances before looking over at him.

“You’re certain it was Skywalker? He is quite adept at disguising himself. Might it not have been a decoy?”

Dominius was not offended by Lady Varice’s doubts. It was merely her way, asking so many questions. She liked to be thorough.

“I am certain of it,” he replied. “He may be able to hide from the Force, but he cannot hide from me. I would recognize that face anywhere.”

“And it’s true that you will be renewing the Jedi Hunt?” Misra scratched at the polished surface of the table, but her eyes were locked on Dominius.

“The decision was made shortly after Denon; Skywalker’s reappearance simply pushed our plans up a bit.” Dominius gave Misra a sly smile, baring his sharp white teeth. “So to answer your question, yes.”

Misra glanced over at Varice and shifted ever so slightly in her seat. “You know how angry the twins will be when they learn that you are leading the Hunt.”

Dominius was a patient man, but the thought of those two young upstarts made his usually cool reptilian blood boil just a little. For now, he held his feelings in check. “Ferrus and Festus are the least of my concerns, Lady Misra. You will inform them that they are to remain on Vjun for the time being. No doubt we will be meeting them there soon enough.”

“You don’t think Skywalker will be foolish enough to actually go there, do you?” Varice was young and hadn’t had as much experience with the foolhardiness of the Skywalker line.

“I know that he will be, Lady Varice. And he will be expecting to fight us, too. But for now, let us see if we can’t track down any more of their secret enclaves, shall we?”

Varice pulled out a datapad. “The trail went cold after Heibic. We have no new leads.”

“What about the information from Denon?”

“The only salvageable communications equipment was a subspace transceiver. It’s likely that the Jedi have already changed their frequency, but I think it would be worth our while to continue monitoring subspace using this device.”

“The original report mentioned an illegal HoloNet transceiver.”

Varice sighed. “That would have been quite a find for us; however, the Jedi destroyed it during the attack.”

Dominius stroked the end of his chin with his long fingernails. “Very well. What have you discovered from the subspace logs?”

“A team of Lessers has been following the leads from the logs, but so far they’ve all been dead ends. We think the Jedi might be using couriers to relay their messages. It would explain why we’re having trouble tracking them.”

“Or,” Misra interrupted, “they might not be in contact at all. Perhaps they’ve truly isolated themselves from each other, and the transmissions from the Denon enclave have nothing to do with Jedi business.”

“No,” Dominius said, standing up from his chair. “They were in contact. Skywalker knew what happened there.” He paced across the room and pressed a button at the end of the table. A hologram of the galaxy appeared above their heads. “This is what we know,” he said, zooming in on the portion of the Inner Rim where Denon was located. “The Jedi hid on a heavily populated planet at the intersection of two major trade routes. We have always assumed this was their strategy: hide amidst a crowd, and no one will notice you.”

Varice and Misra were silent, watching him pace.

Dominius zoomed out and shifted the map, focusing in on a single planet. “It was the same on Arkania several years ago. With hundreds of billions of lives, we nearly overlooked Katarn’s secret base.” He let his hand fall to his side and stared at the glowing blue map.

“My lord?” Misra said after a moment. “Are you saying that’s not the reason?”

“We’ve monitored communications, restricted the HoloNet, spread our web of spies across the Empire and into Alliance space. None of it has worked. Before Organa Solo died, the Jedi were at least more willing to come out and fight us, but now… now they keep to the shadows.” He shook his head. “They’ve learned a thing or two from us, I’m afraid. It’s time we stopped thinking like conquerors and started thinking like the old Sith.”

“Hide under your enemy’s nose,” Lady Varice murmured.

Dominius turned to her, eyes wide. “Yes, yes… for a millennium, the Sith hid in the most obvious places. Sidious lived on Coruscant; he kept himself in plain sight! We have the right pieces, but we’ve been putting them together the wrong way.” Dominius shifted the hologram back to Denon. “Here. Denon is good for drowning out Force signatures, but it’s also near the border of the Empire. We would never have expected our enemies to be hiding there. They were practically standing right in the center of a potential invasion corridor! Arkania was also directly in our path.”

He could feel his skin warming; his pigmentation was already changing from cool green to a light shade of orange. But he couldn’t help himself; to think that they were making some kind of progress after years of fruitless searches. And he had to admit, it felt good to be focusing on the Jedi once more. He had missed the Hunt.

“Lady Varice. Lady Misra.” He forced himself to settle down and looked from one woman to the other. “The arrival of the Jedi on Vjun is imminent. I expect some of us will be sent there to welcome them. In the meantime, however, I want both of you to go through all the data from Denon, keeping in mind what we discussed. Even if we manage to capture Skywalker and Cain, we will still need to find the other enclaves.”

“We understand,” Misra said, bowing her head.

“Unless I say otherwise, you are to commit yourselves entirely to this task.”

“Yes, my lord.”

As the two women turned to leave, Dominius waved Varice over. “Tell Raze to be ready; when I leave for Vjun, I want him at my side.”

The Zabrak nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”

Ben left the Jedi enclave at a modest three hundred kilometers per hour, not quite top speed for the old Zephyr-G swoop he was riding. He felt Anakin behind him, but as the camp grew more distant and the desert swallowed him whole, Ben drowned everything else out. There was only the sound of the wind, the sting of sand, the fading heat from the suns. Despite the incredible vastness of the world around him, Ben didn’t feel overwhelmed. For the first time in weeks – probably months – he felt some measure of peace.

For a long time he wasn’t sure that he got the same thrill from flying as most of the rest of his family, and after a while he realized that he didn’t. He was a Skywalker who didn’t get excited at the idea of taking off for places unknown or dodging laser blasts in a dogfight. He did, however, enjoy the solitude, the feeling of disconnect he got whenever he flew. For a little while, he could forget about everything that had gone wrong in the galaxy. He could forget about what it was he had to do once he stopped this swoop.

He really wasn’t looking forward to that. Not one bit.

Ben had started to untie two of the parked swoop bikes when he noticed Anakin standing off to the side, looking as though he wanted to say something.

“Problem?”

Anakin glanced over his shoulder. There was no one in sight. “Not exactly,” he said, taking a step toward the swoops. For the briefest moment, Ben thought he saw tears in Anakin’s eyes. “Is your father my son?” he finally asked.

Ben had always assumed Anakin Skywalker was unaware of his wife’s pregnancy at the time of his fall. From their discussion aboard the Daybreak, it was clear now that he had known; but did he sense that she was carrying twins? Hadn’t Dad mentioned once that Vader was surprised to learn of Aunt Leia’s true identity?

What if Anakin went back tonight? Ben didn’t know how this time travel stuff worked, and he had no way of knowing if and when Anakin would return to his own time. If he was still going to become Darth Vader, it would be a fatal mistake to tell him about Aunt Leia. The less he knew about the future, the better.

Unless Ben decided to tell his grandfather everything. Every terrible secret.

“Ben?”

“Sorry.” Ben looked over at him and blinked. “Is my father your son?” He tried not to look too confused. “Who else would he be?”

“I mean, I’m not your great-grandfather or anything like that, right?”

“No, just a regular grandfather.” Not that he’d ever known what one of those was like. “And yes, he was your son.”

Everything around Anakin – the air, the Force itself – seemed to go still. “Was…” he murmured.

Ben nodded. “Yeah.” He led his swoop away from the others. “Come on. There’s something I need to show you.”

Ben gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the handlebars. So much for serenity.

It was supposed to be a fairly long trip across the Jundland Wastes, but for Ben it passed by all too quickly. The first of the twin suns was setting when he spotted their destination up ahead. He signaled to Anakin and began to slow down. The small, synstone hut nearly blended into the rocky surroundings, but Ben would have known it anywhere. He’d spent many long hours here over the last few years. Beyond the structure, he saw the top of the Daybreak. Artoo must have already gone inside the hut.

This was where it had all started. Well, Ben thought, from a certain point of view. In many ways, his father’s journey had begun here. In many other ways, Luke Skywalker’s path had been laid out long before he set foot in old Kenobi’s hut. Ben still wasn’t sure if the results of his father’s life were a matter of destiny, bad decisions, or just plain bad luck.

The home had long since been gutted of anything useful by scavengers, but it would provide shelter enough while Ben talked to his grandfather. Ben parked his swoop next to the crumbling hut and waited for Anakin to join him. The younger man had already dismounted and was standing at the edge of the precipice, his eyes closed as a gentle wind ruffled his hair.

“Everything in this galaxy feels so different now.” He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at Ben. “But Tatooine is still the same. The only place that feels right.”

Ben tried to smile. “Not everything stayed the same.”

Anakin cocked his head to one side as if listening to music only he could hear. “Jabba’s gone.”

This time Ben cracked a grin. He kept forgetting how long it had been since Anakin had stepped foot on this planet. “Strangled to death by my aunt during a rescue mission.”

Anakin nodded and looked back at the hut. “Who lived here?”

“My father’s first mentor,” Ben answered. “I was named for him, in a way.”

“In a way?”

“He changed his name to Ben when he came to Tatooine. ‘Obi-Wan Kenobi’ was too much of a giveaway, I guess.”

Anakin didn’t even try to hide his shock. “Obi-Wan lived here?”

Ben nodded. “A long time ago.”

Anakin reached out and ran his fingers along the rough exterior. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story.” A long and terrible story that he wasn’t sure he could tell properly, especially not to the man who was responsible for so much of it.

“I have time,” Anakin replied.

Ben looked out at the twin suns, the first one already dipping far below the horizon. “You may not be ready to hear it.”

“I need to know.” There was something in his voice that forced Ben to meet his gaze.

Fear.

The setting suns cast a mixture of gold and purple light across Anakin’s face. Ben stared at him for a long moment, the sadness he carried in his heart rising to the surface. He wished he could promise his grandfather that everything turned out fine in the end, but it just wasn’t true.

And by the look in the other man’s eyes, he could see Anakin already suspected part of the truth. Holding back the rest would be an insult.

“You’d better come inside.”

Anakin followed Ben into the hut as the first sun disappeared from the sky.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

Vjun was a dark world.

It wasn’t just the constant presence of ominous clouds or the never-ending drizzle of acid rain, although these did provide an atmosphere conducive to dark thoughts. No, it wasn’t just the sky that made Vjun a world of nightmares; it was in the soil, in the blood of the surviving population. The mad inhabitants of this planet had corrupted it, twisting it into something wholly different, something crazed and malicious and desperate.

Darth Festus loved it.

He was human, and young. Large blue eyes peered out from a pale, gaunt face. He had the appearance of an aristocrat or one of those tragic heroes the holofilms were once famous for, and he looked perfectly at home in the gloomy mansion that served as their headquarters.

His brother, on the other hand, was not quite so comfortable.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Darth Ferrus muttered, leaning forward in his chair. He was a distorted mirror image of his brother: same blue eyes, same dark hair, but taller, more muscular, and not quite so pale.

Festus levitated a datapad in the air before him. He spun it around slowly, watching the dim light reflect off its shiny surface. “I don’t mind it,” he said.

Ferrus scowled. “Well of course you don’t. You’d probably be content to spend the rest of your life in this hellhole.”

Festus tilted his head toward his brother and quirked one eyebrow.

Ferrus sighed. “It does suit you.”

“Thanks.” Festus let the datapad drop into his hand. “You know I’m not any happier than you about constantly being passed over.” He looked off into space as his voice grew quiet. “I would love to be out there hunting the Jedi. But you heard the Master.”

“I know, I know. Our work here is very important.”

“And he did say that we would see the Jedi soon enough. They may end up coming here after all.”

Ferrus stood from his chair and began to crack his knuckles. “I just hate having to wait for Dominius! He’s always trying to keep us out of the loop.”

“Usually I would agree with you, brother, but this time I suspect he is simply following orders. When the Master wants to reveal his plan, he will. Until then, we continue with the experiment.”

Ferrus shuddered. “Again, one more reason I’d rather be somewhere else. I’ll never understand your interest in Doctor Mezzon’s experiments.”

“There’s a lot you don’t understand.”

Ferrus frowned. “What are you watching?”

Festus angled the datapad toward his brother. “See for yourself.”

Ferrus grabbed the device and sidled up next to his twin. The screen was just big enough that he could make out two figures. Doctor Mezzon was one of them, and he was standing over a table where a young Mon Cal was strapped down, squirming violently. The doctor held a scalpel up for the Mon Cal – and the camera – to see.

“Gross,” Ferrus said, thrusting the datapad away from him. “And you, too.”

His brother’s smile was a wicked thing to behold. “You’re always trying to flatter me.”

Ferrus made a dismissive noise and returned to the chair opposite his twin. “I still don’t approve of this whole thing,” he mumbled. “Even if they are technically Jedi.”

Festus began to spin the datapad in the air once more. “How fortunate for the rest of us that we don’t have to wait for your approval.” He sent the datapad flying toward his brother’s head. Ferrus snatched it out of the air with his left hand and made an obscene gesture with his right.

The comm unit on the wall crackled. “My lords?”

Festus bowed his head in mock reverence and gestured toward the comm. “After you.”

Ferrus rolled his eyes. “What is it, Yaanis?”

“Priority message from Coruscant, Lord Ferrus.”

The brothers exchanged a knowing look.

“Patch it through.”

Artoo was waiting for them inside Kenobi’s hut, taking his customary place in front of a round, wooden table. The table – along with a few other pieces of furniture – was a recent addition to the old hut. It was Tahiri who had decided they should fix the place up, back when she and the other Masters had chosen Tatooine as one of their enclaves. Ben had even helped her repair the roof and clean up the mess left by scavengers. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it was livable.

Ben ran his fingers across Artoo’s dome as he passed by; he received a happy chirp in response. Ben took a seat on what might have once been a bed and watched his grandfather enter the dwelling. Anakin had to duck his head coming through the main archway, and he looked a bit uncertain as his eyes swept the room. Ben wondered if he was picturing Obi-Wan Kenobi eating here, sleeping here, maybe even dying here.

Again, Ben felt the weight of secrets on his shoulders as he waited for Anakin to sit down. There was so much to tell, so much that his family had endured. How could he even begin? What exactly could you say to a person who had tried to destroy the galaxy?

Tell him who he is.

They were his own words. For years, Ben had hoped he might hear a different voice – one of his parents, or his aunt even – whispering guidance in his ear. But it had never come, and the only voice he heard in there was his own.

“I spent most of the speeder ride wondering how I would start this conversation.” In his ears, his words sounded almost too calm, too detached. Ben frowned and continued. “Like Artoo said, it’s been forty-seven years since you died, and a lot has changed.”

Anakin nodded. He was hunched forward, forearms on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. Ben noticed that his grandfather’s left leg had started to shake.

“I figure we’re going to have to come to it sooner or later,” he said, trying not to stare at Anakin’s nervous shaking. “So, I might as well start at the beginning.”

Deep breath.

Say it.

“You turned to the dark side. I don’t know when, exactly, and I don’t know why or how. We believe it happened at the end of the Clone Wars.”

Stars, why was his voice so calm? And why was Anakin still staring at him as though he hadn’t heard a word? Ben swallowed.

“The reason I don’t know more is because the Emperor hunted down all the Jedi and did his best to erase them from public memory. That includes you; only a few people knew that you were once Anakin Skywalker. Everyone else knew you as Darth Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith.”

He couldn’t go on, not until he got some kind of reaction from his grandfather. The leg had stopped shaking, but apart from that, Anakin was deathly still, positioned the same way he’d been when he first sat down.

Didn’t you hear me? He wanted to scream it, slap Anakin in the face with it. Say something…

Anakin took a long, quiet breath, his eyes narrowing at the floor. What Ben wouldn’t give to know what was running through his head. Sadness? Shock? Disbelief? Anakin lifted his eyes to meet his. Then it clicked.

“You’re not surprised.”

Anakin looked away a little too quickly. “He told me.” His voice was soft and strained. “Before I came here, he told me he was a Sith Lord, the one we’d been looking for.”

“Palpatine.”

Anakin nodded, still looking away. His expression was bitter. “Darth Sidious. My friend.”

Ben felt that last word like a punch in the gut. If he hadn’t already been sitting, he probably would have needed to. “Friend?”

Anakin looked up at him, and for a second, Ben thought his grandfather might get down on his knees and beg forgiveness. “I met him when I was nine,” Anakin explained, his tone touching on pleading. “He’s watched out for me since then.”

Ben paused before answering. But of course, that made a perversely beautiful kind of sense, didn’t it? Who would ever suspect that their mentor might betray them?

Must be a trend.

“It makes sense,” he murmured.

“But how could no one have known? I’m the poster boy for the war effort, my face is everywhere!” Anakin was standing now, pacing across the room. He stopped dead and turned to face Ben. “And what about Padmé?”

The first part was probably the easiest to explain. “You fought Obi-Wan Kenobi, and you lost. You were forced to wear full body armor to stay alive. Your face was concealed, and your voice was altered by the mask. You must have had replacement limbs, too, because you were as tall as a Wookiee in your armor.”

Anakin flexed his gloved right hand. “But what about Padmé? And the baby?”

Ben took a deep breath. Come on, Dad. Give me something here.

Silence.

Ben exhaled. “It wasn’t just the one baby, Anakin. She was carrying twins.” He held up a stopping hand as Anakin’s eyes went very, very wide. “Again, I don’t know the details, but at some point she went into hiding and gave birth. The twins were separated so that you wouldn’t be able to find them.”

Anakin practically fell against the closest wall. “Twins?” His voice was weak. “There’s going to be two?”

“There were two.”

Anakin faltered for a moment, but he pressed his lips in a grim line and continued. “What are their names?”

Ben hesitated. This was the part he wasn’t so sure about. If his dad and his aunt were compromised, the galaxy was doomed. On the other hand, if his aunt survived, she might still have children… and they’d be right back to square one.

“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you all of this. For all I know, you could return to your time and still end up as a Sith. Only this time around you’d have information that could destroy any hope of saving the galaxy.”

Anakin slid down along the wall into a seated position, eyes never leaving Ben. “Please,” he whispered.

Force, what had he gotten himself into?

“I suppose,” he said, “if you’re going to truly understand just how screwed up things have gotten, you need to know the truth.”

Or the version of it that I see fit.

Stop it.

“My dad was Luke Skywalker. He was brought here, to Tatooine, to be raised by his aunt and uncle. Obi-Wan watched over him from afar, waiting for the right time to train him as a Jedi. That’s why he was living here.” Ben indicated the sparse interior of the hut.

“The other baby was a girl, my aunt Leia. Her mother took her to Alderaan, where she was raised as Bail Organa’s daughter.”

“And Padmé?” His grandfather’s single-mindedness was a bit disturbing in this instance.

“She died while Aunt Leia was still young. I’m sorry, I don’t know more.”

Anakin was strangely silent; Ben wondered if this was how he always took bad news. Darth Vader had apparently been famous for acting out rather violently when things did not go his way, but Anakin was almost the opposite. If anything, he was internalizing everything, turning inside himself. Ben felt his stomach tighten as he realized that maybe he and his grandfather weren’t so dissimilar.

“When you look in the mirror, what do you see?” They are his father’s words, spoken to a ten-year-old boy.

“It depends,” he answers. “Sometimes I see a Jedi. Mostly I just see me, though.”

“What else?” His father always knows when he is withholding. He waits silently for two minutes before Ben answers.

“Sometimes I see the dark side.”

“In you?”

“No.” He remembers the mirror and what he saw there. “Waiting for me.”

As strange as it seemed, Ben would have felt more comforted if Anakin had just thrown a temper tantrum or something.

“My dad couldn’t remember her at all,” Ben said after a moment, bringing himself back into the here and now. “He and Aunt Leia grew up without knowing the truth about you. They didn’t even know they were twins.”

Anakin leaned his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. For a moment, Ben felt as though he were intruding on a private conversation; it reminded him of the few times he had caught his mom or his aunt having a one-sided conversation with his dead father.

At least he’d always assumed it was one-sided. They never told him if Dad answered.

It was several seconds before Ben realized Anakin was crying. He had expected this reaction earlier – much earlier, in fact – and somehow the delay had thrown him off.

“You did turn back, eventually,” Ben said as gently as he could, given the circumstances. “Took over twenty years, but you finally killed Palpatine and saved my dad in the process.”

—arms wrapped around him, pulling him away as he kicks and screams and cries—

—a gentle yet firm mental touch—

—a goodbye, and a shock wave in the Force so powerful that it swallows everything around it, including Ben’s heart—

He could still feel Jag’s arms and Jaina’s hands, alternately pulling and pushing. He could still remember the way his knees hit the floor when they reached the ship. He could still hear blasterfire and sirens and Mom screaming through the comlink.

Maybe that’s my family’s curse: a line of fathers destined to die for their sons.

Anakin’s brow was deeply furrowed. The tears had already been wiped away. “But if I killed Palpatine, then why are there…?” He trailed off as understanding dawned. “You still have more to tell me.”

Ben nodded. “A lot more.”

Anakin listened for nearly two hours as Ben described, in excruciating detail, the changes the galaxy had undergone since the time of Darth Vader. Anakin learned that his children had eventually been reunited and become galactic heroes. He learned of Obi-Wan’s death, and Yoda’s. He learned of the New Republic and the dangers his children had faced as they tried to rebuild what their father had destroyed. He learned of the alien race that had brought the New Republic to its knees. There were some familiar names and places – he discovered at last what had happened to Outbound Flight and Vergere and Zonama Sekot. There were grandchildren and Jedi and so many deaths. There were more Sith.

He realized as he listened that there wasn’t anything he could say or do that would ever make things right. He was fairly certain that any attempt at an apology would elicit little more than a cynical remark from Ben. And he would deserve it, too. He deserved to be scorned and hated.

You shouldn’t even be feeling sorry for yourself, he told himself. There was so much loathing in that inner voice.

I know. Gods, don’t you think I know?

Anakin had done his best to sit still and listen as Ben turned what was left of his world upside down. His grandson would pause every so often just to stare at him. It reminded Anakin a little of being nine again and standing in front of Yoda and the rest of the Council, as though there was something inherently wrong about him that needed discovering. Ben’s eyes were a different shade of blue than the ones Anakin saw every day in the mirror, but there was an intensity to them that he recognized from his own reflection. And he would stare and stare, and Anakin tried not to wither under his gaze, twisting his fingers together until his left hand was nearly numb.

He had allowed himself to remain hopeful, which was a mistake. He’d thought there couldn’t be anything worse than the Emperor or these Vong creatures, but there was. His name was Darth Caedus, and he was a personal betrayal of everything Anakin’s children had fought for. Bad enough that Anakin had become a Dark Lord of the Sith. But then his grandson had followed in his footsteps, and everything that might have been salvaged was instead destroyed.

It all started when Jacen was captured by the Yuuzhan Vong, Ben explained. They had broken a part of him – Vergere had broken a part of him – and he had never really healed. His fall was a slow one, thirteen years in the making.

For Anakin, it was not all that unfamiliar a story.

The worst part of it all – at least in Anakin’s mind – was what Jacen had done to his family before he died. Ben skimmed over the details of his parents’ deaths, but Anakin heard enough to know that his son had died saving Ben from Jacen. Ben’s mother – who had apparently known Vader in her youth – died a couple of years later. Jacen’s twin sister had been the one to finally defeat him, but at the cost of her own life.

Anakin wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had happened to his daughter.

They had been sitting in silence for several minutes when Anakin finally gathered enough courage to ask Ben a question.

“Do you have any holos of them? Of my children?”

Ben glanced at Artoo, who until now had very quietly been sitting off to the side. “Yeah, we have a few.” He jerked his head toward the table, and the little droid rolled forward. “All right, Artoo. I need you to pull up that collection of still-holos I programmed. Start with Aunt Leia.”

Artoo warbled a sad reply and began to cycle through a series of images. The tabletop and the air around it glowed blue.

Anakin swallowed hard as four images displayed in a constant loop. The holos of Leia showed a middle-aged woman whose striking beauty was tempered by war, worry, and too many sleepless nights. He could see hints of Padmé in her face and her eyes, but she was different. Her features were sharper, more commanding. Had she known where that came from? Had she known that she shared her penetrating stare with the man she once loathed to call her father?

He stared at Ben, as if gazing long enough would allow him to see backward in time to a place where his Leia was innocent and carefree. His voice cracked as he spoke. “How did my daughter die?”

Ben shifted uncomfortably. “Bravely,” he murmured. “And she took four of those Force-damned Sith with her. Not the students but the full-fledged Lords.” He pressed his fingertips together and stared down at them. “She glowed. Tahiri said my cousin Anakin glowed like that before he died. She was… frightening to look at.” Ben spoke carefully, as if remembering something too terrible to be expressed in words. “I think in those last moments, she was probably one of the greatest Jedi I’d ever seen.” He gave Anakin a wry grin. “And I’ve seen my share, believe me.”

Anakin nodded and looked away, lifting his fingers to the edges of the holoimage. Artoo stopped on the first hologram, one in which Leia was staring past the recording unit, a faint smile on her lips. Her hair was pulled back and coiled at the base of her neck, and she wore a pale tunic and dark pants with a belt slung low on her hips. A lightsaber hung from one of the belt clips.

He had done this. He had killed her. It was his fault the Sith had survived, his fault that there were not enough Jedi to stop the Yuuzhan Vong and the dark side from ripping his family apart. Everything that had happened to the galaxy, to his children, to Ben… it was all because of him.

“Can I see my son?” he asked quietly.

Ben nodded and placed a hand on the droid’s dome. “Artoo?”

The little droid hesitated, turning his sensors toward Ben.

“I know you miss him, Artoo. Please.”

The droid swiveled its dome back toward the table, and a blue-edged image of an older man appeared before them. As he had done with Leia, Artoo cycled through a few holos of Luke, repeating them over and over. Anakin watched in awe as he looked at his son, older here than Obi-Wan, almost as old as Qui-Gon had been when Anakin had first met him. This was the son Padmé had been so sure about, the one she’d been dreaming of as he grew in her womb. His hair was mostly gray, and there were lines etched deep in his skin, but his face was kind. There was even a faint hint of mischief in his eyes.

Anakin felt a swell of pride. If everything Ben said was true – and he had no reason to doubt him – Luke had been everything his father should have been. He had been brave and true. He had been compassionate and selfless. Yes, he had touched the darkness over the years, but he hadn’t been consumed by it. And yet… and yet Luke was forced to watch his friends and family perish, was forced to sacrifice his own life to save Ben and the others. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

How much suffering could he have prevented, simply by refusing the dark side?

“Thanks, Artoo.” Ben sat there silently as Artoo shut off his projector. The light from the moons spilled through the slits that served as windows, illuminating the room enough for Anakin to make out Ben’s features. Anakin twisted his hands together, staring at the place where the holos had been.

“Do you have any others?” he whispered.

“I have a few more, mostly of my parents and me,” Ben replied, “but I lost most of them when we went on the run. That’s why I started putting them in Artoo – to have a backup.” He glanced away for a moment. “I destroyed some of them when I was younger, too. Anything with Jacen in it.” Ben shook his head. “It was a stupid impulse. I lost a lot of holos of my cousins and my aunt and uncle that way.”

“I can understand why you’d want to be rid of him.”

“Yeah, well, I regret it now. I could have shown you what Aunt Leia was like before all this happened.”

Artoo chirped at Ben and activated his holoprojector.

“Artoo, no—”

But the droid interrupted Ben, reassuring him that it was okay. Anakin wondered what kind of holo would worry Ben. Maybe he thought Anakin was too emotionally drained to handle any more ghosts from the past?

The hologram was somewhat grainy. It began with a flicker of static, then settled into the shape of a girl standing upright in a long, white gown.

With a jolt, Anakin realized who he was looking at.

“General Kenobi. Years ago you served my father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire.”

She was young, perhaps younger than Anakin himself. Her regal bearing, her measured voice; it was so painfully reminiscent of Padmé. He wondered if Leia had picked that up from her before she died.

“I regret that I am unable to present my father’s request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and I’m afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed…”

While Leia continued her message, Anakin noticed that Ben was leaning forward, mouth open and eyebrows raised. Anakin turned his eyes back to the image, consumed by it.

“…This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

Artoo shut off the projector. Anakin felt a shiver along his spine at the sound of Obi-Wan’s name on this girl’s lips. And then there was the mention of her father – it hurt to know she was referring to Bail Organa and not to him, that he was the one she was running from.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Ben murmured. “I mean, I knew about it, but I guess it never occurred to me that Artoo would save it.”

“That was the message that brought them together?”

“Yes.”

“How old was she there?”

Ben looked down at his fingers, counting under his breath. “Nineteen.”

Nineteen? That was even younger than Anakin, and several years younger than Padmé. Nineteen! And Ben said she’d already been a senator for a year before sending this message.

He knew he didn’t have any right to be, but Anakin was proud of his daughter. She had accomplished so much, doing things for the galaxy that he could hardly imagine. And she had done it while facing almost constant war and the loss of her family, one by one. She was truly her mother’s daughter.

Anakin had always known that the combination of his Force potential with Padmé’s brains and good looks would make for some impressive babies.

“What are you smiling about?”

Anakin looked up, horrified. “Am I smiling?”

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ben dismissed his concern with a wave. “You’ve got to find something to be happy about if you’re going to avoid falling to the dark side.”

“If you’re trying to cheer me up, I’ve gotta tell you, you’re doing a terrible job.”

For the first time since leaving the camp, Ben smiled. Really smiled. “We should get some rest. I think it’s past your bedtime, Gramps.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he said with mock concern: “It has to be taking a lot out of you, trying to keep pace with a young kid like me.”

“Okay, you claim that you get your sense of humor from your mom, but I’m telling you, that is a Skywalker trait right there.”

“Maybe you should take the bed. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself sleeping on this hard floor—”

“You’re just asking for it, aren’t you?”

The Sith Temple had been built atop a natural spring of pure Force energy, and when the rays of the setting sun hit it, it gleamed particularly fierce. The obsidian center spire of the temple stood taller than all others near it, and light seemed to bend and refract around it so that as bright as the rest of the building shone, that single tower remained bathed in shadow.

It was from this point that Darth Krayt looked down on the capital of his empire.

He had known it by a few names, though Coruscant was still the one he liked best. The people of this world had struggled to reproduce that which had been destroyed or disfigured by the Yuuzhan Vong, but they couldn’t remove all evidence of the invaders. Darth Krayt had a sense for all things Yuuzhan Vong. He had, after all, been their prisoner, subject to their experiments and their Embrace of Pain. The experience had left a lasting impression. The vonduun crab armor he wore now seemed to enhance that impression. Whatever it was, he could feel the flora and fauna of Yuuzhan’tar that lay in the city’s underbelly.

The Sith Master turned away from the viewport as the doors to his chamber opened. Light spilled into the room, illuminating the empty throne. Krayt stepped away from his perch and descended the steps, stopping one step above the officer and the child who had entered the room.

“Leave us,” Krayt ordered.

The officer saluted before turning crisply on his heel and exiting. Krayt watched him go.

“You look strong today,” he said once the door had closed.

The little boy was six years old, with dark blond hair and a cherubic face that contrasted sharply with the military cut of his black uniform. He bowed his head. “I feel strong, Papa.”

Krayt smiled. “I am glad to hear it. The medics said you were very ill.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I told them my son would not be weakened by a mere virus.”

The boy nodded his head. “I did the healing thing, like you showed me.”

“Excellent. I am pleased with your recent progress.” Krayt drew the boy closer. “But now I have a new task for you, the most important you have ever been given.”

“I won’t fail you, Papa,” the child replied, brown eyes bright with anticipation.

“I know you won’t. Now come with me, son. We have much to discuss.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

He was standing on the edge of the cliff, the outline of the rocks below just visible in the fading light. Padmé’s cries were softer tonight, coming to him from across a great distance, perhaps coming to him across seventy years.

“Anakin!”

Her muffled plea tore through him like a knife, but he knew – in a way beyond knowing – that nothing he did would end her pain.

The tears came hard and fast, but he remained motionless on the cliff, watching the dark water below. He could feel the dragon near him, as though it was perched on his shoulder, waiting, its dead weight resting on his soul.

Jump, the voice whispered. Just let go.

The wind clawed at him, pulling him toward the edge. He tried to reach for a railing, a rock – something to keep him anchored. His fingers raked uselessly through the air.

The voice laughed. Still afraid to fall?

No! He tried to scream it, to hurl it at the dragon, but it was swatted aside by the wind.

Surely you understand by now, the dragon continued. All things die, Anakin Skywalker.

All things die.

He began to fall.

Anakin awoke to the sound of R2-D2 chirping and tweeting like a bird. It was several long seconds before he realized the droid was attempting to sing.

“Ah, come on, Artoo,” he mumbled, cracking one eye open to look for the little droid. The room was dark at first, and Anakin wondered if it was still night or if the apartment’s shades had malfunctioned again. “Padmé…”

A short beep.

Anakin tilted his head back to see Artoo roll into the room. He filled the width of the doorway, which looked a bit different than he remembered.

“Oh,” he murmured, staring into the droid’s optic sensor. Artoo didn’t respond; he returned to the other room, leaving Anakin to stare numbly at the synstone walls of Obi-Wan’s hut.

He rolled into a seated position, legs spread out in front of him, head cradled in his hands. He had that crushing feeling around his heart again, the same thing he’d felt last night as Ben related detail after horrible detail. The same thing he’d felt as he stood in the Council chamber, making the decision that would damn him for all time.

Anakin looked up, and Artoo was positioned once again in the doorway.

“Still not going to talk to me?”

The droid was silent. Anakin could hear the steady whir of servos as he rotated his dome a quarter turn in each direction.

Anakin sighed. “Not that I blame you.” He rubbed his knees with the heels of his hands. “But you’re the only friend I’ve got here.”

Artoo made an impatient noise and wheeled away; Anakin saw him heading for the open front door. He followed him outside to where Ben was sitting on the edge of the precipice, his legs dangling over the side. The suns were just coming over the horizon.

“Did you sleep okay?” Ben asked without looking back. There was little in his tone to suggest that he actually cared how Anakin had slept.

“I think it’s been days since I really slept.” It felt like much longer than that. He hadn’t realized until arriving here just how tired he was.

Ben looked over his shoulder and nodded. “I believe it. You looked terrible.” He eyed Anakin for a moment, a small grin creeping around the corners of his lips. “Well, you still look terrible.”

Anakin frowned. “Thanks.”

Ben swung his legs up over the edge and stood up, dusting off his pants as he did so. “We should head back to the enclave.”

“You think that datapad will be cracked soon?”

Ben shrugged. “Maybe, but mostly I don’t want to miss Karanya’s breakfast. She and her kids cook for everyone in the mornings.”

“They don’t cook dewback eggs, do they?” Anakin had eaten them only a couple of times when Watto was in a particularly good mood after a day at the races, and they remained one of his favorite foods.

“Sure, they cook them. It’s not like we can just go into town and buy the regular stuff anyway.”

Anakin grinned. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

They sealed up the old hut and mounted their swoops. The return journey didn’t seem nearly as long as the trip the night before, and after a few short hours, Anakin and Ben arrived at the edge of the Jedi camp. Children were just starting to filter out of the tents, most of them bleary-eyed and yawning as they trudged toward Karanya’s tent.

“I thought after breakfast we might have a little sparring practice,” Ben said as he tied his swoop down. Anakin looked away from the children and steered his bike into the open stall next to Ben’s.

“Sounds good to me—”

“Ben!”

Anakin turned in time to see Ben stagger backward from the force of two children flinging themselves at him.

“Whoa there, guys, let me breathe!” Ben laughed as he tried to disentangle himself. “You two are getting too big! Next time you do that you’ll probably knock me over.”

As if on cue, the two children – both boys – threw themselves into Ben’s arms a second time. Contrary to his prediction, he did not fall over, but it did seem to require every ounce of balance and strength to keep himself upright. Ben set the boys back on the ground and held them at arm’s length. “All right, that’s enough for now. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.”

He turned the boys around, and Anakin finally got a good look at their faces. The boy to Ben’s right had wavy brown hair and big brown eyes that were looking up at him in open awe. The boy standing to Ben’s left had even darker brown hair and green eyes set in a face that was far too controlled for someone so young. Anakin felt his chest constrict as he stared down at them.

“These are my cousins,” Ben said, hands on the shoulders of the two boys. “This is Davin,” he said, nodding at the boy to his right. He turned toward the green-eyed boy. “And this is Dolan. Boys, this is Jedi Anakin.”

Davin looked up at Ben, his eyes still wide. “Like Uncle Anakin?”

Anakin kneeled in the sand, putting himself at eye level with the boys. “I was named for him, actually. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” They were so young, younger than he’d been when he left Tatooine.

“How come we’ve never met you before?” Dolan asked, studying Anakin with unnerving intensity.

Ben frowned and squeezed Dolan’s shoulder. “He’s been hiding, just like the rest of us. You know that.”

“Okay,” Dolan said, shrugging off Ben’s hand.

Anakin felt an irrationally strong urge to gather the boys in his arms and hug them for as long as they would allow it. These were the children he had heard about the night before, the sons of his granddaughter Jaina. Part of him was in them, and part of Padmé, too. He thought of the last time he’d seen Padmé, how sad she had seemed. She hid it well, but he’d sensed it underneath, not only sadness, but fear and guilt as well. He thought he could fix everything because he was the Chosen One and because he loved her and they were going to have a family. The dull ache in his heart exploded with fresh pain.

Davin and Dolan looked at each other and then up at Ben. Their cousin smiled at them. “Run along, you two.”

“It was nice to have met you,” Davin said quickly as he and Dolan turned and ran off.

Anakin stood and watched them leave. “They’re very perceptive.”

Ben looked over his shoulder and stared at the path the boys had made in the sand. “It runs in the family.” He turned and met Anakin with a smirk. “But to be fair, you weren’t really hiding your feelings very well.”

“You don’t think they realized—”

“No, I doubt it. Besides, I barely believe it myself.” He fixed Anakin with a pointed stare. “You’d better not go telling them.”

“Of course I won’t!”

“Okay, okay, just reminding you, that’s all.” Ben glanced over his shoulder. “So how about that breakfast?”

Meeting the twins had made him forget about food, but now that he thought about it, he was starving. He could even smell those dewback eggs. “Just show me the way.”

The cerulean-colored blade sizzled to life little more than a centimeter from Ben’s throat. It shouldn’t have been so close; after all, Anakin had been on the ground less than a second ago, his saber deactivated and flying out of his open hand. He shouldn’t have gotten up so fast, but he did it anyway. Ben ducked to the side and planted his left hand on the soft sand while kicking out with his legs. Somehow his boots connected with Anakin’s chest and sent him stumbling backward, long enough for Ben to jump to his feet and charge.

His father had once told him that Darth Vader was one of his toughest opponents, not because of his technique – which was certainly impressive, especially for a person wearing several kilos of armor – but because he kept on coming, no matter what was thrown at him. A juggernaut in the fullest sense of the word.

As Ben watched Anakin regain his footing and hurtle forward to meet him, he realized just how true that was.

Their lightsabers connected hard, the green and blue blades sparking angrily under the pressure. “I guess you’re pretty hard to kill,” Ben said over the noise.

Anakin leaned into his attack, using his height to force Ben’s saber down. “I get that a lot.” He batted Ben’s blade aside and swept his own in a diagonal line from his hip. Ben took a step back and raised his lightsaber just in time to block. “But I’d rather not test that idea too thoroughly.”

Ben smirked. “Am I getting too close for comfort?”

Anakin weaved his saber through a rapid series of blocks; his motions were fluid but powerful, and he batted away each of Ben’s attacks as though they were mere annoyances. “You wish,” his grandfather said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Valin and a few of the children approaching the circle. He definitely did not want to lose in front of the kids. They would run off and tell Davin and Dolan, and he would never hear the end of it.

Silly as he knew it was, that was all the motivation he needed.

“Now watch, because I’m only going to show you this once.” Ben swung the lightsaber from his right shoulder, and was met instantly by Anakin’s blade. Without pausing, Ben deactivated his weapon, sidestepped to the left, and smiled as a bewildered Anakin pitched forward. Before his grandfather could correct, Ben tackled him to the ground, sending sand flying in every direction.

When the dust settled, Ben was sitting on Anakin’s back, pinning his arms down. He was well aware of the very smug smile on his face in that moment, and he absolutely didn’t care who saw it. Beneath him, Anakin grunted.

“You know, I do lose occasionally. It’s not like you accomplished anything special.”

Ben looked down at him. “Believe me, Anakin. I most certainly did.”

“Fine, just get off already. You’re crushing my lungs.”

Ben stood up and waited while Anakin picked himself up. “Sorry.”

Anakin coughed a few times before dusting himself off. “Stars, you’re heavy.”

Ben handed Anakin his lightsaber and smacked him none too gently on the back. “You’re hurting my feelings, really.” He looked over at the edge of the circle where the children were staring at them open-mouthed, some of them whispering in each other’s ears. Ben noticed Valin’s son, Savl, grinning and tugging on his father’s sleeve. Ben left Anakin and jogged over to the others.

“Feel like getting your hands dirty?” he asked Valin.

“Against you? No thanks, I don’t feel like embarrassing myself.”

“Naw, I’m done for now. I think Anakin could go for another round, though.”

Valin looked past Ben and shook his head. “I was watching, you know. He’s really good.”

“You’re telling me you can’t handle a kid fifteen years younger than you? Come on, Horn.”

Valin removed his jacket and handed it to his son. The boy was flush with excitement. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret this?”

“Because you’re a very negative person.”

“I am not.”

“Quit stalling.”

Valin scowled and leaned closer to Ben, eyeing the children as he did so.

“Can you at least get rid of them?” he whispered.

Ben turned to the group of children. “Don’t you all have lessons to attend to? I think I hear Master Nal calling for you.”

The children giggled and scampered off; only Savl Horn remained.

“That means you, Savl.”

The boy waved at his father before running after his friends.

“Thanks, Ben.” Valin began rolling up his sleeves. “Although I probably won’t be thanking you when this is over, win or lose.”

Ben pointed at the center of the ring where Anakin was waiting. “Would you just go already?” He laughed as Valin scowled and jogged over to his opponent.

“Ben Skywalker.”

He bent his head and smiled to himself as Tahiri Veila joined him at the edge of the circle. “Still alive, huh?”

He didn’t have to look at her to know she was smirking. “For now, it seems.”

“You know, you’ll probably outlive us all.”

She put her hands in the pockets of her long, sandy brown trench coat. “I sincerely hope not.”

There was silence after that. They watched as Valin and Anakin shook hands and started stretching.

“I thought you and your crew were supposed to be deep undercover.” It was not so much a question as it was a reminder.

Ben folded his arms across his chest and kept his gaze on Valin and Anakin. They were circling one another now, lightsabers drawn. “Myri contacted me about the situation. She’s been keeping tabs on us since we left.”

“Please tell me you weren’t the ones who invaded the Sith headquarters on Ossus.”

Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “You heard about that.”

“Of course we did. Myri told me everything.”

Everything? Ben licked his lips and took a long breath. He had a feeling he knew where this was headed.

“Myri mentioned you had a stowaway.” Tahiri jerked her chin toward Anakin, who at that moment was pushing Valin back toward the opposite side of the circle. “That wouldn’t be him, would it?”

Ben didn’t respond. He watched as Anakin’s lightsaber slipped under Valin’s and knocked it up in a high arc. Valin didn’t lose his grip, but he took three steps back to regain his footing.

Tahiri sighed, and Ben was struck by how old that sigh made her sound. “Who is he, Ben?”

He wondered how much he should tell her, how much he could tell her without her thinking he was insane. Tahiri was one of the few who always knew when he was hiding something. Ben lowered his gaze to the sand. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

In the practice circle, Anakin was somersaulting to avoid a powerful swing. He landed behind Valin and reached his blade over his shoulder to block the next attack. Before Valin could finish striking, Anakin ducked and threw his hands out, knocking his opponent into the air with a wave of energy. Valin landed on the ground several meters away. Ben thought he heard him mutter, “No fair.”

“You think he’s your grandfather?”

“What?” It was out of his mouth before he had time to prepare an answer, and he knew – both by the shock in his voice and the look on Tahiri’s face – that he had given himself away.

“Why would I think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because that’s who he claimed to be, and instead of locking him up or dumping him somewhere in an escape pod, you brought him here and let him use a lightsaber.” She stared at him expectantly. “Myri watched the tape, Ben. She told me about your interrogation.” Her voice took on a slight chill. “What happened after you disconnected the camera?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t want Elias’s girlfriend to see me using the Force, that’s all.”

Tahiri nodded and looked away. “Don’t see why you’d need to use the Force in the first place. At least not in any way that would be obvious.”

“Okay, so I may have roughed him up a bit. But as you can see, we’re all one big happy family now.” Ben mentally kicked himself. He really hadn’t meant it to come out that way. Thankfully, Tahiri either didn’t notice the slip – unlikely – or she chose not to acknowledge it.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” she said after a long moment.

“Yeah? You might be the only one.”

Ben thought Tahiri might try to argue with him, but instead she nodded toward the ring where Valin was once again picking himself off the ground.

“He’s very powerful. Reminds me of your dad.”

Ben quirked one eyebrow at her. “But not me? What are you saying, Tahiri?”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. It’s just… I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s a lack of restraint, an openness about him. He has a lot of power and emotion, like your dad.”

“Again, not me?”

“Come on, Ben. Do you know how hard it is to get you to talk about anything, let alone your feelings? Face it, kiddo. You take after your mom in that department.”

Ben didn’t say anything; in truth, he didn’t know what to say when someone commented on how he resembled his parents. He’d stopped knowing what to say a long time ago.

“That’s not a bad thing, you know.” Tahiri’s voice had lost most its edge. “I always admired that about Mara. You might say I’ve tried to emulate her.” She returned her gaze to Anakin. “We’re just different, is all. We don’t wear our hearts on our sleeves. We protect ourselves.”

Ben wondered if that was where Anakin had gone wrong. Maybe he hadn’t guarded his heart enough. Maybe he had let everything in until he was too full to contain it anymore.

Ben was lucky, he supposed. As a baby he had naturally distanced himself from the Force. Closing off his mind or disappearing from the Force had always been less of a trick and more of a talent for him than it was for the other Jedi.

“I guess it’s easier when you’re born that way.” He glanced at Tahiri sidelong. “Or made that way.”

Tahiri made a dismissive noise. “The Yuuzhan Vong didn’t make me this way, Ben. I made myself. I chose how to deal with what they did to me, just like you could choose to be more open, if you wanted.”

“You’re saying I should?”

“I’m saying it’s your choice. I don’t care whether you keep everything bottled up inside or share every single feeling you’ve ever experienced; just don’t go blaming things on something that happened to you when you were a baby.”

Ben leaned over and nudged her in the arm. “When did you get so wise?”

Tahiri gave him a wry grin. “Someone had to fill in the gap.”

Inside the circle, Valin was sitting on the sand, arms wrapped around his knees. “I’m done,” he called out, gasping for breath. He glared at Ben. “I’m really mad at you, Skywalker.”

Ben laughed. “I’m sure you are.”

“Very mature of you,” Tahiri said. “Picking on your elders.”

Ben tried not to roll his eyes at the word “elders” being used to describe a man who was barely middle-aged. “Hey, I’ve been the responsible adult for the last six months. Cut me some slack.”

“Clearly we have different ideas about how responsible adults behave.”

Ben made sure Anakin and Valin were looking the other way when he stuck his tongue out at Tahiri. She shook her head.

“Right, because that’s so much more mature.”

Valin and Anakin joined them before Ben could respond. Both were sweaty and grimy, Valin especially with half his face still coated in tiny granules of sand.

“Feeling better about yourself?” Ben asked Anakin.

“Maybe a little.” His eyes traveled from Ben to Tahiri. Ben grinned.

“Anakin, this is Tahiri Veila, the one I told you about.”

“Told what about?” Tahiri interjected.

“Just that I thought you two would get along.”

Tahiri sighed and extended a hand to Anakin. “I’m really not as intimidating and awful as he tries to make me sound. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too. And he didn’t say you’re awful.”

She turned her green eyes on Ben. “Well, wasn’t that sweet of him?”

Anakin hesitated a moment before releasing her hand and turning toward Ben. “You ready for round two?”

“After the beating you took earlier? I’m not sure you could handle another round. Although I think I’d prefer to keep the score where it is for now.” Ben’s comlink beeped, and he lifted it to his lips. “Go ahead.”

“You’ve got an encoded message coming in.”

“Thanks, Kala Di, I’ll be there shortly.” He put away the comlink and looked at the others. “I’d say playtime is over.”

It had been little more than a day since they’d arrived at the safe house, and Arden was already more stir-crazy than she’d been in six months on the Daybreak. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was literally surrounded by Jedi, or that she had absolutely nothing of use to do. Ulin was working on the stolen datapad, Myri was doing something that looked important, Ames and Allana were sitting with their heads together on the couch, and Kohr was fixing everyone a late breakfast. Elias claimed that he was meditating, although Arden suspected that he had actually fallen asleep about fifteen minutes ago. That left her alone, twiddling her thumbs and trying not to stare at the others.

“Dammit!” Ulin let out a string of expletives, a few in some other language. His shouting jarred Elias out of his meditative state and earned several concerned looks from the rest of the safe house’s occupants.

“Sorry,” Ulin said, cheeks turning red. “Thought I had it… stupid code.” He muttered something unintelligible before burying himself once again in his work.

Elias yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “That was refreshing.”

“I’m sure it was,” Arden replied, not quite sure if he was talking about his nap or Ulin’s outburst. Elias walked over and dropped himself into the chair next to hers. He took her hand and began tracing circles along her skin with the edge of his thumb. Arden smiled.

“Food’s ready!” Kohr announced cheerfully as he emerged from the kitchen. In the corner, Allana giggled and whispered something in Ames’s ear before jumping out of her seat. Arden saw Elias’s eyes narrow a fraction as Ames got up to follow.

“Hey,” Elias said, catching Ames by the elbow. He waited until Allana went through the kitchen door. “If you want to learn seven uncommon and interesting ways the Force can be used to inflict pain, then by all means, keep it up.”

Ames stared down at him, his face completely blank. Kohr appeared over his shoulder, grinning.

“What he’s saying is Ben’s gonna kill you.”

“No, not kill. He’ll…” Elias paused to give his response some thought before giving up and shrugging. “Well, he won’t kill you.”

Ames’s face paled. “We weren’t doing anything! We’re just friends, I swear!”

Kohr disappeared and reappeared over Ames’s other shoulder. “If by friends you mean you’re in love.”

Ames rounded on Kohr, but the older boy was already running to the other side of the room where he ducked behind Myri. Ames chased after him, and the two disappeared into the conference room.

Arden stared after them, eyes wide. “What was that all about?”

Elias grinned. “Ames has a crush on Allana. I like to mess with him.”

“I don’t get it.”

“She’s Ben’s apprentice. More importantly, she’s his cousin.”

“Ah. That explains a few things.” Arden looked up to see Allana standing in the doorway opposite the conference room.

“Where’d they go?” the girl asked.

Elias, Myri, and Ulin – who was still furiously typing away at his computer – all pointed toward the open doorway of the conference room. Arden heard something fall over as the two boys continued to scuffle.

Myri looked up from the datapad she was examining. “They better not break anything, that’s all I’m saying.” She resumed reading as though nothing had happened. Allana groaned and returned to the kitchen. Arden watched her leave.

“Why is she here?” she whispered to Elias. “If she’s Ben Skywalker’s apprentice, why isn’t she with him?”

Elias rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s complicated with them.”

“Seems like everything is complicated when you’re a Jedi.”

Elias made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “It’s even more so with them.”

“I guess that means you won’t tell me?”

“I’m not sure I can. It’s—”

“Complicated, I know.” Arden leaned back in her chair. “Maybe some other time, then. But tell me this: what are these seven ways of inflicting pain?”

Elias grinned. “No clue. Tahiri used to threaten Ben and me with it all the time when we were younger, though.”

“Who’s Tahiri?”

“Tahiri Veila. She was my master, sort of. Not in the traditional sense; we moved around way too much for there to be any traditional Jedi training. I learned from a lot of people, but Tahiri was the main one, the one who watched out for me.”

“Will I get to meet her?”

“If you want to.”

Before Arden could respond, she saw Kohr, Ames, and Allana walk out of the conference room. Kohr seemed to be nursing his left shoulder, while Ames tried to conceal a slight limp.

“Did you break anything?” Myri asked from across the room. Her eyes were still on the datapad.

“No,” Ames said sourly. “Nothing in there to break.”

Myri looked up, her head cocked to one side. “I’m sure I can find something.”

Ames rolled his eyes and groaned. “Are we almost done here? Because I would honestly give anything to not be stuck on this moon anymore.”

Myri made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Geridan Ames, I never knew you were such a whiner.”

“I am not—”

“Your wait’s almost over,” Ulin interrupted.

The entire room went silent as Arden and the others directed their attention to the computer terminal. Ulin was holding up the stolen Ossus datapad.

“Contact Ben and the Council,” he continued. “I know where they took the kids.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

Ben looked around the ovular plasteel table, meeting the eyes of each member of the Jedi Council. Most stared back at him with the blue-tinted eyes of holograms; Tahiri, Valin, and Karanya, at least, were real. He was glad to see that no one else had been lost since Denon.

“Most of you have received word of what happened on Denon. Two weeks ago we lost contact with the enclave there. Myri went to check it out, and she found Isis and the other Jedi dead. The Sith killed them and kidnapped the younglings.”

Ben pulled a small disc from his left breast pocket and inserted it into the holoprojector in the center of the table. A building appeared over the Council members’ heads, level with Ben’s eyes.

“This is Château Malreaux, on Vjun. This is where they’re holding the younglings. And it’s not just them. According to the data Ulin unlocked, there are at least ten other test subjects listed as non-Jedi Force-sensitives.”

“Test subjects?” The revulsion in Jysella Horn’s voice was palpable.

“What kinds of tests?” Tekli asked.

Ben took a deep breath. “We don’t know for sure. But I can tell you that Gabriel Mezzon is in charge of the project.”

“Doctor Mezzon?” Danni Quee Dreiz shook her head. “I thought he died on Yalena, years ago.”

“Apparently not.” Ben wondered, briefly, who had been assigned to oversee Mezzon. The Sith Lords most interested in his line of work had all been killed on Yalena, and there weren’t many beings who could stomach the good doctor, especially when he started throwing Yuuzhan Vong biotech into the mix.

“Those poor children,” Karanya murmured, tears in her eyes. She had lost her youngest child to Mezzon, and Ben tried not to remember how she had wailed over his tiny broken body.

There were a lot of things about Yalena he tried not to remember.

While the other Council members looked around the table in despair, Tahiri stared through the hologram of the mansion, directly at Ben. “What do you propose to do?”

Ben sat down in his chair and braced himself against the edge of the table. “We go get them.”

Tahiri shook her head. “The Jedi Order is barely hanging on. If the information on this datapad is genuine, then you’re talking about a strike at a major Sith world. We can’t afford to take that risk right now.”

Valin sighed and ran both hands over his hair. “If we don’t do something soon, there won’t be any of us left to stop them. You’re talking about leaving those children at the mercy of the Sith.” He looked around the table at the others. “Is that what we are? Are we really the cowards everyone thinks we are?”

Valin met Ben’s eyes and nodded. “I’m with Ben. I say we go.”

The rest of the table was silent. Ben glanced over at Tahiri, who was studying him carefully. He wondered – for the thousandth time – what she had been like before the operation that turned her into a Yuuzhan Vong hybrid. He’d been a baby when it happened. That was strange in itself – they quarreled like brother and sister so often that he sometimes forgot she’d been fighting a war when he was still in diapers.

He could see the wheels turning in her brain, calculating, planning, weighing the lives of the children against the risk of taking a team of Jedi to one of Sith worlds. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the younglings. She’d just seen too many missions go wrong.

“Valin, I want to save the younglings as much as you do,” Tahiri said deliberately, turning toward the other Jedi. “We all wish we could storm in there and rescue them. But we have to think this through. We can’t afford to lose any more Jedi.”

Everyone but Tahiri and Ben had lowered their heads to stare at the scuffed tabletop. As Ben locked eyes with Tahiri, he felt a swell of emotion that nearly caught him off guard. He wasn’t sure if it was coming from him or Tahiri or someone else in the room, but he pushed it away and focused his thoughts on the kidnapped children.

“Look,” he said carefully, “I know this isn’t going to be easy. The Force hasn’t really seemed to be on our side much lately.”

“Ben…” Karanya said softly.

Ben raised a stopping hand. “The point is, I’m not going to sit here and wait for the Force to drop the solution into my lap. I made a promise to protect the Order, and those children are a part of it.” He rested his right hand on the table and began to tap it slowly and deliberately, looking for a way to rephrase the thought that had just popped into his mind. He shook his head and pushed the thought aside. “Anyway, I’m going. I could use some help, but I’ll understand if you think it’s too risky.”

Tahiri’s voice was dangerously soft when she finally spoke.

“You’re saying that if the Council votes against intervention, you will ignore its decision?”

Blue eyes met green for what seemed like the tenth time since the meeting had begun, and Ben could feel all the old arguments resurfacing. He was going to get an earful when this was over, but it wouldn’t change what had to be done.

“I am,” he said, and he’d never been so sure about anything in his whole life.

Jysella sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Ben, Tahiri is right. This sounds like a suicide mission. You know how Vjun favors the Sith.”

“That’s right,” Gren Tivas said. “You’d have to take a very strong team, one that could resist the pull of the dark side.”

“And we can’t afford to lose anyone with that much experience,” Jysella finished.

Valin stepped in before Ben could respond. “Jys, you’re basing your decision on the fear that someone will turn. But isn’t that something we already face every single day?”

“There’s a reason they took the children there, Valin.” Danni’s voice was firm. Though not the most powerful Jedi on the Council, she was the oldest, and that still drew an extra measure of respect from her peers. “We all know why Vjun is dangerous. It changes you. The Sith will be more powerful than ever, our Knights will face greater temptation from the dark side, and who’s to say that the children are still alive?” She shook her head. “As much as I hate myself for saying this, I believe the risks outweigh the benefits.”

Ben had folded his arms across his chest, and his hands tightened around his biceps. “Danni, you’re acting like this is another one of your experiments or puzzles, and it’s not. We’re talking about a bunch of kids. He’s going to cut them up and destroy every part of them that’s pure and decent.” Ben paused before turning to face Tahiri. He could feel his face growing hot. “Maybe you’ve forgotten why you’re here, Tahiri. Where would you be right now if Anakin hadn’t come for you?”

If Tahiri could have killed a person with her eyes alone, Ben was pretty sure he’d be dead where he stood. He sensed the others shrinking away, waiting for the outburst that was surely coming.

Instead of reacting, Tahiri bit her lip and nodded very slowly. “Those in favor of sending a strike team to Vjun, keeping in mind that the Sith will be waiting for us, and it will probably require the presence of several Masters if we are to have a fighting chance. Failure in such a situation would be detrimental to the Order.” Her gaze fell on each of the Council members in turn. “Those in favor?”

Ben gritted his teeth and raised a hand. Valin joined him, and across the table, Karanya raised hers as well. The holograms were motionless.

Tahiri waited for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you. Now, all opposed?”

Tekli, Jysella, Danni, and Gren all raised their hands. Tahiri was the last to do so, but there was no sense of victory in her vote. She shut down the holoproj in the center of the table. Château Malreaux disappeared.

“The decision is five to three, against. I conclude this Council. Be safe, and may the Force be with you.”

The four holograms bowed their heads, repeated the phrase, and faded out. Before Tahiri could turn to face him, before Valin or Karanya could offer any words of encouragement, Ben removed the disc from the holoproj and stalked out of the tent.

Tahiri was going to throttle Ben Skywalker. She was absolutely going to murder him. At one time she’d imagined he would turn out to be the most reasonable member of his family, but when his stubborn streak showed, boy did it ever show. She wasn’t even really upset about the hurtful things he’d said to her; she was furious because he was so fixated on saving the younglings that he was going to get himself killed.

“Hey!” she yelled after him. He had almost reached the edge of the camp when he finally stopped and turned around. He held up both hands defensively.

“I don’t want to discuss this, Tahiri. I’ve made up my mind.”

“And since when do you get to just make up your mind? You’re a Council member and a Knight of this Order; that means you respect the decisions of the Council in all matters, not just the ones you agree with.”

“Even when the decisions are ludicrous?”

“Ben, you have no idea what will happen if you go to Vjun.”

“I know what will happen if I don’t.”

Tahiri pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay, let’s say you go. Let’s say you go and you get yourself killed. What are we supposed to do then?”

Ben threw his hands up in the air. “You’re supposed to keep living, that’s what! You survived Anakin’s death and all the ones after. I think you’ll survive mine.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Tahiri growled. “You’re a symbol, Ben. A symbol of hope, of everything the Jedi Order once was and could be again. And you’d throw that all away just to… gah! I don’t even know why you’re doing it!”

“Because I have to!”

Tahiri pointed a finger in his face. “If you die and those kids end up right back in the hands of the Sith, what good is it going to do anyone?”

Ben scowled and turned away. “My dad would have saved them.”

“Maybe. Probably. But your mom would agree with me. She would wait.”

Ben looked back at her and glared. “You’re wrong. She would have died before letting the Sith twist another child to the dark side.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t change anything, Ben. They’re gone and we’re here, and it really doesn’t matter what they would have done. So I’ll ask again – why?”

Ben was silent for a moment. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out at the horizon, and for a brief second Tahiri could almost believe she was seeing his father.

Ben sighed. “I know I can save them, Tahiri. I know it.”

Tahiri believed him, or at least that he believed his words were true. There was something else there, though, something lurking underneath. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Ben met her gaze, and it was the first time in many years that she’d seen that hint of desperation in his eyes. “I’m tired of hiding from the dark side,” he said. “I’m tired of wondering whether I’ll give in one day and live up to my grandfather’s legacy. I spent six months on that ship, Tahiri. Six months alone in my cabin at night, just waiting.” He paused and looked away, and his voice grew quiet. “You don’t understand how much stronger the pull is at night.”

She thought about telling him that she did understand, that she was intimately acquainted with the lure of the dark side, but she decided in this instance it probably wouldn’t help to point that out.

Instead, she reached out and placed both hands on his shoulders. “You’re not going to fall to the dark side, Ben.”

“I’m sure you felt the same way about Jacen once.”

Tahiri was tempted to punch him. She squeezed his shoulders hard and forced him to look her in the eyes. He winced under her fingertips.

“Listen, kiddo. You know what happened with Jacen was not your fault, and you are not going to make his mistakes. Enough of this kind of talk, okay? Let the dead worry about the dead.”

Ben squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. Tahiri let go of his shoulders.

“I swear, Skywalker, sometimes I just don’t get you.”

Ben blew air through his nostrils and looked out at the horizon. “Everyone’s allowed their moment of weakness, right? Well you just saw mine.”

“I’d hardly call it weakness. You’re human, after all. You’re allowed to be afraid now and then.”

“I try not to make a habit of it.”

“I’ve noticed. I wish I could change that, maybe scare you out of going on this crazy rescue mission.”

Ben angled his body away from her, and she wondered how he had managed to turn her righteous anger into reluctant acceptance.

“We’ll leave after sundown,” Ben said. “Me and whoever else wants to come along. Should give Myri and Ulin enough time to get whatever info we need to make it past Vjun’s defenses.”

“They’ll probably need more than a few hours if they’re going to do all that.”

“We can’t afford to wait any longer. We leave tonight.”

Tahiri studied him for a moment. “Where are you going now?”

“For a ride. Clear my head.”

Tahiri sighed. “Ben, I’m not going to see you off tonight. I hope you understand.”

He hesitated before answering. “I do.”

“Okay, then.” She slipped her hands into her coat pockets. “May the Force be with you.”

Ben’s smile was faint. “And with you, Tahiri.”

The children were staring at him expectantly.

As someone who had faced the most dangerous foes in the galaxy and cheated death on more than one occasion, Anakin was surprised by how intimidating the unblinking stares of eight younglings could be. He wasn’t really sure why these children were so interested in him, but a whole group of them had materialized outside of Ben’s tent sometime around midday demanding to be told the story of his and Ben’s daring escape on Heibic 3. He had indulged them, and now they were back to the staring.

“So,” he said slowly, trying not to fidget. “What now?”

“You got any more stories?” a small boy asked.

Did he ever. Too bad half of them were about the war or his Jedi training; with Davin and Dolan sitting amongst the group, and Ben’s warning still ringing in his ears, Anakin was hesitant to tell any of those stories. As for the other half, well… he wasn’t sure those were exactly appropriate for his very young audience.

Anakin rubbed the back of his neck and scanned his audience. A few of the children, including Davin and little Carin Horn, were resting their chins in the palms of their hands. He couldn’t tell if they were bored or simply waiting for the next outrageous tale of escape.

“Um,” Anakin started, but as he did so he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, something moving very swiftly toward the outskirts of the camp. He broke eye contact with the children to get a better look and was surprised to see Ben untying and then straddling one of the swoop bikes.

“Wait here,” Anakin said, moving away from the children to chase after Ben. He had only gone a few steps when someone stepped out in front of him. At first he only saw a head of sun-bleached hair, then a scarred forehead, and solemn green eyes looking up at him.

“Tahiri.” He said the name with a little too much force, partially because he was checking to make sure that it was, in fact, her name, and partially because he was a little annoyed that she had stopped him from going after his grandson. He took a step back and stared over her head as Ben gunned the engine to life.

“Let him go,” she said softly. “He wants to be alone.” She looked past him at the children. “Shouldn’t you all be heading to your tents for lunch? Scoot!”

The children dispersed, Davin and Dolan hanging back long enough to give Tahiri a smile and a wave. She wrinkled her nose at them and waggled her fingers near her chin. It was one of the odder sites Anakin had seen since being ripped from his own time.

“He’ll be back by nightfall,” Tahiri said as she stared after the twins. “No need to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“Sure.” Tahiri returned her eyes to his. “Ben never told me where you’re from.”

He was a bit taken aback by the question, but Ben had prepared him for this situation. Be honest, but not too honest, was his advice. The fewer outright lies, the better.

Anakin wasn’t entirely comfortable with the deception, but then there wasn’t a whole lot about his circumstances that he did find comfortable. For now he would follow Ben’s instructions.

“I don’t know where I’m from, really,” he started. “I lived here when I was little, and after that I moved around a lot – the Core planets, the Inner Rim. I spent the last several months jumping around the Outer Rim.”

Tahiri nodded, eyebrows raised. “How’d you end up on Ossus?”

Anakin licked his lips. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Were you kidnapped?”

“Something like that.”

She looked away and examined the sleeve of her coat. “Well, it’s obvious you’re very gifted. I can’t believe we’ve never met; I travel to all the enclaves, you know.”

“Well, you must have missed one.”

He was surprised when she let out a short laugh. “Ben was right,” Tahiri said, rubbing her jaw with one hand. “I do like you.”

Anakin wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he kept his mouth shut and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. Tahiri began to walk, and she gestured for Anakin to join her. The questions soon resumed.

“So your parents named you after the great Anakin Solo, huh?”

While her tone seemed completely natural, Anakin sensed her suspicion. He wondered if she knew about who he had claimed to be, and if so, he wondered if she thought he was insane. “Yes. They really admired him.”

“Were they Jedi, too?”

“No.”

Now he sensed sadness, a flash of genuine heartache that had snuck past Tahiri’s shielding.

“He really was unique, even among his fellow Jedi,” she said, her voice soft. “Even compared to the rest of his family. Sometimes I think we clung to that uniqueness a little too much, tried to turn him into something he wasn’t.”

“He was a hero.”

“He was a kid.” There was an old, old bitterness in her voice. “We were all just kids.” She shook her head. “Would he have gone on to do more great things? Or do you think he would have eventually turned on us?”

Anakin’s voice sounded small in his own ears. “I don’t know.”

Tahiri met his gaze and quirked one corner of her mouth. “Sorry. I’m just an old woman rambling on.”

“You’re not old.”

“No, I’m not.” She looked away again. “But then sometimes I am.”

After a moment, she turned and fixed him with a hard stare, one that he was sure had stopped many Jedi dead in their tracks.

“I don’t know if you are who you say you are, but regardless, I want you to know something. I would have died. Maybe not right away, maybe not until they’d wiped away all my human memories and turned me into the perfect hybrid. But I would have died. Anakin Solo saved my life. You’re right to say he was a hero. He was my hero. And then he got himself killed, and one by one I’ve had to watch the rest of his family – my family – follow him to the grave.”

Anakin looked deep into her green eyes and felt his stomach twist into a cold knot, and he wondered if maybe she knew exactly who he was.

Tahiri’s lower lip was trembling, but there were no tears. “Anakin was a hero,” she said firmly. “But I wish to the gods or the Force or whoever’s out there that he didn’t have to be. I wish none of them had been heroes. I wish they’d let someone else take up that job.”

He thought she was going to say more, but she didn’t. His hands were shaking now, and he crossed his arms to hide them from her. “Why are you telling me all of this? You barely know me.”

Tahiri shook her head as if amazed he hadn’t caught on yet. “It’s because I barely know you. And because maybe one day you’ll be in a position to make a difference, and you’ll remember this conversation.”

She blew out a frustrated breath and narrowed her eyes at the horizon. Anakin understood that she was very close to his family, was in fact handpicked by Jaina to be her sons’ guardian. But he hadn’t realized just how much she loved them. All of them, not just his namesake or the twins. And that meant he had failed her, too. He had brought this evil world down on her, had destroyed her life just as surely as he had destroyed Luke’s or Leia’s.

Would he ever have the chance to redeem himself? Was it even possible at this point?

Tahiri sighed and looked up at him. “Take care of him,” she said, and then began to move back toward the tents.

“I will,” he called after her. She didn’t respond, and he watched her walk away, her long coat flapping in the breeze.

Ben had been riding for hours when he finally stopped to take in the sunset. He planted one foot in the soft sand and dismounted, leaving the gently humming swoop bike to float in place while he climbed the steep dune before him. Ben stopped at the crest of the dune and stared out at the horizon. Tatoo II was a half circle, resting along the line of brown rock and sand that separated earth from sky. Its color had deepened from orange to almost blood-red, staining the dark blue around it. Above and to the left, Tatoo I glowed softly, its yellow-white surface tempered by the deepening dusk.

There was a slight breeze in the air; a few strands of hair tickled his ears and face as Ben leaned his head to one side, reflecting on the simple majesty of Tatooine’s sunset. Just about everyone in his family had seen this sight at some point in their lives. Sometimes it seemed as though Tatooine was a fulcrum upon which the destiny of the entire Skywalker line turned. He had been the last to come here, the last to return to the place where so much had started. He had hoped to avoid it; instead, he found himself using it as a base of operations, tying himself to the planet.

Tatooine was not simply his birthright or part of his bloodline. It had become his home.

A home that he desperately wanted to be free of, but a home nonetheless.

Ben kicked the sand with his boot, looking away from the suns. It was almost time to leave. Anakin and the others would be waiting. He still wasn’t sure what to do about his grandfather. He couldn’t leave him here; just being on Tatooine seemed to stir many dark and troubling things inside of the future Sith Lord – not something Ben wanted to encourage. On the other hand, was it any safer to take him to the rendezvous? To include him in the rescue of the children? Not to mention that the rest of the Council would inevitably start asking questions about this mysterious stranger who shadowed Ben’s every step.

He could only imagine how that conversation would go.

Ben ran a hand over his eyes. He had to take Anakin with him; he didn’t have any other choice. If his grandfather went off the deep end, he needed to be there to stop him.

If he could. Ben had the sneaking suspicion that his victory over Anakin earlier that day had as much to do with chance as it did skill. Once his grandfather got over being distraught and disoriented, he would probably be a lot harder to take down.

Now there’s a comforting thought.

Ben watched Tatoo II slip below the horizon. He turned his back on the sight and returned to his swoop.

Time to go.

The shuttle arrived during a particularly violent downpour of acid rain, one that burned most of its black paint right off of the hull. It docked in a sheltered hangar and was met by Darth Festus and Doctor Mezzon, a pale slip of a man who watched quietly as the guards led six individuals – all children – off the shuttle and into Château Malreaux.

Darth Ferrus watched all of this on a vidscreen in the control room where he had just concluded an audience with his master. He wasn’t exactly anxious to tell his brother how the conversation had gone, but it had to be done.

“We had hoped, my lord, that we might lead the Hunt.” Ferrus was still afraid to be alone in a room with his master, even when they were light years apart.

Darth Krayt regarded him coolly from behind his mask. “What makes you think you have the necessary experience?” It wasn’t a taunting tone, and yet Ferrus felt shamed by it.

“We are the youngest Sith Lords in your Order. There’s a reason you chose to promote us so young.”

His master leaned away from the transmitter, his voice deceptively soft. “And you think that reason is sufficient to justify removing Lord Dominius from the Hunt?”

Ferrus sighed and smacked his palms alternately against his cheeks. He’d had a response all planned out in his head, but when it came time to tell his master, of course he’d messed it up. His brother should have been the one to do it; he was more eloquent than Ferrus by far. But Festus refused to make the call, insisting that they go along with the Master’s plan.

Lord Krayt had quickly taken control of the conversation and redirected it to said plan. Ferrus and his brother were to remain on Vjun and worry about the impending attack. No need to look for the Jedi because the Jedi would come to them.

And after that, Dominius will lead the Hunt again, and we’ll still be here on this rock, babysitting a lunatic and his stupid project.

Ferrus jumped out of his seat and made his way to the prisoners’ cells, where his brother would surely be. He was starting to wonder if his twin cared at all about moving up in the ranks. Maybe he really did just want to stay on Vjun.

Ferrus arrived in the cellar where the prisoners were being kept, and sure enough, Festus was there. Ferrus bumped his brother’s shoulder as he passed him, stepping into the dimly lit cell. Two guards were shackling the new arrivals to the wall. They were all human children, two girls and four boys, none of them any older than twelve.

“I like that one,” Festus said, leaning on the doorframe. He nodded toward a small blond boy who was sitting close to a dark-haired girl, staring up at them with big eyes. “He’s a little creepy, don’t you think?”

Ferrus looked over his shoulder at his brother and frowned. “Yeah, reminds me of someone else I know.”

Festus let out a short, smug laugh and sidled up next to his brother. “I imagine,” he whispered, “that we must look quite frightening when we stand together like this.”

Ferrus studied the faces of the younglings and smirked. Most of them were trying not to look at their captors, but a few had noticed that there were now two Sith Lords standing shoulder to shoulder in the doorway. Their eyes were wide as they shrank away from the sight.

“I think it’s the eyes,” Ferrus replied, keeping his voice low. “You were right about them.”

Festus inclined his head slightly. “Why go for those awful yellow things when we were born with such wonderfully eerie ones of our own?”

“Well, the yellow is useful sometimes.” He looked over at Festus, the edges of his blue irises turning the color of fire. “I’d say we look pretty scary this way, too.”

Festus sighed, but there was a hint of a smile around his mouth. “I suppose, if you’re only interested in frightening small children.”

“That’s all you’re interested in.”

“It’s really not.” Festus turned to leave the room, but he lingered for a moment, watching for Ferrus’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. Ferrus’s face twisted in a grimace.

“I really wish I didn’t know half of what goes on in that brain of yours.”

“Trust me, brother,” Festus said as he left the cell. “You don’t know half.”

Ferrus turned to follow him. “I spoke with the Master about—”

“I know.” Festus tapped the side of his head. “Twin intuition, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

Festus gave him a bored look. “Save the sarcasm and put on a smile, brother. Judging by the stink in the air, I’d say Dominius and his little entourage have arrived.”

“I think that stink is coming from Mezzon’s lab.”

Festus rolled his eyes. “Why are you always trying to ruin my fun?” He jerked his head toward a stairwell at the end of the corridor. “Come now; we don’t want to keep our dear friends waiting.”

The Jedi enclave was as still as the night air as Anakin followed Valin Horn to the waiting landspeeder. Kala Di Nal was sitting in the driver’s seat, as solemn as she’d been upon their first meeting; now she was waiting to take them to Ben’s ship, waiting for the man who was responsible for the whole operation.

Ben’s swoop appeared as a black speck on the moon-drenched horizon, growing steadily larger until it came to a roaring stop alongside the speeder. He was silent as he dismounted and guided the bike to its stall, silent as he tossed his bag into the back of the speeder and swung himself into the passenger seat. Anakin and Valin settled into the back.

“I’m sorry about the Council,” Kala Di murmured before firing up the engine. Thankfully, the speeder was much quieter than the swoop Ben had been riding.

Ben dismissed Kala Di’s concerns with a wave. “We’ll be fine as we are. Just take us to the Daybreak.”

The girl nodded and took off into the night.

In the back seat, Anakin held his lightsaber in the palms of his hands. He couldn’t see the path ahead, but he knew there would be blood. He could feel it.

All things die, Anakin Skywalker.

Even stars burn out.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

Arden looked back at the now empty common area of the safe house. Ulin had already said his goodbyes and retreated to the kitchen. Sure, staying behind would definitely be the smart thing to do. But the right thing? She wasn’t so sure. Besides, she’d told Elias she would stick with him, even if it meant going on a crazy mission to yet another Sith world.

“I’m sure,” Arden replied, slipping her hand into Elias’s. “Can’t let you go running all over the galaxy without me.”

Elias smiled. “No, we can’t have that.”

Myri interrupted by placing a hand on Arden’s shoulder. “All right, kids, let’s head out. Don’t wanna miss our own party.”

They followed Myri outside, back into the heavy Nar Shaddaa darkness. Without the haze of rain, Arden could make out a bit more of the moon’s skyline. It wasn’t distinctive or remarkable in any way. She noticed more people roaming the walkways, and she wondered if any of them could be spies for the Sith. She assumed that was part of the reason why Myri had sent Kohr, Ames, and Allana on ahead to the ship.

If truth be told, Arden didn’t really know much about the intelligence business. She generally just followed orders and collected her credits.

Myri’s ship was similar in design to the Daybreak, but it appeared to be a newer – and smaller – model. Arden wasn’t an expert on ships either, but she knew enough to recognize that this ship was built for stealth and probably had a few modifications to boot. As she walked behind Elias and Myri into the secluded hangar, she noticed the cockpit lights were already on. Kohr was sitting in the pilot’s chair, flipping switches overhead.

“All aboard!” Myri said in an almost song-like manner. Arden smiled at the woman’s apparent cheerfulness as she followed Elias up the open ramp.

“What kind of freighter is this?” Arden asked.

Elias smiled over his shoulder. “YT-5500 bomber. Kind of like a freighter and warship in one neat little package.”

Arden looked at the curved interior walls, admiring their sleekness. “How’d she get her hands on one of these?”

“Myri’s got quite a few connections.”

She decided not to ask what kinds of connections those were. “It’s nice,” she said.

“Thanks.”

Arden twisted around to see Myri closing the hatch behind them. She tilted her cap to the side and patted the walls with a reverence usually reserved for religious ceremonies.

“She’s a good, fast ship,” Myri continued. “We’ll be a little cramped with six of us, but we’ll make good time.” She eyed the open cockpit door. “Excuse me while I regain control of my ship.”

A moment later, Arden heard a disgruntled noise that sounded just like Kohr. When she and Elias approached the cockpit, they found Kohr sprawled in the co-pilot’s chair, a very indignant look on his face.

Myri glanced over at the boy. “Oh, come on, Tredo. Did you really think I was going to let you fly?”

Kohr crossed his arms over his chest and sank lower in the seat. “Elias let me fly Ulin’s ship.”

“For maybe five minutes,” Elias interjected.

Myri swept a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear and readjusted her cap. “This ship is my baby, Tredo. And there’s only one other person I’d let fly her.”

“Who?” Kohr asked, waving one hand in the air.

Myri leaned back in her seat and grinned as the ship’s engines came to life. “My big sister.”

Kohr groaned.

Arden leaned toward Elias. “There’s two of them?” she whispered.

“Oh yeah,” he answered. “You’ll get to meet her pretty soon, too.”

“That’s right,” Myri said from her chair. “Syal is coming to Vjun with us.”

As Nar Shaddaa gave way to the darkness of space, Arden shook her head and wondered if she would ever be able to keep up with the Jedi and all their allies.

Anakin stood over Ben’s shoulder, watching the stars rush past. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there. Five minutes, maybe ten. Neither Ben nor Valin spared him so much as a glance. There hadn’t been a whole lot of eye contact since they’d boarded the Daybreak.

Anakin finally broke the silence. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Ben exchanged a look with Valin. “Sure,” he said. As he pulled himself out of his chair, he placed a hand on Valin’s shoulder. “Take over for me?”

“You got it, boss.”

Anakin led Ben back to the dejarik board where they’d had their first conversation as grandfather and grandson. He sat down on one side and waited for Ben to take the other. Ben was noticeably slow to do so.

“I take it this is going to be more than a minute.”

Anakin shrugged. “Probably.”

Ben propped one arm up on the table. “Okay. What’s on your mind?”

Once again, Anakin found himself awkwardly silent in the presence of his grandson. He knew what he wanted to say, but as it was in his many debriefings before the Jedi Council, he could already feel the right words slipping away.

“Do the Jedi in your time… do they have a lot of visions?”

Ben looked him square in the eyes. “Are you having a lot of visions?”

Straight to the point, as always.

“I’ve had them before. This one is new.” His thoughts returned to that day, not so long ago, when he’d sat in the shade of Yoda’s meditation chamber and listened as the old master advised him to let go of Padmé. To let go of the child – the children – growing inside her.

Ben was not Yoda, and he was not Obi-Wan or Mace Windu or any of the old Jedi. He was Anakin’s flesh and blood. He would understand, wouldn’t he? He would know what to do.

“What do you see?” Ben asked.

Anakin closed his eyes. “I dream of a cliff. I can’t see anything around it, but I know I’m standing on the edge. And I can hear water, like there’s an ocean below me. Padmé is there, somewhere in the darkness, calling to me. She’s… she’s dying, and I can’t go to her. And then I fall.”

Anakin opened his eyes to find Ben staring at him.

“Is that all?”

Anakin’s gaze fell to the tabletop. “I think I’m jumping.”

“Off the cliff?”

Anakin nodded.

“And you’re worried it will happen for real.”

“Yes.”

Ben let out a long breath. “And the visions you said you had before. Did they all come true?”

“More or less. With my mother it was almost exactly as I saw it in my dreams. She was tortured by the Tuskens, and she ended up dying in my arms.”

“Did you…?” Ben stopped and swallowed before continuing. “Did you see anyone else? In your other visions?”

Anakin rubbed his left thumb against the edge of the table. “Up until a few days ago, I kept dreaming of Padmé’s death.” He looked up at Ben, and he couldn’t help the cynicism that crept into his tone. “And she is dead, isn’t she?”

Ben’s response was barely above a whisper. “Yes, she is.”

“So is this my death I’m seeing? Is it my turn now?” Anakin stood up and paced across the room. He wanted to hurl something, rail against the Force for not being clearer, or perhaps for being too clear in its message.

Ben ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know. Do you honestly expect me to know? Like I’m the authority on visions? My dad’s the one who had them all the time, not me.”

Anakin stopped pacing. He’d done it again, letting his emotions take over. How was he ever going to deal with the dark side if he kept running to other people to solve his problems?

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I just thought maybe you’d have some insight that I missed.”

“You want my insight? Okay.” Ben turned in his chair to face Anakin. “I believe in visions, and I believe in the Force; but I also believe in making choices. If you don’t want to go flying off some cliff, then don’t jump.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple, Anakin. Maybe the Force has some grand plan for us, but we still have to choose. Don’t try to tell me this is the only way things could have turned out. Because if it is, then I’d say to hell with the Force.”

Anakin was dumbstruck for a moment as he stared unblinking at his grandson. “I’m glad Obi-Wan isn’t around to hear you say that.”

Ben scowled. “I don’t mean it literally. That’s my point: we all have our choices to make, and the future is not set in stone. The Force guides us, but it doesn’t control us. We’re supposed to control it.”

Anakin felt himself deflate, as though all his anger and frustration had lost their power. Instead of feeling less burdened, he felt emptier, less sure of himself. Everything Ben said to him made sense. So why did he feel worse off?

The sound of footsteps distracted him for a moment. He turned to see Valin entering the room.

“We’re coming up on the others,” he said, looking at Ben. “You want to do the honors, or should I?”

Ben stood up and glanced at Anakin. “We’re finished here. I’ll be right there.”

Allana Djo liked to think of herself as a reasonable, patient human being who others saw as wise beyond her years. Sure, she was prone to occasional bouts of adolescent moodiness, but at her core she was a calm, intelligent, introverted girl.

At least that was what she liked to think.

It didn’t help that for the last six months she’d been dragged all over the galaxy and handed off from one family friend to the next, all so that her cousin – her supposed master – could go gallivanting across Sith territory. Not to mention the latest injustice: being dropped in a hole for three days with Myri Antilles, who could be so unrelentingly cheerful at times that it made Allana want to gag. If she stopped to think about it, she knew it wasn’t Myri she was upset with, nor the fact that she’d had to spend three days listening to the woman’s wisecracks. It was Ben. It was always Ben.

Allana stared at the wall opposite her, where Geridan Ames and Tredo Kohr were playing a children’s card game. “Ha!” Kohr shouted, slapping his hand down onto one of the cards before Geridan could even react.

“Too slow,” Kohr added, sweeping a pile of cards toward him while Geridan shot Allana a sullen look.

Allana shook her head, trying not to laugh at her friend’s misery. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of Jedi Knight? What kind of reflexes are those?”

Geridan placed one hand over his heart and frowned. While he wasn’t looking, Kohr started to steal cards from his friend’s quickly-dwindling pile.

“Hey!” Geridan turned and snatched his cards away, sending several flying through the air. “Cheater!”

Kohr grinned and laid the rest of his cards on the deck. “I quit. This isn’t even a challenge.”

Allana rolled her eyes as the boys started to argue over the game and Force knew what else. Boys could be so ridiculous sometimes.

A soft clicking caught her attention, and Allana looked up to see Elias walking down the corridor. “Get your stuff together, kids. We’re coming up on the Daybreak.”

Allana and the others moved out of the way as Elias stepped in front of the docking ring controls and began to tap in a combination. There was a hiss and clicking sound against the hull. Elias’s hand hovered over a lever just above the keypad. The ship’s comm unit buzzed.

“Okay, they’re extending their docking tube.” Myri’s voice was calm. “Lock it in on my command.”

Allana felt the faintest tremor as the docking tube – she assumed – made contact with the ring.

“Lock.”

Elias pulled down on the lever, and there was a clunk and an even louder hiss as the tube locked and pressurized. A moment later, someone was knocking on their door.

Myri and Arden Veiss joined the rest of them at the docking ring as Elias pressed another button. The door slid open, and standing on the other side was Valin Horn, the stranger from the Heibic datatape, and Allana’s master, Ben Skywalker.

Her cousin quirked one eyebrow and smirked. “Didn’t I tell you I’d be fine?”

Elias shook his head before reaching out to embrace his friend, while Geridan and Kohr started talking over one another, each one claiming he’d known all along that Ben would make it out okay. Myri and Arden stood back, the former taking it all in with a wistful smile, the latter staring at the reunion a bit vacantly.

As much as Allana tried to focus her attention on Ben and how he’d abandoned her six months ago to roam the stars, she couldn’t keep herself from glancing every few seconds at the stranger from Heibic, the one who had claimed to be Anakin Skywalker.

She probably should have been deeply offended by the fact that this man was posing as her long-dead great-grandfather, but she wasn’t really. A little bothered by the fact that Ben had given him a lightsaber and let him tag along for the past few days? Yes. But she wasn’t offended. If anything, she was curious. She hadn’t met many legitimately crazy people in her fifteen years.

“You all remember our guest,” Ben said, interrupting Allana’s thoughts with a gesture toward the imposter. “This is…” He hesitated before dropping his hand. “You know what? I’m tired of introducing everyone. You can introduce yourselves. Myri? Could I talk to you for a minute?”

Myri pressed through the tightly packed group and gave Valin a friendly pat on the shoulder as she edged past him. She and Ben retreated to the Daybreak.

The crazy stranger was forgotten for a moment as Allana stared at the back of Ben’s head. Six months and he hadn’t said a single word to her. He hadn’t tried to reach out mentally – hell, he hadn’t even looked at her. Allana’s fists curled around the fabric of her robe while she struggled to maintain her composure.

It took a moment before she realized the man from Heibic was staring openly at her. While Elias, Geridan and the others gave Valin a proper greeting and listened to him talk about his children back on Tatooine, Allana took a few steps toward the stranger and held out her hand.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Allana.”

The man looked somewhat more comfortable than he had on the security tape, but not by much. In fact, he looked a little sick. He reached out to take Allana’s hand; he wore a leather glove over his right hand, and his grip was strong.

“Hello,” he said quietly. Allana liked his voice. He didn’t sound like a crazy person.

He released her hand, but kept his extended for a microsecond longer than she did. She stared at him expectantly, waiting for the rest of his introduction.

“Oh,” he said, realizing he’d left something out. “I’m Anakin.”

Allana raised both eyebrows. “Anakin what?”

He shrugged. “Just Anakin.”

So was he telling the truth, or was he crazy and smart enough to try to hide it? Allana sighed. “That was my uncle’s name. And my great-grandfather’s. It’s a good name, I guess.”

“My mom seemed to think so.”

She saw the faint smile on his lips and realized he was trying to be funny. Strange, that she was already warming up to him. It usually took longer for that to happen.

Or maybe I just like crazy people.

Allana smiled back, and she felt something slip through the mental barriers she’d sensed around Anakin, something bright and happy and – she was a little embarrassed to admit it – kind of beautiful. It reminded her of her mother.

“Well,” she said, “it’s nice to finally meet you, Anakin.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, too.” His smile grew until it lit up his whole face. “Allana.”

“What’s this about, Ben?”

Ben motioned for Myri to join him inside the cockpit of the Daybreak, and once she was inside, he closed the door. Then he mentally counted to five before turning to face her.

“I told you to leave her with Ulin.”

Myri looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance before folding her arms across her chest and widening her stance. “You try telling a Solo what to do. We’re lucky she didn’t chase after you when you left in the first place. She doesn’t need a babysitter, Ben. She needs her master.”

Ben shook his head and looked out at the stars. “Not you, too.”

“Good, so I’m not the only one who’s telling you so.”

“She’s my apprentice. Not yours, not Tahiri’s, and not anyone else’s. I want what’s best for her. Why is that so hard for everyone to understand?”

Myri’s eyes widened for a second, a look that suggested he was losing it. “What’s got you all fired up?”

Ben replayed the last part of the conversation in his head, groaned, then fell into the pilot’s seat. He covered his eyes with his hand and started to massage his forehead. “Nothing. I don’t know, I’m just tired.” He peeked at her from between two fingers. It seemed ridiculous that he should be mad at Myri Antilles, of all people. She was one of the most optimistic people he knew, and besides, non-Jedi allies were increasingly hard to come by. Alienating her now would accomplish nothing.

“I’m sorry, Myri.”

She gave him the same look she’d been giving him since he was a teenager, the one that told him exactly how juvenile his behavior was. “Apology accepted, kid. But don’t ever talk to me like I’m one of your students. I’m too old to put up with that stuff.”

Ben laughed. “Why does everyone over thirty think they’re old?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “What are you talking about? I’m not old.”

Ben opened his mouth, thought better of it, and snapped it shut again. The Daybreak’s comm unit beeped with an incoming message, and Ben swiveled in his chair to check it out. “Looks like Syal is almost here. Tell her to open herself up to our frequency. She can stay on her ship while we go over the plan.”

Myri winked and offered him a mock salute. “Aye aye, Captain.”

Ben opened the cockpit door and headed back to Myri’s ship to gather the others. He found them where he’d left them, huddled around the mouth of the docking tube. The first thing he noticed was that Anakin had separated himself ever so slightly from the rest of the group; the second thing he noticed was that Allana was hovering close by, watching him.

Or perhaps more accurately, watching over him. Ben sensed something strangely protective in her body language. Before he could reflect on it further, Elias turned to him and nodded.

“Ready?” he asked.

Ben looked around at the others. “Yeah. Let’s use the Daybreak’s main hold. This ship’s getting a bit cramped.”

He avoided Allana’s gaze as he spun on one heel and went back through the tunnel. He knew she was mad at him, and she had every right to be. But that didn’t change what he had to do.

One by one, the Jedi and their allies filtered into the common area and found seats where they could. Ben pulled the holodisc of Château Malreaux from his pocket and inserted it in the room’s holoprojector. An image of the estate materialized at the center of the room.

“By now I think you all know the situation and what’s at stake. At this moment, there are nearly two dozen children being held on Vjun in this building.” Ben nodded toward the hologram. “Château Malreaux. About half of these children were kidnapped from the Denon enclave; the others were most likely picked up for their higher than average Force sensitivity. They are all part of some experiment being conducted by Doctor Gabriel Mezzon.”

Elias made a very unhappy sound. “Mezzon’s alive?”

Ben hesitated. Apparently Myri hadn’t told them everything about the Vjun project. Ben tried not to react to the pain he sensed in his friend. Instead, he focused his eyes on the hologram. “Yes, he’s alive.”

Elias shook his head, more upset than Ben had seen him in years. “But we blew that whole place sky high! There’s no way he survived!”

Ben was about to respond when Myri stepped forward. “I know it’s hard to accept, Elias, but the data from Ossus confirms it. Official reports, video logs… make no mistake, he is alive.” She glanced over at Ben. “However, there’s no evidence to suggest that any of his research survived the explosion on Yalena. You boys may not have killed him, but you definitely destroyed his work.”

Elias rubbed a hand over his face and stared at the floor, defeated. It wasn’t exactly the mood Ben had been hoping to set before they even got to the actual rescue plan. He wished he could say he had been as affected by the news of the doctor’s survival, but it didn’t really surprise him. The Sith had a talent for surviving against impossible odds. It wasn’t the first time.

“We can handle Mezzon,” Ben said firmly. “I’m not worried about that. What I am worried about is getting into this place and finding the kids. Now…” He rotated the hologram and enlarged an area at the base of the estate, where its rocky foundation met a body of water. “Château Malreaux butts up against this harbor. The coast is riddled with caves and tunnels. Most of them have collapsed, but Myri says there are a few that probably still lead directly into the cellars of the château. This place was once a very heavily fortified mansion, and I’m sure the Sith have made use of at least some of the old security systems. Those tunnels are our best hope of getting in without casualties.

“Myri and Syal will provide cover from the air during our escape. Arden, you’re with Myri in her ship. Syal?”

The ship’s comm crackled for a few seconds before a new voice filtered through. “I’m here, Ben.”

“I want you to fly the Daybreak. We can leave your ship here and come back for it later.”

“Oh, no worries; it’s just a rental.” Ben didn’t miss the sarcasm in her voice.

“Right. So that leaves the rest of you to come with me. Once we’re inside, Elias and Valin will find the kids while we cover for them.” He raised his hands in the air and glanced around the room. “Any questions so far?”

Kohr and Ames exchanged a somewhat bewildered look while the others shook their heads slowly. In the farthest corner of the room, Anakin’s face was unreadable as he continued to stare at the hologram.

“Perfect,” Ben said. “Now, let’s go over specifics.”

Didn’t think I’d be going back there anytime soon.

Anakin studied the hologram, looking for anything else that might have changed in the seventy years since Count Dooku made Château Malreaux his personal fortress. It was hard to tell from here; the image wasn’t as detailed as it could have been. Anakin had the feeling there would be an awful lot of improvisation once they hit the ground. He also had the feeling that Ben was perfectly aware of that fact.

His grandson was going over the layout of the building with the others, but Anakin could still see so much of it in his mind’s eye. It had only been what, six months since he’d been there? Give or take. As for the collapsed tunnels, well… he wondered if Ben knew who to thank for that little inconvenience.

His memory of Vjun was not an unpleasant one. He could still recall the powerful surge he’d experienced upon entering its atmosphere, the sound of the Force singing to him rather than whispering. Everything had been clearer, fresher, more potent. He remembered feeling invincible.

The thought of it made him sick to his stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was guilt over experiencing the dark side so freely, or anticipation at the thought of returning to such a Force-rich world.

Maybe it would be better for everyone if he sat this one out.

No. They needed him, whether they realized it or not.

He half-listened as Ben and Myri finished going over the plan with the others. The deep sense of foreboding he’d experienced on Tatooine – though it hadn’t really gone away – was growing stronger. Anakin closed his eyes and tried to trace the feelings to something tangible, some element of the future that might be causing it. But of course, the Force was reluctant to reveal anything other than the cliff and the water and Padmé’s desperate screams.

I won’t jump, I won’t kill myself, just tell me what I’m supposed to do…

When he opened his eyes, the room had started to clear. Ben had turned the holoproj off and was steering Allana in the direction of his private quarters. Curious, Anakin waited until they had moved out of sight to follow them. He ducked into the corridor and stilled his breathing, straining to hear the conversation between his two grandchildren.

“What?”

“Allana, keep your voice down. Just listen to me for a second—”

“You think you can dump me on your friends for six months and then expect me to stay out of this?”

“You’ve gone six months; I don’t think a few more hours will kill you.”

“But it’s not just a few more hours! You never take me on missions! What’s the point of naming me your apprentice when you don’t even want me around?”

“I’m not doing this for me, I’m doing it for you. I can’t keep you safe down there. You’re better off with Syal.”

“Being useless!”

“I told you, I need you to man the guns. There’s going to be a lot of enemy fire, and Syal will need help.”

“Isn’t she an ace starfighter pilot?”

“Aren’t you a Solo and a Djo and a Skywalker?”

There was silence for a moment as Allana seemed to lose her momentum.

“I’ve made my decision, Allana. You’re staying on the Daybreak, and that’s final.”

Anakin straightened up as Allana stormed out of Ben’s room, not even giving him so much as a glance. A very tired-looking Ben followed a few seconds after, but he stopped upon seeing Anakin in the corridor.

“You heard all that, I suppose?”

Anakin nodded. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. She’ll be fine in a day or two.” Ben leaned against the wall opposite Anakin and gave him a weak grin. “Teenagers are hell.”

Anakin shook his head. “I know I was.”

“I believe it.” Ben’s grin faltered for a moment as he looked down the corridor. “I don’t know how we got to this point,” he said with a sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“You know. She acts like I’m the enemy. Like I’m trying to be her father, and that’s not what I’m doing.”

Anakin thought of Obi-Wan, of all the times they had bickered about training and missions and whether Anakin was ready to tackle a new challenge on his own. He thought of Obi-Wan alone in his hut on Tatooine and of black body armor and fire. His throat constricted as he tried to push the images away.

“She loves you,” he said. “Don’t let her forget that you love her.”

Ben stared at him, a wry expression spreading slowly across his face. “Part of me wants to ignore you. Maybe that’s my own rebellious streak showing through, huh?” He shook his head. “But you’re right. And it’s what I’ve been trying to do, but…”

“There’s always that feeling,” Anakin murmured, “that you’re not doing enough.”

Ben leaned his head back against the wall. “That you’ll never do enough.” He looked at Anakin through half-closed lids. “You’ve turned me into a moping, pathetic fool, Gramps.”

Anakin was acutely aware that this might be the last moment of normalcy before everything went to hell. He tried to smile. “You’re welcome.”

The team of Jedi touched down a little more than a kilometer from Château Malreaux, landing in a deep depression that appeared to have been formed by whatever had caused the collapse of the surrounding caves. Myri and Ulin hadn’t had ample time to gather all the details of the Vjun countryside, so finding the right tunnel into the mansion was going to take a lot of guesswork.

Ben waited for the others to disembark before he finally stepped off of the Daybreak. The air was cold, and there was a light drizzle that stung his skin like a thousand tiny needles. Acid rain. Perfect.

If he was completely honest with himself – and he was trying to be – it wasn’t the rain or the cold or the gloominess of the planet that was putting him on edge. The whole planet was saturated in the dark side; every so often he caught a hint of something in the air, something that felt like madness, like everything he associated with the Sith. Myri said the people of this planet had attempted to enhance their Force-strong population with genetic experimentation, ultimately resulting in a near-global insanity. Sounded like the perfect place for Doctor Mezzon’s research.

They had gone a few meters when Ben turned back to face the Daybreak. He pulled out his comlink. “If they spot you, find somewhere else to lay low. We’ll call when we’re ready.”

Through the cockpit window, he saw Syal give him a nod and a wave. “Will do. May the Force be with you.”

Ben tucked his comlink away and looked out at the ridge in the distance. “There used to be an entrance up there.”

Anakin appeared at his side. His face was pale. “That whole network collapsed the last time I was here. We’ll have to look for one of the smaller side tunnels. I know there’s still a way in.”

Ben frowned and lowered his voice. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because I can feel it up there, on the southern slope.”

Startled, Ben examined the hillside, probing it with the Force, and sure enough, there was a void on the southern side that ran deep underground.

“You’re right.” He couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.

A smirk, and a laugh that was a bit too confident. “Of course I am.”

Ben studied his grandfather for half a second, wondering how deeply the Vjun atmosphere was affecting him. Anakin had mentioned coming here not too long ago on a mission. His description of the Force’s potency here… well, Ben hadn’t been able to figure out whether Anakin was afraid of the planet or a little in love with it. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, bringing him along.

Then again, he had found the tunnel. Ben took a deep breath.

Time to see where it led.

Lord Dominius watched the vidscreen carefully, waiting for something worthwhile to happen.

“I have never understood your fascination with the doctor’s work,” he said slowly, eyes never leaving the human child on the screen.

Darth Festus’s voice came from behind him. “The man is an artist. I admire his creativity.”

“Don’t you mean butchery?” The second voice belonged to Darth Ferrus, and Dominius sensed that this was an ongoing argument between the brothers.

He liked it when they weren’t getting along.

Festus responded to his brother’s taunt with an even tone. “I mean creativity, my dear brother.” The smaller twin sidled up next to Dominius. “You must appreciate what we’re doing here, Lord Dominius. Mezzon’s methods may be unorthodox, but if he can find new ways to enhance our connection to the Force, isn’t it worth it?”

Dominius frowned. As distasteful as he found the Vjun project, it had been condoned by Lord Krayt; and when one looked past the use of children in the experiments, Festus’s argument actually made some degree of sense.

The human child – a female – was sitting upright on the operating table, watching something offscreen. Her face was unusually thin for one of her age and species.

Dominius turned his head just enough to catch Festus’s eye. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t get any personal satisfaction out of watching the doctor work?”

Festus smirked and looked away. Behind them, Ferrus cleared his throat.

“He’d be content to stay here forever if it meant watching this sort of thing all day.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Festus replied, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Such a strange boy.

The door to the chamber slid open, and Darth Misra stepped inside.

“My lord,” she said. “The Master wishes to speak with you.”

Dominius turned away from the vidscreen as Doctor Mezzon came into view, blocking the child on the table. He gave Festus and Ferrus a stiff nod before exiting the room.

Once he was outside, Misra led him back to the private conference room he’d requested upon his arrival. Darth Raze was off in one corner of the room, going through a series of martial arts techniques unique to Iridonia. As soon as he saw Dominius, he bowed and left the room. Misra shut the door behind her, leaving Dominius completely alone.

The Sith Lord crossed the room and activated the holoprojector at the far end. A slightly less than life-size image of his master materialized above him. Dominius kneeled before Darth Krayt.

“Everything is in place, just as you ordered.”

The Sith Master stared down at him from behind his vonduun crab mask. “You have done well, Lord Dominius. If things proceed as planned, your reward will be great.”

Dominius bowed his head. “I won’t fail you, my master.”

“I have great faith in you, my apprentice. When the Jedi arrive, make sure you give them a proper welcome.”

It was after they reached their fifth dead end that Ben realized someone was following them. Up until now, their tail had taken care to be silent, but a single loose stone tumbling into the underground lake had let him know they were not alone.

The Jedi were walking sideways along a narrow bank, moving slowly to avoid slipping several meters down into the still, dark waters. With little more than a few glowworms to light their way, they had to rely on handheld lights and their enhanced Force sensitivity to map a path through the tunnels. They had just turned away from the dead end when Ben felt the tremor of a pebble rolling into the water.

A second later, Anakin’s lightsaber sprang to life, illuminating the darkness. Standing millimeters from the blade was Allana.

“It’s just me,” she whispered, hands raised defensively.

Ben released an angry breath. “Emperor’s bones, Allana! What are you doing here?”

Anakin lowered his lightsaber, and Ben saw him take a step toward Allana. His cousin stared up at him with big, concerned eyes.

“I couldn’t let you go without me.”

Ben thought about telling her he was safer without her here, but he held his tongue. He also thought about demanding an explanation as to how she’d given Syal the slip; he decided that could wait, too.

“Stay in the middle,” he warned. “And when the fighting starts, don’t take on anyone by yourself.”

Allana glanced at the others before giving Ben a hurt look. “Okay. But I just wanted to tell you, I think I found the way in.”

Ben exchanged a look with Valin, then Elias. “What?”

“Back here,” Allana said, gesturing toward a crack in the rock that they’d already passed. She hugged the wall, moving back in the direction of the crack. “Take a look.”

Anakin, who was closest to Allana, followed her and held his saber up as he peered through the crack. “She’s right. There’s a short tunnel and a door on the other side of this wall.” Without waiting for the go ahead, he started to cut away at the rock with his blade.

“Careful!” Valin said, looking instinctively toward the ceiling. “This whole cavern could collapse.”

“It survived a concussion grenade,” Anakin quipped, intent on his work.

“How would you—”

“Valin,” Ben said, cutting off the older man’s protest. “It’s fine.”

Anakin stepped aside as debris fell from his cuts. He used the Force to shove the rest of the loose rock into the tunnel he’d revealed. The hole was just big enough for a grown man to squeeze through. He crawled into the hole. Allana followed, and then the others. Ben was the last to go through.

Allana was right; it was a door on the other side. On the rock next to it was a control pad with numbered keys. Ben went to the head of the group and inspected the keypad, waving Kohr over as he did so. “Do your thing, genius.”

Kohr plugged a cable into the side of the keypad and attached the other end to his datapad. He gently removed the cover and whistled at what he saw. “This model is ancient. They don’t even use this type of wiring anymore. It could take me a while.”

Anakin grunted something unintelligible. Ben glanced at him over his shoulder. “Keep at it, Kohr.”

He patted the boy on the shoulder before moving to the back of the group where Anakin was standing silently. He stopped at his grandfather’s side. “Something you’d like to share with the group?”

Anakin turned away from the others and bent his head toward Ben’s. “Does he realize that door is on hinges?”

“What?” Ben frowned up at him. “You mean…?”

“The keypad’s not connected. It’s a dummy.”

“You’re sure? It looks like a regular sliding door and security system to me.”

Anakin smirked. “I’m positive. The hinges are on the inside. Don’t worry, it probably fooled the Sith, too. I’m sure they thought their cellar was secure.” He shook his head and laughed. “It’s amazing what a few decades will do to your perspective.”

Ben tilted his head and studied his grandfather. “Right, I keep forgetting – you’re ancient, too.” He ignored the look of mock hurt on Anakin’s face and returned to the door. “Hold on a second, Kohr.” Ben leaned his body against the door and pushed. The door creaked open, though not too loudly, and a layer of dust rained down from the frame.

On the other side of the door was a room that might once have been beautiful, but was now only a filthy, broken mess. Furniture was overturned, some of it in pieces. The carvings in the wall had been burned by blaster fire and… were those lightsaber burns? Ben crossed the room to another open archway and looked around the corner.

Two Sith soldiers were standing guard, chatting idly. Ben ducked back into the room and motioned for the others to join him. He felt the Sith students start to move; perhaps they had sensed something was wrong.

Here we go.

The soldiers turned the corner, and Ben saw their eyes go wide a split second before Kohr and Ames knocked them upside the head with the hilts of their sabers. The two men crumpled to the floor.

“Nice work,” Ben said, stepping over the soldiers. Kohr and Ames bumped elbows together before bending over to retrieve their enemies’ weapons. Anakin and Allana followed after, with Elias and Valin bringing up the rear.

“I thought there’d be more down here,” Elias whispered, looking around.

Valin shrugged. “Maybe we should count ourselves—”

“Jedi! The Jedi are here!”

Ben pulled out his blaster – set for stun – and shot the Sith soldier who had been yelling into his comlink. The man tumbled down a flight of stone stairs at the end of the hallway and landed awkwardly at the bottom.

“—lucky,” Valin finished. He sighed, drawing his lightsaber as he did so. “Oh, never mind.”

Somewhere above, a siren started to go off, its high-pitched wail piercing straight to Ben’s core. He winced and covered his ears for a moment before looking back at the others.

“Let’s go!” he shouted over the alarm. Several lightsabers ignited, filling the gloomy darkness with turquoise, emerald, and silver light. He took one last moment to meet first Allana’s eyes, then Anakin’s; finally, Ben faced the stone staircase and plunged forward.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

It didn’t take long for Ben to decide that this might have been a bad idea after all.

As the team of Jedi ran up the stone staircase, they found themselves entering a low-ceilinged corridor. Sith soldiers spilled into the hallway from a door at the far end; at their head was a pair of Lessers, red lightsabers ignited. They hardly seemed surprised to find a group of Jedi in their midst. The pair at the front – a Twi’lek and a Chagrian – sneered; the Twi’lek pulled out a comlink and spoke into it.

“The Jedi are in the basement, my lord. Engaging now.”

Ben looked back at the others as he deflected blaster bolts. “We’ve got to get to a computer terminal and find where they’re keeping the kids.”

The two Lessers ran forward to meet them; Ben ducked, and as he did so, Elias sent a wave of Force energy crashing into them. They weren’t strong enough or smart enough to block it, and went tumbling backward into the path of the soldiers. While the Lessers struggled frantically to disentangle themselves from the soldiers, Ben and Elias ripped their lightsabers from their hands. Kohr and Ames followed suit, going after the soldiers’ blasters. A few of them were able to hold onto their weapons, but by the time they got over the initial assault, Ben had already sliced through the barrels, rendering the blasters useless.

The Lessers tried to get out of the way, but it was too late; Kohr and Ames skewered them with matching green blades. The soldiers in the back reached for their vibroblades; a second later they were on the ground, holes smoking in their chests. Ben and Elias deactivated their sabers and looked back at the others.

Ben frowned. “Where’s Allana? And Anakin?”

Valin was busy destroying the blasters that Kohr and Ames had taken from the soldiers. He looked up at Ben. “Through that door, looking for a computer.” He gestured toward an open door halfway between them.

Anakin and Allana emerged from the room a moment later. “Nothing,” Anakin said, eyes narrowed. “I sensed a strong presence above us, one floor up by the feel of him.”

Ben exhaled. “It’s only going to get worse the farther up we go.”

Kohr and Ames kicked the bodies of the Lessers; Ben felt something cold hit his stomach as he noticed the hunger in their eyes.

“That’s enough,” Ben said roughly, pushing the boys forward down the corridor.

“Ben?” It was Elias’s voice, coming from a room near the end of the passage. “I found something.”

He knew from the tone of Elias’s voice that the children weren’t in the room, but that didn’t stop Ben from imagining the worst. He’d seen enough of Mezzon’s atrocities to fill his nightmares for the rest of his life, and try as he might, nothing – not even the Force – could push out the images that flashed before his mind’s eye. He stepped over the bodies of the soldiers and entered the room.

It was empty, save for a dozen or so sets of shackles bolted into the walls and floors.

Ben took a deep breath. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

Elias and the others followed him as he left the room and jogged toward the door from which the Sith had come. On the other side was another staircase, this one leading up to the main level of the mansion. The walls were made of a smoother stone than the ones in the cellar, and they seemed to be in better condition. He could hear someone giving orders; the words were unintelligible, but they echoed down the stairwell. Ben activated his lightsaber.

Should have stayed on Tatooine, he thought wearily, trying to fight the heaviness in the air. The Force was so thick here. It was like coming down off a mountain peak and being overwhelmed by the richness of the oxygen, only instead of relishing it, Ben felt as though he were being slowly suffocated.

He paused for a moment before mounting the bottom step.

“Just one step at a time, kid.”

Ben bowed his head to hide the smile that had crept onto his lips. Uncle Han had always had a way of telling Ben just what he needed to hear – even if the advice was coming from a decade in the past.

Ben inhaled for several seconds and brought his lightsaber up in front of him. Then he began to sprint up the steps, aware that the others were close on his heels. As he emerged from the stairwell at full speed, he realized they were just outside the mansion’s great entry hall. An enormous stone arch – painted in the crimson and cream of the House of Malreaux and marred by fire – formed the doorway into the hall, and on the other side a half dozen soldiers stood in close formation, blasters raised.

The Jedi burst into the entry hall, and every lightsaber came up to deflect blaster bolts. Three of the soldiers went down immediately, and the other three started to back away, looking for cover. Ben spun his weapon in front of him and glanced behind him, searching the chamber for another way out.

Anakin beat him to it.

“Over here!” His grandfather’s voice rose above the hum of the sabers. He was pointing toward a narrow corridor, one that looked as though it led further into the interior of the mansion. Ben and Elias covered the others as they fell back into the side corridor. Two more soldiers fell lifeless to the floor, and the last one disappeared through an archway across the room, calling for backup. Safe for the moment, Ben followed his team into the corridor.

He had just left the main hall when a laser bolt went sizzling past Ben’s ear. He looked over his shoulder to see a pair of soldiers defending a door several meters behind him. Kohr and Ames reached the soldiers first, dispatching them with minimal effort. Ben expected the door to be locked, but Kohr opened it without any trouble. Ben and his team entered the room quickly and shut the door.

The room was filled with computer terminals, vidscreens, holoprojectors, and every other device necessary to monitor and control the various security systems in the mansion. There was only one thing it was missing: someone to do the monitoring and controlling.

“Looks like this was their control room,” Kohr said. He stepped toward the center of the room and ran his fingers over the surface of a long table made from what looked like obsidian. Ben noticed a computer terminal at the far end.

Valin’s eyes roamed the room for a minute as he lowered his lightsaber. “Then why aren’t they in here?”

“A mansion this size?” Ben cut in. “This isn’t the only control room. They’d have a backup somewhere, probably on a higher floor. But that doesn’t mean we can’t find something useful here.” He rounded the far corner of the table and waved Kohr over. “Check it.”

As Kohr made his way over to the computer terminal, Ben hurried back to the door, opening it halfway and motioning for Anakin to join him. Together, they watched the hallway while the others huddled around Kohr. Every few seconds, Ben would glance over at Kohr, waiting for news.

It only took a moment for the boy to get past the computer’s security, and once he had, a green circle appeared on the transparent vertical display in front of him. He tapped his finger on the upper right quadrant, and it expanded to show countless streams of data. Kohr quickly scanned the image on the screen. “According to this, there are thirteen younglings left. Nine humans, two Quarren, a Togruta, and an Iktotchi.”

“Only thirteen?” Ben’s insides felt as though they’d twisted in a knot. “Where are they?”

Kohr looked up at him, worry creeping into his eyes. “Fifth level, east wing.”

Valin put a hand on Elias’s shoulder before meeting Ben’s gaze. “We’re on it.”

Ben felt a tremor – no, more than that – in the Force. Another squad of soldiers had just entered the main hall. “Hurry,” he said, activating his saber as he listened for the sound of footsteps. Next to him, Anakin did the same. “We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”

“Wait!” Kohr held up a stopping hand. “There’s a hidden passage here in the schematics. Right after the second door down.”

“Which way?”

“To the right.”

Ben opened the door all the way and leaned out to look. “There’s no door. Just a tapestry.” His eyes narrowed. “You think… behind the tapestry?”

Kohr nodded. “It should take them right up to the fourth floor, just one below the kids.”

Elias moved out into the corridor, brushing past Ben. He motioned for Valin to follow. “Wish us luck,” he said to Ben.

Ben gave him a wry grin. “No such thing,” he answered, clapping Elias on the back. Valin and Elias hurried down the hall, pulled back the tapestry, and disappeared from sight.

“Right,” Ben said, turning to look at the rest of his team. “Time to do some distracting.”

Arden watched the steady fall of rain from inside Myri Antilles’s ship, waiting for the signal. It was the most maddening thing she’d ever done, just waiting in the cramped cockpit, listening to Myri hum the same tune over and over again. It wasn’t the older woman’s fault; Arden had been known to sing a song or two while waiting for the captain and his team to return from a job. But that was back when the captain was a captain, not Ben-wanted-in-almost-every-known-sector-Skywalker. Back when their jobs involved things like theft and smuggling, not the heroic rescue of Jedi children from the heart of Sith space.

Arden chewed the edge of a thumbnail as she began to pace back and forth behind Myri’s chair. There wasn’t much room for pacing, but she managed to do it, her gaze still locked on the rain and on the outline of the Daybreak just a few kilometers away.

Myri stopped humming and perked up, tilting her cap back on her head. She swiveled toward the radar and let out a breath that sounded more like a hiss. “That’s not good,” she murmured, flipping a few switches near the radar.

“What is it?” Arden asked, leaning over Myri’s shoulder. A large mass of light was moving toward the spot where the Daybreak was hidden.

“Wanna know how this ship got the name Last Call?” Myri dimmed the cabin lights and pressed a few more buttons. Beneath them, the engines started to hum.

Arden backed up from the chair and wondered if she should mention that she hadn’t known what the ship was called until this very moment. “I’m guessing I’m about to find out,” she muttered.

Myri tossed a wink and a grin over her shoulder so casually, she might have been reporting the weather. “Get on those guns, girly. Things are about to get crazy.”

The great entryway looked almost exactly as it had the last time Anakin saw it, minus the shattered and scorched remains of dozens of combat and assassin droids. He thought of Obi-Wan, of how they had charged into the mansion without backup and taken down its security forces without suffering a single injury. He remembered how easy it had been, how powerful he felt as he sliced through the droids. Like nothing could stop him.

Anakin jerked his arms to the side and spun, taking down a soldier who had dared to come too close. He and the other Jedi had returned to the main hall and assumed a defensive position outside the side corridor, but as more soldiers filled the hall, they found themselves being pulled away from each other. Allana, Kohr, and Ames were closest to the corridor, trying to keep the soldiers from following after Elias and Valin. Anakin and Ben had moved toward the center of the room, picking off soldiers who strayed too far from the squad.

As another Sith trooper crumpled at his feet, Anakin felt overwhelming relief. Gone was the foreboding that had plagued him since his arrival in this time. Gone was the fear and the hesitance. He felt strong again, like his old self, only better. Every movement of the enemy was so clear, so precisely mapped out in the Force. It didn’t matter if they had to fight a hundred soldiers. Force-sensitive or not, they were no match for him. A whisper of thought swirled around his brain, reminding him that this was what he was born to do. Even though he knew that the Chosen One was meant to bring balance – not war – he couldn’t help feeling at home right here, a surging vehicle of destruction.

Anakin and Ben were back-to-back now, turning in a slow circle as they continued to carve a deadly path through the soldiers.

“Getting tired?” Ben called over his shoulder.

Anakin flung out his free hand and sent two soldiers flying through the air. “I’m just warming up. You?”

Ben muttered something under his breath and deflected a blaster bolt straight into a soldier’s chest. The man’s armor absorbed it, but he was knocked off his feet. Ben let out a frustrated grunt and nodded at Anakin. The two men switched positions without missing a beat.

“You know,” Ben said casually as he cleaved through the end of a blaster and elbowed the owner hard in the temple. “I really wish these guys would take turns.”

Anakin smirked. “Guess we oughtta teach them some manners.” He whipped around to block several laser blasts that were aimed at Ben.

His grandson eyed the would-be assassins, now lying dead on the floor. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” A warning spiked across Anakin’s senses, and he jerked his head around, looking for the source. Ben followed suit, and they both turned in time to see a giant stone come crashing down from the ceiling. Allana, Kohr, and Ames threw themselves out of its way, and then they were obscured by a massive cloud of dust and debris.

A new sound echoed across the suddenly quiet chamber: the deep, ominous hum of multiple lightsabers activating. At first Anakin could only see a few red blades, but as the dust settled, he saw six Sith standing across the room, flanked by another dozen soldiers in black armor. By the feel of her, the blonde woman at the center of the group was the most powerful, although the muscular, dark-haired boy next to her wasn’t too far off. Anakin felt Ben tense up for a moment.

“Kill them all!” the blonde woman shouted. She surged forward, the others fanning out behind her. Anakin glanced over his shoulder, still unable to see where Allana and her companions had gone. Half of the newly arrived troopers were sprinting toward the rubble from the stone; the blonde Sith and two lightsaber-wielding Twi’leks were with them.

Anakin tore his gaze away from the leader of the Sith and turned to meet the dark-haired boy, who had already outrun his backup. Anakin and Ben stepped in unison, raising their sabers to deflect the boy-Sith’s attack. He was as powerful as Anakin had guessed, but that hardly meant he was a match for two Skywalkers. Ben battered the boy’s blade with his own while Anakin slipped past his defenses and cut him across the abdomen. The only thing that prevented Anakin from finishing the job was the arrival of two other Sith.

These two, a dark-skinned human male and a humanoid of a species Anakin didn’t recognize, were substantially weaker than the boy, but they were quick. Their clumsy lightsaber work, in combination with the Sith soldiers who were firing from a few meters away, was just enough to keep both Anakin and Ben busy.

There was another rumble, and the entire chamber quaked as a second stone dislodged from the ceiling. Across the room, Anakin saw the blonde Sith draw her hand in a broad, sweeping motion. Ames shoved Allana out of the way, and several of the soldiers went down, too, as the stone crashed to the floor. The blonde Sith leapt over the debris and went after Allana and Ames. Kohr was nowhere to be seen.

A blaster bolt singed Anakin’s tunic; he pivoted just enough to deflect a second bolt, which went through his attacker’s forehead.

“Allana!” Ames shouted over the noise. “Get out of here!”

Anakin spun around in time to see Allana duck into one of the other corridors, one that led back into the interior of the mansion. He moved to go after her, heedless of his own safety as he turned into the line of fire of seven blasters. He batted their shots aside as though they were mere nuisances; nothing mattered if he couldn’t get to his granddaughter. He carved a path through the soldiers, unaware of whether they lived or died as they fell under his blade.

He was halfway to the corridor when another dozen soldiers came pouring out of it. Anakin leapt out of the way of a dozen streams of blaster fire, rolling to the side. He took in the situation, scanning the room quickly as he ducked and weaved through enemy fire. Ben was still fending off one of the Sith and several troopers on the opposite side of the room, and Ames was locked in battle with the blonde Sith, struggling to hold her off.

Anakin muttered a few Huttese obscenities and glanced one last time at the hallway Allana had disappeared into before vaulting across the room to help Ames.

Allana ran into the side hallway and took the second door on the left, a plain but solid wood door that – like so many others in the great house – swung open on hinges. She sensed at least a dozen people running down the hall in her direction, so she stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind her.

Instead of a room, she found herself facing the bottom of a narrow, spiraling staircase. It was dimly lit; she wondered if the power source was faulty or if the place had just taken too much abuse over the centuries. Allana took a few steps up the staircase, pausing for a moment to listen for the soldiers on the other side of the door. She didn’t sense anyone above her, so she kept climbing until she came to another wooden door.

As she pushed open the door, she noticed that it was much more ornate, with roses carved into it. In some places she could see remnants of the same crimson and cream paint that decorated the entry hall. The room before her was large and empty, with an elaborate crystal chandelier dominating the ceiling. From its relative lack of grandeur, Allana determined that the stairwell she’d ascended was most likely a servant’s passage and that this imposing room might have been a dining hall or a ballroom at one time.

Allana took another step into the room, and as she did so, she noticed that the chandelier was the only part of the room that was intact. All along the walls, paintings had been pockmarked by blaster fire, and the delicate wooden roses in the molding had received similar treatment. There were even bloodstains in the thick carpet.

Why hadn’t she listened to Ben? Why hadn’t she stayed on the ship with Syal? Now Kohr was bleeding out on the floor and Geridan was fighting that big Sith woman on his own. Allana reached up with both hands and grasped the end of her braid, running her fingers over its dusty length. She should go back. She couldn’t leave her friends to die.

A soft thumping sound caught her attention, and Allana realized she was not alone. She stared across the room at a pair of grand doors that had opened, revealing a solitary figure.

He was a pale, dark-haired human, and he tapped the hilt of his lightsaber against his thigh as he approached her. Like the steady tick of a chrono, he continued tapping, continued walking toward her. Behind her, the door to the servants’ passage slammed shut. Allana grabbed her lightsaber off her belt and activated it. As the newcomer stepped into the light, recognition hit her.

She remembered Ben telling her about this one and his brother, twin Jedi younglings kidnapped years ago and corrupted by the Sith. She’d been forced to memorize the holos. Her opponent had to be Darth Festus, the shorter of the two. He was small but wiry, with a manic look about him that chilled her to her core. His eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, irises edged in flame. As she raised her lightsaber in front of her, he drew up short, staring at her sideways, almost lazily.

“If it isn’t the little princess,” Darth Festus said, tilting his head to examine her. He might have been handsome but for the sick smile creeping onto his face. “Hello, Allana. It’s been a long time.”

Allana swallowed hard and readjusted her grip on her lightsaber. How did he know her? Had they met when she was younger? She had the bizarre mental image of the Sith Lord bouncing a redheaded child on his knee. She banished it quickly.

“Stay back,” she warned, trying not to wince at how young and feeble she sounded. The Sith Lord’s smile grew wider and, if possible, more disturbed.

“Now, Princess, is that any way to treat an old friend of the family?”

Allana shook her head, holding her lightsaber up a little higher. “Not my friend.”

He stopped a few meters away from her and hung his head as though hurt. And then he chuckled. He actually chuckled. She was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of a Sith Lord chuckling when he charged forward, igniting his lightsaber and diving at her in one smooth, lightning-fast motion. Allana dropped her guard and jumped out of the way. Before she could fully recover, he was upon her, beating her backward with his blood red saber.

“Would you like to hear a story?” Festus swung hard, and Allana parried. “It’s about a little Jedi boy and a little Jedi princess.” His voice took on an eerie sing-song quality as he flew at her with a series of frenzied strikes, each one coming closer and closer to her neck. “They had all kinds of fun together.”

Allana stumbled a little as she tried to put distance between herself and the Sith. He was there in an instant, catching her lightsaber blade with his in a quick motion that knocked her weapon from her hands. He wrapped his right arm around her, saber still in hand, and held her close.

“But one day,” Festus continued, “the Jedi left the boy to die, and the princess went on living a happy little life with her master, the worst traitor of them all.”

Allana tried to shake her head. “You’re crazy,” she said, out of breath but still fighting his grip on her.

There was a vicious gleam in his eyes as he smiled and said, “Didn’t your cousin ever tell you it’s the crazy ones you have to look out for?”

Festus smashed his fist across the side of her head, sending her to the ground. The world slanted around her as she crawled away from her attacker, grappling for her lightsaber. A strong hand grabbed her by the collar and lifted her into the air. The next she knew, she’d been pinned up against a wall, legs dangling. Festus pressed his body against hers and raised his saber so she could see the hazy glow of its red blade.

“You shouldn’t fight me so much,” he hissed. Her skin crawled as she felt his lips graze her neck. For a moment she thought he might sink his teeth into her flesh. Allana closed her eyes tight and silently recited one of the lullabies her mother used to sing to her, an old spell of the Singing Mountain Clan. The Force pulsed through her like blood.

Festus tightened his hand around her throat. Allana’s eyelids fluttered open, and her vision began to return. She slammed her knee into the Sith’s groin, and he dropped her with a furious growl. Allana tumbled to the floor and gasped for breath as she tried to get up and run. She had lost her lightsaber somewhere… Ben would kill her if she didn’t find it…

She had just gotten to her feet when she felt something smash into her, bringing her down by the knees. She crashed to the floor again, stretching her hands out to protect her face. Dazed, she looked over her shoulder to see Festus, his arms wrapped around her legs. He was crawling on top of her, his eyes like fire.

“Ben!” she screamed, trying in a panic to kick the Sith Lord off of her. “Ben! Geridan!”

Festus was on her back, pinning her arms down. He grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her head off the floor. “Shut up!” he shrieked in her ear. “Shut up! Shh… no one’s coming, Allana, now hold still.”

Festus activated his lightsaber again, holding it a hair’s breadth from her neck. He shoved her face into the grimy rug and dug his knee into her back. All she could see out of the corner of her eye was the red-white core of his saber.

Help me, please…

Allana held as still as she could and squeezed her eyes shut. She hoped the Sith would be quick.

The weight on her back lifted suddenly, and Allana heard a crash across the room. She looked up and saw a tall figure standing over her, right arm extended. The Force was ferocious and alive around him, sparking like electricity, like a lightning storm in her mind’s eye. It burned so intensely, she thought it might consume her. She stared hard at the person in the center of this maelstrom, waiting for her vision to come back into focus.

And then, hazy recognition.

“Anakin?”

Her rescuer didn’t look at her, though, and she followed his gaze to the opposite side of the room where Festus was suspended midair, clawing desperately at his throat. Anakin’s thumb and forefinger pinched the air, the distance between them closing. As Festus’s strangled cries grew softer, Allana realized what was happening.

“Don’t!” She pulled herself onto her hands and knees and sucked in several short breaths. “Not like this!”

Anakin didn’t seem to hear her, however, and for the first time Allana really felt the oozing weight of Vjun, the dark heaviness that choked the atmosphere. She wondered why it had come on her so suddenly, and looking up at Anakin, she knew she already had her answer.

“Please, stop!” Tears slid down her cheeks as she reached out to Anakin. Why was she crying? Shouldn’t she be glad that he was killing the Sith, that he was forcing the life out of him? “Anakin, please!”

He jerked his head back as if breaking out of a trance. Festus was dumped unceremoniously to the ground where he lay for the moment, a moaning, pathetic heap. Anakin lowered his hand and looked down at Allana. She breathed a sigh of relief as he scooped her up in his arms and retrieved her lightsaber.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her head resting against his chest.

“No, don’t fall asleep,” Anakin said, nudging her head with his shoulder. “You have to stay awake. Come on, we’ll find Ben.”

She struggled to keep her eyes open as he carried her from hallway to hallway, searching for the others. He was so strong; she knew she could just go to sleep in his arms and be safe. She remembered feeling like this a long time ago, with her father.

Anakin made a disgruntled noise. “You should have let me do it.”

Allana closed her eyes and smiled faintly. “No, I shouldn’t have.” She squeezed her arms around his neck. “You’ll thank me later.”

She lost track of how long they wandered the hallways of the great house, looking for another way back to the others. Part of her didn’t want to find them. Part of her wanted to stay.

“Here,” Anakin said, lowering her until her feet touched the ground. “You need to walk now, okay?”

The room seemed to spin for a moment as Allana moaned and pressed a hand to her forehead. It was pounding like crazy. “Where’s my lightsaber?”

He slapped it against her palm. “Can you walk?”

“Sure,” she answered, blinking her eyes several times to regain focus.

“Good, because things are about to get nasty.”

Allana snapped her head up to look at him, ignoring the pain. “What?”

Anakin ignited his saber. “The others are just up ahead, and I think they need help.”

She frowned at him. “You know, when you rescue someone, you’re supposed to lead them away from danger.”

Anakin grinned and put a hand on her shoulder, drawing her close. “Stay right behind me, okay?”

Allana felt something tighten in her chest. “Okay.” She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Anakin?”

“Yes?”

She looked up into his eyes; in them she saw fear and sorrow, but also hope and love, and for some strange reason, that gave her strength.

“I truly am glad to have met you.”

He smiled, then leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Me, too, Allana. Truly.”

Ben wiped the sweat from his brow as he watched the surviving Sith soldiers flee from the great entry hall. There was no use going after them. As soon as Elias and Valin rescued the children, they had to be able to make a quick exit. And now that archway that led back to the caves had collapsed, the quickest exit was right through the giant front doors of Château Malreaux.

Ben crossed the room to get to Ames, stepping over bodies as he did so. The boy was kneeling next to a lifeless-looking Kohr. Ames had torn a strip of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it around his friend’s head. The cloth was already soaked with blood.

Ben knelt beside Ames and tore off some cloth from the bottom of his own shirt. From here he could see that Kohr was still breathing. “Here,” he said gently, moving Ames’s hands so he could dress the wound. As he tied off the makeshift bandage, he glanced sidelong at Ames. “How are you holding up?”

Ames’s eyes wandered over to the headless body of the blonde Sith, Darth Misra. “I’m okay,” he muttered.

Ben raised one eyebrow at him. “You sure?”

Ames shook his head. “She was going to kill me. I was as good as dead.”

“You fought a Sith Lord, Ames.” Ben gripped his shoulder and gave him a reassuring shake. “Not many Jedi have done that and lived to tell about it.”

This time Ames nodded, but Ben could see he was still a bit shell-shocked. Watching one person decapitate another could have that effect.

Speaking of Anakin, where was he anyway? Ben had lost track of him during the battle, not long after Allana disappeared.

Allana.

Ben tightened his grip on Ames’s shoulder. “What happened to Allana?”

Ames seemed to snap out of his stupor a little. “They were closing in on us… I told her to run.” He looked toward one of the interior corridors, but said nothing else.

Ben was about to respond when he felt a familiar presence approaching. He touched Kohr lightly on the forehead, then stood and unclipped his lightsaber from his belt.

“Ames…”

“I feel it, too.” The boy looked down at Kohr, uncertain. “Should we move him?”

Ben eyed the front entrance and wondered how much longer Elias and Valin would be. “Move him closer to the front doors. We’ll have to cover him until the others get here.”

Ames carried Kohr across the room while Ben activated his saber and watched for signs of the Sith. He should have known Darth Dominius would be here. Darth Misra was, after all, one of his lieutenants and a devoted servant. Wherever she was, her master was never far. He wondered if Dominius would be upset about her death. Falleen were so slow to anger, and despite being a Sith Lord, he was unusually level-headed.

The soldiers appeared first, row after row of them, at least as many as before, if not more. They filed into the room, weapons raised, forming a half-circle around the Jedi. Ben was acutely aware of the danger he was in. Kohr was close to death, and Ames was too worried about Kohr and Allana and nearly being killed by Misra to focus on the moment. Ben was alone.

What was it his dad used to say? “Not alone, Ben. Never alone.”

That’s right, Dad. A Jedi who has the Force is never alone.

But some more back-up would sure be nice.

The rows of soldiers parted to reveal a trio of Sith Lords. On the left was Darth Ferrus, who Anakin had cut across the abdomen in the earlier battle. Someone had patched the boy up, but he was hunched over a little and breathing funny. For a brief moment, Ben pitied him.

The Sith on the right he recognized as Darth Raze, one of the more hot-headed members of Krayt’s order. He looked mad as hell and eager to murder someone.

“Where is he?” Raze shouted.

“Patience, Lord Raze.” Darth Dominius stood in the middle, and even though he was addressing Raze, his eyes were on Ben. The Falleen’s skin was its usual cool green color, and a devious smile was perched on his lips.

“I am tired of waiting!” Raze passed his lightsaber from one hand to the other. “I want the man who gave me this.” He held up his right hand, which was made of a shiny metal, and pointed it at Ben. “I know he is here, Jedi! Where is he?”

Ben looked away from Dominius and shook his head. “It’s your mansion. You tell me where he is.”

“I’m right here.”

Even though he hadn’t shouted, Anakin’s voice filled the hall. Ben turned toward the sound of it and saw Anakin standing behind him, Allana at his side.

Ben expected Raze to utter some more threats; instead, the Sith Lord sprang forward, disregarding Dominius’s command to stand his ground. The soldiers looked around as if unsure whether they should engage. Dominius held up a hand to stay the troops. He seemed almost amused by Raze’s lack of restraint.

Anakin pushed Allana behind him as Raze vaulted across the room, snarling and grunting unintelligibly. Ben made a move in their direction, but a barrage of blasterfire made him reconsider. While Ben was repelling fire, Darth Ferrus appeared at his elbow, moving much faster than his wound should have allowed. Ben ducked as the boy sliced his lightsaber horizontally through the space where his head had been. He brought his weapon up to block and caught sight of Dominius standing back with about fifteen soldiers. The Sith Lord was smiling and shaking his head slowly. As though this were all just a game to him.

Across the room, Anakin and Raze were locked in battle. Ben caught a brief glimpse of it every few seconds, but from what he could see, Allana was blocking the soldiers while Anakin had Raze backed up against a wall. There was no doubt that his grandfather was winning.

“Ben!”

Ben sidestepped another thrust from Ferrus, and Ames appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Ferrus by the arm and knocking his saber from his grasp. Ben could feel the anger coming off of Ames in waves. They had known each other as younglings, Ames and Ferrus. This was personal.

“Nice work, kid!” Ben deflected several blaster bolts back at their owners. A few of them went down, but too many remained standing. Ben grunted his displeasure and was about to say something to Ames when he noticed the kid wasn’t even listening. He was too busy punching Ferrus repeatedly in the head. The Sith fell down hard, unconscious. Ames raised his lightsaber and aimed the blade at his enemy’s heart.

“Ames!”

Ben threw out his hands and used the Force to shove Ferrus out of the way; Ames’s lightsaber went through the stone floor. Before Ames could protest, a blaster bolt ripped through his shoulder. Ben lunged forward to catch the boy; lasers singed his shirt as the two of them went down.

“I’ve got you, kid,” he whispered, blindly raising his lightsaber in front of him.

“And I’ve got you,” another voice replied. Ben looked up, past the blade of his own saber, into the eyes of Darth Dominius, who was standing just meters away, weapon ignited. His soldiers had formed a circle around them. The Falleen Sith gestured with his lightsaber for Ben to stand. Ben laid Ames down on the stone floor and slowly rose to his feet. He could still hear the sound of blasters as Anakin and Allana continued to fight their way through the soldiers. He hoped they wouldn’t try anything idiotic, like trying to save his life. It would really tick him off if they wasted the precious time he was buying for them here.

Ben took a deep breath and met the Sith’s eerie yellow stare. “Dominius.”

The Falleen nodded curtly. “Skywalker. By now you realize your pitiful attempt at a rescue has failed.”

Ben tried to reach out for Elias and Valin, but it was too chaotic. The Force fed him nothing but destruction. He glanced around the circle, gauging the strength of the soldiers. “You haven’t killed me yet.”

“I soon shall. Have you finally decided to stop running from me?”

Ben gestured wide with his free hand. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Dominius licked his lips and brandished his lightsaber. “Indeed. I’ve been looking forward to this day.”

Ben cocked his head to one side and grinned. “You want me? You got me.” He raised his saber. “Let’s make this quick.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

Darth Dominius had to give credit where credit was due – young Skywalker was a force to be reckoned with, the most powerful Jedi he’d ever encountered. Perhaps the most powerful Jedi of his time. But he was going to lose this battle.

The young Jedi flipped through the air, soaring high above the reach of Dominius’s blade. He landed with almost feline grace, parrying each blow with ease. How confident he must be in this moment, thinking he had a chance at victory. Always so focused on the smaller battles; never truly seeing the greater scope of things. If he did not lack the capacity for it, Dominius might have pitied the boy.

Ben Skywalker could have made a great Sith, given the proper encouragement.

“How many of your friends have fallen today, Skywalker? I didn’t think you could afford such a loss.”

Skywalker blocked a low strike, then swung at Dominius’s midsection. “I haven’t lost anyone yet.”

Dominius smiled as he repelled his enemy’s attack, forcing him to take several steps backward. “You think I speak of death? How amusing.”

The Jedi’s face was impassive, but Dominius had lived long enough to know when a human was upset. He had struck a nerve. The boy fought back with barely controlled ferocity, and Dominius saw his eyes dart over to his companions, the ones who were fighting Darth Raze.

Skywalker flashed a smug look. “Your man over there isn’t doing so good.”

Before Dominius could respond, he heard Raze howl in pain. A quick glance confirmed that the unknown Jedi had just stabbed Raze through the stomach. Too bad. What he lacked in refinement, Lord Raze had always made up for in enthusiasm. His sister would miss him, surely.

“First Misra, now Raze.” Skywalker swung his lightsaber hard; as the two blades locked, the Jedi pressed in close, trying to use his weight as leverage. “That must make you a little mad.”

Dominius held his ground. The loss of Lady Misra was the more regrettable of the two, but he wouldn’t waste time feeling sorry. Not when he was this close to killing Ben Skywalker.

“Not at all,” he answered, letting go of his lightsaber with one hand and raising it in the air. “But I will be upset if your friend over there reaches us before I am through with you.” He made a fist and pulled it back as though yanking on a rope. Across the room, Skywalker’s apprentice cried out in surprise and fell to the floor with a violent thud. Her tall companion abandoned his attempts to reach Skywalker, running to help her instead.

Skywalker smiled. “You won’t be able to keep him away for long. He’s very persistent.”

Dominius waved a hand, and the soldiers who had been standing in a circle around them dispersed. He waved again, and they simultaneously moved toward the anonymous Jedi.

“I am a patient man, Skywalker, but even my patience has its limits. Let’s stop toying with one another and get down to business, shall we?”

He saw the ligaments in Skywalker’s hands flex as he tightened his grip on his lightsaber. The smug smile was gone from his face; in its place was the grim expression Dominius knew so well. The real Ben Skywalker, ready to fight at last.

“Have it your way, Darth.”

Dominius embraced the carnage around him, letting each cry of anguish and each expression of rage feed into him. His skin grew warm and began to take on a faint orange hue.

He was going to enjoy this.

The Sith starfighters came at them from the south, flying low and in groups of three. The Last Call was in the air even before the Daybreak, cutting a path between it and the incoming fighters. Arden had seen a few of these ships before, during their escape from Ossus. She’d barely had time to process their appearance at the time, but now she could see they shared the familiar spherical cockpit that the TIE series had been famous for. The similarities ended there. Instead of wings, these fighters had a half ring engine that rotated around the cockpit as it flew. Laser cannons were mounted to each end of the ring, creating a deadly double helix as they fired on Myri’s ship. Arden swiveled her seat and lined up the closest fighter in her crosshairs.

“Get ’em!” Myri yelled from the cockpit. Arden squeezed the trigger and watched as her lasers shot past the fighter. Growling in frustration, she readjusted and fired again, hitting one of his wingmates. The next trio of fighters came within range, and this time Arden was able to get two out of three before they raced by.

“Nice!” Myri called out. “Now hold on to something!”

Arden was about to ask why when Myri sent the Last Call into a barrel roll, firing continuously at the swarm of Sith fighters. Arden watched in awe for a few seconds as several fighters exploded; then she shook her head and joined in the fray. She was getting better with every wave, but there were still so many.

Myri swung the ship around to chase after the fighters that had slipped past them. As she did, laser blasts crashed against their shields.

“Dammit!” Myri dove, but two of the Sith were right on their tail, staying slightly below them where Arden’s cannons couldn’t reach. Myri accelerated, and Arden felt her body being pushed forward against the controls. The computer next to her showed the Sith matching their speed.

The two fighters exploded suddenly, and Arden heard a familiar engine roar overhead.

“You all right, sis?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Myri said through gritted teeth as she yanked back on the controls. “Forgot how fast these suckers are.”

“Three more at point oh six.”

“Got it. Now go take cover.”

“You just worry about yourself.”

The Last Call and the Daybreak flew alongside one another for a few more seconds before splitting off in opposite directions. They circled around, attempting to herd the Sith into one area. Arden tried to do a rough count of the enemy, but they were moving too fast.

“We can’t keep this up much longer,” she yelled over the noise from her cannons.

Myri’s voice was the most serious she’d ever heard it. “We don’t have a choice.”

Anakin lifted Allana to her feet with one hand while deflecting blaster fire with the other. Out of the corner of one eye he saw another squad of soldiers running toward them.

“Over here!” He pulled her toward one of the massive stones the Sith had torn from the ceiling; they ducked behind it as the soldiers opened fire.

Allana held a hand against her ribs and winced.

“You all right?” he asked as he steadied her against him.

“I’ll be fine.” She pressed her back to the boulder, activating her lightsaber with shaking hands. “We need to get to Ben.”

Anakin peered out from behind their stone shelter, head whipping back to avoid being hit by another round of blaster fire. For that brief half-second, he saw Ben locked in battle with the Falleen Sith and more than a dozen soldiers blocking their escape route. “We need to secure the entrance, or none of us are getting out of here.”

His danger sense flared, and he swung his saber in a high arc over his head, shearing off the end of a blaster that had been aimed at Allana. Anakin glared up at the soldier who had crawled on top of the boulder. He wrenched the man down from his perch, using the Force to hurl him against the wall behind them.

“Where do they keep coming from?” he said with a growl. He almost missed fighting battle droids. He glanced over at Allana and noted the tension on her face. “Hey, we’re gonna make it, okay?”

She pressed her lips in a thin line and nodded.

“Ben, are you there? Ben?”

Anakin barely heard the voice of Valin Horn coming from Allana’s comlink, but he immediately sensed the man’s urgency. Anakin nodded at Allana, positioning himself in front of her while she reached for her comlink.

“Ben’s a little busy at the moment, Master Horn.”

“Allana?” Valin’s voice was strained. “What’s your position?”

“Main entrance. We’re under pretty heavy fire here.”

He sensed the soldiers converging on them, moving to either corner them or flush them out. Anakin and Allana only had a few more seconds of safety.

“We have the kids… almost there… to the Daybreak…”

“Master Horn, you’re breaking up! Master Horn!”

Allana tapped the comlink against her thigh before hooking it back on her belt. Anakin heard something else above the din of the battle: the distinct whine of an engine. He grabbed Allana by the elbow and gestured in the direction of the main entrance.

“Time to go,” he said. “Stay with me, no matter what.”

She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

Anakin took the brunt of the assault as he leaped out from behind the boulder directly into the soldiers’ line of fire. Allana stayed behind him as they ran for the massive entry doors. He weaved his lightsaber through the air, picking off blaster bolts with preternatural precision. The remaining soldiers were concentrating all their efforts on the two of them, trying to keep Anakin away from Ben.

Ben.

He was on the complete opposite side of the room from the entry, still dueling with the remaining Sith Lord. His grandson appeared to be holding his own quite well, but he was still being led away from the others. Or was Ben leading the fight away from their exit on purpose?

There was a commotion from one of the hallways adjacent to the main entry, and Anakin breathed a sigh of relief as two more lightsabers – one silver and one blue – lit up the gloom. Valin and Elias herded about a dozen younglings between them, running at full speed for the doors. Elias stretched out a hand, and the doors swung open just as the Daybreak touched down outside. Anakin continued to deflect enemy fire as he and Allana made it to the entry. Valin ran past them with the children, leading them up the ship’s open ramp.

“Don’t stop!” Elias yelled as he broke away from the group and dropped to his knees beside two prone figures. Anakin recognized the boys as Allana’s friends, Kohr and Ames.

“I’ll cover you!” he called out to Elias, batting away laser blasts as he moved in front of the other Jedi. Elias scooped Kohr into his arms, careful not to disturb his injured head, while Allana took hold of Ames by the torso and began to drag him slowly.

Enough of this.

Anakin deactivated his saber, threw his hands out, and pushed. The entire line of Sith soldiers were knocked onto their backs, some of them losing their weapons in the process. Anakin ran to Allana and took Ames from her, hauling the boy over his shoulder.

“Come on!”

As they carried the unconscious Jedi to the Daybreak, Anakin sensed more starships approaching. Too many to fend off from the ground. And Ben was still inside. Great.

Blaster fire scorched past him, spilling out of the open entry doors as the downed soldiers regained their wits. Anakin thumbed his saber on and stood in front of the ship’s ramp.

“Go!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Take off!”

Behind him he felt Allana’s panic, felt her dragging Ames the rest of the way up the ramp, anxious to return to Anakin’s side.

Stay, he called out to her.

He surged forward through the thick cloud of ozone. There were still a handful of soldiers left, and these ones had stacked bodies and debris to shield themselves as they fired on him. Ben was still on the far side of the room, dodging stone projectiles while he danced just beyond his opponent’s reach.

And then it happened.

A cold brilliance opened up over the entry hall, a rush of energy that coursed through him like an icy river. He trembled under its power, its magnificence. It was a presence – a single presence that seemed to take all of Vjun within itself before reflecting it back tenfold. Anakin was vaguely aware that every person in the room had stopped what they were doing and were now looking for the source of this power.

Anakin spotted him across the chamber, standing calmly at the top of a wide staircase. The coldness vanished, shut down as quickly as it had opened up. But the man was still standing there – if he could even be called a man. His armor was unlike anything Anakin had ever seen, like he’d scooped out the insides of a giant crustacean and fashioned its shell into a full body casing. Only the lower half of his jaw was visible under the jagged outline of his mask. Something ugly reared up inside Anakin as he stared at the man. He knew who this was. There was only one person it could be, only one person who could command the undivided attention of every eye in the room, including Ben and his Falleen adversary.

This was the Master of the Sith, the one responsible for Leia’s death.

Darth Krayt.

All around him, the battle resumed. Anakin looked over his shoulder, finding Allana through the smoke and debris. She turned away from the Daybreak, ready to run after him; but he raised a hand toward her, holding her back.

“Wait!” She tried in vain to break his invisible grip on her. He pushed her back onto the ramp as it began to close. “Anakin! You said no matter what!”

He held her in place until the ramp had closed and the Daybreak shot off into the air. Without further hesitation, Anakin turned and charged back into the chaos, fighting his way toward the Sith Master.

Ben had just raised his lightsaber to block another of his opponent’s attacks when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye: an angry blur of dark robes and cerulean light, hurtling toward the staircase.

Anakin.

Panic burrowed into his chest with unrelenting force. “No, don’t!” Ben screamed as he twisted out from under Dominius’s blade. “Anakin!”

His grandfather either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him. He was already sprinting up the steps, taking them three at a time, flying up to meet the Sith Master.

“ANAKIN!”

Darth Krayt retreated into the mansion, leading Anakin away from the entry hall.

Dominius’s saber swiped the air barely a centimeter from Ben’s throat; he blocked clumsily, still trying to crane his neck to see which direction Anakin had gone.

“Your friend will not survive,” Dominius said, emphasizing the point with a thrust toward Ben’s middle.

Ben parried, trying to tamp down the despair that had gripped him so suddenly and ferociously. He had no clever retort, no brave words, no argument with which to counter the Sith. He had nothing. Anakin was going to die.

Or worse.

“Do you have them?”

Myri’s voice was strained, although Arden marveled that she could even focus enough to talk right now. Another squadron of Sith fighters swarmed around them as they tried to cover the Daybreak.

“All except Ben and the new guy.” Syal’s response wasn’t quite as stressed as her sister’s, but then she was a career starfighter pilot. “These blasted ships just keep coming.”

Arden kept her fingers wrapped tight around the controls, blowing up anything that crossed into her sights. There was an uneasy couple of seconds before Myri said, “What do we do?”

Static, and then a new voice. “We can’t leave them!” Allana sounded close to tears as she yelled into the comm.

“We’re not,” Syal broke in, but there was hesitation in her voice.

A pit opened up in Arden’s stomach as she pictured the captain in that damn mansion, fighting off the Sith by himself. Even before she’d known he was Ben Skywalker, he’d always taken crazy risks that somehow worked out perfectly, no matter the danger. Maybe it should have been obvious that those impossible feats were being performed by a Jedi Knight. At the time she’d just thought he was slightly insane. Now that she knew who he was, all those risks made a lot more sense, even if they were still scary as hell. What was his plan now? Did he even have one?

Her eyes fell on the grand entrance of Château Malreaux, smoke pouring from its open doors as they circled around. And suddenly she felt a little insane herself.

“Myri!”

“Yeah?” The older woman cocked her head to the side, one eye on Arden and one eye on the sky.

“I have an idea.” She explained her plan quickly.

Myri raised one eyebrow, smiling as she did so. “I like the way you think.” She raised her sister on the comm and relayed the plan to her. Arden wondered what it said about the Antilles sisters’ sanity that they both insisted it was the most amazing idea they’d ever heard.

The Last Call twisted and turned to avoid fire while Myri switched her comm to another frequency. “Ben! We’re coming for you, so get ready!”

If he’d had time to process it, Ben might have been furious that Anakin had left him on his own to fend off a fully-trained Sith Lord as well as half a dozen fanatical, blaster-wielding soldiers. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – he couldn’t focus on that now. He was losing stamina fast, and his only saving grace was that the soldiers were hesitant to fire on him for fear of hitting their master.

Darth Dominius seemed completely assured of his victory. His normally cool green skin was flushed deep red, and the smug smirk on his face had split wide open into a demonic leer. Ben tried not to think of Anakin facing Krayt alone. He tried not to imagine Sith starfighters surrounding the Daybreak and blasting it from the sky. He tried not to remember the children and the horrors they must have experienced. The dark side was so strong here. So, so strong.

“Ben!”

The voice on the comlink brought his mind snapping back to attention.

“We’re coming for you, so get ready!”

Dominius laughed. An ugly, guttural thing that might have shaken Ben to his core if he hadn’t just heard the barely contained excitement in Myri’s voice.

“Fools!” Dominius spat out, still grinning wickedly. “Let them come!”

They continued to exchange blows, moving up the grand staircase step by step, neither one relenting despite their fatigue. As he locked blades once more with the Sith Lord, Ben reached out with his senses, pushing beyond the boundaries of the great house. And he smiled.

“Looks like my ride’s here.”

Laser blasts ripped through the ceiling, tearing the roof right off of the entry hall. A deafening roar vibrated throughout the château as the Last Call flew overhead, cannons firing. Through the gaping hole in the roof, Ben saw a pursuing Sith fighter get caught in the debris and explode in a fiery ball.

Their fight abandoned, Ben ducked and held a barrier of energy over him, deflecting the hot, twisted shards of metal and chunks of stone that rained down from above. Then he sprung into the air and backflipped to the top of the staircase.

Murky light filtered through the demolished roof, and Ben realized the sun was setting. He quickly assessed the damage, looking for the clearest path through the wreckage. A metal support beam jutted out into the open air, just beyond the fire that had begun to rage.

“I’m not done with you yet!” Dominius screamed as he vaulted through the air, blood red saber still ablaze.

Ben summoned the Force to buoy his aching limbs, and he jumped straight at the broken beam. Dominius followed, barely pausing to touch the ground before giving chase.

For those few seconds that Ben was airborne, with his enemy in close pursuit and nowhere else to go, he thought he might have finally pushed himself too far. Once he landed on that beam, he’d only have a moment before Dominius caught up to him and ran him through with his lightsaber.

Then the most beautiful vision opened up before him, and his heart soared.

The Daybreak came to a screaming halt above the roof, ramp already lowered. As soon as Ben felt his boots hit the beam, he pushed off again, launching himself toward the waiting starship. He hit the ramp dead center and rolled the rest of the way into the ship. He staggered to his feet, and the last thing he saw before the hatch closed and the Daybreak rocketed away was the furious visage of Darth Dominius, perched like a malevolent bird atop the broken metal beam.

Ben hooked his lightsaber to his belt and stumbled down the curved corridor to the cockpit. Force, his legs felt like they were mired in sludge. He hadn’t been in a fight that intense in years. He opened the cockpit door and fell into the empty co-pilot’s chair.

Syal looked over at him with a huge smile – which promptly disappeared when she actually saw him.

“Stars, Ben, you look like hell!”

Ben winced, leaning forward over the controls. “Nice to see you, too.” He examined the radar for a second as he took control of the main cannons. A capital ship had just entered the atmosphere and was headed straight for them. “Guess we know where all these fighters are coming from.”

“They’re keeping us boxed in pretty good,” Syal admitted. “We won’t last long once that Star Destroyer gets here.”

“Then we’d better make a break for it.”

Syal threw the ship into a tight turn to avoid another swarm of fighters, flinging Ben back in his chair. He sensed a rolling wave of fear and realized belatedly that it was coming from the cargo hold full of traumatized children.

“What about your new friend?” Syal’s tone was uncharacteristically hesitant.

Ben gripped the controls tighter as he remembered Anakin charging relentlessly toward Darth Krayt. Heart hammering in his chest, jaw clenched tight, he shook his head. “We have a mission to complete.” When Syal didn’t respond right away, Ben looked at her sidelong and let out a shaky breath.

“There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

Even with all of that impressive armor, the Master of the Sith was quicker than Anakin had expected. He fled down a darkened corridor, never appearing to rush even as he managed to stay several steps ahead of his Jedi pursuer. The ugly heat in Anakin’s chest spread out to his limbs, racing along every nerve like small, uncontrolled fires, screaming fight me!

By the time Darth Krayt reached the end of the long hallway he was hardly more than a shadow, nearly indistinguishable from his surroundings. Anakin brought his lightsaber up in front of him, illuminating both the ruined corridor and his enemy. Awash in cerulean light, the Sith looked over his shoulder before pushing open a set of double doors. On the other side, Anakin saw a once-lavish bedroom and an open balcony with tattered curtains flapping in the wind. The Sith Lord jumped onto the railing and shot up like a rocket, disappearing from view. Anakin barreled into the room seconds later and came to a crashing halt against the railing. He craned his neck to see where Krayt had gone.

Three levels up on an identical balcony, the Sith leaned over the edge, watching. Anakin gauged the distance, determining whether he could make it in one Force-fueled leap. He decided not to chance it, steeling himself instead for a couple of shorter jumps. He launched himself up two stories, pausing for a moment on the balcony below Krayt. His eyes met his enemy’s, shadowy behind the mask. Krayt retreated into the mansion; with a growl, Anakin jumped again, swinging himself over the railing and activating his lightsaber in one fluid motion.

The Sith was on him before his feet touched the ground, blood-red saber thrumming dangerously close to his throat; but Anakin was ready for him. He dropped down, sliding across the scorched marble floor as he swung his blade at Krayt’s legs. The Sith avoided it with a surprisingly nimble leap. Anakin shot to his feet and spun around, bringing his weapon to bear. Darth Krayt did the same, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and he flexed the arm that held his saber. That small action only served to fan the flame of Anakin’s anger. Was he not taking this seriously?

You will, you damn monster.

Anakin lunged at his opponent, striking high and then low in quick succession, never pulling back far enough to leave an opening. Their blades battered each other; Anakin could feel the raw strength behind each of Krayt’s blows. And through it all, the man hadn’t once opened his mouth.

Anakin cut his weapon in a horizontal line, trying to bisect the Sith at the waist; but Krayt twisted and blocked hard. The Jedi tried to push back against their locked blades, but it was like trying to move a wall. The Sith shoved his lightsaber with explosive power, knocking Anakin’s sword arm away in a wide arc. With his center undefended for that brief second, he was unable to prevent Krayt from kicking him square in the chest.

He flew backward, smashing through the bedroom door and into another dimly lit corridor. He used his momentum to roll back into a crouch and activated his lightsaber once more. The Sith Lord stepped through the wreckage of the broken door, calmly appraising the situation. Still silent.

Without warning, the château rocked violently, throwing both men against the corridor wall. A distant alarm began to sound, and the ancient fire suppressant system went off, dousing them in water. The sudden rain sizzled angrily against their lightsabers. Anakin wiped a stray lock of damp hair from his eyes as he stood, angling his blade at the Sith.

Krayt rose to his feet, unhurried and seemingly unbothered by the explosion that had torn through the building. He drew himself up to his full height and cracked his neck. Before he could finish, Anakin attacked.

The crimson blade snapped up to deflect his blow, and in that moment – barely audible through the sound of sirens and pouring water and engines racing overhead – the Sith Master let out a short, barking laugh. Blood pounded in Anakin’s ears; the heady scent of Vjun’s Force-rich atmosphere filled his lungs, promising power and revenge and anything else he desired. And what he desired most was to choke the laugh right out of that disgusting mouth.

Without lifting a finger, he grabbed hold of the Sith’s throat and willed it to close. He felt it constricting, felt a flash of genuine surprise from his enemy as the man’s airway shut tight. Anakin and Krayt stood frozen, lightsabers locked between them; and through the interplay of crimson and cerulean light, the young Jedi saw something that shocked him.

Darth Krayt smiled.

Anakin shoved as hard as he could, forcing Krayt away from him long enough to punch him in the jaw. The Sith backpedaled, gasping for air as mental fingers loosened around his throat. Anakin swung his saber at the man’s neck, but Krayt reached up and caught his wrist, halting the blade’s descent. The Sith sliced at him from the left, but Anakin mirrored his move, grasping Krayt’s armored forearm in his left hand.

They tried to wrestle each other to the ground, neither one giving an inch. Anakin’s muscles screamed under the strain, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain. He didn’t sense the projectile until it was too late.

It smashed into his head, and he staggered backward, dazed. In the dim light he couldn’t make out what it was, but he noticed an open door on his left, revealing another opulent bedroom. Krayt lunged forward, slicing ferociously at him as another object came flying out of the room.

Anakin managed to dodge that one, a jewelry box or something similar. He parried the next saber strike quickly, wondering if he was imagining the feel of blood dripping down his neck. Suddenly a whole arsenal of furniture filled the air around him. Krayt stepped back and lowered his saber, and the furniture hurtled toward Anakin.

He sliced through as much as he could, but his head throbbed and there was too much debris. He raised a hand, trying to stop the barrage as he looked for somewhere to retreat. A quick glance over his shoulder showed an open door at the far end of the hallway, with computers and vidscreens and – most importantly – a wide balcony he could use to escape. Abandoning any pretense of continuing the fight, Anakin turned and sprinted down the corridor, ducking and weaving to avoid the worst of Krayt’s projectiles.

He slammed the door shut as he entered the room. A quick scan confirmed that is was a secondary control center, although it didn’t appear to be in use. Or maybe, he thought darkly, there was no one left to operate it.

He used the Force to drag a desk in front of the door, though he knew that wouldn’t stop the Sith. He had only seconds to escape. Anakin ran to the balcony, ready to descend to a lower level and rejoin Ben and the other Jedi. His vengeance would have to wait.

His breath left him as he leaned over the balcony’s ornate railing. There was nothing below him but a sheer, craggy cliff wall and a long drop to the black waters of the bay. He tried to push down the despair welling up in his chest. How had he miscalculated so badly?

The wooden door burst in, exploding in a hail of splinters; the desk that blocked it slid across the room and crashed into a vidscreen. Anakin stepped away from the balcony, grasping his lightsaber in both hands as he turned to face his enemy. Krayt’s crimson blade carved up everything in its path as he entered the room. Only a few meters and some hardware separated them now.

The computers and equipment that Krayt demolished became missiles in his hands. Anakin deflected the pieces aimed at his head and torso, but some of them circled around him, striking from behind. A large metal shard sliced across his right thigh, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. The Sith Master advanced, each swing of his saber creating new weapons for his arsenal. Anakin’s arms were lead as he tried to block. A computer struck him across his face, and he saw stars.

Too late, he sensed the shift in Krayt’s position. Fire burned across the whole of his left side as the Sith’s blade seared a jagged line from hip to ribs. Anakin barely had time to register the pain when a twisted chunk of metal pummeled him in the exact same spot, tearing open the cauterized flesh. An agonized scream ripped from his throat as he fell to his knees. Krayt’s lightsaber battered against his, sending it ricocheting into the dark interior of the control room.

Drawing ragged breaths, Anakin touched a hand to his left side; it came away soaked in blood. He pressed his whole arm against the wound, trying to stem the blood loss. Darth Krayt stood over him, the tip of his saber centimeters away from Anakin’s heart. And finally, after everything, he spoke.

“Do you yield?” His voice was a soft baritone that rumbled around the inside of Anakin’s skull. Nowhere near as harsh or ugly as he’d expected, and somehow that made it worse.

Yield? How could he yield? He’d never surrendered in his whole life, not to the Separatists, not to the Sith, not even to the Force itself. How could he possibly yield while he still drew breath, while his last remaining family was out there fighting for their lives? Instead of answering, he began to crawl backward toward the balcony.

As if reading the defiance in Anakin’s eyes, Krayt sighed and shook his head. Then he reached up with one hand and removed his mask, revealing an astoundingly human face. Anakin wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but a man hardly older than Obi-Wan was not it. His dark hair was cropped short; and where before Anakin would have sworn his eyes were the color of fire, now they appeared the same dark brown as his hair.

“I confess,” Krayt said evenly, “I thought Anakin Skywalker would put up a better fight.”

Anakin was so startled to hear his name on the Sith Master’s lips that he froze. How? How could he know? And more than that, why would he say it as though he believed it were true? Even as pain threatened to overwhelm his senses, Anakin studied the man before him. There was something about his face, his eyes, that was so familiar. But it wasn’t possible. Anakin was seventy years removed from his own time; he couldn’t know anyone here.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“He didn’t tell you? He really didn’t tell you?” Krayt’s face broke into a smile as he started to laugh. “I was certain he would have jumped at the chance to tell you the truth.”

Anakin clutched at his side and continued to crawl backward. The Sith eyed him with amusement, regarding him as a parent would a troublesome child. “What truth?” Anakin asked between gritted teeth.

Krayt’s laughter faded and his eyes grew cold. The words seemed to pour out of him like a dam breaking.

“I didn’t die. They all thought I had, and I let them believe it for many years. When I encountered Ben on Ziost, I was sure he would give away my secret, but he never did. And then you showed up.” The Sith took a few steps toward Anakin, his lightsaber still angled at the young Jedi’s heart. “If there was anyone Ben was going to reveal my existence to, I was sure it would be you.”

Anakin’s vision grew blurry, and he dug his fingers into the wound to slow the bleeding. “You still haven’t told me… who you are.”

The Sith Lord smiled again, that same admonishing smile. “Haven’t you figured it out, Anakin? I’m your grandson.”

Anakin stopped moving away and stared up at Krayt. “Jacen?” he whispered. He felt as though someone were sitting on his chest. “No, that’s impossible. Ben told me what happened—”

“Told you what? That my dear sister died and took me with her?” The Sith shook his head. “I’ll admit, I thought it was the end. But the Force had other plans.” He continued toward Anakin, reaching out with his free hand. “With you at my side, I could complete what I began eleven years ago. Join me, and I’ll help you discover the full, extraordinary power of the Chosen One.”

Anakin’s eyelids fluttered, and his head swayed as the Sith’s dark energy pressed against his defenses. He could feel his own inner darkness swell, as if Krayt’s aura was calling it forth. “The Chosen One… supposed to destroy… the Sith.”

The Dark Lord held his saber out at his side as he leaned down toward Anakin. “But you weren’t going to destroy him, were you?”

Anakin shook his head and backed up to the edge of the platform. The wind whipped his hair against his face, stinging his eyes. “I am not Vader,” he growled. “Not here.”

“Tell that to my dead grandmother. Tell that to Padmé.”

Anakin nearly choked on his next breath. “What?”

“Your thoughts betray you. You already made your choice, didn’t you? You were going to join the Sith to save her.”

The horror of everything he had done and might do and would do coiled around him, squeezing the air from his lungs. “I just needed the secret,” he gasped, pathetic even to his own ears.

“Spare me your feigned innocence, as if you didn’t know what would happen. I saw it all. Some old recordings that show you betraying the Jedi, killing younglings, killing your wife…”

Everything else ceased to exist for the space of several heartbeats as Anakin was swallowed whole by the Sith’s revelation. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. The Sith had stopped speaking and was staring at him intently, but Anakin could no longer feel his dark presence. The air was suffocating him, drowning him, blocking out everything but the inescapable, unforgivable truth.

He had killed children.

He had killed his wife.

“No,” he choked out. Denial was the only refuge he had left. “I would never.”

“Search your feelings, Anakin.” Krayt’s face was placid as he reached toward him. “You know it’s true.”

Anakin shook his head, unable to respond. He couldn’t listen to this anymore, couldn’t search his feelings because he knew what he would find if he did. He needed to escape, to do something, to act without thinking, without facing the consequences.

Anakin looked over his shoulder at the abyss. Dark water churned angrily against the rocks below, the crash of waves creating a rhythm that was strangely enticing. He recognized this place now, understood that this was the precipice in his visions, the ledge from which he had fallen every night.

Tonight, he would finally reach the bottom.

With waning strength and faltering consciousness, Anakin grabbed the rail and pulled himself to his feet.

“If you are my grandson,” he murmured, “then I’m sorry I failed you.”

Before Krayt could react, Anakin released the rail and fell from the balcony.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

Maybe it was his survival instinct that made him reach for the narrow ledge. Maybe it was the will of the Force that he should do so. Whatever it was, Anakin extended both arms, grasping in the fading light for the rock face. His fingers dragged against the surface, skin and leather shredding as he tried to stop himself from slipping off the ledge. Anakin cried out as his body came to a halt and impacted on the wall.

He hung there for a moment and listened to the water below. At first, the rhythmic crash of waves seemed to echo the turbulence in his soul, but as the sounds of the sea enveloped him, it took on an almost soothing cadence. It lulled him into numbness, taking him away from his pain, away from the truth.

It would be so easy to let go.

He didn’t hear the whisper at first. It rose up from the ocean slowly, closing around him as it had done all those years ago while he stared out at a dead star.

All things die, it said softly, in the same voice he remembered, the same cold, dead voice that had followed him through the years.

Anakin shook his head angrily, ashamed of his fear and weakness. He began to pull himself up onto the ledge. No, he wouldn’t give in to the whispers, not yet.

Anakin pressed his back against the cliff wall, clinging to the rock with both hands, one bloodied, the other shining gold through his torn glove. “Ben,” he whispered, closing his eyes against the wind. He reached out through the Force, searching for some trace of his grandson, but there was nothing. He remained hidden, cut off by his own choice. Anakin finally understood why.

He could feel the other Jedi above him, tiny pinpricks of light against a black canvas of death and chaos. He had not formed attachments to any of them, at least nothing beyond the common bonds that tied most Jedi together. Surrounded by the dark energy of Vjun and the oppressive hatred that rolled off the Sith in waves, he realized that no one would find him now. No one would even feel his pathetic pleas.

“Ben, please.”

As his eyes turned skyward, he noticed another niche in the stone about fifteen meters above him. He might be able to reach it, maybe make his way back up to the roof of the château. Anakin repositioned himself on the ledge and started to climb, keeping his left arm pressed against his side.

It was slow work, climbing with one hand. The sun had already set, and he could barely see the rock in front of him. Anakin paused for a moment, trying to catch his breath; but his head was fuzzy from the blood loss and the Force-rich air. In the distance – or perhaps it wasn’t so far away – he could hear the whine of starship engines. The Sith were coming for him.

He started to climb again, but a piece of rock came loose in his hand. Anakin lost his grip and slid down against the cliff wall before landing hard on the ledge below. His momentum nearly sent him over the edge, but Anakin managed to latch onto the rock with his cybernetic arm. The Sith starfighters appeared overhead as he pulled himself onto the ledge and leaned against the face of the cliff.

There wasn’t much time for him. Sooner or later, Krayt would find him, or one of those Sith fighters would spot him on the cliff and blast him into oblivion. And if no one found him, he would be stuck in this niche, left to succumb to his wounds. He was too spent to concentrate on healing, too battered in spirit to even try.

All things die, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out.

He didn’t have it in him to block out the insidious whisper of his inner demon. The promise of death, a dead-star dragon curled around his heart, patiently waiting for the world to crumble. No matter how strong he became, no matter how firmly he stood in the light, it was always there, reminding him that it would all end.

The loss of Obi-Wan struck him hard in that moment, slashing at him as forcefully as the gusts of wind trying to tear him from the cliff. For one single, irrational second, he tried to reach for his best friend, his brother, the person beside Padmé who he loved most. And in that foolish, delirious second, he had the smallest hope that he would somehow sense Obi-Wan’s presence, feel the reassuring touch of his mind telling him that it would be all right. The warmth of his voice as he reminded his former student that there was no one else – Jedi or otherwise – that he would rather have at his side.

That second flashed by, and the faint flicker of hope went out like a spark extinguished instantly in the cold vacuum of space. Obi-Wan was gone. Obi-Wan was dead, and Anakin had killed him, just like he killed—

No. He couldn’t allow himself to think it, even though the truth of it swirled around him, a nebulous thing that promised to become tangible if he dared reach for it. He shrank away from it, a child once more, standing next to Obi-Wan as they stared out at a dead star system. Not knowing or understanding what it meant to live in a universe where anything could die – where everything would die.

Even after Obi-Wan had explained to him the finite nature of all existence and why the Jedi didn’t form attachments, Anakin still didn’t understand. He still couldn’t accept it. And when the personification of his fear began to whisper to him, he did his best to drown it out, to prove it wrong by being better, faster, stronger than its promise of death.

All of it – the struggles, the sacrifices, the secrets – it was all in vain.

He imagined now that he was the star at the center of that dead system, finally burning out and collapsing under its own weight, destroying everything around it.

So this is what it feels like to lose everything.

He thought of Ben once more, knowing he’d never reach him. Ben lied to him. He lied, and he left him here to die. Anakin wouldn’t argue whether he was justified, because of course he was. Never trust a monster, and when you get the chance, cut it loose.

He became cognizant of a warm glow at the periphery of his awareness, radiant like the suns. He couldn’t help drawing to it, cold as he was from the wind whipping up from the sea. And he realized there was one other person here who shared his blood, one other person who might hear him.

The name was barely a whisper on his bruised lips, but he put everything he had left into it.

“Allana…”

The Daybreak shuddered as another laser blast struck the rear shields. Allana’s fingers ached from squeezing the trigger of the dorsal guns, but she couldn’t let up now. They were almost through.

Allana…

Pain bled into the Force and into her, and she gasped at the sheer magnitude of it.

“Anakin,” she whispered.

His relief, so pure and profound as he found her in the Living Force. She saw him in her mind’s eye, clinging to the side of a cliff, battered and bloodied and broken. All around him darkness pressed in, a serpentine shadow held at bay only by the thinnest ray of light.

“Ben,” she said into the comm, “I found him!”

He didn’t answer her, and the shadows swelled. Taking leave of her senses, Allana jumped out of her seat and sprinted to the cockpit. She reached for Ben, wrapping both hands around one of his arms.

“What the—?” Ben tried to yank his arm out of her grasp.

“Turn around! We have to go back!”

The ship jolted under enemy laser blasts. “Are you crazy?” Ben shouted, tugging his arm away from her. “Get back on those guns!”

“Ben, I know where he is!”

In spite of the chaos all around them and the ever-widening chasm between them, Ben stared into her and she into him, and for the first time in ages they were of one mind.

“Syal,” Ben said firmly, “turn the ship around.”

The elder Antilles, who had listened to their exchange with almost amused resignation, didn’t even try to argue. She pulled back on the controls, and the Daybreak climbed at an impossibly steep angle before flipping over toward the planet’s surface. Fighters scrambled out of her path as she barreled toward them at breakneck speed.

“Where?” Syal asked, all business.

Allana’s eyes flitted across the ruined château below them. “The cliff over the bay.”

“Where are you guys going?” Myri couldn’t disguise the shock in her voice.

“We’ve got one more pickup, sis.” Syal glanced over at Ben and blew out a short breath. “You Jedi sure don’t like to make things easy, do you?”

Ben didn’t answer her. He looked up at Allana and raised both eyebrows. “Guns?” he said, impatience bubbling just under the surface.

Her cheeks reddened as she ran back to her post and flung herself behind the controls.

We’re coming, Anakin. Hold on.

Darth Dominius stared down at the unconscious boy at his feet, lips curled back in a sneer. Weak, pathetic. Too young for the mantle he’d been gifted. Not that it was his place to say so, and he never would, at least not out loud. It was a risk even to think it, although after the day’s events, he wouldn’t be surprised if his master wanted to kill every last one of them.

Darth Ferrus let out a childlike moan, and Dominius kicked him none too gently in the ribs.

“Wake up, brat.”

Ferrus coughed and opened his eyes, glaring up at Dominius with a hatred that was almost impressive. And then he said something so stupid that Dominius nearly felt the urge to laugh:

“Why is everything on fire?”

The elder Sith Lord rolled his eyes and turned to survey the damage. The grand hall was in shambles, and it was indeed on fire. He determined that while the main house might be somewhat intact, it wouldn’t be worth it to stay here. He stretched out with his senses and felt a familiar presence on the other side of the mansion. It seemed Doctor Mezzon had managed to survive yet again.

Stone scraped against stone, and Dominius looked over his shoulder to see Darth Festus shoving a great boulder out of his path. He looked positively murderous.

“Where are they?” he growled, his voice horribly strangled. For all his usual facetiousness, Festus was far more terrifying than his twin when he wanted to be.

Dominius gestured toward the demolished roof. “In the skies above.” He was about to say more when the incredible weight of his master’s presence descended on them.

All were silent under the eyes of Lord Krayt, and they kneeled in unison.

“I have failed you, my master.” Dominius felt the iron grip of fear clutching at this throat, but he would accept his punishment.

A long, terrible pause. Then, “Rise, my apprentice.”

Dominius stood quickly. The twins remained on their knees.

“Look at me.”

Dominius obeyed, staring into the inscrutable masked face of the Sith Master. Darth Krayt sifted through his mind with ease, but his mental invasion lacked the violence he’d come to expect. If he had to identify his master’s mood right now, he’d say it was almost contemplative.

The ghost of a smile – so faint and fleeting he might have imagined it – twisted at Darth Krayt’s lips. “Bring my shuttle,” he said at last.

This is crazy. This is crazy, and we’re all going to die.

Ben obliterated three more fighters as Syal hurtled the Daybreak toward the château and the cliff it was nestled in. His decision to turn back defied all logic, all reason. How insane was it that he could give such a dangerous order and that it would be followed without question?

Focus.

He could hear the Last Call just behind them, picking off the ships on their tail. There were still several enemy fighters hanging in there; and with that Star Destroyer incoming, it wouldn’t be long before the Jedi and their allies were heavily outnumbered again.

“Do you see him yet?”

Ben closed his eyes, extending his perception to the cliff. He had seen a brief flash of it when Allana stared him down, had seen Anakin losing his grip against the encroaching night. A deep well of despair, of agony, of heartbreak…

“There!” His eyes flew open as he pointed to a spot on the cliff about thirty meters above the harbor.

Syal swore under her breath and descended. As she toggled the thrusters, she threw a pointed look at Ben. “Go get him.”

Ben darted out of the cockpit and ran to the rear of the ship to open the hatch. The Daybreak leveled out, and he strode carefully to the end of the ramp, looping one arm around one of its hydraulic cylinders.

Anakin was barely visible, huddled into a shallow niche that barely fit his body. He was still too far below them. Ben yanked his comlink off his belt.

“Down about five meters, Syal.”

“Copy.”

Ben held fast to the hydraulic cylinder as the ship dropped below Anakin’s perch and hovered. The starfighters were already circling around, engines screaming as they prepared for another pass. Anakin’s face appeared over the edge of the precipice; he nodded at Ben and began to lower himself over the side.

The Last Call fired at the incoming fighters, blasting through the leader’s engine. The craft spiraled out of control, shooting past the Daybreak and crashing further down along the cliff wall. The rock face shook violently, and Anakin’s grip on the ledge started to slip.

“Hold on!” Ben shouted over the sounds of laser fire. Syal kicked the Daybreak away from the wall and turned so that most of the ship’s guns were aimed at the enemy fighters. She and Allana fired with pinpoint accuracy, but it didn’t stop the onslaught. Ben held his breath as the fighters closed in on them.

There was an explosion of metal and fire; Ben ducked back inside the ship to avoid the debris bouncing off the shields. From the cockpit, he heard Syal utter a loud, whooping battle cry. His comlink, still joined to the ship’s comm, crackled to life.

“I’ll hold off the rest, Syal… dammit, Skywalker, just grab him already!”

Ben felt relief flood him. He’d never been so happy to hear Tahiri Veila yell at him. He braced himself as the Daybreak once again approached the ledge Anakin was hanging from. Syal tipped the ship toward the sky so that the ramp was open at an angle, ready to catch the battered Jedi. Ben positioned himself under Anakin and met his gaze.

“Ready?” he shouted.

Anakin nodded, wincing.

Then he let go, and Ben realized he was going to tumble right past the edge of the ramp.

He lunged forward, reaching to snatch Anakin out of the air. Their hands met, and Ben’s breath left him as he was slammed down against the deck, his shoulder wrenched by Anakin’s momentum. He flattened himself out on the ramp, one arm still looped around the hydraulic cylinder while he strained to hold onto his grandfather’s hand. Anakin dangled dangerously under the ramp.

The ship bucked, causing Ben to cry out in pain as his shoulder twisted. But he held firm, pulling with every ounce of strength he possessed. Finally, he managed to haul Anakin up onto the ramp.

“I’ve got him!” he yelled, his comlink forgotten. He tried to drag Anakin further into the ship, but they collapsed onto the deck, a tangle of limbs and blood.

“Anakin!”

Allana was on them in an instant, her slight arms wrapping around Anakin, pulling him against her. There was something painfully childlike in the way he clung to Allana, but Ben didn’t have time to reflect on it more. The ship trembled as enemy fire crashed against the shields. Ben rolled over and staggered to his feet, bracing himself against the bulkhead as he ran toward the cockpit.

“There she is,” Syal said evenly as he entered the cockpit, indicating the massive wedge-shaped silhouette emerging from the black storm clouds directly above them.

Ben dropped back into the co-pilot’s chair, taking over weapons control. “Great. Do we know which one it is?”

“Like it matters?” Syal gritted her teeth and adjusted a few levers as she made a path straight for the Star Destroyer. “Got any more crazy ideas you’d like to throw at me?”

Tahiri’s voice crackled over the comm. “I have one.”

“This’ll be good,” Myri interjected, without a trace of sarcasm.

Syal ignored her sister’s excited comment. “What are you thinking, Tahiri?”

“Form up behind me,” Tahiri ordered. “We’re about to get real friendly with that Star Destroyer.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Syal grin. “You read my mind,” she said.

“Wait a minute.” There was a spark of mischief in Myri’s voice. “Did she really?”

Ben could practically feel Tahiri rolling her eyes. He allowed himself a small smirk at the thought of it.

Syal shook her head and let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Cut the chatter, sis. Time to play follow the leader.”

After spending so long in the dimly-lit château and then the twilight of Vjun, the bright interior lights of the Daybreak stabbed at Anakin’s eyes. He shut them tight, allowing Allana to guide him through the ship’s curving corridors. Her presence was a gentler light in the Force, one that he could bask in even as he felt himself crumbling to pieces.

“Elias!” she called out, a trace of panic in her voice. Seconds later, Anakin sensed someone jogging toward them, and he cracked one eye open to see Ben’s friend reaching for him.

“Here, let me help you,” Elias said as he pulled Anakin’s right arm over his shoulder and lifted him off of Allana. “Get the med kit, hurry.”

Allana ran off to retrieve the kit, and Anakin swayed a little as that warmth went with her. How pathetic was he? The only thing keeping him from completely falling apart was the presence of one young girl. Had he never been able to handle the darkness on his own? Had he always relied so heavily on others to keep him in check, to ground him? His mother, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Padmé, Allana… what was he without their light?

You know who you are, a cold, deep voice rumbled in his head. He thought it might somehow be his own. You know exactly who you are without them.

Traitor. Murderer. Monster. Sith.

Vader.

“It’s gonna be all right, just sit here.” Elias had led him into the crew’s quarters, a long, narrow room with two sets of double bunks. He lowered Anakin onto one of the bottom bunks and gently lifted his shirt to examine the wound in his side. Anakin sucked in a sharp breath as his tunic peeled away from the jagged and burnt flesh.

“Sorry,” Elias muttered, lowering the shirt. Allana ran in then with the med kit, and Anakin allowed the two of them to tend to his injuries. Every few seconds, the ship would jolt from laser fire or from whatever death-defying acrobatics the pilot was attempting. He couldn’t even remember who was flying the ship. He wasn’t sure it mattered if he did.

“Can you finish?” Elias said after he’d wrapped Anakin’s torso and bandaged the back of his head. He held the med kit out to Allana. “I need to get back to Kohr.”

“Of course.” Allana took the supplies and glanced down at Anakin.

“It’s just his leg and hand left to do.”

Allana gave Elias a tight smile. “I’m on it. Go ahead.”

When they were alone again, Allana pulled several antiseptic wipes from the kit and unrolled a long piece of gauze. She kneeled in front of Anakin and set to work cleaning the deep gash in his right thigh.

Anakin…

The voice crept softly into his mind, curling up at the base of his skull as if it belonged there.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head to get Krayt out of it.

We can save them all, together.

He didn’t know which “them” the voice was referring to – the loved ones he’d lost or the family he’d found – and right now he didn’t care. All he knew was he wanted it and every other voice to leave him the hell alone.

Join me...

Anakin tumbled off the bunk and staggered toward the door, steeling himself against the burning pain that shot through his abdomen.

“Wait!” Allana cried out. “I’m not done yet!”

He kept moving, into the curved corridor now. Allana came after him, fingers grasping at his tunic. The ship trembled violently, knocking Allana away from him into the bulkhead. She pulled herself up and reached out to him. “You need to lie down!”

Anakin ignored her, moving with halting steps toward the open cockpit.

The Star Destroyer loomed large in their viewport as the Daybreak accelerated toward it, following tight on the trail of Tahiri’s X-wing. The Last Call fell into formation with them, so close Ben could see Myri in the cockpit. If they could evade those massive turbolasers long enough, they might have a shot of escaping in one piece.

“Artoo,” he said into the comm. “Increase power to the shields.”

The droid screamed back something about working at his maximum capacity just to maintain hull integrity. It was a little hard to make out, he was wailing so loud.

“Okay, fine, never mind!” Ben winced as he switched off the comm. “Emperor’s bones.”

Laser blasts sizzled past them, their green energy lighting up the inside of the cockpit. Most of the Sith starfighters had peeled away, but Ben continued to fire at the ones daring enough to keep pace with them. Then Tahiri angled sharply upward, nearly scraping against the hull of the Star Destroyer; the Antilles sisters followed without hesitation.

Ben relaxed his grip on the main cannon trigger as the Daybreak skimmed the surface of the capital ship. It was all up to Syal’s piloting skills now. They raced along the hull, swerving here and there to avoid enemy fire. Ben had flown with countless amazing pilots, some Jedi, some not. Syal Antilles was easily one of the best.

They still had about two-thirds of the Star Destroyer’s length left to go before they could break for open space. The shields were holding, but only just. A couple more direct hits, and it’d all be over.

A chill raced up his spine just then, like he’d stepped into the mist of an icy waterfall. He stared down at the Star Destroyer and knew beyond certainty that Darth Krayt was close, possibly already on the ship below. Then he felt something else, eyes boring into the back of his skull.

Ben glanced behind him and saw Anakin’s battered figure appear in the doorway. His grandfather clutched the metal frame with his right hand while holding his left arm close to him. As Ben examined the other man, he realized Anakin was looking right at him, his eyes gaping maws of desolation. There was accusation in that stare, too, laser-sharp and unrelenting. Even though fire exploded all around them, Ben couldn’t look away. They stared at each other for an interminably long moment, and Ben’s breath caught in his throat as he tried to quell the panic rising up in him.

He knew.

Finally, Anakin’s dark gaze shifted, eyes landing on something beyond Ben, beyond the Daybreak. Free from his grandfather’s stare, Ben turned around and faced the viewport. The sensation of icy mist intensified, becoming a frigid deluge that threatened to drown him. He grabbed the controls, ready to blast any part of the Star Destroyer below them if it would stop the overwhelming, penetrating cold.

Even though he had already tamped down his own presence to be completely undetectable, Ben tried to make himself smaller still, knowing deep down that no matter how well he managed to hide in the Force, there was one person who would eventually find him.

Darth Krayt stood on the bridge of the Star Destroyer Eradicator, watching with interest as three vessels skimmed the surface of his ship, evading both its turbolasers and its smaller, more numerous turrets. Around him he could hear Eradicator’s crew working furiously to scramble additional fighters, to change their course, anything to shake the Jedi out into the open where they could blast them to pieces.

They needn’t have worried. He wasn’t in a killing mood today. Not that he would let them know that.

There was a reason he hadn’t used his formidable battle meditation to unite his forces as one. Several reasons, actually; and they were all on board the black YT-series freighter flying in formation behind that Jedi X-wing. If he wanted them dead, they would be.

There was one person on that ship he longed to reach for… but no, it was too soon. There would be time for that later, he told himself. Instead, he stretched out with his feelings, searching the ship. Anakin had already tried – and failed – to resist his intrusion. They all tried to resist. They all inevitably failed.

Except one.

The Master of the Sith smiled. If he didn’t have Lord Dominius’s sworn word that Ben Skywalker was on that ship, he would never have known the young Jedi Knight was there. He had grown quite skilled at his disappearing act, much more adept than he’d been on Ziost. It was a far cry from the boy he’d once known, whose mental shielding was perfectly adequate but hardly powerful. He felt a glimmer of something resembling pride.

He might not be able to sense Ben, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t reach him. He, too, was a master of becoming small in the Force, so small as to vanish completely. It was his default these days, giving him the upper hand with enemies and followers alike and keeping his apprentices on their toes. It was what had allowed him to ambush the original Darth Krayt while the old man was in stasis, killing both him and his protector, Darth Wyyrlok.

Now, however, he allowed his presence to expand outward, filling every corner of the ship with his power.

Ben…

The Jedi and their allies shot past the bridge, a whole squadron of fighters screaming after them. Krayt turned to track their movement and imagined his presence closing in around them, encircling Ben’s ship in his embrace. Two of the pursuing fighters – lacking the skill and daring of the enemy pilots – collided with a pair of defense towers, exploding in a brilliant, colorful blaze against the Star Destroyer’s shields. A murmur of fear rippled through the crewpits on either side of Krayt as their quarry broke for open space.

The three ships sped away, blasting his fighters to dust as they angled sharply upward and disappeared above the dark clouds of Vjun. A few fighters followed after them in vain. In a moment, the Jedi would be in hyperspace. Untraceable.

Krayt smiled again. Despite the damage done to Doctor Mezzon’s fortress, the day had gone quite well. He hoped the crew and his Lords would appreciate his good mood.

Far above the Eradicator, he sensed the bending and warping of realspace as the Jedi freighter made the jump to hyperspace, taking the last remnants of Jacen Solo’s family with it.

“Ben.”

He hears the voice through a haze of pain so thick he can barely muster the energy to decipher the word. It tumbles around in his brain, losing all meaning as it ricochets and repeats, benbenbenbenben...

Ben.

Ben. The word means… him. His name.

He opens his eyes to find a pair of brown ones staring back at him.

“I’m glad you’re awake. I was worried about you.” The voice is gentle. Patient. Loving. The pain digs down deeper. His back arches, fingers splaying wildly as he fights to get free.

No, that’s wrong. He isn’t fighting anything. Only reacting to the pain.

He shuts his eyes to ward off the voice and the pain and the face of his tormentor.

“Ben, look at me. Ben.”

“Ben?”

He opened his eyes quickly and sat frozen in his chair as he counted to ten and remembered where he was. Starlines streaked past the cockpit; his hands were wrapped around a set of controls. He turned his head to the left only to find Syal Antilles looking back at him.

“Are you okay?” she asked in a quiet voice.

He exhaled slowly, trying not to shake. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“We’re away. On route to the enclave.”

Ben shook his head and stood up. “Take us off course. We can’t continue on until we know for sure we’re not being tracked.”

Syal looked like she might argue, but she nodded and pulled up the navicomputer. “I didn’t detect any homing beacons. You know what you’re looking for?”

“Not exactly, but I know where to look.”

He turned and exited the cockpit, fighting down the panic that was still lingering in his system. It had been so long since he’d had an episode like that during waking hours; he didn’t have to wonder what had triggered it, but it still took him by surprise. As he walked swiftly down the corridor toward the cargo bay, he reached out to run his fingers along the curved walls. There was something about the cool, hard metal that helped him bring his focus fully to the here and now.

He ducked into the cargo hold where the younglings and the rest of Ben’s crew, save for Allana and Anakin, were waiting. Elias and Ames were tending to a still-unconscious Kohr, while Valin distributed food, water, and blankets to the children. Ben approached the former, his gut lurching a little at the sight of Kohr’s bloody bandages.

“How is he?” he said. Ames was applying pressure while Elias wrapped fresh gauze around the boy’s head.

“He’ll be all right as long as we can get to a healer or a medic soon, I think.” Elias wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, then frowned at the sound of the hyperdrive disengaging. “Have we stopped?”

Ben nodded. “Just changing course until we can verify we’re not being followed.”

“You think we are?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. Everything about our escape… it was too easy.”

Ames glared up at him, his hands still on Kohr's wound. "You call that easy?"

Ben ignored him and stalked across the room. "We can't go back until we know for sure those kids aren't being traced. Everything needs to be checked."

Elias tied off Kohr’s bandage and said a few hushed words to Ames before standing up. “Where do you want me?”

Ben looked around the cargo hold. Some of the younglings were asleep, but the rest were staring back at him with frightened faces. Dirty, gaunt, in some cases bruised. How must he appear to them now?

“Start over there,” he said a little more gently, pointing toward what looked like the youngest group of survivors. “Valin, keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll take this side.”

He moved toward the cluster of children opposite Elias and kneeled down next to them. “It’s all right. You’re safe now. We’re going to take you somewhere the Sith will never find you again.” He looked into each set of eyes. “Do you understand?”

The younglings nodded slowly. They didn’t look like they believed him entirely, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t trust him.

“Okay,” he said. “My name is Ben. I’m looking for a tracking device. The Sith might have planted it on your clothing or even under your skin.” The children cringed and exchanged terrified glances. “I know it sounds scary, but if they tagged you, we need to know so we can get rid of it and get away from the Sith.”

The children – four of them, all human – stared at him silently. Ben sighed.

“Were any of you tagged?”

One little girl with curly, black hair shook her head slowly. The rest were motionless. This was going to take forever; in the meantime, the Sith could be zeroing in on their location.

“Ben.” Elias’s voice came from across the hold. “Over here.”

Ben turned away from the children and met Elias’s eyes. He was crouched over a young girl, no more than eight or nine years old, who had fallen asleep against one of the storage containers. Elias swept aside several long strands of dirty brown hair to reveal the child’s neck. Around it was a silver necklace, tarnished and with several knots in the chain. Ben crossed the hold, careful not to step on any of the other children who had collapsed on the deck in exhaustion. He kneeled down next to Elias and examined the oval pendant on the chain.

“Dammit,” he muttered so that only Elias could hear. Ben pulled the necklace over the girl’s head, taking care not to wake her. He handed it to his friend. “Look.”

Elias held the pendant up and examined it closely. He frowned. “A tracking device.”

Ben retrieved the necklace and nodded stiffly. “Yep. See this groove around the edge of the pendant, where the two silver pieces were soldered together? It’s been taken apart and repaired.” Ben placed the pendant on the deck and stood up. He positioned his heel over the pendant, steadied himself for a second, and then crushed the oval under his boot. “There,” he said, staring at the shattered remains of the child’s necklace. “That should keep them off our trail for a while.”

Elias swept up the pieces, eyeing them sadly. “Poor kid.”

Ben patted his friend on the shoulder and turned away. “Time to get this ship back on course.” He stood and pressed a button on the hold’s wall comm. “Syal, we’re all clear. Take us to the enclave.”

Elias nodded toward the door. “You heading back to the cockpit?”

Ben shook his head. “Got something else to take care of first.” He left his crew to care for Kohr and the children. With Syal flying the ship, that meant that Allana had probably taken it upon herself to tend to Anakin’s wounds. His grandfather had allowed her to pull him away from the cockpit once they went into lightspeed – good thing, too, because Ben wasn’t sure he could have had Anakin in there for much longer.

He couldn’t avoid him any longer, though. Not if he wanted to keep him from falling into that dark place that was so fond of producing monsters.

As he approached the crew’s quarters, one of the doors opened, and Allana slipped out. She looked exhausted, and Ben couldn’t blame her. Vjun was more than she’d ever had to handle, both physically and emotionally.

“How are you holding up?” he said, trying to muster up a small smile.

Allana shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I’m fine. Just a few scrapes and bruises, nothing fatal. Anakin’s pretty banged up, though.”

Ben looked over her shoulder. “Is he in there?”

“Yeah. Elias helped me bandage him up real quick, but he needs rest and probably a healer.” Suddenly she looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”

“I need to talk to him.”

Allana cocked her head to one side. “Can’t it wait? I told you he needs to rest.”

Ben jerked his head in the direction of the cargo hold. “Why don’t you give the others a hand with the kids?”

She glared at him just a little as she gave him a mock salute. “Yes, Master.”

Once she was out of sight, Ben opened the door to the men’s quarters. There were four bunks, two on each side of the room, with a long, narrow table in the common area between them. Anakin was lying on the lower bunk along the left wall, his back to the rest of the room. His clothes were torn in several places, and Ben could see bandages peeking out from under them. The biggest one seemed to wrap around his entire abdomen, although it was impossible from this position to tell where the actual wound was. There had been a lot of blood on the ramp after he’d pulled Anakin aboard. There had been a lot of blood everywhere today, it seemed. Amazing how even when their weapons cauterized wounds, the Sith and the Jedi still found ways to make each other bleed.

The smallest of coughs from the lower left bunk let Ben know Anakin was awake. He waited for a minute, not knowing how to start this conversation, hoping that maybe his grandfather would make the first move. Dreading either scenario. After another minute of complete silence, Ben finally relented.

“I’m sure you have a lot you want to say to me,” he said carefully, trying not to rush the words. His first statement was met with silence, so he tried another. “I know you’re angry that I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

Anakin didn’t move. He hardly even seemed to be breathing. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe neither one of them was ready.

“Listen, I’m not going to stand here all day. If you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll go.”

Ben had his finger on the keypad when Anakin spoke.

“Were you hoping I would kill him?”

The question hung in the air between them, hard and accusing. Ben wasn’t sure how he should answer – the truth was more complicated than any quick explanation he might give. He turned around, watching the back of Anakin’s head. “I didn’t know he’d be there,” he said. And it was true, although maybe he should have known better, should have known Anakin’s presence in this time would not have gone unnoticed by the Master of the Sith.

But he hadn’t really answered Anakin’s question, so he continued. “I would never have wanted you to fight him alone. I didn’t want you to fight him at all.”

More silence. Then there was the soft rustle of fabric as Anakin rolled over and slowly pulled himself to his feet. He still held his left arm close to his body, probably to brace himself against the pain. There were other injuries Ben hadn’t had time to notice before. Bruises around both his eyes and along the left side of his face. A bandage wrapped around his right thigh. The skin of his left hand red and raw. The exposed gold metal visible through his torn leather glove – while not an injury – was a bit startling. He’d assumed it was a prosthesis, but he hadn’t realized it wouldn’t be nearly as advanced as the ones he was used to seeing. All in all, his grandfather was a mess.

No, it was more than that. He looked as though he’d been shattered.

They stared at each other for a moment before Anakin took a step toward the table and gripped the back of a chair with his right hand. And then he looked straight into Ben’s soul and asked the one question Ben had hoped never to answer:

“Is it true about Padmé?”

Ben froze. There wasn’t any way he could explain it, was there? Not without destroying his grandfather.

“Is it true?” Anakin repeated. Even through the anguish in his voice, Ben could hear that tone of command, one that compelled the listener to bend to the speaker’s will.

For one second, Ben felt a powerful urge to put Anakin in his place, show him that there were more important things than his own pain. The feeling passed, leaving only grim resignation and the slimy chill that meant he’d just brushed the darkness.

There was only one way he could tell Anakin the truth.

“Sit down,” Ben said quietly. When Anakin didn’t move, Ben turned to face him fully, his eyes narrowed. “If you want the truth, then sit down.”

Anakin dropped into the chair at the end of the table and leaned forward apprehensively. Gone was the edgy darkness that had stained his presence up until now. As Ben reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, the only thing that clouded around Anakin was fear, pure and unadulterated.

Ben removed a small holoproj from his jacket and placed it on the table in front of Anakin. He pressed a button, and a narrow blue beam emerged above the device. Anakin shifted in his seat before going completely still.

Two miniature figures appeared in the hologram, a man and a woman. As the image focused, Ben heard Anakin gasp. They were looking at smaller versions of Anakin – of Darth Vader – and his wife, Padmé Amidala.

“—I have brought peace to the Republic,” Vader was saying. “I am more powerful than the Chancellor; I can overthrow him. And together you and I can rule the galaxy, make things the way we want them to be!”

As Vader finished his impassioned speech, Padmé took a step back and shook her head. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing. Obi-Wan was right! You’ve changed.”

Vader’s expression darkened. “I don’t want to hear anymore about Obi-Wan. The Jedi turned against me. Don’t you turn against me!”

In his seat, Anakin raised a hand to cover his mouth, shaking his head as he stared unblinking at his holographic counterpart.

“I don’t know you anymore!” Padmé’s tears weren’t clearly visible in the recording, but Ben could tell from her voice that she’d begun to cry. “Anakin… you’re breaking my heart! You’re going down a path I can’t follow.”

Vader’s tone was colder, more distant than before. “Because of Obi-Wan?”

“Because of what you’ve done! What you plan to do!”

Vader’s eyes left Padmé, clouding angrily as he looked over her head at something beyond the projector field.

“Stop! Stop now, come back!” Padmé reached for her husband. “I love you!”

As it always did at this moment, Ben’s stomach twisted in a tight, icy knot as his grandfather turned on his grandmother and roared, “LIAR!”

Padmé glanced behind her, eyes widening in shock. “No!”

“You’re with him!”

“No,” Anakin moaned, hand falling away from his mouth. He watched in horror as Vader raised his hand and began to squeeze his fingertips together.

“You brought him here to kill me!”

Padmé’s hands flew to her throat, choking out a desperate, “No!”

Ben had viewed this scene so many times, he’d lost track. He’d wanted to understand how it could have happened, why it had to happen like this. What drove someone to try to kill the people they loved most? Was it the same thing that had driven Jacen?

What would drive Ben to kill like that, and how many people would he destroy in the end?

“Let her go, Anakin!” Despite the age of the recording, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s voice rang out clear.

Padmé gasped for air and whispered something the recorder hadn’t picked up. Anakin rose from his seat and reached for the image.

“Padmé…” His fingers stretched toward her, as if hoping he could release the hold on her throat.

Obi-Wan’s voice again, hard as durasteel: “Let. Her. Go.”

Padmé fell away, disappearing from the projector field.

“NO!” The device flew off of the table and smashed into the far wall, erasing the hologram completely.

Anakin’s chest heaved as he took several loud, ragged breaths, staring at the spot where the hologram had been. Then he fell back into his seat, tears in his eyes.

Ben waited, because he knew what Anakin would say next. He knew because it was the way people always reacted when someone close to them committed a heinous crime. It was the way he had reacted when Jaina revealed the full extent of her brother’s dark deeds.

Anakin would swear that it couldn’t really be him. He would deny it and rationalize by saying he would never hurt her. He would try to convince Ben that he was not the man in that recording. And then he would break down as he realized the horrible, soul-crushing truth.

But Anakin didn’t say anything. He took another shuddering breath, put his head in his hands, and wept.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

After spending the better part of a day navigating the less-traveled hyperlanes from Vjun to the Inner Rim, the Jedi and their allies finally reached the edge of the Transitory Mists – a vast region of beautiful and dangerous nebulae that formed a protective barrier around the Hapes Cluster, their destination. It had been several months since Tahiri checked on this particular enclave, and the ever-changing nature of the nebulae meant that they would have to tread a careful path through the Mists, lest they end up getting pulled into one of its many hidden stars.

Tahiri checked her navicomputer, plotting a series of micro jumps that should take them to Haven, a small, uninhabited planet gifted to the Jedi Order by Hapan Queen Mother Tenel Ka Djo shortly before her death. It didn’t appear in any Hapan records, and though it technically fell within the boundaries of the Hapes Consortium, it had never been explored or claimed by their government. Less than a parsec from Terephon, it was nestled in a particularly hard-to-reach pocket of the nebula. Tahiri had to adjust her course every time she came here, using the Force to detect fluctuations in the ionized gases that could wipe out old hyperlanes and reveal new ones. Charting a course to Haven was often a long process, but it was worth it.

“Sending coordinates,” Tahiri said into the comm as her fingers flew across the navicomputer’s screen. “With any luck, we’ll be at Haven in time for breakfast.”

“Don’t you mean dinner?” Myri’s voice held – as usual – just a hint of mischief.

“It’s the middle of the night, as far as I’m concerned.” Syal yawned a little as she spoke. “I really am getting old. Can’t pull the all-nighters like I used to.”

Tahiri shook her head and smirked. “Wait until you’re pushing forty. It doesn’t get any better.”

“Okay, we get it,” Ben’s voice broke in, exhausted. “You’re all so old.”

“Hey!” Myri said, a hint of resentment in her voice. “Don’t pick on me, I just said it’s dinner time.”

“Listen, kids, I’m going to Haven, if anyone wants to join me.” Tahiri finalized her course and prepared to make the jump. “See you on the other side.”

Comms went silent as Tahiri made the first jump, coming out of hyperspace in a field of brilliant blue-violet gases. While she waited for the others to arrive, she stretched out with her senses, checking the navicomputer’s course against the swirling nebula before her. Satisfied that the hyperlane was intact, she prepared for the next jump. The others arrived, and she gave the all clear.

This process continued for several jumps – nine in all – until the bright vortex of hyperspace gave way to a small green planet, tucked into the deep blue folds of space like a smooth, sparkling emerald.

Tahiri leaned back in her seat for a moment and sighed. Then she opened a comm channel as her companions reentered realspace behind her. “Welcome to Haven,” she said.

They touched down on the planet’s dark side – or what was closest to its dark side, as there was hardly ever true night in the Hapes Cluster. The Daybreak and the Last Call landed first, maneuvering into a hangar hidden by a rocky overhang. Tahiri followed after, setting her X-wing onto a floor made of tightly packed earth. Before she even opened her hatch, she saw Jysella Horn and Orion Tivas hurrying across the hangar to meet them. Tahiri popped the hatch and climbed out.

“The children?” Jysella said quickly.

Tahiri jumped to the ground and nodded toward the Daybreak. “Ben’s ship.”

“How many?” Orion asked. He was the resident Jedi Healer at Haven and the only fully trained one besides Tekli that they had left. Orion had been trained by Tekli and was very skilled, but he was also young and relatively inexperienced.

“Not sure. I got there after they were on board. But I know Tredo Kohr was wounded pretty bad.”

Orion exchanged a glance with Jysella. “I’ll take care of Kohr if you’ll look after the younglings.”

The Daybreak’s ramp began to lower, and Orion ran to meet Ben and Elias as they exited the ship, carrying Kohr on a stretcher between them. The boy was still unconscious, and his clothes were covered in the blood from his head wound. Geridan Ames was at his friend’s side, looking as though he was still somewhat in shock. Orion took over for Ben, and he and Elias hurried down the ramp with Ames close on their heels.

“Come on,” Tahiri said to Jysella after they’d gone by. “Let’s get these kids inside.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Myri and Arden Veiss jogging over from the Last Call. They watched solemnly as Kohr was carried into the enclave, then made their way over to the Daybreak .

“How can we help?” Myri said.

Ben was still standing on the ramp, staring off in the direction Elias and Orion had gone. He shook his head as though a jolt of electricity had just shot through his body. “This way,” he said, turning to head back up the ramp.

They entered the cargo hold and found about a dozen younglings strewn about the room in various states of dress and consciousness. Valin was holding what looked to be the youngest of the children, a small, dark-skinned, human boy who looked about five years old. Syal was next to him, pressing a hand to the child’s forehead.

“This one has a fever,” she said as Valin stood up with the boy. “I’ll take him to the medcenter, Valin.”

Valin nodded at Syal and put the boy in her arms. She hurried past them as the other children watched with wide eyes. Tahiri’s thoughts traveled briefly to another time, another cargo hold filled with frightened, battered younglings. At least this time there were no mothers weeping over lost sons and no sons screaming for lost mothers. Her eyes found Ben’s, and – as if sensing the direction of her thoughts – he looked away quickly.

Jysella stepped past Tahiri and flung her arms around Valin’s neck. “You are such an idiot,” she said quietly.

Valin let out a tired laugh as he wrapped his sister in a tight embrace. “Glad to see you, too, Jys.”

Tahiri joined the Horn siblings, eyes sweeping over the cargo hold again. “How are the rest of the kids?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Valin released Jysella, and his eyes clouded a little. “Physically intact, I think, but they’ve obviously been through a lot. They’ll need a lot of care.” He sighed and moved to the center of the hold.

“Everyone,” Valin said gently. “My name is Master Horn. These nice ladies and I are here to help you. We’re going to get you clean clothes, some food, and a warm place to sleep. I promise, you’re safe now.”

Some of the children rose quickly, without prompting; Tahiri recognized most of them from her visits to the enclave on Denon. A few of the children were noticeably slower to stand up. Fear and mistrust clouded around them, a gray, wispy smoke that refused to clear. She stepped out of the way as the kids shuffled toward the ramp where Myri and Arden were waiting. She caught Myri’s eye over their heads.

“Think you can manage without me for a few minutes?” Tahiri asked.

“Sure, we’ve got this.” The Corellian woman nudged Arden in the side. “Come on, kiddos! Follow me!”

As the children followed Myri, Arden, and Jysella down the ramp, Tahiri joined Ben and Valin. “We seem to be a couple of hands short. Where’s your apprentice?”

Ben looked over his shoulder toward the interior of the ship. “I told her to get some rest. She’s probably still sleeping.”

“I’m surprised you let her go in there with you.”

“I didn’t let her; she snuck off the Daybreak once we were on our way in.”

Valin patted Ben’s shoulder and shrugged. “She did find the hidden entrance into the mansion. You trained her well, Ben.”

Ben looked more irritated than proud. Tahiri shifted her gaze to Valin and smiled. “Valin, could you give us a few?”

The older man smiled knowingly. “Sure. I’d better help with the kids.” A moment later, Tahiri was alone in the cargo hold with Ben.

“Is there a reason Anakin isn’t with the healers?” she said, careful not to sound too accusing.

“He’s stable,” Ben said. “I didn’t want to move him if it wasn’t necessary.”

“Uh-huh. You sure there isn’t something else going on you want to tell me about?”

Ben rubbed at his eyes. “Like what, Tahiri?”

“Like how your time-traveling grandfather ended up hanging off a cliff, cut off from the rest of your team, looking like he was beaten halfway to hell? Or why you’re hiding him on this ship instead of getting him the medical attention he probably needs?”

“I’m not hiding him, and it’s not my fault he couldn’t handle the Sith Master all by himself.”

Tahiri blinked a couple of times as she processed this new information. “Krayt was there?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, voice cracking from fatigue. “And I already told Anakin about how Aunt Leia died, so you can guess what happened when he saw Krayt.”

“I’ll bet,” Tahiri murmured. There were moments when she thought about how crazy it was that she believed this time travel stuff, but there it was. “Did he… are you worried he might be starting down that path?”

Ben’s voice was very far away when he answered. “I don’t know.”

Tahiri watched his expression carefully, but he was back to his usual closed off self. Whatever it was that was really bothering him – and she had a couple of guesses what that might be – he wasn’t going to share it with her. Not right now.

“I think you need to take him to Orion,” she said firmly. “Healers work on more than just the body, you know.”

Ben sighed audibly and nodded. “I know, I know. Fine. Help me get the stretcher. But I’m warning you, he is heavy. He doesn’t look like he should be, but he is.”

Tahiri gave him the side-eye as she pulled the extra stretcher down off the wall. “Might as well wake Allana up while we’re at it. She and Geridan both should make some time for a counseling session after they’ve eaten and gotten cleaned up.”

Ben picked up one end of the stretcher and helped her carry it to the crew’s quarters. “Do you really think that’ll help them?”

“Just because you don’t like counseling doesn’t mean others don’t find it helpful.”

Ben raised one eyebrow. “Spare me the lecture?”

Tahiri stopped in front of the door to the men’s cabin and set down her end of the stretcher. “Stop getting so defensive. This is about Allana and Geridan, not you. Maybe counseling won’t help, but they should at least have the opportunity to find out.”

Ben was silent as he lowered his end of the stretcher. He stayed crouched to the floor for a moment, staring into space. Tahiri wondered what was coming next; what secret burden was he about to unload on her?

“Why did you go to Vjun when you said you wouldn’t?” he finally asked.

Tahiri stared down at the top of his head. Why had she gone? Out of loyalty, or friendship? Because she didn’t want to see Ben get killed? Because she knew what it was like to be experimented on and turned into something unnatural? Because even though she knew it didn’t make sense to risk so much, she also knew deep down that Ben was right? That it was what Luke Skywalker would do, and wasn’t he the standard she still secretly wished to hold herself to? Maybe it was all those reasons. But when it came down to it, there was one reason that stood above the rest:

“Because I’m a Jedi Knight, and you and your crew and those children are a part of my family. And it’s my duty to protect you all.”

Ben looked up at her and gave her the smallest of smiles. “I’m glad you came. I don’t think we would have made it without you.”

Tahiri took a deep breath and cracked a smile in return. “Don’t let Syal or Myri hear you say that.” She gestured toward the cabin door. “Shall we?”

Ben helped her lift the stretcher, and the two of them entered the cabin to find Anakin sitting on one of the lower bunks. His eyes were puffy but dry, although that didn’t really matter with all the bruises on his face. Darth Krayt had really given him a beating.

“We’re going to take you to our healer,” Tahiri said, nodding toward the stretcher.

Anakin stared up at her, blankly at first but then with slow recognition. “I can walk,” he said. He sounded hollow, like the only thing inside of him was the words he’d just spoken. “Where are we?” he continued.

“At one of our enclaves,” Tahiri answered. “We’re safe for now.”

Anakin nodded in a way that suggested he didn’t entirely believe that, but that wasn’t surprising given what they’d just been through. Hell, she wasn’t sure she really believed it either.

Anakin stood up slowly, looking only briefly at Ben. Something was going on between those two; the uneasiness she’d sensed from Ben earlier was multiplied here in his grandfather’s presence. Tahiri set her mouth in a grim line. “Come with me; I’ll show you to the medcenter and get you cleaned up.”

Ben stepped out of the cabin first. “I’ll wake Allana and meet you two inside.”

Tahiri nodded, then began to head for the ship’s exit. Anakin followed close behind. They walked across the dirt floor hangar and entered the enclave, which was itself buried deep under a heavily forested mountain. It was one of the newer ones and was under the supervision of Jysella and Orion. The latter was working on training a new generation of healers, but Tahiri couldn’t help wondering how much they would be able to do for Anakin, not to mention Kohr or the poor younglings. They simply didn’t have the necessary experience or resources.

The corridor they were in sloped gently upward, leading to the enclave’s common area. A few teenaged apprentices were eating at a table in the corner, but the room was empty otherwise. Tahiri supposed most of the older Jedi were assisting with the new arrivals. The younglings from the Denon enclave would probably adjust well enough, but the Force-sensitive children who’d been kidnapped elsewhere would need a lot of care and time to get used to their new environment.

Tahiri turned down another hallway opposite the apprentices and walked for about thirty meters before stopping in front of a white door. She keyed it open and led Anakin into the medical center. A very young Togruta woman named Yasha – one of Orion’s trainees – approached them. She seemed a little uneasy as she looked Anakin over.

“Master Tivas is tending to Jedi Kohr,” she said, “but I can see to your injuries until he is free.”

Anakin nodded and stepped away from Tahiri. She felt as though she should say something to him, some words of encouragement to get him through the pain that was so clearly eating away at his heart. She wasn’t good with all the emotional stuff.

“You’ll be all right,” she said with as much certainty as she could muster. Still, the words sounded empty to her own ears.

Anakin turned and met her eyes. He didn’t smile, and he didn’t say anything in return; but he did give her a nod before following Yasha into one of the healing rooms. The door slid shut behind them, leaving Tahiri alone. She took a long, weary breath.

You have to be.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Arden stood slightly behind Ames as he spoke with the Jedi Healer. Kohr had been in there for over an hour, but Arden had just arrived after helping to get the rescued younglings settled, so she didn’t know what was going on with their friend. Apparently, Ames was equally in the dark, despite having waited in the medical center for every second of Kohr’s stay.

The Jedi Healer – who could hardly have been much older than her – placed a hand on Ames’s shoulder. “He needs some uninterrupted rest, but I believe he will make a full recovery.”

Ames’s shoulders relaxed, and the look on his face was nothing short of grateful. “Thank you, Master Tivas. When can we see him?”

“No earlier than tomorrow. I’ll let you know when he is awake. In the meantime, let’s get some bacta for that shoulder.”

Ames looked like he’d forgotten about his blaster wound, and Arden had to hide the smile that crept up on her. The boy sure had a one-track mind when it came to his best friend.

“Right,” he said, following the healer into another one of the medcenter’s rooms. Arden watched them go, wondering which of the other doors Kohr was behind.

She heard the main door slide open behind her and turned to see Elias walking in. “Where did you get to?” she said. “I thought you’d be in here or helping with the younglings?”

Elias looked down at his hands and wiped them on his pants. “I started repairs on the Daybreak. She took a few good hits back there, but I think I can sort her out in a few days.”

Arden nodded, returning her attention to the row of closed doors. “Kohr is going to be okay,” she said with a sigh. “Ames and I just heard the news.”

Elias stepped toward her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Thank the stars. I wasn’t sure what would happen. There was so much blood…”

Arden turned in his arms and laid her head against his chest. “I wasn’t sure any of us would make it out of there.” She closed her eyes for a moment, thanking every deity both real and imagined that they had made it off of Vjun alive, intact, and without losing anyone.

“Yeah. We got lucky.” His voice had taken on a kind of far-off tone, like he wasn’t quite present in the here and now.

She leaned her head back to look up at him. His eyes had clouded over, unfocused.

“Hey,” she said, curling her fingers against his shirt. “What’s wrong?”

Elias shook his head, and his gaze refocused on her. “Nothing.”

“You had that look on Heibic before the Sith showed up,” Arden said, the beginnings of true worry rising up in her. “Is this some kind of Jedi thing? Like when there’s danger?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said quickly. “Just a bad memory.”

A word came to her then. A name.

Yalena.

She wasn’t sure why it had popped into her head. She’d only heard it mentioned during their mission briefing before Vjun. Something about a failure to kill the Sith doctor many years ago. It had been a passing mention, but Elias had almost definitely been involved, and the mere mention of it had shaken him.

Arden reached a hand up to his cheek. “You know you can tell me anything?”

There was something in his eyes that she’d never seen there before. It reminded her of an animal caught in a trap, or of the way she’d felt the first time she tried to swim on her own and got stuck underwater for a few seconds too long. Elias grasped the hand that was pressed to his face, turning into it to kiss her palm. “I know, Arden. I just… I can’t…” He averted his gaze. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to talk about.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight. “Don’t be sorry. Forget about it; let’s go work on the ship.”

He pulled back a little. “You want to?”

“Sure, what other use am I in a secret Jedi base?”

She saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

When they arrived at the ship, they found Syal and Myri working on the Last Call just a few meters away. Myri was whistling a tune as she tried to pry a panel off the underbelly of her ship; Syal had on a pair of goggles and was busy welding something back together. Myri noticed them first.

“Hey there, you two. Come to join our little party?”

Syal turned off her torch and pushed her goggles up onto her forehead. “Looks like the Daybreak could use a little love. Okay if I give you a hand?”

“Fine by me,” Elias said. “I’ll never argue against more help.”

Myri held her hands out at her side. “Hey, sis, remember me? Your flesh and blood who you were in the middle of helping?”

Syal flashed a smile that was far too sweet. “It is my fault the Daybreak got banged up in the first place. Yours was barely scratched. Guess you’re just a better pilot than me.”

Myri folded her arms across her chest. “Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?”

Syal winked at Arden and Elias, then waved at Myri as she walked over to examine the Daybreak.

“Sith got a few lucky shots in while the shields were down,” she said, running her fingers along a scorched length of metal on the ship’s underbelly. “Managed to punch a shallow hole in the hull. Not enough to put us in real danger, but it needs to be fixed or the integrity of this entire section will be compromised.”

Arden wasn’t well-versed in ship mechanics, but the gaping hole that Syal was pointing at seemed plenty dangerous to her.

“I noticed some sluggishness in the controls while I was flying her,” Syal continued, “so I’d like to run some diagnostics and see if I can tune her up a little. If Ben doesn’t mind, that is.” Arden got the feeling the elder Antilles didn’t particularly care if Ben minded.

Elias shrugged. “Should be fine. I’m sure he wants the Daybreak in top condition. And no one knows how to fix ’em up like you do.”

Syal glanced over her shoulder as she fiddled with a cluster of wires near the open hatch. “Flattery,” she said with a shake of the head.

Myri’s voice drifted over from the Last Call. “Is that all it takes to get your help? Flattery for my talented, beautiful, incredibly intelligent big sister?”

Syal didn’t miss a beat. “Go back to work, Myri.”

Arden stepped onto the ramp. “How long will this take?”

“A couple days, tops. I work fast, and I’ll have you two for help, right?”

“Of course,” Elias said. He looped his arm around Arden’s waist. “Should be fun.”

Syal picked up her torch and pulled her goggles back down over her eyes. “And let’s keep the tender gazes and touchy-feely stuff that you think no one notices to a minimum, okay? It’s all fun and games until someone has a circuit board blow up in their face.”

Arden looked at Elias and grinned. “Has that happened before?”

“Yeah,” Elias groaned, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Twice.”

Twin suns burned bright overhead as smoke enshrouded the horizon. He ran back to the camp, rousing the occupants of every tent he passed. Children and adults stumbled out onto the hot sand, some crying frantically, others staring at the chaos in stunned silence. The smoke was coming closer, dark and thick as it licked at the edges of the camp.

He corralled as many people as he could toward the opposite edge of the camp; those who remained behind began to scream as the smoke enveloped them. From deep within the smoke he saw a fire raging, angry and wild and unfettered, destroying everything in its path. Tendrils of flame wrestled for dominance, climbing higher and higher into the air.

Suddenly they were surrounded on all sides by fire and smoke, and then he heard a sound that curdled his blood.

The war cry of a Tusken Raider.

Anakin’s eyes flew open, and he sat bolt upright, still screaming at the top of his lungs. He reached for his lightsaber, but instead of its hilt he felt the thin material of the pants they’d changed him into in the medbay. He looked down at the matching tunic. No smoke, no burns. His bionic arm was completely exposed, and the fingers and palm of his left hand were freshly bandaged. He turned them over just to be sure there were no burns on the other side, either.

The door across from his bed slid open, and the healer – a slender, dark-haired young man whose name he couldn’t remember – rushed in. “Are you okay? I heard a scream.”

For a moment, Anakin was tempted to tell the healer that it was just a dream, nothing to be concerned about. But how often were they just dreams, really? The cliff on Vjun, Padmé’s death, his mother on Tatooine…

Tatooine.

Anakin swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand up; the healer was there in an instant, muttering reassurances that he was safe while trying to coax him back into bed.

“Ben,” Anakin said, resisting the healer as best he could. “Where’s Ben?”

“You need to lie down before you tear the sutures!”

Anakin grabbed the man by the front of his coat. “Where is he?”

“I haven’t seen him since he arrived. Now would you please lie down?”

Anakin pushed past him, staggering a little as he headed for the door. “My robes?”

The healer looked at him incredulously. “They’re being cleaned, although they were in pretty rough shape.” He pointed toward a shelf on the adjacent wall. “I brought you some spare clothes to wear for now. Better than those scratchy things.” He indicated the stiff medcenter garb Anakin was currently dressed in. “I’m Orion, by the way. I treated you while you were passed out.”

Anakin nodded absently as he turned to reach for a folded stack of clothing. He began to strip right there. The gray pants were utilitarian, though not uncomfortable. They hit above his ankles, but they would do for now. As he went to pull the black shirt over his head, he realized it didn’t have sleeves. He frowned at the shirt, already missing the generous cut of his Jedi robes. Then he put it on and looked over at the healer. “Where are my boots?”

Orion nodded toward the foot of the bed. His boots were there, along with a long black glove. Anakin picked up the glove and studied it for a moment. It was much thinner than his old one and was made of some kind of synthetic leather. He pulled it on over his prosthetic and flexed his fingers, listening to the material creak. Then he slid on the boots and turned once more to face the healer.

“What did you do with my lightsaber?”

Orion looked surprised. “You didn’t have one.”

An aching hollowness in his gut, followed by a stab of white-hot anger. “What do you mean, I didn’t have one?”

“When Yasha brought you to the exam room, you had no lightsaber.”

Anakin fought down the panic that was already rushing through him. He shouldn’t assume anything; maybe he’d left it on Ben’s ship. He told himself it didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that they get to Tatooine before it was too late.

He sprinted from the medical center, reversing the path he’d taken with Tahiri to get there. As he entered the common area, he spotted Allana talking quietly with the boy called Ames.

“Allana!” he shouted, drawing her attention away from Ames. Her gray eyes lit up.

“Anakin! You’re okay!” She stood up and ran over to meet him. She stopped just short of flinging her arms around him and looked him up and down. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

He waved her concerns away, ignoring the pain in his side. “I’m fine, but we need to find Ben.”

“What for?” The voice came from behind him, and Anakin turned to see Ben standing there. His grandson looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. How long had they been here?

Anakin held out a hand toward him. “Ben, we need to get back to Tatooine. Right now.”

Ben’s eyebrows knitted together. “Why?”

Anakin’s breath caught in his throat as he remembered the Tuskens’ war cry. “Because the enclave is in trouble.”

Allana sat with Anakin outside the holotransceiver room, waiting for Ben to return. The man who had saved her life on Vjun – she thought of him as her friend, whether or not he felt the same – was hunched forward, bouncing one leg up and down with impressive speed. She wanted to ask him what he’d seen that made him think the Jedi on Tatooine were in danger, but the expression on his face made her think better of it. She also resisted the urge to tell him everything would be all right because most of the time she hated it when adults said things like that. It was so rarely true.

Finally, the door to the transceiver room slid open, and Ben emerged looking calm, though not as relieved as she’d hoped.

“They’re fine,” he said. “I spoke to Karanya, and she said everything is normal. No disturbances in the Force or otherwise.”

Allana frowned. “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

Ben scowled at her, but he didn’t deny it. Next to her, Anakin stood up.

“We have to go to them,” he said.

“Based on what?” Ben shot back. “One of your visions?”

“Exactly.” Anakin took a step closer to Ben. “One of my visions.”

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, and Allana got the distinct feeling of being pressed against a pane of transparisteel, trying in vain to reach something vital on the other side. She didn’t know what it was she was missing, exactly, only that it was important.

“You know we need to go,” Anakin said, his voice quiet but intense.

Ben glanced at Allana; she was surprised to see concern in his eyes. Why would he be worried about her right now? Unless it wasn’t actually her that he was worried about. Her stomach churned as she realized what that look meant.

“Davin and Dolan,” she said. “They’re on Tatooine?”

Ben swallowed hard and nodded. Allana looked back and forth between him and Anakin.

“Well, shouldn’t we go now?” she said.

“Yes,” Anakin said, but Ben was already shaking his head.

“Why not?” Allana asked, eyes narrowing a fraction at her cousin.

Ben turned to her, and she already knew what was coming. “I’ll go, but you are staying here.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off with an abrupt wave of his hand. “No. I don’t care how much you hate me for it, I am not putting you in danger, not when the boys are already at risk.” He looked up at Anakin and jerked his head in the direction of the hangar. “Let’s go.”

Allana felt tears warming her eyes as every separation, every excuse, every false promise came back to her. “Ben, wait!” She tried to go after him but was stopped by Anakin’s hand on her shoulder.

“Please stay,” he said. There was a slight tremor in his voice that Allana couldn’t ignore. As angry as she was at Ben, as hurt as she was that he was leaving her behind again, she began to feel the first stirrings of doubt.

“Okay,” she said, rubbing her eyes quickly to erase any evidence of tears. “But be careful.”

Anakin gave her half a smile before hurrying after Ben. As the two men turned toward the hangar, she saw her cousin look back at her. Part of her wanted to wave or smile or shout at him to stay safe. But she couldn’t make herself do anything but cross her arms and stare at him. He tilted his head to one side, and then he was gone, and Anakin with him.

Arden was on top of the Daybreak holding a panel in place for Syal when she saw Ben Skywalker and Anakin-the-crazy-stowaway jogging across the hangar toward them. Well, maybe jogging wasn’t the best word for what Anakin was doing. More like labored shuffling, but that was probably normal when one had a hole in his side that even bacta couldn’t quickly heal. She’d heard the mysterious Jedi was unconscious for a day and a half after the healers worked on him, and that he’d spent part of that time thrashing about, muttering things that were too garbled to be deciphered.

Below her, Elias emerged from the ship and met them at the bottom of the ramp. She leaned forward to get a better look and noticed that Syal was doing the same.

“Is the Daybreak ready to go?” Ben was saying.

Elias wiped his hands on a rag. “All the major repairs are done. We were just working on some modifications to the controls.”

“Modifications?” Ben looked up to where Arden and Syal were perched. “I didn’t think you were going to completely change my ship.”

Syal made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a snort. “You’ve never cared that much about this ship. What’s going on?”

Ben’s expression was stern. “I’m leaving, and I need the ship to be ready now.”

Arden and Syal exchanged a worried look. “It’ll be a couple of hours before I can finish,” the older woman said.

Anakin looked more curious than worried. “How much external work do you have left?”

Arden glanced down at the panel she was holding. This was the last thing they had to do outside the ship, but Syal still had to do some recalibrations and other technical stuff that Arden didn’t have terms for.

Syal frowned at Anakin. “We’re almost done out here, just a few minutes. Why?”

Anakin turned to Ben, and she heard him say, “It’s fine. I can finish the modifications in hyperspace.”

Syal was clearly appalled to hear this. “You haven’t even seen what I did!”

Anakin glanced up at her. “It’s not a problem, believe me.”

“Oh, believe you, okay.” Syal rolled her eyes. “Ben, I’ll have her ready in less than two hours.”

But Ben was staring at Anakin, a faint smile on his lips. Arden thought maybe he was almost as crazy as Anakin.

“No, Syal. We have to go now.” Ben finally looked up at her. “But thank you. If you could get the hull patched up, we’ll get out of your hair.” He and Anakin disappeared from view, heading into the ship.

Elias rubbed the back of his head, then craned his neck to meet Arden’s gaze. She shook her head. “What was that about?”

Elias shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I think we might be tagging along. Come on in when you’re done?”

Arden nodded. “See you in a few.” When she looked back over at Syal she saw the older woman shaking her head.

“Damn Jedi think they’re all born mechanics and starpilots,” she grumbled. “I’m an Antilles. Starships are in my blood!”

Arden tried to placate her with a smile. “I think you’re doing a great job.”

“You’re just being nice,” Syal said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. Here, hold that steady while I finish welding.”

Arden did as instructed, and within a few minutes Syal had finished the patch. They climbed down through the ship’s top hatch and met the others in the cockpit. Ben and Elias were readying the ship for launch while Anakin lay on his back between the pilot’s and co-pilot’s chairs, fiddling with some wires under the main control panel.

“So where are we going?” Arden asked.

Ben raised one eyebrow. “We?”

“Well, yeah.” Arden folded her arms across her chest. “Am I not still part of your crew, Captain?”

Ben smirked. “I guess you are. We’re going to Tatooine.”

Arden had heard of the desert planet that was once home to Luke Skywalker, but she’d never been there. She didn’t imagine there were many who would want to go there. “What’s on Tatooine?”

“One of our enclaves,” Elias answered as he dropped into the co-pilot’s seat.

“Ben!”

Arden looked behind her and saw a blonde woman with a distinct scar on her forehead walking down the corridor. Just behind her was one of the Jedi from the Vjun mission – Valin, maybe? It was the woman who had spoken.

“Allana commed me; she said the Tatooine Jedi are in danger?” The woman’s eyes widened as she spread her palms. “What’s going on?”

Ben had one hand on the back of the pilot’s seat. He glanced down at Anakin, who had stopped what he was doing and propped himself up on one elbow. “A disturbance in the Force,” Ben said steadily. “We’re going to check it out.”

“Then I’m going with you,” the woman said.

“Me, too,” Valin added.

Ben looked around at the cockpit that was practically bursting with people. “That’s not necessary. I’ve already got these three.” He gestured to indicate Arden, Elias, and Anakin.

“My children are on Tatooine,” Valin said. “Of course I’m going.”

“It’s not up for debate,” the blonde woman said in a tone that brooked no room for argument. “We’re all going.”

Syal raised a hand and started to inch toward the doorway. “I’m not. I just came to see if you’d change your mind about… this.” She pointed at the mess of wires hanging near Anakin’s head. Or maybe she was actually pointing at Anakin. Arden couldn’t be sure.

Ben offered Syal a patient smile. “We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“How can I not?” Syal muttered as she backed out of the cockpit. She put a hand on Valin’s shoulder as he brushed past him. “Give Savl and Carin hugs for me.”

Valin smiled. “I will.” He reached up to squeeze her hand before she left them.

Arden was a little sad to see Syal go. After working with her for a day and a half she realized she really did like the Antilles sisters. They weren’t Jedi, but many of their closest friends and allies were; and if they could do all right surrounded by Force-users, maybe Arden could, too.

Beneath her she felt the deck rumble as the engines came to life. Ben’s fingers flew over the controls. “Everyone grab a seat,” he said. “We’re out of here.”

Arden sat down behind Elias, but she found her eyes drawn to the mysterious Jedi stowaway, who had stopped what he was doing under the control panel and was staring off into space. There was something hard in his expression, the same look she’d seen on the captain’s face so many times over the last six months. The one that had always scared her a little. She shivered and looked away.

As the Daybreak lifted into the air, she couldn’t help wondering what was waiting for them on Tatooine, and if it was possible they were bringing something worse with them.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen

Anakin spent almost the entire trip to Tatooine tinkering with the Daybreak’s various systems. Fixing the controls, even with the hyperdrive engaged, had been easy. He’d had to make similar recalibrations about a year ago on a mission deep in Separatist territory. After the controls he’d moved on to the nav system, then the atmospheric regulators. No one bothered him while he worked, and for that he was grateful. He needed to use his hands. He needed to keep his mind busy. He needed to block out the constant ache in his side and forget about the circumstances that had led to his injuries.

At one point he could feel Tahiri Veila’s eyes on him, like she was waiting for something. Did she know the truth about Darth Krayt? No, of course not. Hadn’t Krayt – Jacen – said as much when he revealed himself? Ben hadn’t told anyone the truth.

The pain in his side overtook him for a few seconds, and he gritted his teeth to get through it. So much for keeping his mind on his work. He pushed the atmospheric control panel back into the wall and picked up Ben’s tool kit. By now they would be nearing Tatooine, and if his former homeworld wasn’t enough to set him on edge, then the memory of his Force vision was.

Anakin stowed the tools in the main corridor and made his way to the cockpit. When the door opened, he was greeted with the sight of the brown desert planet in all its ingloriousness. Ben and Elias were seated, and Tahiri and Arden had taken the chairs behind them.

“I definitely sense a disturbance down there,” Tahiri said, leaning forward to hover over Ben’s shoulder. “You’re sure the Tuskens are behind this?”

Ben hesitated a second before saying, “We’ll find out soon enough.”

Elias looked over at Ben. “How far from the camp should we set down?”

It wasn’t Ben who answered, but Tahiri. “The usual distance. I don’t sense any danger from the enclave, and if we get too close to the chaos, we might spook the Tuskens and make things worse.”

Anakin remembered how long it had taken to get to the camp last time he’d been here, and the thought of waiting that long to find out what was happening made his skin crawl. Didn’t Ben realize how urgent this was? Didn’t any of them?

He suffered in silence, though, because as much as he wanted to park this ship next to the camp and rush in there lightsaber blazing, he knew Tahiri was right about spooking the Sand People.

His lightsaber. He’d completely forgotten that it was missing. He tried not to think of what Obi-Wan would say, because that made him think of the lonely little hut at the edge of the Dune Sea.

Anakin edged past Tahiri and leaned over Ben’s other shoulder. “What happened to my lightsaber? When I woke up in the medbay they said I never had it with me.”

Ben looked a little startled, then slightly guilty. “You don’t remember?”

Anakin felt a pit open up in his stomach. “Remember what?”

Ben’s eyes met his. “You lost it on Vjun. When we snagged you off that cliff it was already gone.”

So that was it, then. His lightsaber was lost, his robes were back at Haven. Literally the only things he had left of his own were the boots on his feet. The last connection to the galaxy and time he had come from.

Anakin moved to the rear of the cockpit. Maybe it was better this way. Without his lightsaber he’d have one less weapon to hurt anyone with.

“Let her go, Anakin!”

He braced himself against the open doorway. What had Padmé thought of him in those last seconds before blacking out? How terrified had she been as he squeezed the life out of her? He couldn’t breathe picturing it, and he realized he was going to be sick.

Anakin got to the fresher just in time, but since he hadn’t really eaten anything for a couple of days, there wasn’t much to come back up. When it was over, he washed his face and spent several minutes just staring at his reflection in the mirror.

Monster, he thought.

There was a knock on the fresher door. “You okay in there?” Valin Horn asked. Anakin wiped his face and opened the door, brushing past the older man as he headed for the ship’s main hatch. It was still closed, so he sat down on the floor cross-legged and leaned forward to cover his head with his hands.

He swore he could feel the heat from the planet radiating through the hull of the ship. For a split-second he wished he could just catch fire, burn up until there was only ash, fade into nothingness. That brief agony he would gladly endure so as not to feel the pure torture of knowing what he had done to his wife and to the children in the Jedi Temple. And then the second was over, and he reminded himself that this was the only acceptable penance: to live with the knowledge of what he’d done in this world, to feel every ounce of pain, to know that if he hadn’t been ripped from the past, he would have become a monster.

Maybe I’ve been one all along.

The click of the hatch opening startled him from his thoughts, and as he looked up behind him, he saw the others walking toward him. Ben was carrying a thin, gray jacket, which he tossed at Anakin.

“Wouldn’t want you to get sunburnt,” Ben said. Anakin caught the jacket and slid his bare arms into the sleeves.

“Thanks,” he muttered, standing up. He followed the group down the ramp and found a banged up old speeder waiting for them. The pilot was the same tan, dark-haired girl – Kala Di – who had met them last time. Unlike last time, her face was grim.

“Mom got your message,” she said, glancing at the group assembled behind Ben. “We should definitely leave the Daybreak here. I can take whoever wants to go to the enclave.”

Ben nodded, eyes scanning the horizon. “What’s happening?”

“The Sand People attacked a small settlement a few hours after you talked to Mom. We’re safe for now. I’ll explain on the way.” She climbed into the driver’s seat and waited for them to decide who was making the trip.

Tahiri spoke up first. “How far are the Tuskens from the enclave?”

“Several kilometers, at least,” Kala Di replied.

Tahiri seemed to consider the answer a moment before turning back to face the rest of the group. “Elias, you and Arden stay with the ship. The rest of us will go.”

Elias nodded, taking Arden’s hand in his. “You got it, Master.”

Anakin climbed into the backseat with Valin and Tahiri, sitting directly behind Ben. Kala Di shot off as fast as the speeder would allow. Even though the journey to the camp was no more than half an hour, it seemed to stretch on and on. The twin suns were high in the sky, baking them without mercy. Anakin found himself belatedly grateful for the jacket Ben had offered him.

When they arrived at the edge of the camp, Anakin noticed right away that he couldn’t hear the children at all. He felt them, however, huddling silently in their tents. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Karanya running toward them.

“Thank the Force!” she said. “We have no idea what started it, but the Sand People are attacking settlers. I sensed a disturbance in the Force, and not long after we heard about it over the local comm channels. They haven’t gotten close to us yet, but we need to be prepared.”

“Thank you, Karanya,” Tahiri said. She indicated Valin next to her. “Could you take us to check on Valin’s kids and the twins? Then we can help you with the rest of the younglings.”

“Of course,” Karanya replied, still looking concerned. “But what about the settlers?”

Anakin watched as Ben and Tahiri shared a sad but knowing look.

“Right now,” Ben said, “there’s nothing we can do for them.”

“The protection of this enclave has to be our first priority,” Tahiri added.

Even under the burning Tatooine suns, Anakin felt suddenly cold. “You’re not even going to try to help?”

Tahiri looked like she was about to answer him, but instead she turned back to Ben. “Comm if you need anything. I’ll let you know how the boys are doing.”

“Thanks.” Ben waited until Tahiri, Valin, and Karanya had gone before answering Anakin. “It’s too risky,” he finally said.

Anakin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Risky how? We’re Jedi, they’re not. We could stop them easily.”

Ben laughed, but it was a laugh completely devoid of mirth. “Easily? You think so? Huh.” He shook his head. “Even if that were the case, it doesn’t help us with our other problem – exposure.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we go after the Sand People, we might as well broadcast our presence to the entire planet. How long after that before the Sith are on our tails again?” Ben took a deep breath. “Just trust me on this, Anakin. This is my world, my time. I know what I’m talking about.”

Anakin wanted so badly to ignore Ben and run off to the settlers’ rescue, but he forced himself not to act on that instinct. If he wanted to change – if he wanted a chance at redemption – he had to stop relying on his passion all the time, rushing headfirst into situations. Be more detached, like Ben.

“Fine,” he muttered. “What are we supposed to do, then?”

Ben looked out at the horizon. “We wait and see if they spot us.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at Anakin. “I think I’ll try meditating for a bit. Want to join me?”

Anakin scowled and broke eye contact. “No, thanks.”

Ben gave him a look that Anakin could only classify as suspicious. His grandson sat down in the hot sand and closed his eyes. Anakin took a few steps away from Ben, and then he, too, sat down. His eyes roamed the camp before turning toward the open desert.

He could feel them out there, the settlers and the Tuskens. Farmers and their families fleeing in terror, only to be cut down. He felt their pain, their despair. It reached deep inside him, dredging up all the horrors he’d experienced in his lifetime. His mother being beaten by Gardulla’s slave keeper. Watching Qui-Gon’s body burn. The first time he took a life. The searing agony as Dooku’s lightsaber sliced through his arm. Seeing clonetroopers under his command blown to bits and not being able to stop it. There were many more, some he hadn’t even realized were there.

He tried to block out the pain, but instead of drawing away from the conflict in the desert, he found himself focusing on the other side of it. The Tusken Raiders’ anger and hatred was almost as intense as the settlers’ fear. At first Anakin recoiled from that hate, but it, too, called to something rooted even deeper inside him. For every painful memory that came to mind, there was another that inspired his wrath. He had seen so much death in the last three years. Jedi and soldiers senselessly killed by armies of droids. Innocent civilians caught in the crossfire. He hated the Separatists who hid behind those droids. He’d hated the Sith for manipulating the war and trying to bring down the Republic from within.

What a cruel joke it was that Palpatine had been a Sith Lord all along, and that Anakin had become his enforcer. The kind of man who would choke his pregnant wife to death.

Two more memories clawed their way to the surface, despite his efforts. Darth Krayt’s face as he revealed Anakin’s crimes, and the hologram of Padmé pleading with him to turn away from the darkness.

A sound pulled him roughly from his memories. It wasn’t very loud, but Anakin would have known it anywhere. It was forever burned into his brain: the animal-like war cry of the Tusken Raiders. As he regained focus, he realized there was fire on the horizon.

He was on his feet without thinking, running through the camp to the place where the swoop bikes were kept. He barely noticed the pain from his injuries, or the fact that Ben was right behind him, shouting something he couldn’t hear. It didn’t matter anymore; he was done pretending he could be some stoic Jedi who let others dictate who lived and who died. He may not have been able to save Padmé, or Luke, or Leia, or the rest of his family. But he could save the settlers who were being massacred. That he could control.

He could only find one swoop, and it was tied to a stake at the edge of the camp. Smoke from the fires had begun to waft through the tents.

“Hey!”

Anakin spun around to find Ben about a body’s length away. Now that he’d stopped running, his wounds seemed a lot worse. Each breath brought a new stab of pain.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ben said.

Anakin started to turn toward the swoop. “I’m going to help them.”

“No, you’re not.” Ben reached out and grabbed Anakin roughly by the arm. “You can’t give away our position.”

Anakin looked at Ben in surprised disgust. “You’d rather let those farmers die? That’s who we’re supposed to protect!”

“I’m supposed to protect the Jedi. That means no helping, not against the Sand People, not against anyone when it could mean bringing the Empire down on these children.”

The smoke had grown thicker, and the smell of it was making Anakin nauseous. He could feel the throb of blood against the insides of his wounds, and he wondered for a moment if they might split open again.

“I can protect them,” Anakin insisted. “I’ve fought the Tuskens before.”

“I don’t care what you think you can do. We’re staying here, and that’s final.” Ben turned away and began to walk back toward the enclave. A small crowd was starting to form at the edge of the encampment, no doubt drawn by the arguing and the anger they sensed. Anakin held his ground.

Ben walked several paces before he seemed to realize Anakin wasn’t following him. Ben stopped, and as he did so, Anakin noticed the apprehension on the faces of the other Jedi. Finally, his grandson turned toward him and stared.

Anakin swallowed what little moisture remained in his mouth. “I’m going, Ben. And that’s final.”

Ben narrowed his eyes and crossed the distance between them in the space of a few heartbeats. Keeping his voice low, Ben leaned close to Anakin. “You’d put us all in danger, then?”

Anakin looked past Ben at the crowd, which was steadily growing bigger. “The only people in danger are out there.” He gestured toward the smoke on the horizon. “Do you really think they’ll turn us in if we save them?”

An icy expression crossed Ben’s face. He stared directly into Anakin’s eyes. “I know they will.”

Anakin bit his tongue and shook his head before turning toward the horizon. The wind gusted around him, bringing with it the smell – real or imagined, he couldn’t say – of carnage. “You’re wrong,” he said. “And I’m going.”

Anakin backed up a few steps before turning away from Ben and the Jedi. He winced with each step, but around him the Force was crackling with energy, with anticipation. He knew what he had to do, and nothing was going to get in his way. Not his injuries, and not Ben.

He was almost to the swoop bike when Ben called out after him.

“You think that’ll be the end of it? Kill one group of Sand People and that’s it? Job well done, no repercussions?”

Anakin closed his eyes and tried to imagine Ben’s words were a wave breaking against him.

“It doesn’t end there,” Ben continued bitterly, his voice loud enough for the other Jedi to hear. “They’ll keep coming after you, and you’ll have to keep killing them. And what do you do once you’re finished? Go to their villages and kill their women and children? Hunt down each and every clan?”

The words were a wave, but instead of breaking against him they were drowning him; and all he could hear now were the strangled, grunting cries of Tusken men, women, and children as they fell under his blade. And try as he might to forget why he’d done it, why he’d slaughtered an entire camp instead of escaping into the night with his mother’s body, the only thing he could focus on was the guilt and the rage and the fact that Ben was forcing him to remember it.

“Coward,” he muttered.

Ben’s response was sharp. “What was that?”

Anakin turned back toward the encampment and glared at Ben. “I said you’re a coward.”

There was an eerie hush as Ben once again closed the gap between them. “You can call me whatever you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you want revenge, and you think this is the way to get it.”

Anakin shook his head. “What revenge? This is about saving people!”

Ben gestured wildly in the air, his hands coming close to Anakin’s face. “This is about you taking out your anger on the Sand People because you lost the fight on Vjun! This is about your mother and your wife and everyone you ever lost, and for some reason you think murdering Sand People is going to magically make it all better!”

Anakin went blank for a moment, all thought seared out of him by the precision laser strike of Ben’s words, leaving him deaf and dumb beneath the oppressive heat of the twin suns. The seconds stretched on, and he felt himself heavy with sweat and fury and more pain than he knew what to do with. Then he did the first thing that popped into his head.

He planted both hands on Ben’s chest and shoved him backward as hard as he could.

As he reeled from the attack, Ben looked straight into Anakin’s eyes, completely stunned.

Anakin stood with fists clenched at his sides, the gate that held back his rage swinging wide open. “I am not a murderer.”

Ben’s fingers hovered near the hilt of his lightsaber as he fought to regain his composure. His expression darkened. “I’m sure Darth Vader said the same thing once.”

Anakin snarled and threw up his hands, sending a blast of energy at Ben. The other man countered with equal effort, kicking up sand in every direction. The Jedi at the edge of the enclave gasped; some of the younger ones cried out in horror. As the sand settled, Anakin and Ben collided, each trying to wrestle the other to the ground.

They grappled with each other for several fruitless seconds. Anakin tried to use his greater height and weight to bring Ben down, but his wounds kept him from pressing the advantage. Ben butted his head against Anakin’s shoulder, grunting as he worked to stay on his feet. “You think… this is the way… to keep from turning?”

Anakin managed to get under Ben and flip him over; but in the process he lost his balance on the shifting sands, and they both went down. Before he could get up, Ben tackled him, shoving his face into the sand. Anakin used the Force to propel himself upward in a quick burst, knocking Ben hard on his back. Anakin fell face up next to him, and for a moment he was blinded as he looked almost directly into one of the suns.

His vision cleared just in time for him to see Ben raising a fist. Pain from his injuries flooded his senses, but he ignored it and lifted both hands to block, catching Ben’s fist and twisting his arm to deflect the blow. Then a new pain flowered across his jaw as Ben’s other fist made contact. Anakin let go and raised his hands to defend himself; as he did so, something hit him in the side, and he thought for sure he’d just been ripped open.

“How does it feel?” Ben screamed at him. He climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. Then he reached down and grabbed Anakin by the collar, yanking his head and torso off the sand. “Do you feel powerful now?”

Anakin tried to pry his jacket from Ben’s grasp. “Do you?” he spat out. Ben’s face contorted at those words, and he raised his fist again. Anakin looked into Ben’s eyes and smiled bitterly, tasting blood. “Go ahead,” he said.

Ben hesitated for a moment, but then he gripped Anakin tighter and punched him hard, over and over. Anakin stopped trying to fight. This was what he deserved, after all.

“Enough!”

Tahiri Veila’s voice carried across the sands to every Jedi and child listening. Ben’s body was partially blocking his view, but Anakin could see her standing at the edge of the enclave, parting the sea of onlookers. Her blonde hair was loose around her face; blowing wildly in the breeze, it gave her the air of a woman gone mad.

She left the others behind, stopping when she reached Anakin and Ben. “Enough,” she repeated, quieter this time.

Ben climbed off of Anakin and collapsed on the sand next to him. Tahiri crouched down near them.

“Look at you both,” she said, her voice sharp and low enough that only they could hear. “You’re Jedi Knights, and they’re all watching.” She looked back at the crowd and sighed, shaking her head. Her anger drained away, leaving behind the bitter taint of disappointment.

“I expected more from the blood of Luke Skywalker.”

Anakin’s stomach twisted at her words, and he couldn’t suppress the sob that rose up in his throat. Beside him, Ben stared at the horizon. The fire was growing brighter.

Tahiri stood up, but instead of returning to the camp she headed toward the swoop bike. All around them the air grew still.

“You’re going alone?” Ben said quietly as Tahiri mounted the swoop.

She looked back at them, first at Anakin and then at Ben. “I have battled Yuuzhan Vong warriors and Sith Lords. I think I can walk safely among my own people.” She gunned the engine. “Don’t come after me. I’ll be back by nightfall.” And with a burst of sand she was gone, speeding toward the fires in the distance.

Anakin lay still on the sand, listening to the frightened whispers of the other Jedi. His last awareness before passing out was of the intense heat and the feel of several pairs of arms carrying him away.

About an hour before nightfall, the fires that had blazed in the distance finally subsided, and though the blight that the massacre had left on the Force was still easily felt, it had lost some of its intensity. Ben took that to mean Tahiri had succeeded in making the Sand People halt their attack. While he was relieved that no more settlers would die tonight, he knew what that meant for the Jedi enclave. This would probably be their last night on Tatooine.

Ben trudged up a sand dune just southwest of the camp and spotted who he was looking for. Anakin was sitting atop a narrow, rocky ridge that jutted out of the dune for a few meters before vanishing under the sand. Ben climbed the rest of the way up to the ridge and stopped a couple of meters behind Anakin.

“Karanya’s looking for you,” he said. “She said you’re supposed to be resting.”

Anakin kept his back to him. “I am resting.”

Ben pursed his lips. “In a bed. Not traversing the desert.”

“I’m fine.”

That was a lie if he’d ever heard one. Ben took a few steps forward and sat down next to Anakin. His grandfather was watching the suns as they began to sink below the far-off dunes. The wind was cooler tonight, cooler than he had ever remembered it, but that might have had more to do with the residual darkness that tainted the air than with the actual weather. Ben leaned forward and used his index finger to draw little circles in the dirt.

“I think you bring out the worst in me,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on the circles. “Not you, exactly, but the idea of you.”

Next to him, Anakin shifted. “What a relief.”

Ben supposed he deserved the sarcasm. “I’m sorry,” he said even though the apology sounded feeble to his own ears. “I shouldn’t have… I wasn’t…” He sighed and gave up trying to find the right words, the kind of words that would magically absolve him of all wrongdoing. Instead, he and Anakin sat in silence for several minutes, eyes on the horizon.

When Anakin spoke again, the bitterness had drained from his voice, leaving only resignation in its wake. “You shouldn’t be sorry,” he said. “You were right about me. I am a murderer.”

Ben was startled by this admission. Deep down he still had a hard time separating this Anakin from the one who had lived as Darth Vader, but his grandfather seemed to be internalizing that connection to an even greater extent. “You’re not a murderer, Anakin. You aren’t—”

“I am, Ben. And I’m not talking about what I did as Vader.”

If the air had seemed cool before, it was downright chilly now. “Then what are you talking about?”

Anakin kept his gaze forward. “Before, I told you I’d fought the Tusken Raiders, but that’s only partly true. My mother was kidnapped by a tribe of them, and when I went to rescue her, she died in my arms. I could have left the way I came, without anyone noticing. Instead, I fought my way out. And when I didn’t have to fight anymore, I decided to make the rest of them pay. I murdered the entire tribe.”

Ben stared down at the circles he’d drawn.

—her mind calling out to his, telling him to go, to leave her behind—

—a wave of hatred meets a wall of light as the Sith break through, surrounding her—

—I love you, Ben—

—one last mental touch before he loses her forever—

He realized he was digging his fingers into the ground. “They killed your mom,” he said, barely a whisper.

“I killed mothers, too. And children.”

Ben thought maybe he should be horrified by that revelation, but he wasn’t. What did that say about him? That under the same circumstances he would have done exactly what Anakin did? He had felt the despair and rage that came from losing loved ones, and each time it became harder not to lose control.

“You made a mistake,” Ben said, “and that doesn’t excuse what you did; but it doesn’t make you evil.”

Anakin shook his head. “Last week I executed a defenseless man, an unarmed prisoner. Was that a mistake, too?”

Ben closed his eyes. “Why did you do it?”

“Does it matter?”

There is no why. That’s not the question you should be asking.

They weren’t Jacen’s words, exactly, but he could hear his old master’s voice in the thoughts that flashed through his mind. Jacen used to question him – sometimes relentlessly – about what he knew and how he knew it. It had always frustrated him and challenged him, and at the time he thought it was making him smarter, making him a wiser and more thoughtful Jedi. Now it just seemed like a mess of riddles and questions and half-truths, and he sometimes wondered if there was anything he truly knew.

Does it matter?

“I don’t know,” he answered. And he didn’t, really. He still didn’t know, even after all these years.

Anakin paused, shifting ever so slightly beside him. Flexing his right hand. “He was a Sith Lord. The one who cut off my arm. Palpatine’s apprentice.”

“And he was defenseless?” Ben wasn’t sure he believed that, but maybe it was because he didn’t want to believe it.

Trying to bury your head in the sand again, Skywalker? And what good has that ever done you?

Anakin’s voice wavered slightly. “I had just cut off both his hands and taken his lightsaber. He was an old man, and he was at my mercy, and I cut off his head.” An ugly, bitter laugh scraped its way from his throat. “The Chancellor watched the whole thing. Grooming me, I guess. And I let him.”

Ben didn’t know what to say. He tried to imagine what that must have been like, standing before the Sith Master, being goaded into killing his apprentice… and he realized he’d heard this story before. History really did have a way of repeating itself, and in this case, it wasn’t very subtle.

“This might not make you feel better,” Ben said, “but my dad faced the same situation aboard the second Death Star. And he made the right choice.”

Anakin’s lips curved into something resembling a smile. “I know. I remember you telling me when we were in Obi-Wan’s hut.”

“I didn’t tell you what my dad said to the Emperor.”

For the first time since Ben had arrived, Anakin turned and looked at him. “What did he say?”

It had been one of his favorite stories when he was little. His dad had always tended to focus on the moments after, when Anakin Skywalker had returned to the light; but as much as Ben loved hearing that part, it was Luke Skywalker’s stand against the darkness that stood out to him most.

Ben smiled. “That he was a Jedi Knight, just like his father.”

The two men sat in silence, the rays of the setting suns warming them. Ben thought he saw tears forming in his grandfather’s eyes, but Anakin turned away before he could get a closer look.

“Even at your darkest, your son believed in you. If he could see the good in someone as evil as Darth Vader, then I think you need to try to see the good in yourself. Not just see it, but embrace it. Because I think if you tell yourself you’re a monster, that’s what you’ll become.”

Anakin nodded slowly, drawing in a long, steadying breath. “Earlier you said I bring out the worst in you?”

“I said the idea of you.” Ben’s mouth started to go dry as Anakin looked to him for an explanation. It was so much easier to counsel others than it was to open up about himself. Why was that? What was so hard about admitting when things were hard, when he felt everything building to a boil and wasn’t sure he could contain it anymore? Why did he try to keep it down so deep and then fool himself into thinking it wouldn’t come back up? People used to comment on how alike he and his mom were, sharp and focused, never descending into despair or wallowing in their own tragedy, even when they had every right to. Protecting themselves, like Tahiri said. But he’d never seen Mom lose it like he had, not even when Dad died. What would she think of him now? What would both of them think?

Ben looked away from Anakin, eyes focusing once again on the circles he’d drawn in the dirt. “I used to want to be just like my dad,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. “Like most boys, I guess. Only my dad was a hero, and he was incredible and compassionate and noble, and who wouldn’t want to be like him? But I wasn’t like him, not really. I looked a lot like him, and people always looked at me like they were seeing him; but I knew I would never be him.”

Anakin was very still, listening. Ben thought about stopping there, but he took a deep breath and kept going.

“After a while, I realized I was okay with that. I thought if I wasn’t like my dad, it was because I was more like my mom. She was guarded, but so strong. Not just powerful in the Force, but resilient. It seemed like nothing could knock her down. And she cared about others deeply, even if she was careful in how she showed it.”

Ben tilted his head up, staring out at the suns. Tatoo II was nearly gone; only a sliver of the blood-red sun remained visible above the dunes. Tatoo I had begun to deepen in color, its soft yellow-white glow turning slowly to gold. He closed his eyes, and her face flashed across his vision, as bright and fleeting as the afterimage following a burst of light.

“Sometimes we used to sit together,” he said. “Just like this, in silence, watching the sunset or the sunrise on whatever planet or moon we happened to be on. And I’ve never felt more at peace than I was during those moments, because we understood each other. We didn’t have to talk about all the bad stuff that happened. We could just be.”

Any residual warmth he might have felt from gazing upon the suns left him in that moment, and the cool night air gusted around him.

“But ever since you got here, I can’t help thinking… maybe I’m not like her. Maybe I’m not like either of them. Maybe I’m like you.”

He finally looked at Anakin and found his grandfather’s eyes on him, something nebulous darkening his gaze. “And that frightens you,” Anakin said quietly, with a hint of the earlier resignation.

Ben held onto the breath he’d taken, then released it slowly. “Yes.”

Anakin tilted his head to the side and looked away. “I would say that the worst in you isn’t nearly as bad as the worst in me, but I doubt you’d believe me.”

Ben looked down at the bruises forming on his knuckles. “Probably not.”

Whatever Anakin was going to say next, it was interrupted by the distant whine of a swoop engine. They both turned toward the sound, eyes focusing on a fast-moving smudge on the horizon. It continued to grow larger until Ben could make out Tahiri’s long coat flapping behind her.

“She’s back,” Anakin said.

Ben stood up and brushed the dirt and sand from his pants. “Guess we should get going.”

They climbed down from the ridge and crossed a couple of dunes to get back to the enclave. When they arrived, they found Tahiri already there, speaking with Valin and Karanya. She glanced over at Ben and Anakin as they approached, her eyebrows arching slightly.

Ben pretended not to notice. “How did it go?”

Tahiri looked exhausted but unharmed. “The attack is over and won’t resume,” she said. Ben got the feeling that was all they were going to hear on the subject. “The settlers were grateful,” she continued. “So grateful that I suspect by this time tomorrow all of Tatooine will know we’re here. We have to leave tonight.”

Karanya looked around at the tents that had been her home for a few years now. This wasn’t her homeworld, but Ben knew she’d grown attached to it. “I’ll get Kala Di and Dira, and we’ll gather the younglings,” she said with quiet firmness.

Tahiri turned to Valin. “Get the older kids and start packing up all the equipment.”

“Got it.” Valin and Karanya left to perform their tasks, leaving Ben with Anakin and Tahiri.

She drew in a long breath, as if it was the first truly deep breath she’d taken in a long time. “Ulin is on his way to help us evacuate. Ben, I need you to go through the camp and make sure we don’t leave behind anything that could be used to find us. Elias will be here any minute in the Daybreak. I’ve got a couple of comms to make.”

Ben nodded at Tahiri and watched as she disappeared into the darkness. He’d known this was coming, but it was still hard to accept that he was leaving Tatooine for good this time. He should have been glad to wash his hands of the whole planet – so why did he feel an ache deep in his bones at the thought of saying goodbye?

He looked out at the dark horizon, at the trio of moons already rising high in the sky. He glanced over at Anakin and saw his grandfather gazing at the moons as well. Their eyes met, and something passed between them in the fading light – an understanding born out of years of war, a sort of mutual mental shrug, as if to say, All right, that’s that, time to get moving.

So they did.

Tahiri watched as Ben and Valin finished loading the last of the cargo onto the Daybreak. Most of the children were already aboard the freighter; the rest were filing onto Ulin’s ship, the Happy Ho’Din. The slicer had only just arrived from Nar Shaddaa, and Tahiri suspected he’d been eager to get away from the empty safe house.

“Been a while, Ulin,” she said as the older man strode down the ramp toward her. “Thanks for coming.”

Ulin put his hands in his jacket pockets and shrugged, grinning a little. “I was just waiting for you to call.” He looked over his shoulder at the open hatch. “You sure I’ve got enough room for everyone?”

“We might be a little cramped, but between the Ho’Din and the Daybreak, we’ll make it work.”

His grin widened. “You riding with me?”

Ben was passing behind Ulin at that moment, and he slowed down long enough to raise both eyebrows at Tahiri. She resisted the urge to glare at him.

“I suppose I will,” she answered. She didn’t actively encourage Ulin’s affections, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the attention just a little.

After the children were all settled, the adults congregated in the space between the two ships, with Tahiri at the center. “Thank you for working so quickly,” she said. “Karanya, Valin. You’re with Ulin and me on the Ho’Din. Ben – you take the rest of your crew on the Daybreak. We’re meeting up with Syal and Myri at the Zihrent base.”

“We’re not going back to Haven?” Elias asked.

Tahiri shook her head. “We can’t afford to have so many of us in one place, especially if it’s true the Sith have renewed the Hunt. Haven already took in the kids from Denon. The Zihrent base is practically empty, though, so there will be plenty of room for all of you. It should be an uneventful trip. I’ll send you coordinates once we break atmosphere.”

She hoped it would be uneventful. After everything they’d gone through the last few days, they could use a break. She found her gaze drifting to Ben and Anakin, standing next to each other as though nothing unusual had happened that day. It had been a long time since she’d seen Ben lose control like that. As much as she wished he would talk about it, she knew it would be futile to ask.

Tahiri took a long breath and looked around at the two crews. “May the Force be with you. Now let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen

The Daybreak and the Happy Ho’Din touched down on Zihrent without incident, landing under cover of darkness. Anakin could feel the hangar hidden under a canopy of tall trees. He leaned over Ben’s shoulder as his grandson maneuvered their ship into the hangar. “You guys have a lot of secret bases. I’ve never even heard of this place.”

Ben powered down the engines and flipped a few switches overhead. Additional cabin lights flickered on. “Aunt Leia was very thorough when she took the Order underground. She made contingency plan upon contingency plan.”

Anakin peered out at the enormous tree trunks shielding the base. “Smart.”

“Come on,” Ben said, motioning for Elias and Arden to follow as well. “Let’s get everyone settled.”

The others grabbed their gear while Anakin, who had only a borrowed lightsaber and the clothes on his back, strode down the open ramp to get a better look at their new home.

The hangar was very old, made of huge blocks of gray stone that had been reinforced over time by durasteel supports. A control room overlooking the hangar looked like a relatively new addition; he thought he recognized the faded seal of the Republic above the bank of windows. Under the control room was a large doorway about seven or eight meters wide that probably led into the base. He sensed only two lifeforms in the entire base, not including the occupants of the two freighters.

“No one to meet us?” someone called out from behind him. Anakin turned to see a gray-haired man crossing the distance between the Ho’Din and the Daybreak. He guessed that this was Ulin, the slicer who had piloted the Ho’Din here. Ben, who was walking down the ramp with Arden and Elias, reached out and gave the man a firm handshake.

“Someone’s in there,” Ben said, “but I don’t know who. We’ve never been to this base before.”

“Neither have we,” Valin said as he and his children appeared behind them. Little Carin was staring at Anakin as if he had a second head. He felt a pang of guilt at the realization that she and most of the other children had witnessed his fight with Ben on Tatooine. He wondered what explanation they’d been given. Then he noticed two more familiar faces coming toward him, and the feelings of guilt intensified.

Davin and Dolan walked just ahead of Tahiri, still bleary-eyed from sleep; but they froze when they saw Anakin. At least he thought they were looking at him, although they didn’t run to greet Ben as they had done before, so maybe it was him they were reacting to. Either way, his actions had affected them, and that was bad enough.

Tahiri placed a hand atop each of their heads and ruffled their hair. That small gesture of affection seemed to relax them. “I’ve never been here either, but Leia said she left it in the care of someone with unwavering loyalty.”

As if on cue, two figures appeared in the doorway at the end of the hangar. They were non-human, but it wasn’t until they came closer that Anakin realized he was completely unfamiliar with this species. They were shorter than the average human but more powerfully built; everywhere he looked on them he saw muscle. Their skin was dark gray, and their faces had a somewhat feline aesthetic. Every part of them looked dangerous, especially the needle-sharp teeth that poked out of their mouths.

Anakin noticed that while a few of their companions – Arden, Karanya, and the children – seemed as surprised as he was, the rest of them looked downright pleased to see the base’s inhabitants. To his left, Ben stepped forward to greet them.

“I’m Ben Skywalker,” he said, extending his hand. The taller of the two creatures took his hand and pressed the back of it against his flat nostrils. It – he – let out a happy sigh and released Ben’s hand.

“We are pleased to welcome you to Zihrent, Ben Skywalker, son of Luke. I am Deekmawr clan Eikh’mir, and this is my companion, Matabakh clan Kihm’bar. We are here to serve you and the Jedi in any way possible.”

“Thank you, Deekmawr,” Ben said. “Right now we need food and a place for our younglings to sleep. We’re also expecting another group of Jedi within the hour. I don’t know what your supply situation is?”

Deekmawr grimaced – at least that’s what it looked like, although his tone was nonplussed. “We have plenty for all. Please allow us to escort you inside.”

By now the occupants of both ships had joined them, forming a dense semi-circle around their hosts. Deekmawr and Ben had turned to go into the base, and the displaced Jedi began to follow. As he started forward, Anakin noticed Matabakh sniff the air and then look at him out of the corner of his – or her – eye. He waited until Matabakh looked away before moving again.

The rest of the base appeared to be as old as the hangar, if not older. Deekmawr and Matabakh led them down several winding corridors before stopping at the entrance to a large room where tables had been set up in long, narrow rows. The mess hall, most likely. There were hallways branching off from each corner of the room. Deekmawr pointed to the hallway opposite them.

“Sleeping quarters are that way. The other two paths will take you to training facilities and spare rooms for any purpose.” He looked at the children. “After your younglings are settled, we can show you to the council room and the command center.”

Ben looked impressed and mildly amused. “We haven’t had an official council room in years.”

“The Mal’ary’ush wanted the Jedi to be equipped to survive, but also to remember.”

It sounded a little cryptic, but Anakin thought he understood what the gray alien meant.

Tahiri stepped forward, still holding Davin and Dolan’s hands. “Thank you both for watching over this place. I think we’ll get some food for the kids and then let them rest.”

Karanya and her children helped guide the younglings to the closest set of tables while Valin and Tahiri went with Matabakh to get the food. Anakin hung back with Elias, Arden, and Ulin. Ben was conversing quietly with Deekmawr.

“So, what now?” Anakin heard Arden say to Elias.

“Now we enjoy our new home until Ben or the Council tell us it’s time to go,” Elias said.

“I won’t complain about being out of danger, but after the last week it seems kind of… boring? For the Jedi, anyway?”

Anakin surprised himself by butting into the conversation. “You’d be amazed at how boring the Jedi can be.” And in that moment, he realized that he actually missed the Order, the one he’d grown up in. He missed the tranquility of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He missed the lectures on Jedi history that seemed so useless to a young boy who’d blown up a starship by age nine. He missed the way he used to see Jedi meditating all over the Temple, like they could find peace anywhere, even amidst a group of rowdy Padawans playing ball. His Order wasn’t perfect, and it had driven him crazy sometimes with all its rules and traditions; but it had in many ways been his family. And he had betrayed them.

Anakin shook his head to clear it. Elias was describing to Arden just how boring Jedi training could be, while Ulin edged closer to the tables. Tahiri, Valin, and Matabakh were returning with trays and a couple of pots.

“Younglings first,” Tahiri said, eyeing Ulin. “You’ll get your turn, old man.”

Ulin chuckled and held his hands up in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

Anakin waited until everyone had been served before taking a tray. One pot contained some sort of stew; the other looked like a variety of rice. Anakin took a helping of each and looked around at the seated Jedi. The ones who weren’t busy inhaling their food were engaged in lively conversation. Children laughing, joking around. Adults looking relieved to be safe and to see the kids smiling. The muscles in his chest tightened. He didn’t belong here with them.

Without a word, he slipped out of the mess hall and began to navigate the network of corridors that had brought him here.

“Master Veila.” The voice was a soft purr at her elbow. Tahiri put down her spoon and shifted so she could better see the speaker.

“Matabakh,” she said. “How can I help you?”

The Noghri woman shuffled closer. “You wanted to know when the other Jedi arrived.”

Tahiri looked instinctively toward the exit, then back at Matabakh. “They’re here?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She reached out with her senses, and sure enough she sensed a ship approaching the hangar. A little nudge in the Force was all it took to get Ben’s attention and motion for him to join her.

“So,” she said once he was within earshot, “do you want to be the welcoming committee, or shall I?”

Ben glanced down at the twins seated next to her. “I guess I’ll go. You stay and finish your meal.”

It was truly fascinating how well children could eavesdrop even when they were deep in conversation.

“No, Ben! Stay here!” Davin’s attempts to retain Ben were aided by Dolan, who tugged none too gently on the hem of Ben’s jacket. “Please!” the boys said in unison.

Even though he tried not to show it, Tahiri could see how happy Ben was to be at the center of his cousins’ affections again. “I’ll go greet the newcomers,” she said with a smile.

Ben looked up at her as he sat down between the twins. “Thanks,” he said.

Tahiri shrugged. “No problem.” She followed Matabakh back to the hangar and waited while the newly arrived ship set down behind the Daybreak and the Ho’Din. Once the steam had settled, she trekked across the hangar, the Noghri guard still at her side. They reached the ship as its ramp opened; on the other side was Myri Antilles.

The younger woman came down the ramp and pulled Tahiri into a hug. “Long time no see, eh?” she said, winking for good measure.

Tahiri grinned. “Well, to be fair, we didn’t get much downtime back at Haven.”

“She’s just giving you a hard time,” Syal Antilles called down from the top of the ramp.

“I can handle it,” Tahiri replied. “So you brought the Force-sensitive children and left the Denon younglings with Jysella, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am, that is correct.” Myri tilted her cap to the side and pulled it down snug on her head. “And we brought a few surprise guests.”

Tahiri looked skyward and pretended to think. “Hm, I wonder. You wouldn’t be talking about Geridan Ames, Tredo Kohr, and Allana Djo, would you?”

Myri whistled. “Very good!”

Tahiri tapped a finger against her left temple. “They didn’t make me a Jedi Master for nothing.” She glanced up at the ship. “How is Kohr, by the way?”

“Doing much better,” Myri said.

“Yeah,” Syal interjected as she joined them at the bottom of the ramp. “So much so that he wanted to fly the ship. Ha!”

“He still needs rest, though,” Myri added. “Orion said that was the one condition for bringing him here, that he had to get plenty of rest.”

Tahiri nodded. “I think we could all do with some rest. Come on; let’s unload your passengers and join everyone else in the mess hall.”

Behind her, Tahiri heard Matabakh make a soft, grunting noise. Then she realized Allana was striding down the ramp. The Noghri moved forward and bowed in front of her.

“Welcome, Princess Allana, granddaughter of the Lady Vader.” When Allana extended her hand, Matabakh took it and breathed her scent in deep. Satisfied, the Noghri woman released Allana’s hand. “I am Matabakh clan Kihm’bar.”

Allana’s smile was warm and genuine, but also regal. Tahiri wondered if she had any idea just how much she resembled Tenel Ka. “Thank you, Matabakh. But please, call me Allana. I’m not a princess anymore.”

Matabakh bowed once more. “If you so wish it, Lady Allana.”

The other passengers – Ames, Kohr, and the five non-Jedi younglings who’d been rescued from Vjun – had assembled behind Syal and Myri, waiting.

“All right, kids,” Myri said. “Ready to get some food?”

No answer, but there were smiles on two out of five faces, which wasn’t a bad start. Tahiri and Matabakh led them all to the mess hall, where the members of the Tatooine enclave were still gathered. “Help yourselves,” Tahiri said. Kohr and Ames didn’t have to be told twice. In the blink of an eye they were holding food trays, bickering over who got to scoop their stew out first. While Syal and Myri helped the newly-arrived younglings, Allana found her way over to Tahiri’s side.

“So,” she said nonchalantly. “Where’s Anakin?”

Tahiri frowned and scanned the room. “I don’t know. He was here when we started eating.” At least she thought he was. “Maybe I should go look for him—”

“No, no, that’s okay,” Allana said. “I’ll find him. It’s no big deal, I just wanted to say hi.”

Tahiri smiled as Allana turned to walk away, and she thought how sweet it was that even though the girl had no idea who Anakin really was, she was still drawn to him. The Force truly worked in wondrous ways. And if it was the Force that had brought Anakin here, then Tahiri hoped it knew what the hell it was doing.

She found him in a far corner of the hangar, sitting in front of a rusted binary loadlifter, his dinner tray held loosely in both hands. It looked as though he’d barely touched his food. Allana sat down next to him and took a long, conspicuous breath.

He glanced over at her and smirked. “Subtle.”

Allana grinned and nudged his shoulder with hers. “So why aren’t you in the mess hall with the others?”

Anakin looked down at his food and shrugged. “Guess I wanted to be alone.”

“Oh.”

“Hey.” He returned the nudge and smiled at her. “I’m glad for the company.”

Allana played with the hem of her sleeve, smoothing out the creases in the fabric. “I actually came here to thank you,” she said quietly. “For helping me with that Sith. I owe you one.”

She heard the gentle clang of the dinner tray setting down on the duracrete floor. Anakin turned to face her. “Allana, you don’t owe me anything.”

“But I… you saved me.” Didn’t he understand that this was important? “Look, I know there’s not much I can do to repay you, unless I somehow happen to save your life, but I’ve got to at least try, right?”

He stared at her for a few seconds, and she could see something sad behind his smile.

“What?” she said.

“You did save me,” he said. “Twice. You found me on that cliff and came back for me. And inside, when I attacked that boy… you saved me from myself.”

Allana looked away, unsure of how to respond. Okay, sure, maybe she’d helped rescue him from the cliff, but the other thing? She hadn’t really done anything; all she’d done was tell Anakin to stop choking Festus, and anyone could have done that. “It’s no big deal,” she said. “You probably would have stopped on your own.”

“No,” he said, “I wouldn’t have.”

Allana hesitated for a moment. Guess I already knew that, didn’t I? Still, it was a little unnerving to hear him admit it out loud.

“He used to be a Jedi,” she blurted out without fully knowing why. Maybe to steer the subject in a different direction, or maybe because she didn’t like the awkward silence that had crept up between them.

“Who did?” Anakin said.

“That Sith Lord, Darth Festus. Well, I guess he wasn’t technically a Jedi, just one of the kids in the enclaves. I was too young to really know him; I only have one or two memories of him. He and his twin brother were captured by the Sith a long time ago.” She vaguely recalled something about a transfer between enclaves that had gone horribly wrong. “I think I remember him being nice. His brother was kind of a jerk, but he was nice.” Allana paused and took a long, steadying breath. “Sometimes I still can’t believe how much the dark side can change a person.”

The sadness surrounding Anakin grew heavier. “Sometimes the dark side brings out what was always there.”

His words might as well have been a punch in the stomach. “I don’t think I can accept that,” she said, trying to control the waver in her voice. And why couldn’t she accept it? Because she had memories of a good person and couldn’t reconcile them with the monster they’d become? Because she needed to believe redemption was possible, even if the case seemed hopeless?

She realized she wasn’t thinking of Festus anymore, but of another Sith Lord, long gone. Allana pressed her lips together and stared out across the hangar.

“I’m sorry about your father.”

“How—?” Allana snapped her head around to look at Anakin. “How did you know I was thinking about him?”

“It’s who I would have been thinking of.”

Allana shrugged. “It’s been over eight years since he died. And before that I barely knew him. I lived with my mother.”

A twinge of pain amidst the sadness. “But you loved him,” Anakin said quietly.

Allana tried to answer but couldn’t get the words past her lips. She nodded in response.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” She took a deep breath to contain the tears that had crept up on her. “I don’t really talk about my parents much. It makes people uncomfortable.”

“What about Ben?”

Allana looked down at her tunic and went back to playing with her wrinkled sleeve. “Him maybe most of all.”

Anakin leaned over and nudged her again. “Well, you won’t make me uncomfortable. Talk away.”

She felt her cheeks redden. “I don’t know, it’s not like I have some speech prepared or anything like that.” Now that she finally had the space to open up, she was at a loss for what to say.

His eyes lost focus for a moment, as if he was recalling some distant memory. When he looked at her again, his expression was warm, if a little bittersweet. “Tell me about your mother.”

She smiled down into her lap as an image flashed through her mind, unbidden but certainly not unwelcome. Her mother kneeling in front of her, her only hand cupping Allana’s cheek gently as she sang her favorite lullaby. Beautiful copper hair arranged in Dathomiri braids. Fierce gray eyes that softened only for her.

“She was…” A queen. A Jedi Knight. Proud Dathomiri warrior, noble Hapan beauty, stoic and strong and devoted. A hero. She was all those things, and they were all wonderful and important parts of the incredible person who was Tenel Ka Djo. But they were things Allana knew mostly because she’d been told about them. Her own memories were… different. Quieter.

Allana looked up at Anakin. “She used to sing me lullabies every night before bed. They were spells from her mother’s clan on Dathomir – the Singing Mountain Clan.” She caught the slightly puzzled look on Anakin’s face and tried to clarify. “The witches of Dathomir used incantations to channel the Force. My mother trained as a Jedi under my great-uncle Luke, so she didn’t have a need for the spells; but I think the lullabies were her way of teaching me when I was very little. Introducing me to the Force, even though she’d left the Order.”

That seemed to spark Anakin’s interest. “She left the Jedi Order?”

Allana nodded. “She had to put her people first. Hapes needed its Queen Mother.”

She knew she should feel proud of her mother for making that choice, and a small part of her was, truly. She was proud of the strong sense of duty, the unshakable determination that her mother was famous for; and she liked to think that maybe some of those qualities that made Tenel Ka such a fierce queen had been passed on to her daughter. But the choice itself, the choice to leave the Order and focus everything on Hapes – well, it hadn’t exactly worked out in Allana’s favor, had it? She never blamed her mother for everything that went wrong, but she couldn’t help wondering sometimes what it would have been like to be born outside of the shadow of the Hapan court, free of the intrigue and death threats and constant speculation about her paternity.

It would have been nice to be acknowledged as Jacen Solo’s daughter before his name became synonymous with evil.

“A queen, huh?” Anakin lowered his gaze and smiled, laughing a little, as if at his own private joke.

His smile shook her from her attempted melancholy. “What? You don’t believe me?”

He looked up at her, and some of the earlier sadness seemed to fade. “I do believe you. I just think it’s funny.”

Over the last fifteen years, she’d been on the receiving end of a lot of comments regarding her royal heritage – some good, some less than complimentary – but never once had anyone said it was funny.

She must have been making a weird face at him, because his smile widened. “Not you,” he clarified. “I meant the Force, or maybe the cyclical nature of life. I don’t know, it just makes sense. Of course you’d be a princess.”

“I’m not a princess.” She wasn’t like her mother in that way. Hapes had given her a few nice memories in a sea of terrible ones, and she’d never felt a strong sense of loyalty or duty to it or its people. Since they’d exiled her as a child, clearly the feeling was mutual.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin continued, sobering a little. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was thinking of how much like your grandmother you are.”

Allana still wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at or why he was giving so much thought to the Hapan royal family. Her grandmother Teneniel Djo had died before Allana was born, and the less said about her great-grandmother Ta’a Chume, the better—

Oh. He meant Grandma Leia. She relaxed a little and gave him a teasing look. “I guess I can’t go wrong if I remind you of the great Leia Organa Solo.”

“Well, I actually meant your great—” He cut himself off abruptly, an odd look passing over his face. “You know what, never mind.”

She was about to question him further when she caught sight of someone hurrying across the hangar, a friend she hadn’t seen in ages.

“Hey, Kala Di!” Allana waved the older girl over and smiled up at her. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

Kala Di Nal smiled in return as she jogged over and stopped in front of them. The tan, dark-haired girl put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Hanging in there. I was finally getting used to Tatooine.” She looked out toward the open hangar entrance. “But I guess this is more like home, with all the trees.”

Allana leaned toward Anakin. “Kala Di is from Dathomir, same world my mother’s family comes from. Well, her mother’s family, anyway.”

Anakin nodded, looking up at Kala Di. “I grew up on Tatooine. Trust me, you won’t miss it.”

Kala Di acknowledged Anakin with a wary glance and shrugged. “I liked the sunsets.”

“Yeah,” Anakin said a bit wistfully, “I guess they weren’t bad.”

Allana smiled up at her friend. “What’s got you running around in here? I thought everyone was eating?”

Kala Di shifted slightly. “Ben needs something off the Daybreak. He asked me to get it for him.”

Allana fought the devious grin itching at the corners of her mouth. “He asked, or you volunteered?”

The look Kala Di shot her was nothing short of murderous. Her lovely tan cheeks turned pink as she took a step backward. “My mom volunteered me, actually. And I’d better get a move on. Don’t want to keep him waiting.” She turned away quickly and waved over her shoulder, calling out “See you!” in a tone that was a little too cheerful.

Allana noticed Anakin frowning at Kala Di’s retreating form. “What?” she said.

He shook his head. “I feel like I’m missing something here. Does she like Ben?”

Allana let loose the grin she’d been holding back. “Oh, Kala Di adores Ben. She’s been in love with him since we were kids.”

“She’s a little young, isn’t she?”

“I guess, yeah. I mean, she’s nearly eighteen. But it’s not like Ben even notices. He doesn’t really notice anyone that way. Too busy being the protector of the Jedi. Too busy being my protector.” She rolled her eyes a little and shrugged.

That same sadness from earlier started to curl up around Anakin again. “Maybe he’s protecting himself. The more people you love, the more you have to lose. And he’s lost a lot.”

She understood why he would say that, she really did. But Ben didn’t have a monopoly on tragedy, not by a long shot. “We’ve all lost people we love,” she said, a little harder than she meant to.

Anakin paused and shifted next to her. “Did you know I was married before I came here?”

Allana looked up at him, startled. “No. You never mentioned…”

He nodded, hands fidgeting restlessly where they lay in his lap. “I had a wife. We were going to start a family, and then I lost her. I would have done anything to save her. Sometimes I think—” He drew in a long breath, as though preparing for a deep, deep plunge. “—I think that I still would do anything if it meant I could get her back. That kind of devotion… that kind of attachment… it’s dangerous. When you bind yourself to someone else like that, and you can wield so much power… what stops you from deciding her life is worth more than all the others?”

He turned to her then, clear blue eyes burning intense from under his troubled brow. She wasn’t sure if he was asking the question to teach her something, or if he was still searching for the answer himself. She met Anakin’s gaze, and she thought she understood now why every action, every glance, every word he spoke seemed tainted by sorrow. The loss of his wife, of his family, was etched so deep in him that he couldn’t separate himself from it even if he tried.

There was a strange flutter in her chest, and she felt suddenly unbalanced, as though she’d stumbled upon some sort of cosmic tipping point and was teetering on the edge of it. She wondered if Anakin sensed it, too.

“I guess,” she said softly, carefully, “I guess the thing that stops you… is understanding that she’s not worth more. That none of the people we care about are worth any more than all the other people in the galaxy. We’re all a part of the same universe, the same Force, right? And… and even if it might feel like losing someone precious to you is too much to bear, you have to realize that you can survive it, and you can keep moving forward.”

He sighed, and the universe swayed. “It sounds so easy when you say it, but it’s hardly ever that simple.”

We’re just talking, she told herself. That’s all this is.

“I don’t know if it’s simple or not,” she said. “I just know it’s wrong to treat people like they’re expendable, like they’re less important just because they aren’t someone you love.”

He shook his head slowly. “It’s not fair,” he murmured.

Allana stared out across the hangar, at the open door overlooking a forest that was only just beginning to awaken. She leaned her head against Anakin’s shoulder. “I know,” she said gently. “None of it is.”

She felt him tilt his head to rest against hers. “You would have liked her. My wife. And she would have loved you.”

She found his left hand and grasped his fingers in hers, squeezing just a little. “I’m sure I would have loved her, too.”

Once the meal was over and all the children had been taken to their quarters, Ben made his way to the hangar and climbed up on top of the Daybreak, where – with the shield doors open – he had a decent view of a distant, tree-lined hilltop. The sun was just beginning to peek out from behind it. He hadn’t been sitting there long when he felt a familiar presence on the ground behind him. Ben leaned over the back end of the ship to greet his visitor.

“How do you like Jedi living?” he asked wryly.

Arden Veiss craned her neck to look up at him. “It’s definitely interesting, that’s for sure. Mind if I join you?”

He’d been hoping for some solitude, but what the hell. “Come on up.”

A moment later, she appeared through the ship’s top hatch. “Checking out the repairs?”

In truth, he’d forgotten all about the repairs that had been done while they were at Haven. “Nah, just catching the sunrise.”

Arden sat down next to him, not too close but not so far away as to be awkward. “So, what am I supposed to call you now? Master Skywalker? Master Jedi?”

“Ben is fine,” he said with a chuckle.

Arden made a face. “Can I keep calling you ‘Captain’?”

“If you really want to.”

“Sorry, it just feels weird. Being on a first name basis with a living legend.”

Ben winced. “Arden, I’m not a legend.”

“Sure you are. Jedi Knight, outlaw, son of Luke and Mara Skywalker. They used to have a Skywalker Watch on our local news to report sightings.”

Ben raised an eyebrow at her. “Skywalker Watch? They must have had you all pretty terrified of me.”

Arden shrugged. “They called you a terrorist. All of the evidence we saw supported that.” She offered him a small smile. “I know better now.”

“So, you and Elias… you guys are okay then?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s hard to stay mad at someone so adorable.” She hesitated for a moment, inhaling deep as she gazed down at the hull beneath her. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Her eyes found his again. “What happened on Yalena?”

Ben pursed his lips and stared out at the line of trees in the distance. “You want to know why Elias won’t talk about it.”

Arden looked down at her lap, then back up at Ben. “It must have been bad if he can’t even say—”

“It was. It was really bad.”

Arden shifted next to him, and Ben realized he hadn’t actually given her an answer. He bent one knee to his chest and propped an arm on it, leaning forward to run a hand across his chin.

“That Sith Lord on Vjun, Doctor Mezzon? He used to have big time support among the other Lords.” Ben glanced sideways and saw Arden watching him intently. “They gave him whatever he wanted: credits, victims, you name it. Yalena was his fortress. Our mission was to stop him and to rescue the Jedi he’d kidnapped.

“We couldn’t save everyone, but we managed to get most of the kids to our ship. My mom was cut off, surrounded by the Sith. I didn’t realize it until it was too late, but that was their plan all along. They wanted to take down my mom. Figured it would cripple us. And it nearly did.”

Arden let out a long breath, almost as though she’d been holding it. “I’m sorry.”

Ben shrugged, trying to shake off the weight of that terrible day. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s not your fault.”

“So, this Sith doctor – he experimented on the children?”

Ben nodded. “It was pretty horrible. Elias was only sixteen when we went in there. I think it just hurts him too much to remember.”

“And he’s never talked about it? Not even to you?”

“No, I was so focused on my own loss at the time that I wasn’t much help to him. We just threw ourselves into the next mission, and then the next one, and the next one.” Ben gestured toward the rest of the base. “And now here we are seven years later.”

Arden looked down at her hands and clasped them together. “I wish there was something I could do to ease his burden or help him get past the pain.”

Ben shook his head a little and frowned. “Some things I don’t think you ever get past. You learn to live with them, but they never really go away.”

“You don’t think that sounds kinda defeatist for a Jedi?”

“That’s reality,” Ben replied. “Elias may never tell you what he experienced on Yalena, but that doesn’t mean he’s broken, or that he doesn’t trust you. In fact, he’s been pretty happy lately.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Arden’s lips. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Her smile widened, and then she laughed.

“What is it?”

“This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had. Didn’t realize you were such a conversationalist.”

Ben raised an eyebrow and allowed himself a small grin. “I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She hugged her knees to her chest and leaned back. “So, what’s next for all of us here?”

“You mean what’s next for you?”

Arden shrugged. “Both?”

“You don’t have to stay here, you know. Syal and Myri will probably leave soon. Ulin, too.”

Arden’s demeanor went from friendly to reserved. “I get it. Jedi only.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ben said. “All I’m saying is, I know you didn’t sign up to be a Jedi rebel when you joined my crew, and I don’t expect you to stick around. But if you do want to join us, that doesn’t mean you have to stay cooped up in this base, either.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll stay here for now. I didn’t have much going on before I met you guys, and apart from the whole secret Jedi thing, things have been pretty good. Besides, I’m not sure what use I’d be to you on the outside. I’m not a super spy or an ace pilot or a slicer.”

“You’re a decent gunner,” he conceded.

“Well, that settles it. The Daybreak needs me.” She stood up and stretched as the sun’s rays began to illuminate the entire forest. “One last question.”

“Shoot.”

Arden’s grin had disappeared. “What’s going to happen to the kids Myri and Syal brought here, the ones who aren’t Jedi?”

“We’ll try to find their families, but chances are they were already orphans or lost their families to the Sith. So I guess we’ll help them heal and then go from there.” Ben sighed and offered a half-hearted smile. Arden returned it before treading carefully across the hull to the top hatch. As she lowered herself in, she looked back at him.

“She must have been pretty amazing. Your mom.”

“Yeah,” Ben said, his throat tightening around the words. “She was.”

Arden disappeared down the hatch, leaving Ben alone once more. He stared at the open hatch, trying not to go back to Yalena and unable to think of anything else. His mom hadn’t been the only Jedi who died that day, and in light of the horrors he’d witnessed, it seemed almost trivial to prioritize her death over the others; but he couldn’t help it. If he could change one thing about that day – and one thing only – it would be to bring her back.

Was he really so different from Jacen after all?

He laid back flat against the hull, reaching up with both hands to cover his face. I’m sorry, he tried to tell her, unsure if she would hear, if she could hear. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so damn sorry.

He laid there for a long while, letting the sun warm him.

At Allana’s insistence, Anakin went to see Karanya Nal to ensure that his wounds were healing properly. Though not technically a healer, she seemed to possess an aptitude for it. She determined that he would need a few more days of rest and little activity for his injuries to completely heal, but with a fresh application of bacta he was free to go.

Anakin pulled his jacket back on and left the medical center to find Allana waiting patiently just outside the door. When he didn’t say anything, she frowned at him the way his mother used to when admonishing him.

“Well?” she said.

Anakin adjusted the collar of his jacket and tugged the sleeves down so they covered his wrists. “I’m doing better. Should be bandage free in a couple days.” They began to walk side-by-side down the corridor in the direction of the mess hall.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened on Tatooine that got you even more beat up?”

Anakin cringed inwardly. “I wasn’t planning to,” he admitted.

“Don’t trust me, or don’t think I can handle the truth?”

Anakin stopped walking. He was beginning to understand what Obi-Wan must have gone through all those years. Withholding information from a teenager was exhausting. “What do you think happened?” he said, an edge of exasperation seeping into his voice.

Allana had stopped also. “I don’t know,” she said. “That’s why I’m asking you.”

For a moment he considered telling her everything – about the fight with Ben, about being her great-grandfather, about wanting to protect her from the dark side and all the evil in the galaxy.

About her father being alive.

He was spared from answering when he noticed Kala Di Nal jogging toward them. The look she shot Anakin wasn’t exactly friendly, but it was better than the way she’d looked at him in the hangar, like she was expecting him to murder everyone in sight. She didn’t waste much time on him, though, as she turned to speak to Allana.

“You haven’t seen your cousins lately, have you?”

“No,” Allana said slowly. “I haven’t had a chance to see them at all yet. Why, what’s up?”

Kala Di looked more than a little annoyed. “All the younglings are supposed to be resting in their quarters; but I just did a room check, and we’re missing six, including Davin and Dolan.”

“That’s not surprising.” Allana looked up at Anakin. “We’ll help you look. Who else are you missing?”

Kala Di counted them off on her fingers. “Savl Horn, Lomm Vedii from the Tatooine enclave, and two of the kids who arrived with the Antilles sisters. A Togruta girl and a human boy – blond, I think. Both pretty young. I don’t remember their names, just what they looked like.”

Anakin closed his eyes and reached out through the Force. The base really was a labyrinth, but he recalled what Deekmawr had said about a wing of spare rooms. It didn’t take long to find all six of them there, playing in one of those rooms.

“Did you check the north wing?” he asked, opening his eyes.

Kala Di cast an embarrassed glance at Allana before looking up at Anakin. “Which way is north?”

Anakin resisted the urge to shake his head. He supposed that was another effect of his years spent fighting in the Clone Wars, moving from planet to planet. Without thinking about it – and having spent only a few fleeting minutes in view of the surface – he had acclimated himself to Zihrent’s geography and had a fairly clear sense of direction, even while underground.

He turned a little and nodded over his shoulder. “Back that way.”

“Not yet,” Kala Di answered. “Do you sense something?”

Anakin smiled at her. “They’re all there. First room you come to.”

Kala Di sighed. “Thanks. Sometimes being around all these kids makes it hard to focus.” She turned to leave, but Allana reached out to touch her arm.

“Why don’t we go with you? I should say hi to the twins, and you might need help getting all six back to their rooms.”

Anakin saw naked relief in Kala Di’s eyes. “I appreciate it, thanks.”

The three of them made their way to the north wing, and sure enough, the six missing younglings were in the first room. The council room, Anakin realized as the door opened. In the middle of the room, four of the children were arguing over what to play.

“We already played ball,” Valin’s son, Savl, was saying. “I’m bored with that.” Next to him a dark-skinned boy with short, curly hair was nodding in agreement.

Davin and the Togruta girl looked at each other. “Well, we don’t want to play cards, so…”

The four children realized they weren’t alone, and they turned in unison to face the doorway. “Busted,” Savl whispered.

Anakin tried not to grin. He looked around the room and saw Dolan in the far corner with the blond boy. It looked like he was demonstrating how best to throw a ball.

Kala Di planted her hands on her hips. “You guys are supposed to be resting in your rooms.” She turned her attention on the two older boys. “Savl. Lomm. You two know better.”

“Sorry,” they muttered as they shuffled toward the door. Davin, Dolan, and the two rescued children followed suit. As they left the room, Allana placed a hand on each of the twins’ heads.

“What am I now, a nerfherder?” she said with a smile.

Davin and Dolan exchanged glances before attempting to knock Allana over with a group hug. “We missed you,” Davin said.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Allana regained her balance and hugged each of them individually. “What have you guys been up to since I last saw you?”

“We got to hang out on Booster’s ship for a few months,” Dolan said.

“And then Master Horn took us to Tatooine for a few days,” Davin added.

“And now we’re here.”

Allana ruffled their hair. “And already making trouble, I see.”

“We’re making friends, too,” Dolan pointed out.

Davin held his index finger above his head. “And that’s important.”

Anakin hung back to give his grandchildren space while they walked together; he allowed himself a genuine, unguarded smile as he watched them interact.

Maybe there was hope for this future after all.

“Excuse me, Master Jedi.” A tiny voice drifted up to him as he felt a gentle tug on the hem of his jacket. He looked down to see the little blond boy. He wasn’t great at guessing kids’ ages, but this one looked about five or six.

Anakin knelt down in front of the boy. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. Are you okay?”

The boy nodded and looked at him with wide, anxious brown eyes. “Can you take me back to my room?”

Anakin experienced a slight twinge in the pit of his stomach. “Sure, I can.” He stood up and offered the boy his hand, but the boy didn’t take it. There was something very solemn about the way he held himself that made Anakin wonder what kind of life he’d had before being kidnapped by the Sith. As they followed after the others, Anakin looked down at the child. “I’m Anakin,” he said. “What’s your name?”

The little boy kept his gaze forward. “My name is Roan.”

For some reason, Anakin thought of the first time he’d met Obi-Wan, after they’d narrowly escaped that mysterious Sith Lord on Tatooine. He remembered how wide-eyed and excited he’d been to meet another Jedi Knight, how his entire future had seemed like an open expanse of shining, golden promise. Pretty much the opposite of what he sensed from the little boy next to him.

Anakin inclined his head toward the child and tried to put on his most reassuring smile. “Pleased to meet you, Roan.”

The boy glanced up at him for only a moment, his lips twitching as though he wanted to smile but had forgotten how. The pit in Anakin’s stomach opened further.

“Hey,” he said, resting a tentative hand on the child’s shoulder. Roan jerked ever so slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Anakin inhaled and pressed on. “It’s going to be okay. I know everyone always says that, but it is. The people here really care about you, and they’re not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.”

The boy nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

“No problem.” Anakin pulled his hand away, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Meals were eaten, children played, Knights and their apprentices trained and sparred until they were sore. Under the protection of the old base and the pair of Noghri who guarded it, the Jedi could sleep soundly and peacefully. As night fell over Zihrent, only a few remained awake, if not vigilant.

Anakin Skywalker, alone in his new quarters, afraid to fall asleep.

Tahiri Veila, watching over the twin boys she’d raised from toddlerhood, thankful that she’d been able to return to them.

Ben Skywalker, trying once more to reach his parents somewhere in the netherworld of the Force, only to receive no answer.

The little blond Vjun survivor, Roan, who had slipped from his bunk and snuck out of his quarters without waking the other boys.

Roan made his way to the empty room he and his new friends had found earlier that day. No one would walk in on him in here. He rolled down the waistband of his pants and ripped out the tiny comlink that had been sewn into the fabric.

“Papa,” he whispered into the device. “I’m here. I activated the beacon like you said.”

There was only static for several seconds, and the boy grew worried that his papa wouldn’t hear. Then the static cut off abruptly, and he heard someone take a breath.

“Good work, my son.” His papa sounded pleased. “We’re on our way.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen

Morning came particularly early at the Jedi base on Zihrent, but then Ben hadn’t exactly gotten much sleep. He rolled over in his bunk, eyeing the wall chrono with increasing annoyance as the comm unit next to it blared out a tune that was meant to wake everyone.

“Shut up,” he groaned, covering his head with his pillow.

A moment later the pillow was yanked from his grasp. “I thought you were a morning person?” Anakin said, flinging the pillow onto the opposite bunk.

Ben glared up at him. “What gave you that idea?”

A thoughtful look crossed Anakin’s face. “I don’t know. Come on, we’re going to miss breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Just get up already. Sleeping in is not the Jedi way.”

Ben lifted his head and continued to glare. “I don’t think I would have done well in your old Jedi Order, Gramps.”

“Stop stalling and get out of bed. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”

Ben swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and sat up, rubbing his eyes as he did so. “Why are you so eager?” he said with a yawn.

“The truth?” Anakin bounced up on the balls of his feet. “I’ve been up all night, and I’m starving.” He walked over to the door and waited for Ben to join him.

“You know you could have gone without me,” Ben grumbled. “And I’m pretty sure staying awake all night is up there on the list of things you shouldn’t do when you’re recovering from serious injuries.”

“Getting into a fist fight with your grandson is probably high on that list, too, and I’ve already done that.”

Ben held up a finger and aimed it at him. “Watch your mouth.” He pulled his boots on and yawned again. “Glad to see you’ve got your sense of humor back.”

“It’s a work in progress. What about you?”

Ben shrugged and shot him a grin. “Same, I guess.”

Anakin had just opened the door when a powerful tremor rolled through the base, shaking the floor beneath them and rattling the walls and ceilings hard enough that the ancient durasteel supports groaned.

“What the hell?” Ben said as he and Anakin both grabbed the door frame to keep from falling over.

Once the violent rumbling ceased, the two men stared at each other. “An earthquake?” Anakin asked.

Then a shrill alarm started to blare through the comm system. Ben froze as he listened to the deafening sound for several seconds. When he did move again, it wasn’t Anakin’s voice that spurred him to action, but Deekmawr’s.

“We are under attack. Evacuate; I repeat, evacuate!”

Ben called his lightsaber to him and took off toward the mess hall at a dead sprint. He sensed Anakin on his heels, but that wasn’t who he was concerned about. He stretched out with his feelings, searching for the rest of his family.

The mess hall ahead was a tangle of fear and panic as the younglings reacted to the alarms. Ben felt Allana’s presence as a bright and surprisingly steady beacon amidst a wave of chaos. When he and Anakin barreled into the dining area, they found Allana doing her best to gather up clusters of half-asleep children and lead them toward the exit.

“Allana!” Ben met her eyes over the younglings’ heads as he hurdled over a table separating them. He landed near her and scanned the room. “Where is everyone?”

The look on her face betrayed her concern. “I don’t know.”

Ben looked at Anakin. “We need to get to the hangar.” He pulled out his comlink. “Artoo? Get the Daybreak ready to fly.”

The order was met with an affirmative whistle. Ben quickly switched frequencies.

“Is anyone there? What’s happening? Tahiri?”

Anakin and Allana were herding the children toward the exit; Allana turned back and waved for him to hurry.

“Ben?”

“Elias?”

“We’re coming from the sleeping quarters with the rest of the children. Karanya and her kids are with us. Kohr and Ames, too.”

Ben motioned for Allana to keep moving as he ran to catch up with her. “We’ll meet you in the hangar,” he said into the comlink. “Any sign of the others? Tahiri and Valin?”

“Not down this way.”

Ben pressed his lips together in frustration as another rumble shook the base. “All right, just hurry.” He looked up and met Allana’s concerned stare. “It’s fine,” he said under his breath, not sure if he was trying to reassure her or himself. “They can take care of themselves.”

They started down the dim, winding corridors that led to the main hangar, Anakin leading in front and Allana at his side, murmuring encouragements to the children. Ben brought up the rear, trying every few seconds to contact their missing companions. They had just turned the final corner when a dark figure appeared out of nowhere, blocking their path. Several children screamed at the sight of the Noghri.

“You cannot go that way,” Matabakh said, her gravelly voice strained.

“Is there another way to the hangar?” Allana asked.

Ben closed his eyes and felt the ripples of an explosion as it tore through the shield doors. “They’re in the hangar. We need another way out.”

Matabakh motioned for them to follow her. They retraced their route back toward the mess hall, stopping at an intersection about halfway there when they collided with Elias’s group. Ben could see Karanya at the back, clinging to her son’s hand, while her daughters carried the smallest of the children. Ames had also picked up one of the younglings, and Arden had an arm slung around Kohr’s waist, supporting the still-weakened teenager. Force, there were so many of them, and if the Daybreak and the other ships had been destroyed with that explosion…

“Hangar’s blocked,” Ben said quickly. “Matabakh has another way out.”

“Another way?” Elias sounded skeptical and more than a little sleep-deprived.

Matabakh nodded. “A small maintenance hangar. We have a freighter and a few fighters there.”

“Maintenance?” Ben said as he looked around at the children again, trying to get a rough count. “Are those ships able to fly?”

A pause as Matabakh shifted her stance. “They’re able.”

Why didn’t he find that answer at all reassuring? Ben took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s get—”

“Ben!”

He instantly recognized Davin’s panicked voice calling out from the rear of Elias’s group, and in that moment, he realized he didn’t sense Dolan among them. Ben turned to the Noghri. “Keep going, get them all out.”

Matabakh acknowledged the order with a grunt and began leading the children down the intersecting corridor. Ben waved at Allana and the others to follow, and he pushed through the group until he got to Davin. “What happened?”

Davin’s brown eyes were wide. “Some of our friends were missing, and he went to find them. I was supposed to tell you.”

A hand on his arm startled him. He twisted to see Anakin at his side. “I’ll find Dolan,” he said. “You get Davin and the others out of here.”

Ben thought to argue, but there was something in Anakin’s tone that staid him. “You’re sure?” he said, quiet.

Anakin’s grip on his arm tightened. “Trust me.”

Ben nodded at his grandfather and grabbed Davin by the hand. “Come on, buddy, let’s get out of here.”

They turned down the side corridor, Ben practically dragging Davin after him as they sprinted to catch up with the group ahead. He could hear their footsteps against the duracrete, and soon enough they had caught up. Kala Di and Dira had moved to the back with their mother and were gently encouraging the children to keep moving.

“We’re almost there,” Karanya was saying as Ben and Davin ran up behind her.

Another explosion hit the base, causing stone and dust to rain down on them. Ben pulled Davin against his body and bent over to shield him. All around, children cried out in terror.

A light filled the corridor, and when Ben looked up through the haze of dust and debris, he saw a doorway had opened ahead of them. He couldn’t see who it was on the other side, but he knew Tahiri’s presence anywhere.

“Come on, come on!” she yelled, waving them forward urgently. “Get to the ships!” Her eyes swept past Ben, scanning the children. “Valin’s kids?”

“I’ve got them, Master Veila,” Kala Di called out.

Tahiri pulled out her comlink. “They’re here, Valin.”

“Thank the Force.” Valin’s voice was edged in static, but his relief was clear. Ben thought he sounded a little winded, too. “The Daybreak and the Ho’Din are ready to fly.”

The adults stayed back while the younglings climbed through the doorway, which was little more than a hatch. Ben brought up the rear, and as he lifted Davin up to Tahiri, he saw a crack in her usually collected exterior.

“Where’s Dolan?” she said, a trace of panic in her voice.

“He got separated,” Ben said. “Anakin went back for him.”

Tahiri looked like she wanted to strangle him. Instead, she turned to the other Jedi. “Elias, you’re with Ben and me. The rest of you get to the ships. Take off if you have to.”

Kohr and Ames hesitated, stepping away from the hatch. “We can help,” Kohr said.

Tahiri blew out a frustrated breath and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “You get on one of those ships right now, Tredo, or I swear that head injury will be the least of your problems.” She looked over at Ames and shook her head. “You, too. You want to help? Protect those kids.”

Kohr and Ames exchanged a look before acquiescing. Arden helped Kohr through the hatch, then turned to kiss Elias before following the boys through. Karanya put a hand on Tahiri’s arm as she brought up the rear. “What happened to you?”

Tahiri looked over her shoulder. “Valin and I were up early, training outside. An advance team got the drop on us, but we managed to fight them off. They’ll be inside the base soon, if they aren’t already.”

Karanya nodded. “Be careful,” she said before disappearing through the doorway. Tahiri closed the hatch behind her and stepped down next to Ben. Together with Elias, they ran back the way they had come.

Just before they came to the mess hall, Ben felt the corridor come to an abrupt end.

“Whoa!” He looked up at a wall of stone and crumbled duracrete, spilling down from a hole in the ceiling.

“Now what?” Elias said breathlessly.

Ben braced himself as another explosion hit and caused more of the ceiling to cave in. Then he felt them enter.

He looked at Tahiri, and she looked back, green eyes wide. Her words were a whisper.

“They’re inside.”

Anakin ran full speed through the mess hall, vaulting over tables to get to the passage where the council room was. He could feel something there, and it made sense that some of the kids might have gone back there to play despite yesterday’s warning. The ground shook beneath him as another explosion ripped through the base. He staggered a little, then righted himself, reaching for the door to the council room.

“Dolan?” he called out as he entered. Anakin looked around in surprise as four children stepped out from behind the council members’ chairs. His eyes stopped on the one closest to him. “Dolan!” He exhaled the name as he kneeled down in front of the dark-haired boy and put his hands on his shoulders. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“I’m sorry, Master Anakin, I didn’t know what to do.” The boy sniffled as tears welled up in his green eyes.

Anakin pulled Dolan into a hug and ran a hand over his hair. “It’s all right, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He lifted Dolan’s chin with one finger and looked into his eyes. “But we do have to go, now.”

Dolan’s eyes were wide. “There were too many of them,” he said, his body trembling. “We came here to hide.”

Anakin frowned. “How many did you see?” When Dolan didn’t answer, he stood up and looked to the other children. “How many?”

The council room door slid open, and Anakin twisted around to block Dolan and the others. Standing in the doorway were two humans, one female and one male, as well as a Chagrian and a Weequay.

“Hello, Jedi,” the human male said in a deceptively pleasant tone. “Care to play?” The four Sith ignited their lightsabers and grinned.

Anakin pulled out his borrowed saber and activated it at his side, glaring up at the Sith. Behind him, he sensed Dolan flinch and take a step backwards. The other children ducked behind the chairs.

“Don’t come any closer,” Anakin said, leveling his weapon at the line of Sith. “I’m warning you.”

The Chagrian chuckled. “Big words for a Jedi, but it’s four against one.”

“Time to have some fun,” the human woman added.

They fanned out in a semicircle, the Weequay guarding the door while the others closed in from the sides. Anakin adjusted his grip and watched them advance. The two humans were on either side of him when they both charged, lightsabers held high. Anakin ducked and spun around, catching the man’s blade on his as he kicked the woman’s feet out from under her. She recovered quickly, springing up to challenge him again while he exchanged blows with her companion.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Chagrian advance on Dolan and the hidden children. Anakin grabbed the woman’s wrist and flung her toward the man, buying himself a few seconds to yank the Chagrian back with a violent tug from the Force. Then he flipped backward over the chairs, landing amidst the terrified younglings.

“Stay behind me!” he yelled as his three attackers moved forward as one. Anakin raised his left hand, and one of the chairs went flying toward the Sith. The closest one – the man – smirked as he stepped out of the way and sliced the chair in half.

“Is that the best you can d—” His words cut off and became a scream as Anakin darted forward and caught him on the upswing, lightsaber slicing through his elbow. The Sith dropped to his knees, still howling as Anakin plucked his weapon from the air.

The woman and the Chagrian were on him immediately, but now he had two blades. He was able to fend them off, but how long until the Weequay jumped into the fray and things started to get really messy?

If he were alone and uninjured, this would have been easy, he didn’t doubt that. Ever since he’d arrived in this world, in this time, he’d been struggling to tap into the true depths of his power. One thing after another, drugged and beaten and broken. He was hardly even a shadow of himself. Ineffectual. Weak. Afraid. It wasn’t right that he should hold so much power and not be able to reach it now. It wasn’t fair that these monsters could break the galaxy and murder his children and try to rip away the only family he had left. What good was being some kind of mystical savior if he couldn’t save the ones he loved?

Anakin sank deeper into the Force, closing his eyes to shut out everything but the movements of his opponents. He’d never tried this in combat, at least not on the front lines, where he needed his troops to be confident in not only his abilities, but his sanity. Now, though… now he needed the clarity afforded by the Force alone, not his own limited vision. He was going to show these Sith exactly why he was chosen.

It was amazing what he picked up on by shutting out one of his senses and handing its duties over to instinct. He felt the Sith’s shock and confusion, then their anger because they thought he was toying with them. He blocked each of their attacks quickly and with minimal effort, relying on the whispers that guided his two blades. He was gaining strength when he should have been distracted by his fears.

Then he felt a spike of pure terror as one of the children screamed.

Anakin’s eyes snapped open to see a young girl dangling in the air, clutching at her throat. Between parries, he saw the Weequay still in the doorway, one hand outstretched.

“Let her go!” He tried to twist away from his opponents long enough to disrupt the Weequay, but like predators smelling blood, they attacked him with renewed fervor, heedless of their own safety as they refused to give him an inch.

The Weequay Sith smiled a wicked smile and raised his other hand, fingers closing into a fist as he did so. Dolan rose into the air, legs kicking wildly as he scratched at the invisible grip on his neck.

Anakin felt something inside him tear wide open, frenzied and raw; and with a primal scream he flung his two lightsabers through the air like spears as lightning exploded from his hands. The Chagrian fell to the floor, a charred hole through his chest, while the Weequay and the human woman flew backward from the force of the lightning, moaning and writhing where they’d landed. Behind him, Dolan and the little girl dropped to the floor. As the lightning abated, Anakin stared down at the cracked and blackened palm of his left hand. He could still feel the power surging through him; he could easily let out another blast, and part of him was desperate to do so. Instead, he reached out, calling both lightsabers back to him.

“Are you okay?” he shouted over his shoulder at Dolan and the girl.

“They’re okay,” one of the other children answered.

On the opposite side of the room, the Weequay and the human woman struggled to get to their feet. The man whose arm Anakin had sliced off had crawled to the door and was reaching for the control panel when it slid open. On the other side, Ben, Tahiri, and Elias stood with lightsabers drawn. Before any of the Sith could react, the three Jedi sent out a combined blast of energy that pummeled them to the ground. Tahiri used those few seconds of disorientation to rip their weapons from their hands.

“Everybody all right?” Ben asked as he and Elias hit the Sith one more time with another wave of energy, knocking them out cold.

Anakin dropped the Sith lightsaber and staggered backward a couple of steps. He turned to see Dolan leaning against one of the council members’ chairs, still panting. Anakin went to him and scooped him up in his arms.

“These two were attacked,” he said. “I think they’ll be all right, but they’re definitely shaken up.”

Elias ran over to the little girl and picked her up. “There’s no time; we’ve gotta get out of here.”

Tahiri strode forward quickly and brushed her fingers across Dolan’s cheek, then leaned forward to place a kiss on his forehead. Anakin stared down at her, and her eyes rose to meet his; and he was startled by the depth of gratitude he saw there.

“Thank you,” she said.

He wanted to shake his head at her. Don’t thank me, he thought, still feeling the adrenaline from the fight – no, from the lightning that had poured from his hands, burning and vicious and exhilarating. The rage he’d felt, the red haze of emotion he’d tapped into in that moment… it had felt so good. All guilt and uncertainty swept away for a few pure, agonizing seconds, and everything was suddenly within his power and ability to control, to choose.

“Don’t mention it,” he murmured, averting his eyes. He found Ben watching him, and the guilt returned, washing away the angry fog and leaving something cold and heavy in its place.

Pull it together, soldier, he told himself, repeating a phrase he’d often heard from the clone commanders who served under him, though it had never actually been directed at him. The mission’s not over.

Tahiri led the way from the council chamber, navigating through a field of debris that had once been the mess hall before climbing up through a hole in the ceiling.

“You okay to carry him?” Ben asked, nodding toward Dolan as Anakin prepared to jump up after Tahiri.

Anakin ignored the twinge in his side from still-healing wounds. “I’m fine.”

They finally made it back to the hallway outside the maintenance hangar, where Tahiri slid back the hatch and allowed them to climb through. “Hurry,” she said, helping the younglings up. “I can sense more of them closing in.”

They emerged in a brightly lit hangar, complete with a light cargo freighter and a few starfighters. Anakin didn’t recognize the model, so it was definitely after his time, but it did resemble the ARC-170 fighter he knew so well. He thought of the last time he’d seen an ARC-170, when he’d brought the Invisible Hand crashing down on Coruscant. That battle seemed so distant now, it might as well have happened in another life.

Deekmawr emerged from the freighter and waved them over. “The ships are fueled and ready to depart. There is little time.”

“The Daybreak and the Ho’Din?” Tahiri said.

“No word since they left,” Deekmawr replied. “But I repeated your instructions to head for Haven.”

“What are we up against?” Ben asked while Elias guided the children up the ramp. Anakin lowered Dolan to the ground, and Tahiri took him by the hand.

Deekmawr’s expression was grim. “Three Star Destroyers with unknown fighter contingents, I fear.”

“Star Destroyers?” Anakin said. So they still had those in this time? He doubted they were the same class of warship he’d known, but he wondered just how much they could have changed in seventy years. He noticed Deekmawr giving him a puzzled look just before he sniffed the air.

Ben answered before the strange alien had a chance. “The Sith are really bringing out the big guns today. We’ll have to outrun them, or at least buy the others some time.”

“We?” Anakin glanced at the closest starfighter. For the first time in days, he felt a spark of genuine excitement race through him.

Ben quirked one eyebrow. “That’s right.” He put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder and leaned in close so that no one else could hear. “Time to see what made you the best starpilot in the galaxy.”

Ben settled into the cockpit of the old X-wing fighter and pulled on a helmet as the ship’s systems came online. He wished he had Artoo with him, but the astromech Deekmawr had scrounged up would do for now. Several meters away he saw Anakin settling into a fighter of his own. His grandfather pulled a helmet on as well, and the comm crackled with static.

“I wish I had Artoo with me,” Anakin muttered, catching Ben’s eye.

Ben smiled and shook his head. What they were about to do was crazy, but if what Obi-Wan had told his father was true, there was no better pilot to have at his side. He just hoped the man lived up to the legend; Ben had known plenty of incredible pilots, so the bar was set high.

As his fighter lifted off the ground, he saw Tahiri in the freighter’s cockpit. She nodded at him, and he nodded back.

“All right, boys,” Ben said, rotating his ship toward the hangar entrance, a door that opened in the ceiling above. Anakin and Elias’s fighters lined up behind him. “Time to go.”

The trio of X-wings ascended to the surface, and Ben caught a face full of sunlight as they emerged from the foliage. He winced a little and squinted at the dark forms silhouetted in the light. Sith bombers, at least a dozen of them. Below them a troop transport had landed – probably where those four Lessers had come from. And several of the helix fighters were flying low over the trees, moving too fast for a standard patrol…

Ben felt his eyes go wide as the Daybreak burst out of the trees in the distance, cannons blazing, the Happy Ho’Din right on her tail. The two freighters pulled up at impossibly steep angles, shooting straight for the atmosphere.

“Glad you could join us, Skywalker!” Myri’s voice practically sang over the comm.

Ben shook his head as he and the others adjusted course to follow. “What are you guys still doing here? You should be on your way to Haven.”

“We’ve got a problem, Ben.” Valin’s voice was strained, and Ben felt his stomach plummet.

“Tell me.”

“It’s Haven. We think… I felt it through Jys…”

Ben’s fighter shuddered as it began to break through the planet’s atmosphere. “Valin,” he said through gritted teeth. “Spit it out.”

“The Sith are at Haven,” Syal cut in, taking over for the distressed Jedi. “It was probably supposed to be a simultaneous attack on both bases, but I’ll bet they were delayed by all the jumps it takes to travel around the nebulae, and they obviously didn’t count on the connection between Valin and Jysella acting as an advance warning.”

“I think she escaped with some of them,” Valin added, “but I don’t know how many. I’m sorry, Ben, but Haven is lost.”

Ben rubbed a hand over his jaw, holding it there for a moment as he remembered the children who’d been kidnapped from the Denon enclave, the ones they’d left in Jysella and Orion’s care on Haven. Tahiri had warned him, hadn’t she? All of that effort, only for them to end up right back in the hands of the Sith. And what about all the other apprentices and Knights who lived there? Stars, was this his fault? Had he led the Sith to Haven? To Zihrent?

“We can’t worry about that right now,” Tahiri broke in. “We’ve got more immediate concerns, like what to do about those.”

As the fighters and freighters left Zihrent’s atmosphere, wispy clouds gave way to the darkening blue-black of space, and three Star Destroyers appeared suspended against it.

“Here we go,” Ben said under his breath, pushing his doubts way down.

“Whoa.” There was a hint of awe in Anakin’s voice. “Those are huge.”

Ben tightened his grip on the stick. “Yeah,” he said. The three Destroyers had formed a pincer and were already surrounding the Jedi ships. Squadrons of fighters deployed from each ship’s belly, filling in the gaps between them. In a minute or two, the Daybreak and the other transports would have nowhere to go.

“How do we get out of this one?” Elias said, his voice barely audible across the comm.

Ben’s chest was heavy. Their starfighters might be able to slip by, but the freighters were a different story. As his mind raced to come up with a solution, he saw Anakin’s fighter surge forward ahead of the group.

“I’ve got an idea,” his grandfather said.

From the bridge of the Star Destroyer Warhammer, Lord Dominius watched as a handful of Jedi pilots plowed through a squadron of his starfighters, adding insult to injury by flying in the shabbiest trio of X-wings imaginable. Personally, he’d always felt that the Sith Empire did a mediocre job when it came to training pilots, its basic policy being to take a Force-sensitive, regardless of talent or training, and stick them in a starfighter. Such a terribly wasteful and ineffective method of filling the navy’s ranks, and it was so very irritating to be proved right on this subject, in the midst of battle.

Dominius didn’t have any particular affinity for piloting, but he knew how deadly some of his fellow Lords – and even some of the Lessers – were behind the controls. It was a pity they were used only sparingly for that purpose. Still, as he watched the trio of Jedi in their starfighters, particularly the one in the lead, he found himself doubting that even the best Sith pilot would be a match. That realization filled him with about as much admiration as it did frustration.

The Sith Lord turned to the viewport on his left and watched as that same X-wing broke away from the others and began to skim the surface of the Nihilus. None of its guns were able to take down the Jedi, who was flying dangerously close to the hull. The X-wing changed course abruptly, doing a barrel roll as it pulled up and climbed toward the bridge. The Sith fighters on his tail were unable to keep up with their prey’s suicidal pace. The Jedi pulled away from the tower, narrowly dodging blasts from the forward gun battery. Those same blasts tore through the pursuers. The X-wing did a tight loop to reverse course before firing repeatedly on one of Nihilus’s bridge deflector shield generators.

Dominius sensed increasing apprehension behind him as the exploding generator dome lit the space around it for an instant. He looked over his shoulder at Warhammer’s command officers, including its captain, a middle-aged Zeltron man with black tattoos zigzagging the left half of his dark pink face. “Captain Bateer,” he said quietly, nodding for the captain to join him at the viewport.

“Your orders, my lord?”

Dominius steepled his long fingers together in front of him. “Kill that Jedi for me.”

There was a moment’s hesitation as Bateer swallowed. “My lord, the Master’s orders—”

“Captain.”

“Yes, my lord?”

Dominius bared his sharp teeth in a cool smile. “As Lord Krayt’s emissary, it is left to me to interpret his will. I am giving the orders today, and I trust you won’t forget it again.”

Bateer’s movements were crisp as he bowed his head and shoulders. “As you wish, my lord.” He turned to the rest of the command crew. “Concentrate fire on the X-wings.”

Dominius watched as two squadrons of helix fighters veered away from the freighters and moved to converge on the three Jedi starfighters.

If nothing else, he thought, it would make for an entertaining show.

Ben couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he’d realized his grandfather was slightly insane. It might have been the moment he destroyed one of the Star Destroyer’s bridge shield generators and then flew straight through the flaming wreckage. Or it might have been when more than a dozen Sith fighters peeled away from their targets to chase after him, and he laughed under his breath, daring them to take him down. But even though Ben still wondered how the hell they were going to make it out of this mess, he felt strangely comforted by Anakin’s staggering confidence. It reminded him of flying with Jaina, and for the first time in a long time, that thought didn’t hurt at all.

It also made him intensely glad that he hadn’t inherited what was apparently a Skywalker predisposition toward thrill-seeking, but that was another matter altogether.

“This is getting really annoying.” Ben checked his radar, and sure enough, two more fighters had decided to latch onto him. “I can’t shake these guys.”

“I see you,” Anakin said. “Just keep flying straight, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wait, where are you?” His scope was so hopelessly cluttered, he couldn’t tell allies from enemies. He looked forward, swerving a little to avoid another gun battery as he flew as close to the Star Destroyer’s hull as he dared. “Anakin?”

“Fly straight, full throttle, and don’t let up.” A pause as he heard Anakin take a breath. “Trust me.”

Laser blasts seared past him, and one or two crashed against his shields. I’m gonna be dust, he thought, eyes narrowing at the fast-approaching edge of the Star Destroyer. Another quick glance at his scope showed he was on a collision course with a massive cluster of light. What the hell—?

He was almost to the edge of the warship when his proximity alarm screamed at him. Then a starfighter shot up from below the belly of the Star Destroyer, crossing directly into his path.

“Frag!” Ben almost let up as panic gripped him, but Anakin’s instructions rang in his ears, and he punched forward, his canopy narrowly missing the back of his grandfather’s X-wing. Their ships broke away from the Star Destroyer, and behind them, their numerous pursuers collided in a brilliant and enormous ball of fire.

A low chuckle filtered across the comm. “You’re not half bad,” Anakin said, and Ben could just picture the cocky grin on his grandfather’s face.

“And you’re a fragging lunatic,” he shot back, taking a breath to steady himself against the rush of adrenaline. Dammit, that was close.

Anakin swung his fighter around, bringing it up alongside Ben’s as another wave of enemy ships descended on them.

“I think you made them mad,” Ben said, tightening his grip on the controls.

“How do you know it wasn’t you?” came the wry retort.

Ben groaned inwardly at the callback to Heibic, and then he groaned audibly as he sensed a few more fighters approaching from the rear. Great. “You’re sure this plan is going to work?”

“I’m positive that it can work.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know.” There was a pause, and he lost sight of Anakin’s fighter as his grandfather dipped below him. “It’ll work. We just have to keep our freighters out of range of their tractor beams while we take out that Destroyer’s stabilizers.”

“You still haven’t explained how we’re going to draw the ship into Zihrent’s atmosphere.” Ben weaved through a barrage of enemy fire, slipping past the wave of fighters. “We’re going to need a damn miracle for that,” he muttered.

“You don’t need a miracle – you’ve got me.”

Ben couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “You don’t know how much I want to punch you in the mouth right now.”

“You mean you haven’t gotten that all out of your system yet?”

He bit back a laugh. “Just tell us your brilliant plan, already.”

“It’s an idea I’ve had for a while… I’ve never flown with enough Jedi to consider attempting it, but I think now, with our numbers, it might work.” There was a brief pause as Anakin exhaled. “Once we hit the stabilizers, we’re going to pull that Star Destroyer toward the middle of the formation and crash it into the command ship.”

There was silence across the comm, enough to make Ben wonder if the others had heard. Finally, Elias’s voice broke that silence.

“We’ve never done anything like that,” he said with a trace of anxiety. “That’s way too big…” He trailed off, as if unable to wrap his mind around the enormity of Anakin’s plan.

To his credit, Anakin seemed completely unfazed by Elias’s doubts. “You see those ships? Next to the power of the Force, they’re nothing. If the Force is in everything and we’re one with it, then size doesn’t matter. There’s nothing they can throw at us that we can’t knock down.”

Ben felt the hairs on his arms stand on end, and all he could think was, This is the Anakin Skywalker who led armies.

And then he thought: Okay, Gramps. Lead on.

“You know what?” Tahiri’s voice crackled across the comm, and Ben swore he heard a hint of laughter in it. “Why the hell not? Let’s do this.”

It had been many years since Tahiri Veila had attempted any kind of battle meld with another Jedi. It wasn’t that she lacked the willingness to enter one again – even after the whole Killik mess and how it had fractured the surviving Myrkr strike team members, Tahiri was practical enough to recognize that the battle meld was a powerful tool in a Jedi’s arsenal. The bond had always amplified her senses, allowing her to see and feel what her companions experienced, giving her an advantage that even traditional Jedi training did not.

But in the years since the reemergence of the Sith, use of the meld had waned. As the Jedi spread across the galaxy in separate, hidden enclaves, almost completely cut off from one another, the need to work together in battle dwindled. The technique, while not truly lost, was seen as a relic of another time, another war.

Tahiri had never instructed her students in the use of a battle meld, and now probably wasn’t the time for a lesson. And yet, as she stretched out with her feelings and touched the minds of her fellow Jedi, she sensed something familiar – not a meld, exactly, but a closeness… no, a unity, one of purpose, of spirit. Individuals joined together, realizing in the same moment what incredible feats they might be capable of, and perhaps more importantly, that they weren’t alone. That as separate as they might have seemed for all these years, the Force still bound them together.

She could feel each of their minds humming with intense focus, little lights pressing back against the darkness. Valin’s steadiness and Karanya’s gentle warmth, Elias’s determination and Allana’s quiet yet powerful radiance, Ames and Kohr’s bright enthusiasm and eagerness to prove themselves, even Dira and Kala Di’s bewildered awe at the enormity of what they were experiencing. The Jedi expanded outward in the Force, brushing against each other’s senses, lifting one another up.

Ben Skywalker, a brilliant solar flare as he finally allowed his presence to be felt, lending strength to the bond between them all. A power so great it easily dwarfed most of the others out there, and was matched only by the man in the lead X-wing.

She felt it, then. The unbridled fire that was Anakin Skywalker, so different from the Anakin she’d known and loved, and yet in many ways the same. For a long time, her Anakin had feared his grandfather’s legacy, often wondering if he was destined to one day walk that same dark path. She’d always believed in him, had never doubted that he would become an amazing Jedi Knight, a beacon of light for others. And even though his life ended too soon, she’d been right about him.

Ben’s strength and compassion… his grandfather’s certainty in the face of impossible odds… she knew it didn’t really make any sense, but as she perceived them both through the Force, she could almost believe she was feeling an echo of Anakin Solo between them. Not just him, but Jaina, too, and Luke, and Leia…

She smiled for one instant at that thought, then pushed it from her mind as she concentrated every ounce of her will on the Star Destroyer looming large in the viewport.

“Size matters not,” Luke Skywalker had been known to say, words he attributed to a great and wise Jedi Master named Yoda. “Luminous beings are we.”

Tahiri had to admit, she was feeling pretty damn luminous right now.

“How close do you need to be?” Deekmawr said in a gravelly murmur as he took over the controls from her.

She shifted over to the co-pilot’s seat and lifted a hand toward the viewport. “This is fine, Deekmawr. In the Force, things like size and distance and time… they’re all one.”

Then she closed her eyes and took hold of the Star Destroyer as though grasping it in the palm of her hand – and every Jedi Knight in that fighter-strewn expanse of space did the same.

Were he to live a hundred more years, Darth Dominius didn’t think he would ever forget this day.

It took about fifteen seconds for the bridge crew of the Warhammer to recognize that something was wrong with the Nihilus. It took another ten seconds for them to realize that Nihilus was not only veering radically off course, but that it was being pulled by the collective efforts of the ragtag assembly of Jedi scattered across multiple starships.

It was about five more seconds before the proximity warning blared and everyone on the bridge realized that Nihilus was flying right into Warhammer’s path.

Captain Bateer was an experienced commanding officer, and he handled the situation with a cool grace that Dominius found completely atypical for one of his species. Ordering evasive maneuvers, he steered the Warhammer out of the way enough that the impact was more a glancing blow than a shattering one.

Dominius braced himself against the viewport as the ship trembled beneath him. The Nihilus passed under them, and he saw the top half of its bridge sheared clean off from the collision, sending debris bouncing against Warhammer’s shields. Without its bridge or stabilizers, the Nihilus was pulled into the planet’s atmosphere, unable to correct its course. Dominius’s skin grew hot at the sight of the vessel bending under the stress, twisting apart at the seams as it tumbled toward the surface. There would be no question of survivors; anyone who failed to such an extent as the crew of the Nihilus didn’t deserve to live. Should they return to the Master, they would wish they’d burned alive in their ship’s wreckage.

The group of Jedi starships had disappeared from view the moment the Nihilus crossed between them and the Warhammer. They reappeared now, practically in open space; and by the time Dominius’s fighters could reach them, every single ship had made the jump into hyperspace.

The bridge of the Warhammer was silent as the Falleen Sith loosened his long fingers from the edge of the viewport and stared out at the empty patch of space where the Jedi had been just ten seconds ago. Instead of increasing, the slow boil of rage that had begun with the Nihilus’ demise started to cool off; when he looked down at his hands they had returned to their usual green pigment.

“Captain Bateer,” he said as he turned slowly and with calm precision to face the officers on the bridge. The ship’s captain stepped forward.

“Yes, my lord?”

Dominius clasped his hands behind his back. “Signal our fighters to return to their bays, and hail the Wyyrlok. We’re rejoining the fleet at Hapes immediately.”

Captain Bateer bowed his head quickly. “It will be done, my lord.”

As the captain and his officers carried out their orders, a Miralukan lieutenant approached him with a datapad in hand. “Message from Ossus, my lord.”

Dominius took the datapad and read the message, quickly at first, then again slowly so he could savor the words. Once he was finished, he turned toward the viewport and smiled. The Jedi had lost two more hiding places today, and – if Lady Varice’s intelligence proved correct – they were about to lose even more.

It was turning out to be a good day after all. One he would never forget.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen

Twilight arrived on Haven amid a hail of fire.

Smoke poured from the interior of the Jedi enclave, rising up in thick, noxious clouds that blocked out the light from Haven’s only moon and dimmed the glow of the Hapes Cluster’s many stars. It wasn’t true night, but it was probably as close as Haven would ever come to total darkness.

Artificial light suddenly split that darkness as half a dozen troop transport pilots flipped on their ships’ floodlights. Those lights illuminated the gray duracrete landing strip in front of the enclave’s hangar bay, as well as the row of prisoners – some of them gagged, and all of them bound and on their knees – waiting to be taken away. The children, most in their nightclothes, were shivering in the cool air.

Darth Ferrus stood behind the row of prisoners, waiting for his master to arrive. He exhaled slowly and watched his breath condense in the harsh white glare of the floodlights. Next to him, at the exact same moment, he heard his brother let out a breath.

Must be a twin thing, he thought, listening to their strangely synchronized breathing for a few more seconds, then straightening up as he noticed a new set of lights overhead: the glow of the Master’s incoming shuttle.

One of the children closest to him began to whimper. Ferrus thought about telling the kid to suck it up, that his crying wasn’t going to change what happened next, but he decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

“It’s going to be okay,” one of the Jedi – the Healer, Ferrus thought – murmured to the whimpering child. “The Force is with us. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He felt the change in his brother’s presence the way some people felt the change in atmospheric pressure before a storm.

“Don’t lie to him,” Darth Festus said, every syllable laced with acid. “Don’t tell him everything’s going to be okay when you know what’s waiting for him. It’s not going to be okay, and the Force isn’t with you.”

The Jedi looked up over his shoulder at Festus and stared at him for several seemingly endless seconds. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.” His gaze shifted to Ferrus. “To both of you.”

Ferrus found himself unable to form a response as he looked into the Jedi’s woeful eyes. His twin, on the other hand, had no such problem.

“It’s a good thing our master wants you alive for now,” Festus said, a slow and terrible grin spreading across his face. “Otherwise, I’d show you just how misplaced your pity is.”

The Jedi Healer stared up at Festus, but said nothing more.

Air gusted around them as the Master’s shuttle landed in the no-man’s-land between the troop transports and the prisoners. The ramp lowered, and Ferrus exchanged a sideways glance with his twin. Festus pressed his lips in a thin line and shook his head a little. It was their first time leading a mission like this, and things hadn’t exactly gone as planned.

Darth Krayt emerged from the shuttle, accompanied by one of the oldest and most trusted of his Lessers, a white-haired human man named Sivren, who acted mainly as the Master’s personal aide and as an intermediary between the Sith and their military forces. Ferrus had never known anyone with less facial expression than Sivren. Well, except maybe Darth Satrus. Force, he was glad Satrus wasn’t here. Creepy bastard.

He felt a sharp mental prodding from his twin and resisted the urge to shoot Festus a glare. Their master strode across the divide, stopping in front of the line of captured Jedi. Sivren hung back a few steps, tapping away at his datapad.

“What happened?” Lord Krayt said without preamble, eyes sweeping over the prisoners.

“They knew we were coming,” Festus said. Though his voice was steady, Ferrus sensed the faintest tremor of uncertainty through their bond. “One ship made it out.”

Lord Krayt was silent, still examining the captive Jedi. He walked a few paces down the line, slowly. Then he turned and looked back at Ferrus and Festus. “And Skywalker’s apprentice?”

There was a brief spark of rage from Festus, one that he smothered almost instantly, maintaining his composed exterior. “She wasn’t here, my lord.”

Their master studied them both for a moment, and Ferrus had to force himself not to shrink under his gaze. “My information placed her here,” Lord Krayt said, his voice quiet, maybe dangerously so. “Are you saying you let her escape?”

It was possible that the princess had been on the fleeing Jedi starship, Ferrus knew. But as they’d torn through the base, his brother had insisted – angrily and more than a little violently – that she wasn’t there at all. That she might never have been there to begin with.

Festus was taking the whole Vjun thing pretty personally. Not that Ferrus really blamed him. They’d both nearly died, after all. He tried not to wince as he thought of the still-fresh lightsaber wound across his abdomen. A few centimeters deeper, and he might never have gotten back up. To top it all off, he’d been knocked out by that weakling Ames, and with only a few punches, too—

He realized, with a start, that the Master was staring right at him. Ferrus swallowed as inconspicuously as he could, but there was little moisture in his throat, and the smoke was making it hard to breathe.

“No, Master.” His brother’s voice was perfectly even, betraying not a trace of the roiling fury that had become a near constant since Vjun. How the hell did he manage it? “She wasn’t here,” Festus insisted.

Lord Krayt folded his arms over his armored chest. “So you say.” There was a coldness in his tone that Ferrus wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before, at least not directed at either of them. “But you can’t know for sure, can you, my young apprentice? Because you foolishly allowed some of the Jedi to escape.”

That last wasn’t a question, and it definitely didn’t require a response.

Festus was silent, and Ferrus allowed himself to wonder why Skywalker’s apprentice was suddenly so important to the Master. She was just a girl, the daughter of a dead traitor, and she didn’t even seem particularly powerful or skilled. He had to be missing something there.

“Well,” Lord Krayt said, looking down at the prisoners once more, “let’s see if you managed to capture anyone useful.” He walked over to the Jedi Healer and stopped in front of him. “You. What’s your name?”

The Jedi remained silent, staring up at the Master of the Sith.

Lord Krayt sighed and shook his head. “Very well,” he muttered. Then he raised a hand toward the Jedi, and the man doubled over, groaning as if under extreme pressure. On either side of him, the children drew back in horror; more than one of them began to cry.

“Orion Tivas,” the Master said softly, ignoring the noise. “A fairly skilled Healer, I see…” Lord Krayt tilted his head to one side and smiled slightly. “So, it was Jysella Horn who escaped. How noble of you to sacrifice yourself for her, even if you couldn’t save everyone. A true Jedi… although I suppose you would have done it anyway, wouldn’t you? Love is irrational like that, I remember well.”

The Jedi Healer grunted something unintelligible as he looked up, still trembling from the force of Krayt’s invasion. “You… won’t find her,” he said through gritted teeth, gasping in pain. “You won’t find any of them.”

“You think not?” Krayt twisted his hand, and the Jedi let out another pained gasp. “Your mental shielding is impressive, I’ll grant you. But I’ve broken far greater minds than yours, so unless you have a death wish or a desire to spend the rest of your short life trapped by your own insanity, I suggest you stop struggling so much.”

The Jedi shook from the effort of fighting off Krayt’s attack, and then he fell forward on the ground and let out the sort of scream that Ferrus had grown accustomed to hearing on Vjun, echoing from Doctor Mezzon’s laboratory. A few of the children screamed, too, and then all was silent.

The Master lowered his hand. “Thank you, Orion Tivas. You’ve been very helpful.”

The Jedi lay on the ground, hair drenched with sweat and tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Ferrus looked away from the Jedi, thinking he might catch his brother’s eye; but Festus was staring straight ahead, his expression and his presence in the Force unreadable. Not again, he thought. Festus didn’t close himself off from their bond all that often anymore, but Ferrus still couldn’t help bristling every time he did.

Lord Krayt raised a hand in the air, motioning over his shoulder for Sivren to join them. His aide stepped forward quickly. “My lord,” he said in the clipped manner Ferrus usually associated with the Sith Empire’s military forces. He wondered if Sivren had been a soldier once, before joining the ranks of Lessers. That might explain the lack of emotion. “I have word from Lord Dominius. He thinks he’s found another enclave, the one at—”

“Bakura.” Lord Krayt turned just enough to glance sidelong at the Lesser, a small smile visible beneath the line of his mask.

Sivren looked up from his datapad; if he was surprised at their master’s foreknowledge, he didn’t show it. “Yes, my lord. Lady Varice was able to track one of their couriers back to Salis D’aar.”

Lord Krayt stared down at the Jedi Healer, whose sobs had quieted to a muffled whimper. “The Jedi has confirmed it for us. Alert the fleet. The next target is Bakura.”

Sivren hesitated a moment, eyes scanning the datapad, then shifting up once more. “My lord, it seems Eradicator’s medical bay conversion is complete. If you no longer have need of the Jedi, the doctor says he’s happy to take them off your hands.”

Ferrus felt his hands curl into fists at his sides. I’ll bet he is, he thought bitterly. Was it too much to ask that Mezzon take a break from his constant need for butchery? Weren’t there more important things to worry about, like winning the damn war? How the hell was his grotesque, pseudo-scientific nonsense going to accomplish that?

Something pressed against his senses, a discreet mental nudge as his connection to his twin was restored. He glanced over and saw Festus tapping one finger against the side of his head.

Too loud, came the admonishing whisper of thought.

Ferrus narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond.

Lord Krayt looked back at the prisoners for a few seconds, frozen in what Ferrus might have thought was indecision, if he didn’t know his master better than that. Then he sighed and turned away from the Jedi, waving his hand in their direction. “Take them away.”

Soldiers appeared suddenly from all sides, jostling the prisoners to their feet. Ferrus and Festus moved automatically to assist.

“Not you two.”

Ferrus stilled, as did his brother. They didn’t dare exchange a look in that moment; they’d both heard the sharp, icy edge to their master’s tone.

Lord Krayt approached them slowly, head bowed, as though lost deep in thought. “Capture all the Jedi,” he said quietly before lifting his chin to look at them. “You failed to achieve your objective. I gave you one simple task, and you failed.”

Neither one of them spoke. It would be futile to argue with the Master.

“You will have time to reflect on your shortcomings during your next assignment.” Lord Krayt leaned forward, just enough to level them with his relentlessly penetrating stare; and Ferrus felt his final words like an unyielding fist around his heart: “Don’t fail me again.”

The displaced Jedi and their allies made it to the edge of the Unknown Regions intact, arriving at the coordinates Myri had given them just before the jump. Tahiri looked out at the black expanse of space around them, leaning forward in her seat apprehensively.

“It’s not like Booster to be late,” she said.

The comm crackled with Ben’s voice. “You’re sure you got the time and location right?”

Myri’s reply was devoid of her usual good humor. “Yes, I’m sure. You wanna question my intel, Skywalker?”

“Guys, look.” Tahiri glanced down at the navicomputer, then back up at the viewport as a red Star Destroyer came out of hyperspace above them.

“Told you,” Myri muttered.

Tahiri waited for the younger Antilles to hail the Errant Venture. A moment later a familiar and very welcome voice filled the cockpit.

“My friends,” Tekli said, “we are relieved that you are safe. Apologies for the delay, but we received an emergency signal from Jysella and had to take a detour. You’re clear to come aboard.”

The freighters docked first in one of the forward hangars while the X-wings made their way to one of the smaller bays.

“Meet you on the bridge,” Ben said.

“Copy that,” Tahiri replied as Deekmawr completed shutdown procedures. She leaned back in her seat and sighed. She was having trouble remembering the last time she’d gotten some decent rest.

After a few more seconds, she rose and followed the Noghri guardian down the ramp, reuniting with her friends from the other freighters. Valin’s relief was palpable as he came down the ramp of the Daybreak, holding both his children by the hands.

“She’s here,” he said, and Tahiri didn’t have to ask who he meant. His fear for his sister had been a rough current beneath his otherwise steady composure since they left Zihrent.

“She and Tekli are probably on the bridge with your grandpa,” Syal said.

Tahiri nodded in agreement. “We should get up there and figure out what went wrong. Deekmawr and Matabakh can take care of the kids for now.” She turned to the Noghri, who bowed their heads. Matabakh held out her hands, and Valin’s children reached out tentatively to take them. Together they made their way back toward the freighters, while the Jedi Council members, the Antilles sisters, and Ulin headed for the bridge.

When they reached it, the doors to the bridge were wide open, and Tahiri immediately recognized Booster Terrik’s massive figure; standing next to him, tucked against his side, was Jysella. Even though she hadn’t doubted Valin’s senses for a second, it was still a relief to see her friend with her own eyes.

Jysella broke away from her grandfather and ran into Valin’s arms. Tahiri watched the reunion for a moment, this one more desperate and sorrowful than the one on Haven only days ago.

“What happened?” Valin asked, holding his sister close.

Jysella’s eyes were shut tight, but Tahiri noticed a few tears slips from beneath her lashes. “They came right before nightfall, right after I felt your distress. Orion, he—” She pulled back and wiped her eyes quickly. “We didn’t have much time. They were in the enclave before we could gather everyone. I took the ones I could while Orion held them off.”

Valin ran a hand over his sister’s hair. “You did what you could, Jys.”

Jysella shook her head, eyes not quite focusing as she looked up at her brother. “It should have been me. He’s not a fighter; he barely even— and I just left him there, and the children…”

Valin held her tight, trying to whisper words of comfort; but they both looked up as Booster strode over and placed a hand on his granddaughter’s shoulder.

“Whether it should or shouldn’t have been you doesn’t matter now,” he said, in as gentle a voice as Tahiri had ever heard him use. “What matters is that Orion made a choice to save you and those kids, and now you have to honor that choice by being the best damn Jedi you can be.”

Jysella wiped her eyes again and gave Booster a weak smile. “I will, Grandpa.”

Tahiri cleared her throat. “I’m glad you’re safe, Jysella, and I’m sorry to interrupt.” She turned her attention to Booster. “We need to get to Zonama Sekot. It may be a risk to have so many of us in one place, but of all the enclaves, Zonama Sekot is the safest.”

Booster nodded. “I have the latest coordinates; we can be there within—”

“Sir,” a voice called out from the crew pit. “We’ve got another priority signal coming in.”

Booster turned abruptly toward the crew pit, deep lines etched in his forehead as his eyebrows furrowed. “From who?”

“Bakuran Defense.”

The older man uttered a string of Huttese obscenities under his breath as he moved toward the bridge’s holotransceiver, a raised, disc-shaped device wide enough to accommodate nearly a dozen people around its perimeter. “Bring it up here,” Booster ordered.

A less-than-life-sized figure appeared above the holotransceiver, wreathed in pale blue light. Tahiri’s stomach sank as she realized who she was looking at. The Jedi and their allies surrounded the table and watched in silence as the message began to play.

Ben popped the canopy of his X-wing and pulled his helmet off with a sigh of relief. He looked across the hangar bay for Anakin and spotted him two ships away, going through the exact same motions. A ladder was brought over to the side of Ben’s ship, and he used it to climb out. When he reached the deck, he made his way over to his grandfather.

Anakin was still sitting in the cockpit of his X-wing. Ben looked up at him and raised both eyebrows. “Should I give you two a minute?”

Anakin shook his head, a faint grin on his lips. “I like these new ships.”

“They’re like forty years old.”

Anakin made an amused sort of noise as he stood and swung his leg onto the ladder, beginning to climb down. A few steps from the bottom, he hopped off and landed solidly on the deck in front of Ben. “You really don’t like flying, do you?”

Ben frowned. “What makes you say that?”

Anakin’s smirk was more than a little annoying. “I don’t have to use the Force to see how relieved you are to have your feet on solid ground again. Well, solid metal, anyway.”

“I’m relieved because we got away from the Sith and no one died, not because I don’t like flying. There’s a difference.”

“Sure,” Anakin said.

Before Ben could think of a retort, Elias jogged over to them. “Crew chief says the others are in the forward hangar, but we can meet up with them on the bridge.”

Ben nodded. “Find out where they’re taking the kids, and you and Anakin go join them. I’ll head to the bridge, see what our next move is.”

Elias and Anakin hesitated a moment, then left him to go find the younglings, leaving Ben alone in the middle of the bay. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong still. Yes, they’d gotten away from Zihrent in one piece, but how had the Sith found them in the first place? No holotransmissions had gone out from the secret base or been received, so there was nothing for the Sith to intercept. It was possible that Jacen might have known about Zihrent through Aunt Leia, but Ben didn’t think so. What, then? He’d destroyed the homing beacon before they travelled to the base, so that wasn’t it. Had the enclave on Bakura fallen without them knowing? Could the Sith have ripped the information out of Gren or Malinza? No, he didn’t think they even knew about Zihrent, at least not its name or precise location. And if something had happened to Gren, his brother Orion would have sensed it before the Sith ever reached Haven.

Ben was still puzzling over what had happened when he arrived on the bridge to find Tahiri, Valin, Tekli, Karanya, Ulin, Booster Terrik, and the Antilles sisters standing in a circle around a holotransceiver that had just finished a transmission.

“What was that?” he said as he approached. The grim set to their faces and their shock and sadness in the Force hit him hard.

Tahiri opened her mouth to respond, then shook her head and pressed the replay button. Ben felt a jolt of recognition as a slender, raven-haired woman appeared in miniature before them. Her sharp, mismatched eyes watched something beyond the projector field for a moment before turning forward.

“This is Malinza Thanas on Bakura, sending a message to my fellow rebels and to the Jedi Council. The Sith Empire has blockaded the planet and is sending troops to the surface as I record this. We will attempt to repel them, but I fear escape is no longer an option. We need—”

The transmission cut off there, and Malinza Thanas disappeared. An eerie silence followed, punctuated by the hum of equipment and the electronic staccato of keystrokes drifting up from the crew pits.

Booster broke that silence first, shutting off the holotransceiver as he did so. “It’s a trap,” he said in his usual blunt manner.

Across from him, Ben rubbed a hand over his jaw and shook his head. “Of course it’s a trap,” he spat out. He was starting to feel like his whole existence was a series of traps. He looked around at the others gathered on the bridge.

“Do you think they know about the enclave?” Karanya asked.

“Not necessarily,” Syal said. “Bakura’s been a hub of rebel activity for some time now. I’d be surprised if it wasn’t on the Empire’s short list of targets for conquest.”

Valin didn’t look convinced. “The timing is pretty suspicious, though.”

Ben glanced over at Tahiri, who was staring at the place where the hologram had been. “Booster,” she said, “can you give us a conference room with access to the HoloNet?”

The older man nodded. “Sure can. Myri knows the way and can take you to it. Meantime, I’ll get us underway to Zonama Sekot.”

Ben and the others followed Myri as she led them off the bridge and down the corridor to a modestly-sized conference room; she stayed outside with Syal and Ulin as the Jedi crossed the threshold. Ben was a little surprised when Tahiri turned and beckoned for the three non-Jedi to join them.

“This doesn’t just concern the Jedi,” she said. “Your input and expertise are what’s needed now.”

Myri and Syal sat down between Tahiri and Valin, while Ulin took a spot next to Ben and Tekli. Once they were all seated, Tahiri activated the holotransmitter. It took a couple of minutes, but the image of Danni Quee Dreiz appeared in the empty space between Jysella and Karanya. The weariness in her face said it all.

“I take it you’ve seen Malinza’s transmission?” Tahiri said.

“Yes,” Danni replied. “I tried to contact Gren at the enclave on Bakura, but I couldn’t get through.”

Ulin cleared his throat and leaned forward in his seat. “They’ve probably blocked or disabled HoloNet access to all of Bakura. Subspace comms might be intact, as long as the Empire hasn’t taken out any of the relays that serve that sector. We can try to contact them through those channels.”

“No,” Ben cut in. “If the planet is under a blockade and threatened with invasion, Gren has probably already moved the enclave’s occupants and gone dark. But we should monitor all of our frequencies in case he does try to make contact.”

“I can do that,” Ulin said.

“What about Malinza and the Bakurans?” Jysella interjected. “Their fleet is no match for Krayt’s.”

“Theirs isn’t,” Myri said, looking over at her sister, “but the combined Rebel force might be able to break up the blockade.”

A hush fell over all assembled. Ben’s skin prickled; when he looked down at his arms he saw his hair standing on end. “There hasn’t been a combined offensive against the Sith since Coruscant,” he said quietly before turning toward Syal.

There was an angry but determined glint in Syal’s eyes. “It can be done,” she said. “It won’t be easy, but we have the resources to go up against the Sith fleet. With Bakura under siege, I don’t think we have much choice.” Syal looked from Myri to Ulin. “I need you two to get in touch with the Corellian rebels, the Mon Cals in exile, the Wookiees – any rebel cell that we’ve had contact with in the last year – and tell them we’re organizing a response to the Bakuran blockade. We’ll arrange a conference at eighteen hundred hours to discuss the plan.”

Ben was impressed. He knew Syal had taken a higher position in the resistance after she and Myri earned their bloodstripes defending Corellia, but he hadn’t realized just how much authority she had. He looked at Myri and smirked. “You’ve been keeping us in the dark,” he said.

“Compartmentalization of information,” Myri corrected, tapping a finger to her temple. “You can’t give up intel you don’t have.”

“It’s a good thing the Sith have never thought to capture you.”

Myri laughed. “Let them try.”

“Do you think they’ll really be willing to send ships to Bakura?” Danni asked.

Syal and Myri nodded in unison. “Yes,” the elder Antilles said. “Bakura is one of the last systems standing in open defiance of the Empire. They won’t want to lose it.”

Tahiri had been quiet for most of the meeting, but she spoke up now. “While you talk to your rebel contacts, we need to discuss what to do about the Jedi trapped on the surface.”

Myri and Syal took the hint, standing from their chairs and moving toward the door. “We’ll meet back here at eighteen hundred hours to discuss our plans with the other rebel leaders. I think you all should be a part of it as well.”

“Thank you,” Tahiri said.

Syal jerked her head in the direction of the door. “Come on, Ulin. We’ve got work to do.”

Ulin was staring down at the datapad in his hands. “Before we go, I think there’s something you all should see. I’ve been trying to slice Bakura’s HoloNet to see if it had been cut off or not. Turns out the Sith didn’t disable it; they’ve been blocking outside access and broadcasting this message to all of Bakura.” He held up the datapad so the others could see.

The image was fuzzy at first, but when it cleared up Ben recognized a mask made from vonduun crab and eyes that glowed yellow from behind it.

“People of Bakura,” Darth Krayt said, his voice lowered an octave but still recognizable to Ben. “My quarrel is not with you. You have among your population a group of Jedi fugitives. Return them to me, and my forces will leave your world in peace. Keep from me what is mine, and I will be forced to continue this blockade indefinitely. The choice is yours. Thank you for your cooperation.”

There were a few seconds of static before the message began to repeat itself. Ulin shut off the feed and set the datapad on the table.

“Well,” Valin said, voice solemn. “I guess that answers the question of whether they know about the enclave.”

Ulin stood up and patted Ben’s shoulder. “Sorry, kid.” He joined Syal and Myri as they exited the room. The remaining members of the Jedi Council looked around the table at each other, but Ben kept his eyes on the holotransmitter in the center of the table.

He hadn’t heard that voice out loud since Ziost; it didn’t paralyze him the way it did in his nightmares, but he could feel his hands getting clammy, his throat thick. The voice was every bit as calm and patient as he remembered it, both from their last encounter and from his days as an apprentice.

“Ben?”

Tahiri’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and after blinking a couple times he realized everyone was staring at him wide-eyed. There was something besides concern in Tahiri’s expression, though, and Ben’s heart sank as he recognized her suspicion.

She’d heard the voice, too, and she knew.

For a single second, Ben wished he could run far away and not have to explain anything or deal with the repercussions of his choice. Then that second passed, and he let out the breath he’d been holding. Time to come clean at last.

“It’s him,” he said. “He’s alive.”

While Tahiri had clearly understood his meaning, the other council members weren’t so quick to catch on. Next to him, Valin shifted in his seat and addressed him gently. “Who’s alive, Ben?”

The name came out a whisper. “Jacen.”

There was disbelief and denial at first, followed by shock and anger when they realized that not only was it true, but that Ben had kept it secret from them. He listened to their questions, their accusations – you didn’t tell us, how could you, you never said, what gave you the right – but inside, all he could hear was the wind whipping in his ears as he trekked across an ancient city on Ziost…

The citadel rose from the planet’s surface, a colossal, crumbling mountain of Sith history and artifacts. The dark side was strongest here, and for the first time since arriving on Ziost, Ben was afraid. He spent an hour wandering the citadel, searching for some sign of the Sith’s return, feeling the feral predators that stalked him from the shadows.

Finally, he was forced to admit that Myri’s information was correct and that Darth Krayt’s new order of Sith had not returned to claim Ziost.

Why, then, did he still feel drawn to it, as though it held some terrible secret that needed discovering?

The wind whistled in his ears as he climbed a ruined staircase leading into an old temple. The last few steps were missing; he leaped across the gap and landed in front of the cavernous temple entrance. He passed under the stone archway, entering a darkened interior that no amount of sunlight seemed willing to penetrate.

Even with the Force to guide him, the darkness became too much for him to bear, so he pulled out his lightsaber and activated it. The green blade cast an eerie pall over the inner sanctuary; Ben hadn’t realized he’d come this far. He was about to turn back when he noticed a piece of black cloth draped across the front of an altar. Everything around him was decaying and slowly becoming rubble, but the piece of cloth was fully intact. Then the cloth moved, and he realized a pair of pale hands was reaching out from under it, clinging to the altar like a lifeline.

“You seek the One Sith,” a deep voice rumbled from beneath the cloak. “Well, here I am.” Even though his presence was hidden from the Force, Ben knew without a doubt that this was the mysterious Sith Master, Darth Krayt.

The Sith stood and turned slowly to face him, and by the green-white light of his saber, Ben saw a man he knew all too well. A man who should have been dead.

“Hey, Ben,” Jacen said with a sad smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there staring at each other in the gloom. It felt like ages, though it might only have been seconds. Jacen opened his mouth to say something else, but as soon as he did Ben turned and ran out of the temple. He vaulted across the gap in the stairs, landing with enough momentum that it sent him tumbling down to the bottom of the staircase. The predators were venturing closer to him now, but he hardly noticed. He was running again, sprinting out of the citadel and across the arid plain.

When he finally reached the rocky outcropping where he’d stashed his ship, he realized two things.

First, that Jacen hadn’t attempted to chase after him.

And second, that just before he turned to run away, Jacen had uttered two words:

“I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t until Tahiri placed her hand gently on top of his that Ben realized he had a death grip on the edge of the table. He looked up into her green eyes, heart still racing from the memory.

“Let go, Ben,” she said. He released the table and took a long, deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said when he was able. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you. As members of the Council, you had a right to know.”

Most of the anger in the room had dissipated, replaced now by confusion and sadness and guilt.

“How did he survive?” Tekli asked. Ben saw unshed tears in her eyes; he wondered if they were for all the Jedi who had died in vain or if they were for the boy she had once been friends with.

“I don’t know,” Ben replied. “He only said a few words before I got out of there.”

Danni spoke next. “Has he been Krayt from the beginning? How long ago did you see him?”

“It was when I went to Ziost, about three years ago. I don’t know if he’s always been Krayt.”

“Three years?” The look on Karanya’s face was one of horror. “You’ve been living with this burden for three years?”

Ben nodded. For a minute he really thought Karanya was going to leave her seat and envelope him in a hug. He was saved by Jysella’s question.

“So now that we know Krayt is actually Jacen, what are we going to do?”

“We carry on as before,” Tahiri said, her strength filling the Force around them, calming their minds if only for a moment. “We come up with a plan to get Gren and his Jedi off Bakura. We work with the rebel forces to break through the blockade and free the planet. But first and foremost, we get the younglings who are here with us to Zonama Sekot, where they’ll be safe.”

Danni looked surprised but not at all upset.“We’re happy to shelter them here,” she said. “Booster has our coordinates, if you—”

“We’re already on our way,” Tahiri interjected. “Sorry, but we didn’t have time to ask.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“Good. Now, we only have a few hours before our conference with the rebel leaders. Let’s come up with an exit strategy for our stranded Jedi.”

The look Tahiri gave him before returning to her seat told Ben that once all of these meetings were over, the two of them were going to have a very long conversation.

“That was some pretty impressive flying back there.”

Anakin looked up at Elias and cocked his head to one side. “Thanks,” he said as he gently readjusted the child who’d fallen asleep in his arms. Dolan was draped across his lap, sleeping so deeply Anakin wasn’t sure anything short of an explosion would wake him. Davin was propped up against the wall next to Anakin, head beginning to drop onto his elbow.

“They’ve really taken to you,” Elias said, gesturing toward the twins. “They’re usually only like this with Tahiri and Ben.”

“They had a rough day,” Anakin said. He didn’t want to admit to himself how glad he was that they were no longer avoiding him. “They were probably too tired to care where they fell asleep.”

“Maybe.” Elias sat down on Anakin’s other side, careful not to bump Dolan’s outstretched legs. “So, where’d you learn to fly like that anyway?”

How much truth to reveal? That was the balancing act he had to maintain anytime he talked to someone other than Ben. Luckily there wasn’t too much to conceal when it came to his piloting skills.

“I taught myself, mostly.”

“Most of us are self-taught, too; I’m nothing special, though. Not like an Antilles or a Solo or a Skywalker.” Elias nodded toward the twins. “These two could end up being the best starpilots in history with their lineage. They’ve got blood from all three, plus a helping of Fel genes for good measure.”

“Antilles… any relation to those two sisters?”

Elias smiled a little. “Yeah, Syal and Myri are technically as closely related to Davin and Dolan as Ben is. They were Jag’s first cousins.”

“Jag?”

“Jagged Fel. Davin and Dolan’s father.”

Ben hadn’t said much about the father of Jaina’s children, only that he’d died before the twins were born. “He was a pilot, too?”

“One of the best. He could keep up with any Jedi and flew circles around most. Probably one of the reasons Jaina liked him.”

Anakin allowed himself a small smile at the thought, at the rightness of it. “So you knew them well? Davin and Dolan’s parents?”

Elias made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Nah, I was just a kid in the academy on Ossus. I knew them by reputation only. Met them a couple of times, but not much more than that. Tahiri, my master… she was really close with both of them, so I heard plenty of stories.”

Anakin hesitated a moment before asking his next question. “Did you know Jacen Solo?”

Elias didn’t answer at first. He looked away, staring down the hall for a few seconds as if he expected someone to be there. “No,” he said at last. “I didn’t know him. After what he did to the galaxy, to the Jedi… to his family? Makes me glad I didn’t. He’s been dead eight years, and we’re still paying for what he did.”

Anakin nodded slowly. He raised his free hand and brushed a few strands of hair out of Dolan’s face. “I guess these two have a pretty complicated legacy.”

“Yeah.”

“And an even more complicated family tree.”

Elias grinned. “Tell me about it. Do you have any idea what it was like after Ben and I became friends? Seemed like every friend and family member he introduced me to was some famous person I’d only ever seen on the HoloNet. People like Han and Leia Solo, and Lando Calrissian… I even got a few flying tips from Wedge Antilles, before Corellia…” He trailed off, shaking his head, and his presence felt suddenly grim. “You know one of the scariest things about this war? We’ve lost so many of our heroes, the people we looked up to, who we thought could face anything. The best swordsmen, the best pilots, the best strategists… and they died. They died bravely, but they still died. And now we’re all that’s left.”

Anakin watched the other Jedi for a few seconds before a thought struck him. “How old are you?”

Elias glanced over at him, confused. “Twenty-three.”

Anakin laughed a little under his breath. “Me too. And you know what? You crashed a Star Destroyer today, and you fought off whole squadrons in a decades-old starfighter. I think even your heroes would be impressed with that.”

Elias shrugged and smiled down into his lap. “Thanks.” Then he leaned forward and pushed himself up onto his feet. “Well, I’d better go see how Arden and Ames are doing with the rest of the little ones. You okay with these two?”

“Yeah,” Anakin replied, gently touching a hand to Dolan’s cheek. “We’re good here.”

Elias nodded. “It was real nice talking to you.”

“You, too.”

As Elias walked away, Dolan began to stir. Anakin withdrew his hand and watched as the boy slowly sat up.

“Where’s Aunt Tahiri?” Dolan mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“She’s in a meeting, I think.” Anakin shifted a little so that Dolan could get more comfortable. Next to him, Davin’s head dropped onto his elbow, and the boy settled in closer to Anakin’s side.

Dolan looked over at his sleeping twin brother, then up at Anakin, a bit of wary suspicion darkening his bright green eyes. It passed quickly, though, and Dolan stared down at the floor. “Thanks for saving me,” he muttered.

Anakin reached out to tousle his grandson’s dark hair, and the stiffness in Dolan’s presence relaxed a little. “You’re welcome.” He took a deep breath and bent his head to catch the boy’s eye. “And I’m sorry about Tatooine. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Dolan shrugged but avoided his gaze. “I wasn’t frightened.”

He felt that denial like a vise around his heart. How many times had he tried to convince himself he wasn’t afraid? How many Jedi had done exactly the same over the millennia? How many Sith?

“Even so,” he said as gently as he could, “I am sorry.”

Dolan nodded, then scooted over to sit next to Anakin. He didn’t say anything more, and for once, Anakin didn’t mind the silence.

Not long after, he sensed a familiar presence drawing near. Dolan perked up, and Anakin didn’t miss the pure happiness that shot through the boy as he felt his cousin’s unmistakable light.

Allana turned the corner and smiled at them, shaking her head as her eyes drifted to Davin’s sleeping form. “You guys weren’t tired, were you?”

“Nope,” Dolan said with a grin. He climbed to his feet and strode forward to wrap his arms around Allana’s waist. She embraced him for a moment, and Anakin could feel the simple contentment that filled them both. He also sensed her hesitation, and he realized – with a sinking feeling – that she came with news.

Their brief respite was over.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen

When the Jedi Council’s meeting finally came to an end, its members filed out of the Errant Venture’s conference room one by one. Tahiri could sense their lingering shock, as well as weary acceptance of the knowledge Ben had dropped on them all. Valin was the last out the door, and he turned back to her. “You coming?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He nodded, eyes flitting away for a split-second to look over her shoulder. Then he followed after the other council members.

Tahiri closed the door and turned to face the man still seated at the table. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Ben was slow to look up at her and even slower to respond. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “Guess I thought if no one else knew, that would make it less real.”

Tahiri drew a sharp breath, struck suddenly by all that the truth entailed. Jacen Solo was alive. Jacen. Anakin and Jaina’s brother, her friend, the person she’d confided in most during those first months after the Yuuzhan Vong War ended, when she’d struggled to adapt to peacetime and the slow, almost otherworldly pace of life on Zonama Sekot. It had been such a marvel, to watch him among the people and plants and wildlife, as if he’d never picked up a weapon in his life. She knew better, though. Knew that despite his desire to live out a quiet existence, his spirit was still restless. Not restless in the way Anakin had been, or Jaina, or so many of their family and friends, yearning for adventure and action and the next great challenge. No, it was a restlessness born from knowledge, from learning too much of the evils that lurked in the shadowy fringes of men’s hearts, and from knowing that he might be the only one who could stop them.

He’d only mentioned it once, as they sat under the boras one night and basked in the glow of the millions of bioluminescent insects occupying the lower branches. He spoke of the battle with Onimi and the immense, awesome power that had flowed through him as he achieved complete and perfect unity with the Force. How he knew in that moment he would never achieve it again, but that he would spend the rest of his life trying.

She’d asked why he would bother trying if he already knew he was doomed to fail.

He’d smiled that lopsided Solo smile and gazed up at the gently swaying foliage. “Because at the end of the day, I’m still just an imperfect person, and the Force is still the Force. What do I truly know of its vastness, its possibilities? What do I know of my own limits? Why should I let my own perception of myself stop me from learning more, if there is more to be learned?”

He’d grown quiet, then. “I believe this peace will last. I want that more than anything. But if something new threatens that peace, don’t I owe it to the galaxy and to the people I love to stand in the gap?”

“You’re not the only one who bears that responsibility,” she’d reminded him.

“What if I could be?” he’d whispered.

A heavy stillness had descended on the bora grove as his question hung in the air between them. “You’re not all powerful, Jacen.”

He’d closed his eyes and released a breath into the night. “I don’t want to be all powerful, Tahiri. And anyway, I don’t have to be all powerful.”

He didn’t say more after that, but she’d always suspected he’d left that thought unfinished.

Tahiri felt another breath hiss past her teeth as Ben finally met her gaze, drawing her back to the present. She’d wondered why he’d become so withdrawn these last few years, hiding from the Force even when he was safe among his family and friends. Now she knew.

“You’re not as angry as I thought you’d be,” Ben said in that simple, detached way of his, the one he used whenever he tried to convince himself he wasn’t worried or afraid.

Another breath, in and out. Wasn’t she angry? Shouldn’t she be? She thought of Jacen again – Jacen – still out there, manipulating events for Force knew how many years, and all for what? She didn’t know, could hardly even form a theory or a plan because Ben had kept it a secret from her, from all of them…

Her next question, she supposed, was also the most obvious one. “Are you going to tell Allana?”

Those blue eyes went wide with a sudden and primal terror. “No,” he said without hesitation. “Absolutely not.”

She found in that moment that she didn’t even have the energy to be frustrated with him. “Ben, you can’t keep this from her. You know you can’t.”

“Watch me,” he snapped, more than a hint of old rebellion in his tone. Tahiri bit the inside of her lip and continued.

“She’s going to find out, one way or another. Do you really want her to hear it from someone else, knowing that you kept it from her?”

“I want her to be safe.” His defiance crumbled away, leaving naked fear in its wake. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks of me, as long as she’s safe.”

Tahiri paused, carefully weighing her next question. “Does that mean you’re not bringing her with us to Bakura?”

Ben gave her an exasperated look. “Of course not. You think after everything that’s happened that I’d take her straight to the front lines?”

“I think you’re her master, Ben. You chose to take on that role, but ever since then you’ve been pushing her aside. And then you decided to go undercover for six months, and not only did you leave her behind, you took two of her friends with you instead.”

“I took two Jedi Knights.”

“Knights, apprentices… they’re teenagers, Ben, just like she is. If Bakura isn’t too dangerous for Kohr and Ames, why is it too dangerous for Allana?”

“Because she’s family,” he said, standing up with enough force to send his chair skidding backward. “She’s his family, and if I know him at all, I know he’ll want her back. I’m not going to let that happen, Tahiri. Not ever.”

Ben put a hand on his forehead and turned away from her, taking a few steps toward one of the conference room’s gray, featureless walls. “She’ll understand why she can’t go,” he said, quieter this time. “She’ll understand that a battle with the bulk of the Sith fleet is too dangerous for an apprentice. She’ll listen to reason.”

Tahiri watched the back of his head for a moment, already half-regretting what she was about to say. “You mean like you did?”

He spun around so fast, it was almost inhuman. “This,” he growled, “is not the same.”

She shook her head. “Wake up, Ben. How old were you when you ran off to face Jacen? Fifteen? It’s exactly the same.”

“She’s not me, Tahiri!” He raised a hand and jabbed his fingers into the center of his chest. “I was stupid! I was stupid, and I was reckless, and my dad died because of it. Allana’s not like that. She doesn’t lose her head like that.”

The grief and desperation in his voice was almost enough to make her look away. “Who are you trying to convince, Ben?” she said as gently as she could manage. “Look, I’d love to just leave her to a peaceful life on Zonama Sekot, but you know she’d never stand for that, not when there’s a whole galaxy out there suffering. The Jacen we knew might be dead, but every good part of him lives on in her. She’s already involved in this war, whether you like it or not. The least you can do is be by her side through it.”

Ben’s expression hardened, his mouth set in a grim, determined line; and Tahiri couldn’t help seeing Mara as she stared at him. Attack mode, she thought, bracing herself.

“Would you still feel the same way if we were talking about Davin and Dolan?”

Tahiri let out a long, slow breath. Definitely his mother’s son, although she had a feeling Mara would have been less than impressed with his tactics in this instance.

“I’m going to pretend you weren’t just using your eight-year-old cousins and the boys I’ve raised as emotional blackmail, and point out that our situations are not the same, for reasons I’ve already elaborated on. This isn’t about me or the twins. This is about you and Allana and what’s right.”

Ben met her eyes and shook his head. “It’s not fair, what you’re asking me to do. I’m sorry, Tahiri; I can’t tell her about Jacen, and I can’t let anyone else do it, either.” He turned to leave, pausing for a moment to look back at her. “Allana stays on Zonama Sekot. That’s not up for discussion.”

He walked out without saying another word, and Tahiri was left to stand alone in the stillness that followed. She thought about going after him, trying to convince him to see reason, when her comlink beeped on her hip. She lifted the device to her lips. “This is Tahiri.”

“We’re coming up on Zonama Sekot,” Booster reported, all business.

“Thanks, I’ll be up in a minute to prep.” She slid the comlink back onto her belt and looked around at the empty room.

“I don’t want to be all powerful, Tahiri. And anyway, I don’t have to be all powerful.”

Part of her thought it didn’t matter at all what his reasons were for choosing the dark side, not after the destruction and horror he’d inflicted on the galaxy; but there was a small part of her that wished she knew why he’d turned on them, why he’d betrayed everyone and everything he’d once claimed to love, and whether it had anything to do with that quiet conversation so many years ago.

The ride down to Zonama Sekot was uneventful, a fact for which Anakin was grateful, given the last few days. No, scratch that. Given the last few weeks, maybe longer. Even before he’d arrived here, he’d been embroiled in combat in the Outer Rim, with hardly any relief. And that was still a bit surreal to think of, the fact that he’d been a general leading armies not that long ago, while here he was a Force-wielding stranger of questionable sanity, who occasionally helped blow up starfighters and crash warships. He wouldn’t say that he missed fighting in the Clone Wars, exactly, although he did miss the familiarity of his enemies and the camaraderie of his men, and Obi-Wan…

He fought down a rush of grief as he stared out at the brilliant stretch of green across Zonama Sekot’s surface. He wished he could tell Obi-Wan all that he’d learned from Ben about the living world. His former master would have appreciated finally learning some answers to the planet’s numerous mysteries, answers they could never have imagined all those years ago.

The shuttle touched down in the center of a bora grove, surrounded on all sides by ships of various makes and models. A sort of outdoor hangar, it seemed. As Anakin stepped off the transport, he noticed the long branches of the boras stretching out above them, weaving together to create a dense canopy over the ships. For just a moment, he recalled what it felt like to be a twelve-year-old Jedi Padawan, stepping foot on this wondrous world for the first time.

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and Anakin turned toward them, only to be met by one of the strangest looking humanoids he’d ever seen. She was female, with skin so white it was nearly translucent. Every inch of that exposed skin was laced with dark blue tattoos that curled like vines. Her long ears were pierced all the way from lobe to point, and her lips bore signs of similar piercings, although nothing currently filled those holes. The tattoos and piercings weren’t what made her look strange, though; he’d seen all kinds of body decorations on many different species over the years and had grown accustomed to even the most outlandish designs. No, it was the way her skin was pulled tight against her skull, as if there wasn’t quite enough of it to cover her head. It was the left arm that – while organic – looked like it belonged to an entirely different species. Anakin flexed his prosthetic arm reflexively at the sight of it.

The woman didn’t seem to notice his reaction, smiling instead as Tahiri stepped to the front of their group.

“Gadma dar, Tahiri Veila,” she spoke in a halting, guttural language the likes of which Anakin had never heard. The woman reached out to grasp Tahiri’s arm, and the Jedi Master returned the gesture, each of them gripping just below the other’s elbow.

“Al’ tanna, Tai Yura Dao,” Tahiri answered, the throaty words seemingly as natural to her as speaking Basic. “Is Danni close?”

The alien woman nodded. “She is in the boras nursery, but I’m sure she has sensed your presence by now.”

“She has indeed.” A middle-aged human woman with shoulder-length blonde hair appeared in the clearing. Tahiri released the alien woman and strode over to embrace the newcomer.

“Danni,” she said, and there was no mistaking the relief in her tone. “Good to see you’re all still safe.”

The older woman returned the hug before pulling away to take in the assembled Jedi and children. “I’m relieved you all made it. When I couldn’t contact Gren…” She shook her head and offered a warm smile. “But I suppose we’ll be meeting with the rebel leaders shortly to discuss the plan?”

Anakin saw Tahiri nod in response, then wave a hand over her shoulder. Ben and the other council members broke away from their group to join her. The woman named Danni smiled again.

“Everyone,” she called out, “if you’ll please follow Tai Yura, she’ll take you to the enclave so you can get settled and have something to eat.”

Someone nudged Anakin from behind, and when he looked around, he found Allana sidling up next to him with a faint but devious grin on her face.

“First time seeing a Yuuzhan Vong in person?” she asked. “Don’t worry, the ones who live here are peaceful.”

Anakin couldn’t help the surprise on his face. “There are more here?”

“Oh yeah, whole clans of them. They settled here after the war. This planet was sort of born from their homeworld, so they have a spiritual connection to it.”

“And they don’t mind sharing it with the Jedi?”

Allana shook her head, thoughtful. “I don’t think so. It’s a big planet, and we have a spiritual connection to it, too.”

Anakin nodded his head and followed after Allana. Ben had told him about Zonama Sekot’s origins and its role in the Yuuzhan Vong war, but he hadn’t said much about the invaders themselves, other than the fact that they were from another galaxy, were prone to self-mutilation, used only organic technology, and had been completely cut off from the Force at some point in the past.

Okay, on second thought, maybe Ben had been pretty detailed.

A hand grasped at his, and he looked down to see Davin pulling him along the path. “Come on!” he said, brown eyes wide with excitement. “You gotta see the enclave!”

Dolan ran up alongside his twin as they half-skipped down the path. Long stalks swayed on either side of the trail, standing nearly three meters tall and tipped with translucent globes. Beyond the stalks was an endless expanse of knee-high grasses and massive, treelike boras. Calling it a forest didn’t fully capture the magnitude of the delicately balanced ecosystem or the sentience that bound it all together. The people who lived here had another word for it – the tampasi, if he remembered right.

The twins circled around Allana as they continued jogging ahead, Davin carrying on a near-constant stream of chatter while Dolan supplied a word here and there. During the shuttle ride, Allana had mentioned that she and the twins had spent significant portions of their childhood here, in Zonama Sekot’s secret enclave. The boys, it seemed, were happy to be home. Anakin couldn’t blame them one bit. In a galaxy torn apart by war, this world was as close to paradise as most worlds came.

After a short walk, the displaced Jedi arrived at the enclave. There were about a dozen pre-fab buildings arranged in two long rows on either side of the path, which doubled in width as it entered the clearing. At the far end of the trail was a bowl-like depression that formed a natural amphitheater.

Anakin smiled as he watched the children disperse. Davin and Dolan had all but forgotten him, running down the path with several of their peers. Allana followed after, caught up in their wake, leaving him alone at the edge of the enclave.

Something rustled in the grasses next to the path, and Anakin turned toward the sound. An older woman with pale blue skin and long black hair stood near one of the boras – a native Ferroan, by the look of her. There was something different about her in the Force, something he couldn’t put his finger on. She raised a hand to him, motioning for him to join her. Curious, he left the path and strode through the field of grasses, following her deeper into the tampasi.

She stopped in a small clearing, a few meters wide, where only one shaft of sunlight broke through the dense canopy. Then she turned to him, and Anakin felt his eyes go wide.

He knew her face.

“Hello, Anakin. I didn’t think I would see you again. I was told you were dead.”

Anakin studied the woman, felt her strange, shifting presence. Here, but not here. “Jabitha?” he said, testing the name of the girl he had met all those years ago, frowning because it still didn’t feel right. He watched her watching him, a small, knowing smile on her lips, and suddenly her presence was more, was everything.

Oh. He understood now. “Hello… Sekot.”

The image before him smiled wider. He supposed it probably was Jabitha’s form Sekot had taken, and he wondered if that meant that she, too, was dead.

“You’ve been through much since we last met,” Sekot said, “but I still recognized you instantly.”

Anakin exhaled softly. “From what I hear, you’ve been through a lot, too.”

The image shimmered for a moment, color shifting in pearlescent waves across its surface. Jabitha disappeared, replaced by a young boy; Anakin realized, with a start, that he was looking at himself. His twelve-year-old double shrugged. “What’s a few decades when you’ve existed for millennia?”

“Existed, maybe. But your consciousness was still young when we met.”

“You remember.” Sekot studied him for a moment, tilting its head to one side. “There is something strange about you, though, isn’t there? I can feel it… the Force knows. I think maybe it sent you here.”

“Sent me?” That seemed like the only explanation, really, and yet he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on that possibility for long.

“Yes,” Sekot continued. “You must have wondered why you’re here.”

“Maybe you could give me a hint, because I’m coming up short.”

“I’m no more partial to the mysteries of the Force than you or anyone else in this galaxy; I’m simply larger, with a unique and greater perspective. An immensity, but also a unity, as you once described me. If I see more clearly, it’s because I see through many eyes, and have connected with so many lifeforms.”

Sekot’s form shuddered again, and the image of Anakin’s younger self was replaced by a man, one who looked to have only recently shed the last vestiges of boyish youth. His brown eyes were full of warmth, which was perhaps the reason it took Anakin several long seconds to recognize the image of his grandson.

Anakin swallowed hard as he looked into Jacen’s eyes. “How long have you known?”

“Not as long as you have, it would seem.” That voice. It wasn’t quite as deep as the one he’d heard on Vjun, and there was a gentleness to it that was completely at odds with the Sith Master who had torn him down. He felt his chest tighten as he realized who it reminded him of, and he wondered if anyone had ever told Allana how much like her father she truly was.

“I thought I felt him,” Sekot said. “A few times, reaching out for me. But the contact was always fleeting. You see, we had already started sheltering the Jedi here, and I knew I couldn’t allow any presence to track me, no matter their intentions.”

“You never told anyone?”

“As I said, the contact was fleeting, and I thought perhaps I was imagining it. Missing an old friend.”

Anakin studied the face before him, the face of his grandson, the face of his legacy in more ways than one. “What caused him to fall?”

The sadness that stirred in the air around Sekot was surprising in its depth. The image of Jacen took a step toward the sunlight, one hand brushing the tops of the long grasses that surrounded them. “I don’t have the answer you seek. The Jacen Solo I knew had many paths open to him, and for a time he was content to explore them here. But he felt called to greater, more expansive knowledge, and so he left to travel the stars and explore the Force in new ways.” Sekot paused, and it felt to Anakin as though the whole planet took a breath. He supposed that wasn’t far from the reality of it. “Jacen had an enormous capacity for empathy, and his love for his family was deep and abiding, even though he felt somehow separated from them by all that he’d endured.”

Anakin thought he understood that feeling, in a way. All the time he’d spent away from Padmé over the last three years, and the secrets he’d kept from Obi-Wan during that same time… he’d held himself at a distance from them both, without even realizing it.

“You know,” Sekot continued, “many years ago, Jacen refused my help in the war against the Yuuzhan Vong, saying that he couldn’t accept it if it meant committing genocide. He wanted an end to the fighting as much as anyone, but he believed such a course of action would turn his people into the very monsters they sought to repel.

“Luke chose differently, when I offered. He was bitterly torn, as Jacen was, but he was willing to accept my help, because he loved his son, and he wanted a brighter future for him and for all the other people in this galaxy. Even if it meant the end of the Yuuzhan Vong.”

Something rankled inside Anakin at that, at the suggestion that his son was anything less than the compassionate, noble-hearted hero he knew him to be, or that Jacen had ever held any moral superiority over him.

Sekot raised one eyebrow. “I make no moral judgment, Anakin. Just as I have never judged you for what you did to protect me and my people so long ago.”

Anakin let out a heavy breath and shook his head. “There’s a lot more you could judge me for.”

The image of his grandson frowned. “Is that what you want? To be judged? To be told you are damned? That there’s nothing left for you to do but die for your crimes?”

Anakin opened his left hand and stared down at it, at the inflamed circle of skin in the center of his palm. Then he closed it into a fist. “Maybe that’s what I deserve.”

“But is that what will do the most good? Isn’t it your calling as a Jedi Knight, to be a guardian of peace and justice? To protect those who cannot protect themselves?” Sekot raised one hand toward that single ray of sunshine. “To be a light against the darkness?”

Anakin watched the interplay of sunlight and shadow between Sekot’s fingers, unable to shake the grief that clung to him.

Sekot closed its eyes, still reaching toward the sun. “I once told Jacen that we all have two choices when faced with danger: to run, or to fight.”

“Are you telling me to run, or are you urging me to fight?”

“Neither. I wouldn’t presume to advise you of which course is best. That’s a choice only you can make.”

“Great,” Anakin muttered, raising both eyebrows.

“However,” Sekot continued, slowly lowering its hand, “there is a third option, one that I learned from both Jacen and Luke.”

“And that is?”

Sekot met his eyes and smiled. “Stand.”

The light faded, and when Anakin looked up, he realized the sun had begun to dip toward the horizon and was no longer visible through the gap in the canopy.

Stand. Was it really as simple as that?

“I sometimes wonder,” Sekot said quietly, almost a whisper, “if the only thing that made their initial answers different was that Luke had a child and Jacen did not.” Then the sentient planet’s image shrugged and raised a hand in the direction they’d come. “I suppose you ought to get back to the others. I suspect you won’t be staying here much longer. But it was good to see you again, my old friend.”

Friend. For some reason, Anakin was reminded briefly of his reunion with Artoo on the Daybreak. He looked at Sekot’s outstretched hand – Jacen’s hand – and in that moment, he felt utterly and achingly alone.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a rueful smile. “I guess it’s fitting that the last remaining people who knew me in this world and who I knew in mine wouldn’t even be people at all.”

“And yet you’ve made several new connections since you arrived here, haven’t you?”

He thought of Davin and Dolan running among the boras, so eager to show him their home. He thought of the way Tahiri had looked at him on Zihrent, the gratitude that had shone in her eyes, even though she had to know exactly who he was. Allana’s head resting against his shoulder as they watched the sunrise.

Ben smirking every time he called him Gramps, or reaching out to catch him on Vjun, or sitting next to him on the sands of Tatooine.

“Yes,” Anakin murmured, “I guess I have.”

The holoconference with the Rebel leaders ended late in the afternoon, as Zonama Sekot’s current sun sank lower in the sky, and its light stretched across the tampasi, filtering between the leafy branches of the boras. The meeting had gone well, Ben thought. Better than he could have ever dreamed. He’d had no idea how many rebel cells Syal and Myri were connected to, or how deep their influence ran. He was starting to believe they might actually have a chance of not only breaking the blockade of Bakura, but of bringing some actual hurt to the Sith fleet.

He and Tahiri walked in silence along the main path through the enclave. Karanya and Valin had already gone off to find their children, Karanya to shows hers to their new temporary home, and Valin to inform his that he would be shipping out with the Jedi strike team. Ben knew that it was weighing on Tahiri, the fact that she, too, would have to leave her children behind. But Davin and Dolan would be safe here, at least.

And of course, there was still something Ben needed to take care of before he left. He sighed and kicked at the dirt path beneath his boots. He wasn’t looking forward to it one bit, but it had to be done.

They found them in the amphitheater. Several of the children were putting on a silly, improvised performance while their audience – a small group of younglings and their parents, plus a few teenage apprentices – watched. Allana was sitting next to Anakin near the back of the amphitheater, with Davin and Dolan on either side of them. She looked over her shoulder, her expression shifting from carefree to guarded in an instant at the sight of him. Did she know what he’d come here to say, or was that just her automatic reaction to being near him these days?

Anakin and the twins noticed Allana’s distraction, and they turned and spotted Ben and Tahiri. The boys scrambled to their feet and launched themselves at their guardian; Tahiri caught them with practiced ease, sinking to her knees as she wrapped them in her arms.

“Are you done with all your meetings?” Davin asked quickly.

Tahiri’s presence was hesitant, but she favored them with a smile. “For now,” she said.

Ben looked over her head at Allana and inhaled. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

The twins continued to jabber away with Tahiri as Allana rose to join him. He caught Anakin watching them, but he ignored him, turning to walk back up the path. Allana followed after him, staying one step behind. When they were out of earshot of the others, he stopped.

“You’re leaving me here,” Allana said, failing to disguise the tremor in her voice.

Ben turned to face her, aware of the distance between them, how it seemed impossibly vast and uncrossable in that moment. “It’s for the best.”

“I know,” she said, glancing down at the dirt. “I’d just get in the way.”

Ben rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, something twisting inside him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She looked up at him, her gray eyes clouded with resignation and worry. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she replied, a low murmur.

He almost reached out to her then. He knew he should, and he couldn’t understand or explain why he didn’t. Would it fix everything between them if he did? Or would it just make it hurt more when he left?

“I won’t be gone long,” he said lightly, forcing some false cheer into his voice. “You won’t even miss me.”

I always miss you, she said in a whisper of thought, too pointed for him to ignore.

That twisting feeling again, so tight he almost couldn’t breathe from it. “Allana—”

He was interrupted by the return of Tahiri with the twins, and Anakin trailing after them. “It’s almost twenty hundred hours,” she said evenly, green eyes traveling slowly from Ben to Allana and back again. “Time to go.”

Ben swallowed and looked past her at Anakin. He hadn’t bothered asking whether his grandfather planned to join in the mission to free Bakura; he already knew what the other man’s answer would be, just as he knew it would have been futile to try to convince him to stay here. “Okay,” he answered, and took a step away from Allana. Next to Tahiri, the twins were silent. “Hey,” Ben said, catching their attention. “You guys behave for Allana and Master Nal, okay?”

They both nodded wordlessly. Davin tried to puff his chest out bravely while Dolan merely looked down at the ground, his long, dark bangs hanging over his eyes. Ben reached out to ruffle their hair, and while they didn’t relax as they usually did, he felt a swell of affection from each of them.

As the boys turned to Tahiri for one more goodbye hug, Ben saw Anakin wrap Allana in an embrace, then whisper something he couldn’t hear. She closed her eyes and laughed under her breath, hugging him tighter. Then they let go of each other, and Anakin walked over to join Ben and Tahiri.

“Come on,” Tahiri said softly, raising both eyebrows. “Our transport awaits.”

Ben nodded, and he and Anakin followed her up the path, the one that would take them away from the enclave and away from their family; and who knew if they would ever return?

He turned back once, just a brief glance over his shoulder as they reached the farthest boundary of the enclave, thinking - no, hoping – that he might see Allana still standing there in the distance. But the amphitheater had emptied, and the enclave’s occupants all returned to their homes; and there was no sign of her.

It was nearly dark by the time Allana returned Davin and Dolan to the cozy, temporary dwelling where Karanya Nal and her three children were staying. Though her cousins had been despondent most of the way home, they cheered up considerably when they walked through the door and saw Master Nal putting dinner on the table. The two boys ran to the kitchenette, peering into mixing bowls and examining the leftover ingredients scattered across the counter.

Karanya smiled at Allana as she set a salad bowl on the wooden table. “There’s plenty for everyone.”

Allana tried to smile for the twins’ sake. “Thank you, but I’m not very hungry. I was actually going to take a walk. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Not at all, sweetheart,” Karanya replied, smiling again as she wiped her hands on a towel. “I understand; it’s been a hard week for all of us. I’ll make up a plate for you, in case you’re hungry when you get back.”

“Thank you.”

Karanya looked over her shoulder, redirecting her attention to the twins. “Boys, would you go in the other room and tell the girls and Renner that dinner is ready?”

Davin and Dolan scrambled to obey, only turning back at the last second. “Bye, Allana,” Davin said.

Dolan waved. “See you later.”

She raised a hand to wave back, but they were already gone. She smiled one last time at Master Nal and promised to return before it got too late.

Once the door slid shut behind her, Allana took a deep breath. The air was so still tonight, even if the planet wasn’t. She had to admit, it was nice to be back on Zonama Sekot. She’d missed how alive it was. Of course, other planets were alive, too; but none of them could quite compare with a world that had its own lifeforce, its own sentience. She felt more at home here than she ever had living on Hapes. She supposed part of that had to do with how young she’d been when she left her homeworld. But she liked to think she would have felt this connection regardless of time spent elsewhere.

Allana tilted her head back to look up at the stars. They were different every time thanks to the massive hyperdrive engines that kept the planet on the move. She wondered if Ben and the others had left the system yet. She couldn’t feel them, so it was possible they were already on their way to rendezvous with the rebel fleet. Once again, she’d been left behind.

She understood Ben’s reasons this time, she really did. It didn’t make it hurt any less, but she got it. The barely contained fear in his eyes said it all. This was going to be a dangerous and important mission, and she would only be a hindrance to him.

As she wandered toward the edge of the enclave, she felt a slight disturbance in the Force. It was coming from one of the buildings the Jedi had constructed to serve as a classroom. Allana frowned. That building should have been empty at this time of night. She changed direction and headed toward the source of the disturbance, her path lit by globes of bioluminescence that topped the tall plant stalks along the main trail.

She had almost reached the front door when she heard voices. Both were garbled, but one was definitely a child’s voice. They were coming from outside the back of the building. Allana walked around to the side, wondering if one of the adults had caught a youngling sneaking out, when she heard the child say something that stopped her dead in her tracks.

“The Jedi are on their way to fight you.”

It must have been a mistake; she had to have misheard somehow. Yes, she’d wondered how the Sith could have found them so quickly after Vjun, but this was a child she was hearing, not a spy. It wasn’t possible, was it?

Allana crept close enough to the corner of the building to peek out and see a small blond boy holding a tiny holoproj out in front of him. The hologram it produced was too small for her to make out the Sith Lord on the other end, but his voice was as clear now as if he were standing there.

“Don’t worry, Roan. They won’t be fighting me. I’ll be on Coruscant the whole time.”

Allana leaned against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut, continuing to listen to the carefully measured voice that accompanied the hologram.

“You have done very well, my son. I will retrieve you soon.”

Allana pressed a hand to her mouth, and her heart began to race. A few more words were exchanged between the boy and the hologram, but she could no longer hear them because someone else was speaking in her head, a fragment of a memory she’d almost forgotten she had.

—a warm kiss against her cheek—

—his fingers pulling away from hers—

—his voice, gentle and strong and sad—

“You remember how much I love you, no matter what. I’ll be back for you soon.”

He was alive. How was he alive? How was it even possible? Allana kept her hand clamped over her mouth because she was sure that if she didn’t, she would scream.

Suddenly it was quiet, and she realized the conversation was over. Even half paralyzed by shock she knew she had to stop the boy and turn him over to the Masters. As she stepped around the corner to confront the child, she ran smack into him, knocking him and his holoproj to the ground. Before he could get up, she called the holoproj to her hand and held it up between them.

“I heard everything,” she said. In the faint, bioluminescent glow of the gently swaying globes, Allana could see that the boy – Roan – was very young, probably no more than six years old. His brown eyes were wide, but not from fear, exactly. There was something else there, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Are you her?” he asked.

Allana’s eyes narrowed. Why wasn’t he more concerned about getting caught? “What do you mean?”

Roan’s gaze wandered, and his voice grew quiet. “One time I could feel my papa looking for someone. I saw a picture in my head… are you her?”

Allana felt her stomach lurch. With just a few words this kid had turned her entire world upside down. His papa. She stared at him hard, and as she did, she began to see the resemblance. It wasn’t terribly strong, but she could see it in the eyes and nose. Without thinking, Allana touched her own nose.

“Yes,” she said at last, feeling the full weight of that admission. “I’m her. I’m Allana, your… your sister.”

Roan nodded, reaching for the holoproj. “He’ll want to know right away.”

“No.” Allana withdrew the holoproj and tucked it under her cloak. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Roan dropped his hand. “Are you going to send me back?”

“Of course not, why—” She cut herself off as realization struck. “Do you not want to go back?”

He hesitated and bit his lip before shaking his head. Allana reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Has he ever hurt you?”

“No,” Roan answered, squirming a little. “He hurts everyone else.”

“And that’s why you don’t want to go?”

“Uh-huh. And because it’s scary there. I get sick a lot.”

Allana couldn’t bear to imagine what his life was like surrounded by evil and darkness all the time. “Come here,” she said, pulling him into her arms. She was surprised at how forcefully he clung to her. “It’s going to be okay. You don’t have to go back there ever again.”

Roan looked up at her, and she saw tears in his eyes. “He knows where I am. He’ll find me.”

Allana kneeled down in front of him. “This planet can travel through hyperspace, so we can go somewhere he won’t find you.”

“But you still have the holoprojector.” His voice was small as he pointed to her cloak. Allana looked down and pulled the holoproj out to study it.

“Is this a homing beacon?” she asked.

He nodded, looking so guilty she didn’t know what to say. The obvious solution to Roan’s problem would be to destroy the holoproj and the beacon along with it.

“I’ll be back for you soon.”

He was looking for her. How long had he been looking for her? Eight years? She swallowed hard and curled her fingers around the edges of the device.

“Roan,” she said, “let me make sure I completely understand you. If I were to take this holoproj somewhere else, somewhere far away from you, would he come for me?”

“Yes.”

“Would he know it wasn’t you with the beacon?”

Roan shifted uncomfortably. “No. I don’t think so.”

Allana tried to still the tremor in her hands. She pocketed the holoproj and held Roan at arm’s length. “Do you know how to get back to your room?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I want you to go back there now, and don’t tell anyone about this conversation. You’re safe here; no one is going to take you away. Understand?”

Roan nodded bravely.

Allana was about to send him on his way when a thought occurred to her. “Roan, have you met Davin and Dolan?”

“Yes. They taught me how to play ball.”

Allana reached out a hand to touch his cheek. “They’re your cousins. Our father and their mother were brother and sister.”

That seemed to interest him. “Like me and you?”

She smiled at him but couldn’t quite hide the sadness in her voice. “Yeah. Like you and me.” She hugged him one more time, then turned him back toward the enclave. “Now go on.” She watched until he disappeared into the shadows. Once he was gone, she stood up and leaned against the building, pulling out the tiny holoproj once more.

Eight years she’d thought him dead. Eight years wondering if he’d ever really meant to come back for her, wondering if she could have done more to bring him back to the light. The logical part of her reminded her that she’d been seven years old and that whatever choice he made, it didn’t have to do with her; but in her heart she couldn’t accept that because when you loved someone you had to think about their needs, too. So why hadn’t he realized she needed her father? Why wasn’t she enough to save him?

Allana closed her eyes, remembering his face as it had been – warm, kind, more handsome to her than any of the men on Hapes or elsewhere. He was still in there somewhere. No one could bury that much goodness. She wasn’t seven anymore. She could turn him back to the good side. If Anakin Skywalker could return to the light after being evil for so long, then so could Jacen Solo.

She had to go now, had to get the beacon off Zonama Sekot before the Sith could track it there. A few ships were kept in a sheltered grove nearby; if she hurried, she could be offworld and out of the sector before anyone realized she was missing. She turned the holoproj over and over between her fingers, heart still racing at the thought of what she was about to do. She should leave a message for Karanya, so she and the twins wouldn’t worry.

She should send a message to Ben.

Allana ran to the grove where the starships were docked, boarding the smallest one. It looked more like an auxiliary shuttle for a larger ship than a vessel in its own right, but it would do the job. While the ship ran through pre-flight diagnostics, she found the craft’s holorecorder and brought it online.

She stood still for a moment, staring into the faintly glowing lens of the recorder, her tongue suddenly too big for her mouth. She had to tell Ben. She couldn’t leave without telling him. But how to begin when she already knew what his reaction would be? She fidgeted with the hem of her tunic, searching for the right words.

In the end, she knew the only thing she could tell Ben was the truth. She owed him that much.

The ship hummed around her, systems chirping as one-by-one they were cleared for flight. Allana reached out to start the recording unit, then she folded her hands together in front of her and put on the best smile she could manage. Everything would work out, she knew, because the Force was with her. She could feel it.

As far as punishments went, serving as nanny and escort to Lord Krayt’s little protégé was hardly the worst hand they could have been dealt. Humiliating and far beneath them, yes; but they were still alive and still in the Master’s service. Darth Ferrus had to be at least somewhat grateful for that.

A sideways glance told him all he needed to know about his brother’s mood. Even without their bond and the Force, he could see Festus was still stewing over his defeat on Vjun and their failure at Haven. The flippancy with which he usually conducted himself had been replaced by steadily seething anger; one false word might send him into a rage that even Ferrus didn’t care to be present for.

“How much further, Yaanis?” Ferrus said, leaning forward to address the Rodian Lesser who was flying their shuttle. They should have been there by now.

“Two minutes to realspace, my lord.”

Ferrus sat back in his chair, wincing a little as he did so. The lightsaber wound across his abdomen was healing, but every now and again it burned enough to take his breath away. The Sith valued strength, but they also valued pain. Another punishment, another lesson learned.

“I can’t believe the little brat was on Vjun and we never even realized it.”

Ferrus looked over in surprise at Festus. Not surprise at what he’d said – he and his twin had already had this conversation several times in the days following Vjun – but at the fact that he’d spoken at all. Festus hadn’t said a word to him the entire trip, and now he wanted to talk?

Typical.

“Really?” Ferrus said. “You want to start this now that we’re about to bring the kid on board?”

“Afraid to hurt his precious wittle feelings?” Festus said with a snarl.

“Afraid to get in even more trouble with the Master!”

Festus looked like he was about to reach for his lightsaber, but at the last second he flung his hand in the air in a gesture more reminiscent of his usual self. “Like I care what Solo’s little orphan bastard tells the Master. He was lucky to be spared. He’s the Master’s pet project, nothing more.”

Ferrus crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat. “Which one was he anyway? I still haven’t figured it out. Hardly anyone knows what he looks like.”

Festus stared at him sidelong for a moment. “The blond boy who came with the last shipment. The one who made too much eye contact.”

“The one you said was creepy?”

His brother nodded. “His incredibly reliable source of intel is a fragging kid. And he’s punishing us?” The scorn in his voice was thick enough to choke on.

Ferrus rolled his eyes. The self-pity was getting ridiculous. “You’re the one who’s always saying to trust the Master’s plan. Why don’t you just say what you’re really mad about, huh? You went after the princess alone and were almost killed by some random Jedi who took you down without breaking a sweat.”

“He took me by surprise!” Festus snapped, slamming his fist against the hull. “You weren’t there, you don’t know what happened!”

Ferrus tapped a finger against his temple. “I’m always there, brother.” He was enjoying the role reversal, playing the calm and collected twin for once.

Festus snarled again and turned away, running a hand over his throat. That part of the fight Ferrus had seen – and felt – clearly through his brother. Windpipe constricting, legs kicking uselessly against the air, the Force refusing to answer his call. Ferrus had felt his brother’s utter helplessness as the mysterious Jedi Knight summoned the dark side in a way neither of them could have expected.

The shuttle dropped out of hyperspace at the coordinates sent to them from the beacon. A single small ship floated in what was otherwise a void – no nearby planets or other heavenly bodies. Just the lights from their ships and the far-off stars. Yaanis looked at them over his shoulder. “Shall I dock with the vessel, my lords?”

“Go ahead,” Ferrus said, scooting forward to get a better look at the craft. “How did he end up way out here in that thing? He’s just a little kid.”

“Who cares?” Festus replied. “Let’s just get this over with and get back to Coruscant.”

They waited in silence as their shuttle mounted on top of the smaller craft and extended its docking ring. Once the tube was sealed, Yaanis opened the hatch.

Ferrus dropped down first, followed by his brother. The ship they’d entered was quiet and appeared empty, but Ferrus sensed one lifeform. “Come on,” he said. “Kid’s in the cockpit.”

They walked straight down the short corridor to the cockpit door and opened it without any trouble. But when it slid open, it wasn’t a little boy who was facing them.

It was the princess-in-exile Allana Djo.

She held both hands out, her lightsaber resting in her palms. “I surrender myself into your custody,” she said with a calm, almost regal assuredness. Coming from such a tiny girl, it was strangely intimidating, though Ferrus would never admit to being impressed. She definitely wasn’t the pitiful, cowering child he remembered from the enclave.

Behind him, Ferrus felt his brother’s dark glee. “My, my, what an interesting turn of events,” Festus said. “I suppose this wasn’t such a bad trip after all.”

Ferrus reached out and grabbed the girl’s lightsaber. “You might wish you hadn’t given this up so easily,” he said, nodding his head in Festus’s direction. “He hasn’t been too happy about what happened the last time you two met.”

Festus pushed past him and grabbed Allana by the wrists, jerking her toward him. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss it on the way to Coruscant, won’t we, Allana?”

Despite her proximity to Festus, the girl managed to tilt her chin up and stare at her captor as though he were the dirt she’d scraped off her boots. “The only thing we’re going to discuss is how quickly you will deliver me to your master, Darth Krayt.”

Festus lifted one hand to touch the end of Allana’s braid. Then he tilted his head sideways and leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “And why would the Master of the Sith give a damn about you, little princess?”

Ferrus was surprised when she turned her head to look straight into Festus’s eyes, her face only centimeters from his. “Because,” she said, a faint smirk quirking her lips. “I’m his daughter. And he’s been looking for me for a long, long time.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty

In the Embrace of Pain, time has no meaning.

He could hang there for hours, for days, for weeks, even, and never know the difference. Isn’t that a little strange? How quickly time ceases to matter here. How it stretches on endlessly, and he’s nothing more than a blink of light in some vast and terrible void. That might not be so bad, he thinks, if it weren’t for the pain.

He doesn’t know how long he has been here. Long enough that he can no longer scream. His throat is raw from it. Raw and tired and…

He feels him, then. Coming closer now.

“Look at me, Ben.”

A hand grabs his chin, forcing his head up. That motion sends more pain wrenching down his spine.

“Tell me you understand now,” his tormentor says. “Please tell me you understand.”

He can barely feel his lips much less make them move to form words. His entire body, down to the last nerve, is a jumble of unrelenting agony. The man before him – his master, his flesh and blood – stares directly into his eyes. A wholly different but no less effective torture.

“When this is over,” he says, “you’ll understand why I did this, and you will stand by my side as you once did.”

Another spasm courses through him. He feels water on his face and becomes dimly aware that he is crying, sobbing, losing control of even the most basic functions.

In the midst of the pain, he feels a faint flicker of heat, a burning light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. It builds and builds, a blazing fire poised to become an inferno, and he realizes he knows that feeling in a way. His cousin takes notice of the powerful heat as well, and the overwhelming agony ceases.

“Uncle Luke.”

The new presence is angry, angrier than he’s ever felt it; but it’s also tightly controlled. The voice, though deadly, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“Release my son.”

He falls to the floor, free of the organism that has trapped him for Force only knows how long. As he lifts his head and cracks his eyes open, he sees his father walking toward them, hands empty at his sides, the fiercest, most frightening expression he’s ever seen on his face.

“I was only trying to educate him as I was educated,” his tormentor says with maddening calm.

His father’s voice is cold as death. “Vergere’s methods were brutal, and I’ll never say they were right – but she never meant to break you.”

“And yet I was broken, wasn’t I? Broken and reforged into something greater, able to reach a plane beyond even your understanding. I am making Ben strong, stronger than you or I could even imagine. Think of it, Uncle Luke. A galaxy where our family can be safe forever, a galaxy where your son is the reason for that safety.”

“Is he going to keep us safe from you ?” A new voice echoes in the chamber, and two more figures appear from behind his father. Jaina’s lightsaber is activated at her side, and next to her Jag Fel holds a blaster rifle in his hands.

He can practically feel the smile twisting his cousin’s lips. “Three against one? That’s hardly fair, Jaina.”

The building rumbles and quakes underneath him; Ben recognizes the impact of several concussion grenades going off at once.

“We have a little more than three,” Jaina says. Jacen tenses for the first time since they arrived.

“It’s not enough to stop—” His words are cut off as Ben’s father raises a hand and sends the Sith Lord flying across the room. The moments after are a tangle of sensations and images that he barely has time to experience let alone process—

Fear as a pair of hands lift him from the floor. A glimpse of his dad moving past him, not even sparing him so much as a glance. Jag’s arms and Jaina’s hands, alternately pulling and pushing him out of the chamber as sirens wail and the building trembles around them. Kicking against them, begging them to go back. The comlink on Jaina’s hip suddenly alive with chatter, with a voice he knows better than his own.

“Do you have him?” his mom says. The sound of her is like a wire pulled taut, but never breaking.

“Yes, we’re almost to the platform!”

Bright, blinding light exploding in his eyes; he’s isn’t sure if it’s fire or daylight, but Force it hurts. He stumbles, hardly able to feel his legs beneath him. Jag lifts him; he doesn’t have the strength to keep fighting against his grip. Somewhere inside him, in the place where his father has always been, he feels a gentle touch – a hand pressed to his cheek, so strong and so final.

“Almost there, Ben,” Jaina says, her voice close to his ear.

His feet hit cold durasteel, sloped upward, ridged at intervals… the ramp of a starship. They drag him up that ramp and inside, and right as they’re about to set him down, he feels it happen.

All the torment – the toxins in his veins, barbs prodding his flesh, the Embrace twisting and pulling him in every unnatural direction – none of that compares to the gaping hole that tears wide in his center, the rift created by the sudden and violent disruption in the Force that can mean only one thing.

He realizes he was wrong. He can scream, and he does. He falls to his knees, half-blinded by tears as he screams and sobs and reaches desperately for the brilliant star that is his father, knowing already that it’s in vain. His star goes supernova, and the shock wave in the Force is so massive that he thinks it might swallow him whole. He drags his fingers along the deck, digging in, curling them into fists that slam down hard against the floor; and he swears that no one else will die to protect him, and that he’ll never leave anyone behind ever again.

The Mon Calamari Star Cruiser Harbinger drifted in orbit over the third planet of the Troxar system. A veteran of many great and terrible battles, it nevertheless endured and now led a motley assortment of warships culled from all across the galaxy. From the Rebel strongholds in Sith territory to the last remnants of the once expansive Galactic Alliance, the call had been answered, and in greater numbers than could have been predicted. Just as their forebears had discovered decades ago when they came together to smash an empire – and just as the Jedi had discovered as recently as Zihrent – they knew they weren’t alone, and that they had more strength together than they realized.

Ben sat in the cockpit of the Daybreak, staring out the viewport as Elias piloted the freighter toward the Harbinger. The Mon Cal cruiser’s long lines and sloping curves filled him simultaneously with awe and dread. The sight was always an impressive one, and yet Ben couldn’t help being reminded of the last time he’d seen one of these ships, breaking apart in atmosphere over Coruscant.

Still, the fleet Syal had assembled at Troxar was impressive. In addition to the Mon Cal warships that made up the bulk of the fleet, Ben saw dozens of Corellian corvettes, a few Dreadnaughts of varying design, a Galactic-class battle carrier, and several ships bearing prominent MandalMotors insignia. There were even a few older Chiss clawcraft running patrols alongside the more familiar X-wing and A-wing fighters. He hadn’t realized there were so many people out there still fighting. And to think that they would risk so much so quickly when one of the last defiantly independent systems was threatened, that they wouldn’t hesitate to act… well, that, too, filled him with equal parts awe and dread.

Elias guided the Daybreak into one of the cruiser’s hangar bays, and the Jedi and their companions disembarked and were led to temporary crew quarters. Myri said they were still waiting on a few rebel cells, including a Hapan battle group that had splintered from the Consortium following Allana’s exile and had since grown to include the scattered remnants of several worlds’ defense fleets. They were supposed to be coming from somewhere in the Inner Rim – a tricky proposition, with how those hyperlanes were patrolled – but once they arrived, the attack would commence.

There was a subdued, yet oddly hopeful energy in the air as Ben and his companions made their way through the cruiser’s corridors. It crackled in the Force around him, as potent as static electricity charging the air during a storm. Many of the crew members they passed took notice of the lightsabers that hung from the Jedi’s belts, and the warmth that radiated from them in response was a balm on a wound Ben hadn’t even realized he carried with him.

Tahiri stopped their little group at a juncture and motioned for Anakin to join her. “You’re coming with me to medical,” she said, hooking her thumb toward the intersecting corridor. “Need to make sure you’re cleared for combat.”

Ben was surprised when Anakin didn’t try to argue the point. His grandfather raised one eyebrow at Tahiri, in what seemed more reluctant acceptance than anything else, and followed after her in the direction of the medbay. Ben and the others made their way to the crew’s quarters and were shown to their rooms. Kohr and Ames ducked into one, arguing over who would get which bunk, while Elias and Arden quietly slipped into another, faces reddening a little as they realized he’d noticed; Ben thought about reminding them that this was only a brief stay, but he decided not to embarrass them further.

He turned to his own quarters and stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him. The space was small and way too bright, but it was clean, at least. He crossed to one of the room’s two bunks and dropped his bag on it, then allowed himself to sink down onto the thin mattress. He took a breath that didn’t quite fill him, and leaned forward to rub his hands over his face.

“Tell me you understand now. Please tell me you understand.”

He dug in with his fingers, pressing harder against his brow, as if doing so would scrub the words from his mind forever. He didn’t understand. He would never understand, just as he would never be able to rid himself of the memory of that day, or of his foolishness in thinking that he could have made any kind of difference and somehow prevented every terrible thing that happened after.

Next to him, something inside his bag beeped; were it not for the stillness of the room, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it. Ben glanced over at the bag, wondering if there was anything in there beside his datapad that would make that sound. He rifled through his bag and retrieved the device, frowning as he realized that he had an unread message that was several hours old and that he didn’t recognize the sender. Had it been beeping intermittently in his bag that whole time? He must have been too preoccupied to notice.

He tapped the screen to access the message, then nearly lost his grip on the datapad when a hologram of Allana appeared before him. Her eyes rose toward his, and he almost asked her what was going on, before remembering that this wasn’t a live transmission, but a recorded message she’d sent hours ago. His heart was suddenly in his throat as he took in her serious expression, and he knew then that, no matter what she had to say, there was no world in which he was prepared to hear it.

Anakin navigated the cool white corridors of the cruiser with a renewed sense of purpose, having thankfully been cleared for combat by the Rebel medics. He and Tahiri had fallen into a silence that he would almost describe as amicable as she led him back toward the crew’s quarters.

“This is Ben,” she said, stopping in front of one in a long line of identical white doors. “Get some rest. We’ll be shipping out soon.”

Anakin offered a small smile and nodded in return. “You too.”

Tahiri sighed, and her eyes held the faintest trace of amusement. “I probably should,” she said with a laugh. “I feel like I haven’t slept in days.”

Anakin grinned just a little. “I know the feeling.”

The Jedi Master studied him for a moment, her expression still guarded, but warmer now, like it had been on Zihrent. “You’ll be all right,” she said.

They were the same words she’d spoken at Haven, just before the healer’s assistant had led him away. When he’d been so broken he could barely function, and her words had rung hollow in his ears. “Yeah,” he said, feeling a surge of strength as he raised a hand to the door’s keypad. “I think I will be.”

Tahiri’s only response was a small nod, and then she turned away and walked back the way they’d come. Anakin watched her for a few seconds before keying open the door.

Even though Ben’s presence was hidden in the Force, Anakin could tell something was wrong the moment he walked into the room. His grandson was sitting on the edge of his bunk, one hand covering his mouth as he leaned forward over his knees. He didn’t look up, not even a little.

“Hey,” Anakin said, watching him closely for a reaction. “Everything okay?”

Behind his hand, Ben took a long breath. “Yeah,” he mumbled, rising from the bunk as he stared down at the floor. He looked like a man operating in extreme gravity, sluggish and heavy, focused so much on the effort of staying upright that all else was beyond his notice. “I’m going for a walk,” he said, only half turning to look at Anakin as he moved toward the door.

“Ben,” Anakin tried again, stepping into his path. “What is it?”

Ben shook his head. “It’s nothing. I just need to get out of here. Too small.” And with that, he sidestepped Anakin and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Anakin stared at the door for a few seconds, an unshakeable sense of dread crowding around his heart. Ben had been a bit dispirited ever since they left Zonama Sekot, but this was… this was something else. He was considering whether or not to give chase when he noticed the datapad lying on Ben’s bunk. It wasn’t like him to leave something personal lying around; he was usually more meticulous than that. Was this the cause of his sudden mood shift?

He knew he shouldn’t look at it, that whatever it contained, it belonged to Ben and Ben alone. But he had never been very good at following rules.

He snatched the datapad off the bed and saw that there was a message from an unknown sender, one that had been received hours ago but only recently played. Anakin activated the message, his eyes widening as Allana’s miniaturized form appeared before him. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, and there was a slightly sad but knowing smile on her face as she began to speak.

“Hello, Ben. By the time you receive this message, I will no longer be on Zonama Sekot. I discovered something after you left, something you might not even believe.” Her lips pressed in a thin line for a moment before she continued. “My father is alive. He’s… he’s Krayt. Darth Krayt is my father. I know it sounds completely crazy, but I promise it’s true. And he’s on Coruscant right now, not at Bakura like you all thought.”

Here she took a deep breath, and Anakin breathed with her.

“I’ve made a decision, Ben. I’m going to Coruscant to face him. I know there’s still good in him. There has to be, and if I can help him see… then maybe all of this will finally end.”

Allana smiled again, briefly, before sobering once more.

“I know it probably sounds hopeless, but I have enough hope for the both of us. For nearly as long as I can remember, you’ve been looking out for me and trying to protect me, and I want you to know how grateful I am for that, and for you. But you don’t have to protect me anymore. I’m a Jedi Knight, and this is my destiny.”

Allana reached out with one hand, and the recording ended.

He didn’t know how long he stood there staring at the datapad’s empty screen; his next awareness was of running through the starship’s corridors searching for any sign of Ben, or for anyone who could point him in the right direction.

He stumbled upon him almost by accident when he found himself deep in the belly of the ship, close to its hangar bays. Anakin passed a few of those bays before coming to the one that held the Daybreak.

Of course, he told himself, irritated that he hadn’t thought to come here sooner.

He entered the otherwise empty hangar bay and found Ben standing alone near the energy shield, staring out into open space.

“Were you even going to tell me about this?” Anakin said, holding up the datapad.

Ben turned around, eyeing the device with a look somewhere between bitterness and exhaustion. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet,” he said, not quite making eye contact.

“Hadn’t thought—?” Anakin cut himself off and pressed his lips together as he tried to rein in his temper. “We have to go after her.”

Ben did make eye contact then, and under those layers of fatigue and strain, Anakin saw something new, something truly distressing.

Despair.

His grandson’s face twisted in a grimace. “And do what, Anakin? Storm the fortress, like we did on Vjun? Because that ended up working out so well, didn’t it?”

Anakin took a step toward him. “Ben, we can do this. You and me, together—”

“Haven,” Ben said, cutting him off. “Zihrent. Bakura. Tahiri and the others warned me about going to Vjun, but I didn’t listen. Because I’m a Skywalker, and that’s what we do, isn’t it? We don’t care about the rules or the reasons or what’s best for everyone; no, we follow our feelings and say that it’s the Force, as if that makes it all okay. I did what I felt was right, and now within a week we’ve lost nearly everything we had; and half of the kids we rescued have been recaptured and might be dead for all we know. And Allana—” Ben reached up to his chest and gripped his shirt between his fingers as his voice began to break. “She has no idea what she’s walking into, and I didn’t listen… I didn’t listen to Tahiri or Myri or anyone because I was too busy pretending I could be my dad instead of being there when she needed me—”

“She needs you now, Ben. Come with me.”

Ben laughed, then – an ugly, mirthless laugh that sounded almost as much a sob to Anakin's ears. “You’re talking about the capital of the whole damn Empire,” he said. “They built their fortress on the ruins of the old Jedi Temple. He’ll be surrounded by his minions; we wouldn’t even get close to him.”

Anakin fought the tremor in his hands and the desperate heat rising in him, that inner voice that screamed at him to take action. “You can’t let her go alone.”

“This wasn’t my choice,” Ben said, flinging his hand toward the energy shield and the stars beyond. “She knows she’s not strong enough to take on any Sith Lord, let alone the Master of them all.”

“That was before she knew he was her father!”

Silence fell between them, and Anakin realized his hands were outstretched, pleading, begging. Ben looked down at those hands, then turned away to stare out at the star-studded black of space.

“She’s going to get killed. Are you willing to stand by and let that happen?”

Ben whirled on him, brow creased by an intense fury. “I’m not just standing by. Did you forget what we’re here to do? I have a duty to protect the Jedi Order. This is where I’m supposed to be.”

“What about your duty to protect your family?”

“I am protecting my family. Stopping the Sith at Bakura and staying far away from Jacen – that’s how I keep Davin and Dolan and everyone safe. My mom died trying to save a group of younglings on Yalena. She gave her life for the future of this Order, and if I put any of its children in jeopardy, then she died for nothing.”

“If we don’t do something, Allana will die for nothing.”

Ben’s face contorted as he turned quickly away. He crossed his arms in front of him, unable to disguise the fact that he was shaking.

“I know you don’t want to do this,” Anakin said as earnestly as he could, right hand still outstretched. “I know you want to save her. Come with me.”

Ben bowed his head and shook it. “I can’t,” he gritted out.

“Why not?”

When Ben finally turned back to face him, his eyes were clouded and fearful. “I can’t face him,” he said, jaw clenched tight. “I don’t trust myself to face him, do you understand?”

That fear in Ben’s eyes… Anakin knew it intimately; he carried it with him at all times. Fear of the dark side, of himself and what he was capable of. Fear of loss, of not being able to protect the ones he loved. He stared into those eyes and saw such a clear reflection of himself in them that he was desperate to look away. Instead, he steeled himself against Ben’s haunted stare and reached a hand out to touch his grandson’s shoulder.

“You’re not him. You’re not me. You’re stronger than us, I know it. I’ve seen it. Help me save her.”

Ben shook himself free from Anakin’s grip. “You don’t know me. I don’t believe what Allana believes, that there’s still good in him. And even if there is, I don’t care.” A sudden and cold fury lit across his face. “I want him to suffer like they did and then die alone and broken. I want the last thing he sees in this world to be me, spitting on his face, right before I stab him through the heart.” Ben’s voice faltered, and the muscles in his jaw and neck flexed as he fought to regain control. “He killed my dad. He took everything from me. I want to return the favor, and I know I shouldn’t. I know what the Jedi way is, and what I want… that’s not it. So don’t ask me to face him, because even if I make it out of there, it won’t be me anymore. And then no one will be safe.”

“Ben, you there?”

Valin Horn’s voice broke in between them, cracking the mounting tension. Ben blew out a forceful breath as he retrieved his comlink with shaking fingers. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Syal wants you on the bridge.”

Ben stared back at Anakin and inhaled deep. “On my way.” He slipped the comlink onto his belt and started to step away from the energy shield. Anakin reached out to catch his arm, but his grandson shrugged him off. “Don’t,” the other man warned, pace quickening as he hurried out of the hangar bay.

Anakin watched him go, realizing that the datapad was still clutched tight in one hand. He looked down at it, the need to act vibrating through his entire body. He held the device up and replayed the end of the message, watching Allana’s face closely as she gazed up at him.

“I’m a Jedi Knight, and this is my destiny.”

The hologram faded, and Anakin stared at the place where it had been. Finally, he flung the device onto a nearby storage container, pacing back and forth as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He was the wrong person to do this, Chosen One or not. He couldn’t be trusted to stay calm or detached; this was his granddaughter, his connection to the daughter he would never know, to the wife he still loved more than anything. He’d been willing to sacrifice the Jedi Order for Padmé. What would he do to save Allana?

Would he call on the dark side, if it came to that? Would he embrace the power that lay coiled just beyond his reach, the power he had sampled for so long? He knew he could. It would be all too easy.

For three years the citizens of the Republic had called him the Hero With No Fear, and he had done everything in his power to prove them right. But he hadn’t been able to rid himself of his fear then, and he couldn’t do it now.

Anakin glanced over at a pair of X-wing fighters parked near the Daybreak, absently reaching for his borrowed lightsaber as he did so. His fingers brushed against the metal casing, and a memory came to him unbidden.

“Even if it might feel like losing someone precious to you is too much to bear, you have to realize that you can survive it, and you can keep moving forward.”

Maybe Allana was right; and if she was, did that mean saving her was wrong? Was he supposed to let her go? Wasn’t that what Yoda had been trying to tell him that day not so long ago – and yet somehow it seemed a lifetime had passed since then – as they sat in meditation, caught between shadows and light? Wasn’t that what Obi-Wan had tried to teach him as they observed a shattered star? Life is impermanent. To hold onto something past its time is selfish. Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.

All things die, Anakin Skywalker.

No, he told the insidious, whispering voice in his head. Just because everyone dies, that doesn’t mean it’s her time now. That doesn’t mean I have to let her go without a fight, not when I can still save her.

Sekot’s words returned to him, speaking in Jacen’s voice: “Isn’t it your calling as a Jedi Knight, to be a guardian of peace and justice? To protect those who cannot protect themselves? To be a light against the darkness?”

If he just let someone go anytime the dark side seemed too strong in him, then what kind of Jedi was he really? What kind of hero? What kind of father could he be if he wasn’t willing to face his own darkness and rise above it?

Anakin dragged both hands over his face before looking once more at the X-wings. He was talking himself in circles; the truth was, he didn’t know what the right choice was. He might never know. But he knew what choice he was going to make – what choice he would always make when it came to the people he loved.

When Ben entered the bridge, he found Syal and Valin huddled together at the curved, sweeping viewport, heads bowed over a datapad. Syal had changed into a dark blue uniform, the rank insignia on her chest indicating a much higher position in this loose alliance of rebels than Ben had realized. He stopped at a respectful distance and threw her a lax salute, forcing the encounter with Anakin out of his mind. “Commander Antilles.”

Syal looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, her mouth pressed in a hard line. “Knight Skywalker,” she returned, nodding for him to join her. “We’ve received the latest intelligence report. Looks like the Eradicator is definitely in orbit over Bakura with the rest of the fleet.”

Ben scanned the report, sensing that wasn’t the only reason Syal had called him up here. “What am I looking—” He blanched as his eyes fell on a name listed near the top of the report. Of course, he thought. “What’s Mezzon doing on Krayt’s flagship?” he said, lowering his voice. “He’s never gone anywhere near the front lines in the past.”

“We think he’s using Eradicator as a mobile fortress. More efficient.” Syal’s mouth twisted in a grimace around the word. “Immediate processing of all the Jedi and Force-sensitives they plan to capture.”

Ben almost didn’t read any further, he was so sickened at the thought; but then he saw another name he knew. “Orion Tivas? You’re sure this is right?”

“This came from Myri’s top people. If they’re sure, I’m sure.”

Ben inhaled slowly. “Then the kids who were captured with Orion at Haven—”

“Are being held on the Eradicator, yes.”

He handed the datapad back to Syal. “Who’s leading the rescue?”

She raised one eyebrow. “We thought you would.”

His response was interrupted by a terse voice behind him. “Pilot, that craft has not been cleared for departure. Identify yourself.”

Ben and the others twisted toward the viewport and watched as a single X-wing broke away from the fleet and made for open space. His stomach lurched at the familiar presence in that starfighter…

“I’m just taking it out for a spin,” Anakin said, the forced casualness in his voice not quite masking the hard determination Ben sensed underneath. “Don’t wait up for me.”

The officer at the comm clearly wasn’t amused. “Pilot, that craft has not been cleared. Identify yourself immediately.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, and Ben got the distinct impression that Anakin was smirking at them.

“This is Anakin Skywalker. Clear me or don’t clear me; it doesn’t matter. I have somewhere to be.”

Ben stood frozen in place as the entire bridge watched the stolen X-wing disappear into hyperspace. The crew grew still, waiting to see how their commander would react. Syal turned ever so slightly toward Ben.

“Did he just say Anakin Skywalker?” she asked, her irritation and disbelief evident only in the slightly clipped manner of her speech.

Ben felt every eye on the bridge staring at him, but in that moment, he was less worried about the truth of his grandfather’s identity being revealed than he was about what was going to happen when Anakin reached his destination.

“It’s a long story,” Ben said under his breath.

Syal shook her head and looked out at the stars. “Any idea where he’s going?” she said with a sigh.

Ben hesitated for a second, his stomach knotting tighter with worry; but now was not the time to hold back.

“Coruscant,” he replied. “To rescue Allana.”

Syal and Valin both turned toward him in surprise. “What?” Syal said. A few of the crew members turned suspicious eyes on Ben. He tried to ignore them.

“Allana left me a message. She found out the truth about her father and decided to confront Krayt at his fortress on Coruscant.”

Syal and Valin exchanged uncertain glances. “But Krayt is at Bakura,” Valin said.

Ben shook his head. “I’m not sure. My feelings tell me he’s on Coruscant, that this was his plan all along.”

Valin’s eyes were wide. “His plan?”

How could he explain without sounding crazy? He wasn’t even sure how Jacen could have planned it all, but there’d been too many coincidences. Secret enclaves discovered within weeks of each other, Allana learning the truth and going to confront her father on the eve of the first major battle in years.

Anakin following after her, right into the dragon’s lair.

Ben felt a pull in the Force, a call that echoed in a part of his mind he’d long since closed off. It was the place where Jacen had once been, where their bond had taken root and grown. The same place his former master had used to invade him and tear him down from the inside. Ben tried to recoil, tried to throw up every mental barrier he had; but for the first time in over a decade he found himself reaching out across time and space, seeing through his tormentor’s eyes, feeling the pure, twisted joy as the news Jacen had waited so long for arrived.

Ben gasped and pulled back. White light filled his vision for a moment, and he felt several hands on him, lifting him. As his sight began to clear he saw Syal and Valin and several others standing around him. A pair of arms looped around him from behind and began to hoist him up.

“Ben?” he heard multiple voices say. The one behind him was Elias, who must have just entered the bridge; Ben tried to look over his shoulder at his friend.

“Easy there,” Elias said. “You okay?”

Ben glanced at the concerned faces around him. “I think so,” he said.

“What happened?” Syal asked quietly “One minute you’re talking to us and the next you’re on the deck.”

Ben leaned against Elias for support as he got his feet back on the ground. The sick feeling in his stomach returned. “She’s there,” he said, breath quickening. “She’s there, and he knows it.” Why had he left her on Zonama Sekot? He was so stupid; he hadn’t learned anything. He may as well have handed her over to the Sith himself. He tried to sift through the currents of the Force, uncertain whether what he’d seen had already happened or if he’d glimpsed a rapidly approaching future. He couldn’t be sure, but the vision was so immediate, he knew there was nothing that could change it now.

“Ben, did you see something?” Valin asked, grabbing his shoulders. “Ben! What did you see?”

Ben’s mouth went dry. “Jacen is on Coruscant,” he said, “and he has Allana, or he will soon.”

“What about Bakura?” Syal said, still keeping her voice down so as not to frighten her crew. “What’s his plan?”

Ben shook his head. “I don’t know, I—” And then it was clear. So clear he wondered why he hadn’t put it together sooner. “He needed us apart,” he whispered. “He knew he couldn’t take us both together, and he knew I’d never go to him on my own, not after what he did to me.”

Valin frowned. “So he’s setting a trap for you?”

Ben stared out the viewport at the space where Anakin’s X-wing had vanished just moments ago. “No,” he said. “Not for me.”

“My Lord?”

In the pitch black of his private quarters, Darth Krayt opened both eyes, staring into the nothingness before him. “I told you not to comm until the boy arrives,” the Master of the Sith said softly.

“It’s about the boy, my lord.”

Darth Krayt rose from his bed slowly. “What about him?” he said, voice lowering to a growl.

On the other end of the comm, Sivren hesitated a moment before continuing. “Lords Ferrus and Festus boarded the ship, but the boy was not there. They found the Jedi princess instead.”

“Allana.” The name escaped his lips in a quiet gasp, the first slip of the tongue in many years. If Sivren noticed anything strange about his master’s reaction, he didn’t betray it.

“Yes, my lord. She surrendered herself to them willingly. They are bringing her here and should arrive within the hour.”

Willingly. He was filled with an emotion he hadn’t experienced in over a decade. Something akin to joy, something that resonated in his very bones. Finally, finally, she was coming back to him. He was so close now, so close to reuniting his family. Allana was coming to him, and he would show her a world beyond anything she could imagine.

Of course, they wouldn’t be alone. The Sith Master sensed something in the back of his mind, a presence he’d not felt in years. He smiled in the darkness. As mangled and broken as it was, the bond between master and apprentice was still a two-way street. Ben had shown him everything he needed to know.

“Tell Lord Festus and Lord Ferrus to bring the princess to the throne room when they arrive. And get me Lady Varice.”

“Yes, my lord, right away.”

The comm crackled for about thirty seconds before Darth Varice spoke.

“What is thy bidding, my master?”

“Contact Lord Dominius, and tell him the Rebels are moving to strike at Bakura as expected. When that is done, put our defenses on alert. We’re expecting company.”

“The Jedi, my master?”

The man once known as Jacen Solo smiled as he called his lightsabers to him. He’d been disappointed in Anakin Skywalker the first time around. Time to see if his grandfather could prove why so many had feared him.

“Just one Jedi, Lady Varice. Just one.”

Ben turned the lightsaber over in his hands, running his fingers over the scored and battered hilt. Despite all the abuse it had taken – banging against its master’s hip day after day, being dropped and thrown more times than anyone would care to count – it still endured, still shone like a beacon in the dark. He had never wielded it himself; in truth, he’d never felt worthy. Once the Sith abandoned Yalena, he returned for his mother and found it lying next to her in the rubble. Both of them cast aside, like garbage. He took her body with him, gave her a proper funeral, and put the lightsaber away.

Beside him, Artoo whistled. Ben turned the lightsaber over again and stared at the switch beneath his fingertips.

“I’m not them, Artoo. I can never be them.”

The droid’s response was a sad, muted warble. Ben stood and slid the saber back into its place in Artoo’s dome. He was about to sit back down when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

The door slid open, and standing on the other side was Tahiri.

Ben tried to breathe through the knot in his chest. “Here to say ‘I told you so’?”

Tahiri stepped into the room and rested a hand on Artoo’s dome, eyebrows furrowing. “Not at all.”

Ben sat down on the edge of his bed and folded his arms across his knees. “She thinks she can redeem him.”

“The way your dad redeemed Vader.”

Ben shook his head, staring ahead at the bulkhead. “This is exactly what Jacen wants. Anakin is walking right into a trap.”

“Maybe he already knows that.”

Ben rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Am I a coward?”

“What? Why would you ask that?”

When he finally looked up, he saw something like heartbreak in Tahiri’s eyes. He tried to look away but found that he couldn’t.

“Why can’t I face him?” Ben asked. “My dad was able to. Aunt Leia and Jaina were able to. My mom would have if she hadn’t been looking after me all those times. Even my messed-up, time-traveling grandfather is going after him. So why can’t I?”

Tahiri was silent, and he felt the weight of that silence crushing down on him. He stood abruptly and turned away from her, clasping his hands behind his head.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said after a moment.

When she spoke, Tahiri’s voice was hoarse. “Do you?”

Ben nodded and began to pace. “You warned me about excluding Allana, and now she’s as good as dead. I’m supposed to be her master, and I don’t even have the strength to save her.”

Tahiri took a small step toward him, just enough to get him to stop pacing. “What I’m thinking,” she said, “is that you have more strength than anyone I know.”

Ben’s throat felt thick, like he might choke if he tried to speak. He shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he managed to whisper.

Tahiri’s smile was unexpected. She reached out and touched his elbow. “You have been through hell and back more than once, Ben Skywalker. You have endured things most people couldn’t imagine in their worst nightmares, and you survived. You survived, and you pressed on, and you’ve become a leader and protector of the Jedi Order. Not because of some birthright, but because of your compassion and your wits and your wisdom. If all that isn’t strength, then I don’t know what is.”

Ben blinked several times, searching for the words to refute her. “Tahiri, I—”

“Ben,” she cut him off gently. “I know what Jacen did to you. I know about the Embrace.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, willing himself not to go back to that place. When he opened them again, he fought to keep his hands from shaking. “How did you know? I never told—”

“I could never forget the marks left by the Embrace of Pain. As soon as I saw them on you, I knew.”

Ben bowed his head. “I was so ashamed,” he said through gritted teeth. “I know I’m not supposed to think that way, but I couldn’t help it because deep down I knew it was my fault.”

“Nothing that happened was your fault, Ben. Jacen betrayed you.”

“I should have known better.”

“How could you have?”

“I don’t know!” He dropped onto his bunk and slumped against the wall. “I don’t know.”

Tahiri sat down beside him and took his hand in hers. “Ben, I want you to look at me and listen.”

He did as she said. Sharp green eyes stared into his, softened once again by heartbreak. He realized suddenly that her sadness wasn’t for anything she had lost – it was for him, for everything he’d suffered.

Tahiri took a deep breath. “You are not a coward. You were tortured by a man you trusted. You were traumatized, Ben, even if you never realized it. No one in their right mind would expect you to confront Jacen after what he did to you. You are not – nor have you ever been – a coward. Jacen is the coward.”

He remembered the agony of the Embrace, the burning in his blood, and before he could stop himself, he found himself giving voice to the deepest, darkest urgings of his heart. “I want to kill him,” he whispered.

Tahiri raised both eyebrows and glanced away for a second. “You’re not the only one.”

“Tahiri.”

She looked up at him, and he held her gaze, the words shaking inside of him, rattling at his rib cage, desperate to tear down the walls he’d erected around his most inner self. He was terrified of being known, of letting her see the darkness in him; but he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I want to kill him,” he said, unprepared for the yearning he heard in his own voice. “I dream about it, Tahiri.”

She reached up without warning and took his face in both her hands, as he’d seen her do with Davin and Dolan ever since they were small. As his own mother had done, long ago. And she smiled at him, a sad, knowing smile. “At the end of the day,” she said, “it’s what you do that matters most. Your choices. Your dreams don’t decide who you are, Ben. You do.”

She released him, then placed one hand over his heart. “You’re not going to make the perfect decision every time. But I trust this heart more than just about anything or anyone living. You need to trust it, too.”

He wanted to believe her; he really did. “You make it sound so easy.”

“I wish it was,” she said, lips curving in a rueful smile. “You can’t hide from the choice, Ben. You look it square in the eye, and you tell the dark side to go to hell, because you serve the light or nothing at all.”

It didn’t banish his fears, not by a long shot; but he couldn’t help laughing just a little. “Is that your Vong half talking?” he asked with a smirk.

“Yuuzhan Vong,” she corrected with an affectionate, if long-suffering, smile. “And you know perfectly well that I’m not half-anything.”

“No,” he said. “You’re definitely not.”

She pulled her hand away from him and crossed her arms in front of her. “What was it Han always used to say to us?”

“‘Never tell me the odds’?”

She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. “No, not that.”

Ben thought of Uncle Han, and for a few seconds, he felt the warmth of his arm slung across his shoulders. “‘Just one step at a time’.”

Tahiri shrugged up at him. “That’s all any of us can do.” She took a step toward the door, then turned back. “Whatever choice you make, at least give me a little warning? I think we’ve all had enough Skywalker theatrics for one day.”

He knew it was meant as a joke, but now all he could think of was Anakin and Allana and the fate that awaited them on Coruscant; that thought still clawed at his heart. “Will do,” he said quietly as he watched her open the door. “And thanks, Tahiri. Thanks for putting up with me.”

She looked back at him one last time. “Always, kiddo.” Then she was gone.

Alone once again, he sat down on the edge of his bunk and pulled out his comlink. Artoo watched him, optic sensor following his every movement. Ben sighed and stared back at the droid for a moment. Then he flipped on the comlink.

“Elias?”

There was a long pause, but his friend finally answered. “I’m here, Ben. What’s up?”

His eyes were still on the little droid. Artoo dipped his chassis forward just a fraction, in what Ben knew to be an approximation of a nod. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

“Elias, there’s something I need you to do.”

Allana spent the journey to Coruscant shackled to her seat. Her captors stayed close by, although not as close as she’d initially feared. The revelation that she was their master’s daughter seemed to have had the desired effect. Darth Ferrus sat in the seat to her left, pretending she didn’t exist, while Darth Festus had taken the seat directly across from her and looked like he was trying to bore a hole in her skull through sheer force of will. As long as he stayed away from her, he could stare all he liked.

“How much longer, Yaanis?” Ferrus sounded irritated. Allana watched him out of the corner of her eye as the Rodian pilot responded.

“About thirty minutes, my lord.”

Allana lowered her eyes. My lord. As if they weren’t just a few years older than her.

“What are you smirking at?” Festus said, his voice dangerously low.

Allana composed her face quickly. “Nothing.”

“You think you’re so much better than us, Your Royal Highness?”

She met his stare and said nothing as an old memory tugged at the edge of her thoughts. A boy kneeling before her, smiling as he handed back the stuffed toy his brother had stolen from her. She hadn’t thought of that day or that boy in a long, long time – even now it seemed more dream than reality. She could hardly believe the eyes staring back at her belonged to that same boy.

“You know I don’t think that,” she answered quietly.

He didn’t blink as he continued to watch her. “What do I know, Allana? You think you’re gonna tell me what I know? What do you know?”

She didn’t answer, and she refused to look away. Maybe it was foolish to do so; maybe he would interpret it as a challenge, but she refused to be cowed by him, no matter who he was now.

A muscle in his cheek twitched, and for a few seconds she thought he was going to lunge at her. Instead, Festus leaned lazily in his seat, adopting the seemingly careless mannerisms he’d displayed before their fight on Vjun. “I’m still having a hard time believing this new information about our Lord and Master,” he said, directing his comment toward his brother.

“A very hard time,” Ferrus said in agreement.

Festus turned his pale blue eyes back on Allana and smiled a smile that absolutely did not belong on someone so cruel. “We were led to believe your father died in his failed attempt to overthrow Lord Krayt.”

Allana quirked one eyebrow. “Then it seems you were misled.”

The smile widened, and Festus rose from his seat, crossing the gap between them to sit in the empty chair to her right. She continued to look straight ahead as he leaned in close to her ear.

“I know you’re bluffing, Princess. But I’ll play along for now, because in thirty minutes you won’t have anything or anyone else to hide behind.” He grabbed her by the chin and turned her head so that their faces were only centimeters apart. “And you’ll wish your friend had let me finish you off on Vjun.”

She tried not to flinch at the barely restrained viciousness in his voice. They were empty threats, she told herself. Empty because she knew the truth that Festus refused to accept. In thirty minutes, she’d be reunited with her father. Maybe it was that thought that gave her the boldness to challenge him.

“Perhaps, my lord. But if you are wrong and I am right, then you might regret that I stopped my friend from killing you that day.”

Something in Festus’s expression shifted for a second, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, smoothed over and hidden beneath a carefully constructed veneer. “So confident,” he said quietly as he released his grip on her chin. He examined her face for a moment, then retreated to his seat across from her. As soon as his back was turned to her, Allana opened her mouth and exhaled as slowly and inaudibly as possible.

They spent the remainder of the trip in relative silence. When the ship finally entered Coruscant space, Ferrus moved to the front of the craft and stood just behind the Rodian pilot. Allana craned her neck to see out the viewport. The city-planet was teeming with life and activity, as it had been for centuries. Even the war with the Yuuzhan Vong had not kept it down for long. Did the people here feel the unrelenting and merciless grip of their Sith overlords? Did they know what it was like to live from day-to-day, not knowing if it might be their last?

For the first time, Allana wondered if her quest might not be in vain after all. This didn’t feel like a world crushed by tyranny. And if her father didn’t see himself as a tyrant, would he feel any need to renounce the dark side?

“Shuttle Ferocity, you are clear to land in Hangar Six One Seven.”

The voice on the comm startled Allana from her thoughts, and she blinked several times as her eyes focused on the building coming into view. Its black spires seemed to swallow all light around it, bathing the entire fortress in shadow. Allana shivered, hugging her arms against her body.

“Are you afraid, little princess?”

She found the end of her braid and rubbed her fingers absently over the soft plaits. He was there; she could feel him reaching out to her. At first, she shied away from his mental touch. It felt so strange. So cold and distant. Nothing like the man she had known. But slowly, tentatively, she stretched out with her feelings and felt something familiar. A warm edge to the chill. A hand on her cheek. A promise whispered to her and to her alone.

“No,” she told Festus. “No, I’m not afraid.”

The holofeed for Hangar 617 showed three people walking down the shuttle ramp. Darth Ferrus and Darth Festus stood on either side of their prisoner, a slight, redheaded girl who surveyed the hangar bay like a queen sizing up her subjects. When they reached the end of the ramp, they were met by Lord Krayt’s personal aide.

“The Master has ordered you to take the girl to the throne room at once.” Sivren’s voice was a little staticky, but the twins’ shock was clear.

“Surely there’s no need for the Master to involve himself,” Festus said quickly, pulling the prisoner toward him. “We can extract whatever information he needs from her ourselves.”

The Lesser shook his head. “Lord Krayt was very insistent, I’m afraid.”

The twins followed behind Sivren, Festus with his hand still wrapped around their captive’s arm. He exchanged a confused glance with Ferrus, and the two boys appeared to have some kind of silent disagreement as they led the princess out of the hangar.

The Sith Master drew a steadying breath as he shut off the holofeed. He stood from his throne and gazed out at the rapidly darkening sky.

Soon, he told himself.

He didn’t have long to wait. In almost no time at all, he heard a gentle whir as the turbolift ascended and slowed to a stop. On the other side of the room, the lift doors opened.

His daughter had come home.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-One

The hangars of the Harbinger were a flurry of activity, and as Arden helped Elias carry supplies to the Daybreak, she couldn’t help looking around in awe. Rebel technicians buzzed around the starfighters, prepping them for combat, while their pilots finished pulling on flight suits, inspecting their gear, or in some cases, chatting idly in the shadows of their ships. It was difficult to judge what the overall mood was. Not fully hopeful, but nowhere near defeated.

Arden very carefully set down a case of detonators. “I didn’t know there were so many rebels out there,” she said. “The holofeeds always made it sound like the resistance was a dying, scattered group of terrorists.”

Elias looked at her over his shoulder and grinned. “Pretty impressive, huh? Syal really outdid herself, scraping this whole fleet together.”

“Commander Antilles,” Arden corrected, shaking her head. “I didn’t see that coming. She seems so normal.”

Elias raised an amused eyebrow. “Normal?”

Arden stuck her tongue out at him and rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. I never could have imagined becoming friends with a fleet commander, is all.”

“I do know what you mean,” Elias conceded. “That’s how I felt when Ben and I became friends and he started introducing me to his family and all of their friends.”

Arden smiled at him, at the hint of awe in his voice. “You’ll have to tell me all about that sometime.”

He smiled in return. “Yeah.”

A group of pilots jogged past them, and overhead a comm unit blared, telling all personnel to report to their stations. “You think we’ll make it through this?” Arden said once the comm unit fell silent.

Elias took her hand in his. “I hope so. But if we don’t—”

“I love you.”

She hadn’t meant to blurt it out so abruptly, but she had to say it now, before they were swept up in the battle, before it was too late.

Elias gathered her fully into his arms and lifted a hand to her cheek. “I love you, too,” he murmured. She tucked her head under his chin, turning so she could listen to his heartbeat, feeling the strength of his embrace. This was where she belonged. She would never doubt it again. When she finally pulled back to look up at him, he lifted her off the ground and kissed her.

She wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted. Five seconds, maybe ten. When they came up for air, Arden heard a sound behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Kohr and Ames pretending to wipe away tears.

“So beautiful,” Kohr said with an equally fake sniffle.

Ames thumped his chest with his fist. “Really gets you right in here.”

“All right, all right,” Elias said as he set her back down and attempted to wave the boys away.

Kohr was grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t stop on our account,” he said.

Arden smiled at the two young Jedi. It was good to see how well Kohr was recovering – seemed it took more than a head wound to keep him down. Ames had been by his friend’s side almost non-stop since Vjun.

“So what are your orders?” Arden asked them.

Kohr and Ames shared a mischievous look. “We’re with you on the Daybreak,” Ames said.

“Where we belong,” Kohr added.

Arden nodded and looked up at Elias. “Now we just need our fearless captain to round out the crew.”

Elias’s smiled faded a little, and he reached up to run a hand over the back of his head. “Ben’s not coming with us this time.”

“What?”

“Why not?”

The speakers boomed again, drowning out any more questions from Kohr and Ames.

“All flight crews, report.”

Elias sighed. “That’s us. Come on.”

“But who’s gonna fly this thing?” Kohr asked.

“Me and you.”

For a few seconds, Kohr stared at Elias like he’d suddenly sprouted wings. Then a wide, victorious grin spread slowly across his face. “Now that’s more like it.”

Both boys began to chatter back and forth excitedly as they picked up the case of detonators Arden had set down, and carried it up the ramp to the Daybreak, all while Elias warned them to please not blow up the ship. She was distracted by the sound of footsteps behind her, and she turned to see who it was.

One of the Jedi Knights – the council member Jysella Horn, if she was remembering right – led a group of about a dozen soldiers. She stopped next to the Daybreak and nodded at Arden before turning to Elias. “I brought some volunteers,” she said, sweeping a hand to indicate the soldiers. She offered a smile, but there was a hard set to it that reminded Arden of the dangers they’d soon be facing.

Elias surveyed the strike team. “Good. We’re going to need everyone we can get.”

Jysella nodded in agreement. “Is your crew ready?”

Elias put his hands on his hips and lowered his head to hide a small smile. “We’re still waiting on one more, actually.”

Arden looked over at the assembled crew and strike team. “Who?”

Her question was met with an eager stream of warbling beeps, followed by an indignant wail. The strike team parted down the middle, and Ben Skywalker’s faithful astromech droid rolled up between them.

“There he is,” Elias said with a grin. “Now we’re all set.”

Next to him, the hard line of Jysella’s mouth softened just a little. “The most invaluable member of any fighting force.” She reached out a hand to brush across the droid’s dome. “You ready to go, little guy?”

Artoo rocked side-to-side on his legs, chirping as rapidly as an overly excited monkey-lizard. Jysella looked up at Elias and Arden for clarification. Elias glanced over at Arden and shrugged before turning back to the older Jedi. “Pretty sure that means ‘yes’.”

As the strike team boarded the ship and got settled, Arden went to the cockpit with Elias, where Kohr was already in the pilot’s seat, running through the pre-flight check. All around them, ships’ engines started to hum to life, the pulse of their energy beating a rhythm against her senses, like that of gentle, rolling waves. She wondered, briefly, if it was anything like what Elias felt when he reached into the Force and connected with the energy of the universe. She wasn’t really sure why, but she hoped it was.

After about ten minutes, they received their clearance, and the Daybreak lifted off the hangar floor. Arden and Ames sat behind Elias and Kohr, watching the painted white durasteel of the Mon Cal cruiser give way to the deep black of space. Every ship in the fleet was turning away from Troxar, lining up to make the jump into hyperspace.

“All groups,” Syal Antilles said over the comm, “assume attack coordinates, and prepare to make the jump on my mark.”

It seemed as though everyone in the Daybreak – no, in the entire fleet – took a collective breath. Through the viewport, Arden watched the stars stretch and bend around them as they entered hyperspace.

“No turning back now,” Elias murmured. He looked back at Arden, and she reached out to take his hand in hers.

The trip to Bakura wasn’t long, and as soon as they came out of hyperspace, Arden saw why the Bakurans had been so desperate for help. The Sith fleet had completely encircled the planet; everywhere she looked, she saw their warships. The biggest ones – the massive, black Star Destroyers – were so numerous they blocked out much of the light from the planet’s surface. It was more like a swarm than a fleet. A powerful, angry swarm waiting to consume anyone who came too close.

“All wings report in,” one of the squadron leaders ordered.

The leaders of each squadron sounded off in turn. When it came time for Blue Squadron – their squadron – a familiar voice answered. “Blue Leader,” Myri Antilles said, in as serious a tone as Arden had ever heard her use, “standing by.” If the sight of the Sith fleet didn’t bring home the enormity of what they were facing, hearing the gravity in Myri’s voice would.

Elias looked over his shoulder at her. “Ready?”

Arden stood and glanced over at Ames. Then she leaned forward to place a kiss on Elias’s cheek. “Don’t fly too crazy,” she said.

Kohr turned in his seat and grinned up at her. “No promises.”

Ames punched his friend in the shoulder, and then Arden followed him from the cockpit as they made their way to the ship’s laser cannons. Arden climbed up to take the dorsal cannon, while Ames slid down the ladder to the ventral guns.

“This is it,” Arden murmured, flexing her fingers against the turret controls as her targeting computer came online.

“Squadron leaders,” their commander said with cool, fighter pilot determination, “you are clear to engage.” There was a momentary pause where the line stayed open. Arden thought she heard an intake of breath.

“May the Force be with us.”

“My lord, Rebel ships have entered our sector.”

Darth Dominius turned his head just enough to acknowledge Captain Bateer with a nod. “Ready your fighters. Every last ship is to be deployed.”

The Zeltron captain bowed at the waist. “As you wish, my lord.”

When he had gone, Dominius looked over at the two Sith Lords who had joined him on the bridge. Lord Satrus he knew from their shared youth on Korriban. He was human and didn’t speak much – by choice, not for lack of intelligence or opinion – and he handled a lightsaber better than just about anyone living. If the path of the Sith had allowed for friendship, then Satrus might have been the closest thing Dominius had to a friend. As it was, he considered the man to be a formidable ally.

His companion was a tall, crimson-skinned, Lethan Twi’lek woman named Darth Incendi. Dominius hadn’t seen her in many years; she had spent most of the last decade on the front lines of the war, embroiled in the Inner Rim sieges. He didn’t know her well, but he’d heard she was utterly vicious in combat. When he looked into her eyes, he saw a fire burning there that could never be quenched. He could certainly appreciate being sent such a ruthless and single-minded ally to aid him in the Jedi Hunt.

Dominius smiled. “My friends, it is time for us to end the plague of the Jedi once and for all.”

Lady Incendi let out a deep, delighted growl. “What would you have us do, Lord Dominius?”

“There is a group of Jedi on the planet below that needs eradicating. We will use them to draw in the other Jedi, then we will wipe them all out.”

“Sounds like fun,” Lord Satrus said in a tone that might have been gentle but for the malice underneath.

“Excellent.” Dominius gestured toward the walkway that spanned the length of the bridge. “Shall we?”

His new companions followed him as he led them from the bridge to one of the troop transport hangars. Once there, they were met by a commander in full black body armor and three new Lords fresh from Korriban. The commander snapped a quick salute.

“The walkers and troops are loaded and await your command, my lord.”

“Very good, Commander.” Dominius craned his neck to inspect the heavily modified AT-AT towering directly over them. Then he looked over his shoulder at Satrus and Incendi. “My friends, I believe this is our ride.”

The first wave of Rebel starships crashed against a wall of Sith fighters. There had to be at least five enemy ships for every Rebel pilot. Tahiri might not have minded those odds if there wasn’t so much at stake.

The Happy Ho’Din shuddered as a laser blast glanced off its shields. Ulin made a quick course correction and winced as several warning lights began to flash. “Easy there, sweetheart,” he said under his breath.

Tahiri shook her head and braced herself against the control panel. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. There were still a lot of enemy ships between them and Bakura, and Ulin wasn’t exactly known for his piloting skills.

As if sensing her thoughts, Ulin looked at her sidelong and grinned. “Don’t count me out yet, Master Jedi.”

Tahiri laughed as another laser narrowly missed them. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But let’s see if I can’t clear the way a little.” She closed her eyes, and the sounds around her began to fade. The creaking of the ship, the hum of the shield generator straining to keep up, Ulin’s one-sided conversation with the Ho’Din… it all dulled until the only thing she heard was white noise, soft and unobtrusive. Then she raised her right hand toward the viewport and concentrated on the space in front of the ship.

In her mind’s eye she saw the incoming laser blasts bend to avoid the Ho’Din. She twisted her wrist, splaying her fingers as she did so. In response, the Sith fighters that attempted to cut across their path were sent spiraling out of control. She sensed Ulin’s surprise, but he continued to fly toward Bakura.

The enemy was really starting to notice them now. Instead of a fighter here and there, Tahiri sensed them coming in groups of three and in quick succession. She gritted her teeth, trying to hold the barrier she’d created with the Force. Another trio of fighters was circling around them to catch them from behind. She twisted her body to the side and raised her left hand toward the rear of Ulin’s ship. She wouldn’t be able to hold this much longer. They had to get through.

Luminous beings, she reminded herself.

She allowed her awareness to expand, encompassing not just the space around the Ho’Din, but the space all around Bakura. Warships and corvettes and fighters filled with allies and enemies alike, and though her sense of them was as different as day and night, they all shone in the Force. She wondered, briefly, if that was part of some greater truth; she knew, in fact, that it was. She’d known a man once who put his heart and soul into that truth, who believed all was one in the Force, that all life was connected and had worth simply by virtue of its existence. That belief had helped end a war and broker peace.

Look what’s become of us, Jacen, she whispered into the vastness of the Force, as life was snuffed out around her in flames, in silence. Is this really what you wanted?

She shook her head, knowing he would never hear her, and that even if he did, he wouldn’t answer. Beside her, she felt the tension in Ulin’s body as he leaned forward over the controls, narrowly dodging another laser blast.

The starfighters behind them exploded, and Tahiri opened her eyes in time to see the familiar black hull of the Daybreak shooting past them on their left. She dropped her hands and opened the comm channel. “Nice of you to drop by, Blue Five.”

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun, Blue Two,” Elias shot back.

Tahiri exchanged a quick look with Ulin. “You remember your orders, Elias?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before Elias responded. When he did, the mock bravado was gone. “Yes, Master.”

Tahiri stared ahead at the planet looming ever larger in the viewport. “We’ll be fine without you. Your mission is just as important.” She’d grappled with this decision – who to send, whether to go with them. But she was needed down there, on the planet’s surface, so she had to trust that Elias and his crew would be enough.

“You can do this, kiddo,” she said, reaching into the still place that had once bonded them, that still bonded them. “The Force will be with you.”

“Always, Master.” His ship’s engines flared as the Daybreak peeled away, turning against the tide of the battle.

“He’ll be okay,” Ulin said without looking at her. “He’s strong. Gets that from his teacher.”

Tahiri put a hand on the slicer’s shoulder. “You’re not getting all sentimental on me, are you, old man?”

He reached up and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Never,” he replied, holding on for a few seconds before letting go. Maybe she would have to treat him to dinner sometime, if they made it out of this alive.

Now who’s getting sentimental? she chided herself.

Ulin angled the Ho’Din toward the planet’s surface and entered its atmosphere with more turbulence than Tahiri would have liked. There was no time to worry about it, though. In a few minutes they would be on the ground, trying to lead a rescue mission in the middle of a battle. To say nothing of the Sith Lords who would no doubt be hunting for the Jedi enclave at the same time.

There were so many ways for this plan to go horribly wrong. She tried to push the thought of them from her mind.

“Blue Group, this is Blue Leader. Make for the rendezvous point.”

The other members of her squadron – a ragtag bunch of ships if ever there was one – began to converge on the rendezvous point. It was a less-trafficked spaceport on the southern side of Salis D’aar, Bakura’s capital city. Not the safest option but certainly more practical if they were going to find their friends before the Sith did.

Ulin landed the Ho’Din outside one of the docking bays. Tahiri patted the lightsaber at her hip and looked over at the slicer.

“Ready for this?” she asked.

He flashed a wry smile as he held up his datapad and his bag of tech. “You bet.”

They exited the ship, and Tahiri saw the other members of Blue Squadron doing the same. Valin and Myri jogged toward her, leading a squad of Rebel soldiers and a few older Jedi apprentices.

“Is this everyone?” Tahiri asked.

“Looks like it,” Myri said, adjusting her cap so that it was just slightly askew. She pulled her blaster out and held it up to her shoulder. “Now let’s go liberate some Jedi.”

The younger members of the group cheered, but Tahiri was distracted by the roar of ships’ engines. She looked up as a trio of X-wings made a pass overhead. The apprentices and soldiers cheered again, waving at the fighters as they chased down a pair of enemy scout ships. In the distance, she saw one of the Sith’s largest landing craft setting down, and she sensed a well of darkness within, eager and focused. Tahiri pressed her lips in a thin line and laid her hand across the hilt of her lightsaber. For better or for worse, they were coming to the end of their struggle.

From the time she left Zonama Sekot until the moment she stepped into the turbolift, Allana had run through at least a dozen possible scenarios, trying to imagine what it would be like to see her father again. To say that she was surprised when the lift door opened on a room that looked like it belonged on Zonama Sekot or one of the old Yuuzhan Vong worldships, rather than in a modern Sith Temple, would have been an understatement.

The air here was oppressively humid, a product of the vegetation that covered nearly every surface of the room. A carpet of soft grass stretched before her, climbing what looked to have been a set of stairs; it terminated in a mass of yorik coral that had been shaped to resemble a throne. There was no gentle Zonaman breeze to provide relief, and already she felt her clothes sticking to her skin. It was particularly noticeable where Festus held onto her.

If she was startled by the strange, dimly-lit throne room, then the Sith Lords on either side of her were completely stunned. Festus in particular seemed to have an almost visceral reaction to the room, or maybe to his dear master, who she realized was standing at the massive window just beyond the throne, completely devoid of the vonduun crab armor he was famous for as he gazed out at the twilit cityscape. Festus tightened his hand around her arm in a motion that seemed more reflexive than deliberate, and she found herself wondering what exactly had set him on edge.

Darth Krayt turned away from the dusk-colored expanse of sky, and Jacen Solo’s eyes landed on her. There was nothing in his face that revealed any kind of happiness or satisfaction, but through the Force she felt him crackle with anticipation. The warmth she sensed earlier was still there, and even with Festus holding onto her and Ferrus towering over her, she breathed easier.

“Well done, my apprentices,” her father said, his voice still a bit deeper than she remembered. “Leave us. Lady Varice has your next assignment.”

Ferrus bowed his head and began to turn away, but Festus didn’t move. Allana’s momentary sense of relief began to evaporate.

Her father’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Is there something wrong, Lord Festus?”

The hand that held her released suddenly, and Festus took a quick step backward. “No, my lord.”

The Sith Master strode over to the top of the staircase, face impassive as he stared down at them. “You are startled by my appearance.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, my lord.” For once, Festus sounded every bit the eighteen-year-old boy that he was. Allana found the fear in his voice a lot less satisfying than she would have thought.

Her father shook his head, and she was struck by how much he reminded her of Ben in that moment, dealing with a difficult teenager. “Don’t lie to me, Festus. You know I can always tell.”

She risked a glance back at Festus, who had bowed his head. “Yes, my master.”

“Kneel.”

He obeyed quickly, and as he did, Allana saw his eyes dart over to the perimeter of the room. That was when she noticed a grotesque organism suspended from the ceiling, its many branchlike appendages spread wide as if awaiting an embrace.

Her father descended the stairs, stopping three steps from the bottom. “I had thought you would be pleased to see me again, after all these years; but I sense your unease, my young apprentice. Are you upset that I’m not who you thought I was?” He raised a hand toward Festus. “Shall I sort through your mind and find out?”

Allana stood frozen in place, watching the scene unfold. Even though she knew that she wasn’t in imminent danger, she felt distinctly that Festus was on the knife’s edge of oblivion. His eyes rose to meet her father’s, and in them she saw dread and – to her surprise – shame. Then the air around her went cold and still, and her father slowly lowered his outstretched hand.

“Festus,” he said, his voice so quiet. “Tell me you didn’t.”

The young Sith Lord started to shake his head. “Master—”

“I could have forgiven you anything else. You know that, don’t you? Anything else.”

Festus’s response was a whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“Yes, you did.” Her father’s presence seemed to expand around them, a frigid wave of power, a glacier melting from within as old rage began to burn. “Just because you thought I was dead, that didn’t make her any less my daughter. I thought you were loyal to me?”

“I am.”

“You remember what I saved you from, Festus. Before I ever wore Krayt’s armor, I spared you, and this is how you repay me? By attempting to kill my child?”

Allana thought of what she’d said to Festus on the shuttle, that he might regret not dying on Vjun. She’d only said it to get him to leave her alone. She hadn’t considered that her father might actually kill him.

Roan’s words returned to her, small and scared: “He hurts everyone else.”

Festus looked up, and Allana saw tears gathering in his eyes. “I’m your servant,” he said, soft and trembling. “I didn’t— I would never betray you. You gave me life – you gave me purpose.”

Her father’s face was impassive as he studied his kneeling apprentice. “Yes, and you have fulfilled that purpose, by returning my daughter to me. As I knew you would.”

She could see Festus was still struggling to grasp the meaning of those words when his brother stepped forward. “My lord,” Ferrus said quickly, looking uncertain whether he should kneel as well, “we live only to serve you.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she was almost glad to see Ferrus defend his twin. Her thoughts flitted briefly to Davin and Dolan, safe on Zonama Sekot. What would her father do if he knew where to find them, the only children of his own twin? She went cold thinking of it.

“Ah, Lord Ferrus.” Her father took another step down, head turning slightly to acknowledge the taller boy. “Finally showing some initiative. Even if it is too little too late. Now, step back, or share your brother’s fate.”

Ferrus didn’t move for a moment, until Allana noticed Festus lower his eyes and give a barely perceptible head shake. Then Ferrus stepped backward, head bowed and fists clenched tight at his sides. Allana could feel him burning hot in the Force, so hot it was searing. Between that and the humidity and her inability to sense most of the organic life around her, and then the fear that assaulted her senses in its place… she felt herself trapped in the most surreal of nightmares, casting about for anything that might snap them all out of it.

Her father lifted his hand toward Festus once more, and she could feel the power he summoned to him, the crushing weight of it channeling through his fingertips as he took hold of his apprentice. “I am sorry, my little shadowmoth,” he said softly, a bit sadly. “You became what I needed you to be. I wish it could have been otherwise. I suppose it’s only right that I should be the one to end your suffering.”

Allana’s heart raced as she watched her father’s outstretched hand. She hadn’t been there to prevent his fall to the dark side – that was why she’d reached for Anakin on Vjun, pleading with him to spare a Sith Lord’s life. She hadn’t been able to sit by and watch him make the same mistakes, not when she could do something about it.

Now there was no fall to prevent, no scales to tip one way or the other. Her father had already descended so deep into the pit, one more murder would scarcely mean a thing. It certainly wouldn’t save his soul if she stopped him from carrying it out.

She could say nothing. In reality, it probably didn’t make a difference what she did. If her father wanted to kill someone, he would do it regardless of her interference.

A Jedi – her grandmother had told her once, long ago – uses the Force for knowledge and defense.

Defense. Not just defense of the Order and its allies, or the people she loved, or the ones deemed worthy, but of all life.

She looked down at Festus, then, still kneeling on the coral-crusted ground, and she no longer saw the twisted Sith Lord who hated her very existence. Instead, she saw a boy not much older than she was, a boy who’d been stolen away and robbed of whatever future he might have had, and was it really right for him to die now just for doing exactly what he’d been trained to do? What he’d been raised to do? She didn’t think she could forgive Festus for trying to kill her, but she also wasn’t ready to watch her father murder him.

She stepped between Festus and her father, and then she said a word she hadn’t spoken aloud in many years – the only word she could think of that might stop Jacen Solo dead in his tracks:

“Daddy.”

Her father’s brown eyes went wide, and his hand lowered a fraction. Allana took a deep breath.

“You got what you wanted,” she said gently. “I’m here. Let him go.”

The whole room was so quiet, she could have sworn she heard every breath between them. Even the background noises – the temple’s air filtration systems, the speeder traffic outside, the wet, gasping, hissing sounds of whatever Yuuzhan Vong organisms her father had hidden in the shadows – seemed to silence.

“He would have killed you,” her father murmured, breaking that silence.

Her next breath felt impossibly heavy. “I know.”

“Do you know? Do you understand what you’d be allowing to live?”

“Yes,” she said, “and I’m still asking you to spare him.”

The Master of the Sith lowered his hand, eyes cold as he glared down at Festus. “Leave us,” he growled.

Allana risked a glance over her shoulder and saw Festus staring not at her father, but at her, eyes narrowed in fury and confusion and something else she couldn’t quite place. His brother grabbed him under one shoulder and yanked him to his feet, muttering indecipherably under his breath as he pulled Festus toward the turbolift.

His eyes never left hers, and there was an intensity in that stare that made her wonder, briefly, if she hadn’t just made a huge mistake. She decided it didn’t matter now. She’d made her choice, and she knew in her heart it was the right one.

When the turbolift doors closed and she was finally alone with her father, Allana turned to face him. What she wasn’t prepared for, though, was the smirk on his lips.

“There’s no one else who could stand in my way like that,” he said quietly, with a hint of amusement. But Allana wasn’t ready to play either of their actions off as some kind of joke.

“I guess there had to be some benefit to being your daughter,” she replied, not quite managing the hard edge she was trying for.

Her father let out a small laugh, and the sound of it made her wonder how long it had been since he’d uttered such a noise. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this day,” he said with a sigh.

She shook her head, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor, and maybe a little thrown by the fact that he was standing right in front of her, almost close enough to touch. “I thought you were dead,” she whispered.

He tilted his head to the side, sobering just a little. “I know.”

“This whole time… you’ve been alive this whole time, and you never…” She didn’t want to finish that thought; it felt wrong to even think it, to admit that even up until his supposed death, she’d wanted him to come back for her.

He crossed the divide between them and took her face in his hands, the expression on his own shifting back and forth between exhaustion and delirious joy. “You have been in my thoughts every day for the last fifteen years.” She caught fragments of thought tumbling out of him – my child, my baby, my daughter, my light – but she didn’t know if they’d broken past his carefully constructed walls or if he was feeding them to her purpose.

His hands were warm against her cheeks; she wasn’t sure why she’d thought they would be otherwise. She considered pulling away. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? Another chance to be in his arms, to love him and be loved by him, to be a family?

“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you,” he said, his thumbs brushing gently across her cheeks.

She realized then that her face was damp with tears, that something was cracked and aching inside of her, that whatever she’d expected to find here, it wasn’t this. She was supposed to fight for him, win him over to her side with the strength of her love and her belief, thaw the frozen reaches of his heart by reminding him of who he used to be. It seemed like utter nonsense now – a child’s fantasy she should have been too hardened to hold onto, but she did anyway. He hadn’t forgotten anything; she could see that now. He loved her just as much as he always had, maybe more. And still. In spite of that love – because of that love – he had done all of this.

He wasn’t tricked, nor had he stumbled blindly into the darkness.

He chose it.

She shook her head, staring straight into his eyes as he held onto her. “How can you think I would want to hear that?” Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as the words tumbled out. “Why would you tell me… am I supposed to be grateful? Am I supposed to be okay with what you’ve done?”

His grip on her tightened – not to hurt, but to hold her closer. “No,” he said gently, a sad smile on his lips. “If you were, you wouldn’t be my daughter. My Allana.”

There was a part of her that still wanted to fling her arms around him and feel the strength and safety she’d yearned for all her life. The other part told her to pull away, and she did. He didn’t try to stop her.

Free of his grasp, Allana took two steps back. “What do you expect me to say?”

He held his hands out at his sides and exhaled slowly. “Whatever you want to say.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is. It’s just not the one you want to hear.”

“I don’t know what I want to hear. I don’t even know what I want to say!”

“Do you want to hear that I’m sorry? That I wish I could take it all back? That I love you more than my own life?” He advanced toward her, hands outstretched. “Even if I say all those things, even if I mean them, even if you believe me… does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.”

“Does it? Does it change anything that’s happened?” He swept one hand toward the massive window, as if to encompass all of Coruscant, or maybe even the whole galaxy. “Does it change our reality?”

His words closed in around her, a trap waiting to be sprung. “It changes my reality,” she said, small and pathetic.

“You mean it makes you feel better. It makes me more palatable as a father if I’m conflicted. But that doesn’t have anything to do with my actions. The universe doesn’t care if I have regrets.” He stepped within arm’s reach and brought a hand up to her chin, holding it gently. “You thought you could redeem me. You have no idea how much I love you for that. But your efforts are in vain. There was never any outcome other than this.”

Tears continued to prick at her eyes. “I can’t accept that.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you can accept it. I am sorry, and I do wish all this suffering could have been avoided. But I love you, more than my own life. More than any life. So I made a choice.”

“You’re saying this is my fault?”

“No, Allana, the fault is mine. Mine alone.” He brushed a few loose hairs from her forehead. “You are perfect. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who wasn’t strong enough.”

Allana shut her eyes to block out the tenderness in his gaze. “I should never have been born.”

Pain and anger stabbed through the Force. Once again, he cradled her face with both hands, his fingers hard as durasteel. “Never say that. Not ever.”

“You ended up replacing me though, didn’t you?” She was casting about now for something, anything, to hurt him with, to wound him as he had wounded her. It didn’t matter that she didn’t mean it, that she would never give Roan back for the world.

Her father gave her a disturbingly paternal look. “Allana. You know that’s not what happened. And while I admire your attempt at manipulation, it’s really not your strength.”

She bristled at that and pulled away again. “How would you even know?”

“Because we are connected in a way that defies time or distance.” He reached out with one hand, gesturing back and forth between them. “Our bond is written in the fabric of the Force and in the blood we share. I know you because you’re mine, as you’ve always been, and always will be.”

Allana shook her head. “You say you love me so much, but what about my mother? Was she so easily forgotten?”

“No,” he said after a moment that seemed to stretch on and on. “No, It wasn’t easy in the slightest. I loved your mother. I still love her, even though she betrayed me. Even though she kept you from me. Roan’s mother was the least depraved of Krayt’s followers and the closest thing I had to a friend on Korriban. We used each other to survive, for a time. But love her, like I loved Tenel Ka? Never.”

“Do you love Roan?”

For the first time, she saw what looked like genuine hurt in his expression. “Yes.”

“Then why would you allow him to grow up surrounded by evil? He’s terrified to come back. He hates it here. How can you justify that?”

“It’s not the life I would have chosen for him, I’ll admit. But I have shielded him from the worst of this world. He may hate it, but he has stayed good when he could have turned out so much worse. You need only look at Lord Festus to see the difference.”

She shook her head again, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Stop it. He’s not lord of anything. Your Sith abducted him and twisted him—”

“They weren’t mine—”

“You’re saying you’re not responsible for how he turned out?”

Her father went very still, and his face was suddenly a dark mirror, reflecting nothing, revealing nothing. “I never said that.”

He turned away from her for a moment, and she watched his shoulders rise and fall as he took a slow, deep breath. Then he turned to face her once more, his expression still neutral. “I’m very much to blame. I could have taken Festus and Ferrus and all of those other children far away from there, but I didn’t. I chose to stay.”

“Why?” she found herself asking.

Her father shrugged. “Many reasons, I suppose. Because I’d lost everything, and I had nowhere better to go. Because I was curious about the mysterious allies who’d betrayed me.” He paused for a moment. “Because in the wake of my defeat, I had a vision of a pair of twins – disciples of the Sith – who would lead me back to you.”

She tried to speak, then, but nothing came out. Her father continued.

“When I finally came across them and realized they’d been Jedi children, I thought they’d know a location where I could find you, but they didn’t. At first, I was frustrated; but I learned a long time ago that visions don’t always happen the way you think they will, and I knew I had to be patient. So I kept them alive, and I kept them close.”

Allana realized she had her hands clamped over her mouth. She lowered them slowly. “Great,” she whispered, hardly able to speak past the lump in her throat. “One more sin I’m responsible for.” She reached up to scrub away the tears that had started to fill her eyes. “You’re never turning back, are you?”

“No,” he said simply, “I’m not.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and raised her chin, calling upon every ounce of strength she possessed, even though she knew how ridiculous her request would sound. “I want to go home,” she said quietly.

The air grew still around him. “That’s not possible.”

Allana opened her eyes, staring up at him as he stepped closer to her. “I can’t stay here. Not after everything—”

“You misunderstand,” her father interrupted. “You’re not leaving this chamber.”

And over his shoulder, she saw something move – the organism she’d glimpsed earlier, suspended from the ceiling, the one she’d caught Festus looking at as he kneeled. Its appendages flexed, opening wider; and suddenly she knew exactly what it was, and every instinct screamed at her to run.

Her father moved before she could react, wrapping his hands around her arms and pulling her toward him in one swift, powerful motion. He faced the organism and began to carry her in that direction.

“Daddy, no—”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding her flush against him as he dragged her toward the organism. “I can’t let you go again.”

“No, please, don’t put me in there—” She struggled uselessly against his durasteel grip, panic beating furiously in her chest. “—Daddy, please—”

He forced her away from him, pressing her back up against the living rack; and the Embrace of Pain began to wind its branch-grips around her legs, her arms, her waist, her neck…

He held her face in his hands, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. “This is the only way,” he murmured, thumbs brushing across her cheeks to catch her own tears. “I need you to be safe. I need you to understand why I did this.”

Allana felt a great sob sticking in her throat, eight years of loneliness and sadness and pain coalescing in one moment of violent betrayal.

“I’m scared,” she cried out, ragged and weak, choking on her tears. “Daddy, please.”

He was crying openly now as he shook his head. “It won’t hurt much, I promise. I promise.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep now, little one.”

He placed a thumb on the center of her forehead, the rest of his fingers cradling the side of her face, and then all she knew was white.

Jacen Solo let out a heavy sigh as he wiped tears from his face. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to feel much of anything – it was necessary, in order to do what needed done – and this sudden outpouring of emotion was proving to be much more draining that he’d expected.

He gazed at his daughter – his daughter – and lifted a hand to stroke her hair, her cheek. She was nearly grown, but he could still see the little girl she’d once been. The same little girl who had beamed with joy when he finally told her he was her father, who had climbed into his lap and held onto him as if she never wanted to let go. Who had trusted him when no one else did.

She would hate him for this, he knew that. She had every right to. But he would take no chances, not when he was so close to the end. He was never letting her go again.

A spasm coursed through her, and several strands of copper-colored hair fell across her face as her head lolled to the side. He reached out to tuck them behind her ear, then he leaned in to kiss her forehead again.

“I will fix this,” he whispered, though she was unlikely to hear him.

An electronic tone from the wall-mounted comm – one of the few things in the room not overgrown by Yuuzhan Vong biots – signaled an incoming message.

“My master,” Lady Varice said. “The Jedi’s starfighter has entered the system. We’re preparing to engage.”

Master of the Sith… Yun-Yammka, the Slayer, and Yun-Shuno, the Pardoner… warrior and philosopher… light of the Jedi, eldest son, last hope, brother, heretic, savior, traitor… he’d filled so many roles for so many years, even after deciding not to tie himself down to anyone else’s perception of who he ought to be. But he was good at playing those roles, he’d found. And they’d all been necessary in their own way.

Darth Krayt would have made things as difficult as possible for the Chosen One, the man destined to become Lord Vader. Darth Krayt would have forced Anakin Skywalker to prove himself over and over again. But right now, Jacen Solo was tired, and his daughter was in pain, and he’d waited long enough for this battle.

“Call off your forces,” he ordered. “Let the Jedi come.”

There was a very long pause. “Let him come, my lord? Unimpeded?”

Jacen inhaled deep, unable to look away from his precious child. To think that he’d nearly lost her on Vjun, without even realizing it. That knowledge gnawed at him still.

He turned slowly away from Allana to face the comm. “Tell Lord Festus and Lord Ferrus that their orders are to guard the tower at any cost. Everyone else, stand aside. Do not engage the Jedi.”

Another long pause, though this one held less hesitance and more dark amusement. “As you wish, my master.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Two

Anakin Skywalker wasn’t a fool, and though he was occasionally painted by the Republic propaganda machine as the brawn to Obi-Wan’s brains, those who followed him into battle knew that he was a skilled and daring strategist. He knew a trap when he saw one. And this was most definitely a trap.

The remainder of the Sith fleet in orbit over Coruscant had only just started maneuvering to intercept his X-wing fighter when they suddenly backed off, returning to the patrol patterns they’d been maintaining before spotting him. When he flew closer, a few of the enemy starfighters actually veered away from his path, avoiding him as though ordered to.

Of course they’d been ordered to. This was what Jacen wanted. He’d said as much on Vjun, hadn’t he? The full, extraordinary power of the Chosen One…

Yeah, this was a trap, all right. And Anakin had always been pretty good at springing traps. Even if he hadn’t been, he didn’t have much choice. Allana was down there, and he was going to get her back. Anakin angled his fighter between the two closest Star Destroyers, buzzing past one of their bridges, and began his descent toward Coruscant.

Like so much of the galaxy in this time, the capital of the Republic – no, the capital of the Sith Empire, he reminded himself – felt wrong to him, as if its very essence had been altered. He supposed that was quite literally true in Coruscant’s case; Ben had told him how the Yuuzhan Vong had reshaped the ecumenopolis in the image of their annihilated homeworld, renaming it Yuuzhan’tar and changing its orbit to make it a suitable jungle environment. And even though efforts had been made after the war to return the planet to its former glory – not that Anakin had ever found it particularly glorious, however awe-inspiring the sight of it might have been – there was still much of Yuuzhan’tar left behind in the planet below.

Anakin guided his starship through the atmosphere and was greeted with a sight that, while different, still resembled the old Coruscant in many ways. Neon lights flashed against the deep blue backdrop of night, reflecting off of unending streams of speeder traffic that weaved around glittering skyscrapers. And in the place where the Jedi Temple had once stood, there now rose an angular black fortress whose forbidding spires nearly disappeared against the dark sky.

He met with no resistance as he guided his ship to one of the Sith Temple’s landing pads, just as he met no resistance upon entering the fortress and beginning his ascent to the top of the tallest spire. He could sense Jacen’s minions lurking close by, no doubt confused by their master’s orders to let him pass. Anakin was still a little surprised that his grandson hadn’t sent someone to face him. That would have been more consistent with the Sith Master he fought on Vjun, trying to push him to his limits and beyond. He wondered what was waiting for him in the tower.

He could feel Allana up there somewhere. Though it was strangely muted, her agony still bled into the Force, assaulting his senses. He ground his teeth together and forced himself to focus.

As he neared the center of the temple, he heard voices ahead, the sounds of an argument.

“—really going to pretend that didn’t just happen—”

“The hell do you want me to do? We have our orders—"

“Screw our orders, we don’t owe that traitor anything!”

Anakin turned a corner and found himself staring down a narrow corridor with a single turbolift at the end. In front of that elevator were two dark-haired human males. The taller of the pair was pacing back and forth and looked on the verge of violence, while the other watched, hardly moving at all.

Their arguing ceased as they turned to face him, and rage flared in Anakin’s chest as he recognized them, recognized the shorter one who had nearly killed Allana on Vjun. Festus, she’d called him; and though the boy stood completely still, the current of the Force was chaotic and frenzied around him, floodwaters beating against a crumbling dam. He let out a short, barking laugh.

“Look who it is, brother,” Festus said, grinning too wide for his face.

The taller boy – Ferrus, he assumed – cracked his knuckles and glared at Anakin. “Great. Fair warning, Jedi: we’re in a really bad mood.”

Anakin drew and activated his borrowed lightsaber, the emerald blade casting an eerie glow over the corridor. “I thought I already dealt with you two,” he said, swinging the saber at his side.

The Sith activated their own lightsabers in perfect unison, and Festus made a casual, sweeping gesture with his blade. “You’re not the first person to tell us that—”

“—and you won’t be the last,” Ferrus finished.

They sprang at him, spreading out to attack from either side. Ferrus barreled directly into him, battering Anakin’s blade with his own while Festus dropped into a slide and slashed at his legs. Anakin pivoted out of the way and caught Festus under the chin with a hard kick. Without pausing, he deflected Ferrus’s next strike and shoved back with his full weight, sending the boy stumbling backward. Then he raised both hands, throwing Festus and Ferrus against opposite walls, pinning them in place.

Anakin looked from one twin to the other. “I really don’t have time for this,” he said with a growl.

Ferrus grunted as he tried to break free of Anakin’s Force grip, but Festus just laughed again. “Don’t you want to finish what you started last time, Jedi? Do you know how easily I could have killed her? Maybe I’ll get another chance at it, after you fail to save her.”

His mocking words burrowed under Anakin’s skin, eating away at his already tenuous calm. He didn’t have time to deal with both young Sith Lords at once, that was true. But maybe just one…

He released his hold on Festus; no sooner had the shorter boy dropped to the ground than he was hurtling forward, meeting Anakin blow for blow as they circled each other in the narrow corridor. Anakin ducked under a wide swing and deactivated his saber, striking Festus across the face with the hilt. Before the boy could recover, Anakin tossed his saber to his left hand and made a fist with his artificial right, smashing it into the Sith Lord’s jaw. Then he kicked him hard in the stomach and sent him crashing to ground.

“I’ll kill you, Jedi!” Ferrus roared from behind him, straining against Anakin’s hold. “You’re dead!”

Festus staggered to his feet, lightsaber melting durasteel as it dragged along the floor beside him. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his wrist, and grinned. “That the best you’ve got?”

He charged forward and swung his lightsaber again; Anakin ignited his saber and caught the crimson blade with ease, rolling his wrists just enough to tear the weapon from the Sith’s hands. Festus lunged at him, drawing a knife hidden in his left sleeve, slashing at Anakin’s stomach. The Jedi weaved his way past the jagged blade, knocking it from the boy’s hands; then he grabbed Festus by the throat and lifted him off the ground.

“You are beaten,” he growled.

Festus stared back at him, eyes wide. “Do it, Jedi,” he whispered. “Finish it. You know you want to.”

“Shut up, idiot!” Ferrus screamed. He was strong; Anakin could feel his dark energy lashing out, desperate to break free. He wouldn’t be able to hold him back much longer, not with his attention split like this.

He squeezed the fingers of his bionic hand, felt them press against his enemy’s throat. It wouldn’t take much; the enhanced strength in his prosthetic was more than enough to crush a human windpipe. When he thought of Allana’s face, tear-stained and shoved into the filthy rug of that ballroom… it wouldn’t take much at all.

Festus gasped for breath, but he didn’t struggle. His eyes were squeezed shut, and Anakin saw tears slip down his cheeks; and he remembered how Allana had pleaded with him on Vjun, how Padmé had pleaded with him before her death, begging him to stop, to come back to her…

He released his hold on the Sith Lord, and the boy collapsed to the ground while his brother continued to scream all manner of threats. Festus reached for his knife and found it, swiping blindly at Anakin; but the Jedi swept one arm to the side and sent both brothers smashing into the wall. They fell in a heap together, unconscious.

Anakin let out a breath, squared his shoulders, and strode forward to enter the turbolift. As the lift closed and began to ascend, his heart raced. There was something very wrong above him, something about the room, or maybe the tower itself. Cold dread settled upon him as he realized the only thing he could clearly sense about the room was that Allana was in it.

The turbolift stopped, and the doors parted to reveal the most bizarre throne room Anakin had ever seen. It was lit by globes of bioluminescence like those on Zonama Sekot, and just about every surface was covered with vegetation. Mucous membranes along the walls and ceiling; carpets of long, wild grass that climbed a wide staircase at the center of the room before spreading out along the perimeter; and splitting those stairs up the middle, a path crusted with a coral-like substance. Beyond the staircase, was a massive, curved window and a throne made of that same coral.

Despite the organic and alien nature of the room, Anakin was struck by a sense of familiarity. For one terrible instant, he was back on the Invisible Hand, Palpatine seated upon high, Count Dooku’s headless body lying before him.

“Welcome, Grandfather.”

Anakin twisted toward the sound of Jacen’s voice, somewhere to the right. At first it was too dark to see, but after a few seconds he could make out two figures in the far corner of the room. Instead of the armor he’d worn on Vjun, Jacen was dressed all in black, in clothing of a vaguely military cut. He appeared so much smaller than he had before. Hardly the larger-than-life Master of the Sith who’d defeated him. Even from this distance, he could see the weight of age and experience that separated this Jacen from the version of him Sekot had impersonated.

Anakin’s eyes shifted to the apparatus Jacen was standing beside. His stomach churned when he saw Allana strapped to it. No, not strapped. The apparatus – the organism – was holding her in place with gnarled, fleshy appendages that resembled the branches of a tree. She was alive but unconscious. It took everything in him not to instantly run to her rescue.

“What the hell is that thing?” he growled, heat rising up in him with every breath. “What are you doing to her?”

Jacen frowned and placed a hand on Allana’s forehead. “I’m keeping her safe,” he said gently. As he spoke, he caressed the side of his daughter’s face. “And helping her to understand. The Embrace of Pain can be a great teacher as well as diviner. It set me on my path; it can do the same for Allana.”

Anakin’s mouth went dry. The Embrace of Pain? Why hadn’t Ben ever mentioned this?

Jacen’s lips cracked in a faint smile as he looked away from Allana. “You know nothing of this, do you? I see I wasn’t the only thing Ben kept secret from you.”

Anakin’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his lightsaber as understanding caught up with him. “You… you did this to him, too?”

Jacen’s expression shifted once more from vague amusement to an almost wistful sadness as he returned his gaze to Allana. “I only wanted what was best for him. What was best for our family.”

Anakin’s gut twisted. Jacen hadn’t just fallen to the dark side – he’d lost his mind. He’d been ready to face the relentless Sith Master he’d fought on Vjun, with his smug superiority and fearsome strength. But this demented, delusional man before him, who seemed somehow more pathetic and more threatening? Anakin didn’t even know where to begin.

He shook his head. He couldn’t take anything he saw or heard at face value. The dark side was clever and adaptable. Palpatine had been proof enough of that. “I don’t understand how torturing someone could ever be what’s best for them, but then I guess I’m old-fashioned.”

There was something dangerous in the way Jacen smiled and dropped his gaze for just a second. “My offer still stands, Anakin. You may not understand now, but I can help you unlock your potential and fulfill your destiny.”

Anakin eyed his surroundings, looking for a way to distract Jacen and free Allana. “How? The torture thing? Not interested.”

“You’ve been looking for something greater all your life, haven’t you? Something even other Jedi couldn’t achieve? Isn’t that why you were going to take Palpatine’s offer? To achieve that power?”

“A life of significance,” the Chancellor had said as he quietly tore Anakin’s world down around him. “Of conscience.”

Palpatine had known all along. He’d known that deep down, Anakin yearned for more than what the Jedi offered, that he’d wanted to make a real difference, to be the hero, to change the galaxy. To force change, if necessary, especially where corruption ran rampant and the innocent suffered. To be truly powerful, more powerful than the politicians and the crime lords and war profiteers and slavers – and then to crush all that greed and rot and sickness under his heel, never to rise again.

Jacen watched him carefully, his expression inscrutable. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Anakin. I’m hardly in a position to judge.”

Anakin shook his head. “I wanted to save Padmé’s life,” he insisted, clinging to that truth like a lifeline.

“And I want to save my family. Our family.” His grandson lowered his eyes and let out a quiet, mirthless laugh. “You know, I spent so much of my life in your shadow, haunted by your crimes, my heritage. And my brother—” Jacen hesitated ever so slightly over that word. “—he fought harder than any of us to reverse your legacy.”

In the Embrace, Allana let out a quiet moan, and every one of Anakin’s instincts screamed at him to save her.

“Jacen,” he said as calmly as he could, hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. “I know you don’t want to hurt her. Please, just let her go.”

For the first time since he’d arrived, Anakin saw a flash of uncertainty in his grandson’s eyes. It was followed quickly by cold anger. “Do you think this is what I wanted? Do you think any of this is what I wanted?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin said, placating. “I don’t know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you from this. But I’m here now.”

Jacen stared back at him. “Stand firm,” he murmured. “You were there, when I needed you. When the universe spun around me, and everything was suddenly within my power to choose, it was your voice I heard. In your own way, you helped me become what I needed to be, to save everyone.” There was a hint of awe in Jacen’s voice as he continued. “Don’t you see, Anakin? You’re not here to save me. You’re here to help me. You’re the proof that my plans haven’t been in vain, that events aren’t set and that there’s still time to make things right.”

“You must have wondered why you’re here.”

“No,” Anakin said in disbelief, Sekot’s words still echoing in his head. “Whatever reason you think I’m here, it’s not to help you carry out some delusional plan to, what… change history? Erase what you’ve done?”

Jacen didn’t move, and a shadow seemed to pass over his face. “I would have thought,” he said quietly, with an edge of durasteel, “that the man who traveled across time and space would be a little more open-minded.”

Anakin gripped the hilt of his saber harder. “Do you really think you can kill and kill, and as long as your reasons are good, it’s okay? Because you’re going to make things right?”

His grandson took a halting, labored breath, and his features twisted in a semblance of pain. “You know, a long time ago, I thought I knew the answer to that question. I thought I knew a lot of things. And now here we are.”

Anakin stretched out with his senses again, but the entirety of the room was still hidden from him. When he’d listened to Ben’s story about the Yuuzhan Vong and their technology, he’d never imagined he might actually encounter it. He was starting to wish he’d asked for more information back then.

“I’m not going to help you,” he said, straightening up to full height. “And I’m not leaving without Allana.”

Jacen sighed and rolled his shoulders back. “Then you leave me no choice.” He reached behind his back and pulled out two lightsabers. They activated with a snap-hiss, one violet and one blue. “Because I’m not letting her go again.”

Anakin ignited his weapon and gripped it with both hands. “I don’t want to fight you, Jacen.”

The Sith Master flourished his Jedi lightsabers and began to walk toward Anakin. “I don’t think it matters what either of us wants anymore.”

As Anakin raised his lightsaber, something sharp struck him in the shoulder. He spun around to fight it off, but he saw and sensed nothing. Jacen continued to walk toward him, a small smirk twisting his mouth.

“Razor bugs. They’re an old Yuuzhan Vong weapon. You won’t be able to feel them in the Force.”

Anakin reached up with one hand to check his shoulder. His fingers came back stained with blood. Great. “I was hoping you were actually going to fight me this time, not just throw things at me.”

Jacen circled around Anakin, pointing the violet blade at him. “If you insist.”

Then he sprang.

“Have you got a read on Gren and the others yet?”

Tahiri opened her eyes and looked up at Myri, who was peering around the corner of the building they were sheltered behind. The ground rumbled beneath them as two of the AT-ATs trudged in their direction, and Sith bombers continued to streak across the sky, unloading their payloads all across Salis D’aar.

“Not quite,” Tahiri replied, unable to keep her frustration from seeping into her voice. “I’m having trouble pinning him down.” She nodded in the direction Myri was facing. A few blocks away from their hiding spot, there was a large, open plaza lined with shops and restaurants – all currently vacant as the citizens of Salis D’aar took shelter or fled the city. “I thought I sensed something near that plaza, but I can’t be sure.”

“He must be shrouding his presence from the Sith,” Valin said from behind her.

“Makes sense,” Myri said. There was something odd in her tone.

Tahiri straightened up a little. “What is it?”

Myri pulled back behind the wall, her face grim. “Those walkers are getting awfully close.” She pointed at two of her soldiers. “You two. Take half the squad and circle around the walkers from behind. See if you can slow them down.”

The soldiers saluted. “Understood, General.”

After the soldiers had moved out, Tahiri saw Valin raise an eyebrow at Myri. “General Antilles, huh?” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, you didn’t hear about my promotion?” Myri rolled her eyes and leaned out past the edge of the building for another look. “There goes my career as a covert intelligence operative.”

Tahiri was about to interject when an icy tendril of fear dragged up her spine. “Gren,” she whispered. She could feel his fear – not for himself, but for the Jedi in his care. He was very close to the plaza. Tahiri closed her eyes and expanded her awareness past the city to the walkers. She sensed them now, the Sith Lords in the lead transport. Most of them felt too vague to be familiar, but she recognized two of them. Darth Dominius and Darth Satrus, members of Krayt’s inner circle.

Jacen’s inner circle, she reminded herself. Her thoughts flitted briefly to Ben before she planted herself once again in the here and now. He could handle himself. Right now she had to figure out how they were going to save their friends while fighting off a handful of Sith Lords and dozens of soldiers.

Before she could say anything, Valin’s eyes grew wide and unfocused. He’d felt it, too. “Well,” he said, “we didn’t really think we’d get out of here without a fight, did we?”

Myri turned to where Ulin was hard at work on his datapad; she waved to get his attention. “Any luck contacting Bakuran defense?”

Ulin nodded without looking up, fingers tapping away with astonishing speed. “I think I’ve almost broken through. And I’m running a search for possible safe house locations we might have missed.”

The familiar clanking of the Sith walkers filled the air around them, and Tahiri sensed a swell of panic, one that was distinctively Gren; and in her mind’s eye, she saw him clearly for a few seconds, lightsaber ignited as he left his hiding place and charged in the direction of those walkers. She wanted to call out to him, but then another image came to her, of children and apprentices huddled in a bunker or basement of some kind. She could feel them all now, as if a curtain had been thrown back to reveal their presence.

She stood next to Myri and looked out past the plaza, where the walkers had maneuvered around a tall building and squadrons of bombers still peppered the sky; and she watched as a lone Jedi Knight made his last stand.

Tahiri ran ahead without thinking. She was dimly aware of the explosions that had begun to rain down near them, of Valin and Myri and the others running after her. The enclave was her objective; the Jedi had to be protected if Gren’s sacrifice was to mean anything. If all the sacrifices were to mean anything. Too many had died to keep them safe. Mara, Tenel Ka, Han, Leia…

Tahiri!

The mental call broke into her thoughts, and she stopped abruptly just as a building blew up in front of her. She was thrown backward into her squad; when the debris began to settle, she found herself in Valin’s arms. Tahiri looked up at her old friend.

“Thanks for the warning,” she said, hardly able to hear her own voice through the ringing in her ears.

Valin gave her a wry grin and helped her up from the rubble. Next to him, Myri was on her comlink, calling for an extraction team.

“The children,” Tahiri said, fighting to catch her breath. “Ulin, do you have anything—”

She cut off as she turned and saw Ulin lying on his back among the debris, scarlet blossoming across the front of his shirt. He lifted his head up to look at her and groaned.

“That hurt,” he said, sucking in a breath between his teeth.

Tahiri was at his side in an instant, lifting his head and shoulders into her lap. She reached down to inspect the wound, but he raised a hand to stop her. She realized he still clung to his datapad.

“Found them,” he said, hand shaking as he held the device up for her to take.

Myri dropped to her knees next to them and raised her comlink to her lips. “I’m going to need a medic with that evac team, Green Leader.”

“Copy that, Blue Leader.”

Tahiri took the datapad from Ulin and glanced down at indecipherable streams of information scrolling across the dust-covered screen. “I can’t…"

“Here.” Myri reached out and took the datapad from her. “Let me.”

While Myri scanned the data, Tahiri returned her attention to Ulin, to the wound in his side. “You’re going to be all right,” she said as she applied pressure. “The evac team is on its way.”

“Ulin, you genius!” Myri whooped as she jumped to her feet. Her eyes swept over the plaza, and she pointed toward the far end. “Undari’s Speeder Emporium. The owner was part of the Great River during the Vong War, a pilot. The plans for her shop include a basement; that must be where Gren stashed the kids.”

Ulin let out a small laugh. Too weak. “See? Now go save them, and don’t worry about me.”

Tahiri would have shaken him if he wasn’t so gravely injured. “That’s enough of that. We’re coming back for you, and you’d better not die on me while I’m gone.”

Another weak laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

Something pooled in her chest as she watched him struggle for breath, as she felt the chaos and fear in the city around her and thought of the lives she’d been too late to save. She recognized the feeling from too many battles waged across too many worlds, and all the losses she’d taken each time, piling up one on top of the other; from Yalena to Coruscant to Corellia, to Ossus, to the space over Myrkr… it threatened to drag her down with its sheer, horrible mass. And yet…

And yet, it didn’t drag her down. It wouldn’t drag her down, because she was still a Jedi Master, one of the last, and she still had so many lives to protect. The waters of her grief could stretch on and on, if she let them – a vast ocean of pain and suffering and misery, with a weight and current that most beings couldn’t hope to fight against. But she’d been broken before, and reforged through her own will into someone who could keep fighting, who could lift others up to keep them from drowning.

Tahiri bent forward to place a kiss on Ulin’s cheek. “Hey. Wish me luck.”

He grinned a little at that. “I thought Jedi didn’t believe in luck?”

She shook her head and smiled. “No harm in hedging my bets, is there?”

“There she is.” He winced and closed his eyes. “Good luck, Master Jedi.”

Myri waved one of her soldiers over, and Tahiri shifted Ulin carefully into his arms. Then she headed for the edge of the plaza, Myri and Valin close on her heels.

Undari’s was on the northwest side; they moved along the perimeter of the plaza, listening all the while for the tell-tale clanking of the Sith walkers, until finally, they reached the building.

The shopkeeper was a short, round woman of advanced years, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she opened the door. “Come on, quick, Jedi,” she said, waving them into the store. A moment later, Tahiri found herself in a low-ceilinged basement facing a cluster of very young Jedi students. They were watched over by a recently Knighted young Mirialan woman named Bree; Tahiri had only interacted with her directly a handful of times, but she’d always known her to be a levelheaded and capable apprentice.

“Bree,” Tahiri said as the dark-haired girl stepped forward. “There’s no time, the Sith are coming.”

“Master Gren…?”

Tahiri took the young Knight by the shoulders and shook her head. “We have to go, now.”

“This way,” Valin said, motioning up the stairs. The children rose quickly and followed him. Tahiri and Bree brought up the rear. They had just reached the street when a familiar deep hum met their ears. Tahiri twisted around in time to block the Sith Lord’s descending blade. Through the mingling of red and blue light she saw a Twi’lek woman sneering at her.

“Ready to join your friend, Jedi?”

Tahiri countered with a series of quick, tight strikes, turning her opponent’s momentum back on her. She sensed the other Sith nearby, as well as Valin coming back to help her.

The Twi’lek Sith slashed wildly with her lightsaber before flipping in a high arc over Tahiri’s head. She landed several feet away, right next to Darth Dominius and Darth Satrus. The Falleen man regarded Tahiri coolly, his saber activated at his side.

“I had hoped Skywalker might be here. We never had a chance to finish what we started on Vjun.”

Tahiri raised her weapon in front of her as Valin took up a defensive position at her side. “I guess you’ll have to settle for me,” she said.

Dominius smiled just slightly and brought his weapon to bear. “Indeed. Skywalker’s master is the only worthy alternative in this situation. I will enjoy killing you.”

She cocked her head to one side, and felt a thrill race through her that was nearly all Yuuzhan Vong. “I’ll enjoy watching you try.”

Before the Sith could move, she lifted her hand and wrenched it back, sending a flurry of debris hurtling at the enemy. The Sith Lords sidestepped it with ease, but the soldiers behind them weren’t so quick. As dust kicked up around them and the soldiers scattered, Tahiri glanced back to where Myri and her squad were herding the children away.

“We’ve got this,” Valin murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

“Yeah,” she said, turning back to the three Sith Lords before them. “You’re damn right we do.”

Anakin had thought Darth Krayt was fast before; but now, without his armor, Jacen moved with incredible speed. He was nearly twenty years older than Anakin, and not only could he keep up, but he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. Anakin dodged a right-handed swipe from the cerulean blade and caught the violet one against his own. As their two sabers clashed, Jacen tried to stab at him with his second one. Anakin shoved hard, knocking the first away and backflipping beyond the reach of the second.

Rather than pursue him, Jacen smirked and rolled his shoulders back. “You’re doing well. There aren’t many who can face me when I fight with dual sabers.”

Anakin ignored the pain in his shoulder and forced himself to breathe normally. “Not a big believer in fair fights, are you?”

Jacen’s eyes narrowed. “Not when the stakes are so high, no.” He twirled the sabers at his sides, creating pinwheels of light that reflected off of the slick membranes lining the ceiling.

“What happened to your red one?” Anakin pointed the tip of his lightsaber toward Jacen’s hip before settling into a defensive stance.

“I put it away. Figured today called for something a little more meaningful than your standard-issue symbol of the dark side.”

He held up the weapon in his left hand, the violet-bladed lightsaber. As Jacen stared into its white center, Anakin was struck by a sorrow that burrowed deep down into his bones.

“This was Jaina’s. When I dragged myself to an escape pod after our duel, I somehow picked up her lightsaber instead of my own. Even at the end we were connected by more than just blood.”

“But you still killed her.”

Jacen lowered the lightsaber, his expression shifting back into neutrality. “As you killed Obi-Wan.”

“I told you, I’m not that man.”

A dark smile twisted his grandson’s lips. “We both know that’s not true.”

Anakin tried not to think of the rush of power that had filled him on Zihrent, as lightning flowed with abandon from his fingertips, or of the teenage Sith Lord whose throat he’d nearly crushed. Most of all, he tried not to think of how Jacen seemed able to peer right into his heart, right to the darkest parts of him.

He tried instead to think of Obi-Wan, of what his friend would say if he were here now. He couldn’t summon any particular words, but for one fleeting instant, he felt a faint spark in the place that had bonded them together.

Anakin took a shaky breath, willing himself to let go of his doubts, his guilt. “I’m a Jedi Knight,” he said. “As you once were.”

Jacen bent slightly at the waist in a mock bow, sabers held out wide at his sides. “See how far you have to fall?”

He heard something behind him, turning in time to see one of those razor bugs flying toward him. He raised his saber and deflected it at the last second, but another one caught him behind the knee. He stumbled forward, and Jacen pounced.

His grandson was as relentless as he had been on Vjun. He pummeled Anakin, his twin lightsabers giving the beleaguered Jedi no respite. Defense had never been Anakin’s preferred strategy, though he was still better at it than most. He usually opted for a more aggressive approach in lightsaber combat, one where he could leverage his height and weight against his opponent. But Jacen countered each move with a fluid grace, turning those attacks back on him as easily as a master toying with his apprentice.

Jacen swung, and Anakin parried, ducking and weaving to avoid the dangerous second blade. He had to disarm Jacen and even the odds a little before it was too late.

“I really am impressed.” Jacen twisted the cerulean and violet blades under Anakin’s emerald one and thrust upward, chasing that motion with a kinetic blast that sent Anakin into a railing covered in slippery organic matter. In the half-second it took for Anakin to regain his footing, a razor bug appeared out of nowhere and sliced him across the cheek. Several more hit his arms and legs. Jacen cocked his head to one side. “But surely the Chosen One can do better?”

The mocking tone was jarring after all his seemingly heartfelt – if delusional – speeches. It burned Anakin to hear him speak that way while Allana’s life and soul were in the balance. It stoked a fire in him that he’d been fighting to suppress since he lost control on Zihrent – no, since he’d arrived here, since before he’d arrived here. Since the Invisible Hand and the Outer Rim Sieges, the beginning of the Clone Wars and the death of his mother and his first kill on Zonama Sekot, all the way back to his days as a slave, when he’d dreamed every day and every night of having a power that could set him free.

He didn’t want to resist anymore. Not if it meant losing Allana. He ignored the blood trickling from the gashes on his face and limbs, and he glared at the Master of the Sith.

“Just remember,” he said, focusing his will on the metal beams running across the ceiling, hidden under layers of coral and mucous membranes. “You asked for this.”

He raised his left hand toward the ceiling, and it began to shake and crack apart. Yorik coral rained down upon them as pieces of metal sheeting broke off and fell to the floor. Anakin smirked and looked back at Jacen.

The panic he’d hoped to see on the other man’s face wasn’t there. Instead, Jacen seemed pleased.

Anakin let out a growl and ran toward the Sith, swinging his lightsaber in a flurry of attacks that actually succeeded in pushing Jacen back. As he opened himself to the full spectrum of the Force, he felt himself more focused than before, able to perceive Jacen’s intent well in advance. What had been a grueling, uphill fight before was now a series of moves as natural to him as a well-practiced dance. In five steps he would relieve the Sith of one of his lightsabers. Four steps. Three… two…

One.

The emerald blade sliced through Jaina’s lightsaber, destroying the hilt and the crystal inside. Anakin shifted his weight and kicked Jacen square in the chest. The older man staggered backward.

Anakin pointed the tip of his blade at Jacen. “Was that good enough for you?”

Jacen rubbed absently at his chest, but once again he seemed more pleased than perturbed. He twirled the blue saber in his right hand and smiled. “What do you know?” he said in a soft and menacing murmur. “I wondered when I’d get a glimpse of the great and terrible Darth Vader.”

Jacen took a faltering step toward him, lightsaber only half-raised. He stopped a few paces away and straightened up to his full height, cracking his neck as he did so.

“You’re still holding back, Anakin. You need to surrender your control and leave your limits behind.”

“Enough!” Anakin raised a hand and hit Jacen with a kinetic burst. His grandson lifted one arm to block, but he still slid back a few steps.

“It will never be enough. The Jedi way won’t protect the ones you love. The Jedi way would see them die.”

From across the room, Allana let out another gasping moan, and Anakin felt a scream buried in his chest, fighting its way out. A red haze across his vision, grief and rage filling him like smoke. The beams and ceiling panels that had survived his first attack began to tremble; the entire room shook as Anakin reached for the power he’d denied himself. It didn’t matter if this was what Jacen wanted. He had to save Allana.

The tremors grew more violent, radiating from Anakin in waves. They flowed up the walls, breaking off whole sections of coral. Underneath, the metal buckled and twisted apart at the seams. Jacen deactivated his lightsaber and raised both arms to slow the onslaught of debris, but he was unable to match the strength of Anakin’s wrath. The Chosen One had become a rolling tide of fury, and he was about to wipe everything out.

Anakin raised his hands in the air once more and pulled back with all his might; and the ceiling came crashing down.

The Daybreak streaked toward the Eradicator, weaving in and out of narrow gaps between the other Sith warships in their path. As the approached Krayt’s flagship, a squadron of Sith fighters flew to intercept them.

“Hold on!” Elias yelled from the cockpit.

Arden had her hands on the turret controls, waiting for the fighters to enter her crosshairs. The first one appeared, and she opened fire. The pilot was ready for her, though. He turned the ship on its side, and the laser flew right past him. Arden readjusted her grip and narrowed her eyes at the viewport.

The ship bucked, and Arden was thrown back in her seat. Below her, she heard Ames swear.

“Sorry!” Elias said as the helix fighters swarmed around them. Now there were so many that Arden hit one every time she fired. Elias continued to zig and zag between the larger starships, rolling the Daybreak so that Arden and Ames could get better shots at their attackers.

“I didn’t know you were this good of a pilot, Elias!” Ames whooped and called out as two more Sith fighters were turned to dust.

“I fly all the time!”

“Are you sure? It’s Ben’s ship.”

“I do at least forty-two percent of the flying around here.”

The Daybreak dove, narrowly avoiding the bridge of a Star Destroyer.

“That’s a very specific percentage,” Kohr said skeptically.

“Still sounds made-up,” Ames added.

“Hey!” Arden shouted into the comm. “Less talking, more shooting of Sith Lords!”

The comm was quiet for a moment before Kohr broke the silence. “I love this ship,” he said with a happy sigh. Arden shook her head and squeezed the trigger as another starship crossed her path.

So much for the whole Jedi stoicism thing. She grinned as Ames let out another victorious cry.

“Blue Five, this is Gold Leader,” a new voice said through the comm. “We’re starting our attack run.”

“Copy that, Gold Leader,” Elias answered. “Better make it fast.”

Arden craned her neck to see out her small viewport, and for a second she caught site of the Eradicator, its massive, black form surrounded on all sides by little explosions as the members of Gold Squadron engaged its fighters. A trio of Y-wings hurtled toward the Star Destroyer, ion cannons firing.

“Shields are down,” Gold Leader said. “Good hunting, Blue Five.”

“Copy, Gold Leader. May the Force be with you.”

The Daybreak weaved through enemy fighters and past the members of Gold Squadron, and moments later Arden’s viewport went durasteel gray as Elias flew them right into one of the Eradicator’s hangar bays. Below her, she heard Jysella Horn giving orders as the members of their strike team assembled near the ramp. Arden climbed out of her turret and slid down the ladder, arriving at the same moment as Ames. The boy held his lightsaber in one hand, and he gave her a nod as they joined the group.

Elias jogged from the cockpit, and as he reached her, he pulled her into a kiss. Then he pressed a blaster into her hands. “You sure you don’t want to stay here with Kohr?”

“I’m sure,” she said, gripping the blaster tight. “Where you go, I go.”

He kissed her again, then looked back toward the cockpit. “Cover us, Kohr!”

“You got it, boss!” the young Jedi shouted back.

The ramp lowered, and Jysella was the first down, the blue blade of her lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss as she began to deflect fire from a group of startled Sith soldiers. The strike team fanned out around her, returning fire.

“Come on, Artoo!” Elias waved the little astromech over to his side, and he and Ames positioned themselves in front of him. “We’ve got you, buddy.”

Artoo beeped an affirmative and followed them down the ramp. Arden stayed close to the droid, her heart in her throat as she emerged from the protection of the Daybreak into a frenzy of blasterfire. Their strike team made short work of the enemy soldiers, and after a minute, the hangar was quiet.

“Edrix and Tail, you stay with the ship,” Jysella said. “Alpha group with me, Beta group with Elias.” She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Let’s find our people.”

Arden reached for Elias and grasped his hand for a few seconds. She could feel the nervous tremor in his fingers, and when she looked up at him, she saw a hint of the haunted stare he’d worn in the aftermath of Vjun; but then he gazed down at her and smiled, and she knew with bone-deep certainty that they were going to be okay. Was that a newfound faith in the Force that made her feel that way, or just faith in her friends and in the man she loved? As she followed Elias and the strike team into the belly of the Eradicator, she thought maybe those things were one and the same.

Anakin gasped as he struggled to crawl out from under a body-length sheet of durasteel. Several kilos of metal and duracrete and coral had dropped on him when the ceiling came down; only a last second push from the Force had prevented the ceiling panel from completely crushing him. He pushed up on the end of the panel, freeing the rest of his leg. Pain stabbed through him, from the injured leg all the way up to his side. He gritted his teeth against the feeling.

The entire room had been plunged into near-darkness, and when Anakin looked up he saw frayed electrical wire sparking in what was left of the ceiling; only a couple of the bioluminescent globes remained standing. He found his lightsaber despite the dark, but he didn’t activate it. Though he couldn’t sense Jacen’s presence, he was certain his grandson had survived, and he didn’t want to give him a beacon.

Next, Anakin reached out for Allana. The cave-in had left her miraculously untouched. She was still unconscious and still connected to the Embrace of Pain. As he began to crawl through the debris, he heard the screech of metal grating against metal several meters away.

Jacen.

Shrouding his presence as best he could, Anakin stayed low and continued moving toward the Embrace.

“I know you’re not dead, Anakin.” There was a rough edge to Jacen’s voice, but nothing in it to suggest he’d been seriously injured. Anakin tried to ignore the pain in his leg and side. He couldn’t give Jacen the satisfaction.

“I’m proud of you.” Jacen’s voice was traveling. It came now from the perimeter, near the turbolift. Away from Anakin but closer to Allana. “I’d heard stories about Darth Vader, about what he was capable of. You haven’t disappointed me.”

Anakin took a long, steadying breath. He was such a fool, playing right into Jacen’s hands. And for what? Power? The Sith Lord was alive and well while Anakin nursed more injuries than a gundark hunter. He winced as his leg caught on something, some piece of organic Vong tech that he couldn’t sense. He wrestled silently with the coral – or whatever it was – before his leg finally came loose.

He had failed. Even knowing his future and all the horrible things he’d done, he still reached right into that well of darkness inside him, drinking freely and without hesitation. He chose the dark side. How was he any better than Jacen? He wasn’t.

“You can’t hide forever. Come out, and join me. It’s the only path you have left.”

Anakin reached the short, grass-covered flight of stairs that led down to the Embrace of Pain. It was littered with debris. Since it was too dark to see anyway, he closed his eyes and let the Force guide him. He crawled down the stairs slowly, careful not to disturb anything.

“Do you honestly think Ben and his Jedi will accept you after what you’ve done? Knowing that one day you could be their destruction?”

Anakin was almost to Allana. Jacen’s voice was coming from the center of the throne room now, so he’d only have a few seconds to get Allana out once she was free of the Embrace. Not the greatest odds, but he had little choice. He wasn’t leaving without his granddaughter.

He could just barely make out the organism that was holding her, but now that he was close up he could see its branchlike appendages grasping onto her arms and legs, her waist and her neck. Two of those branches had inserted small barbs into the veins in her wrists. Though she was unconscious, Allana turned her head toward Anakin as he approached. He reached out to her through the Force, calling on its healing energies to soothe her. As if sensing what he was doing, the organism pressed another needle into Allana’s arm; a few seconds later she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Anakin was reaching out to tear the branch-grips off of her when a blue lightsaber ignited above him. He rolled out of the way as Jacen slashed downward where his head had been. Anakin jumped up with more speed than he should have been capable of and activated his saber. In the light of their blades, Anakin saw Jacen’s calm, calculated veneer had vanished, replaced with something feral.

“You don’t touch her!” he snarled.

Anakin raised his saber to block, moving away from the Embrace. “She’s going to die if you don’t stop this!”

Jacen sliced horizontally toward Anakin’s midsection. “The Embrace won’t let her die,” he said as Anakin parried. They traded blow after blow, Jacen attempting to steer Anakin away from Allana. Anakin dodged an overhead swing and spun around to kick Jacen in the ribs. The Sith Lord growled and swung his saber wildly as he fell to his knees. Anakin angled his blade at Jacen’s neck and held it there.

“Tell me something.” Jacen’s breathing was labored as he stared up at Anakin. “If the Force does have a will and it wants you to save me, why did it bring you here? If it was really serious about saving me, why didn’t it drop you in my path ten years ago, before I killed everyone I loved?”

There was genuine bitterness in his voice. Anakin swallowed hard before answering. “I don’t know.”

Jacen sighed and closed his eyes. “Go ahead. Kill me. It’s what I deserve.”

“I don’t want to kill you—”

His back exploded with pain as something sliced across it. He twisted to see a long, serpentine creature coiled on the ground behind him, hissing at him. Jacen sprang to his feet, throwing Anakin across the room with a powerful blast of energy.

Anakin held tight to his lightsaber as he rolled to a stop in front of the empty coral throne. He used it to pull himself up as Jacen vaulted across the gap between them. With one arm still around the throne, Anakin held out his saber in his right hand to block the coming blow. Jacen’s blade slipped under his and snapped up, sending it flying. In the next instant, the blue-white beam sliced through his bionic arm.

It was a strange sort of pain, losing his artificial limb to a lightsaber. There was the initial agony of having his arm severed, then the nerve endings fired almost instantly, sending little jolts through his arm as they short-circuited. He cried out and fell to his knees, clutching at the prosthetic stump.

Jacen kneeled next to him, the lightsaber still activated at his side. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, Grandfather.”

Anakin grunted as he tried to drag himself toward the stairs. In his rational brain he knew he couldn’t escape, but every instinct screamed at him to flee. He managed to move half a body length before Jacen stood up and kicked him hard in the ribs. Anakin coughed and tasted blood. Jacen kicked him again, and this time Anakin tumbled down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he could no longer identify individual wounds; his entire body felt like it was coming apart. He got the feeling some of his wounds from Vjun had reopened.

Jacen leaped from the top of the stairs and landed beside Anakin. His lightsaber hummed next to the Jedi’s ear. “I’m surprised you didn’t recognize this lightsaber.”

Anakin tried to answer, but he couldn’t form the words. All he could do was lie there on his stomach and watch the cerulean saber out of the corner of his eye. He let his gaze wander toward the hilt, and a bitter laugh stuck in his throat as he realized whose weapon Jacen wielded. He wondered that he hadn’t noticed it before.

Jacen didn’t seem to mind that he was silent. “You left this behind on Vjun. I figured I’d hold onto it for you. Did you know your son was using this lightsaber when you cut off his hand? And you think I’m sick.” The blade left Anakin’s field of vision, but he could sense it hovering over him. “I never wanted to hurt any of them,” Jacen continued, his voice suddenly soft. “I hope you can believe me.”

White-hot pain burst in Anakin’s abdomen as the lightsaber pierced him. He gasped for air, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get enough. His lungs and stomach burned, and his remaining limbs started to go numb. His head was spinning, lost in a fog of pain. All the times he’d cheated death, and it had finally caught up to him. Now, now, he knew what it was like to lose everything.

I’m sorry, Allana, he called out to her. That failure hurt worst of all.

Jacen kneeled down next to him and took his chin in his hand, lifting it just slightly off the ground. Fire-rimmed eyes found his. “I know you don’t understand, but I’m going to fix this.” Then the Master of the Sith sighed and deactivated his lightsaber. It was silent between them, and Anakin wondered if that was a small mercy, that he could die in peace, without Jacen taunting him for his failure, without even Allana’s muffled cries to remind him of how he’d doomed her by not being strong enough.

A distant buzzing filled the air, humming steadily in his ears as it grew in volume, and fire raked through his lungs as his breath caught in his throat.

Anakin turned his head and lifted it just high enough to see the man standing in front of the open turbolift, a familiar cerulean lightsaber ignited at his side.

He felt a crack in Jacen’s defenses, then. A sense of relief and anticipation and an overwhelming feeling of completeness. Though he couldn’t see him, he knew Jacen was smiling.

“Hey, Ben. Welcome home.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Three

The turbolift doors opened on a room that had been almost completely devastated. With its ceiling and walls in shambles and every surface covered in debris, the top of the tower was lit by only a few bioluminescent globe stalks, the shimmering lights of Coruscant that filtered through the window, and now, by the blue-white glow of an old Jedi lightsaber.

Ben Skywalker held that saber at his side, lifting it just enough to cast its light toward the base of the stairs where Anakin lay nearly motionless, Jacen kneeling at his side. He swept his eyes across the whole room, searching for Allana, only to find her on a raised platform in the far-right corner, wrapped tight in the Embrace of Pain.

His throat went dry at the sight, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Her anguish, though muted by unconsciousness, called out to him, a low, constant moan that echoed across their bond. He could have wept right then for the agony she was in, for the pain of seeing her so small and broken and helpless. Instead, he took a deep breath and forced his attention back to the men at the center of the room.

His former master looked up, and even in the dim light, he could see the smile creeping across Jacen’s face.

“Hey, Ben. Welcome home.”

Ben swallowed his grief, his fear, his desperation, and he stood tall in the face of his adversary. “I’m not here for a reunion,” he said evenly.

Jacen continued to smile up at him. It was a sickeningly patient smile, the same one he’d given Ben all those years ago when he explained why the path he’d chosen was the only path to peace. Ben hated it. He hated the thought of Jacen’s face being the last one his father had seen before he died. He hated the thought of Allana looking into that face as she was forced into the Embrace. And now this Sith monstrosity held the galaxy’s last hope in his grasp, the one man who could truly make a difference, and he was smiling.

Anakin lifted his head just enough to meet his eyes, and in that gaze Ben saw the same fear and shame he’d carried ever since his father died. I’m sorry, his grandfather seemed to say as he lay there. Jacen stood up and advanced a few steps, stepping around Anakin’s prone form.

“You look older, even more than on Ziost.”

Ben bit the inside of his lip, hard. “Fantastic. Now let them go.”

Jacen tilted his head to one side and shook it. “Straight to the point, as always. But you know it’s not as simple as that.”

“It is that simple. I’m here for Allana and Anakin, and I’m not leaving without them.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” Jacen glanced back at Anakin for a second. Their grandfather’s head had dropped to the deck, his eyes roaming and unfocused. Jacen took in a deep, contented breath and turned to face Ben once more. “I’ve been expecting you, Ben. I wanted you to come here.”

The sincerity in his voice grated along Ben’s nerves, and he felt such an overwhelming urge to silence that voice, to keep it from infecting his thoughts as it had done before. Ben tried to swallow, but his throat was still too dry. Was it all a lie, or had Jacen really anticipated this? Was this his plan all along?

“Do you understand now?” Jacen asked, and behind that sincere tone there was a hint of something desperate. “Do you understand why we’re here?”

Ben flexed his fingers around the grip of his lightsaber. “I told you, I’m here to save Allana and Anakin. I don’t know what the hell you want, and I don’t care either."

Jacen shook his head again. “You’ve grown so much, and yet you’re still blinded by your stubborn refusal to embrace reality. If you’re not careful, it will be your undoing.”

“I’m not the one who’s blind.” Ben raised his saber and pointed it at Jacen’s heart. “And I don’t plan on being undone ever again.”

Jacen lowered his gaze and exhaled with force. “You have every right to resent me, to hate me even – but believe me when I say everything I did, I did out of love.”

Ben felt a tide of anger surging inside him, threatening to overtake him. How could Jacen still be so delusional? How could the man who fought so hard to end a brutal, galaxy-spanning war really not see how insane this was? Did he honestly believe betraying his family and hunting down his friends and brutalizing entire star systems was the key to galactic peace? That there was any world in which torturing his own daughter was justified?

He took a step in Allana’s direction, pulled by the pain he still felt in the space between them; but as he moved, so did Jacen. It took only a few steps for the Sith Master to place himself directly in Ben’s path. Jacen spread his hands wide at his sides, his lightsaber still clutched in one closed fist.

“Tell me you understand,” he said softly.

Ben looked past him at Allana and felt his pulse beating in his throat. He thought back to his training, the many months he’d spent learning from Jacen, absorbing every scrap of knowledge and every fighting technique. In all their sparring sessions, he’d never once bested his cousin. He’d never even come close. The last time they met before Ziost, Ben hadn’t even tried to fight him, because he didn’t want to keep going down the dark road Jacen had set him on, and because he’d foolishly thought he could convince his former master to turn back to the light.

He could still feel the snakelike coil of the Embrace around him, barbs dragging across his flesh as Jacen burrowed into his mind. He could still remember the words, the cool, calm rationale, spoken like a balm instead of the poison it truly was. The tremor started in his arms, faint at first but gathering strength until he felt it arc into his throat as the words tumbled out.

“You told me this was for our family.” The grip of his lightsaber dug into his palms as he held it ever tighter. “That you were making me strong to protect them and the galaxy. You said that, and then you destroyed both.”

Jacen’s expression shifted, giving way to a familiar earnestness as he took a step forward and reached out with one hand. “The galaxy is already dying, Ben. It’s collapsing under the weight of its own decay. Tell me you couldn’t feel that, even before?”

Ben shook his head. “I don’t remember what it was like before. This galaxy, the one that’s dying? You created it.”

“I know that’s what you need to believe. I accept that what I’ve done is horrific, and that you can never forgive me. I don’t need your forgiveness. I need your power. Every sacrifice I’ve made, every life I’ve destroyed – all of it has been in service to one goal: to set you free. To help you achieve that impossible, exalted state that I once did.”

Bile burned in the back of his throat, and as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of those words, Ben felt his entire body go cold. “What?” he choked out.

Jacen took another step toward him. “Imagine for one moment that you’re the most powerful person in the galaxy, more intimately connected to the Force than possibly anyone in history – and imagine it only lasts for a few moments. Then imagine you see a future where your child is threatened, and you know that the only way to stop it from happening is to somehow find that power again, that impossible power that you were only worthy of once in your life.

“I can’t achieve that unity again, but you can. You only lacked the circumstances to drive you to it. A situation as desperate as mine was, fighting a relentless enemy, facing the loss of everything and everyone you ever loved.”

Ben listened to the words, felt them circle him and drag at him and begin to eat him alive. It couldn’t be— it couldn’t—

“You’re insane,” he whispered, unable to move. Unable to breathe.

Jacen frowned, as if Ben had merely failed to grasp his words and needed simple correction. “I didn’t understand it for a long time. I searched for years, looking for a way back to that perfect unity with the Force. I learned from many teachers, but none of them brought me any closer to the truth. So I accepted my fate, and I returned to the Jedi and to my family.” He paused to inhale, and it was as if a world of misery were somehow contained in that breath. “And then Allana was born, and I had a vision of unending war and suffering, and I thought if I could stop that from happening, surely that was right?”

“Right?” Ben’s voice shook, and this time he didn’t try to hide it. “That future you wanted to prevent is here. You created it with innocent blood, with the blood of our family, all because of some vision. How the hell is that right?”

Jacen took another step toward him, close enough now that even in the dim light, Ben could make out the lines in his face, the burdens that had aged him beyond his forty-two years.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” Jacen insisted, shaking his head. “I tried to explain it to them. You don’t know how much— how I tried— but no one would listen.” Jacen looked away for a second, and Ben realized he was glancing back at Allana. The pain that flashed through the Force was pronounced and unfathomable. “I never meant to go so far, but now I can fix it. This is how we fix it. Once you transcend your limits and become completely one with the Force, we can change whatever we want. Bring back whoever we want.”

Ben thought of his parents, of everyone he’d lost. Force, there were so many. Not just his dead, but all the others, across all the worlds, for years and years. All for this? They were all dead because they needed to be dead, to wear him down and push him to his limits, so that he wouldn’t have any other choice?

For a single instant, he wondered if it was actually possible. The power to cheat death, to turn back time, to change everything.

He looked into his cousin’s eyes, not the strange yellow eyes of the Sith, but the brown ones he had grown up knowing. There’d never been a time when he hadn’t known those eyes, or that face, or that voice. He’d trusted him with his whole heart, once. A child’s heart. But he wasn’t a child anymore.

“You’re crazy,” he breathed out. “Your whole sick plan is crazy.”

Jacen’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Is it, Ben? Is it any crazier than a species that exists beyond our ability to sense with the Force? Is it any crazier than a sentient planet? What about our grandfather, dead forty-seven years, traveling across time and space to end up right here, at this moment? Don’t tell me that’s a coincidence, and don’t you dare tell me I’m crazy for seeing the truth that you refuse to acknowledge.”

White-knuckled and losing his grip on any semblance of calm, Ben lifted the blade of his weapon to aim once more at Jacen’s heart. “You let her go,” he said through clenched teeth. “Right now. I won't ask again.”

Jacen’s expression flickered from frustration to something far darker and more possessive. “If you believe nothing else I say, believe this: no one is taking my daughter from me ever again. If you want to try, then you will fight me for her.”

Ben brought his other hand to the hilt of his saber and shifted his stance, raising the blade to his right shoulder. “So be it.”

The sky over Salis D’aar was cloudless and bright with sunlight, its endlessly and vibrantly blue expanse appearing like something out of a painting, or a children’s fairy story. On some worlds, the sky always seemed so close, like you could reach up and touch it and carry some of it with you. Tatooine had been one of those worlds, and despite the vast divide that separated it from Bakura in almost every way, when Tahiri Veila thought back to her youth on the desert planet, she remembered a sky very much like this one.

She and Valin stood back-to-back under that sun-bright sky, turning in a tight, unified circle as they fended off three crimson blades from three relentless and merciless Sith Lords. Their weapons tore a blue and silver path through the dust and debris, halting each attack a split-second before they could find their marks. They shifted in and out of each other’s spaces, united in thought and purpose, blocking and parrying and evading with near-perfect coordination. It still wasn’t a battle meld, exactly, but just as the Jedi had done over Zihrent, so she and Valin fueled one another, lifting each other past their individual limits.

Shots fired from behind her, and out of the corner of one eye, she saw Myri and a few of her soldiers trading fire with the Sith troops across the plaza. A rebel transport ship flew overhead, swinging around to land in a clearing beyond the plaza. Tahiri breathed a quick sigh of relief as she heard Myri yell for the kids to get to the ship.

“You think you’ve saved them, Jedi?” Darth Dominius’s blade slipped under hers and thrust up, trying to create an opening. Tahiri shut off her saber and drew her elbows in, weaving to slip past the Falleen Sith Lord’s defenses. She aimed the hilt at his chest and activated her weapon again; Dominius wasn’t quite fast enough to block, but Darth Satrus intercepted her blade, twirling his saber in a move that pushed her backward.

“Clever,” the human Sith murmured, a hint of a smile on his otherwise stoic face.

“You like that?” she said, bringing her lightsaber across her body for a series of blocks. “I’ve been practicing.”

Unlike Dominius’s more traditional lightsaber form, Satrus’s movements were liquid and hard to predict. While the former occasionally telegraphed his attacks, his companion gave away nothing, forcing Tahiri to rely more on the Force than her own natural reflexes to counter. She sank into that current, surrendering to it, trusting that it would lead her where she needed to go.

Behind her, she could feel Valin’s fatigue, and she did what she could to bolster him. There was still a part of Tahiri that yearned to let loose, to meet her enemies in unrestrained combat and employ every deeply-ingrained fighting tactic seared into her over the years. But they were outnumbered by experienced opponents, and despite their unified front, Valin wasn’t the strongest duelist. Though they worked brilliantly in tandem, she feared what would happen if they broke from their defensive circle.

The ground shook beneath them, and as Tahiri narrowly evaded Satrus’s agile blade, she caught a glimpse of another AT-AT rounding the corner of a building several blocks away. The comlink on her hip issued static for a few seconds before a familiar voice broke through.

“Tahiri!” Myri said with an urgency that held, as ever, just the faintest hint of mischief. “Malinza said to tell the Sith she sends her regards!”

Wind gusted around them as the rebel transport ship kicked up into the air, and Tahiri nearly missed a block as she glanced back at it, Myri’s words not quite registering in her brain. Malinza?

Tahiri caught Satrus’s saber against her own, avoiding a swipe from Dominius as she pivoted to press her attack. The ground shook again, and she extended her perception toward the walker – and in a Force-driven explosion of clarity, she realized the AT-AT wasn’t targeting the fleeing rebel ship or the soldiers on the ground, because it wasn’t a Sith trooper driving it at all—

Her comlink crackled once more. “Oh yeah, Malinza also said to duck.”

The blast hit the building nearest them, shattering in a hail of crumbled duracrete and transparisteel shards and hot, twisted metal. The force of the blast sent Tahiri flying away from Valin and the Sith Lords. She clung to her lightsaber as she fell back toward the ground, landing on a section of wall that had been thrown several meters away from its original location.

As she staggered to her feet, she saw Valin’s silver lightsaber ignite a fair distance away from her, snapping up to block a blow from the Twi’lek woman. Rebel and Sith starfighters streaked through the air overhead, trading fire at a frantic, unsustainable pace. Tahiri turned to vault in Valin’s direction, when in her peripheral vision, she saw a dark-robed figure hurtling toward her, crimson saber blazing a trail through the haze. Behind that blade, two eyes burned like fire from within a flame-red face.

Dominius catapulted toward her, leaping through the air like a bird preparing to take flight. He crashed hard into her cerulean saber, beating her down with every blow. No longer outnumbered or bound by the defensive strategy she and Valin had employed, Tahiri allowed muscle memory to take over. Ritual Tusken gaderffii combat blended with years of Jedi training; it was strengthened by the brutal energy of the Yuuzhan Vong and sharpened by skills she’d developed in answer to the renewed Sith menace.

She probably wasn’t anything like the Jedi of old, the ones to whom Anakin Skywalker belonged, the ones the Galactic Empire had tried to wipe from existence. And she probably wasn’t anything like Luke Skywalker or Anakin Solo, or even the person she herself would have been in a different, better world. But that was okay, because right here, right now, she was exactly the Jedi she needed to be, the one who would end Darth Dominius and any other Sith who came after her family.

Dominius slammed his blade into hers again, over and over, trying to drive her to her knees. Instead of fighting it, Tahiri dropped to her back and kicked his legs out from under him. Dominius didn’t fall, though; he planted one hand on the ground and pushed off in a cartwheel that seemed to defy the effects of gravity. Tahiri jumped to her feet the same moment he landed on his, and they hurtled toward each other again.

As they circled one another, Tahiri caught a glimpse of Valin across the plaza, still locked in combat. He was holding his own against the powerful Twi’lek Sith, but she knew the fight had to be wearing on him. At least they each only had to deal with one opponent. Tahiri stretched out with her senses but couldn’t detect Darth Satrus anywhere. She wondered if he’d been caught in the falling debris.

“Where’s your friend?” Tahiri asked, swinging her lightsaber from her hip to catch Dominius’s descending blade. Her question seemed to spark a new fire in the seemingly unflappable Sith Lord.

“You will die today, Jedi,” Dominius spat, his typical composure crumbling away as thoroughly as the ruined buildings around them. “I’ll send you and all your kind straight to hell.”

“That’s funny,” Tahiri replied as she parried another blow, “because I was going to say the same thing to you.”

Dominius roared and pushed her backward through the debris, gaining momentum as his saber battered hers. Tahiri backflipped onto a narrow support beam jutting out from the wreckage of the building, balancing nimbly on the twisted metal as she searched for higher ground. The Falleen Sith gave chase, navigating the beam with a grace and lightness that was more avian than reptilian, and he grinned a broad, sharp-toothed grin as they ascended high above the plaza. Then he did something totally unexpected.

He threw his lightsaber at her.

She should have reached out with the Force and plucked it from the air, but the sight of it whirling toward her head in a deadly blood-red pinwheel caught her by such surprise that she followed her first instinct, to duck under it. As she did so, Dominius lunged forward and caught her under the chin with a swift kick, and she fell back and hit her shoulder against the beam before toppling off of it completely.

The drop was at least five meters. Tahiri tried to slow her fall, but she still landed hard on her side among the shattered remains of the plaza, gasping at the pain that wrenched through her as she sucked in a breath. Her ribs, she realized. At least a few of them were certainly cracked, maybe even broken. She grunted as she climbed to her feet, forcing the pain back into a small corner of her awareness. She’d lived through worse injuries, and she wasn’t about to let these ones stop her.

Dominius was still perched high atop the beam, the pigment of his skin cooling to an ashen green as he regarded her. “All that you’ve endured, and still you stand.” He shook his head and gave her a pitying smile. “The world you fight for is gone, Master Veila. You cling to the dying embers of a galaxy that cannot hope to sustain itself. We will tear it down so that it might begin anew, unencumbered by the countless millennia of rot that came before.” He closed his left hand in a fist and raised it toward the sky. “Can you not see your defeat is inevitable? Why fight against it? Why not join us?”

Tahiri tasted the copper tang of blood in her mouth, and she kept her eyes on the Sith as she spat it out. “You really need to work on your recruiting tactics. I know a thing or two about fanatics, including the fact that every civilization built by them eventually falls.” She thumbed her saber to life and angled it at him. “I’ll take my chances with the dying embers, thanks but no thanks.”

Dominius shrugged and flashed another smile. “It was worth a try.” He leapt to the ground and flourished his crimson blade at his side.

Tahiri forced herself not to grimace as she brought her weapon to bear. Luminous beings, she reminded herself again, closing her eyes for a single second. Not this crude matter.

The Bakuran sun was warm on her skin and bright in her eyes, and Valin’s nearby presence was steady; and Tahiri smiled because the Force was with her.

Blaster fire echoed all through Eradicator’s durasteel gray corridors, and Arden Veiss turned to look over her shoulder, listening.

“It’s getting closer,” she murmured, trying to ignore the frenetic racing of her pulse. Next to her, Ames fidgeted, passing the hilt of his lightsaber from one hand to the other and back again.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” he replied, eyes forward, focused on the astromech droid rolling to the front of their group, one mechanical arm outstretched. The soldiers parted before R2-D2, then reformed in a protective semicircle around both him and the computer terminal. Artoo plugged in, and the dataport cycled and whirred as the little droid sifted through Eradicator’s system.

“Can you sense the others?” Arden asked Ames quietly.

The tall boy nodded slowly. “Yes, but not like what you’re thinking. I can feel them as a group, and Master Horn is more distinct… but my senses aren’t as attuned as someone like Ben or Elias or one of the masters.” He took a deep breath, and then he, too, looked over his shoulder at the empty corridor. “I can tell they’re under a lot of fire, though.”

Arden nodded and glanced down at the blaster in her hands. She knew how to use one, of course. Couldn’t get very far as a smuggler and thief without learning how, but she’d never been in a situation like this one, where a firefight against impossible odds was all but guaranteed. And even though she still felt that strange sense of hope – of faith – it would be a lie to say she wasn’t afraid.

Artoo retracted his arm and issued a long string of clipped, urgent beeps. The soldier next to him glanced down at her datapad. “Medbay, two levels up,” she said, reading the translation off the pad. Her eyes went wide as she continued to scan the screen. “He says the children are slated for… testing.”

Arden looked up and found Elias at the head of the group. He’d blanched noticeably at the soldier’s words, and she saw him swallow hard.

“We need to hurry,” he said. “On me. Ames?”

The boy stepped forward and stood at attention. “Sir.”

Even with the gravity of their situation weighing on them all, Elias couldn’t seem to help the small smile that tugged at his lips. No matter what position he was in now, he was still the stalwart first mate of the Daybreak, and Ames’s friend. “You take the rear. No way we’re getting there without a fight.”

They made their way up the levels and were nearing the last turn to the medical wing when the fight finally found them.

“Rebels!” a muffled voice yelled, and Arden turned in time to see a whole squad of Sith troopers at the end of the intersecting hallway, raising their blasters to fire.

Elias and Ames swept past her, lightsabers igniting with a sizzle as they intercepted the enemy fire. The rebel soldiers behind her started to fall back in the direction of the medbay, shouting over the noise for everyone to run.

The medical wing was a brightly-lit spot of white at the end of the corridor, and Arden jogged toward it, hovering near Artoo, who was surprisingly calm even as laser blasts peppered the air around them. Instead of growing larger, though, that spot of white began to shrink.

“Blast doors!” one of the strike team members shouted. The reinforced durasteel doors shut before they could reach them, trapping them in the corridor with the Sith troopers. Following the rebels’ lead, Arden moved to one side of the hallway and ducked behind the closest archway.

“Master Jedi!” one of the rebels shouted. “A little help?”

Elias turned and sprinted to the blast door, and he plunged his lightsaber into the center. The metal glowed molten orange around the bright blue of his blade.

More enemy soldiers poured into the corridor, and the man next to Arden cried out as a blaster bolt caught him in the chest. She tucked as far back against the wall as she could, hardly able to return fire. Ames stood in front of them, lasers deflecting off his emerald saber, whirling too fast for her to keep up with.

“Elias!” the younger Jedi called out, an edge of panic in his voice. “I can’t hold them!”

Melted metal shards fell to the floor as Elias yanked his lightsaber out of the door and spun around to join Ames in the middle of the corridor. “Artoo!” he yelled over the din. “Get those doors open!”

The droid squealed in reply, and Arden hefted her blaster to take up a defensive position in front of him. “Ready?”

She fired off several shots as she and the ancient astromech emerged from their shelter, making a direct line to the terminal while Elias and Ames weaved a brilliant web of protection between them and the enemy. Artoo extended an arm and began to sort through the electronic tumblers that locked the blast door in place.

“Come on, come on,” Arden muttered under her breath, watching the Jedi out of the corner of her eye. They still moved with incredible speed and precision, but she could tell by the set of their jaws and the sweat on their brows that they were coming up against their limits.

The droid let out a triumphant string of beeps and whistles, and a blast door at the opposite end of the corridor closed, cutting them off from the Sith troopers. Elias and Ames lowered their weapons and staggered backward, breathing heavy.

“Thanks, buddy,” Elias said, still fighting to catch his breath.

Artoo warbled what Arden thought might have been an affectionate response, and then the blast door behind them opened, revealing the sterile white walls of the medical wing. What remained of Beta group stepped across the threshold.

Apart from the soft echo of their boots on the polished floor, the medbay was silent. Arden wasn’t sure what she’d expected to find here; after what Ben had told her of Yalena, she hadn’t really wanted to imagine what might be waiting for them. Somehow, this eerie calm was more unsettling than anything she could have conjured in her imagination.

Doors lined each side of the too-bright corridor, all of them closed. “Spread out,” Elias ordered. “Check each one.”

The strike team dispersed, and Arden followed Elias as he headed for one of the doors. The room inside appeared to be a typical medbay, with a few beds and medical equipment and more white walls. There was no sign that anyone had even touched this room recently.

“Come on,” Elias murmured, his hand resting lightly on her arm. “Let’s keep looking.”

They exited the room and looked around for the rest of Beta group. Ames was leaving the room across from them, and as their eyes met, he shook his head.

“Master Jedi!”

Arden and Elias turned quickly toward the voice and spotted one of the soldiers standing outside an open doorway at the far end of the corridor.

“I found them!” the soldier called out before running into the room.

Elias tensed for a split-second, and then he sprinted down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of the door. Arden saw him slump against the doorframe and breathe a long sigh of relief. He looked back at her and smiled, exhausted but victorious.

“They’re okay,” he said. He disappeared into the room, following after the soldier. By the time Arden reached the room, they were already leading the children out. Most of the kids were still in their nightclothes and appeared disheveled and disoriented, but there were no obvious injuries.

Ames stepped past Arden, scanning the group of children before looking over at Elias. “Master Tivas?”

Elias shook his head, but one of the children raised a hand and pointed to a set of blast doors at the end of the hallway. “They took him in there when we got here. We haven’t seen him, but he’s…” The girl trailed off, tears in her eyes.

Arden gripped her blaster tight as every eye turned to the blast doors.

“Artoo,” Elias said, “get those doors open.”

The little astromech made short work of this set of blast doors, and they opened to reveal another brightly-lit room, easily triple the size of the smaller ones they’d searched. Arden wasn’t sure what this room might have been before, if it had always been part of the medical suite or if it served some other purpose; but a large space had been cleared to make way for a ring of carts and computer monitors, and at their center, the Jedi healer Orion Tivas lay on the room’s sole operating table.

Arden only caught a glimpse before Elias and their team’s medic rushed forward, blocking her view, but what she saw was enough to turn her stomach. Ames came up beside her, and she reached out without thinking, grasping her friend’s arm. He turned toward her, looking away from the center of the room. The last time they’d been in a medcenter together, they’d been waiting for news about Kohr, and Master Tivas had been the one to deliver that news, to reassure them that their friend would be all right.

“Is he…?” Her throat tightened around the words, and she looked to Ames for a response.

The young Jedi covered his mouth with one hand. “He’s holding on, but I don’t—” Ames shook his head and glanced over at Elias, who was assisting the medic in wrapping Orion’s torso with swaths of gauze. “They just left him here, like that, and—”

Arden squeezed his arm where she held on to it. In the center of the room, Elias and the medic finished bandaging Orion, and they sat him up slowly.

“Easy there.” Elias took the brunt of the other Jedi’s weight as he shifted him to the edge of the table. “We’ve got you.”

The medic moved to one side, draping Orion’s right arm over his shoulder. As Elias did the same to his left, Arden finally got a clear look at the man.

His thin flimsiplast shirt was open down the front, revealing a torso wrapped almost entirely in bandages, scarlet already blooming like little flowers against the white gauze. He was sickly pale, too – hardly anything like the man she’d met just a few days ago.

“The children?” he whispered through dry, cracked lips.

“They’re here,” Elias reassured. “They’re okay. They’re all okay.”

Orion closed his eyes and sagged against Elias, relief evident in the tears that slipped down his face and the ragged breath that shook his thin frame. “Thank the Force.”

Elias lowered Orion gently to the floor, then pulled out his comlink. “Jysella?”

The answer was immediate. “Do you have them?”

“Yes. We found them all.”

Arden didn’t miss the way the other Jedi hesitated, or the faint tremor in her voice as she said, “Orion?”

Elias held the comlink up in front of the healer. “I’m here, Jys,” Orion answered, still weak. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too.” Jysella’s soft tone turned urgent. “Elias, the detonators are in place. What’s your location?”

“The medcenter. They know we’re here. Artoo jammed the doors, but it won’t be long before they get through.” Elias inhaled deep, his eyes catching Arden’s for a second. “We could use a diversion.”

“I think I can arrange something. Sit tight – we’re coming to you.”

In the eerie dark of the ruined Sith throne room, two men clashed.

Born of the same lineage, the same blood, they carried in them a legacy of bravery and heroism, a legacy of light – but also one of darkness, one that had always lain in wait, should they ever stumble. And they had each struggled with the duality of that legacy, the duality of walking in brightest light while casting the darkest shadows.

Maybe it was appropriate that the battle between them should be waged with weapons forged by their grandfather, and that those two weapons should be one and the same, separated only by time.

There was a deeper meaning there that neither man had time to fully appreciate – for as much as theirs was a battle between light and dark, between the conflicting aspects of their family’s legacy, it was also a battle between two people who had loved and cared for each other, who had been bound as master and apprentice, whose bond had been built not because they were grandsons of the Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker or the Sith Lord Darth Vader, but because one was Jacen and the other was Ben, and that was all that had ever really mattered to them.

Twin blades of cerulean crashed and hissed in the gloom, battering against each other as these two men – bound together by blood and love and fate – fought on.

Against all of Ben’s hopes to the contrary, age had not diminished Jacen’s combat prowess in the least. If anything, time had only deepened his former master’s skill: his form was precise and economical, and he moved swiftly from one counterattack to the next without ever seeming to rush. As an apprentice, Ben had studied those forms diligently, and he had tried to imitate Jacen’s minimalist fighting style; but no matter how hard he trained, he’d never gotten the better of his cousin. Ben had hidden his feelings well after those matches, rarely voicing just how frustrated he was at his own inexperience, but Jacen could always tell.

One day, was his master’s oft-repeated reply in the face of those frustrations, you’ll be even better at this than me.

Ben swung at Jacen’s midsection, a tight horizontal blow that would have sliced the Sith from hip to hip if it had landed. But very few lightsaber duels ended that quickly, and they still had many more blows to trade before they reached that point.

“The last time we sparred, you were a whole head shorter than me.” Jacen danced out of reach of Ben’s saber and observed him as one might a work of art: critical, but interested; analytical, but also moved. “Seems so long ago.”

“Not long enough.” Ben punctuated his words with a downward thrust, which Jacen intercepted effortlessly, turning his momentum back on him. Reeling a little from the sudden shift, Ben spun away from the blade, putting enough distance between them to regain his footing.

Jacen stood back, continuing to observe rather than pursue. “You look just like him, you know. I didn’t realize how much until now.”

His father’s face flashed unbidden through his thoughts, and he remembered the last time he’d seen him, striding forward to meet the Sith head-on, so focused he hadn’t even looked back.

The rage that had been simmering just beneath the surface began to boil over. Ben brought his lightsaber in line with his center and grasped it tight in both hands. “You shut your mouth. I don’t want to hear you say anything about him.”

Jacen’s rueful smile twisted just slightly as he raised one eyebrow, saying nothing. He retreated up the grass-covered staircase, and Ben followed, battering Jacen’s saber with his own, each swing becoming more exaggerated, more aggressive. Their blades crossed high in the air, then swung low where they crossed again. Ben leaned into the blow with all his weight and forced Jacen’s sword hand away from his body, and he used that split-second to slam his elbow into Jacen’s face.

The Sith Master staggered backward, clutching his face with his left hand. Blood trickled from his nose and into his mouth, and the sight of it triggered in Ben an animal-like rush of satisfaction and a desire – no, a need – to see his enemy thoroughly crushed. That swell of dark emotion propelled him forward, carrying him across the debris-filled room as he and Jacen continued to trade blows.

“That’s it, Ben!” Jacen’s eerie smile was tinged red. “Let go of your limits. Stop worrying about light and dark, and fight me.”

Ben growled and shoved back hard against the next attack. “Shut up!”

But Jacen wouldn’t be deterred. “If it takes the dark side to get you to open your eyes, then so be it. Once you lose everything, once there is nothing holding you back, then you’ll achieve a power greater than any Jedi, greater than any Sith, and you’ll finally understand why this was the only way.”

Ben roared as he ducked past an overhead strike and rammed his shoulder into Jacen’s gut, knocking him to the floor. He resisted the urge to pursue him and end him, trying to ignore that sly whisper that told him he could do it all too easily if he really wanted to, if he just let go.

Jacen stood slowly, saber held in a horizontal line in front of him as he brushed grass from his shirt. His motions were deliberately casual, but Ben could see the heavier rise and fall of his chest, and the sweat gathering on his brow. His old master was growing tired after having already fought Anakin.

“You’re so close,” Jacen said, taking a deep, satisfied breath. “You don’t even know how close you are.”

Gods, would he just shut up? Ben fought to suppress that slow boil of rage, even as he felt it roll through him. “Why me?” he gritted out. “Why am I so fragging special? Why not Jaina or Aunt Leia, or my father?”

Jacen’s calm expression faltered, and Ben saw that same earnestness from earlier. It made him sick. “Because you were the only one who would listen to me, really listen to me back then. But after Uncle Luke— after what happened— I knew you would never hear anything I said.”

—a supernova burst in his brain, and his knees hitting metal, and Mom’s voice screaming through the comlink—

Ben held onto his saber as if it were a lifeline. Maybe it was. Across from him, Jacen shook his head and continued.

“I kept making mistakes; I couldn’t stop – the coup, the Academy, the alliance with the Sith, thinking I understood them, that I could use them – and then I lost Tenel Ka, and Allana, and Jaina…” Jacen’s shoulders sagged, and his voice broke over the words. “I’d shut her out for so long, and then it was too late. I killed my sister, my other half. After that, I knew there was no hope going forward, no hope of ever correcting the balance. The One Sith betrayed me and swept across the galaxy, and that was my fault.” He shook his head again, jaw clenched and eyes suddenly damp. “But I survived against all odds, and I have to believe it was for a reason.”

Ben’s breath shook as he exhaled. “You think we’ll just bring them all back and everything’s okay? You think you’ll be forgiven for what you’ve done?”

“No. I told you, I don’t expect forgiveness. But it’s not enough for us to bring them back, Ben. We have to go further than that, or else the whole cycle will start again. Without balance, the threat I foresaw will come, and Allana will die – and I refuse to let that happen.”

Ben glanced over at Anakin, lying motionless among the grass and the coral. His grandfather’s presence flickered; he was still alive, but fading. Ben turned back and met Jacen’s eyes, and a shiver went up his spine at what he saw there. “What do you mean, ‘go further’?”

“I wasn’t strong enough; I know that now. I need you and Jaina to help bring about the peace we’ve dreamed of. And I need— we need Anakin.”

Ben slashed his saber through the air. “You killed Jaina. You stabbed Anakin in the—”

“Not him,” Jacen said with a growl. “My brother. Anakin.”

The words echoed inside his head for a minute, refusing to make sense. Ben’s voice sounded small and hollow to his own ears. “Your brother is dead. He’s been dead for twenty-five years.”

“But we can change that. We can bring him back. We can fix everything I did wrong, and everything I’ve done since.” Jacen reached out with one hand, and his fingers curled into a fist. “I can do it, with your help. I can go back, save him at Myrkr, save everyone, and then we’ll be able to face the threat I foresaw. No one will be able to hurt our family ever again, and Allana will live a long and happy life.”

Ben raised his lightsaber, readying for his next attack. “You really are insane,” he growled.

Jacen lowered his hand and assumed his own defensive stance, his mental shields wavering long enough for Ben to sense the icy fury contained beneath. “If you think I’m insane,” Jacen said in a cold voice, “then put me down. If you can.”

They moved in the same instant, hurtling toward each other, their twin sabers sparking wildly as they collided. It didn’t matter that Ben had never beaten Jacen in combat. It didn’t matter that he lacked the older man’s experience, or that they were in a temple filled with his evil minions, or that the dark side of the Force all but sang here, inviting him into its furious current. Ben was going to end this deranged monster once and for all.

He attacked with a series of quick strikes, each one coming tantalizingly close to hitting its target. Jacen blocked one after the other, his blade maneuvering into position at the last second to parry with seeming ease; but Ben could see the weight of fatigue in his enemy’s movements. The delayed responses weren’t nearly as deliberate as they appeared, and Ben continued to press the attack, a predator smelling blood.

Then Jacen missed a block, and as he dodged the sweep of Ben’s blade, he tripped over one of the twisted ceiling panels that littered the floor. Stumbling backward, he fell against the yorik coral throne, lightsaber held high to block the coming blow. Ben surged forward and raised his weapon to his shoulder, ready to strike, when he caught a glimpse of Allana in the far corner of the room.

The Embrace of Pain was wrapped around her still, and the muscles in her face contracted from the torture it was inflicting on her. The sight of her like that – so small and broken and completely at the creature’s mercy – was a knife to his heart. The fury that had filled him bled out in a rush, leaving him cold and empty.

“What are you waiting for?” Jacen breathed out, a ragged edge to his voice.

Ben’s shoulders sagged, his saber lowering naturally to a defensive stance. What was he waiting for? He had every right, every reason to end the Sith Lord’s existence. This was the man who’d tortured him, murdered his father, facilitated the kidnapping and abuse of countless children, hunted and killed the Jedi. He was responsible for the loss of almost everything and everyone Ben loved. He deserved to die horribly after all the evil he’d done.

Ben stared down at the brilliant cerulean blade in his hands, the blade forged by his grandfather, passed on to his father, and carried by his mother for most of her life. This weapon had seen years of war, decades of it… but there had been peace, too, hadn’t there? Maybe not as lasting as his parents had hoped for, but still so very precious, and worth guarding to the end.

“I wanted to kill you,” he whispered, still staring at the glowing blade. “I dreamed about it night after night; I wanted it so badly I could taste it. But now…” He shook his head, glancing once more at Allana before meeting Jacen’s eyes. “I can’t be what you want me to be. I won’t. That’s my choice, Jacen. To rise above my own darkness, and yours.”

He took a deep breath, and he couldn’t help the small smile on his lips as he thought of his father’s compassion, and his mother’s strength, and his grandfather’s wry, undaunted grin.

“I’m a Jedi Knight, like so many before me. Like you were, once.” And he knew, in that moment, that he didn’t hate Jacen. Maybe he never had. Maybe it had always hurt too much to admit that he still loved his cousin, his master, his friend.

And before he even realized what he was doing, Ben spoke again, and he said something he couldn’t have imagined saying until that very instant.

“Jacen. It’s not too late to turn back. You can still do the right thing.”

Jacen was silent, head tilted to one side as he looked from Ben’s eyes to the gently humming saber, and back again. The deep furrow of his brow was the only sign that he’d heard Ben’s words, or that he was considering them at all. In the Force, his cousin was as ever a blank.

“The right thing,” Jacen murmured, lingering over the words. A sad smile quirked his lips. “What is that, do you think?”

Ben breathed in and felt it shudder in his lungs. “Call off your fleet. Stop the attack. Let Allana go.”

Jacen reached a hand out to the coral throne and pulled himself fully upright, lightsaber thrumming softly at his side. Ben took a wary step back and raised his own weapon, and Jacen sighed.

“I wish, more than anything, that that would be enough, Ben.”

Sharp, searing pain stabbed across his left side, and Ben nearly stumbled as he jerked his head toward the source of that pain. In the dim light, he saw a serpentine creature rearing back to strike him again. He’d never seen an amphistaff in person – like many of the Yuuzhan Vong biots, they had either been destroyed at the end of the war or transformed into tamer creatures upon returning to Zonama Sekot, and this more lethal version was now considered a relic of the past – but Ben still knew how vicious and deadly they were supposed to be.

The beast sprang at him, slicing once more into his side before he could counter it. As it coiled for a third attack, Ben was blasted into the air by an enormous burst of kinetic Force energy. It threw him across the room, and he landed a few meters away from the Embrace. As he stood, he was hit with another wave of energy that buckled his knees and sent him crashing to the floor.

Legs aching, he stood again, holding his saber in front of him. Jacen hadn’t moved from his place next to the throne. His arm was outstretched, and Ben heard a frenzied, hissing chorus rise up around him in response. He spun toward the closest amphistaff, knocking the creature away with a deft flick of his saber. Two more lancing, searing blows behind each of his knees, and as he fell to the ground, he saw four amphistaffs circling him, ready to strike.

“Enough.”

At Jacen’s soft command the amphistaffs halted their attack. As they slithered away, Ben pressed a hand to the wound in his side. His fingers came away slick with blood, and he almost laughed at the sight of it. He tried to move from his knees to his feet, but the motion sent a wrenching burst of pain through his entire body. Defeated by his own flesh, Ben collapsed onto the floor, and his lightsaber shut off with a static hiss that echoed loud in the silence that followed.

“There’s only one way out of this, Ben,” Jacen called from the other side of the room, approaching slowly. “You know what you need to do. Stop fighting it.”

Ben’s vision swam, and he gripped the hilt of his saber so tight that his knuckles ached. He tried to push off the ground with his right elbow, but he buckled once again under the intense surge of pain. He wondered what it would feel like to die, if it would be any worse than knowing the fate that awaited Allana now that he had failed her. Would he see his parents again? He didn’t know, but he hoped they could forgive him.

Stand up, Ben.

The voice was gentle and unwavering; it filled the dark reaches of his mind with warmth greater than any he could have imagined. For a moment he wanted only to bask in it, to close his eyes and listen to that precious whisper forever.

Ben, you have to stand. The voice was more insistent this time, and he felt as though it was trying to drag him to his feet through sheer force of will. Stand up, I said!

He planted his left hand on the floor and pulled himself to his knees, bracing himself there as he summoned the strength to stand. Jacen was nearly upon him. How could he fight him in this state? How could he hope to win?

Ben, the voice continued. My son, you must stand.

Ben lifted his head and closed his eyes. Instead of darkness, he saw his father’s face, saw his clear blue eyes shining like fire.

Stand up now!

Ben’s eyes snapped open, and with his father’s words echoing in his ears, he ignited his lightsaber and stood up in time to meet the descending blade.

“Impressive,” Jacen said, bearing down with all his weight. “I always knew you would become stronger.”

Ben smiled through the pain. “Does this mean you’re giving up?”

Jacen laughed and swung at his legs, and Ben angled his saber to block. They circled one another, trading blows at an unsustainable pace. Ben surrendered himself to the Force, letting it guide every step, every swing of his lightsaber, every breath. He found he was no longer afraid of what might happen, because the Force was with him, and his father was with him, too. But though the energy of the universe burned bright in him, he was still bleeding too much from too many wounds, and he could feel his body starting to fail.

Allana, he thought, trying to disentangle himself from Jacen’s continued attacks. She was all that mattered now, if he could only reach her—

Jacen’s blade caught against his and tugged hard, ripping Ben’s weapon from his hands. It clattered against the rubble as Ben pitched forward, too weak to halt his momentum. He sensed a flicker of panic in a far-off corner of his mind – not his own panic, but Jacen’s, perceived through the shattered remains of their old training bond. Before he could hit the ground, Jacen grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him into the air. The assured veil had fallen from his cousin’s eyes, and what Ben saw in them now was closer to madness.

“Jacen,” he gasped, weak, pleading. “You can stop this… just stop.”

Jacen let out a guttural noise that was as much as sob as it was a growl. “If I stop now – if you don’t ascend – then all of this was for nothing, do you understand?” He lifted Ben even higher and pulled him close. “I won’t stop, Ben. I’ll never stop, not until you do what needs to be done. So stop holding back.”

Lightning arced from the Sith Lord’s fingertips and tore through him, and as he fell writhing to the floor, Ben knew with profound and terrible clarity that this would be his final lesson on the subject of pain, and that Jacen would once again be his teacher.

Chapter Text

Dying, it turned out, took forever.

The blade that had burned through Anakin Skywalker’s stomach had also burned away his ability to think in any linear, orderly way. Just as surely as his life leeched out of him, so did his concept of time; and he spent days— months— years just lying there among the debris and alien vegetation, his face tickled by long stems of grass.

Naboo, he thought, and he could feel the warm sun shining on him as Padmé called his name, as he played dead in the field. He couldn’t remember laughing as much as he did that day, pulling her down to join him in the grass, heart pounding at how close she was, and how beautiful, and wasn’t it a good thing he wasn’t really dead after all?

He’d never really laughed like that again, not during the war, not even in the safety of his wife’s embrace. He would have liked to laugh like that, one more time. To see her smile and laugh, too.

A laser blast sizzled overhead, and cerulean light sparked in the gloom. What world was this? What battle? There had been so many, all piling up, one on top of the other. It never ended; it just kept going and going, and all he’d wanted was for it to stop, but then what happened to the Hero With No Fear once the war was over? A force of nature, of destruction. Why bring balance when he was all but born for war?

What was his destiny, after all? To bring peace, or to fall? To commit every horrible crime he knew himself to be capable of? To die? His choices had all led him here, hadn’t they? Did he even have a choice anymore? Or was it all just an illusion, a predetermined path laid out long before he was born? The path of the Chosen One and his scions, forever doomed.

Anakin…

The voice was a whisper, one he knew he should recognize. Steady and patient and warm. An old voice, he thought. A tune half-remembered. Light reflecting off metal, the glint of sunset on a departing starship. He stood watching as Obi-Wan boarded that ship without him. Another battle to fight, far, far away from home. He hadn’t realized how much he needed his best friend, his brother. That was the last time he ever saw him, wasn’t it?

Anakin, listen…

Thunder roared down from the heavens, herald for the lightning splintering across the sky. The storms on Tatooine were dangerous when they did come, and he always knew not to stand out in the open. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he could feel the lightning crackling with dark, unnatural intensity, electrifying not only the air around it, but the Force itself. He remembered the first time he’d ever been struck by it, the way it jolted through his body, burning way down deep. Not just a physical assault, but a mental and spiritual one as well.

Anakin… open your eyes, old friend…

His vision was hazy as he cracked open one eye, then the other. He could make out the long, jagged tendrils of lightning arcing through the air, wrapping around—

Ben.

Anakin blinked and squinted his eyes to focus past the haze, and the blurred images before him sharpened enough to see. The lightning ripped into his grandson, dragging him down; but he kept digging in, kept trying to stand and fight back. Jacen was a few meters away, his back to Anakin as he advanced on Ben, who lay near Allana and the Embrace of Pain.

Another blast of lightning struck Ben, and still he refused to go down. His lightsaber was absorbing some of the energy, though not nearly enough, and the blade sparked with white-hot intensity under the assault. Electricity fractured around the beleaguered Jedi, and Anakin heard a single agonized scream as Ben fell to the ground, unable to rise, his lightsaber lying just beyond the reach of his fingertips.

The lightning ceased, and the cavernous throne room was eerily silent. Jacen’s footfalls were soft against the moss and grass-covered floor. He stopped in front of Ben’s outstretched hand and stood over him for several long seconds; then he swept his foot to one side and kicked the lightsaber away from Ben. It disappeared into a pile of rubble somewhere in the darkness.

Jacen reached down and took Ben’s face in his hands, and he whispered something Anakin couldn’t hear. After a moment, he stood, and he lifted Ben in the air with him, holding him close. The young Jedi’s side was drenched in blood, and he didn’t fight back against Jacen’s grip. Then the Sith let out a strangled growl and flung Ben across the room where he landed hard in a heap of durasteel and coral. Ben managed to stumble out of the wreckage, but no sooner was he out than the lightning struck again. He cried out and collapsed onto the ground, writhing in agony.

Anakin could barely feel any part of his body, and yet Ben’s pain washed over him and through him, becoming his own. Wasn’t this what he’d always feared, that one day his best wouldn’t be good enough, and that he would have to watch someone he loved die? Their fates – his and his entire family’s – written before he was born, written in the stars, even. Stars that would one day burn out, just like everything else. All of his choices meaningless in the face of his destiny…

No, he felt himself whisper from someplace deep within, a dying ember still yearning for the flame. After all, what was his destiny? His choices had all led him here, to this moment. His choices… and his love for his family, past and future.

Maybe it wasn’t one or the other, destiny or choice. Maybe his destiny was – maybe it always had been – simply a matter of choosing.

For the first time in his life, Anakin Skywalker surrendered totally and absolutely to the Force, trusting it beyond his own will and desires as he relinquished his ego and his need for control. He felt it course through him and around him, sweeping him up in its current; but instead of trembling under its might or thirsting for its power, he basked in the totality of its warmth and serenity and light – and he found himself buoyed by it, carried toward the dark maelstrom of grief and pain that whirled and raged before him.

Anakin reached out with his remaining hand and began to drag himself across the ruined throne room, into the heart of the storm.

The worst thing about dying wasn’t the pain, Ben realized. It was knowing that he would never see his family again, that he would never have a chance to say goodbye or tell them just how much he loved them.

Lightning ripped through him again, rendering his legs completely useless. He dropped to his knees before falling face first onto the floor, and when he did manage to look up, he could barely see anything through the storm of dark energy. Jacen’s face, like most of the room, was a blur of shadow illuminated only briefly by each flash of lightning. Ben stretched his right hand out across the floor, searching for his fallen lightsaber. He sensed it very faintly, but with the electricity coursing through his body he couldn’t focus enough to retrieve it.

He was going to die here. Anakin was going to die if he hadn’t already, and Allana would suffer a fate worse than death before following in her father’s footsteps.

Ben extended his will to his lightsaber, trying once again to wrap mental fingers around it. If he was about to die, he had to try… he had to do something…

Too much, he thought. Too clouded and too hot and too strong… the lightning filled his mind, burning away everything, even the most basic impulse to survive. The lightsaber slipped right through his telekinetic grip, and his hand dropped to the deck. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…

Distantly, he heard an enraged and disbelieving shout, and the violent onslaught of Force lightning ceased. Ben gasped for breath and struggled to lift his head; when he did, he saw Anakin standing with his feet planted wide, holding Jacen in a headlock. His grandfather leaned back with all his strength, lifting Jacen off of the floor. Anakin’s eyes met his and went wide.

“Now, Ben!”

He would never fully understand how he was able to stand at that moment – maybe it was the will of the Force, or maybe it was the sheer stubbornness he’d inherited from both sides of his family – but stand he did. Ben held out his hand and called his lightsaber to him as he staggered forward. The weapon connected with his palm, igniting in a flash of cerulean light.

Jacen fought frantically against their grandfather’s grip, pouring lightning through both of his captor’s arms; the electricity arced through the remains of Anakin’s prosthetic limb and snaked across his torso, but he refused to let go. As Ben ran, he raised his lightsaber over his shoulder like a dagger, aiming it for his former master’s heart.

In the seconds before he struck, Ben’s eyes met Jacen’s. There were many things he expected he might see in those dark depths: hatred or rage or fear, or maybe shock, disbelief, panic.

He wasn’t expecting relief.

Ben plunged the lightsaber into his cousin’s chest, and Jacen and Anakin gasped as the blade passed through their bodies. Jacen’s hands fell to his sides, and when Anakin finally let go, they dropped to the floor in unison.

Ben released the hilt of his lightsaber and collapsed to his knees beside the fallen men. Jacen was breathing rapidly, eyes staring straight up at the destroyed ceiling of the throne room. His lips moved, and Ben realized he was whispering.

“I tried— I tried to fix it—” His eyes found Ben’s, searching. “Tell Roan… tell Allana, I didn’t— I never meant—”

One hand rose slightly off the ground, shaking; and Ben stared at it for a moment before reaching out to grasp it in his own. An image flickered in Ben’s mind’s eye, of his cousin cradling Allana in his arms for the very first time.

Then Jacen Solo – the traitor, the fallen hero, the man who had helped save the galaxy, once upon a time – breathed his last. At the same moment, Ben heard a strange shrieking sound behind him. He turned to see the Embrace of Pain release Allana.

Ben crawled over to her and pulled her into his arms, checking her vitals. Her breathing was steady and her pulse surprisingly normal. He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. He would have given anything to spare her from the Embrace, but it was over now. It was all over.

Behind him, Anakin groaned. Ben laid Allana down gently and dragged himself back over to his grandfather’s side. The saber had entered through the center of his abdomen, leaving a charred wound in its wake, a twin for the one Jacen had inflicted earlier. Anakin looked up at Ben and smiled weakly, indicating the various wounds that riddled his body. “Luminous beings are we, Ben. Not this crude matter.”

It was then that Ben realized his eyes were damp with tears. He tried to return the smile, to let him know that everything would be okay. “I’ve got to get you to a medic,” he said with more confidence than he felt, staring at the holes in Anakin’s stomach.

“It’s too late for that.”

Ben shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes. “No, I can still save you.”

Anakin reached out with his flesh and blood hand and gripped Ben’s arm just below the elbow. “You already have.” His grandfather let out a faint laugh. “You know, I finally figured something out.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben tried to smirk in response, but it felt more like a grimace. “What’s that?”

Anakin’s words came between struggling breaths. “I always wanted to be the hero… but that’s not why the Force sent me here. I came here… to save the real hero, so that he could save everyone else.”

Ben raised one eyebrow, ignoring the rapid rise and fall of Anakin’s chest as he strained for air. “You think the Force sent you here to save me?”

Anakin gave the faintest of shrugs. “I’d say… it’s a solid theory.” His eyelids drooped for a few seconds, and he gulped down another breath. “Tell Allana… I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Ben looked away, examining the wounds again. There had to be a solution, something he hadn’t thought of. “No… no, you’re going to be fine—”

“Ben.”

He met his grandfather’s eyes and swallowed hard. “All right. I will.”

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, wincing with every shallow breath as his fingers tightened around Ben’s arm. “I wish I could have met them,” he whispered. His head rolled back, and his grip slackened. Ben looped one arm under his shoulders and pulled him close.

“Come on, Gramps, stay with me. Stay with me.” He looked around at the ruined throne room, at Jacen’s body, at Allana lying unconscious nearby. “You can’t leave me,” he whispered.

Anakin’s eyes opened ever so slightly, and he smiled up at Ben. “I’ll never… leave you.”

His eyes closed again, and he took one more breath; and as that breath left him, the last of his life went with it. Ben stared down at Anakin, waiting for the shock wave, or the black hole, or the collapse of a dying star – but there was only silence, and the body in his arms was still.

“No,” he whispered. He shook his grandfather, gently at first, then harder when there was no response. “No, no, no… please, no… come on, wake up!” He crushed Anakin to his chest, and he felt a great sob rising up in him, constricting his insides as it clawed its way into his throat. It seemed to come from someplace deep down, buried under years and years of pain and loss and now, after everything, set free.

“Please,” he choked out, rocking back and forth, still holding on. “Please.”

As if in answer, he felt something shift in his arms; when he looked down, Anakin’s body had vanished, and he was left holding an empty tunic. Every carefully constructed defense crumbled in the wake of his grief, and Ben bent his head to bury his face in the cloth, finally allowing himself to weep.

Arden wasn’t really sure what sort of diversion to expect as she stood huddled together with the group of frightened Jedi children. One hand clutched her blaster tight while the other squeezed the hand of a small girl with dark curly hair. A few paces away, two soldiers were supporting the Jedi healer Orion Tivas, and the remaining members of Beta group had taken up positions around the children. Elias and Ames stood near the entrance to the medical wing, the hum of their lightsabers filling the silence.

“Don’t worry,” Arden bent down to whisper to the little curly-haired girl. She hesitated a moment before adding, “The Force is with us. We’re going to make it.”

The girl nodded silently and tucked in closer to Arden’s side. Then there was a deafening boom and a metallic grinding sound, and the deck quaked violently beneath them. Arden was nearly thrown to her knees from the force of it; she caught the girl against her and fought to keep them both upright.

One of the soldiers stumbled forward and grabbed Elias by the shoulder. “Those are Alpha’s detonators!” she shouted above the noise, and another explosion ripped through the ship at nearly the same instant, sending everyone careening to one side of the corridor.

Elias raised a hand toward the ceiling, and it looked to Arden as if he was anchoring himself in place with an invisible tether. “Time to go!” he shouted. He deactivated his lightsaber and used his other hand to Force pull Artoo over to the terminal beside the door. The old astromech whistled a response that struck Arden as being completely unfazed – if they made it out of here alive, she would definitely have to ask Ben about the little droid’s history with combat – and went to work on the blast door.

By the time the door opened, the long hallway before them was bathed in the crimson glow of emergency lighting, and warning sirens echoed loudly off every durasteel surface. They advanced carefully at first, looking for the troopers who had pursued them earlier; but when it became clear that their enemy had abandoned the corridor, they picked up speed. Another detonation shuddered through the Eradicator, and a couple of the Rebel soldiers stopped to scoop up the youngest of the children in their arms. Arden holstered her blaster and did the same with the little girl beside her.

She caught fragments of chatter through her comlink as she ran: some unintelligible shouting, one member of Alpha group giving a countdown, and Jysella Horn ordering everyone to run for the Daybreak. Arden kept her eyes on Elias’s back as they sprinted through the Star Destroyer’s corridors. They were going to make it, they were going to make it, they had to make it…

The hangar was on fire when they reached it, a ceiling-high wall of flames separating them from the Daybreak. Arden wondered if it had been caused by the Rebel explosives, the battle outside the ship, or if this was the result of Kohr enthusiastically trying to hold off the Sith. The girl in her arms shied away from the heat of the fire, but Arden recalled her first time witnessing a Jedi in action on Heibic, and she smiled to herself.

“Watch this,” she whispered to the little girl.

The child peeked her head out from Arden’s shoulder just as Elias and Ames stepped right up to the wall of flames and spread their arms wide. The fire parted almost instantly, and Beta group rushed through the breach. Arden caught Elias’s eyes as she followed after the others; he shook his head and shot her a tired grin.

As Arden guided the little girl to the cargo hold along with the other children, she heard a muffled victory cry from the direction of the cockpit and turned to see Jysella and her team coming up the ramp.

“Elias, get us out of here!” the Jedi Knight shouted, slapping her palm against the controls that operated the ramp. The Daybreak lifted off the hangar floor seconds before the ramp sealed shut; then it turned and blasted out of the Star Destroyer.

Arden set her young charge down on the deck of the cargo hold with the other kids and touched a hand to her cheek. “I’ll be back, okay?”

The girl nodded bravely, and Arden raced to take up her gunner position. What she saw when she finally settled behind the dorsal laser cannons took her breath away.

Arden watched in absolute awe as explosions bloomed across the entire length of Eradicator’s fearsome black hull. Though the fires went out almost instantly as they met the vacuum of space, they left behind massive plumes of debris that spiraled about the dying Star Destroyer, catching several passing Sith fighters in the process.

“Something’s happening,” Elias said, in that distant way she’d started to associate more and more with his use of the Force. “Their fleet, it feels… off.”

Through the viewport, Arden saw the Mon Cal cruiser Harbinger and two dreadnaughts advance through the Sith line, cannons firing on the enemy’s failing flagship as well as the warships that had flanked it – and she thought she understood what Elias had picked up on. Those smaller Star Destroyers seemed paralyzed by the destruction of the Eradicator, and though they attempted to return fire, their attacks lacked coordination or accuracy. What had previously been an angry yet focused swarm was now a panicked, chaotic mob. Helix fighters scrambled to regroup around them, but the Rebel ships tore through them as well, creating smaller fires that vanished just as quickly as the ones still erupting from the Eradicator. They burst like stars across Arden’s vision, and that inexplicable hope from earlier burned all the brighter inside her.

Another voice came over the comm, this one strong and assured. “All groups advance,” Commander Syal Antilles ordered, and Arden could perfectly imagine the tight, satisfied half-smile on the Corellian woman’s face. “Show these bastards the Jedi aren’t the only ones favored by the Force.”

As Elias flew the Daybreak against the tide of the battle, its crew watched in amazed silence while another Star Destroyer went down, and then another. Dozens of Rebel warships poured through the holes in the blockade, and some of the enemy vessels even turned to flee. Arden had never seen anything like it; she could never have imagined such a thing was possible.

“We’re going to win,” she whispered to herself, and once again, she wondered if it was her newfound faith in the Force that made her so certain. Whatever it was, she was happy to trust it, wherever it might lead.

In all his time as Darth Krayt’s apprentice, Darth Dominius had never thought to wonder what his master’s death would feel like, or whether it would hurt him personally, or if it would shatter the preternatural coordination of their armies. How foolishly naïve it seemed now, that he’d never truly considered such things, that he’d operated under a total and unwavering belief in his master’s invincibility.

A rift tore open in his center, and Dominius felt himself suddenly untethered and cast adrift, at the mercy of a current he couldn’t hope to understand or control. The hole that Lord Krayt had filled inside him was achingly, hopelessly empty, and the gossamer strands that bound their forces as one were broken, left dangling aimlessly in the wind.

His master… his master…

Veila’s blade vanished from sight, and he tipped forward, unbalanced as his own weapon met nothing but air. She swept past him, ducking and twisting to the side, and he felt her boot connect with the back of his knee, cracking loud enough for him to hear over the sounds of the battle. As he went down, he sensed her hands moving, the hilt of her lightsaber pressed against his spine—

Fire seared through his body; he looked down to see her cerulean blade extending from the center of his torso, burning between his ribs. And all he could do at the sight of it was laugh.

Veila deactivated her lightsaber, and Dominius fell backward, breathing hard as he slumped against a mound of rubble. The Jedi walked around and crouched in front of him, calling his saber to her hand. She studied it for a few seconds, then looked up at the sky, watching as fighters screamed across the brilliant blue expanse.

“Was it worth it?” the Jedi Master asked, lowering her gaze to him once more. “All the destruction and chaos and death?”

Dominius sucked in another breath and felt it gurgle in his lungs. “What is anything worth, really? In the end, it all becomes nothing, doesn’t it?”

Veila watched him in silence for a moment, green eyes narrowed. Then she spoke again, less harsh than he would have expected from the woman who was said to be half-Yuuzhan Vong.

“Maybe,” she said. “I suppose if my life amounted to nothing in the end, I’d try to comfort myself with that notion.”

He felt another bitter laugh scrape its way from his throat. His stomach burned from the effort. “I don’t seek to comfort myself, Jedi.”

“No, because comfort is for the weak, isn’t it? Compassion, mercy, love… you’re above all of those, aren’t you? Because you’re strong. You’re so strong.” She looked down at the hilt of his lightsaber, gripped tight in the palm of her hand, and shook her head. “In the end, what did you achieve?”

He cast about for an answer, realizing in that moment that he didn’t have one. His thoughts flitted briefly to the Sith history lessons of his youth, to the tenets of the Banite order that Krayt had brushed aside. One to embody power, the other to crave it… But had he ever truly craved his master’s power? Had he ever considered doing anything but what Lord Krayt ordered him to do? Had he ever once dreamed of a time when he wouldn’t stand at his master’s side? They were going to change the galaxy, together.

Veila watched him, her expression inscrutable, though he thought he saw a flash of pity in her eyes. He hated her for that more than he hated her for anything else. He neither wanted nor needed a Jedi’s pity. He was his master’s chosen apprentice, the most trusted, the most competent, the strongest. He was—

Alone. Completely and utterly alone, and somehow that made him hate Veila and her pity even more.

He laid his head back against the rubble and looked up at the sky. What had he achieved? With Darth Krayt dead and his forces descending into chaos, what had any of it meant?

“Everything ends,” he whispered. “All things die, and become nothing.”

“Yes,” Veila replied, “all things die. All things end, but that doesn’t make them nothing. Everything that lives and dies is bound together. In the Force, everything is one.”

Dominius couldn’t help laughing at her sentimental rubbish. “What about us? The Sith and the Jedi… are we ‘one’?”

“I knew someone once who could have answered that question,” she murmured, eyes turning to the sky for a brief instant. “But he’s dead now, and neither of us will be able to ask him.”

She paused, taking a deep breath. The air around her was touched with sorrow, an echo – he was loath to admit – of what now filled the empty place inside of him.

“What was your name?” she asked softly.

Dominius, he thought to answer, an old reflex he’d drilled into himself over the years. His Sith title wasn’t just a rite of passage – it was the name of his truest self, far more real to him than the name he’d been born with. Should he answer her question? He hadn’t thought of that name in so long… but it hardly made a difference. He’d chosen his path a long time ago, and a little thing like death wouldn’t change it now.

“It doesn’t… matter,” he answered. “Not anymore.”

Veila’s eyes flitted down to the hole in his stomach. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

Silence followed, and he tried to slow the rapid pace of his breathing. He felt only a trickle of air enter his lungs with each gasp. Veila watched him, and he stared back for a moment before returning his gaze once more to the sky.

He was still afraid, had always been afraid of so many things. Pain, failure, death—

The sky was so blue. He’d never seen anything like it. So close, like he could reach out and touch it, just once…

Dominius exhaled, and was still. Tahiri regarded him for a long moment, calm settling over the ruined plaza as the whine of starfighter engines grew distant; then she reached out with one hand and gently closed her enemy’s eyes.

Valin joined her a moment later, and she could sense his eyes on her, assessing the extent of her injuries. “You need a medic.”

She turned to look at him and offered a small smile, trying not to wince. “Sure. When it’s over.”

Before Valin could respond, a pile of rubble several meters away began to quake, and a burst of energy sent debris flying into the air in all directions. Valin tensed next to her, while Tahiri’s hand twitched around the hilt of Dominius’s saber. She remained still, waiting for the violent eruption of duracrete to end.

The debris settled, and standing in silhouette against the brilliantly sunlit sky was Darth Satrus, right arm limp at his side as he staggered forward a step. His eyes found them and went wide, and Tahiri noticed he was bleeding from a head wound, and from other wounds both seen and unseen. He drew a breath that seemed to shake his entire frame as his gaze turned to his fallen comrade. Then, without a word or threat otherwise, he turned and fled.

Tahiri and Valin watched the surviving Sith Lord limp away, until he was little more than a dark blur against the battle-scarred horizon. “Well,” Valin said quietly, letting out a long breath. “I guess that means it’s over.” He paused, then turned toward her, hesitant. “Should we go after him?”

“No.” She took as deep a breath as her broken ribs would allow and hooked Dominius’s lightsaber to her belt, alongside her own weapon. “Like you said, it’s over. Let’s go get our family.”

When Darth Ferrus finally regained consciousness, his head was pounding in time to the klaxon blaring overhead. He pulled himself up on his knees and pressed a hand to his temple, as if doing so would drown out the shrill alarm or distract him from the fact that he’d been knocked unconscious for the second time in less than a week and almost definitely had a concussion. He picked his lightsaber up from where it had fallen and was tempted for half a moment to hurl the weapon as hard as he could at the opposite wall. Instead, he swallowed a growl and turned to where Festus lay, still out cold.

His brother’s face was riddled with cuts, and Ferrus felt his temper flare at the thought of the Jedi who’d torn through them so easily. The Master had ordered them to guard the tower at all costs, after nearly killing them himself. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant.

“Is anyone there?” His comlink was undamaged, and he heard Darth Varice’s strained voice through it. He almost didn’t bother replying, but old habits were hard to kick.

“This is Ferrus.”

Despite the tension in her voice, he heard Varice let out the tiniest laugh. “You’re alive.”

He thought about crushing the comlink in his hand, but he let that urge pass as well. “Of course I’m alive; don’t be a moron.”

She clicked her tongue at him.“There’s no need for name-calling, Lord Ferrus,” she said. “We have a situation.”

“Oh yeah?” He rolled his eyes and winced at the pain that one small action sent shooting through his head. “What is it now?”

Varice paused, and he heard her take a breath. “A Rebel fleet has just come out of hyperspace over Coruscant.”

That sent him snapping to attention. “What?”

“A fleet of Rebel ships,” she repeated impatiently. “Led by three Hapan Battle Dragons.”

Dammit. That was the fleet that had given the Empire so much trouble in the Inner Rim over the last decade. They were difficult to track and had collected an impressive array of warships since those Battle Dragons had split with the current Queen Mother. But they’d never pushed to the Core before, let alone made a play for Coruscant. How were the Rebels faring at Bakura, if they could afford to spare this much firepower?

“The Master isn’t responding to my comms,” Varice continued. “We have to do something.”

Next to him, Festus began to stir. “Yeah, I’ll get back to you.”

“Ferrus, wait—”

He switched off the comlink and threw it at the wall, watching with only the barest hint of satisfaction as it shattered into a dozen pieces. He growled and turned his attention to his twin. “Wake up!” he said, shaking him hard. “Wake up, idiot!”

Festus cracked both eyes open and glared up at him. “Who are you calling ‘idiot’, idiot?”

“Stand up, we’ve got more company.”

“What kind of company?”

“The kind that wants to kill us, what else?”

Festus gave a noncommittal shrug. “That’s the best kind, isn’t it? So much fun.”

“You’re pretty mouthy for someone who got thoroughly destroyed and knocked unconscious.”

His brother stood slowly, holding onto him for support until he was on two feet. Festus touched his fingers to his face, tracing over his wounds. “He went through me like I was nothing. I might as well have been fighting the Master himself.”

“He did it on purpose, you know. We should be dead.”

Festus lowered his hand from his injuries, staring off into space. “Where’s the Jedi now?”

Ferrus jerked his thumb in the direction of the turbolift. “Guess.”

Festus’s typical wicked smile returned as he glanced down the corridor, but Ferrus saw something else working behind his brother’s eyes.

“That’s just perfect,” Festus said. “Let them have each other.” He called his lightsaber to him and hooked it on his belt.

Ferrus shook his head. After everything else, now his brother was ready to walk away? “What are you saying?”

“I think you know.”

“I want to hear you say it out loud.”

Festus clicked his tongue. “So picky. Fine, brother mine, I’ll put it plainly for you: I’m saying we should get the hell out of here.”

Ferrus arched an eyebrow at him. “What about all that talk, about our orders, about following the Master’s plan, no matter what?”

Festus reached up and wrapped a hand around the back of Ferrus’s neck, pulling him close. He made a fist with his other hand and pressed it against Ferrus’s chest.

“Survival at any cost, brother,” Festus said in a quiet voice. “Or have you forgotten?”

It had been years since Ferrus had allowed himself to think of that cramped storage compartment where they’d hidden from the Sith, where his brother had pulled him close like this and promised they would survive whatever came for them. And they had survived. They’d eventually thrived, even if they’d done so in different ways. For a long time, he’d secretly marveled at the change in his twin, at how thoroughly he’d adapted to their new reality. It was sometimes hard to imagine he’d ever been anything else.

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Ferrus said, mouth suddenly dry. “I thought maybe you had.”

His twin was silent, still holding on as he stared up at him. “Come on,” Festus said after a long moment. “Let’s get out of here.”

Ferrus shoved his brother’s arm away and punched him in the shoulder. “We could take the ship we came in.”

“Like I’d trust you to fly us anywhere.”

“Then what do you propose?”

“I say we go right out the front door. See what the city has to offer.”

Ferrus crossed his arms over his chest. “I should probably mention there’s a Rebel battle group incoming, and it’s very possible that said city will be a war zone before long.”

Festus shrugged. “We’ve survived worse.” A rumble rolled through the temple – the shock from a nearby explosion. Festus tilted his head toward the sound. “Look at that; right on cue.”

Ferrus snorted and started down the corridor, then stopped when he noticed his brother hadn’t moved. Festus was looking off to one side, eyes losing focus as they rose toward the ceiling.

“What is it?” Ferrus asked. Apart from the explosion, he hadn’t sensed anything unusual.

Festus released a slow breath and shook his head. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.” He strode forward, and Ferrus fell into step beside him, grinning a little as he nudged his twin with his arm.

“You’re so damn weird.”

“Always with the flattery…”

Ben wasn’t exactly sure how he made it to the hangar. He could barely put one foot in front of the other, and yet he managed enough control of the Force to tow Jacen’s body behind him while he cradled Allana’s still-unconscious form in his arms. Klaxons rang as he passed through the wide hangar entrance, their shrill wail interrupted by the whine of starfighter engines and the distinct percussive impact of detonating bombs. Ben would have allowed himself to be pleased that the Rebel battle group had arrived, if he wasn’t currently standing inside their primary target.

None of the Sith had attempted to prevent his ascent to the top of the tower – Jacen’s orders, he assumed – and now with the death of their master and the arrival of the Rebels, it appeared that they’d all but deserted their fortress. Ben’s X-wing was sitting unharmed where he had left it, though that was only a small comfort. He could probably fit Allana into the cockpit with him, but he would have to leave Jacen behind. He would do it, of course; he wasn’t foolish enough to risk their lives over a corpse…

His eyes landed on a larger shuttle, an old Lambda, its ramp open and waiting, and Ben took a deep breath and trudged toward it. Syal would probably kill him for leaving the X-wing behind, but even though he had every reason to abandon Jacen’s body, the truth was that he just didn’t want to.

Once he was on board the shuttle, Ben laid Allana and Jacen down on opposite sides of the hold and closed the ramp, then made his way to the front of the ship. Bombs continued to rain down around the temple, but the whine of helix engines was increasingly faint. From what he could sense, the Sith had been thrown into a panic upon Jacen’s death. Ben wondered if they even realized how deeply entrenched their master’s battle meditation was. As the Imperial fleet had once crumbled at Endor in the wake of the Emperor’s demise, now it seemed the One Sith were poised for a similar fall.

The shuttle’s engines sputtered and hummed as they came online, and Ben took a minute to examine the wounds in his side. They still looked pretty gruesome, and he closed his eyes, calling upon the Force’s healing energy to permeate the wounds, stemming further loss of blood until he could attend to them properly. After a few seconds, he felt a shudder, and the engines roared fully to life. He took the controls in his hands and guided the shuttle out of the hangar, narrowly avoiding a couple of X-wings as they circled the temple.

The complex around the Sith fortress was ablaze, smoke billowing from it in massive plumes, and only a few enemy fighters remained in the sky. Ben wondered if the others had been destroyed or if they, too, had abandoned the temple. The rest of the city appeared largely untouched by the chaos, and though he sensed a sober, apprehensive air had fallen over the planet, there was a glimmer of cautious hope beneath it all.

Ben transmitted his security clearance to the Rebel fighters sweeping past him, and within minutes they had patched him through to the man in charge of the entire battle group.

“Ben Skywalker,” the voice on the comm said with a low chuckle. “Commander Antilles said to expect you.”

Ben breathed a shaky sigh of relief. “Admiral Darklighter,” he replied, his own voice not quite so steady. “Thanks for not blowing me up.”

“Well, I figured you’d probably had enough of that from the Sith…” There was a pause, and when the admiral spoke again there was a note of concern in his voice. “Son, if you require medical attention, Resilient is standing by…”

Ben winced and looked back at Allana before leaning forward to search his scope for the medical frigate’s location among the cluster of Rebel ships that had entered the system. “Thank you, sir; I think I’ll take you up on that.”

“Anything else I can do for you?”

His thoughts turned to the other Jedi, and the battle that might still be raging on Bakura. He tried to reach for Tahiri through the Force, eager to have her survival confirmed; but she was so far away, and he was tired, and though the Force might not have had limits, he still did.

“Could you relay me to Tahiri Veila at Bakura?” he said after a beat.

“That I can. Stand by.”

The comm went silent, and Ben waited for several minutes. Finally, the comm crackled, and he heard a muffled, staticky voice speaking indecipherably. Ben’s relief hit him harder than he could have anticipated as he recognized his friend’s voice.

“Ben?” she said as the static cleared, and he could tell she was just as relieved as he was.

Ben sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth, fighting back a swell of emotion. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m here. It’s over, Tahiri. It’s all over.”

She didn’t answer at first, and he imagined he could feel the weight of that revelation sinking into her. “Thank the Force,” she said at last, softly.

Ben shifted forward in his seat. “The battle?” he asked.

“Coming to an end.” She hesitated, a long pause that spoke more to her concern than any words she might have said. “Is Allana okay?”

Ben glanced over his shoulder at his cousin’s unconscious form. “She’s okay for now.”

There was another pause, longer than before. “Anakin?”

The words stuck in his throat for a few seconds before he was able to force them out. “He’s gone. Him and Jacen.”

Tahiri’s exhale crackled over the comm. “I see. I’d thought as much.”

Ben looked out at the medical frigate looming ever larger in his viewport. He switched the shuttle’s controls over to autopilot and sat back in his seat, and as he did, his eyes were drawn to the body of his former master lying on the deck behind him. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he exhaled loudly.

“What is it?”

Ben shook his head, unable to take his eyes off of Jacen’s body. “I thought I would feel… relieved. I thought a burden would lift, or something.”

“What do you feel?”

Ben closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Tired.” Deep down in the bones, like he would never fully recover. For so many years they’d been on the run from the Sith, and now he wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest.

Behind him, Allana stirred, and Ben felt a pang in his gut. He turned back to the comm. “Allana’s waking up. I’d better go. I’ll comm soon with an update.”

“Sounds good. May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you.”

Ben gritted his teeth against the pain from his injuries as he crossed the hold and kneeled next to Allana. He placed a hand on her forehead, and she turned into his touch. “Easy there, that’s it.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared up at him for several long seconds. “I felt you there,” she whispered.

Ben bit back tears as he cupped her face with one hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” Her chin trembled as she spoke. “I just thought— I wanted to—” She stifled a sob and closed her eyes, and he watched tears slip from beneath her lashes.

“Hey, hey,” he said gently, brushing a finger across both of her cheeks. “It wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault.” He imagined the look Tahiri would have given him if she were here. Maybe some of her wisdom had rubbed off on him after all. The guilt he’d carried for so long seemed more distant now, and he wondered if he might finally be ready to let it go. He hoped he could help Allana reach that same point one day.

She sniffled and raised a hand to wipe away the rest of her tears, and as she glanced around the ship, a shadow crossed her face. “Where’s Anakin? I felt him, too—” From the sharp intake of breath that punctuated that thought, it seemed she already knew. Her grief swelled, and Ben bowed his head, averting his gaze. That loss was still too raw.

When he looked back up a moment later, he saw Allana staring across the cargo hold where Anakin’s clothes were draped like a shroud over Jacen’s body. Ben felt the confused clash of emotion inside her, feelings of betrayal, sorrow, and – in spite of everything – love. They were tangled and twisted up in a painful knot, one that she would need time to sort out. Even then, it might never make sense to her.

Allana finally tore her eyes away from her father’s body. “Ben?”

He tried to smile, but it was weak, and he was tired. “Yeah?”

The expression on her face told him it was important. “There’s somewhere we need to go.”

Tahiri leaned forward in her chair, one hand reaching out across the bed to grasp the hand of the man lying in it. His breath fogged the mask covering the lower half of his face, and the array of monitors on the opposite side of the bed indicated that he was stable, a fact which was supported by her own sense of him. Still, it couldn’t hurt to add a little Jedi healing to the mix, and she gave of her own energy to boost what the medics had already done for him. Medical droids and staff came and went while she kept watch; the last nurse to leave had reassured her that Ulin would likely wake soon, adding that he was lucky to have such a devoted companion.

Tahiri smiled to herself as the nurse closed the door behind him. It was a good thing no one else was around to hear that comment, especially Ben; she’d never have heard the end of it otherwise.

She took a deep breath, as deep as she could manage with her fractured ribs. She’d already received some pain meds – she could handle the pain but knew better than to take on an unnecessary burden – and a bacta treatment before coming to check on Ulin; and she fully intended to pay a visit to Tekli on the Errant Venture as soon as she was finished with the post-battle clean-up, including debriefing Orion and settling all of the displaced Jedi children.

The blockade of Bakura had ended swiftly once the Sith line broke with the destruction of the flagship Eradicator, and nearly a third of the enemy’s fleet had fled outright after the Warhammer and the Wyyrlok met the same fate. They received reports in the aftermath that some of those fleeing ships had attempted to return to Coruscant, only to be met by Admiral Darklighter’s fleet, which had just finished bombarding the Sith Temple complex. The admiral had confirmed for the Rebels what Tahiri already knew to be true – that Darth Krayt, the Master of the One Sith, had perished during the battle. Jacen’s battle meditation must have been unfathomably powerful, to cause such utter chaos in the wake of its loss. Without that linchpin holding their forces together, the Empire was vulnerable in a way that would have been unthinkable before.

Ulin stirred, and Tahiri squeezed his hand and scooted closer to the bed. She felt him squeeze her hand in return, and looked up to see a faint grin on his face. Eyes still closed, he tilted his head toward her.

“Am I dead?” he asked, his voice muffled by the mask.

Tahiri shook her head and raised one eyebrow. “You’re not getting ready to tell me that you must be dead because there’s some kind of celestial being holding your hand right now, are you?”

“Naw, I know you hate lines like that.” He laughed under his breath and opened his eyes to look at her. “Do I get credit for following your orders, at least?”

“Orders?” She gave him a bemused smile, wondering what in the worlds he meant.

“Yeah, you told me I’d better not die while you were gone.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Mission accomplished.”

It wasn’t often that Tahiri was caught off guard by her emotions, but she suddenly felt a swell of laughter bubble up in her, and she made no effort whatsoever to suppress it. And even though her ribs probably wouldn’t thank her for it later, it felt so good to laugh, to really laugh. How many years had it been since she’d felt free enough to do so?

The door to the medbay slid open, and a familiar face peeked around the doorframe. “How’s the patient?” Myri Antilles asked brightly, eyes twinkling as she stepped into the room and looked from Tahiri to Ulin, grinning all the while. “What’s so funny?”

Ulin met Tahiri’s eyes and smiled behind the mask. “I’m not dead.”

Myri clapped her hands together, then spread them wide on either side of her. “That’s great! Does this mean you’re up for sabacc? I’m trying to put a game together—”

“Myri,” a voice called from the doorway, and Tahiri looked past Myri to see Syal standing there shaking her head. “You think you could let the man convalesce a little before you start wrangling him into playing cards with you?”

“Aw, it’s fine, Syal, I’m okay.” Ulin pulled the mask off and inhaled deep, then turned to Myri. “Who else have you got?”

Myri tapped a finger to her chin. “Right now just you and me, but I was going to look for Elias and Arden next, and maybe find some of the fighter pilots, they’re always fun—”

“I wouldn’t count on Elias or Arden right now,” Tahiri interrupted, aiming a small smirk at her friend. “Pretty sure they’ve become unofficial den mothers to those kids they rescued. I’m not sure you could pry them away.”

Myri perked up at that. “Kids? How many kids? Enough for sabacc?”

Syal dropped her face into her hand and groaned. “Oh my gods, Myri.”

“Come on, sis, you’re never too young to learn sabacc.”

“Pretty sure that’s not true.”

As the Antilles sisters argued over the educational merits of high-stakes card games, Ulin leaned toward Tahiri and said in a quiet voice, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Tahiri glanced down and realized that their hands were still entwined. She quirked one corner of her mouth up and shrugged. “Did you ever doubt that I would be?”

“Nope. Not for a single second.”

“Ulin!” Myri cut in with a shout. “I’m going to go turn these kids into pros, you’d better be ready when I come back.” She stepped over to the bed and bent down to give Ulin a quick kiss on the cheek. “Rest up, old man. You’ve earned it.”

Ulin reached up and ran a hand through his short gray hair, and he frowned a little as Myri and Syal left the room. “Do you guys really think I’m that old?”

Tahiri studied him for a moment and smiled. “No,” she said warmly. “I think you’ve got plenty of life left to live, Master Slicer.”

“That’s really good to hear, Master Jedi, because I was planning to do just that.” He squeezed her hand, longer this time. Funny, how natural and welcome that one small action had become. “So,” he said in a casual tone, “what’s next for you?”

“Well, after we finish up here, I was planning to head back to Zonama Sekot for a few days. I promised a couple of boys that I would be back soon.” Tahiri met his gaze and breathed in deep, and she hardly noticed the ache. “I could use a ride. Know anyone with a dependable ship?”

Ulin grinned even wider at that. “Yeah, I think I might know a guy.”

The stolen Lambda shuttle set down on the moon’s surface just as night was falling. In the dying light, Ben walked down the open ramp and surveyed the ancient forest around him. It smelled of earth and leaves and new growth, and save for the gentle chirping of nocturnal insects, the night air was quiet. Ben leaned his head back as a faint breeze ruffled his hair. Apart from that small gust of wind, it seemed the forest moon of Endor was calm and at peace.

He looked over his shoulder to see Allana standing at the top of the ramp. After they had both been patched up on the Resilient, she had insisted on coming here, to this moon, before heading to Bakura. She said this was the only place their dead could be put to rest.

“Are you ready?” she asked, holding onto the bulkhead for support.

Ben strode up the ramp and gathered Jacen’s body and Anakin’s empty clothes in his arms. “Yeah.”

After a short walk through the forest, they reached a very small clearing. Ben looked it over before setting Jacen down. “This’ll do,” he said, examining the open patch of grass as he circled it.

Allana nodded. “I’ll get some wood.”

Ben eyed the bacta patches visible on her wrists and thought of all the others that had been applied. “Are you okay to do that by yourself?”

“I can manage,” she reassured him gently. “I’m not the one with a hole in my side.”

“Details,” he said with a shrug.

Once she had disappeared from view, Ben began to strip Jacen of his clothing. Piece-by-piece the black uniform came off, until all that was left was a man, naked for the universe to see and judge. His body was riddled with scars, testament to the hard life he’d lived both before and after his fall from grace. Ben was tempted to think about how things might have been different if Jacen hadn’t gone down the dark path; but such thoughts were insidious, holding him captive to the past. He tried not to dwell on them, focusing instead on dressing his cousin in the clothing of their grandfather.

They weren’t actually Anakin’s clothes; those had been ruined or just plain left behind. Still, it seemed important that he dress Jacen in something connected to the light. And since he couldn’t give Anakin a proper funeral pyre, this was about as close as he could come.

Once the clothes had been exchanged, Ben sat back and studied Jacen’s face, breathing slowly, in and out. It was still true, what he’d said to Tahiri. Killing Jacen hadn’t brought him any satisfaction or relief, and he had the feeling his cousin’s mournful last words would forever haunt him. Could he have done more to save him?

He reached out and ran his fingertips over Jacen’s brow. In the end, he had done what his old master taught him. He had made a choice, and now he had to live with it.

Allana returned not long after, and they went to work building the pyre. They were silent, although for the first time in a long time Ben felt as though they were operating in unison. The bond that had been strained by resentment and secrets was already beginning to mend.

When they had finished, Ben and Allana stood side-by-side, staring at the mound of branches and earth.

“Are you ready?” Ben asked.

Allana shook her head. “No.”

“That’s okay. We can wait awhile.”

Allana blew out a shaky breath. “How can I say goodbye? How can I let him go when I still don’t have answers? When we never got a chance—” She cut herself off and inhaled slowly, tears filling her eyes.

Ben placed a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe one day you’ll get that chance.”

“Would you want to talk to him again if you could?”

He considered the question for a moment. His first thought was to say no. After all, what could he say that he hadn’t already said?

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “Maybe.”

“What would you say?”

He had spent countless nights imagining Jacen’s death and how their last conversation would play out. He still wasn’t sure what had changed. Jacen had tortured him and taken his family from him, and that still hurt to think about. But the anger, the bitterness – those had evaporated like water under Tatooine’s twin suns.

“I guess… that I forgive him. Maybe not for everything, but for what he did to me. What he took from me. I think… I think maybe I can forgive him for that.”

She nodded, but remained silent. They stood still together, listening to the sounds of the forest as the night stretched on. Ben turned to Allana, suddenly curious. “Why did you want to come here, of all places?”

She shrugged a little too nonchalantly. “It was close to Bakura.”

Ben nudged her shoulder gently with his. “The real reason.”

She sighed. “Because of Anakin. Because of his sacrifice. It seemed fitting, I guess.”

“Fitting?”

Allana nodded and looked up at him. “That we should remember him with a hero’s funeral like your father did.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Allana—”

“I know, Ben. I know who he was.” She looked away and stared off into the distance. “If I’m honest with myself, I think I’ve known all along.”

Ben smiled a little to himself and looked down at the forest floor. “He wasn’t what I’d imagined he’d be.”

“Really?” Allana looked over at him, her expression thoughtful. A small, private sort of smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “He was exactly what I imagined.”

Ben reached one arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. “I love you,” he whispered.

Her arms circled his waist, and she hugged him tight. “I love you, too.”

Finally, the time came. Ben carried Jacen’s body to the funeral pyre and laid him atop it gently, arranging his hands so that they were clasped together over his abdomen. He lit a flame and cast it upon the kindling, and soon the fire burned hot and strong, engulfing the pyre and the man within.

Allana took a step away toward the flames, and Ben felt her anguish as clearly as if it were his own. She sank slowly to her knees, hands pressed to her mouth to muffle her sobs. A knot had begun to form in Ben’s chest as he watched the fire consume what was left of both Jacen and Anakin, and Allana’s tears tightened that knot further and further until he could hardly breathe.

He knelt down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. They fell against each other, weeping for all they’d lost. As the flames rose higher, Ben pulled away from Allana and dabbed absently at her tears.

“I miss them both,” she said. “Is that wrong? After everything he did?”

“No,” Ben whispered as his gaze wandered to the blazing pyre. “It’s not wrong. You loved him.”

“But—”

“Before all of this, he was a hero. A true hero who saved so many people. Who loved you.” Ben looked down at Allana and cupped her face in one hand, and he smiled. “That’s the man I choose to honor.”

She didn’t say anything more, and Ben held her close as they watched the fire burn on.

Allana Djo stood at the edge of the clearing as morning began to break, its pale light just barely touching the tops of the ancient trees around her. The air was cool, and a hush had fallen over the forest as nighttime creatures settled down to slumber and their daytime counterparts started to wake. The fire had finally gone cold, its contents reduced to ashes. She’d asked Ben to give her a minute alone with them before they left, but now that she was here, she wasn’t sure what to say. She kept her eyes on the base of the pyre, unable to look at the remains.

She felt a prickly sensation in her arms, a stray impulse traveling along her nerves, and she looked down at the bacta patches peeking out from under her sleeves. Allana brought both arms to her chest, the fingers of her right hand lightly circling her left wrist as they brushed against the patch. There were similar bandages on the insides of her elbows and along her forearms, hidden by her clothing. Ben said the bacta should help prevent scarring, especially since she hadn’t been in the Embrace for long. But he’d admitted that he wasn’t entirely sure, and that he still bore scars from his own time as its prisoner.

Right now she didn’t really care one way or the other if she was left with a few scars. Their presence or absence wouldn’t change anything that had happened, and they would never be as painful as that last moment before passing out, when she’d looked into her father’s eyes and realized that there was no safety in him, and that the strength and love she’d longed for all her life had been used against her in the most treacherous, vile way. And even the pain of that moment paled next to the knowledge that in the deepest places of her heart, she still loved him as much as she ever had, and probably always would love him. How was that fair, that she had to live with everything she felt and everything he’d done, while he was just… gone?

Allana lowered her arms and sat down in the mossy undergrowth, placing her hands palm-up in her lap. She still couldn’t quite look at the pyre, so she picked out a patch of clover in front of her and took a deep breath.

“I’m not sure if I can forgive you,” she said, hesitantly. “Part of me wants to, but part of me doesn’t, and I don’t know why I should have to feel that way. I don’t know why you couldn’t just… why you couldn’t…”

Gods, more tears. As if she hadn’t already cried enough these last couple days. She wiped her eyes and tried to steady herself.

“I wish I could have known you before. I didn’t need you to be a hero or a great Jedi or anything like that. All I ever wanted was my father. That would have been enough. I wish…” She took a deep breath that shook her. “…I wish I could have helped you. Somehow.”

She twisted her fingers together for a moment, then forced them apart again. “I’ll take care of Roan,” she continued. “You don’t have to worry about that. He’ll have friends and a family, and he’ll be safe and loved.”

Allana leaned her head back and looked up at the treetops and the warm rays of sunlight filtering through them. “I guess that’s it,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Goodbye, Daddy.”

She rose, then, and brushed damp leaves and grass from her clothes, still not looking directly at the pyre. It didn’t seem like enough, and yet it was the only thing that had felt right. No one else would have wanted to honor her father in this way, and no one else would ever understand the full truth about her great-grandfather and what he’d done for them.

Her great-grandfather. It was still a little hard to believe, even though she did believe it, and even though she still wasn’t sure exactly how or when she’d realized it. Had it been as early as their first meeting, when she’d sensed the warmth he’d tried to hide from her, a feeling adjacent to the love she’d always sensed from her mother? Or had it been over Vjun, when he’d reached out to her in his desperation, his blood calling out to hers? Maybe it had been on Zihrent, when they sat together and watched the sunrise, and she felt as though the whole universe spun around them and held its breath.

Or had it been in those seconds before waking in Ben’s arms, when she heard a voice whisper her name – only her name – and she knew, she knew, exactly who he was, in a way that somehow went beyond knowing?

Allana tilted her head back again, this time looking past the treetops to the pale blue sky, imagining the countless stars that burned brightly beyond it.

“Goodbye, Anakin,” she whispered. “Thanks for everything.”

Chapter Text

Here in the void, he floats.

It’s a strange sensation, strung up by nothing, caught somewhere between dreams and reality, death and life, cradled by a darkness that waits not to strike, but to envelope and protect. A cocoon for the soul, and he wonders what he’ll be when he emerges.

“He’s so young.”

The voice is soft, a tender sound echoing in ears that have gone too long without hearing, and it seems to drift into the void from some distant, ancient place.

“Yes,” another voice – this one slightly deeper – replies.

“I almost don’t want to wake him,” the first voice says.

“But we must. His destiny is not yet fulfilled.”

His eyes open, and they are filled with pure white light, blinding in its intensity. He lifts a hand to shield his eyes as he searches for the source of the overwhelming radiance before him. There are two individuals floating with him in the void, hovering just beyond his reach. They are the source of the light, and as he takes in their beautiful faces, he’s filled with so much joy that it hurts.

“It’s you,” he whispers.

They smile at each other before gazing down at him.

“Hello, Father,” Leia says.

Luke’s eyes are warmth itself. “It’s good to see you again.”

A kernel of doubt remains, despite the delirious happiness of this moment. “But how? I mean, I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“It’s a bit complicated,” Luke says. “You see, you already died once in our universe.”

“And it seems our netherworld can’t accept more than one Anakin Skywalker,” Leia finishes.

Anakin shakes his head, turning to glance around the endless expanse. “Your universe? I don’t understand. Where am I?”

Luke looks around at the void. “A gap between our universe and yours – a plane beyond the physical, where the Force joins all together.”

Sorrow grips him as he recalls the searing blade that passed through his body, and Jacen’s. “This is the place, isn’t it? The place he wanted to reach?”

His own sorrow pales next to what he senses from his children. “Yes,” Leia whispers. She breathes in deep – he wonders if she’s actually breathing, or if it’s simply the memory of that reflex – and shakes her head. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work the way he expected.”

He wishes he could feel relief at that revelation, that there was never any chance of Jacen’s plan succeeding, that his choice to stand against his own grandchild was the right one. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

His daughter smiles at him, a sad smile, but one that holds more than a little hope as well. “You still can,” she says.

His pulse quickens at her words. “How? How can I do that now?”

The twins share a knowing look, and his son answers. “You’re being sent home, to your world.”

He lifts his hands without thinking, absently running his fingers over his abdomen, right where the lightsabers had burned through him. “Then I’m not dead?”

Luke shakes his head, and Anakin wonders if he’s imagining the faint spark of mischief in his eyes. “No, you’re not dead. Not yet.”

“And you’re sending me back?”

“Not us,” Luke says. “This is the will of the Force. For you to return to your world, to your time, and bring balance.”

It’s… it’s more than he’d had any right to hope for, and he sinks to his knees before them. He finds he can’t even look at them. So pure… so good. He bows his head and covers his eyes, unworthy to be in their presence. “I’m so sorry, for everything. I don’t deserve this. Seeing you… it’s what I wanted, but I don’t deserve it.”

He feels someone removing his hands from his face and sees Luke kneeling before him. “You’ve got a second chance, Father. Things don’t have to be the way they were in our world. You can still choose.”

Leia joins Luke, resting a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You have all the strength you need to defeat him. Just remember who you’re fighting for.” Her fingers brush against his face. “And let go of your shame.”

He closes his eyes and basks in the warmth of their presence, the softness of their touch, his face damp with tears. The air grows heavy around them, as if bending under a great burden. His children stand.

Luke’s voice is gentle but firm. “It’s time, Father.” The void begins to fill with sounds and images and sensations, past and future colliding, all spun together in a tangled, confusing web. For a second he wants to shut it all out, but then Leia reaches out to him.

“Take my hand.”

He gazes up at Leia, and at Luke, before allowing his eyes to rest on the hand offered to him.

Destiny is simply a matter of choosing. It always has been.

He reaches for his daughter, and she pulls him up through the void, rushing toward the chaos, toward the crossroads.

Toward his destiny.

Anakin awoke with a start, his cheek pressed against a cool and unyielding surface. The boundless white of the void had been replaced with smooth walls and curved archways, all in rich, soothing earth tones, and all of it suffused with a warm, lambent glow. He tilted his head back, taking in the sight of the corridor before him and the open doorway behind him. This was no Sith throne room. He was lying outside the council chamber in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

Home.

He was home.

Anakin began to lift himself up, startled to discover that his artificial arm was intact, as if nothing had happened to it. He flexed that hand in front of his face, staring at the familiar leather glove that covered it. Next, he noticed his sleeves – they belonged to the same dark brown tunic he’d always favored, loose and practical and comfortable. From there, his gaze wandered down to his abdomen, and he took in a sharp breath as the memory of his wounds seared through his gut for an instant, a phantom of the blades that had pierced him. But had any of it truly happened, or were those memories simply products of an agitated psyche, things his own mind had conjured up in a dream?

As he rose slowly to his feet, Anakin sensed something at the edge of his awareness, a disturbance in the Force that was growing more urgent and insistent by the second. He turned back toward the open doorway, his gaze caught by the last rays of sunlight setting through the windows of the council chamber. By instinct more so than choice, he found his eyes drawn toward the Senate building, to the place where he knew the Chancellor’s office to be. He found his lightsaber – his own, this time – at his hip, relief and a sobering sense of purpose washing over him as his fingers brushed against the hilt.

Maybe it didn’t matter if his time in that world was real. What he had learned there was.

And so Anakin turned away from the council chamber and the setting sun and the foolish choice he had made once upon a time, and he ran to the closest hangar, because it was up to him to save the future.

The window shattered, shards of transparisteel whipping about in a frenzy as the wind howled and tore at the ledge; and for one moment, Darth Sidious thought to imagine it as the very howling of the Force itself, an echo of the triumph he concealed even as his lightsaber flew from his grasp and he stumbled backward to escape the lethal edge of Mace Windu’s amethyst blade. The Jedi Master was a fierce opponent, and far cannier than most of his brethren, and Sidious felt a thrill race through him at the apparent danger he found himself in.

There had been an instant – not even half a second – during the battle when the Force had seemed to surge against him, bucking at the web of control he’d weaved around this world and its people, tugging at the snares he’d set across the galaxy; and in that single instant, he had felt strangely and inexplicably vulnerable, as though he were caught in the midst of a bright and unending void. A world without shadow.

That instant ended before it had barely begun, and he had relished in the power that rose to meet him, that buoyed him in the face of the storm that was Mace Windu. The Jedi Master was strong, yes, but Sidious was stronger still. The darkness wasn’t simply a side to be chosen – it was everything. It was the heat of matter colliding in an endless cycle of creation and destruction, it was stars burning into existence, incredible and dreadful and doomed, and it was the cold dark of space, the still and eternal night that bound the universe together. The Force that the Jedi knew and followed was hardly more than a shade, and for their arrogance in believing it to be more than that, Sidious would gladly destroy them all.

How he had longed for this day, this great and glorious day. How he had yearned to face the Jedi in combat just once, in a magnificent battle that would cement his rule and unify the galaxy under the might of the Sith. He had been patient and careful and unwaveringly dedicated to the tenets of his ancient order. This day would finally see his patience rewarded. This day would see the end of the Jedi.

Master Windu leveled his blade at Sidious. “The oppression of the Sith will never return. You have lost, my lord.”

A presence flickered across Sidious’s awareness as he braced himself against the open ledge: a supernova that flashed and burned in the Force too brightly to be contained, and he knew that young Anakin Skywalker would be here soon, perhaps within minutes. That would be a victory every bit as sweet as the death of the Jedi themselves – the final and irreversible corruption of their chosen savior.

“No,” he replied with a smile, making no attempt to contain his dark glee. “No, no – you have lost!”

He unleashed a torrent of lightning from his fingertips, exulting in the pain as it deflected off the Jedi’s lightsaber and arced back at him, tearing away the mask of Palpatine that he had long presented to the galaxy. The lightning he commanded was fueled by a bottomless well of hatred and loathing, more powerful than Mace Windu’s feeble attempts to repel him, and he called upon every drop of that power. His attack began to overwhelm the Jedi Master’s weapon, crackling along its length and hissing as it crawled up the man’s arms. He could see the Jedi weakening with each passing second, unable to absorb or deflect so much energy and bending dangerously under the pressure.

Mace Windu went down on one knee, defiant even while lightning licked at his body and his face, and Darth Sidious smiled again and ceased his attack, because the time had finally come, and he still had one last role to play.

Anakin burst into the Chancellor’s office and found Palpatine and Master Windu at the edge of the shattered window. The Chancellor was on the ground, smoke rising from his body as he clung to the ledge, one hand outstretched toward his opponent to ward him off. “Please,” Palpatine begged. “Please, don’t kill me.”

Master Windu struggled to his feet, and Anakin noticed wisps of smoke coming off his clothes as well. The Jedi Master angled his lightsaber toward Palpatine and eyed the Sith Lord warily. He turned his head as Anakin approached, and the look of surprise on his face was followed quickly by relief. “Skywalker. Help me—”

But Palpatine shook his head and looked up at Anakin with desperate eyes. “The Jedi have taken over, Anakin. Didn’t I tell you it would come to this? Help me, my boy. Save me.”

Anakin stared down at the Chancellor, at the Sith Lord who had deceived him and the entire galaxy, at the man who would see himself as Emperor over all, with his chosen puppet by his side. A familiar rage kindled in his heart, but he could see it now for what it was: an emotion like any other, one that he didn’t need to fear, just as he didn’t need to fear the darkness inside him, so long as he kept his gaze fixed on the light.

“Never,” he said, igniting his saber and stepping to Master Windu’s side. It was with deep satisfaction that he watched pure shock register on Palpatine’s face. “You can take your dark side and go to hell, because I won’t join you, and I won’t save you either.”

Palpatine’s eyes went wide, and his visage darkened, caught somewhere between disbelief and unadulterated rage. “Young fool,” he growled. “Only I have the power to save your wife. If you kill me, she will die.”

All things die, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out.

Yes, he replied to that insidious whisper, recognizing it, too, for what it was – a truth and a lie he had told himself over and over again, so wrapped up in all the things that he might lose that he’d never considered everything he had to gain. He thought of Ben and Allana, and Davin and Dolan, and all the people he’d fought alongside in that distant future. And he thought of Padmé and Obi-Wan, and Luke and Leia.

All things die. Everyone I love will die one day.

But they won’t die because of me.

Anakin gripped his lightsaber in both hands and took a step forward. “You’re right,” he said with a grim nod. “She will, someday. But you won’t be there to see it.”

Palpatine’s hands flew up, and Anakin snapped his blade up to deflect the wild rush of lightning that poured from them. Master Windu’s lightsaber flashed as he brought his weapon to bear, taking as much of the attack as he could. Anakin gritted his teeth against the onslaught and moved forward; with each step he took, the lightning intensified, snaking around his lightsaber and traveling through his body.

Finally, he stood over Palpatine, and the Dark Lord of the Sith stared up at him with fear and fire in his eyes. As Anakin centered the cerulean blade of his saber over the would-be Emperor’s heart, Palpatine made one last effort to sway him.

“I will make you the most powerful being who has ever lived! You can still save her. No life will be beyond your control!”

Anakin breathed in deep, ignoring the continued burn of the lightning, and he couldn’t help the wry grin that tugged at his mouth. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

He drove his lightsaber through Palpatine’s chest, and the Sith Lord screamed with rage before perishing in an explosion of dark energy. That energy pulsed violently outward, throwing Anakin out the window, and even as he reached for something to grab hold of, he wondered if this would be his end.

If it was, he decided it was worth it.

A hand closed around his wrist, and the sudden change in momentum slammed him against the side of the building. He looked up into Mace Windu’s dark eyes – eyes that were full of an emotion he’d never seen the Jedi Master direct at him: gratitude.

“You did it,” Master Windu said as the night air whipped around them both. “You defeated the Sith.”

Anakin winced. “No disrespect, Master, but can you pull me up first?”

Master Windu heaved him up onto the window sill, and the two of them lay there for a time, unable to move, gulping in as much air as they could. Anakin closed his eyes and reached out through the Force to find the two people he loved most in this world. Padmé’s presence was anxious but strong. He could feel the faintest hint of consciousness in her womb, and he nearly wept knowing his children were alive and that he would get the chance to meet them.

Once he had soaked in that reality, he stretched out further, homing in on the part of him that was in Obi-Wan even when they were light years apart. His former master was indeed far away, finishing his mission on Utapau most likely. He wanted to tell him everything that had happened, even if some of it wasn’t real, even if it was only a dream. Maybe, when he returned…

His head throbbed, and his vision started to go white.

The last thing he heard was Master Windu calling his name.

“Anakin…”

He heard the voice through a fog of pain and fatigue, calling to him in soft tones he would have recognized anywhere. He tried to mumble a response, but he wasn’t sure if it made it past his lips.

“Anakin!”

He cracked one eye open as a pair of warm hands touched his face. “Padmé?”

She smiled wide, and in her eyes he saw such unguarded love that it left him speechless. Her arms were wrapped around him, supporting him, her pregnant belly pressed against his side. He wondered for a moment if this was a dream, too.

He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes again until he felt Padmé’s lips against his, trying to rouse him. He responded to her kiss with more than enough energy to reassure her he was alive. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and when he looked up at her, he saw that her eyes held the beginning traces of tears.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, laughing a little as she ran one hand along the side of his face.

Anakin smiled up at her and raised a weak hand to mimic her gesture. “I am now.”

He noticed movement behind her, and she turned to follow his gaze. “Master Windu commed me and told me what happened,” she said. “I came as fast as I could.”

Anakin stared at Mace in disbelief. “How did you know?”

The Jedi Master fixed him with the sort of long-suffering look that he usually reserved for unruly Padawans; it was a look that Anakin was well-acquainted with. “I may not have known you were married, Skywalker, but I’ve known for years how fond you are of Senator Amidala.” Master Windu glanced away from them and raised both eyebrows. “I just didn’t realize it was that kind of fondness.”

Padmé straightened up and shifted her body toward his in a protective stance. “You’re not going to expel him from the Order, are you? Not after what he’s done?”

For a few seconds, Master Windu looked like nothing so much as an exhausted old man. “Let’s not worry about that right now.”

Before he could say more, a whole swarm of people entered the office, including two Jedi Anakin recognized as healers. Behind them he saw HoloNet reporters, Senate guards, and Force knew who else. He smiled weakly at Padmé. “I guess our secret’s out now.”

He was glad, though. No more secrets. No more lies. No more places the darkness could hide and fester inside him. A burden lifted off him in that moment, and as he looked up at his wife, he realized he had finally found some small measure of peace. He could accept whatever decision the Council made because it wouldn’t change who he was inside.

He was a Jedi Knight, and he would be one until he drew his last breath.

The weeks after Chancellor Palpatine’s death were tumultuous and difficult for the Republic and the Jedi Order. It wasn’t every day that the leader of the galaxy was assassinated by his own trusted ally. Testimony had to be given, evidence gathered. A war was still being fought, although that conflict was thankfully coming to a close. For a time, it seemed public opinion might turn against all the Jedi, especially the Hero With No Fear who had admitted to killing the Chancellor. The poster boy for the war effort became a mysterious, reviled creature. Wasn’t he one of Palpatine’s favorites? Why had he done it?

In the Senate, Mon Mothma of Chandrila was elected Interim Chancellor. Padmé Amidala – revealed to be the secret wife of the traitor Anakin Skywalker – took a leave of absence while her husband prepared to stand trial. Investigations were launched against the Jedi Order, even while their generals continued to serve on the front lines of the war.

The turning point came when the Senate’s investigators stumbled upon a directive called “Order Sixty-Six”. Details were still forthcoming, but it seemed to be a secret fail-safe that called for the deaths of not just the Jedi generals, but the entire order itself, down to the last babe. And even though the citizens of the Republic were hesitant to trust the Jedi again, they were shocked and appalled that their beloved Chancellor could devise something so heinous. Perhaps there was some truth to the Jedi’s claim that Palpatine had orchestrated the entire war.

A few days before he was to go on trial, Anakin Skywalker was released and all charges against him dropped. The Jedi Order requested he take a sabbatical; it just so happened to coincide with his wife’s last month of pregnancy. It would be a while before he found out the truth of his release – that through the tireless efforts of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Senator Bail Organa, evidence proving Palpatine was the Sith Lord Darth Sidious was brought to light – and in that time, the great Jedi hero and the beloved galactic senator welcomed their twin children into the world.

And so it was that four months after his journey to the future, Anakin sat on the balcony of Padmé’s lake house on Naboo, leaning back to accommodate the babies sleeping on his chest. It still amazed him that they could be so tiny and yet so perfectly formed. Their heads were turned to face each other, and he noticed that they even breathed in unison. He bent his head forward to place a kiss on each of their smooth foreheads. Luke and Leia. His son and his daughter.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Anakin looked over his shoulder, slowly, so as not to disturb the babies, and smiled at Padmé. “I couldn’t resist.”

Padmé walked over and put her hands on Anakin’s shoulders. “I don’t blame you. I never want to put them down.”

Anakin focused on their warmth, on the way they instinctively burrowed into him whenever he held them. He still found it hard to fathom that these were his children, that they were bound to him in a way that no one else in the entire galaxy was. That one day they would be grown up and start families of their own, and there would be grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He wondered how many he would live to see. He wondered if any of them would be Allana or Davin or Dolan.

He wondered if any of them would be Ben, or Jacen.

“You’re thinking about the future again.” It wasn’t a question. Padmé squeezed his shoulders and bent down to kiss just below his ear.

Anakin sighed. “When I think about everything that’s coming… it can be overwhelming.”

“Then don’t focus on all of that. We have the rest of our lives to fight those battles, but we only have a few precious years with our babies.”

She was right, of course. He kissed Luke and Leia again, before being distracted by a familiar presence. He glanced back at the interior of the villa. “Obi-Wan is here.”

Padmé nodded. “He commed a few minutes ago; I was coming to tell you.”

He must have been too awed by the twins to notice his friend’s presence before now. He offered Luke to Padmé and stood up with Leia as they headed for the dwelling’s entrance.

Obi-Wan grinned when he saw the twins. “They’ve gotten bigger.”

Anakin cocked one eyebrow and tried not to laugh. “They tend to do that.”

Luke stirred in Padmé’s arms, and Obi-Wan reached out to touch his cheek, a tender expression on his face. “I didn’t mean to interrupt their naptime—”

Anakin cut him off with a wave of his free hand. “Obi-Wan, you know you’re always welcome here.”

“Yes,” the older man replied. “Thank you. But I do come with news, this time.”

“Good or bad?”

“I suppose that depends on your point of view.” There was a hint of a smile on his face, but Anakin also sensed uncertainty. “The Council has decided you may end your sabbatical and return to the Order whenever you are ready.”

“Isn’t that good news? Why do you look worried?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “In all honesty, I wasn’t sure you’d want to return.”

Anakin exchanged a glance with Padmé. “Last time we talked you said the Order would be making some changes.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “In light of recent events with the Chancellor, the Council has decided to look inward for ways to improve the Order and our connection to the Force. We would like you to help us do that.”

“Me?” Anakin certainly hadn’t been expecting that. “Why?”

A mischievous grin quirked Obi-Wan’s lips. “You are the Chosen One, are you not? Destined to bring balance to the Force? Perhaps destroying the Sith was only part of that destiny.”

Anakin eyed his friend with amused suspicion. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“I may have suggested it.” Obi-Wan’s expression turned from innocent to serious. “Anakin, we want you to return as a member of the Council. A true member this time, to help us adapt the Jedi Order to a changing galaxy.”

“Obi-Wan, you know I don’t blame them for anything that’s happened. Not when I… what I almost did…” Anakin shook his head and sighed. “None of them could do worse than what I might have done. But I’m not sure I’d be a good fit. In fact, I know I wouldn’t.”

Obi-Wan gripped his shoulder, and the look of pride in his eyes was unexpected. “Anakin, any one of us can fall. All our teachings about resisting the dark side would be meaningless if there was no possibility of our falling. You chose to serve the Force and fought a great evil. You are more than equal to any member of the Jedi Council, and they all know that.”

Anakin glanced down at his daughter, still asleep in his arms. “I won’t be separated from my family,” he said, a firm set to his jaw as he looked up at Obi-Wan.

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” his friend replied.

“You’re serious?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I believe we are entering a new era for the Jedi. By the time your children are Knights, there may be many families in the Order. And I truly believe that to be a good thing.”

Anakin looked over at Padmé, then at Luke cradled against her shoulder, slumbering peacefully. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Of course.”

Padmé rubbed Luke’s back gently and swayed in place. “There’s caf in the kitchen, Obi-Wan – or tea, if you’d like me to get you some?”

“Tea sounds lovely, Padmé, but you mustn’t go to any trouble. I can prepare my own tea—”

“It’s no trouble—”

“—and I suspect you two will want to talk in private.” Obi-Wan’s gaze turned to Anakin, then to Leia lying nestled in his arms. He reached out to stroke her tiny forehead, and when he pulled away, he rested his hand on Anakin’s arm for just a moment. Nothing more was said, but his former master’s small smile and the unguarded warmth Anakin sensed from him were more than enough to convey his meaning.

Anakin watched his friend disappear into the house, and he considered his offer. A chance to shape the future for not only his family, but generations of Jedi to come? A chance to prepare the Order and the Republic and the people of the galaxy for what was coming? How could he refuse?

“You want to go, don’t you?”

Anakin wrapped an arm around Padmé’s shoulders and drew her close, noticing the way Luke and Leia shifted toward each other. “Not if I can’t take you with me,” he murmured.

Padmé’s gaze lingered on the twins for a moment before she lifted her chin to look at him. “We’ll always be with you,” she said, as if there were no question of it being otherwise. “And I think we both know where we belong.”

“Maybe. But for now, I’m going to follow your advice and live in this moment.”

Leia squirmed and opened her eyes, looking up at him. He stroked her cheek, and she fell back to sleep almost instantly. Next to him, still leaning against Padmé’s shoulder, Luke yawned and stretched an arm out. Anakin reached out with one finger and touched his son’s closed fist, and Luke instinctively wrapped his tiny fingers around it.

“Come on,” Padmé said softly. “Why don’t we join Obi-Wan for some tea? You know he’s probably already prepared some for us.”

Anakin grinned a little at that, and he followed Padmé to the kitchen, leaving the cares and worries of the future for another day.

Forty-Six Years Later

A delighted squeal issued through the lake house, and the copper-haired baby that had uttered it wobbled a bit as he happily banged his fists against his legs. He’d been listening to his grandfather tell him a story, and they’d just reached his favorite part.

“—and Ben reached out to his enemy and told him it wasn’t too late to turn back, that he could still do what was right. And as the Dark Lord of the Sith looked up at Ben, a deep sorrow filled him, and regret for all that he had done, and the fire left his eyes – and he finally took the hand that was offered to him.”

The baby on the floor wobbled forward again, and his grandfather caught him and tickled him under his chin, eliciting another happy gurgle.

“And that’s how you got your name,” Anakin told the baby. He glanced up at his grandson’s mother and grinned. “Ben was your mom’s favorite character when she was a Padawan.”

Mara Jade Skywalker kneeled down next to Ben and brought her face close to his. “He still is my favorite character,” she said as she nuzzled his nose. Ben giggled and offered her a shy, sweet smile.

Anakin watched the exchange, a knot forming in his chest as he remembered the true story of Ben’s namesake. He’d never told anyone but Padmé and Obi-Wan about that strange journey, but he carried the memory of it with him wherever he went. Over the years he had faced many trials and temptations; through them all he had trusted the Force and found strength in the love of his family. Not just his family here, but the ones he’d left behind in that distant galaxy.

“You should tell him the one about the Kessel Run,” a voice called out from across the room. Anakin looked up to see his son-in-law shooting him a lopsided smirk. “Now that’s a great story.”

Anakin shook his head, laughing under his breath. The one time he’d let Han Solo beat him in that death trap of a starship of his, and he was never, ever going to live it down. “Maybe I should tell him the gundark story,” Anakin replied with a grin. “He likes that one, too.”

Han draped an arm across the back of the sofa and scooted closer to Leia, exchanging an amused glance with her before turning his attention to Mara. “I can’t believe you let him tell that story in front of the baby.”

Mara shrugged. “You’re assuming Ben hasn’t already heard it from me,” she said with a small grin as she gathered her son in her arms. She planted a kiss on his chubby cheek before setting him back down. “Silly Uncle Han.”

Anakin rose from the floor and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “The twins have been listening to the gundark story since they were Ben’s age, and they turned out fine.”

“Of course they turned out fine.” Han jerked his thumb at his chest, smiling wide. “They’re my kids.”

Anakin met his daughter’s eyes across the room; she rolled them affectionately, then leaned over to kiss her husband on the cheek. “You two are being ridiculous again,” Leia said, unfazed as always by their friendly rivalry. As she and Han turned to talk more privately with one another, Anakin surveyed the rest of the room.

The lakeside villa on Naboo remained one of the few unspoiled refuges for their family, and for the first time in many, many months, they were all gathered here – Luke and Mara and their children, Leia and Han and theirs. They’d even managed to get Owen and Beru and Tahiri and most of Sola’s family here for a few days; the extended Naberrie clan had returned home for the night, but Anakin’s stepbrother and sister-in-law were sitting with Padmé across the room, sipping at their drinks as they watched the older grandchildren play an unusually noisy game of dejarik. And as long as there wasn’t any trouble along the hyperspace lanes from Alderaan, they were expecting Bail and Breha in the morning.

Anakin sighed and tried not to think too much about the risks involved with such travel, the dangers that had become almost routine by now. The war against the Yuuzhan Vong had raged for over two long years, and though they’d been prepared for the invaders, the conflict was still more brutal and devastating than he could have imagined. The Republic was finally coming close to winning the war, but Anakin feared what that victory might cost.

A chime sounded, and See-Threepio walked into the room, his arms raised halfway to his chest in a way that always made him appear rather alarmed. “Miss Jaina,” the golden protocol droid announced, “there is a comm for you, from a Colonel Jagged Fel of—”

“You hear that, Jaina?” Little Anakin – not so little anymore, not by a long shot – grinned as he looked up from the dejarik board. “Colonel Fel is calling you.”

“Thanks, Threepio!” Jaina all but shouted, tossing a glare at her brother in the process. “I’ll take it in my room.”

Anakin watched his granddaughter hurry away, smiling to himself as he did. Then he sensed movement behind him, and he looked over his shoulder for the source.

Luke was standing alone in the doorway to the veranda, his eyes following Ben’s every movement. He was trying hard not to project his feelings, but Anakin could tell he was troubled. The older Jedi joined his son at the door.

“You’re worried about something.”

Luke looked up at Anakin and frowned. “Am I that transparent?”

Anakin shook his head. “I may not be Leia or Mara, but I can still read you fairly well, son.”

A half-hearted laugh. “And here I thought after all these years I was finally getting good at masking my emotions.” Luke crossed his arms and looked away, his eyes once again on Ben. “Something’s come up.”

“Bad?”

The muscles in Luke’s jaw visibly tightened, but he shook his head. “We have a chance to take out the facility where they’re cloning the voxyn, maybe even eradicate the source. I was asked to lead the strike team.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We leave tomorrow.”

Anakin’s breath caught in his throat. He might as well have been twenty-three again, sitting in that abandoned hut on Tatooine as Ben described the mission that had killed one cousin and irrevocably changed the other two. How long had he been waiting for this singular moment?

Anakin listened as Luke provided what details he could about the mission. Eventually Ben caught sight of his father and let out a happy, high-pitched greeting, and Luke’s sense in the Force lightened considerably as he strode forward to sweep his son into his arms. Anakin watched the two of them playing together, a heavy weight gripping his heart.

“I see he’s told you.”

Anakin kept his eyes forward as Obi-Wan joined him in the doorway. “You knew?”

“I spoke with him before he came in here.” Obi-Wan paused for a moment and let out a small sigh. “You know, I never once doubted you when you told me about the future and everything that happened in that other world, but I did hope it would turn out you were wrong.”

Anakin crossed his arms over his chest. “So did I.”

They watched the younger generations for several long seconds before Obi-Wan broke the silence again. “I take it you’ll be going in Luke’s place?”

Anakin nodded slowly. “I knew this day would come. I just didn’t realize the choice would be so easy.”

“When your children are at stake, the choices do seem to become clearer, yes.” A fond smile crossed Obi-Wan’s face, as if he were remembering an old, well-worn joke. “I’m going with you, of course.”

“No.” Anakin rounded on him, fighting to keep his voice down. “Absolutely not. You’re too old for this sort of mission.”

“Anakin—”

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“Anakin, I know dangerous situations are your speciality, but believe it or not, I could use a little adventure. And do I need to remind you again how old Dooku was when he wiped the floor with you?”

“That was different—”

“It’s only different because you want it to be different.” Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder and smiled impishly. “Face it, my old apprentice. You’re stuck with me.”

Anakin blew out an exasperated breath. “I should have known better by now.” He gave his friend a pointed look. “I’m not kidding about the danger, though. Ben told me what he knew about Myrkr, and it was beyond anything I could comprehend at the time, but now that I’ve fought the Yuuzhan Vong firsthand…” He trailed off, unable to finish.

“You don’t have to say it, Anakin. I know. But in a way I’m glad. How many people get to go on their last mission knowing that it’s their last? And to go with their best friend, no less.”

The muscles in Anakin’s face twitched into something resembling a smile. “We’ve had a good run, haven’t we?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes twinkled. “The best, I’d say.”

From across the room – almost as if she’d sensed the direction of their conversation – Padmé looked up and met Anakin’s gaze, and she took a long, deep breath. After nearly five decades together, she could read him as well as Obi-Wan could, maybe even better at times. He tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“Everything okay, Gramps?”

Anakin looked away from Padmé and turned his attention to his oldest grandson. The eyes that looked back at him were so different from the ones he had seen a lifetime ago. Those eyes had been mercurial and bitter, twisted by pain and grief and darkness. It hurt to remember those eyes and the way they had stared off into space before closing forever. But unlike the sad, broken person Anakin had known, the young man in front of him radiated compassion and warmth, and he took the pain of others so very seriously. He still struggled at times with his place in their family, and in the war, and with who he thought he ought to be – but he’d never once given Anakin any reason to doubt that he would grow into a good and wise man, Jedi or not.

Maybe his Jacen would never face the trials and tragedies that had shaped his counterpart. Maybe the ripple effects of this mission to Myrkr would never be as widespread as they had been in Ben’s world. Maybe none of it mattered in the grand cosmic scheme of things, or maybe it mattered more than anyone could guess. Right here, right now, all Anakin truly knew was that he loved his family, and if he could spare even one of them from being lost, he would gladly give his life.

He slung one arm over his grandson’s shoulders and hugged him tight. “More than okay, Jacen,” he answered. “I love you. Always remember that.”

He ruffled the boy’s hair so as not to worry him, even though they’d long passed the point where Jacen was fooled by such things. “I know, Gramps,” his grandson replied in a soft voice. “I love you, too.” Jacen’s brow furrowed. “But you’re sure you’re okay?”

Anakin nodded. “Absolutely.”

Jacen studied him for a moment, a small, sober smile on his lips; then he nodded and turned away, walking over to where Luke and Mara were playing with Ben. The baby laughed as soon as he saw his cousin, and Jacen reached down to scoop Ben up into his arms. That, perhaps more than any other interaction Anakin had witnessed tonight, touched something deep inside him, a part of him that few had ever seen. A piece of himself that was left behind in another universe where he’d died in his grandson’s arms.

As Anakin ruminated over the peculiarities of fate, he sensed his oldest friend join him once again.

“Do you think we’ve really changed things?” he said quietly to Obi-Wan, asking the question that had started a thousand similar conversations over the years. “I know so many things are different now, but sometimes it still seems like we’ve hardly deviated from the path Ben described to me.”

As always, Obi-Wan reached out to grasp his shoulder, and smiled. “Anakin. The fact that you’re here now changes everything.”

Anakin took a long breath, and he let his gaze travel around the room, pausing on each member of his family. Stars, there were so many of them now. He couldn’t have imagined it would be this way one day. He couldn’t have imagined the impact one decision would have on the course of his life or the fate of the galaxy.

Over the years, Anakin had caught glimpses of the different paths he might travel down. Many of those potential paths were shrouded in the Force, twisting and turning in ways that he already knew might end in heartbreak and despair. But there were others – many, many others – that shone brightly, hinting at futures filled with peace and hope and love. He never saw himself in those futures, but he recognized the beacons of light that were his children, and his grandchildren, and so many others, standing firm against the darkness. That was the true legacy of the Chosen One, he’d come to realize. A legacy of balance that would endure long after he was gone, because it had never really belonged to him to begin with. It had always been so much bigger than that.

“Ani!”

He turned toward the sound of his wife’s voice and found her smiling at him. Even after sixty years and all the incredible things he’d witnessed throughout the galaxy, Padmé’s smile was still one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen. “Come inside,” she called out, motioning for him to join her.

Anakin heaved a deep, contented sigh as he gazed at her, surrounded by the family they had made, and he silently thanked the Force for the second chance it had given him, such a long time ago. He might not have very many moments left to live, but he was going to live in this one for as long as he possibly could.

Another universe. Another time.

Beneath a new set of stars, the inhabitants of the Jedi enclave on Zonama Sekot emerged from their dwellings and came together in celebration. The Dark Lord and Master of the Sith was dead and his forces scattered. In time, the Empire would crumble. There were still battles to be fought and systems to liberate, but tonight was for celebrating. The lower branches of the boras were alive with bioluminescent insects, adding their light to the otherworldly glow of the towering globe-stalks that ringed the amphitheater – the site of the evening’s festivities. Members of the closest neighboring Ferroan and Yuuzhan Vong villages arrived with food and drink and even, to the delight of the children, a few musical instruments. Before long, the Yuuzhan Vong musicians had struck up a tune that got everyone else dancing.

It was to this joyous scene that Ben Skywalker and Tahiri Veila and all their companions returned, battered and bruised, but victorious nonetheless. One-by-one the revelers noticed their arrival and came to draw them into the festivities. Carin and Savl Horn reached them first, and Ben smiled a little as Valin dropped to his knees and gathered both of his children in his arms. Syal kneeled down next to him, fielding Carin’s excited questions and ruffling Savl’s hair, and Valin leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

About time, Ben thought as he watched them for a few more seconds. Myri echoed his sentiments out loud as she swept past them all, dragging Ulin along behind her, clearly on a mission. A reminder from Tahiri to take it easy on their slicer friend was met with a wink and a casual wave from Myri and a slightly sheepish grin from Ulin, and Ben didn’t miss the way Tahiri smiled wider in response.

A whooping laugh caught his attention, and he turned to see Kohr spinning Dira Nal into his arms. They continued to laugh as they tried to keep up with the rapid tempo of the music. Behind them, Karanya and Kala Di were beaming as they watched the pair and whispered to each other. Meanwhile, Myri and Ulin had already managed to procure a table and chairs and looked to be setting up for a card game. Myri called out to Elias and Arden, who stood just outside the circle of dancers, holding each other and laughing along with their friends. Elias caught Ben’s eye and waved, and Ben returned the wave, smiling at his friend and at the aura of peace he sensed in him.

Finally, he found the two people he’d been looking for. Davin and Dolan zigzagged through the crowd and flung themselves into his and Tahiri’s arms. Allana joined in the embrace, and the five of them stood huddled together for the longest time. Then, because they were still eight-year-old boys, the twins broke away and began pulling Tahiri toward the dancers.

Ben noticed a small, blond-haired boy standing a few meters away, staring at him and Allana. Before he could say anything, Allana went and picked up the little boy and carried him over.

“Ben,” she said, “I want you to meet my brother, Roan.”

The boy was silent, but he looked at Ben more out of curiosity than fear. Ben smiled. “Hey, Roan. Welcome to the family.”

Roan nodded before burying his face in Allana’s shoulder. She kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back. “Let’s go find Davin and Dolan.” She looked up at Ben. “You coming with us?”

Ben briefly surveyed the party. “You go ahead. I think I’ll just watch for a little while.”

Allana took Roan with her, leaving Ben alone at the shadowy fringes of the enclave. He observed the celebration for a while, content to see his family and friends so happy and free. He even smiled at the sight of Allana grabbing Ames for a dance. Davin had partnered with Roan in perfect imitation of the adults, and Tahiri was spinning Dolan around in circles, making the usually somber boy laugh out loud.

Ben was about to head toward the others when he sensed something behind him. He turned his head to glance back, and what he saw left him breathless.

They were standing there, a trio of luminous figures distinct from the glow of the tampasi – figures that he knew. Aunt Leia and Jaina gazed at him with all the warmth that he remembered, and he felt that warmth like a balm on his soul. The third ghostly figure stood between them, his arms draped over their shoulders as he grinned at Ben. He’d been too young to remember meeting him, but he’d seen enough holos to recognize Anakin Solo anywhere.

The air around his aunt and cousins shimmered, not unlike the way it often did under the intense glare of Tatooine’s twin suns. Another woman stood there with them, her braided hair framing a fiercely proud and regal face that he wouldn’t soon forget. How could he, when he saw so much of that face every day in her daughter? Tenel Ka held a hand to her heart and bowed her head, and Ben returned the gesture.

Other forms materialized, less distinct shades that nevertheless pulsed with an energy all their own. He felt a comforting weight on his shoulder, a strong, confident hand that had always known just what direction to aim him, even without the Force. Next, he experienced a profound sense of gratitude, and Davin and Dolan’s faces flashed through his thoughts. He might not have been able to see Uncle Han or Jag as clearly as he saw the others, but he knew they were there.

Aunt Leia looked over her shoulder, and Ben followed her gaze as two more figures appeared. If his heart could have stopped from shock and happiness, it would have in that moment.

His mom and dad stood together, their expressions filled with such joy and love… Force, he’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of their love, and now he wondered how he’d managed so long without it. He wanted so badly to go to them, to run into their arms; knowing that he couldn’t made him ache. There was so much he wanted to say to them, things he hadn’t been able to tell them while they lived. But as he stared into the tampasi and met their silent gaze, those words no longer seemed important. He realized they’d been with him all along.

A twig snapped behind him, and he spun around to find Allana and Tahiri approaching him slowly with Roan and the twins in tow. At first he thought he was going to be dragged back to the celebration, but then he noticed the awed expressions on their faces. Allana was holding a trembling hand to her mouth, and the three boys couldn’t have opened their eyes any wider if they’d tried. Tahiri looked on the verge of tears.

“Ben?” she whispered, unable to say more.

Ben nodded at her and turned back to where the ghosts of their loved ones had appeared. Behind his parents, two more figures took form, both wearing the traditional, nondescript robes of the old Jedi Order. He didn’t recognize the bearded man smiling in approval, although he had a feeling he should have. The tall man next to him, however, he knew instantly.

Ben gasped as he took in the sight of his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, leaning casually against a tree, arms folded across his chest. His eyes rose to meet Ben’s, and he nodded. They were old eyes, Ben realized. Eyes that had watched the galaxy from behind a mask and seen the true depths to which a person could sink. This was his grandfather, certainly, but he wasn’t the Anakin that Ben had known. His friend.

The weight of that loss was still heavy on him. He wondered where Anakin was if not here. Maybe he was at peace. Maybe he’d been given a second chance to make things right. Maybe one day there might be a world where Jacen was given the same chance.

As if in answer to his thoughts, his grandfather smiled, and for a brief moment the tampasi was gone. He saw a villa overlooking a lake and his family alive and well. He saw his mom and dad, younger, sitting on the floor with a baby between them, and realized he was looking at himself. He saw Aunt Leia and Uncle Han, and his cousins Jaina and Anakin, and Tahiri sitting with a couple of girls about her age that he didn’t know, but who nevertheless struck him as strangely familiar. He saw a woman sitting next to Aunt Leia, and though she was much older than she’d been in the hologram Artoo had captured long ago, he knew this was his grandmother, Padmé.

Finally, he saw Jacen, standing out on the veranda underneath a sea of stars. Next to him, arm around his shoulders, was an old man with a familiar lightsaber hanging from his hip. The old man looked straight up at Ben, blue eyes still as clear as he remembered them.

Thank you, Anakin whispered across time and space.

“Thank you,” Ben whispered back as the vision faded. The sounds of the celebration rang loud in his ears, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Elias and Arden waving at them to rejoin the party. They hadn’t seen the ghosts.

Ben looked back at his parents. They nodded at him, and even without words their meaning was clear. He had spent so many years running and hiding and fighting to survive. It was time for him to live.

It was time for all of them to live.

Chapter Text

Enter the Foreign – Just before his fateful turn to the dark side, Anakin Skywalker is transported 70 years into the future, where he meets the ragtag remainder of the Jedi Order and becomes engulfed in their struggle against the new Sith Empire. (Anakin Sr., Ben, Tahiri, Allana, Jacen, OCs & more, time travel, drama, angst, action/adventure; 51 ABY; novel-length)

The Lands of the Dead – When two brothers are kidnapped by the Sith, they fight to survive and eventually come to a grim realization: their old lives are gone, the bright fields of day forever past. There are no Jedi here. (OCs, Jacen; angst, psychological horror; 43-49 ABY; short story)

Where the Waves Shatter – Feelings are hard, especially for a not-quite-former Sith Lord. (Or, Darth Festus and Allana Djo face off in combat for the first time since Vjun.) (Allana/Festus, Ferrus; angst, dark romance, unrequited love; 54 ABY; vignette)

What If This Storm Ends? – Five times Darth Festus definitely wasn't in love with a Jedi princess, and one time she definitely wasn't in love with him. (Allana/Festus, Ferrus; drama, angst, dark romance, unrequited love; 43-61 ABY; vignette)

Here There Be Monsters – Several months after earning a place among the Sith initiates, fourteen-year-old Dorian Starskip encounters monsters on the grave world of Korriban. One tries to eat him, one is possibly mentoring him, and a few just really hate his guts. Which of these is most to be feared? (OCs, Jacen; introspection, angst, drama, action; 47 ABY; vignette)

HK-47 and the Super Evil Chaos Twins of Evil – Darth Ferrus asks his brother to buy a maintenance droid for their ship, but Darth Festus has a slightly different idea. Snark, hilarity, and attempted murder ensue. (Ferrus & Festus, HK-47; humor; 52-53 ABY; vignette)

Forces of Gravity – No matter how hard you fight it, gravity always wins. (Or, Darth Festus and Allana Djo cross paths again when he and his brother are sent to kill a criminal informant that she's protecting.) (Allana/Festus, Ferrus, Ames; drama, action, dark romance, introspection; 55 ABY; vignette)

In Dreams We Dwell – After finishing up an assignment on the idyllic planet Kurin, Jedi Knight Allana Djo finds herself attending a lavish masquerade ball… and dealing with a dangerous uninvited guest. (Allana/Festus, Ben, Ferrus, other OCs; dark romance, drama, introspection, angst; 59 ABY; short story)

Those Three Words – Padawans Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade take some time off from Jedi training to attend a high-end art gallery exhibition. It also happens to be their so-very-secret first date. (Luke/Mara, Leia, Anakin/Padmé; fluff, romance; 1 BBY, in the universe where EtF Anakin never fell to the dark side; vignette)

The Way Out Is Through – Ben Skywalker has lost so many people to war, and still he survives. (Ben, Mara, Leia, Tahiri, Jaina, Jag, Han, Wedge, OCs; angst, drama, introspection, action, horror; 42-52 ABY; vignette collection)

Thunderbolt and Lightning – A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, there lived a pair of twins. Nope, not those twins. Or those ones either. (Festus & Ferrus; drama, angst, introspection, action, horror; 33-58 ABY; vignette collection)

Our Weakness Is the Same – She can’t escape his orbit, and he can’t escape hers. (Or, Allana Djo and Darth Festus spend ten years trying to kill each other and/or falling in love, maybe.) (Allana/Festus; dark romance, drama, introspection, angst; 43-61 ABY; vignette collection)

Turn Ourselves Into These Ashes – In the wake of their humiliating defeat on Vjun, Darth Festus and Darth Ferrus lead a surprise attack on a hidden Jedi enclave. (OCs; EtF missing scene, angst, introspection; 51 ABY; vignette)

Metamorphosis – Jacen Solo has had plenty of time to think. He thinks about being a student. About being a teacher. Being a Jedi, and a Sith, and a traitor. Most of all, though, he thinks about being a shadowmoth. (Jacen, Vergere, OCs; introspection; 47 ABY; vignette)

Lover, Hunter, Friend, and Enemy – Nothing’s fair in love and war. (Allana/Festus, Ferrus; angst, drama, romance, dark romance, weirdness; 43 ABY and beyond, in the various AUs of the Enter!verse; vignette collection)

There Is Nothing Lost – “For whatsoever from one place doth fall / Is with the tyde unto another brought…” a series of Regency AU ficlets and vignettes featuring Allana, the Chaos Twins, and various Skywalker/Solo relations (Allana/Dorian, Veeran, Sky/Solos; romance, drama; vignette/short story collection)

Beneath the Gods of the Bright Sky – Problem child, worthless Jedi brat, dumb brute… Veeran Starskip has been called a lot of things in his life, but there’s one name he’ll make sure they never forget. (Veeran, Dorian, other OCs, Jacen, Tionne; drama, angst, coming-of-age, action; 41-49 ABY; multi-chapter)

Enter the Drabble – 100 drabbles set in the Enter!verse and its happy AU counterpart, written for Ultimate Drabble Challenge X (various characters; various time periods; drabble collection)

Sacrifice – The battle isn’t between dark and light, or shield and sword, or the slayer and the trickster – the battle is between Jacen and Jaina, and this is how it ends. (Jacen, Jaina; angst, drama, introspection; 43 ABY; vignette)