A long time ago, in a galaxy that never was...
It is an uncertain time for the Republic. The Empire is no more, but the victory was slim, and the political morass that brought it into being remains.
Having borne the heaviest part of the Battle of the Outer Rim, the Skywalker family has shouldered the burdens of the shaky Republic in the ten years since. Anakin Skywalker has recreated the Jedi Order, bringing balance to its decimated ranks, while his wife, Amidala, works tirelessly as Chancellor of the Senate to bring peace to the shattered galaxy. Young Luke Skywalker has become a powerful Jedi in his own right, and prepares to take his own students, while his twin, Leia, travels the galaxy as head of Republic security.
As the family struggles to cope with its responsibilities, the unraveling political situation in the far off worlds of the Outer Rim has flared into a rebellion, as mysterious warriors, claiming to speak for Amidala, spread fire and desolation across the galaxy...
PROLOGUE: MISETA
Motibi. Outer Rim.
The sky was red with blood and fire, but the two figures that stood silhouetted against it, high on a rise above the storm, no longer noticed such things. They had seen it on a dozen worlds. Their attention was on one another.
"So it comes to this, does it, my Miseta?"
"As you have always known it would, Master." The smaller figure stepped forward, cloaks and veils blowing wildly about her in the wind of the firestorm. "You named me for order. I will not destroy the order I've bought at such a high price."
A sneering laugh. "Order? You walk and breathe at the whim of a weak woman who cannot control even her own household, let alone the galaxy. Think, my Miseta! You have the power to mold this chaos to your own desires! To make of it whatever you like! You need only take that one step... a simple step. It is certainly not a new one for you."
"No, it is not." Her voice was strangely calm, even in her own mind. The time really had come to break the chain of command. "And I do plan to free myself of unnecessary controls today." She pushed her mind outward. "Walk into the fire, Master."
Her Master only laughed. "Try it with the feeble locals, my Miseta. They seemed to respond better when you told them to burn their precious hovels. I am stronger than they are."
"Perhaps. But you are not stronger than I am." She focused, concentrated... she knew that her Master was not to be toyed with... but she also knew that she spoke the simple truth. She had been strong enough to do this for years.
Her Master's face grew suddenly taut, and a pale hand grasped futilely toward the failing heart. Then, a strange, hateful smile. "This..." A gasp. "... is worthy of you... my Miseta." One more push, and the heart burst inside the ruined chest.
The larger of the two figures crumpled to the ground, becoming one more meaningless shape in the smoke. Miseta contemplated the shape for less than a minute, then pushed it over the rise into the raging fire below.
She hadn't wanted it to come to this, not after ten years of study and a strange variety of cold friendship. But her Master should never have told her to kill the Chancellor.
After all, what kind of monster would kill her own mother?
"Get down, Amidala!"
Amidala had learned long ago that the tone was not to be dismissed, and she dropped immediately under the cover of the balcony's parapet. Ani's lightsaber ignited in a flash of bluish-white as the high whistle of a blaster shot broke the air. He deflected it easily, and the one after it.
Amidala reached for her blaster, always set for stun, and followed the direction of the shots to their source: an old man, with crazed eyes and wild hair. She thought he was crying as he fired.
She turned the power level as low as it could go and still immobilize him, then aimed carefully and fired. The assassin dropped his gun and crumpled to the ground.
Ani glanced back at her. "Good shot."
She smiled. "Good cover. Please bring him to me, Ani. I need to talk to him."
"I think it a poor idea..."
"You'll be right here with us."
He nodded, and she watched him make his way down off the balcony, to the courtyard below where people were gathering around the semi-conscious shooter.
"Mother?"
She turned. Ben was standing ten yards behind her, a pallie in one hand, his eyes deep and troubled. A ten year old child, Amidala thought, should never have that expression. "Everything is all right, Ben," she said. "Go back inside. Please."
He started to protest, but in the end, Ben was a compliant child - much like Luke had been many years ago - and he nodded and went inside. She would explain to him later.
"...can walk on my own, don't touch me false Jedi..."
Amidala turned back toward the city, and saw that Ani was guiding the shooter up the stairs. The man was raving, barely allowing himself to be led. Amidala went to him. "Peace, old father," she said. "What troubles you?"
Ani rolled his eyes. His patience ran out quickly when he perceived someone as her enemy. But Amidala could not look at this old man and see an assassin. She saw only the pain in his eyes, the pain that was driving him to madness.
He spat on the ground in front of her. "I'm not your father, witch," he said. "I am Jaet Bishapi, of Anoat. Or what used to be Anoat until your demons burned it away."
"Mr. Bishapi, I -"
"Doctor. Doctor Bishapi."
"Very well, Dr. Bishapi, I am investigating what happened on Anoat. I did not order that siege, and my heart goes to the people who suffered it -"
"Do you think I can't smell your lies? They stink like the smoke and the fire and the melted steel. I saw the demon, walking through the flames like they were its very own doom. I heard it order men to their deaths, and women too. And I heard it do all those things in your name, witch." Bishapi looked at her disdainfully, then laughed. "So either you know, in which case, you ought to be in the same hell you put us in. Or you don't know, and you can't control it, in which case, you ought to go back to the desert and breed, since it's the only thing you seem to do right."
Amidala saw Ani's hand pulling tighter on the back of Bishapi's shirt, his eyes narrowing. She shook her head. She didn't want this man injured any more than he already had been. If she couldn't take an insult from a madman with grace and dignity, she really wasn't worthy of her position.
"Yes, yes. Call off your attack dog," Bishapi said. Amidala was surprised - insane, the man might be, but he missed very little. "False Jedi, servant of -"
"That is enough, Dr. Bishapi," Amidala said quietly. She thumbed a key on her comm-pad (a wrist device that she almost always wore), and the guards arrived. She instructed them to take Bishapi to a nearby hospital where his wounds - both physical and mental - could be tended, and watched them lead him off. His anger seemed not to have abated but --
"He's confused," Ani said. "You weren't what he expected."
"He expected a demon."
"Yes."
She sighed. "Because he saw one."
"He saw something, Amidala. Not necessarily what he believes he saw."
Amidala could think of nothing to say. The afternoon wind was beginning to pick up, as the rush hour traffic stirred the atmosphere stories above them. It always seemed to have a cold edge to it. "Let's go inside, Ani," she finally said.
He nodded, and followed her in.
Ben was sitting at the table, looking pinched and drawn. Amidala thought at first that it was simply a continued reaction to the assassination attempt - he'd dealt with them before, but they frightened him badly - but then she saw that he was watching a small holoproj, the kind with a privacy screen.
"What is it?" Ani asked him.
He turned the holo around, and Amidala saw red flames and black smoke. It could have been a repeat of a news item that had already run too many times for her to bear, but she knew it wasn't. "Again?" she asked.
Ben nodded.
"Come on, Luke," Shmi goaded. "Just let me take it for a little while."
"No."
She smiled widely, gray eyes dancing merrily as he led her out of the garage. "Please! I won't tell Father you let me drive."
"Since when would you need to?" Luke rolled his eyes, and pinched his sister's nose. She had thrived on Coruscant, growing into a bright teen, so cheerful that most people didn't peg her for a Temple student, even though she always wore the cropped beige tunic and brown boots that the others wore. She also wore a long padawan braid, though she was not officially anyone's padawan yet - Luke had chosen her four years ago, to take as a padawan when he finished his own training, and had braided his own hair into hers. She had let it grow since then, and cut the rest of her hair short so it would show. "And, at any rate, it's not Father who's saying no, it's me. It's one thing when we go back to Tatooine. You're not likely to hit anyone there. But it's another matter entirely here."
She stuck out her tongue, then wrapped her arms around his waist as they walked. Her small shoulder fit comfortably in his hand. "I just want to play for a little while," she said, "before everything gets serious. I think I like being your baby sister more than I'll like being your padawan."
"Thanks for the pre-judgment."
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do."
They walked on toward the Temple without saying much, feeling the last tattered shreds of their warm Tatooine childhood torn away in the chilly wind of Coruscant. Luke knew he was supposed to have shed his years ago, upon taking on the burden of his apprenticeship, but he'd had Shmi, and their baby brother Ben, at home to play with. Mother had always been there with a smile and a kiss, and Father's idea of being a master was not terribly different from his idea of being a father - protect and defend, love and cherish, teach and nurture. He'd been lucky, and had held on to his role as son for longer than most people were able to. Now, he would have to take on the role of father and master, albeit to a sister rather than a daughter. He'd try to see to it that he gave Shmi the same benefit Father had given him.
"Where is Leia?" Shmi asked quietly.
Luke shook his head. "I don't know."
"You always used to know."
"Yes, I did." He fell silent. It was a greater pain to him than Shmi imagined. Leia had drawn into herself over the years, losing touch with the Force - even deliberately cutting herself off from it -- as Luke gained strength in it. She'd severed their twins'-bond in doing so. He could sometimes sense strange tremblings, the phantom pains of an amputated limb, but he could not speak to her mind, or hear her speaking to his. Through their childhood, they had never been separated. Now, they were almost never together. He missed her desperately.
Shmi looked down, picking up on some of it. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to -"
"It's all right."
They reached the high door of the Temple's entrance. Two of the seven transparisteel window pains had not been replaced, and the gaping holes had been filled with mud bricks. That had been Yoda's idea, to leave the building with the permanent scars of the purge. Father had agreed, and the small, early group of knights and students had taken it as their first project. Inscribed on each brick were the names of fallen Jedi, all that each survivor could name. A final brick, placed between the doors, bore only the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the last to fall in the war against the Sith.
Luke led Shmi inside, up into the tower, where Father waited in the Council room with Yoda. They made a strange pair of shapes against the sunset,
(so it comes to this, my Miseta)
Father, the large mountain of a man, with roots deep in the soul of the galaxy; Yoda the diminutive Master, with power that reached upward into the sky. Luke took a moment at the Council door to just stand and love them both.
"Come in, children," Father said, turning to them.
Shmi went in without hesitation. The older Masters had been scandalized at first about Father's policy of free access to the Council room whenever the doors were open - which was whenever there wasn't an actual session in progress - but they had come around, and Shmi had never been aware of their disapproval. She felt much freer here than Luke did.
"Father?" Luke said. "You seem troubled."
"There has been another attack in the Outer Rim, on the world of Motibi."
"Wasn't there a riot there last week?" Shmi asked.
"Yes. That's been the pattern all along. Your mother believes someone might be trying to encourage rebellion by committing such brutalities in the name of the Republic. In her name." He grimaced.
Luke smiled to himself; Father was nothing if not predictable - he could live with the insult to the Republic, but an insult to Mother was unbearable. "Has Leia followed up on it?"
"She has found nothing. Burnt-out villages, many casualties, many injured. Little evidence of ammunition, or even troop movements. In most cases, it seems that the people themselves have destroyed their homes in a fit of madness."
Yoda turned for the first time, the sunset catching his wisps of white hair and turning them red and gold. "Madness, it would seem at first glance, Master Anakin, yet madness, I do not sense in these worlds."
"Nor I."
"Then what?" Shmi asked, sitting in front of a Council chair (the room was open, but the chairs were considered sacrosanct; Luke didn't remember when or how that had become the custom).
Father sighed. "A survivor of the raid on Anoat - one of the very few - made an attempt on your Mother's life today -"
"What? Why didn't you...?"
"Peace, Luke. It was a clumsy attack, I was there; it ended without incident. That man really was mad. Yet one of his ravings struck me deeply."
"A demon," Father whispered, closing his eyes. "He spoke of a dark-robed demon walking through the flames. It made little sense and yet..."
"Real, this demon is," Yoda said. "Real and dangerous. But not a demon."
"I don't understand."
There was silence, then Shmi said it first.
"Sith."
CHAPTER ONE: SOMEONE WHO LOVES YOU
Corellia.
Han hadn't given much thought to the scars in years. He'd given her the damned veils, but he'd convinced her not to wear them when they were alone together, here in his house. The bottom part of Leia's face, a warped crescent that stretched from below her right ear to the left side of her chin, looked like melted plastic. But he'd rather see it than not see it. He'd rather see Leia Skywalker than the mask she always wore.
He thought she was beautiful. The scars just reminded him of it by marring it.
Her mouth twitched in something that resembled a smile. It was an expression she couldn't hold for long without pain. "What are you staring at, flyboy?"
He grinned. "Just wondering what kind of trouble I'm in, to drag Republic security all the way out here."
"Don't flatter yourself," she said, turning her nose up in mock arrogance. "As it happens I was just in the neighborhood..."
Han leaned over and kissed the upturned nose. "And you just had to drop by and say hello."
"Something like that." She pulled him to her for a more serious kiss, her strong fingers massaging the back of his neck. He'd kissed her the first time four years ago, the day he'd first pulled away the veils she wore. It was good then; it had gotten better. The only problem was that she always seemed scared of being found out - despite the fact that her family knew, and Solo couldn't think of anyone else who'd mind. She broke away, and linked her arm through his, leading them further into his house. "Things are going to get better now," she said. "I promise."
"You can still read minds, can't you?"
She gave him a hard sideways look. He caught a glint of something in her eyes, something he didn't like at all, but he let it go. She'd always had a temper. She'd always had this... he shook it off. He knew enough to be careful with her. He liked her enough not to let it bother him. "No," she said. "That part of my life is a long time ago. Leave it to my brother."
"Speaking of whom..."
"He's fine, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I said hello for him, though he didn't know I was coming here."
There was a distance in her voice, and that bothered Han more than the hardness in her eyes. When he'd first met the Skywalker twins, they were the closest sibs he'd ever imagined. He'd sort of wished to be part of that. But now... something was wrong.
"Nothing's wrong," Leia said.
"Thought you weren't reading minds anymore."
"I don't need to read your mind. I can read your face." She pulled away from him, and went to the window. "I just haven't seen my family for awhile. Things have been... a little intense." She turned, and gave him the smile she'd practiced longest. She was getting better at it. "And I didn't come to you to talk about my brother."
"What did you come to talk about?" He sat down on the tattered sofa, putting his feet up on an end table.
"Who says I came to talk?"
Experience, Han thought. Just plain old ordinary experience. He said, "Well, I know you just can't stay away from a good-looking guy like me for long and all..."
She rolled her eyes, and looked back out the window. The afternoon sun split around her in a hazy halo, and Han sat back to appreciate it. He tried not to think too clearly - whatever she said, he didn't think she'd lost the ability to read his thoughts, and didn't imagine she ever hesitated to do so. It wasn't a problem for him, though it had driven Chewie crazy. She'd never gotten an ear for the Wookiee language, but she was always and forever cutting him off in the middle of a sentence by predicting what he was going to say. He'd taken to finding errands to run any time she said she was coming. Too bad. Chewie'd liked her once, too. And his snub hadn't gone unnoticed where it counted. A bitterness had crept into Leia's tone when she spoke of him.
How many things were there that got that tone these days?
Han shook his head, clearing it of the unwelcome thought. Hell, he'd never figured her for perfect. Just pretty and smart and tough enough to match him blow for blow in a word fight. Just more alive than anyone he'd ever met, more determined to make her life mean something. Just someone he loved.
She turned her head and looked at him with eyes that were sad and full of regret, then turned back to the window.
He couldn't stand not touching her for another minute, and he got up and went to her, slipping his arms around her from behind and kissing the nape of her neck.
She turned in his arms and pressed herself to him. "Hold me," she whispered, her voice thick.
Han was no mind-reader, but even he could feel the desperation in her, the confusion. "What is it, Leia?" he whispered between kisses. "Tell me. Talk to me."
"I can't tell you. Just hold me."
He did.
Two hours later, she had drifted to sleep at last, and Han cradled her in the crook of his arm. He imagined that he could see the dark circles under her eyes starting to fade, but he knew it was his imagination. It wasn't the circles that were holding his attention, anyway. Now, as she slept quietly, he could see her face more clearly, see the terrible scar.
And he could see that there were fresh burn marks on the old scar tissue, scattered red spots like pox. The burns of flying ash.
It wasn't the first time he'd seen burns like that on her. And every news report from another burned world made the uneasy suspicion stir in him that he knew where they came from. She always seemed to show up like this - not just burned, but looking like the devil himself was after her - not long after one of them...
He struggled against it. He loved this woman, and she loved him, and there weren't a hell of a lot of people in the galaxy that he could say that about. And she'd never so much as accidentally scratched him when they were together, at least not without profusely apologizing. She couldn't be...
Han thought about the holos of the Outer Rim worlds put to the flames.
She couldn't.
He held her closer, and knew better.
Luke sat in the meditation room of the Jedi Temple, not meditating. Across from him, Father wasn't even pretending to meditate - he just stood at the window, and watched the traffic weave its way across the sky. He didn't talk. That didn't bother Luke; he was one of the few people Father was comfortable being silent with, and that pleased him. Besides, it wasn't Father he needed to talk to.
Leia... he whispered into the empty spaces in the Force, the lifeless vacuum of space. It echoed through the energy, resonating against the thin lines that bound the galaxy. Hear me, Leia...
He reached deep into his own heart, feeling for the tattered remnants of the twins' bond they had once shared. Was there a response? A whisper? A plea? Was the loneliness hers, or merely his own, amplified and reflected back to him?
"Luke."
He looked up. "Yes, Father?"
"You need to let go of this."
"Of Leia?"
"No. Simply of the hope we had - all of us - that the Council would someday relent and allow her to be trained. She will never be lost to us as daughter and sister. But we must accept that she's lost as a Jedi."
"Have you?"
Father looked at him for a moment, then gave him a wry grin. "No. But I'm a bit more accomplished at hiding it."
"Do you miss her? As a Jedi, I mean?"
"I miss her in every way possible. Then, I miss you, too. I miss the two of you playing in the dust and making sandmen on the back porch. I miss having to go into your room to collect her at night because she just couldn't go to bed without telling you just one more thing. I miss our life as it was."
"So do I."
"But it is no longer there. And Leia, as I recall, was never quite as fond of it as we were. This new life has its charms as well. Human beings are strange creatures, Luke - we'll always miss what we don't have, even if we've missed what we do have at another time."
"Do you think she's in trouble?"
Father's eyes immediately became sharp and focused - the father was gone, the Jedi Master present. "No. Leia has always blocked me, almost subconsciously, and I have no standard to judge by. Have you sensed something?"
"No," Luke answered quickly, but he wasn't sure. Why was he so obsessed with reaching her? What danger was reaching through the broken bond? But could he honestly say that he sensed something? Or was it just his own bleeding heart, wishing for company?
"Luke?"
"I think I just miss her," he said at last.
Father put a hand on his shoulder. "I am glad of it, Luke. I am glad you love as deeply as you do."
"Master Yoda says it's a liability. That it can be used against me."
"He's right. But he doesn't understand that it is also your greatest strength. Do not let it go."
"Are you speaking as my father or my Master?"
"Yes." The hand on Luke's shoulder squeezed lightly, then Father stood. "Come. There are matters to be discussed in Council."
"Oh. I'll take Shmi home and -"
"No. Your presence is requested as well."
Luke stood. A strange, buzzing feeling in his mind accompanied him as he walked with Father through the partially rebuilt halls of the Temple. They entered the elevator without speaking, side by side. As the doors slid open, Luke was almost physically pushed back by a strange, nonsensical vision - he stood beside Father, in an elevator not unlike this one, but it opened into a dark, cavernous room, where a great spider perched at the center of a dark web. They stepped forward together...
... and the Council room came back into view, the circle of Masters looking at them with somber eyes.
Father glanced over, and Luke knew, somehow, that he'd had the same strange vision. Perhaps they could discuss it later.
Master Yoda motioned for them to come forward. "Come, come. Much have we to discuss, and plans have you to make."
Father squeezed Luke's shoulder, then took his seat beside Yoda. Luke went to the center of the room, as was the custom for the Council's guests. "Does the Council require something of me?" he asked, lowering his eyes.
"Patience, you need," Yoda said. "We will talk first, and require later."
"Yes, Master."
Yoda hit the control of a small remote in his hand, and a holoprojection appeared in front of him. A world set to the flames. It was a grainy transmission, and nothing could be seen clearly through the smoke.
"This comes from the world of Anoat," Old Bant said. She was a Calamarian woman, with a soft and gentle voice, and she had once been a friend to Obi-Wan Kenobi; Luke was fond of her. "It was caught by satellite, though most of the security measures were disabled early in the attack." She stood, and used a laser pointer to indicate what she was talking about. "You can see here and here that groups of Anoat settlers appear to have set the flame to their own homes" - she showed them men and women, huddled together, suddenly firing blasters into tinder-dry houses - "and you can see that little is being done to stop it."
Luke nodded. This was something he'd already known.
"We were aware that some entity had been instigating these events, but until Anoat, we assumed that witnesses were mistaken, that in fact the devastation was caused by a group of mercenaries or terrorists. But this footage corroborates the eyewitness testimony of Dr. Jaet Bishapi - if you look here, you can see - barely; this is a very poor recording - a single form, high on the hillside."
Luke looked carefully at the figure - tall, thin, black robes billowing around an otherwise shapeless form. It might have been taken for a scarecrow. But it wasn't. The longer he watched, the more intuitively apparent it was that the figure was overseeing the devastation.
"Then Shmi's insight was correct," Father said. "The Sith have returned."
Bant nodded. "Yes. But it becomes more complicated." The holo changed, and showed a different world - though Luke only knew it was a different world because the landmarks had changed. It was scorched and burned, and bodies littered the landscape. Bant zeroed in on one of them. A thin form, in a long cloak, only partially burned. She expanded its size, and they could all see the charred lightsaber lying on the ground nearby.
"Isn't that the figure we just saw on -?"
"It is. I have no doubt of it."
"Then it's over."
"No. Someone killed this creature, there on Motibi. Had it been a native, I suspect responsibility would have been claimed. The most likely suspect is -"
"Another Sith," Father finished. "The apprentice. That must have been Palpatine's apprentice. That was what Obi-Wan was trying to remind me of, there at the end. Why didn't I listen?"
"None of us did," Bant said. "Which I find strange, to the point of assuming that it was somehow orchestrated. This creature blinded the whole Order. But someone was strong enough to kill it."
"Always two," Yoda said. "And this brings us to requiring, young Luke."
"Yes, Master Yoda?"
"Too long have you been an apprentice. This, you know well. The time has come for your Trials. And your Trial, young Luke, is to find this apprentice -"
"No!" Father said, standing. He began to pace. "That is not a Trial, Yoda, and you know it. It is an assignment for a knight with experience, and -"
"Find him, I said, not confront him. Know, we must, with whom we are dealing. Then, and only then, decisions will we make."
"Luke is my padawan," Father said obstinately. "I forbid it. I sense danger -"
"Danger, there always is in a Trial, Master Anakin. You have forbidden other Trials before now..."
Luke's eyes snapped up; this was something he hadn't known. Father looked at him guiltily, and Luke understood that his Trials had been put off for quite a long time. He felt a dull anger at the lack of trust, but it was faraway and dim. Closer was the slight embarrassment at being loved a bit more than the Council thought good for him. And the warmth of knowing it. "I accept the Trial," he said.
From the end of the hall, Shmi watched her father and her brother disappear into the elevator. They always looked so mismatched together - both blonde and blue-eyed, of course, but Father was large and solid, while Luke was small and lithe, like Mother and Shmi herself. None of the children had really taken after Father, though Leia did have his... solidity, Shmi guessed was the right word for it. She sometimes imagined her family as three wind sprites dancing around two trees.
Not that much had been seen of Tree Number Two just lately. And flying off to all corners of the galaxy was hardly tree-like behavior, so the mental image fell apart, as it always did. Shmi supposed it didn't matter all that much that she could turn a metaphor the way old Bant sometimes liked to, but she sensed something in her search for an image that felt important to her, though she couldn't say why.
"Are you done for the day?"
She turned. Her younger brother was standing in the doorway, a lesson disk held loosely in one hand. People always thought him a somber child, but Shmi knew it was just his looks. Ben had deep, thoughtful blue eyes, and a fine delicate mouth that resembled Leia's (or what had been Leia's in what Shmi thought of as The Time Before). He didn't smile often, but Shmi knew that was because some of the other boys were cruel, and teased him about being "pretty."
He was pretty, Shmi thought, but it was a childhood prettiness that would turn him into a striking man someday. And he was happy. Not giddy, but genuinely content. Shmi sometimes thought she was the only person who knew it. "It looks like it," she said. Do you want to go somewhere for a ruby bliel or something?"
He nodded, and gave her one of his rare smiles. It was Mother's smile, the beatific, angel-smile that she saved for special occasions. "We can go to..."
Then the world went gray.
Shmi felt herself pulled out into the Force, into the nameless, placeless spaces between the worlds, where she had no self and time had no meaning. Somewhere in the distance, she could sense another presence, and knew that once she had known it, but now...
The gray darkened, and became black, and she was in a great cave, where a giant spider sat at the center of its web. From two of its forelegs dangled long strings, and at the end of them, human faces - one was Father's, the other Leia's... unscarred and beautiful. Shmi found it compelling; she barely remembered her sister's face in the real world.
The spider spun them around, playing with fate like a child playing with whirler-bobs, and laughed a throaty old man's laugh. Then, to her horror, it became aware of her presence, and looked at her.
"Live," it said, twirling Leia's face up into the pincer-end of its limb. He squeezed, and Shmi felt a terrible rush of pain. Then it let go, and hooked Father up. "Or don't live."
Instead of squeezing, the spider pushed the gruesome toy out at her, and she felt the energy hit her, and scatter her mind into nothingness...
"...Shmi, Shmi, what is it? What's wrong?"
Shmi blinked her eyes. Somehow, she was lying on her back in the hall of the Temple, staring up at the ceiling. Ben, no longer smiling, was kneeling above her, his hand stroking her hair. "What happened?"
"Your eyes bugged out and you fell down. Did you see something?"
He was so sincere that Shmi considered telling him - really, she did - but in the end, she found that the words wouldn't come. She pinched his nose. "Yeah," she said. "I got a really good view of the ceiling. It needs cleaning."
"Shmi -"
"Look, don't tell, okay?"
"I hate it when people tell me not to tell."
"I just don't want to get sent to the med lab to poked and prodded like they did last time. They didn't find anything then, and it just worried Father and Mother."
Ben sighed. "All right. But you flop again, I'm really going to tell."
"I won't." She stood and dusted herself off.
"If I'm not telling anyway," Ben said, "couldn't you at least tell me what you saw? For real?"
Feeling better already - Shmi was never bothered long by visions, and incorporated them into her mind as seamlessly as they would go - she gave him a mischievous smile. "It was a horrible vision," she said. "We got to Lom Detrick's, and they'd completely sold out of ruby bliels!" She winked.
Ben's mouth twitched back toward a smile, and, at the same moment, they called "Race!
Shmi won.
CHAPTER TWO: PARTINGS
Han waited until he was pretty sure she was out of the system. She'd left that morning, lingering longer than she usually did, and her ship was tracked on its way to Malastare, where there had been a protest over the scourging of Motibi. She would assure the protesters that the matter was being investigated, that all avenues were being explored, that justice would be brought against whoever threatened the peace of the Republic.
A few days later, he knew, the firestorm would begin. He guessed it would center at the racing arena, the heart of Malastare's leisure industry. Then it would move on to the mining operations...
He closed his eyes, trying to will the idea out of his head, but it wouldn't go. They were ash burns. She'd been in the firestorms, and not as an investigator.
She talked in her sleep.
Or, more to the point, she screamed in her sleep. And wept. Han understood very little of it, but once, she'd called out to someone she called "Master." Then she had clenched her fist tightly enough for her short-cropped nails to draw blood. Han had patiently pried her fist open, and soothed her back into a more comfortable rest. How she slept through those episodes was beyond him, but she never remembered them in the morning.
That was what decided him, in the end. Whatever was going on with those burned worlds, it wasn't just hurting them. He couldn't just get in her way and keep her occupied. It was hurting her, and he didn't know how to fix it, and that meant he had to bring in someone from outside. He had to turn her in. But not without proof. He couldn't allow a chance for her to slip away, with mere suspicion aimed at her. She needed to be taken someplace where they would help her, even if it was against her will.
He found Chewie halfway around Corellia, working on the Falcon's hyperdrive with a half-crazy - but very talented - racing mechanic named Dervash.
"Hey there, Solo!"
"Hey, Chewie!" he called, grinning and ignoring Dervash's greeting. "What are you letting this ten-thumbed woman at my ship for?"
Chewie barked something about flying the Falcon more than Han did these days.
"Yeah, well, she's still my ship, pal. I'm taking her to Malastare. You on board?"
The frustrated howl was enough to tell Han that Chewie was on board, but not crazy about the idea.
Dervash asked if she could be useful. Han told her she could watch the pod races on the holoproj, same as everyone else. It was for her own good. Leia always got her back up when other women were around. Dervash disappeared into her speeder, and left the hangar.
Chewie spoke a little more plainly this time.
Han shook his head. "No, we're not going to help her out with anything, at least not anything she's going to like."
A brief question.
"Yeah, we're going there after her. But let's try to avoid Republic attention, okay?"
Chewie was happy to oblige.
They made good time to Malastare, and Han thought maybe the would even beat her there. No such luck. Her ship was in orbit already, and the shuttle was launching when they came out of hyperspace.
"Hang back, Chewie."
It was an unnecessary instruction; Chewie had anticipated it, and looped behind one of Malastare's moons until the launch was over. They didn't speak. Han wondered what the Wookiee was thinking, but wasn't sure he really wanted to know.
What in the hell am I doing?
The panic hit in a flash. If he was wrong, she'd never forgive him for spying on her. If he was right... he didn't even want to think about it. Did he really want to know, if he was right? And if she wouldn't forgive him for being wrong, how likely was she to forgive him for being right about this?
Whatever happens down there, he thought, Leia Skywalker will be out of my life over it.
And then, another voice, a voice he thought he'd left behind when old Kenobi had told him that he belonged with the Skywalkers: Is that necessarily the worst thing that could happen?
And that voice, he knew, would be relieved to be out of it, to be back on his own, with just Chewie, the Falcon, and the galaxy to play around in. Leave the complicated stuff to the Jedi and the politicians. It wasn't Han's concern.
He thought of the evening sun, making a red halo of her hair.
The political mess wasn't his concern. But she was.
"Okay," he said, when air traffic resumed its normal patterns. "Let's do it casual. Get around the planet. I know a few places to land."
Chewie complied.
They landed just over the nightline, at the deserted landing strip of an exhausted mine. Han had known the man who'd been in charge of it at the time. He wasn't likely to object, not least because he was in a cell at Jabba's place on Tatooine. He and Chewie got the Falcon under cover.
"Okay, pal," Han said, scratching Chewie's shoulder. "I need you to stick around here, for a fast getaway. I'll... " He shrugged. He had no idea exactly what he was going to do. "I'll figure something out."
Chewie told him to watch his back.
Han agreed to do so, but didn't think it was his back that was in any danger. It was his heart, and the damage was already done.
Luke habitually woke up before dawn, so the Coruscant sunrise was not a stranger to him. He just usually managed to get at least a little sleep before he saw it.
But last night, Father had asked him to come to the meditation room in the Temple, and they had been sitting quietly together, sharing memories and thoughts, until Luke noticed the first gray light coming through the window. He didn't begrudge the time. They both knew that they'd reached the last hours of Luke's apprenticeship, and there would be far fewer opportunities to simply communicate with one another now.
Father, whose back was to the window, looked over his shoulder at the brightening sky. "Someday," he said, "I'll figure out how to stop time."
Luke smiled. "But you'd always miss whatever comes after."
"And the padawan, again, instructs the Master. Yoda has mentioned more than once that he can no longer tell which of us plays which role."
Luke stood, then offered a shallow formal bow. He wouldn't allow Father to belittle himself. "It has never been in question, Master."
He was rewarded with a grin that made the sleepless night completely worthwhile. It was not the cold greeting of the Jedi Master, the Council spokesman. It wasn't the formal smile of the Chancellor's consort, or the Jedi ambassador. It was the grin of Anakin Skywalker, desert farmer and father to a pair of dusty twins, the grin he gave them when he picked them up by the scruffs of their tunics, and put them up on a rock to see the spread of the Dune Sea from the bluffs, the grin he wore when he ruffled Luke's hair or spun Leia through the air while she laughed, the sound bouncing off the red faces of the cliff-rocks. Luke hadn't seen it for years, and he returned it.
"We should go home," Father said. "I've been greedy. Your mother will want to say goodbye."
They chatted informally as they walked home, talking about the weather, about Ben's progress in school, about Mother's political troubles... about everything except Luke's mission.
By the time they arrived, they were in good spirits, and Mother did her best to match them. Her feelings about the matter were not as ambivalent as Father's - she was simply proud that Luke was taking his Trials, and told him several times what a great Jedi knight she thought he'd be. Luke was a bit embarrassed by it, but he appreciated it. He hadn't failed to notice that she had "graduated" Leia from her training several years ago. They were so different from one another, his parents... Father with his passion for keeping everyone together, Mother with her drive to see the children succeed in the galaxy on their own. Yet there was never a question in his mind that they both loved the family fiercely and completely, and he'd grown up comfortably in the balance between them.
Ben sat at the end of the table, looking as tired as ever. Luke thought he might be sick; he never seemed to get enough sleep. He blinked slowly at Luke. "What are your Trials going to be?" he asked.
"I can't discuss them."
"Something for real then."
"Yes." It was almost always "for real" now; with less than one hundred Jedi in the galaxy, creating fictional Trials was a waste of strength.
"And you're going soon?"
"He's going today, Benny," Shmi said, finally coming into the kitchen. "I'm going with him."
At this, Mother and Father looked up sharply. "I don't think so," Mother said, but she looked across at Father - matters of Jedi training always fell to him.
Luke had expected Father to simply refuse her and get on with the day, but instead, his eyes narrowed slightly. "And why, Shmi, are you under this impression?"
"I saw it."
"And you aren't making up a vision in order to do what you please?"
Shmi let the insult roll over her. One of the things Luke had always liked about his younger sister was that she rarely became defensive. "No, I'm not making anything up. It's hard to explain what I saw... "
"Then perhaps you should simply tell us, and let us try to understand it ourselves."
Shmi glanced over at Mother, suddenly self-conscious. Mother simply nodded at her.
"I saw... a large room, pitch dark. And a spider -"
Luke felt his head snap upward. "A spider?"
"With a man's voice."
Father had paled noticeably. He looked across at Luke, then merely said, "We know the place."
Shmi bit her lip. "The vision said it was my choice. I choose to go."
Mother shook her head. "Your father outranks a talking spider in a vision."
"You may go," Father said.
"Ani -"
"I don't know why Shmi was given this vision, Amidala. When Luke and I saw this place -" he glanced at Luke for confirmation; Luke gave it, "- we were alone in it."
Shmi bit her lip; Luke could tell that she wanted to say something, but she didn't. He would ask her later. He had to admit, he would be glad of her company. He didn't often spend time alone, and never knew who to talk to when he was. And it was just a fact-finding mission, really.
Mother didn't look at all happy with the decision, but she was the one who had placed it in Father's hands. She went along with it.
They finished breakfast quietly, with practical advice taking precedence over emotional outbursts. The Trials were, above all, a test, and Father was Luke's teacher.
After breakfast, Mother only held them a little tighter than usual, and kissed Luke's cheek, which she didn't do as often as she once had. She whispered, "May the Force be with you, my precious son," then backed away, straightened Shmi's perpetually unruly hair, and sent them on their way.
The Council had provided a small spacecraft for them, smaller than most shuttles, but it was really all they needed. They stowed what little baggage they had in the hold, then went to the cockpit. Shmi sat in the pilot's seat.
Luke picked her up and moved her. "I don't think so."
She smiled, in high spirits. "Do I say 'Yes, Master' now?"
"Not yet. Ready?"
She nodded. Luke guided the ship up into the atmosphere, then, in a burst of speed, broke the gravity well. He had to keep his eyes and mind focused in the detritus of civilization around Coruscant - the satellites, the sailing barges, the various bits of space debris that always clustered around cluttered planets - so he wasn't looking at Shmi when he asked, "What else did you see?"
"You weren't there," Shmi said. "Just Father and Leia. The spider had them."
"How strange. We only saw -" he shrugged. "I can't explain it. I was with Father, only it wasn't Father. Something was very wrong with him. I think he knows it. Then it disappeared."
"What was wrong?"
Luke thought about it. But when he thought of the vision, it wasn't simply that he couldn't explain what he saw. He couldn't... he couldn't see what he saw. It was like looking through a particularly bad glamour around a cheap holoprojection - a shifting pattern of poisoned light obscured the figure, even though he knew what it was. "I don't know," he finally said. "I think maybe he was sick. Something about his breathing."
Shmi shook her head. "I didn't see that part. I guess we'll find out how they fit together some time."
"Maybe we should find Leia."
"Maybe we should."
Her voice was cool and measured on the last, and Luke realized that he spoke of Leia in Shmi's presence more than he spoke of his fondness for her. He'd never thought about it, but he supposed she might feel... second best. He cleared the edge of the orbital ring around Coruscant, and reached over to take her hand. "I'm glad you're with me, Shmi."
She smiled and kissed his cheek, then settled herself in beside him. He hit the hyperdrive, and time and space bent around them.
Han knew something was going wrong as soon as he got into the governor's house. It was too easy. He'd trusted his luck for a long time, but he didn't trust it around Leia. She was better than that.
But he took the opening, lifting the wine cellar door and slipping down into the shadows. The smell of fruit in various stages of fermentation hit him in the face like a cobweb.
Turn around now.
He went forward, and the air started to circulate better. Real cobwebs dangled from the rafters now. He brushed them out of his hair. Light came from the base of a doorway somewhere ahead.
He didn't know what he was looking for. Was he really hoping to hear her planning out a purge? Well, not hoping but...
Not much good, even if he did. He hadn't brought anything to record it with.
He leaned against the wall, to heavy-hearted to be nervous about what he was doing.
Just turn around. Now. Leave.
He closed his eyes. It wasn't his own voice. It was hers. She knew he was here.
Go now! Please! I can't stop...
It faded into something incomprehensible, then was abruptly cut off, and he understood: Leia Skywalker was here... but so was the Other, the one she had become. And the Other was winning.
He reached the door, pushed it open. The room was empty, except for a hand-held terminal that had been left on the table. It was logged in. He picked it up, knowing what he would see, and that his discovery of it had been anticipated and planned for.
But by who? By the voice that was warning him to stay back? Leia or the Other?
Take it and leave! Please! Han! I can't -
No fading this time. Just a brutal cut. He heard motion at the cellar door.
He tucked the notepad into his vest. No more time to waste.
She was waiting outside the door, a line of battle droids on either side of her, and the governor of Malastare walking before her. Han did not mistake the power structure, even for a moment. She might as well have left the puppet strings attached. The governor was not acting of his own accord.
"Command them," Leia said.
The governor keyed a series of commands to the droids, and the moved forward, surrounding Han. They gripped his arms, and forced him to kneel. The governor stood aside stupidly.
"You can't even command the droids yourself?" he asked, trying to find Leia's eyes, somewhere behind the madness that burned above the veils.
"I command who I choose to command." She looked disdainfully at the governor. "You may leave us now."
"Yes, Lady Miseta."
Han shook his head. He'd have stood and turned his back on her, if the droids weren't holding him down. "Even your name," he said.
"Would you prefer I did this under my family name?"
It was the voice of the Other, but the words were strange... she was shamed by what she was doing. It was still Leia. And that made it worse.
She reached to him, pulled the notepad from his vest pocket. "Careless of me, to leave this out."
Han watched her carefully, saying nothing. Her tone was meant to suggest that it had been part of a trap, but he was used to reading her face even through the veils, and he knew she really was puzzled. She didn't remember leaving it out. And it bothered her.
He wasn't stupid enough to point this out. "Yeah," he said. "Well, you seem to be real careless lately."
"What were you planning to do with this?"
"Needed a few pointers on how to kill a thousand people in an hour. I'm a little rusty."
She picked up a droid control pad, and made the two droids holding Han tighten their grip, digging their pincer-like forelimbs into his upper arms and pulling him further down. Incredibly, she said, "I'm disappointed in you."
Han couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Yeah, well, it's mutual, Sweetheart."
"I'd really hoped you wouldn't come."
"So why leave out the welcome mat?"
She shrugged. "You're not as easy to read as you seem to think, but I can see some things. I felt you looking at my face. And I saw that you'd seen the new burns. And I saw you trying to rush me out." Again, that puzzled look under the veils. Han could see it in a slight change in the angle of the drape. "It was foolish of me to go to you then."
Foolish for you, Miseta, Han thought. But smart for Leia.
She laughed. "How convenient for you! I'm not really your lover! That's some other woman!"
"No. Just another possibility."
She bent, and slapped him across the face, hard. He could see tears in her eyes. "I am all there is, Han. Maybe I did want you to find me. Maybe I wanted you to know all of me, instead of the false face I show everyone else."
Han believed that part, at least. She wanted to share this with him. She wanted him to know. The question was, why? "Yeah, well, now I've seen you. Can't say I'm real thrilled with it."
"So," she said, "love only goes as far as the veils. I thought you were the one who wanted to see under them." She pulled it away, revealing the melted flesh around her jaws. Her mouth was pulled into a feral snarl. "Well, look. This is who I am!"
"My mistake," Han said. "Go on. Mind trick me into loving you again."
"I never did that."
"Why should I believe you?"
"I loved you!"
"Yeah, I know. That's the hell of it, isn't it?"
He let the droids lead him away. The last thing he saw before they pulled him from the room was Leia, turning away from him, throwing the notepad against the wall. It shattered.
DISCLAIMER: It all belongs to Uncle George.